Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
TEEMS OF THE CITIZEN.
JjgTTwo Dollars, per annum, in ad
vance, or jjffir* Two Dollars and fifty
cents if not so paid.
Advertising and Job cus
tomers allowed a discount of 10 per cent
on regular rates.
rgTAo subscriptions received unless
accompanied with the cash or a respon
sible reference.
Postage must be pre-paid.
Mail Arrangements.
POST OFFICE, Macon. )
February 2, 1832. (j
ON and after this date, the following will he the Mail Ar
rangements at this Office, viz :
The Northern Mail will close at 3 o’clock, P. M.
The Savannah Mail, by the night train, will close at 3 o’clock
P. M.
The Savannah Mail, by the day train, will close at 9 o’clock
P. M.
The Charleston Mail will close at 3 o’clock, P. Mi
The Milledgcville Mail will close at 9 o’clock, P. Mi
The Cciamlms, Mobile, Montgomery and New Orleans Mails,
will close at 9 o'clock P. M.
The Augusta, Griffin, Atlanta, l'orsytji, llamesvillc. Marietta
and Chattanooga Mails w ill close at 8 o’clock, P. M.
The Oglethorpe, Fort Valley, Perry, Albany, UawkinsviUe
and Americus Mail closes at 8 o’clock, P. M.
The Florida and other South-Western Georgia Mails than
tin- above, will close at 5 o’clock, P. M.
Mails for Interior ollice.s in the rotate and Tennessee w ill
close at 3 o'clock, P. M,
The Oilice will be opened at Hi, A.M. and from 8 to HJ, P.
M. Sundays from Hi to 9, A. M. and from H to Hi, P. M.
Prnfssiannl &Unsiitss Curbs
s. Ar It. I*. H IM.,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
31 a c o n , (1 a .
OrrifK ou Cotton Avenue, over Little's Storfi. (net 11) j
1.. X. WHITTLE,
Attorney at I, u\v ,
jan3 .V.ICO.V, G.l. -ly
B, L. WOOD*
DAGUERRE 0 TYPIST,
MACON. GA.
eVtUAN'CE FROM TIIE AVENUE.
apr 19
RAILROAD EOUSH,
OPPOSITE CENTRAL It YILROAD DEPOT
EAST AM CO.\.
i * > If S, M. I. \MF,R. ‘
p. <;. ARRINGTON,
Attorney at Law and Notary Public,
Oglethorpe, ITlacoii Cos.,
dec G EORIiI \ . 3d—tf |
“city hotel,
SAVANNAH,•.v.v.v.v.v.-GEORGIA i
P. CONDON.
Ttimc —Transient Hoarders, per day, ■* I.AO. Monthly and
yearly Boarders in p.oportion. apr s —\
HARDEMAN & lIAMILTt >N,
Ware House and Commission Merchant sl
,V ico.v- a F.OJIQi-1.
HAMILTON A IIARDEMAN,
FACTORS Ac COMMISSION MERCHANTS,;
SAf .4.V.Y. I If. G F.OROI-1.
W ill give prompt atteutioa-ts* business committed to them ;
at eitlicr place.
thos. iiardkmvs. (19-ts) chas. r. twnwos. ;
FACTORAGE AND
<Do2S3S:ifs©l§!S :
Savannah, Ga*
N ITM. p. YONGE, No. 94 Hay street. Savannah, continues |
\ \ to transact a General Commission Business and Factor- i
ase, and respectfully solicits consignments of Cotton, Corn, j
and other produce. ’ He w ill also attend to receiving and for- j
warding Merchandize. —
April 5, 1851 ly
WINSHIP & SON,
WHOLESALE ANl> RKTAII. DKAIXtIS IN
Ft nj and Staple Dry (Hood* and Ready
Made Clothing.
COTTN AVENUE, MACON, GA.
\V. 1). ETHERIDGE & Cos.,
FACTORS Ac COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
S.ir. /.V. Y.111, OEORQI.I.
rjiijE undersigned having formed a Copartnership for the
L transaction of the above business, tender their services i
totlicir friends and the public generally and solicit a share of
pair mage. We will pay strict attention to the sale of < ‘otton
or other produce consigned to our care and all orders (or Bag
ging. Rope and family supplies w ill be promptly attended to
and filled at the lowest prices. Liberal advances will lie made
upon Cotton nrotlier produce consigned to us.
s. r. cove, (au23-y) w. n. etheeipp*. j
R&3MN, FULTON &©©., j
Factors <V Ftinimissioii Meniiaut*,
aug‘3o SAVANNAH , GEORGIA. —Gin j
SASH AND WINDOW BLIND
SvLi 2Y DQ. ‘QLL O <1 U? ®
r|"MIK subscriber is manufacturing the above article* by
JL 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. MrGUECOR.
jul>'26 ‘'III
F IRE INS UR A N C E
BY TIIE
COMMERCIAL INSURANCE COMPANY
OF CHARLESTON S. C.
CAPITAL $350,000 —ALL PAID IN.
\V M . B. lleriot, Pres A. M. Lee. Ser.’y.
Directors :
James K. Robinson, Geo. A. Trenholm, Robert Caldwell,
R. Taft, Henry T. Street, Win. Mcßurney, J. 11. Brawley,
T. L VVragg.
rpHE subscribers having been appointed Agents for the
I. above Company, are now prepared to take risks against
Fire, on favorable terms. OAKHART, HKO. & CO,
j'inc2l Jlpmts. |
j
DllS. HANKS A- ROOSEVELT tender their
professional services to the citizens of Macon and sur- :
rounding country.
