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THE fI@ETSPSE33BSr MSWiSISUiSa Hill *« pshlished every SATURDAY Morning In. the Brick Building, at the Corner of Cotton Avenue and First Street, IS THE CITY OF MACOS, GA. UY WM. It. HARRISON. TER M S : for the Paper, in advance, per annum, $2. if not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year £3 00. irf’Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates—and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly, jj-Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. [rFSales of Land by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the mouth, 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 Admimstators, Execu 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 thereof for sixty hays, in one otthe pub lie gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court House where such sales are o be held. rENotice for the sale of Personal Property must be given in like inanuer forty days previous to the day of sale. rrTNotice to the Debtors and Creditors olan Es tate must be published for forty pays. jr-»Xotice 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 ca n be given by the Court. i 7'Citations for Letters of Administration on an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary.must be published thirty pays— for Letters of Dismis sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly for six months —for Dismission from Guardian ship FORTY PAYS. ! (fj»llui.ES 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 compelling Titlesfrom Ex ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond hat been given by the deceased, the full space of THREE MONTHS. N. B. All Business of this kind shall receiv promnt attention at the SOI 1 11E UN M USEUM Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal Advertisements are published according to Law. O’All Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must be post-paip, to in sure attention, fj) “A LITTLE MO ICE GRAPE.” rriHE undersigned, true to his promise, again |_ 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 lie is proud to be the advocate. Leaving the stilts of egotism and shafts of rid icule 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, ho 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.” Tiie Mexicans arc 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 lias latterly been giv en the former by the Americans, and the latter may ere long take “ another of the same ” ala mode de Taylor. After the following there will still bo “a few mote left.” Georgia, Jones CouNTY,aIB4B. This certifies that for more than four or five years my wife was ufilicted 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 rejoiceß in the recovery of her long lost health FRANCIS B lIASCAL. Macon. June 22d, 1848. Du. M. S. Thomson —Dear Sir :—Deeming it a duly 1 owe to yourself as well as 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 mode of thereby subserving the interests of sulfering 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. Detween these attacks I had a very severe cough, which led some of the physicians to whom I applied to believe that 1 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 get worßc,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 but little faith in being cured, though 1 had witnessed some wonderful results following your treatment, especially the cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil •a 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, tti'nfr”!'" 2 ' 1 gratified in being able to announce .. ' ave got entirely well, for 1 have had but »i-h* U a 'J aclt * n twenty months, and that was mv ago, * * lave now regained about any marioVfifi lßht ’ !ln<l feel as stron g as almost di/para"emeSm n ,t’ W £ ich «V* Without that have «n r lbc c l ,araote roftlic othorcures tico, I do not r f h qUe L nt l y resulted fronl y°« r prac this, for l * lat il «y of thorn can beat Co usumntir, „ rm °? Asthma combined with a liaiwasfr,) , Co [ l S ,, i especially where the flesh ’ las lon S been classed among the in- Most respectfully,yours, H. LIGHTFOOT. _ nic rS^n , c st »U continues to treat Chro-1 the city l ° m 4 * ( l' stance at his otfico,or either of throuui’i .1 ir ln ß bouses, and at a distance whodont rpni n ' ai ° r b >' P riv atc hand. Those at fiv e j o |i ‘ Ore personal attention, are treated Usu “l modßii". r,tr "‘ ontb ’ ,ho se who do, at the P a y must CXt hose who are able to ? r term, t 0 do , R °- without variation from lh ? c who’ are 2 9 “ • bar « ai '> * s made, Alters must hr ’ w ,roatpJ gratuitously. be post-paid, and addressed fob 3 AI.S.THOMSON, M. I). Macon, Ga. THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM. VOLUME K. o c t r g. My bife is Like the Summer Rose. BY THE LATE R. H. WILDE. My Life is like the summer rose, That opens to the morning sky. But ere the shades of evening close, Is scattered on the ground to die ; But on that rose’s humble bed, The sweetest dews of night are shed, Asifshe wept such waste to see ; But none shall weep a tear forme. My life is like the autumn leaf, That trembles in the moon’s pale ray ; Its hold is frail—its date is brief, Restless, and soon to pass away : Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree shall mourn its shade— The