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VOL. I. Is published, every Thursday afternoon, in Macon, Ga. on the follow- CONDITIONS : If paid strictly in advance • “ 8* annum. If not so paid - * * - 300 “ I,egal Advertisements will be made to conform to the following pro visions of the Statute: — Sales of Land and Negroes, by Executors, Administrators and Guard ians, are required by law to be advertised ill a i*ublic gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. These sales must be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the Cosrt House in the county in which the property is situated. The sales of Personal Property must be advertised in like manner for ty dnvs. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will he made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land and Negroes, must he published weekly for four months. Citations or Letters of Administration must be published thirty days for Dismission from Administration, monthly, six months —for Dis mission from Guardianship, days. Knits (or foreclosure of mortgage, must be published monthly, for fsnr months —for establishing lost papers, for the full space us three months —for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators where a bond has been given by the deceased, the full space of three months. Professional and business Cards, inserted, according to the follow ing scale: For 4 lines or less per annum - - $5 00 in advance. “ 6 lines “ “ * - - 7 00 “ “ *lO * * . .. 310 00 “ “ JJT Transient Advertisements will be charged sl, per square of 13 hues or less, for the first and 30 cts. for each subsequent insertion.— On thsse rates there will be a deduction of -.MI percent, on settlement, when advertisements are continued 3 months, without alteration. rF* All Letters except those containing remittances must be post paid or free. Postmasters and others who will act as Agents for the “Citizen” aisy retahi go per cent, for their trouble, on all cash aubaaripttoiro for warded. OFFICE on Mulberry Street, East of the Floyd House and near the Market. MLIIL AKRA XCOEATS. Mnil for Milledgeville, Savannah, Augusta and Columbus close at 0 o’clock, I*. M. All mails out of flie State (Tennesse and Florida excepted) at same hour. ~ Forsyth, Bartlesville, Thonumton, Grifiin, Atlanta, Marietta and Dalton, close; at 8 o’clock, P. M. “ “ Tennessee 3 o’clock, P. M. - Florida Route, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays at 3 o’- clock, P. M. * Via Knoxville, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday’s at 3 o'clock. P. M. * Via Clin . Eatouton, kc. Tuesdays, Thursilaye and Sun days at 3 o’- is. P. M. * Via F- rt ‘ ley, i YsVinesdayand Saturday mornings, at 8 o'clock. Office open from rt i-* \. M. to 1 o’clk.. I* M., and from 2 to -1 P. 11. The Mail by Macon cv Western Itailaoad will be delivered at 3 1-2 I*6 A. M. Night Mails, Bto 8 1-2 P. M. Z. T. CONNER, P. M. P. O. Macon, Mar. 12, 1830. (Tjji % ]M'j Coriirr, SIBII2AE AAD SHADOW. The sunshine hath a shadow, A n*l t!l* Itullk a uln4o I ThiTc’s no typo in art like nature, But an antitype hath made. The sky may all be azure, With its canopy serene, .Hut a cloud will come unhidden, On the glory of the scene. The tnoon may be of silver, The stars of golden light ; But a speck will dim their beauty, In the quiet, holy night ; And our lives are changing ever, Like the spring-time of the year ; Sometimes all is April sunshine, Then again ’tis dark and drear. We have our dreams of pleasure, And our moments fraught with pain ; The day may dawn all lovely, Then put on its gloom again ; We have our dreams of rapture — Our bliss none else may feel, But the mournful hue of sorrow, O'er the highest brow will steal. We have our dreams of gladness— We have waking dreams of care; There are hours of kindly greeting, Then again no joy to share. Sometimes life is all a sunshine, Sometimes all a gloomy shade, There’s no type in art like nature, But an antitype hath made. We have thoughts that soar far upwards, In the free-born glorious air 5 We have spirits light as fancies, To commune with angels there. Sometimes tides of bitter feelings, O’er the inmost spirit roll, Then again some wave of rapture, Breaks across the shadow’d soul. When the heart is freest, lightest, Like a bird on summer’s wing— When the spirit basks in gladness, Then it will with gladness sing ; When upon the brow of summer, Angry storms and tempests