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tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on,
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lic gazettes of this State, and at the door of the
C turt House where such sales are to be held.
(D* Notice for the sale of Personal Property must
be given in like manner forty days previous to
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to the Debtors and Creditors of an Es
tate must be published for forty days.
jV»iivc that application will be made to the
Ciurt of Ordiniry 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 he given by the Court.
for Letters of Administration on
ati Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
be published thirty days -for Lettersof Dismis
sion from the administration of an Estate, monthly
for six months —for Dismission from Guardian
ship forty days.
rj*llcLF.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,!
must he punlished monthly for four months —
for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of
three months —for co npelling Ti tles from Ex
ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond
hasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of
THRF.F. MONTHS.
N II All Business of this kind shall receiv
prompt attention at the SOUTHERN MUSEUM
Oifice, 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-paid, to in
sure attention. f~J)
“A Ell TLB dIOaCE GKAPE.”
fJNHE undersigned, f-ue to his promise, again
1. presents to the Public more data on which
they can safely base their calculations relative
to the respective merits of ilia depleting system
ofthe 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 weapons for attack
or defence, he selects his standing on truth, and
uses such support only as merit gives him ; and
for weapons, he chooses simply to assail the
ranks of the enemy occasionally with “a little
more grape,” in the form of facts,which are evi
dently the hardest kind of arguments since they
often administer to Ins quiet amusement by the
terrible destruction they cause among the stilts
and the ludicrous effect they produce in causing
certain iutiivinOals to laugh, as it is xorprsssoct in
homely phrase, “on t’other side the mouth.”
'flie Mexicans are not the only people, these
days, whom vanity lias 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 cro long take “ another of the same ” ala
mode de Tui,lor.
After the following there will still bo “a few
mure left."
Georgia, Jones Countv, 1348.
This certifies that for more than four or five
years my wife was afflicted with a disease pecu
liar to her sex, and notwithstanding all that we
could do, she still continued to get worse. The
Physicians in attendance had exhausted their
skill without rendering her anv 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. 8. Thomson, who, without having seen her,
prescribed and sent Iter medicine that soon re
lieved her, and in the course of a short lime re
stored her to permanent health She has now
been well about four years and rejoices in the
recovery of her Ion" lost health
FRANCIS B. 11ASCAL.
Macon. June 22d, 1848.
Du. M. S. Thomson— Dear Sir :—Deeming it
it 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 are at liberty to
publish if you think that the best mode oftliereby
subserving the interests of suffering humanity
In May 1841, after considerable exposure to
cold, I was attacked with Asthma, which pros
trated me very much, and notwithstanding all
that could be done to prevent it, it continued to
return about every two weeks till in 1846, I ap
plied to you. Between these attacks I bad a very
severe cough, which led some of the physicians
to whom I applied to believe that I had consump
tion. 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 l had reducer 1
f ont being a strong, fleshy man, down to a mere
skeleton and.could hardly creep about.—When
1 applied to you, I had hut little faith in being
cured, though I had witnessed some wonderful
results following your treatment, especially the
cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquii
lu Phelps, in Jasper, yet they gave me confl
uence and by persevering in the use of your
remedies, and as it were hoping against hope,
urn much gratified in being able to announce
tat I have got entirely well, for I have bad but
one fight attack in twenty months, and that was
1 . ,n( *nthe ago. I have now regained about
former weight, and feel as strong as almost
any man of fitty-one, which is my age. Without
' isparagement to the character ofthe other cures
t - at j’J oso frequently resulted from your prac
t'| U ” /' 0 not think that any of them can beat
us, or confirmed Asthma combined with a
sumptive cough, especially where the flesh
cur has long been classed among the in
'nmles. Most respectfully,yours,
H. LIGHTFOOT.
he undersigned still continues to treat Cliro
tln> C ' ,sus -It°in a distance at his olflco,or either of
tliron.7 , ! oardin i8 houses, and at a distance
W |, (| 's 1 , ' | o mail or by private hand. Those
at C _"' u require personal attention, are treated
Ug , 1 " ' ll rs per month, those who do, at the
pay no ''erato rates. Those who are able to
on,, j" 181 wpe-.t to do so, without variation from
t] lt>s ' ri ! ls ’ utl 'ess a distinct bargain is made,
, * '"•« not, will tie treated gratuitously.
