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VOLUME X. Select pottnj. WHERE TO GO AND WHERE TO STAY. Tell me my rural frieud, dost know some pleasant spot! Some pastoral vale, some flowery dale, some secluded cot— Half hidden in the fragrant vines that round it s lattice creep, 'Wherethrough the long hot summer months, they’ll board aftiler cheap f He stood awhile, then sighing—long and deep He answered slowly— 4 * Y -a-a-s, all but the cheap.*' Tell me, my little bird, that trills on yonder tree, Know’st thou some sweet enchanting-pot, some Island in the sea, Where I can gaze upon the deep, and dream the hours nwav, And cat and drink, and smoke and sleep, and have no bill to pay. A booby sportsmen drilled the bird with shot Before he told me if he knew—or not. Tell me, my gentle wind, is there a tranquil place Where haughty “nobs’* and vulgar “snobs** hare never shown their face, Where heartless belles dou’t flirt, and sin, and smile the hours away— And change their dresses, l : kc their love, u dozen times a day ? The gentle winds made not the lenst reply, But whistled cooly as they wafted by. Oh say, my fast young friend—l know you’ve been around. The “Falls’’and “Springs,” and sen-side, too, say where is comfort found : Is there a place where folks don’t do worst the thut’sdone in town, M here rum and gambling are unknown—where rogues won't do you brown / My fast young friend had not a word to say, But twirled his cane and slowly walked a wav, Tell me, my secret heart, tell me where shall I go? I’ve asked of everybody most—nobody seems to know— Vet everybody semstobe preparing for a start. The city will a desert be—where, when shall Too, my heart ? Theu cairn an answer from heart, low down, If you love solitude, JCST STAY IX TOWN! TO A BELOVED ONE. Heaven hath itsciwu of stars, the earth Utr glory-rode of flowers— The sea its gems—the grand old woods Their songs and greening showers; The birds have homes, where leaves imd blooms In beauty wreath above; High yearning hearts their rainbow dream— And we, sweet, we have lore. I know, dear heart, that in our lot May mingle tears and sorrow ; But, Love’s rich rainbows built from tears To-day will smile to-morrow. The sunshine from our sky may die, The grecuuess from Life’s tree, But ever, ’mid the warring storm, Thy nest shall shelter’d be. I *ee thee, Ararat of my life, Smiling the waves above; Thou hail’st me victor in the strife, And beacon’st me with love. The worM*may never knowy dear heart, What I hare found in thee; But, tho’ nought to the world, dear heart, Thou’rt all the world to mo. OLD DOG TRAY. The morn of life is past, And evening comes at last, It brings me a dream of a once happy day, Os merry forms I’ve seen Upon the village green, Sporting with my old dog Tray. CHORUS. Old dog Tray’s ever faithful, Grief cannot drive him away, He’s gentle, he is kind; I’ll never, never find A better friend than old dog Tray. The forms I called my own Have vanished one by one, The lov’d ones, the dear ones have all passed away Their happy smiles have flown, Their gentle voices gone ; I’vo nothing left but old dog Tray. When thoughts recall the past, Ilis eyes are on me cast; I know that he feels what my breaking heart would say: Although he cannot speak I'll vainly, vainly seek friend than old dog Tray. CENSURE NOT THE HEART. Ob censure not the heart that loves, However strange a choice we see; Each gentle spirit knCws its mate, Tho* hid from us he may be! When mortals meet, sprits hold Communion, in the silent air; And trust, and doubt, and love, and hate Invariably are awakened there! Oh let them freely love that can ; Our mortal loves will soon be o’er; We cannot know what earthly bliss Survives npon a heavenly shore; Full many a fragile, tender joy, Was made for this poor world alone; And wheather found, or failed of, here, In after-life will ne’er be known! SI VUi'ckh) Citeranj iilmellatumts Journal, for the Ijomc Circle. Cl Capital Slutcl). Winning a Widow —with a “Spring Hat.” After riding twenty miles I reached -Donaldsonville, La., just at dark. The Natchez packet sometimes arrived at about 10 o’clock at night, and as I was bound up the Mississippi, and did not want to miss her, determined to wait in tho wharf office. Shortened the time by paying a few visits (o a coffee-house and billiard room in the town. During one of these noticed the arrival of a parly of French creoles, who talked and swore over a dozen “ mallard ducks” loud enough to have made you believe they’d been on the war-trail after Catu anehes, and brought in as many scalps. At last walked over to the wharf-office, settled down and found comfort in a cigar, and as much of a newspaper as the rather misty light of a hull-eyed lantern would give mo. The fire in the stove roared bravely and sent out plen ty of warmth. 