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BY JAMES W. JONES.
The Southern Whig,
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PROSPECTUS
OF THE
SOTOTEJEBf WSE®.
THIS paper formerly edited by Wra. E.
Jones, is now under the direction of the
Mndersigued. The growingimportance of Ath
ens, the state of parties in Georgia, and the
agitation of Certain questions having a direct
influence on southern interests; render it neces
sary that the northwestern part of Georgia
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always on the watch tower,
const ru <■ ti<>n ofthe t ruc spi
the nianituiuae.ee of tile ( fl| * *’• *>?
of the States, the retrekaß ‘ ~
patronage, reform, and a
of ail public officers; moderate,
decided in his censures, “nothing extenuate
setdowu ought in malice,” —to expose pr* mpt
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J. W. JONES.
~~ PROSPECTUS.
AT the late meeting of the Alumni of Frank
lin College, it was unanimously resolved to
be expedient to make arrangements to issue a
Monthly Literary Magazine, to be called
THE ATHENIAN.
The undersigneo were appointed by the So
ciety a committee of publication and joint Edi
tors of the work, until the next meeting of me
Society We have no interest in the work, ex
cept that which we take in the welfare of the
country and honor of the State. We, of the
South, have too long depended upon foreign
parts for our Literature, and neglected our own
talents. We shall be weak so long as we think
we are weak: and dependent until we make ef
forts to be independent. We hope all the friends
of Literature in the State, and especially the
Alumni of Franklin College, will patronize the
enterprise both by word and deed. State pride
the love of Literature, our interest in the cause
of general Education, all call upon us to sustain
an enterprise so nepessary to our improvement,
and the honor of the State.
A. S. CLAYTON,
JAMES JACKSON,
K. D. MOORE,
WM. L. MITCHELL,
C. F. McCAY,
SAMUEL P. PRESSLEY,
H. HULL.
Tme Athbxiax shall issue monthly, on fine
paper, stitched and covered in pamphlet form,
and shall contain sixty-four pages royal octavo.
Nothing derogatory to religion, offensive to any
denomination of Christians, or of any political
party, shall appear in the Athenian. Its pages
shall be honestly devoted to general Literature,
the cause of Education, the Review of new
works, and notices of improvements in Science,
Arts and Agriculture. Price Five Dollars per
annum, payable on the delivery of the first num
ber.
NEW GOODS.
JW. JONES is now receiving and opening
at his STORE IN DEARING’S BRICK
BUILDING, a general assortment of
FALL WINTER GOODS,
Which for VARIETY, RICHNESS AND
SPLENDOR has not been surpassed by apy
stock ever offered in this market. His stock
consists of a very general assortment of
Staple an«l Fancy Dry Good*,
CLOAKS, OVERCOATS, READY MADE
CLOTHING, BONNETS, HATS, SHOES,
CALF AND WATER PROFF 800 IS, Sperm
and Tallow Candles, &c. &e.
Oct. 15, —24—ts
FOUR mouths after date, application will
be m ide to the Honorable Inferior Couit
of Clark county, when sitting for Ordinary
Rirposea, for leave to sell all the real estate of
obert R. Billups, late of Stewart county de
ceased.
ELIZABETH W, BILLUPS, Ex’r,
Nov. 20—30 —4m.
Southern Whig
Twilight Thoughts.
BY DR. JAMES M'HENBY.
When fades the glory of the sky
In a fair summer even,
And whispering spirits flitting by,
Remind the soul of heaven:
When on the misty purple hills
The golden clouds repose,
And shadowy paths by murmcring rills,
A softening charm disclose;
Then is time for those who love,
Amidst the silence of the grove
To court the bliss the witehing hour sup
plies,
Exchanging ardent vows and rapture
speaking sighs.
Now memory to me restores
Full many a scene like this:—
Visions of youth! your visits pours
Through all my feelings, bliss J
I think that in my youthful prime,
With her loved first and best,
I roam in twilights tender time,
And am supremely blest.
I think that in my native bowers.
Once more I spend the blissful hours;
While solitude and beauty mingle round,
My heart is in a spell of sweet enchant
ment bound.
O! leave me not, ye heavenly dreams,
To age’s chilling sway;
But light me with your precious beams.
Through lite’s bewildering way
O ! let me still the warmth enjoy
Os generous feelings strong;
Let ardent thoughts my soul employ,
as if I yet were young:
Enliven age's wintry gloom,
With memory of my vernal bloom,
Then I’ll defy all earthly care and strife,
And bless the gracious Power that sent me
into life.
iHitwraanrouG.
From Frwru/i/iip’j Offering.
The Law Suit.
BY B. W. COX.
It was on the first mr rket.day after I had
commenced practice as a solicitor in a town in
the west of England, that as I was sitting in
my office, poring over the learned Essay of
Fearne on Contingent Remainders, and prepa
red to receive those who might honor me with
their confidence, I heard a knock at the ijoor,
and a slow heavy step upon the stairs. Ail
who have felt the interest and anxiety with
which a young professional man receives the
announcement of business, will understand my
.egiotioiis when the approach of a visitor di-
thoughts from the abstruse doctrines
HMSough ,nv i y cs * ts close-
1 deemed that a law book
'’'■wWJbt at all diminish the confi-
—-if, indeed, such the
new comer should prove.
