to every Friday morning, in Macon, Ga. on tbe follow,
I f p a |d itrietly in mieanct * * $2 50 per annum
If uni so paid - * - • 300 “ “
teal Advertisement* will be made to conform to the following pro
tons of the Statute
safer of l.aiid and Negroes, by Executors, Administrators and Guard
ie. are required by law to be advertised in a public gazette, sixty
gars previous to the day of sale.
These sales must be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between
th* hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the
Gourt House in the county in which the property is situated.
The sales of Personal Property must be advertised in like manner for
Tolies to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty
•iotics that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary fox
Isarc to sell I-and and .Negroes, must be published weekly tor four
Citations or Letters of Administration must be published thirty days
f #r Dismission from Administration, monthly. sis months —for Ilia
Mission from Guardianship, fnrty days.
Knits tot foreclosure •! mortgage, must be published monthly, for
frar months—(or establishing lost papers for the full space of three
months for compelling titlesfrom Executors or Administrators w here
s bssd bn been given by tbe deceased, the fall space of three months.
Professional and Business Car as, inserted, according to the follow
for 4 lines or less per annum - * “•’* •< in advance.
“ 6 lines “ * 7 00 “
„ u M * - - $lO 00 - “
Transient Advertisements will be charged sl, per square of 12
hsr* or leas, for the first and 50 cts. for each subsequent insertion.—
Us thase rates there will be a deduction of 20 percent, on settlement,
wbsn advertisements are continued 3 months, without alteration.
|-jr All Letter* except those containing remittances must be post
paid or free.
Postmasters and others who will act as Agents for the “Citizen”
way retain 20 percent, for their trouble, on all cash subscriptions for
OFFICE on Mulberry Street, Hast of the Floyd House and near the
(T Ijr jjcVt’s Cnrnrr,
The Thriving Family.
T MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOb'KNKY.
I >iir father lives in Washington,
A in] has a world of cares,
lint gives his children each a farm
Enough for them and theirs.
Full thirty well grown sons has he.
A numerous race indeed.
Married and settled all, d’ye see.
With boys and girls to feed,
So, if we wisely till our lands,
We are sure to earn a living,
And have a penny, too, to spare
For spending or for giving,
A thriving family are we,
No lordliug nets] deride ns.
For we know how to u“* our hands,
And in our w its we pride its,
llail, brothers, hail!
Lot naught on earth divide ns.
tyome of us dare the sharp north cost \
Some, clover folds are mowing; .
And others tend the eotton plants
That keeps the looms agoing :
Some huild and steer the white ning’d shijss
And few in speed ean mate them.
Whila others rear the corn and w heat,
Or grind the corn to freight them.
And if our neighbors o’er the sea
Have e’er an empty larder,
To send a loaf their babes to cheer,
We’ll work a little harder. I
No old nobility have we,
No tyrant king to ride us ;
Our sages in the Capitol (
Enact the laws that guide us,
1 fail, brothers, hail l * !
Let naught on earth divide us. j
Some faults we have, we can’t deny,
A foible, here and there;
Hut other households have the same,
And so we won't despair.
T* will do no g*od to fuineand frown,
And call hard names, you see, j
And w hat a hame ’twould be to part
So fine a family ! j
*Tis but a waste of time to fret, i
Since nature made us one.
For every quarrel cuts a thread
That healthful love has spun.
Then draw the cords of union fast, 1
Whatever may betide us.
Hail, brothers, hail!
lit naught on earth divide us.
The School Boy.
BT MIM K. 8. SPROAT.
“ Usten. my son, the school bi ll's ringing ;
’Tis time, my dear, you were on your way. ”
“ Listen, mother, the birds are singing,
< ailing me sweetly, to play, to play !
1 >uty is happiness, father preaches,
Then sure of duty my heart is full;
Do mother, explain what the master teaches—
Now why are school boy duties dull 1”
“ Willie. Willie, the last bell's sounding,
Hridle your galloping tongue, l pray ;”
“ Mother, yonder the waves are bounding,
Murmuring sweetly, away, away 1
I know where the waters are flying,
Calling every wave to me;
Under a rx-k my boat is lying,
Tietfr to the root of a willow tree.
“ Cool in tbe stream the boughs are laving,
Hiding the leaves from the light in play ;
Even here L ean see them waving,
Beckoning sweetly, “away, away !”
Steel-bright fishes are keenly parting
The efvstal dark where the lilies lie—
A plash and shout, away we’re darting.
My darling boat, and the stream,’ and I.
