Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

TEMPI IIANCE CRUSADER.; PHN b’lJETjT_>, GEORGIA. ! Thursday Morning. August 19 n 1858. Xlic Submarine Telegraph. Europe and America are jubilant over the final sue- j cess of the Atlantic Cable, the greatest and grandest , achievement of human genius. It is certainly the most sublime and astonishing won der that has ever been wrought upon land or sea since the’exit of Christ from the world. Mortal ken is too feeble to contemplate, and human conception too psor to appreciate, the magnitude ot its grandeur. It is be- . fitting that both nations, indeed the civilized world, i should commemorate it by every possible demonstration, as the crowning glory of the nineteenth century. It has succeeded, to the happy astonishment of thousands who had despaired of its feasibility. The first fleet in this enterprise set sail from v alentia for Now Foundland, on the sth of August, 1857, but a discouraging failure suspended progress, when many lost confidence. Cut the failure was traced to defective machinery which infused new courage into the brave spirits who were projecting the movement; they re cruited and made extensive preparations for another attempt in 1858. The second trial, as all know, was made in June last and failed again—heavy stormsalmosl wrecking the vessels. But those noble souls, unwilling 4o abandon the enterprise, again gathered strength, and on the 29th of July last, the Agamemnon and Niagara met in mid ocean, and having welded the cable, con signed it, at 1 o’clock, with throbbing hearts, to the coral beds of the. deep channel. Each vessel then set sail for land—one bound for Valentia in Ireland, and the other for Trinity Bay, New Foundland. Both have anchored safely on land, and a pathway for the trans. mission of thought upon lightning wings, has been made through the “salt ooze of the plateau.” An electric circuit of sixty-Jive thousand miles is thereby complete, and it will extend its limits until the stilly bosom of the Pacific waters shall thrill with the electrical transmis sion of intelligence, and Asia, Africa and Australia shall come within speaking distance of America. The first human intelligence that ever crossed the Atlantic, was conveyed in the caravel of Columbus, and it was five weary months in making the passage. . What i a contrast between then and now ! 9 he topics of con- j versation for the hour, among Europeans, will be the | same among Americans; yea, indeed, they will con- j verse together across the Atlantic as if face to face. Excitements in Europe will create excitements in America the same day; the rise and fall in European trade and commerce, will be known in the cities of this | continent almost simultaneous with London and Paris. , Great, indeed, is the achievement! The surging vva- j ters ot a mighty ocean conquered! Byron sang that “ man’s control stops with the shore.” But his fcliades must no.v find anew song; for the rolling ocean, over whose bosom “ ten thousand fleets sweep in vain,” has j at length yielded to man’s power. His voice speaks • above its roar, and the great monsters and huge levia- , thans that sport in its deep caverns hear lii3 songs ot triumph. All mankind should send up songs of adora- ; lion to the Supreme Being, the King over all things, for this victory which has no parallel. (i Jieni eforth, there shall be DC chain, Save underneath the en ; The wires sha.l murmur thro’ the main, Sweet songs of libe* ty. The conscious stars accord above, The waters wild below, And under, through the cable wove, i Her fiery errands go.— Emerson. We publish below the remarks of other papers upon this grand theme : “I’ll put a girdle round the earth In forty minutes Midsummer Night's Dream. ! The magic girdle of Midsummer Night’s Dream lias become a sober midsummer day s reality. she Atlan tic cable completes a chain of instant communication froiiis Now Orleans ‘to Ctaantinopk A few months more will see tlie line extended to Calcutta, and tlieu the ends of the habitable world will hold hourly con versation with each other. Last year, when everybody believed the cable would succeed, it failed; this year, when everybody expected its failure, it succeeds. The surprise adds to the satis faction, and as tlie news flashes over the wires, it is hailed everywhere with the liveliest joy. In Canada it i greeted with salutes, in New York, Boston, Wash ington, Buffalo and other cities with rejoicings, and to night every telegraph office on this continent is to be illuminated, in honor of the great triumph. Doubtless similar demonstrations are in progress in England and throughout Europe. Mr. Field, at Trinity Bay, grasps • power, by the aid of science, that no potentate with the most invincible armies and navies ever dared aspire to. A tap of his finger puts him in communication with every cabinet in Europe, and withthecalm dignity ofan autocrat, he directs and controls communication between Queen Victoria and President Buchanan! It is hardly possible yet to realise the fruits of this great achievement. We shall have, first, ten days la ter news, from Europe, and after that the daily events happening in London and Paris will be known and com- 1 inentcd on here, before half the Londoners and Paris- : ians have heard of them. The telegraph outstrips the j sun, so that we can hear, about noon, how prices “closed > at the London Corn Exchange the same day, at night fall ! How.great a stimulant to commerce, how strong a ! check upon fraud, how convenient a link between friends, how firm a protection against national misuderstanding; • ill short, what a bond ol peace and good will this cable j is destined to be. can only be realised by the actual j progress oi events. The world is, year by year, drawn closer together by j a net work of copper wires. There arc a hundred ; thousand miles of them now—more than four times the ! circumference of the earth—-three thousand of them running under oceans and seas between different nations. The rapid spread of intelligence which they ensure in creases trade, industry, prosperity, knowledge, peace, and speeds the day when a common friendship between all mankind shall attest their reverence for Him, who alone “can send the lightnings that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are.” Albany Evening Journal’ C: W. FIELD, XERXES AND CAXUTE. A girdle has been put upon the ocean, and a constant Stream ol intelligence, rapid as lightning, swift as , thought, itself, will soon connect tlie two continents , with each other. Since the discovery by Columbus, there has been no attempt of man so audacious, no pro ject of science so bold, mid no event in history so im portant as that which we chronicle this morning. The mind can hardly realise the fact of a means of instanta neous communication having been established between j two worlds, so long unknown to each other, separated by waters so vast, and by perils of transit so prodigious I and proverbially formidable. The presumption of Xerxes when he undertook to , chaia the, sea, and lashed it wilh thongs when it refused ‘ to be bound by his shackles or of Canute, when he for- : bade the tide rise in his presence, does not seem more j