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SHEEP HUSBANDRY
Why is it that this most pleasant, prof
itable branch of agricultural industry, does
not receive more attention from our plan
ters ? It is true, that they raise nearly, if
not quite enough Wool for homcconsump
tion. That, however, requires but a limit
ed amount; and compared with their ca
pacity to increase it, one quite insignifi
cant. By a very small outlay of capital
and labor, the yield of Wool in this Dis
trict could be most materially increased, to
the very manifest individual advantage of
the producer and to the general benefit.
Did our farmers see fit to do so, they
could soon be large exporters of Wool, be
sides retaining an ample supply for domes
tic manufacture. No investment, that an
agriculturist in this country could make,
will repay a more liberal profit, Mian will
the money and labor expended on a flock
of Sheep. Gleaning a living from pastures
so scant, as to be useless for other kinds
of stock, they enable their owners to make
money, even from the turned-out old fields.
Requiring but little attention, and costing
originally but a trifle, their natural increase
will amply repay the expenses of raising
them. Thus, the snowy fleece they anu
ally a fiord, is yielded up to their owner,
free of all cost—a bonus, as it were, for his
kindness in supplying their wants. And
as most of the diseases to which Sheep are
liable arise from neglect, the greater the at
tention bestowed upon the flock, the larger
will be the profit to the owner.
As showing what may be done in the
way of making money by Sheep Husban
dry, we publish the following extract from
a letter written us on the subject by Col.
J. Washington Watts, of Spring Grove, in
this District:
“ I promised to give you the weight of
the fleeces of my Sheep. Having only
been experimenting, my flock is, as you
know, very small, consisting of but six
sheep—one old ewe, and two (year old)
lambs from ewes of unknown blood ; and
three blooded (a cross of the Merino and
Leicester) year olds, (an ewe and two
bucks.) 1 sheared from the old ewe, this
spring, four pounds and a half ; from her
two lambs, twelve and a half: from the
iv. o blooded bucks, thirteen pounds and a
half; and from the blooded ewe, eight
pounds and two ouuces; —making the
yield of Wool, from six Sheep, (five of
them only one year old,) Thirty-eight
Pounds and a Half of unwashed Wool, of
a very fair quality—besides, an increase of
seven lambs from the four ewes.
‘■The following fact may be of interest
to your readers, as i* very forcibly show-s
how Sheep are profitable :—I bought my
old ewe eighteen months ago. Last May,
she brought two fine ewe lambs, and I
sheared off of her three pounds and a half
of Wool. This spring, she again brought
two lambs, and yielded a fleece weighing
four pounds and a half. Her two year
olds brought three lambs, and sheared
twelve pounds and a half. Making an in
crease of seven Sheep, and a yield of
Twenty Pounds of good Wool, in eigh- j
teen months, from one ewe, and at a very t
small expense. —Laurensville Herald.
DEATH LOVE;
AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE Os BYRON.
It was getting towards midnight when a
party of young noblemen came out from (
one of the clubs of St James street. The |
servant of each as he stepped upon the |
pavement, threw up the wood apron of the
cabriolet, and sprang to the head of the
horse; but as to the destination of the equip
ages for the evening there seemed to be
some dissension among the noble masters.
Between the line of coroneted vehicles,
stood a hackney coach, and a person in an
attitude of expectancy, pressed as near the
cxhilerated group, as he could without im
mediate attention.
Which way ? said he xvhose vehicle
was nearest, standing with his foot on the
step.
All together, of course, said another.
“Let’s make a night of it.”
“l’ardon me,” said the clear sweet voice
of the last one from the club. “ I sececd
for one. Go your ways, gentlemen.”
“ But you shall leave me, and so you are
not foresworn, my friend. In plain
phrase, 1 wont go with you. And I don’t
know where l shall go; so spare your cu
riosity the trouble of asking. I have a
presentiment I am wanted—by devil or an
gel—
“l see a hand you cannot see.’’
“Avery pretty hand it is, I dare swear,”
said the former speaker, jumping into his
cab and starting oS with a spring of his
blood horse, followed by all ihe vehicles
at the door save one.
Byron stood looking after them a mo
ment, and then raised his hat and pressed
his hand hard on his forehead. The un
known who had been lurking near, seemed
willing to leave him fora moment to his
thoughts, or was embarrassed at approach
in :a stranger. As Byron turned with his
halting step to descend the steps, however
he came suddenly to his side.
“ My lord!” lie said, and was silent, as
if waiting for permission to go on
“Well,” replied Byron, turning to him
without the least surprise, and looking ,
closely into his face by the light of the j
street lamp.
“I come to you with an errand which
perhaps—”
“A strange one, I am sure; but I am
prepared for it—l have been forewarned of
it. What do you require of me ? for lam
ready.”
“This is strange!” exclaimed the man,
“Has another messenger—then—”
“None except a spirit —for my heart a
lone told me f should be wanted at this
hour. Speak at once.”
