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C33C.JI
T ur GEORGtA CITIZEN
*** , verr fH(!*y morning at i.JO per annum In
,-.-o'■ ttu rt'/u'irchiTlfi willl** Ow O.Jta*
* A,j or l*. for the BnA Inner
_ _ :lT ‘ ■ ‘ mb snheequent Insertion. AH id
rtggrwfflu—
csodidaU* for oSee U* Depnkl far at
2lT* when col , nty office.*, Pru^tU
. •* nrey wUh
Sdo* x , racf- \,.,roe*. by Executor*. Admlnbtra
w,cd rrevVwi* to the day of sale.
L V.; f ;,'H v the irt Tuesday In the month.
r Outwit) tk. forenoon and three In Ue af
thfO.™ rt-ho-is* in the county In which tl* prop
s’- ! Property mast be advertised in like
■SSmSwm* Creditor, of mi C*t nnret be
foam Will be made to the Ordtaur tor
’ S.VoOt, must be published weekly tor
i* -J :j ± >r, r letters of Administration, thirty days; tor
/ndnUrralioo. monthly, ax raoßtk*; for
7*-* l weekly, forty days
l.dn of Mocwauro. monthly, tour
Heies fcw IJ ...4t papers, tor tbefuil .puce of three
st-* u uieillns titles from executors or admlnirtraiore
*T Ue Uie fttll **** of
’ r . IJu.lneaa Crde wUI be Inserted un-
Pnrfewt'“ following rates, vU :
20.” 1000
“ . _ tn t of this class will be admitted, unless Mid
*•£“*„ i-*, term than twelve month*. Ad
jur.un Untl wUI te charged pro rata. Ad
la advance will be charged at the
full I MESS CARDS
Samuel H. Washington,
attorney AT I*%W,
Macon, G-ft.
*itl Practice is all the Counties of the MACON Clß
i*7- JjTa the Counties of Washington, Wilkinson and
J ?*i*it to Concert Hall, over Payne's Drug Store.
LANIER & ANDERSON,
attorneys at law,
Macon, Ga.,
n’ ICTCCK in ths counties of the Mscon Circuit, and In
r>c .unties of Sumter, Monroe and Jones; also In the
jlsei Courts at Savannah.
liXICR 4 ANDERSON have also recently become the
■, fie foli,iwing Insurance Companies:
<:i irorsTA insurance aAd ban kino com
fIJT ‘which \V. M. D - Antlgnac Is President, and C. F.
fire and marine ixwr
h tCOMPART. Montgomery, of which T. H. Watts is
wtet.am! a. Williams Is Secretary.
-*sad risks on slaves taken at usual rates.
tITH-tl
L. N. WHITTLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
MACON, 6A.
;N I next to Concert Ball, over Payne’s Drug Store.
lalO—ly
LOCHRANE & LAMAR,
Attorneys at, Law,
maoon, ga.
Office by the Mechanic’s Bank.
Ary. £ HOCTtS from Bto 1J A. M„ i tofl P. M. and also
v V< Lr' l *,' s Oountlesof the Macon Circuit audit)
a ■ numoaf Jones. Monroe aad Columbia, and In the Su
pm Coart-
fc A. LOCBRANB. JOHN LAMAR.
SPEER & HUNTER,
attorneys at law,
f"lcon, Ga.,
LjuuniUr Block, Cerser sf Cherrj
rest nd fottse Irene.
odattd as partners In the practice of Law in
<s of the Macon and adjoining Circuits, and
, state by special contract—auK>, will attend
rts at Savannah and Marietta.
AI.r.X. M. SPEEK.
SAMUEL IIUNTEH.
X. j W. C. M. DUKSON
’FIN a DUKSON,
rneys at law,
:apqn, ga.
leforonces :
town, MLledgeville; Ha. Washington Poe.
,r. Wm. L. Yancey, Montgomery. Ala.; Hon.
Athens, Ga.; Uon. C. J. McDonald, Mariet-
Over Btrohecker A Co’s ru.- Store.
ONARD t 7 DOYAL,
>rney at Law,
>riffin, Ga.,
Hill Street, between Woodruff's Carriage Bs
. beubam's Furniture Store.
K isrence. L. T. DOTAL.
iES T. ELLIOTT,
y Si. CounMellor at Law,
MDEX, ARKANSAS,
ail Business entrusted to Lint in South Ar
lv kaa ” H ’
THE LIVER
IGORATOR!
IPARBD BY DR. SANFORD,
NOEO ENTIRELY FROM GUMS,
N*t Purgative and Liver Medicines now before
that acts as a Cathartic, easier, milder, and
than any other medicine known. It la not on
t-nti Liver remedy, acting Br-t on the Liver
-I ’ .iter, then on the Stomach and bowels to
natUr. thus accomplishing two purposes effee
tar.v us the painful feelings experienced in the
let i athartics. It strengthens the system at
®t It purges It; and when taken dally In mod
strengthen and build It up with unusual rap
•' nee ofthe • I principal regulators of the
- 1 v rt it performs it* functions wall,
n.are ma fully developed. Thestom
‘"■reiTilepen- jdenton the healthy action
’ t r proper £ i performance of it* functions;
Is at fault ** ‘ the bo wei* are at flsult,snd
- suffers in ‘ ‘consequence of oneorgsn—
-tung ceased “ jto do its duty. For the die
-ncm. one ofl the proprietors has made It
‘ practice of’ v ‘more than twenty yuan, to
f-rdy where ! .with to counteract the many
50 *hichilia: a> liable.
dthUremedyl *“ ‘is at last found, any person
11VI*U COMPLAINT, in any sf 1U
■lo try am w tie. and conviction is certain,
s rrn.i.ve ail ;morbidor bad matter from
ting in JM itbeir place a healthy Bow of
f . s. n. ! \ch, causing food to digest
MV* THE wm HLOOO, giving tone and
-oletachia- rry, removing Uie cause of
•gara4- lealsve.