Residence on College Hill, the house formerly occupied by j
Charles Day. Office on the corner of Third and Walnut street. ;
W. H. BANKS, M. 3. (sept6-V) C. J. lIOOEEVEbIt M. D.
R. G. JEFFERSON & CO.
MANUFACTURER AND WHOLESALE DEALERS lJ
CHAIRS,
West Side Broad St., first door above P. Af Larin's,
COLUMBUS, GA.
riMIEY keep on hand an excellent supply of Office. Wood
iL Seat. Split Bottom and Rocking Chairs i Bedsteads, Wood
en Ware, fee.
STF” All Orders left as above, will meet w ith prompt atten
tion. novl—tf
W. s. WILLIFORD,
COMMISSION MERCHANT AND AUCTIONEER.
Macon, Ga.
All kinds of Produce and Merchandise, (except liquors) re
ceived an consignment. sep27
Clandies. —-0 boxes assorted in 25 lh. cases, fresh, and
(for sale by (dec6) a A. ELLS & SON.
Public Sale of City Lots.
WILL be sold at public outcry op WEDNESDAY 2d of
March next, Eight Half-Acre LOTS, in a pleasant and
i etired part ot the city handsomely located for family residen
ces, being all of Square 9., recently laid out on the North Com
mon, near the river and to Rose liill Cemetery.
Terms made known on the day of sale.
By order of Council,
feb2l—i tds A. R. FREEMAN, C. C.
New York and Savannah
STEAMSHIP LINE.
r IMI E new and splendid steamers Capt
-L Lyon, and ALABAMA, Cupt. Ludlow, be
longing to the NEVY YORK AND SAVANNAH
j STEAM NAVIGATION COMPANY,on and alter
jibe llili inst., will leave Sivasxah and New York
every Saturday until further notice. These ships are
1.200 tons register, and unsurpassed in comfort safe
ty and speed. Cabin passage, §25 —payable in li
vauce. Address PADLEFORD, FAY & CO.
.Savanna i
SAMUEL L. MITCHELL,
184 Front St., Kew York,
anil —y
The Old Hat Store.
C l ENTLEMEN w ho are in want of a fine and fashionable
X HAT. will be certain to cal! at llelden’s old stand, oppo
site the Lanier House. [gep27] BELDEN & CO.
House servants for sale—a woman
and her child, 5 or G years old, recommended as a supe
rior house servant, washer and good cook. Enquire of
novls GEO. T. ROGERS.
RECEIVED by Worthington, Bnr
b3|g mini As Cos. Beebe S: Cos. and Leary’s justly
Jjcelebrated new ~tvle IIATS, for sale low,
octn COTTON AVENUE.
Sullivan House,
MACON, GEORGIA.
■ j THE subscriber having taken the Hotkl latcty
fitted up, fronting the Court House, on the
iMtlSile corner of Mulberry street, and Court House
‘ejsitS® Square, will open the same on the Ist Oeto
her. next,and would be pleated to have a call
from his old friends.
This House is con vunient to all the Bail Roads and immed
iately in front of the general passenger Depot, and he w ill be
prepared to accommodate travellers and boarders, by the sin
gle meal, day, week, or month. M. SULLIVAN,
j sepr 20—ts
IAI4IIIN’ Lace and Congress l’runella, Matin, t rnneia
and Silk Gaiters; Black, Bronze and White Kid and Sat
i in Slippers; Black and Bronze Embroidered French Slippers
| Da rod i and Jenny Lind Enameled and Kid Ties, Buskins and
Boots, just received by(sep‘-’7) YVm. B. FERRY is Cu.
FANCY GOODS AND
Hill 18 I m Ym
MRS. DAMOUR, is now receiv
\sjpfv injj her Fall supply in the above line
al, d b y ®ocli week's Steamer wik
& AtXg'tf receive a fresh supply of the most
I SSjjf fashionable Goods, consisting of the
newest styles of Silk and Straw
Bonnets, Ribbons, Flowers, Feath
’ fp\ ers and all kinds of Bonnet trimming,
a choice lot of Dress Silks, and dress trimmings
such as Fringes, Gimps, Bullous, Velvet and Ribbon
! trimmings. Ball Dresses, Veils, Capes, Collars and
| other Embroideries, which will be sold cheap.
octls-tf
t> ll'll CHINA and BOHEMI AN GLASS
sept 20—ts GEO. JONES.
New York Branch Store
COTTON A VENUE.
OPAULDING A WILLIAMS have removed to the
i | 2d door above Winship’s and reopened with a n-w toe!,
of
FALL A LTD WINTER DRY GOODS,
which will be *idd fi,r Cits It . at exceeding low priors.
We have Silks from 75 cis. up ; Del.nins from 12 j up ; Prints
from G \ up ; Bleached and Brown Whirlings t'ro in 5 cts. up, al
so a large sock of Blankets. Flannels, Ticking, Tabic Linens
Bosom Linens, &r„ from low-price to fine, together with a
full assortment of Hosiery, Laces, Gloves. Ribbon.’ and Fancy-
Articles. We respectfully solicit a call from the Ladies.
Goods received every w eek per Steamer.
oct4 27-ly
I > UTTER & CHEESE.— IO fccg* Goshen Butter,
) 50 boxes Cheese, rec’d weekly per steamer and for sale
low by novla GEO. T. ROGERS.
Molasses. —lO hhds. of superior quality, and in noc
order just rec’d and for sale by
novls GEO. T. ROGERS.
““OPENING RICH’ 7
SMITH A MITCHELL, Triangular Block,Cotton
Avenue, are now opening the following choice ar
ticles :
Gentlemen's fancy Cravats, Scarfs and Tier.
