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■ ———.l i ■ i —a .
A. G. MURRAY,
VOLUME IX.
€\\t Sltnerintn Sttiiitr.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING,
BY A. O. MURRAY.
‘Office on Broad Street, West end the New Brick
Range, (up-stairs.)
TERMS:
Two Dollar* ami A half In Art vni.ee or Three
Dollar* at the end of si* months. No siih.-criptions ta
ken for less than on* year, unless pniil in advance ; and
no paper will be discontinued till all arrearages are paid-,
except at the option of the publishers.
advertisements
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tfa. on roftl ©stufcc, must l?'j puVuscctf dny5,......52,50 J
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Orders of Court of Ordinary t<> make title to Land, ac
companied by a copy of the band or agreement, must be
published 3 months.
MISCELLANEOUS.
n — ■■
From the Dollm Weekly Times.
THE NEW LEAF;
OH TIIK NEW YEAR AT THE CROSS-ROADS TAVERN. |
BY INVISIBLE QUEEN, ESQ. ~
■les but oneo a your, boys,j
out expiring into ctarnity, j
:o stan’ treat all ’round.— j
lier’s son of you ainN give i
g drink 1”
yusge of old Tim, —landlord-)
‘asliiiigton,” to a bar-room
full of customers, early in the last evening of the
year 1850. The 7 Head of Washington ”js an
old tavern, and I might say it is firmly fixed in
the memory of thousand* who have patronized
it. Scores of distinguished men have eagerly
sought its comforts, and gladly accepted its lic.s
pitality. Wear! travellers, home slowly in the
stagecoach, day and night, through a frosty at
mosphere, have pailed fits glowing fires and
‘warm meals with Av. The poor traveler, with
all his earthly possessions on his back, has often
entered its doors downcast, and left them enli
vened in heart! Ay! the “Head of Washing
ton,” kept for yean iby old Tun Walker, at the
cross-roads near the village of G , in the
couuty of H , State of I , has comforted
tnany a sorrowful heart, and afforded good cheer
tomanyawearysi.nl. Nay more There, in
the bar-room of mat old tavern, more than one
now distinguished man has first displayed his
“ lamia,” aid firs* made his maid: among his fel
low men—and there, in after years, h:v#t been
Compelled to mingle familiarly with those who
assisted to elevate him in the scale of fame, but
who had gone down, down, while he ascended.
There public measures have been discussed, groat j
enterprizes projected, and important movements
set in motion. There, in that same bar-room, j
ministers have prayed and exhorted, patriots;
vented forth their devotion to their country, and ‘
travelers related thrilling adventures, to eager
ears. And there —troth compels me to say it—
there have hundreds of men, with noble forms,
stout arms, and sound minds, imbibed feelings,
*nd engendered habits, which have proved their’
total ruin. Oh I thou okl tavern at the
foads! while mauy remember thee with pleasure,
hundreds cilrse thee for their destruction !
Like all landlords iu rural districts, Tim
a “ big man ” among his fellow-cit
izens. His house, the only place of resort in
the village, was visited by all, and upon holiday > i
especially, the villagers assembled there, en masse. |
On the occasion above alluded to, the last evening
of the year 1850, the bar-room was crowded,
with a merry throng, who had commenced the
celebration of the new year, ere the knell of the
old one had been pealed by the hand of time.—
Tim was a 7 jolly old soul,” an.l the sight of so
many gathered together in anticipation of a hol
iday, cheered his heart, and induced him to give
fie invitation to “all hands” to take a drink |
free of expense. A second invitation was not
necessary, for in a moment “ all hands,” save a
few, were at the bar, glasses in hand. And it
■was not a little amusing to observe how the va
rious grades clustered arouud that bar. First
and nearest to the landlord stood the ’squire of
the township, with a stomach equal to FalstafTs,
and a plump red nose which glistened in the
cheerful light. He was the leadfitj&f the first
plattoon, which embraced closely the counter,
and there was something in all their looks which
betrayed an eagerness to sip the inspiring liquid.
Next to them, and just able to reach the glasses
on the counter, wen a looking set of
who, though not eager, Vet seemeffanxious
indeed their chance for a drink
did at one time seem rather doubtful, so eager
were those who had reached the counter before
them, Around tiie iuA fiulhest from the
bar, were aknot of individuals who were evident
ly disposed to let others do their drinking.
But when old Tim said, “drink all round,” he
meant it, and his dram touched not its glass,
until all. in the bar-room stood liquor in hand,
and awaited'a signal from him to drink all to
gether. v
“Now, boys,” Raid he, as he prepared his
dram, “who will give the toast?”