Fort, soft, the waves are creeping
On through the forest cool and gray;
Hurrah! Hurrah! the waves are leaping
Out in the glorious, golden day,
Mother, my heart is wild for pleasure!
No bright angel o’er dull books pores:
Science and knowledge the school walls treasure,
But God and Beauty are out of doors !”
Oh, woman,fair to eril turned,
By God and heavenly angels spurned,
Man’s greatest friend and greatest foe,
His chiefest joy and direst woe,
His burden, prize and precious gem !
His glory, shame and diadem !
fc>o pretty, polished, pleasing, prim!
So gaudy, giddy, grievous, grim ?
So lovely, perfect, faultless, bright!
3o wicked, hateful, worthless, light!
Coy, modest, meek and fond of sway,
Swan, pigeon, dove and bird of prev,
Scold, vixen, termagant and shrew,
Thorn, thistle, nightshade, nettle, rno,
Affected, witless, froward, pert,
Coquette, gossip, prude and flirt!
With eyes so tender, languid, mild,
To fiery, eloquent and wild ;
With voice so soft, and smile so sweet,
And heart where all the graces meet;
W ith taper waist, and graceful air,
W ith wheedling tongue, and shoulders bare!
In sorrow, patient, tender, kind,
But fickle as the changing wind ;
All full of hopes and smiles and tears,
Caprices, whims and petty fears,
Sunshine and cloud, whirlwind and rain,
fond, loving bride, then scourge again !
No virtue like thy virtues are.
No vices ean with thine compare ;
Thou riddle, paradox and jest,
Os Heaven's gifts, last, worst and best.
An Affecting Story.
I wo gentlemen and a female travelling in a coach !
together, the latter in answer to a question that had
| been projiosed to her said :
“I never drank any spirits till about three years |
ago, just after my youngest child was born.’’
i y’be uttered this reply in a suppressed tone of j
| voice, and with evident emotion.
. on have been married, then 1” said the English j
Io- _ j
‘■leskir,’ she replied, “I was married eight j
“is your husband living?” lie inquired.
“1 suppose he is,” said she; I have not seen him ;
for more than two years, and ido not know that he |
will ever come back again.
At this moment the old Dutchman shook his ‘
head; and the woman bowed down her face. Her !
! bonnet concealed her features, but tears were fall- ‘
| * n g upon her cloak. After a brief interval, the En- |
j irishman resumed his conversation,
j “1 am tearful,” said he, “that you have a bad, per- I
haps intemperate husband.”
; His remark seemed to summon her to the rescue;
| for whatever may be the nature of domestic strife,
, foreign interference is seldom welcomed by either
j “No sir,’ she replied, “I had as good a husband
j as ever lived, and he was always a very temperate
man. lie was a member of the Temperance socie
ty. My husband was a carpenter, and worked as
hard as any man, but he never took strong drink of 1
any kind; and if 1 could say the same of myself,
we never should have parted.’’
‘’Jlow did you tirst contract this habit ?” said he. j
“After my last child was born,” she replied, **l j
, had a severe fever, and was brought very low. It j
j seemed as though I never should recover my
j strength. Our Doctor, who was a skillful old gen-
S tleman, said nothing would raise me so soon as a lit
-1 tie brand v. My husband asked if nothing else
would do as well, and was opposed to my taking it.
It was not pleasant at tirst; but I goon began to rel
; ish it with .sugar, and after a month’s trial, I got
I myself into such a state, that I could not live with
out it. My husband was greatly distressed about
| it, and said he would not have it in his house. I
, then got it privately, and the habit got so strong
upon me that 1 used to lie awake very often think
■ ing how good it would taste in the morning. I have
i often said, and say now, that I would give the world
! if it were mine, to be cured of this hankering after
strong drink. At last my poor children ”
“Door Icetle children!” cried the Dutchman, as
he brushed away a tear from his eye.
“My poor children,” continued the woman, “be
j gan to suffer, and my husband became desperate.
| At one time he would coax me, and after 1 bad kept
! myself clear of it for a week or so, he would make me
| a present, though he eould poorly afford it. At an
! other time, when I could hold out no longer; and
he returned and found nothing ready for dinner, or
supper, and the children crying, and his wife unfit
i ted tor every thing, he would talk very harshly and
, threaten to leave me. I deserved it all,” said she
I weeping bitterly ; “and I have thought if he should
I come back, I would try to do better and leave off,
i though lam afraid I should not be able to. 1 nev
jer thought really he would go aw ay. He seemed at
last, to be giving the matter up. lie let me go on
pretty much as I pleased. He used to take the two
elder children, upon a Sunday, to meeting, and leave
me at home, for 1 was ashamed to go there, as folks
j had begun to take notice of me. A few days be
, fore he went off, lie said very little to me, but seem
'edto be busy packing his chest. I thought all this
1 was done to scare me ; so I took no notice of it.
