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MILLED GrEVILLE
GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JUNE 7, 1859.
NUMBER 23.
XL *
r o K M E & SON,
n - ' U ' - .VD PROPRIETORS. •
jniTOR" • ■
ntB is published weekly, at thelow
-I, e RtO 8 s )eT annum, when paid in nd-
- D» 1 ' b . e - Two dollars and Fifty
, within the year, Thrki Dollars
i,i i' " j 15 cripliou received for less than six
f, ° pdwaysin advance. Remittancesby
'Metiers at our risk.
direction of tlieir paper
1- Crum what office it is to betrans-
notify
,■ insplcuously inserted at $1 00
(S iTl st ’ ,,:S vt insertion,and 50 cents per square
. |re f.>rthe hr 'j |lserl joii. Those sent without a
<'.<",„ (n be. of insertions, will be pub- ,
ion o' 1 , lt . a „,i charged accordingly.
Jlt i! iro* re , \j e ^ r nes,h_v Administrators, Exec- j
, s ..f? B .’are required by law to be ueld on
, G:i'i' <l | , . n, t 'j| e mouth, between the hours often
... r...e'day' 111 rge j I( the afternoon, at the Court j
,•[.)»* ..vhU-.i, the property is situate. No
, q,-county i I , niven in a public gazette
nf these t h e day ofsale.
B‘ n?re ‘^lVof personal Property mustbe giv-
,.f»: '" t ' ie 3a „f urevions to he day ofsale.
;esitT fX .-id Creditors ofan Estate mustbe
Ww^lTon will r>e made to the Court of
:,D3,l ‘io sell or Negroes, must be
DR. J.W. HERTY,
TENDERS HIS PROFESSIONAL
SERVICES TO THE
CITIZENS OF MILLEDGEVILLE AND
VICINITY.
OFFICE AT THE DRUG STORE OF
HERTY & GESNER.
Milledgorile, May 10, 1859 ]9
Notice of Pissolution of Special
OO-IP cLjTta.A.eZ'Sl'Ai^D,
A LL Persons are hereby notified that the Spe-
cial Copartnership heretofore existing be
tween the undersigned, under the style and firm
name of JOHN C. FRASER, has been This
Cay dissolved, by mutual consent.
JNO. C. FRASER, General Partnei
AUG. P. WETTER, Special “
Savannah. May 10, 1859 20 1m
„ 1 . lV e f,c “
■cyto- ' i c for two month?.
-. .. P f^m ...-lion mustbe pub-
t . * r,,r j. i); Sm ission from Administration,
out"? tW'for Dismission from Guardianship.
i ...rc of Mortgage mustbe publish-
:?i"’ F ' ,rei; , ° nl/ls _f 0 restablishing lost papers.
..•i>«f»r;* ,;r . km ninths—for compelling titles
'j!l tp ue ■ , ]-ninistrators, where a bond has
fitti'itori ", r . p , se J,t4e full space of three ■months.
■ .-etiRy 1 -ii^wavVbc continued according to
; r , ""i^ioirements. unless otherwise ordered
"*.■ the line of Printing will meet with
"^^'iatthe UKCQHDKROrriCE.
GROCERIES. 1859.,
m i
..; C \ii I’vGil,
nVI-TCL f° r t!le increased patronage of the
11 , - - - be<r leave to inform their friends
\ :1 :! cVtlmUhev are.still at their old stand, -
•Tr|ie Post Office, where they would be
H wait upon them with a full assortment
'I xrticles itsuallv kept iu their line of bnsi-
! (vlpeh tbev will sell as low for cash, or on
■ the- market will allow,) consisting in part
. f.(lowing articles;
;tE1YART'S A. 15- & C. SUGARS.
j. Powder'd and Loaf do.
i yt (;0STA 1HCA and RIO COFFEE.
' at MOLASSES and N. O. SYRUPS.
D,—Ham?, Shoulders & Sides—LARD.
, tial, Young Hyson and Oolong Teas.
Tobacco, | Staivh, Iron, Nails,
r . Soap, j Cast & Plow Steel,
...jinrr and Garden Hoes. Axes.
;e xn ,j Log Chains.
;i , aW ] Short Handle Shovels and Spades.
Vwurc Forks. Wooden and Hollow Ware.
Hardware and Cutlery.
Uaie, Piaster and Cement.
ie Wines, Brandies, Whiskeys,Gin and Rum.
O' ? & Varnish, and various other articles.
CALL AND SEE!!
JiM-c-ville, M»J HI, 1859 W «
fool Manufactory.
Hi MiUedgeville Manufacturing Company
•intii’s the Manufacture of their A&iL
ros)L PliLIWG KES-SSTTS, arm
, m :iv sifficir.es the future patronage of the
ants and Planters of Georgia.
will as heretofore pav particular attention
iarding-Wool Roils, and Weaving
liarseys or -Jeans.
,ia- recently purchased the wool Factor.
r!v”owned by Mr. D. A Jewell we have in-
■ jfueilities, to attend promptly to all orders
> above description.
ni forwarded to us, as well as orders for otli-
ails id"goods of our manufacture, should b.s
' t„ the MiUedgeville Manufacturing Com-
. MiUedgeville, Ga.
Wool constantly bought at full market
E. WAITZFELDER, President,
v 17, \m 20 3t
Co-Partnership Notice.
I J?dr) Da - y associated with me Mr.
