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V OXjlw 9*
the GEORGIA CITIZEN
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.t*'? ™th Court-house in the county in which the prop
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. Application will tie made to the Ordinary for
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£l6lll MSI!!!; CARDS
LANIER & ANDERSON,”
ITTORNE yS AT LAW,
Macon, G-a.,
RIiCXICI in the counties of the Macon Circuit, and in
C unties of Sumter. Monroe and Jones; also in the
: sen: Courts at Savannah.
_iXIER i ANDERSON liave also recently become the
<■■■■ f;! following Insurance Companies :
■; AC.VSTA INSURANCE AND BANKING COM
|.VV idwUch W. M. D’Antignac is President, and C. F.
licay is Secretary.
- \LAiiAMA FIKE AND MARINE IN9UR-
I'riMI’ANY. Montgomery, of which T. H. Watts is
.• •silent. and A. WllUaur.s is Sei-retary.
--K?and ri-i- n slavos taken #i usual rates.
tPr-|f
BL H. A. METTAUER,
TTIriSG spent a portion of three successive years in
11 .3 city, during which time he has limited hi*
a: -1 mest exclusively to Surgery, now respectfully
• -•-rrice* to the citiiens of Macon and surround
's - -otry, _a all the branches of hi* profession. Office
• . hastOorner of 3d and Cherry streets, over
b iv T Ayres’ new Grocery Btore.
jtjtfT—tf
0, Bj_RICE,
MM AND 0m RFPAIRER
IfPIAKTO FORTES,
!i P.:itruntly located in Macon. las Names may
..ittUeisn. Virgin’s and at E. J. Johnston A Go.
•uOrS—tf I
!BOWrsf|HOTE L >
Opposite the Passenger Depot,
E. E. BROWN, Proprietor,
0T Meali ready on the arrival of every Train.
iprlO— tf
L. N. WHITTLE,
ITTORNEY AT LAW,
MACON, GA.
KCEnext to Concert Hall,over Payne’s Drug Store.
,aalo—ly
J. R. DAVIS,
•ui Broker, Collector & General Ag- t.
Nk* attended to in any county in this State.
-Lcsraer Jackson and Ellis Street, Augusta, Ga.
tml-tf
lOCHEANE & LAMAR,
Attorneys at Law,
MACON, GrA.
Ofice by the Mechanic’s Bank.
HOURS from 8 to 12 A. M., 2 to 5 P. M. and also
iop. M.
, Counties of the Macon Circuit an din
Monroe and Columbia, and in the Su-
WHRANF. JOHN LAMAR.
1T SPEER & HUNTER,
UTORNEYS a t law,
Macon, G-a.,
11 biimrnlfir Blotk, Corner of Cherry
Street and Cottoo Avenue.
IV;'ln the practice cf Law In
k.. .v the Macon and adjoining Circuits, and
; - - “Mr by -ipvclal contract—*lso, will attend
a Savannah and Marietta.
:..;Mv ALEX. M. SPEER.
iL bAMUEL hunter.
v THE LIVER
“I6OR AT 0 R!
BV DR. BANFORD,
FUNDED ENTIRELY FROM GUMS,
• P’-ptive and Liver Medicines new before
‘ i Cathartic, easier, milder, and
1 . - -r miv uther medicine known. It Is not on
’ remedy, acting first on the Liver
L ’ ‘ ; _-ttrr. then on the Stomach and bowels to
1 T ;s?* accomplUMng two purposes effec
“ • c . feelings experienced In the
*t •- .... tfies. If strengthens the system at
• !t •, V‘ and ‘" r her, taken dallv In mod
's. “ ffergrher. and build It up with unusual rap-
S , “ Pl ;/o 'fiu- • principal regulator* of the
* when i’ ag performs its functions well.
-„s. ..- ..'’ “. :r ;ir fully developed. The stom-
dent on the healthy action
3 performance of Its functions:
. the !>oweliare at ftalt, and
m oonueuuence of one organ—
S v ***<} to do It* dutv. For the dls
ti - 1 r * the proprietor* has made It
. ‘’'••j-’ • more than twenty years, to
counteract the many
- ’ _ jsatlast found, any person
to-n S COMPLAINT, In any of its
i.-"*- w™. t< l 'e. and conviction Is certain.
‘ o ,r-, ri 'Sl e „ . n - morbid or bad matter from
v f ” v tl.eir place a healthy flow of
- ,i ?%jsztsxzi
* a-sr* *•—*
: w> are cured, AND, WHAT IS
* ty the occasional use of the
£ iftg* ftwtln rr t * 1
‘ ; f ?r,t - “ Ima su ®nient to relieve the stom
- from rising and souring.
efure retiring, prevents NIGHT
t : euref*?!,? * flight, looeens the bowels
: ££ TIVENESS.
“"“each oi mea i wiU cure DTSPEP
•••“KAI.a ac spoonfuls will always re
tjjJy taken faC’
. d'-ei-A male obstructions removes
j :gsswaaan
!>• CS, Isa sure cure for CHOL
■ *• ‘ -ti. r -m ventative of CHOLERA.
