Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

— ■ ■■ ■ 11 ■ ■ i ■ ■ ■■■ 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.