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VOLUME X. (Original pactvg. Written to¥ thy Visitor. THE &AEAIK OF LOVE, TO In my manhood** early pride, ladv, 1 built me'a oeauteous stinne, Aad fondly knelt to worship there, Dee:niug the idokmine; "The music of a wo na»/s eoico, Sung of a changeless heart, And I dreamed tbai I never, never could From my worship’d idol part. But love’s snrhmer is not long, lady, The green leaf soon grows sere; Ah! when I knelt at mv shrine again, I found no idol there. Oh! what is love ? a wild sweet dream, A light from heaven parted Thrilling the soul to wildest hopes That leave us broken hearted. As other years passed on, lady, I thought to make my home 'Mid rosy smiles wf }*outh and light: I knelt at beauty* throne. All bright was the smile that met me, And the eye that beauty lighted Beamed softly—but ere morning passed, The ray of beauty blighted. A meteor gleam is beauty’s ray, That brightly leads us on, Then fading leaves the heart to weep O’er joys forever gone. Now in my manhood’s prime, *ndy, I kneel at a loftier shrine— Strong in the strength of wisdom’s might—v 1 he ultar of the mind. ’T is not so sweet a * 100 J a soft tone, Nor bfiruty's thrilling power—; But truer far, the mind** bright star, That fades not in an hour. Augu*ta 9 O'a. isiiANA. LOVE IN A LOTT AO E. Oh, cau you live on cottage-rolls; And cresses from the br.iok ? Will kisses, dear one, serve for sauce, Or shall we miss the CooVf Wilt never sigh, my gentle friend, To fetch our humbie coals ?, But when we’re yery short of cash. Wilt live on cottage rolls? Oh, can you sup on turnip tops, Nor sigh for higher state, When that within our cottage walls May chance tube our fjite? Wilt never dream, tjiojos tender one, OJ b ills and d*.ijH.‘ra’ sin ps? A ill llufci C free I 111 T sii.ile put Oli^*' And slip on turnip tups? THU lady’s UEPLY. Yes, I will live oh cottage rolls, With luve,«nd joy, and thee ; My heart w ill seek no other bliss, Than thy own bride to be; For well we know that all we breathe, For joy must pay some tolls, So I with thee, my only love, Will eat our cottage rolls. Oh, yes, I’ll sup on turnip tops, And cresses from the spring; And from our cot to gaudy scenes My heart will ne’er take wing. Nor balls, nor routs, will tempt me thou, Nor fancy drapers’ shops; But a lion love and sighs we’ll live, And smile on turuip-tops. “NEVER COURT BUT ONE.” have finished it, the letter, That will tell him he is free; From this hour and forever, He is nothing more to me! knd ray heart feels lighter, gayer, : Since the deed at last is done— It will teach him that when courting, He should never court but one! Sven b-xly in the village Knmvs he’s been a wooing rae ; And this morning he was riding W.th that-saucy Anna Lee! f hey say he smiled upon Ijer, As he cantered by her side; hnd I’ll warrant you lie’s promised • To make her soon his bride' Sutl’ve huisbed it, the letter, From this moment he is free— Be may have her if he wants her, If he loves her more than me : Be may go—it will not kill me— I would say the same, so there, f I knew it would, for flirting It is more than I can bear. [tis twilight, and the ere Ding I That he said he’d visit me ; »ut no doubt he’s now with Anna, i He may stay there, too, for me! jpnd as true as I’m a living, I’ll act as if we never, | Never, never met before! It is time he should be coming, [ And I wonder if he will ; P he does, I’ll look so coldly— I What’s that shadow on the hill ? K declare, out in the twilight, I There is someone coming near— | an it be ? yes—’tis his figure, I Just as true as I am here? ■ow I almost wish I’d written, 1 Not to him that he was free; for perhaps ’twas but a story i That he rode with Anna Lee. ■here! he’s comiDg through the gateway, ■ I will meet him at the door, Brad I’ll tell him still I love him, I If he’ll court Miss Lee no morel £1 Snutljmi VUcriilij Citium; nntx miscellaneous Journal, for t!;e Ijonte Circle. 