HERALD OF
VOIJQ 1 .
PUBLISHHED WEEKLY,
JAMES ATKINSON,
PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. {
J()IIN F. TOWNSEND, has just receiv- ‘
ed from New York of the latest importations,
a supply of NEW and FASHIONABLE
GOODS, among which are : ;
Elegant Foulard Calicoes—French red Calico,
very fushionable in New York for children—A
large assortment of Merino Shawls, borders work
ed with worsted—"Thibet Casshmere and other
shawls much wanted at this time—Black Bobbi-|
net Lace Veils, cheap—White & Black Bobbinet
Lunces—Bobbinet Footing, a great assortment—
Irish Linens, nmeh cheaper tnan usnal—Cotton
hosiery, silk do. good and cheap—Mourning Ging- |
hams, (fast colours,)—do calicoes—s-4 blk Ital-|
lian Crape for veils—Good blk Italinn Lustring
—Ladies horse-skin gloves some of a superior
quality—Black and white Sattin Jean—thin Jack
onet—fignred do. and Swiss Muslins—superior
yellow nankins—elegant Swiss Capes—a great
assortment of Batistes—German & English Birds-|
eye diaper—wide English damask. Also—ele-'
gant belt Ribbons—Clark’s spool cotton—wad
ding—worsted braids—fancy hdkfs of all kinds—|
Jinen cambric hdkfs—a great variety of shawls, &c
for children—one piece superior steel mixed CAs-!|
SIMERE—one piece superb blue BroAncrorh
The above, with a variety of other Goods not
mentioned, will be sold as cheap as can be pur-|
chased in Newport. Ap 14, |
MISS BRENTON opened her school a
gain on Monday last, at her dwelling in
Church street, where u{ne contemplates making her
permanent residence, and flatters herself from her
present prospects, that she may establish a useful
Seminary for the education of young misses. At
the commencement of her next quarter she will re
ceive a few more scholars, June 30—3 w
JIENRY Y., CRANSTON, Jttorney
at Law, has removed his office to the|
House, directly opposite to and north of the C'ourt
House, where he may be found at all times his
office being contiguous to his residence. Here-!
after his time will be devoted exclusively to his pro-|
fession. [April 7. |
HARVEY SESSTIONS, has received and
opened this day, a complete assortment of
SUMMER GOODS---among them are the|
following: ‘
Dark and light prints, pink ginghams, French,
ditto, mourning ditto, brown battiste, colored ditto, |
cote paly, sattin levantines, pongees, brown Can-|
ton crapes, black do do., black nankin do; blonde,
gauze veils, Blounde do. hdkfs, fig'd gro de Nap do. |
imitation berage do; company choppas, green
worsted berage, women’s H S gloves and mitts, |
men’s HB. and beaver gloves, black Italian lus
tring, ditto sinchaw and sarsnetts, black worsted
jean, wave stripe drilling, brown French ditwos;
Rouen cassimere, blue and mixt cassinets, compa-|
ny nankins, striped jeans, women’s black cotton |
hose, ditto white ditto, men’s mixt and white do,i
ditto ditto § ditto, ditto Random § ditto, patent era
vats, blaek Italian ditto, merino white and red
shawls, do black shawls, plain white and colored
do; Valencia, Marseilles, and silk vestings, Russia
diapers, cloths, eassimeres, stripes, plaids, cheelis, |
ginghams, tickings, cottons, cotton varns, threads,
&e. all of which will be sold low for cash or ap-|
proved paper. Newport, may 19, 1830, |
]()IIN B. NEWTON has received from
@F New-York the past week, the greatest varie
ty of
Fancy and Staple DRY GOODS,
ever offered in this town.
3721 an endless variety of fashionable goods
at prices lower than ever offered, are any induce
ment for purchasers, they now can avail themselves
of an ‘extra’ opportunity, by applying instanter at
1 50, Thames-Streel.