!• “■. needed to throw out of the
! pi*,', e- cine after a long sickness.
,• • - JAUNDICE removes all •
1 ‘it'i fi “ r from the Skin.
-': -re.ami mi ke ®e before eating gives vi#-
, ‘ tV;. , ■” as food digest wall.
-r - * cures CHRONIC DlAß
whlle SOMMER and i
almoet to the first dose. I
. ‘"ff 3 * attacks caused by WORMS
5p a- ;-", ‘* r . safer, ar speedier remedy
L . -r . -- tT 8H fail#
-S Cures DROPSY, by exciting the
a- commending thU medicine
ri- ‘cV: VKR AND AOrEjCItILL
-of a BILUOUS +YPE.-
t * -a t‘d thousands are willing to
hj *ko U „ 1 •- tuts.
it’ Uu (lr * re suing tlieir unanimous e*li-
n
."'••P’Vlil!li l *,*” ,n, *'>ih wilt tip-lm Lora-
JUn tJT I ’ ‘"Wither.
fIJ - UVER INVIGORATOE
‘"'-i-W Eb,rAL DISCOVERY, and is daily
! *r Hr,i ‘U great to believe. It cures as if by
[ • “' u le n, se,5 e , 9mng benefit, and seldom more
‘tthe wemlr, 10 .. cu any kind of LIVER <’om
or Duipepriu to a common
““da we thereto! a DISEASED LIV
t*i e . .
<SB DOLLAR PER BOTTLE.
SANFORD A OO , Proprietors,
k v _ Ses Broadway, New York.
|
t i'lV;^n\c a Y nHj T ’ U’- D >' o * Son., Phlladel
rl^.iSSn. H. Hay k Co.. Portland;
SCILIN, HDi^ioo^
For the Georgia Citizen.
A FEW WOHDs OF IDtICE,
lo llie S’upiiK oi'tlie Wesleyan
E'aniale tollege.
FROM A FEMALE FRIEND.
Dear young Ladies :—Permit a friend
to address you a few kind words of ad
vice, for your present, future, and eternal
welfare. And think not lam prompted
to address you thus, by any motive,
other than the deep interest I feel for
your improvement and ffappiness.—
Though, when I tell you, that your edu
cational advantages are far superior to
what my own were, you may probably
imagine me arrogant, in presuming to
advise those so much above me in learn
ing. But bear in mind, my young friends,
my object is not to impart instruction to
you, myself, but it is to advise you,accord
ing to my humble views, how you should
strive to improve under the instruction
of your Preceptors.
our Parents and Guardians havepla-!
ced you at this Institution to receive a
thorough education. Your Teachers feel
a heavy responsibility resting upon them, i
in the faithful discharge of their duty 1
towards you. They are expected to ad
vance you through the different branches
of learning, and send you from College
with an accomplished education. Now*:
young friends, allow me to enquire, if it :
is just, that the whole burden of respon
sibility should rest on the faculty, and
none on yourselves ? I think not. Un
less you apply yourselves to your studies,
and determine to perfectly understand
them, through the assistance of your in
structors, they should not be held respon
sible—though you pass through College
so deficient, that you undeserve even the
third honor in you class. Yet, notwith
standing, they are too often censured for
your imperfections; through your inat
tention to improve your time, in storing
your minds with useful knowledge,
while your teachers are toiling from day
to day to impart such. Is this right? ,
I hope you will all agree with myself,
it is not. If you will allow the home
ly comparison between yourselves and
the wilful mule, that can be led to
water by one man, but unless he
chooses himself, many men cannot make
him drink. Your teachers can guide
you on to the fountain head of literary
science, but unless you instil into your
own minds their instructions, they will
certainly fimd their efforts spent in vain.
Patience and perseverance, together
with a good share of self-corfidence, are
the cardinal virtues you should possess,
for the successfu l attainment of a thorough
education, There are, doubtless, many
of you who are favored with high intel
lectual faculties, but you permit a spirit
of impatience to predominate -, and hence,
you depend more exclusively on acquir
ing knowledge by observation of others,
than by personal application. When, if
if you would patiently persevere, with a
resolve to surmount all difficulties, within
yourselves, you would, doubtless, feel a
calmer peace of mind attending your ef
forts, and probably many more of you,
througn a deficiency of self-confidence,
depend too much on others for assistance,
—in writing your compositions, lor in*
stance —you come to the immediate con
clusion, that you are not smart enough
to write them, without ever having made
the attempt to do so—and go to others ,
to write them for you. This, my young
friends, you will admit is true, but will
you not also acknowledge, upon reflec
tion, that it is not the proper course you
should pursue? For you are not only
deceived yourselves, but you deceive
your preceptors and the public, by palm
ing off, as your own, the sentiments of
others.
Now I will explain whv you are your
selveti deceived : To rid yourself of a
task, that necessarily demands a short
concentration of thought, you fall into
this error —when, if you would select
your subject and sit quietly down, and
with your ideas thereon, you would be
surprised at you own abilities, and by
not doing so, you deceive yourself. —
There are few persons who are fully
aware of the powers within them, until !
necessity calls them to action. The gen
erality of young girls, are full of roman
tic sentiment; you all have your own
peculiar ideas, purely original —be-
sides those acquired by education; and
with these qualifications. I see no hind
; ranee, whatever, why you should not
| writo your own compositions, (and 1
trust the number are few,) in the “N\.
