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JOHN 11. SEALS,
NEW SERIES, VOLUME 111.
OEOKOIAVvCP
’sm'm'SMm^mm&^m.
Published every Thursday in the year, except two.
# TERMS: Two Dollars per year, in advance*
JOHN H. Sl£.\ !./£>. Sole Proprietor.
LIONEL L. VEAZEY,Editor brmm Dtp’tm’i.
MRS. M. E. BRYAN, EurrnEss.
JOHN A. REYNOLDS, Vchushm.
C23o.aa.Chs CB3x3<3S3a
Clubs ok Ten Names, by sending the Cash,
will receive the paper ut .... slsos copy.
Ci.trßs of 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:
Rates of Advertising:
1 square, (twelve lines or less,) first insertion, $1 00 I
“ Each continuance, 50 !
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding six
lines, per year, 3 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, 3 00
Standing Advertisements:
Advertisements not marked with the number of
insertions, will be continued until forbid, and charged
accordingly.
jZEiT’Merchants, 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:
Sules 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
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
lie Guzette./orfy days previous to the day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be given
at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notices to Debtors and Creditors of an estate, must i
be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court oi j
Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must be pub
lished weekly for two months.
Citations for Letters of Administration, must be pub
lished thirty days —for Dismission from Administration
monthly , six months —for Dismission from Guardianship,
firrty 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 AN!) PLACE.
KING- Ac LEWIS, Attcn~ncys at Law, Greenes-
Boko, Ga. The undersigned, having associated
themselves together itt 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. kino. July 1, 1858. m. w. lewis.
WHIT G. JOHNSON, Attorney at Law,
Augusta, Ga. will promptly attend to all business
intrusted to his professional management in Richmond
and the adjoining counties. Office on Mclntosh street,
three doors below Constitutionalist office.
Reference —Titos. R. R. Cobb, Athens, Ga.
June It ly^
Roger l. whigivam, Louisville, Jes- j
ferson county, Georgia, will give prompt attention
to any business intrusted to his care, in the following
counties : Jefferson, Burke, Richmond, Columbia, War
ren, Washington, Emanuel, Montgomery, Tatnall and
Seriven. April 26, 1856 ts
T EONARD 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 tlie counties ot 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, Hancock,
Wilkes and Warren. Feb ly
pHILLIP IS- ROBINSONf, Attorney at
A Law, Greenesboro, Gu. will practice in the coun
ties of Greene Morgan, Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliafer
ro, Hancock, Wilkes and Warren. July 5, ’56-1 v
J AMES BROWN, Attorney at Law, Fancy
Hill, Murray Cos. Ga. April 30, 1857.
AaiT 1 ~
THE firm of J. S. ISAHNWELL & CO. will bo
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. Barnwell 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 24—2m] R. J. MASSEY.
EXCELSWIf SPRING BED.
is an entirely new application of Spiral
JL Springs to Beds, making a more comfortable,
neater and cheaper bed than ever offered before to the
public.
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. —I also manufacture to order other Spring Beds.
June 24, 1858 A. S.
PENFIELD AND GREENESBORO
ALUiLTACKS or any desired accemmo-
XT dation, waiting the arrival of each
train. Passengers for Penfield, Scull Shoals, Dr. Dur
ham’s, Watkinsville, Watson’s Springs or any other
point, will be carried thither safely and promptly.
Passengers from any of these points desiring to meet
any of” the trains, can rind like accommodation. Prices
moderate.
Good horses and conveyances, with or without dri
ver. CASH v.’ill be required.
I have Horses and Buggies for hire at my stable in
Penfield. H. NLESON, Jr.
July 15, 1858
CUBES GUAEANTEED!
CANCERS AND SCKCiI LA CI'KKH.
OKE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN CASES CURED LAST YEAR, 1637.
PAMPHLETS containing testimonials of the
highest character, as to his success, will be forwar
ded to any that may wish them. Those wishing to test
the efficacy of Dll CL OP TON'S WONDERFUL
REMEDIES, must give a correct description of the
disease, its appearance in its incipient stage, progress,
present condition, location, &c.
