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VOL. I—NO. 13. ®|t Hamilton Visitor D. W. D. BOULLY, Proprietor. CASH SUBSCRIPTION RATES. One copy one year $2 00 One copy tix mouths $1 00 One oopy three months 75 Any one furnishing five -subscribers, with the money, will receive a copy free. Subscribers wishing their papers changed from ODe post-office to another, must state the name of the post-office from which they wish it changed,* as well as that to which they wish it sent. All subscriptions must be paid in advance. The paper wiil be'stopped at the end of the time paid for, unless subscriptions are pre viously renewed. py nifty numbers complete the year. CASH ADVERTISING RATES. “ Space I1 mo 3 mos 6 mos |l2 raos 4 fddh' $2 60 $1 60 $6 00 *UMW 2 4 60 7 25 11 00 18 00 3 “ 500 9On 15 00 22 00 4 “ 6 60 IX 00 Is 00 27 00 J col 650 14 00 25 00 35 00 £ col 112 60 25 00 40 00 60 00 1 col |22 (JO 41 0J 62 00 100 00 Marriages and deaths, not exceeding six lines, published free. Payments quarterly in advance,- according to schedule rates, unless otherwise agreed upon. Persons Bending advertisements will state the lengih of time they wish th.-m published and |bp space they want them to occupy. Partieradyertisiug by contract for a given time, will be charged extra for everything outside of their legitimate business. IL LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS. Sheriffs sales, per inch, four weeks. .$3 BO “ mortgage fi la sales, per inch, eight weeks... ....< 6SO Citation for letters of administration or guardianship, thirty da>s 3 OS Notice to debtors and creditois, forty days...., 5 00 Application for leave to sell land, four weeks 1.. 4 00 Sales of land, etc , per inch, forty days 5 00 “ perishable property, per inch, ten days 2 00 ApplicatiqaYoj;. letters of dismission from guaidianship, forty days... 5 00 Application for letters of dismission from administration, three mouths 7 B 0 Establishing lost pApere, the fulfepace of three months, per inch 7 00 Compelling titles from executors' or administrators, where bond has been given by the deceased, the full space of three months, per inch, 7 00 Estray notices, thirty days 3 CO Rule for foreclosure of mortgage, four months, monthly, per inch 6 00 Sale of insolvent papers, thirty days. 3 00 Homestead, two wet U 5.... j 200 Business Car cis LIVERY AND SALE STABLE, At the Brick Corner, Within twenty steps of the Car-shed, WEST POINT, GA. W. L. WILLIAMS, Proprietor. THOS. S. MITCHELL, Eesident Physician and Surgeon, HAMILTON, GEORGIA Special attention given to Operative Sur gery and treatment of Chronic Diseases, i ar Terms cash. Xi-A/W". Jas. M. Mobley "Will continue to practice law in all the State and United States Couits. Office, Hamilton, Ga. n. A. Russell, ATTORNEY AT LAW, HAMILTON, GEORGIA ID* Special attention given to collections. CHATTAHOOCHES HOUSE, By J. T. HIGGINBOTHEM, WEST POINT, G A HENRY O. CALMER ON” Attorney at Law, IIA MILTON, GA DR. J. W. CAMERON, HAMILTON, GA. Special attention to Midwifery. Charg-s moderate. Mines Dossier, ATTORNEY’-At-LAW, WAVBJtLY HALL, GEORGIA Special attention will Be given to all busi ness placed So my hapds. bo-2 ly W. J-FOGLE, Dentist, COLUMBUS, GEORGIA Office in the building of the Georgia Home Insurance Company. feb'Zl lyr KAJS KIIST HOUSE -r COLUMBUS, GA. J. W. RYAN, Prop’r. Frank Golden, Clerk. RUBY* RESTAURANT, Bar and. Billiard Saloon, UNDER THE RANKIN HOUSE. janio J. W. RYAN, Prof’r. SAMUEL WILLIAMS ' Will be fourd at bis old stand, ready to shoe yocT horses, aud .do amthieg else in his liue. Solicits public patr. nage. net THE SUN FOR 1873. Special Announcement. The Sun has entered upon the New Year with several important changes, which wiH, We trust, commend it yet more to the patronage of the reading public. The subscription to the Daily is reduced from‘ten to Eight Dollars Per Annum; Two Dollars per Quarter; 75 Cents per Month. * The purpose of this i*eduction is to place the Daily within reach of those of every class who desire to read— the workingman and the farmer, as well as of the merchant and cap italist. While The Sun is not quite @o large as our cotemporaries of this city, and we shall not attempt to complete with them in the amount of general reading, we promise that as. A NEWSPAPER. its shall be second to none in the city or State in quantity of news, either Foreign, National, Slate or Local. Our MARKET REPORTS shall be very full and strictly reliable, and this, we are