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BOrGHTOX & NISBET
editors.
BUUGllTON. N IS BET AND BARNES,
Proprietors i»D Publishers.
1EK.U 8 •
Cljc ipctmral Onion
Is published weekly, in the Darien Bank
Buildina; al TWO DOLLARS per Annum, pay-
able in advance, TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY
CENTS if not paid within three months, and Three
Dollars ir not paid before U.e end of die year.
No subscript' 00 will be received for less than
\ r „„ r will anv paper6e discontinued until
luTrr'earafCS are paid.
j. (i . P T,,-r will not be sen! to any person outoi
|)ie !staie, until the subscription money is paid in
adva'nre. or satisfactory reference given.
\,v enrisKstENTs conspicuously inserted atihe
ii^imI rates. Those sent without a specification of
• i,, ; number of insertions, will be published until
ordered out, and charged accordingly.
sales of land and negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be
held on the First Tuesday iu the month between
ihe hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the
afternoon, at tile Court-House in the County in
which the property is situated.
Notice ofthese sales must be given in a public
gazette forty days previous to the day of sale.
Notices for the sale of personal property must
he given in like manner, forty days previous to
the day of sale.
Notices to the debtors and creditors of anestate
must also he published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Negroes,
most be published for tree months.
Citations for letters of Administration, must be
published thirty nays—for dismission from Ad
ministration, monthly sir months—for dismissionfrom
Guardianship, forty days.
IJi’i.es for foreclosure of mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months—for establishing lost
papers, for the full space of three months—for com
pelling titles from Executors or Administrators,
vhere bond has been given by the deceased, the
v ll space of three mouths.
Publications will always be continued according
to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
All business of this kind will receive promptat
tention at the Federal Union Office.
Letters on business must he post paid to en
title them to attention.
BUSINESS CARDS.
FRANCIS r. STUBBS,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law.
MONROE, LA.
Tune 15, 1852. ~—ly
KABIIN A W III T E HE A D,
COMMISSL()N MERCHANTS,
s.-i vanna ii. a e una ia ,
11 LENDER their services to the patrons and friends
JL of the late firm of Rabun. Fulton &. Co ., in ihe
sale of Cotton and other produce. Ordeis for Bag-
gins. Rope and oilier family supplies will he prompt
ly filled at the lowest prices.
Their long experience in business induces them to
hope for a continuance of the liberal patronage ex
tended to the late firm.
Savannah, June 1, 1852. 52—Gin
CHAS. G. CAMPBELL?
AUoyyacn at luaw,
~MILLEDGEVILLE, GEO.
CJjicc in the Darien Bank Building, next
door to the Federal l nion office
moil
VOL. XXIII.]
.1IIEEEDGEYIEEE GEORGIA, SEPTEMBER II, 1851.
If*. 16.
WASHBURN, WILDER &CO.
FACTORS
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
SAVANNAH, GA.
I
Jos. Washburn.
Jno. K. Y\ iLotrt,
Fhas. G. Dana. ^
Will continue the above business at 114 Bay
Street, east of the Exchange
Orders for Banning, Rope, and other Supplies,
filled promptly atlowest Cash prices.
Refer to
Major Win. Sanford, )
Gen. S. P. My rick, ( Baldwin Co.
Al. Dennis. )
S. B. Marshall. - Putnam Co.
Messrs Carter & Harvey, )
A McAllum, ?
Ira Peck. ( Twiggs Co.
Messrs. Black & Cobb. )
“ Sloan &, Hawkins, J Rome.
Alajor John S. Rowland, Cass Co.
August. 1852. 10—6m
LAITIBETII HOPKINS,
1IM«E-ttO USE
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANT,
AUGUSTA, GA.
?T*hf. undersigned begs leave to return
JL thanks to the patrons of the late firm of
Adams. Hopkins & Co., for Iheir liberal sup
port in past years. The firm of Adams,
Hopkins & Co., having been dissolved by®M
limitation on the IstJuiv la-t. the \VARE-J**3s
HOUSE AND COMMISSION BUSINESS, (at
the same stand, in the city of Augusta) will be con
tinued by the undersigned, and he tenders his ser
vices to the customers of the old firm and the public.
His personal attention will be given to business con
fided to his care.
Particular attention paid to the storage and sale of
Cotton, and all other Produce, receiving and for
warding Goods, and purchase of Planters’ supplies.
0CPCash Advances made on produce in store
when required. LAMBETH HOPKINS.
Aug 21 1852. 12—4m.
MISCELLANEOUS.
March 2rlh, 185;
43—tf
PLANTERS’ WAREHOUSE.
G. WALKER A: SOX,
Warehouse & Commission Merchants,
JACKSON STB EE T,
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA.
At the Large Nett*Fire Proof Warehouse
formerly occupied htj Walker, Bryson Sf Co.
September 23. 1851. 16 ly
W. I>. ETHERIDGE ft Co.
FACTORS
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
^SAVANNAH, Ga.
S.F. Gove, W. D. Ethridge.
Savannah. April 15. 1651. 45
FIRE PROOF WARE-HOUSE-
THE undersigned having associated Mr.
4^ I Ovid G. Sparks with him in business—
aj continues to transact the
" Warehouse and Commission Business.
