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VOLUME X. TEHMS! Thk Madison Family Visitor is published weekly (every Saturday morning,) at TWO DOLLARS per annum, mcuruiUy in udcanct. Fifty numbers in the year are mailed to each subscriber. OUcvnUnuancet. —Notice must be given at the expiration «»f subscription and ail arrruru<je*yjt<i t or subscribers held liable accordingly. S lbscrib.Ts wishing the direction of their paper changed, will notify us from what office it is to be transferred. Cj>*.n *n* Uio ut. —Addressed, post paid, to the Malison Fain.ly Visitor, wUh Uu tluthvr'* namt in every instance. 15T AH J ■jb Work and other business in the l*rmtm£ line, will meet with prompt attention an 1 faithful execution. ■if .■>,>jci.n.-i»s of .mr Hook, Card, Circular, ltill and Programme Printing call be seen at the O.hce. A latrtititnmt* conspicuously inserted atsl per fcn iare for the lir.it and fifty cents per square for each subsequent insertion. ' Those sent without a kpieiiic ilioii of the number ol'insertions desired, will be continued "tiUforl'id." Notices us the sales of band and Negroes, by Ad ninistrators, Executors, or Guardians, must j>e p tblisU.nl roarr oats previous to the day ot **N itices for the sale of Personal Property must hi given at least res hats previous to the sale. N itice t> Debtors and Creditors of an Estate m nt be published rouTt uxvs. Notice tint application will be made to the C.urt of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Nc gr >es, in nt be published weekly for two months. Citations for Litters of Administration must be publish,l ruiarx oers—for Dismission from Ad mi lixtr ition, MONTm.r six months—for D.smis aioa from Guardianship ronrr uavs. R ties for Korecl.isurcof Mortgage must be pub gj.be 1 monthly rou roun months —for cstnblisli ih f lout papers, for the full space of thk** months -fir c imnrlling titles from Executors or Admin istrators, where a bond has been given by the de ee.sed, tha full space ofmu months. Public itions will always be continued accord ing to these, the legal reqiiireineius, unless other 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.