Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

THE trill *e published evert/ SATURDAY Morning , In the Brick Buildings at the Corner of Cotton Avenue and First Street , I* THE CITY or MACON, OA. U Y IIAKBISO* Ot MI’EBS. ~~ ~~~ TERMS: For the Paper, in advance, per annum, $9. If not paid in advance, $2 00, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00. (TJ* Advertisements will be inserted at the usual ratos an d when the number of insertions de sired is not speeified, they wili be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly. rpp Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. Tj*Salesof Land by Administrators, Executors 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 ternoon, at the Court House of the countv in which the Property is situate. Notice of these Sales must be given in a public gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale O’Sales of Negroes by Administators. Execu tor* or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on, tbe first Tuesdav in the month, between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration or Guardianship inav hove been granted, first giv ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub lic gazettes of this rbate, and at the door of the Court House where such sales are to be held. (□•Notice fortheeileof Personal Property must 'begiven in like manner forty days previous to the day of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors ofan Es tate must be published for forty days 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 S,at r for four months, before any order absolute can be given by the Court. q j'CfTATIONSfor Letters of Administrat on on. an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must | be published thirty days for Letters of Dismis | sinnfrom the administratinnofan Estate.monthly I for six monihs —for Dismission from Guardian -1 ship forty days. »rj > RuLFS for the foreclosure of a Mortgage must be puntished 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 hy the deceased, the full space ot THREE MONTHS. N. 11. All Business of this kind shall recciv prompt attention at *h" SOUTHERN MUSEUM Office, and strict care will he taken that all legal 1 Advertisements are published according to Law, □*AII Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, mu*t be. post-paid, to in sure atention. oct r S _____ SONG’S OP THE LSVERS. BY R. E. H LEVERING. An unseen minstrel, ns the twilight hour Suhlimelv glimmers through each fairy haunt and bow r, Is sadly tuning his melodious song, As hills and vales the mel’iiig tones prolong, As if e’en echo would his suit convey To her who watches too the ev’tiing ray, And, like her lover, harps the meaning strain, Responsive o’er the separating main : The Minstrel's Song. I sing the song of other days Bright shining through the past, Replete with life's suhlimest joys, Too richly sweet to last'. I sing the song of happier hours, bwift-wingert by Love’s own hand, — Too fleet to linger in the liow’rs Os none but Eden land ! I sing the song of purest love, Os kindred soui to soui,— Tint pure without a foe to prove, Too proud for man's control. t I sing the song of bliss and woe, L The April ofthe heart, . The bliss to meet with purpose true, The woe fure’er to part! I sing the song which winds convey, But alt! convey in vain,— So fragile is the minstrel's lay, So wide the envious main ! A diff’rent song nrosefrnm different land, As sank the Ladv with her harp in hand, — Hope flashed her ye, and joy suffused her heart, As if this life hud lost its gloomiest part, As if some hov'ring spirit linger’d there To banish Love's own gloom and bless its pray’r, While stars shone out from azure Heaven above, Bright harbingers of most successful love, Still whisp'rii'g bliss as l« inkles down their ray. To tell, like Hope, they glittered on their way, The glorious heralds of a belter day : The Lady's • oug. Away the song whose ev’ry tone But told of dark’ning days,— I "Os doubt and fear forever gone, Like mist at morning rays ! * Away the song that told the heart Os answ’ring sighs of pain,— That mourned (lie Fate that bade us part, Bui sadly mourned in vain ! Away the song that to the eve Poured forth its melody No more its strains shall wildly grieve Across the raging sea ! Away the song, another swells Along a distant shore, for Hope flies sea-ward as she tells W e meet to part no more ! A BEAUTY. Twas in the ball-room’s mazy round A. beauteous form we saw, T ,le sweetness of her countenance Around did many draw. She .