winds bewail the leafless tree ; But none shall breathe a sigh for me. My life is like print that feet Have left on Tampa’s distant strand; Soon as the rising tide shall beat, This track shall vanish from the sand : Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestageof the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the sea ; But none shall e’er lament for me. Etiquette for Gentlemen. In the columns of the National Intelli gencer devoted to notes on New Books, we find the following chapter from anew work on etiquette : In the intercourse of social life the im portance of li’.tle things is very great. — Trifles are capable of expressing a great er degree both of regard and disregard than larger actions. If you are attentive in trivial affairs it is said your regard ex tends even to the smallest considerations; if you are neglectful in light and unimpor tant matters, it is observed that you have not enough respect to be civil even in the minutest concerns. That person who picked up the hat of Mr. Madison at the flight of Bladensburg exhibited an abase' ment of flattery which it would have been difficult to exceed ; and that minister who refused to take up Napoleon’s when he dropped it in the council chamber as a test of the consideration he was held in, dis played a thoroughness of indifference which assured the Emperor that his fate was sealed. We shall here set down, without order or connection, some points of etiquette ne cessary to be known and practised by him who would be well-bred in manner. At an evening party you should make a point of going all around the room, after you have saluted the lady of the house, and bowing to every lady with whom you are acquainted. If, also, in any public room, or place of exhibition, you see any persons whom you know, you should go and speak to them. If a lady is going to her carriage, or is alone in any public place where it is usual or would be convenient for ladies to be at tended, you should offer her your service, even if you do not know her. To do so in a private room, as in the case above mentioned, might he thought a liberty. If you meet ladies or gentlemen whom you do not know at a morning visit or a small evening party, where you sit next to them and are brought into contact with them, converse with them with the same readiness and ease as if you had know-n them all your life. Moreover, if, in talk ing with one whom you are acquaint ed with, there are others in the group whom you do not know, you should ad dress them precisely in the same terms in which you would speak to your friend- On such an occasion the topics should be wholly free from embarrassment. A shy or awkward demeanor towards strangers in such positions is the certain mark of one not familiar with the great world. If you are presented to a lady at an eve ning party you should call upon her soon after. When you receive a card of invitation you should return an answer immediately, in the same hour that you receive it. This is a point of conduct which good breed ing, good feeling, good sense, and good morals seem to unite in enforcing, and yet is often violated. If a lady accepts an invitation, nothing hut the most cogent necessity, amounting to an absolute prevention, should be per mitted to interfere with her keeping her word. To decline at a late period after having accepted, is, I believe, invariably felt to be a rudeness and an insult, and it will be resented in some civil way. A young gentleman should alwa s ac- MACOH, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 21, 1819. cept the invitation of a lady, whether he is intending to go or not, unless absent from town, or illness, or some such mat ter will prevent his going, and then the reason should be stated in the note. It is so much a matter of custom or of course for young men to accept, that a bare re. fusal would excite surprise. If you do not go, you should call the next morning and leave your card by way of apology.— If the party is large there is no very imper ative duty upon you to go, though it is certainly more proper and gentlemanlike to do so, after accepting. If the party is small, and your presence important, i* would be rude, and it would do you an injury with the mistress of the house, not to appear after having promised to do so. At an evening party a gentleman should abstain from conversing with the members of the family at whose house the company are assembled, as they wish to be occu pied with entertaining their other guests. A well bred man will do all that he can in assisting the lady of the house to render the evening pleasant. He will avoid talk ing to men, and will devote himself entire ly to the women, and especially to those who are not much attended to by others. He will exert himself to amuse the com pany as much as possible, and to give an imation and interest to the occasion. Such efforts are always observed and apprecia ted by the hostess, and win her regard and esteem, while an opposite conduct rarely fails to excite something like resentment. To show that you take an interest in the success of her party, and to do all that you can to promote it, will give her a great deal of pleasure. At an evening party never put a tea cup, wine-glass, glass of water, or cup of lemonade back upon the same waiter