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iHjje fUearflift Jv I’Mipenuicf
JOHN H. SEALS,
NEW SERIES, VOLUME 111.
*C|t Centpraitct fasakr.
every Thursday in the year, except two,
rEBMS ! Two Dollars per year, in advance,
JOHN H. SEAES, Solk Peopbietor.
T-IONEL L. VEAZE Y, Editor Literary Pep’tm’t.
MRS. M. E. BRYAN, Editress.
d<STTN a. REYNOLDS, Pt'BLISHKR.
Clubs of Ten Names, by sending the Cash,
will receive the paper at .... Si copy.
Clubs of Five Names, at 160 “
Any person sending us Five new subscribers, inclo
sing the money, shall receive an extra cop} one year
t ree of cost.
ADVERTISING DIRECTORY:
„ Rates of Advertising:
1 square, (twelve lines or less,) first insertion, $1 00
“ Each continuance, 50
Professional or Business Cards, net exceeding six
lines, per year, 5 OD
Announcing Candidates for Office, 3 00
Standing Advertisements:
Advertisements not marked with the number of
insertions, will be continued until forbid, and charged
accordingly.
Druggists and others, may contract
for advertising by the year on reasonable terms.
Legal Advertisements:
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Ex
ecutors and Guardians, per square, 5 00
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators, Ex
ecutors and Guardians, per square, 3 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n, 500
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guard’p, 325
Legal Requirements:
Sales of Land and Negroes by Administrators, Exec
utors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on
the First Tuesday in the month, between the hours of
teg,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
lie Gazette, forty days previous to the day of sale.
Notices for the sale ol’Personal Property must be given
at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notices to Debtors and Creditors of an estate, must
be. published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court ot
Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must be pub
lished weekly for two months,
y Citations for Letters of Administration, must be pub
lished thirty days —for Dismission from Administration
monthly, six months —for Dismission from Guardianship,
forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be published
monthly, for four months —for compelling titles from Ex
ecutors or Administrators, where a bond has been issued
by the deceased, the full space of three months.
Publications will always be continued according
to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise or
dered.
THE ATTORNEY—NAME AND PLACE.
KING & LEWIS, Attorneys at Laic, Greenes*
boro, Ga. The undersigned, having associated
’ themselves together in the practice of law, will attend
to all business intrusted to their care, with that prompt
ness and efficiency which long experience, united with ,
industry, can secure. Offices at Greenesboro and five
miles west of White Plains, Greene county, Ga.
y. r. kinu. July 1, 1656. m. w. lewis.
AT7HIT G. JOHNSON, Attorney~at Law",
intrusted to his professional management in Richmond
and the adjoining counties. Office on Mclntosh street,
tljtree doors below Constitutionalist office.
lleference —Thos. R. R. Cobb, Athens, Ga.
, June 14 ly
TAMES BROWN, Attorney at Law, Fancy
Hill, Murray Cos. Ga. April 30, 1857.
TT OBEK L. Will GUAM, Louisville, Jet
-l-I’ ferson county, Georgia, will give prompt attention
to any business intrusted to hi 9 care, in the following
counties : Jefferson, Burke, Richmond, Columbia, War
ren, Washington, Emanuel, Montgomery, Tatnall and
Scriven. April 26, 1856 ts
LEONARD T. DOYAL, Attorney at Law,
McDonough, Henry county, Ga. will practice Law
in the following counties: Henry, Spaulding, Butts,
Newton, Fayette, Fulton, DeKalb, Pike and Monroe.
Feb 2-4
Dll. SANDERS, Attorney at Law, Albany,
• Ga. will practise in the counties of Dougherty,
Sumter, Lee, Randolph, Calhoun, Early, Baker, Deca
tur and Worth. Jan 1 ly
HT. PERKINS, Attorney at Law, Greenes
* boro, Ga. will practice in the counties ot Greene,
Morgan, Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliaferro, llanceck,
Wilkes and Warren. Feb ly
PHILLIP u. ROBIN SON, Attorney at
Law, Greenesboro, Ga. will practice in the coun
ties of Greene Morgan, Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliafer
ro, Hancock, Wilkes and Warren. July 5, ’56-lv
THE WEEKLY
CHRONICLE & SENTINEL,
PUBLISHED AT AUGUSTA, GA.
13 THE
LARGEST AND BEST
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PAPER IN THE STATE.
PAPER IN THE STATE.
PAPER IN THE STATE.
PAPER IN THE STATE.
IN EVERY NUMBER
IN EVERY NUMBER
IN EVERY NUMBER
IN EVERY NUMBER
WE GIVE THE READER
WE GIVE THE READER
WE GIVE THE READER
WE GIVE THE READER
THREE TO FIVE TIMES
As much Reading Matter as is contained in the ordinary
Weekly Papers ol the South, consisting oi
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALKS,
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
MARKET REPORTS,
’ MARKET REPORTS,
MARKET REPORTS,
MARKET REPORTS,
LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
* LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
Ac. &c. Ac.
