Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 9.
the GEORGIA CITIZEN
. „ .aedeverv Friday mornlngat *2.00 perannum In ad
paid iti,in three month*, or *3.00 If not pnld
* iifJrttomeat* at the regular chante will tie One Dollar
hundred too rdt or let*, for the Br*t Insw
I E* -id f7t'rv OrwMtor eaefc subaequent insertion. AU ad
c ij'j.sr t* r < specified as to time, will he published until
I rSfn<i ranted ace* Untly. A liberal discount allowed
; . , -eVh.. advertise by the year.
I 1 oMiiisrv Notices or over ten Kites, will be charged at the
I ... iinrenienis of candidate* for office to be paid for at
yl when inserted.
f <vral irrsrijemtnts made with county officers. Druggists,
A Z#Zm. Merchants, and other*, who may wish to make
‘at Land and \egroe*. by Executors. Admlnlstra
• O'ttidlM*. are required hy law to be advertised In a
a,
>\e hours of ten In the forenoon and three in the af
v!l at the 0 ’urt-house In the county hi which the prop
<r^(ifP(Mul Property must be advertised In tike
*bftvton
s..rt#e to Debtor* and Creditors of an Estate must be
■JTJTJ Sirfv days,
.. u K ,r‘.cation will be made to the Ordinary for
■ Land an.l Negroes, must be published weekly tor
’ Vtn, is for Letter* of Administration. thirty daysi for
, r: A ministration, monthly, six months; tor
w ky, f >rtv and iv.
atTilm for Koreelodng of Mortgage*. monthly, soar
. f r iort papers, for the toll space of three
. -i wok- -• r.i ,r
r . j'bona teas v >a*n given by the deceased, the toll spat* of
giocith*. _
rr..f.*-i"iini and Bieinrw I srds will be Inserted un
i-r this head, a the following rates, viz a,
y, , r five lit.es, per annum, I S ft*
,! evpc lines, do B<*
do Ten lines. do 10(10
.V.advertisement of this class will be sdmitted, unless paid
fir “i advance, nor Sot a leas term than twelve month*. Ad.
-t nts us over ten lines will be charged pro ruin. Ad
verr:-merit.* not paid for in advance will le charged at the
itgslar rates.
IHIIIIUIIIHIISsii
DR. H. A. METTAuER,
HAVING spent a portion of three succeniye years in
this city, daring which time he has limited kii
prsrt -e alnssst exclusively to Surgery, now respectfully
off -- h j services to the citisens of Macon and surround
ing vuntry, in all the branches of his profemiou. Office
c: theflouih East Corner of 3d and Cherry streets, over
Hr Aihsr Ayres’ new Grocery Store.
_ itpiT—tf
LANIEE
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
OP loam uwp 4\i) PII\SJU\ AfcE.\TS !
HACGH, QA.
hssit ss the regular business of their Profession they
htve fsr years past been engaged in proteenting claims
fer Bounty Land and Pension, In favor of soldiers, their
vidovi and minor children.
They here also obtained th* correct forms and the
rules fsr obtaining Bounties under th* Act of Oongrea*
lust parsed.
febM—tf
0. B.JICE,
TUNER AND REPAIRER
OT PIATVrcs xir-b-n TSS.
Is Permanently located In Macon. ISF'Names may
he left at liners. Virgin’* and at E. J. Johnston A 00.
l.otß—tf
BROWN’S J|HO TEL,
Opposite the Passpojrer Depot,
9i%c:ow9
B. B. BROWN, Proprietor,
PT Meals ready on the arrival of every Train.
aprlP—tf
L N. WHITTLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
MACON, GA.
OFFICE next to Concert Hall, over Payne’s Drag Store.
jsnlO—ly
J. R. DAVIS,
Land Broker, Collector & General Ag-’t.
Bui.ness attended to In any coanty In this State.
Office corner Jackson and Ellis Street, Augusta, Ga.
navi—tf
LOCHBANE & LAMAB,
Attorneys at Law,
MACON, GA.
Office by the'Mechanic’s Bank.
f\mcE HOURS fronrt to U A. M„ a to 5 P. M. and also
\Jfrom 7 to 10 P. M.
win practice in ail the Counties of the Maoon Circuit andln
tucoiir.Uesof Jones, Monroe and Columbia, and In the Su
preme Court.
0. A. LOCHRAN*. JOHN LAMAR.
ten I—ly.
SPEER & HUNTER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Macou, Ga..
•i on Tnaagakr block, Corner of Cherry
Street and Cottoo Avenie.
WE have a** -dated as partner* in the practice < f Law In
tie c..untie* o the Meet n and adioialnc Circuits, and
rje*t._- in the State by special contract—also, will attend
the Federal Courts at Savannah and Marietta.
ALEX. M. SPEER.
ft IMy SAMUEL HUNTER.
THE LIVER
IS VIG ORATOR!
