Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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*-