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VOLUME X. TEItMS! Thr Madison Family Visitor is published Weekly (every Saturday morning,) at TWO * DOLLARS per annum, invariably in advanc*. r *Fifty numbers in the year are mailed to each •übscriber. <M Discontinuances. —Notice must be given at the •xpiratiou of subscription and all arrraragespaid, or subscribers held liable accordingly. wishing the direction of their paper ranged, will notify us from what office it is to be starred. . Com/nantuitions. —Addressed. post paid, to the f lfitdison Family Visitor, with the author's name every instance. f**F“’All Job Work and >ther business in the Printing line, will meet with prompt attention and faithful execution. Specimens of our Book, Card, Circular, Hill and Programme Printing can be seen at the Q#ice. mfydoertiseni-’nis conspicuously inserted atsl per •glare for the first and fifty cents per square for eaii subsequent insertion. Those sent without a apicificatiou of the number of insertions desired, will be contiuued “tillforlrid ” the sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published rop.TY days previous to the day of jfotices 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 day 9. t that application will be made to the Ceart of Ordinary for leave to sell Laud or Ne gfbes, must be published weekly for two months. .Citations for Letters of Administration must be published thirty days —for Dismission from Ad ministration, MONTHLY SIX MONTHS— for DlSmiS aion from Guardianship forty days. Hules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub lished monthly for four months— for establish ing lost papers, for the full space of three months —?or compelling titles from Executors or Admin istrators. where a bond has been given by the de ceased, the full space of three months. , Publications will always be continued accord % to these, the legal requirements, unless other wise ordered. EVENING SOLACE. BY CURKER BELL. The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; 4fhe thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken, if revealed. And days may pass in gay confusion, And nights in noisy riot fly, While lost in Fame’s or Wealth’s illusion, The memory of the past may die. But there are hours of lonely musing, Such as in evening silence come, When soft as birds their pinions closing, The heart’s best feelings gather home. Then in our souls there seems to languish A tender grief that is not woe; And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish, Now cause but some mild teafs to flow. And feelings, once as strong as passions, Float softly back—a faded dream; Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations, Ifhe taste of others’ suffering seem; Ohl when the heart is freshly bleeding, JJow longs it for the time to be, Wjhen, through the mist of years receding, Ite woes but live in reverie. An 4 it can dwell on moonlight glimmer, On evening shades and loneliness, And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer, Feel no untold and strange distress— Only a deeper impulse given By lonely hour and darkened room, To ftolemn thoughts that soar to heaven, fiteeking the life and world to come. THE CHERISHED HOPE. BY WM. K. m’CCRBY. , Amid the ills and woes of life, • That come but to destroy, There looms a fond and cherished hope That fills our hearts with joy; It nestles in the bosoms of .j The triends that here must part, And sheds a ray of sunshine o’er r ' The bruised and broken heart. It makes us bear our lot through life With smiles instead of tears, • * - And lulls to rest the wounded form That’s rent with boding fears. It is the hope—the cherish’d hope— . g That we shall meet above; **Where pain ana sorrow never come, But all is joy and love. >TIS ALL ONE TO ME. FROM THE GERMAN. 0, His all one to me, all one, Whether I’ve money, or whether I’ve none; He who has money can buy him a wife, And he who has none can be free for life. He who has money can trade if he choose, And he who has none has nothing to lose. He who has money has cares not a few, And he who has none can sleep the night through. He who has money can squint at the fair, And be who has none escapes from much care. HeVho has money can go to the play, Add he who has none at home can stay. Hewho has money can travel about, Hewho baa none can go without. He,who has money can be coarse as he will. And who has none can be coarser still. He who has money can eat oyster meat, And he who has none the shell can eat. Hewho has money can drink foreign wine, ted he who has none with the gout will not pine, He who has money the cash must pay, 4od he who has