Under ihe name and style of HARDEMAN A j
SPARKS. Their undivided attention will he given !
to all business committed to their charge. The long |
experience of the undersigned as a cotton seller, ad- j
ded to his desire to please as well as to faithfully serve
those who may Patronize the new firm gives to him l
die hope that the liberal patronage heretofore given to
Hardeman & Hamilton, will be continued to Har- |
deman 5f Sparks. They will risk nothing, either in
purchasing or by advancing on Cotton, as they have
determined to confine themselves to business with
Planters, and to them liberal advances will he made
on Cotton in store. Family Supplies with Bagging
and Hope, will he furnished nurlriends at the lowest
Macon prices THUS. HARDEMAN.
August 17, 1652, if—ly.
ici.-j:
JOHN M. REINHART,
RESPECTFULLY tenders iiis acknowl
edgements to the Gentlemen of this city
and vicinity, for their liberal patronage, and
solicits a continuation of the same. He has
now on hand a supply of excellent Mate
rial, and can accommodate Customers at
the shortest notice. His BOOTS are
.Manufactured after the latest and most
approved .style, and of the very best
materials. Repairing, executed with neatness and
despatch. The public are solicited to give him a call.
Terms liberal. (Shop next door to C. //. Wright's
Grocery Store.)
Milledgeville. August 10,185*2. 10—tf
Wholesale CVoWuug House,
No. 143, Fast Buy Street Corner of Queen,
CIIARLE8TOK, S. C.
MERCHANTS wishing lo purchase
Full a»«l Winter Clothing
are invited to Call and look through the assortment
offered by this
OLD ESTABLISHED HOUSE,
tbpy will find an extensive and desirable Stock to
select from at LOW 7 PRICES.
WM. MATTH1 ESSEN.
Charleston, August 19, 1852. I'Z 8t
EXCELSIOR
BUILDING HARDWARE
AND
TOOL STORE EXCLUSIVELY.
The Largest and only Establishment of the
kind m the United States,
WM. M- M’CLURE & BKO.,
No. 287 Market Street above 1th,
PHILADELPHIA.
M ANUFACTURERS’ Depot for LOCKS of
all kinds, icarruntcd quality; premium procelian
KNOBS, over 60 patterns; silver plated HINGES,
&c.. with the in >st complete assortment of all the
Modern Patents in this line.
BUILDERS «fc DEALERS are invited to call
and examine our Stock.
Catalogues sent by Mail if directed.
Hot Air REGISTERS and VENTILATORS, at
FACTORY PRICES.
Philadelphia March 16, 1652. 42 ly
Sale of Citv Lots in Dalton
* i
RARE CHANCE FOR
MECHANICS AND CAPITALISTS ! j
A number of valuable city lots will be offered fo r j
sale, at public auction, in Dalton, on the second Tues
day in October neit.
TERMS ten percent cash, the balance in six years,
payable in equal annual instalments with interest.
ALSO, for sale, or lea-e. a large and valuable, j
ST35AH gAW=HE3L2Ls
of 05 horse-power, with room to connect therewith
a Flour or Grist mill.
ALSO, an excellent farm, known as “Cox’s
Fa, m.” 640 acres, with about 80 acres cleared, and
very rich land, on Mill Creek, with a large spring of ;
excellent water, and, an extensive orchard. This ;
farm adjoins the city of Dalton, with tha VV&A. R.
K. running through it.
Meantime, Purchases can he made, at private sale, j
on favoi.ibJe terms, by applying to Ben. E. Green, j
Esq . at Dalton, until the first of August, or after that
time, ’ Washington City, until the first of October ;
sl«>, bv applying to Gustavos Heerlein, at DaltoD,
who will show the properly.
The city of Dalton is advantageously located at the ;
intersection of the East Tennessee and Georgia Rail ]
Road with the Western and Atlantic Rail Road, or
“Suite Road,” and from its position must rapidly
improve BEN. E. GREEN,
Washington, D. C., or D-alion, Georgia.
July 8, 185 J.6—tds
NOTICE.
rplIE undersigned would respectfully announce to
the citizens of Baldwin and adj •cent counties, !
to il he is now located in MUltdgtviUc, where he will j
he happy to receive all orders for
IIOESE PAINTING A X D
PLASTERING.
U. BRYANT.
Milledgeville, April 13, 1852. 45—tf
MEDICAL COLLEGE OF THE STATE OF
SOLTII CAROLINA.
QpjlHE Annual Course of Lectures in this Institn-
J, lion commences on the first Monday in No
vember, on the following branches :
Ana'omy, by J. E. HOLBROOK M. D.
S urgery, by E. GEDDINGS, M D.
Institutes and Practice, bv G S 11 DICKSON, M. D.
Physiology, by JAMES MOULTRIE, M. D.
Materia Medica. bv HENRY’ R. FROST. M. D.
Obstetrics.by THOMAS G. PRIOLKAU, M. D.
Chemistry, by C. U. SHEPARD. M I)
Comparative Anatomy, by L. AGASSIZ. M. D.
Demonstrator of Anatomy ST. JULIAN RAY’ENF.L
M. D.
Assistant Demonstrator. F. T. MILES. M. D.
Prosectortn the Professor of Surgery, J F. M. GED
DINGS, M. D.
CLINICAL INSTRUCTION. ,
D. J. CAIN. M. D., Physician to the Marine
Hospital and Clinical Instructor, lectures twice a
week on tlie diseases of that Institution
J. FORD PKIOLEAU, M. D . Physician to the
Hospital of the Alms House, at which lectures are
delivered twice a week on Diseases, the diagnosis
discriminated, and the student indoctrinated in their
treatment.