rim-, Than anon uitfolcU the rainbow, And appears the smiling skies. The (reatioa of Woman. She next made Woman—so the story goes— With an improved material and art; Gave her a form, the choicest one of those That make aught beautiful, and to her heart A power to soften man—and forced the rose Its biasing tint to her soft cheek impart— Then chopp'd the rainbow up, and with the chips She went to work, and finished oft’ her lips 1” The Wasted Flowers. —On the velvet hank of a riv tiV-t sat a rosy child. Her lap was filled with flowers, and a garland of rose-buds was twined around her neck. Her face v>aß r; ubant as the sunshine that fell upon it: and her voice ‘as as clear as that of the bird which warbled at her side. Tie- little stream went singing on, and with every gush of its mus ' c the child lifted a flower in its dimpled hand, and with a merr y l au gh, threw it upon its surface. In her glee she for got that her treasures were growing less, and with the swift motion of childhood, she flung them upon the sparkling tide, haul every bud and blossom had disappeared. Then seeing 11 r loss, she sprang upon her feet, and, busrting into tears, ‘ n ’ ou d to the stream, “ Bring back my flowers !” But |_ e s,lf:am danced along, regardless of her tears ; and, as it r e the blooming burden away, her words came back in a Miming echo alone its reedy margin. And, long after, amid ’- Wailing of and the fitful bursts of childish Mer’ ‘ fr'dd s cry, “ Bring back my flowers!” so 1’ “ nuil ’ n ‘ art idly wasting the precious moments autifully bestowed upon thee, see, in the thoughtless, f”'-iff 1 child, an emblem of thyself. Each moment is a on all ” its fragments be dispensed in blessings ’ ttit n\’° Un< ‘l**’ l ' Cl ’ “hen thou hast carelessly flung them 1 \ ri I (j! \f i|>i>rfrfr[filial (Ull titers 4# <£s *#W from thee, secst them receding on the swift waters of time, thou wilt cry in tones more sorrowful than those of the child, ” Bring back my flowers !” And the only answer will be an echo from the shadowy past, “ Bring back my flowers l'’ --- • - - ~ SUiiifflhnitf. THE I*ooll PRINTER, OR THE RRO KER’S DAUGHTER. BY GEORGE W. BUNGAY. “ 1 should ltko to know the name of that handsome young fellow who accompanied you to church last Sunday,’’ re marked Clara Mullins, toiler amiable and beautiful cousin Maria Sedgeland. i hat s a pretty question to ask. Do you imagine 1 am so simple as to tell all I know in this age of secret socie ties? The next thing, you will want an introduction; by and by you will set your cap, and who knows but you may steal away my gallant beau, and then leave me alone in the glory of single blessedness.” “ Now, Maria, stop poking fun at me, and lets know the name of that nice young man.” ” IV ell, Clara, it it will afford you so much gratification I to ascertain his name, I will not be so cruel to withhold it; here is his card.” “George Raymond. What a pretty combination of names. George is the Greek word for farmer, and Ray mond signifies sunlight on the mountains.” “ So you admire the name, and think he who wears it is personally handsome.” \ es, Maria, 1 think he is a perfect model of a man.— llow neatly, and yet how plainly, he dresses! What a fine figure, broad forehead, and beautiful eyes ho h,*,. 1., i„- „ lawyer,or doctor, or professor,or merchant, or student?— What Is he ? ” “He is a printer.” “-V publisher, mcap.” “ No, he picks up types in a newspaper office.” “ O, now I understand ; you intend to say that he is the editor and proprietor of a newspaper.” ” No, my dear cousin, he is a journeyman printer.” “ A ou don’t say lie is nothing but a journeyman.” “ lie is a poor man who works fora livelihood.” “ llow could you consent to allow him to sit in our pew, and beau you home from church ? 1 would not permit a mechanic to touch my arm with a pair of tongs. I think j you ought to be ashamed of such vulgar society. I shall in form 111a this very day, and so long as you remain under this , roof, I am quite sure she will not allow that plebeian printer i to pay any attention to you.” “ 1 declare,” observed Maria, pleasantly, “ you have giv en me a Caudle lecture. If that distinguished foreigner, j who fell in love with you at the museum, and who has been so assiduous in his attentions ever since he obtained an intro- ; duetion, could have heard you, I have no doubt he would ! highly commend you for looking down ou what he calls the common herd.” 1 wish you to