AA"Lite and Figured Silk and Lawn IlkfTs.
Merino, Cotton and Silk YYoli.en Shirts and
(Drawers.
“ <£ “ White and Zebra Hose.
Berlin, Lisle, S lk, Cloth, Buckskin, and French
Kid Gloves , White and colored, While and fancy colored
Shirts , in every style. Umbrellas, Trunks, Traveling
Bags, Valises, Ac., Ac., Ac. ts sept 13.
Guns! Guns!!
VI’INK assortment of Single and Double-Barrelled GUNS,
of every quality, from $l2O to 9150} just received and
for sale by (tiov22 —ts) I). C. HODGKINS & SON.
r r.VYL()R’S CREAM ALE—A supply of this cel-
I ebrated Ale, received weekly from manufacturers and for
sale by novls GEO. T*. ROGERS.
| A BBLS. New No. 3 Mackerel,
JLU 10(1 sacks Corn,
40 kits Mackerel,
200 bids. Thomaston Lime, on consignment,
oct 11 L. COWLES.
“Cheese, wliat’s Cheese.”
TUB subscriber is sole agent for S. Cowles A Son r
superior Cream Cheese which is not excelled in
the Union.
Just received 50 Boxes S. Cowie's superior Cream
Cheese, and a few more of the same sort coming.
Also, 100 bbls. and Sacks, containing 100, 50 and
25 pounds Atlanta Steam Mill co. Flour Made from
| selected Wheat and warranted as fine as any flour in
the United States.
Also, Bacon, Lard, Butter, Irish Potatoes, Sweet
Potatoes, and every thing in the eating line that can be
obtained. (sep:27) L. COWLES, Ag’t.
CHESTS Teas, assorted, put up in J and J pound
tj packages. For family use. 100 Sacks Corn on
consiirnmeiit. L. COWLES, Ag’
VVERY handsome selection ol white Gold Band and
[iKroRATKD China Ten Notts just opened. Call
j and see before the assortment is broken. GEO. JONES,
sept 90 —t J
Dr. IPIIAJI’S
VEGETABLE ELECTUARY.
Internal Remedy for the Piles !
npilE Electuary is a r-anin cure for Piles, whether Bleed
-1 mi r or Blind , Internal or Eitcrnnl Piles, ind also for oth
er diseases found in conjunction with Piles.
Price SI per package, Cash, just received and for sale hy
W. G. LITTLE CQ , Cotton Avenue, Macon
who keeps constantly on hand large and fresh supplies of
Drugs and Medicines, Paipu-, Oils, Glassware &c„ wholesale
and retail. aug23-y
SILVER Tea-set and Pitchers. —A beautiful ar
ticle for sale by (.decl3) E. J. JOHNSTON.
1 AA ncw P'S Hants.
IU V 10 Barrels superfine Flour.
20 Boxes Northern and city made Candy,
20 “ New Rasins.
20 Gross Fire Works. Jus reoenrJ and for sale
by dec 13 ts j. S. GRAY BILL.
/’AIIOICE GEORGIA IIAMS—BOO Hams of supe
rior quality,
1100 Pig do. this fall’s curing,
5 casks Canvassed Hams,
1000 Georgia Sides, just received by
n°vls GEO. T. ROGERS.
sttoj Produce by the Wholesale
i ‘ THE attention of Plasters and others who may
L\ . sSfbave to purchase supplies for the year is respectfully
called to the large assortment of EAST TENNESSEE AND UP
PER GEORGIA PRODUCE, now being received on consign
ment, and which may be had on good terms, for cash, at the
New Produce Store of W, F. HARRIS St CO,
dec6 —2m Cotton Avenue.
“ IMepenitent iu all tjjings —lieuftal in natljing.”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 28, 1852.
Plows, Plows, Plows !
Speed the Plow that beats the World !
PLANTERS about pieparing for the next crop are requested
to recollect that John Rich’s justly celebrated PLOWS are
still manufactured in Macon, and can be had in any quantity
the demand may require. Also that the testimony of a
large number of our most respectable and responsible plan
ters goes to prove that the Corn and Cotton cultivated with
these Plows the last season, stood the drouth much better than
that cultivated with the common Plow, and recollect furthei
that when the points become dull and unfit for use, tliat 121
cents, and the old point delivered in Macon, will replace it with
anew one, which makes this deeidedly the best plow now in
use for the planter. Remember the old maxim :
“Plow- your ground deep,
While sluggards sleep,
And you will have corn
To sell and to keep.”
Apply opposite the Ocmulgec, Fouhdry, nearin e Macon 4c
\\ estern Railroad Depot, Macon Ga.
deefi—y AMOS RENTON, Agent.
Ftfoin ihe Memphis Eagle.
Lucifer.
CT L. VIRGINIA SMITH.
‘A young Italian artist once drew a representation
of Lucifer, so \ivid and glowing that it left the canvas
and came into the painter’s soul; in other words,
haunted bis mind by night and by day, producing at
last frenzy and death.’
’Twas night upon the Arno. Witellingly
To starlit waters sighed the southern wind,
Yet wakened not their slumbers ; soft the earth
Sank to Iter dewy dreaming*, and the sky
Embosomed in itsdeptlisa mystery
Which stole within the spirit, shadowing
Faint visions of Eternity, and God!
High o’er the waters hung a single star,
I’ar gleaming from the casement of an old
And lone palazzo, haunted, hastening
To ruin and decay. ’Twas the abode
Os beauty, pi ide and misery. W ithin
A lofty chamber drearily upstreamed
Tall waxen tapers, waking phantasies
Grotesque upon the bare and mouldy walls,
W here half was light, half panoplied in gloom.
