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SOUTHERN WATCHMAN.
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A 1)V hiHTTsFNO. I
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■ • 'rjfyd as advorti-^oroeuts.
^usi’ttss ant' ^professional Carts.
i >1. WYNO & "CO., Dealers in
j\ • i: \KD\YAltli. CROCKERY, china and
til ■ . r.'ud Ste -ct, Aiken?. Ga. tf
4 tiikns stka^companyT-
r\ t; > lcKKUSOX. A cent and Superintendent.—-
v l n,, r> <>t Circular Saw Mills, Steam En-
'■ fs ]■■ , r ,-iits and LUting FU.MFS SH.VFTfxu and
v ui\i:kv ; Mim. Gin- ami all ptlicr kinds of GEAR-
l',i It ns tif.'l R«a»s t*ASTix(is, of every description.
tyjillf.Nt;, Kcptaring and Finishing promptly exo~
;xi -t pattern.* of Iron Fencing. Terms, c.vsn.
r\ 'V.&H. R. J- LONG,,Wholesale
Y • ar.1 !:• tail DRUGGISTS, Athens, Ga.
L. MuGLKSKEY, M.D., having
> p.-rinancntly U»cutod in Athens,will continue
, r Medicine and Surgery. Residence, that
.cv.tjded bv Mr. Chase—Office, at home, whtro
v Ire found. _ tf •
A. LOWKANCE, Surgeon I)en-
T1ST. Athens, Cm, 0!Tue on CollogeAvenue,
Jewelry store of Mejfn. Talmndgc A Winn.
(r 1LLELAN D, Dentist, Wnt-
kmsville, Ga., respectfully solicits tho patron-
!:c surrounding eo.tnUy. Full satisfaction will
[vrn in hi. profusion. tf - ,
M. KENNEY, (next door to the
it;,iik , f Athens.) constantly keeps on hand STA-
id i'ANCY DRY GOODS, and Choice Family
, cheap f"v cash, or t" prompt customers.
>1. M ATT HEWS, Attorney at
• I.AW, ltiitticlsville, Ga. M.vy t. v
M. CHRISTY, Plain and
p.OOK AND JOB PRINTF.R, Broad St.,
Office Corner Broad and Wall streets, over
.in ••■tn A Pittard. tf
G
u
tr.flh
II
r
TOll N
tit* 't ire «*t
1 1.0 KELLEY, Photograph and
»" . AMllHOTVPE ARTIST. Rooms on Broad and
er the
store of John R. Matthews,
MarS-tf
J
l\. DA VIS, Land Broker, Collec-
i ion ;nul GEXBKAL AGKNT, Augusta, Ga.*
v ilt.'ii l' il to in nnv county ot the State.
• f Jachicn and Ellis streets.
Office
I P. MASON & CO., Bookbinders.
•f , i . r Rulers and Blank Rook Manufacturers,
I V, r. ot, Atlanta, (Jo. J. II. Citr.iSTV, Agent,
x july22-ly_
BATMAN & SUMMEY, Dealers In
.1 11 AliDWARK and ClTTLERY, cornor of Broad
»'f IVti’i ..treats. Athens. Gtt. if
IplTXKiL ENGLAND & EREE-
II M AN, Wholesale aud Rctoil Dealers in GROCE-
|l. , Vi"" AMD W.\1*E, SHOES A BOOTS,
l^a.l Street, Athena. Un». tf
l> BARRY* Fashionable Boot and
SHOE MAKER, Broad street. Athens, Go., i*
in readiness to fill orders i:i his line.
\\\M. G. DELON Y, Attorney at
' 1 RAW. Athens, G.u, wfil attend promptly toall
. .trusted to his core. Office on Broad streot.
h 1- M. Kenney’s store. tf
[\ r M. PHILIPS, Attorney at Law,
II M trietta. Gd., will practice in all the counties
l! ,■ itidso Circuit, in tbo connty of Fulton, of the
i < ntf, B )n the S’.tprct io Court, and in the U. B.
