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VOLUME X. terms: The Madison Family Visitor is published weekly (every Saturday morning,) at TWO DOLLARS per annum, invariaUy in advance. Fifty numbers in the year are mailed to euch subscriber. />.• *Tnfltf MCfifi■ v must be given at the expiration and all arrearages paid, or subscribers held liable accordingly. Subscribers wishing the direction of their paper changed, will notify us from what office it is to be transferred. C'iJhmunlcntio.ts. — Addressed, post paid, to the Mi Jison Family Visitor, with the author's name in every instance. *:*r“’All Job Work and other business in the Printing line, will meet with prompt attention and faithful execution. Specimens of our Book, Card, Circular, Bill and Programme Printing can be seen at the Office. Advertisements conspicuously inserted at per •quare for the first and fifty cents per square for each subsequent insertion. Those sent without a specification of the number of insertions desired, will be continued “ titl/nrUd .” Notices of the sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators. Executors, or Guardians, must be published forty days previous to the day of sale Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be given at least ten days previous to the sale. Notice to Debtors' and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Csurt of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published weekly fofTWO months. Citation* for Letters of Administration must be published thirty days—tor Dismission from Ad ministration, MONTHLY Six MONTHS -for DisntiS •ion from Guardianship forty days. Bubs for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub lished monthly for Font months —for establish ing lost papers, for the full space of three months —for compelling titles from Executors «>r Admin istrator*. where a bond has been given by the de ceased, tho full space of THREE MONTI’S. Publication.* will always he .continued accord ing to these, the legal r -qu'.rcments, unless other wise ordered. [From, the ZouUpilU Journal] m TIIE STAR AND THE LILY. It was an evening calm and still, As e’er held earth in sunny fold ; The azure curtains of the sky Were fringed with gleaming gem* of gold ; The wandering airs of night grew faint Upon the silver-lighted stream ; The fragrant breath of roses came, Like thoughts that weave a poet’s dream : S .ft clouds wore fioa+ißg olf t.' play, Like glorious birds just loose from Heaven, While high above their fleecy folds There gleamed a loving star of even. Euch night his smiling rays came out, And sought a lowly murmuring stream, Along whose banks, soft fleeced with light, Fair lilies drooped their heads to dream. One lily, pule and dewy-eyed, Woo’d by the moonlight colored air, Poured from her heart the wistful love That long had lain entangled there. ’Mid odors gleams, ami raiirimitings, That to the shrine of night belong, She breathed in fragrant, passioned sighs, The love that thrilled her soul to song. That loving star, so pure and bright, Seemed cold and coy as maiden fears ; Yet still she raised her heavenward eyes, And brimmed her lily cup with tears. And when his beams came trembling down To kiss the wave that laved her feet, She slowly drooped her snowy brow, Till wave, and star, and lilly met; That loving touch so wildly thrilled, She wished nor prayed for greater bliss Than fondly look the love she felt, And nightly bend beneath his kiss. When morning came, with blushing hues, The star would pale upon her heart, But nor the memory of liis beams— They grew to be of life a part, E eti in the garish hours of noon; But daylight’s veil of golden hue Concealed his loving smiles from her. Thus passed the weary lagging hours— Pale flower below, and star above, Till pitying angel from the sky Stooped down and blessed their dream of love. He took the star-beams from their throne And placed them in the lilly’s breast, Where now no more they wandering roam, But there forever sweetly rest. A tiny vase of fragrance rare Contains that glowing star of love; Unfold its leaves, and nestling there, Behold a snowy, spotless dove; Enshrined within the lilly’s cup, With folded wings and dewy eyes, It seems to me a sacred thing, An emblem sent from Paradise— A beauteous type of woman’s love, Deep bidden from the world apart; A dove that never tries its wing, But broods and nestles in the heart. SONG. Meet me by the running brook, Where the drooping willow grows, Meet