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VOLUME 10.
THE CEORCIA CITIZEN
l< PCBUSIED KVESV FRIDAY MoßNlxu BV
L r. w. A X D R E \Y S.
Omei- In Home’* Haltdim), Cherry Street,
7Vo Door* below Third Street.
TaW<>-§*,l# prr an a mu. la --*-|irrn
Ui- u char**’ will t* O-r Ooiiar
fir - t ,arv •■* *A” -rfrcil wrrf or <u. f r the flrct hrwr
km. jaA / <l* **■*• fur ecu auWquvui iiwnii*. ,i t | t*.
trttbou Ml* u-4 *|* ciSr.l ai 1.. I UHT. wi 1 1 |.uWUhvl nu .■!
drtW* aeeurdumly. A Uhrl iluctm I a!l.n* t -d
; , ti-i jlv*rti*e by the )y.
‘ u*nl mn*mrot-> tub with i Vrttr.tv OUccr*.
<■ •rcbanK •“? *hePs *t. wbti to m.ke
lUiili-4 ■*** .
lr. f.’-i >nal an I **it -1 !*-■>■ *'a rd< will he Intwrtn] un
*,*thi.tw.i l. t the (..U.iwiax rat**, vii:
)’•* Flv* kwMhiwt"!". SO®
lofbtettiKi, w. s• n
y.irTi Ito-*. *• iwtw
Su J 1 rttiwn wt.lof to* clawwitl W- ydn.it’el. uni. * juM
fr, ia arfnM*. w ft* !<?-• Iru than I eie mo\ tb-. A<i
o rb.• it*t>l*>l o**T ten tine, will tw c ar**.! pro rota. A<l
- iwots n.< l***"! ** In u*Bu- wil be charged at the
rat*.t*.
tMiuari \jllcea'? wr Urn h+c*. * ill be charged at the
\mimiur-iirnl nf candidates for office tube paid f. r a
tk* •ail rde*. when iturrted.
ealeai.l l-a'*4 and \etcrurw. by f zec’ilor*. Ad-n'uihtrn
tir* < .TP!bw,aft r**J hr !w t* br aifv*rti <*l fn a
miMlc t Iv| uy> { flviuu t (|ic *L4jr *A tair. i hae
M.i>* m i4 > the 3 .4 TtMlar in the run h. btiveen
hoO'*of ten in he awi tnre- in the af ernoou,
it Tit*- CcHi.t liniwe in the county in v. hich the property Uta
ftlctl.
oak* if IVrsnoal Propert* moat be adrctttied In like
ajnaer. frtT <Lr*
V.ti<— to IblHitn and Creditors of an bde 1.. u-t be
pa.-iiSkil Orfr darn
V.iir ■ rh.t t>, lien’ion will be fuade to the Ordlnnrv lor
I ear? to ..I lain! urd Netr .a, iuilc be |.uLllbed weekly for
two n.otf ha.
lllni.Ml* f‘*r Letter* of Adniinlatra lon. thirty lih*l; f>*
IdwiwaHi rotu AdinHtUtraliuu, lu nlbiv, U tuoa lie; for
Xti*tuid"ii ft >■> (Jiianlbi. eh p. wreklv, birty t!a\*.
K ite. I.w i'lirrrliwUi of Vlorliitr. luootkif. sou
■Nth; “IT ?.t it>.mh u* I id paper*, for the full apace of Hire
aeoith.; for c-eupellia* ii-k~. in.to eaecßtrw.. oe odniit.ie' r>- j
ion where a h.md ha. b<ea given by the ilcceaaed, the full
poc. of three ihontba.
.w
THE B3IIE Cf THE ’ANCTUM.
ataa x a .
Ajnin I that >n*Wir>p *tep!
lift rapping ai the dtxir !
T<><> well I know the biding sound
That uwhers in a bore.
I do not tremble when I meet
The stoutest of my foes.
But heaven defend me from the friend
Who conies—but never got*.
He drops into my easy chair.
And asks about the news ;
He peers into rov manuscript.
And gives his candid views ;
He tells me where he likes the line
And where he's forced to grieve;
II i takes the strangest bbcrtica—
But never takes his leave!
He reads my daily papers through
Before I've seen a word ;
He scans the lyric (that I wrote).
And thinks it quite absurd ;
ll.* calmlv smokes mv last cigar,
And coolly asks for more;
He ojiens everything be sees—
Except the entry door 1
He talks about bis fragile health.
And tells me of the pains
He sutf.Ts from a score ills
Os which he ne’er complains:
An l bow he struggled once with death
To keep the fiend at bay ;
Ou themes like those away he goes—
But never goes away !
He tells me of the carping words
Some shallow critic wrote,
And every precious paragraph
Familiarly can quote.
He thinks the writer did me wrong.
He’d like to run him through !
H-* say* a thousand pleasant things—
But never says, “Adieu! ’
Whene’er he comes—that dreadful man ;
Disguise it as 1 may,
I know that like an autumn rain,
lli’ll last throughout the day.
In vain I speak of urgent tusks ;
In vain I scowl and pout;
A frown is no extinguisher—
It dues not put him out I
I nif-:n to take the knocker off;
Put crape upon the door:
Or hint to John that I am gone
To stay a month or mure.
I do not tremble when I meet
The stoutest of my foes .
But Heaven defend me from the friend,
Who never, never goes!
For the Georgia Citizen.
TOTI BROW'S MtRTVRDtCI.
BY ACXT JtXSIK.
My friend Tom Brown is very fond of
music, and a good amateur performer on
the flute, but has a rooted antipathy to
the piano. Having a curiosity to know
the reason of his aversion to that inno- ,
cent instrument, l finally a*kod him ,
when he related the following pitiful |
tale. “Some two years since I went to
New York to buy a stock of Fall and
Winter go,*!*. Having laid in a sup
ply, 1 went to Saratoga to frolic a few
days. 1 enjoyed mysell hugely, as there
Were any quantity of pretty women
there, and as usual l was a grea* favor
ite with the fair sex, so I overstaid my
time, and when I d'd leave for the South,
I kft in a hurry, traveling day and night.
