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LITERARY djmsaiitr. n. I’ V.> ‘ PBKFIELD, GEORGIA. g■g| \ 9 ‘ f ..... ■-- ■ ‘-••■■ * ** ‘ ~ ‘ V- T — LINCOLN TEAZEY Edito*. THURSDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 25, 1858. The Westminister Review has been received from the Re- publishing House of L. Soott St Cos. New York. The papers on life in Africa, Shelley and India, are very interesting. Several others pos sess attractive headings. Price, $3.00; Black wood and 4 Reviews, SIO.OO. 0 I “ RupertV has lively fancy, and uses very good language. There is, however, an obscurity in his style, arising from an imperfect expression of his ideas, that would render it undue to him to pub lish his sketch. We think him capable of be coming a good writer, and will be pleased to hear from him again. We are under obligations to the Southern Bap tist Publishing House, Charleston, S. C. for a copy of “ Grace Magnified” by Rev. H. E. Taliaferro, of Tuskegee, Ala. junior Editor of the South-Wes tern Baptist. Its careful perusal will prove in teresting and profitable; and most especially should it be read by every Clergyman. Price, in muslin, cents; paper, cents. Godey’s Ladys’ Book for March is gotten up in ,its usual superior style. The “Mother’s Bless ing,” which adorns it, is one of the most chaste and beautiful engravings we have ever seen. It, of itself, is worth more than the cost of the num ber. “ The best capital for a young man is a capital voung wife. So a gentleman informs us, who has been married over twenty years.” We suppose he means a wife who has capital* These are the only kinds of capital wives who gain popularity in these mercenary days. Our remarks in reference to the mail carrier in our last issue were designed for the driver only, and not intended to reflect on the contractors. With them, we have no matter of complaint, save -their employment of an agent who has neither accommodation or politeness. A friend writing to us requests our views on State and Church education. Should we give them, we might tread on the toes of many who are weekly putting forth through the press their Utopian schemes for the education of the masses. We, however, promise to give him an expres sion of opinion on this subject whenever we can find time to give it the attention which its impor tance demands. The New York 3ay-Book says that the newspa pers throughout the country devote from six to ten columns to the marriage of a boy and girl in England, while four lines suffice for the nup tials of Millard Fillmore, ex-President of the Un ited States. The hit is a good one. The toady ism displayed by the American Press about these Royal ceremonies has become really disgusting— a disgrace to the country and a libel upon her republican sentiments. Who cares whether the Princess rOyai wore a robe of moire antique and a Honiton lace veil or a plain calico dress without hoops or flounces ? We have no doubt that our Martha Jane or Maria Matilda, who was married last week or last month to some sturdy farmer the slightest noise, is worth more in eve ry trait of womanly nobility than all the butter flies of courtly fashion who could Btand between here and St. James’ Palace. ► “If* any persons, especially such as live in coun llL try neighborhoods, find the small amount of reading matter at their command a source of dis comfort. They have no access to public libraries, and their means will not enable them to purchase one of their own. There is a very easy method by which these may, in a few years, collect a large amount of choice reading at a cost almost imperceptible. Let them take a good family newspaper and clip out and paste in a scrap-book every article that they think will be worthy of a second perusal. Almost every number of even the commonest paper will contain several such articles; and by pursueing this practice, you will in a few years have a large volume of select mis cellanies. Try it. Hard times and retrenchment of expenses is now all the cry. This notion of retrench ment is a good one, but too many go about it-in a wrong way. Instead of curtailing some unnec essary extravagance, many a man looks over his long list of accounts, and, as the result of his cal < culations, says “ I must stop my paper.” This is commencing economy at the wrong end of the row. Try first if you cannot lop off some other expense that is more unnecessary. Is your table not supplied with more luxuries than the well be ing of yourself and family absolutely requires? Would not a less costly wardrobe do you equally as well for all purposes of comfort ? In a word, are there not hundreds of places where you could lessen your outlays without depriving yourself or family of all intellectual food ? Finish yonr din ners without some costly dessert every day, take a bow from your wife’s or daughter’s bonnet, or a flounce from her skirt, or subject yourself to a multitude of such trifling inconveniences, rather than stop your paper. A writer in Blackwood thus speaks of this most common, and in its last stages, most terrible of our attributes: is one of the beneficent and terrible k instincts. It is, indeed, the very fire of life, un derlying all impulses to labour, and moving man to noble activities by its imperious demands. Look where we may, we see it as the motive pow der which sets the array of human machinery in ; action. It is Hunger which brings these stalwart navvies together in orderly gangs to cut paths through mountains, to throw bridges across riyers tto intersect the land with the great iron-ways .which bring city into daily communication with <eity. Hunger is the overseer of those men erect ing palaces, prison-houses, barracks, and villas. Hunger sits at the loom, which with stealthy pow <er is weaving the wondrous fabrics of cotton and lk. Hunger labours at the furnace and the plough, coercing the native indolence of man into strenuous and incessant activity. Let food be abundant and easy of access, and civilization becomes