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YOL. I. Stye Georgia tPeeklu, DEVOTED TO Literature and General Information, WM. HENRY PECK, Editor and Proprietor. PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, BY PECK & L INKS. TERMS, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE : One copy, per annum...» $2.00 Single copies, Scents. m Advertisements inserted at $1 a square us 12 lints, for one insertion, and 50 cents for each subsequent insertion. A liberal deduction made to those who advertise by the year. 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,