One evening after dark I arrived at n
smalltown in Georgia, which s-hall be
nameless, and stopped at the ho*el.—
falling for supper and a room, i soon
di-patched the form r, and rdired to tb t
latter. It was e* u t week, and the house
heir*,’ crowded, the landlord ►aid li -’d
hive to give me a 14 shake down” in a
little reception-r* om next to tb*> pallor.
Anything I told him, so I could g<> to
sleep, for 1 hai not slept for three nights,
except a few naps matched on the cars.
1 retired to my room, where a couple of
in it rases pi ltd on ea h other on the fl'Sr
with clean ► beets, and c>mf >rtah!e blan
kets looked reailyr iuxuri- U.S. \\ t’Urird
as 1 felt, and hastily undressing. I blew
out my candle ready to retire. A long
perpend.eular line of light attracted my
eye, and I went to examine it. It was
in the door. The wi**d had been split,
or had shrunk, leaving a long crack in
**ne of the panels nearly a quarter of an
inch wide, giving a pretty gad dew of
the adjoining room. It was a c xtifertably
i irnished parlor, and right in the range
of my vision stood an own piano, with
lighted candle on it. The room was
un ccup ed, so far as I could and
muttering to myself, ** I hope no one will
h® so inhuman as to set that thing going
to-night,” 1 crept into bed, and in ahout j
‘wo minutes ai.d a half, was in tha’ do
I'ghtful state of betwixity between sleep
mg and waking, when one feels the deli
cious Consciousness that he wi'l present*
ly be in the embrace of Morpheus, and
laxyly
murmunrg to myieif ‘*eoro
bunny sleep, tired Nature's sweet resio
r®r i I heard the door of the adjoining
r, **ni open—it was do*, and with a fang,
a light step crossed the fljor. Some I
t bol> mu td IheiiiMtive. a the piano,
sh* ffl and open the leaves of a book, and
c inmen. iitg at C M .jnr, p’awd the
sca!e.. .harp, ami fi*s M.-*j >r and fiui'h
inj; <.(T \v th the chromatic scale, which
j wa. very -tno..th!y played from the low
e.t to ttie high*—t C, of the s**\on octave
mstruncm with a t’ o on the |.,ud ped
a l , sound’ii:; to mv distracted cars like
•be loud and pr olonged howl ,t a ’lootie
• dspiitt ! | felt exceeding y ununvable,
in (act I don't know it I didn't .ay a woid
that rhyii.es to yell, but withal I till
some iiriosi; , to .ei* t |,■ perfitrmcr, ami
actual*d by a laudable desire fir infor- i
ma'ioii, uridi-r try.iig circuniMatiCes, I
, ro*:. and took ilsaTvations through that
cnv me-1 upertnre ,ilhivc meutioiied.
At the piai o sat a wi'li her biic
t wards m . ~f the i*>'t
g*Aceful tigur.-. I . iit *..-he <1 Bre wa j
attired in a b!ac* .i‘k with low
neck and short sieeves, revealii’” a tie< k
and arms •( p. r*ect symmetry The
neck was (air as a l:‘v. and gr :c tiiily ref
on her whi’e to il and iiiplcd sh n ders I
didu t blame her (or going ;>. fdressol.
Her arms were beautifully nui. cd, and
a. she rai'i-d her h inds in the air during
a staralto movement I .aw h- \ were a
irn dd for a sculptor. \ow if I have a
a weakness, of w Ifi. h these is consul-Ta
ble doubt, it is f r female beauty, and I
twolvi and to see her f ice, iff watched ail
night. i con'd have caught a part at
view of her profile, as .h • alight!) turn
ed her head in play ing on the upper
keys, had it not been f*r a veil wh eh she,
had tier! over tier head, ai.rl which >liht
ly project njr, hid the view entirely. I
i sto sl ami wit*eh and, and listened. Her
graceful movements threw a sort *f glam
our over me. Her execution was really
quite brilliant, tho’ as to txpression that
is another thing. Sh • play cl some dif
ficult |i;i'Sii's in one >f Strakis-h s
showy pie.es. with a vim, grabbing at
the keys as th ugh she was going to pull
them up by th” roo*. convulsively •
clutchu g about ha’f ad” Zen wi’h ore
hand and ( ur or live with the other. —
sdie crossci) h**r han *s so tar over each
1 other, that I e?;jec!*’d every minute to
hoar th” hooks and ey es burst • if her
dress, for it looked pretty tight. She
played \\ailac.‘s Conceit I'.dks, and
j bectineng excited with the enthusiasm a ,
musician Sometimes fisds, she tlirew her
* whole soul into her fingers, and 1h * keys
rattled and hilled, and quiver*d and
i roared, till it semed a miracle the in
\ sfrument did not fly to pieces. She j
played M- tut s Sonata in A, M.j >r, so
, dolefully it made the <*ol<J sh.v?-rs run
1 over me. and tiothit g hut a fear of sha
tiling my manhood k pt me from a violent |
biir-t of weep ng. She -a* g with a loud ,
sharp and not mens] oils voice, till mv :
ears tmg!*d. Still entranced hv her
grace, and absorb* and bv her r.eck and
arms, I continued to gaze, and long dto ‘
see h* r lo\c!y f*c\ I km w it must l>e
lovely with ‘uch a f nn. It was quite a
chilly night, the last of Sept., and my j
garments hieing rih*r airy 1 at length
awoke to a realizing seri'e as if icicles
were on my back. My feet were numb,
i aid leaving my pos tu*B, I hastily drew
i ou my socks, and throwing inv blanket
around me I re*urnd to my post of ol-
I servatiou j th * piano meanwhile rattling
i out out an a-toni'hin_r >cl of variations
upon a tb* me familiarly known as “ Mol
ly put the Kettle oil.” I was oblig’d ‘o
maintain all erect pos’ure, as I could not
l lo ‘k at the (air performer while sitting
| <lown, the apenure lu-ing only in one of
the upper panels. Meanwhile the clock
struck nine, Fas’er, more energetically,
more furiously fi*w those fair lii g-r.s
: over the key sos that tortured piatm.—
Still 1 retniimd at ihe door, standing
first n *ne f ***t then **n the other, and
occasionally *>ii both. Sometimes 1 felt
almost constrained to shriek aloud, or
kn*** k at the do*ir, t make her look
round, but 1 restrained the nnpuls?', and
remained a fixture, Fromeiheus-’ike, a
! t**rured man. I suppo-e there are nev
|er but s.xty minute* from nine till ten
*’cl**ek, l*ut eaeh of ih se in nutes was a
“ l*iike*l mi-ery long drawn *ut, ’ The
clock did strike ten tin. , finally, and the
last str-ke dud aw.tv, the fairy fingers
having had a “good practice’’ finished
some hiiiiiaut and startling chords of a
Fantasia ami the graceful figure arose
(Vom the instrument, oarelutiy cl*>;ed it
and taking the veil from her heaJ, tie*] it
round her neck. At last my painful,
but patient v gil was to be reward*d by
a view *.f that ange.ic countenance, and
what, did I care then for a cramp in
Uitli legs and an intoierab e headache?
