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THE Hill be published, every SATURDAY Morning In the Brick Building, at the Corner of Cotton Avenue and First Street, IS THE CITY OF MACON, GA. BY WM. B. IIAKBISON. TERMS: For tha Paper, in advance, per annum, $2. if not paid in advance, $3 50, per annum. If not paid until the end oPthe Year $3 00. (ryAdvertisements will be inserted attlie usual r;lt0;! —and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly. [p*Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. ifj*Sales of Land by Administrators, F.xecutors 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 county 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, F.xecu tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on, the first Tuesday in the month, between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub lie gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court House where such sales are to be held. O’Notice for the sale of Personal Property must be given in like manner forty days previous ter the day of sale. (L7*Notice to the Debtors and Creditors oian Es tate must be published for forty days. ry Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne groes must be published in a public gazette in this .State for four months, before any order absolute can be given by the Court. for Letters of Administration on a n E-date, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must bo published thirty days —for Letters of Dismis sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly for six months— for Dismission from Guardian ship FORTY DAYS. rj*llut.F.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,' must be published monthly for four months — for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of three months —for cpsnpelling Titles from Ex ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond has been given by the deceased, the full space of THREE MONTHS. N. 11. All Business of this kind shall recciv prompt attentionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal Advertisements arc published according to Law. O’ All I .etters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in sure attention. /jD “A L.I I' t'Lild liotii; GRAPE.” rjAllE undersigned, true to his promise, again t presents to the Public more data on which they can safely base their calculations relative to the respective merits of the depleting system of the disciples of Esculapius, and of that invig orating and phlogestic one of which he is proud to be the advocate. Leaving the stilts of egotism and shaftsof rid iculo for the use of those who have nothing bet ter to stand on, and no other weapon* for attack or defence, he selects his standing on truth, and uses such support only as merit gives him ; and for weapons, he chooses simply to assail the ranks of the enemy occasionally with “a little more grape,” in the form of facts,which are evi dently the hardest kind of arguments since they often administer to his quiet amusement by the terrible destruction they cause among the stilts and the ludicrous effect they produce in causing certain individuals to laugh, as it is expressed in homely phrase, “on t’other side the mouth .” The Mexicans are not the only people, these days, whom vanity has blinded to their own de fects ; neither can they claim much superiority in the way of fancied eminence and blustering bravado over many that live a great deal nearer home. A salutary lesson has latterly been giv en the former by the Americans, and the latter may ere long take “ another of the same ” ala mode dc Tat,lor. After the following there will still be “ a few mote left.” Georgia, Jones County, alß4B. This certifies that for more than four or five years my wife was afflicted with a disease pecu liar to her sex, and notwithstanding all that we could do, she still continued to get worse. The Physicians in attendance had exhausted their skill without rendering her any assistance till, in 1844, when she Was confined to her bed in a very low condition, I got her last attendant to go with me to Macon and lay her case before Dr. M. S. Thomson, who, without having seen her, prescribed and sent her medicine that soon re lieved her, and in the course of a short time re stored her to permanent health. She has now been well about four years and rejoices in the recovery of her long lost health FRANCIS B. HASCAL. Macon. June 22d, 1848. Dr. M. S. Thomson — Dear Sir :—Deeming it a duty I owe to yourself as well us to the afflicted generally, I have concluded to give you a short statement of my case, which you are at liberty to publish if you think that the