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vol: i. <Tlic Georgia Ciliseti ‘ i# published, every Saturday morning, in Macon, Ga. on the foilow i"s CONDITIONS : If paid strictly in advance - - $2 50 per annum If not so paid - • - -3 00 * “ Legal Advertisements will be made to conform to the following pro visions of the Statute : Hales of Land and Negroes, hv Executors. Administrators and Guard ians, are- required by law to be advertised in a public gazette, .sixty days previous to the day of sale. These sales must be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the Court House in the county in which the property is situated. The sates of I’ersonal Property must be advertised in like manner for ty days. ’ Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land and Negroes, must be published weekly for four months. Citations or Letters of Administration must be published thirty days ■ ftr Dismission from Administration, monthly, six months —lor Dis i mission from Guardianship, forty days. ftuirs for foreclosure of in rtgage. must be published monthly, for Jour months —for establishing lost papers, for the full space of three I months for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators where ‘ n i has bc.-n given by the deceased, the full spacr of three months. Professional and Business Cards, inserted, according to the follow ing scale: Eor 4 lines or less per annum - - $5 60 in advance “ 6 lines “ “ - - - 7 00 “ “ “10 “ “ “ - . sio 00 “ “ Transient Advertisements will be chargedsl, per square of 12 lines or less, for the first and 50 cts. for each subsequent ‘nsertion. — 1 On these rates there will be a deduction of 20 percent, on settlement, when advertisements are continued 3 months, without alteration. suy*” All Letters except those containing remittances must be post paid or free. Postmasters and others who will act as Agents for the “Citizen’ may retain2o percent, for their trouble,on all cash subscriptions for warded. OFFICE on Mulberry Street, East of the Floyd House and near the Market. ■■in limn i tMH'i t i ror i riihi nir xr 1 iTTT"TTO~rr-girwima Ih’iiffssmuil Carits.i KELLAJI & BELL, Attorneys at Law and General Land Agents, Atlanta, ,Ma., Will practice in DeKulb and adjoining comities; and in the Supreme Court at Decatur.—Will also visit any part of the country for the settlement of claims, <s-c. without suit. 3 ” Bounty Land Claims prosecuted with despatch. Office on White Hull St., over Dr. Denny’s Drug Store. A. R. KELLA.M. M. A. BELL. S. & R. ?. HALL, Attorneys at Lair , Maecn, Georgia. ] PRACTICE in ttibb, Crawford, Houston. Epson, Monroe, Martin, Dooly, Twiggs. Jones and Pike counties: and in the Supreme Court at Macon, Decatur,Talbotton and Americas. jytbrtct OVER SoOTT, CaRUART hi. Co.'s fcjTORE. April 4, 1350. 2—ly Wm. K. deGRAFFENREID, Attorney & Counsellor at Law. A, Tj m aconTg A. gTgr* or -E MULBERRY STEET, NEARLY OPPOSITE WASHINGTON ‘A HALL. .iuhx m. milled ATTORNEY AT LAW, SAYANXAII, GEORGIA. June 28th, 1850. 14—ly P. G. ARKING TO N, Attorney at Law and Notary Public, Ogletliorpc, Macon Cos., dec 14 G E O R CIV. 38— ts A, V iE| &E X D h AND NOTARY PUBLIC, —MACON, GEO. C COMMISSION Ell OF DEEDS, &c.. for the States of j J Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas, Tennessee, j Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Flori- j <!a .Missouri, New York. Massachusetts, Connecticut, Penn sylvania, Ohio,lndiana, Illinois, Arkansas, Maine, &.c. Depositions taken. Accounts probated, Deeds and Mort pajrf-s drawn, and all documents and instruments of writing ( prepared and authenticated for use and record, in any of the : above States. Residence on Walnut street, near the African church. O’ Public Office adjoining Dr. M. S. Thomson's Botan ic Store—opposite Floyd House. Macon, June 23, 1850 14—ly RSBIEI1BER! ‘ITTH.EJf in vntir extremity that Dr. 31. S. THOMSON is | ’ T still in IVTacon, Georgia, and when written to, sends lilt'didne by mail to any part of the country. Dontgive up all hope without consulting him. June 7,1850- 11 —ts Clje •pm'fii Cnnier, A Prayer. Almighty! God! and Father ! look down upon me now: j Thy servant would approach Thy throne, at thy footstool bow; In silence and in solitude, where none but thou may’st sec, 3 et not with ‘fear and trembling,’ I come to pray to Ihee. I kneel, to y-vsj and blew Thee for the good I now possess, rt That peace of mind which passeth all,” health, strength, j and happiness; The homage of a grateful heart, accept groat God ! from me; j Y! ihou wilt lend a willing ear, tho’ weak such homage be. God of the