She turned her face towards me, and,
oh. Ptxchus! whit a countenance! 1
wilt de*er.b it if I can, ihV I i ar I can- ,
not do j i-tica to it. ller hairs (they
were ami far between, itia-much that a j
loor.ai endowed w.lh patience might
have numbered them) were drawn, tr
Mkhnl back from a high penked fore
head, shaped like a pyramid, f fver each
ear whs a “ l-eau ei. her,” curled up like
a tittle pgsla 1. By the way I wonder
it *he ever a ight a b.-au ! Eyebrows, j
-lie had none—to speak of—or f she had (
no telescope. 11--r left eyelid was her
metically sealed, the eye as 1 afterward- ’
learned, (for she was the landlord's
daughter a* 1 found upon enquiry.) had j
been de-trop.-d when she was a child, by |
her falling up-m a pen knife. The right j
eve was keen, and black, a .and so small it
reminded me of a gimlet ho.e. and it had !
a sim-ter, -earrhing loo* thit made ine
■.brink hack, for it seemed for a moment
to l>e fixed up n my face. Her nose
was an mi mi tig ifed snub, turning up in
the air. and giving the U] per (art of her
| face a disdainful, scornful expression
peif etly torturing to a senilive person.
, Her mouth was ere>cent shiped, the
corners turning down, giving the lower
part if her countenance a dreary, lugu
. Ortons expression so harrowing, it made
my heart a<*he, an i brought the trars to
my eyes. The expression of the three
features combined, all different, but o
bbged to be united in one ph z, formed
i such an umque, comical, extraordinary
MACON, GA., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1859.
exf res-! *n that I had to ho’d my n*-e
and cram a corner of my blanket in
my m u li to k**ep from screaming with
laughter, though. I was in n<> laughing |
prefiearnert eith.-r. for I w,a th*r*>iighlv
chi M-d t’nro'igh, a* and ever ari l an<n f-l’
h *t fl'-lm- run *ver mo. > h mv head
and limbs ach’ and >n***lemblv, and wh n
the lov.-lv vision b-f* th** pfirl**r. ‘hec.-m
die in her lily hand. I threw’ mvse'f *<n
my cotn h perfeetlv exhausted. Th* u*xi
m*n ing ! was in n hip l f ver. A nhv
sieian was sumrn >ned. H<- l<*’ke.l grave
and well he might. f*r that night’s <’ii
ter ainmerit e*me near finishing me I
was sieV three weeks, and i—ing deliri- !
mis part of the lime, the T)r told me
afterwards he never listen’d to such in
sane raving of jnusio white nocks, with
C rb.’rii’ heads it A: •
Well. I fioslly riC’.vpr <1 anil proee- rt
ed h one. 1 found mv bns ness all
hnd hat (1. My clerks d’d not under
stand manag'ng mv afTair- and the re
sult wi', I l*>st, and miss’d gaining by ,
my shs -nee. two or t!ir*‘e th-usard and
lars. Ev r since. I dread the ‘ight and
sound of a j>ian**, and wh* n I eat late
suppers, ordrii k t*>*ni*ieh lemon.
ad*\ 1 am proii” to the n ! ght mire, when
the fornn.fi hat musical damsel appears be
f<Te me, stares at me wifhnospe* illation in
her gim-et hole eve. but with immense
tna'ice, makes mouths at me with her
orescent shaped lips, turning no her pro
boscis the while at an angle offirtr-five
degrees, till I awoke wii}i a howl of •> *.
ony, alarming the whole household For
this tea-on I have been politely r< qne-t
----ed to leave two pleasant hoarding houses,
thereby engendering suspicion in the
minds of those dispo-ed to be envious of
tnv pood looks and fascinating manners,
and I don’t like to put a placard, an
nouncing the fact that I have n chronic
night n are, induce bv a votir-g lady’s
cxces-ive fondness for music and mv
own admiration for preftv necks. S>l
remain a victim, and sufl’-r in silence,
bn f it is hard to hear.
T**m finished his hnrrow’ng ree'ts!,
and being *.f a sympathetic n tt*ir> | h*.'d
my handkerchief to mv eyes, id wept
profu-c'y.
“ DO\’T.”
BY T. S. ARTHt'R.
‘ Yon arc sober this evening.’ said
Mrs. Landcll to her husband. * I
hope nothing has gone wrong during
the day.’
Mr. Landed who had been sitting
with his eyes upon the floor, silent
and abstracted for some moments,
: roused hi nisei'’ at thso words of his
i wife, and looked up at her, smiled in
j a forced way, as he answered—
j ‘ Oh, no ; nothing at all has gone
I wrong,’
‘ Don't you feel well ?’