F. College, who will not, especially,
when you are expecting to graduate, with
the highest honors of College. Oh, for
shame, young ladies! Ilow can you
claim a JMploma. w hen you are believing
yourselves incompetent to write your
graduating composition ?
I hope, dear girls, that you will take
i my remarks, on this last subject, kindly,
as they are given in a kind spirit, for
your good. 1 would I were able to im
press upon your minds the brevity of
time, and how vastly important it is that
you should improve every moment, use
fully. Now are your golden days, and
if they are misspent, all your after years
will be filled with regrets. Only think
of those who are denied the great advan
tages with which you are blessed, and
how happy many poor girls would feel,
if they were thus favored. And, while
you are engaged in storing your minds
with literature, O! do not forget your
immortal souls, which are of far more
value than aught else. The religion of
Christ will fit and adorn you for any po
sition in this life, and, best of all, it will
prepare you for the enjoyment of eternal
happiness in Heaven.
And when you shall have completed
your College course, and return to your
paternal home,, to enter upon the broad
arena of life, do not flatter yourselves
with the erroneous idea, that you have
nothing more to learn, but the most ap
proved modern style of acting the fash
ionable lady, to attract the attention of
the beaux. Ah! the beaux! Yes, you
each one ex’pect to marry—you ll detest
old maids!” Well, then, commence the
very essential branch of female educa
tion, that will prepare you to fill the po
sition of a good house wife , without di
minishing the lustre of the accomplished
lady.
But says one, “I have no need of know
ing any thing of domestic affairs, I shall
be supplied with a train of servants to
take charge of this department.” But
stop, my fair friend, I would ask you a
question, and tell you a secret, if you are
a stranger to domestic duties. How can
I yrm rliroot yuui SGi'VillltS ctlTCj WlLllCHit
rules and regulations, in the management
of domestic government, how do you ex
pect to succeed, without a scene of dis
order and confusion ? And where have
you the certainty, my fair one, that you
will always have a “train of servants ?”
Riches take wings and fly away, some
times. And in case of such an emer
gency, you will then find the knowledge
of house-hold affairs, was an indispensa
ble point in your education. And it is
much easier to learn this useful branch
while young, than be compelled to take
it up in advanced life. And it is also
much better to be competent to instruct
your servants in this department, than
be ignorant of such. Very often, through
the entire Ignorance of a mistress, to
to know how her domestic work should
be perfectly executed, poor servants are
censured, and frequently punished for
the fault, which more justly belongs to
the mistress. Therefore, my young
friends, if you would be truly accom
plished, seek to adorn the character of
both the lady and the house-wife,
MATTIE.
For the Georgia Citizen.
TRUTH.
Truth is mighty,
Will prevail;
Through the world
Triumphant sail!
Truth! thou pearl gem of Earth; well
might 1 liken thee to the diamond, whose
ray sends forth flashes of most effulgent,
resplendent light from the darkest recess.
Thou dost most graciously emit thy
sparkle from every spot. On the sea,
with billow foaming, majesty heaving,
there dost thou dwell. At home, abroad,
every where, thy gorgeous light is spread.
Truth, brightest meteor that e’er shone,
the most unchanging, unerring sentiment,
the soothing influence that sheds its ray
of lambent and refreshing light upon
this proud world ! Most worthy of love,
of homage, truly thou art the household’s
greatest treasure. How sweet to see
thy breathings from the human heart!
The intellect of man, all his power, and
attainments of grandeur, pomp and state?
all fade swiftly away into nothingness
before thy dazzling sway.
Oh, Truth! mightier thou art than a
thousand armies! More enduring than
the mount of stone. Surely thou wast
dropped by some kind,sympathetic angel,
in flight to us, given us as
an earnest of the good thou would’st ac
complish —yea, thou comest from above;
the pure abode of the saints. Truth, it
is more firm than aught it can be likened
to. ’Tis the noblest effusion of the hu
man heart; with its steadfast, unwaver
ing light, it ever points out a glorious
path, but follow in its footsteps, and
thou wi’lt ever find thy longing, anxious
hopes gratified. Ah, its smiliug influ
ence has made Earth like to heaven !
“Truth, mighty thou art and wi'lt prevail.
ROSAUE.
The Wonders of Nature.— “ What do
you think of that ?’’ said an enthusiastic
tourist to a bumpkin, who was looking at
Niagara for the first time in his life.
“Well, there’s a good deal o’ water, but I
knew a man in our neighborhood that s got
a calf with five legs.”
i Evidently he thought Niagara no great
i shake*
aA. AfPmjL 3o f isse.
Building Upon the Sand.
BY ELIZA COOK.
’Xis well to woo, ’lis well to wed,
For bo the world has done
Since myrtles grew, and roses blew.
And morning brought the sun.
But have a care, ye young and fair,
S Be sure ye pledge with truth ;
lie certain that your love will wear
Beyond the days of youth.