PREPARED BY DR. SANFORD,
COMPOUNDED ENTIRELY FROM GUMS,
Isfiofthebe*t Purgative and Uv OT Medicine* now before
the public, that d* ** * Cathartic. easier, milder, end
. auJ * effectuii then anv other medldne known. It U not on
■yeCithartlc. but a Liver remedy, acting Breton the Liver
vt ’ • rt,ui matter, then on stomach and bowel* to
’T-’ -'ff that matter, thuj two pwpo*** effec
i *•. w.U..\*tany of the painful fajlnea exuonencea in the
fr• *'tti rjotmoar Oadrartto*. It 4ren*tben* the rvetem at
-■ **M time that it purge* it; anj when taken daily in mod
*s“ : “**■ wtl. strengthen and build It op with tuiuual rap
r UVKRUone oftfc. • principal regulator* of R*
, - l >dv : and when It a* perform* it* fraction* well,
r- ftkeayatemare ■■ fuliv .lev. h ,ped. TSeatom
f-; dent on the healthy action
. • Liver for the pr. per Jft terfnrmaooeoflt* function*;
■beathet—aih 1* at halt ithe bo web are at huit, and
, • yem fuffere li conaeqwnce of one organ—
■ ‘Lil a tou lb dntv. For the dls-
: v ’ : that toga*.one of the proprietors ha* made It
t* >tuuy. In a practice of more than twenty Vear*, to
’ • some remedy where- with to counteract the many
foment* to which It U M liable.
1 pr vetnatthia remedy! •** I* at out pound, any person
’ : with lIVKItI A COMPLAINT, la any of lu
J.I .CaMotrr abd ■ W Ue.anduonviatloolioettaln.
tr.e Guma numv :... morbid or bad matter from
<upoiyln It, 2 itheir place a healthy flow of
;•; the Amn-I lach.cauai’.i food to dlgeM
rt i'.IKYING THE H BLOOD. P.vlng tone and
. ait: *o the whole maefain-; ew, removing tne cause of
‘■'** —ffcrtirg a rad nm .cal cwre.
ATTACKS are cured. AND. WHAT IS
.■TEItjPREVENTKD ; by the occtoional u*e of the
Lit ERIXVIGORATOR. K.
, V s ’ kfter eating U *u4clectti> relieve the *ton
isi. ini prevent the tood “ from tiling and touring-
Af^, r -edo** taken befirte . retiring, prevent* SIGHT-
Only one doee taken at ™ night. Wsens the bowel#
*’ y. and cure* COS- TtVENESS.
bU Ukec after each ■■ meal will cure DYSPEP
!' n ed"*e of two ti- spoonful* will always re
•- t SICK HEADACHE. w
l, U.tile taken tbr fc m , mate obstruction* removes
■* °fthe disease, and I makes a per'ect core.
- inji.eifiaL J !lv relieve CHOLIC, while
,V f r ;teE repeated. ■ ,u sure cure fbr CHOL
tjA V'ißßi'j, ai.da pre-’ .enutire of CHOLERA.
*. 2j“T 2°* bottle U W. n.-eded to throw out of the
” 0 effecU Os modi- _ .im after* lungdekm***.
,tr ‘
’ <i ,se taken a short ■■ time before eating give* vtg
vppetite.andmakci fooddigw* well,
dust Often repeated cure* CHRONIC PIAR
r'S, la >l* w °rst forn.i, while SUMMER and
■’ EL complaint* yield aa almtwt to the first doee.
two dusea oir.-s me |attacks caused by WORMS
r- - a..iiren j there Uno *ur- - cr, fer, er speedier remedy
In the world, ae It never m feiU.
“ A few bottle* cure*; [DROPSY, by exciting the
■fe tike pl.-a*ure In re * jrummenuirg tbi* medicine
ts rrcvwstatlve for FE ;VER ANI) AGUE,CHILL
KE . kß.ar.d FE YERS of a BILLIOUB TYPE.—
si l“^ hou * ,and4 ‘ rtwimn#to
*ll who use it are giving IhHr unanlßH*s eati
niony in ita favor.
W Mix Water in the mouth w lh the lnvlgora
•'>r. and swrallow both lugrlhrr.
THE LIVER INVIGORATOR
fiiSGlOrariC MEDICAL DISCOVERY, and Udally
■ .Ult* cur t. 3 , * JI - -*v too gt-attc Pcilevy. It cure* as if by
f , , r ‘ b Ot, /pit dbw. vo top i.ocgi. and seljom more
t- .'resawed i° cure anv kind of LIVER Com
from the worst Jaundice or Duipeptia to a common
g4*Ag, all of which are the result of a DISEASED LIV
PRIC* ONE DOLLAR PER BOTTLE.
SANFORD A CO, Proprietor*.
B*s Kr -ad wav. New York.
Wliolosale A.ceuta :
Bamre A Park, New York ; T. W. Dyott A Son*. Phlladel
W* ‘ M s. Burr A Cos, Boston ; il. 11. Hay A Cos, Portland;
V r' 1 I *rk, Cincinnati; Gaylord A Hai,.moru, Cleveland
A Da via. Chicago : O. J. Wood A Od,TC Louis
aU*LS- Keyset, Pittsburgh; S. 8. Hence. Baltimore—
Aad retailed by alt Dragfist*. Sold Wholesale and Retail bv
uuja ’ hont * uo ; ,
Sever Say Fail.
Keep pushing—t.s wiser
Than sitting aside,
And dreaming and sighing,
And waiting the tide;
In life’s earnest battle
They only prevail
11 ho daily inarch onward,
And never say fail.
With an eye ever open,
A tongue that’s not dumb,
And a heart that will never
To sorrow auccomb,
You’ll battle and conquer
Though thousands assail;
How strong and how mighty
Who never say fail.
Ahead, then, keep pushing,
And elbow your way,
Unheeding the envious,
All asses that bray;
All obstacles vanish,
All enemies quail,
In the might of their wisdom,
Who never say fail.
In life’s rosy morning,
In manhoods’s fair pride,
Let this be your motto,
Your footsteps to guide,
In storm and in sunshine,
Whatever assail.
We’ll onward and conquer.
And never say fail.
