Newspaper Page Text
voii. 9.
THE GEORGIA CITIZEN
every Friday morning it WJO per annum in
flf**® at the regular charge will be On* Dollar
> undred words or MM, tor the flrst lnser-
P *l*¥V centi tor each subsequent iaaertion. AU ad-
of candidatee for office to be paid tor at
?.liTm*nts *idr with county officers. Druggists,
-chants, and others, who may wish to make
tracts.
‘Si.^^’agatAJyg&iaßß
P? tv noun of tea in the forenoon and three in the af
jJJ”g mt Court-house In the county in which the prop-
of Personal Property must be advertised in like
“jtoSie uTlhSofs and Credltora of an Estate most be
* 4 miJto*tSt S*PP-,^Uon 5 *PP- ,^Uon •** m * d * 10 *&• Ordinary tor
Land and Negroea, must be published weekly for
~L for Letters of Administration, thirty days; tor
. ftotc Administration, monthly, nx months; tor
Si;; Jon from Guardianship, weekly, forty days.
h7,li for Foreclosing of Mortgagee, monthly, tour
, ’” establishing tat paper*, for the toll space of three
“SJ: or compelling title* from executors or administrators
, : ,'-eiW.d has been given by the deceased, the toU space of
ib-,,regional sod Businewa Cards will be inserted un
dittaftd! ai tk* following rates, vis:
for Fivelir.es, per annum, 8 6 00
do Seven Uses, do 800
do Ten line*. do 10 00
an advertisement of this claM will be admitted, unless paid
>.. I- tirnnce, nor for a less term than twelve months. Ad
ents of over ten lines will be charged pro rata. Ad
vetlsements not paid for In advance will be charged at the
reguisr riles. ‘
■SUM ill 818 tills
LA.VIER & ANDERSON.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Maoou, O-a.,
DSACTICI in the counties of the Macon Circuit, and in
X ‘ne Counties of Sumter, Monroe and Jones; also in the
fiderx. Courts at Savannah.
LANIER A ANDERSON have also recently become the
Arret* of the following Insurance Companies :
“HE AUGUSTA INSURANCE AND BANKING COM
PANY of which W. M. D’Antignac is President, and 0. F.
McCsy !* Secretary.
Asa the ALABAMA FIRE AND MARINE INSUR
ANCE COMPANY, Montgomery, of which T. H. Watts Is
President, and A. Williams is Secretary,
lire risks and risks on slaves taken at usual rates.
sPr 13—ts
DR. H. A. METTAUER, -
HAYING spent a portion of three successive years in
this city, during which time he has limited his
practice slnsest exclusively to Surgery, now respectfully
cftrs his services to the cltisens of Macon and snrround
tafesustry, In all the branches of his profession. Office
ss the South last Corner of 8d and Cherry streets, ovsr
Mr. Asher Ayres’ nsw Grocery Store.
WpDT—tf
0. BJUCE,~
TUNER AND iflNl REPAIRER
Or PIANO FORTBB,
IS Permanently located In Macon. fiV Names may
Is left at Messrs. Virgin's and at E. J. Johnston A 00.
novS—tf
BROWN’S jjj|H 0 T E L ,
Opposite the Passenger Depot,
E. E. BROWN, Proprietor,
|Meals ready on the srriva’ of every Train.
spr!9—tf
L N. WHITTLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
MAOON, GA.
OlfiCl next to Concert Hall .over Payne’s Drag Store.
aalO—ly
J. RD A VIS,
Land Broker, Collector 8l General Af’t.
laansss attended to In any county In this State.
ORcecorner Jackson and Kills Street, Augusta, Ga.
ssvl-tf
~ LOCHRANE & LAMAR,
Attorneys at Law,
MAOON, OAL.
Office by the Mechanic’* Bank.
QPFICE HOURS from BtoISA. MS to SP. M. and also
from 7 to 10 P. M. _
ill practice in all the Counties of the Maeon Circuit andUn
tie Couuie*of Jones, Monroe and Columbia, and in the Su
pthe Court.
0. A. LOCHRANE. JOHN LAMAR.
Ms I—lv.
SPEER A HUNTER,
ATTORNEYSAT LAW,
Macon, Ga.<
08m Triangular Block, Conor of Cherry
Street tad Cotton Atenne.
¥X hart associated ss partners In the practice of Law in
the counties of the Macon uxi adjoining Circuits, and
♦Jtwiere in the State by special contract—auo, will attend
ike Federal Court* at Savannah and Marietta.
ALEX. M. SPEER,
_fcc!My SAMUEL HUNTER
THE LIVER
ISVIGORATOR!
PREPARED BT DR. BAKFORD,
COMPOUNDED ENTIRELY FROM GUMS,
I Sow of the best Purgative and Liver Medicines now before
the nubite. that sets ass Cathartic, easier, milder, sad
effectual than any other medicine known. It Is not on
•J * Cathartic, but a Liver remedy, acting Sret on the Liver
“Owl it* morbid matter, then on the Stomach and bowels to
any off uaj matter, thus accomplishing two purposes ■tr
tMily. without any of the painful feelings experienced in the
fjeistorj ot most Cathartics. It strengthen* the system at
** tune time that it purges it; and when taken dally in mod
*gk doses, will strengthen and build tt up with unusual rap-
The LIVER is one of the • [principal regulators of the
“ body : and when it u iierforma its functions well,
*Jwersfthc?vstemar S fully developed. The Rom
chUtmost entirely depea- dent on the healthy action
oftkeLlver tor the proper ft oe rformance of Its functions;
-tw M> stom-ach Uat fault w the bowels are at toult, and
if*,. tvstem suffers In consequence of one organ—
IJJ; tit—haring ceased a to do it* duty. Fortheaia
?“*of that organ, one oft , the proprietors has made it
;•* tody, la a practice of ft more than twenty years, to
ie remedy where- with to counteract the many
“•segments to which It la M liable.
