The Georgia mirror. (Florence, Ga.) 1838-1839, July 07, 1838, Image 1
BY GARDNER & BARROW XJIK GEORGIA TIISBKOR, f s published every Saturday, in b lorence, *ewart county, Ga. at THREE DODLARS a vear, if paid in advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, ■ f not paid until the end of the year. Ydvk'.u'iskmknts will lie conspicuously inserted -it One Dollar per square, (15 lines) the first, and 50 cents for each subsequent insertion. Nothing n lor 15 lines w tll be considered less than a iirc . A deduction will be made for yearly ad ertisements. YU advertisements handed in for publication without t 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 tise' 1 in 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 lor leave to sell Land and Ne ,-rui s, must be published weekly for four months. Q'J*' AH Letters on business must be i*os taid to insure attention. JOB PRINTING. (CONNECTED with the office of the MIR j ROR, is a splendid assortment of Ynd wc are enabled to excute all kind of Job work, m the neatest manner and at the shortest notice. of every description will constantly be kept on hand, such as INDICTMENTS, DKCLAR AT IONS, S UR Pi ENAS, JURY SUMMONSES, EXECUTIONS. COST EXECUTIONS. SHERIFF’S BILLS UP SALE, do DEEDS, LAND DEEDS, JUS. SUMMONSES, do EXECUTIONS, MORTGAGES. LET. ADMINISTRATION, do TESTAMENTARY, do GUARDIANSHIP, Ynd a great many others lor Justices of the Peace, Administrators, Executors, die. CAUTION^ IFORNVARN all persons from trading for any of the notes hereinafter described to wit: the amount of S3OO in small notes payable to Crcenß. Bailor bearer, and bearing date some time in this instant; some of the abovs notes arc rrnetl Jeremiah Cults & William Johnson and some signed William Johnson & Jeremiah Cutts; and two notes given by myscll to Harris Dennaul. amounting to $37 and bearing date some tune about the first of this instant; also one given to V . A P,. May for sl7 and some odd cents, bearing date some time about the first ot b ebuary last, and one for $5 bearing date in April or May last gi\en by myself and payable to James Johnson; and many others in the same situation now not recol lected. All of said notes having been paid off and fully settled by me, that they are all illegally detained from my possession, and I am determined not to pay said notes the second time unless compelled by law. WILLIAM JOHNSON. Lumpkin Ga. June 7, 1833. 12 4t STRAYED, From the subscriber in Lumpkin about the first of May last, a BAY FILLY, between two and three years old, she is supposed to be still in the county, any information respecting her will will be thankfully received, or a liberal reward will be given to any person who will deliver her to me. WILLARD BOYNTON. Lumpkin, Ga. June 13,1838 12 ts 'strayed or stolen. A bright BAY MARE, about IjY, '/Aft five feet six inches high, long tail, mr*s m has some white hairs about her right bind foot, no other marks scollected. The said Mare either Strayed or was stolen from my house about the 20th of March. Iny information will be thankfully received or Ten Dollars Reward will lie given for her delivery Jo me, near Roanoke, Stewart County Ga. T. 11. CORBETT. Florence, June 10, 1838 17 12 ten dollars reward. RAYED or Stolen, from the subscribers living two miles below Florence, about the mst of June, adarkbny MARE MULE, rather small, about six years old, no other marks recol lected. Any information respecting said mule "ill be thankfully received, or if delivered to the subsveibers the above reward will be paid. JOHN T. WARREN, CHARLES 11. WARREN. Florence, June 30, 1838 14 2t LAST CALL. A\/"E shall remain in town two weeks longer, ’ * those preferring a settlement with us, to Allonso DeLaunay, Esq. can have the opportuni ty- A. P. ROOD Ai Cos, Florence, June 22, 1838. 13 TOWN COUNCIL. Ordinances of the town of Florence , passed by the Board of Commissioners , June 25, 1838. f board of Commissioners met according jL to adjournment, members present, R. W. Williams, Intendant, Joseph M. Miller, Benj. Gardner and William Stafford.* Ist. For the preservation of good order, and to prevent the annoyance consequent upon persons being intoxicated" in the streets on the Sabbath day, be it therefore Ordained , That no person or persons shall vend any spiritous liquors or any kind of merchan dize on the Sabbath day—any person or persons so ortbnding, shall.forfeit and pay the sum of ten dollars for each and every offence. 2d. And be it farther Ordained , That no slave or slaves shall be permitted to visit the town with out a written permt from his, her or their owner, or from the person or persons having the direction and control of such slave or slaves; and no slave or slaves, unless living in the place, shall be per mitted to remain in town after ten o’clock, with out it be specified in the written permit, under the penalty of receiving thirty-nine lashes on the bare back. 3d. And be it farther Ordained , That any white person or persons trading with any slave or slaves, for articles other than those pointed out by law, shall forfeit and (pay the sum of five dollars for each and every offence, and shall be prosecuted to the extent of the law in such cases made and pro vided. 4th. And be if. farther Ordained , That any per son or persons who shall be found fighting or quarreling within the limits of the corporation, contrary to the good order and peace of the com munity, shall forfeit and pay the sum of not less than Three nor more than Twenty dollars for each and every offence. sth And be it further Ordained , That the Mar shal receive for the correction of any slave which may be sent to him by the owner, or any person or persons having the control or direction of said, slave, the sum of one dollar Ordained , That the Marshall be authorized and required to prevent all unlawful assemblages of individuals, and any and everything calculated to disturb the peace and good order of the com munity. And any person or perrons so offending be brought before the incorporated authorities ol the Town, to be punished at the discretion of the Board. Ordained , That any member of Council who shall be guilty of the violation of any ot the tore going Ordinances, shall pay double the amount imposed on other citizens. It being requisite to raise a revenue to defray the necessary police regulations lor the year 1838, Be it therefore Ordained , That the following rates of Taxation be imposed: On all improved lots in the town of !