5t Capital Stonj. MISER-LINES. BY MRS. M. A. DENNISON. Fart First. “ Harry, I never before had lo ask so many times for a necessary article, [ do believe you are growing stingy. Come i ’k in my face, let me see if there are miser.lines on your cheeks. I)o you know i had an uncle once who was a miser? He was rich enough to htty all Philadelphia, they say. It all went to benevolent societies ; queer, wasn't it ? But I remember the description a young fit* cousin used to give of him, and she Slid he haj two deep, long lines cn either cheek, running from the root of the nose to the chin. She told it in such a ludicrous manner that it always made me laugh; as it was a peculiarity, 1 call them miser-lilies. Let me look at you; no, your cheeks are smooth as mv own; there never w II he a miser-line there, I know. Ifut there are two faint, very faint wiinklcs on this open blow. It looks ominous,” continued the gay youinr wife, laughingly shaking her head. ‘ J wonder what it means; I think vou ap ply yotirsvit too slcadih to business” Voting Maitland hardly replied to this gay speech of his beautiful wife, hut turning listlessly from hi- paper, leaned hi- head upon 'his hand. “Charles," cried Annie, laughing a lit'le, “ lira! old uncle,-vou kitow. Well Kiel and Ch,ir'ny—you know con-ins fret! ami Clint toy,- thev-ve got static Iring lo remember him tit. Now don’t go to sleep while 1 tell you ; iix your bright eves on mine and don't even wink. They knew, as every body else dal, 1 suppose, that unde 'Sinh was im mensely rich.” “You know,” jmt in II irrv, smiling a I'l lie. “There, it is provoking that I can’t hieak myself ot that foolish thing ; I can't think when it became a habit: hi* you know—e” She paused, blushed, and "i li a slight ly petulant manner, that was quite be coming in In r, cried, I will conquer myself, ’ and proceeded to tell her story, which by the way, Harry looked for quite patiently. “ Well, one day, uncle 'Siali came from Indiana to visit aunt Hetty, and theboys, Fred and Charley, tried in every way to please the old gentleman, partly on ac count of his age, hut ‘most partly,’ as little sis says, on account of their pock ets. Uncle ’Siali seemed attracted by their queit and self-denying habits, and the attention the rattle-brains showed him: so the day before he was to return homo, he said to them,- ‘ boys, after din ner come into the library* I want to give yon something, as you have been such good little fellows since I have been here.’ You niav just imagine how red their cheeks grew, and what visions of splendor floated before their eyes. Fred, says that lie looked confidently lor fifty dollars, though lie modestly hinted to Charley it might only be fen, and-on tin;-strength of their expectations, the) both got trusted at a neighboring toy shop to the amount of a whole dollar. “Not the only ones,” muttered Harry, “ who got trusted on the strength of their expectations.” “ No, but don’t sigh so dolefully dear. One o’clock came, though the boys de clared confidently it never would. At two dinner was on the table, at three despatched, and immediately after, Fred and Charley, with hair combed smoothly, and dressed in their holiday suits, crept into the study with their cheeks as red as peonies. “The old man was there. Two very small parcels lay on the table at Ins side; he beckoned them to he seated. ‘ Boys,’ said he, solerniv, * I am about to make you a present of some money; and I want you to use it discreetly. You are young, and do not know the value of such a commodity, hut do as I did, save your money. What I give you now is the same amount I commenced life with, MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JULY 12, 1856 and by prudence and energy I have be come rich. I hope you may do the saute. Be honest, boys, be virtuous and prudent; never tun in debt for the snial est article, (the boys felt uneasy at that) he patient, be temperate,, and you can | not fail to become rich. Now hoys, take these, receive my blessings, go.’” “ And how much was it, pray ?’’ asked Harry, lifting up his head, and looking quite animated. “ by, it was a penny a piece,” re turned Annie, laughing heartily. “And I F *ed declares that the old man thought , they were on their good behavior for the ditties, so took this method to rebuke I them, for he says he happened to Icok hack before he got out of the room, and uncle ’Siah was laughing away to him self. 0, they were so angry. Charles wanted to go and fling the money in his ftice, hut Fred reminded him that any want of respect towards the old man would subject him to severe punishment, so ho contented himself with tossing it into a neighboring field, while Fred took an old axe, and