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THE flOTtfanßlto Will be published enery SATURDAY Morning, In the Brick Building, at the Comer of Cotton Jltenue and First Street, IS THE CITY OF MACON, OA. BY HARKISOY A: SKYERS. TERMS: For th« Paper, in advance, per annum, If not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00. (p* Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates —and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they wili be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly. Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favor able t'Tins. rj*S lieso Land hy As) ninislrators, Executors orlliirlims ,r ■ r-pirTi hy Law. to be h lion ti • irst r . -Slav !.»»■•■» dh. h Tween the hours ,ftei.»Vl,c; , , ti-F. iT-om in three in ih • Al tar) * >a. a ttaa C.» irt in ;e ot the count which th •IV >o Ttv IS *.t . »te Mot ice ..! these - ales .u.t be -v-, in . p.i die gWett sixty bays prev ous to the dav of sate rr Isle* eg Me ;ro -s hv A l -n <rstators. Ex cu •tors or ci nr I an, m ist .he it »»u die Aoclom on th-ft St l*'..sS l.tv nth- month. S-lw.-on th-l-ml .„ fl ,»f sV o.f.r- thiOiri Hons-.*-.f hecouotv w 1 -r-r I*L -tt.-rs run -ntarv.or \ I ninstralion ■r Ji i l< i ii'i i n»v h vs'i m 4r«nt#.l, first jiv j„, | ,f,rh-*reoffor sixty days.inoneotth • pu >• 'l.o,as of liis Slat-, and at th - door ol the O-i i't <1 i-iii vhero such s tie* are to he held. f7* V .fiee for the sale of Person and Prop-rtv must teifv ‘i in like nunur forty days previous to •the daV of sale. rIM >ti -etolh • Debtors ami Creditorso'an Es tate must he published for forty days v-> { ,t is that application will he ma le to the C mit of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne rryi ii ait >e p ihlished in a public gazette in this S.at ■ fir four m ixrus, before any order absolute can be given bv the Court. r'l r iriusA for Letters of A linin'strat Oi on an Hslate, grant ■ 1 hv the Court of Ord narv, must ii,. published thirty ii iys- for Ltt -rsof D.sinis sum from the at ninistr iliuu of an K-Uaie. monthly six months —fir Dismission from Guardian ship FORTY DAYS. ! 7*11.10. f.s for the foreclosure of a Aiortrate. must he puolished monthly for four months for establishing los Papers, for the full space of three months— for compelling Titles from L\- ec itors, Administrators or others, where a 11 md has been given by the deceased, the full space of THREE MONTHS. N. II All Business ofth's k : nl shall receiv prompt attention at the SOUTHERN dll SEL •Otfi-.e, an 1 strict care will he taken that all legal Advertisements are published accord ng to Law !Lj*AII Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must he post-paid, to in sure attention. / "3 9 o c t r s. THE RAINBOW. BY AMELIA. I sometimes have thought in my loneliest liours ) That lie on my heart like the dew on the flowers, Os a ramble 1 took one bright afternoon, When niy heart was as light as a blossom in June; The green earth was moist with the late fallen showers, The breeze fluttered down and blew open the flowers, While a single white cloud in its haven of rest, On the white wing of peace flouted ofi in the west. As I threw back iny tresses to catch the cool breeze, That scattered the rain drops and dimpled the seas, Far up the blue sky a fair rainbow unrolled Its soft-tinted pinions of purple and gold ; 'Tiyas born in a moment, yet, quick as its birth. It had stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth, And, fair as an angel, it floated all free, With a wing on the earth and a wing on the sea. How calm was the ocean ! how gentle its swell ! Like a woman s soft bosom it rose and it tell, While its light sparkling waves, stealing laugh ingly o er, When they saw the fair rainbow knelt down to the shore ; No sweet I yum ascended, no murmur of prayer, Yet I felt that tlio spirit of worship was tlieie. And bent niv v >ung head in devotion and love, 'Neath the form of the angel that floated above Hnw wide was the svvee - of its beautiful wings ! How boundless iis circle • liovv radiant its rings' Isl I onked mi the sky 'twas suspended ill air, Isl looked on the ocean the rainbow was then; Thus f •rilling a girdle us brilliant and whole As th-thoughts of the rainbow that circled my soul; Like the wing of the Deity calmly unfit I'd, li bant from the cloud and encircled the world. There are moments, I think, when the spirit re ceives Whole volumes of thought on its unwritten leaves, When the folds ofthe heart in a moinen