Tojwvt that this remedy | ** is at last found, any perepn
with LIVER * COMPLAINT, in any sfitt
“gs, ha. but to try abot- VW tie, and conviction is certain,
is. e * B Gums remove all morbid or bad matter from
5* *y**m, supplying in J their place a healthy flow of
ZS avtgc rating th atom- ach, causing food to digest
PCKIFYINO THE m BLOOD; glvtaf tone and
t° the whole machin- cry, removing the cause ot
tgSfflffiKljfe > ’SjSb.AXV.WBiTU
One dose after eating is . sufficient to relieve the atom
a sec prevent the food ft from rising and souring.
dost taken before retiring, prevents NlGHT
on* dose taken at ft nBAt, loosens the bowels
Ittaj. and cures COS- ~ TIVENEBS. _ „
jGm dose taken after each ms meal will cure DYSPEP-
ft spoonfuls will alwayi ie
rw.Bt CK RRADACHX.
b r** taken tor to 1 _ male obstruetton* removes
of the disease, and ■ i makes a perfect cure,
on. dose immediate-1 w | y relieves CHOLIC, while
often repeated ft Is a sure cure for CHOL
jAd*'RBUS. smfspre ventative of CHOLERA.
one bottle is & needed to throw out of the
••ex ta. tffrets of medi _ dne after a long sickness.
Guttle taker, for JAUNDICE remove* all
J* or unnatural col A or from the skin.
“>•* taken a short ft time before eating give* vig
inSUejmi makes food digest well.
F.Rfv often repeated S cures CHRONIC DIAR-
SiJiJL in its worst forte,. ™ while SUMMER and
J *'WLL complaints yield Mk almost to the llrst dose.
h,%5,?J W 0 dsses cures ft attacks caused by WORMS
gQtt.4ren;tfcerelsnosur- - er. ante, er speedier remedy
■tt* world, is it never! ft UiU.
bottles cure* DROPSY, by exciting the
W*ta* e pleasure in re-1 commending this medicine
SUygventsttve for FEVEB AND AGUE, CHILL
of s BILLIOU9 TYPE.-
r°J*fte with certainty,! _ end thousands are willing to
to its wondeaful vfr-| Jt toes.
ft It nrv giving their nnanimons estl
™°w In lu favor.
to **“Water in the mouth with the ißvtgorw
’ swallow both together.
the liver invigorator
MEDICAL DISCOVERY, and is daily
cures, almoet too great to believe. It cures a* if by
S*. ovsa tin rs< dses aivina hots tt. and seldom more
bottle is required Cm! of LIVER Com
grrmeathe worn Jaundict or DytpspsSn to *
fgftc V. aU of which are the result oft DISEASED LTV
PRICI OK* DOLLAR per bottl*.
SANFORD A 00, Frowielora.
____ 346 Broadway, Sew Tort
wb.oloißa.le Afonta t
: T. W Dyott A Sooa, Fblladel-
Er •-*-&• Burr A Cos, Bouton : M. H. Hoy A Oo,Portland;
p - Part, Cinrlnnati ; Gaylord A Hammond. Cleveland;
A DavU. Chk**o ;O. J. Wood A C 0 ,84. Lonla;
TZ**. 4- Iw. IWrti: 8. 8. Hanot, BaManto
ZTT® wwokt
God Bless Ton.
How sweetly fall those simple words
Upon the human heart,
When friends long bound by strongest ties
Are doomed by fate to part.
You sadly press the hand of thoee
Who thus in love caress you,
And soul responsive beats to soul,
In breathing out “God bless you.”
‘■God bless you I” ah I long months ago,
I heard the mournful phrase,
When one whom I in childhood loved,
Went from my dreamy gaze.
Now blinding tears fall thick and fast,
I mourn my long lost treasure,
While echoes of the heart bring back
The farewell phrase ’God bless you.”
The mother sending forth her boy
To scenes untried and new,
Lisps not a studied stately speech,
Nor murmurs out “adieu.”
She sadly says between her sobs,
Whene’er misfortunes press you,
Come.to thy mother—boy, come back,
Then sadly sigh ‘God bless you.”
*God bless youl” more of love expresses
Than volumes without number;
Reveal we thus our trust in him,
Whose eyelids never slumber.
I ask in parting no longer speech,
Drawled out in studied measure,
I only ask the dear old words,
So sweet—so sad—“ God bless you.”
For the Georgia Citizen.
Mrs. Everett'* Address,
To the Patrons and Pupils of her School ,
at Union Grove Meeting House, War
riour District, in the County of Bibb.
There is no selfish interest that prompts
the good Teacher to labor for the good
of his or her scholars. The deep inter
est which they will feel to advance them
in their studies, surpasses every other.
The high and holy motive which actu
ates the Teacher is fraught with the
purest feelings of benevolence. His own
great heart feels for the wants of his
scholars. I say “great,” for a teacher
should have a great heart. The more
the intellect is expanded the greater will
be the soul. Applying the principles of
Education enlarges the mind, and teach
ing is one of the highest and noblest en
terprises that ever filled the bosom of
man or woman. And it is entitled to
the deepest solicitude of all who desire
the good of his creatures. It cannot be
pondered too frequently or too deeply.
