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LITERARY *■ i'mpepnce tfrusadcr. PENFIELD, GEORGIA. L. LINCOLN VEAZEY, Editor. J tHURSDAY ‘mORNINO, iTPRIET 1, 1858. - 7 ~ . The Bninbridge Argv.< comes to us this week in a. new dress, enlarged and much improved. Its enterprising Proprietor, W. M. Russel, seems ; determined to spare no pains in his efforts toren-! der this journal worthy of patronage, and under j its present able corps of editors, we have no doubt j i the Argus will be one of the handsomest and best conducted papers in the State. Horror’s Magazine, for April, contains a continu- 1 at ion of “Tropical Journoyings,” and sketches of j Siberia, both elegantly illustrated, and highly en- j tert&ining. There are other papers with attrac-; tive headings, which wo have not yet read. Price of single copy, STOP; 5 copies, SIO.OO. The Southern Enterprise, edited and published by L. C. Bryan, Esq., Thomasville, Ga., again makes its appearance after a six months sleep, lie re- ; news his acquaintance with his readers in a veiy friendly “Unc,” which is, however, rathor too long continued, and not quite sufficiently dignified. , 4 \V£ learn, says the Ringgold Express, that some weeks ago a youth by the name of Paine, going to school in Lafayette, Ga., was stabbed in the abdomen by a school-mate by the name of Hunt, and badly injured. It is thought that Paine will recovqj. Report says that Hunt was wholly to blame in the affair. Tite Southern Cultivator, for April, comes to us well filled with good matter, mostly original pa pers. Apart from its value as an agricultural journal, the Cultivator contains much that would be of interest to the general reader. Published by W. S. Jones, Augusta, Ga., at SI.OO a-year. He who is incapable of receiving pleasure from the beauties of nature, is dead to one of the rich est sources of enjoyment which life presents. lie may not be a poor liypocondriac who goes mo ping through the world in a state of inconsolable iniseA'* There are well-springs of happiness hid den away in the heart, which can yield perpetu al joy. But these may he purified, and anew brightness imjiarted to their effervescence by scenes of external beauty. No one can have a keen relish for all that is lovely in nature, with out having his internal pleasures increased in a tenfold degree. ’ > It is a fact worthy of note, that every full moon during the present year occurs on or after the twentieth of the month. An alarming epidemic has been, for sometime, prevailing at Charlottesville among the students of the Virginia University. The Board of Direc tors have, in consequence, suspended the exerci- 1 ses until May. A number of deaths have oc curred, and almost half of the students had left before the suspension took place. There is no surer mark of merit in a man, than ’ for him to be abused by the worthless and vile, V\ lienever lie is lauded by such characters, he may well suspect himself of having done some thing worthy of censure. Against him who is conscious of rectitude, and firm in the discharge of duty, the ragings of the wicked are impotent. i fie is clad in an armor which presents no joint! through which the envenomed barbof the calum niator can indict a wound. b The Court-house of Lee county, with all the county records, were destroyed by fire on Friday, ! the lyth inst. The Spring Term of the Superior Court, for the county, which was to have com menced on Monday last, in eonsequence of this serious accident, has been adjourned to the first Monday in April. A lady of our acquaintance, who, in addition to other excellences, says the Boston Journal, has | the great and uncommon merit of sincerity, re i cently received an invitation to a fashionable ■party, to which she returned the following reply. | We recommend it to others who lack the sin i cerity and courage to decline such invitations: J Boston, Jan. 20, 1858. [ Mg Deo*’ Mrs. T. —My husband and I are tired !pf evening parties and morning headaches. I (must be honest. Jane and Mary Ann say that it is “ a horrid bore,” but they will “ accept with pleasure.” I am sorry that they feel obliged to resort to such hypocrisy. Besides, you know >you don’t want us. You only think you must |inake a pfirty because you have been invited to • others to which you did not want to go. When lit is over, you and your guests will rejoice equally. ■Allow me to make a suggestion. Why not con fer a favor upon yourself and them, and upon , those who would appreciate the kindness, by giv ing up the party, and by investing the money intended for wine, oysters and low-necked dresses, in solid.nourishment for those to whom a biscuit (would *be a luxury, and whose bare shoulders would no longer shiver were they covered with comfortable shawls? Truly and sincerely Yours. JTYemarkable Works of Human Labor.—Nineveh It was 15 miles long, 8 wide, and 40 miles round, ivith a wall 100 feet High and thick enough for 3 chariots abreast. Babylon was 50 miles within the walls, which were 75 feet thick, and 300 feet high, with 100 brazen gates. The temple of Di ana, at Ephesus, was 420 feet to the support of the room. It was 100 years in building. The largest of the pyramids is 481 feet high, and G 53 bn the sides; it s base covers 11 acres. The stones Tare about 3b feet in length, and the layers are 208. -It employed 330,000 men in building it. The labyrinth in Egypt, contains 300 chambers and 12 halls. Thebes, in Egypt, presents ruins 27 miles round, and 100 gates. Carthage was 23 miles round. Athens was 25 miles round, and contained 359,000 citizens and 400,000 slaves. The temple of Delplios w r as so rich in donations, that it was plundered of $500,000, and Nero car ried away 200 statues. The walls of Remo were 13 miles tfound. ’ IV e very justly think of these evidences of hu*. | man industry with wonder and admiration ; yet, ptliey are not