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VOL. 2. I'rufrasimiol k 35usinrs5 Curts w^wmr U6UEERIOTYPIST, MACON. GA. j£+r ENTRANCE FROM TIIE AVENUE. Jtlfi apr 19 ts ’ HAU ROAD HOUSE, OPPOSITE CENTRAL RAILROAD DEPO T EAST MACON. ts S. M. LANIER. JACK BROWN, ATTORNEY AT TAW, B 1 KNA VISTA, MARION CO., OA. apr 12 KELLAM & BELL, ATTORNEY’S AT LAW & GENERAL LAND AGENTS, ATLANTA, ::::::::::: : GA. Will practice in DeKalb and adjoining countieß, and in th* Supreme Court at Decatur. \\ ill also vi =it any 1 rt °* the country for the settlement of claims Jc. without suit. a- 3 Bounty Land Claims prosecuted with despatch. Office on White Hull St., over Dr. Denny’s Drug Store. *. R. XELLAM. M ’ A ‘ BFI1 ” ibgTar r in g T 0 N, Attorney at Law and Notary Public, Oglethorpe, Jlaeou Cos., dec GEOR CIA- 38 ~ tf CITY HOTEL, SAVANNAH,•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•••GEORGIA. P. CONDON. Terms: Transient Boarder?, per day, $1,50. _ Monthly and yearly Boarders in proportion. apr .> y sltturnrn nt Turn, OFFICE OVER BEI.DES AND CO’s. HAT STORE, Mulberry Street. Maron, Georgia.^ HARDEMAN & ii A MILTON^ Ware House and Commission Merchants, M/ICO.Y, GEORGIA. HAMILTON & IIARDEMAN, I U TORS &- COMMISSION MERCHANTS, 5.} rAxWIH, G h'.ORGIA. Will give prompt attention to all business committed to them at either place. Tnns.t.A.n.siAS. QP-tf) ciias. r. nAMti.roM. GS3aS23iSS!i©33 Si3Sa33i3S3 Savannah, Ga. I atm P YONCK, No. 94 Bay street. Savannah, continues \\ ir-',ranact a tlmieral Commission Uusinessand 1-actor ,.w andr."peetfai.v solicits consignments of < otto,, tore, and other produce. He will also attend to receiving and for wardin'! Merchandize. — April 5, 1831 ly \v7 D ETHERIDGE & Cos., rACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS, S 1F.1.Y.V.1/f, GEORGIA. T"* ass zxsxr *. {j. -- “"""” ire'll H ib 0©u v Factors & Commission, merchants, ailg 3o SAVANNAH , GEORGIA. -6m FIELD & ADAMS. FI 51E-FKOOF W A SI FI3OU§Ej MACON, GORGIA. ri'MiF. undersigned will continue tin. Ware-Hhuse and Com -1 Bus,ness, at the commodious and well known l- .re proof Building, formerly occupied by Dyson & 1 iei.o an< ZTwZ bv us. The attention of both the partners wil e given to all business entrusted to their care respee fuh llv solicit the patronage of the pubhc generally. They are pre pared to make liberal cash advances on all Cotton ... store at rates. r 1!af?glll , a „d Rope will ta fill ed at the lowest market prices. J’ lIIN M. 11 ‘ > aug9 ts A - B ~ Al)A ’ ~ SASH AMD WINDOW BLIND Wl £P Si C£? ® rpHE sut,scrit>er is manufacturing the above articles by J Steam Machinery, at very moderate prices. TURNING AND PLANING. He has machinery for this business, an^villproinptlyexe cu.c any jobs in this line. ALEX. McURECOIL julydt! _____ r IRE INS U KANC E BV THE COHHIERCIAL INSURANCE COMPANY OF CHARLESTON S. C. CAPITAL $250,000 —ALL PUD IN. AVs. B. Heriot, Pres A. M. Lee. Sec y. Director * : „ _ , Trenholm. Robert Caldwell, K. Robinson. Leo. ircnnonn, x. R. Taft, Henry T. Street, \\ n>. ..Icßurney, J. 11. - ’ T. I, Wragj. -'r>lF. subscribe™ having l>oen appointed \gents for the 1 above Company, are now prepared to take risks agamst Fire,on favorable terms. LARIIAKT, Lilt. june'Jl’ * OIIN. II VNKS & KOOSEVELI tender their professional services to the citizens oi Macon and sur rounding country. , , . , . Residence on College Hill, Hie house formerly occupied by Charles Dav. Office on the corner of Third and \\ alnut street, w. banks, m. i>. (sept G-y) f. J. Roosevelt, m. and. AT NEW YORK COST 'T'iIE undersicncd offers his Urze stock of Staple “nd Kan -1 cy Dry GmkH to the peopleassembled dunng Ia t and week following at New York Cost, for cat . will be given to all customers. ‘ oct So 2t Below Levy’s Foundry, Cotton Avenue. R. G. JEFFERSON & CO. MANUFACTURER AND WHOLESALE DEALERS IN CHAIRS, West Side Broad St., first door above P. M'Larin's, COLUMBUS, GA. TIIKY keep on hand an excellent supply of Office, VV ooti Seat, split Bottom and Rocking Chaus; Bedsteads, Wood en Ware. &c. Jjp* All Orders left as above, will meet with prompt atten tlon. DOvl ~ tf _ AV. S. WII.LIFOBB, COMMISSION MERCHANT AM) AUCTIONEER, Macon, Ga. All kinds of Produce and Merchandise, (except liquors) re ceived on consignment. S. & It. P. HALL, ATTORNEYS AT LAW , .Macon, G a . Office on Cotton Avenue, over Little's Drug Store, (octll) Notice. ALL persons indebted to the late firm of TAYLOR & ROFF by open account or note, are solicited to call at the old stand and settle without delay. nol-2ui TAYLOR &■ ROFF. A large lot of Knives and Forks just received and for sale, very low. GEO. JONES. ept 20—if For the Georgia Citizen. LOVE I\ T A STAGE-COACH Or a Chapter from the History of an old Maid. BY “ AUNT JENNIE.’’ “.? o'er true Tale.” ‘Once upon a time,’ to plunge immediately in medias res , my friend Bell and myself receiv ed a letter from a mutual friend and quon- j dam school-mate, inviting us, very pressingly, ; to spend a few weeks with her, at her ‘ain dear haute.’ Accordingly, we consulted our careful mamas in reference to the expediency of going alone in the stage coach, without the protection of any of the soi disant Lords of Creation.— We thought two girls nearly grown, and as we flattered ourselves fully arrived at the ‘years of discretion,’ could easily take care of them- j selves. Not so did onr mothers think. llow- j ever by dint of repeated teasing and begging, we finally obtained the desired permission. But before proceeding further I will inform tile gentle or simple reader, who ‘l’ and ‘Bell’ | are, or were, for I am speaking of the time ‘ when we were but school girls. She is now, i alas! a married woman ! To commence, then, j with that egotistical pronoun, / was, at the time of which 1 am writing, a young lady of some fifteen years, with just sense enough to save me from the cognomen of simpleton, (though I then thought I was an amazingly smart young lady ; time which has dispelled most of my fine illusions, lias unfortunately proved that said idea was founded upon but slight grounds!) and just beauty enough to save me from that, to woman, dreadful adjec tive. ugly. But in regard to myself, I have said enough. As for Bell I will be more ex plicit, in describing her, for her sweet face de- 1 serves far more than the imperfect description of my feeble old steel pen, (I intend to write with a gold one when my fame is equal to that of Madame DeStael’s!) Arabella Willis was one of my most inti mate friends. She was a year or two my senior, but she seemed to prefer my love to that of the elder girl. To use an exceedingly new and original phrase, she was a little above the mid dle height.’ She had one of the sweetest faces l ever smv. Her complexion was clear and pearl v, her cheeks brilliant with the rosy hue of health, her eyes were of a deep grey, and in grey eves there is no medium so to speak. They are either extremely beautiful and expressive, or else they are apt to resemble an old pile of granite, ora pewter tea spoon, and are perfect ly and outrageously uglv. Some of the finest and most expressive eyes I ever saw were grey, and on the other hand, the most horrid and in expressive orbs I overlooked upon were also that that line. Having expressed my mind freely in regard to grev eyes, 1 will proceed with my de scription of friend Bell. Her hair was black, silkv mid glossy like the raven’s wing, and her feet and hands were perfectly beautiful, fit to | serve as a model for a sculptor. My descrip tion mav seem verbose, but in recalling the scenes of my pas! life, when I was a light-heart ed, careless school girl, surrounded by kindred and dear friends, my mind dwells with plea sure upon those carlv friends I loved so much, and fondly lingers with mournful joy upon the lineaments of their faces, and the pleasant traits of their characters. 1 lie past is my only treasure. I have no future, and the present I care not to dwell upon. But to proceed, as poor Neal observes in his ‘Charcoal Sketches, ‘Digression is a runaway steed.’ Mv friend’s character corresponded with her face. She was the personification of amiability. Ido not recollect of ever seeing her angry in my life, and yet she had nothing of that meek, tame manner which renders most very amiable peo ple so extremely insipid. For my own part. 1 admire a little temper, always supposing that, its possessor lias perfect.control over it. and I think I never saw one of those uncommonly amiable meek persons, who was possessed of brilliant talents. But Bell was something of an excep tion to this rule, for although by no means a girl of great talent, sbe was lively, piquant and sensible in her conversation, and she had in an eminent degree that peculiar tascination of man ner which attracts and interests, even in a higher degree than mere beauty, unaccompa nied by this fascination of manner. Well, it was in the merry month of June, that \\e received the above mentioned invitation to go to B and in a week or two we were ready to start. Harriet Tilman, the friend mo were going to visit, had been a favorite school mate of ours, and we were greatly elated at the prospect of meeting Her again, after a separa tion of some months. Our journey was but a short one, which however would occupy two days, the facilities for travelling not. being at that time quite equal to the present, when the ‘lron Ilorse’ conveys one over the route in a few hours, which then occupied days. Ihe day was fortunately bright and lovely. (Mr. Edi tor, did you ever read a story in which the days were not uncommonly beautiful, save perhaps an* occasional magnificent thunder storm in troduced for the purpose of presenting an op portunity for the hero to rescue the lovely he roine from iminent peril ?) \\ e were to leave mv father’s house, where Bell had spent the preceding night, at eight o’clock A M. and we arose betimes and, as the servant girl said, fidg eted about like two old maids, waiting very impatiently for the stage coach, which was to take us on our first trip of independence , as we thought it. Our things were in a perfectly prepared state, and we attired in our travelling dresses two hours before the usual time for the coach to appear, but finally after what seemed to us an age. The stage coach did drive up to the Post Office, and Hotel and then to my fath er’s house, at five minutes past eight, which we thought an unpardonable waste of time.— Our luggage was taken out, and placed upon the stage coach, and Byll and myself, after lis tening demurely to my mother’s injunctions in regard to restraining our spirits within due bounds, and behaving in a lady-like mannei. which we of course, promised most readily, bade the family adieu, and were assisted into the coach, which seemed to us like Cinderjlla s fairy coach formed from a pumpkin, about to convey us to perfect joy and felicity. An how brilliant our visions are in early youth, and even when we see them fade, and ’leave not a wreck behind,’ our imagination can supply us with am ple materials for building anew city of air cas tles, peopled with beings, bright, beautiful and good, and ’tis only when we are taught the stern lessons of life repeatedly, that we are rudely awakened from our cherished dreams, to the sad bitter realities of life. I have dreamed my share of fine dreams, and I would that I could now ex perience the same joy I was wont to, formerly, in indulging in imagination’s bright pictures, but one or two lessons in particular have taught me that wisdom I would gladly lose. I know “Snipjirnitrnt in nil tilings —firatrnl in nofljing” MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 29, 1851. liuman nature too well. Would that I nud not the power 1 have to read in the great, but gloomy book. To resume again. When we seated ourselves in the coach there were already seven occupants, but they po litely made room for Bell and myself, and gave us a seat by each other. They were doubtless prepossessed in our favor, from the glimpse they had of us, e’re we enter ed the carriage! Bell and myself occupied the n iddle | scat, and when we were comfortably settled, & the stage | drove off, I commenced a survey of our campagnions du voyage, in order to ascertain, what kind of crowd we had fallen into, so far as I could decide by cursory observation. I raised my eyes first towards the seal opposite ourselves, and encountered the gaze of a pair of large, dark brilliant orbs fixed upon my face—said eyes had their place in a face of which the features were all in harmony, nose, mouth and forehead—all were remarkably fine. The teeth, which were partially seen, j were white and dazzling and entirety free from that ’ dark ugly stain which the ‘lndian weed’ gives to the teeth of a majority of the precocious gentlemen of the present day. Over his high white brow, bung masses of datk waving hair which here and there formed itself into curls which I could but envy their possessor. 