Newspaper Page Text
THE SOUTHERN SENTINEL
Is published every Thursday Morning,
IN COlil'Mßl’S, GA.
BY WILLIAM H. CHAMBERS,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
To whom all communications must be directed, post paid
Office on Randolph Street.
Terms of Subscription.
One copy twelve months, in advance, - - $2 50
“ Not in advance, -3 Of*
” “ Six “ “ “ - 150
Where the subscription is not paid during the
year, 15 cents will be charged for every month’s delay.
No subscription will be received lor less than six
months, and none discontinued until all arrearages are
paid, except at the option ol the proprietor.
To Clubs.
J ive copies twelve months, ... $lO 00
’l’en ‘‘ “ 16 00
The money from C lubs must in all cases ac
company the names, or the price of a single subscription
will be charged.
Rates of Advertising.
One Square, first insertion, - - - $1 00
“ “ Each subsequent insertion, - 50
A liberal deduction on these terms will be made in favor
of those who advertise by the year.
Advertisements not specified as to time, will be pub
lished till forbid, and charged accordingly.
Monthly Advertisements will be charged as new Ad
vertisements at each insertion.
Legal Advertisements.
N. R—Sales of Lands, -by Administrators, Ex
ecutors, or Guardians, are require*] by law to be held on
the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10
in the forenoon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court
House in the county in which the land is situated. No
tices of these sales must be given in a public gazette
sixty days previous to the day of sale.
Sales of Negroes must be made at a public auction
on the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual
hours of sale, at the place of public sales in the county
where the Letters Testamentary, of Administration or
Guardianship, may have been granted, first giving sixty
daVs notice thereof in one ot the public gazettes ol this j
State, and at the door of the Court House, where such
sales are to be held.
Notice for the sale of Personal property must be given
in like manner forty days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an estate must
be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court of
Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must be published for
Font MONTHS.
Notice for leave to sell Negroes must lie published lor
four months, before any order absolute shall be made
thereon by the Court.
Citations for Letters of Administration, must be pub
lished thirty days—for dismission from administration,
monthly six months—for dismission from Guardianship,
FORTY days.
Rules for the foreclosure of a Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months —for establishing lost
papers, for the full space ot three months —for com
pelling titles from Executors or Administrators, where a
Bond has been given by the deceased, the full stage ol
three months.
Publications will always be continued according to
these legal requirements, unless otherwise ordered.
SOUTHERN SENTINEL
Job Office.
HAVING received anew and extensive assortment
of Job Material, we. are prepared to execute at
this office, all orders for JOB WORK, in a manner which
can not be excelled in the State, on very liberal terms,
and at the shortest notice. •
We feel confident ot our ability to give entire satisfac
tion in every variety of Job Printing, including
Books, Business Cards,
Pamphlets, Bill Heads,
Circulars, Blanks of every description,
Hand Bills, Bills of Lading,
Posters, 4' r - 4* r - A’ s -
In short, all descriptions of Printing which can be ex
ecuted at any office in the country’, will be turned out
with elegance and despatch.
Marble Works,
East side Broad St. near the Market House,
COLUMBUS, GA.
HAVE constantly on hand all kinds of Grarr Stones
Monuments. Tombs and Tablets, of American-
Itali an and Irish Marble. Engraving and carving
•lone on stone in the best possible manner ; and all kinds
ol Granite Work at the
p. S.—Plaistcr of Paris and Cement, always on hand
for sale. .
Columbus, March 7, 1850. 10 ts
north Carolina
Mutual Life Insurance Company.
LOCATED AT RALEIGH, N. C.
rpHE Charter of this company gives important advan-
L tages to the assured, over most other companies.
The husband estn insure his own life for the sole use and
b< nbfit of liis wile and children, free irorn any other
claims. Persons who insure for-life participate m the
profits which are. declared annually , and when the pre
mium exceeds S3O, may pay one-halt in a note.
Slaves are insured iit two-thirds their value lor one or
five years. •
Applications for Risks may lie madfeW
Agent, Columbus, 6a.
* Office at Greenwood &. Co.’s Warehouse.
Nov. 13,1849.
TO RENT,
Till the first day of January next. The old printing
office room ot the “Muscogee Democrat
Apply at this office.
County Surveyor.
THE undersigned informs his friends and the Planters
of Muscogee county, that he is prepared to make
officinl surveys in Muscogee county’. Letters addressed
T - Post Office,Columbus, will meet with prompt atten
tion. WM. F. SERRELL,
County Surveyor.
Office over E. Barnard &. Co.’s store, Broad St.
Columbus*, Jan. 31,1830. 5 ly
AIRS, bardwelL,
XXTOULD inform the Ladies of Columbus and its
> V vicinity, that she has just returned from New’ Y ork
with a handsome stock of MILLINERY, LACE
CAPES, <fcc., and trusts the Ladies will give her an
early call. She opened on Wednesday.
April 11 j 1850. 15 ts
TEAS! TEAS!
DIRECT from the “Canton Tea Company,'’ just re
ceived and tor sale by ___
ELLIS, KENDRICK & REDD.
Feb. 7, 1850. 6 tt
NOTICE.
rpilE firm name of “M. H. Dessau, Agent ” is changed,
from this date, to M. H. DESSAU.
