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J.A.TI'Rm EDITOR.} VOLUME I, INDEPENDENT PRESS. “ Without Fear, Favor or Affection.” eatonton, GA. SATURDAY MORNING. SEPT. 23, 1854. Secretary • fittrry's l9tenfa loons. The New Turk Ttcmli "often amuses itself over Secretary M a rev's nether garments, and frequent allusions are made by the press generally to the said articles, As some of our readers probably do not understand the point of the joke, we here publish Mr. Mar cv’s letter in regard to his pantaloons, which w.ll explain the affair. It seems that when Mr. Marcy was comptroller of the State ot New York, he frequent ly would not pay accounts against the Suite, because they were lumping charges, not specifying the different items ol the accounts, lie did tins to prevent frauds upon the State Treasu ry. Afterwards, Marcy became one cf the' judges of his State, and as the law provided the payment of the ju lgo s expenses in holding the special circuit, Judge Marcy kept a very nice account of every item of expense in curred by him, in order to do for the then comptroller of the State what he bad r.- others to do when he had tiie nonor of being that officer. It stems that on account of having sat j down too much he rubbed a hole in his pantaloons: Or he might have run 1 against a snag and got them torn.— Ihe record does not speak upon this ‘ important point, lint at any rate the i Judge’s breeches had to be mended ! and the tailor charged 50 cents for it ■ —which item, along with other items ; of expense incurred by the Judge on ! his circuit, went to the State treasury, j according to law, for payment. The j newspapers of New York got up a tremendous merriment over the sub- ; ject, and Marcy, who was then a State j Senator a* Albany wrote the subjoin ed letter. This was twenty-two years ago. But the lapse of nearly a quar ter of a century has not sufficed to do away with the joke about the Hon. Secretary’s pantaloons. This letter, it is proper to say, was published in 1845 I in Boston, along with a good many j other documents and papers by Wil- j liam L. McKenzie who professed that i they came originally from the custom I house in New York, where they had j been left by Jesse Hoyt, Esq., custom | house officer. Senator Marcy to Jesse JlavL New Private.] Albany, lGtli Oct., 1882. My Dear Sir —Your letter of Mon day evening! received this morning, and with it a breeze "from the South, that gives some of our folks a chill. The opposition pretend to have cer tain information that Ritner is elected. Though we do not yield to this be lief, still we are less confident than we were yesterday of Wolfe’s Election. As to the Pantaloons affair , perhaps lam not the per. on best qualified to advise. Though the charge was right in it self, yet it must be regarded as an, un fortunate one , because so easily turned into ridicule. 1 showed your production to Flagg —he thought it very well, but seemed to think it was a little too formal. The enemy will have their laugh, but I hope it. will not do much mischief. The true explanation is simply this — When Comptroller, I bad always made war on lurnpnng charges, because I was satisfied many frauds against the Slate had been perpetrated by them. "The law provided the payment of vhc Judge’s expenses in holding the ;Speoial Circuit. 1 kept a particular recount of them which was handed to the Comptroller. While on this business some work was done on Pantaloons, for which the Tailor charged Fifty cents ; it was en tered on the account, but went into the Comptroller’s hands without a partic ular reflection how it would appear in print. - / feared no danger for 1 knew no sin. Jean not advise how it to best to treat the subject. 1 . The article in the Argus, headed iI A very grave affairf is perhaps as luih ■an explanation as the, transaction wIJ idmit cf ' But .it will be well to eon lffict it, if much must be said on it, with the great frauds and peculations of Holley, Van Tuyl, John V. N. Yates—(who I believe for loVe of me writes many ot the scurrilous articles in our papers,) in appropriating about SBOO of Peddlers’ License Feesg&c., Now as to mg JVar Service?, (f more Agreeable subject,) I was out two cam paigns—in Qjn tfte northern Iron* H- oA»lrrli[ii soiinnt(:-|)ttiotd) to $ itcnrturc, folitirs, anit General Ulisteltoitii. ! tier—belonged to the party which took ' from the enemy at St. Regis the first stand of colors taken in the late war, | on land, and the first prisoners (about ! 