Newspaper Page Text
VOL. I.
(U)e (S-torgia
, pililijhe*i, crory Saturday morning, in Macon, Ga. on th follow-
CONDITIONS :
If paid itrutly m udvance - • 50 per annum
If not io paid - • ‘ • 300 “ “
Legal Advertisements will b< mailu to conform to the following pro-
Tuun of the Statute :
S%lc* of Land and Negroes, by Executors, Administrators and Guard
ians, are required by law to be advertised in a public gazette, sixty
4avi previous to the day of sale.
TUese sales must be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between
tkt hours of ten in tbs forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the
Oourt House in the county in which the property is situated.
The sales of Personal Property must be advertised in like manner for-
XoUce t Debtor* and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty
Xotlee that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for
’ leave t aU Land and Negroes, must be published weekly for foru
*CW*J*iu or Utters of Administration must be published tAirty days
—for Dismission from Administration, monthly, sis months —for Die
■ussion from Guardianship, forty days.
Ruin for foreclosure of mortgage, must be published monthly, for
four months —for establishing lost papers, for the full space of three
suatA^—for compelling titlesfrotn Executors or Administrators where
nu his been given by the deceased, the full space of three months.
Professional and Business Cards, inserted, according to the follow
ing scale:
For 4 lines or less per annum • - 85 00 in advance
“ 4 lines “ ** * --7 00 ““
.n 19 * • “ - - $11) 00 “ “
fy Transient Advertisements will be charged sl,per square of 12
I lines or less, for the first and 50 cts. for each subsequent nsertion. —’
Oa these rates there will be a deduction of i!0 (lerceint, on settlement,
when advertisements are continued 3 months, witlio ut alteration.
y~J~ All Letters except those containing reiu ittauces must be vost
, paid or free.
Postmaster* and others who will act as .Agents for the “Citizen’
may retain 40 per cent, for their trouble, on all cas t subscriptions for
warded.
■OFFICE on SicAerty Street, East of tho F'.oyd House and near the
Market.
Carta.
“ IKELLAN il liE LL,
Altonryiatß Law anti Get era! Luml Agents,
‘Atlnnttw G a.,
Will practice in DeKalb tftjd ■ Ijoi ning counties; and In
the Supreme Court at Decatur. — VVi .1 also visit any part of
Aha century for tlie settlement of o’ air is, ts-c. without suit.
\IT Bounty Land Clums pros .ici tku with despatch.
• UHTico on White Hall tit., over Dr. Denuy’s Drug Store.
AA. HR.MtLLAM. M - *•
S. & R. I*. HALL,
.Aflormcys at Law ,
Macon, Georgia.
T)fthS'Wilfc'?Ti CH?b, CTt.wfonl, Houston, Upson, Monroe, Macon,
1 o^ily, l T\t^g*, ! Sdiies and 1 >; ,ke counties; and in tli£ Supreme
Court at Miccn, t!cc?itur, , fa!tioUO n anil Amcricus.
r"OTicR ovkr SctVT, Cx! iiixitT 4c Co.’s Stork.
April ~~ ly
VVi^lfU"dcG HAFFENREII),
Atttttsef & ’Counsellor at Law.
.x nJc—y- trnruf, J
MACON, GA.
NEARLY OITOSITE WASHINGTON
HALL.
Marwh 2T,tS3fU I—ly
JOHNM. MILLER
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
Jane *Btk- t3O. H
l\ G . ARRINGTON,
Attorney at Law and Notary Public,
Oglethorpe, Macon Cos.,
dc 1 4 G E ORCIA. 58—ts
n&Yim E3SIS* xl
AND NOTARY PUBLICMACON/'GEO.
C COMMISSIONER OF DEEDS, &c., for the States of
J Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas, Tennessee,
Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, South Caroliua, Flori
da .Missouri, New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Penu
irlvauia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Arkansas, Maine, &c.
Depositions taken. Accounts probated, Deeds and Mort
gages drawn, and all documents and instruments of tvriling
prepared and authenticated for use and record, in any of the
above States.
Residence on Walnut street, near the African church.
O” Pudi.ic Orricc adjoining Dr. M. S. Thomson’s Botan
ic Store—opposite Floyd House.
Macou, June 29, 1850 14—ly
REMEMBER!
“YITH.F.H in your extremity that Dr. 31. S. TIIO3ISOX is
\V still in ITCacon, Georgia, and when written to, sends
Medicine by mail to any part of the country.
Dnntgive up all hope without consulting him.
June 7, IB6o* D —ls
<T> pnifo CaniH,
Mrs. Partington at the Theatpaj,
Mrs. Partington, according to theN. Y. Tiibuno, lias been
,in that city, and while there witnessed a play by; wsakspear ,
called “Just as you Like it.” She says that a n\m nan. ; I
Jake spoke a piece called “Seven Ages,’ a.id niatle su- i
an expression upon her, that site lanit it by heart. I; was :• t
follows:
All tho world's ?. stage;
.\nd all the men and women are merely passenger ;
They have their axes and iheir entry ways,
And one man keeps time and plays his part, aj..
