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YOL. I.
Stye Georgia tPeeklu,
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THE PUZZLED CENSUS TAKER.
BY JOHN O. SAXE.
“Got any boys?” the Marshal said,
To a lady from over the Rhine;
And the lady shook her flaxen head,
And civilly answered, “ Nine !”*
“Got nny girls?” the Marshal said,
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again the lady shook her head,
And civilly answered, “Nine!”
“But some are dead?” the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine ,
And again the lady shook her head,
And civily answered, Nine !”
“Husband, of course V 1 the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again she shook her flaxen head,
And civily answered, Nine!”
41 The and 1 you have ?” the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again she shook her flaxen head,
And civily answered, 1 Nine!”
“Now what do you me n hy shaking your head,
• And always answering “Nine?”
4 f Ich kantt nieht Englixch /” civilly said
The lady from over the Rhine. -
pronounced nine, is the German for
*Xo”
THE DEVOTED MOTHER.
BY lIKNRY C. VAUGHAN.
It was the old story. Mabel Stur
gess, the belle of the village, the old
schoolmaster’s daughter—loved by all,
from, the infant in the arms of the
grey-mured sexton, who had a kind
word for everybody, and to whom all
ha*
the. ...ViGNTi'miugh ne’er^P^H
country round. He was a if?
by trade, and the people shook
heads ominously when his name was
mentioned, and said that he had got
his livelihood by something very dif
ferent from honest work.
Os course, her father was obliged
to give his consent to. their marriage,
for Mabel was his only child, and he
loved her with all the fond affection
of a widower, for her features remind
ed him constantly of the happy hours
be had passed with her who had gone
before him. He .shook his head sadly,
at the thought that his daughter was
going to throw herself away upon a
fellow like this; but she told him, in
her simple way, that her life was
bound up in Jasper’s, and, if. she did
not marry him, she could only lie
down anti die.
They were married, and a hand
somer pair never appeared atjthe altar
of Woodthorpe church. Old Sturgess
did all in his power to fit up his daugh
ter’s house comfortably ; presents
poured in on her from every side, and
there was every prospect of felicity if
—and the poor bid schoolmaster
shook his head sadly, as he followed
the bridal procession down the flower
strewn aisle. ‘ 9
At first, his mournful, predictions,
however, did not seem to be realized.
Jasper, flushed with pride at the pos
session of the flower of the village,
determined to live honestly, and con
tradict the gossips sneers about what
was “bred in tbe bone.” Mabel’s
house was a pattern of neatness, and
the good little wife gazed proudly at
her husband, and felt convinced that
none could he happier than herself.
The first cloud that rose on her
matrimonial horizon, was because her
husband showed a neglect for church.
She had been brought up religiously,
had led the village choir for years,
and never dreamed of any one staying
away from service. But Jasper, after
the first few months, made various ex
cuses for not accompanying her, and,
at last, flatly refused. Still, the brave
wife did not despair. She employed
all her innocent sweetness to lead him
back to the right path, and though
she soon recognized the futility of her
efforts, she kept her grief to herself.
She might look a little hollow under
the. eyes, and traces of tears were
more than once visible on her cheeks
—so the gossips said—but she never
mentioned a syllable —no, not even to,
her father.
Besides, she had a glorious conso
lation ; her first child would soon be
born, and she flattered herself into the
idea that Jasper, having two to sup
port, would work doubly, and give
up that evening visit to the public
house, which nad recently become
his custom. She was sadly mista
ken, however. During her, confine
to her bed, Jasper, feeling re-
Jpefotefr to .Southern literature, Jtetos, anb (general Information.
lieved from that restraint which the
presence of a virtuous woman exerci
ses on the most hardened, was seen
more frequently in the pot-house, and
less frequently in his workshop. When
Mabel came round again, she found a
number of small debts had accumula
ted, and nothing with which to meet
them.
