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. f* . ■ i’ ‘ f ’* 3 dirt ifl't’wjjerivnce Tb rtteaiW. JOHN 11. SEALS, NEW SERIES, VOLUME HL O/rilE GEORGIA'O TEMPERANCE CRUSADER. Published every Thursday in the year, except two, TERMS I Two Dollars per year, in advance. JOHN H. SEALS, Sols Proprietor. LIONEL L. VEAZEY, Editor Literary Department. MBS M. E. BRYAN. Editress. JOHN A. REYNOLDS, Publisher. ®UuaL&> 0a.310^33® Clubs of Ten Names, by sending the Cash, will receive the paper at ... - 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. - ■ ADVERTISING DIRECTORY: Hates 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: not marked with the number of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and charged accordingly. Druggists and others, may contract for advertising by the year on reasonable terms. Legal Advertisements: Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Ex ecutors and Guardians, per square, 5 00 Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators, Ex ecutors and Guardians, per square, 3 25 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25 Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00 Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n, 500 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guard’p, 3 25 Legal Requirements: Sales of Land and Negroes by Administrators, Exec utors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the First Tuesday in the month, between the hours oi 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 Gazett e, 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/orty 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. Publications will always be continued according to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise or dered. odtloittey Qjciectay, KOfG & LEWIS, Attorneys at Law, Greenes- I 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. kino. July 1, 1858. m. w. LEWIS. WIIIT 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. WHIGIIAM, Louisville, Jes ferson county, Georgia, will give prompt attention to any business intrusted to his care, in the following counties : Jefferson, Burke, Richmond, Columbia, War ren, Washington, Emanuel, Montgomery, Tatnall and Scriven. April 26, 1856 ts LEONARD T. DOYAE, Attorney at Law, McDonough, Henry county, Ga. will practice Law in the following counties: Henry, Spaulding, Butts, Newton, Fayette, Fulton, DeKalb, Pike and Monroe. Feb 2-4 DII. 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, Greencs * boro, Ga. will practice in the counties of Greene, Morgan, Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliaferro, Hancock, Wilkes and Warren. Feb ly PHILLIP B ROBINSON, Attorney at Law, Greenesboro, Ga. will practice in the coun ties of Greene Morgan. Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliafer ro, Hancock. Wilkes and Warren. July 5, ’56-lv TAMES BROWN, Attorney at Law, Fancy J Hill, Murray Cos. Ga. April 30, 1857. SIBLEY, BOGGS & CO. —WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN— Choice Family Groceries, Cigars, &c. 276 Broad Street, Augusta, Georgia. Feb 18,1858 m.o jpo ~ Warehouse & Commission Merchant, AUGUSTA, GA. % /CONTINUES the business in all its J= O- branches, in his large and commodi ous Fire-Proof Warehouse, on Jackson strceti near the Globe Hotel. Orders for Goods, &c. promptly and carefully filled. The usual cash facilities afforded customers. July 22 6m s basis a mot* Warehouse & Commission Merchants, AUGUSTA, GA. —* entered into a co-part- M O Jj-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 from factors to patrons shall be granted with a liberal hand. ISAAC T. HEARD, WM. C. DERRY. July22d, fc> 8. mass & mtsr® t ©iT WILL continue the WAREHOUSE and COM MISSION BUSINESS at 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 J, D. LINTON. ~ I’OIILLAIN, JENNINGS & CO. GROCERS AND COTTON FACTORS, Opposite the Cilobe Hotel, 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 lireproot VV are house, now in process of erection iix the front of their store, at the intersection of J ackson and Reynold streets, to receive on storage all consignments made them. Liberal cash advances made on Produce in store, requested. ANTOINE FOOLXAgJ^ 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- his care, he hopes he will receive a share of the public patronage. Cash Advances, Bagging, Rope and Family Supplies, will be forwarded to customers as heretofore, when de sired. [Augusta, oa. Aug 19-6 m CANDIDATES FOR OFFICE. GARRETT WOODHAM offers himself to the voters of Greene county, lor the office of Tax Re ceiver, at the election in January next. |OIIN H. SNELLINGS offers himself to the vo *J ’ ters of Greene county, rs a candidate for the office of Tax Collector, at the election in January next. M. JONES offers himself to the voters of -LN * Greene county, as a candidate for the office