The radiance blazed upon a picture, lone,
Aud strangely beaußlul. As one entranced,
Before it the young painter stood transfixed,
And gazed, half-shrinkingly, upon his proud
And terrible creation. Tangled curls
Hung damp upon his brow, and heavy drops
Os mental agony ; his straining eye
Had it wild lustre, and the restless gleam
W Im-lt would have died to tear itself away,
Yet clung upon the canvas. lie was mad!
His was a haunted midnight of the mind,
Where ec-ltot and one loin’ passion ;-.*Wc and home.
Pleasure and fortune lie had flung aside,
And given iiis spirit to ambition, which
ll crime it.must be called, was sure the first
Proud sin of the archangels.
Lucifer!
The potraiturc bad kindlid ’neatli bis toueli,
As from live red air-crystals, God lit up
The fiery battle-star, —with burning eyes
That glistened up his being from the skies,
lie painted on, till feeling waxed a curse,
And thought a maddened frenzy. Set-iniugly,
From out a lurid chaos, vague and vast,
Bounded the fallen angel, and the gloom,
Blazed iu bis swarthy lustre. From bis proud,
Inflated nostril streamed a breath of flame,
And every graceful and colossal limb
W as tensioned with sueh deadly spring as nerves
The couchant tiger. Round about him hung
A wild and savage lonelimss, and yet
Supremely desolate, and desolately calm
In horrible sublimity. Afar
His mighty pinions swept along the sky
Like triple night descending ; deep within
Their heavy plumes were stains of blood, which
glowed
Like crimson comet stars; —and round his heart,
The hydra ‘worm undying’ writhed in fire
Unquenchable. His high uplifted brow,
Where dwelt the haughty spirit which defied
Omnipotence, upon its adamant
Bore record of ten thousand lightnings, yet
There slmne a gloomy glory, which revealed
The mountain soul that threw its haggard cliffs
In mockery to Ileaven! The blasting spell
Os his deep eye was strong and terrible ;
Within, a pandemonium which cast
Its glances forth, a mingled multitude
Os swiftly darting fiends. Its serpent gaze
Clasped the boy-painter’s sonl, and fed upon
Tlie life of his young being.
Hist! the knell
Os midnight, from some distant convent bell.
The painter started suddenly,—a gleam
Crossed his wan features, lighting up awhile,
The heart so weary, and the eyes so wild.
He spoke, —with shuddering utterance, his voice
Seemed the wild sobbing of some wailing wind
That struggles up beneath its weary weight
Os tempest-crowded darkness.
‘Pride-monarch ! with my pencil swift and free,
I would have traced a god from Ileaven hurled,
But thou hast sprung—a dread reality
Front ihe deep bosotn of a darker world!
Some dire abyss where angels never trod,
Fierce outlaw from the Paradise of God !
I feel thee in the strong, unearthly thrill
That checks the deep life-currents as they roll,
Thine iron influences chain me still,
Dread dweller in the shadows of my soul!
Spare me, ah ! spare me the remorseless ire,
That rages ’neatli thy diadem of fire !
I wandered once upon the wings of light,
I climbed the steep of Ileaven from star to ttar, —
Half-pierced the veil that shrouds the infinite,
Anl caught the chorus from those realms afar—
Where twice ten thousand in seraphic choirs,
Roll back the anthems from immortal lyres.
There was a time, mine was the courage high
That sends the war-horse bounding on the spears,
When Danger’s self, before my dauntless eye
And deeds of daring, quailed in hollow fears.
I dread thee notv, —thou lost and lightning-driven,
Aye, more than death beneath the bolts of Heaven !
Siiade of the mighty!—thou art dark and lone,
Yet, through the fiend-dights gathered in thine eye
It seems at intervals as sorrow shone,
As though ’twoulfl .ask ee’n human sympathy.—
My soul is wrung tq give it thee, and weeps
Gieat drops of anguish from its tortured deeps.
All love’s sweet pulses, passion’s glowing dreams.
The gorgeous phantoms of mine earlier day,
Hope, pleasure, memory, crushed and broken themes,
Swept by one waving of thy wing away ;
Now, dread magnificence, thy burning shrine
Takes the last ashes of this life of mine !’
’Twas early dawning—cheerily its beam
Crept through the narrow casement, with the voice
Os weakened winds and waters, and the chime
Os far ofF matin bells. The artist-boy
Lay wrapped in slumber ’neath the tapers pale,
And blazing picture. A my>teiious spell
Held the light pinion of his spirit furled, —
For life, and misery, and pride had flown,
And all but beauty left the desolate.
Peace to him,
The tempest-tossed and weary. True, the world
Had gloomy thoughts of Jtitn, and one by one,
It cast them on his memory, till the cairn
Grew to a lone and melancholy monument.
We pass—to fling upon the rugged stones
A fragile garland front the grove of i-ong,
And Pity’s pale, sweet blossoms, —murmuring
‘R'-st, troubled spirit, rest!’
55.5.5.1.1 !JJ!J}>
From the New York Organ.
Losing a lit*art.
BY DAVID SY. BARTLET.
The following simple sketch I found the oth
er day while looking with mournful interest
over the papers of a deceased friend. It will
explain itself, but the reader may feel enough
interest in its author to wish t<> know his fate ;
he died a few weeks since and slumbers now
beneath the sods of his native valley.
Come with me into my little room, friend,
and I will show you how once l lost a heart!
You start, and well you may, for a guileless,
human heart is a priceless treasure when pos
sessed—and when once lost never can truly be
recovered again.
