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VOLUME 10.
THE GEORGIA CITIZEN
13 prCLJSrtED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY
L F. W. ANDREWS.
OrriCE — Ik Horne'* BnUdirut, ('heny Street’
Two Doorß below Third Street.
TKHM'i:-§I.OO pr-r annum. In advance.
t Avert! ..-mentw at th” rwru'ar ehsiyre wtll be One D>Mar
■ iiareof .n- Aw dred Kurd* <-r >e**, f r llw tfrt ittter
iwt >’ •>"’* t-te eh *uh*eqtt,t in* rtimt. Art ad
i,! not BKiMatot m. wil N tm ‘I
~m i cfaarfM actor ii'ijtlv. A 1 her .1 discern. t allowed
• ,tfcn*c who advents hy the yea-.
Ii naiup-MOti made iti • onnty (tfflcvr*, I
A * ■ ... r,. Veixunta, and other*, who may wish to nuke
*.
p r t -<i Mini ani Iti4m-n ar<U will be inserted un
der tiu ■ hext the roHoalnf rates, viz:
F- Five Poes, per annum, ♦A AO
lor ‘even lines, l
i rTeuHn n do 1
Vo ad ertlaement of t i e'aes aril! be admired, uni n | aid
or in advance, nor for h -cm t m. than twelve n,o.th. Ad- j
verti-ementa o< over ten lnt> will be e amed pro roto. AJ
vertteemeate not paid or In adv - now ar.i b* charged at the
regular rate*.
Ol i uary \olirea oforer ten line*, will he charged at the
usual rat *.
A nnoMPremmt* of candidate* for offlee to be ptid for at
the usual rate*, when inserted,
wnle* f Land and \e -reew. lty r swulw. Admnlrtnt
•r ■* and (luardians. are requ red by 1 <*r to tie advertised in a
P. it g re te. for' ’ dm previous to the dav of sale. ‘I heae
is,!. - must l r held on the fl t Tanadar In the m n h. between
•he boo aof ten in he forere o>, and ttire- in the af ervoon,
•t th Court house in the county in which the property is • tu
at*d.
wnlrw of IVwnnal Proper! * inert be ndrertised in like
a*aiin*r, forty days
Voice to Debtor* and fredltorw of an Ertate must be
publish and forty days.
Nolk-r b t a-i Ilea ion will be nimle to the Ordinary fnf
,1W to sell Laud and Negroes must he published weekly for I
two non ha
Cluj ,na for Letters of Adminlstra ion, thirty dare; so”
1 itmission rr.tn Adtni istration, monthly, six mon hs; fie
Id tniwiioe from Guardbi sh p, weekly, forty da- .
Kitlra for Fore r>—ln* of Hsrtra-tw, monthly. four
maths: orertab"sh ng 1 st papers, for the full spare or three
n. otitic; for compelling I les from executor* or edmitiis’r -
tors where a bond has been given by the deceased, the full
space ‘TI area months.
(Tlk Citijicti. |
(cnuragiant.)
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSE.
BY THE LATE T. if. CHIVERB, M. D.
There is an Angel in the house
Os every mortal born ;
God et-tuis an Angel to arouse
Each soul from sleep at early morn.
There is no soul however low
And fallen from his estate.
But God doth stoop to earth below,
To place him on his ancient seat,
Bv this sweet Angel of the house.
Beide the gray old man, whose steps
Lead to the grave, is seen.
An Angel with his fiery lips
Cheering his soul with song serene.
Tne yinle>3 child with milk-white feet,
Who treads on holy ground,
Walking towards Heaven, doth daily meet .
An Angel going her usual round—
This is the Angel of the Louse.
In peopled graves or desert wild,
w herever man Mhides,
In faithful wife, or sinless child,
Thi* Angel of the house resides.
With saintly patience, mildly meek.
She walks beside the brave,
And speaks what only angels speak,
Singing of bliss beyond the grave.
This is the Angel of the house.
Beside the drunkard's house of straw,
This Angel mav be seen.
Beading to him the eternul law
Or God's dear love with voice serene.
Night after night she lingers there,
Tm rouse him from his slec|* —
B .ting God's gates with pious prayer.
The while his dying wife doth weep.
This is the Angel of the house.
Thu* to the best, the worst of men,
This gift of God is given :
The lamb's sweet fold, the lion’s den,
?he visit*, pointing all to Heaven.
She meets her father in the path,
Tottering to reach the door;
She meets him at the hour of death,
And, afn-rwards, forever more. j
This is the Angel of the house.
>.n!c-- die lives, while he doth sin,
Tearless, when she should weep:
Tit-t- that her food may buy him gin—
Awake all night when she should sleep.
N • cloud obscures the face divine
Os that sweet .Star of I >:y :
Night after night doth sweetly shine,
With light that cannot pass away.
