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VOL. I.
THE
XEETSEKITEEa
Will be published every SJITL'RD.IY Morning ,
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IS THE CITY OK MACON, (a.
in WM. It. IIA It It I so.\.
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O'Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors 1
or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on ,
the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours :
of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af- j
ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which j
the Property is situate. Notice of these Males must ■
be give»;iu a public gazette sixty days previous !
to the day of sale.
(□“Sales of Negroes by Administrators, Execu
tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction, on I
the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours of sale, before the Court House of the county
where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration
or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv
ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub
lic gazettes of this State, and at the door of the
Court House where such sales are to be held.
O’ Notice for the sale of Personal Property must
be given in like manner forty days previous to
the day of sale.
(Hz’ Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Es
tate must be published lor forty days.
C3*Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes must be published in a public gazette in this
State for four months, belbre any order absolute
can be given by the Court.
Q J*Citations for Letters of Administration on
an Estate, granted by the Court of; Ordinary, must
he published thirty days fof’Letters of Dismis
sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly
for six months —for Dismission from Guardian
ship forty days.
Rui.es for the foreclosure of a Mortgage*
must he published monthly for four months —
for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of
three months— for compelling Titles from Ex
ecutors, Administrators or others, where a bond
hasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of
THREE MONTHS.
N. It. All Business of this kind shall receive
prompt attention at the SOUTHERN MUSEUM
Office, and slrict care will be taken (bat all legal
Advertisements are published according to Law.
tCTAII Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must he post-paid, to in
sure attention, fj)
[for VIIE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.]
The Consumptive.
Ah, why is the brow ofthe loved one so and ?
Why trembles the tear in that mild beaming
eye ?
No response for the happy, no smile for the glad,
And the greetings of friends echoed back by a
sigh.
Arc the dreams of thy childhood all faded and
gone,
Has hope ceased to tiller any’ promise to thee?
In the midst ot light hearts is thv spirit alone,
And to sorrow a captive while others arc free?
The boon of existence, the blessing of life,
The treasures of I riendship, Devotion and
Love,
Arc the riches which cheer in this desert of strife,
But our permanentjoys arc in Heaven above.
If the bright things of earth have been strewn
in thy way,
And the blossoms of Hope by thy footsteps
been prest,
Thou wilt inourn not, when beauties like these
shall decay,
If thy tired soul pant for a “Haven of rest.”
A “fountain remainelli in Judah unsealed,”
Where the sick, the afflicted, and weary' may’
lave,
And where all the wounds ofthe spirit are healed;
fehall we dread the deep silence and gloom of
the grave ?
When sickness and suffering hath chastened the
heart,
And the spring of our youth hath been check- !
cd in its flow,
Then let us not sigh when summoned to part !
With all which hath fettered our spirits below.
Then let not despondency sadden thy soul, i
While yet tis confined by this tenure of clay,
Jor glorious the prize is, and happy the goal, S
And the shadows ot midnight are a prelude to
day.
H. i
t'rum the N. 0. Delta.
He True to Me.
by Theodore a. GOULD.
Be true to me !
Oh, do not let the blaze
Km „,r n ll "\ al . ,i,r of «hy heart burn low ;
But nurse With fondest zeal its blessed rays,
Ihat ,t may kindle to a brighter glow !
Huu to me !
Be truo to me ; .
Be as the star that burns
*»!,» «">
Be true to me! «orms of care,
Be true to me.
Not always may the bloom
[its pain,
Be true to me ;
lik .° t,le hapless bark
Without its compass on sr,m„ .
No beacon .light to -ruard it ii mc ® torln y sea —
If thouJrove Se l wm 6h d " k -
Bc true tome! ’ ‘ cxi!ltu ' tc be.
Correspondence of the Motional Intelligencer.
Tallui.au Falls,Ga., April 9,1518.
The subject of my present letter is Ailam
I Vandever, “The Hunter of Tallulah.”
