Newspaper Page Text
vox*, a.
THE GEORGtA GITIZEN
F r ‘lay n min**) H.OO prrnnnnm & a<l
l" ’ ‘ f paid within three month*, or •■'<.oo If not paid
M the rejr'hu- cluujre will be One Dollar i
„o..lr(dv,.rdt or U**, for the first inser
'"’ “j i-'n- iY-.!f r eeeh subsequent insertion. 411 ad
*'cJtr not -pacified a* to time, will be fubttsbeii until
i'*e<iccordln*iy. A literal discount allowed
5 OTwh Bivertwe be the'year.
>oiicea of aver ten linet, will be charged at the
2 ,.'..vineiiu f can didate* for office to be paid for at
Hm.- when in!je rted.
- imrin-ment’ made with county officer*. Dnigjosta,
jirf .-erv Merchant*. and otbm, who may wish to make
~ i r j and \earoe*. by Executor*, Admlnistra
** ar" are required by law to be advertised in a
” f, ~ty days previous to the day of sale,
r- LLvl must be held on the first Tuesday in the month.
~w the hours of too I“the forenoon and three in the af
.,; t the Court-house In the county In which the prcp
us 0 f Personal Property must be adrertlaed In like
feftT days.
S to Debtor* and Creditor* of an Estate must be
. syphcstion will be made to the Ordinary for
V ‘ Lsnisafi Xegroe*, must be published weekly for
* for Letter* of Administration, thirty- days; for •
’ ■'*” frf.n, a ‘.ministration, monthly. six months ; for |
; *1 *’ ‘ froo, OmrH maUp, weekly, forty days.
f„ r FtneMns of Mortenees. monthly, four
*J!T*VirTS i lost papers, for the (tall space of three |
’ .tie-from executor* or administrator*
-r bond nas been (riven by the deceased, the full space of ]
cr,,fe*d..nal and Ha-lnew* t arda will be inserted un- ,
■’ ‘r ’ head “ theWlowinf rate*, rix:
’ - r _„ per annum •5 00 ‘
• vvctaaT do Son :
N.iu!\ertis< T.eut ofthb ■. a-s will be admitted, nnless paid j
. :v .. v ■flora - ‘.mi than twelve months. Ad ‘
’ 1 e ehartred pro rata. Ad- I
. ” , -ts nut paidfurin adtmaee will be chanced at the j
r :| ar rata*. I
BMJBptmj
LANIER & ANDERSON,
attorneys at law,;
Macon, On.,
I) * h ••• -of the Macon Circuit, and In j
” - ‘ ‘ cot. r. Monr. e i;,il .1 jnes ; also in the ,
Fdtlrnt Courts M SamDAh. !
lANTTK A AXOERSOX have also recently become the !
itn/M /the following In *nrance Companies :
E A! (jl'.'TA INSURANCE ANl> BANKING COM
PA.VVofwhich W. M. D'Antimac is President, and C. K. j
W tie ALABAMA FIRB AND MARINE INSTTR- j
an m’OMPANY, Monteomery. of which T. U. Watts is
.and A. Williams 1* Secretary,
ri-t “sxsand risks on slaves taken at usual rates.
P* -tt
BE. H. A. METTAUEH,
HAYIMr spent a portion of three successive years in
this city, during which time he has limited hit
?*.-cce almost exclusively to Surgery, now respectfully
?-*• Sijeenrices to the citixen* of Macon and iurround
:j istry, in all the brunches of his profession. Offlce
• :"!South East Corner of Sd and Cherry streets, over
Hr, Asher Ayre*’ new Grocery Store.
wl7—tf
0. B, RICE,
*aIER AND REPAIRER
Os PIANO FORTES,
j ? esiucall; luMtoim *uW” .„mJ
y eft*t Mrssr*. Virgin's and at E. J. Johnston A Cos.
■ otS—tf ___
BROWN’sJfHOTE l,
Opposite the Passenger Depot,
h nc:TA R .-m •
E. E. BROWN, Proprietor,
|y ‘leal* ready on the arriTa.’ of every Train.
aprl—tf
L IT. WHITTLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
MACON, GA.
,r “i “ J x < Concert Gall, over Payne’s Drugstore.
anl'—ly
J. R. DAVIS,”
Land Broker. Collector &. General Agf't.
Barttss attended to In any county in this State.
Olte.-oraer Jackson and Ellis Btreet, Augusta, Ga.
■-•T’.-tf
LOCHRANE & LAMAR,
Attorneys at 3L<a,w,
MACON, OA.
Office by the Mechanic’! Bank.
U’TK’E H'trßS fr-.m 8t013A.M„3 to JP. Si. and also
■J® Tto 10 p. M.
- r unties of the Siacon Circuit and In
j M -rroe and Columbia, and in the Su
A. IOCHRAXE. JOHN LAMAR.
SPEER & HUNTER,
■ attorneys AT LAW,
Macon, Ga.,
9d Imacaltr Blork, Corner of Cherry
1 Street and Cotton Avonoe.
•h and partners in the practice cf Law in
-■ .. tiei o'the Macon ar.d aiijolnlr.g tlrcuita, and
|K >Ut. hy -pecial c ntract—also, will attend
|B ‘ lurts at Savannah and Marietta.
■ ALEX. M. SPEER,
■ SAMI'EL HUNTER.
