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xro l-,
I fiSSilHl EISISESS CARDS
lIOWM’S^HOIEI,
Opposite the Passenger Depot,
E. E. BROWN, Proprietor, j
rs Mal ready on the arriral of every Train.
*sprlt—
am. WILLIAM t. BLAI*
LYON & BLACK,
Attorney* and Counsellors at Law,
Norton, Baker County , Oa.
*TILL give prompt attention to all business entrust-
W ed to their care, in the following counties:
JJ't Cly, Randolph, Early, Decatur, Baker, Cal
lao Dougherty and Lee.
|
H|l g. UHiR- |O. a. LOCBKASE. A. M. SPEER.
LAMAR. LOCHRAYE k SPEER,
ATTORNEYS AT L AW,
MACON, G A.
ernCE ON MULBERRY STREET.
Hivwo associated themselves in the practice of Law,
will diligently attend to all busiuess entrusted to
1 maylO-tf *** Telegraph and Mess. copy, j
l. )T. WHITTLE,
ATTORNEY at law,
MACON, GA.
His removed his Office next to Concert Hall and over
the Store of Mix A Kirtuhi.
Jxal-iy
HUNTER & ELLIS,
attorneys at law,
MACON, GA.
Oi,iu ox CttmßT Si. orposrrK ths Georgia Telegraph 1
MTTW*!
ifilLpraotice in Bibb, Monroe, Crawford,Twiggs, Hous- !
ton, Macon, Oooly and Worth counties.
ngPTo be found in their Office at all hours. zaA
jng—ly. j
LANIER a ANDERSON,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
]\D BOI.VTY LAM) AMD PEYSIOY AGEYTS ! i
MACON, GA.
Besides the regular business of their Profession they
Le for years past been kH|jaj[ed in prosecuting claims
far Bounty Land and Pension, in favor of soldiers, their
widows and minor children.
They have also obtained the correct forms and the j
rules for obtaining Bounties under the Act of Congress i
just passed.
fwt>R4—tf
tiAW CAIID.
T. T. STCBBS, B. BILL, P. TRACT.
STrBBS, HILL k TRACY,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
MACON, GA.
_ Wnx practice in the Superior Courts of Bibb, Craw
ford, Twi||s, Marion, Monroe, Houston, Jones,
LjascogtetTaliicft, Macq‘n,'Taylor',"t T pson, Sumter, Lee,
and Dougherty j and also in the Circuit Courts of the
United States, at Marietta and Savannah.
marM— ts
WiSHINOTOB POB, B. C. OBIBR.
POE & GRIER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Atej thb hterchant’s Bank,
MACON, OA.
>U|l—tf
DR. C. J. ROOSEVELT,
HOM CEO PATH 1C PHYSICIAN,
OFEICE AND RESIDENCE
tsrnsr of W ala at nd Third Stmts, Mason, Ga.
oct6—ly
LAN lßli ** HOUSE,
MACON. lau'llL GEO.
THE undersigned haying Leased the above establish
yai, u<s to assure the travelling public, that no exer
nun will bt spared to sustain the established reputation
oftheHouse. LOGAN A MEARA,
jaoS—tf I‘roprietors.
REDDING jj HOUSE.
MACON, GEORGIA,
H. P REDDING, Proprietor.
SUjflS—tf
Dr* ATPyeT
MACON, GA.
Owe* removed to Rooms on 8d Street, between Dr.
Strohecker’s Drug Store and Judge Tracy's Law Office.
taayjy—tf
Dr, E. Fitzgerald
Btvixa permanently located In MACON, will attend
punctually all calls left at hU Office,
SEXT DOOR TO FREEMAN & ROBERTS.’
Os at Fitzgerald k Nottingham's Drug Store.
Rooms over ALLEN k DUNLAP’S Store.
riS—tf
Dr. R. H. Nisbet.
CITY PHYSICIAN,
Office on Cherry Street, above Freeman A Roberts’.
marS—tf
TO DABUERREOTYPISTS.
R. L. WOOD,
H P erfect d his BFACTircL BTTI.B of taking
oj", * 1 is prepared to give instructions
AMRmvrv rea,ou *ble terms.
tiiuLr, oTyp!S ’ DAGUERREOTYPES and PUOTO-
Pj,,,“ s >n the finest style.
Triangle and look at his pictures. Rooms in
toayß-tf
Clinkscales, M. D.,
to P<rmanently located in Macon, begs leave
iturire, B * rTice *' u the practice of .11 edll'ilsr,
low n i„U and to the citiaens of the
•df ofii,K ,ttr ll ottn,,i, 'll coun * r y. Having availed him
kuatrT , Advantages of one of the best school* in the
P'actieo h r* U a Mhoe furnished by an extensive
Wbu,!„ bo P s i to be able to merit your confidence
Whuv? ***•
cl ne cl * iula to b a thorough Reformer in Medt
ufati the ® UC H jare ssafe, he will avail himself
*ri, io u k '* vanta Kus of the concentration of Heir pow
t! *' lm iniratlon re E° tenc F °f action and convenience
U|, fA!!- vo “ ‘hM are afflicted with Cahckbs, Fistc-
Wih. . *’ °fany kind, or Venereal diseases, If you
Wo*!“ o . c^ re ’ * iv him a call. AfcJ
t&uo in? * a < Botanic Drug Store, No. 14, Cotton Av-
Oppod. ,v J e * l<lence on the corner of Public Square,
found unl „ ® a * Works, where he can at ail times be
febw!!? y profe i ,,ion *Hy erased.
