Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 10.
FALL GOODS! *
LARGE STOCK!
Cheap Prices and
ELEGANT GOODS
BOSS, COM & EDS’
“BAZAAR OF FASHION.”
V E *°" r n **” re * I -‘ ! ■*’ rer-'v.uj tlie lar^wt
>\ ittnc i* stocs of ilcb.eircaul
DRESS GOODS
that II lire (wen r t4***a- and pristi*** to offer to a fk>!<
luukMe w*rl*t- To *>’ Lat
OUR STOCK
IS RICH AND GORGEOUS
reread hi tenth a*i'r >nt*onli, at 1 noth
u u nmlril Ikt tti- It watt <4 the
LATEST GE3IS
to call and see for Our tUdt of
STAPLE GOODS
wat i.eeer before to cof.pitte, and when we add oar
CARPET DEPARTMENT,
whica dbplaft tvely gru\* and style, we nrc prepared to
m*J Utal
OUR STOCK,
u a wh'de, present* a wttt a ettr.d a. I* 5*
LARGE & ATTRACTIVE.
c VLL aa4 allow tit the pteaMirc to show T"U oar stuck :
ROSS, CO LEM At” A* ROSS,
Cotton A venae, i
Sept JS-wtf. Macr.a. Gn
pr “I're*..” ••Sle#eenr. r.“ard “TrVpi’ ti~ rr-r* wiak'y
SIOO REWAKI)!
HORSE STOLEN!
CTOLKN fr*m my utr-ie, thre m Irt tr* m Mac *o, on the
Hun4< R 4. on the r>t*ht us tbs I.t. iM.. a I Hark Hay
!i wl:tt a biie Mtip tit h' ne. vlilt fa eye#, two
# Ute feet (ft* aw nect>i!*Wti). 5 or 6 yean old. medium
•u, veiyihUbtl tMly. The oU.re reward wil. he paid :#r
the Uid and ht>re with tbffli.rnt to CMivte', or
Taeoiy-flvc DUUri for the h** alone
oct?*—4t moitt b. atapHiKomy.
TO THE PLANTERS OF GEORGIA.
WEST fce GODFREY,
AGES rs OF THE
Planters* Association of Ga.,
Will continue to represent their friends
in tJw stile of Produce mt Sneanneih.
rpiIASKt ri.KWiUe ptlroun of the srf mam. ther
l take this re canton to Worm llw Flatter* of Geu;i t that
they are now ready to wait uj> tb.ni it the en-aiac S,a
*<>. and trust by etrtct and fa ih*i I attention to biwMit, to
Civc utlvet.d aiithcii tit* all wb* may favor *bem .1 h
erwtthOu*nn<eti*ofCi*tfa. *lne-. hkt, V.. r with
order, for the pa-clisae us Family and Fiat.tat on u; eiiea.
jt. B —C.emnL-nion on the .’e of Cotton, So cruu pr bale,
ml uetoiaary rates lor other produce.
DvAAO C WEFT,
JAMES E GODFRKT.
‘■avaanah. A'lf. 57. !s r *F.—to J-n. 1, I SO.
•ANOTHER WANDERER NEGRO.’
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD!
T WILL five fifty Pollan fur the n and xaft*
J. Mvm to me of my uuii who ha* beta **ft
wander*-r” for the ia.4 twelve months. and ait euttal amount
f*r the coavidimt of anv white man who br -r him.— I
John 1* ah eat 45 year* old. *f lark complealoti, about flee
feet nine iach* hhth i and musrular. lias a very heavy
ch< and rijrb pc**hahty i.-w lt: Tbeie i a artwuitrb>
•i*ed irttruhr *oi wa his lock, (caaed by a full.) hut he
mar lie M-!tlh**t by lfyhf tnartes in*'icatlnj’ the points fr>tu ;
m ~ h ‘-y r ' i tl f* r iJv aUe*hi*rl Inf a ttMre cut! ;
ele.p vrt fre*rr ca**h han*! during fe*s initcy. It U ‘
prttwMe that hy La in the vicinity of LLoAi, lut be ]
mar have l*eem idP to wiiut did. nf aectbiciby a j
white aaut. * ‘ bK. try* V.
April 22, If. (Tairgraph copy.)
The Driggs’ Patent
PIANO FORTE.
I.’ am now readj to *n*wtr the >•( repeated queeHon, “Who
mita* the be** Ftan*.s y” 1 au.er, unqualifiedly,
DRIOOS, PAKMELEK Jt CO. of Sew York. 1 have !
b* vn tubing Plano* *3 jrsar*. nhd claim to uado-rstaud the
in.4rnn .nt thor*.ubtw. IJiiw Fern Xirtli tijimJy to
oatbia ahna tied fb*t. t bare ion every
Irt of the I rir> I‘Kno, nnd ral other crlebrwtod •nee,
in ptatvmnf briif n.l The I Ftano far iicels l
other* in two rery ta*i>.>rtni.t rnatknia'*, d': volume nnd
•wretnow of ton-, and enpuity hr ataylnc in tune. The
tone ! pnntnevd a* n. ieh *s |ow.ttde libr the V olin, there
being two rounding tomU c.*uvvx outward*. The heavy,
thick uinirit*, Uock* nnd brace, me d* i*e nway with, to n
duniterhliirainl f<* twinl The power and *weetne**of
tone in to that of the be*. Grand Finao.
The capacity hr *ta> ih in lane 4>ueud* on n newly In
vented Irou Ftme.or hrd-(inU*. which*i wain- dllkrkll'n
and i* entirely Itw from the cibtntorr pwl o’ the Instni
r.ent. There Ungreat rn.|>ruvetneLt In the-unruer of pet
ting on the Suit p. they not twine liable to runt or to Ur at
tb.ir Nwriuga, and in the arrangement of the damper*. The
(Ungee, hammer*.!< .ah hi i, and eveiy part ot the e*!on
U made in manner that cannot t eaceiied. The ftdlowing
U from Thai: eie :
“Mr. 8. B. Ihixi—l have tamine.l yc>or new Plano
Forte, and cordlnliv apyrove of lie eyateni of coor>uc-ion .
it* frmclpie* l.y which great l> crease of vihratniy power i*
ol.lamed, being ten ain.j.ie and peHectiy phnn>ph cal.