; 'A art at .Marietta.
'HITE & BITCH, Wholesale &
1 Retail CMJTMKRB ond MERCHANT TAI-
if. Hr .ad street, Athens. 'In.
CM. N VVHITE, Bookseller and
' I'ATTON.EH, nud Newspaper and Magaaine
rest—I*. in Mu.de .I Musical InstniinenU. Lamps.
I Ctidvry.) aney tlonf’.s, Ae.,corn«r Bnmd Street and
i* Avenue, Ordeie jtroiuptly filled at Augusta rotes.
GLOBE "HOTEL,
AvltJUNtH, G*.
AVstix Mil.LARKY, PROPRIETOR.
pTR'K. - Passengers ttoldijg Through Ticket.*, will
vrartied to aud from tbijdiotel free trf.tetiiluM
. Feb. 27,—ly
■ REMOVAL.
I *11. sehscriber has renoved Ills Boot and Shoe Es-
’•luucnt to his former stand on the <wst side of.
street, where he will bo plcnsod to wait on his
r - md the pubHe.l
CHARLES HUGHES.
BLACKS MITHING.
REMOVAL,
I r ■ ril.,r has removed bis shop t* 4 tho stand
t ' ^oly orc t>piedby J. B. Burpee, corner ot .Tiu'k-
t ; ( ' 1VU, 0 streets—••here be is ready to have
in 'he Plaeksuii thing line promptly executed.
J. M. ROYAL.
"•r. New Orleans >Sj rttp ;
bait el,If. .. ' . .. I
Dbcsp tor cash. J. I. COLT.
• Ko. 11 and 12, Frutkliullauso Building.
Buggies! Buggies!
KhGGlKS,
""..Miani'i Bugjy, ■ :
"iir Hi.rse Wagon, ■
j l" ' II rrc Wagotr, " . M ; ■
1 n ' . ,,r "° Wag m; ' A -
j p 1 . 1 ;- rl -Raw and yoinplate,
, fw tarry-Log WacoU, '
I,; eoinpb to, second .hood,
. • baggy and Wagon Bpokes.
MvvA. l‘uh a and Felloes, EnamolHd Cloth, Pat-
j \' ’"So.v and Vfutfon. llamcsr, aU kinds of
L‘ Baltu, Harness, Sole and Upper
1,.: . F<ir eale lew bv JOHN II. NEWTON.
AN ELOPEMENT.
“Frank,it am going to be married.’’
“To tv what, liob
“Married ’’
“Married, Bob!’’
“Ay. married, why not ? and to-morrow
eveningu* •
“Who can be such a fool ?”
1 spoke rather thoughtless: to be sure,
but it was so natural. Bob was a clever ‘
fellow—one ot that class of people who
lend umbrellas aud penknives, a very
good natured fellow was Bob. And eve
ry body called him a good natuned fel
low—but every body said they called
him so, “what a pity he had not a little
more sense.’ 1 He would do any thing
for you, and you might do any thirtg for
him, as for his b ing offended, it was
something he never dreamed of, and in
fact people said he did not know enough
to be offended—a very good malicious
observation, undoubtedly ; but one that
somehow gained wondrous credit. I was
at a loss to imagine who Boh could have
•mposed upon so much as to persuade to
become his wife, and ran through the
whole of nursery nuyds and milliners’ ap
prentices that 1 had ever seen, without be
ing able to arrive at auy satisfactory con
clusion. I spoke therefore, my thoughts
when I said, “ Wno can be such a fool ?’*
“Fool!” said Bob, without compre
hending that remarks meant other than a
general one, “Yon think a lady is a fool
for being married do you ?”
. “Only under particular circumstances,”
I replied.
“But there are difficulties in the way.”
“1 should think there might be.’’