His fame reached my ears soon after ar
riving at this place, and, having obtained
a guide, I paid him a visit at his retidence,
I which is planted directly at the mouth of
the Tallulah chasm. He lives in a log
cabin, occupying the centre of a small val
ley, through which the Tallulah river
winds its wayward course. It is complete
ly hemmed in on all sides by wild and ab
rupt mountains, and one of the most ro
mantic and beautiful nooks imaginable.
Vandever is about sixty years of age,
1 small in stature, has a regular built weasel
i face, a small grey eye, and wears a long
white beard. He was born in South Car
| olina, spent his early manhood in the wilds
| of Kentucky, and the last thirty years of
: his life in the wilderness of Georgia. J3y
. way of a frolic, he took a part in the Creek
I war, and is said to have killed more In
dians than any other white man in the ar
my. He is now living with his third wife,
and claims to be the father of over thirty
children , only five of whom, however, are
living under his roof, the remainder be
ing dead or scattered over the world. Du
ring the summer months he tills, with his
own hand, the few acres of land which
constitute his domain. His live stock con
sists of a mule and some half dozen gouts,
together with a number of dogs.
On inquiring into his forest life, he gave
me, among others, the following particu- '
lars. When the huutiug season eornmen- j
ces, early in November, be supplies him- i
self with every variety of shooting mate-j
rials, steel traps, and a comfortable stock i
of provisions, and placing them upon his j
mule, starts fursome wild region among i
the mouutains, where he remains until the i
following spring. The shanty which he j
occupies during this season is of the rudest j
character, v\ ith one side always open, as |
he tells lRe, for the purpose of having an j
abundance of fresh air. In killing wild
animals he pursues but two methods, call- j
ed “tire lighting” and “still hunting.” His j
favorite game is the deer, but he is not ;
particular, and secures the fur of every 1
four-legged creature which may happen j
to cross his path.- The largest number of j
skins that lie ever brought home at one !
time was six hundred, among which were
those of the bear, the black and gray wolf,
the panther, the wild Cat, the fox, the coon
and some dozen other varieties. He com
putes the entire number of deer that he
bus killed in his lifetime at four thousand.
\\ hen spring arrives, and he purposes to
return to his valley home, be packs his
furs upon his old mule, and, setting him
self upon the pile of plunder, makes a bee
line out of the wilderness. And, by those
who have seen him in this homeward
bound condition, 1 am told that he pre
sents one of the most curious and roman
tic pictures imaginable. While among
the mountains, his beast subsists upon
whatever it may happen to glean in its
forest rambles, and, when the first supply
of his own provisions is exhausted, he
usually contents himself with wild game,
which he is often compelled to devour un
accompanied with biead or salt. His
mule is the smallest and most miserable
looking creature of the kind that I ever
saw, and glories in the singular name of
"The Deed and Tom Walker .” When
Vandever informed me of this fact, which
he did with a self-satisfied air, l told him
that the first portion of the mule’s name
was more applicable to himself than to the
dumb beast; whereupon he “grinned hor
ribly a ghastly smile,” as if 1 had paid him
a eompliment.
On questioning my hunter friend with
regard to some of his adventures, he com
menced a rigmarole narrative, which would
have lasted a whole month had 1 not po
litely requested him to keep his mouth
closed while I took a portrait of him in
pencil. His stories all bore a strong fam
ily likeness, but were evidently to be re
lied on, and proved conclusively that the
the man knew not what it was to fear. As
specimens of the whole, 1 will outline a
few. On one occasion he came up to a
large gray wolf, into whose head he dis
charged a ball. The animal did not drop
but made its way into an adjoining cavern
and disappeared. Vandever waited a
j while at the opening, and as he could not
I see or hear his game, he concluded that it
1 had ceased to breathe, whereupon he fell
| upon his hands and knees, and entered the
cave. On reaching the bottom, he found
the wolf alive, when a “clinch fight” en
sued, and the hunter’s knife completely
severed the heart of the animal. On drag
ging out the dead wolf into the sunlight, it
was found that his lower jaw had been
broken, which was probably the reason
why he had not succeeded in destroying
the hunter.
