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A FAMILY NEWSPAPER,--DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, SCIENCE, ART, POLITICS k GESERAL INTELLIGENCE.
VOL. 3.
ft off js the time to Subscribe!
prospectus
OF THE third volume of tiie
GEORGIA CITIZEN.
L F. W. ANDREWS,
EDITOR and proprietor.
„ r conn \ CITIZEN is a large size Weekly Newspa*
L 0* r ’ . TURK , Mechanic Arts, Domestic Economy
Poult’ <S Jesl dtobe a First Class Journal for the
tr, &<-. U ‘ . B n „ jD g Room and Business Mart. Its
;-;:r,s ‘‘indepeudeat in all things,-Neutral
in nothin?-’’ presidential Campaign, the Citizen will as
l P -be the advocate of such Candidates ns are known
fcjfcwtors, couiprollllseß of the Constitution, the rights of
toVm [ 1 ’ , nd ,| ie permanency of the Union or none.
lh , : uth
elurged and otherwise improved.
4*2 per ann. in Advance-$2 50 if not so paid.
iifiitiiisiifi,
V Semi-Vearlv, Quarterly and Transient Advkrtmk*
conspicuously on the most reasonable terms.—
W .i.-ertising medium, the Citizen is now acknowledged
, me CHF.aW AND BEST PAPER IN CENTRAL
('t il' l '! \ Us circulation at home and the region round a
buut, is increasing rapidly.
BOOK rtBMTING.
No. 13, Cotton Avenue.
.. INO received a handsome assortment of New Type and
jV„ A v Printing Material, w e are prepared execute all kinds of
plain K iDrmutmitul printing.
. despatch,and in the best style of the Art, in Gold, Sil
*’ vcr anil Colored Inks,suchas
, rn Ar-- itn n n r * A “T\ O
tmtubAne do i LnonnUL),
LABELS, IS 5 NOTICES,
BILL HEADS,
BILLS OF LADING, COTTON RECEIPTS,
m x A mkm, a&fIiBMLLS
to
AUCTION “ PROGRAMMES,
BVSI\ESS cards, ball tickets,
u,>4 “ BRIDAL “
Xiwnt 6 66 SGDE WO&E,
rj gt : 3
llvnsn also put up one of A. I). Brown's Superior STAND
ING PIIF.3SKS, all work hereafter done at this Office will be
finish*.! in the tiest manner. ... „ . ...
Br adopting the Cw* Principle, the Pr.pnetor w
be able to do superior work at the lowest possible rate, ana at
t lw shortest notice.
Notice to Agents.
Postmasters and others, sending us $lO in advance, will be
• untied to Si\ copies of the Ciii7.cn* for one jear.
Address, L. F. W. ANDREWS,
mar 27 Macon, Ga
S. & R. P. IIALL,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW ,
Macon, G a .
Office on Cotton Avenue, over Little's Drug 3tore. (octl 1
L. N. WHITTLE,
Attorney at Law,
jani MAC OX, G.l. -ly
LAMAR & LOCHRANE,
Attorneys and Counseliers at I.aw.
OrrlfY OVER beldes It >o's. HAT STORE, MACON. GA.
X\Tf(.L practice in the Superior Courts of the following
V counties: Bibb, Monroe, l'ike, Houston, Dooly, Sum
ter, crawford, Macon, Jones and Twiggs, and in the Supreme
court at Macon, Decatur and Columbus.
All cases placed in our hands for collection will be punctual
be attended to.
B. u. lsmar, (feb 2?) ••
R. O- JEFFERSON & O.
NANirriCTUIKR AND WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
CHAIRS,
West Side Broad St., first door above P. M Larin s,
COLUMBUS, GA.
ypilEY kep on hand an excellent supply of Office, Wood
1 Seat, Split Bottom and Hocking Chairs ; Bedsteads, W ootl
en Ware, 4tc.
Orders left as above, will meet with prompt atten
tion. novl—tf
W. s. WILLIFORD,
COMMISSION MERCHANT AM) AUCTIONEER.
Macon, Ga.
All kinds nf Produce and Merchandise, (except liquors) re
ceived on consignment. scp‘J7
h, l. wood -
DAGUERREOTYPIST,
MACON, GA.
- ENTRANCE FROM THE AVENUE.
prl9 ts
CITY HOTEL,
SAVANNAH,•.•.•.•.■.•.•.•.•.•.•■•GEORGIA.
P. CONDON.
V irmi:—Transient Boarders, per day, $1,50. Monthly and
early Bo,M- d ers j n p.uportion. apz s—v
Hardeman a Hamilton,
Ware House and Commission Merchants,
M 1 COX, GEORGIA.
Hamilton & iiardeman,
I VCTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
SAC.IXX.IH, GEORGIA.
‘give prompt attention to all business committed to them
a, place.
U'U Har I>BMAN. ( 19—ts) CIIAS. T. HAMILTON.
WIWSHIP & SON,
IIOLESiLE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN
‘ L < u mol Staple Dry Goods and Ready
Made Clothing.
COTTN AVENUE, MACON, CA.
