frill be published every SATURDAY Morning ,
H jll the Corner of Walnut and Fifth Streets, j
IN THE CITY OF MACON, OA.
it V IIABRISOHT A MWE Its.
I For the Paper, in advance, per annum, $2.
I if not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum.
| If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00. ,
I (£j* Advertisements will be inserted at tiie usual
'Yates —and when the number of insertions do-
Vired is not specified, they will be continued un
*til forbid and charged accordingly.
I Jj’ Advertisers by the Year will be contracted
• with upon the most favorable terms.
| of Land by Administrators, Executors
tor Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on
the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours
tof ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af
ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which
the Property is situate. Notice ofthese .sales must
fee given in a public gazette sixty days previous
to the day of sale.
(LTSales of Negroes by Administrators, Execu- j
Ws or Guardians, must be at Public Auction, on
the first Tuesday in the month, between the legal
jpours of sale, before the Court House of the county
w here the Letters Testamentary, or Administration
tor 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.
[TyNotice for the sale of Personal Property must
fee given in like manner forty days previous to
the day of sale.
Jg Notice to the Debtors and Creditorsofan Es
tate must be published for forty days.
£jr*.\otice that application will be made to the
Ctn irt of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne-
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rate for four months, before any order absolute
can be given by the Court.
■ TT’CTt ations for Letters of Administration on
tan Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
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for six months —for Dismission from Guardian
ship forty days.
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trout be puolish-d monthly for four months —
for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of
three months —for compelling Titles from Ex-
Hcutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond
fiasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of
[ N. B. All Business of this kind shall receiv
jbrompt attention at the SOUTHER N MUS LI ll
Office, and s:rct care will be taken that all legal
Advertisements are published according to Law.
|| (LJ’AII Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in
sure attention. ..T
[for the southern museum.J
I know that ere the lapse of years
Have sow n these locks with silver gray,
This form by friends, perchance with tears,
Shall to its rest be laid away.
I know that when the turf shall lie
In grassy verdure on mv breast,
That few will pause of passers by,
To think of him who there shall rest.
I know that soon my humble name
'.n Shall sink amid Life’s busy din,
And not a sole memorial claim,
To witness that I e’er have been.
’Tis well—for little would I care
To swell the rolls of high renown ;
’Tis fondness all for empty air—
s:4B The prince shall moulder with the clown
Yet would I in some faithful heart.
That once had loved me iongand w ell,
Still share an undivided part,
And there s.ill unforgotten dwell.
Yes—let some friend—warm, true,sincere —
\VI lose generous soul could bear with me,
Reinernb’ring with a silent tear,
Not what 1 teas, hut what would hr.
'Let such—although but one he found,
Still think of me w hen life is o’er,
And be my memory clustered round
That faithful heart—l’ll ask no more.
LOVE NEVER SLEEPS.
Love never sleeps ! The mother’s ey e
Bends o'er her dying infant’s bed ;
And as she marks the moments fly,
While death creeps on with noiseless tread,
Faint and distressed, she sits and weeps,
With beating heart!— Lore never sleeps.
Yet e’en that sad and fragile form,
Forgets the tumult of her breast;
Despite the horrors of the storm,
I O’erburdened nature sinks to rest.
But o’er them both another keeps
II is midnight watch— Lore never sleeps.
Around—above—the angel bands
jgHStoop o’er the care-worn sons of men ;
W ith pitying eyes and eager hands
AETliey raise the soul to hope again.
Free as the air their pity sweeps
The storms of time ! — Love never sleeps.
And round—beneath—and over all,
<J er man and angels, earth and heaven,
A higher bends! flic sliglitest’call
is answered, and relief is given,
lnHioui sot woe, when sorrow steeps
The heart in pain He never sleeps.
O! God of love ! our eyes to thee
■Tired of the world’s false radiance turn •
And as we view thy purity,
feel our hearts within us burn,
Convinced that in the lowest deeps
Jj iKhuiiian ill— Love never sleeps.
