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» [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] I THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCEBB OF COFACHIQUI. y BY L. VIRGINIA FREXCH. >De Soto, on learning that there was a country to the North East, abounding in gold, pursued his \% route in that direction. He entered the territory of ]* Georgia, and, crossing successively the rivers of that State, rested upon the banks of the Savan -9 nah, immediately opposite the modem Silver y Bluff, situated on the east bank of the river, in / Barnwell district, S. C. Here lived a beautiful > young Indian Queen, whose realm embraced the adjacent country to a vast extent She crossed V the Savannah in state, and, after an interesting interview with De Soto, invited him and his o chi valric followers to partake of the hospitalities of her capital. Many curious and interesting J incidents of his sojourn here are related by the "X historian, GarciUasso de la Vega, and a brief y account may be found in Irving's Conquest of Y> Florida. 9 Old minstrel-harp! with dreamy chime, w - Strike thou in rude, and artless rhyme, JT The glories of that olden time, { When Narvaez with his galleys came; nj When Ponce de Leon's thirst for fame, Y And dark De Soto’s heart of flame, Vj Had bade them leave Castilian bowers, ) To seek for Fortune's golden showers, ® In this, our fabled “Land of Flowers.” a How changed the scene! nor glen, nor rock, J Shakes to the charging squadron's shock; Y Where rolled the din of Indian war, / The hunter's bugle sounds afar; \ Where loud the fearful war-whoop rang, y The church-bell peals its mellow clang; vj And later yet—when heroes braved A tyrant King, and proudly waved The “stars and stripes” o'er gallant dead, o' When Marion fought, and Jasfee bled; J Where poured the shot its deadly shower Y Tall spires, and stately cities tower; / Where ponderous portals hoarsely jarred, \ And sentries walked their sleepless ward, * The dancer's light and twinkling feet ~ Keep time to music soft and sweet; The pillared hall, the peaceful cot, As Stand fair on many a storied spot * Where raged the battle fray; 9 And where red fields were lost and won, W (At evening’s close, their labor done,) J The maid and matron, sire and son, n And bright-haired children, many a one, jf Have humbly knelt to pray! H. 'Twas not of this I meant to tell; But how one summerVmorn it fell, Jv That bold De Soto's warriors brave J Lay camped beside Savannah's wave. Y The gray lark cradled on the cloud, / Poured down his carol long and loud, "X O'erpowering all the singing rills; ffl The mist from off the far blue hills, In white and slumbrous shadow-folds, Flowed droopingly away. Beholds A The rising sun so fair a scene, As greets him in that valley green ? 9 There 'neath the crimson-tinted skies v The river's ripples sink and rise; T Soft fallhighere in low cascade, ■v Coquetting there with light and shade, m Yet holding still the glorious heaven, Y And sending back the radiance given— \> As some fair child of mortal birth, V Won by seducing joys of earth, Still makes her soul of heaven the shrine, o And sheds an influence half-divine 1 J. ' Up from the waking camp rose high f The bugle's note, and blood-hounds cry, if Harness and armor’s ringing clank, J, Echoed along.the river's bank; f Shrilly the charger's sounding neigh V) Blent with the hum of rising day, Mailed cavalier, and Indian scout, Mixed with the soldiers stern and stout, o' While sunlight glanced o'er steel-clad breast, / Pennon, and shield and knightly crest, Y And Spain's broad banner floating free, / In all the pomp of chivalry 1 Y With soft, sweet trilling of her waves, V) Th’ opposing bank the river laves; J In light it lay—its quivering shades, w The dew-bright verdure of its glades, « By balmy breezes, freshly fanned— ' Was this the dark-browed hunter's land ? r* The shore is broken, bold, and there ' Thin smoke-wreaths on the crystal air J. Show where a lovely Indian town, y From bluff to river stretches down. Lay on tho shore like banks of snow, m Close sheltered by a verdant screen o' Os tall palmetto groves between; 7 Magnolias dark, the Southron’s pride, Y And giant live-oaks branching wide. / The snow-white lines extending far, \ Yet broken and irregular, 3? Resembled more some martial camp ~ Close on the verge of verdant swamp, Than towns the soldier’s heart retains Towering on Andalusia's plains. X As peering out the trees between, Full soon a motley group was seen; w An Indian guide adown the ledge T Stept cautious to the water’s edge, ■\ And summoned them at once to send Some herald, counsellor