The door opened, and presented to me a far.
mer, —for such Ins dress declared him. With
much suavity of tone, I entreated hirn to be
seated, and 'hen set mystlf to hear the case
upon which I trusted he was about to consult
me. He was a man evidently going down the
vale of life, for his hair was touched with th
snows of time, and his face was sunken, anti
upon it the care of years had chiselled many
deep hard lines.—Discountenance betrayed an
anxiety which excited in the spectator a feeling
of painful interest. A daik eye indicated the
s‘range compound of shrewdness and simplicity
so remarkable in the English yepm an . His tall
and muscular form was beginning to fade, for
it was somewhat bent, and the rounded limbs of
vonth were yielding to the gnuatness of age.
His dress was that of the better class of yeo
men, o ly that it p eseited an app-arai.ee of
greater neatness and more of the fashion ofthe
day, than is generally studied by the sturdy ag
riculturist, It was evident that he, and ihos<
with whom he lived, were not ignorant of the
comforts, nay, of the elegancies, enjoyed by
the middle classes of this country.
His business was scon declared. He had
heard that I was entrusted with several sums of
money to be advanced on good security. |le
wanted a few hundreds and inquired the terms.
My clients bad resolved to lend money onlv on
land. I asked him if he coqld offer any. I
perceived that his countenance fell as I put the
question.
“ Land !” he said. “ Yes, sir; I have an es
tate, it was my father’s before n;e; but, to be
honest with you, the title is disputed. lam
even now on the eve of trial.”
Further enquiry satisfied me that I could not
recommend the loan. I kindly, but frankly
told him sq. He almost cried. He did not
speak for some moments, but sat with his eyes
fixed on the fire, and his body wqying to and
fro in a vain struggle to subdue his emotion.
I know not what induced him to unbosom him
self t» me. Perhaps he gathered from my
manner that I sympathized with him. What
ever was his motive, he related to me all his
troubles.
€1 ItUUICOi
His ancestors, I learned, had filled the same
station in life with hirnseif. His father farmed
his ovyn estate, and transmitted it to him, and
as he had believed, altogether unincumbered.
Shortly before the death of his parent put him
in possession of this property, he married an
amiable, and, fora fanner’s wife,singularly ac
complished girl, a governess at a neighboring
school. She had the good sense to accoinmo
d te herself to her situation, without altogether
abandoning the studies and refinements
youth. Under her auspices the
assumed a new face; there
for the parlour and ihe^«j^»r'
music, for the ‘
dwelling '
had blessdpF-?
in his gf.-*" ’ seined at home,
educated! *• . •■. .* Wtaleut o| their iu-
estimablAc ; < , /infused into their
young nmK • ? X goodness, trained
them up i^^ : - ajatuc, pqlished their
manners, iirlk*Jßii'ir intellects. Th
eldest was a after her mother,
Julia ; she was grown upto be a useful assist- 1
ant to tho failing energies of her parent; but I
gathered, that of lute, this favorite child had
shown symptoms of disease which had much
alarmed her family, The second was a son,
Robert, who assisted his father in the manage
ment ot the farm, and whose taste for study
kept him ever at home fey the fire side, after
the day’s labour was done, gleaning knowledge
for himself, or imparting his stores to the
younger ones. The cither children descended
by regular gradations to the little Ellen, who
i was a rude, romping, black-eyed tomboy, nine
“WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” Jefferson.
years old. Excepting only the loss of iheir
infant, he said, their passage through life had
been one of uninterrupted happiness, —happi-
ness too great to be lasting. About twelve
months since he had endured a long and se
vere sickness, and before he was Well enough
to resume Ins daily work, he received notice of
an adverse claim to his paternal estate, and,
soon after, a declaration in ejeatmeut. His
illness had somewhat embarrassed him; but
from thjs he soon would have been released by
care qnd frugality, had not the expenses of
the lawsuit added to his burthens. 11 was to
supply the means for trial at the next assizes,
tljat he had asked the loan.
I really felt a great-interest in his hjstory.
and this probably encouraged him so lay be
fore me the points of law which fie understood
his case involved. His defence was already
entrusted to another attorney whom he named ;
he could not, therefore, as he would otherwise
have done, placed it in my hands ; but he en.
treated me to give him the benefit of my as
sistance's tar as etiquette would permit, “for,”
he concluded, “ifit be lost, nine of us will be
ruined. I shall not have a bit of bread for my
children to eat.” I promised to give the pa
pers my best attention, and to communicate
with bis attorney, who, fortunately, was a friend
of my otyn, and, with more cheerfulness, he
hade me a good morning, I having agreed to see
him at his own bouse in the course ofthe ensu
ing ivpek.
