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AMfIUUCAM UMOißlf, The most perfect Government Would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least —t'osts least — Dispenses Justice to all, and confers Privileges on None. —BENTHAM. VOL. I.{ DR. WM. GREEN-EDITOR. .VUERICAN DEMOCRAT, PUBLISHED WEEKLY, IN THE REAR OF J. BARNES’ BOOKSTORE. COTTON AVENUE. MACON. GA. AT TWO DOLL AIKS FJHR ANNUM, 03~ IN ADVANCE -03 Rates of Advertising, Ac, On»squate>of 100 wards, or lea”, in small type, 75 cents tor the first insertion, and 50 cents for each subsequent inset t'op. All Advertisements containing more than 100 and lees titan 200 words, will be charged as two squares. To Yearly Advertisers, a liberal deduction will be made to- N B Sales of LAND, by Administrators, Executore Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hour3 of 10 in the fore noon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court Ilnuse in the Coun ,y in which the property is rituated. Notice of these must he given in a public Gaxctte, SIXTY DAYS, previous to the day of sale Sales of TERSONAI. PROPERTY, must be advertised in the same manner, FORTY DAYS previous to the day ol sale- Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must be pub tsh*d FORTY Days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordi tary, for leave to sell LAND, must be published FOUR MONTHS Biles of NEGROES, must be made at public auction, on ( he first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours o’ tale, at the place of public sales in the county where the let „ers testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, shall hive been granted, SIXTY DAYS notice being previously given in one of the public gatettea of this State, and at the door of the Con it House, where such sales are to be held. Notice sot leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for P OUR MONTHS, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. All business of this nature, wiU receive prompt attention, a the Office of the AMERICAN DEMOCRAT REMITTANCES BY MAIL.—“A Postmaster may en c !ose money in a letter to the publisher of a newspaper, to [ t - the subscription of a third perron and stank the letter, if written Ity himself." --Amot Kendall, P. M. U. COMMUNICATIONS addressed to the Editor Tost Fain. NOTICE. ,T |tlJE undersigned have associated them I sclv b in the practice ot’ the law, and dig ive prompt attention to such business us may he intuited to their circ. They »il attend the following Courts: Bibb, Ciawibrd, Monroe, Twiggs, Jones, Wilkinson, H’u-ffon, Pulaski, Henry, and Pike. A. P. POWERS, 1,. N. WHITTLE. M iron, April 17, 1314. 48—tl Office over E B- Weed’s store, two doors below Win. B. Johnston. Can I Flour, foiosheii Butter A Cheese, OF superior quality, jurt rcrriurJ and ft>r sale by C. A. ELLS. A prtl 24 -49 -ts. SANDS’ SARSAPmO IITHIS invaluable Medicine, to much cal- Jl Idefor of late, if now to be had at the proprietor’s prices, at GEOROE PAYNE’S DRUG STORE—who is Agent for the same. ►_ April 10, 1841. 4T—tf Administrator’» Snip. AGREEABLY to an order From the Honorable Inferior Court of Macon roun , y. when sitting for Ordinary purpose s, will bo sold before the Court House door, in the Town of Lanier, M icon county, on the first *1 u (i sday In JULY next, the North half of Lot of Land, number twenty nine, and Lot number thirty in the fifteenth Dist. of originally Houston now Mncrtn eotfnty. Sold as the pr .prrty of Elias Jouidnin, late of said county deceased. Soil for the benefit of the heirs and creditors of said deceased. Terms of Sale made known on the day THOS. T. JOHNSON. Adm’r. April 10, 1814. Home Horae' there’s mu:;ic in the name More sweet than the jEolian harp’* soft strain, Theling'ring sound falls from the tongoo Like a note from an angel's lyre rung Home ! *t is a sound of sweet melody ’ T is a chain that binds all hearts; Thro’thc blight «|X>tsofearth you may wan'er&roam, The brightest, the greenest, will ever be home Gweet spot! fond memory loves to retrace Each step of youth in that rime-honored place, 'The gush of the streamlet so silvery and clear, And the waterfall’s murmur 1 still seem to hear The shade of the wide spreading oaks where 1 played, The gloom of forest where often I strayed, The green grassy banks of the clear crytal brook, Where trout f ensnared with a treacherous hook The hum of the hive, tire labor and tod Os the bees that returned heavy laden'd with spoil I rememher them all asthings of to-day, Tho' years, long years have since pass’d away. With fancy’s soft pencil I still can rrtrai o Each feature ami line of mv mother s sweet face, ! .till ran remember the. look of fend joy, That lit up her face as she gated on hci boy. Ah 1 aieumd that warm hearth, so cheerful hefote, That once happv group shall cluster no more; No more now shall smile that grav-hradeh sire, No more now shall glow that once sparking fire! The mother no more with smiles and joy Shall wrfc-.ome home her darling hoy; fbe wifcl wmd of heaven now mournfully raves, And the wrath of the icmpra burst ocr their grace.