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VOLUME 10.
For tbe Georgia Citizen.
lor Xeivtpaper*.
BY At XT JENNIE.
From child 1 have hud am: ia
. - jcribbliiig —haven’t got ovt it
• et ’
Wuen I af fourteen I attended
a t “l’elar Seminaryin \t.
V ; IS .rreat in composition writing,
iiit-iis if what I considered magni
articles, for myself and half
|IV school-mates. They borrowed
.., aV thunder,” and paid me in coni*
merits which fostered my vanity,
ini induced me to think I should
vi-ntuallv become a second Mad; ne
IVStael. I was reading“C’orrinne”
lt the time, and Sue Sanders, my
p m and class-mate, and inyself
sijervd the hero Lord Nelvil per.
, Ci t. Examination was approaching
jn i Sue, who loved to scribble as
well as inyself, and who was a
rl f considerable talent, appoin
ts! with ineto write a French Dia-
for the great occasion. Im
ijjine our flattered vanity, and the
tnvyof the rest of the girls !
The Dialogue was written, and
we were delighted with its wit and
elegance, especially after it was re
r-rd. corrected and translated into
French by Prof. Dupre, and in se
rrtt conclave, we decided that wo
wre doing ourselves injustice to
hide our light under a bushel, and
that it was our duty to write pro
publico. So we conceived the
brilliant idea of writing a talc “joint
ly,” as (.‘apt. Cuttle would say, nicer
the maimer of Andrews and S >d-!
•iard's Latin Reader, or like the is- !
hr*’ Bronte, of whose works we \ -re
enthusiastic admirers, and who xe
had erroneously teen told, ay te j
t;:< ir works in copartnership. le, j
red headed, tiery little dan el, |
was of a keen sarcastic turn, ml
inured herself on her knowledt. of
human nature, which she atlir e*l
she omierstood to aT. And tal ng
into consideration her advanced re,
unlimited experience, and imm* -se i
opportunities for observation, .erj
*'ttddence in her own powers • >es
nut s-om to have been at all a ed ,
to vanity! She was to draw the h ;*o,!
and myself the heroine. We ad
ji>t read “Jane Eyre,” that inin. ta
ble novel, and we were both nr.. ig
al-<iit “Rochester.” Sue’s hero was
“Rochester” diluted. We had all
ids bad qualities, I recollect, and none
of his good ones, but unlike “Ro
chester,” he was endowed with su
per-human beauty and grace. My ,
heroine was an odd compound, made :
up of “Jane Eyre,” “Shirley” aul
“Caroline llelstone.” She av.> r>
tite like Jane, beautiful like Caro- j
hue and brilliant like Shirley, so I
stated. Though I did not make a
clear case of her being possessed of
‘minion sense ! There teas a great :
deal of sentiment, wonderful hair
breadth escapes, and any quantity of
p'ctical quotations in the article ; in
tact the hero and heroine conversed
mostly in poetry borrowed from Ily
r >n. Moore, and Miss Landon. The
talc was finally completed, Sue cop
mi it, as 1 wrote an execrable hand, ,
■nmeh like the characters on a tea j
he>t, and we read it with enthusi- j
a-tic delight. The question now
arose, to what magazine should we
send it ? We wished to keep it a
profound secret, till the brilliant ef
fusion should appear before the ad
miring public, and we shouljl awake
’ >me morning like Byron, and rind
“tirsejves famous. But we did not
know exactly how to procee< or j
what price to set upon our ar cle, 1
“'c had finally concluded not t- de
mand more than fifty dollars fi it,
a* it was our first attempt, and in
n-ruled to purchase with my h ire
of the money, a pink silk dres for
myself, ; book for my moth •, a
ring for my brother, and se *ra!
“mall articles. Sue intended t< in
v* >t hers in books and statioi ry.
filially* we concluded to tak< my*
youngest brother, three years dor
than mvself, into the secret, t lie
could advise us how to procee I
had the most unbounded confit nee
in his wisdom, and Ave reaolvc> to
be guided entirely by his advice,
which we presumed would he to
s cnd the effusion to his fav ‘rite
magazine, Harpers. So with an air
°f mystery, which must liaA*e been
highly suggestive of‘treasons, strat
agems and spoils,” I im*ited my
brother to A\*alk with me, to a seclu
ded grove, some distance from the
‘illage, and then and there I com
municated our tremendous secret,
expecting him to be OA*erwheltned
wdth its magnitude and importance,
hut he wasn’t 1 he took it coolly;
* n fact he laughed ! “So you and
s ue have become litterary’” said
he, “and y OU waut me to advise
you on what magazine to confer
the honor of your article. Let
me see. Its tAvo far too far to
1 send it to the Edinburg RevieAA*,
or Blackwood’! magazine. Har.
per and the Knickerbocker
1 might not publish it as soon as you
Avisli (!) suppose you send it to the
’ j Editor of the “Star” in Bellville.”