preposterous than this modern attempt to span the ocean with a cable'; and frtnn none of its feats does science rise more sublime over the presumption of ignorance | than in confidently projecting, in perleveringly prose- j outing, arid triumphantly accomplishing this most stu pendous of its undertakings. Washington Union. The Poetry os i.ife, - The poetry of life comprises our agreeable sensations, our ,tendernesses, our magical associations of thought* dnr spirit-stirring emotions, and our noblest enthusiasms. With the fatiguing realities of our being it iias little ! connexion, but all that is just and generous belongs to it. The indefinable feelings of the soul, the overflow in'es of the heart, the • thoughts that lie too deep for tears,” the hallowed recollections of by-gorie events, | the impressions made by the beautiful and the sublime, nameless objects that embody themselves in diin out lines oil the, mind, but of which we can scarcely discern the form—these compose the poetry of our existence. Its character is strictly ideal: it has little connection with business, or trade, os traffic, with eating or drink ing, or with any of the common occupations which we pursue. It is essence, not gross matter —spirit, not substance. iottKstae. The Richmond Dispatch says: The Kansas corres pondent of the N Y. Herald states that the only busi ness which is at all brisk in V ansaß at this time is horse nefahV P / T earS thatthe Free State the ored aSmUch enam ‘ cal person,areßidento Do" g f rS ‘ rcvere nd politi a company of horse th |^° Ug a8 c °n nt y> commands steals horses on week days’ haß ** ° n Sundays and ing a number of horses from a nro-tl* rested for steal ~ reverence can secure a free soil i„ iav , ury raan ’ If his cern himself about the result, fifrVwUlbJ?? DOt aon * that a Southern man has no more r *ht oT* *° Sh ° W horse than jna negro, and ihat a fine hors!^ “ & iarly Southern institution, and therefor t® a Pecul benefit of the underground railroad. U 6 tot h® Another Outrage. A Scotchman, whose name we have not learned very badly cut up in this city on Saturday night. ’ We learn that he reports that he was. on the new bridge be ttyeen 8 and 9 o’clock, when he was attacked by a large man, a stranger to him, and stabbed repeatedly with a knife. Some of the cuts were very severe and danger ous. We have not been able to obtain fuUer particu lars of this affair,— Columbus Enquirer, IQth inst. Bouquets and College Exhibitions. The indiscriminating habit of tossing flowers to speakers during the commencement exercises of our colleges, is becoming a great nuisance; and we are happy to know that it is being generally condemned. Each speaker, whether his oration be meritorious or otherwise, is visited with a perfect “shower” of bou quets—coming, as every one knows, from immediate friends who throw them on account of mere personal esteem. Such being the case—of which all are cogni zant—there is certainly very little, if any, honor in re ceiving a bunch of flowers on such an occasion ; where as, if a bouquet was made an index of approbation, there might be great honor in it. We heartily wish such a view could and would be taken of the matter; for then the hope ot receiving such honors would stim ulate young speakers to greater exertion. Furthermore, this custom is censurable, not only be cause speakers frequently receive bouquets when they do not deserve them, but it makes some of them display a wonderful amount of awkwardness in making the proper acknowledgements. The last issue of the Athens Banner, in commenting upon the practice, thus advises, in regard to the ‘ bowing ’ of the boys: We have seen those who had been most liberally pel ted in this way, render themselves supremely ridiculous, as, with a most ludicrous attempt at ease and grace, they clumsily bowed their thanks. It is not every man that can bow even decently, with nothing in the hands, and under no embarrassing circumstances; but, when the hands are full, and the individual himself not wholly at his ease, ten to one that his manner of testifying his gratitude will excite any emotion but ridicule, and a disposition to laugh outright at his awkwardness. Don’t throw bouquets, then, ladies, until you have tutored your friends in the art of bowing without mak ing people laugh. They could not walk off the stage without deigning a notice of your floral tributes, for that would put them under the ban of your eternal dis pleasure; while to pick them up and attempt a bow, will, in a majority ot cases, expose them to the laughter of the audience. It is Scylla and Charybdis over again, but to steer them clear of both, you have only to “ hold your hands.” An intelligent correspondent writing to us relative to the late commencement here, wittily and humorously comments upon the practice, after the following style : j Perhaps, Messrs. Editors, as one of you are unmar- j ried, you may not agree with me in a suggestion which lam now about to make. But, however we may dis- ‘ fer on this point, I am sure that you will not expect me to yield to you in unfeigned regard for the fair ladies who graced the village of Penfield during Commence ment. We were, we confess, not a little annoyed at what seems quite fashionable upon such accasions: wc mean the habit, on the part of the ladies, of tossing bou quets to each speaker as he closes his speech. Through j you we would say to them, that there are several points ! in which the custom is objectionable. It must either be ! intended as a compliment to the speaker, or as a token . of tender affection; for we will not suggest that a lady might toss out a bouquet merely to make herself con spicuous. Well, if it be a compliment, shrewd young j men and the public attach little value to a compliment j so thoroughly prepared before the merit to be praised is j , displayed. But it the design be to intimate soft senti- i , ments, we would suggest that it would seem at once ! ! more modest and sincere to breathe the low whispering i of love in some silent grove, beneath the sweet-scented hawthorn, where naught but murmuring streams and 1 warbling birds and smiling Dian, and the dew-weeping ; stars might participate in the pure raptures. Oil, fair maiden—mistress of the heart! expose not! thus your tender bosom to the cold, unfriendly world ! ! i “Cast not your pearls before swine” ; “ waste not your ; sweetness on the desert air.” But in behalf of the , young men, we would suggest that it is no small incon ; venience—especially to those who indulge in the luxury ot “ tights ” —to turn, when about to leave the stage, and stoop about on the rostrum to pick up flowers. Young men and young ladies should both realize the appropriateness of the maxim, “ right side up with care.” Indeed, so deeply were we impressed with the evident embarrassment of the young men in performing this part of the gymnastic exercises, that we will venture to , suggest to you, that you call a convention of the ladies, j 1 and the various professors of Belies Lettres throughout | this State, and have some authoritative solution made j ot the problem, “how loose a gentleman’s pants, and i how long his coat tail should be, to enable him to stoop ! I low enough to pick up a bouquet from the floor- of the ‘ stage on which he stands, when that stage is three feet i above the floor of the house, so as at once to preserve ! his own centre of gravity, and not, by any unusual ex- ‘ ! posures, to interfere with the gravity of spectators.” We would then farther suggest, that if the ladies still insist on keeping up this part of the exercises, the pro— lessors of Belles Lettres should practice the orators ill this new and difficult art. For ourselves, were we tlms. complimented with bouquets, we would be constrained to lift our eyes to the fair clouds whence the flowery showers descended, and respond : “You’d scarce expect one of my age To squat in public on the stage; And if I chance to split my breeches, Who, fair Miss, would mend the stitches ? And if my coat tail slipped too high, What an aspect for your eye! Alt, lady fair, I cannot spare What little dignity I have. Keep, then, your compliment till by and by, Then meet me ‘cornin’ thro’ the rye.’ ” Sleep of Drunkards. The drunkard seldom knows the delicious and re freshing slumbers of the. temperate man. He is rest less, and tosses in bed an hour or two before falling asleep. Even then his rest is not comfortable. He awakes frequently during the night, and each time his j mouth is dry, his skin is parched, and his head, for the most part, painful and throbbing. These symptoms, j | from the irritable state ot his constitution, occur even ! when he goes soberly to bed ; but if he lie down heated j ! with liquor, he feels it with double force. Most persons j who fall asleep in a state of intoxication, have much headache, exhaustion and general lever on awakening. ; Sonic constitutions are lulled to rest by liquors, and . I others rendered excessively restless; hut the first are no gainers by the difference, as they suffer abundantly ! afterwards. Phlegmatic drunkards drop into slumber | more readily than llie others: their sleep is, in reality, 1 a sort of apoplectic stupor. I. Dreams. —Dreams mav be readily supposed to be common, from the deranged manifestation of the stom ach and brain which occurs in intoxication. They are usually ot a painful nature, and leave a gloomy impres sion upon the mind. In general, they are less palpable to the understanding than those which occur in sober ness.. They come like grotesque conceptions across the imagination; and though this faculty embody nothing into shape, meaning or consistence, it is yet haunted with melancholy ideas. These visions depend much on the mental constitution of the person, and are modified by his habitual tone of thinking. It is, however, to be remarked, that while the waking thoughts of the drunk ard are full of sprightly images, those of his sleep are usually tinged with a shade of perplexing melancholy. 11. Nightmare.— Drunkards are more afflicted than other people with this disorder, in so far as they are equally subject to all the ordinary causes, and liable to others, front which sober people are exempted. Intoxi cation is fertile in producing reveries and dreams, those j playthings of the fancy ; and it may also give rise to such a distortion of ideas, as to call up incubus and all j its frightful accompaniments. [ 111. Sleep-walking. —Somnambulism is another affec tion to which drunkards are more liable than their 1 neighbors. I apprehend that the slumber is never pro found when this takes place, and that in drunkenness in particular, it may occur in a state of very imperfect | sleep. Drunkards, even when consciousness is not quite abolished, frequently leave their beds and walk about the room. They know perfectly well what they are about, and recollect afterwards, but if questioned, either at that moment or any future period, they are to tally unable to give any reason for their conduct. Some times, alter getting up, they stand a little time and en deavor to account for rising, then go again deliberately to bed. There is often, in the behaviour of these indi viduals, a strange mixture of folly and rationality. Persons, half tipsy, have been known to arise and go out. of doors in their night-dress, being all the while sensible ot what they were doing, and aware of its ab surdity. The drunken somnambulism has not always this character. Sometimes the reflecting faculties are so absorbed in slumber, that the person has no con sciousness ol what lie does. From drinking, the afl’cc tion is always more dangerous than from any other cause, as the muscles have no longer their former strength, and are unable to support tlie person in his hazardous expeditions. II he gets upon a house-top he does not balance himself properly from giddiness; he is consequently liable to falls and accidents of every kind. It is considered, with justice, dangerous to awaken a sleep-walker. In a drunken fit, there is less risk than under other circumstances, the mind being so far con tused by intoxication, as to be, in some measure, insen sible to the shock. IV. Sleej>-talking. —For the same reason that drunk ards are peculiarly prone to somnambulism are they subject to sleep-talking, which is merely a modification of the other. The imagination, being vehemently ex cited by the drunken dream, embodies itself often into speech, which, however, is, in almost every case, ex tremely incoherent, and wants the rationality some times possessed by the conversation of sleep-talkers un der other circumstances. — Macnith. j/zgr A young lady went into a grocery at Albany, called for a variety of articles, and as they were handed to her, dropped them in an earthen vase which she held in her lap. After completing her business she put the vase on the counter, and said she would call and take it and pay the bill. The vase was afterwards found to be bottomless and the goods missing. A worse trick is that of several New York clerks lately who seize ten and twenty dollar bills offered by ladies, declare them counterfeit, refuse to give them up, and frighten the ladies into submission to the robbery by threatening to call in the police to arrest thrni. Fatal Affray.—A terrible affray occurred in our streets last Wednesday, between William Millirons and C. C. Watson, brothers-in-law, both living in this coun ty. It seems that a family difficulty existed between the parties, and being in town on the day mentioned above, a rencontre took place, in which Watson received two wounds from a double-barreled shot gun in the nande of Millirons, from which he died in about fifteen minutes. The Coroner’s jury returned as a verdict that Millirons killed Watson in self-defense.