It speaketh in the modest rose,
It whispereth in the night,
i !i!, un<^ ret * 1 . ‘ n the howling storm
19 The electric flash of light ;
rose, nor night, n..r tree, nor wind
eg.. A°r lightning glare, nor storm,
Jpucli beauty hath as woman’s eye
I As woman’s matchless form. " '
From the Saturday Evening rost.
Beauty and Genius its Obscurity.
A TALE FOR NEW YEAR’S DAY.
BY MRS. MARY B. NORTON.
“All are merry, all are happy, all are
loved, in this great city, but one unfortu
nate ! All happy, all gay ! And I, with
a spirit loving all things beautiful, longing
for companionship with the gentle and re
fined, with the knowledge burning within
that I might adorn the circle of intelli
gence, so distant from the sphere I move
in, l mast live and grieve, and die, in this
pent-up atmosphere, with no name in the
world’s history, nr? place in any mortal’s
Oil! the bitterness of that gifted mind
—the crushing hopelessness of that lonely
lot! Worse than the bed of
was the sickness that filled that soul; worse
than death, far worse, the coldness that !
was creeping over that rich heart ?
A young girl sat by the window of a low
dwelling, in a crowded street. She was a
foreigner, with the dark rich beauty of her
native land triumphant through the gloom
of heavy sadness which rested on her elo
quent face. She sat with her head droop
ing, and her beautiful hands clasped—a
picture of hopelessness, lovely even in its
coloring of abandonment to the bitter hour.
Lonely and touching was that sorrowing
one ; and when a voice from a bed in one
corner of the room faintly called “Corin
ne,” the struggle she made to overcome
the oppression of her spirit, so she might
answer the call composedly, gave her high
brow a holier charm, and made her seem,
in that poor dwelling, like the mortal type
of those who are the invisible agents of
That was indeed an humble room—a
very humble room for genius and beauty
to make a home of! No birds were there,
no flowers, no music from hearts or lips !
Sickness was there, and gloom ; old age,
and fretfulness ; shadows and sighs ! The
only sunshine there, was the young girl,
in her patient care of her sick mother ;
she never complained of that. The great
est shadow on the hearth was that of an
old man, sullenly brooding over by-gone
days ; an o'd man withered by the going
out of fiery youth, when there was no
other inner life, to give a charm and fiesh-
J ness to the aged brow. That shadow was
ever on the hearth—lie- mother’s wander
ing words ever in her ear. Why wonder
that the lonely girl gave vent sometimes to
the bitter tide flooding her heart; tha' she
pined for sympathy, as a weary and faint
ing travellc in a strange laud !
The mtorniug upon which that sad solil
oquy was breathed, when he heart of the
spiritually-longing girl seemed weighed
down with anew heaviness, was New
Year—“happy New Year;” and she had
i felt anew how little she was cared for—
how little the world possessed of gladness
to her, as she heard the noisy greeting of
| children in the street, and saw the little
1 gifts shown proudly around. She passed
from chi dish joy to the proud pleasure of
j older minds, rejoicing in tokens of affec
j tion on this day of festival; and, in her
i solitude and sadness, envied a'l sinlessly
j ibe blessedness of those remembered by
j the loving.
Yes, it was New Year’s day in New
j York. file air was clear anil co!d—the
heavens in a most favorable state for coui
| municating the bright morning greeting
| of gay, generous old Sol, to our fair Mother
Earth. The streets of the famed Gotham
I rested from 'die constant pressure of load
ed drays upon their stony breasts, (forgive
me that 1 should make them so cold heart
ed,)and the closed shutters ofthe “legion”
merchants on Broadway gave silent no
tice, that young clerks dealt with more an
imate tilings that day thaumeasuringsticks
and silks. :yul were not “at home” to nev
er so anxious customers.
All over the great city, creation’s lords
looked in their mirrors anxiously, and put
the finishing grace to whiskers as careful
ly turned as a lady ’s curl.
