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VO L. XT.
m GEORGIA JPffIISUMN
IS PUBLISHED F.VF.HT THURSDAY MOB NINO
BY WILLIAM CLINE,
At Two Dollars and Fifty Cents per an
nnm.orTvo Dollars paid in advance.
Ai>VKRTISKMIIWTB am tnsrrfrd at O .YE
OGt.T AR prr qnnrp,for the tirsl insertion, and
FIFTY CEBITS per square, Cor cadi insertion
♦ hereafter.
A reasonaWc ijediienon will he made to tliose
w ho advertise by the yen'.
Alt rdvertisements not otherwise ordered, will
tie continued till forbid.
fmst j. 'll.KS OF LANDS by Administrators,
K.vm dors or Guardians are required by law to be
field on the firsi Tuesday in the tnnnih, between
Mie hours o’ ten in tlie forenoon and three in the
sOrrnoon, at the Court-House, in the county in
w bii’ir the land is situated. Notice of these sale,
must be <;von in a public gazette FORTY DAYS
predous ‘o tlie day of sale,
S/ILFS OF NEGROES must lie made nt pah
lie. auction on the first Tuesday of the month, he
fwern the usual hours of sale, at the j lacc of pu ’
):c sale? til the county where the letters Telis
‘aen'.ar/, of Administration o*r Guardianship nit
have been granted; first wiving FORTY IK/]Y
notice thereof in one of the public giisiMrs <|
and al the court horse w lie c ruth salcn
eflK held.
riof .ee for the sale of Personal Prop, riv mus
1 .igiecn in like manner FORTY DAYS previous
i * ttic day of safe.
Notice tn Debtors and Creditors of an estate
mist lie published FORTY DAYS.
Notice that application will be inadeto the Court 1
Ordinary for leave to sf.li. land must be pub-1
isfi-'d for TWO MONTHS,
Notice for i.f.avk to sell nf.ciroes must he
Mililished TfVO MONTHS before any order ab
m'lite shall be. made thereon by the Court.
CITATIONS for Letters of Administration
must be published thirty days; for Dismission
from Administration, monthly six months; so
Di smission Irnm Guardianship, forty day- - .
Hales ton lie Foreclosure of Mortgage must be
onblisfie l monthly for four months, lor pub
tisling l.isf papers, for the full space of hirf.f.
mont.is; for compelling litlrs from Executors,
Jininislraiors. whcie a bond lias been givu.fq e
dro-asi and, for the space of three months.
We have been requested by a member
of the Methodist Church in this place, “in
gOv)d standing,” to republish the following
urticlc, copied from Arthur'a Home Mncja
zint. We do not believe it has any per
sonal or particular application to any one
here, or intended to have. But it incul
cates, in strong language, the moral taught
by the Redeemer, too much disregarded in
the present day, not to retch and hawk at
every insignificant gnat swallowed by your
neighbor, when you can take down a ca
mel into yonr own capacious stomach. An
overwrought zeal for the observances of
the Church, is not always the best evidence
of that love and charity that “hopeth all
things,” inculcated by the Mead of the
Church.
“Did yon go to Dr. to have him
cure you of lisping ?” said a gentleman in
Louisville, to a little boy who had been
tongue-tied,” or something of the sort.
“Yetb, thir,” answered the lad
“Did lie cure you ?”
“Yetb, lliir ”
“Why, you arc lisping now,”
“Am I,thir? Well, I don’t pertheive!
that I lithp, eclhepl when I go to thay j
thickthpenlh /”
If oar good friends in the church would j
only ‘’thay tliickihpcntli,” the ntost of j
them would find that they lisp a little.
Conformity to ttic World.
UY T. 8. ARTHUR.
Mr. Shaw and Mr. Gravcman were
members-of a certain denomination, which
can boast of as many worthy and truly <
pious members as any other sect of Chris-)
tians, and of quite as many “black sheep.” |
They were both engaged in the wholesale
grocery and flour business. One of them,
■Sir. Gravcman, held an official station in
the church. lie was what is called a
cla.-s leadcr, and feeling the importance of
liis station, assumed what to him seemed
a necessary sanctimonious exterior. lie
was scrupulously plain in liis own dress,
and strictly required his family to abstain
from all the vanities of this wicked world
Asa member of the church, among
members of the church, Mr. Gravcman
stood high. Asa business man, among
business men, he was known as one of the
closest of bargain-makers - too close to be
always an observer of the golden rule.—
Proverbial on the one side for exemplary
piety, lie was proverbial on the other side
for a selfish love of gain. He did not
take his religion iuto the world, for he
could not see that it had any business
there. Religion was for the Sabbath, and
bad relation only to acts of worship. The
faith most be sound, the external observ
ance rigid; these attended to, and the
man was a perfect Christian, lie could
Jo no wrong.