“ Bill Crawford,” shouted a dozen voices.
“ Bill Crawford ’tin, then,” was his reply.—
“ Come, sonny,” said ho to a tall young man,
whose face seemed almost bursting with the
liquor bloat, and whose scanty clothing was in
*igs. “ Come sonny, get on to a chair, and sing
}*. out” “ v
“ 1 guess the ’squire had better do it,” replied
Bill Crawford, the individual addressed, as lie j
stepped up on a chair, with his glass in hand, j
“ When it comes to a ’bout Bill’s in, but the
’squire’s got more lamin’ than was ever packed
in the Lull family of Crawfords, and he's the
chap what oughter gin the toast-.”
‘•The ’squire, the ’squire,” shouted the crowd.
“ Thar it is,” continued Bill. “’Squire you]
are in and this little chicken’s out. Drive on !
with your wag ui ’Squire.”
This was followed by merry appeals to the
‘Squire for the toast.
“ Gentlewen,” responded the “official as lie j
took off his hat and wiped his face with a yellow I
and tvd mixed Cotton handkerchief, “Gentlemen ,
and fellow citizens I fear you are reposing heavy j
responsibilities upon me, forming as you do, too j
stupendous opinions of my capabilities. 1(11 j
however, endeavor to satisfy-yonr thirst for some
thing good. This is New Year’s Eve, gentle
men, and 1 will give you something appropriate.
I w ill give you a verse which ••us sung at my
cradle by my patriotic father, years ago. It goes
“ Ready!” was the response.
“ Well, then, here’s the toast ■:
“ Apple pass ami ginger boor.
New Year*? come? but once a year—
Tvfi here’s to you—here’s to me—
Merry, merry we will be.’*
A shout foil iw jd tiro ‘toast, and down wen”
the IrqUor. Old Tim was glad to see all so mer”
ry, and lie rubbed k-s bands with glee.
“ Boys make yb'jtrsclves at home,” said lie,
“ for you are all welcome to the • Head of Wash
ington,’ to-night.”
This called forth another shout, and then the
’Squire treated, and then somebody else treated,
aud so the treat went round to all those wlio
were able to stand it, and, as is generally the
case, to some who were not. The more liquor
drank, the more jovial the company, and songs
were sung, jokes pass. .1, and quite a happy feel
ing prevaded. All seemed merry but Bill Craw
ford. lie wars considered the most ready wit of
the neighborhood, ami stood unequalled there
! in spinning yarns and singingsorgs. But this eve*
j niiig he appeared sad and demure, and not a smile
I passed over his generally merry countenance.
! He volunteered to assist Old Tint, and taking a
! place behind the bar, busied himself in keeping
j its fixtures in order. In vain was lie called upon
to sing a song or tell a story —lie invariably, ns
✓with the toast, forced someone else to do it for
him. Ilis*singular conduct caused some coin-’
meat, but was soon forgotten in the hilarity of
the evening.
Soon the sound of music was heard in another
part of the old tavern, which proved moreattrac-1
live than even the bar. The dining-room had
been cleared of its immense tables, and under
the direction of Mi s. Walker, a portly busy -body,
arranged for the usual New Year's dance. From
the day Wu bad become mistress of the “ Head
of Washington,” she claimed it as a epscia! priv-!
ilcg* to invite her friends to welcome the New
Year in a pleasant dancing party. The fiddles
proved attractive to the inmates of the bar-room,
the most, of whom proceeded to join the dancers.
Even Old Thn, himself, leaving the bar in the
cate of Bill Crawford, proceeded thither, ns lie ;
jocosely remarked, “to shake a foot with the |
The dining-room of the “ Head of Washing
ton,” is about thirty-five feet long by fifteen in
breadth. Its walls and ceilings are as white as
chalk, while its smooth floor is as unstained as
the falling snow. O.i this occasion, all the
looking-glasses and pictures about the tavern
j were arranged on the walls of the diningroom
jto give it a holiday appearance. Chairs and j
i benches were placed around the room and tit
lone end a pine tabled with a chair upon it was
I set for the espeWflTwhtpf the fiddler.
The wasHPEmd of a “free blow,” Mrs.
Walker in 7 setecniig her company, having invi
ted nearly every person in the neighborhood.—
: The guests were not slow to coine either, and at
: the time when the sound of the fiddle was first
heard nearly all the seats were-occupied.