All over the great city, white gloves and
well brushed hats lay upon bachelor’s ta
bles, ready for the hour which fashion had
said was the proper one to commence
And all over the great city, luxuries
were laid out, as if the slaves of Aladdin’s
lamp had been called upon for a universal
Door-bells rung ; servant men and
maids, answering them, received large
packages and small, all eloquent with com
pliments and gifts.
Fifes were played, drums were beaten,
trumpets made their lone alarum through
the nurseries of all homes, where baby
boys played war with their new toys ; jjnd
wonderful was the birth of waxen beauties,
with marvellous blue eyes—out of order
soon from constant using—which made
the hearts of baby-girls bound with the
embryo emotions of motherly joy.
Some young ladies’hearts were dancing
some trembling hopefully. Some young
mens’ hearts were delightfully calm and
firm, some dreadfully undetermined by
diffidence and doubt. But all had hope !
There was no rich table spread in the
close room called Corinne’s home. No
toilette received her thought—no gift
came, with its voice of love or friendly
interest. She listened to no footstep, for
MACON, (0A.,) SATURDAY MORNINO, JANUARY G, ISI9.
there was none but would pass by. She
waited for no fond kiss, for the lips of bro
ther and sister in the wide world’s family
were to her as if they had been of ice ;
they were deadly cold to the stranger in
the lone dwelling!
Alone upon the sea of li'e ! with no
star in the heaven rs hope—no voice on
the deep, dark water, to soothe ! Poor
girl! Poverty in gold was very light to
bear, compared to that dread poverty the
soul was crushed-by! Her duty was the
one object of her life. She freely gave
her youth and strength to it ; but it made
her eye dim, sometimes.
Her mother, beautiful but weak, bad,
after her first widowhood, been bought by
an old man’s geld. The wealth which had
bribed her to forget the dead, was lost;
and she soon sank into a languor of the
heart and mind, that made bet child’s life
a constant sacrifice.
The husband, stunned by the fall from
affluence to poverty, and with no heart of
youth to win back by patience his lost
riches, became morose and sullen, leaving
to his step-daughter the miserable effort
to gain their daily bread.
Was not this a home to break a young
spirit down ? No comfort in her mother’s
smile, for there was scarce a ray of rea
son in it ; and the shadow of that old man,
a stranger as it were, ever on her hearth !
She must not leave her to die, or him to.
starve, and so she poured the wealth of
her gifted intellect out lavishly for their
sakes, coining her lofty thoughts for food.
A few months ago, they had lived in a
sunny land, a land of poetry ; had looked
upon a landscape of vineyard, stream,
and wood, which they could call their
own. And now they were the tenants of
a low, mean dwelling, across the waters,
over which they had fled in pride and po
verty. The mother sickened with the
change, and became as helpless as a child;
but the old man’s nature turned to hate,
for the beautiful Corinne had been, inno
cently, the ruin of his house.
A young Italian count, wanting in all
things honorable, had offered the noble
girl indignities, which she resented so
proudly, with such galling contempt,
that his evil ttatuie was excited almost to
frenzy, and he determined to bring her
down to poverty, if not to shame. It was
an important crisis in the step-futher’s af
fairs, when this bad purpose was resolved
upon ; and its accomplishment brought
bitter trial to the virtuous Corinne. The
old man cursed her often as the destroyer
of hi* fortunes —the dark shadow upon his
She a shadow of evil! Old man, look
upon the hearth!
Before the noon of that New Y'ear’s
day, a clearer paleness stole over the mo
ther’s face—a stranger brightness tilled
the wandering eye. “Whatcan it mean?”
whispered Corinne’s heart.
I? means, poor orphan child, that the
Author of the life, to you burdensome, is
nearing her reward—that the old man
blooding selfishly vv ill soon be left a grief
less widower, the solitary sharer of youi
| unhappy destiny—that while you gaze,
the spirit of one that has been mortal is
filling with immortality—with visions all
too wonderful for speech !
