The Georgia temperance crusader. (Penfield, Ga.) 1858-18??, September 09, 1858, Image 1

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Hlje JffeiJtTjttt cmpmuicf §|§tttstT&ct. JOHN H. SEALS, NEW SERIES, VOLUME 111. OTHE CiEORGIAO TEMPERA NCE C RUSA 1) ER. Published every Thursday in the year, except two. TERMS t Two Dollars per year, In advance. JOHN H. SEALS, Sols Pbopkietob. LIONEL L. VK.VZEY, Editor Literary Department. MRS M. K. BRYAN, Editress. JOHN A. REYNOLDS, Publisher. <E9Hyeil£> Clubs of Ten Names, by sending the Cash, will receive the paper at .... slso^copy. Clubs 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. I | t ADVERTISING DIRECTORY: Bates of Advertising: 1 square, (twelve lines or less,) first insertion, $1 00 “ Each continuance, 50 Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding six lines, per year, 5 00 Announcing Candidates for Office, * 3 00 Standing Advertisements: Advertisements not marked with the number of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and eitarged accordingly. 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 Bequirements: Sales of Land and Negroes by Administrators, Exec mors 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 lic Gazette, forty 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 be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court oi 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, forty days. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be published monthly, for four months —lor compelling titles from Ex ecutors or Administrators, where a bond has been issued by the deceased, the full space of three months. H&C Publications will always be continued according to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise or dered. g7A Q.'fatoiney j- -fhtucfciy, TTIIfO 9c LEWIS, Attorneys at haw, Greenes boro, Ga. The undersigned, having associated themselves together in the practice of law, will attend to all business intrusted to their care, with that prompt ness and efficiency which long experience, united with industry, can secure. Offices at Greenesboro and five miles west of White Plains, Greene county, Ga. Y. p. king. July 1, 1858. m. w. LEWIS. TETHIT G. JOHNSON, Attorney at Law, * * Augusta, Ga. will prompily 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 —Thos. R. R. Cobb, Athens, Ga. June 14 ly ROGER E. WIIIGHARI, Louisville, Jef 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, Tatnail and Scriven. April 26, 1856 ts T EONARD T*. DOVAL, Attorney at Law, McDonough, Henry county, Ga. will practice Law 1 in the following counties: Henry, Spaulding, Butts, Newton, Fayette, Fulton, DcKalb, Pike and Monroe. Feb 2-4 DH. SANDERS, Attorney at Law, Albany, • Ga. will practise in the counties of Dougherty, Sumter, Lee, Randolph, Calhoun, Early, Baker, Deca tur and Worth. Jan 1 ly HT. PERKINS, Attorney at Law, Greenes • boro, Ga. will practice in the counties of Greene, Morgan, Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliaferro, Hancock, Wilkes and Warren. Feb ly DHILLIP B. ROBINSON, Attorney at -t Law, Greenesboro, Ga. will practice in the coun ties of Greene. Morgan, Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliafer ro, Hancock* Wilkes and Warren. July 5, ’56-lv JAMES BROWN, Attorney at Law, Fancy Hill, Murray Cos. Ga. April 30, 1857. SIBLEY, BOGGSIc CO. WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN— Choice Family Groceries, Cigars, &c. 276 Broad Street, Augusta, Georgia. Feb 18,1858 ll Mo IPo Q'm'W&Mag Warehouse & Commission Merchant, AUGUSTA, GA. /CONTINUES the business in all its I O Jltl branches, in his large and commodi ous Fire-Proof Warehouse, on Jackson street, near the Globe Hotel. Orders for Goods, &c. promptly and carefully filled. The usual cash facilities afforded customers. July 22 6m* ’ Warehouse & Commission Merchants, AUGUSTA, GA. yr iHf TT A-VING entered into a co-part- Ml O |sig JET ship for the purpose of carrying on the Storage and Commission Business in all of its branches, respectfully solicit con signments of Cotton and other produce; also'orders for Bagging, Rope and family supplies. Their strict, per sonal attention will be given to the business. All the facilities due lrom factors to patrons shall he granted with a liberal hand. ISAAC T. HEARD, WM. C. DERRY. July 22d, 1858. WILL continue the WAREHOUSE and COM- ! MISSION BUSINESS nt their old stand on Jackson street. Will devote their personal attention to the Storage and sale of Cotton, Bacon, Grain, &c. Liberal cash advances made when required ; and all orders for Family Supplies, Bagging, Rope, &c. filled at the lowest market price. JOHN C. REES. [Aug 12] SAM’L D. LINTON. ” POULLAIN, JENNINGS & CO. GROCERS AND COTTON FACTORS, Opposite the Globe