At one time, when he was out of ammu- 1
nition, his dogs fell upon a large bear, and
it so happened that the latter got one of
thi; former in his power, and was about to
squeeze it to death. This was a sight the I
hunter could uot endure, so he unsheath
ed his huge hunting-kuife and assaulted
die black monster. The bear tore off
nearly every rag of his clothing, and in
making his first plunge with the knife he
completely cut off two of his own fingers
instead of injuring the bear. He was now
in a perfect phrenzy of pain and rage, and
3IACOX, (CA.,) SATURDAY HOH\|\(;, DEtEUBEK IS4S.
in making another effort succeeded to his
satisfaction, and gained the victory. That
bear weighed three hundred and fifty
pounds.
On another occasion he had fired at a
buck near the brow of a precipice some
thirty feet high, which hangs over one of
the pools in the Tallulah river; On see
ing the buck drop he took it for granted
that he was about to die, when he ap
proached the animal for iho purpose of
cutting its throat. To his great surprise,
however, the buck suddenly sprung to his
feet and made a tremendous rush at the
hunter with a view of throwing him off' the
ledge. But what was more remarkable,
the animal succeeded in its effort, though
not until Vandever had obtained a fair
hold ot the buck’s antlers, when the twain
performed a somciset into the pool below. j
The buck made its escape, and Vandever j
was not seriously injured" in any particu-1
lar. About a month subsequent to that I
time he killed a buck, which had a bullet
wound in the lower part of its neck, where
upon lie concluded that he had finally tri
umphed over the animal whieh had given
him the unexpected ducking.
But the most remarkable escape which
old Vandever ever experienced happened
on this wise. lie was encamped upon
one of the loftiest mountains in Union
county. It was near the twilight hour,
and lie had heard the howl of a wplf.
W ith a view of ascertaining the direction
whence it came, he climbed upon an im
mense boulder-rock, (weighing perhaps
fifty tons,) which stood on the very brow
of a steep hill side. While standing upon
this boulder he suddenly felt a swinging
sensation, and to his astonishment he
found that it was about to make a fearful
plunge into the ravine half a mile below
him. As fortune would have it, tiie limb
of an oak tree drooped over the rock ; and
as the lock started from its toiliish foun
dation, he seized the limb, and thereby
saved his life. I lie dreadful crashing of
the boulder as it descended the mountain
side came to the hunter’s car while lie was
suspended in the air, and by the time it
had reached the bottom he dropped him
self on the very spot which had been vaca
ted by the boulder. A andever said that
this was the only time in his life when he
had been really frightened ; and he also
added, that for one day after his escape he
did not care a finger’s snap for the finest
game in the wilderness.
While on my visit to Vandever’s cabin,
one of his boys came home from a fishing
expedition, and on examining his fish 1
was surprised to find a couple of shad and
three or four striped buss or rod; fish.
I hey had been taken in the Tallulah, just
below the chasm, by means of a wicker
net, and at a point distant from the ocean
at least two hundred and fifty miles. 1
had been informed that the Tallulah a
bounded in trout, but 1 was not prepared
to find salt-water fish in this remote moun
tain wilderness.
•Since 1 have introduced the above youth
lul \ andever to my readers, I will record
a single one ot his deeds, which ought to
give him a fortune, or at least an educa
tion. ’I he incident occurred when he was
in his twelfth year. He and a younger
brother had been gathering berries on a
mountain side, ami were distant from home
about two miles. AY liile carelessly tramp
ing down the weeds and bushes, the
younger boy was bitten by a rattlesnake
on the calf of his leg. In a few moments
thereafter the unhappy child fell to the
ground in great pain, and the pair were in
unexpected tribulation. The elder boy,
having succeeded in killing the rattlesnake
conceived the idea, as the only alternative,
of carrying his little brother home upon
his back. And this deed did the noble
fellow accomplish. For two long miles
did he carry his heavy burden, over rocks
and down the water courses, and in an
hour after he had reached his father’s cab
in the younger child was dead ; and the
heroic boy was in a state of insensibility
from the fatigue and heat which he had
experienced. lie recovered, however,
and is now apparently in the enjoyment of
good health, though when I fixed my ad
miring eyes upon him it seemed to me that
he was far from being strong, and it was
evident that a shadow rested upon his
brow.