WILLIAM BRAILSFORD, in the Factorage
and Commission Lusiness, and will continue the
business under the name and stvlc of JNO. C.
FRAGILER & CO.
, JNO. C. FRASHER.
Savannah, May 11, 1359 20 lm
FOR SALE.
1 CHOICE lot of BACON,
cheap fo,
l ■ ish or approved credit.
COMPl’ON & CALLOWAY.
Huy 17,1859
20 tf
AGRICULTURAL
acliinery and Implements.
Ear-’i.
Gran
Crow
gas
J *-
• m-< M< m .
GRAIN CRADLES.
and Wire braced. 5 and 6 lingers. Price o\
to 5 dollars.
SCYTHE BLADES,
di Patent, American Silver Steel. Price 75c.
to §1 15.
SICKLES' REAP HOOKS,
kudos, Scythe Stones and Rifles.
II HE A T FANS,
'-' s Patent. Exeelsior, Ac. Price IS to 4
dollars.
THRI:SUING M A CHINES,
ns Virginia, Wheeler’s and Georgia made.
Price 33 to 50 dollars.
* HORSE PORERS,
nr - and Whitman's Lever Powers, one and
1 *e Rail Road Powers. Price f 100 to f 140.
STRA W CUTTERS,
■ ami Fodder Cutters. Price 5 to 30 dollars.
CORN SHELLERS,
-nssizes and Patterns Price 6^ to 15 dollars.
WEEDING HOES, -
' B iffins', Weed's Bl ades’Patent, Clement’s
1 )'* • ‘-J Straw Rakes, Cultivators, Harrows,
B'ffin Mills, Clnirnes, Wheelbarrows,&c.,
-•olKir sale at the, lowest, prices, bv *
’11HAS WEED, Macon Ga.
; . r «U-53 20 2m
FLOOR OIL CLOTHS
JPHOLSTERY GOODS.
l! “ • s.aiber has constantly oil hand a fill'
tii 'f' vi| . tuiua t of the followings goods, to which
lu “!ttb>n of purchasers is invited.
|j, *X?J21G— English Velvet Medal
C . 1 " B 'j 1 Tapestry Y'tU’ct, English Tapestrj
( ''£• Wire, Jlrus.tels, English and American
t • ! .'* ; superfine two Ihys—all wool; and Cot
'' 0|| 1 Carpets—Hemp, Wool, Dutch, &c.
V CAB.r£T5 —Velvet, Brussels,
^ " in ami Cottun—of all widths.
< JS—Wool and Linen,from I t>
f 1 :'ei width. Bordered Crumb Cloth:
Ait,*'.? 0 ®' OXa CL03HS-JGnglisli mi
'aryiug iu width, from l of a yard L-
5 lard*
\ WA tLS‘JEar GOODS—Satin and
’ 01i!, 1 M -tE t ',iff rt»i •. J .B./v/il J r
8 and of all (jusiirios.
. SU7 L.b—
tiamasks, Cotton aud wool do.—Broca
^ Luce and Muslin Curtains.
of,'^A33S, CoaifflCBS and fixture:
1 hl lK,b,.
'■h’.i,,'? c L e ck Matting of all widths, alway
• •IkliO'S, door \1mIc & n
Tl le
‘a.oile;T nsions e,, Lries and rwms being giv
•ttra cb | . s Wl ^ car pets will be cut to fit, withoir
Vrj
l ' r tli3 ’„!•' r ' l:nce d Upholsterer wall cut, and prepare
aiiis ‘“dow, Damask, Lace and Muslin Cur-
D. LATHROP.
Ssvartt, i ~ Congress st.57 St. Julian st.
4aaah * Ga, May ID, 1S59 19 I2m
Sfotice.
L ^k.1 THE Subscriber’s HOUSE will
STfTiiittyHL ke opened for the reception of
gjaJkP— M EM BERS to the CoF*i r entioxi
~i — in June next, also for ifaSienibcrs
to the next Degisisture.-
Call and see me. E. S. CANDLER.
MiUedgeville, May 24, 1S59. 21 tf
DAXCLVG SCHOOL.
SECOND SESSION.
MONts. BERGER respectfully informs the citi
zens of MiUedgeville that lie will, by request, begin
a nevv session on Thursday the 9tli of June. Persons
wishing to join are requested to send their names
before that time.
For particulars, apply at McComb’s Hotel.
Milledgevile, April 24. 1S59 21 3t
ESxecutors’ Bale.
More than 3,500 Acres of Land.
B Y VIRTUE of authority conferred by the last
will of Samuel M. Devereaux, deceased, late
of Hancock county, we offer for sale, at private
contract, tiie following lots, viz; 139, 290, and
419, in the 1st district; No. 2fiu in the 2d dis
trict ; and Nos. 2G9, 270, 271 and 272, (four adjoin
ing lots) containing 1,220 acres in the 3d district of
originally Wayne county.
Any person wishing to purchase any of said lots
of land, will please address the subscribers at Spar
ta, Hancock county, Ga.
It not previously snld, all the above named lots
will be sold on the first Tuesday in November next,
at public outcry, at the Coyrt-house in I lie counties
in which said lots of land are now situate. In that
event, terms ofsale cash.
JOHN GRAYBILL, ? „ ,
JOHN B. RADNEY, rs '
May 17, 1859 20 tds
Uoticc to Guilders.