-poke in silvery accents low And with a Syren’s tongue I heard her whisper to a friend— “J’sl, go jt while you’re young!” THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM. BY HARRISON & MYERS. From Scott's Philadelphia Dollar H\ekly Paper. THE “CHEAT MYSTERIES • OF THE fcons of Temperance Found Out. BY S. E. SITES. “ I’ve jest found it all eout bout you Sous of Temperance, ’exclaimed old Mrs. Credulous in an ecstacy of ill concealed de ight. “Y ou Sotiies can’t cheat me, I’m ’little tew cuunen for you. No use for you to ell me ’Lout your Love for your Brethren and all that soat of stuff, and nut on y ur mysterious airs and keep your tongues under lock and all that. I’ve found it al eout. 1 know the hull on’t, fmm heginnin’ to end.” And she looked »ery knowingly as she to sed her bead proudly. Her eyes sparkling ike coals of fire. The old lady had just returned from a tea pa ty given by Mrs. Jones; where a young man, not a member of the Order, but who affected to be one, and well acquainted wi h ail the “ mysteries of the tinier, 1 * and every thing appertain ing to it, quietly fallen in with the whimsies objections the dear old crea ure had wisel made against the Sons of Tem perance, and to fix them in their opinions, and sup rstitious conjectures, had amused himself hy favoring them with a pretended deve opment of the secrets of the Order, ami a full description of the ceremonies of initiation. Her sou-in-law, to whom she made the triurap ant exclamation above quoted, was a member of the Order, who had long ago ceased from what he saw a vain attempt to eradicate the good old latjy’s objections, and now stifle ed tier to enjoy her pillions to her heart’s content. But on this occa sion her triumphant and emphatic man ner, excited his curiosity, and he quietly asked her to explain herself. “ Oh ! Johnny, ’ said she, “ you wou dn’t ax me to ’splain myself es you know’d what 1 could tell you, es 1 was a mine tew. Bui l won’t gra tfy you so much, that 1 won’t” “ Well!” said Johnny, as he took up his hat, and stepped towards the door. ' “ You remember that no persuasion was p werful enough to induce Jack to eat his supper on a particular occasion, don’t you ! ’ “ What do you mean ?" cried J- lmtiy. This raised the ire of the old lady, and she declared she w uld tell it now “jest out of spite.” She was dying all the while to make her revelation, hut hoped Johnny would coax her to unf Id the tale. “ Well,” said Johnny, “I’m all atten tion ” “ In the first place,” began the old lady, “ the feller that’s to bq took_ in, has got to go with a passel of felle s in a dark room, and when hey git him there, they 1 ck him up in a big iron chest, with a hole in one end for him to breathe through. And there lie’s kept three hours, then he’s snaked eout of that and rubbed all over with soft soap, arid down a big holler pipe till he hollers like a loon. Then he’s ta ken out and tied up in a sack, and a pas sel ot them heathenish fellers carry him into the room where hey hold their meei in’s. Then the lights is all put eou , and when the room’s as dark as Egypt he’s ta ken eout of the sack and put in a coffin. The lit! is screwed down, and he s lugged round he room nigh about half an hour.” “ H w does he breathe, mother?” “ \ evv needn’t make so strange ’bout them holes bored in the top on’t; abeout hall an hour, as 1 wassayiu’ and hen the coffin is sot up on eeud.aud a dead march is sung, and lie’s axed in tin awful solemn voice, that sounds jest for all the world like a ghost, es he’s willin’to proceed. Es he’s says he is, then the lid is unscrew’d, and he finds liiinse i slandin' with six sharp pynted sword held close tew his breast and neck by fellers dressed like evil spir its. Oh! massy on us! its enough to make a body’s blood tun c.dd tew think on’t. And he’s told es he ever tells a word abeout tbe secrets of the Order, he 11 be made away with jest as sartiu’ as the death.” “ D you believe they would murder him if he should tell, mother T “ To bcs/iure 1 do, I know they would.” “ How did Tom Smith escape to tell y u this ! ’ •’Poor creature!” exclaimed the good old lady. “ I’m the fust one he ever told, and l 'sped ev’ry niit.it t ■ hear that he's missin’. But don’t enturrupt me so—yew lul me out. \Y aI, he promises faithfully l’m blessed if 1 don’t b’lieve he darsent for his life do any other way lian promise that he’ll never tell no livin’ creetur. Then he’s told es he duz that his tounge ’ll be chopped off, utiu his mouth sew and up, his eyes put eout, and his hands tied be hind him, and iu that distressed condition he’ll be put in a coffin and hurried alive in less than no time. “ Wall, the miserable crit er is then let eout of the coffin and walked abeout the room on his hands and knees, and ordered to thank them heathanish fellers for pin chin’, kickin’, and j uncliin’him, pullin’ his hair, ringin’his nose, and treadin’on his corns. You needn’t lass. It’s all true as the Gospell an you know it. It’s shame fu to treat human naturtha . way, and not to be latted a nullier " Then he’s ordered tew set on a plank covered al! over with burgundy pitch, anti made tew smoke opium, and sneezin stiufl till lie’s nigh about haifded, and then they give him the g ip and—” ” Why mother, hey have no grip.’* "No use for you tew try lew deceive me, 1 know the hull on’t from top to bottom." MACON, FEBRUARY 24, 1849. “ Well then, what it the grip, mother?” “ Why, one on ’em grabs him by the neck, and be grabs 'totlier, and then they give each other an all chokin’ squeeze. Then they wltis. er the secret word iu his lef ear.” “ What’s the word, mother 1” “ Bellymashazzar, to be sbure; you know as well as I do. You needn’t to lass agin. 'Twont do. Then they give' him the sign - that great secret sign you make so much fuss about.” “ How’s that made," cried Johnny, half convulsed with laughter, at the form of in itiati n. “ This way,” promptly replied the old lady. “By shit tin’ your left eye, and ta kin’ the eeud of your nose in* your right hand. “ Wall, then he’s marched up and down the room dressed in a red gown and In k in’ for all the world like a witch, and after he’s taken an oath, awful enuff to make one’s hair stand on an eend every which way, he’s told t take a seat among the rest of ’em, and welcomed as a Son of Temperace. " There you see I know the hull on’t, and I’ll tell everybody. 1 won t do noth in’else; for I think —as I alters said, it is a heathanish, barharyous mummery, that makes heathens and infidels of Christian men, and shut! erter be put down tew smash. How d’ye feel now, Johnny, you begin to find tbe old wooman's ’bout right, don’t you, ’ triumphantly exclaimed the old lady, as she took an enormous pinch of snuff', drew herspectacles over her eyes and turned towards her son-in-law. Johnny was in a convulsion oflaughter. hut contrived to gasp his conviction that the Order was all blown to pieces. Mrs. Credulous belie' es to this day, that all this mad wag Smith told her is true o ala ter. Nor is she alone in her s range belief. There are thousands like Mrs. Credulous, everywhere, whose prejudices are nursed and ke, t alive with nameless surmises, terrible suspicions, and outland ish stories relative to the character and “ secrets” of the Older, not a whit less ri diculous, and as ar removed from the truth as the veracious developement made by this good old lady. Ambition. —Noambitinus man was ever a domestic one. Imperceptibly the for mer dries up the less vehement feelings. Let him flatter himself in youth, as lie may that he is capable of uniting them to gether, of blending opposite principles of action, he cannot, will not doit. He must give himself wholly to the pursuit of am bition—forget all else. I is the bane of domestic happiness. 'I here is not, cannot he continual excitement r und the domes tic hearth. The light that shines there, is a pure hut steady one. Virtues flourish peaceably. Year after year fresh flowers are added to the parterre blue eves and sunny brows reflect the images of our fathers and mothers ; sweet voices mingle in harmonious concert; lisping words break the silence. The mother is among them, and gentle counsel fl ws in streams of love around. And this pic ure, from day to day repeated, is too quiet for the ambitious man. It is beautiful, but still. 1 he sight that would kindle the man of more conteti ed dis.'