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ft ' $i 25 X *i j ' ’.fipr^VANCE. if if-' .* ■lTlines or leas.) ?1 on for the f*>«* each subsequent insertion ns follows : - 12 Months JJ...: ~ $25 do" sls Do j •"’> 40 00 75 00 100 00 m... 50 00 90 Ou 150 00 of Commerce.] ■The Spring of Nature. M HB»se the volume, wearily, K)f prophet and of seer, utter all ir.y doubts aud dream* In Nature’s listening car. She hears my spirit’s Vjtnost sigh— s With sympathy divine Her myriad treasures she enfolds 'And makes their promise mine. The waves flow ever to the sea, A nobler path to And ; The forests all their toary brows With fresher garlands bind, -Aid smiling in the summer sun, Or beckoning in the stars, The wide blue sky of freedom tells -Beyond earth’s prison bars. The diamond, monarch of the gems, Shines with interior light, ■As if a spirit flashed within, Half visible to sight. And on the ever-silent hills, The watch-towers of the land. The very silence seems to speak A Presence —calm and grand. The violet breathes her incen.se forth Upon the summer field# ; The lily to the wooing wave Her soul of fragrance yields. Os beauty and of love they tell, These flowers that God has given, lily angels gathered as they fade, To deck the courts of Heaven. The rose may die—it lives ‘agaiti In Celling bud and flower; The day departs, but still returns lleveal the lesson of the World, Renewal—not decay. With morning’s gilded hour. All voices of the watchful night, All glorious of the day, Ol life and not of death they sing— Os hope In every change. A glorious record flashes out Through nil creation's range-; ■And as I listen, as I read The mystic volume o’er, My soul re-echoes Nature's voice, ••Mife—hope for evermore 1" F. L. M. -'Bangor,'Me. January 'IB7O Simple Story. ‘Whirr ! Whirr P and ’the Sparks 'flew off the grindstone from tiie scissors held against it. The man who was 'grinding stopped a minute, felt the edge of the scissors w ith his thumb, tighten ed the rivet, and handed it to the ser vant who stood w aiting for it. ‘Three pence, miss.; thank .'you:*’ and 'he prepared to move on. Will voti <*-et 'in, Kitty ?” ‘No, grandpa ; me not'tired, 1 said a long haired, blue eyed child of about hive years old, who toddled alongside.— She was very poorly dressed, but per fectly clean ; her hair was smooth and .glossy, and her face had a look of con tentment and trust-.; not a -very -pretty child at first sight, ’but 'evidently a docile little creature. All day the man wheo'ed his grind stone from street to street, with the x-hild sometimes aSvttke, trotting along side and prattling gaily, -sotne times sit ting or lying in her little cradle. When the darkness came on, he turn ed from the Crowded streets, and ccits ed his monotonous cfy. He was'fcvident ly upon his way homeward. West ward he went, up Oxford street, and 'along the Edgcwater road, and through a side street to a small archway. Up this he drove his grinding raachlne into n small yard ; there, under a cover of a shed, he stowed away his barrow, and lifting the sleeping child out of the Tough cradle, ho carried her tenderly up stairs to a room at the top of the house-; then, laying her down on the bed, he (proceeded to strike a light. Leaving the candle burning., he went downstairs again and out into the crowded road.— There he bought some hot potatoes from an itinerant vendor, some bread and some butter, and a pint of tea at a •coffee shop. This last he put into a tin he had brought with him, and then Went back again to his room. Kitty climbed up on her grandfath er's knee, and ate her supper contented ly, prattling meantime about a thousand things. Then she ■said, ‘‘l have not filled your pipe, grandpa ;’ and going to a corner, fetched a long pipe, and filled it with tobacco from a pouch the old man h&ided her, watched until be had lit it, ana then held up her face to be kissed. wxwr you are cumfle,’ sbe said, ‘Kitty Vll go to bpd and watch .you.’ It she watched. In a c*w minu*esfhe long fringe drooped )ver the eyes, and the child was asleep. Either the pipe did not draw well, or the smoker was more thoughtful than ■usual; lor several times be relighted it, “each time m a -mechanical way as if he 'wore thwk'mg deeply. He was a man ol perhaps fifty years old ; his hairwas Very gray, but he had an upright ear riage, and something of the air of an old soldier. HiT eye was bright and clear— ft kind and honest, and yet a shrewd eye. ’lt fa time to try,’ he said at last to himself; ‘I have put it off long enough. She can never be more winning than she ja jaow, If he does not take to her now, jho never will. Poor little pet—poor lit tle pet! I shall miss her sadly.’ And his firmly-cut lip quivered at the thought. 