lie tinally put his chest upon a wheelbarrow, and
i wheeled it away. “Good bye John,” said 1, tliink
| ing he was not in earnest, and I was sure he was
j not when I saw him coming back in about an hour
: without it. 1 told him lie had made a short voyage
jof it. lie said nothing — not a word — but lie took
; the children on his lap and kissed them and cried
over them as if his heart would break. His silence
| and his taking on so, worried me more than all his
(threats. Next morning bo asked me to take the
children and go with him to see his mother, who liv
,ed about a mile off. So I got ready. We had an
] old dog that watched around the house, my husband
; patted the dog—“ Good bye, Caesar,” said he, and
j sobbed alond as he said it. I then began to fear he
j was going ; and as I thought how kindly he always
used me, and what a miserable wife I had been to
j him, I eould not help shedding tears. But I said
j nothing, for I still thought he only wanted to try
I me. When we got to his mother’s I saw his chest
! outside of the gate. “We went in, and the old wo
man began to shed tears, but said not a word. I
thought he meant to leave me, he looked at the
clock, and said it was about time for the stage to
come, and turning to me, he took my hand, but it
was some time before he could speak —At last, nias
ering his feelings, “Fanny J” said he, “there is but
one way to convince you that lam in earnest, and
that is to leave you. I took you for better or for
worse, but I did not take yon for a drunkard, and I
cannot live with you as such. —You have often said
you were willing to part, and could support yourself
if I would the children, and you have agreed that
they should live with their grandmother. I have
sold rov tools and some other matters, and have
raised a few dollars, which I have placed in her
care for their use ; and if God spares my life they
shall never want. When she writes me word that
vou have kept clear from this habit for six months, I
will gladly come back, but never till then. “W hile
he was speaking the stage arrived, and I saw him
in all lljings —Neutral in Notl)ia<j.”
MACON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, SEPT. 6, 1850.
lashing on his chest. I then had no longer a doubt.
, He kissed the children and bis mother, and rushed
out of the house. I followed him to the door. **o,
1 dear John,” said I, “do not go. John—try me once
■ more,’ but he never looked back ; and the stage was
j soon out of sight. “He is a cruel, cold hearted
man,” said I, as I sat down on the threshhold of the
; door. “lanny,” said his mother as she sat wiping
1 her eyes’ “will you abide by these words at the
great judgment day?” “No,” said I, after a short
i pause, “he is the kindest and best of husbands and
j fathers.’ “Then try to kill the sinful habit, and win
! back your happy fire side.” “I will try,” said I.
And I have tried, but how poorly liave I succeeded,
every person acquainted with me knows too well.”
W hen the poor creature had finished her narra
tive, which bore irresistable marks of truth in the
very manner of its delivery, the Englishman gave
her the most admirable counsel. The old Dutch
man turned round and gazed upon her, while the
: tears trickled down his weather-beaten features,
i “Mine Got,” taking off his hat with an air of
deepest reference, while he spake. “Ven vil ther
lioanendot dish? Oh! it is by leaving the trade.
| Nen vil a body leave off selling the fires of hell to
i hi s neighbor in exchange for do poor leetlo chil
i and ren’s pread ? ’’
A Splendid Description.
One Paul Denton, a Methodist preacher in Texas, adver
tised a barbacue, with better liquor than usually furnished.
M hen the people wore assembled, a desperado in the crowd
cried out ‘Mr. Paul Denton, your Riverence lias lied.
\ou promised us not only a good barbacue, but better li
quor. \V here is the liquor ?’
* there!’ answered the missionary in tones of thunder,
and pointing his motionless linger at the matchless Double
gashing up in two strong columns, with a sound like
a , shout of joy from the bosom of the earth. ‘There!’ he
repeated, with a look terrible as the lightning, while his ene
my actually trembled on his feet; ‘there is the liquor, which
God, the Eternal, brews for all his children !’