fcggja JOHN CLEGHORN, *
DEALER IN
||HH SADDLES, U ARY ESS, LEATHER,
RUBBER BELTING,
U Saddlery Hardware,
41 the . Etc. Etc.
ivenn‘w and of the ite Wm. T. MIX k CO. Cotton
“ uc i Macon, Ga
O.JUUCE,
AN D REPAIRER
p IANO FORTES,
k (1 . naa hently located tn Macon. may
Vlrln ’* and at E - J- Johnston k Cos.
p r gaudie &. Jaconet Muilini.
•( PIECES just received and for sale low by
maylo WINBHIP, RJ&j k COLEMAN.
MEW YORK CAIN
Urer’i Bb * obtained at ths Maaafac-
fhdnu
For the Georgia Citixen.
Sabbath-Day Reflections,
ON READING THE FOLLOWING LINES.
“Thou who hast showed many and sore troubles shall
quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from
the depths of the earth.”
Dare I to Thee, 0 God, this hope
Express, who have so often felt
The weakness of my strength, to cope
With blows that sin on me hath dealt!
fi
Can I, with humble faith, my voice
1 ift up on high, and from the throne
Os justice, think such heavenly choice
On me will fall—that me thou’lt own ?
5.
Oh ! how the world’s sweet tender ties
Have fill’d my heart and call’d me off
From Heaven where rapture never dies
And ne’er is heard the world’s harsh scoff!
4.
But now these ties are rudely riven,
And I have little here to love,
I’d gladly yield my heart to Heaven—
Fix my sad gaxe on hopes above.
It.
Vet hard the task—there is a chain
That binds me down with gloomy spell—
That folds my heart Rs coils within,
Making it oft with anguish swell.
6.
Oh! not the bright glad scenes of earth—
Its fiow’ry fields nor forests green,
Nor lighted hall, nor sounds of mirth,
(Their beauty gone, their charm unseen.)
i.
Can win from me a wish to stay;
My eyes grow dim with visions past,
Then mid such scenes my feet now stray,
The smile grows cold, my tears Bow fast.
8.
The starlight falls now sad and dim,
Upon my weary drooping head ;
Their misty light is like the film
That mem’ry gathers round the dead !
9.
Not these! not these! have power to stay
The flight my soul would take for Heaven ;
Nor dim the bright celestial ray,
That to its upward gaze is given,
Id,
’Tis something dark —not bright nor pure,
That keeps me here, bowed mid the wreck,
Os other days—false lights that lure
Me off—each day that draw me hack.
11.
To sin and sense my stricken saul
Seems yet with mystic power enchained,
My heart grows faint, when to the goal
My spirit strives its way to wend.
<m t M. *. *. *• |
tge Georgia C-itijen.
The Hone and the 1 iolet.
BT LACKS. KGCLE6TOX.
I-
Beneath a small Rose-bush a Violet grew,
Its mantle was verdant, its eyes azure blue,
Contented it grew In the soft shadows there,
An ambient of loicly life, wor(Ay fair.
•
The tall queenly Rose elevated her head,
And hung out her pennons of crimson and red,
Bhe blushed in the sunbeams that smiled on her face,
And poured on the air ail the sweets of her vase. ,
111.
One beautiful morn, as she revel’d In pride,
The Violet meek, in the shadows she spied,
And waving her banners, gCQnufvlly said,
Unto the “wee” yiolet, low i her bed :
*Y
“Behold ! little slave! in my umbrage sublime,
I revel in sunbeams the most of the time,
The enprvMi at flora, I live on tn sheen,
While thou ip the shadows scarcely srt *&i
V. -
“The winds do me homage, and sing in my praise,
The Bees buuing round murmur beautiful lays,
The soft showers of summer bespangle my crown,
But hardly a dewdrop on thee falleth down !
VI.
The Violet modestly lifted her eye,
And thus to the queen of the Flowers replied,
“The warm Up of earth, is the blest place for me,
I love to repose in the shade of a tree, —
And sometimes a sunbeam will fall on my head,
And dewdrops occasional, on me are shed 1”
VH
Forbear, puny creature ! so humble RBd frail,
How dare you our Empress so boldly assail!
Look here ! I have daggers concealed in my vest,
To pierce and sorely wound thy little breast.
VIII.
“1 fear not thy threats,” quoth the Violet warm,
“The angel of Flowers will shield me from harm,
The little dew fairy that sprinkle* the gems,
Will love and protect me, aud cherish my stems.”
IX.
“But, I wound thee with thorns,” said the Rose in her
wrath,
And bowed low to pierce the meek flower to earth.
When Flora appeared In a tempest with hall!
And broke down the rose by the force of the gale.
X.
The sweet, humble Violet bow’d down its meek head,
A moment, then rose from its soft mossy bed,
The sun then emerging in dewdrops she shone,
And looked for the Rose-bush, but lo ! it was gone !
