Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
MERCHANT TAILORING
ESTABLISHMENT.
fTMIE subscriber respectfully informs his auiucrons patrons
I ami the public generally, that he is now receiving at his
fttore on Gotten Avenue, neit doorabove Ur. Win. G. Little's
prug Store, a splendid assortment of French and English
BU<IAD-OLOTHS, Cassiineres and Vestings, embracing the
latest and most desirable styles of the season,such as rjcotch,
Tartan Plaid, French and English plain,black, figured and fan
cy poeskins, Velvets, Plush, Grenadine, London figured em
broidered Silks and Cassimere Vestings, which be will sell by
the Pattern, or make to order, in the latest and best style, at a
reduction from former prices of at least ten per cent, for cash
jn all cases.
sepL>7 TIIOS. F. NEWTON.
IT'AXS, of fine, medium and common qualities, a large
supply at K. J ..JOHNSONS’
32 2
S ffl Bddcn’s Lute Style of Moleskin HATS.
Also, Geuin's Fall Styles, a good article,
septd? BELDEN &: CO.
tolib’s Digetil.
r I above Digest of the J.aws of Georgia, for sale at
L ang-'3 BOA RDM AN’S.
Sip of the Bin Boot!
* THE subscribers tliank-
II i f:il for past favors, and so
“ / lfeitons for a continuance
of the same, would respect-
Jt - fully inform their friends
j • J *iilH fPa and former patrons and the
Mgß * public generally that they
have now in store, one of
f the largest and best select
ed stock of ROOTS and
SHOES, mostly of their own manufacture, of all the various
kinds and qualities usually called for, to which they would
invite the attention of all those wishing to purchase, and we
assure all those that call that wo nre prepared to sell as low as
any House in the city or Jytate, all which is warranted as us
ual. oct 18 MIX ii KJUTLAND.
/ 1 TINTS’ Fine French Calf Boots, Welted and Pump
\ T Soles, also Gents’Fine Double and .Single Soled Boots,
ust received, and for sale by MIX & KIRTLAND.
I>rniiEß$ —t hose wishing a very superior article in
A. the Rubber line, are informed that we have in store a
large supply of L. Oaiylee Rubbers which are thought hy com
petent judges, to eaeel any thing of tlie kind in the United
tftates, in style and fineness of finish, for sale low by
pet 13 MIX & KIRTLAND.
v A. Notice.
‘< THE proprietor of the Crockery
Iff Store, in this city, is induced, sole-
A- *. v from interested motives, to give
notice to the public generally, that
after this day no goods will be sold
on a CREDIT. oct 18 CEO. JONES.
Piano Forte ami Organ Tuning:and liepairing.
OIL RICE would inform his patrons, that Macon is to
• be his permanent home, all reports to the contrary not
witlisianding. He has bought a bouse and lot in Vineville.
He is now ready to tune and repair Piano Fortes, Organs,
Seraphims, Aeolian Attachments, and Melodians. Pianos
tuned in the city for So, only for those who employ him regu
ariy every year. Pianos tuned by the year for SlO. All re
pairs ertra. It is very hard for some to understand the diffe
rence between tuning and repairing. Tuning, is making the
string harmonize, by drawing them to certain tensions, with
a timing key. AH other operations, are repairing—such as
re-leatliering the hammers, putting on new strings, putting on
new cloth on the dampers and key bed, putting in new jack
spring, re leathering the levers.&C., Ac.
.Mr. R. will examine instruments, and make known his
charge for putting them in order, it any desire it. Names
may be'.eft at Messrs. Virgins, or Mr. 8. B. Day’s. oct-,'5
GROCERY, PROVISION AND
i-’i: nr stoIS 13 .
a THE subscriber feels thank- .cSiEgIQI
to riis friends for past favors
and would inform them that
lie still continues the Gao-
very, Provision and Frcit Business in front *f the
angle of 2d St. and Cotton Avenue. .Macon, Ga. o*l
hand, and constantly receiving New York llams,
Smoked Reef. Dried and Pickled Tottjnies, .Mackerel
No 1.2 and 3, Pickled Beef, (Fulton Market) Pig
and Mess Pork, Sugar, Coffee, Molasses. Syrup, Rice,
Tea, Potatoes, Onions, Raisins, Prunes, Dates, Nuts
of all kinds, Cheese, Crackers, Vinegar, Lamp-Oil,
Mustard, Lard. Rutter, Flour. Soap. Candles, Candies,
Scgarg, Lillenthrals 11. -Johns. Harry of the West,
Four Aces, and Spencers best Cliewinjr Tobacco, for
Kile by (oct 8) J. S. GRAY BILL.
New Goods! New Goods!
WM. B. FERRY & CO.
MCALKKS IN
<£2s
Triangular Block, (near Logan's Cor.)
iqj-i ARE now receiving their Fall and Win
ter Stock embracing all the most rich and
V~ jt-H desirable Goods to be found in the market
North, which will be offered to the trade at
reduced prices. The citizens of Macon and
the surrounding country are respectfully invited to call and ex
amine their Goods. sept 27
CRiminißMlM!!
p VRHART, IIRO. & CO., now have in Store I
V - ati I are and niv receiving a very large and selected stock of
GROCSniES of every description, which they \vill*ell
n the I,.■< lerms for C.ISHot approved names,Hnd to which
they Invite the attention of Merchants, Planters and Consu
mers.
They will at aP times be found at their Store, prepared to
give their personal attention to Customers.
;T No Drum tilers employed to annoy Merchants and
Planters atthe Ware-Houses anil Hotels.
ept6 ts CARHART BRO. & CO.
Likenesses!
gttjfJcMi c * “•l* v RKER has returned’to I
~7 “ ’ Macon, and taken Rooms over Dr. Little’s
lirug Store, where he is prepared to take LIKENESSES in the
best style of the art, at low prices. octlß
JEW DAVID’S HEBREW PLASTER.
