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VOL. I. m . THE 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. TERMS: I 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- Siocs must be published in a public gazette in this 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 be published thirty days— for Lettersof Dismis sion from the a (ministration ofan Estate, monthly for six months —for Dismission from Guardian ship forty days. ■ rj-it-' f.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage, 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 three months. [ 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 ~, STANZAS. 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. 11. 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. BEAUTY. 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 memory !” 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 heavenly mercy. 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 “congratulations.” 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 feast. 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 ! All ? 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 life. 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 hour. 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 lover’s. 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 opened with. 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 hours. “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 poverty ? 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 folly. 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 cheek lovingly. 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 of. 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 him. 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 strong. 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 angels. 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. Good Story. The following good story is told of an Alabama Sheriff: ‘ 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 execution! 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 peace.’ ‘ 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 next ? NO. G.