Motel, Augusta* Georgia. CONTINUE, as heretofore, in connection with 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 •tore, at theintcrsection of Jackson and R'eynold streets, to receive on storage all consignments made them. Liberal cash advances made on Produce in store, when requested. ANTOINE POULLAIN, 4 THOMAS J. JENNINGS, Aug 19 —6m ISAIAH PURSE. WAREHOUSE AND COMMISSION MERCHANT, AUGUSTA, GEORGIA. THE 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 ol ,h Cash Rope and Family Supplies, will be forwarded to customers as heretofore, when de sired. [Augusta, Ga. Aug 19-6 m i ! WANTED by a young lady, a graduate of * * a Southern College, a situation as TEACHER in a Primary and Preparatory School, or to teach Hair Braiding, Oil, Pastille and Grecian Painting, <k.c. Re ferences given if desired. Address L. G. S.. White Plains, Greene county, Ga. [Aug 26—It A Classical Teacher Wanted r D< > take charge of PIN E GROVE ACADEMY, -A- near Double Wells,. Warren county. Apply to either of the undersigned. WILLIAM B. BARKSDALE, MANNAM JONES, EDWIN BAKER, JOHN H. HUBERT, JOHN HEATH, Aug 26 M. H. HUBERT. ICS. MORGAN & MeGREGOR, Surgeon and Mechanical Dentists, Peniield, Ga. would inform the citizens ol Greene and adjoining counties, that they are prepared to perform any operation pertaining to their profession, with neatne-s and despatch. They will insert from one to an entire set of teeth, which, for beauty, durability, comfort and masticating, will compare with any either in this country or in Eu rope. It is their intention to please, and where perfect, satisfaction is not given, they will make no charge. Any call from the country that may be tendered them will meet with their prompt attention. W. MORGAN, L. W. McGREGOR. They refer to Dr. John B. Murphey, of Rome, Ga. Dr. C. B. Lombard, Athens, “ Sept 2, 1858. AUOUKTA, OEOROIA, ARE now purchasing one of the largest and most elegant stocks of Fall and Winter DRY GOODS that will be brought to this market this season, which will be bought under circumstances that will guarantee the purchase upon the very best terms, and will there fore enable us to sell them at such Unprecedentedly Low Prices that they cannot be undersold, and will DEFY ALL COMPETITION, AS TO QUALITY, STYLE AND PRICE. And as our rule of business is, AND NO DEVIATION, no one will pay over market price, as the rule forces the seller to ask the loirest market price, and protects the buyer. Therefore, If you wish goods at low prices, Go to BROOME & NORRELL’S. If you like fair and open dealing, Go to BROOME & NORRELL’S. If you dislike a dozen prices for the same article, and prefer “ one price,” Go to BROOME & NORRELL’S. If you don’t like to be “baited” one article, and pay doubly on another, Go to BROOME & NORRELL’S. In fact, if you wish to buy cheap goods, get good value for your money, and trade where you like to deal, and be pleased to see your friends, Go to BROOME & NORRELL’S ONE PRICE STORE! August 2, 1858 SELLING OFF AT COST! The subscriber, with a view to closing his busi ness, is now offering his entire stock of mer chandise at cost. Anyone in want of a bargain, ei ther in Dry Goods, Dress Goods, Ready-made Cloth ing, Hats, Caps, Boots,Shoes,Drugs, Medicines,Crock ery, Hollow and Willow Wares, &.C., &.C., will do well to call and examine my Stock, before purchasing. Peniield, Aug. 5 WM. B. SEALS. 130-000 BRICKS WANTED^ PROPOSALS will be received until Ist September, by the undersigned, for the delivery to them, in Penfield, of 130,000 bricks, oil or before the 15th of No vember next. Good clay can lie had within a quarter of a mile of the place of delivery. il. 11. TUCKER, .1. E. WILLET, W. B. SEALS, Penfield, Green Cos. Ga. N. M. CRAWFORD. Aug. 12, 1858 TIIE firm of COE & LATIMER is this day dis solved by mutual consent. 11. A. COE, Greenesboro, May Ist, 1858 J. S. LATIMER. The practice will be continued by who will visit Oxford, Penfield, White Plains, Mount Zion, Warren ton, Elberton, Danielsville Fort Lamar, oi which due notice will he given intlie Crusader and Gazette. Permanent office in J. CUNNINGHAM'S BLOCK, GREENESBORO. May 13, 1858 tjanl YOU can at all times find a fine assortment of TIN, exceedingly low for the Cash, with July 1, 1858 J. M. BOWLES. A SERMON AND ITS APPLICATION. The Reverend J. S. has attained a high distinc tion as a very forcible, though somewhat eccen tric preacher. He was at one time preaching in the city where he still labors, and has in his con gregation a rough but kind-hearted butcher, who was a little given to dividing the sermon audibly among the congregation —fearing, perhaps, that ; some of the hearers might not understand that the preacher meant them. On this occasion, Mr. S. had undertaken to point, out some of the