A three cent postage stamp must accompany all com
munications. Address J. A. CLOPTON, M. D
July 15, 1858 ly Huntsville, Ala.
Special Accommodation for Travellers.
T VISITORS to P^nfield during the
V approaching Commencement, are
informed that I will have hacks, buggies and baggage
wagons running between Pcnfield and Greenesboro lor
their special accommodation. wip'pnv T*
July 15-2 t H. NEESON, J*.
PERSONS visiting Penfield during the ap
proaching Commencement, can find accommoda
tions at the house of J. II- ENGLISH.
• Penfield, July 8 ——
/abJ7RE&H EXCELSIOR SODA, on hand and for
tale by [July 13] J. M. BOWLES.
An Earnest Appeal.
VJKCFSSITY compels me to make nil earnest
1 . appeal to those who are indebted to me for 1856
and ’57, for help. I need money to carry on my bnsi
‘ ness, and a small sum from each one whose account is
t past due, would ntako me easy. Shall I appeal in vain (
| 1 July 8 __ w. B. SEALS.
A X I)
LOVERS OF GOOD THINGS, FRESH AND PURE,
JUST give ‘ Old Mao’ a eall- he’s always ready
to supply the wants of those who may tuvor him
with their patronage. What’ll you have ?
A saucer of Cream,
A Lemonade,
j Oranges &. Bananas,
Peaeans & 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!
at short notice. Call, examine and eat.
He may still be found at his old place.
Greenesboro, June 10, 1858 D. McDONALD.
bi 9
SURGEON & MECHANICAL DENTIST,
gHßofljpßkn TYI 0ULI) inform his friends that he
his engagements at White Mt.
Zion, Oxford and Penfield. May 13, 1858-tfjan
THE firm of COE & LATIMER is this day dis
solved by mutual consent. H. A. COE,
Greenesboro, May let, 1858 J. S. LATIMER.
The practice will be continued by
§(? &B
who will visit
Oxford,
Penfield,
White Plains,
Mount Zion,
Worrenton,
Elberion, j
Dunielsville j
Fort Lamar,
ot which duo notice will be given inthe Crusader and
Gazette. Permanent office in J. CUNNINGHAM'S
BLOCK, G R E ENESB O R O.
May 13, 1858 tjanl
• F A3l now well supplied with a larg c
L and complete assortment of PLAIN an' 1
(■pis FANCY CABINET FURNITURE, em
-11 I T* bracing every article in this line of business,
many of which are necessary to render Jiomc pleasant
and comfortable :
WARDROBES, Rosewood, Mahogany, Walnut; !
BUREAUS, do do do
WASH STANDS, do do Mart).Tops;
QUAR TETTE TA BLES, Rosewood and do
SOFA TABLES, do do
SIDE-BOARDS, Mahogany ;
CARD A CENTRE TA BLES, Mahogany ; j
ROCKERS, Rosewood, Mahog. Maple & Walnut;
CHAIRS, Rosewood, Mahog. Maple and Walnut; j
BEDSTEADS, elegant Designs and Finish ; t
SOFAS; BOOK-CASES ; FOLD. TABLES }
WASH STANDS; WARDROBES, Ac. <f-c.
PICTURE FRAMES, Gilt and Rosewood,
Any of the above-named articles purchased, will bo
carefully boxed and delivered at the depot,
free of OHARen.
7\ T . B—Sofas, Rocking Chairs, &c. repaired neatly
and with dispatch.
1 buy and manufacture none but iho BEST of work,
and tliose who are disposed to purchase from me can
relv upon setting good articles on the most reasonable
terms. ~ A. SHAW,
June 24—3 t Madison, Go.
WMf El _ (BRASS.
