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r fety* Is published by authority of the Southern Musical Convention, Every Wednesday, atOne Dollar St Fifty Cls. per Venr Wpajil strictly in advance. Two dollars, if not paid Wtn|n threq months. Those terms wilLl>e positively adhered to. Postage, When-not paid, charged and dc 4ictedfrsjn the amount sent. 04 V* ’ ’ • BATES OF ADVERTISING. ‘One square ,<l2line*, or le*n first insertion, 91 00 Eacli subsequent insertion, * 50 5T A liberal reduction from (he above prices made in favor qCMerebMts who advertise by the year. 05yAdyertiadments not having the numberof msertipns-marked on them, will be published til eat, and charged for accordingly. * NOTICE TO ADVERTISERS. Exeefttors, Administrators, and Guardians’Sales must e published sixty days. Sales.of Personal Property, notices lo Defers and Creditors, and Dismission from Guardianship, foriy days Application for lea veto sell Land and Negroes week . 3 for four months. Citations, or Letters of Administration, thirty days For Dismission from -Administration, monthly, for six months. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage, monthly for four months. For Establishing Lost Papers, three months. G?* No paper discontinued l intil settled for Hay IT, 1834. #3*Our patron* will excuse (he Jack, of editorial in this week's paper,—we 4|ve given up onr spare room to the fav. ■Cour friends. MUSICAL. mi by some rape distinct cljfljgf |ii,” viz :Jdm Jpt churcf^Gfytmi’ Pb-Tlty of mime is, such as y?'’ fffor the parlor or school room, f|P%ltMrument and the voice ac ■y each other ; this kind of music Com P os hion, - :J-<. ;■* * s ’ M° ,n ,!le <or ’ . V p Kto imncirm /';• y - bl not wit h- W com- Eomi p:\r 'i* 4 ’ ‘’ r W*' c (s a;o muUfNpHpßPgp^^^^^vhich rail rule is concerned ; they all though this position is W e urge that all music com’ posed, must maintain one fundamental principle, harmoniously, viz: A key or tonic sound, as a foundation, and the principle of leading note as subservient to the tonic, just as though the notes were to be called by a given name to express their proper position in intonation; by this rule all musicians must be governed in the preservation of the practical scale, and in this one particular portion of sys tem all the variety concentrates. We are apprised this idea will meet opposi* tion, if so, let us hear from the npposer, and we will go into the investigation at length. .Sup. ANSWERS TO UTTLE SUSA’S QUESTIONS. Q. Where did Flats and Sharps first originate ? A. According to ancient history, they originated in Germany. Q. Who was the inventor of thenr. ? A. Guido invented them, to prevent moving the Cliffs. Q. Has there ever existed any other keys besides the two present keys, name* ly the major and minor? A. Not primarily; there were the va riety of substitutes, and bore the name of Keys, without attaching the name of ma jor or minor to them, and were only sub ■fluent to a kind of artificial taste, with* oui any substantial value, and were of but short duration. Q. What is Sa'cred Music? A. Sacred music is of that quality of composition which is calculated to pro* duce a sacred effect, in strict accordance ■uth the true principles of religious de* Kin. ■raAt what age of the world did the ■ table system originate ? Bt same historian referred to Ki they were introduced in the were continued in use itad then abandoned for i|then Mr. Pestalosi ’ it in , ’ %, tjmy. about the pof a juvenile mT hy Kd do Redness. The abo^H^gmost Ijof anything- we have on the Byrthorough Bass? dis* lw>o - BBssion of the PPHTe playful breeze the same time Hgh- and tender leaflets, Earing upon its breath a mille-Jleur odor Erfectly intoxicating to young ladies in Pvc, and not at all ungrateful to a riped of the opposite gender, with an em bryo moustache. All nature seemed to ft united in a silent but expressive rend* king of praise to Him who sendeth rain n the just and the unjust. It was one ■tefweetest April mornings that ever softened and made better the Ik .nan, since the days of primeval Mence and Paradisical beatitude. Bn such a morn, did three bachelors— Kldihg to the charming invitations of Bseasorb and having the dreamy vis- B of Isaac Walton before their eyes— Blertmne upon a piscatory expedition pnd “a day in the woods.” Fishing ta cle, and all needlul stores for the excur sion, were soon procured, and our worthy triolet off on foot with buoyant hearts atHft high expectancy,—the earth seemed to glide beneath their light feet; spark lingJijLand happy repartee enlivened theiflßiversarioi). Astltey proceeded their thoughts fell into a more serious vein and graver sub jecfs were discussed ; among others was marriage—the comparative pleasures ol a married and bachelor life.