Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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