Or, you start to think that. I never had a
heart to loose ! You have been gazing at my
wrinkled forehead, at my grey hairs—yet I am
only a bachelor of forty. You forget I was
young once, and fair like yourself.
Sit down by my table while I unlock that
portfeuille ami show you a picture.
‘Beautiful!’
Ay, it is a beautiful picture; never were
there sweeter eyes, a fairer forehead, a more
devoted heart than hers —in that picture be
fore you. And here is a lock of Iter auburn
hair—and these fingers of mine once played
through it when it was upon her head.
I was born with a sensitive, passionate loving
nature. That which was trifling toothers oft
en was agony to me. A careless word, ti
thoughtless deed, often sent me to my room in
tears, or roused the passion of my heart. The
crowning fault in uty character, and it grew out.
of, in a manner, my sensitiveness, was jea
lousy. A\ ho in 1 loved, I loved with my whole
heart, and I claimed a whole heart in return.
1 was easily made jealous of the love of a friend,
tv as careful how I formed friendship, and at
the age of twenty had never loved a woman.
In the twentieth summer I left home to
spend the season with an uncle in Pennsylva
nia. While there I met at a village party, Su
san R , and when I first saw ht-r 1 was struck
with her beauty. It was not vulgar beauty—
there was a spiritual look upon her face which
made it pure and holy, as well as beautiful.
A few evenings after 1/ bad made her ac
quaintance. T met a party if people at her fath
er s house, Judge R s pleL.iiit country • I
was defending a favorite alithor of mme from
‘he attacks of several sharp critics when Susan
K. quotca a passage ot exquisite poetry from
him—it was anew and young poet—which I
wats vainly endeavoring to remember, and
which sileiufod the coterie of fault-finders. She
recited it in a voice of subdued sweetness, and
seemed to express its lovely beauties upon her
face. I was entranced, and during the evening
offered her my arm for a walk out beneath the
veranda. She accepted with a blush of plea
sure ; it seemed to me. The moonlight was
soft and enchanting, and the fragrance of gar
den flowers floated around us. We talked of
poetry, and men and women, and of human
sympathies and affections. She was modest
and trembling, and yet not affectedly so, and
talked in a low musical voice of the real woes and
joys incident to life, lhero was little of fash
ionable ‘small talk’ upon her lips—she was too
pure and intellectual for that.
Her brother joined us—he had missed her
and sought her out—and I was cordially invited
by him to visit him whenever I would, to hunt,
ride, listen to Susan’s playing, or anything
which would add to my pleasure. I visited
there often, and the morn I saw of Susan the
more truly did I love her. These was a sweet
ness about her beauty which it is rare to find in
this world, and her disposition was lovely as
the breath ot a June morning. Her eyes were
dark blue, her hair of auburn, and Iter face ra
diant with trustful love. She was an only
daughter, and I always wondered how she grew
up so pure and gentle, having been so petted
and fondled from childhood bv her father —but
her mother was a woman of intellect and piety.
Susan was almost too gentle and sensitive, for,
if you have noticed, the happiness of such in
this world is a precarious tiling. Day after day
I visited Judge It’s, feigning excuses when my
whole object was to see Susan. I loved her
with all my heart; anew life had sprung up
within me, and I saw peace and happiness in
the future. But I dared not avow my love, for
I was sure I could not outlive the refusal of her
heart.
One summer day we went out together into the
fields, and sat down beneath the shadow ofan elm
to rest, when talking of flowers we whispered
ot love. 1 cannot tell you how, but wiiu the
sweet sky overhead, and the murmur of the
bees amidst the clover, and the songs of birds,
1 won her heart and bound it to mine by a vow
from her sweet lips. We were engaged !
Alt! that is her portrait before you, with the
blue eyes and auburn hair—as she was then !
I had it taken shortly after we became engag
ed, and wore it next my heart- yes, J, old,
wrinkled bachelor that I am; and you need not
start, for, like you, I was fair once. The weeeks
went happily away, until one day, sitting at
dinner at my uncle's, my cousin Henry said:
‘Charles Leaton is at home again !
‘Who is Charles Leaton.?’ 1 asked.
‘Judge R’s favorite,’ he replied,‘a young man
lie has helped from boyhood, and is now help
ing to position and wealth. He is a great favor
ite with Susan too, and you had better have a
care, cousin, mine, or you will rue the day he
set his foot in Judge R.’s mansion!
Naturally sensitive and jealous, my intense
love for Susan made ihese words burn hotly
upon my heart- 1 went to my room beside my
self with agitation; and when R was evening
went over to J udge Ij’s. As 4 matter of course,
I saw everything through jealous eyes. Young
Leaton was there, when Susan introduced him
tome I saw a gleam of triumph on her face.
She knew that I was in torment, and was placid
and smiling. Was she a coquette? Or, was
she false to me ? I harbored such thoughts
with horror, yet harbored them. All that night
l was in agony. The next morning I started to
go and see her, but my pride aroie and 1 turned
to my chamber. Sometime in the course of the
evening my love prevailed, and I walked over
to Judge R’s. But what a sight did I behold
when 1 approached! It was a clear moonlight
evening, 1 saw Susan beneath the veranda lean
ing upon Leaton’s arm. Yes, bis arm was a
round her waist —she that was to be my wife !
My heart trembled to the verge of bursting —
it seemed as if I should drop down helpless in
the path. Then there came a revulsion of feel
ing; my pride and passion awoke—l would leave
her, the faithless thing—fly to the ends af the
earth—and from her! I told her so in a note
the next morning—told her how I had seen her
in the arms of another, released her from her
vow, and that when she received those lines I
would be away, and that I would go far, far
from my native land, and try to forget the
past!’
