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leave to sell Land ami Negroes, must be published weekly for sou
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mission from Guardianship,/ortg days.
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(*CtiMster.s and others who will act as Agents for the “Citizen”
•say retain 20 percent, for their trouble, on all cosh subscriptions for
■OFFICE on Mullierry Street, East of the Floyd House and near the
■<fljr -p inf o Corner,
TIIE MOTHER’S JEWEL.
BV MISS HANNAH F. GOULD.
.lewel most precious thy mother to deck,
Clinging so fast by the chain oil my neck,
Locking thy little white fingers to hold
Closer and closer the circlets of gold—
Stronger than these are the links that confine
Near my fond bosom this treasure of mine;
Gift from iny Maker, so pure and so dear,
Almost l hold thee with trembling and fear !
Whence is this gladness so holy and new,
Felt as I clasp thee, or have thee in view ?
What is the noose that slips over my mind,
Drawing it back, if I leave thee behind ?
Soft is the bondage, but strong is the kind—
Oh 1 when the mother her babe has forgot,
Ceasing from joy in so sacred a trust,
I >ark should her eye bo, and closed for the dust.
Spirit immortal, with light from above,
Over this new-opened fountain of love,
Fresh from my heart as it gushes so free.
Sparkling, and playing, and leaping to thee,
Tainting the rainbow of hopes till they seem
Brighter than reason—too true for a dream:
What shall I call thee ? My glory ? My son ?
These cannot name thee, thou beautiful one 1
Brilliant celestial! so priceless in worth,
I low shall I keep thee unspotted from earth ?
1 low shall I save thee from ruin by crime,
Dimmed not by sorrow, untarnished by time ?
Where, from the thief and the robber who stray
Over life's path shall I hide thee away ?
Pair is the setting, but richer the gem,
Oh ! thou ‘ll be coveted—sought for by them !
I must devofe thee to One that is pure,
Touched by whose brightness thine own will be sure,
Borne to I [is bosom, no vapor can dim.
Nothingeftn win, or pluck thee from Him.
Seamless and holy the garment he folds,
Over his jewels, that closely he holds,
1 fence unto Ilim be my little one given 1
Yes, “for of such is the kingdom -if Heaven
TIIE GERMAN WATCH SONG.
Hear, my masters, what I tell 1
Ten has struck now by the bell,
Tenure the commandments given,
To teach mankind the way to Heaven.
Human watch no good yield can os,
God will watch us, God will shield us;
May be, through his heavenly light,
Give us all a happy night.
II ear, my masters, what I tell!
’Thus struck eleven by the bell,
Eleven were the apostle's sound,
Who did teach the whole world round.
Hear, my masters, wliat I tell 1
Twelve has struck now by the bell,
Twelve did follow Jesus’ name,
Suffered with him all his shame.
Human watch, &.
JTcar, my masters, what T tell!
One lias struck now by the bell,
One is God, and one alone,
Who doth hear us when we groan,
Human watch, &e.
Hear, my masters, what I tell!
Two has struck now by the bell,
Two paths before our steps divide ;
Men beware, and well decide.
Human watch. &c.
Hear, my masters, what I tell 1
Three has struck now by the bell,
Threefold is what's hallowed most.
The Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Human watch, Ac.
Hear, my masters, what I tell!
Four has struck now by the bell,
Four times our land we plough and dress ;
Thy heart, O man, till’st thou that less.
Human watch no good can yield us,
God will watch us. Gol will shield us ;
May He, through His heavenly might,
Give us all a peaceful night.
What think you of this bit of poetry, kind reader, touch
ng spring flowers T
The flowers are nature’s jewels, with whose wealth
She decks her summer beauty: Trimrosc sweet,
With blossoms of pure gold; enchanting rose,
Tiiat like a virgin queen, salutes the sun,
Dew-diademed; the perfumed pink that studs
The earth with clustering ruby; hyacinth,
The hue of Venus’ tresses myrtle green,
That maidens think a charm for constant love,
And give night-kisses to it, and so dream;
Fair lily ’. woman's emblatn, and oft twined
Bound bosoms, where its silver is unseen —
fsuch is their whiteness; downcast violet,
‘1 urning uway its sweet head from the wind,
As she her delicate and startled ear
From passion’s tale.
From GoUcy's Lady’s Book, for June, 1850.
The Spring Bonnet,
BY ANNA WILMOT.