For if ye give not heart for heart.
As well as hand for hand.
You'll find you’ve played the unwise part.
And built upon the sand.
Tls well to save, ‘tis well to hare
A goodly store of gold.
And hold enough of shining stuff,
For charity is cold.
But place not all your hope and trust
In what the deep mind brings;
vV e cannot live on yellow dust
TTnmlxed with purer things.
And he who piles up wealth alone,
Will often have to stand
Beside his coffer chest and own
’Tis “built upon the sand.”
‘Tis good to speak in kindly guise,
And soothe whate’er we can ;
For speech should hind the human mind,
Ana love link man to man :
But stay not at the gentle words.
Let deeds with language dwell:
The one who pities starving birds,
Should scatter crumbs as well.
The mercy that is warm and true.
Must lend a helping hand.
For those who tala, yet tail to do,
But “build upon the sand.”
For the Georgia Citizen.
THE SOYS OF ESN A.
A Tragi-Apotheosis, in five acts, by T.
11. Chivers, M. D., author of “Vm
GINALTA,” “MemORALTA,” “Lo*T Pl.Kl
ade,” Ac., Ac. Ac.
A celebrated poet once wrote to his
friend: “As the paradisiacal pleasure of
the Mahometans consist in playing upon
the flute and lying with Houris, be mine
to read eternal new romances of Marivaux
and Crebillon. For ourselves, if we may
be allowed to parody the aspiration, we
should leave those out-of-fashion and
questionable Frenchmen to their repose,
and sigh for perpetual new volumes of
Dr. Chivers. It was an intellectual
luxury to sit down to a perusal of his
soul-inspiring Lyrics. We may be pret
ty confident of meeting with three things
of no small moment:—ingenuity and
acumen of thought, couched in sublimest
terms, —the finer spirit of learning,—
and breadtn or view, or n baianna <v P
preeiation of human motives. Language
is vital in his hands. His style might
be described as metaphysical, temper
ed by a higher literature and general
knowledge of the world.
We have always been a great admirer
of Dr. Chivers, and particularly so,
because his works are fraught with love—
the] divine love of a heart, which only
beats for the Good, the Beautiful, and
the True; but, of all his works, we are
prone to say, that “The Sons ot Usna,”
is the very pride and crown, inasmuch
as it occupies, per se, a higher place
in the estimation of the true Apollo, than
any Lyric, patriotic, or othewise. It is
the sacred utterance of a loving soul
who aspires to become the Revelator of
a diviner Beauty than thismiserable worjef
can afford. In it we discover not only
something that corresponds w-ith the true
Christian’s idea, of what man should be,
but that only true nobility which belongs
alone to the soul of him whose life is
spent in disdaining the dust of the earth,
as he loves the pure path of the Garden
of God, or the Pastures of Immortality.
It is not easy to detach single expressions
from this continuous flow of Beauty,
though we are frequently supplied with
new and lofty thoughts in the different
members of a sentence. In the character
of Caffa, the Druidical High Priest and
Bard—who is the primum mobile of the
whole Drama—we discover the Ideal of
the perfect ®an ; one, who is not Greek,
nor exactly wholly Gothic, but a God
like, God-creative Prophet, conscientious,
from the beginning—from having lived
the truly \ alhalla-life, —of possessing a
power equal to any of the Gods. We
also perceive the like dignity of true no
bility of the young Immortals, in the
majestic movements of the royal Sons of
Usna. They not only walk erect—their’
foreheads always fronting the Heavens ;
but they are so scornful of the earth
that they permit no parts of their bodies
to touch it but the soles of their feet.
Daidra is the creme du creme of the per
fection of Beauty. And, as for Laver
cam, Caffa only can tell. In a word, we’
regard “The Sons of Usna” as the high
est achievment of the human intellect.
Dr. Chivers possesses a pen of inex
haustible fertility. He is a fruepoet;
because he is a true man, ever striving
after a better, by presentiments of a high
er existence than the present; and poetry
is the real interpreter of his conscious
ness. All that is purely human is poetic.
What is purely/human 1 Why, that
which is not merely accidental in its con
nection with man. That which does not
look on the mere surface of life, but at
that which is eternal in it. That which
at once recognizes man as a fjptrit and a
creature. All that which at once de
scribes man as a spirit, as a willing and
thinking existence, and as a creature bodi
ly, and of independent action, is poetry.
To analyse and demonstrate the whole
circumstances and relations between these
two existences and their rights, is poetry.
And no American poet has more fully,
or in a more manly way, embraced poet
ry, or achieved it, in this sense, than Dr.
Chivers. A great poetic world lies at
! his feet, and he has the discernment to
j see it, while his soul is baptized with the
I spirit of Heavenly wisdom, Q,
“How Beautiful In Earth.”
BY MRS. SIGOURNEY.
G God! how beautiful is earth.
Id sunlight or in shade
Her forests with their waving arch,
Her flowers that gem the glade.
Her hillocks, white with fleecy flocks.
Her fields with grain that glow,
Her sparkling rivers deep and broad,
That through the valley flow.
