The Georgia journal. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1809-1847, February 28, 1843, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextTHE GEORGIA JOURNAL- II niUWID WZSK1T IT uUl'BBIOIt THWEATT, PROPRIETOR, Ar THREE dollars per annum, in advance, Or FOUR Dollart at the end of the year. „„ ..wrlpllos .III l>« rscslwd for leu Hill • »~r. Hr .III say £ JSSSumI Hill Ml .rrMMT" *" !“■“ P ‘it. KMr .III «ot •» '• ‘>7 P«"« °»'* f **«-• JJYJJJ money I. p.W l> ••Ir.oci or ..li.l.elory r.leroon firm. "aDVKRTISKMENTR I.Mrtrd still* g.milrslM. * n . Solo, of LAND, by AdmisUtrslurs, Eiscslor., or floor- ml, by low, w bs bold on the IrK Toeedoy in the ^Hi J?eo the hoore of too lo the fbreoooo end three In the .1 ■ Hji'e ellheCoert h„iHO, 10 the monly In .hieh the property I• ,..^d Notice of theee «loe mo.t bo |ioh In o public f eoetlo SIX - ey PIVS preeiooe to the dey of role- of NKflROES moot hint .public ..cli.n, on the «r.t Tore. Vrf the month, bet.ee. the oeool tn.ro of ool>, .1 tb. pl«e nfpnb- T ihecoootr .herein, etlere leetemeotnry. of Admlnl-trs. “'’,’So.rd'en.h^ *..y her. bee. Rented, lint fill., SIXTY hIVs suites thereof, 1. one of the poWle lunette, ofthin Stole, ..dot ■he door of the Coort-bonee, .here eocb eolee ore 10 be held. ..lie. for the .ole of reenonl Property, out bo|leeu In like men yoRTV deye provioH to the doy of eole. Mice to the Debtor, ond Creditor, of on Eetote mint be publl.hctl FORTY doy., .. ib.t epplirntloo .ill ho mode to the Conrt nf Ordlnnry fin . .Jell LAND, mu.t he nnbllobeil for FOUR MONTHS. 'Voire for Inoro to .ell NEIiltOKS, rau-t bo publlehcd fur FOUR MONTHS,beforeony order obulote ehnll bo mode thereon by the C Vnh.iine,r oflhi.kinil comlnnee torecclrc prompt otlenllon 01 the 0«" of the CEOROIA JOURNAL RFWTTANCKS RY MAIL—"Apo.tme.termny rnclo.e money ... letter to the pnbli.hor of e ne.epeper, to pny the euhecrlption of n .e.r.l oerton, end fr.nktho letter, if .rittonby Inm.elf.’ - doer Ken- ,U U’t-o. JmirtraL J. H. 8TEEI.E it P. THWEATT, Editors. MILLEDGEVILLE, TUESDAY. FEBRUARY 28, 1843. POETICAL. [WRITTEN Ftin THE BOSTON EVKNINO BULLETIN.] THE DREAMS OF YOUTH. A voutli lay uiuler an old irne’n shade. Where fury elves iheir bower* had made; Faint with the heal of a summer day, Hy a cooling rill in repoae lie lay* Slumber stole o’er him, and aa he dreamed, The fairest light to his vision gleamed. The first as a cunning and Hrtfulbov. Taught him to love, and proinisod him joy ; With a silly credence he hared bit heart To the point of the crual archers dart, VL'K.n an*.l ilia slnO nml alinnlftfl vritll a< Neat Poesy shook her magic wreath.— And thoughtstlmt burn, and words tlint breathe Were truerd on the snowy page at will, So swiftly flew the proffered quill, Jtiit tlio world looked cold, anil Poesy found No halm to cure Love's cruel wound. He turned from the muse with n careless eye, And it fell on sweet Art, who was kneeling by ; - He grasp'd the pallet, and Nature fair. Was '.nocked till the gaping crowd did stare; Hut he left it ill sadness, for even An, Had failed to soothe his aching heart. And he mourned his fate, since cruel I.nve, Away from Ilia woumled heart would rove, Hut afar in the mist hi* eyes now meet Au urchin toiling up the sleep, Who seems in his close embrace to hold An ivory cup well filled with gold. The spirit to the wondering youth then said, “To me thou owcat thy daily bread, Now take this coin,’twill ease the smart Which Love iiaa left in thy foolish heart; The talisman keep, ond the hov-god Love Afar from thy heart will never rove.” llecaught at the gold—but the moaster Time Had strode on a pace with l.ovr and Rhyme. And passioniesa now was Ilia youthful breast, For he lay in the sleep of undreaming rest. HOW TO HARRY. Look out for a girl that ia healthy and young, Willi more in her eye than you hear from her tongue , And tlio’ she he freckled or burnt to a tan, . Vet she is tlto^girl for a sensible man. While riches will wretchedness often in life Go link'd when your riches are got by your wife; Hut marry,and niuke all th* riches von can, Like a hold, independent and sensible man. Look out for girl who is gentle in mind. And modest and silent,nod tell her your mind, If she’s wise as bewitching, she’ll welcome the plan, Anil soon he the wife of a sensible man. Then cherish her excellence wisely and kind, And he to small foibles indulgently blind, For so make you happy, if any thing can, The wife of a sober and sensible man. MISCELLANEOUS. [FROM graham’s MAUA7.INB FUR JANUARY.] THE COQUETTE, Or the Game of Life. BY MRS. FRANCES S. OSGOOD. The brilliantly lighted saloon in which Mrs. Clifford's company were assembled was suddenly darkened. At the same moment the curtuin roso, and displayed to expectant eyes the first *• tableau vivant.” It was strikingly beautiful. A dark, fierce looking slave-dealer stood behind a Persian girl, from whose graceful form and face he hud just withdrawn the veil, thereby revealing to the gaze ot a voluptuous looking Turk, sealed on a pile of cushions, so rare a galaxy of charms, that not only his eyes, hut those of ull the speclutors, were riveted upon her. Tho striking timidity of her attitude, us Hhe stood with her drooping hands locked languidly and meekly before her, was exquis itely gruceful—her downcast eyes were “dnrklv, deeply blue," •* and auburn waves of geinmed and braided