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A FAMILY NEWSPAPER,--DIVGTFD TO LITERATEfjRE, SCIENCE, AST, POLITICS k GENERAL INTELLIGENCE.
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I THE POET’S CORNEH.
For the Georgia Citizen,
Genevieve. *
BV T. SI.f.N'DEItFORD, ESQ.
■ It was a bahny summer eve,
When first I tnet sweet Genevieve ;
| The stars, that gem the robe of night,
b i\nJ sprinkle down a silvery light,
■ Seemed liquid, like tlie eye of love,
§ Su mildly beamed they from above.
L We'd sought the fairest flowers to weave
I A crown for bine eyed Genevieve ;
I For she, the May Queen was to be,
R And crowned boneath the pie nic tree ;
| And when night closed the dewy flowers,
1 We danced away its honied hours.
1 Three years had circled, since that eve
ft Ere dared 1 breath to Genevieve,
H The love, that in my heart did dwell
■ Like ceaseless music of the shell;
I Still speaking in unvaried tone
I ‘Thou art my life—De thou my own.’
K I saw her gentle bosom heave,
I And know she was my Genevieve,
Site could not speak,—she did but press
I My hand in loving tenderness—
| Our bidden love, at once revealed,
Gushed forth, a fountain now unsealed.
But alt! witli darkened hope I grieve—
Thou art early fled, my Genevieve—
Grief s shadows darkly gloom the brow,
M here played thy lingering smile but now—
Like sunset, thou hast left the night,
To soar through unseen realms of light.
Endurance.
‘lf thou faint in the day of adversity thy strength is
small.’—Prov. xxiv. 10.
Faint not beneath thy burthen, though it seem
Too heavy for thee, and thy strength is small;
Though the fierce raging of the noontide beam
On thy defenceless head untempered fall.
Though sad and heartsick with the weight of wo
That to the earth would crush thee—journey on ;
hat though it be with faltering steps and slow,
I Lou wilt forget the toil when rest is won,
-'>v,murmur not because no kindred heart
May share thy burthen with thee —but alouo
F J struggle bravely on, though all de-part;
” is so said that ‘each must bear his own ?’
-L. haie not equally the power to bless ;
And of many, few could cheer our lot,
,au knoweth its own bitterness
And with its joy a stranger meddleth not.’
I-tn be not faithless though thy soul be dark,
L not thy Master's seal upon thy brow ?
’ , ‘ t h s his presence saved thy sinking bark,
Aad thinkest thou He will forsake thee now ?
dLdi je not bid thee east on Him thy care,
Bnvmg He careth for thee ? Then arise !
* M 1 ) path, if trod in faith and prayer,
l |,s s Fiall turn to flowers of Paradise.
from the Memphis Eagle and Enquirer.
’ ol * the Ocean Wave.”
T* n EY franklin pierce,
‘ ngo< ‘ leF G ">cral, uho ashed and received six ‘
LtllS l )a y an d rations in advance !
” A life on the ocean wave, 1 ’
A wreck on an ‘lsland sea !*
>ere t!ie fresh water billows rave,
1 ■ the snug and the sawyer for me !
’ \ “ I ' oll t crouch for my prey—
A >r heed the wild hurricane’s roar:
•• tie \ eto, the Veto, for me,
t tor 't “ hispers of vessels on shore:
‘ J - “i‘d thunder mocks from afar
Ah . the mariner’s out of mj reach!
Uln °! stl e strikes on the Bar!
•’h soon will s he dash on the beach,
i ire y to the piping blast:—
_ A wreck on the sandy shore—
-10 et o’ has triumphed at last,
praise is the hurricane’s roar.
le ‘ an< d is now bounding the view,
” e are borne on the swift-running tide,
Jtj t liark! from that vessel and crew,
, i |at means the wild cry as they ride ?
5 a saw yer is piercing her through!
A snag is upripping her deck !
it die I eto ! the -Veto for me !
I or our noble steamer’s a wreck!
0!l • praise thyn the Veto of ‘Polk !*
Let TIERCE’ be our rallying cry—
-t the song of eur hearts go up——
W hile his votes in Congress go by !
or there's ‘life 0 n the ocean wave,’
W bile there’s death on our ‘inland sea ;’
* o power’ is given to save—
Oh! PIERCE and the VETO for me!
rejft,, !l3 r in love generally resolve first and
a r terwards.
————■ —im In i iinuni hii uni —i■ n ii _
HIIBCELLAHY.
Thomas Jefferson and John Adams.
Ihere is no chapter in American history vvhch
can be read with more unalloyed pleasure than
that which tells us of thu friendship which
niai ked the last years of these devoted patriots.
They had been rivals—the beads of contending
excited parties. Each in his turn has been pre
ferred by the American people to the other,
for the highest office within their gift. They
themselves had put taken of the bitterness of
the conflict; so much so, that when Jefferson
“as elected to fill the Presidential chair in place
of Adams, (says a cotemporary,) the latter broke
over all the ordinary rules of courtesy, so far as
to leave Washington suddenly on the evening
of the 3d of March, because lie would not re
main to witness the inauguration of his rival on
the 4th. Yet these men, (says the same writer,)
these American patriots, when their political
campaigns were over, and they retired, the one
to his Monticello, and the other to his Monte
zillo, and were passing quietly down the vale
ot years, these former foes turned to each other
with mutual esteem and mutual affection, and
looked upon each other as brother patriots and
fellow laborers in the greatcause of their coun
try's freedom and prosperity.