“My lord, a dying girl has sent for you.” i
“Do I know her?”
“She has never seen you. Will you
come at once —an l on the way I will ex
plain to you what 1 ran of this singular er
rand though, indeed, when it is told you,
you know all that I comprehend.”
They were at the door of the hackney
coach, and Byron entered it without fur
ther remarks. .
“ Back again !” said the stranger, as the
coachman closed the door, “ and drive sos
dear life, for we shall scarce be in time, I
fear.”
The heavy tongue of St. Paul’s Church
struck twelve, as the rolling vehicle hur
ried on through the now lonely street, and
though so far from the place from whence
they started, neither of the two occupants
had spoken. Byron sat with bare head and
| folded arms in the corner of the coach; and
the stranger, with his hat crowded over his
eyes seemed repressing some powerful
emotion ; and it was only when they stop
ped before a low door in the street close
upon the river that the latter found utter
ance.
“ !s she alive ?” he hurriedly asked of a
woman who came out at the sound of the
carriage wheels.
“ She was a moment since, but be quick.”
Byron followed quickly on the heels of
his conductor, and passing through a dim
ly lighted entry to the door of aback room,
they entered. A lamp shaded by a cur
tain of spotless purity, threw a faint light
upon a bed, upon which lay a girl, watched
by a physician and a nurse. The physi
cian had just removed a small mirror from
her lips, and holding it to the light, he
whispered that she still breathed. As By
ron passed the edge of the curtain, howev
er, the dying girl moved the fingers of the
hand lying on the coverlet, and slowly
opened on him her languid eyes, eyes of
inexpressible depth and lustre. No one
had speken.
“ Here he is,” she murmured. “Raise
me, mother, while I have time to speak to
him.”
Byron looked round the small chamber,
trying in vain to break the spell of awe which
the scene threw over him. An apparition
from the other world could not have check
ed more fearfully and completely the
worldly and scornful under-current of his
nature. He stood with his heart beating
almost audibly, and his knees trembled be
neath hitn, awaiting wltni be prophetically
felt to be a warning from the very gate of
heaven.
Propped with pillows, and left by her
attendants, the dying girl turned her head
towards the proud, the noble poet standing
by her bedside, and a slight blush over
spread her features, while a smile of angel
ic beauty stole through her lips. In that
smile the face reawakened to its former
loveliness, and seldom had he who now ga
zed breathlessly upon her, looked on such
spiritual and incomparable beauty. The
spacious forehead and noble contour, still
visable, of the emaciated lips, bespoke-gen
ius impressed upon a tablet all feminine in
its language; and in motion of her hand,
and even the slight motion of her graceful
neck there was something that still breath
ed of surpassing elegance. It was the
shadowy wreck of no ordinary mortal, pas
sing away—humble as were the surround
ings, and strange as had been his summons
to her bedside.
“ And this is Byron !” she said at last,
in a voice bewildenngly sweet even
through its weakness. “My Lord ! 1
could not die without seeing you —without
relieving my soul of a mission with which
it has long been burthened. Come nearer
for I have no time left for ceremony, and
I must say what I have to say, and die !
“Beautiful,” she said, “beautiful as the
dream of him which has so long haunted
me! the intellect and the person of a spirit
of light! Pardon me, my lord, that, at a mo
ment so important to myself, the remem
brance of an earthly feeling has been betray
ed into expression.”
She paused a moment, and the bright
color that had shot through her cheek and
brow faded, and her countenance resumed
its heavenly serenity.
“ I am near enough to death,” she retjum
ed, “ near enough to point you almost to
heaven from where I am; and it is on my
i heart like the one errand of my life—like
! the bidding of God—to implore you to pre
i pare for judgement. Oh, my Lord ! with
j your glorious powers, with your wondrous
gifts, be not lost! Do not for the poor
pleasures of a world like this, lose an eter
! nity in which your great mind will outstrip
| the intelligence of angels. Measure this
thought—scan the worth of angellic bliss
with the intellect which has ranged so glo
riously through the universe; do noton
this one momentous subject of human inter
est —on this alone be not short sighted !”
“ What shall I do V’ suddenly burst
from Byron's lips in a tone ofagony. But
with an effort as if struggling with a death
pang, he again drew up his form and re
sumed ihe marble calmness of his counte
nance.
The dying girl, meantime, seemed to
have lost herself in prayer. With her
wasted hands clasped on her bosom, and
her eyes turned upward, the slight motion
of her lips betrayed to those around her
that she was pleading at the throne of
mercy. The physician crept close to her
113 iiDBQ®© 5 Will it ©l3! ilia
bedside but with his hand on his breast,
and his head bowed, he seemed but watch
ing for the moment when the soul should
take its flight.