And all the axes have seven edges. First tho babj^
Mewing, &c., in its nurse’s arms;
And then the winning sehool-by, with his scratohajrl,
And shinning mourning face, running like 8 snail
Unwittingly to school, then the lover,
Sighing like a foundary with an awful bandage
Made of his mistress's eye-brows ; then the soldier,
Zealous in horror, scrubbing a stick in quarrel,
Seeking the blubber refutation
Into the cannon's mouth ; then a justice of the peace,
In fair round belly with good aprou lined ;
His eyes so sore, and beard of normal cut, /
Full of old handsaws and modern mischances;
And so he brays his partS - ; the sixth edge simmers
Into the lean and slippery pair of pantaloons,
With youthful hoes, well shaved, a world too wide
For this crook shank ; and his big homely voice,
Turning a grain towards his people, pipes
And mizzles in his sound ; and last of all
That ends this strange repentful history,
In second childishness and mere pavillion — ,
Sands’ teeth, Sands’ eyes, Sands’ tasteing, Sands Sarsaparil
la I
An Irishman who was very near sighted , about to fight
* duel, iusisted that he should stand six paces nearer his an
tagonist than the other did to him, and that they were both
to fire at the same time.
Agricultural.—A person looking at some skeletons, in
an anatomical museum, the other day, asked a young doctor
present, where he got them. He replied, “We raised
(hem'”
JBkTllatu[.
Itoih the Philadelphia Enquirer.
Husbauds and Wives,
TIIEIII EHUORS AXD TIIEIII DUTIES.
“But happy they, the happiest of their kind,
M hom gentle stars unite, and in one fate
linr hearts, their, fortunes, and their beings blend.”
Mairiago is said to boa lottery. It would seem
so indeed, in souio cases, tiio contrasts so extraordi
nary, and tho circumstances so novel. But so sol
emn a compact, so sacred in the eyes of Heaven and
the law, and so calculated to affect for “better,” or
for Morse, not only .lie temporal but eternal hap
piness of the parties, should not bo thought of light
ly, or determined on rashly. We fear that in too
many marrmges, worldly considerations are permit
ted to exercise a controlling influence. Hands aro
united, not hearts. Pecuniary objects, and not har
mony of sentiment, constitute the “ motive power?”
Matches are made with reference to “an establish
ment,” and not to a life of peace, tranquility and hap
piness. The best affections, the highest sympathies
are trifled with, and sacrificed, if not sold, while the
glitter of fashion, and the pomp and vanity of world
ly display, conceals tho breaking heart within.—
Hence the frequent divorces, the unhappy homes,
tho lonely and deserted wives, the dissolute and
reckless husbands. On the other hand, how many
rush into matrimony, who do not duly consider the
responsibilities, who take no note of the future!—
Controlled by a sudden fancy, influenced by a wild
impulse, they hasten on, and find “ too late,” that
they have assumed a position, to which they aro
inadequate, that the struggles and trials of tho world
are fearful, that more nerve, patience and perseve
rance are necessary, than they command. The x
---citement, too, the delusion may have passed away,
and they aresuprised to find imperfections in the an
gel of their idolatry. They forget that themselves
are fallible, full of errors, and thus they cannot make
allowances for others. They become petulent and
peevish, harsh and brutal, and tho “ rosy and sunny
home” that was pictured in tlio “day of dreams,”
is converted into a scene of strife, of anger, of pas
sion and discord. I hey find themselves disappoint
ed, soured. The prospect has changed, and instead
of discovering the cause in themselves, instead of pur
suing a magnanimous and a manly course, they turn
upon tho “gentle one,” in whoso ears they “so
lately,” poured fond vows and earnest protestations,
and make her the source of all tho bitterness and
vexation. Alas ! for the victim under such circum
stances ! How, day after day, must her fairy dream
fade, and the withering reality of a long life of sor
row loom before her ! How in her quiet hours, she
must remember her early home, and the lavish love
she enjoyed beneath the paternal roof. At times, too,
jT’* 5 o nitf—iiuil ft'd
tea signature-,, her heart, and communicate the ’.
of her soul to the being who vvatched over her cra
dle ! And yet, why disturb, why agonizo unnecces
sarilv ? —why communicate a sorrow that will only
pain aud wring, without the means of affording re
lief?
But there is another side to this picture. There
are gentle ones who forget or neglect their duties,
and who, by asperity make borne a scene of perpet
ual discoid. The husband is welcomed with frowns.
Complaints are ever uppermost. Nothing satisfies.