While thus in their retirement, walking
thoughtfully
‘On the silent, solemn shore
Os that vast ocean they must sail so soon,’
the following beautiful and touching correspon
dence passed between them. It was about
three years before their simultaneous death,
which occurred on the 4th of July, and the fif
tieth anniversary of our independence.
The letter of Air. Jeffersou was written soon
alter an attack upon him by a ‘Native of Vir
ginia.’ and when there was strong expectation
of a war between Russia and Turkey ; this will
explain some allusions in the letters.
FROM MR. JEFFERSON TO MR. ADAMS.
Monticello, June 1, 1822.
‘lt is very long, my dear sir, since I have
written to yon. My dislocated wrist is now be
come so stifl that I wiite slowly and with pain ;
and, therefore, write as little as 1 can. Yet it
is due to mutual friendship to ask once in a
while how we do ? The papers tell us that Gen.
Starke is off at the age of ninety-three. ***
still lives, at about the same age, cheerful, slen
der as a grass-hopper, and so much without
memory that he scarcely recognizes the mem
bers of his household. An intimate friend of
his called on him not long since. It was diffi
cult to make him recollect who he was, and sit
ting one hour he told him the same story four
times over. Is this life; with lab’ring step
‘To triad our former footsteps? pace the round
Eternal ? to beat and beat
The beaten track—to see what we have seen—
To taste the tasted—o’er palates to descant
Another vintage?
‘lt is, at most, but the life of a cabbage, sure
not worth a wish. YY hen ail our faculties have
left, or are leaving us one by one, sight, hear
ing. memory, every avenue of pleasing sensation
is closed, and atrophy, debility, and malaise
left in their places, when the friends of our
youth are all gone, and a generation is rising
around us whom we know not, is death an evil?
‘When one by one our ticsaie torn,
And friend from friend is snatched forlorn ;
YYhen man is left alone to mourn,
Oh, then, how sweet it is to die !
When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
And films slow gathering dim the sight;
YY'hen clouds obscure the mental light,
”sis nature’s kindest boon to die!’
‘I really think so. I have ever dreaded a
doating age; and my health has been general
ly so good, and is now so good, that I dread it
still. The rapid decline of my strength during
the last winter has made me hope sometimes
that I see land. During summer I enjoy its
temperature; but I shudder at the approach of
winter, and wish I could sleep through it with
the dermouse, and only wake with him in spring,
if ever. They say that Starke could walk about
his room. lam told you walk well anu firmly.
I can only reach tny garden, and that with sen
sible fatigue. I ride, however, daily ; but read
ing is my delight. I should wish never to put
pen to paper; and the more because of the
treacherous practice some people have of pub
lish ing one's letters without leave. Lord Mans
field declared it a breach of trust, and punisha
ble at law. I think it should be a penitentiary
felony; yet you will have seen that they have
drawn me out in the arena of the newspapers.
Although I know it is too late forme to buckle
on the armor of my youth,yet rny indignation
would not permit me passively to receive the
kick of an ass.
‘To turn to the news of the day, it seems that
the cannibals of Europe are going to eating one
another again. A war between Russia and
Turkey is like the battle of the kite and snake,
whichever destroys the other, leaves a destroyer
less for the world.
‘This pugnacious humor of mankind seems
to be the law of his nature, one of the obstacles
to too great multiplication provided in the me
chanism of the Universe. The cocks of the
hen-yard kill one another; bears, bulls, rams,
do the same; and the horse, in his wild state,
kills the young males, until worn down with ago
and war, some vigorous youth kills him. ***, l
hope we shall piovc how much happier for man
the Quaker policy is, and that the life of the
feeder is better than that of the tighter; and it
is some consolation that the desolation by these
maniacs of one part of the earth, is the means
of improving it in other parts. Let the latter
be our office; and let us milk the cow, while
the Russian holds her by the horns, and the
Turk by the tail. God bless you and give you
health, strength, good spirits, and as much iife
as you think worth having.
‘THOMAS JEFFERSON.’
MR. ADAMS’ REPLY.
Montezillo, June 11, 1822.
‘Dear Sir:—Half an hour ago I received, and
this moment have heard read for the third or
fourth time, the best letter that ever was writ
ten by an Octogenarian, dated June Ist. * *
‘1 have not sprained my wrist; but both my
arms and hands are so overstrained that I can
not write a line, l’oor Starke remembered noth
ing and could talk of nothing but the battle ot
Bennington *** is not quite so reduced. I
cannot mount my horse, but I can walk three
miles over a rugged, rocky mountain, and have
done it within a month ; yet I feel when sitting
jn ray chair, as if I could not walk across the
room: my sight is very dim, hearing pretty
good, memory poor enough.
‘I answer your question—is death an evil ?
It is not an evil. It is a blessing to the individ
ual, and to the world ; yet we ought not to w ish
for it till life becomes insupportable. We must
wait with pleasure and convenience of the
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 4, 1852.
Vi ■rgvTMr.ff, ,J i I|T rii n imit ii ■
Great Teacher.’ Winter is as teirible to me as
to \ou. lam almost reduced in it to the life of
a bear or a torpid swallow. I cannot read, but
my delight is to hear others read ; and I tax all
my fiiends most unmercifully and tyranuicallv
against their consent.
