Newspaper Page Text
' THE
ifdl he published, erery SATURDAY Morning,
In the Brick. Building, at the Corner of
Cotton Avenue and First Street ,
is THE CITV OF MACON, GA.
by wm. b. iiarrison.
T E R M S :
For the Paper, in advance, per annum, $2.
if not pa'* l ><i advance, $2 50, per annum.
If not paid until tlle end of the Year $3 00.
irr Advertisements will be inserted at the usual
rej—and when the number of insertions de
r>ed is not specified, they will be continued un
til forbid and charged accordingly.
(fj-Advertisers by the Year will be contracted
with upon the most favorable terms.
Qj’Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors
or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on
the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours
„f 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. ..... r.
o*Sales of Negroes by Admimstators, F.xecu
torsor 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
in* 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.
rry Notice for the sale of Personal Property must
begiven in like manner fokty days previous to
the day of sale.
rfj*Notice to the Debtors and Creditorsoian Es
tate must be published for forty days.
g*yNotice 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
Siate for four months, before any order absolute
can be given by the Court.
for Letters of Administration on
an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
be published thirty and ays— for Letters of Dismis
sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly
for six months —for Dismission from Guardian
ship forty days.
(jJMtuLF.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 compelling Titlesfrom 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 receiv
prompt attention at the SOT I HERN MUSELM
Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal
Advertisements are published according to Law.
gy All Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in
sure attention. -CD
“A LITTLE MOKE GKAPE.”
THE 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 be is proud
to be the advocate.
Leaving tho 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, he selects bis 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 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 has latterly been giv
en the former by the Americans, and the latter
may ere long take 11 another of the same ” ala
mode de Taylor.
After the following there will still be “a few
more left.”
Georgia, Jones CouNTY,aIB4B.
This certifies that for more than four or five
vearsmy wife was afflicted with a disease pecu
liar tn her sex, and notwithstanding all that we
could do, she still continued to get worse. The
Physicians in attendance had exhausted their
Miiitl without rendering her any assistance till,
in 1844, when she was confined to her bed in a
very loiv condition, I got her last attendant to go
with ine 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 lias now
been well about four years and rejoices in the
recovery of her long lost health
FRANCIS B. lIASCAL.
Macon. June 22J, 1848.
Dr. M. S. Thomson— Dear Sir :—Deeming it
a duty I owe to yourself as well as to the afflicted
generally, I have concluded to give you a short
statement of my case, which you arc at liberty to
publish if you think that the best mode of thereby
subserving tho 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 ofthe physicians
•o whom I applied to believe that I had consump
tion. 1 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 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 but little faith in bein*
•cured, though I had witnessed some wonderful
•results following your treatment, especially the
cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil
fa 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,
am much gratified in being able to announce
that I have got entirely well, for I have had but
°. ne I‘ght attack in twenty months, and that was
eight months ago. I have now regained about
•ny former weight, and feel as strong as almost
any man of fifty-one, which is my age. Without
disparagement to the characterofthc othercures
that nave so frequently resulted from your prac
tice, I do not think that any of them can beat
his, for confirmed Asthma combined with a
Resumptive cough, especially where the flesh
as wasted, has long been classed among the iu
"leahles. Most respectfully,yours,
H. LIGHTFOOT.
The undersigned still continues to treat Cliro
'c cases from, a distance at his office,or either of
i® city boarding houses, and at a distance
the mail or by private hand. Those
atfi ° nt ref l u t re personal attention, are treated
" v ® dollars per month, those who do, at the
' Ja moderate rates. Those who are able to
() - must expect to do so, without variation from
th f * en ! ,s ’ unless a distinct bargain is made,
Me who are not, will be treated gratuitously.
betters must be post-paid, and addressed
fl „ M. S. THOMSON, Al .D.
fcb 3 Macon, Ga.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
VOLUME I.
$o 1 1 rs.
The Mind, The Heart, end Soul.
The Human Mind, that lofty thing,
The palace and the throne,
Where reason sits sceptred king,
And breathes his judgment tone.
Oh ! who with silent steps shall trace
The borders of that haunted place,
Nor in his weakness own
That mystery and marvel bind
That lofty thing the Human Mind !
The Human Heart, that restless thing,
The tempter, and the tried,
The joyous, yet the suffering,
The source of pain and pride.
The gorgeous—thronged—the desolate—
The seat of love, and lair of Hate—
Self-stung—self-defied.
Y T et we do bless thee as thou art,
Thou restless thing,the Human Heart!
The Human Soul, the startling thing !