It is true, there ought to be a much more
enlarged and impressive views of it. —
The scale of sympathy and liberality
which is felt for the poor children, and
the provision which lias been made by
the Executive Department bears some
proportion to the magnitude of the in
terest involved in their salvation. Our
country has grown so rapidly, and its
condition and wants are changing so con
stantly, that the most active zeal can
hardly keep pace with its ever growing
wants. Borne on a rapid current, peril
ous with hidden dangers, we need to be
constantly advancing. Our rapid growth,
our heterogeneous population, the vari
rious and conflicting forces which are at
work in forming the character of our
children, and the free play which is giv
en to all kinds of influences, good and
bad, and the intense and aimost morbid
activity which these influences possess,
all give a peculiarity which demands
the most speedy and efficient efforts for
its good, and as parents and guardians of
our children, we should be in earnest in
this great and good cause. Let our chil
dren early drink at the fount of knowl
edge. Their minds should be instilled
with something that is useful, something
that will benefit them after they are
grown; to make them good and enter
prising citizens of the State in which
they live. The State of Georgia has re
flected honor upon herself in making
provision for the children of the poor.
Our desire is to have them supplied
with well qualified teachers, and the duty
of parents is to see that their children are
benefitted by them. Early impressions
with children are lasting, and I would
say to mothers, (for I, too, am a mother,
and know the full depth of a mother’s
love,) that your children are now receiv
ing that lasting impression of good or
evil which time will only serve to bring
out in more clear arid ineffaceable out
lines. It therefore should be borne in mind
by you as a striking motive for prompt
and energetic efforts on your part, that
your influence is needed in this sealing
time. The amount of effort, which might,
at another time, be almost unfelt, will
now exert a power sufficient to secure
this good end. While they are fostered
and nurtured by your care, and restrain
ed by parental authority, their minds
being perfectly accessible to knowledge
and easily moulded by it, O, how it
sends joy and gladness to their hearts,
and their countenances will eradiate and
sparkle with intelligence. 1 trust there
are but few mothers but desire the hap
piness of their children, and are willing
to deny themselves many luxuries to aid
and benefit them.
Napoleon Bonaparte enquired of Mad
ame De Stael, a well educated and highly
accomplished French lady, what would
best promote the goc-dof society and com-
bina the interest of the government.—
MACON, GA. SEPTEMBER 10, 1858.
showing that a mother’s influence is great,
and if it is of the right kind, is condu
cive to the happiness of her children, not
only in encouraging it, but she may,
by her influence, strengthen the hands of
the teacher. And she can do this in va
rious ways. A mother never should al
low her child to tell any thing that has
transpired in the school-room, by wav
of a complaint against the teacher, for
they, most always put on a false color
ing. If she should encourage this, and
sympathise with her child, she encoura
ges it to be disobedient at school, and
weakens the government of the teacher.
If the mother should think the teacher
has gone too far, and abused her children,
let her go to the teacher, and if it is a
a gentleman or a lady, they will make
it right. A teacher’s heart has been
made to bleed by such a course, and by
such a course you will dishearten the
teachers and cause them to leave.
A mother’s influence is almost un
bounded over her child. There is no
one so well fitted to mould its disposition
and to aid the teacher in her labors of
love, as the mother. To illustrate—a
lady inquired of a Wall street lawyer,
in the city of New York, after he was
appointed Warden of the Sing-Sing
Prison, why it was that he had so much
tenderness of heart towards the poor
prisoners. “My mother was a Quaker,”
said he, “when I was a small boy, some
other little boys with myself hunted and
pelted a poor little kitten with stones, so
that she died. My mother, on hearing
the circumstance, took me on her lap
and talked to me in such a moving man
ner, that I sobbed as if my heart would
break, and I have never forgotten it, and
even now the ghost ot that pelted little
kitten will come up between me and the
poor prisoners at Sing-Sing, which will
ever make me to be humane and forbear
ing.” Once more—the Rev. Dr. New
ton, who has done so much to help the
world, was once a wicked youth. While
away from home, as he lays down up
on the sands of Africa, he thinks of
his mother, repeating to him that Infant
prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep,”
his tears fell like the summer rain in that
lone resting place, and he became a
Christian. Such precepts and examples
should be carried out by every mother
and teacher. The children are soon to
take the power into their hands which is
to control our legislation, shape our in
stitutions and give character to the in
fluences which mould a nation’s mind.
And will you not put forth every effort
requisite to bless and to save them, and
with them the country of your love.
To her Pupils.
My endeared ones, who, have spent
with me the past winter and so far of
the present summer. The relation which
we have sustained to each other, as
teacher and pupil, is about to close. —
While laboring with you and for you,
my sympathies have been drawn towards
you. It will always afford me the highest
pleasure to hear from you and of your
prosperity in life,and may you continue to
draw from that living fountain of knowl
edge which flows from the temple of
science: for an enlightened and virtuous
mind is the richest boon you can have.
May your future be bright. I hope you
will not forget that I have prayed with
you and for you, and, O! do not forget
to pray for yourselves. Remember there
is an eye that is always looking down
upon you, and knows all you do. Imi
tate the virtues of the good. Love and
obey your parents—cherish your moth
er. As she is in the decline of life, do
all you can to lighten her cares—unseen
tears may weave untimely furrows on
your mother’s cheek, by your wayward
ness, but her hand and heart will cher
ish you still; and when school opens
again, do all you can to encourage your
teacher by your attention to your studies,
and in faithful obedience to his or her
requirements.