from which you took it. That waiter will be handed to others, and it will be disagree able to them to survey an array of half empty cups and glasses, and perhaps in convenient to distinguish which are fresh and which have been used. Another wait er, in every respectable house, follows the first one for the purpose of receiving the cups and glasses with which persons have done, and upon it alone should they be placed. When the servants are engaged in hand ing tea or doing any other special service, you should not withdraw any of them from that duty by sending them from the room for anything else—as for a glass of water, a piece of ice. This is particularly im portant at a small party, where there are hut few servants, and where their absence will be more inconvenient. If a person in conversation has begun to say something, and has checked himself, you should avoid the tactless error so of ten committed, of insisting on hearing him. Doubtless there was some reason for this change of intention, and it may make him feel unpleasantly to urge him forward according to his first impulse. In like manner, if a person has been interrup ted in some remark, or prevented in at tempting one, and when having an oppor tunity to speak evinces no desire to repeat his intended observation, you ought not to lay any compulsion on him to do so. Iri all probability the remark he designed to make was of a trifling sort, not worthy to be uttered under circumstances of so much attention as you create for it by calling for its repetition ; or it may have been of a kind proper to the time when it was first offered, but not adapted to that after-mo ment at which you call for it. In such cases, if you have been the hinderer, it is better simply and calmly to apologise, and then give place for him to speak if he wish es to ; but not by word or manner to force him to speak. It is to be supposed that every one has courage enough to say what he wants to, without being drawn upon the stage ; and if the remark would do the speaker credit, depend upon it he will give to you of his own accord. In passing a lady in the street, who is accompanied by a gentleman on the out side there is the same reason for your ta j.j nr> the inside that there would he for you°to walk on that «ia» If were with them. You should take that side, then, unless you would pay the gentleman, if he were alone, the compliment of giving him the wall. When you salute a lady or a gentleman to w hom you wish to show particular res pect, in the street, you should take your hat entirely off, and cause it to describe a circle of at least ninety degrees from its original resting place. The inferior clas ses of men, as you may see if you think fit otake notice of them, only press the rim of their hat when they speak to women of thier acquaintance. If, in walking, you meet a friend, ac companied by one whom you do not, speak o both. Also, if you are walking with a friend who speaks to a friend whom you are not acquainted with, you should speak to the person ; and with as much respect and ease as if you knew the party. If you meet a man whom you have met frequent ly before, who knows your name, and whose name you know, it is polite to sal ute him. If you have paid a compliment to one man, or have used towards him any ex pression of particular civilty, you should not show the same conduct to any other person in his presence. For example, if a gentleman comes to your house and you tell him with warmth and interest that you are glad to see him, he will be pleased with the attention, and will probably thank you ; but if he hears you say the 6ame thing to twenty other people, he will not only perceive that your courtesy was worth nothing, but he will feel some resentment at having been imposed on. To treat all the world with discriminating respect and the same show of affection, does less good than to treat every one with coldness ; for it begets a reputation of insincerity. When music is introduced at a party, the playing should either he by profession al persons or by some members of the family at whose house the company are. It is not delicate to invite any of the guests t o go to the piano and tax their efforts for thee ntertainment of the circle. At dinner, there should not he much conversation during the first course, while the meats are receiving attention. At least, during that season the remarks which are made should be brief and quiet, and not upon earnest or exciting topics. Long stories should be avoided, for the listeners have other organs than the ear, which they are wishing to exercise at that time. At a latter part of the entertain ment, discourse is agreeable. If you are at a small party where tea is made in the same room, you should not enter into conversation with the lady who presides at the table, and you should not draw your chair close to her. She has need of all of her attention in arranging and predaring the tea-waiters, and she al. so requires room for her arms. How a Circumstance may determine Life. —lt is now some years since Mr. E. a respectable inhabitant of Brighton, who carried on the business of a plumber and glazier, died ; leaving behind him a wid ow and a daughter. Mrs. E.gave up the business, and removed to another part of the country, London, we beuevv. events a few months hack, she was in the great metropolis, on a visit to some friend, with her daughter, now a beautifol young woman. As the mother and daughter were passing one day through the Strand, they were overtaken by a violent storm of rain, which compelled them to look about for a place of shelter, and none presented itself more opportunely than the porch of a large mansion, the nature of which was not known to the fair refugees, but which was, in fact, the banking-house of S. S and P., one of the most wealthy firms.