Rr JJvi’Kl are cured. AM). WIIAT IS
•!>JiUTuk’ j v 'f occasional use ofthe
I* ! *’ifflcieiit to relieve the atom
™ * to to rising and soaring.
•**cfore !retiring, prevent* NIOHT
os, taken at| ■■ night, loosens the bowels
AreiS f.l TIVENEa*.
**-*. each aii meal will cure DYSPEP-
’•PWhfuU wUI always re
fe- m male obstructions removes
, ‘ nJ i makes a perfect cure.
~ -oedute wi iy relieves CHOLIC, while
, rvpeated Wl a sure cure for CHOL
ventative of CHOLERA.
Ik— f la 3f ‘geded to throw out ofthe
.‘.o .... d:.s alter a long alcknesa.
-metoken f . r v. JAPRDICg removes all
.■•totura,c°l. A or from the skin.
•- is ™ time before eating gives rig
ms food digest well
4 i r-peated gg cures CHRONIC DIAR
whu SUMMER nod
’ N u TWd <** almost to the Bret dom.
• car ” W attacks caused by WORMS
or speedier remedy I
• Mi fells. „ !
cures DROrST, by exciUng the
. 9
UmrT n J2 ‘'"mmendlng this medicine
- VEK AND AOCtCIIILL
of a BILUOUS TTPE.-
rj. and thousand*are wUllngto
J,J^ r 4re tlvlng their unanimous cCl
mouth with the Invtgora
” both together.
liver invigorator
i i o **5 > ICAL ulSCOVEßT.andl#daily
h’ gk? *9° B l *** to beilevt. It cures a* if by
.. , eictrw bent fit. and wodom more
le u A‘ x F a lo ‘Wre any kind of LIVER Com
r-fwM*v Os bytfxrna to a common
are th* result of DU>EASED LIT
1 OXI DOLLAR PER bottle.
SANFORD R 00-, I roprietore.
- A4l Broadway, New York.
A-SOJItW!
BtAr*T T 'dk ;▼. W Dyott A Sona, Phiiadel
-1.1 ■'J?--**™ ‘• H- H. Hay A Co-Portland;
t og-ii 3 ??? • Gaylord A Hammond. Cleveland
c 7fc °‘ J - Wood A Cos., St. Louis;
iwTrvjy 8. 8. Kane*. Baltimore.-
*■- Bold Whcdesale and Retail by
SHUN, HUNT A 00.
Maoou,Qa.
DOCTOR
J. LMckhon Bmitli,
Practicing Physician,
Macon, Ga.,
WILL attend piromptly to all Professional call* made or.
V V nlm by day or eight, eiiher at his <-lEce or reshtence.
OFYICHe—Uter Menard A Burghard's Jewelry Stole, oti
Cherry Street.
Hh>lIK.V E—At Mr. J. B. Ross’. jsn. Sl—tf
DR. A. PIERCE,
HOMCEOPATH
Office in Washington lllock.
Medicine Cases, and Books on Domestic Practice for sale.
Macou. July , I£SS. —ly
M. H. FREEMAN, M. D.
HAVING returned to Macon, offers his Prolessional rervl
ces to it citizens, and the surroundu g coui.try, and It
prepared to ireat their various dl.-wares with tnmeent ve e
table remedies, aad hopes that la consideratlc nos the !au
that he gives no poison, draws no Mood, and never d-"troys
the c .nstitutii ns ofhlspatieuts, he will be liberally patioulzed
by the afflict'd.
IF* Particular attention will be given to Plantation, and
other country practice.
EAT* Office at the Drugstore cf Dr. M. 8. Thomson, to
whom hs refers. inn. 7—ly
UR. €. J. ROOSEVELT,
HOXttPATUIC PHYSICIAN,
Office and Residence* Corner
Walnut and 3rd hirewts. Mac n, Ga.
jaa, Bl—ly
MEDICAL NOTICE.
H)r. J. L. Large,
ANNOUNCES to the public that he has A tied up Rooms,
that are airy and convenient, to accommodate Surgical
and i “hronlc Cases of *ll kinds—white and black—(the cure
of RUPTURE and relief of CANCER not excluded )
Blacks, laboring under chronic affections, will be bought.
Price according to their condition.
Parties wishing to consult me, can do so by letter, with the
case fully described, and 1 can determine the case prior to
sending tne patient, and save expense of sending aid return
ing—as circumstances render some cases incurable. I have
tuid considerable Hospital experience, which gives advantage
In the care and relief of Chronic cases. Office and Residence
comer of South Broad and Abcrcom streets, Savainah, Oa.
|uly —ts
Or. Samuel Tarver*
/"fONTINCES the practice of Medicine. Nnreery nnd
V; Obstetric* at Parkers’ r-tati. n. No. 11 U on tt e Central
Rail Road. Jefferson County,Ga. His Post Office iddress
spier's Turn Out Jmm County. Particular atte ition paid
to the treatment of Cnronio Itiseases. Any male p< non who
is afflicted with Dyspepsia, Impotence. Involunttry Emis
sions Gooorrbiea. I*rop#y, or Pi es, may. by anpl, ing to me.