A Rich California Woman. —Mrs. Eliza
Todd, who owns a ranch a mile below
Weaverille, is a remarkable woman. In
1852 she walked form Shasta to Weaver
ville, and, without money, began the business
of washing for six dollars a dozen. An ac
quaintance who lived near her domicil, says
that for a long time she was bending over
the wash-tub at daylight in the morning, at
noon and at ten o’clock at night Buiness
prospered, and after a while she bought two
claims which turned out welL Then she
bought chickens which laid eggs and which
she sold at half a dollar a piece; then she
bought a pig for $125, and sold its progeny,
for an ‘ounce’ or $25, then bought cows and
sold milk. Business still increased, and she
began buying real estate, lending money at
ten per cent a month, and speculating in
claims, always was fortunate; every touch
turned something to gold. Now she is one
of the largest property holders in the north.
A Memorable Day*- —The 16th of August,
on which the first telegram was sent across
the ocean, is a memorable day in American
annals. On that day 1519, Cortez set out
on his expedition to Mexico; in 1777, the
battle of Benington, and in 1780 the battle
of Camden were fought, and in 1825 the
( North Sea waa dwwvered by CapUm Prank
r**
The Last Devil's Walk.
BY CHABLXS SIOUXS.
I.
From his brimstone bed at break of day,
A devil has walking gone—
To trample and char the fiow’rs to death,
To Intest the air with his pestileht breath.
And to cloud the morning sun.
u.
And, pray, how was this devil dress'd *
Oh ! he was cased in an iron vest;
Hi* scales were close and his rivets true.
With never a chink for a spear to get through.
m.
And ever thehlll and over the dale,
He walked and over the plain.
And an air-gun, elegant, pollsn’d and round.
That would kill mile* off with never a sound.
He travel'd like a harmless cane.
tv.
And over the laurels of full-blown Fame.
And the tender shoots of the young Good Name,
He stamp'd with his merciless hoof of shame,
And he left its prints on earth.
And backward ana forward he wiggled his tall.
Through the rose-trlmm'd garden and lily-strewn vale.
Marking his course by a loathsome trail.
Like a snail track over a peach.
v.
He spied a laborer hard at work.
Early at his vocation.
His prominence offered a prominent shot.
“Oh!” quoth the devil, “he sees me not.”
“So he shoulder'd hi* piece, and he aim'd, God wot!
With terrible calculation!
VI.
He saw young innocent folks at play,
Blameless, beautiful, wise and gay;
The prospect liked not him.
So a vitriol flask trom his pouch he drew,
(Twaa a devilish deed!) and the liquid threw
O’er the fair young group, whom he left a crew
Os monsters scar'd and grim.
VII.
He peered in a house: ’twas a godly manse,
Os time and weather nad stood the chance,
And was still erect and fair.
“Aha!” queth the devil, “the pile looks well.
But I've nre-work* studied for nothing in hell,
If 1 can’t find out when a match or shell
May lead to combustion there.”
vm.
That Devil can creep where no other fiends can.
He found an unguarded spot.
Where he scraped a mine with his diligent hoof,
And—his train prepared—wall, pillar and roof,
Blew up in the air like shot.
IX.
That breach in the roof is mended now;
Its whereabout few can tell.
But the devil had done his work that day.
So he crawl’d him back to his master’s pay.
Which he royally spent in a jovial way,
With the lowest devils in hell.
x.
“There are many devil s that walk this world,
Devils great and devils small.
Devils with tails, devils without;”
Devils who whisper, devils who shout,
Devils who mystify, devils who teach :
But the CanuMßY Dxvil—as hard to reach
As the snail, who, now safe on some distant beach,
Is digesting the core of my favorite peach—
Is the shabbiest devil of all 1
From the Atlantic Monthly, for August
The Romance of a Glove.
[conclusion.]
‘ W ell the rounds of rides, excursions,
soirees, visits to the operas and theatres,
rides on the Boulevards, and in the gal
leries of the Louvre, ended at last. The
evening before we were to set out for the
South of France, I was at my lodgings
unpacking and repacking the luggage
which I had left in Joseph’s care during
my absence among the Alps; I was
melancholy, dissatisfied with the dissipa
tions which had exhausted my time and
energies, and thinking of Margaret. I
had not preserved a single memento of
her, and now wished 1 had one—if only
a withered leaf, or a line of her writing.
In this mood I chanced to cast my eye
upon a stray glove in the bottom of my
trunk. I snatched at it eagerly, and in
the impulse of the moment —before I re
flected that I was wronging Flora—pres
sed it to my lips. Yes, I found the place
where it had been mended, the spot Mar
garet’s fingers had touched, and gave it
a kiss for every stitch. Then, incensed
at myself, I flung it from me, and hur
ried from the room. I walked towards
the Place de la Concorde, where the bril
liant lamps burned like a constellation.
I strolled through the Elysian Fields,
and watched the lights of the carriages
swarming like fire-flies up the long aven
ues ; stopped by the concert gardens,
and listened to the glorified girls sing
under rosy and golden pavilions the last
songs of the season ; wandered about the
fountains—by the garden of the Tuille
ries, where the trees stood so shadowy
and still, and the statutes gleamed so
pale—along the quays of the Seine,
where the waves rolled so dark below—
trying to settle my thoughts, to master
myself, to put Margaret from me.