faults of his people in relation to the observance of the Sabbath, and proceeded somewhat after this fash ion : “ Even when you come to the house of God, my brethren, your thoughts are not on His Word or on heavenly and divine things. One of you, for instance, will he thinking of yourwhalesliips (the town was a whaling port) and reckoning how much money yon will make out of it.” “That’s you, Deacon W.” interposed the butch er, in a voice audible all over the house, t “Another,” pursued the minister, “will be I thinking of the house he is building, and contriving how he can slight his work, so as to make it pro fitable.” “That's you, Deacon L.” again broke in the butcher. “Another,” continued Mr. S. “will be occupied with the thoughts of his goods, and with planning how he can sell more of them, and at a better profit.” “That’s you, brother B.” said the butcher. “ Another will be counting his gains from bis ; fisheries, and wishing he could catch larger quan tities or sell them faster,” j “That’s you, brother II.” interrupted the i butcher. j “Another,” said the pastor, “and he the worst | of all, because he breaks the Sabbath worse than | the-, rest, will rise on the Sabbath morning and ) kill a beef and dress it, so a3 to have it ready for i market on Monday morning.” “And that’s me !” roared the butcher, and ever j after held his peace. ) Happy is the man who lias health, competence | and contentment. Happy is the man who feareth not the sheriff— -1 who turn etli not aside from the constable—has i complied with the injunction of the Apostle: owe I no man anything. THE ADOPTED ORGAN OF ALL THE TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS IN THE STATE. PENFIELD, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 18 58. If |\ vL© IE IP A Elf M EIYIT iJJ BY MRS. M. E. BRYAN. HOME again, after a three weeks’ delightful holiday in the fair land of flowers; but a bas ket overflowing with unanswered letters and llie consciousness that afar off, mv esteemed associates are looking black at the non-appearance of my weekly packages, subtract considerably from the pleasure of being in the accustomed seat, donning the comfortable dressing gown, hearing the sweet home voices and breathing the perfumed airs that float in at my study window. Nothing of mine in the last number of the Crusader, and the literary editor compelled to throw aside his pen and make selections to “fillup.” lam sorry; but never mind! I rather think this constant strain on the mental powers is weakening, and perhaps the mind will be all the better and fresher for this little relaxing of the tension. Twice, during my absence, I resumed “the mighty instrument of little men,” but all in vain. The grey goose quill was no longer the wand of the magician, and not a thought or a fancy rose at its bidding. Not an idea nestled among my braids, that it was not chased away by the mirth ful voices below stairs, and then, when I left the town for a week’s visit to the country—the green, beautiful, bewitching country —it was an utter impossibility to tie down roving inclinations to pen and paper, when blue skies and flowery woods, and children’s witching voices were woo ing me away. I did write to our home paper a hurried letter of four pages, about my visit to Quincy—a pleasant visit truly, but the country | was most delightful. “ God made the country, I and man made the town the feeling will never become stale if the quotation is so, and certainly none but the hand of the Architect divine could have made “ Vaucluse” so lovely as when it met my eyes on that stilly summer evening one week ago. Fancy a grove of oaks—a bird’s nest cottage —the gateway overarched with old-fashioned En glish honeysuckle ; the walk shaded by cedars ; pink and blue China astors blooming in boxes ranged beneath the trees; the interior a temple of purity and neatness, and without, a winding footpath, leading down the hill to a spring at its foot, where the bright waters gush from a high bank, overhung by a shading tree and green with cool mosses, fern leaves, and the trailing, red fruited vines of the partridge berry. Sweet places to dream in were there at Vau cluse—their quiet, all the more acceptable, from its contrast to the gayety of the previous week ; one in the shade of the Magnolias, near where the bee hives were ranged and the busy workers hum med all day among the fragrant hop vines, whose clusters hung over the paling. Time himself might have fallen asleep in that soft, soporific atmosphere, and his rugged brow been smoothed by the kisses of golden dreams. Lad.us in umbra. Dumque thy mo pascentur apes. Such fragments of Virgil’s musical idyls floated dreamily through my brain as the hours went by, and the thyme fragrance of Mantua breathed