1 had dropped the pa per anti only hold on to the cigar, when I suddenly woke up on hearing the door open and a couple of men enter. They found chairs, and drawing up to the stove continued a conversation evidently just commenced as tliev entered. “And so Butter is going to be mar ried 1" “ Wal he is! and a good match he’s made of it. 1 tell you what she’s a roar er. If he don’t have to put a kicking breech on her afore lie’s married a week, yon inny call me a fool. She’s got eyes like a panther ; an’ if ho only lets her get the hit atween her teeth—just for oni e—ishe’lk carry him further nor lie want’s to go.” “ What makes him want to marry her then ?” “ Niggers, mules and as neat a planta tion as llinr is on the Bayou. Two linn died and fifty hogsheads of clean sugar last crop, an’ if they’d only cut the cane airlier fifty more atop of it. She had a new steam ingine put up last season, and tho' that cussed bagasse burner's rousing humbug, yet I reckon it’s all paid for; an’ all Buffer’s got to do, is step in, bang up bis hat, aid set right down to live like a fighting cock.” M Why didn’t you go in there ? The last time I came down the liver I heard you were bucking up to the v Mow ?” “ Wal now, Jim, to he honest, I did think afore that Buffer stepped in, that I just had it all my own way, and that I was goin’to get her—sure! As these here French say, I. made, eyes at her— savage! But, somehow or ’nother, she always went dead agin old Massissip.— A man from our State had no kind of a show, and though I put the ’tentions to her like an uncle, it didn’t seem to be any use of tryin. ’Bout one time she did kind o’ lean my way. You see mire ’bout the end of grinding season Old Farabole giv’ a dance down in his sugar house, and ’vited me and the widder, and a raft more ; an’ down we went, and the widder kind a felt her oats, and we reeled it off in the airly part of the evening fit to kill; but by’m by that Buffer he came on an’ just knocked me cold! “Ye see he’d been down to the city (New Orleans,) and only ’rived on the Bayou that night an’ bearin’ that that was goin’s on down to Old Farabole’s sugar-house, down he cum. Wal, sir, he was dressed to death in the handsomest kind of store-clothes, an’ the women war right up on eud soon as he came in. “ I see the widder a fixin’ her panther eyes on him, and I jest Baid to myself; ‘Dick Tare-out, you raout as well clear; that’ere Buffer’s too much for you in the close line !’ I felt it at oncet.— Wal, sir, in about a minnit up comes Buffer, smiled at the widder in a fash iuatin’ manner, an’ insists on dancit.’ with her. Sezshe:‘Yes! Mister Buf fer, it will ’ford me the greatest pleasure! Greatest pleasure 1 wal, the way he squeezed her when they danced, I rath er think it did. I kept an eye on Buffer. MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 1856 Now, you see, he’d been stayin’ at the Saint Charleses, an’ puttin’ it through like forty, an’ he larntall the last agonies in the way of booin’ and scrapin’, an’ savin lee!le nothin’s; and, sir, carried his hat round in his hand all over the sugar-house, down among tho bilers, and up round back of the ingine, wliar theliker was—every wliar ho toted that ar’ hat. "Now tho widder didn'tjist ezactlv know what to make of it, coz it was a new wrinkle—so twieet she said to him he’d better let Big Jake, one of the house niggers, hold it for him; but ’twant no use. he held oa to’t tight as a wrench : at last, jest as they war in t(ie middle of a dance, sez Buffer, with seeh a smile, sez he: ‘Mrs. Noir youx, for yure sake I’ll do most entn thing!’ An’ he actilly held that are hat in one hand, an’ hit it a lick with t’other, and fetched top and rim right into a pancake—knocked it right down fla*. "I tell you wot, when tho widder see him do that, she was just ready to drnp — she was so overcome with his intentions. Sactyfixing a bran new hat, and all to gratify her little whim ! I see at once how he was goin’ it, an’ I determined, sir, to head him off. So I stepped up round back of tho ingine, wliar the liker war, an’ 1 took a most rousin’ big horn of old Farabole’s rum, and huntin’round found my lmt. It was a right new one, none of your Kosshoot or wool hats, but a rog’lar beaver stiff as a stove pipe, and shone like a pair of new blacked boots; so I lays hold of that tiro hat, ail’ goes round back of tho ingine an’ takes another swingin’ lag pull at the rum an’ then I felt jist ready for action. The dance was through, and cheers was scarce, the women were all seated on a f. w seats in front of the bilers, an’ Bus fer was a pullin’ on the soft things, an’ the widder was lookin’ tickled to pieces, when I made my appearance on the stage !” “I works up to’rds tho widder, and when I’d got atween her and Buffer, sez I, a low me the pleasure of your hand for the next set,!” j "Oh,” sezslie, with a leotle sigh, “ 1 am so come over that I hardly feel abul ! to dance agin !” “ ‘ Now, sez I to myself, 1 old feller, : spread yourself or die !’ and I jest swings i my hat round forward, and jest as I said —‘ You had better say “Yes!” you’ll get over it a dancin’,’ I held that ar’ hat in one hand (jest as Buffer did his,) and with t’other hand 1 druv the crown down with sech another lick, that the lining jumped right through, and bust the e n 1 right out. “ ‘ Raaly,’ said she, ‘ you skeered me !’ an’ I think I mout have done it. Thar was my hat > all knocked into infernal pieces no bigger than bits, the rim all bangin’loose, the sides smashed in, the lining running out, anti tho top off.— ‘ Bout that time I turned my eye, and that- stood Buffer a boldin’ his hat—jest as good as new, and all in shape sir, I looked at it twieet—no mistake, it was whole. “ Sez he, ‘ You ought t’ get a Spring Hat—a Shappoh Mechanic, its the French call ’em. I’ve one here ! An’ then he ups and shows the whole insides of it,at’ the hull lot of women looked at him like if he’d had a stove-pipe chock full of diamonds ; the widder spe cially patternized ‘him, tuck him under her wing, an’giv’me the cold shoulder —straight. Butter’s got her. I’m tired of La Fooshe, an’ am goin’ back to the hills, wliar ar’ no more widders that fel lers can cotton down to with Spring Hats." ■■■ ••• ■ Anew stove has been invented for the comfort of travellers. It is put un der the feet, and a mustard plaster upon the head, which draws the heat through the whole system. Grief is bad for digestion. Lose a pocket book containing two fifties and a ten, and you will not care for food for the next three days. A Word to Girls. “Jane, I most wish one of our girls was a boy !” “ Why, Mr. Clark, what a singular man you are—as much as you think of the girls!” “ Well, the fact is just this,” resumed the worthy husband of tho lady, “I must sot out these trees, and I want someone to steady them for me, else they wont bo set straight. Now if Minny was only a boy, she’d do it com plete !” “ Come, Minny,” said the kind father, as he put his head through the open window, “ Come now ’twont make your fingers ache half as much as ’twill to drum everlastingly on that piano, if it docs tan them. Come, now, shame tho rest of the girls, and don’t make me stop tho team in tho midst of the furrow.— I shall have to, if you dou’t; come, for if I call Bill, why Dennis must stop: he can’t plough alone.” Minny whirls half round on her mu sic stool and looks inquiringly— “ Would you, mother?” is the lan guage of her pleasant eyes. “ Well, now, Mr. Clark,” says Mrs. C., “if you and I a’nt so rich as some, [ don’t see as it is any reason why our girls shouldn’t be brought up ladies ; if they aren’t, it shall not be my fault— I’m willing to work my fingers’ ends off to give them an education—it’s about all wo can give them. I will work out doors if any of us must, though I don’t really think it is a woman’s place.” “ Why, I can’t help thinking strange that you should think of such a thing.” Supposo Minny’s music teacher, or anybody else that we care for, were to come and see her helping you out of doors—why I never should get over it.’ ! * Well, then, I’ll stop the team.” “ That’s right., now,” replied Mrs. C., “and why can’t Dennis help trie trans plant these rose bushes, while Bill is helping you V “Do just as you like ; for my part I think it about as genteel to set out a little plum tree its arose bush; any w-iy thorns aren’t so prickly on ’em.”