Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
&Sjs jpaiiX's ®p&m>
The Veteran’s Last W ords.
by park benjamin.
“Let the drums brat! iny knapsack is slung” Last
v rds of Get. Hugh Brady , trAo died recently at
Detroit. Mic/iiga t.
Let the drums beat! let the bruins beat!
lain ready! 1 am ready 1
Ready for the march with tireless feet
And a courage strong and steady.
I cannot do the acts of men
Whose arms and hearts are young.
Let the drums beat as in olden days
When, with Mad Anthony Wayne,
I dashed into the thickest frays
Os that glorious campaign—
Whose deeds shall deck our country’s page
Till time shall be no more—
Oh it stirs the blood of feeble age
To fi<dit such buttles o’er !
Let the drums beat with incessant roll
Like a fall of summer rain,
To tire each dull and sluggish soul,
As they did at Lundy’s Lane.
lam ready—to the onset!
Let the charge be sounded free—
Bravely were British fovonen iret
liy the sons of liberty.
Let the drums beat! lam ready,
Ready with my latest breath,
And h courage strong and steady
l'or the solemn strife of death.
I have never been found craven
When the call of buttle rung—
Ho ! for the march to llcaveu !
For my knapsack is slung.
To My W ifc.
To-day. nty dear, my eightieth year,
Ends on the wheel of time ;
This simple monument I rear ;
And make the token tliitie.
The past fond memory reviews •,
Its many scenes surveys ;
Childhood and youth it both renews,
And talks of early days.
When first we saw each other’s face,
Warm was affection’s fire ;
And memory now is pleased to traeo
Our well approved desire.
How little then to us was known,
Os what we since have seen!
From tender shoots strong trees have grown,
A ltd spread their branches green !
A circle large we now behold,
Os children old and young!
To us how precious is that fold.
Which front our union sprung!
Ilow much, my dear, we owe to Him,
Whose providential care’
Has us preserved ; and who lias been
Forever with us near!
With rapture and delight wc trace
That providence divine;
And laud the fulness of that grace,
Which does our hearts refine.
Oh may the remnant of our days,
Though they be less or more,
Be spent in wisdom’s peaceful ways,
Better than heretofore.
Hoska Ballou, aged 80.
Song of the Bank.
Work, work, work :
And stand at the desk all day j
Work, work, work!
And bid an adieu to all play ;
Work and be constantly driven ;
Wear tlit flesh front your bones and your face
The outsiders think banking is heaven,
But it's more like the opposite place.
* Count, count, count, and write I
Count money all day long ;
And in making your balance at night,
Have your cash come provokingly wrong;
Then look till your’e nervous and cross,
And hunt till you almost fear
You must charge it to ‘profit and loss,’
And at last find it on the Cashier.
Post and compare, and post!
Post and compare, and check 1
And work till you are almost
Os your former self a wreck ;
Post, and check, and compare !
Check, and compare, and foot!
Till your’e driven almost to despair,
By the work which upon you is put.
ledger, and Journal, and Cash,
And Blotter and Register, too— —
And the whole of that blue-edged trash.
Which it taki-s so long to write through.
1 wish they could all be turned back
To rags, real dirty, and rank,
And be stuffed down the mouth of that jack-
Ass who invented a Bank !
fcign, sign, sign!
And in nervous agony writhe
Till your’e forced at length to rest ti,
By ‘list boin-y old chap with a scythe.
Would you be a good banker? then work,
And commit neither error nor fault ;
Spend your days at a desk like a chrk,
And be lain, after death in a vault.
Work, work, work,
And stand at the desk all day ;
Work, work, work !
And hid adieu to all play ;
W ork. and bo constantly driven ;
M e r your flesh from your bones and your face.
The outsiders think hanking is heaven,
But it's more like the other place!
“~T~ llil llih iisii—s—■ Ilf ■■JS—!■■■■!—s
jKliatfllmgo
The Tea Rose.
BY MRS. H- L. BEECHER STOWE.
PART I.
There it stood in its little green vase, on a
ebony stand, in the window of the draw
ln2-room. The rich satin curtains, with their
c, *tlv fringes, swept down on either side of it,
around it glittered every rare and fanciful
rifle which wealth can offer to luxury, and yet
c. at s ’ m H e rose was the fairest of them all. —
to looked—its white leaves just touched
i~ l V' at delicious creamy tint, peculiar to its
’ , Us CU P so full, so perfect, its head bending
1 ‘ vere sinking and melting away in its
anlli- in .**** — when did man ever make
a 1 nn *? I,ke the living perfect flower!
uut the sunlight that streamed through the
revea l e( l something fairer than the rose.
intlmT ° n &n ottoman i ’ n a deep recess, and
engaged with a book, lay what seemed
the living counterpart of that tit lovely flower,
i'lie cheek so pale, so spiritual, the face so fu 1
of high thought, the fair forehead, the long,
downcast lashes, and the expression of the beau
tiful mouth, so sorrowful, yet so subdued and
sweet—it seemed like the picture of a dream.