“What” exclaimed I contemptuous
ly ? “send it to le published in a
newspaper!” “Well but you see,”
I said he smiling rather curiously, and
I benignly, most young writers pub
lish in the papers first; the “Star is
a leading sheet,and Avhen the editors
1 of the different magazines see your
article, they will no doubt solicit
| your literary patronage, and be Avil
ling to pay* you liberally. This
sounded well, so on the Avhole we
; concluded to take the advice so gra
eiously given, ami we sent the arti
cle to Col. talented and Avitty
Editor of the “Star.” With A\*hat
1 anxiety’ we awaited the issue to con
tain our tale, can be conceived only
by brother and sister aspirants for
literary* fame. We had requested the
j Editor to send us a dozen copies a
piecc, and we went daily to the P. O.
1 At length Avere our efforts to he re-
Avarded, and our friends to become
convinced avc were no longer child
ren, as they* had heretofore seemed
to consider us. We gloried in the
thought of their pride and admira
tion, Avhen they learned how talent
ed we were. Fiifltlly, we received
from the I*. Master one paper, and
hurrying with the treasure, to our
boarding-place avc went to our room,
locked the door, seated ourselv’es on
the floor, witli our hats and shawls
on, and tearing off the envelope,
i opened the paper eagerly. The tale
> was not on the first page! A\ e open
ed our disappointed eyes Avider, then,
turned the leaf. Still we did not sej
| it. We looked for the communica
tions to correspondents, and read as
follows. “We haA*o received from
I “Estelle and Leola” a tale, for which
is demanded the moderate sum of
fifty dollars! Whether the demand
was made in jest or earnest, avc are
not prepared to say*, but avc can af
firm that though there arc some flash
es of humor in the article, Avhich, as
we were at leisure, led us on to read
the whole of it, on the whole, it is
as unmitigated trash as we ever read.
The tale is magnificently termed
i “Spiritual Sympathies, or the love of
I Clarence Argyle and Florence St.
Clair.” The hero seems to be an un
happy cross between a fop and a ras
cal, and the heroine a silly hoy denish
sentimental girl, without sense or
decorum. We advise the tiro author
esses (it took two to write the arti
cle !> to stick to their books, as they
! state they* are school girls, and not;
i waste time and paper with Avriting
such trash.” Imagine our discomfit
ure ! We looked at each other rue
i fuly; I hurst into tears of anger and
mortification. Sue’s face was as red
as her hair, she spitefully’ threw off
her hat, and then with one of her
odd, sudden transitions, from one
mood to another, she seemed, to be
! struck Avitb the comical aspect of
the matter, and she lay* down on the
floor, and screamed Avith laughter.
“Served us right” exclaimed the
shrewd little damsel, “I see it all. —
We were a couple ot fools ! l ine glad
that we had sense enough lelt not to
tell anybody* but your brother, and
avc will make him swear not to cx
-1 pose us.” So we made the best of our
1 disappointment, informed my broth
er of the result, which seemed to oc
casion him more amusement than
surprise, obtained his promise not to
reveal the secret, and concluded in
future to confine our literary* efforts
| to the Institution of which avc Avere
members. Our French dialogue
passed off finely*, Avhich was a sooth
ing salve to our av minded vanity*.—
School closed. Sue and 1 parted, ex
! changed vows of eterpal, unchanging
frienship. Her brother moved to the
West that Fall, and I've never seen
her since, but heard last year .he Aias
married to a rich Avidower, and con
sidered an excellent manager, evin
cing unusual talent in raising ducks
and chickens.
Sic transit gloria mundi !
Tavo things well considererd, would
prevent many quarrels; First, to haA*e
it well ascertained whether we arc
not disputing about terms rather
than things ; and, secondly, to exam
ine whether that on which we differ
is worth contending about.
It is often better to have a great
deal of harm happen to one; a great
i deal mav arouse you to remove Avhat
; little will only accustom you to en
[ dure.
[ | Crows are never the whiter for
j washing themselves.
MACON, GA., FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1860.
HOW 1 TOLU JII LOVE.
Oh, the glories of a sleigh ride in
the sparkling bracing air of a Cana
dian winter ! The sky* clear and ex
hilarating—keenly bright, but with
a different degree of lucidity from
that of a bright summer's day*. Broad
expanding plains—the city receding
behind us, as the horses, leaping on
ward to the music of the chiming
bells, made for the broad boundless
country*. The fir forests are clasped
in a shadowy, ghostly slumber. Far
away* on our right are those pathless
funeral groves where the avolvcs ag
gregate in hundreds. To the left
lies a ridge of hills sloping down to
the river, which is locked up in the
icy manacles of the Winter King.—
Ahead jyid right before us —whither
we are hound—over waste and plain,
and clearing—lies a snugly sheltered
A’illage, the head-quarters of the
“lumberer” and the voyageur. Our
destination is not quite so far.