me in the shady nook, Where the silver waters flow. Friends we love are broken hearted, Smiles have flown and tears have started, Since the time when last we parted, In the days of long ago. Meet me when the starlight plays O’er the wavelets bright and low; Tell of our youthful days, E’er the heart knew pain or woe, Joy will come to charm or leave us, Lingering hope will still deceive us; Life has nothing dark to grieve us, In the days of long ago. what’s honor? Not to be captious, not unjustly fight; ’Tis to confess what’s wrong, and do what s right. Cl Soitlp'vn 'TUcfkh) Litertmj emtr JllisecUtmcmts Soitrmil, for i\)i ijomc Circle. A Sporting Adventure. BY X BACKWOODSMAN. I Lave often seen account of “hair breadth ’scapes,” in cases, which very wise people—who know nothing about it—in more civilized places, have charged to the marvellous, but which we ot the woods—at least many of ns— know to be not only possible, but highly probable, and in some instances by sad experience. In illustration of which, I will endeavor to describe an adventure of my own. In 1837 I resided on the banks of the Mississippi, (C. W.,) as I had done from my infancy. I was then, about twenty years ago, stout and ath letic, and passionately fond of wild scenery and sporting adventures. The month of October had arrived—the great season for partridge and doe’r shooting; and in accordance with my almost daily custom, I sallied out with my fowling piece—one barrel containing a ball, and the other small shot. I had succeed ed in bagging some small wares, and in passing a creek, observed a racoon busily employed turning over the stones, in search of frogs, worms, &c. Without giving the matter much thought, I suc ceeded in removing “I’rn Minor” to another if not a better world ; and being rather corpulent to carry through the woods, hung him upon a sapling, in tending to send for him next day ;---iuid as the part of the country in which I was, did not afford very large game, 1 charged the second barrel with shot also. I had proceeded perhaps a mile, and was crossing the outskirts of a Tamarack swamp, through a succession of narrow and rocky glens, with high and preci pitous sides, and had sprung from a rather high rock into a rift of not more than three feet wide, when I perceived the eyes of an immense buck glaring at me, at not. over ten feet distance. A glance showed me that lie had no means of escape except over myself; and aware of the desperation of this otherwise timid creature, under such circumstances, and at this particular season, I formed my resolution in an instant. I cocked both locks, placet) my fingers on the triggers, and resolved to wait his spring, as I did not think my charges would injure him except at the very muzzle. I knelt upon one knee and watched his eye. All this took place in a very tew seconds. At length the haunches and ears were drawn back, and with a tremendpus snort, lie bounded in the air, with the evident intention of descending upon me. Quick as lightning both barrels were discharged full into his breast, and I re ceived a shock as if from a pile engine, which deprived me of all sensation.— About three hours after, as near as I could judge bv comparing dates after wards, I was brought to a state of partial sensibility by something licking my face, and something growling and scratching my clothes; but being very faint, I did not look up till the enormous paws tore my flesh with them. Then, indeed, I did look up—when what was my horror to see a huge bear, coolly licking the blood from my lacerated breast. Weakness more than self-possession kept me still a moment, while two half-grown cubs were tearing and scratching my legs and feet. The desperation of the case arous ed me to sudden energy, and I slowly stretched my left hand (my right arm was broken) to my back for my hunting knite, resolved, if such can be called a resolution, to save my life, if possible. I had got it drawn from the sheath, and was watching a favorable opportunity to plunge it into the brute’s throat, when, with a frightful roar, it fell across my body, apparently in the very agonies of death. A fearful struggle ensued, w-hicli soon put a stop to my feeble exertions. When I next came to my senses, I was seated, leaning against a rock, and a stalwart Indian youth, who had been my companion in many a hard day’s hunt, was busily employed in binding up my woutids with leaves and strips torn from his own scanty garments. Not being able to take