of Tax Collector, at the election in January next. HENRY WEAVER offers himself to the voters of Greene county, as a candidate for the office of Tax Receiver, at the election in January next. WE are authorized to announce the name of JOEL C. BARNETT, Esq. ofMadison, Ga. as candidate for Solicitor General of the Ocmulgee Circuit, the first Monday in January next. GREENE COUNTY LEGAL NOTICES. ’ GREENE SHERIFF’S SALES, WELL be sold befove the ccurt houso door in the city ofGreenes boro, on the FIRST TUESDAY in NOVEMBER next, within the legal hours of sale, the following property, to-wit: One house and lot in the village of Penfield, whereon B. E. Spencer now lives ; also, a negro woman named Mary, about forty years old ; also, one pair counter scales: Levied on as the property of B. E. Spencer, to satisfy ofifa from the Superior Court, in favor of C. C. Norton vs B. E. Spencer and Joseph H. English. Also, at the same time and place, 6 cane bottom chairs, 6 Windsor chairs, 1 bureau, 4 chests, 2 beds, bedstead and furniture, 1 wardrobe, I carpet and 1 clock: Levied on as the property of B. E. Spencer, to satisfy a fi fa from Greene Superior Court, in favor of Scranton, Seymour & Cos. vs B. E. Spencer and Henry English. Property pointed out by Henry English. Also, at the same time and place, one negro boy named Jim. about 22 years old: Levied on as the prop erty of Henry English, to satisfy two fi fas from Supe rior Court of said county, one in favor of Scranton, Sey mour & Cos. vs B. E. Spencer and Henry English, and one in tavor of Scranton, Kolb & Cos. vs said Spencer and English. I. MORRISON, Sheriff. Sept 30, 1858 - A I,SO. AT THE SATIIE TIME AND PLACE, Two hundred acres of land, more or less, whereon R. A. Newsom now lives, adjoining Dr. B. F. Carlton, P. W. Printup and others ; also, two negroes, one a man named Ned, about 55 years old, dark complexion, and a negro woman named Martha, about forty-five years old, ot dark complexion: Levied on as the property of Richard A. Newsom, to satisfy sundry fi fas from Greene “Su perior and Inferior Courts, in favor of James W. As bury, and other fi fas in my hands vs Richard A. New som. C. C. NORTON, D. S. Sept 30, 1858 FOR SALE OR EXCHANGE, MY house and lot in Penfield ; it is two story, nine rooms and fire-places, conveniently situated in the centre of the town, and known asthePENFIELD HOTEL. Also, my plantation near Bairdstown, on Little River, being nearly six hundred acres, two hundred, or more, cleared, supposed to be one hundred acres in bottom, with good Dwelling-house, Gin-house, Screw, and all necessary out buildings. This land may be had for se ven dollars per acre. H. NEESON. Oct. 7—2 t 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. Any one 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, &.e., &c., will do well to call and examine my Stock, before purchasing. Penfield, Aug. 5 WM. B. SEALS. qrUIE GEORGIA TEMPERANCE CRUSADER JL offers greater inducements to advertisers, we verily believe, than any paper of the same circula tion, and that is scarcely exceeded in Georgia. A TRUTH TELLING STORY. The following is the conclusion of a touching sketch which appears in the Boston Herald: The proprietor was vexed. He tossed the shirt to his customer and said, “Sir, you simply insult me when you affirm that this garment is not clean —that it has the least stain upon it. You can leave my store, sir. Ido not desire to sec you again !” There whs a singular gleam in the eyes of the customer as he dashed the bundle upon the floor, where he trample l it. He exclaimed in a frenzy, Tt is stained—damnably 1 I saw a pale young wo man stitching it for small price—for half price —for almost no price. Her tears fell fast and scalding upon it! It is well you say you can make it no whiter by your washing; for those tears which were the blood of a soul, are stitched into every seam. I cannot wear it—’twould burn like fire. It was her last shirt; you have driven her forth and she now walks the path that leads to hell, every day. She’s a Broadway prostitute ! i No, no, no, you can’t wash it out; you can never wash it out?” “Poor lunatic,” said the proprietor, “I thought all along this man was crazy ?” and he went im mediately for an officer, to have his troublesome customer removed to a lun atie hospital. A MOUSE HUNT. I was stopping last summer at Cape May, and of course my wife was with me. About 2 o’clock one morning I was awakened by a reveille tap from my better half. “For gracious sake!” she whispered, “if you want to laugh just listen to that gentleman and his wife hunting a mouse in the next room.” “Ee ce aw !” I murmured, half awake. “Now do just wake up. To-morrow, when I tell the story, you’ll be sorry you were not awake to the reality.” Thus abjured, I awoke in right earnest, too late to hear any of the mouse hunt, but just in time to hear