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PR_Tlli«Mi.aoauM*f aa ll dnaa.oaa lianJr.nl word#
('1*2* riahauf LiND.i. br Aihalalatrainra,Esscutnra,
r^uirad by laar. tuba held aa lha Brat
ia ilia IU lull!. nr.lwaaa lb« bnura ol Ira iu the forn-
arv?Lma ia lha aflaraooa, at Ilia C.>uHb..uaa, in I lit
1 M ii adSah tba lead la aiiaatad. Nulla, of d.aaa able.
I, Jiaaaia • public faaallatMX'l V PA Yd pMahma Iu
(day "/“ijTiroBB mum lie at a public auction,on the firm
loo mouth, bntween tha uaual houro of aalu, at tl»«
a bllc ialeain the county where the letter* temeincu
/ij.iitniatrntion orOuardianahlp.inay have been grant-
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iflr.Iittte* ol ihi* Stale, and nt the door of the Court
here each •*!«« are to be held.
f rlheanleof Pereonnl Property, muet lie given in
* iier i’UllTY date previoua to tho day ofeale.
, ■JJJ” \|, e Debtora and Creditor* of an Estate uniat be
W?^!i!l?an!»Uo«tion will lie made to the Court ofOrdin
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2»* leave to wall NEGROES, in uni be published lor
SlSt MONTHS, before any order obaolute shall be mMde
^ ■ bvth** Court.
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Eijif*—’lor diantindon from administration, monthly fix
J3u3or diamiaeion from GuardtanHliip,ybr<yd(i|f*.
“STm fertile foeecoaure of Mortgage must be published
1 uSIVer /ime month*— fbrestablishing lost papers,for the
of three inoHlht—tor compelling titles from Exocu-
^Ad ninistrators, where a Bond Ima been given by the
• jr i the full *p>ice of three monfht.
"nU»Hea*iione will always be continued according to these
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•tnUm!,;.less of this kind continues to receive prompt atten-
■ Office of the GEORGIA JOURNAL.
l^ePtHTTANCE-S BY MAIL.— 1 * A postmaster may en-
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l c r e, 'Lri,uion of a third person, and frank the letter if wrii-
I 1 ** JJ hiinielf.”—A mo9 Kendall, P. M. G
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POETICAL.
• ‘»TI3 NO SIN TO LOVE.”
We are not strangers—we have nut
As carelessly as others do—
Thou to look ou me, and forget
The form that passed before thy view ;
While others claimed thy smile and caught
The music of thy silver tone—
And I, to cherish in mv thought
Elicit look and motion of thine eye—
Each kindly word—euch smile (hat lent
New beauty to thy playful lip—
Each glow that oVrthy fair cheek went—
A pearl and coral fellowship—
Each movement of thy form and grace.
Each shading of that expressive brow—
The iovoiis smiles that deck thy face—
All serve to wake my spirit now !
With every hope, with everv dream
Of fame and power—amidst the night
Of conscious strength, thine imaee seems
Around me like some holy light!
And then l (eel that nil which earth
Of power or glory might bestow,
Were vain nndcolct and little worth,
Like sunshine streaming on the snow—
If thou wert not the shrine whereon
The garlands ofinv fame might blossom—
It that which lighted up my own,
Wake not a thrill within thy bosom!
It may be that thou hast not given
One gentle thought of thine to me—
That, like some pure, bright star at even,
Thou roamest onward 'fancy free,”
Unmindful, as that holy star,
Of ardent eyes to thee upturning;
Still in thy radient sphere afar,
A blest and lovely radiance burning.
Or it mav be that in thy heart
There lies some fond, remembered token;
Some sacred feeling held apart,
Some cheiished dream of love unspoken;
Perchance Borne form, to fancy dear,
Glidelh before thy memory’s eye
That still in fdumberthou cansthear,
His whispered and his fond reply !
And oh! if it be so, I ask
Nor thought nor sacrifice from thee;
And mine shall be the ungentle task
To love, when love can only be!
Like one who bows him down in prayer
Before some veiled and mystic shrine,
Even when the idle glories there
May never on his worship shine.
MISCELLANEOUS.
THE MAN Or HONOR,
OR
THE TRIALS OF VIRTUE.
•That which unholdeth him, that thee upholds—
His honor.’ Shaktpcart.
If there was a truly happy man in this world
I Ambrose Dumesnil was one. God had bestowed
lupoD him unsparingly, all those gifts that sweeten
I life, and constitute felicity. Health, content, and
(cheerfulness wore his, with a never ending desire
I of assisting his fellow creatures. Ills tastes were
■ simple, and his fortune moderate, yet more than
limple to supply all his wants and wishes.
| Dumesnil was thirty-three years of age and
■calmly enjoyed existence, unmolested by the pas.
|aions that governed his youth. A distaste for the
■din and bustle of .the world, and a desire for pro.
Ifound repuse, induced him to take up his residence
■in a retired and beautiful village. There ho lived
lin peace with himself and with the world, cultivat
ing ihose pursuits which yielded to him tho grcal-
*tt pleasures—his hooks and his garden, with ils
lahady walks and blooming flowers; he abandoned
himself to these enjoyments, forgetful of the world,
land fell lo he one of uninterrupted happiness, for
(Ambrose was perfectly satisfied with his moderate
Imeans, which enabled him to live in peaceful ob.
Iscurily. He did not wish logo beyond the limits
|uf bis own garden, and refused alike, with equal in-
Idlfference, the splendors, and the honors of the
■academy.