M?. Shaw, on the other hand, while he
was in a degree blinded to the Want of
true charity as exhibited in GravemaiPs
ordinary business intercourse with society,
by the glare of his piety, was himself a
very different man. Conscious of the he
reditary evils of his nature, too many of
which actual life hud confirmed almost in
to habit, and sincerely desirous to rise
above them, lie was really what the other
pretended to be—humble minded. And
there was no external parade of humility,
lie rarely took an active part in the af
fairs of his church, though anxious for
her prosperity, and ever ready to devote
to her Ins worldly goods or his time when
called upon to do so.
lu his family, lie acted the part ot a
lather. While Mr.
Gravcman of man
ner, and nipped with the frost oFTcbuke
every little blossom that began to open its
leaves on the tender plants that were
springing up around him, Mr. Shaw wunn
ed them into life and beauty by hrs sunny
smile. To one there was sin in a bright
ribbon, a beautiful dress, a bow or a flow
er; the other saw iu all external loveli
ness, whether in forms or colors, the good
things of God, and he used them, and
permitted his family to use them, with
grateful acknowledgements to the Giver of
all uatural us well as spiritual blessings.
He discriminated between the use and the
abuse; aud while the use is made prima
ry, the tendency to abuse was carefully re
strained. ,
‘‘Brother Shaw,” said Mr. Graveman,
one day, with an abrupt manner and a<
THE GEORGIA JEFFERSONIAN.
captions voice, “you will ruin your girls.”
lrppe not. What is the matter ?”
“You dress them too gnyly.”
“I let my wife attend to all that. She
knows better than I do what is suited to
them
our wife ! Would you let your wife
throw them into the dock if she thought
it suited them ? lam a plain spokesman,
Mi* Shaw, as you know, and my position
in the church requires me so speak plainly;
and I warn you now, as in duty bound, to
warn an erring brother, that if you do not
look better to your children, they will
grow np and become carnal-minded in
stead of lovers of the truth. They will
go out into the world and be lost; the
enemy of mankind will claim them as his
own ”
“\ou are very serious, Mr. Graveman;
but for my life I can see no danger.”
“No danger ? Bless me ! is there no
i danger in dressing up a child in flowers
and ribbons, and all sorts of gew-gaws to
turn her head and make a fool of her ?”
“A thing which I do not do.”
“Although yon permit vour wife to do
It.”
“No—nor does my wife do it. My
children are not dressed up in flowers and
j ribbons, and all sorts of gew-gaws.”
“Why, Mr. Shaw, I met two of your
i little girls, a minute ago, tricked up like
butterflies.”
“llow were they dressed ?”
“With gay frocks and gay shoes, and
ribbons and flowers all over.”
“Think again. What color was their
frocks !”
“What color? They were—they were
yes, they were white.”
“Nature’s own sweet emblem of inno
cence—the color of the virgin lily. May
their minds be ever as pure. I sec no
harm in a white frock for a child, but
good. I always like to see children dress-
ed in white.”
“It’s more than I do, Mr. Shaw. Not
one of my girls ever hacl or ever shall have
on a flashy white frock to make her proud.
But this wasn’t all. They were bedizen
ed, as I said before, all over with ribbons
and flowers.”
“How many ribbons did you see ? Think
again, Mr. Graveman.”
“There were gay red ribbons tied round
their waists, with ends streaming off some
yard or two behind.” j
“You did not sec correctly. Each of
the little things had a pale blossom-colored
ribbon around her waist, the ends not
over a quarter of a yard in length. In
each of their little hats was a cluster of
three budding roses and a few green leaves.
Do you see anything evil in flowers ?” ‘
“I do, when in children’s hats.”
“God made the flowers beautiful, and
gave them to us. I thank Him for the
gift. Oh I if my dear babes were as pure
and lovely as the flowers, how my heart
would rejoice, i keep flower vases in my
house, and growing flowers in my garden;
and that my children may love them more,
I let them use flowers as ornaments.”
“The evil one is blinding your mind,
brother Shaw; he is leading you away from
truth by his devices. You must not con
form to the world. Only worldly minded
people dress up their childrcu with rib
bons and flowers.”
“And they cat and drink, also Be- 1
cause worldly people eat fruits and plea
sant food, shall we use only what is coarse
and unpatatablfe ? I do not think so
Every creature of God is good, and I
will use all liis gifts in a thankful spirit,
and then I will be in no danger of abusing
them.”
Mr. Graveman expostulated still fur
ther, but without effect.
“I am seriously concerned about bro
ther Shaw,” he said- to another church
member. “I am afraid he still longs for
the flesh-pots of Egypt—that a worldly
spirit is taking possession of him. Have
you noticed how gayly all his family dress? ’
“Not particularly.”
“ 1 hey dou’t look like church people at
all.”