the next room door open, and a little quiv ering dandy voice, which I at once recognized as that of Prinkey, call out to some distant night walker: ]|“Waitaw! waitaw ! waitaw !” No answer. “Potaw! potaw ! potaw 1” “Watchman ! watchman ! watchman 1” “That’s me sir, growled a deep voice. “Watchman come here diwectly! We’re in gwate twouble ! There’s a mouse in this apawt ment, and it nibbles all around in the most dis twactcd manner. I spoke to Mr Ha’wood about it, and he pwomised to have the mouse wemoved but he hasn’t done it. Aw think it vewy unhond some conduct of Mr. Ila’wood to allow the mouse to wemain after pwomisiug that it should be we moved. Watchman, Mrs. Prinkey is vewy ap pwehensive of mice. Can’t you come in and catch the eweature?” “ ’Fraid not, Sir. It’s too late, and I should be sure to wake up some boarders as mightn’t like it.” “llow ridiculous ! Well, (a long pause,) watch man, couldn’t you just step down to the baw woom and get some cwaclcers and cheese, and entice the animal out into the entwy ?” A brief remark from the watchman that the bar was closed sent Mr. Prinkey back into his mouse-haunted dormitory. A Learned Justice. — An old offender was lately brought before a learned justice of the peace. The constable, as a preliminary, informed ‘ that lie had in custody John Sim mons, alias Jones, alias Smith. “Very well,” I said the magistrate, r “ I will try the two women first; bring in Alice -Jones.” THE ADOPTED ORGAN OE ADD THE TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS IN THE STATE. PENFIELD, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14, 185 8. CHOICE SELECTIONS. THE EXECUTION OP MARY STEWART. From the seventh volume of the “ Lives of the Queens of Scot kind, by Agnea Strickland.” AT six o’clock on the fatal morning of the Bth February, Mary Stewart told her ladies “ she had but two hours to live, and bid them dress her as for a festival.” Very minute particulars of that last toilette have been preserved, both by French and English historians, and a contempo rary MS. in the Vatican contains a description of it from the pen of an eye-witness of her death. It is there stated that she wore a widow’s dress of black velvet, but spangled all over with gold, a black satin pourpoint and kirtle, and under these a petticoat of crimsc n velvet, with a body of the same color, and a white veil of the most delicate texture, of the fashion worn by princesses of the highest rank, thrown over her coil, and descend ing to the ground; also, which is not mentioned in any other account, that she had caused a cam isole of fine Scotch plaid, reaching from the throat to the waist, but without a collar, to be pre pared the night before, that when her upper gar ments should be removed, she might escape the distress of appearing uncovered before so many people. While her ladies were assisting her to dress, she, with the feminine delicacy of a really modest woman, earnestly entreated them to be watchful over her in the last terrible moment, when, ob served she, “I shall be incapable of thinking of this poor body, or bestowing any care upon it. Oh, then, for the love of the blessed Saviour, abandon me not while under the hands of the executioner!” They promised, wifli streaming eyes, to be near her and to cover her body as she fell. Then she entered her oratory alone, and, kneel ing before the miniature altar, at which her al moner had been accustomed to celebrate mass, opened the gold and jeweled ciborium in which the Pope had sent her a consecrated wafer with a dispensation to do what had never before been permitted to one of the laity—administer the Eucharist to herself preparatory to her death, if denied the ministration of a priest. It is impos sible for a Protestant biographer to describe the feelings with which Mary Stuart performed her lonely communion, under circumstances so strange to a member of the Roman Catholic Church. No mortal eye beheld her in that hour; but the following Latin prayer is well known to have been extemporized by her during her last devotions, on the morning of her death: “ O Domine Feus, speravi in te; O care me Jesu, nunc libera me. In dura catena, in misera pena?; desidero Languendo, gemendo et genu flectendo Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me!” “ My Lord and my God I have hoped in Thee ; O Jesus, sweet Saviour, now liberate me. I have languished for Thee in afflictions and chains ; Lamenting and sighing through long years of pains. Adoring, imploring on humbly bowed knee, I crave of thy mercy, by grace set me free !” The wintry morning had dawned before Mary left her oratory. She then concluded her letter to her royal brother-in-law, Henry HI. of France, by adding several earnest petitions in behalf of her faithful servants, and the final date: “The morning of my death, this Wednesday, Bth Feb ruary. Signed Marie R.” She