Toil on, by day or by night, and still the murmur is
the same. A peevish and fretful disposition seems
to have taken possession of the “ better half,” and
after struggling in vain against such a constant
source of disquiet, the husband abandons his home
in despair, and seeks elsewhere for companionship,
or at least for exemption from perpetual fault-find
ing. How feat ful this mistake on the part of young
wives—how they trifle with affections—how they per
il peace of mind ! The out door world is full of care
and anxiety. The struggle for the means of subsist
ance often taxes all the energies of body and mind!
The competition in trade, the rivalry in business, the
vicissitudes of chance and change, the perils of mis
fortune, the treachery of friends ! Alas ! these sel
dom enter into the ordinary reflections of a thought
less wife, especially if she be vain, proud and devo
ted to display. Her idols are false pride , inflated
vanity , and a desire to excel! and if her husband does
not minister to every whim of the hour, if he hesi
tate to comply with her demand for funds—if he ven
ture to remonstrate against unnecessary expendi
ture, anger, passion and invective are by no means
unusual. He may at the moment be pressed to the
earth by some sudden monetary exigency, and may
require extraordinary moral courage to maintain his
position and sustain his character—may need conso
lation, encouragement and incentive to exertion,
and instead, find reproaches, angry looks and harsh
insinuations at home ! How many men have been
maddened and ruined under these circumstances. —
llow in some sudden moment of excitement, have
they abandoned the control of their own fortunes,
and yielded to the dark impulses of despair. Part
ners in trade are bound by the laws of self-interest,
to say nothing of higher and nobler considerations,
to assist each other by every honorable means.—
How much more incumbent, therefore, is such poli
cy in partners for life, and between those who have
united themselves for better or for worse—between
man and wife, who linked themselves, not only on
grounds of affection and principle, but to a certain
extent have made their destinies one! llow essen
tial the wisdom and duty of mutual forbearance,
mutual assistance! How important that each should
contribute to the happiness of tho other, to soothe
the sorrow, and to share the joy—to counsel and en
courage in a moment of adversity, to restrain and
subdue in the hour of prosperity. The bond of
marriage, when entered into wisely, thoughtfully
kindly and generously, is indeed the bond of affec
tion, of concord and of happiness. But the obliga
tion is mutual, and while every husband of a right
mind and of aright heart, will endeavor to provide
to the best of his ability for the necessities and com
forts of the being of his choice, the wife should not
forget the smile of welcome at nightfall, the look
and manner of love that subdued and won. She
should not forget the honor, tho interests, the hap
piness and prosperity “ ot the head of the house
hold,” and the source of all its comforts!
The Selma correspondent of the New Orleans Delta re
cently attended the examination at tho Masonic School, at
that place, at which ho overheard the following comments ‘ a
la Partington,’ upon the examination :
“Well, old man, don’t talk to me ’bout sending our gals
and boys to any such school as this, where young women go
right up before decent folks aud draw diaplirams on a black
board, and then allude in these immortal terms to the hippo
pottamus of the tyranglc, just as if they knew all about
them veracious bea&tesses, as go about in the car-raven,de
vouring men, wonun, and little children—then to bear the
“Jnißpenbcnt in all things—Neutral in Notl)ing.”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 1, 1851.
pert little Misses abuse Miss Polly Gon, and call her the rec
tor’s ideal figure, and excuse her sister llepty Gon of having
seven sides. Gracious me, what salamanders ! Then to
see them big boys get them up and draw their diaplirams
too, and hear them expatriate about the iunergals calculus,
(some new fangled disease, extracted by wearing tight cor
sets, I’ll warrant 1) and the comic selections, Oh ! goodness
me! cramming young people's heads, with such truck, is
is enough to givo woman like me the peripatatic fits.
I shall go straight home and extricate all sucli carry ins’ on
by them dreadful aud salamanderous masonicul teachings.”
fa
Tnc Burning Praric
OH, THE TEST OATH. )
Lato in tho fall of 1850, Grand I’rairio, in lllin .is,
was burned over one night, and an immenso amount
of damage was done to the farmers living in and a
long its edge. Numerous fences were destroyed;
and crops of corn, ready for the gathering, were laid
waste; while numberless stacks of grain and hay,
put up for tho winter’s use, were set on fire and burnt
to the ground. The havoc was worse because of the
conflagration’s coming suddenly and unexpectedly,
as when the sun went down and darkness covered
the prarie, no smoke arose from the southern edge
of the plain, nor could any lurid glare be seen rest
ing on the sky, to indicate that the grass was on tire
—and as it generally took a whole night for it to
cross tho prairie, all the farmers living on the north
ern edge, retired to their beds in perfect security.—
But in the middle of tho night, many of them were
aroused to find their fences on tire, their habitations
surrounded by flames, and in some instances, even
the houses in a bright blaze, from which they witli
difficulty escaped alive. A farmer whose family con
sisted of a wife and daughter, the latter some sev
enteen years of age, who resided some six miles in
the prairie, had his house destroyed, while himself
perished iu the ruins. The daughter was saved by
the daring energies of a young man named Clyde,
who had discovered the fire, and arrived just in time
to tear her from the building, ero tho roof fell in.