This said destination is a broadly
spread, low lying farmstead, with its
almost numberless out houses, con
sisting of cattle sheds and dairies,
corn stories, roofings tor winter fod
der, Avood stacks, and other concom
itants surrounding the dwelling, all
palisaded by* zigzag fences, as so
many out works to protect the com
fortable citadel. Within it, Avartn
fires blaze and sparkle from the huge
and odorous logs crackling on the
broad, bounteous hearth. In the
great common chamber, raftered and
picturesque as an antique gothic hall,
are warm hearts and flushing eyes.
Bearded men and fair women are
there—laughing maidens and strap
ping young hunters, avlio had just
shaken the .snow off their furs. De
spite the stern, yet musical baritone
of the singing Avind, as it goes by*,
stinging cheeks, biting noses into
purple, and making the blood tingle,
shouts of mirth and laughter rise
al*oA*e the boreal blasts; and our
leaping sleigh, gliding —flying along
rather to the music of the soft musi
cal bolls, is last, fast approaching its
terminus.
“In the meantime,” asks the read
er, “who occupy this sleigh ?” I has
ten to answer.
First, there was your humble scr-
A Hiit, the narrator, Dick Harding, by
name, but a few months back from
banks of the Isis, Avith the ‘bar’ in
prospect. 1 add a few* of my person
al items. Rather good looking; a
fair shot ; can hit with Avondorful
vigor straight out from the shoulder;
am five feet ten, and growing; can
play the fiddle, a game of pool, and
haA*e the temper of an angel. I had
been one of a party ot adventurous
sportsmen, “going in, ’ for something
worthy of Alexander, and, with fish
ing tackle,spears, and shooting irons,
had done no inconsiderable execu
tion among the denizens ot the Can
adian woods and sounding “rapids,
and hunted the bear in his own bold
and picturesque fastnesses.
Enough for myself. Now for com
panions.
Place aux Dames, therefore —for
nestling by my side, avrapped up in
rugs and warm furs, is Lota and Ar\*illo
—a bright eyed, rosy-lipped, laugh
ing Canadian, as lovely* a girl-woman
of soA'enteen as glance ot man ewer
rested complacently upon. The Can
adian mother and the French father
were expressed in her name. Her
playful lambent eyes had exercised
their sorcery* upon me ere this; and
the modulations of a voice unequal
cd for its low, soft sweetness, com
pleted the young syren’s triumph. —
This, by the way, for Ave had ex
changed no confidence as yet on a
subject very near my* heart.
We were bound to a merry sleigh
ing party at Windy gap Farm—os
tensibly-to a hunt upon a vast scale,
which accounts for my two rifles
and ammunition lying in the sleigh,
and for the noble deer hound, the
third individual, Avho had curled up
his great body at our feet, and aided
to keep them warm. 1 had Known
her brother —a young officer in the
Canidian Rifles—had'killed “bars” at
the salt licks with him; had met
Lota and her family* on board a St
Lawrence steamer, and was now a
guest at their house, enjoying their
frank and bounteous hospitality*.
“Hurrah!’ Through the keen,
sonorous air, sleigh and horses bound
along! ’’Cling—clang!” go the chi
ming bells. “ “Crick—crack !” goes
the long thonged whip, -with a
sharp.cheery significance. My “Mad
awaska cariole,” a sleigh which is
the perfection of locomotion, is not
less pe feet ion than the fiery* steeds,
with their sinews of elastic steel,
which I drive.
Driving sleigh-tandem is the eas
est thing in the world, Avhen you are
used to it. I was a member of the
‘Tandem Club,’ ami reckoned a crack
hand, of course. I exulted in my
skill now, as I bore my rosy* com pan
ion through the air, and the Avhip
went “crick —crack !” like a double
barrel gun going off', and the sweet
bells sang and chimed. “Oh! sweet
echoes of far distant wedding hells!”
I thought—and the crisp snow was
split and shattered into diamonds
under the grinding of the hoofs and
the attrition of the runners; and
with an exhilaration I could not re
press, I gave a vigorous “hurrah !”
which conA’cycd itself to Lora, wrap
ped up in moose and bear-skins, and
warm as a toast. A sweet, girlish
laugh echoed my exulting shout.
“Y ou appear to enjoy* this, Mr.
Harding she said.
“ If 1 don’t” “Crick—crack .
filled up the hiatus. What a pair o!
beauties! Phoebus Apollo never
drove their likes do'vn the steeps ot
heaven! The wily Ithacan never
raised such cattle when he cleared
the stable of Rhesus of his horses!
I “Crick, crack !” and the horses neigh
and toss their arching necks, and the
bells are chiming and twinkling, and
| the mad, exulting rush uplifts one
| like wine.
I remark, to myself, that the sky
lias deepened into an intense, still
darkening blue, darkening with a
strange, unearthly* tenebrous inky .
ness, betokening a coming snow
storm.- No matter—“\Vindy-gap”
is right ahead, and the welcome
I’ghts will Maze out of the casements
soon, for the afternoon is wearing.
