Newspaper Page Text
Is IJUB THE CORNER STONE
*TAMT.'<? V f oßMifu ’
‘yu***’ v
[Foil tiik Corner Stone.]
Speak Kindly, &c.
BY C. J. H.
SpeuU kindly to tlio sad and lone,
And always cheer the friendless on;
. Use gentle words and ever kind,
Cheer up the grief o’erclouded mind—
A gentle word, oh how it thrills 1
Tho heart which joy but seldom fills. ,
Speak kindly to-tliesad and lone,
Although each joy ho loved hath flown ;
To him who once could look on high
And sec no cloud upon his sky ;
For when at last it gathers there,
A few kind words might banish fear.
Speak kindly to’tlio sad and lone,
II hen all thyir sweetest aro none,
‘When as some-loved and ohenshed flower,
They wither in a single hour;
For kind words then fr.ll on the-car
Like sunshine bursting o’er despair.
Speak kindly to the sad and lone,
Who breasts life’s tempests all alone,
Whose spirits unsubdued and firm,
Are still erect amid the storm ;
Like noble sails when wreck is there,
“till bearing proudly through despair.
Speak kindly to the sad and lone,
Though many a joy they may have known ;
Though in some past but distant hour,
Their paths were strewn with many a flower;
TV hen they have faded then they- need
More kindness whilst their bosoniß bleed.
Speak kindly to the sad lone,
On whom no sunny hour hath shone;
IFor though misfortune’s breath may chill,
The heart can bound with feeling still;
And one kind word then floods it o’er
With joy it never knew before.
Speak kindly to the sad and lone,
Though you have not that kindress known—
Though journeying on with prosperous sail,
Tour barb hath never met the gale;
You know not when that winds may sweep
Your vessel o’er a stormy deem
Aye though your friends are ’round you now—
And though your hopes may brightly glow,
How soon nu evil hour may blight v
The joys whieh give you most delight,
And leave you pining for relief,
Which kiudness brings for pain and grief.
Y'es, you may yet he left alone, .
And yon may he the friendless one; w
You know not when the sky so bright.
May be o'ercast with gloom and night ;
An hour e'eu iimv come and bear
Its brightness ofT'aml bring tfespaie.
Misfortune’s brentb, aye v ’ o can say
It may not take our boprs away—
The spirit, proud though it it may bravo
Tlic adverse storm, tho wind nud wave,
Jt-still must bend or bl eak nt last,
Before the madly rushing blast.
As life’s fresh morning bright, and fair,
At last grows darkened by despair— ;
As sweetest flower of pinmise bloom,
r To full as offerings o’er the tomb;
So tboso wc learn to love the best
Arc stricken and we weep the lost.
O ! then show kindness to the lone,
And strive to cheer the friendless on;
Speak kindly to him when be weeps,
And o’er bis grief a vigil keeps;
For when oppressed by care and pain,
Kind words will cheer him ion again.
And when he vainly seeks relief,
p}stractcd, maddened by his grief; f
Ah! then if you would know the power
Os kindness shown him in that homy,
Speak kindly, gently and von will
Find it hath a power to Beal.
wwsa—wiw———
illififfllrtncoiifi,
JFrom the Boston Olive Brnneh.]
’ A MOTHER’S INFLUENCE.
•‘And so you sail to-morrow, Will? I
miss you.’
‘Yes, I’m bound to see the world.—
‘l’ve been beating my wings in despara
ilion against the wires of my cage these
ihrpe years. I know every stick, and
tstone, and stump in this odious village
(by heart, as well as I do those stereotyp
ed sermons of Parson Greys.’ He calls
? .ic ‘a 6cape-grace’—‘pity I should have
fJIP in.me without thp game,’ said he bit
terly ‘I haven’t room here to run the
length of my efaaim I’ll show him
what I can do jn a wiatjr held of action.’
(JhiEimw did you biaig your father
‘Oh, he rid of me;
quite disgusted, uiSfmse J’ve no fancy
for sggimfcorn and oais grow. The
truth is, every father knows at once too
much and too little about his own son;
the old gentleman never understood me;
he soured my temrer, which was origi
nally none of the best, roused all the
worst feelings of my nature, and is con
stantly driving me from instead of to,
the point he would have me reach.’
