The Georgia journal. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1809-1847, April 11, 1843, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text'I'HE GEORGIA JOURNAL i> rvtiineHKn >m«t.r sv fE TEU«»i T tl UCAITi l‘UU TRIG run, , iT "I'iirBG dollars fer annum, in advance, ■Or FOll It Dollar : al the etui of the year. -.bserlrtl** »UI rxwrt'.etl fur leu thau it voar, nor will auv 2. diMMiftM'd '-rreoragt* arr pvxd willttot h# m'lfto itoy |M>rw»u out of thn fist#, until tin- I!!-ni»tisn inoa<*v i* |H»hWi» sdvsnco or .nii.’ictory rffarmc# fivon. kttVKllTUlWlfcM’8 sti* intprtod lit 1ft Wilts |»#r Miliar# for tli# . V.BMrtion.ssJ 50 c««l» D#» «tu*rr lor wh niMirtiou thsrusAur A thr Jaunt al U tU •*>» csof Uu lino. In .mall type, containing 8<X'» tif LANO» lij - Administrators, Kxecutors. or Gusr- . *V.’r# rr«i*r.'d. by list, to bo liH.t on tho ftr.t Tuesday in tbu •'tatwroa «■»« hoars of te t in the fbrmtoon ami tkroo la the al ttthaCourt-ho4.ru, t* tho county in which the property i* lr !.atZ' Nrttmof the## ulr nuii*t b# ifivrn In a public fiscue BIX- Zv lU Y* im-Mou. tcUi.- .lay of sale. 'ir ,,r VF.UROB8 auMt .*« at n public auction, on the fr.t Tur. i .aOthoftssth, h#t taro a 0*' n*«nl hour* of sal*, at the pWc »fpub- ; ;a,. in lit countv wiisiwJio letter. tctnni. nUry. of Adiniui.tra uaM fis*rdi*u.hi|H mayhnvo Imkmi irranted, flrot f iviiifr 8IXT1 WkV* roue* therrotiu oi»»of the public uaaait*sof this flair, and at Iwidlor of the Co»sfrhoB*a, w liero such *nlr.ar#to t» held. ,k isSrt*' the sal»of IV-mhi »l Property, mast bcgivcii in like man . Ti»r TV day* I»#evi«*u» to the day «»f Mile. "*Nsticc is the tb4*urs ami Creditors of au E.tstn must be publi.liod '^M^Ttoi.fappNcattna will be wade to the Court of Ordinary foi JS?srllL\*IK uniat hepuhli.hrd for FOUR MOMTIIH. W^ fhr lea/r to arttNBGIIOIM, must be published for POUIl >«Oh!rRS|lw(iiie<t>V absolute .bull be uiiulo tboroon by tb '^VlTiaalarss oftMalUnd continue, toreceiro prompt attention at tl t 0* , af the GEORGIA JOURNAL. litiUTTANClS NY MAIL—" A postmaster may euclose mont v u .inter to the potdi.ber of u new.pnper, to pay the subscription of n •thira perron, end tVmik tho letter, If written by bini-olf."— Amot Ac c .Ads P. w. a. -jejonepf'm Jiiruntal POETICAL. JWOVhV NOT IIK A BUTTERFLY Written w» hearing «1w* boautifu! nonjr, " I'd bo allutt-i By,”—addressed to my best friend. u Y I) it. K . MITCHELL, 1 woulj not b, n huttsiflv To ru.tn from How or to I1< To loro whnt every in,eel A hundred in nit hour. (Ji*o mi the mo.lo«t, ftenlle bml, TVnt sited* it.iweeln unknown, In nature's quiet testy bower,. For me, ami me alone. 1 wouM not t.e * butterfly, Ton .colt in flower, decay j A mootetiT. bii„, Olio J. H. STEELE & P. THWEATT, Editors. ipon to thy tight as iltc garrc-l, tho boudoir, tho clo«. it; look into it, and tell mo whnt you dl,cover. I hnvo a hurtling desire to know the workings of a huinnti heart, and I think with you, that in it, wc find a truer mirror of the manners of men, than in llte pigeon-wings of a burger of the Marcus, or un- dor tho indiscreet cachcmioru of on opera dancer." “Such being the case, morlal, yield mo a silent nttonlion, and look in a line with my crutch, into tho third story of that houto, where you see the four great window, hung with curtains of purplu and azure silk. Let your glttnco penetrate tho Veniti- an blinds ; there in nn elegant saloon, dimly illum ined by the flickering light of u taper, burnt nlinust to the socket of tho golden chandelier that supports it, flee you not a young man? His features are bountiful though pale. His hair which had been dressed by tho hand of nn artist, has boon enst into disorder by his own. His appearance is that of one in high rank. Every article of his dress, which is of tho newest style, Itns been cltnson by the nicely regulated bund of Fashion ; but us lie entered u- whilo since, ho threw his satin cravat upon an otto, man, and summoning Joseph, his valet, bade him close the apartments and retire. Tito vmet obey, ed. The young man seated himself, and remained resting his arm upon the porphyry table beside hint MILLEDGEVILLE, TU1£S1>AY, APRIL 11, 1843. VOL. XXXIV—NO-28. ns. ,r?T Khisll «•- Give me thr> hopn that she I love, ftlny linger long loeliare, TbmugB auutliter’s siniloum) wittier a frown, My y cure ol'joy and care. To make more irrh the scented breete, To brighten fortune’s ray, To Bol'ten sorrow’* roughest gnlo, And gild iny darkest day. To be in lile my tireless friend, The prompter of my faith. The loiid*stnr of my future hope, The lender stay in death. Oh who would be ft Bui lei Hy, To lose ejclr bliss as thou Hast shed for yearn on me and mine, As thou dost fluid it now! Whutcate we fur the wintry blight. Or breath of summer bowers. When trusting hearts, and faithful friends, And cloudless love are ours. THE LILY’S WIIIsrEK. BY LYDIA II. SiOOUHNYY. " Bow down lliy lieud.tlioii born of clay— Bow down tliv bead to me; A whispering lily seemed to say, As sank the lootcieps of the day Upon the grassy lea. Its dewy lip to mine I prest, » And drank its murmured nigh; A large, round tear lay in its brea.st, •• Hast Ihou ii wo to be coldest, Thou favorite of the sky 1” “Twobuds beside my heart awoke, More pure than opening day, But lo! a band with sudden stroke, These darlings from iny bosom broke. And bore them lienee away.” Then clearer seemed the lily'stone, Mv listening ear to meet; “ Think i.ot for sympathy uloue, Thus unto thee I make my uioun, Though sympathy isswoct. “No ! be my losa thy lesson made, We love’vnur fragile race, Whose lot it is, like us to lade, Like us to seo in diuknoss laid Vour blossoms* withered grace. " Yet lei the will Supreme be blest, And with a spirit