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and now watched with eager interest for the
moment, when, weary with the toils of the
day, Herbert should yield to the influence
of slumber. He did not wait long, or in
vain. For half an hour he sat motionless,
watching the deep breathing of the sleeper,
and when assured that it was unfeigned, he
tried several means to place it beyond all
doubt. He arose and walked briskly across
the- floor, moving a chair or two in his pas
sage, then watched the effect. Herbert
stirred not a limb. He again returned to
the hearth—stood over him a moment —laid
himself down by his side—lifted an arm
from the pallet and laid it on his breast —
again arose —kindled anew the light that
had almost died away upon the hearth
looked upon him under the influence of this
stronger light—dropped a cane upon the’
floor near his head—but no motion marked
the consciousness of the man before him,
and his deep and heavy breathing was un
checked and undisturbed.
Satisfied that no deception was practiced
upon him, he went to a large chest in one
corner of the room, and drew from it a brace
of pistols and a long knife, fie seated him
self at the fire—examined the flints and the
priming, and adjusting a leathern belt a
round bis body, be placed a pistol at each
side, and thrust a knife into a sheath that de
pended from it. Thus accoutred, he rose
up. Looking once more to see if Searcy
slept, and satisfying himself that he was un
observed in his movements, he cautiously
approached the door, opened it without a
noise, and passing out, closed it silently be
laud him.
It waslongaftcrmuluight whenChemick’o,
sitting in the door of the small cabin, thought
he saw the indistinct form of a man moving
cautiously among the bushes at the end of
the house he guarded. He elevated his
head and looked sharply in that direction,
but he saw it no more. Resolved not to be
surprised, he entered the house, went up to
Huddleston, examined his bonds, and found
that he was in the same place he had left
him, securely pinioned to the side of the
house. lle then returned to the door, and
planted himself exactly in it, determined to
defend the entrance against every attack.
His suspicions were aroused at first by the
signs passing between Guilford and Hud
dleston—again by the noise he had heard
in the house when the cane fell upon the
floor, so long after the conversation had
ceased—and again by the form he thought
he had seen moving towards the cabin ;
though iu this he might he deceived, yet as
a true son of the forest, all these circum
stances were promptly marked by him, and
his own conclusions drawn from them.
While busied in these speculations a sup
pressed whispering, proceeding from the
far corner of the cabin caught his attention.
Rut then it ceased. Chemicko was now
sure someone was behind the house who
intended the rescue of Huddleston. He at
once determined to call Searcy, so that if
an attempt shonltl he made he might not he
overcome. Rut lie was arrested in his pur
pose by a sudden crash, as of falling boards,
and in the same moment a rnan leapt from
a whole in the roof upon the floor. The
darkness wholly obscured the features and
almost the lot m of the person.
Chemicko paused not—the time for ac
tion had come. Leaning his rifle beside the
door of the cabin, as a useless* weapon for
the present, he drew his knife and uttering
a shrill and terrible whoop, that was star
tling enough almost to break the slumbers
of the dead —he rushed forward to the fight.
On entering the door, his person was reveal
ed by the dim light from without to those
within, aiul the report of a pistol rung upon
the morning air. Chemicko reeled for- 1
ward and fell heavily upon the floor. A loud
laugh of triumph succeeded this event.
“ Now Guilford, lie quick, and I shall yet
be revenged upon this Virginia braggart
and his virtuous Ellen. Ah ! but my very
heart leaps with joy at the thought of throt
tling him before her eyes. That red devil
there has done his last job for the present.
Rut ho quick and loose me, for I hear the
fellow coining—quick, quick, cut the cords.
Now I am free again—give me your pistol.
I’ll pay him off the debt I owe him with
compound interest. Rut ho comes—he
steady Guilford, and wait my call. I de
sire to do the work alone—my revenge will
be thesweeter.”
Thus speaking he planted himself, pistol
iu hand, beside the door.