“Florence!—Florence!” echoed a merry and
musical >o.ce, in a sweet impatient tone. Turn
your head, reader, and you will see a dark and
sparkling maiden, the very model of some little
wilful elf, born of mischief and motion, with a
dancing eye, a foot that scarcely seemed to
touch the carpet, and a *rnile so multiplied by
dimples, that it seemed like a thousand smiles
at once. “Come Florence, I say, 0 said the lit
tle fairy, put down that wise, good, excellent
volume, and talk with a poor little mortal—
come, descend from your cloud, my dear.’’
The fair apparition thus adjured,obeyed, and.
looking up, revealed just the eyes you expected
to see beneath such lids; eyes deep, pathetic
and rich, as a strain of sad music.
“I say, cousin,’’ said the ‘d rke ladye,’ “I’ve
been thinking what you are to do with your
pet rose when you go to New York—as to our
great consternation you are going to do—vou
know it would be a sad pity to leave it with
such a scatter-brain as I am. Ido love flowers
that's a fact; that is, I like a regular boquel,
cut off and tied up to carry to a party; but as to
all thi. tending and fussing that is neccessary to
keep them growing, I've no gifts in that line.’’
“Make yourself quite easy as to that, Kate,”
said Florence, with a smile, “I’ve no intention
of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum
for my favorite ”
“Oh, then you know just what I was going to
say; Mrs. Marshall, 1 presume has beeu speak
ing to you; she was here yesterday, and 1 was
very pathetic upon the subject, telling her the
loss \our favorite would sustain, and so forth,
and she said how delighted she should be to
have it in her green-house, it is in suen a line
state now, so full of buds. I told her 1 knew you
would like it, of all things, to give it to her; you
were always so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you
know.”
“Nay, Kate, I’m sorry, but I have otherwise
engaged it ”
“Who can it be to? You have so few inti
mates here.”
“Oh, only one of my odd fancies.”
“But do tell me, Florence.”
“Well, cousin, you know tiie little pale girl
to whom we give sewing.’’
o o
•* VS hat, little Ma.y Stephens? How absurd !
This is just of a piece, Florence, vvitii your other
motherly, old-maidish ways—dressing dolls for
poor children, making caps, and knitting socks
for all tiie dirty little babies iu the region round
about, ido beheve that you have made more
calls m those two vile, ill-smelling all tys back
of vtur house, than ever you have in Ciiesuut st.,
though you know every body lias been halt
dying to see you; and now. to crown all, you
uiu>t give this ctiuice littK-bjoU to a sempstress
girl, when one of your most intimate friends,
in your own cla*, would value it so highly.—
What in the world can people iu their circum
stances want with flowers?’’
“Just the same that 1 do,’’ replied Florence,
calmly. “Have you never noticed that the
little girl never cullies here without looking
wistfully at the opening buds 1 and don’t you
remember the morning when she asked me so
prettily if i would let her mother come aud see
it, she was so fond of flowers?’’
“But, Florence, only think of this rare flower
standing ou a table with ham, eggs, cheese aud
flour, and stifled in the close little room where
Mrs, Stephens and her daughter manage to
wash, iron, cook, and nobody knews what be
sides.”
“Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in
one coarse room, and wash, iron, and cook as
you say—if 1 hail to spend every moment of
my time in hard toil, with no prospect from my
window but a brick sidewalk, or a dirty lane,
sucli a flower as tins wouid be untold happiness
to me.’’
“Pshaw, Florence—all sentiment; poor peo
ple have no time to be sentimental: besides, 1
don't think it will grow with them—is a green
house flower, and used to delicate living.”
“Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires
whether its owner be rich or poor; and Mrs.
Stephens, whatever else she has nut, has sun
shine of as good a quality as that that streams
through our window. Tine beautiful things that
God makes are the gift of all like. You will
see that my little rose will be as well aud merry
in Mrs. Stephens’s room as in ours.’’
“Well, after all, how odd ! When one gives
to poor people one wants to give them some
thing useful—a bushel of potatoes or a ham for
example.*’
“Why, certainly, potatoes and ham must be
bad; but, having ministered to the first and
most craving wants, why not add any little
pleasures or gratifications that we may have it
in our power to give, i know that there are
many of the poor who have fine feeling and a
keen sen>e of the beautiful, which ru-ts out and
dies because they are too hard pressed to pro
cure it one gratification. Poor Mis Stephens,
for example; 1 know she would enjoy birds, and
flowers, and music as much as 1 do. I have
seen her eye kindle as she ha> looked on these
things in our drawing room, and yet not one
beautiful thing can she command. From ne
cessity, her room, her clothing, all that she has,
must t)e coarse and plain. Y T ou should have
se ti the almost rapture that she and Mary fell
when I ottered them my rose.”