The morning after the conflagration, tho inhabi
tants of tho little village of Bluffton, situated on the
edge of tho plain, was set iu commotion by rumors
of the fire being tho work of some heartless scoun
drel, who had thus gratified his malice on some indi
vidual by injuring the whole community. These
rumors at length became a fixed fact, as about ten
o’elocjf, a man named Gray, a roving character, with
no ostensible means of livelihood, appeared before
the Squire of the village, and stated that he wished
a warrant issued for tho apprehension of David
Clyde, for setting 4 the prairie on fire tho previous eve
ning, by which so much waste of property, and
wanton sacrifice of life had occurred.
The warrant was issued and placed into tho hands
of the constable for serving; and while this official
was in search of Clyde, the young man cainq into
the Squire's office and entered a like coinplajnt a
gamst Gray, bur was informed that Gray liad7i7s-np-’
peared, aud obtaiued a warrant for his arrest, which
\was in the hands of the constable.
lie seemed taken back when first informed of this,
but promising tho Squire that he would be present
at one o’clock that afternoon, ho departed. Word
was sent to Gray to he present at the appointed time;
and as the case was an unusual one, the room was
crowded to hear the statements.
Gray’s story was short, lie swore that, having a
wolf trap set some distance out in the prairie, he had
taken up his lodgings near it the night of the lire,
and about 12 o’clock ho was aroused by the snarls
of a wolf which had been caught in the trap. He
rose to go to it when he discovered another man
by, who dismounted from his steed, drew out a steel,
flint and tinder from his pocket, and striking a light
thrust it into the grass, which instantly blazed up,
and favored by a strong southern wind, sped towards
the settlement, and in the direction of Mr. Fisher’s
house. That the horseman-, Av!)G!iv--he
as Mr. Clyde, then mounted his horse and rode a
way.
This statement had been listened to with breath
less attention, and as Gray had delivered it appa
rently in a cool aud truthful manner, it had consid
erable weight upon the audience. But it had produ
ced no effect upon David Clyde. The features of
the young man were as calm as ever, and his counte
nance underwent no chango during the recital of
Gray. When the latter was done, ho arose to his
feet and exclaimed,
“My statement of the facts as they occurred upon
the evening of that most deplorable fire, will be more
minute than that of my accuser, and will occupy
more time; hut I hope not only the Justice hut
the audience also, will listen patiently to what I have
to say. It is well known to many here that I have
a.brother, residing in Walnut Grove, and upon the
night of the fire I was returning from a visit to him.*
When about ten miles tho other side of Mr. Fisher’s
as I was riding leisurely along, I saw a man a short
distance ahead of me, kneeling by the road side,
and apparently endeavoring to light a fire with steel
and tinder. I started my horse into a gallop, at the
same instant giving a shout, and the man sprang’to
his feet, but dropped a burning lock of grass, as he
did so into tho prairie, the dry hay of which was in
stantly in a blaze.
Scoundrel! I exclaimed in a loud voice, as I came
close to him; but with a hoarse “ ha, ha, ha,” he
retorted —
“ Don’t ho angry, Mr. Clyde, for getting mad
won’t stop the fire. 1 guess old Fisher’ll catch it
to night, and his naughty daugher too.”
“Villain, you shall answer for this,” I replied, as
I turned my steed, and spurred him after the rol
ling flames, which were sweeping swiftly away be
fore a strong south wind, and rolling on in the di
rection of Fisher’s house. In vain I urged my horse
to his utmost speed, for the cracking fire spread far
ahead of me, and when over a mile and a half dis
tant, I beheld the lurid blaze leap the fence like a
stag hound, and go careering on towards the house.
Almost maddened at the sight, I goaded my gal
lant horse, wlio*hounded forward like the wind, but
when still half a mile from tho building, I saw a
bright sheet of flame arise from the roof, and became
aware that the house was on lire. The burning
prairie had made it as light as a day but my eye
ran in vain around the premises to discover a single
person, and the fearful thought flashed instantly
through my mind that the family were asleep in the
mansion, the roof was in one lurid glare,aud leaping
from my steed, I let him go, and throwing my weight
against the door, burst it in. A dense volume of
smoke poured out, almost suffocating me for a mo
ment, but regaining my breath, I ascended the steps
to the second story. A door was visible on my right
hand as I reached the top, and it required all my
weight to break it in ; but when I did so, a female
form staggered forwards and fell into my arms —I
hastily bore her down stairs, by this time covered
with cinders from the burning roof, and as I leapt
from the door it fell.in with a terrible crash, shower-
ing the sparks thickly round me. The person whom
I rescued was Mary Fisher; and the old man and
his wife perished in the flames. My horse had fled
in alarm from the spot, and as the nearest neighbor
was four miles distant, we were compelled to walk it
on foot. Day broke by the time we had reached the
house, and leaving the disconsolate girl at her neigh
bor’s, I came immediately here, and found I was to
late to lay my accusation before you first. Such
aro the facts in the case; although they are mostly
exactly opposite to the statement madeby Gray.”