none, says, Charge it, pray I ” He who has money keeps a dog if he please, £hd be who has none is not troubled with Seas, tie who has money must die one day, itnd he who has none mnst go the same way. f| ’tie ell one to me, an oDe, Jfhetber I’re money, or whether I’re none. Cl Southern XXfocklij Cifotmij anir fttfocellmuoiis 3 journal, for iI)C £pmt Circle. [From the Cassville Standard.] MY WIFE! A LEAP YEAR STORY. BY JOHN JKNKIN’S, JR. Popping the question ! There’s some thing terrible, to a man of weak nerves, in the very idea of the thing. To think of sitting down and deliberately popping a matter of such vast importance. Talk about storming the Malakoff. I’d father do it twice over than attempt to carry a fortress guarded by a pair of black eyes and pouting lips. Many a poor fellow has required as much stern courage to bear him through safely as old Ethan Allen carried to the heights of Ticon deroga. The ouly effectual plan is to shut your eyes and “go it blind.” Dou’t try to do it in set phrase—you’re sure to make a botch of it, if you do. But it’s wrong to require men to pop the question. Women have twice as much tact as men, and ought, to do all the proposing. It’s their legitimate busi ness, besides, there would never be the remotest possible chance for a failure. \\ liy 1 “ Breathes there a man with soul so dead ” as to be able to withstand a proposition from a pair of rosebud lips, backed by eyes of jet or “ heaven’s ceru lean lint.” No, sir, the idea’s preposter ous and doesn’t deserve a moment’s con sideration. What’s the use of it’s being Leap Year if the ladies don’t mean to assert their rights? In the main, lam not a “Wo man’s Rights” man, but in this particu lar I am. I ask again, what’s the use of Leap \ ear if the ladies don’t mean to take advantage of it? I wouldn’t give a sixpence for such a Leap Year. I like the good old custom w hich prevailed in Scotland in the time of Queen Margaret when it was ordained that during the reign of “her most gracious majestie” every maiden of both high and low de gree, should have the liberty to speak to the man she liked, and if he refused to take her for his wife, he was to pay a hundred pounds or less, (as his estate might justify.) unless he could prove that he was betrothed to another woman.— There was a law for you, and the Scotch lassies took advantage of it, too. Somebody has compared marriage to a wire rat trap, the large end of the cone outside so as to permit the victim to en ter without difficulty. But when he finds that the toasted cheese which de coyed him into the trap isn’t what it was cracked up to be, and essays to depart, the sharp points of the wire gently re mind him that he’s in for it, without a chance for escape. I dare say the man who originated that idea was a crusty old bachelor, who had been kicked by every girl in his settlement, and had given up all idea of doubling himself, because he couldn't find anybody to have him. I look upon marriage as one of the great institutions of this country, and no more a rat trap than the ladies are toasted cheese. Good old Ben Franklin said the sexes were like the halves of a pair of scissors—of no popular use without each other. He was right, and I know of several halves now on the look-out for their mates. lam a bachelor. It’s nobody’s busi ness what my age is. This way of in quiring after people’s ages is impolite, and ought to be frowned down by all good members of society For the satis faction of the curious public, however, I will state that I might be several years younger to great advantage. But, in the language of Toots, that’s of no conse quence. I am a bachelor and rather comfortably fixed up. I have a tolera bly snug room, and when I get on my dressing gown and slippers, esconce my self in my arm chair and light my pipe, I sometimes feel pretty well satisfied with my condition of single blessedness. Can dor, compels me to say, however, that I am not a bachelor from choice. I can’t think of entering into a detail of the cir cumstances which have made me what I am. It would take- too much time, and wouldn’t be pleasant to me. Sbaks peare says there’s nothing in s name. I MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1856. am usually disposed to concede to the great Bard of Avon more than ordinary wisdom and good sense, but right here I must join issue with him. My name is Jenkins! John Jenkins, Jr.! Not a had name, lam disposed to think. It looks well, written or printed—especially wiit ten, if you make your J’s with a flourish, as I invariably do. And yet, in spite of its being a good name, and a pretty one to write, I have never