Ou we go—hut I do not see them
yet, and yet—hut no—its all right!
“Are you warm—quite snug, dear
Lora!” said I, half turning to look
at the rosy, exquisite face peeping
forth with so much furtive coquetry*
from its encadrement of white cosy*
furs.
“Oh, so comfortable !” she answer
ed, with a nestling movement, and a
smile which made my heart leap
joyously upward.
But my* attention Avas called away
to the creeping, crepuscular inkyness
of the sky*. lt‘ avus light, yet not
day light, but blue light—to coin u
word; that wintry hue of livid dark
ening steel, always the precursor to
a fierce change in tho weather. This
only made the long level plains of
snow gleam with a lustre the more
dazzling and intense. I remarked
this, hut with a momentarily divid
ed and wavering sense.
I had never (familiar as avc had
grown, and I was “honest as the
skin between your brows,” as she ,
was in fact) —1 had never said “dear
Lora” before, and the Avords were
yet in mine ears like a sweet old bur-!
then. I loved her with all my heart :
and soul, but I had never told it. J
yearned to tell her so now ; but I
thought it scarcely fair, not up to the ■
mark of my manhood—to take what
seemed an unfair advantage of the
protection I avus supposed to extend
over her. I magnanimously resolv-j
ed to wait-choking down the Avords
—but not for long.
Meantime “crick—crack,” went
the long whip, and still “cling, clang”
went the chiming bells, and the j
horses held on with unabated pace |
and splendid A*igor, but Avherc had j
Windy* gap gone to all this time?
for time wax up, and we should be j
there by* this.
“Goodness !” exclaimed Lota, all j
at once, “how strange the sky looks ; !
we shall ha\*e more snow—a heavy j
fall, too.”
“I fear so,” I replied; “but n’importe
we’ll soon be out of it.”
“We arc very* long, I fancy*,” she |
continued, reflectively; “you have
driven there quicker than this, be |
fore. Oh, Heaven !” she cried, with j
thesnddencss of a revelation, “can
we have lost the track?”
The blank question harped with a |
horrible jar on my* most vivid nerves.
Now or never, Avas the time to be
quite cool.
“No, I think not,” T replied, Avith j
assumed carelessness; “we shall |
come to our landmark presently*.”
“A clump of firs —an old mill, far- j
flier on ; yes,” she added, “I recol
lect ; hut Ave should have passed j
them long ere this. Oh, I fear we l
arc lost!”
A cold chill seized me as I tacitly*
admitted that she avus in the right.
I could not account for my error, if
such was the case. I looked round
the horizon, but beheld no friendly
sign ; it was only a circle gathering :
closer, and growing darker the
while.
Suddenly, my* brave deer hound
lifted up his head, and uttered a low
growl. The horses gave a startled
swerve just as suddenly. A strange,
lugubrious, but appalling sound
came all at once from windward,
wailing like a death cry—a prolong
ed, awful, groaning discordance—
over the white gleaming snow ; and
then it died away.
The horses halted, trembling ; on
ly* the shivering tinkle of tho bells
broke the death like silence that
fell like an eclipse over all.
“What is that?” asked Lota, in a !
shuddering whisper, as she clutched ;
my* arm. < j
I listened. “It is the wind sigh .
ing, and dying away in the pine for
est,” I answered.
“ And avo do not go near the for
est,” she said. “Hark! there it is
again. Oh, what —what can it be ?”
Again the indescribable hideous
and lugubrious sound broke forth ; j
clearer —nearer. It increased; it
multiplied ; the horrible crescendo,
howling, shrieking, and ravening,
was not that of the wind this time.
“Merciful God!” gasped Lota;
“the Wolves !”
I never understood, till that ino-;
inent, what the concentrated essence
of literal, deadly* horror might mean.
I never experienced the shock be
fore, or since ; and I have, in my
hunting excursions, faced my dan
ger and played out the game man
fully*. To have lost the Avay* was
terrible enough; but—the wolves!
and Lota. An instant I was numb
and dumb.
It was true, however. The sever
ity* of the weather, the migration or
scarcity of the animals on whom
these unclean creatures preyed, had
made their hunger a raging, devour
ing madness. They were encroach
ing on civilized territory, and losing
their usual characteristic and craven
cowardice— were approaching the
habitations of men, haunting A*illage
and settlement. Woe to those in
their path ! As the infernal hoxvl
rose lingeringly* again, tho horses
darted away Avith a shrill neigh of
fear, and 1 guided them—beginning
to recover myself—in an opposite
direction, while ‘‘Terror,” my noble
hound stood up with e\*ery fang
bared, and every hair on end, Avait
ing for the enemy lie had already
scented.
