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m'O'O'iK AH*.
A JOERNAL OF AEBK I LTERIUEUS. POLITICS & MISCELLANY.
Vol. V.
ss:y§©@<§!E!i ©i^i©e^AT.
By L. F. W. Andrews.
Corner e/ Randolph and Broad streets, (up-stairs.)
COLUMBUS, Ua.
TERMS
THREE DOLLARS per annum— advance.
“ ~.„L‘ Jfc
’ ’’ Bi months. “
cwel be free of postage, except where
r * a J^iVsed.
3Ddlur4-iPffi. __
/'or /ke Muscogee Democrat.
The Brother’s Appeal.
‘Henry, youngest brother of William Rufus, and
Robert, Duke of Normandy, having incurred their
enmity, was beseiged by both while in a strong for
tress called St. Miehell’s Mount. Being reduced to.
the last extremity, for want of water, his eldest bro- j
ther Robert sent him supplies from his own table :
on being reproved for this generosity by Wiliiam he
replied. “What! shall I suffer my brother to die of
thirst ? Where shall I find another when he is gone.”
Minor's History of England.
“We played beneath the same green tree,
In sunny childhood’s hour,
Hip chased the bird, and golden bee,
jr That skipped from bud to flower;
y* We bent our bow in one green wood,
Knelt at one parent knee—
My brother then his heart was good
His young soul pure and free.
He loved us in that early day
. E’re glory laid its snare,
Alas ! that love should thus decay—
The heart such sternness wear,
A Yet, let us not, though now estrang’d,
Jp That early love deem vain,
For where, in this wide world of change,
Can such love bless again ;
By the inem'ry of those bright years,
IB His blood we must not spill
% ‘Mid burning shields and flashing spears,
B That love Ire with us still;
9 Let it point like some bright lone star
f To youth's unruffled stream ;
f Let it not set ’mid blood and war,
f Like some dark idle dream.
from finest trees, , -f~ _
rom view, , \ J
‘..dr. wjuqj/an&'tiees,
r blue ;
fly swift before
ighting breath,
cease to pour
beneath.
ley will return,
uty vie,
cy chain will spurn,
the sky,
) lovely spring
riume—
lirit bring
bin the tomb.
can give us back
ming light—
he lightnings track
ig height—
an ever give
again !
! let him live,
And in our bosom reign.”
The chieftain bowed hie bead and wept,
His harp the minstrel strung,
And sang of glory prouder yet,
Than that by conquest won ;
That greater he who on the shrine
Os holy virtue laid
Ofirings that wonld forever shine
When crowns and kingdoms fade.
Columbus, Sept. 1819. A. 11. O.
UMJflSiTirUSttßffi.
[For the Muscogee Democrat.
The War-Path and Its Incidents.
A SrORTOF THE CREEK INDIAN DISTURBANCES OF 1836.
CHAPTER 111.
Communities are not generally agitalcd by tri
vial circumstances. The cause of the disturb
ance o,Ordinary tranquility is likely to embrace
* subject of general interest or apprehension.—
‘•as little government as possible ;'that little emanating Prom and controlled by the people, and uniform in its application to all.
appointed for the consummation of his nuptials.
Richard Wayne, was a few months only the
junior of Atherton in age. He was a daring,
adventurous young man, who, with all his love
of order, could not repress his desire for the ex
citement of pioneer life. One of the first who
settled Western Georgia, the first tide of emigra
tion that set I 'Westward, awakened his aspirations
i'ta wilder r/gion, and tho stories
rtP select
His young wife, the sister of
Atherton, with commendable sympathy, encour
aged the plan, and fully consented to his ab-
Fence until the preliminary arrangements for
j the new settlement should be completed. Du-
I ring his journey thitherward, an ominous cloud
loomed above the country of his adoption. ‘The
loud solicitous call of Houston and his compat
riots greeted the emigrant on his arrival, and he
responded to the invitation for volunteers to op
i pose the horde that were rushing fiercely upon
I the sparse habitations of the pioneer settlers.—
W ith the ardor of his years, under tho convic
tion that thejsemi-barbarous invaders were strik
ing a blow at the people of his own country and
tongue, and attempting to fetter with inhuman
manacles the “hone of his hone,” he placed him
self foremost in the breach. The cold wind
from the Sierra Madre, came scouring over the
plains, wilting the exotic which the emigrants
had carefully matured. The relentless Mexi
can scourge followed the blasting wind through
the trackless desert which divided his Republic
(?) and the revolted territory, and left under his
legion footsteps no signs of animation.. The ill
advised struggles of the few planters of the fron.