Clyde had delivered his story in an impressive
; ’ and convincing manner, but the justice was puzzled
, Vctrhf the two to believe. Tho advantage lay
Avith Gray, as ho liad made the first accusation, and
tho statement of Clyde might be only a tale invent
ed to upset tho evidence of his accuser. Neither
had proof, as no one else saw the deed, and tho
Squire informed them that he knew of no way to
dispose of the case impartially, unless he bound them
both over to the court.
To this Gray strenuously objected. lie had ap
peared and accused Clyde, he said, that the real au
thor of the late catastrophe might he justly punish
ed, and thought that to bind them both over, would
have an effect to deter others from making accusa
tions against malefactors from their own knowledge
unless lie had positive proof of their guilt. He de
manded that Clyde should he held to hail and not
himself.
When he had finished, Clyde once more got up,
and turning to the justice stated as they both stood
there without witnesses, and consequently it did not
lay in his power to tell tho guilty oue, with his per
mission, and the consent of Mr. Gray, he would pro
pose a plan by which he hoped the matter would be
thoroughly settled. It was this, —“There is au Infi
nite Being, sir, who rules iu a higher sphere than
ours, and to whom all things are known, from whom
nothing can be concealed. I propose to Mr. Gray,
that we both appeal to heaven; and let the God of
the universe decide upon our guilt or innocence. I
feel that I sir, am not a malefactor here, and I chal
lenge my accuser, iu tho presence of this evidence,
to accept my imposition.”
Clyde ceased speaking, amid an utter stillness, du
ring which ho becaino the centre of all eyes; Gray
also rose and replied,
“ I will consent to do anything which the Squire
says is right.”
I can see no objection to Mr. Clyde’s offer, al
though I do not suppose tho case will bo materially
altered by it, said the justice.
“Then let him go on and I will follow suit,” ob
served Gray brazenly.
Slowly David Clyde fell upon his bended knees,
and raising his face and arms towards heaven, utter
ed amid tho most death-liko silence, tho following
appeal:
Eternal Being! Thou who seethand knoweth all
i things, andean tell the guilt of us two, into thy
I covLnit in* innocence, and beseech tlieo
Almighty* am guilty ot'the crim :of wfcicL,
l anUficJ particle. ; dike mo dead iu the midst of this
then mostVi us appeal.
For a full rnonielit alter he had finished, Clyde
remained upon his knees, then rose to his feet, and
with his folded arms gazed round him. The counte
nance of Gray had paled during the prayer of Clyde,
hut as every eye was upon him, he nerved himself to
the task, and also fell upon his knees ; with a loud
and hurried voice, he repeated the appeal, but when
he came to the words Almighty God, if I am guilty
of the crime of which I am accused, strike mo dead,
his face became white and he fell slowly forward.
The stillness which reigned at that awful moment
was fearful. Not a sound could he heard in that
room, and it seemed as if every breath was hushed
so deadly silentevery one appeared. At last the jus
tice, who hud bent forward with a look of horror
to gaze upon Gray, motioned for a constable to ap
proach and turn over the body. He did so, and ev
"ery eye kioked that wav beheld the icy face of
a corpse, and the livid hue ( jl s deHthresting upon the
countenance of the blasphemer.
They bore forth the corpse, and huriccl si
lence in the prairie, and to this day tho old
in the neighborhood shudder as they recount to the
passing traveller that answer to the appeal to Heav
en.
School Instruction.
A large number of persons entertain the idea that
education consists in what is generally learned at
school. Education, however, is of a very compre
hensive nature, and includes the forming of charac
ter in youth. That which is taught at school is at
best a very limited kind of education ; it refers prin
cipally to the acquisition of certain kinds of techni
cal knowledge, and therefore chiefly concerns the in
tellect. We can, indeed, imagine the possibility of
a character-forming education at school; but in the
present state of things it is rarely realized. What the
schoolmaster imparts is instruction, not education in
its entire sense; and we mention this, in order that
parents may see the propriety of not expecting too
much from their children by attending schools.