10 in number.) These prisoners were in a house built ;o! square Umber. I personally head led the party that took them—myself j broke open the house, entered it and I took from the hands of the soldiers i their arms, «ke. I eare not how much this matter is 'inndfiA, Tftiliar tk-'v would let m y pantaloons alone. I return your remarks. Yours, Ac. W. J,. Marcy. %h(\n. FOR THE INDEFBXDEKT I’KESS. (No. 10.) Oh upbraid not the Bard- Oh upbraid not the bard, if a tear in his cyo Should dim for a moment the gladness around, And breathe no reproach if the shade of a sigh Mid the light and the mirth of your presence be found. If your eye, that is sparkling with love, should re flect The memory of hopes that are blasted for aye, You will blame not a tear for the joys that are wreck’d, Nor a sigh for the dreams that have vanished away. If a smile on thy face should recall to his mind The glow of the cheek which ho won for bis own, Upbraid not the eye, though to beauty not blind, Which tells of a heart that is widowed and lone. If a word from thy lips should awake in his heart Vibrations of chords that so long have been still, You will deem it not strange that it leap with a start, That his breast with the throbbings of memory thrill. Then upbraid not the bard if a tear in his eyo Should dim for a moment the gladness around, And breathe no reproach if the shade of a sigh , Mid the light and the mirth of your presence bo found. Spring of ’4B. l. l. % ®aie. FOR THE INDEPENDENT PKE9B. 1! E N T W 0 L 1): A TALE OF FLORIDA AND GEORGIA. ' BY T ( Con tin tied .) CHAPTER. VIIT. Fitzwarren’strunk came almost im mediately on the arrival of the party at the house, and Frank called George jV j E^nxxra: xA-m J A room. George came, Lowing and flourishing in his best style, as Frank said to him “George show this gentleman to his room, and attend to his wishes.” “Yes sir.” “And George,” said Henry, “don’t put blacking on his patent leathers, if he should hand them out to you to clean.” “Mars Harry,” answered George, evidently much taken- aback. “Mars Henry, what makes you desagerate dat little mistake so much? You are al ways trying to throw some ’spersions on my character.” “You can’t deny that you did put blacking on that officer’s patent-leath ers, when became over from the bar racks and spent the night.” “You’ll make dis here gentmun fraid to trust me to wait on him,” said George, “i’ll tell how it was, sir,” lie continued, turning to Fitzwarren. “Cap’ll Hunter give me out his boots one night in de dark and told me to clean ’em, and didn’t tell me dey were made of patent leather, and I blacked em just a little —before Dave brought me a light. He was slow after I. told him to bring me a light. ’Twas his fault. Aint, dis de true restruction of de circumstance mars Frank ?” “I believe so,” said Frank. “You hear dat mars Henry ?” said George, triumphantly. And then ta king up a light, while Harry stood laughing at him, he approached Fitz warren with his politest bow and “beg ged to have the honor of reporting him ’to his retirement.” “The supper bell will ring in twen ty-five or thirty minutes,” said Frank, as Fitzwarren followed the darky off.” “And Mr. Fitzwarren,” said Harry, “better watch your patent-leathers, while George has his blacking about.” To this last sally George 1 turned to EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1854. lepl v, but seemed to think better of it anti kept on in silent disgust, lie led llte way to a broad stairway, up which he took his course. Arrived at the landing, lie turned square to Ids' left and continued his way past several doors, til lie arrived at the last one on that entry. _ Into this he conducted the guest, where he found his trunk, i ke. After .shut ting 1] i c door, the nc jgro opened a closet and showed him a bath, with towels and everything nc | cessary, for a bath and a toilet -after ward. He then went out, remind ing bitzwarren teat lie would remain within the sound of the bell. The luxury of the bath was indulged in as long a time as he could spare, so as to leave enough of thirty minutes, in which to make his toilet. This last completed only a moment, when the bell rang for supper. Fitzwarren des cended the stairs and proceeded to the drawing room, where he found the family assembled. lie offered his arm to Helen and they proceeded to the supper. But little conversation had passed be fore Frank exclaimed abruptly, “I have never yet told you all how b got acquainted with Mr. Fitzwarren. I wil! now tell you of the service he rendered inc.” “Better let it pass, I think Mr. Bent ley,” said Fitzwarren. “Oh I cannot,” answered Frank.