Herbert heurd the whoop of the jndian,
and leaping up from his hard bed, was a
moment bewildered with a confused sense
of danger.. The report of the pistol recall
ed his selfpossession, and throwing open the
door he rushed forth in tiie direction of the
sound. He had turned the corner of the
larger house, and was running rapidly up
to the other when Huddleston, planting
Kimself in the door-way, exclaimed—
“ Die, Villain, die!” and fired.
The next moment the sturdy ruflian mea
sured his length beside the Indian. Guil
ford saw his friend struck to the ground as
with a bolt of Heaven, so sudden and unex
pected was the stroke. His own heart sunk
within him, and he dared not move from his
fiosition, Jest the next blow should fall upon
limsclf. Herbert Searcy entered the house,
calling upou Chemicko. The faithful In
dian responded to the call. Though fallen
and stunned, yet he had not been seriously
hurt. The ball had grained his skull, but
lie had recovered sufficiently from its effect
by the time Herbert arrived to be able to
get into a sitting position. This he occu
pied when the pistol was fired at Herbert,
and when Frank Huddleston received the
blow that sent him head-long to the ground,
he touched Chemicko as he fell, and he had
scarcely reached the floor before the knife
of the Indian was buried to the hilt in his
side. When called for by Herbert, Chemi
cko drily remarked, as he drew out the
knife, all reeking with the heart’s blood of
Huddles tou,
“ Him bad white man—poor shoot—but
him no trouble you agin—him safe now—
Guilford come cut’m loose—but Chemicko
no sleep—Guilford had man—make sign—
him skulk in corner—’fraidtoo much.”
Herbert turned in the direction indicated
and saw Guilford drawn up into the small
est possible compass, waiting with a trem
bliug heart the uext act .in this midnight
tragedy. ...
“ Kindle a light, Chemicko,” said Her
bert, “ and let us see who we have here.
“Ah !” he exclaimed, as a light shewn up
from the hearth, “my hospitable host! You
knew the man now lying dead before you as
a consummate villain, richly meriting the
punishment he was to receive, and now I
find you his companion and accomplice.”
Ry this time the females, aroused from
their sleep and alarmed at the noise with
out, made their appearance. Ellen was
pale from fear and agitation. Doubt as to
her lover’s safety rested upon her mind, and
prompted the words she littered.
“ What have they done—where is Her
bert ? Has my fierce enemy escaped, and
am I again exposed to his outioge and vio
lence ? Oh ! God pity me—spare me !”
Her words fell upon the ear of her lover,
and he ran and caught her iu his arms ere
she fell, reassured her of his safety, and told
her of the death of Huddleston.
“ Heaven it just!” she murmured, “the
day of reckoning comes sooner or later. What
a fearful account must he render for the
deeds of a reckless and lawless life.”
“ Yes, Ellen ’tis but the act of stern, and
uncompromising justice that has cut him oft’
without a warning. I wished it otherwise.
I desired that the law of the land should
have taken its course upon him, as an out
law and robber—hut heaven has deemed it
otherwise. Chemicko’s arm has interposed
again in your behalf, and sent another vic
tim to his long account. Madam,” said he,
turning to the young and not unhandsome
wife of Guilford, who stood a trembling
witness of the scene before her—“your
kindness to Ellen has secured your hus
band’s protection. He would have rescued
that ruffian there from the hands of justice,
and turned him loose again upon the eartli
to devour and spoil the innocent. Rut in
that he has been prevented. You would
have afforded us shelter for the night secure
from danger—and we are your debtors.
He would have used the confidence we re
posed in him to betray us. In that he has
signally failed. He is my debtor for his life,
and you for a husband. I spate him. And
sir, 1 would advise you to suffer the lesson
of this night, and the history of that dead
man to remain as a warning, never to be
forgotten. Cultivate the principles of vir
tue and integrity—let your arm always be
raised in behalf of the innocent and help
less. Thus you may retrieve the character
you have lost, and become a fit companion
f'orthe wife of your bosom.”