If my good horses had gone on so
admirable at first, they* sped off now
like arrows from the bow; for the
madness of fear added wings to their
speed, as that of hunger did to our
panting pursuers. 1 Avas growing
cold; Lota was pale, but calm. ij
felt proud of her, though it was cer- j
tain that if we escaped not speedily* ;
the brutes would run us down, and
then, horror of horrors ! what a fate
for her!
I had two rifles, a revolver, ammu
nition, a spear, and a wood hatchet
in the sleigh. I conveyed my inten- ;
tion to Lota. “Can you load these j
weapons with those cartridges ?” I
asked.
“Yes,” was the answer; and she
loaded a “Fuller” and “Manton”with
true hunter's skill. 1 took one rifle
—looked hack —the other pack Avas
increasing. I fired, and Lota load
ed ; and one after another fell, to be
devoured by* their ravenous com
rades; and still the horses sped on.
The accursed things were, for all
this, gaining ground. Doubts, fears,
hopes, trembling were at my heart
as I turned to the sweet girl, whose
life or death were all in all to me,
and said:
“Lota! if we die together, remem
ber that / loved you—none Out you ! 1
tell it you now if I may never again.”
“Kill mo first,” she whispered. “I
hear your words; I echo them. You
luwe my* heart. Richard ”
“Oh, Lota! host beloved! what a
moment to confess; and 1 know not
if I feel pain or gladness most.”
“There arc now no secrets be
tween us,” said Lota, smiling; “take
this rifle; give me—the pistol; one
kiss—soli! they* come. Save me
from them at any* cost.”
I thought my* ears would have
split at their dreadful yells, for they |
were now upon us, opening out to
surround us; and though the horses
held bravely on, I dreaded every in
stant, that sheer terror Avould paral
ize them. It is scarcely* possible to
conceive the unutterable horror that
was circling us both; young lovers
with beating hearts, forever, from
that hour, interchanged Avith each
other.
With lolling tongues, eyes of flame,
hoarse, deep growls, they* had ceased
to bay* and howl ; they were closing
in upon us. 1 remarked one huge
monster in advance of the rest ; his
object evidently being to leap into
the sleigh from behind. I fired—and
missed him ! The next moment his
huge bulk came over the back; his
paws were on me, his fiery* breath on
my cheeks; and 1 expected, as I
murmured a short prayer, to feel the
fangs of the abhorrent brute in my
flesh. A flash ! —a crash ! —a gusli of
blood—and the creature tumbled
backward, shot through the neck, to
the spine, by my brave Lota! Then
I plied hatchet, and split skull af
ter skull, while the sleigh toiy on;
but I was giving up all hope, and
turning round oil, Heaven !to j
spare my darling a more hideous fate ;
when shots and shouts rang around,
and troops of dogs and hunters came
swiftly to our aid, and we were sav
ed !
Providence had directed the sleigh
to Windy-gap; our tiring reached
the hearing of our friends, and
brought them out in hot haste to aid
us. We were saved ; and as 1 bore
her fainting form into the hospitable
hall, and clasped her tenderly to my
bosom, you may* guess how sincere
was the gratitude I breathed in si
lence to Heaven.
It avus the prelude to a wedding,
which occurred soon afterwards;
and you may be sure I never forgot
my fight with the wolves, how pluck
ily my noble Lota backed me, or the
somewhat original and apropos mode
in which “1 Told My* Love.”
A Story avith a Moral.—Door
bell rings. The Rev. Mr. is in
troduced to the family room, Avhcro
three children are busily engaged at
play, snuggled in the corner of a
room—the mother busily engaged in
sewing. She rises to meet the “min
ister, ’ and salutes him,while he with
loftly cold repulsive dignity* say*s :
‘Good morning, Mrs. , are you
well to-day ?’ And dignified takes
a seat.
After a moment’s pause he says,
in the same unbending manner:
‘I trust, madam, that you have
been well since l saw y*ou last?’
‘Thank you sir—quite avoll.’
A brief pause.
‘I hope your family* have been in
health ?’
‘Well, I thank yon—aside from the
ordinary sickness of the children.’
Another pause.
‘I trust that you have found con
solation and rejoicing since my* last
visit,’ etc., etc.
And thus passed away* some ten
or fifteen minutes —the children all
the while having suspended their
play Avith a kind of indescribable
fear, Avhich children can look, glanc
ing wonderfully at their mother.
Rising to depart, with the same
unrelaxing dignity*, the clergv
man said:
‘I leave my* blessing with you and
your family, Mrs. , and bid you
good morning.’
Hardly hail the door closed, Avhen
a little boy of four y*ears ran towards
his mother, and clinging tightly* to
her dress, raised his eyes inquiring
ly, and with the simple earnestness
of a child, said :
‘Mamma, mamma, Avas dat Dod ?’
“Seven Up for :i Wife;” or Good
ai Wheat.