At first, Mabel strove to argue with
her husband, but found that it was in
vain; he had assumed a species of
callousness, and never seemed happy
to-remain at home. She even went
so far as to reproach the man she still
so fondly loved; but the manner in
which he turned on her, and the.lan
guage which met her awe-stricken ears,
counselled her to give up such attempts
in future. She endured it
One by one, the valued articles disap
peared from her cottage —sold to pay
the debts which Jasper’s idleness had’
brought on, and she had to'work to
support herself.
In this way, eight years passed, du
ring which time two more children
were born to Mabel, and Jasper had
gone on from bad to worse. Her hus
band had long ago given up his 'work
shop, and went about the country job
bing. He would be away for weeks,
aye, for months, and returned, some
times dressed in new clothes, at oth
ers in rags. • But Mabel never, com
plained ; there was a home for him,'
whenever he chose to return, and a
share of her scanty food ; and, if her
neighbors reproved her for her folly,
she would simply answer: “ He is my
husband, and the father of my chil
dren—can I let him starve ?”
The great concealed sorrow which
gna wed at poor Mabel’s heart, was that
her eldest boy, William, was so strik
ingly like his father in temperament.
She had long ago resigned all hope of
leading her husband back to rectitude,
and she earnestly implored Heaven to
spare her the humiliation of seeing
William follow in his father’s track.
It was bad enough to be constantly
trembling, for fear of hearing that her
buwOa|i<hJq|<i fallen, into, the of
si. as then she
’ BBftt he could exercise
BP-01 re over her eldest
-Ill'll a thought
formed, and
cross meekly, like
the wife and mother
she was.
Jasper absent for many
months, when he>suddenly made his
appearance agitin in the most pitable
condition. At the sight of him she
forgot all her wrongs, and pressed him
to hew heart. At first he seemed
really Effected, but in vain did Mabel
urge him to tell her what he had been
doing these many months. He an
swered with evasions, and by degrees
fell back into his old habits of sloth
and vagabondage. It was hard for
Mabel to see the scanty savings dissi
pated day by day, but harder to watch
the influence the father was obtaining
over William, who was equally prone
to good or ill, according as the impulse
was given^
Before long, the country gentry
raised loud cries about the increase
of poaching, and Jasper was naturally
suspected, but was too cunning to be
caught red-handed. What seemed to
confirm these suspicions was tbe friend
ship he had formed with two men, who
lived in a wretched cabin on the heath,
and were out of employment, because
they had been convicted of poaching,
and no farmer dared to engage them.
They were moral Pariahs, and avenged
themselves on society in consequence.
They did not appear to be badly off;
they even kept a pony and a cart,
which they ostensibly employed for
carrying the brooms they made to the
neighboring market; hut people shook
their heads, and were the most hostile
to these two men, because they had
not a particle of evidence beyond
their notorious bad character to bring
against them.
With these men, as I said, Jasper
became intimate ; he got into the hab
it of sleeping at their cabin, where, to
the mother’s heartfelt grief, he carried
William now and then. The boy was
delighted, for he was able to ride the
pony; and one day came to his mother
triumphantly with a hare he had killed
with a stone, and which the poor
woman threw from her in horror, be
cause her worst fears were realized.
, iT7..
About a month later, Mabel missed
the money, ahe had put aside for her
rent from a drawer in her sitting-room.
At once she suspected William, and
questioned him: but he stoutly denied
all knowledge of the money. Fortu
nately for the truth, his sister Mary
had watched him take it out; and the
boy, driven into a corner, confessed
that be had taken the money, but by
his fathers orders.
“ Silence !” Mabel said, with noble
presence of mind. “ Don’t you say
such a thing as that. Any money I
GREENVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JULY 3, 1861.
may have belongs to your father*. But
you were wrong not to confess the
truth at once.”
Left alone with the penitent hoy,
Mabel soon learned, to her terror, how
far he had already gone on the down
ward path. The lad, affected by his
mother’s silent grief, revealed to her
things of which she had hitherto but a
vague suspicion. Then she saw that,
after all her .cruel trials, she had one
still to undergo more terrible than all.