And gently, peacefully, the spit it pass
ed from the earthly to the heavenly. Co
rinne stood by the bed of death, moved by
its sanctity, but more envying than griev
ing, as she saw the calmness settling on
those features, so lately troubled w ith the
expression of a fading mind’s unquiet.—
When her father left her for his better
home, Corinne had needed every consola
tion ; for to him she owed all the cultiva
tion of her intellect—the best affections of
her heart. But her mother’s beauty had
been her only dower ; and when disease
came to her, the weakness of her mind
became more distinct with fading loveli
ness. Alas! that one who had received
the precious gift of an immortal child,
should ever neglect, devotion to it, for fond
attentions to charms not half so beautiful
as a mother’s love !
Yet as Corinne gazed on her beautiful
parent, no longer restless with life, she
trusted that the weakness she had mourned
over would be mercifully dealt with in the
great judgment court; for her mother had
been a petted, darling child, and the sin
of selfish vanity must fall more heavily on
other heads thn hers.
Until sunset the orphan was busy round
the dead, who slept so peacefully. The
old man made no sign that he was moved,
sittiug, as he always sat, and his voice
muttering, as it always muttered, dark
words against the vii tue whose keeping
had cast him from his place of honor down
—down to the wretched fortunes of that
The beauty which be had sought with
childish eagerness to win, was like the
loveliness of the child whose purity had
ruined him, and so it became hateful to
him. Death upon that white brow could
not soften him, for the armor of his soul
was the steel of selfishness ; and no dart
but that which would destroy his own
mortal nature could pierce it.
Corinne had finished the duties which
arc called sad—she had shrouded the still
waving lines of beauty in the last robe—
when a knock startled her. It was a
strange sound in that dull place, and Co
rinne hastened to answer it, us speedily
as if it had been an angel visitant, whis
pering, “Let Hope in !”
Theie was no angel visitor upon the
threshold as she opened the door; but
Hope did come in. A gift was handed
her—her, the lonely, the uncared for!
A New Y'ear’s gift! of a valuable Italian
work, elegantly bound, “A tribute from
a friend, who respected talent, and great
fidelity.” And the note which accompa
nied it—how kind, how loving; full of
warm interest in her history, hinting at
a present necessity of the writer remain
ing unknown to her: but breathing
throughout u half-veiled passion like a
The old man had raised his head anx
iously at the sight ofthe unexpected pack*
age; but had bent it again with some
thing like a groan, as a richly ornamented
book alone repaid him for the effort. He
thought it might be gold.
Oh, it was gold to one poor heart there!
It was a voice from a human soul—a
bright link thrown to her from the social
chain, binding her anew to the outer world.
It was a g’eam of light dancing through
all the dark chambers of her soul, giving
her new life even in that visiting-place of
Death. It was true that she had on that
New Year’s day lost all sympathy of blood
with the race her mother sprung from—
but the long chilled current of her heart
had been warmed, and began to flow as
the youthful tide ever should. The icy
crust at the fountain-head of joy gave way
at the warm touch of friendliness. Even
her eye was moistened with the sweet
wacrs, so refreshing to the thirsty soul.
And when she sat down by her mother’s
bed again, bhe almost trembled at the
power anew hope had over her; she al
most saddened again in believing she was i
cruel to her mo.her’e memory, in filling
her place so soon with anew image.
But her parent had been dead to her for j
months; and the joy of being thought o',
loved, had been born to her since the sun !
rose. We cannot wonder that the day of
festival did not end in such tears us it had
Passionate, gifted, spiritual Corinne
Gietti, gave the rich treasure of her un
shared though s to the author of the earn
est note lying close to her heart; and that
New Y'ear’s evening, by the departed, re
mained forever clear in the young girl’s
memory when time and happiness had
faded the impressions of her other lonely
“My poor, poor Karl ! What gladness
can all this wealth and brightness give me,
when my only sou, my darling boy, is los
ing all his loveliness in the love of wine ?”