meek, Shut close the tear-drop in your breast, And wear, as badge of lloaven'a sweet rest, Its smile upon thy check." Hartford, AW. 25, oil42. MISCELLANEOUS. “Lnvo followed up his victory, and soon their ntarriago was the tliome of conversation. Tito families uf both wore delighted, and encaarujtcd the wishes of the lovers. Emma’s consent was no ion. ger withheld through innocent nnd girlish fear. Ett- geno. dying with expectation, intoxicated with hope and thoughts of tho future, had heard from Iter lips the assurance of her love ; and the lovo of Emma was as pure as her thoughts, and as tendor as her gluncc. •‘Eugene,’she said,-if you hud nothing lo rec ommend you hut your amiable and cnptivatiug dis position, I should prefer you still to all others; but you are noble,and brnvc, nnd magnanimous—you are esteemed and admired. O! shall I not be proud, mv beloved Eugene, to bo called yours, lo bear your name, to sltnre vnur glory !” ‘Kneeling at the feel of Enmin, his eyes beaming wilhjoy, Eugene replied in the rapture of Ilia Heart— • ‘Then oil, all the rich treasure of your lovo is mine ! It will ever bo mine, for 1 will be worthy ot Emma.’ ‘Preparations for the bridal were ordered. ThelF happiness was about to be consummated.’ 'Asmodce! tho hand progresses faster titan your r .... story. You are only speaking of love ; judging end supporting Itis brow upon Itis hand, it was mid. | by tiic catastrophe, you should hnvo much to tell? night. Since then, one, littIf-past one, two, and ‘Murtui, I have counted tho minutes. You see lialf.past two, have rung upon the clock of gold and that young man is still motionless.’ alabaster, representing lime disarmed by Love yet he lias not heard it, or altered his position, llis breast is not moved by a sigh ; he sheds not a tear. But look upon the ebon marble uf yon bronzo con. Hole, towards which his eyes are constantly wander- •One evening—it was in the month of Novem ber’— ‘Lust November ?’ 'Perhaps so.—Eugene was dining with Emma’s father. His sent was beside Iters, After a deli- jug. Seo you not near tho ugato stand which sup- cious dinner, they lingered over the dessert while ports, under a crystal globe, a group of young i the conclt was being prepared lo convey them to nymphs, wrought stucco—two pistols ? They are tho opera, conversing with warmth upon llte topic specimens of tile most beautiful workmanship. The | of the day. It was u duel; llte ridiculous nnd de- burrels arc damasked ill gold, and llte stocks ' ploruhlo history of which wits known to all l’uris. carved to imitate the richest luce.work. When I A young coxcomb, heuted with wine, had insulted n three o'clock shall hnvo sounded, the hotel will be ' respectable citizen. This in a word, was the sub. shaken by a deadly explosion, and that young man ' stance of the uHiur. Tito difficulty originated at willhnve ceased to live.” j tho Theatre, respecting a seat about which there •‘Great God ! in half un hour? tho reason ? is it gaming? ’ “No!” “Debt ?” “He owes nothing.” "It is love ?” “Not so." “And whnt then ?” “The point of honor.” “Indeed ! explain.” “You shull have tho story. Into it before the fatal hour. I have time to re But to becertuin, I was some mistake. Tbe young upstart, whose sight wos confused by tho champagne he had been drinking, was a frequenter of the fencing rooms, au habitual quarreller and braggart. 'This insult imv. ittg been given in public, tho satisfaction required must bu equally public, ami the respectable citizen and mail of honor fell beneath tho superior swords manship of tho despicable instigator of the quarrel. His inciancliolycnd wus ageneral theme ofconversa. lion. By sumo lie was pitied, by others censured for having stulted an honorable life against that of a person unknown. Ho wus extolled for having .Win far .a”] Translated from tlio French of Victor Ducatige. UY ▲ NEW CONTRIBUTOR. “To the task, limning Asmodce, my demo! i I friend! to tho tank! Tho cry is for reform, anc I lltw alumt is prolonged. *Tia the fushiunublc cry , land well you know that with us, Fashion is a inn • 1 nil—a tyrant. She never calls, but hor summon! j Iu obeyed. Exhibit to us then, a picture of moral • lily. Unfold \o us yr.ur morals, and describe to m * lour own. To liio task, demon ,* tlio cull is add res- • I sed lo you, who fo powerfully seconded Lisugo . ■Courage, proceed ! Grasp thy crutch ; scale liu « II oofs; behold* hat hotel, uml say what is passing: I'viiliiii its walla.” 4 Morlal ! there is heard the angry din of poli • s ” “L“uvcil,leavo it,demon; we have enough o f Illicit) in uscoie of daily journals. Let us hence . Cast thine urgus glance upon yon cight-storiod pile , l*itli the ten stores and ihrco vast portals.” “It is an epitome of Paris, with tho indwcllcri classified us were those in Noah's ark ; shopkeep ers, merchants, bankers, dunseuses, marchioness, llawyer, doctor, pensioners, artists, griseltes—at'. |bcnei»th the same roof.” 'God be praised ! but here’s a harvest of moral- iy! Whnt variety in tunc,character nnd shade ! In hat richness of contrast! What a field to choose Ifrom \ To the lusk then, fiend ; Vis only a little ample of tlio morn Is of Paris.” 