The lone is grai.dai.ii noh.e. It ha> erril laja- i!y for mt
taiu'itgthewwic.l orrlnglrg. nnd It* volume orb ne or rower.
1 hawaneeer heard eaceiied in aeMk parity, .ltd lymiothetic
•wetteear. 8 THALIIkRii.’
Similar ceWltlint.e have been recetwd from IMwtalk.
Mrarkoweh, llaeoa and many other rminem ettiste.
Oue oflheee Indrum ni tuny herrena’ Mi-*r* Virgin*
Tt ahail be able ooa to fill onters not only with there pi
ano*. but other* of a very Beat pallr-n— four large round
Corner*, goth v legs, rarei.d. C Mlavrk • arr.r.ged that
pi. -merer he ptai ‘ton them the HUne a* on the T •-clave pl
an. < except ** the lower bare Mien. A tan, 7 c'ae piaao*
of the came m ike and jwtTerti. which we will roll ci.rj.rwng y
- neap. The I trig.* plain will he wdu at ata-ut the *une
price, a* --tiler piuim, according to Imrh of cue.
1 have the agency forth* *ler-f lb, re plan-* -or the State
Ot Georgia, l >rr!en from any part of the Spat* wii! >*
Pro|t!y aUended to. O. B. HtCE.
Direct to Maewn. ahrywwtL
BHD IESBEHAEB.
Mffß BCROHARD hv returned from Sew York with
WATCHES JEWELRT
and Fancy 4rtldeN
ever brought to Ge -gja. and taov are now - pened and ex
p-wed he axle at our
HeniUiftd Store ON VSerry Street, Two doors
front the Trlrgrapk tU’itdin-j, at tke
Sat/* of tke
810- WATCH,
T odbu w, invite at! t.l rail and ue the Uft * aovriilc.—
Our retcctiou* embrace
RICH, RARE AND GORGEOUS
STVLET or ohxaxerts,
PIN'S. RINGS, BRACELETS. CHAIN'S. LADIjNp
LXAMFJXEU A DIAMOND WATt HE-S
DIAMOND. PE.VKL. ORAI-C.tR
BCN'CLE and other full and
half wtn of Jewelry,
, mnoe of new
deetfen
jovt
a °af
desire la call aaittcu or sttmtlcn to owr of Walcb
-7 ’tb m %kcr". Cowderuy, Hodtlei. Modalsrt,
i * ***** to order fv as. Wr bare also oa
Ihtt m valttoUe JurttkmiQ aim Nanila Ouo&wax(
A WT|fu Tauricty of cl> cks—lslc*
atexiicc Silver aod Ktjdcd Tea Setu,ntdMrs, GobteUjfle,
Musical Instruments
*f every dncripUon. fail and knife at our varied stock o
\ IIHJNM.
*"€01*0 call the attention of the trade to our Mock of
ooljid r* £jn s ,
*** ‘tn* and beet reliction ever ‘rough! to thi* market
KKPII HIM, Prtßptl} Door and Warraatrd.
v era ri* a bcrghard.
“K 4 * fp of the Big Walch.
Wluablt Plantation for Sale.
I ** ••• offering farreie my ptanUdioa in Jtmee County
* r **^ above Macon, oa the (tcmuigee River, con
reran eelwad. Attached to the place ia * acres
diver bottom!. Term, ooe and two yrere’
?* o pure hare valuahi* Land*, will do well
Ba ..* xu>tlM hbort re lam determined to Mil.
ROBERT LUKDI
DEt. LITTLE’S
VERMIFUGE.
In LARGE Dottles and Vials.
Nothin? e’** iv repaired to relieve children of
Worm.*; and bexide* being one of the cheapest and
beat Vermifuge* ever offered to the public. It* fro
j qnent u* iu f*mt'ie* will nave much trouble and
[ expi nve m well a* tbe live* of many children—for
I eight out of every ten cue* generally require it.
LITTLE’S
ANODYNE COUGH DROPS.
A certain cure fur Cold*, Cough*, bronchitis,
Atthmo. Pnin in the Breast ; also Croup,
Whooping Cough*. Ac., Ac ,
amongst Children.
This i* a pleuhant medicine to take, producing im
mediate relief, and in nine oat of ten raxes a prompt
care It exerri-e* the inert controlling influence
over Coughs nnd Irritntiou of the Langs of any re
medy known, often stopping the most violent ia a
few hoar*, or at m >xt in a day or two. Many cases
thought to be decidedly consumptive, have been
promptly cured by using a few bottles. As aaodyee
expectorant, without axlringing the bowel*, it stauds
paramount to nil cough mixtures.
LITTLE’S
FRENCH MIXTURE.
This i* prepared from a French Recipe (In the
form* of So. 1 and 2; the ffrrt for the acute, and
No. 2 for the chronic stage, and from it* uuexampled
success is likely to supersede every other remedy
for the cure of disease* of the Kidney* and Bladder,
Goeorrhoral, Bleanorrhceal, and Leuchorrhiesi or
Fluor Albas affections. This extensive compound
combine* properties totally different in taste and
character from any thing to be fouud in the Cnited
State* Pharmacopoeia ; and in point of safety and effi
ciency ia not rivalled in America.
LITTLE’S
RINGWORM & TETTER OINTMENT.
FORTIS, No. *.
Hundreds of cases of Chronic Tetters, Scald Heads,
and dinea.es of the skin generally, have been cured
by this remedy ; and since tbe introduction of the
No. 2 preparation ibeing stronger scarcely a case
has been found that it will not eif- -easily eradicate
In a short time For the cure of Cancerous Sore*
and ClrerwU i* applied in the form of piasters, and
is almost infallible.