I Sometimes his thoughts would wander back to
iParis, and he would sigh at the recollection of his
|former vanities.
‘Poor people,’ thought he, ‘who agitate them-
lieives so uselessly in that vortex of pleasure, and
|*peud their lives in following gilded chimers.'
I The daily journals which lie received and read
■brought him vast subjects for meditation ; he en.
Tountered from time to time the names of one or
>lher of his old companions—some members of the
>»r, aome devoting themselves to literature, and
Rheri aiding their country by their wise counsels.
Some rising, others falling, he deplored the misfor
tune of one party, without being jealous of the suc-
eis of the other.
‘I would not change the happy mediocrity of my
audition,’ said he, with sincerity, 'for all the tri-
Mmpba and prosperity ol the most favored- And
^et,’ ba continued in a subdued voice, 'if I had not
leen enlightened by reason, I also might have fol-
owed these frivolous enjoyments, not so much to
kratify himself, hut for her——’
I Where i« the man that finds not in the post, the
Bomb of many a bright illusion and cherished hope?
*Tbe heart of Ambrose Dumesnil had not been whol-
1 exempt from weakness, and looking back upon
*c past, lie could traverse with the clear torch of
emory, scenes replete with witchery, sadness, and
[■•appointment. And he could still gaze with rap
ine on those gifts of the first and only love that
H ev er penetrated his heart. Theso treasures he
Inierved with pious care. The hair was bright
color, and the letter was signed Lucy. He
euld now smile, looking at this tresa ol hnir,nnd
*1 letter that he had ao often bntlied with his
Does not time, with more than magic power,
'al all the wounds of the heart, let them be over so
sdlyt Ten years had rolled by since the birth
■that love, which the determined opposition ol his
tmily had reduced to despair. Dumesnil soon of.
r r quitted the province, and betook himself to Par-
J where all was forgotten, and he heard no more
T hia loved Lucy.
[ ‘Doublleas,’ thought lie, ‘she no longer thinks of
At sixteen, the impressions are ■* speedily
11\ M , .* le - v B,a *•«•■•<•>
[Dumesnil. notwithstanding Ida modesty end re-
Nment, »o» unable to withdrew altogether from
1 °k*Br»ation tud admiration of hie friend*.—
VOIt. XXXVI-
They often visited him in his retrout, asking conn
sal'At his wisdrim whetidver they hAind themaolves
In any difficulty. They always cited him ns Bn ex
H nple ofeound sense, j,lined to n noble nud benevo
lent heart, for Dumesnil was not onlv a professor
of good p inciplos, but a conslnnt practiser of them.
Sueli men nro rare, am! therefore oblnin a certain
celebrity whenever they nro found. We ate wil-
ling to do justice to their merits, hut never to imi-
lute them, consequently tho reputation oTDumesnil
was eslubliseed upon a solid nod extensive bnsis,
nud he was cnlled *the wise and honest man,’ titles
wnicli he certainly more than merited. This re
compenie of his virtues would liuve proved satis-
factory, if his friends had not passed from ndmiru
lion into indiscretion.
Under the notion (but Dumesnil was full of lie-
novolonce, truth, and wisdom, tliey first cume to
consult him upon nfFuirs of consequence, then he
was appointed un arbitrator in ull matters of deep
importance, and bis retirement and quiet was bro
ken in upon every moment.
‘We leave ull to you,’ his friends would say, ‘be
cause wo know not any other man as honest or as
just.’
One ofliis old cojlego companions endeavoured
to force him to accept a post of great political im
portance, in which it was of the utmost consequence
to have a truly honest man. But this Dumesnil
resisted vigorously, saying that the wealth of the
world would not induce him to embark in the fa
tigues and enros of a political life, but other omis
sions ho could not refuse which were equally re
pugnant to him to perform. Two of his friends
named him oxecutor to their last will and testa
ment; a third on his death bed, confided to him the
guardianship'of three children, the eldest only seven
years of age. How refuse tho prayer of a dying
friend? of a fond father who suid with expirin
voice.
‘Take pity on my poor orphans; if you ubandon
them, they will fall into the hands of greedy rela
tives, who will despoil them of the little I am ena
ble to leave . I know but ono honest man who will
protect their interests ns lie would his own,nud this
consoling thought will sweeten the pungs of our
cruel separation. Let me die in peace, wi’.lt this
consolatory assurance, and my last words shall be
to bless and pray for you.’
Dumesnil accepted the guardinnshipjof his young
charges, but from the moment ho undertook this
serious responsibility, ho felt all tho weight and
embarrassment of tho father of a family. Fare
well to the quiet culm of that peaceful retreat, where
he had lived alone and happy for so many yenrs.—
Farewell the silence and the study thut hud soothed
and sweetened the hyegune duys of Ids existence.
For the first time the philosopher perceived that his
house was sinull, and scarcely accommodated
his young guests. His beautiful gnrden was con-
verted into a play ground, and his cherished plants
and flowers, trampled under tho feet ofliis heedless
and merry visitors.
At the farthest end of the garden Dumesnil
constructed a pavilion, to which lie removed his li.
brnry.
‘\l least,’ thought lie, ‘here I shall he quiet and
enjoy repose. The expense is somewhat more
than I am able to bear, hut I shall get over it by
strict economy.’