tier, who hastily collected to resist the treblo
numbers whose stately march “swelled the
gale,” only encouraged the arch-fiend ol that
ruthless horde, who congratulated the fawning
minions ot his authority on their success in
breaking the spirit of the rebels in detail. But
il these struggles lor the keys to the invaded
country, seemed premature in view of tho univer
sal expectation that a few days of delay would
increase the strength of the main army, the
deathless spirit with which they were maintain
ed presaged the fierce resistance that ihe “Na
poleon ot the West,” and his well-appointed ar-
encounter. Wayne had interposed his
ln gevera ] 0 f tb ese unequal combats,
and after ]e ] as t resource of defence was ex
hnuSVe'h ’•’ychTy retreated irtnid ih t , hurtling mis
sf* of While the young vffieor
for s Vn tig; suffrage of his fellow-patriots had
invested him—was thus doggedly endeavoring
to check the enemy at the outposts, in order, as
he hoped, to give time for the settlers to rally
around the standard of the cause of independence
lat the place of common rendezvous, a large de
| tachment of the invading force penetrated the
! territory in another direction. Being thus en
j vironed, he wisely determined to throw his small
! band into the Alamo—a place under the com
mand of a former schoolmate and townsman. To
extricate himself from his embarrassment and
I accomplish his purpose, was a work of danger
j and difficulty, yet he had the skill for the emer
gency, and his vigorous efforts were crowned with
the greetings of his former friend, tho gallant
Fannin. He seemed to have been allowed the
accomplishment of his purpose, to be the witness
of a fiercer strife than had yet characterized the
war. He had scarcely had breathing time ere
the temporary calm was broken by the forth
| coming storm. The beseiging army, flushed by
| their recent trivial success, invested the Alamo,
! shouting in anticipation of an easy reduction.—
j The beleaguered waited in breathless suspense
! the onslaught of vastly superior numbers. The
j earth trembled tinder the haughty tread of the
mailed foetnen. Glen and hill echoed the deaf
! ening peals of distant artillery and the rattling
sound ofsmail arms. The little band, under its
intrepid commander, unmoved by this military
fanfaronade—the usual prelude of the Mexican
attack—probably intended to induce an evidence
of the strength and spirit of the enemy—reserved
their fire and husbanded their means for a dis
tance upon which these might tell. The con
trast presented by the calm and determined si
lence of the one, and the bluster of the other bel
ligerent force, was in character with the respec
tive metal of the contending races. The
•ontest which ensued proved that the sul
len calmness of the beleaguered was itJHU
COEUHIBUS, Georgia, Thursday Evening, September 6, 1549.
hopes, ay! the very existence as it were, of
this young woman with the destiny of her idol,
was too intimately the. object of lacerating ten
sion to be healed by such a balm —the reflec
tion that her own had yielded up his spirit with
the patriotic sentiment upon bis lips the last sign
of idea that possessed her
was the irreparable personal dre
du.The sy inJtheticteWheJfcgd
increajed the air
‘these, M-hile they were tributes to
also eloquent proofs of the universal appreciation
of her infinite loss.
It was understood that the gallant strangAr,
when ho determined with characteristic Ameri
can ardor and love of freedom, to join tho artny of
the Texans, deposited the wealth which he cat-’
ried with him, with which he intended to enter
lands for future settlement, in a large and respec
table mercantile house of one of the towns faj
thest removed (rom the probable theatre of the
war. He had the precaution to demand a cer
tificate of the deposit, with certain words ingeni
ously inserted, so us to preclude the possibility
of counterfeit, and send to his wife, so that in
case of accident her friends might he lacilitatod
in recovering his personal ellects, &c.
certificate had been received without at ihfFfinTA
awakening any fears as to the true motive which
prompted it. Tho wife only saw in it a fresh
manifestation of the uniform caution of Wayne—
there being no allusion to the anticipated diffi
culties. It was known that he retained a.dri
plicate of this important paper about his person,
with marks by which it was to bo identified if
presented by any other but himself. These cir
cumstances, and the apprehension that tlici
latter paper might be available by some adfcs- ?
turer, induced tho prompt action oi Charles *\ih.
erton. It was a large amount involved. A hfcn
of far less fraternal affection would have conhjfl.
ly encountered severer hazards than any
ably involved in the tour undertaken by Alhei
These (nets being known, and while the illg
lution of the brother was fully appreciated,
no marvel that a rumor of his murder in H
of his mission of love and errand of
tv, should have produced an extraordinary
lion. The mysterious dispensation of
(lence, while it grew the more
investigation, was in itself abstractly
sufficiently momentous to excite the inttfv
tiie community. It is singular that amid
circumstance's, no appalling c .y
future troubles with the supposed perpetrators
the murder should be awakened.