Hitherto she had concealed from her
children all knowledge of their fath
er’s baseness; but such a course, if
pursued in, might entail disastrous
consequences. She must save her
son, if to do so, she was obliged to put
him on his guard against his own
father. She did so, but with a bleed
ing heart.
Jasper soon noticed the efforts Ma
bel was making to wean her son from
him, and she was too frank to hide her
purpose from him. He left her with
a fearful oath that he would make her
repent; he would take her children
from her, one by one, and she should
never hear of them again, until she
saw their napies in the prisoner’s cal
endar. ,■
It 'was past midnight when
work.was completed, and she retired
to her sorrow-laden couch, She was
roused from her fitful slumbers by the
entrance of her husband; but he soon
went out again. Suddenly a presenti
ment assails her—be had not gone
alone. She flew up stairs to William's
cot, and cried out his name; but there
was no answer, and she fell lifeless
across the deserted bed. When she
recovered, she knew not what to do.
All was black—black as the night that
brooded over the landscape out on
which she gazed. Her boy was lost
to her—-lost forever.
As she s'at there, revolving the course
she must pursue, the clouds suddenly
parted, and the moon poured its be
neficent rays upon the mourning moth
er. 'They seemed to endow her with
new life, anil she rose at once, and
hurriedly dressed herself. She left
cabin on iru&Dant^P
usual abode. If her boy was any
where, he would be there.
It was a dreary walk, through briers
and over sharp stones, and only a
mother’s love sustained Mabel. She
courageously followed the intricate
track, and cautiously approached the
wretched hovel. Peering through the
window, sire saw that it was empty ;
but a fire was burning in the chimney,
and pipes and bottles, still standing
on the table, proved that the inmates
had not long been gone. Suddenly
the s<4und of footsteps made the poor
woman recoil, and in the flickering
light she saw two men and her hus
band coming towards the cabin. But
where was her son ?
With this idea occupying her mind,
Mabel approached the window again,
so soon as the men had efitered, and
stood terrified at the sight that offered
itself to her dilated eyeballs. There
was proof sufficient of her husband’s
complicity in crime. He was a poacher
—nav, worse! And she shuddered
at the thought. One ray of hope,
however, arrived to console her.
“ Thank Heaven ! -my son is not
among them. I shall have time to
save him !”
She glided away from the cabin,,
and day was breaking as she reached
her own cottage again, utterly exhaus
ted and worn with fatigue. But she
did not feel it when she saw her Will
iam peacefully sleeping by the side of
his brother.
About an hour afterward her hus
band stalked into the cottage, and
threw himself upon the bed, where h«
soon feel into a deep sleep. For a
long time Mabel stood and watched
him; her lips quivered with a mut
tered prayer, but she was
Iler boy must be saved, no matter who
suffered. She put on her bonnet and
glided out of the cottage, not daring
to look back, lest her resolution might
fail her. She hardly entered the vil
lage street, when a neighbor stopped
her, saying:
“ Oh! have you heard the sad
news? Sir Clarence Wilmington’s
house was broken into last night, and
the plate carried off?” f
“ I know it, I know it!” Mabel an
swered, mechanically, as she went on
her way, leaving her neighbor lost in
surprise that the news was not per
fectly original. But Mabel went
straight on to her father’s house, and
bade him dress himself at once. The
old man, greatly surprised at the agi
tation she so unusually displayed,
obeyed her without a word, and they
were soon on their way to the
house. w*#* v <j
When they reached it, Mabel aske(|
to be conducted straight to Mr. Edge
cumbe ; but the servant who answer
ed the door said that was impossible*
for he was engaged on particular bus
iness with Sir Clarence. *a^
At this moment the two gentlemen
camVout intpj/f’\a#nJl, and Mabel
rushegr
“ me,” she said, as
she ltid herJvei- Cawsionately on the
squirt's tell you all
you kn„ -ttyt -
Th* «3P c o entleman fell back a step
or imaginitvy that he had to do'
with A mad woman ; but Mabel read
at oijce the effect her impetuosity had
produced on him, and said;
y I am not mad, though it is possi
ble that I may become so ere long.