THE subscriber offers for sale 25 or 30 bushels
of the Winter Grass-seed, (known ns (lie Iverson
Grass—he having the reputation of introducing the
same imo Georgia.) Having raised three crops of this
Grass, 1 am decidedly of ihc opinion that it is the best
that has ever been introduced into this section, it being
far preferable to rye or brrley for lots or grazing purpo
ses. It grows luxuriantly all winter —hard freezes or
heuvy rains being no interference. It improves the land
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 be sown at any time from June until October
and do well. 1 will refer the public to a perusal of the
Circular of Hon. B. V. Iverson. Any person who de
sires to procure the Grass-seed from me can do so by
early application, and have it sent to any place which
they may designate. D. HERRON.
N. B. Any further information wanting can be ob
tained by addressing me at Penfield. D. If.
Penfield, Ga. June 3, 1858 8t
CERATOCIILOA BREVIARISTATA |
Or, Short Awn Horn Grass. i
Columbus, Ga. Sept. 29th, 1850.
To the Planters, Farmers and Stock Raisers of Greene
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 Raiser !
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 ,
nay and restoring worn out fields, it has no superior, j
This grass has the following valuable qualities, which
many year’s experience has abundantly demonstrated: j
Ist it has the largest seed of any known species of
grass, being nearly as 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 ns Millet or Lucerne.
I 7th It is as nutritious as barley, and stock arc as fond
j of it as they are of that.
| Bth It will keep horses, mules, cattle, sheep, goats, !
; hogs and poultry fat throughout the winter and spring, •
i from November to May.
t 9th It will then (the stock being withdrawn, and the ,
ground being rich) yield from three to four tons of ex
cellcnt hay per acre, cutting when the seed is green (in
milk) each time.
10th It saves corn and fodder being fed away to slock
during the winter and spring.
11th 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.
13th It will (if-followed with our cornfield pea or
bean) give to farmers 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 nmn
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.
15th 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 be found, by all who cultivate it, far superior to
j any other species ever introduced, or which can be in
! troduced, for the climate and soil of our country.
B. V. IVERSON.
ALL persons are hereby warned against and
forbid trading for a note of hand dated the third of
March last, for one hundred and thirty dollars, payable
ninety days after its date, given by mo to McGee &, Cos.
the consideration for which said note was given having
failed. THOMAS W. S. LEWIS.
July 8, 1858
THE subscriber will open his house for the ACCOM
MODATION OF VISITORS during the ap
proaching COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES. .
July Ist, 1838 W. B. SEALS.
THE ADOPTED ORGAN OF ALL TF.MPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS IF4 THE STATE.
l f i 1e L> rßtfioAss’ X\
| BY MRSI M. 1-7. BRYAN.
j LEAVES FROMMY PORTFOLIO,
SY MARY E. BRTAX.
No. 11.
AN HOUR WITH OLD MEMORIES.
” Please,” said our colored household fairy,
holding my door ajar and thrusting her head in
to the room, “ Missis says, see if these ’ere’s any j
’count, ’cause if they aint, I’m to bum out the
parlor chimney with ’urn.”
j “ What are they ?” I asked, a little impatiently,
for I was very busy and disliked interruption.
“ Tliey’ae some ’o your sense papers, mem —a 1
whole pile of Tm.”
I looked up quickly, for this was the original 1
appellation she bad bestowed upon my manu- }
scripts, which, lam sorry to say, are not always 1
snugly placed in the portfolio designed for their 1
accommodation. 1
Taking from her hand the quantity of frag
mentary sheets, scribbled over in hieroglyphics
that would have puzzled any one but myself to
, decipher, I bade her close the door and leave mo
; alone —alone with the memories that lingered
1 around tho3e musty old papers; for, I saw by a
glance at the scarcely legible characters, that
the manuscripts dated back years in the past—
were, in fact, a package 1 had thought long ago
destroyed; but I could not now resist the temp
tation of opening them and glancing over their
contents. They were fragments in prose and
verse, written, some of them in my school days,
while others, by the cramped chirography and
want of capitals, pointed farther back to the dim,
sweet time of earlier childhood. Alas! I could
not smile i\t these stained and blotted records of
the past. It was, as though suddenly in the cool
obscurity of my silent chamber, the shadowy forms
of ghosts had risen up before me—the ghosts of
dead hopes and joys conjured up by those old
manuscripts. I read the words written upon
them with dimmed eyes, and, reading, almost
doubted my own identity, and fairly shrank be
foro the apparition they brought before me.