— Here the ladies took their stations, but had not been there long before the door of the bank opened, and a young man of genteel appearance presented himself, and begged that they would step in until the violence of the storm had passed. The ladies ac cepted the offer and were escorted by their polite conductor into an inner room of this establishment. What passed there it is not in our power to say. The con versation, we may presume, turned upon the ordinary topics, the weather, the amusements, the incidents of the day ; but whatever: the conversation, it was agreea ble to all parties. At length the storm sub sided—the rain ceased ; and the ladies arose, and with many thanks to their young host, withdrew—but not before he had succeeded in drawing from them the ad dress of their London residence. Nor was it long before he availed himself of •4>;» information, called and obtained per mission to repeat :!’ fl visit, which he did •*— until after a cC. riain ime time and agan. _ ‘ -»tachment, the young man declared ms made proposal for the hand of the young lady, and was accepted. The parents ot both parties were favorable to the union, and a few days ago the London papers announced the mairiagp, of the eldest son of Sir John Paul, of *J ne < irrn D f S. S. and P., to the daughter 0 f Mr. E-, ot Brighton. The d* Q f chivalry may be gone, but those f ‘-ue eallantn and dis interested lov will las? while the human heart beats J{ome journal NUMBER 31. Everything Goes Wrong. BY MARIANNE. “What is the matter, Ellen V' said a mother to her daughter, one evening as they were sitting together at work, “what great event has kept you silent an hour ?” “No very great event, mother: only a great many little ones, which have put me out of patience. Everything has gone wrong to day and Ellen laid down her work and looked up in her mother’s face as if demanding sympathy. “That expression is a very common one with you, Ellen : your ‘wrong days, and your ‘right days’ come round almost as Mondays and Tuesdays Now that we are alone, and not very likely to he inter rupted, let us examine the matter, and see if we cannot find some way by which these wrong days may be turned into right ones. Now what was your first trouble this mor ning 1” “Why you know I was late at breakfast, and father didn’t like it, and the coffee and rolls were cold, and then-—” “Stop ; one thing at a time, if you please your first trouble might certainly have been prevented—you could have been up in season if you had chose.” “Why, I was fast asleep how could I—” You were fast asleep when breakfast was put on the table, very probably ; hut were you not waked at half past five 1 ” “Yes—but—hut, —l thought it was too early to get up then.” Ah ! there is the difficulty; it is never too early to get up after daylight. You ■ know that it is my wish that you should get up as soon as you are called and your father’s displeasure and your cold break fast were the consequence of your disre garding that wish. I know of nothing which is more apt to make a day go wrong than beginning it badly.” “Well, perhaps I might have prevented that, but I am 6ure I could not help the shower jhat came up as I was going to school and I wet my feet so that I was uncomfortable all school time ; and I dropt my books in the mud and then my com position, which I had taken so wuch pains to copy neatly, fell out, and it looked so bad that I was ashamed to carry it to the teacher.” “As to your wetting your feet you should have worn your over shoes, as I wished, and then your feet would have been dry and comfortable; although it did not rain, the streets were very wet and muddy. Dropping the composition was, I allow, an accident which you could not have hel ped,—hut tell me did you bear these little trials pleasantly and patiently, or did you go in to the school room out of temper disposed to be dissatisfied with every thing.” “Why, of course, mother I could not, when evergthing had vexed me so.” “Do not say so : never say you cannot be pleasant. I have shown you that two of the evils of which you complain were caused by your negligence and the third was not such a terrible trial but that it might have been borne, had you not been impatient and fretful beforehand. If, when you found yourself late at breakfast, you had acknowledged yourself to be in the wrong and resolved to do better the next morning, iustead of excusing yourself you might have dismissed the subject from your mind, instead of allowing it to worry you as it has done. Well, what was your next trouble V’ We will not follow Ellen and her mo ther in their examination. It appeared that most of her troubles were little trials which she could hardly have noticed had she been in her usual frame of mind. El len was convinced that whereas she had