impossible; for our higher efforts are de pendent on our lower impulses in an indissolu ble manner. Nothing but the necessities of food will force man to labour which he hates, and will always avoid when possible. And although this seems obvious only when applied to the labouring classes, it is equally though less obviously true when applied to all other classes, for the money we all labour to gain is uothing but food, and the surplus of food, which will buy other men’s la bour. Jk’ If in this sense Hunger is seen to be a benefi cent instinct, in another sense it is terrible, for when its progress is unchecked it becomes a de vouring flame, destroying all that is noble in man, -"'subjugating his humanity, and making the brute dominant in him, till finally life itself is extin guished. Beside the picture of activities it in ’ spires, we might also place a picture of the feroc ities it evokes. Many an appalling story might be cited, from that of Ugolina in the famine-tower, to those of wretched shipwrecked men and wo men who hare been impelled by tue madness of starvation to murder their companions that they inight feed upon their flesh. H* who depends solely on external sources of enjoyment, must unavoidably experience many hours of misery. This is a truth thousands practically disregard. They plunge into scenes of excitement—it may be dissipation under the fond hope of there obtaining happiness. They do indeed there realize a certain form of pleasure; but when the momentary exhiliration which gave it birth has passed away, low spirits and ennui are sure to follow. The most miserable men are those who live upon excitement, when all excitement is removed. Their habits have not induced apathy; yet, all their feelings, when alone, seem to undergo a deadening stagnation, to which a real sorrow would be a relief. A mind well stored is the most unfailing source of happiness under all the circumstances of life. Mere knowledge, however, cannot produce hap piness unless the affections and emotions of the heart be properly trained. It is the office of these to draw forth supplies from the mind and administer to the spirit’s comfort. By these, each faculty of the intellect is made to lend its consoling and sustaining influence. Memory steals over the soul, soft and warm as the parting glow of a summer sun, spreading throughout a serene delight. Reason scrutinizes known facts, traces out their hidden relations, and lays open new truths that often break upon the mind like startling revelations. Imagination presents the scenes and characters of the past and future, weaving them into thousands of brilliant shapes. With all these resources laid under contribution for his entertainment, how can a man be lonely ? Truly he must be lost to reason and to manly thought, who thinks it solitude to be alone. In affliction a person needs some sustaining in fluence within him to prevent his sinking under its weight. Naturally strong powers of mind are not always sufficient. They may do much. The wild Indian of the American forests could eHdure defeat, captivity and all the horrid tortures their enemies could inflict without a murmuring groan, a quiver of the lip or the moistening of the eye. This was to a great extent the result of education. They were taught from earliest infancy to regard bravery as the noblest of all virtues, and a patient endurance of suffering the highest type of bra very. It was training like this that caused the gallant Porus to stand unmoved before his con quering foe and to excite his wonder by a display of a magnanimity that has never been surpassed. It is painful to behold the struggles of a man naturally great of heart under the scourge of af fliction, when no inward supply of strength has 1 been collected to resists its attacks. Too often they disgrace themselves by the exhibition of an abject cowardice. It was*thus with the ill-starred Monmouth. He had been the object of his fath er's doting love, and the flatteringly caressed idol of the common people. Thus walking in the sunlight of prosperity, he displayed all the win ning graces of a soldier. But when his parent was no more; when the sycophants that flattered had fled from his side and left him a condemned criminal in a dungeon cell, his spirit sunk within him and he plead for his life with a craven hu mility that would have disgraced the lowest sol dier in his camp. It has often been remarked as a matter for wonder, that some of the noblest works of genius have been produced under cir cumstances in which ordinary minds would have sunk in despondency. Homer, the most illustri ous of earth-born poets, if tradition be true, was blind. It is well known the master poet of our language composed the work on which his fame is rested, after an eternal night had closed upon his eyelids. Yoltaine wrote his Henraide while immured in the Bastile, and Bunyan indulged his sublime dream in the gloomy damps of a pris on. Hood, while gasping for breath, wrote strains that will to the end of time stir the inmost feel ings of the heart, and, like the dying swan, his last was the sweetest lay of all. The eager pursuers of excitement may spend the morning of their, lives in happiness; but this cannot last. The noonday and the evening will come when they can no longer take pleasure in these things. Far better is it to employ these sunny hours in laying up in the intellectual store house treasures that render middle life and old age cheerful and happy. U A young Irish-girl who was rendering testi mony against an individual in a Court of Law, said: ‘lam sure he never made his mother smile.’ There is a biography of unkindness in that sentence.” A black character it must be, indeed, in whose biography these lines could be truthfully written. The foulest offence that has ever shocked human ears could not add a darker stain. We can im agine no crime in the whole catalogue of earthly wickedness that betrays a heart more dead to all that is noble and good than unkindness to a mother. It announces the withering of that first sweet flower of affection that springs up fresh and pure in the infant’s breast ere its lips can syllable a parent’s name. Nero, in lii6 tyrannous rage, turned his whole empire into one vast field of suffering, set Rome on fire and sang above its roaring flames; yet, no deed of the demented wretch excites our indignation so much as his shocking barbarity to his mother. The relation existing between a mother and her offspring is the most holy and mysterious that can be known. Her office cannot be too highly magnified. When true to God and those whom he has given her, a mother is the highest style of woman. She loves with a love that knows no ebb, no decrease, in its all-absorbing intensity. She is the first, best and last friend. When others forsake or look on with bitter frowns, she still clings with unabated affection to those whom her breast hath fed. Upon her lips hang sweet words of love or soft accents of warning, but anger or reproof never fall from her tongue. In Bickness her patience never flags; in sorrow she always has some soothing charm to, still the ragings of the troubled breast; in the dark vale of crime and shame her form still hov ers near to cheer its gloom. This is the description of a good mother, and good every mother must be. Whatever may be her conduct in the other relations of life, as a mother, she is always kind, true and faithful, though not always prudent. Often her fondness gets the better of her judgment, and she yields in weakness where she should stand firm. But this is a failing that leans to virtue’s side. Let no lost wretch try to cast a reflection on the memory of his mother because she did not with strong arm compel him when his feet first sought to go as tray. She gently chid his erring, wept over his follies and poured forth for him many an agonised prayer, which the ear of Heaven alone has heard. Through all these influences he took his down ward course to ruin; and must she be blamed? The holy influence of a pious mother ends not when “the vital spark of Heavenly flame” ceases to burn, and her soul has found its rest in “the bosom of her father and her God.” It still lin gers a guardian spirit, viewless, perhaps, to mor tal ken, yet, powerful in its restraining and con trolling energy. Unsanctified ambition vainly seeks admittance into the heart whose portals are guarded by this faithful sentinel. Passion’s wild host brook its control, and, lulled by its magic potency, repose in quiet calmness. It is ever present, unobtrusively attending the spirit in all its moods and variations, steadily pointing it on ward, and softly whispering “ A voice that speaks of her and Heaven, And bids it meet her there.” I wonder what ascetical lips, even of old maids, confirmed croakers and disappointed office seekers, would not expand into a genial smile at the quaint sayings of children ? They are infin itely more mirth-provoking than the ebullitions of grown up wit. “What are you doing Johnny?” asked my fa ther, yesterday, of the little, bright-eyed pet of our household, who, with a sharpened stick and very flushed cheeks, was digging up the earth in a corner of the yard. “ I’m digging up the chicken Sis planted, to see if it’s growing,” was the comical reply,ns he raised his large, serious looking eyes to my father’s face. It turned out, on inquiry,- that he was desecra ting the “burial ground” where his “Sis” had been in the habit of interring her pets. Papa had been practically demonstrating to him the mysteries of seed-sowing and germinating, and his two years’ experience had not taught him the difference between planting and burying. Children often ape their elders most ludicrous ly, and afford laughable caricatures of their grown-up brothers and sisters. I have a blue eyed cousin of ten or twelve summers—a perfect trump on the play-gronnd, or at rabbit hunting, but as mute as a mouse, and a martyr to mauvaise houte in the presence of curls and pantalettes.— Last summer his sister persuaded him to accom pany a play-mate of hers—a little, miniature lady, from a birthday party. He offered his arm, keep ing at a respectable distance from her flounces, and did not open his lips until they stopped on reaching her home, when remembering that his elder brother would tease him unmercifully about his bashfulness, he ventured to ask, in a choking voice, after her sick baby-brother. “ Thanks be to the good One above, he is quite compilescent,” replied the little lady, with an over sowing curt’sey. Jimmy did not attempt another remark. Some time ago, at a protracted meeting in our village, the spirit of gallantry became quite an epidemic, and prevailed among the juveniles to such an extent, that no young lady over ten years would attend church without an escort. Among the rest, an embryo exquisite, in his first boots, caught the infection. Having obtained a gra cious answer to his request, that “Miss Emma would allow him the pleasure of accompanying her home,” and being afraid to return alone, he was seen to take aside a negro boy near his own size and give him these minute directions: “ Dave,” said he, “ I’m going from church with Miss Emma to-night, and I want you to walk be hind us—not too close mind, so you’ll be there to come bach home with me.” Jessie Brown. The following beautiful tribute to the heroine of Lucknow is from the pen of Virginia F. Town send, the gifted Editress of Arthur's Home Mag azine : Every woman has, or ought to have taken a pe culiar interest in the East India war, that fearful tragedy of the Summer of eighteen hundred and fifty-seven, for woman has here borne a part, and occupied a position not often occupied among the nations of the earth; aye, and the great rallying cry of this battle has been the name and the hon or of woman ! When the tidings of an insurrection among the Sepoys of India first reached us last summer, no body felt any especial interest or sympathy with either party ; nay, it might have been that what