Bad relief. And any female that is sffl'cted with Dyspepsia,
Liver t’ -mpiaint. Dropsy. Chloros s. Amenorrbcea, Prolap
sus Uteri, Leoc .rrhrez, Dysmenorrhnre. or Piles, may, hv ap
ply ing to me In person or by letter. And relief. IVrs-ms liv
ing at a distance, by writing a statement of tbelr cases can
have prescription* and Medicine sent to them bv M:ii.
Charge* moderate. nov. 13,1318. —lv*
DR. H. A. METTAUER,
HAVING spent a portion ofthree successive years is
this city, during which time he has limited hit
practice almest exclusively to Surgery, now respectfully
offers his services to the eititent of Macon and surround
ing country, In allth* branches of his profession. Office
on the South East Corner of Sd and Cherry streets, over
Mr. Asher Ayres’ new Grocery Store.
tepßT—tf
.J. C. EDWARDS,
Real Estate Broker,
WILL give prompt and personal attention to Buying
and se.luig Lauds and nt> property. Examining 1 itler.
Ascertaining the value ts Real I-tate. Renting I ropertv,
and al’ l us oeas ;rrtalni..g torn general Real E*tate Agency.
Ornca in 3d ttory up stairs. In Dr. Btiohecker's building,
die. 10—ts
Exchange on
NEW YORK FOR SALE AT THE
MANUFACTURER’S BANK.
mar 29 — ts
PATTEN & MILLER,
(Late PATTEN, HrTTOS A Cos.)
Commission Merchants,
IAYANNAH, GEORGIA.
O. PATTEN. A. J. MILLKR*.
July E 1858. -ly
JONATHAN COLUKS,
Late Patten, Oollins 61 Cos.
Will continue the
Commission Business
AT the Fireproof Building occupied by them in Macon,
In cunr ectlon with his son. W. A. COLLIN! 4 , and re
spectfully solicits the business of the Patron* of the l*te firm,
Sud of Planter* generally, pledging theD undivided afention
to all badness confidedlto their care. Advances made on Cot
ton and other produce In store, and oidere caretollv tiled-
J, tt 11.1.1 A j A nU^x,
Macon, July Ist, 1853 —IT
Obeying Orders.
A French veteran with one arm, wa*
seated before the door of his neat cottage
one evening in July. He was surround
ed by several village lads, who with or.e
voice entreated him to commence his
promised story. The old man took his
pipe from his mouth, and wiped his lips
with the back of his remaining hand,
and began thus:
“in my time, boys, Frenchmen would
have scorned to fight with Frenchmen
in the streets as they do now. No, no;
when we fought it was for the honor of
France, and against her foreign enemies.
Well, my story begins on the 9th of
Nov., 1812, a short time after the battle
of Wiazma. We were beating a retreat,
not before the Russians, for they kept a
proper distance from our cantonments, but
before the biting cold of their detestable
country, moie terrible to us than Rus
sians, Austrians and Bavarians put to
gether. For the last few days our offi
cers had been telling us that we were
approaching Smolensko, where we would
be certain of finding food, fire and shoes;
but in the mean time, we were perpetu
ally harassed by bands of Cossack riders.
“We had marched about six hours,
without pausing to draw breath, for we
knew that repose was certain death.—
A bitter wind hurled snow flakes against
our faces, and we often stumbled over
the corpses of our frozen comrades. No
singing or talking then! Even the
grumblers ceased to complain, and that
was a bad sign. 1 walked behind my
Captain; he was a short man, strongly
built, rugged and severe, but brave and
true —as true as his own sword blade.
We called him Captain Positive; for
when he once said a thing so it was
no appeal —he never changed his mind.
He had been wounded at Wiazma, and
his usually red face was now quite pale,
while the piece* of an old white handker
chief which he had wrapped round his
leg-i. were soaked with blood. I s-aw
himfirst move slowly, then stagger like
a drunken man, and at last he foil down
like a block.
“ Morblue! Captain,” smd I, bending
over him, “you can t lie there
“ You see that I can, because 1 do,
replied he, pointing to his limbs.
MACODT, GA. DQCAXLGZX 11, 1859.
“Captain,” said I, “ You inusn’t dis
thus,” and raising him in my arms, 1
managed to place him on my feet. Il*
leaned on me and tried to walk, but in
vain ; he fell once more, dragging n>
with him.
“ John,” said he, “ ’tis all over. Just
leave me here, and join your column a
quickly as you can. One word before
you go;, at Voreppe, near Grenoble,
lives a good woman, eighty-four year*
old, my- -toy mother. Go to her, see
her, embrace her, and tell her that —
that tell her whatever you like, but
give her this purse and my cross. That’s
all.”
“ Is thnt all, Captain 1”
“I said so. Good-bye, and mak
haste.”
Boys, I don’t know how it was, but I
felt two tears freezing on my cheeks.
“No, Captain,” cried I, “ I won’t leave
you “ either you shall come with me,
or I will stay with you,”
“ I forbid you staying.”
“ Captain, you might just as well for
bid a woman talking.”
“ If I escape, I’ll punish you severely.”
“ You may place me under
but just now, you must let me do as 1
please.”
“ You are an insolent fellow.”
“ Very likely, Captain ; but you must
come with me.”
lie bit his lips with anger, but said
no more. I raised him, and placed his
body across my shoulders like a sack. —
You may easily imagine that while bear
ing such a burden 1 obuld not move as
quickly as my comrades. Indeed, I soon
lost sight of their columns, and could
perceive nothing but the white, silent
plain around me. I moved on, and pre
sently there appeared a band of Cos
sacks, galloping towards me, their lances
in rest, and shouting their fiendish war
cry.