Her crested waves that clash the shore,
And lift their anthem loud,
Her mountains with their solemn brows,
That woo the yielding cloud.
0 God 1 how beautiful is life
That thou dost lend us here,
With tinted hopes that lino the cloud,
And joys that gem the tear.
With cradle hymns of mothers young,
And tread of youthful feet,
That scarce, in their elastic bound,
Bow down the grass-flowers sweet.
With brightness round the pilgrim’s staff,
Who at the set of sun,
Beholds the golden gates thrown wide,
And all his work well done.
But if this earth, which changes mar,
This life, to death that leads,
Are made so beautiful by Him,
From whom all good proceeds.
How glorious must that region be
Where all the pure and blest
From chance, and fear, and sorrow free,
Attain eternal rest.
For the Georgia Citizen.
TRYING FOItTI \i:S.
Now, girls,” said S.iflie, “we will try
our fortunes with the white of an egg,
before the sun sets. \\ e were all
school girls, and spending the night with
Sallie B. “Come, continued Sallie, “we
will take an egg, crack it and drop a
quantity of the white into a glass of clear
water. The egg will rise and form
shapes which will answer to the profes
sion or occupation of the man you will
marry. Old Mrs. Mullins says her moth
er tried it, and saw a pair of shears and
a cabbage, and sure enough she married
a tailor! “You don't say so !” “How
strange!’ “Wonderful!” Were the
—■=!"——r i.ir uicauiuus and as
tonished listeners. Yes, and the rich
widow, Mrs. Nealy,says her mother tried
the same, and saw a field of corn, which
signifies a farm, though she married a
miller, which, you know, is much about
the same thing, only, one makes the corn
and the other grinds it.” “Do you know
of any more, Sallie?” “O, yes ! Mrs.
Popton’s first husband’s aunt saw a bun
dle of foodder”—“and married a fodder
stack,” put in one of the girls. “No, she
married a horse-jockey. Then my great
grand-mother, who lived a hundred and
ten years, she married a descendant of
the Engligh nobility!” “W T ell, well!
Did she try her fortune this way ? andwhat
did she see ?” “Yes, she did, and saw a
tremendous large knife, and she married
the son of a butcher !” “Why, Sallie !
I thought you said she married a man of
noble descent?” “So I did, and so he
was. His father was butcher to King
George 7/7.” This was too irresistible,
and we girls burst into a peal of laugh
ter that might have done credit to a
parcel of boat hands. Sallie seemed a
little discencerted at our shocking bad
manners, but probably consoled herself
by thinking none of us dared to trace our
pedigree to the butcher stalls of royalty.
We soon became deeply interested in
trying to read the future in the fantastic
shapes formed in our respective tumblers.
Ellen declared she saw a steeple, and
would marry a minister. She, however,
married a lawyer, and says she was mis
taken, that it was the steeple of a court
house, instead of a church, that she saw.
Betty saw a plantation and expected to
marry a planter—-perhaps she would, if
she had not run away and married her
father’s overseer. Sallie saw a duck and
pair of spectacles, and sighed as she
thought of marrying a quack! Sallie
married a merchant, though she says her
fortune was’nt far wrong, for her sister
married a near-sighted quack. The only
figures the girls saw in my glass, were a
pair of doctor’s saddle-bags and a dinner
pot. I have seen nothing of either yet,
and wait in silent expectation.
MOLLIE MYRTLE.
You Kissed Me.
You kissed ma! My head drooped low on your breast,
With a feelin* of shelter and infinite rest;
While the holv emotion your tongue dared not speak,
Flushed up, like a flume, from vonr heart to your cheek;
Your arms held me fast—oh 1 your arms were so bold,
Heart beat against heart in their paseionate hold ;
Your glances seemed drawing my soul through my eyes,
As the sun draws the mist from the sea to the skies.
And your lips clung to mine till I prayed id my bliss
They might never unclasp from that rapturous kiss!
You kissed me! My huart and my breath and my will,
in delirious joy iorihe moment stood still.
Lift had for me then no temptations—no charms—
No vista of pleasure outside of vour arms.
And were I this instant au angel, possessed
Os the glory and peace that are given the blest,
I would ding my white robes uiireptningly down.
And tear from my forehead its beautiful crown,
To nestle once mate in that heaven of rest.
With your lips upon mine, andmy head on your breast.
You kissed me; My soul iu a bliss eo divine,
. P.eoled audsw. or .and liken foolish man drnnken with wine,
And I thought twore delicious to die then, i f death
Would come while my mouth was yet moist with your
hreath;
‘Twere delicious to die if my heart might grow cold
While your arms wrapt me round In that passionate fbld,
And these are the Questions 1 ask day aud night:
Must my life taste hut once such exquisite deliglt ?
Would you care If your breast weremv shelter os then ?
And if I were there would you kiss me again (
Wksiernlsmjj.—The dialect of the west is
raytlier strong, and slight /tally hyperbolical.
One Brown, who has lately been travelling
m the Occident, as far as Arkansas, says that
when a mau in that region desires to say
that he would like to have a drink, he de
clares that if he had a glass of whisky he
would throw him*elf outtide of it. almighty
quick ! A mau enumerating his family,
goes a point beyond the conclusion of the
John Rogers lust, and says—“ There is Bill,
and Sail, and Sam, and Dave, and John, and
Mary Ann, and the t>aby, and the protpett
That will do, —‘Bouton poet.
