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VOL. 2. @S)$ For the Georgia Citizen. Thf Star Spaugled Banner. I have late’ received a heavy Gold Locket, con taining only a Daguerreotype of the Star Spangled Banner, and the following quotation : “ The Star Spangled Banner, O ! long may it wave O’er the land of the free, And the home of the brave !” “ From an American Girl. ’’ To thee, unknown, nobly generous and kind lady, is due more than my humble pen can contribute. Words faint on the lips when the heart would speak. Beneath that ever dear, ever remembered and sacred flag, I could die “ with a curl on my lip, a smile on my brow, ” and content in my heart. 1 cannot, fair, kind lady, reply appropriately, in poetic terms ; but in my hasty aud uncouth manner, please accept the following : To the Unknown. WRITTEN IMPROMPTU, BV 1. W. CLIFFORD, V. S. A. Welcome! welcome! proud banner ! To my heart's inmost core ; For thy folds shall enshroud me, When low in the grave. Then down, down with the traitor. And up, up with the flag ! I would that this banner Might wave o’er the land, Where foes have oppress’d it, Yet long may it stand. Then down, down with tho traitor, And up, up with the flag 1 That flag of all freemen, That it ever may wave “ O’er the land of the free, And the home of the brave. ” Then down, down with the traitor ! And up, up with the flag! And that Star Spangled Banner, The pride of the free, To the giver—a lady— A Iltaven’s passport be. Then down, down with the traitor! And up, up with the flag ! May its folds in death shroud me— Its laurels I crave ; For in Heaven’s broad mansions That banner may wave. Then down, down with the traitor ! And up, up with the flag ! A Burlesque oil “Ins and Outs.” BY A WEST POINT CADET, U. S. M. A. I'm out of humor, in apet — I know not what to do ; 1 think I’ll take my pen and try To write a line or two. I’m out of money, and have been so For a week or more, Which works my spirits down so low— It makes my conscience sore. I’m out of credit at the store, And out of office too ; And tlio’ I once was drest in black, I now am drest in blue. I’m out the dreary Guard House , too, To me it’s no regret. I wish me out of something else, And that is—out of debt! Besides, I’m deeply plunged in love , In fear, too, and in doubt— Which is the greatest trouble now, Os being in and out ? I’m out of patience, and I'm out Os more than I can think ; I’m out of paper, lost my sword ; I’m out—l’m out —of ink. The Farmer’s Boy. BT FRANCIS D. GAGE. O, a jovial farmer’s boy I’ll be, As fresh as the birds that sing, And earrol my merry song of glee Among the flowers of spring. With a whoop who boy, to drive my team Before the rising sun, “To slake their thirst in a silvery stream Shall be my morning’s fun; — To see the hungry porker fed, And hear him grunt his thanks ; To rouse the calves from their grassy bed, So shake their drowsy flanks: To draw from the generous cow her store, With young hands strong and tree, Till the briminiug pale is ruuuing o’er With the foaming luxury ; To haste to the garden with hoe and seed While the dew is on the spray, To plant, to trim, to hoc and weed The morning hours away, To raise the flowers for the honey bee. With their petals bright and fair : O, I love the budding flowers to see, 1 In my garden here and there; — Or away to the fields with the reapers hie, And toil the livelong day, And think of the happy tune when I Shall be a man as they, To plow, to borrow, to plant, to sow The rich and fertile lands; To reap aud bind, to pitch and mow, With strong and willing hands. O, I would not live in the crowded town, With its pavements hard and gray, With lengthened streets of dusty brown, And its painted houses gay— Where every boy his ball may bound Upon his neighbor's dome, And every shout and every sound Disturbs some other’s home. The squirrel that leaps from limb to limb, In the forest waving high, Or the lark that soars with his matin hymn, Is not more free than I. Then give me the trade of a farmer boy, From city trammels free, And I’ll crack my whip,and cry, ‘W ho boy!’ Oh, a farmer boy I’ll be! China Tree. —Who ever thinks here’ of the value of the China tree ? Were this tree to grow and flourish at the North as it does here, our cabinet shops would be filled with furniture manufactured from its wood, recom mended by its beauty, and the remarksb-e quality it possesses of being proof against a har bor lor insects; (how invaluable for bedsteads;) our drug stores would be filled with vermifuge and panaceas, made from the roots, leaves and berries, and our cosmetics perfumed with its Rowers, Story of a kiss. BY FREDERIKA BREMER. In the University ofUpsala, in Sweden,lived a young student —a lonely youth, with a great love for studies, but without means of pursu ing them. He was poor, and without connec tions. Still he studied on, living in great pov erty, but keeping up a cheerful heart and try ing not to look at the future, which looked so grimly at him. His good humor and good qualities made him beloved by his young com rades. Once he was standing with some of them in the great square of Upsala, prating away an hour of leisure, when the attention of the young men became arrested by a young and very elegant lady, who, at the side of an elderly one, walked slowly over the place. It was the daughter of the Governor of Upland, residing in the city, the lady with her was her governess. She was known for her beauty, and tor her goodness and gentleness of character, and looked upon with great admiration by the students. As the young men now stood silent ly gazing at her, as she passed on like a grace ful vision, one of them exclaimed : “ Well, it would be worth something to have a kiss from such a mouth !” The poor young student, the hero of our story, who was looking intently at that