—The Chan-, cellor, (who, bye thesbye was a married man, but had so happy an art of accom modating himself to the feelings and fel lowsbip of a bachelor as almost, at times, to be mistaken for one; and be this said without any aspersion upon his hymeniai qualities, for I verily believe that he is one of the very best of the few good husbands I ever knew,) espoused the af firmative, and discoursed most eloquently upon the advantages and superior pleas ures of a married life; its gentle and be fitting restraints, its quiet enjoyments. “Ah! my friends,” said he, “you know nothing of true happiness; you spend your time more in seeking than enjoying; yours is a face in which the prize is nevs er won, it is always in the prospective. You think you have much delight in the associations of friendship; its sympathies, and what you term its unbounded coufi dencies, but where are those little thoughts that lie deep buried in the soul; where those little sorrows that a friend might deem weaknesses, or if he did not, his sympathies could not alleviate.- Where your plans for the future, your aspirations, your hopes? These are what form the great concernments of your lives, and in which you most need sympathy; and this sympathy can only come from that gentle being who has fixed her des tiny with yours; who has excited and is impressed with a love pure, and unbound* ed as the mind itself, who from the very instincts and depth of her affections is your councillor; whose tenderness be* guiles the cares of life and plucks every thorn from its roses. Ah ! sirs, this is not happiness pursued, it is happiness possessed. While the Chancellor was speaking, the Major's face gradually assumed a pen sive seriousness: his fancy seemed to have taken wing, and his thoughts had far outstripped his powers of utterance— he was silent. In the application of the subject how* ever, the name of a young lady was men* tioned; and it was remarked, that if any thing could render her more lovely or add to her general amiability, it would be a little sweetning of temper. The Major halted upon the instant, and with that chivalric indignation that it ever ready in the defence of injured innocence de picted in his countenance, he drew him self up precisely au inch and a half above his shirt collar, and delivered himself as follows: “Gentlemen, I have loved your society, and have hitherto entsrtained the highest respect for your opinions, but I will not take salt nor break bread with any who could entertain, much less give expression to a sentiment so unjust to the most peerless of women-” The Chancellor immediately explained that he was mistaken ; that nothing de rogatory to the lady was intended, it was only meant to be said of her that she pos sessed just enough spirit, when having subsided into the sober hues of matrimo ny, to dispel the ennui of the position, and might possibly throw in a few inter ludes, which would but tend to give a pleasing variety to any superabundance of quietude that might pertain to the marital state ; whereupon the Major, by his usual bland smile, indicated & recon ciliatipn, and we pursued the “even ten* .orof our, way.” HhdJaiS’ time we had traversed about ■rs and a half, through a lovely Ikhill and dell, and now found whose chrystal waters came leaping, laugh- sunlight now PBrrolten glass it glides bed; now it twirls into and then subsides into a quiet Kolas if tarrying, while in its joyous Burse, to pass a kind word of salutation To the flowers that bend over to kiss it from the bank ; thus it meanders through forest, field and brake far away to the southward. The Major is perfectly delighted with the scene, “ how lovely ! how beautiful!” He becomes poetical, and placing him self upon a bank, in a theatrical attitude, he proceeds— “ There is a pleasure in the pathless woods. There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the ripling brook, and music in its r-o-a-r. The last rhyming word was somewhat ungracefully prolonged by an effort to re gain his balance, but too late ; the yield ing bank had crumbled beneath his feet, and the Major went floundering in the water; he picked himself up and came striding out, doubtless, his poetic ardor considerably cooled, and not at all prepar ed to relish the joke as did the Chancel lor and myself. “ 1 say, Chancellor,” said he, “ what a fine thing it was I went in the creek instead of you.” *’ How so, Major?” ” Why, you see I care nothing partic ularly about it, and I shall get no ‘ Cau dle Lecture’ when J go home to-night.” ” Ay, that’s true,” said the Chancellor, “and that isn’t alt yow Won’t get; when you go home to night with a cold, and slight head ache, you won’t get any nice composition tea, and a white pillow, smoothed down by a whiter hand, which rests for a moment upon your throbbing temples, with the gentle enquiry—• it’s better now, is’nt it ?’ certainly it’s better. You don’t know what a luxury it is for a married man to be a little sick. Caudle Lectures, indeed ! there are in reality no such things; they were written by a bachelor, and have no existence save in the idle reveries of a bachelor’s brain.” The Major made no reply, but pro ceeded, silently, to attach his line to the end of a small pole, procured for the oc casion ; and we were soon in the medios rese of the sport. You may write books, and talk about your trout-fishing ; where one may creep cautiously for a whole day through briar and brake: and then perhaps, not hook more than half a dozen; it won’t begin to compare with minnow fishing, such as we had that day. How the little fellows would leap to seize the bait; what gyrations in the limpid waters; now the Chancellor lias twitched out a red pearch ; then a roach, now a horny head is dangling at the Major’s hook; out glides a ‘ silversides’ trophy to the skill of your bumble servant. Ah ! you may believe it is lively sport: lively, sir We had met with fine success; many a captive was flouncing in the basket, and we were proceeding down stream, when our progress was interrupted by a rail fence; certainly, a very slight obstacle to an agile and determined bachelor. I waA few paces in advance, and with one bound was seated upon the fence, but did not maintain the position long; the top rail saw proper to change its posi tion just as I bestrode it, and I toppled over with a considerable crash among some light brush and leaves on the other side. This was a fine offset to the Major’s plunge and he enjoyed it excessively I looked through the fence at him; he was perfectly speechless with merriment, he stamped upon the ground, writhed and twisted himself about, and exhibited various other funny symptoms ol delight. An idea struck me, I slipped my hand cautiously into my coat pocket, as if feel ing for broken glass. “ Wbat!”excW*. ed the Major, “you hav’nt broke that flask.” I did not reply, but continued the expressive pnntomine; by this his mirth had dissipated as suddenly as did Bob Acres’ courage. “ Bacchus and Belzebub”—an article not to be drank, but only sipped. “Gentlemen,” contic ued he, as his indignation increased, “ I believe none who know me have ever thought me vindictive or cruel; in fact, I am opposed to capital punishmeut, but such a piece of criminal negligence should not go unpunished. I move he be not allowed to hold any farther office of hon or or profit duiing the day and”——and the Major’s motion was suspended by simply holding up to his view unharmed, a small flagon; very small, just large enough to hold about three thimbles full of Champaigne B. of the finest vintage. The Major perceived he had been sold, and made a feeble attempt to extricate himself; turning to the Chancellor, he said—• I might have known it was a false alarm, for I think if his neck and the fluid were in equal danger, I had rather underwrite insurance on the flask than the neck.” Th<* Chancellor, who had taken on himself the duties of cook, proceeded on before to prepare dinner, while the Ma jor and I continued angling. We per ceived a small wreath of smoke curling up through the forest, and soon the signal announced all was ready. We uncoated, dipped our hands and faces in the clear, cool waters, and proceeded to answer th* Chancellor’s summons. A large newspa per supplied the place of a table-cloth, spread out beneath the overhanging, foliage; the viands consisted of Sardines, eggs, cheese butter cmckers, pickles, &c. I reckon there was never a more cheer ful dinner party ; cerfes no dinner ever received greater praise or a more hearty discussion. How do you boil eggs with out a kettle, Chancellor? enquired the Major, as he struck his knife half and half in one, and prepared to sprinkle the pepper and salt. Nothing half so easy, roll them up in two or three layers of pa per, saturate the whole with water, open the fire and cover them well. The Chancellor went to the fire and returned with one of the aforesaid cullinary im pliments, and unrolled a dozen little fish we had taken, nicely prepared, seasoned and cooked to a charm ; we all partook of them,,and all agreed they were excellent. The major,- who is a connoiseur in ssjch matters, pronounced the ‘‘American Sar dines,” as proposed by the Chancellor, equal in flavor to the French, with their rich oils and spices. Dinner being over, the Major was sit ting whiffing away at one of ‘Uncle Dick's” best Havannas, when looking up he beheld a profusion of wild honey-suck • les, hanging in rich and luxuriant clus ters. just over his head. He arose, and extending his arms, took them all in his embrace, pressing his face again and again among their velvety leaves, and sighing all the while. “How fragrant I How dajiei ouS I” “Are you fond of flowers, Major? said I.” He bestowed a look of perfect incredulity upon me as if to ask if I could doubt for a moment that he was fond of flowers and every other beautiful thing upon this beautiful earth. •We may ad mire but not mar them,” said I. “Ah, that's true,” he replied, “and I’m glad to hear you say so; you see I will not plcuk them, but nly kiss it on the stalk, as Shakespeare says.” So saying he re leased them from his embrace and they readjusted themselves in their native beautiful festoons, with never a petal nor a calix ruffled. March, is the word, but the Chancellor is missing; looking around we discover him stretched out upon a little plat of green moss, sleeping, slumbering by the water’s side. “Hey, thou sluggard, awake, the game is up!” So on we go, dipping in here, and dipping in there, making vari* ous contributions upon the finny tribe.