I perused the documents with the greatest ■
care, —I referred to the authonties. —I read all
the cases that bore upon the question, and tho’
I could find none precisely in point, the result
of the inquiry was an impression that the ad.
verse claim was valid. I wrote a long letter to
my friend who was conducting the case, apo
logizing for the interference, but trusting that
the deep interest I felt in the issue of the cause
would plead my excuse. I recapitulated to
him my own views, and entreated his. By re
turn of post, I received a very kind and consid
erate reply, assuring me that the writer was de
lighted to have the aid of another in a matter
of so much responsibility. His opinion, which
he gave at length, was certainly more favorable
to his client than mine had been, but by no
means expressive of confidence in t Joe result.—
As I had not very much to claim my care, my
thoughts and studies were, for some days, devo
ted to this business.
I did not forgot my promised visit. A glori
ously bright afternoon invited the most slothful
abroad, and I, who love n* are devotedly, could
not refuse to pay niy court to her on such a
day. The farm was situated about four miles
from the town, and thitherward I turned my
steps, preferring the use of the limbs, which
were not intended for idleness, to the lazy mo
tion of a Carriage. It was the middle of July,
and the weather hot*and close. I selected a
'•re so little used, that the grass, long and rank,
tutted it all over. A wilderness of flowers
waved on the banks on either side of me, and
lite long branches oflhe eglantine, entwining
over head, formed a shady and cool verandah
for the greater portion of my journey. From
this lane, I emerged abruptly upon an exten
sive prospect, bounded by the hills, and imme
diately on my right, perched upon a gentle
swell of the earth, was the retreat I Sought.
The little hill on whose summit it stood, was
planted over with flowering shrubs and ever
greens. Ant at row of poplar trees towered at
its foot, and a few firs and larches gave the
whole an air of gentility seldom seen in the ex.
terior adornments oflhe residence of the Eng.
lish yeomen. I entered this sweet plantation,
and by n path that wound through a multitude
of mazes, gained the house itself. It was a
substantial stone building of an ancient date,
and upon the trellis work w ith which it Was en
compassed, were trained the trumpet and the
passion flowers, and a magnificent monthly rose
now in its full bloom. A clean ’.nd closely
shaven grass-plot surrounded it. The view on
all sides was perfectly panoramic, and, at this
time, inspired feelings which will be understood
by all who have ever gazuij from a neighboring
height on the rich vale of Taunton, in its luxury
of corn fields, and elm groves, and green mea
dows. But I had not long to feast niy eyes on
this vision of plenty, for the appearance ofmy
client himself, followed by two of his little ones,
diverted my attention. He welcomed me with
that cordial hospitality which is common to
those who dwell in the country. I was speedi
ly introduced to the home which he had prais
ed from his heart jn his interview with w at
my office. He had expected my arrival, and
the family were all assembl d in the pai|our.
The bving whose good taste was impressed
upon every tiling around me, was a mild and
lady .'ike matron, somewhat more advanced in
years than her husband. The daughter of
wfiom he had spoken to me with tears, was a
loyelvgirl, full of animation and intelligence;
but I saw, or thought 1 saw, the hectic hue of j
that blight of youth and beauty, consumption,
I sighed us I looked at her. The father per
ceived my thoughts, and turned to the window.
The decorations of the room were simple and
elegant—most of them the productions of the
various members of the family. Some exqui
site paintings in water-colour adorned the wails,
a Iwok-case presented the works of our choicest
authors, with an excellent selection from mod
ern literature, while a piano-forte, and a flute,
showed that the delicate pleasures of music
were among the amusements of this interest
ing family.
I spent a delightful eycnimr, not devoted to
the weather or the farm-yard, as in most coun
try Ik mes, or to scandal, as in towns, but pass,
ed m rational discourse, diversified by a reluc
tant display of the musical talents of Robert
and Julia, who played and sang together with
much taste and skill. A rural repast laid out
on the grass plot before the door finished the
klay. Fruit, a junket and cream, and home
a<le cakes, tempted me to indulge in their
luxury, aud I departed more deeply
' A'JMhpd t h an cver *" fortunes of aiy host.
rißP«?coinpai.ied me about a mile, and snatch-
opportunity to ask my opinion of his case.
I did not w ish to cloud the cheerfulness of that
day, and evaded the question, but his keen per
ception was not to be baffled. “Ah!” he said,
‘•you fear the worst. I know it. Well, God,
help me and my little ones 1 Yau will not de
sert us : the biessing of ad that family will be
given to you.” He paused, and 1 endeavored
to turn the conversation, calling his attention to
i the full moon w Inch was just peeping above the
horizon ; but 1 could not divert his thoughts
from his own distresses. “Well, sir, be said,
“what do you think of Julia ?—Does she not
sing sweetly ?—She has had no instructor but
hpr expelle. t mother. The dear girl looked
better to day t|ian she bad done for weeks p asl >
But she is ill, Very ill: did you bear her cough ?
Oh, sir! when I hear that cough, it seems as it
a dagger was sent through me.” I tried o
che> r him but he would not be comforted.
“Robert is a noble fellow,” continued the
i proud parent, “ high spirited, and yet most £en.