W. U ETHERIDGE fc Cos.,
VCTORS & COMMISSION’ MERCHANTS,
SACAXMjiH. GEORGIA.
piF. unders+toed having a Copartnership for the
tolhe r r ‘! C ab ” Ve tender their services
,he P ubl,c solicit a share of
or on?. a ‘ P3y 6tnCt atte * tlcn to sale of Cotton
_ her produce consigned to our care a4 all orders for Ba Ir
ani SUPP ‘' eS ‘ vi<lbe P rf *Py attended to
n.ied at the lowest prices. Liberal advance* will be made
* n button or other produce coasignod to ue.
“• r. oove, (aug-23-y) w. and. tmetniot.
SASH AND WINDOW BLIND
J ‘ s " t,sc riber is manufacturing the above articles by
eam Machinery, at very moderate prices.
n Tl RN’ixg AND PLANING.
laa<^ b,ner y for this business, and will promptly exe
-1 >'T'bs in this line. ALLA. McGRF.COR.
JUIy ' 6 -Gin
c. H. FREEMAN,
—manuracturer of
O l * 8 ’e C ,° rdialS ’ Syr,,ps ’ &C, &C *
B\ I , J '^ lCe tie ** eo ’ Cotton Avenue, Macon, Ocl
on U' 1 arties antl Families furnished at short notice and
11 l sonabl ° tcnns for CaßH
it JIW r ‘ ltrk hm the country accompanied with the money,
prom l% attended to.. dcl3—tf
THE POET'S CORKER.
Anti-Stay-At-llorae-Socioty.
BY ONE WHO KNOWS.
MONDAY NIGHT.
Wife :
Oh, love, I’m glad you have come homo,
The supper’s almost cold :
Cut here’s a nice warm bit for you—
I don’t intend to scold.
V our office closed—all business done,
Your books laid on the shelves,
llovv pleasant it will be to pass
This evening by ourselves.
Husband :
My love, my dearest love, you know
llow liappy I should be,
If I could pass my leisure hours
In sweet commune with thee.
But (here he sighs) you know we must
Obey stern duty’s calls;
And this night, dearest, just this one,
I must be at the Hall.
TIES DAT NIGHT.
Wife:
My love, Miss C. takes, to-night,
Her benefit, and so,
As she is one I much admire,
I’d really like to go.
Husbund :
You shall, my love—stop I forgot,
’TisTuesday night, I swear ;
A special meeting’s called to-night,
1 really must be there.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT.
Wife. :
Dear Charles, it’s been so dull to-day
Without you. I confess ;
Let’s draw this table to the fire,
And have a game of chess.
Husband:
I would accept yonr ehallange, love.
And grant your sweet demand,
But Wednesday is our lodge, you know,
And 1 must be on hand.
THURSDAY NIGHT.
Wife :
Well, love, what shall we do to-night;
Bead, or attend the play ?
Or have a private talk,
The first in many a day ?
Husband :
.futttas y,u please, I’ll soon be back ;
Business of very g-cax
Importance, love, comes off to-night— j
I must not let them wait.
FRIDAY NIGHT.
Wife :
My love, just clasp this pin for me,
And Charles, pray hand my shawl;
You know you promised me to-day,
To take me to the ball.
Husband ;
I know J diil, but, really, love,
1 had forgot it all,
And promised 1 would go to-night
Some members to install.
I hate to disappoint you, dear,
I know it is provoking,
But when you spoke of it to-day,
1 really thought you joking.
SATURDAY NIGHT.
Wife.-
There, take the baby, Charles ; all d*y
lie’s lain upon my lap—
This evening you eau watch him, while
I take a little nap.
Husband :
Poor little thing how pale he looks,
1 hope he won’t get worse ;
There’s an election held to-night,
Klse I’d stay home and nurse.
SUNDAY NIGHT.
Wife :
Dear Charles, here’s your cloak and hat,
And overshoes, all warm,
1 hope you won’t stay lute to-night,
There’s such a dreadful storm.
Husband :
Nut stay out late ? you don’t suppose
1 really could intend
To leave my dearest wife alone
Her evening hours to spend !
Just place my slippers by the fire,
And wheel that pleasant light
llighl by my eozv rocking-chair—
Well stay at home to-night.
•A Yankee Portrait. ’
BY REV. JOHN PIERPONT.
The Yankee boy before he’s sent to school,
Well knows the mystery of that magic tool,
The pocket knife. To ’.hat hU w istful eye
Turns while ha hears his mother’s lullaby-;
His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it,
Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it.
And in the education of the lad,
No little part that implement hath had;
His pocket-knife to the young whitler brings,
A growing knowledge of material things.
Projectiles, music, aud the sculptor’s art—
llis ehesnut whistle and his shingle dart,
liis elder pop-gun with its hickory rod,
Its sharp explosion and rebounding wad ;
His cornstalk-fiddle, atrd the deeper tone
That murmurs from his pompion leaf trombone,
Conspire to teach the boy. To these succeed
Ilis bow and arrow of a feather’d reed,
His windmill raised the passing breeze to win,
Ilis water wheel that turns upon a pin ;
Or if his father lives upon the shore,
You’ll see his ship ‘beam-ends upon the floor,’
Full-rigged with raking masts and timbers staunch.
