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VOLUME XV.
SANDERSVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12, 1861.
NUMBER 24.
J. M G. MEBLOCK,
editor and proprietor.
rg- The Central Georgian is published
weeklr, at Two Dollars per annum, payable in
advance. Any person sending FIVE NEW SUB
SCRIBERS, accompanied with the Cash, will be
furnished with a copy of the Georgian for one
year FREE OF CHARGE. Remittances by mail
in registered letters at our risk.
The Georgian is the organ of the Planters’
Club 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 the Club.
Subscribers wishing the direction of their paper
changed, will notify us from what office it is to be
transferred. _ .
ADVERTISEMENTS conspicuously inserted at
c;i 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 often in the forenoon and three
in the afternoon, at the Court-house in the county
in which the property is situate. Notices of these
sales must be given in a public gazette forty days
previous to the day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must
be given at least ten days previous to the day of
^Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must
he published weekly for twoiionths.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
published TniRTY days—for Dismission from Ad
ministration, monthly six months—for Dismis
sion from Guardianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months—for establishing
lost papers, for the full space of threemontlis—for
compelling titles from Executors or Administrators
where a bond has been given by the deceased, the
full space of three montl is.
Publication will always be continued according
to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered ——
Hfisrelliintoits.
‘ THE WAY T0_KEEP HIM.
‘Out again to-night?’ said Mrs.
Haynes, fretfully, as her husband rose
from the tea-table and donned his great
coat.
‘Yes, I have an engagement with
Moore; I shall be in early. Have a
light in the library. Good night,’ and
with a careless nod, William Haynes
left the room.
‘Always the way,’ murmured Mrs.
Lizzie Haynes, sinking back upon a
sofa, ‘out every night. I don’t believe
he cares one bit about me, now, and
yet we’ve been married only two
years. No man can have a more or
derly house, I am sure; and I never
go anywhere. I am not a bit extrava
gaut. and yet I don’t believe he loves
me any more. Oh! dear, why is it?
I was’nt rich, he didn’t marry me for
money, and he must have loved me
then—why does he treat me with so
much neglect?’ and with her mind
filled with fretful queries, Lizzie
Haynes fell asleep upon the sofa.
Let me paint her picture as she lay
there. She was a blonde, with a small
graceful figure, and a very pretty face.
The hair, which showed by its rich
waves its natural tendency to curl, was
brushed smoothly back and gathered
into a rich knot at the. back, ‘it was
such a bother to curl it,’ she said;
her cheek was pale, and the whole
face wore a discontented expression.
Her dress was a neat chintz wrapper,
hut she wore neither collar nor sleeves.
‘What’s the use of dressing up just lor
William ?’
Lizzie slept soundly for two hours,
and then awoke suddenly. She sat
up, glanced at the clock, and sighed
drearily at the prospect of the long in
terval still to be spent alone before bed
time.
The library was jast over the room
in which she sat, and down the fur
nace flue, through the registers, a voice
came to the young wife’s ear: it was
her husband’s;
‘Well, Moore, what’s a man to do?
I was disappointed, and I must have
pleasure somewhere. Who would have
fancied that Lizzie Jarvis, so prdtty,
sprightly and lovinsr, could change to
the fretlul dowdy she is now ? Who
"wants to stay at home to hear his wife
whining nil the evening about her
troublesome servants, and her head
ache, and all sorts of bothers? She got
the knack of that drawling whine
so pat, that, upon my life, I don’t be
lieve she can speak pleasantly 7 .’
Lizzie sat as if stunned. Was this
true? She looked in the glass. If
not exactly dowdy, her costume was
certainly not suitable for an evening,
even if it were an evening at home,
with only William to admire. She
rose, and softly went to her room, with
bitter sorrowful thoughts, and a firm
resolution to win back her husband’s
heart, and then, his love regaiued, to
keep it.
The next morning, William came in
to the breakfast-room, with his usual
careless manner, but a bright smile
came on his lips as he saw Lizzie. A
pretty chintz, with neat collar and
sleeves, of snowy muslin, and a wealth
of soft, full curls, had really metamor
phosed her; while the blush her hus
band’s admiring glance called up to
her cheek, did not detract from her
beauty. At first William thought
there must be a guest, but glancing
around he found they were alone. °
‘Come, William, your coffee will be
■stone could,’ said Lizzie, in a cheery-
pleasant voice.