best modeoftliereby subserving the interests of suffering humanity. In May 1841, after considerable exposure to cold, I was attacked with Asthma, which pros trated me very much, and notwithstanding all that could be done to prevent it, it continued to return about every two weeks till in 1846, I ap plied to you. Between these attacks I bad a very severe cough, which led some of the physicians to whom I applied to believe that I had consump tion. I applied to physicians of both the Min eral and Botanic schools, of eminent general qualifications, but all to no benefit, for I contin ued to got worse, so much so that I had reduced from being a strong, fleshy man, down to a mere skeleton and could hardly creep about.—When I applied to you, I had hut little faith in being cured, though I had witnessed some wonderful results following your treatment, especially the cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil la Phelps, in Jasper, yet they gave me confi dence and by persevering in the use of your remedies, and as it were hoping against hope, ~a i" n J uc h gratified in being able to announce 'at 1 have got entirely well, for I have had but ciht U attack in twenty months, and that was V lntlnl hs ago. I have now regained about °( mcr weight, and feel as strong as almost >• nan °ffifty-one, which is my age. Without »l'! r ‘ l ß einc ut to the characterofthe othercures •; ~ ,l) e so frequently resulted from your prac te- ’ not think that any of them can beat C ’ 01 confirmed Asthma combined with a has w™? j PC i cou ßfr» especially where the flesh elm. i , bas long been classed among the in tables. Most respectfully,yours, 11. LIGHTFOOT. Jiic ci Un ' ° rs 'B ne< 3 still continues to treat Cliro thc pit CS { rom a distance at his office,or either of throinrh .1 : ar< *’ n .S houses, and at a distance who dm 16 r ? mii or hy private hand. Those at)i v . 1 require personal attention, are treated usual .nl . rS por month ’ those who do, at the Pay must Grale rate , s ‘ Those who are able to our tom to ?°»without variation from those wl!r’ Un ess " distinct bargain is made, l.ctUrs , are , r V >t ’ w 'll be treated gratuitously. »t«st be post-paid, and addressed feb 3 M. S.THOMSON, M. D. Macon, Gu THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM VOLI’iTIE I. $ o e t r g. THE WASDEREK’S RETCRJT. Air —Old Virginny's Shore. The day was gone, and the night was dark, And the howling winds went by’, And the blinding sleet fell thick and fast From a stern and stormy sky, When a mournful wail through the rushing gale, Was heard at the cottage door— O ! carry me back—O ! carry me back To my mother's home once more. ’Tvvas a youth who had left his mountain home, He had wandered far and long ; He had drained the goblet's fiery tide, At the festal midnight throng. But a dream of home came o’er his heart, As he crept to the cottage door— O ! carry me back—O ! carry me back To my mother's home once more. I have left the hall of the tempter’s power, And the revel wild and high— They cared not in their reckless mirth If I wandered alone to die. Doth the fire still burn on the household hearth* By the elm-tree old and hoar ? O ! carry me back—O! carry me back To my mother’s home once more. Like the weary bird that has wandered long, I will seek my mountain nest, And lay this aching head once more On my gentle mother’s breast. Once more will I seek the household hearth, By the elm-tree old and hoar— O! carry me back—O ! carry me back To my mother's home once more. [lt is a fortunate thing that such melodious airs as the above are rescued from oblivion, by adapting them to words worthy of the music. No reader of taste orjudgeme.nl will hesitate to prefer the beautiful lines above, to the coarse, senseless doggerel contained in the original. Ed. Museum ] THEY CAN’T POOL ME ! “Suspicion is a heavy armor, and With its own weight impedes us more.’’ Billy Keene’s peculiar boast was the utter impossibility of bis being hoaxed, or in his more expressive phraseology, fooled. They can’t fool me! was ever at his tongue’s end, and so evident were his at tempts to impress this fact upon all with whom he had anything to and >, that he not unf i equently made a fool of himself! Billy always made a point of express ing his disbelief of everything, however plausible, that reached bis ears, which, by the way, were exceedingly easy of ac cess, being not more than five feet two inches from the ground, when their owner stood upon his feet. Suspicion was always the one idea in his mind : he sus[)ected every one of some abortive design to gull him—from the most respectable friend down to poor old Isaac, who bad no more idea of a practi cal joke, than a polar bear might be ex pected to have of a baby-jumper. Billy was not naturally hard-hearted, but he was so suspicious that he turned twenty beggars from bis door, where lie relieved the necessities of one. In vain was the imploring eyes raised, and the wasted hand extended to him for alms.