The lletrayed;
OR, THE PURITAN’S REVENGE.
On a fine moonlight night, just previ
ous to the restoration of Charles 11, a
young man of gentlemanly appearance
was walking rapidly towards the village
of Charing. Ilis dress denoted that he
was of the sect of the Puritans. It was
Edward Marston, a widower with one
child, whose household was under the di
rection of his sister Grace.
He had proceeded for some time in
his solitary walk, when a band was laid
upon his shoulder. He started and turn
ed—it was his uncle Martin.
“Uncle !” he exclaimed, “what brings
you here at such an hour?”
“To tell thee that the Commons of
England and Monks have betrayed their
trust, and recalled Charles Stewart to
the throne of his fathers,”
“I have heard as much. England is
now no place for us. You and my late
father sat as judges on the tyrant’s trial.”
“Edward,” said the relative, “thou
art but lukewarm. But the Lord hath
reproved thee. Hath he not smitten thee
in thine affections ?”
“He hath !” groaned his nephew, with
a glance at his mourning garments. “She
I loved is in her grave l”
“And thy sister,” added the old man,
bitterly, “the child of her who bore thee
is dishonored !”
“What mean you?”
“That William Clayton even now is in
her chamber, despite my warning. Thou
wouldst shelter him, and the proud fool,
his brother. Like a serpent he has stung
you!”
“I must have proof of this.”
“Thou slmlt watch with me,” said the
old man, sadly, “and be convinced of the
dishonor of thy blood.”
Drawing their swords, they concealed
themselves behind a portion of the gar
den wall, from whence they could see
the window of Grace’s apartment.
Grace Marston was as lovely a crea
ture to look upon as earth could boast.
She had won the heart of the young
Royalist, who was her brother’s friend
and guest, and yielding to his solicita
tions, had weakly consented to a secret
marriage. There might have been—nay,
there was —imprudence iii that act, but
no dishonor. Unfortunately, his night
ly visits to her chamber were discover
ed by her uncle Martin, a jealous puri
tan, and the storm was ready to break.
“He comes'.” “whispered the old man
to his companion. “Now are you con
vinced ?”
“But too fatally.”
As the adventurous husband descended
from the window of the mansion—-for he
and his brother were lodged in a pavil
ion in the garden —both uncle and nephew
attacked him. They would listen, in
their blind fury, to no explanation, and
the young man must have fallen beneath
their united efforts, had not the clashing
of swords brought his brother Riohard
to his assistance. In a few minutes the
tables were fatally turned—Edward
Marston was dying.
No sooner did the young man perceive
the condition of his friend than he knelt
beside him, and attempted to raise him
from the ground.
“False friend !*’ groaned the dying
man.
“Not so, Edward —1 am true to thee.
Grace,” he whispered, “is my wife •”
A glance of satisfaction overspread
r the countenance of the Puritan, as he fell
( upon the sward a corpse.
But no explanation could appease the
wrath of Martin. Over the body of
his nephew lie vowed a deep revenge !
, Time will show how he fulfilled it. As
; guardian of his niece, he instantly pre-
I vented all possibility of her communi
cating with her husband, whom he brand
ed as her brother’s murderer, and affect
ed to disbelieve her marriage.
Poor Grace was truly wretched !
William and Richard returned to Lon
don, where they assisted in the restora
tion of the King, after several vain at
tempts to see Grace Marston. In the
gay court of the licentious monarch, the
brothers moved with eclat —alternately
the companions of Charles’ pleasure and
councils—honor and appointments were
lavished upon them with an inconsider
ate hand; both rose to high military
command. At length, when time had
sufficiently effaced the memory of Grace,
W illiam again began to indulge in
thoughts of love. Ellen Digby, the only
daughter of a staunch royalist, was the
object of his choice. The court and its
gay allurements were abandoned for mar
riage and retirement. Nine months af
ter the death of Edward, William and
his young bride arrived at his brother’s
seat, Tyler hill, near Canterbury. Grace,
who, since the death of her brother, had
given up her mind entirely to the guid
ance ot Martin and the preacher, New
light, heard of their arrival, if not with
out emotion, at least without a tear.
“W ait!” exclaimed her uncle, “1 have
engendering here what shall work retri
bution ; they have trampled upon us,
and we will turn and rend them !”
W ithin the year the bride presented
her husband with a son—fortune seemed
to smile on its birth; the young stranger
was not only heir to his father’s and
grandfather’s estate, but to the fair earl
dom which Charles had just conferred
upon Sir Richard Clayton, who heard of
the birth of his nephew with unmixed
satisfaction. Meanwhile, Martin and
Grace had disposed of all their property
in Kent, and a light vessel was secretly
engaged to o*rr,jr *rl**t,tna
tion. One night they suddenly disap
peared, and were never again seen in that
part of the country. Great was the con
sternation on the following morning, when
it was discovered that the young heir of
the Claytons’ had been carried off, no
one could tell how. In vain did the dis
tracted parents offer a reward ; messen
gers were dispatched into different parts
of England, but in vain; every clue
seemed lost, and the search was at last
abandoned as hopeless. William, with
his broken-hearted wife, returned to Lon
don, to forget, if possible, in the dissi
pation of the capital, the grief which prey
ed his upon heart. Nearly twenty years
rolled on, without the least intelligence
of the lost heir, when the Earl and his
brother were appointed to attend the
Duke of Monmouth against the Coven
anters in Scotland, whose success had at
first embarrassed the Government. Be
fore the royal army they were every
where defeated ; from Edinburgh they
were pursued to Dunbarton, and driven
from that stronghold to defiles difficult of
access on the opposite banks of the Clyde.