In fine the honest guardian was obliged to mort
gage a part of his estate to buy tho architect.—
Thus he clearly saw his ruin was commenced, for
it is difficult for a man to practice economy, who
has but just enough to live upon.
Dumesnil felt this sad truth, yet lie lost not
age.
'After all,* said he,‘I can work, or write, ns so
many others are obliged to do, but then I shall bo
obliged to renounco my loved solitude and sweet
independence, which has so many charms for
me.’
One evening, as our philosopher was plunged in
to one of those reveries, in which the bitter necessi
ty of exertion was manifesting itself to him, a car
riage slopped suddenly at the dour.
‘Who can this be at such an hour ?’ thought lie,
'but it must bo some mistake.’
A loud knock was now heard ; Dumesail went
himself to the door.
‘Ah! is it you, Dumesnil V said a well known
voice.
•Yes,’ replied he, approaching the door of the
carriuge, in order to ascertain who really wns the
speaker; and when he saw his friend, ho exclaimed,
‘Sinival ! by wliat huppy chance .’
■1 shall explain all in a moment, but first assist
me in taking down this box.'
'It is extremely heavy,’ said Ambrose.
‘Yes, for the article it contains is made of iron.’
‘What is it then,’demanded our hero.
‘The model of a steam engine, of my own inven
tion, u discovery that I have brought to you, in or
der to have your opinion.
‘So at last you have become industrious,’ said
Dumesnil.
■Not in the least; that is what 1 shall never he,’
replied Sainval.
‘Then 1 have not understood you rightly. Is it
not a steam engine of your own invention!’ said Du
mesnil.
‘I only suid that before the coachman,’^replied
Sainval, 'there was no necessity in making him as
wise as I am inyself.’
‘Well, we are now alone you may therefore
speak freely; wliat does this box contuin ?’
•My fortune,’ replied Sainval, in saying which lie
raised the lid of the box, which was filled witii
gold.
•Yes,’continued lie,'my entire fortune five hun
dred thousand francs.’
‘And why bring it here?’ demanded Dumesnil-
‘To confide it to your care. It is a service which
I entreat of you to grant me and I feel assured you
will not refuse me.
One of my uncles has died lately, and left me
considerable fortune. This sum is but a portion
of rny inhei itance, und in order to securo the re
mainder, it is necessary that I proceed to the Uni.
ted States. 1 start this very night, ns the least de.
lay would be fatal to my interests. Now you can
well understand that 1 cannot tako this gold witii
M1IXEDGEYILLE, TUESDAY, APRIL 15, 1855.
NO 29
iud formerly enjoyed, and experienced all the towr-
riuniing anxieties of u miser.
Wliat would he not have given to be restored to
nis former comparative poverty. He now looked
with suspicion upon every body, his house appeared
more insecure than he hud formerly thought it, and
it would ho necossary forthwith to have iron spikes
|iut round tlin garden. At night lie would start from
his sleep under the impression that ho heard rob.
hers. Then ho would shut himself up for hours to
count ovor llm gold, and assure himself thot the de
posit was left to his care.
Thus, as guardian to ilie children, and as miser
uver the gold, Dumesnil sufiered all the cruel anx-
ieiies utluiidaul upon paternity and riches, without
having the joys of either. And it wus his charac
ter for being an honest man lliut drew upon him tiio
honor of performing these double functions, so de
licate and so emhurrassing. Certainly the charge
was heavy, arid somewhat more than our poor hero
was nine to bear, and rather a heavy toll fur worth
ami honesty to pay.
About mouths alter the deposit of gold our unfor-
tunute philosopher wns doomed lo receive another
visitor, another friend—the friend of early boy
hood, whom ho had not seen for fifteen years.
•My dear Martigny,’ said Demesnil, warmly
grasping his liuud, ‘you would not believe the joy I
leol in seeing you once again. For now I stand its
great need of your sympathy and friendship.’
‘Are you unhappy 7 But no, that cannot be. I
have the world’s opinion of you. I know that you
are a philosopher, anil u wise man, content with
your lot, surrounded by tho esteem and admiration
of all. Yes, rny friend, the world respects and hon
ors you, and it is your brilliant reputation which
brings me bore at the present moment.’
‘Wlmtcunl do for you? asked Dumesnil in a
faint voice, with a presentment of increased ember- ■
rassment.
‘I have a great lavor to ask of you,’ said Marlig -
Thus virtue, after having sufiered much, was a.
bout to lie recompensed. Ambrose Dumesnil mar
ried Lucy, the undisputed inheritor of her husband's
wealth, and thus became the legitimate piopriutor
of, the double deposit confided to his honor und
truth. Belinda.
‘Yes—hut you could place it’—
‘With you interrupted Sainval.’ 'Yon uro the
only man on earth I would confide in. Nothing is
solid or safe now-u-days. Bunkers or notaries,
they are all ulike surrounded with peril. There is
nothing certain but the conscience of nn honest
man, and I know hut one, nnd that ono is yourself.
I shall certainly deprivo myself of the interest 1
might otherwise gain. I leave in just such n bur.
rv,just give me a receipt on plain paper for the
slim, as sudden death might occur, and with this
simple acknowledgement I shall atari with perfect
tranquility and content.'
Dumesnil'a, objections wero repulsed by his
friend, and the honest man was unwillingly obliged
to accept this mark ofconfidence. Sainval depar
ted, leaving the five hundred thousand francs.