The musician was an old negro, whose only
name was Boh, and who hud been the village
barber and dancing-master for years, lie almost
worshipped his fiddle, and gloried in the clear,
.strong manner in which lie “called the figures.”
! No monarch ever ascended a throne with more
I avidity than he mounted the pine tabled that
j night, and uo despot ever sat in his chair of
state with more dignity than Bob did the fiddler’s
chair.
“Is your voice clcer to-iiifcht,” asked Mrs.
Walker xlf him, as he was tuning his instrument.
“Clar !” was his reply. “Cltir?* Is dar any
mud in de moon-shine ? If dar is, dis nigger’s
voice ain’t elar. Jus’ wait till I takes up Old j
i Benjamin (his fiddle,) and den I’ll show you.
wedder dis voice ain elar 1”
This satisfied Mrs. Walker, and taking a sort
of dignified strut through the room—such a
strut as a landlady only can give—smtliug to
this guest and to that one, she finally seated her
self opposite the musician, and g,ve him a
knowing nod of the head, which was the signal
to begin.
“Fardnali’s for de cotillion !”~) 7 eUe<r Bob; as
he furiously run his bow over bis fiddle strings.
The floor was soon filled with eager dancers,
and on receiving another nod from Mrs. Walker,
Tom set them in motion. And such music as
came from that violin ! I have heard Ole Bull
on his single string and his diamond-set fiddle,
but never neard him produce the rich, full and
meflodious sounds which come from old Bob’s
instrument. It is an orchestra complete, and
needs no’accompaniment save the “ Clar ” voice
of its owner. And th it voice was musical, too,
as it gave forth in merry strains the figures about
as follows:
“To de right and lef all four—tee-dum tee-,
dum—De balance now—deedle-dum deedle-dum
—Ladies will you change—high-die die-do —
Promenade across de room—Lee-ye bce-jre—An’
now come back agin,” sec.
People may talk as they please about the in
feriority of the African race ; but if there is not
music in a nigger, there is certainly none this
side of heaven. At least the company no doubt;
thought so as Bob beat time with his feet, pro
duced such inspiring sounds from his instrument,
and sung the “ figures ” so delightfully to the
air he was performing.
The danoe went on, and the* bar-room was
deserted, except at the intervals lief ween the co
tillions. While the music was going, the girls
were more attractive than the decanters, but the
I moment old Bob laid aside “de fiddle an’ <le,
GRIFFIN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 10, 1651.
bow,”atirmtlcnts were sought in the bar-room.!
I need not relate the events of the evening—tell
how “squire Higgins sat up to the widow Sprig
gins—how affectionate the young married cou
ple were iu public, making the girls blush and
■ the boys giggle—how Sally Scruggs got jealous
|ef Molly’ Muggs, and tripped her up while she
i was dancing with Bill Snipes, her beau—how
j Maty Spurrs broke one of the looking-glasses in
i displaying her nglv face in it—or how Mag.
| Surly mistook a shadow for a seat, and sat lier
j self tlat on the Hoor, right before the whole com
! |>any.
j Neither need I tell how Bill Snipes suffered ‘
| with his new light bouts —what a dash Bill
j Thompson cut with Li# new shirt collar —how ;
Dick Murphy, having more of the •’ardent”
about Lim than he could carry, fell into the fire
and came near burning himself up—-how J. t:
Turner pulled neariy all the hair out of his head,
and wouldn't dance because he was iu love with
Mrs. Doxy, and couldn’t get her, as she already
had a husband, or how Dick liar dscrabble in
sulted Miss Terry by asking her if the old year
wouldn’t leave her an old maid.
The dance went on 1 All were happy while
the fiddle played, and joy seemed to reign over
the festive gathering. The hour of twelve ap
proached and preparations were made to welcome
the New Year in a becoming manner. Mrs.
Walker, the landlady, had her own notions about
this ceremony, and if she was not consistent in
anything else, she was in this. The New Year
had always been received with a certain ceremo
ny ..t her annual parties, a ceremony she had
concocted the first year of her landladyship, and
to which she would hear of no alterations or
amendments. It was this..