Demonstrative Instruction in Medicine and Sur
gery. at die College Hospital, by the Professors ol the
Medical College.
Ata special meeting of the Trustees and Faculty
of die Medical College of the Slate of Soutii-Caroli-
na. held on the 3d day of January. 1852, Dr L.
AGASSIZ was unanimously elected Prolessor of
Comparative Anatomy, with the distinct understan
ding that the collegiate expenses of the student are
not to he increased by this addition to the course.
HENRY R. FROST, M. D., Dean.
Aug 24 12—Ot
lOO Piano Fortes.
T. GILBERT 8c CO’S
New York If are Rooms, f333 Broadway.)
Cor. of Anthony st. and opposite Broad
way Bank and Theatre,
W H ERE the largest assortment of Pianos with
and without die celebrated Improved ."Eolean,
may he found—all of which have the Metallic. Frame,
and are warranted to stand any climate and give entire
satisfaction, and will be sold at great bargains. By
an experience of eight years, resulting in many im
portant improvements, the /Eolean has been brought
to a perfection attained by no others. Nearly 2,000
/Eoleans have been applied, and the deniano is rap
idly increasing. Elegant Boudoir or Cottage Pianos
convenient for small rooms T G. &■ Co’s Pianos
are admitted to be superior to all others, owing to
their firmness and long standing in tune - Prices same
as at the Manufactory. Dealers supplied at liberal
discounts. E H. Wade’s and the entire Boston cat
alogue of Music and Instruction Books furnished at
this Store, at Wholesale.
HORACE WATERS, Sole Agent.
Constantly oil hand an extensive assortment of se
cond hand Pianos in Rosewood and Mahogany cases,
varying in prices from $30 lo $150. Second hand
.Eolean Pianos from $200 to $275—Grand Pianos
from $300 to $700. Prince & Co's Melodeons from
$35 to $90. Carhafts $55 to $90. Guitars from
$10 to $75, &c., Nc
August 31,1852. 13—lOt
Executor’s Sale.
Y r virtue of an order of the Court of Ordinary of ,
J Putnam County, will he sold at the Conrt house
Ealonlon. in said county, on the Frst Tuesday in !
QVKMBER next, thirteen liiuiilreri and
fly seven ecres, more or less, lying ou the
conee River in said county; belonging to the estate
'John H. Bass, deceased, and sold for the benefit .
'the heirs of said deceased. Terms on the day of
>L IIAMRI.IN R.VSS 1
HAMBLIN BASS,
N. BASS,
R. R. DeJAK
August 24, 1852.
JASS, )
>Ex’rs.
NLl'TE. S
13—id
Georgia Female College.
Legislative Charter granted in 1819
nMlIE Spring Session will commence on die 2nd
_L Monday, which is the 12lh day of January.
GEO. Y. BROiVN, President and Professor of)
Mental and Moral Science.
P. LOUD, Professor of Natural Science.
I. R. BRAND \M, Professor of Mathematics and
Director ot Music.
HENRY M. HOLTZCLAW, Professor of Belles ;
Letters. !
The faculty will be assisted by the following Ladies
viz: Mrs. Brown. Mrs Branham, Misses Bennett,
Bumstead. Meredith and I'.. Bennett.
Catalogues containing further information may be
obtained by applying to either of the officers of the
College, or to either of the following gentlemen, who
constitute tlie Board ofTrustees; E. E. Jones, M. D.
President; B. M. Peeples, Esq.. Treasurer; Thos.
Burney. Esq. Secretary;Col. J. B Walker, Rev. N.
G. Foster. Rev. C. M. Irwin, Wm. S. Stokes, F.d-
mund Walker, Zachariah Fears, Nathan Massey,
Wm W. A. Crawford, M. D.. Renj Harris, Jas. F.
Swanson. J. W. Fears, R P. Timmerman.
Madison, Morgan county, Ga. Dec. 3,1851—30tf
By the late Willis llayluril Clark.
If yon bright stars which gem the night,
Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,
Where kindred spirits re unite.
Whom death has torn asunder here,
How sweet it were at once to die—
To leave this blighted orb afar—
Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky,
And soar away lrnm star to star.
But, aid how dark, how drear, how lone,
Would seem the brightest world of bliss,
If, wandering through each radiant one,
Wefailed to find the loved of this!
If there no more the ties should twine,
Which death's told had alone can sever,
Ah! then those stars in mockery shine,
M ore hateful as they shine fur ever.
It cannot he!—each hope, each fear
That lights the eye or clouds the brow,
Proclaims there is a happier sphere
Thau this bleak world which holds us now!
There is a voice which sorrow hears.
When heaviest weighs life’s galling chain;
’Tis heaven that whispers “dry thy tear9—
The pure in heart shall meet again!”
THE SPIRITUAL NEGRO.