-, Rut tho' all now are laid in the rold, -ilcnt tomb, Vet dcir to mv heart u mv infancy's' home; Tho' no sin - ! parent’s voice wcleonße* back to the spot Y-t 'he scene* «f my childhood •'•IH u*'ei be frip-t DEMOCRATIC BANNER. FREE TRADE; DOW DUTIES; NO DEBT; SEPARATION FROM BANKS; ECONOMY; RETRENCHMENT; AND A S'VRXGT ADHERENCE TO THE CONSTITUTION.— J. C. CALHOVJT. MISCELLANY. The Old Cloak. BY MRS. B——. “Pray, Mr. Norton,” exclaimed a live ly lady to a fashionably dressed, hand some young man, who was standing be side her, at an evening party, “pray, do yon intend to remain an old bachelor all your days ? Since your return from Eu rope, 1 have been continually expecting to hear of your marriage, but here you have been, two years, and yon are still, to all appearance, ‘in statu quo,’ as the lawyers say.” “My dear Mrs. Hinfon,” replied the young gentleman with a smile, “I will be frank, and tell you the real reason of my remaining a general admirer of the sex, instead of confining my attentions to any one, ‘bright particular star,’ however much I may be dazzled by its brilliancy. 1 am actually afraid to marry !” “Afraid!” echoed the lady, opening her dark eyes to their widest extent with astonishment. ‘ 1 ‘Faint heart never won,’ you know. Are you.afraid to pro pose !” “No, madam, afraid to marry. You will laugh at me, I dare say, when I tell you that my seat in church has a great deal to do with my solitary state, which seems so much to excite your surprise.” “Why, yes,” replied Mrs. Hinton, “one is always surprised when n young man who—without meaning to flatter you is certainly a favorite in society, (here Mr. Norton made her a polite bow,) and who has an independent fortune, still re trains from choosing one of the many fair damsels whom lie meets, to superintend his establishment. But what influence your seat in church can have upon the matter, 1 am at a loss to imagine.” “You must know, then, that 1 sit just behind Miss La Modes, in f)r. Righthead’s church, and the sight of her velvet cloak absolutely frightens me from the thought of marrying a wife who may some day say to me, ‘My dear, I am dying for a new velvet cloak; please to give me two ot three hundred dollars, and I will go to ’s and buy one.’ How I should shudder to hear such a request.” “Really, Mr. Norton, this is too absurd for yon, with your fortune, to talk in such a manner. 1 shall begin to think you a miser. Your wife might dress as extra vagantly as she chose, and it would not injure yon. And surely you do not ob ject to a lady’s wearing a velvet cloak? “I do not object to any thing that is consistent, but I cannot help thinking splendid velvet, such as Queen Victoria herself might be satisfied with, for a cor onation robe, sadly out of place when it is made into a cloak, to be worn on al most all occasions; particularly when it is well known that Miss La mode’s fath er does not even pay his baker or butch er. If I were one of his poor creditors, I should be tempted to take the cloak from the young lady, in the street, and sell it for what it would bring.” Mrs. Hinton sat silent at this speech. Her conscience reproached Iter, for she knew that she had, on that day, purcha sed an elegant new mantle,although her husband had requested her to be as econ omical as possible in her expenditures, as he found it difficult, in those trying times, to meet all the demands made up on his purse. She was a woman, how : ever, of generous feelings* as yet unhard ened by resisting good impulses, and she secretly resolved to take back the mantle the next day, and prevail upon the shop man to receive it, since it was not yet paid for. All this passed through her mind with the rapidity of lightning, and »he turned round with a smile to address when an over dressed young lady, who had been sitting, an interested listener in the conversation, interposed. “If Mr. Norton wants an economical wife,” she said, I would recommend him to offer himself to Emily Harwood. I think she will suit him exactly, for she has worn an old cloak all winter, with no alteration—one that she has had two years, at leart, to my knowledge.” Mr. Norton looked at the speaker, and the unamiitblc expression of her conn tenance sunk her in his estimation for ever, although he had hitherto regarded her as very pretty and interesting, and had sometimes even thought it almost possible to love Caroline Howard well enonght to marry her, if he could only hope to cure her of the passion for dress which she displayed. But this remark sealed her fate, as far as he was concern ed, and turning to Hr Hinton, he asked: “Who is Emily Harwood ? Are you acquainted with her? I should really like to be introduced to a young lady who has moral courage enough to wear an unfashionable garment, alter having worn it already two winters; she must possess a more than common character.” “I will introduce you with pleasure,” said Mrs Hinton. “She is a sweet girl and a great favorite of mine. I confess I have myself been surprised at the plain ness