existed of these was partially with the insurgents; for this revolt was felt by many to be the rising up of the oppressed against the oppressors, the long delayed retaliation of a people who had borne what the weak usually have to bear from the strong, and whom long years of unjust taxa tion and petty tyrannies had at last goaded to re bellion. But a little later there rose a cry from that far off land, seated in its wondrous tropical beauty on the blue waters of the Indian ocean ; a cry that smote the heart of Christendom as the heart of a single man. No wonder there was swift arming in noble’s hall and by peasant’s hearthstone, for the moans of murdered women and the cries of slaughtered children, came piteously across the Summer wa ters, and roused all the old Teutonic chivalry in the heart of the nation, and throughout the land strong men with blanched faces lifted their hands and swore to avenge the wrongs of woman, in the name of the God of battles! Oh, it is this reverence for woman that shines a bright and steady light over all the dai-kness and barbarism of the early Teutonic race; it is this that, next to the Bible, has placed the Saxon na tion so far above all the nations of the earth, the brightest star of all her stars of strength and glo ry- But through all the sickening-and revolting de tails of this war the newspapers have given us pictures of scenes, which for tragical power and living pathos, surpass the history of any war the earth has ever witnessed. What painter ever con ceived of a scene like the one where that band of soldiers clustered around the body of the murdered ed girl, and each reverently receiving one of the tresses that had crowned her young head in life and innocence, bent with haggard brows and fiery eyes over their fearful task of counting the hairs therein, before they all lifted their hands and swore that for every one of these another life should make recompense Oh, English maiden girl! terrible as was thy fate in the fair land of thy father’s adoption, sure ly thou wast avenged, and it may be from the grave made by thy foul murderers, thy voice, could it speak, would come back softly to us, “ In the midst of wrath, remember mercy !” Who, too, has not read the letter of that lady of Lucknow. We pity the man or the woman who could doit with dry eyes and steady voice. How simple she tells her story, that, for trag ical interest and heroic patience, has never, in all the annals of ancient or modern history, been surpassed.* Here, in the heart of this practical nineteenth century, was enacted a drama, whose scenes of terror, despair, and final deliverence, ex ceeded all that it ever entered into the heart of genius to conceive of. The days of the Cae sars, the wars of the’ Crusades, never furnished a tragedy like this. Just think of it! These help less women had been imprisoned for months, m the Residency at Lucknow, with only that little band of brave men to stand between them and a death so terrible that imagination turns away sickened and appalled at the thought; but one can well conceive how that “ unutterable hor ror,” at Cawnpore, only a few miles distant, haun ted them by night and by day, seemingly a frightful prophecy of the fate that awaited them. Their foes, “fifty thousand against a few hundred,” were pressing closer and closer—?oes who carried beneath the faces of jmen hearts before which it seemed fiends must shrink abashed. ‘ Yet how calmly writes that brave lady from Lucknow ! “We were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours all would be over. The engi neers had said so, and all knew the worst. We women strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the batte ries, and supplying the men with provisions, we performed day and night.” She had gone out to render some offices of this kind with “Jessie Brown,” the wife of a corporal in her husband's regiment. Worn out with fa tigue and that haunting terror of the to come, the two women sank upon the ground. Poor Jessie wrapped her Scotch plaid about her and laid her head in the mistress’s lap. “A con stant fever consumed her, and she had fallen away visibly for the last few days,” while her thoughts continually wandered away to the pur ple hills and green valleys of her Scotch home.— How touching are those words:**l promised to awaken her when, as she said, her father should return from the ploughing!” So the poor Scotch woman sank to her sleep, under those burning midnight skies, amid dreams of her cool, native heather, and of the peaceful cottage threshhold where she watched for her father’s coming at nightfall. Her companion, too, sank into a troubled slum ber, though the cannon was roaring near her, for the brave little band on the batteries, though all hope had now forsaken them, had resolved only to yield with their lives. Suddenly a wild unearthly scream struck through the lady’s slumber. She opened her eyes, and there stood Jesie Brown, her figure upright, and her white, sharpened face bent eagerly forward. Suddenly the light of a great joy overswept her face. She bent forward and grasped the lady’s hands, and drew her close to her, crying with quivering lips, “Diana ye hear it 1 Dinna ye hear it! It’s the Slogan o’ the Highlaflders! We,re saved! we’re saVed!” Ah, she knew it, she knew it, the old war cry of her Highland home. Her ears had caught through all the din and roar of artillery, the music of her native mountains. What pen can tell the joy that filled the Scotch woman’s soul at those well remembered sounds, or with what feelings she knelt down and blessed the God of her fathers for this deliverance! But the poor English lady heard nothing of this. The “rattle of the musketry” only broke the stillness of the night, and she thought “Jes sie was still raving” as she sprang to the batteries and her voice rang up loua and clear above all the roar of the fight: “Courage! courage! hark te the Slogan—to the Macgregor—the grandest o’ them a’—here’s help at lastr * As her voice pealed along the line, anew hope sprang to the hearts of those worn out men.