‘It must cool till you sweeten my
breakfast with a kiss,’ said her husband
crossing the room to her side, and Liz
zie’s heart bounded, as she recognized
the old lover’s tones and manners.
Not one fretful speech, not one com
plaint fell upon William’s ear through
the meal. The newspaper, his usual
solace at that hour, lay untouched, as
Lizzie chatted gayly on every pleasant
subject she could think of, warming
by his gratified interest and cordial
manner.
‘You will be home to dinner?’ she
said, as she went out.
‘Can’t to-day, Lizzie, I have business
out uf town, but I’ll be home early to
tea. Have something substantial, for
I don’t expect to dine. Good-bye,’
and the smiling look, warm kiss and
lively whistle were a marked contrast
to his lounging, careless gait, the pre
vious evening.
‘I am in the right path 1’ said Lizzie,
in a low whisper. ‘Oh ! what a fool I
have been for two years! A fretful
dowdy ! William you shall never say
that again.’
Lizzie loved her husband with real
wifely devotion, and her lip would
quiver as she thought of his confidence
to his friend Moore, but like a brave
little woman she stifled back the bitter
feeling and tripped off to perfect her
plans. The grand piano, silent for
months, was opened, and the linen
covers taken from the furniture. Liz
zie thinking; ‘He don’t find any par
lours more attractive than his own, I
am determined.’
Tea time came, and William came
with it. A little figure, in a tasty,
bright, silk dress, smooth curls, and
oh! such a lovely blush and" smile,
stood ready to welcome William as he
came in, and. tea time past as the morn
ing’s meal had done.
Alter tea, there was no movement,
as usual, toward the hat rack. Wil
liam stood up beside the table linger
ing, chatting, till Lizzie also rose. She
led him to the light, warm parlours, in
their pretty glow of tasteful arrange
ment, and drew him down beside ber
on the sofa. lie felt as if he was
courting over again, as he watched her
fingers busv with some fancy needle
work, and listened to the cheerful voice
he had loved so dearly two years be
fore.
‘What are y<ju making Lizzie?’
‘A pair of slippers. Don’t you re
member how much you admired the
pair I worked for you, oh! ever so
long ago ?’
‘I remember; black velvet, with
flowers on them. I used to put my
feet on the fender and dream of blue
eyes and bright curls, and wished time
would move faster to the day when I
could bring my bonnie wee wife home
to make music in my house.’
Lizzie’s face saddened for a moment,
as she thought of the last two years,
and how little music she had made for
this loving heart, gradually weaning it
from its allegiance ; then she said :
‘I wonder if you love music as much
as you did then ?’
‘Of course I do. I often drop in at
Miss Smith’s for nothing else than to
hear the music.’
‘I can sing and play better than
Miss Smith,’ said Lizzie, half pouting.
‘But you always say you are out of
practice when I ask you.’
‘I had the piano tuned this morning.
Now open it, and we will see how it
sounds.’
Whlliam obeyed, joyfully, tossing
aside her sewing Lizzie took the piano
stool. She had a veiy sweet voice,
not powerful, but most musical, and
a very fair perlormer on the piano.
‘Ballads, Lizzie?’
‘Oh ! yes, I know you dislike opera
music in a parlour.’
One song afer another, with a noc
turne, or lively instrumental piece, oc
casionally, between them, filled up an
other hour pleasantly.
The little mantle clock struck eleven.
‘Eleven ! I thought it was about
nine. I ought to apologize, Lizzie, as
I used to do, for staying so long, and I
can truly say, as I did then, that the
time has passed so pleasantly, I can
scarcely believe it is so late.’
Tiie piano was closed, Lizzie’s work
put in the b sket, and William was
ready to go up stairs; but glancing
back he saw his little wife near the
fire place, her hauds clasped, her head
bent and large tears falling from her
eyes. He was beside her in an instant.