of her dress, this winter, for her fa ther is considered wealthy, and she is the only one of his daughters of an age to go into society. That is she, in the sHtiplc white frock, and that is hci mother, by herride.” Mr. Norton was charmed to perceive 'hdtitwasa voting iadv who, by hci MACON, WEDNESDAY, MAY 8, 1814. singularly modest and unpretending ap pearance, had attracted his attention in the early part of the evening. He had intended to inquire her name, kit lost sight of her in the crowd, and supposed that she had retired. She received him with an easy, graceful air, and after a few moments passed into conversation, he thought her positively beautiful, so intelligent was the expression of her dark blue eyes, audsobeammg the smile with which she listened to his lively re marks. lie was also very much pleased with Mrs. Harwood, who did not leave to her daughter the whole burden of the conversation, as some mothers are apt to do, contenting themselves with being mere spectators. When Mr. Norton laid his head upon the pillow, that night, it was long before he could compose his mind to sleep, so much was he disturbed by the vision of a pair of blue #yes which danced before him, not to mention dark ringlets and old cloaks, which mingled together and had at last found the object he had been so long seeking, and resolving that lie would call the next dayat Mr. Harwood’s at last resigned himself to repose. The next morning, Mrs. Hinton, in pursuance of the wise resolution she had made, attired herself to gi out, .and was waiting in the parlor for her carriage.— The beautiful mantle lay on the sofa by her side, and she was examining it, and making up her mind that after all, she could do without it, and tfshe could,that she ought to. At this moment, Carol me Howard, who was an intimate friend, en tered. “Are you going out so early ?” she ex claimed, on seeing Mrs. Hinton ready dressed. “I came in the hope of seeing you at this hour, for I wished to tell you that had some of the loveliest mantles you ever saw. I was there yes terday, and looked at them. They were just opened, and the clerk assured me that they were the only ones imported, and there are but a dozen altogether. I was afraid they would all be sold, yet I did not dare to buy, and before asking my mother’s permission; for father made such a fuss last week about my buying this splendid silk, without consulting him, that mother forbade my doing it again. I have been all the morning tcazing her to let me have on«, and have at last succeeded. So you must positive ly come and choose one too. But I de clare,” she continued, “you have one al ready,” as her eyes fell upon the sofa, for she had talked so volubly that she had not even paused to look round her. “But you will come with me. will you not ?” Mrs. Hinton replied gravely—“l am going to return this mantle, and I would advise you, my dear Caroline, if you had to tcaze your mother for leave to buy one, to deny yourself, and gratify her by informing her that you have resolved to do without it. Fifty dollars is a great deal to spend, husband told me this morn ing that he was afraid he should be ob liged to give up his carriage and horses, his business is so much less profitable than formerly. Now, you know it is absolutely necessary for his health that he should ride a great deal, and I resolv ed to spend as little as possible, that he might be able to enjoy his carriage.” Caroline sat without speaking until Mrs. Ilinton had concluded, when she said, pettishly— “But you are married, and it does not make so much difference to you how you dress* just sec how kcOtiting this is.” And she turned from the glass, at which she had been arranging the man tle in graceful folds over her well shap ed figure, and Mrs. Hirtlon Could not help acknowledging that it was very k coming indeed. Nevertheless, she still attempted to persttade her young friend to forego the purchase, for she knew that Caroline’s father was very much involv ed in debt, and it was feared every day he would stop payment; although, as it appeared, like many other gentlemen who keep the state of their affairs a secret from those most interested in the truth, his wife and daughter were Utterly igno rant of the circumstance. But she found her arguments of no effect Indeed Car oline endeavored to persuade Mrs. Hin ton krsclf to retain the vclvelt she was about to carry back. But she had too much strength of inind to be led away by her vanity, when she knew that her decision was right, although she could not repress a womanish feeling of regret at the thought of resigning so becoming an article of apparel. Mrs. Hwton was so much grieved and shocked at the selfishness of her young friend, that she thought she could irever again feel toward her the same affection she had hitherto experienced. She made her confess that the fifty dollars her mo therhad given her, with which to pur chase the wished for mantle, was a sum that had been appropriated to a younger sister, that sire might take lessons m drawing, an art of which she was