A gentleman from Pat is writes the
fo.lowing:—I saw through one of the win*
clows of the Mayor’s office, in the 12th ar-
rnndissemeut what seemed to be a body of a
negro hanging by the neck. At the first glance
and even at the second, I took it for a
human being, whom disappointed love, or
perhaps an expeditious jndge, had disposed
of so suddenly: hut 1 soon ascertained that
tlie ebony gentleman in question was only
a large doll as large as life. What to think I
did not know,so 1 asked the door-keeper the
meaning of it. ’’This is the centraband
museum,” was the answer; and on my
showing a curiosity to examine it, he was
kind enough to act as my cicerone. In a
huge, dirty room, aie scattered over the
floor, in the walls and along the ceiling, all
the inventions of roguery which having been
confiscated from time to time by those guar
dians of the law, the revenue officers. It
is a comeplete arsenal of the weapons of
smuggling all; unfortunately, in complete
confusion. Look before you: theie is a
hogshead dressed up as a nurse, with a
child that holds two quarts and a half. On
the other side are logs hollow as the Trojan
horse, and filled with armies of cigars. On
the floor lies a huge boa constrictor, gorged
with China silks; and just beyond it, a pile
of coal cutiously perforated with spools of
cotton. The coloied gentleman who
excited my sympathy at first, met with his
fate under the full wing circumstances:
He was built ofiin, painted black,a heyduck
or Ethiopian chasseur on the fooib , a rd of
a carriage, fastened by his feet and hands. ]
He had frequently passed through the ttates,
and was well known by sight to tlie sol
diers, who noticed he was always showing
his teeth, which they supposed to he the
custom of his country. One day the carriage
to which he belonged wasstoped by a crowd
at tlie gate. There was a grand chorus of
yells and oaths, the vocal part being
performed by the drivers and cartrnen, the
iusti umental by their whips. The negro
however, never spoke a word. His good
behavior delighted the soldiers, who held
him up as an example lo the crowd. ‘‘Look
at the black fellow,’’they said; “see how
well he behaves! Bravo, nigger, bravo!” He
showed a perfect indifference to their ap
plause. “My friend,” said a cierk at the
barrier, jumping upon the footboard and
slapping our sable friend on the shoulder,
“weare really much obliged to you” Oh,
surprise, the shoulder rattled. The officer
was bewildered; he sounded the foot
man all over, and found he was made
of metal, and as full as his skin would hold
of the very best contraband liquor drawn
from his foot. The juicy mortal was seized
at once, and carried away in triumph. The
first night the revenue people drank up his
shoulders, and he was soon bled to death .
It is now nearly six years since he lost al I
the moisture of his system, and was reduced
to a dry skeleton.
“7 cannot Swim."—This was the ago'
nizing ejaculation ofhundrads, as they let
themselves down into the water from the
Henry Clay.I cannot swim! What a terrible
thought to one onboard a burning vessel! |
We can imagine nothing more so 1 he
idea that you must sink down helpless,
hopeless, into the da:k sullen waters, and
have them close over you for ever is the
mo9t horrid of all conceivable things. How
different from one who leaps in perfect
confidence into the deep, sinks for a mo
ment beneath the surface, comes up, throws
tlie water from his locks, and strikes out
boldly for the shore. He laughs at danger,
and saves his life, amid the agony and terror
of hundreds, who sink to rise no more.
We do not know how we should have
acted or felt, had we been on board the
Henry Clay, but we can swim a dozen
times around her hull, as 6he Ires, and
do not believe we would have felt any
more danger of drowning than when, a
boy, we threw ourselves in sport from the
dock.
We cannot remember the time when we
could not swim, and we owe it to a mother
who was not afraid to have a child out of
the reach of her hand before he was of age.
We early learned self-dependence, and the
old Yankee maxim, ’’Take care of yourself,”
and these have availed us in many emergen
cies and dangers.
Every boy and girl should learn to swim.
It costs nothing, not even trouble, and is
worth more than all the Latin and music
ever learned. A good swimmer is not
likely to be frightened out of his senses,
and in ca.-es ofimminent danger his ser
vices are available in more ways th m one.
By all means learn to swim.—N. Y. Day
Book.
Hasty and Cool.—There is a story going
of a young man who was once invited to
dine with a getleman of lather sudden tem
per. The dining room was on the second
floor, and principal dish a fine roast fowl.
When the old genteman undertook to carve
it, he found the knife rather dull and in a
sudden passion, fluog’ it down stairs after
the servant who had brought it; whereupon
the young man seized the fow!, and with
admirable dexterity flung it after the knife.
“What on earth do you mean?” exclaimed
the old man, as soon as he could speak.
“1 beg your pardon,” was the cool reply,
“I thought you were going to dine down
stairs.”
’Tis strange,’ muttered a young man, as
he staggered home from a supper party,
‘how evil communications corrupt good man
ners. I’ve been surrounded by tumblers all
the evening, and now I’m a tumbler.
BULLS AND DOUBLE BASS.
The follow ing anecdote, from the New
Hampshire Telegraph, is too good to be
lost:
Many years ago there was, in the eas
tern part of Massachusetts, a worthy old
D. D.; and though he was an eminently
benevolent man and a good Christian, yet
it must be confessed he loved a joke much
better than the majority even of inveterate
jokers. It was before church oigans were
much in use; and it so happened that the
choir of his church had recently purchased
a double bass viol. Not far from the
church was a large to vn pasture, and in it
a huge town bull. One hot Sabbath in
summer, the bull got out of the field and
came bellowing up the street. About the
church there was pler. y of untrodden grass,
and Mr. Bull stoppei to try its quality—
perchance to ascertain lie location had at
improved the flavorjat any rcto, the reverend
doctor was in the midst of his sermon,
and “boo-woo-woo” went the bull.
