Newspaper Page Text
fa
ith
Silk,
Kidd
llll-Dl
ml •*
»<« ** li» ill *•*•• ur ratisiiwi ony
#r?3i:%ic?l'rs «r« lnsnrto-l tt 3*5 cants per rauar*
•Ml iaanrlinn. awl 50 oast* per tqusrs for r«rh
A in Ike Journal if a upaco ot'iuu
r ..llivi>B,«oi»U.MiUf il dOAfiona hundred word*
oil*Uv AiltiKAlairHiiira, K*0( uu»r»,
”'11' required bv taw* to Ue held on the fir»i
JJJJJi'rt,* in min, ooiwean the huura of ten in the fore.
J three in the afternoon, at tlta t'oiirfdimine, iu tiir
« licli ihe laud if. fUoated. Nothi* of ilutsa Helen
*SJea In « |HibU< gnaottutflXTY UAYcJ previous to
WPJJ ,• JJjjHOEd muat !»o »t a-publio oucilon.on the flr*l
I / ••*}•" ttufitiontU*between the uaual Itouraofsale,at th«
1 MUni* the coiiiily where the Intern teNinmen
I T** riJMiaiftratiott or Uuardianahip, may have hern grant*
I^2d*taialXrY IIA Yd noth a thereof, in one Sf fl.c
"UbeaMtta* *hi<» Htate, and at the door of the Court
riShrra inch anloe are to ho hold.
A>in,"i..r»heaale of Paraonal Property, mutt lie given in
.afUiiner, FORTY dava prevtona to iho day ofanlm
W" (Ue Debtors end Cieditors ol so Ketutu most he
•* EOllTY diva*
pjSir.1,-1 neiilicwtioti will he mndo to tlie Court ofOrdintt*
fJtJire to sell LAND, mini he published for POUR
Hjjjj^l^veto sell NEGtlOES, must he published for
JJJ \|ON I’ll'J, before any orilif nbioluto ahull be inude
»,ae liv the Court.
£7*1 liiaf jr |«*ttera of Admin'iHtmtion, must ho puhiisliod
-tor dismiedou from adiniuistrntion, monthly 9uc
-for di«ini*aioi» ffotu (*uardiain*hi|i,./0Wv
r« for the toreuioaura of Morlgugo must ho |>nhli*|i<*il
I »!£.. ur four mo ithi —for eftahlialiing lost papers, for thf
l*t7!Tjfr ef Mere month*—lor coinpolling titles front Kxecu-
Ail-iiinistralore, wltoro n llond has been given Wy the
'S-M.l.UuI'hII’P''" of three milks. ,
pSljusiioin will always he continued according to these,
".Liirequirement*, uhlofs otherwise ordered.
liiKsiine** of this kindconttmtos to receive prompt alien*
Office of the GEORGIA JOURNAL.
REMITTANCES BY M\IL.-“ A postmaster mav en*
iMeisnner ie «loiter to the publisher of a uewspnpor, to pey
l .«wrihtinn of a third person, and frank the letter if writ*
SlrSnlelfr-Aataa KendaU, P. IU. O
twaBEfiisE
,c.
MISCELLANEOUS.
VOL. XXXVI-
MILLEDGEVILLK, TUESDAY, MAY 6, 1845.
NO- 32
[from THE LONDON COURT JOURNAL.]
VIRTUE REWARDED.
On the 3.1 of January, duiing tho cold which
[ reigned so severely in Paris, at lire moim-m when
ihtui-w was falling in Ituavy flakes, u stoppage of
[ —.pnircri. horses and vehicles took place sudden
rLailie earner of the Rue Si. Ilonore and the Hue
qj, 1' Arhre Sec.
J . Winn's the matter?” asltcd a young man,
| .liar, accent declared him to bo an inhabitant of
, thesnulii of Frnnce.
-I real!v can’t inform you, Monsieur,—1 was.go.
ing to ask" the question myself.”
-It's only a man who has fallen on the ice,” said
uoran°e woman, who had overheard the colloquy
—"tolliing inure. Tvvosnus apiece—come buy !”
•It'j a man dead drunk,” said a porter, pushing
hit way out of the crowd.
"Bali/" cried an old woman, "1 bet that it’s one
oflbose cursed omnibusses which has overturned
■ante poor wretch. I had my leg broken by one
t»o years ago !”
“No such thing,’’ cried a stout man, warmly
•ripped up in a thick wrap-rascal, a large hand
kerchief up to his none, and his hands fixed in his
,jde pockets—“It’* nn suclt tiling. It’s a man
struck with cold and hunger. Fie is dying—that’s
evident. Pour man ! These things quite affect me!
1 should have slopped to lend him some assistance,
but the fact is I am too late us it is, for my wife is
waitin', dinner for me. Pardon, Monsieur, permit
me to pass."
Tlie stranger, however, to whom this request
was addressed.pushed the stout man in tlie con.
trarydirection,and pressed through the crowd of
gazers until he arrived, and without difficulty, at
the spot where tho cause of this assemblage was ly
ing. There, near tlie founluiu, was extended on
tlie ice, an old man, scarcely covered wiili a few
tags. Tho stranger yielding only to tile dictates
of a kind lieurl, stooped down, and was In tlie act
of raising :bo unhappy man, when a cry broke tlie
tilence of the crowd, and u sweet voice exclaimed,
"It's my poor old man !" At the same moment u
younggirl piercing the crowd, joined her feeble aid
to that uftlic stranger.
"You know liitn, then ?’’ lie demanded, without
I looking at the new comer, but in trying to prevent
I her from having nuy share of the burden.
