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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 vertisements. 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. U'&AWJLzh of every description will constantly be kept on hand, such as INDICTMENTS, DECLARATIONS, SUiiPtENAS, JURY SUMMONSES, EXECUTIONS. COST EXECUTIONS. SHERIFF’S BILLS OF SALE, do DEEDS, LAND DEEDS, JUS. SUMMONSES, do EXECUTIONS, MORTGAGES, LET. ADMINISTRATION, do TESTAMENTARY, do GUARDIANSHIP, \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 repealed. JOSEPH DAY, 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. CHUMS. 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.” CHAPTERk 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.” “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 tinct. “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. CHAPTER lit. 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 —in solitude. 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 hearted! 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 side.. “Have you seen her?” “Yes, sir.” “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 ?" “No. sir—nothing.” “Watch her, and bring me word immediately if you perceive any thing more.” “I will.” “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 board. “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 river?” . “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 <?d!” “I’ll nos forget.” Left to herself, Mrs, West continued packing