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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,