Mysterious, yet sublime,
The Angel sleeping on the wing,
by the scoffs of time;
The beautiful, the veiled, the bound,
The earth enthralled, the glory crowned,
The smitten in its prime
From Heaven in tears, to earth it stole,
That startling thing, the Human Soul !
And this is man ! Oh ask of him
The erring, but forgiven—
While o’er his vision drear and dim
The wrecks of time are driven,
If Pride or Passion in their power,
Can stem the tide or turn the hour,
Or stand in place of Heaven ?
He bends the brow—he bows the knee—
Creator! Father! none but Thee!
A TRUK STORY.
Many years ago, I happened to be one
of the referees in a case that excited unu
sual interest in our courts, from the sin
gular nature of the claim, and the strange
story which it disclosed. The plaintiff,
who was captain of a merchant ship which
traded principally with the West Indies,
had married quite early, with every pros
pect of happiness. His wife was said to
have been extremely beautiful, and no
less lovely in character.
After living with her in the most unin
terrupted harmony for five years, during
which time two daughters were added to
the family, he suddenly resolved to resume
his occupation, which he had relinquished
on his marriage, and when his youngest
child was but three weeks old, sallied once
more to the West Indies. His wife, who
was devotedly attached to him, sorrowed
deeply at his absence, and found her only
comfort in the society of the children, and
the hopes of his return. But month after
month passed away, and be came not, nor
did any letters, those insufficient but wel
come substitutes, arrive to cheer her soli
tude. Months lengthened into years, yet
no tidings were received from the absent
husband ; and after hoping against hope,
the unhappy wife was compelled to be
lieve that he had found a grave beneath
the ocean waves.
Her sorrow was deep and heartfelt,
but the evils of poverty were now added
to her afilictious, and the widow found
herself obliged to resort to some employ
ment in order to support her children.—
Her needle was the only resource, and
for ten years she labored early and late,
for the miserable pittance which is evet
grudginlg bestowed on an humble seam-
Btress.
A merchant in New York, in moderate
circumstances, accidentally became ac
quainted with her, and, pleased with her
gentle manners no less than with her ex
treme beauty, endeavored to improve their
acquaintance into friendship.
After some months, he offered his hand
and was accepted. As the wife of a suc
cessful merchant, she soon found herself
in the enjoyment of comforts and luxuries
such as she had never possessed. Her
children became his children, and receiv
ed from him every advantage which
wealth and affection could procure.
Fifteen years passed away ; the daugh
ters married, and by their 6tep-father were
furnished with every article of comfort re
quisite in their new avocation of house
keepers. But they had hardly quitted his
roof when their mother was taken ill.—
She died after a few days, and from that
time until the period of which I speak,
the widower resided with the youngest
daughter.
Now comes the strangest part of the
story. Alter an absence of over thirty
vears, during which no tidings had been
MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING* AUGUST 4, 1849.
received from him, the first husband re
turned as suddenly as he went.
He had changed his ship, adopted an
other name, and spent the whole of that
long period on the ocean, with only occa
sional and transient visits on shore, while
taking in or discharging cargoes, having
been careful never to come nearer home
than New Orleans. Why he had acted
in this unpardonable manner towards the
family, no one could tell, and he refused
all explanation.
There were strange rumors of slave tra
ding and piracy afloat, but they were only
whispers of conjecture, rather than truth.
Whatever might have been his motive for
his conduct, he was anything but indiffer
ent to his family when he returned. He
raved like a madman when informed of
his wife’s second marriage, and subsequent
death, vowing vengeance upon bis suc
cessor, and terrifying his daughters by the
most awful threats, in case they refused
to acknowledge his claims.
He had returned wealthy, and one of
the mean reptiles of the law, who are al
ways to be found crawling about the halls
of justice, advised him to bring a suit
against the second husband ; assuring him
that he could recover heavy damages.—
The absurdity of**nstituting a claim for a
wife whom death had already released
from the jurisdiction of earthly laws was
so manifest, that it was at length agreed
by all parties to leave the matter to be ad
judged by five referees.
It was upon a bright and beautiful after
noon in Spring, when we met to hear this
singular case. The sunlight streamed
through the dusty windows of the court
room, and shed a halo around the grey
locks and broad forehead of the defendant,
whilst the plaintiff"s harsh features were
thrown into still bolder relief, by the same
beam which softened the pleasant and soft
countenance of his adversary.
The plaintiff’s lawyer made a most elo
quent appeal for his client, and had we
not been informed about the matter, our
hearts would have been melted by his
touching description of the return of the
desolate husband, and the agony with
which he now beheld his household gods
removed to consecrate a stranger’s hearth.