pa; inn ately fond, and for which she had a de cided gemous. She could not forbeai hinting to Caroline that a time might come when the talents of her sister would be put in requisition for mere important purpo. es than those of mere amusement, 1 but her pernunnu: were lest upon «hc mind of the thoughtless and selfish trirl, and she saw her depart, with pain, to ful fil her intention. Mrs. Hinton found no dfficulty in re turning the mantle, and after 6hc had left the store she wondered how she could have been so foolish as to suffer a mo ment’s uneasiness on such a trifling sub ject. The words of Mr. Norton had made a deep impression upon her, and as she looked at the multitude of poor houseless wretches, who throng Broad way, begging for charity, she felt how sinful it was to waste in extravagance that which would bring comfort and happiness to so many hearts. When her husband returned to dinner, she, like a true-hearted wife, made a confession to him of her folly of the day before, her re pentance, and the purpose for which she had just .visited . Mr. Hinton was a man of sense and intelligence. — He had often deplored his wife’s fondness for display, but she was so young when he married her, and had been so petted from her childhood by a fond mother, and was withal so lovely and interesting, that he cmtld not find it iri his heart to deny her any gratification, trusting that asshegrew older her tastes would change, lie did not know that the passion for dress is one which increases with indul gence, like all other bad habits, and is the hardest to overcome ift the female heart, particularly, as Was the case with Mrs. Ilinton, where there are no children to occupy the time and attention. 8H delighted was he with the ingeniousness of her confession, that he presented her with a sum of money for charitable pur poses, telling her that be had that day recovered a bad debt which he had long since despared of, and consequently no longer entertained the fears which he had mentioned to her in the morning. I*et us return to Mr, Norton. He could not avoid anticipating the calling hour a little, so impatient was he to meet again the object that had so much fascin ated him the night before. As he enter ed the hall, he heard the sound of music and king shown into the drawing room, found the fair Emily evidently giving lessons on the piano to a little sister. Al though attired in a simple morning dress she did not appear less lovely than his memory had pictured, and the bright blush which Ins unexpected appearance called tip, made her not less interesting in his eyes. She dismissed the little girl with a message to her mother, who soon appeared and received him kindly. As he glanced around and observed the air of elegance, though not of display, that pervaded the establishment, he could not help recalling Miss Harwood’s words a bout the old cloak, and his curiosity was excited to know what could be her reason for tvearirig a garment unfashionable enough to attract observation. After making as lortg a call as he dared, upon first acquaintance, he tbok leave, not without being invited by Mrs. Harwood to call agaifi an invitation to w hich he cordially responded, Not many days after, ns Mr. Norton w;ls walkifig in Broadway, he met Miss Harwood, and joined her immediately. He had walked for some time without at all observing her dress, when Miss La Mode suddenly emerged from a shop, and passed on be fore them, arrayed in her superb velvet cloak, with feathers, etc., in the height of fashion. The conversation at the par ty instantly recurred to his thoughts, and he glanced at the cloak of his companion. It wds of plain dark merino, and had ev idently been much worn, though every thing about her was so scrupulously neat, and her simple white hat so becom ing to her fresh complexion, thalshe was infinitely more attractive to an intelligent man, than the dashing Mis* La Mode.— To test her feelings, he remarked, care lessly' “That is a beautiful cloak Os Miss La Mode’s.” No blush appeared on her cheek, as she quietly replied, “It is in lend very beautiful.” Mr. Norton could not help seeing how superior was this con duct to that of some young ladies, who betray an uneasy fccltng of consciousness when they hear praises of another’s ap pearance, which they knew to lie more brilliant than their own. He continued to visit at Mr. Harwood's and was kindly received; but he was not one to decide too hastily on a subject of such vast importance, as he felt the cha racter of his companion for life to be. It chanced, at length that he had a corn mission from an aunt in (lie country, for some millinery, and although entirely unused to make such purchases he re nted to the most fashionable establish ment of the kind, for the first time to ex ercise his taste in that department. The imlliner took him belittl'd a curtain which separated the two rooms, til order to sliow him some very rechcrchc articles, and requesting him to take a seat upon a sofa, left him to search for the important box which contained the