Newspaper Page Text
THE
If HI he published every SATURDAY Morning,
In the Brick Building, nl the Corner of
Cotton Avenue and first Street,
IN THE CITY OF MACON, CA.
by WI. It. UABBISON.
TERMS:
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.
(tt’Advertisements will be inserted at the usual
rates—and when the number of* insertions de
,j re d is not specified, they will be continued un
til forbid and charged accordingly.
(p 3 Advertisers by the Year will be contracted
with upon the most favorable terms.
O’Sales of Land bv 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 county in which
the Property is situate. Notice of these Sales must
be given in a public gazette sixty hays previous
to the day of sale. . . _
(p»Sales of Negroes by Admimstators, Execu
tors or Guarding, 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
li? gazettes of this State, and at the door ot the
Court House where such sales are to be held.
try Notice for the saleof Personal Property must
be given in like manner forty hays previous to
the day of sale. _
qj’Notice to the Debtors and Creditors!).an Es
tate must be published for forty days.
ry Notice that application will be made to (lie
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.
(tJ'Citatioss for Letters of Administration on
an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
"be published thirty days—for Letters of Dismis
sionfrom the administrationofan Estate,monthly
for six months —for Dismission from Guardian
ship forty days.
(jj’Rclf.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,,
must he published 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 by the deceased, the full space of
three months.
N. B. All Business of this kind shall roceiv
prompt attention at the SOI IHERNMLSEI M
Office, and strict care will be-taken that all legal
Advertisements are published according to Law.
lEpAll Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in
sure attention.
“A LITTLE MOKE GKAPE.”
11HE undersigned, true to Ins 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 phlogestio 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 weapons for attack
or defence, lie 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
eften administer to Ins 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 lias latterly been giv
en the former by the Americans, and the latter
may ere long take “ another of the same ” ala
mode de Tai/lor.
After the following there will still be “a few
more left.”
Georc.ia, Jones County, alß4B.
This certifies that for more than four or five
years my wife was afflicted vvitli 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, 1 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. IIASCAL.
» Macon. June 22d, 1848.
Dtt. M. S. Thomson —Dear Sir :—Deeming it
a duty 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 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 had 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 botli the Min
oral and Botanic schools, of eminent general
qualifications, but all to no benefit, for I contin
ued to get worse, so much so that I had reduced
bom being a strong, fleshy man, down to a mere
skeleton and could hardly creep about.—When
I applied to you, I hud but littie faith in being
cored, though I hud witnessed some wonderful
results following your treatment, especially the
cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil-
Phelps, in Jasper, yet they gave me confi
; deuce and by persevering in the use of your
■ remedies, and as it were hoping against hope,
I ,w,T ,:h gratified in being able to announce
■ one r | VP got en,ire| y "'oil. for 1 have had but
■ U !U . la ' ; k in twenty months, and that was
I r nlonU ' 9 a S°- 1 have now regained about
■ ini c.-’ 8 ' 11 ' and feel as strong as almost
IJ- - ln °* fifty-one, which is my age. Without
I j ra " ,:,,lr,, .t to the characterofthc other cures
Itiee i'i 6 S ° fr,! ,T ,en tly resulted from your prac
|tbu' ° no * think that any of them can bent
Bc'on’«i,> 0r ron ''"led Asthma combined with a
? A Cr \ especially where the flesh
’ las " n S been classed among the in-
Most respectfully,yours,
H. LIGHTFOOT.
Hnic cases'^ l ' rs, Bnf8 nfi and s, iH continues to treat Chro
-9 the city h •' ‘bst'tuce at his office,or either of
Htlirouuf, ," ar, li ng houses, and at a distance
Hwhn (font or by private hand. Those
■ at fived„ir q " ,rR l ,ers °nul attention, are treated
■ usual mn j 3IS P er tnonth, those who do, at the
■ Pay must .. IUI r * t<!S- Those who are able to
Hour terms'*^ 0 ? 1 to d° so, without variation from
■ those W |.’ ’ Unless * distinct bargain is made,
I “""V* 1 * will be. treated gratuitously.
>nust l,r pant-paid, and addressed
Ifeb 3 M. gj.THOMSON, M. D.
Macon, Ga
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
VOLUME S.
H o c t r fi.
TIIE AMERICAN FUG.
BV J. R. DRAKE.
When Freedom from her mountain height,
LTifur'icd her banner to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white,
With streakings of the morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle hearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen laud.
