The central Georgian. (Sandersville, Ga.) 1847-1874, May 15, 1861, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextCjtwtY ft l t ft rat am $ VOLUME XV. J. M G. MEDLOCK, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR SANDERSVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 15, 1861. NUMBER 20. Tho Central GkorgiaN is published weekly, at Two Dollars per annum, advance. Any person sending F U N SCRIBERS, accompanied with the Oash, ttui oe Furnished with a copy of the Georgian for one year FREE OF CHARGE. Remittances by mail in registered lottors at our risk. , The Georgian is the organ of the 1 lanters Cluli of Hancock, and will publish the proceedings of the regular monthly meetings of the Executive Committee. It will also contain, each month, at least one original article from the pen of some member of tho Club. % . Subscribers wishing the direction of their paper Changed, will notify us from what office it is to bo ^ADVERTISEMENTS conS p icuoua |y inserted at 'SI 00 per square for the first insertion, and 50 cents per square for each subsequent insertion. Those sent without a specification of the number of insertions, will be published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. . . Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators. Executors, or Guardians, are required bylaw to be held on the first Tuesday in the month be tween the hours of ten in tho forenoon and three in the afternoon, at *h Court-house in the county n which the property is situate. Notices of these sales must be given in a public gazette FORTY DAYS previous to the day of sale. 1 Notices for tho sale of Personal Property must be given at least TEN DAYS previous todie day of Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must bo published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leavo to sell Land or Negroes, must be published weekly for twomonths. Citation" for Letters of Administration must be published thirty days—for Dismission from Ad ministration, monthly six months—for Dismis sion from Guardianship, forty days. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be nub- lishcd monthly for four months—for establishing lost papers, for the full Rpace of threemonths—for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators where a bond has been given by the deceased, the full Rpace of three months. Publication will always be continued accor ling to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise ordered Miscellaneous. THE PRINCES FOLLOWER Little Ben Potter had hern staring, with sleepless eyes, out of the curtain- less window ever since daybreak, but he had not cared to move hand or foot. The fact is, he had gone to bed sunperlvss the night before, and feit rather weak and faint, and as he had no very encouraging prospects for breakfast, he could not make up Ins mind to get up to another hungry day. So he lay very quietly watching the heavy mist curtains as they gradually rolled away, til! the skies became beau tifully blue and clear, and the old elm trees waved their golden arms in the yellow autumn sunshine. ? "Oh, how L wish it was real gold, sighed poor Ben, ‘and all those lovely leaves sailing off now and then were bright, golden dollars ! Oh ! how I would run out and fill my cap full, and then down to the baker’s to buy some of that beautiful white bread and but- ter __ 0 h, we’d have butter, too. ana a little tea, perhaps, for dear, sick moth er—but oh, dear me!’ sighed benuv, despondingly, ‘they’renothing but yel low, withered leaves.’ Then he shut his eyes, and thought of the time when his father was alive, and had a girden full of roses, and a beautiful brown cow. Hmv long ago it seemed, and how long it was, even since his mother had been sick, and could earn no more money by sewing. Yesterday, (and Benny’s cheeks were crimson) was the first day that he had ever tried to beg. Hiere might be. kind people in the world, but he didn t much believe it. At any rate, how an«rv all the big, fat cooks looke> when he knocked at the kitchen doors, and sometimes they would slam them so quickly that they nearly pinched his fingers. In one kitchen, he remem bered, he saw a little kitten, with such a great saucer of nice, sweet milk be fore her. How fat and comfortable she looked! But when he asked for something for his poor, sick mother, they gave him such hard crust a , it made his teeth ache just to think them, and h s mother cjuld n .t eat at all.. . ‘Oh dear!’ cried Benny to himself, ‘I’ll just die before I go begging again.’ A long sig.i from the other side of the room made him start up and exclaim, ‘Oh Itaother, are you awake ? Did you hear me ? I didn’t exactly mean that. It wasn’t so very bad.’ But Benny’s mo her did not answer, and he soon saw that she was only groaning in her restless sleep. He lay a few moments longer, busy with his sad thoughts, then suddenly starting •up, he exclaimed: ‘I declare, if I didn’t forget the Prince was coming to-day, and 1 meant to be up with the first streak of light, and he began hastily to dress himself ia his ragged clothes, talking bus.ly to himself. ‘I wonder, now, why I wasn’t born over the sea in a great palace, with plenty of servants io wait on me, in stead of living up four pairs ot stairs, in this little narrow street. There, now, what a terrible hole in my knee; oh, if mother only could mend it, but I’ll just have to pin it up s well as I can. Good by, mother,’ and he gently kissed her ‘I’ll be baek before long.’ ‘Wh re are you going, Benny ?’ said she, rousing from her troubled sleep. ‘To get some breakfast for you," said the ‘I shall go to Him,’ she murmured, dreamily, ‘dear Pr.nce of Peace;’ aud her heavy eyes again closed. Benny looked very grave. ‘How* much she s eeps,’ he said to himself, ‘and she don’t know what she says half the time.’ “iiis wistful eyes filled with tears, and he turned anxiously away. And as he walked down the busy street, he suddenly thought of a grand plan of making his fortune. lie had heard that the Prince was very kind and generous, and if he could only get near enough just to tell him quickly how sick and poor his mother was, perhaps he would give him something, or per haps better than all h ■ would make him his little servant, and bid him to follow on arid hold his horses, or do something of the kind. The poor simple child nev er thought how impossible it would be for such a ragged b v to be allowed to come near the great Prince. After he had the matter all arranged to his satisfaction, Bennv’s step grew very lively, and as the Prince was not coming till aft rnoon, lie tried to find some little job to do by which to earn breakfast for himself and mother. But no one c:.red to hire such a small, weak boy, and he was becoming almost dis couraged, when a kind countryman gave him three large apples. One was eagerlv devoured by the hungry boy, but the other two were carried home, and laid carefully by the dear, sick mother, who still slept so strangely and heavily. Then Benny spent a long time busily and painfully trvii g to darn the worst holes in the faded old clothes that he might look fit to speak to the Prince. At last afternoon came, and he found himself in the greatest crowd he had ever seen. ‘I don’t care for myself,’ said little Benny, as he was pushed and jostled about,_ ‘but vvliat shall I do if my clothes get torn any more,’ and he ook off his cap, and for safety tucked it un der his arm. But after poor Benny hail many knocks and bruises his cour age began to fail, and he only w shed to be once more safe at home. Sudden ly the b>nd burst forth into a most magnificent strain of music. ‘Oh, what are they playing?’ cried Benny, excitedly. ‘Why, that’s God save the Queen, you blockhead,’ cried a large boy standing near. ‘God save the Queen,’ thought Ben ny. ‘Ah, how beautiful to pray in mu sic. I’m sure God will hear that, and will save the great Queen. Oh, if some body would only pray for my mother like that,’ and Bennv, with streaming eyes, said softly,’ ‘Oh, God save the Queen and my dear mother too,’ and then he wondered if his little tremb- ing prayer went up with the grand mu-uc. Wnat are you doing with that hunch of horrid flowers? cried Jack White behind him suddenly. Benny looked around. ‘Why, they’re the very best I can find, and I’tn going to givejthem to the Prince, and ask him to let me he his little servant while he stays.’ ‘Hi! hi!’ scream- d J tek, so loudly, that half a dozen of his vagabond friends gathered around in a minute. What do you think this boy says?’ and amio shouts of jeering laugliter, he disclosed Benny’s plan. ‘Won t the Prince have a gay fol ower? Won’t he be proud, though?’ ) ‘That’s a good joke, old Patchwork, cried another, poking him i » the rids. ‘My friends,’ continued Jack, with much politeness, T have the honor of introducing the Duke of Hag-tag aud Bob-tail.’ Benny, with crimson cheeks, and b eaking heart, tried hard to get away, but they held him fast, white they showered all manner of jokes upon him and pulled at Irs old, worn clothes trll he was perfectly aghast at the unseem ly n nts. There, and now the'Prnce was pass ing by, and Benny’s last chance would soon be lost forever. He clasped his hands, aud implored them to let him (TO. ° ‘Oh, ye6,’ screamed Jack. ‘I’m afraid we are keeping his Excellency. He hears his friend, the Prince calling him. Room there for Lord Eugmuffin !’ Benny’s broken-hearted sobs attract ed the attention of a gentleman stand ing near, who exclaimed : ‘You voung scamps, what are you doing with that poor boy?’ The little teasing mob quickly scat tered, and Benny was alone. ‘Please, sir,’ faltered he; ‘has the Prince passed by ?’ ‘On, yes, he is quite a long way down the street’ A look of bitter disappointment swept over Benny’s worn face. ‘Did you want tosee him so muetu said the gentleman, kindly. Benny"could not speak, and his new friend, taking him by the hand, let him out of the crowd into a quiet street, and by degrees drew from him all his sad story. , , oir -i ‘Don’t sob so, mv little friend, said servants, too?’ ‘Yes, you have only to ask Him and He can do all tilings, for He is King of kings, and Lord of lords.’ ‘Aii,’ said Benny, with a look of great disappointment, ‘I know whom you mean now. It is the btviour Prmcea, nd mother and I have prayed to Him weeks and weeks, hut He will not hear us,’ aud Benny burst into tears. ‘But,’ said the gentleman, kindly, ‘I think He has heard you at last, and lias sent me to help you and your poor, sick mother; show me where she lives.’ I have not time to tell you of Ben ny’ extravagant joy, nor what he said to the good doctor (tor such the gentle man proved to be) on the way home. When th v first entered the room, bis mother was so still and white that he at first thought she had really gone to see the ‘Saviour Prince,’ as she had said in the morning. But no; she was still living, and after great care, she is now nearly r< stored to health. Benny has becom: the doctors little errand bov, and hasn’t been hungry for a fortnight. But" best of all, Benny has asked the p r j nce —the Great Prince, to make him one of His servants, and he studies the Bible every day, that he may learn to follow Him very closely, for he knows he is safer the nearer he is to Him. Dear little Harry, or Charley, or Mary, or Susy, would not you, too, like to be a follower of the Great Prince ?—Congregationalist. Stimulants.—The Louisville Jour nal says: - There are times when the pmse lies low in the bosom and beats slowly in the veins; when the spirit sleeps the sleep, apparently, that knows no wa king in its house of clay, and the win dow-shutters are closed, and the door hung with the invisible crape of mel ancholy; when we wish the golden sunshine pitchy darkness and very willing to fancy ‘clouds where no clouds°be.’ This is a state of sickness when physic may be thrown to the dogs, for we will have none of it. Whac shall raise the sleeping L iz irus? What shall make the heart beat music again, and the pulse dance through it to all the mj r riad thronged halls in our iiouse of life? What shall make the sun kiss the eastern hills, again tor us, with all his awakening gladness, and the night overflow with ‘moonlight, music, love and flnvers?’ Live itself the great stimulant—the most intox icating of all—and performs all these miracles but it is a miracle iiseif, and it is not at the drug store whither they stav. Tne counterfeit is in the market but the winged god is not a money changer, we assure you. Men have tried rnanv things—but still they ask for stimulants. The stimu ants \Ve use but require the use of more. Men try to drown the floating dead of their own souls in the wine cup, but the corpses will arise. We see their faces in the blubbers. The intoxication of drink seis the world whirling again, and the pulse playing the wildest music and the thought galloping - but the fast clock runs down sooner; and the un natural stimulation only leaves tho house it fills with -the wildest revelry more silent, more sad, more deserted, more dead There is only one stimu lant that never fails and never intoxi cates—duty. Duty puts a blue sky over every”man—up in his heart may he into which the skylark, happiness, always goes singing. o gei some oreukiasi lor you, smu l aw ow, . r n boy, cheerily, ‘and to see the I he, as Benny finished; per iapa •’ • help you as well as tne P mce ‘Oh are you verv rich and great / Are you one of the Prince’s servants? ‘Yes,’said he, smiling quietly,- 1 hope I am one of the Prince's servants, though not of the one who has just td ‘W no/then?’ asked Benny eagerly. ‘Oh, a far gt eater Prme.; one, ot whose Kingdom there is no end. And will He help me?’ cried Ben- nv. ‘Will He let me be one ot iiis Prince. I wish you could see him, too mother.’ ‘I think I shall see Him very soon, Benny,’ said his mother, with a tender ook m her sad, faded eyes. ‘Perhaps this very day. ‘Oh no, mother,’ almost laughed Benny. ‘Do you think lie will come dirough this narrow street? They svouldu’t let him know there was such a mean place in the city. Now, you don’t think he’d, eoma here!’ Misquotations from Scripture. qju . tempers the wind to the shorn lainb.’ From Sterne’s Sentimental journey to Italy. Compa e Isaiah xxvii, 8 . . , •In the midst of life we are in death. From the Burial Service; and this or- itonally from a hymn ot Luther. ° Dread aud wme which the Lord hath commanded to be received. i’ rom the English Catechism. ‘Not to be wise above what is writ ten.’ Not in r-cripture. “That the spirit would go from heart to heart as oil from vessel to vessel.’ Not in Scripture. . „ , . ‘Tne merciful man is merciful to his beast.’ The Scripture form is, A righteous man regardeth the life ot his beast.’ Prov. xn, 10. ‘A nation shall be born in a day. In Isaiah lxvi, 8, it reads. “Shall a nation be born at once.’ As iron sharpeneth iron, so doth a man the countenance of his friend.’— ‘iro i sharpeneth iron; so a inan shar pened the countenance of his frieud.’ Prov. xxvii, 17. ‘That he who runs may read.’ ‘That he may run that readeth.’ Habak kuk, iii, 2. , ‘Owe no man anything but love. — ‘0>vc no man anything, buttoloveone another.’ Homans, xxii, 7. ‘Prone to sin as the sparks fly up ward.’ ‘Prone to trouble as the sparks fly upward.’ Job, v, 7. ... ‘Exalted to heaven to point of priv ilege.’ Not. in tiie Bible. The virtue of those who are ever com plaining of the degeneracy of their fe.- lows, isto be seriously doubted—for it is very human to make individual con duct the standard ot opinion. Man without religion is Hie creature of circumstances. Boligion is above all circumstances, and will lift mm up above them. It is too much to expect the world move in just such a way as will suit our convenience, and in no other way. Never Tell a Lie- Two lads came at an early hour to a country market town, and spreading out their little stands, they sat down to wait for customers. One sold melons and other truiG, the other dealt in oys ters and fish. The market hours pass ed along, and each little dealer saw with pleasure his stores steadily de creasing, while the. money was filling their pockets. Tne last melon lay on Harry’s stand, when a gentleman came by, and pla.-ing his hand upon it said: ‘What a fine large melon ! I think I must buvt it. What do you ask for it, my boy ?’ ‘The melon is the last I have, sir; and though it looks rather fair, there is an unsound spot on the other side, said the boy. turning it over. “So ibere is,* said die man, 'I fehtnU I will not take it.’ ‘But,’ he added, looking into the boy’s face, ‘is it very business-likvi to point out the defects of your fruit to customers?’ ‘It is better than being dishonest, sir,’ said the bov, modestly. ‘You are right, tny boy; always re member to speak the truth and you will find fav r with God and man also. You have nothing else I wish for this morn ing, but I shall not forget your little stand in future. Are these oysters fresh ?’ % he continued, turning to Ben Wilson’s stand. ‘Yes sir; fresh this morning, was the reply; and a purchase being made, the geutlem n went his way. ‘Harry, what a fool you was to show the g mtlernan that spot in the melon ! Now you can take it home, for your pains, or throw it away. How much wiser is he about these oysters ? bold them at the same price I did the fresh ones. He would never have looked at the melon until he had gone away. ‘Ben, I would not tell a he, or act one either, for twice what I have earn ed this morning. Besides, I shall be better off in the end, for I have gained a customer, and you have lost one. And so it proved; for the next day the gentleman bought quite a supply of fruit of Harry, but never spent an other penny at the stand of Ben. Inus the season passed. The gentleman, finding he could always get a good ar ticle of Harry, always bought ot tmn, and sometimes talked a few minutes with him about his future hopes and prospects. To become a tradesman was iiis great ambition; and when the winter caine on, the gentleman, want ing a trusty boy for his shop, decided on giving the place to Harry. Steadi ly and surely he advanced in the con fidence of his employer, until lie be came at length an honored partner in the firm. Origin of Names of Days of the Week.