—C'<A6er< (Ga.) reporter, August 7. i Temperance Papers* We are pleased to see that the Telegraph, published at St. Johns, N. B. has vastly improved in appearance. It has donned anew suit, and its mechanical execution is now faultless. It is worthy of a large patronage. The Canadian Visitor is a large monthly publication in folio shape, just established at Orono, C. W. and its very first number is an honor to the cause in whose be half its labors will be spent. In the course of its intro ductory remarks the editor says: “We come before our readers not relying on our intrinsic merit, nor vaunting ourself on the size of our sheet, its large amount of reading, or any particular interest which may attach to the articles contained in our columns, but re lying on the kind wishes of our readers, and the para mount importance of the cause we advocate.” We wish the Visitor great success. We notice the prospectus of a temperance paper soon to be established at Benncttsville, S. C. under the title “S. C. Son of Temperance.” We hope soon to receive a copy. Nothing is more needed than good temper ance Journals, and it fills us with joy to see the demand being supplied. “ Son ” Badly!! On the morning of the 30th ultimo, at a quarter past 1 o’clock, the proprietor of this paper was “'sow’ struck.” Fortunately, however, the stroke produced no conges tion of the brain, and hopes are entertained that he will survive it, but not without great “loss of sleep “ o’ nights. It is desirable that condoling delinquent friends will manifest their sympathy in a “ tangible” form, so that the editor may be enabled to “meat” his “growing earthly responsibility.” Newspapers for Sale. The Marietta Advocate, Borne Southerner <s• Advertiser and Wilkes Republican, at Washington, are all offered for sale. The secret of this step on tlie part of the pro prietors of these journals is unknown, but we hope it is not for want of patronage. “A Clerical Lecture ly L. A. Dreg’es.” I The above ‘ butchery’ is passing the rounds extensive j ly; and as the blunders were made by an exchange in j copying it from the Crusader, we take the liberty of making the correction. It is surprising that our brother “knights of the quill” do not rectify before re-publish ing it. The ‘clerical’ is intended for clinical, and ‘Dre ges’ for Dugas. We presume there is no such a man as Dr. Dreges in the city of Augusta. Tlie Lat; range lienor ter. It is a source of much gratification to us to state that the circulation of this paper is now much larger than it ever was, and that the increase is regular and perma nent, and without excitement. It has been our honest i effort to make it worthy the confidence of the public, ! and we feel that the public will award to us honest pur poses by bestowing their patronage upon our paper. There are few country papers enjoying a larger circula j tion than ours, and there are none which can boast a I more intelligent class of readers. We are pleased to learn from the above statement of the editor, that the Reporter is in a flourishing condL | tion. It deserves great success for the spirit and energy | with which it is edited. Our clever friend Willingham ! is a working man, and he has our best wishes for the prosperity of his labors. We cheerfully commend his paper to our friends. The degree of D.D. was conferred upon Prof. P. H. Mell, of Athens, at the late commencement of Franklin College. Cooper, Prof. Greek in Centre College, Dan ville, Ky. hung himself the 27th ult. His mind was considerably impaired for some time before his death. How to know Uood Beef. j Avery important piece of information at any time, j and especially so just now. “ The grain of ox beef, when good, is loose, the meat red, and the fat inclining to yellow. Cow beef, on the | contrary, has a oloser grain, a whiter fat, but meat I scarcely as red as that of ox beef. Inferior beef, which is meat obtained from ill-fed animals, or from those which had become too old for food, may be known by a hard, skinny fat, a dark, red lean, and, in old animals, a line of horny texture running through the meat of the ribs, when meat pressed by the kngerriseßup quickly, ■ it may be considered as that of an animal which was in its prime ; when the dent made by the pressure returns . slowly, or remains visible, the animal had probably past its prime, and the meat, consequently, must be of infe rior quality.” One of the very best tests of good beef, judging by the eye, is when it looks nearest like a well developed to per’s face—not one in the last stage, where the blood assumes a dead, blackish appearance. The Sunbeam of tlie Heart, A composition read by Miss Georgia A. Booth, a mem ber of the Graduating Class, at the examination of the Girls’ High School, Mobile, Dlonday, July 5, 1858. Man, in his pilgrimage through life, is constantly en veloped in dark and dismal clouds. Phantoms ofgloom and sorrow follow his footsteps, and fairy-like images ot vice and temptation skip gayly along his pathway, ; while the shadowy fingers of misery sprinkle cruel I thorns among the roses that bloom around him, and mingles the bitter drops ot anguish with every cup of J joy which the hand of happiness would offer. Thus is j he assailed—thus tempted and led astray by the allure ‘ ments and fascinations of this world,-until his rainbow i dreams of anticipation are dispelled; and, floating hway, they leave darkness, sorrow, sadness to reign supreme. But He who made the bright-winged songters of the feathery tribe, and filled their little hearts with rapture as they warble forth their evening anthems; who, in the stillness of night, sends the crystal dew-drops from its ethereal home to bathe the withered leaves of the drooping flowerets; to call forth their fragrance and to expand their pearly petals into beauty and loveliness ; He who sends the genial rays of the sun to shed their warmth upon the broad bosom of this vast earth, to brighten every valley and gild every mountain top; He has also woven among the darkness and sorrow of earlh’s cares one bright sparkling whose mild radiance falls sweetly and soothingly upon the troubled spirit of man. Its brightness is unchanging; and as it falls seraph-like upon the heart, the fleecy noonday clouds are dissipated ; and it softly steals down upon the inner soul, tinging with radiant beauty the thoughts and aspirations that lie slumbering within its sanctum. It was hope—this sunbeam of the heart that played through the breezes which floated around the noble ships of Columbus as they sailed over the dark blue waves ofan unknown ocean. Despondency often looked sadly upon him, and polatiug hack towards the happy shores of his distant home, whispered lost! lost! But in the hush of midnight, when even tlie wild waves of the sea seemed lulled to repose, one cheering beam from ; the blue firmament above fell on his drooping heart. It : gilded bis pathway with a thousand glowing hues, and i filled the whole atmosphere with light and joy. En couraged by its magic influence, he persevered in his course o]er the trackless deep, until the glorious land i M America, with all its wealth and loveliness, burst upon his view. Even the dark clouds which spread gloomily over the battle-field are not too thick t.. be penetrated by this glorious sunbeam. Joyously it beams through the mis ty atmosphere, and brightly falls upon the throbbing heart of the hero, as he dashes through the dash and clamor of war. It sparkles from the point of his up lifted lance; nestles’ntid the circles of his waving plume; guides, with unerring light, his prancing steed, and points sweetly onward—still onward; “ there is no such word as fail.” Sunshine and joy beam upon him from all directions, and his very soul seems eager to leap forth with ecstacy. Already does he feel the breezes of applause fan his glowing cheek; the dark green