In more tune, twe hundred places in Georgia, and
In the Soothers States, they are to be had ; and a*
there are scamps about who are counterfeiting his
remedire, by palming off their own or something
else, by Using the name or similar names (for no pa
tent i* wanted or secured amid tbe absurd patent* of
the day.) let all be eautioued to look well for the
[ signature of the Proprietor, thus:—
nod also hi* name blown into the glass of each bottle
JH~ All order* and letters to be addressed to
LITTLE & BRO.,
Wholesale Druggists, Macon, Ga
For sal by E. L. Stmhecker, Monnnl &
Castien, Macon,and by Mervhantsand Drug
gist* everywhere.
Sept 23
FOR NEW YORK.
FAKE REDUCED,
Preigld and Passage as Lena as by any other
ST33A.IVI33TIS.
Cabin Passage. :::: sls.
b) ti e splendid and commodious
Side itltpol Steamer!*
AUGUSTA. I-Sno tons Capt. M.S. Woodhull,
FLORIDA, !-• ** *’ Isaac Orowell,
i ALA LAM A I,‘kiO “ ** Geo. R. ftcLeuck.
And fir* class Propeller
STAR OF THE SOUTH Muu Capt. Thomas Lyon.
. j. These steamship# belong
*tbe old established and
rejpbefr . .a’ - r.tc l.ne. known as the
! Os “W’ -■’ S A ’‘New York and Savannah
JhA f “’n \ Stea-n Navigating Cotnpa-
By.".nul in qmtfort. are.-m
ma ided by experienced,
I killful. careful and po'He - -ffleers
■ JOHN It. WILDER A GALUF.
Agci ts, Savar nah.
SAMUEL L. MITCHII.L A BON,
July?—tf Agent*. New York.
MARBLE WORKS!
iff
J. B. ABTOPEtSOV,
Manufacturers of and Dealers in
FOKliUn AID DOIISTIC
MARBLE
MUX U M HNTS,
TtMB STONES,
MANTLES.
FU KNIT IT HE.
SLABS, &c.,
Corner of :frd and I'luiiiD Sl*.
MACON , OA.
apj 11—ts.
‘IKIOH S.HDliaai
Oh the Europe*n Piau,
CITY OF NFW YORK.
Single Hoohis 50 Cents jier Dny.
City Eall Square, corner of Frakfort Street,
, ; (Oppoutie City I!*!l.)
Meak. aa they may is oni-red in the vjrci.mi Rcf.-c
levy. There is a and Lath Ki* iii attaclted
, to the Dote!.
X. k- Be ware of lluunrrt and Ilarkuieu,
who say we are lull.
K. FKKMH, Proprietor.
Angu#t 9, 1859.
SAVE FREIGHT AND COMMISSIONS
fpr Carhart & Curd.
/\§\ * SOLI AGEXS FOR
FAIRBANK S SCALES.
A FULL A re-wt it 4 of Flaltorm and Counter Seale# now
I #V ta store at and for sale at their price*. NO FREIGHT
j aUI'KD t)riler*Uen for Rail-Oid Ware-h-use and other
large hcaiea. We wul see Utvci properly put up.
trey tl—'f.
DR. ABBETT’S
VEGETABLE LIVER AND DYSPEPTIC
Moclicino.
A CAFE and effectusl remedy for all kinds of Liver Dis-
A. e*ea aadtadtatseiiions that oriir.aa'c tnjm a diseased
■taL- r in-.etlvity n" tte Liver; also, nls Bio. and Hit, can be
bad efZciiia A Hunt, Pruggi. - a, corner of 2d A Cbeiry- Sta.,
Macon. Ga, and of J. N. Ooff. E*q, rear Fowerevllle. Hoos
n, Cos, L. B. ABDKTT, Proprietor,
oct W wA,w —1 Thmnaxtnn. Ga.
JUST RECEIVED.
AT R. P. MeKVOkt*. a large lot of 8 ELF-S EALING
, CAN>. Ki.ive.and Fork , Jartot* and Teat Aets. Also
M R PtTt HKIUs.
may 1-ts
Gas Fixtures.
rrHANDAURR.*. FRXDANTB and BRACKRTSofaI
V/aty:•-* i oat received uvd Icr mle by
•iyll-S B, F. ROBS * Cos.
MACON, GA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER ), 1 Ss!>.
THE GEORGIA CITIZEN
IS PUBLISHED EVLRV FRIDAY MORNING BY
L. F. W. ANDREWS.
Office —ln Hornes Bnildincf , Cherry Street ,
Two D ors below Third Street.
TERUM:|2ySO jier annum, in atl\an<‘<.
Ad%erli<emrul ut th- regular charge will i>e One Dollar
**f on< hundred word* or U**, f r the first inser
tion. aud Fifty Cents ffr each •ulmequeiit iiuertion. *\il ad
vertiseni ut’s nut n>edfled to tli&ie, will (mbllalied until
forl'id. an i charged accordingly. A liberal diHcnuut allowed
to those who advertise by the year.
Li!"ml arrangements made with County (MBcers. DruggLstn,
A ilotb/iieers. Merchant*, aud others, who may wish to make
limited Contracts.
l*rnf *<4ioiial and Ituaineiw t'ards will be Inserted un
der this jieokJ, t the foilowtug rates, viz:
For Five lines, j>er annum, ♦ 5 00
For *even lines, do gn)
For Ten lines, do 10 (HI
N< advertisement of tula class will i*e admitted, unless paid
for in advance, lior for a less t rm than twelve nio-ths. Ad
vertisements ot over ten line < will be charged prorata. Ad
vertisements not paid lor in advanoe will be charged at the
regular rates.
Oliitimry Voticcs of over ten line*, will be charged at the
U!u *| rat- s.
liinoiiiiremeiifs of candidates for office to Ik- paid for a
the usual rates, when inserted.
*ales of La iit| and Megrors. by Executors.
t-rs and UaardiauM. an* n.*qu:red by law t te advertued in a
puMic gnaette. forty flays pre\ ‘urns to the day <f sale. ‘J hese
■ales must t e held on the tirst Tuesday in the mmrh, Mvretn
ttie hours of ten in (he foreii<M>n ami three in the afternoon,
at the Court-house m tiie county iu which the projKiiy is situ
ated.