sure, will be an at traction for our readers, especially those out of the city. Our EDITORIAL STAFF receives two valuable accessions, in the persons of Mr, C. H. (J. Willing harir, (late editor of the La Grange Reporter) in the Political Depart ment, and Mr. W. 11. Moore, well known in this city by a former con nection with The Sun as its City Editor. The Editorial corps of The Sun will be as follows: A. 11. Stephens, Political Editor, S. A. Ecuols, Associate Editor. C. H. C. Wilunghaji, Assistant. Political Editor, Pascal J. Moran, News Editor. W. H, Moore, ) A. J, Hulsey, f Clt y Edllors - With this corps of writers, we enter The Sun upon the New Year, soliciting of the public patronage, which we shall endeavor continually to merit. Weekly, §2 per Annum. Letters and remittances for The Sun should be addressed Samuel A Ecuols, Business Manager. 1873 THE 1373 Southern €ljristtan '2li)uocate. F. M. KENNEDY, D. D., Editor. THIRTY-SIXTH VOLUME. This old and well established relig ious family weekly is devoted to Re ligion and tlie Church; to literature, science, art, the news, the markets, advertisements, etc., etc. It is proposed to keep it equal to any family newspaper in the country —being all that a family that takes but one paper can need; and also worthy of a place with other papers, where several are taken. Tekms : $2 a year, in advance. The Ministers of the M. E. Church, South, both itinerant and local, are agents for the paper. Address, J. W. Burke & Cos., Macon, Ga. RATES OF ADVERTISINGI One dollar per square—one inch being a square—for each insertion. Gash only—not the goods adver tised—taken for advertising. No advertisement inserted from abroad, without a responsible refer ence, known in Macon. In advertising medecines and med ical specialties, nothing will he ad mitted improper in itself, or believed to be of hurtful tendency. Publish ers and editor disclaim ah knowledge of the merits of specifics advertised, and will not indorse them, in any manner whatever, or be held respon sible for their effects. Advertisements will not be admit ted among reading matter at any price whatever; neither will special notices or local notices be inserted. TRIED AND APPROVED! ©mnsiiipiss'E iisr© ediese STERLING’S Southern Series of School Books! 1, Sterling’s Southern Primer—in [taper covers, 48 pages, per dozen, 90 cents; in boards, 48 pages, $1 08. 2, Sterling’s Southern Pictorial Primer, profusely illustrated with new and handsome wood-cuts, and adapted as well for a gift as a school book, with elegant illuminated cover —l2 mo, 60 pages, per dozen, $2 40. 3, Sterling’s Southern Elementary Spelling Book, pp. 128, per dozen sl. 4, Sterling’s Southern First Read er, 101 pages, 25 cents each. 5, Sterling’s Southern Second Rea der, 216 pages, 50 cents each. 6, Sterling’s Southern Third Rea der, 240 pages, 60 cents each. 7, Sterling’s Southern Fourth Rea der, 312 pages, 90 cents each. 8, Sterling’s Southern Fifth Read er, 456 pages, $1 25 each. 9, Sterling’s Southern Little Ora tor, 142 pages, 00 cents each. 10, Sterling’s Southern Orator, 544 pages, $1 50 each. Sterling’s Southern Copy Books— nine -numbers—per dozen $1 50. Published by J. \Y. Burke & Cos., Macon, Ga. janOl HAMILTON, HARRIS CO., GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 4,1873. An Act to Require tlie Payment of Costs in Advance .in Certain Cases. Sec. 1. Be it enacted by the Gen eral Assembly, That from and after the passage of this Act, no Sheriff or Deputy Sheriff in this State, shall be required to advertise the property of any defendant in fi fa for sale until I the cash for such advertisement shall have been first paid by the plaintiff in fi fa, his agent or attorney: provi ded, that whenever any such party plaintiff, or his agent or attorney for iiim, shall make and file an affidavit in uniting for him, that, owing to his poverty, he is unable to pay such cost, then it shall be the duty of said Sheriff or his Deputy to proceed as now required by law. Sec. 2. Repeals conflicting laws. Approved August 24, 1872. On aud after this date I will not advertise any property unless the plaintiff comes tip to the requirements of the above law. It may be adver tised or postponed. All parties in terested will take notice. The ad vertising fee is three dollars and fifty cents per inch, in advance. B 11. Williams, Sheriff. Hamilton, Ga., March 28, 1873. 