“ What ghost,” asks Bulwer, “can the church
yard yield to us like the writing of the dead ?” I
answer, that the records of one’s own living heart,
traced when feeling and fancy were in their
morning freshness, and read when a weary waste
of years lies, like desert sands, between the green
oasis of that time and the present, has power to
invoke a yet more mournful spirit from the “vasty
deep” of the soul. Who would not sooner con
front tiie sheeted spectre of his ancestor, than
to turn and meet—himself—himself as he existed
five, ten, or, it may be, a score or more years ago?
Who would not quail before that vision ; before
the calm, truthfulness of those innocent eyes, of
that unsullied brow, or before tlie flushed cheek
and beaming glance of youth in its prime, reveal
ing hopes and joys long buried, and trust at
which experience has learned to sneer? Aye,
think you not the heart would tremble with a
feeling akin to awe, at the change time has
wrought, in itself?
It is even thus in writing. Eacli sentence is a
likeness struck off from ourselves—our inner selves
• —as we then were ; a photograph of the heart,
which years have so transformed that we marvel
if it is the same; for thoughts and feelings that
then held high revels in its chambers are now
entombed in a sepulchre, to whoso mouth is
rolled the stone of eternal silence.
But I was growing melancholy. There were
tears falling silently upon that heap of useless
papers. 1 swept them from my eyes, threw back
the curtain, and, as the glorious sunshine streamed
through the room, and the breath of jasmine and
mignonette floated past, the glxosts vanished be
fore their cheering influence, and I sat down
more quietly, to look over the “ -sense papers” be
fore they were condemned to answer household
purposes.
First among them was an old account book,
| used by my father in his business transactions,
j and also as a receptacle, where was jotted down
a number of receipts and infallible remedies for
the aches and bruises of man and beast, lie had
; given it to me, when a child, to scribble and draw
! in ; and among the directions for making bitters
! and curing horses, are interspersed verses, scrawled
| in a childish hand, whose measure and rliymth
would have horrified the fastidious poet, who
i himself “lisped in numbers, tor the numbers
came.” This old book was my confidant. Isola
ted, lonely child that I was, I poured out on its
• pages the strange thoughts that came to me in
! my solitude—the longings that haunted my soul
jin its lonely drenmings. Not even to my mother,
j whom I half worshipped, did I tell all I confided
j to this book.
| It is before me now, its back half torn away, ita
pages bearing traces of “ time’s effacing finger,”
, and my father’s bold hand, in his recipes and
; arithmetical calculations, contrasting singularly
enough with my stiff, awkward penmanship—type
:of the prose and poetry of life. But such poetry!
‘ Having no claim to the title, save in the honest
pathos of the sentiments, the sincere tenderness
,of the quaintly expressed thoughts; the half
’ formed ideas struggling up through awkward
phraseology that encumbered them. Shall I
• transcribe a specimen for you ? Will you smile
; at its simplicity, and, dropping the paper from
| your hands, give a thought to your own vanished
■ childhood ? Ah! then, my object is gained. We
. i are all better and purer for sometimes recalling
our youth.
“The sycamore” is the title of a little poem on
tho first page, written on removing from the
: home where the eurliest years of my life were
; spent.
My world was then bounded by my father’s
| fields, for 1 had only seen my ninth summer, and
! had known no teacher but my mother.
Farewell to thee, dear sycamore,
Old earliest friend of yore;
I shull never see the more.
\ . How I loved the airy swing,
’Mid thy branches in the spring!
Or, with orange thorns to marlt
Figures on thy yielding bark.
And oft beneath thy shade
Has my sister with me played.
, Alas! those hours are gone;
L I am lonely and forborn;
U For I leave this summer morn
The.sweet home that gave me birth,
• To roam on the wide earth.