W ILL BE LET to the lowest bidder in the
town of \Vrighfsville, Johnson county, on
Friday the first day of July next, the building of the
Court-house and Jail for said county.
The Court-house to be a framed building, two
stories, 50 by 3t3 feet. The Jail of hewd logs 12
by 12, two stories, 21 by 1b feet. Those desirous
of bidding for this work will please cail on, or ad
dress by letter, the Clerk the Inferior Court, who
will show or make known the plan and specifica
tion of each building. Terms of letting on the day
M. O. WILLIAMSON,.!. I. C.
SOLOMON PAGE, J. I. C.
GEORGE SMITH, J. I. C.
LOTT WALKER, J. I. C.
JOSEPH C. SMITH, J. I. C.
Wrightsville, Mav 24, 1859 21 td
Levert Female College,
TALBOTTON, GA.
A GETLEMAN well qualified, is wanted to
-I take charge of and act as President of tl is
College—duties to commence on the middle of
July or first of August.
The building is a large and excellent one and
well suited to the purpose. Talbotton is a large
and thriving village, and has one of the best popu
lations in the South. There is now a flourishing
School. The place is entirely healthy and there
are few places so desirable in all respects.
A. F. OWEN,
Sec'y. of the Board of Trustees.
Talbotton, May 31, 1859 22 3f.
* A Teaelie.r Wanted !
FTHJL present teacher at Phoenix Academy hav-
J- ing, on account of ill health, tendered his resig
nation, to take effect at the close of the present
term, it has been ordered b}- the trustees that the
Secretary advertise for an instructor to take his
place. None need apply who cannot come well
recommended as to the highest scholastic attain
ments, and first rate ability to teach, as the trustees
are determined to keep the school up to its present
high standard. .
Address the undersigned at Turn wold, Putnam
Co., Ga. J. A. TURNER, Secretary.
May 31, 1859. 22 tf
POETRY.
CALL AND SEE-
T HE UNDERSIGNED would respectfully call
the attention of iiis friends and the citizens
generally., to his stock now on hand of
SADDLES AND BRIDLES,
(riding and wagon) Bridle leathers, do. Bits, com
mon and fine silver plated. IIAL TERS, single and
double Bugg-y Harness, Bag-g-y Wiiips,
and various other articles in bis line too tedious to
mention. Many of the above articles are as good
as can be put up. . Call and examine the stock, no
charge for looking. Also, will do repairing, Har
ness, Shoes and Boots. All work done iu shop war
anted to stand.
Next door North of Post-office, formerly occupied
by Mr. Staley, Tinner. F. FAIR.
MiUedgeville, Feb. 22.1859. H tf
METALIC BURIAL CASES
FOR SALE BY
S. G. PRUDEN ....Eatonton,
J. T. MARTIN ----- Sparta.
C. A. VINCENT Greenesboro.
March 29.1859 3 - ; E
FOil SALE 08 TO BEAT.
A COMFORTABLE DWELLING with
outhouses, Garden, Orchard, &e , at Mi 9*
m , ;j1 „ way. A family desiring such a-place con
venient to good Schools, would do wel) to apply at
once to the undersigned. There are about 450
acres ill the tract—200 well Wooded, near the Col-
jepe R. M. OltME, Sen.
January 4. 1859 l tf
Blanks for sale at this Office.
[Selected for the National Ilecorder.J
“MUST OXIE DIY.”
The following beautiful lines were composed by
Timothy Swan, the well known author of the cele
brated tunes “China” and “Poland,” when in the
73d year of his age. They were sent to his soa,
then a resident of New York :
“V eken, dear bairn, that, we njann part,
YV lieu death, canid death, shall bid us start;
But when lie'll send hisdreadfu’ dart
We canna say,
Sa we'll be ready for bis cart
Maist onie day.
“We’ll keep a’riglit an’ gndewi’in.
Our wark will then be free fra’ sin;
Upright we’ll step thro’ theek and thin,
Straiten our way,
Deal just wi’a’,the prize we'll win
Maist onie day.
“Ye ken there’s Arie wha’s just and w ise,
Has said that a' his bairns should rise
An’ soaraboon the lofty skies.
And there shall stay ;
Being well prepared, we’ll gain the prize
Maist onie day.
“When He wha made a'things just right,
Shall ea’ us hence to realms of light.
Be it morn, or noon, or e’en, or night,
We will obey.
We'll be prepared to ta’ our flight
Maist onie day.
“Our lamps we’ll fill brimfti’ o' oil,
1 bat’s glide and pure—that wuliia spoil;
We’ll keep them hurtlin’ a’ the while,
T°,light our way.
Our wark bein’ done we’ll quit the soil
Maist onie day.”
Fiona the Boston Post.
TIIE YEW CATECHISM,
Now generally in use in Northern Churches.
Done in Rhyme, by the “Peasant Bard.”
Stand up and let me catechise ;—
(Not on the “Shorter” plan ;
That's two “old fogy" for the wise,)—
Q-—What’s thecheif end of man !
A.—It is to think, or e’en pretend
The negro is a saint,
And blame the Maker of all flesh
For putting on the paint.
Q.—Was man created good at first ?
And did he fall from grace ?
A.—None were at first created good
Except the long heeled race.
Q.—Well, What is sin '? piy gentle friend ?
You’re posted and can tell,
A.—Sin is the’“agreement, made with death,
And convenant with Hell.”
And all who love the Union dear,
The Constitution brave,
Are sinners of the foulest sort,
Whom salt can never sa' e.