understand that Mr. Fitzgammon is a resit gentleman oy oinfi, and that be has uie advantage of an ample fortune and a refined education,” continued Clara. lam heartily sorry, my dear cousin, that you encour- j age the address of such a fop. lam sure he does not display much good breeding and for his education, he seldom speaks ! without murdering his mother tongue. For my part, I should prefer the society of one who works for a living, provided he is honest, virtuous, sober and intelligent. I have been i acquainted with Mr. Raymond ever since he was a child— 1 indeed we were schoolmates. I knew his parents, and al- j though they are poor, they are quite respectable, and have j given George a good common education, and he is now occu- j pyinghis leisure hours in acquiring a knowledge of the king- j nages. Even you admire his personal attractions, and all who are acquainted with him unhesitatingly acknowledge that his intellectual endowments are far superior to his physi cal beauty.” “ 1 am much obliged to you for that sermon, Miss Maria Sedgeland ; It does not require the assistance of a microscope or a spy glass to discover the state of your feelings in regard to tills vexed question. The truth is, you lire envious or jeal ous, because I have made an impression on the heart of dear Mr. Fitzgammon, while you can only pick up a poor, shiftless fellow, who picks up letters in a printing office. Ma will ; put a.stop to your courtship, and if you were at the altar, ! pa would rise and forbid the bans.” The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Maria was requested to go into her aunt's room. She luul been seated hut a few seconds, when the aristocratic old lady came into : | the apartment, and observed, “I have been informed that, j ! without my knowledge or consent, you have accepted the attentions of a young man employed in a printing office.” “ Well, aunt,” remarked Maria, blushing to the temples, “ Mr. Raymond came from my native town, and we have been acquainted with each other, ever since we were chil dren. lie is a respectable young inan, and a welcome guest in some of the best circles of society.” -j “ Well, miss, I shall put an immediate stop to such inter- I views as yon have with him. You shall not go with him j at parties.” “lie never goes to the theatre, and he never drinks wine. He belongs to a division of the Sons of Temperance.” “So he is a cold water rat, is he? Now 1 hate him more than I did before; and if he ever comes to my house, I will drive him away with a broomstick.” “ John,” said Mrs. Mullins to her servant man, “ take this billet-doux to the hotel where Mr. Fitzgammon boards, and j give it to him yourself, with my compliments.” It was past nine o’clock, and yet Mr. Fitzgammon was still in the embrace of Morpheus. The waiter, however, had to awaken the sleeper and feed him, so that the dining-room might be got in readiness for the next meal, and awoke him at once. He usually spent an hour at his toilette, washing his hands, powdering his face, unpapering his curls, lacing his stays, etc. Whilst he was dressing, and decorating his person, John commenced a conversation with an intelligent waiter, who was an old chum of his. “ I guess missus is agoin to have a party to-night, and this | note is to ax the gentleman you have just called to attend.” “ You do not call him a gentleman, I hope. He is as cross ; as a bear with a sore head, and is more trouble at the table than any other six boarder* in the house. lie smells of the soup until his moustache dips into it, and then pronounces it unfit for pigs ; he says the beefsteak is tough as leather—the butter strong as Sampson—and the pics and pudding not to. be compared to such luxuries in London. We have to be as careful in feeding him, as though he were a wild beast, gnash ing his teeth on the keepers of the menagerie.” “ Why, how you talk, Bob. Miss Clara takes quite a shine to him, and she would have thrown a kettle of hot wa ter on you, if she heard what you said just now. 1 shouldn't wonder if they got married before long. She says he is the son of a lord.” “ Son of the devil, more likely.” “ Well, if they should pair off, after billing and cooing awhile, I hope he will make Miss Clara stand around—for she has j a horrid temper, and Miss Sedgeland lias to put up with her ill humor. She is half the time scolding her, because a working man went with her to meeting on Sunday.” “ Are the old