She suddenly raised herse'f on the pil
low. Her long brown tresses fell over her
shoulder, and a brightness almost unnatu
ral kindled in her eyes. She seemed endeavo
ring to speak, and gazed steadily at Byron. |
Slowly, then, and tranquilly she sank back
again upon her pillow, and her eyelids
dropped; she murmured, Come to Heaven'.'<
and the stillness of death was in the room.
The spirit hail fled.
PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
We then tried, one evening, to read them
Paid and Virginia. It was I who read,
; translating as I went, because I was so ac
- customed to its perusal, that I knew it as
jit were by heart. Familiarized, byalong
jer sojourn in Italy, with the language, I
| had no difficulty in expressions,
j and the words flowed from my lips as if it
were my vernacular tongue. Scarcely had
I commenced the perusal of it, when the
countenances of my little auditory changed,
and assumed an expression of attention and
of reflection, a certain indication of emo
tion of heart. We had struck the note
which vibrates in unison in the hearts of
all men, of ail ages, and of all conditions -
that sensitive, that universal note, which
combines in a single sound the eternal
truth of real art —nature, love, and God.
I had read only a few pages, when al
ready the old man, the young girl, the chil
dren—all had changed their attitudes.—
The fisherman, his elbow upon his knee,
and his ear inclined to one side, forgot to
inhale the smoke from his pipe. The old
grandmother, seated opposite to me, held
her two hands clasped beneath her chin, in
the attitude of the poor women who hear
the word of God, seated on the pavement of
the temples. Beppo had descended from
the terrace, where he had previously been
seated. He had placed his guitar noise
lessly upon the floor, and stretched his
hand across the strings, lest the wind should
make its chords resound. Graziella, who
was usually seated a little apart, uncon
sciously approached me, as if she had been
fascinated by some power of attraction,
which was concealed in the book.
Leaning against the wall of the terrace,
at the foot of which 1 was myself reclining,
she approached nearer and nearer toward
my side, supported on her left hand in the
attitude of the dying gladiator. She gazed
with dilated eyes, sometimes at the book,
sometimes at my lips, from which the nar
rative flowed ; sometimes at the space be
tween my lips and the book, as if she en
deavored to discover the unseen spirit
which interpreted it to me. I heard her
unequal breathings, sometimes suspended,
sometimes quickened, following the palpi
tations of the drama, like the heaving chest
of one who ascends a mountain, and who
stops from time to time to recover breath.
Before 1 had reached the middle of the nar
rative, the poor child had forgotten the
rather timid reserve which she usually dis
played toward me. I felt the warmth of
her respiration on my hands. Her hair
floated over my forehead. Two or three
burning tears tell.from her cheeks, and
stained the pages close to my fingers.
Except the slow and monotonous tones
of my voice, which translated literally to
these fishermen of the sea this poem of the
heart, no sound was heard but the distant
and hollow dash of the sea, which broke
upon the shore below our feet. Even this
noise was in harmony with the story. It
was like the presentiment of the tragic end
ing of the tale, which muttered beforehand
in the air, at the commencement, and du
ring the progress of the narrative. The
more the story unfolded itself, the more it
seemed to delight our simple auditors.
When I chanced to hesitate for a proper
expression to render the French word, Gra
ziella, who for some time had been holding
the lamp sheltered from the wind by her
apron, approached it close to the pages,
and almost burned the book in her impa
tience. as if the flame could render the sense
visible to my eyes, and make the words
flow more quickly from my lips. I smi
lingly pushed back the lamp with my hand,
without turning my eyes from the page,
and I felt my fingers warm with her tears.
When I had arrived at the place where
Virginia, summoned back by her aunt to
France, feels her whole being, as it were,
torn asunder, and endeavors to console
Paul beneath the banana-trees, by speaking
to him of her return, and pointing out to
him the sea which was to carry her away,
1 closed the book, and I put off the remain
der till the following day.
It was a severe blow to the hearts of
these poor people. Graziella threw her
self on her knees before me, and then be
fore my friend after me, beseeching us to
finish the story. But it was in vain. We
wished to prolong the interest for her, and
the charm of the experiment for ourselves.
She then snatched the book from my hands.
She opened it, as if by the force of her will
she could comprehend the characters.—
She spoke to it, she embraced it, and then
placed it back respectfully upon my knees,
clasping her hands and gazing at me with
a suppliant look.
Her countenance in moments of calm
ness so serene and smiling, but at the same
time a little austere, had caught suddenly
from the passion and the sympathetic ten
derness of the narrative, something of the
animation, the disorder, and tne pathos of
the drama. One would have said that a
sudden revolution had changed this lovely
marble into flesh and tears. The young
girl felt her heart, till then dormant, reveal
ed to her, as it were, in the soul of Virgin
ia. She seemed to have grown six years
older in that half hour. The storms of pas
sion had marbled her forehead, the azure
while of her eyes, and her cheeks. She
resembled a calm and sheltered lake, on
which the sunshine, the wind, and the
shade were struggling together for the first
time. We would never have tired looking
at her in this attitude. She, who until
that time had only inspired us with feelings
of gayety, now inspired us almost with res
pect. Eut it was in vain that she implored
us to proceed. We did not wish to exhaust
our power on a single occasion, and her
lovely tears were too captivating, for us to
dry up tleir source in a day. She retired
innpoutng mood, and pettishly extinguish
! cd the lanp.