"Yesand nn, Monsieur,” she replied, inking out
[ a smelling bottle. ‘-I know him by sigh’., hut um
ignorant of his name."
A third person came to add his assistance to tlie
ofortiof the young people. “It is old Gerald!”
btsaiii- “Fie must have gone out this morning.
• Ike first for thoso four day*. This was, Monsieur,”
•aidlie,speaking to the strunger, ‘-lie lives here,
it number 3U, and I am the porter of the house.—
I Come let ine take your place, my liltio woman.”—
| continued lie lu tlie young girl ; “this gentleman
I wdlein take him to his room in the lop of tho
kouse. It is sheer want that has reduced him to
thiistnte. They say he was unco rich, and 1 de
limit; for it is only the rich who allows thorn-
nines lo famish from hunger when they ure poor—
I »e have still two stories logo up—1 would not bo
| guilty of such a foolish act; I would at once goto
Mivorand demand aid. Tuke cure—tho stuir
an not steep; it is so dark here you can’t well
seen. It is different with me, I am used to the
place—that's ihe door. Push! He never needed u
key to lock up his properly, poor man. They
say Gerald is not his name—Diablo ! bow cold it
kap here under these titles !”
They placed the old man on some straw in one
turner of the garret, and the stranger hastened to
feel his pulse. “He is dying of cold and want,”
Rid he; "here, my friend,* he re’s some money for
? ou l bring up some soup, some wine, nnd a fire.”
I -fk*porter held out hi* hand for the money, when
I 'k« siranger suddenly exclaimed, after having
| aearclied his pockets, “Good heaven ! they have
I taken«ny purse /” and his feutures expressed most
•itidly vexation and fear for the old man’s recove-
?•
‘I will got them," cried a gentle voice; it was
"tl of the young girl, who had followed them un-
I pjtceived, She hurried out the room, and roturn-
I 5f. ,|,e « di, y • for t>he preceived that Iho slightest
*!*y might be fatal, A woman followed her
I “tinging fire und wood, with which sho lit a fire
•ad then retired. The young messenger was load-
I *d with a bottle of wine, a sinull louf, and the wing
IJ**®*!’wrapped up in a piece of newspuper.—
I “Wplaced the the whole near the old mail, and
| IdM, kneeling down arranged the fire and stirred
| '"ip to a blaze,
Thoo'djinun by degrees recovered his senses ;
'•'"•'t presented with food iu small quantities, und
* '•hart time animation was restored. Too
***k to thank his benefactors, ho could only ex-
bis feelings hy looks of the most touching
tWUude, particularly when they rested oil the
girl, still occupied near the hearth. To the
SHybeappeared nothing elso than n charm-
2*wl mysterious vision. Who could this young
jJRIure be, who so earnestly nnd effectively devol-
J"™ a work of charily, when hor own attire gnvo
indication of privation and penury ! Cold ns
•aatlier was, tho bonnet which encircled her
*•'0 anil beautiful features was of black straw;
J^Wk gloves mended in several places, served to
, *iber bunds but certainly not to gnarnnteu them
“•'u'e cold. An old cashmere, worn to the last
inily, was thrown over a faded gown of dark
I ^ ,nd ' ,Cr w * m * B appearance betokened the ub.
ItHl Wllrm garment. Tlie young man
1 lit*.^““biBtlly have been struck l»y tlio ex
’Jr be *oljr of Iter features hud there been no oth
* , I n 10 attract him ; but there was about her
I ^ '™<crib»ble tomeiiiing which pleases more
[Hg J are beauty—and thnt is, u union of goodness
I w,. ,®* nc *> which iu, indeed, hut seldom to be
jjfislft bot when teen ia irresistible. At Ins'
*b* old* task was over—the appronchee
foi ™*® n -nnd stooping down towards hint, nod
■gll*f**** d kindly at she uttered the wofils, “I
return.”
ihe duor of our hotel formerly t He always wore
it green bundagn over his eyes, to conceal hit fucc
from the passers by. and held a small basket of
matches in his hand,”
“Yes,” interrupted Madame Rovinl in her turn,
"I remember hint well; your lather always drop
ped somo money into the basket when returnfng
from the Houi-m\ You always used to call him
your poor old man ; and you, little us you were, de
lighted in giving liim everything you could scrape
together.”
“Well, sincn our departure from the hotel, wo
have asked i nch other a hundred times what could
have become of him.”
“Yes,” said Mad. Revial, with evident interest.
“Well, mother, I found him today, at last, but in
susli a wretched state that 1 was really shocked.
Stretched on the snow, dying, absolutely of cold and
hunger; and without the kind assistance of this
gentleman, ho must have perished where lie lay.”
“Say rather without yours,”said the young man
earnestly. -*I could do nothing, lor I had lost my
purse. To you, and you ulone, is he indebted for
file. But,”continued lie, in a different tone,see
ing the color nguin mounting to Anna’s fuce, “it is
not for the purpose of disclosing to this lady, the
secret of your good actions lliut 1 have followed
you ; it is to request you to lake the trouble of buy.
ing bud nnd some other little necessaries for this
poor'child of misforiune. Here are a hundred
francs, that you will have the kindness to employ i much 1 am indebted to you—if you only knew it
for this purpose. I pruy you to believe thnt if I * But we will sepuritte no more, and shall have time
wits not a strunger in Paris, and on the point of : to tell you all about if”
quilting it tliis very evening. I would not take thfs Jules came forward to present the pen to bis
beup j liberty with persons to whom I am unknown. I j bride, and they both signed the marriage contract,
-hen j trust that you will excuse my request,” Formed under such auspices, who can doubt that il
oung “There is no necessity to offer an apology,” said ; whs a happy one 7
Mud. IFeviul; “on the contrary, we ought to thank
you for having selected us to complete a benevolent
action.”