Majestic monarch ofthe cloud,
Whorear’st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumpings loud
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors ofthe storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven.
Child ofthe sun ! to thee ’tisgiven
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke,
And bid its blessings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory !
Flag of the brave '. thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph nigh,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn ;
And as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when the cannon mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall
Like shoots of flame on midnight’s pall,
Then shall thy meteor glances glow,
And cowering foes shall sink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas ! on ocean’s wave
Thy stars shall glitter o’er the brave ;
Wh en death careening on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside’s reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer ofthe sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee
And smile to see thy splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart’s hope and home,
By angel hands to valor given ;
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
And all thy hues were born in heaven. •
Forever float that standard sheet,
Where breathes the foe that fall before us,
With Freedom’s soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom’s banner streaming o'er us !
THE ORPHANS.
T was staying, about ten years since, at
a delightful litlle watering-place on the
Southern coast, which, like many other
pretty objects, is now ruined by having
had its beauty praised and decorated.—
Our party bad wandered, one sunny after
noon, to an inland village. There was
amongst us all the joyousness of young
hearts; and we laughed and sang, under
an unclouded sky, “as if the world would
never grow old.” The evening surprised
us at our merriment ; and the night sud
denly came on, cloudily, and foreboding
a distant storm. We mistook our way,—
and, after an hour’s wandering through
narrow and dimly-lighted lanes, found
ourselves on the shingly beach. The tide
was beginning to flow; but a large breadth
of shore encouraged us to proceed with
out apprehension, as we soon felt satisfied
of the direction of our home. The ladies
of our party, however, began to be wea
ry ; and we were all well nigh exhausted
when we reached a little enclosure upon
the margin ofthe sea, where the road pass
ed round a single cottage. There was a
strong light within. I advanced alone,while
my friend rested upon the paling of the gar
den. I looked, unobserved, through the
rose-covered window. A delicate and
graceful young woman was assiduously
spinning ; an infant lay cradled by her
side ; and an elderly man, in the garb of
a fisherman, whose beautiful grey locks
flowed upon his sturdy shoulders, was ga
zing with a face of benevolent happiness
upon the sleeping child. I paused one
instant, to look upon this tranquil scene.
Everything spoke of content and inno
cence. Cleanliness and comfort, almost
approaching to taste, presided over the
happy dwelling. I was just going to
knock, when my purpose was arrested
by the young and beautiful mother (for so
l judged was the female before me) sing
ing a ballad, with a sweet voice and a most
MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 28, 1849.
touching expression. I well recollect the
words, for she afterwards repeated the
song at my request:
SONG OF THE FISHER'S WIFE.
Rest, rest, thou gentle sea,
Like a giant laid to sleep,
Rest, rest, when the day shall flee,
And the stars their bright watch keep ;
For his boat is on thy wave,
And he must toil and roam,
Till the flowing tide shall lavo
Our dear and happy home.
Wake not, thou changeful sea,
Wake not in wrath and power;
Oh hear his bark to me,
Ere darksome midnight lower;
For the heart will heave a sigh,
When the loved one’s on the deep,
But when the angry storms are nigh,
What can Mary do, —but weep r
The ballad ceased ; and I entered the cot
tage. There was neither the reality nor
the affectation of alarm. The instinctive
good sense of the young woman saw, at
once, that I was therefor an honest pur
pose; and the quiet composure of the old
man showed that apprehension was a stran
ger to his bosom. In two minutes our lit
tle party were all seated by the side of
the courteous, but independent fisherman.
His daughter, for so we soon learned the
young woman was, pressed upon us their
plain but unpretending cheer. Our fa.
tigue vanished before the smiling kind
ness of our welcome ; while our spirits
mounted, as the jug of sound and mellow
ale refreshed our thirsty lips. The hus
band of the young wife, the father of the
cradled child, was, we found, absent at
his nightly toil. The old man seldom now
partook of this labor. “His Mary’s hus
band,” he said, “was an honest and gen
erous fellow; —an old fisherman, who had,
for five and forty years been roughing it,
and, ‘blow high, blow low,’ never shrunk
from his duty, had earned the privilege
of spending his quiet evening in his chim
ney-corner ; he took care of the boats and
tackle, and George was a bold and lucky
fellow, and did not want an tjjd man’s sea
manship. It was a happy day when Ma
ry married him, and God bless them and
and their dear child !” It was impossible
for any feeling heart not to unite in this
prayer. Wc offered a present for our re
freshment, but this was sfeadily refused.