The following morning when I saw her
’ again beneath ‘.he trellis and attempted to
! speak to ler, she turned away from me
’ like one who wishes to conceal her tears,
and refused to answer me. It was appa
rent from her eyes, bordered by a light cir
j cle of black, from the deeper paleness of
1 her cheeks,and from a slight and graceful de
pression of the corners of her mouth, that
she had not slept, and that her heart was
j still full of the imaginary sorrows of the
: evening before. Wonderful potency of a
book, which acts upon the mind of an il
literate child, and those of an ignorant fam
ily, w’ith all the force of reality, and the
perusal of which is an era in the life of
the heart!
The reason of this is, that as I transla
ted the poem, the poem had traslated na
ture, and that these simple incidents, the
cradle of these two children reposing at the
feet of their two mothers, their innocent
loves, their cruel, separation, this return
disappointed by death, this shipwreck and
these two tombs, inclosing only one heart,
beneath the banana-trees, are things which
all the world feels and understands, from
the palace even to the cabin of the fisher
man. Poets seek for genius afar off, while
it is in the heart, and while a few notes,
very simple and touched with a pious hand,
and by chance, upon that instrument fash
ioned by God himself, are sufficient to draw
tears from a wholegeneration,andto become
as popular as love itself, and as sympathet
ic as feeling. The sublime wearies, the
beautiful deceives, the pathetic alone is the
infallible in art. He wdto knows how to
melt the heart, knows all. There is more
of genius in one tear than in all the muse
ums, and in all the libraries of the universe.
Man is like a tree which isshakento make
it yield its fruits ; he is never moved that
tears do not fall.
During the entire day, the household was
as melancholy as if some misfortune had
befallen this humble family. The mem
bers of it met together to take their repast,
almost in silence. Then they separated.
They met again without a smile. It was
apparent that Graziella’s heart was not in
her daily avocations in the garden or on
the house-top. She gazed frequently at
the setting sun, and of that day it was ev
ident she would relish only the evening.
When the evening had come on, we re
sumed our usual place upon the astrico, I
opened the book once more, and finished
the perusal of it in the midst of sobs and
tears. Father, mother, child, my friend,
and myself—all participated in the general
emotion. The grave and somber sound of
my voice assumed unconsciouly the mel
ancholy tone of the incidents and the grav
ity of the words. It seemed, at the close
of the narrative, to sound from a distance,
and to fall from a height upon the soul,
like the hollow tones from a vacant breast,
in which a heart no longer beats, and
which is tied down to the things of earth
only by melancholy, by religion, and by
memory.
It was impossible for us to utter unmean
ing words after this story. Graziella re
mained motionless and without a ges
ture, in the attitude she had assumed while
listening, and seemed to listen still. The
silence, that applause always accorded to
true and durable impressions, was not bro
ken by any one. Each respected in the
others the thoughts which he felt within
himself. The lamp, almost expiring, was
extinguished insensibly, without any one of
us making an attempt to rekindle it. The
family rose and retired softly. We renkllP
ed alone, my friend and I, astonished at
the all-powerful effect of truth, of simplic
ity, and of feeling, upon all men, upon all
ages, and upon all countries. —Lamartine
—Les Confidences.
THE ROMANCE OF THE GOLD
FEVER.
The New York Evening Post, among
other touching incidents, relates the fol
lowing as having occurred on the departure
from that city, of the Peytona for Califor
nia :
As usual, a large crowd had gathered on
the pier, including several females, to bid a
last adieu to relatives, friends and lovers.
One girl who had probably seen seventeen
summers, particularly attracted our atten
tion. She was a beautiful blonde, clothed
in a plain, though neat, dress—with re
| markably rosy cheeks—a lip the bees
might swoon on, and soft dark eyes, now a
j little dimmed by the gathering moisture of
sadness. While others were hurrying to
and fro, she stood on the edge of the pier,
gazing earnestly at the vessel, now loos
ing from her moorings. Her eyes were fix
ed on a handsome young man leaning on
the taffrail, rigged out in Californian dress,
who was not less intently watching the ;
girl he was leaving.
Just as the vessel began to move in the j
water, and recede from the wharf, the tears
unbidden started from their repose, tears in |
whose dumb grief there was a powerful
eloquence, filled her large melting eyes,
and stretching out her hands to him, in a
most thrilling plaintive whisper, she said,
’ ‘Charley aint you sotry now ?” The col
or flew from Charley's cheek, his pale lip
quivered a moment, and then he turned,
without speaking, to hide himself and his
teats in the cabin, and we turned away,
thinking that the young man perchance
was leaving behind him in lhat fond and
loving heart a treasure of more worth than
all the wealth of California, and thinking
too, were we of these lines :
“ When eyes ore beaming,
Wbat never tongue may tell 1
When tears ait: streaming
From their crystal well,
When hands are linked that dread to part
And heart is met by throbbing heart —
Oh! bitter, bitter is the smart
Os them that bid farewell.”