“And l rely upon you to assist me,’*
“Rely, my clear Bob, I would do al
most any thing to ob ige you; but don’t
thiuk-1 could persuade a lady to man y
you. I am not eloquent. Beside's I have
a conscience”-—
“Oh, she has^consented,—butherfath
er—these fathers you know, are always
in the way—l have not asked him, but
she says it will be of no use, and so we
must elope. To-morrow evening is the
appointed time, and you, I am sure, will
not refuse us your assistance.’’ /
I concluded that if any lady was fool
ish enough to run away with Bob I
should uot be to blame for assisting them
to do the thing handsomely. I also quiet
ed my conscience, by thinking that if
tli tugs looked very bad, I would carry the
fair immortal to the insane hospital and
send for her friends. So I consented.
“I will assist you, Bob.”
“Thank you; I will call and arrange
matters with you in the morning. Good
evening.’’
‘ Good evening, but stop one moment
—who is the lady ?”
“Didn’t I tell you ? Marianna F
I was glad that it was evening, aud
Bob could not see my face. Ithink it must
"have turned all colors. I leaned against
the house for support. Gould it be possi
ble ! Marianna F , my Marianna ^
she whose devoied slave I had been for
six mortal weeks—to whom I had written
reams of red hot letters—for whose sake I
had given upsmoking, and gone to church,
with the regularity of the sexton, merely
to look upon her pretty face ; to whom I
had sworn tnore vows than I could ever
perform, should I live to the age of Me
thuselah—whom for six weeks I had
flirted withal! the morning—danced with
all the even ing, and serenaded half the
night. She of all others, to jilt me—to
elope to runaway, and with such a fel
low as Bob,—a fool, an idiot. Alas! They
say .
“Jove laughs at lovers perjuries.’!'
The old fellow must keep up A terrible
^giggling. I went home melauchcjly, as
may well be imagined; it is no slight
thing ton sensitive man like me, to be
jilted, after a six weeks honest and faith- \
ful courtship. I doubted in what way j
to co jit raft suicide. Arsenic is so very :
disagreeable ; hanging *is so abominably j
vulgar; and for stabbing and sticking,.|
that is too much like the way they kill
•'■r 16.
pee Southor,a Express Co.
* ■ Notice.
br '*“3bt back
1 -'vU
tr' ;—
.“ousa and;
fcl iW r °«*r« for
7*nu' m< ’* : veil v|
rkc ™
t. ' : j{ repair. '
► .5''"S"* «o*cet_
calves and sheep'.
At ten o’clock I stood with George F
-Marianna’s brotlier, and my most
particular friend.
“George, I aca goiug to kill myself.’’
“You had be tter hot, Frank—take a
glass of wine.’’
“Before this flight closes I shall be a
dead man.”
“Then you willke so-ry for it before
morning, my word for it—capital wine
this l imported myself.”
‘George, you are my most p
friend,*
tale of tribulation, for I can’t keep my
face screwed up ;in this manner long.”
• “You are aware, George, of the pecu
liar situation in which I stand, in relation
to Marianna. Circumstances have oc
curred, which convince me that I have
been most cruelly deceived ; life is no
longer desirable or even endurable.”
“Fudge ! find another girl—I can show
you a girl worth a dozen of her. You al
lude, I suppose, to the affair of Bob ?’
“f do, but I was not aware that you
knew any thing about it
“Yes; they have made me their confi
dante. I am to provide the horse. Bob
says you promised to be a groomsman—I
would have taken the office myself, but
it would not do for me to be known, in
the affair. It would he deemed uncivil
for you to kill yourself just before the
wedding,'Frank.”
“And is it possible that Marianna has
confided this to yon ? Did she say noth
ing of me!”
“Oh yes she said something about you
—wished you much happiness; very sor
ry to disappoint you;and valued your
friendship, and all that you know. I told
her you would not care a ceut; would be
glad to get rid of her—and really Frank,
I.did not thiuk you would be so much
troubled by so trifling au affair; I have a
dozen lady loves, and you shall have
your choice of them.”