The clergyman paused, looked at the
singing-seats with a grave face, and
said :
“I would thank the musicians not to tune
their ltnsti umerils during service-time; it an
noys me very much.”
The people stared, and the minister
went on.
“Boo-woo-woo” went ihe bull, as he
passed to another green spot.
The parson paused agah, and again ad
dressed the choir:
‘ I really do wish the s ngers would not
tune their instruments while I am preach
ing, for, as 1 have alreadyteinarked, it an
noys me very much.”
The people tittered; for they saw by the
twinkle of his eye, that he knew as well as
anybody what the real stale of the case was.
The minister again went on with his dis
course, but had not proceeded far when
another “Boo-woo-woo” came from Mr.
Bull, when the parson paused once more,
and exclaimed :
“1 have twice already requested the mu
sicians iu the gaflery cot to tune their in
struments during sermon lime. [ now par
ticularly request Mr. Lefavnr that he will
not tune his double bass viol while I am
preaching.”
This was too much. Lefavor got up,
much agitated at the idea of “speaking out
in church,” and stammered out:
“It isn’t rne e-e. Parson B ; it’s th-th-
that town bull!”
“Oh,” said the parson, “is it 1 Then the
sexton will please drive away the bull.”
The people laughed; hut, with a gratified
look at the success of the joke, he went on
with his sermon.
A DREAM REALIZED.
The following curious narative, told us
as being strictly true, is from the March
number of the Water Cure Journal. Its
incidents will remind the reader of the Scot
tish second sight, of which we have so many
examples.
1 was at school a close student, a young
ambitious lad of sixte/M, some what home-
spun but strong in uprightness, and con
scious of power. My dear father was sick
and gradually undergoing that grand me
tempsychosis which the shallow thinker
calls Death. It was a stormy day in Janu
ary; the snow had fallen two feet deep,
when I started for my home eight miles
distant. My father had written me that he
wanted to see me, be wanted to look into
my face—he wanted to give me injunction
after injunction not to forget my duties lo
him in the care of his wife, my mother. He
need not have said it. I could not—I nev
er can forget him or her. Death! A man
such as my father never dies. He lives in
his counsels full of wisdon as they were of
heart; in his examples ripe from wide ob
servation and varied experiment, constitu
ting ample experience; in his principles,
which were absolute, as great moral truths
are; in his very mistakes, which were
very few and were not small. His desire
to see me, growing out of a feeling that he
might, at any hour, “pass onward,” aud give
counsel, was natural, but not necessary,
but his slightest wish was law to me, and I
started for home as I have said, on foot.
Weary walk, this trudging an unbroken
snow path. Before I reached our door, I
thought my body would tire out completey
—but it did not—I accomplished it.
1 ate my supper, chatted awhile with my
parents and went to bed in my old bed
room. My father and mother I left sitting
in the kitchen, gratified at my arrival and
proud of me.
I fell asleep—awoke; and took a seat
between my father and mother. They looked
surprised, and enquired why I had left my
bed.
Said T, “has nobody been in here since
I went to bed 1”
“No.”
"Has nobody been trying to injure you,
father! Has no one demanded money of
you 1”
"No.”
"Well,” replied I, “there will somebody
come, and that is why 1 have left my bed,
at least I have dreamed there would, and a
dream is no allusion to me, but a fierce re
ality.”
My father smiled as if incredulous, yet
as though he asked no braver or better de
fender thau his boy. At that instant my
mother, a very cautious woman, heard a
rap at the door, and stepping to it as I sup
pose to inquire who was there, and what
was wanted, and opened the door, aud in
came a terrible gust of wind and snow—for
the night was hideous,—aud with them
marched in a womun.
She walked halfway from the door to the
fire, when she discovered me, i evidently
took her back by my presence. I saw this
at a glance. I saw the creature of my
dream. I knew 1 was destined to struggle,
and I grew in strength as I looked at my
dear father and mother. She took a chair,
turned the back to the fire, and seated her
self with her face in the ehadow. I kept
my seat and appeared to give her no atten
tion.
“Who are you !" inquired my father.
“What’s that to you I” said she.
"Every thing, if you are to stay in my
house, nothing, if you are not.”
"What if I will not tell you I”
“Then you must leave the house.”
"Leave the house 1” exclaimed she, “I
should like to see any one here try to put
me out!”
"What if I call my men and throw you
out neck and heels 1”
"You have not got any men, they have
all gone home.”
—" - » n-
"How do you know ?” ^ ’
"I enquired at the house dh wie road be
fore I came here. It is Saturday night—
and I was told your laborers all went home
Saturday night and that you lived alone.”
I glanced at my father—he was pale, but
his courage ebbed not a whit. He was
helpless, not able to get our of his chair,
and he surmised strange occurrences, for
he had received not less than eighteen hun
dred dollars that very week by his large
wheat sales, and he saw what was before
him. This hag was either a decoy or a
man in disguise; whose purpose was rob
bery.
1 could see all this was very rapidly pas
sing through my fathers mind, but it did not
bow him the ninth part of an inch. So I
sat still as if I suspected nothing but a war
of words; the hag had an old quilted hood
and an old bombazine cloak, which came
lo her feet aud was belted about the body.
“You are a women I” said my father.
"Of course 1 am, what do you ask that
question for I”
"You have a husband I”
“Yes.”