Kalr-4 of IVraonal Prfflertv niust be advertised In like
Scanner, forty days
l l)‘)tora and Uredltora of an Estate must be
puidislicd forty days.
\ofiee auplicatlon will Ik* made to the Ordinary for
leave to sell Land and Negroes, must t*e published weekly for
two months.
4'Ration* for Letters of Administra ion, thirty days; for
Dismission rom Administration, monthly, six months; for
l)Uuii!wi”ii from Guardianship, weekly, forty da>s.
ituie* for Furrclssim f Mortgages, monthly, sou
month- ; for estabiisiong I -t papers, fjr the full space of Hire
months; for compe iling titles from executors or administra
<rs where a bond has beii given I %y the deceased, the full
puce of three months.
i ; Ht3ui(fim].
Tin* Errliiii.
BY JULIA A. FLETCHER.
Think gently of the erring !
Yc know not of the power
With which the dark temptation came,
In some unguarded hour.
Ye may not know how earnestly
They struggled, or bow well,
Until the hour of weakness came,
And sadly thus they fell.
Think gently of the erring !
Oh ! do not thou forget,
However darkly stained by sin,
He is thy brother yet.
Heir of the seif-came heritage !
Child of the self-sume God !
He hath hut stumbled in the path
Thou hast in weakness trod.
Spe tk kindly to the erring !
For is it not enough
That innocence aud peace are gone
Without the censure rough !
It sure must he a weary lot
That tin-crushed heart to bear.
And they who share a happier fate,
Their findings well may spare.
Speak kindly to the erring !
Thou yet may’at lead them hack,
With holy words and tones of love,
From misery’s thorny track.
Forget not thou hast often sinned,
Aud sinful yet must Ik? ;
Deal gently with the erring on e
As God has dealt with thee !
Ah 01l Slory in a lew Dross.
Avery long time ago, in the West
ern part of England, there lived an
aged couple, whose time had passed
away since early youth, in the every
day round of farm life, and who had
never been known to have the least
ill-feeling toward each other since
the time when good old Parson
lieroit had united them in the holy
bonds of wedlock, twenty-live years
before. Sowell was the fact of their
conjugal happiness known, that
they were spoken of far and near, as
the happiest pair known. Now the
Devil (excuse the abrupt mention of
the name,) had been trying for twen
ty years to create what is so called
“a fuss in the family',” between
those old companions. But much to
his mortification, he had not been
able to induce the old gentleman to
grumble about breakfast being late
once, or the old lady to give a single
curtain lecture. After repeated of
forts the Devil become discouraged,
and had he not been a person of great
determination he- would doubtless
have given up the work in despair.
One day as he walked along, in a
very surely mood, after another at
tempt to get the old lady’ to quarrel
about the pigs getting into the yard,
lie met an old woman, a near neigh
bor of the agreed couple. As Mr.
Devil and tlie neighbor were very
particular friends, they must needs
stop on the way to chat a little.
“Good morning, sir,” said she,
“and pray what on earth makes you
look so badly this beautiful morning
isn’t tbe controversy between the
churches doing good service ?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t Deacon W. making plenty
of bad whiskey.”
“Yes.”
“Well, what is the matter, my
highly’ honored master ?”
“Everything else is going on well
enough,” replied the Devil, “but,”
and here lie looked as sour as a mon
key on a crab apple tree, ‘old Blue
ford and his wit’s,’ over here, are in
juring the cause terribly by their
had example, and after trying for
years to induce them to do better, 1
must say I consider them hopeless.”
The old hag stood for a moment
in deep thought. “Are you sure
then you have tried every’ way ?”
-Everyone that I can think of.”
“Are you certain ?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” replied she, “if you will
promise to make me a present of a
new pair of shoes, iu ease 1 succeed,
I will make the attempt myself, and
sec if I can’t raise a quarrel between
them.”
To this reasonable request the
Devil gladly consented. The old
hag went her way to neighbor Blue
ford’s house, and found old Mrs. Blue
ford very busily engaged in getting
things ready for her husband’s com
fort on his return from work. After
tbe usual compliments had passed,
the following dialogue took place :
“Well friend 8., you and Mr. B.
have lived a long time together.”
“Five aud twentv years come
next November/’ replied Mrs. B.
“And in this time you never had
the least quarrel ’l”
“Not one.”
“I am truly glad to hear it,” con
tinued the hag, “I consider it my
duty to warm you, that though this
is the ease, yet you must not expect
it to he so always. Have you not
not observed of late Mr. B. has
grown peevish and sullen at times.’
“Avery little so,” observed Mrs,
Hlneford.
“I know it,” continued the hag,
“and let me warm you in time to he
on your guard.”
Mrs. 11. did think she had better
do so, and asked advice as to how she
ought to manage the case.
‘•Have you not noticed,” said the
hag, “that your husband has a bunch
of long, soarse hair growing on a
mole under Ins chin, on the side of
his throat?”
“Yes.”
“They are the cause of his troub
les, and as long as they remain you
had hotter look out. Now as a
friend, I would advise you to cut
them otf the iirst time you get a
chance, and finis end the trouble.”
“Ts you say do so, I will,” repeat
ed tbe credulous old lady.
Soon after this the bag started for
home, and made it convenient to
meet Mr. 11. on the way. Much the
same talk, in relation to his domestic
happiness, passed between them as
did-between her and the old woman.
“But, friend Blneford,” said she,
“I think it my duty, as a Christian,
to warn you to he on your guard, for
1 tell you that you wife intends your
ruin.”
Old Mr. B. was very much aston
ished ; yet he could not wholly dis
credit her words. When he reached
home he threw himself upon abed
in great perplexity, and, feigning
sleep studied over the matter in his
mind. II is wife, thinking this a good
opportunity for cutting off the ob
noxious hair, took her husband’s raz
or and crept softly to his side. Now
the old lady was very much frigh
tened at holding a razor so close to
her husband’s neck, and her hand
was not so steady as it once was ;
so between the two she went to
work very awkwardly, and pulled
the hairs instead of cutting them otf.