‘Lizzie, darling, are you ill?’ What
is the matter ?’
‘Oh! William, I have been such a
bad wife ! I heard you tell Mr. Moore,
last evening, how I "had disappointed
you ; but I will try to make your home
pleasant, indeed I will, if you will on
ly forgive and love me.’
‘Love you ! Oh ! Lizzie, you can
not guess how dearly I love you.’
As the little wife lay down that
night, she thought—
‘I have won him back again ! Bet
ter than that, I have learned the wav'
to keep him.’
One method of contributing to the
common cause of the South, at this
time, is for those who have provisions
to sell, to sell them-at moderate prices.
Let there be no exorbitant prices
for the necessaries of life. If this
should manifest itself, then the author
ities must regulate the sale of such arti
cles. We hope none are mean enough
to attempt to speculate on the exigen
cies of the State or of individuals. If
there be any such let them be frovvned
down, or put down.—Richmond Whig.
A BEAUTIFUL NARRATIVE.
BY S. H. HAMMOND.
I witnnessed a short time ago, in
one of our higher courts, a beautiful
illustration of the simplicity and power
of truth. A little girl nine years of
age was offered as a witness against a
prisoner who was on trial for felony
committed in her father’s house.
‘Now, Emil} 7 ,’ said the counsel for
the prisoner upon her being offered as
a witness, I desire to know the nature
of an oath.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ was
the simple answer.
‘There, your Honor,’ said the coun
sel, addressing the court, ‘is anything
further necessary to demonstrate the
validity of my objection ? The wit
ness should be rejected. She does not
comprehend the nature of an oath.’
‘Let me see,’ said the Judge.—‘Come
here, fty daughter.’ Assured by the
kind tone and manner of the Judge,
she stepped up to him, and looked con
fidently upon his face, with a calm,
clear eye, in a manner so artless and
frank that it went straight to the heart.
‘Did you ever take an oath ?’ inquired
the judge. The little girl stopped
with a look of horror, and the red
blood mantled in a blush all over :
‘No sir!’ She thought lie inten
ded to inquire if she ever blasphemed.
‘I do not mean that,’ stfid the Judge,
who saw her mistake. ‘I mean were
you ever a witness before ?’
‘No, sir, I never was in court be
fore,’ was the. answer.
He handed her the Bible open.
‘Do you know that book, my daugh
ter ?’
She looked at it and answered:
‘Yes sir, it is the bible.’
‘Do you ever read it ?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir, every evening.’
‘Can you tell me what the Bible is?’
inquired the Judge.
‘It is the word of the great God,’
she answered.
‘Well, place your hand upon this
Bible, and listen to what 1 have to
say :’ and he repeated slowly and sol
emnly the oath usually administered
to witnesses. ‘Now,’ said the J udge,
‘you have been sworn as a witness;
will you tell me what will befall you
if you fail to tell me the truth ?
‘I shall be shut up in the State Pris
on,’ answered the child.
‘Anything else?’ asked the Judge.
‘I shall not go to heaven,’ she re-
plied.
‘How do you know this?’ said the
Judge again.
The child took the bible, and turned
rapidly to the chapter containing the
Commandments, pointed to theinjunc
tion ; ‘Thou slialt not bear false wit
ness against thy neighbor.’ ‘I learned
that,’ she said ‘before I could read.’
‘Has any one talked to you about be
ing a witness here in court against this
man ?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied. ‘My Mother
heard they wanted me to be a witness
and last night she called me to her
room, and "asked me to teli her the
Ten Commandments, and then kneeled
down together, and she prayed that I
might understand how wicked it was
to bear false witness against my neigh
bor, and that God would help a little
child to tell the truth as it was before
Him. And when I came up here with
father she kissed me and told me to
remember the ninth Commandment,
and that God would hear every word
I said.’
‘Do you believe this ? ’ asked the
Judge, while a tear glistened in his
eye and his lips quivered with emo
tion.
‘Yes, sir,’ said the child, with an air
and manner that showed her convic
tion of the truth was perfect.
‘God bless you, my child,’ said the
Judge, ‘you have a good mother.
