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surprising performances of Mr. Rany,
may be the means of diffusing gome
useful ideas in this respecttlyougffout
the community. Whether there la yet
some unexplained means of influence
in the possession of these gentlemen
not shared by the rest of the commu
nity I know not; but one thing, I
think, is certain, that one great part
of the operating consists in gaining
and keeping the affections of the ani
mal by gentle approach and kind treat
ment. For this they deserve the
greatest credit although I believe they
are not the first who have succeeded,
by this treatment, in subduing the
wildness, changing even the native in
sticts of what are commonly regard
ed ns almost untamable animals. I
often saw, in the streets of London—
and I beliete the same thing may be
seen at Barnutn’s Museum in New
York—-what was called, “ The Hap
py family ” —a collection of animals,
in a large wire cage, most hostile in
their nature —cats and rats, hawks and
mice, owls and wrens, living together
in these cloie quarters in the utmost"
harmony and friendship. I asked the
showman what was the Secret of the
operation by which he brought about
those astonishing results. lie told
me it was persevering kindness. He
did not say in what particular way
that kindness was to be manifested.—
I believe that part of it consisted in
always keeping them supplied with
plenty of the food they were most
fond of, but it was persevering kind
ness.
I have sometimes, been led to mor
alize upon that trivial spectacle, as on
the success of the extraordinary ex
periments of the Messrs, llarey, and
to ask myself whether we may not de
rive from them a lesson which may be
of advantage to us in our treatment of
our fellowtnen. The best of books
says: “Go to the ant thou sluggard;
consider her ways and be wise.” May
we not go to the fractions and ungov
ernable horse, whose nature has been
changed by these gentlemen, and
learn how to treat our fellow men ?
Is the’nature of man so much more
obdurate than that of the wild zebra
and untamed horse, that what changes
their instincts and makes them gentle
and quiet would be all lost upon us ?
I do not believe it. The Messrs.
Rarey tell us that it is not strong per
fumes, it is not powerful drugs. No,
it is that ineffable charm of a soft ap
proach, kind words, gentle treatment.
This is'the true horse castor —this is
the genuine oil of rhodium that ena
bles the softened brute to read a re
proachful lesson to rational hutriahity.
If there is any oVe who doubts that
the horse is susceptible of the kindest
..feelings -of out
would be convinced of his erroreWF
most interesting anecdote of Edmund
Burkft. In the decline of Mr. Burke’s
life, while he was living in retirement
on his farm at Beaconfield, the rumor
went up to London that he had gone
mad ; and the fact that was started in
support of this rumor was that he
went round his park kissing his cows
and horses. A friend, hearing this
story, and deeming it of too much im
portance to be left uncorrected, has
tened down to Beaconfield, with the
view of ascertaining the truth of the
rumor. He entered into conversation
with him. Mr. Burke read to him
some chapters from his “ Letters on a
Regicide Peace.” ITis friend imme
diately saw that, though the earthly
tenement was verging back to its na
tive dust, the lamp of reason and ge
nius shone with undiminished lustre
within. He was accordingly more
than satisfied as to the object of his
coming down, and in a private inter
view with Mrs. Burke told her what
he had come for, and received from
her this pathetic explanation
Mr. Burke’s only child, a beloved
son. had not long before died, leaving
behind him a favorite old horse, the
companion of his excursions of busi
ness and pleasure, .when boih were
young and vigorous. This favorite
animal was turned out bj T Mr. Burke,
the father, into the park, with direc
tions to all his servants that he should
in every respect be treated as a priv
ileged favorite. Mr. Burke himself,
of course, iu his morning walks, would
often stop to caress the favorite ani
mal-. On one occasion, a3 he was tak
ing his morning walk through the
park, he perceived the poor annual at
a distance, and noticed in turn he was
recognized by him. The horse drew
nearer and nearer to Mr. Burke,
stopped,''eyed him with a most plead
ing look of recognition, which said, as'
plainly as words could have said, “ I
have lost him too;” and then the poof
dumb beast deliberately laid bis head
upon Mr. Burke’s bosom ! Struck by
the singularity of the occurrence,
moved by the recollections of his son,
whom he had never ceased to mourn
with a grief that would not be com
forted, overwhelmed by the tenderness
of the animal, expressed in the tnute
eloquence of holy Nature's universal
language, the illustrious statesman for
a moment lost his self-possession, and,
clasping his arms around the neck of
his eon’s favorite animal, lifted up that
voice which had filled the arches of
Westminister Hall with the noblest
strains that ever echoed within them,
and wept aloud.