THE LIVER
15TIGORATOR!
prepared by dr. saxyord,
ENTIRELY FROM GUMS,
”' c Purgative and Liver Medicines now before 1
*•**“ Cathartic, easier, milder, and
7 . ?* c **7 ‘tber medicine known. It is not on-
I. ..."*>*f liver remedy, acting first on the Liver I
a~ and •..aner. then .m the Stomach ar.d bowel* to
t._ ’■utter, thus accomplishing two purpose* elfec
wnt any of the painful feelings experienced in the
i “ ■** fflo* Cathartic*. It strengthens the svsiem at
•• .ft at n purge* it; and when taken daily in tnod-
Cr, *'“ a ’ w — **ngthin and build it up with unnaual rap
• ‘
l “dcri t, aj perform* its function* well,
i “ *gi rally developed. The atom
1 ten demon the healthy actiou
the bowels are at fault, and
;vri . r "■’:! mm iconaeoueno* of one organ—
v.. . p’-'-g eased! “to do it* duty. For the dia-
the proprietor* ha* made It
■ . rvr.ee of, more than twenty years, to
with to counteract the many
*.- i ““ :s T t ßdyl is at last found, any person
.. ;LI\E R’ am COMPLAIXT, In any fiU
• •* ■ > Wr , tie. <oid conviction is Certain.
, Vc sI M rm faaotbidor bad matter from
■- >’*, w ;thcir place a healthy flow of
a,-h. causing food to digest
-- ■■ ULUOD. (riving tone and
■ h chit. r. v. remorirg the cause of
item cure.
’ £RPrA-’ are cured. AND. WIIAT IS
r. iXT! RaT l >r ’ Pby the occnriomd uae of the
* * - *?f _ suffldent to relieve the stom
i • “ from rising and souring,
lint before. retiring, prevent* SIGHT
1 ‘ o f! ta *‘- n * ? *** night, loosen* the bowels
r rrvaxxss.
“Wt after eadi KB meal will cure DYSPKP- ;
|**DAChS: I*™** aiWiy * **• j
• f-r fe. male obstruction* removes
-d |makes a perfect cure.
a, e- why reliev.s CHOLIC, while
hja • 4 ™ ,s a sure cure for CHOL
ts -. ; -P’e- ventative of CHOLERA.
, ‘ ‘ e f_ ‘neededto throw out of the
lr _ cine after a long slcknen*.
■r rAUKDICS remove* all
..<• skin.
->t , •-f • l;u,-before eating give* vig- 1
i ‘• a s food digest w*U.
3 >’res CHRONIC IHAR 1
I while STTMM EH and
sfa almost to the first dote. |
. ‘-i ‘ -.re. tw (attacks caused by WORMS
. . - ‘-tnosur- r er, safer, er s[s;edier remedy
never m
’ tj “ “*** c-areg mRIipSY, by exciting the
* J “ r i in re r.emending thi* medicine
1 ti- VEKANDAOUEjCHUJ.
- .11 ‘ lU’ rs a BILLIOUS TYPE.-
p a ’ rjr are wUling tc
!■* *''•“ their unaiiliuous eati
* ,n, lmouth with the In-.igora
lowth,.r
7f Liv ER TNVIGORATOR
MEDICAL DISCOVERY, and is daily
* ‘ i *’" J Kteat to believe. It cure* a* if by
,'’o> ‘ l< “'’ soinp hcffdt. and seldom more
, r -i> 10 ‘-ure ai.v kind of LIVER Com
i <.*_(■ * , *-*'o* or Dulpepma to a oommon
“wLcnare the result o* a DISEASED LIV
RIC * ° Ki DOLLAR per BOTTLE.
SAXFORD Sc CO., Proprietors,
545 Broadway, Itew York.
• ; ’ i| olosa l° Agouts :
‘V* : T Dvott A Sot-s, Philad. t
! ■’ Hvk Boston : 11. H. Hay A 00-Port laj. J;
l^ff'; Qaylotd A Hammoi.d, Cleveland;
u .
3vP***£k*i S- S. Hance, Baltimore.-
, , Dt 'hwMU- lioid W bowsaw Mad Rwdl by
’ * *d EM LIV. HCHT A oo^
AifttlUttg*
For the Georj/ia Citizen.
Despair.
1 wa’ked beneath the moc n-b f-itr.iii bright
Nor thought to hear on such a night.
Complaint *o sad, ‘or where the light
Shone down upon the river still.
A maiden sat, ail crushed by ill,
‘V hose moaning* thus the air did fill.
Mother ! why hear’st thou not my call 9
• *“, mother 1 save me or I fall;
My dream* of blls- are perished all.
Oh could thy bosom hide my face.
To die It were re sweet a place,
rhy child would ask no other grace.
The earth was once so fair to me,
™ beauty now I would net see—
Ares pair would such strange contract be.
reomc hopes my heart still clustered round,
” nile at inv father’s burin. jrro^pS.
All these, alas! their gravr have'found.
A. phaiitoai Jong did I purpue,
O-nfrontlng me at everv t lew —
Oh, mother, there is not bit* true !
Through grief at last my soul gave way,
I X? madness I became a prey
without one siitnp6 of heavenly day.
JJo hand charity did dip
r*old water to my patching !*p—
Salt tears in sorrow 1 did Sp.
i Jcotthl not to the ffeturelook.
Thick darkness I could not broek—
Mv fate deemed written in the book,
i thought my heart wa strong and brave.