fatherless! be thou my God and Father still; Oil ’ shield me from temptation, and every other ill! Vouchsafe to me Thy watchful care, unworthy though I be—j| Thou hast promised none shall ask in vain who put their trusy in Thee. I God! let my orisons ascend, and throne^ at j My pleadings reach where mercy Ty home bewond For me, and all I love and prize, thytjH never cetyse, My ways be those of righteouness, 1/ t j mine the pa*.lts of peace. -J Yet not for me and mine alone, blit others, let me kneelS And offer up a fervent prayer for all Thy 1 err at ores’ wealy. For high and low, both rich and poor, my foes as wall as friends, Thus lowly, Lord, and reverently, Thy servant humbly bewuls. j Dh ! thou who temperest the wind, will hearken to my cry, ! W hose secret thoughts cannot be hid from Thy all search ing eve; 1 Thou knowest, Lord, 1 fain would be more worthy in r JJhy sight; / Rove, homage, prayers, and songs of praise I give Thee, — they’re Thy right. j I worship Thee in buoyant health, Thou comfort’st nie in pain ; | In seeking Thee, my search I know has not proved ail in wain: And when in sorrow and in sickness, my prayer is novi as then; I Greater! Maker! FatherlGodl Thy will bedonc.-<—Armen. ‘*'S ,k ‘*~s ,y^ Plea for Peace and Unity. “Behold, two men of the Hebrews strove together: and lie said to him that did the wrong—‘'Wherefore smitest thou thy brother?”— Scripture. Ye blessed sons and daughters, Whose ministry is pence, Pour Oil upon the waters, And bid their raging cease. An evil sprite is ranging, A sprite evoked from hell, The hearts of men estranging Who loved each other .ell. Oil, men of mine own nation ; Will any idle stand When rank infatuation Is periling the land ? Shall we renounce this Eden M here God has brought us in, And leave to men succeeding The heir-loom of our sin ? If guilt be on our brother, Whence comes to us the right The bosom of our mother With brutal hand to smite? M ill human blood, like water, Wash human sin away ? M ill fratricidal slaughter ’ Bring in a better day ? Shall women, wildly weeping Their sons and husbands dead, Invoke a curse unsleeping Upon a kinsman’s head? For son against the father, And father ’gainst the son, In fierce array may gather 1 ill murder’s doubly dono! M by quench the beacon’s burning That lights our western sky, To which all nations, turning, Look with a longing eye ? If now its fiame ye smother, And blast the hopes of men, llow long before another Shall light the world again ? W bile with harmonious motion Our valley-rivers run, And, flowing to the ocean, Commingle into one; So long may love incline us (Let every patriot pray) With olive-wreaths to twine us Till time's remotest day. JHisfflluiitj. . Frpnt-Snr twin's .Magazine Tlic Dangerous Beauties. * FROM TIIE GERMAN OF STOLLE. The lovely Wilkelmine, just in her eighteenth year, the daughter of a poor clergyman’s widow, hung upon mv neck and wept. At last I grew a lit tle impatient, and exclaimed: ‘Rut I don’t exactly see what this great misfortune is which you lament.’ ‘Cruel!’ ‘A week is not an eternity.’ ‘The daughters of the Counsellor are very beauti ful,’sobbed she. / ‘And if they were angels just come down from the/ seventh heaven of Mahomet, what then ? I’ll onl/* look at them, and then away.’ 4 They are rich too,’ she sobbed again. f ‘Hanker not after riches, which the moth <pox rupts,’ I replied, strong in Scripture. f ‘ I have the most melancholy forebodings,/ said Wi lhe Imi na, rno urnful ly. ‘lt is always so at separations,’ returned ’I •} ‘one is prone to fear the worst.’ / ‘ Your uncle is inexorable.’ j ‘ Stone and iron are nothing to him,’ vwns my re ply; I declared to him I could not possibly marry either of the Miss Junghauels. ‘Jufrt see them once,’ said lie, ‘and I wager you wilDTe of a differ ent opinion.’ / ‘ There it is,’ cried Wilhelmina sorrowfully, and clung anew around my neck, ‘ <JSo not leave me Frank!’ T ‘Rut what can I 4 do? I answered, ‘my uncle’s wish is not unreasonable. itA refuse to accede I to it, it will excite suspicic/n. M3 7 second fath er is persuaded that I dislikt/ those ladies, onlj be cause I nave never seen the™ ; all he desires is that I should see them, nothin® more. Cannot I grant him this satisfaction ? Rtisides this autumn weather is fair and mild ; I get f/ee from the counting-room for a week, and have a nileasant time of it.’ And you will forged me,’ said the dear girl re proachfully. i ‘ My heart and my thoughts are with you always,’ T said in a soothing touie, ‘no matter how far away fate bears me.’ / GY hen Wilhelntfma saw that I was resolved to comply with uncle’s wishes, and start the next day for W— j£- —, where the rich Counsellor Jung hauel witb/his three fair daughters resided, she re signed herself to the inevitable. I was obliged, how- I ever, tu/promise over and over again, that nothing ! .should! shake my fidelity. With all possible solemn ity,jßnd my right hand raised on high, I swore in | th/t light of the evening sky, where only a few stars \yrere visible, to be true to her. Then followed a Along embrace, an endless kiss, and the parting went * oil’ more happily then I expected. The next morning I set out in a one-horse vehicle for the beautiful country. Rut first I had grand au j dience with my honored uncle. ‘ You will not re gret this trip, Frank,’ said lie; ‘the maidens are beautiful, intelligent and well read. You will find there no silly little geese, such as are gadding about the streets. You may take all your learning with you. And remember too, they will have each thir ty thousand dollars; just take care to bring me home a nice little golden daughter-in-law, and I will take : yem into the firm. In a year or two I shall retire, and you are a made man, and may sit snug and j laugh at all the world. My tried old friend, the Counsellor, has set his heart too on this connection. Every wooer is not so highly favored. I had to run my legs oft’ to get my wife. The old people were opposed to it, and spit fire and flames. Fortune lies before you—seize it at once.’ ‘ Seize it at once,’ said I to myself, as I retired; * that is soon said, but my hands are tied, good un cle, so is my heart too ; and even if it were not so J could not consent to make my fortune in this way. — ‘I hese forced marriage ties, woven by a third hand, I hate them; it is a desecration of the union which I should be formed only by loving hearts. As lam i determined to go toW , and please my uncle, so far, I will just amuse myself with this bridal re view. So much I owe to my benefactor, to whom “Jnkpentrent itt all tilings—Neutral in Nott)ing. 1 ’ MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 15, 1851. 1 1 am indebted for everything. I am not forced to marry one qf these damsels : I will merely look at them—that will not cost anything.’ In these* little soliloquies, my carriage rolled a long the road. It was a lovely forenoon in autumn ; the sun shone on the hills, on which the vintage was just beginning. The most fertile landscapes flew past roe; the boughs of the fruit trees were bent heavily to the earth. From tree to tree, planted on both sides of the road, the busy spiders had during the night woven their silken webs, on which the deW drops glistened like diamonds. .L-’ 4 1 am a little curious about these daughters of the Counsellor, I continued in my soliloquy, ‘my uncle seemed at a loss for words in praising their beauty : I don't exactly understand how they have remained so long unengaged if they are such miracles. I sup pose that my good uncle lias been somewhat bliud ed by the hard dollars, as is often the case with these old speculating men of business.’ I had set my heart upon meeting with some little adventures on the way ; hut here I was disappoint ed. The journey passed off without incident. All the more numerous were the adventures that were ‘ to befal me when I reached my destination. It was ten o’clock on the next forenoon when I ‘ reached the large and handsome estate of the rich Counsellor. The morning was so beautiful, the coun try so delightful, that 1 resolved to leave my horse at a little inn about a quarter of a league from W—, and pursue the rest of the way on foot. Having paid due attention to my toilette, I putJf my resolve into execution, and tripped along tilth nice footwalk like a young girl. / Soon the stately buildings of the Counsellor,/ose before me. I had only a little birchen grove t# pass through before reaching the ample garden that ad joined the mansion. / 1 looked round in all directions, hopinjg to descry one, perchance, of the Graces whom J/v\- a3 to take for a wife, but in vain. In a field Ao the rUbt a couple of women, peasants, were At work. I was just entering the grove, when a slender female fig ure, clad in a graceful hunting dfoss, with a fowling piece in her hand, emerged frotfu the green shade.— She paused, and leaning on ]K Qr gun see med to sur vey the landscape with deliyJit. ‘ If that is one of J unglyhieli’s daughters,’ thought I, ‘my uncle was not to Auch out of the way; she is certainly very beautifuC.’ As I did not wish GTrusturb tho lovely vision, I passed on, as if I hat/ not observed her;” but I had scarcely proceed a flew steps, when a clear, woman’s voice called out Yllalt!’ ‘That can’t possibly be meant for me,’ 1 t/iought, and continued on mv way. Suddenly I lnjatifl a click, there was a crackling a mong the leavefe, and a ball whistled just over “my head. L’* 1 - I stopped instantly of cou*-**. - - -Li’ ‘TheVomafa must be Vazy.’ thought I, and a sly glance/at the desperate sharpshooter. Sue came slowly towards me. I was impressed in an in creasing dyJgree with her extraordinary beauty. A figure wbnch the ornamented hunting dress set oft’ to the greatest .dvautago, with blonde locks waving in rieh/fullness round her blooming countenance. ‘ Wjliat avails all this beauty,’ said I to myself, ‘if the unind is astray.’ Tme huntress had now come within fifty feet of me. / ‘ Who told you to go on,’she demanded in a tone f authoritative vet musical, ‘when I bid you halt?’ ‘My gracious ’stammered I, quite bewildered ! by the angry beauty. ‘lam not gracious,’ she quickly interrupted, ‘on ly God is gracious. What do you stop for now ?’ ‘ If am not mistaken, a ball flew over my head.’ ‘Are von afraid of balls.’ 4 Well, of ‘ Fv ! a man ought not to a afraid. ‘Rut accidents may happen.’ ‘ At no accident should a man show fear, and leas all of at a lady. You were afraid I suppose that I shoud hurt you ?’ ‘The lead whistled near enough.’ ‘ llow ? Do you think 1 sought your life ? Do you take me for a murderess ?’ ‘By no means, my lady.’ ‘ Do 3'ou then question iny skill in shooting ? ‘ Certainly not.’ ‘Well then, you shall know my skill. Over your head hangs an apple. Take it in the palm of your hand, and stretch your arm out; I’ll shoot the ap ple oft’. Will you wager anything?’ ‘ I don’t like betting of this sort.’ ‘Afraid again.’ ‘ Man has his weak hours.’ ‘ Coward !’ scornfully exclaimed the terrible crea ture, instantly taking aim again directly over my head. Clink went the lock. ‘Are you mad ?’ I cried horror struck; at the same time there was a flash, and again the leaves crack led. I thought I should have fallen to lhe earth in my terror ; the monster muA certainly have hit my hat. ‘ Take your hat off!’ Mechanically I obeyed. The extraordinary hun tress had shot a leaf oft’ of it. I trembled in every limb. ‘ Where are you going?’ she asked. Not to enrage the frightful maiden anew. I an swered as politely as possible, ‘To visit Counsellor Junghauel.’ ‘Then take care of the Counsellor’s daughters,’ said she with a laugh, and vanished into the wood. I gave wings to my feet, in order to get out of the vicinity of this strange being as speedily as possible. ‘ The deuce !’ thought I; ‘ have I got into Turkey and the middle ages, where they shoot at people merely to while away time? Who is this danger ous woman ? A spectre that frightens people, or a living being, with flesh and blood ? I guess the form er. W ould a human maiden practice her skill and criminal rashness, by making a mark of the head of a quiet traveller ? Beautiful, it is true, divinely beautiful; but Heaven keep me from such beauty, which is already, will ye, nillye, to blow one’s brains out. No, commend me to my Minna, even if she is not quite as beautiful as this second William Tell. ’Said this witch or wood spirit, or whatever she was—said she not,’ continued I, in my soliloquy, ‘that I must take care of the Counsellor’s daughters? It she is one of these dangerous beauties, the soon er I leave \\ behind me the better. I cannot believe that this wood-witch is Miss Junghauel. — Impossible! only a spirit, a wicked fury, could be have so.’ Although I kept my eyes about me, the fearful apparition did not again appear; and I got out of the grove without harm. One ought never to be presumptuous. I had longed for some adventure, and had been vexed that my journey had passed off so prosaically. I had nothing now, forsooth, to com plain of. A more romantic adventure could hardly well be. Alas! I was to be punished still more for my presumption. One sins against his fate when ■ he murmurs at it. Still greatly discomposed, I passed along the wall j which surrounded the beautiful garden of the Coun sellor. I entered the spacious court-yard, and en quired of some of the laborers, after the gentleman of the house. ‘ Retei',’ said one of the workmen to a little boy, lead the gentleman to your master.’ Peter ran forward ; I followed, and soon found my- ! self in the presence of the Counsellor, who seemed to me as hale and hearty, as when 1 had seen hinp iu years before at my uncle’s. He recognized saluted me with great cordiality. . / ‘ Right welcome to W ,he cried; | long hoped to see you, and have written repeatedly j to your uncle to express that hope.’ J 1 bowed respectfully. J ‘Make yourself at home,’ he resyrmed, ‘I will have you shown to your room. FbstJet us break a bottle of genuine Joliannisberg together.’ The man pleased me. A sayVant appeared at his summons, with wine and refreshments. We took our seats. From the window, near which we sate, a i delightful prospect wa^presented. ‘lt is a pity,’ beg*m my worthy host, ‘that, just at the moment ojFyour arrival, my daughters should be absent. L'Miould be happy to present you to them. they will return by the afternoon.’ ‘ I suppose they are out visiting,’said I. ‘NA’ replied Junghauel, ‘they are out upon bu- ‘ oyrfess.’ S ‘ Business !’ thought I, ‘ what business can young ladies have ?’ ‘However,’ resumed the Counsellor, ‘that you may have some acquaintance with my family, at least, in appearance, please step into the next room where their portraits hang.’ I followed him. Rut how was it with me, when from the richly gilt frames, the Graces of Greece seemed to smile down upon me, so beautiful were the portraits! Rut at tho same instant, what horror seized me as I saw that one of the Graces was no other than the wood-witch, spectre, or William Tell, who, a little hour before, had almost shot my bead off. ‘ This blonde, here,’ observed Junghauel, ‘is my Louise, the eldest of the daughterly trefoil, a really wild one, and a rover, a fine lad is spoiled in her.— I call her my Nimrod, because she is so fond of hunt ing. I don’t approve of girls having such tastes, but she will outgrow it; and as the child is at heart a real angel, 1 wink at her knightly exercises.’ ‘ Knightly exercises,’ asked I. ‘Certainly,’ continued the good papa, ‘Louise fishes, rides, shoots, like an old student; as I say a fine boy is spoiled in the girl.’ ‘Ay tp the young girl’s shooting,’ said I, ‘ I believe s L‘epitigfc,y ea dy, this very morning, helped her to ‘ow,’ She shot a leaf oft my bat.’ exclaimed Junghauel with surprise, i ‘you In:ipicic.Ud.v nii'de her acquaintance, then.’ I reTarod AJ ‘A mad-caj said the Counsellor, with a smile; ‘I recognize her. Rut you had nothing to fear; Lou ise has a sure eye.’ ‘ Allow me to remark that such manly employ ments hardly seem fitting for a young lady.’ ‘ I rue, true,’ confessed the doting father’ ‘you are right. I preach to her daily, but it is in one ear, and out at the other. If I get severe and knit mt - brows the child throws herself sobbing on my neck, promi ses improvement bv all the saints in the calendar, and does not leave me until I look pleasant again. Then, away she goes, and all her good resolutions are forgotten ; one cannot resist her, I give it up.’ We passed now to the portrait of the second daughter, Emilio, by name, as beautiful brunette as I ever set my eyes on, —high, commanding beauty; but here, in the lineaments of the countenance, a certain manly resolution was discernable. I stood with delight before the picture, and could not tear m} T self away. The Counsellor observed with evi dent pleasure the interest I took in the picture, and remarked, ‘ That is my Dieffenbach !’* ‘ Ilieft’enbach 1’ I asked, with surprise. ‘ Dieffenbach,’ he repeated with a smile. ‘ Emilie is the most skilful surgeon and operator in the whole country round. At this very time, she has gone to amputate the arm of a poor fellow—it was the only way to save his life.’ ‘ Avery elevated calling,’ I observed, although it seemed to me hardly the thing for a charming young laJ Y l\c turned to the third portrait, which smiled down on the spectator no less charmingly than the others. Rich dark curls waved round the blooming features. The features were softer than the others, and spoke more tenderly to the heart. ‘ I hope,’ thought I, 4 that this lady does not share in the pursuits of Nimrod or Dieffenbach ; she looks more gentle and feminine.’ ‘ This is my Oken,’f said the Counsellor. ‘What! The naturalist?’ ‘Just so,’ continued my cicerone, 4 this my young est daughter, bears tho. name of Ernestine; but I call her my Oken. The maiden is as conversant with Natural History, as a professor. Nothing is dearer to her than the study of nature, although it 1 has its disagreeables ! ‘ Disagreeables ?’ ‘ Ah ; you see, my young friend, the maiden brings home to me, from her wanderings over hill and val ley, woods and fields, so many ugly creatures, that I have nearly lost all patience. There’s such a crawl ing and twisting and jumping of snakes, lizards and - Ernestine is besides, a great friend to spi-j ders, of which she has a very valuable collection. — If you could only procure for her a specimen of the American tarantula, you would be exalted to the very heavens.’ 