‘And your mother ?’
‘Well, there you have me ; that’s thrt
(Only humanized portion of my heart—
the only soft spot in it. She came to my
bed-side last night, after she tboughjijf
•was asleep, gently kissed my forehead,
and then knelt by my bed-side. I’ve
ibeen wandering round the fields all the
morning, to try to get rid of that prayer.
Old Parson Grey might prefich at me,
till the millenium, and it wouldn’t move
me any more than a
m
THE CO! NEK STONE
ict. -J.’iSl Si L 6”
VOL 1.
know a person foels what he is praying
about. I’m wild and reckless, and wick
ed, I supposej but I shall never be an
infidel while I remember my mother.—
You should see the way she hears my
father’s impetuous temper; that’s grace
not nature, Harry; but don’t let us talk
about it—l only wish my parting with
her was well over. Good bye God
bless you Harry; you’ll hear from me,
if the fishes don’t make a supper of me ;’
and Will left his friend and entered the
cottage.
His mother was moving nervously
and restlessly about, tying up all sorts of
mysterious little parcels that only moth
el’s think of, in case he should be sick,’
or in case he should be this, that or the
other, interrupted occasionollv by ex
clamations like this from the old farmer;
“Fudge —stuff—great over-grown baby
—making a fool of him—never be out
of leading strings?’ then turning about
and facing Will as he entered, he said:
‘Well, sir, look in your sea-chest, and
you’ll find gingerbread and physic, darm,
ing needles and tracts, “bitters” and,
Bibles, peppermint and Aid linen rajiq
and opedeluoc. Pshaw \ I was more of
a man than you when Ewas nine years
old. Your mother always made a” fool
of you and that was entirely unnecessa
ry, too, for you were always short of
what is called common 6ense.
You needn’t tell the eajjptain, you went
to sea, because yon didn’t know enough
to he a landsman; or that you never did
anything right in your life, except by
accident. Yon are as like that ne’er do
well, Jack Ilalpine, as two peas. If
there is any thing in you, I.nope that salt
water will fetch it out.Gome, your
mother has your supper relAy, I see.’
Mrs. Low’s hand tremble#as she pass
ed her boy’s cup. It was Life last meal
under that roof for many a long day.
She did not trust herself to speak, her
heart was too full. .Shi had heard all
his father so injudiciously said to him,
and she knew too well from former ex
perience, the effect it would have upon
his iinpetndiis, fiery spirit. She had on
ly to oppose to it a mother’s prayers, and
teal's, and all enduring love. She never
condemned, in Will’s hearing, of
his father’s philippics, always excusing
him with the general remark that he
didn’t understand him. Alone, she
mourned over it, and when with her
husband, tried to place matters on a bet
ter footing for both parties,
Will noticed his mother's swollen eye
lids.; by saw.
that she had busied’ herself in wi'epfu'inif
for him, and he ate and <J||Kk Jvmu site,
gave, without tasting a
lowed, listening for the hnnth'O'lfc tfine
to his father’s account of j
when a .young man.
‘Just half an hour, Will,’ said hi-Esth
er, ‘before you staff 1 , run up and sßif
you liaye forgotten any of your ilmls^F
It was the little room he had always
called his own. How many nights lie j
had lain there listening to the rain pat
tering on the low roofo how many'inorn
ings awakened by tho chirp of the roj>-
bin in the apple tree under the window.
There was the little bed with its snowy,
covering, and the thousand, and one litri
tie comforts prepared by fois mother s,
hand. He turned his was at 1
his side, and her arms aboirfe his neck/
‘God keep my boy !’ was si Or- she could*
utter. lie knelt gt her feet as in thO!
days of childhood, from thope wayward
lips came this tearful prayer. ‘O, (hod
quire my mother, that I may look lqffHKi
her face in this world.’
Oh, in a few days, when that voice
had died out from under'the paternal j
roof, how sacred was tlijCt spot to her
who gave him birth? ‘lJiere was hope
fur the Boy ? he had recognized his
mother’s God. By that invisible silken
cord, she still held the wiftderer, though
broad seas rolled between.