4 Alack und uweil.u-day inoitul! Il is as you snv ; i field worthy the talent of the (liable boiteux. But liiidei’d suiting aside ihu creatures who figure upoc Vour Boulevards, 1 should seek as vainly be. euth the innumerable roofs, ns in yon azure vault, mailer or the subjects for another comic gallu ky of original sketches, snuirbox pictures, nnd gro. |t-‘squc figures, of which we once made so funcifu i portfolio. The world is no longer the s iino ; it i no longer peopled by tho same race ! If you ob. krve closely you will find the line of deinarkation Jfetween your shopkeepers und tho denizens I'f your saloons, fur less plainly do lined than ^ou would wish it to appear. Tho present finds mmi all citizens, and judging from the universality Ktlie impression, it is evident llmt the ago hue h«t you all in tho same mould. Look abrotul, unci |ou will sec uniformity of upparel, tastes, interests. I'usiucHi—I do not say of opinion ; it is the only rung in which you differ ; in all other respects I'i^hly marks the era. What distinguishes the ['anker from the artisan, ihe courtier from the shop °|>er? 'Tis merit, and tho same tissues of Lon. | ability, you will understand no better. There was —there still is—but wo may us well use the past, (which your grammarians cull preterit.) fur in half to sny that it is pronounced in the world with res. peel, and that it is spjken with cclnt in more than ono brilliant saloon. If 1 am less discreet concern, ing the charms of her person—can she blame me 1 You will perhaps recognize hor. Eighteen sum mers hud beautified hor with tho loveliest charms of youth. The dulicnte freshness of tho rose glowed in her cheek ; hor dazzling and jetty hair surmoun ted a forehead puicr and fairer than tho lily ; un uzuro beautiful us that ofhoaven beamed from bo- nealh her long und dark eye-luslies ; her Finite wus the very inspiration of love ; and how shall 1 des cribe lo you tho beauty of her neck, the symmetry of her form, tho whiteness of her hands, yea, all the perfection of her charms ? Picture to yourself the most beautiful of maidens ; animate her charm ing person with a mind delicate and refined ; add to ail these attractions n tender heart, un exquisite sensibility ; and a hundred thousand for a marriage portion ! Such was the young Emma when she was seen, admired, av, adored in the saloons. ••The most brilliant proposals were made for her hand ; young men tlio most distinguished for wealth nobility and station, contested the honor of placing at her feet the homage of their hearts, tho ofier of their fortunes und titles ; and the vows, as they us. mired her, of a constant love. There was scarce- ly a scion of a noble house in all the land, who Imd not yielded to the magic of her charms. Tho most fastidious taste might have been gratified. There were those who were handsome, young, amiable, noble, brilliant—from the financier to tho peer of the realm ; from tlio moualuchoed hero of July, to the sporting viscount. Every rank was ul her feet under the levelling influence of Love, imploring the bonds llymen. “If boautifui, adored, elated by the incense of homage, Emma had exhibited a slight degree ot coquetry; if by the artless gayety of bei wit site had distracied a thousoud hearts, sacrificed in mo- munis of pleasure, a thousand victims—who could blame her 1 Such is tho right of a lovely girl! Emma, then, if proud and unprincipled, might have churned a thousand slaves to her car. Bui she did not. Scarcely flattered by so many attentions ; will keep my eye on the hand of tho dial. Mortal ! sought, like a brave man, the satisfaction due to his il i, a tingular specimen of your morals and ns | wounded honor, nnd passing irom the fact to prin. whimsical as il is inexplicable ; but of this you may | c j|,i e involved, the duello was alternately attacked, judge for yoursulf. This young man is ubout to I sustained, justified and condemned in the most live, perish, for not having understood what, ill nil pro'o. j |y ma „ nori (,y t i, 0 equally strong and inflexible ar. ” " "~ A ' ' ’ * I * * 4 ’ 1 guments of religion, prejudice, philosophy and code of honor. Emma’s lovor, curried away by the warm susceptibility ofhis ago und a generous heart an hour this narrative will have become a matter of I naturally sustained the cruel necessity of the prac- history. There was then a young lady of beauty tice in a|mos , every 0 ase. Her father, a dispas, rarely equalled. Iler name was Linma. i he j sionutc, stern logician, nnd unchangnble in his a of her family I will not disclose ; ilisonough I p^dnlcs, ranked it in the catalogue of crimes. '* 1 *“ “ Emma, mild, sensible, and like any young girl in love, ami seated beside Iter lover, shuddering at tho thought of murder and bloodshed, sustained the opinions of Iter father, but repnid tlio eloquence of Eugone with a tender smile. The discussion was lively und animated, and reprosuntod perfectly, and in a striking manner,the uncertainty of our opin. ions and moruis upon this delicato subject, which so nearly concerns the most scnsiiivo part of honur. “No, sir,’ said Emma’s father in a tone of au- thority, after having exhausted the most substantial arguments ; ‘no, the worthy inun, tho father of a family, or the citizen whose lilb belongs to tile stale should nut grunt to tho first upsturl who shuns him disrespect, the absurd und utruciuus privilege uf justi lying tho insult by inurdct.’ 1 ‘But,’ replied Eugene, ‘a gentleman could nev. ur sutler himself to bo hruw-beateu and bear in si. lencc the stigma of tbe outrage.’ ‘ ‘Be so good, young man, as to say whero you place tlio point uf honur. in a duel ? You would irnrdly dure to say so ; the confession would mako you blush. Ait! thunk heaven, and tbe progress ot human intelligence, r.ason, slowly, but at length triumphantly, has bnnislieil from our ethics this de plorable relic of a barburnus and nnli.sucinl custom which sprung up among our ancestors duriug tho ig norance of the middle ages, when might usurped the place of law and justice. Then, the divine judg. tnent was manifested in vour duello ; then right was ever found on the sidu of power, nnd this ines timable privilege of the spoiler, this miscalled jus. ticc of God, appertained lo him who wielded the best tempered sword, to tbe strongest arm, or to tbe most dexterous bully, be bu a traitor, a felon, a perjurer, or stained with crimes and murders tlio most atrocious. With the strong arm and the skill* fui remained, whnt you are pleased lo call, honor. Such, young man, such was tho origin of your duel, which for so long a limo was surrounded with 1 know not what illusion uf bravery ! Tbe Romans, who possessed no mean conceptions of glory and courage, were ignorant of this species ol combat. Tlte reflecting, logical Englishman of this day con temns, though not through cowardice, the practice. retiring though the ccntro of a brilliant circle, Em- ; 'p|, u ll u „,j a n, 8 [j|| in slavery, and cringing beneath tna was discreet, but not insensible ; litis bad been knout,adhere# toil devotedly ; but in Trance, a fault—she was faultless ! Sucli a girl Js seldom | I'^jgene, jn Trance, according as liberty enlarges seon—indeed site was almost a prodigy !" “But are you quite sure, Asmudcc, that site be. longed to this age ?" “Mortal, you thcro behold Itor lover !” “The young man who is about In shoot himself?” "Tho hand advanres—mortal do not interrupt me. in saying that Emma's mind was ns delicato as Iter charms, as perfect as Iter beauty, I could not liuve intimated moro clearly that she possessed u heart capable of loving. Well, then, one evening that young heart throbbed ; it was the first time! her pretty lips withheld a sigli tlmt rose within her bosom, and timid and confused she cast down her beautiful eyes which, until then, Imd beamed with so much gnycly. During tbe tumult of a concert, amid .lie giure of lights and tlio commotion of tlte assembly, a now acquaintance of tier father enter, cd tbe saloon, and every cyo was bent upon him ; our minds ; according as tlte light of science shines upon our downing reason, and tho luvu of country assigns to honor a proper place, the duel, marked with contempt, is banished from among our purified and regenerated morals. The point of honor is no longer decided by single combat. The courage of llte citizen is dlspluyed at tlte tribunal uf justice ; oil tlio Grcvo before the bayonets of despotism ; and at tlio first call of llte drum, beneath the na tional flag ; here all may find a place, and it is here only that one can merit to be culled brave ; but in a duel, Eugene, life may be lost, but honur will ne ver be ihu reward!’ ‘ ‘And if one refuses to fight, llte scorn, the Idush of sliamo, the name of coward ! could tlicsu bo borne ? Emma, you could not think so !’ ‘•Eugene ! All tho inlniny rests with the instiga. tor. A duel! Imw horrible ! Tor a word, n look. j'i and Thibet; by the Inw of equality of beauty wept, thinking tlmt she liud then forever lost he “J grace, plueo upon tlio same looting the tluch- empire. Never Imd she appeared more bcauiifui I'd grace, place upon tlio same looting ktha grisulte, tlio notary’s daughter, and the wife I] tiie laborer. Thirty revolutions,—for which V'd be praised !—have brought you so often in ntoct with each other, that you have at length trued tlmt you are made of ihu same inulcrial; l"d all die oid trumpery of superior birth and pml lias been given to the winds.” “Astnodee, 1 feel tiie force of thy remarks. Our pinners are nn longer olue.rvuble in our upparel, Ittinour reul and every-day life." I "Mortal, you linve anticipated me: To discov. ftthciii, tiie sight most penctruto beyond the sur To catch the flitting shudes. you must use ' pencil more delicato than that which touclns the Fiitruss, nnd leaves only furrowed lines* It is not Idricieut to lift the veil, and discover ono of tiie **crets of lif« ; your search must extend to the " Thcro tlio morals of men have their Imbi. plion." every maiden's glance, except Emma’s, was direct-| , .. , , , ed to him. She was solicited to sing, and all Were | >"«».lreqw.Mly a nothing to hasten ,o one s dcs. attentive ; tier voice wa, exquisitely".weet! Bu. lr,,c, . lo,,! b ' ie “ ,0 ‘ tlko 1,1 B ratll >’ l "'i • momentary poor Emma ! alio missed .lie lime, and her voice 10 ‘ ur 1 ^'* 1 ' , *•} an l '* londj r ‘* became almost stifled. The rose.tint in her chock " cn,,c0 1 10 “ faUe P°**‘ 11 ll0 .n° r -'“° n «* "ell.loio il and almost lus no ” n,1 J> morc —t»c destiny ol n family, ine heart of a mother* the existence of a wile—yes, her existence ! Ah! Eugene, my father is right ; the Jiicilist ij a monster* egotistical and ungrateful ! If usnumed a deeper glow. JS:ie trembled ‘'Well, then, my demon friend, if the heart is as l worthy of Emma •mpiro. Cupid had at length pierced her heart, unJ the glance of Eugene w as his arrow.” “Asmodec, old boy ! that arrow twangs discor dantly on mine ear. Tiie ineiuphor is in a style too classical for these times !” ''Mortal, 1 am nn old demon , let me tell my Mo- ry in my own way ; ’iwu* a recollection of the old school,” “Among nil the rivals who sought tho lovo of Emma, none deserved it hotter than Eugene ; and for one, l»y accident pci haps, pci imps by design, hut contrary to all custom, Love und Ueuson went hand in hand. They were gifted alike with beauty und magnanimity ; both exhibited the same dciicu- cy of mind, of sentiment, of taste und of character. Tlioir rook nnd fortunes were equal; the coinci- dunce wits complete, and the envious and jealous were forced to confess tlmt Emnm alone was de serving ot Eugene, und that Eugene alone was he falls, shame is his portion ; if he triumphs, bow is lie looked upon in society ? Alt! for shame—x duellist/ Hu is n vulgar person, und excluded from e\cry cirgle. Only think! Eugene, only think! a duellist is a mons'er w hose hands are stained with blood ! people avoid him—he is shunned ; no one receives him, the saloons are all closed to him ; he is a ruined man !' “Burned ?