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Hlje iSfinjjiii v <y cmpattitce |§§rttS6i , V. JOHN H. SEALS, NEW SERIES, VOLUME 111. £j}t Centperaticc Cnwator. Published every Thursday In the year, except two. TERVIB t Two Dollar* per year, in advance. Clcbs of Ten Names, by sending the Cash, will receive the paper at .... £1 50 ft copy. Gixbs ok Five Names, at 180 “ Any person sending us Five new subscribers, inclo sing the money, shall receive an extra copy one year free of cost. ADVERTISING DIRECTORY: Bates of Advertising: 1 square, (twelve lines or less,) first insertion, $1 00 “ F,arh continuance, 50 Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding six lines, per year, ® 00 Announcing Candidates for Office, 3 00 Standing Advertisements: Advertisements not marked with the number of insertions, will be eontinued until forbid, and rharged accordingly. i 'ffi9"’Merchants, Druggists and others, may contract j for advertising by the year on reasonable terms. Legal Advertisements: •Hale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Ex- j ecutors and Guardians, per square, j 00 j Bale of Personal Property, by Administrators, Ex ecutors and Guardians, per square, 3 26 t Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25 ; Notice for Leave to Bell, 4 00 ; Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75 1 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n, 500 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guard'p, 325 Legal Requirements: Bales of Land and Negroes by Administrators, Exec utors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the First Tuesday in the mouth, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the Court-house door of the county in which the property is situate. Notices of these sales must be given in a pub lic Gazett c, forty day* previous to the day of sale. Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be given at least ten day* previous to the day of sale. Nolicos to Debtors and Creditors of an estate, must l>e published forty day*. Notice that application will be made to the Court of (Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must be pub lished weekly for tuo month*. Citations for Letters of Administration, must be pub lished thirty day* —for Dismission from Administration monthly, six months-r- for Dismission from Guardianship, forty day*. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be published monthly, for four month* —for compelling titles from Ex ecutors or Administrators, where a bond has been issued by the deceased, the full space of three months. jtzer* Publications will always be continued according to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise or dered. JOHN A. REYNOLDS, Publisher. THE Georgia Educational Journal, THE TEACHER'S FRIEND and PUPIL’S ASSISTANT, PUBLISHED WEEKLY IN QUARTO FORM, in FORSYTH, G A. at 82 00 for one year, or 81 00 i for 6 mo. I j Every 61u3c©OavS><aE>IA in Georgiu ought to huve this paper. Address ‘Georgia Educational Journal,’ Forsyth, Ga. i GEO. T. WILBURN, M. D. Editor. i Fob 18, 1858 ly DRS. COE &, LATIMER would inform their friends and patients that one of the firm will constantly remain in Greeneeboro’, and that the other will be found in the following places at the times specified below: White Plains, from March Ist to March 14th. Mount Zion, “ “ loth to “ 2bth. Oxford, “ April 12th to April 25th. Penfield, “ “ 2bth to May 9th. As this time table will be strictly adhered to, those who call early will be most likelv to receive attention. Feb 25th, 1858 THE subscriber, having no engagements, is ready to receive any offers to sell goods or keep books for any mercantile house or houses in Georgia, or to receive any offers from capitalists in the line, who mav wish an energetic man to buy and sell and attend to the details. Anv letters worthy of attention will be replied to. Address W. S. RAG BY. March -I —It The firm of j. m. bowles a co. is this day dissolved by mutual consent, Win. B. Seals rearing. The business will be continued by J. M. Bowles at the same Btand, where he will keep, at all times, a full supply of Family Groceries, and will lie ready and willing to serve his friends at very Short Pro fits for the CASH. J. M. BOWLES, Feb 25 WM. B. SEALS. JUST RECEIVED 1 A Large Stock of Family Groceries! C CONSISTING OF A All Grades Sugar and Coffee; Fine Sy runs and Molasses ; Good Apple Vinegar; Rice; Nos. 1, 2 and 3 Mackerel; A large lot of Hydraulic Candles, which cun be bought exceedingly low ; A variety of Pickles ; Maccaroni; Sago; Currants; Raisins and Candies; Table Salt; Soda; Pepper and Spices ; Chewing and Smoking Tobacco ; Pipeß ; Any quality of a Cigar ; I.urge lot of Jar Snuff; AH qualities of Soap; Drugs and Patent Medicines; Pt-rluniery—a choice lot. Byvcav of remark, I would say to the citizens and vi cinity of Penfield, that I am giving this business mv un divided attention ; and if they will give me a liberal pa tronage, 1 will save them the TROUBLE and LX PENSE of going farther. Penfield, Ga. March 9, 1857. J. M. BOWLES. LOST OR STOLEN. ALL