This"witness is competent,’ continued
the Judge. ‘Were I on trial for my
life, and innocent of the charge against
me, I would pray God for such wit
nesses as this. Let her be examined.’
She told her story with the simplic
ity of a child, as she was, but there
was a directness about it which carried
conviction of its truth to every heart.
She was rigidly cross-examined. The
counsel plied her with infinite and in
genious questionings, but she varied
from her first statement in nothing.
The truth as spoken by that little girl,
was sublime. Falsehood and perjury
had preceded her testimony. The
prisoner had entrenched himself in lies,
until he deemed himself impregnable.
"Witnesses had falsified facts in bis fa
vor, and villainy had manufacturd for
him a sham defence. But oefore her
testimony falsehood was scattered like
chaff. The little child, for wham a
mother had prayed for strength to be
o-iven her to speak the truth as it was
before God, broke the cunning device
of matured villainy to pieces like a
potter’s vessel. The strength that her
mother had prayed for was given her,
and the sublime and terrible simplici
ty (terrible I mean, to the prisoner
and his perjured associates,) with
which she spoke, was like a revalation
f.om God Himself.
One Way and the Other. ^
‘Father,’ said a woman to her bus-
band one morning, ‘the boys want
some new shoes.
‘Want, want—always wanting!’said
the man in a cross tone. ‘I’ve got no
shoes; if you want them, get them.’
‘I don’t know who should, if you
can’t’ answered the wife, catching the
spirit of her husband; and the spirit
once caught, she carried it down stairs
into the kitchen, where she quickly
saw that breakfast was in a backward
state.
‘Sally,’ she cried ‘why in the world
is not breakfast ready? the mornings
are long enough.’
‘This awful green wood?’ cried Sal
ly, who until now had been doing ber
best, but catching her mistress’ tone,
she quite lost her temper. ‘The won
der is breakfast’s got at all,’ she mut
tered, while her mistress went out,
and little Joe came in from the wood-
house.
‘Tie my shoe, Sally,’ said he; ‘the
siring has tripped me up awfully.’
‘Go away,’ cried Sally, ‘and not pes
ter me at breakfast time.’
‘Cross creature!’ cried little Joe,
pouting and pulliDg off his shoe, which
for mischief, or not knowing what
else to do; he swung at the cat lapping
her milk. The shoe sent the cat one
way and the cup another, and the milk
in a puddle.
‘You mischievous puppy,’ cried Sal
ly, giving little Joe a shake, and then
sending him off to the sitting-room.
Joe, in a terrible pet, fell upon his
little sister, who was playing with a
woolly dog, a little toy her auntie gave
her, making it bark in a wheezy tone
no real dog was ever guilty of. ' ‘Give
it to me,’ cried Joe, snatching it from
her hand, whereupon Susy burst into
an angry cry. Joe’s mother struck
him for it, and he set a howl equal to
any young cub in a bear’s den, so that
by the time breakfast was ready the
family sky was dark and squally as it
could be, for crossness is catching, and
‘the beginning of strife is as when one
letteth out water.’— Prov. 17, 4.
Kentucky will soon be invaded by
the Republican cohorts. They will
‘there catch a Tartar.’ The people of
that gallant State will never submit
to Republican demonstration. They
ought to join their sister States of the
South at once, and not wait to be driv
en into this step by the old baboon.
THE OTHER "WAY.
‘Father,’ said a woman to ber bus-
band one morning, ‘the boys want
some new shoes.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is most time,’ an
swers the husband, ‘but I can’t so well
spare the money just now. I wonder
if I could not" black them nicely up,
to make them last a little longer. Let’s
see now.’
‘Do not trouble yourself with them,
husband,’ said the wife. ‘Let me try
and see what a gloss I can put on them,
mav be they’ll look as good as new,’
and awav she tripped down stairs into
the kitchen. ‘Sally.’ she said, ‘you
are a little behind in breakfast but I’ii
helpyou. No wonder, the green wood
troubles you, I'm afraid.’
‘Please, no,’ answers Sally, ‘I'll
fetch breakfast on the table in a min
ute,’ and Sally stirs about with cheer |
ful briskness,"while little Joe comes in j
and asks to have his shoe tied.