Ihe ass has kicked in vain ; all men say the
dull animal has missed the mark.
I his glube is a theatre of war; its inhabi
tants are all heroes. The little eels in vinegar,
and the animalcules iu pepper-water, I believe
are quarrelsome. The bees are warlike as the
Romans, Russians, Britons, or Frenchmen.—
Ants, caterpillars, anil canker-worms, are the
only tribes among whom I have notseen battles,
and Heaven itself, if we believe Hindoos, Jews,
Christians, and Mahometans lias not always
been at peace. YY e need not trouble ourselves
about these things, not fret ourselves because
of evil-doers; but safely trust the ‘Ruler with
his skies.’ Nor need we dread the approach of
dotage, let it come, if it must. **, it seems,
still delights in his four stories; and Starke re
membered to the last his Bennington, and exult
ed in his glory; the worst of the evil is, that
our triends will suffer more by our imbecility
than we ourselves.
* * * * *****
‘ln wishing for your health and happiness, I
am very selfish ; for I hope for more letters.
This is worth more than five hundred dollars to
me, for it lias already given me, and it will con
tin le to give me more pleasure than a thou
sand. Mr. Jay. who is about your age, I am
told, experiences more decay than you do.
1 am your friend,
JOHN ADAMS.
President Jefferson.’
The Last Stroke of Fortune.
Twenty years ago, an old house was still
standing in Cologne, which showed to the street
a frontage of five small windows. It was the
house in which the first painter of the Flemish
school, the immortal Rubens, was born, A. D.
15(7. Sixty years later than this date, the
ground floor was occupied by two old people,
a shoemaker and his wife. The upper story,
which was usually let to lodgers, was empty at
the time we wiite of. Two, however, occupied
the garret. The evening was cold and wet, and
the shoe-maker and his wife were sit'.ing toge
ther in the room below.
‘You had better go up stairs again,’said the
mail to his wile; ‘and see how the poor lady is.
The old gentleman went out early, and has not
been iu since. Has she not taken anything ?’
‘lt is only hall an hour since I was up stairs,
and he had not come in. I look her some broth
up at noon, but she hardly touched it. and I
was up again at three ; she was asleej*then, and
at five she said she should not want anything
more.’
‘Poor lady ! This time of year, ar.d neither
fii e nor warm clothes, and not even a decent bed
to lie on, and yet I am sure she is somebody
or other. Have you noticed the respect with
which the old gentleman treats her?’
‘lf she wants for anything, it is her own fault.
That ring which she wears on her finger would
get her the best of everything.’
Then came a knock at the door, and the wo
man admitted the old man they had just spoken
of, w hose grizzled beard fell down upon his tar
nished velvet coat. The hostess sadly wanted
to have a little gossip with him, but lie passed
by, and, bidding them a short ‘Good night,’
groped his way up the steep and crooked stair
case. On entering the chamber above, a feeble
voice inquired the cause of his long absence.
‘I could not help it,’ ho said. I had been co
pying manuscript, and as I was on my way
here, a servant met me, who was to fetch me to
raise the horoscope of the two ladies who were
passing through ; they were ladies who 1 have
known before. I thought 1 could get a little
money to pay for some simples which will be
of service to you.’
‘I am cold,’
‘lt is fever cold, I will makeyou something
which you must take directly.’
The flame of a small tin lamp sufficed to heat
some water, and the patient having taken what
the old man had provided, was diligently cov
ered up by him with all the clothes and articles
of dress he could find. He stood by her mo
tionless nil he perceived that she was fast asleep
and indeed long after; he then retired into a
small closet and sought repose on the hard
floor.
The uext morning the lady w r asso much bet
ter that her attendant proposed she should en
deavor to leave the house fora moment or two,
and he succeeded in getting her forth as far as
the Place St. Cecilia. It was seldom that she
left the house, for notwithstanding the mean
ness of her dress, there was that about her car
riage which rendered it difficult to avoid un
pleasant observation.
‘Do you see that person yonder?’ she said sud
denly. ‘jf lam not much mistaken, it is cer
tainly the Duke of Guise.’
The stranger’s attention had also been attract
ed, and he had now approached them.
‘ Purlieu ,’ said he, ‘why that is Mascali. YY’hat
are you married?’
‘He does not know me,’ sighed the lady. ‘I
must indeed be altered.’
‘Mascali had, however whispered a single
vvoid in the duke’s ear, and he started as it
struck by a thunderbolt; but instantly recover
ing himself, he hastily uncovered, and bowed
nearly to the ground.
‘I beg your forgiveness,’ he said ; ‘but my
eves are grown so weak, and I could so little
expect to have the honor of meeting you ’
‘For the love of God,’ interrupted the lady,
hastily, ‘name me not here. A title would too
stiangely contrast with my present circumstan
ces. Have you been long in Cologne?’
‘Three days. lam on rny way from Italy. I
took refuge there when our common enemy
drove me forth, and confiscated all my earthly
goods. lam going to Brussels.’
‘And what are your advices from France ? Is
the helm still in the hands of that wretched cai
tiff?’
‘He is in the zenith of his power.’