returned to her bed chamber, where, seat ing herself beside the fire, she began to console her weeping maids by declaring the comfort she felt in her approaching release from her long af flictions, and reminded them “that her uncle, the late Duke of Guise, had told her in her child hood ‘ that she possessed the hereditary courage of her race, and he thought she would well know how to die;’” yet, he had never anticipated the possibility of her suffering the terrible death by which she was about to verify the truth of his prediction. She spoke of the transitory nature of human felicity, and the vanity of earthly great ness, whereof she was destined to serve as an ex ample—having been Queen of the realms of France and Scotland, the one by birth, the other by marriage; and after being at the summit of all worldly honor, had to submit herself to the hands of the executioner, though innocent, which was her greatest consolation—the crime alleged against her being only a flimsy pretext for her destruction. At the foot of the stairs—which, on account of her lameness, she descended slowly and with great difficulty, supported on each side by two of Paulet’s officers, who held her up under her arms —she was met by Andrew Melville, who was now permitted to join her. lie threw himself on liis knees before her, wringing his hands in an uncon trollable agony of grief, the violence of which al most shook the majestic calmness she liad hith erto preserved. “ Woe is me,” cried he, weeping bitterly, “that ever it should be my hard hap to carry back such heavy tidings to Scotland us that my good and gracious Queen and mistress lias been beheaded in England.” “ Weep not, Mel ville, my good and faithful servant,” she replied. “Thou shouldst rather rejoice that thou shalt now see the end of the long troubles of Mary Stuart; know, Melville, that this world is but vanity and full of sorrows. lam Catholic, thou Protestant; but as there is but one Christ, I charge thee in His name to bear witness that I die firm to my religion, a true Scotch woman, and true to France. Commend me to my dearest and most sweet son. Tell him I have done nothing to pre judice him in his realm, nor to disparage his dig nity; and that although I could wish he were of my religion, yet, if he will live in the fear of God, according to that in which he has been nur tured, I doubt not he shall do well. Tell him, from my example, never to rely too much on hu man aid, but to seek that which is from above. If he follow my advice, he shall have the bless ing of God in Heaven, as I now give him mine on earth.” She raised her hand aS she concluded, and made the sign of the cross, to bless him in his absence, and her eyes overflowed with tears. “My God,” continued she, “forgive them that have thirsted for my blood as the hart doth for the brooks of water. O God, who art the autlipr of truth, and the truth itself, thou knowest that I have always wished the union of England and Scotland.” One of the commissioners, doubtless the pitiless earl of Kent, here interrupted her by reminding her “ that the time was wearing apace.” “ Farewell,” she said, “ good Melville. Farewell. Pray for thy Queen and mistress.” The passion ate grief of her faithful servant brought infectious tears to her eyes. She bowed herself on his neck and wept; and, with like sensibility as her cousin, Lady Jane Grey, had kissed and embraced Freck enkam on the scaffold, so did she vouchsafe, as sovereign might, without disparagement to regal dignity, or departure from feminine reserve, the like affectionate farewell to that true subject who had shared her prison, and was following her to death. She who had experienced the ingratitude of a Moray, a Lethington, aud a Mar could well appreciate the faithful love of Andrew Melville. Another gentleman came to kiss Mary Stuart’s hand, and bid her farewell on her way to execu tion. He exhibited and offered her his most tender sympathy, together with expressions “of regret and indignation that her blood should bo cruelly slied while under his roof.” This was Sir William, of Milton, who at that time held Foth eringhay Castle on lease from the Crown. Os a very different spirit from Sir Amyas Paulet, this fine old English gentleman had shown the royal prisoner all the kind attention in his power. Mary thanked him for his “gentle entreatment of her while in his house,” and begged him “to accept, and keep, as a memorial of her grateful appreciation of his courtesy, the portrait of the King her son, which lie would find hanging at her bed’s head, being her last remaining posses sion that she had not bequeathed.” The procession proceeded in the following or der: Frst, came the Sheriff and his men ; next, Mary’s keepers,drir Amyas Paulet and Sir Drue Drury, the Earl of Kent and Beale; then the Earl of Shrewsbury, as Earl Marshal, bearing his baton