Was there any cause for sorrow on this
New Vein ’s evening in the rich dwelling
of Peter Van Sehenek ? Was the heart
of a millionaire troubled as one crushed by
Brilliant were the rooms, and gay the
meeting of young friends, in the mansion
of a father grieving for his first-born. The
New Y ear’s tables were loaded with deli
cate confections ; the fanciful Chinese and
antique stands were burdened with costly
gifts; dazzling light fell all around, illu
minating curtained recesses, rich iri cun
ning bijouterie; and music was there with
flowers, smiles and their motliei—Hope.
But a shadow was there; and although
the blaze of light might fall directly on that
lather’s brow, it could not take the shadow
off. And though the mother's eye spar
kled sometimes at one joy left, the light
could not put out the glimmering of a tear,
which trembled on the lashes, drooping
often and heavily upon the cheek. And
although the sister shone a gem of beauty
beneath the brilliant ray, it could not
pierce the inner temple, where lay the ru
ins of strong affection, and gild them joy
A son, an only son —a brother, an only
brother—with a warm heart, and intellect
refined by a student’s life, had given idol
izing friends a taste of sorrow more bitter
than that the death-call brings. For many
years young Karl Y’an Sclienck had loved
the wine cup better than the peace of
hcarls; and on this annual festival occa
sion had ever returned at a late hour, and
with a polluted brow, to his arristocratic
home. The anxious ear of fat her, mother,
and sister, had ever caught the well-known
sound of his uneven step, as it approached
their door, and listened, as it slowly, stum
blingly, passed over the stairs which led to
the erring one’s room. The New Y’onr’s
night was sure to bring the trembling form,
the wandering eye ; for the many calls
during the exciting day brought many a
draught of poison to Karl’s lips.
Oh! away with this red snare of wine,
which evil lurks in, because it cannot lin
ger amid the fruits and flowers which in
nocence loves so well ? Let it no longer
fascinate with its glowing eye and biting
tongue the sons and brothers, who pass from
.house to house with the New Year’s con
gratulations 1 Let Nature’s unpolluted
I gifts, the varied confectionary of ingenious
I Art, and the cheering contents of the
[ smoking urn, be enough of hospitality,
without the luxury which a mistaken gen
erosity offers to easily excited lips !
But what light stronger than the bright
ness of that artificial day—what joy great
er than the youthful hope upon the faces
of that gay company —has cast suddenly
away the shadow from the father’s blow—
has quenched the tear in the mother’s eye
has gilded the ruins in the sirter’s heart ?
Nothing more bright than the presence of
a young man, who, presenting a beautiful
bouquet to Kate Y r an Sclienck, kissed bet
It was the son—the brother 1 His eye
was clear, his fine form erect, his hand firm
and warm, as he grasped his sister’s, with
an emphasis that had a world of meaning
iu it. He met his mother’s eye with the
consciousness of its joyful wonder glowing
in his face, and sought her side, after due
attention to his sister’s guests, with the fer
vor of a prodigal.
He had a gift for both his parents; but
what were gifts, compared to his dear
presence, as he stood there, in manly beau
ty, with reason unwavering—with intellect
uuquenched by wine 1 And oh! how mer
rily to them now passed the hours ! All
was shadowless, now that the light of
Karl’s clear eye fell upon the scene.
A gleam of joy had come to the rich
dwelling, while the beautiful watcher by
the untroubled couch dreamed of new life.
That night a strong man bent his knee
for the first time before the Throne, and
asked for strength to overcoma a foe. It
was Karl Y r an Sehenek, sanctifying by
earnest prayer bis vow of reformation.