I thanked my friend for his generosity,
but he evidently aid not understand my
feelings.
To bear is to conquer our fate. Strange
as it may seem, I resolved, to accept the
invitation of Bob, to be present at the
wedding—to reproach the faithless fair
one for h re Mistaucy* even bofore the al
tar—aud after liaviug shown my gener
osity and magnanimity by giving her up
when I cmiid’nl help it, I would commit
suicide at my leisure.
The clock struck nine and I stood at
the appointed place two squares off—we
did not dare to go nearer on account of
the noise. Bob had gone for the lady p
lie soon appeared with her leaning on his
arm. She was closely muffled andher veil
was down. She passed me without re
cognition, though the street lamp shone
full in my face, and I was so near that I
touched her dress. 1 thought she seem
ed taller than she ever did before, and
her step was unusually heavy. “Dread
fully agitated,” whispered Bob, as she
entered the carriage, “hasn’t spoke a
word since she left the house,” I closed
the door and mounted the box with the
driver, for the double purpose of point
ing out the way, and leaving the lovers
to an uninterrujrte.d tele a fair. We dash
ed over the pavement at a killing pace ;
the hoofs of our horses struck fire at ev
ery bound. 1 pulled out a box of loco-
focos aud lighted a cigar. There is no
thing iu the world for a broken heart
like tobacco; I grew easier at evey pnff,
and my heart lightened with every whiff
of smoke that rose gracefully over my
head. In a qpuple of hours we ar
rived at our place of destination.- “Still
agitated,” whispered Bob as he descended
the steps; “she has not said a word while
we have been in the coach, and con
sidering what a talker she is, it is won
derful.”
We were too early by an hour, and aft
ter some consultation, Bob concluded to
go for the clergyman, and leave the bride
elect in my charge, having first conduct
ed her into the house. 1 walked be
neath her window, tossed by a thousand
emotions. At one time resolved to con
duct myselt with stoic indifference, and
see her given to another; then l Uplf de
termined to rush iuto the room wlrere she
was and claim her as my own. I heard
her bell ring, and in a few minutes l saw
a servant enter her room with something
on a waiter. I continued walking be
fore her windows, till at. last J could res
train no longer—site.might have Tainted
I thought. I entered tlie house and put
a tremulous baud upon the latch of her
door; it yielded' to the pressure, and I
stood in the presence of the “lost love of
mine. Good Jieavens! an l live; there sat
a lady with her feet on the table, a cigar
in her mouth, and a glass of smoking, hot
whisky punch beside her !
“What in the name of thunder does
this mean r”
“Ah. Frank, I thought you had com
mitted suicide,” answered the famil iar
voice of my friend George F. escaping
-through the wilderness of bonnets, caps
and tabs. . - ? 1 Y r '?
“George, explain youifielf!”
“I thiuk.my situation explains itself;
you see that your friend Bob has eloped
with me,we shall in ail probability be mar
ried in au hour.”
“I wish him joy of his bride, with all
in the prettiest crow quill you ever saw.
That brought a reply from the gallant
Bob. In a few days we had an elojiement
regularly contrived. The poor fellow
never suspected anything, for though Ma
rianna refused to see him whenever he
called, and scarcely nodded to him in the
street, I explained all in my letters, and
he was perfectly satisfied. Thr rest you
know,aud here I am now, F.-.j.l,” tak-
iug the cigar out, and finishing bin glass
of punch at a draught, “don’t yon think l
make an excellent lady? Rather too tall
for Mari's, dress, to bo sure, butt short
frocks are all! the.fashiou.”
I did not wait for th& ardent lover .to
return, but hastened homewards. ‘ If you
still conclude to commit suicide,?’ said
George, as I turned away, “leave me your
watch!”
THE TERES BRIDES.
