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Volume LIL — the loutbent fUtatdot. BT t L EAESISON, OEMS & CO. BiSCOJI mi KICK. Editor Tecs- $2.00 Per Annum in Advance. bates of advertising. , , $1.00 I $-.26 J 1.75 ( 6.00 , 1 2.00 j 7.00 . 3.60 I 9-00 : J 4-00 I 12.00 Lol 0.00 ' 15.00 L>) 10.00 26.00 lool 20.00 50.00 $7.50 12.00 16.00 26.00 28.00 84.00 60.00 80 CO yt $12.00^20.00 18.00 28-00; 35.00 40.00 50.00 80.00 120.00 80.00 40.00 50.00 60.00 75.00 120.00 160.00 HGiL ADVERTISUMJ. Ordinary'}■—Citations for letters cl ad■niuistration,guardianship, &c. $ 3 00 Homertead notice...... * "V Applicationtor diBin’n from adm n.. 5 00 Application for dism’n of guard n..., 3 50 Application for leave to sell Land.... 5 00 Notice to Debtors aud Creditors 3 00 8aies of Land, per square of ten lines 5 00 Sale of personal per sq., ten days.... 1 50 shfTt jr s -Each levy of ten lines,.... 2 50 Mirt-’iigo sales of ten lines or less.. 5 00 Tii Collector's sales, (2 months.... 6 00 C'icrt’i—Foreclosure of mortgage and other monthly'6, per square 1 00 K e tr&y notices,thirty days 3 00 Sales of Land, by Administrators, Execu tory Guardians, are required, by law to ba held on the first Tuesday in the month, brfirccn the hours of ten in the forenoon nil three in the afternoon, at the Court house in the county in which the property is situated. Notice of these sales must be published 40 days previous to the day of 6ale: Notice for the sale of personal property must ue published 10 days previous to sale day.. Notice to debtors and creditors, 40 days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell land, 4 weeks. Citations (or letters of Administration. Guardianship, &c., must be published 30 days—for dismission from Administration, mn’mA/ji sir months, for dismission from guar dianship, 40 dsys. Rules for foreclosure of Mortgages must be published monthly for four months—for establishing lost papers, for the full space of tine months—for compelling titles from Ex ecutors or Administrators, where bond has been given by the deceased, tho fall space of three months. • - - • Application for Homestead to bn published twice in the space of ten consecutive days. JOB PRINTINGr mmasEviLLE, seorsia, Tuesday April is, i87i Number 15. IN ALL STYLES & COLO RS, SOUTHERN RECORDER AND Southern Times & Planter, BOOK AND JOB PRINTING OFFICE, l^illecLgeville. AND Sparta- G-a EXPECTORANT, For the Speedy Relief A!U) PERMANENT CURE OP Consumption, JBrorLclYitis, ASTBWSA, GOLDS, AND ALL DISEASES OF THE LINGS,CHEST OR THROAT! fpHE EXPECTORANT is composed ex- A tluslvely of Herbal aud /Mucilaginous products, which / Peiratile tie rs/j Suite of tie Lungs, causing them to throw of the acrid matter •rich collects in the Bronchial Tubes, and at j e same time forms a soothing coating, re- irritation which produces the The object to be obtained is to cleanse the organ »n impurities; to nourish and rengthen it when it has become impaired . enieebied by disease ; to renew and invig- oruf the circulation of the blood, and EXPt/rTm, tl t‘i,^ er , vot18 organisation. The i AiCTORANT does this to an astonishing :d*'** l l ” active but mild and congenial, .Y* n ‘^ functional energy and natural k!«i Oxygen to vitalise the &n ^ Nitrogen to assimilate the matter— Banalizes the "Nervous Jnflueiioa,” Ptoducmg quiet and composure. To CONSUMPTIVES v‘ n&c ! e ’ 61 !k imn »ediately relieves the ‘Uends th e e Se and harassin ^ coa S h which FOR ASTHMA •peeifie'-oiie dose often relieving the * n< ^ producing calm and fob croup ElpvpTrfn^v,^,^ 6 . ^‘•'Nout a bottle of the “uraer^ in l ^ e Nouse. We hsve 0? cert }® ca *«* °f its having relieved, y ’ '‘ kt ^ 6 sufferer, when death ‘PP^red simost inovitable. Mothers be advzsedi l««p It Hand ! n iooc^i requires prompt action ippw hoarse, hollow conghii heard, Pyth* remedy .and it is easily subdued ; T DELAY IS DANGEROUS! AkT J he P r °P«rties of the EXPECTOR- Motbi. demulcent, •Jitem*/ he *l in lf- « oraces the nervous •tap ° d pr0(luceB pleasant and refreshing 'TlXHUARATESAND relieves ROOMINESS AND DEPRESSION- these qualities in a con 10 ta the J eonee ntrated form, it has proven !,! S ? VALUABLE ldng balsam tan* to sufferers from Pulmonary dis- Pr «pusd by W. HTUTT ALAND, mARA Itld b? ID...... - AUGUSTA, GA mSSQSl E ™jwlure. 