IMJK great remedy for Rheumatism, Gout, Pain in the Side
flip, Back, Limbs and Joints ; Scrofula, King's E\ it, White
Hard Tumors, Stiff Joints and all fixed pains whatev
er.
Where this Plaster is applied. Pain cannot exist. It has
been beneficial in cases of weakness such as Pain and Weak
iin the Stomach, Weak Limbs. Lameness, Affection o the
f '; inc. Female Weakness, Ac. No female, subject to pain or
weakness m the back or sides, should be without it. Married
lames, in delicate situations, find great relief from constantly
“caring the Piaster.
The application of the Plaster between the shoulders has been
found a certain remedy for Colds Coughs, Phthisic, and Affec
tion of the Lungs in their primary stages, it destroys inllama
tien by perspiration.
Hie following commendation is from an agent residing at
Trenton, Tcnn.:
Trenton, Gibson Cos. Tenn. Nov. 7, ’l9.
Messrs. Scovil A Mead—-Gentlemen : The Hebrew Plaster
is becoming popular in this section. There is a Lady in this
county who says she would not be without the Plaster for five
hundred dollars a year. She was afflicted for some time with
an enlargement of the spleen, which gave her great pain. The
swelling and pain had extended tip nearly to the armpit, and
occasionally she could hardly breathe. She was confined for
a considerable time, during which she was attended by some of
‘mr best physicians, but they gave no relief. She procured a
box of the Hebrew Plaster, and it relieved her almost immediate
ly, and now she keeps a supply of it on hand constantly,—
These facts you are at liberty to use as you think proper—they
ar e substantially true. Respectfully, yours. Ice,
JESSE J. WELLS.
Beware of Counterfeits and Base Imitations!
Faction.—The sunscribers are the only general agents in the
Southern States for the sale of this truly valuable Plaster ; and
in order to prevent purcliasers being imposed upon by a counter
feit article, sold in this city and elsewhere, for the genuine, they
invite particular attention to the following marks of the genu
ine :
1. The genuine is put up in smooth, engine-turned bottomed
boxes, soldered in.
2. The genuine has the engraved head of Jew David on the
directions around the box, with accompanying record of court
to E. Taylor, Rochester.
ALSO TAKE NOTICE
“hat the genuine has the signature of E. TAYLOR on the steel
plate engraved label, on the top of each box—to imitate which,
’•HI be prosecuted as forgery.
~ J/\£? Unterfeit 18 coarspl >’ bn* up, in imitation of the old
the .ennine^ 1 by BCveral dealers in medicine in this city for
* WOVIL fr B £ V .^ RE OF IT ~IT IS WORTHLESS.
Only Agents for the Southern SL, N. Orleans,
plication for agencies must invariably be as-Uessed. SWL'ft’
bo by Payne & Xisbet, E. L. Strohecker and * 11. & W. J-
Ellis, Macon, Ga. nova
fc Stosinrsa Carts
R. L. WOOD,
Ii UiERREOTYPIST,
MACON. GA.
KW ENTRANCE FROM TIIE AVENUE.
aprl9 ts
RAILROAD HOUSE,
OPPOSITE CENTRAL RAILROAD DEPOT
EAST MACON.
s’ l ts s. M. LANIER.
JACK BROWN.
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BUENA VISTA, MARIO* CO., GA.
apr 12 1y
P. G. ARRINGTON,
Attorney at Law and Notary Public,
Oglethorpe, Ilacou Cos.,
dec G E (< 1 A . 38—ts
city hotel,
SAVANNAH,•.•.•.•••.•.•.•.•.•.•.•GEORGIA.
P. CONDON.
Thumb:—Transient Boarders, per day, §1.50. Monthly and
yearly Boarders in p.oporiion. apra—y
©IIOSIME A, LO©MRi\ME #
Slttnrnni nt lain,
OFFICE OVER BELDEN AND CO’s. HAT 6TORE,
Mulberry Street, Macon, Georgia.
HARDEMAN <fc HAMILTON,
Ware House and Commission Merchants,
M/ICOX, GEORGIA.
HAMILTON & HARDEMAN,
FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
SJIEA.Y.YAJt. GEORGIA.
Will give prompt attention to all business committed to them
at either place.
TIIOS. HARDEMAN. ( 19-ts ) CHAS. F. HAMILTON.
FACTORAGE AND
©335353333333 3SS33SS3S3
Savannah, G-a.
1 TTM. p. YONGE, No. 94 Bay strept. Savannah, continues
YY to transact a General Commission Business and Factor
age, and respectfully solicits consignments of Cotton, Corn,
and other produce. He will also attend to receiving and for
warding Merchandize. —
April 5,1851 ly
W. D. ETHERIDGE & Cos.,
FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
SA l A.Y.Y. IH. G EORGI I.
7TMIE undersigned having formed a Copartnership for the
L transaction of the above business, tender their services
to their friends and the public generally and solicit a share of
patronage. We will pay strict attention to the sale of Cotton
or other produce consigned to our care and all orders for Bag
ging, Hope and family supplies will be promptly attended to
and filled at the lowest prices. Liberal advances will be made
upon Cotton or other produce consigned to us.
s. f. gove, (aug23-y) w. n. ethkuidde.
” iRAiyKi, jmTOKi &©©.,
Factors A Commission YScrcliasits,
aug.3o SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. —Cm
FIELD dr ADAMS.