This is the Angel of the house. •
The Crown of Martyrdom she wears
In food’s great world on high.
B-*csu*e she rooted out the cares
Fr<>m th< sc who were too moan to die.
B’ sme she put in (rod her trust,
ibe gift to her wh- given
I” lift her husband from the dust.
And place him by her side in Heaven.
This is the Angel of the house.
t":< iV'Mn the couch of anguish sent—
from Heaven above) —
® kto the Courts of God, she went.
Full of the eternity of love.
it'i h- r soft hand ihc wiped the tear*
Out of the sinner’* eyes,
A'l mad** him live for many years.
ho now lives with her in tht skie-.
Thi* i’ the Angel of the hou-e.
On of dishonor >he did lift
H r husband with her love,
A'v| gave to him that priceless gift
(t . 1 give* her in the Heavens above.
T it- d,„. s shi‘ come the lost to save.
The found leave not to die;
!■ raise the dead out of the grave,
TANARUS” live eternally on high.
This is the Angel of the house.
Ch.rish this precious gift of God.
That comes to you alway.
To cheer vou in this dark abode.
Aral lift vou to eternal day.
Cl. ri,h this Angel of the house,
While .'he is here on earth.
Th tt when God's summons shall arouse
Vou from tout sleep, you may go forth,
And live au Angel in God House.
ilia Allegri, Oa.
How the Professor Got Ovt or the Well.
lew years g. Pruless *r—. ol Bo*don
’• %a* overseer of the building of the
;i‘t ivlm* 1 house in Brunswick. In the cel
•*r of the same wa9 a well woVtd with brick.
~ hiee sid were conaequent'y smooth. One
“7- bt-i <g left alone in the budding, he went
c-l Ur. and in his haste unconsciously at-
pt* dto walk over the well, aid a* uucon-
led i u t it. Here was a predicament
• f any <rt ie possessing no more in.mortality
;* n * college prnfewor—standing in five feet
, *a'e\ at the bottom of a well lixteen feet
m the bottom ot a deep cellar, wiilt no
j ! it ht-Mrii.g distance! Alter shouting himself
,r *\ he himself of a piece ofc‘ialk
r> rnnant of the last recitation—which he
- fN ’*d >o the walla, to a> lve hm situation
IIC Mau-iiiem of the question wa—let z equal
■'* 1 .siiaU get out; y equd depth of water; *
• i ‘si j, u le Waler; au d fcy means of
oknawk dge of slgebra he actually wurifced
r //td,, w,nderlully showing the power ol
T 1 ** Bot , ’ v ery ■•ft who has the wit to ad*
in a few years, those who have
c ‘„ lL ® wit,will be equally destitute of the moo-
For the Georgia Citizen.
THE POWER TO RESIST DISEASE
BY PROr. S. B. BRITTAX.
Health is the natural condition of the
body. I use the term to describe that
state in which the several organs are
sound and their action energetic and har
monious. Disease is the opposite con
dition, and necessarily pre supposes a de
parture from a true state of nature. As
certainly asall causes produce cor respond
ing effects, health cannot exist whin the
laws governing the human organization
are infringed, nor can disease be devel
oped where these are intelligently and
scrupulously observed. To sect! re health,
•herefbre, we must adapt our manner of
life to the spec.fie requirements of Na
ture.
From the manner in which the subject
is oidinarily treated by the unscientfic
w.>r!d, one wou'd he liable to infer that
di*e ises are cruel agents, traveling about
for the ostensible pin pose of assaulting
innocent persons who have never offend
ed. Many irreverently presume that this
world is filled with diseases sent here
by the Creator tor no other purpose but
to afflict mankind. This idea evinces as
little r°aon as reverence. The truth is,
disease has no individuality separate and
distinet from the organization. It is but
a temporary condition induced by the
infringement of specific laws. Since,
therefore, disease has no separate exis
tence, but is wholly dependent upon the
violation of organic and physiological
laws for its development, it follows that
to escape disease it is only necessary to
regard those laws. on need not gather
up your goods and j urney to another
place, in order to run away from the
evil, but study and obey the laws of
health where you are. The reader will
not, of course, understand me to assume,
even by implication, that the varieties of
climate and the circumstances of place
and condition, do not in any way effect
the health of the body. A due reaped .
to a'l outward circumstances, condition®
and relations, is of the utmost impor
tance. I design merely to express the
idea that a man is safe in any place
where the laws of health can be, and are
observed. Neglect those laws, and earth >
has no asylum where the enemy will not ‘
find you.
The present existence of man would
hardly be a proof of the Divine wisdom, j
if, with an organization the most compli
cated. proportions the m-'St delicate, and
functions the most mysterious and beau- j
tifuk he were surrounded with destruc- j
tive agents, whose existence he was un- ■
fitud to perceive, and against whose se j
cret attacks he could oppose no adequate |
resistance. Man is not thus defenseless.