really so gigantic, and do not display such marks of skill as those of modern | date. Were London, Paris or New York deserted P now, their sites would, we doubt not, present I grander ruins two thousand years hence than ■Thebes, Athens or Persepolis. True, in modern ? architecture, elegance and commodiousness have k been more sought for than strength. For this treason, many of our most splendid buildings p would not stand the ravages of a hundred years without frequent repairs. But the most wonderful thing connected with ■these works <3s-antiquity, was the laborious man iac er of their construction. They were builtbv the strength of muscle and sinew alone, without the aid of machinery. It is probable that no labor fcaving apparatus, even of the simplest kind, had ■been invented when the walls of Babylon, and | the pyramids ofYgypt were erected. Every stone, I piece of timber or handful of mortar were taken Lnd carried to their places by hand, without any thing to lessen the effort or expedite the pro* H-ss. When all this is considered, we may well Ar that these gigantic structures are worthy of tg lastingly known as wonders of the worid. f|?H£ majority of mankind employ half their JL lives in endeavors to make others believe they are what they are not. This may seem a sweep, ing charge of hypocrisy; yet, observation and a little lefleetion will convince any one of its truth. They who profess to unbosom themselves to their dearest friends, conceal, or attempt to conceal, much of their real feelings, sentiments and opin ions. This may not be done in the studied man ner of the designing hypocrite; it is rather a principle of instinct which only the strongest ef fort can overcome. Persons very seldom become thoroughly ac quainted with each other, even by the most fre quent and intimate companionship. The rela tions of husband and wife, parent and child, bro thers and sisters, are all calculated to impart to the several parties the knowledge of many points in each other’s characters, of which the world, at large, is ignorant; yet, much—very much is here concealed. Many a secret repining—many fond hopes, anxious desires, proud aspirations are ne ver uttered by the tongue, or spoken forth by the •ye; many an unholy passion has long and fierce ly striven for mastery over the spirit, the noise of which conflict never reached mortal ears; many an one, dark and hideous, has been cherished in secret, until it converted into a mass of vile cor ruption the heart which presented an outward form of loveliness and beauty. Such instances may be rare—we do not know how’ rare ; for Hea ven spares all but itself that fearful sight, a na ked human heart. We have heard of persons whose words were true exponents of their thoughts; in other words, who speak just what they think. We have never met such a character. There be, indeed, those who wiil give a true expression of opinion at sometimes, about something; but the person who will express himself unreservedly on all subjects, and anywhere, is, and must always remain a myth. Persons, even the most sincere, daily say and act in a manner, which, if fully analyzfd, will be found false. This they do, not only when the rules of society seem to require it, but when they are under no necessity- Flattery is an art in which one must be accomplished before he can lay any claims to polite breeding. “I never flat ter,” is often the opening remark to a strain of high-flown compliments which would stain the cheek of modesty with blushes of ingenious shame. These are delivered voluntarily, often entirely uncalled for, and in many cases as indelicate as insincere. “Believe nothing you hear, and only half you see” is the advice of someone which w r e have seen floating about for some years. I t may seem rather extravagant, yet, it is not wanting in sense. The eye may be deceived as well as the ear, though not so easily, and consequently, not so often. “Actions speak louder than words,” because the motive whence they proceed may be more readi ly and correctly inferred. Often do they expose the utter want of truth and sincerity in the lan guage of the tongue, and even by this imperfect test we learn that not more than a third of what people say do they actually and conscientiously believe. •*<*• TII E publishers of Harpers Magazine, are com plaining bitterly of the editor of the New York Tribune, for having copied from their col umns the Virginians by Thackeray, the advanced sheets of which they had purchased at a high rate. The rage for this new work must have been created by the previously acquired reputation of the author of Pendennis* as there is nothing in it calculated to excite high admiration. But it should rather meet with unmitigated censure from the American press, and lie unread in the book stores where it is offered for sale. In the part of his plot w hick he makes Washington per form, he grossly misrepresents the character of that great and good man. lie is made to bear, unresented, the taunts and insults of a . purse proud bragadocio, and this because of his admi ration for a vain, weak-minded, supercilious wo. man. What American does not feel outraged at liberties thus taken with a name which, from in f incy, he has been taught to venerate? The work is the more pernicious from being professedly one of fiction, which few think of closely scrutinizing, and thus dangerous errors become imperceptibly instilled into the minds of the masses. Thackeray may, if he chooses, enter the adyta of British Royalty, and with inconoclastic fury, deface the most sacred emblems of majesty. To his satirical lectures on the “Four Georges,” we have nothing to say. Like everything else gotten up for mere effect, they doubtless contain some truth and much falsehood. But we cannot pa tiently suffer him thus to deal with one whose name is a “mountain of light” in our