“My dear Carry,” said Martha Grier to her young friend
Caroline Mayfield—her face was grave and her tones serious
—” I wish you would give up this woridiness, this carnal plea
sure-seeking, to which you are so devoted.”
“ Don't preach to me, Martha,” replied Caroline, iu a gay
tone, “Tin quite as good as you arc.”
“ And a great deal better, I hope,” said Martha Grier.”
“ But our own good is nothing—it will not stive us. 4 Come
out from among them, and be ye separate,’ are the words of
solemn admonition spoken to every living soul.”
“Come out from among whom ?” asked Caroline.
‘‘From among worldlings.”
“From among the evil—so I understand the injunction.”
“VS ell, and what is the difference?” said Martha Grier.
“Oh, a great deal. The evil are they who purpose and
seek to do wrong; while the worldlings, as you call them,
tft-c often very good kind of people-—in fact, a great deal bet
ter tluin many of your over-pious, self-righteous sort of folks,
who coolly consign sueli as I am to a place I have no fancy
for, and to which I shall take good care not to go.”
“You speak lightly on a serious subject, Carry.”
“ You jest with religion.”
“Beg your pardon, dear; I have never done that in mv
“Then I don’t comprehend you.” said Martha.
“I am aware of that. Feople like you see only within the
litn:t of a very small circle. I should be sorry to give you
the keys of heaven and hell.”
“Don’t look so shocked, my dear.”
“Didn’t you say, just now, that you never jested with reli
“I did say so, and I repeat it.”
“1 don’t know how I am to interpret your present language.”
“Don’t you? Understand it, then, as only referring to
those who, like yourself, limit tlie heavenly life to a life of sim
ple piety, and account charity as of little worth ;*to those who
separate the world and religion, instead ot bringing religion
down into the very centre of action, and making it the heart
and lungs to common society.”
Martha looked surprised at this remark. There was a
meaning in it that she but faintly comprehended.
“Be not conformed to the world,” said she, oracularly ;
“but be ye transformed by tlic renewing of your minds.”
“What do you mean by conforming to the world ?!! asked
“Following after its fashions, and entering into its plea
And, as Martha said this, she let her eyes wander mean
ingly over the handsomely dressed person of her young friend.
“1 believe you hold dancing to he sinful,” said Caroline, as
well as opera and play-going ?”
“1 do, most assuredly,” replied the young devotee.
“Andfashionable dressing ?”
“Certainly. In all this I see only conformity to the world,
which is strictly forbidden.”
“Is it not possible that a conformity of the spirit may be
meant ?” asked Caroline.
“And is an external conformity possible without an internal
one ?” said the friend.
“No, certainly not; but in the false maxims and evil princi
ples which govern the world, we will be more likely to find
the origin of the real evil acts, than in a mere fondness for
dress or in a desire for innocent pleasure.”
“Innocent pleasure 1 Do not the words contradict each
‘Each pleasure hath its poison, too,
And every sweet a snare.’”
“And so,” returned Caroline, “has every good thing; but
the poison and the snare lie in its perversion from its proper
use. A lid, depend upon it, Martha, you are in quite as much
danger of perverting things from their true order as I am.”
“I low so ?”
“True righteousness—l will speak as plainly as you have
spoken to me—true righteousness may be verging, in you,
closely upon sell-righteousness, while over-piety is destroying
Martha Grier seemed half offended by this sort of plain
speaking. She had, in a spir.t of selt-riglitcousncss, assumed
to lecture her friend on the subject of worldly folly and car
nal-mindcncss —not supposing, for a moment, that there ex
isted any room for retaliation. Perceiving the effect of her
words, Caroline changed the subject by saying—
“l saw some beatiful new style bonnets this morning. Have
you selected one for the spring yet ?”
“Yes; I ordered one yesterday.”
“Who is making it ?”
“Ah! does she make your bonnets ?” said Caroline.
“Yes; she has done the millinery of our family for the last
two or three years. Her mother and younger sisters arc al
most entirely dependent on her, and we throw everything in
her way that we can. Besides, she is reasonable in her
charges ; and we like to encourage the poor.”
“Has she good taste ?” asked Caroline.
“Oh, very good.”
“Then I will get her to make my bonnet. I saw one to
day that pleased me exactly.”
“I wish you would. It is a charity to give her work.”
After leaving her friend, Caroline Mayfield called upon Miss
Wheeler and gave an order for a bonnet.