“Dear me, all this may be true, but I never
thought of it before. I never thought that
these hard-working people had any idea of
taste /”
“Then why do you see so often the geranium
or rose carefully nursed in an old cracked tea
pot in the poorest room, or the morning glories
planted in a box, and made to twine around the
window. Do not all these show how every hu
man heart yearns after the beautiful ? You re
member how Mary our washerwoman sat up a
whole night after a hard day’s work, tnat she
might make her first baby a pretty little dress
to be baptised in.”
“Ye>, I remember, and how I laughed at you
for making such a tasty little cap for it.”
“Well, Kate, I think that the look of perfec’
delight and satisfaction with which the poor girl
regarded her baby in its new dress and can,
was something quite worth creating: I do be
lieve she could not have thanked me more, if I
had sent her a barrel of flour. - ’
“Well, I never before thought of giving to
the poor anything but what they really need
ed, and I have always been willing to do that
when I could without going far out of my way.”
“Well, cousin, if our Heavenly Father gave
to its as we often give, we should have only
eoar&e shapeless piles of provision, lying about
the world, instead of ail the beautiful variety of
* ‘ ‘ ’ “ ‘*
“ Snkpniirat in nil tjjings —Jiratrnl in noting”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 31, 1851.
trees, fruits and flowers which now delight U 9.”
“Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right,
but pray have mercy on my poor head; it is
too small to hold so many new ideas at once;
even go on your own way:” and the little lady
began practising a waltzing step before the glass
with great satisfaction.
PART 11.
It was a very small room, and lighted by on
ly one window. There was no carpet on the
floor; there was a clean but coarsely covered
bed in one corner; a cupboard with a few plate*
and di*hea in the other; a chest of drawers; and
before the window stood a small cherry stand,
quite new, and indeed the only article iu the
loom that seemed so. A pale, sickly looking wo
man of about forty, was leaning back in her
rockingchair, her eyes closed, ami her lips com
pressed as if in pain. She rocked I ackwaid and
forward <t tew moments, pressed her hand hard
upon her eyes, and then languidly resinned the
tine stitching on which she had been busy since
morning. The door opened, and a slender lit
tle girl of about twelve years of age entered,
her large blue eyes dilated, and absolutely ra
diant with delight, and she held up the small
vase with the rose-tree in it,
“Oh, see! mother, see! there's one in full
bloom, and two more half out, beautiful buds !’’
The poor woman’s lace brightened, as she
looked first on the rose, and then on her sickly
girl, ou whose face she had not seen so bright a
color for months.
“God bless her !” said she, involuntarily.
“Miss Florence! I knew vou would feel so,
mother; don't it make your headache better to
see this flower? Now you won't look so wish
ful at the gardeners’ stands in the market, will
you ? We have a rose handsomer than any
of theirs. \\ hy it seems to me, that it is worth
as much to us as our whole little garden used to
be. Bee how many more buds there are ou it,
just count, and only smel 1 the flower ! Where
•-hall we put it And Mary skipped about the
room, placing her treasure first in one position,
and then in another, and walking off to seethe
effect, till her mother gentlv reminded her that
the rose-tree could not preserve its beauty
without sunlight.
“Ult yes, truly !’’ said Mary; “well, then, it
must stand hereon this new stand. Ilow glad
I am tiiat we have sucli a handsome new stand
tor it, it will look so much better.” And Mrs.
Stephens laid down her work and folded a piece
of newspaper on which the treasure was duly
deposited.
“There,’’ said Mary, watching the arrange
ment eagerly, “that will do ; no, though it does
not show both the buds- turn it farther round—
a little more—there, it’s right; and Man walk
ed round the room to view the rose in various
positions, after which she insisted that her mo
ther should go round with her to the outside
to see how it looked there. “How kind it was in
Miss Florence to think of giving this to us,” said
jMary ; “though she has done so much for u*,
given us so many things, yet this present
stems the best of all, because it seemed as if
siie thought of us, and knew just how we felt,
and so few do that.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Stephens sighing.
What a bright afternoon that small gift made
ill that little room. How much faster had Ma
ry's tongue and fingers flew in livelong day, and
Mrs. Stephens, in the happiness of her child, al
most forgot that she had a headache, and
thought as she sipped her evening cup of tea,
that she felt stronger than she had done for
some time.
That rose! its sweet influence died not with
that first day. Through all the long cold win
ter that followed’, the watching, tending, and
cherishing of that flower, awakened a thousand
pleasant trains of thought that beguiled the
sameness and weariness of their life. Every
day the fair growing thing put forth some
fresh beauty; a bud—a leaf —or anew shoot,
constantly excited fresh delight iu its possess
ors.
As it stood in the window, the passer by
would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted by its
beauty, aud then how proud and happy was
Mary, nor did even the serious and care-worn
widow, notice with indifference when she saw
the eye of a chance visitor rest admiringly on
their favorite.
But little did Florence know when she gave
that gift, that there was twined around it an in
visible thread, that reached far and brightly into
the web of her destiny.