folks rich ? ” “ They are well to do in the world, but they need not turn up their noses at poor folks, for I remember the time when • °ld Mullins couldn’t out such a swarth as he docs now. lie 1 used to keep a barber’s shop, and had some idea of taking my ! father into partnership with him, but father refused to have “3nixpcniumt in all things —Neutral in Notljing.” MACON, GEORGIA, THURSDAY EVENING, APRIL 11, 1850. anything to do with the old skinflint. He held on to every six pence until it squealed, and soon saved change eribugh to commence brokering on a small scale. Folks used to laugh, and say that one pole would answer for both branches of business. Now he uses soft soap, and shaves notes and is ashamed of the more honest and honorable calling of shaving faces. I wish the old man would try his hand on the face of the dandy who is after his daughter.” “ Yes, John, I think he could improve his looks but, then, if a man makes a beast of himself, I can see no earthly nor heavenly reason why he shouldn’t look like one. I believe this stranger who palms himself off as a distinguished for eigner, is an impudent imposter, without either wit, money or morality : and should be sorry to have him marry your young misstress.” “ Bob, you talk like a book.” “ Well, John, I read books, and study human nature; and if I am nat vastly mistaken, the ill-looking, ill-natured and ignorant fopling of whom we have been speaking is a vile fellow, and ought to be exposed. I think it would be a good idea, to get Mr. Raymond to publish him.” “ Do you mean Raymond the printer ? ” “ Yes.” “ He is the very man that went to church with tlic grace ful and lovely Miss Sedgeland last Sunday, and missus lias vowed he shall never darken her door again.” “ What an old goose she must be. Mr. Raymond is loved and respected by all who know him. Several of our oldest, most wealthy and influential citizens have clubbed and raised fends enough to buy a press and types, and have en gaged him to edit a newspaper they design to publish. lie is the famous author of the thrilling sketches published over the initials of G. R.” “ Miss Clara says she wouldn’t touch him with a pair of tongs, and that he is a low fellow, fit only to go with the vulgar people.” “Pshaw! that’s all moonshine. The time may come when she will be glad to he in his company. There is an accom plished and pretty young lady boarding here who gave the mitten to Air. Fitzgammon, but she would be delighted to have Mr. Raymond accept her hand, her heart, and her fortune.” As John surmised, that very evening there was a grand soiree at the house owned and occupied by the haughty, homely Mrs., and the hard-listed, dignified Mr. Mullins. At an early hour the washed, combed, brushed, curled, dressed, perfumed and decorated Mr. Fitzgammon might have been seen ascending a flight of granite steps, and after spelling out the name engraved on the silver door plate, pulled the bell with such violence that the lap dog howled with the ear-ache, and the servants started with alarm, and the busy old mistress wondered wliat on earth was tlic matter. He was escorted into a pleasant room, which was hand somely furnished with the most fashionable furniture. Af ter being introduced to the company present, he made a low bow; tried to smile, scraped his feet upon the carpet, and then awkwardly tumbled like a bale of dry goods upon the sofa ; after which lie looked up with an air of wondrous wis dom and great importance, which seemed to say, wliat think ye of this imported specimen of gentility? i vaidy - .A AL 1 j ,x. TIL iISC hair was oiled, curled and scented. He stared at every per son in the room through his quizzing-glass. Ile wore on his in tellectual face, moustaches, whiskers, imperial and goatee,and looked like an ass that had swallowed a horse and left the tail sticking out of his mouth. His red, carrot fingers were hooped with huge rings, and a broach large enough for a look ing-glass stuck upon his ruffled shirt bosom. Most persons could have seen at a glance, that lie was one of those nondescript creatures, who know but little of themselves externally, except what they learn from the look ing-glass, and who know nothing of themselves internally, except what they feel from the liquor-glass. The following conversation between the parties will afford ail idea of the mental calibre of the distinguished gentleman. “It is a beautiful evening, sir,” remarked one