uncles , Like the innumerable leaves fioin the heart of the rose ; And thus when the rainbow had passed lioni the sky, The thoughts it awoke were too deep to pass by; It left my full soul like the wing of the dove, All flu tering with pleasure, and flutte; ing vvitli love. I know that each moment of rapture or pain. Hut shortens the links in life's mystical chain ; I know that my form, like the bow of the wars, Must pass from the earth and lie cold in the grav«; Yet, o|i ; when dcatli s shadows my bosom uneloud, " hen 1 shrink from the thought of the coffin and shroud, May hope, like the rainbow, my spirit enfold In her beautiful pinions of purple and gold SPEAK KINDLY. Ofl unknowingly the toiiguo I ouches on a chord so aching, That a word or accent wrong 1 a ins the heart almost to breaking ; Many a tear of w ounded pride, Many a fault of human blindness, Has been soothed or turned asido By a quiet voice of kindness BY HARRISON & MYERS. THE DYING VOLUNTEER, An Incident of Mol In o del Rey. BY 11. G. (HUMAN. The sun had risen in all his glorious ma jesty, and hung above the eastern horizon like a hall of glowing fire, ts bright rays danced merrily along the Lake of leseneo; over the glittering domes of the city of Mexico ; past the dark frowning battle ments of Cbapultepec castle, and tit. in all their glorious effulgence, u on the blood stained field ol cletio del Key. The conies was over, 'he sounds o the battle had died away, save an occasional shot from the distant artillery of the cas tle. or the fire of some strolling ri emeu. I was standing beside the bitterer! re ! mains of the mill do r. above which the first to iting had been gained upon the wel ; contested wal , and azingover the plain, now saturated vvitli the blood of my fe low soldiers, which that morning had waved green with (1 ivving grass, when I Iteard a low and feeble wail, in the ditch beside me I turned towards the spot and be eld, with hi* right leg shattered by a can non ball, a voltigeur lying amid the man gled dead. He hud been passed hy in the haste of gathering tip the wounded under tits fire from the cast e.and the rays ofthe burning sun beat down vvitli terrible fervor I up n his wounded limb, causing heavy ginans to issue ft tn Itis pallid lips, and bis ; tn tilde countenance to writhe with pain. “ Water, fir God’s sake, a drill of wa ter,” he faintly articulated, as 1 bent and »vvu beside him Fortunately 1 had procured a carneett of water and placing it to his lips he took i long deep draught, and then sank back exhausted upon the ground. “ The sun,” he murmured ; “ It is kill ing me by its rays, cannot you carry me into the shade V “ I can procure assistance, and have you taken to the hospital ’ “ No, do it not, my sands of life are al most out. An hour hence l shall be a dead man. Carry tne into be sado of the mill, an 1 then, if you have time to spare, listen to my dying words; and if you are for tunate enough t ever return to the United St a'cs, hear me bick a message to my home, and to a noth—” h-paused, and mo tioned for me to carry him to the shade. I did so, and the cool wind which swept a long the spo , seemed to revive him and he continued : “ You, sir, are a 'ntal stranger to me, and from your uniform, being to an the corps, and yet l must confide this, the great secret of all my recent actions, and the cause of- my being here, to you. Would to God that had reflected upon the fatal steps Iliad taken, and 1 sit old ha e now been tit home, enjoying the so ciety of kind friends, instead of dying upon a gory field, in a foreign land. Aly father was a wealthy man in the town of G—ch, in the state of Virginia, and moved in the best seciety of the place. 1 had received an excellent education, had studi ed law, and was admitted iti the twenty fourth year of my age to practice at the har. I had early seen and admired a y ung lady of the place, a daughter of an intimate friend of my father's, and fortun ately be feeling was reciprocal, and we were engaged to be married. The war with Mexico had been in existence s me twelve months, and many were flocking to the standard of heir country, hso hap pened that abo t this time a recruiting of fice had been opened it; the town, and several of my young fiends had enlisted to go and ry their so tune; upon the plains of Mexico. One night there was a grand par y in lie place, in honor of those who were about to depart f r lie seat of war, and b th tnyse l and Eveline were tit the ball. Among those who were assembled that evening,- w is Augustus I’., a talented Young man, and ai coniplished scholar gay a:.d lively iti his m inuets, free and cheer ful in his disposi ion, and a universal fa vorite with the far sex. He had been for sometime paying his address to Eveline, as 1 deemed, in rather too poin ed tv man lier As the party assembled in the long | lud an ! the dance vvasab.un to commence. I asked iter for her hand for the first set.'' “ It is engaged ” she replied, I thought rather tardy. “ To w hom, if 1 may he so bold as to inquire ?” 