Newport, June 9th, 1830,
MILTON HALL, has just received from
Boston, 50 flag bottom chairs, new pattern;
60 Windsor Chairs; 100 common do. at 50 cents
each ; 2 elegant sofas covered with hair cloth ; 1
common sofa; Mahogany and Card Tables; Cherry
do. ; common, field and high post Bedstead.—
Also, new and second hand Beds; live geese, Rus
sia and common Feathers ; Bed Ticking of supe
rior quality at 23 cents per yd.; 100 pair Prunello
pumps at 80 cts. pair; Cotton cloth from 6 cts. to
1 shilling yd; Broad Cloths ; Calicoes ; Men’s and
Boy’s Fur Hats ; 4 new and elegant Time-pieces,
warranted. Also, as usual, Groceries, Crockery,
Glass & China Ware.
~ .fllao'—l'ostley‘fl new and second hand COOK
ING STOVES, the above goods are offered
very low for Cash or short approved Credit.
JAMES MUMFORD, No 99, Thames-|
street, has for sale, blue, green and mixed
broadeloths; blue and mixed cassimeres; sattinetts;
fashionable calicoes, very cheap? FLondon black
and white mourning ginghams; black stout lor
ence silk; black gros de Naples; circassians; Fng
lish ginghams, ladies white and cotton hose, very
cheap; silk and cotton flag hdkfs; bobbinet lace;
white and black stout Engiish ladies silk gloves?
Swiss and Seotch musling furniture chintz; colored
striped jean; brown bateste; American Kid gloves;
black silk vestings; men’'s mixt eotton hose; great
assortment bleached and unbleached cottons, very
cheap; bedtickings; stout twilled stripe, for men’s
wear; home ginghams.
ALSO,
Assorted linens very low; pongees; horseskin
gloves; stout blek lasting; brown duilling; berage
hdkfs; Nainsook & jaconet muslin; fine yellow
nankeen.
JOB SHERMAN, has received from New
York and will open this day, a large assort
ment, of staple and Fancy Dry Goods, among
which may be found a great variety of English,
French and Seoteh Ginghams; Calicoes; blk. &
eol'd bombazine; Italian lustrings; gros de Naples;
gros de Swiss, a new article for ladies dresses; bl'k
and col'd levantines: nankin erapes; furniture
dimity; book muslin; plain and figured jaconet;
furniture chintz, vestings; rich faney silk; barage
and Cyprus crape hdkfs; fine linens and lawns;
8-4 linen damask, damask table cloths and nap
kina; ribbon; a great variety of cloths for children;
fancy buttons; silk and cotton hosiery white and
straw colored Navarino hats | "\‘ovm, &e.
Avso,—Just received a fresh supply of heavy
Oznaburgh, yard wide tow cloth, and Rusaia
Diapers. 4th mo 28th 1830, |
o SALE, a fino toned square Piano Forte
by A. MUNRO.
NEWPORT,R. I. WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 4, 1830.
THE MORAILJAST.
e "I'h’ only :nnrzurnmhilm flower on earth
Is*\;if'lfu- :f|||‘ on!yrl:uling—t_ro':mlrv, lrlglln:"__ =
ROUSSEAU’S OPINION
OR THE BIBLE AND ITS AUTHOR,
This divine book, the only one which
is indispensable to the Christian, need on
ly to be read with reflection to inspire
love for its author, and the most ardent
desire to obey its precepts. Never did
virtue speak so sweet a language; never
was the most profound wisdom expressed
with so much energy and simplicity.—
No one can arise from its perusal without
feeling himself better than he was be
fore.