“I have a strong presentiment, Wil
liam,’’ exclaimed his brother as they
mounted their horses to lead the party
sent to dislodge the enemy from their
last defence ; “in all our encounters 1
have been singled out by an old man and
his sons —at least, from their being all
together, and fighting in concert, I esteem
them as such; something tells me that
to-day they will be successful!’’
Yfilliam laughed at the Earl’s auguiy,
and placed himself at the head of his
troops. The royal forces were again
successful, and the Covenanters complete
ly dispersed. Tfye Liarl, after the en
gagement, rode a short distance from the
field to observe the direction the fugitives
had taken, when he once more encoun
tered the old man and two young ones,
whose perseverance in tracking him he
had before observed during the day.
“So!” exclaimed the old man, “we have
met at last! The Lord hath given thee
to roe.”
The Earl recognized in the speaker
his old enemy, Martin; and aware of
his determined character, prepared for
his defence. Time, which had spared
the strength of Martin, had unnerved
the arm of his antagonist. He was no
longer the light active soldier who once
brought him to his feet. A few blows
decided the contest; the sword of the
Earl broke short, he was unhorsed and
stood unarmed at his mercy.
“Advance, boys!” cried the old man,
“and strike!”
They hesitated.
“Do you pause] Edward, Reuben—
for this you have been reared —will you
spare the murderer of your father ?”
‘<We cannot” —exclaimed the young
men at once—“we cannot become the
assassin! Give him a weapon, and sing
ly we will attack him; otherwise he is
scatheless for us.”
“Rebellious fools!” shrieked the old
man,passionately j bha! the bloodhounds
are upon us ! Nay, then, I must try my
own hand. Proud man, thy hour is
come ; one prayer for mercy is allowed
thee!”
“Slave I” answered the Earl, misoon-
MACOIV, GA. A3P3EIIL 18, 18S8.
ceiving him, “I offer no supplication to
such as thee! lam prepared.”
“The Puritan grasped his weapon,
and passed it twice through the body of
his enemy, who fell bravely without one
sigh. No sooner was the deed accom
plished, than the Royalists, headed by
William, reached the spot.
“Harm them not!” he exclaimed to
the exasperated soldiers. “Take them
alive—fit examples shall be made.”
The men disarmed their prisoners, and,
raising the body of their late commander,
proceeded with solemn steps once more
towards the castle of Dumbarton.
Notwithstanding the evidence of a
wounded officer, who had witnessed the
fate of the Earl, the young men, though
innocent of any participation in his crime,
were condemned to die with Martin.
The guard were already drawn up in the
castle yard, waiting for their commander
to give the signal from the window, when
a woman, deeply veiled, rushed into the
apartment.
“What would you?” exclaimed the
new Earl of Clayton.
“Mercy !” replied the female, sinking
upon her knees; “mercy for the wretch
ed youths who wait but your word to
meet their Maker!”
“It cannot be,” replied the Earl. Ex
ample is necessary ; and I have suffered
too severely from their malice to feel
disposed to mercy.”
“They must be saved or your soul and
mine will have to answer it. As you
would not press a sleepless pillow, as
you would wish to die in peace, postpone
the execution of those youths!”
“Woman, it may not be. The men
wait but my signal.”
“Give it, proud man!” exclaimed the
female, “but learn that the volley which
consigns my humble nephew to the
grave, carries witn it u c r..v~ ~e
“I’ll hear no more,” cried the Earl,
impatiently, rising and waving his hand
kerchief. “My brother is avenged.”
“And mine!” exclaimed the woman,
frantically, as the report echoed through
the castle.
“William, what have you done ?”
“Ha! my name! who art thou ?”
She slowly raised her vail.
“Heavens! Grace Marston ! Those
youths ?”
“One was my murdered Edward’s boy,
the other ”
“Speak !” exclaimed the stricken Earl.
“If ’tis as I suspect —one look—one word
will kill me!”
“W as the last heir of the race of Clay
ton V* replied Grace.
The bereaved father —bereaved by his
own act—heard no more; but fell, bro
ken-hearted, at the feet of the Puritan
sister.
The Square and the Level-
We meet upon the level aiul we part upon the square
What worHs of precious meaning, tlioee words Masonieare ’
Com let us contemplate them—they are wi irthy of a thought,
With the highest, and the lowest, and the rarest they are
fraught.
We meet upon the level, though from every station come,
The king from out hi* palace, the poor man from hi* home—
For the one must leave his diadem outside the Mason's
door.
And the other Had his true respect upon the checkered floor.
We part upon the square—for the world must have Its due.
We mingle with the multitnde, a cold, unfriendly crew ;
But the influence of our gatherings in memory is green.
And we long upon the level to renew the happy scene.
There's a world where all are equal; we are hurrying to it
fast;
We shall meet upon the level there, when the gates of death
are past;
We shall stand before the Orient, and our Master will be
there.
To try the blocks we offer with HU own unerring square.
We shall meet upon the level there; but never thence de
part.
There'* a mansion—'tls all ready for each trusting, ftdthful
heart;
There’s a mansion and a welcome, and a multitude Is there,
Who have met upon the level,and been tried upon the square.
Let us meet upon the level, then, while laboring patient
here.
Let ns meet, and let u* labor, though the lal>or be severe.
Already lu the western sky the signs bid u prepare.
Togather up our working tools, and be tried upon the square.
Hand- round, ye faithful Masons all, the bright fraternal
chain;
Ye part upon the square below, to meet in Heaven again.