' rs " l ust he post-paid, and add'essed
ian „ M. S. THOMSON, M. D
Macon, Ga.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
VOLUME I.
o e t r g.
Sons of the Laborer.
Oh ! can 1 forget as I bend o’er my loom,
So many long hours, in this dark, stifling room,
My boyhood's sweet time when I roamed all
the day
Untnnicly glad as a bird in its play ?
Ob ! can 1 forget when myown darling wife
Is soothing her hungry ones, calming their
strife,
Her tears rolling down as she thinks of their
fate,
How fair and light-hearted her maidenly state?
Ob ! can I forget with what joy and what pride
I saw in the future a happy fire-side,
When our aid age should rest in the cradle of
home,
Where, when Christmas was merry, our chil
dren should come.
Alas ! for the boyhood forever departed ;
Alas ! for the maiden so fair and light-hearted;
Alas! for the home and the happy ones nigh;
God help us ! we live but to toil and to die.
The March of Intellect.
A parent ask’d a I’riest his child to bless,
Who forthwith told him he must first confess.
Well, said the bny, suppose then I am willing,
What is your charge? To you ’lis but a shilling.
Do all men pay ? and all men make confession ?
Yes, hoy, every one of Catholic profession.
Pray, sir, do you confess? Yes, to the Dean.
And do you pay him? Aye, a whole thirteen.
Do Deans confess ? A r es, boy, they do—
Confess to Bishops, and pay something too.
Do Bishops, sir, confess ? If so, to whom ?
Why they confess, boy, to the Pope of Rome.
Well, said the boy, all this is mighty odd ;
And does the Pope confess? Yes, boy, to God.
And does God charge the Pope ? No, quoth
the Priest,
God charges nothing. Oh ! then God is best; I
He’s ready to forgive, and always willing.
To him, then, I’ll confess, and save my shilling.
A Wealthy Invalid.
We find in Fraser’s Magazine a series
of papers on “Matrimony,” from which
we extract the following ;
Lord and Lady Eskdale had been for
some time in pretty constant residence at
liashleigh. Her health was too delicate
to go that season to London, and lie had
run to and fro on what he called “parlia
mentary duties.” We need not inquire
very minutely into the nature of these.—
A member of the Upper House, having
no impertinentconstituents to reckon with,
can do, iu this respect, pretty much as he
fancies. Lord Rashleigh, it is whispered,
discha ged most of his onerous duties at
his club or elsewhere. But my lady nev
er read the debates, or looked into the di
visions. She had her own thoughts to en
gross her. A morning room at liashleigh
Court had been fitted up f»r the comfort
and exclusive use of the invalid, and now
a bed-room suite was added on the same
ground floor, to prevent the fatigue to the
poor occupant of passing up and down the
staircase—a fatigue most severe in the
then state of her pulmonic complaint,
which was fast assuming a hopeless char
acter. The ancient, small-paned, recess
ed windows of this sitting room had been
formed into aviaries, by large plates of
glass fixed between them and the cham
ber; the bright, although winter, sun
shone gaily in, making the feathered ptis
oners lively ; rare plants were in bloom
on a stand, and the old English sea-coal,
which had conquered the climate, and
given them vital heat, imparted the same
to the luxurious apartment, in which the
temperature was as near Italian as art could
render it. Art, too, had furnished the
room with all that could minister to grati
fication, mental or bodily. In one point
there was a failure ; Lady Eskdale was
dying, and all but herself knew it. Wast
ed to a skeleton, the gown which covered
her feeble frame was of the very latest Pa
ris fashion ; the hair, grown thin, and al
though the natural flaxen hue rendered
the change less obvious, grown grey also,
elaborately curled, its long fqpble ringlets
doing credit to Felicie’s skill, but little
becoming the hollow cheek and glassy eye,
which wanted the repose and shadow of a
different arrangement, this one adding
most painfully to the worn-out, half-effa
ced, as it were, yet deeply lined and rest
less countenance. And restless, indeed,
was that unhappy sufferer—querulously, ;
crossly, discontentedly re«tless all day ; j
•ud restless from cough, unless stupified
by opiates, all night ; nothing amused,
nothing soothed her. A broad riband, at
tached to the bell rope, to prevent the ne
cessity of rising, lay in her listless hand.—
MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 29, 1819.