pure and angelic face, exclaimed, as by inspiration, “ Well, I think I could have it.” “What!” cried his friends in a chorus, “are you crazy? Do you know her?” etc. “ Not at all,’’ he answered ; ‘but 1 think she would kiss me, just now, if I asked her.” “In this place, before our eyes ?” “ Freely ?” “Freely.” “ Well, if she will give you a kiss in that man ner, I will give you a thousand dollars !” ex claimed one of the party. “And I!” “And Icried three or four others, for it so happen ed that several rich young men were in the group, and bets ran high on so improbable an event,and the challenge was made and received in less time than we take to relate it. Our hero—my authority tells not whether he was handsome or plain —I have my peculiar reasons for believing that he was rather plain, singularly good-looking at the same time —our hero immediately walked oft’ to meet the young lady. He bowed to her and said.— “ My lady, my fortune is in your hands.” She looked at him in astonishment, but arres ted her steps. He proceeded to state his name and condition, his aspirations, and related simply and truly what just had passed between him and his companions. The young lady listened attentively, and when he had ceased to speak,she said, blushing, but with great sweetness : “ If by so little a thing so much good could be affected, it would be very foolish in me to refuse your request”—and she kissed the young man publicly, in the open square. Next day, the young student was sent for by the Governor. He wanted to see the man who'had’ dared to ask a kiss of his daughter in that way, and whom she had consented to kiss so. He received him with a severe and scru tinizing brow, but, after an hour’s conversation, was so pleased with him that he invited him to dine at his table, during the course of his studies in Upsala, Our young friend pursued his studies in a manner which soon made him regarded as the most promising scholar of the University.— Three years were not passed after the day of the first kiss,when the young man was allowed to give a second one to the lovely daughter of the Governor, as his betrothed bride. He became, later, one of the greatest schol ars in Sweden, as much respected for his learn ing as for his character. His works will endure for ever among the works of science, and from his happy uniou sprung a family well known in Sweden in the present day, and whose wealth of fortune, and high position in society are regarded as small things, compared with its wealth of goodness and love. Home Affections. —The heart has affections that never die. The rough rubs of the-world cannot obliter ate them. They are the memories of home—early home. There is a magic sound. There is the old tree under which the light-hearted boy swung many a day ; yonder is the river in which he learned to swim—there the house in which he knew a parent’s protection nay, there the room in which he romped with brother and sister,long since, alas! laid in the yard in which he must soon be gathered, overshadowed by yon old church, whither with a joyous troop like himself, he had often followed his parents to worship with, and hear the good old man who ministered at the altar. Why, even the very school-house, associated in youth ful days with thoughts of tasks, now comes to bring pleasant remembrances of many occasions that call forth some generous exhibitions of noble traits of human na ture. There is where he learned to feel some of his first emotions. There, perchance, he first met the be ing who, by her love and tenderness in life, has made a home for himself happier than that which childhood had known. There are certain feelings of humanity, and those, too, among the best, that can find an appropri ate place for their exercise only at “one’s own fireside, ’inere is a privacy of that which it was a species of des ecration to violate. He who seeks wantonly to invade it, is neither more or less than a villian; and hence there exists no surer test of the debasement of morals in a community, than the disposition to tolerate in any mode, the man who invades the sanctity of private life. In the turmoil of the world, let there be at least one spot where the poor man may find affections and confidence which are not to be abused. Female Education. —There are a few common phrases in circulation, respecting the duties of wo men, to which we wish to pay some degree of atten tion, because they are rather inimical to those opinions which we have advanced on the subject. Indeed, in dependently of this, there is nothing which requires more vigilance than the current phrases of the day, of which there are always some resorted to iti every dis pute, and from the sovereign authority of which it is of ten vain to make any appeal. “ The true theatre for a woman is the sick chamber ;” —Nothing so honorable to a woman as not to be spoken of at all.” Ihese two phrases, the delight of Noodledom, are grown into common-places upon the subject; and are not unfre quently employed to extinguish that love of knowledge in woman, which, in our humble opinion, it is of so much importance to cherish. Nothing certainly is so ornamental and delightful in women as the benevolent virtues: but time cannot be filled up, and lile employ ed, with high and impassioned virtues. Some of these feelings are of rare occurrence—all of short duration— >r nature would sink under them. A scene of dis tress and anguish is an occassion where the finest qual ities of the female mind may be displayed; but is it mon strous exaggeration to tell women that they are born only for scenes of distress and anguish. Nurse, father, mother, sister and brother, if they want it; —it wonld he a violation of thw plainest duties to neglect them, t “ ‘Jnlirfmiknt in nil fjjings —lira tail in notjjing.” MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 