persons are forewarned against trading for the following notes : A note on Win I’ Luckie for Seventeen Dollars and Forty Cents, dated in April or May last, and due the twenty filth December thereaf ter ; one on Wm Moore for T welve Dollars and Twen ty-five Cents, dated in May or June last, and due the twenty-fifth December thereafter; one on David Phelps of Hancock county for Twenty Dollars, dated in March last and due from date ; and one on John Mitchell of Mount Zion for Seventeen Dollars Twelve and a-half cents, dated in April last, and due the twenty-fifth of December thereafter. The above notes were made payable to the subscriber as guardian of free boys Jerry and Ben ; and the ma kerß of the same are requested to make payment to no feroon except myself or my order. THOMAS D. SANFORD. G/eenesboro’, March 4, 1858. THE CO-PARTNERSHIP heretofore existing under the name and style of SMITH Sc HALL, is thi&day dissolved by mutual consent. of the undersigned is authorised to settle the hoatnese of tfe late firm—one of whom may always be found at the old stand. WM. C. SMITH, Greenesboro, M’ch 1,1858 JAB. F. HALL. Inntiring from the business, wc beg to return our many friends and customers our thanks for their hand some and constant patronage, and would cordially to Uek its continuance to otu successor, Mr. W. Griffin. Kerch ls-2t ft. * H. VALUABLE BOOKS PCBIUSHFU) MV TH£ SOUTHERN BAP. PUB’S SOOT, No. 229 King Street, Charleston, SL C. liberal discount made to Booksellers, Cal par tcurs, Minister* and Sunday School*, fvr sash remittan ces, satisfactory note* or reference, ftp” SMITH A- WHILDEN. Depository Agents, trill mail any Book ordered from this list, ‘on receipt of the price annexed, A MANUAL OF THEOLOGY, Bv Rev J L Daog, DI) of Ga. Second edition. flvo 370 pp. Price $1 50. work of great value for all Christians, especially every Minister of the Gospel. From the Christian Review. ‘‘ The want has long been felt of a manual of Theol ogy adapted to the instruction of that large and rapidly increasing class, lay preachers, sabbath school teachers, colporteurs, young ministers who arc thrust into the work without time or means for more extensive study; in short, intelligent Christians, who have neither the time nor taste for protracted investigation. This book seems to us, after a careful examination, better suited to supply this want than any other we are acquainted with.” BOWEN’S CENTRAL AFRICA. Adventures and Missionary Labors in several coun tries in the interior of Africa, from 1810 to 1856, by Rev T J Bowen. 12mo 359 pp. With an engraved Map of Yoruba—Price one dollar. DR. HOWELL’S WORKS. The Way of Salvation —By R B C Howell, D D Fifth edition 12mo pp 336 —Price 75 cents. THE CROSS. By Rev R B C Howell, D D author of “ Way of Salvation,” “ Evils of Infant Baptism,” etc. 16n*o pp 248 —Price 50 Cents. THE COVENANTS. By Robert Boyt C Howell, D D pastor of the Main-st (Second Baptist) Church, Richmond, Va author of ‘‘ Terms of Communion,” ‘‘ The Deacon ship,” “Thewiyof Salvation,” “The Evils of Infant Baptism,” ‘‘The Cross,” 2kc. 12mo pp 141—price 45 cents. EVILS OF INFANT BAPTISM. By Rev RB C Howell, D D—Fifth edition. 16mo pp 310—price 50 cents. A DISCUSSION ON METHODIST EPISCOPACY, Between Rev J E Hamill, of the Alabama Confer ence, and Pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Tuskcgee, and Rev Samvel Henderson, pastor of the Tuskegee Baptist Church, and editor of the South-Western Baptist. Published at thz mutual request of Baptists and Methodists. 12mo pp 100 —price 81. THE GRACE OF GOD MAGNIFIED, By H E Taliaferro, junior editor of the South-Wes tern Baptist, Tuskegee, Ala —with an introductory essay, by Rev B Manly, D D. 16mo pp 96—price 25 cents. THE CASKET: A Collection of Church Music, comprising selections from the celebrated masters, besides a large amount of new music. By G O Robinson, of Charleston, P. C. assisted by J B Woodbury of New York, pp 352 —Second edition-price ono dollar. “We gladly commend to our readers this new book of sacred music.” SERMONS BY REV. J. J. FINCH, Os North Carolina, 12mo pp 314—With a portrait of the author, and memoir of his life—price 75 cents. BAPTISM AND TERMS OF COMMUNION, By Rev Richard Fuller, D D—Fourth edition, 16mo pp 252—price 50 cents. SOCIAL VISITS; Or. a few chesnuts for the children, and a Dinner for the Old Folks, by Unclf. Charles, author of Sim ple Rhymes—lßmo pp 229—price 10cents. DUTIES OF CHURCHES TO THEIR PASTORS, By Rev Franklin Wilson of Baltimore: third edi tion : 18mo pp 108—price 25 cents. DUTIES OF PASTORS TO THEIR CHURCHES, By Rev T G Jones, Norfolk, Va: second edition: 18nto pp 101 —Price 25 cents. DUTIES OF MASTERS TO SERVANTS : Three Prize Essays, by Rev II N McTyeire, Rev C F Sturgis and Rev A T Holmes: 16mo pp 151 —price 35 cents. BAPTISM IN ITS MODE AND SUBJECTS, By Professor F II Mell, University of Georgia: second edition: 16mo pp 300—price 50 cents. RESTRICTED COMMUNION; Or Baptism.an Essential Pre-Requisite to the Lord’s Supper, by Rev J B Taylor : fifth edition, revised and enlarged : lento cloth, pp 99—price 25 cents. TALES FOR THE YOUNG: First series. The Pious Mother and her Dutiful Daughter; or, the Lives of Emily Ross and Ellen Mervin, by the author of the Lost Found, and Clara C. Sec —35 cents. POETRY AND PROSE FOR THE YOUNG. The First and Last Oath, with other stories, by Car oline Howard—3o cents. BAPTIST PSALMODY. 