‘In a moment, deary;’ answers Sally
‘while I run down and get some kind
lings, your ma wants breakfast.’
‘Let me go,’ says little Joe, ‘I’ll
bring some beauties,’ and away scam
pers 0 the little boy, who soon comes
back with an armful.
‘There, Sally,’ he says, ‘won’t that
help you ?’
‘Yes, deary,’ cries Sally, ‘now let’s
tie your shoes,’ and while she does it,
Joe" is looking at Pussy lapping her
milk.
‘Pussy’s had her breakfast,’ said Joe,
‘and I’il take up her cup, lest some
body should step on it and break it.
Come, pussey go with me,’ and he car
ries her into the sitting room. ‘Pussy
has had her breakfast,’ he said to sissy,
‘now will she think your woolly Jog a
real dog ? Lets show it to her.’
Sissy put down her plaything, a
little woolly dog, and sure enough,
puss as soon as she saw it, bushed up
her tail and backed up her back, just
ready for a fight, but pretty soon she
saw her mistake, and ran under the ta
ble, as if afraid to be laughed at. How
the children did laugh, and what a
pleasant breakfast that was where
kindness was the largest dish, for
‘pleasant words are as a honeycomb,
sweet to the soul, and health to the
bones.’—Prov. 46, 24.
A Learned Judge.
One of the first mummies brought
into Europe, from the East, gave rise
to a most dramatic adventure. About
a hundred years ago, an antiquary, re
turning from Grand Cairo, brought a
mummy with him presumed to be at
least three thousand, six hundred
years old. Our savant tired of the
diligences in which he had been trav
eling from Marseilles, took a barge at
Fontainebleau, which landed him
safe and sound at Port St. Bernard.
Eager to see bis family, he had his ef
fects loaded on a litter,but left his pre
cious mummy in the bottom of the
boat. The- custom house officer, on
boarding it, discovered a box of
strange shape and aspect. Suspecting
it to contain contraband goods, he had
it opened. What a spectacle! A
woman swathed in linen bandages
from head to foot! No doubt this
was a wretched victim strangled by a
jealous lover or grasping heir. The
commissary of police was instantly
sent for, and made his appearance,
flanked by two surgeons, as skilful as
himself in archaeology. The crime
was recognized, a report made of it,
and the body transported to the Mor
gue, that the friends might come and
identify it. It is presumed that none
of them made their appearance. Our
learned traveler, the next da} 7 , be
thought himself of his greatest curiosi
ty. He flew to the boat, when the
learned commissary and three minions
of the law seized him, and dragged
him before the magistrate.
‘Aha, my fellow,’ cried the latter,
‘we’ve got you.’
‘Will your honor favor me with the
reason of this extraordinary proceed
ings !’
‘It remains for you, to explain the
circumstances of the murder you have
committed.’
‘Or at least the crime in which you
were an accomplice.’
‘Good heavens!’ said the learned
man, ‘your worship is dreaming.’
‘No, sir, you’ll find me wide awake,
to yoyr cost. The eye of justice nev
er closes. Did not my officers discov
er your victim strangled and shut up
in a box ? Here’s the report of the dis
covery, duly sealed, signed and at
tested.’
‘Is that all!’ said the antiquary,
with a hearty laugh.
‘Hardened ruffian!’ cried the judge,
‘Do you indulge in levity with the
shadow of a crime so black hanging
over your head? Now, sir; look me
in the face, and answer the questions
I shall put. By whom was that young
girl placed in the boat in which she
was discovered ?’
‘Bv myself sir-,’ he replied.
‘Who swathed her with linen band
ages from head to foot ?’
‘I did, your honor.’
‘Write down, Mr. Clerk, that he ad
mits his crime.’
‘The expression is rather strong sir,’
said the antiquary.
The deed is heinous,’ said the judge.
‘How old was the girl?’
‘About nineteen years,’ was the re
ply.
"‘Of wliat country ?’ continued the
judge.’