One cold afternoon in early spring, a tail,
graceful young man called at the lowly room to
receive and pay for some linen which the wid
ow had been making up. lie was a wav-farer
and stranger in the place, recommended
through the charity of some of Mrs. Stephen's
patrons. His eye, as he was going out, rested ad
miringly upon the rose ; he stopped and look
ed earnestly at it.
“It was given to us,” said the little Mary,
quickly, “ by a young lady as sweet aud beau
tiful as that is.
“Ah! ’ said the stranger, turning and fixing
upon her a pair of very bright eyes, pleased and
rather struck with the simplicity of the commu
nication, “and how came she to give it to you,
mv little girl ?’’
“Oh, because we are poor, and mother is sick,
and we never can have anything pretty. We
used to have a garden once, and we loved flow
ers so much, and Miss Florence found all this
out, and so she gave us this.”
“Florence”’ echoed the stranger.
“Yes, Miss Florence I'Estrange, a beautiful,
young lad v,—they say she is from foreign parts,
though she speaks English just like any other
lady, only sweeter?’
“Is she here now? is she in this city ?“ said
the gentleman eagerly.
“No, she left some months ago,” said the
widow; but noticing the sudden shade of disap
pointment on his face, she added, “hut you can
find all about her by inquiring at her aunt, Mrs.
Carlisle’s, No. 10 street.”
As the result of this, Florence received from
the office in the next mail, a letter, in a hand
writing that made her tremble. During the
many early years of her life spent in France,
she had well learned that writing; had loved as
a woman like her loves, only once ; but there
had been obstacles of parents and friends, sepa
ration, and long suspense, till at length, for ma
ny bitter years, sne lmd believed that the relent
less sea had closed for ever over that hand and
heart; and it was this belief that had touched,
with such sweet calm sorrow, every line in her
lovely face. But this letter told her that he was
living, that he had traced her, even as a hidden
steamlet may be traced, by the freshness, the
greenness of heart, which her deeds of kind
ness had left wherever she had passed.
And thus much said, do our fair readers need
any help in finishing this story for themselves 2
Os course not.
* • “ 4 - ‘ ‘ J *
From the Chronicle & Sentinel.
General Education.
Mr. Editor: —The subject which I have chos
en £or this communication is the Education o
the Poor in Georgia. The propriety of tin
choice will be readily realized, by your reader*
when they reflect that Ligrange, the place from
which I write, is “the town of Schools,” and
that I therefore live as it were in an education
breathing atmosphere. Here we have four very
extensive schools, “ Broumivood Institute ,’’ the
High. School the “ftemale Collegiate Semina
ry,” and the “ Female Collegiate Institute." —
In all of these institutions there are annually
taught as many as 000 pupils from* every part
of Georgia, and of the South. It is therefore
hoped that the citizens of (Georgia will permit :i
denizen of La GrA tge tolsuWiuit to their Con
sideration a few tlioughui mostly, of a statisti
cal character, on the important subject.
If we look to the history of Georgia, Mi-
Editor, we will see that the general diffusion of
wholesome Education among her masses was an
object of absorbing interest with her earliest
patriots; and that it has ever been with ht-r pa
triots from the foundation of her free government
up to the present day. In proof of this propo
sition, we present the following summary :
In 1740, under the patronage of the Coun
tess of Huntingdon, George Whitefield estab
litlied the Orphan Asylum on Vernon Ri\er,
about nine miles from Savannah. At that time
the Colony of Georgia was a mere settlement,
and even the physical existence of its inhabitants
was precarious, they being surrounded by sav
ages and threatened daily with famine. On the
sth day of February 1778. the first Constitu
tion of the State was adopted. The 54th sec
tion of that memorable instrument declares that
‘schools shall be erected in each county and
supported at the general expense of the State.’
In the Constitution of 1799, article 4th, section
13th, provides that “the arts and sciences shall
be promoted in one or more Seminaries of learn
ing;’ and furthermore arranges for Legislative
action in the premises. In 1783 one thousand
acres ofland were appropriated to each county
in the State, for the support of free Schools;
and in 1784, forty thousand acres to the endow
ment of a State University. Iu the preamble
to tiie charter of that University, the Legisla
tion made the following declaration which is
worthy of being engraved in marble; “As it is
the distinguishing happiness of free govern
ments that civil order should be the result of
choice and not necessity, and the common wish
es of the people become tfie laws of the land,
their public prosperity and even existence de
pend very much upon suitably forming the
minds and morals of their citizens. \Y lien the
minds of the people in general are viciously dis
posed and unprincipled, and their conduct dis
orderly, a free government will be attended with
greater convulsions, and evils more horrid than
in the wild uncultivated state of nature. Itcan
only be happy where th<pj| icip'.es and
opinion i arJ properly j p their matt
tiers regulated. Tins’ t‘lk'lice beyond
the stretch of laws and and can
be claimed only by religion
should, therefore, be among the first objects of
those who wish well to the national prosperity
to encourage and support the principles of reli
gion and morality, and early to place the youth
under the forming hand of society, that, by in
struction they may be moulded to the love of vir
tue and good order?