The Weekly Chronicle & Sentinel, devoted to
POLITICS, NEWS AND MISCELLANEOUS IN
TELLIGENCE, is issued every Wednesday morning,
contains the LATEST NEWS received by Mail and
Telegraph up to Twelve O’clock Tuesday Night,
and is mailed to subscribers by the earliest trains from
this city, at
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR,
IX ADVANCE.
TRI-WEEKLY PAPER, $4.00,
DAILY PAPER, $7.00.
Letters should be addressed to
W. S. JONES, Augusta, Ga.
copies sent free when desired.
April 15, 1858
Willis’ Hotel,
, , A T TIIE OLD STAND, is still open for
pnafl ii the reception and accommodation of trav-
JilllJLellers. All who may favor us with their pat
ronage, .1..11 reci.c evey
Greenesboro, Feb. 12, 1858.
fITTARRENTED to force the Moustache anc.r,
W Whiskers to grow strong and luxuriant in on<y
ionth, where there was none before. It will not stain®
r injure the skin. One Dollar per bottle.. bent ton
11 parts of the country, on receipt of the pnee.
‘lk Address DR. S. P. SHELDON,
June 10, 1858 6m New York City.
YOU can at all times find a fine assortment of
TIN, exceedingly low for the Cash, with
July 1, 1858 J. M. BOWLES.
’ S
An Earnest Appeal.
NECESSITY compels me to make an earnest
appeal to those who are indebted to me for 1856
: and ’57, for help. I need money to carry on my busi
’ ness, nnd a small sum from each one whose account is
i past due, would make me easy. Shall I appeal in vain ?
! July 8 W. B. SEALS.
| —3 !^BO.a.E£ a £3a^ 9
AND
! LOVERS OF GOOD THINGS, FRESH AND PURE,
JUST give ‘Old Mac’ a call— he’s always ready
to supply the wants of those who may favor him
l with their patronage. What’ll you have ?
I A saucer of Cream,
A Lemonade,
Oranges & Bananas,
Peacans & Peanuts,
Candies and Cakes,
Stews, Fries, Bakes,
Col’rado&Ch’roots,
’Backer & Havanas,
In sun or shade,
‘Old Mac’s’ th’ team
that can furnish just what you may love!
52SJ~Meals at short notice. Call, examine and eat.
He may still be found at his old place.
Greenesboro, June 10, 1858 D. MCDONALD.
SURGEON & MECHANICAL DENTIST,
YUOULD inform liis friends that he
will back in November and attend
his engagements at White Plains, Mt.
Zion, Oxford and Penfield. May 13, 1858-tfjan
Q33c<2->cs>!JU
CALL around and take some ICED LEMON
ADE with June 10 J. M. BOWLES.
OD&^^<SU'QQJl£l<E>SEl
THE firm of COE & LATIMER is this day dis-j
solved by mutual consent. H. A. COE,
Greenesboro, May Ist, 1858 J. S. LATIMER.
The practice will be continued by
who will visit ;
Oxford,
Penfield,
White Plains,
Mount Zion,
Warrenton,
El her ton,
Danielsville
Fort Lamar,
ot which due notice will be given inthe Crusader and;
Gazette. Permanent office in J. C UNNINGIIA M'S
BL OCK, G R EENES BORO.
May 13, 1858 tjanl
ciamag irwanHmMß.”
T AM now well supplied with a larg e
* and complete assortment of and
TppP&fi FA NC r CABINET FURNITURE, eni
-1 H II * bracing every article in this line of business,
many of which are necessary to render home pleasant
and comfortable :
WARDROBES , Rosewood, Mahogany, Walnut;
BUREAUS, do do do
WASH STANDS, do do Marb.Tops;
QUARTETTE TA BLES, Rosewood and do
SOFA TABLES, do do
SIDE-BOARDS, Mahotrany ;
CARD S- CENTRE TABLES, Mahogany ;
ROCKERS, Rosewood, Mahog. Maple Sc Walnut;
CHA IRS, Rosewood, Mahog. Maple and Walnut;
BEDSTEADS, elegant Designs and Finish :
SOFAS; BOOK-CASES ; FOLD. TABLES;
WASH STANDS; WARDROBES, iff. tfc.
PICTURE FRAMES, Gilt and Rosewood,
Any of the above-named articles purchased, will be
carefully boxed and delivered at the depot,
FREE OF CHARGE.
N. B.—Sofas, Rocking Chairs, &c. repaired neatly
and with dispatch.