—But suppose the unfortunate person be insulted and outraged by the vilest of men. If lie refuses to fight even such n man, what will be public opinion ? Wlmr will bo said in your saloon*? What nn equivocal eulogy will he not read in every smile ? Where the friend to receive him with out- j-tretchcd hands ? What woman would dare lo love him ? Emma ! tell mo this !* •Whnt was Emma about to reply ?—Her heart tlimbhi d—tlio deep tint of the ro>e sutfitsed her cheeks, and her look !—but a valet uuuouuccd liu t tho' conch was ready and they rose from tlio table.’ '. \smodoe ! ’tis a pity—for 1 should like to ko< >w.* * Allow me to proceed, mortal;—tho broctst of the yo-jng man Ims just boon torn by a sigli, and the mi nuto bund his already traversed three-fourths of tb e (li»*I. •They rose. Tlio father of the young lady still r Mainea upon his features slight traces of the se. \ erity with which ho supposed be hud treated llte l ala) prejudices for tho point of honor involving the c'ucl. Eugene experienced some restraint nnd dis- c omfort; he had not been ablo, even through res. p ect, to pretend toacquiese in the opinion of the old * tun ; he could have chided his beautiful and dear I imma. Wus it possible that fertile first time tl teirhearts were found disunited! It was with a slight degree of irruscibiiity tlmt lie otic red her his h tnd. Emma, on tho contrary, was radiant with si piles ; there was in her mannor an inexpressible cl tarm of lender pride mingled with an enchanting r< iguishness; and the moment her hand touched hi )r lover’s she pressed it warmly. Whutdidshe w ish to imply 7 And what prevented him from un. di trslanding ? •They sot out, and soon arrived at tlio temple of th e muses. A smile was still upon Emma’s lips, m id hor liund was in Eugene's when tho carriage ior wus opened. •The new opera which they were going to seo hi -d the merit of being fusliionahlc. It w asconse. ently the rage. All Paris flocked to it; the con urse was immense. Our party having u box, cc uld wait till the crowd had entered ; but the cur- in being ubout to rise, Emma expressed impu- mco ut the delay ; ’tis natural nt her ago to do , and besides, people seldom like to see others issiug before them. They entered tho throng, E ugene protecting Emnm , but il is never a pluce fo r a beautiful woman The ailention of tiie lover lo the lady loved is ever assiduous ; in this instance th e whirl of tlte crowd had already borne them to th e loot of llte stairs, and tho freshness of the young lu dy's toilet had not suffered the slightest derange ent ; but suddenly Emma, who hung on the arm of her guide, uttered u cry, and clinging in terror to him, site suifered to pass two young men, arm in ar m, laughing,elbowing their wny, and who, from th e ridiculously fashionable utiire, their turbulent bt aring, their tnouslac/ies dc Cossagne, and their rt ckless lunguage, it was easy to discern were of tli at class who arc habitually impertinent ; fash, to nable in suspected places, and whose effrontery ai id auduciiy are only welcomed in the society w here they themselves are tho heroes. The feu- tu res of Eugene in u moment became livid with ri .ge. •‘ ‘What is the matter, Emma 7’ were the firs', w ords he could uriiculuto. But with a glance he It; id singled out the two coxcombs, and bis breust In saved with resentment. Emma saw in a moment h jr indiscretion, and sutd to him in nn undertone, w hile endeavoring to withdraw him from tho 8| »ot : “•’Two* nothing! nothing, Eugene; uufor- tu .nately, without intending it, sonic one. whom 1 di d not see, slept upon my loot.' *“It was one of those two men f 9 “ ‘No- -oh no ! twus not, indeed.” •“And he made no excuse for Ills insolence in ct ’owding past you !’ •‘ ‘Oil! for my sake, Eugene ! stop—be silent !’ “All, peritaps, would have ended here. Eugene ei tdeavored to be calm ; Emma, pale ns death, di *ew him from tho crowd, while at tho same time si ic sought her father, who had been detained at th o distance of a few steps; they had been so- p; irated, and lost sight of each other. At this mo. nr ent, ono of the two young men carrying his im- pi adcnce to extremity, returned laughing, und guz- in g at Emma, us ho was accustomed to gaze at c< utaiu women worthy the homage, lie said to his fr tend, or rutlier to his companion : “‘By my faith, isn’t site pretty? wliut divine e; res she bus, my dear fellow ! But I'll wager still tl .at Adele is prettier.' “This insolent lunguage was so loud, that muny p arsons turned tu listen. Emma’s cheeks, he ll ue blanched, were now crimsoned. For a mo n tent she saw nothing, nnd when the mist which h ad so suddenly obscured iter sight was gone, she f >und herself, without knowing how the change h ad taken place, in the arms of her father, und 1 .ugene and the two young men had disappear- e d.” 