— So while Mr. C. and Bill proceeded to arrange the plum trees, and Mrs. C. and Dennis follow suit, we will sit in the par lor with the girls, Minny and Louise. Look at this piece of embroidery— isn’t it delicate ! isn’t it magnificent! look iit the stitches! Don’t think of Hood’s “ Song of a Shirt,” but think of somebody’s “ Song of a Fire-screen,” yet unsung. Stitch, stitch, stitch ; days, weeks—early and late, till eyes ache and fingers stiffen. “ Well now, love, I should really like to help father do that.” “So should I; but then, as mother says, I shouldn’t just like to have any. body that we care for see me.” “As to that, every body knows how hard mother works, and I do sometimes think ’tis too bad. Nobody thinks any the less of Lucy Hayden for doing ail sorts of work. Some ono said that the other day when Professor G. called to hear her jilay, she was out in tho yard spading; she has a spade of her own; and that she never thought of making an apology, but walked into the house, after placing her spade in the tool-house mid played until the Professor was actu ally delighted with her music.” “Yes, I know it all,” says Louise; “she can do any kind of kitchen work as well as she can play. But now I’ll tell you how’tis, Minny, rich folks enn do any thing of that kind, and it will pass muster, you know, mother says so; but ’twould not do for us. Why, Hay den could buy and sell father forty times over. I know mother works very hard, and sometimes I am ashamed when I am asked, “if mother does such and such things, Sr if we do them.” “ Well, now, Minny, I toll you just what I think, anybody can do house work, that has half common sense, and get along complete, and no credit to them, either; but it is not every one that cau embroider like that,” (holding up the fire-screen,) “ paint on glass, or make wax flowers,” (pointing at a stand in tho corner of the room,) “besides it’s disagreeable, house-work is to me; it’s too short a step from tho sublime to the ridiculous for me to take ; so let us quit the subject and take a walk, for I feel the need of exercise.” So, render, we will tako our leave. This is no fancy sketch, but actual truth, and it is to be regretted that the observation of not a few in our country towns will attest to its truth If wo admit, as our observation will compel us to, that this untrue view of life is taken too often by mothers, as well as daughters, then wo must own that such wrong views are at variance with our true relations, and are sure to end in disappointment and unhappiness. If there is beauty in fitness, then there is nothing beautiful in a mother’s allowing herself to be overworked, or overburden ed with care, while her grown-up daugh ters are, as is too often the case, overbur dened with mere superficial accomplish ments, to the neglect of much that is really of solid worth. Out of-door employment, by this we mean actual labor of some sort, if we are to ciedit the testimony of our best physicians, will act as a powerful pre ventive of that extreme delicacy and in validism to which our young ladies are fast becoming victims. 'Where is the sensible person who would think a whit the less of a young lady for assisting her mother in the kitchen, or her father in the garden or the orchard? Girls, we love music, but to our car there is no music in the long drawn sigh of a kind but overindulgent moth er, worn down with sorrow and years of fretting care. Girls, we love painting, but wo must look sometime longer, in this light,in that shade, before we see touches of beauty, or exquisite loveliness, in a picture of what we fear some of you will be—shift less wives On Fretting. “ Fret not. thyself,” says the Psalmist. Mankind have a proneness to fret them selves. Their business does not‘prosper according to their expectations; compe tition is sharp; those in whom they confided prove treacherous ; malice and envy hurl their envenomed shafts; do mestic affairs go contrary wise; the wicked seem to prosper, while the right eous are abased. In every lot there is ample material lomakeagood of, which may pierce and rankle in our souls, if we are only so disposed. Fretting is of the nature of certain diseases, assuming various types. Dis ease is sometimes acute—coming on suddenly in the inidst of health, aud with but little premonition, raging vie lently through the system, causing fever and racking pains; soon reaching its crisis, and rapidly running its course, either to kill or to bo cured. So with fretting. At times it overtakes the con stitutionally and habitually patient and gentle. Strong provocation assails them unawares, throws them off their guard, upsets their equanimity, and causes an overflow of spleen that they did not know was in them to that degree.