Saying prayers every morning, then
yielding to bad habits every day, is
like a cow giving a good pail of milk
and then putting her foot into it and
turning it over.
To be deprived of the one we love
is bliss to living with one we hate.
(V\ rilien for the Georgia Weekly.) ™
• BV J. V BALL.
The evening buds were doting,
Their fragrance from the air ;
The lamp of death was burning,
A spectre 'round her there !
The birds had gone to dreaming,
And the wind was sad and lone ; ‘ • •
The moon in splendor was beaming
Ou my love, my Anna Vone.
When came a voice from Heaven,
A seda'e sound from above,
Saying that He had given
And must take away my love.
She closed her eyes very saintly,
She gave no sigh or groan,
And her pulse beat faintly,
My love, my Anna Vone.
My beart with sorrow quiver'd,
At the scene I'm long to mourn,
For her fairy spirit lihs hover’d
Around God's Holy Throne 1
And ns long as I can desire,
Os this world that’s sad and lone;
There will ev*-r be in my bean a fire
Fur my love, my lost Anna Voue.
The Old Men of Meriwether.
BY VIVIAN.
NO. Q.
Another of the “Old Men of Mer
riwether,” whose life and character
we might study with profit and pleas
ing interest is Francis Jeter—born
near Petersburg, in the good old Com
monwealth of Virginia.
In 1801 he reached Hancock Coun
ty with horse and saddle and one dol
lar and fifty cents in cash. Three
days afterwards he married Miss Judith
Staunton, who, it seemed, he had fol
lowed from the Old Dominion. He
connected kimself with the Methodist
Church in 1803, and in declining age
ever delighted to contemplate the good
old days of primitive Christianity,
when the people walled barefoot for
miles to ehurcb, and in native sim
plicity, assembled for worship. Alas!
how changed in these days of fine
carriages, splendid silks, whalebone,
and broadcloth! when boj'S and
girls are Misters and Misses, and man-,
kind bow with complacency at the
shrine of Fashion. lie served as an
apprentice to the carpenter’s trade,
and in the year 1809 moved to Mil-,
le'dgeville^—few years after the county
,of...Baldwin- was laid out, according to
jjwcLQ^CTAe^flßo3^TheLeg
-1807- and as all the public building
| for the State,Capitol had to be erected,
the place offered inducements for the
services of the industrious mechanic.
In a few years, Mr. Jeter turned his
attention to building gins as a more
profitable and agreeable business. His
promptness in business, steady habits,
and gentlemanly deportment attracted
the attention of the financiers around
the Capitol, and one day, while at his
bench, Maj. Howard approached him
and requested that his name should
be used as a candidate for book keep
er in the Bank of Darien. He mod
estly declined the honor on the ground
that he was, unable to give security on
the bond which would be required.
The old Major, seeing the difficulty,
presented to the Directors the name of
Francis Jeter for Book-Keeper. lie
was elected —Howard signed the bond,
and for nine years so punctual, effi
cient, and faithful officer no other
monied institution in this or any other
country could secure. Under Gov
ernor Troup he acted as Secretary,
which was in 1825-26, and had the
honor of becoming acquainted with
the great and honored friend of Amer
ican Independence, who was re-visit
ing this country at that time—Mar
quis de LaFayette. He joined the
triumphal procession which proclaimed
the Hero of Brandywine , the “guest
of the nation,” where he saw the vet
erans of the Revolution renew their
youth, and the young were reminded
of the doings and sufferings of their
fathers. At this time he was a “ wor
thy and well tried” member of the
old and honorable fraternity of Free
and Accepted Masons. Oftentimes
his countenance would beam with de
light when in after years he referred
to the time when he sat in council with
LaFayette—the friend of freedom at
the Capitol of Georgia. This was a
bright spot in his life, which he re
membered with exultation when he be
came a Patriarch.