THE FABLED UP A3 THEE.
What passes with most as a fable, is af
ter all a reality. Brooke’s Journals of a
residence in Borneo are entitled to all cred
it, for their author ranks already as one of
the most remarkable men of the age—hav
ing, by his individual enterprises put in
train a series of events resulting in the con
quest and the probable civilization of the
savages of that Island.
While making geological examinations
in search of coal, he, with his friends, dis
covered an isolated upas tress, nearly for
ty feet high. Its trunk was almost straight,
its bark smooth and of a red tan color, and
its head a dense mass of datk green glossy
foilage. The ground beneath its shade is
crowded with tombs, yet vegetation flour
ishes luxuriantly round its roots.
In tapping it, no bad effects were expe
rienced from the effluvia. But on cutting
it toqbtain a portion ot the wood, hark, and
juice, a man was so much stupified that he
was obliged to desist. It is ascertained that
the bread fruit tree, the mulberry, and the
cow tree of South America, belong to the
same natural order as the deadly Upas
N. E. Puritan.
52 an, A MSB,
pH
Privateering. —A gentleman in
a tea party, overhearing one lady say to
another, “I have something for your pri
vate ear,” immediately exclaimed, “I pro
test against that, for there is a law against
prroat-eering.”
Good Rule.— The Editor of the
Prairie Farmer says he was taught when a
boy to refrain from grumbling at two
things. The one is that which he cannot
help—and the other, that which he can
help.
Rei.igio Medici.- -At a parish ex
amination, a clergyman asks a charity boy
if he had ever been baptized. “No, sir,”
is the reply, “not as I knows of; but I’ve
been waxinated.”
t!£xp’ Inutility of an Emetic. —“My
dear doctor,” said Sir Erin Gobragh, “ it’s
of no use your giving me an emetic; 1
tried it twice in Dublin, and it wouldn’t
stay on my stomach five minutes.”
J6@“ That inimitable wit, Col. Wallace
of the Sun , says : Now we may set it down
as an axiom, that young ladies cannot
know every body’s name, when it is ut
terly impossible for them to know what
their own may be a twelvemonth after
wards!
Wm. E. MorforJ has written a let
’ ter from San Francisco, in which he
says :
“I have acquired considerable Spanish,
fop I can assure you that when your sub
sistence depends upon your speaking that
language, you will soon jumble togethei
enough to indicate what you want. 1 have
found that a Spanish girl is the best gram
mar in the world ; and since my arrival in
town, I bave been —studying grammar.”
Sliiocrttscmcnts.
BOSS iv RIVERS,
YTTILL practice their profession in this and
! YY the adjoining counties. ***Office at Ath
| cus under the Newton House, and at Oxford,Ga.
Athens, May. 1849. 3—lv
PROSPECTUS
—OF
THE SCHOOLFELLOW:
| A MAGAZINE FOR GIRLS AND BOYS.
! ISSUED IN MONTHLY NUMBERS OK 32 PAGES,
i ILLITSTARTED WITH ENGRAVINGS, AT THE
I LOW PRICE OF
$ I per annum—ln advance !
; rjiHE Publisher of Richards’ Weekly Gazette
X announces that he issued the first number of
j the above work last January, with a view of atfor
j ding to the Boys and Girls of the South a journal
i of their own, in which instruction and amusement
j shall be happily blended.
The Schoolfellow contains articles, both origi
! nnl and selected, from many pens that have writ- j
i ten charmingly for the young. We will mention I
! the*names of Alary llowitt, Miss Sedgwick, Pe- j
ter Parley, Miss Mclntoslw Mrs Gilman, Mrs.
| Joseph C. Neal, Mary E. Lee, Miss Barber, and
many others might be added. Many of the art
icles in The Schoolfellow are beautifully illustrat
ed. and the twelve numbers of one year m ike two
volumes of nearly 400 pages and one hundred en
gravings, of which, every boy -and girl who may
own it may be proud.
Terms. —1 Each number contains 32 pages,
and at least 8 engravings, and is issued on the
first of every month. 2. The subscription price
is One Dollar a-year, in advance. To Clubs: 5
copies to one address. $4 : 10 do , $8 ; 20 do sls.
s3* There are many schools in which at least
twenty copies may be taken, ns the price to each
one will bo only seventy-five eeuts.
Communication must be post-paid and addres
sed to The Schoolfellow, Athens. Ga.
OO Editors, exchanging with 4 * Richards’ Ga
zette,*’ who will copy or notice fully this Pros
pectues, shall receive The Sehoolfellotc without
urthcr exchange.