FIRE-FROOF WAREHOUSE,
MACON, GORGIA.
rpuE undersigned will continue th* Ware-Hovse and Com
1_ mission ItrsiNKStf, at the commodious and well known Fire
Proof Building, formerly occupied by Dyson & Field and the
past season by us. The attention of both the partners will be
given to all business entrusted to their care. They respectful
lly solicit the patronage of the publiy generally. They are pre
pared to make liberal cash advances on all Colton in store at
the customary rates.
a j?” All orders for Groceries, Bagging and Rope will be fill
ed at the lowest market prices. JOHN M. FIELD,
aug9 ts A. B. ADAMS.
SASH AND WINDOW BLIND
MTV “ft fy \ rn D'q <r* ‘T <£-> Is* <->
r|THF- subscriber is manufacturing the above articles by
J Steam Machinery, at very moderate prices.
TURNING AND PLANING.
He has machinery for this business, and will promptly exe
cute any jobs in this line. ALEX. McGRKGOK.
JulyS# - 0m
fire insurance
nv THE
COMMERCIAL INSURANCE COMPANY
OF CHARLESTON S. C.
CAPITAL $2 >O,OOO—ALL PAID IN.
Wm. li. Heriot, Pres A. M. Lee. Sec’y.
Directors :
James K. Robinson, Geo. A. Trenholm, Robert Caldwell,
A. R. Taft, Henry T. Street, Wm. Mcßurney, J. H. Crawley,
T. L Wragg.
rpuE subscribers having been appointed Agents for the
| above Company, are now prepared to take risks against
Fire, on*favorable terms. CAUHART, BRO. & CO,
junc2l Agents.
DRS. BANKS & ROOSEVELT tender their
professional services to the citizens of Macon and sur
rounding country.
Residence on College Hill, the house formerly occupied by
Charles Day. Offiee on the corner of Third and Walnut street.
W. H. BANKS, M. D. (sept6-y) C. J. ROOSEVELT, M. D.
R. G- JEFFERSON & CO.
mascfacturer and wholesale dealers in
CHAIRS,
West Side Broad St., first door above P. M'Larin's,
COLUMBUS, GA.
THEY keep on hand an excellent supply of Office, Wood
Scat, .Split Bottom and Rocking Chairs; Bedsteads, Wood
en Ware, Sec.
fr-y All Orders left as above, will meet with prompt atten
tion. novl—tf
TV. S. WILLIFORD,
COMMISSION MERCHANT AND AUCTIONEER,
Macon, Ga.
All kinds of Produce and Merchandise, (except liquors) re
ceived on consignment. sepC7
S. & R. P. HALL,
ATTORXEYS AT LAW ,
Macon, G a.
Office on Cotton Avenue, over Little's Drug Store, (octll)
Notice.
VLL persons indebted to the late firm of TA\ LOR & ROFF
byofen account or note, are solicited to call at the old
stand and s-ttle without delay. nol-2m TAYLOR &. ROFF.
Dry Goods and Groceries,
THE subsiriber offers for sale at his* >d stand on Cotton
Avenue,a general assortment of Sta, It 1 and Fancy Dry
Goods, consisting in part of the following articles: Cassiineres,
Broadcloths, /.lapacas, DeLains, Calicoes and Homespuns,
Ready made Or,thing and Jewelry.
Also a finestpply of Groceries, and almost every other ar
ticle suited to ci.v and country customers. His goods are re
ceived at short irtervals, and may be relied upon as being both
fresh and fashiomble, and are offored very low for Cash,
octll—Cm GEO. EHRLICH.
‘ITtTHOLESALE Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware &c.
Y Y at low pricct and reasonable terms or liberal discount
or cash. foc4) 8- F. DICKINSON.•
PRINTING PRESS FOR SALE.
A tOOD second hand Imperial PRINTING
u jFi'pSgf r\ IRESS, in good order, will be sold a bnr
fat*, or. immediate application at this Office.
I ‘ Ris large enough to work a paper of the size
l “(jgorgia Citizen.’’
” Snitepenfrrat in nil tilings —Imlrnl in nntljing”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 10, 1852.
From tlie Memphis Enquirer.
THE “GREAT RIVER.”*
BY L. VIRGINIA SMITH.
Strong, deep, resistless, through Columbia’s heart,
Thou rollest, mighty river, coursing on
Like some great, shining thought, Omnipotence
lias wakened in its depths.
Sublime, serene,
Through summer’s gorgeousness, or winter’s gloom,
M hen glassing back the sunshine, or the dark
Ami tempest-tossed battalions of the sky ;
And, like a great soul, beautifully calm,
W hen star-showers fall, as though the frenzied gods
Would weep upon thy bosom tears of flame.
Most beautiful art thou, majestioal
And panoplied in grandeur, by repose,
As others by the tempest. Thine is not
The crested multitude of warrior-waves
That boom and battle on (he “stormy Gulf}”
llie wild Atlantic billows, shivered white
Upon deceitful breakers, murmuring
Low curses round their torturers ; nor yet
The rush of rapids, gloom and glory blent,
Where might and madness struggle in the heart
Os dread Niagara. But glorious
And lovely as the “Milky Way,’’ the stream
Os light that courses through a starry land
And far bey ond the night-cloud, is to thee
V\ hat loves of heaven are to tlie loved on earth !
Thou, too, art flowing through the “ land of stars,’’
A blessed bond of “ Union never may
Its links be sundered, till the sky-stream fades
In ether, and its golden shores dissolve
To nothingness 1
Tell us, when far away
In Time's gray dawning, still the nations slept,
Did’st thou all proudly cleave the wilderness,
As sweeps a mighty vision through the brain
Os slumbering Titan ? Tribes of long ago,
Whose jmth of empire lies amid the clouds
Os mystery, have fled, and left no voice
To whisper of their glories. Warrior-chiefs,
V\ hose council-circle on thy margin shone,
The Indian maid, whose shallop swept thy wave,
Swift as the swallow’s pinion, too have passed
As foam from off the billow. Now the Power
That rules au iron-artermed domain,
Sails with the steam-fiend, chains the fiery tongue,
Whose voice is in the hurricane, and makes
A slave of wild Impossibility
The Genius of iny country furls his wing
O’er thy broad bosom. Still thou art the same,
And hoary centuries shall fall, like plumes
Slow-dropping from the weary wing of Time,
Yet leave thee changeless, proud and stately stream.
