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BY GARDNER & BARROW. THE GEORGIA USIRROR, Is published every Friday, in Florence, Stewart county, Ga. at THREE DODLARSi a vear, if paid in advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, if not paid until the end ot the year. Advertisements will be conspicuously inserted at One Dollar per square, (15 lines) the first, and 50 cents for each subsequent insertion. Nothing uu dcr 15 lines will be considered less than a square. A deduction will be mqfle for yearly ad vertisements. All advertisements handed in for publication without ■» limitation, will fo*s published till forbid, and charged accordingly. Sales ol Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad ministrators and l*u' nliaus, are required by law to be advertised „i a public Gazette, sixty duvs previews to '’ ie ( | ;(V of sale. -I* lo Uale of Personal property must be adver tise' 1 m like manner forty days. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land and Ne groes, must be published weekly for four months. AH Letters on business must be dost Fiio to insure attention. JOB Bl» INTiNG CONNECTED with the office of the Aim s' ROK, is a splendid assortment of Am! we are enabled to exeute all kind of Job work, in the neatest manner and at the shortest notice. ■M --4*. A*: * of every description will constantly be kept on baud, such as INDICTMENTS, DECLARATIONS, SDKPCK.WS, JURY' SIMMONSES, EXECUTIONS. COST EXECUTIONS. SHERIFF S BILLS OF SALE, do DEEDS, LAND DEEDS, JUS. SI AMMONSES, do EXECUTIONS, Mortgages, LET. A D IIM STR ATION, do TESTAMENTARY', do GUARDIANSHIP, And a great many others for Justices of the Peace, Administrators, Executors, Arc. AN ACT mo incorporate the town of Florence, in the a county of Stewart, and appoint Commis sioners for i he same : S.<;c. 1. Be it marled by the. Senate and House A litpresi r.talices of the State of Georgia, in gen ' ! ■ .-ably met, and it is hereby enacted In/ the authority ■>/ the saute, That from and after the pas sive of this act. Asaph R. Hill,Thomas Gardner, Asel P. Rood, Joseph M. Miller and Benjamin (i.irduer are hereby appointed Coin itissioaer.s for the To\vn.of Florence, in the county of Stewart, and they, ora majority of them, and their succes sors in otlice, shall have power ui.d authority to pass all laws and ordinances which they, or a ma jority of them may deem expedient and necessary tor the well government and good order of said Town: Provided, said bye-laws and regulations are not repugnant to the Constitution and Laws oi this State. ■Sec. 2. And lie it further enacted by the author it it <\f the same, That on the first Saturday in Jan uary, the year eighteen hundred and thirty-eight, and in each and every year thereafter, all free white male persons in the corporate limits of said town of Florence, as hereafter prescribed and lim ited, who arc entitled to vote lbr Members to the ■Nate Legislature, shall assemble at the Commis sioners’ room in said town, and by ballot elect five commissioners who shall continue in office for one year, and until their successors are elected, at which election ope or more magistrates shall pre side; and incase of resignation, removal or death ol any of said Commissioners, tit' remaining Commissioners shall have power to fill such va cancy for the time being. Sec. 3. And be it further enacted, by the authori '*// aforesaid, That the corporate authority and ju risdiction of said Commissioners shall include the whole of lot No. ninety and all of fractions Nos. eighty-nine and eighty-eight. Skc. 4. And be it further enacted by the authori ty aforesaid, That the said Commissioners shall lay and collect a tax for the support of said town. Sue. 5. And be it further enacted by the author d.'/ aforesaid. That the inhabitants of said Town idmll be free from road duty without the limits of Hai<l Corporation. All laws and parts of laws mil against this act be and the same arc hereby repealed. JOSEPH DAY, Speaker of the House of Representatives. ' ROBERT 31. ECHOLS, President of the Senate. Assented to, 14th December, 1837. GEORGE R. GILMER, Governor. Secretary of State’s Office, £ MillcdgeriUe, 19<A April. 