‘Now, Madam," added tho young mnn in a hesi
tating and timid manner, “il only remains for me
to enquire the naino of my young sister in litis work
of kindin s«.”
Muilc moiselle Anna Revial.”
A cry of astonishment broke from the stranger—
j The Sprout family was exceedingly numerous iu
I iho village i.*f Arruwfurd, which is situated about
1 fifteen miles- nbove Alesbury Fulls, and was quite
| wealthy. They had settled the pluco principally ;
The daughter of M. Revial, ol Bordeaux, who lost j having remo ved from the Eastern purl of Pennsyl
his .fortune hy trusting in a friend, and died of J v«nia sumo twenty yeurs before—in number then
grief?” .about a half a dozen families, which hnd increased
Alas, you have but too truly stated the case.— • an(l *« ul ''P lll > d u' 1 " 1 almost every respectable sign
How does it happen that you are acquainted with ; Board to tlie olace had a name ol Sprout on it, uud
these facts ?” i lw ° t.Uat*dsi of' the farms around were called Sprout
“lain Jules Bursae,” said the younti man in a , Farm*, in c onsequence of being or having been
voice scarcely audible,
Anna grew pale arid went and placed herself
near her mother’s seat. A mournful silence suc
ceeded for a short time, and it was Jules who broke
il.
“Ah! Madame," said he, suddenly rising, “I
perceive thut 1 yesterday sent you my renunciation
of a life of happiness. This letter,” he repeated,
as he slightly touched it with tho finger of his right j being poor i»nd unable to join with the more for-
hand, with a look ofdisgu<t, “permit me to destroy I lunate, wus ol course soon forgotten, so that in the
She then look, a small case which she hnd put
down on her entroi.ee. and saluting the stranger,
she left the room and descended tho narrow stair*
with a rapid atep.
'1 lie young mun gazed on her a moment and
tlion turned towards the invalid. “I, on the con.
trary, shall not return, for i leave Paris this even
ing ; hut you shall toun hoar from mo.” He then
pressed the old mnii’s hand kindly aad deported
When ho emerged front the gateway of ihe homo
into the street, though hopelcm of seeing his young
H**islant in the work of benevolence in wlito-h hu
Imd been engaged, ho still could nut avoid looking
round to see if by chance she was still in eight.—
As chance would huve it, she was standing ns if un
decided at the door of a jeweller’s shop ut some
distance. At last she appeared to have fer.i ed h-r
determination,for she opened the door nod entered.
Without exactly analyzing the cause of hi* curios
ity, the stranger approached the window of tlie
shop and observed what whs going on within. lie
saw tlie younggirl take oil’her gloves, and whilst
he was admiring the dazzling whiteness and aris
tocratic form of the hand, she drew, with some
emotion, a ring from her finger und prevented it
to the person at the counter. He look i\ examin
ed il carefully, rubbed and tested the stone, and
then methodically took a small pair of scales, nnd
having ascertained tho weight, offered his customer
a price, which il was easy to ace she accepted, from
the movement pf assent with which she bent her
head. Tho jeweller opened a drawer, and counted
out some money,which he pushed over the counter;
nnd having written down the tioinoand address, he
cast the ring into another drawer, amongst « heup
of jewels of nil sorts and colors. The girl then
departed, nnd in a minute afterwards the young
msn entered the shop.
Iu ashort time afterwards she turnod into a plain
looking house, in one of the stieets off the Rue Si.
Ilonore; and opening ihe door of a room on the
ruede-chaussee, she entered hastily, crying, “Here
I ant, dear mother. You must have been uneusy
at my long absence 7”
Mndnino Revial,the person to whom these words
were addressed, appeared infirm, though more from
trouble than from yeurs. Site was stretched on a
sofa, and nppoared in delicate health. Her fea
tures uimsuully pale, assumed an appearuuce of
animation when her daughter entered, nnd then
immediately became more sombre than before.
“Dear Anna," said she, “F have an unplesant
piece of news to acquaint you with; it Was this
perhaps that made mo rather fear your return, than
take note of your prolonged absence."
Anna, having cast on u chair her shawl and bon
net, immediately sealed herself on a low stool near
the end of the sofa which supported her mother’s
Iteud. The latter pnssed hor hand affectionately
over the dark hair of her daughter, and then contin
ued :
“You know that your father had promised your
hand to the son ofM. Barsac, of Bordeaux, his old.
esl friend. The death of your father—the length
ened illness which has so much reduced me—had
not overcome my courage, as long as I could live
in the hope of seeing you one dny rich nr.d happy,
under the protection of a worthy husband. This
very morning the scnffolding of htippiness, which I
loved so much to build up lor yuu, fell to the ground.
This letter addressed to our old habitation, ought
to have come to band yesterday. Here, read for
yourself.”
Anuu look the letter which her mother held out to
Iter, and looking at the signature, remarked, “It is
from Jules Bursae himself ;” she then reud the
contents.
‘■Madame—As long ns fortune smiled on me, I
thought with delight on the ailianco which M. Re
vial and my father contracted for me ; but tlio late
failure of the firm ofDundelins dc Co., lias drawn
on ours ; mid as a man of honor 1 deem myself
bound to restore to you your promise. If your
daughter and myself were well acquainted, nnd if
mutual affection had been Ihe basis of the project-
ed union, l would have bent my knee before you,
Madame, and prayed to wait until I repaired our
disaster; but have l the right to call on another to
partake in my poverty, and to join in my labors?