The majesty of the scriptures strikes]
me with astonishment, and the sanctity of|
the gospel addresses itself to my heart.—
Look at the volumes of the philosophers,
with all their pomp: how contemptible do
they appear in comparison to this! Is it
possible that a book, at once so simple and
sublime, can be the work of man? Can he
who is the subject of its history, be him
self a mere man? Was his the tone of en
thusiast, or of an ambitious sectary?—
What sweetness! What purity in his
manners! What an aflfecting gracefulness
in his instructions! What sublimity in his'
maxims! What profound wisdom in his
discourses! What presence of mind,
what sagacity and propricty in his an
swers! How great the command over his|
passions! Where is the man, where lhc'
philosopher, who could so live, suffer and
die, without ostentation! When Plato
described his imaginary good man, cov
ered with all the disgrace of crime, yet
worthy of all the rewards of virtue, he de
scribed exactly the character of Jesus
Christ. The resemblance was so strik
ing, it could not be mistaken, and all the
T athers of the church perceived it. What,
prepossession, what blindness must it be,
to compare the son of Sophronicus to the‘
son of Mary! What an immeasurable dis
tance, between them! Socrates, dying|
‘without pain, and without ignominy, eas
ily supported his character to the last;
and if his death, however, had not crown
ed his life, it might have been doubted
whether Socrates, with all his wisdom,
was any thing more than a mere sophist.
Ilcinvented, it is said, the theory ol'mor-|
al science, Others, however, had bcl'orcl
him put it in practice; and he had nothing|
to do but to tell what they had done, nnd|
to reduce their examples to precepts.—
Aristides had been just, before Socrntcsl
had defined what justice was; L(:onidasl
had died for his country, before Socrutcsl
had made it a duty to love one’s country,
Sparta had been temperate, before Soc
rates had eulogised sobriety; and before
he celebrated the praisesof yirtue,Greece
had abounded with virtuous men. But
from whom of all his countrymen could.
Jesus have derived that sublime and purei
morality, of which he only has given us
both the precept and example? In the|
midst of the most licentious fana(icism,‘
the voice of the sublimest wisdom was
heard, and the simplicity of the most hc-‘
roic virtue crowned one of the humblest
of all the multitude. ‘
The death of Socrates, peaceably phi-i
losophising with his friends, is the most,
pleasant that could be desired! That of‘
Jesus, expiring in torments, outraged, re
viled, and execrated, by a whole nation,
is the most horrible that could be feared.
Socrates, in receiving the cup of poison,
blessed the weeping executioner who pre
sented it; but Jesus, in the midst of ex
cruciating torture, prayed for his merci
less tormentors. Yes! if the life and death
of Socrates were those of a sage, the life
and death of Jesus were those of a God.
Shall we say that the evangelical history
is a mere fiction? It does not bear the
stamp of fiction, but the contrary. The
history of Socrates, which nobody doubts,
is not so well attested as that of Jesus
Christ. Such an assertion in fact only
shifts the difficulty without removing it.-
It is more inconceivable that a number
of persons should have agreed to fabri
cate this book, than that one only should
have furnished the subject of it.
The Jewish authors are incapable of
diction, and strangers to the morality con
tained in the gospel, the marks of whose
truth are so striking, so perfectly inimita
ble, that the inventor wonld be a more as
| tonishing man than the hero, {
“LIBERTY and UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE !”—WEBSTER.