‘Rash!’
Upbraid me not —my heart has done that
enough —hear me out.
I lied to Europe. I did not even leave a
single direction for receiving letters from home.
1 went to Italy, and wandered restless beneath
its beautiful skies; and visited classical Greece
with a worn heart, and iu Spain endeavored to
forget the past, but I could not. Memory was
too faithful, amlsometiinesconscience whisper
ed I had been too precipitate.
Two years had passed away when I landed
again upon my native shore, ihe impulse to
visit the town where Susan lived was irresisti
ble. I did so, and arrived on a beautiful after
noon in autumn. There was a gulden quiet
every where, on the woods, and skies, and fields.
I stooped at the village inn before proceeding
to my Unde’s. The landlord stood with me
upon the steps. I heard the village bell strike
solemnly and slow.
‘There is a funeral ?’ I said.
‘Yes, Susan R. is buried to-day ’
I heard the name, and feel senseless to the
ground. I remember nothing more for weeks,
I was taken, ill and delirious to my Uncle’s, and
lay for weeks between earth and eternity. J udge
R. and son came kindly to enquire after me —
they understood all, and pitied me while they
censured. When I was well enough the fallow
ing lines from Susan were put into my hands:
‘Dear E.—l shall never, never see you again
in this world, for they say that l must die, for I
have the consumption. It matters not, for
were I to live you would never come to me
again. Charles Leaton is my cousin, was a
poor orphan, and always lived with us from
boyhood, and I loved him as a brother, and
nothing more. That night when you saw us he
was tolling me of his engagement to a lady
whom lie lias married since r and my brother
stood behind us laughing and saying I ought
to tell Charles my secret too.
“Dear E. you will find a heart better, nobler,
perhaps, and a head wiser, but never one more
faithful than this poor heart of mine, which ache
and throbs so uow. You may never see theses
lines, but if vmi do you will know hov. - true I
was to you —how l loved you to the last. I want
you to know this —ymd yet you must not feel
sorrawfid, for 1 do not blame you for what you
have done. I have beeu happy in wandering
alone where we used to wander. Do you re
member the elm underneath which you first
called me yours ? But I can't wiite any more,
if you ever see this, know that I was ever, ever
yours. Farewell.”
She died of a broken heart; I knew it from
what her father said. She pined away slowly,
for site hoped always that 1 might come back,
month after month her hope grew fainter, and
the silver chord snapped asunder at last, and her
heart, bruised and bleeding flew to rest upon
the bosom of Him who was sorrowful while on
earth. And I did this, by my madness and
cruelty, I broke the poor creature’s heart, Ay,
and my own too, my own too! There is her
picture, the same beautiful face—gentle heart, I
slaved her, though she trusted iu me!
The Christmas Present.
BY LIEUT. MURRAY.
The keen atmosphere of a Christmas morn
ing was sweeping over the west end of London,
when our stoiy commences. If any observant
person had been stirring abroad so early, tbey
iniglit have heard the plaintive chant of a chim
ney sweep from a lofty house top, as lie strug
gled gradually towasds the top of the flue, lie
must have been at work long before daylight to
have got so nearly through nis job at that early
hour. But as the faint rays of the sun strug
gled with the mist and fog of a London morn
ing, the little laborer emerged weary and dirty
from the scene of his labors.
‘Well,’ said the boy, ‘ they do say as how St.
Nicholas goes down these ere flues of a Christ
mas morning, but he’d got wedged in there,
blow me if be would'nt less he had been up to
a sweep’s tools.
The boy stretched his arms and legs after
the severe work lie had just accomplished in so
contracted a space, and looked about him to see
the prospect from his elevated position and even
went down to the gutter of the house top, to
look down into the street below.
“My boss, that old cove as boats me and
drives me up these ere flues, will give me a
regular rouser if 1 don't go down in no time;
so here goes,” saying which, he mounted the
chimney top to begin his descent.
Down, down went the little sweep, chanting
his melodious though monotonous song to while
away the dreariness ot’ the work. Once or
twice the boy paused as though a little sur
prised at something lie saw, but his voice was
heard again chanting on merrily as he pro
ceeded.
“My eyes,” exclaimed the little sweep, (which
by the way was about all of the hoy’s face that
could be discerned at ail through the thick coat
of smut that shrouded his features.) ‘My eyes!’
lie repeated, ‘if here ain’t a go! Why, I’m
blowed if I liaint gone and come down the
wrong flue! What a jolly fine place this is—
somebody’s chamber! Well, wlio'd a thought
of such a thing ?”
As the little fellow emerged from the fire
place, he found that he had come down proba
bly the flue of the next house to that which he
had ascended. The apartment into which he
had emerged was indeed a splendid oqe ; but
to the inexperienced e3*e it looked like enchant
ment; everything so rich, clean and comforta
ble. In his wildest moments of imagination he
had never dreamed of such luxury. He seemed
almqst afraid to advance into the room from the
hearth, and his first impulse was again to as
cend.
“Blow me, if I didn't think I was coming
down the wrong flue when I was up there,” he
said musingly.
Then he reasoned that if he went back he
would get a thrashing for being gone so long,
or if his mistake was discovered bv his master,
he would be whipped for that, lie had been
lobbed of half a nigtit’s sleep in order to ac
complish this very job; he was tired—very
tired.
“What jolly fine sleeping a cove might get
on that ere bed. My eyes 1 how soft it is,” con
tinued the sweep, as he laid his hand upon the
soft white counterpane, and left thereupon an
imprint of soot!