O ! what words of precious meaning those words Masonic
are,
“We meet upon the level, and we part upon the square.”
A Delicious Temperance Te§t.
Whe wouldn’t live in almost any place
where the young ladies are addicted to
the delicious custom, which is set forth
by an exchange, as follows :
Quaker young ladies, in the Maine Law
States, it is said, still continue to kiss the
lips of the young temperance men, to see
if they have been tampering with liquor.
Just imagine a beautiful young girl ap
proaching you, young temperance man,
with all the dignity of an executive offi
cer, and the innoeenoe of a dove, with
the charge—Mr. Ike P., the ladies be
lieve you are in the habit of tampering
with liquor, and they have appointed me
to examine you according to our estab
lished rules—are you willing] You
must acquiesce. She steps gently up to
you, lays her soft white arms around
your neck, dashes back her raven curls,
raises her sylph like form upon her tip
toe, and with her angelic features, lit up
with a smile as sweet as heaven, places
her rich, rosy, pouty, sweet, sugar, mo
lasses, strawberry, honeysuckle, sunflow
er, nectar lips against yours, and (Oh,
Jerusalem, hold us) busses you, by
crackey. Hurrah for the gals and the
Maine Law, and death to all opposition.
■<♦*
23F”The postcript in a letter to the Mari
posa Gazette gives unquestionable evidence
of the great drought there. “Lager is very
scarce, and the dust very deep. The inhab
itants here use whiskey as a beverage — the
water being uaed for agricultural purposes.
The Union.
BX MRS. SARA H T. HOLTON.
“ Tim Union —it 7nv.lt hr preserved.”
Dissolve the Union !—let the blush of shame
Hide, with crimson glow, the brazen cheek
Os him who dare* avow the traitorous aim,
‘’ J* not the true, the wise, the good, who speak
Words of such fearful Import: but the weak.
Drunk with fanaticism's poisonous wine,
And reckless of the future, madly seek
To hold their saturnalia at the shrine
That noble souls have held, and still must hold, divine.
Dissolve the Union!—madmen, would ye rend
i The glorious motto from our country's crest ?
Would ye despoil the stars and stripe, that lend
IsWiie, food, protection to the world’s oppressed ?
Have ye no re verence for the I,l*l’ bequest
That our immortal sires bestowed crewhile ?
Has sin defaced the Image God Impressed
On your humanity, that, ve could smile
To see the lurid dames of Freedom's funeral pile ?
Dissolve the Union I—in the day, the hour,
Te rend the blood cemented tie in twain,
The feariul cloud ol civil war shall lower
On every old blue hill and sunny plain,
From torrid Mexioo to frigid Maine.
And man will arm, and strange new tanners wave.
And pallid women look on kindred slain ;
Brothers will battle, and the llfe-ulood lare
The threshold, noble sires aud husbands died to save.
Dissolve the Union!—no, ye conuotpart
With idle words the blessed ties that bind
In one, the interests of the mighty heart
That treasures up the hopes of all mankind?
Awhile, perchance, the blind may lead the blind,
A s(l men may follow pho-'pborescent light
From tmatch paths to quagiuuus, ere they tiud
The ray that shone so beautiful and bright.
Was but a phantom lure to deeper, darker night.
Dissolve the Union ‘.—never! Ve may Bow
The seedsof wild dissection o’er ihe land,
That men may reap in sorrow ; ye may show
The world your disregard of all its grand,’
Eternal interest* ; but a noble band
Os patriots, tried and true, will still remain.
With heart to heart, and sinewy hand to hand,
To guard from foul dishonor's stain
The jewels God has shrined in Freedom's holy sane.
Dissolve the Union !—no, destroy the page
That gives to human sight the hideous scrawl ;
Let aot the freemen of a future age
head these detested w.ords; they would recall
Shaine,madness. Imbecility, and all
That mars tho noon-tide glory of our time.
True to the undivided, stand or fall ;
To waver now isiulie ivss than crane
To battle for t lie right, is glorious, is sublime !
Geneva, Switkerland, l-’elt. ISojJ.
fJure (or CauceiM—U ought to
be * niversuit.i hmtwn.
Our attention ha * been ruvntly called
to a cure fur cancer.-*, whit li is of so
much importance that we wUh to make
it known as w idely as possible. Some
eight months ago, Mr. T. li. Mason—
who keeps a music store on Washington
street, and is brother to the well known
Lowell Mason—ascertained that he had
a cancer on his face of the size of a pea.
It was cut out by Dr. Wolcott and the
wound partially healed. Subsequently
it grew again, and while he was in Cin
cinnati on business it attained the size of
a hickory-nut. lie has reinaiued there
since Utinstmas, under treatment, and has
come back perfectly cured. The process
is this:
A piece of sticking-plaster was put
over the cancer, with a circular piece cut
out of the centre a little larger than the
cancer, so that the cancer and a small
circular rim of healthy skin next to it
was exposed. Then a plaster made of
chloride of zinc, bloodroot and wheat
flour was spread on a piece of muslin of
the size of this circular opening and ap
plied to the cancer for twenty-four hours.