Thus by hie genius and his jack-knife given,
*II’II solve you any problem under heaven ;
Make any jimciaek, musical or mute,
A plough, a coach, an organ or a flute,
Make you a locomotive . r a dock,
Cut a canal or build a floating dock,
Or lead forth beauty from a marble block.
Make anything, in short for sea or shore,
From a child’s rattle to a seventy-four—
Make it, said I ? aye, when ho undertakes it,
lie’ll make the thing and the machine that make it.
And when the thing is made —whether it be
To move on earth, in air, or ou the *ea ;
Whether on water, or the waves to glide,
Or on the land to roll, revolve, or slide;
Whether to whirl, or jar, to strike, or ring,
Whether it be a pistol, or a spring,
Wheel, pully, tube sonorous, wood or brass,
The thing designed shall surely come to pass ;
For when his hand's upon it you may know
Ihat there’s go in it, and he’ll make it go.
Written for the Eagte and Enquirer.
The ‘Long Ago.’
BT L. Virginia SMITH,
You are far away, my Lida,
And the April breezes blow,
O’er the hills of ‘Allaquida’
Where we wandered long ago,
When the sunny hours of childhood
Swept like singing streams along,
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 8, 1852.
And the valley and the wild wood
Eelioed to our merry song ;
W hen we used to run bright races
With the sunshine on the hill, —
O’er those old familiar places
Does the sunbeam linger still?
Do you ever think, ma mignonne ,
Os that pleasant long ago,
Flitting like a fairy’s pinion
With its evanescent glow ?
When our little hearts kept beating
Still a loving inusic-chime,
Like two tiny wavelets meeting
In some happy Eden-clime.
And the thrill of gushing gladness,
Springing up we knew not how,
Never tinged with aught of sadness, —
Does it thrill your bosom now ?
Do you ever wander, Sister
By that lonely, bushy bank,
Where the crimson lilies cluster
’Mid the rushes long and dark ?
Where whene’er we went a nutting
We would rest at oven tide,
On the tocky ledges jutting
From the bosky dingle side ;
Robins built beneath tho arches,
And a blue-bird in a bough
Os the over-hanging larches, —
Do you ever hear them now ?
Can’st recall the legends olden
Os that shadow-haunted dull,
Where tho sunlight green and golden.
Most fantastically fell ?
And the range of ‘mossy mountains’
\V here sweet ‘Allaquida’s bower,
Rose beside the forest-fountains,
’Neath a jewel-dropping shower
Os the hazel’s pearly tassols,
And the maple’s ruby sbeen,
Which the winds, her fairy vassal*
Poured around the ‘lndian-Queen.’
Then the jolly rides at morning
Ou the jiony sleek and old,
Every danger proudly scorning
On the upland bleak and bold.
And the search for silver fishes
Wading in the crystal pool,
(Just the spot to suit our wishes,)
At the noontide clear and cool.
How the tiny billows tinkled
O’er the pebbles and the net,
And your little white feet twinkled,
Oh ! I think I see them yet!
Yes, I see you often Lida,
As you used to look when wo
Dwelt at ‘bonnie Allaquida’
With the bird and breeze nnd bee.
Laughing eyes of limpid azure
A nd the snowy baby-brow
Peeping from the gold embrazure
Os its curls, — I see it now !
Then I wish that God had laid us
Down to slumber in the wild,
For his love would then have made us
Each His little angel-child !
MISCELLANY.
Three Wolves and a Lamb.
An Italian Story.
Three robbers were walking by tbe road-side
one evening, after a day of profitless anxiety.
‘lt’s a pity,’ said one of them, ‘that we can do
no better than this. lam unwilling to let a day
pass without some gain.’
‘Here is a chance,’ said another; and as they
looked up they saw on the brow of a hill before
them a man tiding on a donkey, by a string
leading a sheep with a bell attached to its neck.
‘I will steal that sheep,’ said the first of the
robbers.
‘You cannot,’ said the second ; ‘do you not
perceive the cord and the bell ?
‘You cannot,’ said the first; ‘but they pre
sent no obstacle to me. I'll steal that sheep ?’
Ts you do,’ said the second, ‘l'll steal that
donkey.’
‘What!’ said the third, ‘steal a man’s donkey
from under him ! You cannot.’
‘You will soon know better,’ said tbe second.
Ts vou do,’ said the third, ‘l’ll steal all the
clothes the man has upon him or forfeit my pre
tensions to professional excellence.’
‘l3ah !’ said the other two, ‘you will attempt
what you cannot accomplish.’
‘We will see,’ said the third.
The unsuspecting man was plodding along
without thoughts of injury, when the first rob
ber approached and cut the cord and bell from
the sheep's neck, and attached the bell to the
donkey's tail, where its jingle continued to be
heard.
In due time the man looked behind to ob
serve the condition of his sheep, and to his hor
ror found it was gone ? In dismay and distress,
he appealed to the first person he met, and
asked if he had seen any one with a sheep.