ATHEYS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBUARY 4, 1837.
do. Though he is fond ol his books, he does
not neglect the farm. In the long winter even
ings, he reads ai;d playa to us, and we are so
happy ! But Wc never may be so again;—Eh :
sir ?” 1 could not speak, and, after a short pause,
he continued ; “ I wish you Could see us at oui
Christmas tea-table; it would do your heart
good ! the elder ones at their books or work; my
wife teaching the children, and 1, a pleased and
happy father, smiling to see tfiem so industri
ous, and affectionate. Ah ! sjr, it is a proud
thing to be a father.”
I wru ig his hand at parting, and when I en
tered my lonely chamber, 1 wished myself a
father. I saw him repeatedly at my office, and
in his own house, previously to the trial, and
the more intimate 1 became with this family,
the more 1 loved them.
But 1 noticed, at every visit, a change in the
health and strength of Julia. She declined
daily. They all saw it, as well as I, and when
the invalid had retired to her chamber, many a
tear Was shed by this united family on her ac
count.
The farmer had wrung from me my real opi
nion ofthe case, and it was a sad ,yet a noble
sight, to see how he bore up against the fate
which he believed to be corning upon him ; how
he struggled with sorrow, and made a show of
cheerfulness and confidence in the presence of
his family. But, though the children did not
notice his uneasiness of mind, it did not escape
the fond care of his wife. She discovered it
almost ere it was known to himself; and she
had learned my opinion with a firmness which
surprised me, then little acquainted with the
energy which women often display, iu the most
trying circumstances.
The {assizes st length commenced, and I at
tended my friend to Wells. The night preced
ing the trial, upon which the fortunes of his
family depended, he could not sleep. He re
peatedly called to ask me some question, or to
petnind me es some point which 1 might have
forgotten. 1 hud interested myself so deeply
in the case, that my restlessness was scarcely
less than his. Before da; light 1 wus up, and
in deep consultation with my brother lawyer.
The farmer sat by my side in the court du.
ring the trial. He listened intently to every
word that dropped from the witness : he heard
the arguments of counsel as if be understood
them. He looked at the jury and tried to read
the character of each, as he entered the box,
and pointed out one to me as a benevolent man,
and another as a farmer, who could feel for
him and his family; and a third, again, us an
unhappy wretch who could not sympathise
with the distresses ofthe poor. I did not check
the old man in these comments, fur it wap a
relief to him from the agitation of suspense.
He continually inlerrupted me in the course of
the day, to ask what I thought of the result,
but I could offer little hope.
When the judge proceeded to sum up, my
client, who was seated immediately under the
bench, rose, and leaning over the surrounding
heads, listened to the comments ofthe court. 1
could perceive the colour come apd go upon
his lips and cheeks, as the impartial judge pre
sei.ted the strong and weak points of the case
on both sides.
When the jury turned to consider their ver
dict, the old man resumed his seat; but he did
not for a moment revert his eyes from them,
aud so motionless did he sit, that a stranger
would have said that he was an unconcerned
spectator of the scene. But 1 was so close to
him, that I could see that his hand grasped the
knob of u stout ash slick so convulsively that
the nails were driven into the flesh,
’I he suspense did not long continue ; the jury
turned again. I looked at the aid man at this
moment. He did not move. His breathing
was deep and regular as eyer. I’he associate
had left his seat so that the jury could not de
liver their verdict until he returned, and there
was an anxious pause for a minute or two. I
cou'd scarcely conceal my anxiety, but my cli
ei,t did not move n muscle. At length, aver.
DICT FOR TJIE PLAINTIFF, damages forty shil
hugs, w as returned ; the counsel coolly took up
their briefs to endorse them ; the associate call
ed <>n another cause; the judge eat a bun;
none seemed to know or reflect that the for.
tunes and happiness of a whole fiqpily had been
blighted by that verdict.
Nor would they have learned it but for the
ruined man himself. He, regardless of the dig.
nity of a court of justice, spite ofmy endeavor
to keep him down, stood up at the full height
of his venerable figure, and before the officers
could interfere to silence him, exclaimed.—
“ My lord, and g, ntlemcp of the jury, I have
s ven children, and nothing in the wide world
but this farm. Ifyou take it from us, we must
die or go to the parish, and we would rather
die than do that. Pity me. my lord, and do
not, oh, do not ruin us!’’ The judge rebuked
us for permitting our client to disturb trie pro
ceedings ; but we could tot restrain him.—
Exhausted by the intense agony of the day,
—by the emotions which he hud suppressed,—
by this last effort, —the old man swooned and
was carried to the inn like a corpse.
M hen he recovered, he did not weep nor
groan :he scarcely spoke. He thanked me for
my attention, and calmly urged our immedi
ate return home, where he would be excepted,
and whither he desired first to bear the fatal
tidings. It was yet early i i the day, and we
set forth without delay. Throughout the jour
ney he said but little of the past, and seemed
as little to dwell upon the, future. This quiet,
after such a storm, might have appeared to
some the composure of resignation ; 1 saw that
it was the calmness of despair.
We arrived just as the sun was setting. The
whole family had walked out in the road to
meet us. Robert was the first to hear our ap
proach, ami rqu forward ; but he soon gathered
the truth from my melancholy features. Little
was said when the father met his partner and
their children. He kissed them ail twice but
he did not shed a tear. They wept bitterly.