‘Memphis, I think,’ said the anti-
Neyer too Late to Mend —‘My
dear’ said a young wife, returning from
a ball, ‘I have learned one of the most
difficult steps to-night,’
‘There is a step,’ replied the hus
band, ‘the most valuable of all; but it
is one, I fear, you will never care to
learn.’
‘Indeed, what step can that be?’
‘It is a step into the kitchen.’
The Arab’s Proof.—Some years
ago a Frenchman, who, like many h of
his countrymen, had won a high rank
among-men of science, yet who denied
the God who is the author cf all
science, was crossing the Sahara in
company with an Arab guide. He
noticed with a sneer, that at certain
times his guide, whatever obstacles
might arise, put them aside, and kneel
ing oq the burning sands called on his
God. Day after day passed, and still
the Arab never failed, till at last one
evening the philosopher, when he rose
from his knees, asked him with a con
temptuous smile, ‘How do you know
there is a God ?’ The guide fixed his
burning eye on the scoffer for a mo
ment in wonder, and then said solemn
ly. ‘How do I know there is a God?
how did I know that a man and not
a camel passed my hut last night in
the darkness? Was it not by the
print of his foot in the sand. Even
so,’ and he pointed to the sun, whose
last rays were flashing over the lonely
desert, l that footprint is not of man.’
Missouri, like Maryland, is rapidly
falling into the hands of the Black Re
publicans. Is it possible that her
people 'will tamely submit to the
Black Republican military despotism?
quary.
•When did her death take place?’'
‘About three thousand, six hundred
years ago.’
‘Prisoner! how dare you indulge in
this misplaced levity ?’
‘I am not joking, sir, I assure you,
the deceased lived in the reign of one
of thcj Pharaohs.’
Til put the handcuffs on you ras
cal!’ said the exasperated judge.
‘Your honor,’ said the prisoner,
sternly, ‘this pleasantry has been car
ried too far; ancT'let me say, sir, that
you are the most marveously ignorant
Farming is a Business.
Too many forget this. There is
poetry in farming, to be sure, if it is
rightly managed; but there is no
poetry in it if it does no pay—if there
are no satisfactory material results.—
But farming is a business. It is a dol
lar and cent transaction to produce
and market a crop—from the turning
of the first furrow to the delivery of
the last bushel, money is involved.
Farming should accordingly be con
ducted in a business manner. Each
item of expense, each moment of time,*
all expenditure of labor, should be
charged to the crops, and if the mar
ket price of the product does - not cov
er this cost and leave a balance, that
kind of husbandry had better be aban
doned.
Most men acknowledge the force of
the above position, but say, ‘Why, we
systematize our business, keep a book
account with the farm, and do things as
we see it is only profitable to do.’
Very well. Suppose you are not ca
pable. Grant it. There is something
which can be done. Your children
may be so educated that they shall
not follow in your footsteps per force
be obliged to submit to the yoke your
ignorance imposes upon you. See
that they are secure in that knowledge,
and insist that they put it in practice
as they obtain it. Give over the farm
accounts to their keeping. Furnish
the girls as well as the boys with the
facilities for acquiring this knowledge.
It is essential to one as the other. Let
the girls keep up the houshold ac
counts. Interest them in this. Let I
them learn the lesson figures teach, I
when used to dpsignate receipts and |
expenses. They will thus learn econ
omy to calculate. Do not fear they ;
will become sordid. This process will j
give great power to'indulge in poetic)
fancies and poetic employments. And
they will be really poetic, for they
will be based upon facts.—Prairie Far-
me*•.
The Cost of an Estate.
‘What is the value of this estate?’
said a gentleman to another with whom
lie was riding, as they passed a fine
mansion and through rich fields.
‘I don’t know what it is valued at;
I know what it cost its late possessor.’
‘How much?’
‘His soul!’ '
A solemn pause followed this brief
answer. The person to whom it was
given was not seeking first the king
dom of God and his righteousness.
The late possessor referred to was
the son of a pious man, who supported
his family by the labor of bis hands.