1 made a i very rapid inventory in my mind, of the meriis of his i physiognomy, for the blood rushed unceremoniously, to j my cheeks, as I met his fixed gaze, and 1, immediately and with some embarrasment, turned my head towards Bell, toseeif she also observed this young Apollo. By the crimson tint in her cheek, I inferred that she, too, had met the thrilling glance of those dark eyes. The rest of the company looked, as 1 once heard a per son quaintly say of a certain religious congregation, like ‘the scum of creation,’ consequently I shall not call the reader’s patience into requisition by any more per sonal descriptions. The young gentleman above men tioned seemed perhaps more interesting and gentle manly from the force of contrast. Be that as !it rna v , he soon commenced conversing with us, and it was not long before vve all became quite communtea tive and free,our companion proving himself to be as interesting in manners and conversation, as in personal appearance. But l could but observe that Bell unlike her usual self, left us to sustain the conversation most ly —appearing a little sad, it seemed to me, which somewhat surprised me, as she was, generally, more ready with common polite chit chat than myself. Our new acquaintance showed himself very gentlemanly and kind in his attention to us, and removed all the embarassment we had felt at leaving home without a gentleman’s protection. A few hours after our depar ture from home, hearing Bell and myself speak ofbeing on our way to B to visit in Judge Tihnan’s fami ly, he looked at us with surprise, amd enquired if it was to B. we had spoken of going, and upon my re plying in the affirmative he informed us that he resid ed there, and was a distant relative of Jude T's. family, and when we heard his name, which he then told us, we were surprised and gratified, for we had so often heard Harriet Tilman speak of cousin Fred Murry, it seem ed almost like falling into the company of an old ac quaintmee. All reserve was now banished, an J we enjoyed ourselves much, joking, laughing and talking of friend Hattie and her lathers's family,of which Mur ry told us many good and amiable traits, and we final- I !y became so merry and well pleased with each others’ society, that the silent people around us in the stage, who had hardly opened their mouths to utter a word since we left homo, stared at. us w ith astonishment, aiijl one old maid (1 am confident she belonged to the worthv sisterhood front her remarkably prim, stiff de meanor, and more especially from that peculiar vinegar like expression of countenance that ladies, who live in a ‘state of single blessedness’ are apt to wear,) cast sundry annihilating glances towards us, and looked volumes of spite and warning, which however had but little effect, save to cause Fred Murry to make some remarks, so irresistibly comic, that wc could not restrain our risibles, although we feared she might suspect she was the object of our mirth. And while Bell and myself were nearly choked with laughter, Fred Mur ry, with a face portentiously long and grave, turned towards her, (she sat on the same seat he did) and ad dressed some of the most polite and polished speeches toher, which she received so graciously and simper ii.gly and looked at him so condescendingly, Bell and myself could hut laugh, with all our efforts to avoid it, and the old maid looked at us with double distilled ven om in her glance,and observed, ‘1 do detest little flirting giggling foolish school girls,’ at whi :h remark Murry bowed profoundly and with the gravity of a Judge replied, T too dislike such ladies, but oh, madam I ad mire, I almost adore a young lady of matured charms, and of some dignity of demeanor —a lady, for instance, like yourself, just beyond twenty.’ The old maid fair ly laughed out right at this speech, and if she had not left the stage in an hour or two after, I am certain she would have ‘set her cap’ directly at Fred Murry, whom she overwhelmed with talk after his fine speech, much to his annoyance. When we stopped for the night, which we did about ten o’clock, Murry attend- ed to all our wants in the kindest manner, and after partaking of a substantial supper, and chatting a short time in the parlor of the hotel, Bell and myself retired for the night, being informed that the stage would be ready to start again at day light. When alone in otir room, 1 remarked to Bell ‘hav'nt we had a nice time, and is’nt Murry very agreeable?’ She nodded as sent to my queries, hut made no reply, and finding she was in an unusually taciturn mood, 1 soon fell asleep, dreaming of stage coaches, interesting passengers et cetera, and, if the truth be told, 1 felt a curious, inde scribable sensation, in th - region of the heart, when I thought ofour new acquaintance, and although 1 should have ridiculed the idea of being in love with one whose acquaintance 1 had so recently formed, I could not con fess I admired hint more than anv gentleman 1 had ever seen, for unlike most school girls, I had never possessed that faculty that ‘bread and butter Misses’ usualiv have, in such an eminent degree, of becoming ‘smitten’ in common parlance, with each youth they see. Murry had shown far more attention to myself than he had done to Bell, and I was, alas! at a very susceptible age ! But not to anticipate. We arose betimes in the morning, and immediately, after a very early breakfast, we started again, Murry again showing us all those little kind attentions, which go so far with our sex, and cost the other so little trouble. The day passed quite as pleasantly as the preceding one, in truth it was more agreeable, from the fact that we had the carriage to ourselves, there being no other passengers, and con sequently wo felt more freedom to laugh, talk and sing. We stopped to dine, and then proceeded again, and about four o’clock P. M. we arrived at our destination, in llte pretty village of B , and the driver took us directly to the house of Judge T. and, immediately, we saw pleasant faces peeping from the window, and as Murry assisted us to alight, our friend Harriet Til man and her two sisters came out to greet us, and a kindly reception it was. They were evidently surprised to see us in company with Murry, but a few words explained the matter, and after inviting him to return and spend the evening with us, he bade us adieu and went home. We were ushered into the house, and presented to Harriet’s parents, who showed us the kindest attention, then, and during the whole of our sojourn with them. After a few kind enquiries on all sides, the girls conducted us to our room, where we soon divested ourselves of our traveling dresses, and prepared ourselves for evening—or as Harriet said ‘primped to see Murry !’ Then we returned to the drawing-room uad spent some time in remiseences of the past, recalling our school days, with all their joys and griefs—often laughing heartily at some well re- memberd joke, and again speaking sadly of some de parted friend, but while engaged in calling up images from the past, we were reminded pleasingly of the pre sent, by a summons to supper, of which we partook with the appetites of travelers —and then the lamps were lit. and we prepared to spend a social happy eve ning. Presently we heard the door bell ring; my heartbeat in double quick time. I felt assured who it was, and I ‘guessed’ (being a Yankee, I possessed the true Yan kee faculty of guessing ) truly —for Murry directly entered the room where we were, and seated himself by my side. The evening passed all too quickly to me, with music to aid in its flight. Bell did not seem like her usual merry self, and when we rallied her upon her loss of spirits, she excused it by the usu al disease with ladies, the headache, though I observed when we retired to our room for the night, she was as lively and communicative as any of us. The next day the young lieaux of the villege proposed to us to join a boat ride where vve could form tliTacquaintance of all the young folks, without waiting the ceremony of receiv ing fashionable calls, and not being great sticklers for etiquette, we cheerfully accepted the invitation. The day was bright and the sky clear and cloudless, and our excursion proved to be as delightful in reality as it had been from anticipation—(rather a remarkable cir cumstance by the way, and worthy of being recorded in this wise history (!) We were introduced to all the party, both girls and boys, among whom we found some very intelligent and agreeable young people, of both sexes, for B abounded in young folks—and pleasant ones too. We spent the morning rowing upon the clear smooth surface of the pond, called by the girls ‘Lake Geneva,’ some of our number essaying their piscatory skill, with sufficient success to add some fine fish to our rustic repast, which vve partook of in a grove on the banks of the lake, where a part of the young men had arranged it. About four o’clock P. M. we returned to B and the whole party were invited to take supper at Judge IPs. and spend the evening, which invitation they ac cepted. During the week vve were constantly en gaged ill some pleasure excursion, which though de lightful to me, I will not attempt to describe. Muny was always with us in all our parties, and usually by my side—and when not otherwise engaged lie spent his time at Judge B's. with us, where the time if not passed as gaily, to me seemed even more delightful than when 1 saw him in a crowd. I soon discovered that I was happier in his society than any where else, and I could not long blind myself to the fact that I had giv en him my heart unasked--but the thought brought no humiliation with it, for how could I doubt that my love was reciprocated ? I had but little experience in such matte rs it is true, but if particular attention, and lover-like deference meant anything, I could not doubt that Murry loved me, and would take an early oppor tunity of telling me so, and 1 was surprised that he did not appreciate Bell’s charms of face and manners more. I know I was not beautiful nor attractive, but towards 801 l his manners were merely polite and respectful, and on her part, she really seemed to avoid him. To me her conduct was inexplicable, for she was sad and abstracted, most of the time, and once on suddenly entering our chamber 1 found her in tears. M lien I enquired the cause of her grief, she .seemed embar rassed, and would not offer any satisfactory explana tion, but endeavored to appear w ith her usual cheer fulness. When we left home, we tioipatarif staying but two or throe weeks, but out, Jjtds prised us so urgently to extend our visit to a length, that we gladly consented, provided we could obtain the per mission of our parents to do so—and it was with ex ceeding joy on my own part, that I received a letter containing the desired permission—but our addition al time hail now nearly expired, and vve expected our friends to come for us in a few days. We had now been in B six weeks, which bad to me fled like a dream. A few days before we expected to leave vve were invited to attend a large and brilliant party, given by the young people at a neighboring house, where we had become very intimate during our so journ in the town. They were wealthy and fashiona ble people, and the party was expected to be a splen did affair, and great preparations were being made, many persons being invited from a distance, both mar ried and single. We anticipated the party with much pleasure, the more as there was to be dancing. Mean while, Bell’s conduct still seemed strange. At one time, she would sit sad and silent, with a pale cheek and heavy eye, not seeming to notice what took place around her. Again, her gaiety was startling, so wild was she in her mirth. Murry once enquired of me if she was always so variable in her conduct, and when 1 replied, that 1 never saw her so, until vve came to li , he fell into a deep reverie, and did not answer my next question till 1 had repeated it two or three times —and then he started and appeared embarrassed, though wherefore, 1 was too blind then to surmise. The evening of the party at length arrived, and Murry who was to attend us there, came some time before vve were ready. In fact I do not recollect of a young gentleman’s ever finding a lady quite ready to go to any place whatever! Bell and myself were in our chamber dressing and were not aware that Murry had arrived. Never had I seen Bell look so beautiful its site did that night, in a dress of white tarleton, with short sleeves. She wore no ornaments, save one bracelet on Iter full white ann. Her hair hung in its own natural glossy ringlets on Iter brow, and around her luad was a wreath of green leaves and scarlet flowers. The hurry of