around me and the tenuis arena of the shepherd piped from the hills. Rides and rambles through the summer woods were also the order of the day, and there were children, whose merry voices and gay laughter were refreshing as iced sherbet. It was such happiness to forget one’s self for a few brief, blessed hours and be a child with them again— to go with them beyond the waste field, covered with May apples, to the brook that wound through a natural vineyard, and fish with bent pins and elder stalks for the minnows that lurked beneath the overhanging water-flags. And then the delicious summer twilights, with the moon floating like a golden island in the grey, blue sky, and the stars faltering forth, like “first word of ‘ love from a maiden’s lips;” how delightful, then, j to tell fairy stories and sing elfin songs to little | brown heads lying in my lap; to hear the trem bling voice of the breeze whispering among the magnolias; to inhale the rare breathings of jas mine and rose, and to look up at the bright stars ! with such a sense of unutterable joy—of deep thankfulness—and murmur softly, “My father, l thank thee for all this beauty.” These are among the memories that cluster around those fleeting weeks—memories that make the heart purer and better; that are worth any dry disser tation on morality ever contained between cloth or morocco bindings. Ah well! if I give memory therein, she will wander all night among the groves of Vaucluse; and here are these unanswered letters. How in the world am I ever to “ catchup” again with my correspondence? I have broken the seals of most of the envelopes, and fortunate it is, that four of the letters are from editors—a class of men that rarely judge harshly ; that have learned patience in the school of experience, and there fore will not allow 7 their equanimity to be disturb ed by an occasional delay. Here is one from a new correspondent—of Jefferson, Georgia—dated nearly a month ago. You shall not go unan swered, my complimentary friend; but don’t you really think now that I have a poetry machine in my possession, and can grind out verses when ever I please, and on any given subject ? “ Natlie less” your request shall be complied with, though ; I wish you had been a little more explicit about i the lady. Has she blue eyes or brown ? is she ! sylplilike in appearance, or does she look as j though devoted to beans and bacon ? Yet another, from an esteemed correspondent i in Apalachicola, telling of busy labors through j the day, and lonely watchings and soul coimnun- 1 ings at midnight, with the silence only broken by the voice of waves breaking on the moonlit j shore. How unlike this letter, with its heart re- j vealiugs, to the easy, gossipping or deeply pliilo sophidal style of the writer, when he uses his pen for the public eye. Another—a business-like epistle—dated from the office of the Lumpkin Palladium. Ah! an editor again. Well; his patience hasstood severer tests before, I dare say. Ife will bear with me a while longer. A dainty little envelope, a sheet of perfumed note paper and two pages of delicate chirography, [ signed “ A Bride.” A bride! well, that is some • thing rare, indeed, and yet l might almost have guessed it; for the very envelope is redolent df • orange blossoms, and the paper is stampped in the corner with a pair of turtles, encircled by a wreath. s This makes the third time, 1 believe, that I have received such anonymous letters from la - dies, and each time I have answered them through i the paper; for I supposed it was their wish I s should do so, else why not give me their real names ? This letter is really a charming one, and I can | scarcely resist the temptation of giving it entire. | She has been married just three months: con j sequently, the honeymoon is at its zenith, and ■ everything cofev.r de rose; but even turtles cannot always be billing and cooing; Fred lias employ ment up town, and the little “ Bride” confesses | to a feeling of loneliness in, his absence, which •she fears will deepen into positive ennui. Listen to her pathetic account: “ Fred has business that takes him away at least seven hours in the day, and I do have such a. time passing these long mornings. 1 practise until my fingers ache, and then I embroider awhile, (1 am working Fred such a nice shirt bosom,) but 1 get tired of this, and I want something else to do. We are living with liis mother, so that all the housekeeping is taken off my hands. 