1 shuddered. 4 Yes, you should see Oken’s boudoir,’ resumed the happy father; ‘you would not suppose yourself in a young lady’s chamber but in a museum of nat ural curiosities.’ ‘Rut,’ I exclaimed in utter amazement, ‘bow came your fair daughters, sir, to take up such strange pur suits, so abhorrent, one would think, to their very nature.’ ‘ I will tell you ,1113- 3’oung friend,’ said Junghauel. ‘The fact is, the girls early loM their mother, a fine . woman, whose portrait you may also see hanging : there. I could not attend to their education; I thought I had done my best, when I procured for them a master, who was highly recommended to me,; and who brought them up like hoys. Their only i companion was my son Bernhard, who was unhap pily drowned at the High School, where he was j studying medicine. From him his sisters have learn ed and inherited their respective pursuits; Louise, her fishing, riding and shooting, Emilie, her surge *The name of the celebrated German surgeon. +The name of the celebrated naturalist. 1 ry, and her natural science. However, I lived in the hope, that when mv daughters haul found husbands to their hearts these strange pas ; sions will die away. Housekeeping will leave them little time for hunting, amputations, or scientific en i quiries. I admiVl ought to have endeavored to cor rect the evil curlier, but the thing is done and can’t be helped ; we will hope for the best.’ lhe more 1 thought over these singular qualities j of this, beautiful trefoil, the more was I pleased with Mheir'pursuits; as these would justify me in decli f mug to accede to the wishes of my uncle. 1 could ! not possibly think of a Nimrod, a Dieftenbach, or an I Oken for a wife ; no reasonable man could fail to ; see that. \Y hat availed all the gold and all the beau j ty! Rut still I was very curious to make the ac- I quaintance of the two younger sisters; — they must ‘be two lovely maidens. I did not care much about Nimrod. The fright of the morning still lingered in m3’ limbs; 1 could not feel comfortable in thevi j cinity of the huntress. The desperate creature could at any moment shoot away the food from my lips, a pinch of snuff from my nose. There is no trifling with firearms—that 1 knew by experience. After passing in review the family picture gallery, 1 returned with the Counsellor to the breakfast room. \\ e were scarely seated, when the barking of dogs were heard, and Louise, on a snow-white poncy I sprang into the court-yard. One could not wish a , 1 more charming sight than this bold, handsome rid<*r in her rich hunting dress. Every movement was j full of grace ; and yet I could not suppress a cer tain dread at the sight of the strange maiden. After Louise had ridden up and down several times, she leaped out of the saddle and hastened to wards the front door. ‘ Now, you will see the mad-cap, a little nearer,’ said her father, who had been watching her, not with out evident delight from the window. As he prophesied, so it happened ; the door was flung open and Louise rushed in, and without re garding m3 r presence in the least, flew to her father and threw her arms round his neck. ‘You wild girl!’ exclaimed he with difficulty, dis guising his delight under a tone of severit3’, ‘do you not sec who is present, —a very dear friend of mine.’ The beauty, still glow ing with the exercise of her ride, drew up her lovely form, and measured me with a look in which no friendly’ welcome was visi ble. A slight expression of scorn appeared round her beautiful mouth. ‘ If I do not err,’ said she coldty, * I have already made the acquaintance of this gentleman.’ 4 1 was so happy,’ I replied, with a bow, ‘as to serve you for a target.’ 4 1 could wish that 3*ou would behave more be comingly,’ said her father reprovingly, 4 but you are incorrigible, Louise.’ 4 Tattling, alread}’,’ said the maiden in a tone which sounduM-sutheiTiitlv'-coniurnpuioUs. Turning then to her father— 4 Only think, father, the young gentleman thought I had a design upon his life.’ ‘ When 3’ou speak again,’ said the old gentleman with some sternness, ‘I request that vou pay to a guest, whom I esteem, due respect.’ Louise answered not, but turned angrilv to the window, where she stood fanning herself. After some moments she stepped quickly to me, ‘Are you practiced in pistol shooting ?’ • Some years ago,’ I confessed, 4 1 used to shoot with an old pistol at a mark in our shooting-lodge. ‘Well, then,’ said she quickly*, ‘come with me to my shooting-stand, we will shoot for a wager.’ 