‘Weary at length, I returned to my
chamber, seated myself composedly, and
looked down at the glove, which lay
where I had thrown it, upon the polish
ed floor. Mechanically, I stooped and
took up a bit of folded paper. It was
written upon—l unrolled it, and read.—
It was as if I had opened the record of
doom. Had the apparition of Margaret
herself risen suddenly before me, I could
not have been more astonished. It was
a note from her—and such a note!—full
of love, suffering and humility—poured
out of a heart so deep and tender and
true, that the shallowness of my own
seemed uterly contemptible in compari
son with it. 1 cannot tell you what was
written, but it was more than even my
most cruel and exacting pride should
have asked. It was what would once
have made me wild with joy—now it al
most maddened me with despair. I, who
had often talked fine philosophy to oth
ers, had not a grain of that article left to
physic my own malady. But one
course seemed plain before me, and that
was to go quietly and drown myself in
the Seine, which I had seen flowing so
swift and dark under the bridges, an
hour ago, when I stood and mused upon
the tragical corpses its solemn flood had
swallowed.
‘ 1 am a little given to superstition,
and the mystery of the note excited me.
I have no doubt but there was some üb
tile connection between that and the near
presence of Margaret’s spirit, of which I
had that night been conscious. But the
note had reached me by no supernatural
a method, as I was at first half inclined
to believe. It was, probably, the touch,
the atmosphere, the ineffably fine influ
ence which surrounded it, which had pen
etrated my unconscious perceptions, and
brought her near. The paper, the glove
were full of Margaret,—full of some
thing besides what we call mental asso
ciations, —full of emanations of the very
love and sufferings which she had breath
ed into the writing.
4 How the note came there upon the
floor was a riddle which I was too much
bewildered to explain by any natural
means. Joseph, who burst in upon me,
in my extremity of pain and difficulty,
solved it at onoe. It had fallen out of
*fttar4wlir it had lam feUfcd, •>.
lent, unnoticed, during all this interven
ing period of folly and vexation of soul.
Margaret had done her duty, in time; I
had only myself to blame for the tangle
in which I found myself. I was thinking
of Flora, upon the deck of the steamship,
when, in a moment of chagrin, she had
been so near throwing herself over; —
wondering to what fate her passion and
impetuosity would hurry her now, if she
knew; cursing myself for my weakness
and perfidy ; while Jo9eph kept asking
me what I intended to do.
‘Do? do?’ I said, furiously,—‘l shall
kill you, that is what I shall do, if you
drive me mad with questions which nei
ther angels nor fiends can answer !’
‘ I know what you will do,’ said Jo
seph ; ‘you will go home and marry
Margaret.’
4 You can have no conception of the
effect of these words —Go home and
marry Margaret. I shook as I have seen
men shake with the ague. All that might
have been—what might be still—the hap
piness cast away, and perhaps yet with
in my reach—the temptation of the Dev
il, who appealed to my cowardice, to fly
from Flora, break my vows, risk mv
honor and her life, for Margaret—all
this rushed through me tumultuously.—
At length I said—
-4 No, Joseph, I shall do no such thing.
I can never be worthy of Margaret; it
will be only by fasting and prayer that
I can make myself worthy of Flora.”
4 Will you start for Italy in the morn
ing V he asked, pitilessly.
4 For Italy in the morning,’ 1 groaned.
Meet Flora, travel with her, play the
hypocrite, with smiles on my lip and
hell in my heart—or thunderstrike her
at once with the truth; what was Ito
do ? To some men the question would,
perhaps, have presented few difficulties.
But for me, Sir, who am not quite de
void of conscience, whatever you may
think—let me tell you, I’d rather hang
by sharp hooks over a roasting fire than
be again suspended as I was betwixt two
alternatives, and feel the torture of
both!
‘Having driven Joseph away, I lock
ed myself into my room, and suffered the
torments of the damned in as quiet a
manner as possible, until morning. Then
J oseph returned, and looked at me in
dismay.
‘ For Heaven’s sake !’ he said, ‘ you
ought not to let this thing kill you—-and
it will, if you keep on.’
‘So much the better,’ I said, ‘if it
kills nobody but me. But don’t be
alarmed. Keep cool, and attend to the
commission I am going to trust to you.
I can’t see Flora this morning; I must
gain a little time. Go to the station of
the Lyons railway, where I have engag
ed to meet her party; say to her that I
am detained, but that I will join her on
the journey. Give her no time to ques
tion you, and be sure that she does not
stay behind.’
4 I’ll manage it, —trust me !’ said Jo
seph ; and off he started. At the end
of two hours, which seemed twenty, he
burst into my room, crying,—
4 Good news !’ she is gone ! I told her
vou had lost your passport, and would
have to get another from our minister.’
‘ What! 1 exclaimed, ‘ you lied to
her?’
4 Oh! there was no other way!’ said
J oseph, ingenuously,—she is so sharp !
They’re to wait for you at Marseilles.
But I’ll manage that too. On their ar
rival at the Hotel d’Orient they’ll find
a telegraphic dispatch from me. Iwa
ger a hat, they’ll leave In the first steam
er for Naples. Then you can follow at
your leisure.’
‘ Thank you, Joseph.’
‘ I felt relieved. Then came a reac
tion. The next day I was attacked by
fever. I know not how long I struggled
against it, but it mastered me. The last
thing I remember were the visits of
friends, the strange talk of French phy
sicians, whispers and consultations, which
I knew were about me, yet took no in
terest in, —and at length Joseph rushing
to my bedside, in a flutter of agitation,
and gasping—
‘ Flora!’