In 1792, one thousand pounds sterling were
appropriated to the endowment of an academy
in each county. On the 18th of December,
1817, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
were appropriated to Free School purposes. —
In the Land Lottery act of 1818, lots No. 10
and 100 in each surveyor’s district in the comi
ties of Appling, Irwin, Early, Walton, Gwin
nett, Hall and Habersham, as also the proceed
arising from the sale of fractions, were received
and set apart for educating poor children. On
the 17th of December, 1819, one hundred and
seventy-five thousand dollars were appropria
ted to the. same purposes. On the 18th of De
cember 1820, real estate belonging to country
academies, was exempted from taxation; and
on the 21st of December, of the same year, an
act was passed setting apart the funds arising
out of the sale of confiscated or reverted proper
ty, to the promotion of literature and the en
couragement of County Academies; on the same
memorable day, another very magnanimous act
was passed appropriating five hundred thous
and dollars, half to county academies and half
to Free Schools. On the 23d of December,
183 G, an act was passed appropriating one third
of the Surplus Revenue which this state may
receive from the United States as a permanent
Free School and Education Fund.
Titus do we imperfectly sketch some of the
leading acts of the Legislature of Georgia in
the glorious work of fostering Education and
diffusing it among the masses. But notwith
standing all that had been done, a brief report
to the Legislature of 1826 upon the subject of
the Common School and Acad-my fund, con
clude: “From all the information before your
Committee there is great ira|>ei-fection apparent
in the system of Education, and great laxity iu
the disbursement of this fund, calling fur a thor
ough refo-niation.’’
In 1837 and 1838, the Common School and
county Academy Fund was changed into the
Poor School Fund, and regulations were made
for the distribution of the same among the coun
ties of the State. In 1840 other important
legislative actions was taken. In 1843 other
more perfect regulations were made; Inferior
Courts of the several counties of the State were
empowered to levy and collect an extra tax in
their respective counties “sufficient, together
with such funds as may be received from other
sources, to educate the poor children of their
respective counties, provided such tax shall not
be levied without the recommendation of the
Grand Jurv of the first court in eacli year, and
that said Fund shall be kept separate from all
other county funds, and used for no other pur
pose whatsoever.” It was also wisely made the
duty of the Judges of the Superior Courts, ev
ery year to give this act of 1813 in charge to
the Grand Jury at the first term of each Supe
rior Court in each county of their respective Cir
cuits.
Since 1843 the education of the poor has
made but little progress in Georgia. It has re
mained for 1861, blest of the Calendar, to wit
ness the rewakening of the people in favor of
its general diffusion every where within the
bounds of our good old State. Behold the peo
ple of Georgia now awake to this, their nearest
and best interest! See then, how they move !
They rise in their majesty and decide to assem
ble in Convention at Marietta on the Bth of
July next. What well-tampered enthusiasm
pervades them! It gives good promise for the
result of their proposed temperate and welb
”‘t i 4
timed deliberations. Before us is the second
Circular of the State Committee. Hear, then,
what the Committee says:
“How long will Georgia continue to impose
the solemnities of oaths, upon her poor ignor
ant citizens, without an effort to enlighten their
understandings and consciences? How long
will she enthrone ignorance in the Jurv Box,
and give forth its decrees through the Ballot
Box? How long shall each recurring Census
publish to the world, that our old Common
wealth, still lingers at an immeasurable distance
behind the advancing civilization of the age?’’
“We delight in the boast that ours is a Re
publican State and consults “the greatest good
of the greatest liumbei.’’ And yet, Sir, contpar.-
Georgia's indifference on this subject, with the
enlightened poHcv of Prussia. Prussia, the de
fender of legitimacy, the champion if you please
of despotism, delights to make the light of Ed
ucation stream around the hearthstones of her
humblest, poorest citizens; whilst Republican
Georgia, with all her love for the dear people ,
suffers thousands of her citizens to live and die,
ignorant of the great truths of her Religion,
and without the first just conceptions of her
Laws and Institutions.” * * *
“We have ultimately to rely upon the Legis
lature for the adoption and endowment of a
system of Common Schools, suitable to the
condition of our people. To bring the Repre
sentatives up to so great a work, we must oper
ate upon the Constituent body. We must agi
tate, agitate—and thus as in England, every
great reform, and important measure of State
policy, of late years, lias been caused by agita
tion, so we shall carry this crowning measure* of
Georgia’s glory, if we begin with zeal and hold
on with fidelity. Let us meet then in Conven
tion at Marietta, strong in numbers it is t< be
hoped; but few or many, still strong in the dig
nity of our cause, and the certainty of its even
tint! triumph.”
We have now taken a hasty glance at some
of the measures that have beeu adopted to a 1
vance the cause of education in Georgia We
express a hope that the Convention at Mariet
ta will be very largely attended; and that the
friends of education will then take into prayer
ful and thorough discussion the question of
“What shall be done more universally and
thoroughly to educate the poor in Georgia?”