I buy and manufacture none but the BEST’ of work,
and those who are disposed to purchase from me can
rely upon getting good articles on the most reasonable
terms. ‘ A. SHAW,
June 24—3 t Madison, Ga.
WIKI (BRASS.
THE subscriber offers lor sale 25 or 30 bushels
of the Winter Grass-seed, (known as the Iverson
Grass—he having the reputation of introducing the
same into Georgia.) Having raised three crops of this
Grass, I am decidedly of the opinion that it is the beat
that has ever been introduced into this section, it being
far preferable to rye or hi rley for lots or grazing purpo
ses. It grows luxuriantly all winter—hard freezes or
heavy rains being no interference. It improves the land f
on which it grows; neither does it hinder or obstruct
the growth of any other crop on the same ground. All
animals that feed on grass are very fond of it. The
seed may he sow n at any time from June until October
and do well. I will refer the public to a perusal of the j
Circular of Hon. 13. V. Iverson. Any person who de
sires to procure the Grass-seed front me can do so by
early application, and have it sent to any place which
they may designate. D. lIERRON.
N. B. Any further information wanting can he ob
tained by addressing me at Penfield. D. H.
Penfield, Ga. June 3, 1858 8t |
CERATOCHLOA BREVIARISTATA 1
Or, Sliort Awn Horn Grass.
Columbus, Ga. Sept. 29tli, 1850. j
To the Plunters, Farmers and Slock Raisers of Greene j
County , Ga :
Gentlemen :
I take this method to bring to your notice a Foreign
Winter Grass, the seed of which is now acclimated,
and which I sincerely desire every Planter and Kaiser
to possess and cultivate. This grass grows in the fall,
winter and spring only, and is emphatically a winter |
grass. For the grazing of stock and making nutritious j
hay and restoring worn out fields, it has no superior.
This grass has the following valuable qualities, which
many year’s experience has abundantly demonstrated:
Ist It has the largest seed of any known species of
grass, being nearly ns large as wheat.
2d It will grow [on very rich ground] from three to j
four feet high, when seasonable.
3d It is nevet injured by cold—no freeze hurts it.
4th It is never troubled by insects of any kind.
sth It is never injured or retarded in growing by heavy ;
rains, overflows or ordinary drought.
6th It grows as fast a3 Millet or Lucerne.
7th It is as nutritious as barley, and stock arc as fond
of it as they are of that.
Btli It will keep horses, mules, cattle, sheep, goats,
hogs and poultry fat throughout the winter and spring,
from November to May.
!)th It will then (the stock being withdrawn, and the
ground being rich) yield front three to four tons of ex
cellent hay per acre, cutting when the seed is green (in
j milk) each time.
| 10th Itsaveßcorn nnd fodder being fed away to slock
1 during the winter and spring.
i 1 lib It completely protects fields from washing rains.
12th It ennables farmers to have an abundance of
rich milk, cream and butter, with fat beef, mutton, &c.
for the table.
i 13th It will (if followed with our cornfield pea or
bean) give to fanners the cheapest, simplest, the surest
and the most paying plan to reclaim worn out fields, and
fertilize those not yet so, which the ingenuity of man
I can devise.
14th It will sow its own seeds after the first time,
without expense or trouble, thereby re-producing itself
(through its seeds) on the same ground ad infinitum.
15tli It does not spread or take possession of a field,
so as to be difficult to get rid of, but can be effectually
destroyed at any stage before the seed ripen and fall out,
by being plowed up or under.
This grass having the above enumerated properties,
will he found, by all who cultivate it, far superior to
any other species ever introduced, or which can be in
troduced, for the climate and soil of our country.
B. V. IVERSON.
i MTO'VJICZiE:*
ALL persons are hereby warned against and
forbid trading for a note of hand dated the third of
i March last, for one hundred and thirty dollars, payable
! ninety days after its date, given by me to McGee & Cos.
I the consideration for which said note was given having
j sassed. THOMAS W. S. LEWIS.
I July 8, 1858 4t
THE ADOPTED ORGAN OF ALE THE TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS IN THE STATE.
OHE subscriber w ill opt n his house for the ACCOM
MODATION OF VISITORS during the approach
ing COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES.
July Ist, 1858 W>B. SEALS.
tTUIE firm of J. S. BA ItNWELL &CG, nil! be
J- dissolved on the First of Next Month, by mutual
consent—at which time those having demands against
said firm, will please present them, and those indebted
are respectfully notified that the books will be open for
settlement by note or cash. The undersigned will give
his attention to the settlement of all claims.
Mr. Barmvell will continue in the business of HAR
NESS MAKING and REPAIRING, whom I take
great pleasure in recommending as a faithful and com
petent workman. [June 21—2m] R. J. MASSEY.
rALTTEIMTr
i EXCELSIOR SPRING BED.