‘Notin the simmering Still over smoky fires, choked with
poisonous gases, and surrounded with the stench of sickening
odors and rank corruptions, doth your Father in Heaven pre
pare the precious essence of life, the pure cold water. But
in the green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wan
ders, and the child loves to play, there God brews it; and
down, low in the deepest valleys where the fountains mur
mur and the rills sing; and high on the tall mountain tops
where the native granite glitters like gold in the sun, where
the storm cloud broods and the thunder-storms crash ; and
away far out on the wide, wild sea, where the hurricane
howls music, and the big wave* roar the chorus, sweeping
the march of God—there he brews it—that beverage of life
And everywhere it is the thing of beauty; gleaming in
the dew-drop; singing in the summer rain; shining in the
ice-gem, till the trees all seem turned toliving jewels—spread
a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around
the mid-night moon ; s|>rting in the cataract; sltH-piug in
the glacier: dancing in the hail shower; folding its bright
snow curtains softly about the wintry world ; and weaving
the many colored iris, that seraph's zone of the sky, whose
warp is the sunbeam of Heaven, all checked over with ccLo
tial flowers, by the mystic hand of refraction. Still always it
is beautiful—that blessed life-water ; no poison bubbles on it*
brink; its foam brings no madness and murder; no blood
stains in its liquid glass : pale widows and starving orphans
weep not burning tears in its depths; no drunkard's shriek
ing ghost from the grave curses it in the words of eternal des
pair ! Speak out tny friends, would you exchange it for the
demon's drink, alcohol V
A shout, like the r<ar of a tempest, answered—No!
Getting into the wrong House.
BV FRANK noA NE.
“For me I adore
Some twenty or more.
And love them most dearly.”
Such was the light air hummed by a young man
one evening in the month of September, between the
hours of seven and eight, as he turned into a court
leading out of Washington street, where was his
The character of the air suited well with the ap
pearance of the young blade, for as he turned into
the court, the light of the lamp “illuminated” him ;
he was tall, and somewhat slender, but finely form
ed, his pale and handsome features, large bright, eyes,
with dark circles around them, told of late hours and
llis exterior frock coat, buttoned at the top by a
single button, pants of a snuff acolored hue, white vest
and chain fastened at its lower bole, attached to the
deuce knows what in his vest pocket, (we do not
mean to say that is the name of a watch but fre
quently young gents of that out, are not able to
sport that useful article, but content themselves with
sometimes attaching a pencil, a counterfeit dollar,
and an instance is known of a ten-penny nail being
put to that use,) boots, hat, and dicky of the latest
fashion, and switch cane, surmounted by a delicate
ly-carved lady’s leg in ivory, completed the rakish
tout ensemble of our hero.
As we said before, he, he was humming a tune as
he went into the court. Passing up, he ceased ; and
his thoughts, if they had been uttered, Would have
been something like this ;
‘Some forty or fifty years more, I should have
said. Byron was a hard one ; one of the b’hoys de
cidedly ; hang, if he wosn’t the very personification
of his Don Juan—he went on the principle ‘go it
while you’re young,’ and he did it with a vengeance.’
During these cogitations, he reached, as he suppo
sed, his boarding house. Ascending the stairs he
sent his hand on an exploring expedition in his pock
ets, and extricated an instrument resembling a por
table poker, with a jointed handle. Inserting this
instrument into a round hole in the door, he effect
ed an entrance.
On entering he was somewhat surprised at the
disappearance of the hat tree, and a table in its
‘M here the deuce is the hat tree gone to now —
I should like to know V he mentally exclaimed,
throwing down his hat, ‘How awful quiet it is just
now ?’ he continued, proceeding towards the sitting
Finding it in total darkness, he was still more sur
‘Juno! is every body dead, I wonder? I’ll have some
light-on the subject,’ and with that determination he
crossed the room to a mantlepieee, to search for a
match. He placed his hand on something that made
him utter an exclamation of surprise.
‘By every thing that’s blue, a lady’s shoe; extra
ordinary events must hare transpired during my ab
sence—a sofa here,’ striking against one placed un
der the mantel piece. ‘They have been pitching the
personal estate around at a terrible rate. Ah! a
baby’s shoe! Oh, mein Got! as the Dutchman said.’
‘Charles, is that you ?’ whispered a s<>fi voice at’
the moment, and a warm hand clasped his own.
‘Whew I what the deuce is to pav now ?’ he al
most ejacuated in surprise ; but recovering himself,
he answered, in a whisper, ’yes, deare -t, it is me —
over the left,’ he said to himself.
‘I see how it is, I’m in the wrong box, and this
damsel thinks I’m Charles, no matter, I’m in for it
now, and might as well put it through.
So thinking, he seated himself by her side on the
sofa, with one hand clasped in hers, and the other
around her waist.
‘Charles,’ she said, ‘what made you so late ? I
have been waiting for you this half hour.’
