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VOLUME X.
TEHMS!
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wise ordered.
. SELECTED POETRY.
THE NAME OF WIFE.
BY MART ORACH.
*T;» no light and idic thing, mother,
To take that nacrid na.: v,
And the head is bowed in humbleness,
In sweet and tender ttlinmc,
To .alutre another’:* lot, it# jova,
Its sorrowa and its strife,
Before the h«dy altar stand
And take the name of u i/t.
With a funu-t that is all pure, mother,
.Should nr take that holy name;
With a love that will endure, mother,
Through glory and through shame.
To breathe that solemn vow, “ to love,
To honor and obey,"
’Tin no light and idic thing, mother—
Oh, urge inc not, I pray.
Like a frightened bird,my heartbeat* not,
When his manly step draws nigh ;
My brow is calm, and my check burns not
Beneath bis earnest e\e;
With shrinking heart and trembling lip*,
Those solemn words to «ay,
’Ti* no light and idle thing, mother—
Oh, urge me not, I pray.
Ilia is a lofty mind, mother,
A pure und noble heart,
Yet we know that love is blind, mother,
With mine they have no part,
hbnll I with false and hollow words
That fervent love repay ?
’Tis no light and idle thing, mother.
Oh, urge me not, I pray.
TIIE MOSS ROSE.
The most rose that she gave me,
When we were both at school,
When she was like a singing-bird,
And I was like a—fool I
The moss rose that she gave me,
Alas! for me and her,
Too late I learned the lunguage
Os the little messenger.
The moss rose that she gave me,
I folded in ray book,
And years from then, I saw it all!
1 The meaning and ihe look;
But, ah! the days had long gone by,
When we were both at school,
When she was like a singing-bird,
And I was like a—fool!
The moss rose that she gave me.
That in my book I thrust,
The stem is white and broken,
And the leaves are blushing dust;
About my temples I can trace
The gathering threads of snow,
And the singing-bird, from sorrow,
Flew to Heaven, years ago.
THE CRUCIFIXION.
The morning sun,
In splendor bright,
Gilt Salem’s tow’r*
With living light;
And streak’d the fair ethereal blue
With tints of gold and purple hue;
Earth bloom’d in loveliness and grace,
And rob’d in sraMes was Nature’s face;
But soon the fading sun grows pale,
Quenched are his beams o'er tower and rale.
The quaking earth
Is sunder rent—
The rocky hills
The battlement
The bursting tombs
Disclose their dead;
The saints forsake
Their earthly bed;
And midnight gloom
Veils earth and skies,
For "Lo! the God
Os Nature 4!ee*
£1 Smtlljmt lUei'kti) Ciicvanj anti ittisaUnnemts 3 journal, for % fjome Circle.
A CHOICE SKETCH.
A SKETCH FROM LIFE.
At five o'clock on Thanksgiving morn
ing, Deacon Wilson arose as lie wm
wont, no holiday making any change in
his hours. Yet now he no longer sprang
from his bed witli the alacrity which
changed duty into pleasure; he rose be
cause imperious duty commanded it.
There were the cattle to lie fed and
watered, and the poultry to receive the
same attention, and there was moreover
a fire to lie made in the huge old kitcheu
fire place, for tile Deacon had now no
servant or helper, and in the grey winter
of his life, the whole burthen of manag
ing Ivis place had fallen on his shoulders.
Fortunately they were broad and strong
—fortunately, his constitution was good,
his spirits elastic, and his piety sincere,
for his burthens and trials were indeed
weighty. H« had been comparatively
rich—he was now in embarrassed cir
cumstances, He had looked forward to
the time wlnn a soil should relieve |iiin
of tile most laborious ot his toils, while a
daughter performed the same kind office
for his wife. Both had been disappoint
ed—and now tlie old coupe were the
solitary tenants of that lone farm house.
The Deacon went meciianicallv about
his morning labors; lie drove the eattle
to tile water tank; lie supplied them
with flesh fodder, and after seeing that
they were comfortable, returned to the
old kitchen, lly this lime the good
wife Imd prepared a breakfast, arid a ge
nial fire was diffusing its heat through
the ..apartment.
The old couple sat down to breakfast,
after a blessing by the old fanner, hut
the mi ni passed by in silence. It was
followed by a fervent prayer, and the
reading of a portion of Scripture. After
this they adjourned to the sitting room*
where a good file was burning, and
wbelt* the old dame assume* her knit
ting, one of those incomprehensible
pieces of female industry, which seems to
have neither beginning nor end.