The voice of Mrs. Landcll was just
shaded with concern.
* Well enough in body, but not as
j comfortable in mind as I desire.’
* Then something has gone wrong,’
said the wife, her manner troubled.
* Nothing more than usual,’ re
plied Mr. Landed. The forced smile
faded away from his countenance. —
Mrs. Landcll sighed.
‘ Than usual!’ She repeated his
w* rds looking with earnest inquiry
into her husband s face. Then she
added in a tender manner—
‘ Bring home your trouble, dear.—
Don t hide anything Let me share i
with you the good .and ill of life.—
Did you not know that hearts draw
nearer in suffering than they do in
joy.’ . I
4 Bless your kind heart, Alice!
said Mr. Landed, a broad smile
creeping over his face as he caught
her round cheeks between his hands
and kissed her. ‘There isn’t any
thing in the case so serious as all
that comes to. I’m not going to fail
. in business ; haven’t lost anything
worth speaking about ; haven't
cheated anybody and don’t intend
to; it’s only this hasty, impulsive
temper of mine that is always lead
, ing me to say or do something that
leaves a sting.’
The cloud passed from the face of
Mrs. Landed.
i ‘You will overcome that in time.
Edward.’
‘ I can’t see that I make any pro
gress. Yesterday I spoke sharply j
to one of ray young men, when a
mild reproof Would have been more i
just ana of more salutary effect. lie
is sensitive, and mv words hurt him \
severely. The shadow that remain j
ed on his face all day was my per
petual rebuke, and 1 felt it long as-;
ter the sun went down. My pun- !
| ishment was great than his. But
the lesson of yesterday did not sat- i
rice. This morning 1 was betrayed j
i into captious language, and wounded 1
the same young man, and threw him
off bis guard so much that be an
swered me with feeling. This I re- j
i garded as impertinence, and threa
, tened to dismiss him from my ser
vice if be dared venture a repetition
iof bis language. When feeling sub
sided and thought became dear again
I saw that I bad been wrong and have
! felt unhappy aliout it ever since. I
wish that I had more self control ;
| that I could bridle my tongue when
feeling it suddenly spurred. But
temperament and long indulged hab
its arc against me.’
Mrs. Landed encouraged and
soothed her husband, ami so won bis
mind away from its self-reproach
es.
On the next morning as Mr. Lan
ded was leaving for his store, his
wife looked up at him, and with a
meaning, smile said to him—
* Don’t.’
There was the slightest percepti
ble warning in her tone.
‘ Don’t what V Mr. Landed seem
ed a little puzzled.
‘ Don’t forget yourself.’
| ‘Oh! Light broke in upon his
J mind. 4 *l bank you, I will not;’ and
| he went forth to meet the trials of
I the day.
Almost the first thing that fell un
dor tiu* notice of Landed was an im
portant letter, which after writing,
lie had given to a clerk to copy and
mail. Instead of being in Boston, as
it should have been, it lay upon his
desk. Neglect like this he felt to he
unpardonable.
‘John,’ he called sharply to a
young man at the farther en I of the
store.
‘ Don’t!’ it scorned to him like the
voice of his wife in his car— ‘ don’t
forget yourself.’
This mental warning came just in
season. The clerk*came quietly to
wards him. By the time he reached
the desk of Mr. Lauded, the latter
was under self control.
‘ Why was not This letter mailed
John V he asked.
The tone was neither imperative
nor captious, but kind ; and the ques
tion was asked in way that said, of
course there is good reason for omis
sion ; and so there was.
‘ I think, sir,’ answered John, that
there is a mistake, and I thought it
■ not best*to put the letter in the
mail.
‘ A mistake ? TTow ?’ and Mr. Lan
dell opened the letter.
‘lt reads,’said the clerk. ‘ three
hundred cases of shawls.’
‘Oil no; thirty cases,’replied Mr.
Landed. But as he said this his eye
rested on tho three hundred. ‘Soit !
is. How could 1 have made such an ‘
error! You did right. John, in not
sending the letter at all.’
The clerk went back to his place, i
and the merchant said to himself. !
‘ How glad I am that I was able to
control myself. If I had spoken to
that young man as I felt, I would
have wronged and alienated him,
and made trouble for myself all
day.
Not long after this a case of goods
fed through the hatchways, eruch-1
ing down upon tho landing with a
noise that caused Mr, Landed, whose j
temperament was exceedingly nerv
ous, to spring to his I-er. To blame
some body was bis first impulse.— :
* What cureless fellow lias done this?’
was on his tongue.
‘ Don’t the inward.monitor spoke
in time. Mr. I.amlc 1 shut his lips
tightly, and kept silent until lie
could command himself. He then in
quired calmly into the cause of the
accident, and found that special
blame attached to none. Opening
the case of goods, the damage was
found to be trifling.
‘ Another conquest.’ said Mr. Lan
ded, as he turned to his desk. Self
control is easy enough if the trial is 1
made in earnest.
A dozen times that day was the
torch applied to Mr. Landed’s quick
temper; and as often was lie in dan
gcr of blazing out But lie kept his
temper till the sun x\*‘iit down, and
then the turned his steps homeward
feeling more comfortable in mind
than lie had for several weeks.—
There was no shadow on his counte
nance when he met his wife, but
smiling good humor.
‘ You said ‘ Don’t’ as i left this
morning.’
‘ Well!’
‘ And I didn't.*
‘ You are a hero,’ said Mrs. Landed
laughing.
‘ Not much of a one. Theeonquest j
was easy enough when I drew the
sword in earnest ’
‘ And you felt better.
‘Oh, a thousand times. What a j
curse of one’s life this quick temper
ament is. I am ashamed of myself
half dozen times a day on an aver
age. But 1 have made a good lie
ginning, and 1 mean to keep on right ‘
until the end.’
‘ Don’t,’ said Mrs. Landed to her 1
husband, as she parted with him for 1
the store at the front door of their
home the next morning.