‘The deuce yeu have,’ thought he.
’lndeed, I am very sorry, but positively I could
not come sooner’ he said.
’1 he folks have all gone away this evening ; and
we’ll make the best of our time,’ said she, squeezing
‘Yes, by Jove, wo will, was the reply,’ as he em
braced her and imprinted several kisses on her lips.
‘I wonder who I am kissing in the dark,’ thought
he during the operation.
‘\\ hy, Charles, I should think you’d bo ashamed
of yourself, you never did so before.’
‘Charles must be a very bashful youth,’ thought
•Charley, you musn’tdoso !’ she exclaimed, ‘what
do you mean.’
‘l’m making tho best of my time,’ was his inno
*\ou remember the last time I saw you, you said
you would tell me to-night when we should be mar
ried,’ said she.
A whistle nearly escaped the lips of Gus, (such
was the abbreviated sponsorial of our hero.) ‘I
should say immediately,’ he thought, ‘but she might
mistrust, and ’twould be no go.’
‘The time, dearest,’ he replied, ‘will be when it
will be the most convenient for you.’
‘< >h, how glad I am,’ she exclaimed.
‘What a pickle I should be in, if tbe folks
should pop in all of a sudden,’ lie thought at that
moment, us if he had a presentiment. As the
thought passed his mind, a latch key w as heard fum
bling at the door.
At this ominous sound, she sprang to her feet,
‘Oh, dear!’ was her exclamation, ‘what shall I do?
here conies the folks.’
What shall I do V was the question of Gus, as he
sprang to his feet.
‘Oh dear? Oh dear V she bitterly exclaimed,
‘where shall I hide you ? There’s no closet, and
you can't get out of the room before the folks w ill
see you. Oh mercy! I shall lose my place.—
There, she door is opening—quick—quick—hide un
der the sofa, it is a, high one.’
lie didn’t stop to think of a better place, but pop
ped underneath. 11 is progress was greatly acceler
ated by her feet, which she applied quite heavily to
‘Thunder I what a plantation she’s got,’said Gus
as it came in contact with his ribs.
He found the space under the sofa quite narrow,
so much so that lie was obliged to lay fiat ou his
‘Whew ! they keep a cat in the house. Hist !
there they come—one —two—three daughters, the
old man and woman and two gents, friends of the
ladies, I suppose. Here they are down on the sofa.
How I would like to grasp one of those delicate lit
tle feet! Gads ! she would think the devil had her.
I wonder how long I’ve got to say here. I hope
the conversation will be edifying.’
In this manner his thoughts run for the space of
an hour. By that time he found his situation any
thing but pleasant, not being able to move an inch.
There were no signs of their departure, judging from
their conversation, which was lively at first, and not
knowing how long he should have to stay in such
odious quarters, caused him to anathemize them
most severely, and he got wore to such a pitch that
he let an oath accidentally slip thro’ liis lips.
‘Hark ! what’s that ?’ exclaimed one, but the oth
ers heard nothing.
‘Jesu Mariah!’ thought Gus, ‘what a narrow es
cape. If any of the others had heard it, I should
have been discovered; then a pretty plight I would
be in. I should have been taken fora burglar.’
While thus congratulating himself on his escape,
a shaw l belonging to one of the ladies, hanging over
the back of the sofa, slipped behind. It was soon
missed aud a search commenced.
‘lt must have fallen behind tho sofa,’ surmised the
‘l’ll ascertain,’ said one of the young men, rising
from the sofa.
Seizing one end of the sofa he whirled it nearly
into the middle of the room.
Gods ! what a scream. The young ladies nearly
fainted aw ay at the sight of Gus lying on his face.
‘Burglar ! thief!’ replied the head of the house
retreating towards the door.
‘Complimentary,’ said Gus, looking up.
The two young men seized and raised him to his
‘Give an account of yourself; how came you here
w'ere the questions put to him.
‘Thieves ! robbers ! watch !’ screamed the ladies.
‘Stop your noise,’ shouted the old gentleman, as
Gus commeuced an apology.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Gus, ‘you have found
me concealed under the sofa, in a burglarious man
ner, but ’pon my soul, ’twas for a different purpose.’
He then gave a lucid explanation, and in such a
manner that it set the old gentleman in a roar of
The girl was then called to lie questioned about
‘I shall see now, at any rate, who I have been sky
larking with,’ thought Gus, as her step was heard
on the stairs.
A moment more and a daughter of Ham, black as
the ace of spades, strode into the room.