W ith tiiese remarks, Mr. Editor. I commend
the subject of this article to the candid consid
eration of your readers. Yours, truly,
Lagrange, Ga. Alfha.
Laughter. ---Oh ! glorious laughter! Thnu
man-ioviug spirit, that fora lime dost take the
outden from the weary hack; that dost lay salve
lo the feet bruised and cut by flints and shards ;
that takest blood baking melancholy by the
nose and makes it grin despite itself; that al
the sorrows of he past, doubts of the future
couloundest iu the joy of the present; tha
itiakest man truly philosophic, conqueror oi
niinselt and cate ! Lunglnei in to the face ot
mm what synovia---! think anatomists call il
is to the joints: it oils, luhiicaies and make the
uuinan countenance divine. Without it, faces
would have been t igg* and liyena-like ; the iniqui
ties of the human heart, with no sweet anlidoti
io work upon them, would have made the face
of the best among us a horrid, husky thing, with
two sullen, hungry, cruel lights at the top— tor
foreheads would then have gone out ol fashion.
What was tabbed of as the gulden chain oflove,
was nothing else than a sin-cession of laughs.
Exaqeration.—The extigerated style of conversation
indulged in bv certain geniuses, is sometimes rather
amusing. We knew one chap whose statements were
generally received by his acquaintances with several
grains o*allowance. A person who has “summered
and wintered” with him gives us specimens of his sto
ries adapted to both seasons.
Ho was coining down from Vermont to the Southern
border ol Massachusetts once, in March—so he sny* —
and the snow was very deep until he reached the North
ern boundary of the hitter State, when he found the
earth suddenly bare, and the borders of the snowy re
gion were so distinctly defined that when he came
down from the snow upon the bare ground, it wasjust
like coming down a flight of stairs upon the floor !
The other story is thuL He was making hay one
summer, and a cloud rose one afternoon v. ry suddenly,
threatening a heavy shower. He managed to pitch
his hav upon the cart, and drove rapidly to hi* barn—
the shower following close at his heels. He put whip
to his brave oxen and rushed onward, the cloud gath
ering blaekne**s and the storm roaring behind him. lie
redoubled his efforts, and finally had the satisfaction of
driving his team into the barn before a single drop of
wet had fallen upon the load of hay, although he was
so hotly pursued by tlte rain that his little dog came in
swimming about six feel behind the cart! Yankee
Blade.
A Tall Bov.—There is a youth exhibiting!
at Hittgham, Mass., nineteen years old, who
stands nearly eight feet high, and is still grow
ing.
The Journal says, his shoes are 16 inches
long, and his cap as big around as a Hingham
bucket; everything else about him in the same
proportion. Seven years ago, when ho was
twelve years old. ho was known and noted as
a dwarf; he was then but three feet high, and
weighed only 34 pounds. Since that time be
has grown eight inches a year on an average,
and has not done yet. Ho now weighs 400
pounds, and has strength in proportion. He
offers to lift a couple of barrels of flour at once,
(providing he may have them for the lifting,) or
to forfeit their price-
The Bunkum Flag Staff makes the following
admirable hit:
“We sincerely wish that people would read
the Bible more, and talk about it less. We
have now “the Bards of the Bible.” And what
can be said of the bards of the Bible more titan
they say for themselves? Can the Psalmist b<-
clapt upon the back patronizingly, and be told
that be writes well, and that Mr. Giitillan ad
mires him ? Was it not enough to have the
“Old M'*n of the Bible,” tiie “Young Men of the
Bible.” the “Women of the Bible,’’ the “Babies
of the Bible,’’ must we have the “ Bards of the
Bible?” Oh! the holy book is above praise.
Mr. Gilfillan might clap his hands till they were
raw, to applaud the harp of David, and it would
he nd use. In short, we would say, read the
Bible more than you read those who advise you
to read the Bible.”
Here is a specimen of “tall writing” in the
way of poetry: “There is a man who carre to
town, he swallowed a keg of molasses down—
the barrel worked, the molasses hurst, the
man lay scattered in the dust!” Where are
Street, Bryant,. Longfeilcrfr, and a!! the great
poets ?—Alb Knick
. : *■>
For the Georgia Citizen.
LEOXI,
OR THE ORPHAN OF VENICE.
. A TRAQEDT IN FIVE ACXB.
T T. H. CBIVER9, St. D.
’ [Continued.]
Dramatis Person©
.vm,
Gorjrr Altar, Leoxi’* reducer, iftcneards mrried to Thep.sba.
Dos Carlos. Leo XI, friend to LeOM. and brother to FxruXx.
Alvjso, cousin and husband to Ltom.
Do.v Pldo, friend to Cot XT Alva*,
Cot xt RocoLph, father to TdcRSSa end one of the DcCs't
( ‘OCxcil.
Duke and hit council,
Urrtccß and Guard.
WOMEN.
Leont, Orphan of Venice.
Elvira, her friend.