1 demanded. •• To Augustus I’., ’ was the immedia e reply. ‘ smothered my rising indignnti nas best I could, and proudly returned the glance of malignant joy, my rival gave me. “ Perita s i tan engage it for the second set.” I calmly a-k -d. “ Mr. I’., Inis engaged it for the wdiole evening,' she pe ishly ephetl and riising and taking his hand, they took their sta tion upon the floor. *• I remained thunderstruck, and rooted todies of, until 1 saw the eye of my hated rival fixed upon me, and throwing off’ the spell that bound me, I as aimed a proud cold look, and passed nun the hall. As l swept by the dancers. Eveline amed a rnotnen when just beside me, and bend* ing cose to her ear, I whispered, * Eve line, farewell forever ” “ She tuned slightly pale, and then an swered, • When.’ “ To-night, 1 join the army for Mexico, ’ l firmly replied. A deep flush passed hastily across her brow, and then, waving her hand grac - lull , she re lied, * Go.’ and again glided hr ugh the mazes of the dance, ”1 rushed from the spot, and never paus- MACON, FEBRUARY 10. 1349. ed until I had entered the recruiting office and offered myself a candidates >r the army. ” Are you a good, moral man, fwe I regulated habits,'’ asked the setjennt. “ I can give a bund ed certificates, if necessary,” I has ily replied. “ I rather think you'll do,” said the offt cer with a smile, and lie enrolled me as a soldier. * When do you wish to leave?' “ Now, to-night— to-morrow, any time,” I eagerly answered. “ Promptness is a good quality, you'll make a fine soldier. Get ready to start at 8 o'clock in the mortiitig.for Newpott Kv.” “ 1 will be ready,” and rushing from the room, l hastened home, parked up my i things, ntid threw myeel down upon the ! bed to slee . But it was impossible. Heavy thoughts were crowding through my mind with ightning speed, and I re solved to depart the nex dty without bid-, ding a single soul farewell. I know you "ill deem it stftinge fir tne to hurrv off without bidding adieu to father or mother, sister r brother, hut feeling the de p re spect which held for my fuller’s advice, would prevail, and l should be indu e l to remain at home, 1 made the resolve, and carried it out The next morning l wa> at the office by seven o’clock was famish ed Yvitb a suit of regimentals, and depar ted tor the railroad depot, to start sot VVltee ing As l hurried along the street. | who should tun a corner but Eveline, and we met for the Pst time rut eaith. lin firmed ler of my intention, and withou rn iin fearing any disposition of regret at my <le ami re, she gai v said, *• Good bye, and may good luck attend you,” an I glided away. “ Anew fuel was added to my desire to hasten from uch scenes, and Is on left the town for the (Jin . I will not weary y>»u with fu ther details as my breath is failing fast. Sufficient to say, 1 arrived in Mexico, ami here I am perishing by inches upon the ba’tle field. “ Here,” he continued. ' is a ring '* fa king one from his finger, and presenting it to me, “ wli ch was given me by Eve line as a bond of our marriage contract. 1 have worn it ever since, and, as t gaily tol her I lieu, ‘it shall leave me but with mv death.' '! ake it to her when you get back, and fslie is unmarried,give it to her, and teil her he who sent it, never forgot her fora moment, even in his dying hour and is lying beneath the clods of a foreign soil. This Bible give back t my father, and tell him 1 have studied its precepts ; to my mo-her and sisters, say that l sent hem a son's and brother's dying love, to mv brothers, beware of human strife.’ He fullered in liis speech, and the mur muring “ 1 am going,” pressed my hand feebly, and expired. I dug alone grave upon the field, and laid him down to rest, and left him o “ sleep his last sleep,’ un til that day when’all shall be summoned to final account. -* One year rolled on, and how checked by passing events. Cbapultepec had fall en, the city of Mexico was taken, and peace, thrice glorious peace had waved her pinions over the laud of war The volunteers wete joyfully hasting home, and among the rest, 1 once more trod my native, land, a teemaii again in heart and soul. A spell of sickness at first c nfitied me several weeks, hut at length l r se wearied and feeble from the bed, and my physicians recommending a change of air, l travelled into Virginia, and one evening en ered the town G—ch. 1 enquired for the family of my friend, and was directed to a large fine-looking bui dittg upon the principal street. 1 advanced and rung the bell, and anxiously waited for htt answer. At length the door opened,and an old, gray headed man stood before me, the lines of his furrowed face marked by care, and his whole, appearance betoken ing one vvlio had a secret grief at heart. " Mr. , I presume ?” said 1 bowing, “ I'he same, sir; won’t you walk in ? * replied the old man politely. “I entered the house, and was soon seat ed in the pat lor, when the old man start ed t leave the ro m. ” l have something of importance for you pri ate ear,” said I hastily He turned towards me and taking the bihle mm my pocket, 1 held it up to view. Quicket than thought the father sprang t rward, caught the book in his band, and murmured as the tears fell slowly over his aged cheeks, *• M y son I you bring news of him.'* “ 1 do, but i is very bad.” I answeieil, my voice trembling as Is oke, and 1 rela ted to him the scene upon the battle field \\ hen i hail finished, the old man clasp ed liis bands in sil nt agony, and raising bis eyes towards the ceiling, exclaimed in (teepand fervent ones,'God's will be done.’ At this moment, a young ady of pale, atm careworn countetpnco entered die palor, and rising, I said, “ Miss Eve ine ———, l bel eve. “ '1 he same sir,” she calmly replied. I ptesenteil the ring, and as her eyes fell upon it. she sire cited forth her hand to grasp it, and barely did so; then sunk slowly back upon the floor. I sprang to her assis ance. but a- 1 raised Iter head from the carpet,streams of blood were fall ing from it, and mining o ei the floor Site lntd burst a blood vessel, and neve re covered He sleeps upon the hatt’e field heneatl the bloody soil, and she lies in the churcl yard grave of fhq town of G— b, wit the simple w id,’ “ Eve ine ” upon he tombstone. Peace rest with the dead.— Franklin in tiif. Sochl Circle.— Never hud 1 known such a fireside com panion as lie was both as a state-man and t philsopher; he never shone in a light n re winning than when he was seen in die and imcstic circle. It was nuce my good tortiine to pass tw i or three weeks with aim at the house of a gen letnait in Penn syl vania. and yy’c were confined to the house during the whole of that time bvtlie unre mitted constancy and depth of the sn yv. But confinement could not he felt where Dr. Fr nkliii was an inmate. His cheer fulness and his colloquial powers spread around him a perpetual spring. O Frank litt no one ever became tired There Yvas n ainbi t nos eloquence, no off >rt to shine in anything Yvhich came from him. There Yvas nothing Y\hich m-.de ativ demand, either upon your al egiance or your admir ation. His manner was just ns unaffected as infancy. It was nature’s spell. He talked like an Id patriarch, and hi* plain ness and sim licitv put your at rce at your e ise, and gave you full and free possession ami use of all your faculties. His thoughts were of a cha ncter to shine by their oyvh light, without :my ad veil iti us aid. Tney requi ed only a me iliutn of vision, like liis pure anti simple sly e, to exlitbit to the highest advantage their native radiance and beauty, liis cheerfulness yysis unrenmting. It scents to be as much the uiiinl as of its superior organization. IPs wit was oftlte first order. It did not show itstlf merely in occasional corruscation, but without any effort or force on his part, it shed a con slant stream of the pu-.esr light over the while of his discourses, Yvhethe in the company of commons or nobles, lie Yvas al ways most perfectly at his ease, his facul ties in full play, and the full orbit of Itis genius forever clear and unclouded. And then the stores of his mind tvere inexhaus tilde. He had commenced life with an attention so vigilant that nothing had escap ed his observation, and every incident was turned to advantage. His youth had not been wasted in idleness, nor ovetcasl by intemperance. He had been all his life a close and deep euder, as yvcll as thinker, and by the force of his own power h :d wrought up the mv m iteri ds Yvhich he had gathered from books Yvitli vuc i ex quisi e skill and felicity, that he had added an hundred fold to their origin il value, and ju tly made hem his oyvii.