national history. The purity of his fame has remained un spotted, either by the calumny of enemies, or the overwrought zeal of his admirers. His claims to greatness has stood the test of three-quarters of a century, without the discovery of the slight est flaw ; and, perhaps, his name had been banded down to posterity with undiminished glory, had not this brilliant humorist of “Vanity Fair” learned that young George Washington could, with impunity, make him a butt for ridicules at his social parties. We never did, and cannot now, imagine the father of his country occupying such a position. Mr. Thackeray, we think, made a great blunder in choosing a historical personage, so well known, as a character for a novel. Almost every Ameri can is acquainted with each incident of his life, from his magnificent leap in the days of his youth ful manhood, to the surrender of Yorktown. To dramatize such a character, and impart to it fresh ness and interest, required more skill than the distinguished novelist possessed. Tn the attempt, lie has failed—most signally failed; and in the failure, has produced a book which none of our countrymen can read without a feeling of honest indignation, and of contempt for the author. J no. 11. Rice, Esq., lias refired from the edito rial management of tho Gassville Standard. It will henceforth be conducted by Messrs. B. 11. Leeke and B. F. Bennet. The Standard has been quite a handsome sheet during Gen. Rice’s edi torship. For the Crusader. “WHAT IS BEAUX?” DEDICATED TO TOM P BY CLARA CLIFTON. “ La! ma, what is beaux ? they say sister has got beaux in the parlor; please let me go and see what sort of things they is.” So said a little bright-eyed fairy of five summers, as she ran hur riedly to her mother, full of wonder and excite ment. A few years from now, little one, and you will not require mama’s aid to explain “ what is beaux;” let sixteen summers work their changes on that bright face—lengthen out those tiny curls, expand and heighten that petit form, and then you will learn what beaux ai e. Wait until school days are over, and you have been to your first party—rested your little hand upon a coat sleeve, and had a pair of blue eyes bent lovingly upon you, and a volume of nonsense whispered in your ear; wait until the little white-winged messen gers of love come and nestle in your bosom—they, with numerous notes and poems extolling your many charms, will whisper what beaux are. Too soon will you learn it from the many dis appointments and vexations these same beaux cause you, there will come warm summer days when you will long to “make up” the sleep lost the night before, by an afternoon nap; you will prepare for a good “resting spell,” and justas vou enter the foiry land of dreams, a ring at die bell, and a smooth, enamelled card marked. Dr. Fitz Dandy, or some other dandy, will cause you to trown and tear the card into pieces, yawn again, ‘ and then like a martyr, array yourself for his ad miring eyes, and walk smilingly to the stake at ! which you are to be tortured. With a smile and j ft graeelul “certainly, with pleasure,” you accept j his invitation to preaching after tea; and in slew : moments afterwards, a fine looking and more favored dandy sends in a card containing the j same invitation, you bite your lips, and wish the hrst in the land of nowhere, or that his shiny ■ boots might pinch oerns on his toes for that same walk to church. There is even now, little one, a vacancy in your . heart ifi&t parents, brother, sister nor friend can j fill, land as years pass by. that vacancy will enlarge, I and you will sigh to have it filled. Not long will von associate with black coats, white vests and ! whiskers, before someone of these beaux will j have crept in and filled the vacant niche : then j will you know with sorrow, what beaux are. Be-! fore you are hardly aware what it is- that so fills your heart, you are a captive—eunids arrow has pierced your heart, and for a time, your life is one of restless uncertainty, a feverish excitement that you long to get over with, you remember “thinks I to myself,” and wish, as did the hero in that old story, you hail some medicine to cure the strange sickness and the “bumping” at your heart; you will remember all the love stories you have read, and how well they all ended, and hope your love story will have the same final, even though your heart does sink with despondency, and your bright eyes flash with jealousy, as your handsome school-mate passes by, leaning on your loved one’s arm ; you will catch a word that fills you with doubt and fear, and then you will real ize what beaux are. There are many true hearted, noble specimens of beaux, and should you be so fortunate ns to have one of these fill your heart as you do his, then will your life boas it now is, a pleasant dream, bright as the babbling brook that runs over the white pebbles in the old green wood, where you play with your little friends. But bitter as the waters of Marah will be love’s fountain, if one is taken in as a tenant who is un worthy the bright habitation. May such an one never bring tears into those bright eyes. J'utr drove, March 20 th, 1858. CUPPED ITEMS. A line may be remembered when a chapter is forgotten What is fashion? A beautiful envelope for mortality, presenting a beautiful and polished ex terior, the appearance of which gives no certain indications of tho real value of what is contained therein. A notice of a recent steamboat explosion ends asfo'lows: “The captain swam ashore; so did the chambermaid. She was insured for $15,- 000 and loaded with iron.” Tolographic reports an nounce that Gov. Banks, of Massachusetts, lias removed Judge boring, in accordance with the address adopted by the legislature. This act was occasioned by his judicial obedience-to a law of the United States. Give ft man brains and riches, and he is a king. Give a man brains without riches, and he is a slave. Give a man riches with out brains, and he is a fool. The fear of God makes no man do anything mean or dishonorable; but the fear of man leads to all sorts of weakness and baseness. At tliere-assemblingofthe English House of Lords, on the lltli of March, under the new ministry, Mr. Dallas, the American Minister, and a number of ladies occupied the galleries set apart for peereses. The Annual Report of the Managers of the New Jersey Lunatic Asylum, shows the whole number of patients received and treated during the year to have been 429. In treating dis eases of the mind, music is not sufficiently valued. In raising the heart above despair, an old violin is worth four doctors and two apothecary shops.