During the year 1827, he acted as
Inspector of the Penitentiary, and at
the Land Lottery drew a piece of land
in Merriwether, and in 1828 moved
out and settled in the old Creek Na
tion. Here he turned his attention
entirely to the farm, and the next
year his tax return was for 202 J acres
land and ten negroes. Retired from
public notice to his own secluded home
—in quiet and ease—he gathered
around him the comforts of country
life, and by industry, economy and
THE GEORGIA WEEKLY.
i prudence, raised a worthy, intelligent
I and respectable family; and his span
of existence was stretched out to years
of peace and happiness. The chang
ing scenes of time at last approached,
and the 10th of April, 1848, the wife
and mother is summoned to leave the
fond ones on earth; the family
is broken, and the hand of affliction
bears heavily upon the heart of the
old veteran, who had heretofore with
stood many a hard struggle in -the
great battle of life. But like the true
philosopher he rose above the troubles
of the present moment and looked be
yond to a brighter future. A few
months roll away, and the heart and
hand of Mrs. D. B. Bigham are sought
and won, and in Sept., 1849, they
were happily married, The next year
they resided in LaGrange, but shortly
afterwards they returned to the plan
tation in Merriwether. This last mar
riage was unexceptionable and truly
felicitous. His wife was a noble,
warm-hearted, whole-souled Christian
matron, known as the mother of the
Wiggins and the Bighums, distin
guished members of the Pulpit and
the Bar. Napoleon valued the women
of France in proportion to the number
of sons they supplied to the army.—
Let Americans honor and value their
women for the sons they bear to honor,
God, sustain religion and plead for
right and justice; then Mrs. Dolly 8..
Jeter will stand the noblest Roman - ,
mother of them all, for she has con
secrated as noble a band of heralds,
in the cause of truth as the land off
the Gracchi could ever boast for Ital
ian freedom and glory. Such a com
panion to succor, aid, and
with him in his declining years, ;>was
.truly a rich boon. Their lives are in
intimately blended, for indeed there
seemed to be no world for one
but the other had to enjoy, and in love
and affection the spindle of Clotho
wound languidly a way until the web of
life was completed. Although at an
advanced age, he was stout and healthy,
and walked with a firm, upright step.
He amused himself in cultivating or
ange trees and rare, beautiful flowers.
His skill and dexterity with tools was
often called into requisition' by his
hosts of female friends, who had ae
ring or breast-pin or butter k»ife-to be
mtffie or TOe always-AOe*
great pleasure in doing for recreation
or past time. “Uncle Jeter” often
made cuff-pins for the girls ; beautiful
silver pipes for his old female friends,
and repaired the guns and pistols of the
more stalwart, hardy “ lords of crea
tion.” He enjoyed society, and espe
cially that of the young. Hardness
of hearing made him a little tiresome
in conversation after a time ; but he
loved company and. friends, and to talk
of the past and the present, the news
of the day,'and always enjoyed a joke
with an amiable zest. The year 18*9
had scarcely dawned e’er friends and
family were summoned to attend this
good old man as he was tronfiniedf fdi
his bed by pneumonia. For weeks his
affectionate wife and children,
eians and neighbors watched with anx
ious solicitude the course of his dis*
case, but were pained to see him has-'
tening rapidly to the end of life. He
had hoped himself that he might re
cover, as he had enjoyed such uninter
rupted health for some time previous,
but finally be felt all earthly things
receding. The bright future dawning,
inviting him to a happier world,
“ WHpiv sickness, sorrow, pain and death
Are feit and feared no more.”
When one of his physicians enter
ing the room placed his hand upon jiis
feeble, tranquil pulse and enquired
how he was? “Ah Doctor, almost
home,” said he. True it was; for
the next morning, 7th of Feb'y, just
as the rays of sun were beginning to
pencil the eastern sky, his spirit toek
its flight to the “ home of the good.’’
Francis Jeter had a good body’, u
good mind, and, above all, a good soul.