been able, up to this time, to find a young lady who ap peared to fancy it. None of them seem to think that "Mrs. John Jenkins" on a visiting card would look well, and so I’m doomed “to blush unseen and waste my sweetness on the desert air.” One evening I sat in my bachelor apartment cozily smoking iny pipe and gazing into a hugo wood fire which burned upon the hearth, and warmed and lighted the room at the same time. It is wonderful how smoke generates thought. Ik Marvel lias given us his bachelor reveries over a wood fire, a coal fire, and a segar, but he has never given us the result of his cogitations with a pipe in his mouth, if, indeed, he smokes a pipe. Or did smoke one, I mean, for, poor fellow, lie’s married now. and all his bachelor reveries and pipe smokings are over. But on this particular evening, as I sat smoking, I got to thinking, and my thoughts took pretty much the form in which I have written them down But, all at once, while I sat dreaming before the fire, I heard “a tapping at my cham ber door.” It was a wild night without. The wind howled and shrieked like a spirit of evil, the window sashes rattled, and a huge tree, which grew dose to my room, grated harshly against the side of the house, as if begging for admission from the cold without. Who could bo coming to visit the on such a night ? But I soon put an end to the mystery by opening the door. A sable son of Africa entered, banded mo a delicately perfumed billet and departed.' It was directed in a remarkably neat female hand to “ Mr. John Jenkins.” I broke it open and read— “ Miss Jerusha Ann Johnson presents her compliments to Mr. John Jenkins, and, availing herself of the privilege which Leap Year gives the ladies, re quests the pleasure of his company to morrow evening. Miss J. begs the hon or of the visit to enable her to communi cate a matter of peculiar interest to Mr. J. She deems it proper to state this much, fearing that he may expect to find a party present on the occasion.” What could it mean ? My acquain tance with Miss Johnson was very limit ed. I had met her half a dozen times at as many parties, hut had neverdream ed of making an impression. But she evidently meditated a proposal, and 1 must prepare myself for it. Had she fallen in love with my good looks, or had she taken a fancy to my name ? I couldn’t understand it, and so I went to bed—“ to sleep, perchance to dream.” The next morning I awoke bright and early, and the first thing that popped in to my mind was the occurrence of tbe night before. .Was it a dream ? No, for the little scented billet was there on my table. I ate my breakfast and tried to go about my usual business, but in vain. I could think of nothing but Miss Johnson and my evening’s engagement, for I had determined to go. I turned it over in my mind iu every shape and form, but to no purpose. She was rich and beautiful—l, though not as poor as Job’s turkey, had nothing to invest in bank stock. Why should she fancy me? I couldn’t understand it, and so I deter mined to await the issue. I should say that ray heart beat audibly as I pulled the bell that evening at the rich Mr. Johnson’s door. lam sure that I heard it, but would be willing to take an oath that I felt it as if it would beat through my vest. I was ushered into the parlor where a comfort able fire was burning. I bad been seated but a few minutes when my attention was arrested by a rustling of silk, and Miss Jeausba Ann entered the room. Miss Johnson was a graduate of a Female College, and, of course, accom plished. We began on that original and seldom mentioned topic, the weather, and soon glided into quite a pleasant and interesting tete a tete. After a time, however, I noticed a certain embarrass ment of manner in Miss Johnson, which I readily attributed to the peculiarity of her position. Until the evening pre vious, I had uot dreamed of entertaining for her anything approaching to a tender passion, but my singularly susceptible heart had been gradually warming to wards her, until now I felt on the point of relieving her from all embarrassment, by getting on my knees and declaring my attachment. But it was Leap Year, and I couldn’t think of interfering with the young lady’s privilege—so I held my pcaco and allowed the silence which ensued to remain unbroken. At length iny fair companion re marked, iu a singu larly sweet tone of voice, which made my heart thump hard against my ribs: “ You are, doubtless, anxious to know, Mr. Jenkins, why you have been sum moned here this evening?” Now, Jenkins, said I mentally, it’s coming, old fellow. Bear up bravely, and act like a man. Don’t be frightened out of