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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.