It was a temptation too potent for his wean
limbs! lie was tired aud sleepy; bethought
he would just lie down for a moment to see how
such a bed would feel. But hardly had the
poor biy realized the luxury of a soft leather
bed before nature asserted her rights and he
slept. What a dream that poor boy had! can
we describe it ?
lie dreamed he was in paradise, and soft mu
sic sounded in his ears, and food, abundant, lus
cious and refreshing, was by liis side. A gen
tle hand smoothed the hair from his forehead,
and kissed him. How his heart beat; a kiss!
lie didn't recollect of ever being kissed before.
He had seen kind folks kiss little children; but
an angel had kissed him now ! He was clothed
in his dream in clothes as white and spotless as
those on which he was lying; aud an exquisite
sense of refreshed powers stole over him.
But while the boy lay thus in dreamy forget
fulness, the mistress of the house entered. —
Scarcely able to suppress the astonishment that
possessed her, she yet reasoned upon the mat
ter, and tracing by the boy's tracks from the
chimney place the fact that he had descended
the flue, she even guessed the trutli of his mis
take, and with a heart, full of kindness on this
Christmas morning, she determined to turn the
event into one of real happiness.
When the little sweep awoke, some three
hours after having thrown himself down to
sleep, he felt frightened at his own audacity,
and crept trembling from the bed to the cen
tre of the room. But scarcely had he shown
signs of being awake, before the stout house
maid, stationed there for the purpose, seized
him by the arm and said;
“Here, you blackamoor, missus says you are
to be washed, and master has sent these clothes
home for you. So come along to the bath room
and don’t stand there staring as though you
saw a ghost.’’
All this was Greek to the poor sweep and
half undecided whether he was to be punished
for something he had done, or whether the pro
posed bath was intended a kindness, the boy
yielded himself to the staid old housekeeper,
who doused him headlong into a bath tub, and
then wiped him so thoroughly with a coarse
crash towel that Uis flesh burned for an hour
afterwards.
“Well, I declare,’’ said the housekeeper sur
veying the young sweep, after the soot was
completely removed from his head and face,
aud the neck of the boy was encircled by a
clean linen shirt, “if this here aint almost a
miracle. Why, the boy is really handsome,
now lie’s clean aud christianfied. Well, what
a halteration soap and water will make some
times, to be sure.”
Now it happened that Mr. and Mrs. Howland
had a large Christmas dinner prepared that day,
aud many of their town and country relatives
and intimate friends were to d.iue with them,
and the good matron resolved to prepare for
them a pleasant surprise in tho matter of the
little sweep who had come into her house in
such a singular manner, and for this purpose
she had privately instructed the housekeeper
to dress him up nice and clean, and make the
most of him.
But Mrs. Howland was as much surprised
as any one, when just after the Christmas din
ner, the housekeeper brought the boy into the
room, lie had been thotougbly washed, and
his hair trimmed by a barber, a nice suit of dean
clothes and linen shirt and collar put on him ;
and he had further been refreshed by a nice
dinner of beef and vegetables, and a cup of
such coffee as he thought he should remember
forever,
“ W hy, what a handsome boy he is,’’ exclaimed
half a dozen voices at once.
“You should have seeu him as he laid sleep
ing in my room,” said Mrs. Howland, ‘he was
black as the ace of spades.’
‘lie’s as clean as a pin, now,’ suggested one.
“What can you say for yourself, my little fel
low?’’ asked Mrs. Howland.
“Nothing,” replied the boy, demurelv.
“Guess be can sing,’’ suggested the house
keeper; ‘all sweeps sing.’’
“Uli lei us hear him sing, by all means. A
song, a song!’’
The boy could sing, for the old fellows who
employed the little sweeps taught them songs
that they might know they were safe while iu
the flues by their songs—and thus urged the boy
sung one or two rude chants, until at last he
struck into oue that he seemed rather at a loss
to give any definite words to, but the air of
which he gave with great beauty and correct
ness.
The song seemed to tin ill to the very heart
of Mis. Rowland, aud her husband watched her
face while it was in progress.
“That was the song, ’’ she said to her husband,
‘we sung to our little William.’
“1 knew it well,’’ he said.
‘‘Strange that this child should know the
air.”
“It is.”
Where did you learn that song, my little fel
low 3” asked Mrs. llowland.
“I don't know, sir.”
‘ Don't know!”
No, sir. I have always sung it since I can
remember.’’
“indeed!”
During the conversation Mrs. Howland had
taken the boy’s hand m the utmost trepidation,
aud leading him hastiiv to the light, parted
back his hair from the right temple, and tiudr
ing there a deep scar, almost screamed to her
husband—
“ This is it, it is William, our lost child. 1 ’
Six years before tins period Mr. and Airs.
Howland had lost their only child, a boy of
some three years of age, who had been dressed
quite expensively, aud with many ornaments
about ins little person. The child had been
left by a servant for a single moment, exposed at
the door, and had been carried oti by some thief,
aud by a strange thread of circumstances, had
been brought up a little sweep, aud now Provi
dence had sent it back to its parents as a Christ
mas present.
We believe that every well-regulated family
ought always to have one baby in it, just for
the tun of the thing.
You will always find it a good plan, when
you go to get measured for anew pair of boots,
1 to draw on three or four pair of stockings.
CONNECTICUT BLUE-LaWS.