Letters came to Moss (sjlen—at stated
intervals, then more irregularly, pictur
ing only the bright spot in die sailor
file, (for Will was proud,.and they were
to be scanned by his fatner|i eyes.) The
usual temptations of a sailorjh life, when
in port were not unknown),to him—of
every cup the syren Pleasure held to
his lips, he drank to the dregs ; hut there j
were moments in his maddest revels,
tvlien that angel whisper, ‘God keep my
boy,’ daring hancKqud arrest
ed that half uttered oath. Disgusted
with himself, he would turn aside an in
stant, but only to drown again injire reck
lessly that small torturing voice.
‘You’re a'stranger in these parts,’ said
a rough farmer to a sun burnt trav
eler. ‘Look as though ylu had been in
foreign parts.’
‘Do I?’ said Will,:Slouching his hat
over his eyes. ‘Who lives in that little
cottage under theliiM?’
( 01d Farmer Low —and a rough cus
tomer, lie is, too; it’s a word and a blow
with him. The old lady has had a hard i
tiq&e of it, good as she, is, to put up with !
hijacks and quirks. She bore it very j
Wbll till the lad went away, and then
she began to droop like a willow in a
storm, and lose all heart, like. Doctor 1
stuff didn’t do any good, as long as she !
got no news of the boy. She’s to bej
buried this afternoon, sir.’
Poor Will stayed to hear no more,
but tottered in the direction of the. cot
tage. He asked no leave to enter, but •
cor, intu us, UEOirfaA ’ ‘ru. tut slur, auuust ji, iss*.
’ to tli e litTfo’
1 ‘best parlor,’ and found himself alone
with the dead. It was too true ! Dumb
were the lips that shoutd have welcomed
him; and tho arms that should have
enfolded him were crossed peacefully
over the heart that beat true to him till
the last.
Conscience did its office. Long years
of mad folly passed in swift review be
fore him, and over that insensible form
a vow was made and registered in Heav
en.
‘A our mother should have lived to see
this day, Will,’ said a grey haired old
nian, as he leaned on the arm of the
clergyman, and passed into the village
church.
‘Bless God, my dear father, there is
(joy in Heaven over one sinner that re
penteth;’ and of all the angel band,
there is one seraph hand that sweeps
more rapturously its harp to-day, for ‘the
lost- that is found!’ ’
y Fanny Fkknv. *
’ BONAPARTE'S OPINION OF CHRIST.
A foreign journal lately published a
conversation, related by the Count, de
Montholon. the faithful friend of Em
peror Napoleon.
“I now tell you that Jesus Christ is
not a man ! The religion of Christ is a
mystery which subsists by its own force,
and proceeds from a mind which is not
a human mind. We find it in a marked
individuality, which originated a train
of words and actions unknown before.—
J esus b(in-owed nothing from knowledge.
IJe exhibited in himself a perfect exam
ple of his precepts. Jesus is not a phi
losopher, for his proofs are miracles, and
from the first, his principles adorned
him. In fact, learning and philosophy
arc of no use for salvation; and Jesus
came into the world to reveal the mys
teries of Heaven, and the laws of the
Spirit.
“Alexander, Cmsar, Charlemagne, and
myself founded empires; but on what
foundation did we rest the erection of
our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ
alone founded his empire upon love , and
at this hour millions would die for him.
It, was not a day, or a battle that
achieved the Christian religion in the
world. No, it was a long war—a con
test for three centuries—begun by the
Apostles, and then continued by the
Hood of Christian generations. In this
war, if all the kings and potentates of
„tUcjdSUth.w/:veayi one. side—on the oth
"er, I see no army but nr mysterious force,
some men scattered here and there in
foil parts of the world, and who nsve no
other rallying point than a common faith
jin the mysteries of the cross.