He looked around him vacantly fora few mi
nutes. “These fields are no longer our own.
Curses on the fiends!” His wife flung her
arms around his neck, aud with sobs aud kiss
es stifled the curse, —the first that ever came
from his lips. Helooked upon the group again
with the same calm countenance. But sud
denly it changed to an expression of horror.
‘‘Where—where is Julia,” he muttered.
They told him she was too jll to corrie out
to meet him.
“ The blight ofheaven is upon me,” he said;
“that sweet girl will be taken from u»a id
for the first tirpe the feelings of the parent tri
umphed, and he burst into a sweet and refresh
ing flood of tears. Bis heavy heart was re-
Sieved.
I shall never forget the scene of that night.
Tfie little parlour, the place of so many happy
hours, was a sad spectacle. Julia lay on the
sofa, gasping for breath, sud strove to speak
them comfort. Someiimes, for minutes to.
gether, not a word was said; they seemed to
feel that the roof under which they had dwelt
so long, was no more their own. The once
social tea was dismissed untasted.
At length, the mother, who had shown more
-lelf-Comtnand than any of them, said to her
husband, “ Robert, we have forgotten our duty ;
we have yet a Friend who will never forsake
ns, —a Comforter, to whom, in sorrow, we
should cry. Robert, my dear Robert, let us
all together kneel before God, and ask hirn to
befriend us;—Mr. C will not object to
join us; this is a time of trpuble for its all,
and the little ones shall pray with us. Hea
ven will hear the petition of a whole family.
I expressed my readiness to join them in
the duty of prayer; the father bowed his head
in token of assent. The tWo youngest chil
dren were setting on his knee, and kissing a
way his tears ; sad themselves because all a
round were so. He rose from his seat, took
the hand of each, and clasping them between
his own, as they knelt by his side, raised them
towards heaven. The mother uttered a prayer
aloud—a prayef evidently dictated byjhe| eel
tngs of the moment. I Joined with all my
soul. I never felt the beauty and sublimity of
prayer so forcibly as I did that night. 1 his
duty done, the hearts of all were evidently r e
lieved,—some eVen began to lay plana forth i
support, and I left them all calm and resigned.
How different was my last visit to that house!
Robert called Upqn me a few days after,
and informed me that his father was more dis
turned than ever ; that sometimes he imagined
the case was not decided, and talked of the
trial as something to come. Julia was grow
ing weaker and weaker, and it was feared that
she could not live many days longer. From
Robert, I gathered th.it he had a double inter
est in the trial, for upon it depended his ue.io i
with a girl to whom he had been lo g attached,
but whose company he woqld now, fn nJless
and peonyless, be forbidden by her calculating
father. I admired the young man a thousand
times the more that his own sorrows had not
been mingled with those of his family. Them
he e idured in silence; but they were not the
less heavy. He bore up against the crowd of
ills like a manly fellow as he was.
We went together to a neighboring village
to seek a retreat for the exiled family until some
employment could be found for them. We
lured neat apartments, and I advised Robert to
remove as soon as possible, for I thought that
the continual presence of that which must soon
be taken from him, would only add to the mise
ry of his father. He promised to observe my
directions. On the third day after this, he
called again,and told me, with tears in his eyes,
that Julia was much worse ; indeed, that she
was fust sinking into her grave. “She,.it least,
will not live to witness our downfall,” he said.
“We must endure all. She is happiest.’’ H
then informed me that he had attempted to fol
low my counsel, and to remove the things to
their new residence ; but his father absolute
ly forbade them, protesting that there was time
enough for that yet, —that he should not quit
the estate, —he did uot believe that he had lost
it. The family strove to bend him, but in vain ;
no e treaties could move him from his pur
pose. I repeated my advice, and showed the
young man a letter, which I had received fr«m
the plaintiff’s attorney, stating, that if the es
tate was not given up by a certain day, they
should resort to the extremity of the law.
I heard nothing from the farm for nearly a
week, and having a leisure as ernoon, I resol
ved to visit the family again, and inquire after
their wants. As I approached the house. 1
could perceive that they had not quitted it, for
Julia’s canary was suspended from the trellis
work of the Window, singing with all his night.
But I could not espy, as usual, the children oi,
the gruss-plot, or a human form moving among
tfie shrubs. The door Was open, and as I pan
sed, I heard the sound of angry voices, and o:
weeping within; I entered vyithout ceremony,
and was instantly attracted, by the continued
noise, to the parlour. There the whole fami
ly were assembled, and among them two stran
gers, in whom I instantly recognised the she
riff’s officers. The old man had thrown him
self into a favorite arm chair, his face pale
with rage, and his eye flashing indignation ;
one of tiis legs was contracted, the other ex
tended in the attitude of defiance. His wife,
kneeling behind him, h .d flung her arms about
his neck, and was sobbing bitterly ; the two
youngest children, crying also, clung to Ins
knees. The dying Julia supported in the arms
of he r brother, gazed at the passing scene
with glassy and bewildered eyes, her wasted
limbs trembling with terror, and that awful
nervousness which often attends consumption.