‘ What of Flora ?’ I demanded.
‘ I telegraped, but she wouldn’t go ;
she has come back; she is here!’
‘ I was sinking back into the stupor
from which 1 had been roused, when I
heard a rustling which seemed afar off,
yet was in my chamber ; then a vision
appeared to my sickened sight,—a face
which I dimly thought I had seen before
—a flood of curls and a rain of kisses
showering upon me, —sobs and devour
ing caresses—Flora’s voice calling me
passionate names; and I lying so pas
sive, faintly struggling to remember, un
til my soul sank whirling in darkness,
and I knew no more.
4 One morning, I cannot tell you how
long after, I awoke and found myself in
astrange-lookingroom, filled with strange
objects, not the least strange of which
was the thing that seemed myself. At
first I looked with vague and motionless
curiosity out of the Lethe from which
my mind slowly emerged; painless, and
at peace ; listlessly questioning whether
I was alive or dead, whether the limp
weight tying in bed there was my body,
—the meaning of the silence and the
closed curtains. Then, with a succession
of painful flashes, as if the pole of an
electric battery had been applied to my
brain, memory returned, —Margaret, Flo
ra, Paris, delirium. I next remember
hearing myself groan aloud, —then see
ing Joseph at my side. I tried to speak
but could not. Upon my pillow was a
glove, aad he placed it against my cheek.
An indescribable, excruciating thrill shot
through me; still 1 could not speak.—
After that came a relapse. Like Mrs.
Browning’s poet, I lay
44 Twixt gloom and dream,
With Death and Life at each extreme.”
4 But one morning I was better. I
could talk. Joseph bent over me, weep
|**fer joy.
4 The danger has past! he said. ‘ The
doctors say you will get well!’
* Have I been so ill, then ?’
‘111?’ echoed Joseph. ‘Nobody
thought you could live. We all gave
you up, except her’—and the,
4 She !’ I said, —‘is she here ?’
‘ From the moment of her arrival,’ re
plied J oseph, ‘ she has never left you.—
Oh, if you don’t thank God for her,’ —
he lowered his voice,—‘and live all the
rest of your life just to reward her, you
are the most ungrateful wretch! You
would oertainly have died but for her.
She has scarcely slept, till this morning,
when they said you would recover.’
Joseph paused. Every word he spoke
went down like a weight of lead into my
soul. I had, indeed, been conscious of a
tender hand soothing my pillow, of a
lovely form flitting through my dreams,
of a breath and magnetic touch of love
infusing warm, sweet life into me, —but
it had always seemed Margaret, never
Flora.
‘The glove?’ I asked.
‘ Here it is,’ said Joseph. ‘ln your
delirium you demanded it; you would
not be without it; you caressed it, and
addressed to it the tenderest apostro
phes.’
4 And Flora, —she heard V
‘ Flora V repeated J oseph. ‘ Don’t
you know—haven’t you any idea—what
has happened ? It has been terrible!’
‘ Tell me at once’ I said. ‘ Keep noth
ing back !’
‘ Immediately on her return from Mar
seilles, you remember that V
‘ Y'es, yes ! go on !’
‘ She established herself here. No
body could come between her and you ;
and a brave, true girl she proved herself.
Oh, but she was wild about you ! She
offered the doctors extravgant sums—she
would have bribed Heaven itself, if she
could, not to let you die. But there
came a time,—one night, when you were
raring about Margaret—l tell you it
was terrible ! She would have the truth,
and so I told her, —everything, from the
beginning. It makes me shudder to
think of it, it struck her so like death !
4 What did she say ? —what did she
do V
‘ She didn’t say much, —‘ Oh, my God!
my God !’—something like that. The
next morning she showed me a letter
which she had written to Margaret.’
4 To Margaret V I started up, but fell
back again, helpless with a groan.
4 Yes,’ said J oseph,— ‘ and it was a let
ter woithy of the noblest woman. I
wrote another, for I thought Margaret
ought to know everything. It might save
her life, and yours, too. In the mean
time, I had got worse news from her still
—that her health continued to decline,
and that her physician saw no hope for
her except in a voyage to Italy. But
that she resolutely refused to undertake
until she had got those letters. You
know the rest.’
4 The rest,’ I said, as a horrible suspi
cion flashed uponjme- You told me some
thing terrible had happened.’
4 Yes—to Flora. But you have heard
the worst. She is gone: she is by this
time in Rome.’
4 Flora gone ? But you said she was
here.’
4 She V So she is. But did you
think I meant Flora ? I supposed you
knew. Not Flora—but Margaret! Mar
garet !’
4 1 shrieked out ‘Margaret ?’ That’s the
last I remember—at least, the last I can
tell. She was there—l was in her arms
—she had crossed the sea, not to save her
own life, but mine. And Flora had
gone, and my dreams were true; and
the breath and magnetic touch of love,
which infused warm sweet life into me,
and seemed not Flora’s but Margaret’s,
were no illusion, and what more
can I tell ?
KissrifQ.—Hardly any two females kiss
alike. There is as mnch variety in manner of
doing it, as in the faces and manners of the
sex. Some delicate little creatures merely
give a slight rub of the lip. This is a sad
aggravation. We seem about to “have a
good time,” but actually get nothing. Oth
ers go into us like a hungry man into a beef
steak, and seem to chew up our countenances.
This, which is not a common case, is too
much like Cannibal Islands, and soon drives
away a delicate lover. Others struggle like
hens while burying themselves in dry dirt.