“I die before my time, and my body
be given back to the earth, io be
■ Rune food forAe worms. Such is the
fate of himlßfoo has been called the
j great Napoleon. What an abyss be
j tween my deep misery and the eternal
i kingdom of Christ, which is proclaimed,
: loved and adored, and which is extend
over the whole earth! Call you
tins dying? Is it not living, rather?—
/The death of Christ is the death of God!”
ppNapoleon stopped at tho last words;
but pen. Bertraiid making no reply, the
Em fearer added:
“If you do not perceive that Jesus
Christ ispod. I did wrong to appoint j
you General.”
SpLNE IN A BEER SHOP.
***N\fta#*merprising Dutchman who kept
a porter house in New York, gave the
i following account at the police, of an
! assault*:)!) Ids premises; speaking of the
person commenced the row, he
said:
“He ccfiruri in, and asked me to sell
him soiTuftSu; I told him he had more
as would fl®iim goot— he called me a
Dutch liarimd pegin to proke two of
ray ven me and Hans
Speigrer, <mu my vise and dorter Betsy,
and all de odder inert and beeples apont
my place, pegins to put him out —and
presently he coom pact wid more shees
like him, and say—M will fix dis peer
concern and preak him up, and de shen
i tlemens as wants to get trunk may go to
! sbumvers else, and not in this tarn Duch
pisen. Den day kick nans Speigler be
hind his pack, and kissed my dorter Betsy
pefore her face, except de stone butcher,
and spilt my vise and me and todder
parrels of peer all over de celler. Hans
run out der door and called for vatcli
house, and my vise called for murder
like de tivel, but,pefore ;le vatcb house
| come, der tarn rodies proke us all to
! pieces, me and my vise, and dorter Betsy
I and ter tarn pottles and tumplers and
j blates and dishes, all smashed up toged
| der.”
Soldieksof 1812. —The following res
olution was adopted at a very large
| meeting of the soldiers of 1812. held in
j Philadelphia lately,
i Resolved, That a Convention of all
\ who served in the war of ISI2, be held
in the city of Philadelphia on the Bth
I of January, 1854, to be composed of del
| egates from the several States, to decide
upon such measures as they shall deem
expedient for renewing and keeping
alive the records of their past history,
apd doing justice to those who may have
; chums upon 6\\r common country.
\ Ma H r\
vaAng t 11 fovi. SM9SS&S&}' Ini ’
lira FTprv vommonweattk
makes the following extract from a pho
nographic report. of a recent sermon by
Lev. Ifieodor • barker, of this city. The
original of tl. piesure understood to
be a lng’iiiv f : ciued resident of New
ton : (.'‘W j’
Toe bap; Ist man I have ever known
is 01 e fat enough from beiiur rich, in
money, an\] who will never he very
much neari to it. His calling fits him,
and lie likes It), rejoices in its process as
much as iulifs result. He has an active
mind, wel| filled. lie reads and he
thinks. IS i mils his garden before sun
rise,. everv/p. in ing, then rides sundry
miles by foe vail, does his ten hours work
in the t • !• -nee he returns happy and
cheerful ji m’ ith his own he catches the
earliest siiile of the morning, plucks
the first fose of hjs garden, and goes to
his workwifh. the little flower in his
haiftHll|fe feiffone blossoming out of
his heart.’ e runs over with charity,
as a cloud van rain ; and it is withfoim
as wif.hjtt) cloud—what coming from !
the cloitu is.rain to the meadows, is a i
rainbow of glories to the cloud that pours [
it out. Tlic happiness of the affections !
fills up the good man, and lie runs over !
with triendV'dp and love—connubial, 1
parental, filial, friendly, too, and philan
thropic beanies. His life is a perpetual
“trap to catch a sunbeam,” and it al- j
ways “sotbigv’ and takes it in. I know
n° ma.j and jA gets more out of life; and
tne p /l it is that lie does his duty
to to his brother, and to his
God. ixiow rich men, and learned
men, mei*>f great, social position; and
if there is genius in, America, I know
tlint, bitt man I have never
known!
IHI ■
* A DARING LEAP.