raised, immediately preceding the Royal victim, who, having rallied all the energies of her courageous spirit to vanquish bodily infirmity, moved with aproud, firm stem. She was followed by Melville, who bore her train, and her two weeping ladies, clad in mourning weeds. The rear was brought up by Bourgoigne, Gourion and Gervais, her three medical attendants. A platform twelve feet square and two and a-half high, covered with black cloth, and sur rounded with a rail, had been erected at the up per end of the great banqueting ball at Fother inghay, near the fire-place, in which, on account of the coldness of the weather, a large fire was burning. On the scaffold were placed the block, the axe, a chair, covered also with black cloth, for the Queen, with a cushion of crimson velvet before it, and two stools for the Earls of Kent and Shrewsbury. About one hundred gentlemen, who had been admitted to behold the mournful spectacle, stood at the lower end of the hall; but the scaffold was barricaded, and a strong guard of the Sheriff’s and Earl Marshal’s men environed it to prevent the possibility of a rescue. The dignified composure and melancholy sweet ness of her countenance, in which the intellectual beauty of reflective middle age had superseded the charms that in youth had been celebrated by all the poets of France and Scotland, her majes tic and intrepid demeanor, made a profound im pression upon every one present when Mary Stu art and her sorrowful followers entered the hall of death. She surveyed the sable scaffold, the block, the axe, the executioner and spectators undauntedly as she advanced to the foot of the scaffold. ‘I hen she paused, for she required as sistance, and Sir Amyas Paulet tendered her his hand, to aid her in ascending the two steep steps by which it was approached. Mary accepted the proffered attention of her persecuting jailor with the queenly courtesy that was natural to her. “I thank your, sir,” said she, xvhen he had helped her to mount the fatal stair; “this is the last trouble I shall ever give you.” Having calmly seated herself in the chair that had been provided for her, with the two Earls standing on either side, and the executioner in front holding the axe, with the edge towards her. Beale sprang upon the scaffold with unfeeling alacrity, and read the death-warrant in a loud voice. She listened to it with a serene and even smiling countenance, but, as before, bowed her head and crossed herself when it was concluded, in token of her submission to the will of God. “Now, madam,” said the Earl of'Shrewsbury, “ you see what you have to do.” She answered briefly and emphatically, “Do your duty.” Then she asked for her almoner that she might pray with him; but this being denied, Dr. Fletcher, the Dean of Peterborough, standing directly be fore her without the rails, and bending his body very low, began to address her. “ Mr. Dean, trou ble not yourself for me,” said the Queen, “ for know that I am settled in the ancient Catholic and Roman faith, in defence whereof, by God’s grace, I mind to spend my blood.” “ Madame,” replied the Dean, “change your opinion, and re pent you of your former wickedness.” “ Good Mr. Dean,” rejoined she, “ trouble not yourself any more about this matter. I was born in this religion, and am resolved to die in this religion.” The Earls, perceiving her resolution was not to be shaken, said: “Madame, will you pray for your grace with Mr. Dean, that you may have your mind lightened with the true knowledge of God and his word?” “My lords,” replied the Queen, “if you will pray with me, I will even from my heart thank you; but to pray with you, in your manner, who are not of the same religion with me, tvere a sin.” The Earls then bade the Dean “say on according to his own pleasure.” This he did, not by reciting the beautiful office for the dying, or the burial service from our An glican Church, but in a bitter polemic composition of his own, tending neither to comfort nor edifi cation. Mary heeded him not, but began to pray with absorbing and tearful earnestness from her own breviary and psalter, uniting portions from the 31st, 51st and 91st Psalms. She prayed in Latin, in French, and finally in English, for God to pardon her sins and forgive her foes; for Chri. i ?t’s afflicted church ; for the peace and pros perity of England and Scotland ; for her son, and for Queen Elizabeth, not with the ostentation of a Pharisee, but the holy benevolence of a dying Christian. At the conclusion of her last prayer she arose, and holding up the crucifix, exclaimed: “As thy arms, O Christ! were extended on the cross, even so receive mo into the arms of Thy mercy, and blot out all my sins with Thy most precious blood.” “Madame,” interrupted the Earl of Kent, “it were better for you to eschew such Popish trumpery, and bear Him in your heart.” “Can I,” she mildly answered, “hold