[ FATHER FORGIVE THEM, I
| * * % & * (Go, proud infidel—'
search the ponderous tomes of heathen “
Jearning—explore the works of Confu-,
‘cious—examine the precepts of Seneca
‘and the writings of Socrates—collect all
the excellencies of the ancient and mo-,
‘dern moralists, and point to a sentenco
‘equal to this simple prayer of our Savior
'—reviled and insulted—-suffering the
‘grossest indignities, crowned with thorns, |
and led away to die ; no annihilating
'curse breaks from his tortured breast.—
'Sweet and placid as the aspirings of a
‘mother for her nurseling, ascends the/
prayer for his enemies—¢Father forgive
!;them.” O, it was worthy of its origin,
~and stamps with the brightest seal of
truth that his mission was from heaven! '
| Acquaintances have you quarrelled ?,
Friends have you differred? If he who
l was pure and perfect forgave his bitterest
‘ enemies, do you do well to cherish your
anger,
’ Brothers, to you the precept is impera
tive—you shall forgive—not seven times,
but seventy times seven, |
! Husbands and wives you have no right
to expect perfection in each other. To
;err is the lot of humanity, Idleness will
sometimes render you petulent, and dis
‘appointment ruffles the smoothest temper. |
Guard, I beseech you, with unremitting
vigilance,your passions—controlled,they
are the genial heat that warms us along
the way of life—ungoverned, they are
consuming fires. Let your strife be oncl
of respectful attentions and conciliatory
‘conduct. Cultivate with care the kind|
and gentle affections of the heart. Plum:
not, but eradicate, the thorns that grow,
in your path—above all let no feeling of|
revenge ever find harbor in your breast. |
Let the sun never go down upon your,
| . 2 |
‘ anger. A kind word—an obliging a.c-‘l
tion, if it be in a trifling concern, has a’
power superior to the harp of David, in;
calming the billows of the soul. ’
, Revenge is as incompatible with lmp-'
piness as it is hostile to religion. Let him|
whose heart is black with malice, undi
studious of revenge, walk through the|
ficlds, while clad with verdure and adorn
‘ed with flowers—to his eye there is no
beauty—the flowers to him exhale no
fragrance. Dark as his soul, nature is
robed in the deepest sable. The smile
‘of beauty lights not his bosom with joy,
but the furies of hell rage in his breast,
‘and render him as miserable as he could
‘wish the object of his hate. ‘
g But let him lay his hand upon his
heart and say—*“Revenge, I cast thee
from me—l"ather forgive mine enemies,”
and nature has a new and more delight
ful garniture. Then indeed are the
meads verdant and the flowers flagrant
'—then is the music of the grove delight
ful to the ear, and the smiles of virtuous
beauty lovely to the soul.
! “Of all the myriad sources of enjoy-|
ment which nature unfolds to man, I
know few equal to these elicited by a
balmy summer sunset. The idea is old,
Il»ut the reflections it excites are perpetu
‘ally varying. There is something in
this hour, so tender, so holy, so fraught
with simple, yet sublime associations, that
it belongs rather to heaven than to earth.
The curtain that drops down on the phys
ical, also descends on the moral world.-
'The day, with its selfish interests, its com
mon-place distractions, has gone by, and
the scason of intelligence—of ima%i,na-l
tion, of spirituality 18 dawning. e,
twilight unlocks the Blandusian fountain
‘of fancy: there, as in a mirror, reflecting
all things in added loveliness, the heart
surveys the past, the dead, the absent,
the estranged, come thronging back on
memory; the Paradise of inexperience,
from which the flaming sword of Truth
has long since exiled us, rises again in
all the pristine beauty of its flowers and
verdure; the very s‘)ot where we breath
ed our first vows of love; the slender girl
ish figure, that, gliding like a sylph be
side us, listened entranced to that avow
al, made in the face of heaven, beneath
the listening evening star; the home that
witnessed her decline; the church yard
that received herashes; the grave where
in she now sleeps, dreamless and happy,
‘ deaf alike to the syren voice of praise,
and the withering sneers of envy—such
sweet but solemn recollections sweep, in
.shndow’:' pom? across the mind, conjured
up by the spells of twilight, as he waves
lhis enchanted wand over the carth.”
TWILIGHT.
From the New-England Weekly Review.
TIIE BEREAVED SISTER,
In the spring of 1824, T contracted an|
acquaintance in one of the cities of tlm‘
South, with a gentleman who had remov
ed from England to this country, with two
small children, the one a boy of ten
years, the other a girl of nine years of
age. These children were the most love
ly I evggsaw. Their extreme beauty,
their deep and artless affection, and
their frequent bursts of childish and in
nocent mirthy made them as dear to me
as if 1 had been the companion of their
infancy. They were happy in each oth
er and in the whole world of life and na
ture around them. 1 had known the fam
ily but a few months, when my friend was
compelled to make a sudden and unex
pected voyage to South America. His
feelings were embittered by the thnlnglntsl
of leaving his motherless children be
hind him, and I was on the point of em
barking for Liverpool. I promised to
take them to their friends and relations.