A man of medium height—large frame,
well developed chest, head rather
large, high forehead, small keen eye,
observation and calculation prominent,
with lofty veneration. His judgment
was good, and he had a most extraor
dinary mechanical genius, which he
cultivated much to his own gratifica
tion and the pleasure and comffaSfc-of.
family and friends. He was constant
ly making himself useful. But to that
higher, spiritual sphere in which he
daily moved we may turn with pleas
ing interest. For thirty years he was
a class-leader, and his house was the
home of Capers, Tarpley, Evans, Dan
nelly, and all those old pioneers of
Methodism, who have, long since,
“passed the flood.”—Some time about
1834, he was regularly licensed by
his church as an exhorter. Though
not very fluent in speech, this widened
his field of action arid made him more
useful. He accumulated a handsome
little estate, and contributed liberally
to the institutions of the church—sus
taining the Missionary and Bible Soci
eties with donations worthy of men of
Rio re means and greater pretentions.
young men might well imitate him
Jt» his industry, sobriety, and cheerful
ness: and contemplate his early piety,
useful life, and happy death.
The Needle-Women of London.
A correspondent of the London
Times, describing one of the great
mantuu-making establishments of that
city, communicates the following facts :
“Work is commenced every morning
at 7 o’clock, and continued until 11 at
night—a period of sixteen hours—the
only intervals allowed being about ten
iniriutes for each meal—the total
amount of time allowed for—eating
their food, I was going to say, but,
surely, “bolting” is the more appro
priate phrase —being forty minutes
per day; .thus leaving fifteen hours
.and twenty minutes us the time devo
ted to work. And this, be it remem
bered, is not merely during the busy
season, as at the West end, but all
the year round, from January to De
cember; for you must understand
that at the establishment to which I
refer the greater part of the sewing is
given out to slop-workers in the busy
season—and all that is done in-doors
is the original cutting out and ultimate
fitting together of the separate parts;
but when the slack season comes, there
js always as much sewing reserved as
will keep the girls of the establish
ment employed up to the full pitch, so
j’hat there is, in fact, no “slack sea
son ” at all for them.
And yet, for this continued and un
relenting pressure of sixteen hours’
work per day, from year’s end to year’s
vand, this firm assume to themselves the
greatest possible credit. They thank
God that they are not ns other firms
aye at the West end—oppressors and
(destroyers of young' 'women. They
never (not even for a few weeks in the
biisy season) make their people sit up
till 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning.
Ob, rio! their gas is always turned off
in the work-room by 11 o'clock. Why,
sir, the West-end system, with its few
weeks of severity, followed as it is bv
months of comparative leisure is mer
cy itself when viewed alongside of this
•unmitigated, ‘never-ending,still-begin
.ning’ slavery to which I am referring.
The only day of leisure which the
grirls es this establishment have, is
Sunday. From Monday morning to
Saturday night, they are as complete
jemoneis as any in Newgate. They
Know not w net nor “Hie suri shines' or
the rain falls- at that time. They are
not allowed to cross the thresh hold
even to purchase a pair of shoes or a
gown for themselves, and must employ
their friends outside to do this for
them. Nor i3 the accommodation in
doors such as ir. any way to reconcile
tliern to this close confinement. The
work-room, in which ten or twelve of
them are employed, is only about
twelve feet square, and is entirely de
void of arrangements for ventilation,
which is the more to be deplored, as,
during the evening they have to en
counter the heat and foul air of three
flaming ga3 burners right over their
heads, every door and window being
shut by which a breath of pure air
could possibly enter. The bed-rooms
are 'equally uncomfortable, no fewer
than six persons being huddled into
one, and four into another.”
A revolting case of barbarity has
been brought to light near Wilkesbarre,
Pa. An old man named Isaac Bisbirig,
living in the vicinity, quarreled with
his son Andrew, and in a fit of rage
he seized a gun and shot the boy in
the back, from the effects of which it
is feared that he cannot recover. It
seems that the old man was a perfect
demon and' some of his acts of bar
barity towards his wife and children
would have shamed the wildest savage.
He would frequently hang the children
up by the neck until life was almost
extinct, and at other times he would
hold their heads under the water until
they struggled, in the last agonies of
death. One of the boys fled to the
house of a neighbor one day, badly
hurt, and stated that his father had
thrown a’ red hot poker into the bed
in which the children slept, just to see
the frolic they would have getting out!
At another time he nearly drowned
his wife by holding her head in a crock
of buttermilk.
If anything like the above had been
inflicted by an inhuman master upon
his negroes at the South, all New Eng
land would have been in a roar of ag
ony, but as it is white humanity and
not black that has been abused, not a
word of rebuke is heard.— N. Y. Bay
Book.
