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THE
££^iSH!WM£ 9
Will be published every SATURDAY Mornings
In the Tier Story Wooden Building, at the
Corner of Walnut and Fifth. Street,
in THE CITY OF MACOV, GA.
BY WM. B. HARRISON.
*TI■: R M S .
For tho Paper, in advance, per annum, $3.
if not pajd iu advance, $2 50, per annum.
If not paid until the end of the Year §3 00.
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sired is not specified, they will be continued un
til forbid and charged accordingly,
(U*Advertisers by the Year will be contracted
with upon the most favorable terms.
p’Salesof Land by 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 Prop ;rty is situate. Notice ofthese Sales must
be given in a public gazette s«xty days previous
to the day of sale.
jQsgales of Negroes by Ad ministators, Execu
tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction, on
the first Tuesday in the tnonfh. 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
lie gazettes of this State, and at the door of the
Court House where such sales are to be held.
JOT Notice for the saleof Personal Property must
hegivenin like manner t artv days previous to
the day of sale.
to the Debtors and Creditors o'.an Es
tate must be published for forty days.
that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes must he published in a public gazette in this
S,ate for four months, before any order absolute
can he given by the Court.
jj’Citatioxs for Letters of Administration on
an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
be published thirty days for Lettersof Dismis
sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly
for six months for Dismission from Guardian
ship FORTY DAYS.
,pj*ltui.K.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 compell l ng Titles from Ex
ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond
hasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of
THREE MONTHS.
N. 15. All Business of this kind shall rnceiv
prompt attentionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM
Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal
Advertisements are published according to Law.
[Q*All Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in
sure attention. f~fi
“A LITTLE idlOttE GRAPE.”
rjlllE undersigned, true to Ins promise, again
i_ presents to the Public more data on which
they can safely base their calculations relative
to the respective merits of the depleting system
of tho disciples of Esculapins, and of that invig
orating and phlogestio one of which he is proud
to be the advocate.
Leaving the stilts of egotism and shafts of rid
icule for tlie 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 tli3 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 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 has latterly been giv
en the former by the Americnns, and the latter
may ere long take “ another ofthe same ” a (a
mode dr, Taylor.
After the following there \vi I still be “ a few
more left.”
Georgia, Jones County, 1848.
This certifies that for more than four or five
Vears my wife was nfilietcd with a disease pecu
liar to her sex, and notwithstanding all that we
could do, she siiil cnmimicd to get worse. The
Physicians in attendance had exhausted their
skill without rendering her iy 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 mid lay her case-Ur-orre Dr.
M. S. 1 iiomson, who, without having seen her,
prescribed and sent her medicine that soon re
l heved 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 ol her long lost health
FRANCIS 15. lIASCAL.
Macon. June 22d, 1848.
Du. M. S. Thomson —Dear Sir :—Deeming it
a duty I owe to yourselfas 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, 1 was attacked with Asthma, which pros