The Captain was by this time in a
state of total unconsciousness, and I re
solved, cost what it might, not to aban
don him. I laid him on the ground, cov
ered him with snow, and then crept un
der a heap of my dead comrades, leaving,
however, my eyes at liberty. Soon the
Cossacks reached us, and began striking
with their lances light and left, while
their horses trampled their bodies. Pre
sently one of those rude beasts placed
his foot upon my left arm and crushed it
to pieces. Boys, 1 did not say a word ;
1 did not move, save to thrust my right
hand in my mouth, to keep down the cry
of terror ; and in a few minutes the Cos
sacks disappeared.
When the last of them had ridden off,
1 crept out and managed to disinter the
Captain. He showed few signs of life ;
nevertheless, I contrived, with one hand,
to drag him toward a rock which offered
a sort of shelter, and then lay down next
to him, wrapping my capote around us.
Night was closing, and the snow contin
ued to fall. The last of the rear guard*
had long disappeared and the only sound
that broke the silence, were the whist
ling of distant bullets, and the nearer
howling of the wolves w ho were devour
.ng the dead bodies. God knows what
things were passing in my bosom that
night, w hich I thought would be my last
on earth. But I remembered the prayer
my mother had taught me long, long ago,
when I was a child by her s de, and
kneeling down I said it fervently.
Boys, it did me good; and always re
member that sincere, earnest pra) er will
do you good too. I felt wonderfully
calm wlnn I resumed my place beside
the Captain. But time passed on, and I
was becoming quite numbed, when I saw
a party of French officers approaching.
Before 1 had time to address the fore
most —a low-sized man, dressed in a fur
pelisse, stepped towards mp, saying :
“What are you doing heie? Why
did you stay behind your regiment 1”
“ For two good reasons,” said I point
ing first to the Captain, then to my bleed
ing arm.
“ The man speaks the truth,” Sire, said
one of his followers. “ 1 saw him march
ing behind the column, carrying the offi
cer on his back.”
“ The Emperor—for, boys, it was ho !
gave me one of those looks which only
himself, or an Alpine Eagle could give,
and said :
“ Tis well, you have done very well.”
Then opening his pehssee, he took the
cross which decorated his insido green
coat and gave it to me.
“ That moment I was no longer cold
or hungiy, and felt no more pain in my
arm than if the ill-natured beast had nev
er touched it.
“ Davoust,” said the Emperor, addres
sing tne gentleman who had spoken,
“ cause the man and Captain to be plac
ed in the ammunition wagons. Adieu ! ’
and waiving his hand toward me, he
passed on.
Here the veteran paused, and resumed
his pipe.
“ But tell us about the cross, and
what became of Captain Positive,” cried
several impatient voices.
“The Captain still lives, and is now a
retired General. But the best of it was
that as soon as he recovered, he placed
me under arrest for fifteen days, as a pun
ishment for my breach of discipline !
The circumstance reached Napoleon’s
cars ; and after laughing he not
only released me, but promoted me to
be a sargeant. As to the decoration,
here is the ribbon, boys; 1 wear that in
my button-hole, but the cross I carry
near my heart!”
And unbuttoning his coat, the veteran
showed his young friends the precious
relic, enveloped in a little satin bag, sus
pended around his neck.
£The minister whose sage advice a useful mor
al teaches, should mind and “watch as well as
pray,” and practice what he preaches.
The world should have its docket called, and
sluggards all dtlsulied; and those should be tha
“upper ten,” whom labor ba exalted-
Pollan Harp.
Hear you now a throbbing wind that calls
Over ridge of cloud and purple flake ? •
Sad the sunset’s ruined palace walls,
Gray the line of mist along the lake,
Even as the mist of memory.
O, the summer nights that used to be!
An evening rises from the dead
Os long ago, (ah, me! how long!)
Like a story, like a song,
Told, and sung, and passed away.
Love was there, that since has fled ;
Hope, whose locks have turned to gray;
Friendship, with a tongue of truth,
And a beating heart of youth ;
Joy, that angel-wise alighted,
Frequent, welcome, uninvited;
Love and Friendship, Hope and Joy,
With arms about each other’s neck,
Merrily watching the crescent moon
Slung io its gold nail of a star,
Like a hunter's horn, when the chase is done,
Over the fading crimson bar;
Where deep night blue had never a speck,
As pleasure no alloy.
Against the colors of the west,
Trees were standing tall and black;
The voices of the day at rest,
Night rose around, a solemn flood, [mood
With fleets of worlds. But still our merry
Rippled in music to the rock and wood;
Music with echoes, never to come back.
The touch upon my hand is this alone —
A heavy tear-drop of my own.
Listen to the breeze: “0, loitering Time! —
Unresting Time—O, viewless rush of Time!”
Thus it calls, and swells and falls,
From the sunset’s wasted palace walls,
And ghostly mists that climb.
A Faintly opposed to News
papers.
The man that didn’t take his country pa
per was in town yesterday. He brought
his whole family in a two-horse wagon. He
stdl believed that Gen. Taylor was President,
and wanted to know if the “ Kamkatkians”
had tnk<'n Cuba, and if so where they had
taken it. He had sold his corn for thirty
cents —the price being fifr.y-five—but going
to deposit the money, they told him that it
was mostly counterfeit. The only hard
money he bad wag some three cent pieces,
and these some sharper had “run on him”
for half dimes. One of the boys went to a
blacksmith shop to be measured fora pair of
shoes, and the other mistook the market
house for a church. Af er hanging his hat
on a meat hook, he piously took his se it on
the Butcher's stall, and listened to an auc
tioneer, whom he took to be the preacher.