— “Never mind, I will spare your mod esty as much as possible. Last Sum mer you all recollect I was on the wing frequently, after the rest of you had located for the season. During my excursions among the mountains, I met with a great many South Caroli nians. Os late years—ever, since they took that crazy notion to dissolve the union—they have gotten in the habit of spending their summers m the northern, part of Georgiy, instead of going to Saratoga, Newport, <£k< 'ac they used to do. I mean that a good many do this—not all however. Well I do not quarrel with them for 'this. It is consistent at least. Among these South Carolinians, I can say I have met with some of na tures noblemen. Some of the most high-toned, refined and true hearted men I have ever known. ] have found their gentlemen . to be the very soul of chivalry —in spite of the ridi cule which has been attached to the word by the conduct' of tlieir low-bred, vulgar pretenders. But besides these gentlemen —and too few of this kind visit Georgia —whole swarms of low, ignorant scamps, of snobbish, cod-fish aristocrats, of arrogant, purse-proud parvenues and Ui" • oqiiTeiirpsstoW g, v ■ ; ,, pyisli idiots, infest the watering places and summer retreats of our State, like swarms of locusts. “When Morton Devercux had ex cited the anger of the Abbe Dubois, the latter, when Morton next went, to make his court to the priest, turning his back upon him said : “The plagues of Pharok are come again—only in stead of Egyptian frogs in our cham bers, we have the still more trouble some guests —English adventurers.”—- For the words “English adventurers,” substitute the words, “South Carolina snobs,” and we can very well apply the sarcasm to these empty headed swells.” “Fiank,” interrupted Mr. Bentley? at tliis point, with a sly smile, “are you to tell us what happened with you and Mr. Fitzwarren, or are you going to forget all about *it, in. your tirade against these etulti f To be serious though, it is attaching too much im portance to them, to waste so many words upon them. They are only ob jects of contempt.” “I stand corrected,”’said Frank.— [am using too many words concerning them. But this much I must say— that as the true gentlemen of South Carolina stand pre-eminent among gen tlemen, so their swell-heads and snobs stand pre-eminent among people of tlieir class. And lam Sony to add that I think there is a greater propor tion of the latter class in South Car olina than in most southern states.- The high position occupied by their men of refinement, seems to delude them into the belief that the very name of South Carolinian entitles them to special deference and atten tion. But to proceed. I stopped for the, night, on one occasion last 'summer, at a tavern in a small village among the h'ITMtO(;T M'lftn, iVifOCl Oii jmJtTRW” | mountains, where there was not a sin i gle man I had 'ever seen 'before. At the same house where I stopped them was a party of some half dozen of the sub stratum class I mentioned. They were sitting in the piazza of the tavern when I arrived, smoking, and conversing in a very loud consequen tial manner. Seating myself on the other side .of the piazza from them 1 took out, a Tewjqihper to while away the time till' supper. Fol some mo ments 1 paid but little attention to the snobs, but finally they bjgan to in dulge in witless sarcasm on Georgia and Georgians. It soon beccine evi dent from tl ieir manner, and till glances they directed toward me, tint they thought I was a Georgian, and that their object was to insult avid annoy me; thinking that as I wasaione and I apparehtly a stranger, I would not dare lo resent any thing they # migllt be pleas ed to say. Perceiving thus, I rose and walked overgo them and, with a low, bow, and in my Blandest tone, said, j “Gentlemen, I conclude, from the significant .glances with which you have honored me, that you intend the. remarks in which you have indulged to be an insult to me—thinking that I am. a citizen of Georgia. Will you be pleased to inform me whether or not L . . f , I am correct in my surmise?” To this, one of them replied, coolly enough, and in a jeering tone: “Really sir, I am at a loss to con ceive by what right you ask the ques tion. We have not, that lam aware, addressed a single word to you, and as you are an entire stranger to us, it cannot he presumed that we knew that anything we said would prove of fensive to you,” “Whatyou say wears some, appear ance of plausibility,” said I in an swer. “I will no + say what bad taste and want of delicacy you display by wm.igiKMjU,.