500,000 Subscribers Wanted. The new volume of Scribner’s Monthly will present a more brilliant array oi contributors, a wider and more thorough discussion of the top ics treated in its Editorial Depart ments, finer illustrations, and more uniformly good }ftinting than any which has pteceded it. The list of contributors just published contains nearly one hundred of the brightest names known’ to our literature. Among the features of special inter est will be Dr. Holland’s Splendid Serial, “Arthur Bounieastle,” a story of American life. Also a series of brilliantly illustrated Papers, By Ed ward King, under the title of “ The Great 'South,” which will he alone worth the price of the Monthly. There will also be entertaining pa pers “ About Authors, their Friends, Whims and Ways,” Papers on the “Decoration of American Homes.’’ “Sketches, with Portraits, of Living American Writers.” Also “The Best Short Stories” by the best of living story writers. There will he Descriptive Articles, Tales of Travel and Adventure, the choicest Poems, the most Brilliant Essays, Editorials, Reviews, and Art Critiques, Depart ments relating to Horne and Society, Nature and Science, and Culture and Progress, Amusing and Interesting Etchings, &e., presenting nerlv 2000 pages of the choicest illustrated liter ature by the best writers in the En glish language. Scribner’s Monthly has obtained something more than national recog nition. An eminent English author, in a note to the Publishers, says: “It is incomparably better than any Maga zine I have come across.” .It claims to he “ the foremost Mag azine of its class in the world." Subscription price $4 a year, pava hie in advance. November and December numbers sent free to all subscribers for 1873. Scribner & Cos., 654 Broadways New York. LARGEST CIR GULATION IN THE WO RLE I A family journal which can be trusted, and which i.- always full of interest, is a necessity of the times. Such a one is tlie Christian Union, Die uuecctarian, evangelical, literary and family newspaper, Henry Ward Beecher, editor Something for every member of the household, in religion, mtsals, politics, liter ature, art, science, agriculture, poetry, news, wholesome fiction lor young and old, and truth for everybody. Mr. Beecher’s brilljont and characteristic pen in his Editorials and Star Papers, and the verbatim reports of his Lecture Room Talks in the Plymouth Church Prayer-meetings, are great attractions. There is also a laige and able editorial staff The remarkable success of this journal—it having attained the largest c irculation of its class in the world—ha-- enabled its publishers to yet further add to its attractions. A splendid list of contributors write for the Christian Union, including many famous au thors of England and America. Anew and exquisite French Oleograph, or two pretty French Oil Chromos, ure given to every yearly subscriber. Every subscrilcer, for Three Dollars, shall receive the Christian Union for one year, and tlie choice between the two’piciure premiums, viz,: the Pair and the Oleograph. Any one sending $5.75, shall receive the Christian Union or two years, and both of tlie Picture Fieuriwns A supplement containing the back numbers of Miss Alcott’s story will lie sent to all who subscribe previous to May Ist. bend money by postal order, draft, or reg istered letter. Currency at risk of sender. Send six cents for specimen copy Intelligent men and women wanted every where to act as agents. To get good terri tory, exclusively assigned, send curly for cir culars and terms, v J. B. FORI) & CO., Publisher-*, 27 Park Place, New York. K. W. DUKLS*, WMMSm QAmm, BAR AND RESTAURANT, Corner of Gilmer and Randolph Street*, WEST POINT, GA. J3~ Also a first ela-s barber shop and good sleeping rooms connected w-itn tlie Reuse. My friends in Harris county are invited to give me a call whur they visit West Point. For the Visitor. 