me home that night, he made a fire, and nursed me MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1856. as a mother would a child, and next day, carried me by easy stages to my parents. It appeared that he had called for me, but being told that I was only gone a few minutes, thought he would make up to me. He accidentally came to where I had shot and hung up the raccoon, but found that some bears had broken the sapling and eaten up their cousin. He then struck their trail, and followed them to where ho saw the old one apparently devouring something, he did not know what, lie fired, and being aware of their tenacity of life, waited to re-load his rifle, ere he ventured to ad vance—a sad job for me, as by its dying struggles I have been maimed for life. It is worthy of remark that the deer had been so close upon me, when I fired, that liis breast was singed, and that the barrels of the gun wore found nearly eight inches deep in the wound formed by their own discharge, while I and the stock had been driven upward of thirty feet by the force of his spring. Such are some of tho perils of the backwoods spoilsman, and which, with many others equally romantic, is an “owre true tale,” as I and many others know by hard experience. 2.40!! .Charley was a young husband—alms band of.six weeks only. Intends going to on business of importance Time short—Train starts at 2:40, pre cise!//. “ Angeline,my dear, are my shirts laid out? I want to pack’em in my trunk.” Angeline, my dear, (lolling on the sofa.) —“ No, they ain’t, Charley. I can’t do everything and practice my music besides. You’ll find them in the top drawer of the bureau, I guess.” Charley plunges his hands and head in the drawer. “Gracious, Angy, they aint here—and I can’t find any clean pocket handkerchiefs—and the collars, deuce take it, are without strings 1” Angeline, in a dozy reverie. “Charley, you are too tiresome—you know I can’t sew on collar strings ; and now I remem ber, I gave out all your shirts this mor ning to the laundress.” Husband of six weeks, (blubbering like a soda fount.) —“Only this mor ning! You knew a week ago I was to go travelling this morning ! What am Ito do for a shirt, madam ? Must I go to with the shirt Nature gave me ? I tell you, Madam, you must alter. Do you hear? You must alter 1” Angeline, (contemptuously.) “Shirts! buttons 1 strings 1 Go buy a dozen 1 As for you, sir, you are a lior-hor horrid b-bru-brute, sir, and I’ll g-g-go ho-home to my m-ina-mamma, that—that I will, sir.” Ccrtes. Young Husband, (looking at his watch ) —“ Ten minutes past 2. Train starts at 2:40. Your Ma be a-hum 1 She’s an old cat, and you’re a kitten—go to your Mamma, puss. You’re a sweet span, very I” (Throws some things in his trunk. Calls a porter, and hastens to the railroad station, revolving in his mind whether “’twere better to bear the ills” he has or fly to some wild mountain and be a hermit. Angeline screams and falls on the sofa, crushing the poor poodle hid under the cushion—concert a la howl. Charley reaches station at 2:41f —hears the steam-whistle blow its horrid blast just a mile on its way. Feels just like a man a little too late. Wonders if all men have their shirts ready. Wends his way home slowly, and finds his wife playing and singing at a terrible 2:40 rate : “ The laddie that wooed me in the meadows green /” Slave Difficulty.— A number of Slaves made their escape from the bor der counties of Kentucky on the 28tli ult. An attempt was made to arrest them in Cincinnati, when the slaves fired and slightly wounded several spec tators. A slave woman cut the throat of one of her own children, killing it instantly. Several of their number were wounded. Six were arrested, and eight escaped. A Touching Incident. A little girl, in a family of ray ac quaintance, a lovely and precious child, lost her mother at an _ige tjsa»fiurly to fix tho lovely features in her remem brance. She was as frail as beautiful, and as the bud of her heart unfolded, it seemed as if won l>3 r that mother’s prayer to turn instinctively heavenward. Tho sweet, conscientious, prayer-loving child was the idol of the bereaved family. She would lie upon the lap of the friend who took a mother's case of her, and, wind ing the wasted arm around her neck, would say : “ Now tell me about mam ma?” And when the oft-told tale had been repeated, would softly ask, “ Take me into the parlor, I want to see my mamma.” The request was never re fused; and the affectionate child