Pork vs. Beef. —A laughable scene
occurred recently at a tavern in Brooklyn.
A dandy boarder who was used to liv
ing on the fat of the land, and when his
board bills became due, put off’ payment
by some plausible excuse, was summoned
one day by ringing the bell to dinner, and
upon looking at the viands on the table,
spread out in Mrs. S’s best style,
sneeringly observed, “I declares it is no
thing but pork ! pork !! pork !! !” “Well,
if you’ll pay Mistress your bill now due,”
' said a servant girl, “you can get beef!
beef! ! beef!! ! likewise.”
Irish Dialogue. —“Arra, Teddy—an’
j wasn’t yer name Teddy O’Byrne, before
ye left ould Ireland !” “Sure it was, me
darlint.” “But my jewel, ye add an s,
and call yerself Teddy O’Byrnes now 1 ’
| “Ye spalpeen ! don’t ye know I’ve been
j married since I came to Ameriky 1 and are
ye so ignorant of grametics, as not to
know one object added to another becomes
plural!" \
11l- liu.stlun.tl, tile Sympathy- of Nature.
BV ERNEST HELFENSTEIN.
Man silteth in the midst of a crowd.—
He looketh into die very face of his bro
ther, and yet it is strange to him—for a
veil is upon it. He covereth tire soul in
terror from a creature like himself, which
at the same time he dares reveal to the ma
jesty of heaven with all its defacements.
Shrinking from human scrutiny, he still
findeth security in numbers ; strong in the
aggregate,, but weak and defenceles apart.
He congregates in masses, for it is his na
ture to do so; and he gains power moral
ly and physically by this attrition of mind
i upon mind—this magnetkm of atom upon
j atom. He feeioth the pulsations of his
i °wn heart akin to those about him, and
thence he deriveth a moral grandeur.
Uowardly anil weak by himself, he
planteth a living, breathing wall, and thus ■
breasteth the cannon’s mouth. When the
iron foot of oppression is crushed upon his
sinews, an under-ground swell ariseth. It
is the great voice of a common nature ap
pealing to its fellow ;—it is the sound at
whose vibrations thrones topple to the
earth.
Man herdeth in cities; yet his individ
ual nature is not forgotten—for walls are
built up, and bolts and bars are affixed ;
and midnight lamps, and sentinels, and
prisons and tortures and gibbets. Thus
heseeketh companionship, and yet dwell
etii as in a brotherhood of Cains !
There cometh war and pestilence, and
famine. Man scanneth coldly the ties of
companionship. He is appalled at the
gaunt looks of his neighbor; he clutcheth
fix - the morsel of bread, and struggleth for
the free air.
Then he diethbythe way-side, mindless
of birth or kin ; —then lie goetli forth pale
and terror-stricken, for human compacts
are severed, and lie castifth about his sus
picious eyes, beholding a foe in every hu -
man shape; and thus he deserteth his
goodly palaces !
I he voice of suffering, of business, or
pleasure, ceaseth from the city. Silence
broodeth at the gates. The spider spin
nctli her drapery ; the hat hangeth from
the cornice, and the foot of the fox patteth
the marble hall. Columns sway to the
earth, and the serpent basketh upon archi
tecture. The gray moss anil the green
vine seize companionship upon the lattice,
and huge trees shadow the court where
the fountain sent up its melody.
Silence broodeth at the gates ! Listen!
1 >o you not hear Nature at her laboratory'?