Q.—What do the Holy Scriptures teach ?
And what’s effectual calling ?
A.—They teach us nigger-liood to preach—
It’s nigger I to keep bawling.
Q.—Sanctification; what is that. ?
What, when and how begins ?
A.—It’s niggerism. Sir, throughout,
And hides a host of sins.
Q.—What is the sum of the commands
By which we must abide ?
A.—To hate thy brother at the. South,
And “let the Union slide.”
Q.—And what is faith ? iny smiling friend,
A.— Well, you don’t pose me yet ;
Faith is the evidence I have,
Enables me to bet.
It is a firm and fixed belief
That negroes will prevail,
And something good turned up for me,
And be it head or tail.
Q.—What instrument do angels play?
What song sing they above ?
(Old fogies iiseil a golden harp,
Tlieir song Redeeming Love.)
A.—Me glad you ask dat queshun, sar;—
A banjo of one string,
And nigger I nigger I is the tune
Eternally they sing.
The Wife’s Experiment.
“Ma, why don’t you ever dress up?”
asked little Nellie Thornton, as her moth
er finished brushing the child’s hair and
tying her clean apron. There was a mo
mentary surprise on Mrs. Thornton’s face;
but site answered carelessly “Oh no one
cares how 1 look.”
“Don’t Pa love to see you look pretty?”
persisted the child. The mother did not
reply, but involuntarily she glanced at her
slovenly attire, the faded and worn calico
dress and dingy apron, both bearing wit
ness to an intimate acquaintance with the
dish-pan and stove—the slipshod shoes,
and soiled stockings—and she could not
help remembering how site had that morn
ing appeared with uncombed hair, and pre
pared her husband's breakfast before he
left home for the neighboring market-town.
“Sure enough!” mused she, “how I do
look!” And then Memory pointed hack a
feW.’years to a neatly and tastefully dressed
maiden, sometimes busy in her father’s
house, again mingling with her young com
panions, but never untidy in her appear
ance always fresh and blooming ; and this
she knew, full well, was a picture of her
self when Charles Thornton first won lic-r
young heart. Such was the bride he had
taken to his pleasant home,—how had ma
ture life fulfilled the prophecy of youth?
She was still comely in features, grace
ful in form, but few would call her a hand
some or an accomplished woman ; for alas !
all other characteristics wore overshadow
ed by this repulsive trait. Yet she loved
to see others neat and her children did not
seem to belong to her, so well kept and ti*
dy did they alwaj’s look. As a house
keeper she excelled, and her husband was
long in acknowledging (o himself the un
welcome Tact that he had married an in
corrigible sloven.
When, like too many otheryoung wives,
she began to grow negligent in regard to
her dress, he readily excused her in his
own mind, and thought “she is not well,”
or, “site has so much to do,” and perceiv
ing no abatement in his kind attentions,
she naturally concluded he was perfectly
satisfied. As her family cares increased,
and site went Jess info company, she be
came still more careless of her personal
appearance, cud contented herself with
seeing that nothing was lacking which
could contribute to the comfort of her hus
band and children, never supposing that so
trivial a matter as her own apparel could
possibly affect their happiness. All thirf
chain of circumstances hitherto unthought
of passed before her, as the little prattler!
at her side repeated the query,—“Don’t Pa ‘
love to see you look pretty 1”
“Yes, my child,” she answered, and
her resolve was taken,—she would try an
experiment, and prove whether Mr. Thorn
ton was really indifferent on the subject
or not. Giving Nellie a picture hook with
which to amuse herself, she’ went to her
own room, mentally exclaiming, “at any
rate, I’ll never put on this rig again—not
even washing day.” She proceeded toiler
clothes-press and removed one after anoth
er,—some were ragged, others faded, all
out of style, and some unfit to wear,—at
length she found one which Lad long ago
been laid aside as “too light to wear about
the house.” It was a nice French print,
rose colored and white, and she remember
ed bad once been a favorite with her hus
band. The old adage, “fashions come
round in seven years,” seemed true in this
case ; for the dress wasmr.de in the then
prevailing style.
“This is just the thing.” she thought,
and hastened to perform her toilette, say
ing to herself, “I must alter my dark ging
ham to wear mornings, and get it all ready
before Charles comes home.” Then she
released her long, dark hair from its im
provement in a most ungraceful twist, and
carefully brushing its still glossy waves,
she plated it in the broad braids which
Charles used so much to admire in the days
of her girlhood.
The unwonted task brought hack many
reminiscences of those long vanished years,
and tears glistened in her eyes as she
thought of the many changes, time had
wrought in those she loved, but she mur
mured, “What hath sadnesslike the change
in ourselves we find?” In that hour she
realized how an apparently trivial fault
had gained the mastery over her, and im
perceptibly had placed a barrier between
her and the one she loved most on earth.
True, lie never chided her,—never appar
ently noticed her altered appearance,—
but she well knew lie no longer urged her
going into society, nor did he seem to care
about receiving his friends at his own
house, although he was a social man, and
had once felt proud to introduce his young
wife to his large circle of acquaintance.