He left befor e “ meetin’ was out,” and bad
no great opinion of the “sarmint.”
One of the girls took a lot of seed onions
to the post office to trade them for a letter.
She had a baby which she carried in a “su
gar-trough,” stopping at times to rock it on
the side walk. When it cried she stuffed
its mouth with an old stocking, and sung
“ Barbara Allen.” The oldest boy had sold
two “ coon skins,” and was out on a “busk”
Who* last seen he had called for a glass of
soda water, and stood soaking ginger bread
and making wry faces. The shop-keeper
mistaking'his meaning, had given him a
glass of sal-soda and water, and it tasted
strongly of soap. But “he'd hearn of soda
water, and be was bound to give it a fair
trial, puke or no puke.” Some “ town fel
ler ” come in and called for a lemonade with
“a fly in it,” whereupon our soaped friend
turned his back and quietly wiped several
flies into his drink.
We approached the old gentleman and
tried to get him to “subscribe,” but he
would not. listen to ik He was opposed to
“ internal improvements,” and he thought
“ lamin’ was a wicked invention and a wex
ation.” None of his family ever learned to
read, but one boy, and he “ teached school
awhile, and then went to studying di
winity. ”
Varying by Halves.
The Jefferson Journal, a week Bgo, tells the
following “local:”
A gentleman from Gaeeony, who follows the
pleasing and profitable profession of butcher
ing beeves, desiring t marry a maiden of his
acquintance, from the same country, got her
consent, and procured a license from the Justi
ce’s Court, and appointed last Tuesday for the
Judge to marry them. The day having arrived,
the Judge was waiting patiently in his office
for the arrival of the seekers after matrimonial
bliss, in order that he might bind in the indisso
luble bonds of wedlock the two loving hearts.
He was aroused from a profound revery, into
which judges are sometimes apt to fall, by the
entrance of the gentleman from Gascogne, who
said be wanted the ceremony performed forth
with.
“Where’s the lady?” said the Judge.
‘ She’s at home,” said the GaecoD, “but I
want you to marry my half, and that will do
just as well.”
“Cant marry you without the woman is pres
ent,” said the Judge.
The Gascon thought it was a hard case that a
man couldn’t get married when he wanted to,
and was ready to pay for ic, without the woman
was there, too; and told the Judge that “she
and couldn’t come to day, but when
she had time she would come up and have her
half married.”
“Won’t do; we’ll go to her, if she can’t come
here,” said t>e Judge, who had no idea of let
ting the marriage fee slip through his fingers
without a struggle for ik
So off they started for the bride’s domicile;
she looking up from the wash tub and seeing
her loving future spouse coming with the
Judge, undertook to hide, and ran and crawled
under the bid I Her lover was not long in find
ing her and pulling her out from her hiding
place. She was just as she left the tub; no
shoes nor stockings, her sleeves roiled up to her
arm pits, and her dress all wet with suds. The
Judge bawled out for them to face him, which
the poor frighieued things did, and without any
circumlocution he married both halves on the
spot—grinned a ghastly pmile, clutched his fee
in his unmerciful talons and sloped, leaving the
bewildered yet delighted pair alone in their
new-fangled condition.
An extract from a letter by a young lady,
says: “What were mankind without curiosity ?
Not much; and I think Eve the smarter of the
two. While Adam was dreaming she was
searching round, inquiring into the ‘whys and
wherefores.’ To be sure, she did g.-t into
trouble, but if Adam hadn’t been thinking of
self he would have told her to put away the
apple and be quiet, and she, like a good wife,
would have done ttll be wan’( looking 1”
For the Georgia Citizen.
SMALLEY TELLS HOW
HE WAS CONVERTED.
BY” BILLY FIELDS.
“ Sam, you was once a member of the
church ; tell us about your conversion,”
said Leake to Sam Smalley, a long,
lank specimen of humanity, as the afore
said Sam, Leake and Stubbs and myself
were returning home one fine evening,
from a sale at a neighbor’s, who was
about “moving West.”
Sam was about half tight, and conse
quently very loquacious.
“Tell ycr about the time as when 1
war convarted 1 ” yawned the old whis
key-barrel.
“Yes,” said Charley; “I reckon it
will be very edifying. So let us have
your experience.”
“ Well, yer see, boys, thar war a big
camp-meetin* over thar in Hancock ; it
war held by the Hard-shell Baptists—”
“Stop, Sam!” said I; “you forget
that the Hard shells never hold camp
meetings.”
“But I say they does, though ; and I
reckon I ought to know, when they con
varted me at one of them.”
This was a stumper, and so I let him
have it his own way.
“ Wall,” continued Sam, “ I went over
thar to that camp ground, and when I ar
riv, I tied my horse to a sapplin’, when
who should I see but preacher Saunders
and Wash Hamlin, —you know they
lives over here in Jones. Says old
Saunders, ‘ Samuel, come this way’; aid
1 went down in a thicket with ’em, for I
know’d jiss nateral like what they want
ed. Coz I know’d, when them two com
menced rummaging a thicket, thar war
whiskey about, sartin. Arter we got a
piece in the woods, Wash run his hand
under an old chunk and pulled out a jug
as weighed nigh onto two or three gal
lons. ‘ Bretheren,’ said the preacher, 4 1
aint one of them as says drinkin’ occa
sionally is a ’bomination, but I thinks it
ar wholesonie to take a little now and
then.’ And so sa'yin’, he tuk about six
teen swallows, Wash tuk about ten, and
I tuk somewhere atween six or seven
and a hundred and sixty-two.
