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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.