trated me very much, and notwithstanding all
•hat could be done to prevent it, it continued to
return about every’ two weeks till in 184 G, I ap
plied to you. Between these attacks I bad a very
severe cough, which led some of the physicians
to w liom I applied to believe that I had consump
,lo|>. 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
1 applied to you, I had but little fiiitli in being
cured, though I had witnessed soiye wonderful
following youi- treatment, especially the
1 l ' ut craz y woman you bought of Aquil
rlei,n Jasper, yet they gave me confi
cnee and by persevering in the use of your
uinedies, and as it were hoping against hope,
« r «i*«d in being able to announce
or/ ri° i ’" t e,, fitely well, for 1 have had hut
<- ight attack in twenty mouths, and that was
o ' months ago. I have now regained about
.J armor weight, and feel as strong as almost
i ll,lll ot fifty-one, which is my age. Without
Ihai'lj ra 8 8ln ® | D to the character ofthe other cures
tu> iT S ° •'■“quet'tly resulted from your prac
ihis' f ° n<lt that any of them can heat
Co’ Ut 00,1 firmed Asthma combined with a
liasC!"- cou S S i especially where the flesh
'urealfl. ,ils * oll n b ee| i classed among the in-
Most respectfully,yours,
11. LIGHTFOOT.
Tlk> •
fie cJ,'. ~ ln' .'''r s' Kn ' M ' s l' ll continues to treat Chro
t|io c j. US |" m '} tlistance at his office,or either of
tkroiinii ' ,rt li n .B houses, and at a distance
who dm t or fiy private hand. Those
at fi V( , o', personal attention, are treated
Usual , n^ , rs per month, those who do, at the
P a y mn-( ! ' U<! rilt,!a - Those who are able to
our ter ' M'er't to do so, without variation from
those J!' 8 ’ un,ess n distinct bargain is made,
I fetter''' ar ° n,,t » W 'H ho treated gratuitously.
must be post-paid , and addressed
I jna 3 M. S. THOMSON, M. D
Macon, Ga.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM
VOLUME I.
U o e t r g.
STANZAS.
BY LORD BYRON.
I would I were a careless child,
Still dwelling in rny highland cave,
Or roaming through the dusky wild,
Or bounding o’er the dark-blue wave.
The cumbrous pomp ofSaxon pride
Accords not with the free-born soul,
W hich loves the mountain's craggy side,
And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
Fortune! take back these cultured lands,
1 ake back this name of spU-ndid sound !
I hate the touch of servih Ands
I hate the slaves that cringe around :
Place me along the rocks I Jove,
Which sound to ocean’s wildest roar ;
I ask but this—again to rove
Thro’ scenes rny youth hath known before.
Few are my years, and yet I feel
The world was ne’er designed for me;
Alt ! why do dark’riing shades conceal
The hour when man must cease to he?
Once I beheld a splendid dream,
A visionary scene of bliss;
Truth ! wherefore did thy hated beam
Awake me to a world like this ?
I loved—but those I loved are gone ;
llad friends—my early friends have fled;
How cheerless feels the heart alone
When all its former hopes are dead !
Though gay companions o’er the howl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill,
Though Pleasure stirs the maddening soul,
The heart—the heart is lonely still.
How dull to hear the voice of those
Whom Rank or Chance,orWealth or Power,
Have made, tho’ neither friends nor foes,
Associates of the festive hour.
Give me again a faithful few.
In years and feelings still the same,
Arid I will fly the midnight crew,
Where boist’rous joy is but a name.
And Woman 1 lovely Woman, thou,
My hope, rny comforter, rny all !
How cold must be ttry bosom now,
W Iren e’en thy smiles begin to pall !
Without a sigh would 1 resign
The busy scene of splendid woo,
To make that calm eontentment mine
H hich Virtue knows, or seenrs to know.
Fain would I fly the haunts of men
I seek to shun, not hate mankind ;
My breast requires the sullen glen,
Whose gloom may suit a darken’d mind.
Oh ! that to me the wings were given
Which bear the turtle to her nest !
Then wonld I cleave tho vault of Heaven,
To flee away and be at rest.
.Singular Revenge.
An incident is related in our latest Pari
sian files, which could have taken place no
where else hnt in France. Mons. P
an old military officer—a man of harsh
and unbending character—had resolved to
marry his son to the daughter of one of
his brother officers. The young man had
formed other projects—had dreamed of
another union ; bur, being of an exceed
ingly timid disposition, dared hot openly
resist his father’s wishes. His first words
of dissent having been answered by a tor
rent of abuse on the part of the old gen
tleman, poor Arthur permitted the month
of betrothal to pass without further oppo
sition ; whilst his fiance, Mile. L —, mis
took his sighs—his melancholy—for proofs
positive of his passion for her, and con
sidered herself in dutv bound to adore
him.
The wedding day having arrived, the
fiances , with their attendants, presented
themselves at the Mayoralty. Arthur was
gloomy and reserved, and seemed to have
his mind made up to some desperate re
solve. The countenance of Emma was
radiant with happiness.
1 he preliminaries having been duly ar
ranged, the Mayor of C ( M. Morbi
b.tn) put to the groom the usual question
“ Arthur P , will you take this wo
man, Emma C , for your wife!” etc.