“ Well," said she with a sigh, “This is
Thanksgiving day. It does’nt seem like
old times at all. We used to have a
house full of company, fiolieksoine young
folks, and cheerful old people; and now
we are all alone, atone."
“ Last Thin.k-giv ng day," said the
old man, “ih re was one with us who
seemed to my old eyes like an angel
of light, with her fairy golden hair float
ing like a glory on her shoulders, and
her little foot, making music as she mov
ed about the. old house. But even then
there was a hectic flush upon her cheek,
like the red upon her cheek, like the
red upon the maple leaf in autumn.—
When the January snows lay deep on
the hills and in the hollows, we carii and
her to her last home—but God’s will
las done.”
"You forget that wo have another
child alive.”
“No, I do not forget it,” said the old
man bitterly. “There is one living
somewhere, who lias brought disgrace
upon our name, who has forgotten his
parents and his God; who has drunk
deep of the cup of iniquity, and who has
brought ruin and woe upon his name
and family,"
“ Do not speak harshly of poor Wil
liam,’’ pleaded (he mother.
“\\ by should I not ? Was he not
insensible to kindness—steeled against
affection ? Did he not scatter my hard
earnings to the wind ? Is it not to him
that I owe the prospect of beggary and
destitution i lietnemlier the first of
February. Thai is the last day of grace
If the money comes not then, and God
knows w hence it is to come, we are
are houseless beggars. Who will care
for us then
“ God will care for us," said the aged
woman, raising her eyes reverentia ly to
heaven.
The old man made no reply, for his
utterance was choked. At that moment
the old clock that stood ticking in the
corner, struck the hour of nine. The
Deacon rote.
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FERRUARY 9, 1856.
"It is time to harness old Dobbin,”
said lie, “for we have a long way to ride
to meeting, and the roads are in a bad
condition.”
Their preparations were soon made,
and the old couple, poorly but decently
Htlired, sallied forth to their public de
votions. The services ended, the deacon
and his wife, as they issued from the
porch, were kindly greeted by many old
friends and neighbors, more than one of
whom pressed them to come and partake
of their Thanksgiving cheer. But the
Deacon shook his head.
“ Many thanks, my friends,” said lie,
“but ever since I have been a house
holder, I have kept my
home, and I shall continue to do so, so
long as I have a house remaining over
iny head.”
So they rode home together. While
the Deacon drove up to the barn to put
up his horse, the old lady opened the
back door, which was always on the
latch, and entered the kitchen. As sho
did so, she started back. A stranger
was seated by the kitchen fire, who rose
on her entrance, lie was a tall, stalwart
man, dressed in a rough suit, with a
broad-leafed bat ; his countenance em
browned by exposure to the sun and
wind, and his up|K-r lip almost concealed
bv a heave and luxuriant moustache.
“Good morning, ma'am,” lie said, with
some embarrassment. “ Finding no one
answered my knocks, l took the liberty
of walking in. 1 believe I owe you no
apology, for 1 have officiated as turnspit,
and saved your Thanksgiving turkey
from burning."
“ 1 am very much obliged to you, 1
am sum, answered the old lady, pulling
off her mittens. “ But did you want to
see me, or the deacon ?”
~ “ Both of you,” answered the stranger.
“ You bad a son, 1 believe?”
" Y’es,” replied Mrs. Wilson, witli
hesitation, and easting down her eyes.
“ I hnve seen him lately.”
“Where?” inquired the mother, with
increased agitation.
“ In California.” *
“ Was he doing Well ?”
“Admirably. Mother! mother,” he
added impetuously, throwing back his
hat, “don’t you know me—-don’t you
know your William?”
lie rushed into his mother’s arms, and
was clasped to her healing heart, while
the tears streamed from the eyes of both.
After the first greeting was over, the
young man asked :
" Where is sister Emmy ?’’
“ Gone!” answered the mother, as her
tears flowed forth anew.
William sank into a seat, and hiding
his face in his hands, wept bitterly. The
mother did not attempt to check him
She knew those tearagkere precious.
“And my father (Tasked the young
man, lie regained his composure.
“lie is well. But you had betler re
tire lor awhile. Go to your old room,
my son, it is just as you left it, and wait
'till I summon you.”
It was with a fluttering heart that the
overjoyed mother went about the pre
paration for dinner, and when the table
was neatly set, every dish in its place,
and the turkey smoking Imt, waiting to
be carved, she summoned the old man.
He made his appearance at once, and
took his seat. Glancing round the table,
he said :
“ What is this, wife, you have set
plates for three!”
“I thought, perhaps somebody might
drop in unexpectedly.”
“There is little danger—hope,l mean
—of that,” answered the Deacon, sadly.
