The Georgia citizen. (Macon, Ga.) 1850-1860, September 20, 1850, Image 1

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The Georgia citizen., September 20, 1850, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextVOL. I. -Mi; asusm difassa f published, every Fridaj’ morning, in Macon, Ga. on the follow. M CONDITIONS: i f paid strictly in adrance - - 5- 50 per annum If not so paid - - * . 300 “ “ Legal Advertisements will be made to conform to the following pro tons of the Statute s*irs of I-and and Negroes, by Executors, Administrators and Guard ri. are required by lavr to he advertised in a public gazette, sixty dav. previous to the day of sale. These sales must be held on the first Tuesday in the month.between be hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the Court House in the county in which the property is situated. ■Die sales of Personal Property must be advertised in like manner for 'y Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must he published forty that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for Hare to sell Land and Negroes, must be published weekly for four or letters of Administration must he published thirty days —IWr Dismission from Administration, tnontltly , sue months lor Dis ®uwion from Guardianship./wety days. Hale, for foreclosure of mortgage, must be published monthly, for four months —‘for establishing lost papers, for ike full sp,irc of three months- for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators where . bond has been given by the deceased, the full space of three months. Professional and Business Carss, inserted, according to the follow '* P^rTlines or less per annum - - $3 SO in advance. Tjo U “ eS a -’ - $lO 00 “ “ rw-Transient Advertisements will be charged sl, per square of 12 hues or less, for the first and 50 cts. for each subsequent insertion.— On these rates there will be a deduction of 20 percent, on settlement, when advertisements are continued 3 months, without alteration, j-y All Letters except those containing remittances must be post ?I pu*tnws < ters and others who will act as Agents for the “Citizen” may retain2o percent, for their trouble,on all cash subscriptions for- OFFICE on Mulberry Street, East of the Floyd House and near the Market. (all me Pet Names. BT THE LATE SIRS. OSGOOD. Call me pet names, dearestcall me a bird, That flies to thy breast at on e’vrishing word ; That folds its wings there, ne’er irea ning of flight, That tenderly sings there in loving delight. Oh ! my sad heart is pining for one fond word, Call me pet names, dearest, call me a bird. (’ell me fond names, dearest', call me a star, Whose sin;’, s, bea nir.g welcome, thou feel'st from afar; “Whore r.;-ht is the > 1 cars st, the truest to thee. ■ . ; . t ti-H- of sorrow” steals over life's**. ;.v reh barque where its warm rays are, s T"t aims, darling, call me thy star. i all i sweet names, darling 1 call me a flower, Th-t in the light of thy smile each hour; That dro >;>s when its heaven —thy love—grows cold, That shrinks from the wicked, the false, and bold. i'h blooms for thee only thro’ sunlight and shower; Call me pet names, darling, call me thy flower. Cs!l me dear names, darling! call me thine own, Speak to mcai.vays in love’s low tone; Let not thy look or thy voice grow cold — Let my fond worship thy Ijring enfold. I/ive ne.’ f.r. ver. und love me alone; Call me pet nr. ties, daling, call me thine own. beot | a..i | j>jwa The Seasons. Is a quaint, thoughtful little poem, written by a German, who died in 1676: — In fair Spring’s fresh budding hours, What adorns our garden bowers? Little flowers. When departing Spring we mourn, What is shed from Summer’s horn ? Hay and corn. What is Autumn's bounteous sign, Mark of Providence divine ? Fruit and wine. When old Winter, hobbling slow, Comes, what do we gain, d’ye know ? Ice and snow. Ilay and corn, and little flowers, Ice, snow, fruit and wine are ours, Given to us every year, By Spring, Summer, Autumn, AY inter, As they each in turn appear. Spring gives treasure, Summer pleasure, Autumn gladdens, Winter saddens, Spring revives, Summer thrives, Autumn pleases, Winter freezes. Therefore, friends, we all have reason, To extol each coming season, Spring and Summer, Autumn, Winter. Honor, counsel, deeds sublime, Are the precious gifts of time. Love. BY KITZ CAEEN IIAI.LECK. AY lien the tree of Love is budding first, Ere yet its leaves are green ; Ere yet by shower and sunbeam uurst, Its intant life has been ; The wild bee’s slightest touch might wring The buds from off the tree, As the gentle dip of the swallow's wing Breaks the bubbles oil the sea. But when its open leaves have found A home in the free air, Pluck them, and there remains a wound That ever wrinkles there. The blight of hope and happiness Is felt when fond ones part, And the bitter tear that follows, is The life blood of the heart. When the flame of love is kindled first, ’Tis the fire-fly’s light at even, ’Tis dim as the wandering stars that burst, In the blue of the summer heaven. A breath can bid it burn no more, Or if at times its beams Come on the memory, they pass o’er Like