Scarcely waa he left alone with his treasure, than
Dumesnil began to comprehend the innumerable
annuyances attending such a deposit. Whore
could lib place the box? In what secret corner
would he hide it ? If aov one was aware of hi>
‘1 doubt iny power of granting it,’ said our hero .
‘All! Dumesnil, I expected not that cold receplior .
when I calculated on our old frinndship. 1 now <
perceive that I have more difficulties to battle wit'n
titan I had calculated upon.’
‘Pardon me my friend. I wisli not to oflend, o; r
refuse you. Speak, and it it is possible for me tc >
rottder you any service, I pledge you my honor tc *
do so unhesitatingly ’
‘Yes, vnu can, nnd moreover I tell you that you
are the only man in the world whom I would ask or
allow to aid mu in the criiicul situation iu which \
am placed.'
‘Explain yourself then. I ant all attention,’ said
Dumesnil.
‘I leave this very night for a distant journey,’
said Martigny.
‘You also !’
But wliat mailer thought Dumesnil, two treasures
will not be more difficult lo guard than ono. I
shall bo obliged lo enlarge rny money box, that’s
all.
‘It would he tedious, and perhaps useless, to tell
the motivos of this journey. Enough to say that
it is of vital importance to my prospects and future
welfare. 1 shall embark the day after lo-morrow
from Havre. But I go alone my friend, although I
am married. My wife is in delicato health, and
the physicians declare that she would not be ena
ble to endure the fatigues of so long a journey. I
cannot then bring her with me, and must therefore
leave her, iu France. How nm I to leave a young
and lovely woman without protection. She has not
» i-eliitinn in whom I could confido her- 1
hut ono friend, noble, generous, and honorable, with
whom I would deposit that sacred trust, and that
friend is—yourself.’
‘Wlmtl Martigny, your wife?’ exclaimed Du.
mesnil, in a voice of alarm.
‘Yes, I have your word, and I calculate upon its
fulfilment. You will accept the charge that I
shall leave to your care and vigilance My wife is
at Paris ; I shall proceed there forthwith, and bring
her back here. 1 feel assured she will not embar.
rnss you in the least, as she is mild and modest,
sweet und charming. As to the expenses of her
sojourn with you, we shall settle that on my return.
Farewell my friend. 1 shall reinemherthis service
with an eternnl recollection of gratitude.’
‘Well,’ said Dumesnil. when Martigny had gone,
‘1 shall take up my lodging in the pavilion, and put
my books in tiie garret.’
Borne hours after the visit of the husband, Mad
ame Martigny arrived. Wliat was Dumesnil’s as
tonishment to recognise in iiis friend’s wife, the ob.
jectofliis first und only love.
‘Can my eyes deceive me,’ exclaimed Ambrose,
or do I really see Lucy before me ?’
‘Yes, Ambrose, yes. Your old friend Lucy
lias become the bride of your old companion Mar-
tigny.’
‘And did you know to whom you were coming?’
asked Dumesnil.
■Yes. But I did not know it til! I was far ad
vanced on my journey, when it was impossible to
recede.’
‘And did you name to your hushund that you
were the object of my early attachment V inquired
Ambrose.
•No ! I did not,’ replied Lucy. ‘For under the
circumstances I thought it imprudent unnecessari
ly to ngitate Iiis mind. Besides, 1 had every reli
ance upon your honor, and the reputation you hud
acquired forbid me to doubt you. 1 feel assured
the love you once felt lias been long since forgot
ten, trad iny image lias completely faded from your
imagination.’
Dumesnil believed that she was right, but this
unlooked for aparalion, this singular meeting, had
appropriated tike u revolution in the heart of the
philosophic Ambrose, and although the flames of
love had been for (some time smothered, yet they
were not completely extinguished, and only requir
ed the breath of circumstances to burst out afresh.
Dumesdil soon percieved this: but what was to he
done ? Could lie with propriety leave the charge
he had pledged himself to protect? Would lie be
justified in deceiving the friend who had trusted
him ? He would consider as an additional ward—
a second treasure; hut a treasure far more difficult
lo protect than the other, for he had to guard a-
guinst himself, as well as guard from the contact of
others.
Never was virtue more tried—nevor did virtue
conquer more gloriously. Tho honesty of this
mnn hud exposed him to all sorts of inconveniences.
His house wus made a nursery of—hia exquisitely
cultivated garden converted into a play.gaound—
his retirement destroyed—Iiis peace invaded—all
Iiis best und dearest occupations intruded upon, and
ull this because he was mote honorable, honest,
wise, ahd benevolent than the generality of his fel
low men. Still Dumesnil, much as he deplored the
circumstances under which he was placed, perse,
vered in strictly doing Iiis duly, although at times
he felt the burden more than he was able to bear.
At length lie began to despair, and looked for
ward to deutli, which could alone, he thought, re
lease him from the annoyancea which he now felt
were beyond human endurance, when a letter arri
ved from Philadelphia aealed with Hack, announc
ing the death of Martigny, and ataling that previoua
to hiadoccaab he Lad fulfilled the object of hia jour
Jonathan Rlick in Love with Mias Miles.
With Unit the nigger went up stairs, and 1 arter
him full chisel; he looked round us if ho wanted
to say Roinolhing jest as he stopped by a door in
the upper entry wuy ; hut I told him to go uhead
and hold Iiis yop, for I wnrn’la going lo wait any
longer. So he rappudat tho dour and somebody
said, ‘Come in." My heart riz in my throat, for I
knew whoso voice it was, and I began to feef ns if
I’d pitched head for’erd into n mill dam. The clif
fy opened the door, and sez he, ‘Mu’um here’s a
gentleman thut wnuld come up.’