3tl)cns Business Pimtorj).
WM. N . WHITE,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL BOOK-SELLER,
—AXD DEALER IN —
Stationery, Music and Musical Instruments,
Lamps. Cutlery, Fancy Goods, frc.fyc.
Orders fille-dt tho Augusta rates!
College Avenue, Allien*, Ga.
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BOOK BIN PER,
(Over the Southern Banner Office,)
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WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
Books, Stationery, Fancy Goods,
Perfumery, Paper Hangings, tfc.,
Opposite College Campus, and under the Banner Office,
Orders filled at the Augusta Prices !
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FERRY & CO.,
—WHOLESALE A RETAIL DEALERS IN—
Hats, Caps, Boots, Shoes, Trunks, &c. &c.
Broad-.‘■Weet, Athena, Georgia.
Augusta Business Directory.
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i Drugs, Medicines, Paints, Oils, Dye-Stuff’s,
CHEMICALS, &.C., Bcc.,
AUGUSTA. GEORGIA.
JAMES A. GRAY,
Dealer in cheap Fancy if Staple Dry Goods,
No. 298 Broad Street, Augusta, Ga.
CRESS A HICKMAN,
DEALERS IN
I STAPLE & FANCY DRY GOODS,
268 South side BROAD STREET, Augusta. C.a.
SCRANTON & STARK,
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA,
WHOLESALE GROCERS,
Also, dealers in Bagging, Rone and Twine ; Nails,
Iron, Salt, 4c., for Planters’ trade.
! PHILEMON A. SCRANTON, WILLIAM H. STARK.
D.B.PLIMBACO.,
! Between U. S. Hotel and P. O. Corner—Augusta, Ga.,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in—
Drugs, Medicines, Chemicals, Paints, &c.
pyAgent for Landretli’s Garden Seeds!
ALBERT HATCH,
—Manufacturer of and Dealer in—
I Saddles. Bridles, Harness, Trunks,
Military, Equipments, ifc. ifc. Sfc.
Bioad-Street, in Metcalf's New Range, Augusta.
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
AUGUSTA, GA BY G. FARGO.
Tbijahouse it iu the ceutre of b t.-ine.-.-.
CHARLES CATI,IN,
—Dealer in—
Fine Hatches, Jewelry,
Silver Spoons and Porks, Plated Castors,
LAMPS, GIRANDOLES, FANCY GOODS, 4c.
Also— Atrents for Chickering’* and Nunns At Clarke’s
PIANO-FORTES, which they sell at the lowest fac
tory prices. AUGUSTA, GEO.
Cljarlcston Business Directory.
HARMONIC INSTITUTE.
FERDINAND ZOGBAUM,
IMPORTER OF
MUSIC AND MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS,
King-Street, sign of the Lyre, Charleston, S. C.
Also—Charles Zckji aim, Athens. Ga.
WELCH A IIOVOI K.
BOOK BINDERS,
Corner of Meeting 4 Horlbeck’s Alley, Charleston.
l riP Blank Books ruled to any pattern, and bound in
! the best manner.
s k. u k'.i ii, w i: honour.
McCARTER &. ALLEN,
BOOKSELLERS & STATIONERS,
Charleston. South Carolina
Have an extensive assortment of Law, Medical, Tlie-
I olotrical, School and Miscellaneous Books, which
j will be sold at the lowest rates!
PAVILION HOTEL.
BY H . L. BUTTERFIELD,
[Formerly of thr Charleston Hotel,]
CHARLESTON, S. G.
GILLILANDS & HOWELL,
Importers and Dealers iu
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods,
No. 7 Hayne-Street, Charleston, S. C.
GROCERIES, FRUITS, CIGARS , sc.
X. M. rORTER, (lute W. L. Porter & Son,)
No. 222 King-Street, third above Market,
; Have an extensive and varied Stock of Groceries,
’ Fruits, Cigars, Arc., suited to the wants of Families and
| Dealers, which lie sells for the lowest prices for cash
or city paper. 150 bis Refined Sugar at Factory prices.
GEORGE OATES,
231 4 236 King-Street, [near the Bend,] Charleston,
GEORGE A. OATES & CO.,
Broad-Street, Augusta, Ga.
Dealers in Piano-Fortes, Music anil Musi
cal Instruments. Books. Stationery, frr.
11. STODDARD,
Wholesale Dealer in BUOTS, SHOES, &c..
No. 13 Hayne-Street, Charleston, S. C.
CHARLESTON HOTEL,
BY D. MIXER, CHARLESTON, S.C.
*** This establishment has been entirely remodelled
and refitted in the most elegant manner.
joiix s. itim> a co.,
Military, Looking-Glass and Fancy Store,
Sign of the Gold Spectacles, 223 & 225 King-Street,
Charleston, S. C.