The celebrated Aaron Burr was coun
sel for the defendant, and we anticipated
from him a splendid display of oratory.—
Contrary to our expectations, however,
Burr made no attempt to confute his op
ponent’s oratory’. He merely opened a
book of statutes, and pointing with his thin
finger to one of the pages, desired the re
ferees to read it, while he retired for a
moment to bring in the principal witness.
We had scarcely finished the section,
which fully decided the mailer in our
minds, when Burr re-entered with a tall
and elegant female leaning on his arm.—
She was attired in a simple white dress,
with a wreath of ivy leaves encircling her
large straw bonnet, and a lace veil com
pletely concealing her countenance. Burr
whispered something to her, apparently
encouraging her to proceed, and then
gracefully raising her veil, discovered to
us a face of proud, surpassing beauty. I
recollect, as well as if had happened yes
terday, how simultaneously the murmur
of admiration burst from all present.—
Turning to the plaintiff, Burr asked, in a
cold, quiet tone—
“Do you know this lady ?”
“I do,” he said.
“Will you 6\vearto that 1 ?”
“To the best of my knowledge and be
lief she is my daughter.”
“Can you swear toiler identity ?”
“I can.” •
“What is her age 1”
“She was thirty years old on the 20th
day of April.”
“When did you last see her ?”
“At her own house, about a fortnight
since.”
“When did you last see her, previous
to that meeting ?’’
The plaintiff hesitated—a long pause
ensued—the question was repeated, and
and the answer at length was—
“On the 14th of May, IS—.”
“When she was just three weeks old,”
added Burr.
“Gentlemen,” contiuued he, turning to
us, “I have brought this Jady here as an
important witness, and such l think she
is. The plaintiffs counsel has pleaded el
oquently in behalf of the bereaved hus
band, who escaped the perils of the sea,
and returned only to find his home deso
late. But who will picture to you the
lonely wife bending over her daily toil,
devoting her best years to the drudgery of
sordid poverty, supported only by the
hope of her husband’s return ?
“Who will paint the slow progress of
heart-sickening, the wasting anguish of
hope deferred, and, finally,theoverwhelm
ing agony which came upon her when her
last hope was destre yed, and she was com
pelled to Jjelievo herself indeed a widow 1
“Who can depict all this without awa
kening in your hearts the warmest sympa
thy for the deserted wife, and the utmost
scorn for the mean, pitiful wretch who
could thus trample on the heart of her
whom he had sworn to love and cherish ?
“We need not inquire into his motives
for acting so base a part. Whether it was
love of gain, or licentiousness, or selfish,
ness or indifference, it matters not ; he is
too vile a thing to be judged by such laws
as govern men. Let us ask the witness—
6he who now stands before us with the
frank, fearless brow of a true hearted wo
man, —let us ask her which of these two
has been to her a father.”
Turning to the lady, in a tone whose
sweetness was in strange contrast with
the scornful accent which had just charac
terised his words, he besought her to re
late briefly the recollection of her early
life. A slight flush passed over her proud
and beautiful face, as she replied—
“My first recollections are of a small ill
furnished apartment, which my sister and
myself shared with my mother. She used
to carry out, on Saturday evening, the
work which had occupied her during the
week, and bring back employment for
the following one. Saving that wearisome
visit to her employers, and her regolar at
tendance at church, she never left the
house. She often spoke of my father, and
of his anticipated return, but at length
she ceased to mention him, though I ob
served she used to weep more frequently
than ever. I then thought she wept be
cause we were poor, for it sometimes hap
pened that our only support was a bit of
dry bread ; and she was accustomed to
see by the light of the chips which she
kindled to warm her famishing children,
because she could not purchase a candle
without depriving us of our morning meal.
Such was our poverty when my mother
contracted a second marriage, and the
change to us was like a sudden entrance
into Paiadise. We found a home and a
father.”
She paused.
“Would you incite my own child against
me I” cried the plaintiff, as he impatiently
motioned her to be silent.
The eyes of the witness flashed fire as
she spoke.
“You are not my father,” she vehement
ly exclaimed. “What! call you my fa
ther ! —you who basely left your wtfe to
toil, and your children to beggary? Nev
er! never! Behold there my father,”
pointing to the agitated defendant, “there
is the man who watched over my infancy
—who was the sharer of my childish
sports, and the guardian of my inexperi
enced youth. There is he who claims my
affection, and shares my home ; there is
my father. For yonder selfish wretch, I
know him not. The best years of his life
have been spent in lawless freedom from
social ties : let him seek elsewhere for the
companion of his decrepitude, nor dare
insult the ashes of my mother by claiming
the duties of kindred from her deserted
children.”
