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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-