1 used to write, when I was a girl. I wrote two pieces of poetry for the “ Ladies’ Companion,” signed “Anna.” I will cut them out and send them to you. I think of taking up the pen again as a dernier resortc, and Fred wishes me to do it. He says he should be so proud, if I could win a lite rary reputation. What do you say to it?” That I would bite my finger nails awhile yet, before trying that “ dernier resorte,” “ Little Bride.” Names are not so easily won, when the applicants are legion. The market is already overstocked, and manuscripts besiege every editor’s office, thick as leaves in Vallambrosa. The mania for authorship is fast approaching its climax. Then, there will come a re-action. Literature will be come so common that it will cease to command fame or pay, and then the “unordained ones” (for many are called, but few are chosen) will leave the field to those whom genius prompts to make authorship their profession. That the ma jority of these will be females, none who have no ted the “ signs of the times” will gainsay. But they will not be such as you are, dear lady—you, sheltered under the wing of love—rocked in the softly-lined nest of plenty. They will be women who have been tried in the fiery furnace of want, whose latent capabilities and energies have been developed by strong, forcing circumstances —wo- men who write for dear life’s sake, to keep the wolf from their door, and who look for inspirx tion into the hungry eyes of the dear ones de pendent on them for bread. And that other class—who write from the dictates of their own restless, dissatisfied hearts, that thwarted in wo man's natural destiny—to love and to bo loved— debarred forever from all the “sweet, domestic charities that make life dear,” forbid by fate to wear the blest name of wife, or know the holy joy of sheltering, household affection—turn for con solation to the genius that would else have served but to enliven the domestic hearth. And think you that the thoughts which flow from their pens will be colored by their own sombre expe riences? Ah ! little do you know of true genius, if you fancy that it is dependent upon outward influences, personal feelings or real experiences. It is as high above all these as the stars are above the clouds that sometimes veil them. But how 1 have enlarged upon a subject of such little importance! Surely it would not matter much, fair “bride,” if you should, write verses for the newspapers; only it will hardly re pay you for wasting foolscap, inking your pretty fingers and neglecting your hair, to have the edi tor of the Gem call you “our fair correspondent,” or the Despatch copy your affecting lines “on the death of a lady.” I think I should rather have Fred’s mother show me how to make citron pud dings, (of which I venture to say he is fond, if he is like other men,) or read to the old lady while she is sewing, or work Freddy himselt a pair of slippers after that “ national pattern,” which J think the prettiest Godey has given ; or else get Fred to bring you a pair of Canaries to pet and talk to until other bird lings shall seek your please nt nest—tender, winsome, heaven-sent fledgelings, human and immortal, that shall man age to occupy your time and effectually banish ennui. 1 However, here are my best wishes for your hap piness and success in whatever you undertake, whether it be the manufacture of poetry or pina fores. And now, no farther peep into the letter bas l ket to-night. I merely meant to plead an excuse to subscribers and associates for my delinquency, and 1 have gossipped away, in a style more enter taining to me, perhaps, than to my readers. M. E. B. , ELEANOR LEE. BY MARY E. BUYAN. The vines are torn from the drooping bowers, And lie strewn and withered around, And the rain has beat the crimson flowers Deep into the gray, wet ground ; And the mottled leaflets fall, frail things, Like wounded birds with their blood-stained wings. Mournfully, over wood and heath Are wandering the restless winds, And there’s that in their voice that tells ol death, As they sing to the gloomy pines ; While the dull, gray face of the moaning sea Is the saddest sight on earth to me. Eleanor Lee, pale Eleanor Lee, Why lie ’mid these mouldering stones? I can bear no longer your tears to see, Or list to your pitilul moans. Put the dark, damp locks away from your lace, And go with me from this burial place. Come, walk with me on this lone sea side, Where the rushes bend to the wave; Where we wandered, long ere you were a bride, Or wept o’er your baby’s grave. ! ’Tis of those old days that I now would speak— j Even now—with those tears on your cold, white cheek. | Y r on knew that I loved you, Eleanor Lee ; That 1 lived for you alone; i That your smile was as sun and star to me. And your voice was music’s own. : The heart matures long ere brain and brow, And I loved you then as I love you now. ) I What parted us then, God only knows, And I shall not ask you now. j Let Oblivion’s tomb o’er the dead past, elose Broken troth and bridal vow — But I wandered away, over land