‘ 1 won t; God help me !’ was an
| swerod heartily.
And he didn t,as the pleasant eve
ning that he passed with his wife,
most clearly testified.
Reader, if you arc quick tempered,
‘ don’t.
Bhaimable Women in R. R. Cars.—Hie
II art foul Courant is < xc<-e*lingiy indignant
at some of the women passomo rs on (he
| railroad lines. lie says on theii Connecticut
; roA*b: —
: “Almost every woman claims two seals—
ore for her precious self, and one, to ue a
1 Virginia expression, “to tote her [’hinder.”
1 It makes no diff-rence how many men are
standing tip, the lair cioatnres must have
room. Sometimes some beflounced woman
(we n-ver use the word lady in stall acon
] neefion.) spread-* herself and her trrps over
four seats. She pays but for one. The con
ductors amiable men as they are, never in
terfi-re to j;ive every traveih r his equal
T'tey, p-obably. are too much hen
perked at home t’ make the women do
justice abroad.
“There is nothing that so stmngly exh b
[ its the u terly unaimahle character of a wo
man, as this rod, haughty coohmpt * f the
! right* an I rO’ii oris of • thers. A man who
-1 is in love with a girl, should, before he de
i dares h mself, witness bow she conducts in
i a crowd- and c.tr. Ii is a good criteiion of her
i selfishness. She wi 1 rn-ver make a kind
wife or mother.
‘ It is recommended to t 1 e masculines to
I form a ‘Men’s R sil ts Society,’ and compel
i conductors to give th* tu seats, when there
aiv any to spare.”
Skrvvp the Fool Right.—Five years
s nee, a farmer :n Illinois, notwithstanding
; all his neighbors insisted he was playing the
j Idol, set out on his tarm one thousand peach
trees, and this season he was offered ten
thousand dollars for the crop, which he af
s Id in the lot for fourteen thousand
dollars. Any tnan rh it w!l befool enough
to raise fruit ought to be served just so.
La hHi io’s Ipolugy.
ALnnicn.
Yonr coniins in last nidit my love.
Was sont.-tiiins sml.leii. i was helping Nell
To lie the rihhons of her i iguit-Ue;
She put the crimson of her mouth up—well
I'm th-'h ami Mood—:md then you singing came
Into the room, and to-t-cd your head for shame.
I saw a sort of maiden Northern lights
.Shout ill* your clieek -and treinhle in your eye.;
I like suefi things. ] like to see the wind
Drive frightened clouds across tempestuous
Hike the sea and when it's easily had,
Avery pretty woman—very mad!
I like the dangerous and regal air
.fVm oeara ijU'-.-n's n mo and non on yon are',.
V illi which you donned your thihot opera cloak.
And clasped it with a diamond l,!e a star.
‘Tea. charming m my mistress, hut my life
It would not Is- so charming in my wife.
I like wild things, as I have said, hut then
I would not like to own them. Who would l>c
Proprietor of earthquakes, or loose hurricanes,
Or comets plunging in celestial sea?
Or wed a maid that could, if she should please,
Dive him u touch of one and all of these;
Not I. Don't let a female thunderstorm
Itrood in your * yes. w ith every now and then
A Hash of angry lightning. You have had
“l our March and April, now !* .June again,
And let your tine cut eyebrows’ silken span
lie hows of promise to your favorite man!
I've had mv hutch, and you your pout, and now I
(You'll spoil that rose hud if you twist it so!)
Give me t.”th hands that I may say, “good Koss. !
The good Queen Itess.” and kiss you ere 1 go—
The good Queen Bess,whose heart, and mind and i
face
Teach me to love all women—ns a race !
So when I khe 1 yonr pretty eon- in Nell.
I honored one. who taught me to admire
Fair women in t'i”ir twenties—don't you see?
Bur then dear Bess. P i was standing by her
Tier lips .j'.iite close—now this is mire ,tout—
l pmi my soul, I made believe ‘twos you.
Tlte U sury Law.
The Franklin Review has a sensi
hk*article on this subject, From which
I we make the following extract:
li’tlie 1 ■legislature may fix the price
of money, why may it not just as
; reasonably fix the price of any other
commoility ?—ami if of this one thing
why not of every thingtlmt is bought
and sold ? Tims we might have a
fixed price for flour, sugar, coffee,
meal, bacon, and everything that a
man buys or sells. The argument,
that the ruto of interest is fixed to
prevent the rich from oppressing the
poor, applies with tenfold force to
the latter articles, for every poor
man must buy more or less of hese,
but very few poor men ever borrow
money. Look at the praetieal work
ing of the present law. A wishes to
I buy the wood, flour and meat for his
family, which would cost- .SIOO, hut
he has not the money, and he goes
to B and tells him his wants, and
asks him to lend him the BUK). B,
kno wing the law only ailows six per
cent., refuses him the money, hut
lays out the 8100 in such articles as
A wants, and sells them to him for
S-’OO, and the law says it is right—it
is only a legitimate trade transae
lion on the pari of B.
Il appears that our usury laws are
“based upon the presumption that
money always retains the same val
ue. This may be true of its intrin
sic worth, but money lias but little
value except what it has relatively.
This every commercial man knows
full well, and this relative value is
constantly changing just as is the
value of other property. A man can
afford to pay more for money when
he can use i! to great advantage than
when lie makes little profit by it.—
Just as it is with the price of a horse
or negro—if the latter can he made
to earn 8 kK> per year he is worth
more than if he only made 8200. So
if a man can invest money so that it
make fifty per cent, he can afford to
pay higher for it than if ths invest
meat only paid twenty. This ques- i
tion of profit always regulates the
price of other property, and also de
termines, other things being equal,
the question of demand and supply, j
The question has a moral aspect
also. As the law now stands it is
daily disregarded by hundreds and
thousands of men. The disregard of
one law leads to a disrespect for oth
er laws that operate unfavorably,
and soon all laws are set at defiance.