Bbt, come, let us go into the library f”
She entered the room, her father
following her, like a child that obeys
the reason why. So
"soon asshe had closen the door, she
said, in a monotonous voice, as if re
peating a lesson she had learned by
rote:
“Listen to me,Mr. Edgecumbe, be
fore weakness stops my speaking. In
the broom-maker’s hut, in a hole in
the the chimney v the articles
are d which were stolen last
night fronT'Sir Clarence’s house.”
“ I thought all along,” the squire
said, “ that those two men were the
guilty parties.; but we have proofs
that there, *jfs another fellow with
thero-lentd
“*.oo penpere was !” Mabel murmur
ed, in ah aj£x>st unintelligible voice.
- “Who was it, then—do you know ?”
“ My bus—my husband !”
At these words she felt herself tot
tering, leaned against the wall to pre
vent herself frorft falling, and buried
her face in her hands.
The squire sighed. He had known
Mabel fiym childhood, and felt in
stinctively what it must have cost her
to make this terrible denunciation.
The baronet, however, looked very
scowlingly.
“We nofiv know,” he said to Mr.
Edgecumb®, “who the -guilty parties
are—but, Hugh ! it is a sorry sight to
see a wife her husband.”
I “ I did*it to save my children from
j perdition,Mabel said, with feverish
1 energy- is my witness, that
I-would died of hunger
I flev4|’jMf"inid the heart
whom I was marri
ed- 1 " but compelled to bring up
my childriln honestly. I have worked
for them incessantly, and; never askpd
for alms nc
band returned; tie 'fSCgnt mjf
falsehood Cnd pilfering, thought I im
plored him, with tears in tny eyes, not*
jo ruin my children £ fie only laughed
at me, and swore to make them all as
bad as diipself. He began carrying
out his horrible threat last night. My
boy William was.: taken from me ”
“ Ah!” Sir Cikmnce said, coldly;
“ I was correctly It was
said that a fourtbiparty was iinplica- j
ted ; the boy must be taken up too.” 1
Mabel’s sole consolation in her fear- j
ful trial hadJweij'that she sliould.save
her the lather were eon
when she heard Sir
Clami'ris-'.rVußrk, slfegazed at him
fixedly forlralmeat, and than, gave a
and fell lifeless ty.-
the floor-
Orders to have the
guilty panties; arrested at once, while
the vtj|’en-sei'vant& round
poor Mabel and strove to restore her
to consciousness. When she opened
her eyes again it was to gaze on her
husband, whom the police brought in
with little William. He walked bold
ly up. to the table at which the magis
trates were seated, but on seeing his
wiftjfo started violently, and said:
charge may be brought
against me, she, at any rate, is inno
cent.” ... .
“No, we have none against her,”
Sir 'Clarence said, hastily, “ for she is
your accuse?.” \
“ She !”* Jasper exclaimed, with an
accent of mingled disdain and incre
dulity. “ Tha&tjs djnpossible ; efte
knowiyiothing oT the matter.”
gess look ! here is
ThegrfgL-. Reduced -electric
effect o>fo / t TEWoman. She.walk
ed
made an for his lib
eration. * Ts; magistrates consulted
together,' and presently?-jgj|anted her
request, although Sir. Clarence ex
pressed his Opinion that it was mista
ken ulemeney, for they were a bad lot
altogether. Ar- — 1 . ,
A “few. moments later the police
brought in the other prisoners with
their booty, which they laid on the ta
ble. evidence was so strong that
all of them were committed to the
county prison for trial.
As Jasper prepared to leave the
room, bis face, hitherto stubborn and
contemptuous, assumed a perfectly
| different aspect. He went up to his
I 'fife, took her hand, and kissed her on
Uh'fe fore, ead, without saying a word,
fit was evident that he was thinking
of the treasure he possessed, ana
‘which he had so madly thrown away.
“It was to save iny boy,” Mabel
; murmured in a low voice; and for
some moments she continued to repeat
these words alone. Her reason seem
ed to have deserted her, and no one
could look at her without being moved
to tears. Her old father remained at
her bedside for hours, holding WiUiam
in his arms, and shaking his head
sadly at every fresh attack of her
■frenzy.