XI.
A low, soothing melody stole on her ear,
The song of the fairy dispell’d all her fear,
“Be humble, contented aud charming, sweet flower,
And Flora will shield thee to bloom in her bower.
XII.
Thus pride shall be humbled aud perish at last,
Her grand stately form unto earth shall be cast,
Bat meek and contented, shall flourish the fair.
That beauty’s fine gems in humility wear.
German, X. Y. June 5,1856.
fggT’ “Speak Low” is sung with charming
naivete by our friend and frequent contributor,
C. Chauncey Burr. Esq.— Home Journal.
Speak low, love—your words are too loud ;
Breathe low—there’s an ear at the door !
Vou know that my father is proud—
Speak low!
To me you are richer than gold ;
I care not for houses and land—
Don’t think me, love, talking too bold—
But I’m rich with your heart and yonr hand
Speak low!
Now softly, ere father’s awake !
Go softly—lU cling to your side!
The squire, who lives down by the lake,
In a minute can make me your bride.
Speak low !
Grammar In Rhyme.
If there be any virtue in “singing Geogra
phy,” it might be as well to have a little
“Grammar in Rhyme;” and the following,
which we take from an excliange, is decided
ly the thing—and if any little grammarian
would commit it to memory, it would serve
to fix the distinction of the different pai t
of speech” permanently in the mind:
1. Three little words you often see
Are Articles—a, an and the.
2. A Noun’s the name of any thing,
As tchool or garden, hoop or suing.
8. Adjectives tell the kind of nonn,
As great, small, pretty, while or Iroun.
4. Instead of nouns the Pronoun* stand—
Btr ttad, Ms (mb, pow m, mv ba4.
0. Verb* tell something being dene—
To count, gallop, jump or run.
6. How things are done the Adverbs tell—
As slowly, quickly, ill or will.
7. Conjunctions join the words together,
As man and woman, wind or weather.
8. The Propositions stands before
A noun—as in or through a door.
9. The Interjection shows surprise,
As ah ! how foolish !—oh ! how wise!
The whole are called Nine Parts of Speech,
AYhich Reading, Wrßlag, Speaking teach.
‘ tSff off t!tf >
THE CRIMINAL WITNESS.
In the spring of’4B, I was called to Jack
son to attend court, having been engaged to
defend a young man accused of robbing the
mail. I had a long conference with my cli
ent. and he acknowledged In me that on the
night when the mail was robbed, lie had
been with a party of dissipate! companions
over to Topham, and that on returning, they
met the mail carrier on horseback coming
from Jackson, Some of his companions
were very drunk, and they proposed to stop
the carrier, and over haul his bag. The roads
were very muddy at the time, and the coach
could not run. My client assured me that
he not only had no hand in robbing the mail.
: but that lie tried to dissuade his companions.
But they would not listen to him, One of
them slipped up behind the carrier and
i knocked him from the horse. They then
; bound and blindfolded him, and having tied 1
him to a tree they took the mail bag, and 1
made off to a neighboring field, where they
overhauled it, finding some live hundred dol
lars in various letters. lie went with them,
but iu no way did he have any hand in the
crime, Those who did it fled, and as the car
rier had recogniaed him in the party, he had j
been arrested. i
The mail bag had been found, as well as
the letters. These letters from which money j
had been taken were kept by order of the j
officer, and duplicates sent to the various
persons, to whom they were directed. These
letters had boon given tome for examination, \
and I returned them to the prosecuting
attorney,
I got through with my private prelimina
ries about noon, and as the case would not
come ufi before the next day, I went into
court to see what was going oq, The first
case which same up, was one of theft, and |
i the prisoner was a young girl not more than |
seventeen years of age, Elizabeth Madworth.
i She was very pretty, and bore that mild, in
nocent look, which we seldom find in a cul- ■
prit. She was pale and frightened, and the
moment my eyes rested upon her, I pitied j
her. She lpad been weeping profusely, for
her bobbin was wet, but as she found so many
eyes upon her, she beoamo too much fright
ened to woep more.
The complaint against her set forth that j
she had stolen one hundred doll'- f; v!T) Mrs. i
ana as the case went on I found !
that Mrs. Naseby was her mistress, a wealthy !
widow living in town. The poor girl de
clared her innocence in the most wild terms,
and called on God to witness that she had !
rather die than steal. But circumstances !
were hard ccrainst her. An hundred in bank ;
notes had been stolen from her mistress’s ,
room, and she was the only one who had ac- j
cess there.
At this juncture, while the mistress was
upon the witness-stand, a young man came
and caught me by the arm. He was a fine |
looking fellow, and big tears stood in his
i e y e? -
“They tell me you are a good lawyer ?”
he whispered.
“I am a lawyer,” I answered.
“Then —0!—save her! You can certain
ly do it, for she is innocent.”
“Is she your sister?'’
The youth hesitated and colored.
“No sir.” he said, “but —but —”
“Has she no counsel ?” 1 asked.