"Where does he live 1"
"In Truxton.”
“Well, then, if you have a husband, why
do you not live at home, instead of gadding
about such nights as this, alone—a night fit
only for fiends to be abroad ?”
"Why dont you 6et the North River on
fire I” exclaimed she, leaping from her chair
and springing towards my father, and his
sing through her teeth, “I’ll teach you why
I am here.”
My mother screamed and ran, my father
made an ineffectual attempt to get out of
the way but instantly yielded, resolved to
take what awaited him, and 1 was out of
my seat as quick as the hag. As she pass
ed me to grapple my father; I struck her
with my fist a blow under the ear, which,
but for old cotton hood would have knocked
her down. As it staggered her, it gave
me time to get the chairs out of the way,
and gather myself for a fight.
She recovered, and looked at me a mo
ment, said as if in a soliloquy—Oh ! you
choose to cross my track, do you I Well
d—n me if I do not settle you pretty quick”
aud thrusting her hand into her cloak, made
as if she would draw a dagger. The mo
tion maddened me; it brought foam to my
lips, I struck her a half a dozen blows tis
quick as lightning, she let her dagger go
and clenched me—her gripe satisfied me
that I had found my match, aye, more in
strength, and that my skill as a boxer, and
my almost unequaled ability as a wrestler,
must save me. I had learned pugilism of a
clever English teacher, and at wrestling, to
that day I had never been thrown. I knew
when I felt the gripe that I was dealing with
a man. 1 felt that my father and
mother were relying on me and I grew
6trong, as I before said. We tussled,
grasped and let loose, struck and parried,
clenched and wrestled, till at various at
tempts we found ourselves to what wrest
lers call a "side hold.” I got the “under
arm,” and I lifted him—for it was no lon
ger her—over my hip, threw my leg around
his and turned him. He fell on the floor
like a log. I intended to break his bones,
but he unhooked his cloak—it became un
belted in the struggle—and leaped up like
a cat.—His cloak and woman hood fell
together. I struck him before he was bal
anced, staggered him, grappled my left
hand into his throat, and struck him again
—called on my mother to open the door,
and as she did so 1 pushed him and kicked
him out; He swore he would be the death
of me. I told him to take himself out of
the State or I would put the sheriff an his
track, and shutting the door in his face,
walked to my father.
"My son,” said he, "kneel down,” and I
did, and my mother was by my side, and
my brother, a boy younger than myself who
had awakened, and crept into the kitchen,
was also there, and father prayed God for
his blessings, and thanked Him for safety,
and blessed me for my coolness and bravery
and we all went to bed.
Now let your doubters tell me how I
came to see this matter beforehand. Thia
very hooded and cloaked man, I had seen
and heard his threats to my father, had
struggled with him, and conquered him in
my dream, before he came into the house,
and bad awakened and left my bed to go
and see after my father's safety, to conquer
him again in the kitchen. All the main
features of the occurrence were made
known to me before they took place, and by
the impression they made on me enabled
me, I doubt not, to save my parent’s lives. ,
This incident differs from the others in this, i
that what I was conscious of in one slate,
was common to the other. It was an act of
prevision. I could make a book of such in
cidents in my own life.
Let these suffice to satisfy the reader, as
far as my testimony goes, of the truth of the
position, that persons whilst in the body,
are not always subject to material causes
or motives, as prompters of activity.
THE FLYING SHIP.
Mr. Rufus Porter, the inventor of an
Aeroport, or sort of an atmosphere flying
engine, has issued the following circular to
holders of shares in the enterprise. It will
be read as an amusing evidence of the ad
vance of visionary humbug in these days of
progress.
To the Shareholders:—Since the date of
my last report we have had rain every day,
which has greatly retarded our progress—
the work being of a nature to require dry
weather. Nevertheless, I have the satis
faction to announce that the float (the most
essential part oi the apparatus) is ready for
inflation with air, preparatory to the ad
justment of the longitudinal rods, rudder,
pulleys, replenishing pipes, and 6aloon
wires. Some parts of the work prepared
have been admired and complimented by
the few who have seen them. The engines
are superior, both in construction and style.
The floor of the saloon is twenty feet in
length by six in breath, and consists of a
combination of upwards of one hundred
and forty pieces of spruce limber, and
strong enough to sustain forty persons; yet
its entire weight is only twenty-five pounds.
The floor of the engine room is arranged
to be independent of the main floor ; and
the engine and boiler are so arranged as
to be at any time entirely disconnected
from the wheels, and detached from the
saloon, should occasion so require, for the
purpose of repair or otherwise.
I have heretofore; and until recently, ex
pected to find a cheaper mode of producing
hydrogen gas for inflation than the corns
mon chemical process, and especially as a
gentleman had offered to furnish the gss
for less than fif:y dollars. But he, foi rea
sons known to himself, having recently de
clined to fulfill his engagement, I have de
cided to inflate by the old process, only em
ploying zinc instead of iron, and also em
ploying cubical trunks for generators, in
stead-of bat rets or casks.
1 have already ordered the materials for
inflating, the cost of which will exceed
$600. The anticipation of disappointment
with regard to the economical mode of in
flation induced me to sell more shares than
was at first intended. But it is gratifying
to consider that none of the shareholders
will suffer the least disadvantage by the
excess of expense in the construction of
this first Aeroport. That our patience has
been t-iied, by a succession of untoward
circumstances, I need not hesitate to admit;
but still the prospect is bright as aver; the
shares are in demand; and two weeks of
fair weather will enable me to "report pro
gress” in a manner more interesting to
parties concerned.