4 Rut my daughter,’ interposed her father,‘let our guest rest to-day; to-morrow, or the day 7 after, you can shoot to your heart’s content.’ ‘Rut you are not tired?’ she asked, turning to me. However I may have felt, I had to disclaim any fatigue. ‘Rut,’ I objected, ‘I shall be thrown quite into the shade by your skill.’ ‘No matter for that,’ she replied, and drew me a way almost against my will.’ ‘Rut it will soon be dinner time,’ cried her father after us. ‘ You have only just breakfasted,’ replied the ea ger shooter, ‘ who would be so unreasonable ?’ I soon found myself with the beautiful blonde, at the shooting ground she had prepared for herself.— rhe maiden yvas so expert in the use of firearms that 1 was but a Ilans Taps in comparison. I had not touched a pistol for five years. The shooting at a mark commenced. As I fore saw, I was completely distanced. I thought myself I lucky if I only hit the mark, which was the size of a plate, while Louise’s ball regularly hit the black. The maiden, however, soon grew tired of shooting at an immovable; she shot at birds, at the leaves of the trees. At last her recklessness reached the highest point,—she produced a card. ‘Hold this card up,’ said she. 1 felt rather uncomfortable. ‘For what purpose, my lady!’ • I will shoot the centre out of it! You need not be particular to hold it very* still!’ ‘Rut my lady*, just consider!’ • Attention! lam going to fire.’ I flung the card from me. ‘You do wrong!’ I exclaimed; ‘I have not the least doubt of } T our skill—on the contrary ’ Louise stood before me with the levelled pistol, like an angel of judgment. 4 You will instantly take up the card and hold it: out for a mark? or I shall singe owe of your whisk ers with the ball!’ ‘ I conjure you, have done with your dangerous jests.’ ’I am not in jest,’ she replied with cool eompo-1 sure and aimed directly over mv head. Hearing ! and sight went from me. I dodged down, caught! up the card, and held it out as far as possible. I felt I that I trembled, but Iliad rather lose my arm than j my head. Crack went the pistol; involuntarily my hand; twitched. Louise came sj ringing towarc • me. The mad cap girl had really shot through the cen tre ; but, in spite of all this skill, I was greatly dis turbed. 4 M v lady,’ said I, ‘to confess the truth, I do not like jests of this sort.’ 4 It's all one to me !’ she answered with a laugh, 4 I like them.’ 4 Will you give me my revenge and hold the card for me ?’ ‘ W by not,’ said she, ‘ so soon as you have attain ed to equal skill.’ ‘And it I were a second William Tell, I would not aim at a fellow being; it is downright wicked.’ 4 3ou are a coward P she said contemptuously, and skipped away, leaving me very impolitely to my own meditations. 4 To have such a creature for a wife !’ thought I, ‘ a great comfort that would be; one would not be sure of his life for an hour ? No, though she were j seated in gold np to her ears, I would have none i of her; —good Minna, though you are not as beauti ful, yon have nothing to fear.’ 4 1 see very plainly,’ I thought, as I returned to the house, 4 that I shall not stay here long.’ The old gentleman came towards me. He appear ed to perceive my annoyance. 4 Nimrod,’ saie he, 4 has put you into a little fright again.’ 4 Sure enough,’ I replied, a good deal disturbed, 1 ‘the young lady is no doubt an excellent shot, but I asu not fond of such military exercises.* 4 You have not the slightest reason to fear.* ‘The deuce Ihave’nt,’ thought I, and replied:— 4 No one can have the direction of the deadly lead completely in their power; a quicker movement of the pulse, the tickling of a fly, may give a turn to the musket, not intended.’ The Counsellor appeared to assent to the truth of my words. He made no reply, but turned tire con [ versation. AVe walked through the garden, and paused be fore a gigantic sunflower, which arrested our atten | tion. 4 1 do not remember ever having seen so large a | flower of the kind as this,’ I remarked. The Coun sellor thought that still more beautiful ones might be found in other parts of the garden. While we stood looking at the flower a shot was heard, and a ball whistled by us, within a couple of feet, and the flower fell as if cut oil’ from its stem by a knife. The Counsellor himself was now really irritated. 