— The more piteous, the more evident it was to him a hoax. It all sounds very pi tiful, he would exclaim, but I’ve seen too much ofthe world—l’ve heard too much such stuff—it’s no use—you can’t fool me! and the wretched mendicant was compell ed to seek in other quarters for that charity which believeth all things, which thinketh no evil. Billy was once married, but it was a long time ere he was fooled into a state of double blessedness, yet (as be himself ac knowledged,) be often met with hair breadth escapes before he was finally booked. We recollect bis boasting once during bis bachelorship, that Emma 8., the only daughter of a neighboring mer chant, was endeavoring to ensnare him into the matrimonial noose. He was ma king the boast to bis particular friend. Other people don’t notice it, said he, but it is as plain as day to me. She thinks I don’t see her plan ! ha ! ha ! she can’t fool me ! Folks say her father will give her a cool ten thousand ; humbug! if she has got the spoons, why should she be so anxioustoget into my good graces? that’s the question ! She is rather pretty to be sure, but I wonder if she thinks I believe her complexion and teeth ate natural.— Guess she’ll find I ain’t quite so verdant as she thinks 1 am. No sii, she can’t fool me. Billy accompanied these words with a sly wink of peculiar expression, and gave no little cause of astonishment to his MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY lUORIVIMG, JULY 14, IS 19. friend, who for reasons best known to himself, was aware that the young lady was of any such intention as Bil ly injjviked to her. Billy was no less as tonishe*i*Uext dgy, at hearing of the mar riage f* iris fn’ehd e&rly that morning, with the idefitldafEjniria 8., whose ten proved to al charms were all natural, maugre Bill’s expectations. His friend found in Emma a lovely and devoted wife, while he, still wrapped in his “heavy armor,” remained a bachelor. But at length, as we have already told you, our hero was married. How any daughter of Eve managed to fool him into a union is now, and ever must remain a profound mystery. We are certain, how ever, that he was married, for wo found him at fifty, a widower, with an only daughter, a beautiful girl of eighteen. Our worthy friend was proud of his daughter Mary, and well indeed he might be : for she had a sweet, lovely face, and a faultless form, and there was a world of mirthfulness and mischief in her sparkling eyes. Nor was it strange that others should love her besides her suspicious old father, who could be fooled. There was a village rumor, (and we cannot deny that Madam Rumor for once told the truth,) of a warm attachment between Mary and Edward Seymour, of whom all spoke in the highest terms of praise. All com mended his good nature, frankness and ability ; but as Billy always stemmed the current of public opinion, he had the pen etration to perceive that these lauded vir tues were all moonshine : that in their es timation.of feeymour, the world were all wrong, and he obstinately opposed the union. He was inexorable, and finally Mary, out of respect to him, yielded an appaient compliance to his wishes, and Se\ mour s visits and communications were discontinued, and though she tried to ap pear as mirthful and happy as ever, yet her heart was ill at ease, and her im prisoned love would betray itself in her ev ery look and action. At length Edward, whose “hopes never died, ’ laid a plan for possessing himself of Mary s hand—indeed the desperate and almost hopeless prospect of fooling old Billy Keene ! Did he succeed I Have patience, reader, and you shall hear all. One sultry July afternoon, a pale faced gentleman, whom Billy remembered to have seen in the street, but with whom he had no acquaintance, called at bis bouse and requested to see him immediately on “important buiiness.” He was showed by Mary into tbo parlor, and our hero soon entered. The pale faced young gentleman first introduced himself, and then the object of his visit. “I nave an unpleasant disclosure to make Mr. Keene, which is of the greatest importance to you and to the happiness of your daughter. You are of course a ware that Edward Seymour has succeed ed in making his friends believe that he has given up all hopes of marrying your daughter; this is