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-jails y&asaßß. 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. It. J. iHAYM AUU, BOOK BIN PER, (Over the Southern Banner Office,) A THENS, GEOR GIA. ALBOA CHASE, 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 ! ATHENS, GEORGIA. FERRY & CO., —WHOLESALE A RETAIL DEALERS IN— Hats, Caps, Boots, Shoes, Trunks, &c. &c. Broad-.‘■Weet, Athena, Georgia. Augusta Business Directory. WM. 11. TUTT, —Wholesale and Retail Dealer in— 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.”