The strangest feature at the time of
as we have before intimated, was the darfrlfvp!
in which the source of this rumor was involwL >
and yet no man was hopeful enough to discredit
it entirely.
Farther details of the unhappy event, were
soon in circulation, with as little illuminating as
to the source. How mysteriously painfull ru
mors travel, and how potent are circumstantial
details, even without authority, which follow in
the wake of the first sad intelligence to increase
the apprehension of the friends most concerned.
Atherton, it was known, had left the city in a
private conveyance with a view of spending a
night in advance of the stage with his friends at
Melbourne’s farm. The next day the stage was
to take him, and thus he was to resume his jour
ney. The conveyance which took him to Mr.
Melbourne’s returned ; but the rumor succenfing j
it, no light could be gathered from that quarter.
It was now asserted that Atherton, at the de
signated time and place, took his seat in the
coach. With several companions, half a day’s
journey was accomplished, when, to the conster- i
nation of the passengers, a deafening volley dis- :
closed an Indian ambush. The first discharge ;
unseated the driver, and the coach passed over
mangling his body pierced by a dozen bullets.
One of the horses 101 l entangled in his harness.
The other three, startled by the report, or stung
by wounds, plunged, dragging the carcass,
impetuously along the rugged road. Infuriated
by the yell in their rear, and turning into tho
woods, they dashed every thing to atoms in their
unchecked flight. If any of pas
sengers escaped the bullet and furious race,
they were reserved by a just Prov.
idence, for harsher punishmeilS preceded by
those cruel ceremonies which instincts
of exasperated savages could Aie suggest.—
Jjantalus with perpetual thirst, with
melons impersonalities ot the devil; and it in
the guise of a gentleman he passes current in
respectable circles, it is a character assumed
, for a specific purpose, and lasts only as long as
it is necessary to arrange tho preliminary
train to a daring spoliation. It is well known
that the genus homo whilom abounded in these
parts. The influence of this character over the
savage was almost inqrcjjjjdq. ’I he übiquity ol
of Indians, at the in- I
stfgalion of*this scourge of the new settlements,
who worshipped no God hut his own cupidity,
and knew no distinction between meum et tuum,
despoiled without a twinge of remorse, the farm
liouaq. and rioted upon the plunder of a belated
traveller, while the arch-fiend surreptitiously
pocketed all that was valuable of either. If this
surm/se were true, the lawful owner not only lost
the [ifze, but lost it with the assurance that the
imVaiest thing that hears the human face fritter
ed it’away in the orgies of intoxication, and the
won anness and abandonment to every form of
vice
i T e unhappy young widow, while her first
i grie(was in all the freshness of its vigor, receiv
| ed lib purport of the sickening intelligence—that
ire*- list protector —that brother who had so
pronely perilled life in her cause, front whom
she (ad never known any thing .but kindness and
devotion to her interests—who liad supplied tho
place of father and mother—had come to an un
timely and cruel death while in tho very act of
furthering her welfare.
The fearful reality seemed palbably passing
over her soul as keenly frigid to its fibres as
the Sirocco, which benumbs the sensibilities of
r the Italian peasant. Fortunately this stale was
succeeded by insensibility—whether thus to re
main until her pure spirit should be borne upon
-MBwiugs of angels to the permanent place of
with her brother and husband, or to lie
awakened to the deep conviction of the re
liH of her bereavements, and await with chas
spirit ami Christian fortitude, the mandate
SjHdi should break off the chains of mortality,
from the future details of this story.