linir” fell glistening over her rounded form, in its becoming vest of scurlel cashmere, and reach ed nearly to the feel, which peeped oui beneath the full while salin panlulouns, in slippers gorgeous with jewels and embroidery. For n moment tlio lovely vision glittered, and was gone—and seen no more until the closing tub. leau, which represented Retzch's thrilling picture, called *' Tho Game of Life.,' A youth w itli Satan pluving at chess—his stake, a soul! The guar dian spirit of the lutlcr is seen at his side, with half averted face, gnzing in mingled sorrow nud compassion on the game, which lie has almost lost. —And in that while-robed ungel, the heuiiliiul torm and features of the Persian girl again appeared, so louchiugly lovely, so pure and spiritual, that the gazers held their breath in rapture. “Toll me—tell me her name!” exclaimed u young artist, as the curtain fell. It is Lilian Clifford, the daughter of our host ess,” was the answer. But where is Funny T” said another. Ohshe is nursing her little brother, I sup pose. He is an invalid, you know, nod she is tie- voted lo him. But we shull see her by and by. tot her mother insists epon her appearing at the bull, though she could not persuade her tu take part in the tableaux. But hurk ! I hear the band—let us join the dancers!" A fancy bull followed the tableaux, and as the artist stood near the door, watching for the en- trance of the angel, a young and blooming girl, in tho nncient dress of a French marquise, glided by him, and with a low and playful courtesy to Mrs. Clifford, took her stniion hy her side, whenco she was immediately led to tho dance by the Lucifer of the tableau, dould it be Lilian? Tho transfer- ination was so complete, that lie could hardly be lieve his eyes. The beautiful hair powdered— drawn back from the brow, and raised to nil enor ■nous height—tiny black patches hero and there setting offher exqusito complexion—the d irk stiff brocade looped up over while salin—the monstrous fan—the daimy French lisped out at intervals of the quadrille—the stalely, graceful minuet motions —nil. all was perfect! •* What a study !” murmured tlio fascinated art ist, who, by the way, looked very picturesque him self, as ho stood leaning against a pillar, in a Span- tah costume, worthy of Murillo. s My guardian angel !'* whispered tho youth win had been Lucifer's antagonist in the tableau, anti who now nppeared in the garb of a sailor, •• will ] you not dance the next qjndrillo with nm! I need your protection moru than over, amid the tompla- tions of such a scene us this.” “Joloujous veille sur toi !’* replied the lady, with an eloquent smilo. and n bow ofnssent. Luci- for scowled malignantly, and muttered in the sui- lot ’s enr— “ Julian Delaney, you will lose the game!” T lie young luan’k eyes flushed fire us he an swered, “You are a skilful player, Burlon, but I, fur one defy vour arts!" A slight sneer was Ihe rep'y, but D. I.tncy pnased oil without designing farther notice of his rival. At the snme time, a modest looking, dark-eyed girl, in tlie simple dross ol a qunker, uppruached, and whispered— “ Lilly, dear, 1 wish you could come to tlio nur. eery for a moment, after this dance; Willie wants lo see your dress." "Nonsense, Fanny, I can’t leave till the bull is over. Willie must wail— ! ’ “ But he will be asleep then, Lilly !” ** VVell, well, I can’t help it if he is!” and with n bewitching smile, and tho grace of a Hebe, site turned her partner in tho dnnee. Funny sighed, and the artist sighed It*), and soon after begged an introduction, not lo the coquettish marquise, but lo the timid qunker girl. Who is I hut noble-looking being with my sis ter?’ sudddenly exclaimed Lilian Clifford lo n friend, struck for the first lime, hy his manly form, and dark, hul beautifully chisselcd face, lighted up hy a pair of brilliant Byron eyes, and a mouth full of expression. “That? Why, Frank Russell,the artist,to be sure. Don’t you know—he has just returned from Italy. What do you think of him?’’ *• Think of him ? He looks like a man—and that is more than you can say of any otto else in tho ruom. Look ot lhat o:tilude ! and tli-n his voice ! —hark ! did you ever listen to such tones—so rich —so deep ? 1 should like to hear him read poetry —and his munner, too—there is a calm and gentle dignily about it, which makes one involuntary look up lo him as to a superior being. I must go and speak to Fanny.” And tripping up to her sister, site tupped her cheek with her (tin, exclaiming.— “A penny fur your thought, Fanny. How abstract ed you look !” ** A thousand guineas for the thought, Miss Clif ford,” said Russell, itt a low tone, and with an ear nest gallantry, which well became his chivalrous beauty and beuring. •’ Toll him yuu will give your thought for his,” whispered Lilian, playfully, “ fur ho too was in a reverie.” ’• Nay, I would givoan age’s thought of mine, for one moment’s o yours, and rejoice in the ex. change,” murmured Russell, with a smile, still bending his dark eyes upon Funny’s drooping lids. *• Come, Funny, you shall tell it now,” continued ter sister. “ I cannot—don’t ask nte, Lilian,” faltered Fan cy, while a deep blush stolu into her pure, pale cheek. “ Well, at least have the sense to introduce me to your new beau—can’t you?” whispered Lillian, pettishly. The introduction took place and the graceful co quette tried all her