Day was dawning as Herbert Searcy
closed the above remarks. Hasty prepara
tions were made to leave the place, and by
sunrise Herbert and Ellen, accompanied by
Chemicko, were on their way to Greensbo
ro’, happy in the consciousness of their
present joys, and without a cloud resting
upon the brightness of their future pros
pects.
Madison, Ga.
Declaration (f Independence. —The na
tional Intelligenter of Monday contains the
following article in relation to Charles Car
roll, of Carrollton, the last survivor in 1826,
of all those who signed the Declaration of
Independence :
In the year 1526, after all save one of the
band of patriots whose signatures are borne
on the Declaration of Independence had
descended to the tomb, and the venerable
Carroll alone remained among the living,
the government of the city of New York
deputed a committee to wait on the illustri
ous survivor, and obtain from him for
site in the public hall of the city, a copy of
the Declaration of 1776, graced and authen
ticated anew with his sign manual. The
aged patriot yielded to the request, and af
fixed, with his own hand, to a copy of that
instrument, tlie grateful, solemn, and pious
supplemental Declaration, which follows :
“ Grateful to Almighty God for the bless
* ings which through Jesus Christ, our Lord,
‘he has conferred on my beloved country
‘ in her emancipation, and on myself, in per
‘ milling me, under circumstances of nier
‘ cy, to live to the age of 89 years, and to
‘ survive the fiftieth year of American In
‘ dependence, and certify by my present
* signature, my approbation of the Deelnra
‘ tion of Independence adopted by Congress
‘on the 4tli of July, 1776, which 1 originsil
‘ ly subscribed on the 2d day of August of
‘ the same year, and of which I am now the
‘ last surviving signer, I do hereby recom
‘ mend to the present and future generations
‘the principles of that important document
* as the best earthly inheritance their ances
‘ tors could bequeath to them, and pray that
‘ the civil and religious liberties, they have
‘ secured to my country, may he perpetua
* ted to remotest posterity, and extended to
‘the whole family of man.
“ CHARLES CARROLL, of Carrollton.
“ August 2, 1826.”
Extraordinary Instance of Gambling. —lt
is well known upon the western waters,
that the firemen and other hands employed
upon the boats spend much of their idle
time in playing cards. Os the passion for
gaming, thus excited, an instance has been
narrated to us upon the most credible au
thority, which surpasses theliighest wrought
fictions of the gambler’s fate. A colored
fireman, on board a steam boat running be
tween this and New Orleans, had lost all his
money at poker with his companions.—He
then staked his clothing, and being still un
fortunate, pledged his own freedom for a
small amount, losing this the bets were
doubled, and he finally, at one desperate
hazard, ventured his full valuo as a slave,
and laid down his free papers to represent
the stake. He lost, suffered his certificates
to be destroyed, and was actually sold by
the winner to a slave dealer, who hesitated
not to take him at a small discount upon his
assessed value. When last heard of by one
who kno\ys him, and who informed us of
the fact, he was still paying in servitude the
penalty of his criminal folly.
Hint to Blacksmiths. —The cutting debars
of iron, or pipes, with the chisel, is a labo
rious and tardy process. Ry the following
mode, the same end is attained more easily.
Bring the iron to a white heat, and then, fix
ing it in a vice, apply the common saw,
which, xvithout being turned in the edge,
will divide it us easily as if it were a carrot.
■ a <di® mm ibp ai ua ©mii
TEMPERANCE ODE.
BY K. M. CHARLTON, ESQ.
Aik—Marseilles Ilymn.
Ye friends of Virtue! wake to duty,
See, see ! what havoc Vice has made; —
The widow’s erics, the tears of Beauty,
Implore your help—beseech your aid:
Shall tyrant Custom, ruin bringing,
Reel to and fro throughout the land,
With none to raise a voice or hand,
To warn the victims round it clinging ?
Awake, awake from sloth,
Proclaim with loudest breath,
That he whodraius the “ flowing howl,”
Drinks shame, despair, and death.
Oh Temperance! can man forsake thee,
And all thy tranquil joys give up;
Or will he,vain'y hope to make thee
Companion ol the sparkling cup ?