The kiss is won by great exertions, and is
not worth as much as the trouble it costs. —
Now, we are in favor of a certain shyness
when a kiss is proposed, but it should not be
continued too long; and, when the fair one
gives in, let her administer the kiss with
warmth and energy. Let there be a soul in
it If she closes her eyes, and sighs deeply
immediately after it, the effect is greater.—
She should be careful not to “spread” the
kiss, but give it as a humming bird runs his
bill into a honeysuckle, deep but delicately.
There is much virtue in a kiss when well de
livered. We have had the memory of one
we received last .
Atlanta Medical College.—The com
mencement exercises of this institution came
off at Atlanta on Thursday, and passed off
(the American says) most pleasantly and
and satisfactorily. The degree of M. I). was
conferred upon thirty-nine young gentlemen,
and the degree of Ad. Bundum on six med
ical gentlemen from different sections of the
State.
Dr. A. M. Moor delivered the valedictory,
which is higly spoken ofj and the address of
Dr. C. B. Nottingliam, of Macon, was pro
nounced a “choice specimen of elegant com
position, classical and scientific knowlege and
elevated morality.”
Stop that Bot. —A cigar in his mouth, a
swagger in his walk, impudence in his face,
a care-for-nothingness in his manner. Judg
ing from his demeanor he is older than his
father, wiser than his teacher, more honored
than the mayor of the town. Stop him—he
is going too fast. He don't know his speed;
stop him, ere tobacco shatters his nervea, ere
pride ruins his character, ere the “lounger
master the man, ere good ambition and man*
ly strength give way to low pursuits and
brutish aims.” Stop all such boys t They are
legion—the shame of their families, the dis
grace of their town, the —d and solemn re
fMMfeMl OWMMTK
Yankee Courtin’.
BY JAMES BUSSELL LOWELL.
Zekle crep’ up, quite unbeknown,
An’ peeked in tru the winder,
An’ there sot Huldy all alone,
’lth no one nigh to hinder.
Agin’ the chimbly crooknecks hung,
An’ in among ’em rusted
The old queen’s arm that gran’ther Young
Fetched backed from Concord busted.
The walnut logs shot sparkles out
Towards the pootiest. bless her!
An’ leetle fire danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.
The very room, coz she wuz in.
Looked warm frum floor to cellin',
An’ she looked ful ez rosy agin
Ez the apples she wuz peelin.’
She heerd a foot, an’ knowed it, tu,
A raspin’ on the scraper—
All ways to once her feelin’s flew,
Like sparks in burnt up paper.
He kin’ o’ l’itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o’ the seekle;
His heart kep’ goin’ pity pat,
But hern went pity Zekle.
An’ yet she gin her cheer a jerk
Ez though she wished him furder,
An’ on her apples kep’ to work
Ez es a wager spurred her.
“You want to see my pa, I ’spose?”
“Wal, no; I come designin’—”
“To see my ma ? She’s sprinklin’ clo’es
Agin to-morrow’s i’nin’.’’
He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t’other,
An’ on which one he felt the wust
He couldn’t lia’ told ye, nuther.
Sez he “I’d better call agin;”
Sez she, “Think likely, Mister ;”
The last words pricked him like a pin,
An’—wal, he up and kist her.
“When ma bimeby upon ’em slips,
Huldy sot, pale ez ashes,
All kind o’ smily ronnd the lips
An’ teary round the lashes.
Her’blood riz quick, though, like the tide
Down to the Bay o’ Fundy,
An’ all 1 know is they wuz cried
In meetin’ come next’ Sunday.
For the Georgia Citizen.
A SARMENT,
PREACHED AT MAGNOLIA CHURCH.
Taken down in Short Hand, by Fbaooletian.
Breethten and Sistren :—As I will
take dinner with some of you, I will
state in the outset that nothin’ isn’t too
good for me to eat; and when you find
my tex’, you’ll find it in those words—
“And there shall be whaling and smash
ing of teeth.”
There’s some good ole breethren on
my right that has anew toon in their
mows, and there’s some good ole sistren
on my left that feel “all right on the
goose”—ah!
But—ah, you sinful boys, over there,
who’re now chewin’ rotten ter backer,
when you go down to Makin or ATerlum
bus, beware that you isn’t taken in by j
the woman with seven heads and ten
horns—ah! “For there shall be whal
ing and smashing of teeth.”
Those begin’ methodistsremind me of
a good ole wider woman, that lived down
in ’Catur county, that had an ageable
hen—ah! Well, this ole, blue, long
legged, Shang-high hen laid from twelve
to a dozen eggs, and laid from day ’till
day, and finally went a-settin’—ah.—
She sit and sat and set-, and the Lord
know if she’d tot any longer, the chick
en lice would have e’t her clean up—ah.
She hatched off her little brood, as it
were, and the ole lady fed them highly
on dough—ah. In those days—as the
Scripters say—a forked tail hawk came
sailing along, as it were—ah, and he took
them off one-by-one, day-by-day, ’till
he got them all—ah, and this poor ole
sister was left to weep and sigh—ah !
“And there shall be whaling and smash
ing of teeth.”
Those methodists will have a distrac
ted meetin’, as it were—ah. And there
they’ll take them in one-by-one—ah, day
by-day, ’till they get them all—ah.—
P’r’aps they’ll take in the whole settle
ment on what they call probation—ah.
They’ll shout and sing, preach, pray and
beg—ah. Before the six months are out
the devil will come along, like a roarin’
lion—ah, and took them off one-by-one,
down, down to hell, like the hawk did
the old woman’s chickens—ah! And
there shall be whaling and smashing of
teeth.”