Do I ever know what space or time it may take to
acquire a fortune worthy of that which you have
lost t Ho that is above cun only tell. Your daugh
ler, brought up under your protecting care, is, so I
am informed, both amiable and lovely. Who is
there then, who will not lie proud nnd happy to
give her an honorable name, and a position in soci
ety equal to tlmt in which she was born ? As to me,
1 have nothing left, and unwillingly I am forced to
•enounce tho favor designed for me. You will
purdun me, Madame, for leaving Paris without pay.
i-gmy respects to you ; but 1 should feur, alter
having seen your daughter to carry with me a
keen regret, which might trouble the calm of an
existence now consecruted to labor-
Farewell then, Madame ; believe me to be pone-
truted with every sentiment of respect for you, und
to remain, your most humble and obedient servant,
Jules Barsac.”
Tho young girl paused a moment after reading
the note, and then raising her eyes to meet her mo
ther’s, she remarked, ns she placed it on the woik
table, "Do you not think, mother, the letter is per
fect ; except the too high opinion expressed of me?
I really think that M. Barsac wiitos with the utmost
good sense. 1 almost regret that 1 had not seen a
trail whose conduct is actuated by such honorable
motives.”
“ This letlor,” said Madamo Revial, mournfully,
"cortmnly augments my regret. I feel that I could
have loved this young man as a son. Now wlmt
a different lot awaits you! Are you not terrified
at the idea of being obliged to work (or your poor
mother?”
<• How unkind !”said Anna ; “how unlike your,
self! Why, wliut is it, after all? Formerly 1 em
broidered to amuse myself, now I do the same to
contribute to your comfort. The latter will be
surely the more agreeable. Besides, I can do it
now so much more cheerfully. Look, I huve dis
pused of the collar," and sho showed the empty
case which sho hud brought too, “and here’s the
price obtained for it,” placing three pieces of mon
ey on the table.
* A light knock at the door interrupted the con.
versution; Anna cast n look of inquietude at her
mother, for sinco the loss ol their fortune no visit
had broken their solitude.
“Go nnd open it,” said the lady. With asmiie
she obeyed, and the opened door gave entrunoo to
hom she immediately recognized ns the | interruption, continued—“£1,000 a year, arising
fire, the witle, and the wing of a fowl wrapped up in
• newspaper 7 All forgotten 7 Well, that very
newepnper i* the cause of my misery being at an
end. In tlio udvertiieindut which it bure 1 read the
intelligence that a French gentleman named Fran
cois de Cliazcl had been for years seeking in vain
for bis brother, Jacques de Chazul, ruined, like
him, in Ihe Revolution ; und thut, by ins will, lie
had ordered an advertisement to be inserted every
week fhrllnee years, that bis brother might come
forward and claim his unipie fortune. T»m Juc-
quus <U» Chr?nl stnnds now be I ore you; it is I!
“Wilhout delay 1 set out for London, nnd only
returned yesterday. Your notary," continued lie,
speaking to Madame Revial, "i* mine ; from him I
heard of lit* inti nded marrige of your duugnter.—
To that ang.-l I owe my life, nnd Ihe leust 1 can do
is to present tier with a part of that fortune, which
without her, never would have retiched my hands."
’•But, Monsieur,” said Madame Revial, with emo
tion, “perlmps you huve a family 7”
“Yes, Miidume," replied he, bowing low, as he
spoke, -‘ifvou will admit me into yours.”
“Ah, you have made purl of our family for such
a long itinte! ’ said Anna, pressing in her hands
those of M. do Chazel , then, with u gesture full of
ineivette and grace, pointing to her intended bus-
I band, sb« added, in a low voice, “It is ho who took
you op. Do you recollect him? Ah! you snv
that to in-e you owe your life; If you only knew how
*>.tfair i __
The EngIMt dame walked
lea—no one yet arrived, ,
the shining rooms were •till aotttir
busies* and the inutieian* bad it all
fur that night. X pracical joker J
himeolfof the visiting !i*t, und
the invitations.” T'^v/iK;
T II E SPROU T V A 51 I I. Y ,
M STORY WITH A MORAL.
, owned by llipini. They weru a thriving, close deul.
; ing u«d cuuiiious set of men, always active and en
I terprising in matters relating to their own interest
j—honest, butt exceedingly exact in their dealing
with each ot her, und possessing just about adkhuch
public spirit, generally, and charitable feeling, as is
-common to t hut class of men. In their emigration
| they bad left - , hut one solitary family, mid thut one
and to forget that it was ever written.” Looking
from one lady to the other, and seeing no sign of
opposition, lie tore it down the middle, and threw
the portions into the fire. He watched them until
the flames had seized on every part, and then, ns
if content that it was wholly and irrevocably de
stroyed, he approached Madame Revial, and bent
Ills knee before her, as she regarded alternately
with ihe utmost satisfaction, her duoghler, und him
whom she would huve chosen for her son in-law, if
the choice hud been in her power. “Or if the
memory of this unhappy letter cannot entirely pass
uwny. and If part of it must still remain in your re
membrance, think only of the words which say, “If
your daughter and myself had boon acquainted.”
We are acquainted, and know each other already
ns if we had never been apart. 1 just now called
Mademoiselle by the name of sister; let me call
her by another nnmo not less kind, but more sacred
—lliut of wife. 1 have no fortune to offer her, but
I feel animated by double courage nnd hope. For
her—for you, Madame, who will never quit us, I
will work with energy nnd determination, and I
feel thut I shall succeed iu my efforts. Oh, Ma
dame, deign to answer me! But you weep—you
givo me your hand—you consent to my request?"'
lapse of so many years, it had grown almost whol
ly outof remembrance.
One of those affairs in which love and interest
were so inlimntely connected that the reader would
; feel litlio interest in being introduced to tlie parties.
