BY GARDNER & BARROW.
THE GEORGIA MIRROR,
Is published every Saturday, in Florence,
Stewart county, Ga. at fHREK DODLARS a
year, if paid in advance, or I Ol K DOLLARS,
it' not paid itutil the end of the year.
Advertisements w ill be conspicuously inserted
at One Dollar per square, (15 lines) the first, and
50 cents for each subsequent insertion. Nothing
under 15 lines will be considered less than a
square. A deduction will be made for yearly ad
All advertisements handed in for publication
without v limitation, will be published till forbid,
and charged accordingly.
Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad
ministrators and Guardians, are required by law
to be advertised in a public Gazette, sixty days
previous to the day of sale.
The sale of Personal property must be adver
tised in like manner forty days.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an csßite
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will ), 0 made to the
Court of Ordinary (or lc ; ‘.Ve to sell Land and Ne
groes, must be published weekly for four months.
([T* All Letters on business must be cost
run to insure attention.
JOB PRINTING. ~
(1 ONXECTED w ith thej office of the MIR-
J ROR, is a splendid assortment of
And we arc enabled to exeute all kind of Job work,
in the neatest manner and at tho shortest notice.
of every description will constantly be kept on
hand, such as
SHERIFF’S BILLS OF SALE,
\nd a great many others for Justices of the
Peace, Administrators, Executors, Arc.
~ a nTact "
ryio incorporate the town of Florence, in the
1 county of Stewart, and appoint Commis
sioners tor the same :
Sec. 1. lie it enact’d by the Senate and House
of Representatives of the State of Georgia, in gen
eral Assembly met , and it is hereby enacted by the
authority of the sa n-, That from and after the pas
sage of this act, Asaph R. llill, Thomas Gardner,
AselP. Rood, Joseph M. Miller and Benjamin
Gardner are hereby appointed Commissioners for
the Town of Florence, in the county of Stewart,
and they, ora majority ot them, and their succes
sors in office, shall have power and authority to
pass all laws and ordinances which they, or a ma
jority of them may deem expedient and necessary
for the well government and good order ot said
Town: Provided, said bye-laws and regulations
are not repugnant to the Constitution and Laws
of this State.
Sec. 2. And be it further enacted by the author
ity of 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 are entitled to vote for Members to the
State Legislature, shall assemble at the Commis
sioners’ room in said town, and by ballot elect live
'•commissioners who shall continue in office for one
year, anJ until their successors are elected, at
which election one or more magistrates shall pre
side; and incase of resignation, removal or death
of auy of said Commissioners, the remaining
Commissioners shall have power to fill such va
cancy for the time being.
Sec. 3. And be it further enacted by the authori
ty aforesaid, That the corporate authority and ju
risdiction of said Commissioners shall include the
w hole of lot No. ninety and all of fractions Nos.
eighty-nine and eighty-eight.
Sec. 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.
Sec. 5. And be it further enacted by the author
ity aforesaid, That the inhabitants of said Town
shall be free from road duty without the limits of
said Corporation. All laws and parts of laws mil
stating against this act be and the same are hereby
Speaker of the House of Representatives.
‘ ROBERT M. ECHOLS,
President of the Senate.
Assented to, 14th December, 1837.'
GEORGE R. GILMER, Governor.
Secretary of State’s Office, ?
Milledgeville, 19 th April , 1838 \
1 certify that the foregoing is a true copy from
the original of file in this office.
Given under my hand and seal of office.
WM. A. TENNILLE,
THE Subscriber has Just received, and is now
opening afresh stock of Groceries at Millers
old stand, on Centre Street, one door from Broad
Street— consisting of various articles in the Groce
ry line, which he offers at whole sale or retail on
reasonable terms, for cash only. His friends and
the public generally are invited to call and examine
h'r themselves, * WM. STAFFORD.
From the Saturday Evening Post.
THE DRUNKARD’S SONG/
Oh ! luxury of luxuries,
Thou quiutescence of rye,
And life of little “potaties,”
1 love ye when I’m dry.
How noble must that mind have been,
That this invention sought,
And from the very food of hoses
Has such perfection brought.