“Mr. Shaw is an excellent man. In
all the business I have had with him, I
have found him strictly honorable. He is
one of the few who are willing to live and’
let live. As to the way in which lie dress
es his family, that is altogether a matter
of taste ”
“Oh ! no, not at all; it is a matter of
sin. It is wicked for any one to put rib’
bons and flowers on children. But I shall
do my duty as far as I am concerned.—
ills daughter Ellen is a member of my
class. r l he very next time she comes, I
shall speak my mind to her plainly about
the way she dresses. It is scandalous 1
Is it any wonder that religion is brought
into disgrace when its professors indulge
such pride and vanity ? ’
Ellen Shaw, to whom allusion has just
been made, had, from her earliest child
hood, exhibited a sweetness of temper too
rarely scon. The current of her feelings
and thoughts had always been religious.
The consequent;? was that she became a
member of the church, and joined a class
meeting when only fourteen years o£ age.
For two years, Mr. Graveman had been
her class-leader, She saw him intimately
only in her class room, and his deep piety
and professed love of all the he ly things
of the church, caused her pure heart to in
vest him with every Christian grace and
virtue, and to bear toward him, on this
account, a deep spiritual regard To her
he seemed faultless.
Educated at home, in.a school less ri
gid than that in which Graveman was a
teacher, Ellen had not imbibed the holy
horror of what was lovely in external
forms that possessed her spiritual guide,
and she, under the eye of her mother, used
with taste and moderation, those orna
ments which expressed her love of the
beautiful. Her hair was dressed plainly
sometimes, and sometimes it was allowed
to fall about her young face in graceful
ringlets. Her bounet was ornamented
with a flower, if it pleased her taste; and
she chose the style of her bonnet in ac
cordance with the same rule. Taste was
her guide in dress.
All this was noticed by her class leader,
and it stirred within his heart a feeling,
which, little as he dreamed, if closely ana
lyzed, would have been seen to be—anger.
He called it a pious indignation at sin.—
|lt was not so—it was of the old man —
I Adam. Often he had determined to speak
GRIFFIN, (GA.) THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 7, 1854.
to Ellen bn the subject in class-meeting,
but thus far he had only remotely alluded
to the sin of a conformity to the world,
which his innocent pupil understood to
mean a conformity to selfish maxims and
evd purposes She did not dream that he
meant her ribbons, her curls, or the mo*
dost bunch of flowers in her bonnet.
The day after that on which the con
versation given above took place between
Mr. Graveman and Mr. Shaw, was the
one on which the former held liis class
meeting. The hour was 4 o’clock in the
afternoon. About 10 o’clock in the fore
noon, business called Mr. Graveman to the
wharves.
“How much flour have you ?” asked a
merchant, into whose store ho went for
the transaction of some business.
“Five hundred barrels,” was replied.
“Then you are two hundred and fifty
dollars richer than you were a while ago.”
“Indeed ! How?” eagerly asked Mr.
Graveman.
“Private advices have been receiver]
from New York, announcing a rise of fifty
cents in the barrel,” replied the merchant.
“First-rate, isn’t it?” and Graveman
rubbed Isis hands together ih unaffected
delight.
“It is pleasant news, certainly, to all
who have flour on hand ”
“Have you much in store ?”
“A few hundred barrels.”
“Capital ! You are like me, a lucky
dog. But, good morning—good morning;
1 must be going. I have a good deal of
business to do on the wharf.”
Graveman left the store abruptly. A
sudden thought had struck him. Instead
of transacting the business which he pre
tended required his attention, he walked
hurriedly to the Exchange, jumped into an
omnibus, and rode some six or eight
squares. Then, getting out, lie walked
at a very leisurely pace for about half a
square farther. This brought him to the
store of Mr. Shaw, which he entered.
“Brother Shaw, how do you do this
morning ?” he said, with a sweet, Christian
smile, as he took the hand of his fellow
church-member.
“Quite well, now are you ?”
“Very well, thank you. Have you
been out this morning ?”
“No. Is there any news stirring ?”
“Nothing of consequence— business lea
ther dull ”
“Yes; there insn’t much doing.”
“How is flour going to be, brother
Shaw? Do you think there will boa rise?”
“I am sure I cannot tell. I should ra
ther think not. At any rate, I would be
very willing to sell at eight and seven
eighths.”
“How much have you in store?”
“Three or four hundred barrels.”
Mr. Graveman cast his eyes to the floor
thoughtfully, and mused for some moments.
“I have an idea that it will advance a
trifle in the course of a few weeks.”
“More likely to fall.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Oh! it’s a mere idea of mine. The
market has been firm for some time. If
you really wish to sell, I feel half inclined
to buy. I have money lying idle.”
“It is more than I have, if you want;
my flour yon can have it and welcome at
eight and seven-eighths.”
“Couldn’t you say eight e'ghty-fivc for
ail you have?”
“No; lam not anxious lo sell. If you
choose to take it at the prevailing rates,
you can do so.”
“Very well. Wliat is the quantity in
store?”