At ten minutes before twelve o’clock, the eotn
jfony took hold of hands and formed themselves
into a circle. They were to join man and woman
all the way round, and if there wore more men
than women or, rice versa , the odd ones were
sent out of the room as black sheep. The efr- j
ole formed old Bob slowly and solemnly walked !
inside of it, and the’! all gctt'ng upon their knees, j
lie played a solemn reqivcm to the expiring year
upon his violin. While playing, he kept his •
eyes upon tin. Dock, and the moment the large
-imnd can).-.-ivauilu-one minute of twelve.!te ceas
ed playing. A dread silence then prevailed un
til the clock pealed the metidian of night, when
the violin instantly struck up a lively air. The
company then jumped to t heir feet and retaining
their hold of each other, moved briskly around
i the room, shouting, ‘A happy New Year !’ This
1 was a strange ceremony, but not inappropriate or
uninteresting.
On this occasion the circle had been formed,
the company were on their knees, and Bob had
just commenced the requiem, when a startling
incident took place. Bill Crawford, the lively
joker, the merry singer, and the never-failing
drinker came slowly into tin* room upon his tip
toes. Ilis face bore an ashy lute, while his large
Jjiack eyes had ah unearthly, ghastly look. At
each step he would place his forefinger of his right
! hand uti his lips and say in a soft wliispci. Hist!’
j II s strange appearance startled all iu the room,
| and even the musician’s fiddle fell from his hands
with the requiem half finished. Not a soul stir
red, or scarcely breathed, as that ragged toper
wiih his wild unnatural look, appr< idled the
centre of the room, and sol. tuuly knelt uu his
bended knees.
‘Hist! hist!’ said he, ‘the C >!d’s Year’s agoin’,
and with us is on its way to h—l. The devil is
after Bill Craw fin and, t lie drunkard—he is—he is—
lie’s coming in the door—he knows me—lie’s
got me by the hair—nsJp, murder, help,—save
me from h—l!’ and thus shrieking, the poor
man, his face assuming the most horrid shapes,
fled to the farthest corner of the room, where he
buried his face in his hands, and uttered the
most agonizing groans.
The utmost consternation pervaded the compa
ny. Vary, alarmed at the horrible sight, fled from
the house ; while all the females who remained
shrieked as if ;bey thought the judgment day
was at hand. The only man present who appear
ed to retain his presence of mind was old Tim.
the landlord. Mounting a chair he cooly said : \
“Make more noise won’t you, all ? Can’t.you
see that nothin’s the matter, only Billy’s got> the
inan-ai’-the poker agin ?’
This served somewhat to quiet the n-.ars of the
company, and old Tim instantly turned his atten
tions to the afflicted man. With two or three
others he approached the crazy drunkard, for the ‘■
purpose of removing him to a more suitable place.!
The moment that their bands touched him, how-1
ever, he shrunk from them as fern a viper. Ilis ]
i face was still ghastly pale, while large drops ‘
of.sweat stood upon his brow. He trembled from
head to foot, and fixing his glaring eyes upon the
landlord, he exclaimed,
“(Jo away you devil: Your hands are hot, you
burn me—oh, my Bod, take the devil away! I’ll
drink no more, if you don’t take me now ! Oh,
murder! murder 1 I'm burning up —my head —
my feet—my hands—my body, is all on fire!—
Good Lord 1 water'! water! water. _
“Bill, don’t you know me?” said old Tim,
“I’m the landlord.”
But the suffering man heeded nothis words.
The most dreadful exclamations, followed by ter
rible groans, still muafe from him, while he trem
bled fmm head to foot,, He wasflnallv seized by
four stout men, and lit-■ ■•gh hejesistod with the
-Jtvength of a.jnariiac, and. uttered the tnost pierc
ing shrieks, was carried to the bar-room and laid
upon the counter. An effort was made to force
liquor down his throat—a good antidote for the
disease when properly administered—but he re
sisted with all his might. Suddenly that resis
tance ceased, his jaws became fixed, his eyes
ceased their rolling, and he lay motionless and
still.
‘There’s no use workin’ any longer with him,’
said Tim, the landlord, “for poor Bill’s drinked
his last drop— he's dead!”
He spoke ilk- truth—the toper had drawn his
last breath. This was his third attack of the
mania /nolu, and it had hurried him away. He !
! took his departure with the expiring year, and
oh. how dreadful was his death !
No more mirth was witnessed in that house
that night. Toper as he was—degraded as lie
had been—no one was more liked about the vil
lage than poor Bill Crawford. lie possessed a
liberal heart, and was ever ready to oblige those
who asked his services, and to discommode him- j
self to render himself useful to others. But he
* loved the bitter cun— : cou!d not resist its fasciua-
• •Prove nllfStliiv*: fail shut trhlrli h bohl.” —Pai ;.
lions—and drank hinwlf to death. Sad, indeed, J
wins the entree of the New Year, at the old tav
ern at the cross-roads! It brought consterna
tion, fright, sadness and sorrow, ami the horrid
scenes of that night will never be erased from the
memory of those who witnessed them.