THIS is an entirely new application of Spiral
Springs to Beds, making a more comfortable,
! neater and cheaper bed than ever offered before to the
! public.
j The peculiar position of the Springs elevates the head
slightly, saving the trouble of building up the head with
extra bolsters. PRICE ONLY SIX DOLLARS.
For sale by A. SHAW, Madison, Ga.
P. S.—l also manufacture to order other Spring Beds.
June 24, 1858 A. S.
Ludlow’s Infallible Cans.
SOMETHING that supercedes all other air-tight
Cans; they are self-sealing, which savCs you the
j trouble nnd expense, of using an exhauster, for sale by
Penfield, July 1, 1858 J. M. BOWLES.
PATENT MEDICINES, of almost any kind that
you may wish, fox sale by
| July 1, 1858 J. M. BOWLES.
PERSONS visiting Penfield during the ap
proaching Commencement, can find accommoda
tions at the house of .). 11. ENGLISH.
Penfield, July 8
EmTRISIsV
id)
BY NIT IS. NI. E. BRYAN.
PHASES IN A HUMAN EIFE.
BY -MARY E. BRYAN*.
No. 111.
LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM.
AND Claude St. Clair was heir to the estate of
Eldridge Hall —heir to a desert and a ruin;
for the landed inheritance was little better than
a barren heath, and the old Hall was fast decay
ing—a fit emblem of the fallen fortunes of the
family on which it was entailed. There were no
near kindred of his father’s name, but of the im
mediate branch of his mother’s family, there were
two brothers remaining: one a successful lawyer
and eminent politician in a northern metropolis;
the other the pastor of a small New England vil
lage. To the care of both of these had the mother
commended her son in a most affecting letter to
he opened after her death.
All who are acquainted with human nature will
readily tell which of the two brothers best ful
filled the last request of his sister. What time
had the bustling man of business, overwhelmed
by professional duties and in the heat of a polit
ical campaign, to do more than pause a moment
in the crowded thoroughfare of life and drop a
tear to the memory of his dead sister and a few
hasty lines of condolence to her orphan son ?
It was the humble clergyman, who. leaving his
parish and his family, hastened to press the lonely
boy to his warm, loving heart, and offer him a
quiet home in the pleasant parsonage, and his
own assistance in the studies he wished him to
continue.
So, in a few weeks after the old Ilall had been
made more desolate by the death of his mother,
Claude was domesticated in the pretty bird’s nest
cottage of his uncle ; and when time had lessened
the violence of his grief, he turned with renewed
interest to the studies that had been for a while
suspended. And surely, never was a place so
conducive to study and thought as the quiet rec
tory of Mr. Alwyn. There was the library, with
its perfect stillness; its air of inviting coolness;
its easy chairs and lounges; its ganzy, green cur
tains and windows, across which the mimosa
threw its great arms and nodded its graceful foli
age and rose-colored plumes all day to the breeze.
Then without, there was a wood path which
Claude learned to know well, winding down to
the rapid stream where he might lie, with the
mute companions—his books —on the shelving
rocks, beneath the shade of the hazels, or yet
more luxuriously, farther down, where the soft
moss imbedded the feet of the giant oaks.
Mr. Alwyn thought with complacency of the
retirement and isolation of the place, as conducive
to Claude’s scholastic progress. “ There is,” said
he to his excellent wife, “nothing here to tempt
the hoy—no gayety, no dissipation to lure him
away from his duties, and no flattery that is so
dangerous to young genius.” Ah! the worthy
clergyman forgot to name one other influence
more subtle and dangerous than all the rest; one
which, like the “ delicate Ariel,” cannot be con
fined by bolts and bars; an influence that lias
been the ruling power in the world ever since
Adam accepted death from the hand of the wo
man.
And who that has known its magnetic-power ;
who that has eaten of its “insane root;” who that
has built airy castles over Coke and Littleton,
dreamed golden dreams over the pages of Tacitus,
or stitched sweet fancies and tender thoughts in
to plain sewing, will not testify for me, that of all
the syrens that beset the path of duty, there are
none more fascinating nnd more dangerous than
—love.
Amid the shades of “Locust Grove” parsonage
lingered the spirit that should first trouble the
fountain of the young student’s heart.
Claude was an habitual early riser. Enthusi
! astic worshipper of the beautiful, as lie was, the
i radiant picture “ which God hangs daily inthe
glowing East,” was sufficient to lure him from his
morning dreams; and he found the early hours
best suited for study and reflection. Ilis thoughts
| had then the dewy freshness of the flowers, and
! the cheerful vigor of the lark’s up-soaring song.