“I want it this week, remember,” said Caroline.
“I have a good deal of work on hand to be finished by Sat
urday night; but I will try ray best to get yours done.”
Oh, it must be done.” replied Caroline, gayly. “I wish to
show it oft* at eliureh next Sunday!”
The young milliner smiled at'the remark of her customer,
made jestingly, and said that unless some unforeseen event
occurred to prevent it, she would have the bonnet done.
“Very well, I will depend on you,” said Caroline, and went
Saturday evening came; but no bonnet had been sent
home for her. “I must see about this,” said she ; “can't be
disappointed in my new spring bonnet. Have set my heart on
showing it off at church to-morrow.” So she drew on her
things; and taking her little brother with her for company,
started off for themiliner’s.
“Can I see Miss Wheeler?” asked she of a child who
opened the door of the modest dwelling where the bonnet
“Yes, ma'am,” replied the child ; “she is in the work-room.
Will you walk up?”
Caroline tripped lightly up stairs, and pushed open the door
of the work-room. The only inmate was Miss Wheeler, and
she sat with her face bent down on a table, and two unfinish
ed bonnets lying near. She did not move when Caroline en
tered, nor look up, untH the young lady placed her hand upon
her and spoke. Then she started, and turned a pale, weary
face towards her visitor.
“Oh, Miss Mayfield,” said she, forcing a feeble smile to
her face, “you have come for you bonnet. It isn t quite done
yet; but I will finish it before Igo to bed, and send it to jou
early in the morning. Both of my girls have been sick lot
three days, and I've been up all night for two nights, ti) ing
to get through the work promised. A our bonnet and Miss
Oder's arc the only two that remain unfinished. But I won t
“3nirepcnircut in all tljings —Neutral iu Notljiug.”
MACON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, MAY, 24, 1850.
“How long will it take you to finish these bonnets ?” asked
“I shall have to work late ; but I'll get them done.’’
“llow late ?”
“Till twelve o’clock—or perhaps later.”
“No, Miss W heeler,” said the young lady, firmly, yet kind
ly, “that must not be. You shall neither overwork yourself
nor break the Sabbath by worldly labor on my account. Let
my bonnet lie over until next week ; and I can safely speak
for Martha Grier, that she will bear cheerfully her disap
pointment. Tutup your work, and take the rest you need.”
“My head has ached dreadfully all day, and now the pain
half blinds me,” said Miss Wheeler.
“Then put by your work, by all means,” urged the kind
hearted young lady. “My old bonnet looks very well; I wore
it to church last Sunday, and can wear it again to-morrow.”
“I'm afraid Miss Grier would not be pleased.
“She’s not unreasonable and cruel. I know Martha better
than that. Send her word how it is, and she will cherfully bear
“You are very kind,” said the sick and weary young wo
man. “I feel as if it would be wrong to tax my strength too
far. Much depends on me. If I were to get sick, I don't
know liow mother would get along.”
“Tut away every tiling and go to bed at once, Miss Wheeler.
If you finish my bonnet and send it home, 1 won’t wear it
to-morrow. So that is settled.”
Thus urged, Miss Wheeler laid aside licr work; and, with
her head aching almost to distraction, after sending one of her
brothers to inform Miss Grier that she was too sick to finish her
bonnet, sought her chamber and rest for her weary limbs.—
She had just fallen into a gentle sleep, when her brother, who
had gone on the errand to Miss Grier, returned, and entered
“Mary! Mary!”—cried lie, placing his hand on her, and
arousing her from slumber—“ Mary !”
Miss W heeler started up; but, before slie liad time to ask
a question, the boy said—
“ Miss Grier says she must have her bonnet to-night.”
“Did you tell her that l was sick*?” inquired the sister,
binding her hands across her aching forehead as she spoke.
“Yes ; but she said she didn’t care— she wanted her bon
net and must have it, if you worked all night to get it done.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed the sick, exhausted girl, as she sat up
in bed, still clasping her throbbing brows.
“‘She needn’t think to put meoffin this way,’ 1 heard her
say to her mother,” added the boy.
“Are you sure that you told her I was siek ?” asked the
“Oh yes; I told her twice. But she was angry, and said
site didn’t care—siek or well, her bonnet must be done.”
“It is hard,” murmured the poor girl, as she commenced
slowly putting on the clothes she had a little while before taken
off. “Oil! how my head does ache !” she added, after a few
moments, pausing in her work of re-dressing herself, and
leaning her head against the wall near which she stood ; “it
seems as if it would burst.”