1)E-L00F LIRPA. BY ANN RAVIS. A proudly-sailing ship had left her port in sunny Italy, bound for India. It was in the sultry summer weather, but favorable gales had wafted her on until the blue waves of the Indian Ocean rippled back from her bows, and the spicy breath of Ceylon floated out over the placid waters. Another day, and she would ride safely iu her harbor. Walking slowly up and down the deck, looking out over the hounding billows, Siguora Clarella watched for the sight of land. The long, golden hair, that fell ike tangled sunshine around her slight form, was pushed back from a brow of transparent whiteness. The large, brown eyes had that weary look that comes with deepest sorrow. Pale, feeble, she leaned on the arm of her companion, and listened, with a patient smile, to the glowing account of health and happiness to he found in tlie palm groves of India—but which she, alas! would never find. Suddenly the quick puffs of wind, the angry swelling of the ocean, be tokened the approach of a siorm. Light clouds, that had-lain in dreamy splendor around the setting sun, now rolled up iru dark masses, and their jagged fronts were rent with blinding flashes of lightning. Heavy peals of thunder replied to the deep, sullen roar of tlie sea, and the ship tossed helplessly upon the howling waste of waters. The wild fury of night, and storm, aud darkness, was rendered more hideous by the piteous cries for help from the luckless vessel. Min gling with the curses of the seamen, and the shouts of the captain, were heard vain and fruitless prayers for succor. The morning dawned, but the storm still raged ; and still tlie torn and battered ship, driven far out of her track, little more than an empty hulk, drifted, at the mercy of the waves, upon an unknown tide, And when, after days of storm and peril, tlio winds subsided, and the lashed and angry ocean sunk into quiet, the sea men hailed with joy the rugged peaks of a distant shore. Drenched with tlie cold surf, weak and faint from fatigue and suffering, the crew and passengers crowded to gether upon the beach. The ship, stranded upon the rocks, had gone down ; and they who had escaped the sea now looked forward to a death from famine on the barren coast be tween Keshin and Dofar. Clarella, like a bruised and storm-beaten lily, rested on the hard, bare earth. Over come with exhaustion; forgetful of the dangers yet in store for them, the wearied group slept long and pro foundly. But what sounds are these that mingle with the solemn moan of the waves? A band of Bedouin robbers approach! Rudely arousing them, they compel the fugitives to fo low them to the camp of their chief. The fragile loveliness of the Signora Claiella moved the compassion even of these wild men of the desert; and, dismounting from his steed, the lead er placed her on it, and himself held the reins that fell from her trembling hands. A full-orbed moon wheeled up from the East, and her bright rays lighted up the weird scene with al most midday splendor. The setting sun easts his lurid rays upon the burning sands of the desert of Akhof. Not a blade of grass wel comes the eye, weary of gazing at the dreary expanse unfolding itself upon every side." Not even a shrub casts its grateful shade on the parched earth, and there is no Moses to strike living water from the bare and gloomy rocks that lie piled around in wildest confusion. Why, then, docs Don Salvator-de- Ilosa, the flower of Spanish chivalry, linger here? What charm can the trackless desert possess for him—the courted and petted favorite of for tune? Yet, scorning the world and its homage, in the-e dreary wilds he makes his home, and amid the perils of such a life he hopes to deaden tho sufferings of his heart and stifle mem ory and regret. Selim, his fleet Arabian steed, this day has borne hirn many wearv miles; and as night’s shades descend upon the plains, he nears a spot w here the lofiy rocks, approaching, form a small amphitheatre, in whose recess lie can conceal himself from prowling bands of Bedouins during the night. He halts. The master and horse share the scanty supply of food and water. The simple meal is soon concluded, aud, prostrate upon the sand, Don Salvator abandons himself to sad rev eries. The darkness, the silence, the solitude, concord with his gloomy thoughts, and in the heart of the wild desert he feels the sorrow Unit drove him from the world brooding over him with heavy wings, and in his an guish ho groans aloud: “ Oh, memo ry!—worm that never dies!