or friend ' With whom the “Spanish Chief” might speak, V And message send to their Cazique. » IV. o' Soon parting from the village shore, J A large canoe six warriors bore— Y Soon touched its prow, th' opposing strand, / And light the strangers leaped to land. ~\ Mature of age appeared they all, Yet lithe and sinewy, dark and tall, ' Each stalwart arm, I ween, could wield Y The axe, and bow, in chase or field; 4* Firm in its gaze each falcon eye, * And full of native dignity 9 Each mien, (to such, unconscious how, The herd of common spirits bow;) J Each dark brow bore a coronet -s Os plumage of the paroquet, jw Kude rings of gold each bosom graced, r And from a girdle round each waist, Y Peace-pipe and battle-axe were hung. J Tho outer mantle round them flung, « Was marten skin, and clasped with gold. 9 With stately step and bearing bold, <, And ceremonial grave, yet brief, JT They made due reverence to the “Chief;” I One low obeisance to the sun, J. One to the westering moon, and one y To brave De Soto,—as they cease, V) Demanding: “ Would*'l thou war or peace f" Such quaint array and question free ■ft The younger gallants smiled to see; o' But the bold chief, with ready grace, J Repressed of ill-timed mirth the trace, Y And met them with such courtesy / As meets the flower of chivalry, \ Replying, as he grasped each hand— w “Peace, and a passage thro’ your land I” ms NRXSU VZSXdI MMM SXSSBXSS. The messengers returned, to bear His wishes to their Princess fair: She heard the brief request—and soon She bade that at the hour of noon, Her barge of state should ready be, And she this stranger chief would see. 'Twas noon—slow swept the barque from shore, Twelve rowers grasped the painted oar, And, flashing at each sturdy stroke, The limpid wave in spray-beads broke: Close pressing on, the swelling tide Kissed the gay galley’s gleaming side, Before her prow the eddies cnrlcd, And in her wake the foam-globes whirled, As bearing on, in splendors drest, Like sun-cloud sailing up the West, a So soft, so still the fairy boat Thro’ seas of lustre seemed to float And strangely beantifril was she Beneath its crimson canopy, (With broidery quaint, impearled and lined,) On purple cushions half reclined. On either side, three maidens stand. Their task to woo the breezes bland. Huge fans of painted plumes they swing, And oft in glccsome chorus sing, Whene'er it lists their princess take Her evening sail on stream or lake : But now each mellow voice was hushed. Each cheek with expectation flushed— Yet stay—the barque has touched the strand, The lovely Queen prepares to land. VI. Maintaining still his knightly fame • The “Chief’ to meet the Princess came, Attended by a train of peers. The choicest of his Cavaliers; Then many a courteous phrase was said, And many a compliment was paid, As crossing to the water’s verge, He led the ladye from her barge. As up the glittering ranks they passed ncr dark eyes on the ground were cast, Then lifted with instinctive pride. Why should they see her cheek was dyed With burning blushes, or her mien Less lofty—was she not a queen? Brilliant and beautifril, and young, Like to a beam from Eden flung Lighting the wilderness, she shone, Or one bright star in Heaven—alone. Her low arched brow lay sweet and fair, Half hid in coils of raven hair, Os crimson flowers a coronet Lay glowing ’mid those braids ofjet; Sandaled her feet, her mantle's fold (Like fabled huntress of the world.) Was o’er one shoulder hung with care, The other, dimpled, smooth and bare, Was sweet as Dian’s own, and bore Her polished bow and quivered store Os reedy arrows. Pearl-bands graced Her arms, her bosom, and her waist, The gorgeous robe of changeful sheen, The easy grace, the noble mien,— Well might Castilian courtiers gaze. And murmur low their deep amaze 1 VII. On rustic throne the Leader sate, The Princess took the chair of state Which six of her attendants bore, And placed upon that verdant floor; Her maidens grouped around her chair, And all the camp had gathered there— Knight, squire, and page, and savage tree, A mingled, “motley companic.” Oft questioned then De Soto bold, Where lay that famous “realm of Gold,” Os rulers fierce, of warrior guard. The way, the dangers, the reward; Asked much anent the Queen's domain, Her lofty line, her gentle reign, And prayed her of her courtesic, To grant him guides and passage free. His speech and quest made known to her, By Ortiz, the interpreter, Were answered prompt and graciously, And he her hospitality Was prayed t’ accept until the day Him listed journey on his way. Her brow was calm, her eye was kind, Fit index to her