* would surely nave,
Het I!.-*! there corner the o’*rw heiming wave.
Oh, take my hjind, ’tin growing cold.
And lead cie to that hfaeed world.
Where we diall want no gold, no gold.
K*e bury me r ut of thy sight.
When dav is like the darkest night—
For me there is no dawning light.
TTie stream flowed on, all faithfully
The maden ga/eu with fixe*! eye
tm sight iuvisit ie to me.
up, look up, a sweet voice said,
. And upward looked the tearful maid
To where the rainitowV arcu was stayed.
The bow of (’hrist’s dear love was there
It hastened down from star to star
And circled round the girt tfar.
I < ’aim radiau< > e o’er her brow was *hed,
Sudden the dread heart-sickness fled,
, And peace and trust shone out in stead.
The maid* n who had here to tie.
< 5 * !^l ‘ to live, not feared to die—
Found rest at last—love clo>ed her eye.
For the Georgia Citizen.
C uttiugx for the llditor s (lianlrn
A Lover pleading nilh hi. MBatrew over a basket or
Fruit*.
Sweet Clara dear, my own true love,
The apple of my eye ;
HI never peach to your paw-paw ,
• If you will but reply.
And from those cherry lips let fall,
The date I long to hear.
When you aDd I can run away.
And make a happy pear.
Then happy in our forest home
Far lrorn the city’s din,
On ambrosial sweets we’ll live
And sip the nectar in.
O, speak out now tuy sugar phim,
When will you bid me hope ?
She modestly hung down her head,
And murmur’d “ can t elope 1”
“ Soup, if you please waiter !” I asked
as I seated myself at the dinner table of
;a “ first rate’’ hotel. “ Yes’m; we don’t
■ has soup for dis table main; dis is de
j traveler s table!” Avery comprehen
| sive reply. I thought, as I glanced with
l longing eves over at the table opposite,
which was bountifully supplied with a
choice collection of various dainties, to
tempt the epicurean tastes of tlie regu
lar boarders, and thought as 1 threw de
preciatory looks all up and down the
“ travelers table,’” that the proprietor did
not expect people to travel with any
thing like delicate palates. Travelers
should accommodate their appetites to
suit the fare. What if the waffles are
burned to a crisp, the cofFte too weak to
run down your throat, and the butter old
enough to talk! You are not expected
to eat, unless you wish ; and if you think
you can’t force that coffee down, don’t at
tempt to try, for you will have to pay
fifty cents foi the mere priviledge of try
ing. If you get nothing to eat, you al
ways get plenty of time to eat it in,
whereas, if the table is laden with deli
cious viands and your mouth begins to
water at the very mention of something
you can relish, the shrill sound of the
engine whistle startles and warns you,
train is ready to start, and you have just
time enough to pay your bill, for what
you did’nt eat, and leave! Such is the
railway of life.
Diamonds are bright and beautiful,
stars are bright and more beautiful, but
the human eye is brightest and most
beautiful. There is nothing in the wide
world half so charming and lovely as a
lustrous, soul-beaming eye, whether black,
brown or hazel, blue, green or grey !
whether it twinkles with mischief, spar
kles with pleasure, flashes with excite
ment, or pales with sorrow. With the
first we are fascinated, with the second
enchanted—while the third commands
our admiration, the last calls forth our
pity, and enlists our warmest sympa
thies ! A calm, gentle eye in pensive re
pose invites our confidence, and we feel
as if we could open our hearts to its
friendly acd appreciating gaze. From
the vacant stare of the maniac we turn
with a feeling of pain. The light of
reason has fled, and Nature’s jewel has
lost its lustre and become dimmed.
Reader, have your ever gazed down
, into the depths of a clear, soft eye and
read therein the inexpressible language
|of love ? But this is a delicate question.
I Let it pass. I well remember one of my
wildest wishes in childhood was to have
the Evening Star for a breast-pin, and
a string of blue and black eyes for a
necklace.
And O, 1 have seen eyes
So darkly beautiful, so deeply blue!”
I And then again
“ Kyes like the starlight, of the soft midnight
Se deeply beautiful, so darkly bright.”
Mollie Myrtle.
A Legi-lativk Prayer.—The following
I laconic prayer was delivered in the lowa
Ilouse of Representatives the other morning,
j by Rev. Mr. Shine:
Great God! Bless the young tmd grow
, ing State of lowa, her Senators and Repre
; sentatives, her Governor and ibtaie officers!
1 Give us a sound currency, pure water and
mdefrlad religion, for Chjn*t * Amen,
For the Georgia Citizen.
The Star SpaotrUd Manner.
BY H. A. CAHE.
’ll* the f!a< of the h,*ve.
Oh ! loti* may it wave,
Lon*, long niav it be
The tag of the brave.
Haste, hasten the day.
Wide over the world.
When tee, freemen may
Our standard unfurl.
Our Washington’s flag,
Unsullied shall be,
Ne’r, ne’r Khali it lag.
On the land, on the sea.
Wave on, oh! wave on.
It tells me of Tell,
Bolivar, Washington,
Hozarls, Lafayette.
The patriot’* fame
Forever will be.
An uudymg flame
In the hearts of the free.
In Union we boas’.
Os “a golden strand,”
Os “a rock bound coast,”
Os “a sunny land.”
O’er Columbia’s land
The “Stars and Stripes” wave.