of the com pany.” “ Very foine.” “ 1 low do you like our climate; sir ? ” “ Very foine.” “ Wliat do you think of American scenery ? ” “ It is very foine.” “ You have seen the falls of Niagara, I am told. TV hat do you think of that sublime and beautiful water wonder ? ” “ It is very foine.” “ I think I saw you at the meeting which was recently addressed by the Hon. Daniel Webster ; what did you think of liis eloquent and magnificent speech ? ” “ It was very foine.” “ How do yon feel, sir, when’excited by tlic thrilling, elec trifying eloquence of our Demosthenes?” “ Very foine.” “The sensation must be akin to that occasioned by the trumpeting of the storm when the winds and waves do bat tle. What arc your sensations during a storm at sea. “I am sick at the stomach, at such times; but when wc have a smooth sea and fair wind I feel very foine.” The conversation was just then interrupted by the appear ance of Mrs. Mullins and her daughter. They were dressed and gorgeously bejewelled, and Clara, notv ‘thstanding the unmistakcable lines which ill-temper had traced upon her countenance, was beautiful to look upon. The moment they entered the room Mr. Fitzgammon arose from his scat—and squeezed the hand of Miss Clara and told her she looked very foine. In the course of the evening, he ventured to say to her that she was a charming girl, fit to be the wife of a lord, and that he meant all he said, upon honor. Maria was present at the party, and her aunt availed her solf of an early opportunity to ask her how she would like | the attention of such a man as Air. Fitzgammon. Lest at a distance, said she: “1 could not endure such a band-box dandy, whose head is as empty as his hat.” I ou rude thing, how dare you speak so disparagingly of my company in my own house ! ” “ W hy, aunt, he has been winking at me most imperti nently through his quizzing-glass. He is not a gentleman, and ought to be requested to leave the house. If he does not leave, with your permission, 1 will retire to my room.” I suppose }ou are anxious to see the journeyman prin ter, hut if he dares to show his face within the reach of a poker, I will drive him into the street. I have a will and wa\ to punish upstarts who do not know their own place, and have no regard for the higher Order of society.” At a late hour that night, or rather an early hour the next morning, tbe party broke up; but the unfortunate Mr. litzgannnon had partaken too freely of wine, and sober John was nominated and appointed a committee of one to lead the eminent stranger to his lodgings. The next day it was rumored in different parts of the city that a lord, duke, knight, baronet, or ear], or something else, had fallen in love with Miss Mullins, the broker’s daughter’ Maria received a severe caudleing from her aunt, and ditto from her oonsin, because she spoke so contemptuously of Mr. Fitzgammon. Miss Muffin’s jealousy induced her to believe that several young ladies were not only smitten, but dead in love with the golden calf she worshipped, and in order to make sure of the idol of her affections, she and her parents went to work in good earnest to bring about a match and have the parties united in matrimony, ‘file landlord to whom Mr. Fitzgammon was indebted for board and borrowed money did not press liis claims for fear he might lose a customer. In a short time arrangements were made for the wadding. Milliners, tailors, shoemakers, and confectioners were bu sily at work. The day was selected, the guest 6 were invited. and all the interested parties were on tiptoe of anticipation, when an event occurred which is related as follows : “ Wife did you see this new paper ? ” “ Yes, I saw it, but vou know as well I do, that I have no time to read newspapers. Clara is to be married next Monday, and I shall have to be as busy as a dress maker, or cut a sorry figure at the wedding.” “ But here is a fist pointing to a paragraph about Mr. Fitzgammon, the distinguished foreigner.” “Do read it, pa,” said Clara, smilingly. “I knew he would make a noise in the world. A man of his rank in society, having such a princely fortune, and a variety ot ac complishments, such fascinating manners, and such superb talents, cannot fail to make a great sensation among a people competent to appreciate his genius. Let us hear it, pa.” “ We have received the London Times” “ Hear this, ma, the news is from England. Now I sup pose my envious, jealous saint of a cousin, who