Arthur slowly raised his head, and in a
trembling, yet clear, emphatic tone, an
swered—“ No!”
Os course, then followed a scene, to the
portrayal of which we cannot hope to do
justice. All was confusion. The party
separated in disorder—the relatives of the
interested bride indignantly demanding an
explanation of Mons. P , senior, who
looked the picture of petrifaction. As for
Arthur, he had already escaped, and start
ed directly for Paris.
A few days subsequent to this extraor
dinary occurrence, a young girl was seen
rapidly ascending the stairs of & hotel gar
ni, in Kue St. Honore. She had learned
from the porter that Mons. Arthur P
uuived the preceding night. It was Em
ma C , come with her father and in
tended father-in-law, in search of the fu
gitive fiance, wiio had so cruelly insulted
her. But she was now alone. She tap
ped at the door of ISo. 17, and entered
without waiting for an answer. The
young man was reclining in bed, reading
a newspaper. Emma w alked straight to
the bed-side, and, drawing from under her
shawl an enormous horse pistol, which
MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER I#. 1819.
doubtless she had procured from her fath
er—
“ Sir!” said she to Arthur, her eyes
flashing with anger, 4 you have grossly in
sulted me, and 1 demand reparation ! Re
fuse this reparation at the peril of your
life ! Let us return at once to the Mayor
alty of C , both in marriage costume.
' When the customary rpiestion is put to
you, you will answer 4 Yes’ and 1 shall
answer 4 A of’ when my honor will be
satisfied.’
Lmma seconded her persuasive elo
quence by brandishing her pistol with both
; hands. It was a powerful argument.
After all, she was right, or nearly so—
at least such was Arthur’s opinion. He
promised, and set out the same day with
Iris father, who ground his teeth, during
the journey, but uttered not a word.
Finally, they presented themselves again
at the Mayoralty, before the same magis
trate. Arthur bravely answered 4 Yes,’
as arranged, and prepar ed his countenance
to express the proper degree of indigna
tion when he should hear the reply of his
betrothed.
The Mayor resumed— 44 Emma L ,
do you consent ?” etc. 4 Yes' answered
Emma, in the most natural tone possible.
Mods. P , senior, was delighted ;he
declared that this union, commenced un
der such auspices, would end like the fairy
tales. And they are now actually living
together, as happy as the days are long !
How IT Originated. —That pr ince’ of
joke crackers, Clarke ofthe Knickerbock
er, says:—We were not a little amused
the other day, sitting at. dinner in the
princely banquetting-hall of the N. York
Hotel, the finest in the United States, with
a discussion touching tho origin of the
origin of the phrase, 4 it aint nothing else,’
or 4 he wasn’t anywhere else,’etc. One
quoted Watts, as having been the first to
suggest this negative style of affirmation,
in the lines
11 Tts Heuvpn to rest in thine embrace,
And nowhere else hut there.’’
Another contended that the first use of
it was by Lamb, who in his reply to Cole
ridge’s query, 4 Charles, did you ever hear
me preach V replied, 4 I never heard you
do anything else,’ etc. We remember to
have Ireatd 4 Jim Grant* say one morning,
when it was not known whether Mr. Van
Buten had or had not received the nomin
ation of the Baltimore convention, and in
reply to a question whether Ire would he
likely to get it: 4 Get it said Jim ; 4 get
the no mi- rial ion ? He won’t get nothing
else !'—and he didn’t!
Literarf Habits of the Hog. —The
hog is exceedingly literary in Iris habits:
His wi tks are published in large issues
of 10 and 12m0., with an appendix at the
end of each, interlarded with liberal quo
tations from Greece. Although he. has
dealt somewhat largely insloc£«and banks,
and domestic produce, his property, like
that of most purely literary men, is his
pen. Like the good and great, in all ages,
Ire has his imitators and counterfeiters ' in
linked sweetness long drawn out,” not only
in Bologna, but in every other quarter of
the world. It is said that some of the rar
est and sweetest morsels imported into
Eden, when Adam was making prepara
tions for house-keeping, were conferred
upon Adam’s rib, which he spared fur do
mestic use.—So by a singular coincidence,
some of the sweetest combinations of ani
mal organization are conferred upon our
friend’s spare rib. He is in some respects
a peripatetic philosopher, making all his
discoveries in his rambles. He is no su
perficial searcher after truth. He skims
not over the surface. He goes to the root
of the matter. He takes things not by
guess but knows. If he is not in favor of
the 4 free-soil movement,’ lie is for the
free movement of the soil, and manifests his
attachment to principles by incessant la
bor in the cause.