1 Roiuatlc Incident.
Some months ago a young gentleman and
lady of this city, whose families possess
wealth and social position, having passed
through that serai-prosaic, semi-poetic state
known as courtship, concluded they were
“in love” with one another, and as usually
happens with parties so afflicted, desired to
be married for the purpose of effecting a
cure. The parents were not averse to this
love-match—for they thought it nothing
else—believing that a union of the “fortunes
of the two houses” would bed mutually ad
vantageous. The youthful pair seemed
adapted to each other. Both were refined
and cultivated to the extent which a most
liberal ‘education,'opportunities for travel and
surroundings of affluence and art can afford.
Their tastes were congenial ? *and their tem
peraments harmonious. There ob
jection, however, to the young man upon
the part of the girl’s parents —he was not re
ligious, in the peculiar sense of the term ; ho
taught no Sabbath school class ; did not at
tend divine service as often as there was any
to attend; did not refrain altogether from bil
liard saloons and bar-rooms. To be sure, he
had no vices was moral enough as the age goes
but the parents es his inamorata were Pres
byterians of the most frigid stamp, and fear
ed, as they phrased it, to trust their beloved
daughter's happiness to one who was with
out God in the world.
The parents of the youth—also of the
Presbyterian persuasion—were approached
upon the subject, and the consequence was,
was urged to become a member of
the church and a Sabbath-school teacher ; to
abandon smoking and • asssociations with
young men disposed to be fashionably fast.—
Paul remonstrated ; declared he was not so
much of a sinner after all. and that he did
not wish to contract his liberty to gratify
any one’s whims, ignorant tha‘ his proposed
marriage was in any way connected with
his more careful observance of church disci
pline. The subject was broached again and
ftrmir nrgoij ooTxiplittiicjc willi tilt*
wish of his and her own parents ; his moth
er-father, sisters, ami many of his father’s or
thodox friends talked to him of the matter
until he was weary and indignant—so pas
sionate and unreasonable is youth—and de
clared he would not attend church at all.
Paul kept his word, of course—hoir-brain
ed youths always do such words. Aban
dsning church he cultivated billiards assidu
ously and extended his bar-room patronage.
He contracted a fondness for drive? and fast
horses as well as very fast young men ; be
came initiated into Sunday games of chance
and so enlarged his circle of acquaintance
with both sexc3, that in less than two
months from the attempt, as he called it, to
press him into the church service, he was as
full-fledged a genteel rowdy as need be. —
He could drink copiously, and play at a
first-rate game of poker; was perfectly in
his element in a Sunday afternoon drive, with
his cheeks flushed with wine, and the pros
pect of an all-night’s dissipation before him.
He even withdrew himself by degrees from
the society of Helen ; finding, we fear, con
solation in other loves, that once would have
shocked him to think of, and horrified him
to behold.
Helen now saw with deep grief Paul’s rap
id allienation, not only from herself, but his
virtue, his character and friends. She re
proached him as gently as refined women are
wont upon his errors, barely hinting that he
was changed ; but he declared he was not;
that he loved her as devotedly as ever but
was unwilling to live a straight-laced, puri
tanic life ; and that if he was becoming more
independent and more a man of the world,
it was an advantage, not a misfortune.
So affairs proceeded, until Helen’s father
forbade the marriage at any time, and, final
ly, denied Paul his house and all further ac
quaintance with his daughter. Very little
this troubled Paul, who vowed the old, “ven
erable individual always was an old fogy
and bore, fit for nothing but to have pretty
daughters and say long prayers.” Helen,
true to her sex, loved him better than ever
in the midst of his transgression and unknown
to her parent, often met Paul clandestine
ly and besought him, with supplications and
tears, to “turn from the error of his ways,”
which he finally promised to do, but did not
and rarely thought of, out of her presence.
Some weeks ago, when the religious re
vival began, and the prayer meetings were
organized, Helen made another formidable
assault upon her lover’s bad habits and
growing dissipation, and besought him, if he
entertained for her any part of the affection
he professed, to attend at least one of them,
telling him that, she had been praying for
him most devotedly, feeling that her orisons
would be answered. Paul promised to go,
touched by his mistress’ devotion, and when
he arose much earlier than usual one morn
ing, after a long night at cards, and enter
ing the church, saw Helen on her knees, so
pure, so beautiful, so full of faith, he was
melted, and before the end of the week was
praying at her side. He has since taken a
most active part in the prayer meetings, ha
ving forsaken his dissipated companions and
reformed altogether, and is now regarded as
one of the most exemplary young men in the
city.
Paul’s parents are rejoiced at his conver
sion and Helen is delighted, feeling certain
that her prayers and the goodness of God
have wrought the blessed change, and is as
happy as a young heart full of love, and trust
and gratitude can be.