—In the Museum “at Berlin, in the hall devoted to northern antiqui ties, they have the representations of the idols from which the days of our week are derived. From the idol ot the Sun comes Sunday. 1 his idol is represented with his face like the Sun, Holding a burning wheel, with both hands on his breast, signifying his course round tl e world. The idol ot the Moon, from which comes Monday, is habited in a coat like a man, but holding the Moon in his hands. Tuis- co, from which comes Tuesday, was one of the most ancient and popular gods of the Germans, and represented in his garments of skin, according to their peculiar maimer of clothing; the tnird day of the week wasded Cated to his worship. Woden, from whicu comes Wednesday, was a valiant prince among the Saxons. His image was prayed to for victory. Thor, from whence comes Thursday, is seated on a bed, with twelve siais over his head, holding a scepter in bis hand. Iriga, from whence we have Friday, is repre sented with a drawn sword in his right hand, and a bow in his left. Seater, from which is Saturday, has the ap pearance of perfect wretchedness; he is tlr.n-visaged, long-haired, with a long beard. He carries a pail of water in his right hand, wherein are fruits and flowers.— Country Gentleman. What is a Gentleman ^ It is an easy question to ask, but a difficult one to answer. What is hon or? Wbat is value? What is poetry? Though most people can feel, few can define any of th se things; and the short answer to the first question is simply this : ‘a gentleman is a gentle man.’ Let me to define him by a few negatives as well as positives. Firstly of his costume. He must not be dirty, negligent or slovenly in his person. He must neither be meanly nor mag nificently dressed. He must not wear gaudy and incongruous colors, or af- front the eyes of onlookers with jew elry and finery. He must not affect ecctn-ricty or singularity; or dress himself in such a manner as to cause the vulgar to stare, or the judicious to ariwo l*o by D- rmut Jrjoo as Polonius (not at all a fool, though every actor who plays the part endea vors to make him so) advised his son Laertes to dress—in golden words of true wisdom. But dress, though it he the first and most obvious, is the least characteristic of the gentleman. In his manner he must not think himself the principal person in the world, kingdom or the company; but without para ie of humanity (which is in itself an offence) he must think himself the last; or at all events, he must act as if he thought so. He must not fail in defercnt.al politeness, either to man or woman. He must not take the first place, as if it were his iiialienable right. He must not at table, or elsewhere, commit acts, which though they may* be harmless in themselves, are contra ry to the prevalent notions of his time and country. A hundred years ago a g ntlernan might get drunk after din ner without losing his social position ; but to any one aspiring in our day to that high and illustrious rank, the slightest tendency to drunkenness at table, or anywhere else, is fatal to his pretension. As soon as the flaw is known, he becomes a low snob thence forth aiid forever. To be loud in talk is almost os great a derogation from the ideal of the character as to the ‘loud’ in costume—(I know that tiie word is a slang word, but it expiesses a meaning not to be reached even by a periphrasis, and may for that^reason be looked upon leniently.) To hear one man’s voice overriding every oth er’s, anti one man s opinions thundered into tne years of people too timid, loo witn a Sientor, is fatal to Stentors cla ms to be con idered a gentleman. And quite as essential as manners to tne perfection ot the character is con versation. A man in tne dress and with the manners of a gentleman mu.4 not talk vulgarly, indecently, obscene ly, irreverently, or even ignorantly, (if the ignorance be very gross,) without forfeiture ot the rank to wbicn ins dress aud Ins manners would seem to entitle him. But granting all these three es sentials, the woulu-be gentleman is not gentleman if his heart be wrong. Dress is an ornament, manners are a grace, conveisation is a charm ; but these three may be possessed in all possible perfection by a blackguard. But the.