The progress of lawlessness in the
j country at large is a proof of this
| tendency. But it does even worse
I than this, for it openly encourages ;
deceit and fraud. It says to the bor
rower, after you have obtained the
use of nioiiev by promises to pay
an increased interest you may avoid
your contract by refusing to pay
more than six per cent and the law
will uphold you in the violation of
your plighted word.
Il appears reasonable that money,
like other property, should he left to
regulate itself, and after a man has
agreed to pay a certain sum for its
use, it ill comports with the dignity
of the State to annul the contract. —
An agreement about this, as about
any other trade, should he rigidly
enforced, and it is only when no
price is fixe*l that the law can rea- j
sonahly step in and fix the rate of
interest.
There is a popular notion, spys Dr. Nit h- ;
ok that an Irishman can dri; k whiskey.
It is an utter fallacy. A Scotchman will
drink them blind. A Yankee will drink
them into conniptions. lii'bm?-n are great
and unequaled in many thins; but wh s
key drinking is not ot tlieir accomplish
ment?. Whenever they attempt it they are
sure to be beaten. Invariably they get the
worst (fit. \YI y will they persist in at
tempting to do what nature has denied them
Ihe power to ixcel in? I insi-t that an
; Irishman is the last man who ought to drink
| whi-key. Tie* English swallow 32,000 000
I gdloris of spirits a year, and wash tie m
I down with oceans of hale, “alf-and-alf, ’or
por:er. The Irisii, even with the help of
their Sftoteh-d’ seeuded eoti-ins of Ulster,
a*e barely able to w< rry down 8,000,000
gallons.
“When I think of my loved dead at night
in the Uick darkiiP'S, mv thoughts dwell
perforce on the gloom of the grave, wnero
tlieir bodies lie; but in the morning, th* TA
are sure to come to me, with the triumphant
dawn, bright thoughts of that morning land
where their souls **ro dwelling, and s<* it
happens that those whom 1 weep tor at right
1 I rejoice with in the morning.
Mli> is King.
BV J. B. liATXABU.
There i- a host o( men who Ih-t
t *r Powder, t ottoii. Hteem,
But t-\*! V hour the tiiiidity jmwer
Os Printer's Ink if M’i-ii;
It moves the world as easily
As doe* soto** miyhtjf tbinsr.
And men proclaim in despot •*’ ears
That “Printers’ Ink is Kiti“.”
Tho man of jrold, of wealth untold.
The Printers’ Ink may scorn.
Nor knit lii brow, or doi<rn to )s>w
To one so lowly l>orn:
lint Printers’ Ink lias Isiilt its throne
Where iniud its tributes bring;
And God's most piftc.l intellects
Hhout •• Printers’ Ink is King.”
Kin” of the World of Thought refined—
No abjoi-t slave it claims—
Where superstition's victims pined,
It hurst* their servile chains.
In every clime in coming years.
Will men proud anthems sing:
And round the world the echoes Moat,
That “ Printers’ Ink is King. ‘
The mineral Seicurces of Georgia.
No 2.
Letter from Hon. JT. A. Cooper.
!To Vac Editor oj tfie National American. J
Deah Silt: In speaking of the o
! pinions of competent Geologists, as
I recorded in tho hook referred to,
touching the comparative values of
the iron Ores of Georgia, we ought
not to pass by what is said concern
ing the Iron Ores in Cherokee and |
Gilmer counties.
Os these he says: “Betontl the
Furnaces’, (Lewis A Ford’s Furna
ces) “ to tho North-East, the Ore is
found in even greater quantities than
before noticed. Upon a high knob,
eight miles from the River (Etowah,) ‘
is a greater show of it than I have
seen at the famous Iron Mountain of
Missouri.” Os the vicinity of Sharp
Mountain, he says: “The quantity
here, too, upon Sharp Mountain,
within six miles of the River, is enor
mous.”
Passingthrongh Lumpkin conn- 1
tv, he might have said the same of
the hills and mountains there.
Who, in Europe or America, that I
considers tiu so subjects, has not j
heard of the “ Rilot Knob and “Iron
Mountain” of Missoi ri, s > famous for
iron Ore? And we have greater
than those in Gass county —greater
in Cherokee, Gilmer and Lumpkin |
counties—and yet it creates no sen- j
sation in Cherokee Georgia—is not
known to, or eared for, by our Leg
islators and Statesmen at Miiledgc
viilo. • They are not even prompted
to appoint a competent man to ex- |
amine and report the facts!
Hundreds of thousands of dollars
are invested in Furnaces in different ,
States, relying on those localities in j
Missouri, to keep them going. Mil
lions of tons of the raw Ore of Mis-1
souri, are transported to Ohio, and !
even to Pennsylvania, and sold to
make Iron for the use of Cotton
Planters in Georgia ! We are great
er in these resources than Missouri,
Ohio, and Pennsylvania all put to
gether, and our own statesmen over
look it, and the course of legislation
is such as to drive capital and labor
from this region, and keep more of
this wealtli than Missouri has bound
iti the hills of Georgia !
Tho progress which individuals
have made in the development of j
this hiden wealth, is slow and limit-!
ed. A IVw, however, unspairing of
their moans, tlieir time, and their es- i
forts, have done enough in“/i/'o* > -
pectinij, as Miners term it, to expose
the Mines, and lead the Common
wealth of Georgia, to a knowledge
of where the treasure lies. Just |
enough to show what could be done ,
if aided by that countenance which i
! the State, having so large and deep
an interest, could and ought to af
ford.