4 You’re right,’ said he, 4 the girl goes quite teo far!’ and turning to Louise, whose angel face appeared among the shrubbery, he commanded her to put away the fowling-piece, and not touch it again for four and twenty hours. Nimrod vanished, 4 1 hope,’ said the father as we approached the house, 4 that my Kmilie will efface the the unfavor able impression made by her sister by her certainly very rough humor. She is quite the opposite, and while the other frightens everybody with her shoot ing, Emilieis, through her more useful art, the ben efactor of the suffering.’ \\ e reached the room where the dinner was serv ed up in the most elegant fashion. There were five covers, for Junghauel, his three daughters, and my humble self. A servant entered aud enquired wheth er we were ready for dinner. 4 Have Emily and Ernestine returned I’inquired their father. 4 Not yet,’ 4 And Louise V 4 Miss lias ridden away.’ 4 Well, then,’ replied the Counsellor, without fur ther expressing his dissatisfaction, 4 we two will dine alone.’ / ‘1 don’t understand,’ said he, after we were seated, what the mad cap would be at. I have never seen Ver quip} so wild as to day !’ The absence of Nimrod was by no means disa greeable to the. Had she been there, I don’t think 1 could have eaten a morsel; she would certainly have brought a conple of pistols with her to the ta ble. The dinner was most excellent.’ The terror which the shooting maiden had thrown me into left me __ particularly hungry. I was just on the point of setting to, when the door opened and the dark-hair ed Emilie entered. The portrait had not lied. The maiden was, it possible,, still more charming than Louise. I was as one enchanted before the angelic apparition. I re covered myself, and bowed with the greatest respect; but Emilie, like Louise in the forenoon, paid no at tention to my compliments, but hastened to her fath er and embraced him heartily. 4 Succeeded excellently !’ she cried. ‘I am quite happy to think the worthy Arnold is saved. Just look, the ann was already beginning to mortify. And with this she took the amputated limb out of a cloth, and shewed it to her father. I, who have always had the utmost aversion for surgical experiments, was perfectly horror-struck at the sight of the arm. It was all over with my ap petite. ‘But, my child,’ said the Counsellor, 4 we are eat ing our dinner; how can you bring such a thing be fore us r 4 Naturalia non sunt turpia coolly answered the female surgeon. 4 How can science and art disturb your appetite?’ ‘lf you forget rne,’ said her father, ‘you owe some regard to our guest. Mr. Frank Steeinman,’ hs added, introducing me, ‘ the nephew of my wor thy friend, of whom 1 have often spoken to you.’ At these words 1 >ieffenbach east upon me one of the most friendly looks in the world. 4 If 1 had known,’ coolly spoke the beautiful mouth, 4 that the gentleman would be horrified at an ampu tated limb, and could not bear the sight of blood, I certainly should have spared him this result of my successful operation ; but I supposed he was an ed ucated scientific man.’ Mademoiselle Emilie now became to me as intol erable as her highness, her mademoiselle sister.— Her father chid her, but his words were as wind; Dieffenbach troubled herself not >n the least at the paternal reproof; she was altogether to much occu pied with her amputation, and she was just upon the point, while she again held out the arm, to make certain anatomical principles intelligible, when her father lost all patience. ‘Take the horrible thing away,’ he cried in a rage. - Emilie carefully wrapped up her arm again in the li nen and vanished. ‘I cannot conceive,’ said be with vexation, ‘what has got into the girl to-day ; she is not always so ur gent with her surgical knowledge. The success of her operation must have turned her head. But now let us set too, and go on with our dinner !*• I was not in a condition to swallow a crumb. The horrible sight of the bleeding arm bad driven away. - my appetite for a week to come. After a few moments, Emilie returned and took - her seat at the table. • 4 Set too, my friend,’ saitf her father to"me en- • couraginglv, as he oliserved that I played with my fork without putting it to my mouth. As I did not wish it to appear that the amputa ted limb had frightened away my appetite, I drew out my handkerchief and held it before my mouth. • ‘ls any thing the matter V asked, the Counsellor ‘ anxiously, and Dieffenbach looked enquiringly at me. , ‘ My bad tooth begins to twinge,’ said I. ‘Do you suffer from a bad tooth V asked Emilie * hastily. One lie begets another. I answered : ‘Yes, indeed, if an atom gets into it, it gives me 4 most horrible pain.’ ‘lt must come out!’ said the female surgeon with decision, and sprang up and hastened to her sur geon’s case. NO. 47.