At this juncture, Mrs. Wilson, with a
mysterious expression, rang the bell,
with which, in happier days, she was
wont to summon her tardy children to
their meals.
It was answered by the appearance
of the long-lost William.
The Deacon, who recognised him after
a moment, gazed upon him with a stern
eye, but witli a quivering lip that betray
ed the force, of his ill-suppressed emo
tions.
“So you have come back at last,” be
said.
“ Yes, father, but not as I left, you-
Father, last Thanksgiving day I went
into my lonely room, and tL ere, kneeling
down, addressed myself to Heaven, and
solemnly abjured the fatal clip which had
brought ruin upon me, and woe upon
this once happy family. From that day
to this I have not touched a drop. Is
my probation enough ? Can you now
welcome back your soli ntid bless him i”
“ Bless him! Yes, yes, bless you, my
dear, dear boy !” said the old Deacon,
placing his trembling hand on the dark
locks of the pleader, “ you are welcome!
William, though you come only to wit
ness the downfall of our house.”
“ Not so, father,” answered the young
man, joyously, “ I have come back to
save you—to atone for my prodigality,
for all my errors. It was this hope that
sustained me in the lone heart of Sierra
j Nevada, when 1 was panting with thirst
and dying with hunger. Thoughts of
home, of you and mother, and God’s
angels, enabled me to conquer fortune.
1 have come back with a store of gold
—you shall not be a beggar in your old
age; father, wo shall keep the farm.”
After this it is unnccssary to add that
joy entered the old homestead. It was
| a chastened joy, for the shadows of the
' past yet mingled with the sunshine of
'the present; hut the felicity which at
| tended the prodigal’s return was enough
lo compensate for many sorrows.
This Hand Never Struck Me. —We
recently heard the following touching
incident:
A little boy had died, llis body was
laid out in a darkened, retired room,
waiting to he laid in the cold, lone grave.
IJis afflicted mother, and bereaved little
sister went in to look at the sweet face
of the precious sleeper, for his face was
beautiful even in death. As they stood
gazing on tiie face of one so beloved
and cherished, the little girl asked to
shake his hand. The mother at first
did not think it best, hut the child re
peated the request, and seemed very
anxious about it; she took the cokb
bloodless hand of her sleeping hoy, and
placed it in the hand of his weeping sis
ter.
The dear child looked at it a moment,
caressed it fondly, and then looked up
to her mother through tears of affliction
and love, and said, “mother, this hand
never strnek me.”
What could have been more touching
and lovely ?
There are 500 miles of streets and
1,000 miles of pavements in New York.
The Tribune estimate- the cost of freeing
the latter from the snow that fell on Sat
urday, at 850,000.
The Snow in Virginia. —The snow
during the recent storm fell lo the depth
of eight inches at Winchester and twelve
inches at Petersburg. Snow has never
fallen to this depth in that vicinity, says
the Petersburg Express, since 1829.
Snow fell in Wheeling on Monday, and
had reached a depth of 2 feet between
that city and Cumberland.
The Rock Island Argus is glad Ex-
Gov. Epaphroditus Ransom was defeated
as a candidate for Judge, in Michigan,
because “a man who will take a news
paper four or five years, and then refuse
to pay for it, and swear he never had it,
deserves defeat.”
“ Bridget,” said a lady to her servant
Bridget Conley, “ who was that man
you were talking with so long at the
gate last night ? ”
“ Sure, no one but my oldest brother.”
“ What is his name ?
“ Barney Octoolan, mam.”
“ Indeed, how comes it that the name
is not the same as yours ?”
“ Troth, mam,” replied Bridget, “be
has been married.”
A grocer in Dublin advertises whiskey
for sale, ‘drank by but late Majesty.*
CHOICE MISCELLANY.
Traits and Personal Attributes
OF TUB
“FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY."
BT G. XV. CURTIS.
One afternoon several young gentle
men, visitors at Mount Vernon were en
gaged in pitching the bar, one of the
athletic sports coininou in those days,
when suddenly the Colonel appeared
nmong them. He requested to be shown
the pegs that marked the bounds of our
efforts; then, smiling and without pull
ing off his coat, held out his hand for
the missile. “No sooner,” observed the
narrator, with emphasis, “ did the heavy
iron bar feel the grasp of liis mighty
hand, than it lost the power of gravita
tion and whizzed through the air, stri
king the ground far, very far, beyond our
utmost limits. We were indeed amazed,
as we stood around all stripped to the
puff, with shirt sleeves rolled up, mid
having thought ourselves very clever
fellows, while the Colonel on retiring
pleasantly observed, “ When you beat
iny pitch, young gentlemen, I’ll try
again.”