treasures. He was beginning to grow impatient, when a sweet well known voice sent a thrill thro his heart. It was Emily Harwood’s voice, apparently conversing with anoth er young ladv, so close to the curtain that he could not avoid hearing every word. He was abont.to dart forward and address them, when the word:, ‘old cloak [fell upon his ear. “Now,” he thought, j perhaps 1 hall find the solution of the mv.tei v ‘No ' and Emily, ’I ” ill net buy such a gay hat ns this. It would not suit at all with my old cloak.” “Do, for pity’s sake, my dealt family,” exclai med her companion, “tfcll me why you have worn that same old Cloak this win ter. 1 believe it is the third winter yott have had it. \Vc have all wondered why yott did not get anew one, and that spiteful Caroline, Howard has talked about it at every party this stasrttl. “I am very sorry,” replied Emily, laughing, “that Miss Howard has been at such a loss for subjects of conversation* as to find nothing more interesting than my poor cloak. However I will tell you my motive fo'r wenrtftg it, and 1 am sure, dear Helen, that yoti will approve of it. But first promise me that you will tell no otic else. 1 should not think of explain ing it to any but you.” Here Mr. Norton almost resolved to show himself. He felt it a breath of honor to hear what was evidently a se crct; but this interest in the fair Emily was so strong, that he excused himself on that plea, and remained silent. Hel en made the required promise and Emily proceeded;— “You remember hearing of the death of my uncle Murray, laststimmer. lie had failed just before, so that his family were left tjuite destitute. Catharine, the eldest daughter, has ken at Mrs. Will ard’s school for the last year, and she was very desirous of remaining another term, after which Mrs. Willard would engage her as a teacher. She considers her one of her finest scholars. Btit it was not for her mother to continue such an expense, and my father said he could not offer to db it unless wc would make some re trenchment in our domttstic affairs.— Therefore I offered to wear my old cloak another season, and to give little Julia music lessons, instead of her having a teacher. Now do yoti think that a suf ficient motive ! I assure yoti I have felt more pleasure this winter, in wearing that old cloak, than I should have done in -possessing crile even more splendid than Miss La Mode’s, ibr now my poor cousin will be able to sttppost herself and assist her mother in educating her broth ers fffid sisters.” “That is just like yourself, Emily,” exclaimed her friend, enthusiastically.— “I drily wish I could tell of it. How ashamed Caroline Howard Would kof till her ill natfired speeches ?” It is needless to say that tltCfe was another auditor who shared in the ad miration of Helen* Mr. Norton was so delighted with the simple tecital of Emi ly, that he Idnged to clasp her to his heart, and tell her that his happiness de pended on her alone. He saw the young ladies take their departfire, and in a few moments after hastened away, forgetting his aunt and all her commissions, and leaving the milliner lost in astonishment at this abrupt departure. He reached Mr. Harwood’s almost as soon as Emily herself, and astonished her by a Warm declaration Os his feelings. She did not bid him despair, and it was soon after announced that Mr. Norton and Emily Harwood were engaged, mueh to the as tonishment ol Miss La Mode and Caro line Howard, who could not understand why she was preferred to themselves. Mrs. Ilinton was delighted with Mr. Nortofi’s choice, and predicted that he would have a pattern wife. She never forgot her good resolutions, but her pCr sr* ions were lost on her former friend, Caroline, who was, however, soon forced, by the failure of her father, to renounce her extravagant habits. We must do Mr* Norton the justice to say that he had the Candor to confess to his wife, soon after marriage, the menfis by which he obtained a knowledge of her motives for wearing the old cloak, which was ever after preserved as a precious relic. I can assure my readers that she did not blame severely and should this tale ever meet their eyes, 1 trffst that they will kth pardon the use 1 have made of the incidents related to n tie. The I.«*t Hay of Eve. U approached the everting twilight.— The mother of mankind was placed by her descendants in front of her tent, re clining on a rude cortch. The western wind fanned her pale cheek, and played amidst her gray locks. Near her sat her husband. Eve turned her eyC upon him with a look of sadness yet of deep affection, and his head of snowy white ness seemed to call to mind other days. Inwardly she reproached herself.— “ Ah, not thus was it t saw firm, when first given to him by our God. Where ha;; vanished that manly form—where is the elastic step where tire eye that ka med with brightness- where rtow the rich and mellow voice ? Alas, how changed! And it was I who templed, who destroyed him—l the. wife—-the cherished companion— ! bade him eat, and now what is he, who, but for me, hod known neither pain, nor sorrow, nor age. “And what remains of her on whose beauty he then gazed with tirtsatiated de light?