Ah no! the wise this lesson knoweth,
That danger in each goblet lies,
And he the bright enchantment flies,
And quaffs the tide that llenv’n heslowe'h.
Awake, awake from sloth, etc.
The close of the Week. —A week ! It is
but a shut t lime indeed, but its events are a
host, ils changes many. To whom lias the
week just about to close, brought joy? to
whom sorrow ? lo whom riches ? to whom
poverty? to whom friends? to whom ene
mies ? to whom love? to whom hatred? to
whom sickness? lo whom health? to whom
life? to whom death? What! all these
changes in one week ? Yea and a host more
numerous than the sands of the sen. Many
who saw the dawning of the present week
w ill he in another world before it closes ; many
upon whoni fortune smiled hot a week ago,
are now groaning beneath the withering frowns
of poverty; many who were floating gently
on the bark of life, o’er the unruffled sea of
iiappiness a week ago, are now wrecks of ruin
on the shores of affliction ; many upon whom
llie sun of the last Sabbath shone propitiously,
have ere this time met with some ill-fortune,
and are turned upon the world the children
of poverty ; ami many whose expectations
ar.d hopes were beaming forth, bright and
prosperous at the dawn of the week, find
themselves at its close the sad and miserable
beings of cruel disappointment.
And such is the life of man ! It is subject
to changes in a week, a day, nay, even an
hour. The world is still in commotion—rev.
olution succeeding revolution—time whirling
on in its rapid progress, leaving behind its
traces of destiuction; and even in a small
community, many thrilling and exciting cir
cumstances might be summed up, and record
ed at the close of each week.— Mound City.
The Sabbath. —Reader, have you ever con
templated the approach of a'Sabbath, with
feelings of puregratitude to the great I AM,
who set it apart as a day of rest, front the
tods and drudgeries of life. Have you ever
gazed upon the setting sun at a Saturday eve,
as he threw his farewell smile upon the ocean
wave, and bathed the mountain tops in floods
of molton gold? Have you ever watched
him sink gradually away, with a halo of burn
ing clouds upon his brow, and thought that
on the morrow lie would again emerge from
the dawning East, to look down upon the se
renity of a Sabbath ? Yes! we hear the glad
response from a thousand voices, all exclaim
ing yes ! We hcarthe merchant as lie turns
the key of his counting room exclaim yes!
as he fondly dreams of a relax from the din
of business which surrounded him through the
week. We see the man of pleasuro respond
with emphasis, us he looks forward with de
light to the enjoyments of a ride in the coun
try, where he can luxuriate in the fanning
breeze, redolent with the perfume in the wild
flowers that strew the plain, and gaze enrap
tured upon the rural scenes, which meet tiie
wandering eye at every turn.
llowdelightful then is the Sabbath—all hail
it—all enjoy it —all look forward to it with
thoughts, above the things of this earth, and
purer than the grovelling drudgery of tnind,
attendant upon the business of the week-
The hum of business preparation is suspended
—our streets arc evacuated hv the crowds
which throng them daily, and all is hushed in
the sweet serenity of Sabbath Silence—save
when the solemn tones of the surrounding
Church bells, tali upon the ear, lo remind us
flint the Sabbath is a day we owe to our Ma
ker—a day oil which we should wend our
way to the House of God. —Mound City.
Animals turned Authors. —ls animals were
to turn authors, the eagle would excel in
epic, and the sheep in pastoral poetry. The
elephant would produce an excellent trea
tise on philosophy, the horse employ his
genius on chivalry; the cow oil agriculture,
and the dog cut a figure in the drama. The
writings of the monkey would excel in sa
tire and burlesque; while the cat would be
distinguished for the sarcasm, envy, anddis
ingeuousness of his composition.
The style of the lion would bo hold, ab
rupt and Pindaric; while the gander would
be remarkable for the extreme verbosity
and diff'usenessof his language. The badger
would probably attemptatreatise on medical
perfumes, the turkey a disquisition on the
mock heroic.