— They ceased firing, and listened as the dying lis ten for some hope of life. But they only* heard > the tread of the enemy, and the sound of the Sap pers ; and the Colonel shook his head, and the men’s heads sank again, and the wail of the wo men who had flocked to the spot at that cry of joy rose i0 and filled the midnight with moans. Then Jessie, who had sank on the ground sprang up, and her voice rose and vibrated once more in triumphant certainty along the line? “Will ye no’ believe it noo! The Slogan indeed has ceased, but the Campbells are coming ! D’ye hear 1 d’ye hear!” And then they did hear it—those wailing wo men—those tsbrn out men ! Sharp and clear there swelled, above the thunder of the cannon the pibroch of the Highlanders, and they ‘knew that deliverance was at hand. No wonder they thought “the voice of God ” was in the blast of the Scottish bagpipes ; no wonder they all sank on their knees, and the strong man, and the fee ble woman, and the lisping child, sobbed out from hearts too full for words their thanks unto Him who had “ given them the victory.” Oh, speaking as men speak, would it not have been worth soma years of a, lifetime, to have been with that little hand at Lucknow as it rose up, and to have joined in the shout which swelled from a thousand lips, and rolled down tq the Highland regiment, as it never rolled before, ‘‘God save the Queen!” How the sound must have thrilled the hearts of the Highlanders, as they answered loud and eager with that sweet old tune, “Should auld acquaintance be forgot.” No, blessed be God! they had not forgotten “auld lang syne;” for through toil and weariness, and forced marched, under those burning skies, they had come, bringing deliverance, when, had they delayed ’or rest through another day, all would have been over /” o’i, Jessie Brown! Jessie Brown! brave Scotch woman, you had your reward when they led you before the General, whose name his country will delight to honor, as he entered the Fort that night, and when your health was drunken at the officer’s banquet, and the pipers marched round the table to the sweet tune of auld lang syne.— You shall have your reward, too, in knowing that, wherever, over all the earth, the English tongue is spoken, your name shall be a household word, ■ honored and beloved! And when manv years have passed away, and we sit, gray haired grandfathers and grandmoth ers, amid our homes, and our grand-children gather in the long winter evening around us, and listen eagerly while we tell them of the fearful slaughter of Cawnpore, we will tell them also of the deliverance at Lucknow, and the brave story of “’Jessie Brown.” v. F. T. That was a very significant reply of a lad, when being asked what boys were fit for, answered, “we are fit to make men of.” But how many boys are there who are not fit to make men or fit for anything else in the world but to supply jails with tenants and gibbets with ornaments in hu man form ? There is a boy who has not yet en tered his teems, with a cigar in his mouth, an oath on his lips and a leer upon his whole counte nance that bespeaks the vacant, vulgar mind. In his own view of the case, he carries in his brain more than the concentrated wisdom of three gen erations of his ancestors; and doubtless he does of a certain kind of knowledge. He has begun life early, and at a fearfully rapid rate; but where will he stop ? It is sad to contemplate what must inevitably be the latter end of these young sprouts of fast principles. We have received the following spicy rejoinder to Ralph Redblossom’s “ wanted a wife,” which we published some weeks ago. We will be pleased to hear often from the fair authoress: Friend Ralph: Are you really in quest of a “good wife?” and cb you think the “race has be come entirely extinct ?” Oh no, my friend, just you keep up a stout heart—keep wideawake and duly jolly, andmay haps you'll wake one of these bright, sunshiny mornings and have cause to thank your stars for that continuance of faith that worketli miracles. I can’t speak for your acquaintances ; but I do know there is a mischievous sprite not far distant from this village, that if you could win her heart, she would give you her hand free gratis—and man alive! she would make you as happy aS a kitten in a rollicking play on a sunßliiny day. She is what the world oalls pretty, some say “fine looking,” while all agree that she’s proud— as proud as Lucifer; but then they have never searched her heart as I have, (I don’talways cred it a woman’s outward show,) she is only proudly independent, with a heart as pure, loving and trusting as ever warmed the breast of woman. She is also pious—not a religion of to-day, nor to morrow, but she practices it in her daily walk, and oh how refreshing to the weary invalid are her ministrations as she bends over the couch and whispers “in wisdom and mercy God pain ful remedies.” Yet, friend Ralph, she is little below an angel, for she wears a crinoline, and one of considerable dimensions too; but if you could see the ease and grace and sprightly bound with which she mounts the kitchen steps, you would murmur no more. Did I say kitchen steps ? certainly! And pray what business calls a young lady of the present day to that department ? I’ll tell you What she goes there for: to cook some of the nicest, dain tiest little cakes—to see if aunt Peggy follows her directions in basting the turkey, and to see if the pies she made this morning have browned as she desired. And if you could just see some of the nicely fit ting dresses that come from this little Abigail’s hands, you would be strongly convinced that she could make a shirt too, if there was a call for it. But Burely my friend, you do not intend to veto silks and satins altogether: for if you do, my par agon of perfection, I fear, will not correspond with your taste; for though she is not burdened with fine “ duds,” she inherits a limited share of the love for