On the contrary, there exists no evil for
which Nature has not provided a sufti
cient protection. Man has only to sum
mon to his aid the forces at his com
mand, and strong in the integrity of his
nature, he may walk forth amid a thou
sand dangers with none to make him
afraid.
I have intimated that man has an in
herent capacity to resist disease. In
what does this chiefly consist, and how
is the power to be exercised? In an
swer to the first question, I remark that,
it consists in the positive nature and rela
lion of the living organism—ichen in
health—to oil unorganized substances and
inferior forms. When two holies in op
posite electrical conditions, or sustaining
positive and negative relations, are
brought together, there is an effort on
the part of Nature to establish an equi
librium between th m. In other words,
a subtle fl lid cm mates from the positive
body, and goes out to pervade the other.
For example, if a ley den jar he charged
with electricity, and any negative body,
that will serve as a conductor, be pre
sented to it, the electric current will g>
out from the jar to pervade the body
thus presented.
In a less sensible, though not less eer
tain manner,the same phenomenon is con
stantly recurring from the contact of the
human body with external objects. But
the discharge occurs on the conductive
principle, and is not, th before, percepti
ble, as in the disruptive discharge from
the levden jar. 1 have intimated that
the human b dy, while in a state of
health, is positive to all forms <f inorgan
ic matter, and may add, to all organized
beings below man. While this condi
tion is preserved the in visible .arrow a of
the destroyer fall harmlessly without the
walls of the citadel in which Life is en
trenched. The enemy is kept at bay by
virtue of the resistance which his posi
tive relation enables man to exercise.
So long as the body retains this natural
cr positive relation to ail other objects,
it is perpetually radiating an influence
which must pervade and .act on those
outward ol j-cts with which it is in Im
mediate contact. Oa the. other hand,
when its relation is changed—when it
becomes negative—it is liable to absorb
the properties of surrounding forms, and
yield to impressions from external objects
and condition®. It f>llows, therefore,
that man is safe while he is positive in
the sphere of his relations. So long f>r
example, as the body continues to sus
tain this relation to the atmospherical
changes, we cannot take cold. 1 need
not pans® to discuss the specific
causes which induce disease in any given
example, but may confidently assume
that while the sysiem retains its natural
or positive relation to the external ele
ments and the causes that generate dis
ease, man cannot be siok.
But how is man to preserve this rela
tion, seeing that the electric medium is
ever passing oft’to pervade the negative
forms around him? I answer, the hu
man system is perpetually elaborating
and disengaging this vital electricity.—
From the processes of respiration and
digestion, as well as from muscular mo
tion, electricity is constantly evolved; so
that, although it may be passing in Inap
preciable currents from the living and
positive body, it is generated, at the
same time, in all parts of the animal
economy where there is either chemical
or mechanical action. Thus, as the waste
is continually being supplied, the body
is kept in a positive state. But the pro
cesses by which this electricity is evolv
ed are not constantly going on in disor
ganized matter, and where they do occur
they are usually less rapid; hence the
negative relation w r hich the inorganic
compounds sustain to organized and liv
ing forms.
Agreeably to this positive relation of
living bodies, we find that the skin and
other membranes are adapted to the ex
halation rather than the inhalation of par
ticles. In other word®, fl lids pass out t
through the pores of the skin, far more
readily and rapidly thin th *y pass in. I
am aware that some authors have main
tained that liquid substances in some
small degree, can be introduced into the
system through the cuticle ; and instan
ces are said to have occurred in which
life has been preserved for some time by
the absorption of nutrition, though such
statements may be questioned. However,
all scientific observations contribute to es
tablish the fact,that theabsorbing power
of the membranes bears no proportion
to th-'ir exhaling capacity. This is es
pecially confirmed by the phenomena of
Endosmose and Exosmose, discovered by
Dutrochet, and by the interesting expe
riments of Prof. Matteucei, for an ac
count of w hich I refer the reader to his
“ Lectures on the Physical Phenomena of
Living Beings.”
The adaptation of the membranes to
the rapid process of exhalation, while
their absorbing power is so very small,
enables the body to resist the influx
of foreign particles that might impair
the orginic functions, and, at the same
time, qualifies it to expel in a summary
manner, the impurities that would other
wise leinain and corrode the channels of
the circulation. Thus the body is fitted
by Nature to expel disease rather than
to imbibe the elements that generate the
evil. Owing to the slight absorbing
power it possesses, and the uninterrupt
ed exhalations from all parts of the sys
tern while in health, there is little chance
for the introduction of disease by means
of absorption. So long as the true condi
tion of Nature is preserved, man is in
vulnerable to disease ; and there must of
necessity be a violation of some organic
nr physiological principle, to interrupt
this original and essential relation.