No haughty heights are here, like those that pour
Red lava to the equinoctial sun ;
No mural palisades of iron ice,
As curb tlie surges of the frozen Pole ;
Yet one may stind on thy long, wooded shores,
And, from the summit of some mountain thought
Gaze forth upon a continent of Time;
Beholding, too, how dark behind it lies
‘Eternity inscrutable—before,
Eternity incomprehensible.
Thou hast a voice, proud river ; and my soul
Springs forth to meet its lessons, like a child
To meet its mother’s smile. Thu morning brings
Thy soft, clear hallelujah, and my heart
Echoes in union, “ praise God ! praise God ! ’
The deep meridian rcigucth, light snd strength
Have met upon the waters, teaching me
That power is only greatness when ’tis blent
With truth immutable. ’Tis midnight lone;
Y et, bearing on the steamer’s stately form,
I hear thy never-resting waters flow,
And murmur as they glide, “ Oh 1 weary not:
Life lies in action, and the use of Time
Is Destiny 1”
* [lt lias been decided tliat the name Mississippi is composed
of two words: Messes (great) and Skfpe (river); consequently
the original signification is the “Great River,” and not tlie
“Father of Waters.”] — Memphis Engle.
■ i ..ii ........I - -i n— i
From the National Era.
The Lost anil Found.
A story lor Thanksgiving Day.
BY MARY IRVING.
‘ Hoowa for Thanksgiving Day,’ chiruped a
fat three-year old boy, bursting into Fanner
Talbot’s warm kitchen in his night-gown, lie
was trying to unlock two bright blue eyes, that
sleep iiad sealed up pretty freely, and cut quite
a ludicrous figure with his stentorian ‘Iloowa?’
‘Bravo Bobby ! bravo!’ laughed the grand
father, from the chimney corner. ‘Try itagain
Bobby, you’ll keep up the honor of the family.
Come here,sir!’
Bobby’s eyes were fairly open by this time
—he had found his mother, and took refuge in
the folds of her check dress, sucking his thumb
in quiet thankfulness. Mamma looked around
from the gridiron she was superintending, with
a gentle smile. The smile seemed rather sad,
methiuks, for the scene and day; but we will
know more of her.
Thanksgiving day was always a joyous time
at Grandfather Talbot’s, not more for its tur
keys, puddings, and pies—though (softly be it
spoken) Grandmamma Talbot and her daughter
did excel all other grandmammas and aunties
at roaster —in the estimation of the grand-chil
dren, large and small. But Farmer Talbot and
his ‘gude wife’ were staunch old Puritans—
two of that good old stock w ith w hich our bless
ed New England shores were planted. The
stock has been grafted with many other, and
foreign shoots since, but is it not still the tree of
our nation's prosperity ? It has long been fash
ionable to ridicule the quaint manners, and the
starched strictness of the Puritans. Children
are taught to picture them for ever conning a
psalm book with a nasal twang —as the dead
ly foes to all cheerfulness and meriment. Is not
this almost treason to the memory of the Pil
grim fathers who sleep beneath us ? Foes to
the wild exuberance of untamed spirits, they
were indeed—and often too prone to stretch
every mind to their statute of opinion or feel
ing. But they were a cheerful race. The hap
piest, yes, the merriest Thanksgiving day was
spent beneath the roof of a staunch Puritan old
lady, one of the few that linger like sombre
ever-greens in autumn, among the more gay
and careless of this generation.
Farmer Talbot kept Thanksgiving day re
ligiously as well as cheerfully. Good patriarch!
He iniodit be forgiven the pride with which he
glanced around on his several children, with all
their little ones around him, and then lifted up
his hand to bless heaven in their behalf. But
for three years, ever since the little Bobby had
been a sunbeam to bless the good old man’s
hearth, there had been a shadow, too, upon it—
a gentle shadow—but a sad one. That shadow
was the graceful mother of the child, the favor
ite daughter of the family.
Adelaide Talbot was beautiful and lovely in
her youth, dearly beloved by all,, but best by
those of her own fire side circle. YVhen the
long lashes were lifted from her ever changing
cheek, you could look into the very soul of the
high-minded and sunny hearted girl. Sixyears
ago she stood in father’s low parlor on Thanks
giving eve ; she had stood between that father
and another to w hose face she lifted her soul
speaking eye, his bride of an hour. And as
the good mother’s raspberry wine, carefully
bottled for the occasion, went round, she dream
ed not that in that cup lurked a demon, that
should yet overthrow the altar just erected.—
Caleb Reynolds was now a drunkard, and a de
serter from liis home. lie had enlisted—it was
thought in an hour oi intoxication— but liis
wife was left to learn X from other lips, lie
went, without one word of farewell, to the plains
of Mexico, and never had she heard of him.—
Poor Adelaide carried her crushed heart back
to her father’s house, longiug only to lay it in
the grave. Have you ever seen a tree in a wes
tern forest , blighted by ’girdling,’ as the woods
men call it--cut oil’from its connection with the
lifegiving earth, and then left to wither for years?
I never pass such a tree w ithout thinking of tlie
slow death of the heart, to which some writer has
strikingly compared it. It was thus that Ade
laide stood among the other plants of her fath
er’s nurture. Have you ever seen, from such
a girdled tree, a young shoot spring out, and
striking down its fibres, form a feeble connec
tion with the bark below, and sustain a nature,
though a sickly life in a tree ? It was thus that
little Robert came to bind a few broken fibres
from her early hopes and dreams of earth.