111.
“It is just' fifteen years,” the old
captain concluded, “ since Jasper
Dawson Was transported for life, and,
On my last voyage out, his wife was
my passenger. She had carried out
her plans fully. Her eldest boy had
become*a respectable tradesman ; the
youngest was dead, and her daughter,
a lively girl, had married Very well.
Having no more trouble about her
children, Mabel determined to proceed
to Australia, to try and soote the last
hours of the man with whom she once
lived happily. She had been told
that h.e was truly penitent, and tho
roughly reformed, and made up her
mind to join him.
Her friends sought, in tears to dis
suade -her from this step. They
thought that, after the many years
she had endured for her family, she
could now sit down with her hands in
her lap and rest; but Mabel simply
replied, that as Providence had not
allowed her to do her duty to 8,11 her
family at once, she must do it to each
in turn. Her children were provided
for and comfortable, and she could
not rest so’long as* her husband was
not the same.
So she went forth unpiningly, and,
I am happy to say, that she found her
husband all that had been described
to her. Mabel is happy, and has only
one wish on earth left, to obtam her
husband’s pardon, • that he may once
more sqie his childi»ir ere he die. If
she does' (not succeed, she
with him,' faithful to the end.
s -- , j—
• AUOOgI
itavel troupe, *©F the ape in thelHjr^'
estirig play.caTTea“ Jocko. 1
hi’s de&tb-pcene wot so affecting'tffat j
there was scarcely a dry eye in the]
house when the curtain fell. Indeed, j
japonjhjs ifhoulders the mantle of Ma- i
zurier, the hero of.the piece on its ;
production in Paris, some thirty-five j
yegt’s ago*-seemed to have fallen. I
At tha.t time there lived a young 4
lady, of great beauty and sensibility. |
who was engaged to be married to a !
nobleman. After every ar
rangement had been made, the fickle
suitor ’ left for St. Petersburg, and
shortly after his arrival at the*north
eyn. capital wrote to his inamorata,
announcing with cool laconism, that
be had, formed a life-connection with
fair one. The outraged .feel
irigs-'pf the Dido abandonnata did not
be fray themselves in weeping and re
proaches, but her manner expressed
the sentiment of the old song :
/ I have a secret sorrow here,
A grief 111 qe’er impart;
* ft heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear,
it consumes my heart.”
One day the forsaken girl ordered
thb carriage for a drive, and departed
for* an airing, accompanied by her
mother. After visiting some of the
mdst/fashionable and gay places, she
directed the coachman to drive to the
Pont/Neuf, and when midway on the
briijge, stopped the vehicle. The-mo-
door was opened she sprang
npo.n the steps, and thence Jo the par
apet of the structure with the evident
intention of throwing herself into the
SeinST The prompt movement of the
fbotpaan Lufflod her suicidal attempt,
and she was reseated in the carriage
Jby main force. The mother asked the
of her dreadful resolution.
“ Do you ask-me, mother ?” replied
the‘young girl- “ You know my po
sition ; abandoned by my lover ; what
has life left to charm my stay XV
' “ Have 3’ou not a mother to console
you-and to live for ?”
“ You will be better off, and I in
my grave. You are rich and well
provided for.”
“ This is mudnes and Impiety,” an
swered the mother. ' u The man who
could thus .break this solemn engage
ments would ujake a worthless hus
band. Among the young meti of
your acquaintance there is more than
one who would be proud and happy to
possess the hand this miacreant has
rejected.”
“ Ah ! mother, never speak to me
of loving again!” answered the poor
girl, as she sank back on the cushions
of the seat, and burst into a flood of
tears.
** Henri,” whispered the mother to
the footman, “is there anything
amusing at any of the theatres ?’
“ Yes, madame,” replied the ser
vant. “ They are playing a famous
pantomime at the I’orte St; Martin,
, ■<£
called 1 Jocko, or the Brazilian Ape.’ ”
“ Have you seen it ?’’