O’er a tri-glorious band—
The true, free hearted brave.
A Remarkable Dream.
Some years ago a young man was
hired by a green grocer, on the corner of
who lives in the northern suburbs of the
city, and owns a little house In which she
lives. She has supported herself since
the death of her husband, (who deceased
some years ago,) by making lace and
musline, and by crimping for one or two
undertakers.
The young man had not been long in
this situation before he discovered that
his employer’s daughter was too pretty
for his peace. Her father had acquired
a large property in his business, and it
was well known in the family that he
would never consent to her marrying a
poor man.
James S suited him vary well as
clerk, but as a son-in-law he would not
have the slightest patience with him.—
The young man wished very much to
keep his place, for the double purpose
of being near his charmer and maintaining
himself, and he was therefore very care
ful and miserable. He was comforted
at length, somewhat, by finding that the
girl was as unhappy as himself. A
uwu; plans were canvassed by the
young couple for getting the father’s
consent; but one was rejected after an
other. The poor clerk became very
much cast down, and his health suffered
so much that his mother feared that he
was gone into consumption.
James S one night retired to bed
in a very disheartened state, not having
slept at all for three nights. He soon
fell asleep and dreamed that he went
home to see his mother, and that she
asked him to go into the cellar to get
himself a piece of pie. He thought that
he went down and opened the little grey
safe, and a stone in the wall jutted out
so that he could not put back the safe
cover as formerly. He tried to push
back the stone, and not being able, he
pulled it out and pitched it away ; as
he did so a saucepan with the handle
broken off quite short, met his sight in
the cavity of the wall. He pulled it
out, opened it, and found it was full of
gold. A steel spectacle case lay on the
top of the money, but he did not open it.
lie was so much agitated that he awoke.
He lay awake some time, wishing there
were witches, or farics, as in old times,
and then fell asleep and dreamed over
again precisely the same as before! He
awoke the second time, bathed in perspi
ration, and thought it was very strange
he would dream the same thing twice.
Strange as it seems, he soon composed
himself to sleep, and the third time he
dreamed this identical dream. On awak
ing, the sun was streaming in at his win
dow. He arose and dressed himself in
haste, and much agitated, went to his
employer and told him that he was oblig
ed to go home and attend to some busi
ness.
Janies took a Yorkville stage, and
soon bade his mother good morning.—
His mother, who is an early riser, had
breakfasted already. “James,” said she,
“you will find a squash pie and some
cheese down iu the cellar.” Her son
ti enabled and his heart beat quickly as
he went down stairs. He raised the lid of
the safe, and the stone jutted out just as
he had dreamed. He tried to push it
back, and then pulled it out, and there
was the saucepan with the short handle.
He opened it almost breathless with
hope and fear. It was full of gold, not
of old-fashioned pieces, but good Amer
ican eagles, halves and quarters.
He shut the saucepan quickly, and
put in a small stone to conceal it, and
went up stairs very quietly, with a pie
in his hand. A thought had struck him.
He did not wish to trust his mother with
the secret.
“Mother,” said he, “you want a mus
line de lain dress for winter. Here are
four dollars to buy you one, and I wish
you to get it while I am at home, for I
would like to see it.”
His mother was greatly pleased with
the present of anew dress, and quite de
lighted that her son cared to see it. She
went down to the city at once to get her
dress.
During his mother’s absence, James
examined his treasure. The steel specta
cle case lay on the top just as he had
dreamed. He opened it, and found in
MACOIV. GA. JULY 30, 185a.
it a paper, which stated that the money
was the property of his uncle, who died
in Cuba some years ago. He requested
in the paper, that the money should be
given to his nephew, James S , when
he was twenty-one, if he (the uncle) did
not return. How he expected it was
going to be discovered does not appear,
though James’ mother had told him that
her brother had promised to write her,
but had not.
James took the saucepan, wrapped it
in a paper, and when his mother return
ed he gave her a half eagle, and with his
fortune under his arm, and a quiet ex
terior, took a Yorkville omnibus home.
When in his own room he locked the
door and counted. He had $4,360.50.
It is said that James had given his
mother s’2oo; that he has become a part
ner in the business with his former em
ployer. and has obtained permission to
marry the daughter.
TII E CO(J 8 11\ 8 .
1 Tale for Fickle Husbands.
“ Emily, Emily, my darling, is it true ?
Say it again—only once again, Emily !”
Emily lifted up her face, with a soft
trimulous smile, as her hazle eyes an
swered the ardent questioning of her lov
er’s glance.
“ Yes, yes, Edward,” she replied and
the words were sweet to his eager ear.
“ Again, and again, Emily ! I could
hear you, say it, forever, my love !” said
the young man.
He bent his handsome head to kiss
the lips that had said, what no other lips
had ever said to him “ I love you.” But
his caress was given back with half tim
id, yet earnest tenderness, and his soft
blue eyes beamed with happy emotion.
It was Edward Vane’s first wooing, and
the pleasure he experienced was as rare
and delicious as it was novel; f>r to the
young lover declaring ms earliest ..t
tachment, is not the timid 4 yes,’ and the
kiss of her he loves, the sweetest thing
he has ever known ?