18 dm, INVITE THE ATTENTION OF the Public generally, to Qur extensive and well fitted Jfolj 1?tinting (Dfflces.. Our facilities for Executing T3003£ AND JOB PRINTING. are as good as those of any Office in the coun try, having a large lot of types in onr two : Extensive Establishments. CARDS. WEDDING, AND EVERY OTHER KIND. os CoisomsBy m iPBUCIBS- WE keep on hand all the time a full supply of Legal 131 a 11 k s> Sheriff’s, Ordinary’s, Clerk’s, Mag istrate’s, and Law Blanks, of every kind Printed on the Best Paper, and at Low Prices. Book Printing. AS we have a FINE lot of the, BEST TYPE and a No. 1. Power Press, we are fully prepared to ex ecute as nice Book-work as any 7 one. Call and give us a trial aud be con vinced. BILL HEADS, ETC., In the line of Bill Heads, Letter Heads aud Circulars, we are prepared as heretofore, to execute neat work, on favorable terms, and we guarantee that our work will be equal to that performed in any of the larger cities : so that our Law yers and Merchants need not send off to have such work done. Send in your Orders. POSTERS, PROGRAMMER, HOUSE-BILLS, k. These Offices will be found to be equal to anything in tire Stale. Par ties have but to call and Examine to be convinced. CALL ON OR ADDRESS R. A. Harrison & Co. Ba&&B^OBVXXAB OR To My Mother. BY CORILLB. I love to see thee sitting there, Quietly in that old arm chair; With folded hands, and half-closed eye, Dreaming of days long, long, gono by; Treading again in Fancy’s glow The pleasant paths of “Long Ago.” Thy hand fs weak and shrivelled now And time has farrowed deep thy brow; Has ditunied the lustre of thine eyes, And blanch’d thy lips with many sighs; Blown from thy cheek its roses fair, And whitened o’er thy silken hair. Thy hand is weak with toil for me, But mine it strong to work for thee; Thiue eye is dim with watchful tears,— I'll be thy sight in failing yeais; My arm shall thy faint steps support, Mako smooth thy path, and cheer thy heart- Thou gav’st me life and all I have. I’ll nourish theo e’en to the grave; None can replace if it be gone The love, the care, so long my own; To craving spirit earth doth lend, But only once so true a friend. ’Twas thou who cheered my life with love, And watched my hearf like brooding dove; Who taught me pleasing voice to shun, And showed how honor's fruits were won; And if men wisdom find in me, ’Tis but reflected here from the. Thine eye could trace some good in me, When others only ill could see; And when my latest hope was gone, Thy stronger spirit love me on; And if success .attend my path, Tis but in answer to thy faith. ’Twas thou in infancy and youth Taught me of God, and Heaven, and Truth; And if this willful, wayward heart, E’er finds in Heaven its better part, O Mother! it will be thy prayer That turned my wandering,footsteps thero A Wife to her Husband- If I Lave sought by art the gifts Of nature to supply; Or, ever asked for beauty’s charm, 'Twas but to ploase tlnne eye. If I with labor strove to make The stores of learning mi]ne, Twas that I might befittingly, As thy companion shine. Pisttltoms. If I have seemed with tireless zeal To seek for earthly fame, Twas that thy heart with pride might At mention of my name. The praise of other lips than thine Is less than nought to me; I know no world where thou art not, N o life apart from thee. thrill, The True Woman. Her name shines not in bannered fields, Where rights and wrongs so boldly war,; Nor rings her voice in any cause Which men and women battle for ; Yet in her presence, subtle, sweet, You long to kneel and kiss her feet. No wondrous romance wreathes her life; Nor hath she led a martyr train ; Nor beautiful nor rich is she, But poor—and some would call her plain ; Yet in her two dear eyes you see A beauty shining constantly. No silken robe enfolds her form; No dainty leisures hath her hands; Her jewels are a single ring ; A ribbon binds her hair’s smooth bands; Yet in her garment’s simple graeo Her soul’s regality you trace. No gift hath she to shake and thrill A thankless world with warbled songs; And art that wakes the ivory keys To other hands than hers’ belongs ; Yet in her words of tender cheer A richer music charms the ear. She walks in humble ways of life That lead oft times through gloom and shade; And cares and crosses not a few, Are on her patient shonlders laid, Yet smiles and drinks the bitter cap, Aud keeps her brave oyes lifted up. And homely ways she wreathes with grace, Harsh duty turns to loving