— Even the gentle may thus have occasion for taking hoed to the injunction, “Fret not.” Diseases, however, often assume the chronic type, becoming erabeded in the system, deranging its organs, interfering with the performance of tho natural and healthful functions, and lingering year after year, like a vampire, to extract the vital juioes. In like manner fretting bo comes chronic. Peevishness, irritability, censoriousness, complaining, indulged in, assume ahabit; gaining thereby strength and power, until the prevailing temper is fretfulness. It argues a sadly disease ed condition of the soul, when this dis temper becomes one of its fixtures. To such an one everything goes wrong.— The whole mechanism of society is thrown out of gear; instead of moving smoothly, as when lubricated by the oil of kindness and oharity, its cogs clash, and its pivots all grate harshly. Learn to Cook Well. The health of the family depends upon it. We know there are those who associate luxury, effeminacy, and all the dependent ills, with every attempt of the kind recommended. But we do not believe that health is promoted by eating raw carrots or doughy bread—or, that to secure long life, it is necessary to turn cannibal. Now is it necessary, in order to slum shun the errors of which wo speak, to run into the opposite extreme. Good cookery does not consist in producing the highest seasoned d : shes, nor such ns to foster a morbid appetite: but in pre paring every dish well, however simple or common it may be. There are, f r instance, families who never eat any good bread from one century to another, and have no idea in what it consists. Nor are meats cooked any belter in their precinct. Those little, simple, and healthy delicacies, which the good house-keeper knows intuitively how to produce, are never seen hero. Even a dish of potatoes cannot get themselves well boiled. These things ought not to be, nor is there any need of their ex istence, if the wife has any just notion of her obligations to herself and those about her. The science of bread making, of meat broiling, stewing, roasting, or boiling of vegetable cooking, and of preparing the multifarious small dishes of all sorts, which go to make pleasant the table, and all about her, are hers to understand and practice. There is a good deal of common sense in the above article, and we rejoice that such a largo majority of our most intel ligent and refined ladies understand the art of cooking well. To do this, is not necessary to boa domestic drudge, with no time to devote to intellectual improvement; hut simple, well cooked! dishes which require hut little time in preparation, a neatly spread table with | an intelligent woman to provide, is more inviting, even to the epicure, than the most elaborate entertainment where the lady who presides is nothing but a cook objections is often make by those of the opposite sex, who are averse to the moral elevation of women, that an intellectual women is unfitted for tho duties of domestic life ; but a verj few men of intelligence are among such objectors, it is not at all necessary tobringany proofs to the contrary. We would only hint to young ladies who may not be particularly in love with the kitchen, that no lady is fitted for the duties of life, unless she is panic* ularly acquainted with the entiro modus operandi of house-keeping. Those who have acquainted false notions of gentdi ty, those whose minds never rose above the frivolties of fashionable life, are those who are poor house keepers and bad cooks, while the intelligent who can trace the relations of cause ami effect who understand woman’s duties and responsibilities, will never consider tiie trifles which make up the stun of every day happiness as beneath the notice of her cultivated powers. A truly intel ligent and well educated woman must