leaves of the laurel are even now twined amid the tres ses of his hair; and the shouts of victory fall upon his ears. Inspiration lends vigor to his frame, and onward he flies, until the battle is won and the trumpets of vic tory greet his ears. Around the heart of the sailor boy this bright beam lingers, as far from his happy home he wanders, tossed and dashed about by the billowy sea. The loud scream of the sea-bird falls upon his ears, and the deep voice of the tempest echoes through the air; yet, calmly and fearlessly he braves all; for over the heaving bosom of the ocean comes gentle whispering which tell of bright and happy scenes in store for him, of a safe return o to the dear home he has left, and a joyful meeting with the loved ones who nightly visit his dreaming couch. But never does this sunbeam appear so radiantly betm tiful as when struggling through the sadness andgioom that hover around the dying pillow of those we love. Often is the chain of affection and friendship that binds our spirit to this earth severed We see its brightest links taken away, one by one; and dark, indeed, would our pathway appear, were it not for the brilliant rays of hope which rise above the cares of earth, and gild, with dazzling splendor, the shores of eternity. It is the hope of meeting them again that enables us to look calmly and submissively upon loved ones as they lie slumber ing upon the bosom of death ; it is this that bears us up when w'e see their lovely forms borne from the happy home-circle, and placed within the narrow limits of the grave. This, indeed, is the saddest-*-the holiest place upon which hope sheds her pearly beams. Here it turns our thoughts from the fleeting objects of this life, and directs them to the unseen, but ever enduring things of the future, which it gilds with the brightest rays of peace, joy and happiness. Intemperance in England.— From statistics carefully collected in England, it appears that in that country three hundred and fifty-seven intemperate persons die for every one hundred and ten of temperate habits. At twenty years of age, an intemperate man ftiay expect to live fifteen and a half years longer, whiltfi temperate man of the same age may expect to live forty.four years longer. At thirty, an intemperate man will probably live fourteenyears longer, a temperate man thirty years longer. At forty an intemperate man will ordinarily hve twelve years longer, while a temperate man will live twenty-nine years longer. Yellow Fever in Charleston. Charleston, Aug. 13. —There have been several deaths by yellow lever in this city, but the physicians say it does not exist in an epidemic form. [Written for the Georgia Temperance Crusader. J My Dead Ones. BY IDA. Ah ! cruel death, why dost thou claim Ali those I love the best! Why gatherest thou my dear ones all Unto thine icy breast! Four years ago no one was missed From out the household band; But one by one they’ve passed away Unto that silent land. Thou wavest thy dark and shadowy wing. Above the peaceful cot! And when November’s chill winds blew, Our meek-eved one was not. My fair-haired, brother was the first To hear the solemn call— The eldest and the dearest one— The idol of us all. Whiter passed and Spring came on ; * The earth was glad and gay, And now another must, alas! Thy summons, dread, obey. Ah! yes; ’mid April’s smilesand tears. The noble and the brave— My Brother of the jetty locks, Was carried to the grave. Cut down within the prime of life, Amid his pride and joy, Death waited not for age or time, His beauty to destroy. And now ’mong Carolina’s hills The two sleep side by side, Where lonely pines and cedars wave, By dark Savannah’s tide. Summer and her sunbeams passed, In all their glory, by ; The Autumn winds again blew chill— Another now must die! Ah! yes; my blue-eyed sister, who Was wont to cheer the hours— She perished with the Autumn leaves— October’s lovely flowers. The snow-flake in its loveliness Was not more pure and fair; She seemed an angel from above, Sent down to bless us here, But faded as the light of eve, And left her babes to weep; And now within the churchyard, lone, She sleeps that quiet sleep. Stern winter, with his howling blasts— His storm of sleet and snow— Came on and clothed the earth in gloom; And he—now he must got My friend, my counsellor, my guide ; The guardian of my youth, Who early taught this heart to bow Before the shrine of truth. To yonder distant balls, away. Where swells the high debate, He went to, serve his country there — His dear adopted State — And there, upon the stranger’s bed, sti& wants, by them supplied— No gesMe wife or daughter near— ’Tis thus m.y Father died. The stranger bore him back to u& Upon a sable hearsey And here, beside my sister, they Interred his lifeless corse, And placed above his lovely head The cold white marble stone. My mother seldom smiled again— Her heart was sad and lone. And though, with grateful heart, we strove To smoothe her path below, She seemed to sigh for that bright world Where endless pleasures flow; For there she hoped—she hoped to meet Upon that blissful shore, Her husband and her children dear, To part with them no more. And when the balmy spring returned, The lovely month of May, She. told us that she now must die, And passed from earth away ! Yes; in the lone morning hour, The time she loved the best, The white-robed angels bore her hence To dwell among the blest. I almost fancied I could hear Theii joyous shout and song, As she, the purest, best of earth, Was added to their throng; And that her loved ones, all, were there. Among that happy band, % Who welcomed her pure spirit home, Unto that far off land. That mother’s love, its strength, its depth r No language e’er can tell. Though gone, its holy influence still Upon our hearts must dwell. We laid her precious body down: With many a bitter tear, Within the churchyard’s peaceful l shade, Beside my father there. And now, where Chattahoochta’s tide, Through lonely forest’s creep, And on their dark and gloomy, wilds, The night dews gently, weep. And western Georgia’s balmy, wundfe A mournful requiem sigh;. • My father, mother, sister, all! There, there, togetherrlie.. The Lord has given and taken away l — will, not mine, be done; But oh! ’tis sad to feel life’s path Must henceforth be alone; To know there’s none to scatter flo\vers Upon my lonely way ! But, father, thou wilt be my friend — My comfort, guide and stay. Home of the Hoses , Ga., July, 1858. [Special Correspondence.] Suicide—Arrest of a Burglar —Accident—Negro Drowned—S. C. If. R. Coin. —Ocean ‘ Tele graplt—N. O. Delta. On the night of the 4th inst. Mr. Henry O. Neirkirk, of this city, at or about 7 o’clock, in his room at the United States Hotel, committed suicide by cuttin g his throat with a razor. He prepared himself for the tragi cal event by placing two pillows on the floor, and a small tub near them. Holding the razor in his right ha ad, he gave but one desperate thrust at his throat, which pro duced a deep gash on the left side, severing the • wind pipe and caroted artery. He held his head over tine tub until he became so exhausted from loss of blood, that he fell back upon the pillows and died immediately; at