School attendance, is not valueless, in a moral
sense. It creates habits of order and attention to
time, and is useful in lowering those notions of self
esteem, which children educated in solitude are apt
to form. One of the most serious errors inordina
ry schooling, is tho practice of competition among
pupils. The holding out of prizes for proficiency
inspires tumultuous passions iu youth; and conquest
is only achieved by dashing the hopes of others. —
But this is not the worst of its evils. It is often
attended by physical as well a?, moral injury. The
eager striving to obtain prizes frequently leads to
uudue excitement in the brain, which tends in dis
ease and death. Whether for tho paltry triumph
of seeing their children carry oft’ a prize, or for the
pleasure of seeing them prodigies of learning, pa
rents are equally blameable in urging too close at
tention to study.
Some children manifest an extraordiry aptitude
for learning while still very young. They will be
observed to learn a lesson or commit hymns to rnem
ory with marvellous ease. This precocity, as being
considered a mark of genius, usually delights pa
rents. They are not aware of what they are admi
ring. Precocity, is an unnatural development of
brain; it is tho beginning of functional derange
ment, and if not checked, will probably lead to mel
ancholy consequences. In children of tender con
stitutions, precocity is almost uniformly fatal.
Parents should not give themselves any vexation
about the apparent backwardness of their children in
school learning. In most instances, pupils get for
ward as quickly as necessary, and at all events as
fast as their faculties will admit of. Some children,
indeed, will require to be inspirited by every admoni
tion ; but if they seem to do all that is in their pow
er, they ought not be rebuked. To blame a child he.
cause he is behind his fellows, would in many case.
he as absßid as to hlnmo him for not being able to
wield a sledge hammer. After all, proficiency at
school is found to be no indication of success thro’
life. Generally, lie who has the best memory is the
best scholar; and as a vast many things besides
memory is required to make an accomplished man,
it not uufrequently happens that hoys who made a
poor figure at school, display great energy of pur
pose on reaching manhood.
Five years of ago is early enough for the com
mencement of attendance at school, though before that
period children may be taught their letters at home.
The elementary branches of instruction are reading;
writing and arithmetic; and these all should.learn.
The higher branches may he said to consist of math
ematics, foreign and classical languages, music, tc.;
and instruction in these departments is less or more
given, according to the means of parents, and other
circumstances.
On this subject we must confine ourselves to gen
eral recommendations. Children possess not only
different degrees of aptitude, hut a different mani
festation of faculties. Some have an inclination to
learn one thing, and some another; one boy will
show a strong taste for mathematics, another will he
equally bent on learning classical languages. On the
whole it is best not to thwart these dispositions—
they only need to be regulated according to profes
sional views.
Asa general advice, wo would say, give your chil
dren as good a school education as your means will
admit of. Saving in this branch of expenditure is
poor economy ; for nothing yields so good a return
as liberal education. Select also the most respecta
ble schools and teachers. If governesses need to he
hired for your daughters, offer and pay a suitable
salary for their valuable services.
In childhood the faculty for imitating sounds and
words seems to be much stronger than it is in after
life. Whether this arises from any peculiar condi
tion of the mind, or only from the want of engros
sing cares, is of no consequenco to our present pur
pose. The fact is evident, that children may with
ease be accustomed to speak any language, however
difficult, and not only one, but many languages.
If parents, therefore, wish children to speak French
as well as English, all they need do is to speak
French to them, or get a French nursery governess
with whom they can spend part of tho time. By
means such as this, it would be a matter of no great
difficulty to cause a child, before it was twelve years
of ago, to speak several languages —as, for example,
English, French, German and Italian—will) perfect
fluency and exactness. Such is the plan usually pur
sued in tho education of children in various conti
nental countries ; and as it gives no trouble to the
pupils, it is much preferable to that adopted in Eng
land, whero learning of foreign tongues is a serious
drudgery at school, and occupies time which should
be employed on something more dignified than the
mechanical re quisition of words. Among the Eug-i
glith .rjobility, wo beljVe, tlio pLuvof employing ]
French nursery governesses is becoming coiiuuoiC--- 1
Chambers.
The Lent Paper.
•‘John, what has becomo of last week’s paj>er inquir
ed Mrs. C , of her husband.
“Surely, wife, I cannot tell; it was brought from ihe of
fice, I think.”
“Yes ; Jaines brought it home on Saturday evening ; but
neighbor N , and his wife being here, he laid it on
the parlor table.”
“Oh, N has got tho paper ; I think you do very
wrong, husband, in lending the papers before wo have read
them. Ho who takes a paper and pays for it, is certainly
entitled to the first perusal of it.”
“ Yes, but N asked me to lend it to him, and how
could I refuso so kind and obliging a neighbor? lam sure
ho would lend me his, if he took one, and I should want to
boriosv.”
“ Don’t N take a paper?” inquired Mrs. C
with surprise.
“ No.”