‘See, my lord duke, your fortunes and my
own are much alike. You, the son ot man who,
had he not too much despised danger, might
well have set the crown on his ow n head, and I,
once the Queen of the mightiest nation in the
universe; and now both of us alike. But adieu.’
she said suddenly, and, drawing herself up,
‘the sight of you, my lord duke, has refreshed
me much, and I pray that fortune once more
may smile upon your steps.’
‘Permit me to attend your majesty to ’
A slight color tingled the lady’s features, as
she answered with a gently commanding tone,
‘Leave us, ray lord duke, it is our pleasure.’
Guise bowed low, and taking the lady’s hand,
lie pressed it reverently to his lips. At the
corner of the street he met someone, to whom
lie pointed out the old lady, and then hastened
away.
The next morning, a knock at the door an-I
nounced a person inquiring fur Monsieur Mas
cali ; she had a small packet for him, and also
a bilLt. Inside this was distinctly written:
‘Two hundred louis dors constitute the whole
of my present fortune; one hutidred 1 send for
your use. Guise.’
And the packet contained a hundred louis
d'ors.
The sum thus obtained sufficed to supply the
wants ol the pair two long years. But the last
louis had been changed, and the lady and her
companion were still without fiiendly succor.
The shoemaker and nis wife had undertaken a
journey to Aix la Chapelle, to take up some
small legacy. It was tLe 13th of February,
1642. A low sound of moaning might have
been beard issuing from the garret; a withered
female torm, more like a skeleton than a thing
ot flesh and blood, was lyii;g on a wretched bed
ot straw in the agonies of death. The moans
grew more and more indistinct; a slight rattling
in the throat was at length the only audible
sound, and this also ceased. An hour later an
old man, dressed in rags and tatters, entered
the chamber. One only word had escaped his
lips as he tumbled up the failing staircase—
‘Nothing! nothing 1’ He drew near the bed
listlessly, but in a moment lie seized an arm of
the corpse with an almost convulsiro motion,
and letting it suddenly fall, he cried :
‘Dead, dead, of hunger, cold and starvation !’
And this lady was Mary of Medicis, wife of
Henry IY , Queen Regent of France, mother of
Louis XIII, ot Isabella Queen of Spain, of Heu
rietta Queen of England, of Christina Duchess
of Savoy, of Gaston Duke of Orleans —dead of
hunger, cold and miseiy; and yet Louis XIII,
the cowardly tool of Richelit-u, his mother’s
murderer, is still called‘the Just.’
The U ords of Songs.—The majority of the stan
zas are little above mere rhyme, and we involuntarily
smile as we think of ‘music’ wedded to ‘immortal
verse.’ Any one who can put ‘heart’ and ‘part’ into
measured length, alternated with ‘love’ and ‘prove,’
seems competent to write a ‘song,’ and forthwith an
unlimited quantity of rubbish is printed. We find
‘love’ dreadfully overdone; the vows, professions, and
regrets, in serenades and tender ballads, are far beyond
the texture that ‘washes and wears.’ Ilt-re is a ran
dmn specimen :
Oh, look from thy lattice, my lady-love, look
The moon’s on the hill, there is light on the brook,
But the sky and the water are darkness to me,
While I see not the night-star that rises in thee.
Don’t let any confiding heart be deceived by such de
clarations ; take our word for it, that Cupid is an im
pudent, hearty, bread-and-butter eating little boy when
he is at home, and won't put up with gloiv-vvorms and
dew-drops for supper, not a bit of it! Wiibin it short
period the above devotion would change to this—
Don t sit up for me, Sophy, I’m going to meet
Two or three pleasant fellows, infArundel-street;
And as ’tis unceitain how late it may he,
YV hy, perhaps I had better come in with the key.
Here’s another protestation from a lady—
I love thy broad and noble brow,
I love thv raven hair,
And never, never shall thou miss
Thy faithful Mary’s care.
Don't believe it. young man ; be fully prepare 1 to miss
a shirt button now and then, and don’t consider your
self unnaturally wronged if you hear something in this
strain—
’Tis true I made the sky blue stock
You now have round your throat;
But as for this, I won't indeed,
I will not mend your coat.
[Eliza Cook’s Journal.
Anecdote of Henry ( lay.
A few years since a friend gave us the following ac
count of a very interesting passage at arms, of which
he was an eye witness, between Henry Clay and John
C. Calhoun, when the latter was Vico President, and
the presiding officer of the Senate, of which Henry
Clay was at that time a member. It occurred during
one of the many famous tariff controversies in which
they engaged during their senatorial careers. Clay
had the floor, his audience had become a little wearied
with the statistical and somewhat siecous argument he
had been pursuing, and failed to bestow the attention to
whicli he was accustomed, when he occupied the floor.
He discovered this as soon as any one, but it was
not his way to talk long to an inattentive audience.—
He paused a moment, long enough to attraet tlie
attention of the Senators, while ho very delibe
rately drew his snuff box from Iks pocket, opened it,
took from it daintily a pinch, and replaced it iu his
pocket. lie then proceeded very slowly, as follows :
Clay, (enulling) ‘I was happy to perceive, Mr.
President, (snuff) that iu the remarks that have fallen
from tho chair (snuff) nothing has been said against
the constitutionality, of the tariff,’ laying great em
phasis on the word constitutionality, and taking along
snuff at the close.