1838 y 1 certify tl at he foregoing is a true copy from the original ( f fi : in this office. Given undir my hand and seal of office. \Y3I. A. TENNILLE, 6 Secretary of State. FOR SALE. |\N accommodating terms, a fine young ALile, " ' perfectly gentle, works well in the wagon er plough. For further particulars apply to the ■ übseriber at Pleasant Grove one and a half miles Florence. FRANKLIN COWAN. May 11,1839 "t 7 wiiß®a&3»&jns ©ns, TIIE GAME OF CHESS. ( Concluded.) If Miss Leigh ever appeared lovely and fasci nating—it she ever appeared to be all that a wo man should be, it was for the fortnight that suc ceeded the demolition of the pyramid; and Hor ace Chauncey at length surrendered himself to the force of her attractions. And yet his heart had not the perfect consent of his judgment or rather, he feared that it his judgment were per fectly well informed, its sentence would be against bun. “And yet, what have I to Oar?” thought he. “The strong attachment of her friends speaks volumes in her praise, even did she nc-d such tes timony in her favor. And do 1 not, myself, con stantly witness the vigor of her intellect—the cor rectness of her opinions—the delicacy of her feel iugs—the tenderness of her sympathies ? What can I ask more ? Where else can I find as much ?" He sighed deeply as he added—“. Mrs. Atkins spoke tiutli—l have become fastidious. lam ex pecting that perfection on earth-which i- to be found only in heaven. And am I so perfect my self as to have a right to expect perfection in a wife ? Alas, how many defects wiil ><>•.; have to overlook in me, Augusta, should \\>u ever be mine! and mine you must be ! I can—l will hesi tate no longer! This very evening you shall know the wishes of my heart!” lie immediate ly opened his writing-desk, filled a page with the avowal of his attachment, and closed by the offer of his hand. Oil entering his friends’s parlor in the evening, Air. Chauncey found the young ladies engaged at chess; Mr. Atkins seated by them, watching the progress of the game, while Mrs. Atkins was occupied with a book in another part of the room, lie was so often with them, that he came in and went out almost like one of the family, so that a bow and a “good evening” were all iliat was ne cessary before he mingled in the group, and be came a participator in whatever was on hand He now stationed himself behind Miss Leigh’s chair, and fastened his eyes on the clie.-s board.— For some time, however, he could not fix his mind on the game, so much were his thoughts engros sed by the important letter that seemed to burn in his pocket. “Our fair friends arc so equally matched,” said Mr. Atkins,’ “that there is much interest in watch ing the Contest.” “Have you frequently played since you have been here?” inquired Air. Chauncey. “Very seldom,” 31iss Leigh replied. “I thought so,” said Mr. Chauncey, “or I must before this have found jou thus engaged ” “They played last evening,” said 31 r. Atkins, “and had a warmly contested battle.” “And who was conqueror ?” asked 31r. Chaun cey. “O, Augusta,” said Miss Eustace, looking up, “but much against my will, 1 assure you. 1 nev er tried harder for victory in mv life.” “Then you bore your defeat admirably,” said Mr. Atkins. “For my part, I thought you quite indifferent about it, you appeared so well satisfied after you had yielded the contest.” “O, yes,— after I had yielded,” said 31 css Eus tace. “The time of trial, you know ,is when one fears that they shall be obliged to yield. After all, there is about as much satisfaction hi being beaten as in beating; for one can scare"*/ help sympathizing with an antagonist who lias fought bravely but unsuccessfully.” “1 am happy to learn that you so much enjoy being beaten,” said 3liss Leigh, smiling. “You think I shall soon have (hat o.ijoymcnt again ?” said 31 iss Eustace, “and I shall, indeed, unless I pay more attention to the gam .” For a full hour from this time they ma le their moves in perfect silence—victory sometimes lean ing to the one side, sometimes to the otlu r Tim two gentlemen were as much interested as the fan antagonists; but they had taken differ at sides— Air. Atkins’sympathies all being enlisted for Miss Eustace—3lr. Chauncey’s, of course, for Aliss Leigh. Both, however, were too gentlemanly to express their feelings by word or sign. But at length the game seemed drawing to a ( lose, and again in Miss Leigh’s favor, when a skilful move on Miss Eustace’s part, turned the whole face of the battle. Miss Leigh, however, seemed not a ware of it, so intent was she on the mancevre she had been performing. But Mr. Chauncey’s heart beat quick, as he saw all her danger; and when she plaeed her fingers on a piece, to have moved which would have decided her fate at once, his self-commanded forsook him, and uttering an em phatic. “Ah!” he turned suddenly from the table. He could not endure to witness her defeat! Miss Leigh suspended her movement, but she was too much excited to sec clearly, and alter a momentary pause, she made the fatal move. The next instant she saw her error—it was too much-.