“I can ascertain in a moment; 1 ’ and Mr.
Shaw referred to liis ledger. “Three hun
dred and eighty barrels.”
“All right j make out the bill, and I will
draw you a check.”
The bill was made out, and a check for,
the amount filled, up and handed to Mr.
Shaw. The two men shook hands in a ve
ry brotherly manner, and Gravemen de
parted full of selfish delight at the con
sciousness of having made an operation
that would net him at least two hundred
dollars. To him it was a fair business
transaction—all right in trade. The mor
al of the act was a thing of which he had
no conception. If he was wider awake
than his* neighbor, ho could sec no reason
Why he ought not to profit by his acute
ness.
On the afternoon of the day on which
Mr. Graveman had increased liis gains by
his operation of such questionable morali
ty, lie put on his most sanctimonious face
and clothed his spirit in a robe of facti
tious piety, to meet and instruct in hea
venly things some fifteen or twenty young
persons, who were sincerely desirous of
hearing the truth, that they might bring
its precepts into life. On his way to the
class room, lie dismissed from his mind
with an effort some thoughts that were not
the most pleasant in the world—they re
ferred to the business transaction of the
morning—and began to think about the
different members of his class, and’What lie
should say to each. Among the first a
bout whom he thought was Ellen'Shaw.
“1 shall speak my mind to sister Shaw
very plainly,” he said, as lie walked along,
with ni& eyes upon the pavement. “If she
is lost, the sin shall not lie at my door.—
I will clear the skirts of my garments.—
Curls and flowers and ribbons! Beau
catchers and heart-breakers! All devices
of Satan. Silly child! to sell her soul for
head-gear aud gay dresses. No wonder
that she mourns over her want of faith,
and is ever complaining that she makes
little or no progress onward. lam sick,
sick of this. Not a bright face do I meet;
not a cheerful experience do I hear. It
is leanness of soul, and doubt, and fear
and complaint. But no wonder; the car
nal mind is enmity against God, and they
arc all drawn away from faith by a love
of the world. But I must do my duty; I
must thunder the law and its terrors in
their ears. I have a duty to perform, and
it shall be done.”
In this frame of mind Mr. Graveman
went to meet his class. The room iu which
it was held was the back parlor of a mem
ber. When the leader came in he found
about twelve females present. They were
seated, each* apart from the rest, with
grave, almost solemn faces, and eyes cast
upon the floor. Scarcely a head was
raised as he came iu. Graveman spoke to
no one, but walked to a table at the side
of the room with a slow, measured step*
and seating himself, crossed his hands upon
his face, and remained for nearly a minute
in silent prayer. The stillness of death
reigned around. With a deep sigh that
had three or four responses, the leader at
length withdrew his hands, raised his head,
and lie took up a hymn book, from which
’ he selected a hymn and read it over aloud.
Then repeating the two first lines of the
first verse, he raised a tune in which all
joined and sung them over. Two more
lines were read, and the singing resumed,
and thus the whole hymn was sung two
lines at a-time. After the two last lines
were repeated all knelt down; and the
leader prayed a long, loud and fervent
prayer. Then the leading commenced.—
The first sister was asked to relate her ex
perience for the week, which was done,
and the leader gave her such advice, en
couragement, consolation or admonition
as he deemed most usclbl. The next and
the next were called upon, and suitable in
struction imparted to each. Occasionally
a verse of some appropriate hymn was
sung. The whole scene was deeply im
pressive, and calculated to inspire the most
solemn thought.
At length young sister Shaw was asked
to tell what had been her exercises thro’
the week. In a low, timid, but clear
voice, Ellen made her statement. She
complained of short-comings, of the ten
dency of her heart to lead her away
from spiritual things, of her want of faith,
yet expressed an earnest desire to be con
formed in all things by the renewing of her
mind to the pure precepts of the Gospel.
On taking her seat, a deep silence of some
moments followed. Then her leader said
in a severe voice:
“Sister Ellen Shaw, you complain of
coldness and want of faith. You have
complained thus ever since you joined my
class. And no wonder! Heretofore I
have not spoken to you as freely as I
should have done; but, by the help ol
God, I will now do my duty. You will
never be anything but a drooping, wayside
professor, until you come out and renounce
the world and its lying vanities: until you
make a whole sacrifice; uutil every foolish
and vain desire be laid upon the altar.
Do you think this will be admitted into the
kingdom of Heaven ?” (As he said this,
he stooped down and took a long, beauti
ful ringlet of hair in his fingers, and held
it up.) “No, child; all this must fall be
fore you can pass through the narrow
gate. These ribbons and flowers”—and
he touched roughly her bonnet— ‘ will not
go with you beyond the grave. Death
will pale the colors in this gay dress. Ah,
sister Shaw, if you wish lo be a Christian,
you must give up all these; you must give
up the world; you must let the curls and
ribbons and flowers go. it is a vain ef
fort, child; you cannot serve two masters.”