and sea, And left you a bride, oh! Eleanor Lee. And still, ’mid Araby’s deserts bare, And’neath tropic skies ol blue To my soul, like the voice of the wandering an, Caine there haunting thoughts ot you; And the pale, sad face of Eleanor Lee Was the sweetest thing under Heaven to me. I came to my native home at last, And found—well it matters not— I cannot speak of thy wrongs that are past li is best that they bo forgot; But thou had’st suffered—Heaven knows how deep— And thine eyes had learned what it was to weep. ; There arc loves that change with the changing moon— j That wax and wane in an hour— An idle gift—a pultry boon— Scarcely worth a laded flower. And there are hearts that all change defy, And a love that never can dim or die. Look up, look up, my Eleanor Lee— Cold the sea and the sky above; But here is a warm, true heart for thee, And freighted with living love; For the heart, that in youth was all thine own, ’ Is true to thee still, though its youth has flown. It Thomasville. THE TREASURED ROSE BUD. inscribe <* R^Tw7 m , of Jefferson, (fa. Bv W4M ! Tlier< ; Driglit blossoms blooming in garden and i ( ( glade i Their red peluls curled like the lip of i maid— Their cups filled with dew and all fraught with perfume ; Vet, not lor their freshness of fragrance and bloom, Wou'd I give this pale flower, now withered and dead : for a spell o’er it hangs, though its beauty has fled, And not all the roses that bloomed in Cashmere Would he prized half so highly, or held half so dear. For thy white fingers, love, have my paleflowret press ed. l'erchance it had smiled on thy brow or thy breast, And thy dear hand bestowed the sweet treasure on me, Prized, cherished and loved, because given by thee; A sol! fragrance floats round its dead petals still, Like the memories of thee, that my lone bosom fill; And no pearl from the ocean, nor gem from the mine, f ould tempi me to part with this token of thine. (, h ! sad is the heart that turns to t.hce to-night; t‘or sorrow has thrown o’er my spirit its blight; Hut some flower will bloom on the loneliest grave; Some starbeam will shine on the gloomiest wave ; Some dieam to the captive’s lone heart will be given; Some pitying angel look on him from Heaven; And thy smile is the light on my life’s dark stream— My flower and my angel—mv star and my dream. Jefferson, Cm. “SWEET ARB THE USES OF ADVERSITY.” MIS f OR'l UNE crushes some natures; others it exalts. There are delicate wayside blossoms, made for nothing but sun and dew, that yield to the first storm that sweeps over them; but there are hardier plants that bend to the blast but to rebound again, stronger and more firmly rooted than before. There are natures, God be thanked! that not even the iron wheel of penury and wrong can ever crush to earth ; and there is no courage so all-conquering, no strength so omnipotent as that born of sorrow. Ah! astern, but a potent teacher, is misfortune. “ Want is a great thing,” says a well known writer—“a parent ol great things.” Aye; and so is injustice. Let the world hut turn fiercely against a man of strong, j hut dormant, capabilities, and you will soon see what is.in him. Like Macbeth, when he cannot fly he will fight. Hand to hand, he will contend with the great Gorgon—the world—and ten to one hut he comes out a victor. For it is a hum bug—this hydra-headed society— about which they talk so much. It cannot look you in the eyes. Face it steadily, with a hold, defiant countenance and a firmly planted foot, and it is your obedient servant ever tfter. The battle is always to the strongest, pro vided the shield of a clear conscience be worn by the combatant. And there is a pleasure in thus winning, in despite of fate, the joy which a strong swimmer feels in dashing aside the opposing waves with his sturdy arms. Difficulties in the path of fortune give zest and variety to lile, and incite hold minds to loftier ambition. Ignoble natures find their mistake when they torture such spirits into desperation by their injustice. The courage of despair is | strong as death. The lamb hows to the knife of the butcher, hut the caged lion will break his iron bars if goaded into madness; and the oak, if rent in twain, will, as in the fable of old, crush its destroyer by the rebound that follows. M. E. 15. It OMAKCE. ffT)0OII!” said my aunt, “romantic indeed j JL What nonsense you are talking, child. If ever 1 was so foolish in my youth, i have out lived it long ago,” and she smoothed her lace cap border, glanced up at the old-fashioned oval mirror that hung opposite, and then, smothering a half sigh, turned to her knitting again. Ah that sigh! it betrayed her; for what else had awakened it hut the brief glance backward to the youthtime she had alluded to? And was not