The following account of this daring
deed is tri m the Nashville Banner, of the
25th ult : v
A large number of persons collected
together Saturday evening to witness the
leap of Air. Watkins, from the suspen
sion brid<J.‘. At the hour appoints he
mountedWie railing, near the centre of
the the lower side, waved his
hat to and boldly made the
leap. AstL' descended, and whop about
ten or fifitpn feet from the water, luX
threw hijjrlrif back for the purpose of I
striking tia’wwater feet foremost, but a
little But be miscalculated the
distance, owing to'the illusion caused by
the canoes in the stream, whieh seemed
to .shot. swiftly dpwtq nod
caused him to think himself nearer them
than he really was, and on reach
ing the water, !ii u |body leaned more
than lie intended,'€iid he struck partial
ly upon Ills back, fi’lic concussion was
very severe, and sent the water flying in
every direction. On coming to the sur
face he attempted to swim, but was too
much injured to do so. He was lifted
into a canoe, carried to the upper land
ing, and : thence borne to his boarding
house. He is not. seriously hurt, and
will be able, it is thought, to be out in a
few days.
The height of tho bridge, at the con- j
tre, above the water, is 110 feet.
HEROISM AND CRUELTY.
A most touching instance of heroism,
and most atrocious acts of!
cruelty, the truth of which is vouched
for by the most respectable authority,
occurred during the Columbian struggle
for independence. The Spanish General,
Morillo, the most bloodthirsty and treach
erous tool of the Spanish King, who
was created count of Carthagenia, and
Marquis de la Bueria, for services which
rather entitled him to the distinction of
butcher or hangman, while seated in his
tent one day during the campaign of
Carracas, saw a boy before him drowned
in tears. The chief demanded of him
for what purpose he was there ?
The child replied that he hail come to
beg the life of his father, then a prisoner,
in Morillo’s camp.
“What can you do to save your fath
er?” asked the General.
“I can do but little, hut what I can
shall be acme.”
Morillo seized he little fellow’s ear,
and said, “would yon suffer your ear to
be taken oft’ to procure your father’s lib
erty ?”
“I certainly would,” was the undaunt
ed reply.
A soldier was accordingly called and
ordered io cut oft’ the ear with a single
stroke of the knife. The boy wept but
did not resist while this barbarous order
was executed.
“Would you lose your other ear rath-’
er than fail in your purpose ?” was the I
next question.
“I have suffered much, hut for my fatli
or I can suffer still!” was the heroic
answer of the boy.
fi’lie other car was taken off piecemeal
without flinching on the part of the no
ble ejaild.., _ - .
“And now go!”* exclaimed Morillo,;
untouched by his sublime courage, “the
father of such a son must die.”
In the presence of his agonized and
vainly suffering son, the patriot father
was then executed. Never did a file
picture exhibit such truthful lights and
shades in national character, such deep
treachercas villainy-—such lofty enthu
siastic heroism.
AMF WE ALL HONEST ?
| The truth is,’ tlit it fa difficult to take a
| deliberate survey of all that, is going on
around us, or even to look into the mir
ror of conscience, without arriving at
the conclusion that, on some points, all
:of us are but indifferently honest. Do
j not be offended, dear reader—we may
not include you in the catagory of the
‘ Fitzartluirs. Wc admit that you are jro
! swindler ; and believe that in cash mat
ters von are as punctual as a lnim-baliff.
But, if you never have in the course of
your life commit ted an act which may,
without any stretch, be denominated a j
I false pretence, you are indeed a pattern !
i of purity, and faultless as an unfathered
phoenix. Let me ask you a few ques
| tions.
Have you not, over and over again,
attempted to pass yourself off in aociety
M'wa much clover a fclhnv than you re
ally are ? Have you not aftecUd to
’ know a great deal upon subjects olj which
J you are utterly ignorant—to havefead
J books where absolutely unknown tofi
by name—and to recognize and appre
i ciate quotations in foreign languages
whereof you knew no more than the
Modes did of malt liquor? Have you
not,’ in order to suit yourself to your
company, feigned to hav e a horror for
things which, in private yen enjoy with
die keenest relish ? Hypocrite that yon
are ! why did yon, when dining with the
Marquis of Tokay, join in the general
denunciation of beer as brutal, at the
time your whole being was possessed
with an intense craving for stingo?