Irish Temperance. — A gentleman from
Ireland on entering a London tavern, saw
a countryman of his, a Tipperary squire,
sitting over his pint of wine in the coffee
room. 4 Blood an’ ’ounds! my dear fel
low,’ said he, 4 what are you about ? For
the honour of Tipperary, don’t be after
sitting over a half pint of wine in a house
like this.’ ‘Make yourself aisy, country
man,’ was the reply; ‘it’s the seventh T
have had and every oue in the room knows
it.’
* Swear Not at All.’ —Deceive not.
Profanity and falsehood are marks of low
breeding. Show us the man who com
mands the best respects —an oath never
trembles on his tongue —a falsehood is
never breathed from his lips.
Predictions. —He who has a high fore
head will have his eyes under it, and will
live all the days of his life.
He who has a long nose will have the
more to blow and the better to handle.
He that is bald will be likely to have no
hair; hut if lie happens to have any, it
will not he on the bald place.
Women who have curious eyebrows
will in all likelihood have eyelashes under
them and will be beloved, if any one takes
a liking to them.
Young men who have any gallantry
will have arms, with young ladies swing
ing to ihem.
Old men whose wives are dead will
marry again, if they have a good chance.
Betrothals in Gcrinnuy.
A letter from Germany, published in
the Congregational Journal, says :
Jiince L have been in Mentz, the beau
and belle of Mcdnick (a town as large
as Concord) became engaged to each
other. It made as much sensation as if
the town had been burned down. As is
u-ual, notice was immediately given to all
the neighbors, and the next day the en
gaged pair commenced making their calls
in the new relation of bride and bride
groom ; for you must know that when an
engagement takes place, the gentleman is
called the bridegroom and the lady the
bride. 'I he parties speak of each other
always in this way. When you meet the
gentleman you inquire after his bride, as
you inquire in America of a husband afier
his wife. Ihe next week, as is usual, a
notice appeared in tho Berlin paper, to
the effect that Max Beelitz and Johanna
Hermann were engaged.”
How it came to pass that our English
notions and practices, in regard to these
matters, are objectionable, we do not
know. Ihe plan of keeping matrimonial
engagements secret, ( happily going some
what out of fashion,) seems to us exeeed
ingly wrong in itself, and pernicious in its
consequences.
1. Young persons ought not to appear
in society in a false position. A lady se
cfelly engaged may, without intending it,
seriously occupy the attention and thoughts
of another, to his injury, and perhaps to
the injury of her companions. When a
person no longer is at liberty to make or
receive offers, it is wrong to appeir at lib
erty.
2. The practice diminishes the impres
sion that aught to prevail, of the sacted
ncss of a matrimonial engagement; and
thus leads, on the one hand, to hasty and
ill-considered engagements, and on the
other, as a natural consequence, to the
violation of such pledges. An engage
ment to marry ought to he considered as
marriage itself. We mean what we say.
Such an engagement cannot be rightly
made without such a state of the mind and
the affections as must often render its ful
filment osen'ial to the well being of one
of the parlies; nor can it be made, or at
least long continued, in most cases, with
out interfering seriously with other plans
of life and prospects, W'liich the parties
might otherwise have embraced. The
engagement ought to he considered as the
solemn mutual avowal, before God, of a
union for life. Were engagements al
ways to he made public at once, and with
such a public sentiment respecting them,
we should he rid of suits of breach of
tnarraige promises, sustained by circum
stantial evidence, and often involving the
exposure to scoff’ and ridicule, of that
which ought to he held sacred.