From tne foregoing observations on
the positive nature and relation of the
human nrganismtoall inorganic elements,
and concerning the peculiar structure of
the membranes, I think it will be per
ceived that man has an inherent power
to resist disease. The fact of the exis
tence of such a power having been as
certained, I will now speak briefly, and
in general terms, of the mode by which
it may be most successfully employed.
The brain and cerebro-spinal nerves
constitute the grand seatof motivepower.
Bv the action of the will, the agent
which physiologists call the nervous fluid
—hut which we choose to denominate
animal electricity—may be distributed
to any and all p.rts of the system. Sup
pose 1 desire to deal a heavy blow with my
right arm; by a sudden effort of the will,
the nervous force, or an electrical current,
is discharged from the brain to that part
us the system, and immediately I am
conscious of a surprising concentration
..f power in this member. The same
concentration occurs in the lower limbs
when the locomotive functions are rapid
ly performed. The reader will not fail
to perceive that this distribution of the
nervous or electric forces is in a great de
gree subject to the voluntary action of
the mind. When, for example, I relax
my will, and thus suspend the electric
current, which gives to the arm its mo
tive force, it is rendered powerless and
falls by my side. But the moment
the subtle agent is sent there again,
hy tha act of volition, the arm is in
stantly invested with a positive power
by which i -am enabled to lift a heavy
MACON, (lA., FRIDAY, APRIL 1, 1859.
weight, or to strike a violent blow at
pleasure. Now if my arm is rendered
positive in the manner j ist described,
and thus fitted to resist an outward force
ac.ing against it, I apprehend that any
other part, and indeel the entire surface
of the body may be fortified in a similar
way. When the surface is electrically
charged there is no opportunity for the
admission, from external sources, of the
*
elements which generate disease. They
are driven back by the electric forces
that flow out from the center to the cir
cumf-rence of our physical being.
1 wish to enforce the idea that electro
nervous currents may be sent to other
parts of the system as well as to the
limbs. At first the experimenter may
find it rather difficult to distribute the
nervous power precisely as his judg
ment or inclination may suggest, but by
frequent trials and a proper discipline,
he will succeed. 1 will venture to affirm
that the reader’s first attempt to walk
was a failure. Indeed, we never acquire
the ability to exercise any mental faculty
or physical organ without repeated, and
1 nny add, unsuccessful experiments. We
have only to persevere in this, and we
shall suddenly find ourselves endowed
with anew and wonderful faculty. It is
the presence of this force which invests
the physical organism with all its powers
of resistance. Moreover, without this
mighty agency, even thought w’ould
expire, sensation would lose its Leling,
and life its action.
Whatever renders the body negative,
exposes it to disease. The activity of
the mind is not merely an indispensable
condition of its own growth, but it i®
necessary to physical health, inasmuch
as the body is liable to become negative
when the mind is wholly inactive. A
proper mental excitement imparts an ad
ditional stimulus to the organic functions.
In the hours c.f rest we are entirely pas
sive or negative, hence the increased lia
bility during sleep, to take cold or im
bibe disease from contagion. I recently
met with a friend who informed me that
some time since, while on a journey
through a miasmatic region in the
Southern part of the Union, he found it
necessary to travel much of the way by
stage and in the night. His traveling
companions were in the habit of sleep ntr,
though the niyht air was loaded with
miasma. He cautioned them to beware
of the danger, and on no account to slum
ber while on the road, as they would in
evitably become sick. They, however,
laughed at his philosophy and composed
themselves to sleep. One after another,
he left them all ill by the way, while he
kppt awake and finished his journey, in
excellent Ina'th and spirits.
The active, the resolute, the positive
man—the man who walks forth with a
fiim step, and an intrepid spirit is inves
t.ed with an amor more invulnerable than
steel. The dangers which have proved
fatal to others, will leave him unharmed.
If he meets his enemies in the way, they
retreat before him. The miasmatic ex
halations which sometimes pervade the
atmostphere are powerless to invade the
walled citadel of his king. He walks
with the pestilence, but an invisible pres
ence is a< ound him and he fi-ars no harm.
With the irresolute or negative man it
i® far otherwise. Hi® purpose, if he
has one, is shaken at every obstacle, and
w hen sudden danger presents itself he is
paralyzed with fear. Then the electric
force®, which the mind had employed to
guard the outer walls of its dwelling, all
rush back to the centre of vital power,
leaving the avenues to the citadel open
and defenseless. In this state the body
is exposed to invasion on all sides, and
the retreating forces of life are often fid
lowed by the agents of disease and death.