told me she believed somebody was an impostor, will see her mistake.” “Do let me read without further interruption, if you please.” “ We received by best night’s mail a copy of the London Times, which contained the following startling and unex pected announcement: —‘John Gammon, who was a groom in the service of William Fitz, Esq., has robbed his master of considerable jewelry and clothing, and it is supjiosed has sailed for America. He is about thirty years of age, of me dium size, has dark eyes, and coarse curly hair, and a sear on his left cheek, which he received from a watchmen who arrested him in the act of whipping his wife. One hundred pounds shall be given to the person who will secure the thief.’ Early this morning one of our efficient police officers read the announcement, and at once put the Fitz and the Gammon together, went to the hotel, where he found a sleeping beauty with a scar on hia loft clioek, and the name of Fitz on some silver spoons in his trunk. Ho awoke and arrested Mr. Gammon, alias Fitzgammon, and es corted him to jail.” Clara fainted when she heard the sad tidings, and after she came to her senses,’she exclaimed: “O, ma! O, pa!— wliat shall I do? My dresses are made, our friends are in vited, every body will laugh at me! I wish I could be shut up in a nunnery ! ” “ What a villain he must be,” said Mr. Mullins. “ lie has a wife now living. He lias been stealing spoons. I shouldn’t wonder if he stole that silver cup off the mantle piece, for I missed it the day after he first called here. I hope the authorities will hang him by the neck until lie is choked to death.” “ Mr. Mullins, who is the editor of that paper ? ” Mr. George Raymoud.” “ 1 wonder if that is the young man who gallanted Maria to meeting that Sunday ? ” “ I suppose it is,” said Mr. Mullins. Well, go and ask him concerning the particulars of this singular and most unhappy affair.” Mr. Mullins went to the office and inquired if Mr. Ray mond was in. “ No, sir,” was the answer; “he has gone to the State House ll* liu recently been elected to the Senate, and consequently site** 1 - -- •* *-> •* her.” “ Is this Mr. Raymond the young man who used to work in the brick block across the way ? ” “ Yes, Sir.” “ When he returns give my compliments to him, .and say that my name is Mullins, and that all the members of my family would be happy to see him.” Mr. Mullins returned and informed the family that the journeyman printer had become, not only an editor, but also a prominent member of the Senate, and that the news re-* speeding Mr. Fitzgammon was, alas, too true. The intelligence spread like wildfire through the city, and afli “ded a rich feast for tale-bearers and scandal-mongers; and those who carry the devil’s mail-bag from door to door, had their hands, hearts and mouths full for a fortnight. The Hon. Mr. Raymond—the low born journeyman—the plebian printer, who belonged to the vulgar herd—called fre quently to see the charming and beautiful Maria Sedgeland ; and although Clara set her cap for him, and tried all the skill of an experienced coquette, she failed to win the heart of the printer who became the happy husband of Maria Sedge land. Clara improved in wisdom as she increased in years, and finally became the contented wife of a worthy and re spectable man who worked as pressman in Mr. Raymond's office. * Thoughts for the Thoughtful. The world is looking glass, and gives forth to every man a reflection of his own face. Frown at it, and it will in turn look sourly upon you; laugh at it and with it. and it is a jolly kind companion; and so let all young persons take their choice. In all waters there are fish which love to swim against the stream; and in every community persons are to be found who delight in being opposed to everybody else. As there is innocence in babes, and imbecility in old ago; even so there is envy in poverty, and arrogance in opulence. A letter timely written is a rivet to tle chain of affection; and a letter untimely delayed, is as rust to the soldier’s mail. Fortune is more equally balanced, after all, than half the world think it; to the rich it gives fear—to the poor, hope. Rapid talkers are generally men of few ideas, jugt as a bot tle with a little liquid empties itself foster than one that is full. Coriolanus, pardoning his ungrateful country, is greater than Regulus suffering martyrdom for his grateful country. j Sweet arc the uses of adversity, which, like