But we are forgetting our Thanksgiving.—
None of the aunties forgot, however, or the cou
sins, and the time Father Talbot's ‘big sleigh,
had emptied its contents twice upon the old
saltsprinkled stone step, all were brought home
from church—all were there.
All—except two unaccountable stragglers—- j
‘the boys,’ as two striplings nearly six feet con
tinued to be called, who were cultivating the sci- i
dices in a college not many miles away. And
why were they not there ? So questioned ever} 7 j
one ; and grandmamma did not answer—only
wiped her spectacles every two minutes on her
apron and peered out the south-west win
dow.
Meanwhile the new comers were clustering
in the sitting-room, making a merry use of the
interlude between service and dinner. There was
Robert, the eldest son, with his romping fami
ly, and anxious-looking wife. There was Char
lotte—no, nobody knew her by that name —Lot-
tie, blooming in her prime, and managing
her little ones to a charm. There was Phil
lip, the ‘old bachelor, though by no means a |
crusty one. Next him sat a pale, still’ looking ]
cousin, from the next factory village. Last but j
not least—though in truth she was little—was j
the ’school ma’am,’ youngest of her father's
flock, the laughing, fun loving Susie. She was
not beautiful, tis Addie huj’rbocn, but was such
a world of good nature iirher low,.(broad fore
head, an J dim j iled cheek**, that yoft loved her
at first sight. 1 w ill not attempt her portrait,
foj Ido not know that she ever sat still long
enough to have it taken, except in church. This
day she was here and there and every where,
among the children, kissing one, romping w ith
another, and tossing up Robert’s baby, to the
terror of its mamma, and to the delight of the
others.
‘You must let me go to help grandmamma
take up the turkey, indeed you must,’ cried
Susan, laughing, as she pushed through the
troop. One had sprung from the top of the
arm chair to her shoulder, and sat crowing like
a parrot on his perch. As she advanced towards
the kitchen, the outer door was thrown sudden
ly open, and ‘A merry Thanksgiving to you !’
burst from the lips of the intruders, amid the
renewed shouts of the boisterous brood.
‘Bless me, where did you drop from ?’ cried
the mother, dropping the ladle into the coals
with surprise.
4 YV hy, brothers, we never heard your sleigh
bells,’ exclaimed Susan, throwing off her en
cumbrances, aud heartily welcoming the colleg
ians.
‘I dare say not,’ replied Edward, as he kick
ed the snow from his boots.
‘We chartered another sort of vehicle—hey
Will V
‘The fact is,’explained Will, ‘we started by
sunrise this morning, but met w ith a most pro
voking ‘break-down’ by the way. So, not to
be cheated out of our Thanksgiving, we footed
it through the drifts. We’ve lost Parson Wood's
sermon, but we’re in time for mother's dinner,
and I assure you, a walk of eight miles liasgiv
en us a pair of appetites.’
So they set down to dinner at last, all the lov
ing and merry ones. Grandfather hushed them
for a moment, while he lifted liis bronzed hands
over the huge platter, and invoked bountiful
Heaven in a lengthy and fervent ‘blessing.’—
Then followed the usual clattering, and—but I
need not describe it at all; you see it as w T ell as
Ido.
Tlie ‘wish bone,’ (a great prize, that,) fell to
the share of the shyest one, little blue eyed Nel
ly, who carefully wrapped it in her white apron,
as a sacred treasure.
Coz, may I break it with you ?’ screamed her
cousin Harry', from the other end of the table.
‘No, I am going to break it with--’
‘With Aunt Susie, then,’ said the little dove,
nestling timidly by her side.
‘Aunt Susie—ha! ha! Aunt Susie would
look finely breaking a wish bone.’
‘And why not master Harry ?’ said Susan,
merrily. ‘I assure you I have broken more than
one wish bone at this very table.’
‘And did your wishes ever come to pass—
did they ever, Aunt Susie ?’ cried three voices
at once.
‘Yes, did they ever, Aunt Susie ?’ chimed in
Edward, casting up from liis plate a sidelong,
demure glance, that brought bliuhes and dim
ples to her cheeks.
Susie had seen some quiet little flirtations
even under father’s Argus eye. Suddenly her
face grew serious. She caught Adelaide's ex
pression of countenance, as the latter quietly a
rose from the table, and made sorpe excuse for
withdrawing.
The wish bone was broken to a charm—snap
ping exactly in the middle, to the great delight
of the juveniles, who had been rnak' n g bets on
the result. The ‘babies’ w r ent to sleep at the
right Lour precisely, and were packed into the
snug cradle with blankets and pillows. The
elders of the juvenile community were ensconc
ed in a corner to play ‘button’ and the brothers
and sisters clustered in quiet little knots—Wil
liam and Susan sat by the window, not to senti
mentalize over the moonlight that came flick
ering through the fleecy clouds, but to gather
up the threads of old confident tete-a-tetes —
to chat of college scrapes, and—save the mark
—schoolmaster rogueries.
Grandmamma had her knitting, of course—
bless the dear old fingers that bad kept so many
feet warm ! and Susie, the modern substitute,
a crotchet purse to net.
‘William,’ said Susie, lowering her voice at a
pause in the conversation, and glancing up fur
tively,‘what do you think of Addie to-day !,
William stole a glance around. ‘Much tis
usual, is she not ? Poor thing!’
‘See how she sits there with her fingers mov
ing through Bobby's curl's, and her eye fixed
on vacancy!’
‘This was her wedding night, you know.’
‘I tell you, Willie, Addie loves Reynolds
with her whole heart yet, as truly as she pver
did on that evening. She has never spoken liis
name, even to me, since the day when father
forbade it to be ever mentioned in his presence;
but there is something terrible in this statute
i like grief of hers.’