shadows in our dreams. But when that flame has blazed into A being and a power, And smiled in scorn upon the dew That fell in its first warm hour ’Tis the flame tliat curls round the martyrs Whose task is to destroy ; ’Tis the lamp on the altars of the dead, Whose light is not of joy ! Then crush, even hi their hour of birth, The infant buds of Love, And tread his growing fire to earth, Ere ‘tis dark in clouds above ; Cherish no more a cypress tree To shade thy future years:, Nor nurse a heart flame that may bo Quenched only with thy tear#. The Beauty of women enticeth men to sin Against the statute. A man may as well expect to Be at ease with* (> A wealth, as happy without virtue. sfeellnm|. From Arthur ’# Home Gazette. Don’t give up. BV THE EDITOR. . “ I can’t do it, father. Indeed I can’t. ” “ Never say can’t, my son. It isn’t a good word. ” “But I can’t, father. And if I can’t I can’t. ” I’ve tried, and tried, and the answer won’t come out right. ” , “Suppose you try again, Edward,” said Mr. Wil liams, the father of the discouraged boy. “ There’s no use in it, ” replied the lad. “ What if you go to school to-morrow without the correct answer to this sum ? ” “ I’ll be put down in my class, ” returned Ed ward. Mr. Williams shook his head, and his countenance assumed a grave aspect. There was a silence of a few moments, and then the father said : “Let me relate to you a true story, my son. Thir ty years ago, two lads about your age, were school companions. Both got on very well for a time; but, as their studies grew more diffiult, both suffer ed discouragement, and each said often to his fath er, as you have just said to me —‘I can’t.’ One of these boys, whose name was Charles, bad a brighter mind than the other, and could get through his tasks easier; but his father was very indulgent to him, and when he complained that his lessons were too hard, and said, ‘I can’t do this, and I can't do that,’ he requested the teacher not to be so hard with him. “But it was different with the father of the oth er boy, named Henry. To every complaint, he an swered—‘Don’t give up, my boy ! Try again; and if not successful, try again and again. You can do it —I know you can.’ “Thus encouraged, this lad persevered, and in ev ery case, overcame the diffiultiesin his way. Soon, although his mind was not naturally so active as the mind of his companion, he was in advance of him. When they left the school, which was about the same time, he was by far the best scholar. Why was this ? lie did not give up because his task was hard; for he had learned this important lesson — that we can do almost anything, if we try. “ Well, these two boys grew up towards manhood, and it became necessary for them to enter upon some business. Charles was placed by his father in the office of a physician ; but he did not stay there long, lie found it difficult in the beginning, to remember the names and uses of the various organs of the bo dy, and soon became so much discouraged, that his father thought it best to alter his intention regard ing him, and to put him into a merchant’s counting room, instead of continuing him as a student of med icine. Here Charles remained until he became of age. Some few years afterwards, he went into bus iness for himself, and got on pretty well for a time y but every young man who enters the world, depend ent upon his own efforts, meets with difficulties that only courage, confidence and perseverance can over come. lie must never think of giving up. Un fortunately for Charles, these virtues did not make a part of his character. AY hen trouble and difficul ties came, his mind sunk under a feeling of discour agement ; and he ‘gave up’ at a time when all that was needed for final success, was a spirit of indomi table perseverance, that removes all obstacles, lie sunk, unhappily, to rise no more. In giving up the struggle, lie let go his hope in the future—and ere he had reached the prime of life, found himself shat tered in fortune, and without the energy of charac ter necessary to repair it. “In the same office where Charles was placed, Henry was.entered as a student of medicine. At first, when he looked into the book of anatomy, and read the names of bones, muscles, nerves, arteries, Ac., it seemed to him that he never could learn these names, much less their various uses in the human body. For a short time he gave way to a feeling of discouragement; but then a thought of the many hard tasks he had learned, by application, came over his mind, and with the words, ‘Don’t give up,’ on his tongue, he would apply himself with renewed efforts. Little by little he acquired the knowledge he was seeking. Daily he learned something, and it was not long before he could look back and mark the steps of his progress. This encouraged him great ly. Soon new and greater difficulties presented themselves; but, encouraged by past triumphs, he encountered them in a confident spirit, and came off conqueror. “ Thus Henry went on, while Charles gave up quickly. In the end, the former graduated with honor, and then entered upon the practice of the pro fession he had chosen. There was much to discour age him at first. People do not readily put confi dence in a young physician ; and he had to wait three or four years before lie received practice enough to support himself even with the closest economy. During this long period, in which the motto —‘Don’t give up’ sustained him, he got in debt for articles necessary for health and comfort, about three hundred dollars. This troubled, but did not dishearten him. ‘I can and will succeed,’ lie often said to himself. ‘Others have met and over come greater difficulties than mine; why then, should I give up ?’ “ A little while longer he persevered, and had the pleasure to find himself free from debt. From that time a prosperous way was before him ; though he had often to fall back upon the old motto —‘Llon’t give up.’ Many years have passed, and Henry is now Professor of Anatomy in University.” “ AVhy, father ! That is you ?” exclaimed the lis tening boy, the interest on his face brightening into pleasure. “Yes, my son,” replied Mr. AYilliams ; “I have been giving you my own history.” “ But what become of Charles f” enquired Ed ward. “ You know the Janitor in our college ?’’ said Mr. Williams. “ Yes, sir.” “ He it is who, when a boy, was mv school mate. But he gave up at every difficulty—see where he is now. He had a good miud, but lacked industry, perseverance, and a will to succeed. Aou can do al most any thing, my boy, it you only try in good earnest. But, if you give up when things are a lit tle hard, you must never expect to rise in the world —to be useful according to your ability, either to yourself or mankind. Now try the hard problem again ; I am sure you will get the right answer. “I will try,” said Edward, confidently, “and 1 know it will come out right next time.” And so it did. One more earnest trial, and his work was done. Far happier was he, after this suc cessful effort, than he could have been, if, yielding to a feeling of discouragement, be had left his task unaccomplished. And so all will find it. Difficul ties arc permitted to stand in our way that we may “Jnfccptnhcnt in ail tilings—Neutral in Notl)ing/’ MACON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, SEPT. 20, 1850. overcome them ; and only in overcoming can we ex pect success and happiness. The mind, like the bo dy, gains strength and maturity by vigorous exer cise. It must feel and brave, like the oak, the rush ing storm, as well as bask, amid gentle breezes, in the warm sunshine. The Pin and the Needle. Lem Smith, the cut” and philosophical editor of the “Madison Record” tells the following witty fa ble, which is as good as anything we have seen out of yEsop. A pin and a needle, says this American Fountain©, being neighbors in a work-basket, and both being idle, began to quarrel, as idle folks are apt to do : “I should like to know,” said the pin, “what you are good for, and how you expect to get through the world without a head ? ” “AVhat is the use of your head,” replied the needle, rather sharply, “if you have no eye f” “AVhat is the use of an eye,” said the pin, “if there is always something in it ?” “I am more active, and can go through more work than you can,” said tlie needle. “Yes, but you will not live long.”—“Why not?” “Because you have alwas a stich in your side,” said the pin. “You are a poor, crooked creature,’’ said the needle. “And you are so proud that you can’t bend without break ing your back.” “I’ll pull your head off if you in sult me again.” “I’ll put your eye out if you touch me ; remember your life hangs by a single thread,” said the pin. AVhile they were thus conversing, a little girl entered, and undertaking to sew, she very soon broke off the needle at the eve. Then she tied the thread around the neck of the pin, and attempt ing to sew with it, she soon pulled its head off - , and threw it into the dirt ly the side of the broken needle. “Well, here we are,” said the needle.— “AA"e have nothing to fight about now,” said the pin. “It seems misfortune has brought us to our senses.” “A pity we had not come to them sooner,” said the needle. “How much we resemble human beings, who quarrel about their blessings till they lose them, and never find out they are brothers till they lay down in the dust together, as we do.” Criticism. —An editor in Illinois speaks of one of his contributors in the following complimentary terms: ♦ “An interesting female correspondent sends us a very uninteresting piece of poetry, and timidly lisps a request for its publication. The moon is called bright—the stars are flattered with the original ap pellation of “meek-ey ‘d,’’- —the trees come in for a full share of eulogy, and the Falling Spring is pro nounced silver plated, or something to that effect. Besides this, the poem is equally instructive on other important subjects.—ls Mary will send us an affida vit that she has washed her dishes, mended hbr hose, and swept the house the week aft r she “ijs “blasted with poetic fire,” we xxiil give in, ands tie the literary world from its lethargy. For the present we say, darn your stockings, and darn your poetry too.” A Horrible Picture. —No words printed in a newspaper, or elsewhere, will give any man who has notseen it, a conception of the fallen condition of the west and the south of Ireland. The famine and the landlords have actually created a new race in Ire land. I have seen on the streets of Galway, crowds of people more debased than the Yahoos of Swift —creatures having only a distant and hideous resemblance to human beings.