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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