I heard somebody give a little scream, and with
that I just pushed the nigger out of the way, and
say* 1, ‘Miss Mtlea. how du you du ?’
isniggeis ! if I didn’t raly pity tlio poor gal, she
looked so struck up in a heap; hut wliut on nrtli
made her uct so 1 couldn’t tell at fust, for 1 felt kin.
dor streaked ns I’d done something tlint wasn’t
exactly right, though I couldn’t think wlrat, nnd
was as much us a niiuil afore I looked right in her
(aoe. But jest as I lilted up my foot, urter making
one ot my lust cut hows, she stood jest afore me.
By the living liukev, I never was so struck up in
my born days! You know wliat I’ve told you n-
buul Miss Miles, about her plump round form, her
rosy cheeks. Well, I’ll he darned if there wns
one of them left ! I shouldn’t have known her no
more than nothing, if it hadn’t been for her eyes
and the way she spoke. Her neck, and for’nrd
that always looked so white and liarnsonie, when 1
see her at Cousin Mary’s, nnd in Broadway, wus as
yellar as a saffron hag. There wnrn’t the least
mite of red in her face, and her hair was nil friz-
zley. and done up iu a great loose awk’ard looking
gown, that made her seem twice as chunked asslieus-
ed to, and that looked more like a man’s shirt cut long
and rutiled round than any thing else. It warn’l
any loo close neither, and both her lectio shoes
were down lo the heel.
There I stood n looking at her with all the eyes
in my head—my foot was drawn up light, und my
arms were a hanging straight down, jest ns they
swung back arter I’d made my bow, l kinder, -
seemed lu feel Hint my mouth wns open a lectle, and I s, ’ ima ‘ drums, and gitars ut night,
that 1 wus a stal l ing at her harder than was man- , cn " . i,llu 11 P url y gal’s ft
gor them a leelle, for somehow I felt curious lu
know Itow .the tarnal cunning critter contrived tu
mnlo herself look so plump und round. The tops
of her frocks, both on ’em were all stuffed full of
something soft that mnde them stand out ns nal’ral
hie. I liudn’l hut jest time lu drop the frock and
t down again—looking as innocent as if hotter
wouldn’t melt in my mouth—when Miss Miles
came hack again. Sno’d put on uijother frock, nnd
somehow or oilier, had fixed up her liairao ns to
look rather more ship tlinpe ; but she hadn’t had
time lo pul herself altogether, though her face did
look n leelle whiter limn it did when I fust went in.
1 here warn t n hi; of a hump ou her back, ant! she
was nul’rul nil the way round !
But 1 can’t slop to right you on all rny dreams
that night. I don’t think dough-nuts and sugar can.
dies set well on the stomach, and J don’t think see.
iug so many gals set well on my head. There is
a terrible all over-isli sort of u feeling in a young
fuller when lie’s been u cruising among the gale ull
day, and coins hum nnd cuddles up in bed at night.
When lie gits one gal stuck fast in his head and
his heart, as I iiad Judy VVLite, lie's as quiet as a
kitten, nnd Iiis head’s u sort a settled ; but nrter
lie’s been a roving over tho world as 1 nm a doing,
natur gits ruther rily, und there’s nothing that
sticks in it except the dregs, the pure essence sift
ing out nil through.
Getting in love is somewhat like getting drunk,
tho moie a fuller loves, the more he wants tu—nnd
when the heart gits u going, pill,, pat, piuy pat,
there is such a swell, that it busts up all the strings
so that it can’t hold the ginuine girt at all. When
Judy While fust took hold of my arm, I give the
coat sleeve a rale hearty smack, where her hand
had lain, nud that coat 1 raly did love better than
any other I ever had on ; hut 1 never think the bet
ter of my yalliu- gluves for shaking the linnds of
all the gals in York. I’ve only got Miss Miles out
ol my head, to git a thousand new shinuin faces in.
Lord knows wliat il become of me, Par, if 1 goon
to he bedivilled arter the women, ns 1 have been this
now year sday ! When a feller is made any tiling
on by em lie must have been brought up under
good preaching in Wenlliersfield lo stand it hero in
Vtirk. 1 feel ns if 1 shouldn’t he good for much
alore long, myself, the way I nm going on, hut to
scoot up und down Bmudwuy like that ere Count,
and to hang round gnls’ winders, with files and has-
nets for me. But if you’d a given me llie best
farm in all weathersfield, 1 couldu’t have helped il,
l was so struck up iu a heap at seeing her in sicli n
fix. I guess it wus as much as two mitiils afore
either on us suid a word ; and, nt last, Miss Miles
turned lo the nigger us savage as a meat uxe, and,
sez she,
‘Why didn’t you show Mr. Slick into the room?’
‘Oil, don’t seem to mind it.’sez I, a walking in.
to the room ; und it setting down on a chair with
my hat between my knees, ‘I’d jest us lives set up
here as any » hero.’
She looked as if she’d hurst right out a crying,
hut at Inst she sot down and tried to uct as ii' she
was glad to see me. She begun to make excuses
about herself and the room, and said she wasn’t ve
ry well that morning, and tliul she look u new hook
ltd sot down just us she wus lo read it.