10,000 copies sold. A selection of Hymns for the Worship of God, by Rev Basil Manly, DDand Rev Basil Manly, Jr—722 pp. Few Edition, 12mo sheep, 75 cents ; Roan,sl; Turkey, full gilt, $2,50; Turkey, fuli gilt, with clasp, 3,00; Velvet, with clasp, sto 5,50. Pocket Edition, 32m0 Sheep, 50 cents; Roan, 75 cents; Tuck, gilt edges, $1,25; Turkey, full gilt, 1,50; Turkey, full gilt, with clasp, 2 ; Velvet, several styles, from 3,50 to 4. NOTES AND QUESTIONS For the instruction of colored people, with appropriate Texts and Hymns, by Rev E T Winkler, pastor ot the First Baptist Church, Charleston, with an in troduction by James Tuppec, Esq. 18mo 134 pp— price 15c. SIMPLE RHYMES IN FAMILIAR CONVERSA TIONS FOR CHILDREN, By Rev C I) Mailary, D D I6mo—price 25 cents. March 18, 1858. fill IMF A GOOD lot of SALT in new sacks. March 18, 1858 J M. BOWLES. Georgia, greene county.—whereas the estate of William E. Walker, late of said county, deceased, is unrepresented— These are therefore to cite and admonish all persons concerned, to be and appear at the Court of Ordinary to be held in and for said county on the first Monday in May next, to show cause, if any they have, why the administration of said estate should not then be vested in the Clerk of the Superior C-ourt, or some other fit and proper person, in terms of the statute in such cases made and provided. Given under my hand at office in Greenesboro, March 18. 1858. EUGENICS L. KING, Ord. March 25 30d ADMINISTRATOR’S SALE. Agreeable to an order from the Ordinary of Gfeene county, will be sold before the court-house door in the town of Car rollton. Carroll county, on the first Tuesday in MAY next, the following lot of land, as the property of Thoa. Fambroueh, deceased: Lot No. Two hundred and Twenty-three, in the Tenth District of Carroll county, containing Two Hundred ana Two and one-half acres, be the same more or less. Sold for the benefit of tba hairs and creditors. Terms cash, i ftUtab 84-id * W, B. DBJGHTWELL, Adffl’r- THE ADOPTED ORGAN OF ALL THE TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS IN THE STATE. PEN FIELD, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MARCH 25, 1858. ‘editre sT ( V J J By Jlrs. in, E. Bryan. REST. HUMANITY cannot bear too much emotion,even of a pleasurable nature, amid the whirl of ex. citement and the overflowing of happiness; the very excess of joy take the breath away, as it were, and we pine for rest, for perfect quiet, as we turn away with a vague feeling of pain from the contemplation of the sublime Alpine peaks, to look for relief to tho ralm valleys below. And when the waves of passion and of grief go surging over the soul, the cry of the tortured spirit is for test —eternal rest, with never another emotion to stir the pulses of the silent heart. Our idea of Heaven is intimately connected with rest. Loud shouts of joy, constant uplifting of the voice in praise, and pteans of glory, do not belong to our idea of Heaven. We think of it as a haven of rest—as a refuge from the storms of life, where the hands shall be calmly folded above the peaceful breast; where the spirit shall be flooded with eternal joy and love, and give forth its silent praise, as the flowers do their fragrance — as the censor does its incense. 31. E. B. PLEASURE AND HAPPINESS. THE words are not synonymous, in the sense we frequently understand them. Pleasure springs from excitement; it is a wild, half delirious feel ing, similar to that following the inhalement of exhilerating gas—the beadod fi*oth on the cup of joy, transient in its influence as it is violent, and often succeeded by regret and repentance. Far preferable is that calm tranquility of feeling, which wo term happiness, the peace that broods over the spirit like the white wings of an angel. What were the j leasure of last night’s revel, the music, the gayety, tho exhilerating dance, coun terbalanced by this morning’s lassitude, disgust and it may be*, bitter and unavailing regret for words lightly spoken, for acts thoughtlessly com mitted uuder the influence of excitement, and which cannot now be recalled. Tho night passed at the bedside of a suffering friend, tho quiet gatherings around the home fire side, with books and music and cheerful conver sation, are far more pleasant to remember. The cup < f happiness, though not so intoxicating in its effects as that of pleasure, leaves behind, no lingering bitterness, no lurking poison; there are no thorns to wound, when the roses have faded. M. E. B. THE GRANDMOTBER. NO family group—no Christmas gathering—that crooning pleasure of the year, can be com plete without the presence of the grandmother— the gentle, placid, white-haired dame, with her smiling face, her silver-rimmed spectacles, her snowy kerchief and black silk apron. llow she