Pass the hat, brother Ev’rett.
Tune—Pitch—To my ringy maroosa
lam, &c.
Sensible.
We copy the following from the
Natchez Courier:
To every one his Own. — Printers
and publishers have to live as well as
every body else. There is no line set
up for this paper, that does not cost the
proprietor, a certain amount of money v
Upon him therefore, certainly, there
should not fall the whole burthen of in
serting military and fire notices, tributes
of respect, or meetings of this, that, or
the other association, to pay some long
deferred debt to memory of the depart
ed, or some well- deserved tribute of af
fection or gratitude. Asa member of
the community, he has to bear his bur
then as any other, as a proprietor of a
journal, he is no more bound to give up his
oolumns gratis to private grief or glori
fication, than the merchant is bound to
offer his wares and merchandize gratis
when asked for, for the funeral or Fourth
of July occasions.
Irti jit gwllwi wto Mrs to as
wo. as.
sociate for certain purposes, to do honor
to the memory of one who died years
since, or pay respect to someone still
living, meet, pass half a column of reso
lutions, and gravely resolve—
“ That the proceedings of this meeting
be published in the Daily and Weekly
Courier and Free Trader”—without even
providing one dollar for the expense of
such publication, or considering for the
moment that an insertion in the oolumns
of either paper, costs something to the
proprietor, and that he is not called up
on to contribute to the expense, more
than any other individual.
The evil practice complained of has
grown so great, of late, that it is but
common honesty and right to speak of it.
If gentlemen composing meetings, desire
to have their proceedings published ; if
they think them of sufficient consequence
to blazen them to the world; if they
griev§ or rejoice sufficiently to induce
them to seek an utterance through the
public press; they ought to be willing
to bear the expense, and not stealthily
and without asking, impose that expense
on the printers. Words cost but little.
It is empty hypocricy to resolve on
words and depend on the charity of the
press to give those words vitality. This
grieving or rejoicing at other peoples’s
cost, does not suit our notion of common
propriety.
We are happy to give place, as mat
ters of news, to reports of any move
ments, political or religious, or of any
occasions of rejoicing or of mourning
but where others desire to vent their
feelings in reports, resolutions, or pro
ceedings, and think them incomplete
without publication, we think, if they
are sincere, they can afford it at the ex
pense of their own, and not at the prin
ter’s pockets. As an individual, we are
ever ready to contribute over and above
our means. As conductor of a public
journal, we desire to give notice that
hereafter all obituaries, tributes of res
pect, proceedings appertaining to indi
viduals, and the like, will not be insert
ed in the Natchez Courier, unless they
are engaged to be paid for by responsi
ble parties.
The Chairman and Secretaries of those
meetings whose resolutions (“ ordered to
be published”) do not appear, will un
derstand the reason who, and also the
terms upon which we shall be glad to
make public their wishes and views.
The Early Loss of Purity of
Character.
We find the following very beautiful ex
tract going thß rounds of the papers credit
ed to no paper—no author.
Its exceeding great beauty leads us to call
special attention to it by these brief prefato
ry remarks. Let the young read and treas
ure up the moral it would illustrate and in
culcate in their heart of hearts.
“Over the beauty of.the plum and the
apricot there grows a bloom and beauty
more exquisite than the fruit itself—a soft,
delicate plush that overspreads its blushing
cheek. Now, if you strike your hand over
that, and it is once gone, it is gone forever;
for it never grows but once. Take the flow
er that hangs in the morning impearled with
dew—arrayed as no queenly woman ever
was arrayed with jewels. Once shake it so
that the beads roll oft, and you may sprin
kle water on it as carefully as you please,
yet it can never be made again what it was
when the dew fell silently upon it from hea
en! On a frosty morning you may see the
panes of glass covered with landscape—
mountains, lakes, trees, blended in a beauti
ful, fantastic picture. Now lay your hand
upon the glass, and by the scratch of your
finger, or by tbe warmth of your palm, all
the delicate tracery will be obliterated ! So
there is in youth a beauty and purity of
character, which, when once touched and
defiled, can never be restored; a fringe more
delicate than frost work, and which, when
torn and broken, will never be re-embroid
ered. A man who has spotted and spoiled
his garments in youth, though he may seek
to make them white again, can never wholly
do it, even were he to wash them with his
tears. When man leaves his father’s house,
with the blessings of his mother’s tears still
wet upon his forehead, if he once loses that
early purity of character, it is a loss that he
can never make, whole again. Such is the
consequence of crime. Its effect cannot be
eradicated, it can only be forgiven. It is a
stain of blood that we can never make white,
and which can be washed away only in the
blood of Christ, that cleanseth from all sin l”
Doing Away with the Lawyers.— The
Youg men’s Christian Association, of Pitts
burg, have adopted a policy which must be
alarming to the lawyers of that oity. At a
recent meeting, resolutions were adopted for
the appointment of a committee of arbitra
tion, before whom the members of the As
sociation, and all others who may wish to
have their personal differences settled, in
obedience to Christian rules, may bring their
matters of controversy. A Pittsburg cor
respondent of a religious paper, writing on
the subject says;
The object of this movement is to open
the way for a more general observation of
the injunctions plainly given by Paul, in the
sixth chapter of his first epistle to the Corin
thians. It has long been a disgrace to
those calling themselves Christians, that in
stead of an attempt amicably to settle their
differences, as those who have renounced
the world and become brethren in Christ,
they each other, and that