‘Yes,’ replied the person, ‘I saw a man clam
bering down the hill side with such a prize; but
I thought it was his own.’
‘Hold my donkey fora moment,’ said the man,
and as the person did so, he went in the wrong
direction in pursuit of the robber and his sheep.
Finding, however, that his pursuit was vain, he
returned, tired and breathless, to where he had
left his donkey. But lo! it was not there! —
Sheep and donkey both were stolen from him !
Sad and perplexed, he sat down to reflect, aud
to grieve over his losses; but soon he heard the
wailing of someone in distress, lie listened
for a moment, and the sound became more au
dible.
‘What is this ?’ he said. ‘Can any one be
more miserable than I V
But the cry of anguish became louder and
still louder. He hastened to the place whence
it proceeded, and there beheld a man weeping
as though there was no comfort for him.
‘What is this, my friend V said he. How are
you afflicted ?’
‘Alas !’ said the man,‘l atn ruined forever!’
‘Ruined !’ said he,‘how are you ruined?’
‘I came to this well for a draught of water,’
he replied, ‘and while I drank, I let drop a cost
ly- gem, and it lies beneath the water.’
‘ls that all ?’ said he.
‘All!’ exclaimed the other, ‘it is of great
worth.
‘So it may be,’ said the honest man; ‘but I
have lost my sheep and donkey, which I was
unwillingly about to sell at the next market
town, that I might pay off some pressing debts;
vet I do not bewail my loss.’
‘What’s that loss,’ the other replied, compared
to inv loss of a gem worth thousands of ducats,
and “without which it would only cost me my
life to return to the king my master, who sent
me with it as a gift to a royal friend beyond the
the seas V
‘Why do you not go down into the water
and recover it?’ asked the man.
‘Alas !’ said the other, I cannot swim; I would
only drown.’
‘Then I will go down foryou,’ said the good
honest man.
‘Will you ?’ exclaimed the other. ‘Do so, and
here are four golden pieces for your pains, more
than the sum of all your losses ; at:d if you re
gain my treasure, I shall forever owe you my
gratitude.’
The honest man received the pieces of gold
and placed them in his pocket, and then took
off his clothes and descended iuto the water, —
But after a long and careful search he came out
of the well to ask the stranger on which side
his gem had fallen; when lo ! iie was gone!
and the poor countryman was without sheep, or
donkey, or clothing— there all alone by the
brink of a deep well—and the robbers were all
far away with the trophies of their artful ro
guei7’
From the Joaryxil of Commerce.
Messrs. Editors I wrote to a friend in Ma
ryland a few days since, and expressed a wish
to him that some good luck might occur to make
him rich. The following reply seems to me
worthy of general perusal, and I send it to you
for publication. Yours, A SUBSCRIBER.
Cumberland, Md.
My Dear Friend: —But lam rich! I have
got a boy whose eyes sparkle like ‘jewels of
the mine,’ and whose smiles are purely An
gelic, and there is so much of heaven in his face
that, when I see him, I am out of the ills of this
life. Why, I have such tranquility, such bliss,
that the moments flying are of more value, each
of them, than the brightest sands of California.
I am rich ! fur I daily witness scenes in the
‘drama’ of the World’s aft’airs that make me
humble, make me thoughtful, make me thank
ful, make me charitable, make me peaceful.
1 am rich ! for 1 live in an age big with events
of the World’s progress. In my boyhood I read
of the stirring scenes of the American Revolu
tions ; of the Meteoric whirl of Napoleon; of
all such events as would lire the mind of youth,
and 1 wished that I cuulJ live at a time when 1
could be in the midst of such mighty events ;
and now here I am, at u period in the history
of the World more interesting than any before
it; when there is a more general development
of mind than ever before; when there are
mightier revolutions than ever before, and not
so much by leading individual spirits, as by a
universal and voluntary spirit pervading all clas
ses.
There was a time when the poet sang thus :
“ How fleet is the glance of the mind !
Compared with tho speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift winged arrows of light!’’
Not so could he sing now, for we follow in
the lightning's wake and are up with the ‘glance
Os tliuu-M.*
1 urn rich for I witness the struggle for the
gold of California; the lives sacrificed, the des
perate reaching forth of tottering old age for
that gold which it worships in the rays of the
setting sun, and I am happy that current has
not borne me thither.
lam rich! for 1 have a virtuous mind, and
have no relish for the society of tho dissolute
and vicious; aud their pleases,to ne, seem
all blackness.
lam rich! for I have a peaceful mind, and
though the vicissitudes of life have been many
and severe to me, their effect upon my mind
has been such that the retrospect is softened, and
I look hack upon my experience, and a dream
like vista welcomes my view. lam at times an
noyed in my pecuniary affairs, and I feel that
destiny has given me to a service that is unworthy
of me; but I rally from the influence of those
stings when I can, as the tree rises when the
storm has passed by, and 1 have hours of tran
quility that afford me a balance for all the trials.