—Grey-haired old men, whose idiot faces’had hardened into a settled leer of mendicancy, simious and semi-human ; and women filthier and more frightful than the harpies, who, at the jingle of a coin on the pavement, wann ed in myriads from unseen places, struggling, screaming, shrieking for their prey, like some mon strous and unclean animals. In AVestport, the sight of a priest on the street gathered an entire pauper population, thick as a village market, swarming round him for relief. Beggar children, beggar a dults, beggars in white hair, girls with faces grey and shriveled, the grave stamp upon them in a de cree which could not be recalled; women with the more touching and tragical aspect of lingering shame and self-respect not yet effaced ; and among these terrible realities, imposture shaking in pre tended fits, to add the last touch of horrible gro tesqneness to the picture ! I have seen these ac cursed sights, and they are burned into memory for- I ever. Away from the towns, other scenes of un imaginable horrors disclose themselves. The trav eller meets groups, and even troops, of wild, idle, lunatic-looking paupers wandering over the country, each with some tale of extermination to tell. If lie penetrates into a cabin and can distinguish objects among filth and darkness, of which an ordinary pig sty affords but a faint image, he will probably dis cover from a dozen to twenty inmates in the hut —- the ejected cottiers —clustering together and breed ing in pestilence. AVhat kind of creatures men and women become living in this dung-heap, what kind of children arc reared here to grow up into new generation, I have no words to paint. — Dublin Na tion. Father's first interview with his child. The poet Campbell, soon after the birth of his first child, wrote as follows to a near friend. The passage teems with all the tender fervor of a father’s heart. Our first interview was when ho lay in his little crib in the midst of white muslin and dainty laces, prepared by Matilda’s hands long before the stran ger’s arrival. I believe a lovelier babe was never smiled upon by the light of heaven, lie was breath ing sweetly his first sleep ; I durst not awaken him, but ventured one kiss. lie gave a faint murmur, and opened bis little azure light. Since that time he has continued to grow in grace and stature. I can take him in my arms, but still his good nature and his beauty are but provocations to the affection one must not indulge; he cannot bear to be hug ged ; he cannot stand a worrying. O! that I were sure that he would live to the days when I could take him on my knee, and feel the strong plump ness of childhood waxing into vigorous youth. My poor boy ! shall I have the ecstacy of teaching him thoughts, and knowledge, and reciprocity of love to me? It is bold to venture into futurity so far ! At present his lovely little face is a comfort to me ; his lips breathe that fragrance which it is one of the loveliest kindnesses of nature that she has given to infants; a sweetness of smell more delight ful than all the treasures of Arabia. AVhat adora ble beauties of God and Nature’s bounty we live in without knowledge! How few have ever seemed to think an infant beautiful! But to me there seems to be a beauty in the earliest dawn of infancy, which is not interior to the attractions of chi! I >od, es pecially when they sleep. Their loo’. - excite a more tender train of emotions. It is like the trem ulous anxiety we feel for a caudle new lighted, which we dread going out. j£5T AA'e admire personal cleanliness, but we must say that we don’t like to see a man cleaning his teeth with a dirty pocket handkerchief; neither do we like to see a man, however attentive he may be to the wants of a family, put a beef steak in the crown of his hat, and till his trowsers’ pockets full of cucumbers. It don’t look well. JJ3T The following from Southey’s “Gridiron,” , now first published in his memoirs, ought to be set to music for the Beef-Steak Club: — “Now the perfect Steak prepare ! Now the appointed rites begin ! Cut it from the pinquid rump, Not too thick and not too thin ; Somewhat to the thick inclining, Yet the thick and thin between, That the gods, when they are dining, May commend the golden mean. Ne’er till now have they been blest With a beef-steak duly drest; Ne’er till this auspicious morn AY hen the gridiron was born.” 235” Avery good widow lady who was looked up to by the congregation to which she belonged, as an example of piety, contrived to bring her conscience to terms for one little indulgence. She loved porter, and one day just as she was re ceiving half a dozen bottles from the man who usually brought her the comforting beverage, she perceived [O horror 1] two of the grave elders of the church approaching the door. She ran the man out by the back way, and put the bottles under the bed. The weather was very hot, and while conversing with her grave friends, pop went one of the corks. ‘ Dear me !’ exclaimed the good lady, ‘there goes that bed cord ; it snapped yesterday just the same way ; I must have anew one provided.” In a few minutes, pop went another, accompanied by the peculiar hissing of the scaping liquor. The “rope” svould not do again, but the good old lady was not a loss. “ Dear tne!” said she, “ that black cat of mine must be at some mischief there. S’eat.’’ Another bottle popped off, and the porter came stealing out from under the bed curtains. “O dear me!” she cried, ‘I had forgot, its the yeast! Here, Prudence, come and take away these bottles of yeast.” — Picayune. Anecdotes. —A number of gentlemen and ladies met to spend a social evening. Soon after, apples, as is common at such times, were handed about. A gentleman, taking a seed of au apple, snapped it a lady on the opposite side of the room, which the lady observing, returned another, and struck him on the forehead. The gentleman, somewhat mor tified at missing his aim, asked her, “ why dare you contend with me?” Because,” said the woman, “ we are promised that the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent’s head.” In the old French war, as it is called, a gentleman by the name of Briant was chaplain on board an armed vessel. In the same vessel was an Irish barber of considerable wit and humor. The chaplain was naturally facetious, and loved a good turn, and would therefore often divert himself in con versation with this barber. One day while under his hands, he asked him if he knew the O’Briens in Ireland. The Barber replied that he did. “ Well,” said his reverence, “ that was my family name originally ; but after we left our country, we began to be ashamed of the O’, and have now got our name to be Briant. But,” added he, “we need not be ashamed of the family, for it was a high family in Ireland.” “ And indeed it was,” replied the shaver, in the brogue of his country, “ for I have seen some of them so high that their feci could not touch the ground .” “Jonas, do you love me?” “Well, Suky, I does.” “ How do you know you love me, Jonas?” “ Cause, whenever I sets you, my heart jumps up, ar.d kicks agin my stummuck so hard that 1 don't have any ap petite for a week.” 44 Psychometry —This strangc-looking word is the name of a bran new “science,” lately discovered, invented, or got up at the West, and claiming a place by the side of Biology, Rapology, and other modern developments. A phy sician in Missouri, gives ail account of some experiments he has performed by means of it, which may be found in “Buch anan’s Journal of Man,” published in Cincinnatti. We copy a paragraph or two, which will give an idea of this last new wonder: The first was upon a young lady, who was then confined with consumption. Her pulse at the time was over one hun dred to the minute. I cnvolved carefully, so as to conceal from her, the contents of the paper, and placed it in her hands. In a few minutes, she complained of a burning in her hands, which travelled up her arm to the body. She said it was a stimulant, and, in short, she just told the name of the article, (capsicum.) The pulse was reduced in number fifteen to the minute in about fifteen minutes. An active ca thartic was now placed in her hands, enveloped in paper, so as to conceal from her its contents. In about twenty min utes, she said it was a cathartic, and in about thirty minutes it operated on her bowels. After this expuriment, she com plained of being hungry. The idea of satisfying the hunger next attracted my atten tion. I placed a piece of chicken breast, enveloped in paper, in her hands. In a few minutes she said she knew what it was ; I laughed at her, because she said it was chicken and she could taste it. The experiment was continued about twenty minutes. She continued to affirm it to be chicken. I asked her if she was hungry ; she said no. In the next place, salicratus was enveloped and placed into her hands; in a few minutes she said it was salawatus—she knew beoause she tast ed it. It increased the frequency of her pulse and rather pro duced a coldness of the hands. In the next place, I thought I would arrest her cough and produce sleep ; for this purpose Beech’s cough powders were enveloped in paper and placed in her hands. In six minutes she showed strong symptoms of sleep. I then suspended the experiment, and she fell asleep immediately. Previous to going to sleep she said, “It is opium.” She rested finely all night. This terminated the experiments for the time. I have performed a great many other amusing experiments on her. In relation to experi ments with medicines she is not the only individual upon whom I have witnessed decisive and satisfactory results. In experimenting with autographs, the results have been more than I anticipated and entirely conclusive. The Jug and the Heart, — The jug is a most singular utensil. A pail, tumbler or decanter may be rinsed, and you may satisfy yourself by optical proof that it is clean ; but the jug has a little hole