The next day was the peaceful Sabbath, the season of rest
from labor. The. sleep of Caroline Mayfield had been sweet,
and in the morning she arose with tranquil feelings. When
church time came, she was ready to go with the family to the
liouso where God is worshipped, even though anew bonnet
did not grace her head. Great was her surprise, however,
soon after taking her seat in church, to see her friend Martha
Grier enter, wearing the new spring bonnet which she had
thought lay still unfinished in Miss Wheeler's work-room.—
As the over-pious young lady walked no the aisle, it was
plain, from the particular motion and air of her head, in what
particular direction her thoughts were centered.
“What can tills mean ?” thought Caroline Mayfield, as she
looked at the bonnet of her young friend. “Surely, Martha
did not compel that siek girl to work half the night, in
weariness and pain, that she might exhibit anew bonnet to her
fellow-worshippers ? Did not make her break the Sabbath,
that she might keep it a little more to her own satisfaction ?”
“Thoughts like these kept crowding themselves into the
mind of Caroline Mayfield, to the exclusion of ideas more fit
ting for the place and occasion.
After the services were ended, she moved, with the retiring
congregation, slowly from the place of worship. Just as she
reached the pavement, she felt a hand upon her arm. Turn
ing, she met the half smiling, half serious face of Martha
Grier. The smile was natural; the serious look, the forced
expression. The'first came from the thought of her beauti
ful new bonnet; the last was constrained, as fitting the occa
sion. Meaningly, yet most involuntarily, her eyes glanced to
the head of her friend.
“So you didn’t get j'our new bonnet,” said she, in a low
voice, as soon as they were a little away from the crowd.—
“1 low comes that ?”
“Miss Wheeler was too unwell to finish it 4 ” replied Caro
line, with a seriousness that she felt and did not attempt to
“Oh, then, you let her put you off with that excuse ! But
she couldn’t get away from her promise to me so easily.”
“Don’t you regard sickness as an excuse for the non-per
forniance of a contract ?” said Caroline, looking earnestly at
her young friend, and speaking in a very serious voice.
44 Sickness ? Oh yes, sickness; but ” and she hesita
ted, for Caroline was gazing into her face with a look that dis
turbed the pleasant elation of licr feelings,
“But what ?” asked Caroline.
“Miss W heeler wasn't sick
“Suppose we call there on our way from church, and sec
how it is with her.”
“Oh no; I don't care about calling there to-day,” said Mar
“It’s Sunday, for one thing.”
“The better the day, the better the deed, you know. But,
to speak seriously, Martha, 1 think it your duty to call.”
“Why so?” asked Miss Grier.
“In all probablility, by requiring the poor, overwearied, ex
hausted girl to work until two or three o'clock on Sunday
morning to get your new bonnet done, that you might show
it ofl’ in church to-day, you have made her sick in real earn
est.. Atleast, it is your duty, as a professing Christian, to
call and see whether this be so or not.”
Miss Mayfield felt pretty strongly on the subject, and she
spoke with some severity.
“Carry, why do you talk in this way to me said Mar
tha Grier, her manner changing.
“I speak only tlic words of truth and soberness.” returned
Caroline; “and these you should be willing to hear. One
whose piety shines forth so conspicuously as yours should see
thatshe does not neglect her charity. Come, will you call
with me on Miss Wheeler ?”
“Yes, as long as you seem so earnest about it. No harm
can be done. Most likely you will not find her at home.”
Little more passed between the two young ladies. They
were soon at the humble abode of the milliner. Mrs. Whee
ler, the mother of the girl they had called to inquire about,
opened the door for them.
“llow is your daughter ?”*hskcd Caroline.
“She is very ill to-day,” replied Mrs. Wheeler. Won't
you walk in ?”
The two young ladies entered.
“Very ill, did you say ?” remarked Caroline, as the door
“Yes, very ill, lam sorry to say. She was hurried last
week, and her two girls going home sick, she worked nearly
all night for three nights in succession to get through with
her engagements. She was quite ill last night, but sat up un
til three o’clock to finish a bonnet. I tried to get her to-bed ;
but she wouldn’t give up until it was done. Then, as the last
stitch was takers she fell from her chair in a faint.”
“And she is very siek now ?” said Caroline.