In the State of Team ss e, there is a
c >rtain village boasting of a tavern, three
stores and four groceries, where, fiom
morning till night, and from night till
dawn, a person entering the town nmv
find in the tavern, stores or groceries
aforesaid, one or more groups of persons j
playing cards. Gambimglhere is reduc
ed to science—the history of four kings
is thoroughly studied, and f-oni the !
school boy to the gray headed veteran,
from the miss in her teens to the mother
of a large family, they are initiated into
the mysteries of high, low, jack, game,
right and left bowers —the honors and
the odd trick. One ‘ f the best players
in the village w tts Major Smith, the tav
ern keeper; or as he expressed it, the
proprietor of the hotel ; a widower, who
like
• “Jeptha, Judge in Israel,
llad a daughter passing fair.”
Fanny the daughter, was one of the
prettiest girls in Tennessee, and there
fore one ol the prettiest in the world:
for we here digress in order to lay down
as ipse dixit, that Tennessee women, in
point of beauty are matchless. The
sweetheart of Fanny was a young far
mer, residing in the neighborhood, whom
we shall designate by the name of Bob.
It happened that one day before har
vest the young man was detained in the
village, and found him, as usual, at the
hotel, seated between the Major and
his daughter. After a desultory con- |
versation between the two gentlemen, on \
the state of the weather, the prospects of
the approaching harvest, and such impor
tant staples of conversation, the Major
asked Robert how his wheat crop prom
ised to yield. In reply, he was told that
the young farmer expected to make at
least one hundred bushels. The Major
appeared to study for a moment, then 1
abruptly proposed a game of old sledge,
or “seven up;” the stakes to be his
daughter Fanny against the crop of
wheat. This, ofcour.se the young man
indignantly refused, because he could
not bear the idea that the hand of her he
loved should be made the subject of a |
bet, or that he should win a w ife by gam- j
bling for her; and, perhaps, because he
knew the old man was “ hard to beat,”
and was a strong probability of his losing
both wheat and wife.
It was not until the Major, with his
usual obstinacy, had sworn that unless
he won her he should never have her,
that ihe young man was forced reluc
tantly to consent to play.
The table was placed, the candles lit,
the cards produced, and the players took
their seats, with Miss Fanny between
them to watch the progress of the game.
The cards were regularly shuttled and
cut, and it fell to the Major’s lot to deal.
The first hand was played, and Robert
made gift to his opponent’s high, low, j
game. Robert then dealt, the Major
begged ; it was given, and the Major
again made three to his opponent’s one.
“Six to two,” said Miss Fanny with
a sigh.
‘I he Major as he dealt the cards, wink
ed knowingly and said—
“l am good for the wheat, Master !
Bob.”
The old nun turned up a trump —it
was a spade. Fanny glanced at her
father’s hand—her heart sank ; he held
the three, eight spot and the king ! She |
then looked at Robert’s hand, and lo ! he :
held the ace, queen, duce and jack or
knave. She whispered Robert to beg—
he did so.
“Take it,” said the Major.
Robert led his duce, which the Major
took with his three spot, and followed
by playing the king; Robert put his j
queen upon it. The Major, supposing it
was the young man’s last trump, leaned
over tbe table, and tapping the last trick
with his finger, sn:d—
“That’s good as wheat.”
“Is it?” asked Robert, as he displayed
to the astonished Major the ace and jack
y6t in his hands.
“High, low, jack, gift andj the game,”
shouted Robert.
“Out!’’ ejaculated Fanny.
as wheat,” added Robert, as he
flung his arms around her neck and kiss
ed her.
In due time they were married, and
ever after that, w hen anything occurred
of a pleasing nature to the happy couple,
they would express their emphatic ap
probation of it by the phrase, “ Good as
wheat.”
Curious Facts.—Bees are geometri
cians. Tbe cells are so constructed as,
with the least quantity of material, to
have the largest sized spaces and the
least possible interstice.
The mole is a meteorologist.
The bird called the Nine-killer is an
arithmetician; also the Crow, the wild
Turkey, and some other birds.
The torpedo, the ray, and the electi ic
eel, are electricians.
The Nautilus is a navigator. lie
raises and lowers his sails, casts and
weight anchor, and performs other nauti
cal feats.
AVhole tribes of birds are musicians.
The Beaver is an architect, builder
and wood cutter. lie outs down trees,
and erects houses and dams.
The Marmot is a civil engineer. lie
does not only build houses but con
structs aqueducts and drains them dry.
The Ant maintains a regular standing
army.
Wasps are paper manufacturers.
Caterpiillers are silk spinners.
The Squirrel is a ferryman. With a
chip or piece of bark for a boat, and his
tail for a sail, he crosses streams.
Dogs, wolves, jackals, and many others,
are hunters.
The black bear and heron ai‘e fisher
men.
The ants are day laborers.
The monkey is a rope dancer.
For the Georgia Citizen.
Paul aiKl Susan in Ihe Fields.