sportive and beguiling wiles, without any apparent effect upon the heart of the handsome stranger. While thus engaged, Delnncy claimed her hand for the dance. - Olt! Julian—you will oxcuso mo, I know, and dunce with Fanny litis time, lor dear litttle Willie has sent for me. I will bo back soon. Mr. Rus sell, may I trouble you fur your arm through this crowd?” “ That’s right, dear Lilly, I am so glad,” cried Fanny, hor sweet fneo beaming with joy, at her sister’s supposed kindness to the little in valid. ‘•Yon are Willie’s guardian angel, too. then, Lilian,” said Deluncy, witli a look of admiring af fection. Tho artist sighed ogain—hul gave her arm to the lady, and accompanied her to the foot of the stairs. On their way she contrived to tell a dozen different people where she was going. “ Wait for me here a few moments, Mr. Rus sel!—I shall hate to enter tho ruom alone,” and she glided up the stairs, and vanished from his gaze like a dream of light. The artist leant against tlio balusters, and lost himself in thought—how long he knew not; but ho was acknowledged by a low melodious laugh at his side, and starling, he found the soft hand ol Lilian Clifford on Ins arm, and her lovely eyes rais ed smilingly to his. It is your pleasure, noble don, lhat we re-enter t to saloon ? I have hod my arm in yours for some three minutes, patiently awaiting your move ments." Russell colored, as he asked her forgiveness, and unable to resist the witchery of her every word und look, abandoned himself to be influence during the rest of tho evoning. side, when Mr. Russell was announced. I have come lo tlmi,k you for your kindness during my sojourn here, my dear Miss Clifford, and to bid you ‘good bye.” Fanny slurted, hut hy a bravo effort restrained Iter emotion, and said, in a low tone— “ Are you to be long absent ?” “ Only a year or two !” Only a year or two \ Fortunately for Fanny, at that moment the door opened, and Lilian, attired for a ball, and radiant in brauty, entered. She colored, when she saw her loved—her eyes filled with tears, und springing furwaid, she caught his hands. "Frank! deur Frank ! furgivo me !’’ “ Lilian Clifford, you little know tho heart yoar lightness has lost you. Farewell!” " As you please,sir!” With a light laugh, site drew up her graceful figure, and walking with the step of a queen, a fai ry queen, lo the glass, adjusted a gem in her hair, ns calmly as if nothing had happened to ruffle or to grieve her. He turned again to her sister. Ho took her hand- -it trembled violently in his—he gazed on her blushing and downcast face, and wondered that he had never Reen its hunuty before. Pure, soft and spiritual, with an exquisite delicacy and trans parency of complexion, und an expression ever varying with her varying emotions. Funny’s face was not one to strike the beholder nl first sight, but it grew upon hi* heart, and once seen in all its beau ty, lightened up liv tho full warmth of her lofty and generous soul, it left un impression which was nev. er afterwards effaced. Funny loved io tho truest sense of the word. Her heart was in all she did. and said, and looked, and a great heart it was— but ulus! how little appreciated hy those around her. Well! Frank depnrted, and Lilian, ns he closed the door, threw herself into her sister’s arms, and poured out her sorrow and repentance. And Fan ny soothed her with her loving voice, and half forgot her own deeper grief, in pity for Iter his- ler’s. Not thriefl your branchiae limbs have flown Since I behold young Lawrence deed. Olt! your eweol eyes, your low replies, A grunt enchantress you msy be ; Hut there wee hint serose his thront Which you bed hsrtlly cored to seo. Poor Lilian struggled for a moment as if suffo cating, and then fell at his feet insensible. Fanny sprung forward to raise her exclnming, "Oh Frank ! why did you read that verse ? You surely could not have lieurd—” “VVltal—what—Fanny ?” he cried ns hn hung over the lovely, lifeless form of her whom he now felt to be dearer to him than ever. Too soon, he heard the truth ! Too soon ? Too latejfor his revived affection. Julian Delaney, who, ns the reader already knows, was passionately de voted to Lilian, had been, during Frank’s last visit in Italy, alternately petled and scorned ns tho at tentions of his rich rival Burton had varied from cold to warm; until at lengtli tho growing empress, sement of the latter’s manner had decided her to dismiss, nl once and lorever, tho unfortunate and interesting victim of her coquetry. That very day his lifeless body was borne homo to a widowed mother, Tlie same paper which announced litis tragic event, also announced tho elopement of the Luci fer of my tale, with the wife of his most intimate VOL. XXXIY—NO 22. Iii a few months lie followed her tufifcr untimely ^ruvo. For yenrs he wandered mourning and all no. At length, he renewed to Funny the offer of his hand und heart. Firm, but sad was her re- ply- “Dear Frank. I can never be your wife ; but I will be a mother to your precious child.” “Take her then, and tench her to love me, as none have ever loved mo jot.’ And Fanny hushed the beating heart that still worshipped ihe very shadow of that noble form, and devoted her life, with all a moth er’s tenderness, to the child of her lost and lament ed Lilian. Woman’s Tenderness and Love.