Oh ! whiskey, whiskey, who can tell,
The joys thou caust impart.
All sober feelings thou canst quell,
And make a merry heart.
I’ve strove iu vain, such joys to find
As whiskey can afford,
For when I’m three sheets in (he wind,
I’m happy as a lord,
E’en when my wife is in despair,
And children starving cry,
The sight 1 veiy w ell can bear,
While a drop is in my eye.
Then give me whiskey, let me swill,
And care and trouble fly,
And when I get dead drunk I’ll stop
Till I again am dry.
I’m always dry, and take a horn
To make blue devils fly.
And when 1 of my strength am shorn,
I’ll swig it where 1 lie.
Tho’ friends have me long since forgot,
Tho’ death his work begins,
Tho' poverty is now my lot,
Filth, rags, and rotten sbuv*.
In this one thing will I rejoice,
My pocket pistol’s full,
“And if I die and go to hell,
I'll take another pull."
If I to all eternity,
Could smile and onward jog,
I swear I would contented be,
A filtliv, stinking hog.
From the Philadelphia J isilcr.
THE GROOMS.M VN,
A tale founded upon incidents in real life.
BY H. N. MOORE, AUTHOR OF “MART MORRIS.”
At the period of her mother's death, Julia Gra
ham was in her eighteenth year; handsome she
was—beautiful. There was a charm and breath
ing of beauty around her, that wo rarely meet
with in the ordinary walks of life. Whe had not
been much in the world—liad not mingled
with the dissipations of fashionable society ; and
was consequently, alive to those softer emotions of
the heart, which the votaries of pleasure so early
sacrifice at the shrine of their follies, ller life
had been passed in retirement, but not in seclusion.
She possessed the requisites of a polished edu
cation, had drank of the waters that (low from th.
pure fouutain of poetry, and classic literature had
found an admirer in her.
Theodore West was her accepted suiter —her
affianced bridegroom. He had wooed with the
smiles of the mother, and the heart of Julia was
his. By strict integrity in his dealings and a close
application to business, he had gained an exten
sive credit, and stood high in the estimation of the
mercantile community. He was at his business
during the hours required; but the time not oc
cupied there, was mostly passed by the side of
Julia, and the evening he always devoted,to her.—
Those of my readers that have themselves expe
rienced the delights of courtship can appreciate
the happiness enjoyed by them.
Mrs. Graham’s funeral was to take place the
third day after her decease. On that mournful
day they were sitting round the corpse, Julia hab
ited in the weed* of sorrow,and relatives endeavour
ing to administer the balm of consolation to her
sorrowing spirit. Low whisperings passed from
one to another, and cautiously silent was the tread
of those that crossed the room as they advanced
to the corpse, looking their last upon the earthly
remains of her who but a short time before was
among them in life. The hour arrived—the un
dertaker. Julia imprinted another, kiss upon the
cold lips of her parent and overcome by the in
tensity of her feelings, she sunk hack into Theo
dore’s arms, who was at her side-. The white
shroud w as closed over and around the corpse, the
lid screwd down, whilst Julia, weeping, sobbing,
was borne to the carriage. Long was the train
that followed to the place of interment, and
sincere were the tears shed over that crave. The
deceased was deposited by the side ot her husband,
in the churchyard of Jst. Peters’ in I‘iue street;
and the sermon delivered on the occasion enumer
ated the virtues of the buried, w hich were audibly
responded to by frequent bursts of sorro w from the
breasts of those assembled. A plain marble tomb,
with a simple inscription thereon, marks the spot
where she rests—and there would the feet of Julia
and Theodore often wander; arm in arm they
would gaze upon the marble, as they thought
of the past and drop the tribute of a tear to the
memory of its occupant.
Summer, autumn and winter passed away.—
Spring returned; and in little more than a year
after her mother’s death, Julia Graham was led to
the alter by one every way capable of rendering a
woman happy. She became the bride of Theo
dore—the wife of his allections; she loved him,
and was loved in return.