Columbus, Feb. 7, 1850. b tt
Williams, Flewellen & Williams,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.
May 23, 1850. 21
J. JOHNSON,
ATTORXEY AT LA W,
RANDOI.nI STREET, COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.
mxTILL practice in the Chattahoochee Circuit and
\ V the adjacent counties in Alabama.
Columbus, June 13, 1850. 24 4t
M Globe Hotel,
BUENA VISTA, MARION CO., GA.
BY J. WILLIAMS.
March 14,1850. U
Williams & Howard,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.
r.OBT. R. HOWARD. CHAS. J. WILLIAMS.
April 4,1850. 14 ts
J. D. LENNARD,
attorney at law,
TALBOTTON, GA.
WILL attend to business in Talbot and the adjacent
counties. All business entrusted to his care will meet
with prompt attention.
April 4, 1850. 14 ly
KING & WINNEMORE,
Commission Merchants,
MOBILE, ALABAMA.
Dec. ?0,1849. [Mob. Trib.] 15 tl
~ THIS PAPER
IS MANUFACTURED BY THE
Rock Island Factory,
NEAR THIS CITY
Columbus, Feb 23, 1850. 9 tt
VOL. I.
IMAGINARY EVILS.
BY CHARLES SWAIN.
Let to-morrow take care ot to-morrow ;
Leave things of the future to fate;
What’s the use to anticipate sorrow ?
Life’s trouble’s come never too late!
If to hope overmuch be an error,
’Tis one that the wise have preferred ;
And how often have hearts been in terr or
Os evils—that never occurred !
Have faith—and thy faith shall pustain thee—
Permit not suspicion and care
With invisible bonds to enchain thee,
But bear with w’hat God gives thee to bear.
By his spirit supported and gladden'd,
Be ne’er by “lorebodings” deterred ;
But think how oft hearts nave been sadden’d
By fear—of what never occurred!
Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow;
Short and dark as our life may appear,
We may make it still darker by sorrow—
Still shorter by folly and fear!
Half our troubles are half our invention,
And often from blessings conferred
Have we shrink in the wild apprehension
Os evils —that never occurred !
TJIE TWO ACTS,
OR,
“They Have Their Reward.”
BY HENRY 0. LEE.
‘No, indeed ! I shall do no such thing/
said Mrs. Lionel to her husband, who had
come home with the intelligence that a cou
sin of his, a widow, had died suddenly, and
left a little girl three years old, whom he pro
posed that his wife should adopt and raise as
her own—they having no children. But she
gave a decided negative on the spot.
‘She is a sweat, interesting child/ urged
Mr. Lionel. ‘You will soon get attached to
her, and be more than repaid in the new af
fection awakened in your heart, for all the
care and t ouble she may occasion/
‘lt is no use to talk to me, Mr. Lionel/ re
tured the lady, in a positive tone of voice. ‘I
know about the care and trouble, and am not
willing to take it upon myself. As I have no
children of my own, I am not disposed to take
the burden of other people’s. So it is use
less for you to press this subject; for I will
never consent to what you propose/
‘lf you feel that way, I shall certainly not
urge the matter/ said her husband. ‘Though,
as far as I am concerned, it would give me
great pleasure to adopt Aggy, who is a charm
ing little creature. I wish you could see
her/
‘I have no particular desire. All children
are alike to me. As to the beauty, that is a
poor compensation for the trouble. So I must
beg to be excused/
Mr. Lionel said no more on the subject.
He was exceedingly fond of children, and
never ceased to regret that he had none of
his own. In two or three instances before,
he had endeavored to prevail uhon his wife to
adopt a child, but she had, each time, firmly
declined. She had every little affection for
children herself, and was not willing to take
the care and trouble that she saw would nec
essarily be involved in the adoption of a child.
The little girl who, by the death of his cousin,
had been left homeless and apparently friend
less, was a sweet young’ creature, whom, to
look upon was to love. Mr. Lionel had nev
er seen her without a wanning of his heart
toward her, and a secret wish that she were
his own instead of another’s. The moment
ho heard of his cousin's death, he determined
to odopt Agnes, or Aggy, as she was called,
provided his wife were willing. But Mrs.
Lionel was not willing. She was too selfish
to love anything out of herself. A thought
of the child’s good—of giving a home to the
homeless—of being a mother to the mother
less —never crossed her mind. She only
thought of the trouble the little orphan would
give.
The insuperable difficulty in the way of
adopting Aggy as his own, did not destroy
the interest which Mr. Lionel felt in her. lie
considered it his duty to see that she was pro
vided with a good home, and was willing to
be at the costofhermaintainance, if necessa-.
ry. His first thought had been to adopt the
child, and until that was understood to be out
of the question, he had thought of nothing
else in regard to her. How she was to be
disposed of, now that his wife had definitely
settled the matter against him, became anew
subject of reflection. After a due delibera
tion; he concluded to see a distant relative on
the subject, with whom, since his marriage,
he had but little familiar intercourse, although
he had always entertained for a high respect.
The reason of this was, the cold, proud, un
social temper of his wife, who rather looked
down upon his relatives because their stand
ing in society was not, as she considered it,
quite as high as her’s had been and still was.