- and at the moment when 3lr. Chauncey resumed his post, with a flaming cheek and flashing eyes, she swept her a'rm across the table, exclaiming— “l will never play another game of chess while I live!” 31iss Eustace looked up with an expression of ahxiety on her features; Mr. Atkins with one of undisguised displeasure ; while the countenance of Mr. Chauncey spoke amazement and conster nation. Miss Leigh instantly left the table, and walked toward the fire, followed by Miss Eus tace. “Who is the victor to-night, Abby ?” inquired 3lrs. Atkins, raising her eyes from her book. “Neither,”" said Miss Eustace, in a very solt and low tone; “we did not finish the game.” “Youkno\V better, Miss Eustace!” said 3liss Leigh ; “you know you were yourself victorious, and I will never play another game of chess w hile I live!” Her voice, though but slightly raised, had the tone of passionato excitement; and her w ords were scarcely uttered, ere she burst into a paroxism of tears. Miss Eustace again looked up with an expression of distress—stood suspended a moment as if in doubt what to do, and then si lently left the room. I “Are you petrified?” said 3lr Atkins, asbe turned FLORENCE, GA. FRIDAY, MAY 23, 1838. round, and observed 3lr. Chauncey, standing im moveable beside the chess-table, liis eves rivctvd upon it, Ihe question of 3lr. Atkins roused him, and drawing out his watch, he said, while his voice be trayed much emotion— “lt is later than I thought—l must bid you good night!” , “< >, not yet, Horace,” said Mr. Atkins. ‘fThat unlucky game of chess lias engrossed the whole evening.. Come, sit down. Susan will throw a side her bock—Augusta will get over her defeat— and w e will have some rational conversation.” “\ou will excuse me this evening,” said 3lr. Chatineey, slid uttering a hasty “good night,” he left the room. Jfc was scarcely conscious of any thing until he found himscil m lus own chamber at his board ing house. Storing the decaying embers that lav on the heartlt to make tlnqn burn more brightly, lie snatched the lately written letter from his pock et. and laid it upon them, lie watched it as it consumed, until the jart particle was reduced to asn-'s, and then, drawing a long breath, lie uttered an emphatic—“ Thank heaven!” An hour afterwards he rang the bell for a ser vant, gave some directions, and at five the next morning, while the stars were vet bright in the lieuveue he took a seat in the mail-coach, that whirled him rapidly away from the scene of ins danger. “Y hat has become of 3lr. Chauncey?” inquir ed 31 rs. Atkins, the second evening after the de cisive game of chess had been played—“He is staying from us much longer than usual, I think.” Miss Leigh looked up with a face of anxious inquiry, as Mr. Atkins replied— “lndeed i don’t know what has become of him. I have not had a sight of him since Tuesday eve ning. Perhaps,” he added, laughing, perhaps he died ul the fright you that night gave him, Au gusta!” Coloring the deepest crimson, while the tears forced tneinselves to her eyes, 31iss Leigh re plied— “At least my hasty temper will frighten all your friends from your house, 3lr. Atkins, shouid its effects not prove any more fatal. U, could my friends know luiw much mv ungovernable pas sions cost me, they would tat a as much as they blame me!” do not talk of it, dear Augusta,” said 3liss Eustace, taking her hand. “Forget it all, as we do—or remember it only to strive after more self command for the future. You remember how mill'll we admired the sentiment we read yester day— ‘tjui salt so posseder pent commander an monde,’ “U, yes—but all my efforts at self-possession are u.-cless,” said Aliss Leigh, almost sobbing— “l can never remember till it is too late; and then mortification and self-upbraiding are my just re wind. 1 would give tlie world, Abby,” she ad ded, as she parted the hair from her Irieiuls's pla cid brow— “1 would give the world, had 1 your equanimity of temper!” “Well, let us talk no more of it,” saiJ 3lr. At kins. “To-morrow 1 will look after the truant, a . I learn the cause of liis absence.” tie had scarcely done speaking, when a servant brought in the letters and papers which had just arrived hy the until. Looking them over, 3lr. Atkins caught up one, exclaiming*— “This is curious!