Look out from your window; perchance you
see the fine carriage and the trappings of wealth
(which things Ido not object to; I speak not
of them in a cynical way)—gay in dress may
be the occupants, but pessibly the weight of
sorrow upon their hearts, if expressed in pounds
would stop the wheels of that carriage. Such
reflections must teach us that we each have our
share of wealth in the true sense of that word.
I live on, and in trouble something always
comes to my rescue; and my wish to be rich
is prompted less by a desire for my own grati
fication, than to be able to reciprocate acts of
kindness I have experienced from others.
You see that 1 turn at the touch of your pen
to show you that the sun shines here, and that
it is not such a serious thing to live, and, taken
all in all, this world is about what it was inten
ded to be. Yours truly.
‘Just this once’ or the Rule Broken.
‘Just this once’ says the fond mother to her
self, as she allows the cake or sweetmeat to slip
into the mouth of her darling, in spite of her
rules for preserving health. It is but a crumb,
and how unkind to refuse the friend that so ten
derly offers it; and then, just for once, it can
do no harm. T must pacify my child this time,
at any rate,’ says the mother, pressed with the
hurry- of business. ‘I may grant an unallowed
indulgence, in such a case as ihis t and just for
once,’ says she to herself. In the confusion,
sometimes, occasioned by company-, where the
mistress does not preserve her calmness and self
possession, her disturbed manner necessarily
propagating itself through the family, down to
the youngest child—then is an urgent case;
and the child must be kept quiet at any price,
‘just this once,’says the y ielding mother.
A little child is learning to go to bed alone ;
the point is nearly gained, but something oc
curs to disturb its habits, raise a spirit of rebel
lion. The mother perhaps is called away in the
midst, and she directs that it be rocked to sleep,
this once; and so the whole work is undone;
ave,more than undone.
The child throws down its hat or gloves—
the mother finds them, and does not exert her
self to enforce the rule that should send them
to their place : ‘it is no matter, just this once ;
another time l will talk loud and long.’ Some
times the child (and happy it is if it is never
a young lady,) is suddenly called togo abroad;
and then the agitation, hurry and confusion, be
cause the hat, cloak, or gloves are misplaced.
They did not happeu to be put iu place, ‘just
this once.’
Rules had better not be made, if there is not
firmness enough in the mind that makes them
to resist the least temptation. In none of the
ways of private life do we more see the want of
the steady principle than in the mangementof
little children, from the first breath they draw.
In some happy exceptions there is a native firm
ness of‘temper in the parent; or where this is
wanting, it is supplied by principles directed by
conscience, and accompanied by an earnest ef
fort after such a steady adherence to their prin
ciples as will not yield to any earthly feeling or
solicitation.
There is a way of denying the wishes, and
vet of leaving the mind of the child in a plea
ant state; and it may be learned and practised
by all parents. This firmness of principle d>*es
not involve a constant series of denial* towards
the child—for it soon learns what to expect;
and no one is quicker than a child to under
stand a rule wherein itself is concerned, and to
notice, too, the least deviation from it. These
occasional compliances lead to the destruction
of all principle; the effect on the parent is en
feebling to his own character, and ynjLke child,
to foster an uneasy- and a disobedient temper, to
subject it to the dominion of passion, and to
lead on to evil consequences, more numerous
than the power of human intellect can com
pute. La Jkune Mere.
The Panther.
The Peoria Register, a paper which frequent
ly instructs and amuses us with anecdotes con
nected with the settlement of the Western
country, furnishes us with the following sketch,
which it says was related by a gentleman of
great respectability, living near the spot where
the circumstances occurred:
In the latter part of the bloody tragedy, which
spread dismay throughout his part of the State,
there were about nine hundred Indians encamp
ed on the Illinois river, opposite to the present -
town site of DeSalle, composed principally of
the Iroquois tribe. They had always main.-,
tained a friendly intercourse with the whites-in
the vicinity, and had manifested a great partiali
ty for one in particular. This was ‘Old Myers,’
a perfect prototype of Cooper’s trapper. This
State was the fifth in which he had erected his
hut in advance of a white population. He had
of course acquired more of the habits of Indians
than of civilized men,and was familiarly known!
among them as ‘The Panther’ —a title which he*
had acquired from them by a daring exploit in
killing animals of that name, when leading them
in one of their wild hunts. At the periqd re
ferred to, these Indians rallied under the Black
Hawk standard, and were committing many
depredations upon the settlers in the vicinity.
When repulsed they did not hesitate to murder
their friends and companions. About the cabin
of the Panther, nearly a hundred settlers had
come in for the safety of their wives and chil
dren, placing them under his protection. But
among the victims of savage barbarity, there
happened to he a brother-in-law of the Panther,
with his wife and three children. Here they
committed an unpardonable outrage upon the
family of their ancient friend and demi-savage.