Edward Byard, a ccjusin of hers, officiated at
the wedding as groomsman; but for reasons that
shall hereafter be made known, he was opposed
FLORENCE, GA. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1833.
to the union. He however smothered his feelings
at the time, and acquitted himself satisfactorily of
the duties that devolved upon him iu the charac
ter he had taken. Shortly after the nuptials—two
w eeks or so—he announced his determination ot
visiting Europe, and in less than a month started;
where we will leave him for the preseut, and in
troduce the reader to a scene on the banks of the
river Schuylkill, in the month of July, 1826™
a y*ar and more having passed since the wedding
and the departure of Byard. The spot that I
have reference to is in the neighbourhood of
Gray's Ferry. The day had beeu warm, but
was succeeded by a delightful cvcuiug. The
moon was up, the innumerable stars shone out,
and the breeze from the river was redolent w ith
fruit and flow ers- Ann iu arm Mr. West and his
" ife were wandering—over the lawn, by the river,
through the grove, and down by the glen, whilst
the sound of the boatman’s limn at intervals was
heard, and the whippoorwill’s note mingled upon
the ear with the dashing of w aters. Thus were
they wandering so quietly, fondly—and such the
scene around them; when all at once the music
of a flute was wafted to their ears. Both stood
still to listen, nor ever had they listend to any
thing equal, or iu comparison, to the sounds that
now floated through the air. Its silvery tones
would swell till the feelings of the hearers were
w rought up to an almost painful extacy, and then,
as if aware of its magical influence, would gradually
subside into those soft and tremulous notes, fainter,
and fainter, till the enraptured auditors were start
led at the sudden conclusion of the tune.
“Beautiful I” the wife exclaimed, as turning
out of the grove in which they stood to listen,
they advanced into the view of their mansion,
upon which the moonlight shone, and saw the
figure of a man, who immediately darted into the
clustering foliage of some shrubbery at his side,
and disappeared. On account of the distance
that intervened, it was impossible to distinguish
the person I was singular—who was he / —what
did he want there ?
“Who can it be?” said Julia, leaning on the
arm of her husband as they approached the house.
“Indeed, love, 1 cannot conjecture,” was his
affectionate reply, assisting her up the steps as he
spoke, for they were now at the door. They fil
tered the house, and shortly afterwards retired for
the night. Before asleep though, they heard the
strings of a guitar, and immediately beneath their
w indow a manly voice, deep-toned, and apparently
sorrowful, sung the words of a popular sentimental
song. This of c--arse served to increase the won
der of Julia and her husband It was strange—
it was mysterious. On the following, morning,
Mr. West inquired of the domestics if any of
them knew the person. Each answered in the
negative; none knew him; they had heard the
music, and seen his person but nothing more.
Theodore was of necessity absent during the
day—in the city attending to his business. On
his return home the next evening, his wife in
formed him that a gentleman of handsome exterior
had been noticed on the premises by the servant
and herself, but was not near enough for her to
see his features with any accuracy. Tea was an
nounced, and they sat down to the evening meal;
afterwards to the piano—and in the mutual en
dearments of domestic happiness, they entirely
forgot the incident. To be sure, there, vva" nofch.-
ing alarming—nothing to be apprehended; but it
was singular that a man should to loitering about.
Rising from the piano, the happy couple left the
parlour and retired to the privacy of their own
Chamber —where walking out upon the balcony
in front, th y seated themselves to pass the social
hour of love and contemplation. The moon, the
stars, the shilling river, and the distant view, were
mingled on the sight, whilst the city's hum and
tiie noise of busy thousands assailed the ear. The
city itself was seen by them, as the moonlight lay
sleeping upon its roofs, its domes, its steeples and
its towers. The balcony extended from a level
with their chamber, aud around the pillars that
supported it, flowery creeper entwined its delicate
foilage—the rose the jasnyne, and the violet, too,
commingling- A paradise—the very place-for love?
Theodore sat half-reclining, and Julia reposed
with her head upon his bosom—his arms encir
cling her—and oft the long, the lingering kiss—
so pure—which only those that really love can
appreciate. They were really happy ! 1 leaven had
smiled upon their union; and anew tie was upon
the eve of being added to their bliss.
But hark! music—soft music—the tones of the
flute are again heard ! At a distance at first, but
as it nenrefl, more distinct was the melody, and it
was evidently the same heard the night previous.