succeeded in chopping his penny to pieces, and leaving them in the way. And only think of the dol lar ! Many and many a pleasure they were forced to deny themselves, to liqu - date that debt; but after all it proved a fortunate thing, for you know Fred and Charles have a great abhorrence to get ting trusted or trusting either, I believe,” a'd-d Annie, lightly. “But Harry,’ she exclaimed, noticing her husband was IV paring :->g-.,that shawl! you won't <U-;.,-poi; t me, love — only a hundred ami liiu dollars, and I do really need it. Lome, now, don’t sigh so, or I sl.al think the miser-lines are loginning to come.” ’‘l'll try.” The young man strove to speak lightly, hut he could not, and ended as usual with a heavy sigh. FINDING THE JOURNAL. “ I wonder what makes Harry so gloomy 1 1 thought Annie,asahe resumed her sewing; “1 ant sure everything is delightful hero at home, and Jlirrv seems to enjoy my society as ke-ulv as ever. Heigh lio! some per picking business matter, I suppose. I'm glad I ain’t a man, indeed 1 am. llow the poor fellow did sigh ! and the day so beautiful too ; I can’t work she ad ' ded, throwing her embroidery into a graceful fancy work basket, that tasseled and corded about, sat at her side, and ! she arose, sauntered through the leauti- I ful parlors and out into the pi ss g*. | There in the broad light of the sun lounged a rosy-cheeked maid fast asleep. “What a lazy creature I” thought An uie, “really she dosn’t have work enough to do to keep heroutof mischief, though j to bo sure she can’t do much mischief ! asleep, hut I w ish she had more work to j do.” Passing the girl, Annie ran up stairs to her dressing room, and for a* while amused herself by re-arranging the beantiful dresses in her wardrobe. Then she paused half yawning before her mir ror, languidly rolled her ringlets, wished Harry could stay all day with her, she j was sure she never could be weary of bis > company, wondered when the up holsterers would come to measure the rooms for new carpets, and window s for new curtains, hoped that Harry wouldn’t forget that absolutely indispensable shawl, and then began looking through her drawers. A Small, beautiful gilt annual—sucli she thought it—attracted her fancy. She had found it snugly stored in the corner of the drawing room lounge, un der one of the velvet pillows, the evening before ; and believing it to be a book lent her by a friend, she carried it to her own room that it might not receive in jury. Mechanically seating herself, she opened the pages and found a blank. Surprise roused her energy ; she placed the book on her knee and turned care fully to the first page to find the owner’s name. In a wreath- of daintily tinted flowers, she read, “ Harry F. Maitland’s journal.” “ Why it’s Harry’s,” she exclaimed in surprise; “I did not know he kept a journal,” and turning the pages hurried ly, she paused at a passage where her own name caught her attention, and blush ing she read on. “ 20th —My beautiful Annie grows every day dearer to my heart, and my only grief is that I cannot readily grat ify her every wish. Foolish, nay, crim inal man that I was, that for fear of losing her, I dared allow her to indulgo the dream that I was wealthy. She, lovely, petted, reared in affluence, little thinks of my daily, nay hourly struggle for her sake, and I dare not tell her.— For she seems a being so pure, so un' selfish, that were she, as some women, to display an unreasonable vanity, and taunt mo because I could not adminis ter to her wants, I should he of all men the most miserable. “ 23d—lam living beyond try income. To-day I am two hundred dollars in debt for extravagances and heaven knows I need every cent for business.” “ \esterday, brought Annie an opera cloak, and although she looked so beau tifully radiant, my heart ached as I gaz ed upon her. Yet Annie has become accustomed to such things. Can I deny her? But for these fashionable follies, we might live well and owe nothing; hut I do not blame her for one moment. It is my own fault. lam ju tly pun ished for my presumption in wooing her. Her father I I would sooner die than go to him for aid. “24—lain getting deeply involved I fear. I have borrowed five hundred of my cousin, and must return it in thre months. A had beginning. And Annie must have her shawl. If I told her all perhaps she would bo