< sit ion into gratitude and love to God, f Us coldly upon the heart of the busy seeker after power. He looks, he smiles; sometimes a struggling ray of affection calls him among them. But it is over in a moment. There are things to he done ; work to be done. He must not be fount! at home idle. Thus, though at first he may find a certain de gree of happiness in the consciousness of loving an i being loved, the ambitious man may rest assured such happiness cannot last. He must choose between domes ic joy and the pursuit of his favorite passion. One or the other must be given up He sh uld be satisfied with what yieids him such unmixed delight, and should pass singly th otigh the world, divested of all ties. To live from day to day, in the dis contented and unceasing pu suit of a dis taut tempting pr sped, is incompatible with homo happiness. Those who un derstand least the pernicious influence of the passion, laud it most earnestly. The Dandy an« His Turkey.— Chief Justice Marshall was in the habit of going to market liimsel, and ca tying home his purchases. Frequently he would be seen at sunrise, w th poultry in one hand and vegetables in the other. On one of these occasions, a fas' ionable young man from the North, who had removed to Richmond, Y T a. was swearing violent y because he could find no tine to carry home his tur key. Marshall stepped up and asked him where he lived, and said, on being told : “ That is my way, and I will take it for you.” When he came to the house, he young man inquired: “ What shall 1 pay you ?” “ Ob, nothing, said the Chief Jus tice, it was on my way, and no trouble.” “ Who was that polite old man that brought home my turkey ?’’ inquired the young man of a bystander. “ That, ’ re plied lie, “ is John Marsha 1, Chief Jus tice of the IJ. S.” “ Why did lie bring home my turkey ?” asked lie. “To give you a severe reprimand, and teach you to attend to your own business,” was the re ply. True, genuine grea ness never feels above doing anything that is useful ; hut especially the truly great man will never feel above helping himself. THE LITTU HATCH-GIRL. BY THE DANISH FONT, ANDERSEN. It was so terribly cold—it snowed, and the evening began to be dark ; it was. also, the last evening in the year—New Year Eve. On his cold, dark evening, a poor little girl went into tbe street with bare head and naked feet. It is true she had shoes on when she went from home, but of whHt use were they ? They were very large shoes; her mother had worn them last; they were too large, and the lit le one lost them in hurrying over the street as two carriages passed quickly by. One shoe was not to lie found, and the other a boy ranaway with, saying he cou and use it for a cradle when he had children him self. The little girl now went on her sma 1 naked feet, which were red and blue with «4d. She carried a numlter of matches iu an old apron, and held one bundle in her hand. Novnehad bought of her the whole day. no one had given her a farth ing. Poor thing! She was hungry and benumbed with cold, and looked so down cast. The snow-flakes fell on her yell w hair, which cu led so prettily around her neck, but she did not heed that. The light sh ne out from al' the win dows, and there was such a delicious smell of roast beef in the street —it was a New Year Eve, and she thought of that. She sat down in a corner between two houses, the one stood a litte more forward in the street than the other, and drew up her legs under her to warm herself; but she was still colder, and she durst not go home; she had not sold any matches, nor got a single farthing. Her father w< uld heat her, and it was also cold at home; they had only the toof directly over them and there the wind whistled in, although straw and rags were stuffed in the largest crevi- ! Ces. Her little hands were almost benumbed J with raid Ah ! - »-L —:~u. j_ win* lUiu. jxii i a, mite; iijigui utt some good: durst she only draw one out of the bundle, strike it on the wall, and warm her fingers. >he drew one out—rich!