Necessarily, such a disposition in his wife,
would prevent much social intercourse be
tween Mr. Lionel and his relatives, notwith
standing his regard for them might continue
as high as before his marriage.
The relative to whom reference has just
been made, was a lady whose husband, a
very estimable man, was in moderately good j
circumstances. They had three children of
their own, the youngest of which nearly ten
years of age. From his high appreciation of
Mrs. Wellford’s character, Mr. Lionel, who,
from thinking of Aggy as his adopted child,
began to love her .almost as much as if she
were really his own, felt strong desire that
she should take the orphan. He had not
seen her for a couple of years when he called
upon her to talk about the orphan. A little :
to his surprise, Mrs. Wellford, when she met !
him in the parlor, entered, leading Aggy by j
the hand. ‘Dear little creature!’ he said, ta
king the child up in his arms, and kissing her
as soon as he had shaken hands with Mrs. ;
Wellford. ‘I am glad to see you in such
good bauds. It is about this very child, Ma- 1
ry/ he added, ‘that I have come to talk with
you. What is to be done with he ?’
‘I don’t know,” returned Mrs. Wellford.
‘She must have a home somewhere among us.
The dear child! Anybody could love her. j
Have you thought of taking her?
‘lf 1 were to consult my own feelings and
wishes, I should adopt her as my own child
immediately. But lam not at liberty to do
this, and, therefore, must not think about it.
I am willing, however, to beat the entire cost
of her maintainance and education, if you
will undertake the care of her. What I can
do, I will do with all my heart/
‘We have already talked, seriously, about
adding Aggv to our little house-hould/ replied
Mrs. \V elltord. ‘And if no one else offers to
do so, we will keep her and do for her the
al)c .Soull)ecu Sentinel.
same as if she were our own. It will bring
smore ease and anxiety for me, which, as my
health is not good, will be felt; but if not bet
ter provided tor, it will be my duty to take
the place ol her mother, and l will assume the
office cheerfully/
‘But at my charge/ and said Mr. Lionel.
‘No/replied Mrs. Wellford. ‘A mother
accepts no pay for her duty. It is a labor of
love and brings its own sweet reward. Though
Providence has not given us wealth, yet we
have enough, and, I think, as much to spare
as this dear child will need. For your kind
wishes and intentions for Aggy, I will thank
you in her stead. I thought, perhaps, as you
had no children, that you might wish to adopt
her ; but as this cannot be, it will doubtless
fall to our lot/
Mr. Lionel went home, feeling less satis
fied with his wife’s spirit and temper, so
strongly contrasted, as it was, with that of
Mrs. Wellford, than he had felt for a long
time.
‘She will have her reward/ he murmured to
himself, ‘and, as she said, justly’, it will be
sweet/ This was in allusion to Mrs. Well
ford, who had called the mother’s duty she
was about amusing, a labor of love.
Little Aggy scarcely felt the loss of her
parent. The love she had borne her mother,
was transferred to her aunt, and Mrs. Well
ford was called, so early that no void was left
in her heart. It took but a little while, for
each member of the family to feel that Aggy
hada right to be among them, and for Mr.
and Mrs. Wellford to love her as their own
child.
Years rolled by, and brought them many
unlooked for changes both to Mrs. Lionel
and Mrs. Wellford. Both lmd been subject
ed to afflictions and reverses—the severest,
perhaps, that ordinarily fall to the lot of any
—for both were widows and* both friendless
and poor. As for Mrs. Wellford, she had not
only her husband, but all her children were
taken, and she was left alone in the world
with the orphan Aggy. But she, grown into
a lovely young woman, nestled closer to her
side, and into her very bosom ; brought not
with a helpless, but in a sustaining spirit.
Death, though he had robbed her of much,
had still left her much. Bereaved as she had
been, she was neither lonely nor sad. llow
different was the case of Mrs. Lionel! Af
ter the death of her husband, and the total
loss of her property, she fell back at once
from her advanced position in the social rank,
into neglect, obscurity and want. For the
very means of subsistancy, exertion became
necessary. But. what could she do for a liv
idg, who had, in the whole life, done scarcely
a useful thing—who had been little better
than a drone in the social hive! Nothing!
Or, if there was small ability, there was
pride enough remaining to prevent its exer
cise.
After her husband’s death, which followed
shortly after the reverses that stripped him of
all worldly possessions, Mrs. Lionel retired
into the family of a poor relative, who had been
little thought of in brighter days, and who,
although she did not want to receive her,
could not close her door in her face. A sad
spectacle she was. Shut up in the little cham
ber that was assigned her, she never went out,
and only met the family she was burdening
with her presence, at the table, and then with
an aspect so gloomy and reserved, as to throw
a chill over the feelings of all.
For a short period, Mrs. Lionel paid a
small sum for her boarding, but no very long
lime passed before all her money was ex
hausted, and she became absolutely depend
ent upon a poor woman, very distantly rela
ted to her, whose only means of support was
her personal labor and that of her daugh
ter.
After the death of her husband and chil
dren, Mrs. Wellford, who was left quite as
poor as Mrs. Lionel, began to look around
her for some means of securing an income for
herself and Agnes, whom she loves, now that
all the rest were gone, with a tenderness that
equalled the sum of her love for all. But,
what to do, was a difficult thing to determine.