My departure was delared two weeks,
During that period, I lived under the
same roof with the little ones that had
been consigned to my charge. For a
few days they were pensive and made
frequent inquiries for their absent father;
but their sorrows were easily assuaged,
and regret for his absence changed into
pleasant anticipations of hisreturn. The
ordinary sorrows of childhood are but
dews upon the eagle’s plumage, which
vanish at the moment the proud bir!
springs upwards into the air to woo thel
beautiful flashes of the morning.
The day of our departure at last arriv
ed, and we sat sail on a quiet afternoon
of summer. It was a scene of bcauty,l
and my heart fluttered as wildly undjoy-‘
ously as the wing of a young bird in
lsxpring time. It scemed as if “man’s
;control had stopped with the shore” that
was retreating behind us, and left the
world of waters to give back the blue of
the upperskies as purely and peacefully
as the first Tioly Sabbath of creation.—-
The distant hills bént their pale blue tops
to the waters, and as the great sun, like
the image of his Creator, sank down in
the West, successive shadows of gold,
and crimson, and purple came floating
over the waves, like barques from a fairy
land. My young companions gazed on
those scenes steadily and silently, and
when the last tints of the dim shore were
melting into shadow, they took each oth
er’s hand and a few natural tears gushed
forth as an adieu to the land they had
loved. Y ‘
Soon after sunset, I persuaded my lit
tle friends to let me lead them to the
cabin, and then returned again to look
out upon the occan. In about half an
hour, as I was standing musingly apart, 1
felt my hand gently pressed, and on turn
ing around, saw that the girl had stolen
alone to my side. In a few moments the
evening star began to twinkle from the
edging of a violent cloud. At first, it
gleamed faintly, and at intervals, but a
non it came brightly out and shone like
a holy thing upon the brow of the even
ing. The girl at my side gazed upon
it, and hailed it with a tone which told
that a thought of rapture was at her heart.
She inquired with simplicity and eager
ness whether, in the fair land to which
we were going, that same bright star
would be visible; and seemed to rvgnrd|
it as another friend, that was to be with
her in her long and lonely journey.
l The first weck of our voyage was un
attended by any important incident.—
The sea was at times wild and stormy,
but again it would sink to repose, and|
spread it self out in beauty to the verge
of the horizon. On the eighth day the
boy arose pale and dejected, and com
plained of indisposition. On the follow
iing morning he was confined by a fever
to his bed, and much doubt was express
ed as to his fate by the physician of the
vessel. 1 can never forget the look of
‘agony, the look of utter woe that appear
ed upon the face of the little girl, when
the conviction of her brother’s danger
came slowly home upon her thoughts.—
She wept not; she complained not; but
hour after hour she sat by the bed of the
!young sufferer—an image of grief and
beautiful affection. The boy became
.daily more feeble and emaciated. He
THE TIMES.
;cuuld not return the long and burning
kisses of his sister; and at last a faint
‘heaving of his breast, and the eloquence
‘of his half closed eye, and a flush at in
tervals, upon his wasted cheek, like the
Ilirst violent tint of a morning cloud, were
all that told he had not yet passed “the
‘dark day of nothingness.”