The genius of the owl would exhibit itself
in the composition of elegies, and solemn
dirges ; that of the bear in an essay on waltz
ing. As for the hog, he could never excel
in polite literature, but might favor the world
with a critical analysis of the philosophy of
Bacon. The peacock would make ail ex
cellent contributor to the Lady’s Magazine
and the annuals. The whale would write
powerfully on the depopulating consequen
ces of the Greenland fishery, and the pigeon
on letter carrying. The goose would make
a blue-stocking of the first class, and would
be famous for dealing in scandal.
The magpie would be a notorious plago
rist, cabbaging ideas at all hands. As for
the pat rot, he would not indulge in written
composition, but be fond of showing off as a
public speaker. For composing political
harangues, the ass would be unrivalled.
The reason of things lies in a narrow com
pass, if the mind could at any time be so
happy as to light on it. Most of the writings
and discourses of the world are but illustra
tion and rhetoric, which signifies as much as
nothing to a mind in-pursuit of philosophi
cal truth.
The editor of the Mobile Herald quotes
from the Montgomery Advertiser the fol
lowing glowing eulogy to the water of the
Robinson Springs, in Autangacounty, Ala
bama :
“And oh, such water! cooler than the
breath of Spring, clearer than chrystal, pure
as a woman's heart, and sparkling as cham
pagne ! One goblet of such a liquid were
worth a pipe of wine, and there is not a
headache in a hogshead ot it! Had Nero
drunk such water he never would have been
a tyrant, bis head would have been too clear
anil his blood too cool, for it takes a distem
pered head and heated circulation to make
one.”
Well, does the description captivate, en
trance, enchain the editor of the Herald ?
No such thing. He closes the quotation by
remarking that water in general and the
Robinson Springs water ill particular “ is
an excellent thing to boil potatoes in!” This
is a sinking in sentiment with a vengeance.
Nothing to Do. —We never have an exal
ted opinion of a female, when we see her
endeavoring to spread abroad the impression
that she has nothing particular to do, and
that all her time is at her own disposal.—
We know some body must work to support
her, and if she is unwilling to engage in
house-work, or do herown sewing, weknow
she is not a suitable person for a wife. It is
painful to witnessthe manner in which many
daughters are brought up. They live as if
nature designed them for butterflies, to flirt
away their existence without benefiting ei
ther themselves or others—instead of work
ing for their own support and the mainten
ance of others. Such females will never
make suitable companions for mail —and if
left without property, must suffer indescri
bably for their folly to the latest period of
existence.
Females should take pride in supporting
themselves. It is no disgrace to labor and
those who learn trades or take in work, are
more happy, enjoy better health and are in
a fairer way of getting good husbands xlian
the lazy and the fashionable. A man of
sense chooses a help-meet for life, and not a
toy. A simpleton only will take to his bo
som a flirt or a coquette. Let girls remem
ber this, and betake themselves to indus
trious habits, anil they will never regret it
to the latest period of existence* — Portland
Tribune.
Blushing. —We love to see the rosy hue
mounting over the neck and face of a beau
tiful woman; it shadows forth delicately and
softly the gentle feeling of her soul. It is
the evidence of timidity, which is lovely on.-
ly to women. Out upon your masculine
mind ; out upon your rough sturdy genius !
we prefer the reed to the ash—the ivy to the
oak. Woman’s natural element is retire
ment; her home, the domestic circle. Unfit
by nature to buffet with the world’s waves,
or mingled in its strife; she lives dependent
upon a stronger spirit, and repays in kind
ness and gentleness, that which she con
ceives in protection and support.
We cannot bear a woman who never
blushes; the steady, cold, calm eye has no
charm* for us; there is a beauty and a gen
tleness in the downcast look, starting tear,
and warm blush that defies comparison even
with the loveliest of the haughty. Those
who endeavor to curb and restrain this feel
ing, thinking it a weakness, err strangely in
their ideas; let it alone, their is no deformity
in the indulgence.