31 r. B. opened his eyes, and there
stood his wife with a razor at his
throat ! After what had been told
him, and seeing this, he could not
doubt that she intended to murder
him. Ho sprang from the bed in
horror ; and no explanation or en
treaty could convince him to the
contrary. So from that time forth,
there was no more peace for that
house. It was jaw, jaw, quarrel and
wrangling all the time.
With delight the Devil heard of
the success of the faithful emissary
and sent her word that if she would
meet him at the end of the lawn, at
a certain time, he would pay her the
shoes.
At the appointed time she repaiaed
to the spot, and found the Devil at
the place. He put the shoes on the
end of a long pole, and standing on
the opposite side of the fence, hand
ed them over to her. She was very
much pleased with them ; they’ were
exactly the article.
“But there is one thing, Mr. Dev
il, that I would like to have explain
ed—that is, why you hand them to
me on that stick t”
“Very easy to explain,” replied
he, “any one who lias the cunning
and meanness to do as y'ou have
done, don’t get nearer than twenty
feet of me.” So saying he fled in
terror.
After awhile the old woman died ;
and when she applied for admittance
to the lower regions the Devil would
not let her in, for fear she might de
throne him, as she was so much his
superior. So the woman is yet com
pelled to wander over world, creat
ing quarrels and strife in peaceful
families and neighbors.
Would you know her name ?
It is Madam Scandal. When she
died, her children, the young Scan*
dalizers, were left orphans : but the
Devil, in consideration of past ser
vice done by the mother, adopted,
them ; and so you see, be is the fath
er of that respectable class called
scandal mongers.
The Northern Labor System.
The cruelties practiced under the system
of while slavery in vogue in the Northern
States, are strikingly portrayed in the follow
ing paragraph from a paper published in
Ohio, the State in which occurred the inci
dent related. In the rnidddle and eastern
States, there are regular organizations for im
porting white boys and girls to the West, to
lie sold into slavery, or apprenticeship as it is
mildly called. Thousands of orphan children
are thus annually doomed to a condition of
servitude which involves hardships and cru
elties of unparallelled enormity. To the
negro whose nature is adapted to no other
condition but slavery, and who is unhappy
out of it, the lot of servitude under the pro
fessional “freedom-sbriekers,” to whom these
poor children aru condemned, would be hard
indeed—hut how indescribably severe it is
when the victims are helpless creatures,
whose every instinct is for liberty:
“A pious political preacher, on the Re
serve, who mingles his religion and politics,
as an old toper does his water aud whiskey,
the latter greatly predominating, and who
every Sabbath remembers to treat his hear
ers to a piteous account of the cruelty of
slave owners, was fined, last week, five dol
lars, for inhumanly cowhidiDg a little orphan
boy he had taken from New York to raise.
The boy, it seems, had loaned a neighbor a
whip— a single leather string tied to a stick
—on the discovery of which, the kind-heart
ed, generous soul, who weeps at the cruel
ties practiced on slaves, took the lad to the
baru and whipped him with a raw hide till
his back and legs were completely raw.—
The noise of the whip and the shrieks of the
little sufferer brought the neighbors to his
assistance.
Evening Piayer.
I come to Thee, to-night.
In my lone closet where no eyes can see,
Ainl dare to crave an interview with Thee,
Father of love and light!
Softly the moonbeam* shine
On the still brunches of the shadowy trees.
While all sweet sounds of evening on the breeze
Steal through the shimtiering vine.
Thou gav’ts the calm repose
That rests on all—the air, the birds, the flower,
The human spirit in its weary hour,
Now iit the bright day’s close.
Tis Nature's time for prayer;
The silent praise of the glorious sky,
The earth's orisons, profound and high,
To heaven their breathings bear.
With them my soul would liend
In humble reverence at thy holy throne,
Trusting the merits of the Son alone
Thy Sceptre to extend.
If I this day have striven
With Thy blest spirit, or have bowed the knee
To aught of earth, in weak idolatry,
I pray to be forgiven.
If in my heart has been
An unforgiving thought, or word, or look.
Though deep the malice which l scarce could brooke
Wash me from the dark sin.
If I have turned away
From grief or guttering which I might relieve,
Careless the cup of water e'en to give,
Forgive me, Lord, 1 pray.
And teach me how to feel
My sinful wandciugs, with a deeper smart,
Aiid more of mercy and of grace impart,
My sinfulness to heal.
Father ! my soul would be
Pure as the drops of eve’s unsullied dew,
And a* the stars w hose nightly course is true,
So would I be to Thee.
Not for myself alone
Would I these blessings of thy love implore,
But for each penitent tne wild world o'er,
Whom thou hast called thine own.
And for my li -art's l-st friends,
Whose steadfast kindness o'er my painful years
Has watched to soothe afflictions, griefs, and tears,
My warmest prayer ascends.
Should o'er their path decline
The light of gladness, or of hope or health.
Be Thou their solace, and their joy and w ealth,
As “hey have long been mine.
And now, 0 Father take
The heart cast w ith humble faith on Thee,
And cleanse its depths from each impurity.
For my Redeemer's sake, [tlymus of Ages.
The Schoolmaster's Promise.
A correspondent ot the Germantown
Telegraph tells the following anecdote of
his old schoolmaster, old Haskins :
“Boys,” said he, smiling one day.
What’s up, thought we, and we were
all attention. Jt was like a sun peep
through a heavy storm-cloud, when “Oid
Haskins” smiled, and the unusual phe
nomenon was unaccountable.
“Boys,” said he, “1 am about to bar
gain with you for good behaviour,” (a
change of tactics verily) “I desire that
you will conduct yourselves with deco
rum for one week, and I will promise to
show you a curiosity— what no man
has ever seen ; and having shown it to
you, what no man will ever see again.