‘Do you see,’ said tho Sexton, ‘those
three hillocks yonder, side by side ?—
There sleep three brides whose history I
am about to relate. Look' there, s ir, on
yonder hill, you may observe a little iso
lated house, vntlra straggling fence in
front, and a few stunted apple trees 6n
the ascent behind it. It is sadly out of
repair now, and tho garden is all over
growu with weeds and brambles, aridthe
whole place has a desolate appearance.
If the wind were high now, you might
hear the old crazy shutters Happing against
the sides, and the wind tearing the gray
shingles off the roof. Many years ago,
there lived iu that house ah old man and
his son, who cultivated the few acres of
arable land which belong to it.
‘The father was a self-taught man,
deeply versed iu the mysteries of science,
and, as he could tell the name of every
flower that blossomed iu the woods and
grew in the garden, and used to sit; , up
late at nights at his books, or reading; the
mystic story of the starry heavens, men
thought lie was crazed or bewitched, and
avoided him, aud even hated him as
the ignorant ever slum the gifted and en
lightened. A f«w there were, and among
others the minister and lawyer and physi
cian ot the place, who showed some uri-
wiJlingn*SBT to. afford him countenance ;
but thay soon dropped his acquaintance,
for they found the old man somewhat re
served and morose, aud moreover, their
vanity was wounded by discovering the
extent of his knowledge. To the minister
he would quote the Fathers the scriptures
in the original tongue,and showed himself
well armed with weapons of polemical
controversy. He astonished the l iwyerhy
his profound acquaintance with jurispru
dence ; and the physician was surprised
at the extent of his medical knowledge.
So they all deserted him, and the!.minis
ter, from whom the old maa differed in
some trifling points of doctrine, spoke
very slight of him ; and by- an4 by all
looked upon the self-educated farmer with
eyes of aversion. Bat he little cared fot
that, for he derived his consolation from
loftier resources, aud in the ;>tu.racked
paths of science found a pleasure as in the
pathless wood! lie instructed- his son
in all his lore—the language, litefatHrb,
history, philosophy, science, vmre unfold
ed, one by one, to the 'enthusiastic son
of the solitary. Years rolled away, and
the old man died. He died when astorm
convulsed the face of nature, when the
wind howled arounddiis sheltered dwell
ing and the lighlnng played above the
roof r and though he went to Heaven in
faith and purity, the vulgar thought
arid said that the Evil 'Chie bad claimed
his own in the thunder and commotioji
of the elements, hermuot paiut to you
the grief of the soli at his bereavement.
He was for a time as one distracted. The
jniilister came and uttered a faw cold and
a.few coiiLiuaiihollow phrases iu his eai ;
a.few neighbors, impelled by curiosity
to see the interior of the old man’s d well
ing, came to his funeral. With a proud
and lofty look the son stood above the
.dust, arid the dead.in the midst, aud the
as the band of hypocritical mourners with
a pang at his heart, bui a serenity on. his a
hriiw. ■ He thanked his friends for their
kindness, acknowledged their courtesy,
, and'then strode away from the grave' ttr
bvty his grief iu the privacy of his des- '
desolate d wel 1 i r - k j
‘.He found, at first,.the solitude of the
mansion almost insupportable, .and he
paced.the echoing gfiioo's from morning
till ill . *. iu all the agony of wo anddes-
^olatjou, v iinly imploring Heaven for re-|
lief; It came to hint-first in the guise of
{ poetic inspiration lie wrote with a Wop-
j derfuj ease and power: Page after page
came from Ids prolific^ peq, without an
I effort; add there Was a time when be
dreamed (vain fool) of immortalijy.—
Some of his productions came before the
uow he began to yearn forth© companion
ship of some sweet being of the other sex,to
share the laurels'he had won, to whisper
consolation in his ear in moments of des
pondency, and to supply the void which
the death of his old father had occasion
ed. He would picture to himself the
felicits of refined intercourse with a high
ly intellectual and beautiful woman, and,
as he had chosen for his motto—what
has been done may still be done'!—he did
not despair of success. In this village
lived three sisters, all beautiful aud accom
plished.' Their names were Mary, Ade
laide, aud Madeleine. I am far enough
past the 3ge of enthusiasm, but nevercan
I forgldl the beauty of those young girls.