* God has written more laws than are put down in revelation. There is one written all over the, fleshy walls that contain your manhood or woman hood, viz: the law of labor and rest. What gentle man can, with any sense of propriety, ask a fat woman to lean upon liis arm ? If a small boy is call ed a lad, is it proper to call a larger boy a ladder? Forest, the tragedian, is reported to have par taken of the religious excitement so prevalent at the North, and professed conversion. A fair dam-” sel of Metropolis, Illinois, lias instituted a legal action against a truant beau in Paducah, Ky., for not making her a wife as lie promised. She charges $6,000 for the disappointment, which, if she obtains, will, of course, soothe her blighted heart. It ought to, in such times as these. I love to look upon a young man. There is a hidden po tency concealed within his breast which charms and pains me.” The daughter of a clergyman happening to find the above sentence at the close of a jiiece of her father’s manusci ipt, as he had left it in liis study, sat down and added— “Them’s my sentiments exactly, papa—all but the pains.” Who can tell the value of a smile? It costs the giver nothing, but is beyond price to the erring and relenting, the sad and cheerless, the lost and forsaken. It disarms malice—sub dues temper —turns haired to love—revenge to kindness, and paves the darkest path with gems of sunlight. A smile on the brow betrays a kind heart, and a pleasant friend, an affectionate bro ther, a dutiful son, a happy husband. It adds a charm to beauty, it decorates the face of the de formed, and makes lovely woman resemble an an gel of paradise. The Norfolk Day Book localizer has a hankering after crinoline. Under theabove interrogation, he gives the following: A young lady in Portsmouth, engaged in gath ering a dress a few evenings ago, took Jive hun dred and thirty-eight stitches in three minutes, as follows: first minute 176, second minute 176, and third minute 186. While this may seem almost unrea sonable, we know it to be a fact, and a fact, too, that establishes the truth, that the “patent sew ing machines ” stand no chance at all in Ports mouth. A bill to punish professional gamblers by whipping has passed the lower house of the South Carolina Legislature. It provides, that in addi tion to the punishment already provided by law, the guilty party shall receive not exceeding thir ty-nine lashes. Good idea. An editor writing from Frankfort, Ky., says that the Legislature of that State, is composed of fine looking, well dressed and well behaved men, and that among the whole number, there are but five drunkards, and only some eight or ten fools —a smaller number than was ever counted in any previous General Assem bly. “I believe,'” said a tall representative, “that I am one of the tallest members of the house.” Yes,” added a fellow representative, “and the slimmest too!” “You are a little bear, madam.” “Sir!” “ About tho shoulders, I mean, madam.” The city builder, to save cost of land, runs his buildings up two, three or four stories high. So should the farmer cultivate his farms, down ward another story, to save surface. The good heart the tender feeling and pleasant disposition, mako smiles, love and snnshine everywhere. CHOICE SELECTIONS. The Tyrant Sway. ’ BYJiF.ORO® r. MORRIS. The heart that owns thv tyrant sway, Whate’er its hopes may he, Is like a bark that drifts away Upon n shoreless sea! No compass left to guide her on, Upon tho surge she’s tempest torn- And such is life to me! 4nd what 13 life when love is fled \ The world, unshared by thc-e ? I'd rather slumber wilhthe dead, Than such a wolf to be! The bark that by no compass steers. Is lo9t, which way soe’er she veers And such is life to me! Hume Junrnal. Winter and Spring. An old man was sitting in his lodge, by the j side of a frozen stream. It was the close of win ter, and his fire was almost out. He appeared very old and very desolate.* His locks were white with age, and he trembled in every joint. Day after day passed in solitude, and he heard noth ing but the sounds of the tempest, sweeping be fore it the new-fallen snow. One day, as his fire was just dying, a handsome young man approached, and entered his dwell ing. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth, his eyes sparkled with animation, and a smile played upon his lips. He walked with a j light quick step. His forehead was bound with j a wreath of sweet grnsfUin place of a warrior’s ! frontlet, and lie carried a bunch of flowers in his j hand. “Ah, my son,” said the old man, “ I am happy ! to see you. Come in. Come, tell me of your ad- ; ventures, and what strange land you have been ! to see. Let us pass the night together. 