On removing it the cancer will be found
to be burnt into, and appear of the color
and hardness of an old shoe-sole, and
the circular rim outside of it will appear
white and parboiled, as if scalded by hot
steam. The wound is now dressed, and
the outside rim soon suppurates and the
cancer comes out a hard lump, and the
place heals up. The plaster kill# the
cancer, so that it sloughs out like dead
flesh, and never grows aoain. This rem
edy was discovered by Dr. Fell, of Lon
dou, and has been used by him for six or
eight years, with unfailing success, and
not a ease has been known of the re-ap
pearance of the cancer w here this remedy
has been applied. It has the sanction of
the most eminent physicians and sur
geons of London, but has not till recent
ly been used in this country, and many
of the faculty, with their proverbial op
position to innovations, look upon it with
distrust. We saw Mr. Mason at church
yesterday, and have since conversed with
him, and took particular notice of the
cicatrized wound, and wo can only say,
that if the cure is permanent—and, from ;
the evidence of six or eight, years’ expe
rience in other cases, w r e have no doubt
I
it is—the remedy ought to be universally
known. We have referred to this case,
because Mr. Mason is well known, both
here and at the East. The experiment
excited much interest in Cincinnati, and
we call the attention of the faculty in
this State to the remedy. If it is what
is claimed for it, this terrible disease will
be shorne of most of its terrors. The
application is painful, but the pain is of
comparatively brief duration, which any
one so afflicted wmuld cheerfully endure.
—Milwaukee True Democrat.
You kissed me ! M y head had dropped low on your brea*t
With a fvelinx of shelter anil infinite rest;
While the holy emotion my tongue dared not apeak.
Flushed up. like a flame from my heart to my check.
Your arms held me fast—Oh ! your anus were so bold.
Heart heat against h art in their passionate hold:
Your glanct* seemed drawing my soul through my eye*,
As the sui) draws the mist from the sea to the skies.
And your lips clung to mine till I prayed in my bliss,
never unclasp from that passionate kiss.
Would you care If your breast were my shelter as then
And If you were here would you kiss me again t
To the last line we bog leave to reply in tiie language of a
certain Hibernian who was asked If he would take some whis
key—^“Wud a duck swim ?”— Exchange.
Cheating Printers.— An exchange says
that a man who would systematically and
wilfully set about cheating a printer, would
commit highway robbery on a crying baby
and rob it of its gingerbread —rob a church
of its counterfeit pennies, lick the butter off
a nigger’s last “slitter,” pawn his grand
mother’s specs for a drink of whiskey, steal
acorns from a blind pig, and take clothes
from a scarecrow that he may make a re
spectable appearance in society.
♦ to
A well known political economist says:
“We pay best, first, those who destroy us—
generals; second, those who cheat us—poli
ticians and quacks; third, those who amuse
us—singers and musicians; and least of all,
1 those who instruct us—authors, schoolmas
ters and editors.”
ol Patibiaa Lite.
A special cor respondent of the New
Orleans Delta, writing from Paris on the
4th January, gives the following queer
phastes of Parisian life :
‘Hie stock-brokers, as usual, figure con
spicuously in the ridiculous chronicle of
the day. You know their nature: They
ape the manners of the upper classes,
and like most imitators exaggerate their
model. As their money comes easily and
rapidly, it goes at the same pace, aud as
their profession tends to affect the con
science, they soon have no moral sense
at all, and look upon the world, as a
’change, where as much money is to be
made and pleasure obtained as man can
procure. They are the columns of the
Temple of Lorette. They are the most
lavish patrons of the expensive resturants.
They drive the smartest equipages found |
in the Buis de Boulogne. Among the
inumerable stories told of them, two es
pecially are characteristic and ludicrous, j
A good many of the stock-brokers*are
married men ; but you know the mar
riage vows form no impediment to illicit
commerce m Frenchmen’s eyes; nay,
they rather flavor vice with the relish of
illegality, rendering its attractions more
irresistible.
One of these married stock-brokers,
who, in addition to his wife, “protects”
one of the beauties of the Quartier Lor
ette ; she is his “club.” When he is
understood at home to have “gone to the
club,” he has, in reality, gone in the vi
cinity of Rue Saint Georges; he spends
every evening there. He was, as usual,
there on New Year’s eve, and while he
was there, the door-bell rang and the
servant introduced a young man of his
acquaintance, who, entering, bearing a
bouquet of flowers, and a poetical epistle,
addressed to the divine beauty, the lady
or me nouse. The stock-broker was very
angry, and said, in an ironical tone:
“Have you not mistaken the house, sir,
and the lady who is the object of your
poetical sighs?” “Yes, sir,” replied the
young man, “I am mistaken, and with
your permision, I shall rectify ray error.”
So saying, he went to the lady's writing
desk, and placed the poetry ir. anew en
velope, which he addressed to the wife
of the stock-broker. The husband was
furious, but he dared not say a word, for
he passed in that house as a bachelor!
“You were right, quite right, sir,” con
tinued the poet, “I was mistaken ; but I
have now corrected the mistake, and 1
hope 1 shall succeed, for the place is very
badly garrisoned. You are the master
here: will you be good enough to order
one of the servants to carry the bouquet
to its proper destination ?” Leaving the
flowers and the note on the secretary, he
took his hat, bowed and retired !
The scene of the other story is laid in
the Hue dela Paix, and at the period of
the day when that brilliant thoroughfare
Is most crowded. The day before New
Year a stock-broker suddenly found him
self face to face with his wife, as he came
out of one of the many jewelers’ shops
which tempt strangers’ eyes with so many
pretty objects for old friends at home.