least, such was the impression made upon the min ds of the coroner’s jury from all the circumstances of the case. The tub was half filled with blood. A small slip of paper was found on the bureau, written with pe.ncil, “Don’t publish me in the papers.” From the evidence submitted to the jury, it was evident that ill-health and pecuniary embarrassment lead to this unfortunate re sult. Some five months ago the deceased pure] lased some sewing machines from a company in New Jfork, which, upon trial, proved utterly worthless. He s< night justice of them, which was denied him. The note he gave for them was protested; and not having fund ssuf ficient to pay the debt, or to secure his endorser from loss, he was consequently very much depressed in spirit. He was formerly a merchant tailor in this city, an .and was unmarried. On the sth inst. Benjamin F. Johnson, a city v watch man, succeeded in arresting a notorious house-bi *eaker named Theodore T. Darby. He was suspected of! ircak ibg open a Mr. McCarty’s store, and taking thei ‘efrom fifty or sixty dollars. He confessed the deed, ai id ac knowledged farther that he had broken into several others besides. He was sent to jail to await his t rial at next Superior Court. On Saturday evening, 7th instant, a train hand, l tamed John Morse, while attempting to cross from one car to another, on the passenger train of the South Cos rolina Railroad, near Graniteville, S. C. fell off, the whole train passing over him, severing his head from his body, causing Ins immediate death. His remains were car ried to Charleston and an inquest held over them, when a verdict in accordance with the above facts was ren dered by the jury. On Monday evening, 9th instant, a negro man, called George Washington, employed on board the st< jamer Swan, proving somewhat was tied b y the officers of the boat for the purpose of punishment, when he cut the rope and jumped overboard, and his 1 lands being tied hedrowned before assistance could reach him His body was found on the evening of the 11th in st. in the river, near the lower part of the city, by some small lads. No blame can possibly be attached to the o> Bcere of the boat. The South Carolina Railroad Company commen iced, a short time since, to erect anew bridge across the. Sa vannah River, in immediate proximity to the one they ore now using, but was stopped from the farther pi i*a*s cution of the work by an injunction issued at the in stance of the boat company, on the plea that the ti< >rsf the proposed bridge were m the channel of the i fiver. The Railroad Company has petitioned the City Co-unci! of this city to designate the channel of the river t o them, insisting that council has the exclusive tight to deter mine the location of the channel. It is just and p roper that the Railroad Company Bhould be allowed t o liuild their bridge; and whether the City Council has the right to determine the channel or not. If - has no right to authorize the placing of any obetructio ns in it. It was a selfish pique of the boat cwnpawes* *H<i uUI > hardly injure the Railroad Company, or prevent them from building their bridge. The City Council have ta ken no definite action in the matteras yet. It is thought that it would boa very easy natter for them to find the channel, as two of their body have been furnished, by nature, with admirable legs for wading ; at least, some of them con ford it. The success of the ocean telegraph thrilled every heart with pleasure in this city. Overcoming obstacles the most innumerable and apparently impossible to sur mount, its success constitutes anew era in the world’s history. It is emphatically the great achievement of the age. Though old ocean’s mighty billows roll and swell between the New and the Old World; yet, they arc linked together by thought’s electric chord ; may it ever vibrate with the symphonies of peace, and the wild blast of war never play its foul dirge upon its trembling wire. This achievement will do more to bring about the great millenium of peace than all the noisy peace conventions that ever assembled in Christendom. Not only in this city, but from the North, South, East and West has shouts of gratitude and pleasure ascended from a peo ple overjoyed with real gladness. Everywhere at the North was the news of its success greeted with rejoic ing. The pulpit and the press sounded forth their meed of praise; the masses celebrated their gladness with bonfires and transparencies: “Two worlds united — Mark the event.” “We are living—we are dwelling In a grand and awful time; In an age <Jfthrilling wonder; To be living is sublime.” The above were some of the mottoes inscribed upon transparencies in Brooklyn, N. Y. The New York Express, of the 9th instant, thus elo quently alludes to the success of the ocean Telegraph: “ It is well, therefore, that in many of the churches yesterday, the “telegraph” was, in the pulpit as else where, the one idea, for the church and Christianity are, in the end, to gather in a rich harvest of its fruits. The golden chain of human brotherhood has had a strong, bright link added to it, which, with God’s blessing, will, in due time, bring all nations, all kindreds, all tongues within its friendly and loving embrace. The Orient and the Occident clasp hands! The East and the West are one; and, with the universal diffusion ot universal intelligence, good men may hopefully look forward to the dawn of that blessed millenium, when the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad: and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly and rejoice, even with joy and | singing: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it; the excellency of Carmel and Sharon; they shall see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God.” So mote it be. The New Orleans Delta has the following unjust and illiberal fling at Spurgeon, the London preacher: “A Clerical Lion.— The telegraph informs us that a specimen of the most tremendous zoological monstros ity, the “ clerical lion ” is about to visit the United States on an exhibitory tour, during which it will be an nounced on the play bills as Rev. Mr. Spurgeon, the modern Whitfield. We have been revolving the ques tion whether this noted pieacher comes with a consci entious desire to convert the heathen of the United States, or merely to show himself off to the admiring natives of the new world, but will not here record our decision.” If Rev. Mr. Spurgeon desires to find the most aban doned and corrupt place on the globe, he will find it in New Orleans. The Delta’s conduct in thus pandering i to the vitiated taste of its people, in the above morceau, is reprehensible and contemptible. W. Augusta, Aug. 13 th, 1858. How I Coated Sal. BY PETEK SPORUM, ESQ. Well you see arter the “poker” scrape, me an Sal j got along only middlin well for sum time, tell I made ! up my mind to fetch things to a hod, for I luved her harder and harder every day, an 1 bad a idea that she had a sorter sneaking kindliness for me, but how to doo the thing up rite pestered me orful—l got sum love hook, and red how the fellers got down Oil their IliarrCrllOllCS and talked like polks, how the gals they wud go Into a sorter transe, and how they would gently fall inter the feller’s arms, but sunihow or uther, that way did’nt sute my notion. I axed mam how dad coated her, blit she sed it had bin so long, that she’d furgot all about it, (Uncle Jo allers said mam dun all the coatin) —-At last I made up my mind tu go it blind, fur this thing was fairly a consummin my innards, so I goes over to her | daddy’s (that’s Sals.) and when I got tliar, I sot like ! a fool, thinkin how to begin. Sal sed sumthin was a trublin uv me and ses. Ses she “Aint you sick, Peter?’’ She sed this mighty’ soft like. “Yes—no”—ses I, “that is—l aint adzactly well — I thought I’d cum over to nite” ses I. That : s a mity putty beginnin any how, thinks I, so I tried again— “ Sal” ses I and by this time I felt mity fainty an on easy like about the spizerinctum— “Whot” ses Sal. i “Sal” ses I agin. “Whot” ses she. I’l gh tu it arter a while at this lick, thinks I. “Peter’ ses she, “tliar’s a sumthin a troublin you powerful, I no ; its mity rong for you too keep it frum a body, fur an innard sorrer is a consuniin fire.” She sed this, she did, the deer sly ereeter — she noed what was the matter all the time mity well, and was jist a tryin to rish it out, but 1 was so fur gone, I did’nt see the pint. At last I sorter gulped dowu the lump as wus a risen in my throte and ses — Ses I ‘“Sal do you luv enny body ?” “Well ses she thar’s dad—an mam—an (a countin on her fingers all the time, with her ise sorter shet like a feller a shootin uv a gun) ‘an thar’s—old Pide’ (that wur an ole cow uv hern) ’an I cant think uv enny body else jis now’ ses she. Now, this wur orful fur a feller ded in luv, so arter a while I tries anuther shute. Ses I, “Sal, I’m powerful lonesome at home, an I sumtimes thinks es I only had a nice putty wife to luv a nd talk to, an to move an have my being with, I would be a Iremendous feller.” With tha she begins an names over all the gals in five mile uv tliar, an never wunst cornea nigh namin uv herself, and sed I orter git wun uv them. This sorter got my dander up; sol hitched my cheer up close to Hern, and shet my ise and sed. “Sal, yu are the very gal I’ve been liankerin arter fur a long time. I luv yu all over, from the sole ov yore lied to the foot of yore crown, and I don’t keer who ‘ nose it ; an es you say so, we’ll be jined tugether in the ! holy bons uv matrimony, e pluribus unum, world with out end, amen,” ses I; an I felt 1 had throed up a alii— ! gaier, I felt so releeved. With that she fetched a sorter screem, an arter a while ses— Ses she, “Peter.” “Whot, Sally,”sesl. “Yes. ses she, a hidin uv her putty face behind her hans. You may depend on it I felt good. •‘Glory ! Glory !” ses I. “I must holler, Sal, or I’ll bust wide open. Hoorah fur hooray—l kin jump over a ten rale sense, I kin butt a bull of! uv the bridge, an kin do enny an everything that ennv uther feller ever could, would, should or orter do.” With that I sorter ’ sloshed miself down bi her, and clinched her, and seeled ! the bargain with a kiss, an sich a kiss—talk about yore shugar—talk about yore merlarsis, talk about yore black berry jam, you couldn’t got me too cum a nigh, tliay wud all a tasted sour after that. Oh these wimmen, how good an how bad, how hi an how lo thay kin makea feller feel—ef Sal’s daddy hadn’t a hollered out, it wur time lur all onest fokes to be in bed, Ido beleeve I’d a staid thar all nite. You orter a seed me when I got home. I pulled dad outer bed an I I hugged linn, I pulled mam outer bed an I hugged her ’ 1 pulled aunt Jane outer bed an I hugged her. I roared I I snorted, I cavorted, I laffed, an hollered, I erode like a rooster, I dansed about, an cut up more capers than yu ever hearntellon, tell dad thought I wus crazy an got a rope too ti me with. “Dad” ses I, “I’m a gwine to be marrid.” “Marrid !” bawled dad. “Marrid!” squalled mam. “Marrid!” squeakeiknnt Jane. “Yes, marrid” ses I, “marrid all over—marrid too be shore—marrid like a flash—jined in wedlock—hooked on fur w usser or fur better, fur life and fur detli to Sal. 1 a isrr t * , ? t ve >T thing—me Peter Sporum. Esquire.” With that 1 ups and tells em all about it, from Alpher -ii- I nay was nil niitely pleesed, and mity willin, an I went too bed as proud as a young rooster wiih his tust spurs. Oh Jehosaphat, but didn’t 1 teel good, an keep a gittin that way all nite. I didn’t sleep a wink, but kep a rolin about, and a thinking and a tninkin, tell I felt like my cup uv happiness wur chock full, pressed down, and a runnin over. I’ll tellyu sumuv these days about the weddin an all uv that, and how 1 dun, an how Sal, she dun, an so forth an so on. “Plenty to Eat, and Nothing to Pay.” Being interested in the remarkable demonstration of “practical charity ” in New York city, noticed in the last Messenger, we visited Mr. Farmer’s establishment in Ludlow Street a few duys ago. Stretched across the street in.front of his house was a large banner, in let ters that all might rend, “Plenty to eat, and nothing to pay.” Within was a large room with a table on both sides, of which stood as many as could be accommoda ted, eagerly eating a substantial meal. The room was crowded with others waiting their turn. Their pinched and palid faces, and longing looks, told plainer than words of their want and distress. All was orderly and quiet Piovisions in abundance, testified,to the liberal ly of the generous philanthropist, while the crowds that daily thronged hia table, and were filled by his ■bounty proved (he sincerity of his invitation. How absurd it would be for a starving man to perish •with such an offer before him. Suppose a poor and •hungry man, coming down the street, is ai traded by (that strange banner. He reads the generous offer, but j proudly rejects it, saying : “I can buy all I want, and don’t mean to be indebted to any man, ’ and though i penniless and starving passes by. ‘ Another seeing it, stops and reads, and says, “ True, j I am very hungry, but I don’t want to be seen in such 1 company as that. I have not been accustomed to asso- ’ ejate with such people. If he would ask me to” come to < his private table, I would be willing;” but as there is 1 no other place provided, he passes by. • , Another reads the staring capitals, and shakes hi* . ihead: “ Who is this gentleman 2” lie asks “ I nrv j heard of him. Why should ho go to this pains and ex i pensc for strangers ? If it means anything it must £ ’ for his chosen friends; afid as 1 don’t know that 1 ■ one, I won’t go in;” and he goes hungry on. 8 t Another, who, for days has only picked up here there a scanty meal, secs the inviting banner and th„ open door; yet, deluded by the hope that lie may some r where secure a better supply, ho drags himself alotm i ‘Hi weakened by exhaustion, he falls a victim to bl neglect. Another reads and says it is a noble offer, but refuses 5 ,0 S° in and appease his craving appetite, until he hn ’ secured some glittering hubbies floating in the ai, 1 which, while lie chases them, lends him so far away that he cannot retrace his steps. y 1 3 And so the proud captive, procrastinating, and ne<r r ltgent read and cavil and deny their craving, lon<nn t appetite, because they will not believe the simple offer means just what it says. r ’ But here comes a wretched widow—a mother whose > 1 means of subsislance arc all gone, and starvation stare* i her and her famished children in t he face. Leaving , them in their comfortless garret, she has gone to searefi , for food for the day, when that banner, with those wel come w'ords, meets herastonished gaze. Shecan scarce ly believe her eyes. “Can it be possible?” she ex : claims: “‘ Plenty to eat, and nothing to pay!’ Surely that is what it says. Ido not know the benevolent do* , nor, but he certainly would not want to trifle with me. | l will believe just what he says, and see if I can get some i j food;” and she goes in and receives a supply for her self and her starving family. Poor, wretched, famishing sinner, Christ has spread for you the gospel feast. He invites you to come and partake, “without money and without price.” Do not turn away and starve in the midst of plenty. “Eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.” “ Whosoever will, let him come.” Subscription Receipts to August Ist. January, 1859. P V Perry, 3 00 W F Parks, 82 50} A D Wren, (La) 200 G Paulk, 1 1 3; J II Freeman, (Tex) 200 Rev G G Norman, 3 OOj W R Peteet, 3 00: July, 1859. Mrs M F Collins, 200 G W Mealer (Miss) 500 Rev L Parker (SC) 2 00 E II Dognal, 3 00 J W Perry, 200 Mrs A G Carswell, 200 MD L Rowe, 20011 J Sally, (S C) * 200 J C Murdon, 2 00 S Exley, 3 00 Col Jno Branch, 2 00, Rev W R Foote, 200 S Gentry, 2 00; S Swinson, 3 00 I)r ,T A Urquliart, 400 WHC Pyron, 200 E R Bozeman, 300 jM B Ilailey, (Ala) 200 Dr G E Harris, 2 00, P SOwen, (Ala) 400 S E Wilson, 2 00 .1 G Norris, 2 00 JW Ellis, 1 00 JV Davis, 2 00 T Watson, 300 G P Culverhouse, 500 R II Greene, 2 00 E W Tucker, 3 00 August, 1859. J S Jackson, 2 00} A Dozier, 4 00 J F Lowry, 1 00i Rev J Henderson, 233 Rev. J G Cotton, 200,J T Broughton, 300 C W Arnold, 2 OOj T M Mcßea, 3 00 Mrs M A Houghton,2 00 John Mcßea, 300 P E Davant, 3 00 Miss M Dixon, 2 00 Mrs M A Wright, 200 Miss CMLeadbetter, 200 W C Chapman, 200 Rev J W McGee, 200 G W Sapp, 2 00 J M Carlton, (Ala) 2 00 FC Shropshire, 200 Col Hubbard, (Tex) 4 0(1 j Miss A Bryant,(Fla) 2 00 February, 1859. !J M Rawies, 200 Rev J H Kilpatrick, 2 00| E Foster, jr, 2 00 A S Mitchell, 2 00; J M Cooper, (Ala) 200 B Melvin, 6 00 Wm Hudson, 2 00 Miscellany. Wm Seay, 300 Rev II Crawford, 2 00*” S W Chapman, 2 OOi J T Webb, Nov’s 9, 300 P B Robinson, 3 00 J II Sherrod, 0ct’59,3 0O J O Mecllock, 3 OOj Wm Dibble, 4 50 W A Parker (Tex) 2 00; E E Brewer, 450 H F Redding, 4 50 March, 1859 j J Veazev, 1 00 Mrs M Edenfield, 134 GW Allen,(nooffice,)2 00 W S Johnson (Ala) 3 00 Col YPKing,Oct’s‘.),3 00 J E McCall, 3 00 WT Merritt,Sept’sß,2 00 J C Merritt, 2 0(1 WAReynoldsOct’s9,3 00 j J D Wright, G 00 W OTieknor, 3 00 j J S Jackson, 3 00 W A Richards, 2 00 j E C Morgan, 2 00 T J Allen, 1 00* I G F Barney, 5 00 O H Howell, 5 OO <1 “W Wells, 2 00 ECliarclawaySept’s94 OO .J H Wingfield, 000 April, 1 MoO. 0 Mays, Oct ’59, 5 00> W C Orilham, 4 OO W S harden, 1 OO .1 Burgess, 2 Oft M Carter, Texas, Miss M Copeland, 300 Sept ’SO, 300 I >J I’inney, 2 00 Rev Wm Rogers, S B Timmons (Fla) 2 OO Dec ’59, 4 OO .J 1) Boon, 4 00 W C Ward, 2 00 J P Philpot, (Tex) 250 H R Henry, (Tex) 100 J WFarmer, 2OOiDllohnan', too .) Childress, (Ala,) 100 Jlay, 1859. , J Carter, (no office) 5 OO B S A.sken, 300 L W Campbell, 100 ; Ke ' r W Drummond, 200 W J Anderson, 300 S A Ilowell, 3 00 ; W M McCutcheon, W T Watts, 300 Sept ’59, GOO E Veazey, 3 00 TJCBatcheldr, (La,) II Stephens, 200 Jan ’GO 500 Rev A E Cloud, 200 M Jones, Aug ’SB, 200 .1 E Robinson, 2 OO*G M Hook, Aug’sß,l (Hi S Tillman, (Va) 4 00| MJRagsdale, Nov’s93 00 Mrs R J .Jordan, 200 .T Anderson, 250 T Chaney, (Ala) 200 Z Beckom, 100 W II Mathis, . 2 (HI June, 1859. JOMcDanielSept’sß.2 00 S J Bellali, 400 C Binns, Nov ’SB 100 W Zeigler, (Fla) 3 o<>; H Bug, Oct ’59 GOO i S Bagley, 300 J S Bledsoe [Tex I I 90 j II David, 3 00. R G Noell j Ala j Mrs E W Brown, 3 OOj Oct \ r >9 ‘ ‘ 300 J R Cox, Oo| W (i Forsyth, Ap 58,1 00 I R Herrin, (Ala) 3 00! ,T R Bird, Ap 18(50 500 J R Lawrence, 4 OOj E F'oster, sr July’sß 2(H l Died, ill Henry county, Ala. on Wednesday, 7th July, 1858, alter a short illness, William A. Peterman, son. °rrJ r i WiUin S. and Mrs. M. E. Peterman, formerly Os Oglethorpe county, Ga. aged 2 years, 8 months and 22 davs. wt mure: TTjTE are authorized to announce the name of ..yIOEiL C. BARNETT,Esq. ofMadison, Ga. as candidate for Solicitor General of the Ocmulgee Circuit, on the first Monday in January next. BY the subscriber, on Saturday last, [l4th inst.] between Shiloh and Bairdstown, a yellow I *[® e l-rimmed Pocket Book of ordinary size, containing 833 and a few cents. Any information respecting it will be thankfully received, and the finder liberally rewarded. Aug ID—tt JOHN H. YOUNG. POULLAIN, GROCERS AND COTTON FACTORS, Opposite tlie Globe Hotel, Augusta, Georgia, /CONTINUE, ns heretofore, in connection with ‘-J their Grocery Business, to attend to the sale of COTTON and other produce. They will be prepared in the Brick Fireproof Ware house, now in process of erection in the front of their store, at the intersection of Jackson and Reynold streets, to receive on storage all consignments made them. Liberal cash advances made on Produce in store, when requested. ANTOINE FOULLAIN, THOMAS J. JENNINGS, Aug 19—tint ISAIAH PURSE. WAREHOUSE AND COMMISSION MERCHANT, AUGUSTA, GEORGIA. rll E undersigned, thankful for the liberal pa tronage extended to him for a series of years, would inform his friends and the public that he will continue at his same well known Brick Warehouse on Campbell street, near Bones, Brown &. Co’s. Hardware House, where, by strict personal attention to all business en trusted to his care, he hopes he will receive a share ot the public patronage. Cash Advances, Bagging, Rope and Family Supplies, will be forwarded to customers as heretofore, when de sired. [Augusta, Ga. Aug 19-Crn A DMINJSTRATOR’S SALE.—WiII be sold in Greenesboro, Greene county, on the first Tuesday in October next, within the usual hours of sale, the land belonging to the estate of McKinney Howell, deceased. Said plantation lies two miles east of White Plains, contains eight hundred and thirty acres, more or less, and adjoins lands of Mrs. Mary Mapp, E. P. Jarrell, H. H. Moore and others. The p.antation is in good farming condition, and the land generally produces well. There is on the premises a good dwelling and all necessary outbuildings. S. A. HOWELL, adm’r de bonis non., Aug 19, 1858 • with the will annexod. ADMINISTRATOR’S SALE.—WiII be sold in u Greenesboro, Greene county, on the first Tuesday in October next, within the legal hours of sale, the fob lowing tracts of land, to the estate of J. J. Howell, deceased. The one contains one hundred acres, more or less, and lies adjacent to lands of W. P. John* son, Mrs. Mary Mapp and S. Johnson. The other lies on the road from White Plains to Crawfordville, and contains two hundred and twenty-five acres, more or less. Almost half the land on the two places is in woods, and will certainly make a valuable addition to that of estate of McKinney Howell, to be sold at the same time and place. J. M. HOWELL, adm’r. Aug 19, 1858 A’;..’ ’ V”