She had put down the sentimental French
novel, which had failed to interest; but
what could she ring for? The children.
And she rang once—twice, and exhaust
ed with the effort sank back. They did
not instantly appear at the summons ; she
grew vexed, flushed, then coughed, took
a spoonful of emulsion, and rang again-
By the time they appeared she had work
ed herself into a state of excitement which
disposed her to quarrel, even with the pal
lid mild face, which timidly watching hers
betokened the delicate health of a silent
ly-suffering child. Lady Emily Rash
leigh made a dancing-master’s curtesy to
her mamma.
“Very awkward, Emily ; do that again.
Gussy, come here, and make a curtesy
too.”
The governess led the frightened Gussy
forward.
“Now, then, Miss Rule, make them
1 curtesy properly.”
And the curtesys were repeated till
Lady Emily burst out crying, saying it
hurt her knee.
“Hurts her knee ! What docs she
mean, Miss Rule ?”
Now Lady Emily had been some time
suffering from incipient disease of the
knee-joint, but her mother was not in
formed of it, lest it might agitate her deli,
cate state of health. Poor Miss Rule,
therefore, knowing that farther curtseying
would be injurious to the knee, and yet
afraid to communicate the truth to Lady
Eskdale, was hesitating what to reply,
when Port, gently forwarding to the in
valid lady the sonorous announce of
footmen in the hall, ushered in Mr. Pulpit
cushion. What relief to the little girls
and Miss Rule, who curtesyed out of the
room, and to their mamma, who wanted
amusement! What a relief ! hut not to
Mr. Pulpitcushion.
The worthy vicar of the parish was most
awkwardly situated ; anxious to awaken
the dying woman’s mind to some graver
ideas titan the law of curtsying, he yet did
not know how to treat the case ; had she
been a poor parishoner Mr. Pulpitcushion,
who was a bachelor, and shy of the sex,
would have been able to gain upon the
mind, and prepare it for religious impres
sions by kind alms, and judicious interest
in little worldly matters; but, good-heart
ed, charitable vicar! he could not offer
broth to the countess, nor volunteer to
befriend her children. In fact, lie had
never been treated in any way as if he
were of the same stuff’ as au earl, and
feared, therefore, to commit himself by
talking to a countess as though she were
of the ordinary human materials. And
vet he had some notion a countess had a
soul to be saved—that it was saved in the
same way as a cottager’s—that it was his
duty to attempt the task—but bow to set
about it ?
He saw the French novel lying there.
Now French being a language unheard of
at English universities, he could only
judge of its meaning by its chance resem
blance to Latin. The title of tho open
book was perfectly innocent; he asked
her ladyship, therefore, sundry questions
on her reading in general, and that book
in particular—rather puzzling to reply to
—for it was a mad, loose novel by Gozlan
called Pere la Chaise, which he, knowing
that was the name of the Parisian cemete
ry, supposed might be a treatise some
thing like Drelincourt on Death, or Her
vey’s Meditations, and though it was in
dulging a morbid fancy to read it, he re
joiced that the countess had begun to be
lieve she might, peradventure, be mortal
—a fact which, before that day, nothing
had seemed to indicate.