RUFUS PORTER.
THE FATE OF A DRUNKARD.
BV CHARLES DICKENS.
When the dim and misty light of a win
ter’s morning penetrated into the narrow
Court, and struggled through the begrimed
window of the wretched room, Warden a-
woke from his heavy sleep and found him
self alone. He rose and looked around,him;
the old flock mattress on the floor wa9 un
disturbed, everything wasjust as he remem
bered to have seen it last, and there was no
sign of any one, save himself, having occu
pied the room during the night. He had
enquired of the other lodgers, and of the
neighbors; but his daughter had not been
seen or heard of. He rambled through the
streets and scrutinized each wretched face,
among the crowds that thronged them, with
anxious eyes, but his search was fruitless,
and he returned to the garret when night
came on desolate and weary.
For many days he occupied himself iu
ihesame manner,but no traces of his daugh
ter did he meet with, and no word of her
reached his ears. At last he gave up the
pursuit as hopeless, and long thought of the
probability of her leaving him, and en
deavoring to gain her bread in quiet else
where. She had left him at last to starve
alone. He ground his teeth and cursed
her.
He begged his bread from door to door.
Every half-penny he could wring from the
pity or the credulity of those to whom he
addressed himself was spent in the old way.
A year passed over his head, the roof of a
jail was the only one that had sheltered him
for months. He slept under arches and in
brick fields—anywhere where there was
some warmtn or shelter from the cold and
rain. But in the la9t stage of poverty; dis
ease and houseless want, he was a drunkard
still.
At last, one bitter night, he sunk down
on a door step, faint and ill. The prema
ture decay'of vice and profllgracy had worn
him to the b ine. His cheeks were hollow
and and livid, his eyes were suuken, and
their sight was dim. His legs trembled be
neath his weight, and a cold shiver ran
through every limb.
And now the long forgotten scones of a
misspent life crowded thick aud fast upon
him. He thought of the time when he had
a home, a happy, cheerful home—and of
those who peopled it; and flocked about him
then, until the forms of his elder children
seemed to rise up from the grave, and stand
about him, so plain, so clear and so distinct
they were, that he could touch and feel
them. Looks that he had ! ong forgotten,
were fixed upon him once more; voices long
since hushed in death, sounded in his ears
like the music of village bells. But it was
only for an instant. The rain beat heavily
upon him: aud cold and hunger were gnaw
ing at his heart again.
He rose and dragged his feeble limbs a
few paces further. The street was silent
and empty—the passers by, at that late hour
hurred quickly on and his tremulous voice
was lost in the violence of the storm. The
heavy chill again struck through his frame,
and his blood seemed to stagnate beneath it.
He coiled himself up in a projecting door
way, and tried to sleep.
But sleep had fled from his dull and glaz
ed eyes, His mind wanlered strangely,
but he was awake and conscious. The
well-kaown shout of drunken mirth sounded
in his ear—the glas9 was at his lips—the
board was covered with rich food—they
were before him. he could see them all—he
had but to reach his hand and take them —
and though the allusion was reality itself; he
knew that he was sitting alone in the deser
ted street watching the rain drops as
they pattered on the stones, and
that there was none to care for or to help
him.
Suddenly he started upon the extremity
of terror. He had heard his own voice
shouting in the night air; he knew not what
or why. Hark! A groan! Another! His
senses were leaving him—half formed and
incoherent words burst from the lips; and
his hands sought to tear and lacerate his
flesh. He was going mad, and he shrieked
for help till his voice failed him.
He raised his head and looked up the
long dismal street. He recollected that
outcasts like himself, condemned to wander
day night, in those dreadful streets, had
sometimes gone distracted with their lone
liness. He remembered to have heard
many years before, that a homeless wretch
had been found in a solitary corner, sharp
ening a rusty knife to plunge into his own
heart, preferiog death to that endless, weary
wandering to & fro. In an instant his resolve
was taken; his limbs received new life;
he ran quickly from the spot, and paused
not for breath until he reached the river’s
6ide.
He crept softly down the steep stone
stairs that led from the commencement of
Waterloo bridge, down to the water’s level.
He crouched into a corner, held his breath
as the patrol passed. Never did the priso
ner’s heart throb with the hope of liberty
and life half so eagerly as that of the wretch
ed man at the prospect of death. The
watch passed close by him but he remained
unobserved, and after waiting till the sound
of footsteps had died away in the distance he
cautiously descended and stood beneath the
gloomy arch that forms the landing place
from the river.
The tide was in, and the water flowed at
his feet. The rain had ceased, the wind
was lulled and all was, for the moment, still
and quiet—so quiet that the rippling of the
water against the barges that were moored
there was distinctly audible to bis ears.—
The stream stole languidly and sluggishly
en. Strange and fantastic forms rose to the
surface, and beckoned him to approacb;dark
gleaming eyes peered from the water, and
seemed to mock his hesitation, while hollow
murmurs from behind seemed to urge him - L -
onward. He retreated a few paces, took a
short run, a desperate leap, and plunged in
to the river.