A quick sharp bark under the window arrest
ed the conversation,
‘Be quiet Growler, old fellow, what are you
about?, shouted William ; and he was still.
Dear, silent Adelaide now brought around
the tray of nuts and apples, and every one
sought to make her smile, as she took a share,
but her smile was faint as moonlight on an icy
lake.
Harriet and Nelly has called Aunt Susie
over to the corner to name their apples, and
were quite silent for few moments.
That quick bark from the dog came again,
’ followed by a low, protracted growl. Edward
(jumped to investigate matters, but before lie
i reached the door it opened slowly but firmly,
and a tall pale figure stepped within it.
and looked silently. The sudden paralysis of
surprise bound every voice. A moment more,
and with a faint, desperate cry, Adelaide drop
ped her boy from her lap, and sprang across
the room to —her husband.
As his arms closed around her, and her hand
sunk like a broken lillyon his shoulder. Farmer
Talbot started, as if stung by a bittei memo
ry. liis arm was raised, and his white hair
floated back.
‘Father ?’ It was Susie’s voice choked with be
seeching agony, as she sprang to catch the hand
of the old man. The uplifted arm fell, and all
was hushed for one long moment.
‘Come you as a reformed man, Caleb Rey
nolds?’ and Farmer Talbot’s tones were firm
though quiet.
All hearts seemed to suspend their tlirob
bings.
‘1 do, by the help of God, father, the strang
er solemnly answered.
Farmer Talbot threw the glare of the candle
on his features.
‘Caleb Reynolds never spake like that,’ and
the old man modulated each word, as it to
steady his voice. ‘Have you signed the temper
ance pledge ?’
‘I have signed it, and have kept it tor one
year.’
‘Then, mv son,’ the old man’s hand was ex
tended.’ lie bowed himself and wept like a
child.
But the arms hung loosely around Caleb
Reynolds’ neck , the surprise had been too sud
den, and gentle Adelaide had tainted. Not till
they had won back tlie life-tide to her cheek
and seen her again in the arms of her husband,
turning to him that glance of soul-tull earnest
ness that her early days had worn ; not until
then did others approach to welcome with tear
ful embraces their long lost brother.
‘And this is our boy, Addie, whom I never
saw P murmured Caleb, pressing his lips to
the little round forehead of the sleeper. Ada
laide only replied by her tears.
No questions further were asked, and Caleb
soon spoke of his wanderings. Wounded in
battle, and brought to the point ot death, he
bad listened to the angel reflection. But with
reflection and resolutions came also remorse
and despair. Who should win back to him the
forfeited affections of liis deserted wife ? It
was then that the lessons learned at his moth
er’s knee came, beaming up through the gloom
of years squandered in dissipation, lie went
to the fountain of ‘living waters.’ Having fixed
and finished his term of probation, he bad
sought again his home.
‘I knew,’said he,‘you would all be assembled
here to-night, and i lingered, shivering, long
before I could man my heart to come in among
you.’
‘Brother!’exclaimed more voices than one.
The clock in the corner struck nine. It “as |
the hour of prayer. Farmer Talbot laid bis
hand on the old family Bible, and wiped his
glasses.
‘Come, my children, let us give thanks with
the angels to-night: for this, my son, was dead
and is alive again—was lost and is found.’
Mr. Clay and the Goat. —Almost ev
ery body in Washington City remembers an
old he goat which formerly inhabited Naylor’s
slable on Pensyivania Avenue. This animal
was in all probability the most independent cit
izen of the metropolis, he belonged to no par
ty, though he frequently gave passengers “ stri
king’’ proofs of his adhesion to the “levelling”
principle; for whenever a person stopped any
where in his vicinage, Billy was sure to make
at him, horns and all. The Boys took delight
in irritating this long bearded geutieman, arid]
frequently so annoyed him that h e would make
against lamp posts and trees to thair great
amusement.
One day the luminary of the west, Henry
Clay, was passing along the Avenue, and see
ing the boys intent on worrying Billy into a
fever, stopped, and with his characteristic hu
manity, expostulated with them on their cruel
ty. The boys listened in silent awe to the elo
quent appeal of the great statesman; but it was
all Cherokee to Billy, who—the ungrateful
scamp! arose majestically on his hinder legs,
and made a desperate plunge at his friend and
advocate. Mr. Clay, although he had not “slain
a Mexican,” proved himself too much for his
horned assailant; he seized hoid of both horns
ol the dilpmma, aud then “was the tug of war”
—for Greek had met Greek. The struggle
was long and doubtful.
“Hah!” exclaiiped the statesman, ‘*l have
got yoq fast, you rascal! I’ll teach you better
manners. But boys,” continued he, turning to
the laughing urehiqs, “what shall I do now?”
“Why, trip up his feet, Mr Clay,” said they.
Mr, Clay did as he was told, and after many
severe efforts, brought Billy down on his side.
Here he looked at the hoys imploringly seem
ing to say, “I never was in such a fix before.”
The combatants were nearly exhausted ;
goaty had the advantage, for he was gain
ing br&ith all the while that the statesman was
losing it.
“ Boys, exclaimed he, putting and blowing,
“this is rather an awkward business. What
am I to do now ?”
“Why—don't you know?” said a little fellow
making preparations to run as he spoke—
“ All you’ve got to do is to let go and run like
blazes?”
Tbe Right Side for the Bride.
BY SAMUEL HANSON COX, D. D. BROOKLYN, N. TANARUS,
In the ceremony of marriage, how should
the parties stand, as related to each other?
Ought the bride to occupy the right side of the
groom, or the left ?