Now they seldom went out together ex
cepting to church, and even dressing for
that was generally too much of an effort
for Mrs. Thornton,—she would stay at
home “to keep house,” after preparing her
little ones to accompany their father, and
the neighbors soon ceased expecting to
meet her at public worship or in their social
gatherings—and so, one bj - one, they neg
lected to call on her until but very few of
the number continued to exchange friend
ly civilities with her. She had wondered
at this, had felt mortified and pained here
tofore ; now she clearly saw it was her own
fault, the vail was removed from her eyes,
and the mistake of her life was revealed in
its true enormity. Sincerely did she re
pent of her past error, calmly and seriously
resolve on future and immediate amend
ment.
Meanwhile her hands were not idle, and
at length the metamorphosis was complete.
The bright pink drapery hung gracefully
about her form, imparting an unusual brill
iancy to her complexion—her best wrought
collar was fastened with a costly brooch,
her husband’s wedding gift, which had
not seen tiie light for many a day. Glanc
ing once more at herjmirror, to he certain her
toilette needed no more finishing touches,
she took her sewing and returned to the
sitting room.
Little Nellie had got wearied of her pic
ture-book, and was now* playing with the
kitten. As Mrs. Thornton entered she
clapped her hands in childish delight and
exclaimed, “Oh, Ma, liow pretty—pretty”
and running to her kissed her again and
again, then drew her little chair close to
her side, and eagerly watched her as she
plied her needle, leparing the gingham
dress.
Just before it was completed, Nellie’s
brothers came from school, and pausing at
the half-opened door, Willie whispered to
Charlie, “I guess we’ve got company, for
mother’s all dressed up.” It was with
mingled emotions of pleasure and pain that
Mrs. Thornton observed her children were
unusually docile and obedient, hastening
to perform their accustomed duties with
out being even reminded of them. Chil
dren are natural and unaffected lovers of
the beautiful, and their intuitive percep
tions will not often suffer from compari
son with the opinions of mature worldly
wisdom. It was with a feeling of admira
tion that these children now looked upon
their mother, and seemed to consider it a
privilege to do something for her. It was
“let me get the kindlings.” “I will make
the fire,”—and, “may I fill the tea kettle?”
—instead of, as was sometimes the case,
“need I do it?” “I don’t want to,”—“why
can’t Willie?”
Nellie was too small to render much as
sistance, but site oftened turned from her
frolic with her kitten, to look at her moth
er, and utter some childish remark expres
sive of joy and love.
At last the clock struck the hour when
Mr. Thornton was expected, and his wife
proceeded tr> lay the table with unusual
care, and to place thereon several choice
viands of which she knew he was particu
larly fond.
Meanwhile let us form the acquaintance
of the absent husband and father, whom
wcfiud in the neighboring town, just com
pleting his day’s traffic. He is a fine look
ing, middle-aged man, with an unmistaka
Lie twinkle of kindly feeling in his eye,
mid the lines of good-lmmor plainly traced
abou^his mouth—we know at a glance
that he is cheerful- and indulgent in his
family, and are at once prepossessed in his
favor.
As he is leaving the store, where he has
made his last purchase for the day, he is
accosted in a familiar manner by a tall
gentleman just entering tiie door. He
recognizes an old friend, and exclaims,
“George Morton, is it you?” The greet
ing is mutually cordial ; they were ftiends
in boyhood and early youth, but since Mr.
Morton has been practising law in a dis
tant city, they have seldom met, and this
is no place to exchange their many ques
tions and answers. Mr. Thornton's fine
span of horses and light “democrat” are
standing near by, and it needs but little
persuasion to induce Mr. Morton to accom
pany liis friend to his home which lie has
never yet visited. The conversation is
lively and spirited—they recall the feats
of their school days, and the experiences
of after life, and compare their present po
sition in the world, with the golden future
of which they used to dream. Mr. Morton
is a bachelor, and very fastidious in his
tastes—as that class of individuals are
prone to be. The recollection of this
flashes on Mr. Thornton’s mind as they
drive along towards their destination.—
At ouce his zeal in the dialogue abates,
and he becomes thoughtful and silent, and
does not urge his team onward, hut seems
willing to afford Mr. Morton an opportuni
ty to admire the beautiful scenery on ei
ther hand,—the hills and valleys clad iu
the fresh verdure of June, while the lofty
mountain ranges look bine and dim in the
distance. He cannot help wondering if
they wijl fin’d his vyifo in thq same sorry
predicament in which he left her that
morning and involuntarily shrinks from
introducing so slatternly a personage to
his refined and cultivated friend.
Bat it is now too late to retract his polite
invitation—they are entering the old
“homestead”—one field more and his fer
tile farm with its well kept fences, appears
in view. Yonder is his neat white house,
surrounding with elms and maples. They
drive through the large gateway, the man
John comes from the barn to put out the
horses, and Mr. Thornton hurries up the
walk to the piazza, leaving his leisure—he
must see his wife first, and if possible hur
ry her out of sight before their visitor en
ters. He rushes into the sitting room-
words cannot express his amazement—
here sits the very image of his lovely bride,
and a self conscious blush mantles her
cheek as he stoops to kiss her with words
of joyful surprise—“Why Ellen!” He
lias time for no more, George Morton has
followed him, and he exclaims—“Ha !
Charley, as lover-like as ever—hasn’t the
honey-moon set yet?” and then he is duly
presented to Mrs. Thornton, who, under
the pleasing excitement of the occasion,
appears to far better advantage than usual.