“Yes, very siek. I sent for the doctor. He didn't say much ;
but I know lie thinks her bad. She's quite out of her head.”
“Out of her head ?”
“Yes. And she rolls about on her pillow, and balks all the
time. Oh dear! I feel very much troubled. Will you walk
up and see her ?”
“Shall we go up, Martha ?” said Caroline, looking towards
her young friend.
“Tcrhaps we’d better not, as she’s so ill,” replied Martha.
“It will do her no good, but may disturb her.”
“ Very true. No, ma'am we won’t see her now,” said Car
oline, turning to Mrs. Wheeler; “but I'll call around this af
ternoon. I hope it may not be sc serious as you fear.”
“You are very kind. Oh yes, I hope she maybe better
soon ; but I’m afraid. When one breaks down from being
overworked, as she lias been, they don't always get back their
“Your new bonnet has been purchased at too great a
price!” said Miss Mayfield, with some sternness of manner,
as soon as she was in the street again with Martha Grier. She
felt strongly on tlic subject, and determined to give her friend
the full force of the reproof she deserved, even at the risk of
offending her. “ Wicked and worldly-minded as I am, Mar
tha, I had too much religion to do what you have done. So
far from requiring Miss Wheeler to over-tax her strength, in
order that I might have anew bonnet for Sunday, I required
her to lay the unfinished work aside ihe moment I understood
that she was indisposed. I not only spoke for myself, but for
you also—thinking that you, who served God so devotedly,
could but regard with humane feelings the poor, whom he
hath said are always with us. But it sec-ms tl lit I gave you
credit for more charity than you possessed. * By your own
acknowledgement, you required her to resume the work I
had, speaking for you, raid that she might lay aside. Tar
don this freedom of speech. I say what I do, not to pain you,
but to make yon sensible of your error. Tiety and charity
must go hand in hand. True religion is to regard man as
well as to worship God.”
The two young friends were now at a point where tlieir
ways divided. The eyes of Martha were upon the pavement.
“Good morning,” said she, in a low voice, as they paused.
Her face was averted.
“Good morning,” returned Caroline, in atone kinder than
it was a moment before.
They met a few hours afterwards, in the sick-room of Ma
ry Wheeler. Martha’s new bonnet did not grace her head
on that occasion. She could not. The sight of it rebuked
her too strongly. Happily, the illness of the young milliner
did not prove as disastrous as was at first feared. In less than
a week, she was able to be at work again, though several
weeks elapsed ere her health was entirely restored.
Martha and Caroline are still friends; but the former has
not ventured to read thclatter a lecture on the sin of fashion
able dressing, carnal-mindedness, and pleasure-taking.
Rules for Letter-Writing:
Few persons excel in the important, and with ma
ny the every clay business of epistolary correspon
dence* The following; rules may afford some useful
hints to those who tire not experienced in this de
partment of composition.
1. Should not strike for a dignified style, and
harmonious periods. It should be neat and easy. —
Labor and effort should not appear.
2. In answering a business letter, never introduce
any particular subject until you have answered all
3. In writing business letters, never use satin or
gold edged paper. Affectation.
4. Commence with Sir , on the line above tlie one
on which you write.
5. Do not use Dear Sir, unless you are intimate
with the person.
C. When you have commenced with Sir, do not
use it in the body of the letter.
7. Do not date the letter at top, unless it is a
business letter; hut place it under the name of the
person on the left of your own.
8. Tn writing to a gentleman, not an intimate
friend, use a form similar to this : —I have the hon
or to be your Ob’t Scrv’t.
0. It is very common to give the title Esq. to
those not having lawfully received it.
10. In declining any office, or being a candidate
for any office, state it thus:—“Gentlemen, I decline
tlie election,” and add the reasons.
11. Wafers are seldom used in refined society.—
Business letters are sealed with red wax and stamp
ed with your arms.
12. Letters to gentlemen should be sealed and
stamped in like manner.
13. Colored wax is used on letters to ladies, with
your arms on a motto.
14. Billets, Notes of invitations maybe written
either on billet paper, or a common card and enclo
sed in an envelope.
15. Letters of presentation are not sealed, but
folded in an envelope.
10. In sending invitations or replies, never devi
ate from tlie ordinary phrase —“Mrs. A. requests
the honor of Mr. B.’s company at tea. ‘ —“Mr. B.
has tlie honor of accepting Mrs. A.’s polite invita
tion.” Tuesday noon.