— Wirt. Exm yl'sti in op Tai.u. —How long the lamp of conversation holds out to bum be tween two persons only, is curiously set down in lie following passage from Count Gonfaiioiiet ’s account nt his imprisonment. “I am tin old man now; y t by fifteen years niy soul is v linger than lijV body ! Fifteen years I exis ed.for I did not li\e —it was not life - in the self same dun geou ten feet square. During six years I had a companion ; during nine I was alone! I never could l ightly distinguish the face of him who shared my captivity in the eternal twilight of our cell. The first ye r we talked incessantly together; vve related our past lives our joys forever gone, over and over again. The next we communicated to each other our thoughts and ideas on all subje ts. Tht third year vve had no ideas to communicate ; we were beginning to lose the power o reflection. The fourth, at the interval fa month or wo, vve would open our lips to ask each o her f it were indent! possible that the world went on as gay and hustling as when we formed a portion f mankind. Ihe fifdi we were silent. The sixth he was taken away, I ne er knew where, to exe cuti it or to libe ty; but 1 was glad when he vvgs g ne; even solitude was better than the thin vision of that pale vacant face. After that I was stone, only one event broke in upon my nine years’ va cancy. One day, it must have been a year r two a ter rm companion le t me, he dungeon door was opened, and a voice, whence proceeding 1 knew not, uttered these vv rds— * By order of his imperial maj -sty, I int'mate to you that your wife died a year ago ’ Then the door was shut, anil I heard no mo e; they had flung this great agony in upon me and lef me alone with it again ’ What is it to he Pul te !—Polite ness is a trail which every tie admires, tind which confers upon its ossessora charm that does much to pave he way of life with success Put i is very much misunderstood. Politeness does not con sist in wearing a silk glove, and in grace fully lifbng your ha l when you meet an ncquain mice it does not consist in arti ficial smile and flatlet ing speech hut in sincere and honest desires t<> ptomote the hap iness of hose around yu; in the teadiness to sacrifice your own ease and comfort to add t-. the enjoyment of othe s. I he man who lays aside ali selfishness in regard to the Happiness of others, wh - is ever ready to confer favors, who speaks in the language f kindness and conciliation, and who studies to manifest those little at tentions which grati y the heart, is a polite man, though he may wear a homespun coat, and make a very ungraceful b w. And many a fashionable, who dresses gen teelly, and enteis the Gantt crowded apart ments with assurance and ease, is a per fect compound f rudeness and incivility. He who lias a heart flowing with kindness itid good will towards his fellow men, and vho is g tided in the exercise of those eelings by go.xi common en;e, is the iruly polite man—-and he alwue. | VOLUME 1-NUMBER 11. Faith, Hope, y\d Cii.y jty.— Faith . What uncouute 1 consorts lie hidden ii lha one little word ! A shield for the un protected, strength for the feeble, and jov to the care-worn and grief stri ken. Let thy saving and cheering influence descend upon every s ml. Hope! —Thou hast a throne in every bosom, a shrin •in every beat t what were the joys of life without thy cheering light'? Beneath thy bril iant beams its the rays of the morning s ars, the frown Hi s away from the despairiifg hr vv. Who could dwell upon the arid deser of life did not thy tot ch gleams point the road to bliss? When sorrow plows up the heart with deep furrows, and the ties of life are sun dered one by one. Let the beacon blaze of celestial glory shine on its unclouded splendor till every darkened path be light ed by its cheer ng rays. < hart y ! Greatest of all—the crown ed queen among the virtues, the brightest handmaid of religion and 1.