M
There is more of it, but this is quite enough.
[ i The “ wide earth” has reference only to the re
! ! moval into an adjoining country little more than
j thirty miles distant; but what of that? With
i out doubt, it seemed, to the inexperience of the
PENFIELD, GEORGIA/THURSDAY, JULY 22, 185 8.
child, as remote as India or China would do to
maturer years. The sycamore, thus tenderly re
membered, is a superb tree, whose silken balls
we children gathered from the third story win
dows of our home, while higher still towerd the
umbrageous boughs, and threw a broad circle of
shadow around it. I had, last summer, the mel
ancholy pleasure of standing beneath the shade
of its silver-lined leaves and writing my name
with a gold pencil upon the bark where I had
traced, with an “orange thorn,” my rude initials.
On the following pages are other juvenile at
tempts at verse. One, called “ The orphan girl,”
and representing a disconsolate child in a beg
gar’s garb, seated on a stone by the wayside,
And she had wandered far that day,
Through wood and field and glen,
Where eddying waters sportive play,
v And through busy haunts of men.
But wliat became of her, this history does not
say; for it breaks off abruptly, to give place to
another in more ainbitious style, headed an “ epic
poem,” and designed to resemble Pope’s Eloisa
and Abelard, which I had just read with eager de
light, though I must confess, without understand
ing a tithe of its meaning. This “ epic” was my
pride and treasure, until the impossibility of
rhyming a necessary word terminated the ele
gant poem in the middle of its fifth to. It
was called “ Adah and Aberlich,” and began with
the separation of tho lovers, on a moonlit sea
shore:
Farewell! farewell! we meet no moro
Upon this loved and healthful shora.
Farewell! farewell! perchance forever,
Yet never, dearest Adah, never
Will lade thine image from my soul,
Though ocean’s waves between us roll.
What laughable nonsense! and yet it seemed
then really sublime; and as I read it aloud with
no other auditor than Carlo my canine favorite,
I pictured the applause that would greet its de
but in the world—yes, in the world; for by this
time the spirit of ambition had been developed,
and 1 read, with throbbing heart, the lines of the
gifted ones whom the world delighted to honor,
and asked of the future no higher boon than to
bestow on me the smallest portion of their famo.
On the next page is begun what is intended to
be a novellette at the least, but which progressed
only a few chapters, owing to the difficulty of de
ciding whether the heroine should be a blonde
or a brunette, which occasioned a delay that re
sulted in an abrupt “finis” to the “Ocean Isle.”
I smile now over the ludicrous incongruities and
disconnected plot, but then 1 am sure that Du
mas, Junior, when fame and gold followed the
entree of his “ Lady of the Camellias,” was not
more elated than I, when my mother, with her
hand on my short curls, said: “It does very well
for my little girl.”
Farther on are a few stanzas, bearing testimony
to the Worth and beauty of Maggie W. my desk
companion, and the gentle monitress of my child
hood:
Maggie’s brow is snowy fair.
Golden brown is Maggie’s hair;
And all the blue of April skies
Smiles in Maggie’s azure eyes.
But death sealed the blue eyes with his icy touch,
and claimed the loveliness for his own. Maggie
is in Heaven.
From the leaves of the memorandum book falls
a sheet written in more decided panmansliip and
bearing traces of an earlier date; only four years
ago, in fact; and yet, bow vast the experience
crowded in those four years! lioav much of life
contained in their narrow circle! for
“We liTe in deeds, not years, in thoughts, not breaths,
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.”
It is sorrow that matures us. Many a heart is
wrinkled long before the brow, and every hour
of those few year’s has left ita searing footsteps on
heart and brain. But the poem —it is the record
of a very sad era in my life, which, as 1 look back
to it now, seems like a troubled dream. My
childish wish had then been realized. I had
seen my name, or my nom de plume, at least, in
print, and the reader will excuse the egotism ap
parent in the first stanzas ; for the girl of sixteen,
whose juvenile efforts had been praised and pub
lished by partial friends, might readily be par
doned for imagining herself possessed of the po
etic genius, whose existence maturer years would
have led her to doubt. The poem referred to, is
dated “ Red River Banks, La. April 20th,” and
inscribed
TO MY MOTHER Ilf ABSESOE.