in the top, and the interior is all darkness. No eye ‘pene trates it—no hand moves over the surface. Aou can clean it only by putting in water, shaking it up and pouring it out. If the water comes out clean, you judge you have succeeded in cleaning the jug, and vice versa. Ilence the jug is like the hurnnu heart. No mortal eye can look into its recesses, and you can only judge of its purity by what comes out of it. (Driginnl aprrs. The Valley of Diamonds. BY T. 11. OHIVERB, SI. D. XXXVIII. The Rise, the Fall, and Decline of the Roman tmp is, are Three Books in the Grand Epic of the Ages, wi :er. in blood. The downfall of Carthage, Tyre, and Babylon, were three eventful scenes in the Great Drama of the Revolutions of the Ages. The lessons taught by some of the Actors, such as Lucretia, Brutus. Cincinnatus, and Fabrieius, are indelibly inscribed upon the adamantine Pillars of Eternity. The Roman Boy who stood undaunted before the proud Pro scenium, and thrust his tender hand into the devouring flames to shew how much it would take to subdue a’Roman soul, was one of the Actors in the great eventful Drama of the misdirected Ambition of Roman Patriotism. They all teach us that he who destroys himself to perpetuate his vir tues, destroys his virtues. He who wishes his virtues to live, should live himself, that his virtues may survive in him. Rome, in the flower of her greatness, stood in the midst of the prostrate Nations around her, like the golden Image of Ncbuohadnczzar in the midst of the assembled multitude who came to kiss the opprobious earth beneath its feet. YVhile she was thus trampling into dust the Rights of Man, the wild Scythian, hearing the mighty thunders of her voice, left his rude eanoe to float unpaddlod on the bosom of the Y'olga, and coming to her very streets, stood up erect in the native dignity of a Man, and. shaking his rustic sabre in her palid face, cried aloud— Liberty! The Freeman of the North came down from his frozen home, and rushing thro’ her iron gates, shook his lightning-like brand in the face of the Roman Senate, and cried aloud— Liberty ! The lofty Goth, who had left the Forests of Germany, came to her Capitol, and striking it with his mace shouted aloud— Liberty ! The mighty sound startled Oblivion 1 The prostrate Nations of the earth heard the sound ; and the enslaved Roman, as if the dead had risen from their graves to join the Immortal Armies of the skies, shook oft’ the ponderous chains that manacled his limbs, and stood erect in attitude divine, and shouted aIoud—LIBERTY ! The mighty fabric of Roman greatness was then tumbled into atoms—never to rise again! An incorporeal Wand, with that earthquake-power which shook the golden cup from the aspen-like hand of Belshazzer at the Imperial Banquet, on that fatal night of blasphemy, when his knees smote each other with tremulous fear, had written upon her walls, Mene, Mene, Tekel, Lfiiarsin. Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting. The last iron lash of God’s indignation was then broken in her soul! A Day at Amboy, N. J. AMBOY, August 31, 1850. Dear Doctor — Among the many places of resort for the bone and sinew of New Jersey to spend a day there is none more celebrated than Amboy. Cape May, Long Branch and Schooley’s Mountain, are noted for the resort of what may be- termed the upper Ten of this State. But all those of the lower Ten , living east of the mountain range which runs through the western part of the State, make their annual pilgrimage to this consecrated watering place. Here their Fathers and Grand-fathers have from time immemorial, on one or more Saturday# of July and August, come to dig clams and bathe in the noble Rar itan. And they expect that their dutiful children (of which there are not a few) will, in all coming time, pay their annual | visits to this agreeable and health restoring spot. I, in company with some Jersey friends, took my seat in a nice ! little Roekaway before which were two spirited horses, and set our faces toward this East Jersey Mecca. After at: easy vide of two hours, we arrived at the old town of Amboy, said to be founded before the city of New York, and to have had I considerable trade in foreign merchandize. At present it numbers about two thousand inhabitants. The Harbor is good and vessels are safe from storms. It has also a collector of the revenue and other port regulations. Here also is the residence of Dr. Andrews, who is super intending the construction of an serial locomotivo for trans porting passengers to the Land of Promise or California. The Doctor it is thought will succeed. The town has an ancient appearance the adjoining country is l productive. Corn, Oats, Potatoes, Wheat, and Buckwheat are abundant. The town is supported by what little commerce may be drawn to its port. And its trade in clams and oysters for which the Bay and river arc celebrated. After a short stop at the Amboy House, we rode on to the Beach, or as it is called the Bathing place. Here we found some two thousand people of all ages, sexes and colors with out distinction of party, wealth, birth or color. Here we found what we had read of, the