Thrrrra* i oif* te Cocirr Altar.
ACT III.—SCENE 1.
A magnificent apartment in Count Rodolph *
Palace. Enter Count Rudolph, Count Alvar.
and Theresa.
count rodolph.
I understand Don Carlos wa* the ui*a T /
COUNT ALVAR.
He was, my lord. lie had the impudence
To chide me to my face!
COUNT RODOLPH.
Not in the street T
COUNT ALVAR.
Xo, in this very house, my lord ?
COUNT RODOLPH
My Jove!
I would have crushed the viilain where he stood !
COUNT AI.VAR.
I would have slain the recreant in his tracks—
Theresa being nigh, prevented me.
THERESA.
I saw
The f How who addressed you yesterday
V\ ith some strange accusation, which has been
A puzzle to my senses ever since.
COUNT ALVAR.
Nay Carlos was not conscious what he said ;
And,doubtless, had been taxiing too much wine.
COUNT RODOLPH.
Hut had you no dispute beiore T /
count alvar.
Before,
My lord ? lie had not seen my face before.
COUNT RODOLPH.
Perhaps he may have seen you when in Spain.
COUNT ALVAR.
He may have seen me casually in Spain.
COUNT RODOLTH.
Out who was thy companion in the t< ur ?
COUNT ALVAR.
Alvino—one who loved me well—a youth
Os promise, who disdaimd the very north
lie trud upon. He was a noble soul!
But she, of whom Dou Carlos spoke, was young
Aiviuo's cousin.
THERESA.
She it was, my lord !
M hom Carlo* mentioned when he said to you,
1 think, ** Thou unit not hate Leoni s lore, 19
And when you drew your sword upon him there,
1 saw him brighten with an evil fire,
As if he wished he had his own with him,
Which, having, there is no doubt he had used ! >
COUNT ALVAR.
1 knew that well, therefore, prepared for him,
I told Don Pedro, from that moment forth,
To watch the prowling of the cursed woit'j
And if he found him stray lug from his path,
To cut the lifcstrings from Ins iron heart,
And dash him to the dog*!
THKRF.SA.
Then he is dead 1
I would not hesitate to swear that some
Foul mischief is uow breeding in the world !
Count alvar.
Uh, yea—some mischief'.’ Some foul, devilish thought
Is always uppermost in t coman's mind !
THERESA.
But Ims he not been absent now too long ?
You may depend upon it, he is not
The Man he seems to be.
COUNT ROSOLPH.
It may be so ;
She may have seen more of his thoughts than you ;
lor women ofteiier see more faults in men,
Than they see in themselves.
count alVar.
By Jove! what if
Lie has beheld Elvira? Sight of her,
Would change the purp;<se of his amorous soul,
And make the harduu sos his iron heart
As soft as down upon the turtle's wing,—.
For love will cool the fever of revenge.
THERESA.
Revenge, my lord? On whom?
COUNT ALVAR.
\Y lieu Pedro comas,
The message of his mission will be read.
THERESA.
Now written with an iron pen in blood 1
COUNT ALVAR.
Thy fancies always point some cloud upon
Thu dawn of thy expectancy !
COUNT RODOLPH.
Revenge l
COUNT ALVAR.
That same infernal Carlos, whom our friend,
Don Pedro, hates, is brother to his lore ;
Who, having sworu that they shall meet no more,
Don Pedro swears that he shah die ; —that's all,
THERESA.
May Ileavcu protect the innocent from liarm!
COUNT RODOLPH.
Answer to that!
COUNT ALVAR.
[Aside.
Who cares, so Carlos dies.
[Exeunt Om.net.
BCENE 11.
The tame apartment in Don Carlos’ pslace.—-En
ter Don Carlos and Alvino.
DON CARLOS.
What la her wish ? You have not told me that.
ALVINO.
Revenge—revenge as powerful as death,
And greedy as the yearnings of the grave!
DON CARLOS.
The universal cry of Vengeance is— >t j. fit
Revenge! that everlasting, briny hate (
Which gazes from the bottom of the soul,
And storms the passions of the heart to rage!
But mark ! the hardest whetstone to the edge
Os our revenge, ia Pedro.
alvino.
Pedro?
DON CARLOS.
Yes;
The rascals friend, D*>n Pedro, came within
An ace of frightening me to oeath last night
ALVINO.
Os frightening you to death ?
DON CARLOS.
Indeed t* did-
Os murdering =>e In sleep!
u.nno.
Most devilish fiend : 1
Who set the coward on 7 W here is he now ?
DON CARLOS.
We shall oonfer with him in private soon;
He may be of especial use to US.
There is some lying to be done, yon know,
And he will flii that office to the life.
I mesa to iustigate him to the death
Os Rudolph—promising Elvira’s hind—
And then both murders will be fixed on him,
ALVINO.
The meanest will snlFe> for the guilty./
DON CARLOS.
i What! Pedro innocent ? Are y*u prepared?
ALVINO.
I am.
DON CARLAS.