The bitter and sweet are supposed to be
equaily commingled in our cup of life, and we
are not to suppose that it is for any other rea
son that our vices and virtues are as equally
balanced. We have our trials and blessings,
our punishments and rewards, even from infan
cy y. and those of who have good memories and
candid tongues, will confess to the recollection
of those youthful hours when we got a stick of
candy for being good, and a slap or two for
squalling. We are remintfad of the lights and
shadows of life, the virtues lnd vices of human
ity, by the following list of the celebrated
‘ Blue Laws,’ which are mostly libels upon the
name of religion and justice, though they were
genuine emanations from the hearts and brains
ot some ot the venerable first settlers of New
England.
The governor and magistrates constituting
the general assembly, are the supreme power of
Cod, ot independent dominion. From the de
termination of the assembly, no appeal shall bo
made.
Whoever says there is a power and jurisdic
tion above and over this dominion, shall suffer
death and the loss of property.
Conspirators attempting tochange or turn tho
dominion, shall suffer death.
The judge shall determine controversy with
out a jury.
No one shall he a freeman or carry a vote
unless he is converted, and a member in full
communication with one of the churches al
lowed in this dominion.
No man shall hold any office who is uot sound
in tne laith, and faithtul to this dominion; and
whoever gives a vote to such a person shall
pay a fine of twenty shillings for the first ofUmce,
and for the second he shall be disfranchised.
Each freeman shall swear by the blessin* of
God to lx a-true allegiance to this dominion,
and that Jesus is the only king.
No Quaker or dissenter from worship of tho
established dominion shall be allowed to give a
vote for ihe election of magistrates or any
other officer.
No food or lodging shall be offered a Quaker,
Adamite, or other heretic.
Isa person turns Quaker, he shall he. banish
ed and not suffered to return on pain of death.
No priest shall abide in this dominion ; he
shall be banished and suffer death on his re
turn.
Priests may be seized by any one without a
warrant.
No one shall cross a ferry without an author-*,
ised ferryman.
No one shall run on the Sabbath day, or walk
in the garden or elsewhere, except reverentlv
to and from church.
No one shall travel, cook victuals, make up
beds, sweep house, cut hair, or shave on the
Sabbath day.
No woman shall kiss her child on the Sab
bath day.
The Sabbath shall begin at sunset on Satur
day.
To pick a year of corn growing in a neigh
bor’s garden shall he deemed theft.
A person.accused with trespass in the night
shall lie judged guilty, unless he clear kiwlelf
by oath.
When it appears that an accused has con-,
federates, and refuses to discover them, he may
be racked.
Whoever publishes a lie to the prejudice of
his neighbor, shall sit in the stocks, and bq
whipped with fifteen stripes.
No minister shall keep a school.
Whoever hiingscards or dice into this do-,
minion shall pay a fine of £5.
Whoever wears clothes trimmed with gold,
silver, or bone luce above two shillings hv the
yard, shall he presented to the grand jurors,
and the selectmen shall tax the offender at £3OO
estate.
A debtor in prison swearing he has no estate,
shall be let out, and sold to make satisfaction.
Whoever sots a fire in the woods and burns a.
house, shall suffer death ; and persons suspected
ot this crime shall be imprisoned without the
benefit ofbai).
No one shall read common prayer, keep
Christmas or feaint s day, make minced pies,
play cards, or play on any instrument of music
except the drum, trumpet and jewsharp.
None but a gospel minister shall join peo
ple i:i marriage, as they may dp <1 with less
scandal to Christ’s church.
When parents refuse children convenient
marriage, the magistrate shall determine tha
point.
fornication shall bo punished by compel-,
ling marriage as the law directs.
Thf. Wat to have Good Schools. —The New
Englanders have been perpetually charged with an ex
cessive Jove of inouey. But a good system of educa
tion is beyond doubt the most expensive of luxuries, and
yet it is one In w hich these money lovers indulge most
liberally. The annual appropriations, says Mr. Everct
in the Boston Daily Advertiser, of the city pf Cam
bridge, for the support <>f her public schools, a city of
about 16,000 inhabitants, exceecds the entire annual
amount of all the funds bestowed upon* Harvard tJni
versity, and applicable to the business of instruction
since its foundation ; that is of the college proper, and
not the professional schools oonneeted with it. The
annual expenditure of Boston for schools and schooling
is more than half of the entire expenditure of the
Commonwealth, for the support of a!! the public estab
lishments and the salaries of all the public officers.
These munificent appropriations are not provided for
out of the income of ancient endowments ; they are
met by taxation frem year to year. Thus a people,
pretty roughly treated by flippant tongues, in tbeir mu
nicipal democracies, voluntarily impose upon themselves
the heaviest tax paid by any people in the world for
purposes of education.
These liberal pecuniary appropriations, however, are
but the first step ; they give you school houses, school
libraries, apparatus and fuel, and the salaries of teach
ers themselves arc got to be had by merely paying for
them. A class of skilful, accomplished and conscien
tious teachers can only he gradually formed. They
niust be men and women, a considerable pa ft of them,
who have chosen the work of education as the business
of their lives—wha give to it tlieir time, their abilities
and their hearts. Such a class of teachers is not to
be had by asking for it. It must form itself in tho
minds of an intelligent and virtuous community, that
kftows how to prize them, that holds them in high es
teem, as some of its most honored public servants.
There are poriions of our country, in which, if vou
were to 6tand them thick with our beautiful school
houses, with ail their appliances, apparatus and libra
ries, you could not work the system for the want of
teachers, nor get the teachers merely by advertising for
them. Sir, I say it for no compliment in this place;
the school-teachers in this community constitute a class
inferior in respectability to no other, rendering ths
most important services, by no means over-eompensr,
ted, rathsr the reverse. I consider their eh-Vacier ap<*
reputation M a part of the moral wealth of the com
munity,— X. Y. Observer. •
NO. 48