is loved and revered by the host of blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked juveniles, who call her grandma, lay their curly heads on her knee, and whom no amount of scolding and shaming on the part of mama, can keep away from her house. It is grandma, whose busy fingers knit the nice lamb’s wool socks and gloves, that keep them warm du ring winter school-hours; and they are never so happy, as when permitted to spend a holiday at her little brown house, whore there are woods full of rabbits and partridges for the elder ones, and hills rich with chinquepins, and old fields full of grass and sparrows for the traps of the younger—to say nothing of the stream at the foot of the hill, where they may make flutter-mills, sail pine-bark skiffs, and fish to their heart’s con tent. At home, (on account of the superior claims of baby and the ‘‘grown up ” brother or sister, just returned home with a deal of college impor tance and boarding-school airs,) they are not properly appreciated ; but at grandmama’s it is different. Instead of being shut up to commit to memory a chapter in the testament for return ing home with rents torn in frocks and jackets, by precipitous descents from fences and plum trees, grandma tenderly bids them dry their brim ming eyes, Saying cheerfully, that she is sure it can be “fixed up” as good as ever; and in place of telling them to go to Jane for a potato when they complain of being hungry, her jar of black berry jam is untied, (grandma is famous for her preserves,) and white loaf broad—golden butter and creamy milk make up the delicious repast eat en at her feet, seated in the little chair with her favorite cat on tho mat near by. And then the little, quaint, blue and gilt sprigged cups and saucers and tiny silver spoons! it almost made poetry of eating to use such dainty, fairy-like things, especially when sitting in that vine-hung piazza, with the bees humming drowsily among the beds of pinks and carnations beneath. Oh! memories of just such a brown cottage, with its trcllisedpword beans and morning glories, and of just such a dear, blessed grandmother rise before mo now. That quiet, country home, with its mulberry trees, and the rich green fields lying around it; it was the scene of many happy hours of my early life and my refuge in girlhood, when tired of gay company and idle flirtations. The low meadow that lay just beyond the garden, and tho creek that ran through it, fringed with wil lows and rippling over half covered muscle shells, the mulberry trees in the front yard, beneath the shadow of whose broad leaves the rich butter was churned on summer mornings, tho hay-stacks with their inexhaustible stores of hen’s neats, the dear little cottage, with its spotless floors, its white curtains and chintz lounges, and the mistress ol this pleasant domain, flying her shining knitting needles in her snowy cap and gingham apron, as she sat in her usual soat by the doorway—all these are pictures of the past that will livo in my mem ory forever. Blessings on the aged! with their gentleness, -their charity, their simplicity and their kind, lov ing hearts. There is a beauty more touching more chaste and spiritual, than the beauty o youth. It is the beauty of the soul, that outlast ing mere external charms, beams forth from the faded face, “ Bright, and more brightly as it nears its goal.” _ M. E. B. Old Maid’s Comfort.— A writer on this subject says (with rather doubtful comfort): “And though at its end it may be somewhat lonely j though a servant’s and not a daughter’s arm may guide the failing step; though most likely it will be stran gers only who come about the dying bed, close the eyes that no husband ever kissed, md draw the shroud kindly over the poor withered breast where no child’s head has ever lain; still, suoh a life is not to bo pitied, for it is a completed life It has fulfilled its appointed oourse, and returns to the Giver of all breath, pure as he gave it.— Nor will he forget it when he oounteth up his fowali” > JVTTWi> THE PEASANT GIRL TO HER LO7ER. BY MARY E. BRYAN. Sleep darling, sleep! Thou wast up this morn while the east was gray ; Thou has borne the burden and heat of the day ; And now, while fierce is the noontide ray, And a stillness deep As the holy hush of the calm midnight Hangs like a spell o’er yon wooded height, Sleep darling, Sleep! I have bound thy brow With the poppies we sowed among the corn. In the shade, where their blushing bloom was born. They have kept still fresh the dews of morn, And their coolness now, They shall shed like balm o’er thy forehead fair, And through the damp curls of thy golden hair. There is no breeze To bid the silvery poplars gleam And faint, as the music of a dream Comc3 the drowsy plaint of the winding stream ’Mid the alder trees ; While the young corn stands with twisted blades. And the oxen pant ’ncath. the cooling shades. Rest dearest, rest! Low hum the bees o’er the wild thyme bed; Cool is the shade that the larches spread. I will sing to thee and lay thy head On my own true breast; I will part from thy brow the