The Courier des Etat Unis, the
French organ in New York, tells the
fJohimercial Advertiser, that although
the French government regretted the
dissolution of the United States Gov
ernment, yet, as long as it lias been
dissolved, she will recognize the South
ern Confederacy as soon as it is formed.
The Yale College boys raised a Pal
metto flag on the Alumni tower of that
institution, on Sunday, and barricaded
all approacees to the top of the build
ing. This was done in retaliation of
the supposed insult offered by persons
who employed negroes to wear the
secession cockade before the Southern
students.
ffilje (terjia Polity.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 13.
John Bull under the Cotton
Bales.
Although the present imbroglio of
the North American States, late the
Republic of the United States, has
not reached the fearful climax of ac
tual civil war, and though thus far we
have had but legislative battling, the
din and dust of the conflict has swept
across the Atlantic, and made the im
mortal British Lion quiver with alarm.
Although my lord John Bull has been
working like a beaver, for years, to cre
ate a dissolution of the great Ameri
can Union, he now trembles and turns
pale at the result of his labor. We
may compare him to some bull headed
wight who has dug beneath his neigh
bor's house that it* might fall, and sud
denly discovered that the crash will
be his own grave. In short, England
is suddenly all aghast and thinks of
nothing but—Cotton ! John Bull, with
a face as white as cotton, talks cotton,
“spits cotton,” and dreams cotton.
He admits that no less than five mil
lions of his progeny depend upon cot
ton for bread. The noble lion rubs
his nose and groans in mighty perplex
ity over the humiliating fact that the
“ squabble” among the American eag
lets has docked his whilorn erect cau
dal appendage and made him a very
“Molly Cottontail'' —the nick name of
the timid hare. The noble animal
finds his tail as short as that of the
ape caught in the trap, and his ears
so above his mane that he fears
he was born an ass.
John Bull begins to reason in this
wise ; England must be a monarchy ;
to be a monarchy she must have an
aristocracy; to have an aristocracy
she must have a gentry; to have a
gentry she must have amobocracy; to
have that she must have bread to feed
it; to have bread —oho! she must
have cotton—and where ran she get
cotton if those rascally eaglets prefer
international war to planting cotton in
the immortal year 1861!
The noble lion flies around bis as
tonished cubs, and warns them that
the time is coming when they will
be forced to -suck their paws, like
ignoble bears, for the want of cotton!
For many years the illustrious king
of beasts—how willingly we allow him
the title!—has had a dim idea of this
victory of the King of Plants , and
has tried to claw up cotton bales from
Afric and Asiatic soil. Whether the
blood of the murdered aborigines of
those climes, so inhumanly shed by the
noble brute, affected those soils or not,
it is a fact that cotton will not grow
there for John Bull—or if it grows it
comes up red or unclean.
Another fact goads him like a mam
moth gad-fly, and makes him roar
Peccavi! And here we have it, and
by the confession of John Bull himself:
Not many years ago, he freed all his
negroes in the West Indies and taxed
his poor to the tune of £20,000,000
sterling to pay for his hypocritical phi
lanthropy. This was a present and fu
ture loss to his exchequer, but he wish
ed to cripple or crush the rising su
premacy of American commerce. He
knew that his miserable little islands
of the West Indies could no more
compete in cotton, the true king of
commerce, with tho American Union,
than a goat with a bison; and there
fore originated a monster with innu
inerable horns called Abolition. That
monster now places his claws upon
Mr Bull and says—“ As I have de
stroyed the Union you feared, I think
I can make mince meat of John Bull,
and the first bite shall be Canada!"
Canada is about to be swallowed by
Mr. Bull’s behemoth ;—in other words.
Canada intends to annex herself to the
Northern Confederacy. There can be
no doubt of it; and we venture to
predict that within a year or two all
British America will have become a
part and portion of Freesoildom.
Thus in addition to the 5,000,000
of hungry mouths at home Mr. J. B.
sees the Northern eaglets grasping his
brightest and richest colonial gem.
Still, John Bull must have cotton,
ani.patronizingly asserts that he will
acknowledge the legality of a South
ern Confederacy as soon as formed.