that regret a token of the romance she disci limed? Ah! aunt Addie, do you think that any one ever wholly outlives all romance? Js there not a fountain of sentiment in every heart, and does it not keep the flowers of feeling fresh and green forever? And when the- incrustings of selfish ness, of distrust, of worldliness and hitter experi ence gather over it, and the moss of f time man tles it around, can we not hear the murmur of its waters far beneath, in the dim twilight time, or haunted midnight, when the voices of earth are silent, and the soul turns hack upon itself? And are there not times when the slightest thing on earth—the soft touch of a child, the voice of a bird, the fragrance of a flower, a word or tone of music, a memory or a dream, may break through the incrustings of years and unlock the fountain cnee again ? Do we ever lose all sympathy with youth, with its joys, its loves, its hopes, its aspirations? When I came a guest to your pleasant home in the days long gone by, dear auntie, and made you confi dant of my little love experiences, in the vine hung porch beneath the summer moonlight, you did not repulse me then: you were not cold and calculating; you did not sneer at my romance; hut you gave mo true, heart-warm sympathy and kindly counsel. And 1 remember once when you lay in your darkened room, and I bathing your temples for the pain that throbbed there like a living thing, you would not let me hush the mer riment of Jennie and Addie in the passage, be cause you liked to hear their ringing laughter, and know that they were happy. You did not believe in abridging the joys of childhood. And you still keep the anniversary of little Addie’s death, and you love all the flowers she loved and hoard her pretty playthings to look at and weep over when you are alone. And I know, too auntie, why you always speak so kindly to poor inebriates, and will not suffer them to ho ridi. culed: It is for the sake of one you loved long ago in your early girlhood—one loved hut never wedded —who to the wine cup “ flowed his haughty manhood down, And made its glories dim.” What is all this hut a relic of that romance which the worldly wise ones would have us be lieve belongs to the season of youth alone? I know that individuals—elderly ones especially— are fond of talking of their “common sense” and “ matter-of-fact” proclivities, and would have us think that the iron ploughshare of Time has des troyed every profitless flower in the garden of the heart, and sown it with useful grain instead; but believe mo, a few blossoms still lurk beneath the ripening wheat; the fountain is not yet adry, though the moss hangs over it a hoary veil. And why deny tho possession of sentiment ? Romance is a beautiful, purifying influence—just enough of it to slightly tinge the harsh realities of life with colour dr, rose, to keep warm a little corner of the heart, as a shrine for love and hope and—religion. Yes, religion; for is not romance beautifully blended with our Christian faith? Else, why its touching ceremonies and observan ces —the last supper; the solemn baptismal; the lonely fastings; the festival of the Advent? EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. VOL. XXIV. NUMBER 35 I *” ‘ - ’ - ’■ ‘• Truth was veiled in fiction in the apostolic age; the sea of Gallilee, the brook of Kedron, and the willowy hanks of Jordan witnessed the Mes siah’s lonely musings. Mary wiped his feet, un rebuked, with her flowing hair, and “ Jesus” him selt “wept” at the grave of a mortal. Then let not philosophy or experience sneer at romance. It is as necessary to the harmony of life as the softening clouds are to the summer sky, or the flowers to the beauty of earth. There may, perchance, be natures that a long course of mercenary selfishness, or of sternest wrong and sorrow, have converted into a desert waste —vis- ited by no sweet breath of tenderness—freshened by no dews of feeling: hut such are rare, indeed, and we cannot hut believe that somewhere in the wide world there exists for such hearts the magic rod of the prophet of old, which, if found, might smite the sterile rock and call forth the hidden fountain. FRENCH KISSING. A sprightly, amusing Paris correspondent of one of the papers thus describes the rage so kissing in “ La Belle France:” “The almost universal custom of kissing in Paris seems at first singular to a stranger coming from the country where the proprieties of life rarely permit you to take a lady’s hand—much less to salute her. In France to kiss a lady with whom you are not intimate, is very common; es pecially is this the ease if she is a married lady. Not only the members of the family, but all the guests expect invariably to salute the lady of the house, on coming down in the