your wits. Having nerved myself by this mental confab, I remarked audibly that “I bad some little curiosity on that point." “Not to keep you longer in suspense, then, you must know that a lady friend of mine has fallen in love with you, and has deputised me to iuform you of the fact. She is young and wealthy, beau tiful, accomplished and amiable. I have her likeness, which I will show you when you have agreed to the terms I shall propose. With all her good quali ties, my friend is remarkably eccentric. She ;.»s determined to marry without an i hour's courtship. She has heard of you, and made such enquiries as satisfy her. I am ready Xo pledge my word that ail I have said in-her favor is true to the let ter. Her property is ample, and will be entirely under your control. Her family is one of the best in the country. Are you willing to marry her ? If you an swer in the affirmative, I will give you the likeness, which I hold in my hand, and the marriage will take place in this room to-morrow evening.” Rather tight papers, I thought, to be called on to marry, at such short notice, a girl I had never seen nor heard of until that moment. But the words “beautiful,” “wealthy,” “amiable,” “good family,” “all under my control,” kept ringing in my ears, urging me to decide ill the affirmative. I was getting old enough to marry, too, and there might never be another chance. I believe I’ve already remarked that young ladies are not, generally, partial to the name of Jenkinß, and it occurred to me that I’d better improve this opportunity. Miss Johnson sat gazing into the fire, keeping up in tbe mean time a drumming on the carpet with the prettiest little foot imagin able. I looked up and caught her eye : “Have you decided ?” she asked. “ I have, and in the affirmative,” was my reply. In a moment the miniature was in my band, and I gazed upon the most beauti fut face I had ever soen. I was in rap tures, and could have gone upon my knees to Jerusha Ann for helping me to such an angel for a wife. My joy was too great for words, however, and I left with a promise to be prompt in my attendance the following evening. My wedding nght came, and with a friend “to see me through,” I was ushered into Miss Johnson’s parlor. A dozen persons were present. We were introduced to such as were not already known to us, and I took a seat by Miss Jerusha Ann, leaving my friend to take care of himself. I learned that every thing was in readiness for the ceremony. My intended was in an adjoining room, whither I accompanied Miss Johnson to join her. She was even more beautiful than the picture, and I was the happiest man alive. We were introduced, but I could iroly press her band. It was not to bo wondered at that neither of us spoke. Everything being ready, wo proceeded to the parlor, and were made man and wife after tbe most approved fashion. It’s not considered polite, I believe, for a man to talk exclusively to bis wife the evening of his wedding, and as my acquaintance with my better half was extremely limited, I was very well con tent to circulate among the other ladies and leave Mrs. Jenkins to be entertained by the other gentlemen. In the course of the evening, however, I got a seat by my wife and tried to converse with her, but her conduct was inexplicable to me. I made several remarks intended to be very affectionate—such as I imagined a newly married man would naturally make to his wife—but she only gazed into my face without answering a word. I tried agaiu and again with the same want of success. What could it mean ? She was not dumb, fori had heard her speak several times during the evening, and her voice was singularly musical. I had been advised her eccentricity, but a plague on such eccentricity as this! I hadn’t bargained for it. The crowd finally left, and my wife, Miss Johnson and myself were alone. I determined to solve the mystery. I did so, and what think you, kind reader, was the result— my wife was as deaf as a post? Yes, sir, you might have fired off a camion within an inch of her ear and she would scarcely have heard it. Wasn't I in a fix? And yet she was so pretty nud seemed so affectionate that I could not help loving her, in spite of this great de fect. But to proceed with my story. Mary —that was my wife’s name—was quite rich, and as I had control of everything, I soon settled myself in as nice a habita tion as our town afforded. My wife was very clever and amiable—but very deaf! Anything in the way of private conver sation was out of the question. All the neighbors could bear me when I spoke to her at all. Sometimes my friends called to see me, and then such a veiling and