I nder the trees in the garden of the
old parsonage, they walked together in
the sunset, after this sweet confession—
walking side by side, Edward holding
Emily’s hand, and talking tenderly to
her as they went, with his warm heart
beaming in his handsome face, and Emi
ly listening silently, with a happiness
whose very silence manifested its depth;
and the sun sank lower, and the shadows
grew longer, as the pleasant moments
slipped away—golden moments to Ed
ward and Emily ; and finally, as the
twilight began to gather, they heard the
voice of Emily’s father, calling her from
his study.
They went back ; and now standing
for a single instant longer in the old
stone porch under the curtaining vines,
Edward drew Emily to his breast again,
and pressed his lips gently to her cheek.
“ A few moments, my darling, before
you go to him,” said Edward. “Let
me see him first. 1 must tell him ”
A happy thrill ran through Emily’s
heart. She laid her head quietly on her
lover’s bosom, and kissed softly the be
loved hand that held her own in a linger
ing clasp.
“ Yes, tell him,” she said with a blush,
and then loosing herself from his em
brace, she went away, while Edward
Vane sought her father’s study.
It was no new thing to the good old
pastor that Edward and his daughter
loved each other; he had seen it long
since—had known it peihaps before they
knew it themselves. Edward was not,
it may be, the husband her father would
have chosen for her ; aflectionate in his
disposition, with an ardent temperament,
but impulsive —changing—uncertain of
purpose —all this the old man had seen
him to be. But he himself had not many
years to live; they loved each other,
and it might be after all, for the best.—
At any rate he could not find it in his
heart to cross their love, and so his con
sent was given, and Emily and her lover
received his blessing.
And now the old parsonage seemed
another Eden, in whose garden dwelt
only happiness. But has not every Eden
its serpent 1 It came in dark, but beau
tiful and shining guise ; it came in the
shape of Emily’s lovely cousin Helena,
who, with her sweet, bewitching face,
glided in upon the happy lovers and
brought fascination with her.
It was not that Helena Wyndham,
with her beauty and her pride, cared for
Emily’s lover, that she left for awhile
the scoree of suitors at whose expense
she had been amusing herself, coquetting
with them all by turns, and giviug hope
to none. But Edward ivas handsome,
and winning, and elegant; and, above
all, he had never knelt at her shrine —
the insatiable heart hunter! And so,
for the eclat of anew conquest, she came
daily over from her father’s magnificent
estate to Hadley parsonage, to win away
with her bewitching smile, the heart of
her cousin’s lover.
Emily saw her, riding lightly along
on her white steed, with her dark locks
braided, and her snowy plume waving
to the breeze, her red lips smiling, and
her dark eyes beaming with the delight
of anticipated triumph. Emily, sitting
with her father and her lover in the old
parsonage study, saw his brilliant cous
in, and thought, 44 How lovely Helena
is!” But the thought was not mingled
with envy. She has won a heart with
out Helena’s fascinations ; and her soft
cheek colored, and her clear hazel eyes
beamed with innocent happiness as she
looked at her lover.
A-moment more and the quiet of that
happy little circle was broken by the
appearance of this beautiful enchantress
cousin. Emily and her father both knew
Helena's hollow heart, yet they gave her
, kindly greeting. She was their kin.—
: They never dreamed with what intent
she had come. They, in their charity
for others, could not conceive that she
had an idea of evil regarding them.
But Helena Wyndham laughed at
their charity. She did not scruple to
abuse it when it served her purpose so
to do; and she glided in, in her elegant
attire, with her soft yet brilliant beauty,
her captivating manner, her keen, deli
cate, light-flashing wit, and placed her
self in bewildering, dazzling contrast to
her fair, simple, unworldly, and yet no
ble cousin Emily. It was not the first
time Edward had seen her; but he had
never viewed her so nearly, never spo
ken to her before this evening. Helena
took care that his earliest impression of
her should be only an agreeable one.
She wa peerless in her loveliness, her
grace, her mental gifts ; she would have
adorned a royal court. Edward was a
scholar and a gentleman, cultivated and
refined, and a passionate admirer of
beauty. It would have been a marvel if
one like him had restrained He* encWt
ments, fox she was the very spirit of
beauty.
44 How incomparable lovely !” was his
mental exclamation as she sat near him,
gayly and carelessly chatting with her
uncle and Emily, and now and then
turning her bright, yet softened glance
upon him, with some smiling word of re
mark, or of question, that drew him ere
long from silent admiration into animat
ed converse with the rest.
He did not mentally compare her with
Emily. He was not thinking of Emily
when he said to himself that the world
could contain no face more enchanting
than that of this charming guest; but
during the hour that Helena stayed he
experienced a pleasure, the nature of
which he could hardly have defined, had
he tried, and the depth of which he nev
er sought to fathom. He only knew
that he admired Miss Wyndham very
much.
And so the heartless beauty lingered
as long as it suited her, seeing plainly,
and with a secret delight, how Edward
Vane was attracted, until she was fully
satisfied with her first attempt, and bid
ding the party a graceful adieu, vanish
ed like some brilliant star, that, while
we are eagerly, delightedly watching it,
hides itself far behind the clouds. And
Emily never dreamed whose eyes that
star had dazzled.
When next she met her beautiful cou
sin, it was after service at the little vil
lage church, and as Emily lingered near
the door, awaiting her father, Helena,
in passing, slightly tapped the young
girl’s cheek with her gloved hand.
“ Tlow came you ever to attract so el
egant, so distingue a lover as Edward
Vane ?” she a-ked. “Do you know
that 1 am quite pleased with him J and
that is dangerous for you, you know. —
care, my pretty cousin, that I do notwin
him away from you. By the way, dear,
my brother Frederick has also become
acquainted with him, and, I believe cul
tivates his acquaintance most sedulously.