noble mind; Her voice was musical and soft; Such tones we hear at twilight oft, When through the deep magnolia groves, The spirit of the south wind roves. Lopez, a courtly Cavalier, Thus whispered in Ills comrade’s ear, — “Didst ever dream, Gonsalvo, here To find such face, such form, such mien. All we can image of a queen ? Sueh regal air might well comport With graces learned at Leon’s court— By'r lidy 1 at her shrine I’d kneel. Treason though ’twere to our Castile!” VIII. The Princess lightly now unbound A chain of pearls, which thrice around Her graceful throat and bosom wound; She wished, it seemed, the token bright, To tender to tho noble knight; A symbol of her friendship's plight— And yet that modest bashfulness Which veiled her beauty’s rich excess, Soft, delicate as clouds that lie Athwart the summer’s noontide sky, Checked on her lip the words she fain Had spoke herself. She blushed again, Then, wMlc her large and liquid eye Drooped its long fringe, reserved and shy, To Ortiz quick she turned, to pray Him give her gift, and say her say; But Juan Ortiz, gallantly, Declined, and on his bended knee,- Declared the “ Governor ” would deem The present valueless from him. ’Twas truth, he swore, its worth were none Bestowed by hand save hers alone 1 The maiden mused—anon a smile O'er her fuir features stole the while, And wheresoe’er its lustre broke, New beauties one by one awoke; Then, with an air, subdued yet free, And frill of maiden modesty, She rose, advanced, and laid the band Os jewels in De Soto’s hand, And would have turned away—but he A moment stayed her courteously. Drawing a jewel richly chased From off his hand, he gently placed The circlet on her own—and sighed: “ Faith, truth, and honor with thee bide!’’ IX. By this the evening, sweetly slow, Came stealing on—tho sun was low, Bright clouds along the west had rolled Their burnished splendors, fold on fold; The vallies darker grew, the heights Now caught, now lost the changing lights; The river murmured on its way, The red-bird hushed his cheerful lay— Then haste! while yet the day-flres burn The lovely Princess must return. As the white sea-mew bows to lave Her bosom in the sparkling wave, Swift o’er the water's darkening blue The snowy-sided shallop flew, The intervening space shot o’er And struck the margin with her prore. Shades of the Past 1 the minstrel fain Would tell how In this charmed domain The chieftain and his followers staid. Enchanted by this noble maid, Delighted all to find such grace. * So kind a heart, so fair a face, In such a lonely dwelling-place. It may not be—they parted all From Cofachiqui's royal hall, Not, sooth to say, as lover parts, Yet, leaving with a thousand sighs, The load-star of a thousand hearts 1 The cynosure of thousand eyes! In after years the maden queen Still reigned beloved, with brow serene. And, tho’ brave suitors sought her side. No dark-browed warrior, called her bride. At times, 'twas said, a shade was drawn (Like dewy clouds, about the dawn.) Across her beauty's light, ah! well. The why the minstrel may not tell! Forest Home. ■ + [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] 808 MARK'S SUNDAY AFTERNOON'S DRIVE. OR TIIE STRANGER AT OLD ELLISON’S. BY NOM DE PLUME. The town of Greensboro' in Georgia, ''days long syne" boasted superior attractions, many of which it retains to this daj*! It was, at the period of which we write, surrounded by ricli cotton fields, being in what was termed the “ black belt" of our State, and was noted for its wealth, the beauty and accomplishments of its daughters, as well as the intelligence and gallantry of its sons. Besides, it was a town of much political importance, as well as of elegant society—num bering among its inhabitants many an eminent man in each of the learned professions, upon more than one of whom, then and since, the highest honors of the State have been conferred. It was the residence, too, of one who in his time was distinguished as the leader of the great “Crawford Party," when that party was press ing the claims of William H. Crawford for the Presidency, in opposition to Jackson', Clay, and the younger Adams. We allude to tho Hon. Thomas Cobb, who represented, so ably, Georgia, in the Senate of the United States, and whose fame as a statesman was not limited to his see vion, but was national. In truth, Greensboro' was then the “ Head Quarters" in Georgia for Politics, Law, Literature, Religion and Fashion. Though not embracing so large a population as Augusta, nor a tith scarcely of its commerce, still the influence of its leading men was far more potent than that of any other city or town in the