“Yes sir!” “Agreed !” and various oth
er expressions of aequiesence came from
every quarter of the room ; aud as a pre
sage to the new state of things, the school
was dismissed at an early hour, leaving
the boys to gaze in each other’s eyes in
astonishment, as if to divine in each oth
ers intuition the answer to the riddle
which had stolen upon them as a pleas
ant dream.
An anxious week followed—a week of
curiosity, bewilderment, hope and pleas
ure in embryo. Out of school it was all
the talk—“what no man saw, and what
none ever shall see again!”—not even
the terrible author of the compromise.
What could the curiosity be?
Another and another day, until at last
the identical named one dawned upon the
gladdened young hearts.
Nine o’clock came—every urchin was
at his post —books and slates all in read
iness for the day’s battle with the de- j
monos darkness and ignorance—every
task fully committed to memory. Al
together a charming state of affairs !
An active mind, not too closely wedded
to orthodox ideas, would have divined
at once the great advantage of rewards
and kindness, oppression and cruelty.—
But our old tutor was invincible ! Un
make him ? Never. You could not al
ter his plans an iota.
“Tingle! Tingle!” sounded the little
bell—that bell had a voice as well as a
tongue. Boys all attention ! eyes, ears,
mouthes all agape ! momentous epoch ! j
Old Haskins raised the lid of his desk, j
and drew the wonderful thing forth—ad
justed his ominous looking spectacles,
astraddle his nasal protuberance, and ‘
proceeded to the ceremony.
“Attention, school!” roared the tutor.
A single order was all that was neces
sary —you might hear a pin drop.
“The hour has at length arrived ; be
hold in my fir.gers a single almond,” (ter
rible suspense,) “In this almond is a ker
nel”— ceremoniously breaks the shell!
and exposes the tiny thing.
“This no man ever saw !” Then open- ;
ing his capacious jaws, exposing an in
ternal ’array of decaying ivory and raw
flesh, that reminded us of the mouth of a i
Ben fc aHiger, he thrust in the mysterious
kernel—crushed and swallowed it.
“Boys.” exclaimed he, with great em-
you will never—l will
never—no man will ever see that kernel ,
again? Go to your lessons, you rascals,
every young dog of you !”
Allen A. Hall editor of the Nashville
News, killed G. G Poindexter, the editor
of the Union and American, yesterday, in
a street rencontre. It was an editorial
quarrel. It has been but a very short
time since Mr. Poindexter had a difficulty
with the editor of the Nashville Banner,
in which the latter received a slight
wound. Nashville editors cannot possi
bly get along for any length of time
without a fight.
The chaplain of the jail at Rochester
has been implicated ir. aiding in the es
cape of the thirteen prisoners who left
that institution last week. It is said
that the reverend gentleman exhorted
the prisoners so frequently “to flee from
the wrath to come,” that they followed
the scripture injunction literally.
Kit Carson.— The Constitution says;
Judge W atts, of New Mexico, stated at
the Office of Indian Affairs that he was
direct from the Territory, and that he
saw Kit Carson in excellent health im
mediately preceding his departure. He
say 9, emphatically, that there is no foun
dation for the report of Carson’s death.
THE PORTRAIT.
“Mother, was that our house once?”
“Yes, dear,” replied the pale woman,
easting a long look at the splendid
dwelling, “you were born in that front
chamber. But hurry on, dear, it is ours
no longer, 1Io!g your shawl about your
chest—the wind is very cold.”
Thpy were meanly dad, both mother
and daughter. The former was past
forty a few years, and the daughter was
not yet seventeen. Annie Bently was
not beautiful, nevertheless her ftce was
a rare blending of amiability and intel
lect. They passed quickly along over
the well-trodden snow, and wended their
way towards one of the lower quarters
of the city. There they traversed the
long, ill-looking street, till they stopped
before a narrow shop door and entered.
“Any work yet, Mr. Mostly?” asked
the widow, in a quiet tone.
“Oh, yes, madam/’ said the man be
hind the counter, “we have plcifty of
shirts now. Shill 1 give you a bundle?”
And he cast a glance, half impertinence,
half admiration, towards the young girl.
“What are your prices?” asked Mrs.
Bartlet.
“Well, you know we generally give
a shilling a shirt to common customers,
but as it is you, you know, why I think
we’ll pay two shillings. Shan’t I take
it home for you ? it’s a heavy bundle—
too much for you to carry.”
The widow hesitated. She had done
sewing lor that man before, but she did
not like the way in which he looked at
her daughter. A mother’s heart takes
alarm at a hint, a question or a glance.
Annie was too precious to be exposed
to rudeness; she was the one, the only
lair child of a widowed heart. But the
bundle was too weighty for either moth
er or daughter, so she concluded to Jet
it be brought.
“You can send it by,” she said.”
“Oh, can’t get any body to take it—l
must go myself. No inconvenience, I
assure you—right on my way to supper.
Miss, I wish I could offer you one of my
arms,” he said, courteously, “but they
happen to be bo h full.’
They walked on till they came to a
very ordinary looking house, whose
steps were covered with children The
man smiled to himself as they ascended.
“I will take the bundle now,” said the
widow with dignity.
“Oh, no, couldn’t consent to let you
carry it,” said the man, “1 11 take it to
your room.”
“Put the bundle down, sir !” said the
widow, with flashing eyes.
The man started, and had nearly let
it drop. However, he threw it with an
impatient jerk on the lower stair, and
muttering a curse, turned and left the
hall. “What made you speak so cross
ly, mother ?” a*ked Annie.
“Never mind, my child, help me up
stairs with it,” said the widow, recover
ing her equanimity. She had seen the
tailor wink across the entry to a vulgar
looking man near by, w hose reputation
was none of the best.
“Oh, dear.” It w'as said very bitter
ly, and with a heart-ache, as mother and
daughter entered their own neat little
room, an attic chamber lighted from the
ceiling.
“It seems strange, doesn’t it?” mused
Annie, looking around.
“What seems strange, dear ?”