“None that’s good for anything —nobody (
that’ll do anything for her. O save her, and ;
I’ll pay you all I’ve got. I can’t pay you
much, hut I can raise something. “
I reflected for a moment. I cast my eyes 1
toward the prisoner, and she was at that 1
time looking at me. She caught my eye, j
and the volume of humble, prayerful en- j
ueaty, I read in those large, tearful orbs, re
solved me in a moment. In my soul I knew
that the girl was innocent; or at least I fimi
ly believed so—and perhaps 1 could help her.
I arose and went to the girl, and asked her
if she wished me to defend her. She said
| yes. Then I informed the court that I was
ready to enter into the case, and was admit
| ted at once. The loud murmur of satisfac
| tion which ran through the room, quickly
told me where the sympathies of the people
i w ere.
I asked for a moment’s cessation, that I
might speak to my client. 1 went and sat
i down by her side, and asked her to state to
! m e candidly the whole case. She told me
she had lived with Mrs. Naseby nearly two
years, and that during all that time she had
never had any trouble before. About two
weeks ago, she said, her mistress lost an
j hundred dollars.
“She missed it from the drawer,” the girl
told me, “and she asked me about it, but I
knew nothing of it. The next thing I knew,
Nancy Luther told Mrs. Naseby that she saw
me take the money frem the drawer that
she watched me through the key-hole. 1 hey
then went to my trunk and they found
twenty-five dollars of the missing money
there. But, O, sir, I never took it—some
body else put that money there!
I then asked her if she suspected any one.
“I don’t know,” she said, “who could have
done it but Nancy. She never liked me, be
caum thought Iwm tr*At*d better than
3HACO3V. GA. JULY 5, 1856.
she was. She is the cook, and I was the
chamber-maid.”
She pointed Nancy Luther out to me. She
was a stout, bold faced girl, about two and
twenty, with a low forehead, small grey
eyes, a pug nose and thick lips. I caught
j her glance at once as it rested upon the fair
| young prisoner, and the moment I detected
I the look of hatred which I read there, I was
i convinced that she was the rogue,
f “Oh. sir, can you help me?” mv client
1 asked in a fearful whisper.
“Nancy Luther, did you say that girl’s
name was ?”
j “Yes sir.”
“Is there any other girl of that name about
I here ?’’
“No sir.”
“Then rest easy, I’ll try hard to save you.”
I left the court room, and went to the
prosecuting attorney, and asked him for the
letters I had handed to him—the ones that
had been stolen from the mail bag. He gave
them to me, and having selected one, I re
turned the rest, and told him 1 would see
that he had the one I kept before night. I
then returned to the court room and the case
went on.
Mrs. Naseby resumed her testimony. She
said she entrusted her room to the prisoner’s
care, and that no one else had access there
but herself. Then she described the miss
ing money, and closed by telling how she
had found twenty-five dollars of in the pris
oner’s trunk. She could swear it was the
identical money she had lost, it being iwo
tens and one five dollar bill.
“Mrs. Naseby,” &id I, “when you first
missed your money, had you any reason to
believe that the prisoner had taken it?”
“No sir,” she answered.
“Had you ever befQi’c detected her in dis
honesty f ’
i; No sir.”
“Should you have thought of searching her
trunk had not Nancy Luther advised you and
informed you?”
: “No sir.”
, Mrs. Maseby then left the stand, and Nan
| cy Luther took her place. She came up with
a bold look, and upon me she cast a defiant
glance, as much as to say “trap me if you
can!” She gave evidence as follows :
“She said that on the night when the mo
ney was stolen, she saw the prisoner going
up stairs, and from the manner in which she
went up, she suspected that all was not right-
So she followed her up.”
“Elizabeth went into Mrs. Naseby’s room
and shut the door after her. I stooped down
aud looked through the key-hole, and saw her
at her mistress's draw. I saw her lake out
the money ami put in her pocket. Then she
stooped down to pick up the lamp, and I saw
she was coming out, I hurried away.” Then
she told how she had informed her mistress
of this, and proposed to search the girl’s
trunk,
I called Min. Naseby back to the stand.
“You say that no one, save yourself and
j the prisoner, had access to your room,” I
1 said. “Now could Nancy Luther have en
; tered that room if she wished ?”
“Certainly, sic. I meant no one else had
any right there.”
I saw that Mrs. N., though naturally a hard
: woman, was some what moved by poor
Elizabeth’s misery.
“Could your cook have known, by any
means in yonr knowledge, where your mo
ney was?”
I “Yes, sir; for she has often come up to
iny room when I was there, and I have giv
en her money with which to buy provisions
of market-men, who happened along with
their wagons.',
“One more question: Have you known of
the prisoner’s having had any money since
this was stolen ?’’
! “No sir.”
I now called Nancy Luther back, and she
1 began to tremble a little, though her look was
as bold and defiant as ever.
“Miss Luther,” I said, “why did you not
’ inform your mistress at once of what you had
: seen, without waiting for her to ask you
I about the lost money ?”
“Because I could not make up my mind at
I once to expose the poor girl,” she answered
I promptly.
“You say you looked through the key-hole
and saw her take the money ?”
“Yes sir.”
“Where did she put the lamp while she
did so ?”
“On the bureau.”
“In your testimony, you said slie stooped
down when she picked it up. What did you
mean by that?”
The girl hesitated, and finally said she
didn't mean anything, only that she picked
up the lamp.