In giving a graphic description of the
stature find form of Washington, we
give not only the result of personal ob
servation and experience of many years,
hut information derived.from the highest
authority—a favorite nephew.
Major Lawrence Lewis asked his uncle
I what was his height in the prime of life ?
He replied, “ In iny best days, Lawrence
I stood six feet and two inches in ordi
nary shoes.” We know that lie mea
sured by n standard precisely six feet
when laid out in death. Os his weight
we are an evidence, having heard him
say to Crawford, Governor of Canada, in
1799: “My weight, in my best days,
sir, never exceeded from two hundred
and ten to twenty." liis form was
unique, unlike most athletic frames that
expand at the shoulders and then gather
in at the hips.
The form of Washington deviated
from the general rule, since it descended
from the shoulders to the hips in per
pendicular lines, the breadth of the trunk
being nearly as great at the one as the
other. His limbs were long, largo and
sinewy ; in his lower limbs, he was what
is usually called straight limbed. His
joints, feet and hands were large and
could a cast have been made of liis right
hand, so far did its dimensions exceed
nature’s model, that it would have been
preserved in museums for ages, as the
anatomical wonder of the eighteenth cen
tury. LaFayetto remembered this re
markable hand, when, during his tri
timpli in America, he said to us in the
portico at
in 1784 I was first introduced to you by
the good General; it is a long while
ago; you were den a very little gentle
man, rigged out in cap and feather, and
held by one finger of the General’s
mighty hand. It was all you could do
at dal time, my dear sir.”
The eyes of the chief were a light
grayish blue, and deep sunken in their
sockets, giving the expression of gravity
and thought. Stuart painted those eyes
a deeper blue, saying, in a hundred years
they will have faded to their right color.
His hair was a hazel brown, and very
thin in his latter days. In his move
ments he preserved in a remarkable de
gree, mid to advantage, the elastic step
that he had acquired in service on the
frontier.
Being ordered one morning very early
into the library at Mount Vernon, a spo'.
that none entered without orders, the
weather being warm, wo found the
chief very much undressed, and while
looking at his manly framo we discover
ed the centre of his chest was indented.
This is an exception to the general rule
laid down by anatomists, that where the
human frame possesses great muscular
power the chest should rather be round
ed out and protuberant than indented.
Wo were equally surprised to find how
thin he w’<? in person, being 1 , with flw
absence of flesh, literally a man of
“ thews and sinews.” He wore around
his neck the miniature portrait of liis
wife. This he had worn through all the
vicissitudes of his eventful career, from
the period of his marriage to the “ last
days at Mount Vernon.”
In the appearance of Washington there
was nothing of bulkiness, but there was
united all that was dignified and grace
ful, while his air and manner were at
once noble and commanding. No one
approached him that did not feel for
him, as Lord Erskine observed, “a de
gree of awful reverence.” He wore a
sword witli peculiar grace. The Vis
compte do Neuilles said it was because
“ the man was made for the sword, and
not the sword for the man ”
LaFayette, not long after the war of
the Revolution, wrote a letter to Colonel
Trumbull, urging him to paint an eques
trian portrait of the Chief as lie appeared
on I lie field of Monmouth. The illus
trious Frenchman, America’s great bene
factor, said to us : “I was a very young
Major-General on that memorable day,
and liad a great deal to do, but took
time, amid the heat and fury of the fight
to gaze upon and admire Washington!
•as, mounted on a splendid charger cov
ered with foam, he rallied our line with
words never to bo forgotten. ‘Stand
past, ray boys, and receive your enemy ;
the Southern troops are advancing to
support you 1’ I thought then hs 1 now
do,” continued the good LaFayette,
“ that never have I seen so superb a
man.”
When this noble Empire shall have
achieved its high destiny, and embracing
a Continent, attained a power and gran
deur unexampled in the history of na
tions, the future American, from the top
most height of liis greatness, will look
back upon the early days of his country
aiid call up the “ time-honored " memo
ries of tiie heroic era and the age of
Washington ; and, when contemplating
the image of Peter Patrie, perpetuated
by the mellowed tints of the canvass and
freshness of time enduring bronze, with
honest pride of an ancestry ho will ex
claim, my forefather was the associate of
that great man in the perils and glories
of the struggle for American indepen
dence. Lot there be undying honor to
the memory of Washington.