Rainbows. —The doctrine of the rainbow
is confirmed by a very easy and simple ex
fieriment. If a globe, full of water, be
mng up iti the sunshine, and viewed in such
a position, that the rays which proceed from
the globe to the eye, may, with the sun’s
rays include an angle of about 42 degress, a
full red color will bfe seen in that side of the
globe which is opposite to the sun ; if the
angle be made less, either by raising the
eye or lowering the globe, the other colors,
yellow, green, blue, &c., will appear in
succession. If the angle be 50 degrees, a
faint red color will be seen in that side of
the globe towards the sun ; if the angle be
made greater, the other colors wifi be seen
successively.
Oh! if, when we oppress and grind our
fellow creatures, we bestowed but one
thought on the dark evidences of human er
ror, which like dense and heavy clouds are
rising, slowly it is true, hut not less surely,
to heaven, to pour their after vengeance up
on our heads—if we heard but one instant,
in imagination, the deep testimony of dead
men’s voices, which no power can stifle, and
no pride shut out, where would be the inju
ry and injustice, the suffering, misery, cru
elty and wrong, that each day’s life brings
with it ?— Dickens.
Titles. —Several years ago there was a
young English nobleman figuring away at
Washington. He had not much brains, but
a vast number of titles, which have the ef
fect of tickling the ears of some amazingly.
Several young ladies were in debate, going
over the list—he is Lord Viscount so and so,
Raroti of such a county, See., “My fair
friends,” exclaimed tiie gallaut Lieut. N.
“one of his titles you appear to have forgot
ten.” ‘ Ah,’ exclaimed they eagerly, ‘ what
is that ?’ “He is Barren of Intellect,” was
the reply.
king Charles’ golden rules.
1. Urge no healths.
2. Profane no divine ordinances.
3. Touch no state matters.
4. Reveal no secrats.
5. Pick no quarrels.
6. Make no comparisons.
7. Maintain no ill opinions.
8. Keep no bad company.
9. Encourage no vice.
10. Make no lotig meals.
11. Repeat no grievances.
12. Lay no wagers.
Gentlemen are oftener found among the
‘ hewers of wood and drawers of water’
than among the highborn and the rich.
A dandy having taken it into his head not
to eat any vegetables being asked if he had
ever eat any in his life, answered. “ Yes,
madam, I once eat a pea.”
Encouraging to Mechanics. —By tlio Ma
dison Indiana Courier, v\# learn that the
Municipal officers of that place are all filled
by Mechanics. The Courier says :
“ Our Mayor is a Cabinet-maker, our
Marshal a Blacksmith, the City Attorney a
Plasterer, the Secretary a Carpenter, the
Assessor a Pattern maker, the Collector a
Tobacconist, and three of the nine Council
men are Tailors, two are Carpenters, one a
Machinist, one a Wagon-maker, one a Mill
wright, and one Fan Mill-maker. Let any
other city in the United States beat us if
they can. Who will say we are not work
ingmen 1”
The Town of Gordon.—We are pleased
to learn, (says the Sandcrsville Telescope)
that the Directors of the Central Rail Road
Company have selected a prominent site on
the line of the road, fora town, to be named
Gordon, in honor of the late President of
tlie Company. It is located in Wilkinson
county, one hundred and seventy miles from
Savannah, twenty from Macon and fourteen
from Milledgeville, and will he the depot for
a great portion of middle Georgia, say Wilk
inson, Baldwin, Pulaski, Dooly, Laurens,
Twiggs, and a portion of Putnam, Jasper
and Jones. As regards health, no place in
this section of the State possesses greater
advantages than Gordon. It is on the divi
ding ridge between the Oconee and Ocniul
gee rivers, many miles distant from swamp
lands of any description, and abounds in the
most excellent water.
The land lias been purchased by our fel
low-citizen, D. Solomon, Esq ; who, we are
informed. intends to oiler lots for sale early
the ensuing fall.
A Contrast. —The youngest son of Louis
Philippe is about to enter the army as a
Lieutenant of Artillery. What a pity that
Royal personages can never fix upon any
other profession than that of slayers of men!