—this must be Horace’s hatid writiug, and the post mark is Boston !” “Pray open it,” cried Mrs. Atkins—“ What does he say ?” “Why, he says,” answered Air. Atkins, after rapidly running ih letter over—♦‘lie says that lie writes to bid us a ‘good-live,’ that he could not come to utter in his own person.” “Good-bye!” cried Mrs. AUius—“pray when did he iea\ e town ?” “At five the next morning after he left us,” said 31 r. Ai kins. “And how long is he to be absent ?” Mrs. At kins inquired. “Uncertain,” answered her hu.hand. “The length ol ins absence will depend ou circumstances. Perhaps we shall not see him again these three months.” “This is very singular!” remarked Airs. Atkins. “Does he say what called him away in such liastc, to be gone torso long a period !” “Not a word. The letter seems to have been w ritten in great haste. I have never seen such a scroll come from beneath Horace’s hand. He must have been in great haste.” 3lr. Atkins then proceeded to open other letters, and nothing further was said of Mr. Chauncey, or his abrupt departure. Vet a glance at the faces of the trio of ladies would have proved that the sub ject was not dismissed from their thoughts. 3lrs. Atkins, with half-closed eyes, sat looking at the fire, with an air of abstraction which showed that she was endeavoring to unravel the enigma. Miss Leigh’s features wore an expression of blank dis appointment; and after an unsuccessful attempt to conceal or control her feelings, she retired to her chamber. The heightened color in Aliss Eus tace's cheek was the only thing about tier face flint bespoke emotion; but an eye, fixed intently on the frill that fell over her bosom, would have seen with what force and rapidity her heart was beating. “Gone!” said Miss Leigh, as she closed the door of her chamber; “Gone for three months! From me—forever! The die is cast!” She wept in the bitterness of disappointment and mortifica tion. She had for many days been hourly expect ing the offer of liis hand—tlie hand she most strongly w ished to possess. She had felt confident of hia attachment—she had told her cousin of her expectations. She had read his affection, his ad miration, in his eyes, in the tone of his voice.— Had she been deceived! Had he tried to deceive her ? O, no—Horace Chauncey was above deceit. He had loved her! —but like a fool—or rather, like a fury, she had forced him from her ! It must have been so—that game of chess had sealed her tkte! Such was the train of thought that accom panied her tumultuous and i ptnpun.' ious feelings. let-pence, her happiness, her self-respect were gone; and the ujo>t bitter drop in her cup of sor row, was the foil consciousness that she had brought on her own misery—that she deserved her tv retched ness ! 1 rom this period, all enjoyment of her visit to Mrs. Atkins was at an end.’ She dragged out a w » ek or two, every solitary moment of which was spent in bitter sclf-ujibrading, and then took an abrupt departure for home. Jlis« Eustace would bate aeeompained her, but to this Mrs. Atkins would not listen for a moment. “No, no, Abby,” said she; “it must not be! 1 cannot part with you both at once : and one day must not be taken from the time that your mother allotted for your visit, unless by providential appointment. “\\ horn suppose von I taw alighting from the stage-coach just now?” said Mr. Atkins with much animation, as ho cairn* in to tea one evening, about a forinight after Miss Leigh’s departure. “Horace (’hauuccv,” said Airs. Atkins. “Horace Chauncey !” repeated Air. Atkins— “ How came you to think of him ?” “Because there is no one likely to arrive here, whom 1 should be so glad to see,” Airs. Atkins replied. “Well, you are correct in your conjecture,” said Mr. Atkins. “It was Horace, and lie lias promised to look in upon us for a few minuses in the course of the evening. But you need not look so much moved, Abby; for I dare say nothing will happen to d.ive him away to night.” “ There is nothing pleasant in the recollection of the last time I saw him," said Aliss Eustace. She blushed as slm was speaking at the disiugen nousness which led her to permit Air. Atkins to ascribe her emotion to a wrong cause. She felt as if, “L'art le plus innocent, tient de la perfidie.” But it was not art—it was nature. The love in a woman s heart likes not to be looked upon, at least not until it may with propriety be expressed. It is a little treasure which stlc feels to lie all her own; a treasure she lias a right to conceal from all eyes. J imidity, delicacy natural female reserve, are the <niuses of tlu.- concealment, rather than want of in tie nuousf less. In the most perfect solitude she would blush to doth-.' in sound the words “I love,” though slie ringht constantly lie conscious of the fact— constantly have her eye fixed on the image of the beloved object engraven on her heart.