When the sad tidings of their cruel fate had
reached the garrison, the Panther was seen
clothing himself in a battle array. With his
rifle, his tomahawk, in open day, he silently
bent his way to the Indian quarters about one
mile distant. Fearlessly he marched into the
midst of the savage band, leveled his rifle at the
Wood oLiut’ present, and deliberately killed him
on the spot. He then severed the lifeless head
from the trunk and held it up by the hair before
the awestruck multitude, exclaimed,‘You have
murdered my brother, his wife, aud their three
little ones, and iiov I have killed your chief. I
am now even with you;’ but he added, ‘every
one of you that is found here to-morrow morn
ing at sunrise is a dead Indian.’ AH this was
accomplished by the Panther without the least
molestation. They knew that he would take
vengeance for their deed of blood, and silently
acknowledged the justice of the daring act.
He then bore off the head in triumph to his
cabin. The next morning not an Indian could
be found in all that region. They left forever
their homes and their dead, and that part of the
State has not been molested by them since.
A few weeks since, this veteran of eighty win
ters sold his claim, caparisoned with the same
hunting shirt and weapons which he wore when
he killed the chief, and started for Missouri.—
After travelling a few rods, he returned and
asked permission to give his ‘grand yell.’ The
gentleman to whom lie sold the land giving his
assent, lie gave a long, loud and shrill whoop,
that made the welkin ring for miles around.—
‘Now,’ said he, ‘my blessing is on the land and
on you; your ground will always prosper.’ Again
he took up his march for anew home in the
wilderness, where he could enjoy the happiness
of solitude undisturbed by socialities.
An Electrical Factory.
The following remarkable phenomenon con
nected with frictional electricity, developed at a
tread-mill in this city, may prove interesting to
many of your scientific readers, as it affords a
strong connecting link in the chain of evidence,
establishing the identity of the electricities de
veloped by friction and by chemical action.
For sometime past, the hands employed at
the factory in which this occurrence takes place,
have been seriously annoyed by receiving smart
sparks and shocks, when approaching or hand
ling tbe machinery. The construction of the
mill is that of a number of flats or floors one
above another, laid over with a coating of as
phalte, on which the machines are placed, bolted
to a sole plate of iron.
The ceilings are supported by aseries of iron
columns running down the centre of each floor,
and having connection with the earth—but ow
ing to the circumstances of theasphaltum floor,
in a state of tolerable insultation as regards the
machines. The power is derived by drum shafts,
running parallel to the wall, and supported on
hanging brackets attached to lateral iron beams,
in connection with the columns; motion being
communicated to the machinery by leather and
gutta purcha belts. Each floor of the factory
therefore, assumes the condition of a vast elec
trical machine, the lathes representing the prime
conductor, and the drums and belts the exciting
medium. As may he supposed under these
circumstances, the amount of fluid continually
generated is something considerable,and likely to
have caused much discomfort to the work-people
at a time when their lathes were not in connec
tion with the earth.
The result of my experiments may be staled
as follows : The electricity- developed at shaft
and drums—negative ; that at the lathes- posi
tive. When the current of electricity was con
nected so as to flow through a jar of solution
into the earth, a feeble but continuous stream
of gas was liberated at the electrodes. The
most remarkable experiment, however, was in
its power of inducing continuous magnetism in
a bar of soft iron, surrounded with a helix in
the manner of a voltaic magnet. The magne
tism there developed deflected a magnet either
way ; and had a sensible effect on the suspen
sion of a small bar of iron at the poles of the
magnet, which exhibited in all respects the phe
nomena incidental to the voltaic current. — Lon
don Atheneum.
The flight of time is swift but he is often out
stripped in the race by the more rapid speed of
thought, which crowds the events of years in
to the space of a few moments.
Punctuality to engagements is a species of
conscientiousness—a conscientiousness towards
our neighbor’s time. The gentler sex are sad
ly deficient in it, probably from being less ac
customed to business arrangement* than men.
A Father’s Advice to liis only Daughter.)
WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER HER MARRIAGE.
From thepenof Bishop Madison,of Virginia,
to his daughter residing in Richmond.
My Dear :—\ ou have just entered into that
state which is replete with happiness or misery.
The issue depends upoh tha# prudent, amiable,
uniform conduct, which wisdom and virtue so
strongly recommend, on the one hand, or on
that imprudence, which a want of reflection, or
passion, may prompt, on the other.
You are allied to a man of honor, of talents, j
and of an open, generous disposition. You
have, therefore, in your power, all the essential
ingredients of domestic happiness ; it cannot be
tnarred,if you reflect upon that system of con
duct which you ought invariably to pursue —if
you now see clearly the path from which you
will resolve never to deviate. Our conduct is
often the result of whim or caprice, often such
will give us many a pang, unless we see before
hand, what is always the most praiseworthy and
the most essential to happiness.