“ Why not ? Ho is, as he says, always very fond of rcad
“ YAUktf-krt-rOWimnrfljnk himself unablo to pay for
one.” ‘"**n M **_
“ Unable ! 110 is certainly as able as we are. lie pays
a much larger tax, and ho is almost always bragging of his
superior cattle, and”
“Hush wife! It is wrong to speak of our neighbors’
faults behind their bucks, lie promised to return the paper
to-day.”
“ I hope ho will. It contains an excellent article, that I
desire much to read.”
Mrs. C was an excellent lady, aud probably, possess
ed as liberal feelings as her peace-loving husband; but she
could not believe it to be their duty to furnish a free paper
for their more wealthy, yet covetous neighbor.
N had formerly taken a paper; but thinking it too
expensive, to the no small discomfiture of his wife and chil
dren, ho had ordered its discontinuance. lie, however,
dearly loved to read, and had, for a year or more, been in the
habit of sending “ little Joe” on the disagreeable errand of
borrowing old papers of his neighbors.
Mrs. C waited patiently during tho day, expecting
soon to see little Joe coming with the paper; but the
day passed, as likewise did the evening, and no paper came.
The next morning after breakfast, she was heard to say—
“ Well, John, the paper has uot returned yet.”
“ Ah, indeed ; I guess neighbor N has either for
gotten his promise, or is absent from home,” replied Mr
“ I think,” she continued, “wo had better send James
down after it.”
“ Would it not be best, wife, to wait until afternoon ? N
may return it before that time.”
“ As you think best,” was the submissive reply.
They waited until nearly dark, but no paper made its ap
pearance. James, a smart lad of ten years, was now in
structed to proceed to neighbor N ‘s and get the pa
per. He soon arrived, mid made known his errand. lie
was very politely informed that it was lent to R , the
blacksmith, who lived about a half a mile farther on. James,
unwilling to return home without it, resolved, notwithstand
ing tlie lateness of the hour, to continue on to the black
smith's.
It was quite dark when he arrived, but he soo r . made
his business known, and was informed by Mrs. R ,
that ‘‘little sis got hold of tho paper, and tore it all up.’’
“ I’ll Like the fragments,” said James, who was for hav
ing nothing lost.
“The fragments, Jim!” exclaimed Mrs. R , “Old
Donk, tlie pedlar, came along herV to-day, and I sold ‘em
with the paper rags.”
•James, somewhat dispirited by his unsuccessful mission,
and not being very courageous in the dark, silently beat a
hasty retreat for home, where, in due season, he arrived, and
reported the result of his errand.
“ Ah,” very composedly, remarked Mr- C— ‘“I
suppose R askeff neighbor N to lend him the
paper, and he did not like ta deny him. We cannot, I think,
justly accuse either of doing intentional wrong; and one pa
per,” continued he, “is of little value.”
“ You m*y argue N‘s case as you please,” replied!
Mrs. C , “but be assured of one thing.”
“What is that ?” asked Mr C -, with evident fear.
“Not!ling, only neighbor N will not long be at the
inconvenience of trotrf#ng people for old papers.”
I about three weeks alter this conversation, N was
in Ra ined by the postmaster, that he had a paper in the of
fice. lie was highly pleased at the announcement, but he could
not think who was so very kind as to send him the paper.
After many conjecture*, however, ho came to the couclu
smi that h was soon.- friend whom he had assisted in for
mer years.
One year had passed : the paper continued to come, and
N was still ignorant whence they came; Wt be
tng one day at ‘‘dmlykMvg,’’ he informed his neighbors of his
good fortune, and expressed some fear that he should have
to do without a paper six -d.
“No Tom won’t,” said dames C , in a loud tone of
voice ; “ for mother sent on two dollars more for you, fast
week.”
“Well done dim!” shooter! down voices, while a sinv
vritaneous rtmr of laughter rang along the line of teamsters.
N , who had, previous to this announcement, been
remarkably cheerful and talkative, became suddenly silent,
while deep red color, the emblem of shame, mantled his
brow. This was a goxl lesson for N . Early the next
morning, he went and paid Mrs. O—— the four dollars, ac
knowledged liis error, and was never after known to take
less than two weekly papers. —Maine Farmer.
Fallacies of iftc Gentlemen.
bt a lady who knows them too well.
That women are only born to bo their slaves,
That dinner is to be ready for them the very moment they
come into tin* house.
That a ladies’ bonnet can bo put on as quick as a gentle
man's hat.
’ That we ran dress in a minute, and that ringing the bell
violently, hits the effect of making us dress one bit the quick
er.
That they can do every thing so nwb better than wo can,
from nursing the baby down to poking the fisc.