He stood one morning on the bank of the river,
at a point which was called “Rock Bend,” from
the abrupt turn of the stream that here almost
doubled upon itself, and from the large, gray
rock, fringed with ferns that partly overhung the
bank. lie was watching the sunrise that crim
soned the pavilioned clouds, and, in a playful
mood, broke into an impromptu apostrophe to
the fire-thronged king of the spheres, calling, in
the classic style of the Virgil he was reading, upon
the naiads to lift their white arms from the cool
waters, the ymph3 and satyrs to come, vine-
PENFIELD, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 15, 1 858.
crowned, from their sheltered retreats, continu
ing, as his tones swelled to the close, to invoke
the dryads to
“Shake from their tresses green, night’s glittering
gems,
And with their murmuring voices welcome in
The coming of the day.”
“ Here!” responded a clear, sweet voice just
behind him, and Claude turned quickly to find
himself tis-a-vU with a lady on horseback, whose
approach his own abstraction and the roar of the
river, as it dashed over its rocky bed, had pre
vented his hearing. The lady was elegant, rather
than beautiful, and her rich habit and plumed
hat added to the grace of her fine figure and clas
sic head.
She bowed smilingly to the astonished Claude.
“I have been listening to your invocation,” she
said, “ and, being the only creature resembling
nymph or dryad within hearing, I have ventured
to respond to your call. Fancy me Dictynna
now, if your imagination is so elastic; though I
must confess my appearance is more in character 1
of an Amazon.”
“It would be no difficult task to imagine you
Venus herself,” said tho boy—forgetting his em
barrassment in his admiration of the graceful and
animated equestrienne.
“No compliments, if you please, sir poet,” said
the lady. “ Three seasons of belledom have ut
terly surfeited me with flattery. I came here to
recruit; to forget the glare of gas light; to ignore
bonnets and flounces and kidded dandies, with
their hackneyed compliments. But even in
Elen’s dale, I find that flattery has its votaries.
Mr. Meek, the school master, told me yesterday
that I looked like a morning-glory. What a
beautiful scene!” she continued, as the sun,
bursting through the gorgeous clouds, lit the sum
mits of the surrounding hills. “Will you give
me your hand to assist me in dismounting? I
should like to see if the top of this rock does not
command a fine view for to-morrow’s sketching;
and, by the way, you do not yet know what to
call me. lam neither nymph nor dryad, but
simply Anna Allston, of Philadelphia, cousin of,
Mr. Mason, whoso house you see through the
trees on the hill before us. I have been rustica
ting here for a week or two, and shall a
short time longer. Now, you have the introduc
tion, on my side at least, in full, and you”—she
hesitated and paused.
“ I am Claude St. Clair,” said the youth, think
ing, as Miss Allston loosened the strings of her
hat, that never before had sunbeams glinted
upon curls of more golden brown, or a complex:
ion more Hebe-like in its beauty.
“I knew that very well,” said the lady with a
light laugh, “ for I have heard of you, and I may
as well confess, have seen you more than once,
when you thought yourself unobserved. Though
not exactly a wood nymph, I have as a
fancy for roving as yourself, and finding our tastes
in this respect congenial, I determined to make
your acquaintance, not, however, in the stiff, for
mal manner lam SO thoroughly tired of. I think
we shall be good friends. ‘ You S¥£_&~£Qdt, I
know, by your eyes and by your impromptu ad
dress to the sun, which I happened to overhear.
You will not bore me with small talk, and we will
read and study together. It will be charming,
will it not?”
Claude signified his delight more by his inge
nuous blushes, than by the words he faltered out.
But her easy, accessible manner soon made him
forget liis boyish timidity, and in a short time, to
his own astonishment, he found himself reading
passages from Virgil’s Eclogues to his attentive
listener, and pointing out the peculiar beauties of
the poem.
And this was their introduction—thoir first
meeting, though afterwards their intercourse was
almost daily. And Claude, with his young heart
thirsting for affection ; with his quick fancy and
ardent temperament, soon learned to love Miss
Allston with all the romantic warmth of a first
passion. There was, in tho elegant and graceful
belle, that charm so irresistible, from its very nov
elty, to unsophisticated youths—the nameless
fascination of look and manner that can only
belong to a thorough woman of the world. It
was all new to Claude; his ideal had been a re
fined image of the blooming country maidens he
had known, but this delicate, graceful creature,
with her perfect taste in dress; her sprightly con
versation ; her winning smile and changeful voice,
seemed to him lovelier than aught his dreams
had ever pictured.