'Oil,’sez 1,‘don't make no excuses ; it aint the
fust lime that I’ve ketched a gal inthenuds. Mnrm
used to say that she nevor looked worse tliun com.
mon that somebody wasn’t surtaiulo drop iu.’
sez she, a illicit alter i'd said this aud looking duwu
on lierawk’urd dress, as if she couldn’t help hut
feel streaked yit.
Surtainly,’ sez l; ‘dont make no stranger of
me.’
With tliat she opened the door aud an nllfired
harnsome room it wns. There wns a great ma
hogany bedstead in the middle, with a high goose
feather bed on it, kivered over with a white quill
and great squure pillows nil ruffled ofF, and the win.
der curtains were part white nnd part sort of indi
go blue. 1 couldn’t get a chance to see wliut else
there wus, she shut the door so quick.
By gracious,’ sez 1 to myself, after slto went out
who on earth would ever have thought that Miss
Miles was so old ? When I saw her yesterday, I’d
a took iny Lible oath that she warn’l more than
eighteen, but now I’ll he choked if she don’t look
as ancient ao the hills. If ever she sees thirty again
lie'il liavo L« turn like a crab and walk backwards
fivoorsix years.’ Wlinl puzzled me most was
how in creation she contrived to look so young—
hut il wnrn’t n great while afore I made it out as
clear as one of Deacon Syke’s exliortanls. Alter
she'd gone out, 1 just got up, nnd took n sort of sur-
vey of tho room; everything was t’other cend up,
belter skelter in it ; there was no end to the finery
aud iiarnsomo furniture, but it don’t make much
odds how extravagant ono is a laying out money if
things aint kept r.eat and snug iu their places. The
more things cost, tho more it seems to hurt a feller’s
feelings to seo them flung about topiy.lurvy, as
they wero in that room. I ruther think she didn’t
have her company up there very often—liut a gnl
hat’s got a good bringing up will he jest as parti
cular about the pluco she keeps for herself, and
which company never sees, as if it was like to he
seen every day of her life.
I begun tu be allfircd glad (hut I didn’t ask iter
to have me yesterday, for if she’d been ns young
as she seemed tu he, and as harnsome as an an
gel, I wouldn’t a had her arter seeing that leetlo
room of lier’n. A pocket handkerclier, work
ed and sprigged and rutiled with lace, was ly
ing oil the settee, hut it was all grimed over with
dirt, and looked us if it would a gin any tiling for
a sight of the wash tub. The carpet was as soft
and thick as could be, and it was all kivered over
wilts hunches of posies os natural as life; hut there
was a great grease spot close by the fire, where
somebody had opsot a lamp, and all round the edg.
es and in the corners it looked as if it hadn’t been
, ^ . face all a flush.
n S 80 * itliout being kind u dazzled and scorch d.
li warms me up in Inis cold weather, nnd kind'es
such a louse in my heart, that the blood runs thro*
it us hot as if il had scooted through a steumboal
pipe. Aud then the h! I tired critters have so iminy
sly ways of coming over a fuller, that I don’t think
much of a man who can see their purity mouths
tremble, mid not feel his tremble tu. If they slide
up, I can t help sliding loo, if I died ; and when
them black eyes flash on me, 1 will right down un
dcr em as cut grass in Weuthorsfieid on a hot sum*
mcr day. It is natur ull this, and I can’t help it no
how.
1 he Whole Duty of Woman.
Sincerely, my dear, 1 utn going to odor you a
lew words ot udvico.as to the conduct and helm-
ymr must calculated lo insure your happiness; and
1 am sure you will take it kindly of me, consider,
mg the expel ieuce l have hud, and your early time
Ui life. Wliat an advantage it is to he told things
instead of having to find them out ? I wish I had
hud somebodv to *rfui« - ...i ■ • - •
age.
Of course, my dear, between ourselves, utmost
every young woman is either married or intends to
he. It is wliat we have lo look lo, poor things!
Now, iu order lo get married, my love, you must
learn to manage yoursel! ; and, after you huvo got
married to manage your husband ; and both logctli.
er is wlml I call the whole duty of Woman.
As long as you ure single und looking out, your
first study must he to control your inclinations. All
of us you know, have our little fullings ; the great
thing is lo couceul them. For instance, dear. sup.
puse you have a henrly appetite, you should restrain
il in company ; il is a thing ilia', many gentlemen
(particularly the most susceptible) object to; nnd
you can indemnify yourself by a nice supper in
your own room. You will thus, dear, please the
kind of men who make the best husbands—those
most easily managed. Always keep down your
temper, my dear; never speak sharply, or look
cross, whatever you may feel, und ho cautions my
lovo how you talk scandal, or sny spiteful things of
Iriends behind their hacks; many good catches
are lost by little weaknesses peeping out. If, my
dear,you have any personal blemish, or peculiarity
which you think would prevent n certain person
Irom liking you, hide it from him if you can, and
let him find it out after you ure married.
If anybody is attached to you, never contradict
him dear, but full in with all his little wishes nnd
whims, however unreasonable. In short, devote
yourself lo him entirely ; your turn will come.
When you are married, my dear, you should pur
sue another course altogether. The object of all
husbands is, to put upon their wives as much ns they
can, by making perfect sluves of them, and stint
ing 1 Lein in their pleasures and enjoymonts, so as
lo have the more to lay out on themselves. You
will most likely find your husband very dear. Ho
will be trying to calculate how much you require
for housekeeping, and will want lo allow you so
much und no more. At tlio end of tho week or
month, ho will ask to look over your uccounl book,
to see Imw the money lias gone. Now, my dear,
| you will find that there are numerous trifling extras
: that you will want, which you would wish him to
know nothing about ; little suppers when lie is ub.