At any rate he has invited him to spend
a day or two with us this week. You
can afford to lose him for that time —
can’t you, Emily dear ?”
Finishing her heartless speech with a
soft laugh and a kiss on her cousin’s
lips, she passed on to her carriage ; and
looked after her an instant, with
a sudden tremor at her heart, a startled
pallor overspreading her cheeks, in a low,
half bitter tone “ Helena, Helena ! was
that wbat you came for !”
Emily only said to Edward when he
came again, * Do you know Frederick
Wyndham, Edward?’
‘ Yes, Emily—l was iutroduced to
him not long ago—did I not mention it ?
I am forgetful of every thing but you,
my darling V he added, with a beaming
Then he continued, ‘ Y e 9, and
only yesterday, he made me half prom
ise to come and pass a day or two with
him at his father’s. I do not know
whether I shall go, though he is very ur
gent. He seems to like me.’
A dull pain went through Emily’s
heart but she would say nothing, nor let
him suspect what she felt.
‘Will he go?’ she asked, mentally ;
and with slow and unhappy suspense she
waited to see.
Edward did go. If he had foreseen
the result, he might have been wiser ;
but with him, as is the case with many
others, wisdom was purchased with
experience.
During the days that he spent with
Frederick Wyndham he was thrown fre
quently into the society of the beautiful
Helena; their acquaintance matured,
and his admiration grew deeper with eve
ry hour that passed revealing some new
beauty, some new grace in the variable,
wayward, yet ever enchanting Helena.
When Emily met him again she long
ed to ask him, 4 Do you not like my
beautiful cousin ?’ But she refrained.
4 1 will not mock myself,’ she thought;
4 how can he help liking—nay even, lov.
ing her.
It was not Edward’s last visit at his
friends. Helena chose to win him, and
there was little resistance made. Fred
erick was a pleasant friend, and Edward
Vane, neglectling to question his own
heart too closely, said that it was because
of this that he liked so well to go there.
But he always saw Helena. They
played and sang together—together ram
bled over the fine grounds around the
mansion, and read from the same book.
And Helena’s voice had wondrous sweet
ness in its tones, and the gentle glance
of her dark eyes, in her subdued
moments, was one of the most en
chanting softness. And Edward lis
tened to the sweet voice, and met the
soft glance of the lovely dark eves,
yielding each day more completely to
their delicious fascination, until his heart
was won quite away from Emily.
Yes—he loved Helena ; he acknowl
edged it at last to himself; and now,
unabi to rcoiat Her influcUGC, &Ud <3r6B.d
-ing to meet Emily’s sight, he went no
more to Hadly parsonage.
Hegavehimself up now to this new hap
piness ; it was strange, too, how bitter
he found it! For whenever he sat by
Helena’s side, and looked into the beau
tiful depths of those dark eyes, the
thought of his neglected love rose up. —
He seemed to see Emily’s sweet pure
face before him, pale and sad. Self re
proach wore upon him —but he hated to
listen to it; and, finally, braving and de
fying it, in very desperation, he declar
ed his love to Helena Wyndham. It
was a moment of triumph for which she
had waited and watched with suspense
and impatience. Despite herself, a blush
of pleasure rose to her cheek, even while
she assumed a little air of mingled an
noyance and regret.
4 My dear Mr. Yane!’ she said, shak
ing her beautiful head— 4 how sorry 1
am that this has happened—that you
have imagined—that you have mistaken
—I have been engaged to marry Mr.
Corruthers since last week !’
Edward Vane saw the dupe—the play
thing he had been. Incensed almost be
yond endurance, he left the scene of in
fatuation, of his blind folly, for the last
time.
It was bitter repentance for his fault
that led him back to Hadley parsonage
to seek forgiveness and reconciliation from
Emily.
‘ Emily, I have been mad—insane, I
believe,’ he said. 4 1 have forsaken your
sweet face for a will-o’-the-wisp that has
led me to wretchedness, Emily ; for the
sake of our old love, will you forgive
me !*
For the sake of our old love—yes,’
answered Emily, extending her hand to
him. She was quite pale, but there was
no trace of unhappiness in her calm, fair
countenance. 4 Yes, the pain you have
caused me I will not remember; but the
pain is over now, and the love has died
out with it, Edward.’
‘ Emily, I deserve it,’ he uttered, with
aery of anguish, ‘ I deserve it! But
oh ! do not say it, Emily ! May I not
hope ’
‘ No—there is no hope,’ she replied
gently, but firmly. ‘ I forgive the pain
you have given me, but I dare not risk
that pain again. We can never be any
thing more than we are now to each oth
er.”
The words were sacred—they proved
true. He w T ent out from her presence
ashamed, and their paths never were the
same again.
The celebrated Doctor Sledge —
whose “face” was of the “hardest ’ metal—
was here recently and “hammered’ away
in excellent style to a crowd of anxious lis
teners whom he “riveted” during a long
“heatafter which he sold some of his cel
ebrated medicines, the effects of which have
proved most wonderful. His anti-diarrhoea
mixture stopped a negro from running off
His vermifuge destroyed all the eggs ot the
boll worm. His anti-fever pills reduced the
temperature of the air several degrees.