HHHHpi'i -nns have had such overwhelming
vi-.it them so early in life. Gentle
lj yoiirsell in a similar position, over
two sta ll afflictive Providences as
Burned’ to have befallen Mrs. Wayne at
of life. Such pictures
j u, > pur the “oil)of joy” into tffle soul,
wounds was as fully appreciated as he
Any thing less makes “our expectations
vain, and disappoints our trust.” How appro
priately may it bo said, that oftimes the expec
tations simply founded upon contingencies, with
no confidence in a superinducing Providence,
are but bubbles upon the ocean of human exist
ence, which, though they may sparkle in the
sun-light of hope, the very power that gives
them expansion is an element of destruction.
(To he continued.)
AVhat Savannah Has Done.
A WORD TO THIS PItKSS OF THE INTERIOR.
! Several of the presses in the interior of the
Slate, in alluding to the recent Macon Conven
tion, have expressed some surprise at what
they are pleased to call tho ‘apathy of Savan-
I nah.’ They ask why Savannah remains inac
tive while her enemies are plotting against her
with a view to divert the trade and travel of the
day to another city. They have kindly advis
ed us to bestir ourselves, or we shall be left
! behind in the race ol improvement. This is
! all meant well, and is received by our citizens
i in the spirit with which it is said: but our
; Iriends in the interior, and we are proud to call
them such, will excuse us for saying they pos
sess an imperfect kn< wledge of what this city
! has done in the work us advancing the interests
i ol the State. We propose to look into the matter, i
i The people of Savannah, in their corporate j
capacity, and as individuals, contributed neatly
53,000,000 for the construction ot the Central
Rail-Road, which is now in successful opera
tion, and is the longest Road in the Slate, or
in the United States. They contributed 830,
j 000 for the Macon ft Western Road, subsetib
|ed in connection with the Central Company
8130,000 for the South-Western Road now in
.ir mm F.... U t ‘■>. 1
over the rivers and mountains of our noble
Commonwealth, but she has extended them o
ver the broad Ocean, and invited to her wharfs
the commerce of other continents. Unlike oth
er portions of the Slate, she has largje shipping
interests to attend to, as Rail Roads,
Manufactures, and Still thcie is a
small fraction of the offspring
her enterprise
tato to call lr.*r
the people here have*done their power to
cultivate that spot, and makwt bloom and bios
som as the rose, a few of the objects of their
kindness have turned upon us now that they
have received the benefits of our labor, and
threaten to destroy us ! It is not Saturn devour
ing his offspring, but tlie offspring devouring
Saturn. The people of Georgia will not stand
idly by as spectators of this unholy matricide.
There is an iron patriotism, a stubborn love of
justice, at the bottom of the Georgia character,
which will rebuke the attempt and put the mat.
ter right. To this august tribunal we submit
the subject.—Saw. Rep.
From the Model Ameiican Courier.
The Wicked Magistrate.
A TOUCHING REMINISCENCE.
Some years ago, while an apprentice, my
master gave me a hill to collect on an Alderman
in the lowerpart of the city. On calling at his
office I found the Squire, and handed him the bill.
‘Sit down, my man,’ said he, ‘and wait a few
minutes, while 1 go over to my house—(which
was opposite)—and gel the money.
In a low minutes he appeared with tho money
in his hand—all in silver. lie handed me his
receipt book, and while 1 was writing the re
ceipt, he counted the money and laid it on the
desk beside me. After I had finished I picked
up the money and counted it, as I had had fre
qiicnt charges to do so by my master, who was
very particular in his business transactions.
‘There is not enough, 6ir, by two dollars,’ said
I, after I had counted, it and handed him the
money back to re-count. He looked up from
his docket, for he pretended to be very busily
engaged in writing,—and told me to count it a
gutS, for he was sure he had laid the whole of
bill by me. I re-counted it on his desk,
laying <yich dollar by itself, and it showed just
lwt>dollt,.g short. j,
‘I coSlti swear,’ sakf the Aldjrimn, in a vio. j
lent passion, ‘over a cart-load of Bibles, that I j
gave you the whole of the money. \ou must
have put it in your pocket. So go home with
A’ou, for I am very busy, and cannot be inter
rupted. I dare say you will find the money be
fore you get there.’
I began to cry bitterly on the imputation of
being a thief. 1 told him 1 could not go home
without the money—that my father had lately
died and left my mother indigent, and the addi
tional trouble of such au imputiuiowycast upon
her son, her only comfort, as she often in
her affliction, 1 knew would kill
here,’ said I, turning my pockets wrong sK
out, ‘you can see I did not put it my pockets. —
Oh! sir,’ continued I, as the great worth of a
good name presented itself to my mind, and my
miserable situation if I should lose it, —‘do noi,
for Heaven’s sake, ruin my character, by send
ding mo away without the whole ol the mo-;
ney !’