The other children were standing around them,
sobbing aS if their little hearts would burst.
My entrance was scarcely noticed.
“ Come, sir,” said one of ’he officers civil
ly enough, “we must do our duty. Don’t be
obstinate ”
“ Duty I” exclaimed the father, raising him
self in the chair, and looking at tho speaker
with a frowm of contempt; “duty, indeed!
Is it your duty to turn an honest man out of
house and home, —to se >d a whole family to
the parish? In what page of the Bible do
you find that duty written? From this spot I
will not stir : earth nor heli shall move me!”
“Butthe law ” began the bailiff.
“The law!—ay, the law !” interrupted the
unhappy man; That cursed law has ruined
me; but for the law, I should not be brought
to this. The law calls itself the protector ot
the poor; but it is the weapon of the rich,
Tho law professes to make property secure ;
but it has taken all from me. T1 e law says
every man’s house is his castle; this is my
house—this is my castle ; —and I dare the first
who lifts a finger to force me from it. Here
I sit; I am an old man, but at this moment, I
have the strength of a giant.”
“My dear, dear Robert,” sobbed his wife,
“let us yield calmly to our fate. Obey the
King’s servant.—Let us leave this house ; we
can find another home, where we may be as
happy. With you and your children, all pla
ces will be home to us.”
“Home! did you say, woman?” be exclai
med, leaning to her with the wildness of a ma
niac; “home! is not this our home ? 1 tell
you, sirs, that here I was born, ami here I will
die. On that floor, I first learned to walk;
these walls heard my first cries. In that cor
ner my father used to sit aud tell me old talcs,
and there have 1 sat for twenty years, and re
peated the same tales to my children—and vet
you ask tne to leave it! I lovo this house,
sirs ; if it were a living thing, 1 could not love
it more; and shall I desert it in niv gray
hairji? Oh ! no, no, no !” and he threw him
self back again into tho chair, and was silo. t.
I here interposed.
“Ah! .Mr. C -»■ ■,”he said, “I am glad
you are come ; these men want to turn me out
of the house. Can’t they wait until the trial
is over ?” Then in a subdued tone, “do you
know when it will come on ?”
I saw that his mind was wandering ; his af
fijeti helpmate saw it also. Before I
could rep y. he conti med: “Mr. C , I
wish the Judge and jury were here to see the
misery they have caused. Mr. C *, I
could not bear to part with this estate ; I k ’ow
every bush and every flower upon it. What
do you think ? I often fancy that the grass is
greener here than in all the country round,
they have promised to bury me under the great
elm ; I could not sleep quietly in any other soil.
I paled off the place, and planted it with lau
rel and holly and primroses; there I will lie,
with all my family around me. and there our
dust shall mingle together with the dust that
was our own. It is a pleasant thought, sir,
eh?”and he smiled; but what a smile!
I endeavored to recall his scattered senses,
and ex; lain the law ly which he was compell
ed to yield possession to the rightful owner, but
I talked in vain.
ft Father, dear father !’’ said Julia, when I
paused, “ will you bear your dying girl?”
The old man turned to her a look of childish
wonder.
"Father.” she continued, “ I have not long
to live. 1 have never desired life till now. 1
could bear to leave you in your happi less, but
not in your riesqlation. Do, dear father, re
sign yourself to th'* wijl of God. He sends
ifllictions upon us here, to prepare us for bliss
hereafter. This has been a long and painful
sickness forme; yet I have endeavored to en
dure it patiently. Pray, father, pray to Hea
ven, and nil will yet be well: I will pray for
you when lam gone away.’’ A fit of cough
ing prevented her saying more. Her exhaus
ted frame could not endure the struggle, and
she f II back upon her pillow in convulsio is.
The family gathered round her, aqd even while
they looked, she died.
This new affliction diverted their attention
from the situation of the father, who still silt
■h -re with the same determined air, and listen
ed unmoved to the wild outpourings of grief
from the mother and children. Robert came
with his eyes full of tears, and his heart burst
ing, and took his hand, endeavoring to lead him
to the sofa, where was the beautifu', but life
less form of his daughter; but the old man
wou'd not move. He then bent and whisper
ed into his ear that Julia was dead.
«• Dead!—dead I—dead!”1 —dead!” lie exclaimed, se.
veral times; "Julia dead! Tell me how she
is.”
" Father, dear father,” sobbed the son, “come
and see.”
“Do s she ask for me? D >es she want to
to see me?” he co..tiaued : '• help, help me to
rise.”
With the aid of his eldest son, the mis trabie
father rose, aud the group that crowdtd round
the d ad Julia opened t > give a passage to the
sofa on which she lay. Reason saetned to
dash again upon him tor a moment, for he gu
zed earnestly at the Lively mortal frame from
which the spirit hud so lately fled; he threw
himself upon the yet warm clay,aud kissed it,
and baihedit with histears; then he rose ano
said solemnly, “ God’s will be done ! She was
a good daughter, and a kind sister. Heave
has thought fit to take her to itself. She has
at least escaped the troubles of tins world, ano
she will uot endure the anguish of parting from
this place, if indeed the lawsuit be given a
gainst us. Let us all kneel—kneel here by
her whose soul is iu heaven, and pray for com
for under our afflictions.” We knelt and the
fxiher offered up a short prayer, which sank
deep into the hearts ot all those who h sard it.