The son early obtained a subordin
ate position in a mercantile establish
ment in the city. He was then a pro
fessor of religion. He then gave
increasing attention to business and
less to religion. Ere he was an old
man he had become exceedingly
wealthy and miserly and no one who
knew him, had any suspicion that he
had ever been a professor of religion,
lie purchased a large landed estate,
built the costly mansion referred to
above and died.
Just before he died, he said, ‘My
prosperity has been my/ruin.’
A Scrap erom History.—It is a
circumstance som^vhat remarkable
that Virginia was the eighth State of
the thirteen to give its adhesion to the
Federal Constitution in 1787, and is
now the eighth State of the South to
secede from it. But what is more, her
recent reluctance to leave the L nion
was only equalled by ber original
aversion to becoming a part of it, un
der the Constitution that was presen
ted for ratification. The Convention
of 1787 was composed of members, a
majority of whom were elected to re
ject the Federal Constitution ; and it
Over Dressing.—The over dress
ing of American ladies in the streets,
and hotels, and in churches, is a sub
ject of general remark among travel
ers from abroad, as well as sensible
people at home; though to little pur
pose, it would seem as at no period
has the love of display been more con
spicuous in our country. American
women are slaves to dress; it is.the
bane of their life, aye, and of the male
victims, too whose lives are connect
ed with theirs. Traveling trunks, al
most as large as a small house, must
be carried about, filled with all sorts
of finery, for a summer jaunt to wa
tering places, and for a winter visit to
a city. The father or husband vainly
remonstrates; flounced dresses . and
crinoline must have ample space, and
there must be a variety, too, in the
costumes. ‘Heaven save the ladies,
how they dress!’ may we well ex
claim. Why will they not become
more practical ? Does the most fastid
ious critic of female beauty admire a
young lady in fustoilette more than
in simple dress? If beautiful, there is
no need of ornament; if plain, she
should appear without pretension. We
have known ladies who have traveled
through the continent of Europe with
only a small trunk to contain their
wardrobe, and they found a wonder
ful relief in not having ‘too much to
man that ever sat upon the bench.— j was only after the clause declaring that
Where were you brought up. that you j ‘the power granted under the Constitu-
haven’t even suspected that, for two j tion, being derived from the people of |
days, you have been holding an inves- : the United States, be resumed by them j
ligation of the pretended murder of an j whensoever the same shall be perver-
Egyptian mummy ?’ ted to their injury and oppression, and
°‘A mummy !’ exclaimed the judge. | that every power not granted thereby,
‘Of course, sir, said the antiquary; ! remains with them at their will,’ was
‘and if you had conducted your exam {inserted in the ordinance of ratifiea-
ination properly, you would have * tion, that six or more of the majority
known that you" are addressing Count j opposed to the measure consented to
fie D a member of the Acade- | vote for it . Even with this accession
mv of Inscriptions and Belles Letters.’
“‘My lord,’ said the judge, ‘I beg a
thousand pardons. I hope your lord
ship will forget—’
‘I will forgive everything,’ he inter
rupted. ‘Give me my mummy; and
try, in future to obtain experts, who
will come a little nearer than three or
four thousand years in guessing at the
date of a person’s death.’
The magistrate, very much mortified
at his blunder, gave up the mummy ;
but he never heard the last of the
story.
of strength, the Constitution was car
ried only by a vote of 89 to 79.—
Charleston Courier.
To Sleep Weel.—We find the
following in one of our exchanges;
we don’t know whether it is humbug
or philosophy. It can do no harm to
shift your bed and try it.
The earth is a magnet, with magnet
ic currents constantly playing around
it. The human body is also a mag
net, and when the body is placed in
certain relations to the earth, these
currents harmonize—when in any
other position they conflict. When
‘Ary Paper Over.—Since the be
ginning of the war excitement it is not , „
extravagant to say the above question j one position is to be maintained for
has been propounded to us five hun-! some time; a position should be cho-
dred times. We have submitted to j sen in which the magnetic currents of
the imposition of newspaper beggars j the earth and the body will not con-
long enough. Those who want a pa- j flict. This position, as indicated by
per to read, can get it by having their j theory, and known by experiment, is
names entered upon the Mail book, J to lie with the head toward the north
and paving the money. What would i pole. Persons who sleep with their
! these liberal minded people think of us i heads in the opposite direction, or ly-
j if we should persist in asking them ev- ! ing crosswise, are liable to fall into va-
ery week if they ha! ‘Ary bushel of j rious nervous disorders. When they
corn over?’ or if they ‘Couldn’t give ! go back to-the right position, these
: us a spar bog?’ It costs us labor and | disorders, if not too deeply impressed
! money to print newspapers as well as J upon the constitution, soon vanish.
