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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*