Paul and Helen are soon to be wedded.—
Her father, believing it impossible for his fu
ture son-in-law to relapse into his old habits
has named the marriage day, when twogen
tleand refined natures, that were always har
monious, will not be less so because they
have common faith in the eternal duration
of their love and their perfect hereafter.—
Cincinnati Enquirer.
Speech of lion. R. P. Trippe,
OF GEORGIA.
In the House of Representatives , on the
admission of Kansas, March 31, 1758.
The House being in the Committee of
the Whole, on the state of the Union—
Mr. Trippe said :
Mr. Chairman: If we have grateful
hearts, we ought all to be willing to ren
der our thanks to the Giver of all good,
for the promise before us, that this “harp
harp of a thousand strings,” which has
so long given out discordant music, may
at last be broken forever. It has been
tuned so long by demagogues and fanat
ics, to harsh and factious strains, as to
almost cause us to forget those nobler
anthems, which in former times swelled
the national heart and gladdened the pa
triot’s bosom. And would, sir, it were
vouchsafed to us, before this vile instru
ment is cast away forever, to be used, if
possible, for viler purposes than those to
which it has hitherto been appropriated,
that some mighty hand, nerved by truth
and virtue, might sweep across its strings
and, perchance, strike from its snapping
cords some melody which they have not,
hitherto known, though it should serve
no other end than to revive the memory
of the harmonies of the past, and to re
mind us that we were once brethren, and
could politically worship together, ac
knowledging “one Lord, one faith, and
one baptism.” But, sir, I fear that the
hand of that minstrel lies cold forever;
and, in looking over this broad land,
wherever I cast my eyes, 1 see nothing
but his tomb.
Mr. Chairmau, this Kansas question,
this slavery question, has been the foot
ball of party and faction long enough—
used by Cordelier and Jacobin until our
country has been erected into one vast
revolutionary tribunal, before which ev
ery demagogue and fanatic is dragging, as
a prosecuting Fouquier Tinville, every
conservative ; and, with his “moral proofs
of guilt,” is dismissing him thence to the
conciergerie and the guillotine, to be
counted as another in the great holocaust
of viotiaio that, have already fallen under
its murderous axe. It is time for peace.
It is tune that the voice of patriotism
was once more heard in the land; and
it is time, sir, that the fanatics and dem
agogues upon this great question should
die, and die the death that knows no res
urrection. Would that T possessed the
power of acting the executioner upon
the great culprits!
Mr. Chairman, my colleague [Mr Hill]
upon the floor of the House, the other
day, expressed a sentiment which I have
privately and publicly expressed on all
occasions; I have done it before my own
constituency at home; I have done it in
private conversation to those with whom
l differ as far as from pole to pole; and
it is this : that slavery is not a question
for discussion here. If it is right, then
one portion of the country has the right;
if it is wrong, then one portion suffers
that wrong; and he who stands upon this
floor, in the face of his countrymen and
the world, and abuses and slanders the
people of one section, because they have
an institution which he does not approve,
and to which they have a clear constitu
tional right, is unworthy his seat here,
unworthy of his constituency, and un
worthy of the country that protects him.
The question of slavery, I repeat, Mr.
Chairman, is not a debatable question
proper for these Halls, and I will not en
ter upon it. When the effort is made,
I plead to the jurisdiction, and will come
up to all the requisites of such a plea by
showing where the true jurisdiction is,
to wit: in the people to be effected by it;
and if you will still claim to pronounce
judgment, I, for one, would pronounce
that judgement as coram nonjudice and
void, and a tyranous assumption of pow
er over the rights of those who have
the right and the power to determine for
themselves.
Mr. Chairman, In dismissing this point,
and coming to the great one now absorb
ing all others, I beg leave to say, that
when any man declares that one portion
of this Confederacy could, would, or
ought to be subjugated by another por
tion, and held as a subject province or
colony, and that, too, because it refuses
to be deprived of its most sacred rights,
he utters a sentiment which involves a
libel upon American history and Anglo
Saxon blood, and is as credulous as he
who is spoken of in Holy Writ, who
“believed a lie that he might be damned.”
Mr. Chairman, I shall vote for the ad
mission of Kansas under the Lecomptou
Constitution. The question is put with
a great deal of ingenuity and force: will
you vote for the admission of a State
with a constitution, when a majority of
the people of that State are opposed to
that Constitution ? Sir, if that were the
sole point in this question, or if it con
stituted the real gist of the matter, I an
swer, emphatically, that I would not, and
l would contemn the man, as much as any
one, who would avow the naked princi
ple that he would be willing to force any
constitution or government upon an un
willing people. But I repudiate that as
being the test of my action or niy vote,
and think I can plainly demonstrate that
there are controlling circumstances sur
rounding this question, whtch materially
modify the aspect in which the opponents
present it, and comes as near as the point
can be reached of establishing this great
cry, that the will of the majority is about
being violated, and that a constitution,
odious to the majority, is about being
forced upon them.
Sir, I am unwilling to meet this mat
ter and argue it on the basis on which
the opponents of the admission of Kan
sas put it, to wit: that there is a major
ity of the people of Kansas opposed to
this constitution. There may be some
difference of opinion on that point, but
I believe that the general current is, that
there is, in all probability, such a major
ity. I will go yet further, and concede,
far the sake of argument, the very larg-
wro. e.
est majority that has ever been claimed.