; was in preparation on a fine summer morning ;—
when 1 happened to be iu tho village on business.—
Tlie bird*, were singing sweetly uinorg the trees
which shaded tlie low houses—the walk before the
door wus swept clean, nnd looked neat, and the girls
peeped out of the windows in clusters—iheircheeks
bearing visible marks of tlteir industry of the mor
ning ; some of them looking, indeed, ns though the)
hnd been rubbed a little with coarse towels, or hnd
been in coniacl with rough faces. Every thing
seemed lively und cheerful, nnd I took my post by
tlie front window of the Tavern bar room, tbnl 1
■night remark ul once w lmt was going forward with,
n und without. The landlord happened to he the
orother of the groom—in the course of the morn
mg, the Sprouts assembled there pretty gradually,
to drink punch and smoke a cigar with tlio wus-to-
bo happy mail. All, of course had their “ good
clothes” on.
Towards noon, n venerable pedestruin, clad in
a thread.bare coat, stained velvet breeches, soiled
to suspect thut their relative might not be
the poor, friendless soul they supposed, one
after another half opened their doors and
stood upon tlie sill, while one or two ventured to
stroll down to the inn, whore now the three young
gentlemen who were left in the bar-room, hud to.
ken their seats and were listening to tlio converse,
lion over the way, Tho respectful familiarity with
which the gentleman treated tlie old mnn, went so
fur to confirm these suspicions, that u good den! of
nmmieuvering among tho Sprout family soon fol
lowed- The surmise w us spread uhroad nnd in
half an hour a dozen or more wero collected at tho
inn, and several ventured to go over to the stranger.
Just at this crisis a splendid gig drove up and an
elegant young man sprung out of it, exclaiming,
“Alt, Father, what’s the matter here?" “nothing
my son,” was the reply, “only oor good relations,
for tho most part Imvo forgotten us, and those who
do remember us, are so busy lliut we must go down
to the Cross Roads und put up for the night.” The
secret revealed, il was amusing to see how Ihe fa
ces of the mistnken relatives of the good innn
changed from white to red and again : they looked
at each other, lost iu amazement—stupidity enough,
to be sure. At length Charles ventured to speak :
“My dear Uncle, if you will honor my house so
much you slmll liuvo every accommodation I ran
afford.” “No, for 1 would not pul you to uny in
convenience for the world; wo will go to the Cross
Ronds.” “.ndeed, jou shall not.” suid a dozen at
once, for all the Sprouts came flocking around by
this time, every ono inviting tlteir dear relative
home—pressing him, enlrenting him, almott poll
ing him by force—insisting there was no accommo
dation at tho Cross Roads.
As this scene was going on, the strange gentle,
man whispered to Mrs. Sprout, that old Mr. Sprout
was worth a hundred lliousnnd dollars, nnd tlint his
relatives would probably lose a round sum hy this
unlucky breach. The news spread like electic fire
throughout the village, and the women came run
ning out to see tlteir rich relative.
Tears of joys, nnd “God bless you sir,” together
with the most pressing invitations, were as plenty-
now as grass blado in the meadow, Tho village
nnd all il contained, one would linve thought, was at
his service, but lie constantly shook his head—it
was too busy a time with them, and his clothos were
old, and he might disgrace them—lie would, nt any
rate go hack to the next tnvern on tlio road ; nnd
from Ills purpose ull the protestations of leisure, the
praise of bis peisoo, und even his old clothes, w ill)
tlie off -r of new ones on Ionn, in abundance, could
not move him ; nnd tlmt night he slept nt the Blue
Ridge Inn, on his return home, where lie narrated
this story iu good humor. From this place, that
morning, he hnd set out on foot for Arrow-ford,
leaving his attendants behind, that lie might make
a trial of the vuhie his long unvisiled relatives set
upon him, nnd which he deemed could only be fair,
ly estimated by presenting himself in the garb of
his original poverty.
Reader, perhaps you may smile at this simple
tale. Doubtless, you fancy the Sprouts a set of
rascals, but look at borne ; how do you esteem a
poor relative ? If your conscience does not con.
deinn you, neither do i, but set it down ns tlie truth,
tlie Sprouts are not the only people in the world
who value rich relations higher than poor ones.
“And yon, Anna, what do you say ?” asked Ma- [waistcoat, nnrf Imt and shoes at least as venerable
dame Revial, as she held out the other to her , us himself, united with u rough walking stick, ami
daughter. t seemed much fatigued, was seen travelling down
“Have I over any other will but yours, dear mo. I towards the In n.
llier?” and she pressed the hand to her lips. The novelty of the sight attracted every eyo, but
"You consent, then, Mudemoiseile ?” said Jules; (the unknown having urrived opposite the inn, tie -
“then you will allow mo to present you this ring as . liberutely unar.Mtig a pair of speetucles. and having
a mark of our engagement.” ( surveyed Iho sign attentively for a few moments,
Hehattdudher a little ring set round with tur- I made for the house. The wuy was cleared for him
quotses.
“It is Anna’s ring !” suid Madame Revial, with
surprise.
“Yes, mother,” said Anna, quite confused—“I
was obliged to sell it to replace tjio money I re
ceived for my embroidery.”