State, and was felt even in the legisla ture thereof for many years; while the young men of that Boro' were far advanced over other sections of Georgia in the fashions, and we re gret to add, in the follies of the times. Greens boro’ was indeed a town of importance then, and if eclipsed since in other sections of the State, to the power of the steam-engine and an extended territory must be attributed the de cline of the supremacy. It was a delightful Sunday afternon in the month of May, in the year 182—, when two elegantly dressed young men in “ seer sucker" pants, white vests, and “ pigeon-tailed" blue cloth coats with enormous brass buttons, (the fasliion of the times) might have been observed opposite the hotel in Greensboro ,’ discoursing on the mode of passing away time that hung laggard ou their hands, and we may add, feet also. Tiie first, to whom we shall apply no name, proposed that they should both attend divine service at the church of old “ Doctor Camming," then the most fashionable place of worship in that goodly town; but the other, who is the hero of our story, and to whom we shall give the fictitious appellation of “ Robert J larr," while professing the highest respect for that reverend Doctor’s eloquence and orthodoxy, upon some trivial excuso declined the repast for his soul to which lie was invited by his friend. The truth is, “Marr" had only a few days before became possessed of a fine horse, and also of a “chaise," then a most fashionable vehicle, but long since, save in remote regions, gone out of use. The horse was a good 5:40 nag in harness; while the chaise was new, richly ornamented and painted, the red predominating over all other colors. After some little hesita tion, a ride into tho country was proposed by “Marr,” which being agreed to by his friend, “ Sir Archy" was harnessed up just in time to leave town, as its fair belles were “tripping it” to church, and with a mental reservation on the part of “Marr” that the drive should be extend ed no longer than the hour at which church de votions should cease—when the same fair de moiselles, as a matter of course, would be re turning, piously inclined no doubt, to their homes. In this mode of procedure ‘'Marr’’ designed to accomplish three things. First, to enjoy the drive; second, to get a sight of the girls, going to, and returning from church; and third, to dis play to them his fine equipage, fine driving, and elegantly dressed person. So it was agreed, and just as the bell chimed the church-hour, away sped “ Sir Archy" with our friends through all the principal streets of the town, and, as it ceased, away sped “Sir Archy" into the country. We have said that it was a delightful afternoon in May, and so it was when our hero started on his drive; and so it continued to be until he had reached a distance of some three miles from town; but, behind, was a storm—one of those terrific thunder storms so sudden in the South— so rapid in their approach, as well as departure. It came, therefore, upon our gay young gentle men, without scarcely a note of warning. To return was impossible; to push on to “Old, Elli son's," somo mile or so ahead, was all that was left them to avoid not only a severe drenching, but tho danger attendant upon the falling limbs of trees, and of falling trees themselves. The whip was applied to “Sir Archy," who, poor fellow, it is said, made his mile then a few se conds within 5:40, reaching the point of safety just in time to avoid the full fury of the storm. And who was “Old Ellison,” at whoso house “Marr” and his friend took refuge ? He was, reader, an honest, independent, worthy old far mer, who, all his life, attended to his own busi ness, and let that of his neighbors alone. He had moved when young, from “Old South Caro lina” to Georgia, and had many years before the opening of our story, settled in Greene county, near to Greensboro, and was content to pursue the occupation of a farmer, in which pursuit he thrived. Kindly in his nature, hospitable and charitable, just in all his dealings with his fel low-man, “Old Ellison” was respected in all the country round about, and would have been pop ular, but for the fact of his hostility to the “Craw ford Party," which was as decided as hostility could well be, and from which he could neither be persuaded nor driven. His neighbors all be ing tho other way, and politics running very high, “Old Ellison” was very little troubled with company, and but for the storm, our two friends would as soon have thought of putting their feet into the fire, as into the good old farmer’s house. There was, however, a necessity as we have shown, and