“ More than once, madame.”
“Very well—shut the door, ahd
tell the coachman to drive to the Porte
St. Martin. Dae accelerS /”
The order was obeyed, and they
soon reached the popular theatre. As
good luck would have it a subscriber
had just relinquished a private box,
which madame immediately engaged
for herself and daughter. It required
no little persuasiofi to the
young lady to follow her mother, and
seat herself in the box. Here she
drew the curtain and concealed her
eyes, still red with w««ping, in her
delicate hands. \
The piece began. Roars of laugh
ter and applause, bursting from the
entire audience, finally succeeded in
awakening the curiosity of the unfor
tunate beauty. She withdrew the
curtain, removed her hands, and gazed
upon the performance, listlessly at
first, but afterwards with interest.
an enormous orang outang
climbing trees, turning somersets,
cracking nuts, and performing all the
amusing gambols peculiar to his curi
ous and agile species. She found her
self laughing and clapping her hands
with the rest. .Mazurier, the perfor
mer, this night surpassed himself. At
last he clambered to the dress circle,
and ran along the edge of the boxes,
seating himself near M’lle , the
disconsolate young lady.-
The letter fed him with bonbons and
nuts from her reticule, stroking him
qvith her hand while he ate thgm, en
tirely forgetting that she was petting
a man, and not a money, and the ob
ject of attention and amusement to
the whole house. Finally, when the
curtain fell, Miss turned to her
mother with a smile no longer melan
choly, and said :
“ Ah! mother, we must come here
every night.”
■ And every night the young lady
I was found Every night
pyfhat-is imSWBMII And he drop*-
; ped from the boxes off the stage.
The fact was, that the performance
| of the part was so exhausting that the
] moment the curtain fell Mazurier was
forced to take his bed, where he're.-
I mained until it‘was time to' dress for
| the next nigViiS porfornmnee. , How
ever, the lovers, for they "speeArty W
i came such—met, and mademoiselle
] found Mazurier an elegant, accom
plished, and highly-educated young
man. He had been destined for the
In w,‘but meeting with repeated disap
pointmenfS, had taken to the stage to
escape a death of starvation. To
make a long story short, mademoiselle
married the monkey with the consent
of her mother. The union was happy
but brief,'for poor Mazurier died ia a.
year, in consequence of his profes
sional exertions.
Slow and Sure.
We may learn something from our
German citizens. They thrive on the
same income that a Yankee would
starve on. We knew a young Ger
man whose capital, when he landed
ort our shores, consisted of a singular
ly constructed suit of blue clothes and
a long-tailed pipe. Yet in five years
he had a.house and lot, money at in
terest, a* wife and two babies, and any
quantity of domestic bliss and pickles.
.During the most of this time our meri
torious friend received a salary of only
six dollars a week. A Yankee might
have received five times that sum and
cobie out head over ears in debt. Thfe
fact is, Germans have very sensible
notions of life. They are not fast.
They drink beer and smoke pipes with
astonishingly long stems, but they are
not addicted to “ calling on ” multitu
dinous baskets of Expensive Heidsic.
They are industrioas and economical.
They know enough to lay up some
thing for a rainy day, which is a great
deal more than some
Many Americans seem to ‘hiftk that
they will have no difficulty in Borrow
ing umbrellas when the financial rainy
day comes, bu.t they ascertain their
mistake when the time arrives, and arfi
too often forced to seek shelter iiy-the
poor-house or go and live with their
parents. Meanwhile our Teutonic
friend goes pleasantly ahead, raising
garden ‘sauce and babies, and- con
stantly waxing richer, fatter and jol
lier.
-*.-*-**-
One-Eyed System of Planting
Potatoes. — A farmer says : For two
seasons I planted my potatoes in drills
and upon the above named plan, leav
ing but one or two eyes to a cutting
and allowing the cuttings to dry ovei*
before being planted. The result was
small vines, few potatoes, and a light
yield. Farmers should be very care
ful in planting potatoes. . :
NO. 22,