“That you should have lived and I
been born in that beautiful great house,
and after al! be reduced to the garret of
such a placets this,” replied Anuie.—
“Who I ives there now, mother ?”
“\ou have heard me say before, child,”
replied her mother—“your uncle Harry
and your cousin Eugenie. Your uncle i
Harry, >onr father’s brother, married
my sister —poor Annie,you were named
after her, she died before your father
did, or we should not now be suffering
penury, or be forced to take insults from
our inferiors.”
‘Well, it is home,’ said the young girl,
gazing aronnd, ‘and not so bad a one ei
ther. Now, if we get those shirts done
—why, we can buy a beautiful thick
shawl to wear between us. Shall I
make tea to-night?’
‘\es, if you please/ said the mother,
sitting wearily down; ‘l’ll undo the
bundle and sort the woik.’
‘Robert Soutliy, you are always
standing before that picture!’
So cried the beautiful high’ bred girl,
as she entered the splendid reception
room where stood the young man ga
zing upon a sylph like figure enclosed
within a massive frame.
Young Southy turned around hastily,
a rarely intellectual face was his—and
greeted the beautiful girl with a smile.
“I cannot help aoroiriog that picture/
he said: ‘it has a fascination for me which
1 cannot explain to myself. Is that an
original, or is it one of those gentle
dream faces that artists sometimes fash
ion when under the inspiration of heav
en V
‘Oh, it is no dream face,’ said Euge
nie, lightly, ‘but a cousin of mine, I be
lieve—that is, I heard papa say so.—
She is living now, I believe, but dear
me, they’re dreadful common sort of
people.’
‘They ?’ queried Robert Soutby.
‘I mean my aunt and cousin. They
are in reduced circumstances, and I un
derstand Annie has got so far down that
she takes work at the shops. You
smile, and I suppose you ought to know
more about them, but 1 assure you that
it is not my fault. Ever since they
would not consent to make it their
home, papa has forbidden me to have
anything to do with them/
‘But why did they not stay?’asked
Robert.
‘Oh, they had some foolish notions of
independence —said they would not live
on the bounty of, those who robbed
them, and many other impertinent things.
I w'onder papa was so patient with
them ! —l’m sure he could not help it if
it was their home once, you know, if his
brother willed it to him/
‘S->, so,’ said Robert Southy. And
his fine eyes roved again to the portrait.
The noble lace seemed lighted up with a
trusting smile, as he gazed, and yet it
was but a child’s face—a child of only
seven years.
‘How old is that cousin by this time?’
he asked, carelessly.
‘Oh, about my age. I assure you
she’s a very plain-looking girl. The
painter idealized that face.’
Eugenie Bartlet was both vain and
heartless, and had not even wit enough
to conceal either defect. She had fan
cied that she loved more than once, but
never till the poet face of Robert Sou
thy met her vision, had she in reality
known the true meaning of the word
used, much abused word. She fancied
that her beauty was irresistable; it was
to some men, but not to him. lie liked
to call there because he had often met
Mr. Bartlet, who was a liberal patron
of the arts, a good scholar, and interes
ting conversationist, but for the beauti
ful daughter, he had nothing more than
friendship—scarcely that.
She, however, fancied that he was in
terested in her—nay, that he was des-
perately enamored of her charms, and
did not dream that he sought for heart,
not befuty, for mind, not wealth.
‘ITow long did they occupy here V
asked Robert Southy.
‘Oh, till she was seven—in fact, that
picture was taken the year my uncle
died. There was a great time about the
will, and when she really found it was
in my father’s favor, the widow left the
house and went out west, where she res
ided till within a few years. W hen they
j came back again, father offered them a
home, but they refused. To tell the
truth, I was not sorry, for I thought my
cousin was a gawky. How could it be
j otherwise ? No boarding-school privi
leges. 1 suppose her mother has been
teaching her, but dear me, she can’t do
much.’
Robert Southy glanced at the speaker
with a look she could not have relished,
had she noticed it. Fortunately, her
! eyes were cast down.
‘Do let us change the subject,’ said
Eugenie, with a little start of impa
1 tience —“what did you th.nk of Gaurda
line last week ? Was not he superb?—
I positively adore him—for the time, I
mean.’
Robert Southy seemed quite indiffer
ent whether she adored him for the time,
1 or for all time, and replied to her arch
look with a quiet, almost a contemptuous
i smile.
i ‘The ‘Barber of Seville,’ is, I think,
the most charming of operas,’ continued
Eugenie, ‘don’t you ?’
‘On the contrary, I dislike it the most,’
replied Robert Sonthy.
‘< Ih, is it possible ? Why, everybody
goes int > rapture ever it,’ replied Eu
j genie.
‘1 don’t agree with everybody then,’
he said quietly. ‘I have but little sym
pathy with everybody/
She looked as if she did not know
how to take this declaration, and it an
noyed her to see his eyes again wander
ing to the portrait.
Tiitakeit down and burn it/ she
angrily ejaculated to herself.
After a few commonplace remarks,
Robert Southy took his leave.
lie walked about until it was quite
twilight, and then remembering an er
rand in another part of the city, he re
traced his steps. Was it his guardian
angel that prompted him ?
Jle had nearly reached the place to
wards which his steps were bent, when
he felt a light touch on his arm. He
looked down. There was the face of
the portrait, only more natural—much
sweeter in expression. His heart beat
as it never beat before.
‘May I ask your protection ?’ said a
sweet voice—‘some one has followed me
and spoken to me more than once, and
I—,’ the lip trembled, the eloquent eyes
swam with tears.
‘Certainly, 1 will protect you,’ said
Robert, drawing her hand within his
arm—‘and as to that scoundrel over
there, I know him—he should be chasti
sed as he deserves. He will be before
long if he is not careful.’
The man met his eye and skulked
i along a back street. Il was Mosely,
’ the keeper of the shop.
‘I should not have been out alone at
such an hour, but my mother needed
medicine/ she said, as they walked along.
Tne fair girl trembled excessively.