-) ill-n; lured and would-be witty remarks concerning a people in the presence of one who is to! you. as you say “an entire stranger”/and who may by any possible chance 'belong to the people you are undorratfeg. Waiv ing all discussion, and to cut the mat ter short, I will say that you did, by your manner, give me reason to sup pose you were offering me an insult, and you gave me a ri lit to require at your hands an avowal or disavowal of an intention of this kind.” “And suppose,” said their spokes man, “that I should refuse an explan tion ?” “Then’’ said I, “I shall demand the satisfaction due from one gentleman to another—-that is, provided you are ■GygpTrbCi -VaaiL • I “And suppose,” again answered the snob, “that I should refuse to aj.low you any satisfaction ?” \ “Then sir,” was mv reply, “I si all be under the necessity of degrading myself low enough to pull your nolb, or strike you in the face.” \ “But have you a friend present ” asked he. “No, but I can procure one by noqr to-morrow.” “Yes but” said he, now perceiving a way to escape from his dilemma. - “ Yes,but if I meet you it must pet this very evening, as I am compelled to leave this place early to-morriw morning.” • I now lost my temper, and said to him “If you arc a gcntfefian. sir, you. will wait a few hours in’ the morning I y ° and give me a meeting. If you con sent now, immediately, to do so, I yill meet you as a gentleman. If on (lie contrary, you refuse, it will prove taat you are a cowardly scoundrel arid ho gentleman; and I shall avenge mysilf by knocking you down.” This I was determined to do dud then let them do their worst; fori I was well armed-—travelling in the mountains it’s bestyou know. While, however, I was allowing the crave! a short moment to decide, a gentleman whom I had not perceived bffore, stepped up and said, pouching .me on the arm, \ “I happened to ste\ out into the piazza j u§* as yon rose tNhddress this party, and have every word which has passed betvfeen you, al though. I did not liea the remarks which gave rise to tb controversy. From your’manner and rearing, I per-, eeive you are a genii man. I am a Georgian, and my names Fitzwarren. Ts you ‘will allow me o act as your friend in this matter, I think I can ar range it for you without your proceed ing to the extreme measure you spoke I of.” ' “All this he said iti that calm and subdued but dear and firm tone which I have since found to be char acteristic of the man. ’ I believe if I. had been blind, I should have been convinced, by his. words an sound ■ gentleman, T immediately surrender ed fny cause into his hands, with the stipulation that I must have a meeting or an ample apology, Fitzwarren was referred, by snob to one of his friends, with whom he retired. It required but a few of his cool firm words to bring the opposition to a decision.— The matter had proceeded too fur for an apology eyen from a coward; and we met next morning and exchanged shots. I put a bullet in Snob’s should er—l did not care to hurt him much— and came oil’ myself unscratchcd.” “ You may be sure- I cultivated an acquaintance so well begun, and Eitzwarren and I travelled together several weeks. On parting with him t begged him to visit me atßentwold; but do you think he wasn't going to leave St. A to-morrow morning without even leaing me know he was j in our vicinity ? Fortunately, in look- ; ing idly over the hotel register, I saw his name and almost dragged him 'home with me.” ' During most of this recital, Fit a war-' rpnwas abstractedly sipping his tea, qr dallying with his toast. He seemed scjarceL conscious that any one was sfcaking except occasionally, when solmetlfing was said in his praise, when Lis faint smile of mingled melancholy a/id bitterness would flit over his fea tures, and then his abstracted manner would come back again. When the recital whs ended, iie looked enquir ed waM Mr. Bentjy, who said. “You merit our grutit for what you did sir, and I should have regret ted extremely if' you had not allowed us an opportunity to display it.” Fitwarren bowed, and turning to ward Mrs. Bently, in a tone deep and grave, and altogether different from his ordinary refined and conventional accents, said, I felt assured that the father oi such a son as yours, would thank me for the part I acted. But in your eyes and those of Miss Bentley, I fear that this recital has lowered me, as much as it elevated me, in the opin ion of Mr. Bentley.” “X on acted, I suppose,” began Mrs. Bentley, “from a noble impulse ; and -W'huimlse. madam,” interrupted Fitzwarren. “I acted from muug xn tablished principle of conduct : and one which I think I can support with argument; though this is not the place or the time for it. Y r ou have