This question, though confessedly not of the
most important class, is still considerable. What
ever is worth doiog at all, is worth doing well,
says the proverb; aud a higher authority pub
lishes the universal canon, Let all things be
done decently and in order. Indeed, some cleri
cal scholars, and in theology, chieftains, err
sometimes, by that studied contempt for little
things, which is the result of no wisdom, and
which may become itself great, by the evils it
occasions. If there be a right, in reference to
the question, it may argue no part of our w it or
our virtue to be superior to its investigation and
observance.
Marriage is an ordinance of God. It was
made for the first man and the first woman. Its
origin was paradise. It is neither a human nor
a civil, nor a modern institution, simply, and
alone. Its jimsdiction is over all the species; its
due honor, the welfare and the criterion of so
ciety.
But to the question. Our position is, that
the bride ought, in all cases of honorable mar
riage, to stand, by liis promotive act, on the
right side of her husband, in the ceremonial
scene of their nuptials.
Arguments for the left side we have never
seen. Those that would sometimes claim or
seem to be such, are the following.
1. “The left side is nearer the heart.” If this
nonsense were worth refuting, we could say, he
is nearer her heart when she stands at his right
side ; and if this consideration does not neutral
ize the plea, making it as broad as it is long, it
does more—since it is so important that he
should have the first place of all creatures in
her affections. Bui the adage is only nonsense.
2. “He can reach her better on the left.’’
This objection is practically nothing, or rather
it is positively false. It is not natural or for
ward to put the right hand towards the left, as
it is to extend it in the rectitude of its own di
rection. This, too, is scenically bettor. He does,
and appears to do, all the reaching. He takes
her hand, and he holds it; and tnis is symme
trically seen, and ever prominent, in the spec
tacle. Experience demonstrates the ease, the
nature, and even the elegance, with which a
well bred person, in the action of his marriage
vows, before God, can take the hand of his
loved lady, in a way of the most delicate and
refined propriety, as it regards her sufferance,
and retain it indicatively, till the solemnity is
consummated.
3. “ lie is her head.” Is he ? And there
fore he ought to be meanly jealous of his rights
and prompt to remind her and others of them
in the very soiemization of their glad espousals;
and therefore he should degrade her from the
glory of a wife’s dignity, by consigning her to
the leftside of him ! —and therefore it is worthy
of his magnanimity,on the superb occasion, to
eclipse his lovely bride,r.nd put her into a statfe
of occupation, that himself may be conspicu
ous the head of a woman and the lustrous orb
of the picture! The left side is the wrong .side.
4. “ Hut it is usage.’’ Not always. Custom
varies all over the world. Opinions vary, as
led by caprice, mistaken fashion, taste, ignor
ance, indifference, irieligion, or no one can tell
what.
5. ‘‘But Victoria stood on the left of Prince
Albert?” Did she! Well! there may be many
a right tiling which the Queen of England ne
ver did, and never knew, and never considered.
One consideration there is, which, with us,
is both paramount and conclusive. We will
state it somewhat at large. Let Queens and
Princes clear the way for it. It is the grand
honor of marriage, the best and richest illus
tration both of its nature and its dignity, that
the parties in the scene are in the Holy Scrip
tures, beautifully viewed as the types of Christ
and the church. He that hath the bride is the
bridegroom. The church is called the bride ,
the Lamb's wife. The parallel obtains through
out the inspired volume. It is now an allusion,
now a metaphor, now an allegory, always a
comparison. In Ephesians 5 ; 22—33, it is ex
tensively treated. It is implied in the scenery
of eternal judgment. Matt. 25; 31—decolla
ted with I—l3, and 22: I—l 4, Rev. 19: 7-9.
The Book of Canticles, could it only be transla
ted perfectly, would appear to be a poetical epi
thalamium referring ultimately to the Rord cf
glory and the church of his love in their eternal
espousals; itself incomparatively appropriate,
rich, instructive, and delightful.
But how marked, in the picturesque us every
scene, is the position of this biide! The right
hand is auspicious, as the place of honor, of
promotion, of conspicuity, and of delight. And
she is stationed, in glory and attraction pre
eminent, on his right hand, the moral centre of
the scene, the radiation of his similtude, the re
fieetioii of his glory. And is his dignity les
-1 sened, or his headship obscured as the conse
quence? Is his majesty impaired, or his wor
ship, or the honor of his name, or the love of his
subjects ? Does his bride abuse his favor, or
usurp bis prerogatives ? We can see nothing bqt
propriety and order and loveliness, in such a
substantial pageant of celestial grandeur and
significance.
| Where marriage is duly honored, the sex is
duly honored. Where woman is duly honored,
human nature is duly honored; that is, man i
elevated, society is improved, virtue is illustri
ous, and religion predominates.
The forty-fifth Psalm is a sort* of love. com
posed, it is thought, on occasion of the marriage
l of Solomon with an Egyptian princess. But a
greater than Solomon, or than the daughter of
| Pharoah, is there. It refers not obscurely to
the second Adam, or the Eve of his eternal com
panionship, in the paradise of God; to them
as the worthy and the eternal archeAvpas of
the married relation. The theme is rapturous,
and inspires the poetry of the devout Psalmist.
*’ My heait,” he says, “is inditing a good mat
ter. I speak of the things which I have made
touching the king. My tongue is the pen of a
ready writer.” Then the marriage is descrip
tively solemnized. The king in his glory appears
not alone, but his incomparable consort with
him. And her position is defined in the scene
of glory; it is said, with emphasis and poetry,
in the graphic pictures—“On his right hand
did stand the queen, in gold of Ophir .” She
r, could not mistake her place in the group
.1 glory.
Ihe right hand, with all the oriental nations,
v was the place alsoof good omens, and thesvm
- hoi of prosperity. Os this, to omit many
t* others, we have an example in the book of Luke.