Tea is soon upon the table, and the gentle
men do ample justice to the tempting re
past spread before them. A happy meal it
is to Charles Thornton, who gazes with ad
miring fondness upon his still beautiful
wife. Supper over, Mr Morton coaxes
little Nellie to sit on his lap, hut she soon
slides down,and climbing her father’s knee,
whispers confidentially,-‘Don’t mama look
pretty?” He kisses her and answers, “Yes,
my darling.”
The evening passes pleasantly and
swiftly away, and many a half forgotten
smile of their life-pilgrimage is recalled by
some way-mark which still gleams bright
in tiie distance. They both feel younger
and better for their Interview, and deter
mine never to become so like strangers
again. Mr. Morton’s soliloquy, as he re
tires to the cosy apartment appropriated to
his use is, “Well, this is a happy family !
What a lucky fellow Charley is—shc!» a
handsome wile and children—and she so
good a housekeeper, too ! Maybe I’ll set
tle down some day myself”—which pleas
ing idea that night mingled with his vis
ions.
The next morning Mr. Thornton watch
ed his wife’s movements with some anxiety
—he could not bear to have her destroy
the favorable impression which he was
certain she had made on his friend’s mind,
and yet some irresistable impulse forbade
his offering any suggestion or alluding in
any way to the delicate subject so long mi-
mentioned between tlieir:. But Mrs. Thorn
ton needed no friendly advice, with true
womanly tact she perceived the advan
tage she had gained, and was not at all in
clined to relinquish it. The dark gingham
dress, linen collar and snowy apron formed
an appropriate and becoming morning at
tire for a housekeeper ; and the table affor
ded the guest no occasion for altering his
opinion iu regard to the skill or affability
of his amiable hostess. Early in the fore
noon, Mr. Morton took leave of Iris hospita
ble friends, being called away by pressing
affairs of business.
Mr. and Mrs. Thornton returned to their
accustomed avocations, but it was with re
newed energy, and a new sense of quiet
happiness, no less deeply felt because un
expressed. A day or two afterwards Mr.
Thornton invited his wife to accompany
him to town, saying he thought she might
like to do some shopping ; and she, with uo
apparent surprise, but with heartfelt pleas
ure, acceded to the proposal. The follow
ing Sabbath the village gossips ban ample
food for their hungey eyes (to be digested
at the next sewing society,) in the appear
ance of Mis. Thornton at church clad in
plain hut rich costume, an entire new out
fit, which they- could not deny “made her
look ten years younger.”
This was the beginning of the reform, |
and it was the dawning of a brighter day
for the husband and wife of our story.—
True, habits of such long standing are not
conquered in a week or a month, and very
often was Mrs. Thornton tempted to yield
to their long-tolerated sway ; but she
fought valiantly against tlieir influence,
and in time she vanquished them. An
ah- of taste and elegance, before unknown,
now pervaded their dwelling, and year af
ter year the links of affection which uni
ted them as a family grew brighter and
purer; ever radiating the holy light of a
Christian home.
But it was not until many years had
passed away, and our little Nellie, now a
lovely maiden, was about to resign her
place as pet in her father’s household, and
assume a new dignity in another’s home,
that her mother imparted to her the story
of her own early errors, and earnestly
warned her to beware of that insidious foe
to domestic happiness—disregard of Utile '
things,*— and kissing her daughter with ma-.
ternal pride and fondness, she thanked her
for those simple, child like words, which
had changed the whole current of her des
tiny—“Don't Pa like to see you look pretty?
AN ILLUSTRIOUS BRITISH EXILE.^
AX AUSTnAAlAN SKETCH.
A few years ago, I made the acquain- j
tance of an elderly lady, whose husband,
so far hack as 1799, held an official posi
tion, both civil and military, in the colony
of New South Wales. Many anecdotes
she told me of the celebrated characters
who had, in the word ol one of them, “left j
their country for their country’s good.”—
With most, if not with all, of those celc
brities the old lady had come in contact
personally.
“One morning,” she began, “I was sit
ting in my drawing-room with two little
children, who are now middle-aged men
with large families, when a gentleman was
announced. I gave the order for his ad
mission; and on his entering the door of
the apartment, I rose from my chair and \
greeted him with a bow, which lie returned
in the most graceful and courtly manner ;
imaginable. His dress was that of a man
of fashion, and his bearing that of a person
who had moved in tho highest circles of
society. A vessel had arrived from Eng
land a few days previously with passeu-
gers, and I fancied that this gentleman
was one of them. I asked him to be seat
ed. lie took a chair opposite to me, and
at once entered into conversation, making
the first topic the extreme warmth of the
day, and the second the healthful appear
ance of my charming children—as he was
pleased to speak of them. Apart from a
mother liking to hear her children praised,
there was such a refinement in the stran
ger’s manner, such a seeming sincerity in
all Tie said, added to such a marvelous
neatness of expression, that I conld not
help thinking he would form a very valu
able acquisition to our list of acquaintan
ces, provided he intended remaining in
Sidney, instead of settling in the interior
of the colony.
“I expressed my regret that the major
(my hnsband) was from home; but I men
tioned that I exprected him atone o’clock,
at which hour we took luncheon; and I
further expressed a hope that our visitor
would remain and partake of the meal.—
With a very pretty smile (which I after
wards discovered had more meaning in it
than I was at the time aware of,) he fear
ed he could not have the pleasure of par
taking of the hospitalities of my table, but,
with iny permission, he would wait till the
appointed hour—which was then near at
hand. Our conversation was resumed; and
presi-ntly he asked my little ones to go
to him. They obeyed at once, albeit they
were shy children. This satisfied me that
the stranger was a man of a kind and gen
tle disposition. He took the children,
seated them on his knees, and began to
tell them a fairy story, (evidently of bis
own invention, and extemporised,) to
which they listened with profound atten
tion. Indeed, I conld not help being in
terested in the story, so fanciful were the
ideas, and so poetical the language in
which they were expressed.