’Twas New Y'ear’s eve again. Twelve
months had passed since Hope had sent
her angels to the poor dwelling of Co
rinue, and the young Karl’s luxuriant
home. The lowly room was desolate now;
hut again the rich mansion of Peter Van
Sclienck was dazz ing with light—again a
gay company was assembled in the spa
cious rooms. But the rooms were crowd
ed now, and more lavishly adorned with
the rare embroidery of flowers. Jewels
flashed, feathers kissed snowy necks, rich
dresses added grace to lovely forms. All
was life, all flutter, all animation. It was
a bridal. Whose ?
Who was the bride ? The “ very beau
tiful,” whose romantic story was on all
lips ? Who was it, that bore herself so
gracefully, so nobly, before a multitude of
eyes ? What made all hearts acknowl
edge there was wordi enough under that
gifted brow to equal rank ? and wonder
not, that the passionate love of such a crea
ture had won a victim from fast-strength
ening chains ?
It wes Corinne!—Corinne, the lonely
orphan girl!—who stood now by the side
of Karl Y r an Sclienck, the wife, the idol of
his soul! It was Corinne! raised from
the darkness of her low liorae to this bril
liancy of fashion and wealth!—Corinne!
the dreaming watcher—the laborer for
bread—now petted by a happy family—
now the object of such love as she had
longed for in heavily-burdened hours!
And never was there a happier bridal;
never was there a lovelier bride known in
the proud circle in which the Van Schencks
moved. Even the old man, whose shadow
had been upon the hearth so long, caught
the admiration of the crowd ; and made
himself useful now in telling how wealthy
he had been ! and ennobling his beautiful
step-daughter’s purity by giving it as the
cause of their changed fortune. The old
man’s heart was softened wonderfully by
the homage Corinno was now the object
But how came all this about 1
One little year ago, and the unknown
friend sent his first token of interest—aye,
fore —to the young foreigner. One little
year ago, that affection was first acknowl
edged, which had the power to raise the
lover from the “ downward way ” to the
glorious height of temperance and prayer.
It had proved a more persuasive guide
than filial or fraternal love; and led him
to his home a changed—a liberated man.
All unconsciously Beauty and Genius in
Obscurity had brought light and joy to
high places clouded irt grief.
Karl had first seen Corinne in the office
of the publisher, who accepted her arti
cles to liis own profit more than hers.—
Struck by her peculiar beauty, lie had
sought all meaus to know her history,
watching her secretly in her regular visits
to the publisher, (the only visits she seem
ed to make,) and strengthening at every
sight of her the interest which had been
awakened in his heart.
He read her eloquent,appeals to the
wayward, the sinning, the uncharitable of
the earth, with wondering admiration and
delight. But just before iliat memorable
New Y'ear’s day, he had been touched to
the very soul by one of her womanly de
fences of the weak and erring, in which
she had declared she would sooner trust
die being whose leading passion was the
love of wine, than one whose spirit had
untruth for its foundation—who steeped
his words in sweet deceit, and smoothed
his brow with falsehood. There was no
hope where beautiful Truth was not per
mitted to be a guest; but tbe strong
draught did not always or speedily drown
the noble sentiments of the soul.
Karl felt that she was right—that not
withstanding liis years of weakness, the
heavenly whisperers were not all hushed
—that the refinement of his mind was not
t yet made gross by the companionship of
| those who spurned all moralities. There
i was hope for him ; and on the first morn
ing of that New Y'ear, he earnestly rcsolv
j ed to keep his lip from touching the glass
which might he offered him during his
• majiy calls. When evening came, his lip
was pure ofthe red stain ; and with a hope
ful heart lie sent his first* offering to the
gentle girl whose image had strengthened
Corinne was too holy in her loneliness
and trials for him to bring shame and sor
row to her, and Karl determined to make
her his own wedded wife, if he could win
her, after a trial of his vow* of temperance
for half a year.