Silently she upheavetli the marble pave
ment to reveal the sheen-like grass. A
mound ariseth, small indeed, yet con
structed by one of her agents ; and now a
dusky mole darteth forth from its covert.
The green lizard glideth in its burnished
mail, and fearetli not the foot of man.
This capsule of moss, filled with the
dews of the morning, hath found a resting
in the very eyes of the morning, hath found
a resting in the very eyes of a statue, that
once might have filled an artist with all of
Pygmalion’s yearning. This blossom is
planted upon a tomb ; —it may have been
that of the lovely, the beloved !
Turn away! Nature beedeth thee not.
She worketh ever at her beautiful crea
tions, filling the waste and desolate places,
shrouding n. .n and his works with her own
gay mantle, or whispering, “Let the per
turbed rest.”
And thus she husheth the great desert
where he hath been, and svorketh by her
self till he is forgotten. Ages on ages she
steadfastly filleth her bowers wiih beauty;
rounding with lichen, and dropping with
vine, till the poor dreamer beneath and
the memory of his works have ceased from
the earth.
Nature hath no sympathy with the
dream-worker who movetb in her midst, a
strange mystery, creating like herself, in
deed, yet all that he doetli to be ere long
covered by her own gray pall, till ready
for the sepulchre.
Is it thus with all that he docth I Ask
thyself, dream-child. Shall all things pe
rish with thee ? Rest not till a response
cometh from thine own breast that shall
fill thee with awe and with hope.
Nature hath no sympathy with thee. It
is the life within thee, that imparteth the
glory thou dost behold in her. Hope and
life are buoyant within thee, and the blue
sky and the green earth become a part of
thy blessedness. Peace foldethher wings
about thee, and tranquility is born of the
warm air, the soft shadows, and the lisp
ing waters.
Love ! —alas ! poor dreamer, awake
thou not—love hath cast a spell about thee,
and anew voice of harmony, a sweet lan
guage of divine affinities, breathed) ever
in thine ears. Bird and blossom, earth
aad sky, reveal a holier aspect.
Unloved, unappreciated, hopeless, des
pairing, appeal not now to Nature. She
hath no mood of sympathy;—she looketh
coldly upon thee. Mindful of her own la
bor, she heedeth not the anguish of thy
heart. Her beautiful works apart from
thee, chill tlice with a double sense of
desolation. She stayeth not a single de
velopement that thou art in anguish of spi
rit. She worketh on, on, even as though
thou hadst no existence.
The life is within thyself. It is tliou
who dost impart the gladness and the
beauty. Nature is a dove. She worketh
Iby fixed laws—day by day resolving and
j renewing. Ages on ages findeth her still
the same, working out forms, the types
of which exist in thine own breast.
Thou hast emotions born of earth—con
i tent with earth, and to these she seemeth
to respond. Anon come those infinite
yearnings, those deep, unutterable mys
teries, that neither language nor earth
may typify , still thou findest nature busy
at the many angled crystal, painting the
blossom, singing in woodland bower and
gushing waterfall, ever the same—and
she hath no response in thine appeal for
sympathy.
Alas ! dost thou not awake to feel that
thine is a nobler destiny—that this intense
solitude, which nature, so genial in all
i common emotions, helpeth now to press
j upon the heart pointeth to a something be-
I yond ! She wbispereth in thine ear—
“ Thou hast opened the seventh seal of
human life, and what thou boholdest is
hidden from me. My ministry is accom
plished. Thou art entering in the veil.—
Thou hast borne the image of the earthly,
now also shall thou bear the image of the
heavenly.”
Mourn not that thy proud Talmud be
come the ruin of the desert ; that the pla
ces that now know thee in thy majesty and
the grandeur of thy creative energy, shall
soon know thee no more and forever.—
Here thy skill is at work among things
that perish ; y r et do thy conceptions stretch
onward to the unseen and the eternal,
and therein is thy glory, thy strength, and
thine unfailing source of joy.