3. Private engagements are made use
of by unprincipled men to deceive and
ruin the unsuspicious. In how many ca
ses of seduction it is found that a promise
of marriage has played its part! The
German custom would he a great barrier
to the use of that means.
4, We add one other consideration,
which, though it may appear trifling when
compared With the preceding, is yet im
portant in itself. It is this: the tempta
tion that a private engagement lays the
parties, and sometimes theirfriends, under,
to practise falsehood and deception. In
fact, as remarked in the outset, the parties
necessattly appear m society in a false po
sition—which tends of itself to operate
injuriously upon them. They are also
tempted to the use of various arts of con
duct and language, if not to absolute ly
ing, to produce a false impression. This
cannot he practised without injury to that
character of open truth and frankness,
which ought to be cherished.
A Recent Incident. —ln the crowded
market-place of one of the south-western
cities, a not them vender of religious hooks
was exhibiting his stock in trade,and call
ing on the people to step up and buy.
He was a colporteur of the American
Tract Society, hut seemed to he so abund
antly supplied, that he had the book which
every man called for, whatever its subject
or title. Indeed the variety of his supply
was so curious and extensive, that one man
offered to bet another, ( Mr. B.) that lie
could not name a hook which the vender
had not on hand. Mr. B. took him up
and cried out —
‘ I say, Mr. Bookseller, have you got the
Memoir of the Devil ?’
‘ The very thing,’ replied the agent tak
ing out a hook, ‘the only authentic me
moir of his majesty ever published, called
the Holy Bible, ju ice twenty-five cents ;
will you have it sir V
Mr. B. was obliged to pay his bet and
buy the Bible, which he took in the midst
of general applause.
Union of Literary Compositions.—
At a large literary party in Edinburgh, in
the course of conversation, it was men
tioned that a certain well known literary
character had writteu two poems, one
Called “The Pebble," the other “The
Ocean ;’ that he was offering them to tho
booksellers, who, however, would Dot ac
cede to his terms of publication ;. and that
the worthy author was, therefore, puzzled
not a little as to what he should do with
bis productions. 4 Why,’ remarked a sar
castic gentleman who was present, 4 1
think the doctor could not do beetter than
throw the one into the other.’
NUMBER 50.
| Tub Greatest of Claims. — Harden
not your heart hv saying, 4 You have too
: much to do to attend to the claims of reli-
J gion.” No duty to man can supersede
your duty to God. No urgency on earth
can neutralize your obligation to the Eter
nal. The voices of pleasure'and pain, kin
dred and country, and convenience, must
all he hushed, in order that you may hear
the voice of God. It concerns the safety
of your soul—it will decide your cverias
ting and unchangeable destiny. The voice
that speaks to you now from the mercy
seat will awaken your sleeping ashes in
their resting-place : “All that are in their
1 graves shall hear His voice.” Their great
ness shall not exempt the great, nor their
obscurity conceal the lowly. All shall
hear His voice in the resurrection trumpet
and obey it—the king as quickly as the
| beggar. They that have the sands of the
wilderness foi their winding sheet, and:
they that have for their sepulchre the des-j
ert sea, will hear His voice that day, I
whether they have obeyed it to day or trot,
and come forth. It will pierce the greeo
turf of the poor man’s grave, and the
bronze and marble ol the rich man’s mau
soleum. Ptolemies and the startled Pha
raohs in their pyramidical chambers will
hear it. The sleepers iu subterranean
cemeteries will hear it, and the ashes of
the ancient dead will he warmed with new
fire in their silent urns. Hear the voice
to-day, while its mingling accents are mer
cy and peace. Wait not till its tones are
those of justice, and truth, and holiness
alone. Hear it while it is tho voice of
the waiting Father. Soon it will he the
voice ofthe offended Judge. Ho you say
“I cannot believe V' Is this your sincete
conviction—the sorrowful feeling of your
heart ?—lt is a truly favorable symptom.
The moment you despair in self, you may
put confidence in God. It is in heart felt
weakness that divine strength is made
perfect. But if this objection he only an
other version of “I will not believe,” you
only harden your heart by making use of
it.