into it they went, consigning “Sir Archy" and the chaise to the attention of a servant. But the quiet of “Old Ellison’s” house had pre- viously and recently been disturbed. The even ing preceding the adventure of “Marr” to which we have referred in the foregoing, a traveler at tended by his servant, both mounted upon fine looking horses, rode up to the front of the house and asked of its owner accommodation for the night. Although clad in homespun and negli gently attired, there was something in the ap pearance of the stranger singularly attractive and commanding. He seemed to be some fifty five, or sixty years of age; was tall, erect in his deportment, and active in his movements. The invitation to alight was promptly spoken by “Old Ellison,” and it was not long ere the trav eler and mine host were upon the most familiar and gracious terms. It was strange, but true, that never before in years did “Old Ellison” ap pear so cheerful and happy as he did in the en tertainment of his guest. Why, the reader will learn ere the conclusion of our story. The following afternoon brought the storm to which we have adverted, and with it “Marr” and his friend. While “Sir Archy” and the bril liant equipage of our hero were being cared for out of doors, the two friends entered the house and took seats. Near to one side of the chim ney sat our traveller of the preceding evening, quietly smoking his pipe. A glance at his home spun apparel was all that “Marr,” upon his en trance, bestowed upon the stranger; and, in re ply to the latter’s courteous salute and congrat ulations at their having escaped the fury of the storm, our hero was more supercilious than po lite. Be it remembered that “Marr” was in his Sunday suit; that he was from, and of Greensbo ro', and that the stranger before him was nothing more than a plain, old fashioned-looking country man, who, perhaps, had never seen before a “ pigeon-tailed blue," or a pair of “seer sucker" pants. For a while there was silence ; but this could not last long. If vain of his attire and accom plishments, “Marr” was rather social than other wise ; was possessed of a lively disposition, and loved to talk. His faults were only those of young men of a certain age, when dress and the belle of the village monopolise a large share of their time, and politics the balance. Situated as our hero now was, his fashionable attire might as well have been in his trunk, as there was no “fair one” present to admire it; but to quietly sit in silence, awaiting the passing away of tho storm, was repugnant to his nature. Ho was, for a time, in a perfect fidget, and must talk. — Turning, therefore, to the stranger with a de cidedly patronising air, he enquired : “From whence come you, stranger ?” “From Tennessee, my young friend,” was the quiet reply. “ Tennessee /’’exclaimed “Marr,” “then I pre sume you have seen, and, may be, know Old Jackson ?” “ I have seen, and do know him,” replied the stranger. “Well, it is said,” responded our hero, “that Crawford will beat the old fellow in Tennessee, in the coming election for President; what do you think of it, old gentleman ?” “I should think not,” replied the stranger. — “Though Mr. Crawford has many admirers, and warm political friends in Tennessee, yet my in formation is that he cannot get the vote of that State.” “ Then who the d 1 will, if such a man as Crawford can’t get the vote of Tennessee?” vehemently exclaimed our hero of the “pigeon tailed blue." “Why," responded the stranger, “there is Clay who has as large a party in Tennessee, as your favorite, Mr. Crawford has; then Adams is as strong there as either of those two; but I do not think Crawford, Clay, or Adams can carry Tennessee—at least, I must frankly say, I hope not.” “ Then, who will,” again queried “Marrwho will, if Crawford, the first statesman in the Union, don’t?” “ Since you press the question, my young friend, I will answer you. My opinion is that Tennessee will cast her vote for Andrew Jack son,” was the calm response of the stranger. “ Je-ho-so-phat /” said our hero, “Andrew Jackson, that blood-thirsty old tyrant 1 Ten nessee vote for him ? Why, old gentleman, you must be mistaken! General Jackson is no statesman t" “That may be true,” replied the stranger; “ but I trust he is a patriot, and if the people elect him President, I am certain, and I think Tennessee thinks so too, that he will stand firmly and honestly by their interests, and will do naught to stay the progress of tho country. Others may think differently. It is their right, let them exercise it!” “ But, old gentleman,” again put in “Marr,” “the country will be ruined, should