‘lt it well,’ said the Alderman, in a rage, j
‘that I have no officer here, or your master.
would find you in prison !’ and taking me by the j
arm, he put me out of doors.
I walked some distance homeward, and then
sat dfiwn to reflect on what I should do.
‘Heavens !’ thought I, what shall l do /’—
j To go to my master without the money I could
| not, as he would certainly believe the Alderman
i before me ; and to go to my mother would be
i only adding to her trouble, as 1 knew she could
I not help me, as she barely made enough by
I her daily labor to supply even her own moder
| ate wants.
i What a situation for a high-spirited boy to be
j placed in, by a man who had children of his
j own ?
j The very night before, iiyfemforting my moth-
1 walked slowly up tho street, and in a few
minutes was joined by my cousin, who handed
me her purse. •
‘Be particular,’ said sho, on parting, ‘not to
say anything to your mother about it, as 1t would
only unnecessarily trouble her, and I will like
wise never open my lips about it, but keep it
quiet.’
And here I would like to linger and describe
nance—-her meek and lovely
and pure benevolence; —but I must resevve it
for another occasion.
I went home to my master and handed him
the money; lie counted it, and said it was all
right. I pulled off my coat and attempted logo
to work, but could not, as my heart was too full.
I sat down on my bench,find began to cry as if
my heart would break, for'my sore trial and es
cape had overcome me, now that it was over.
‘William,’ said my master, in astonishment,
calling me into the next room, out of the way of
the rest of the boys, ‘what can have happened! X
saw when you caine in you had been crying,
but thought you might have fallen and hurt your
self, perhaps, or been hurt.’
I briefly related what had occurred in the
Alderman’s office^, hiding, however, the fact that
he had sent mo away without the balance of
the money.
A few months afterwards my master told mo
he had been sent for by the same Alderman, to
take the patterns of anew set of books ‘But
you said he bad treated you so shamefully, Wil-
Main, that I determined to have nothing more
to do with him, so I told him we could not tnako
them.’
flow fervently I thanked God for this mark
of confidence in my master I—none can realize
but those who have been placed in similar cir
cumstances.
But I will not prolong (to me) a melancholy
reminiscence further than to say that I have liv
ed to see tho just retribution of Heaven fill
upon that unjust magistrate ; his office taken
from him, his character a by-word, and himself
a fugitive from justice, and obliged to end his
days, separated from his family in a foreign
land.
VVe should be careful, I know, not to call
Misfortune by the natiq, of Retribution ; but if
there be a sin before high Heaven greater than
others, it is stealing the character of a poor
Widow’s hope—-her Son.
New Jersey, July 21,1849. w. i.
A Philadelphian in California. —A let
ter from a gentleman formerly of this city, who
is at present in California, is published in the
North American. He states how he employs
his time, and how he is paid for it.
[Phila. Ledger.
‘lf you have to pay high for what you get,
you also charge high for what you do. Until
my goods arrive and business offers to me, 1 am
at work with my pen, translating Spanish in
'oices, making entries at tho Custom House,
&LC., drawing maps, &c., and have received as
high a* £l2O per day for my labor; $50,00
and SBO are common, and if I don’t make S3O
to S4O, I ci aside.- it a bad day’s work, and get
low spirited. I drew a bond, one page long,
the other day, and the man gave me S3O of his
own opt ion. It cost me ten minutes to do it.-
I draw maps in a day, for which I get four
ounces, and have more orders than I can fulfil
| for want of drawing paper. I would give an
ounce a sheet for large size. Labor of every de
scription is high. Melius, Howard A: Co.’s cart,
man. gets SOOO a year, and his board ami lodg •
j ing. Jack-knife carpenters receive sl2 to $lO,
j shipwrights S2O per day. Sailors SIOO to
; S2OO per month; pilot on the river SSOO a
j month ; lumber sells for $350 per M., drinks
j 25 cents, (rot-gut,) and if you can get a break
fast or dinner for less than $1,50, you have got
a small stomach, for mine will contain threo
such meals very easily. Now as to the future.
Gold is plentiful, hut no one can say how long
it will last; appearances indicate many years ;
but appearances are deceitful, and it may be so
No. 36.