The fit of frei.zy had passed away: h
was now tractable as a child. They tiiigh.
lead him where they would; but if the law
suit was mentioned ho i under, dag nn. The
officers had consented to suffer the family to
remain Until the funeral, but for the sake ol
the father’s tottering reason, it was determin
ed that they should remove at once. The bo
d\ ot' Julia was laid on a bier hastily construe
ted; 1 spread o/er it a heap of flowers; ii
was borne by four of the workmen, who loved
the family in its prosperity, a..d did not d sert
it m its day of trial and t ibulutio.i. Tile fa
ther, supported on one side by his disi -herited
son, on the other by the partner ol his sorro’vs,
as she l;ad been of his joys* followed the bier,
and, after them, the other children tottered
from the threshhold of the home that had nur
sed their infancy, aud with which all thetr
dreams of pleaeure were blended- I lingered
on the grass-plot to watch the melancholy train
as it wound down the hill-path, ihe su i had
set; the air was still aud cahr» and soft; the
evening star hung upon the hoi rizon ; the au
tumn mistj wefe rising from the meadows.
My eyes were full of tears, and the scene dau
ceu before me. I saw the procession pass
the gate. I noticed that as they went, each
of the exiles turned a last look at the home of
their ancestors, and plucked a rose-hud from
the bush that arched the entrance. A loud
laugh came from the house which had lately
witnessed such a spectacle of wo; it proceed
,ed from the men whose calling had hardened
them to distress. I turned, sickening, away,
and had shed many tears ere 1 reached my
home.
The further history of this farqily is brief,
I obtained a situation far Robert, who gives
much satisfaction to his einpl >yers. The in
defatigable mother has upeied a child’s school
in the village, and by dim of her own exer
tions, and the little that Rob rt can supply, sup*
ports her family in respec ability, if not i.*
comfort. The father may be seen every day
roaming about the fields that were once his
I own, giving orders to the laborers respecting
the fences, or counting the sheep; nor in these
harmless amusements is he thwarted by the
occupier of the premises, or a-y «f his men.
who respect his infirmity aud pity his misfor
tunes.
I sometimes bear the same slow and heavy
step Upon my stah« ; and the s.une tall, but
now more venerable figure darkens my door,
I think it advisable to humor his fa icy for a
while, and so he often comes to consult me,
with all his funner earnestness, about the pro
gress of “The Lawsuit.”
The Annuals.— ln six u nbers of our pa
per we have publish d e*tir' "Frie idshiq’s
Offering,” "The Forget-.VI- -N *t,” aid “Th ■
Keepsake,” without i iterleri.ig with <>nr iisu.d
variety of miscell.in oils artclis. int Ltgence,
tec. After onr next i umber, wh ch will be
altogether original — we sh II r some the re
public.ition, and probably far ish o ir subset i
bers with two or three supplem'iutary sheets,
in order to give th ar Co tents whik; they are
fresh, and before they h ive been primed i i
other papers. “ The English Annual" which
is a half-priced book, made up of stale st>*ri s
and poetry from the Coiil Magazine, is al
ready sufficie tly fatni'iar to our readers, and
we shall therefore omit it i i our re-issues. Its
iefidi ig article, “Y u cannot marry your
Ofaiidinothct, hy T. Haynes Baily,” was pub
lished in the August number of the Lady’s
Book, and has since been copied into one-hall ,
the weekly papers of the United States. ;
Vol. IV—
From tht Saturday Cmiritr.
the: dinneb party.
Embracing hints on the of chdUrefH
BY AN OLD BACHELOR.
I am confirmed in the opinion, fioJD atten
tive observation, that this branch of domestic*
economy is very much qegleCted, and th»r
children were ■better governed in former tic’«*»
than they are at present. Parents, as
society at large; the interest of COui»try<
:he welfare of mankind, depend, in a gfefit
measure, on early impressions^—oh d ptopef
impulse and direction, giverl to children's
minds; and this cannot be neglected; Without
violating those great obligations Which iTthtal
ity imposes. I am excessively food of chiU
dren, when they are not rude or fioisy, and
can possibly have no higher gratification, than
in mixing in their innocent amusements, and
participating in their joyful gambols.—J fake
great delight in conversing with a sensible,
modest boy. and can nqrae a rosy cheeked ia
fa .t, for an hour, if the little urchin does not
cry. With such feelings, I accepted an in.
vitatiqn, from a friend, to dinner, who had a
large family of young children, and who sea.
soiled his invitation, by assurances, that {
should meet some gentlemen of ititelligenoqj
as well as being gratified with a sight of a
promising famjly. These were sufficient inc
ducements, and at the appointed hour,. I was
there, for nothing is more rude than to keep a
family waiting dirn.ier beyond t|ie hour of in
vitation. I met with a friendly Welcome, and
the you ig ones, consisting of three boyi, and
a girl, who were, severally, ordered up to shake
hands with me; and be exhibited. They each
made some resistance; shuffled off a little, and
c.ime very reluctantly. { was not much
pleased with this specimen of breeding. A
child should ba instructed to approach a stran
ge • with respectful confidence, divested alike,
of assurance or timidity. 1 would not judge
hastily and dinner was shortly annoqueed.