The “terrible death of Bill < mwford affected no
one mere than old Tim, the landlord. After’
surveying the corpse tilcntlr for some minutes,
during which big tears rolled fast down bis
checks, lie said —
“ Thixniyht l turn over a Xew Leaf- —.Vo li
quor can be boueiht at the 4 Head of Washington’
■ duriti;/ the .V* re i'ur !”
Old Tim was true to liis vow. But a short >
! time after poor Crawford’s body had !.‘vn laid
| in its last resting place, on New Year’s day, every
drop of liquor in the bar of the old tavern at the
,:;v>ss-roads was given to t c. soil to drink. The
landlord became a temperance man and a tem
perance advocate, and now the village of <•- ,
J mainlv through his exertions, statids prominent
| ami'ngjemper.iuce localities.
Mrs. Walker, is still alive, and since the night j
of Crawford’s death, has given two more “ New j
Year Welcomes;” ‘She declares that they are
far more happy without the-use of ardent spirits,
and that she is glad her husband abolished the
bar. She often relates the circumstances of
Crawford’s death to habitual drinkers, who chance
j to stop at the old Tavern, and advises them to do
lon thenext New Year,'if not sooner, what her
husband did that evening—“ Turn over a Xrte
Leaf l”
From the N. Y. Musical World & Tim***.
The Painter Duhobret.
Among the pupils of Albert Durer, in Nurem
burg, was one whom he had received out of char
ity, discerning in him traces of talent which he
considered worth cultivation. The cultivation
was not hopeless under the eye of his master,
j even rn one who had passed the age of forty, who
| was poor, even to indigence, and who had hith
! erto contrived to gain a scanty subsistence by 1
| painting signs on the coarsest tapestry, at that j
| time much used in Germany. The name of this ]
j man, on whom fortune seemed to have wreaked
! her utmost spite, was .'umue! Duhobrct. lie was
; short in stat urc. crooked, and ugly to a proverb,
j and withal had an imperfection Tn his speech
; that rendered his enunciation difficult, and at;
; times unintelligible. Ho was in consequence the 1
i butt of his fellow 1 pupils, and they were coiitin-
Junlly breaking jokes upon him w hich lie bore
! iii patient silence. Still harder to endure wete
j the unfeeling taunts of Madam Purer, whoocca
jsiotially visited the studio, and always had some
thing ftarsli say about the pupil who brought
i her husband no recompense for his trouble. In
I short, poor Duhobii t’s existence was joyless
! enough ; aud it would have been a burden ihtol-;
• erable, with ids crust of brown bread, when he!
had it home, and his lonely life abroad, but !
that lie soinet’incs found himself aide to escape)
from toil and Inundation into the country. There,
under the free sky,..with the smiling landscape j
i around him, with the sound of streams and the
I ong of birds in bis car, the heart of the desolate j
‘artist would eSjtnd. lie amused himself with I
| sketching some of the bcautitid country seats in i
j tin: neighborhood.of Nuremberg. In pleasing)
; occupation, and with no one near to laugh and
j‘-or at him, Samuel was no longer the same man.
j The abject and melancholy expression disap- j
j peared from his face, which lightened and glow-;
1 ed with the strange happiness lie felt, as droop- j
J ing plants revive and brighten in color under the 1
influence of sunshine.
Choosing some quiet and sheltered spot, Du
hobrct was accustomed to pass many hours of
the day seated on the turf, with Ids portfolio oti
his lap. It was then that he produced those
happy touches which gave himself confidence to
undertake labors of more importance, and energy
to shrink from no toil or privation. When he
returned to the city he carefully put aside the un
finished pieces, not daring even to show his best
sketches; for he knew they would bring upon
him a double portion of scorn and derision. lie
i applied liimself quietly to his daily tasks in the
J studio, a;. 1, while he improved in the mechani
cal part of his art, nourished conceptions that
gave him ;i World of !,!s own creation.