“Very well,” said I. “How long have
you been with Mrs. Naseby ?”
“Not quite a year, sir.”
“How much does she pay you a week ?
“A dollar and three quarters.”
“Have you taken up any of your pay since
you have been there ?”
“Yes sir.”
“How much ?”
“I don't know, sir.”
“Why don’t you know ?”
“How should I ? I’ve taken it at different
times, just as I wanted it. and have kept no
account.”
“Now if you had any wish to harm the
prisoner, couldn’t you have raised twenty
five dollars to put in her trunk ?”
“No,” she replied with virtuous indigna
tion.
“Then you have not laid up any money
since you have been there ?”
“No air—only what Mrs. Naseby may owe
mt.”
“Then you didn't have twenty-five dollars
j when you came there ?”
“No, sir; and what’s more, the money
found in the girl’s trunk was the money that
Mrs. Naseby lost. You might have known
that, if you'd only remember what you
hear.”
This was said very sarcastically, and was
intended as a crusher upon the idea that she
could have put the money into the prisoner’s
trunk. However, I was not overcome en
tirely.
ill you tell me if you belong to this
State?” I asked next.
“I do, sir.”
“In what town ?”
She hesitated, and for an instant the hold
look forsook her. But she finally answered,
“I belong in Montgomery County.”
I next turned to Mrs. Naseby :
“Do you ever take a receipt from your
girls when you pay them ?” I asked.
“Always,” she answered.
“Could you send and get one of them for
me ?”
“She told the truth, sir, about my pay
ments,” Mrs. Naseby said.
“O, I don t doubt it,” I replied ; “but oc
cular proof is the proof lor the court. So if
you can, I wish you would procure me the
receipts.”
She said she would willingly go, if the
court said so. The court did say so, and she
went. Her dwelling was not far oft’ and she
soon returned, and handed me four receipts,
which I took and examined. They were all
signed in a strange, straggling hard by the
witness.
’'Now, Nancy Luther,” said I, turning to
the witness, and speaking in a quick, start
ling tone, at the same time looking her stern
ly in the eye’ “please tell the court, and the
jury, and tell me tco, where you got the seven
ty-five dollars you sent to your sister in So
mers ?”
The witness started as though a volcano
had burst at her feet.
She turned pale as death, and every limb
shook violently. I waited until the people
could see her emotion, and then Repeated the
question.
“I—never—sent—any!” she faintly gasp
ed.
“You did!” I thundered, for I was exci
ted.
“I—l—-didn’t,” she faintly uttered, grasp
ing the rail for support.
“May it please: your honor and gentlemen
of the jury,” I said, as soon as I had looked
the witness out of countenance, “I came
here to defend a youth who hr and been arrest
ed for helping to rob the mad, and in my
preliminary examinations, I had access to
the letters which had been tom open and ri
fled of money. When I entered upon this
case, and heard the name of this witness
pronounced, I went out and got this letter
which I now hold, for I remember to have
seen one bearing the signature of Nancy
Luther. The letter was taken out of the
mail bag, and contained seventy-five dollars,
and by looking at the post mark, you will
observe it was mailed on the very next day
after the money was taken from Mrs. Nase
by’s drawer. I will read it to you, if you
please.”
The court nodded assent, and I read the
following, which was without date save that
made by the postmaster’s stamp on the out
side. I give it here verbatim:
‘•Dear Dorcas: — I send yu here seute-five
dolors, which I want yu to kepe it for me til
i cum hum, I cant kepe it here coz ime afraid
it will git stole, dont spoke ivun word tu a
livin sole bout this coz i dont want nobodi tu
know ive got enny money, yu wont will
yu. iam fust rate beer, only that glide for
nothin snipe of liz madwurte is lieer yit —
but i hope to git rid of her now. yu kno i
rote yu bout her. giv my luv to awl en
quiren friends, this from your sister til deth.
Nancy Luther.
“Now, your honor,” I said, as I handed
him the letter, and also the receipts, “you
will see that the letter is directed to Dorcas
Luther, Somers, Montgomery county. And j
you will also observe that one hand wrote j
that letter and signed those receipts. It is j
plain how the one hundred dollars were dis
posed of. Seventy-five dollars were in that
letter and sent away for safe keeping, while
the remaining twenty-five were placed in the
prisoners’s trunk for the purpose of covering j
tht: real criminal. Os the tone of the other
parts of the letter, I leave you to judge.—
And now gentlemen of the jury, I leave my ‘
case in your hands, only I will thank God.
and I know yon will also, that an innocent
person has been thus strangely saved from
ruin and disgrace. ’
The ease was given to the jury immediate
ly following their examination of the letter. ;
They had heard from the witness’s own
mouth that she bad no money of her own,
and without leaving their seats, they returned
a verdict of—“ Not Guilty.
The youth who first, asked me to defend
the prisoner, caught me by the hand but he
could not speak plainly, lie simply looked
at me through his tears for a moment, and
then rushed to the fair prisoner. He seemed
to forget where he was, for lie flung his arms
around her, and she laid her head upon his
bosom and wept aloud.
