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\ tntv jc o r (r i a n ❖ 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,