If he was not an excessively proud
old fellow he would ignore his costly
philanthropy and go back to slave la
bor for cotton production in the West
Indies. In fact, his growls indicate
that he must do it, and.we shall not
wonder greatly to see him cease his
“whipping the devil around the stump”
in the Coolie traffic, and come out flat
footed, tail up and eyes aglare—as is
his wont—for Negro, Hindoo, Coolie,
and all kinds of colored slavery, for
the sake of—independence in cotton !
The British Paean is now changed
from
“ Itrillaniu rules the wave,"
to this refrain :
O, Cotton, O, Cotton ! wlmt slmll we do 7
O, Cotton. O, Cotton ! we must have jou l
Derr y down, tlerry down,
Canada go bragh !
Flag-Makers.
The Southern Confederacy having
been determined upon, all newspaper
dom is exercised and befogged with
innumerable devices for a national flag.
Some are for having a cross—because
there is a constellation in the heavens
called the Southern Cross, though to
make it out in that shape makes our
“devil" look squint-eyed for a week.
Another hurrahs for a grey eagle and
scouts at the bald pated bird of late,
as if every eye was that of an Audo
bon to distinguish a blue jay from a
king-fisher or a hawk from a hernshaw.
Another clamors for a rattlesnake as
big as an anaconda or a dwarf sea
serpent, with rattles as big as drums.
Another wants a tobacco-plant—he
smokes and chews. Another cries
“Cotton-plant!”—he believes in home
spun. Another says “Sugar-cane”—
he likes it. Another goes in for a
race-horse, saltant; or a terrapin, ram
pant with red and white stripes, say
fifteen, across his blessed back.
Now all this is very amusing, espe
cially as all the old women in the
country are much agitated and every
one desires immortality in flag-making;
but seriously let it be argued thus:
The stars and stripes were the de
sign of a Southerner—perhaps we all
have heard of him—George Wash
ington. Therefore the said stars and
stripes are ours by right, and when all
these less important matters—such as
national treaties, Southern navies and
armies, kc., &c., &c., shall have been,
adjusted to our satisfaction, let us hold
to it, either as our own, or that of no
other nation; and if Yankee Doodle
refuses this, let us give him stripes and
make him see stars! In the mean
time let us see that small matter of
Coercion settled forever.
The Adjutant General of the
Georgia Militia has ordered an elec
tion to be held on the 3d of April
next to fill the vacancy of Major Gen
eral of the 9th Division in Morriwetlo
er, Troup, Heard, Coweta, Campbell
and Carroll counties. The order will
be seen in another column.
Col. C. W. Howard, commanding
69th Regiment of G. M., acting un
der orders of the Adjutant General,
gives notice of an election at the same
date to fill vacancies of one Captain
and three Lieutenants.
Col. Howard is presented as candi
date for Major General of the 9th
Division, and he has our hearty and
hopeful wishes that he may be chosen
unanimously.
Col. Howard is a host in himself,
and one of the fust tacticians and
drill masters of the South. He
served in the Mexican war, both in the
Volunteer and regular army, and
gained a high reputation as a soldier
and officer. There are few of our
readers who do not know the man ,
and we trust fewer still who will not
vote for the soldier.
A special notice, as regards him,
will be found in another column.
A letter from the Merriwether
infant—a lad seven feet and five
inches in height.
Dear P : I send you $2 for your
enterprise.
I will do what I can for you. Go
it, my Peek l Here is hoping you may
get to be a bushel —and as to Lines
—may he prove a coltimn.
J. A. G.
May the Col.’s shadow never be less.
Jg@“ We have received several com
plimentary notices from our contem
poraries, and place two before our
readers—one faint as twilight and the
other clear as sunshine at noon.
We are in receipt of the first num
ber of “ The Georgia Weekly," pub
lished at Greenville, Ga., by Messrs.
Peck & Lines. Wm. Henry Peck,
Editor. The paper presents a very
handsome appearance, as it could not
fail to do under the. supervision of
friend Lines. Its editor is a gentle
man of very high literary attainments.
We wish it success, — Augusta Bis
pateh,
A Paper at Greenville, Ga. —We
received yesterday a very neat paper,
hailing from Greenville, entitled The
Georgia Weekly, and published by
Messrs. Peck k Lines. The paper is
devoted to Southern Literature, News
and General Information. Price $2
iu advance.— LaGrange Reporter.
L. F. Blalock is authorized to
receive subscriptions to this paper in
Fayette county.