It seems she had been observing his
movements for some time, and had no
ticed that he paid several bank notes for
the objects he purchased, to her irritation,
for he had given her that morning, all
the New Year’s gifts which she could
expect, and they were mere trifles, which
ho excused oil the plea of the crisis—
nothing was doing on ‘Change. Putting
her arm in his, with a decision which he
instantly saw it would be in vain to com
bat, she forced him back into the jewel
er’s shop, and said to the jeweler, “Show
me, if you please, my husband’s purchas
es.” The husband looked so crestfallen,
and the wife was so imperious, the jew
eler, after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed,
and laid before the couple a box contain
ing a costly bracelet, a gold chain, and a
breastpin mounted with diamonds. She
put the bracelet on her wrist, the chain
around her neck, the breastpin in her
shawl, and said, “Thank you, dear—these
j jewels are beautiful, and just the things
I wanted ; but I hope you will remem-
I ber, hereafter, never to make handsomer
j presents to any person than those you
j give your wife.” Whereupon she walk
ed out with a haughty step, followed by
her cowed husband; for he knew her too
1 well to say a word, since she is as strong
as she is large, and weighs as much as
she is worth ; she is the daughter of a
; millionaire.
In Russia, the Czar frequently makes
presents, chiefly jewelry, to the actresses
of the imperial theatres. For instance,
the other day the Emperor gave M’roe
Biseacciantr a necklace worth $1,200 after
her performance of Lucia di Lammer
moor. These presents are little valued,
the custom being to take them to the
crown jeweler, the day afterward, for
sale; the latter gives fifty per cent, of
their value, and sells them again to the
Emperor, who gives them again to the
artists. In this way, it is not improba-
ble, the chain M’me Bascaccianti receiv
ed has been given to twenty artists, and
will be given to as many more. Shock
ing as it may seem, this trade in presents
is common among ladies here. New
Year’s Day has scarcely passed away,
before they begin to sell some of the
splendid gifts they have received. —
This commerce has engendered the eager
ness of the ladies for costly presents;
there is no such thing as delicacy in giv
ing or receiving presents, the only fear is
the present may not be valuable enough.
It is made to pay an installment on the
lady’s bill at her mantua-maker’s or mil
liner’s, just as her box at the Grand Op
era is used to flatter these shop-keepers’
vanity, or to 9well the lady’s pin-money
in the summer when “everybody” is out
of town. You see how it is in Paris;
even friendship is worthless, unless it be
tendered in merchantable objects. And
yet these are the people who turn up
their noses at us Englishmen for slaves
of money !
Poetical Patchwork.
I only know she came and went [Lowell.
Like tremtlets in a pool. [Hood.
She was a phantom of deUght, [Wordsworth.
And I was like a fool! [Eastman.
“One kiss, dear maid,” I said and sighed, [Coleridge.
” Out of those lips unshorn.” [Longfellow.
She shook her ringlets round her head, [Stoddard.
And laughed In merry scorn. [Tennyson.
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, [Tennyson.
You hear them, oh my heart ? [Alice Gary.
’Tis twelve at night by the castle clock, [f'olerid.e.
Beloved, we must part. [Alice (Jury.
“ Come back, come back.” she cried in grief, [Campbell.
“ Mv eyes are dim with tears, [Bayard Taylor.
How shall X live throuet. alt the days, |Oseood.
Ail through ahuudret years?” [T. S. Perry.
‘Twas in the prime of Summer time [Hood.
She blest me with her hand. [H'>yt.
We stray together, deeply blest, [Mrs. Edwards.
Into the Dreaming Land. [Cornwell.
The laughing bridal roses blow. [Patmore.
To dress her dark brown hair, [Bayard Taylor.
No maiden may with her compare. [Brailford.
Most beautiful, most rare. [Read •
I clasped it on her sweet cold hand, [Browning.
The precious golden link, [Smith.
I calmed her fears and she was calm, [Coleridge.
“ Drink, pretty creature, drink !” [Wordsworth.
And so I wen my Genevieve, [Coleridge.
And walked in Paradise, [Hervev.
The fairest thiagthat ever grew [Wordsworth.
Atween me and the skies. [TenDyson.
Hymn of the Season Bowring.
Attune their evening hymn ;
All-wise, all holy, Thou art praised
In song of seraphim.
Unnumbered systems, suns and worlds
Unite to worship Thee,
Wtiile Thy majestic greatness fills
Space, time, eternity.
Nature, a temple worthy Thee.
Beams with thy light and love ;
Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below,
Whose stars rejoice above ;
Whose altars are the mountain cliffs
That rise along the shore ;
Whose anthems, the sublime accord
Os storm and ocean-roar.
Her song of gratitude is sung
By Spring’s a wagoning hours;
Her Summer offers at thy shrine
Its earliest, loveliest flowers ;
Her Autumn brings its golden fruits,
In glorious luxury given;
While Winter's silver heights reflect
Thy brightness back to heaven.
The Trade—A Parlor Game.
One of the party must be selected to
open the game, who does so by saying :
“I have apprenticed my son to, (naming
the trade,) and the first thing he made
or used was, (mentioning the initial let
ters of the article.)
Whoever first discovers the article al
luded to, takes the next turn. We
will suppose a number of persons are
playing, and the one agreed upon begins
with, “I apprenticed my son to a cabinet
maker, and the first thing he made was
an A. C.”
“Arm chair,” exclaims a player, and
this being correct, it becomes his turn,
and he says : “I apprenticed my son to a
dry goods store, and the first thing he
sold was a piece of P. M.”
“Paper muslin.”
“No, try again.”
“Was it printed muslin V’
“No, you are not right yet.”
“P. M.; I can't think ot anything else
beginning with P. M.”
“Will all of you give it up ?”
“Yes,” is the general cry.