Pats. D’Amovr.—Ude, when in Paris,
had fallen in love, and matters were nearly
brought to matrimony, Previous to this
conclusion, Ude, however, made a calcula
tion (he being an excellent stewart) ofthe
expenses of married life, and in the esti
mate, set down Madame’s expenditure at
so many louis. Now, Ude customarily
conveyed Iris billets in an envelope of
pale a’ Amande ; hut unfortunately, in the
confusion of love and cookery, the esti
mate of housekeeping was sent instead of
the ptoposal. The next day, Ude was ap
prized of his mistake by a letter from his
mistress, stating the high estimation in
which she held M. Ude ; but that as
louis were too small an allowance for a
woman of fashion, she must decline the
honour of becoming Madame Tide. The
story got wind, and, by a sort of lucus-a
non-lucend o analogy, the name of Pate d’
Amunde was changed into Fate d' Amour .
Here a little and there a little.— j
Impressions are made on children, as on!
rocks, by a constant dropping of little in- 1
fluences. What can one drop do ? You ;
scarcely see it fall; and presently it rolls
away, oris evaporated; you cannot, even
Yvitlr a microscope, measure the little in
dentation it lias made. Yet it is the cons
tant repetition of this trifling agency which
furrows, and at length hollows out the
very granite.
Nothing is little, in regard to children,
Seize every available opening to instruct
and impress them. If you have but a mo
ment, employ it. A sentence issometimes
better than a sermon. One word ofSct ip
turc may prove a seed of life.
When your child awakes in the morning, 1
when he is going to school, when he comes
to your knee in the evening, when he i
kisses you on retiring, when he lies down
in bed, when lie is aroused at midnight,
these are the moments to be seized for the
inculcation of some sacred truth, the for
mation of some Christian habit. And, in
this work, a short saying is better than a
long one.
A Doubtful Epistle. —There is tlie
greatest difficulty in deciphering Aflghan
writings, fur only the consonants appear,
and you must insert the vowels as you
think will best suit the sense. Thus, the
word pirin, 1 beloved,’ is written exactly
likely pare, ' beyond,’ for only the p and
the r are represented. The consequence
of such an elliptical mode of writing, is,
that even the natives make egregious blun
ders in extracting the pith of the queer
little epistles with which their correspon
dents favour them. A merchant, for in
stance, is said to have received a letter
from a friend in Rajpulana, whither his
son had gone. Not being very quick at
making out hand writing, he asked an ac
quaintance to help him; who interpreted
ti in such a manner as to make it an an
nouncement of his son’s death. The poor
father threw dust on his head, bowled pit
eously, and collected a crowd about him.
4 Alas!’ he cried, 4 he was my only son !’
One of the by standers, much moved by
bis distress, asked him to see the letter.—
4 Pshaw,’ said he after looking at it, 4 there
is nothing about death here—-your son has
taken a wife —he is happily married.’
4 Now,’ said the father, 4 I am worse off
than ever, for I know not whether to cry
or lauirlr ’
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
ill be executed in the most approved Style
and on the best terms,at the Office of the
SCTXTHESUT MTJSEUM,
-BY—
WM. 15. HARRISON.
The Illiterate Rob*er. —A gentle-*
man passing late at niglit over the Pont
J Netif in Paris, was accosted by a polite
and seemingly supplicant stranger, who
, asked him to read a paper which he had
| just picked up. The gentleman held up
his lantern and complied. The following
I is a translation of the lings l
Speak not a word when this you're read,
Or in an instant you’ll be dead;
Give up your money, watch and ring*
Or other valuable things;
Departed then quickly, as you will,
Only remember silence still.