Not five seconds had passed when he rose
to the water’s surface, but what a change
had taken place in that short lime in all bis
thoughts and feelings! Life, life in any
form, poverty, misery, strrvation, anything
but death. He fought and struggled with
the water that closed over his head, and
sciearned in agonies of terror. The curse
of his own son rang in his ears. The shore
—but one fool of dry ground—he could al
most touch the step. One hand’s breadth
nearer, and he was saved—but the tide
bore him onward, under the dark arch
es of the bridge and he sank to the bot
tom.
Again he rose; and struggled for life.—
For one instant—for one brief instant—the
building on the river’s bank,the lights on the
bridge under which the current had carried
him, tha black water and the fast dying
clouds were distinctly visible—once more
he sank and rose again—bright flames of fire
shot up from earth to heaven and reeled be
fore his eyes, while the water thundered in
his ears, and stunned him with the furious
roar.
A week afterwards the body was washed
ashore some miles down the river, a swollen
and disfigured mass. Unrecognised and
unpitied, it was borne to the grave—there it
has long since mouldered away.
THE POWER OF SORROW.
Sanctified sorrows, what power they pos
sess. God has chosen his people in the furn
aces of affliction. Afflictions sanctified take
the heart away from the vanity of earth,
and fix it on things above.
If riches vanish, you are more ready to
think of the treasures that are laid up in
Heaven. If honors fade, you will think
more highly of the honor that comes from
God only. If your reputation be injured
by calumny, it will seem a small thing to be
judged of man’s judgment. If you make
yourself, as our blessed Saviour did, “of no
reputation,” you will look up to God and
enjoy his approving smile.
If friends are removed by death, your
eyes follow them upward, as the prophet’s
did his ascending Master. II they have
gone to rest in the embrace of their Sa
viour, you catch their falling mantle; and
are led to aspire to the same glorious state.
Tell us, young mother, since God took
your beautiful babe and dressed it foi the
skies, and made it an angel of light, has not
the world seemed poorer, and Heaven
more replete with glorious realities! Tell
us, aged parents, from whom God hath ta
ken a daughter iu the pride and beauty of
early womanhood, quenching the light of
her cultivated talents on earth, and veiling
all her acquired accomplishments from the
eyes of mortals, what think you now of
Heaven ? Does it not seem more certain
and more near, more bright and more beau
tiful!
I ask that aged mother who sits iafirm
beside the deathbed of her son, and watches
the decay of his manly form till the 9taff
of declining days ia broken, and she is left
to sigh over the remembrance of his infant
years and prattle, and his boyish actions
and youthfnl impulses, and the kind and
yearning spirit wi h which he always re
turned to her in seasons of absence, what
thinke9t thou now of Heavenly things! I3
not Heaven nearer because earth is drear?
Do not the many mansions glitter more
brilliantly before thine eyes ?
I ask that widowed Christian, from whom
God has snatched away the husband of her
youth, and the light of her eyes, and who
remembers to-day his well-known step, and
the accents of his voice, accents that still
ring in her ear when she thinks of him, let
thy bruised spirit testify—how do Heaven
ly things now appear, since the earth is be
reft of its chief joy !
I make a similar appeal to that husband
who has been called to lay a beloved wife
in the grave, and has just now awakened to
the fact that he did not duly appreciate her
when living. She was so gentle that you
was not aware of the power of her wo
manly influence over you,and so uncom
plaining that you did not appreciate her
claim upon your sympathies. You think
now of the brightness of her countenance
an the day of your espousals, of many lit
tle contrivances which she employed for
your happiness. You knew 9he was mor
tal, and yet you felt that she could not
leave you, that she must not die. But the
pale destroyer came; the bloom fled from
her cheek; the light of her eye was quench
ed; and that face which had been so full of
life became cold in death. Have you, be
reaved husband, bowed to God’s dispensa
tion and kissed the rod ! How, then, do
Heaven and earth compare, after such a
stroke a9 this! Does the world appear a
"paltry, naked waste.’ ’
"A dreary vale of tears?”
Does not Heaven seem more desirable,
and more near! Does it appear to you
like the New Jerusalem coming down from
God out of Heaven?
A Western reporter gives the following
description of a conflagration: "The devas
tating element, unsatisfied with floods of
water, belched forth its crimson tints, and
spread the fiery flag of devastation over en
tire squares, unchecked by the superhuman
exertions of the firemen, who seemed like
lost spirits in the halls of pandemonium, as
they flocked around the terrific spectacle.”
A new kind of mirror has been introduc
ed into Philadelphia, which may be consid
ered a kind of labor-saving machine, as
with one of these looking-glasses, a person
need not look out of the window to see what
is going on up or down the street. Two
Mirrors are placed at right angles on the
window, and in these every individual pas
sing up or down on either side, is visible to
the person silting inside the window.
A preacher was holding forth and had
contrived so to work upon the feelings of
his auditors, that straw on the ground in*
side of the altar was completly covered with
prostrate mourners. Perceiving there were
many others present, ready to cast them
selves down, who refrained from so doing
solely through the wsnt of straw to li6 upon,
he cried out in the midst of bis exhortation
“Straw! We want more straw here!
Brother Brown for the Lord sake run up
to your tent and get more straw! Tweuty
souls lost for the want of straw!”
Childhood is like a mirror, catching and
reflecting images. One impious or profane
thought uttered by a parent's lip may oper
ate upon the young heart like a carelesa
spray of water thrown upon polished steel;
staining it with rust, whieh no after scour
ing can efface.