—that preyed ceaselessly upon my heart, sparing not itsj tenderost and inmost recesses! I fancied I had killed thee! —that the Lethean wavq|,pf oblivion had swept over my wounds with heal ing power! But to-hight, rising like a giant in your might f out the tomb I had made for thee, again thy cruel clutch is fastened on rny soul! And here upon this desert earth l writhe, and groan, aud plead for mercy! Is this a tear upon my cheek ? Can tho stern warrior weep? Mothonght the’ fonntniu-of my tears was dry, even as these barren sands; for my soul is a desert, seared and blighted by the consuming fires of passion! aud my life’s morning, once smiling with promise, is now enveloped in the darkness of night! Shadowy demons mock my misery, and smile at the ruin of a nature which, hut for you, Clarella, might have been a blessing, instead of a curse, to humanity. Born to be the bane of mankind with your maddening beauty, your hair of gold, and soft, sweet eyes, you have tho heart of a fiend! and gaily now', in your fair Italian home, .you smile at the memory of him who wanders an outcast for your sake! I poured out my whole soul at your feet; all the sweet hope of my youth clustered around you, my idol, and my thoughts went forth, like doves from the Ark, to find rest in your kindred Haul! In vain ! in vain 1 Oh, Death! come, like an angel of light, and free me from my misery; for the grave itself is not as dark as life to me! But I will cense these vain omnnurings, and kill my love! It shall not he said that the proud nobleman, oncp tho slave of a lady’s smile, is now the vic tim of a lady’s frown! ” And spring ing to his feet, he mounts his steed, and out in the darkness and night he madly rides, as if ho hopes to flee from thought, as ho flies from this scene of his anguish. Ilis weary horse catches his master’s fli c, and as the mad pair rush on through tho black night, Don Salvator thinks of tho Wild Huntsman of German le gend, and smiles bitterly at the invol untary comparison. On and on they rush! Ho thinks of fair Italy and her moonlit bowers, and redoubles his speed. But hark! Above the sound of his horse’s hoofs domes the a galloping troop! lie checks his steed, and, with the caution of a practiced soldier, he ad vances slowly. A friendly group of rocks cast a deep shadow in the moon light, and hidden by these, he awaits the approach of the band. In his present desperate mood he feels it in his power to defy the whole world. So no thought of fear causes his heart to tremble. Why, then, docs he start and shrink as the troop„da u h by in the full light of the moon ? Why does his cheek pale, and the reins fall from his nerveless hand ? He sees Clarellal—/unloved Clarella —in the midst of the robber band! For a time lie is motionless, as if stunned; then, involuntarily, he turns and pur sues, They have swept out of sight ere this, and his horse, wearied out, can scarcely follow; hut lie spurs hirn on. His blood is on fire. The strength of a hundred demons is in liis arm. He cannot overtake them, but he tracks them over the sajidn. A fringo of trees is seen on the edge of the horizon. With joy ho sees that tlie track of tho 1 and leads to this oasis in the desert. The wild hope that they have encamped there thrills his soul, and ho determines to rescue Clarella, or die in the attempt. Clarella, no longer a “fiend,” .but loved with all the tenderness of yore; for the despair he saw on her face during that hasty glance has wrought a revolution in his feelings. Regard less of danger, he dismounts when within half a mile of the spot, and creeps caqtiously up on the sleeping band, lie hears them slowly and gently: he sees the fair form of Cla rella, and his heart almost stands still, in the depth of his emotion, Not a sound is heard, save tlie deep drawn breath of the sleepers; not even a leaf rustles under his stealthy tread. He steps over the sleeping figures; he stoops ; he gently takes her in his arms; the frail form, so ligtft, is al- oo great a burden lor the strong man in his agitation. She opens her eyes and looks up in his face with a smile of ineffable content aud peace, lie sees no surprise on her counten ance; perfect trust beams iff her eyes. Ho folds her to his breast; ho hears her to the-spot where the chiefs Imrse is grazing. In a second they have mounted him ; in another they are tar away o’er the plains. But the sound of their horse’s feet arouses the sleeping robbers. They ore a little disconcerted by the loss of their finest horse, hut the chief mounts another, and they rush on in hot pursuit. But Don Salvator is far away, anil already feels secure and supremely happy,fur hr’has rescued Ohm-llu. -'*• ’ * But what is this that comes to meet them with fearful bounds? A fierce fyer,filling the air with hom'd growls, is springing upon them ! —when, be hold, in tho dlstunoo If tlie kind reader should ho suffi ciently interested in the fate of these unfortunate lovers to desire a sequel to this thrilling story, he or she has only to turn to tho title, and spell it hack words. A TRUE