'Asmodce, 1 am in agony ; you huvo only se- v en minutes more to speak, and the opera will con- s time at least three hours.” “Mortal, we are not obliged to hear it!” “When Kminn returned to consciousness, many o f the bystanders wuoha l witnessed tho disorder ly f cene, had dispersed, especially the male portion. £ leveralof the women still gazed at Emma. But \ ne first notes of the orchestra sounded ; tho mu- s ic was by llossini, and the opera-house trembled w »itli the peal of twenty trumpets. The piece wus a pastrul. Those of the throng who still remained, lb rgelliug t ie young lady, hastened to ascend the steps. Emma, supported on tho annul’ Iter fa- ti ter, followed ; she wus no longer conscious of w hat she did ; her heart thiobbed, her knees tr emblcd beneath her ; her tongue seemed to cl euve to the roof of her mouth; u terrible con- fo sion filled tier mind, and a strange noi*c, which pi‘evented ull thought, rung in her ears. She how. e\ r er ascended the steps, sustained by her fulher. w hose furrowed brow was also pule. They nt tu ined the lobby, nnd were conducted to their box. b* it the moment Emma was entering, without be- in g able to utter gu syllable, she fuioted. Al the sr .me instant, Eugene, with a countenance culm a ad serene, rejoined them. Hu returned just in ti me to bear Emma in his units to the coach. Hup- pi iy,ut this time, the lobbies and stuirs were emp ty, and tiie curtain rising at (lie same moment, n one hut the o like is of tho house saw the young lady borne away.” ‘“Look, it is site,'they whispered,as the party pass cd from the house. They returned in husie t • her lather’s hotel. What uu event! and liow public, for a young girl! But in l’ui is every thing is fleet ing, disappears und is forgotten ; there are so muny occurrences.” ‘•At length, what took place beneath the peristyle of the opera-house ?” “Mortal, you may easily divine.” •’ll was tn vain that Eugene, calm, sportful an I laughing, had recourse to all tlio arts of love, a ) tlio quibbling which a brave man may use to paci fy his bet rot ned and reconcile her father. Be dewed with tear*, with a look full of four and love, Emma scare noil inquiringly into the eyes of Eu gene, und hke mistrusted the smile that made her weep ; *1 have been insulted,’ though she; 'lie loves mo, lie is bruve, and w ill bo revenged. Alas! ®m 1 not miserable V Her father, in silence nnd *adness, uUo followed liio young man, with nil in quiring iook, nnd notwithstanding ail Eugene's pre sence ol mind, the experience of the old man made him doubt, lor once, the sincerity ol’liis daughter's lover. The latter, however, protested nt the feet of Emma that the insult which she had sutfrred had been followed by an apology* Emma made him repeal il u hundred times, and yet it did not bring joy to hor heart, and the old man listened without being convinced. "It struck eleven ; Eugene rose to depart, nnd a ray of hope, for a moment lighted up tho couaten* ■nee of liis betrothed. Even her fattier seemed to have regained confidence, when u servant ca tering, placed in his hand n nolo, which a stranger had ju»i left m tbe hotel. Emuta shuddered ; Eugene was going. But already the old man was reading the letter. ” 'Remain !’ be cried ; and Emma fell bock in Iter seat, pale, trembling, but still clasping the hand of Eugene. “•He hns deceived us!* said Iter father, press- ing sorrowfully his brow. “ 'Ho is going to fight! Alas! I knew well it would bo so !' said Emma, whose lips were as |j. vid ns though sho were In the death struggle. “•You have boon insulted.’ said Eugene at length, with oil the energy of a just indignation: ‘Yes ! insulted publicly, nt my side, and in tho presence of your father ! Emma! Emma! could you love u man destitute of love, of courage aud of honor?* “Emma would have replied, but she could only find utterance in a sigh. “Her lather, who had just flushed the letter, had been listening; ho resumed in a serious tone :— “ 'To-morrow morning, sir, at seven o’clock, you have a mcetlhg in tho forest of Romainville, with the two young coxcombs whom you havo on ly too much honored this evening by noticing their impertineitco. Viscount O. und M. do St. M. aro lobe your friends,and the weapons ure to be cho sen on tho ground. You see. thunk heaven, 1 have been informed in timo. Is the information true ?' “•It is sir: I should be unworthy of you, of Emma'— '“Stop ! wo will not recommence a useless dis cussion ; 1 do nut presume to usk what is be your course. I know your prejudices and your opinion npoit tho point of honor ; you aro nware of my principles und my conviction upon tho same sub. ject. Wo diflbr; but listen sir: I havo my rights and you have yours; you arc at liberty to the point of honor where you please—I, whero I think proper ; you may dispose of your life—I have still tho dis- posal of my daughter's hand. \ou have determin ed on fighting a duel, and I have decided that I will not havo for a son-in-law a man who is ready to risk his life against that of the first upstart, und who would stuke his honor upon tho thrust of a sword, as a gmnoster stakes his gold upon a throw of the dice. It is not such a husband 4 that 1 will provide fur my daughter.’ “ ‘Sir ! in tiie name of heaven ! I am dishonored if'— “ ‘No, sir ! Neither would I huvo a dishonored son-in-law. Abundon this duel, und Emma is yours. Can I esteem you more, and prove it to you bet- tor ?’ “ 'You—no, sir; but the public.* •“Eugene ! you are free lo do us you please. 1 am a lather. You have your code of honor—l ulso liuve mine. Look upon my daughter! put her tours, her ullliction, into the scale with your- self-love. Look, inlutuated man! The sight should be sufficient if you lovo her. For my purl, 1 havo but one more word to say ; withdraw from this duel, or forfeit Emma ; you havo 4 iho choice.’ “As the old man pronounced these words, ho drew his daughter’s arm within his own, and wus leading her from the room. “ •Emma !* cried Eugene, *do you, too, condemn ntc V “Emma withdrew her arm from her futhor's, returned and placed her hand in Eugene’s. Not withstanding her paleness, her tears und agitation, a smile lit up her features ; and how eloquent was that smile ! It wus ns proud und tender us that of the young Greek girl placing tho helmet on tlio brow ol her lover. “ 'Eugeno ! Eugene !' sho said, holding, his hand und gazing upon him, and while she hell it nnd contemplated him,her eyes brightened, and the glow wus re kindled in her cheek. But a secret power scaled her lips ; n terrible thought dispelled the returning hue; her eloquent eyes becumo dimmed, her head dropped, Iter hand no longer dared to clasp hor lover's, and in a timid and tiera* bliug voice she suid : 'Eugene, obey my fulher— I ulso forbid you to fight.’ Tho next moment she was beside her fulher, und they both left tho sa. loon. ••Eugene stood confounded, without motion im- moveable us if stricken by a thundorbolt ; or us if his feet bud taken root toj the spot where Emma hud left him. lie murmured only these words, and they seemed to fall upon his heart like drops of molten lead :— “'Lose Emma! forfeit Emma ! renounce] Em ma !’ A torment un Internal struggle, nn inex pressible agony confused his thoughts. His only choice was between dishonor and the loss of Em ma ! Tne remuiitoer of the night wus horrible to him in the extreme. “Now then ! young man, put your hand upon your heart and say, what you would havo done in such a situation !” ‘•Do you think the oid man was sincere, anJ would have kept his word 7” "\«’s ; Eugene Imd but the choice, and he knew it well.” “Tho cuse, my demon friend, was indeed a deli cate one ; and 1 begin to forosco—but go on, bo quick, for liio fatal moment draws nigh.” ‘•At seven in ihe morning. Emma’s father was waited upon by Viscount O. and M. do St. M., who informed hirn politely, but in a cold and reserved manner, that the meeting had not taken place. “At noon, Eugene made his appearance ul the hotel. Tiie old man extended Ins hand and recetv- ed him with tho wurnicst cordiality. “The bcuuliful features of Emma still retained traces of Iasi night’s affliction. Eugene approach- e J her timidly. She blushed. “The sumo evening there was an assembly.— When Eugene nppeured. the young ladies smiled —Emma wus confused. Not one of tho young gentleman advanced to welcome the future bus. band ol tho quocn of the saloon : Eugene remain ed uione isolated. Whispering and merriment wore heard behind fans and arm-chairs: Was lie the object of it? Emma did not rise from the piano during tho evening ; the music.stand cnnceuled her countenance ; sho did not raise her eyes. She no longer felt the pride and glory of one betroth ed ! “Two days afterward*, ot a bull, were again seen throngs of QFpirants for llte hand of Emma, whom Eugene had supplunted ; again tlio young dancers, gloved in white, bowed before her.— Eugene, nevertheless, had still a right to claim her hand for the first contredanse. Alas ! scarcely had Uo conducted Emma to her place in the milt* of the d iucers, resplendent with youth and orna ment, and cag* r for the giddy maze, when the op. pobite couplo disappeared, and none would have be en found lo figure before Emmu und her cavalier, hud it not been for the unexpected accession of n very young giri und a student. It was perhaps an accidental occurence, but to Emma, every thing seemed u piercing shaft, a taunting *arcu*in, a cruel derision. The wunton gayety of tho bnll. the unmeaning laugh which the young iiiterciiange, the thoughtless sullies whilst crossing in the dunce, were, to the rustless, attentive, afflicted Kmrnn, murmurs full of irony. Eugene was tlio object ofit ; tlw only sound thut met Iter ears was the buzzing of li s name ; on every sidu nIiu beheld derisive smiles ! Her feors nt length becamo realities, und the embarrassed manner of Eogerio added to her affliction. He was humbled; she wus miscrnblo ! Emma was retained f ;r all the other tmts. As to Eugene ! he danced no more, the Isdic* were al! engaged. “The next day, when he called at the hotel, Em- mu was unwell. •'The day after—sho had a hnndnchc. “The following day—she wuu vivitiug. “The fourth day—she could not receive vi*{- tors. "The fifth—Emma bad set out for the eoun. try”— “A.modee, tho hand ha* reached the .uimnit of the di.l,” “Mortal, 1 am well aware of it! Tho unhappy man begin, to feel that in yielding to love the point of honor, ho ha, lost Emma. Ho i. proud, nenaitiva. noble ; and he know, that love and ho nor onoe let, ore irrecoverable—Look,, the limtr ha. cone !" “Tbe dock .truck- I wa. turning to look, hot a midden terror chilled my heart, congealed my blood; and 1 involuntarily closed my eyes: the clock wa. .till atriking. “‘A.modee !’I cried,‘in mercy, restrain tint young man !’—but 1 h.d not uttered the last won), when an explosion shook the hotel, 1 buried my face in my hands, dronding to look upon the horitd spectnclo. A burst of laughter from Asmo-h o, aroused ; he touched mo with his staff, when sud denly nil disappeared, and wu were far from the fatal spot.”' “Now, then ! mortal,said tho’cripple “what is your opinion nbout duelling ? Should the young man havo fought ?” ‘•Certainly ho should, without n doubt!” “Agree with you. Then, strictly speaking, tho father of the young lady did wrong lo prevent him ?” “Not at all ; ho acted' wisely. Duelling is a curse, shameful and lioniblo ! It is an immoral pruciico, and might woll bo ranked in the catalogue of crimes!” * 1 agree with you again ; nnd now, every thing con‘s»d.»d, what U your opinion ?’’ “My opinion ?” “Ye#, what is your conclusion ?” “Well, by my faith—I don’t know. But your’s, demon ?** “Like you, mortal; I do not know ; nnd such is the case very frequently in this enlightened age; our opinions upon most mattersorigmatu honestly, but our action upon these same matters is very frequently iniquitous.” “Do you think so ?” “1 s|H‘ok truly.” “In that case; the age is indeed enlightened !” Gardrnino.