“It was pink merino. Now it is my
turn again, as you did not guess it. I
apprenticed my sou to a grocer, the first
thing he sold was a 13. of C.”
“Box of candles,” someone says;
who, without delay, continues, “I appren
ticed my son to a hardware man, and the
first thing he sold was a B. 8.”
“Blower stand.”
“Well, I apprenticed my son to a con
fectioner, and the first thing he made was
c. c.
“Cocoanut cakes.”
“No, guess again.”
“It must be cream candy, then.”
“Yes, that is right.”
“I apprenticed my daughter to a dress
maker, and the first thing she made was
a B. S. B.”
“Black silk basque,” says another, and
so the game goes on, the questions and
answers passing rapidly from one to an
other, It affords a variety, sometimes,
to give out the initial letters of any ar
ticle that is in the room where the par
ties are playing. — Peterson's Magazine.
I have never known a fashion too ridicu
lous to be followed.
I have never known a system of religion
too absurd to find followers.
I have never known the order of nature
reversed to please any man.
I have never known a political abolitionist
that would put a negro in his best bed.
Indemnity for the past—pay up. Securi
ty for the future—pay down.
A lady feeding a printing press is apt to
catch cold, because she has to lay on damp
sheets.
Why is a loafer in a printing office like A
shade tree ? Because we are glad when he
“leave*/’
XVO- 4.
Marriage.
However disguised by the drapery of
sentimental phrases, the fact is indisputa
ble, that men and women were created
for the relationship of husbands and wives.
Marriage is, therefore, not a privilege,
but a duty ; and whatever tends to make
it desirable,so far contributes'to the'hap
piness of the race ; and whatever casts
discredit upon it, or renders such a con
nection disagreable, is at war with the
best interests of humanity. M<>at of the
ties we form tor business or pleasure, are
transient and casual, but this lasts for life,
and is the most intimate communion which
chu exist between intelligent creatures.
Hence upon its character depends, more
than upon any other single agency, the
enjoyment or misery of mankind. Poi
son this fountain, and you pollute all the
streams of life which flow through count
less channels of society. Debase this
“holy estate,” and you corrupt the very
sources of existence. Prostitute mar
riage. and not only must individual ex
cellence disappear, butsocial degradation
and natural ruin will follow. There are
many ways of doing this, but perhaps
the most effectual is through the tempta
tions to its perversion offered by the in
fluence of fashion. To be fashionable, it
is indispensably necessary to be extrava
gant, and the amount of expenditure re
quired by the despotism of custom is
fearfully augmented by marriage. The
income which enables a “young man or
woman” to make a very presentable ap
pearance in “Fifth Avenudity,” would
scarcely pay the porter of a fashionable
mansion, or enable the aspiring pair to
“receive” half a dozen times in the year.
Now, everybody knows that in this re
publican land, most men and all women
desire to be considered fashionable ; and
as this luxury is very expensive under
any circumstances, and is rendered in
finitely more so by marriage, and as the
outlet demanded is beyond the means, a
vast majority of young people inclined
to the altar, must give up society or live
single, or make marriage pay Us own ex
penses. But they will not submit to the
degradation of being “out of society,” or
the inconvenience of living alone; they
are driven on, therefore, irresistibly, by
the present organization of social life to
the adoption of the last alternative.—
How does this operate 1
In entering upon the most important
of all the relations of life, mutual affec
tion no longer forms the bond of union.
Congeniality of taste and disposition, sim
ilarity of habit and manner, equality of
position and education, are not regarded
necessary. Blooming youth is wedded
to withered age, refinement to rudeness,
elegance to vulgarity ; or if the advan
tages are equal, the tie which unites them
has been made by Mammon, not by love,
and the consideration they show to each
other is propriety, and is not the offering
of a warm reciprocal attachment.
The consequences of this condition of
things are growing more fearful day by
day. Infidelities, gross, appalling, mul
tiply every year, and legitimately result
from the false basis on which society
rests, and the false standards which it ac
knowledges. People who care nothing
for each other before marriage, are very
apt to care for somebody else afterward,
and if too virtuous or too prudent to be
tray their partiality, it nevertheless leads
to bickerings and disagreement and crim
inations. which make married life a source
of strife instead of svreetness. The evil
does not end here, the curse is entailed
with an accumulation of bitterness as it
descends upon the innocent offspring of
heartless parents. The atmosphere they
breathe, the scenes they witness, the ed
ucation they receive, abundantly qualifies
them for following the examples they
have witnessed.
Compare the habits of the present with
those of the past; look at the deteriora
tion we have undergone as a people, phy
sically, morally, intellectually, and if it
continues, tell me what must be our con
dition in this country, half a century
hence.
It is a subject over which patriots, and
those ofthem who are parents, especially,
should pause and ponder. Unless some
change can be wrought, utter demorali
zation must be the consequence. The
marriage tie will be despised save as a
title deed to fortune, or a cloak for in
trigue and filial affection, and obedience
become subjects of laughter for “Young
America.” These are plain truths, but
it is better to tell them now while re
form is possible, than bewail them after
all hope of improvement is past. Re
member it is said, “those whom God
hath joined together let no man put asun
der.”
A Word to Young Men. —If you wish
for a clear mind, strong muscles and quiet
nerves, for long life and power prolonged un
to old age, avoid all drinks but water and
mild infusion of that fluid ; shun tobacco and
opium, and every thing else that disturbs the
normal system ; rely upon the nutritious food
as the basis, and you will need nothing beyond
these things, except rest, and the due moral
regulations of all your powers, to give long,
happy, and useful lives, and a serene death
at the elese.