clustering hair, And murmur low in thy wearied ear, Rest dearest, rest! Thomasville. ALICE MOORE. BY MARY E. BRYAN. Draw the curtain close; it is over now, And life’s fitful dream ;3 past, And the throbbing heart and burning brow Are calm and still at last. This eve, when the clouded, autumn sky Was red with the setting sun, The light went out from her starry eyes, And her stormy life was done. Away from her brow the tresses part, Fold her white hands on her breast— Oh, joy ! for the wild and wayward heart Has won its goal of rest. Rest, rest! for life’s mockery of mirth; Its hopes and its fears are o’er; Ne'er again shall thy proud feet scorn tho earth, Oh ! beautiful Alice Moore. Yes, fair in thy deathly paleness now As the marble gods of Greece; Yet, there's traced on that arching lip and brow, Death’s stillness, but not its peace. Never earthly voice shall bid again Thy heart’s chilled current flow; Yet, still, the pride that has been thy bano Is throned on thy brow of snow. The storm of passion that o’er thee swept, Left its trace on heart and brain, And thy haughty eyesm secret wept Hot tears, like the summer rain. Bravely and well did’st thou bear thy part, ’Mid the cold frowns of the world; But the blight fell deep on thy youthful heart, Though tny lip with scorn was curled. Yet. no dream of this shall haunt thy rest, For the dark fiend’s power is o’er, And no love may waken thy pulseless breast. Oh, beautiful Alice Moore! A fiery planet was quenched in gloom, And a dark scroll sealed for aye, When the sun of thy stormy life went down, At the clctoe of that autumn day. Thomasville. CONFESSIONS OF A RECLUSE: A STORY OF PASSION AND RETRIBUTION. BT MARY E. BRYAN. “ She was a child and I was a child, In that kingdom by the sea ; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Ana bell Lee.” iiT WAS born,” said the strange recluse, “on tike X shore of the very ocean whose wave? are now breaking at our feet. Its grand and gray expanse was the first object on which my infant eye rested; its waters were the only baptismal font I ever knew; its hoarse murmurs the only cradle hymn that soothed the slumbers of my infancy. No mother's kiss was ever pressed upon my forehead; no mother’s blessing ever hallowed my life, for she died at my birth and I was left alone with my father, a dark, pale, silent man, with the shadow of some mysterious sorrow upon his brow, and a strange barrier between him and his fellow men. He pursued his humble occupa tion—that of a fisherman —with mechanical as siduity, for his thoughts seemed never to dwell upon his employment, and there was ft grace in his movements, a polish in the lew sentences he uttered, that betrayed intercourse with the world of refinement and eloquence. But I know noth ing of his history or of his kindred; I only knew that ho must have received a polished education, for thero were books of foreign languages—old Greek and Latin authors and works ot French and German philosophy—among the mouldy volumes in the dark book-case, with its baize curtain and heavy carvings. These books, a-s I grew older, 1 learned to love, for I was a quick pupil and my ‘father a patient, quiot teacher, who taught me seemingly from a sense of duty, and not because the task afforded him the least gratification. The place which gave mo birth, and where I passed my childhood, was a rocky point of land jutting out into the sea, with the rolling, white topped billows of the ocean on one side, and on the other the calmer waters of the bay, into which flowed the river upon whose banks, at the dis tance of several miles up its stream, was situated the town which afforded a market to the hardy fishermen whose huts were scattered along the shores of the bay. With these my father never assimilated, for they were coarse, uneducated men with whom he could havo no feeling in com mon. Ho moved among them like oue prohib ited by a spell from human sympathy or affection, always with that strange sorrow in his dreamy eyes. I never knew him to smile, and never but once to manifest the least affection for me. It was when I had fallen overboard in a terrible gale that overtook us, while we were out shooting curlews. When I recovered consciousness after he had rescued me, it was from the warmth of the kisses ho was showering upon-my inanimate face, while he held me pressed passionately to his heart. My childhood would have been passed in utter seclusion, had it not been for one circumstanoe. When I had l-eached my tenth year, a strange ship with a foreign crew stopped for a short time in port and went away, leaving among us a young woman with a child of five or six years, who took possession of a vaoant fisher’s hut, and was after wards well known to U3 uuder the appellation of “o azy Agues,” although she was only sufficiently aberrant in intelleot to make her wild and eooen tric. She gained a livelihood by selling fish and making beautiful ornaments in shell of various odors and oombined with exquisite taste. Evi dently she was no stranger to the sea, for in storm and rain her little skiff oould be seen darting