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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.