contented with those she has already ; hut I can not gather courage. When 1 think of it in her presence, I am a very coward. I must borrow still more and trust to fortune. llow guilty and how cowardly I seem to myself! O, Annie, I wish I was more worthy of you, sweet wife— for your sake would l had a mine of gold.” L or u moment Annie closed the hook. Joars tilled her eyes, and her good, gen erous heart ached for her erring hus band. “Ho shall see,” she murmured, rising tis she spoke, “ that I am no vain, selfish creature.” Instantly throwing on her graceful bonnet and shawl, that though not quite fashionable, were still very elegant, she set forward to the splendid store of Mr, Gerry, the upholsterer. “ I am very sorry,” exclaimed the po lite clerk, before Annie had a chance to speak, “ that I could not send any men to-day, but a counter order”— “It is no matter,” replied Annie, “I called to say that you need not take the trouble, and if the damask is not cut”— “ It shall he directly ; you wish orange and green, I believe.” “ I have changed my mind,” replied Annie, assuming a careless manner, “ I do not wish the damask or the tapestry carpeting yet, when I do I can give you a call.” Certainly, certainly, madam, just as you please,” and the gentlemanly clerk bowed her out. Fart Second. LESSENING EXI’ENSES. Annie’s next move was towards her father’s house, in a beautiful avenue, yet green and blooming, though the leaves were turning sere upon the trees. Her mother sat alone employed in writing. “ Why, how fortunate I ” she cried ; “ I was just about to send you a note, begging you to loan me your set of agate for to-morrow night.” “ What will you give me for it, moth er ? ’’ said Annie, laughingly. •‘ Give you ? why I would you sell it ? You must need money. Doesn’t your husband provide you”— “ With every thing I wish, mother : but 1 want to give him a great surprise and—and in fact it’s to he a secret. So I’m perfectly willing to sell my beauti ful agates; come, what will you give me ? Buy them now I’m in the mood j you know if I need such things I can get plenty more.” “ Well, there are five hundred dollars at my disposal—the set is fully worth a thousand, I suppose; at least I know that is what your uncle paid for it—but he is dead, poor man. I’ll give vou five hundred now, and two at some future time; say in a month.” Annie’s cheeks flushed with pleasure, and she left her father’s house with the bank notes tightly folded up and deposit ed in the end of her purse. Harry came home latter than usual, and his wife pretended not to see as he "cut straight to the lounge and lifted the pillow, looking carefully about. “I suppose the men came here to measure the floors,” said Harry, butter ing his muffin with an air of abstraction that seemed totally foreign to his appe tite. “ No,” said Annie, sipping her tea and trying her best to seem perfectly uncon cerned, “ I was looking at the carpets lo day, and they do seem entirely too good to rip up and send to auction. And then the curtains, I’ve really got attach ed to them. I’m sure Gerry hasn’t so pretty apntern in his store, so as a fit of economy, or perversity, or call it what you will, camo over mo, I determined to go to Gerry’s and tell them that I had changed my mind.” “You did,’’exclaimed Harry, looking up so bright and animated, that Annie felt doubly repaid for her sacrifices.— And it was astonishing how suddenly the poor fellow revived! how quickly the muffins disappeared I Annie laughed quietly to herself; indeed she enjoyed it thoroughly. “ You shall have the shawl to-mor row,” lie said, in the course of the even ing. “Thank you for nothing,” Annie re plied, laughing, “I'm not going to he burdened with a shawl. The fringe is always catching in something, and my shoulders don’t droop enough to carry one gracefully. I found that out one day all on a sudden. And you know | that beautiful satin you bought forme last fall for udress; well, I’m just going hi have it made into a stylish cloak, it won’t cost one eighth tiie sum, and will look much more becoming and beautiful.” Harry drew a long sigh, but it was a sigh of relief, and his wife knew it.