would lie for hours, contentedly gazing on her mother’s portrait. But “ Palo and wan she grew, and weakly Hearing all her pain so meekly, That to them she still grew dearer, As the trial hour drew nearer.” That hour had come tit, last, and the weeping neighbors assembled to sco the little one die. The dew of death was already-on the flower as its life sun was going down. The little chest heaved faintly—spasmodically. “■ Do you know me, darling ?” sobbed close in her ear tho voice that was dear est; but it awoke no answer. All at once a brightness, as if from the upper world, hurst over the child’s color less countenance. The eyelids flashed open, the lips parted, the wan cuddling hands flew up, in the little one’s last impulsive effort, as she looked piercing into the far above. “Mother!” she cried, with surprise and transport in her tone—and passed with that breath into her mother's bosom. Said a distinguished divine, who stood by that bed of joyous death : “ If I had never believed in (he minis tration of departed ones before, 1 could not doubt it now !” “Peace I leave with you,” said the said the wisest Spirit that ever passed from earth to heaven. Let us ha at peace, amid the 1 spirit mysteries and questionings on v hich 1 [is eve shall soon shed the light of eternity. —National Era. Fish with a Steel Thai-. —One of our merchants who has an eye to the interests of the trade, has invented anew mode of catching black fish, namely, with a steel trap. It has proved itself so valuable an operation, that all our fishermen are providing themselves with steel traps. And the demand for the article is greater than the supply. The instrument used is of tho old fashioned kind, with iron teeth closing together. The modus operandi is decidedly unique. Hie trap is set and baited, properly pro vided with a sinker, and let into the water. An ominous click below denotes the amusement at hand ; the fish tries to steal the bait, but immediately the trap steals the fish, when he is drawn up to the surface, often three at a time, and at the rate of ono a minute. The returns for one day’s sport are reported at above a hundred. This is certainly an age of progress and steel traps.— New Haven Register. Ludicrous Mistake.— A Washing ton correspondent of the Baltimore Clip per says that Gpy, Sr., of the National Hotel, and Gen. Cass are so much alike ’tis hard to tell tother from which. Last week a gentleman coming down the stairs cried out: “Guy, I can’t stand this—being put in tho third story; having to tramp three flights of stairs every time I go to my room! ” “Sir! it is not Guy, but Gen. Cass you address,” was the reply. Gent, appologized and went out — soon returned—thought he certainly saw Guy, Sr., before him, and exclaimed: “Guy! Guy! a good joke—l mistook old Cass for you just now.” “Sir,” said tho General bluffly, “ vou meet Old Cass again 1 ” Hard of Hearing.—A Love Story. A young Jonathan once courted tho daughter of an old man that lived “down east,” who professed to be deficient in hearing, but forsooth, was more captious than limited in hearing, as the sequel will show. It was a stormy night in the ides of March, if I mistake not, when lightning and loud peals of thunder answered thunder, and Jonathan sat by the old man’s fireside, discussing with the old lady, (his intended mother in-law,) on the expediency of asking tho old man’s permission to marry “Sal.” Jonathan resolved to “pop it” to tho old man next day. Night passed, and on the dawn of another day, the old man was found in liis barn lot, feeding his pigs. Jonathan rose from his bed early in the morning, spied the old man feeding his pigs, and resolved to ask him for Sal. Scarce had a minute elapsed, after Jonathan made his resolution, ere he bid the old man “good morning.” Now, Jonathan’s heart beat; now he scratched his head, and ever and anon gave birth to a pensive yawn. Jonathan declared that he’d as lief lake “thirty-nine stripes” as to ask tho “old man ;” but, said he aloud to himself, “ however, here goes it, a faint heart never won a fair girl,” and addressed tho old man thus: “I say, old man, I want to- marry your daughter.” “You want to borrow my halter. I would loan il to you, Jonathan, but my son has taken it and gone off to tho mill.” Jonathan, putting his mouth close to tho old man’s ear, and speaking in a deafening tone, “I’ve got five hundred pounds of money 1” Old man, stepping hack, as if greatly alarmed, and exclaiming in a voice of sur prise, “ You have got, five hundred pounds of honey, Jonathan ? Why, it is more than nil the neighborhood has use fur 1” (Jonathan, not yet the victim of de spair, and putting his mouth to the old man’s ear, bawled out) “ I’ve got gold.” “So have I, Jonathan, and it is the worst cold I ever Ifad in my life.” So saying, he sneezed a “ wash up.” By this time tho old lady came up, and observing Jonathan’s unfortunate luck, she put her mouth to the old man’s car, and screamed like a wounded Ya hoo— “Daddy, I say Daddy—you don’t un derstand ; lie wants to marry our daughter.” “I toid him our calf halter was gone.” “ Why, Daddy, you didn't understand —lie’s got gold !