1 will j tell you of my prowess and exploits, and what I j can perform. You shall do the same, and we , will amuse ourselves.” He then drew from his sack a curiously wrought ! antique pipe, and, having filled it with” tobacco, rendered mild by an admixture of certain leaves, I handed it to liis guest. When this ceremony was concluded, they began to speak. “I blow my breath,’’said the old man, “and the streams stand still. The water becomes stiff and hard as clear stone.” “ 1 breathe,” said the young man, “and flow ers spring up all over the plains” “1 shake my lock,” retorted the old man, “and snow covers the land. The leaves foil from the trees at my command, and mv breath blowsthem J away. The birds get up from the water, and fly j to a distant lands. The animals hide themselves from my breath, and the very ground becomes as hard as flint.” “ 1 shake my ringlet,” rejoined the young man, “and warm showers of soft rain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their heads out of | the earth, like the eyes of children glistening j with delight. My voice recalls the birds. r [he j warmth of my breath unlocks the streams. Mu-: sic fills the groves wherever I walk, and all na ture rejoices.” At length the sun began to rise. A gentle ! warmth came over the place. The tongue of the i old man became silent. The robin and bluebird | began to sing on the topof tho lodge. The steam ; began to murmer by the door, .and the fragrance of growing herbs and flowers came softly on the vernal breeze. Daylight fully revealed ty the young man the character of his entertainer. When he looked upon him, lie had the visage of Peqoan, [Win ter.] Streams began to flow from his eyes. As the sun increased, he grew less and less in stat ure, and anon had melted completely away. Nothing remained on the place of his lodge-fire but the miskodeed a small white flower with a pink border. — Hewn/ Ji. Schoolcraft. * An Amußing Old Letter. The following letter from Mrs. Flizabeth Mon tague to the Duchess of Portland, was written in 1738—more than a hundred years ago. it con tains a vivacity and a sparkle not usual even in those days of wit and good-humor: “Madam ;—Your grace’s very entertaining let ter was sent to me at Sir Wyndham Knatchbull’s where I have been about three weeks, and pro pose returning to Mount Morris in a few days, J am as angry as I dare be with your grace, that you did not send any account of those charming fireworks, wi iff 1 fancy were the prettiest things imaginable. I very much approve your love of variety in trifles, and constancy in the things of greater moment. I think you have great reason to call exchange robbery, though the common saying is to the contrary. For my part you never saw one man that I loved, I scarce imagine I could be fond of a. dozen, and come to that unrea sonableness so ridiculously set forth in ‘Hyp- i poly to,’ in the ‘Tempest.’ At present I seldom | like above, six or eight at a time. I fancy in mat- j rimony one finds variety in one, in the charming j vicissitudes of Sometimes my plague, sometimes my darling; Kissing to-day, to-morrow snarling. Then the surprising and sudden transformation 1 of the obsequious and obedient lover to the grace- i ful haughtiness and imperiousness of the com manding husband, must lie so agreeable a met amorphosis as is not to bo equalled in an Ovid’s collection, where 1 do not remember a. lamb’s be ing transformed into a bear. Your grace is much to be pitied, who lias never known the varieties I mention, but lias found all the sincerity of friendship, and complacency of a lover, in” the same person : and 1 am sure my lord duke is a most miserable man, who has found one person j jyho has taken away that passion for change, I which is the boast and happiness of so many peo- ; pie. Pray tellmy Lord Dupplin that I never heard of a viscount that was a prophet in my life. I assure you I am not going to tie the fast knot you j mention. Whenever 1 have any thoughts of it, I I shall acquaint your grace with it, and send you a description of the gentleman, with his good; qualities and faults in full length. At present I : will tell you what sort of a man 1 desire, which is j above ten times as good as I deserve; for grati- j tude is a great virtue, and J would have cause to be thankful, lie should have a great deal of j sense and prudence to direct and instruct me, i much wit to divert me, beauty to please me, ! good-liumor to indulge me in the right, and re prove me gentle when lam in the wrong; money I enough to afford me lgpre than I can wai#, and ’as much as I can wish; and constancy to like me as long as other people do—that is, till rav face j is wrinkled by age, or scarred by the small-pox— i and after that I shall expect oniy civility in the room of love ; for, as Mrs. Olive sings, ‘All hope of jraortal man. Is to love me whilst he can.’ When I can meet all these things in a man, above ; the trivial consideration of money, you may ox- 1 pect to hear that lam going to change the easy tranquility of mind I enjoy at present, for a pros- j pect of happiness; fori am like Pygmalion, in j love with a picture of my own drawing; but I’ never saw an original like it in my life. I hope, when I do, I shall, as some poet says, find the statue warm. I am, madam, your most obedient bumble servant, Euz. Robinson.” FeeemanHunt.—There are but few, if any, read ing people to whom the name of Freeman Hunt does not sound familiar. He was born in Quincy, Mass. March 21, 1854, and died in New York on the 3d. of March 1858, and was consequently 54 years of age. He served as an apprentice to the printing business in Worcester, Mass., and after wards worked as a journeyman.