She drew her veil hastily around her as
she spoke, and moved as if to withdraw.
“Gentlemen,” said Burr, "I have no
more to say. The words of the law are
expressed in the book before you ; the
words of truth you have just heard from
woman’s pure lips : it is for you to decide
according to the requisitions of nature and
to the decrees of justice.”
I need not say that our decision was in
favor of the defendant, and that the plain
tiff went forth followed by the contempt of
every honorable person who was present
at the trial.
Letting out. —An Irish tailor making
a gentleman’s coat and vest too small,was
ordered to take them borne and let them
out. Some days alter, the gentleman in
quiring for his garments, was told by the
ninth part of an Irishman that bis clothes
happening to fit a countryman of his he let
them out at a shilling a week.
wag purchased a very fine horse. I
Returning from a ride a few days after
wards, he said he had discovered a quality
in his animal which added fifty dollars to
his value —“lie shied at a constable .”
NUMBER 36*
The Country Safe. —tn the olden
times, when the very best of men were
apt to indulge in convivialities, without
fear of greatly shocking the then moral
sense of the community, two old codgers,
whom we shall designate by the uncom
mon names of Smith and Junes, spent an
evening abroad in a very happy manner.
Jones became very much "elevated” by
the excess of indulgence—so much so, that
he was incapable of self-volition. Smith,
though hinselfsomewhat excited, under
took the grateful task of conducting his
p rtner in joy to his residence. This,
with much difficulty, from the crookedness
t\ the streets, and the up-and-downness
of the sidewalks, he accomplished. Jones
grasped the handle of his own door, and,
oscillating to and fro, with a look of com
ical gravity, hiccoughed out: “ Well, Mr,
Smith, I guess you can go alone now ; you
won't need ony more of my assistance."
Supplementary to the above, we would
add another, which we have cither heard
or read—A devotee of Bacchus being ab
sent from home rather later in the day
than suited the sorvereign will and plea
sure of his “spare-rib,” she devolved the
task of announcing the arrval of the delin
quent spouse, upon the eldest boy. Very
soon the little urchin ran into the house,
exclaiming : “ Marm , here comQs daddy
leading home two men'’
Giving in to his Better Half.—
“Hey, hey ! what’s that ? where, allow me
to ask, are you going at this time of night,
Mr. Snippe ?” cried a lady, in notes of
ominous sharpness.
“Out,” responded Snippe, with a heart
broken (Repression, like an afflicted
mouse.”
“Out, indeed! whar’s out, I’d like to
hnow ? where’s out that you prefer it to
the comfortable pleasures of your own
fireside ?”
“Out is nowhere in particular, but every,
where in general, to see what’s going on.—
Everybody goes out, Mrs* Snippe, after
tea, they do.”
“No, Mr. Snippe, everybody don’t—do
I go out, Mr. Snippe, without being able
to say where I am going to ? No, Mr.
Snippe, you are not going out to frolic,
and smoke, and drink, and riot round,
upon my money. If you go out, I’ll go
too. But you’re not going out. Give
me that hat, Dr. Snippe, and do you sit
down there, quietly, like a sober respecta
ble man.” And Snippe did.
Beautiful Extract. —The influence
of Christianity on society is not exerted
through the cannon of the warrior, and
♦ A f*l« _ 1 ... • .1
*'**'-' uGopuu/uoo v/A Iwu ouaiGSiuaw, uul in iwC
sweet breathings of truth that come on
the opening petals ofthe breast of infancy,
like spicy-laden zephyrs from the land of
the blest; in the gentle words of love that
fall in dewy freshness on tho wondering
ear of childhood, from gray-haired sires
and sweet-voiced matrons ; in tho name
less tellings of high and holy things, wrap
ped in deep, unutterable voices of the
eternities, that come to the silent ear of
youth, before the din and strife of the bab
bling world have studded these inner sen
ses of the soul ; in the longing and wistful
thoughts of things of deep, abysmal mys
tery that steal into the soul in its lonely
musings in the solitary chamber; in the
deep hush of the moaning forest; in the
seasons of gloomy doubt and frantic effort
to scale the prison walls of mystery and
darkness that rise and close in encir
cling silence around all; in times of heart
sickness and disappointment, when reach
ing forth the hand of warm, confidence
trust, it grasps the cold and slippery skin
of the adder ; it is then that Christianity,
with its wonderful tellings of infinite things
comes with apocalyptic splendor and
power, and revealing itself to the soul,
creates those martyr spirits that stamp
their lineaments on the enduring rock.—
Moore.