The honest old man put us into the nearest
path ; and we closed a day of pleasure as
such days ought to be closed, —happy in
ourselves, and with a kindly feeling to all
our fellow-beings.
During my short residence at the village
I have described, I made several visits to
the fisherman’s cottage. It was always
the same abode of health, and cheerful
ness, and smiling industry. Once or
twice I saw the husband of Mary. He
was an extremely fine young man, pos
sessing all the frankness and decision that
belong to a life of adventure, with a love
of domestic occupations, and an unvary
ing gentleness that seemed to have grown
in a higher station. But ease, and com
petency, and luxurious refinement, are
not essential to humanize the heart.—
George had received a better education
than a life of toil usually allows. He had
been captivated, when very young, by the
innocent graces of his Mary. He was
now, a father. All these circumstances
had formed him for a tranquil course of
duty and affection. His snatches of leis
ure were passed in his little garden, or
with his smiling infant. His wife’s whole
being appeared wrapped up in his happi
ness. She loved him with a deep and
confiding love ; and if her hours of anxie
ty were not unfrequent, there were mo
ments of ecstacy in their blameless exist
ence, which made all peril and fear as a
dim and forgotten dream.
Seven years had passed over me, with
all its various changes. One of the light
hearted beings who rejoiced with me in
the happinness of the fisherman’s nest, as
we were wont to call the smiling cottage,
was no more. I had felt my own sorrows
and anxieties—as who has not ; and I was
in many respects a saddened man. I was
tempted once again to my favorite water
ing-place. Its beauty was gone. I was
impatient of its feverish noise and cease
less hurry ; and I was anxious to pass to
quieter scenes. A recollection of deep
pleasure was, however, associated with
the neighborhood ; and I seized the first
opportunity to visit the hospitable cottage.
As I approached the green lane which
led to the little cove, I felt a slight degree
of that agitation which usually attends the
renewal of a long suspended intercourse.
I pictured Mary and several happy and
healthy children ; —her husband more
grave and careful in his deportment, em
browned, if not wrinkled, by constant toil,
—the old man, perchance, gone to rest
with the thousands of happy and useful
beings that leave no trace of their path on
earth. I came to the little garden :it was
still neat: less decorated than formerly,
but containing many a bed of useful plants,
and several patches of pretty flowers. As
I approached the house I paused with
anxiety ; but I heard the voices of child
hood, and I was encouraged to proceed.
A scene of natural beauty was before me.
The sun was beginning to throw a deep
and yellow lustre over the clouds and tho
sea; the old man sat upon a plot of raised
turf at the well known cottage-door; a net
was hung up to dry upon the rock behind
him ; a dog reposed upon the same bank
as his master ; one beautiful child of three
years old was climbing up her grandfath
er’s shoulders; another of seven or eight
years, perhaps the very same girl I had
seen in the cradle, was holding a light to
the good old man, who was prepared to
enjoy his evening pipe. He had evident
ly been laboring in bis business : bis hea
vy boots were yet upon his legs ; and he
appeared fatigued, though not exhausted.
I saw neither the husband nor the wife.
It was not long before 1 introduced my
self to the “ancient” fisherman. He re
membered me with some difficulty; but
when I brought to mind the simple inci-*
denis of our first meeting, and more es
pecially his daughter’s song, while I lis
tened at the open casement, he gave me
his hand, and burst into tears. I soon
comprehended his sorrows and his bless
ings. Mary and her husband w ere dead !
Their two orphan girls were dependent
upon their grandsire’s protection.
The “Song of the Fisher’s Wife” was
true in its forebodings to poor Mary : her
brave husband perished in a night of
storms. Long did she bear up for the sake
of her children ; but the worm had eaten
into her heart: and she lies in the quiet
church-yard, while he has an ocean grave !
Beautiful, very beautiful, is the habit
ual intercourse between age and infancy.
The affection of those advanced in life for
the children of their offspring, is generally
marked by an intensity of love, evert be
yond that of the nearer parents. The
aged have more ideas in common with the
young, than the gayq and busy, and ambi
tious can conceive. To the holy-minded
man, who wears his grey locks reverent
ly, the world is presented in its true co
lors : he knows its wisdom to be folly, and
its splendor vanity : he finds a sympathy
in the artlessness of childhood ; and its
ignorance of evil is to him more pleasing
than men’s imperfect knowledge, and
more imperfect practice of good. But the
intercourse of my poor old fisherman with
his too most dear orphans was even of a
higher order. He forgot his age, and he
toiled for them : he laid aside his cares,
and he played with them : he corrected
the roughness of his habits, and he nursed
them with all sweet and tender offices.—
His fears lest they should be dependent
upon strangers, or upon public support,
gave anew spring to his existence. He
lived his manhood over sgain in all care
ful occupations ; and all his hours of rest
were all spent with liis beloved children
in his bosom.