This and much more, was said in a cruel
way. Poor Ellen burst into tears, and
wept bitterly. In the innocence of her
pure young heart, she feared that all this
might be true, and her distress was most
poignant. On returning home, her mo
ther saw that she was much disturbed, and
asked the reason. Ellen related, with
overflowing eves, what her lender had
said.
“Do not let it make you feel so bad.
dear,” Mrs. Shaw said, tenderly. “If
you do not set your heart on your dress,
there is no harm in it.”
“But Mr. Graveman says it is conform- 1
ing to the world, and lie, you know, is
such a good man.”
“Yes I know lie is a pious man ; but
for all that he may be mistaken in some
things. God looks at the heart, Ellen,
and if that is right all that flows from it
is right to Him. A mere sanctimonious
exterior is nothing if the heart is not true
iu its love. If you curl your hair with an
evil intention, or wear a ribbon or a flow
er to do harm, then it is sin ; but if be
cause you love what is bright and beauti
ful, the precious gifts of Heaven, 3 r oa a
doru your person modestly, be sure that
there is in it no harm. I think a woman
should adorn herself, not in gaudy, flaunt
ing colors, to attract admiration, but
tastefully, that she may throw around her
self everything to make her lovely, and
thus to increase her power of influencing
all for good. A woman, Ellen, is born to
be loved, and to love; let everything in
her mind and person be lovely, and she
will bring blessedness to all.”
But Ellen’s spiritual instructor had
taught a different lesson. How should she
decide? She had great confidence in her
mother, because she knew her well, and
loved her only as a child can love a consis
tent, wise and good mother; But Mr.
Graveman, whose piety and knowledge of
the doctrines which led the Way to Hea
ven, she had never heard questioned, had
said that it was sin to adorn the person.
When Mr. Shaw came home that eve
ning, he asked for Ellen.
“She has been in her room since she
came home from class-meeting, this aftcr
noon, in great distress of mind.”
“How so?” Mr. Shaw’s brows con
tracted.
“Mr. Graveman has been talking very
harshly to her, I think.”
“Hehas?” What diil lie say?
“He rebuked her before the whole cluss
for curling her hair aud wearing flowers in
her bonnet; and £|ie poor child is distress
ed to death’ lest in doing so she is sinning
against God.”
“Oh, dear! I am afraid Graveman is an
arrant hypocrite.”
“Why, Mr. Shaw! you must.not say so;
that is very uncharitable.”
“I don’t kuow. But ask Ellen’ to come
down.”
“She is so much disturbed in mind that
I think you had better not see her now.”
“I wish to put her mind at ease. I
think I can do it-”
Ellen was called down. She met her
father with a forced smile on a sad face.
“1 have heard from your mother, Ellen,
what has occurred,” the father said, taking
his child teuderly by the hand, and draw
ing’her dowu into a chair by his side;
but do not let it disturb you—you have
done no wrong. Have I not always taught
you that God looks only at the heart? A
sweet fountain cannot send forth bitter
waters. If yo do not have an evil end in
view, your act cannot be evil iu the sight
of Heaven. Never forget this. Are flow
; ers the offspring of that cause which doom-
ed the ground to bring forth thorns and
thistles? No, Ellen; they do not corres
pond to vile and wicked affections that
curse, but to pure and good affections that
bless the ground. Stili use them, Ellen,
and and ) not fear; they are good gifts
Only see that you do not love the flower
for some base end. See that you do not
use ornaments fur a selfish purpose.”
“But Mr. Graveman is eucli a good
man, father, he ought to know.”
A deep shadow passed over the face of
Mr. Shaw. He was disturbed; but his
feelings calmed, and he replied*, in. a low,
steady, but earnest voice—“My child, I
have, until now, thought as you do, and
therefore was always glad that you felt
like remaining a member of his class-meet
ing; but something has occurred to-day
that has opened my eyes I do not be
lieve him to be an honest man.”
“Oh, father, do not say so!” A shade
of anguish rested on the countenance of the
girl.
“I fear it is, alas! too true. He took
advantage of my ignorance to wrong me
out of two hundred dollars.”
“My father!”
“I have tried every way to satisfy my-‘
self that there was no evil intent on his
part, but every inquiry has only tended to
prove that he took a deliberate advantage j
of me—iu fact, cheated me! That is the
right way to call it.”
What the reader already knows was
then briefly related. Mr. Shaw had dis
covered, a short time after ho sold his
flour, the rise in price. At first he could
not believe that Graveman knew at the
time that the price had risen; but when
laughed at tor suffering himself to be over
reached, through ignorance, lie could no
longef* doubt.
“Do you call that honest dealing, El
len?” Mr. Shaw asked, after telling all.
“No father,” was firmly replied.
“Could he be in heart an honest man
who would do so?—a lover of the breth
ren?”