* He was careful of his income, and ■saved the surplus of his earn ings. Ho afterwards went to Boston and there followed his profession. He obtained employ ment in a newspaper office, and his contributions addressed to the editor, who was ignorant of their authorship. He finallay became the acting edi tor. He was chiefly instrumental in starting the first Ladies’ Magazine ever published in the country, and one of the proprietors of The Child’s Paper published in Boston. He was fi nancial manager of the Penny Magazine, pub lished by a number of engravers. In July, 1839, he started the Merchant’s Magazine/ which was a successsul project from the first. He edited and published within the past two years two volumes of the Lives of American Merchants, and a vol ume entitled Worth and Wealth. He has for many years been a resident of Brooklyn. He had been confined to his house for many weeks, grad ually failing, and finally died of congestion of the liver. —Brooklyn Eagle. Many men pass fifty or sixty years in the world and when they are just about going out of it thoy bethink themselves, and step back as it were, to do something which they had all the while for got, viz: the main businesae for which they came into the world, to repent for their sins, and re form their lives, and make their peace with God, and in time prepare for eternity.— Tilhtm. . LADIES’ OLIO. - ‘ Xt*! Said a Viitilc Song ot Aready. BY T. B. AIftRICH. The robin is a ruby, And the milk-white dove pearl:’ And so your lips are robins, Doves your bosom, little girl! What, then, shall I call you, Pet, when you are mine? Said a little song of Arcady,- We sang upon the Rhine. You apeak : I hear the robins Singing east and west; And 1 know the dainty doves That pestle at your breast! What, then, shall I call you, Pet, when you are mine? Said a little song of Arcadv, We 3ang upsrn the Rhine, Shall I call you ruby, Robin, pearl or dove ? You pout. Then I will only Call you Love, only Love ! That is all I’ll call you, Pet, when you are mine ! Said a little song of Arcadv, We sang upon the Rhine. My Mothei’* last Prayer. As often as I turn to the past I recall a mother’s last prayer, for there is in the memory ot it a fresh ness that 1 love. < >thcr prayers she offered at the “ Throne of Grace” for her little one, but all except the last passed away as children’s bless ings too often do. There was indeed a mysteri ous, a holy power in the breathings of that mo ment—and in the brief words, “My child, mother prays that your home may be Heaven,” I see more beauty than in ail the figures of idle rhetoric, and feel them to be more potent than others that have since ascended to Heaven in my behalf. \\ lien they had lain her away forever, and my young heart felt as if it would burst in the intense ness of its grief, its wild beatings were stopped by the recalling ol her dying hour—surrounded by a halo ol holy light—and momentarily passing i more rapdily away, still remembered her babes and consecrated them anew to God—oil dark, yet cliei - islted moments, why was it thatyouevor came and spread your mantle ol sorrow over the eh ib l’s young i heart, and caused even babes to weep tears of bit ter anguish. In after years, when I have sceti other orphans pour out their souls in grief deeply bitter, from mine has risen a prayer, such as l would, none could ever need rise to “ God's Throne.” Oh mo ther,'home, Heaven, how powerful, how holy arc the influences you exert—and truly all may draw from your wells of life the reviving waters of faith which cause even children to feci the pureness of their Father’s will. “ Mv child, mother prays that Heaven may bo your home,” will never be forgotten, even though life’s darkest storms break over my head with un relenting fury. Yes mother! when you prayed that prayer as a Saint’s offering it arose—and when you lifted your heart, your child’s too arose and often since when I have doubted my worthi ness of my ‘Saviour’s Kingdom, “ Mother prays, is recalled, and I doubt no longer. In my ehilcl ishness I have sometimes thought perhaps inlTeav en, mother still prays that prayer; and though I know it to be all a fancy, still inks seeming reality, there is a hope so sweet, so cneering, that I can scarce own it as a child’s whim. My mo ther’s last prayer ; how sweet to feel that (hat is left and still lives in memory—Oh ! Mother, would that all your counsels could have lived as does your prayer, for then it may be, your child would not so often have erred—yet, perhaps it is best, for if we taste not of life’s dark, bitter streams, Heaven’s joys lose one half their charms. Think not that this is an idlefiction—no, though I would that it I could never need to have been a reality, yet it was one, and mother’s last prayer is that gift that I prize far more highly than all others, and then “ oft from life’s withering pow er, “ In still communion with the past, I turn, I muse on her, the brightest flower in the memory’s urn” 1 nightly pray her, “ To bless her sorrowing child, and o’er that urn, Religion’s holiest shrine, to give my spirit Undefiled to blend with her’s.” Woman and Marriage. Marriage is possibly an event of more absorb ing importance in the life of a woman than in that of a man; but if it is, this mere fact is not enough to make her the natural critic and special pleader of the whole subject: rather the other way, for extreme personal interest is not supposed, in gen eral cases, to clear the vision or steady the judg ment. Yet we find it not only occupying a most prominent place in a considerable proportion of the feminine teachings ot the day, but even earn estly recommended to the mind of the young wo mankind as a subject on which they are bound to inform themselves. Do nothing of the sort, young ladies! Don’t come to any conscientious convic tions on the subject. Don’t be persuaded to be lieve that you are more intimately and lastingly concerned in the matter than your lover is, or have aiiy private course of casuitry to go through in your professional position as a woman. If you have really and serioualy come to the conclusion that to be married is the natural and best condi tion of existence, be married, for Heaven’s sake, and be done with it! Every human creature is bound to do his or her duty (let us say it boldly) whether it has the solace of love to sweeten it or no. It may seem a frightful doctrine, vet it is the merest dictate