Excellent old man! the blessing of
Heaven shall be thy exceeding great re
ward ; and when thou art taken from thy
abode of labor and love to have thy virtue
made perfect, thou slialt feel, at the mo
ment of parting, a deep and holy assu
rance that the same Providence which
gave thee the will and the ability to pro
tect the infancy’ of thy orphans, shall che
rish and uphold them through the rough
ways ofthe world, when thou shalt be no
longer their protector.
A Challenge. —A little fop conceiving
himself insulted by a gentleman who had
ventured to give him a little wholesome
advice, strutted him with an air of
importance, saying :—“Sir, you are no
gentleman—here is my card ; consider
yourself challenged. Should I be from
home when you honor me with a call, I
shall leave word with a friend to settle the
preliminaries to your satisfaction.”
To which the other replied—“ Sir, you
are a fool—here is my card, and should 1
not be at home when you call on me, you
will find that I have left otders with my
servant to kick you into the street.”
NUMBER 33.
THE IVV AND TIIE OAK.
The following beautiful allegory is from
the Indian :
“A vino was growing beside a thrifty
oak, and had just reached that height at
which it requires support, ‘Oak,’ said the
ivy vine, ‘bend your trunk so that you may
be a support to me.’ ‘My support.’ re
plied the oak, is naturally yours and you
may rely on my strength to bear you up,
but I am too large and too solid to bend.
Put your arms around me pretty vine,
and I will manfully support and cherish
you, and if you have an ambition to climb
even as high as the clouds.—While I thus
hold you up, you will ornament jny trunk
with your pretty green leaves and shining
scarlet berries. They will bes as frontlets
to my head, and, and I shall stand in the
forest like a glorious warrior, with all his
plumes. We were made by the Mas
ter of Life to grow together, that by our
union the weak should be made strong,
and the strong render aid to the weak.”
‘But I wish to grow independently,' said
the vine ‘Why cannot you twine around
me, and let me grow up straight, and nyf
be a mere dependent upon you.’ ‘Na
ture,’ answered the oak, ‘did not design it.
It is impossible that you should grow to
any height alone, and if you try it, the
wind and rain, if not your own weight
will bring you to the ground. Neither is
it proper for you to run your arms hither
and yon, among the trees. The trees will
begin to say, it is not my vine, it is a stran
ger —get thee gone, I will not cherish
thee. By this time thou wilt be so entan
gled among the different branches, thou
canst not get back to the oak ; and nobody
will then admire thee, or pity thee.’
‘Ah, me,’ said the vine, ‘let me escape
from such a destiny’—and with this, she
twined herself around the oak, and they
both grew and flourished happily togeth
er.”
AxEcnoTE of Dr. Gill Some eigh
ty years ago a very zealous professor of
religion in England went to Dr. Gill and
told him she had something against him,
and she considered it her duty to reprove
him.
“Well, my good lady,” sad be, “what
is the difficulty ?”
“Why, sir, I think your bands are too
long.”
“Ah, do you ! I have not thought any
thing about it; I will get a pair of Ibissoas,
and will thank you to cut them off as much
as you think best.”
She replied, “I hope you will not be
offended.”
“Not at all, not at all, madam,” he re
plied.
Without much ceremony, she folded
and cut off quite a large piece of the bands.
“Are you not satisfied ? look again and
see ; perhaps you bad better cut off a little
more while you ate about it, and be sat
isfied.”
“I do not know but I had, I think it is
still rather long ahd she cut off a second
piece, saying, “There, I think that will
do.”
“Well, my friend,” said the doctor, “I
must now tell you 1 have somethig against
you.”
“Have you, sir ?” she exefaimed ;
“what is it V ’
“I think your tongue is rather too long,
and you had bettre let me cut off a piece
of it”
A Yankee Answer. — A wager was
laid on the Yankee peculiarity’, to answer
one question by asking another. To de
cide the bet, a Down Easter was interro
gated :
“I want you,” said the better, “to give
me a straightforward answer to a plain
question.”
“1 kin du it mister,” 6aid the Yankee.