Pcrc la Chaise not leading to any result,
Mr. Pulpitcushion was charmed with an
idea which seemed very promising; in
the course of bis reading he had been
struck with the ingenious manner in which
the sins of incipient Grande Monarques
and other celebrities, above the common
modes of punishment, had been correcled
by the transference to a “whipping-boy’’
of their own merited flagellations—he
would apply the system. There was poor
Nelly Grey, dying of consumption ; he
would relate Nelly’s symptoms, feelings,
and improvement in religious character,
under his teaching ; and so the countess
might be taught, as the “whipping-boy”
had learned the lessons for Jamie Stuart,
who through that means became a won
derful pedant at last. (Who knows what
the "whipping boy” became /)
“Poor Nelly Grey’s case is pronounced
hopeless,” said Mr. Pulpitcushion.
“Is it*” replied Lady Eskdale. “Well,
I think it is a good thing when poor peo
ple die—what enjoyment in life can they
have ?”
“Perhaps your Ladyship thinks there is
H tie true enjoyment for any one in this
transitory world
“Oh, dear no. I only meant for poor
people. lam sure I should enjoy a great
deal if they would let me. They make
me so weak by shutting me up in this
wretched room.’”
Mr. Pulpitcushion did not think it so ve
ry wretched; but lie only remarked, as
he recollected Nelly’s shaking casement,
Perhaps the double windows give a
gloomy air; but they exclude the draughts.”
“Gloomy! oh dear, no! Sun enough
to make my head ache. And those birds
sing so!”
Mr. Pulpitcushion drew down the blind.
“Nelly Grey is so very contented and
patient,” he timidly remarked.
“ The poor ought to be so—they want so
little. I wish they would let me take a
drive. Dr. Calomel is very tiresome. I
don’t see how I can be expected to eat and
sleep without air or exercise!”
“Nelly Grey is in a happy frame of
mind, only deeply regretting she did not>
when in health go to church so often as
she might have done. She cannot go
now.”
“It is very wicked of the poor not to go
to church. 1 hey have no excuse for stay
ing away.”
Mr. Pulpitcushion wondered if the rich
had any ; but Lady Eskdale continued, —
“I always make a point of the servants
going. They have to learn not to break
the ten commandments, and so many
things.”
“It is a great privilege to be a member
of a Christian congregation,” suggested
the divine, “to join in prayer and praise.”
“Oh dear yes! I dare say—if they would
not sing so barbarously. One can’t join
in that ; and it would be very distressing
to make any of the responses, for they can
only apply to the poor ; but one does it for
the good ofthe congregation, as an exam
ple, 1 know 1”
Her ladyship uttered this with a thor
ough conviction of her own religious well
doing. The vicar thought of Nelly Grey
anu her fervently clasped skeleton fingers;
her earnest eyes gazing in hopeful rap
ture, as if for her the heavens were open
ing. He repeated half audibly,—“Blessed
are the poor in spirit,” wondered if coun
tesses ever “obtained mercy,” and took
his leave, heartily perplexed, since his
idea of teaching by example was an utter
failure.
Sweating Him. —A young candidate
lately presented himself before a certain
medical society for examina’ion, and, if
accepted, was to receive a degree from
the society. The censors went on with
the examination so far as to find him gross
ly ignorant. His embarrassments and
mortification had thrown him iuto a violent
sweat. In this pickle, one of the censors
asked him what course he would take with
a patient afflicted with the rheumatism.
He replied, “I would sweat him.,,
“Well,” said the censor, “and what me
thod would you take to sweat him V’
The poor fellow, who began to be a lit
tle angry on the occasion, replied,
“l would send him here, l swear, to be
examined !”
Ax Interesting Custom. —From that
delightful book, bv Mrs. Kirkland, “Holi
days Abroad, or Europe from the West,”
we glean the following curious practice
among the Dutch at Haarlem. It appears
that the inhabitants, on the birth of a child
place a gaily-trimmed pincushion at the
door of the house. If the new-comer be
a daughter, the pincushion is white, if a
son, there is a strip of red introddeed un
der the worked muslin. The exhibiton
of this token secures to the house certain
privileges, such as exemption from legal
execution, and whatever would be likely
to disturb the mother. If troops pass, the
drums are silent for the time, and all clas
ses honor the custom and the symbol.