dressing, and the excitement of the anticipated party —had given a fine carnation to her check, and lent a lustre to her expressive eyes, and wheu she had completed her toilet 1 could not for bear expressing my enthusiastic admiration, as in those days I generally said what 1 thought without consider ing etiquette or consequences. I have learned better, however, since. As 1 was hardly ready, Bell proposed to go to the parlor, to practice some pieces she intend ed to play during the evening, and 1 was left alone. Jn about twenty minutes I was leaday, and taking my gloves and handkerchief in nty hand, 1 descended the stairs. The door of the drawing room was a little ajar, and hearing a low murmur of voices I peeped in thinking it was only the girls, and intending to frighten them a little by suddenly springing into the room. On the sofa sat Murry with one arm thrown around Bell’s slender form while her head reposed on his shoulder— I stood transfixed of course, and unable to move, till the spell was broken when 1 heard him say, ‘I have loved you, doarest Bell, from the first moment 1 saw you but thinking you disliked me I forbore telling you.’ 1 now felt I mnst listen no longer, and with an effort I sb lently and unseen returned to my chamber, and turning the key of the door, I threw myself upon the couch and clasping my hands over my eyes, as if to shut out some horrible sight, l remained thers, almost paralized with such anguish as we can never feel but once, and that when our first great bitter heart-trial comes upon us when our first joyous trusting dream of love is rudely dispelled by some cold harsh reality of life. ‘Tis a pity that one cannot be allowed to revel in Utopian dreams of the good and beautiful in youth without being so grievously deceived by some trusted friend , that the vision is suddenly dispelled, and sees human nature as it is. I know not how long I remain ed in this state of silent sorrow. To me it seemed as if hours had passed when llarrmt knocked at the door, and in gay, blithe tones, which grated harshly on my ear, demanded admittance. I roused myself, and en deavored, for the first time in my life, to appear cheer -1 ful, when I felt sorrowful, and when I opened the door she exclaimed, ‘why Jennie ! what is the matter ? \ou are as pale as a ghost.’ With a continued effort, 1 re plied gaily, ‘1 have had n severe attack of tooth ache which compelled me to lie down a few minutes, but it has passed now.’ If I had said heart-ache , 1 should have come nearer the truth. ‘Well* said she, ‘you should have called for some remedy. You know Tin quite a Doctor but as you are better, you must hasten. W eare all ready, and only waiting on you, and don’t | you think, Fred Murry and Bell have suddenly become the best friends in the world —after seeming to dilsike each other so long !’ She laughed and we went to gether to the room where the rest were waiting, for us 1 returned Murry’s joyous salutation, cheerfully, and we immediately got ready to start. Murry assisted us into the carriage, and seated himself by Bell. I will not attempt to describe the torture of that evening. All was mirth and revelry, every eye sparkled and every cheek glowed as the gay strains of music sounded through the rooms, preparatory to dancing. Murry danced the first set with4iell, anc( both looked the personification of happiness. I danced but once with him, and I saw, now the scales bad fallen from niy eyes, that bis polite and friendly attention to me had never meant anything. And l noticed when not by Bell’s side, his eye was continually turning in the direction where she was. I watched them both, closely, inflicting voluntary torture upon myself. W hen I look back through the vista of many years I can but wonder that 1 bore my sorrow so well —my first, as it was, of any magnitude, and maintained any show of cheerfulness in that festive throng. When the paity had finally closed and the revellers bad all departed, ourselves included, 1 retired to my room immediately, pleading fatigue, and left the rest of our circle iu the parlor, canvassing the merits of ladies, gentlemen, Arc. It was late and l seated mysel by an open window, and indulged iu bitter thought until Bell came in, ra diant with joy, and exclaimed, “why Jennie, you ought not to be sitting by that window, and you are com plaining ol feeling unwell too. You are inprudent.” 1 replied, I felt better to have the air blow on my head, and did not stir. Bell then observed that she bad a secret to tell me, and she proceeded to relate how she had loved Murry from the first of our meeting in the stage coach, but that he did not love her, she had tried to overcome it, Arc., and how, when she, that evening, had found him unexpectedly in the parlor alone, she had started to return to our room, but he implored her to remain, and then declared his love. 1 did not l.sten to her words further, but when the sound of her voice ceased 1 knew she would expect my sympathy and congratulations, which 1 gave freely and sincerely, with a silent prayer that she might ever be as joyful as now. Having told her secret, her mind was free and she in mediately retired, and in a few moments was in ! a sweet slumber, while I remained in my smt till morn ing, when 1 went out and took a long walk, hoping the morning air would cool my fevered brow —when 1 re turned to the house, one of the girls exclaimed, with astonishment, “why Jennie have you been to take a walk after such a night’s fatigue, and with your paity dress on too, Ido believe you have not slept at all.” 1 wiis obliged to make sundry excuses and explanations, lor sooth to say, 1 had entirely forgotten to change my dress. How ardently I now longed for the period of our visit to expire,-which one day before 1 would have glad ly extended to months or years! At length my bro ther made his appearance in IJ. and in a day or two alter his arrival, we again entered the stage conch to return home. In the few weeks I had been absent, was crowded the happiness and misery of years, for I ‘’ had been blessed’ in my dream of love. We seem ed different beings, Bell and myself, from what we had been a week before, that is to say, we seemed to have changed characters, for after the sadness of part ing with our kind entertainers, and with Murry par ticularly, had wore oil, Bell was full of mirth and joy and I continued to appear as cheerful as I could, but at times my gloom was so great my brother and Bell remarked it, aud wondered why I had “the blues.’’ Murry and Bell parted betrothed lovers, lie was to visit her in a few weeks, aud then a time was to be appointed for their bridal. The second day after leav ing Judge T's. wc again saw our native village. I felt like a weary wanderer returning from exile—sad, disheartened and weary. -I was glad only to be again at home and at peace. “There’s rest when hope is gone.’’ Bell lived about a mile from me, and she went immediately to her father's house. The ensuing day 1 arose feverish and ill, and before night was in a confirmed fever, with very dangerous symptoms. The tension and exciterncut of mind 1 had endured, together with my careless exposure of myself to the night air, the evening or rather morning of the party, were doubtless the cause of my illness, I lay for many weeks ill in body and mind, and desiring nothing but death ! but he came not. lie comes not when we de sire his presence. I was extremely thankful that I was not delirious during my sickness, for I did not wish to have the secret of nay unrequited love known. When I recovered sufficiently to travel, my parents took me to Saratoga,and to visit some friends in N. Y. 1 recovered slowly, and being urgently invited to re main with my friends during the winter, my parents finally consented. My tale is nearly done. I returned homo in the Spring utterly changed in feeling. From a gay and gladsome girl Iliad become a sad woman, so that my former fiiends said they could scarcely recognize mu. I learned that Murry had visited Bell twice during my absence, and- the following June, one year from the time of our visit to B. she was to be married. Bell desired me to officiate in the capacity of bridesmaid, and I consented to do so. When the time arrived, 1 met Murry with perfect calmness. In fact I had con quered my ill fated attachment, but “what deep wound ever healed without a sear ?” It had left its impress on my soul, and had influenced my character for aye. Immediately after the bridal ceremony Murry and his wife started off to the Springs, Lake Champlain, &c., for a wedding tour,and I did not see them again for years, but more of that, anon, gentle reader. Ifyou have read thus far, and are not one of the wor thy sisterhood yclept “ old maids ’ don t “turn u; your nose’’ (classically speaking) because you are read ing the trials—a portion of them—of one ol the num ber. Learn to respect their good qualities, aud to be lieve they are as worthy as married ladies. I have known one or two (!) admirable old maids. But to conclude. Tlte fall after Bed was married I left my own Green Mountain State for the ‘‘sunny South, and 1 did not return to the North for nearly four years. When I did return, I went, after a while, with my dear friend Lottie to visit .Mrs. Murry, who had moved to a neighboring village. They lived in a nice white cottage, and I was told were in a prosperous condition. Bell met us rather coolly, and then, before sbe invited us to sit or remove our travelling gear, one of her two brats set up such a squall, at the sight of us, that she sat down to hush it without paying any farther attention to us, and while she sat there, I looked at her faded face and thick squabby figure with astonishment. Af ter the little responsibility was soothed, with the aid of a large piece of cake, she coolly invited us to remove our bonnets. We had been travelling many miles, and it was nearly dinner time, but no invitation did we receive to eat nndrefrcsh ourselyes ; Presently Mur ry came in. lie greeted us cordially, gild urged us to remain. We of course refused, and how perfectly as tonished I was, that I had ever loved him. Where were his glossy curls ? his white teeth, (alas I he used tobacco now ■’) and where his fascination of manner ? I shrewdly suspect they had existed in my own imagi nation more than elsewhere. And thus it is with our sex. We love, and we fancy the beloved object is per feet. Alas! we are soon undeceived. Lottie and my* self bade the Murrys a cool adieu, and I thought to niyself, as I gave the parting hand t> my dear friend Bell, “sic transit ’’ the friendship of schools girls. My tale is done. “Would it were worthier.’’ AUNT JENNY. For the Georgia Citizen. Recent Revolutions. BY REV. P. G. BEARBOAX. The keen observers who arc fond of remarking up on the “ spirit of the age,” n ust hav i been struck with the frequency of rcuolutions which have occurred within the past few years. The many volumed annals of the world which look down upon us from library shelves seem to present but a continuous panorama of fighting armies and conquest, marching generals—and seem to teach us that the former education of nations consisted only in acquiring the brilliant accomplishments of warfare. But the unwritten history of the middle ! of the nineteenth century, will be one of internal con flicts, of contests between governments and the gov erned—of struggles on the part of hoary despotisms to preserve their power and on the part of the people to “ resume the sovereignty” which had been wrested from them. The successful example of that revolution which gave birth to the “model republic’’ lias reacted upon the continent of Europe, with terrific power, and stirred up from their lowest depths its swarming mil lions. France has,since IS 17, passed through strange vi cissitudes. One day, and the King of the French trod his palace a powerful ruler. They next saw him a stricken wanderer—his hoarded treasures confiscated, the defences, by which he vainly hoped to preserve hi power for a successor, worse than useless. A Provi sional Government was hastily formed, and the Em pire was called, a Republic. The prestige of a name placed an ambitious Prince, at its head, whose first taste of power, awoke to renewed energy the imperial longings which had marked his early career. During his administration, a tumultuous assembly has viqjved all his acts, with a jealousy akin to that which finally overthrew Charles, the First, and lie has returned the feeling with more prudence but more hatred than bis prototype. Strenuous efforts have been made to have the constitution amended, that be may be eligible tore election. The failure of this maneuvre, has turned his rage upon the Press, and restrictions and censor ships, and fines and imprisonments have trammeled its freedom. He has gone farther