They moved rapidly away, till they
j came to the miserable building where
lived Annie and her mother. Annie’s
! cheek burned as the young man ascend
ed the steps and opened the door for
her. There were loud and disagreeable
sounds up stairs, the entry was dark,
and poor Annie stood hesitating.
‘They are very noisy and quarrel
some, some of the families iu the rooms,’
she said, timidly.
‘Stop a moment,’ ejaculated Robert
Southy, as he knocked quickly at one of
the doors. ‘Lend me a light to show
this young lady up stairs/ he said to the
woman who appeared.
The occupant of the room hurried to
light another candle. As she gave it to
him he placed a piece of money in her
hand, which she was nothing loth to
take, and desiring Annie to follow him,
the young man went as far as she direct
ed. The door of the great garret stood
open, and Annie’s mother, with a strange
gladness in her face, looked out toward
Annie, as she came up stairs.
‘Thank this gentleman, mother, for his
kindness in protecting me from insult,
said Annie, gently. ‘But 1 left you
sick/
‘1 am well, now,’ exclaimed the exci
ted widow, ‘and here is what has cured
me.’ She held a folded paper in her
hand. ‘The will that was lost !—the
will that lawyer Crandall and other
witnesses knew he made, is here in my
hand! It ia dated a year later than the
NUMBER 30*
(ne his brother has ! Annie, my child,
thank God with me—thank God!’
They had gone into the neat little gar
ret room, Annie and Robert ?outhy ft 1-
iowing. The latter made no apology,
he felt acquainted with the circumstan
ces, and told them so. Annie’s face was
radiant, it was a picture quickened into
beautiful life, the same innocence of ex
pression, the same spiritual loveliness.
‘Annie, you know how sacredly 1 have
kept this little bible since your father’s
death,’ said Mrs. Bartlet, ‘only in times
of peculiar joy or aflliction reading from
‘its pages, because it was the one your
father used in his private devotions. —
(hie day when he was ill, but not yet
sick enough to be confined to his bed, he
asked me for a piece of green baize. I
brought it to him, and went somewhere
—1 forget where. When I returned the
bible was covered. 1 asked him what
he had covered it for, and he replied
with a smile, ‘for you.’ I thought he
referred to the possible event of his
death, and it made me sad. After that
he was struck with paralysis, and neith
er spoke nor moved. Once before,
when thought to be very sick, and under
the influence of his brother’s stronger
mind, he made the will in which Mr.
I’artlet now holds our lawful rights.—
lie had a strange fear of his brother—l
never knew why he could always control
my poor husband. To-day after Annie
went out, I got this bible, and read it,
lying upon the bed. As I opened it I
thought the cover felt strangely slippes
ry, and curiosity led me to push it hither
and thither, until I felt sure there was a
paper underneath it. I unpasted the
baize, and there folded carefully across
the back of the sacred word was the
will! Oh, praise heaven ! We are poor
no longer!’
‘Will you allow me to transact this
business for you?’ asked Robert Southy,
turning to the mother. Tam a lawyer,
and it would give me peculiar pleasure
to serve you, as I am acquainted with
your relatives.’
One glance at the noble face before
her decided the widow. She accepted
the offer with thanks.
‘I will find you a better home than
this, to-morrow,’ said the young man. —
‘An uncle of mine is on the point of
visiting England; you shall immediately
be put in possession of a part of his
house. This is no home for you.’
Annie blushed, for the look he di
rected toward her was full of meaning.
She felt as he did, that their meeting
was no chance circumstance, but a di
rect Providence, and his apperaance won
insensibly upon her heart.
Coaxing ip an Expression.— A
brace of i lovers” anxious to secure
each other’s shadow ere the substan
tial faded, stepped into the Ambro
type Car of our friend Williams, one
day last week, to sit for their “pic
tures.” The lady gave precedence
to her swain, who, she said, “had
got tp be tuck fust, and real natural.”
He brushed up his tow head of hair,
gave a twist or two to his handker
chief, asked his girl if hisshirt collar
looked about X, and planted himself
in the operator’s chair, where he a
- the physiognomical charac
teristics of a poor mortal in a den
tist’s hands, and about to part with
ono of his eye teeth. “Now, dew
look purty !” begged the lady, cast
ing at him one of her most languish
ing glances. The picture was taken
and when produced it reminded the
girl, as she expressed it, “jist how
Josh looked when he got over the
measles! and as this was not an era
in her suitor’s history particularly
worthy of her commemoration, she
insisted that he should stand again.’*
lie obeyed and she attended him to
the chair.
The poor follow tried to follow the
indefinite injunction.
“La,” she said, “why, you look all
puckered up !”
One direction followed another, but
with as little success. At last,
growing impatient, and becoming
desperate, she resolved to trj’ an ex
pedient which she considered infalli
ble, and exclaimed :
“1 don’t keer if there is folks
around !”
She enjoined the operator to stand
at his camera ; she then sat in her
feller’s lap, placing her arms around
his neck, managed to cast a shower
of flaxen ringlets as a screen between
the operator and her proceedings,
which however, were betrayed by
a succession of amorous sounds,
which revealed her expedient.—
When this “billing and cooing” had
lasted a few minutes, the cunning
gal juntped from Josh’s lap, and
clapping her hands, cried to the
astonished artist :
“ Now you have got him ! put
him through !”
[ Ado Lisbon Buckeye.
Hope. —l lope is peculiar to all men.
It is the support of the disappointed, the
encourager of the unfortunate, the rest of
the weary, and the firm friend of all
mankind. Many an unhappy person has
been enabled to support himself in the
trying moments of affliction, by the in
dulgence of a hope that the dark hour
would not last forever, but that the time
would eoon arrive when he should once
more be happy. Hope will spring up
in the mind of man until faith is lost in
sight, and mortality is swallowed up in
life.
Chiltidood is like a mirror, catching
and reflecting images from it. Remem
ber that an impious or profane thought,
uttered by a parent’s lips, may operate on
the young heart like a careless spray of
water thrown upon polished steel, staining
it with rust which no afler scouring can
eflace.