— how it burnt ! It was a warm, clear flame, like that of a little candle, when she held her hand around it; it was a s rangclight / The little girl thought she sat by a large iron stove, with brass balls on the top, the fire burned so nicely and warmed so well. Nay, xvliat was that? The little girl stretched out her feet to warm them, too. When the flame went out, the stove van ished, and she sat with a stump of the burnt match in her hand. Another was struck ; it burnt, it shone ; and where the light fell on the wall, it became as trans parent as crape. She looked directly in to theroom where the roasied goose, stuff ed with apples and prunes, steamed so charmingly on the table which was luid out and covered with a shining white cloth, and fine porcelain service. What "as still mo e splended, the goose sp ung • >ff the dish, and waddled along the floor with knife and fork in its back ; it came directl. up to the poor girl. Here the match went out. and there was only the thick, cold wall to be seen. She struck another match. Then she sat under 'he most charming Christmas tree—it was still larger and more orna mental than that she had seen hrough the glass door at the rich merchant’s, the last Chris mas ; a thousand candles burn ed on the green branches, and motley picture, like those which ornament the shop windows, looked down at her. The li tie girl lifted up both her hands—then the match whs extinguished—the many Christmas candles rose higher and higher; she saw hat they were bright stars—one of them fell and made a fiery stripe in the sky. “ Now ine dies, said the poor girl; for old grandmother, who alone had been kind to her, but who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul goes up to God ! She again struck a match against tbe wall; i shone all around, and her old grandmother stood in the lusti e, so shining, so mild and blissful. ** Gratidm ther,” ex claimed tbe little girl. “ oh ! take me with you! 1 know you will be gone away when the matches go out—like ha warm s ove, the delicious roas g use, and the delight ful Christmas tree ’—and she struck in haste the whole remainder of matches that was in the bundle -she would not 1 se sight of grandtno her. and the matches shone with such brillancy, that it was clear er than in broad day-light. Grandmother had never before looked so pretty, so great; she lifted the poor li tie girl up in her arms, and they flew so high, in splendor and joy; there was no cold, no hunger, n • anxiety.— hey were with God ! Bu the little girl sat iu the corner, by the house, in the cold morning hour, with red cheeks, and with a smile round her mouth—dead—frozen to death, the last evening of the old year. New Year morning rose over the little corpse, as it sal with the matches, of which a bundle was burnt. “ She had heen try ing to warm herself,” said they. But no one knew what beautiful things she had seen—in what splendor and gladness she had entered with her old grandmother in to New Year's joys. Asinine Juno A young lawyer hav ing been asked by a judge whether in the transmigration of souls he would prefer being turned into ahorse or an ass ?” “ An ass,” quickly replied the lawyer. *• Why ?” says the judge. “ Because I have heard of an aas being a judge, but never a horse.” VOLUME 1-NUMBER 13. THE DEATH OP THE DOMIXIK. BY THOMAS HOOD. “ Take him up,” says the master. [Uld Spelling Book. My old schoolmaster is dead. He “di ed of a stroke and wonder none of his pupils ever done tbe same. I have been flogged by many masteis, butjiis rod,like Aaron’s swallowed op all the rest. We have often wished that he whipped on the principle of Italian penmanship—up strokes heavy, downlstrokes light; but be did it in English round, and we used to think with a very hard pen Such was his love of flogging, that for some failure in English composition, after having been well corrected, I have been ordered to be revised 1 have heard of a road to learn ing, and he did justice to it; we certain ly never went a stage in education, with out being well horsed. The mantle • f Hr. Bushy descended on his shoulders and on ours. I here Was hut one tree on the play ground—a birch, but it never had a twig or a leaf upon it. Spring or sum mer, it always looked bare as if the weath er had been cutting at the latter end of the year. Pictures, they say, are good incentives to learning, and certainly, we never got through a page without cuts ; for instance, I do not recollect a La in ar ticle without a tail piece —All the Latin at that school might be comprised in one lino— i “ Arma-virumque cano." An arm, a man, and a cane. It was Eng lished