Calhoun. (Speaking with vehemence) ‘lf the gen
tleman from Kentucky refers to any thing that has
fallen from the chair, the chair begs to inform the gen
tleman from Kentucky that he thinks the tariff is de
cidedly unconstitutional.’
Clay , ‘Alas ! then sir, lam reminded of what
within these walls I would gladly forget, the mutability
of all human opinion. It was in 1816,1 think, sir—it
was in 1816, the chair was the most eloquent cham
pion of principles far different from those it is now
pleased to profess.
Calhoun. (Much excited) ‘The chair begs to inform
the gentleman from Kentucky that the constitutionality
of the tariff was not discussed in 1816.’
Clay. ‘True,’ said Mr. Clay, stretching up to his
full height, and raising his-voice till it rang through
every arch in the eapitol, at the same time directing his
fury gaze at the Vice President, ‘True, sir, the consti
tutionality of the tariff was not discussed in 1816, for
at that time no statesman could bo found reckless
enough to peril his reputation by disputing it. — Eve.
Post.
“ Three Scvenleeus.”
We heard a good story, the other day, of an emi
nent joker, (now dead.) who is the father of a great
brood of fast boys. Tlie old gentleman was rather a
strict governor, though, when outside, ho would occa
sionally, ‘let up,’ drink, carouse, and go in for chances.
The hoys knew this —boys generally do, and while
they respected the governor on account of his age,
they positively objected to his propensities for humbug.
One Sunday, the governor was reading the Bible,
when Ez, the eldest boy, procured a set of dice, and
having spotted all the low sides, so that he could not
get less than fifteen, commenced throwing them on a
chair. The governor came to a hard word, looked
up and saw the game. Then came the following con
versation :
Governor —Ez, you boy, Ezeriah! do you know
what day it is ?
Ez—Y'es ; fifteen —Sunday—Seventeen.
Governor—Well then, you go put them things
away* throw them into the stove, no, put them on the
shelf. Get a book, sit down and read.
Ez put the ‘bones’ in his pocket, and got a book;
but, some how or other, out came the dice again !
Ez —Seventeen ! seventeen ! ! seventeen ! ’.!
Governor—(Springing from his chair, and allowing
the Bible to drop ou the floor,) What ? got three sc
vente ns? Good gracious ! Them would hive won
the boss last night!— N. O. Delta.
Preserved Meats.
YY’e are indebted to ihe kindness of a friend,
who 1 .as copied for us, from Fraser’s Magazine,
the following remarks on the preservafion of va
rious substances. They appear to us peculiaily
interesting :
In the year 1799, at a place called Jactual),
Liberia, an enormous elephant was discovered
embedded in a translucent block of ice, up
wards of two hundred feet thick. The animal
was perfect in its entire fabric, as on the day
when it was submerged, and the wolves and
foxes preyed upon its flesh fur weeks.
Upon examination of its bones, the great Cu
vier pronounced it to have belonged to an ani
mal of tlie ante-deluvian world. We might fairly
presume this to be the oldest specimen of pre
served meat on record, and nature was therefore
clearly the first discoverer of the process, al
though she took out no patent, no v made any
secret of her method. The exclusion of the ex
ternal air in this natural process, combining
with the effect of a low degree of temperature
which prevented fermentation taking pl ace in
the tissues themselves, man has long imitated.
In the markets of St. Petersburg, vast quanti
ties of frozen meats are to be found the great
er part of the year, and our own countrymen
have taken advantage of the method to pre
serve Scotch and Irish Salmon for the London
market.
The most scientific and enduring mode of ex
cluding the air from the article to be preserv
ed, has long since been known and extensively
carried out. Good housewives of the old school
would have stared, perhaps, if they could have
been told, whilst boiling and corking down hot
their bottled gooseberies. that they were prac
tising an art, which, when carried out a little
more effectually, would prove one of tlie most
valuable discoveries of modern times. But we
do not exaggerate. The difference between the
bottled gooseberries and the meats preserved in
vacuo, is cnly a question of degree, the art <>f
preserving a few vegtables from year to year,
and of storing up whole herds of oxen and
keeping them, if needs be, till doomsday, de
pends entirely upon the power of pumping out
more or less atmospheric air from the vessels
containing them. The first successful attempt
at preserving meat by this latter process was
made by M. Appart.in France,in the year 1811,
and for his discovery the Emperor rewarded him
with a gift of 12.000 francs. ITis method was
brought soon after to England, and remained
the only one in use until the year 1839, when M.
Fastin sold to Mr. Goldner an improved pro
cess, by which a complete vacuum is formed in
tlie cannistcrs, thereby insuring the preserva
tion of their contents so long as the vacuum is
maintained. This process, which is patented,
is carried on by Messrs. Richie and McCall, in
Houndsdutch, and is really well worth a pass
ing notice.
The room we first enter is the larder. A
Lord Mayor would faint at the bare contempla
tion of such an embarrass de richesses. YYhat
juicy rounds—what plump turkeys—what live
ly turtle—what tempting sucking pigs and suc
culent tomatoes ? As we pass through tho
court to the kitchen we see a dozen fellows
opening oysters, destined to be eaten perhaps
by the next generation of opera-goers.