the toad, ugly ! and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head. Common minds are hardened by ingratitude; but to supe rior natures it is an occasion for new acts of kindness. I here are some mortals whose bodies are but as the orna mented sepulchre of their dead hearts. Never lean on the world, for if you do, the world will j jump aside and you will get a tumble. Many people drop a tear at the sight of distress who would do better to drop a sixpence. Great men lose somewhat of their greatness by being near : us; ordinary men gain much. Taciturnity is best learned among men who have none, and i loquacity among the taciturn. Promises made in time of affliction require a better memory than people commonly possess. Teach your children well; then, though you leave them lit tle, you give them much. Truth overcomes falsehood, and suspicion cannot live be fore perfect frankness. II your means suit not your ends, pursue those ends which suit your means. The good man is just in little things, the wicked man is lit tle in great ones. He is richest who is contented; content is the riches of na ture. Love, like the plague, is often communicated by clothing and money. He who gives for the sake of thanks, knows not the plea sure of givircr. Let us know the world as we may, it has always a day and night side. , Never carry a sword in your tongue to injure the reputa tion of any man. Make not the sail ton big for the vessel, lest you sink it. All men are idolaters, some of riches, others of honor. Make other men's shipwrecks seamarks to yourself. Selt-esteem is often punished by universal contempt. At the gate which suspicion enters, love goes out. Misfortunes are a kind of discipline of humanity. If a jewel be genuine, care not who says it is not. Forget others’ faults by remembering your own. We do not want precepts as much as patterns. He who enlarges his heart restricts liis tongue. A friend's help is not to be bought at a fair. . Idleness is tlic sepulchre of a living man. Use soft words and hard arguments. * An author is as much honored in his enemies ashisfriem A miser gets rich by seemipg poor; an extravagant m gets poor by seeming rich. A great deal of pride obscures or blemishes a thousanJ go qualities. Be at peace with all mankind, but at war with their vie. Poverty wants some, luxury many, and avarice all thing One of the seve.est struggles in life is that between a proi spirit and an empty purse. Jealousy is always born with love, but does not always dj with it. He must have a long spoon, that would cat with the devi A little wrong done to another is a great wrong done t ourselves. Cato says, ‘the best way to keep good facts in memory is t renew them with new.’ A civil answer to a rude speech costs not much, and worth a great deal. A spare and simple diet contributes to the prolongation < life. A great fortune is a great slaver}', and thrones are but ur easy seats. lie’s the best physician that knows the wortlilessness of tl most medicines. Virtue is made for difficulties, and grows stronger an brighter for such trials. When a man is not liked, whatever he dix-s is amiss. The extremes of hatred, love and virtue are alike silent. The fashion wears out more apparel than the man. A wise man makes more opportunities than he finds. There never was a hypocrite so disguised, but he hady< some mark or other to be known by. A lie has no legs, but scandal has wings. God and eternity are the two pillars that uphold the un verse. Pleasure is like a cordial—a little does not injure, butte much destroys. The family of fools is ancient. Necessity never made a good bargain. Dead men open the eyes of the living. 1 The useful and the beautiful are never far asunder. It is better to be alone than in bad company. Speaking without thinking is Tike shooting before takin aim. . Model SchOOt System.