dress. Besides, she does not talk politics, though a sensible, intelligent and a pretty fair conversationalist. Is it absolutely necessary that she should ? Well, never mind, if she does not meet your ideal of a woman, there are many more of your brotherhood raising the safne lamentable cry for *• good wives, good wives,” and I’ll just reserve her to make glad the heart of some other siege lord not quite so fastidious, But tell me, is not a good wife deserving of a good husband ? and that be thinks me friend Ralph, if you should conclude to give our “sprite” a call, I could merely sug gest, (meaning no offence,) that you bring a “stand-by,”—a voucher that you are not guilty •f “ imbibing,” for she is somewhat particular, and you know our old fogy fathers—bless their souls—don’t like to be tricked by youngsters from a distance. ntN^lfliSw’ ¥ By one who is Interested in your Welfare. Fort Valley, Feb. 1 5th. iy r a| The ground of almost all our false reckoning is. that we seldom look any further than on one Bide of the ques tion. INDIES’ olio. Woman’s Power. “ Nor steal nor fire itself hath power, Like woman in her conquering hour, Be thou but fair —mankind adore thee ! Smile—and a world is weak before thee!” The poet has disolosed the whole secret of wo* man’s conquering power. Fair in her virtue, smiling in her goodness, she-wields an influence which mailed wajrrior never could. Her strength is in her graces, her weapon is love; and her pow er is resistless when these are combined with modest merit, and diotated by conscious duty. In influence, woman is much superior to man as affection is superior to intellect. Man repre sents the understanding of the universe, and wo man the will; man the mind, woman the soul • man the reason, woman the heart. The power ot observation and reflection are cold, useless ap pendages to the human being, unless warmed into exercise and attached to good objects by the feel mgs and sentiments of the affectionate mind. How little in the world do we think, judge and know, in comparison with what we feel 1 Man may do mighty things in the intellectual advan cement of the world ; but “ What I most prize in woman Is her affections, not her intellect! The intellect is finite, but the affections Are infinite, and cannot be exhausted.” ■ 11 Woman’s Influence over Kan. The instant a woman tries to manage a man for herself, she has begun to ruin him. The lovely creeper clings in its feebleness, with grace to the stately tree, but if it outgrow, as if to protect or conceal its supporter, it speedily destroys what it would otherwise adorn. When the serpent had persuaded Eve that she ought to induce her hus band to take her advice, and become as knowing as herself, she no longer felt herself made for him and both for God, but rather that he was made to admire her. When she prevailed they soon bick ered about their right places, no doubt, for God’s law was lost sight of oy both. One grand pur pose of woman’s power over man’s heart is the maintenance of man's self-respect. A man who loves a true hearted woman aims to sustain in himself whatever such a woman can love and reverence. They mutually put each other in mind of what each ought to be to other. To the formation of manly character, the love and reverence of the virtuous feminine character is essential. One must see in the other’s love the reflection of the character desired. Hence, the the pertinacity of true love andreverence often re covers a character that would otherwise be lost forever. If once mutual respect depart, then farewell the love that can alone rectify what is wrong ; then farewell the heart rest, without which life becomes a delirium and an agony. If it be the faculty of woman to love more tenaciously than man, her might surpasses his so far as she is w'ise in showing it. In expressing love without at the same time indicating her faith in the in herent dignity of man, however obscured, she only repels him to a worse condition, by exciting a reckless sense of his own worthlessness, together with a hatred of her forgiving patronage. When man hates himself, what can he love ? Give him time, and. he will love the soul that clings to him to save him.— Elective Review . We find beauty itself a very poor thing unless beautified by sentiment. The reader may take the confession as hfe pleases, either as an instance of abundance of sentiment on our part, or as an evidence of want of proper ardor and impartiality; but we cannot (and that is the plain truth) think the most beautiful creature beautiful, or be at all affected by her, or long to sit next to her, or go to the theatre with her, or listen to a concert with her, or walk in a field or forest with her, or call her by her Christian name, or ask her if she likes history, or §in (with any satisfaction) her gown for her, or be asked whether we admire her shoe, or take her arm even into a dining-room, or kiss her at Christmas, or on an April-fool day or May day, or dream of her, or wake thinking of her, or feel a want in the room when she is gone, or a pleasure the moment when she appears—unless she has a heart as well as a face and is a proper, good tempered, natural, sincere honestly girl, who has a love for other people and other things, apart from self-reverence and a wish to be admired. Her face would pall upon us in the course of a week, or even become disagreeable. We should prefer an enameled tea crop ; we would expect nothing from it. —Leigh Hunt. Ladies Growing Old. “To ‘grow old gracefully’—as one, who truly has exemplified her theory, has written and ex pressed it—is a good and beautiful thing ;to grow old worthily, a better. And the first effort to that end, is not only to recognise, but to become personly reconciled to the fact of youth’s depar true; to see, or, if not seeing, to have faith in, the wisdom of that which we call change, yet which is in the truth progression ; to follow openly and fearlessly, jn ourselves and our own life, the same law which makes spring