merely to fool your sus picions, but I am confident you have too much acuteness to believe it.” “Certainly,” said Billy, highly gratified, “go on, he can’t fool me !” “Well, as I was going to remark, my room at the Eagle is next to Seymour’s, and this morning I overheard him relating in high glee, to someone in his room, a plan for over-reaching you! and eloping with Miss Mary. I detest eaves-dropping, but he was talking in a loud tone, and his door was a little way open—so it was forced upon me.” “Ha! ha!” roared Billy, “he can’t fool me ! the poor idiot. I should like to see him try it; how is he going to do it 1" ‘‘His plan,” said the pale face, “is deep ly laid, but he is a fool to imagine that he can deceive you by any contrivance of his brain. Ho has employed a little black boy who brushes boots and does odd jobs at the Eagle to call at your house after dark this evening, with directions to tell you your sister Jemima has been taken of her old complaint, and wishes you to come to Pineville, to see her immediately, and while you are gone they will go to Jones’ and be married.” “I’ll teach ’em to try to fool me !” “I know, sir, that you could not have been duped by two such green ones, even it 1 had not discovered their plan to you, but at the same time, (if I might presume so far as to offer my advice,) I think that you had better pretend to believe the yarn about your sister’s illness, ajid, under co- j ver of going to Pineville proceed straight to ‘Jones’ Tavern,’ wait for the runaways break up their plan, cover them with con fusion, and bring your daughter home.— This will convince them forever of what they ought already to know, that they might as well give in that they can’t fool you !” “Capital idea!” said Billy, “much in debted to you, sir. You’re right, they— they can’t fool me ! Good day.” “Good day, sir.” Billy indulged in an immoderate fit of laughter, when his pale faced visiter was gone. So Edward Seymour was going to fool me, was he ?ha ! ha ! I guess he’ll find me a tough one, though : guess he can’t be fooled so'easy neither! and so deuced kind in him too, to put me on my gua.tl. He’s a gentleman and no mistake. The afternoon, dark and cloudy, soon passed away and after it came a black night, and a black boy. Billy heard the message of the latter with well counter feited concern for Jemima’s illness, and bidding old Isac saddle his mare, was soon on the road to Jones.’ The night was black, and a drizzling rain chilled bis bones, but still lie mut tered to himself, as he slapped his arms together, to accellerate the tardy circula tion. Cracky, how they’ll look when they find me waiting for them at Jones.’ Spose they think I’m half way to Pineville by this time. Ha ! ha! guess Jemima aint very bad. They can’t fool me ! “Why bless my soul, Mr. Keene, what brought you here in this storm 1” asked the burly Jones, as our worthy friend, drenched to the skin, reined the old mare up at the door. His only answer was, “you’ll see something presently, Mr. Jones that will tickle some, I calculate; they can’t fool me. The old mare was soon in the comforta ble stable, while the owner pacing the bar-room floor only uttered at intervals, “you’ll see some sport presently Mr. Jones —they can’t fool me.” An hour passed away—another—elev en o’clock and no carriage. That pale faced jackass couldn’t have been fooling me could he I thought the suspicious Billy. No by jingo—here they come. Now Mr. Jones, if you want to see rare fun, just step to the door—they can’t fool me. The carriage rattled up to the door in furious haste; the driver reined in the reeking horses, and sprang from his seat; the steps were thrown down, Edward leaped out, assisted Mary to alight, and Squire Curtis followed. Billy concealed himself behind the door, until the happy trio were in the sitting room—then with an air of triumph, he very cooly walked in exclaiming, “Smart set you be ! thought you could fool me, did you ? ha! ha ! ha ! Miss Jack-a-napes, you had better put your bonnet on again, sister Jemima aint dan gerous, and its pretty late, so we’d better be getting towards home, ha ! ha ! fool me will you 1” Mr. Keene looked around to see what effect his unexpected appearance had pro duced ; Mary did not as might have been expected, faint away on the occasion, but stopping forward half weeping, half smi n g, she broke the awful pause with “I’m ready to go now pa ; but first let me intro duce you to my husband Edward Sey mour; we were married at home an hour after you started. It was so kind in you to go and leave us to make our own ar rangements that we thought it would be too bad to make