of ordinary sense and wis dom. If a woman is certain that sheis more fitted to be the mistress of a house, and the mother of a family, than anything else, and this is her true vocation - spito of all natural human prejudices in favor of all the natural preliminary of marriage we are bound to declare that her first duty, as it seems to us, is to he married, even though it should be quite impossible for her to persuade herself that she is “in love” before. But if her sense of duty is not equal to this venture, the very ■worst thing she can do is to console herself by concluding most manages to be unhappy, and the estate, in the greatest number of instances, an unholy state. And it is just this hankering after a condition of which she willneither accept the risk norrelinqnish the thought, and which, having no experience, she is quite unqualified to be a judge, winch exposes unmarried women of philosophic tendencies, not young to be judged leniently as under the glamour of youth, and not old enough to have their arbitrary fancies subdued by the mellowing touch of age, to the disapproval of the sympathetic critic, and the derision of hastier judgments. A Beai -m i l, Thought.—When I gaze into the stars they look down ujon me with pity from their serene spaces, like eyes glistening with tears, over the little lot of man. Thousands of genera tions, all as noisy as our own, have been swallowed up by time, and there remains no record of them any more; yet Aretums and Oiron, Sirius and the Pleiades are still shining in their courses, clear and voungas when the shepherd first noted them from the plain of Shiner. What shadows we are and what shadows wc pursue! —Thomas Car/in/, A Child’s Laughter. Is there any thing like the ringing laugh of an innocent happy child? Can any other music so echo through the heart’s inner chambers? It is sympathetic, too, beyond other melodies. When the father sits absorbed over his book which seems to concentrate every faculty, he hears his little boy laughing in his sports, and laughs also, he knows not wherefore. The bright being, contin ually gathering intelligence, eastsaround us beams of affection, till our paths seem paved with pre cious stones from Heaven’s treasury. No day oi storms is dark where he is—no wintry evening long. A young child is a full mountain ol delight to the house and heart. “ Fashionable Congregation.”—The newspaper reporters pay a very equivocal compliment to this or that preacher, when they tell us he was listened to by a “fashionable” congregation. Fashion is all right at the theatre or the opera, or other pub lic assemblages of a secular character, but the jade ought hot to have anything to do in the Temple of the Most High. Think of Paul preach ing to a “fashionable” congregation on Mars’ Hill, or a greater than Paul delivering a sermon on the Mount to a“numerouß and fashionable audience.” True, we’have fashionable preachers, but it is a question whether their preaching would not be followed with better effects if the “ fashion” were taken out of it. Fashion is a heartless thing at b<sst, and a heartlessness in religion is hypoc risy.—New York Express. It is one thing to be a successful politician, and quite another to be a good practical statesman. A distinguished div ine defined this point of dif ference very well not long since: “A politician,” he said, “is shrevved, crafty, sagacious, and artful. A statesman must be wise, discreet, profound, hon est.” FARMER’S COLUMN.. UOiUItIEHCIAI,. AUGUSTA, March 29.— Colton.— There was an ac tive inquiry to-day, and fair sales at lull prices. We quote for Middling Fair 11J cents. SAVANNAH, March 28. — Cotton. —-121 tales sold to-day, at the following particulars : 34 at 11$, 78 at lli, 150 at lid, 137 at 12, 22 at 12$. CHARLESTON, March 21.—Cotton—There was some inquiry for this article to day, hut- the eonsessions demanded did not suit the views of holders, and the market closed with sales of only 700 bales, at extremes ranging from 10J to 12$ cents —some 250 bales having brought the latter price. We must wait further devel opments, before we undertake to report the effect of the 3tearuer Niagara’s advices on our market. Augusta Prices C'Hrreut. ‘wholesale prices,. BACON.—Hams, ft lu % Jo $ Canvassed Hants, Ib 13 (eg . 14- Shoulders, ‘j-Ji lb 9 fa 10 Western Sides. “p ft 10A (<£ 11 Clear Sides, Term., lb 11 (q) 11$ Ribbed Sides. Ik ]l @ CO Hog Round, new. lb 10 (a j 10$ FLOUR.—Country bbl 450 (qf 600 Tennessee * bbl 475 (a) 560 City Mills $ bbl 550 (q) 750 Etowah jo bbl 500 @7 50 Denrnead’s bbl 500 @7 00 Extra R bbl 700 @ 750 GRAIN.—Corn in sack fA bush 65 @ 75 Wheat, white Yl bush 1 10 1 15 Red Y* lb 100 @1 05 Oats S9 bush 45 (i.x) 50 Rye f.'. bush 70 (a) 75 Peas “{i hush 75 (a) 85 Corn Meal ft bush 70 (<g 75 IRON.—Swedes lb 5f () ‘,r/ English, Common, ft 3$ @ “ Refined, ft ft (dj LARD.— • Y* lb 10 (a) U MOLASSES. —Cuba ft ga! 2(5 (and) 28 St. Croix ft gal 40 Sugar House Syrup ft gal 42 @ 45 Chinese Syrup ft gal 40 (u, 50 SUGARS. —N. Orleans fl ft 7$ @ 9 Porto Rico ft lb S$ (and) 9 Muscovado ft ft 8 ({J 8$ Refined 0 )t ft JO (V<) 11 Refined I! Y* ib 104 (q> II Refined A ft ib 11 (a/ 11$ Powdered ft lb 12 (fi; 13 Crushed ft lb 12 (fit 13 SALT.— ft sack 90 <& 100 COFFER.—Rio Y* lb 11$ (a$ ]2s Lagtiira ‘ft lb 13 (qj 14 Java tb 18 (cy 20 Seek Corn.—lt is hardly necessary for us to re mind our readers tlr t seed corn will to wanted in the spring, and those who have it should seo that it is carefully preserved : and those who have it not should bo prompt to secure it. Do not wait until planting time, with the hope that then it may bo plentiful and cheap. It will bo better to provide- it now, if you cun. r.mxii’S as a Field Crof.—Wc copied into the Rural last spring, an article recommending the field culture of parsnips for stock, and thought we would try the experiment in order to satisfy ourself on the subject. We accordingly sowed side by side of our mangel wortzels and few rows of par.