17. Always return an answer immediately after
tlie reception of a note of invitation.
18. All business letters should, if possible, be re
plied to on the day of their reception.
19. When it can be done, send in your letter of
presentation, that it my be read before you are seen.
20. Never write a letter which you would be
ashamed to have read, if circumstances should re
21. After a correspondence has closed between a
gentleman and lady, the letters should be exchang
22d. Should never show private letters.
23. Gentlemen prying into ladies’views and sen
timents—meaning nothing by their letters —is un
gentlemanly and coarse.
24. A gentleman should never continue a corres
pondence with a lady without some ultimate inten
25. On the part of cither sex, the habit of pry
into each other’s for the purpose of ascertaining their
influence, while meaning nothing by their expres
sions of regard, is the vilest species of hypocrisy.
A Word about Apprentices.
It is a source of unspeakable pleasure to us that
the Organ is welcomed in thousands of families as
a friendly counsellor, and we have ample encour
agement to believe that those families give us cred
it for a sincere desire to promote their best interests.
We are persuaded, in advance, that they will receive
what we are now about to say, in the same spirit of
We wish to speak more particularly to those fam
ilies whose sons are sustaining the relation of ap
prentices, and we would call their attention to the
fact that multitudes of youth in that relation are
suffering incalculable damage in tlieir characters and
! prospects for tlic future by their instability, dissatis
faction, and disposition to rove from place to place,
I and from one employer to another during their mi-
nority. Many lads, after spending a few months at
one place, are tempted by a trifling advance iu wa
ges, oi by the hope of having a little more liberty,
or by some other supposed advantage, to change
masters. And too often parents fall in with the
whims and caprice of their children, and sanction
their instability. The consequence is, their boys
acquire vagrant and wandering habits, and grow up
ignorant of their business, and without having laid
a foundation of future success, in the friendship and
confidence of those who have known and employed
A lad of good principles who steadily adheres to
a good master, till he finishes his approniieeship* lias
, already won half the battle of life, and be commen
ces as journeyman or master with great advantage,
lie has formed a character, which is the best soit of
capital. He carries with him the respect and confi
dence of his fellows who have grown up with him—
of his master whom he hath faithfully served, and
of that portion of the public who have seen his ear
ly life. Such persons almost always prosper, often
entering into their master’s business, and succeed
ing to his prosperity. Restless, wandering boys,
on the contrary, almost, always fail as men. They
are remembered as a sort of young vagrants who
were always roving, and who never stayed long
enough in one stiuation, to acquire a good name.
Look at the thousands of honored, prosperous
mechanics in this city, who have risen bv tlieir in
dustry, honesty and skill, and you will find that
they commenced their career in a steady, stable in
dustrious apprenticeship. Look at those other
thousands of mechanics who live from hand to
mouth, always short of funds, often out of employ
ment, and never above the lowest rounds of the lad
der, and you will find that when boys they were
restless, unsettled and changeful. Parents, think
of these things. You whose boys are destined to
learn some useful trade or art, first be careful to find
a good master for them, and then use all your influ
ence to make them steadv and faithful. Shut your
ears to those trivial complaints which all boys make,
I and encourage them to persevere to the end of their
rninoritv. They will bless you by and by, when they
come to reap tlie reward of tlieir constancy and fi
delity to tlie obligations of their boyhood.— Organ.
Progress of (he Confederacy.
The subjoined table, which we find in the St.
Louis Reveille, stating the times of the admission of
the several States into the Union, gives more knowfl
edge of the progress of this country, in territory,
population, and national greatness, than could be
comprised in volumes of speculation. It will be
seen that Vermont was the first State east of the Al
leghanies admitted, and Kentucky the first on the
western slope of the Alleghanian chain.