among the rocks like a phantom, defying wind and waves, with her stately figure half shrouded in streaming hair standing composedly at the stern, and the wild, elf-like form of her ehild ever at her side. There were traces of surpassing beauty in her dark, fierce countenance, shaded by the long tresses that lay in 9bining black coils on her shoulders and around her flexile waste. There was also a peculiar grace, even in her abrupt, un certain movements that told a tale of higher birth than her plobian occupation would indi cate. It was believed that she was the betrayed victim of the Spanisli-looking officer, who had been with her on the foreign vessel, and who had left a purse of gold in the hands of the child at .parting. I had seen him myself, and could tes. tify to a wonderful resemblance borne to him by the little Inez. She had the same i*ich, dark complexion, seemingly surcharged with warm blood; tho same marvelously beautiful eyes, fringed by heavy lashes; the same proud mouth and hair of that peculiar, purplish blackness so much sought for by couisseurs of beauty and curl ing like his, in l’ich, tangled masses around her gypsoy face. This radiant child was the first vision of beauty that brightened my lonely childhood. She was always dressed in gorgeous colors, for in decora ting her, her mother had given full play to her rich imagination. Inez appeal'd an embodied sun beam, flashing in robes of scarlet, crimson and orange that would have extinguished a paler loveliness. Often they were of coax-se material, torn and soiled, but always bright and setting ofi with peculiar fitness her i-ich, satinny complex ion. She was a strange chi and, changeful and ca pricious in her moods, full of poetiy and passion and brilliant, but chaotic elements, that onl\ waited soma master influence to arrange them into order and harmony. She was the victim alternately of her mother’s utter neglect and spasmodic affection; for sometimes for days wild Agnes would never notice her child by word oi look, but would sit in a dreamy abstraction, < r wander along the shore, weaving garlands of sea weed and moss, or singing fragments of plaintive songs— ‘ Chance strains; saved from her life’s lost hours, And hid in her heart like the dew in flowers.’ Then she could not bear the child to be out o’ her presence and would shower upon her the most passional 3 kisses and embraces, and igain a wild, bitter mood would come over her, and she would drive Inez from her—would shun all co r panionship and fly at the approach of a mans from some wild beast, whose savage propensitier she had reason to fear. It was then that the child clung to me; and during the dark hours of poor Agnes, which some t'mes lasted for days, Inez was dependent upon me for care and protection, and frequently fox necessary food. She loved me with all the fervor of her impassioned nature, and I, my God 1 how I learned to love this girl, with all the wild idol atry of a h< art that had nothing else to w rsl in. We were constantly together; we gathered shells for her mother’s work along the beach and wove baskets of rushes, seated upon the rocks with the sunlit waves sparkling at our feet; we realized the awful majesty of an over-ruling power, as we stood, listening to the careering storm, watching the white crested billows and the red eyes o f the lightning, and hearing with hushed hearts the footsteps of the thunder reverberating o 1 the rocky coast. Once I risked my own life to save hers, and snatched her from the very jaw. of a pursuing shark, when she had ventured too fai in bathing. Often she fell asleep in my ai'ms, and I would hold her there for hours, never weary of gazing upon the closed lids with their silken fringe and the parted lips, whose dewy bright ness rivalled the brilliancy of wet coral. I taught her much that I had learned of my father and from the pages of the musty volumes, and she found in poetry an interpretation of the oracles of her own heart. The mythology we studied to gether threw a wild romance over the loveliness of nature, giving a living beauty to the grand old ocean and making the over-arching sky a mighty volume whereon the sages of old have written their wondrous legends in letters of gold, thus ‘ Linking forever to the tiniverse The memory of their heroes.’ She would call mo her neptune, and she was my amphytrite, and I would braid bright crowns of gaudy-colored sea-weed for my ocean queen. A painful incident broke the quiet monotony of my life on the shores of Nlelvin bay. My father died after a brief but severe illness, which he bore with his usual silent stoicism. He died calmly, tranquilly, and I knew then by the fervor of his last embrace and the earnestness with which he commended his orphan child to God, what a warm heart had beat beneath his cold exterior. He sleeps within sound of the ocean he loved so well, and I thank God that he did not live to see the fate to which his son was destined. After this my heart clung yet more closely around the child Inez. Talk of children being incapable of loving ! it is false. The purest and