Mathematical and Surveyors’ Instruments; Spectacles
and Optical Instruments, of till kinds; Plated Cast
ors, Candlesticks. Cake Baskets, 4c., 4c.
Oil Paintings and Engravings; Picture Fram.es made
j to order, and old Frames, re-gilt and made equal to
J new ; Glasses and Pebbles fitted to Spectacles to gmt
all ages and sight*.
JOHN S. EIRD, J. M. TAYLOR, C.H.BIRD.
JOSEPH WALKER,
—DEALER IN —
Paper, Stationery & Account Books.
Book Binding and. Job Print
Also, Agent for the sale of T- Pre6Be3l Pri-';..
Materials o Kinds, at Ncw-Tork price ,
expenses onlv ueC |.
Constny/dy on f mn *i a larire stock of Typf, Borders,
Brass Hulk, Leads, &.C.; also, Printing Paper and
Printing Ink.
H. B. CLARKE k CO.,
—IMPORTERS AND DEALERS I N—
CLOTHS, CASSIMERES, VESTINGS ,
TAILORS’ TRIMMINGS. &e ,
No. 205 King-street, CHARLESTON, S. C.
WM. L. TIMMONS,
General Importer of Hardware & Cutlery,
East Bay,....Charleston, S. C.
CAMPHENE and SPIRIT GAS,
—WHOLESALE AND RETAIL. —
With a large variety of Lamps for burning the same,
at the original Importers’ prices.
GEORGE ABBOTT,
Paint , Oil , and Colour Store,
No. 97 East Bay, # Charleston, S. C.
RAM I N k NISSEN,
Chemists, Apothecaries & Druggists,
Charleston Neck,, S. C. and Atlanta, Ga.
The best Drug's, Chemicals, Perfumery and Patent
j Medicines, kept constantly on hand ana at the very
l lowest prices. us 4
■
House and Land for sale.
rp HE SUBSCRIBER, having removed from
1 the place, offers for sale his House and Land
in the town of Athens. The land comprises 298
acres, of which a large portion is well-wooded,
and the rest in good arable condition. The prop
erty is situated in the upper portion of the town.
The dwelling is handsome and convenient, —the
all new, and the whole in perfect re
pair. [CF* There is an excellent spring near the
dwelling, and also a fine well of water.
If desirable, ho will sell the dwelling with only
eight or ten acres of land.
For terms of sale, apply to
ANDREW BAXTER,
or, in his absence, to Wm. M. Morton, Esq., or
to I’rof. C. F. McGav.
Athens, May 12, 1819. 2tf
GAZETTE
JOB PRINTING
ESTABLISjecnXJBOXUr.
Pamphlets, Circulars,
Show-bills,
I Programmes,
Bill heads, biw Leg. Blanks,
Bk. Checks,
NEATLY AND EXPEDITIOUSLY EXECUTED
JL4 ttMa (Di®Oo
GOULD, KENDALL & LINCOLN,
BOOKSELLERS AND ITBLIXIIER ,
No. 59 Washington St., Boston.
“MWfOI HOHJS3E,
ATHENS, GA. fUHRUBTL.r. THOMAS.-
TMIE Subscriber, ns proprietor of this new ami
well-furnished Hotel, expects, (from long exper
ience, a disposition to please, und attention to bush’
ness,) to make it just such an Establishment as the
public Wants. LOVIC P. THOMAS.
January fi, 1849. frvl 1-ly
KTDBW BOOK BTOKEI
On Cotton Avenue, Macon , Geo.
; r *MIE undersigned have opened, as above, an*
X establishment for the sale of
Books, Stationery and Fancy Goods ,
and will keep on hand a full assortment of
C3T School and Miscellaneous Books,
together with plain and fancy Stationery. Music,-
for the Piano Forte, &c. All of which they Wilt*
sell Wholesale or Retail, at the lowest market
prices.
Orders for Law, Medical and Theolog
ical Books, respectfully solicited
J. J. & S. P. RICHARDS.
Macon, Nov. 4. 1848.
JAMES M’PHEKSON A < 0.,
DEALERS IN
HOOKS, STATIONERY, MUSIC,
Musical Instruments. Fancy Goods,
Paper-Hangings, Maps, fyc.,
ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
PROSPECTUS
OF—
H. X C NX A XL JO 8 ’
WEEKLY GAZETTE.
BEING anew and much enlarged series of the
“Southern Literary Gazette,” —the only
weekly Journal, South of the Potomac, devoted
to Literature and the Arts in general— and de
signed for the Family Circle.
The Proprietor begs leave to announce that,
on Saturday, the s:h of May, he issued the first
number, for the second year, of this popular and
well established paper,—the name and form of
which he has changed, to enlarge the s. ope of its
observation, and to otherwise increase its attrac
tions.