V Lhe father of the holy harbinger of
Christ was officiating in the sanctuary of the
temple as the priest of God, when there ap
peared unto him an angel of the Lord standing
■ on the right side of the altar of incense. If his
- mission had been to denounce the judgment of
• God, instead of heralding his mercy and salva
tion. he would have appeared on the left side
ot the altar. Zacharias therefore olFended
against the typical significance of the scene in
his unbelieving fear, and was rebuked by the
i heavenly messenger. “I am Gabriel, that
stands in the presence of God, and am sent to
speak to thee and show thee these glad tidings.’’
And he sentenced him to be dumb till they were
accomplished.
i rp] * a .
me scene Oi marriage is one of joy and
gladness, as well of solemnity and worship.—
Hence all sinister and left-handed associations
! shou,d b * withdrawn from it; and those of dex
teious and happy implication should alone re
place them. And every wav we argue, as the
bridegroom is the head and* the master of the
occasion, that his bride should be by him pro
moted to the place of honor, of prosperous in
dication and happy occasions, unless he is
ashamed of her, or jealous for his headship par
ticularly, or forgetful of the grand symbolic
import of marriage,or careless of all elegant
and religious proprieties, or incapable of senti
ment and moral beauty, or, finally, one of those
democratic or autocratic simpletons, who will
do w rung in order to show tlieir own indepen
dence, and ‘do some things as well as others,’
or be ‘as free as some folks.’
Ollier arguments, ofa subordinate character,
might he easily adduced. With respect to po
liteness and fashion, however, we have something
to say. I hese will often govern the world when
•ill nobler authorities are powerless. In a far
secondary place, we suppose them only corro
borative, however, of our position here; that
is, in their proper or their best elements of in
fluence.
For four hundred years after—and, indeed
even earlier than the Norman Conquest, and
in their consequences to this day, the uibanity
qnd the court manners ot Europe were regula
ted, directly or indirectly, by the spirit and tho
laws of chivalry. It is but lately, indeed, tlmt
it has generally, not yet totally, ceased to be
la-hionable for a well-bred geutleman to wear
a sword, as a part of his ornamental dress for a
drawing-room, a royal levee, or other social oc
casions of display. But whoever dreamed of
the incongruity, not to say the indignity, stand
ing or walking with a lady,to place her and
his sword together on the left side! When,
however,-she is positioned in the living tableau,
where she ought to be, on his right, and his
sword on the left, they are both comparatively *
safe and at ease, secure from accidents and awk
wardness of a peculiar but ineffable description.
Should he also have occasion to draw the gleam
ing weapon, it acts or flames in front of the lady,
to her innoxious, jvs the armor of her proper
champion, for sallies of defensive or offensive
demonstration, at once her avenger and her
shield. Gentlemen of the army and the navv
wear swords professionally; and to all these,
the propriety of the sword on one side, the lady
on the other, and the man of fidelity and honor
between them, is quite obvious, although “the
age of chivalry is gone ”
VY hen a lady stands or walks with her lord
on his right, her left hand properly siqq>ortsher
dependence, while her right hand is at ease and
tiee for motion, gesture, and action of any sort;
while his right arm sustains the grateful incum
bent in a way of facile preference and nature.
Again, in ail the world, the usage of senti
ment has made the dexter side preferable for
honor, politeness, and address. Our native
language attests its superiority. It is the right
side; and rectitude in idea alone could have
suggested the epithet, now universal in our
Anglo-Saxon tongue, as well as indelible, ‘ex
press and admirable.’ The other is the left —,
because we pretermit or leave it; implying in
feriority, dereliction, oblivion, more suited to ore
left, neglected or forgotten, sine spe , than to the
state ot a chosen bride in the scenery of her es
pousals, by the side of her beloved, in the crisis
of her joys, and while honorably typifying the
glorious church of Christ as she shall be pre
sented to himself, with the gratulation of angel
ic witnesses,in the heaven of heavens.— Chris
tian Parlor Magazine.
A DUTCHM AN’S ANSWER.
Squirt—l say, fellow, can you tell me where
Mr. Swackhamlemf'r, Ihe preacher, livps?
Dutchman —Yaw. You just walk de road to
de crock, and durn de prich over up shtream.
Den you just go on till you gum to a rots what
vinds the woots around a school house; but
you dont take dal road.—Wei!, den you <*o no
till you meet a big-ben shingled rnit straw,
den you turn de road around the field ant go on
till you come to a pig red house all speckled
over iriit vhite an de garret up stairs. Well
dat is mine prodder Han’s house. Den yoq
turn dat house arount de barn, and you see a
road dat goes up in de voods. Den vou don’t
take dat road too. Den you go right’ strait on,
an de first house is a hay stqclj, and de next
is a barrack. Weil, he don't lifdere. Den you
go a little finder, and you see a house on da
top oh a hiil, about a mile, an go in dare an ax
de me voman, and she will tell you better as 1
can.
The Puzzled Dbover.— The Wheeling
Argus tells the following anecdote : A gentle
man who has been driving horses for twenty
years or more, from the West to our Eastern
market, cam** into town with a fine drove of
horses, a part of which were lost on the sink
ing of the unfortunate New York, on the 2ith
nit. He drove hi animals to the livery sta
le here and on counting them missed one ot
their number. He counted again, but found
he was loser, and rode hastiily down to tho
but no intelligence could be obtained
there ot the lost horse. He rode back to the
stables, otlered a reward for the missing beast
and almost gave up in despair of recovering it.
But he soon dismounted his horse he was ri
d.ng, counted again—and lo! the number was
correct. Ho declares he will, never look for the
lost critter again until he lakes a circumspec
tive view ol the one under his saddle.
ft “ “ ’
The Picayune says, in contradistinction tq
the man who walks so fast that it puts his shad
ow out of breath to keep up with him, that there
is a man in New Orleans walks so slow that
his shadow frequently falls asleep on the side
walk.
NO. 41