Asa young girl her education had been very
plain. She could not, therefore, resort to
teaching in any branch, for she had not,
the requisite ability. Sewing always gave
her a severe pain in her breast and side, so
that, whatever might be her skill in needle
work, she was precluded from resorting to it
as a means of obtaining money.
‘I think/ she said to Agnes, after looking
at the subject in every possible light,‘that
there is but one thing left for me to do/
‘What is that, aunt ?’ inquired Agnes.
‘Taking a few boarders. I could attend to
them/
‘lt will be very hard work/ suggested tlie
neice, ‘too hard for you. No—no, aunt
that will not do. Look what a. slave’s life
Mrs. Minturn has! Don’t think of it/
‘I must do something you know, Aggy,
dear. In a little while all our money will
be gone. I have thought of everything, but
my mind comes back to this at last. I don’t
like the thought of it, but it is right for me to
exert myself, and I must do so without a
murmur.’
‘Havn’t you thought of anything that I can
do ? asked Agnes, in a cheerful voice. ‘I am
sure that I can do something/ she added,
confidently, ‘and I am younger and have better
health than you have/
‘I cannot think, my dear child/ Mrs. Well
ford said, with much tenderness in her voice,
‘of your being exposed to the world’s rough
contact. You are too young/
‘The contact you seem to dread, cannot
hurt me, aunt/ returned Agnes. ‘To the
pure all things are pure. If I have in me a
right spirit, the world cannot hurt me/
‘But I cannot bear the thought of seeing
you, in the very spring time of life, when all
along your path should grow up flowers to
fill the air with perfume, chained like a slave
to the car of labor. No, no, Aggy; it must
not be! I can do all that is required. If I
fail, then it will be time enough for me to call
upon you for aid/
Pride as well as affection reigned in the ;
I brest of Mrs. Wellford. She could not bear ;
I the thought of seeing Agnes in any kind of j
labor for money, She was fully capable of
giving instruction in many things, and of se
curing, thereby, a fair income; but her aunt
would not hear to her seeking for employ
ment.
‘Aunt is wrong,’ Agnes said to herself/
when alone, soon after the interview in which
Mrs. Wellford declared it as her belief that
•the only thing left for her to do, was to take
a lew boarders. ‘I ought not to see her do
this.’ She sat thoughtful for a few moments,
and then added aloud—‘and I will not see her
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 4, 1850.
do it. I have received everything from her,
and now is the time for me to make some re
turn. But what shall Ido V Where shall I
seek employment ?’
Half an hour after she had asked herself
the questions so earnestly, Agnes picked up a
newspaper, and the first thing that met her
eyes was an advertisement for a person to
give lessons in music, and one or two modern
languages to three young ladies, for which a
liberal compensation would be paid. With
out saying a word to her aunt, Agnes put on
her things aud went to the place mentioned
in the advertisement. The house before which
she passed was a large one, in a fashionable
part of the city. Everything around it indi
cated a wealthy owner. For a few moments
she felt limid, and hesitated about presenting
herself; but she soon regained her self-posses
sion, and made the application for which she
had come.
A middle aged woman, of mild and lady
like deportment, met her on being shown in
to one of the apartment-of the house.
‘I believe you advertised for a teacher V
said Agnes, speaking in a low, trembling
voice. She found herself more agituted than
she had expected.
“We did/ replied the lady, ‘and have al
ready received several applications; tho’ none
of those who have answered the advertise
ment, suits us in all respects. And lam
afraid that we shall hardly find all that I de
sire in you/
There was nothing in the way this was
said to hurt the feelings of Agnes, but rather
to make her feel more free to speak.
‘Why do you think I will not suit?’ she
asked, looking earnestly into the lady’s face.
‘Because you are too young. You cannot
be over seventeen years of age/
‘1 am nineteen/ returned Agnes.
‘But even that is young. We wish a per
son of some experience, and of the first abili
ty. I will not question your ability, but you
certainly cannot have much experience in
teaching. Have you ever given lessons in
music?’
‘Not yet; but I wish to do so, and believe
that I could give satisfaction.’
‘Then you have never been engaged in
teaching at all?”
“No—never.”
“I hardly think you would suit us?”
The countenance of Agnes fell so sudden
ly. that the lady’s sympathies were awakened,
and she said—
“ Are you very desirous of securing a situ
ation as teacher?”
“ Desirous above all things,” replied Ag
nes, with much earnestness.
The lady continued to ask question after
question, until she understood fully what was
in the young girl’s mind. She then apprecia
ted her more highly, although she did not be
lieve her fully qualified to give the instruc
tion that was desired. Agnes, who gained
confidence the more she conversed with the
lady, at length urged that she might have a
trial.
“ But suppose, after we give you a trial,
that you do not suit us. We shall finfl it hard
to send you away.”
The force of this objection was fully ap
preciated by the lady when she uttured it, for
already she felt so drawn toward the young
girl with whom she was holding the inter
view, that her feelings were fast getting the
control of her judgement.
“ I am sure I will suit you,” replied Agnes,
“for I will give the most untiring attention to
my duties.