than Austria or Prussia in his vindictive proscription of that power, tyrants so much dread. Such have been the changes of this chameleon republic, but a Gordian knot still binds the destiny of France, which Louis Napo leon must sever with the sword, before he wears the im perial crown. Germany lias been the theatre of revolution, and bloodshed. Prussia lias magnanimously granted cer tain immunities and privileges to her subjects, and thus escaped the fury of an aroused people, resolved to ob tain their rights. Austria points to the Magyar Rebellion, where the antagonist principles of despotism and liberty met iu deadly embrace. The Hungarian struggle for inde pendence, though disastrous in its result, lias been most powerful in its influence. It lias planted a hope in the heaits of the oppressed of Europe which shall yet bloom in happy fulfillment, and created in our bo soms an absorbing sympathy for their unmerited misfor tune. The splendor and celat with which lhe cam paign was opened—the immense armies that were ne cessary to crush their spirit of Hungary, and the un expected treachery which blasted like a thunderbolt, have invested the Magyar Revolution with an interest almost romantic. Italy too has struck a blow, seemingly, as if fired by a spark from that vestal altar of Republicanism, which has been kept burning beneath her sunny skv, for fif teen hundred years, on the monument elift’ of San Marino. With an opulence of classic association, that attracts and inspires the citizen of distant climes, she has existed as a cluster of petty sovereignties—without influence and power, and with nothing great, but the weakness of her degenerated race. Suddenly, the Pope is driven from his throne, to be as suddenly rein stated —and now he occupies his scat, sustained by the presence of a foreign soldiery. Spain and Portugal, whose voice is scarcely heard in the Councils of Europe, have each trembled beneath the stock of fraternal blows, and have set examples of misrule and revolution, which have been imitated by their Western offspring, both of North and South America. Turkey, effete and barren as she seemed, lias recently been startled into new life aad vigor, by the galvanic touch of progress, and we had hoped, she was about to enter upon anew existence. But truly pitiable is her condition now with revolting provinces and rebel leaders defying her, and foreign despots threatening, and an exhausted treasury to supply the “sinews of war.” And China —the walled nation, with its stifling overgrowth of human life, seems to have caught the spirit of Revolution, from the “outside barbarians,”and with a national proclivity to imitation is following aeeu- j ratclv the bloody copy. Other nations have witnessed similar outbreaks and have added further confirmation as to the correctness of our position. But let us turn from these examples, to the most recent page of our national history, and find there, themes for profound reflection, and contrasts most gratifying to patriotism. The ceaseless swell of the ocean which prevents it from becoming a vast, stagnant, tideless pool breeding pestilential vapors, becomes at the bidding of the tempest, an uncontrolled agent of, destruction. So the discussions of pasties, by which the American mind is kept watchful and jealously alive to its great interests—may in the agitation of momen tous questions, become a terrific power. Sitiee the pe riod, which has witnessed the uprooting of ancient thrones, and the triumph of Absolutism in Europe the United States have emerged from a fearful peril. The great epidemic, which ha swept so widely, has passed over our land. In other countries, its course has been marked by blood, by a shutting down of the flood gates of industry, fratricidal scenes, and war, and ruin. Hereditary oppression has asserted its prescrip, tive right to rule, and whispered back to their habitual level, the “common herd.” But here, a great con test has raged, yet the hum of the mill, and the hearty song of labor hav# never ceased. The discordant ele ments have been quieted, without an appeal tothesword. The felt obligations of duty, the precepts of reason aud the silent but powerful decision of the ballot box. have settled what in every other nation, would have lighted the torch of civil war aud arrayed brothers and kinsmen in hostile ranks. The government lias calmly and impartially held its protecting tegis over all and shown no disturbing fear, when threats were made for its destruction. What “king,’’ or “power,” or “ ruler of all the tribes of men'’ that would brook avowed enmity to his sceptre and treat with forbearance those who openly plotted his overthrow ? What “ sovereign” that would be seemingly indifferent to any hostile demonstration of Bis people ? Where is the “ Prince’’ or “Emperor’’ that would permit undisturb ed preparations, foA a bloody struggle, to be made’w ith in his borders, the undenied object of which was to wrest from his power a portion of his domains, Yet of all those extraordinary anomalies has our government, the offspring of our constitution—been guilty, and instead of verifying the language of those who term it a “splendid failure’’ it now stands a monu ment of wisdom. The most respected government in the world—while with filial obedience it reflect* all “entangling alliances"’ and represses all the officious interference of foreign cabinets, it can with self-sustain ing dignity use language, rather too republican iu its simplicity, for the studied politeness of the Kuropean diplomatists. It moves with the silence and precission of a machine and the intelligence and discretion of a mind. T his is the simple cause which has made us so great a people. May the cause be perpetual. For the Georgia Citizen. The Bloomer. “Teque his ixfelix, exuk monstru,” Odd Met. II cnch, that thou art , put off this monstrous garh, ,y MeJui ttng, last evening, as is my wont upon the degeneracy o! the times, and the changes, for the worse which have occurred within syy own recollection, I happened t east my eyes in their speculative wander ings upon the fantasiic dress of my grandmother which hung upon the chamber wall, displaying to much ad vantage the long train and bombard sleeves, that had once made my well favored and highly respectable an cestress, no little vain. In those days, when this vete ran garment figured in all the splendor of Huff and Farthingale, ou- greatly