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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.