The lady looked at her beautiful young
face, lit up with the earnestness of a true pur
pose, and felt as she had never before felt for
a stranger. She addressed her a few words
in French, to which Agnes replied in the
same language.
“Your accent is certainly very correct. —
Now let me hear you perform something on
the piano,” she said.
Agnes went to the instrument, and after
selecting a piece of music, sat down and ran
her fingers gracefully over the keys. The
lady stood by to listen.- Soon the young
girl was in the midst of one of Hertz’s most
beautiful but familiar compositions, which she
executed with unusual taste as well as brilli
ancy. Her touch wes exquisite, and at the
same time full, and, where required, bold and
confident.
“Admirable!” she heard uttered in a low
voice, just behind her, as she struck the last
note in the piece. It was not the voice of a
woman.
She started up and turned quickly. More
auditors thaii she had supposed were present.
A young man, and three beautiful young girls
stood listening behind their mother. They
had been attracted from an adjoining room
by the music, so far superior to anything or
dinarily heard. A deep crimson overspread
the sweet young face of Agnes, heightening
every native charm. The young man instant
ly retired, and the mother introduced her to
her daughters, who were in love with so love
ly an instructress, and threw their voices at
once in her favor. These voice's but second
ed the mother’s prepossessions.
“Nothing has yet been said about compen
sation,” remarked the lady to Agnes, after
she had requested the girls to leave them a
gain alone. “We are willing to pay liberal
ly if we can get the person we want. At pre -
sent, I feel strongly in favor of giving you a
trial. If after thinking over the subject, it is
concluded to do so, your salary will be four
hundred dollars. Do you think that will meet
your wishes?”
“Fully,” replied Agnes, with an emotion
that she could scarcely conceal. The sum
was larger than she had expected.
“Os course, I like to be at home every
night with my aunt,” she said.
“To that we should make no objection.—
To-morrow morning I will be prepared to
give you an answer.”
Agnes retired with a heart full of hope, yet
trembling lest something should prevent the
engagement she was so eager to make. She
said nothing to her aunt, who, bent on taking
boarders, started out on the ensuing morning
to look for a house suited for that purpose.—
As soon as she was gone, Agnes went with a
trembling heart to hear the decision that was
to be made in favor or against her application.
It was favorable !
On going home, she found that her aunt
had not yet returned, nor did she come back
for two hours. Then she was so worn down
with fatigue that she had to go to bed. A
cup of tea revived her, but her head ached so
badly that she did not get up until late in the
afternoon, when she was better.
“I have found a house, Aggy,” she said, as
soon as she felt like alluding to the subject,
“that will just suit. The owner is to give me
an answer about it to-morrow.”
“If looking for a house has made you sick
enough to go to bed, aunt,” returned Agnes,
“how can you expect to bear the fatigue of
keeping boarders in the house after you have
taken it? You must not think of it. In two
good rooms, at a light rent, \ve can live very
comfortably, and at an expense much lighter
than we have at present to bear.”
“Yes, Agnes, comfortably enough, if we
had the ability to meet that expense. But we
have not. You know that there is no in
come.”
“There has been none' —bat ”
“But what, dear?” Mrs. Wellford saw that
there was something more than usual in the
mind of Agnes.
“Forgive me dear aunt,” said the affection
ate girl, throwing her arms around the neck of
her relative; “but I cannot see you, at your
time of life and in ill health, compelled to toil
as you propose. I have, therefore, applied
for, and secured a situation in a private fami
ly as a teaeher of music and languages to
three young ladies, for which I am to receive
a salary of four hundred dollars a year.”
While Mrs. Wellford was looking for a
house, and after she had found one, the fa
tigue and pain she suffered led her more fully
to realize, than she had done before, the great
labor with a doubtful result, that she was ta
king upon herself. She was, therefore, just
in the state of mind to receive the unexpected
communication made by Agnes.
“You are a good girl,” she merely replied
kissing her as she spoke.
“And you do not object ?” eagerly asked
the niece.
“How can I?” responded Mrs Wellford,
leaning her head down upon the shoulder of
Agnes. In a few moments she said as she
looked up, with tears glittering on her eye
lashes—“may Heaven reward you!” And
turning away, she left Agnes to her own hap
py thoughts.
Six months from this time, as Mrs. Lionel
sat alone in her room, gloom}’ and sad, the
woman with whom she was living, and upon
whom she still laid herself, a heavy burden,
came in where she was, and said—
“ Did you know that your niece, Agnes
Wellford, was married, yesterday, to the son
of one of the richest men in town?”
“No! It can’t be!” quickly replied Mrs Lio
nel. “Mr. Wellford died not worth a dollar,
and his widow has been poor as poverty ever
since.”
“No, not quite that,” said the woman.—
“Agnes has supported her comfortably by
teaching music. I heard the whole story this
morning. Mrs. Wellford wanted to keep
boarders, but Agnes wouldn’t hear to it, and,
against her aunt’s wishes, went out and ap
plied for a place as teacher to three young
ladies in a wealthy family, for which she re
ceived a salary of four hundred dollars ayear.
She had not taught long before the brother
of the young ladies fell in love with her, to
which no very strong objection was made by
his friends. And now they are married.”