-nip seed, and tended them as wc did the other roots. The soil was the same in all respects. The parsnips were more easily wed ouLand tended than the carrot, because they came up with a broader leaf and were more easily distinguished from the weeds. They grew luxuriantly—many of them as largo, at the crown as a man’s arm and rooting down so very deep, that if the Chi nese on the other side of the earth had suspected their opportunity they might have drawn them through for their own benefit. The .result was that the same quantity of ground gave us twenty per cent more of parsnips than we harvested of carrots, and about an equal weight with mangel wortzels. We have dug one half of them—only twenty bushels—for winter’s use the other half we have in the ground, to be taken out in-early spring, a fresh and delicious repast for the new milch cows then. They are improved by being kept in the earth through winter. This is an ad ditional recommendation in their behalf. —Rural Intelligencer. Salt.—There are few articles, perhaps, ofgr&ttor value to the agriculturist, than salt. As an in gredient in compost, it is of great service and op erates with an influence upon the soil, which can be produced by no other stimulant, either mine ral or vegetable. As to top dressing for grass lands—especially those of a loamy texture—it is invaluable. Mixed with wood ashes, in the pro portion of one bushel of salt to three of ashes, and five of lime, it constitutes a very energetic ma nure lor Indian corn—producing an early and vigorous germination of the seed, and acting as efficient protection against the ravages of the va rious insectivorous enemies by which the young plants are too frequently infested and destroyed. During the many years in which l 1 have used the ar ticle, I have never known it to fail of producing the most important and marked results—whether applied as a top dressing on lands in grass or grain, as a stimulant for corn, or as a pabulum, for the support of pivoting crops. I have also used it with good .success on various kinds of fruit trees—plums, pears, cherries, apples, peaches and quinces. Every farmer should make a lib eral use of it, particularly in compounding ma nures. Manure Water. Manure water is a great assistance, judicously applied, to plants in pots, jiarticulary to increase the size and coloring of flowers, if given when the flower buds are swelling, and before they expand. An excellent manure water for this purpose is made by mixing one ounce of guano and two ounces of superphosphate of lime in lour gallons of water, previously stirring it well, and use it when it has become clear. This is quite strong enough, and should bo given alternately, with waterings of pure water.— Me. Funner. This is all very well; and it is well enough to have some guano and superphosphate for such uses always on hand ; but as few have them, or care to go to a dealer for a few pounds we venture to say that lour shovelfuls of well rotted manure from the various animals of the farm, including the liens, thrown in to a barrel ol‘water, to stand a few days in the sun, and to be occasionally stirred, will give a manure water equally good—one that will make a potato hill grow as luxuriantly, the fruit on dwarf pear ripen as luxuriantly or tho rose blush-as sweetly. In a sliovelhill from each of the various sour ces of fertility about the farm house, as the yard, stables, pigeon, and hen house, mixed together and fermented, or if they be taken in on a par tially decaying state, arc all the elements found in guano and superphosphate, and they are suffi ciently soluble for the,above purpose. There is not a farm house—scarcely a house of any kind—in the eountiy, where we could not. find decomposing matter, on tho shortest notice, that would be valued by the occupant at one cent or loss, which would make a barrel of manure water, just as good as that recommended above. It is true that a homeopathic dose of guano or I superphosphate, especially the former, and per haps both better than either alone, will give a wonderful richness to the colors ol flowers. But tliev are not the only thing that will do it. It- would be well for us not to forget that there are manures otherwhere than in the merchant s back room.— The Plow the Loom anil the Anvil. The Phosphates.—Lands which have been in culture will be benegtted by the application of phosphate of lime, audit is unimportant whether the deficiency be supplied in the form of bone dust, guano, native phosphate of lime, compost of flesh’, ashes, or the oyster-shell lime, or marl, if the lands need limestone. Leibig says, “of all the principles furnished to plants by the soil, the phosphates are the most important u for the soil in which the phosphates are not present, is totally incapable of producing cereals.” Steam Press for Packing Cotton.—The packing of cotton by means of presses has always been employed in cotton exporting countries. The aim of these presses'is to make the fibres lie quite close together, with no air between; and so far is this condensing process carried that cotton in the bale is often only one-tenth of its original bulk. These presses have been, first the old screw press, which was replaced by the hydraulic one, and now the steam press is gradually gaining ground. An improvement on this last kind has recently been patented by Mr. J. Boy, of New Orleans. This invention consists in economizing the steam so that all its power is extracted before being blown away. This is done by the use of three steam cylinders, one being much larger then the other two, aud having them arranged so that a progressive power is obtained. By this means, the smallest amount of power is used aB first, which gradually increases as the bale de creases.