Bung! went Paul’s new gun, and away
Jew a robin, and Paul declared lie never
saw birds so hard to kill in his life, —they
didn’t seein to inind powder and shot at all,
for he wm certain he had hit at least, a doz
en I
“May-be you don’t put in enough shot—
you ought to put in a handfull,” suggested
his sister
“ And bust the gun ! Don’t you recon I
know how to load my own gun? Now
watch me as I load, though its no use to try
to learn a gal anything! Y’ou see I put in a
charger of wadding first—powder I mean,
then comes the wadding, now u charger full
of shot, and more wadding. The gun’s
charged, Susan, and yonder sits another rob
in, When I put on this cap I’ll make his
feathers fly !”
‘When his gun was quite ready, he drew it
to his shoulder, ran lus eye along the barrel
and the bird flew.
“Mill-dam the luck I” angrily exclaimed
Paul, laying an unnecessary emphasis on the
last syllable. “ I didn’t even get a chance
to shoot before the mean thing flew!”
Paul, began Susan, raising her eyes heav
enward and heaving a deep sigh, as she re
collected having seen her mother do:—
“ Paul, it’s a naughty and a wicked thing to
cuss, and I shall tell mother.”
“ And who’s been cussin’ I wonder : Mill
dam is a very nice word, just as nice as mill
pond, and if one’s cussin’ the other is.
Y'ou are just like a woman, Susan, telling
everything you hear! You arenotquitea
woman yet, but you hare all the ingredients
of one, and when you get as old as mother—
whew! w’on’t you be one of’em! Nobody
will ever be able to think anything, but what
you w ill have it all over the neighborhood
in five seconds.
I don’t see what you females were made
for, but to torment the life out of we fellows,
and get us in all sorts of scrapes and fusses.
As for me, “ I’d rather be a bay dog in the
moon,” than be n woman ; as that iS’nak
speare book says, that father reads to me at
night, in the dining room. Don't see what
makes father read that book so much, it isn’t
half ns good as the “Adventures of Bob the
Squirrel.”
• “ What’s it about, Paul ?” queried Susy.
“What, that Shakspeare book ?” Well, its
about XiDgs ued Rueens, Storms, Dreams
and Men’s Wives, Windsor Chairs, Ghosts,
Dominoes and lots of things.”
“ Yes, but tell mo one ot the stories that
father read to you.”
“ 1 always get so sleepy I can’t remember
anything, and last night while he was read
ing about the two Dominoes, I w nt fa:t
asleep, and didn’t wake until father brought
his fist down on the table and said, in such a
stiange voice: “Paul, Paul my son, this is
Hamilton’s ghost!”
Oh, Susy, I felt chills creeping all up and
down my back. Iw:s so frightened, and I
thought Mr. Hamilton’s ghost was some
where in the room, untiH'ather showed me
a picture of it, in the book.
But Sue, I believe it was no ghost after
all, but old Scratch, in disguise!”
“ Oh, Paul, what makes you think that?”
Don’t you know mother tells us the bad man
has a long forked tail, and she ought to
know! And we’ve seen a picture of him
too.”
“ Yes, and that’s tho very reason why I
think this fellow was Satan disguised, for he
said himself, that he had a tail t\\ folded up!”
“Well, well!” ejaculated the wonder
stricken Susan. But, Paul, Ido wish you
would listen without going to sleep, and tell
me what father reads about.”
“Well, I will listen next time, and tell
you, if you will promise not to tell mother 1
said mill-dam ; though of course, its a verv
nice word.”
Sue, very readily promised, and through
the fields they trudged together homeward,
still discussing Hamilton’s ghost.
MOLLIE MYRTLE.
Sundry* Useful Receipts.—A hot
shovel held over varnished furniture will
take out white spots.
A bit of glue dissolved in skim milk
and water will restore old crape.
Ribbons of any kind should be wash
ed in cold soap suds, and not rinsed.
1 f your flat-irons are rough, rub them
well with fine salt, and it will make them
; smooth.
Oat straw is the best for filling beds.
It should be changed once a year.
If you are buying carpet for durability
choose small figure,
A bit of soap rubbed on the hinges of
doors, will prevent their creaking.
Scotch snuff, put out the holes where
crickets come out, will destroy them.
Wood ashes and common salt, wet
wite water, will stop the cracks of the
stove, and prevent the smoke from es
caping.
A gallon of strong ley put in a barrel
of water, will make it as soft as rain wat
er.
Half a cranberry hound on a corn will
! soon kill it.
Jn winter set the handle of your pump
as high as possible at night, or throw a
blanket over it.
gggT’Disappointed for office
at Washington complain that the Repub
licans have given away everything to
their enemies, and they threaten rebel
lion at home.
23f“IIorace Greeley predicts the
nomination ofScnator Douglas —the pre
diction being the fruit of a tour in the
Northwest.
Ir you wish your life to end Avell,
spend it well.