Old Jackson be elected. Everybody knows that but for the battle of New Orleans, he never would have been thought of for the Presidency.” “Your last remark may be true, young man,” replied the stranger; “and yet, incidents far less important in their results to the country than the battle of New Orleans, have caused more than one of our-public men to be jpoken of in connection with the Presidency.” “My dear sir," (said our hero, who began to grow warm and eloquent,) ‘it is the opinion of our first military men, that Jackson is entitled to no credit for the victory at New Orleans. — Many of them say that he committed great blunders in preparing for, and in fighting that battle.” “ Will yon be pleased,” said the stranger, “to name one of those 'first military men' to whom you have just now referred ?” “Well, I can’t do so just now,” said “Marr,” hesitatingly; “in fact, I get my information from my friend Cobb — Senator Cobb, whom, I pre sume, as you are from Tennessee, you don’t know —who is posted up in all such matters, and who, in Washington City, has conversed with officers in the regular army; none of your militia men. Cobb says the battle of New Or leans, as it is called, was no battle at all—that it was simply the ‘storming of an entrenchment’ of British troops, who were repulsed in the at tempt—nothing more.” “And did not,” asked the stranger, “the brave Americans who so gallantly repulsed the British in that assault, deserve credit for their valor, if Jackson did not?” “Oh! of course the Americans fought bravely, but I have been told that Jackson committed a great many blunders, and came very near losing the fight,” said “Marr” with renewed confidence. “Who told you that f" was the prompt enquiry. “Well, I believe,” said our hero, “it was Cobb —yes, it was Cobb !" “Why, my young man,” said the stronger, “your friend Cobb appears to be your authority in all things. He should be more careful in im parting knowledge to you.” “Oh! yes! Cobb is high authority,” said M. “He is the greatest man in Georgia, and will be President himself some of these days. It was only the other day I heard him say that Jackson’s temper, aside from his defective education, was an insurmountable objection to him in his can didacy for the Presidency.” “It is an objection,” said the stranger, “and I think no one will admit this more freely than Jackson himself; but I trust it is not an insur mountable one.” •‘Yes it is, though,” said M. -‘The old fellow is a perfect tyrant, sir. When he gets in one of his ways, he is not to be controlled. His best friends dare not go near him. He would murder them if they dared to approach him.” The stranger, smiling, asked: “Who gave you this description, or character, of Jackson, my son?” “Why, Cobb,'' said M. “He knows him well. Saw him at Washington when he went to beg the Senate to release him from the fine imposed upon him by Judge Hall, for not submitting to the civil authorities ” Our hero had no time to finish his speech. He had got as far as the words “ beg the Senate" when the hitherto calm and self-possessed stranger suddenly rose from his seat—with con tracted brow, the hair of his head on end, and with a voice almost equal to the thunder that had a short time before been pealing above, he exclaimed, advancing with outstretched arms to ward our hero, “And that too. young man, you got from Cobb, I suppose! By the Eternal!" But our hero heard no more. The voice, the attitude, the height, the indignant bearing of the whole man, so terrified him, that he involun tarily backed to the door to make good his escape. Here, however, he was intercepted by "Old Ellison," who added greatly to his fright, by saying "Bobby, Bobby, my son, that is General Jackson himself, whom you have been abusing so much!” Out of the door and to the stable hastened our hero, followed by his friend, who was no less terrified at the awful anger of the stranger than was “Marr” himself. The storm, fortunate ly, had passed away. “Sir Archy” was soon harnessed to the chaise, and fast as was his time to "Old EUison's," when the storm was behind him, it could not compare with that made, as he streaked it back to town. Arrived there, almost the first individual whom our hero met, was Cobb himself. To him was communicated the intelligence of General Jackson’s being at “ Old Ellison’s," and such portions of his adventure there as our hero at first chose to relate. Cobb, however, soon drew out the whole of it, through the friend who was present, and the subsequent reluctant confessions of our hero. Those of that gentlemen’s friends who are now in the land of the living, and who