“How beautiful, how sweetly played”—cried
the wife, enraptured, while Theodore fondled her
to his breast, where she nestled like the dove to
the caresses of its mate.
“Tis beautiful,” said the husband—“like your
self,” he compliineutarily continued, smoothing
back the ringlets from her brow, and gazing with
admiration on the countenance of her whose guilt
less bosom heaved for him, and him alone.
The music continued —low, like the whispering
under-tone of the human voice, like the quiet
quivering of the aspen leaf, at first—then dying
away till scarcely audible---and now bursting upon
the startled ear—full—swelling—melodious! As
it ceased, the voice was heard again, but not ac
companied with the guiti * as it was the evening
previous. Clear and distini t iu. manly tones camt
upon the breeze, and Juba listened—intensely—
almost breathless. She gr ually rose from her
husband’s side and lean vrd over the bal
cony—anxiously—eager > . ming her eye
sight to catch a glimse of : oculist. The sound'
of his voice directed her <*s to tbc spot, but he
was offbctually conceal * >y a cluster of trees,
w hose spreading branch intercepted the rays of
the moon. The curio? y, or rather the interest,
exaited in her breast, rose to an extraordinary
height—ao much so i lee- 4 ‘flat it began to sur
prise her husband. lit ...U not account for it.
There seemed to be more in her manner than ad
miration only. Perhaps she knew who the singej
was. It might be be so. If she did, why not tell
her husband. What motives could she have in
concealing it ?
The song ceased, and was in a minute or two
afterwards heard receding iu the distance.—
Julia listened till the sound was entirely lost, aud,
as it was by this time after midnight, expressed her
wish to retire. They did so, and us Theodore
laid his head upon the pillow, with her’s beside
him, it was not altogether with as happy a heart
as usual. Suspicions was awakened iu his
lßi.irt. lie doubted. Julia was shortly lost
in slumber—the sweet sleep thit nature re
quires—but he was awake. Cautiously disenga
ging himself from her arms, which were around
his neck, he rose, and slipping on a loose undress
w alked out upon the balcony again—there to gaze
at the heavens and indulge in his thoughts. With
eyes upturned, his check resting on his hand, over
the railing of the balcony was he leaning—sad—
sorrowful. An hour passed, aud still he was there;
another—-‘there he was still—his face buried in
his hands aud his heart subdued with grief. A
light foot step was heard behind him—Julia was
there. She had missed him from her side, risen
from Led, and hurried to the balcony in alarm,
where she found him—but in tears—weeping.
“Why is this, Theodore,” she hurriedly asked
in a trembling tone. “Why thus expose yourself
to tlie cold night air?” She hung around him —
fondly—freely—but he returned not her carress,
ami the coldness of his mannersliot through liar
heart a pntig of inexpressible anguish. “What does
this mean ?” she continued. “Why leave your
pillow ? what has discomposed your mind ? You
are weeping! alas! am I the cause?”
He answered not.
“Your silence implies it—l am the cause—”
she exclaimed. “But in what, let me ask? what
have I done 1 Speak—let me know—”
“Nothing!” she repeated. “Why do you
speak so coli.lv to me ?” Here her utterance
ehoaked. and her eyes filled with tears. “Nothing,
do you say—then why do you use me thus ?”
“Use you thus! how ?”
This was enough—she said no more, but sunk
back in a swoon, exhausted - overcome by the unu
sual excitement her feelings had undergone. The
paleness of death spread over her face instead of
the rose-like bloom that usually tinged her cheeks.
Her eyes closed—and,—but for the heaving of her
bosom as she respired, it seemed as if life was ex
“What have I done!” cried Theodore, accu
sing himself at once with the blame. “What
have 1 done ? alas—Julia—love revive, or 1 shall
go wild with affright and dread!” Loud were his
cries for the servants, who came around him fright
ened from their beds, and, ascertaining the alarm,
carried their mistress in. One of them hurried
fora neighbouring physician, and before morning
Mrs West’s accouehmcnt took place, giving birth
to a daughter. ,
And now, all her husband’s former tenderness
was renewed—-his momentary jealous forgotton.