Hiß hair oil caused the hair to spring up
in a bald prairie. His medicines are wonder
ful and in no case, if properly administered,
wiil they fail to produce a “ground sweat” —
Brandon Rh
“Mother, Sing Jerusalem ”
The last words of * U'lurifLl boy who died In Boston * few
year* since.
A child lay in at room.
With pa.!id, waxen face ;
A lttle child, whose tide of life,
Had nearly run Its race.
ilo-t holv robe* the steels brought.
By holy spirit, given.
Ready to wrap the child In them,
Aud cam- him to heaven.
And shining wings, with clasp* of light.
Two shining wing they bore.
To fasten on ttic teraph child.
Soon as the strile was o’er.
Terchanc. their ts autv made him think
Os some harmonious wor<i.
That often from his mother’s Ups
The dying one had heard.
It might be. for he whl-pered low.
“Sing ruot er, sing.” aud smiled;
The ioue oue knelt bedde the couch—
“ What shall I sing m. child?”
“Jerusalem, my happy home,”
Tt e gasping ix.y replied.
And sadlv sweet the . lear note* rang
Upou the even tide
Jerusalem, my happy home.
Name ever dear to me 1
When shall my labors have an end
lu joy. an l peace, in thee ?’’
And on she sang, while breaking hearts
Best slow, uneq >al time—
She fe!t the passing o‘ the soul.
With that triumphant chime.
•‘OI w hen. thou city of m v God,
Shall 1 Uiy courts ascend ?”
They saw the shadow ot the grave
W Ith his sweet beauty blend.
“Why should I shrink at pain or woe,
Ur feel at do rth’s dismay ?’’
She ceased—the angels bore the child
To realms of endless day.
• Wanted.
A young Man of Industry, Ability, Integ
rity, &c.
This meets one’s eye daily in the column
of “Wants, “and it is true as the Pentateuch.
Wanted ? Os course they are—always wan
ted. The market can never be overstocked
they always will be called for and never
quoted “dull,” or “no sale.”—Wanted for
thinkers ; wanted for workers; in the mart,
on the main, in the field, and in tke forest.
Tools are lying idle for want of a young
man ; a pen is waiting to be wielded ; a
tree to be felled ; a plow to be guided ; a
village to be founded ; a school to be in
structed.
They talk about staples and great staples.
Honest, industrious, able young men are
the great staple in this day of ours. Young
man, you are wanted, but not for a doctor.
No, nor a lawyer. There is enough of them
for this generation, and one or two to spare.
Don’t study a “profession,” unless it be the
professiou of brick-laying or farming, Or
some other manual profess’ons. Don’t use
tape il you can help it. It is honorable and
honest and all that, but then, perhaps, you
can do better. Os all thipgs, don’t rob the
women. It is their prerogative to handle
silks and laces, tape and thread. Put on
your hat like a man, don an aprou and go
out of doors. Get a good glow on your
cheek, the jewelry of toil on your brow, and
a good set of well-developed muscles. We
would go if we could, but then we were
young, longer ago than we like to think, and
you know when one’s “old, he can’t.”
Besides, if you become a doctor you’l have
to wait. “Bi cause you haven’t experience,”
3ays cn old practitioner; “because you
are too young,” say all women. If you are
a lawyer, and likely to rise they'll put a
weight on you, ala Swiss, to keep you un
der, or, if you make a good argument, some
old opponent, as gray as a rat will kick it
all over, by some taunt or other, because you
were not born in the year “one.” And so
it will go, until you grow tired and soured,
and wish you had been a tinker, perhaps
“an immortal” one, or anything but what
you are.
Bea farmer and your troubles are over or
rather they do not begin. Your own what
you stand on, “from the centre of the earth, ’
as they used to say “up to the sky,” you are
an independent as possible all day, and tired
nor weary at night, for there is a great dif
ference between those two words if only one
stops to think of it. The more neighbors
you have, and the better farmers they are,
the more and the better for you.
There is one thing more, young man.—
You are wanted. A young woman wants
you. Don’t forget her. No matter if you
are poor. Don’t wait to be rich. You need
a companion while you live, and not after
you have done living. Effort is life and ces
sation therefrom, a grand and gloomy “has
been.” So do not wait until your time is
all in the yesterdays ; if you are fit to be
married. Marry while you are young, and
struggle up together, lest in the years to
come, somebody shall advertise, ‘‘Young
men wanted,” and none to be had.— B. F.
Taylor.
A Story of real Life-
The Washington (Ohio) Register has such
a nice little romance about “a Dutch girl,
that we cannot suffer it to escape us—the
more because the Register affirms it to be
strictly true, and because it turns out happi
ly. The story might be worked up into a
pleasing volume :
Beauty and worth, unadorned, are far
more valuable than all the tinselled drapery
of earth. Not over ten miles from Wash
ington is a pretty country residence, where
a retired tiader and his wife live, with their
only son, in the enjoyment of wealth and
ease. We will call the gentleman Mr. Lan
den. Among the “help” in the house was
a German girl who possessed remarkable
beauty. There was an air ot superiority in
her manner and address; but the Landens al
ways treated her with hauteur. One pleasant
day last summer the old lady and gentleman
had gone to visit a friend, some miles dis
tant, but Frank, being busy at something,
did not accompany them. Soon after the
carriage was g >ne, Frank, heard the sound
of music ; he stole into the house, and peep
ed silently into the sitting room. There sat
Mary, (as we will call her) with the guitar,
which she played with skill. After execu
ting a brilliant piece, she glided into a sweet
French air, and then with a rich voice full
of pathos, sung one of the chansonetts of
Beranger. The youth was entranced, and,
when she concluded, he could not forbear
an exclamation of surprise and admiration.