—lie’s rich !” “lie’s got cold ur.d the itch, eh! — What’s he doing here with the itch,eh!” So saying, the old man aimed a blow at Jonathan’s head with his cane—but happily for Jonathan, he dodged it. Nor did the rage of the old man stop at this, but with angry countenance, ho made after Jonathan, who took to bis heels; nor did Jonathan’s luck stop here, ho had not got out of the barn yard, nor far from the old man, who run him a close race, before Jonathan stumped his toe, and fell to the ground, and before the old man could “take up,” lie stum bled over Jonathan, and fell sprawling in a mud hole. Jonathan sprung to his heels, and with the speed of John Gilpin, cleared himself. And poor Sal she died a nun, and never had a husband. A writer in the Knickerbocker Maga zine suggests that in all probability the bird of wisdom called owl was intended to be called howl, but the first eoeknev who ’eard ’iin ’oot got k’exasperated and dropped the h’aitch. H’ornithologists and h’entymologists will please notice and correct tUHr works h’accordingly. Horace Mann, in a speech recently delivered by him, says that “a dying miser will pinch a dimo until tlio eagle upon it screams.” Unluckily, however, for the learned gentleman’s accuracv, there is no eagle on a dime. Excelsior. Higher! is a word of noble meaning, the inspiration of all great deeds—the sympathetic chain that leads, link by link, the impassioned soul to its zenith of glory, and still holds its mysterious ob ject standing among the stars. Higher! lisps the infant that clasps its parent’s knees, and makes its feeble essay to riso from the floor—it is the first inspiration of childhood—to burst the narrow confines of the cradle in which its sweet moments have been pass ed forever. Higher 1 laughs the proud school boy at his wings, as he climbs the tallest tree af the forest, that he may look down on liis less adventurous companions with a flush of exultation, and abroad over the fields of his native village. He never saw so extended a prospect before. Higher 1 earnestly breathes the stu dent of philosophy and nature; he has a host of rivals, but he must eclipse them all. The midnight oil iu his lamp burns dim, but he finds light and knowledge in the lamps of heaven, and his soul is never weary when the last is hid behind the curtains of the morning. And higher 1 his voice thunders forth, when the dignity of manhood has invest ed his form, and the multitude is listen ing with delight to his oracles burning with eloquence and ringing like true steel in the cause of freedom and right. But when time has changed lii« locks to silver, and when the world-wide renown is his; when the maiden gathering flow ers by the roadside, and the boy in the field, bow in reverence as he passes, and the peasant looks to him with honor can ho breathe forth from his heart the fond wish of the past 1 Higher yet! lie has reached the apex of earthly honor, yet his spirit burns as warm as in youth, though with a steadier and paler light, and it would borrow wings and soar up to high heaven, leav ing its tenement to moulder among the laurels he has wound around it, for the never-ending glory to be reached only in the presence of tho Most High ! A Man Saved by iiis Wife’s Corpse. —Mr. Walters, a passenger on the steamer Anthony Wayne, was taking from Chicago back to Philadelphia the remains of a fond and loving wife, to be buried among her relations and friends. During the trip the ill-fated boat explo ded her boilers, killing nearly every one on board.