Ever green be the laurels that deck
his trophied tomb; ever living be the
homage in the hearts of liis countrymen
and mankind for the patriot, tiie hero,
and the sage who, Under Providence,
with humble means so much contributed
to raise his native land from the depths
of dependence and to place her in the
rank of nations; who presided over her
civic destinies in the dawn of the great
experiment of self-go"ernrtient; and who,
after an illustrious life spent iti the ser
vice of liberty and mankind, and without
a cloud to dim the lustre of his frme, de
scended to the gfave with the august
title of the Father of his Country.
Whitewash for Out-Houses
and Fences.
Take a clean barrel that will hold wa
ter; put into it half a bushel of quick
lime, and slack it by pouring over it boil
ing water, sufficient to cover it four or
five inches deep, and stirring it until
slaked. When quite slaked, add two
pounds of sulphate of zinc, which may
be had at any of the druggists, and one
of common salt, which in a few days will
cause whitewash to harden on tiie wood
work. Add sufficient water to bring it
to the consistency of thick whitewash.
To make the above wasli of a pleasant
cream color, add 3 lbs. yellow ochre.
For fawn color, add 4 lbs. umber, 1 lb,
Indian red, and 1 lb. lampblack.
For grey or stone color, add 4 lbs. raw
umber and 2 lbs. lampblack.
The color may be put on with a com
mon whitewash brush, and will be found
much more durable thau common white
wash.
The man who had no tnusio in bis soIe t
ftoasrtjed katfeer.
NUMBER 6
WIT AND HUMOR
Speaking against long prayers, Elder
Knapp says f
“When Peter was endeavoring to
walk on the water to meet his
and was about sinking, had his suppli
cation been as long as the introduction
to some of our modern prayers, before
he got through he would have been fifty
fttt under water.'”
A young gent in Schenectady, suffer
ing from a too strong sensation of the
more tender feelings, defines his com
plaint as an attack of /ass-itude.
An Aphorism for Young People.—
People who wish to lead peaceful live*
should never go to balls—for hops pros
duee great bitterness. -
“ You are a shoemaker 1” said a ma
gistrate the other day, addressing the
man at the bar. “ Yes, sir,” was the re
ply, “ a Awse-shoemaker.”
“ Sit down," said a judge to an imper*
tinent limb of the law, “1 cannot enter
tain your ridiculous proposition."
* But my necessity ”
*• Yes, yes, you'r necessity—l under
stand—l admit you are a necessity your
seltj or at least the next thing to it, for
necessity knows no la w.”
Some of our contemporaries are dis
cussing the question, which is the safest
seat in ease of a railroad collision ? We
should choose one about one hundred!
yards fiom the railroad.
An editor says he kissed a damsel
check that was covered with a paste of
viimillion and chalk, and, as a conse
quence, had the painter's choliu for ft
week. Young men will take warning.
A boy at school iu the we.-t, when
called out to recite his lesson in history,,
was asked—“ What is the German Diet
composed of ?” The boy promptly re
plied—“ Sourkrout, schnapps, lager beer,
and nix couierouek.” Boy promoted.,
instanter.
What is the difference between ft
butcher and a gay young lady ? One
kills to dress, and the other dresses to
kill.
A simple friend desires to know wheth
er the abolition of flogging in the navy
includes “ spanking breezes."
The greatest organ in the world—the
organ of speech, in woman—an organ,
too, without a stop.
Saxe gives the following advice to the
rising generation 5
In guing to parties just mind what you are at.
Beware of .your head and take care of vour hat,
Lest you find that a favorite sou of your mother
Uus an ache in the one and a brick in tl.e other.
Here is, truly, a quaint and beautiful
proverb—
He that in the world would rise,
Must read the news uud advertise.
Jack Dauuister praising the hospital
ity of tile Irish, after one of his trips to
Ireland, was asked if he had been in
Cork. “No,” replied the wit, “ but I.
saw a great many drawings of it."
A certain newspaper in Cleveland, 0.,
having advertised that they would send --
a copy of their paper gratis for one year
to any person who would send them »
club of ten, received the ten spot of clubs
from a young lady iu that country.
A gentleman passing through a potato ,
field observed an Irishman planting some
potatoes. He inquired what kind ho
had there ? “ Raw ones, to ho sure, if
they were biled they wouldn’t grow,”
was the reply.
A western editor thus delivers himself:
“ We would say to the individual who
stole our shirt ofl the pole, while we were .
waiting for it to dry, that we sincerely
hope that the collar may cut his throat.”
The Editor of the Clinton Courant
says the Man in the Moon is sitting up
o' nights with the “ Lady o’ the Lake.”
Should they marry, “Children of the
Mist” will follow, of course.
Why was St. Paul like a horse? Be
cause he loved Timothy.
Why is the American Flag like the
Atlantic 6cean ? Because it will never
cease to wave.