- sent ; presents to friends, und a thousand other
i odds and ends. You will make tlieso up hv put-
[ ting a halfpenny or a penny a pound upon tiie teu
| or sugar; of by charging so much for imaginary
soap or pearl ash. And then, love, ifyou find him
We are indabted to Mr. BerrlMlbf
Report uf tbe Commissioner UVkuHUtMum W*Uk
we have mode • cotnptfcliun of ooels fMU MM
upon estimate, of .(irieeltural ptnodoeoof tfcffMB*
try. fbr the yeor 1844, M Wd thiols will ho o*JMtt-
estto our reader*. . . > ,,
Wheat.—Of tits* article wort produced' uMp-
five million buthclt, worth, on nn average ?■ «eele
per bushel, equal to $71,260.000. Ohio it -tho
largest producer, eay about 16,000,000 bushele-
New York comes next with about 10,OO0iQSO..!
Virginia and Pennsylvania next, with about &>,-
000,000. Titan como Tennoeaoo, Indi—o, High
igan and Maryland. . m -
Oats.—The quantity of (hie grain railed wm
172,000,000 bushels, of which Now York produoad
31 millions, Pennsylvania 24 millitMa, Ohio SO
millions, Virginia 14 million*, Kentucky, Indiana,
and Illinois, each about 11 millions. Ths vslwof
this crop at 20 cents per bushel would bo WjWO|.
000.
Indian Com.—The crop wo* 422 milltowbush
els, which, at 25 centa per bushel would bt worth
105 1-2 millions of dollars. Of this grain’DiaMB*
see produced 01 million bushels, Kentucky Old
Ohio, each 48 million, Virginia 87 million, Indiana
24, North Carolina, Georgia and Alabama, owh
about 22, New York, Pennsylvania and Illinois,
about 19 each. South Carolina and Miaaouri about
13 each.
Potatoes The crop is put down at 100 million
bushels, worth at 20 cent. #20.000,000, New-
York 17 million, Maine 12^. Pennsylvania 7, Ver
mont 0, Michigan 5J, Massachusetts, New Hamp
shire, und Ohio, about 5 each.
Hay.—Of this valuable product of Ameriotoag.
riculiure, 18 million tons have been raised, which
at $0 per ton amounts lo $102^000,000. Now
York raises 5 million tons, Pennsylvania^ Undiaaa
and Ohio 2 millions each, Maine, Vermont, Massa
chusetts, N. Hampshire and Conneciicul r rwebout
equal proportions.
Colton.—The crop is put down at 872 million
pounds, equal atO cunts per lb. to §52,220,000.-?—
Georgia produces the largest quantity, 218 million
pounds, Mississippi 195 million, Louisiana 164
million, Alabama 140 million, North Carolina 81
million. South Carolina 49, Tennessee 30, Arkan-
s is 14. Florida 9 millions.
Sugar.—The crop is estimated at 201 million
pounds, worth at 24 cents per lb. 85,000,000.—
Louisiana raises the largest quantity, 160 million
pounds. The next highest is Indiana, with her
Mnple Sugar, then Ohio and Vermont.
Rice—of which there is produced 111 million
nods—Soii^li Carolina raise* 84 million pounds,
Georgia 18 million, Louisiurm 5 million.
Tobacco.—The crop is 152 million pounds.—
Kentucky lakes the lead, rnisiag 58 millions, Vir
ginia and Tennessee each 23 millions, Missouri 12,
Ohio 0.—Macon Messenger.
The New Arctic Expedition.—So long ago as
September 1843. il was slated that another expe
dition to the Arctic circle waa coniempluted, the
ominaud of which would be offered to Sir James
Ross ; various circumstances arose lo delay tbe
txeculiou of this design, and to modify the appoint-
neat of those to whose charge it should ho en-
t us’ed. At length, however, the return of Sir
John Franklin front his government of Van Die-
it’s Laud, lias given it a new impulse, and the
ling of the expedition under his command luti
been finally determined. After communications
from the First Lord of the Admiralty (the Earl of
Haddington.) Sir John Franklin bus undertaken
this onerous enterprise ; nnd, with the experienced
ind able Captain Crazier, (who is daily expected
from the continent,) us his second, will forthwith
,|.„ aoruiga fj.-.i. 17 — 1 J »n . .
or returned from their arduous southern voyage
u ns perfect condition us when tliey started from.
Chtlhum. Their strength and capability of re-
s stance have indeed been well tried ; and thus, for
skill in llieir conrniunders, and the requisite quali
ties in themselves, we have every reason to augur
of the results. These vessels have been
lowed up to Woudwich, where there is to be a small
steam power attached to each ship, so as to help
them, by means of the screw, to push their way
through the ice. Sir J. Franklin lias, we learn,
visited them this week, in company with hie gal
lant companion and iriend, Sir Janies Roes, whose
advice must be so valuable on suclt an occasion,
even to the most experienced polar-sea navigators,
and given directions for commencing their eauip.
