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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.