Such an apparition of darkness struck our hero
dumb. For a moment he was a model of amaze
ment ; but a roar of laughter from all in the room
restored his scattering senses, and he became fully
aware of his ridiculous position.
‘Where’s my hat ?’ he faintly ejaculated, as he
rushed from the room.
Until sleep closed hi 9 eyes, did the roar of laugh
ter ring in his ears, and when sound asleep, a vision
of a ‘negress” flitted before him.
The Utility ts the Melt.
“ Some ten years sines,” sars Mr. G. Wilkins,
“ when I came to my living, ana commenced cultiva
ting the little land I hold, it was, I may say, fall of
wireworms. Nothing could have been worse, tor
my crops were In some places ruined hy them entire
ly. What, then, did I do! I adopted a plan,
which I saw recommended and published in period
eals many years since, viz: encouraging moles and
partridges on my lands. Instead of permitting a
mole to be caught, I bought all I could; and turn
ed them down alive; and soon my fields, one after a
nother, were full of molehills, to the amusement of
all my neighbors, who at first set me down as a lu
natic ; but now several adopt ray plan, and are stren
uous advocates of it. My fields became exactly like
a honeycomb, and this continued even among my
standing and growing and ripening crops ; not a
mole was molested, but still I bought more. This
summer, I had fourteen bought, but they were not
wanted; I have nothing for them to eat; all that
moles live upon is destroyed, and so, poor things,
j they must starve, or emigrate to some distant land,
I and thus get bowstringed by savage men whom iliey
! “bn to serve. Adopt my plan, and hvi ill be sure to
answer. If you have a nest of paitiidges, also en
courage them; all the summer they live upon in
sects, wireworras, &<*., and consider how many mil
lions n covey will destroy in a single summer! A
gain, always remember that moles feed upon insects,
and of which the wireworm is the chief; if you
doubt open a mole and peep into his stomach.
Again, do not fear that moles injure your crops, ei
ther in a field or in a garden ; it is a low vulgar er- \
ror to suppose that they root up young corn; they
never go any where till the wireworms have first de
stroyed the plants, and then, innocent things, they
! are punished for others’ faults. If you do not like
to see the hills, knock them about with a hoe, as I
did ; it is a healthy amusement, and they will do
your lauds good. Do not despise any plan because
the farmers will not adopt in your neighborhood;
farmers will adopt nothing till driven to it, and noth
ing that is new and good.”
Its climate — Its Therapeutic effects on Inval
ids LABORING UNDER ITiTHISIS PuLMONALIS,
Bronchitis—Productions, ike, die.
Mr. Editor :— Knowing the wide extended cir
culation of your able print, 1 have been induced to
send you this brief communication, thinking that it
would not tail to come to tli£ notice of some who
might be benetitted by a residence in our healthy
clime. Although entertaining a high respect for
the opinion of the late Doctor Parish, I for one can
not subscribe to his advice to the victims of Phthi
sis Pulmonalis, viz, “to rough it.” No! No! No!
We would have him exchange the rude blasts of Jio
reas and the piercing cold of the icy North for tho
balmy breezes of the sunny South. Why this o
pinion ? In those who dwell in elevated, cold dis
tricts, the functions of the lungs and kidneys are
very prominent, and those of the skin and liver con
siderably less so; the eliminating or depurating ac
tions on the blood being performed chiefly by* tho
former organs. Keeping then in view the. influence
of a yvarm climate ou the system, viz, in exciting the
Inactions of the liver and skiu, and diminishing
those of the lungs, wo are induced to recommend a
winter residence in the South to those laboring un
der certain forms of disease. In hcemoptisis partic
ularly, is this change strikingly beneficial, as a warm
and dry atmosphere lessens the activity of the pul
monic circulation and the disposition to sanguine
ous exudations from the surfaces of the bronchi.
Bronchitis and tubercular phthisis are greatly ben
efitted by this state of the atmosphere, and I have
no doubt that phthisis in its incipient stages, can be
readily cured by proper attention to the suitable
remedies, and a residence here.