holiest fire ever kindled upon tho altar of the heai't is the vestal flame, of which young love is the kindling spirit—the priest upon whose x'adiant brow the glow of pas sion is chastened by the moonlight innocence of youth. Thus purely did I love this beautiful child, so utterly dependent upon me for protec tion. She was my heart’s one idel. I had no thought of the future that did not centre around her—no hope—no aspiration that was not inspired by my love for her. For her sake I wished to attain wealth and posi tion, that I might place her in the cii*cles to which her beauty and intelligence entitled her. It was with this desire, now grown into a settled purpose, that in my sixteenth year I joined, as a common sailor, the crew of the Dtolphin, a ship bound on a long foreign cruise. I pass over the parting, with the only being I loved on earth, or who possessed the least affection for me. The brave-hearted child, seeing my distress, put aside her own grief and spoke cheei'fully. and hopefully of our re-uniou as she stood- —a picture for the admiring sea-men—with her arms around me and the rough winds blowing back her tangled curls. I was absent six years, and during that time had been promoted to the rank of first mate of the Dolphin, and had also, by some luoky spec ulations in traffic, suooee<iediin amassing con erable wealth. Through ail my wanderings sweet face of Inez was ever present no ®‘ looked down upon me frm the ana r c fringed with ermine that floated in the blue ti-opic skies and gleamed up from t o m mL, a. mounted Jo ft vrith my old friend and favorite, the foretop gallant mart, I gazed down into the starred waters. [to BX OOKWRPSn-J There* frequently mo* >fe iu alroMthan there could be in a smile: Ai Bttftuy I rebuke and chasten” ED TOR AND PIiOI'RHTOR. VOL. XXIV. NUMBER 11 A Hind to Take. St CtAS. MACXAY. You’re rich, and yet you are not protkftd ; You are not selfish, hard, or vain ; You look upon the common crowd With sympathy, and not disdain ; You'd travel far to share your gold With humble sorrow unconsoled ; You’d raise the orphan from the dust, And help the sad and widowed mother; Give me your hand—you shall—you must— I love you as a brother. You’re poor, and yet you do not scorn Or hate the wealthy fr their Wealth; You toil contented night and morn, And prize the gift of strength and health i You’d share your little with a friend, And what you cannot give, you’d lend ; You take humanity on trust. And see some merit in another: Give me your hand—you shall—you nauet— I love you as a brother. A Beautiful I'AragrapU. The following lines are taken from Sir Humphrey Davy’s Salmonia : “I envy no quality of the mind and intellect in others—be it genius, power, wit or fancy —but if I could choose what would be most delightful, md I believe most ueeful to me, I should prefer a firm religious belief to any other blessing ; lor it makes life a discipline of goodness; breathes new hopes, varnish es and thorns over the decay, the of exis tence, the most gorge us of all light; awakens life even in death, and from corruption and decay rails up to beauty and divinity ; makes an instrument of fortune and shame the ladder of ascent to Paradise ; and far above ill combination or earthly hopes, calls up the most de ightful visions of palms and amaranths, the gir Jens of blest, and security of everlasting joys, where the sensu alist and skeptic view only gloom, decay, annihilation and despair.” Beautiful ( lose to a Lit*. An old age that is enviable is a rare thing ; and the following account of ihc last years of ‘he life of the fa mous scholar Alberius Magnus, (given in Segliart’s uifeofhim) is very be.utiful:—“The story is, that •vhen he was past eighty, he was lecturing, as usual, to . t vast audience in the Schools of Cologne. His mem >ry suddenly failed him, and he came to a standstill—a hing so unusual with him, as to cause great astonish ment among his hearers. After a long and dis'ress i ig pause, he made the following extraordinary disclo sure :—That in his youth he had devoted himself to learning with every faculty of his mind and soul. What he could not m ister by elfor sos intellect, he was in the habit of extorting by fervent prayer. That on one of these occasions the blessed virgin had appeared to him, and had granted his request once for all. That he had been endowed wi h a miraculous scientific acquirement irom that time forw ird. Bu’ that, to in tke the giit in nocuous to his soul, the Virgin that had at the same time promised that before his deith all his argumenta tive power should be taken from him, that God might take him to himself in the simplicity of infancy. ‘This is now accomplished: therefore I now know that my time is come. I make public confession before you, dear friends, that I believe all >he ar-icles of the Chris tian faith ; and if I have stid or written anything not conformable thereto, or shall hereafter do so, let it he counted for nought.’ Thus saying, he quitted the ros trum, amid the tears of the assemblage, and lived the ramainder of his life with the undemanding of a child offive years old, and the harmlessness ofa dove.” A Comfortable Establishm en t. A correspondent of the New York I -ps -.dent thus describes the domain of the Duk3 of I\r r .ishire : “The domain of the Duke of Devon. 2 w-ould cover one ol our largest counties. Thepark immediately sur rounding the pilace is 11 miles in circumference, and contains 3,oooacres. The principle gatden for vegeta ble!, fruits, green houses, &c.. is 35 acres. There are 30 green houses, each from 50 to 75 feet long. We went into three or four containing nothing but pineapples, ripe; others contain nothing but melons and cucumbers. One peach tree on the glass wall measures 51 feet in wid h and fifteen ft e - high, and bears 1 000 peaches; it 19 the largest in the world. The grape houses, five or six in all, 600 feet long, and such grapes /We saw pine* tpples weighing ten or filteen pounds etch. One green house had only figs, anoher only mushrooms. But what sh ill be said of the great conservatory, filled with every variety of tropical plants ? It is one ol the wonders of the world; it covers an acre of ground, is 100 feet high, of oval shape, and cost SSOO OOO; it is heated by steam and hot water pipes, which in all are six miles in length; the apparatus consumes 600 tons of coal in one year. We saw banana trees 20 feet high,'with cluster* of fruit, sugar-cane, coffee trees, bamboo, and, in short, ‘ every trouical plant that can be named. Several of tho palm trees are from 50 to 60feet in height. The smoke of the immense fire underneath is cetried is pipes under the ground, to an outlet in the woods. The coal is brought in a tunnel 600 yards under the ground. One fountain throws a jet of water to the height of 275 feet. By ahd by.—“By and by” is the bridal bell of all the world. It is wrung by the hands of Hope, and pro claims the wedding of the heart to-day w ith the Miss of to-morrow. , When we were children we fancied the school-bell rang out an articulate “come to school.,” or “go and pay”—“go-and-play.” More realand audible beats the universal heart, “ by and by ” —“ by and by.” Like the arrow that the fairy bore on, when the fores of the bow was spent; like the cloud and pillar that went before the host in the desert, is “by and by;” there’s a promised land, and a thousand summer isles beyond it. Whether it beats beneath Ishmaei's dusky tentment, or the snowy billow’ of Circassian bosoms, it is forever blest, and forever by by. Heir the story of the child which went for'h into the mountain ravine. While the child wandered there, he called aloud to break the loneliness, and heard a voice which called to him in the same tone. He called again, and, as he thought, the voice mocked him. Flushed with anger, he rushed to find the boy who had insuited him, but could find none. He then called out to him in anger, and with abusive epi'hets—all of which were faithfully returned to him. Choking with rage, thecnild ran to his mother, and complained that a boy in the woods had abused and insulted him with many vile words. But the mother took the child by the hand and said : “ My child, these names were but the echoes of thine own voice. Whatever thou didst #ah was re turned to thee from the hill-side. Hadst thou called out pleasant words, pleasant words had returned jo thee. Let this be thy lesson through life. Ihe ®rW will U the echo of thine own spirit. Ireat thy ‘ellowa wnh unkindness, and they will answer wi h ““^ness, with love, and thou .halt h? ve . lo , VC .halfnevs have a shine from thv spirit, and thou “halt never nave a Sate; cU £ she speaker, is tfa. child in the mountain passes-and every-man and every woman is that child. Woman’s rower. “Nor steel nor fire itself hath power. T ,'ke woman in her. or.querirg hour. Be thou but fair-mankind adore thee! Smile, end a world is weak before thee! Th, noet has disclosed the whole secret of woman’s 1 ” sTL newer Fair in her virtue, smiling in her Co Sss ng sL wields an influence which mailed war rlor never could. Her strength is in ‘ her graces, her weapon is love ; and her power is reus’less when those Tre combined with modest mem and dictated by con- woman is much superior to man, as affection is superior to intellect. Man represents the understanding of the universe, and woman the will; man the mind, woman the soul; man the reason, wo man the heart. The power of obeervaion and reflec tion are cold, useless appendages to the human being, unless warmed into exercise and attached 10 good ob jects by the feelings and sentiments of the affectuous mind. How little m the world do we think, judge and now, in comparison with what we feel! Man may do •m'gh'v hings in the intellectual advancement of the world; but “ What I most prize in woman la her affections, 1.0 nor u..eiu.u ! The in ellect is finite, but the afo -’ions Are infinite and cannot bo exhausted.” List! that is the sound of coming Stealing along the air. 1 must gather round my tempi#* This weight of braided hair, A id trust to growing darkneta. And evening shadows dim, To hide with their wit-gs the tri-es wi toon I’ve shod lor him.