Mary was the youngest, a.fair-haired,
more laughing damsel never danced upon
a green. Adelaide, who was a few years
older, was dark-hatred and pensive; but*
of the three, Madeleine, the eldest, pos
sessed the most fire, spirit, cultivation, and
intellectuality. Their father was a man
of taste and education, and beingsome what
above vulgar prejudice, permitted the
visits of the hero of my story. Still he
did uot altogether encourage the affection
Which he found springing up between
Mary and the poet. When, however, he
found that her affections were engaged, he
did not withhold his consent from her mar
riage, and the recluse bore to his solitary
mansion the young bride of his affections.
Oh sic, the house assumed a new appear
ance,within and without. Roses bloomed
fti the garden, and jessamines peeped
throngh its lattices, and the fields about
it smiled with the effects of careful cul
tivation ; lights were seen iu the little
parlor in tlie eveniug, aud many a time
would the passenger pause by the garden
gate to listen to the strains of the sweet
music, breathed by coral voices from the
cottage. If the mysterious student and
his wife were neglected by their neigh
bors, what cared they ? Their endearing
and mntual affection made their home a
little paradise. But death came to Eden.
Mary fell suddenly sick, and after a few
hours’ illness, died in the arms of her hus
band and her sister Madeline. This was
the student’s second heavy affliction.
Days, months rolled on, and the only
solace of the bereaved was to sit with the
sisters of the deceased and talk ot the lost
one. To Adelaide, at length, he offered
his widowed heart. She came to his lone
house like the dove, bearing the olive
branch of peace aud consolation. Their
bridal was not one of revelry aud mirth,
for a recollection brooded over the hour.
Yet they lived happily ; the husband
again smiled, and with a new spring, the
rose again blossomed in their garden.
But it seemed as if a fatality pursued this
singular man —When the rose withered
and the leaf fell, in the mellow autumn
of the year, Adelaide, too, sickened and
died, like her younger sister,, in the arms
of her husband and of Madeleine.
‘Perhaps you will think it strange,
young in *.u, that, after all, the wretched
survivor acini stood at the altar. But he
was a mysterious beifig, whose. Ways
were inscrutable, who, thirsting for do-
me c tic bliss, wasdoomed-ever to seek and
never to fittd it. His third bride was
Madeline.. .1 well remember her. She
was a beauty, iu the true sense of the
word. It may seem strange to you to
hear the praise of beauty from such lips as
mine ; but I cannotavoid expatiating upon
hers. -She might have sat upon a throne,
aud the most loyal subject, the proudest
peer, would have sworn the blood within
her veins had descended from an hundred
kings. She was a proud creature, with
a tall commanding form; and raven tresses
that floated, dark and cloud-like, over her
shoulders She was a singularly gifted
woman, and possessed of rare inspiration.
She loved'the widower for his power and
his fame, and she wedded him.—They
were married iu that church. It was on
a summer afternoon—L recolleet it well.
During the ceremony, the blackest cloud
I ever saw overspread the heavens like a
pall, and, at the,moment when the third
bride pronounced her vow, a clap of thun
der shook the building to the ceutre. All
the females shrieked, but the bride herself
made the response with a steady voice,
and her eyes glittered with wild fire a&she
gazed upou.her bridegroom. He remark
ed a kin$ of ..incoherence in herexpress-
ions as they code homeward, which sur
prised him at tfie : thne. Arrived at his
bouse she sank upon the threshold; but
this tyas tlie timidity of a maiden. When
they were alone he clasped her liand—it
was as cold os ice! He looked
face—
‘She spread her long, white arms, and
stood like a maniac before him,’said the
sexton, rising in the excitement of the. mo
ment, and assuming .the attitude he de
scribed ; ‘arid then, continued he in a hol
low voice, ‘at that m iment came the thun
der and the flash, and the guilty woman,
fell dead on the floor!’ The-countenance
of the narrator expressed all the horror
that he felt.