GHOST 1 STORY. REMINISCENCE OF A COUNTRY PHYSICIAN. “ Did you ever hear,” said a friend once t o me, “ a real true ghost story one that you might depend upon “There are uot many such to be heard,” I replied, “ and I am afraid | it has never been rny good fortune to meet with those who were really! able to give me a genuiue, well au thenticated story,” “Well, yon-shnll never have cause to say so again; and it was an adven ture that happened to myself, you can scarcely think it ol!her than well authenticated. I know you to he no coward, or I might, hesitate before I told it to you. You need not stir tho fire; there is plenty of light by which you can hear it. Aud now to begin. I had been riding hard one day in the autumn for nearly five or six hours, through some of the most, tempestuous weather to which it had ever been my ill luck to bo exposed. It was just about the time of the Equinox, and perfect hurricanes swept over tho hills, as if every wind in heaven had broken loose, and gone mad, and on every hill the raiu and driving sleet poured down iu one un broken shower. “ When I reached the head of Wontford valley—you know the place, a narrow ravine with rooks on one side, and those rich .-full -woods (not that they wore very full then, for the winds had shaken them till there was scarcely a leaf on their hare rustling branches) op the other, with a clear little stream winding through the hollow dell—when 1 came to the entrance of this valley, weather-beaten vetran as I was, I scarcely knew how to hold on my way; tho wind, as it wero, held in be tween the two high banks, rushed like a river just broken loose into a now course, carrying with it a per fect sheet of rain, against which my horse and I struggled with consider able difficulty; still I went on, for the village lay at the other end, and I had a patient to boo there, who had sent a very urgent message, en treating me to come as soon as pos sible. We are slaves to a message, we poor medical men, and I urged on my poor jaded brute with a keen relish for the warm fire aild good dinner that awaited mo as soon as I could see my unfortunate patieut, and get back home . doubly valued on such a day as that in which I was then out. it was indeed dreary rid ing in such .weather; and the scene altogether through which I passed, was certainly not the most conduct ive towards raising a man’s spirits; hut 1 positively half wished myself out in it all again, rather than sit tho lionr I was obliged to spend by tlie sick-bed of the wretched man I had been summoned to visit. He had met with an accident tlie day be fore, and as lie had been drinking up to the lime, and' the people hau de layed sending for me, I found him in a frightful .tale of fever; and it was really an awful thing either to look at or to lie was delirious, and perfectly furious; and his face, swelled with passion, and crimson with tho fever that was burning him up, was a sight to frighten children, r and not one calculated to add to the tranquility even of full grown rrien. I dare say you think me very weak, and that 1 ought to iiave been inmired such to things, mincing his ravings no more than the dash of tlie rain against the window; but, during the whole of my practice, I irnd never seen man or woman, in health or in fever, in so frightful a state of furious frenzy, with the impress of every bad passion stamped so broadly and fear fully upon the face; and, m tlie mis erable hovel that (hen held me with his old witch-like mother standing by, the babel of the wind and rain out side added to the ravings of the wretched creating within- 1 began to feel neither in a happy nor an envi able frame of mind. There is noth ing so frightful as w here the reasona ble spirit seems to abandon man’s body, and leave it to a fiend instead. “ After an hour or more, waiting patiently ly his bedside, not liking to leave the helpless old woman alone witli Bo dangerous a companion (for I could not answer tor anything he $2 A YEAR. might do in his frenzy), I thought that remedies by which I hoped in some measure to silbdne the fever, seemed beginning to take effect, and that I might leave him, promising to send all that was necessary, though fearing much that he had gone bey ond all rny power to restore Mai; and desiring that I might be immedi ately called hack again, should he got worse instead of better, which I felt almost certain would ba the case, I hastened homeward, glad enough to he leaving wretched