The main progress has been made
within fifteen years past. Prior to i
that, or two small Blast Furnaces,
and those of recent origin, with as
many Primitive Forges, now aban
doned, was the limit of Iron opera
tions in Georgia. During the past
fifteen years, there ha\ e been erect
j ed six Charcoal Furnaces, making,
now, seven in all. These are all 10-,
eated in Cass county, to wit: Lew
is’ Furnace; the Fire-Eater, or Ford’s
Furnace; Pools Furnace; Milner’s
Furnace; Allatoona Furnace, and
the Etowah Furnace and River Fur
nace, owned by the Etowah .Manu
facturing and Mining Company. —
i All are blown by water power and
use Charcoal as fuel. The live first,
produce, annually, an aggregate of
about twenty-five hundred tons of
Pig Metal. Tho two last arc male
ing at the rate of about 2,000 tons
per annum The Pig Metal here
sells about s2f per ton. All of these
Furnaces produce more or less of j
Castings. There is, however, but
one Foundry with a Cupalo. This
i is at Etowah Furnace, habitually
I producing cast machinery and hol-
I low ware.
There is at Etowah a Rolling Mill
for Merchant Iron of all kinds, now
turning* about ten tons of Iron per
j day. Also, a Nail Factory with ten
machines for cutting nails; a ma
chine for Railroad Spikes, machine
shops, &c.,for fitting up—all propel
i led by water power. A Railroad
i has been built, and is now in opera
t tion, from the “Western & Atlantic
Railroad along the Lank of the Eto
| wall River, four miles, to the Roll
i ing Mill at Etowah, passing imme
diately by the River Furrace?. —
These Furnaces and other operations
\ in Iron, give employment to five or ;
; six hundred operators and laborers, 1
and affords support to a population
! of about 2,0U0 people of ages and
j sexes. Os these, about one hundred
are blacks.
AYe will next consider the interest
which the State, as a Commonwealth
has in the Progress of the Iron Busi
ness. Respectfully,
MARK A. COOPER.
Extract f.om Rev. Johu Wesley’s
Journal.
VOL. 4, PAGE 270, GIVING AN ACCoi'NT
OF ELIZABETH HOBSON S S’IKITI AL
M *NIKISSTATION'S.
Wednesday, ‘Jo, mid the two follow,
i’ gdtys, boiig at SunderLu.d, I took
down, Iron one *ho had ffard G and
| from her infancy, one of the strangest
accounts i ever read; and yet I can find
no pretence to disbelieve it. The well
known (hiraetor of the person excludes
all suspicion of fraud ; and the nature of
the circumstances themselves excludes
i ‘he jMissilnlity of a delusion. It- is true
there are several of them which 1 do not
i comprehend ; but this is with n a very
slender objection ; for what is it which
1 do comprehend, even of the things 1
*ee daily. Truly not
The smallest grain of iuif?, or spire of
! ki ownothow the one grows, or how
j the particle? of the other cohere togeth
•r. What pretence h ive I then to deny
well attested Gets, because 1 cannot
•ompreli. ml them? it is true likewise,
thit the Engl sh in general, and indeed
. most, of ihe men * f learning in Europe,
have given up all accounts f witches
and apparitions, as mere old wives’ la
ble-. lam sorry for it ; and I willingly
; take this opportunity of entering my
1 solemn protest against this violent com
! pliment which so many that believe the
Bible pay to those who do n*>t believe it.
1 owe ihem no such service. 1 take
knowbdge, these are at the bottom of
the outcry which has been raised, and
with S'lch insolence spread throuuhoui
theuati’ n. in direct opposition not only
t<* the B bie, but to the suffrage of ihe
wisest and best of men in all ages and
nat oris. They well know, (whether
Christians know it or not.) that the giv
i ing up wiuherafr, is, in Gleet, giving up
tho Bible; and >hev know, oil the other
i hand, that it but one account flf ihe in-
men with spirits be admit
, ted, I heir w hole c i-lle in the air ( Deism,
Atheism, Materialism.) falls to the
ground. I know no reason, therefore,
why we sh uUI sufi'r even this weapon
ito be wrested out of our hand?. Indeed
j thire are numerous arguments besides,
which abundantly confute their vain im
agination?. Bat we need not be hooted
out of one ; neither reason nor religion
require th'?.
One of the capital objections to all
iheae accounts, which I have known urg
ed over and over, is this, “D'd you ever
s*e an apparition yourself?” No; nor
did I ever see a murder; yet 1 believe
there i? such a thing; yea, and that in
| one place or another mu r der is commit- ’
! ted every day. Therefore I oatino% ns j
a reasonable man, denv ill? fact; al
though I never saw if. and perhaps never
tmy. The testimony of unexceptional
able witnesses fully convine*** me both
of the one and tin other. Bit to set
this a?ide, it has been confidently alleg
ed, that many of these have seen their
error, and have been clesrly convinced
that the supposed preternatural opera
tion wa? the mere c mtriviuiee of n’ tful
men. The fain >us instance of lifs,
which ha? been spread far and wide, was j
the drummmg in Mr. Monrpesson’s
house at Ted worth ; w ho, it was said,
acknowledged it was all a trick, nd that
h* hid fund out the whole contrivance, i
Not so; my eldest brother, then nt
Chri-t church, Oxon, inquired of Mr.
Monpesson, his fellow collegian, wheth
er his father had nck*owle god ihis or
not. lie answered, “The resort of gen
tlemen to my father’s house was so
great, he could not bear the expense.
He, therefore, took no pains to confute
the report that he had (mind out ihe
cheat ; although lie, and I, and all the
family, knew tho account wlfoh was
published lobe punctually true.”
This premised, I proceed to as re- :
maskable a narrative as any that has
fdbn under my notice. The reader may i
believe it if he pleases, or may di>bc- i
lieve It. without any <.IT-nee tome. 1
hive added a few Giort remark?, which
rniv make some passages a little more
intelligible.
1. Eiiztheth Hobson wa? born in
Sun.ler and, in the year 1744 IIer ;
father dying when she was three or four
years old ; her undo, Thomas Ilea, a
nious man, brougli'. !mr up as his own
daughter. She was serious from a child,
and grew up in the fear of G*.d. Yet
she had deep and sharp conviction? of
sin, till she was about sixteen venrs
of age, when she found peace with
God, and from that time the whole
tenor of her behaviour was suitable
to her profession.