—Mr. W. was lifted several hundred feet into the air, and fell into the water almost lifeless. Tho night was dark and dreary, and in his strug gles to keep himself afloat he acciden tail}' struck against a box to which he clung all night long with desperation. When daylight appeared he discovered that tho box which had saved liis life contained the corpse of his wife. The object of all true education is to vitalize knowledge. Some teachers in struct their scholars very thoroughly, who never educate them at all. They teach them to commit the rules of their arithmetic or grammar by heart, but never lead them to comprehend a single principle, make them learn thousands of names of places, without giving them an idea of geography. Good Excuse. A doctor had a friend whom ho was accustomed to meet every day, but at length the latter avoided him, and the doctor could never get near enough to speak a word to him. But one day happening to come suddenly on his friend, the doctor saluted him with— “ llow comes it, my friend, that I never get to see you of late; that you try to get out of my way 3” “ Why, the fact is,” he replied, “1 bav'nt been sick for so long, that I am ashamed to meet a doctor.” Why are the ladies of the present day like the iiilies of the scriptures ? Because they toil not, neither do they spin ; yet Solomon in ail his glory was not arrayed like one of them. NUMBER 7 Hard Shell Wit. Rev. ■ ■ - ■ Nicodemus, an aged ex pounder of the Hard Shell faith, was recently indicted upon two counts by the brethren of his church. The first was, that he had officiated at a Methodist meeting; and the second, that, in speaking of the fleetness of a certain old race horse, he had said, “Scoredouble would Jly," which they thought was, to say the least, a flagrant perversion of facts. Nicodemus was tried, found guilty,- and suspended. He appealed, prayed a new trial, and asked to be heard in his own defence. This was granted, where upon lie said : “ I confess to you, my breetliering, that I did say old Score double would fly, but my meanin’, ao cordin’ to the tex, was, that agreeable to natur, he must soon- die in the flesh,- and then under the wings of vultures be would fly ! And I did, my flock and breetliering, attend a Methodis meetin’; for the tex says, ‘ feed ray sheep.' The Methodis, so called, invited me into thsiv pulpit. I went up, my breethering. — When they were done, they asked me to dismiss the kongregashun. It being, to dismiss and cut oft' the work of the Devil, my breetliering; methought if would be doing the Master’s service. So I dismissed them, my breethering. If it had been to continue, Nicodemus would not have been tliar, my breethering!" Nicodemus was acquitted joyfully, and ho was bid by the “breethering" to go 1 forth again and “feed the sheep.” * Very Dry Doctrine. —On board the Cunard steamers divine service is read l every Sunday morning. A passenger one Sunday asked one of the crew, “Are you obliged to attend to public worship!" ‘ Not exactly obliged, sir,” replied Jack, “ but we would loose our grog if we didn’t.” “We’ve been Swimming.” —“Sara, where have you been ?” “ We’ve been swimming, father." “We 2 who’s been swimming with you?” “Nobody, sir.” “Well, but you said “we’ve bee# swimming,” did’nt you ?” “We’ve been swimming, father!" “Who did you swim with, then, you young rascal ? ” “ Me, father,” said the pert urohin, “ why, I swam with the tide.” Here the youngster hardly dodged • potato sent at his head. — Dobbs says that beauties generally die old maids. They set such a value on themselves they don’t find a purchaser till the market is closed. Out of a dozen beauties who have come out in the last few years, eleven, ho says, still occupy 1 single beds. They spend their day* working green dogs on yellow wool while their evenings are devoted to low spirits and Tupper’s Philosophy. A man in California, under the sen tence of death by hanging, asked the shcrifTthe evening previous to his ex ecution, “ I say, sheriff, at what hour i» that little affair of mine to come off.” Conclvsive. —We cut the following, which appears as a P. S. to a certificate to the efficacy of a certain cure-all med icine, from the Philadelphia Mercury. It is perfectly decisive of the merits of the medic'ne: P. S. My Uncle, Bacchus Pottinger, was afflicted so long with the gout, (contracted by living too much on boat's meat aud alligator’s eggs,) that life be came a burden to him. He took only four boxes of said pills and his life waa a burden to him no longer. A painter having turned physician, was asked the reason. “ Because my former business exhibited my mistakes in too glaring a manner. I have now chosen one in which they will all b# buried.” Wadded comforts are poor substitute* for wedded wives.