“Wall, we then adjourned to the meet
in’ place, whear thar was a big crowd
gathered to hear our preacher Saunders
hold forth. Wall, he got up into the
pill-porch, and tuk his tex’ in Jeremiah,
whar it says, ‘Come unto me all as are
heavy laden and as can’t tote yer bur
dens much longer.’
“ And then he commenced sorter slow
at. first, but then all at once the sperit or
the whiskey, one bergun to move him,
and he just let out. 1 thought heaven
and y earth vere cornin’ together. 1 ber
gun to git skeered and feel curious, when
all at once an old ’oman as weighed in
the neighborhood of three hundred , fetch
ed a squall and shouted ‘Glory!’ and
then they all commenced. One old bro
ther grabbed Wash, and Wash like a
fool hollered, ‘ Hurrah for the Democra
cy !—here’s my hand for a thousand
years !’ jess like he does when he is in
town on ’lection day.
“ Bimeby, while I was sidlin’ round,
one old brother got me up to the altar,
for that old whiskey had got me so drunk
that 1 didn’t know but I war the preach
er and the hull congregation, when the
first man I saw war our General Jack
son, shoutin’ as if he war ’fraid co do it.
“‘Stan’ firm, Sam!’ stz he, as he
cotched me by the head and pulled me
down on the straw; and then the first
thing I know d —for they war’ kickin’
and rearin’ so as I didn’t know nothin’—
down sot that big fat old ’oman right on
top of me.
“ ‘ Oh, Lordy !’ sez I.
“ 1 Pray on—yer burden will be lifted
directly,’ said old Saunders.
* “ Right there the old ’oman’s snuff
bottle turned over and filled my eyes
right chock full. I commenced er groan
in’ and twistin’, like a d-g in hornet
time.
“‘ Weep on,’ said the General.
“ ‘ I’m with yer to the tomb ! ’ said
Wash.
“ I tried my best to get up, but it war
no use ; thar that old ’oman sot er shout
in’, as contented as a hog in a mud hole.
As the last trial, I cotched the old lady
by the leg with my teeth ; she fetched a
yell and riz. 1 got free and broke fur
my horse, and du-ned es that aint the
last time 1 war ever at preachin’ in Han
cock.”
“ But stop, Sam,” said I; “ was that
the time you was converted !”
“That’s the time 1 war convarted,”
said Sam, as he turned from the public
road up a small lane that led to his
house.
“ Pa, what is the interest of a kiss ? ” ask
ed a sweet sixteen of her sire.
“ Well, really, I don’t know. Why do
you ask?”
“ Because George borrowed a kiss from
me last night, and said he would pay it back
with interest after we were named.”
Earth's Angels.
Why come not spirits from the realms of
glory
To visit £arth, as in days of old,
The time of sacred writ and ancient glory ?
Is heaven more distant, or earth grown
cold ?
Oft have I gazed, when sunset clouds, reced
ing,
Wived like rich banners, of a host gone
by,
To catch the gleam of some white pinion
speeding
Along the confines of the glowing sky ;
And oft, when midnight stars, in distant
chillness,
Were calmly burning, listened late and
long;
But nature’s pulse heat on in solemn still
ness,
Bearing no echo of the seraph’s song.
To Bethlem’s air was their last anthem |
given,
When other stars before the One greiv i
dim ?
Was their last presence known in Peter’s
prison ?
Or where exulting martyrs raised their
hymn ?
And are they all within the veil departed ?
There gleams no wing among the empyr
ean now;
And many a tear from human eyes has
started,
Since angel touch has claimed a mortal
brow.
No ! earth has angels, though their forms
are moulded
But of such clay as fashions all below ;
Though harps are wanting, and bright pin
ions folded,
We know them by the love light on their
brow...
I have seen angels on the sick one’s pillow;
Theirs was the soft tone and soundless
tread :
Where smitten hearts were drooping like
the willow,
They stood “between the living and the
dead.”
And If my sight, by earthly dimness hin
dered,
Behold no hov’ring cherubim in air—
I doubt not—for spirits know their kin
dred—
They smiled upon the wingless watchers
there.
“ Hold on, Dar." —The Piqua (O.) Register
has the following,, in a recent issue, des
cribed an accident among the a^ves:
“Quite a revival is now in progress at the
African Church in this city. We were
present a few evenings since, and witnessed.,
with much gratification, their earnest devo
tion. Os the incidents we cannot fail to note
one. A brother wa3 supplicating the throne
eloquently, when another brother called out
in a stentorion voice:
“Who diat, pra’ng ober dar?”
The response was, ‘Dat’s brudder Moses.’
“Hold on dar, brudder Moses!” was the
diclatum of the former, ‘you let brudder
Bryan pray, he’s • better ‘quainted wid de
Lord dan you am.” Brudder Mose dried up
and brudder Bryan pjayed.”
A Wise Judge. —ln the Supreme Court of
our State, says the Baton Rouge (La.) Advocah i
a case was recently passed upon involving the
legitamaey of a child. In his opinion, Judge
Cole let off the following profound and astonish
ing specimen of learning and legal luminosity;
“ft is sometimes impossible for a child to know.
with a certainty, whether he be legitimately
begotton or not!” Immortality is destined to
claim Judge Cole as oneof the brightest geniuses.