20, 1851. But, when we are talking of the common occupations of life, do not let us mistake the accidents for the occu pations ;—when we are arguing how the twenty-three hours of the day are to be filled up, it is idle to tell us of those feelings and agitations above the level of common existence, which may employ the remaining hour. Compassion, and every other virtue are the great objects we all ought to have in view, but no man and (no woman) can fill up the twenty-four hours bv acts of virtue. But one is a lawyer, and the other a plough man and the third a merchant , and then acts of good ness, End intervals of compassion and feeling, are scat tered up and down the common occupations of life. We know women are to be compassionate ; but they can not be compassionate from eight o’clock in the morning till twelve at night; and what are they to do in the in terval ? This is the only question we have been putting all along, and is all that can be meant by literary educa tion. [Sidney Smith. YVe find the following paragraph going the rounds of the papers. It purports to be ah extract from Mrs. Ellis’s Lectures. It wouldn't sound well if spoken in a fashionable drawing room. The Future Wives of England. —My pretty lit tle dears, you are no more fit for matrimony than a dueklet is to look after a family of fourteen chickens. The truth is, my dear girls, you want, geneally speak ing, more liberty and less fashionable restraint; more kitchen and less parlor ; more leg exercise and less so- fa; more making puddings and less piano*, more frank ness and less mock modesty ; more breakfast and less hustle. I like the buxom, blight eyed, rosy cheeked, full breasted, bouncing lass, who can darn stockings, make her own frocks, mend trousers, command a regi ment of pots and kettles, milk the cows, feed the pigs, chop wood, and shoot a wild duck, as well as the Duch ess of Marlborough, or the Queen of Spain, and be a lady withal in the drawing room. But as for your pi ning, moping; wasp waisted, putty faced, music murder ing, novel devouring daughters of fashion and idleness, with your consumption soled shoes, silk stockings and calico shifts, you wont do for the future wives and mo thers of England. YY estern Grandiloquf.nce. —We do not believe the following has ever seen the light. It is given from memory : A ease occurred in some western court, in which the issue was an assualt with intent to kill. The judicial record states the names of the parties as being McFad den vs. Baile. A brother of the plaintiff, wljo seems to have had a vein of humor strangely co-mingling with his king cambyses jugular, being qualified, was reques ted by the council for the defendant to state what he knew of the case; whereupon, with a ludiero-inajestico air, he began as follows : “ Gentlemen us the grand jury.’’ “ This is not the grand jury, Mr. McFadden,” in terposed his honor. “Quite immaterial, Judge—Gentlemen of the jury, a difficulty ensued (!) between my brother and this gentleman, some six months ago. I tried upon several occasions to see if I could bring about a reconciliation ; but, gentlemen of the jury, it seems it could not be done. And a few days since the two parties met in the load, aud a difficulty ensued. My brother prepared’ for battle by dismounting from his horse and picking up a rock in his hand. The other gentleman drew a bow ie knife deliberately from his side and came at my bro ther in a menacing manner and a carving attitude. My brother displayed great generalship, by retreating in good order—that is, (aside to his honor,) by running liked—nation.” “What was the remoteness of your position,” ex claimed the council for the defendant, mimicking Mr. McFadden’s liigh-falutin, “from the two parlies, when this difficulty ensued?’' 1 “ How came you to know the distance so exactly ?” asked the attorney. ‘‘Because’ sir,” said McFadden, “I supposed some darned fool,like yourself, sir, would ask me tho question sir, and I took the pains to measure if, sir!” And having spoken thus, the dignified deponent left the stand, and strutted out of court with an air of majes tic independence, only pausing to wave a graceful adieu to the court, and to say, “Yours with due respect and high consideration, Gustavus, Adolphus McFadden.”— (S. C.) Advertiser. “I Can.” —Of course you can. You show it in your looks, in your motion, your speech, in your every thing. lean! A brave, hear ty, subtantial, soulful, manly, cheering expres sion. v There is character, force, vigor, deter mination, will, in it. YVe like it. The words have a spirit, sparkle, pungency, flavor, gen iality about them which takes one in the very right place. I can!—There is a world of meaning expressed nailed down, epigrarnized, rammed into these few letters. Whole sermons of solid-ground virtues. How we more than admire to hear the young man speak it out bravely, boldly, de terminedly ; though it was an outsearching of his entire nature, a reflection of his inner soul. It tells of something that is earnest, sober, se rious ; something that will battle the race, and tumble with the world in a way that will open and brighten and mellow men’s eyes. I can ! YVhat spirit, purpose, intensity, real ity, power and praise. It is a strong arm, a stout heart, a bold eye, a firm port, and an in domitable will. We never knew a man pos sessed of its energy, vitality, fire, and light, that did not attain eminence of some sort. It could not be otherwise. It is in the nature, consti tution, order, necessily, inevitability of events, that it should be so. I can! rightly, truly said, and then clinched and riveted by the manly, heroic, determined deed, is the secret solution, philosophy, of mens’ lives. They took 1 can fora motto, and went forth and steadily made themselves and the world what they pleased. Then, young