zest; And cheery hopes and steadfast will Are at her side in work and rest; Yet never dreams she who can spy The angel looking from her eye. 8. SPARTA. A GA P One of our young acquaintances, not long since, was endeavoring to enjoy an evening in the company of a young lady, fair and entertaining, upon whom he called, but found a serious obstacle in the person of her stern and not very cordial father, who at length ventured to very plain ly iutiinate that the hour for retiring had arrived. “I think you are cor rect, my dear sir,” returned the un abashed man, “we have been wait ing to have you go to bed for over an hour.” He did not wait much lon ger, however. At a wedding recently, when the officiating priest asked the lady, “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband ?” she dropped the pretties* courtesy, and with a mod esty whieh lent her beauty and ad ditional grace, replied, “If you please.” Greely wrote something about “Suburban Journalism Advancing.” The compositor thought it was one of his agricutural articles and launch* ed out wildly on “Superb Jerusalem artichokes,” {The following Story, written by 4 ftftoi Southern venter, is endtotdas a competitor for the 1100-00 prize sffatHy Messrs. R. A. JT«r- rison $ Bro.,for “The best erigmal contri bution” furnished their papers, during the pres ent year. HIST2B8S CHAPTER IX. “Bid Elsie come to me,” I heard my uncle say to Janet; and well knowing that he had been consulting with my aunt about my welfare, knees trembled under me. Not Not often of late, had he bidden me come into his presence, though often he had made me seek the company of Janet, or more haply, mine own sorrow in ray room. Twice had I seen strange men; and one, a sea faring man, closeted with him for hours together; and of late, my aunt had overlooked her linen closets, parcelling off such things, as she told Janet, would do for me. “Dear little mistress, let Janet straighten thy gown,” the kind crea ture said ; and when she had so done, she sent me as my uncle bade her do—saying gently, “Do not look so down-hearted, good Mis tress Elsie; it seems to me the tears be standing in thine eyes already.” Never before had the greatness of my uncle’s wig and chain so awed me; never had the majesty of his presence so impressed me ; and the distance between his chair and my position on the hearth, seemed mag nified lour-fold. At first I did not dare look up; but presently I breath ed more easy, and turned my eyes towards him, wailing his good plea sure to address me; for it is not mannerly to speak before our eld ers—the more if they be great folk like my uncle, set off with wigs and chains. His look was better than, of late, had been its habit; and some little hope came to me, as I thought, “who knoweth but he hath softened toward my dear John Gray”—finding him so comely in his demeanor—“and hath sent to inform me thereof;” but full soon, all such happy frame departed from me; for he spoke, and on this fash- opportunity was come to beseech bis mercy; so I just put my bands together, as I clasp them to say my prayers,—may God pardon mineof*' der shepherd’s training.” “Elsie, maiden, I have a few things to say unto thee, and to acquaint thee with ; and which ’Lis needless to re mind thee, that thou as my ward, shalt see fit to observe. Hast heard me ?” I bowed my head. “Of late, no little injury hath come to me through thee”— I raised my eyes to his in sudden fear. —“Leastwise through thine ac quaintance, one John Gray!” Some new grace seemed given me to say fearlessly, “He was betrothed to me, before 1 ever saw thee, dear uncle!” “Hear the shameless maid, to speak such like, so openly!” my aunt cried. “Fcace woman, leave the matter in mine own hands,” he said, with great sternness; and in the moment’s calm, I heard a faint sound in the hall like Janet hovering at the door. “I made no marvel at thy being betrothed to a shepherd boy, when he was equal with thee ; but since thou art come to abide with me, it behooves thee to look higher !” His tone was not unkind—though full positive his manner—and he seemed to wait to hear what effect his words had upon me. They had none; so I held my peace. “Hast any answer to make me on that matter?” he asked at length, as if weary of my silence. “Dear sir,” said I, “miue eyes can look no higher than my dear John Gray; I have nothing else to anwser.” “Then hark