the representation of the sufferings of my cruci fied Redeemer in my hand without bearing him, at the same time, in my heart ?” The two executioners, seeing her preparing to make herself ready for the block, knelt before her and prayed her forgiveness. “ I forgive you all and all the world with all my heart,” sh( re plied, “ for I hope this death will give an end to all my troubles.” They offered to assist her in removing her mantle, but she drew back and re quested them not to touch her, observing, with a smile, “I have not been accustomed to be sened by sych pages of honor, nor to disrobe before so numerous a company.” Then beckoning to Jane Kennedy jtnd Elizabeth Curie, who were on their knees in tears below, they came to her on the scaffold; but when they saw for what purpose they were required, they began to scream and cry, and were too much agitated at first to i ender her the assistance she required; so that she began to take out the pins herself, a thing to which she was not accustomed. “Do not weep,” said she, tenderly reproving them. “I am very happy to leave this world. You ought to rejoice to see me die in so good a cause. Are you not ashamed to weep ? Nay, if you do not give over these lamen tations I must send you away, for you know I have promised for you.” Then she took off her gold pomander, chain and rosary which she had previously desired one of her ladies to convey to the Countess of Arun del as a last token of her regard. The execu tioner seized it, and secreted it in his shoe. Jane Kennedy, with the resolute spirit ot a brave Scotch lassie, snatched it fiom him, and a strug gle ensued. Mary, mildly interposing, said: “ Friend, let her have it, she will give you more than its value in money;” but he suddenly re plied, “It is my perquisite.” “It would have been strange, indeed,” observes our authority, with sarcastic bitterness, “ if this poor Queen had met with courtesy from an English hangman, who had experienced so little from the nobles of that country—witness the Earl of Shrewsbury and his wife.” Before Mary proceeded further in her prepara tions for the block, she took a last farewell of her weeping ladies, kissing, embracing and blessing them by signing them with the cross, which ben ediction they received on their knees. Her upper garments being removed, she re mained in her petticoat of “crimson velvet and camisole, which laced behind, and covered her arms with a pair of crimson velvet sleeves. Jane Kennedy now drew from her pocket the gold bordered handkerchief Mary had given her to bind her eyes. Within this she placed a “ Cor pus Christ! cloth,” probably the same in which the consecrated wafer sent to her by the Pope, had been enveloped. Jane folded it cornerwise, kissed it and, with trembling hands, prepared to execute this last office; but she and her compan ion burst into a fresh paroxysm of hysterical sob bing and crying. Mary placed her finger on her lips, reprovingly. “ Hush,” said she ; “ I have promised for you; weep not, but pray for me.” When they had pinned the handkerchief over the face of their beloved mistress, they were compelled to withdraw from the scaffold, and “ she was left alone to close up the tragedy of life by herself, which she did with her wonted courage and devotion.” Kneeling on the cushion, she repeated, in her usually clear, firm voice, “In te Domine speravi.” “In Thee, Lord, have I hoped; let me never be put to con fusion.” Being then guided by the executioners to find the block, she bowed her head upon it intrepidly, exclaiming as she did so, “In mams tuas.” “ Into tliy hands, 0 Lord, I commend my spirit.” The Earl of Shrewsbury raised Iris ba ton, in performance of his duty as Earl Marshal, to give the signal for the coup-de-grace, but he averted his head at the same time, and covered his*face with his hand to conceal his agitation and streaming tears. A momentary pause ensued, for the executioner’s assistant perceived that the Queen, grasping the block firmly with both hands, was resting her chin upon them, and that they must have been cut off or mangled he had not removed them, which he did by d ra wing them down and holding them tightly in hj •, own, while his companion struck her with the axe a cruel but ineffectual blow. Agitated alike by the courage of the royal victim and the sobs and groans of the sympathizing spectators, he missed his aim and inflicted a deep wound on the side of the skull. She neither screamed nor stirred, but her suffer ings were too sadly testified by the convulsion of her features, when, after the third blow, the butcher- ork was accomplished, and the severed head, str e aming with blood, was held up to the gaze of the people. “ God save Queen Elizabeth !” cried the executioner. “So let all her enemies perish !” exclaimed the Dean of Peterborough; one solitary voice alone responded “Amen!” It