been in the habit of saying “that every thing went wrong,” the fact was that she herself had been in fault, and she that night resolved in future to bear all unavoidable accidents so pleasantly'and patiently as to have no more days when “everything would go wrong.” Innocent Confession. —A lady, at con fession, amongst other heinous crimes, accused herself of using rouge. . “What is the use of it ?” asked the coA r~'ssor. m make niysell handsomer.” * And does it produce that effect V’ •'At least I think so, father.” The confessor on this, took his penitent out of the confessional, and having looked at her attentively in the light, said, ••Well, madam, you may use rouge, tor you arc ugly enough even with it.” BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, Will be executed in tlic most approved sty.* and on the best terms, at ike Office of the SCTTTHEP.IT mttsettm, -BY— WM. B. HAftRISON. The Polite Girl. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. There was nothing ; no, not a dash of the high life below stairs Vulgarity in her courtesies to the gardener or the stable boy. The chimney sweep was just as sure of a gentle and gracious reception. — In short, little Ellen could not, though she had tried, have laid aside the bland and most urbane qualities of her manner. As little was she capable of divesting tlrem of their real grace, or of having them mis taken for affected airs or mock civilities. She was polite merely because she could not help it. True, her politeness was ex cessively ludicrous sometimes, and now and then rather embarrassing when it im plicated others by taking upon itself to speak for them. Thus I overheard her one morning prefacing a message I had given her for the boot-cleaner, with my “compliments,” (she was polite enough to call me her master, which I was not,) her master’s compliments, and he thought tlier boots had not been so well polished of late. She never received even a command from any one without a "thankee,” and she al ways took a letter from the postman with a nice little courtesy, and a smile of acknow ledgement that implied a sense of obliga tion for his kindness in bringing it. “My master’s much obliged,” she would some times say, as she handed twopence. I’m not sure that she did not, one wet day, crowm her politeness by offering to come and ask me to lend the postman my um brella ; she was certain he would get wet, and carrying other people’s letters too ! One occasion I particularly recollect, it affords a good illustration of Ellen’s sen sitiveness on the score of giving trouble. A man had brought me some books, for which on delivery she impressively thank ed him ; when, as he was turning away, it occurred to him that he had a letter to de liver with the packet, and he began to search his pockets industriously in his bag. Observing the anxiety with which he pried into the corners of it, she said to him, in her excess of good nature, “Ch, sir, don’t trouble yourself.” “Trouble myself!" returned the honest man, elevating his eyebrows rather con temptuously, “why, if I have a letter to deliver as well as the books, I must deliv er it, musn’t 1 1” and he proceeded with his search for a minute or two, when El len’s good natured concern for him broke out again with, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” “Waiting!” muttered the messenger, “why, it aint you that keeps me waiting. But no, there’s no letter here ; certainly not ; well I thought I had one.” “Oh, sir!” cried Ellen, bent on tran quilizing his mind, and settling the mat ter with the truest politeness and delicacy of feeling, “oh, sir, never mind ; I daro say it does not signify; another time, per haps !” Ellen’s stay in my landlady’s service was not of long duration ; for my landlady herself wastaken suddenly ill—was dying. A friend of the invalid sent twice a day to enquire how she had slept and how she had sat up. Ellen regularly brought down the answer, “My missis’ compliments,and she has had a very indifferent night or „ “My missis’ compliments, and she feels,. very weak to-day.” This went on for six weeks, and Ellen, seemed to grow more and more sensible of the kindness and attention every time the messenger came. The compliments were sent hack as usual, hut the intellj-y gence became sadder and sadder. At length, one day, when the friendly in« quiry after the health of her mistress cams* as before, Ellen crept to the door with swollen eyes streaming with tears, and. sobbed out the melancholy answer* “My missis’ compliments, and she dieu this morning at eight o’clock.” Here is ■ the > “ruling passion” displaying its strength,i, not exactly in death, but in its neighhqr- , hood. The Right Spring.- —A lady brought a child to a physician in Utica, to consult about its precarious health. Among oth er things she enquired if he did not- think, the springs would be usetul ? “Certainly, madam,” replied the. dpc tor as he eyed the child, and then took a pinch of snuff. *‘ ? l* haven’t the least hepb tation in recommending the springs, aqd the sooner you apply the remedy the. bet' “You really think it would be good for the dear little thing, don’t you 1” “Upon my word it is the best remedy 1 “What springs would you recommend, doctor ?” “Any will do, madam, where you can get plenty of soap and tco,'cr / /