-e three combined with a noble heart and a sound judgment—the one balancing the other—combine to form the true gentleman. A Word to the Working Class- A gentleman is a man who is gen tle. Titles—graceful accomplishments —superior culture—princely wealth— erreat talents—ginius—do not consti tute a man with all the attributes nee ded to make a gentleman. He may be awkward—angular, homely or poor— and yet belong to the uncr 'Wned aris tocracy. His face may be bronzed at the forge or bleached in the mid—his hand huge and .-ard—his patched vest, like Joseph’s coat, of many colors— and he may still be a true gentleman The dand y is a dry goods sign, and not a gentleman, .for he depends upon Iiis honor and virtue for his passport to the best circles of society. ‘The man who has no money is poor he who has n ithing but money is p orer than lie,’ nnd w not a gentleman. Some of the most distinguished men in the world of letters—in the world of art— have been unarniable—gross—vulgar —ungentle—consequently not gentle men. ‘You are a plebeian,’ said the patri cian to Cicero. ‘I am a plebeian,’ said the eloquent Roman; ‘the nobility cf my family begins with me; that of yours wifi end with you.’ I Hold no man deserves to be crowned with hon or whose life is a failure; and he who lives only to eat and drink and accu mu late money isa failure. The world is no better for his living in it. He never wiped a tear from a sad face— never kindled a fire upon a frozen hearth. I repeat with emphasis, he is a failure. There is no flesh in his heart, he worships no God but gold. Even here at the South there are persons who deem it discreditable and ungen- tlemanly to labor, hence' vast multi tudes of young men shirk the yoke of toil, and rush headlonginto professions and positions for which they are total ly disqualified. There is true dignity in labor, and no true dignity without it. lie who looks down scornfully on labor is like Hermes, who had a mouth and no hands, anff yet made faces at those who fed him—mocking the fingers that brought bread to his lips. He who who writes a book or builds a house, or tills a farm, or follows any useful employment, lives to some pur pose, and contributes something to the Domestic Duties.— Y knowledge of domestic duties is beyond all price to a woman. Every one of our sex ought to know how to sew, and knit, and mend, and cook, and superintend a household. In every situation of life, high or low, this sort of knowl edge is of great advantage. There is no necessity that the gaining of such information should interfere with intel lectual acquirements or elegant accom plishments. A well regulated mind can find time to attend to all. When a girl is nine or ten years old,- sho should be accustomed to take some share in household duties, and to feel responsible for the manner in which her part is performed, such as her own mending, washing the cups and put ting them in place, cleaning silver, or dusiing and arranging the p rlor. This should not be done occasionally, and neglected whenever she feels it conve nient; she should co isider it her de partment. When older than twelve, girls should begin to take turns in .su perintending the household, making puddings, pies, cake, &e.; to learn ef fectually to do these things themselves and not stand by and see others do them.—Mrs. Child. Such is Life.—So lately dead ; so soon forgotten. ’Tis the way of the world. We flourish for awhile. Men takes us by the hand, and are anxious about the health of our bodies, and laugh at our jokes, and we really think like the flv on the wheel, that we have something to do with the turning of it. Some day we are buried. The sun does not stop for our funeral; every thing goes ou as usual; men laugh now at new j >kes; one or two hearts feel the wound -of affliction, one or two memories still hold our names and forms; but the crowd moves in its d tily circle, and in a short time the great wave sweeps over our steps and wash es the last vestige of our earthly foot steps. Pedigree in America.—Dr. Cur tis, in Iiis Gta.e registration report, speaks of a marked neglect of the Am erican people as follows: ‘More at tention is given in this country to the pedigree of animals than of human be ings, and many persons can tell the ex- r _ ne! hing to the au °g ei i ea i 0 gy of a t avorite horse forsev fund of human happiness. L >ok at that erjl | urenerations, who do not k now th'e inner, hmbas a share in the bank; but delta fa , his bank * a bank of loam, his share is into tne years oi ucuuio ^ - • . . , indol-jnt,or t» courteous lo do battle . ploug , “J Tee Foundation of Character. -Tne groundwork of all manly char acter is veracity. This virtue lies at the foundation of every so>id thing. How common it is to hear parents say, ‘I have faith in my child so long as he speaks the truth. He may have many faults, but I know he will uot deceive me. I build on that confidence.’ They are right. It is a lawful and just ground to build upon. And that is a beautiful confidence. Whatever er rors temptations may betray a child into, so long as brave, open truth re mains, there is something to depend on—there is another ground—there is substance at the center. Men of the world feel so about one another. 1 hey can be tolerant and forqearing so long as their erring brother is true. It is the fundamental \irtue. Ordinary commerce can hardly proceed a step without a good measure of it. If we cannot believe what others say to us, we cannot act upon it, and to an im mense extent that is saving that we cannot act at all. Men are frequently like tea tne rear strength and goodness are not Droperly drawn out until they have been'a short time in hot water. ‘Have you ever broken a horse? in quired a horse jocky. ‘No, not exactly,’...replied Simon, ‘but I have broken three or four wa ,r - gans.’ A tall youth is a lad, but an imple merit used he firemen is a ladder. breaks his bank, the greater will be his dividends. He need not send his notes to New York to be redeemed, for nature has endorsed therr. Garibaldi, the greatest hero of the nge, is a working man. Henry Clay was the ‘mill boy of the sla-lie-;.’ D in iel Webster knit his iron lrame into strength by working on his father’s farm when youna. The men who have blood enough in their veins to work the brain-mills upon their shoulders, are men who labor. How TO SECURE INDEPENDENCE. To secure independence, tiie practice of simple economy is all that is neces- saty. Economy neither requires su perior coMrage nor eminent virtues; it is saiisfied w.th ordinary eneigy, and the capacity of average minds. Econ omy, at bottom, is but tiie spii it of or der applied in the administration of domestic affairs; it means management, regularity, prudence, ana the avoid aiice of waste. The spirit of economy was expressed by o ir divine master m these words, ‘Gather up the fragments that remain, so that nothing may be lost.’ His Omnipotence did not dis dain the small tilings of lift-; and even while revealing Ills infinite power to the u.ultitud , He taught the pregnant lesson of careful iess of which all stand so much ia need. Economy also means the power of resisting present gratification for the purpose of securing a future good; and in this light it represents the a lender.- cv of reason over animal instiucts. It is altogether different from penurious- nes.-; for it is economy that can always best afford to be generous. It does, not makes money an idol) but regards it as a useful agent. As Dean Swilt observes ‘we must carry money in the head, not in the heart.’ E;onomy may be sty led/ the daughter ot Prudence, the sister of Temperance, and the mother of Liber ty. It is eminently conijcyative of character, of domestic hi^^iness, an I social well-being. It allays irritation, and produces content. It makes men lovers of public order and security. It deprives tne agitator ol his stocks in trade, by removing suffering, and ren tiers his appeals to class-hatred com pletely innocious. When vvo.kinen by their industry and frugality have se cured their own independence, they will cease to legard tne sight of others w- 11-being in the light of a wrong in flicted on themselves; and it will no longer be possible to make political capital out of their imaginary woes.— Loudon Quarterly Review. “Is it possible, Miss, that you don’t know the name of some of your best friends?” “ Certainly ; I do not even know what my owit flame may be in a year from this time.” Toa s are the best protection of cab- [ bage against lice. All Sorts of Facts- The oak tree lives in a state of na ture one thousand five hundred years. Hour glasses were invented at Al exandria one hundred and fifty years before Christ. The sum of fifteen million dollars is expend d each year in London for in toxicating liquors. Vaccination was first tried upon con demned criminals iu the year 1721. The interest o^the national debt of Great Bii ain is over twenty-four mil lions poinds sterling. Looking glasses were first made at Venice in the year 1300. Iron was first discovered by the burning of Mount Ida one thousand four hundred years bsfore Christ. Muslins were first manufactured in England during the year 960. Air is eight hundred aud sixteen times lighter than water.