screaming were kept up as would have shamed a mad-house. I could neither read nor write, on account of the horrible clatter kept up by the servants, in their efforts to got to my r wife’s ears. Passing strangers were constantly stop ping before my house attracted by the yelling and bowling within. The truth is—there’s no denying it—l was a mise rable man, in spite of all my wealth. I bad no peace of my life and began to fear that the din and noise would drive me crazy. One morning my wife met mo at the door, with a letter. It was from her aunt, an old lady living some distance off, who proposed to pay her a visit. She would arrive that day, and I must meet her at the oars. I did so, and found— horror of horrors—that she was as deaf as my wife ! 1 hadn’t the heart to say anything to tbe old lady on our way home. I was thinking of what was to follow. When we drove up, Mary was standing at the door, waiting to welcome Aunt Betsey. “I am delighted to see you!” yelled my wife, as the old lady ascended the steps. “How do you do, my dear?” scream ed the aunt in return, while the windows rattled, and a pair of horses passing, un accustomed to the noise, were neaaly frightened into a run. "When I entered the parlor there they sat, on each side of the fire place, and such a yelling! You’d have thought a whole tribe of Cherokee Indians was present. Aunt Betsey’s visit was to last two weeks. Every day the howling con tinued. They seemed to like the fun, and such a horrid din as was kept up “ from early morn ’til evening’s close,” I reckon you never heard. Human nature couldn t stand it, at least mine couldn’t, and so I determined to vamose the ranche. I endured it a week, and then pretended that urgent business called me away. It was on a dark and dismal evening that I took the cars for . It had been sleeting for several days and the track was coated over with ice. Several accidents had occurred within a short period, and I felt a little uneasy as I took my seat and wrapped my blanket closely around me, to shut out the cold. I soon fell into a reverie. I thought of what a glorious time Aunt Betsey and my wife were having. There they sat on each side of the fire place, yelling at one an other like wild Indians and making the whole house hideous. Howl congratu lated myself on having escaped, even though for a brief season, from the eter nal clatter. I laughed inwardly at the idea, and would actually have felt happy but for the recollection that I must re turn to it. At length I slept—how long I know not—and was awakened by, as I thought, one of Aunt Betsey’s yells. I soon learned my mistake. It was the xvhistlo of the locomotive. Wo were off the track and I felt were going down— down—down. I had barely time to close my eyes and mutter a hasty prayer before I felt the shock, and—found my self on the floor. My lamp was out, my fire had burned low, and I was almost frozen. I had been dreaming—was in my own room, and still a bachelor. Cassville, Georgia. Compost Heap. There is another way of preparing a very fertilizing manure which no farmer should bo without for a day. It is the compost heap. The cost of the structure in which to build the heap would be about one half the cost of a respectable hog pen, and every pound of waste vegetable and auimal matter about the farm should be gathered together and deposited in the heap. The scrapings of ditches and gardens, the offals of the kitchen, the stalks of vegetables, decayed leaves and wood, all waste straw, even a superanuated pair of boots—in short, everything that now goes to loss on a farm, should be thrown into tbe pile, and left to rot and fester until it becomes a fertilizer of the most extraordinary pow er. It will soon engender all the acids and alkalies that form the essential ele ments of vegetation. A distinguished man has said, in re ference to the compost heap, that “ the careful farmer should allow nothing to run away in the form of a fluid, or fly away in the disguise of a smell.” In the old agricultural countries of conti nental Europe, a heap of this character is in every man’s barn yard, and I con fess that to me it is wonderful that it is not so here. In forming the heap, all that is necessary is to mix a due propor tion of soil with the other heterogeneous substances, and then add quicklimo in the proportion of about one-tenth or about one-fifteenth ; but as some chem ists deem lime to be injurious when animal manure is present, it might be as well to use the sulphuric acid or a strong solution of potash. The heap is mixed once or twice with the spade to make it fit for the field, and as a manure it cannot be surpassed. Among