l The twelfth evening of our absence
“from land was the most beautiful I had
’evcr known, and 1 persuadgd the girl to
go for a short time upon deck, that her
;own fevered brow might be fanned by
the twilight brecze. The sun had gone
‘)down in glory, and the traces of his blood- ||
red setting, were still visible upon the|
!wcstcrn waters. Slowly, but brilliantly, |
‘the many stars were gathering them to-|
gether above, and another sky swelled
‘out in softened beauty beneath, and the
foam upon the crest of the waves was
lighted up like wreaths of snow. There
:was music in every wave, and its wild
sweet tones came floating down from the
fluttering pennon above us, like the sound
of a gentle wind amid a cypress grove.—
But neither music nor beauty had a spell
for the heart of my little friend. T talk
ed to her of the glories ofthe sky and sea
—I pointed to her the star on which she
had always loved to look—but her only
answer was a sigh—and I turned with
her to the bedside of her brother. 1
perceived instantly that he was dying.—
"There was no visible struggle—Dbut the
film was creeping over his eye, and the
‘hectic flush of his check was fast deepen
ling into purple. 1 know not whether at
Efirst, his sister perceived the change in
(his appearance; she took her seat at his
iside, pressed his pale lip to her own, and
then, as usual, let her melancholy eye
lrcst fixedly upon his countenance. Sud
dently his looks brightened for a moment,
‘nnd he spoke his sister’s name. She re
‘plicd with a passionate caress, and look
ivd up to my face as if to implore encour
‘agement, 1 knew that her hopes were
;I)ut a mockery. A moment more and a
‘convulsive quiver passed over the lips nl"
the dying boy—a slight shudder ran
through his frame—and all was still.-—’
The girl knew as if intuitively, that her
brother was dead, She sat in tearless
silence—but 1 saw that the waters of bit
terness were gathering fearfully at th('irl
fountain. At last she raised her hands
with a sudden effort, and pressing them
upon her forchead, wept with the un
coutrollable agony of despair. |
On the next day the corse of the dead
boy was committed to the waters, The
little girl knew that it must be so, but she
strove to drive the thought away, as if' it
had been an unreal and terrible vision,
When the appointed hour was at hand,
she came and begged me with a tone that
scemed less like a human voice than the
low cadence of a disembodied and mel
ancholy spirit, to go and look upon her
brother and sec if he was indeed dead.
I could not resist her entreaties, but
went with her to gaze upon the sl(:cping‘
dust, to which all the tendrils of her life
seemed bound. She passed by the bed
side, and I almost deemed that her very
existence would pass off in that long fix
ed gaze. She moved not—she spoke
not—till the form she loved was taken
away to be let down into the ocean.—
Then indeed she arose, and followed her
lifeless brother with a calmness that might
have been from heaven. The body sunk
slowly and solemnly beneath the waves;
a few long, bright ringlets strcamed out
upon the waters, a single white and beau
tiful glimpse came up through the glanc
ing billows, and all that had once been
joy and beauty, vanished forever.
During the short residue of our voyage,
the bereaved sister scemed fading away
and beautiful as a cloud in a summer ze-|
nith. Her heart had lost its commmu-l
nion with nature, and she would look
down into the sea, and murmur incnher—‘
ently of its cold and solitary depths, and
call her brother’s name, and then wccpl
herself into calmness, Soon afterward
I left her friends. | know not whether
she is still a blossom of the earth, or
whether she has long since gone to be
aurtured in a holier realm, But I love
the memory of that beautiful and stricken
one. Herloveliness, her innocence, and
her deep and holy feelings, still come
back to me in their glory and quietude,
like a rainbow on a summer cloud that
has showered and passed off forever.
POLITICAL.
From the Pennsylvania Intelligencer.
ACTS DURING THE REIGN OF TERROR.
“Will Reward his Friends and Pumish
his encinies.”—Durr GTEEN.
| HENRY LEE, of Virginia, the se«
tducer of his wife’s sister—inmate of the
‘Hermitage, and writer of speeches, and
Secretary of the famous trip to New-Or
!lcans. '{‘his worthy was appointed by
|Jackson during the recess of the Senate,
‘Consul General to Algicrs——received
‘his year’s salary and outfit, amounting to
Nine Thouaamiy Dollars, but was rejected
UNANIMOUSLY by the Senate ! ! !!
. ISAAC HILL, of New-Hampshire
—the publisher of a false and slum{:rous
Ynmphlet against the wife of the then
President of the United States—the
charged libeller of Col. Upham the hero
of Fort Erie; rewarded by Jackson with
the office of 2d Comptroller of the Treas
‘ury,—a faithful officer being turned out
‘during the recess of the Senate,—reject
ed by the Senate by a vote of 33 to 15.