When from any cause the electrical cur
rents are derangad, withdrawn or greatly
i intensified, the extremities of the nerve®
become negative, or are otherwise ren
dered morbidly susceptible to tmpres
sions from outward objects. The audi
tory nerve —indeed every nerve of sensa
tion vibrates beneath the slightest con
cussion. All sounds become harsh and
terrible. The poor victim trembles at
every footfall, or turns deadly pale at
the rusting of a single leaf. The gen
tlest music of the night wind® is hollow
and mournful to the sense as the last low
wail of imprisoned spirits. Ilis senses
are all false to him. Where once he saw
only beautiful forms, radiant with light
and love, now horrible specters appear,
whose ghastly sm les illumine the mid
night gloom with a phosph're*cent glare.
Thedisordered senses form all aroundand
above him anew creation, in which every
scene serves to disgust or appall. These
are extreme conditions, it may be said,
but in hysterical affections, delirium
tremens and other forms of disease w hich
exert a powerful influence over the ner
vous system, they frequently occur.
******
Thus strange and terrible are the ef
fects produced, when from any cause the
body loses its positive relation. Noth
ing, therefore, can be more essential to
its health—more deeply inwrought with
all that renders life secure and pleasura
ble, than the preservation of the relation
which Nature has assigned to Man.—
To this end, observe the laws wh.eh
govern the human organization. Be free
in thought, be firm in purpose; be ener
getic m action. If you are beset with
dangers—never—as you value health
arid life —reiinqu'sh yourself possession.
If fortune frowns, be calm and you will
conquer. The man of great physical
and moral courage, if guided by wisdom,
is well nigh immortal now. The nega
tive man —the coward—dies a thousand
deaths, while the brave man dies but
once!
For the Georgia Citizen.
THE FOX-HUNT.
BY BILLY FIELDS.
Were you ever in a f >x hunt, reader?
If not, you have missed the brightest
scenes that cluster around a country life.
The wild halo, the barking of the dogs,
the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, have an
exhilarating effect glorious to feel, but
hard to describe.
One cold, still morning, Leake, Spikes,
Stubbs and myself arrived at Uncle Ben's
house, according to agreement. We had
w'ith u® ten dogs. Uncle Ben had five,
and about a mile from Uncle Ben’s resi
dence ihere lived an old fox hunter, who
was expected to meet us with his pack,
numbering fifteen—making in all, thirty.
When we arrived at the door, Leake
raided his horn to his mouth, intending
to blow a blast to awaken the old hero
of the whiskey-barrels, when the venera
ble worthy appeared, sober for once in
his life; but there was a great deal of
truth in what Stubbs afterwards said,
viz., that Uncle Ben had not had time to
get drunk.
“ How is yer, boys, this time?” said
he, stepping out of the gate. “ You and
Leake got any more ghost-tales to skeer
Spikes and Nd with b*f >re day ?” con
tinued he, addressing me.
“ I tell you, Uncle Ben,” said Spikes,
“you needn’t talk of my being scared ;
f>r the way you set down on that hard
floor and hallooed ‘Solomon and Gomor
rah,’ would have made most people think
you had seen something yourself that was
not exactly pleasant.”
“ Wall, the fact of the thin” is this,”
said Uncle B<n; “that durn pnnkin’ and
Charley’s long carcass wrapped up in
that sheet, a® old Preacher Grimes used to
say, looked like tribulation and sorrow,
ar and er weepin’, and er wailin’, and er
gna-hin’ of teeth,”
Just as Uncle Ben stopped speaking,
Ned came up with his horse, which prov
ed to be a d.fferent one from that which
he generally rode. Accordingly I akcd
him what, had become of old Bob-tail.
“ Old Bob tail have got the colicky, or
something else,” said Uncle Ben ; “ and
l have got to ride this ’ere prancin’ thing,
that ar as wild as a Buffalo.”
Here a baying was heard, and a clat
ter of hoofs, and immediately Stoke®, the
veteran sportsman, rode into our mid®t„
Ned now mounted his mule, and Uncle
Ben
for the hunting-ground. We had gone
about a quarter of a mile, when we were
startled by the exclamation of—
“Good Gi>cf!” from Uncle B*n.
“What’s the matter?” said Spike®;
“do you see anything like ‘triberlation
and sorrow ’ ?”
“ Ned, go right back ands tch that
bottle on the mantelpiece!—Darn it,
boys, I forgot the whiskey !”
“I® that all ?” said Stubb®, pulling
out a flask that seemed to hold enough
to have served a regiment.
“Never mind, Ned,” said Uncle Ben,
as w r e trotted off; —“ but I say, Johnny,
aint you too little to carry so much dead
: weight ? I'm mighty ’fraid you'll git so
cussed drinky, yer durned law, and po
etry, and—”
“ Hello, here—woa!” Here his pony
commenced cutting some of his antics,
having got a thorn-bush in his tail. —
I “ Wo-oa, you durned a®s!” said Uncle
Ben, as his pony reared, which threw
him behind the saddle. “Jerusalem!”