—Gardening time is upon us. Ami why should not farmurs havo us good gardens as villagers ? We always expect when we see a laryo enclosure attached to a village residence that a Wi:!l cultivated garden will be found within il; and why should we not expect the same on every farm I There is uo good reason why. But sadly dilfcrem, in muny instuuucs is tho case! You seo often tlio lurge farm and the small farm well cultivated- und the gurden almost entirely neglected, is the latter of less importance in its place litit-i the for mer I By no means. Do the former and his futil ity relish the products and fruits uf the garden less titan others, when they havo them ? Not nt ail. Then why this neglect ? It proceeds entirely front a mistaken estimate of horticulture. Tlte products of tlte garden are deemed of little moment, and those of llte farm every thing. All hands are bur- ried und driven day after day on the farm, and the garden, which perhaps has only a wretched lilt e bed or two, is niton permitted to go to weeds, un less cultivated by the pour women, who generally liud tlioir lutntls full with tli.ir children aud domes, tic labors. Novor wus there a greater blunder than this in the cultivation.of the earth. Tin to is nothing furnishai a richer amount of health! u! und delightful sustenance to a family than a good vegetable garden. Indeed, some families with very small garden spots, who carefully cultivate thorn, roccivo from them their chief support. Co into their dwellings when their tallies uro set and you may seo a profuse display of vegetables; nnd perhaps on entering tho house of a neighboring far. tiler about tho same lime of day, and though there ho un ubuudut.ee of nteut aud bread, the display uf vegetables will he leun und stinted. A little judicious expenditure uf time would un. lirely correct this incongruity, and furnish to every farmer a rich und delightful table of vegetables through the year. In tho first place he must havo llis little gurden spot fenced oil’ with rails, if he is not jot ultle lodo it with pickets, it must he a separate enclosure from ihu rust of the farm, ami kept so faithfully, ilo must appropriate a day to ploughing und preparing and sowing Ins earliest, bods—uu maltor wliut tho hurry of business. Alter those arc done well, as the season advances, anti tho limo arrives forputtiug in the later vegetables, if bu cannot spare time iu the morning, lei the team stop in tho course of the day, nnd let them ho well finished ulso, und tho business is dune until weed ing time. When this comes, tut hour in the morn ing curly for two or three mornings iu a wuek i't.r u very few weeks, will keep tho boils perfectly clean, until the vegetables are lit for the table, and then wliut will he presented?—ono of tho finest spots on the whole farm—-a luxuriant garden, limn whence a rich and healthful treat may he gathered —rendering coinpurulivoly but little ntiiinul food necessary, aud furnishing decidedly the most ecu- mimical as well as pleasant living fur a family. Tu tliusu farmers who have boon in the habit of getting along for years with a dwarfish bulf.culli- vutud bud or two for a garden, wo say try tbe re. commendation bore given for one season, and we are sure you never need be urged to it again—I r lite advantages will Is: so sensibly loll, tlmt of Ic* two, the work of tho farm will be rather suspended fur a day, or a part of the day. if necessary, than the garden should nut be seasonably and thor oughly attended to. A spot on tho north side of the garden inav In- advantageously kept as a temporary nursery fi r choice fruit trees, (such as cherries, plums, ainl pears,) as they inav he obtained Irotn time to tin from neighbors und acquaintances, tinti! pcrmnia . ' places may bu selected for liteir future localitm. Having paid u good dual of attention to Ireesat tt'-riculturc, wa write from obsetvalion and ex- periunce.—llaptiil Ue^mlcr. The 1’aradisi: ok Content.—The rosy Itori. z jii bevond which you cannot seo—tlte gray rain, bow winch overarches fancy's lund.-cupu—the hat that genius spreads urouttd tint barren pathways i.l existence—tbe green and fairy ring encircling ever tlte beloved—what lire they in liteir glory anil their gladness, to the fireside glow ul u coiilcnled spirit—to the smile thut is no mockery of bitter ness within—to the laugh that springs not up from the restlessness of a hidden woe? Beautiful ns an island on the white heaving ocean lo the sea weary voyager—welcomons tho fiaintuins, with i:s few waving palms arid its verdant brim to the desert pilgrim’s itching eye. is the l’aradisu of Content! which a happy few tnay make for them, selves in Ihu wilderness of a desolate world. Suns roll swiftly onward above their bit-st abode, lint nn feverish eagerness nn heart.sick dread, would bur- rv ur delay their course.—Sorrows, and cares, at, I privations minglo in their social circle, hut have mi power upon the ndumuutine chain which brightly binds them lo some far oil* sphere of bliss.—Alrr. I'.. I’. Ultle. Beautiful Sentiment.—Jean I’.tul Richter, ia his -• Death of un Angel,” has tlio following senti ment, which itas often been translated, but no*, t •:- act ly iu these words. Uu says, - man is bight.- than his placet he looks upward nnd uncloses th wings of his soul; and when llte sixty minute:, which wo call sixty years, have finished striking, he risusnud kindles, while he mounts, and lie ashes of his plumage full hack, and the unveiled soul urises alone, without earth, uml as pure ns a strain un high.” A Tear.—How much is expressed by a single lour !—When dropped over sorrow and distress, it is moro eloquent timii words. It tolls of sympa thising fuelings aud a kind heart. I' is a living sentence, springing from tho alfections without guile or dissimulation—reaching to the soul of the sail and alllioted.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Georgia journal. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1809-1847, April 11, 1843, Image 1