Here is the room where the cannistcrs are
made—the armor of mail in which the provis
ions are dressed to enable them to withstand
the assaults of tlie enemy. The kitchen itself
is a spacious room, in which stands a series of
vats. There is no fire visible, hut look how
simple those half a hundred canisters of green
peas are being dressed. There they stand, up
to their necks in a brown looking mixture, very
like chocolate ; this is a solution of chloride of
calcium, which does not boil under a tempera
ture of 320 degrees. Steam pipes ramify
through this mixture, and warm it up to any
degree that is required, within its boiling point.
Bv this arrangement a great heat is obtained
without steam. The cannisters containing the
provisions were, previously to being placed in
this bath, closed permanently down, with the
except ion of a small hole, not much bigger than
the prick of a cobbler’s awl through the cover.
The cook stands watching with a soldering tool,
and a sponge. Steam issues in a small white
jet from oiife of the covers; this drives all the
enclosed air before it; and at the moment when
experience tells him that the viands are done to
a turn, he squeezes from the sponge a drop of
water in the hole.
The steam is instantly condensed, and in
stantly he drops with the other hand a plug of
molten solder, which hermetically seals it.—
Rounds of beef of 50 pounds weight, can be
preserved bv this method, which the old pro
cess did not allow of. The testing room gives
the warrant to tlie provisions. Here all the can
isters are brought after they have been sealed,
and submitted for a week to great heat. As
the light of the fire falls sideways upon the
glittering metal, it tests an unsound can
ister, as each cover is a perfect anaeroid barome
ter, marking with the greatest nicety the pres
sure upon it of the external air. If convex they
are passed as good ; if concave or bulged, they
are undoubtlv bad and consigned to the ma
nure heap. In proof of the value of this dis
cover}', wo would add that dining the other
day with a friend, not a hundred miles from
Burlington garden where wits were wont to
congregate, with appetites sharpened by our
ride, we set down to a sumptuous repast, where
the mingled odor of fisli, flesh and game invit
ed to a more substantial testing of their quali
tv. ‘This pheasant is delicious.’ said I. ‘lain
delighted tq hear it,’ rejoined our host, ‘lie
gave up the ghost just ten years ago.’ ‘Non
sense ;’ ‘this wild duck was tumbled over with a
broken wing, I see by the fracture, iu the same
year.’
‘I suppose you will say next,’ said a doubting
guest, ‘that this milk is not foaming fresh from
the cow?’ Milked,’ replied our imperturbable
host, ‘when my little godson was born,that now
struts in breeches.’ ‘Come now, what is the
most juvenile dish on the table?’ was demand
ed with a general voice. ‘These apples—taste
them.’ ‘I could swear they hung on the branch
this morning,’said a sceptic’tasting a slice criti
cally. ‘Well, I give you rny word that a flour
ishing town up Puddlington-way now stands
over the field where they were grown.’ ‘YVhy
1 shall expect a fresh olive grown by Horace,
to draw on his Sabine wine,’ chimed in a poet,
‘aye, and the day may come when he might or
der up his grandfather, like a fine old bottle of
the vintage of 1790.’ ‘God forbid,’ shuuddered
an inheritor of an entailed estate.
A Return Ticket.
A Glasgow paper says : “Jack,’ newly off a voyage,
and elevated by a glass of grog, is a queer animal.—
One of this class was a passenger the oilier day in a
railway carriage between Greenock and Fort Glasgow,
iu which was a clergyman. Jack was not scrupulous
m bis phraseology, and tlie clergyman in a solemn tone
expressed his ftur that the young man was on the road
to the devil. ‘Well, it don’t matter much,’ replied
Jack, */ hare got a return ticket .’ ’
A Noble Youth.
The following anecdote was related to a gentleman
during a night lie spent in a farm house iu Virginia,
some few years ago :
la December, 17—, towards the close of a dreary
day, a woman with an infant was discovered half bu
ried in the snow, by a little VirginiaD seven years old. j
The lad was returning from school, and hearing the
moans of someone iu distress, threw down hi* satchel j
of hooks, and repaired to the spot whence the sound j
proceeded, with a firmness becoming one of riper years, j
Raking the snow from the benumbed body of the mo
ther, and using means to awaken her to a sense of her
deplorable condition, the noble youth succeeded in get
ting her upon her feet; tLe in It nt, nestling on its mo
ther's breast, turned its eyes towards their youthful
i preserver and smiled, as it seemed, in gratitude for its
| preservation. With a countenance filled with hope.
! the gallant youth cheered the sufferer on, himself bear
ing within his tiny arms the infant child, while the
mother leaned for support on the shoulder of her con- j
ductor. ‘My home is hard l>y,’would he exclaim, as
oft hir spirit*failed ; and thus for three miles did he
cheer onward to a happy haven the mother and child,
both of whom otherwise must hove perished, had it
not been for the humane feeling aui perseverance of
this noble youth.
A warm fire and kind attention soon relieved the
sufferer, who, it appeared, was iu search of her hus
band, an emigrant from New Hampshire, a recent pur
chaser of a farm in the neighborhood of . near
this place. Diligent inquiry for several days found
him; and, in five months after, the identical house in
which we are now sitting was erected and received the
happy family. The child grew up to manhood—en
tered the army, lost a limb nt Nctv Orleans, but re
turned 1 1 end his days, a solace to the declining years
of his aged parents.