The gentleman thought it best to deliver
up his valuables as required. The robber
was afterwaids recognized by the person
robbed, and arrested. His identity was
positively sworn to, and the following con
fession was made by the criminal:—‘My
lords : I confess that on the evening speci
fied, I met this gcutlcman on the Pont
Neuf, and the transaction occurred as he
related it; but yet 1 am far from being
guilty. 1 cannot read ; I picked up the
paper and thought it might be of conse
quence. Seeing that the gentleman had
a lantern, 1 begged him to do roe the favor
to read the paper. He complied, and then
to my surprise, put his watch, rings and
money into my hand. I was so astonished
that 1 could not ask him what lie meant,and
supposed that the paper was of great val
ue, and that he had given me his money,
rings and watch to get rid of me. Thus
if any one was wronged, it was I, and I
hope that justice will be done me.’ He
was acquitted I
, Simplicity Personified. —We have
seldom heard of an instance of more beau
tiful simplicity than was evinced by a
• f matter-ol fact witness on a riot-trial case
down-east.’ 4 What were the mob doing
when you first saw them V was one of the
questions asked by the district attorney.
‘ They was a-singing,’ replied the witness.
‘Singing /’ exclaimed the public prosecu
tor; ‘ what were they singing about!’ 4 1
don’ know, I’m sure, hut they was a-sing
mg, any lrovv.’ 4 Well, what was it? What
were they saying ? What did they seem
lobe talking about?’ 4 Wal, as far as I
reecollecs,’ replied the witness, ‘they was
a-tulkin’ abeout a man o’ the name of Mr.
1 ucker, who refused to come home to his
supper!’ This supreme specimen of ig
norance and simplicity convulsed the
whole court with laughter.— Knick.
Married and Single Mf.n.—A con
temporary very sensibly remarks,that there
should be some means of distinguishing
single from married men. Unmarried fe°
males are known by the prefix of Miss to
their names, but all men ore styled Mr.
How much unnecessary trouble and soli
citude might he spared to the anxious mo
thers of marriageable girls could they
make this distinction ! How very annoy
ing to a mother and bevy of girls after lay
ing themselves out to please some 4 nice
young man,’ to hear him accidentally al
lude to his wife! This subject really de
mands attention, and we think that" tho
girls should suggest some plan by which
these disappointments might he obviated.
We think there already exists a mode in
which single men can easily be distinguish
ed from married ones by ladies of discern
ment. It is by paying a little attention to
the conversation ami manners of gentle
men, There is an ease and grace in the
manners of married men, a sensibleness
and want of flutter in their conversation,
which enable them to be readily distin.
guished in a mixed company. Unmarried
men may lie distinguished by a 4 green
ness,’ a certain frivolousness of conversa
tion, and a peculiar nutter of deptlttmenr,
that nothing but matrimony can entirely
cure.
Adventx-res of a Crown.—The Hun
garian crown, Which was carried off’ by
Kossuth, when he fled into Turkey, is fa
bled, by the Hungarian legends, "to have
been sent by angels to St. Stephen, who
was crowned with it in 1001! The truth,
as related by history, is, that it was presen
ted to Stephen by Pope Sylvester 11.—*A
golden circlet, presented to Duke Giesa
by the Greek Emjieror, was incorporated
with it afterwards. It has seen many
curious adventures in the aistory of Hun
gary, when rival claimants contended for
it. It was once packed away in a cask by
a royal gugitive, who, in journeying thus,
lost it, but recovered it This same
king, Otto, had it forcibly taken away
from him by VVayvvode Ladisals, who
kept it three years and then was forced to
return it. In 1-139, it was stolen by a maid
of honor, at the instance ofthe widow of a
deceased monarch, who wished to have
her infant son Cfowlied with it. In 1461,
the widow pawned it to the Emperor,
Frederick IY., for 2500 guilders. It was
redeemed, but soon stolen again by an
other woman, to crown another royal clai
mant, and after several changes fell into
the hands of the Turks, whose leader, Sol.
ymati, returning from the seige of Vienna
exhibited it as the crown of the famous
Persian Kushivodn. He afterwards sent
it hack to the person from whom he obtain
ed if, and it then was given to the Embe
ror Ferdinand. After many other changes
it was sent to Hungary, by Leopold, and
and there it remained until Windiscbgratz
took Pesth, when Kossuth removed it,and
haß ever since kept it in his jrosscssiop.