! shouted he, as bis pony kicked up, and
threw’ him over his head.
We picked our old hero up, untan
| glcd the bush from the pony’s tail, and
then Uncle Ben mounted again, and we
all rode on, and soon arrived at the
hunting-ground, when a deep-toned bark
sounded in our ears.
“Stop, boys!” said Stokes, “that’s
I old Ring wood.”
Stubbs and Uncle Ben drank to Ring
wood’s health.
Again the deep bay sounded, followed
by another, as the whole pack fT eked to
the cry of their leader, as ihe trained de
pendents of feudal times rushed to the
bugle-call of their chieftain.
“ Now for it, boys!” said Stokes, as
he slightly touched his noble blatk,
w'hich foamed at the mouth, and stamped
the ground, so impatient was he fir the
chase. I looked at Stokes ; enthusiasm
was marked in every feature, his face
flu-h and, his deep black eye sparkling
with excitement, he lashed bis fierj
steed, which sprang like a fla*h over the
fi-nee. Raising his cap, he made the for
est ring with a wild hallo, as he followed
the dog®. Charley went over after
Srokes. Spikes attempted to f >liow, but
his “old gray” shook his head despond
ingly, and refused to go. I took a lower
place and went over, and f<l lowed the
retreating dog®. I was thus separated
from the rest of the party, and soon lost
all hearing of the dog®, and w’as for a
while completely “knocked out.”
After rambling about for nearly half
an hour I heard tha cry and s’artcd to
wards them, when If und that they
were coming right towards me. So J
stopped and waited. On they came—
their thirty voices multiplied three-fold
by the echoes, around. It wa® clear and
still, and the sun, which had just risen,
shone brightly* Nearer they approach
ed ; my horse became unmanageable,
and attempted to break for the dog®,
when suddenly Reynard him e's appear
ed before me. Springing lightly over
the fence, he made across an old grassy
fie'd, followed by the whole pack. It
was a race that was a race. The fox,
hard pushed, made for a thicket; gained ;
it. The dog® entered ; silence for a mo
ment prevailed,—l knew that he wa®
“ dodging.” But again sounded the deep
tone? of Ringwood, and again followed
the rest. The fox again was pressed
into the open field. The fox passed by
me—the foremost dog® in ten feet of
him. Leake and Stokes rusehd like
whirlwinds from the thicket. For a mo
ment I was almost crazy. Lashing my
horse with the fury of a maniac, I flew
after them. I saw poor Reynard turn
and make a spring to cross a ditch , but
Ringwood had him. “Tail him! tail
him!” was shouted by many voices, for
many had joined the chase whom 1 had
not se-n. I rushed f >rward. By some
chance I was ahead; but my horse, mad
dened by the lash, rushed past like a
demon. Leake came n°xt, but he, too,
was unable to stop his steed. Stoke’s
well-trained horse stopped at the word,
showing well th; truth of the old motto,
that “ the race is not to the swift.”
We were all now collected except
Stubbs and Uncle Ben ; but we had not
waited for them long before we saw them
coming across an old field “tight as
bricks.” Here they come, at full speed,
side by side.
“Hoo iaw, Johnny !” cried Uncle Ben.
“ In at the d< a h—hoo—”
There Uncle Ben’® shout was cut short
by both horses stopping at the fence and
depositing their burdens over on the oth
er side.
We went tin to sec if they had sus
tained any injury, but found nothing
broken except Stubbs’ flisk. This wa-.
not looked upon as very serious, as there
was nothing in it.
“ Whar’s Johnny ?” said Uncle Ben,
looking around for his favorite.
“‘A horse! a horse! My kingdom
for a horse!”’ said the drunken Stubbs,
as we raised him up.
We placed them again on their horses
and mounted ours; and how we went
home need not be told, a® there is but
little romance in returning from a foX
chase.
IF I COULD HAVE MY WAY.
BY MRS. VALKXTIN’E ROBERTS.
If I could have my way,
AVhat customs 1 would break.
What fashions old destroy,
And nice new laws I'd make ;
Husbands should never fume.
And wives should hold the sway—
What blessed times they'd be,
If I could hare my way.
If I could have my way,
I’ll tell you what I’d do ;
I’d have the single wid,
And all the married true ;
No doubts should then exist,
No husbands dare say ‘ nay,’
Wh..t: er his wife should ask,
If I could have my way.
I’d have a law enforced,
That then no gentleman,
Without his wife’s consent,
Should stay out after ten ;
No wife should venture then
An angry word to say—
For ladies all are pleased
If they but have their way.
Old bachelors I’d tax— .
No mutter high or low—
They’d soon get married then,
Were taxes levied so;
Old maids Id pension well;
For this with truth I say,
They would not single dwell,
If they could have their way.
But ah! ’tis vain to wish !