I will not attempt to describe the scene
that followed; but if Nancy Luther had not
been arrested for the theft, she would have
been obliged to seek the protection of the of
ficers; for the excited .people would have
surely maimed her, if they had done no mom
Next morning I received a note, handsomely
written, in which I was told that within was
but a slight token of gratitude due me for
my efi’orts in behalf of a poor, defenceless,
but much loved maiden. It was signed
“B*vral Citkana,” and contain** on* bun*
dred dollars’. Shortly afterwards the youth
came to pay all the money he could raise. I
simply showed him the note I had received,
and asked him to keep his hard earnings for
his wife when he got one. He owned that
he intended to make Lizzy Madworth his
wife very soon.
Next day, I succeeded in clearing my oth
er client from conviction of robbing the mail;
and made a considerable handle of the for
! tunate discovery of the letter which had
saved an innocent girl on the day before, in
my appeal to the jury; and if I made them
feel that the finger of Omnipotence was in
the work, it was because I sincerely believed
the young man was innocent of all crime ;
! and I am sure they thought so too.
For the Georgia Citizen.
Commerce.
M e are dependent, and not independent
beings as we are often wont to call ourselves.
Man can not in this sublunary sphere live
happily or meet those callings for which the
l God of nature designed him without com
munication and association with his fellow
man. Our wants, both physical and moral,
are only to be satisfied by this communica
tion. Fallen man must roam far and wide to
gather that “bread which is only earned by
i the sweat of his brow.” Natural and neces
sary then is the pursuit of commerce. Va
rieties of climate, of products, the absolute
dependence of men of one country upon the i
: manufactures or staples of another, the con- :
i neetion of parts of the same region by rivers,
and of foreign nations by seas, prove that na- I
ture herself has determined the value, and
.dictated the want of commercial relations.
It is certain that in man’s breast she lias im
planted the strongest powers and induce
ments to this species of enterprise. The dis
position to adventure seems to be a part of
our nature and to it we owe the greatest of
the moral and political advancements of all
ages. To it the world is indebted for the in
crease of the number of the sciences, which
have accumulated until every vocation has
felt their influence and been benefited by their j
application. To it the world is indebted for i
the spread of learning from the cloisters of
monks, the once confined centres of intelli
gence, to every part of Europe. And the
same spirit transmitted it in turn from Eu
rope to the wilds and wilderness of new born
America. In proportion as encouragement
has been given to commercial enterprise, the
great orb of civilization has rolled on and ex
panded until all nature has been lighted up
with its effulgence and wanned with its
beams. Commerce is to be favorably re
garded as a distributor of ideas, laws, cus
toms and religion. The natural appetite for
information would never lead men to draw
to themselves foreign ideas. Nations that
are shut up to themselves pursue their own
industry, foster their own institutions, and
revolve in the circle of their own ideas or
philosophies. Whatever useful discoveries
are made in any science; whatever new ma
chines are invented, they are quickly, by
means of an extended commercial intercourse,
circulated all over the world. It is chiefly
by means of commerce that barbarous na
tions have become civilized. The most com
mercial nations have always been civilized
nations. In the pursuit of commercial ob
jects they have sought out new nations with
whom to trade. They have discovered na
tions in a state of comparative barbarism,
and by their commercial intercourse civiliza
tion has been extended. Commerce lias
laid the foundation of the most powerful 1
empires. They have flourished as then
commerce has flourished, and when their
commerce has declined they have fallen into
obscurity. The pages of early history prove
that commerce thrives best under a republic,
and that it was then, and it ever lias been,
the source of wealth and power to the gov
ernment from which it derives protection
and encouragement. This theory is well |
supported by the history of ancient Carthage.
By the reciprocal benefits of Iree govern
ment and commercial enterprise, this mighty
republic was enabled to carry on a war of ,
40 years duration against the all-conquering
Romans, in which she carried terror and di- ,
may even to the gates of Rome, and was i
only conquered when deprived by perfidy of j
the benefits of her commerce. To com
merce are the United States indebted for the
exalted rank which they now hold among
the nations of the earth. Extirpate com
merce and our country (great as she is) i
would fall from the high position which she
now occupies to the lowest state of degra
tion. C. W. Raines.
[For the Citixen.]
Dreams.
BY J. G I E RLO W.
The southern breezes having completely !
thawed out my northern phlegm, it is not
strange, that I should now and then suffer
my soul to soar above this groveling earth,
and revel in more genial climes— even in the
land of dreams. Here I see far distant re
gions, aud unknown to me. I cross the sea
with wonderful ease; see many strange
monsters; live with ail sorts of men, now in
war, now in wild tumult, and now in peace
ful cottages. Then I fall into captivity and
degrading want My life becomes an un
ending tissue of the brightest colors. Then
comes death, a return again to life; I love,
and am separated from the object of my af
fections. I walk alone in the dark forest,
where the light breaks only at intervals
through the green net-work of the trees. 1
come to a passage through some rocks, which
leads to the top of a neighboring hill, and to
ascend which I am obliged to scramble over
the mossy stones, which some stream in for
mer times has tom down. The higher I
climb, the more i9 the forest lit up, until at
last I oom* to * im*U tneadow situated on
the declivity of the mountain. Behind the
meadow rises a lofty cliff, at whose foot an
opening is visible, which seems to be the be
ginning of a path hewn in the rock. The
path guides me gently along, and in a wide
expanse, from which at a distance a clear
light shines towards me. On entering this
expanse, I behold a mighty beam of light,
which, like the stream from a fountain, rises
to the overhanging clouds, and spreads out
into innumerable sparks, which gather them
selves below into a great basin. The beam
shines like burnished gold; not the least
noise is audible; a holy silence reigns around
the splendid spectacle. I approach the basin,
which trembles and undulates with ever
varying eolors. On dipping my hand in the
golden liquid, and bedewing my lips, I feel
as if a spiritual’ breath could have pierced
through me, while a cloud tinged with the ‘
glow of evening appears to surround me.