His passion was as refined as it was ardent. If
but a curl of her soft hair brushed his cheek, as
she bent over to look more closely at some marked
passage in a book he was reading, the blood would
mount to his brow, and his voice become inartic
ulate from emotion. The lightest touch of her
soft, white hand would send a thrill to his heart;
he oftered her flowers with the blushing timidity
of a child, and received and cherished her sim
plest gift with as much tender gratitude as if it
had been granted by a divinity. Such delicate,
unobtrusive devotion could not fail to touch and
interest the heart of the world-wearied woman.
It was, in its freshness, its purity and its simpli
city, such a contrast to the hackneyed homage
that had jaded and disgusted her in the circle of
her fashionable admirers. This sweet, simple
earnestness of look and tone; the pure senti
ments and sincere, unselfish worship of her poet
lover, were refreshing to the heart of the blase
belle, palled with “ the hack sights and sounds”
of worldly life. She neither understood nor ap
preciated the full value of the love so freely lav
ished upon her, but she found it very pleasant,
in those long summer evenings, to listen to his
sweet, strange thoughts; to watch the changeful
beauty of his expressive face and listen to him,
as wanning into confidence, he spoke of his am
bitious dreamings and gave utterance to the hopes
nestling like unfledged birds in his young heart.
At length, Miss Allston was summoned home,
and Claude, who had been wrapped in the brief
delirium of love, awoke to the pain of feeling
that the daily intercourse which for weeks had
been the course of tho sweetest, wildest joy, must
now end. l'ho evening before her departure, in
the summer parlor at Mr. Mason’s, when softened
almost to tears by her own, sad music, Miss All
ston had bowed her head upon the instrument —
Claude dared, for the first time in his life, to take
the little hand that lay across the keys, and—
how, he never remembered —in what words he
could never recall—to own his love and plead
with eloquent earnestness for a return. Miss
Allston half arose from the piano.
“My dear Claude,” she said, “ this is all non
sense. It was all very well to love me. Poets, I
suppose, should fall in love to feel the reality of
the emotions they desoribe, but when you speak
of engagement—of marriage, that is quite a differ
ent affair. It would be altogether too serious a
termiqatiQn t$ this petite <}fmedie. Do you kflQw,
that in spite of these”—and She pointed to her
jeweled arms and neck, “ and notwithstanding
my fashionable position and stylish manner of
living, I am, in reality, poor as a church mouse ?
Now, I know what you would say; but let me tell
von; love in a cottage, roses and fresh curds all
sound very pretty in romance, but arc egregious
humbugs to one of such extravagant tastes as I
have the misfortune to possess. Your poets will
tell you that a howl of moonlight is the standard
food of Cupid; but trust me, tins song is an ‘o’er
I true’ one,” and running her fingers lightly over
the keys, she sang:
“Young love is at homo on a carpet.,
And mightily likes his case ;
And love has an eye to a dinner,
And starves among shady trees.”
“Then,” said Claude indignantly, “you have
been trifling with me for your amusement. You
have purposely deceived and entrapped mo into
this confession.”
11 Mon enfant” replied the lady coolly, “pray
do not be so vehement. There is not the slight
est occasion for such excitement. I am three
years older than you are in time—ten years older
in worldly experience. Os course I expected you
should fall in love with me. Youths of your age
usually do, with every pretty face they chance to
see; but I knßw, also, that the feeling was a very
transient one, and I could not resist the tempta
tion of your society—-could not forego tho pleas
ure of playing Mary Chaworth to a second, youth
ful Byron. 1 knew my worldly wisdom would be
beneficial to you, and your freshness and simpli
city of service to me. Should this mutual pleas
ure and benefit be relinquished for so trivial a
thing as a boyish fancy?”
“Then, you have really loved me ?” said Claude,
seeing nothing but the hand she extended to
him and tho smile upon her sweet lips.
“ Claude,” said Miss Allston, touched by the
pleading pathos of his tones, “love is not for me.
I have steeled my heart against it long ago. From
my earliest childhood I was constantly told, that
through me must the decayed fortunes of our
proud family be re-instated. For this end was
I educated at a sacrifice, made to cultivate to the
utmost what graces I possessed, brought forward
in society by wealthy relatives, and early taught
that I must not listen to the pleadings of my own
heart; must forget, indeed, that I had one, and
strike boldly for a prize in the matrimonial lot
tery. I have done so. These few blissful weeks
were but the reprieve for which 1 stipulated, be
fore the final sacrifice. In a few days after my
return to Philadelphia, 1 shall give my hand to
the wealthy old merchant, whose miniature I
allowed you to think was that of my grandfather.
He is a millionaire, Claude. Congratulate me
upon my prize.”
Notwithstanding the levity of her tones, there
were tears in her eyes. They emboldened her
young lover, who had listened to her words with
mingled pity and surprise. A sudden rush of
tenderness overpowered his resentment.