Then mark me; Lodging in my roots*
To-night, which looks upon Count Alvar’s house.
Will save you from the Watchmen in the streets,
And hide suspicion. Therefore, go thou thcaec;
. And after you have sacrificed the dog
Upon the Altar of legitimate revenge j
Return back from the palace of the dead,
Aul lodge there all the night. Now, mtud the storm j
And navigate your vtxsel through the sea,
As though you had this pilot at the helm ;
And when you shall approach the ar.ppy xbjre.
The fat-off scenery, bristling on the sky.
Will seem Elysian Gardens to lha soul.
ALVINO.
The traitor then will have no home !
DON 3ARLOS.
Farewell!
Sake lodgings in my room to-night.
[Exit Don Car lot
ALVINO.
’ Farewell!—
Who knows how aom man’s nature may misgive?-
But stronger thin fear is my revenge!— -
Ye Gods! support me in that trying hour,
Which is to set an everlasting seal
Upon the aoul of him whose life is death,
And whose eternal destiny is Hell!
[Exit.
Enter Don Pedro and elvira.
DON PEDRO.
But are there still suspicions in his mind
That Alvar sent me to destroy hit life ?
ELVIRA.
There are— el h.ingb your future conduct may
Dispel the cloud which overhangs his soul.
DON CARLOS.
But would Elvira doubt her Pedro's word?
ELVIRA.
, The idea has not wholly left my mind.
DON PEDRO.
By all tho Gods, at once, dispel the thought!
There is not, in the vxsuicssof my soul,
A single thought that is not spent for him ;
And all the bright things of the living world,
Are brightened in the presence of thy smiles 1
The fanciful array of odorous flowers
Which deck the emerald mantle of the spring,
Whose perfumes, risingou the breath of Mora,
Float upward to the embrace of the sun—
Are coloured bv the beauty of thy smiles,
And sweetened by the odor of tliy breath !
ELVIRA.
I Uli you. Carlos, that my brother thinks
Count Alvar sent you to destroy his life;
And if he find you feeble in his wish,
Or faltering in the purpose of his hate 5
His enmity will grow upon you fresh,
But if he find you wedded to his soul,
And quick to execute his simplest thought 5
Then will he lix>k upon you as his friend,
And treat you as if lie ha l never been
Aught but the friend that he will be to you.
DON PEDRO.
Such is the temper of his manly heart.
But he who would deceive an orphan girl
By blushes, silvered over with his tears,
Would murder Carlos in the dead of night
But ace! ho comes !
[Exit Elvira
Enter count Carlos.
DON CARLOS.
The hour will soon arrive.
DON PEDRO
Is every thing prepared ?
DON CARLO*.
To-night! to-night!
Alvino cocks him by the Moon to-night.
DON PEDRO.
Then will hia soul ascend above the stars 1
DON CARLOS.
Ascend ?—Descend into the depths of Heß!
But mark I There is one villain living yet,
Besides Count Alvar ! —Pedro! he must dia I
DON PEDRO.
Who can that be ?
DON CARLOS.
Count Rodolph— he that stands
Against Alvino, if Count Alvar die.
Nowbwear, b.forehigh Ileaven, that ha shall dm!
DON PEDRO. v
Then promise that Elvira shall be mine?
DON CARLOS.
I lei! yon, Pedro, she is free to choose,
And thou art standing now above my sou!.
As docs the uncharged thundercloud of Heavou
Above the parched lips of the cracking earth ;
And if thou wilt descend upon that fiend,
The sweet refreshment of the stormy shower
Will mako the dearest April of my life.
Now swear!
DON PEDRO.
I swear, my lord, that ho skall dte,
As surely as Elvira shall be mine.
DON CARLOB.
The oath is registered among the Gods!
This way.
iGoing.
DON PEDRO.
The God* shall see that duty done I
[Exeunt
SCENE HI.
Tune, midnight.—ln front of Count Alvar's Pal
ace.— Thunder and lightning —Enter Alvipc*
drtti in dark clolhtt.
ALVINO.
Roll on, thou bihowy Trumpeter of night!
And let the clamour of thy mighty voioe
Fill up the embraoojjf eternity!
Spread out the groaning Hell-tones of thy ba>_
Until the mountains echo back your song,
And scorch the folding* of the curtained earth
With thy cloud breaking vengeance !
[Ceaset thundering.
All is s ill.’
Still a* the awful silence of the grave !
Now, that the mantis, night, is thrown around
The cradle, earth whereon mankind repo.e—
That e is no time so suited to the deed—
No deed so hateful to the eye of Day !
But who shall wake him from that tatal sleep.
And bring him back to consciousness again ?
Os all the periods in the Book of Time,
There is no full stop to the human soul
So awful, in it* nature as that point
Which ends the final Chapter of this life?
For when we turn the last leaf over, wt
Behold the everlasting blank beyoQ^-^’
Tlie which ia that eternity, wherein
No light shall erw eater to the damwsd!—
NO. 9.