'Yes, J will start to-morrow., ’ he said at Jast. ‘lf it is to bo done, it had better be done at once.’ The next morning a little bundle was •impended under the barrow, and with this slight preparation the pair of friecds were ready to start upon the journey ; Killy in the highest glee at the thought of seeing pigs and sheep, ami cocks and hens, and geese, and l»*ny other things. Jt was a long journsy, and they did Bprnm'ry, but went quietly ong, stop ping at the various village and small towns, and earning a few jce by the -sharpening of knives, settin >f scissors, and patching up of leaky 1 ;beu uten sils. It was more than a foilght after they*bad left'Londorf that fy reached the end of their journey, a iet village down in Leicestershire. T< dtty's uri. bounded astonishment, hei grandfath er had test the grinding mafce at their halting place the'lirght befoE He.had, though, dressed himself in pat Kitty called his Sunday clothes,/d had pro duced from the bundle a (ss fer her -self which she had rtever en before, made 6f a light gray stuf with blue shoulder knots. 'Greatly 1 !Kitty “Ex ulted and danced over thilnery, but was rather subdued when was 'told that she was not to put'it until the next evening. HoWevershe was dressed in what had been her frock, she whs con tent \ was indeed delighted wbeh hi grand father told her that upon this jiy'they were to go in a carriage— jt a real carriage. O .. . .5 There was some little astoniinent in the mind of the landlady of thaßarton Arms when a fly stopped at tj door, and a quiet looking person, whjby his upright walk and composed f<k she took to be a gentleman, thouglg. poor one, got out, lifted out a little jfl in a broad. brimmed straw hat, andiith on ly a small bundle in Jais band, ntered the door. ‘Can I have a private room, la lady ?' he asked. T shall be stoppr here with my little granddaughter r two days. 1 •Yes, sir, we have a private r< n.’ It was late in the afternooi when they arrived, and when tea w over Kitty went to bed, more 6lee] than usual after her unwonted excitt ent.— Her grandfather sat by her bed e un til she was asleep, and -then ret* led to the sittirtg’rodm and rdng (Wb . ‘Willyou ask the landlady to s|> up V The landlady came up gladly or she had been not a little mystified a > puz zled as to Whom'the gentleman Ith the little girl could be, or what c tld be their motive in coming to sps days in Laverton. ‘Pray,-sit down,’ said her gut| when -she entered. ‘I daresay you fesome what surprised at my coming hie ; but at the present moment I cannotfixplain matters, although, no doubt, |u will know shortly. Will you be kinimough to answer one or two questiol, even if you do not understand my niive in asking them ? 1 The landlady expressed hnr|viliing' ness to do so. * Sir John Barton’s place is elite here, is it not ?’ ‘ Quite close,-sir 1 ; his gate isjust at the entrance of the village.’ ! ‘ Has he any head ls but ler for instance—who have the ■family many yeais ?’ 1 Lor, yes, sir ! He is not a gelkanan to change his servants. Mr. Merrrn, his butler, has been with him, man f»d boy, nigh thirty years.’ ‘Do you think I could get to epea to Mr. Merrion ?’ ‘ Nothing easier, sir; he is dow -stairs now. He steps over sometimes f an'evening to smoke a pipe with n,’ husband in the bar parlor.’ ‘Would you kindly toll him that i stranger would be glad if be wool come up to speak to him for a few u> ments on a subject of importance •?’ The landlady left the room to cary out the request, more and more pnzzld by all this mystery. In a minute or two there was a tp at the door, and a rather stout mauyn undress livery, entered. ‘ Please take a seat, Mr. Merrion.- Excuse the liberty I have taken in at\- ing you to come up ; but when yu hear what 1 have to say, I am sure y u will do so.’ H Excuse me, sir,’ the butler said-; ‘Ms. Malin has just told me about you, aid I don’t know' what you want to ask nse ; that is, I don’t know whether you art a lawyer, or what you want; and I&n only say anything I can teil you I VRll, but not if it’s going to harm —no ror worry Sir John.’ ‘ Not at all, Mr. Merrion, and you sre qiiite right. You have, 1 hoar, beei a long time in the family, and are, I s>e, attached to your master. * He’is, I ie lieve, a proud man,’ ‘ Well, yes, he’s a right to be thal, I expect,’ the butler said cautiously. ‘ Quite so, quite so, Mr. Merrion ; out it is a sad thing to think he has no clild to come after him.’ ‘Ay, a,y,’ the butlet said, ‘it is all that.’ ‘ His only son,’as I baVe heard,’his interrogator said, ‘ made a match be neath him, and his father never forgave him, never saw him again.’ ‘Ay.’ said the butler, * but that wasn’t master’s fault. He was away, and the letter telling as how Master Charles were ill never got to bind for a week; and then he went off post baste to Fiance. I know, for he took me with him ; and when wo got down to Marsel, we found he was dead and buried, and his wife, and that the child, who was only a month old, was gone—no •one knew where. He’d give half hhs ‘money to know.’ ' Thank God, thank God ;’ the other said ; ‘this is good news, indeed. Poor little Kitty ! Thank God !’ and lie cov ered his face with his hands, and cried. For some time the butler could only gaze at him in astonishment; at last he said, ‘ And who may you be, sir ? and wbat do you know of the child ?’ ‘ I am her grandfather, too,’ the man said. ‘ And the child is asleep in the next room,’ ‘ I am glad, the butler said, excitedly; ‘ ay, as glad as if it was my own. But why did you never come before ? I know master advertised in every paper.’ ‘ I never saw them. I only knew he had beeu written for on the same day I had. He never came, and I supposed would not. I buried my child and her husband, and took the baby, and I have kept her ever since. And 1 love her as I loved ber mother before her. But she is over five years old now; and I thought that it was time to try if her grandfather—who I believed had never forgotten his son, even when he knew he was dying—would now take his son's child. Thank God that from what you say, he will do so.’ *Do so?’ the butler said ; ‘ proud as Sir John ie—and he is proud—there is FHBERT ij§ APPEAL. nothing in the world he would not have done to find her out. Thp conversation lasted some time longer, and then Mr. Merrion took his lerrve ancj went straight home, without, to SB s *. Malin’s great disappointment, revealing one word of what had taken place at the long and mysterious inter view. Tbe next evening Sir John Barton was sitting alone after his dinner. A tall, Btdtely man, but with marks of deep sorrow upon bis face. A proud re served'than, the world said, and in his youth no doubt truly ; a reserved man still, but scarcely a proud one. At the present moment Sir John was wonder ing over the bohavtor of bis butler, John Merrion, at dinnec-John was ordinarily dne'of the tno-t staid and respectful of domestics ; but John had behaved throughout dinner in a manner quite unlike himself. If such a thing had not been out of the question, he shoUlQFave said that John Merrion wasELisnfc. Ilti.' had broken two glasses ; he had spilled the 'wine in filling his glass, and the mhn'i eyes were certainly full of tears. His master had asked hipi what was the matter, and he replied, ‘Nothing, Sir John ;’ but, of course, something was the matter, although, Ss the footman was in the room, Sir John bad passed the matter over. Sir John now turn ed it over in his mind. John Merrion had been a widower fdr many years, and his only son was now head-groom. Perhaps one of his children was ill.— Sir John had heard nothing df it,'but be thought be wouid ring and ask. At this moment the door opened a little, and the sound of a man crying was dis. tiuctiy heard through it, and then the baronet thought be was dreaming, when a little child with long golden hair, with a blue ribbon round her head, came up towards him, with-an air half timid, yet frank and confident, and putting her hand in his, said : ‘Please, grandpa, my name is Kitty Barton, and I am come to stay with you and love you, Please, this is papa’s like ness, and a letter.’ And she held out a gold locket, and a letter directed in the well remembered handwriting of his dead son. 'For a moment the baron stood speech less. Then, with a cry of ‘Thank God, thank God for His mercy 1’ he caught the child up and held her to his heart, while his tears ‘rained down upon her sunny head. ‘•Don’t tify, gf&ndpa : ; don’t cry,’ she said, presently beginning to sob herself at the sight of his emotion. ‘lf grandpa’s sorry, Kilty go way again.’ ‘No, no, ijry child'; I am not sorry, I am only glad, only very thankful you have come.’ Kitty looked up a little doubtfully. ‘Kitty never cries when she is glad,’ she said'; ‘she'eriea when she hurts her. self.’ For some time the bardnet held ‘her closely in his arms, kissing her; then, when he became calmer, he put her down on, the rug before the fire, placed the letter and portrait by to be examin ed when no eye could see him, and rang the bell. Jbhn Mdrrion dntered, his eye red with crying. ‘You knew of this, John ?’ ‘Yes, Sir John; thank God she has 'tome'!’ ‘Ali, indeed, John, thank God !’ and the master and servant wrung each oth er’s hands in the fullness of their feel ing. ‘Now, John, send the other ser vants here.’ In a fc’w minutest hey entered. They had all heard from the butler wbat had happened, and many of them who had known their late young master, were wiping their eyes as they entered, ‘Listen all of you,’ thtrbaronet said, with a proud jov. ‘This young lady is my granddaughter, Miss She will live here in future. You will look upon her as your future mistress, and the heiress of this place. Mrs. Leth ridgo,’ he "said to the house-keeper, ‘will you see a bed prepared for her in the little room next to mine ?’ Several of the elder women came for ward and kissed Kitty, who was rath er alaimed at all this ; and the house keeper said, ‘will you come with me dearie?’ ‘No, thank you,’ Kitty answered, tak ing tight hold of the baronet’s hand ; 1 would rather stay with grandpa.’ Wlfen they hud all left the room Kitty todk heir seaft on a footstool at Sir John Barton’s fedt and looked gravely into the fire, while the baronet- stroked her hair quietly, and had difficulty in persuading himself it was all true.— Presently Kitty spoke. _ ‘What a biggie, gra'rf&pU ! 1 ‘never Baw such a big fire, and it is hardly cold at all. What a Idt *f ’money it ■must cost !” “it is a large ’room, Kitty, and 'yah see I was all alone ; so I had p. fire for company. Kitty opened her eyes a little wider even than usual, and remained for some time in thought. The result of her re flection showed itself in her next speech. ‘Please, grandpa, Kitty is hungry 1 ; she would like some supper.’ Tho baronet hastily rang the bell.— The butler appeared. ‘John, bring a tray with some tea and cold chicken.’ ‘And potatoes’ naid Kitty. ‘And potatoes,’ added the baronet, ‘if you have any ready.’ ‘Yes, Sir John ; there are sure to be some ready for the supper down stairs.’ ‘With their skins on,’ Kitty said again. ‘With their skins On, of course,’ the baronet said gravely. When the butler had left the room, Kitty again climbed up on her grand father’s knee. ‘Am I going to have chicken for sup per V she asked. ‘Yes, my dear, if you like it.’ ‘Kitty doesn’t know,’ she said rather doubtfully. ‘Kitty never tasted chicken. Will it have its feather’s on ?’ ‘No, Kitty ; the feathers are all taken off.’ Kitty looked relieved. ‘Sometimes Kitty has had sausages for supperj she said in a confidential tone; ‘hot you know, my other grand pa’—she nodded—‘always saved one for Kitty to eat cold for breakfast.’ The baronet’s brow clouded for a mo meot at the mention of this other rela tion of his grandchild; and then he said kindly. ‘Was he very kind to you ? did you love him very much, your other grand pa?’ ‘Kitty love him so much,’ the child said, holding out her arms; ‘bigger, CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1870. much bigger; he so kind to Kitty.—•* Poor grandpa very sad to-day and cry, you know; that made Kitty sorry.— Poor grandpa !’ The baronet felt by his own joy at finding her how great iriust be the sof row of the other in gPen her tip. ‘ls he in the village uow ?’ he asked. Kitty nodded. ‘Gave Kitty message. If you want to see him, you write ; he come here in the morning ’ ‘Very well, dear,’the bartmet said*; ‘I will send for him. And nbw, Kitty, do* you like dolls ?’ Kitty nodded very decidedly this ■time. /. ‘Kitty got two dolls, one new, only legs broken ; old one got no head.” ‘I will get you anew odo, Kitty, and a doll’s house, and a noah’B ark, and all sorts of toys.’ ‘Kitty’s eyes opened wide in astonish ment at all this wealth of things which was to pour in‘upon her; but further” conversation was stopped by the entry of the butler with tbe tray. yJohn Mer rion put the things on the table, and then, in some perplexity, placed a chair and put a cushion upon it to raise tbe seat, ‘No, rtO, Kitfy said, ‘me sit on grand pa’s knee. Grandpa, move chair to ta ble.’ The baronet did as he was told, and Kitty ate her supper then in triumph, and pronounced the chicken to be very gobti, but dbt so good hs Shitisages.— The potatoes she pronounced to be de cidedly inferior. ‘Mau atedrner,’ hhe exclaimed, ‘sell bigger than thatand 'she held up her two tiny closed hands; ‘much bigger for a penny. Good mau always give Kitty big, big later.’ When she had finished, she said : ‘Kitty go bed now, grandpa*; Fifty sleepy. Me say prayers 'first. 1 And then, kneeling upon her grandfather’s hp and clasping her hands, she repea ted her usual little evening prayer, ing with “God bless both my grandpas, and make Kitty good child, for Christ’s sake. Amen. Now me sing hymn,’ she said, and standing by the baronet’s knee, she sang two verses of the Eve ning Hymn. The baronet was deeply affected. ‘Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,’ indeed,’ he repeated to himself when she had been carried off by the housekeeper. ‘I am indeed thankful for this darling; at least, if the mau robbed me of a son, he has restored to mo a child in my old age.’ At ten o’clock the next day the knife grinder was shown into the library of Sir John Barton. The men bad never seen each other before, and both had cherished a deep feeling of wrong against the other. Before u word was spoken, each looked the other Tull in the •face, and the scrutiny in either case was satisfactory. There was little difference between them in height; Sir John Bar ton was perhaps five years the elder, but be jooked muce than bis real a&«.—- Both tvere proud men in their way, but the baronet was the least unbending of the two. The guestcommencefl the conversa tion : Sir John Barton, until yesterday I thought as ill of you as you have, no doubt, thought of me. I have learnt my error-; >t is for me to convince you of yours. I cortie to you frankly. Our ranks in life are different, but in our grand child we have the one great aim and object in commdh.’ Up to this time both men had been standing; but here, in compliance with a gesture fiom the baronet, each took his seat facing the other across the hearthrug. The guest then continued : T will tell you my Story -first, sir. I 4vas the bon of sin iron monger in a large way in Nottingham, and was intended by my father to succeed to his business. He gave me a fair education at the grammar school of the place, but like most boys, I had a taste for adven ture, and when I was seventeen I had an altercation with my father about the shop, ran away, and enlisted in the 10th Foot. My father found out what I had done, and wrote to offer to purchase my discharge, but i refused, and went out to India with my regiment. I was a steady, well conducted man, and soon obtained my sergeant’s stripes. When in India. I beard of the death of my father —my mother had died many years before--and also that when his business was wound up, the surplus remaining was very small, a few hundred pounds, which was placed to my credit in Eng land. After I came back 1 fell in love and -married. My wife was tbedaught' er of a French emigre, with nothing but her good, looks and her kind heart. 1 purchased toy discharge, arid with my Httle property bought and furbished a house at Deal, where we let lodgings. — My wife managed the house, and I gave lessons in fencing and drill to the few schools there, and to casual visitors.— VYe had o.ne child. When she was ten years old I lost rny wife, and after that ail my feelings centered in my child. I watched over her and loved her as only a man can love his only child. So things went on until your son came as a lodger to us. I knew nothing of him; was ignorant that he was the olny son of a baronet and heir to a large estate. I knew nothing of it until one day I came home and found my child was gone, and a letter from her saying that she was secretly married, and telling me the rank and position of your son. I was proud, sit, of my good name as you could be oi yours. I shrank from the idea that it should be said that I had been a partv to my child taking in—l ~IJ J . . knew how the ivorld would put it the heir of a rich and ancient family, and I wrote to say that until you acknowl edged the marriage and approved of it, I would not do so. My pride, sir, was less deeply grounded than yours was. Kate wrote to me from the south of Franco, where they had taken up their residence, to say that you would not and that they were penniless. Now, sir} my pride urged me to do the thing which it had before prevent- ed my doing. I sold my house and furniture, sent every penny to them, and set to work with my own hands to support myself. Hush, Sir John Bar ten, there are no thanks, ho acknowl edgements due. I did what I conceiv ed to be my duty ; yod did what ydu believed to be yours. Months after, a letter reached me from my dear child. Her husband was attacked with chol era. She had a little girj, and had no friend but myseif. She implored me to come out* Fortunately I had a few pounds by me, and I.harried to Marseilles. I found Kate dying, and that her husband had expired three days before. She told me you had been written for at the same time with my self. I have since heard you did not re ceive that letter until a week after. I closed my dear child’s eyes, I laid her by the side of her husband, in the strangers’ cemetery at Marseilles, and then finding you did not come, and sup posing you would not forgive, I took the baby and came home to England. Since then, sir, J have kept her—have brought her up. T trdst, kindly and’ well. At first the comad life I led could do her no harm, but as she grew up I saw that it was for her good that she should regain her’lost place in the world. I thought you might grant for giveness to the grandchild, I btelie'ved you bad refused to ‘the son. I came down here and found that I had mis taken you ; that it was only an unfor tunate accident which kept you from standing beside your son’s grave; and then I was able to resign Kitty to you, secure at least, of her future.’ The- baronet had listened, deeply moved-; once or twice he had tried to interfere, but the speaker had stopped him with a preemptory gesture. When he ceased, Sir John Barton rose and took both the hands of the other. ‘I have, as you supposed, long mis taken you, as you have, with greatly more reason, mistaken me. Yours now ■is the triumph. Be generous, sir. You give up this child to me—this child, whom much as I already love, you must love far more. At least, share her with me. Make this your home. My whole hfcpe, tfcy tohole aim in life, now is in the child and her happiness. Stbp ahd aid me to bring her up.’ ‘I thank.you, sir,’ the ex sergeant said; T thank ybu frbiti my heart, for I feel that your invitation is no idle compli ment; but it is out of the question, your rank in life is infinitely above mine; and I—yes, I am only proud to accept a po sition like this.’ ‘Your pride, then is worse than mine,’ the baronet said warmly. ‘I am, I ac knowledge, a proud man; but I am not too proud to feel without bitterness that my son was supported by your generosi ty that your hand laid him in the grave, that you have brought up his child.*— Think you that I, a rich man, with no means of spending my wealth, can evtr repay such obligations as these ? Do you think that sharing this home with you could ever make me feel that my debt was cancelled ? And do you forget the child ? Will you go away from her, and take from her the friend who has heretofore been a father to her ? Sir, you have thought me proud; what is my pride to yours ?’ The old soldier was evidently movod with the address, and at the extreme earnestness and sincerity with which i.t was spoken. The Baronet saw his ad vantage, and rang the bell. ‘Send Miss Barton here.’ Tt*?re Was silence until Kitty entered. With a cry of joy she ran up to the old soldier. 0, grandpa, grandpa! I am so glad ! Kiss Kitty I’m so happy ! Now grand pa so kind to Kitty; but me want old grandpa too.’ ‘He won’t stay with you Kitty,’ the baronet said-; ‘he wants to go away, in stead of living here with us. Come sir,’ he said, ‘give way for the sake of our dear child. This house is large enough for us both. Yon shall have your own hpartrhehfe, where Kitty can spend a part of the day with you. You can live the life of a hermit there, if you like, and can join us here when you like.— Nothing I can do for you can ever make me Otherwise thah deeply you debtor.— Surely the house is large enough to hold Kitty's two graudpas, eh ? Kitty tell him so.* Kitty, who was nestled in her old grandpa’s arms, now whispered to him. ‘Naughty grandpa, why do you want *to go away aud make me cry ? Me l6ve you ; why you go away from Kitty ?’ And so the ex-sergeant gave in. For a time he went away and then came back again and took up his he said at first temporarily, but he nev er loft it—at the Hall. At first he hept to the suit of apartments appropiiated to hior; but gradually he responded to the heartiness of the baronet’s rtiaoneiy and became his permanent guest; and none ol the visitors at the Hall who were introduced to the fine military look ing man who Barton’s grand father ever guessed that he had for years supported Barton aud ‘hirh self by grinding kDives and scissors, and mending pots and pans. Under the joint care and grandship of the two njeß, it may be imagined that Kitty grew up rather spoiled bat a very lova ble girl-; and when she married, at the age of eighteen, the son of a neighbor ing nobleman, with the perfect appro bation of her two adopted fathers (and upon that occasion, by the express wish and assent ot Sir John, the first grand father gave her away,) it is difficult to say which of the two she most loved and honored. Both lived in perlect ac cord and friendship long enough to see the happiness of their darling, hud to nufse her children upon their knebs. The Tower of Babel —A writer de scribes the present appearance of the place where languages got mixed : ‘After a ride of nine miles, we were at the foot of the Bier-Nimrood. Our hor ses’ feet were trampling npon the re mains of bricks which showed here and there through the accumulated dust and rubbish of ages. Before oar eyes uprose a great mound of earth, barren and bare. This was Bier-Nimrood, the ruins of the Tower of Babel, by which the first builders of the earth had vain ly hoped to scale high heaven. Here, also, it was that Nebuchadnezzar built, for bricks bearing bis name have been found in the ruins. At the top of the mound a great mass of brick-work pierces the accumulated soil. With your finger you touch the very bricks— large, square-shaped, and massive—that were thoroughly burned* the very mor tar, now hard as graftite* handled more than 4000 years ago by earth’s iiripidus people. From the summit of the mound, far away oyer the plaiti, we see glistening the gilded dome of a mosque, reflecting the bright rays of the morn ing sun. This was the tomb of the holy Ali. To pray before this at some period of bis life; to kiss the sacred dust of the earth around there at some time or other; to bend his body and count his beads, is the daily desire of every devout Mohamedau.’ SAVANNAH CARDS. - P. H. BEHN, COTTON and RICE ‘FACTOR AND Geiiffrtil Commission Merchant, West of the Exchange, BAY STREET, : : SAVANNAH, GA. augl9-6m* AUSTIN & ELLIS, COMMISSION —ifib— FORWARDING MERCHANTS and Cotton Factors, SAVANNAH, : : : : GEORGIA. JjgP'Bagsrinjj and Ties anil other article# fam ished, and adrances made upon Cotton 6h COh-. sign meat or for sale. augl9-6m COTTON TIES! COTTOtf TIES Dunn’s Patent Self-Adjusting HORIZONTAL COTTON TIE AS AGENTS for the above namsd Patent, we beg leave to coiqroend it to the -attention of Planters and Merchabls. , i This TIE is a decided improvement, and contains the advantages of GREAT STRENGTH, GREAT SIMPLICITY. EASE IN MANIPULATION. Being superior to any other TIE manufactured, we can c-ntidently recommend it to the public. JNO. W. ANBERSON’S SONS* CO. ao£l9-6m Agents in Savhnnah, Ga. "JOSEPH FINEGAN & 00, Cotton Factoi’s AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS, BAT STREET, SAVANNAH, t GEORGIA. Liberal Advances male on Cotton consigned to us or to our Correspondents in New York and Liverpool. aug!9 ly* FALMEE & DEPPISH, WHOLESALE AMD RETAIL DEALES IN Hardware, RUBBER BELTING, AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS, Powder, Shot, Caps and Lead, 14S Congress & 67 St. Julian Sts. SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. augl9-6m* GROOVER, STUBBS & CO., COTTON FACTORS AND General Commission Merchants Bay Street, SAVANNAH, GA. Bagging. Ties, Rope and other Supplies Riirnishe'd. Also, Liberal Cash Advances made on Consign ments for sale or shipment to Liverpool or North ern Porta. C. E GROOVER, Savannah, “C. F. STUBBS, “ augl9-6it A. T. MACINTYRE, Tbomasville R. ff. Anpbrson, G. W. Axdkrsow, Jr., Jons W. Andkrsok, A. H. Col*. JOHN W, ANDEfiSftN’S So!*!s COTTON, FACTORS AttV COMMISSION MERCHANTS, Anderson's Block, Drayton St., near the Bay, SAVANNAH, GA. LIBERAL CASH ADVANCES made on CON SIGNMENTS for sale in Savannah, or on Shipmont to reliable correspondents in Liverpool, New York, Philadelphia, Boston or Baltimore. To old patrons we return thanks ; to new ones, promise our best services. —o-ALSO— Agents -Empire Line <jf Side 'Wheel S'etmera to Neiv York. *ug!9-ly* THOMAS M. ALLEN, WITH GOEQUITT & BAGGS, COTTON FACTORS Commission Merchants Savannah, Ga. Liberal Advances oa Consignments when pesired. may 13-6 m CLAGHORN-& CUNNINGHAM, Wholesale and Retail Grooersi And dealers in Fine Wines, Liquors, Segars., Rev, Corner Drayton and Bay Streets, SAVANNAH, GA. All Goods Warranted. Orders from the onntry promptly attended to. angl9-ly A. J. MILLER. C. P. MILLER. A. J. MILLER & CO., Furniture Dealers, 134 BrouglitoA Sfc. J , SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA. WALNUT Bedroon Sets, Imitation French Sets, Parlor Sets, Bureaus. Wash Stands, Bedsteads, Chairs of all grades, Children’s Carri ages, etc. t3B~ Jobbing and Repairing neatly done and with dispatch. Mattress making, Feathers, Up holstering, etc. augt'J-Sm* A. S- HARTRIDQE, General Commission Merchant AND FACTOR. 92 Bay Street, SAVANNAH, GA; Having had over twenty years experience in said business, he will pay the same strict attention to the sale of Cotton and other Produce, aud to the purchase 6f Supplies, as in former years. jgf- He will not have aCy interest id the pur chase of Cotton. Liberal advances made on Consignments. aug!9-ly* j. J. diCkison & do, COTTON FACTORS and General Commission Merchants’, SAN ANNA % GA, * sagr Liberal advances made on Consignments, augis.fim SAVANNAH CARDS. A. M. Sloan-. J. H. Sloan. A. M SLOAN & 00, COTTON FACTORS Alfitt i General Commission Merchants CLAQHORM A CUNNINGHAM’S RAXGE, BAY STREET, SAVANNAS, ■: *.* 'GEbRGIIi. Bagging and Rope or Iron Ties, advanced on crops. Liberal csh advances made on consign, ments for sale in Savannah, or on shipments to re liable correspondents in Liveipool, New York, Philadelphia, or Baltimore. augl9 6m* H. H. LINVLILE, •Wirß S. W. GLEASON, Iron and Brass Foundty and Ma chine Works, Manufacturer and dealer in SUGAR MILLS, SUGAR PANS, Gin Gear, Cotton Screws, Shafting, Pullevs. Portab'e and Stationary Steam Engines, Corn Mills and Ma chinery of all kinds. St. Julian Street, West of the Market. SAVANNAH, GA. I3T Orders respeciftilly suliiited.' augl9tf M. KEfCHUM. A. L. HARTRIDGE. KETCHUM & HARTRIDGE. BA-NKERS | AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS, EXCHANGE BUILDING, •SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA., Rsvsrbsces:— Moses Taylor, President City Bank, N. Y.; P. C. Calhoun, President Fourth Na tional Bank, N. Y.; John J. Cisco A Son, Bankers, N. Y.; Morris Ketchum, Banker, N. Y. ; J. N Norris, Cashier First National Bank, Baltimore; M. McHichael, Cashier First National Bank, Phila delphia. auglS fy B. A. SCHWARZ. I*AAC A. BRADY. Schwarz & Brady, Wholesale and Retail Dealers in O .A. mS 3 3E3 1? S , Floor Oil Cloths, Mattings, SHADE LINENS, WALL PAPER, WINDOW SHADES, CORNICKS, CURTAINS, CORDS, TASSRLS. 