to me one day in school hours, when 1 was studying Robinson Crusoe instead of Virgil by a storm of bamb o that real ly carried on the illusion, and made me think for a time that I was assaulted by a set of savages. He seemed to consider a boy a bear’s cub, and set himself literally to lick him into shape. ; He was so particularly fond of striking u* with a leather strap un the nuts of out hands that be never allowed .hem a day’s rest. There was no such thing as Palm Sunday in our Calendar. In one word, he was ui tinterestedly cruel, utid used a6 industriously to strike for nothing, as oth- I ers strike for wages. Some of the elder ! boys who had read Smollett, christened him Roderick, from his hitting like Ran dom, and being so partial to Strap. His death «as characteristic. After making his will he sent for Mr. Taddy, the head usher, and addressed him in the fol lowing words:— ‘lt is all over Mr. Tad dy—l am sinking fast—l am going from the terrestial globe—to the celestial—and have pr mised Tompkins a flogging— mind has it, and don’t let him pick off’ the buds—l have asked Aristotle,” —( here his head wandered,) “ and he says, I can not live an hour 1 don t like that black horse grinning at me—cane him soundly for not knowing his verbs—Oan ego to, non qnod odio habeam—O, Mr. Taddy, it’s breaking up with me—the vacation’s com ing—there is tha black horse again— l)ul cir moren’s reminicisitur—we are short of of canes—Mr Taddy, don’t let lie school get into disorder when lam gone—l am afraid through my illness—the boys have j gone back iu their flogging—l feel a I strange feeling all over me—is the new pupil come ? I trust l have done my du ty—and have made my will—and have left all,” (here his head wandered again) — “ to Mr. Soutcr, school bookseller—Mr. J Taddy, I invite you to my funeral—make the boys walk in good order—and take t care of the crossings. VVri eto Mrs. B. at Margate—and inform her—we break j up on the 21st. The door is left open— lam very cold— where is my ruler gone 1 feel—John, light the school larnj s*—l cannot see aline—O, Mr. Taddy—venit hora- my hour is come—l am dying— thou art dying—he—is dying. We—arc —-dying-you are dy—. ’ The voice ceas- 1 ed.— He made a feeble motion with his hands as if in the act of ruling a copy book—the ruling passion in death,”—and expiried. An epitaph, composed hy himself, was discovered in his dusk—with an unpub lished pamphlet against Tom Paine. The epitaph was so stuffed with quotations from Homer ami Virgil, and almost every Greek and Latin author beside, that the mason who was consulted by the widow declined to lithograph it under a hundred pounds.—The Dominie consequently re poses under no more Latin than Hie Ja cet; and without a single particle of Greek, though he is himself a Long Ho mer. A Valuable and Rare Recipe. —We commend ihe following receipe to house kee, ers : To make potatoes very mealy, take and wash them well just before you wish to use them, .and then, without dry ing or wiping, put them in— an old meal bag. A Complication of Disorders.— “ What did die of?” asked a simple neigh bor. “Os a complication of disorders,” replied hisfriend. “ How do you describe this comp ication ?” “He died,” ansvvei ed the other, “ of two physicians, an apo thecary, and a surgeon !” Extremely Polite. —There is a man in tliiscity extremely punctilious. Oneday liemeta ady acquaintance in the street and nodded. Remembering afterwards that he hadn't touched his hat, lie retraced his steps, overtook the lady after a chase of several squares, and performed that es sential ceremony.— Cm. Com/rtcrnal. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, Will be executed inthe most approved style, and oh the best terms,'at the Office of the “SOUTHERN MUSEUM/’ -BY— HARRISON & MYERS. Now I lay me down to Sleet— There are probably no feur lines in the English language that are repeated so many times daily as the following •» Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; If I before I wake, I pray the Lord my aoul to teke.”>' And it is not only children ana youth that repeat them. .Many whose heads are “ silvered over with age” have beon ac* j customed to repeat them as their last pray er beforo closing theft eyes in sleep, eve ry night since they Were taught them in infancy.