Feelings as from heaven flow into my soul;
thoughts innumerable and full of rapture
strive to mingle together within me; new
imaginations, such as never before have
struck my fancy, arise before me, which, ‘
flowing into each other, become visible be
ings about me. Each wave of the lovely
element presses to me like a soft bosom. A
new vision appears. I dream that lam sit
ting on the soft turf by the margin of a foun
tain, whose waters flow into the air, and
seem to vanish in it. Dark blue rocks with
various colored veins rise in the distance-
The daylight around me is milder and clearer
than usual; the sky is of a sombre blue,
free from clouds. But what most attracts
my notice, is a tall, light-blue flower, which
stands nearest the fountain, and touches it
with its broad, glossy leaves; around it grows
numberless flowers of varied hue, filling the
air with the richest perfume. But I see the
flower alone, and gaze long upon it with in
expressible tenderness. lat length am about
to approach it, when it begins to move, and •
change its form. The leaves increase their j
beauty, adorning the growing stem. The
flower bends towards me, and reveals among !
its leaves an outspread collar, within which ;
hovers a tender face. The dream is past! J
Let each of my readers apply this Allegory !
(for dreams are allegories) to tlte peculiar
tenor of his own life, and there trace a kin
dred chord. Every dream, even the most
confused, is a peculiar vision, which, though
we do not call it sent from heaven, yet makes
an important rent in the mysterious curtain,
which, with a thousand folds, hides our in
ward natures from our view. Dreams break
up the monotony and even tenor of life, to
serve as a recreation to the chained fancy.
They mingle together all the scenes and fan
cies of life, and change the continual earnest
ness age, into merry sports of childhood.
Were it not for dreams, we should certainly
grow older; and though they be not given
us immediately from above; yes they should
be regarded as heavenly gifts, as friendly
guides, in our pilgrimage to the holy tomb.
A confiding disposition is always aumira j
ble, and the utter absence of everything like !
doubt or suspicion, as evidenced in the case
of the Scotchman mentioned below —which
was made publie in a Scottish journal—is
truly refreshing:
A week or two since a decently dressed,
elderly man called at the shop of our towns
man, Mr. Muirhead, jeweler and watchma
ker, Buchanan street, and quietly asked:
“Is my watch ready?”
As Mr. Muirhead had at the moment no
remembrance of having done any business
with the man, he asked in turn:
“When did you leave your watch?”
“Oh,” said the other, “I didn't leave it in !
this shop, for ye were o’er by in Nelson street
when ye got it.”
“That must have been a long time
then,” said Mr. Mairhead, “for we left Nel
son street in 1838. That is seventeen years
since.”
“But T left it with ye, fora’ that,” said the
other.
“What was the name and number of the
watch ?’’
These were described to a nicety, and on
opening the repository it was found safe and
sound. Exactly twenty-two years had pass- ,
ed away since Duncan had handed it in for
repair, yet he called at the end of that period
as coolly as if he had only left it the prece
ding week.
“W hy have you not called for the watch
before?” asked Mr. Muirhead.
“Ye see, I am a sawyer by trade, and I
ga'ed o’er to American that season to see j
how thing were looking, I kent the watch
would be safe till I came back, hut I staid a
wee while langer than I tend.”
A Model Dun. —The Georgetown Gaz -tte
gets off the following suggestions to its sub
scribers, in its issue on Thursday :
“All persons indebted to this office jye re
quested to walk, ride up, roll up, send up, or
any way so they get up and settle immedi
ately if not sooner. We are still prepared to
furnish our paper to all who want it. We
would prefer bank notes, gold dollar's and
silver quarters in exchange, but in the des
perate language of a poverty stricken and j
head over heels in debt contemporary, will
take grindstones, wooden nutmegs, patent
wheel-barrows, shanghai chickens, hoop
dresses, boot jacks, broom corn, “lasses” can
dy, “some pumpkins,” baby jumpers, (lor a
friend,) fishing tackle, hoop-poles, patent
machines, dyestuffs, cork screws, old bacon*
young “niggers,” sucking pigs, rags, boxes and
barrels, old clothes, sausage meat, (extracts
of bark preferred,) post beer, (used iu printing.)
grubbing hoes, pick axes, Colt’s pistols, war
ranted not to kick, tooth brushes, teupenny
nails, pins, needles, ginger cakes, circus tick
ets, or any other article found in a country
retail store. Walk up, but don't all couie at
ona*,
NO. 13.
Matrimony.