—It has often been remarked lhat, in sickness, there is no hand like woman’s hand, to heart like woman’s heart— und there is not. A man’s breast may swell with unutterable sorrow, and apprehension may rend his mind ; yet place him by the sick couch, and in tlio shadow, rather than light, of the «ad lump that watches it—let him have to count over the long dull hours of night, and wait, alone and sleepless, Ihe struggle of the gray dawn into tho chamber of suf fering—let him he uppointed to this ministry, even for the sake of the brother of his heart, or the fa ther of his being, and his grosser nature, even where it is most perfect, will lire; his eye will doso and hi9 spirit grow impatient of the dreary ia?*k ; und, though love and anxiety rerfmin undiminislied, his mind will own to itself a creeping in of an irre- friend. Lilian recovered from her fainting fit to find | 8< .|U„hncss which, indeed, lie may ha asham ed of, and struggles -o reject, hut which, despite of all his efforts, remains to characterize his hor artist lover bending over her with u gaze in Inch his whole soul spoke lo iters ; but the in stant he met her lie turned away, determined nevet nguin to betray his feelings to Iter scorn. Still he visited the house from lime to time, and was often allured to the very verge of a declaration by Iter bewildering beauty and the childlike, pleuding, playful sweetness of her manner. One doy lie took up a book, in a blank ously. Her ear acquires a blind man’s instinct, us which site had been scribbling sotno lines. When j |im(j |() lj|r|e cntc | ieg t | le slightest si r or she saw him turn to them, site sprung up with a whisper, or the breath of the now more.than.ever loved one, who lies under the hand of human uff’ec. mure, and prove in one instance,at least, his manly weak ness. But see a mother, a sister, nr a wife in his place. The woman fuels no weariness, and even no recollection of self. In silence, in the depth of night, she dwells, not only passively but so fur us the qualified terms may express our meaning, joy- CIIAPTER It. Luxurious ns a lady's boudoir, was the studio in which Frank Russell was seated, three weeks af ter the ball at Mrs. Clifford's. Lounges,ottomans, damask drapery, mirrors, paintings, statues and books, were ull urranged with a graceful and care less elegance, which told of the artist throughout— while lie Itimscif, in his riclt crimson tunic, his dark hair waving beneath an embroidered velvet cap, completed the beauty of the picture. Before itim, on his easel, was the half-length of it girl in the Spanish costume. Slto was looking over her shoulder, with an arch smile—the top of Hie superb fun, which she held, was pressed to her dimpled chin, and a black lace mantilla, thrown hack on her head, fell over her snowy shoulder to her waist; while clusters of soft dark hair mingled their golden glow with its shade, and softened the brilliant benuty of a face radiant with youth, love and happiness. “ My own, my precious Lilian,” murmured the artist, us he gazed at his own exquisite creation," 1 am sure she loves rne—just so she looked last night, when I begged her to grant me an interview this evening. She guessed my purpose, and her whole soul was in her eyes, ns she looked her re. ply. But 1 must touch that urnt once more—it is hardly round enough yet.” lie passed behind a marble pedestal, on which was a statue of Love, lo a tahlo whero lay his palette and brushes. Ere he reappeared, a parly uf ladies and geutlemon entered Ihe room. " Lilian Clifford, it is you to perfection claimed one of the former. *• Is it u likeness of the laughing elf?” " A likeness! No I by heaven—'tis she herself!” exclaimed a gentleman of the party, and then the cold, sneering voice of Burlon, tho tableau Lucifer, was heard— " But whero is your artist lover, Miss Clifford ? We thought lo lio I him at his devotions, before your portrait. Report declares the sittings to be nut ‘like ungel visits,’ but most unreasonably pro longed.’ Frank waited lo hear her indignant reply to this impertinence. How was he conlbunded by what followed. "Nay, Burton, report can hardly accuse me of so preposterous n purpose, as that of encouraging a nameless artist.” " It accuses you of encouraging a nameless poet, us well.” •• You refer to Julian Delaney. Be assured, sir, that they themselves know me better.” The statue fell with a crush at her feet, and the artist coiifronlcil Iter with folded arms, and flushing eyes. " Thank God, madam, l do know you, ere it is too late I” and bowing Ituughtily, ho left the room. Lilian turned pale, hut forced a laugh, and began tu criticise the pictures. Fanny Clifford sat alone that evening by tho fire CHAPTER tu. Three years passed, nnd again was tho artist, no longer a nameless, one, seated in his studio, in Bond street. New York ; und again stood Funny and Lilian Clifford by his side. They were in in mourning for the little brother, mentioned in Ihe commencement of my story, and Fanny was paler and sadder than of yore ; hut Lilian was gay and brilliant, ns ever. Mr. Russell,” she said, with her sweet, per. sunsive smile, "I will have a luok at this picture turned to the wall.” Russell colored, as he sprang forward lo pre vent her. It was too late—she had turned it nnd revealed a striking likeness of her sister, in the qunker dress which she had worn at the fancy ball ! For one instant, Fanny’s eyes met the thrilling t ,aze of Frank’s. The next, the lashes fell, but they were wet with tears, as she turned away, touched to the soul by this proof of his remem brance. And Lilian, after gazing at both, with a proud curl of her beautiful lip, cxclaimod— ‘‘Oh ! 