—The late ex-President of the | United States, John Quincy Adams, was among that number. A Bishop of tbe ; Methodist Church, in addressing a Sab bath School, told the children that be had been accustomed to say that little prayer every nighi since his mother taught it to him when he was a little boy. In conversing recently with a shipmas ter, ove. seventy years of age, and who has been for many years a deacon in the Chuch, he said that when he followed the seas, and even before he indulged a hop© that be was a Christian, he never lay down in his berth at night without saying with great seriousness, and he thought sinceri ty. “ Now I lay me down to sleep.” He felt so strongly his need of religion, and his danger without it, that he used al ways to read his Bible, and place that pre cious book under Iris pillow at night, and often to kiss the sacred volume, trusting, no doubt, in this reverence for tbe word of God, instead of trusting alone in tbe Saviour. Let reader learn, and every night repeat that little prayer— “ Now I lay mo down to sleep,” dbe. QcaßEr Anecdote. —There is a good StOl*y tolu O** u jliirintr tjiA last war with England, owned a vessel, in which he had taken passage for home, having been to a feriegn port on business. On the passage the vessel was overhauled by a privateer. The friend was of course anxious to save his property, and at the same time desirous of avoiding a partici pation in fighting. He said to the cap tain. *• I do not approve of fighting; but the© must get the vessel to port safely.” He then wont below. The enemy ra pidly approached, and having fired a few times, came near with the intention of boarding.— As she got along side, our Quaker friend came upon deck with a hatchet in his hand. One of the enemy had seized a rope which happened to be hanging over the side of the vessel, and was climbing upon deck. Approaching him, the Quaker said : “ Friend if thee wants that piece of rope thee i 1” And suiting the action to the word, he cut off the rope, and down went the poor fellow into the ocean. It is needlens'to add, that the privateer hauled off, and her in ended prize arrived safely, at its port. Tiie Eldest Daughter.— The deport ment of the eldest children of the family is of great imp nance te the younger. Their obedience or insubordination operates throughout the whole circle. Especially is the situation of the eldest daughter one of cmir.cr.cc. She drank the first draught of the mother’s love. She usually enjoys much <>f her counsel and companionship. In her absence she is the natural viceroy. Let the mother take double pains to form her on a correct model: to make her amia ble, diligent, domestic, pious ; trusting that the image «.f those virtues may leave an impression on the soft waven hearts of the younger ones, to whom she may, In the providence of God, be called to fill the place of maternal guide. Not Bad.— General Shields was shot through the breast at Cerro Gordo, and reported “ mortally wounded,” yet re covered, and now takes the place of Judge Breese in the United States Senate. This has given rise to the following good thing by a Sucker wag; Sonic men have ‘ lost their heads ” and lived, But stranger far than these ; The shot that pass’d through Shield’s breast, Instead of him, killed Breese. |C7“ Think on the following, querulous, envious, or passionate reader, and if you have children, see that the better “ mo tions of the spirit” impress the mould of the face while the lineaments are pliable and tender:—“Every passion gives a particular cast to the countenance, and is apt to discover itself in some feature or other. I have seen an eye curse for half an hour together, and an eye-brow call a man a scoundrel. The air of the whole face is much more expressive than the lines of it. The air is nothing else but the inward disposition of the mind made visi ble.” _____ A man who is able to employ himself innocently is never miserable. It is tho idle who are wretched. If I wanted to inflict the greatest punishment on a fellow creature. I would shut him alone in a dark room, without employment. An Irishman angling in the rain, was ob served to keep his line under the arch of a bridge, and on being asked the reason, be gave the following answer : “ To be sure, tho fishes will be after crowding there, order to keep out ofthe wet.”