He still remained unknown ; but the
solitary Italian constantly received some
earnest token that the one heart in the
gay outer world still beat warmly for her
—soon would pray for a gift coveted be
yond all things else. He must have inter
course with Iter, thus to keep his spirit
Tbe six months passed away, and tbe
“ unknown,” treasured so faithfully in faii
cy, had not long to wait for tbe devoted
girl’s declaration that she was indeed, in
her loneliness, “ all his own.” Her proud
spirit could not brook, however, the con
tempt or condescension she might expect
from the wealthy family she must enter, if
she wedded Karl; and it was not until the
loving Kate warmly claimed her as a sister*
and the parents of her lover blessed her
for the joy she bad brought their aching
hearts, that she was convinced her dower
of purity was more costly in their eyes
than lands or gold.
Corinne would wait until the anniver
sary of the day so memorable to her, be
fore she gave her hand to Karl, and so on
New Y'ear’s night she became a bride.
Her husband always blessed her, and turn
ed not away from the upward way she
had pointed out.
Oh ! let not the lowly and the gifted sor
row, that they act no part in the world’s
history ! Some pitying, softening word,
dropped on man’s heart, may melt it to
good deeds,giving new music to the spirit
of some loving one, and anew song to
LET US HOPE FOR BRIGHTER DAYS.
Let us hope for brighter days !
We have struggled long together,
Hoping that the summer’s rays
Might succeed the wintry weather :
Hoping till the summer came,
That to us seem’d winter still,
Summer—winter—all lhc6nmc !
To our hearts so cold and chill 1
Let usliope for brighter days !
Surely they must come at last,
As we see the solar rays,
When the storm has hurried past :
So as, ’mid the storm, we know
That the sunbeam will succeed,
Let us not our hope forego
In our darkest hour of need.
The following good story is told of an
‘ Court was in session, and amid the
multiplicity of business which crowded up
on him at term time, he stopped at the door
of a beautiful widow, on the sunny side of
thirty, who, by the way, had often bestow
ed melting glances upon the sheriff afore
said. He was admitted, and soon the
widow appeared. The confusion and de
light which the arrival of the visitor had
occasioned, set oft' to greater advantage
than usual the captivating charms of the
widow M. Her cheeks bore the beauti
ful blended tints of the apple blossom ; her
lips resembled rosebuds, upon which the
morning dew yet lingered ; her eyes were
like the quivers of Cupid, the glances of
love -and tenderness with which they were
filled resembling arrows that only wanted
a fine beau, (pardon the pun), to do full
After a few common-place remarks, —
* Madam,’ said the matter of fact sheriff',
‘ I have an attachment for you.’
A deeper blush than usual mantled the
cheeks of the fair widow—with downcast
eyes whose glances were centred upon her
beautiful feet, half concealed by the flow
ing drapery, gently patting the floor, she,
with equal candor, replied :
* Sir, the attachment is reciprocal.’
For some time the sheriff maintained an
astonished silence ; at last he said—
* Madam, will you proceed to court V
‘ Proceed to court ?’ replied the lady,
with a merry laugh ; then shaking her
beautiful head, she added :— ‘ No Sir !
though this is i.f.ap year I will not take
advantage of the iicense therein granted to'
my sex, and therefore greatly prefer that
you should * proceed to court!’ ’
‘ But, madam, tho Justice is waiting.’
‘ Let him wait; I am not disposed t«>
hurry matters in such an unbecoming man
ner ; and besides, sir, when the ceremony
is performed, 1 wish you to understand
that I prefer a minister to a justice of the
‘ Madam,’ said he, rising from his chair
with solemn dignity, ‘ there is a great mis
take here ; my language has been misun
derstood. Tbe attachment of which I
speak, was issued from the office of’Squire
C—; commands me to bring you instant
ly before him to answer a contempt of
court in disobeying a subpoena in the case
of Smith vs. Jones ! r ’
Light. —Castor Oil Beans are found
to make excellent candles, equal, it is
said, to sperm in every respect, and for
25 cents a pound, the chandlers and farm
ers ofthe West can manufacture any quan
tity of these castor oil candles. What