Why he Didn’t Kiss Her — ln a new book
called “Heart Pictures,” written, we believe,
by somebody in Tennessee, there occurs a des
cription of a lonely ride which the author took
with a pleasant lady, the temptation that fol
lowed, and the heroic self-denial practice on
the occasion. The following brief paragraph
tells the whole story:
From Camden to Lancaster,a distance of thir
ty-eight miles, I traveled alone with Mrs
Greaves. She was a sweet and interesting
woman, —so sweet and interesting that fastidi
ous as I am on that subject, I believe I would
have been willing to have kissed her. I had,
however, several reasons for not perpetrating
this act. 1. I am such a good husband I
wouldn’t even be guilty of the appearance ol
disloyalty to my sweet wife. 2 I was afraid
the driver would see me and tell Greaves. 3.
I didn’t think Mrs. G. would let me.
C5F* The following we find in an exchange,
aDd as no one is implicated (!) we transfer it
for the amusement of ihose who understand ii:
The First Kiss.— “Am I really dear, So
phia?” I whispered, and pressed my bung
liug lips to her rosy mouth. She did not say
yes, she did not say no, but she returned my
kiss, and the earth went from under my feet,
and my soul was no longer in my body. I
touched the stars, I knew the seraphim:
The above is all of this deeply exciting story
that we can publish. The remainder will be
found in the New York Blower of April Ist,
which has four million more subscribers than
there are inhabitants in the world? Korn Kob
writes for it, and ’tis sold everywhere in the
world and out of it.
All papers that have published the two first
chapters of the “Hidden Hand” will copy the
above and forward their accounts to Bouuer, of
the New York Ledger, for payment.
Newspaper mortality.
Th> re is a regular mortality prevailing a
raong newspapers. Almost every mail brings
news of the death of someone. Tne chole
ra is not more fatal in a community than
“hard times” among printers. An exchange
that so far as it has noticed, not one
newspaper in ten survives the second year.
Perhaps this mortality is over-stated,though
we would not like to dispute the assertion.
More rnouey has been lost in printing offices
than in any other business requiring the
same labor and outlay of capital. The rea
son is obvious to those who are familiar with
the manner in which newspapers are started,
though others may look on in wonder
that so many live hardly long enough to
proclaim their birth.
Some little town wants to be blown into
notoriety; a subscription of a few hundred
dollars ia made up, aad kuov body u deluded :
by fair promises to start a newspaper.—
Probably one half the subscription is nevei
paid ; the fair promises are remembered only
to be broken. Necessity or pride keeps the
publisher at work until his money (ts be
had any) is exhausted, and his credit is ut
terly gone. Then comes (he natural resu t
—the paper stops, with debts owed and ow
ing enough, it may be, to balance, but nei
ther paid, and a general growl comes up
against the swindling printer.
Another frequent cause of the establishment
of anew paper is that some clique of politi
cians or local interests becomes dissaiisfie<
with the one already established. An “in
dependent” paper is wanteJ, which means
I the editors shall dictate. The sam*
J process as is witnessed in the ambitious little
i town is adopted and the result i3 the same.
Printing, as a business is like any other
business. There must be a demand as well
as a supply. A newspaper must be sell-sus
taining : gratuities destroy its independ
ence ; or as the organ of a clique it forfeits it*
claims to the public confidence.
For the Georgia Citizen.
ROMANCE AND RHUBARB BITTERS,
. OR
A NIGHT IN A SICK-ROOM.
BY AUNT JENNIE.
j “ There is no goose so gray, but soon or late.
She’ll find some honest gander for her mate.”
I have occasionally seen the develop
ment of a small romance very unexpect
edly, and have also witnessed comical
episodes under what appeared very ad
verse circumstances. Even in the sick
room I have now and then noted some
funny occurrences, as well as scenes of
thrilling, painful interest, calculated to
excite the deepest sympathies of our na
ture.
Mrs. Thompson had a little boy very
sick with pneumonia, and I proffered my
services one night to help take care of
.the child. The parents, worn out with
anxiety and fatigue, retired at an early
hour, leaving the little patient in the
care of Miss Nancy Briggs and myself.
Miss Briggs was an old inaid. I believe
it is considered polite, when speaking of
ladies of a “certain age,” which Byron
says is of all ages the most uncertain, to
term them “ old young ladies;” but as
Miss Nancy is no longer single, I may
be pardoned if I mention her as an old
maid. She was “ fair, fat and forty,”
owned some twenty negroes, and a good
deal of land. “ Strange,” thought I,
“ that she has never married.”
In the sick-room she was invaluable,
being a most excellent nurse—untiring,
patient and cheerful. She was exceed
ingly kind-hearted, quite intelligent, and
in fine, altogether an agreeable old
maid.
The attendant physician, Dr. Snap,
had gone some miles in the country to
visit a patient, but was expected to make
a professional call before bed-time. Ac
cordingly, about 9 o’clock he knocked at
the door, which Miss Nancy hastened to
open, giving him a gracious welcome.—
Dr. Snap was a little dumpsy, pocket
edit'on of a man, pompous and bald
heaJed, with an expression of counte
nance and features much like a “crying
doll.” After making a few polite inqui
ries in regard to our health—and a few
profound and original remarks the
weather, he approached the sick child,
and examined it with professional acu
men.
Said Miss Nancy, “ What do you think
t>f him, doctor? Is he any better? ’
“Well,” he replied, gravely and ma
jestically, “ the medicine has had the
desired effect in correcting the vitiated
secretions, but the child is in a comatose
state, and I fear there is not sufficient vi
tality for it to resuscitate !”