The flrst maxim which you should impress
deeply upon vour mind, is, never to attempt to
control your husband by opposition, by displea
sure, or any other mark of anger. A man of
sense, of prudence, of warm feelings, cannot,
and will not bear an opposition of any kind,
which is attended with an angry look or expres
sion. The current of his affections is suddenly
stopped ; his attachment is weakened ; he be- i
gins to feel a mortification the most pungent;
he is belittled even in his own eyes; and, be as
sured, the wife who once excites those senti
ments in the breast of a husband, will never
regain the high ground which she might and
ought to have retained. When he marries her,
if he be a good man, lie expects from her smiles,
not frowns; he expects to find in her one who
control him—not to take from him the
freedom of acting as his own judgment shall
direct; but one who will place such confidence
in him as to believe that his prudence is his best
guideJ Little things, what in reality are more
trifles in themselves, often produce bickerings,
and evdn quarrels. Never permit them to be
a subject of dispute; yield them with pleasure,
with a smile of affection. Be assured that one
difference outweighs them all a thousand, or ten
thousand times. A difference with your hus
band ought to be considered as the greatest
calamity—as one that is to be must studiously
guarded against; it is a demon which must
never be permitted to enter a habitation where
all should be peace, unimpaired confidence and
heartfelt affection. Besides, what can a woman
gain by her opposition or her differences! No
thing. But she loses everything, she loses* her
husband’s respect for Iter virtue, she loses Lis
love, and with that, a prospect of future happi
ness. She creates her own misery, and then
utters idle and silly complaints, utters them in
vain. The love of a husband can be retained
only by the high opinion which he entertains of
his wife’s goodness of heart, of her amiable dis
position, of the sweetness of her temper, of her
prudence and of her devotion to him. Let no
thing, upon any occasion, ever lessen that opin
ion. On tbe cmitrary, it should augment every
day; he should have much more reason to ad
mire her for those excellent qualities which will
cast a lustre over a virtuous woman, when her
personal attractions are no more.
Has your husband stayed out longer than
you expected ? When he returns receive him
as a partner of your heart. II as ho disappointed
you in something you expected, whether of
ornament or furniture, or of any convenience ?
Never evince discontent, receive his apology
with cheerfulness. L>oes he, when you ate
housekeeper,invite company without informing
you of it, or bring home with him a friend?
Whatever may be your repast, however scanty
it may be, however impossible it may be to add
to it, receive them with a pleasing countenance,
adorn your table with cheerfulness give to your
husband or your company a heart welcome; it
will compensate for every other deficiency; it
will evince love for your husband, good sense
in yourself, and that politeness of manners which
acts as the most powerful charm ; it will give to
the plainest fare a zest superior to all that luxury
can boast. Never be discontented on any oc
easion of this nature.
In the next place, as your husband's success
in hi* profession will depend upon his populari
ty, and as the manners of a wife have no little
influence in extending or lessening the respect
and esteem of others for her husband, you
should take care to be affable and polite to tho
poorest as well as the richest. A reserved
haughtiness is a sure indication of a weak mind
and an unfeeling heart.
With respect to your servants, teach them to
respect and love you, while you expect from
them a reasonable discharge of their respective
duties. Never tease yourself or them by scold
ing; it has no other effect than to render them
discontented and impertinent. zVdmonish them
with a calm firmness.
Cultivate your own mind by the perusal of
those books which instruct while they amuse.
Do not dovote much of your time to novels;
there are a few which maybe useful in improv
ing and in giving a higher tone to our moral
sensibility; but the}’ tend to vitiate the taste,
aud to procure a disrelish for substantial, food
Most plays are of the same cast; they are not
friendly to the delicacy, which is one of the or
naments of the female character. History,
Geography, Poetry, Moral Essays, Biography,
Travels, Sermons and other well written religi
ous productions, will not fail to enlarge your un
derstandings, to render you a most agreeable
companion, aud to exalt your virtue. A woman
devoid of rational ideas of religion, lias no se
curity for her virtue ; it is sacrificed to her pas
sions, whose voice, not that of God, is her only
governing principle. Besides, in those hours
of calamity to which families must be exposed,
where will she find support, if it be not in her
just reflections upon that all-ruling Providence
which governs tho universe, whether animate
or inanimate.
Mutual politeness between the most intimate
friends is essential to that harmouy which should
never be once broken or interrupted. How im
portant then is it between man and wife ! The
more warm the attachment, the less will either
partner bear to be slighted or treated with tho
smallest degree of rudeness or inattention. This
politeness, then, if it be not in itself a virtue, is
at least the means of giving to real goodness a
new lustre; it is the means of preventing dis
content, and even quarrels; it is the oil of inter
course ; it removes asperities, aud gives to eve
rything a smooth and pleasing movement.
I will only add, that matrimonial happiness
does not depend upon weal h ; uo, it is not to
be fouud in wealth; but in minds properly tem
pered and united to our respective situations.
Competency is necessary ; all beyond that point
is ideal. Do notsuppose,however,thatl would
not advise your husband to augment his pro
perty by all honest arid commendable means. I
would wish to see him actively engaged in such ,
a pursuit, because engagement, a sedulous em
ployment, in obtaining some laudable end, is
essential to happiness. In the attainment of a
fortune by honorable means, particularly by pro
fessional exertions, a man derives particular
satisfaction, in self applause, as well as from the
increasing estimation in which he is held by
those around him.
In the management of your domestic concerns,
let prudence and wise economy prevail. Let
neatness, order and judgment be seen in all
your different departments. Unite liberality
! with a just frugality ; always reserve something
j for the hand of charity; never let your door be
closed to the voice of suffering humanity. Your
servants, in particular, will have the strongest
claim upon your charity, let them be well fed,
well clothed, nursed in sickness, and never un
justly treated.