“Then, why is it New Englanders al.
ways answer a question by asking one in
return 1”
“Dtt they ?” was Jonathan’s reply.
I’m the Other. —lt appears there are
two Legislative members in Maine of the
same name, of whom a correspondent of
the Belfast Journal tells an amusing inci
dent which happened at Augusta the other
evening. Two gentlemen met, each un
known to the other, when one asked the
other if he knew where Mr. John Hodgdon
could be found ?
“You probably mean John Hodgdon of
Arostook, President ofthe Senate.”
“No, I’m that John Hodgdon myself.”
“ Well, I'm the other one, the represen.
tative from Lincolnville.”
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
Will be executed in the most approved xty’e
and on the best terms,at the Office of the
SCTJTZEPtIT
—BY—
WM. B. HARRISON.
Proud and Poor. —The family of Mrs.
Brown, a good widow, consisting of six
daughters, had the misfortune to be poor
and proud. Above ibe gross vulgarity of
manual labor, though not above its neces
sity,they lived in “stuck-up” idleness, and
dependent mainly on tho hard earnings
of the mother for support. Finally Mary,
who was the youngest, and rather pretty,
managed to win the heart and hand of the
village physician, and got married. The
alliance being considered as a decided
step “up in the world” by all the family,
the single sisters grew prouder and lazier
than ever, while the doctor’s wife took a
new and improved set of airs to match her
advancement in the scale of “good society.”
Being comfortably bestowed in her new
house, she began to feel the need of some
body to mind the pots and kettles ; and
seeing a neighbor (a thrifty mechanic whe
used to be “boss” to her father in the same
shop.) going past the door, she called out
to him in affected manner, to know “where
she should find a servant V’ —expecting to
get an offer of one of his daughters. “Well
1 don’t know,” said the carpenter, “help
is a little hard to be got just now, but there
is the widow Brown’s girls, who I should
think you might get, as they are dreadful
poor, and seem to be always out of work.”
Some neighbors who overheard the collo
quy say that madam retreated into her
house with a precipitancy that was quite
alarming to behold, and never spoke of
the carpenter afterwards, but as “a vulgar
fellow who knew nothing of the proper
distinctions of society.”— Boston Post.
California Aristocrats. —The fol
lowing story, which is vouched for astriie (
is told in the New York Courier and En
quirer, as illustrative of the present state
of things in the new land of promise :
Ihe Captain of the St. Mary went
ashore wRh liis baggage, and seeing a
shabby, alijeqt-looking creature standing
on the landing, he asked him if he would
carry his trunk to the hotel.
“Certainly,” said the fellow, “what will
you give me 1”
“Well,” said the Captain, “I’ll give you
a dollar.”
“A dollar ?”
“Yes,” repeated the Captain, “I’ll give
you a dollar.”
“Well now, look here,” said the man t
“I’l give you jive, if you’ll carry your trunk
yourself''
The Captain saw through the case, and
closed the bargain. He shouldered his
trunk—carried it to the hotel, and was
paid five dollars for doing it, by the man
whom lie had tried to hire for one ! 1 lie
most ragged, shabby, abject loafers about
town all have their pockets filled with
gold.
Gradation of Drunkenness. —There
is a Rabinnical tradition related by Fa
bricius, that when Noah planted the vine,
Satan attended and sacrificed a sheep, a
lion, an ape and a sow. These animals
were to symbolise the gradations of ebri
ety. When a man begins to drink be is
meek and ignorant lamb ; then be
comes bold as the lion ; his courage is soon
transformed into the foolishness of the ape;
and at last he wallows in the mire like the
sow.
A Poser. —An artist who had been em
ployed to construct an angel for the spire
of a church in a neighboring town, fin.
ished the work with a good pair of shoes
on. Someone took occasion to point out
the error to him, and asked, “Whoever
saw an angel with brogans on V’ The ar
tist.regarded the work for a moment, with
and air of mortification, but recovering
himself, rejoined, “You may be right, but
whoever saw one without V’ — Belfast
Journal.
|C7” The Recorder of London, at a city
dinner, having been called upon for a song
regretted that it was not in his power to
gratify the wishes ofthe company ; a wor
thy alderman, who was present, observed,
that he was much surprised by the refusal
of the learned person, as it was notorious
that numbers had been transported by his
voice.
A Cautious Damsel. —A verdant youth
from the country was recently dismissed
by a young damsel in the city’, on the
ground that she had been advised to avoid
anything green during hot weather.