A ouNG Men. —The idea is prevalent in
some communities, that young men are fit
neither for generals nor statesmen,and that
they must be kept in the back ground un
til their physical strength is impaired by
age, and their intellectual faculties become
blunted by the weight of years. Let us
look to the history of the jiast, anil from
the long list of heroes anil statesman, select
some who have distinguished themselves,
and we shall find that they were young
nun when they performed those acts which
have won for them an imperishable meed
of fame, and placed theii names high on
the page of history.
Alexander the conqueror of the then
whole civilized world, viz: Greece, Egypt
and Asia, died at 33.
Buonaparte was crowned Emperor of
France when 33 years of age.
Pitt, the younger brother, was about 20
years of age, when, in the British Parlia
ment he boldly advocated the cause of the
American Colonies, and but 22 when made
Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Edmund Burke, at the age of 25, was
first Lord of the Treasury.
Our own Washington was but 25 when
lie covered the retreat of the British troops
at Braddock’s defeat, and was appointed
to the command in chief of all die Virginia
forces.
Alexander Hamilton, at 20, was a Lieu
tenant Colonel and Aid to Washington—
at 25 a member of Congress—at 33 Secre
tary of the Treasury.
Thomas Jefferson wns but 32 when he
drafted the ever memorable Declaration
of Independence.
Sir Isaac Newton, at the age of 30 years,
occupied the Mathematical chair at Cam
bridge College, England, having by his
scientific discoveries rendered his name
immortal.
We might continue the list to a grcatei
length, but enough /ias been said already,
to prove that the idea that young men are
not capable of performing great and enno
bling actions, or of taking a high position
in the councils of a nation, is chimerical
and visionary. And what has been said,
may well serve to encourage the young to
set up a high standard and press towards
it with ardor, suffeiing nothing to discour
age them from soaring “onward and up
ward” in the paths of fame, or in the pur-
of file: aiure and science.
Modern Science. — How astonishing
are the results of modern mechanical sci
ence. The commerce across the deserts.'
of Arabia, once so great and extensive, lias j
been destroyed by the Mariner’s compass, I
and Tyre and Sidon have fallen from their
ancient commercial greatness. The steam
engine has struck down the trade of the
caravan, and the steamboat rides bravely
on the waters of the Nile, proclaiming to
the inhabitants oftlic Delta the powers and
genius of a people belonging to a country
which was unknown to Nero. Our levia
thans of the new world proclaim to the in
habitants of the old the power and civil
ization of the fabled Atalantus ; and Asia,
the cradle of the human race, is now re
ceiving lessons of freedom and knowledge
from the land of the setting sun. Ameri
can citizens are highly honored in the city
of Constantinople, and are selected by the
.Sultan as teachers of science. There is a
bright path laid out for our country : that
of carrying freedom, science and knowl
edge to the ends of the earth. May we
not neglect to tread in this path of true
glory. The eyes of the wliold world are
now fixed intensely on America, and ac
cording as we act, right or wrong, so do we
exert an influence upon other nations for
good or evil. Nations should be exem
plary in their characters, as individuals ;
and we hold it to be the greatest glory of
any nation to bo great in knowledge and
viituu. *
TEKENCE IN ENGLAND.
Terence was an honest, witty, happy
sort of Irishman, one who could take a joke
and give one, as handsomely as any man
in Kilkenny. Terence was a regular vis
itor to old England, every harvest to help
John Bull to get in his grain, and such like
matters. The last time Terence went to
England, a certain snob fell in his track,
much to the discomfort of both. The snob
felt uneasy in the presence of such an un
couth, “uncultivated Irishman.” Poor
Terence felt, to use his own words,
“mighty quare at standing in the prisence
of such an unchristian looking crather.
By the powers !” he cried, “whatafumiy
baste ! The like o’ ye I niver seed before
nor since. Sure yer father and mother
must have been Romulus and Ilaipus.”