Where are they now ?’ I asked the narrator. ‘Here,’
exclaimed the son, ‘I am the rescued one; there is my
mother, and here, imprinted on my naked arm. is the
name of the noble youth, our preserver.’ I looked,
and read ‘ Winfield Scott.’
They H;ive Carried Away^apa.
As the cars in which were recently travelling
halted at a station, our attention was arrested
by a beautiful little girl, apparently less than
two years of age, who was looking from one of
the windows of a house standing But a few feet
from the track. She was wailing most piteously,
and on her sweet wan face was deeper sorrow
than we had ever before seen on the face of
an infant, such as this'. All the while she re
peated, with a pathos indescribably mournful,
‘'they have carried away my papa—when will
they bring him hack ?’’
Presently a lady whom we instantly recog
nised as a former acquaintance, came from the
house, and entering the car iu which we sat
lock a seat near ours.
“Did you observe a child at the window?”
she asked? 1 ’ when tue train had again taken
w mgs.
‘•Yes,’’ wo replied ; “and with deep inter
est.”
“ A fortnight since,’ rejoined our friend, ‘‘the
father of that little girl set out for the gold re
gi m.—Bhe was always amused at seeing the
j cars pass; and the morning fixed upon for her
; lathers departure,as she heard the train ap
proaching, climbed to her accustomed place and
clapping her hands in great glee, watched its
j coining.
At that moment the father and mother en
tered the room, the former with a forced smile
upon his features, and the latter pale and trem
ulous with suppressed emotion. One pressure
to his lornl heart, one fervent kiss and tho love
pledge on:y was replaced at the window with a
low “God bless, vou, my darling Erni—good
by.’
“ This was evidently the first intimation to
the little oneof her father’s intended departure.
At the words she turned quickly, and with a half
incredulous expression from the, window, sur
veyed his person, and seeing that he was really
i equipped for a journey returned his parting sa-
I lutation.
! “Good-by, P.-tpa, good-by.’ •
“Another moment and the adventurer had
entered the cars, which were beginning again
to move forward. The young wife and mother
turned from the spot where tlie long farewell
had been exchanged, and re-Piiiered her dwel
ling, with streaming eyes. —lnstantly the child
appeared to comprehend ihat her lather’s ab
sence was destined to he, not as usual, a tempo
rary one ; the gay smile fled from her intelli
gent features, ami stretching her tiny arms, to
wards her lather, who, from a window, was 1
casting behind a longing look, she ciied, in
lisping accents:
*•(.), please do come back, papa, and take mam
ma and Emi.’
“i he lather, who had hitherto succeeded in
maintaining external composure, was seen to
withdraw Lis gaze and pressa handkerchief to
his eyes.
“i he child has scarcely smiled since. On
ihe approach of the cars she always takps her
place at the window, from which no inducement
can draw her, and watches w iih eager eyes till
she finds her father has not come, when in a
tone of sadness truly affecting, she repeats, as
you just now heard tier, ‘They carried away
my papa; when will they bring him hack ?’
“Her appetite has failed; she has grown pale
and thin, and, wheiher sleeping or waking,
her thoughts are constantly with her ahsPnt j
parent. Her mother has decided to take her
from the scenes which constantly remind of
her afflictions, as the only means of restoring
her health and spirits.’
“Lovely affectionate creature,’ we could not
bei* exclaiming, as the narrator ceased, “may
the beloved one, his labors abundantly bles-ed,
at no distant day, be restored to the joys of his
home.’
Yankee Ingenuity. The way (a Sur
mount a Difficulty.
A correspondent <>f the Scientific American describes
an interesting method adapted by a Yankee of East i
Dorset, Vermont, of transporting timber from the I
Green Mountains. Tlie gentleman referred to had
contracted to furnish the W estern Vermont Railroad
with 32,000 ties and other t mber. As the only place
for which he couid get tieß and timber was three mile*
distant from the railroad, on the tops of the Green
Mountains, in a place inaccessible by any feasible road,
his friends aud foes joined in the predictions that it was
impossible for him to fulfil the contract. IB* ascended
through a narrow ravine to the mountain’s top. and
there gathered in one. vast pile 32,000 ties and other
timbers. Then tho questions arose with every one
by, what means is all this to be conveyed to the rail
road? Only a few weeks of summer weather is al
lowed to accomplish it in, and nothing but rocks and
guides intervene. Surely ‘necessity is the mother of
invention.’ He goes to wotk and builds a small sub
stjuitini spout or flume of long narrow piauk, stretch
ing from rock to rock down the inountaiu gorge. Here
its rests on a rock, there high on the branches of a tree,
and there again higher in the air, it threads across tho
valley supported like a telegraph wire. In four or five
weeks tLe three miles are completed, all built in the
most cheap and substantial manner. A small stream
of water i a turned into a flume, and twenty men go
merrily to work dashing in the heavy ties and timbers;
away they fly as on the wings of a dove. In four
summer days that pile of 2i,000 tons of lumber is con
veyed without cost from the Green Mountains in Peru
to the Railroad in Dorset.
The flume still stands, and the thousands of acres
hitherto worthless can now be cleared of lumber and
fuel, and will make the foitune of the proprietor.
■ tf~. !■
The Crops.