^ Military uniforms were first adopted in France, by King Louis XIV. The plague in Europe, Asia, and Africa, commencing iu the year 538, lasted for fifty years. Linen was first discovered and made in England, in the year 1253. The average coinage of the mint of Great Britain for the last thirty years is eighteen million pounds sterling per annum. _ ' Microscopes were first invented and used in Germany in 1621. The first literary Magazine in Am erica was published by Franklio. Kindness in Little Things.— The sunshine of life is made upof very little beams, that are bright ail the time. In the nursery, on the play ground, and in the school, there is room rll the time for little acts of kindness that cost nothing, but are worth more than gold or silver. To give up some thing, where giving up will prevent unhappiness; to yield when persisting will chale and fret others; to go a little round rather than come against anoth er; to take an ill word or a cross look quietly, rather than return it; these are the wa sin which clouds and storms are kept off, and a pleasant and steady sunshine secured even iu very humole homes, and among very poor people, as well as in the families of highoi stations. A fellow was doubting whether or not he should volunteer to fight. On-- of the fla.s waving before his eyes bearing the inscription ‘victory or death, somewhat troubled anddiscour aged him: ‘.V.iclqry is a very good thing,’ said he, ‘but why put ft Victory or death? Just put it victory or be crippled, a^icl I'll go that.’ era! a , . maiden names of th ir oivn grand mother.', nor would it be possible for them to ascertain the fact from any le gal records. It would probably be im possible for a large portion of the mid dle-aged men and women in the Uni ted States to prove that their own pa rents- were ever married, and tnat they have any legitimate right to the name they bear. The following is an extract from . the letter of a young lady to her brother: ‘A young lady who is lovely both m person and character is irresistible ev ery where. She is the light of. her father’s house, the ornament of society, and the point at which the admiration, interest aud affection of those about her naturailv concentrate. She is, in the social circle, what the moss-rose is in the garden - of tne same general na ture with the rest, fresh and delicate in her very modesty and reliringneas,. outshining all others—the emblem el sweet reserve and innocent pleasure. There is much good sense and truth in the remark of a modern author, that no man ever prospered in the world without the co-operation of his wife. If she unites in mutual endeavors, or rewards his labor with an endearing smile, with what confidence will he re sort to his merchandise or his farm, fly over lands, sail upon seas, meet diffi- culy or encounter danger, if he knows he is not spending his strength in vain. ’ but that his labor will be rewarded by the sweets of home. An exchange tells of a cooper down east, who finding considerable difficul ty in keeping one of the heads of a cask he was finishing in its place, put his son inside to hold the head up. After completing the work much to his satisfaction, he was astonished to find Iiis boy inside the cask, and witnout a possioility of getting out, except thro the bung hole. At an evening party, lately, ayoung man from England was boastingof the pedigree, wealth and importance ofhis ancestors. , , ‘0 yes said Sam H., your father and mine spent pari of tlieir lives together. ‘Where was that?’ sharply inquired the other. , ‘In the Bloomingdale poor-house, was the stinging reply. ‘I sav, friend, is there anything to shoot about here 1’ inquired a sports man of a boy helmet. Well,’ was the reply, ‘nothing just about here stranger; but the school master is down the hill yonder—you can pop him over.’ Moral prejudices are the stop-gaps of v rtue; and, as in the case with oth? er stop gaps, it is often more difficult lo «>ft out or in through them than through any other part of the fence. Thev who have disbelieved in vir tue, because man has never been found perfect, might as reasonably deny the sun, because it is not always noon. II i.-ty words often rankle the wound which injury gives; but soft words as suage it, forgiving cures it, and forget ting takes away the scur. A man passes for a Sage if-ho seeks for wisdom; if he thinks he has found it, he is a fool.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The central Georgian. (Sandersville, Ga.) 1847-1874, May 15, 1861, Image 1