“No, father.”
“Right, my child; he could not. And
think further. Is a man so thoroughly
selfish in feeling likely to perceive clearly
spiritual truths that are above and out of
the sphere of sell? You see, then, how lit
tle reliance you should place on the cant
of Mr. Graveman, whose classroom you
will not, lam sure, again enter. Ellen,
you know your father and mother better ;
they tell you to keep your heart unspotted,
to see that there is in it no conformity to
the selfish maxims of the world; to use
with grateful thanks to the Giver of all
blessings, the good things that are present
ed to your hand. But while you adorn
your body, be sure that the green leaves
and bright flowers and warm colors arc
around your heart. Be sure that your
thoughts and affections are right, and
then all things corresponding to these you
may freely use.”
Ellen’s mind discriminated clearly. She
was deeply pained, but the truth was so
clear that she could not. sec beyond it.—
She never again entered the class-meeting
of Mr. Graveman, who took every oppor
tunity to allude to it, and gave as the rea
son that lie had done his duty, but that
the truth was too plain for her vain, proud
heart.
We have been favored by J. S. Red
mond, of New York, the publisher, with
some extracts from the forthcoming
‘‘Auto-biography of Barnum,” which will
be out about the middle of this month.—
We make the following extract:
A Perilous Journey.
In 1536, I was travelling in the South
as proprietor of a “show,’’ which was
called “13 irnutn’s Grand Scientific and
Mus : cal Theatre.” The performances
consisted of feats of legerdemain .and bal
ancing by Jue Pentium' 5 plate-dancing,
stilt performances and jugg'ing by Signor
Vivaila, (the little Italian whom I picked
up while exhibiting old Joice Heth in Al
bany,) and Negro extravaganzas by Bob
White and others.
Pentland’s legerdemain table had the
usual trapdoor for passing things to his
assistant, preparatory to the magical trans
formations presented to the spectators.—
The quarters below were painfully nar
row for a man of my size, but I volunteer
ed for the occasion in the absence of the
diminutive employee m that line of busi
ness. Squeezing into the allotted space,
I found that my nose and my knees were
likely to become acquainted by close con
tact —Nevertheless, though heartily wish
ing myself out ot the scrape, 1 held a live
squirrel in my hand, ready to wind the
chain of a watch around his neck and
hand him up through the trap door when
needed.
PentlanTs arrangementsof vases, cups,
balls, and divers other accompaniments
of legerdemain, were on the lable. In
due time, he called for a watch with a
gold chain. One of the spectators favor
ed him with the article, and it was soon
passed into my possession, under a vase
and through the little trap door in the top
of the table. Awkwardly performing my
pari, the squirrel bit me severely; I shriek
ed with pain, straightened my neck first,
then my back, then my legs, overthrew
the table, smashed every breakage arti
cle upon it, and rushed behind the cu rtain!
The squirrel galloped off with the watch
around his neck. Pentland ‘was struck
ispeechless, but if ever there was hooting
and shouting in a mass of spectators, it
was heard that night.
In passing fro.n Columbus, Georgia,
to Montgomery, Alabama, we were
obliged to travel eighty miles through a
very thinly settled and desolate portion
of country knowu as the “Indian Nation.”
At this tune our government was gather
ing in the Indians, and lodging them in en
campments at various posts under a stiong
guard, preparatory for their migration to
Arkansas. The chief portion of the In
dians came in voluntarily, and were wil
ling to be removed to ihtrr new home;
but there was a good number of “hostiles”
who would not coine in, but who infested
the swamps near the road leading from
Columbus to Montgomery, and who al
most daily murdered passengers who had
occasion to pass through the “Indian Na
tion.” Many consideced it hazardous to
pass over the road without a strong escort.
Ihe day previous to our starting, the
mail stage had been stopped, the passen
gers all murdered, and the stage burned,
the driver escaping almost by a miracle.
It was with much trepidation that we de
termined upon incurring the risk. Our
chief hope was, that owing to the large
number composing our company, and the
Indians being scattered in small bands,
our appearance would be too formidable
for them to risk an attack. We all arm
ed ourselves with guns, pistols, bowie
knives, etc., and started on our journey.
None ot us fell ashamed to acknpwl
edge that we dreaded to incur the risk,
except Vivalla. Me was probably the
greatest coward amongst us, but like
most of that class when they feel pretty
safe, he swaggered and strutted about
“i’h much apparent importance, laugh
ing at us for our fears, aud swearing that
he was afraid of nothing, but if he met
fifty Indians, “he should give them one
devil of a licking, and sehd dem back to
de swamp in no lime.” The cowardly
little braggadocio vexed us much, and
we determined if we ever got through to
put his Courage to the test.
The first day we travelled thirty miles
without seeing any Indians, and before
night came to a halt at he house of a cot
ton planter, who kept us safe till morning.