; it costs them to produde corn and ba- i Sensitive persons are always more re-
| con. Live and let live. j freshed by sleep when their heads point
Single copies of the paper price five I due north. Architects, in building
j cents. Bring the change with. you.— iTiouses, should bear this principle in
Athens Banner. [mind.
UCgr* In our city there is a lad pro
verbial as being a bad speller. The
school that he attends has among its
many rules and reglations one that re
quires the scholars to spell a column
in the dictionary, and ‘give the mean
ings,’ just as the school opens; well,
this lad was ‘foot’ of the class. The
next day the first word was ‘admit
tance.’ This lad was walking around
sight-seeing, when his eye fell upon a
circus-bill, which, among other induce
ments to draw a crowd, had ‘admit
tance twenty-five cents—niggers and
children at half-price.’ Our young
friend spelled the word, and recollect
ing it was the first in his to morrow’s
lesson, learned it by ‘heart.’ Next-
lady, strange to say, the head boy
missed and the next, and the next, and
so on, until it came to our particular
friend, who was in the mean time all
excitement with the hope of his get
ting ‘head’ being sanguine that he wa3
right. Here’s the result:
Teacher. ‘Boy at the foot, spell
‘admittance.’
Boy. ‘Ad-mit-tance, admittance.’
Teacher. ‘Give the definition.’
Boy.‘Twenty-five cents-niggers and
children half-price!’
We sometimes meet with men who
seem to think that an indulgence in an
affectionate feeling is a weakness. They
will turn from ajourney and greet their
family with a distant dignity, and
move among their children with the
cold and lofty splendor of an iceberg
surrounded by its fragments. There is
hardlv a more unnatural sight on earth
than "one of those families without a
heart. A father had better extinguish
a boy’s eyes than take away his heart.
Who that has experienced the joys of
friendship, and values spmpathy and
would not rather lose all that is beau
tiful in nature’s scenery than be robbed
of the hidden treasures of his heart?
Cherish then your heart’s best af
fections. Indulge in the warm and
gushing emotions of filial, parental and
fraternal love.
Gen. Beauregard, who has figured
so much of late in military affairs at
Charleston, is thus described by a
correspondent:
‘He looks more like a French Mar
shal than an American soldier. He
is about five feet nine inches high,
deeply bronzed, with a grizzly mous
tache, black hair, and a calm, but se
rene black eye. His head denotes
great mathematical powere, and his
whole appearance is martial and im
pressive in the extreme.
Long afflictions will much set off
the glory of heaven. The longer the
storm the sweeter the calm ; the lon
ger the winter nights the sweeter the
summer days. The new wine of
Christ’s Kingdom is the most sweet to
those who have long been drinking
gall and vinegar. The higher the
mountain, the gladder we shall be
when we get to the top of it. The
longer our journey is, the sweeter will
be our end; and the longer our pas
sage is, the more desirablejwill heaven
be.
According to the Northern papers
there seems to be two parties there
now —‘the Democrats who are enlist
ing to fight the battles of the country,
and the Republicans who are robbing
them of their rations and clothing by
all sorts of swindling contracts.’
Within a week the ladies of Ral
eigh, N. C., made and turned over to
the Adjutant-General, 1,500 mattress
es, 600 towels, 800 uniform jackets,
200 pantaloons, 400 fatigue shirte and
and 200 haversacks, the materials of
which were obtained chiefly by their
contributions and-efforts.
Idleness is hard work for
those who are not used to it, and
dull work for those who are. Noth
ing is so hard to do, as to do nothing.
|5pr When men will not listen to
us, th’ey are not, therefore, necessari*--;
ly devoid of wisdom,