1 see it all now—excuse mo, geod people —I would be tho last to interrupt so interesting a tete-a-tete. Good morning.” And ere Fanny could rnovo to detain her, she was gone. They were alone, nnd Russell turned to the trembling and bewildered girl at his side with a look of mingled reverence nnd affection. “Fannv, you see there a pruofthal I hove trea. sured your image in my heart—would to heaven I night wear the original there. Speak, dearest, will you—can you be mine 1" Fanny’s eye and cheek grew luminous, with the rapture ofthnt moment. But the light, tho glow died away, as suddenly as it came. She thought of Lilian, and though she blamed her coquetry nnd folly, she pitied hor disappointment. With one glorious effort she repressed her tears—the sighs, that struggled for liberty, and replied in a low, but clear voice, Mr. Russell. I can never bo your wife I” Struck hy her calm, decided tone, he stood for a moment gazing at her in despair; but that gaze called to her cheek a blush so speaking, that hope revived, and with all Ihe glowing eloquence of which he was master, he besought her lo retract her resolution. Overcome hy his passionate en treaties. Fanny could on'y falter, half uncon sciously, in reply— “But Lilian—” “Lilian has wronged mo—but thnt light dream Is over. Do not, oh ! do not disappoint me in ono for dearer nnd holier.” Poor Fanny! it was a moment of strange trial, but hor heart wns strong. She raised her clear, sad eyes to his, nnd again replied— "Russell, I can never be your wife !” Ho dropped hor hand. With a slow hut unfal tering step she pussod from tlio room—reached Imme—lockod herself into her chamber, and for once giving way tothe full tide of her emotions. ept fur hours unceasingly. Her toars relieved Iter, and after n fervent prayer to Heaven for strength, she was able to resume her occupations, with a subdued and sclt-approving heart. Mr. Russell, you have grown very stupid of late, do reud nte something," said Lilian, oi.e even ing, ns they sat with n few friends in the library. And what ?” said Frank. 'Oh ! there is a new, fresh, uncut volumo of poems by Tennyson oil ihe table. Isn’t that de. ightful f" But I shall want n paper knife.” That you shall have, and keep it, too, os a re ward for your trouble,—and oh! congratulate me! I have just lied an idea,—while you arc cutting the leaves, I will scribble it down. Lend me your pencil, Frank !" And ere he had divided half a dozen leaves, she had traced in fairy characters tlio following lines *. bright blush, and sportively pinced Iter little hand over the wards. Uuuble to resist tlio templniior, ho pressed his lips to it involuntary. She immediately withdrew it, but leaned over his shoulder as ho read— My bark in A wintry i Ami no one And no 01 i a dangerous sea, kv above it. ninda Ilia li, tm Tor r a seems lo love it. Oli! would that in e kinder world, Ere htonn its Trail must shiver, Oil I would lo (iod ila sails were Tut I'd Forever and forever. Touched Sy the sad sentiment, lie looked up in her face. Her eyes, filled with tears, were bent upon Itim,and her hand trembled ns ho took it.— "Are the verses yours, Lilian ?’’ ‘Olt. Frank ! 1 should not have lot you read them I” He was thrown off his guard. They are yours, then? And I—may not I ‘mind the helm ?’ Dear Lilian ! say that I may. She hid her eyes upon his shoulders. Her soft hair touched his face. He laid Itis cheek to iters—— their destiny was scaled. 'I he next moment she raised lhat beautiful luce bathed in blushes and smiles, und clasping Iter hands with a sweet, low, ringing laugh, exclaimed it) tlio words of ono oi our finest poets— "Now,helmsman, for a hundred lives, Oh ! Biecr tlio bark aright"’ He caught her to his heart. Ah, Frank ! you little know what a frail, light think you have undertaken lo guide. Be happy while you muy. CHAPTER IV. A twelvemonth after the wedding—i charming cottage in Brookline—'Lilian, Frank und Fanny in the former’s boudoir- A beautiful infant lying on ihe rich cushions of the couch. There is a light cloud on tho noble brow of the artist;—he has been looking over a milliner’s bill ! His young wife looks listless and weary. Will you lend me your pencil, Frank?” said Fanny, He handed it to hor ; there was no lead in it. She unscrewed the top—and out fell tho lit. tlo roll of paper, placod tliero long ago by Lil ian- "May I read it, Frank ?” "Certainly, dear.” She read it—started—changed color ; but with out farther sign of emotion, quietly returned it to the pencil-case. Lilian looked imploringly at her, nnd Fanny roso to leave the room. Frank saw it a ||.—"Stay. Fanny ; did you compose those lilies?” —Funny was silent—she trembled liko u leaf. Russell continued, "I saw in your scrap book, tho uther day, signed hy your mime, a copy of some verses which Lilian guve me on tho day of our en gagement. Here they arc. Are they yours or Iters ? Funny shrunk hack ; but ho insisted, and she took the paper—reud the line— ".My bark it on a dangerous sea,” and burst into tears. Ho stood before her pale, but rcsululc. "Speak, Fanny, I implore you, are they yours ?” Sho hesitated ; but site could not lie. She look ed at Lilian ami flew to Iter side. "Oh, Frank ! she is fuinting; come to her quick!’ “Let her come to herself; she has deceived me. Lot her forgive herself, it she can !” Tito sternness of Ills tone aroused her. She rose and tottering toward him, threw herself in tears at his feet. Oh, Frank ! do not look at me so ! They are lion. Her step, as in obedience to an impulse or a signal, would not awaken a mouse ; if she speaks her accents are u soft echo of natural harmony, most delicious to the sick man’s our, conveying all that sound can convey of pity, comfort, and devil, lion ; and thus, night after night, site tends him liko a creature sont from a higher world, when all earthly watchfulness has failed; her eye never winking, Iter mind never palled, her nature, that at all other times is weakness, now gaining n super human strength and magnanimity ; herself forgot- ten, und her sex alone predominant.— baniin. A Gentleman.—“Stop, Nelly,” said Mr. Long shanks, “dont use the word gentleman lightly.—It is a term that should be very rarely,very cautiously, and very respectfully applied to any one. Gold is the most precious oi metals, Nelly, and diamonds the most precious ofstones, but gold and diamonds are very plentiful things when compared to gentle men. The first you find in many a foo.’s purse, tlio second you find hanging round the necks of flirts and demireps, and half harridans, hut let me tell you.vou may go into nine hundred nnd ninety- nine out of all the saloons in Europe without hnd- ing such u thing as ono true gentleman in them. A gentleman, Nelly, is not the man lhat wears fine clothes, either upon his body or his mind—1 moan, not a man who dresses himself in silks and lino colors, smart coats and well cut hoots; who has a fashionable air, nnd assorts his garment with till sorts of propriety; nor ho who on tho principles of Chesterfield, decks his mind with graceful though la, shapes Itis demeanor by tho most approved rules, and studies all that may catch the outward sense nf those with whom he mingles in this world. No, Ncl ly. no, this is not a gentleman; no more lltun a piece of gilded brass which hoars the King’s head upon oi.o side, and his arms upon the other, is a guinea. The gentleman, Nelly is the man who in his Itenrl possesses live consciousness of universal benevo- lence and personal rectitude ; the one giving to Itis whole manners and demeanor, grace, suavity, and gentleness ; the other communicating to his coun tenance and his limbs both dignity and ease.— I his Nelly, is a gentleman.—The Commissioner. Important to Dandies.—The correspondent of the National Intelligencer from Now York says: "I do not know whether you cure to cater litr the taste of the dandies among your readers, but it may interest here and there a mouslachio at Washington lo know that, by the latest accounts from Paris, all fashion in gentlemen’s nppnrcl and outer seeming is at an end. An attempt having lately been made to rc-introduce the lusltion of short hair, and to n- bandon straps and suspenders, (tlni waistenut cov ering the waist to tho hips,) it was fully conceded hy the tailors nnd hair-dressers that among notice able men there were no followers ol any pecu iur style of costume and that, lo the great praise of hu man ingenuity, every dandy in Paris seemed to have worked out Itis separate idiosyncrasy. 1 cannot imagine a greater consternation than will bo spread by this dynasty of vuriety over the Mere- oytped classes of his country. Wo ure, as l have remarked in a previous letter, tho most gregarious people on the earth, and in any crowd, such as Broadway on Sunday, it requires sharp pratico to distinguish one person from another, ho exactly are all men of all ages alike. Fancy the dismay of each New York particular,"if he is inexorably coin, pelled to invent a costume sui generis fur binned• My observing informant, who is lately from Paris, tells rne, however, they continne to wear tile full Fanny’, lines; but it was to win your love that I 1 complement of heard, und that this appendage seems deceived you ! Will you seo your Lilian suffer I to have become a fixture lo be rated ItercaHcr with and not forgive her?” Who could resist those J »he nose and eyes, nnd worn, as G.id peases All! had I power, I'd charm my gift To ho a magic treasure ; For it ahntild never part a puge That aliould not give you pleasure! Rolling the paper in ns small a compass as possi. ble, she screwed it into the top of tho pencil.cuse and returned it lo him with a grace so bewitching, that his Hd dream began toMisturb him again. He hurriedly turned over tHe leaves ol the book und smiled half in bitterness, as a few lines caught his glunce and told upon his heart. Fixing his eyes earnestly upon Lilian’s face, he said in a deep meaning tone, “I have found a poem which I .hiitk you will appreciate. Shall I read it ?” The poem wns that strangely moving one, called Clara Vero de Vero,” and his low, rich, manly, but melancholy voice thrilled to her very soul us ho proceeded. The second verse commences as follows ; »ye8—those sweet, imploring tones—that almost angel loveliness. Frank could not. She was lor. given, und the gumo of life went on. Negro Wit.