“And what of Mrs. Wellford?” was eagerly
inquired.
“They go to housekeping forthwith, and
Mrs. Wellford is to live with them.”
Mrs. Lionel clasped her hands together and
sinking back in her chair exclaimed:
“Oh! what an error I committed!”
“How?” inquired the woman.
But Mrs. Lionel did not answer the ques
tion. She had her reward, and Mrs. Well
ford had hers.
PETER CHANCERY, ESQ.,
AND IIIS FIVE DOLLARS.
Showing the Blessings that may follow the
Settlement of the Smallest Accounts.
BY PROFESSOR INGRAHAM.
“Sir, if you please, boss would like you to
pay this little bill to-day,” said, for the tenth
time, a half-grown boy in a dirty jacket, to a
lawyer in his office.
The attorney at length turned round and
stared at the boy full in the face, as if he had
been some newly discovered specimen of zoo
logy, gave a long whistle, thrust his inky fin
gers first into one pocket and then into the
other of his black cloth vest, and then gave
another long whistle, and completed his stare
at the boy’s face.
“Ho, ha, hum! that bill, eh ?” said the le
gal young gentleman extending the tips of
of his fingers towards the well-worn bit of
paper, and daintily opening it, looked at its
contents;
“Hum !—for capping and heel-capping, six
shillings—for foxing, ten and sixpence; and
other sundries, eli? So your master wants
me to settle this bill, eh ?” repeated the man
of briefs.
“Yes, sir; this is the nineteenth time I have
come for it, and I intend to knock off at
twenty, and call it half a day.”
“You’re an impudent boy.”
“l’s ahvays impudent to lawyers, coz I
can’t help it—it’s catchin’.”
“You’ve got your eye teeth cut, I see.”
“That’s what boss sent me for, instead of
the ’prentices as was gettin’ their teeth cut; I
cut mine at nine months old with the hand
saw. Boss says if you don’t pay the bill,
he’ll sue you.”
“Sue me ? I’m a lawyer!”
“It makes no odds. Lawyer or no lawyer,
boss declares he’ll do it—so fork over.”
“Declares he’ll sue me ?”
“As true as there is another lawyer in all
Filadelphy.”
“That would be bad!”
“Wouldn’t it?”
“Silence, you vagabond! I suppose I must
pay this,” muttered the attorney to himself.
“It is not my plan to pay these bills. What
is a lawyer’s profession good for, if he can’t
get clear of paying his own bills ? He’ll sue
me! ’Tis just five dollars. It comes hard,
and he don’t want the money. What is five
dollars to him ? His boy could have earned
it in the time he has been sending him to dun
me for it. So your master will sue me for it
if I don’t pay ?”
“He says he will do it, and charge you a
new pair of shoes for me.”
“Harkee ; I can’t pay to-day; and so if
your boss will sue me, just be so kind as to
ask him to employ me as his attorney.” •
“You?”
“Yes; I’ll issue the writ, have it served,
and then you see I shall put the cost into my
own poekefc, instead of seeing it go into an
other lawyer’s. So you see if I have to pay
the bill, I’ll make the cost—capital idea!”
The boy scratched his head awhile, as if
striving to comprehend this capital idea, and
shook it doubtingly. “I don’t know about
this; it looks tricky. I’fl apk boss though.- if
as how yOu won t pay it no how without be
ing sued.”
“I had rather be sued, if he’ll employ me,
boy.”
“But who is to pay them costs—the
boss?”
The lawyer looked all at once very serious,
and gave another of those long whistles pe
culiar to him.
“Well, I’m a sensible man, truly! My
anxiety to get the costs of suit blinded me to
the fact that they were to come out of my
own pocket before they could be safely put
in. Ah, well, my boy, I suppose I must pay.
Here’s a live dollar gold piece; is the bill re
ceipted ? it is so dirty and greasy, I can’t
see.”
“It was nice and clean when boss gin it
to me, and the writin’ shined like Knapp’s
blackin’—it is torn so a dunnin’ so much.”
“Well, here’s your money,” said the man
of-law, taking a solitary live dollar piece
from his watch-fob; now tell your master,
Mr. Last, if he has any other accounts he
wants Sued, I’ll attend to them with the great
est pleasure.”
“Thank’ee sir,” answered the boy, pocket
ing the five; “but you is the only reg’lar dun
nin’ customer boss has; and now you’ve paid
up, he haint none but cash folks. Good day
to you.”
“Now there goes five dollars that will do
that fellow Last no good. I am in want of
it, but he is not. It is a five thrown away. It
wouldn’t have left iny pocket but that I was
sure that his patience was wore out, and costs
would come of it. I like to take costs, but I
don’t think a lawyer has anything to do with
paying them.”
As Peter Chancery did not believe, in his
otvn mind, that paying his debt to Mr. Last
was to be of any benefit to him, and was of
opinion that it was money thrown away, let
us follow’ the fate of these five dollars through
the day.
“He has paid!” said the boy, placing the
money in his master’s hand.
“Well, I’m glad of it,” answered Mr. Last,
surveying the money through his glasses—
and it’s a half eagle too. Now run with it
and pay Mr. Furnace the five dollars I bor
rowed from him yesterday, and said I would
return it to-morrow. But I’ll pay it now.”