Nothing was left undone by him that could possi
bly attend to alleviate her sufferings. He was
again the fond—the feeling husband'. Confi
dence was restored between them. Unpleasant
recollections were hushed, aud tho sum of hap
piness again shone out, as bright as ever, upon
tlie fortunes and home of the happy pair.
The day subsequent to this event, information
, was brought, to.tlty- mansion that Byard was home
again—returned from Europe.
Six weeks glided by Mr. West returned to his
business ip the city v and was regularly at home in
the evening—as soon as possible, always. All his
joys were centered in Julia—-she was to him like
the star that guided the wise men of the east—she
influenced all his exertions, and not an hour in
ilu- day did he sutler to pass without his thoughts
reverting to her and the child. The incident of
the flute, and that of the singing was thought of
no more—neither was repeated. Maternal ten
derues occupied much of Julia’s time, and new
emotions were kindled in her heart as she fondled
her little offspring to her breast. And whilst it
lay sleeping in her snns, or rocked in its cradle—
she watched by its side, unwearied, unceasingly.
Thus was tlie stream of their existence flowing
on, midst flowers and shade as it were—when
again the demon, of jealousy was roused in the
husband's bosom, fierce in denunciations—pas
sionate,— M*'-xorable! From calm, to storm—a
sudden transition. To her it was inexplicable.—
Wliat had c aused it ? Something he had heard.
What was it ? Whatever it was, deep w ithin his
breast rankled—boiling-raging—and, causing th»
frequeut emission of auger and passionate bursts,
w hich might be comparatively spoken of as re
sembling the awful eruptions of Etna or Vesu
vius in the fury of their volcanic fires. At first
they were indulged in only when andt where they
could not be audible to the cars of auy —in secret
His first extraordinary movement was the win
ding up of his business, llis pecuniary circum
stances were affluent, his profits iu commerce
large, and it was indeed, to be wondered at that at
such a time he should relinquish trade. But he
did so—sold his house in town, converted his cap
ital into real estate, mortgages, ice. aud expressed
his determination of residing entirely at his seat
on the Schuylkill, where at preseut he was pas
sing the siyiytqer.
The officious world is ever ready to praise or
condemn. .Judging from a momentary impulse,
it unhesitatingly passes the opinion w ith w hich it
is first impressed—without consideration—with
out inquiring the cause. When particulars are
not at once revealed, it is sure to suppose the
worst—always; when at the same time causes
diametrically opposite may have transpired to
produce the effects. Ilis friehds, acquaintances
and - relatives, all objected to the course he was
pursuing. They were certain he would re
repent it they said. Retirement had ite charms
they acknowledged—but for those advanced in
years, not for the young, the gay-hearted. Thus
would they reason w ith him, but they felt not as
lie. did—they felt not the convulsive pangs and
conflicting throes that agitated his. breast. It is
easy to give advice—is it as easy to follow it?
But his wife —for her falls the tear of pity as I
Vol. I.—No. 11.
write, whilst of her sorrows I think, and \Vith a
tremulous hand continue this page. How chan
ged was her husband—how altered from what lie
w-as! No longer lie displayed the tenderness and
warmthwith which he usually returned her cares
ses—hut haughty and distant was his manner and
unmeaningly fixed on her was the hitherto ex
pressive glance of his eye. For a long time sh«
endured it rather than upbraid; but at last it sunk
deep within her heart, there to canker. Heroical
ly she had stemmed the torrent of her feelings,
but finally sunk under it—w ashed upon the beach
of her expiring hopes—not drowned—!-,t
tally insensible. Ido not mean that her r . i
was affected, but that indifference and regie t _b
his part had blunted it. A drowned person may
be taken from the wetex, and the vital spam iz *»
all appearance extinct, hut by the appli -f
resuscitatory powers, circulation of »lic i :.
restored, and tlie inanimate ’’em- railed • nek “
the busy throng of active life. ’ in.? :*
her; her ardent love for Theodor - .
long supported her, was now i:. , ••* ‘
but ready at any moment t await- w: • ...
its former energy, if called to life by him.
In order to shelter her reputation hem the
blight of calumny, and to hurl back on het tv. .’. -
ccrs the arrows directed against herself, Mr.