That they are .“ the lords of creation ’’-—{pretty lords, in
deed L)
That nothing m bo too good for them; for 1 am sure if you
were to put a hot joint beforo them every day, still they would
be dissatisfied, and would be grumbling that you never gave
them cold meat.
Tlutt they know our age so much better than we do our
selves. (it’s so very likely.)
That tin y may invite whom and as many as they please—
but if wo only in vite our mams to cotoe and stop with us, or
justask a dear unmarried sister or two to come and stop with
us for u mouth, that there's to be no peace for us as king as
they remain in the house.
That music can be learnt without practising, and that it is
necessary for them to rush out and to slam the door violently
the very moment we begin to open our voices, or to run ovea
the last new polka. ,
Tliat Sleeping after dinner promotes conversation.
l' u aey know what dress and bonnet becomes us better
.} ve do.
That it is necessary to make jwor woman cry, because* stu
pid sh wbutton happens to be off. I declare some men must
beliivo.fliat their wives cut of their shirt-buttons purposely,
from the savage pleasure they take in abusing them for it.
Tliat we are not allowed to faint, or to have the smallest
fit of hysterics, without being told “ not to make a fool of
ourselves.’’
That housekeeping docs not require any money, and if we
venture to ask for any, that it is to be met with all kinds of
black looks and insinuations as to ‘‘what wo can do with it
all,” or very agreeably to bo told that we will be “the ruin of
him some day.”—(l should like to see the day.)
That the bouse never requires cleaning, or the tables rub
bing, or the carpets beating, or the furniture renewing, or the
sofas fresh covers, or, in fact, that anything lias a right to
wear out, or to be spoilt or broken, and in short everything
ought to last forever. #
That a poor woman is never to have any pleasure, but al
ways, always, to stop at home, and “mind the children.”—
(I’m tired of such nonsense.)
That the wish to goto the opera is to boa sure prelude to
a quarrel.
That their daughters can learn music, painting, playing,
dancing, and all the accomplishments, without the aid of a
single master.
That the expenses of one’s household do not increase with
wxiiin i 1 ifc* 1 ak-tun children can be supported
ones family, but
for the same cost as one. “"-’’-i.
That no husband is perfect, like Hercules, without his ciuu,
aud that the less a wife sees of her husband, the fonder she
actually grows of him.
That it is a pleasure for us to sit up for them.
[Our fair correspondent says she thinks the above fallacies
are enough for the present, and we certainly agree with her;
but if the gentlemen show any more of their airs, she declares
she will give them a lot more.] — Punch.
The Foundling.
A Mrs. Esther Stansbury, (residing in a court running in
to llncc street below Sixth,) was about to bring a bucket of
water front the hydrant last night,—she found an old basket
suspended front the knob of her front door. Putting her
hand into the basket, she felt something alive and
but so enveloped in rags, that no further discovery could be
made without unwrapping the object. A piece of paper fold
ed like a letter, lay by the side of the animated bundle. Mrs.
Stansbury immediately turned into the house, and by the
light of the lamp, examined the billet. It was addressed to
her husband. She tremulously broke the seal and read os
follows:
To Jot Stansbury.
8m, —I send you the baby, which you will please to tako
good care of and bring up right, so that it may turn out to be
a better man than its daddy. Oh ! Joseph! what a sly old
rake you are!—who would think that aueh a staid, sober old
spindle shanks could be such a tearing down sinner ? The
child is yours. You may swear to that. Look at it; —it is
Joe Stansbury all over. You deceived me shamefully, Jo
seph,—letting on to be a widower—but do a father’s part to
wards the young one, and I’ll forgive you.
Your broken-hearted Nanct.
P. S. Don't let that sharp-nosed wife of yours see th>j let
ter. Gammon her with some kind of a story about the baby.
N.
Mr. Stansbury was in th basement kitchen quietly eating
his supper, and little imagining what a storm was brewing
over his head. The door of the kitchen staircase was vio
leiuly thrown open, and Mrs. S's voice yelled out, “ Stansbu
ry, conic up here, you villain ; here’s a mess for youTha
astonished Stansbury hastily wiped his mouth and obeyed th®
summons. “ Don’t you want to see Nancy—the heart bro
ken Nancy ?” cried Mrs Stansbury, when her guilty hus
band had hobbled into the room. “Nancy!—what Naney’
that 7” said the sly old rogue, in well feigned perplexity.—
“ Why Nancy, the mother of that baby, that’s been hung up
at your door, Mr. Stansbury. Oh, you look mighty innocent
--but just read that letter, and then look into that itasket.—
Don’t be afraid, it won’t bite; it’s got no teeth, poor thing!
you’ll know it, for, as the hussy says, it’s just like you all
over. Please goodneda, PH expose you before everybody.
And in less than five)minutes, Mrs. Suasbury had collect
ed a room fuU f spectators, (half the inhabitants of the court)
NO. 49,