115 Broughton Street, Wylli/s Building, (South Sid#, Between Bull and Whitaker Sts.) SAVANNAH, GEORGIA, jar* Post Office Box 494. augl9-ly* ~W, M. DAVIDSON, Wholesale fOREIbN and DOMESTIC Wines frn& Liquors y *|SO Bay Street, Savannah, Ga. (Established in 1844.) JJAR constantly on band a Urge assortment of X_L Trench Brandies, Holliind CJiu, St.'Crflik and Jamaica Ruin, Scotch and Irish Whiskey, *Fort and Sherry Wine, (the latter dil'ect importa tion from Spain.) All the above Liquors drekuaran teed to he genuine as imported. Also on band, ■JOHN GIBSON’S SONS & CO’S Celebrated Whiskies, of all g-ades. Sole agent for Georgia and Florida, for Massey, Huston A Co.’s celebrated Philadelphia Draught Ale,in barfels and half barrels. attgfh-Btn* WM. HENRY WOODS, COTTON FACTOR AND sum Min mum. BAY STREET, Savannah, Ga., Ie prepared, at all times t 6 advance liber ally on consignments for s:fle ih 'Savanhab, or for shipment to his correspondents in New York and Liverpool. angs-6m* L J. GUILMARTIN & 00. COTTOX FACTORS AND GENERAL EffllSSl MERCHANTS-. Bay Street, Savannah Ga. Agents for Bradley's Super Phosphate of Lime. Bagging, Rope, & Iron Ties, always on hand. Usual Facilities Extended to Customers. ang!9 6m DENNIS FALVEY, FURNITtiRE DEALER, 153 BrouglitonlStreet, SAVANNAIf, : : : GEORGIA. M AUOGANY, Walnut and Chestnut Bed-Room Suites; also Imitation French and Teattar Suites ; Mabcgaoy and Walnut Parlor Suites, in Haircloth and Reps'; Sofas, Marble-Top Tables, Bureaus, Sideboards. Wardtobes, Book-Cases, Wasbstands, Chairs and Bedsteads of all kini. tgp New Work made to order, and Country or derepromplly filled. aug’9 ly. W. D'csCiX.....i'l J. H. Johnston. DUNCAN & JOHNSTON, COTTON FACTORS AND General Commissies Merchants, ■76 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. sep3ly* RANDELL & CO,, Wholesale Grocers, 201 & 203 Bay St., West of Bufihrd, SAVANNAIT, GA. J3S9 - General Agents of the Orange Rifle Pow der for Georgia, Florida aud AlabauuL auglv 6m* VOL. IV—NO. 12. SA V'ANNAH CARDS. W. H. STARK & CO., WHOLESALE GRO CBS.S, ■COMMISSION MERCHANTS AN I*) Cotton Factor». Agent# for th* sale of Gullett'i Steel Brush COTTON OINSv ALSO, E. F. COE’S SU PERPH OSPH ATr of LIME. 86P* Careful attention given to Sales efr Shipments of Cotton, and all kinds of Produce. Liberal advances made oh 'Coftlfgrito'#hts. BAGGING, ROPE and ARROW TIES Constantly on hand. sep3o 6ra ADOLPHE SACK, Importer bf SrLVEII A N't) GOLt> ■W-A-T O H-B8 CHOICE JEWELRY, BIJOUTERIE, CLOCKS, Eto., Etc, Cdruer Bryadt & Whitdker Ltreefs, SAVANNAH, : t r : ’GEORGIA. repairing of Watches anci Jewel r j executed With Gtepatcb, and Warranted to Give Satisfaction-. augl9 6m W*k. H. Tfeox. Wm. W. Gordon. tison & Gordon, COTTON FACTORS AND HERE COiIISSIOI MERCHANTS. sirleJ} Savannah, Georgia. Bagging and Rope or Iron Ties advanced on Crops. Liberal cash advances made on consignment* of Cotton. . , , , Grateful for liberal prtronage in the past, a eoa tiuuance of the same is respectfully solicited. sep2-6m* ISAACS’ HOUSE, Cherry 5i.................. Macon, Ga. E. ISAACS, Proprietor. THIS HOTEL is located in the central portiofe of the city—convenient to Ware Houses c-faft business houses generally. It being the only house in the city kept on the EUROPEAN TLAN*, Offer* unequalled advantages to the planter and traveling public generally. The table is supplied with the best the market affoads, and the Toettsfhrn fished with new and neat furniture. ..... (3TA FREE Hack will be in attendance at Ifll trains. jjSittf EACH CARGO OF THIS TJ A. IST <Z> tS ANALYZED Before Being Offered for Sale, And Warranted Equal to the Original Standard Value. {gy* To he used on all Crops precisely as Peruvian Guano. 11. 11. JONES. Agent atig26tf Ctifbbert.Ga. Now is the Time TO BUY Drugs, Paints-, Oils* Glass* Uhenv'cals, Ett*. C It IS A marl 1-1 y J. j. iIcDOXALT). Dr. M. A. SIMMONS’ GENUINE LIVER MEDICINEf DRAKE'S Plantation Bitters, Hostetler’s Stomach Bitter*, Dromgoole’s English Female Bitters, Ward’s Eureka Bitters, „ , , . _ „ Bradv’s Bitten. Hurley sand Van. Deusea’s Worm Confections, Roaadalis, T . . _ ■ Kero.u*ne 0 : 1, Etc., Just received *&d fur Sale at the Drug Store of •H*** i. 5. McßJNAfc#-