pass into summer, sum mer into autumn, autumn into winter, preserving an especial beauty and fitnes in each of the four. “Yes if women could only believe it there is a wonderful beauty even in growing old. The charm of expression arising from softened tem per or ripened intellect, often amply atones for the loss of form and coloring; and consequent ly, to those who never could boast either of these latter, years give much more than they take away. A sensitive person often requires half a lifetime to get thoroughly used to this corporeal machine, to attain a wholesome indifference both to its defects and perfections—and to learn at last what nobody would acquire from any teacher but experience, that it is the mind alone which is of any consequence; that with good temper, sinceri ty and a moderate stock of brains—or evert the former only—any sort of body can in time be made useful, respectable, and agreeable, as a trav eling dress for the soul. Many a one, who was absolutely plain in youth, thus grows pleasant arid well-looking in declining years. You will hardly ever find anybody, not ugly in mind, who is repulsively ugly in person after middle life.” It is the height of folly for a half dozen bro thers, four uncles, and a gray headed father try ing to stop a young girl from getting married to the man she loves, and who loves her—just as if rope ladders were out of date, and all the horses in the world spavined. Woman as defined by the Chinese. —The strong minded woman is a dragon in a night cap. The stu pid woman hatches egg-plums. The obstinate woman goes to sea in a band-box. The patient wo man roasts an ox with a burning-glass. The cu rious woman to turn the rain-bow, to see what there is on the other side. The vulgar woman is a spider attempting to spin Jsilk. The cautious woman writes her promises on a slate. The ex travagant woman burns a wax oandle in looking for a lucipher match. The happy woman died in a blind, deaf and dumb asylum a year ago. * A woman is neither worth a great deal or noth ing. If good for nothing, she is not worth get ting jealous for; if she be a true woman she will give no cause for jealousy. A man is a brute to be jealous of a good woman—a fool to be jealous of a worthless one—but is a double fool to cut his throat for either of them. The women are like ivy—the more you are ruined the closer she clings to you, A vile old bachelor adds : “ Ivy is like a woman—the closer she clings to you, the more you are ruined.” Poor rule that won’t work both ways. ■ Rev. D. Tyng of New York recently delivered a lecture, upon Old Women,” in which he gave “ our grandmothers” the following compli ment: “ Nothing,” said he, “is more respected in a private family than the old grandmother who sits in the centre of its circle. I would not give up the worth of my children’s grandmother in my house for the best and handsomest young wo man in the land.” Care much for books and piotures. Don’t keep a solemn parlor into which you go but once a month with the parson, or the gossips of the sew ing society. Hang around your walls pictures which shall tell stories of mercy, hope, courage, faith and charity. Make your living room the largest and most cheerful in the house. Let the place be such that when your son has gone to dis tant lands, or even when, perhaps, he clings to a single plank in the lonely waters of the ocean, the thought of the old homestead shall come across the waters of desolation bringing always light, hope and leve. “ Nat, what are you leaning over that empty cask fort “I’m mourning over departed apirite.” FARMER’S COLUMN. cohoiebciai,. Angiuta Price* Current. WXOI.EIAI.X PRICES. BACON.-Hams, slb lli @ IS Canvassed Hams, lb 13 (m *l4 Shoulders, 9 (a 10 Western Sides, TANARUS& lb 10i @ 11 Clear Sides, Tenn., lb 11& @ 00 Ribbed Sides, , slb 11 © 00 Hog Round, new, lb 10J (S> 11 FLOUR.—Country bbl 500 (cu 600 Tennessee p bbl 475 @5 60 City Mills bbl 550 @7 50 Etowah $ bbl 500 (g> 750 Denmead’s m bbl 500 @ 700 Extra $ bbl 700 @ 750 GRAIN.—Corn in sack bush 60 (m 65 Wheat, white r fi bush 1 10 Q 1 20 Red tp ft. 100 @ 1 05 Oats bush 45 @ 50 Rye ip bush 70 @ 75 Peas & bush 75 85 Corn Meal ® bush 70 @ 75 IRON.—Swedea plb 5i ® 51 English, Common, p fl> 34 (<£ “ Refined, plb 3$ @ LARD.— &ft 10 @ 11 i MOLASSES.—Cuba aft gal 25 @ 28 St. Croix p gal 40 Sugar House Syrup ip gal 42 @ 45 Chinese Syrup lift ea l 40 50 SUGARS.-N. Orleans p I 8 (5> 9 Porto Rico pft 8i (a) ’ 9 Muscovado plb 8 uu 8i Refined C Pto 10 @ 11 Refined B flb 10i § 11 Refined A P to 11 @ HJ Powdered ‘ plb 12 13 Crushed Pto 12 <| 13 SALT.— & sack 1 00 @ 1 10 COFFEE.—Rio $ B> lli @ 124 Laguira plb 13 @ 14- Java plb 16 @ 18 I>|Ql The Strawberry Bed.— The land for Strawber ry culture should be spaded deep, and well supplied with vegetable matter, and thoroughly incorpora ted with the soil. We have used the decayed portion of old logs from the woods, as an annual dressing, with fine success. Prepare the beds for the plants by laying off the rows about two and a half feet apart; raise the rows about two inches, which ieaves a concave between the rows some fifteen inches wide. Put the plants twelve inches apart in the rows. The first season cultivate the n nicely without any mulching, and pinch off the runners with the thumb and forefinger as fast as they make their appearance. The beds that were set out last spring, should b© well mulched immediately with pine straw, spent tan, or cut straw, if it not been done previously. October or November is the proper time for this work, because it prevents the plants from freez ing out during Winter. Gas Lime. —ln answer to an inquiry as to the value of Gas Lime, the North British Agriculturist says—“ Gas lime is nearly identical with slaked lime, with the addition of gases taken from the gas on which it has acted as a purifier. One or more of these gases act injuriously on vegeta tion ; hence the necessity of applying gas lime in very small doses, or, preparatory to applica tion, mixing it up with