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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