—The State of Wisconsin In the noblest basis for a school fund of any Suite of equal mean! in the Union. It consists of a domain of 2,281 square mile* embracing 1,500 townships, one square mile each, besides 78 square mile sections, given by Congress on the admission the State into the Union, making in all 1,600,000 acres, wliie is valued at 81 70 per acre, giving a fund of 2,482,000. In ai 1 diton to this, all property that may accrue to tlio Stut* k>-^M cheat or forfeiture, and the money received for fines, arev*4M| aaixu 10 tlic uutu. me Const;tHtJßH*unrftUlt rcquiH that eaeli township shall raise for the support of eoimrn schools an annual tax of not less than half the amount reee ed from the fund. The estimated amount of distribution in 1851 is set do at $106,000, and there being about 100,000 children, \ give one dollar for each scholar. Teachers’ Institutes h! been established in every county in the State save one. Tin are 25 organized counties, and 316 towns, in which there 1 1,430 school districts, and in 50 towns not reported, 350 < tricts. The season of teaching averages over nine months The average wages of teachers is, males sls 23; feina $6 02. The valuation of the school-houses is $75,810 75 number of brick 26, stone 26, frame 204. log 350. Die Ilia est valuation of any school house is $5,000, and the lowest cents. N umber of select and private schools 04, and of corporated academies 2. All this is the glorious beginning a Suite which twenty years ago was a wilderness, almost u broken.— New-York Sun. Froin 4 “ Andrews’ Life in New York.” The Toilet. BY A LAKY. A Those ladies who are desirous of preserving their persoi charms from a premature decay, must, in the first place, p especial attention to thd state of their general health. AN’ it out this, no artificial means will preserve that bloom and fres ness which possess so irresistible a charm for the mind 11 fined with genuine taste, judgment, or feeling. To the mai tenancc of good health, regular habits, an even and cheer temper, a due attention to diet, with bathing or frequent ab! tion of the whole body in water, and above all, early risii are indispensable. To preserve a fair and bright complexion, is one of t surest indications of a rightly directed mind. The nobler pa of woman is a jewel of inestimable price, and it argues b little sensibility as to its real value, to be indifferent to tile a pearauee or perfection of the casket in which, for the presei the Creator has enshrined it. In a healthy person, inoistu is continually evolved; and this is generally united with oily secretion, especially under the arms, Ac.; this aris from the unctuous parts of the flesh, and is frequently four to emit an unpleasant odor ; but this, with most other ineo veniencies, may be removed usually by daily ablutions clean water, cold or tepid, according to the season, and 1 the moderate use of perfumery. It may lx* improper to remind the fair, that the healthy at delicate tints of the complexion are liable to be seriously ii jnred by too much exposure to the sun and air, though t< much careful concealment from these is almost as fatal beauty. A moderate exposure to the influence of the lig and mild air of the mornings, in summer and autumn, ripe beauty, and gives to it an appearance of more delicate lust and heightened charms. Brilliant Complexion. —Take of the second water barley one pint, and strain it through a piece of fine linei add twelve drops of the balm of Mecca; shake it well togetl er, until the balm is thoroughly incorporated with the watt which will be effected when the water assumes a whitish a pearance. Before applying, wash the face with soft wate if used once a day, it will beautify the face, preserve the fres ness of youth, and give a surprising brilliancy to the skin. Freckles.— Freckles are occasioned by exposure to t heat, and give to the complexion a very disagreeable appea ance. They are removed by the following applications, tl surfaces of the skin having been previously softened by a litt mild balsam or emollient paste: Freckle Paste. —One ounce of bitter almonds: ot ounce of barley flour. Mix with a sufficient quantity of ho ey to make the whole into a smooth paste, with \vhi< the face, particularly where the freckles appear, is to be anoi tod at night, and the paste washed off in the morning. Tiie Teeth.— The beauty of even and well-set rows teeth, is universally admitted. Indeed, it is an ornament I no means to be neglected ; and no lady desirous of pleasii will fail to give her teeth due care and attention. They shou be washed and brushed at least twice a day, with soft wate and rinsed after every meal, to have the breath as “ sweet 1 violets.” Fragrant Breath. —Take two ounces of powder of myrrh eight ounces of Peruvian bark ; thirty-two drops of oil cinnamon ; thirty-two drops of oil of cloves; twenty-foi ounces of prepared chalk ; eight ounces of orris powder, three ounces of rose pink. Mix well together, and use tl brush. Take eight drops of muriatic acid, in half a H