Every day its a general rule, Samuel came car-,
ly to the studio of I finer, and remained until
evening. Then he retired to the comfort less cell
:in which lie lodged, and worked in the silent
hours of night t<> transfer to his canvas tie
dream* of beauty lie bad brought from the coun
try. He submitted to incredible privations to
j obtain the means of procuring pencils, colors,
ifce., nay, so arden* was his longing for progress
without obstacle, that bo is said, by the historian
of his life, (o have been only withheld by stern
principle from stealing those indispensable arti
cles fioin his companion?. , . -■
Thus passed three years; and during that time
neither Albert Hurer nor anv of hispupiU knew
of the nocturnal labors t>f thihobret. How the
powers cf his physical nature were sustained Un
der the incessant tasking of their energies, it hi
impossible to imagine. -
But nature at way, the painter was
seized with a fever mc’i rapidly reduced the lit*
tie strength that him, ff© one c*mc
to see what bad became of podeMwfat Wptoougli
for a week he had slot appeared at the studio. No
one had the humanity to supply his wants,
though he bad not for many days tasted food,
merely moistening his lips with water that stood
in a sWne pitcher by bis bedside. As the fevor
•bated, the wild dreams of delirum vanished, and
Samuel thought himself near to death. For tlie
first time a bitterness entered his soul. He felt
a desire to preserve the life which seemed so
worthless to all the world. He must procure food,
and adopted a desperate resolution.
Having risen from his miserable couch, lie
i took under his arm thejast picture he had fin-;
lishedan 1 went out, taking his way tjwards the j
i shop of a vender of pic!area. The piece was otic I
ion which he had bestowed great pains; but lie!
1 resolved to sell it for whatever price was offered, i
if only enough to purchase a single meal.
As he dragged himself with difficulty along tlie 1
street, he passed a house iu front of which a
crowd had assembled. On inquiring the cause
Duhobret learned that a great sale was to take
place. Various works of art, collected .during
| 30 years, by an amateur, whose gallery was thiej
j admiration of all Muremberg, were to be sold at’
’ public auction, the death or the owner having i
1 occurred.
Struck with the hope of here finding a mar
ket for his painting, Samuel pro*cd through the
crowd to the salesman, and by dint of entreaties,
and tie I clings of compassion awakened by bis
wretched aspect, prevailed on him to allow the
piece to b<- offered at auction. The price at which
lie estimated its worth was three thalers. “ la-t i
it g<>,” said the artist to himself; “the money will
procure me bread for a week—if a purchaser can
to found.”
The picture was examined and criticised bv
many persons. The exhausted and anxious artist
stood apart. At last it Was set tip for sale. The
j monotonous voice of the auctioneer repeated “at
J three thaler*—who will buy it I At three tha
>. *s I, I here was no response.
The strtken Sam lid groaned and buried bis
tace in his hands. It was his best work! The
salesman called attention to its lieauties, “Does
it not seem.” be said, ’’that the wind is really :
stirring the foliage of those trees, and that the *
leaves l nd as they glitter in the sun ? How pure
and cy stat line is the water ! what life breathes
in the animal that come to drink at that stream;
and the Abhy of Nuremhurg, with its fine
buildings, and the village in the distance,”
Ac.
“Twenty-five thalers,” said a dry, weak voice,
and the sound startled Duhobrct from the stupor
of despair. He raised himself on liis feet to see
whose lips itlcred the blessed words. It was the
picture vender to whom he had first thought, of
offering his work;
“ Fifty thalers!” cried another sonorions
voice. The speaker was n larcre nmti, dressed in
black.
“A hundred !” responded tlie picture dealer,
evidently in a considerable vexatiou. liis ad
versary was equally prompt.
“Two hundred thalers!”
“Three hundred!”
“Four hundred!”
“A thousand !”
There whs silence among the spectators, and
the crowd pressed eagerly around the opposing
bidders, who, like two combatants, stood in the
centre.
The countenance of the picture-dealer allowed
his agitation in spite of his forced calmness. Af
ter a moment’s hesitation he cried, “Two thou
sand thalers *
“Ten thousand !” responded the tall man quick
ly, while liis face glowed with anger.
“Tweir. v thousand !” The picture dealer grew
pale as death, and clenched his hands violently,!
The tall man, in increased excitement, hid forty j
thousand. The look of triumph he cast upon j
his ad- ersary was too much for the picture deal- j
er; and his eyes flushing rage, he bid titty thou- j
sand.
llow was it meanwhile with poor Samuel ?
; lie thought all that passed a dream, and strove
’ to awaken himself, rubbing bis eyes and pressing
i Ids hand ter his forehead, while the contest for
j his picture went. ou.
i “One hundred thousand !” sounded a voice in
accents of desperation..