WO. 19.
The girl turned hastily, when she saw the
young man at the door, whom she thought
was out with his parents ; she turned pale
with dismay, tottered a few steps, and fell
fainting on the sofa. Frank ran to her aid,
but was in a condition not much more ra
tional : he had something of the family prido
and was of a shy, retiring disposition.
Imagine the blushing, confused young
man, supporting with his arm the form of a
lovely girl in a fainting fit! Frank had nev
er before felt the power of beauty, but he
was not overwhelmed, and, before sprink
ling s jm•'* drop-* of water on her face, ho
took a hasty, thrilling, hesitating ki-s. That
kiss was fatul. Mary recovered from the
swo -n, but Frank could not escape the ef
fects of the kiss. Study, amusement, everv
thing was at a stand; he seemed to bo
walking in a dream, and buried in restless
thou lit. He would have treated the gill
with some attention, but nor a word not u
look could he win from her : she pursued
her occupations with her usual diligence,
and acted as if she had forgotten the guitar
scene. Seeing no other mean*, Frank one
day took advantage of the absenci of his
parents and c tndidly avowed his affections,
making honorable and frank proposals. We
have not space to describe the girl’s confu
sion, nor the avowal the eager lover won
from her of the existence of some very ten
der sentiments in her own narration of how
she came, with such acquirements, in such
a situation. Her father had been driven
from Austria for liberalism, and died poor
and broken hearted in New York. Mary
went to Cincinnati, and then came into the
country to hire out When all had been
explained, she insisted on the whole thing
being openly declared to Mr. and Mrs. Lan
d--n : she would be a party to no clandes
tine measures The disclosure was made ;
the parents became indignant, and Mary
was sent away. Months of despair ensued,
ffary would consent to no hidden corres
pondence. Frank’s health began to fail, and
the doctor to shake his head. The crisis
was irrisistible : Mary was sent for; Frank
cot well, and they are now a happy pair,
and Mary is the affectionate daughter-in-law
of a couple who think her the greatest bles
sing heaven ever sent them. Truly, “Low
liness is youug ambition’s Ladder.”
“fio. Kigsy Mama.”
How touching and original are the ideas
sometimes expressed by children ! Surely,
if “flowers are the alphabet of Angels by
which God writes his glory upon the hills
and in the valleys.” those little human flow
ers are God’s own alphabet, by which he
writes to ids creatures of whom and of what
“is the Kingdom of Heaven.'’ Quaint and
singular as beautiful are the trains of thought
to which the expressions of these petit cher
ubs give rise ; nay at times
“A (rrave jrrown man will si art to hear
The Strang’ words of a child.”
Aii expression of these quaint, infantile
ideas took place the other evening. A little
fellow of three summers whose mother
winged her way to the “better land” when
he was not seven months old, was sitting
upon the steps in the dusk of evening watch
ing the new moon serene and silvery, then
descending in the western heavens, com
menced, without a word’s being said in re
gard to his mother, throwing kisses with
his hand to the moon, sayiDg. “Go kissy
mama ?” What strange influence was that
which led his infantile musingsafar off to his
mother while gaz : ng at the beautiful orb of
night, and to connect them thus together ?
Was that mother in accordance with the phi
losophy of Swedenburg, through mystic stel
lar and lunar channels, then hovering near
her little darling and shedding upon him the
eentle and holy influence which drew his
yet uncontaminated thoughts towards ber-
S ilf ? Will it thus ever be nigh his guardi
an angel, panoplying him as with a heaven
ly shield from the storms of life? The
thought is certainly beautiful, and for aught
mortal knows to the contrary, may be true.
We can see nothing irrational in it If, as
our great epic poet says,
“Millions <>f spiritual creature* walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep,”
we can conceive of no combination of circum
stances in which a “spiritual being” would
be more likely to commune with an earthly
one, than in that wherein a mother has left
her prattling innocent to tread, without the
love and guardianship which a mother oaly
can bestow, comparatively alone the path
way of existence.
The great bard of nature, in a burst of su
blimity, exclaims: “W bat a piece of work
manship is man I How noble in reason !
how infinite in faculties ! in form and mo
ving. how express and admirable! in appre
hension, how like a God!” And yet we
doubt whether the mightiest achievements
of his matured intellect show his original
nature and divine origin so forcibly or so
clearly as do the spontaneous outgushings
of childhood, the mysterious communings of
nature with its author. There seems to be a
kind of inspiration witnessed at the begin
ning of life, ere evil has obtained ascendan
cy over its powers, and again near its ter
mination. when,
“The sunset of life elves us mystical lore,”
and nature naving been subjected to the fi
ery ordeal of trial, and triumphed, comes
again into communication with the spiritual
the beautiful and the true. — 2T. 0. Bulletin.
If you know something that will make a
brother’s heart glad, run and tell it; but if
it is smething that will only cause a sigh,
bottle it up; and be careful that the bottle
never gets broke.
Cherokee Circuit.— The Governor has
appointed James A.R. Hanks Solicitor Gen
erlaofthis Circuit, in place of J.O.Longstreet,
lately deceased.