man, if you would be some thing beside a common, dusty, prosy, wayfarer in life, just put these magic words upon your lips, and their musing, hopeful, expanding phi losophy in your hearts and arms. Do it, and you are a made man. Adulteration —Things have come to such a pass in commerce, that no man knows what he buys, or sells, or consumes. Every article capable of adultera tion is made a cheat. Your wine is nearly all spurious; your brandy is colored whiskey; your tea is mixed With sloe leaves, and colored blue by poisonous dies ; your ground coffee is mixed with peas and chicory; your tobacco is made of mullen, oak and cabbage leaf; your beer is drugged with ooculus indicus ; your bread is made with alum, soap, lard, potash and plaster of Paris; your salt is stone; your sugar is sand ; your groun spices are anything that comes handy ; your chocolate is starch; your olive oil comes fresh from the swine mills of Cincinnati ; your vinegar is sulphuric acid; your meat is blown up to make it look fat; your sausages are made of—no matter what; your medicines, accordingHo the statements of the best druggists in New York, are adulterated and falsified ; your ising glass is two thirds gelatin, from the glue factories; your silk and woolen are mixed with cotton ; in short, there is not an article in which you can be cheated, xvhioh I Commerce has not adulterated. llow infamous, how shameful is this ? What a wholesale robbery of the community ! YV hat a depriva tion of the moral sense ! Is there no way by which those multitudinous and pervading frauds can be pre vented, or do they belong to the commercial system, as its outgrowth and natural consequences ?—Sunday Mercury. The Science of Going to Bed.— The earth is a magnet, with magnetic currents constantly playing around it. The human body is also a magnet, and when a body is placed in certain relations to the earth, these currents harmonize : when in any other position they conflict. YVhen one position is to be maintained for some time, a position should be chosen in which the magnetic enrrents of the earth and the body will not conflict. This position ds indicated by theory and known by experin ;Vlt, is l 6 lie with tho head towards the North pole. Persons sleep with their heads in the opposite direction, or lying cross-wise, or liable to fall into various nervous disorders. When they go back to the right position, these disorders, if not too deeply impressed upon the constitution, soon vanish. Sensitive persons are always more refreshed by sleep when their heads point duo north. Architects, in planning houses, should bear this principle in mind.— Mercury. Revolutionary Reminiscence. —lt stirs one’s blood, in these latter days, to read the speeches and the records of the actions of those who lived in the days of the revolution. YY’hen the news of the fall of Ticonderoga, reached the capital of New Hampshire, John Langdon, who was speaker of the Provincial Legislature, seeing the public credit exhausted, and his friends discouraged rose and said : “ I have S3OOO hard money, I will pledge my plate lor S3OOO more. I have seventy hogsheads of Tobago rum, which shall be sold for the highest it will bring. These are at the service ofthe State. If wo succeed in de tending our firesides and homes I may be remunerated. If we do not, the property will be of no value. Our old friend Starke, who so nobly maintained the honor of our State at Bunker Hill, may safely be entrusted with the conduct ot the enterprise, and we will check the progress of Burgoyne.” Those were tho days of patriotism ! The offer was accepted, the money was paid, the plate hypothecated, the rum converted into cash. A corps of mountaineers was soon rais ed and placed under the command of Starke. YVhen he came in sight ofthe enemy at Benning ton, he said : “ Buys, there are the Red Coats. YV e must beat them, or this night Molly Starke will be a widow !” He did beat them. The tide of war was turned—the firesides and the hearths of our fathers preserved ; but whether old John Langdon ever got back his plate, ex cept in continental rags, we do not know. There are many who lost everything in the ser vice of their country, made advances and sacri ficed estates, whose descendants are poor. Shout Dresses.— Zirs. editor of the Lily, has adopted this j‘ dress and trowsers,” and says in \ fr pa|Mf|sthis month, that many ofthe women‘in that praoe, {Seneca Falls,) oppose the change ; others laugh ; oth ers still are in favor ; “and many have already adopted the dress.” She closes the article upon the subject as follows : “ Those who think we look ‘auEii,’ would do well to look back a few years to the time when they wore ten or fifteen pounds of petti coat and bustle around tlie body, and bal loons on their arms and then imagine which cut the queerest figure, they or we, YVe care not for the frowns ot over fastidious gentlemen : we have those of better taste and less question able morals to sustain us. If men think they would be comfortable in long, heavy skirts, let them put them on—we have no objection. YVe are more comfortable withoutthem, and so have left them oti. YY’e do not say we shall wear this dress and no other, hut we shall wear it for a common dress ; and we hope it may become so fashionable that we may wear it at all times, and in ali places, without being thought singu lar. YV e have already become so attached to it that we dislike changing to a long one.” Misplaced Confidence. — YVe may have published the following rich story before—we may have published it twice—we are not sure : but we are confident that any one who has read it will thank us for giving it again. It origiually appeared, under the head of “Mis placed Confidence,” in the N. Y. Evening Rost: Jones is in general a good husband and a domestic man. Occassionally, however, his