The Emperor of China, who is a heathen,
displays, in this respect, a more Christian
example to his people than the professing
Christian Princes of Europe. What time
he devotes to manual labor, is employed in
agriculture. lie takes more pride in being
a ploughman than a soldier. Hence the
comparative happiness of his people; nor
will Europe ever arrive at any degree of
lasting happiness till her rulers follow the
sage example of the Monarch of China.
President Houston.—lnfluence of Woman.
—The Cincinnati Enquirer states that the
character of this gentleman has undergone
an entire and happy change since he has
taken upon himself the responsibility of a
married life. His manners arc more refined;
lie is no longer intehiperate, and behaves
himself like a good Christian. The En
quirer ascribes this most fortunate change to
Ids amiable and accomplished lady.
A Quaker Answer. —Martha does thee
love me ? asked a qunker youth of one at
whose shrine his heart’s holiest feelings had
been offered up.
Why, Seth, answered she, we are com
manded to love one another, are we not ?
All, Martha, but does thee regard me
with that feeling the world calls love ?
I hardly know what to tell thee, Seth. I
have greatly feared that my heart was an
erring one. I have tried to bestow rny love
on all; hut I may have sometimes thought,
perhaps, that thee was getting rather more
than thy share.
A Chance. —The editor of a paper in
Pennsylvania says he wants a wife, tind lie
thus enumerates the necessary qualifications
of the lady:
“She must he a gal whoso eyes beam
with love, tenderness and pity; twinkle with
fun, frolic and mischief: and lighten up the
flash with the immortal part of its fi arl tene
ment; whose countenance is illuminated by
virgin innocence and purity, chastened by
humility, and. happy, from the practice of
homely virtue, with a heart to feel, a hand
to relieve and a bosom to sympathize with
misfortune; one who can mend breeches,
make shirts, scrub floors, peel taters, cook
dinner.”
The Picayune says:
Had he been a yankce he would probably
have appended to the list of qualifications
something like the following: one that can
ride horse to plough, attend to the garden,
feed the pigs, drive home the cows, and oc
casionally lick the schoolmaster!
Pass it Round. —“ Ind ignantly frown upon
the first dawning of every attempt to alien
iateany portion of ourcountry from the rest,”
was the sage advice of Washington. Pass
round the sentiment, and with it blessings
upon the memory of its author.
Bathing. —lt is said that John Quincy
Adams washes his entire body every morn
ing when lie rises, both summer and winter.
This practice he has observed four years,
and is no doubt, one tiling that gives the
old gentleman that degree of health and ac
tivity for which he stands jite-eminent for
one of his age.
Revivals. —Religion is making rapid
strides in Middle Florida; and its humaniz
ing influences are anxiously awaited in that
heretofore pugnacious and violent country.
There was an ample field for improvement
—broad enough to take in all the charities
of life; and though the improvement lias
como even at tlio “ eleventh hour,” yet there
is hope for the sinners. Wo shall be very
happy, after all has been gathered there into
the paths of virtue, love to God and man,
that influences may travel hitherward. Our
goodly city is white to the harvest, and only
awaits the sickle for the collecting of the
sheaves. — St. Augustine News.
Ninety Bits since last Wednesday. —Said
a Washingtonian in St. Louis, on Tuesday,
“Jliave saved just ninety hits since last
Wednesday.” Said another gentleman, “ I
have saved just one dollar a day.” Said a
third, “ I have saved ten dollars a week : I
have earned twelve, and for a year past have
spent ten of it a week for liquor.” How
many comforts have already been brought
to the families of these men since they have
withheld their earnings from “ the tormen
tors.”
MEHsoollllstfmy*
PUBLISHED EVERY SATUBDAY MORNING AT
TIIE VERY LOW PRICE OF TWO DOLLARS
AND FIFTY CENTS PER ANNUM ONE DOL
LAR AND FIFTY CENTS FOR SIX MONTHS—
IN ADVANCE.