— Finally we arrive at a fence which forms the boundary of an interminable aucces sion of fields; the young oats and wheat clothe the hill-sides in a rich mantle of green ; the little stream glides through the j meadow, we trace its nrieanderings by a line of verdure that fringes its banks, until it winds around a hill and is lost to view. A solitary ploughman is turning the glebe, whistleing as he goes, remind* ing one of Virgil’s Bucollics; we linger a while to admire the scene, and then conclude, the day’s sport is done. * The Chancellor struck across the field to meet some friends on a mission oi humanity, the Majoi and myself fell into a woods* path that led towards home. We pursued our way for some time in pensive silence; the Major’s thoughts seemed to have taken a melancholy turn; I concluded, from certain twitchings of the muscles of his face, that his reflect tions must be of a painful character,— “ what could his grief be !” but if he has any, thought I, I must hold them sa cred and not intrude upon their privacy. I was however, about to ask him to con* fide in me and offer him my condolence, when he suddenly turned upon me with the enquiry—“ Don’t your feet hurt ?” This, of course, explained the whole.mat ter. VVe here, turned aside io a spring to refresh ourselves with a cool draught and rest awhile. The Mnjor was seated upon a large stone, one boot lying across his knee; I was seated opposite him, and he com menced to philosophize. “My friend,” said he, ‘• there are many pleasant things in this world; many beautiful things ; many things to afford us pleasure if pur* sued wirh prudence and moderation; if we knew exactly where to stop and where to begin ; but alas! for the frailty of poor human nature I These distinc* tions are so nice, we are, almost, sure to transcend a bound on one side or the other, hence it is said there is no happi* ness without an alloy ‘ Now,” contin ued he, “ we have had a delightful ram* ble to-day, and a feast that an epicure might covet, yet it has not been without some draw-backs to its perfect enjoyment.’ Here the Major bestowed a look of pro* found commisseration upon a toe that presented very much the complexion of a boiled shrimp. He continued, -‘satiety is a great foe to pleasure. Why, the very leaves do not look so fresh and green as they did this morning when we first set out; true, they present the same to the eye. but their impressions are conveyed to the mind through a medium of satiety, which darkens and bedims them. Our capacity to appreciate what is really love ly, depends very much upon the condi tion of our minds and feelings.” Here the Major quoted from his favorite Poet, to illustrate bis idea : “ No mere, no more, O, never more on me, Can the freshness of the hoart fall like dew. Which from out every lovely thing we see, Extracts emotions, beautiful and new. Hived in our hearts like the bag o’ the bee, Thiukest thou the honey with those objects grew, Alas! ’twas not in them, but in yon. and in thy power To double even the sweetness of a flower.” “ After all,” said he, “ is it not possible that you and J may exhaust our fund of pleasures, such as we have now; or what is worse, lose our capacities to en joy them. Would it not be wise to form other connections ; connections that would throw around us more permanent objects of endearment and love ; and thus bring into play the nobler and better attri butes of our nature.” • The Major ceased, and 1 was turning over in my mind the chances of his apos. tacy, when he asked abruptly—” What did you think of the Chancellor’s speech this morning?” “Well. 1 don’t know, Major,” I replied, “possibly the Chan* cellor may have painted the ladies a little, but for the most part I think he is right.” The Major gazed silently for precisely two minutes and a half, at the bubbling sands in the bottom of the spring, and then said in a low but impressive tone—• “ I think so too.” We had resumed our way ; the day was far spent, the long shadows pointing eastward, indicated that the sun was fast sinking behind the western hills ;• and his last rays lingered softly upon the modest spires and humble homes of the little vil lage which now appeared in sight. THE MURDERER WARD. The Laws of Kentucky in the case of the despicable villain, Mat. Ward, have been thrown aside to save a rich man from the gallon's. The jury in the case have all hung together and acquitted him —much to the chagrin of the law-loving citizens of the state of Kentucky. After this piece of in justice, no man’s life will be sate—the murderer and assassin may invade his domicil, and kill him in cold blood—and what will iollow—a packed jury, and of course an acquittal will end it There is not the slightest doubt but that this was n pre-meditated murder, and the guilty culprit should have swung for it, and the brother, Robert Ward, should have been confined in the penitentiary for life as an accomplice. The scales of justice in that particular State are uneven in their balance, and they want badly a