When we remember, appositely remarks the Re
veille, that at tlie close of the Revolutionary war
there was not, probably, as many as one thousand
white men in all tlie w estern States, and when we
consider that a population of sixty thousand souls
has been required by law to entitle a State toad
mission into the Union, the dates at which the
States of the great valley were admitted exhibit a
rapidity of improvement and advancement altogeth
er unparalleled in the history of nations. But not
only has this great valley been populated and re
claimed to the uses of civilization—the greatest
mountain barrier in the world has been mounted bv
American enterprise, and the foundation of new
States laid, fronting on the Pacific, those ancient
countries in w hich science and civilization had their
1 Delaware - - - 7 Dec. 1787
2 Pennsylvania - - 12 Pec. 1787
3 New Jersey - - 18 Dec. 1787
4 Georgia - - - - 2 Jan. 1788
5 Connecticut 9 Jan. “
G Massachusetts - - G Feb. “
7 Maryland - - - 28 April, “
8 South Carolina - 28 May, “
9 New Hampshire - 21 June, 44
10 Virginia - - 2G June, 44
11 New York - - - 20 July, 1789
12 North Carolina - 29 Nov. 1790
13 Rhode Island - - 4 May, 1791
14 Vermont - - 1 March, 44
15 Kentucky - - - \ June, 1792
1G Tennessee - 1 June, 1790
17 Ohio - - - - 27 Nov. 1802
18 Louisiana - - - 8 April, 1812
19 Indiana, - - - 11 Dec. 181 G
20 Mississippi - - 10 Dec. 1817
21 Illinois - - - -3 Dec. 1818
22 Alabama -*- - 4 Dec. 1819
23 Maine - - - - 15 March, 1820
24 Missouri - - - 10 Aug. 1821
25 Arkansas - - - 15 June, 1836
26 Michigan, - - - 20 June, 1837
27 Florida, -- - - 7 March, 1844
28 Texas 29 Dec. 1845
29 Wisconsin - - - 29 Dec. 18 48
30 lowa 1849
Affection—Such as would make a Novel,—
We seldom meet with such an instance of affection
and self-sacrifice, as that displayed lately by a poor
Irishman in this city, lie had been in tlie employ
of a gentleman, who lias a large number of hands
engaged, and w hen the first pay-day came, his em
ployer could only give him a dollar on his week’s
work. The second pay-day came round in its turn;
the employer paid off his hands, and was congratu
lating himself that his money held out, when looking
around, he discovered the Irishman to whom lie had
only given a dollar the week before. The gentle
man felt deeply mortified at overlooking him, and
his consequent inability to pay him off. Said he:
“James, I am sorry, but I have only one dollar
for you again. Why did you not speak ?”
‘'Sure, Sir, you was busy, and I could wait your
convenience,’’ was the reply.
“Can you possibly get along with a dollar ? —I
will get you some more Monday morning.”
“A dollar'll do; I’ve been living on a dollar a
wake since I’ve been in the country. I’m sav in’ up
for the wife and children mould Ireland.
“But your shoes are off your feet, and your coat is
nearly gone —you'll want some clothing. 4 ’
“Ilivil a bit do my feet care, or back aither, for
that; I’ll let the money save up in your hands till I
get enough to send for the old woman. Here’s three
dollars I’ve saved, which your honor will plaze to
keep for me.”
“Wait here a moment,” said the gentleman, as he
stepped out. In a few minutes, however, he re
turned with a substantial pair of boots and a com
fortable coat for his workman.
The tears rolled down the poor fellow’s cheeks as
he received tlie gifts; and, as the door opened for
his egress, he muttered :
“God bless your honor; the wife’s heart will soon
be easy, and the children’s too!" — Cir. SVan/xinJ.
For the Seorpia Citizen.