MADISON, GEO l
galurday, Fu!y IG, 1819.
OUR AGENTS.
Mk. Richard O. Echols ha* teen employed at •
Travelling Agent for the ‘‘Southern Miscellany.” He
is fully authorized to solicit subscribers, advertisements
and job work, and to receipt for moneys due this office.
Mr. Echols will visit many portions of Georgia and
Alabama in the course of die present summer, and wo
hope all those who feel any interest in our enterprise
will render him such assistance as muy he best calcu
lated to materially increase our subscription list.
Mr. W. XV. Hughey, of Griffin, is also auihorized to
solicit, and receipt for, subscriptions to the Miscellany.
Mr. S A. Holmes, General Newspaper Agent, is our
authorized Agent for the City of Augusta.
TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.
We hove received, within the past week, quite a num
ber of original communications which we have not
had time to examine attentively; we hepe, therefore,
our correspondents— to whom we acknowledge our
self under many obligations—will bear patiently thu
unavoidable delay in the appearance of their articles.
It is our anxious desire to treat them all with the ut
most respect.
“THE MAGNOLIA.”
We were unable to get our notice of this
magazine ready in time for this number of
the “ Miscellany.” We design giving a
short history of the work since its com
mencement, and a cursory review of its con
tents. We are daily expecting the July
number, and, if received in time, will no
tice both numbers in our next.
TIIE NEWSPAPER PRESS.
There are few means by which the mind
and morals of society are more powerfully
affected than by the weekly journals which
are so abundantly and widely scattered thro’
our country. There is a responsibility rest
ing upon the coi.ductorof a public print, of
too serious and sacred a character, to be
disregarded by himself, or the community
in whose eye he holds so prominent a place.
And a man whose soul is alive to the dic
tates of conscience, or who is sensible of his
accountability to his fL'llow-men for the in
fluence, whether more or less, which he is
to exert upon the world—for the manner in
which he acts his part among the players
upon the world’s stage —cannot enter upon
the duties of such a calling without much
misgiving. There is something in the form
which is given to ideas by the printer’s type,
and sent forth in his weekly sheet, which,
in the estimation of the reader, gives force
to their expression, and adds importance to
their meaning. Thoughts which might be
thrown off among friends, in a social hour,
and pass forever from recollection, are pre
sented in characters which meet the eye, and
thus affect the mind and heart. Why it is
that this visible form in which thought is
embodied, should impart to it such addition
al consequence; philosophy might perhaps
be puzzled to determine. Rut so it is. And
when a paragraph or essay has been pre
pared with due care and caution; bearing
the stamp of mind fitted to instruct and
improve, it is read with an attention and
leaves an impression, which, perhaps, is
more salutary and abiding, than if the same
sentiments had been received from any other
source. Every sentence, whether it be de
signed to impart information to the reader,
and add to the common stock of practical
knowledge, or by its moral tendency, to
improve the heart, and elevate the tone of
public morals; tells upon the interest of
society. There are thousands, especially in
this country, whose reading is almost entiie
ly confined to their newspapers, and many
read nothing else—not even the Almanack
or Bible. Some—“pity’tis, ’tis true” — do
pend exclusively, for their intellectual and
moral improvement, upon a paper devoted
to their political party. And we take occa
sion here to say, that whoever permits his
conduct to be governed by the standard of
morality adopted by many of our party edi
tors, or depends upon the lights which they
hold out before him, for a correct knowledge
of the political condition of the country, will
soon find himself destitute of moral sensi
bility, and little better acquainted with the
true principles of his government, than a
wanderer in the lubyrinths of Egypt would,
with his relation to the four points of the
compass. Os any man whose only source
of information upon measures of public pol
icy, or questions of casuistry, is a newspa
per of the character of some which disgrace
the press of the United States, we say em
phatically, God help him!
The influence of the press is silent but
powerful; its effects upon society are plain
ly seen and realized, but seldom traced to
their proper cause. The morals of a peo
ple might be destroyed, and their govern-