convivial tastes betray him into excesses which have subjected him more than once to the dis cipline ol Mrs. Jones. A few nights since he was invited to “ participate’’ with a few friends at Florence’s by way ol celebrating a piece ol good luck which had befallen one ol his neigh bors. He did “*■ participate,” and to his utter astonishment, when he rose to take his leave, at the “ wee short hour ayont the twal,” he found the largest brick in his hat he ever saw. Indeed, he was heard to remark soliloquently, “1 think Mr. Jones, you were never quite so tight before.” lie reached his home finally, but by a route which was anything but the shortest distance between points, not, however, without having experienced very considerable anxiety about the reception which awaited him from Mrs. Jones, lie was in luck that night, was Mr. Jones, bearing always his primal transgression; he got into his house, foond his way into his chamber without “ waking a creature not even a mouse.” After closing his door, he cau tiously paused, to give thanks for the “ con science unde tiled ’ which secured to Mrs. Jones the sound and refreshing slumbers which had prevented her taking notice of his arrival. Be ing satisfied that all was right, he proceeded to remove his integuments with as much despatch and quiet as circumstances would permit, and in the course ol time sought the vacant place beside his slumbering consort. Alter resting a moment, and congratulating himself that he was in bed, and that his wife did not know how long he had been there, it occurred to him that it lie did not change his position Mrs. Jones might detect Irom his breath that he had been indulging. To prevent such a catastrophe, he resolved to turn over. He had about half ac complished his purpose—we are now oblig'd to use the idiomatic language of Mr. Jones himself, from whom we receive this chapter of his domestic trials-—“ when Mrs. Jones riz right up in the bed, and said she, in tones that scraped the marrow all out of my bones, said she, ‘Jones you needn’t turn over, you’re DRUNK CLEAN THROUGH !” It may be interesting to the friends of Madeira wine to know that the friend of cold water, Rev. T. P. Hunt, of YVyoming, Penn., says that the ‘nutty flavor’ for which Madeira wine is admired, is imparted by cockroaches, which are put into the liquor and dissolved by it.—Pleasant very ! Deacon Smith’s Bull, OR MIKE FINK IN A TIGHT PLACE. Mike Fink, a notorious Buckeye hunter, was contemporary with the celebrated Davy Crock ett, and his equal in all things appertaining to human prowess. It was even said that the an imals in his neighborhood knew the crack of his rifle, and would take to (heir secret hiding places on the first intimation that Mike was about. Yet strange though true, he was but little known beyond his immediate ‘settlement.’ YY’hen we knew him, he was an old man— the blasts of seventy winters had silvered o’er his head and taken the elasticity from his limbs; yet in the whole of his life was Mike never worsted, except on one occasion. To use his own language, he never ‘gin in, used up, to anything that travelled on two legs or four, but once.’ ‘That once we want,’ said Bill Slasher as some dozen of us sat in the bar room of the on ly tavern of the settlement. ‘Gin it to us now, Mike—you’ve promised long enough, and you’re old now, and needn’t care,’ continued Bill. ‘Right, right! Bill,’ said Mike, ‘but we’ll open with a ticker all round fust, it’ll kind o’ save my feelin’s, I reckon— ’ ‘Thar, that’s good. Better than t’other bar rel, if anything!’ ‘YVell, boys,’ continued Mike, ‘you may talk o’ your scrimmages, tight places and sich like, and subtract ’em altogether in one all-mighty big ’un, and they ha iu’t no more to be compared to the one 1 war in, than a dead kitten to a she bar! I’ve fout all kinds o’ varmints, from an Ingin down to a rattlesnake ! and never was will’n to quit fust, but this once—and ’twas with a bull! ‘You see, boys, it was an awful hot day in August, and I war nigh runnin’off into pure He, when I war thinkiii’ that a dip in the creek mout save me. YVell, thar was a mighty nice place in Deacon Smith’s medder for that par tic’iar bizzinesa. So 1 went down among the bushes to unharness. I jist hauled the old red shirt over my head and war thinkin’ how scrumptious a feller of my size would feel wal lerin’ round in that ar water, and war jest ’bout goin’ in, when I seed the old Deacon’s Bull a makiu’ a B line to whar I stood.’ ‘I knowed the old cuss, for he’d sheared more people than ali the parsons ’o the settlement, and cum mighty nigh kii’n a few. Thinks I, Mike you’re iu rather a tight place—get your iixin’s on, tor he’ll be a driviu’ them big horns o’ his in yer bowels afore that time ! YY’ell you’ll hev to try the old varmint naked, I rec’n. ‘The bull war on one side o’ the creek and I on t’other, and the way he made the sile fly fora while, us if he war a diggin’ my grave was distressin ! ‘Come on ye bellerin old heathen, said I, and don’t be standin’ thar; for, as the old Dea con says o’ the devil, ‘yer not comely to look on. ‘This kind o’ reached his understandin and made him look more vishious; for he hoofed a little like, and made a drive. As I don’t like to stand in anybody’s way, I gin him plenty sea-room! So he kind o’passsd by me and come out on t’other side; and as the Captain o’ the Mud Swamp Rangers would say ‘’bout face for ’nother charge,’ ‘Though I war ready for ’im this time he come mighty nigh runnin’ foul o’ me ! So I made up my mind the next time he went out he wouldn’t be alone. So when he passed, I grappled his tail, and he pulled me out on the sile, and as we war both on the bank old brin dle stopped and war coinin’ round agin when I begin puilin the other way. ‘YVell, this kind o’ riled him, for he fust stood stock still and looked at me for a spell, and then commenced pavvin and bellerin’, and the way he made his hind gearin’ play in the air war beautiful! ‘But it warn’t no u?e, lie couldn’t tetch me so he kind o’ stopped to git wind for sumthin devilish, as I judged by the way he started ! By this time l had made up my mind to stick to his tail as long as it stuck to his backbone !