It was in purchasing il that 1 discovered your
(and when ho readied the middle of tlie liar.room,
'ho inquired for Charles Sprout, the landlord.—
Cltailes came forward—*• Cousin Charles,” said he.
| “lam very glad to see you;” reaching forth his
(hand at the -same tiino. Cousin Charles, however,
/appeared wholly indisposed to tiiis familiarity with
-one who did not like having a loose sixpence iu his
address, although you entered iu the jeweler’s book pocket, and re plied, abruptly drawing back—“who
only the name of Anna. It ia to this ring that I 1 arc you ? I don’t know you !” “Not know me ?”
owe tho happiness of again beholding you.” Ho ■ replied the old man “1 am Nicholas Sprout, your
took, as he spoke the unresisting hand of the young i falfiersown Brother, and am come down that I may
girl and placed on her huger tlio pledge of their | f e “. dl,! ? r , " fclaliunH in 1,113 plcasnm town before
| l die.” “1 guess,” said Charles, smiling contempt
ously, “it would have been us well to liave died ut
home—but h )w are we to know who you are ? A
The sumo evening, in order to fulfil the benevo
lent intentions of M. Barsac, who was obliged to
leave town for Bordeuux, Anna returned to the old
man’s lodgings. Hu was no longer to be found ;
, sertion do not pass current here when corning fro
I men of your appearance. There wus a general
, 1 V, ’ 1 titter at this colloquy among ilia young gentlemen
he had disappeared without pointing out his new , , , .. .jd 6 , 3 p
uboJe r a tj Ul one 0 f t i te 0 ij Sp,- ouls> who sat in the corner
A month after, in the humble lodging of Madame
Revial, a few were assembled to witness the sign
ing of the tnnriinge contract before tlie notary, who
soon made his appearance ; he was followed by an
elderly gentleman richly attired. As the latter
was not introduced, no person took much notice of
him, for each was loo much occupied with the cere-
mony fur which they hnd come together- Mndumo
Revial was still an invalid and had her daughter
seated near her. Jules Barsac was standing on the
other side. The notary placed his portfolio on tho
table, und took from it a marriage contract, which
he proceeded to read aloud. After having specifi
ed the little property of the bridegroom, ho went on
stranger who had assisted the poor old sufferer
The countenance of Mademoiselle Revial at
once ussumeda grave and severe expression. Her
mother perceived the clinuge, but before she could
moko on inquiry us to tlie cause, the stranger ad-
vanced and saluting her with respect, said. "Ma
dame. vou are, I presume, the mother of this young
ludy ?"
Madame Reviol made a sign of assent, and point-
ud out a chair to the stranger. H,e look it and con.
Itnued, “chance this morning brought Muderoout.
elle and myself together in affording a*«nianco to
“"“OhTwoliwT” Interrupted the voung girl whose
neck and face we. covered with blu.Ue* at thl. al-
lusion to the muroing’e adventure, “I
time to tell ypu about it- Do you remember the
poor old men who generally took up We etetton at
Spr
having looked sharply all tho while at the stranger,
left the fount! and calling to one of the boys, suid—
"This is a bod business for some of you; as sure
as the world it is Nicholas Sprout and lie’ll be easi
er admitted than gotten clear of, my word for it—
a poor soul, hu’s come down for inuinlaitinnce, no
doubt a 1 d '.he disgrace of our family comes with
him, I’ll he, off, however ; see that you don’t send
him to me.” saying which he touk his way and soon
disappeared.
A general whisper wa9 spread around, andoper-
aled like a shot among a flock of quails. In fifteen
minutes there were but three Sprout faces remain
ing. They told him of the wedding, and advised
liim U9 ho could not be entertained, in the village, to
m detail’thefortune of ilie Tady—“Madame Reviul ’ go down to granny Oca rum’s hy the cross roads,
makes over to her daughter the sum of £1,000 per " ,,U!re ct ' uld . for a trifle, stay until the busy lime
y ea *”— w »* ov «r
“You aro making a mistake, Monsieur,” inter- The poor old man, however wished to go to the
rupted Madame Revial, “formerly, indeed, I did , wedding—they objected to the distance and the hnd
intend”— i mud—his clothes, his mean appearance ; and still
The notary, wilhout paying any attention to the | persisted in his going away, until at last the tears
' rolled down his furrowed cheeks, nnd with a full
heart ho turned and went out of the house.
Compassion and curiosity induced me to follow
him, which I did. leaving the trio of young Sprouts
highly tickled with the idea of having gotten clear
of tlteir troublesome visitor. But 1 was struck,
when 1 reached the street to find every door wfitere
a Sprout lived, shut tight, every soul gono from the
sired. I stood und suw the old man go to three of
the doors in successiott and go sway. At last he
came back and snt down on the curb-stone opposite
to tlie tavern, and 1 confess my heart was too full
to go lo him, as he hung down hi* head and wiped
away the tear* with an old handkerchief.
He had not remained there long, however, be
fore a gentleman on an elegant horse rode up to
him, tlwmounted and eat beside him, sod entered
into conversation. There was something so
lingular in this, that lb* Sprouts, beginning
from money in the public fund*, for whiqh here aro
the securities.”
Saying this, he displayed the coupons on the ta
ble—and Madsine Revial, the daughter, and Jules
Barsac, ull made a movement as if about to speak,
when the aged man arose nnd made a sign for them
to remain silent. Surprised at this interference,
they awaited with interest the result of this strange
scene.
“What!” said the old man, with a broken voice,
and addressing Anno, “whsl, Mademoissello! do
you not remember your poor old man?”
While she was looking earnestly at him, trying
to rend in hi* venerable countenance the marks oi
misery and suffeting. he continued—
“You have, then, forgotten ten years of daily
kindness? You have forgotten the 3d of January
with the ataisianea you gava ao opportunely—tha
[FROM TUB NEW vonK OBSERVER.]
■Mistakes iu I-’muily Government.
It is vastly easier to find fault with oilier people’s
family government, than it is to have n perfect
system of your own. Yet this is no reason why
we should riol speuk of llicir errors, nnd avoid ilium,
and im-ndour own as we find llicin out. This is
the way lo improve.