to be pitied mothers were de plorably ignorant of the intimate sympathy existing be tween short skirts and woman’s rights, and most proba bly the good old lady, innocent of philosophy, would have shunned the teachings of Abby Kelly as infectious or turned the cnbrecched Smith from her doors as likely to corn.pt the tender ideas of her boys. As I imagined the honest astonishment and horror with which tha foolish dame would doubtless have ousted the “brazen faced trollope .” I laughed aloud at the idea of ma dame exercising one of her new found rights in an invitation to coffee and pistols, or in ease of refusal to satisfy her thirsty honor, lathering the rceussant with the delicate cowhide. Bet a few year* ago, I was forced to secede from the lao.es by the tearful fainting epidemic that developed itseit whenever a handsome gentleman was near enough to catch the falling patient. In fact it was gene rally known, though not advertized, that young women especially, could get up swooning fits to suit customers upon the shortest notice. At that time it was a most heinous crime tolnnt at the possibility 0 f the fairer sex ,assessing any single quality of gross humanity: and to dream that they ever ate, drank, walked or reclined, without cavalier assistance would have placed the heed less lover in the same garotte that Lopez f oq „d ao un. comfortable. But ‘ oh, femina semper mutabile''—. the very daughters of these same air bred undine* no longer faint but keep you in equal apprehension of a shot or a horse whip, should you treaJ on a mental corn. And, positively, the fine old widow who has been my partner at every rubber for years, and never once revoked—not once—believe women ought to wear the breech:s and pop questions, and forces on me the trou blous alternative, to take her as partner for life or lose lei as partner for whist. ‘Quousque tandem Catali na abutere nostra patient m ” which translated means, low long shall such cattle abuse our patience.” Oh my rubber, my rubber. As 1 ,1 1US exclaimed, grieving over my tribulations an unvoluntary tear dimmed my eye, wearried nature droop.,], my eyc closeJ) htaJ dropped, the pipe died oat, and before me rose, Sir, the majesty of truth, a vision of the eventuality of Wo man's Rights. I believed woman glorious i„ the possession of her rights, standing side by side with man, “redeemed re generated and disenthralled.” Her long and luxuriant locks had fallen before the steel of progress. Her soft and inviting form had lost the delicacy and as sumed the coarseness of man. Her face no longer the star of worship, her manners no longer the solace of suffering. The curious waddling of her gait betrayed the newness of the costume and her voice was rough and unharmonious. She had grasped her destiny, and every portal of man was open for her reception. She doctored, she plead, she commanded and she fought, hut alas for human contentment, the cruel Masons, ob jects of her youthful hate, still refused to pollute the hall dedicated to manly virtues by admitting the tailing drove to their counsel. She stood beside the couch of pain, and her angel hand no longer soothed the sufferer’s P-Ilow but sternly performed the operation. Upon the tierce steed she thundered o’er the field, of the wounds inflicted by her iron heeled charger. And midst the flowery paths of heart softening polities and law, she moved majesty and pride. 1 viewed her tl.us- W.thout the Strength of man or the beauty of woman, a conscious instance of mistaken destiny, But lu ! a change Afodo vir mods fxminu,” Madame the doctor luts.thc vapors, she can’t come. General Polly is dumpish, the enemy must positively wait for the bat tle till she is well. Colonel Mary is nursing, will the gentleman call again, and Captain Sake is in a very delicate position, her ship cannot sail till.—But lord a I she M oreester Convention would screech to hear tell hat, and 1 )i. Hunt would^ feel a decided tendency to fnnt. “ Admissi speetatuin tene.atis risum.” May my vision always be a dream. * 1 have an insuperable objection to woman's become coming practitioners of any of the learned professions, .f she were a lawyer the law would invariably turn towards the prettiest advocate. If a judge, she would always decide for the highest Collar, or emptiest head of curls, if a doctor, poison would lose its virtue from her hands, and we must whistle for the better part of the dispensatory, and if a preacher, I would ask with martial, “Si leo tu fueris qualis leo crt>,” which is to say, if you are a preacher you be .The history- of bullion would probably form one of the most curious i° f all volu,T,w . a knowledge of the causes of va j rious changes would certainly be no less interesting. Our precise forefathers were equally changeable and infinitely more grotesque in their habits, than we are, and when I remember the huge hoop and towerlike ruff that enclosed our poor mother’s corpus. I cannot help thinking ,t possible that the strange incubus of Bloomer dresses may fall upon us. If it docs, I sin *” ‘ P 3ll * 1 ’ w i!i be tights, or else knee bree- C ’ 11 fo,nK * r days, patches were introduced bo cause t•i - \ \\ere found convenient to bide a mole, and on of tlie I u.lor queens invented bishops, to hide an uneven hip. Huge wigs, flowing in perpetual train tq the waist of the wearer, were made to conceal tha round shoulders of Louis Le Grand, and in the same ••go the pur. tin Des Caures predicated the damnatiou : of many pretty souls upon the fact that they wt*e trains so long, they required maidens in the outer rooms to support them. Beaus stuffed out their clothes with meal bran, and ladies wore huge hoops. Sir Walt’s Raleigh saith, lie “ would reyther site the Spaniard, than board one of these pretty pieces.’’ 1 remember that the late Alexander of Russia ordered his Cossacks to lop oft all [>ar:s of the pantaloons below the knee, and a man's calf depended upon the skill of a barba rian in trimming the bark of s tree without touching the rind. The ladies of Worcester doubtless fancy that free dom from restraints of dress is synonymous with the attainment of their own rights. And so thought the British Parliament w hen to break the spirit of the Highlanders they ordered them to leave off their na tural dress and wear breeks. But permit me to say to them Unit the Swab an squaw wears an Bloomer, and is yoked to the cart with the sieir. X>, jS t O. 35