— Never seemed an evening to fly so rapid ly. Harry was himself again, danced to his wife’s music, chatted gaily as he was wont of old, and retired a happy, light hearted man. He found his jour nal oddly enough in one of hit coat pock ets that night. The next day at dinner, Annie said, “ Don't you think, Harry, Mrs. Lynch has been hero to get us to go to the new church. Several families have gone, with a perfectly good understanding ex isting between them and our pastor.— Now, I’ve been thinking our church is so dreadfully crowded, and we both ad mire Mr. Elder, the new preacher, so much, hadn’t we better go there ? Be sides, there will be a difference of near ly forty dollars pew rent in a year.” Harry looked keenly at Annie,'and she innocently returned the glance, so, although he wondered at tliespiiit of calculation that camo over his little wife he never even dreamed of the cause: “ I’ll go there certainly, Annie,” ho replied. “It will courage Mr. Elder, and show that we do not attend church to indulge pride and ostentation, as it is a very plain meeting-house, and I pre sume the poorest part of the congrega tion will branch off; but do you think how far it will be for you to walk in the winter.” “Never mind that,” replied Annie. A REMOVAL. Harry had begun steadily to retrieve his fortune, only the debt of five hun dred dollars hung heavily upon his mind. Ho calculated to be able to meet justly his bills, the expensive house and store, “and the next year,” thought he, “I’ll go alone. How fortunate things have turned out in accordance with niy means | and wishes,” | “ Annie is so thoughtful heaven bless her I never gave her credit for as much foresight. She has saved me. “ What! move into that barbarous section of the city ?” exclaimed Harry, though secretly delighted. “ You’ll lose all your fashionable friends.” “ Our acquaintances, mere calling automatons, may think it just cause of neglect, hut I am tired enough of them already. Let them go—l have you.” “ Bless you,” was the reply with a look of unutterable love, and again An nie felt repaid for all her sacrifices. “ I saw the prettiest house to-day,” she continued, “ not near so large as this, but large enough, the dearest little house, and perfectly genteel, in thorough repair, and twice as convenient. Besides, my chief reason to take it is this; that wc shall he so near the new church ; and you know that since I have had charge of a class in the Sabbath school, the walk seems more fatiguing.” “ But what will your parents say ?” “ Nothing, of course, since it is my convenience ; you know they are neither ot them unreasonable. And these glum stoves,” added Annie, rapping one with her pretty foot; “ there is no cheer fulness about them. Now many of the rooms there are furnished with the dear delightful old Franklin stoves, in which one cau enjoy the blaze of a wood tire —and there will be such ale;» ning o our expenses that we can afford to keep one or two fires, can’t we ?” ’ “Lessening expenses,” thought Har ry to himself, “Annie has suspected, and yet how brave and delicate she is,” and his eheeks burned at the same time with gratitude and love. The smaller house was taken. Fur nished with taste and elegance, it was more brilliant, and at the same time more comfortable than the last. To have seen Annie and her husband, tin former busy with her needle, making nameless little articles, the table and lounge drawn up in front of the burnish ed fender and grate, and polished lire ‘logs; to see how glowing Annie’s beautiful face was and how radiant Har iy s . » s he looked up sometimes from the volume he was reading aloud, would fully have satisfied the bitterest ascetic that by the hearthstone happiness was more sacred than fashion. THE DEBT LIQUIDATED. Nothing now troubled Harry hut the debt of five hundred dollars. *• I’ll get an extension of time,” he though', as the day of payment drew near. “lam doing so well now, that two months will clear me. Thank God, and my jewel of a wife, for that! ” Entering his office he saw a sealed en velope lying upon the desk. He took it up, and opened it, and out fell a receipt in full and duly signed. Harry took up the note accompanying, with astonish ment. It ran thus “ Dear Maitland : —I send per re quest, your bill receipted. Thank you for being so prompt in your business arrangements; I see you are taking the right path to success, to wealth and fame. If at any time, you are pressed for mon ey, send to me. I will loan you any