So, since it cannot be, *
A word of good advice.
Dear gents, pray take of me:
If a woman’s smiles tire dear,
You’ve but kind things to say;
Ne'er fear that she will frown,
So let her have her way.
“She always male Home Happy.” —
Such was the blief but impressive ®en
tei.c •• which a friend wished usto add to
an obituary notice of one “who has gone
before.”
What belter tribute could be afforded
to the loved and lost? Eloquence, with
her loft ist eulogy —poesy, wnh ner most
thrilling dirge, could afi>rd nothing so
a weet. so touching, so suggestive of the
dead, as those simple words—'‘bS/te al
ways made home happy V’ ‘*< f* : .•>.*/
SAUL OF TARSUS.
We find in the Philadelphia Press of
Jan. 2S h, a singular document, which
the editor prefaces a® follows, and th
only portion of which our space will
permit u® to give, is that which seems to
be a griq hie description, by an eye-wit
ness, ot Saul of Tarsu®, with whom th
writer would seem to have been inti
mate. The whole article purports to be
a letter from “ Claudia to Eunice,” and
we doubt not the extract b.low will be
read with interest. The Press calls it a
“curious document,” and says:
“ All that we are permitted to say, in
reference to the following deeply inter
esting Ltter, is, that w r e have been in
formed that it was taken, by violence,
from a man named O'Connor, while he
wa® in prison in Dublin, on a charge of
treason, in 1799, and that it was said
that he had obtained the original, in the
La’in language, at Naples.
“ There is a sentence at the close of the
letter, written in some language which
we are not learned enough to under
stand, but presume that it is the ancient
Briti>h.
“It is committed to the consideration
(if the learned and good of every relig
ious denomination.”
We take un the letter in the middle,
where the writer and her father, who
wa.® once king of Sduris, in Brittany,
were held in a sort of honorable bond
age, a'ter having been defeated in battle
by the Romans:
“ One day, after we had resided in
R une about eleven year®, a remarkable
prisoner was brought from Judea. It.
was asserted, by the men who had him
in charge, that he had prophesied and
performed miranles, during the journey
to Rome, and, on that account, he was
treated with great respect, although in
bonds and charged with sedition. lie
via® allowed to go about with an attend
ant. lie frequently called the people
together in the streets, an I spoke to them
touching anew religion. One day I went
out to hear him. He wa® a min <®f small
stature when in repose, but he seemed
to en'arge in size a® he became excited
with his subject. lie had a high, bold
forehead, l*ut the other portion of his
head was thinly covered with brown
hair; hisbtard w*as long, and terminated
in two points. Ilis nose w*as aquilinp,
and his eyes were sparkling. Ilis face
was long and oval. lie wore sandals on
his feet, and had a blue tunic and a white
mantle. lie had an erect form and mil
itary air. lie spoke sometimes in Latin,
sometin.es in Greek, and when address
ing the Jew.®, he spoke in Hebrew. He
wa® evidently a Famed man and elo
quent orator. I believed him to be un
der a delusion, but no one who heard
him could doubt his sincerity. Remem-
bering my own situation and that of my
poor father, som*’ years before, I syinpa
thized with him as a pri-oner, and I in
vited him to our house. Whin he found
that he wotiW bo de’a : ned until his ac
cuser could bring evidence against him
from Judea, he rented a house adjoining
the one in wl.irh we lived. It wa® two
years before he could procure a h'aring.
On the trial no evidence was brought
against him, except his religious d.s
courses and practices; the*e he acknow
lodged and justified as a right belonging
to every Roman citizen. He was ac
quitted and set at liberty. In his inter
course with me he seemed always more
intent upon gaining information than on
t'aching his peculiar view®. lie in- ‘
quired respecting rny country, it® inhab
itants, their custom®, their language, and
their religion. He did not appear to
have heard any other than Cteiar’s ac
count of Druidism. That account, even
as applied to Gaul, is not altogether cor
rect. It is still further from the truth as
applied to Britain. The Druids were
skilled in astronomy, history, languages,
and many valuable art® and science®, and
these were taught to the youth of the
country, and to many who came from
Gaul for instruction. It is true that I
many who came for instruction in these
matters carried home with them such re
ligious views as they thought proper to
embrace. But the religion of Britain
was not a unit, any more than its gov
ernment. In the different kingdom® dis
: ferent views of religion existed. Even
i among the Druids themselves, there
’ were vario is sects. At the great battle
■ of Get Caradoc, the oath of fidelity wa®
taken by each nation according to its
own religious forms. I myself belonged
to the sect of Druid®, called, elsewhere,
fire-wor.-hippers. In our adoration of
the sun, the better informed always un
derstood that they were worshipping
Baal, the great Author of all, through
the worzdiip of his most glorious work.