“Ah, my lad, come just in time,” said Mr.
Furnace, as the boy delivered his errand and
the money. “I was just wondering where I
could get five dollars to pay a bill which is
due to-day. Here, John,” he called, to one
of his apprentices, “put on your hat and take
this money to Capt. O’Brien, and tell him I
came wdthin one of disappointing him, w’hen
some money came in I didn’t expect.”
Captain O’Brien was on board of his
schooner at the next wharf, and with him
was a seaman with his hat in his hand, look
ing very gloomy as he spoke with him.
“I’m sorry, my man, I can’t pay you—but
I’ve just raised and scraped the last dollar I
can get above water, to pay my insurance
money to-day, and have not a copper left in
my pocket to jingle, but keys and old nails.”
“But I am very much in need, sir; my
wife is failing, and my family are in want of
a good many things just now, and I got sev
eral articles at the store, expecting to get
money of you to take them up as I went along
home. We hain’t in the house no Hour, nOr
tea, nor ”
“Well, my lad, I’m sorry. You must
come to-morrow. I can’t help you unless I
sell my coat off my back, or pawn my schoo
ner’s kedge. Nobody pays me.”
The sailor who had Come to get an ad
vance of wages, turned away sorrowfully,-
when the apprentice-boy came up and said in
his hearing—
“ Here, sir, is five dollars Mr. Furnace
ow t cs you. He says when he told you he
couldn’t pay your bill to-day, he didn’t ex
pect some irioney that Carrie in after you left
the shop.”
“Ah, that’s my fine boy! Here Jack* take
this five dollars, and come on Saturday and
get the balance of your w’ages.”
The seaman, with a joyful bound; took the
piece, and touching his hat, sprung with a
light heart on shore, and hastened to the
store where he had already selected the com
forts and necessities his family stood so much
in need of.
As he entered; a poor W’oman was trying
to prevail upon the store-keeper to settle a
demand for making his shirts.
“You had best take it out of the store, Mrs.
Conway,” he said to her; “really I have not
taken in half the amount of your bill to-day,
and I don’t expect to. I have to charge eve
ry thing, and no money comes in/’
“I can’t do without it,” answered the wo
man earnestly, “my daughter is very ill and
in want of every comfort; I am out of fire
wood, and indeed I want many things wiiich
I have depended upon this money to get. I
worked night and day to get your shirts done.”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Conw'ay,” said the
store-keeper, looking into his money drawer;
“I’ve not five shillings here—and your bill is
five dollars and ninepence.”
The poor woman thought of her invalid
child, and w’rung her hands.
“A sailor was here a while ago, and select
ed full five dollars worth of articles here on
the counter, and went away to get his wages
to pay for them, but I question if he comes
back. If he does and pays for them, you
shall have your money, madam.”
At this instant Jack made his appearance
in the door.
“Well, ship-mate,” he said in a tone much
more elevated than w hen he was discovered
speaking w ith the captain, “well, my hearty,
hand over my freight. I’ve got the document,
so give us possession!” and displaying his
five dollar piece, he laid hold of the purchas
es.
The store-keeper examining and seeing
that the money -was good, bade him take
them with him, and then sighing as he took
another and last look at the piece, he handed
it to the poor widow, who with a joyful smile,
received it from him and hastened from the
store.
In a low and very bumble tenement, near
the water, was a family of poor children,
whose appearance exhibited the utmost des
titution. On a cot bed, lay a poor woman,
ill and emaciated. The door opened and a ;
man in patched garments, entered with a
wood saw and horse, and laid them down by
the door side and approached the bed.
“Are you any better, dear ?’ ’ he asked in a
rough voice, but in the kindest tones.
“No—have you found work ? If you could
get me a-little nourishing food, I could re
gain my lost strength.”
The man gazed upon her pale falce a mo
ment, and again taking up liis saw arid h'O’rae,
went out. He had not gone far before a woman
met him, and said she w ished him to follow
and saw some wood for her. His heart
bounded with hope, and he went after
her to her dwelling, an abode Bttfe better
than his Own for poverty; yet wearing
an air of coYnfort. He sawed the w ood, split,
and piled it, and received six shillings, with
which he hastened to a sittfe’ fo' r ffCCessaries
for his sick wife, and then hurried home to
gladden her heart with the delicacies he had
provided. Till now he had no work for four
days, and his family had been starving, and
from this day his w ife got better, arid Was at
lenght restored to her family and to health,
from a state of weakness which rfnotfiOr day’s
continuation would probably have proved fa
tal.
Those six shillings, which did so much
good, Were paid him by the prior Wririmft front
the five dollars she had received from the store
keeper, and which the sailor had paid Mm.
The pOor woman’s daughter was also reviv
ed and ultimately restored to health,- and was
lately married to a young tan Who had bfceri
three years absent arid retured true iff his
troth. But for the Ute dollars which had
been so instrumental m her recovery, he might
have returned to be told that she Whose mem
ory had been so long the porlar star of his
heart, had perished.