Once more my lyre my hand shall seek
To strike thy trembling string,
Although thy notes be faint and weak,
And sad the lay I sing.
Yet will I bid thee once again
Awake thy slumbering powers ;
For oft in listening to thy strain,
I’ve whiled the lonely hours.
Then breath thy music, oh! my lyre;
Catch inspiration’s beam;
But what shall now my song inspire—
Say, what shall be my theme t
Shall Love, the immortal, guide the hand
That strays thy chords along;
That spirit which, in every land,
Inspires the poet’s song f
To him belong their sweetest lays—
His heavenly birth they sing;
But ah! there's passion in his gaze.
And earth-stains on his wing.
Shall, then, the nobler task be mine
To sing of deathless fame;
Os those .who bowed before her shrine
And won a glorious names
No; fame may not ray song inspire—
No laurel wreath I’ll twine.
Gently I’ll strike the echoing lyre—
A dearer theme be mine ;
For mother, thou my muse shall be;
Thy daughter's simple strain
Shall flow like incense back to thee,
O’er land and billowy main.
And It shall whisper to thy heart
That mine can ne’er forget.
These tears that all unbidden Btarf
Shall tell thou’rt cherished yet.
Os thee I think when sad and lone;
At eventide I roam
To list the river’s sullen tone,
And watch its hunying foam.
Spring, fresh and flagrant, cometb now,
This stranger land to greet,
With wreaths of jasmine on her brow
And violets at her feet.
With murmured song of breeze and stream,
And bird on soaring wing—
Alas! like funeral wails they seem—
Those voices of the spring.
On wood, or hill, or sunny skies,
Whore e’er my glarec may dwelt.
The parling look of thy sad eyes
Is on mclike a spell.
And the wood violet, blooming wild,
l pluck with reverent care,
Ana think how oft, a happy child,
I’ve twined it in thy hair.
But childhood’s blissful dream is o’er—
Fled is my life’s young May j
My once loved home is mine no more,
• And I am far away.
Beside thy couch I may not stand,
When sicknesa pales thy brow ;
I may not hold thy clasping hand,
Nor watch thy slumbers now.
I know ’twere wrong to eloud thy brow
j With griefs I can but bear;
I know full well, of earthly wo,
J Thy lift has had its share;
Yet, oh! to lay my aching brow
onn more oil thy dear breast
And weep these burning tears that now
Back to my heart are pressed.
Oh! but to kneel beside thy knee,
As in the days gone by,
Forgetting all but God and thee.
And breathe one prayerful sigh,
For strength to bear the grievous wo
To my young spirit given—
Oh! I would ask on earth, I know,
No higher boon of Heaven.
Alae 1 this is saddest of all. Can you conceive
anything more mournful than a young heart
whose experience of the world has been bounded
by the walls of a school-room and of a home of
most indulgent love, suddenly awakening from
the dream of life to its bitterest realities; and its
idols all clay, the rainbow-hopes transformed to a
mist of tears, stretching forth its arms in desolate
anguish, with one yearning, pleading prayer for
“ mother;” longing for nothing on earth, so much
as to be pillowed for one blessed moment on her
faithful bosom, feel the clasp of her dear arms
around the quivering form, and the touch of her
lips that never failed to soothe, upon the throb
bing brow as in days gone by ?