“Ohl Anna,” he exclaimed, “this sacrifice
must not —I have little, it is true, but I can
work for you, darling. UwTitnTHkviUcheerfully,
gladly, if you would but love me in return. ‘
“Ma foil ” said Miss Allston, wiping with her
laced hankerckief the moisture from her long
lashes. “Do not be so silly, child. I have no
doubt that in time you will soar away like the
wonderful roe we read of in the Arabian legend,
and bring back golden stones from the mount of
knowledge; but the wings of the eagle must first
grow, my aspiring poet. And seriously, I wish
you a better fate than to link your destiny to
mine. I should be a clog to your ambition, and,
besides, you have no idea what a quantity of silks
and laces are requisite to my happiness, or how
utterly incapable lam of baking a pudding. I
have always been accustomed to luxury. No
matter if it was not mine, I enjoyed it, and can
not live without it.
No, Claude, you must find your happiness in
some gentler, fresher heart, and I will give my
consent to become mistress of Mr. Townsend’s
elegant establishment. If you ever visit Phila
delphia, or ever want a friend or home, you will
know where to find both. And now, good-bye.
I have promised to return some calls with my
aunt this evening, and must go.”
She bowed herself smilingly out of the room,
but came back again, stole up softly to the chair
of Clar.de, bent down, pressed her lips one mo
ment on his bowed forehead and was gone.
And so ended “young love’s dream.”
MORAL JAUNDICE.
I threw down my pen this evening to listen to
a conversation between my father and an acquain
tance from the country. It inculcated a moral
lesson. Shall I give it to you just as I ovei'-heard
it through the half-parted curtains of my window
that opened upon the piazza ?
“Fine day,” said my father in his cheery, ge
nial voice as he handed his visitor a chair.
“Umph!” responded a voice between a growl
and a melancholy whine, “ clear enough for that
matter, one of these wretched storm-breeders, as
I told my aon. We always have just such spells
of weather before a squall. Like enough by to
morrow we’ll have wind and hail, beating down
the corn and ruining what little is left of the
crops.”
“ Are not the crops good in your section ?” in
quired my father. “ All that I have seen this
season are remarkably fine.”
“I wish others could share their good luck,
then, 1 insure,” muttered the visitor. “I don’t
think we shall make our bread; and as for the
cotton crop, it’s a perfect failure. There wont be
a dozen pounds made to the acre. Notliing pros
pers there but the doctors.”
“ Indeed! I thought your neighborhood a very
healthy one,” interposed my father.
“ It’s no worse than the rest of the State. The
whole country’s nothing but a graveyard. We
have sickness all around us. Not a sound liver
in the country, if you’ll believe me, sir; and the
physicians don’t understand their business. Ar
rant quacks, every one of them.”
My father uttered, as in politeness bound, a
kind of negative sound of commiseration; and
then, as a last resort, turned the conversation
upon a topic that is the unfailing resource of men.
“Politics are rather dull at present,” he said;
“ what do you think of the signs of the times?”
“ Bad ! bad! as bad they can be. There are
no parties and no politics. All is confusion and
misrule. It will end in civil war and bloodslted.
I knew it; I prophesied it long ago, and its coon
ing to pass—that, or the end of the world, I
don’t know which. Such wickedness can’t go
long unpunished.”
Here the entranoe of A servant with a waiter of
fruit interrupted the edifying conversation, and
the dissatisfied individual, after mumbling some
thing about indigestion and dyspepsip, and assert-
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
VOL. XXIV. NUMBER 27
ing that fruit was so much poison at this sickly
season—ended by helping himself bountifully.
Prompted by a curiosity to see this importunate
personage, I drew the curtain slightly aside and
stole a peep at the visitor. I was sure of it ; I
knew that lie looked just so, and that I could
have singled him out among a dozen others. No
other face would have belonged to an inveterate
croaker, and the index to the character was fully
legible in the elongated visage, the mouth drawn
down at the corners, the dull eyes, billious com
plexion and crab apple physiognomy generally.
Os all the disagreable characters that it requires
to make a world, that of the habitual grumbler is
the most tiresome and unbearable. It is his de
light to complain. He finds pleasure in profess
ing himself miserable and making others so. It
is his needful stimulant, and as necessary to him
as a morning dram is to the inveterate toper.
He is really glad of an occasion to vent his ill
humor, and if none happens to present itself, his
imagination readily invents one. His presence
carries a shadow wherever he goes.
Innocent mirth he stigmatizes as sinful frivolity,
religious zeal as hypocrisy, friendship as a deceit
and love a ridiculous folty. He sees a cloud in
every fair sky, and prophesies more ill luck and
multiplied disasters than Madame Salvo when
consulted in an after-dinner fit of indigestion.