you ride home on horse back in this storm, so we came to fetch you back and offer you a seat in our car riage. Now you’ll forgive us, wont you pa 1” “Im sold, give me your hand,” said the crest-fallen Billy. “Give me your hand Seymour. This is the first time I ever was fooled, and you are the first person who could ever fool me. God bless you, my son,” said the old man, affected to tears, you’ve done what no man ever could do—you’ve fairly fooled me, you’ve won her, and you are worthy of her.” The remainder of the scene, our pen, though made of the stoutest steel, is too feeble to describe. Old Jones, who had been a wonderful spectator of the singu lar meeting, shook hands with Billy, as sured him that he had seen much more fun than he anticipated; and when the wedding party started home, Mr. K. re cognized by the coach light, the pale faced young man,transformed into a driver. Our hero is still living, surrounded by a lovely group of graudchildren, and ho is NiritfßEK33. still firm in his belief that he can’t be fooled. The last time we saw him he was listen ing to an account given by Seymour, on his return from the city of that wonderful invention—the magnetic telegraph. “I wonder,” said the old man, “if Ed thinks I suck all that yarn about writing and tal king by lightning’ or about sending a let ter from New York to Buffalo in a second 1 No! notin twenty-four hours either! It’s no use, Ed, you may tell that to the women and children, but you can’t pull the wool over my eyes again. I’ve seen too much of the world— you can't fool me." Husband And Wife.— The mutual du ty of husband and wife is love: wherein the society, sweetness, and felicity of mar riage consist. In that is included the bearing with the infirmities of one another. This always prevents fierce passions, the causes of strife, and makes the patient party better. The exercise of this affec tion is mutually distinguished. The love ofthe husband is consoling and comforting providing and protecting ; tlie love of the wife obsequious and assisting. His su periority and her subjection must be sweet end with love. The husband must not be bitter; nor the wife sour. The husband must govern the wife as the soul does the body, with wisdom and tenderness. There is a servile subjection, full of free dom, from love : and this is of wives to husbands. Ihe wife, though inferior, is a fellow ruler with him over children and servants. She is subject as his vicegerent, always preserving love and reverence in affection, and expressing meekness and obedience in actions. She as his deputy is to dispose things for his credit and profit. Prudence is requisite in both, that they may deposit their cares in each other’s bosoms, and trust their secret thoughts as securely as in their own hearts. The principal duty of husbands and wives is a tender care for the good of each other's souls. The husband should lead her in the way to eternal life, by his counsel and example, and the wife, by her humble and holy conversation, recommend religion to his mind and affection.— Bates. I’ kying Leeches— Rich Cooking. —A physician in one of the trios of cities ad joining Boston, recently prescribed leech es to be applied to one of his patients, a son of the Emerald Isle. The Irishman’s wife mistaking the word “applied” for fried, in the hurried manner in which the direction was given, fried a small mess of blood-suckers and gave them to her hus band to eat. At the next visit of the phy sician, finding his patient no better, he en quired if she had applied the leeches, as he had ordered. “Och, shure and I did,” replied the wo man : “I fried them in a little butther, but Pathrick, poor man, said he’d rather be aftlier atein’ a dish of fried grubs.” The Doctor looked amazed. “You don’t mean to say that you fried leeches ?’’ he ejaculated. “By my hopes of all the Saints’blissins, I did,” she re plied ; “and it would ha’ done your soul good to see bow beautifully I cooked the little squirming things.” “You didn’t give them to your husband to eat V’ exclaimed the physician, with increased astonishment. “Sure an’ I did ; ivery blessed son of ’em.” “Didn t I tell you to put them on his stomach ?” asked the Doctor. “Faix an’ I did,” she replied, “and if poor Pathrick didn’t swallo ’em down the right way, they’re on bis stomach now !” The Physician said no more, but ad ministering a powerful emetic to the pa iieui, lie sloped. In a few days after wards the woman met the Doctor, when she complimented him on the wonderful effect of the fried leeches ! and declared that her dear Pathrick “was as well as iver!” (£r Men lose many excellent things, not because they want power to obtain, but, spirit and resolution to undertake them. The odor of flowers is never so sweet and strong as before a storm. Beau tiful soul! when the storm draws nigh thee, be a flower. ICPAII pleasure must be bought at the price of pain ; the difference between the false pleasure and the true is jut this: for the true, the price is paid before you enjoy it, for the false, after you enjoy it. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, Will be execu'ed in the most approved style and on the best terms,at the Office of the 3CTTTEE3IIT I£USETTI£, -BY WM. B. HARRISON. Modestv.—Behold the daughter of in nocence!— how beautiful is the milduess of her countenance ! how lovely is the dif fidence of her looks! Her cheeks arc dyed with the deep crimson of the rose ; her eye is placid and serene, and the gentleness of her speech is as the melting softness of the flute. Iler smiles are as the enlivening rays of the sun ; the beauty of her presence as the silver light of the moon. Her attire is simple ; her feet tread with caution, and she feareth to give offense. The young and the old are enamored with her sweetness ; she carricth her own commendation. She speaketh not the first in the conver sation of women, neilber is her tongue heard above her companions. She turneth not her head to gaze after the steps of men ; she inquireth not of them whither they are going. She frequenteth not the public haunts of men, she inquireth not after the knowl edge improper for her condition. So becoming is the behavior of modes ty, so lovely among the daughters of wo men ! 80“ One of the most beautiful gems in oriental litterature is contained in a pas sage from a Persian poet, Sadi, quoted by Sir W. Jones, the sentiment of which is embodied in the following lines : Thesandal'tree perfumes when riven, The axe that laid it low. Let man who hopes to be forgiven,- Forgive and bless his foe. Cheering Thought. —Sound instruc tion is like a small stone thrown into the water ;it sinks to the bottom, and disap pears, hut when it struck the surface, it raised a wave ; this again produced anoth er wave, till the whole was in agitation. This thought may often cheer the mind, in seasons when all looks dark ; and though for the present the work may not be “joy ous but grieveous,” yet aftorward the most trying parts of the discipline may be those which will call for the deepest thank fulness. S3P An Irishman, going out hunting one day procured an old musket and sal lied forth. He had not gone far, when he discovered a squirrel perched on a tree. Paddy took a deadly aim, but instead of hiding the squirrel, the gun kicked poor Pat heels over head down a bank, and Mr. Squirrel went off about his business; chirruping with all his might. “Faith and the divil,” said Patrick, as soon as he could recover himself, “if you’d been at this end, my honey, you wouldn’t go off'eburrupee, chirrupee, churrupee.” Ilf A native of “Down East,” descri bing with characteristic exaggeration, the remarkable properties of Guano, as a pro moter of vegetation, said that a few hours after planting cucumber seeds, the dirt began to fly and the vines came up like a streak, and although he started off’ at the top of his speed, the vines overtook and covered him—and on taking out his knif e to cut the darned things he found a large cucumber gone to seed in his pocket. |0“ “I wonder this child :dim’t go to sleep,” said an angry mother to a female friend. “Well 1 don’t,” replied tho lady, “its face is so dirty it can’t 6hut its eyes ; why don’t you wash the little innocent V’ ••Why, what is the use ? water won’t get it off,” was the reply. “Take soap then.” “But the doctor said I musn’t give him a soapo rific if the child kept awake all night.” “Well, that doctor ought to be lathered, that’s all.” |C7“ Time clocks may stop, hearts may cease to beat, but still time goes on, stay ing or accelerating its pace for none ; 60 prayers advance or delay its speed, though the sad and joyous count its strokes by seconds, of a dfferent length. The Potato. —lt is, a fact not general-; ly known,.perhaps, to farmers, that are two parts in the potato, which if sepa rated and planted at the same time, one will produce tubers fit for the table eight or ten days sooner than the other. The small end of the potato, which is, generally full of eyes; is that part which produces the earliest ; the middle or body of jbe po tato produces late, and always larger ones. A farmer in the Amherst Cabinet says he . always pursues this plan in order to obtain an early supply for the table, which aro usually fine and mealy.— Me. Cultivator.