Chronic rheumatism, dropsies, especially Ilvdro
thorax and Anasarca, Gout, in its early stages, Dvs
menorhoea and Scrofula are benetitted by removal
to a warm climate. And there are other reasons
why I would recommend a winter residence in the
South to the consumptives—tis this, the almost u
niversal use of coal fires at the North, in conse
quence of the quantity of sulphur this mineral con
tains, and of sulphuric acid fumes and fuliginous
matter generated, renders the air more exciting to
the lungs, and endangers all who are laboring un
der or are subject to pulmonary diseases, it has
been a difficult matter to find a winter residence in
this country fit for those laboring under pulmonary
complaints. But it is only necessary that the ad
vantage to be derived from a winter residence in
Florida should lie known for this difficulty to vanish
into thin air. Cuba has been the favorite resort, of
consumptive invalids, hut tho atmosphere is en
tirely too moist, except in some localities, and then
the heat is so oppressive as to exhaust the energies
of the invalid and prevent them from taking the
proper exercise in the open air. St. Augustine,
formerly a great resort, but now less frequented be
cause of its exposed situation, is not a suitable and
proper residence for persons laboring under phthisis
pulmonalis, more especially in the advanced stages.
Invalids who spend the winter months in St. Au
gustine, are often prevented from going into the o
pen air by the chilly north east wind surcharged
with fogs and saline vapours. Those winds exercise
a very deleterious effect on invalids laboring under
an irritable state of the bronchial membrane. The
pleasantly situated town of Quincy some 30 miles
removed from the Gulf of Mexico and 20 miles dis
tant from Tallahassee the capital of tho State, is
free from the above-mentioned objections and pre
sents very many inducements as the winter residence
of invalids. The society of Quincy is highly intel
ligent and refined; indeed, tho county of Gadsden
lms always been famed for the morality, hospitality
and urbanity of her citizens. Hero the invalid can
enjoy cheerful and agreeable society. Is ho devout 1
he can frequent the church of his choice. Is ho
partial to the Sylvan sports ? he can enjoy them. Is
lie a disciple of Isaac W'alton ? he can gratify his
inclination here ; and then the invalid desideratum,
the requisite exercise in the open air, he can always
W r e have commodious hotels and obliging land
lords. The proprietor of the Carolina House in this
place, is now making every arrangement to secure
the comfort and to promote the pleasure of his
guests. lie is carpeting his rooms and fitting up
his establishment in a way, that will give every satis
faction and accommodation to invalids. Qaincy is
moreover, very easy of aeeess. Steamers ply week
ly between New York and Savannah via Charleston,
!?. C., then a fine Rairoad from Savannah to Macon,
and a tri-weekly line of eommodioms four hone
stage coaches connects the latter plaee with this.
J. D. VERDIER, M. D.
I cheerfully comply with the request made of me.
to giro my opinion as to the fitness of Quincy In the
State of Florida as a winter residence for invalids.
I do not think any difference of opinion can be en
tertained as to its adaptation to patients laboring
under pnlmonarv complaints. The climate, tempe- f
-- - ■ ■■■- - - -
raturo of tho atmosphoro, and other circumstances
which I need not mention, give it claims to the no
tice of consumptive patients which aro admitted by
all who arc acquainted with it. And there are oth
er diseases which aro greatly benefited by a winter
residence here, and among them I would particular
ly notioe disease* of the liver, dropsy in its various
forms, and in short, every disease which requires a
temperature warm and dry, where extremes do not
vary more than a few degrees. So mild aro our win
ter* that fires are seldom necessary. lam acquaint
ed with Jacksonville in this state, and do not hesi
tate to express my decided conviction of the superi
ority of Quincy as a winter residence. Indeed “this
fact :s admitted by all those who have tried both
place.-?. I hare observed that those invalids who for
a time resided in Quincy are very certain to return
acknowledging that they received-more benefit in
staying at Quincy than any other place at the South.
And 1 am abundantly satisfied, that if all the advan
tages held forth by Quincy to strangers apd invalids
were heralded iu the public prints, that there would
be a great iufiux of invalids, especially in the fall,
spring, and w inter months. Our climate is dry, sal
ubrious and temperate—our soil free from limestone
strata—-our water Lard, pure, and sweet
Iho society of this place is decidedly intelligent
and refined, and hospitable to strangers. Tho stand
ard of morals in Quincy is as elevated as any place
in the South. In Quincy are Presbyterian, Metho
dist, Baptist, and Episcopal churches. Tho north
ern mail passes through tri-weekly, and the w estern
as many times. AN e have two tine seminaries of
learning in thy noon tide of their prosperity. In
deed, I do not know a place I would prefer to Quin
cy as a winter residence for invalids of the description
above mentioned. As it is believed we will have
invalids among us tho’ensuing season, the pro-
of tho Carolina House in this place, is now
fitting up his establishment in line stylo, carpeting
his rooms, and preparing the hotel in every way that
shall reuder comfort and plcasuro to invalids and
strangers. I have spoken cf disease in its advanced
stage* alone, but inasmuch as it is far better to
prevent than to cure disease, I would advise all who
have a predisposition to pulmonary complaints to
seek a southern clime, and of comae Quincy as the
most eligible spot. lam firmly convinced that tu
bercle may be kept in a dormant stato and conse
quently a full devclopement of tubercular phthisis
prevented by a long residence here. This remark is
not restricted to tubercular diseases but applie* gen
erally to all pulmonary complaints. To the man of
leisuro Quincy is by no means destituto of attractive
features, and of tho truth of tho remark, many
strangers who Lave sojourned among us can abun
dantly testify. And I might add that our citiaena
entertaiu many kind recollections of the numerous
visitors who have been among us for the last few
years. Most respectfully, Ac.