-ve. Mav 'll steps never wax feeble, or thy heart grow cold. Let tts mark the splendor of thy presence hy every desolate heart and nioutnet s couch Teach us t • throw thy mantle of compassion over the gtiorant, the e ring, and the guil y. Le thy influ ence sofeii every ohdtira e heart and re c a.in every vicious mind. Pcrit ym M. Curly e, in his singular wo'k on " Heroes, ’ pp. i29, 129, has the following quaint and striking passage, Give a tiling time; if it can succeed, it is a right thing. Look now at American S tXntulom; and at that little Fact of the sailing of the Mayflower, two hundred years ago, from Deist Haven, in Holland ! Wete vve of open sense as the Greeks wete, we had found a poem here; one of nature’s own poems, such as she vvri es in broad facts over great continents. For it was properly the beginning of America : there wete straggling sett ets in America before, some material as •fa body there, but he soul of it was fi st this.—Hah ! These men, 1 think, had a work The thing, weaker than tt child, becomes strong one day, if it be a true thing. Puritanism was only despicaple, laughable llteii; but nobody can manage to laugh at it now Puritanism has got weapons and sinews; it has got cunning in its ten fingers, strength in its tight arm ; it lias fire-arms; war navies ; it can steer ships, fell f rests, remove mountains; —it is one of the strongest things under this sun at ptesent. Last Words ok Blum. —The following is acopy of the letter written by the un fortunate Robert Blum, to his wife, an holt' before his execution ; - My dear good Wife, Farewell, fare well for the time men call eternity but wh ch will not be so. Bring up ou —now only your—children to be honest men; so they will never disgrace their father's name. Sell our little property with the aiil of our friends. God and all good men will help you also. All I feel ami would say at this moment escapes me in tears ; only once more, then, farewell, my dear est. Consider our children a treasure of which you must make the best uso and honor thus the memory of your faithful husband. Farewell, farevvel ; receive the last kisses of vour Robert. Vienna, Nov., IS4S, at 5 o’clock in the morning; at 6 aii will be over. P. ri —1 It id forgotten the rings ; tut that of our betrothal I press for you a las kiss; my seal ring is for Hans, the watch for b'i hard, the diamond stud for Ida, the ch lin for Allred, as mem ri als. All the rest divide as you please. They are coming; farewell.” t r\in ng Children.— The instruction of your children cannot commence too early. Every mother is capable of teach ing her children obedience, humility,clean liness and propriety of deportment, and it is a deliglt ful circumstance th t the first instruction should thus he communicated by so gett lea teacher It is by combin ing affectionate gentleness in granting what is right, with judicious firmness in refusing ivhat is impropn, that the happi ness of children is promoted, and that good and orderly habits ate established. If children are early trained to docile and obedient, the future task of guiding them aright Yvill be comparatively easy.— Nick oils. Advantage of Habit. — Bulwer work ed his way to eminence, worked it through failure, through ridicule. His facility is only the result of practice and study. Me wrote at first slowly ami wiili great diffi cul y. hut he resolved o master the stub born instrument of thought ; and he mas tered it l.e has practiced writing as an art, and has re-written some of his essays (unpublished) nine or ten times over. An other habit will s iovv the advantage of con tinuous application. He only works about three hours a day - from ten in the morn ing till one—seld m later. The evenings, when alone, are devoted to reading, scarcely ever to writing. Yet what an a mouut of good hard labor has resulted from these hours ! He writes very rapid ly averaging twenty pages a day of novel print.— Bentley's M>sc llaiy. tcy~ Louis Napoleon wrote the follow ing lines in an album, a few days before his elec ion “When revolution moves in the path oftruth.it produce- great men an t great deeds ; when i is in the path o error, L j reduces only uproar and tears.” BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, IVi l be t x -.u ed in the most approved side, and on the best terms, at the Office of the “SOUTHERN MUSEUM” -BY—. HARRISON & MYERS. A Poor Scholar —Otto of our sorao 'Y’lia' famed scientific and literary men of B st >n was recently called upon by a very steady looking man, a broken down speci men < f gentility, whose outward show, in deed, gave strong indication of poetic and an boric destiny. After greeting Profes sor 8., the shabby geuiteman went tn state he was in great destitution, and heat it g tlia the Professor was n f ietid to t lie cause of educatiion Arc., had called upon him, as a poor