ye, my modest maid en, ’tis time that we—that is, thine aunt and me—looked higher for thee; no man or boy shall grace a prison-house, and then come wed my niece!” I knew whose hand it was had pul John into prison : I knew whose hand might take take him there from ; and I thought that now my fence—and turned towards him.' Something like a sob fell upon my ear, from the door-way, but 1 drd not heed any thing save the prayer on my lips in behalf of my dear love. <rr Tis not his nature t<#be in such a place, dear sir; ’tis no fault of his. He was a harmless shepherd boy, and most kind to every one, when mine own letter—writ to waru him from reading the gospels on the hill sides—brought him into such woful lot as is bis dwelling now!’ “Good man how can you list to such dissenting talk ?” my aunt ex- claimed, waxing very wroth. “Good woman, 1 know mine own business, without thy prompting!” but 1 saw that his face showed no signs of the mercy I besought, and I drew nigher to his chair. “Have pity on him, kind, good sir, have pity; and I will promise thee to go with him to the eod of the world, and never vex thee more with my presence!” “A pretty tale to travel up and down the street—the Magistrate’s niece has wedded ‘the jail bird !’ my aunt cried, in great displeas ure; but I only looked into my uncle’s face, nor heeded one word she said. It seemed as though 1 was asking for mine own life, and that the verdict tarried a far ways off, on purpose. Poor sorrowful heart, that should beat in a childish bosom wiih all the restless care of greater age—that should be blighted, as the untimely hoar frost blights the early leaves, in spring-time! “Peace gu - L” I taorj «* “peace once and for aye; ’tis a mat ter of my conscience: and I will a- bide by it under all trials,- when I enforce the laws on such stubborn folk. Canal promise me lie will de sist if I let him go ?” But I knew that I could not prom ise, yet it seemed a cruel thing to shut him out from air and sun shine, leaving him to die by slow degrees—breathing the noisome riv er vapor. “Peace, once for all, hear ye ?”— there was little danger I should fever cease to hear his words ringing in my ears—“And now list well to my words, for I have a goodly message for thee—more gracious than such ill manners deserve ! A noble gen- tleman beyond the sea, hath sent asking thy hand in marriage—a right noble gentleman, as puls thy shep herd lad to the blush, for very shame of quality—and he dwells in the col ony of his Majesty, the King. I have seen fit to accept this worthy propo sal in thy behalf, and have sent him an answer to the purport that thou wilt be bis faithful wife, and strive to be obedient to his slightest wish— knowing the honor he hath done thee, to seek thee from such dis tance, and to wed thee on my s:ate- ment of thy comely looks and gentle breeding. All this have l done for thee, out of mine exceeding love, and—” But I stayed his words, by kneel ing at his feet—my arms twined a- bout him, and my face raised to his, the while I cried— “Dear, dear uncle, lake those words back; take them clear away, for the love of God! I pray thee thank the gentleman for his courte ous proposal—but I beg thee on my knees to be good to Elsie, and make known to him how all my heart is gone to another!” “Tilly-vally, PH hearken to no such words!” he said angrily, and he made as though he would have loosed my arms, “Pll not give in to any such fool’s deed, as breaking off this fair alliance!” “For her sake, oh, my uncle! that left me to thy love and care, bring not ibis great sin upon me!” “What sin, thou distraught maid en ?” “The sin of loving another better than her husband! O spare Elsie from such grievous wrong,” I cried, and as 1 spoke 1 put my lips to his hand and laid my cheek against his knee. “Spare thee, fiddle-slicks!” he exclaimed, his voice so harsh and loud, I crouched down lowlier yet “ ’Tis all a story hatched from yon •'“No story, indeed ; I tell no false hood, good kind sir. ’Tis only late ly that I promised to love him for ever and fi^ver!” Was there no remembrance in his ■“*Ji heart of a time he once had loved some one—not the cold silent wo man beside him—but some gentle little maiden ? Was there no memo ry in his heart? Did nothing stir the waters that now moved slow and turbid in age, recalling his sister who had so loved hitn, when they played together on the