Ik JARROT, M. D.
Ponca do Loon discovered Florida in 1512, snd
determined its shape to be that of a peninsula, dip
ping deep into tho ocean, having the Atlantic on tho
east, and the Gulf of Mexico on the west, bounded
north by Georgia, at about 30 degree* north latitude,
it extend* south to cape Sable and embrace* Thomp
son’s island, on which is located tho town of Key
AA e*t. It also embraces other small islands, making
what aro called the Florida Key *. Making those is”
lands the southern terminus of the State, it reaches
near the island of Cuba and the tropic of Capricorn,
and is the most southern stato of the Union, ft.
Augustine, between the 28th and 29th degrees of
north latitude, i* situated at tho mouth of the Me
tanzas river. From its antiquity, as well as its afrim
ulation to a tropical climate, this place was long the
retreat of consumptive invalids ; but unfortunately
the influenoo of its humid atmosphere on those pa
tients, has not fulfilled their bright hopes and fond
expectations. Tho reason is obvious to the well in
formed inind of any medical gentlemen, when it
must be remembered that St Augustine is so situa
ted, as to givo to it an aspect or open view into the
Atlantic ocean. Iho atmosphere which its citizen*
inhale is directly from an ocean of salt water, not
tempered (altered) by any soft Land current, or by
parsing through grove*.
Tho scientific physician would consider himself
guilty of manslaughter, to smd his patients labor
ing under an inflamatory disease of the liver or
spleen, to any of our fashionable watering places,
tlio water of which places, contain a large quantity
of chalybeates (iron). Tho stimulating qualities of
an aquated atmosphere upon our lungs have been
long observed by medical men. AA hen Aaron Burr
inflicted the mortal wound upon Gen. Hamilton,
his surgeon the late Doctor Ilossack had him in
stantly taken upon the water for the purpose of a
Msting to arouse the linking energies of Lis andv r g
Is there any place this side the grave, to which
the angel of sympathy cnn point the sleepless, rest
less invalid as a place to recover and rest ? It would
be happy for suffering humanity, if this question
could be answered in the affirmative. From a cor
rect knowledge of the topography of Florida, after
a residence of about ten years, and the influence
the different localities exercise on the persons afflict
ed with consumption in its many shapes, I have
hesitation emphatically to press the importance of
an inland situation in Florida during the fall, winter,
and spring months, upon tho serious consideration
of invalids. Geological and Matercologicnl observa
tions would point out Quincy as an eligible situa
tion for consumptive, as well as many other j atients.
Very few traces of limestone occur in the vicinity
of Quincy, either in the form of marl or stone.
The earthy formations and deposit* here are princi
pally those of Siiex (sandy quartz). It will bo re
membered such formations produce in every location
in which they are found, free-stone water. Our
lungs being situated externally as to the atmosphere,
it follows that a dry, mild, even tempered atmos
phere, promotes the cure of invalids laboring under
diseases of this kind. In a direct line, Quincy is
discovered a>out 25 or 30 miles above salt water in
the Gulf of Mexico. The sea breeze from tho Gulf
before it reaches tho invalid in Quincy passe®
through dense hammocks and pine regions. In pas
sing through such media, it is evident the atmos
phere parts with much of its maritime humidity,
.ihe surface of the upper part of Middle Florida is
undulating, which with its proximity to the coast,
keeps up an eqr.ilibrinm ot temperature altogether
unknowns: any of the States in the Union. Poor
soils produce five, the best soils fifty bushels Indian
corn per acr*. Ijong cotton from 200 to 1500
pounds per aer*. But the most valuable production
here is the Cigar tobacco. Poo®lands produce from
400 to 450, the best lands about 1000 pounds per
acre. The price here is from twenty to thirty-seven
and a half cents per pound; in New York, from 30
,to 75 cents \ And in Germany, where almost all this
tobacco ie oemiUime<h is worth from 50 cent# to