morning. But though the modest American may, perhaps, es cape the ceremony on ordinary occasions, yet, on New Year’s morning it is imperative. On that morning I came down to my coffee about 9 o’clock. I sat down quietly, bidding Madame bonjour, as on ordinary occasions. In a few moments she was at my elbow, with— “ Mons. B. I am angry with you.” I expressed a regret and annoyance of having given her any reason. “Ah,” said she, “ you know very well the rea son. It is because you did not embrace me this morning when you came down.” Madame was a lady of perhaps twenty-eight, with jet black, glossy hair, and a clear, fair com plexion. She ws very beautiful; had she been plain, I should have felt less embarrassed. She waited as though expecting me to atone for my neglect; but how could Ido it before the whole table ? I sat all this time trembling in my seat. At length Madame said: “ Mons. 15. embrasez moi.” The worst had come. I arose, trembling, put my bloodless lips, all greasy with butter and wet with coffee, (for in my embarrassment I had drop ped my napkin,) to those of Madame. This was my first French kiss.” A FA CT. Shortly after the explosion on hoard the Vir ginia, an accomplished young lady (twenty years of age or thereabouts) was coming across the lake on one of the mail boats, and was very apprehensive that a like disaster might befall the steamer to which was committed the transporta tion of her fair —very fair person. Calling an in telligent looking waiter to her, she asked him, confidentially—“ls it usual for the mail boats to explode, waiter ?” “ No ma’am ; these boats never explodes.” “ Well, but it might explode, mightn’t it? You know the Virginia never exploded before she did the other day,” continued the lady. “ Yes ma’am, the boat might explode, though the mail boats never explodes,” asseverated the waiter, and sticking to the last assertion, though yielding a possibility concession to the fair ques tioner’s logic. “ Well, waiter, could you tell if the boat was going to explode?” The waiter considered a moment, and would have been no true steamboat waiter if, in that brief moment, villainy had not got the upper hand in him: “Oh, yes, ma’am! I’ve been on the Hudson River boats, I have; 1 can tell when a boat’s ago ing to explode—can tell a half an hour before she blows up, but I has to watch mighty close to find out.” The apprehensive young lady was delighted, and at once secured the valuable alliance of the far-seeing and sea-faring waiter by the donation of a-half a dollar, accompanying it with strict in junctions that she should be called at least a-half an hour before an explosion occurred, that she might take measures to get out of danger in time. — N. 0. True Delta. Good deeds, however humble the doer, are more enduring than the proudest structures of wealth. A word may live when marble has was ted in the dust. The temple long since ceased to be, yet the two mites of the widow—all that she had—are remembered. The world cares not for the jewelled baubles in the Vatican, or how looked they on a Caesar’s brow. But it weeps in memory of a crown of thorns. How many con querors, with their deeds and fame, are buried under the debris of the past. The heroism of a Howard receives the grateful homage of a Chris tian world. A Bonaparte desolated homes and nations. The philanthropist sought only the pri son house, and watered with silent tears the parched soul of the inmates. The laurels of the one are faded. Those of the other are blooming on in heaven, and his memory green on earth. The heroism of a trail English woman at Scutari, will be remembered when that of Balaklava and Inkerman is never thought of. Florence Nightin gale will live longer in history than the veteran who led the deadly storming of the Malakoffand Redan. Ah! there is something worthier-and grander than the name of the hero ; deeds more enduring than those of arms. The gentle foot fall in the hospital will echo through time and eternity. The belching thunders of Sebastopol, long sinco died out upon the air, and heavy tread of the storming columns. Peace hath its victories as well as war. In Sunday-school, in a central part of New York, an eminent divine was addressing the scholars, and in the course of his remarks, said that he hoped that none present had ever diso beyed their parents, lied, or taken God’s name in vain. Here he was interrupted by a little boy, of seven years, triumphantly exclaiming, ‘Pve done ’em all at once.’ — It is generally observed that persons of about forty years, especially of young ladies of that age, are very forgetful of those with who they were ac quainted in childhood. This remarkable dimness *of memory has been very appropriately styled “The darkness of the middle ages.”