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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 «<*•