As I was going on to say, not only is it true that
those who speak such long words, some of which
are totally foreign, some mongrel, i c, of no particu
lar language, but a mixture of Indian, modern Itab
ian and French; Negro, Spanish, English, Dutch,
and some with english prefixes or terminations. In
a word, words are used, by those who frequently
pass for learned men, that has * no root in any lan
guage under heaven, but are just then coined by the
speaker or writer, as a word cf great import, and
not to be lost sight of. Again, there is another class
of collegians, who speak great words and- write long
sentences, and if called on to give a clear sensible
definition of the words used, or even to spell them
correctly, could not do either. For example, the let
ters “Chyrography.” These letters, in the first
place do not form an English word, and in the se
cond place, as it stands, it is no word, for the spel
ling is incorrect. The word above alluded to is a
compound of two Greek words; I suppose the pro
per spelling of this word to be “chi.” instead of
“chy.” lint let me ask of what use is it to speak or
write such words for the use of those who do not
understand the English Language \ And especially
where the true meaning of the word is still conceal
ed by the speaker or writer. As well make use of
the ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphics, as to use such
words to the common people of Georgia. It will
do well enough when Greek meets Greek, to speak
Greek. But to speak or write Greek or Latin, (es
pecially if the speaker does not understand himself)
to the citizens of Georgia, is worse than downright
nonsense. Not only is the speaker or writer misun
derstood, if understood at all, hut his time and la
bor are both-consumed, as well that of the hearer or
reader, and nought is left of all this vast, pompous
display of words, of which many of the writers of
the present day arc inclined to the use of, but disap
pointment on the part of the writer, that lie is not
understood by the reader; and astonishment and
time lost on the part of the reader, that any one
should be sucli a gull as to speak or write Greek for
the mass of the Georgia citizens to understand.—
Each quits the other with disgust, one because tho
Georgia farmer is so ignorant that he cannot under
stand a few Greek or Latin words, which had been
used merely to show his learning; the other because
t the speaker or writer is such a consummate dunce as
hi speak or write Greek or Latin to the fanners of
Georgia, expecting farmers, who are plain men, and
whose means and opportunities have been limited to
only a partial English education, to be Greek or
Latin scholars: ami this too, w hen it must he known
to a learned man in the history of Georgia, that ful
ly three-fourths of her citizens have used but tw'o
or three lsx>ks at school, to wit: the spelling book,
a small dictionary, and an arithmetic, and had to
leave school before they were adepts in either.—
Such are the large mass of Georgia citizens, to whom
a certain class of scholars address themselves
with so much zeal, learning and fluency. Oh shame!
Why not speak or write so as that the multitude
may understand ? It is a clear case, that a learned
man can use plain ami simple words. And then it
is equally clear, that the unlearned, and those with
little learning, as well as those with much, will read
ily comprehend every word.
At present, I shall conclude this letter with a short
extract from a letter written by Dr. Benjamin Kush,
on the subject of education :
“The idea of the necessity of a knowledge of those
languages, (meaning Greek and Latin,) as an intro
duction to the knowledge of the English Language,
begins to lose ground. It is certainly a very absurd
oue. We have several English schools in our city,
in which hoys and girls of twelve and fourteen years
old have been taught to speak and write our native
language with great grammatical propriety. Some
of these children would disgrace our bachelors and
masters of arts, who have spent five or six years in
the study of the Latin and Greek Languages in our
American Colleges. It is true these Latin and Greek
scholars, after a while, acquire a know ledge of our
language : but it is in the same slow way, in which
some men acquire a knowledge of the forms of good
breeding. Throe months instruction will often im
part more of both, than a whole life spent in acqui
ring them simply by imitation.
“Where there is one Latin scholar, who is obli
ged, in the course of his life, to speak or write a La
tin sentence, there are hundreds who are not under
that necessity. Why then shouLL we spend years
in teaching that which is so rarely required in future
life ? To read the language, for some years to come
may be necessary; but a young man of fourteen or
fifteen, may be taught to do this in one year, with
out committing a single grammar rule to memory,
or without spoiling his hand bg writing a single ver
“Much more in my opinion, might be said in fa
vor of teaching our young men to speak the Indian
languages of our country, than to speak or write La
tin. By their means, they might qualify them
selves to become ambassadors to our Indian nations,
or introduce among them a knowledge of the bles
sings of civilization and religion. We have lately
seen a large portion of power wrested from the
hands of kings and priests, and exercised by its
lawful Owners. Is it not high time to wrest the
power of education over our youth, out of the hands
of ignorant or prejudiced schoolmasters, and place
it in the hands of men of more knowledge and ex
perience in the affairs of the world ? We talk much
of our being an enlightened people; but I know not
with what reason, while we tolerate a system of ed
ucation in our schools, which is as disgraceful to the
human understanding as the most corrupt tenets or
practices of the Pagan religion, or of the Turkish go
So much for the present on the subject of educa
tion. I shall, in another letter, notice a class of wri
ters, who always try to and sometimes speak,
as much like the common negro as the negro speaks
like himself. Many of these too, be it said, are
Georgia Citizens , and who, by the way, claim to
know something of the books. I say, we have Gear
gia Citizens who wish it distinctly understood that
they have been to a college and know 7 a few things;
yet we find these very men often engaged in writing
j for the public, spelling their words like they were
; some ignorant African—thus: dis, dat, toder, de,
futur, nebber, *fcc. I shall, also, when leisure will
permit, hand you a few hints on some of the modes
now practiced in the cultivation of the young mind
in different counties, and the effects of the plans
adopted; so far as I may be acquainted and have op
portunity. Yours, respectfully,