—How much ya charge mnssa inug. Urate lo marry me and Miss Dinuh ? »* Why, Clem, I’ll marry you for two dollor-*.” CHAPTER V ** ^' VO d°N aP *— W *‘ al J 0U C,mr 45° 10 ,nurr y w *‘ ,le “Lilian, is not that the ring Burlon was showing I generally charge them five dollars, you the other day ? I urn astonished you should „ ® J ° ; tin. 1I, r Clem. Lady Clara Varr d« V«re, I knaw you proud to hear your name ; Your pride if yet no mate Tor mine, Too proud fo care from whence 1 came. These lines, and those which follow, called tho fire into Lilion’s eyes nnd cheeks hut she tossed back her graceful head with a proud and care, less smile. Lady Clara Vera de Vere, .Some m< eker pupil you mtiat And ; Fnrwera veu queen of all that in, I could not aioop to aucli a miud. Rut when became to the words— have kept it so long. It was imprudent, dour, very.” “I shall see him to-morrow, ond will return it then, dear Frank, There, now, smile again—do there’s u darling.” The next evening the ring had disappeared, and Frank smiled approvingly as he took her hand in his. “I could not hear to touch this dear little hand esterday, Lilian, but I love it now.” Oh/ because Burton’s ring is gone. He was glad to have it back, for he thought it lost.” Six weeks afterward, Fronk found tho ring in n box. where site had requested him to look fur o missing brucelot. Inside the ring wus an inscrip. lion— 1 “My heart goes with It, Lilian.” It was a gift, then! not a loan ns she hud declared! His heart grew chill with the thought. He looked at her and murmured, “So lovely, yet so light and false!” She was half dressed fora hall, oh ! how exquisitely beautiful she looked! She was braid, ing her rich brown Imir, and those slight, snowy, jeweled fingers glanced down the luxuriant tresses with the speed and light of a snow.fluke gleaming in sun. She turned toward him ; the truth flashed upon her. Site remembered the ring, nnd pale with fear, stuggered lo his side, lie looked up, without n word, placed tho ring in her hand and left the room. The ring was returned to the giver; but not to Lilian returned the love and confidence other husband. She bad never been strong, nnd from thnt day she faded. Frank watched over her with Fanny tenderly and truly ; but she felt his trust was gone. Well ya marry us like white folks and I givo ya five dollars too.” Why Clem,that is a curious notion, hut ns you desire it. I’ll marry you like white folks for five dollars.” The ceremony being over, and Clem and Dioali made one, the Magistrate asked for Ins fee. •• Oli no, massa, you no come up lo de gicement; va no kiss de bride !” “ Get out of iny office you black rascal.” And so Clem got married for nothing. A Quack’s Expedient.—A quack doctor was once called in to see a sick child, lie looked ut the patient, felt his pulse, shook his head, hemmed, shook his noddle ominously, felt the patient's puls.?, and cast his eye upon the patient. ** What ails my child ?” asked the father. ** I don’t know,” replied Muddle.hags. “Can you do nothing for him?” breathed tlio anxious sire. ••Nothing.” wns the ‘ response ; “but,” added the distiller of roots and yarbs, “ l have somo mo- dicitie with mo that will throw him into fits, and then l can cure him, for I’m a perfect tiger on fits!” Remedy por Dropsy.—Take two handfuls the green or the inner bark of tho while or coinm> cider steep them in two q'inrts of Lisbon wi t wonty lour hours. II this wine cannot be had Te riffe or Madeira will answer. Take a gill efe morning, or more if it can be borne on the stomac< Tftrtftg. Tom Moore’, songs hsv. been perodwd oftenter then the productiooe of elmoet any other poet—a «ood proof of their excellence end popularity.— But whet would the flreat “Little”—Moore, say to the following on “This world is all e fleeting •how”: Th. bustle, at* all. ft..ting .how For mu’, llluaion gtun ;. The big* of bran, th. rack, of tow,. Ara ffso to gull th. .imp!, hu.u— They’., all a chut by Heins! If your coat is comfortable, wear it two or three months longer ; no matter if the gloss is off. If you have no wife, get one ; if you hare, God bless her—stay at home with her, instead of spending youreYenings at fooleries. Be honest, frugal,’plain —seek content and happiness at home—bo indus trious and persevering ; and our word for it, if you are in debt you will soon become easy, no matte t who may be President, us what may he the ; r . of stocks. “The beginning of strife is likethe letting out of water.” Young persons are not aware how much they lose when they begin to depart front a course of rectitude, especially when they look upon such departure with a feeling of complacency. It is “tlio beginning of the end” of atf. virtue. One devia tion from the path of truth, one sacrifice of princi ple will prepare the way fora life of sorrow, or wlialis worse, for such confirmed vice as shull end in utter ruin. Tlie Vatican,a magnificent palace in Rome, is said to consist uf seven thousand rooms. It is au- vantugeously (ituated oo an eminence, one of the seven hills in which ancient Rome was built. Tlio parts of it tlie most admired, ere the grand staircase, the Pope’s apartments ; and above nil, the Vatican Library, so beautiful a fabric, that it is said it will admit ol noimprovemont. and aiso the richest in the world, belli in printed books and manuscripts. How to clean Kid Gloves.—Take a piece of flannel, moisten it with a lit vie milk, rub it on a cake of nice hard snap, end then apply it lo tlio soiled part of the glove. As soon as yuu have re moved the dirt, rob the kid will) a dry piece of flan nel.