NUMBER 45*
Unfriendly Legislation of the North
ern States.
The Committee on the Harper’s Fer
ry affair, in the Virginia ‘Legislature,
close their elaborate and able report
with the following reference to the legis
lative enactments of the northern States,
which they very properly alledge, are
‘ conceived in a spirit of hostility to
the institutions of the South, at war
with the true inteut and meaning of the
Federal compact, and adopted for the
avowed purpose of rendering nugatory
some of the express covenants of the
Constitution of the United States. 5 ’
MAINE.
By the laws of this State it is provi
ded, that if a fugitive slave shall be ar
rested, he shall be defended by the At
torney for the Commonwealth, and all
expenses of such defence paid out of
the public treasury. The use of all
State and county jails and of all build
ings belonging to the State, are forbid
den ; the reception or securing fugitive
slaves, and all officers are forbidden, un
der heavy penalties, from arresting or
aiding in the arrest of such fugitives.
If a slaveholder or other persons shall
unlawfully seize or confine a fugitive
slave, he shall be liable to be imprisoned
for not more than five years, or fined not
exceeding §I,OOO. If a slaveholder take
a slave into the State, the slave is here
by made free ; and if the master under
take to exercise any control over him,
he is subjected to imprisonment for not
less than one year, or fined not exceed
ing §I,OOO.
The Dred Scott decision of the Su
preme Court has been declared uncon
stitutional, and many offensive and in
flammatory resolutions have been passed
by the Legislature.
NEW HAMPSHIRE.
Your committee have not had access
to a complete series of the laws of this
State. But a general index, which has
been consulted, shows that a law exists
by which all slaves entering the State,
either with or without the consent of
their masters, are declared free ; and
any attempt to capture or hold them is
declared to be a felony.
VERMONT.
This State seems to have entirely for
gotten the conservative and law abiding
sentiment which governed its action in
the earlier period of her history.
Iler law now forbids all citizens and
officers of the State from executing or
assisting to execute the fugitive slave
law, or to arrest a fugitive slave under
penalty of imprisonment for not less
than one year, or a fine not exceeding
§I,OOO. It also forbids the use of all
public jails and buildings for the purpose
of securing such slaves. The attorneys
for the State are directed, at public ex
pense, to defend, and procure to be dis
charged every person arrested as a fu
itive slave. The habeas corpus act also
provides that fugitive slaves shall be
tried by jury, and interposes other ob
stacles to the execution of the fugitive
slave law.
The law further provides, that all
persons unlawfully capturing, seizing or
comfining a person as a fugitive slave,
shall be confined in the State prison not
more than ten years, and fined not ex
ceeding §I,OOO. Every person held as
a slave, who shall he brought into the
Stages, is declared free, and all persons
who shall hold, or attempt to hold as a
slave any person so brought into the
State in any form, or for any time, how
ever short, shall be confined in the State
prison not less than one nor more fifteen
years, and fined not exceeding §2,000.
The legislature has also passed sundry
offensive resolutions.
MASSACHUSETTS.
The laws of this State forbid, under
heavy penalties, her citizens, and State
and country officers, from executing the
fugitive slave law, or from aiding in
either ; and denies the use of her jails
and public buildings for such purposes.
The Governor is required to appoint
commissioners in every county to aid
fugitive slaves in recovering their free
dom when proceeded against as fugitive
slaves, and all costs attending are direc
ted to be paid by the State.
Any person who shall remove, or at
tempt to remove, or come into the State
with the intention to remove, or assist
in removing any person who is not a fu
gitive slave, within the meaning of the
constitution, is liable to punishment by
fine not less than §I,OOO nor more §5,000
and imprisonment not less than one nor
more than five years.
Their habeas counts act gives trial by
jury to fugitive slaves, and interposes
other unlawful impediments to the exe
tion of the fugitive slave law. Her Leg
islature has also passed violent and of
fensive resolutions.
CONNECTICUT.
This State, which as late as 1840 toK
erated slavery within her own borders,
as appears by the census of that year,
prohibits, under severe penalties, all her
officers from aiding in executing the fu
gitive slave law, and vacates all official
acts which may be done by them in at
tempting to execute that law.
By the act of 1854, see, 1, it is provi
ded that every persor who shall falsely
and maliciously declare, represent or
pretend that any person entitled to free
dom is a slave, or owes service or labor
to any person or persons, with intent
to procure or to aid or assist in procur
ing the forcible removal of such free
persons from this State as a slave, shall
pay a fine of §5,000, and shall be im
prisoned five years in the State prison.
Sec. 2. In all cases arising under this
act, the truth of any declaration, repre
sentation or pretence that any person
being or having been in this State, is or
was a slave, or owes or did owe service
labor to any other person or persons,
shall not be deemed proved, except by
the testimony of at least two credible
witnesses testifying to facts directly
tending to the truth of such declaration,
pretence or representation, or by legal
evidence equivalent thereto.