“Yes, doctor,” meekly replied the
spinster, with an expression of counte
nance which testified her admiration of
his profundity ; but do you think he will
get well ?” And she anxiously awaited
the reply of the talented disciple of Es
culapius.
The Dr. looked a little embaras.sed,
but replied that he did not think it likely
the child would recover; though with
such a nurse as Miss Briggs, he gal lam ly
affirmed, it might get well.
Miss Briggs simpered, and blushed,
and looked pleased, as women will when
the Lords of Creation compliment them.
The Dr. then gave directions in regard
to the administration of certain powder*,
bowed politely to myself, shook hands in
an impressive manner with Miss Nancy,
and left.
Dr. Snap was a widower, about forty
five years of age, with four children.—
He had a good practice, and was gener
ally liked. He had rather a weakness,
like most men of his profession, for big
words, and technical terms ; but, as old
Mrs. Spriggins used to say, “ He meant
no harm by it” !
After the Dr.’s exit, Miss Nancy and
myself invested ourselves in wrappers,
and prepared to make ourselves comfort
able.
As we seated ourselves, Master John
nie Thompson, lisping four-} var-old, .
NO. SO.
with au inquiring turn of mind, bawled
out from his “truudle-bed,” “Mith Nau
fhy, 1 want to get up.”
The spinster was fond of children, and
-vith the keen instinct usual with juve
niles, who seem to know intuitively who
‘sill be kind to them, all the little ones
returned her affection. Taking Johnnie
n h<*r arms, she seated herself in a rock
ing-chair.
Johnnie looked reflectively in the fire
* few moments, and then observed:
“ Mith Nanthy, what maketh Dr. Thnap
ook tho round? Hath hethwaliowed a
punk in ?”
She did not relish the question much.
‘ I’m sure,” said she, “ Dr. Snip is a
fine-locking man ; —don’t you think so,
Miss Jennie ?”
Os course, seeing that she had a weak
ness for the doctor, I assented. I did
not think him very beautiful, but courte
sy demanded the sacrifice of veracity on
rhe altar of politeness ; and it being the
•nly “story” I ever was guilty of tell
ing, 1 hope the truthful reader will ex
cuse me!
Johnnie’s inquiry was rather original
and novel. “ Mith Nanthy, wath you
ever a boy ?”
“No,” replied she, “ but I was a little
girl once.”
“ Well,” said Johnny ; “ doth you re
member when you wath a little girl ?
Wath it ever tho long ago 1 ?” and with
out waiting for a reply, he continued:
*‘Wath you ever married, Mith Nan
thy ?”
“ No!” replied she, shortly.
“ Did you ever have a thweet-heart,
Mith Nanthy?”
“ Yes, once,” said she; and the sighed
a peculiar, gruntmg sort of a sigh.
“ Why didn’t you have him for your
huthband, then?” And the blue eyes
grew heavy, and Master Johnnie was on
the confiucs of dream-land before Miss
Nancy’s second sigh was well out of her
. throat. She looked sad. She looked at
me, and reading sympathy in my face, I
suppose, and possibly curiosity, too, she
deposited Johnnie in his bed ; and, re
turning to her seat, made me her confi
dante, ralating her love affair—not very
thrilling, ’tis true, but of absorbing in
terest to herself, I suppose. En passant ,
it has been my luck all my life to be the
recipient of other people’s secrets. The
amount of love affairs of which I have
been made the confidante, is prodigious.
I think I’ll write a book some day, and
tell it all. I suppose the reason people
have sought me for a is, they
know that, like most of my sex, I’m a
capital hand to keep a secret! But, to
proceed with Miss Nancy’s narrative, —
really, as poor Neale used to say, “Di
gression is a runaway steed.”
“ When I wa< young,” commenced the
spinster, “ I was right pretty. My fa
ther w’as very well off, and he sent me
to school right smart, so that I had a
good chance of education for the times.
I studied Arithmetic, Geography, Gram
mar [she forgot that occasionally,] and
could spell and read as well as anybody,
and my hand write the teacher said look
ed like copper-plate; 1 don’t know ex
actly what he meant, but I know it was
a compliment. When 1 was about sev
enteen I had a sweet-heart, —I mean a
real sweet-heart. Os course I’d had
sweet-hearts in school before; but this
one made me my first offer. lie was a
young doctor, who had just a little while
before settled in town. He courted me
in the Spring, and we were to marry the
next Full. I had a school-mate—Sally
Doolittle—who always pretended to
think lots and cords of me. She was
always mighty fond of the boys, and she
took a liking to the doctor, and w f a9 not
ba-hful about letting him see it, even
after I told her we were engaged.
“In the Summer 1 went to the Up
G>untry to visit my cousin, Samantha
Bnggs, and staid several weeks. When
1 got back 1 found my sweet-heart flying
round Silly. He did not notice me
much, and 1 was too proud to ask him
what had changed him so; and I sup
pose 1 was cool towards him, for he quit
coming to see mo, and in the Fall, just
before we was going to be married, he
called for the first time in weeks, and
said as we’d both changed our minds,
we’d better break off the match. I ask
ed him what he meant, and he said a
person told him that I had said 1 had got
another beau while I was gone, and did
not care a straw, and never did, for him,
and then he courted Sally, arid they
were going to marry soon. I felt like
my heart would break ; but 1 made out
like I didn’t care. I knew Sally told
that story on me, and I would not dis
pute it, if he was fool enough to believe
it. Well, they married soon alter. I
had other offers, and once 1 thought Id
marry Sam Tucker out of spite ; but his
hair was so red, and his eyes so little
and green, I concluded 1 should spite
myself worse than anybody else* You