was that of the Earl of Kent. The silence, the tears and groans of the witnesses of the tragedy —yea, even of the very assistants in it—proclaimed the feelings with which it had been regarded. PORTRAIT OF WASHINGTON. Fr new volume of the History of the Revolution. COURAGE was so natural to him, that it wa s hardly spoken of to his praise. No one ever, at any moment of his life, discovered in him the least shrinking in danger, and he had a hardi ood of daring which escaped notice, because it was so enveloped by superior calmness and wis dom. He was as cheerful as he was spirited ; frank and communicative, in the society of his friends; fond of the fox chase and the dance; often sportive in his letters, and liked a hearty laugh. This joyousness of disposition remained to the last, though the vastness of his responsi bilities was soon to take from him the right of displaying the impulsive qualities of his nature, and the weight which he was to bear up was to overlay and repress his gaiety and openness. His hand was liberal, giving quietly and with out observation, as though he was ashamed of nothing but being discovered in doing good. He was kindly and compassionate, and of lively sen sibility to the sorrows of others; so that, if his country had only needed a victim for its relief, lie would have willingly offered himself as a sac rifice. But while he was prodigal of himself, he was considerate for others ; ever parsimonious of the blood of his countrymen. Ho was prudent in the management of his pri vate affairs, purchased rich lands from the Mo hawk valley to the flats of the Kanawha, and im proved his fortune by the correctness of his judg ment ; but as a public man, be knew no other aim than the good of his country ; and, in the hour of his country’s poverty, he refused personal emolument for his service. ITis faculties were so well balanced and com bined, that his constitution, free from excess, was tempered evenly with all the elements of activity, and his mind resembled a well ordered common wealth; his passions, which had the intensest vigor, owned allegianco to reason; and, with all the fiery quickness of his spirit, his impetuous and massive will was held in check by consum mate judgment. He had in his composition a calm which gave him, in moments of highest excitement, the power of self-control, and enabled him to excel in pa tience even when he had most cause for disgust. Washington was offered a command where there was little to bring out of the unorganized resour ces of the Continent but his own influence, and authority was connected with the people by the most frail, most attenuated, scarcely discernible threads; yet, vehement as was his nature, impas sioned as was his courage, he so restrained his ar dor that he never failed continuously to exert the attracting power of that influence, and never ex erted it so sharply as to break its force. EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. VOL XXIV. NUMBER 40 In secrecy he was unsurpassed ; but his secrecy had the character of prudent reserve, not of cun ning or concealment. His understanding was lucid, and his judgment accurate; so that his conduct never betrayed hur ry or confusion. No detail was too minute for his personal injury and complete supervision; and at the same time, he comprehended events in tlieir widest aspects and relations. He never seemed above the object which engaged his at tention, and lie was always equal, without an of* fort, to the solution of the highest questions, even when there existed no precedents to guide hie decision. In this A’ay, he never drew to himself admira? tion for the possession of any ono equally in ex cess; never made in council any one suggestion that was sublime but impracticable; never in ac tion took to himself the praise or the blame of undertakings astonishing in oonception, but be yond his means of execution. It was the most wonderful accomplishment of man that, placed upon the largest theatre of events, at the head of the greatest revolution in human affairs, he never failed to observe all that was possible, and at the same time to bound his aspirations by that which was possible. A slight tinge in his character, perceptible only to the close observer, revealed the region from which he sprung, and he might be described as the best specimen of manhood, as developed in the South ; but his qualities were so faultlessly pro portioned, that his whole country rather claimed him as its choicest representative, the most com plete expression of all its attainments and aspira tions. He studied his country, and conformed to it. His countrymen felt that he was the beat type of America, and rejoiced in it, and were proud of it. They lived in his life, and made his success and his praise their own. Profoundly impressed with confidence in God’s Providence, and exemplary in his respect