huts aud ra ving men, drhing rain and windy hills, for a comfortable house, dry clothes, a warm fire, and a good din ner. I think I never saw such a fire in my life as the one that blazed up iny .ehiupiry; itdooked 30 wonderfully, warm and bright, anil there soemed an indescribable nir of comfort about the room which I had never noticed before. One would have thought I should have enjoyed it intensely af ter my wet ride, but throughout the whole evening, tlie scenes of the day would keep recurring to. my mind with most uncomfortable distinctness, and it was in vain that I endeavored to forgot, it all in a book, one of our old favorites too; so at last I fairly gave up tho attempt, as the hideous face would continually come between my eyes and an especially good pas sage; and I went oft’ to bed heartily tired, and expecting sleep very rea dily to visit ino. Nor was I disap pointed: I was soon deep asleep, though my last thought was on the little valley I had left. llow long this heavy and dreamless sleep con- tinued, I cannot tell, but gradually I felt consciousness returning, in the shape of the very thoughts witli which I fell asleep, aud at last I opened my eyes, thoroughly roused by a heavy blow at my window. I cannot describe my horror, When, by the light of a moon struggling among the heavy snrge-liko clouds, I saw tho very face, the face of that man, looking in at mo through tho case ment, the eyes distended and the face pressed close to the glasd. I started up in bed, to convince my self that I really was awake, and not suffering from some frightful droatn; there it staid, perfectly, moveless, its wide ghastly eyes fixed unwaver ingly on mine, which, by a kind of fascination, became equally fixed and rigid, gazing upon the dreadful face, which alone without a body was vis ible at tbe window, unless an indefi nable blnelc shadow, that seemed to float beyond it, might be fancied into one. 1 can scarcely tell how long I so sat looking at it, but I remember something of a rushing sound, a feel ing of relief, a falling exhausted back upon my pillow, and then I awoke in the morning ill and unrefreshed. I was ill at case, and tho first question I asked, on coming down stairs, was, whether any messenger had come to summon me to Wentford. A mes senger had come, they told me, hut it was to say I need trouble myself no further,' ns the man was already beyond all aid, having died about tho middle of tho night. I never felt so strangely in my life as when they told mo this, and my brain almost reeled as the events of the previous day and night passed through my mind in rapid succession. That I had seen something supernatural in tho darkness of the night, I had never doubted, but when the sun shono brightly into my room in the morn ing, through tiie same window, where I hud sopn so frightful and strange a sight by tlie spootral light of tho moon, I began to believe more it was a dream, and endeavored to ridicule myself out of all uncomfor table feeling, which, nevertheless, I could not quite shake off. Haunted by what I considered a painful dream, I left my room and the first thing I heard was a confirmation of what I iiad been for the last hour endeavor ing to reason and ridicule myself out of believing. It was some hours be fore I could recover my ordinary tranquility ; and then it came back, not slowly as yon might have expec ted, as the impression gradually worn off, and tithe wrought his astral chan ges in mind as in body, but sud denly—by tbe discovery that our largo white owl bad escaped during the night, and had honored my win dow with a visit before he came quite accustomed to his liberty,” A Joke on a Doctor.— A few nights since, at a late hour, tho speak ing tube at the office door of a pop ular physician in New Haven was used by some niiduight wag to the following effect: The doctor was in a sound sleep when lie was partially awaken by a liullo through the tube, when tbe following dialogue took place: “ Web, what do yon want?” “ Doeo Dr. J ones live here ?” , “ Vea, what do you want!” “ Are you Dr. Jones “Yes.” , “Dr. Simon JoneS?” “ Yes, yes; what do'yon want ?” “Why, how long have you lived here?’’ * “Some twenty years; why?” “Why? Why in the thunder don’t you move?” “if you stay there about ten sec onds more, you’ll fiud that I am moving!” and ho bounced out of bed; but the patient was heard mov ing down tlie street at a rate that defied pursuit. * 0 jd&f *“ Subscribe tor the Visitor,