‘And the bridegroom,” asked I ; “the
husband of the destroyer and the victims
—what became of; h im?’
‘He stands before you,’ was tho thriil-
iug answer.
said he, “what
“ Madeline,
gown !”—The bride uttered a fiai
iKripfc
On Domestic Employments.
BY MRS. S1GOUKNET.
We ha ve been amongst the admirers
of Mrs. Sigourney as a poetess, aud her
productions- as- a prose writer have heigh
tened our respect. The subjoined ax-
tract is taken from an essay of this real
ly philosophical writer. The essay is
addressed to her own sex, but the gener
al conclusions apply, if possible, with
more force to the opposite sex, upou
whom the sterner duties of life depend.
In softening and sweetening the duties
of.private life, are the obligations less
binding on men than on women ? The
fact is, it demands exactly the same amia
ble qualities in every member of a fami
ly, to make the domestic hearth the hea
ven of happiness.
^ I have even thought it desirable that
young ladies should make themselves the
mistresses of some attainment, either in
.art or science, by which they might se
cure a subsistence, should they be reduced
to poverty. Sudden and entire rever
ses are uncommon in the history ot afflu-
euce. To sustain them without the means
of lessening the evils of dependence,
when health and intellect are at our com
mand, is adding helplessness to our own
affliciiou, and increasing the burthen of
others. When the illustrious Henry
Laurens, by the fortune of our war of
Revolution, was held a prisoner in the
Tower of London, he wrote to his two
daughters, who had been nurtured in all;
the tenderness and luxury of Carolina
wealth: It is my duty to warn you to
prepare for the trial of earning your daily
bread by your daily labor. Fear not ser
vitude ; encounter it, if it shall be neces
sary, with the spirit becoming a woman
of an honest and pious heart; oue who
has been neither fashionably nor affected
ly religious.”
The accomplished Madame de Genlis
pronounced herself to be in possession of
thirty trades or varieties of occupation,
by which she coulA, if necessary,' obtain .
a livelihood. It was a wise law of some
of the ancient Governments which com
pulled every parent to'give his. son some
trade or profession, adequate to his sup
port. Such is now the variety of depart
ments nneri to females as instructors in
schools, and seminaries of their own sex,
that they may follow the impulse of their
genius in the selection of a study or ac
complishment, and,while they pursue it
as.a pleasure, can still be prepared to
practice it as a profession. Among the
pleasaut'employments which seem pecu
liarly congenial to the feelings of our sex,
the culture of flowers stands conspicuous.
The genial superintendence of a garden
has been repeatedly found favorable tc
health, by leading to frequent exercise. in
the open air, and that communing with
Nature which is equally refreshing to the
heart. It was laboring with her own hands -
in her garden, that "the mother of Wash
ington was found by the youthfnl Marquis
de Lafayette, when he 'sought her bless- >
irig, as he was abouttocolnmit himself to
the ocean, arid return to his native clime.
Milton who. you recollect was a great ad
vocate that women should! “study house
hold good,” has no more, eloquent descrip
tions than those which re)»rese»t our first
mother at her floral toil aioidthe^ s hi less
shades of Paradise.
The tend ing of flowers has ever appear
ed to me to be a fitting care for the young
an.l beautiful. They, thqp dwell as it
were among their , own emblems, aud
many a voice of wisdom breathes on their
ear from-these brief blossoms to which
they apportion the d6W aud the sun-bean)-
While they eradicate the weeds t’uat de-"|ggtP*
form, of the excrescences jihat endanger
them, is there not a premonition utter-
ed of the work to be done; in their own *
heart? FrraSgffee admiration .of the"
ever-varyiag charriis, how natur
tender spirit led up J :
into her Him “ whose' ha ’
- Fwhose pencil n:i
E•mum