lime compost. In Ber wickshire, farmers apply gas lime, which is con veyed in trucks from Edinburgh, where the price is nominal. If you apply the gas lime direct, three to seven tons is an ample allowance. After it is spread upon the land, allow it to lie for a week or two previous to plowing. If you have any ma terial for forming compost, mix it with gas lime, adding common salt—say at the rate of 3 cwts. to the acre.” 4li How to Make a Garden on Clay Soil—Lesson from Experience. —The Ohio Cultivator describes the manner in which a gardner near Columbus known as “Old Joe,” made a good garden on most forbidding soil: Joe’s garden was originally a compact clay soil, such as predominates through out a large portion of Ohio, and is the greatest obstacle to successful gardening, especially among farmers and those who cannot afford to do things thoroughly. But not so with our friend Joe. His first effort, after erecting a shelter for himself and his flowers, was to trench a portion of his ground two feet in depth, mixing with it coarse manure and other materials to enrich it, and especially to admit air into it. This was a slow and laborious operation, but it was the only true way ; and by doing a little at a time, the whole was accomplished without much expense, and the result has been such a healthy growth of his plants and shrubs, and such power to withstand drought, as to compensate tenfold for the labor. Since this fisrt operation on his land, Joe’s favorite applica tion has been saw dust,''half rotted, iftobe found, and in its absence, mould of rotted logs from the woods. A good dressing of these materials is spa ded into the ground as often as once in two years, at a cost fully doubldwthe expense of ordinary manuring. On my expostulating with Joe, one day, about his free use of saw-dust, and asking for his theory about its effects, he told me it was “to give the roots a chance to breathe.” This expla nation is so sensible, as well as philosophically correct, that I wish it could be indelibly impressed on the minds of all owners of clay grounds, whether fields ■•or gardens. The great want of our strong clay lands, is not so much the materials for ejiriching, but to admit the air into them, or as Joe says, “to give the roots a chance to breathe.” Let this be done, in connection with draining where too wet, and deep plowing or trenching, and the average products of our gardens and fields would be more than doubled, and the effects of our hot summers and severe drought wmild hard ly be noticed. CLIPPED ITEMS. A line may be remembered when a chapter la forgotten. The Paris correspondent of the London Advertiser says that a formal demand has been preferred upon the British Government for the expulsion of Victor Hugo, Mazzini, Ledru, Rollin and Louis Blanc from the Brit ish territory. Mr. Wright, the American Minister at Berlin, car ries his temperance principles with him and astonishes the people of that capital with entertainments without wine. In the Louisiana Senate, notice has been given of the introduction of a bill to import five thousand negroes from the coast of Africa. An affray occurred on the 6th January at a drinking house in Scriven county, between Ben Harrington s.na Jerry Fawley. Harrington stabbed Fawley. The lat ter lingered until the morning of the 27th January when he died. It is said that Gen. Concha will this month send to Spain from' ; Havana, the sum of s6o,ooo,ooo,part of which is the surplus of 1857. “ Madame,” said a polite traveller to a testy landla dy, “ if I see proper to help myself to this milk, is there any impropriety in it?” “ I don’t know what you mean: but if you mean to insinuate that there is any thing bad in that milk, I’ll give you to understand that you’ve struck the wrong house. There ain’t a first hair in the milk,for as soon as Dorathy Ann told me the cat was drowned in it, I went and strained it over.” The horrified young man declined partaking of the cat fla vored milk. A Beautiful Sight.—A fond, confiding and trusting pair, with hearts overflowing with love and purity, walking hand in hand, joyously and blushingly, modest ly and nopefully down the chequered vale of file, is in deed a beautiful sight. A young American lady in Paris threatens to sue President Buchanan for breach of promise; she says that dining at her father’s table years ago, he said to her— ■'* My dear Miss, if ever I should be President, you shall be the mistress of the White House.” In general, what a woman says with her eyes, de serves more attention than the words which escape from her lips; therefore, should she remain silent, although you have just asked a very interesting question, perhaps you may find an answer in her eyes. Col. Inglis, the defendant of Lucknow, India, is a grandson of the Rev. Dr. Charles Inglis, who was rec tor of Trinity Church N. Y., from 17/7 to 1/82. The annuity settled upon the Princess Royal of Jlng land for life, to commence on the date of her marriage, is £B,OOO, or nearly $40,000, gee from all tMes, assess ments and charges, and payable quarterly. The Jacksonville (Fla,) Republican records the death of Mrt Winnie Lassiter, on tlie 28th ult. aged 130 years. native of North Carolina, amfwas married SITS;.” many year, before .he revoluuon. The colored waiters of the Troy House, Troy, late}y struck on a requisiton always complied with, that in passing through the saloon or officeof the hotel, they should take off their hats or caps, and Mr. Jones, this week received a written communication from the dining room stating that the waiters had resolved not to ob serve the rule thereafter. The difliculty was summa rily disposed of.„The indignant waiters were discharged and anew force of colored waiteroemployed. The following result of the omission of a comma, is rather ludicrous. In an interesting article about the in auguration of the new hospital building in New York, the writer is made to state that an extensive view is presented from the fourth story of the Hudson River.