your own views on this point, and it is by them I must stand or fail, in your es timation. But I humbly beg your pardon for interrupting you. Please say on.” “If you had persuaded my son to fight a duel against liis inclination or judgment, then—excuse my candor— I should hate you. As you assisted him in carrying out an intention lie had already formed—and as it was one which he and you and Mr. Bentley consider a justifiable one, however much I may differ with you in opinion, I am bound to thank you for the as sistance you rendered him.” As ‘She finished, Fitzwarren turned to Helen and said, “And you Miss Bentley—has your brother’s recital lost me your good opinion ? ” As lie spoke, with Helen’s dark eye bent full upon him, in spite of his hab it of severe self-control, he could not avoid a slight tremor in his voice—so slight that it was uuperceived by all— save, perhaps, Helen, with her wo man’s instinct. She answered, and the answer Was like balm to him. “My mother has expressed my feel ings exactly ; and I must add my thanks to hers. But oh ! brother,” she 'added, turning to Frank, “I know you do not fear man, and I should despise you If I did; but do you not fear the demon remorse.?.. Suppose you had killed that man 1” “Kill him ?” said Frank. “I had no more klerfof killing him, after we had agreed to meet like gentlemen, than I had of killing you, at this moment.” “Shoot at a man and have no idea of killing him ?” said Helen in surprise. “Exactly so.” “ And suppose,” rejoined. Helen, “you had killed him accidently ?” “No danger of that,” said Frafilc.— “I can handle a pistol- too well, for that.” “You were right Frank,” said his father. “We should not attempt the itferof tr~Mfow‘man' ott • emff but rk gravest pretexts. At the same time, the puppy deserved punishment. ’ “But think,” said Mrs. Bentley, “of the risk Frank ran of being killed him self.” ’ “That I was willing to do” 'said Frank. “Os course there -is some risk in all duels. But there is no more, j where you are well acquainted with 1 the use of the pistol, than there is in mouutinsr horse-back. -for. instance. “Oh you are mistaken Frank.” “No lam not. At least, thete is as much- danger in riding over some of | the gullies and down some of the hills j I have seen you and Helen rido over. Suppose your horse were to fall in going down Wild-fire hill ? ’ “I should think though” said Helen, “that where your antagonist fired very quick, even if. you were the best shot, I you might be killed, before you had \ time to lire,” “Perhaps so,” said -'Frank, “but 1 fire quick myself. My motto is “fire quick and trust to fortune.” “Come” said Mr. Bentley, “You la | dies know nothing of these things, let us adjourn to the parlor.” They all left the supper-room. They spent an hour or two in conversation, and in listening to Helen's mnsic--for she was a musician, by nature.' Fitz warren, though not a performer on any instrument, was a passionate lover of music, and was capable of appreciating it when it was good. While in the draw inn-room, the. organ-like tones ftf a magnificefit ffiano had accohipaiueu - Helen’s voice, but the whole party fi nally went into the collonnade. Here Frank produced a guitar, ion which he had learned to play 1 , and lie, and his father, and Helen sang some ol Moore’s delicious melodies. They sang them, in spite ol the fact that they had gone out of date, because they considered them pretty. The three possessed fine voices, and they, and the tinkling of the guitar, echoing through the grove, almost induced Fitzwarren to foi/get his melancholy ; and lie went to his room that night with feelings more pleasant than he had known for many a long day; and a letter ho received next morning added to his pleasant feelings. It happened in this way. When he descended to breakfast, at rather a late -itwiii fie louiiu, ■tying by his plate two letters. A boy went early every morning to bring letters and papers from St. A- ; and that morning Fitwarren’s name had been added to the list of those whose letters were to be sent to Bentwold. He found the family, at the breakfast ta ble reading newspapers, &c., and as he came in Mr. Bentley said, “Good morning Mr. Fitzwarren.