A Miser. —A poor man once came to a
miser and said, “I have a boon to ask.”
“So have I,” said the miser: “grant
mine first, then will I comply with thine.”
“Agreed.”
“My request is,” said the miser, “that
you ask me nothing.”
fCT* “My lad,” said a lady to a boy
carrying newspapers, “are you the mail
boy?” “You does’nt think I’ze a female
boy, duz ye ?”
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
Will be executed in the most approved style
and on the best terms,at the Office of the
SC-OfTSEPsSr UTTSEtJM,
-BY—
WM. B. HARRISON.
FAITH AND HOPK-A Parable.
BY WORDSWORTH.
One morning, as the stifi atose, tvVO
Spirits went forth upon the earth.
And they were sisters i btlt Faith was
of mature age, while Hope was yet a child:
They were both beautiful. Sortie loved
to gaze upon the countenance of Faith,
for the eye was serene* and her beaUtjr
changed not; but Hope was the delight
ofevery eye.
And the child sported in the freshheess
of the morning; and as she hovered over
the gardens and deW livVns, her wings
glittered in the sunbeams like a rainboWi
“Come, my sister,” she cried, “and
chase with me the butterfly from flower to
flowen” ,
But tier sister Was gazing at the lark,
as it arose from its low nest, and warbled
among the clouds.
And when it was noon, the child sakl
again : —“Come, rhy sister, and pluck with
me the flowers of the garden, For they are
beautiful and their fragrance is sweet.”
But Faith replied :—“Nay, my sister,
let the flowers be there,for thou art young
and delightcst tliyself in tliy beauty. 1
will meditate in the shade until the heat
of the day be past. Thou wilt find me
by the fountain in the forest: VVheh thou
art weary, come and repose on my bosom.”
And she smiled and departed;
After a time, Hope sought her sister.
The tear was in her eyes ; and her coun
tenance was mournful:
Then Faith said :—“My sister, Where
fore dost thou weep, and why is thy coun
tenance sad ?”
And the child answered :—“Because a
cloud is in the sky, and the sbn is overcast
—see the rain begins to fall-”
“It is but a shower,” Faith replied,
“and when it is over, the fields will be
greener than before.”
Now the place were they sat Was shel
tered from the rain, as it had been from
the noontide heat—And Faith comforted
the child, and showed her how the waters
flowed with a fuller and clearer stream as
the showers fell.
Anri prßflftntly the Bun Lrolte out again,
and the woods resounded with song.
Then Hope was glad, and went forth to
her sports once more.
Afler a while the sky Was again dark
ened, and the young spirit looked up, and
behold, there was no cloud in the circle of
the heavens.
Therefore Hope marvelled, for it was
not yet night.
And she fled to her sister, and cast her
self down at her feet, and trembled ex
ceedingly.
Then Faith raised the child, ahd led
her forth ftom the shade of the trees* and
pointed to the sun, and said :
“A shadow is passing ovter the Face
thereof, but no ray of his glofy is extin
guished. He still walketh in bright
ness, and thou shalt again delight thyself
in his beams. See, even yet his face is
not wholly hidden from us.”
But the child dared not look bp, for the
gloom struck upon her heart.
And when all was bright again, she
feared to wander from her sister, and her
sport was less gay tliart before.
When the eventide was come. Faith
went forth from the forest shades, and
sought the lawn, where she might watch
the setting of the sun.
Then said she to her young sister :
“Come, and behold how far the glories of
sunset transcend the beauties of the morn
ing. See how softly they melt away,
and give to tho shadows of night.
But Hope was now weary—her eye was
heavy,and her voice languid. She folded
her radiant wings, and dropped on her sis
ter’s bosom, and fell asleep.
She laid the child on a bed of flowers,
and kissed her cheek. She also drew her
mantle round thfe head of the young sleep
er, that she might sleep in peace.
Then Faith looked upwards, and be
held how the stars came forth. She tra
ced them in their radiant courses, and
listened to their harmonies, which mortal
ear hath not heard.
And as she listened, their music entran
ced her soul.
At length, a light appeard in the East,
and burst from the portals ofthe heavens.
Then the spirit hastened to arouse the
young sleeper.
“Awake ! Omy sister ! awake !” she
cried, “anew day hath dawned, and no
clouds shall overshadow it. Awake, for
the sun hath risen which shall set no more!”