A Fighting Candidate.
Mr. Wise, in a speech in the late Democratic
Convention in Virginia, made the following re
feience to one of their Presidential candidates :
“ There was a young man in the navy, a pet
of Decaturs—the most gallant soul that ever
lived, who actually stormed Gibraltar. [A voice,
‘The Gibraltar of W higgery ?’] No, the Gi
braltar at the mouth of the Mediterranean. The
young man referred to, a midshipman in tho
navy, went ashore at Gibraltar one day. It was
at the time when British officers were in the
habit of insulting Americans whenever they
could be found. While this young man was in
Gibraltar, two British officers commenced tra
ducing the American character, and he imme
diately laid down the gauntlet, with the under
standing that the laws of the garrison were not
to l>e enforced. They met upon the outworks
of the fort, and this young man ‘plugged’ Lis
antagonist. The companion of the British offi
cer immediately advanced to arrest the midship
man as a prisoner. Incensed at the violatiou
of the promise solemnly made, he caught the
officer in his arms, and giving him a close hug,
threw himself over the parapet, and thus locked,
they rolled over and over to the bottom, in
which effort he broke bis leg. A sergeant at
tached to the fort pursued the midshipman ou
horseback, but on coming up to him, the mid
shipman threw him off, and taking possession of
his horse, made his escape to the boat. After
wards be went on board the British flag ship,
and challenged the whole fleet, lie met three
British officers, one after another, and the result
was, if I have been correctly informed, a regu
lation was made, that if any British officer
should thereafter fight a duel, he would be ca
shiered the service. This young man was Ro
bert F. Stockton. The premise of the boy lias
been redeemed in the man. You all know what
he and and in California, where he carried his sail
ors on shore, and made them perform military
duty, although it was said in the Florida war
tnat sailors could comprehend but one military
command and that
Raisin? che price of Rar<K
At the time of general Taylor's inauguration,
a long, tall, hungry, ungainly fellow, whose
hands hung as low as his kaecs when he stood
up straight, made his appearance at Coleman's
and look lodgings, lie sat pretty near the end
of the table every day at dinner, and ate inordi
nately. Soup, fish, flesh, fowl, desert, his enor
mously long arms kept sweeping round like
the arms of a huge windmill, gathering in ev
erything that fell within the arcs of a circle
they described.
His voracity and beastly gluttony so disgust
ed the other boarders, that about a dozen of
them went to Coleman and told him that he
must get rid of the fellow or they would posi
tively quit the house.
Coleman reflected awhile, and finally thought
he had hit upon a plan. So he took the fellow
aside, and told him that, owing to the unsual
crowd of people in the city, and plethora of
every hotel and boarding-house, provisions had
become scaice and high, and he found that he
was losing money, and should be compell
ed to raise ttie price of board from two dollars
and a half to three dollars a day.
‘Don't’ said the fellow, ‘don’t do it! I shall
die it you do. It nearly kills vie now to eat
two dollars and a half ‘s worth, and if you
raise the price to three dollars, I shall die in
two days. Don't do it., if you please !’
We heard the following interesting conversa
tion, a few days since, between two candidates
for academic honors:
‘Bill, spell cat, hat, rat, bat, fat, with only ono
letter for each word.
‘lt can’t be did.’
‘What! you just ready to report verbatim,
phonetically, and can’t do that? Just look
here! cBO cat, r 80 rat, hBO hat, bBO bat, fBO
fat.’
‘Oh ! well, for such short words it may do,
but when you eotne to Ompoinpanoosuc anti
Michillimackinac you cant come the suction.’—
Exeunt Speakers, whistling the‘March of rnind.’
A maiden lady, suspecting her female servant
was regaling her beau upon the cold mutton
of the larder, called Betty and inquired wheth
er she did net hear someone speaking with
her down stairs ? “Oh no, marn,” replied the
<rirl “ it was only me singing a psalm !’* “You
may amuse yourself, Betty,” replied the maiden,
with psalms but let’s have no hims, Betty. I
have a great objection to blms.” Betty court
sied, withdrew and look the hint.
A late German writer says that Gothio arch
itecture is petrified religion.
\\ e are ready to condemn the treachery of
our memories, but slow to question llu> sound
ness ot our judgment.
Io most men, experience is like the stern
light ol a ship, which illumines only the track
it has passed.
Do not think yourself polished until you-have
learned to speak and act on all occasions so as.
not to wound the feeding* of ethers.
A good action is its own reward.
Hasty climbers have sudden falls.
Attempt not to fly like an e?gle with the wings
of a wren.
Do good with what tbou hast or it will da
thee no good.
A punctual man can always find leisure, a
negligent one never.
I he mind, in proportion as it is expanded,
exposes a larger suilace to impression.
Never fly from difficulties that you can over
come.
None are afraid of contempt, but those who
feel con Sri ou that they deserve it.
An Indian rubber omnibus is about being
invented, which, wheu full, will bold a coup
le more.
NO. 5,