We had nine moral laws, which sojoe
alleged were delivered by BsaT himself
to his priests. They were very ancient,
and were, certainly, recorded thousands
of years ago in the writings of Eolu®,
which were deemed sacred. These nine
laws prohibited murder, stealing,, false-
NUMBER 1.
hood, envy, and llittery, and * njoined
love and respect to parents, mercy to al 1 ,
’ and charity to the poor ad to strangers ;
but the ninth commanded man to do even
as he would be done by.
“ 1 gave an account of all this to th)
prisoner. lie spoke of his religion as
similar, in many respects, to roy own.—•
He said that we worshipped the sanu
God under different names; that out*
laws were quite similar, in many partic
ulars, to the ten laws taught by his mas
-1 ter as commandments from Goi ; that
these laws, tike our-*, prohibited murder,
stealing, falsehixtd, a id envy, and, lik)
ours,enjoined love and honor to parents;
that all our nine laws were taught by
his master, and especially the great fun
damental rule that required us to do to
others a* we would th.it they should and
to us. Ills description of the life, teach
ings, and sufferings pf Jesus of Nazareth
upon the cross, was the most impressive
and touching history I had ever heard,
fie then, with great tenderness for my
feelings, touched upon the terrible sacri
fices of human victims, which were part
of the religious ceremonies of the Diu
ids. These, he said, were not peculiar
to the Druids. They existed am >ng tin
Eistern nations, and he had no doubt
that we derived them from our Eastern
origin. But he declared that the great
object of his master was to n ake one
final sacrifice of his pr'ecious life as a full
atonement for the sins of every natiou
who believed and repented; that this
final sac-ifice had put an en all other
j-a'rifiees, whether the victims were hu
man beings or the lower order of*crea
tion. I ha 1 always looked upon our hu
man sacrifices with horror. I
c >u!d reconcile them to my ideas of a
just and merciful God. It is true that ths
victims were g< nerally persons guilty of
crimes, or prisoners of war; but if these
were not to be had, innocent victims
Wt re sacrificed. I wa< impressed by the
learning and faiih of the prisoner. I hu l
heard, from persons w r ho had come with
h m to Rome, many of wh >m were well
known to Pud-ms, of many wond-rful
things wh’ch he hid d'tne, and which,
if true, proved that h? was inspired by
superior power. The result of th*se
teachings and our own reflections, wa c ,
th it Pud ns and Claudia became con
verts to the religion taught by Saul, of
Tarsus.
“Soon after Saul had been tried and
acquitted, and was set at liberty to leave
Rome, he informed me that Jesus, after
his resurrection, appeared to his dKc'-
ples and commanded them to go forth
and teach all nations —to go into all the *
world, and preach the Gospel to every
creature, to preach repentance and ro
mission in his name among all nations,
beginn'ng at Jerusalem. ‘This com
mand,’ said Saul, ‘ came unto me as well
ns to the disci pi *s, hut I am espry *
daily commanded to prea<h to the Gen
tiles. As faithful servants, we are bound
to obey this last command of our divine
Mister. Your nation has especially at
tracted universal attention, ‘ihe Britons
hive become celebrated throughout the
world for th<s religion of ih'ir Druids,
the philosoj by and poetry of their b.tdi,
aud the arts and sciences of their ovates.
The skill and brave y of their warriors,
their arms, their destructive war tharl
ots, and their engines of ands lire have ex
cited the admiration of the bravest and
most skillful warriors throughout tie
Roman Empire, and twice have they
driven from their shore# the conquering
legions of Jubas Cse-ar. Durirg a hun
dred years they have maintained their in
dependence against the power of the moot
warlike nation of ihe earth. In the nire
years’ war, under the command of your
great father, the sufferings and bravery
of your countrymen have won the sym
pathy and admiration of all good men ;
and yet no one has carried the light o:
the Gospel to them, I will, therefore,
take passage in a t'hp from Tyre
through the pillars of Hercules—to Brit
ain, and the other Western isles, to and >
the will of my master.’ lie then thank
ed me fur the instructions I had give i
him in the British tongue. I replied
that he had more than compensated ma
by his teachings in Hebrew, and in know
ledge far more needful than either. ll*
took letters of commendation to some of
my friends in Britain, and departed. Ila
preached in many places in Britain, and
in the adjacent islands. It was not his
practice to set himself against the preju
dices and customs of the people, w here
he could do more good by a milder
course. Instead of attempting to ixiir
; pate entirely the religion of the Druids,
he endt*avored to reform and modify it.
The modification of their temples, under
his preaching, is a remarkable evidence
of this. The circle of itone columns
constituting the temples of the Dinids
were, in many cases, changed to the form
of a cross. This was done by the erec
tion of rows of columns, extending from
the outside of the circle, in a south, east,
and western d.reetion, and two rows
1 ieavinc an avenue between them, extend-