With our own ears wo heard you, in
one circle, avow your admiration of the
opera as the grandest of intellectual de
lights; and not an hour afterwards, at
tin Durcow’s Head, you gave it as your
deliberate opinion that a lino British
spectacle at Astev’s was worth all tjie
foreign catterwauling in the universes—
Dare you go up to that dowager and tell
her that you smoke six cigars every day
of your life, or that you are addicted to
brandy and water? Not you. You
wish her to suppose, and do your utmost,
to encourage the delusion, that you are
a most agreeable, amiable, faultless
young man, without any of the vices
which are unfortunately too common,
ynd that you never are otherwise than
j you seem when discoursing uielliiluous
:ly upon the poetry £>f art; Heaven and
earth! ts she could only see you after
wards in the club smoking-room. Well,
we don’t blame you for wishing to main*
tainra •gvitJ Hmaatea# .•->i\<i*My keeping
flic cloven foot concealed in the tidiest of
possible boots. Only be charitable, and
let the senses of your own weakness teach
you not to press over hard upon others.
In this ago of ours, there is a good deal j
of the Pharasaical spirits abroad, which
we take to he somewhat akin to the cruel
impulse which leads animals to attack
the wounded of their kind.— Blackwood's
Magazine.
HOW A MAN FEELS WITH HIS HEAD OFF.
It is considcrod on all sides that the body j
does not feel one instant after deeupiia-!
tion; for the brain being the seat of sen- j
sation to the whole frame, through the
medium of the spinal marrow, every
part of the body being beneath the joint
at which the latter may be divided, must
be deprived of feeling. Bat it by no
means follows that the head is deprived
of sensation immediately after decapita
tion, nor that it may not retain its con
sciousness, and, like the head of the
Irish Knight who was killed hy Saladin
in the Holy War, get up and declare that
it was never cut off by so sweet a scim
itar before, nor like that of the assassin Lo
gare, swear roundly at the executioner
for not keeping a keener axe; bun it is
quite possible that it may be troubled
with very serious reflections upo® the
irrevocability of its fate, and the awful
ness of its deprivation. In support of
this unpleasant theory, many facj are
adduced, with grave vouchers for their
authenticity. Among others is thd&Sttni*
fortunate Queen of Scotts, wlmse lips
continued to move in prayer fofat least
a quarter of an hour after the ej&cution
ef had” performed Ins Wftidt
states that, having put his 100111$ to the
ear of a decapitated criminal's head, and
called him byname, the eyes turned to
the side from whence tho voiqfc came;
and this fact is attested by Foateuello,
Mogoric, Gullotine, And Aldi
ni. On the word murder being called,
in the case of a criminal executed for
that crime at Goblentz, the'half closed
, eyes opened wide with an expression of
tune 2, 1853.
jj. t. ©iy)iMiMAiNi fl o. ©= ©.,
Surgical A. Mechanical Dentist,
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.
a FOSTER * FEBPLe’s JEWELRY STORE, 69, BROAD ST.
3£lumbus, Feb. 8, 1858. 1 I
Decidedly cool.” 1
JRT G. STRUPPER’S ICE CREAM SESS
* JL, SALOON will be open to thOC.
blic THIS DAY. Lovers of Strawberries
1 Cream, will make tliciv arrangemer ts ac
!£& l - G - STRUPPER >
April 81, 1833—12 ts. Randolph Street.
BATES OF MVERTlsiNlijjf
Advi'tkvmeiit lawrtod at Ok* iv...,y
----tesasj&as? *•”
Ali tier til deiiietiou -Hill made f.. ..-.fet
advei-tit<emeiilß. # •
Advert ittemeuts inilArtccl at, the uatiil
! Ad without limitation, w j[| du!>-
| Hsiu and llitlir torhid, and charged aeeorjjfcty 1
\ NO. 28.
THE wflPffc’
Tim (’nous jx Viiftimr a.—Tim win- it
harvest being now over, we are enabled •
to sav that the crop in Frederick and the
, adjoining counties is a full average one
j ~ tlie loss 011 some farms by the fly and
joint-worm being loss serious than was
anticipated, and far from sufficient to al
- the general result. The wheat ripen*
ed very rapidly, and those who had a
nug’o breadth to get in will, of course,
lose something by shattering.