Ihe next day we proceeded safely to
I uskegee, a small village where there
was an encampment of fifteen ! uidred li
dians, including squaws and children.—
The third day we arrived at Mount Meigs,
where there was another “Indian camp”
containing twenty five hundred of the red
skiiis. We were now within fourteen
miles of Montgomery, and felt out of all
danger. But being determined to play a
trick upon the courageous Vivalla, we
informed him the next morning that we
had to pass over the most dangerous por
tion of the road, as it was said to be in
fested with desperate hostile warriors.—
Vivalla, as usual, was ail courage; saying,
“he only 7 hoped he should see some of the
copper-colored rascals; how he would
make dem run.” When we h.td travelled
about six miles, and had come to a dismal
looking, thickly wooded place, a large
fox squirrel crossed the road, and ran in
to (he adjoining woods. Vivalla propo
sed pursuing it. This was just what we
wanted; so giving a hint to several who
were in the secte*, we hal ed, and they
went with Vivalla in pursuit of the squir
rel. In the meantime Pentland slipped
on an old Indian dress with a fringed
hunting shirt and moccasins, which we
had secretly purchased at Mount Meigs,
and coloring his face with Spanish brown,
which we had obtained for the purpose,
and mounting his head with a cap of col
ored feathers, he shouldered a musket
and followed the track of Vivalla and his
parly, looking as much like a leal Indian
as any we had seen the day previous in
the camp. When he had got near them,
he approached stealthily, and was not dis
covered till he leaped in their very midst,
and uttered a tremendous “whoop.”
Yivalla's companions,’ who were all in
| the joke, instantly fled in the direction of
the wagons,’ and Vivaila himself, half
frightened to death, exhibiting great
swiftness of foot in his endeavors to take
the same route, but the artificial Indian
betrayed ex'retne partiality and malignity
in allowing all the others to escape, and
devoting hs whole attention to “heading”
the Italian. The poor little fellow yelled
like a wild man, when he saw the mus
ket of the Indian pointed towards him,
and found there was no possible means
of escape, except by running in the direc
tion opposite to where we were waiting.
He ran like a deer, jumping over fallen
trees andetumps with remarkable quick
ness, not daring to look behind him. —
Pentland, who was the most nimble on
foot, allowed the Italian to keep about
four rods ahead, while he followed, gun
in hand, uttering a horrible Indian yell
at every other step. The race continue I
nearly a mile when the Signor, completely
out of brea'h, perceiving his red skin ad
versary last gaining on h ; m, stopped, and
throwing himself on his knees, begged for
life. The Indian pretended not to un
derstand English, levelled his gun at Vi-
Valla’s bead, but the poor fellow writhed
and screeched like a panther; and, carry
ing on a pantomime, gave the Indian to
understand that life was all he asked, and
if that was spared, every thing he posses -
sed was at the service of his foe. The
savage appeared to relent, and to under
stand the signs made hy the Italian.—
He took his musket by the muzzle and
rested the breech upon the ground, at
the same time motioning to his trembling
victim to “shell out.”
Quick as thought, Vivaila turned his
pockets inside out, and the ludian seized
his purse containing eleven dollars. This
was all the money he had about him, the
rest being deposited in a trunk in one of
our wagons.’ Gloves, handkerchiefs,
knives, etc., were next offered up to ap
pease the wrath of the savage; - but he
looked upon the offerings with disdain.—
Then motioning the Italian to rise from
bis knees, the poor fellow got up, and
was led by his conqueror like a lamb to
the slaughter. The savage marched him
to a large aud stately oak, where he pro
ceeded, with the aid of a handkerchief,
to tie his arms in the most scientific and
Indian like manner around the trunk of
the tree.
The red skinned warrior then departed,
leaving poor vivaila more dead than alive.
Pentland hastened to join us, and doffing
his wampum dress and washing his fact,
we ail proceeded in quest of the Italian.
tVe found the little fellow tied to the tree,
nearly dead with fright, but when he saw
us his joy knew no bounds. We loosened
his hauds, and he jumped and laughed,
aud chattered like a monkey. His cour
age returned instantly, and he swore that
after his companions left him, the Indian
was joined by hail a dozen others; that if
he had kept his gun, he should have shot
one and beat out the brains of the other
six, but being unarmed, he was obliged
to surrender. We pretended to believe
bis story, and allowed him to repeat and
brag over his adventures for a week af
terwards, at which time we told him the
joke. Chagrin and mortification sat on
every line of his countenance, but he sood
rallied, and swore that it was all “one
great lif-.”’ Pentland offered him his
eleven dollars, but he would not touch
it, for he “swore like a trooper” that it
could not he his, for seven Indians took
his money from him. Many a hearty
laugh did we have over the valor of the
little Italian, bnt were at last obliged to
drop ti e subject altogether, for the mere
allusion to it made him so angry and sur
ly that we could not get a pleasant word
out of him for a week afterwards. But
from that time we never heard the Signor
boast of his courage, or make any threats
against a foe, real or imaginary.