for tho forms of public worship, no philosopher of the eighteenth century was more firm in the support of freedom of religious opinion; none more tol erant or more remote from bigotry ; but belief ia God, and trust in his overruling power, formed the essence of his character. Divine wisdom not only illumines the spirit, but it inspires the will. Washington was a man of action, and not of theory and words; his creed appears in his life, not in his professions, which burst from him very rarely, and only at those great moments of crisis in the fortunes of his country when earth and heaven seemed actually to meet, and his emo tions became too intense for suppression; but his whole being was one continued aet of faith ia the eternal, intelligent, moral order of the uni verse. Integrity was so completely the law of his nature, that a planet would sooner hare shot from its sphere than he have departed from his uprightness, which was so constant that it often seemed to be almost impersonal. They say of Giotto, that he introduced good ness into the art of painting; Washington carried it with him into the camp and the cabinet, and established anew criterion of human greatness. The purity of his will confirmed his fortitude, and, as he never faltered in his faith in virtue, he stood fast by that which lie knew to be just, free from illusions, never dejected by the apprehen sion of the difficulties and perils that went before him, and drawing the promise of success from the justice of his cause. Hence he was persever ing, leaving nothing unfinished; free from all taint of obstinacy in his firmness, seeking and gladiy receiving advice, but immovable in his de votedness to right. Os a “retiring modesty and habitual reserve,” his ambition was not more than the conscious ness of his power, and wa3 subordinate to his sense of duty ; he took the foremost place, for he knew, for inborn magnanimity, that it belonged to him, and dared not withhold the service re quired of him; so that, with all his humility, he was by necessity the first, though never for him self or for private ends. He loved fame, the ap proval of coming generations, the good opinion of his fellow-men of his own time, and he desired to make his conduct coincide with their wishes; but not fear of censure, nor the prospect of ap plause, could tempt him to swerve from rectitude; and the praise which he coveted was the sympa thy of that moral sentiment which exists in every human breast, and goes forth only to the welcome of virtue. There have been soldiers who have achieved mightier victories in the field, and made con quests more nearly corresponding to the bound lessness of selfish ambition ; statesmen who have been connected with more startling upheavals of society, but it is the greatness of Washington, that in public trusts he used power solely for the public good; that he was the life, and modera tor, e.nd stay of the most momentous revolution inhuman affairs; its moving impulse and its re straining power. Combining the centripetal and the centrifugal forces in their utmost strength and in perfect relations, with creative grandeur of instinct, he held ruin in check and renewed and perfected the institutions of his country. Finding the colonies disconnected and depend ent, lie left them such a united and well ordered commonwealth as no visionary had believed to be possible. So that it has been truly said, “He was as fortunate as great and good.” ABOUT GIRL’S NAMES. If you are a very precise man, and wish to be certain of what you get, never mary a girl named Ann ; for we have the authority of Lindley Mur ray and others, that “ an is an indefinite article.” If you would like to have a wife who is “one of a thousand,” you should marry an Emily or an Emma, for any printer can tell you that “ ema are counted’by thousands.” If you do not wish to have a bustling, fly-about wife, you should not marry one named Jenny; for every cotton spinner knows that jennies are al ways on the go. If you want to marry Belle, it is not necessary that you should be a sexton, just because you have to ring her at the altar. If you marry one named Margaret, you may fear for the manner that she will end her days ; for all the world knows that pegs were made for hanging. If you wish to succeed in life as a porter, you should marry Caroline, and treat her very kindly; for so long as you continue to do this, you will bo good to Carry. The most incessant writer in the world is ho who is always bound to Ad-a-line. You may adore your wife, but you will be sur passed in love when your wife is Dora. Many men of high moral principles, and who would not gamble for the world, still have not refused to take a Bet. No printer who expects to make anything off his brother typos by the game of “jeffing,” should marry a Mary; for the craft, generally, knows that a “melly” is ns ’mml,