West hail repeatedly demanded of Theodore the
nature of her oflence, since offended she had
lie invariable shunned a positive answer, to some
other object i:e would revert, or else abruptly leavo
her to herself, in silence and alone, w eeping. “Oh
that my heart would break, and end its miseries
at once!” she would exclaim at moments like
these, as with clasped hands and eyes upturned to
heaven, she stood, pale and motionless like a
stature —like Niobe in tears. “Why am I doomed
to this ?—this cruel neglect this cold indifference
of his?” she would repeat. “Iu what am I cul
pable ? I have asked him to tell me-—to explain his
strange behav eur; time after time I have, but he baa
ever turned to me a deaf ear, and treated my in
quiries with silent contempt. I’ve borne it w ith
pious resignation; suffered, endured and wept,
day after day of wretchedness I’ve passed, aud
sleepless nights of misery; all—all—-and amidst
it not one kind word have 1 received lrom him!”
A cs frequently had she asked him—entreated,
implored and prayed to share the sorrows of his
heart. Around his neck she would throw her
arms, imprint upon his lips the hiss of eager, love,
and by every tenderness persuade. But there’!
a time when forbearance ceases to be a virtue; w hen
to endure is to sin ; and that crisis had now arrived
in the sufferings of Julia; for her to suffer lon
ger, was to do wrong. She had done all in her
power—all that she could do—and her resolution
was fixed to plead w ith him no more. The smiles
of hei daughter, the infant Julia, were the only
smiles she met. She became an object of sus
picion to the domestics of thcestablishmcut cveu,
with the exception of old Margaret, the house
keeper. For when in her presence, they silently
surveyed her w ith glances of doubt and diffidence,
considering her a guilty woman. Her husband
became worse and worse daily. To his lij»f he
raised the intoxicating cup, and drunk of it; whilst
in secret he no longer vented his passions, but at
any moment aud before any eye. What a
change!—what a source of regret!—how differ
ent from the happy pair w? have previously des
cribed them! ll*. a- drunkard and she—broken
It was now the month of October, nearly threg
months having passed since the birth of her child-
And here let me resume the narrative.
“Manuel,” said Mr. West, aihlressing one ot
llis servants, one on whom he had conferred in
numerable favors, and whom lie honoured with
his particular confidence. “Manuel”—
“Sir,” responded tlie other, entering the room
where liis master was seated, and standing at his
“Have you seen her?”
“Where is she!”
“In her chamber, reading.”
“And the child—where is it ? w ith her—or ha«
the nurse charge of it ?”
“Tis asleep in its mother’s arms.”
There was a short pause. The servant stood
at liis side, whilst tlie questioner leaned backfliis
chair shading his eyes with the palm ot Id* hand,
and a long drawn sigh escaped from his bosom.
“You have seen nothing further, have you ?"
“Watch her, and bring me word immediately
if you perceive any thing more.”
“A glass of w ine—quick.”
The serveut- obeyed, poured out tlie wine, han
ded it to his master, and at a draught the glass was
drained of its contents, then returned to the do
mestic, who restored it to its place on the side
“Now leave me; I w ish to be alone—alone w ith
my thoughts—alone w ith my misery !” he said.
As he spoke he sunk back into a reverie, with
his eyes closed and his hand over his luce. Man
uel left, closing the door after him as he departed
from the room, and went to the chamber of Mrs-
West, where he found her—but not unexpected
ly-engaged. i« packing into a small trunk several
articles of wear. He entered the apartments so
stealthily that his presence startled her, and she'
Uttered iiis name w ith surprise !
“Hush—not so loud—” whispered ' i'.nuel,
“or ekse we may be overheard. \ ou’f - -- r
at the time appointed, will you?”
“Yes—you re sure the boat will be v> ~ ;
the spot ?”
“It w;iU,’ r
“And the carriage on the -_rh:s eld. c: :..e
“Yes; at eleven o’clock - “ .
window—come down imu.edia •
duct you to the boat.”
“But the trunk—”
‘.‘Tip a small one, and if you drop '<* - -
window I can aesily catch it. Rerneiut ei at
“I’ll nos forget.”
Left to herself, Mrs, West continued packing