If you meet him with a light heart and a pleasg
ant smile, he speedily dispels both, and croaks
you into the belief that life is a miserable cheat,
the world a cess-pool of wickedness and yourself
a friendless, pitiable creature—leaving you in
doubt whether to commit suicide, or find relief
in a passion of hysterical tears.
I have elsewhere spoken of the literary croaker
who mistakes his morbid fancies for indications
of genius, and afflicts his unending complaints on
all who have patience to peruse them. And yet,
this unhappy disposition is not confined to medi
ocrity and would-be litterateures. It has thrown
its sombre shade over minds of undoubted talent,
making them perceive everything through a
jaundiced medium, magnifying evils, diminishing
M cuminU darkening even the beauty cf the fair
®avth, thesky and human face divine, and draping
tho muse who should be clothed in garments of
light, with tho dark, trailing robes of sorrow.
And this, too, when the province of the poet is to
cheer, and to bless when he is ordained by God
as priest of the holy temple of Nature, and pro
fesses to interpret its oracles to man. What
would you think of a German writer of genius
calling the blessed stars “coffin nails in the black
cloth of night,” while another morosely terms
them “the shining leprosy of Heaven?”
M. E. B.
A BATH OF YOUTH.
I FEEL to-night as though I had been quaffing
a goblet from the rejuvenating fountain of
Ponec de Ison, or else oaten of tho lotus leaves
that sets the fancy dreaming, for I have been sit*
ting idly here with the summer moon-light fall
ing over me through the acacia boughs that shade
my window, wandering back hand in hand with
rrrSrAQfV through the chequered scenes of child
hood, of the gray
am, should be filling this blank sheet of fools
cap that lies before me with thoughts on the
grave subject of “reform” that I have written at
the top of the page —written that only, and then
allowed the pen to drop from my hand, and Fan
cy to loosen the reins from the grasp of Reason.
I know wliat it is that lias set these memory bells
to ringing their half-mournful feelings in my
heart. I have sat to-day within walls where, a
few short yeacs ago, I was a young student, and
witnessed a scholastic exhibition in the same
room that lias been the scene of similar ones in
the past, in which I, too, bore a part. I have
seen youthful faces, childish tears and blushes,
and listened to sweet young voices whose clear,
flute-like music floats over me now.
The friends and patrons of Miss Hansell, prin
cipal of the Female Seminary in Thomasville, as
sembled this evening to hear the exercises that
closed the session, and terminate also the labors
of the accomplished preceptress and her young
assistant, in this place. The girls acquitted them
selves admirably, and the whole school having
been taught vocal music gratuitously, gave evi
dence how greatly they had improved since tho
last concert, and sang with much taste and sweet
ness a number of beautiful and difficult songs, in
which the grave and gay were properly mingled.
The preparatory class is certainly the most charm
ing and loveable assemblage of children I ever
beheld ; just such a band of sylphlike forms, in
white muslin and pink ribbons; such a constel
lation of blue and brown eyes, brim full of sub
dued mischief*; such light curls playing hide
and seek over dimpled shoulders, and such tiny
slippered feet that even in repose “ seem dream
ing a tune,” must surely have danced through
the imagination of Shakspeare and suggested his
queen Titania and her fairy train. Alas ! that
these charming little girls must grow up into
fashionable young ladies, confine their short curls
with a comb, forget to be artless and learn to flirt
and to simper. Alas! that the bud must become
a blossom; that time must brush the soft down
from the ripening fruit.
The Senior class was composed of young ladies
on the eve of womanhood; but even their sweet
voices grew tremulous, when tho parting song
filled the room with its mournful music, and their
lips quivered as they sang:
“Ah! ’tis aa hour of sadness:
There’s a hush in every heart,
As the thought keeps welling upward—
The thought that we must part.”
The compositions were well, ana in some in
stances, excellently written, and the valedictory
—read by a dark-haired girl, with large, intellec
tual eyes—was fraught with pathos and heart
eloquence. When the exercises were over, and
the dear old room vacated by the audience, the
tears that had been pressed back fiom the blue
and brown eyes overflowed in summer showers.
And well might they bo sorrowful. Not soon
shall the place of Miss Hansell and her assistant
be supplied in the seminary. Not soon shall they
find teachers so accomplished, so patient, so wor
thy of all respect and admiration.
From Thomasville Misses Hansell and Arm
strong will go to fill their engagement with Pro
fessor Hendee, of the Female College at Greenes*
boro’, where we hope they will find awaiting them
hearts as warm and pupils as affectionate as those
they leave behind. M. E. B.
H *
The following epitaph may be found upon .a tomb*
sttpne in Connecticut:
“Here lies cut down like unripe fruit*
The wife of Deacon Amos Shute;
She died of drinking too much coffee,
Anny Doroiny eighteen forty.b