Some gentlemen, on this floor, have said
that majority was ten thousand. That,
sir, was the full vote against the consti
tution on the 4th of January, without de
ducting any that were cast in its favor
on the 21st of December. I see, sir, by
by the dissent indicated by several gen
tlemen on that side, that they do not
claim this majority. Very well; how,
then, stands the numb>-r> according to
their estimates ? Six Ihousaud on the
21st of December in favor of the consti
tution ; of this they alledge, as fraudu
lent, twenty-seven hundred—leaving thir
ty-three hundred legitimate friends. For
the sake of the argument, which I make,
grant it. On the 4th of January the
opponents of this constitution, they say,
polled ten thousand votes, making six
thousand seven hundred majority against
it. Yes, sir, these are the figures accord
ing to their own showing—that out of
an aggregate vote of the two elections,
together, of thirteen thousand three hun
dred, they have a majority of six thou
sand seven huudred, or more than three
to one. And it has been pretty strong
ly asserted that the proportion is still
greater. But certainly, sir, the above
is sufficient to satisfy the most inordi
nate ambition on the other side, in the
way of figures.
Here, then, Mr. Chairman, according
to the claim of gentlemen of the other
side, is a question which not only pre
sents a state of matters that on its face
would be totally inexplicable, but which,
in reality, presents strange and sugges
tive portents, the true solution of which
would not be favorable to this great ma
jority in this distant Territory; and
which, if fully explained, might reduce
their loud cry about fraud and violated
rights, into a puny whine, and that, too,
affected, because they did not get what,
in reality, they did not want —a final
settlement of this vexed question.
What, sir, is thfs case? A history
may be written upon it, to give its full
details, buts will state it briefly. Four
years ago, by the legislation of Congress,
by the construction given to that legis
lation, and by the excitement produced
by it, the peaoe of the country, if not
the existence of the Union itself, seemed
to rest upon the result of a struggle that
was gotten up. whether slavery should
or should not be established in a certain
Territory of this tJuiou, when it formed
a State Constitution. It was a matter
that should have been determined pea
ceably and quietly, had patriotism gov
erned, but the fanatic and factionist did
not so intend. Every means was re
sorted to, and the very policy adopted
that produced furor and excitement
amongst the people. Parties were over
thrown ; anew and great one, great in
strength and numbers, has sprung up,
which has about taken possession of one
half the country. The armies of Gog
and Magog seemed to be turned loose.
The world stood on tiptoe to watch the
contest whether Kansas should be a free
or a slave State. So high and furious
waxed the struggle, that it threatened
civil war, and caused the patriot to ask
the question, where will all this end ?
and caused the stoutest to fear that his
own loved Union might be involved in
the result.
Mr. Chairman, in the midst of this
confusion and danger, the very identical
question that had gotten us all up, was
in June last, to be determined by the
people of that Territory. An elec
tion was then to be held for delegates to
a convention, which body should frame
the organic law’of anew and sovereign
State, and which had sole jurisdiction
over the matter and could forever settle
it. A judgment that should have been
final, at least until that very people
would have wished to open it, as they
might have done, when a State was
sought to be pronounced. All parties
were summoned to the trial. Ample se
curity and fairness were guaranteed, and
the prayers of all true patriots were
rendered, that a settlement might be se
cured which would give peace to a dis
tracted country.
But what is the result? After the
trial has gone through and the verdict
pronounced, one party is loudly protest
ing, and claiming that an overwhelming
majority, a majority of more than six
thousand, is against the verdict. Asa
judge, who is to determine on this im
peachment of this verdict, I demand to
know how it is, if there is the great ma
jority you claim, that such a verdict was
rendered.
The answer, Mr. Chairman, to this ques
tion is two-fold. First, they 3ay an unfair
registry was made ; that a large number of
legal voters in several counties were refused
a registry, and hence could not vote. I will
not stop here to go fully into the merits of
this reply as to t he facts, but will say that
the evidenoe is clear and satisfactory that a
large number of those who were not regis
tered refused to be registered, and that some
of the disfranchised counties expelled the of
ficers who were sent to make a registry.—
But take the facts as claimed, and you can
not make out by the greatest count that you
can in reason reach, more than some thou
sand votes in those disfranchised counties.—
Granting, then, that these thousand voters
were illegally deprived of a hearing, and
there would still have been five tfiousad sev
en hundred majority, according to the oppo
sition. Why did these not vote ? Why
did they not, when power was in their reach
legally, stretch out their hands and grasp it?
Why did they not at onee determine this
vexed question according to the will of such
a huge majority, and give peace to the coun
try 7
Sir, upon my view of the answer to this
I rest my action, and am content that it
should determine the character of that action
whether it is just or unjust to those who
make the plea. It is said by that people,
and by their strongest advocate there, that
they knew they could not get justice, and there
fore would not come to tnal; that they
knew fraud would be practiced, and right
denied.
Mr. Chairman, it is but a poor plea that
the suitor fbr justice would set up as a rea
that he hnouee wrong wtt)