“< file hundred and twenty thousand ! and the
| devjl take thee, dog of a picture dealer,
j The discornfitted bidder disap|>-ared in the
crowd; and tlie tall man, who Tiairproved victo
rious, was bearing away the prize, when a lean,
crooked, emaciated, squalid being presented him
self before him. Taking him for a beggar,
the purchaser offered him a small piece of mon
i ‘■>’■
I “If it please you,” faltered Samuel. “I am the j
’ painter of that picture.”
The tall nutn.was count Ifiinkulsbacli, one of
the richest noblemen in Germany. He tore out
a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote on it a few
lines, and handed it to the artist.
“Here, friend,” hy said, “is the order for the
amount, which thou mayest receive at once.—
Adieu.” And he passed oil;,
Samuel finally persuaded himself that all was
not a dream. lie became the owner of an estate,
ami laid many plans for living at his ease, and
cultivating his favorite Art as a pastime, when
an indigestion ended his Jays. The picture that
had brought fortune in so singular a manner re
mained long iu f|e iHissoKsion of Count I >udals
bach, and is now in the collection of the King of
Bavaria.
. - ■ ♦ .. r.
From the Nationftl intelligencer.
William Chambers’s View of the United
States.
The vi'u-irnM,’ Edinburg publisher and author,
William Chamber’s, Esq., who recently made a
brief tour in the northern and eastern States, has
on the eve of his return to Europe, published a
tetter, in which he nys:—
“I leave the United States with much regret.
I carry with me the conviction that a great and
Splendid future }s before them. Contrary to the
opinion of most traveller* froi lt England, I see
here a young but rapidly-growing nation offer
ing an example to the oldest communities in
Europe. It is far from my wish to flatter: hat
what do I not feel fast delight In seeing I lam
overcome with the stupendous pggporttoas jrifil
oowtry—its frr~ iflyflriiSjjd
fleUbftwJpAu sßbsigtancc and hMMMPw]
the Am'Mrnn ]Jsople. so little undgßgbjM and
often mi-represonled t candidly OMwHrM- j
markable love of older, their unaljHMiid j
verance, their love mHB MMHPTtHei r
respect of even the hunflHttjjpWs among them,
their striking sobriety, their admirable education
al systems, their many excellent libraries and
universal fondness for reading ; their press, free
from fiscal exaction; their flourishing institutions,
j untamperod by civil polity ; their economically
and spiritedly got-up ‘■ailways, oow pushed half
! way to the Pacific; the neatness of their dwell
jings ; their wonderful, and to an Englishman
I alarming, progress in the mechanical arts ; the
j marvellous growth of their chics, and, f xtllf add,
their civilty to strangers—l say all this gives
me unqualified pleasure. And When I contrast
their cities, free from pauperism and vice in its
m ist loathsome forms, with what meets the eye
in London, Edinburg, Glasgow, and other large
; cities in Britain; f feel that travellers from the oW
| country have really little reason to speak dis
dainfully of America, or to exaggerate faults
which at most are only partial and of no sort of
account. , ’
“Such being my impressions, it wilL.be my.
j duty to represent, in ray own poor way at home,
■ thing* -rt they deserve to be spoken of. Nov shall
I fail to speak of the advantages to be derived
i by an emigration of the laboring classes general
ly to this country—fleeihg, m they will do, froai
a perishable and unimprovable condition to •
state of comfort and boundless prospects of w#B-
doing.”
“Who Maob ¥ool”— tine of the ladies 000-
neeted with the ‘Methodist Five Foiots MiaNgf
who has under her charge some thirty ifUl* J
boys, called them together on the morning at
Christmas, toj>erfccl them in their answer* (0 ■>
questions she intended to pul tothera before the D
visitors during the afternoon. After
them properly, tic first boy on the right, is
ever to the question, “w ho made you f” was la ‘
say “God.” The next, “Os what were von HHH
reply, “The dost of the earth,” and so on throagli 4
the Catechism, The albitnportant moment han J
tug arrived, the tittle “shavers” were told to (taarii.-i
up. The little head boy, it seems, was i
but the fact being unnoticed by the teacher, M .
; [iroceeded with the question, ‘Who made yoaf* “
hielt elicited the followirg laughable answer!
“I wits made out of de dirt of the ’ert; bahdM J
little feller what God made has got the belly ache j
and gone home.”— a V. K. Mirror.
Alli .T. —The most, beautiful flowers are thaM il,
which arc double, such as double pinks ; doubwi .
roses and double dahlia. What an
jis this agaiti.st the chilling deformity tn ei
i toadstools! “<o marry,” is written on every- |
thing beautiful that the eye rests upon— begins
tilng with tile birds of paradise, auu leaving off*
with apple blossoms.