In Shenandoah, the Tenth Legion sa vs;
“The crop is a much heavier one than
j was anticipated a few weeks ago. It is
| true, in many instances, the late sown
wheat, and particularly the smooth varie
ties, were very much injured; yet the
crop, as a whole, taking into considera
tion the superior quantity of the grain,
will not fall far short of an average one.”
The Martinsbijrg Republican states
that “the crop of the county is a full av
erage, and the wheat is of superior
quality.” *
The Martinshurg Gazette says:
“The wheat harvest is ended, and the
.expectations of the husbandmen aro
more than realized. The quantity is, we
are glad to learn, fully equal to “that, of
last, year, and the quality first rate. The
prospect for a good crop of corn is fair.
The Romney Intelligencer thus speaks
for Ilamshire:
“Along the Branch, in this county the
wheat crop is remarkably good, and in
the other portions of the county, we be
lieve, u much more plentiful crop has
been reaped than was hoped for early in
the spring.
“The corn, though it lias suffered
severely for the want of rain, Is very
capable of resuscitation. Several show
ers on Sunday last, and a very line one
during the same night, have broken up
—we hope finally—the long drought.”
Detroit, July B.—l arrived here last
night from the interior. Fanner* aro
busy now cutting wheat. They have had
eooi, comfortable weather to begin with.
The crop will turn out fine from the
threshing machine. The straw is short,
hut that is of no value here. With vour
Jersey and Long Island farmers it forms
an important item. The.price will prob
ably range from 75 to 9u cents. Good
crops for several had an effect
upon the price of land.
Lfxixoto.n>, July ‘9.—The best crop of
. wheat ever grown in Kentucky has bean
housed. The season has- been exactly
suited to that crop. Some Australian
■ wheat grown by John L. Elbert, 1 Is-much
talked of.
,Ciiicagot, July 8. —Such a good crop
of wheat never grew before in this great
wheat region. The yield per acre is
great and quality excellent.
Corn is everywhere backward, and
Hay short: Oats do,
Ottawa, 111., July 9.—This is a year
of abundance among farmers. They are
now busy cutting AVlieat. The crop is
bettor than it has beeii in years. Oats
arc just heading —the straw is short,
Recent rains have improved Com and
Rota toes.
Paris, 111., July 7. —The Wheat liar
vest is over; the yield is beyond prece
dent; the berry good and uninjured by
flies. Corn never looked better. Oats
are short but head well. Grass light.
AND WIIAT NEXT?
A gentleman riding near the city,
overtook ft well dressed young man., and
invited him to a seat in his carriage.
“And what (said tlio gentleman totho
young stranger) are your plans leg the
future f”
“I am a clerk,” replied the young man,
“and my hope is to succeed, and get into
business for myself.”
“Ami what next f asked the gentle
man,
“W hy, I intend to, marry, and set up
au establishment of my own,” said the
youth. •.
“And what next?” continued the in
terrogator.
“Why, to continue in business and ac
cumulate wealth.” .
“Amfwhat next?*’
“It is the lot of all to die, and I, of
course, cannot escape,” replied the young
| man,
“And what next/” once more asked
the gentleman ; but the young man had
j no answer to make—he bad no purposes
that reached beyond the present life !
llow many young men are in precise
ly the same condition ! Their plans em
brace only this life—what pertains to
the world to come has no plaee in all
tlieir plans,— Traveler.
* Corn Meal,’ ~ -’ - - - OO ctslmsb.
yr The highest eash prices paid forOornami
‘Wheat. D. A. IVIW.
City Mill, June 16, 1853. 20 tf^
Billiard Table lor Sale.
ONE of WIN A NTS splendid MAKBLS BED
BILLIARD TABLES, with fixtures complete,
for sale low, by
F.. E. BROWN, Macon, <'h,
1 Columbus, Feb. 8.
FOR SALE AT THIS^JCJL^
SUCH a. CA. SA. BONDS, aI-ABAMA^P^