“The story ended, the stranger replaced
the children on the carpet, and approach
ed tiie table on which stood.in a porcelain
vase, a bouquet of flowers. These lie ad
mired, and began to discourse on floricul
ture. I listened with intense earnestness,
so profound were all his observations. We
were standing at the table for at least
eight or ten minutes; my boys hanging on
to the skirt of my dress, and every now
and then compelling me to beg them to be
silent.
“One o’clock came, but not the major.—
I received, however, a note from him, writ
ten in pencil on a slip of paper. He would
be detained at Government House until
half past two.
“Again I requested the fascinating strau-
ger to partake of luncheon, which was now
on the table in the next room; and again,
with the same winning smile he declined.
As he was about, as I thought, to depart, I
extended my hand; but to my astonish
ment, he stepped back, made a low bow,
and declined taking it.
“For a gentleman to have his hand re
fused when he extends it to another is em
barrassing enough; but for a lady ! Who
can possibly describe what were my feel
ings? Had he been the heir to the British
throne, visiting that penal settlement in
disguise, (and from tho stranger’s manners
and conversation lie might have been that
illustrious personage) he could scarcely
have, under the circumstances, treated
me in such an extraordinary manner. I
scarcely knew what to think. Observing,
as the stranger must have done, the blood
rush to my cheeks, and being cognizant,
evidently, of what was passing through my
mind, lie spoke as follows:
“ “Madam, I am afraid you will never for
give me the liberty I have taken already.
But the truth is, the passion snddenly stole
over me,and I could not resist the temptation
of satisfying myself that the skill which
made me so conspicuous iu the mother
country still remained to me in this con
vict land.”
“I stared at him but did not speak.”
“Madam,” he continued, “the penalty
of sitting at table with yon, or taking the
hand yon paid the compliment to proffer
me—yourself in ignorance of the fact I am
about to disclose—would have been the
forfeiture of my ticket-of leave, a hand
led .’ashes, and employment on the roads
in irons. As it i.** I dread the Major’s
wrath; but I cherish the hope that
you will endeavor to appease it, if ypnr
advocacy he only a return for the brief
amusement I afforded yotrr beautiiul chil
dren.”
“You area convict?” I said indignantly,
my band on the bell-rope.
“Madam,” he said, with an expression
of countenance which moved me to pity.in
spite of my indignation, “hear me for one
moment.”
“A convicted felon, how dared you en
ter mv drawingroom as a visitor?” I ask
ed him, my anger again«geftit]g the better
of all my other feelings.
“The Major, madam,” said the stranger,
requested me to heat his house the hour when
I presented inyself; and he bade me wait if
he were from home when I called. The
Major wishes to know’who was the person
who received from me a diamond necklace
which belonged to the Marekioness of
Dorrington, and came into my possession
at a state ball some four or five years ago
—a state ball at which I had the honor of
being present. Now, madam,, when the
orderly who opened the front door inform
cd me that the Major was not at heme, bnt
that you were, that indomitable iwpndcnce
which so often carried me into the drawing
rooms of the aristocracy of oulr Soon try,
took possession of me; and, warmed as I
was with generous wine—I determined to
tread once more on a lady’s carpet, and
enter into conversation with her. That
much I felt the Major wonld forgive me;
and, therefore, I requested the orderly to
announce a gentleman. Indeed madam, I
shall make the forgiveness of t.ie liberties
I have taken in this room the condition of
my giving that information which shall re
store to the Marchioness of Dorrington
the gem of which I deprived her—a gem
which is still unpledged, and in the pos
session of one who will restove k ©n an ap
plication, accompanied by a letter in my
handwriting.”
“Again I kept silence. x
“Madam!” he exclaimed somewhat iin-
passioncdly, and rather proudly, “I am
uo other man than Barrington, the illustri
ous pickpocketand this is tiie hand
which in its day has gently pfticked from
ladies of rank aud wealth, jewels which re
alized, in all, upwards of thirty-five thous
and pounds, irrespective of those which
were in my possession, under lock and
key. when fortune turned her back upon
me.”
“Barrington, the pick-pocket!” Hav
ing heard so much of this man aud Iris ex
ploits (although, of course, I had never
seen 1rim) I could not help regarding him
with curiosity; so ranch so, that I conld
scarcely be angry with him any longer.
“Madam,” ho continued, “I have told
you that I longeff^satisfy inyself wheth
er that skill which rendered me so illus
trious in Europe- still, remained to me in
this conutry. altes- live-years of desuetude^
I can conscieutioitfdly say that I am. jiust as
perfect in the art, that? the toueh is just as
soft and the nerve as steady as when I sat
in the dress circle at Drury Lane or Covent
Garden.
“I do not comprehend yon, Mr. Barring
ton,” I replied (2 conld not help saying
Mister.)
“Bnt yoq will madam, in one moment.—
Where are your keys T’
“I felt my pocket, in which I fancied
they were, and discovered that they were
gone.
“And your thimble and pencil-case, and
yonr smelling salts? They are here T—*
(He drew them from bis coat pocket.)