rnent. Tho expedition is expected to sail about
the first week in May, and ought on no account to
be later. Tbe ships being in first rate order, will
not require the leust repair. The only alterations
necessary will be for the purpose of applying the
stuum.power and screw-propeller to assist
swept for ever so long. A chest of drawers, sol- j .I" 1 '.®’ or ’ nt l” m "8
id, shiny mahogany—with a great looking glass,
swung between two pieces of mahogany on the lop
—stood on one side tlio room, nnd there a hanging
uver tho edge on ’em, as true as I live, were the
about the quantity of that, you must seem hurt and
angry, as il he doubted or mistrusted you ; and if
he persists in being inquisitive, you should get into
a little pel with him, slam the door, und run up
long, harnsome curls, that I’d seen ou Miss Miles ' * ,ll ' rs 01 when there is a tiff
when she was tu Cousin Mary’s party ! Wat, think, 1 ^ elween .yo“. never come to. till he has made amends
sez I, if this don’t take the rag off the bush ! What rL?!°'"!.*!" 6 . y . 0 “ “"’f"' 15 y °“ : 0 bracelcl ‘
du you think I saw next ? A glass tumbler ubout
having such a sum of gold in the house, what un 1 ney. He had found the man whom he sought—the
happy consequences might ensue ? From this mo. 1 thief who had robbed him of five hundred thousand
tpent Dumesnil lust t|» blissful security which he' francs—and that man wm Sainval.
half full of water, with three nice, leelle, white
teeth a lying in tho bottom on it! I couldn’t help
but give a leelle whistlo when I saw them. Think,
sez I, it’s jest as like as not that Miss Miles wont
pucker up her mouth and smile, quite so much this
morning at she did yesterday, any how.
There were two leelle china cups witii the kivers
a lying down by them; ono was filled with white
ttuif, kinder like flour only ruther more dirty, and
to’lher was full of something that looked us much
like rose leaves ground down to powder as any.
thing. A Inotle chunk of cotton wool wns stuck
into it, but what on airllt it was for, I couldn’t make
out. There were two or three ailk cushions chuck
full of pins, on the drawers, and there wasnoeend
tu the mantle shelf, as well as on die tables and the
cheat of drawers.
In one corner of Ilie room, there stood a great
looking glass, a swinging betwoen two leelle posts
cut out of mahogany, and right over it two silk
| frock* ware tumbled up together. 1 begun tu fin.
for instance, or a new bonnet, or dress.
\our husband will sometime wish you to wear a
particular sort of cap, or other article of orna.
ment; if tie does, let il bo a bargain between you
fur some concession or indulgence. He may not
behave himself at all times as you could wish; in
that case, dear, there are plenty of ways to bring a
man to reason. His buttons may not he sewn on ;
his dinner kept waiting ; pickles or potatoes not
provided ; and there may ho nothing for him but a
cold shoulder when he expects a hot joint. There
are two things, in conclusion, love, that I would
strongly impress upon you. One thing is—never
let your husband have a latch-key, or he wil? lake
advantage of it lo slay out. The other is this—
tell nobody your age ; for recollect, my dear, that
human life is uncertain. You may become a wi-f
ow ; and, in that case, find the disclosure a disad
vantage-—Pus.ch.
Artificial Bed Clothing.—A correspondent
of the London Times say* that few visitor* of the
poor are aware that two sheet* of double imperial
them in light winds or calms, which greatly pre
vail among the ice of Bulan’s Bay. This can soon
be done. The officers, we believo, are not yet,
hut will of course be immediately appointed. The
intended route is through Barlow Straits, between
Capu Walker and Banko’s Land, and thence to the
continent of America lu the westward of Wollas
ton Land. They will be able lo take two years’
provisions; though the steam apparatus end coal*
will not admit of their taking three years’ complete,
as on former Arctic voyuges. Heaven prosper
them, and enahlb (Item lo complete a geographical
survey honorable to the character of the greatest
naval nation that ever existed on the face of the
i-artli!—Lit. Gaz.
Our good friend Major Oudetley returned to ihc
city yesterday, from a trip to the northern part of
Alabama and West Tennessee; We understand
that ho enjoyed himself hugely- Ai he came Into
tho office yesterday morning we observed that lie
wus » little out of sorts, and asked him what was
the matter ?
*I um trying to think,’ said tho major, 'where I
hall rni-e some money today.'
-Why,’ asked we, did you come home without
money V
•Well I did,’ was the reply. ’You see I under
took to play what they called a 'small game’ of Po-
ker on an Alabama river steamboat, and 1 didn't
have very good luck.’
'Did you lose much 7
'Yes, I wus flat broke.’
‘How was that?’
1 W by, you see it so happened that the othes play
ers held better hands than I did. My knowledge
of the game was somewhat limited, but after he
had explained lo me the value of the diflerent hand*
I concluded I should get along with tolerable safe
ty. First I held two pair, hut somebody else held
three queens, and somebody else had three king*
—that cost me twenty dollars. At last I had a foil
but another gentleman had four lane—that coil me
forty dollars, really I thought I had’em sure; I
held four aces. The betting was brisk,and at last
I slapped up my entire pile.’
‘Of course you won that time V
‘No I didn't though; what do you think one nuttt
showed against me ?'
‘Havn’t the slightest idea.'
‘He just turned over five seven* of spe.'es, had
raked down the money V
‘But that wasn’t fair, Major.’
‘Why not?’
'How could there be five seven* of spade* in
one peck j’
•That’s true; ! did not think of I bat—but it's
too late now.
With a deep eigh th* simple baartad Kijsfhft
the office in March of aomebodir who would aid
him in ‘raising lb* wind.’—N. O. Qree. Cit)