To be serious; matrimony is a serious mat
ter, and every young lady should ask lierself
a few serious questions before seriously en
gaging m this important relation. Questions
of a personal character should first occupy
1 the attention, then questions respecting the
second pei-son might Freely be discussed.
The general way, however, is for each one
to examine the other, and to forget to exam
ine themselves. Nothing is more common
than for a young lady to make numerous iu
j quirics, respecting the cliaracter of her anti
| cipated, or intended husband (all of which we
do not object to,) without asking one solita
ry question respecting herself. A profitable
question might be asked in reference to the
perfection or imperfection of the physical
system: for on the perfection of the physique
| depends, to a great extent, the moral and in
tellectual perfection.
A maiden lady of rank and wealth, who
{ had a host of superior suitors (all of which
were unsuccessful.) on being asked the ques
tion why she so tenaciously held to the sin-
I gle state, remarked, that she was too well
acquainted with her physical imperfections,
and her duty toward God and her country,
to make another being miserable, or to entail
constitutional defects on the race of human
beings. We opine that the world would be
saved from much physical and mental suffer
! ing, if ladies in similar conditions would act
with similar judgment. We are sorry to say
there is a great deal too much false modesty
on subjects of this kind among our ladies.
1 The piano forte is studied much more tha a
physiology or the laws of life and health
which are of paramount importance. It
would be scarcely possible to get an audi
ence of ladies glisten to a lecture on phys
iology or phrenology, however chaste or cred
itable, while exhibitions of a frivolous and
degrading nature, such as Mhgic and Negro
tomfoolery, will be patronised to their fell
] extent. Thus the grent laws T>f mind and
1 matter, which are inseparably connected
] with our personal happiness, and a kuow
; ledge of which seem indispensable to per
liorm the duties of life are carelessly disre
garded, and disease and insanity are the ro
i suit.
This inquiry respecting the physical quali
fications lor matrimony on the part of ladies,
is not a matter to be trifled with, and what
ever might be said of other qualification'?,
we hold this as one vitally important, Moi -
als and intellect are always expected in ladies,
so that it is not essential to urge the necessi
ty of their possession.
We will now glance in a very brief man-*
ner at the questions a young lady should 1 e
satisfied on, respecting the person she intends
to make the partner of her hopes and fears.
In the first place don't allow things of no
consequence to blind you in reference to
things of great importance. Don't marry a
man because he lias or has not hair on Iris
upper lip or under lip. Rather ask the Al
lowing questions: Has he any hereditan
disease ? Is he predisposed to consumption ?
Is he inclined to apoplexy, dropsy or scrot
ula? lias he lived a temperate life? Has
he any self-respect ? Is he industrious '(
Does he appreciate the arts aud sciences?—
Does he know anything, or does he want to
know anything? Is he magnanimous aud
forgiving, or petulant and malicious? Does
he respect religion, and venerate old age and
the Deity ?
The majority of these questions will be
found of vast importance for a young lady to
understand. Other questions respecting the
person’s ability to support a wife, Arc. might
be asked with equal confidence. The pecu
liar physical temperament and mental organ
izations that are the most congenial to each
other, and constituted to live happily togeth
er, might be known by consulting those who
have made it a particular study. Above all
things don’t suppose that beauty is a substi
tute for brains. Beauty is very desirable
when accompanied with intelligence, and by
it beauty is made more beautiful, but monoto
nous indeed will that face soon become that
lias nothing to commend its own regularity
and ornamental trimmings. Again: Wait
not for riches nor reject them when oilier
things are equal. A wise poor man is better
than a rich fool. Let worth and right, not
w.-alth and might, be your aim.
“ \©t Reciprocated.”
A good joke is going the rounds, of the
adventures of a young man ‘ ardent in love,”
who met with a bit of cold comfort.
Joshua stood beside his fair one trenftbling;
his heart kept turning over, his eyes gre w
dim; his tongue was paralyzed. A cold,
clamm}’ perspiration oozed through his skin,
while ever and anon lie rolled his liquid oi bs
tow ard Julietta. At length his knees, gave
way, and down he came upon his marrow
bones and thus addressed her: “My dearest
Julietta, with all my soul I love you: I love
you!”
Here his voice failed, and he would have
sunk upon the carpet, but, a timely answer
from her enrapturing lips brought him “spell
bound to his feet. “Rise, sir,’’ said she, “do
not humble yourself to me, for I do not ie
eiprocate your love.”
“Reciprocate! “Reciprocate!” whispered
Josh. What on earth does that mean,
thought he. And then off he went, net
even stopping to kiss her baud, in search of
a dictionary, hall’ mad with hope and half
with fear.
“A Dictionary!” he cried as he entered
the nearest bookstore, “a dictionary, I say!”
“Yes, sir, in a moment,’’ answered the
; clerk.
“A moment! thunder:” vociferated Jodi,
“1 want a dictionary.”
“A nicely bound one,” said the clerk:
sell ’em cheap; cheap as dirt.”
“Sell the d—l, I’m looking for a word/’
Over and over he turned the leaves. At la#t
: he stopped; be looked, he spelled, he sighed,
then laying down the book he Walked slowly
out, Baying a* he went, “kiebed by jiontiy.’
*■< ‘ ”•- il. . i 1