“We regret” says the Sumpterville Black
River Watchman, of the 21st-, “to hear unfa
vorable accounts of the Cotton crop from all
portions of the District. The immense quanti
ty of rain which has fallen within the last lew’
weeks will lessen the yield by at least on©
third; and if the present damp weather contin
ues, it may be much more disastrous. The
corn Crops are fine; but the difficulty in
curing fodder, owing to the rains, is a matter
of general complaint. The Provision Crop
will be ample, and our impression is, that the
price of Cotton will range still higher.”
The Editor of the same paper has been fa
voted, by a friend, with the perusal of a letter
bearingdale August lOlh, from a highly-intelii
gent gentleman, living In a fine cotton grow
ing portion of Missisippi, and his accounts of
the standing crops are inteiesting. Enough
Corn will be made by nearly all the Planters
in his section of the state to provision them for
two years. The cotton crops arc also remark
ably fine, but backward. Where sixty
pounds of cotton could be gathered, at this
time last year; by one hand in a day, it is im
possible now to find one pound.
The boil worm has made its appearance, and
considerable damage is apprehended from the
usual rapid spread of this destructive insect.
The writer’s impression is shut, notwithstan
ding the present extremely Haltering prospect
there is but little certainty as to the amount of
Cotton that w.ll be gathered finally, since tho
appearance of the worm.
The first Cotton of the present crop as we
i learn from the Republican, was received in Sa
| yannah on the I9:h inst., by the Rail Road.
I she lot consisted of five bales, and was trom
the plantation of Mr. Weight Murphree, in
Burke county, Ga. The quality is Good Mid
dling, and the staple is pronounced to be excel
lent. The first lot of last year’s crop was receiv
ed on the 16'h of August, and was from the plan
tation of A. S. Jones, Esq ; of Burke county,
Ga.
The Editor of the Paulding (Miss.) Clarion
received, on the 3d inst., a perfectly matur
j ed open boll of cotton from the plantation of
; Gen. J. P. Gray. The Southern (Miss.)
Sentinel acknowledges the receipt, from Major
1 Morgan’ McAffe, ofa cotton boll ‘‘three inches
in circumference and two inches ioug,’ grown
on the plantation of that gentleman on Honey
Island.
The Clinton (La.) Floridian says that two
bales of Cotton of ibe new crop were received
atthjit place on the 9th inst., at the depot, and
shipped to Nevv-Orh-ans. One was from the
plantation of Mr. Thomas Chapman, Sr., and
the other from H. R. Harrel. The prospects
of the crop in that region are very flattering.
The Concordia ( La.) Intelligencer of the 14th
inst., says that a num her of planters in that vicin
j ity have commenced picking cottou in earnest.
Ihe Intelligencer also learns that the army
; worm (not the boll worm, has commenced seri
j otls ravages on a number of plantations on both
j sides of the river in that vicinity. The weather
in V idalia during the previous week had been
distinguished with several showers of rain
one of them quite powerful aud attended with
lightning and thunder. It was somewhat too
rude for the safely of the cotton bolls, which
were knocked off by its violence. The nights
and mornings which succeeded the showers
have been cool with stirring breezes.
The West-Alabamiau of the 11th inst., says
that in 1 ickens county, Ala., the “grain crop
generally, such as wheat, oats and corn, it is
believed, lar exceeds any that has been raised
for many years past. Some say that it is the
heaviest over raised in this country. The col
ton, should the la.ll season prove favorable, will
| doubtless turn out well. In some portions of
the country it is said to be very liue, and taken
altogether, it is thought there will be a fair av
erage crop.’’
ihe Editor of the the Templar’s Companion
| of Wilcox county Ala., has been travelling over
Marengo and Wilcox counties, and says the
crops both ot cotton and corn look exceedingly
hue. ihe present corn crop will be equal to
the yield of any previous year, and more than
sufficient for home consumption. It is said
that a planter recently offered to sell his crop in
the held at twenty-five cents a bushel.
Ihe Cotton crop the editor thinks will boas
large as that ot any previous year, notwithstand
ing the rumors in relation to the boll worm.
llf.vky Clav. — i'he following toast, given
in 1543, at a Fourth of July dinner of Virgin
ia, by Mr. R. Hughes, forcibly illustrates some
traits in the character and history of the im
mortal statesman now no more:
“Henry Clay". —He and 1 were born close
to the slashes ot old Hanover. He walked
barefooted and so did I —he went to mill and so
did I—he was good to his mamma and so was
L I know him like a book and love him like a
brother.’’
A Irish couple, calling in upon a daguerrean
artist the other day, bringing their son, a boy,
o have his portrait taken, were delighted with
the successful execution ofthe work. “That’s
him self, ixacly, mister,” cried the ecstatic father
as he turned the pictur successively in every
conceivable light to gaze at it, “ that’s me son ;
and now will you be afler taking his brother
that’s at home, that’s next older than him, that
looks jiste like him, only he’s one size larger,
and his eyes is a little whiter, jist a trifle, and
his nose is turned a little one side.’’
None have less praise than those who work
for it most.
A quiet mind like other bles sings, is more
easily lost than gained.
1 he heart Has its reasons, which the reason
ot others does not apprehend.
Drunkeness turns a mau out of himself and
leaves a beast in his room.
A punctual man is rarely a poor man, and
never a man of doubtful credit.
Always do right without regard to consequen
ces.
Ho who has most heart has tno&t sorrow.
NO. 22.