Fr’ iu the .Southern Recorder.
List of Acts
Das sod by the G-gistature aud signed by the
Governor, |irevious to the recess :
No. 1. To alter and change the time of hold
ing the Inferior Coilrts of the county of Patti
ding.
No. 2. T<> authorise the State Treasurer to
make certain advance, . r
No. 3. Amendatory of the several laws incor
porating the* City of Millcdgeville, so for a*
relates to the election of oificera by tha peo
ple. j
No. 4. To appropriate money from the Treas
ury as a contingent fund for die political years
1854 and 1 Hos.
—No. ft. TW-}ay-wt- ai -w aoaaty
from the counties of Cherokee and Gilmer.
I No. 6. To lay out and form a now county out
l of the counties of Walker and Whitfield, and to
! add a portion of Walker to \\ bitfield, and to or
: ganize said new county.
, No. 7. To incorporate Mai.'hall College in the
j Ciiv of Griffin.
j No. 8. To Ikv cut and organise anew county
from the counties of Franklin and Elbert nod
to provide for the organization of the same.
No. 0. To amend the several acts relating id
the Court o! Common Ideas and’ of Oyer nod
Terminer of the City of Savannah, and for other
pur|M>ses. . .
No. 10. To incorporate tlie McDonough Celt
h'giate Seminary, and to give the Commissioners
of the incorporation pf the town of
that shall hereafter be elected, foil uower and
authority to pass and enforce all such by-latm
mid ordinances us they, in their jttdgnienttSMgr
believe necessary to guard the internet* ©f tbd
citizens residing in ne corporate limits of iiid
tow nos McDonough, and to instlte the perms*
ueut prosperity of said institution.
No. 11. To indemnify Henry M. Burkhalter tat
j loss suataitu and by him in onasequeooeoftbnSHkt#
| selling to him a fractional lot of land to which ft?
! had no title ; also, to indemnify Wm. Toney sot
a lot purchased by him under similar circum
stances. •••■. - r ~~r~7 *
No 12. For tlie pardon of Elijah Bird of
county of De Kalb, now under senterfbe of deMtH
for the crime of nitfrdfeh ,
No. iff. To lay off and orgfcniseatww coaa/tf
from the county of Baker, and to Mttmfc tka
same to a judicial, congressional and’ imilitary
district.
No. 14. For the relief of Nancy S, Header*
No. 15. To lay out and organise new aomfoty
; from the county of Stewart and to provide fol
the organization of the same. • v - ■
No. 16. To allow certain citizens of the State
of Alabama to obtain letters llistthueleij iii?
for other purposes; and to autboriie M©Nii
Kennedy, administrator, to •eB land. *li*
State.. ,
No. 17. To authorize the treasurer of tfcii Agtf
to make- to the members of the . ‘
Assembly and its officers, oeftMM|M|fl££i|g|r
Tax Returns and Tax Collsctur
of AMpr, Gwinnett aud Pulaski.
No. 19. To add a portion ofllabenliaAj)|6ljpl
ty to the county of Lumpkin:, aaqflMßalNNatt 3
act to add theiraet of land knotfa m
wood’s null tract in Uu|l county, to
of Gwinnett, approved January
.. No. 20. .For the relief of the tdS|3|it|Sfe
Ruckmvilfo Pahkintf
r."„ty, general laws of thtf
Plate in *i?£sw
N0,'92. To provide for tbs payment
tain census takers of this State therein frjgaJ
and.. , \
No. 23. To abolish, change and establish rise*
tain election precincts in the counties hereinafter,
named.
No. 24. To anthorhse the MfaVor ajfcS CboncsT
of Macon to lease a iwrtiotLof the Citj Common;
known a? Naper’s old field. - ; . A
No. 23. For tlic relief of Samuel Pasooe.
No. 26. To remove, abolish and qajajißf
olection precincts in certafrt coantied >nr thkt
State. ’
No. 27. To lay out and oqptnTss anew coun
ty front th* county of ItoKalb'aud toi otfrey war.
poses therein specified. *
No. 3#. To lay out and organise a now eofflftdC
from the counties of Dooly and lVwin, find sfhgjF
the same to a Judicial and Congressional dist
*nd for other purposes.
Assented to 20th ‘ jaggfc
To Swasaair van Bxa rH4JTdhßavurOis>
loss.—Chew- a little paiOarjdlr. W=r|Mr
awv the offensive smell.* ‘JgRv JPI^L
RillUrAi PropiDlar
NtMBER 8