the most beneficial substances that can be incorporated in such heaps are the bones of animals, hundreds of pounds of which go yearly to loss on a farm. They contain a substance called phosphate of lime, the tendency of which to stimulate vegetable growth cannot be exceeded. But animal bones are also frequently collected by farmers, and burnt like lime, in which state it is com puted that one hundred pounds of it contains as much of the phosphate as is found upon analysis to be contained in two hundred bushels of wheat. The fertility of a soil depends upon the relative proportion of earth. If only one-tenth is alumina, it is called sandy. If only five per cent, is silex, it is called clay, and is fit only for bricks. If five per cent, is liine, it is called calcareous. If twenty per cent, is lime, it is marl. If you wish to read any more, refer to the'next column. NUMBER 8 The Farmer’s Prospect. The fanners of the United States have evidently good prices ahead, and they should begin to make their calculations accordingly. It is now quite too late in the season to talk about increasing the wheat crop of 1850. The extent of that matter was determined weeks ago. But the corn crop of the United States is more important than that of wheat. Be sides the corn and meal exported, we put the worth of a few millions o? dollars into pork, beef, lard, etc., much of which comes frcm corn. Between this and planting time next spring, our farmers tnav calculate their chances for prices, and plant accordingly.' There can be but little doubt, however, but what every species of grain and other agricultural produce will bring high prices for at least two or three years to come, and how much longer no one can' predict with any degree of certainty. It will be perfectly safe for farmers to put in the coming spring all the corn they can manage. Spring wheat for home consumption may also be grown with' profit. Barley, oats, peas, beans, etc., will' also insure good returns, and will proba bly supply the place of winter wheat in ; many families. Therefore, if our farmers are vigilant, and get all things ready for extensive spring and summer crops, the whole country will be greatly benefitted, and the Old World supplied with' bread.' Important Discovery. Jean Blanc, of New Orleans, repre sented to be an agriculturist of conside rable scientific attainment, has secured letters patent from the United States for the discovery of a process of converting thirty different varieties of plants Which grow wild in enormous quantities in' vari ous sections of the Union, into flax ot great strength and beautiful texture.— Specimens of the flax and of the plants from which it is made, are on exhibition in New York. Among the most inter esting of the specimens are the flax made from the stalks of the cotton plant, large quantities of which are burnt on the Southern plantations to get them out of the way; the century tree or wild Ma nilla, which grows in abundance in Florida; the wild hollyhock, with a fibre ten to fifteen feet long; the gold nan keen, of a natural color; the vegetable silk, and the vegetable wool. The pro cess of preparation, we understand, is simple and effectual, preserving all the strength of the staple, and so economical that the flax can be sold at prices far be low those at which the article is now sold. Commercial Advertiser. Potash constitutesone-half of the weight of potatoe ashes. This shows the im portance of wood ashes, as a manure for this crop. As there is 9-60 per cent, of sulphuric acid in the potato ash, it is ap parent that plaster (sulphuric acid and lime,) is also necessary to insure a good crop. Alumina consists of a metallic basis united with oxygen, or, in other words, is a rust of a metal. It is called a sim ple earth. Clay is a mixture of alumina,' silex, (or sand,) and the oxide (or rust,) of iron. Next to sand, alumina is the most common ingredient in soils. When mixed with sand and lime, it forms the best conceivable soil for plants. The combination is Dot a simple mixture, but # by the combination, a chemical action takes place, each leaves its distinctive character, and forms a compound that is neither of the original elements. As alkali and grease, mixed, are neither alkali nor grease, but soap, different from either of the original elements in its formation, so alumina, silex and lime f combined, form a compound differing from either of the constituents. The Haytien Emperor’s army was de feated by the Minio rifle. The few Dominicans were armed with that wea pon, and slew two thousand of Solouqne’e troops, a number considerably larger than the Dominican army.