hills and in the coun try lanes, before ever the glare and wickedness of the great city had hardened it alike to love and truth ? Not one memory of those days seem ed to haunt him ; not one to touch him for my misery—for the lone some, friendless maid, more child than woman, who knelt down at his feet, her face well nigh the floor in the anguish of her supplication. “I will give him up—wilt never look upon his face, if thou but leave me to love him all my life and do no sin in loving him,” I cried; and put my hands together and looked into his face as I shall never look in to another, until l go from hence; but I saw no pity there—no sign of relenting from his fixed purpose— and gradually his features faded to me, and 1 heard as coming from a distant place, the words— “Take the maiden out from my sight, and let me not be so torment ed with her importunities!” Some motherly arms lifted me up gently, and I felt my head laid a- gainsl a woman’s breast. No dead irtiui cttu.e over me in mercy blotting out my suffering, only a numbness— a dimness of sight, and the weary world seemed fuller of weariness than ever. Janet laid me upon her own bed, and I could hear Donnel and herself moving about me softly—she minis tering to me, as she would have done to her own dead child ; and he, rough serving man, walking aS light ly as he knew how, and speaking in whispers to Janet—one upon ei* ther side the cot. “Janet, my woman,” he said gent- y, “ ’tis only to-day that I can say, ‘God’3 holy will be done, and His name be praised,’ that he saw fit to take from you and me, our own little maiden.” Aye, Donnel,” was the smother ed answer, as she smoothed the pil low with her hand—“we w'ould ha’ loved her better than this!” Show ing how the poor woman yet clung to her child, submissive in obedi ence, yet not to praise. ( To be continued.) A S2LFUL LITTLE ENfiDTEEB. On the first of January, 1830, a few friends in Newcaatle-on-Tyne, England, met for the trial of a new steam-engine, built by Mr. Robert Stephenson, for the Liverpool railway. Railways and loco motives were at that time great novel ties. He was pronounced to be a great mechanic, but a member of the party undertook to introduce to them one still more extraordinary. The next morning, on one of his friends calling upon him, he brought out a tumblerglass with its contents. In this glass prison was a lit tle scarlet-colored spider, whose beauty, with its bright yellow nest on a spring of lanrustinus, had induced a young lady to pluck it from the bush where it was growing. When brought into the house, it was placed on the mantlepiece, ar d secured by a glass being placed over it. In tbe course of a very short time, this most wonderful little engineer con trived to accomplish tbe herculean task of raising the spring of laurustinns, a weight several hundred times greater than itself, to the npper part of the glass, and attaching it there so firmly that, af ter thirty six years, it it is still suspen ded where it was bung by the spider. In the Bible we read: “The spider layeth hold with her hands, and is in kings’ palaces but in its glass prison there was nothing for it to lay hold of— no peg, or beam, on which to fasten its threads; yet in a short time the little insect bad nearly filled the interior of tbe glas* with minute, almost invisible threads, by means of which it bad ac complished its task. It is believed that this kind of spider alwayB deposits its nest upon trees, and never upon tbe ground ; and such may have been the reason for its wonderful effort to raise the branch to tbe upper part of tbe glass. It may still be seen, dead and dry, hanging by one of its tbroadsfrom the top of its prison house, with its little nest npon • leaf of the Uuruetinus, «... Tbe gnglishm&n’s Fox 'Uni The Washington Capitol has a racy account of how the Joint High Commis sion, were treated to a fox hunt—a real fox and real (carriage) horses having been provided for" the occasion. The weather was bad, unfortunately. As a punning friend of our Washington cor respondent remarked, “it continued to reyncurd (rain bard) all day.” But the jovial fox ’unters managed to keep as wet within as without and so staved off the iafineoza and tbe rheumatism. On acriviag at the residence of Mr. Suit, somi six miles from Washington, where the hunt was to take place, the .hunters -punched and lunched—the punches being ’ot, as the weather was “blarsted Cold, you know.” Then the party mountel, the fox was turned ont the bog and started with a yim, and the hounds let loose. The Patriot tells the tale of this lively dido, in which it will be seen the learned Akerman flour ished: “The fox, with great good taste, kept running round the baronial castle, and as the hunters kept after him, it was hard to tell whether the hunters were chasing the fox or tho fox chasing the hunters. As for the hounds, they un fortunately took after some Southdown mutton that they happened to see in a distant field, and they didn’t get back for a week. Tbe hunt continued around tbe house, and tbe fox would undoubtedly have been caught out for the singalar and eccentric conduct of the horses. Whenever spurred to their noblest ef forts they would stop and kick, and sev eral English noblemen and all the A- merican members of tbe Joint High Commission were sent sprawling upon the grass. We are pained to write that Earl de Grey’s gallant steed and Gener al Schenck’s carriage horse fell down, and when the nobleman was set up on end it was found that his aristocratic nose was severely skinned. When ex- Attorney General Hoar was thrown, he lost some time looking for his specta cles, but when found, he continued the chase on foot. Being somewhat be wildered he turned and ran in the op posite direction of t^c hunt, and spoiled it all by meeting the fox instead of tak ing after him, as he ought to have done, like a genuine fox hunter. As it was he nearly frightened the fox to death bv L; ( _ ;• _ uu.u.1 uoiHte uiat a low sort of stratagem had been resorted to instead of fair fox-hunting, such as he had been accnstomed to. “As it was, the animal headed off in this extraordinary way, took refuge in the stableyard, and was about hiding himself in a hencoop, when the Attorney General caught it by tho tail, and hold ing on with great vigor, found himself possessed of the bushy narrative, for the fox was so weak and exhausted that he let his tail go. All the gallant hnnters rode up, and, surrounding the ex-Attor- ney General, blew their tin horns while congratulating him upon securing the brush. “After tbb there was more lunch, more hot toddy, and then all mounted and went off in Bearch of another fox. There was no fox to be found, because Suit had only bought one. He said that if he had known that fool Yankee was going to put an end to the sport in that way, he would have had another fox, so as to have a real good, long hunt.” Our correspondent sends us this: One incident of this excursion does not appear in any of the published ac counts, though it is food for the Wash ington gwsips. It appears that a certain elevated dame, not altogether discon nected with the American half of the Joint High Commission, became seri ously affected by tbe rain, tbe cham pagne, the chilly weather or tbe hot punches, and “went on” at the dinner table at a fearful rate. Sbe is said to have confided to her neighbor that she was dreadfully disappointed in tbe Britishers, that they were horrid ugly men, and that Sir Edward Thornton was the only good-looking Englishman she had ever seen. Moral, (which is addressed to tbe ladies solely) Don’t endeavor to keep pace with fox-hunting Englishmen, at thelnnchand dinner table.—Constitu tion. The mortality in the ranks of the English peerage, during 1870, has been considerably less than in the course of the previous year, when the deaths of thirty-two lords spiritual and temporal, were recorded. Last year, one bishop and eighteen temp oral peers diea. London is well provided for amusements, supponng thirty-eight theatres and twenty-six music halls, besides the opera, Cremorue Gar-, den, and one or more circuses. Over seventeen hundred performers gain their living from tbe music-halls alone. The present style of men’s hats is an exact representation of the fash ion of 1840. The present scrambl ed style of ladies’ head-dress is of older origin, being, according to a conlemyurary, the identical fashion which prevailed before the invention of combs. A gentleman who was shut np in Paris during the late siege says that he ate rat at a restaurant, served up in a salmis with gravy and toas, and found it excellent. He says: “I have no objection to repeat the ex periment to- morrow. The flesh was white and delicate, like young rab bit, but with more flavor.” wm