EIGHTEEN majority ! ! ! !
. SAMUEL CUSHMAN, of New-
Hampshire, during the recess of the
Senate rewarded by Jackson with the
office of District Attorney, but rejected by
the Senate for incompelency ! ! ! !
| JOHN'P. ])E({:ATUR—thc ring
leader in a certain riot, rewarded by
‘Jackson during the recess of the Senate
'with the office of Collector of the Port of
Portsmouth, in New-Hampshire in the
‘room of Col. Upham turned out—rejec!=
ed by the Senale by a large majority! He
‘was engaged with Hill and others, in
circulating the libel on Col. Upham.-
The citizens of Portsmouth in a public
town meeting, upon the news of his re
jection by the Senate, and as a testimony
of his great worth elected him Hog Calch
er ' !
. MOSES DAWSON, of Ohio, was
rewarded by Jackson, during the recess
‘of the Senate, when the office of Receiv
er of the Public Money, in the place of
a faithful and competent officer removed,
‘but has been rejected by the Senate by a
vote of 43 to 5, thirly-eight majority ! ! 1!
- J.B. GARDNER, of Ohio, was re
‘warded by Jackson with the office of
Register of the Land-Office, during tho
‘recess of the Senate, in the place of un
able and faithful officer turned out. Ife
was voad on a vail by the Democrats for
| abusing Mr. Mavisox and the late va-,
and was cxpelled from the Legislature of
Ghio, for RECEIVING A BRIBE!
He has been vejected by the Senate 17-
NANIMOUSLY !'!'! Bravo !—-DBra
lvo !!
SAMUEL MROBERTS, of -
nois, was rewarded by Jackson during
the recess of the Senate with the office
of District Attorney, in the place of S,
Brecse, turned out; but has been reject
ed by the Senate ! ! !
WHARTON RECTOR, guilty of
stabbing with an intent to kill, was twice
nominated by Jackson, with a knowledgze
of his crimes, for Indian Agent, but has
been twice rejected by the Senate, by a
majority of eight ! ! !'!!
M()fil)l‘l(’/\l M. NOAH, of New-
Y ork—the selt=styled Governor & Judgae
of Israel,—an editor that advertised My,
Adams, when President of the U. States,
as a run away, and offered a reward for
his apprehension, was rewarded by Jack
son, during the recess of the Senate,
with the office of Surveyor of the port of
New-York, in the place of an excellent
officer turned out, but has been rejectcd
by the Senate, by a vote of 25 too 23 ! ! !
Mr. Tazewell opposed to the Gover
nor and Judge, has obtained leave of ab
sence for the remainder of the session on
account of family affliction, and General
Marks is confined on account of sickness,
Under these circumstances, Jackson has
renominated Noah, and has again been
rejected by the Senate, and confirmed by
John C. Calhoun ! !
- AMOS KENDALL, of Kentucky,-
the ingrate, that, like the serpent, stung
his benefactor—that, swore terribly, nof
in Flanders, but before the Senate of
Kentucky, was, during the recess, re
warded with the office of 4th Auditor of
the Treasury, by Jackson—but has been
rejected by the Senate, and confirmed by
John C. Calhoun!! 111 IYT T 1Y
| The Senate that acted on the above
nominations, is composed of 26 Jacksonie
ans, and 22 Republicans! What a com
mentary on the reigning Chief of this
reign of terror and proscription!!
From the New Haven Register.
AFRICAN CELEBRATION.
Mr. Enrror.—l hab de pleasure and
de satisfaction to inform you ob de Lmr
ticulars which happened at de cellebra
tion ob de inderpendence ob dis country,
down to de Liberium Hotell in dis citty,
De companny was all provided wid a
pocket pistol, and dey fired in de day at
sunrize. At 2o’clock de procession gan
to form, and among dem was some ob do
fust peple ob culler in dis citty, Dey
den proceeded to the large room in de
hotcl‘, and set down to an ellegunt oie=
NO. 18,