Less exclusively devoted, than heretofore, to
Literature , the Arts , and Sciences ,
it will be the aim of its Proprietor to make it,
in every respect,
A CHOICE FAMILY NEWSPAPER,
“as cheap as the cheapest, and as good as the
best!” Utterly discarding the notion that a
Southern journal cannot compete with the North
ern weeklies, in cheapness and interest,
RICHARDS’ WEEKLY GAZETTE
shall be equal, in mechanical execution, to any
of them, and, in the variety, freshness and value
of its contents, second to none. Its field will be
the world, and it will contain, in its ample folds
Every Species of Popular Information,
Especial attention will be [aid to the subject of
SCHOLASTIC AND DOMESTIC EDUCATION.
Numerous articles, original and selected, from
the best sources, wi'l be published weekly, on
• AGRICULTURE AND HORTICULTURE,
and t hose departments, as, indeed, all others, will
be frequently
Illustrated with Wood Cuts!
Every number will contain careful and copious
summaries of the latest
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC NEWS/
in Commercial, Civil, Political, and Ecclesiasti
cal Affairs. At the same time, there shall be
nothing in its columns that can be considered ei
ther Bartizan or Sectarian.
The following distinguished writers will con
tribute to the Journal:
Wm. Gilmore Simms , LL. /).,
Mon. Robert M. Charlton ,
J. M. Legarc,
T. Addison Richards, Esq.,
Charles I Amman , Esq. ,
Hon. B. F. Porter,
Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz,
Airs. Joseph C. -Neal,
Airs. E. F El left ,
Aliss Alary E. Lee,
Caroline Howard ,
Airs. C. IV. Dußose,
Aliss C. JV. Barber,
besides many others, whose names are highly
es: earned in the “ World of Letters.”
TERMS:
Single copies, a-yeur, $2 00, strictly in advance.
* C L ÜBS:
Os three supplied for ------ 00
Ot live for - - -- - - 8 0(1
Os ten for ----------- 15 00
Os fifteen for ---------- 20 00
Os twenty for ------- -- - 25 00
Os fifty for ------ (jo (X)
All orders must be accompanied with the
cash, aud should be addressed, i ot-paid, to
WM. C. RICHARDS,
Athens, Ga.
N. B. —Editors who will copy, or notice fully,
this Prospectus, shall receive the Gazette regu
lar! v. and also a beautiful Juvenile Magaziue,
entitled “The gfhoollellow.”
May 3d, 1849. ltf
IXMI ii.WTE COMPANY.
VvM. M. MORTON, AG’T AT ATHENS.
npHIS Company is now firmly established, and
X doing an extensive business. Risks will bo
taken not only in towns, but in the country, on
Dwellings, Gin-Houses, Mills aud Factories.
The following parties are ~ 10 „g “toCk
holcters of the Company at this A.
j i:ull,T.Br 1 ,i' jrd) Wnf V. ( l.iv ton,
- ‘ I ' ,nt .i, Albon Chase, Dr. H. Hull, Henry
Hull, Jr., E. L. Newton, l)r. E. R. M arc, F.
Lucas, S. J. Mays, Y. L. G. Harris, C. B. Lvfe>
A. J. Brady, George Pringle, M. E. McWhor
ter, D. Holmes, Rev. Dr. Hoyt, L. J Lnmpkin,-
Rev. S. Landrum, J. J. Huggins, W. Fay non,*
F. R. R. Cobb, Dr. C.M. Reese, Green B. IJay
u'ood, \V in. C. R khards * & Cos., and Win. M
Morton.
Parties, desiring to effect insurance on their
property in this vicinity, will make application
to the subscriber. WM. M. MOIITON.
Athens. Nov 25th. 1848 29qs
ff ivTiTcX new supply of Populat
Krfnrr H Music b.as just been rc-
ILmvKRSITY bookstore.
April 14. 48
Hooks, Stationery and Music.
Tames McPherson & co., beg leave tc
inform their friends and the public that they
have greatly increased their suj plies of
SCHOOL ANI) MISCELLANEOUS
prrrvTiTfc ■'< Ttnurtai .-rvrrnt
and nro daily receiving, direct from New York
and Philadelphia, choice works in everv depart
ment of Literature and the Arts, together with
PLAIN AND FANCY STATIONARY,
of every description, both American and Foreign.
They have also a fine supply of
CENTRE, SIDE AM) SUSPENSION SOLAR LAMPS,
made by Cornelius & Cos., the best in the world.
Atlanta, Ga., Feb 10, 1848. o.s.
MAGIC ~£ AST TE 3UL 3XT!
Fill! sale, et the University Bookstore, a good
M A GrC L A N T E U N, with appropriatsF
Lamp and Sliders, which will he sold cheap
WM. N. WHITE.
April 22 43_
ONE SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARY of IOC
volumes, —No 2 of the A. S. S Union, —
is for sale by WM. N. WHITE. Cash price',.
$10,50
AGENTS WANTED-To circulate “ R trn
ards’ Wekki.y Gazettr” and also “ The-
Schooi.fei.low.”