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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 *