So much good did the five dollor piece do,
which Peter Chancery, Esq., so remctari’tfv
paid to Mr. Last's apprentice boy, though lit
tle credit is due to this legal gentleman for
the results that followed. It is thus Provi
dence often makes bad men instruments of
good so others. Let this little story lead!
those who think a “small bill” can stand be
cause it is a small bill, remember how much
good a five dollar bill, has done in one single
day, and that in paj’ing one bill they may bC
paying a scries of twenty bills, and dispens
ing good to hundreds around them.
Lotion vs. Balsam.
08, THE QUACK DOCTOR.
We derive'the’ anriexed communication front
a correspondent: There arc probably mrrty
people now living, who remember the belo
brated quack-doctor, Reuben Nathans, who,-
some forty years since, and whose medicines
“the Chinese Balsam of, Life,” arid the “cele
brated Hair Invigorating Lotion,” made sO
much noise at that time. But few’, I presume,
have heard of the anecdote I am about to’ re
late concerning him. When’ the “Doctor's’’
medicines were first announced to the world
a simple minded laboring man purchased one
bottle of the Lotion and another tff the Bal
sam for his wife, who had a consumptive
cough of many years, standing, and was be
side threatened with the total loss of her hair.
The w’oman used both remedies according to
directions, and as is usual w ith ignorant peo
ple in such Cases, thought they were really
doing her a vast deal of good. The cough
seemed to her to be going away rapidly, she
“breathed freer,” while her hair appeared to
be coming back again thicker than ever. As
a natural consequence, she felt very great
confidence in the medicines; and when her
first lot of balsam was all used she sent her
husband to get the bottles filled again. The
doctor asked the man how the miediciries op
erated.
“Oil, grandly,” replied the husband; “my
wife’ cOugli’s e’en a’most gone, and her hair’s
all coming back again as fiery its river.”
“Ah,” said the doctor, “that’s the way my
medicines always work. There’s no mistake
about theni. “They’re just what I call themy
the “greatest wonders of the age.” I sposo
you’ve no objection to give me jour affidW
vit?”
“Oh, no,” replied tlie man; “tkafs jririt
what my wife wants me to do/’
The couple then repaired to the mayor’s
offiice, where an affidavit w’as drawm np, sworn
to, and witnessed. On returning to the-doc
tor’s shop, the quack took up the empty brit
tle for the purpose of refilling it. Uncorking
it, he put it to his nose and smelled of It.
“Why, what can this mean ?” he exclaimed
in some astonishment; and then after look
ing at the label, smelled of it again < “Whj,
sir, this isn’t balsam, though the label says so
but the ‘hair lotiort V ”
“Hair lotion or not,’’ replied the man, point
ing to the bottle, “that’s what cured my wife’s
dreadful cough, and the stuff in die bottle at
home is what made her hair grow again!”
“Strange ! Strange!” repeated the doctor,
with a puzzled countenance; “I don’t know
what to make of it. Will you be kind enough
sir; just to step back and get me the other
bottle—the hair lotion I mean.”
The man did so, and soon returned with ffhri
lotion bottle. The doctor took it and applied!
his nose to the mouth.
“And this,” said he, “is just as sure the Bal
sam as the other is the lotion.” Don’t yott
think there was some mistake on your part,
sir? Are you sure that what was in this brittle
made }’Our wife’s hair grow again ?
“Just as sartin as I’m alive,” replied’ trie
man; “for I always turned it out while Bet
sey held the spoon.”
The doctor sat down in a chair, arid,- lay
ing a finger on his nose seemed buried iu pro
found thought
“Ah! I see!” he atlengfh exclaimed, and
jumping up he filled the empty bottle again.
“There, sir,” said he, giving ft to the man arid
hurrying him to the doo*; “ail’s right, sir; I
w r as a little bothered, that’s all. Call again
when that’s gone, and yon shall have another
for nothing.”
As soon as he had shut the door On his cus
tomer, the doctor called in his “corifiderifial”
man from the laboratory.
“Moshes,” said he, “we’ve made a great
mistake in our guess work, after all. I’ve
been sttnfying ver’ hard lately, and have jtfst
discovered that our lotion fe the stuff to Crire
the coughs and consumptions, and the balsam
is the best to make the hair grow! We must
change the labels.”
“That’s unlucky,” replied the man, “for
we’ve got four thousand bottles, two thritfsarid
of each kind, all ready to send away to mor
row’.”
“ Vel, vel,” said the doctor, “yoU can change
the labels if you have trine; if not send them
off as they are.” “Tisn’t iriOsh matter.”
“Zeb,” said a chap to his chtrm the other
day, “seems to me yott did’nt stay long at
squire Folger’slast night.”
“No,” w’as the reply,- “I was saying a few
pleasant things to the daughter, arid the old
man came in and gave me a hint to go.”
“A hint Zeb, what sort of a hint V*
“Why, he gave me my bat, opened the
door, and just as he began ts raise’ his cow.
hide boot, I had a thought I wasn’t wanted,
and so I—l—took my leave.”
Children and fools, says the old adage, al
ways tell the truth. Mother sent me,’’ said a
little girl to a neighbor, “to ask you to com©
and take tea wjth her this evening. “Did she
say at what time, my dear ?” ‘‘■No, ma’^m;
she only said she w’ould ask you, and then the
thing would be off her mind; that was all she
said!”
NO. 27.