remember “his keen relish for a joke,” will not be surprised when they read that upon a door-step which was near at hand, he sank convulsed with laughter at the strange incidents of that Sabbath afternoon, the presumption and terror of our hero. In a few hours, Greensboro' was alive with the intelligence of General Jackson’s arrival in the neighborhood. Early on the following morning, a “Committee of Citizens” waited upon the “Hero of New Orleans,” and invited him to partake of the hospitalities of Greensboro,' which invitation was graciously accepted. On the next day Greensboro' was crowded as it has never been since, nor ever was before. In the “Old Court House,” which was graced with the presence of the “fair of all the country round,” and with the intelligent and patriotic men of “Old Greene,” the General received as hearty a welcome as was ever bestowed upon him during his eventful life. All were Jackson men on that occasion. For one day, at least, the name of Crawford was hushed in a town where it had been upon every tongue for months be fore. It was a merry day, indeed, in Greensbo ro ! But one among all that gathering of women and of men, wore a shadow upon his face. Need we write that that one was the “hero of the drive ?” From early morn till near meridian, he cautiously avoided the eye of the stem old mili tary chieftain. He could not forget many of his unfortunate phrases—“ Old Tyrant“ Storming an Entrenchment;” “Cobb said this ; and, Cobb said that I” But with all his caution to avoid the eye ®f “Old Hickory,” it seemed he was fated to stand once more in his dreaded presence.— When they did meet, there was no anger, but a merry twinkle in the eyes of the “Old General.” Taking our hero kindly by the hand, he whis pered in his ear: “My young friend, whenever in after life, you would speak disparagingly of any one, be careful that you know to whom you address yourself.” We can aver that our hero has profited by this advice. Jackson has gone to his home in the land of spirits, but our hero still lives to tell this story, as none but him can tell it, respected by all know him. “Old Ellison” was of the family of that name in which Jackson passed many years of his boyhood. The General, as is well known, was passionately fond of a good horse. He, at the period referred to, was on his way to pro cure one of fine blood from a gentleman in Han cock county, and had determined to rest by the way, at the house of one who had been a com panion of his youth. Hence his presence at “ Old Ellison’s” house. Andrew Jackson NEVER FORGOT HIS FRIENDS ! Griffin, Georgia. Sea Worms. —Admiral Dupetit-Thouars has sent in to the French Academy of Sciences some extraordinary specimens of tlie destructive pow er of certain sea worms, consisting of fragments of vessels, which have been sent here from Toulon. Ho also sent in a glass globe a collec tion of those animalcule, almost invisible at their birth, which have the power of penetrating into the hardest timber, in which they take up their residence, and in the end totally destroy it These specimens are to be deposited at the Jardin des Plantes. They are perforated with almost mathematical precision, and the question which naturally arises is how vessels can be defended against the incessant attacks of these almost invisible enemies. M During the quarter which closed on the 31st of March last, the openers of dead letters in the General Post Office found 2,1-86, which con tained an aggregate of $10,292. For the quar ter ending 31st December, the number of letters were 2,745, with $12,035 ; quarter ending 30th September, 2,729 letters, covering $12,921 ; and quarter which closed 30th June last, 4,549 let ters, with $21,498. Total for the year, 12,209 letters and $56,678. Through the prompt and systematic arrangements of the office, nine-tenths of the letters, with a still greater proportion of the money, have been promptly and safely re stored to their rightful owners. _ ——- w Tonnage of niE World. —An English paper says •• “At present it may interest our readers to know the extent of the merchant marine, from which may be estimated the real maritime pow er. The tonnage of the world is about fifteen millions —the United States being first, United Kingdom second, France third, and British colo nies fourth; but if we take great Britain and her Colonies together, they amount to a trifle over • that of the great Republic. This is a sad change from 1813, when all the European ports were blockaded by us, not an enemy’s ship appearing on the ocean, except those of our cousins, with whom, as well as the great Napoleon, we were then at wa r. 91