— 'The woman who can, til a third person,’ speak In dy of her love, loves not as woman is capable of loving! As expected, Mr. Chauncey came in before the evening was far advanced,and though on his first ap p ara; cc, his manner was not quite as t aint ; n 1 col fected as usual, his embarrassment soon wore away, and liis visit, instead of being one of a few min utes, was lengthened to it couple of hours. “You need no new invitation to favor us with frequent visits, Mr. Chauncey,” said Mrs. Atkins, as he was taking leave; those you formerly re ceived were for life.” Notwithstanding tlie kindness and delicacy of this remark, Mr. Chauueey for a while was less frequently to be seen at his friend’s than formerly. He was not a pining lover; but he had received a shock from which he could not at once recover, liis was not a heart that could long continue to love, after the beloved object had ceased to com mand his respect. To marly Miss Leigh, to look to her to make his home the abode of peace, se renity, and joy, was impossible; and after this full conviction of his judgment, to spend his time in sighing for her loss would be puerile. Yet apart from every selfish consideration, he did mourn, that a woman g .ssessing such qualities as she pos sessed, and who might be all that the heart or the judgment could require, should be spoiled by the indulgence of one baneful passion. Even at the time when he yielded himself most completely to Aliss Leigh's attractions, the con trast between her temper and that of Miss Eus tace would force itself upon him. At the moment of the destruction of the pyramid, the feather screen came fully before his memory, and the dif ferent expressions of the two young ladies’ faces, when Air. Atkins ventured to propose some im provement in the mode of wearing their riding caps, were vividly ;>■ tnted to his imagination. He strove, however, to persuade himself, that it was unreasonable to expect in one persona combina tion of all the excellent and lev « ly qualities that are divided among the sex ; and he endeavored to believe, that candor which was so ready to acknow l edge a fault, was even more desirable than uniform sweetness of temper. But the veil bad been rude ly torn from his eyes; liis sophistry had all been overthrown—and after one struggle, he was hint self again—restored to the full conviction, that one great defect will spoil a character. ' It wasnoHong, however, before Mr. Chauncey’s visits at his friend's house were as frequent as ever, though the character of his enjoyment was chan ged. He was no longer engrossed by one exciting object, and there was anew quietness breathing about his friend’s fire-side, that rendered their rich moral and intellectual pleasures truly delight ful. Formerly his visits had had all the excite ment of pleasure; on returning home he had needed repose; now they had the soothing effect of happiness, and if lie went weary, he returned home refreshed. Durin g several of his earlier visits, Miss Eustace was as silent as she had formerly been ; but grad urlly her friends were drawing her out by addres sing themselves to her,or asking her opinion;and Mr. Chauncey himself was becoming interested in eliciting her remarks. She did not awaken his admiration, like Miss Leigh; but he soon became sensible, that if w hat she said was less shining, it was generally better digested ; and if she had less wit herself, she more heartily enjoyed the wit of others. If he did not leave her society dazzled by her brilliancy, he foun t that w hat she said called forth thought and reflection ; and if her observa tions had less force and fire-tl an her friend’s, they would better hear examination. Her lustre was mild, not overpowering; and her influence upon the heart and mind, like the dews of a summer’s VoL. I. N«. 9. evening descending on the flowers—noiseless, gen' te, inseiisibb—-but invigorating and refresh “•g- That dreamy n collection, too—that strange as sociation of certain expressions of her counten ance with some bygone pleasure, which he had c.x perieuded on their first acquaintance, but which had been lost sight of while lie was engrossed by Aliss Leigh, was returning with increased force upon him, and awakened a peculiar iutesest. It was something undefinabie, untaugible; but still something that gave a throb to the heart whenever it crossed him. Yet so quiet was Miss Eustace’s influence ; so different the feelings she awakened from those excited by Aliss Leigh, that his heart was a captive while he yet suspected not his less of freedom. One rvf>nm? on entering his friend's parlor, he found Aliss Eustace alone, Mr. and Mrs. Atkins having gone out for an hour. She was standing at a window, partially screened from view by the heavy folds of the window-curtain. She took no notice of lii.s entrance, supposing it one of tlm family who came in; but he immediately joined her remarking— “i’ou seem lost in thought, Miss Eustace.