I can recall the scene —aye, the very spot where
these lines were written. Jt is all before me now
—the gloomy, western forest, dark with the shad
ows of moss-hung trees and broad-leaved vines;
the sullen wail of the swollen tide; the river with j
its blood-liued waters and wreaths of foam, like
those which lie, all stained with gore, around the
lips of murdered men. The twilight gathers
round me now, the feeling of deep, deep loneli-1
ness settles like death around my heart, and the I
muttering river speaks of rest that the unquiet I
spirit may find beneath its cold, dark waters. I
Rest! rest! Think you that there are not times I
when man, in his despair, would barter fame, I
gold, life—aye, immortality itself, for one draught I
front sunless lethe—one brief, blessed hour of I
rest—perfect rest—pain, feeling, soul all annihi-l
lated ? I can well unerstand why it is, that among I
atheists and pagans, suicide is of such frequent I
occurrence; for there are times in the history of I
all deeply sensitive and fiercely tried natures } I
when naught but a sense of God’s overlooking I
eye, a thought of the future holding them back, I
like the strong arm of an angel, prevents their I
severing at once the frail cable of life. Thank I
God! that such hours of trial are but brief; that I
the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb; that
the soul recovers its balance, the brow is lifted
up bravely again, and the heart goes out from the
shadow to battle again with the world and learn
in the conflict
“ Ilow sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.”
REFORM.
IT is the universal cry of this progressive age.
We hear it from the pulpit; from the stump; I
from the forum ; from the press. All admit that I
there are great social and political errors; all
agree that the hoary old sinner—society—has a
chronic disease, and all are ready to pronounce
sage opinions upon the case; hut alas! that “ doc
tors will disagree.” The evils of society have fur
nished men with a fruitful topic ever since they
had enlightenment enough to perceive them.
Reformers have deplored them, denounced them
and suggested and urged various remedies, but
the plague spots still remain. As to the precise
nature of these social ills, mankind differ as
greatly as they do in regard to the means by
which the reform is to he effected.
Yonder pale student will lookup from his musty
volumes and tell you that knowledge is to be the
world’s redemption; that enlightenment must be
universal, before wrong and injustice are done
away with. The grave divine will tell y<& the
same of religion, while yonder wild-eyed individ
ual, who is a spiritualist and amesmeriser, speaks
excitedly of soul affinities, and, untombing the
mystic ideas of the Rasicrucians, believes that
the millenium of the world shall come, when
spirits hold unrestrained communication with
men. Another, who has brought a Parisian
moustache and “ liberal views” from his Euro
pean tour; who has taken a fancy to his friend’s
wife, or finds his own unmanageable, rails at ty
rannical prejudice and public opinion, and advo
cates free love and social independence, while his
friend, who has suffered from an endless lawsuit,
complains bitterly of the injustice practised in
legislative halls, hints darkly at revolution and
asserts that the whole constitution should be re
modeled. .Still another, who envies his rich
neighbor’s luxuries, contends for equality of
wealth and station, while his employer elevates
his aristocratic nose and wonders what society is
coming to, when such plebian fellows are allowed
to give themselves such airs. The fierce looking
Captain of a militia company declares that the
sword is the only effective instrument of reform
and sneers at his quaker neighbor who meekly
advocates universal philanthrophy, vegetable
diet and perpetual peace.
Listen to the zealous partisan of some political
candidate, and he will tell you that the constitu
tion is tottering to its fall, and can only be up
held by the election of his distinguished friend.
“ There is corruption in high places,” he will
shout.—
“ The country is in danger, and all is going wrong i
We call on every voter to do his best for Strong.”
Honest farmer knows little, and cares less,
about all this, but thinks the country might be
greatly improved by lessening the taxes, putting
down extravagance and encouraging honest labor
and home manufactures. One restless individual
would urge society forward at rail road velocity,
and cries “ progress! progress! onward! no rest,
lest the world sagnate;” while Jack, the lazy
loafer, basking in the sunshine of a side alley,
thinks it all nonosense; wonders why people
can’t be content to let well enough alone, and
; take the world easy ; is sure he should, if the po
lice would lot him ei\joy his quiet dram in peace,
but thinks, at the same time, that if people are
anxious for something to bother about, they had
better look into the condition of the distilleries ;
“ The whiskey is getting to be execrable stuff,,
and so dear that no decent Christian can afford
it.”
And thus is “ reform” the cry of the world,
aud amid the deep base of masculine voices,
sounds the shrill tenor of female reformers, de
manding equal righte-equal privileges—equal
pantaloons.