scholar for elief. “ Poor scholar? Ah! walk in, sir ; walk into the library, I atn a friend to literature, and shall be proud to assist the struggling effort of the poor sholar, always.” Reaching the library, the Professor p pened with a Latin display of his profi ciency in letters, but finding thnt the al nut seeker seemed not to comprehend the drift of it, asked him in considerable irritation ; “ Wh . , sir, don’t you understand the classics !” " Class ics ? ' replied the fellow, “ Lord bless you, sir, what be they V’ “ Heavens !” ejaculated the nowcewcrZ Professor; did you not say that you wero a poor S' ho!a /” “ Yes, sir, so 1 bo n mighty poor schol ar ; 'taint niy fault th ugh, sir, tcein liter, r had any sch tJin /” Slipping a few shillings into the poor scholar's iis, the Professor told him to side Parental TcAciitNC.—lfparen s wouhl not trust a child upon the hack of a wild horse with ut bit or bridle, let them not permit him to gc forth into the world un skilled in self-gove timeiit. if a child is passionate, teach him by gentle and pa tient means, to curb bis tem cr If lie is greedy, cultivate liberality in him. It he is selfish, promote generosity. If he is sulky, charm him out of it. by encourag ing frank good limn r. If he is indolent, ficcus nit) him To exertion, am! train h m ao as t perform even onerous dutie i with a aerify. If pride comes in to make his obedience reluctant, subdue him either by ctiuu-el or discipline. In short, give yottr children he habit of overcoming their be setting sins. Let them acquire from e.x. | periettce that confidence in them elves I which gives security t the practiced horse- I man, even on the back of u liigh spiti ed steed, and they will triumph over the dif ficul iea and dangers which beset them in the path of life. j A Vouches.— A man once wentfopur chase tt horse of a Quaker. “ id he draw well ?" asked the buyer. “Thee will be pleased to see him draw,” said Nehemiah. x The bargain was closed, and the f r mer tried his horse, but he vvi u and not stir, lie re timed. “ That horse will not draw an inch ?* ‘ I did no tell thee he would draw, friend,’ said the Quaker, “ 1 only remark ed thntthee would he pleased to see him draw ; and soalmuld I, but he would never gratify me iti that respect.” Discipline. —The school-room is tho place where the disposition is in a great degree moulded. All possible care should therefore he taken, rt t to retide it sullen and morose. While every pupil should be taught to fee! hat her teacher’s word is her law while in school, yet that law should always he so administered as to make tho scltool-r.) m a place of agreeable resort. While discipline is strict, it should a w ays be mild. Severity and harshness on the part of teachers have often I een the <• use of ruining whit w- uld • therwise have been gentle and amiable disposition*. There is nothing, according to my opinion, whic h speaks mo e high I fora school, than to see every pupil ready to greet her teach ers vvi h a pleasant, though respect fi. I smile, w henever she meets them. If the pupils of a school manifest a high degree of res ect, and even attachment for their instructors, so far from being a proof of any w’ant of strictness, it is on the other, hand, one of the strotige.-t proofs of firm and steady Discipline. For experience lias long since shown, that where there is least control exercised, there is least re spect felt toward both the teacher and pa rent. Irresolution. — In met ersofgreat con cern, and which must be done, there is no surer argument of a weak mind than irres olution ; to he undetermined where the case is so plain and the necessity so urgent; to be always intending to lead anew life, but never find time to set about it; this is as if a man should put off eating, and drink ing and sleeping, from one day and night to another, till he is starved and destroyed. TiUobson. Vei.ouitv of Cannon Shot. —From an extended reries of experiments made at the Washington Arsenal with the ballistic pendulum, by Captain Mordecai. of the Ordnance Department, it has been deter mined that the velocity of a thirty-two pound shot varies from twelve to nineteen hundred feet per second, or nearly tweuty miles per minute. SC7“ Their is no virtue that adds so no ble a charm to the finest traits of beau y as that which exerts itsse f in watching over the tranquility of an aged parent. Tbero a e no tears which give so trhbb- a lustre to tho cheek *if ituoteuce, as the ,ea. a of fi.iul sorrow.