“My anger was again aronseil. It was
indeed, l thought, a frightful liberty for a
convict to practice Iris skill npon me, and
put his hand into the pocket of my dress.
But, before I could request him to leave-tho
room and the house, be spoke again; and.
as soon as I heard his voice and looked in
bis faee, I was molified, and against my
will, as it were, obliged to listen to him.
“Ah, madam,’ be sighed, ‘snch is the
change that often comes ov€r the affairs of
men ! There was a time when ladies
boasted of having been robbed by Barring
ton. Many whom I never robbed gave
itonttliat I had done so; simply that they
might be talked about. Alas! such is the
weakness of poor human nature that some
people care not by what means they asso
ciate their names with the name of any
celebrity. 1 was in power then, not in
boudage. ‘Barrington has my diamond
ear-rings!’ once exclaimed the old Countess
of Kettlebank, clasping her hands. Her
ladyship’s statement was not true. Iier
diamonds were paste, and she knew it, and
I caused them to be returned to her. Had
yon not a pair of very small pearl-drops in
your cars this morning, madam V
“I placed my hands to my ears, and
discovered that the drops were gone.—
Again my angry returned, aud I said,
‘How dared you, sit, place your fiugers
upon my faee Y
“Upon my sacred word and honor, mad
am,’ he replied, placing his band over Iris
left breast, and bowing, ‘I did nothing of
the kind ! The ear ia the most sensitive
part of the human body to the touch of
another person. Had I touched your ear
my hope of having these drops in my waist
coat pocket would have been gone. It
was the springs only that I touched, and
the drops fell into the palm cf my left
hand.’ lie placed the ear-rings on the
table, and made me another low bow.
“And when did you deprive me of them?’
I asked him.
“When I was discoursing on floricul
ture, you had occasion several times to in
cline your head towards your charming
children and gently reprove them for in
terrupting me. It was on one of those oc
casions that the deed was quietly done.—
.The dear children were the unconscious
confederates in my crime-«-if crime you
still consul r it—since I have told you,
and I spoke the truth; that it was not for
the sake of gain, but simply- to satisfy a
passionate curiosity. It was as delicate
and difficult an operation as ever I per
formed in the whole coarse of iny profes
sional career/ .
There was a peculiar quaintness of humor
and action thrown into this speech; I
conld not refrain from laughing. But, to
my great satisfaction, the Hfristricms pick
pocket did not join in the lafigh. He regar
ded me with a look of extreme hnmiliiy,
and maintained a respectful silence, which
was broken by aloud knocking at the out
er door. It was the major who, snddenly
remembering his appointment with Bar
rington, had contrived to make his escape
from the Government House, in order to
keep it. The major seemed rather snr-
priserl to find Barrington in my drawing-
room ; but lie was in such a hnrry, and
so anxious, that he said nothing on the sub
ject.
I withdrew to the passage, whence I
could over hear all that took place.
USow, look here, Barrington,” said my
husband, irtipefUonsly, “1 will have no
more nonsense. As i for a free pardon, or
even a conditional pardon, at present, it is
out of the question. In getting you a thick-
et-of leave I have done all fliat I possibly
can ; and, as I am a living foan, I give
yon a fair warning that if yotf do not keep
faifh with me, I will Wndo What I have al
ready done. A free pardon!* W r hat?
Let yon loose upon the - society of Eng
land again ? The Gofortfel* Secretary
would scout the idea/ and severely censnre
the Governor for recommending snch a
thing. You know, a’s Well as I do, that if
yon return to England to-morrow, and had
an income of five thousand a year, yon
would never be able fo keep those fingers
of yonr quiet.
“Well, I think you are right, major,”
said the illustrious personage.
“Then you will write the letter at once ?”
“I will. But on one condition.”
“Another condition V'
“Yes.”
“Well, what is that Condition ? You
have so many conditions that I begin to
think the necklace Wi& rtof be forthcoming
after aff. And, if it be rtot, by ’
“Do not excite yodtaslf to anger, major.
I give you my honor—~ »”
“Yonr honor * Nonsense ? What 1, want
is, the jewel restored fo its owner.”
“And it shall be, on condition that you
will not be offended, grievously offended
with me, for what I have done this day !”
“Wbat is- that ?”
“Summon yonr good wife, and let her
bear witness both for and against me.”
“My husband opened the drawing room
door and called out ‘Bessie ?”
“As soon as T. had made my appearance,
Barrington stated the ease-—all that had
transpired—-with minute accuracy ; nay,
more, be acted the entire scene in such
way that it becamea little comedy in itself;
the characters being himself, myself, and
the children, all ef wWefr characters be rep
resented with such humor, that my hnsband
and myself were several times •« fits of
laughter. Barrington, however did not
even smile. He affeetedto regard the little
drama (and this made it the more amnsing)
as a very serious business.
“This play over, my husband again put
to Barrington the question r “Will you
write that letter at once,”
“Yes,” lie replied, *J wilT ; for I see that
I am rogiven tiie liberty I was tempted to
take/ And seating himself at the table
he wrote:
«• 3§r. Barrington presents he comple
ments- to Mr. ■ anti requests that a
sealed packet, marked D. N. No. 27, .be
immediately deHaeied the bearer of this
uote. Iu the event of this request not
being complied with, Mr. Barrington will
have an opportunity ere long of explain
ing to Mr. , in Sydney*