plain unsophisticated far mers’ daughters, with a vast amount of good sense and beauty, and but little of that, foolish affectation and airs, which are too often found in what is called ultra fashionable soi : - v. Here we found a long row of Rockaways, and covered wag ons, not unlike your cotton wagons which served as houses for the ladies. In these wagons the ladies pn; are for their salt water ablutions, and thence sally out into the river. Near by is a large meadow and cornfield which sere in the place of wagons for the gentlemen. Here they doff their Sunday clothes and replace with old fashioned woolens. YY T hen all is ready they go, ladies and gentlemen, into the water, then such a splashing, ducking and screaming as one might suppose to find in Bedlam. After the bathing and plenty of fish and clams aboard, they leave for home, ten times more happy than the same number at Saratoga or New Port. Our party went through the same ceremonies. On our way back we stopel at Spa Spring, (a little celebra ted in these parts) and took a drink of country mineral water flavored with a little Jersey lightning , kindly furnished by a friend of ours. Such Dear Doctor, is a day at, to and from Amboy, with a few more left of the same sort. A TRAVELLER. Notes of Travel. “ There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our Philosophy”— Shakspeare. A man came down in the cars this evening from Atlanta, who was not only “ half Horse and half Aligator” but was “ half Indian , half Nigger and half Devil.” YVhen he ar rived at Charleston, he made the following remarkable con fession. “ Well—aw,Capting—aw, this here—aw, aw the fuss time — ate , that lemur seed savelt — team — taw—aw! ‘ This morning, the individual mentioned in the preceding note, made the following eloquent speech: ‘‘YYell—aw, Hamilton—aw, wat do you think —aw, of this here wald— aw ? Lets quit it and go ovaw to England—aw, kill Prince Albawt —aw, and bring little Y r iek back with us—aw, Ham ilton—aw!” A few moments ago a ‘‘nigger” entered the gentlemen's cabin with a polished bell in his hand, crying out at the top of his voice, “ GenTmen, awl doze dat hab not got dar ticket will please kawl at de Cabtin office and git the same !” A little while after he made his appearance again, “ like crying in the wilderness,*’ saying, “ GenTmen, awl d<„y c dat wat got dar ticket will please kawl at de Cabtin’# offc C e and show the same I”—Ting-a-ling-ling—ting-a-ling-lijig—ling ting ling! * > It is, perhaps, nothing more than justice concerned for mo to say that that bell was the only polished thing be longing to that Boat. ‘ Cel. Rrindlewhisker, of Charles on, >r'ade his appearance at the ladies’cabin this morning, and poki 4 his ugly r.- J head through the window, exclaimed in a dying-—cal;—tone, “ Webster's in Eternity 1! • went on to make several remarks as to the 11 ■!;. • ,■- sisting between the North and the : J v -. the Cabin spoke of the manifest i • .> it in- > J. had over the North, and portico .r power of Georgia, when he repfe-d, “ D,> vou tbmit - ? Why, I was in Georgia about a y-sr ag>, ;:.j tr;-_,! to Ljv half a doz>.n eggs from no ciJ • . wh> refused to s.-L them to me because she mid that it sold them to me every b.<dy else would want t<> bu> ;b*-in from h r.’ Brining a deep sigh, 1 consoitd ch by raying. “ab the fools are not dead yet.” “ No,” said an elderly gentleman at my elbow, nor .'■ the liar* neither.” His wile had the broken bone fever. YY hat do you think he had ? Softening of the brain. A few moments ago Col. Brindlewhisker’s broken bo ns fevered wife, whispered in his ear and asked him, in a pa thetic tone, who I was? He replied, “ Why, he's a Doctor!’’ A young lady of German descent, while traveling with us yesterday from Philadelphia to New York, occupied the whole of the time in talking in a fortissimo tone to two gen tlemen about that which neither concerned herself nor any body else in the wide world. She occupied two mortal hours in attempting to relate a story about two men who had made a wager to drink up each other's wine, and left us, in the conclusion, like Pharaoh's host when drowned ia the Red i Sea. When we arrived at Petersburg, Virginia, we all stopped at Jarrell's Hotel. Immediately after registering my name, I went to him to get a room. But he said be had not one— they were all occupied. I saw from the gianee of his eye, what he was doing. I immediately turned away from him, went out, and requested one us my friends to lend me his hat. Putting it on my head at the same time Landing him mine, I returned to the Bar, when he came up to me and said, are you the gentleman who wished a room ?” “ I am,” said I. ‘‘Well, you shall have one,” said he, anJ immediately took mo up to one. Do you know’, gentle reader, why this jackass refused to give me a room in the first instance ? Because I had an old hat on. So much for appearances in this world. Yet, Shakespeare tells us that a ‘‘rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’’ PIIILO VERITAS. political. So safety ia Secession. It cannot bo disguised that the design to dissever the North nud South, is by many persons in Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama and Mississippi, seriously entertained. There ia a boldness in the utterance of disunion sentiments characteris tic of settled determination, and a feeling tLat they are pop ular among the masses. A portion of the press boldly an nounce that it favors disunion. The following extract from the Wilmington Aurora finds an echo in many other quar ters : “We are for disunion, every body knows that. We look upon it as an inevitable necessity, postponeable perhaps, but necessary, particularly necessary, to North Carolina. Her present purpose is that of the giant, who thus recuperated his energies. Let the battle come, and Rip Van Winkle will teach some persons a lecture, which will never be forgotten. There are here around us almost a regiment of picked men, always rva ly, always rough, always gallant. ” There is matter of astonishment in the blindness of those who would urge the South to a civil conflict. The very ar gument which so strongly urged in favor of Southern seces sion, is the strongest possible reason for adherence to tha Union. The safety of the South is alone in the shield of the constitution. It is not invasion by an armed force which we should so much fear in case a Southern confederacy should be formed, as the civil means of attack which our enemies would possess. Destroy the defences of the constitution, and the entire South is open to insidious plots of religious en thusiasts who would steal into our midst, exciting disaffection and insurrection in our servile population. We could not guard our frontier against their entrance. Similarity of lan guage and blood remove all chance of discovering a foe who might approach in the garb of friendship. Civil aid moral agencies, secret, and of the most formidable character, would excite to awaken in our midst a servile war, than which none can be more fearful. These would supply the knife fer mur der, and light the torch of midnight incendiarism. Independent then of the direful consequences of a sects-” sion, even could it bo peacefully made, the South, by abandon ing the protection thrown around her by the compacts of the constitution, would prepare the way for the destruction of the rights she desires to maintain, o r lie? utter rina amidst the horrors of a civil war. The South is aggrieved; she may demand r.drcr-; jr : s urges that her plea should be heard: and the i: • * . obligations rest upon the deliberative eou.i.. - t the nati a ... secure her against a continuance of aggression. Bui w we press our claim with earntvnefrs and i.a initiation upon Congress there is folly in threats and •.fenuuck.ii- a of the Government which is our guarantee of prosperity and secu rity. While smarting under real wrong.-, mat y : <v. in to gigantic proportions. The wealth andef :: : . ti. pros perity and energy of the North, are regarded .s obtained at the expense of the South. Her millions of to. ng hands, and planning heads secure to the North h r progress. The untiring activity—the forecast which penetrates the distant future—develop her resources. The South too should flourish and exhibit an extraordnary development of all the elements of national powtr and ad vancement. YVe hare our bi ds of coal and iron, our quarries of granite and marble. YVe have a climate rtf'able for any production of husbandry. YVe hare mountains S< mnding in minerals, rich in ferests ; waterfalls that might move the ma chinery of the world ; rivers that can accommodate it# com merce*. YY'e alone produce the agrivultural staple# which control the market* of civiliied nation# , and yet in all tlint constitutes progress, we are outstripped by our’ mere North ern neighbors, who hare a comparatively sterile .il and un prepitions climate. The fault ia our own. YVe talk of seces sion from the Union, when we should assiduously cultivate the means of independence. Our reprew r.tativea in Con gress often display subtle ingenuity in splitting hairs ‘‘Between tha YVest and Northwest aide;” while those of the North art pressing bill# for the advantage of their constituency. Northern ship owners were once threat ened with ruin by the votes of the South. Resistance wa# made but not to the point of disunion. Capital was turned in to anew channel and prosperity revived. I# it not well to learn wisdom by the example# of our brethren ? Let ns drive the Northern factionists by our manufactures out of the market, instead of p rinitting them to drive us out of the Usich.” Let us build up a dome tie commerce, instead of becoming under a Southern confederacy a mere commer cial appendage of an European power. Let us produce our grain, cur meat, onr horses, and our cattle, instead of depend ing upon the free States Dr bread. This will give us politi cal strength ; this will defend us against Northern agitation ; this will enable us to maintain a balance of power in the Uni on. Our first duty to ourselves and to the Southern States, is to lend a helping hand to the development of our resour ces. Circumstanced as wc are. they are in reality enemies to tha Smth. however they may claim to b* friends, who wwuld NO. 26.