Strong Comendation. — For sale, a
brown horse, with a Roman nose. He is
in good health, and very fond of traveling
having run away four times within a week.
Nowhere.” —The Pi tsburgh Chroni
cle says, “Nowhere is the place where
he banks lend money to poor men in
stead of the rich, whodo not need it,”
NUMBER 44.
Genuine and True. —A young man
who boarded at a house in the country,
where were several coy damsels, was on
one afternoon accosted by an acquaintance
and asked vvliat he thought of the young
ladie9. He replied they were very shy
ami reserved.
“So they arc,” returned the other, “and
so much so, that no gentleman conld get
near enough to tell the color of their eyes.”
“That may be,” said the boarder quick
ly, “yet 1 will stake a million that I can
kiss them all three without any trouble.”
“That you cannot do,” cried his friend.
“It is an achievement which neither you
nor any other man can accomplish.
The other was positive, and invited his
friend to the house to witness liis triumph.
They entered the room together, and the
three girls were all at home sitting beside
their mother, and they all looked as prim
and demure as John Rogers at the stake.
Our hero assumed a very grave aspect,
even to dejection—and looking wistfully
at the clock, breathed a sigh as deep as
algebra, and as long as a female dialogue
at the street door. His singular deport
ment now attracted the attention of tho
girls, who cast their slow opening eyes
upward to his countenance. Perceiving
the impression he had made, he turned to
his companion and said in a doleful voice—
it wants three minutes of the time.’
‘Do you speak of dinner?’ said the old
lady, putting down her sewing work.
‘Dinner ?’ said he, with a bewildered
aspect, and pointing as if miconciouslv,
with curled forefinger at the clock.
A silence ensued, during which the fe
male part of the household glared at the
young man with irrepressible curiosity.
“You will see me decently interred,’
said he turning again to his friend.
His friend was as much puzzled as any
body present,and his embarrassment added
to the intended effect. But the old lady
being no longer able to contain herself,
cried—
‘Mr. C. pr&y what do you speak of?’
‘Nothing,’ answered he, with a lugubri
ous tone —‘but that last night a spirit ap
peared to me,’ here the girls rose to their
feet and drew near—‘and the spirit gave
me warning that I should die exactly at
twelve o’clock to-day,and you see it wants
but half a minute of the time !
The girls turned pale, and their hidden
sympathies were at once awakened for the
doomed and departing one. They stood
chained to the spot, looking alternately at
the clock and the unfortunate youth ; he
then walked up to the eldest of the girls,
and taking her by the hand, bade her a
solemn farwell. He also imprinted a kiss
upon her trembling lips ; which she did
not attempt to resist.
He bade the second and third farewell
in the same manner. His object was
achieved, and at that moment the ciock
struck twelve. Hereupon he looked a
round surprised, and ejaculated, ‘who
would believe that an apparition could
teii such a lie. It was probably the ghost
of Ananias or Sapphira.
It was sometime before the sober mai
dens understood the joke, and when they
did, they evinced no resentment. The
first kiss broke the ice, and thanks to the
Ghost, they discovered that there was
some pleasure in the pressure of a bearded j
cheek.
00“ That was a good one of a man j
who stopped at a tavern to pass the night.
In the room were two beds ; and when
safely ensconced, and about to fall into a
pleasant slumber, the landlord taps gent
ly-
“ What’s the matter ?” says the traveller.
“I wish to put a man in one of those
beds.”
“Nobody can come here. Please put
the bed in the bill,” says he.
“That won’t answer my purpose,” said
the host. “I don’t wish to put the bed in
to the bill; I want to put Bill into the
bed !”
Conundrums. —Why is silence like
decayed fruit ?
Ans. — It is not sound.
Wherein do a wise man, a grocer’s till
and a polecat resemble each other ?
Ans.—They have sense, cents, 6cenls.
Why are tho editors of Shakspeare like
inferior murphies ?
Ans.—They are commentators (com
mon tate s.)
How would you change a cur to a lock
of hair ?
Ans.-—Add the letter 1.