amount. Yours, B. Maitland.” Still deep iu astonishment, Harry held his cousin’s note. Every moment his wonder grew. What unknown friend had he, thus anxious to save his credit, thus able to do so. In a moment the thought flashed over his mind that Annie was his un known friend, his good guardian angel. “ But how could she know, how could she know ?” he queried. Abstractedly ho returned home. Ho was silent from suspense and an honorable sense of shame. “What, clouds?” cried Annie cheer fully, “ let me see, are the miser-lines Igrowing?” . . •i.y« u l ' ■ “Do you want a shawl?” asked Har ry, losing his thoughtful aspect. “No,” and Annie blushed and shook her head, “ but,” said she, “ instead, I’ll take a journal.” NUMBER 28 “ Mine, or anew one l” asked Harry.' “ Yours of course; I want to see what you have been doing since I gave up the shawl,” replied Annie, archly. She was instantly folded to her hus band’s breast, while he showered kisses and blessings upon her. “You haw’ made a better, a more resolute man of me. Henceforth all my life, I will strive yet more to be worthy of you." “How much happiness there is in do ing right,” thought Annie. “ I have se cured my husband’s lasting love and' conquered myself.” “Having eyes but seeing not,” she’ murmured, on the next Sabbath.—' “ Who would have thought to find such a jewel in that poor, but intelligent wid ow, who always sat near the door in our splendid church, and never was no ticed by the fashidhables. Each time I see her I learn some lofty lesson, and my nature is being purified by her coun sels.” “Having eyes but seeing not. That I, fretting because my clieeks were losing their bloom, but since I have dispensed' with extra servants, and undertaken the supervision of my own household, I am' healthier and stronger, and the roses still lend bright crimson to make me look beautiful in Harry’s eyes. For, Harry’s sake I would be ever beautiful.’’ Harry Mtilland prospered beyond even his sanguine expectations. He be came immensely wealthy, and under God, was the means of benefiting his country, through his wisdom and liberal expenditure, beyond any man of equal fortune in America. And to this day, when questioned as to his success, lie invariably returns an answer to the query, of how he became rich thus— “ Young man, lowa it to a good wifa God s greatest and best bion to man go to her and she will tell you.” A Dear Kiss —Woman’s Rights.— A curious trial was recently held at Mid uiesex bes-ions, in England, Thomas Savetland, the prosecutor, stated that on the day after Uhristnu s, he was in the room where the defendant, Caroline Newton, and her sister, who had coma from Birmingham, were present. The latter jokingly observed that she had promised her sweetheart that no man should kiss her while absent. It being h diday time, Saverland considered th'a a challenge, and caught hold of htr ard kissed her. The young woman took. it as a joke, but her sister, the defendant, said she would like as little of that fun as he pleased. Saverland told her if she was angry he would kiss her also; be then tried to dj it, and they fell to the ground. On rising the woman struck him ; he again tried to kiss her, and in the scuffle she hit oft his nose, which she spit out of her mouth. The action w: a brought to recover damages for the lose of the nose. The defendant said he had no business to kiss her; if she wanted kissing she had a husband to kiss ber—a better looking man than ever the prosecutor was. The jury with out hesitation acquitted her; and the chairman said, that if any man attempt ed to kiss a woman against her will, she had a perfect right to bite off his nose if she had a fancy for so doing. A clergyman in New Hampshire, last week, according to the Congregational Journal, “exchanged, and apologizing because he was ver_v poorly prepared to speak, said he had hastily thrown a few thoughts together, to which he invited ! their attention. Ho then pronounced a sermon which was composed and pub lished by the late Dr. Woods, of An dover. A shrewd little fellow who bad just begun to read Latin, astonished his mas ter by the following translation : Vir , a man, Gin, a trap, Virgin, a man-trap. Punch says that a Yankee baby will' crawl out of his cradle, take a survey of it, invent an improvement, and apply fora patent before he is six months old.