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lOtTOM JltO «asssr j^WrijlUM U* *tHf “h*"* StifrViSJlBM PS »r» l«*»H«J »l ft earn* par «*u*r» iii»t**A«f' A »mur» leiUsJoerssI its spsa* ofian 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- r ^iI!lviafSlXTV DAYS notice hereof, iu one of the 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 fjj'|e*fa to sell LAND, muet be published for FOUR 2»* leave to wall NEGROES, in uni be published lor SlSt MONTHS, before any order obaolute shall be mMde ^ ■ bvth** Court. •J* 11 ions for letters of Administration, must be publiabed 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 aIlmIiJrequirements, unless otherwise ordered. •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- I ****„« in a letter to the. publisher of a newspaper, to pay 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 Inh-To*^ ir •trim ^4 .-tp-l^t 1 '. w».p ;pn ' warmth lb*e ilm B’lintl? wjrtw' only, an 4 will I l«ff. 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)