—Cure must be takon not to make tlie glove too wet. In these hard times people scour up and make every thing go ns far they can. Sallaratcs.—This is the name of tt prepara tion of potash used very extensively, by bakers and Ituusekeepers to lighten the dough of cakes and bis. cuiis. It is injurious to health in a. high degree, and is especially so to that of. dyspeptic persons All alkalis tire duterious to tho coaly of the stom ach. Sometimes they will attbrd present relief to a burning stomach, hul the use of them sltuuld al ways be uvoided. To feed Fowls.—Corn given - to fowls should bo crushed and soaked in water ;. this helps diges. lion ; und hens will lay in winter, that are so fed lint would not otherwise. Feed your fowls in win. ter with bones powdered fine ; and they will need less corn, and Iny as plentifully as at any season of tho year. Tlie bonus supply Ihe carbonate of lime, which is necessary for ihe production of the shell, and a pai l of tlie yolk of the egg. Egg shells, oyster shells, chalk, or uuburul lime answer a sim ilar purpose. Consumption.—Persons afflicted by this dis. ease are said to havo been cured entirely, hy in haling Iodine, A writer in the Philadelphia Ledger (supposed to bt a physician), cites several strong cases in which litis simple remedy lias been tried with success.—Transcript. A great Roman lawyer being one day asked hat work might be done on a holy day, replied. That which ii' left undone, would occasion mis chief.” Pertinent Impertinence.—‘ Wlmi’s your pro. fussiott?’ said a lawyer, a day or two since in our criminal court, addressing a w i/tness whom he was cross questioning. ‘What is yours ?’ throw back tho witness, coolly and with emphnsis. ‘I nm a lawyer,’said the speaker. ‘Then you have studied Uladtslonc to llttla purpose, or you would not ask nte such a ques- lion.” ‘I merely asked you,’ continued tho lawyer, ‘be cause I have not the pletutu-n uf your .. njo.iin. tunce.’ ‘Well, I shall not tell voo,’ rctotried tlie witnc: ‘as I have no desire lo cultivate yours.’ A Dirty Witness.—During tho lat" trinls it. the Oxford Circuit, England, a German was brought fnrwnrd to testify. “ Witness, of what ago was tho defendant 1" asked the counsel. “ Dirty,” (thirty) was tlio reply. *• And pray,sir, are you his senior, and by. Iiutv many yenrs ?’’ “ Why, sir, I am dirty two !”—Picayune. Nicely Cavght.—'Come here, Sally, my love ;. now what does belt mean ? ‘Don’t know mnm.’ ‘Wlini—eh ! la * what ignorant children—Tako your finger out of your mouth there ; wcli—new Sally, wluit’s put round yom waist every day? Come now, look ut me, speuk out, psliuw, wlintaru you looking at so sheepish for 1—Tell me, now. •On, Mrs. Boozlo, I didn’t think you knotvod it.’ La ! whnt are you thinking about, child—come, t’other scholars are waiting. Answer me direct ly.’ What is put around yottr waist everyday?’ A-n.n l ahem it’s Joe Blokes* arm, main—hut lio hasn’t kissed me, only jest once.’ Flannel should be taken off at night, if one de sires to fee) the benefit ufit io the day. It dees not expose us to catching cold. 1 can add my testi- mony lo this. My practice is lo hang it up "perse” to air at night, inverting it for next day’s use. The Case in a Nutshell.—A very wealthy planter in Woodford county, Ky., says “1 hsd rather be taxed for the poor hoy s education than the poor man’s ignorance ; for one or the other 1 um cooi|H.'Ued to be.” A dressmaker in Broadwny lias procured n pa tent for a bustle of her invention ; it is made ot bran and a half a pint of yeust is mixed in to make it rise, sBys tlie Tattler. Distbess.—“These are hard limes, indeed,” aa the man suid when he was turned out of jail bc- causo Ids creditors could not pay his jail fees' That will du. An Outrage.—A man has been arrested ut New Orleans for robbing the grave ofn rich wld. ow, who wus buried ten years ago, with much vul. unble jcwcliy. He had taken one pair of dia mond earrings, several rings of d'nmonds, one gold necklace, several buckles, and seven largo dia- mends, not mounted. To Cook Dun-fish—or Cob fish salted.— A correspondent of tho American Farmer, gives tlio following recipe for cooking salted fish, whiclt he says was communicated to him by nn accom plished lady of Boston ;— Salt fish (meaning cod.fish,) should he put in a de- p plate, with just water enough tocover it, the night before you intend to cook it: take it from that water before cooking and wipe it cleuu. It should not bo boiled un instant; boiling ren ders it Imrd. It should bo in scalding hot water two or throe hours. Tlie less water is used, and tite more fish is cooked at once, the bettor. It may then be served up on a napkin and each one may tako his portion and mis fur himself with egga and butler, or it may be picked fine from the bone nnd mixed with Irish potatoes and butter. No dish is lighter or more digestible. A newly married lady, who was very fond t. her husband, notwithstanding tlie extreme ug ine- of Itis person, onee said to a friend, 'Whitt du you think ! my husband lias gone and luid out fifty guineas fur a large baboon on purpose to p ens" me!’ ’The deer little man !' cried the other, we t it is just like him.’

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Georgia journal. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1809-1847, February 28, 1843, Image 1