The children were almost the first seated, and
lheie was some indecent scuffling for cbaifs,
which required the interference of the father,
to stop, and which was done, not yUthoUtsotrie
d fficulty, as m <mms begged him not lo create
a not. Orde< being restored, I began to eat
my soup, but with litile comfort: tile young
o es were again noisy ai d clamorous: one did
not like mutton —the other demanded the ship
of a turkey—a third called for beef, with an
airof auihority, and pupa whispered the fourth,
to ask me to take a glass of Wine With him,
a i honor of which I Wquld have declined, but
was fearful of hurting the feelings of the fa
ll r, who was thus ruining his child by teach
ing him ihe maxims of high life, and customs
>f mature age, while yet an infant. We got
hrough the dinner, after some wrangling, a
few tears, expostulations from the father, and
< ppositiort from the mother. The desert was
intro uced; and the young ones made a dash
t the finest of the fruit themselves
plentifully--and while two were fighting for
i peach, they knocked over a buttei - M>at, With
sau.ee for the pudding, winch they safely lodg
ed. partly m mamma’s lap. and partly on my
black small cloihes: I was very near losing
uy temper on the occasion: it fretted me to
see children so much neglected* However,
while the urchins were bqsiiy engaged in des
troying whatever they fancied, I wasConVers
i g with a geutli man, who sat opposite to toe,
>. the subject of manufactures, and thd ttieans
of decreasing pauperism, and giving employ,
nant to our poor; but this deeply iuterestiag
topic was interrupted by the nurse, entering
’ with an infa.it iu her arms, aud a bqy of two
' years ol I, leading by the hand, A new scene
1 >f uproar commenced: the children seized the
baby—he baby squalled for fruit—the young
■ e grasped at every thing iu his way—-a per,
f et not ensued —aud it was with great diffi
culty that the room was clean d, after bribing
e .ch of them with something eatable. 1 took
nv departure with pleasure, happy in terraia
ating this very u ipieasant interview,
T tries are strangely altered, or rathef whole
some d ictriues have become unfashionable.
When I was a boy, my breakfast Was weak
coffee which was placed iu a large earthen
pa and each of us had a tin cup, and two
good slices of bread and buttey. All of sur
meals were served up tn this manner, under
the superinte idance of one of the family, and
we were dispatched to school at the proper
hour; we Lad a reasonable proportion of de
licacies reserved for us, and at night Wejoined
the family party, who were all pleased to see
us, and that was the season for mirth and judi
cious hilarity: our education was not neglect
ed—our appetites were not pampered—our
mi ids were not ruined by extravagance, and
our principles wefe not vitiated by bud exam
ples. Nothing cun have a belter effect than
adopting a system with childreri, and never de
parting from it, if the principles are squad. A
very Sacred and-solemn duty is imposed upon
parents, not only to feed and clothe their chil
kren (f >r that seems to lie the b iundary alien
tion with ma..y persons) but to preserve their
mind and mo ais pure, to inculcate, by pre
cept and example, lessons of prudence, econo
my and industry. Yhis can only be effected
in one way, by decision and judicious severity,
Unless a child stars his parent, ha will never
obey or resp ct him. This severity does not
consist in beating a child—bitt keep him at a
respectful distance- admitting him only at sta
ted periods, into his presence, and at those pe
riods conversing rationally and affectionately
wi h him; crushing in the bud, every attempt
nt wit, or what is called smart sayings, the pre
cursors only of indolence, rudeness, ana ill
manners; but, on the Contrary, imprinting,
upon their waxen minds, lessons of mildness,
tunpera .ee a d industry. Some wili say,
th t by this cold and repulsive course, you
teach children to hate you; but itshoqkl be re
membered, that familiarity destroys res|»ect;
and where there is no fear, there is no obedi
ence. A child may fear his parent, but irt time
he will discover the good qualities of his father,
account for his severity, aad love him; and
that very severity will induce a child to do
nothing ihat may offend him. Let them Jive
hardy whe i young; partake of rough, but
x» h des ime tare; abstain from dress
pin ly; give them little, or no money} teach
them to earn it; give them a trade, when they
are able to work, or a suitable professio i; see
that their time is em,Joyed, and compel, them,
while under v our care, to ob >v yourcommands,
and they will turn out good citizens. It is a
f c’, which is unde nable, that seven-eights of
the had characters, who disfigure the world,
who are useless to themselves—of no creditor
service to thetr families, have been thus re
duced to extremities, from the culpable oeg
ect, and Unpardonable iud ff rence of parents,
HOWARD.
Miracle —ln the house of correction nt Bostotl
there are 200 women in one room, who work
industriously and never talk I! — lmfossible,