— There are two letters for you, which you will open without ceremony, while we are engaged in our own reading.” Fitzwarren broke the seal of the first, and his brow grew dark on read ing it. The reading of the second caus ed liis brow to clear up, and when Mr. Bentley was through with his paper, he said to him, “I fear I shall have to trespass on your hospitality longer than I at first anticipated. The business which was to have cabled me away is settled.” “I am right glad of it,” said his host, “You could hardly have made an an nouncement which would please me better.” “We’ll have a glorious time” ; said Frank. “I must make you know some of the greatest girls you ever met.” “Yes, and better than that;’-’ said Mr. Bentley, “you need not fear that cough to which you alluded last night, so long as you remain in this climate.” “You do not know how long I have been troubled with it Mr. Bentley,” auswered the guest, in his calm, gentle tone. Why, I am almost a confirmed consumptive.” “Hardly so bad as that yet, I hope. I dabbled.a little in the study of the Esculapian art in niy young days, and learned something of the nature of consumption. Yours cannot be auy- [TERMS, $2,00 a YEAR ✓ NUMBER 23- I thing - like a confirmed case of this dis | ease.” “Well,” answered Fitz warren, “sup* I pose it is not. It is at least beyond the influence of climate.” ; “Give me leave to differ with you. —• I I have had an opportunity of observ ! ing the progress of eases worse than yours; and have seen them cured : ; in’glv, blit Mr. Bentley continued, “h.speak sincerely when I say that if you would sp-nd a winter with us, j the climate, and the exercise you would !be compelled to take to be sociable, would cure you.” .“I am not very easily convinced, 'tfhea I know a thing so well,” said ; Fitzwarran; and observing a sympath- I izing glance rest on him from all, his ! strange pride r<:\ ■ -,L at it, and ■he continued, . - “I must not allow my complainings I to engross your attention. It was very wrong in me to qieak of myself as an invalid, as 1 did last night, and I promise not to offend again. Pray, Miss Bentley, what ladies were those you were expecting next week ?” And thus he turned the conversation from himself, and smothered in his own breast the melancholy feelings which were preying upon him—hiding them 'from the eyes of his kind hosts. His question to Helen was put in a tono of gaiety that surprised, her. However, she answered in a tone equally gay, “Well there is, to begin with Mrs. Holmes, a gay dashing widow —tall, graceful and commanding as a queen. She is not more than twenty-five, years of-ago cither, if she is a widow.— Then there; is Miss Morton, a quiet, pensive, and exceedingly lovely girl. And Miss Laura Banks, the most live ly fascinating and mischievous Hebe vou ever saw. Besides there is- 1 —” “Angels'of goodness!” exclaimed 1 "*\V riyfc ■ t iitiir-w • watg- So mhViy htid such fascinating ladies to beseige qnly two bashful youths!” “Oh! you must not flatter yourself that you will have no more formidable rival than this brother of mine.” “Why, what other shall I have? ’ “We expect, according, to father’s account, some exceedingly gallant cav aliers ; but as to the peculiar excellence of each, Lam rather in the dark.” “She knows ’em all, wull enough, here broke in Harry, “but some of ’em arc her beaux and she’s ashamed to say much about ’em.” “Henry is angry,” said Helen, “be came I did not include him in the . list of rivals,' Mr. -Fitzwarran has to fear.” ' "Yes, 2 ’ said Mis. Bentley, “we all know Henry .itLLss.Alortou..as. iiis own sweetheart?' . * "‘.l" “La. mother, I don’t,” *exciaimed Harry in the utmost confusion. “It seems to me,” said Frank, “that Harry is not the only jealous person age present at this time.” “Ah!” said Helen, well knowing! what he meant, “Pray explain, Mr. £ Frank.” “Why hare you hot failed t-6 men tion the most lovely lady you are ex pecting? What but jealousy could have induced you to leave out of your list the modest, the beautiful, the wild, the dignified, the mischievous, jj|Q kind-hearted, the merry, the passive, the reserved, the fascinating 1 Hate Morgan ? “Why a desire to-■'heal a raphsody from you, induced mc.’^p| v “Perhaps you ma|j|'know some of the expected guests,pur. Fitzwarren," said Frank, sud<g|ly changing tlie subject.” \wtjkg . “I have nipt MimpklincP,” was the answer. t “Well, pcwhaJfyou know Charley Hampton, or Blly Morton, or Jack Harper?” “I havc. no acquaintance with them,” answered Fitzwarrep. I have fre quently heard Mr. ITanipton spoken of ■though.” ■ JSfca,,,, “Well, you must get lie M sketch them for you: but I believe ready declined the task. AY er says . Jack Ilarpor is a jolly tiJpK somewhat refined and exceedingly alt u complished, nevertheless.''’ M “Pes,” said Mr. Bentley, ® great singer, and plays on the gfttar. ’ “So be it,” said Frank “ThenUfcere is William- Pitt Morton, who, iufete'< of his high-sounding name, is a clojtt .good-hearted fellovv.- Oharl'ey UarfSflit