--- I didn't like to holler for help, nuther, kase it war agin my principle, aud then the Deacon had preachin at his house, and it warnt far off nuther. I knowed if he hearn the noise, the hull con gregation would come down, and as I warn’t a married man, and had a kind of hankerin’af ter a gal that war thar, I didn’t feel as if I would like to be seen in that predicament. ‘So, says I, old sarpint, do yer cussedest ! Aud so he did; for he drug me over every bri er and stump in the field, til I war sweatin’ and bleedin like a fat bar with a pack o’ hounds at his heels. Aud my name ain’t Mike Fink if the old crittur’s tail and I didn’t blowout sometimes at a dead level with the varmints’ back! ‘So you may kalkilate we made good time. Bimeby lie slackened a little, then 1 had ’im for a spell, for I jist drapped behind a stump and thar snubbed the critter! Now, says 1, you’ll pull up this ’ere white oak—break yer tail ! or jest hold on a bit while 1 blow ! ‘YVell, while 1 war settin thar, an idea struck me that I had better b“ a gittin out o’ this in some way. But how, adzackly war the pin*! If I let go and run he’d he foul o’ me shore ! ‘So lookin’ at the matter in all its bearin’s, I cum to the conclusion that I’d better know whar I was! So I gin a yell louder than a locomotive whistle, and it warn’t long before I seed the Deacon’s two dogs a comin down like as if they war seein which could get there fust. ‘1 know’d who they war alter—they’d jine the Bull agin me. I war sartin, for they war orful wenomous and they had a spite agin me. ‘So, says I, old brindle, as ridin is as cheap as walkin on this rout, if you’ve no objection I’ll jest take a deck passage on that ar back o’ yourn ! So I wasn’t lot.g a gettin astride o’ him, and then if you'd a been thar, you’d V.ve sworn thar warn’t nothin human in that ar mix! the sile flew so orfully as the critter and I rol led round on the field —one dog on one side and another on t’other tiyin to clench my feet. ‘I pray’d and cuss’d, ahd cuss’d and pray’d till I couldn’t tell which I did last —and neither warn’t no use, they war so orfully mixt up. ‘YVell, I reckon I rid ’bout an hour this way when old brindle thought it was time to stop to take in a supply of wind and cool off a lit tle! So when he got round to a tree that stood thar, he nat rally haulted. ‘Now, sez I, old b’y you’ll loose one passen ger saitirr So I jestcluin upon a branch kal- 1 kilatin to roost there till I starved, afore I’d be rid round in that ar way any longer, ‘I war a makin tracks for the top o’ the tree when I heard sumthin makin an orful buzzin over my head, 1 kinder looked up and if there warn’t—well that’s no use o’sweatin’now, but it war the biggest hornet’s nest ever war built. ‘A off]] gin in now I recon, Mike, case thar is no help for you ! But an idea struck me, then, that I’d stand a heap better chance a ri din the bull than whar I war. Says I, ‘old fel ler, if you’ll hold on, I’ll ride to the next station anyhow, let that be whar it will! So jest drapped aboard him agin, and looked aloft to see what I’d gained iu changin quar ters; and gentlemen I’m a liar if that warn’t nigh half a bushel tfshe stingin varmints rea dy to pitch into me when the word ‘go’ was gin. ‘YVell, I reckon they got it, for ‘all hands’ started for our company ! Some on ’em hit the dogs—about a quart stuck me, and the rest charged on old brindle. ‘This time, the dogs led off fust, ‘dead bent’ for the old Deacon’s, and as soon as old brin dle and I could get under way, we followed [ And as I was the only deck passenger, an 1 had nothin to do with steerin the craft I swore if I had we shouldn’t run that Channel anyhow. ‘But, as I said afore, the dogs took the lead— brindle and I next and the dogs dire’ktly arter. The dogs yellin—brindle belierin, and the hornets buzzin and stingin ! I didn’t say noth in for it warn’t no use. ‘YY’ell, we’d got about two hundred yards trom the house, and the Deacon hearn us and cum out, I seed him hold up his hand turn white! I reokoned he was prayin then, for be didn’t expect to be called for so soon, and it warn’t long, ni>her, afore the hull congregation, men, women and children, cum out and all went to yellin ! None of them had the fust notion that brin dle and 1 belonged to this world. I jist turned my head and passed the hull congregation ! I seed the run would be up soon, for brindle couldn’t turn an inch from a fence that stood dead a head ! YVell, we reached that fence, and I went ashore, over the critter’s head, landin on t’o ther side, and lay there stunned. It wan’t long before some of ’em as warn’t so scared, cum round to see what I war. For all hands thought I and the bull belonged together! But when brindle walked off by himself they seed how it war and one on ’em said, ‘Mike Fink has got the wust of a scrimmage once in his life !’ •Gentlemen, from that day I dropped the curtain bizziness, and never spoke to a gal since. And when my hunt is up on this yerth thar won’t be any more Finks ! and it is all owin to Deacon Smith’s Old Brindle Bull. mammtammmmmm — b— ———^ CorrrajjimiitHff. LETTER FRO.TI COLIUBIS. Columbus, Ga., April 16,1851. Dear Doctor: —lt lias been my desire to give you the dots of our city for some time, but business has pressed me so much I have hardly had opporluuities. But things have come to such a crisis, that it becomes a boundeu duty to let the “ Citizen f ’ know. This place is not changed since you resided amongst us. At any time, you will recollect, we were always ready for I a humbug, and embraced it with a zeal only equalled by the speciousness of its pretensions. YY e hold our own remarkably well. “ The ass knoweth its owner ’’ —certainly we acknowledge ours. YY e are a strange people—always desiring something novel, cupidi no varum rerum. And the consequence is, myriads of cheats and impositions come upon us in the form of Bi ology, Psychology, and such like prostituted names, of , which were to attempt an enumeration, the nine digits j would stand aghast. It is true, that we pay more for ; being deceived, tricked, bamboozled and swindled, and j are more passive under it than any people of the same number beneath the sun. About the 18th March, we were by a con- I cern, a walking biped without any feathers, having a sleek and sweet-scented head, and a squiut eye, and other organs common to the human species. YY here he eatne from, we do not know ; but he says from New Orleans, and calls himself Professor Hale. Perhaps it does hale from there, but God grant another lump shall not strike this place! Biology is his profession, and among the many wonders, he professes to be “ a remedial agent, ” and to expel disease front its mountain fast nesses, and light up the sinking system with light and loveliness. This he has yet to prove. Boquet-ology we prefer to call his scienee, for that is one of the or naments continually dangling from his breast, or held in his paw. He came here—but how he came we do not know ; but we found hi in, like we find green frogs sometimes immediately after a rain, lie came, and, like Caesar after the battle of Pharsalia, he could say, Vcni.vidi, vici; but to express it in these words, would kill him. Yes, sir, every body and his wife went to see him mesmerize, and then wonder and praise. He didn’t - lack for subjects to make experiments upon, but anybody was willing to be nigger, fool, monkey, and see snakes just as he wished. Even the ladies be came subjects. They felt there was virtue in him, and they must touch his garment, if that only. One family is taken in iu for the whole- amount, aud the bead is conspicuously on the stage, assisting in wonderful and mysterious manipulations. The oldest hopeful biddy of the brood, I understand, takes a tour with this new found prodigy. He is far into the arcana of this start ling science, and is in earnest; for he had a letter read j from himself to the Professor, declaring to the audi dence that the amazing Experiments performed upon him were no cheats. I hope he may become learned in magic; certainly he deserves to know the mystic words of Prof. Ilale, for he has served him well— placing pantomime on every occasion. There are oth ers who merit much, for they have been “ punches of the puppet-show to speak as they were prompted by the chief juggler behind the curtains. ” But the ladies, sir, the ladies are the brewers of these things—they nurse theso new-found champions with a devotedness, that/if turned to almost any other source, would be highly commendable. I heard a man i of sense and experience once remark, that every woman was a fool. YY’hile I think the remark needs great j qualification, yet I must say, they have at times the happiest turn of rendering themselves extremely ridicu lous. I speak in point now of our ladies. I think, perhays, if this itinerant scientifiOi this peddler of hum buggery—this dealer in patent witchcraft—this bo quet-fed puppet —this “perfumed popinjay,” were in stalled as Solomon, our oity would be left “ a banquet ball deserted. ” And if we could be sure of import ing better stok, it would, I imagine, be a good idea to set him above law, and let him take them. They feast him, toast him, honey him, sugar him, invite him home with them ; levy on all the dainties of their dairies and pantries for him; atrip naked their flower-beds and green- hrrww, and when the be'iuct is made,n'ee!y nestle iu its charming bosom a sweet-scented little billetdoux, and post it oft - to the dear Professor Hale, who imme diately goes to his brother, Dr. Conger, and has them Daguerreotyped—for a nominal price, I presume ; or, judging from the number; it would break a Jew, even after a good fire in a city. There they are, ladies ol Columbus, memorials of your wandering,moon-stricken \ moments. 1 I never saw any thing equal to this thing in impu dence, possessed of human phiz. He eats with his bo quets by him, and alternately takes a mouthful of food and a smell of fiowers. What his beverage is, lam not informed ; but presume these same kind ladies ool lcct dew-drops from rose-buds for him! He has said publicly, that he was not dependent on Biology for a living. Evidently he means he is rich, and wants to marry. For, although he is wandering in his mind disposition, yet Junius says : 44 Marriage is point ofc which every rake is stationary at last. ’’ Some times the ladies make it convenient to meet him at Temperance Hall,and gentlemen entirely excluded.— Strange, that he can deprive our damsels of all maideu coyness ! What they do in the Hall, Ido not know ; but the next time you see Joe Brooks, a young man | “ of parts and pregnancy of wit, ” get him to tell you* and you'll be amused. Joe has been studying the sci ence forthe last two weeks, and I think in a few days will be able to give the citizens of this place general satisfaction in the way of an “ ology ” or an “ ism. ” Joseph, look around you, and see if you are still “ sound, ” and mind ye don’t “go for Polk by several ! majority I” And now, Doctor, who is this Professor Hale, so translated T He came among us like a night-weed.