“Now Pat!” said the Cockney, about
to put a poser, “can you tell me who was
the wisest man ?” i
Terence scratched his head in seeming,
perplexity, “Now don’t ye be hard on mo
sur, that hasn’t no laming at this prisint
time, barring what I got when a gossoon,
and being afilictcil with a wake mimory,
I lost ivery word o’ that long ago. So you
sec, sur, that’s all I got, not a whit more at
all, at all. But may be ye’d be so kind as
to tell me sur, who the gintleman is V ’
“No Pat, your memory won’t stand it,
and it would be wrong to put this on
you.”
“Och ! now it’s very considerate ye are,
thank ye sur. But may be sur, ye could
tell me who is the most famous maniu the
earth, in my opinion, 1 mean as it regards
folly.”
“ Well then Pat I must confess, that I
cannot tell. Perhaps you can ?”
“I can sur, anil sure it’s yerself that is,
in my opinion, the biggest fool in the
world.”
The cockney becamo enraged, and was
firmly resolved to hurl a shot at Terence
by allusion to a favorite subject. “Paddy,”
said he, “how do the potatoes get along in
Ireland ?”
Terence could not bear an insinuation
against his particular friends.
“Och !by the houly Paul!” said he,
gently raising his shelalah. “It’s fine
they’re growing sure. Here’s the stalk o’
one. Just feel the weight of it!” With
this suggestion Terence leveled a blow at
the poor cockney, which descended more
like a sledge hammer than a potato stalk,
for it laid the poor fellow sprawling, in a
very mutilated condition, the claret run
ning on the ground as if it cost nothing.
“Good morning,, sur,” said Terence,
“sure ye’ll be all the better for this bloofl
letting.”
Truth alone is Beautiful. —There
is an innate principle in the human heart
which causes men to love truth and regard
it as something peculiarly valuable, beau
tiful and majestic. The images of a live
ly fancy, or the fairy forms of the ideal
world, may delight for a moment the rest
less mind ; but truth only can impart a
peace which partakes of its own dignity,
simplicity and eternity. Those who are
charmed with finely wrought tales of ima
ginary joys or woes, and are wont to feed
the immortal intellect with “airy nothing,”
feci too painfully the insufficiency of fic
tion to supply the deep necessities of the
soul; and though such seldom become the
lovers and defenders of truth, they are ac
customed to regard it as a treasure which
possesses the inherent power of imparting
a lasting satisfaction to its possessor.
So spontaneously does the love of truth
spring up in the human heart, that no sys
tem of error, however studied and specious
would meet the approbation of mankind,
did it not assume the garb of reality, and
present itself to the inquiring mind as the
object of its search.
Truth, then, may be regarded as having
an original abode in the human soul ; and
doubtless that earlier man who stood upon
(lie earth, and held “sweet converse with
Cherubim and Seraphim,” saw it in all
perfection and loveliness. But when the
polluting and destructive influence of sin
introduced disorder and confusion into the
harmonious universe, and marred the
beautiful symmetry of man’s moral consti
tution, prejudice, in part, gained the as
cendancy over the principle, and obtained
a seat in tke heart there to defend error
and counterfeit truth.
When we consider truth as an emana
tion front Deity, an attribute of the Eter
nal, as destined in the progress of time, to
revolutionize the world, and restore man
to his pristine similarity to his Maker, it is
not surprising that a silent awe and admi
ration should steal over us ; and while we '
contemplate its grandeur and purity, that
sublime emotions should fill the soul, and
that it should present itself to rational be
ings, as alone beautiful.
|CT Justice is a duly—generosity a vir
tue. Yet the world is too apt to regard
the first as a favor, and the latter as a folly.
is a man’s head like a lumber
wagon ! Because the less it has in it the
more noise it makes.
eloquence amongst
men, is like a cypress tree in a forest, be
ing great and tall, but bearing no fruit.
(t!7”Reprove a friend privately; but
coiftmcnd one publicly.
NO. 1.