We have given up scolding. It has neither rea
son, religion, common sense, nr experience tote,
commend it. While there uro reasons many nnd
mighty tojustify iis total und immediate abolition.
It sours the temper of tho children ; so that one
through scolding prepare the wny for two or three
more. It sours your own temper, provided it was
sweet, which is u question if you are prone lo scold;
and thus the more you will huvo lo scold, because
you linve become crosier and your children like
wise.
Scolding alienates the hearts of your children
depend upon il, they cannot love yon as well after
you have berated them soundly ns they did before.
You may reprove them with firmness nnd decision,
you may punish with severity adequate to the nu-
lure of their offences, and tlioy w ill feel llm justice
of your conduct and love you notwithstanding all.
Bui they hale scolding. It stirs up the bad blond
while il discloses your weakness nnd sinks you iu
llieir esteem. Especially at night when they ure
about lu retire, their heuris should be melted nnd
moulded with voices of kindness, that they may go
lo llieir slumbers with thoughts of love stealing
around their souls and whispering peace.
Our neighbor Mrs. C , is very uneven in
Iter system of government. Or rather, she bus no
system. She lets her children do very much os Ihoy
please, until they become so intolerably trouble
some that her putieuco is emptied completely. I lien
she dies al them like, a fury, whips them ull around,
and then sits down to linve “a minute's comfort,” as
she very pathetically expresses it. But the minute
is dreadfully shurt. They ure at mischief ugniti,
before llieir teurs aro dry, and ibis scene of forced
submission and swift rebellion is repealed, wlieru
there is no evenness of temper and system of dis-
ciplitte maintained. There is no penco in her
house, and never will be, although Mrs. C is
a very excellent woman nnd love her children dear.
•y-
Mr. D , who lives opposite, whips his chil
dren too much. They have become liickory-linr-
deiied. Ilo is not a pnssiunulo mun, but lie has
grown up wiili (lie idea that the rod is the best mod.
icine for children, and as ull children need to bo
corrected, the rod must be tlio appointed means.—
So lie whips, on all possible occasions. And (lie
occasions of course cornu often. His children
have lost tlmt sense of shame which they would
fuel most deeply had lie governed ivjili discieiibn,
and therefore (hey often full in condemnation. Ho
has mnde a great mistake, hut lie is one of those
men who know more than every body else, and
consequently will never change bis system.
Wh have been trying for lume time past to min.
gle gentleness with firmness, pulience with decis
ion, uud it seems to work well. Wo find tlint the
hearts of children are not made of stone ; they »ill
yield to the tones of kindness, and impressions made
by afieclion mid authority combined, are the im
pressions which ought lo be made en the young
hqnrt. We punish our children when they do
serve punishment, und tliov have no idea that our
love fur them will ever shield them from cliuaiise-
ment when disobedient demands the blow. This
is our system, and we mean to givo it a fair expe
riment. Thus far it works well, and find from
year to year less occasion to use the rod, and more
pleasure in observing the growing willingness of
our children lo regurd tlteir parents’ wishes us tbeir
strongest laws.
Mv Wife and I.
A short Homily oa Harrlago.
MurrlngH, suy* our esteemed cdrfes|K>nd
A. F. K., i* a civil and religious contract wl
a man i* joined und united to a woman lu.
iaw of nature and lu promote the universal lu ppi-
ness and well being of the human fumily. Tha
essence of mnrriiige consists in tha mutual cone
sent of the parlies and that reciprocity of lovd or
esteem which may be suid to constitute tile founda
tion of tlteir union. Marriage is, and has bssn,
utmost from the earliest ages, a part of the law of
nations, and is used in vurious modified forips
among all people. The Romanists, in their re
spect uud reverence for this uttcisul iiialituiie -. r >
count it a sacrament. We find, however, 'n
snuidling history that to the first inhabitants i f
Greece mariiugo was entirely unknown. No
forms ur ceremonies were used in choosing a com
panion ; they were purely governed by the simple
nictates of uuiure and the spontaneous impulse* of
affection and love. To Cecrops, King of Athens,
is duo the credit of being the first author of (hit
huiioruble institution uuioug his people. With un
common sagacity, he probably foresaw tho manifold
evils winch would eventuully spring from siucli a
stale of society, and his wisdom, no doubt, happily
suggested marriage ns the most effectual remedy
for iis prevention.
After the lapse of some years, when the com
monwealths of Greece were settled, mat riago was
very much encouraged by their laws, and tlio ab.
staining from it win, discountenanced and iu many
places severely punished.* Athens was one of (Its
most polished and cultivated nations of antiquity,
and excelled in ull the arts and sciences, which
were cveinuolly brought to no extraordinary de.
greo ul perfection. Among tltt-ir laws was on*
which especially enjoined tlmt nil comnmiiders,
orators, and persons entrusted with any public nf.
Inlr, should be married nieu—a wise uud sulutary
enactment which, we opine, would not operate io-
i-fficienlly ut the present duy. Tho English law
considers nmn ingc in no other light than as a civil
contract, and uihnvs it to he good und va!id- when
the purlies ut the time of milking it wero wilting
ami able to contract, and actually did conlrucl, in
the proper form and solemnities required by law.