—A trembling, wrinkled form, just sinking into the grave. “ Where is now that paradise, with its rich fruits— that bn’my air which brought en everv bre ith a tribute each happy .ruse these ravs o.huh ’'.armed, bet JNO. ftl. never scorched ? And sadder, sadder still, where Uotv is ifiHt blissful inter course with Him, who made t» rich in the happiness of living ? His voice is no longer in our ears- driven fr«n Miss ftotti scenes so lovely- the earth ertfsed —siri, sorrow, afid death the inheritance of our Children.” Our mother was overcome by the rUsh of recollections. Her eyes, lotig dry, fotmd new fountains, and her aged form shook with deep emotion. It may k that Adam had ken indul gmg in musifigs not Unlike <0 these, for he was startled as if from a reverie by the emotions of hh wife. The old man pi*, ced himself kside her. She laid her head on the bosom which had so often soothed its throbbings. “ What moves thee, Eve ?” “Oh, my husband, how caiist thofi show kindness to hes who has dofie all this ? Thon Wast yofing, and knew on ly happiness, and all around was formed to delight our every sense; and I should have strengthened thy virtue, but felf and dragged thee with me, the partner of my sin, to this depth of ruin. And after a few years of toil and anxiety, we are about to lay these Womout frames in the ddst. “ But for sill wc had lived in perpetual youth, and feared no change. The threatened death has worked slowly but surely, aud now with us his work is near ly done. “ The first to sin, it was meet that I should return to dust. Had the guilt and the curse been only mine, I mmht endure it. But I see thee now, nnc? I compare thee with what thou wast as it seems to me but yesterday. “ A few days will lay thee low. Let our children place us side by side in the cold earth. I know not why it is, yet it seems to me there will k comfort in our bodies dissolving together, as if there were something conscious in the lifeless dust. “.Little of comfort as is now left in life, yet I cannot endure the thought that I shall utterly cease to k ! “ Adam, thou hast often given me words of consolation. Is there aught can cheer me, now I am to bid thee fare well? Thou seest yonder snh—thou wilt again see him rise and set—he is bidding me a last adieu. Sense shall soon cease forever, and no light shall again enter these eyes.” The old man wiped the tears which fell on the Wrinkled brow of his partner* A stiaden light Was on his countenance, as if anew lamp had been lit up in his soul* Eve saw it, and it brought to her a gleam of hope; she gazed on his fcwe as if death had lent new powers to her faded visiott* “ First of women,” said Adam, “ claim no preeminence in guilt—together we sinned, together we have borne the pun ishment* “ But there is redemption—there is http©- “ Whilst thinking of the fearful change which ktokens to my heart that its part ner was about to be taken away, a hea venly light kamed on my thoughts, and taiight me to understand the visions which have so often visited me on my couch* M We shall not die—there is a costly ransom provided— we must sleep under the cold earth, but we shall rise again in the freshness of that youth which we first enjoyed; and pfirifled from all sin, we shall walk in our Eden seven times more bemnilul than when we first roved amidst the frtiits and flowers. And there will be the thousands who, inheriting our evil natures, will have found a powerful phy sician, whose presence shall wake ten thousand harps to melody. 11 This earth, too, so long, so grievous ly Cursed for our sin, will come forthpU rifird from every stain and itt mote than the knuty of its pristine youth. “Thou wilt go a little kfore me to the grave ; but We shall rise together wtth the glad shout of gratified jubilation; and with us millions on millions of our posterity rartsomed from the curse.” Adam natfsed—bls cfc fell ori the face of his wife—a smile seemed to play in the brightness of hope on her pale Itp t but (he heart had ceased to beat, and that sleep had fallen on her which the trump of the arch angel only shall disturb. ou tromcri. Say What you will, Wc respect and love old women. Th r-s mit next door neighbor, who must k nearly three score years of age, .Hid never idle. At morn ing’s dawn she is tip and busy, and nev er retires until she has accomplished her work. When a neighbor is sick, she is always ready to sooth, by her little kind riessses and manifests as much interest in his or her welfare, as if a near relative. When the wind howls, she feels for and* pities the poor sailor. Where a cold north easier approaches she pememkrs the poor. Inline, she is always doing, good as tar as hei meiK will allow.— Blessings on the old women. They can not k dispensed with, May they all live in pence aud happiness, and when tbeii «voik is accomplished, die in com posure, to receive the welcome p’andit— ! W* !’■ dcn° gecd aud faithful sc rvants ” Portland Tribune.