necessaiily be a good cook aud a good housekeeper. “I think,” said Mrs. Partington, get ting up from the hr« akfast table, “ I will take a tower, ergo upon a d’tscui sion. The hill says, if I collect rightly, that the party is to go to a verv plural spot, and to mistake of a cold collection. I hope it won’t he so 1, cold as ours for tho poor, last Sunday; why there warn’t efficient to buy a feet of wood for a res titute widder.” And the old lady put on her calash. A Western publisher lately gave no tice that ho intends to spend fifty dollars for the purpose of getting up a “new head ” for his paper. The next day. one of his subscriber dropped him Un following note : “ Don’t do it. Better keep the money and buy anew bead for the editor." NUMBER 32 The Anvil and the Bellows.—A. blacksmith who fancied himself sick, would often tease a neighboring physi cian to give him relief. The physician knew that he was perfectly well; but being unwilling to oifund him, told him he must be careful of his diet and not eat anything heavy or windy. The blacksmith went off satisfied; but on revolving in his own mind what kind of food was heavy or windy, returned lo the doctor, who having lost temper with his patient, said, “ Don’t you know what things are heavy and windy ?” “No,"said the blacksmith. “ Why, then I’ll tell you,” said the doctor, “ your anvil is heavy, and your, le’lows are windy; don’t eat either of these, and you will do well.” Gunpowder is comparatively a mod ern invention, or discovery, it is diffi cult to say which, for its origin is lost, and pit is not known whether it waa an accidental discovery or whether it was the result of deliberate seeking. It is ' said to have been known to Roger Ba- I con in the latter part of the 13th ceu-. | tury. It was used in the discharge of cannon in the 14th century. Some suppose that it was known to the Chinese long before its introduction into Europe. The Chine’, ere a queer people to go to market. A gentleman at Canton writes that a neighbor of his had just laid in his winter’s provisions—a hind quarter of a horse and two barrels of bull dogs.” An elderly gentleman, travelling in a stage coach, was amused by a constant lire of words kept up between two ladies One of them at last kindly inquired if their conversation did not make his bead ache, to which ho replied, “ No, ma’am, I have been married twenty eight years.” Marriage resembles a pair of chears, says Sidney Smith, so joined that they can not be separated, often moving in opposite directions, yet always punishing anv one who comes between them. A Missonri editor announces that the publication of his paper will be suspend* ed for six weeks, in order that be may visit St. Louis with a load of bear-skins, hoop-poles, shingles, oak-bark and pick led cat fish, which he had taken for sub scription. The latest Irish bull we read of is the case of an Irish gentleman who, in order to raise the wind whereby to relieve him self from jieeuniary embarrassment, got his life insured for a large amount and then drowned himself! In Paiis, apothecaries are obliged to put up all poisons in red paper, while white labels must be used for medicines intended for internal application. “Salary” comes from solarium, an al lowance of salt money, or salt, among the Romans, wherewith to savor their food. So when we say a man does not earn his salary, it is equivalent to saying he does not “earn his salt.” There is nothing on earth so beautiful as the household on which Christian love forever smiles, and where religion walks, a counsellor for its twin stars are centered in the, soul. No storms can make it tremble, for it has a he ivenly support and a heavenly an chor. The home circle surrounded by such influence, lias an ante-post of the joys of a heavenly home. A clergyman was once asked wheth er the members of a church, of which lie had the care, were united. He re plied that they were perfectly united —“ frozen together.” Dcnup on Debt. —“ It must be con fessed that my creditors are singularly unfortunate. They invariably apply the day after I have spent all roy mon ey. I always say to them :—‘Now this is very provoking. W by didn’t you couie yesterday, and I could have paid you in full!’ But no, they never will. They ree.ii to take a perverse pleasure hi arriving always too late. Its roy belief, they do it on purpose -