We can conceive no deed of greater mural lurpi.
ludo limn ffir man or woman to stuud up before tha
holy u.tur nod solemnly pronounce vows with their
lips, which their hearts never iu the remoiest dev
gree respond to. The utter baseness and crinii-
uuiiiy ol suclt acts arc ton obvious to require cum-
meuls. And yet liiuro is u species of moral de
linquency pertaining lo inurriiige which transcends
even dial in wickedness. We allude lo cases in
which ut leust one of die parties is so utterly aban
doned ut.-I unprincipled as to go before the altur
uud deliberately puijure him ur herself iu die 6iglit
of God mid mun. if it is wrong for man to marry
u woman lie cannot esteem or love, how much
more is this wrung aggravated when lie elands up
and solemnly pledges himself lo eternal constancy
and faith, ' lieu ut tlio snrne time he is diligently
prosecuting nu amour with u woman lie really loves,
but for some reason he cannot many. And is not
lids crime greatly ungmcutcd by the wilful and
deliberate manner in which il is perpetrated 1 Is
not die act rendered mure flugituus front being the
result ol design und premeditation ? For instance,
a man wins lor some selfish or sinister end the af.
fcciions of an innocent und confiding girl. Hs
loves another, but self-interest prompts him to re>
g.ird tlmt stcoiidury and suboidiiiate to tlio great
end lie lias in view. Ho thinks mailing of disap
pointing one lieurl uud deceiving tlio oilier; he ia
only intent un the advantages of a wealthv alli
ance, and lor might else lie cures not u straw, H.s
heart uciuuljy Is in die keeping of another, yet the
powerful incentive of weullh urges liim on, und he
stuud* up before u minister of God. nnd with dar
ing eil'miitery deliberately and (lisdnrlly brands
himself us a perjuror and u iiur. We involuntarily
shrink from the contemplation of suclt moral ob
liquity in tidier sex, und ure only consoled in the
happy reflection thut in suclt instances of human
depravity arc few and uiicummoii.
Another fruitful source of unhappiness it) the
married stale tiuws from the singular und urtac-
countable dtspuiiiy which not unlreqneully exists
between imuiui.il wife. Il-.vv often do we observe
iu die vminus walks of life a sedate, taciturn, un*
ussinnii.g kind nf a man united to u woman, diu-
inctricu.ly opposite to him in those qualities. Then
again we sec men of die highest standing nnd most
eminent talent forming alliances with women who
In point ul intellect und understanding are fur below
mediocrity. Yet suclt aiiuimtloiis marriages aro
of frequent occurrence, and seem prompted by
one of those singular vagaries of tho human mind
which can never be sutUfuctoiily accounted fur.
Such ill.assorted marriagus, however, butb txperi-
on. u und observation teach us ure nut always pro
ductive of pure uud genuine felicity. The parties
possess no leelings in common. Therein no con.
gruity of ideas and similarity of tastes. They
cannot sil down uud on some fiivoritc and congeni
al topic mingle llieir souls li-.gi-tlier. Their ideas
and views ure wholly conflicting and opposite, and
tlteir opinions are constantly jarring und clashing
with each oilier. This uimulurai stale of things
gives bit ill evcniuuliy to contention und uliercsiion
uud gent-tufty leuds’to the must deplorable and un
happy consequences. The purest and most unal
loyed felicity in Ihe married state flows from gen.
nine and mutual love uud respect. Love sinouihei
nil asperities and hides ail deli cts. It is the Pro
methean fire which oifloses n halo of blissful joy
around the paths of life, and luping the soul in ely.
sium creules a purudise un earth.
N. Y. Sun. Mer.
A Joxu. —A Paris paper has the following : ‘An
old juke wus practised last Wednesday, on a now
comer lo Paris, Lady Campbell, who for that even-
log had ssnt out invitations to *11 the elites of the
capita). The candle* were lit, the supper prrptr.
A Thrilling Sketch.—It vvus u calm and love
ly siimiiicr’s eve. The soft and hazy twilight,
niyalieo in iis bewitching and shadowy dimness,
veiled the gorgeous beuulies of earth und sky, and
slept gently upon tha cloud cupped hills nnd ver
dant vullius of a landscape teeming with a diversi
ty of rural and picturesque beauties. The soft sir
ol night, freighted wiili the sweet und balmy exha-
lutious ol flowers und shrubs, breathed in gentle
z-pbers through the trellis wurKul an arbor, and
luiinud llm lovely clu ck of a maiden, in ihe veiy
zenith of her youth and beauty, Bite was reclin
ing upon one of tlie seals in an attitude of most
profound and graceful contemplation. One beau
tiful band was lifted lo her peerless brow, the oth
er drooped beside her, and exhibited to view an
arm, the exquisite proportions of which a sculptor
might envy. She nppi.nrcd lu be gazing listlessly
into the- garden, for there vvus a vacancy in her eyes
und u fixedness in her lucks, which seemed to in
dict,lo extreme thoughtfulness and abstraction.
The bloom of sixteen sun,liters bad seurcely rip
ened her beauty, uud mui.tled upon her soft and
iiaiiu.sk chunk, and yet there vvus u tinge of sstl-
uess upon tier po.ished brow, which told that her
yooog lieurl bad not escaped the corroding touch
of cure nod sorrow. Her bright eyes t-paikltd
with virtuous imhgniiiiun, ns the memory of her
wrongs lose before her, mid she heaved a diawri
sigli, uud bowed her Iliad in thu grief nnd bitter
ness id in‘1 heart. PieM i.ily a slight noise canted
ner to stun, '.ud m did, g ,u she exposed lo view u
figure of the must limbic* uud fnseinuliog beauty.
Footstep* seemed to approach. She bent ntrbtsu.
iiful bend ci.gutiy forward, her eye* dilnlt-d, her
bosom heaved, tier whole frame expanded with in.
tco*e uud breathless emotion, ‘Tom,’she exclaim-
ed, in u pettish and querulous voice, *your nasty Old
black sow hn* rooted up *11 lbs ouions.’
•i «<*•