— l Who is this from the Queen City, dressed in purple and fine linen, with whom the ladies are so beside them i selves? A refuse of some crowd. A doorkeeper for a New Orleans Theatre. Some here have seen him there, they say. And why do we, and the ladies es pecially. take after such birds of passage ? A benevo lent object could not create the same sympathy ; a ser mon cannot attract such crowds. Sir, he now owes iu this city a poor and friendless printer boy twenty dol ; lars! He rides behind his fine span of bays. He has | visited here a house of no good fame. lam almost done with him. This little ir.ay make him think he is iof importance. Not him is it intended for especially, lie is too insignificant for contempt. If, when he goes away, and after, any gentleman or lady finds their ‘‘bed to be a bed of torture, they have made it for them selves. ” Vi’re la Humbug ! I cannot close this epistle without giving you some account of a Grand Fireman's and Military Ball which came oft’ in this city on the 10th inst., when the grand finale was made. It is useless for me to say to you, everybody attended. On the night of the 10th, just before the close, it was announced by the officiating Judge, M., that the amount necessary to pay the ex penses of the Grand S<*iree had not been received at the door, and that the Ball would be continued on Monday evening. According to appointment, the male portion of the city were there at an early hour, armed and equipped; but were Compelled to return home without the usual amusement of such occasions. But by the by, Doctor, they did not reach home. They ad journed to a very fashionable place known by the name I and style of *’ Pleasant House, ’’ and after obtaining some refreshments iu the way of brandy and water, the music struck up, and Cotilions w ere formed around the Billiard Table, and merrily went the dance until morn ing. Perhaps, Doctor, your are by this time anxious to know why the party (the original one I mean) proved to be a failure ? It was easily accounted for next morning by notices on the Bulletin Board, and at the corners of the streets, stating that Prof. Hale was ab sent from the city on professional business last evening, and could not be at the Ball. Whether “ midwifery ” or not, I don’t know, but I was better posted up than to believe that; for, on that night being attracted to the Oglethorpe by strains of music, I went over to see who would dare to strike a note in opposition to the “pro tracted” Ball. Guess my astonishment, when, on ar riving, I found the Professor had gathered the ladies of the city, and was having a kind of one-horse party for his own peculiar benefit. Trusting, dear Doctor, that if this famous animal passes your way, that you will give him a lift, I reman Yours, most respectfully, “RODRIGO.’’ LETTERS from THE YORTIf. NO. 10. Tontine Hotel, New Haven, April 5, 1851. Dear Doctor : —I left New York at three o'clock, and arrived in this city at six. Boston is called the Athens of America ; but this is not only a more intel lectual, but ten times a more beautiful city. The fact is, it is the most beautiful city in America. lam now writing in a room fronting the Elm-bordered Green, and immediately opposite the State House and Yale College. The State House is built after the manner of the Parthenon at Athens. It is a beautiful building, and remarkable for its architectural simplicity. Front ing the State House, and in the centre of the Green, are three very beautiful Churches, all of different styles of architecture. This Green is intersected in all directions by arid paths, which give it quite a pic turesque appearance—making it look something like Jacob's cattle. In the “ Centre Church, ”is a clock whose bell tolls the hours with cheering melodiousness. This Green, as it is called here, is the principal beauty of this beautiful city—bating the beautiful women,, who are nearer Angels than any thing else. On all the four sides of tliip Green are situated the most re markable buildings of the city, Yale College being on the \\ eat. Ps.jfessor SiUiman's house is on the North, but not on the street fronting the Green. The New Haven Hotel is situated on the South, and will be opeued on the loth of this month. It is a beautiful building, stuccoed on the outside, and will be a rival to the Tontine. It is situated on Chapel, the principal street of the city. I saw President Day in the street a few moments ago, who looked quite healthy for one of his age. Theodore Parker, the Abolition Infidel, is making speeches against the execution of the Fugitive Slave Law. So is the Rev. Mr. Colver. If Hell has two greater fallen angels iu it, the Devil sees hard times. Ihe owners have recently captured more fugitive slaves, and tnese two traitors are persuading the peo ple to resist the execution of the law. This beautiful city is, happily, free from any such rascality. It is eery well for it that it is so, for it is almost entirely supported by the South. The inhabitants are great friends to the Southern people. I reoonized several young students in the streets to-day from the South. The magnifacent aud stately Elms which border the path-intersected Green , are just beginning to bough out. in green buds I saw a man this morning belting them ; tar prevent the cattcrpillar from ascending them* and feeding on the leaves. These trees are looked upon here with as much veneration as the Oaks were by the Druids. They are very long-lived, and look quite magnificent when arranged in the cheering gar* ments of an emerald foliage. I have just returned from a visit to Hillhous’ place* which is situated in the Northern part of the city on a high kilL William S. Charnly, from Philadelphia, is bmiding an ootagonal briok bouse, to be stuccoed, on Temple street. It is not only a curiosity on the out side, having four or fiv* very fantastic Porticoes stand ing out of it all around—but of the most uncouth di mensions on the icsida, the Parlors and Bitting Rooms geingon the clrcirit.d the stairs jn tha centre. Tie NO. 4.