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
Will he executed in the most approved styl e
and on the best-terms, at the Office %f the
3CTTSE2.IT MTSE-JM,
—BY—
WM. B. HARRISON.
Early Rising.
Every young man then, who desires to
he intellinent, good, and happy, should
learn to rise early in the morning. He
should do this for various and strong rea
sons ; among which are the following .
1. It is healthy to rise early.—\l is
scarcely possible to find a healthy person,
very old, who has not been habitually an
early riser. Sickly and infirm old people
I know there may be, who have been in
the habit, through life, of late rising, but
not many healthy ones. The following
are the names and ages of several men,
most of whom were eminent and remarka
bly healthy, who were distinguished for
early rising. Some of them rose as early
as four o’clock in winter and summer :
and one or two of them as early as three
in summer.
Dr. Franklin, 84 ; John Wesley, 88;
Buffon, the naturalist, 81 ; Stantslaus,
King of Poland, 89 ; Lord Coke, 85 ;
Fuseli the painter, 81 ; President Cbaun
cey, of Harvard College; 81 ; Washington
68; Matthew Hale, GS; Mr. Priestley, 71 ;
Dr. Samuel Bard, 79; Bishop Burnett,
72; James Mason, 100 ; Lewis Cornaro,
over 100.
2. It is delightful to rise early. — Can
any one entertain a doubt on this point ?
None can, 1 am sure, who have tried it.
All the early risers I have ever seen, find
early rising agreeable. One author, in
treating on this subject, has the following
remarkable words.
“There is no time equal in beauty and
freshness to the morning, when Nature
has just parted with the gloomy mantle
which night had flung over her. The for
est leaves sparkle with crystll dew; the
flowers raise their rejoicing heads towards
the sun ; the birds pour forth their anthems
of gladness; and the wide face of creation
itself seems as if awakened and refreshed
from a mighty slumber.”
3. It is good for the menial thinking pow
ers to rise early. —Solomon says, “Let us
get up early to vineyard ; let us see if the
vines flourish ; if the tender grape appears ;
if the pomegranates bud forth.” The
wise mau takes it fur granted here that
the mind is active at the hour in observa
tion, as it truly is. There is not a little
reason to believe that Solomon devoted
this sacred season, as some have called it,
to the study of “the hyssop,” the “cedar,”
and other plants and trees ; and that it was
his morning studies that enabled him to
become a teacher of all the kings of tho
then known world.
4. It is good for the feelings and affections
to rise early. —See the peasants of Switzer
land, for example, going forth to their la
bors—young and old, male and female—
at the dawn of day, singing hymns about
the rippling stream, tho towering cliffs,
the tall forests, scarcely exceeded by the
most joyous of the feathered tribes ; and
then again, see them playing with their
babes in all the tenderness of paternal
love. If there are hearts joyous, tender
and affectionate to be found in the world,
it is among these very peasants of the earth,
5. It is economical to rise early.—Frank
lin used to say.
“Early to bed, and early to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
Exercise of the body, whether in rec
reation or at labor, is worth a great deal
more in the morning than at any other
time ofthe day. An early walk is mucrh
more agreeable, as well as rrtore useful
than a later one. The labor of the farmer
and the mechanic is abd more agreeable
in tile morning than at any other time, to
say nothing of its usefulness. The lesson
of the school or of the family is easier stu
died, better understood, and more readily
retained, than at any other time. Devo
tion, too, is more spiritual at this hour than
at any other part of the day.
6. It is rational to rise early. —To lie
snoring in the morning alter the sun is up,
or even after early dawn, not only fenders
us like brutes, but like brutes of the most
stupid sort —the woodchuck, the boar, the
marmot, and the swine.
Free ang Easy— As the Queen enter
ed Cork, an Irishman shouted, “Arrah !
Victoria; stand up and let’s look at vou.’»
Her Majesty arose, when he exclaimed,
“God bless you for that, my darlin’t!”
Why may we suppose that Charles I.
was beheaded with his own consent ?
Ans.—He was axed whether he would
or no.
What flower does a miser resemble ?
Ans.—The marry-gold.