The War in the East.
.We select the following extracts from
our recent exchanges:
The War.— Sebastopol holds stoutly
out. ‘I he substance of the news is that
the Allies had met with an important
check, and had not made mnch progress.
General Canrobert sends officially to the
French Minister of War, under date 22d
October, that “the French approaches
continued to advance according to previ
ous plans. ‘1 he difficulties met with are
two-fold, viz: the rocky nature of the soil;
and secondly, the heavy caliber of the ene
my’s artillery, while the French can only
depend on their 68-pounders and 12-inch
mortars. This explains the delay.
On the night of the 20th, the enemy
attempted to spike the French gnns, but
failed; bnt the Russians who did enter the
batteries were killed. The French losses
are not so great as might be expected, and
the wounded were all sent to Constanti
nople, where the hospitals are in an effec
tive condition. The health of the army
is, on the whole, satisfactory, although
sickness has appeared among the gunners
from the ships
The intelligence from the Crimea, is
quite conflicting, bnt sufficient is known to
convince the min’d that great destruction
of life is daily taking place. A telegra
phic dispatch appeared two days ago via’
St. Pctefsburgh, to the effect that Lipran
di’s forces attacked on the 25th the left
vying of the allied army, killed a great
many men, with five hundred horses, and
captuted eleven cannon.
The position of Austria in this ques
tion, is precisely where it was. She has
actually done nothing antagonistic to Rus
sia, and it is a question, has she ever had
any real intention of doing anything
against her friend who has so frequently
protected her from her own weakness ?
The views of Inc’ allied powers, as re
presented by intelligent exponents of their
policy, a few weeks ago, was, that they
would force the Czar, during the present
campaign, to a peace on their own terms;
that they would hold the Crimea perma
nently as a security against Russian ag
gression; that they would thus Command
the Black Sea, and would open it to the
commerce of the world, including that of
the Uuited States; whereas, it lias been,
while under Russian power, a sort of
“Russian Lake.” This was a Vfery flat
tering prospect, and one that failed with
the glories of the indecisive battle of the
Alma. m
Now, it is admitted that even tlie suc
cess of the siege of Sebastopol will not
bring peace, and will, in fact, be only the
commencement of the war; and it may bo
well added that the war is of doubtful re
sult. We are now looking, not so much
to the progress of the siege of Sebastopol
as to the great battle which must soon be
fonght bet ween the besiegers and the pow
erful army Under Priuce Mcnsehikoff
Russia has at least six hundred thousand
men under arms, and is evidently prepar
ed for every emergency. The allies are
redoubling their efforts in preparation for
the prosecution of the war, not only in tho
Crimea, but, next year, in the Baltic.—
The immense amount of capital and of re
sout:es that will thus be deviated from
commerce and the ordinary industrial pur
suits of Europe will not fail to embarrass
trade all over the world, and to have a
most depressing effect upon the business
interests of the United States, diminishing
the foreign demand for our exports and
securities, throwing our shipping out of
employment and retarding the completion
of improvements vvliich require tho aid of
foreigu capital.
Singular Optical Illusion. —The
Paris correspondent of the New York
Times, states that a gentleman living in
Brussels, somewhat troubled by cobwebs
rfnd spots in his eyes, rubbed them one
night with a few drops of extract of bel
ladonna. In the morning the cobwebs
had gone, but the whole outer fare of the
world had changed. liis newspaper,
which had been placed by bis bedside,
was composed of type so small that he
could hardly decipher it. He rang the
bell and his stout serving wench had
shrunk into a thin little girl of ten years.
He got up in a great fright and looked
after his clothing; they were the garments
of a child but as his own limbs had di
minished in proportion, be easily got in
to them. He found Axis wife and children
at the table, the former a dwarf) the lat
ter a row of dolls He hurried off to his
physicians; the hordes he met looked like
dogs, and dogs like rats. Everything 1
was Lilliput and Cinderella. Lotions
were applied to the victim’s eyes, and
the next day Brobdignag returned bring
ing back the cobwebs and spots. This
phenomenon, called micropie, doec not
seem to have occurred more than e half
a dozen times; though it may be brought
oo by the employment of certain substan
ces at will.
“I am gia 1 to fiul you bettor,” said
John Hunter, the famous Surgeon, to
Foot, the equally famous actor, one
morning, “you followed my prescription
of course ?”
“IndeeJ I did not, doctor,” replied
Sam, “for I should have broken my neck.’
“Broken your neck?” exclaimed Hun
ter, in amazemen*.
“Yes,’said Foot, “for I threw your
prescription out of a three story win"*
dow.”
Being asked to give a definition of non
sense, T)r, Johnson replied, “Sir, it is non
sense to bolt a door with a bqilod carrot,”
No. 49