On Wedne&ilay, May 2), 1768, and
the three following days, J talked
with her at large ; but it was with
great difficulty I prevailed on her
to speak. The substance of what
she said was as follows :
“2. From my childhood, when one
of our neighbors died, whether men,
women, or children, 1 used to see
them, either just when they died, or
a little before; and I was not frigh
tened at all, it was so common. Indeed
many times I did not then know
they were dead. I saw many of
them ly day, many by night. Those
that came when it was dark brought
light with them. I observed all lit
tle children, and many grown persons
had a bright, glorious light round
them. But many* had a gloomv,
dismal light, and a dusky cloud over
them.
“3. When I told my uncle this, he
did not seem to be at all surprised
at it ; but at several times he said,
j ‘ho not afraid; only take care to tear
and serve God. As King as ho is on
your side none will lie able to hurt
you.’ At othertimes lie said, (drop
ping a word now and then, but sel
dom answering me any questions
about it,) ‘Evil spirits very seldom
appear, but between eleven at night
and two in the morning ; but after
wards they frequently come in the
NUMBER 32*
, * day time. \\ batcver spirits, good or
j bad, come in the day, they come at
sunrise, at noon, or at fetinvet.’
‘*4. When 1 wu between twelve
and thirteen, my nnele had a lod
ger, who was a very wicked man.
One night I was sitting in niv cham
ber, about half hour after ten, having
by accident put out my candle, when
he came in, all over in a flame. 1
cried out, ‘William, why do you
come in so to fright me V lie said
nothing, but went away. 1 went al
ter him into his room, but found he
was fast asleep in bed. A day or
two alter, he fell ill, and, within the
week died in raging despair.
“b. I was between fourteen and
fifteen, when I went very early one
morning to fetch up the kine, I
had two fields to cross, into a low
ground which was said to be haunt,
ed. 31 any persons hud been fright
ed there, anti 1 had myself often seen
men and women, (so many, at times,
that they are out of count) go just
by me, and vanish away. This
morning as I came toward it, I
heard a confused noise, as of man v
people quarrelling, lint 1 did not
mind it, and wofit on till I came near
the gate. 1 then saw on the other
side, a young man dressed in purple,
who said, ‘Jt is too early ; go hack
from whence you came. The Lord
he with you, and bless you and
presently he was gone.
“fi. When I was about sixteen,
1 my nnele fell ill, and grew worse for
three months. One day, having
been sent out on an errand, I was
coming home through a lane, when
1 saw him in the field, coming swift
ly toward me. I ran to meet him ;
but lie was gone. When I came
home, I found him calling for me.
As soon as I came to his bedside, he
i clasped bis arms round my neck,
and, bursting into tears, earnestly ex
horted me to continue in the ways of
God. Ue kept bis hold, till he sunk
down and died ; and even then they
could hardly unclasp his fingers. I
would fain have died with hirn, and
wished to be buried with him, dead
or alive.
“7. From that time I was crying
from morning to night, and praying
i that I might see him. 1 grew weak
er and weaker, till, one morning,
about one o'clock,as I was lying cry
ing, as usual, 1 heard some noise,
and rising up, saw him come to the
bedside. He looked much displeas
ed, shook his head at me. and in a
minute or two went away.
“and. About a week after, I took iny
bed, and grew worse and worse ;
till, in six or seven days, my life was
. despaired©!*. Then,about eleven at
night, my uncle came in, looking
well pleased, and sat down on the
bedside, lie came every night after
at the same time, and stayed till
cock-crowing. 1 was exceedingly
glad, and kept my eyes fixed upon
him all the time he stayed. If I want
ed drink or anything, though 1 did
not speak or stir, lie fetched it, ami
set it on the chair, by the bedside.
Indeed 1 could not sj>eak ; many
times 1 strove, but coukl not move
my tongue. Every morning, when
he went away, h*> waved his hand to
me. and 1 heard delightful music, as
if many persons were tinging to
gether.
“Ik In about six weeks I grow bet
ter. 1 was then musing one night,
whether I did well in desiring ho
might come ; and I was praying
that (.tod would do his own will when
lie came in, and stood by the bed
side. But be was not in bis usual
dress; be had on a white robe, which
reached down to his teet. ILe looked
quite pleased. About one, there
stood by him a person, in white, tall
er than him, and exceedingly beau
tiful. lie came with the singing as
of many voices, and continued till
near cock-crowing. Then my uncle
smiled, and waved his band toward
me twice or thrice. They went
away with inexpressibly sweet mu
sic, and 1 saw him no more.
‘TO. in a year after this, a young
man courted me, and in some months
we agreed to lie married. But he
proposed to take another voyage
first, and one evening went aboard
bin ship. About eleven o’clock, go
ing out to look for my mother, I saw
him standing at his mother’s door,
with his hands in his pockets, and
his hat pulled over his eyes. I went
to him, and reached my hand to put
up his hat ; lmt lie went swiftly by
me, and I saw the wall,on the oth
er side of the lane, part; as he went
through, and then immediately close
after him. At ten, the next morn,
iug he died.
“11. A tew days after, John Simp
son, one of our neighbors, a man
that truly feared God, and one with
whom I was particularly acquainted,
went t sea, as usual, lie sailed out
on Tuesday. The Friday night fol
lowing, between eleven and twelve
o'clock, I heard one walking in mj’
room and every step sounded as if
he was stepping in water, lie then
; came to the bedside, in bis sea jack
et, all wet, and (stretched his hand
over me. Three drops of water fell
on mv breast, and felt as cold as ice.
I strove to wake bis wife, who lay
with me; but I could not, anv* more
than if she was dead. Afterwards I
beard he was cast away that night,
in less than a minute he wont away;
but lie came to me every night, for
six or seven nights following, l>e
tween eleven and two. Before he
came, and when he went away, I ni.
wavs beard sweet music. After
ward he came 1 *ot 1 i day and night j
every night about twelve, with the
music at bis coining and going, and
1 everv (lav at sunrise, uoun and suu*
V *