Meantime, the world is working out its own
destiny. The multiform evils of society are but
fractional parts in the great plan of Deity—that
plan which seems, to our j>artial sight, so defec
tive and wanting in order and harmony, but
whose wisdom and perfection we shall see and
adore, when “ the carpet is turned,” and hidden
things made plain. M. E. B.
An unbridled tongue, though a little member,
ft a big man for mischief.
editor and proprietor.
VOL. XXIV. NUMBER 28
THE SECRET OF HAPPINESS,
“ Well,” said Debby, “ contentment is a good
thing, and a rare; but I guess it dwells most
where people would least expect to find it. -
There’s Ellen Bruce ; she has had troubles that
would fret some people to death, and yet I have
seldom seen her with a cloudy face.”
“llow do you account for that, Miss Debby?
I am curious to get at this secret of happiness, for
I have been in great straits sometimes for the
want of it.”
“Why, I'll tell you. Now, Ellen, I don’t mean
to praise you”—and she looked at Ellen, while
an expression of affection spread over her rough
featured face. “ The truth is, Ellen has been so
busy about making other people happy, that she
has no time to think of herself; instead of griev
ing about her own troubles, she has tried to les
sen other people’s; instead of talking about her
own feelings, and thinking about them, you
would not know 6he had any, if you did not see
she always knew just how other people felt.”
“ Btop, stop, Deborah, my good friend,” 6aid
Ellen; “you must not turn flatterer in your old
age.”
“ Flatterer! The Lord have mercy on you, girl;
nothing was farther from my thoughts than flat
tering. 1 meant just to tell this young lady, for
her information, that the secret of happiness was
to forget yourself, and care for the happiness of
other’s.”
“ You are right—l believe you are right,” said
Miss Campbell, with animation ; “ though I have
practised very little after your golden rule.”
“The more’s the pity, young woman; for,
depend on it, it’s the sale rule, and the sure; I
have Scriptur’ warrant for it, beside my own ob
servation ; which, as you may judge, has not been
small. It’s a strange thing, this happiness; it
puts me in mind of an old Indian I have heard
of, who said to a boy who was begging him for a
bow and arrow, ‘ the more you say bow and arrow,
the more 1 won’t make it.’ There’s poor Mr.
Redwood, as far as I can find out, he has had
nothing all his life to do, but to go up and down,
aud to and fro upon the earth, in search of hap
piness ; look at his face: it is as sorrowful as a
tonibstoue, and just makes you ponder upon
what has beeu, and what might have been; and
his kickshaw of a daughter—why I, Debby Len
nox, a lone old woman that I am, would not
change places with her—would not give up my
peaceable feelings for hers for all the gold in the
king’s coffers: and for the most, part, since I have
taken a peep into what’s called the woild, I have
seen little to envy among the great and the gay,
the rich and the handsome.”
“And yet, Miss Debby,” said Grace, “the
world looks upon these as the privileged classes.”
“ Ah! the world is foolish, and stupid besides.”
< Well, Miss Deborah, I have unbounded con
fidence in your wisdom, but since my lot is cast
in this same evil world, I should be sorry to think
there was no good in it.”
“ No, good miss! that was what I did not, and
would uot, say. There is good in everything, and
everywhere, if wo have but eyes to see it, and
hearts to confess it. There is some pure gold
mixed with all this glitter; some here that seem
to have as pure hearts and just minds as if they
had never stood in the dazzling sunshine of for
tune.”
“You mean to say, Deborah,” said Ellen, “that
contentment is a modest, prudent spirit; and
that, for the most part, sne avoids the high
places of the earth, where the sun burns and the
tempests beat, and leads her favorites along quiet
vale 6, and to sequestered fountains.”
“Just what I would have said, Ellen, though it
may not be just as I should have said it,” replied
Deborah, smiling. “You young folks like to
dress off everything with garlands, while such a
Slain old body as I only thinks of the subs tan
als.”—Ctothmne Mam tfwJpwK*-