— Will you permit me to participate in your reflec tions ?” “I was looking forth on the beauties of the even ing,'* said Aliss Eustace. It was a glorious night. The moon, clear as a pearl, was riding high in the heavens, and looking downjoti the earth, seemed hushed to perfect peace; and every star could make itself visible in the pres ence of the queen of night, was sparkling like a diamond, “It is indeed a night to awaken admiration, and inspire poetry,” said Mr. Chauncey. “Has ru.-t the muse visited you ?" “I believe not,” said Miss Eustace. “The influence of such a night on my heart is like iha’ of music; 1 think it is feeling not thought, that it inspires. O, could one communicate feelings without the intervention of- words—could thoy throw them on paper without the mechanical drudgery of expressing them, what a volume would tin relic to read!” She raised her lace towards him while speakiug, beaming with the inspiration of the soul. ~Wlio is it! what is it! that you are perpetually bringing athwart my imagination—my memory?” sal.« Mr. Chauncey, abruptly. “1 seem to have had pre-existence, in which you were known to me!” Aliss Eustace made no reply. T lie suddenness of the question made heart beat fumultory—pain fully ; and intensity of her; feeling produced a sensation of faintness; but she supported her* self against the window-frame, and her agitation was unnoticed. “I have it—that must be it!” exclaimed Mr. Chauncey, after a moment’s abstraction—“Gcu Gardner .'—Years ago, when quite a boy, 1 spent a w eek at his house. He had a lovely little daughter leer name, too, was Abby—l have neither seen nor heard from her since; but she strongly resembled you ! The same lovely expression animated her features! Am I not right?” Scarcely able to command voice enough to speak, Aliss Eustace replied—“l believe Gen. Gardner never had a daughter.” “O, you must be mistaken said Mr. Chaun cey. “It has all come as fresh to my memory as the events of yesterday. My father went a long journey, took uie w ith him as far as the General’s and left me until liis return. I was with his lovely little daughter, daily, for a week; and remember asking her before 1 came away, if she would not be my wife when she became a woman!” “Most true !” thought Miss Eustace, trembling from head to foot, “and you followed the question by a kiss.” “Y'ou are acquainted w ith t! e General’s family ” continued Mr. Chauncey, “and yet you say he never had a daughter! 15ut you must be mista ken ! lie certainly had one tlien, if lie lias one no longer!” “I cannot be mistaken, sir,” said Miss Eus tace, in tones that were scarcely audible, “as I have passed much of my time there from in fancy.” “Then it was yourself,” cried Mr. Chauncey, “your own self that I saw there! Am I not right ?. Do you not remember it ?” “I do,” Miss Eustace had just voice enough to utter. “And did you remember me w hen we first met here ?” inquired Air. Chauncey, with eager ness. “I did,” said Miss Eustace. “And why,” he cried, “why did you never speak of our former acquaintance ? Why could you not kindly recall my early enjoyment of your society ?” Miss Eustace could make no answer. Sh* felt as if about to betray her heart’s most hidden se cret ; ns if Air. Chauncey would read her whole soul, should she attempt to utter a syllable. Her trembling limbs could no longer support her, and with an unsteady motion she crossed the room, and seated herself on the sofa. The attachment of Miss Eustace to Mr. Chaun cey was rather an instinct than a passion. She w as but eight years old w hen she met him at Gen. Gardner’s, and she had never seen him since, until they met at Mr. Atkins’ ; yet tlie little attentions he then paid her, which were the very first she had received from one of the other sex, and which had peculiar delicacy for the attentions of a youth of sixteen, made an indelible impression on her feelings. The strange question lie asked her was ever awake in her heart—the kiss he imprinted ever warm on her cheek ! She would have felt it profanation to have had it displaced by one from any other lips. But though she had never sinen seen, she had very frequently Jhcard of him ; and the sound of his name, a name she herself never uttered, was ever music to her car; and for the ten lung years during w hich they had been separa ted, his image had filled her whole soul. For Ab by Eustace to have loved another would have bee** impossible! Her love for Horace Chauncey 1*43 % part of her very being!