• lovence, a tax of 12£ cents on every hundred dollars of val ue as returned or assessed. On all unimproved lots in said town a tax of 20 cents on every SIOO assessed or returned. On all goods, wares and merchandise, including drugs, medicines, saddles, bridles, and harness, hoots, shoes, ready made clothing, clocks, watches, precious stones and jewelry of every description, held and kept for sale in the town of Florence, there shall be paid a tax of ten cents on every 100 dollars; the person giving in to swear to the high est amount of stock or merchandize which lie may have had on hand, between the first day of Jan uary, and the eighteenth day of June. On all retailers of spirituous or fermented li quors, in less quantities than one gallon, a tax of ten dollars, and one dollar to the clrr.v in every in stance for a license. On each male white inhabitant of said town, be tween the ages of 16 and 45, a tax ot three dollars as a compensation for road and street dulv. On each practitioner of law anil medicine a tax of three dollars. On each slave liable to road duty, a tax of $3. On each slave not so liable, a tax of 52 cents. On every free male person of color a tax ot £>lo. On every free female person of color a tax of $5. On all pleasure Carriages a Tax of 50 cents per wheel. On all Road Waggons, Jersey Waggons, Carts and Drays a Tax of 12<I cents per wheel. On every Showman and Juggler who shall per form or Exhibit for public amusement, and who charges therefor, a Tax ot ten dollars. On every circus or equestrian company, a Tax of S2O. . On each and every collection of animals or Birds exhibited for money, a Tax of $lO, and all Showmen or Juggler, proprietors of wax figures, animals or Birds, every circus or equestrian com pany, before they shall be allowed to exhibit, must apply to and receive from the Clerk a license for which, besides the before mentioned sum, they and each of them shall pay to the Clerk one dol lar for a license. And be it further Ordained , that the assessor and collector before entering upon the discharge of his duties shall take an oath for the faithful per formance of his duty, and give bond and security, in the sum of three thousand dollars, and that he proceed forwit h’to assess and receive returns ot all property pointed out in the several ordinances and that after giving thirty days notice in the Georgia Mirror, he proceed to collect. Beit further Ordained , that all persons who shall refuse to give in their taxable property shall b double taxed, and after sixty days from the udver tisement of the collector, execution shall issue against all defaulters as in case of Tax for the State. _ _ , R. W. WILLIAMS. Intendant. T. GARDNER. Sec. •Elected in the place of Thomas Gardner, Esq. who resigned at a previous meeting ol the board notice: ALT, persons indebted to the estate of Jesse Wriglit, late of Sumter county, deceased, will come forward and settle the same, anti those having demands will present them in terms eftlie law. NATHAN P. SINGLETARY, May 7 8 Gt Adm'r. FLORENCE, GA. SATURDAY, JULY 7, 1838. - From the Southern Literary JUcsscnecr. SONG. Air, Mrs. McDonalds. Oh tmst not her love, ’twill endure but a day, Like the golden winged butterfly,—child of an hour, Which only can live in the warm sunnv ray, And delights in still roving horn flower to flower. Oh trust not her love, for ’tis not like that star, That in heaven so bright and so steadfastly shines; Ah no, ’tis the moon, though surpassingly fair, That is now at the full, and now waning de clines. Oh trust not her love; how unlike tdthat flower, The emblem to love and to constancy dear, That turns to the sun with each varying hour, And follows her idol throughout his career. Oh trust not her tlove, she will wind the soft chain So closely around every chord of thy heart, That when she proves faithless you’ll struggle in vain From her fair but false bosom to tear it apart. From the Philadelphia Visiter. THE POOR POET OF CRIPPLEGATE. One night, in the melancholy month of Novem ber, as I was sitting in my garret by the side of a fire with very little heat, and a candle with very little light, ruminating on the various follies and pursuits of men, reflecting on the riches of some and the indigence of others; figuring in my mnd the waste, riot, and superfluity of many among us poor mortals, and of my own excessive poverty, sometimes sighing and wishing 1 had strength sufficient for a bricklayer’s labourer, a; o'lt ers my head reclining on my band, my toe tapping and my mind philosophizing on the nature of man, how few his real, how numerous his imaginary wants, and how exceedingly happy arid charitable I could be, if 1 had thirty pounds per year. In the midst, I say, of these my cogitatkns, 1 heard a double rap at the door, just as I was distributing, out of my plenty, half a crown to a blind beggar, and a bone to his dog. My reverie was at an end ; a double rap was uncommon at the door of tlie poor, the rich seldom called there—l listened.— My landlady was gone out, and the intercession for admittance was repeated. I took my candle and ran down stairs. My imagination hurried me away so fast, that 1 forgot my waiscoat was unbut toned, and that my old brown coat had but one lap. I knew not but it might be some lord who had accidently heard of my poverty and merit, and had flown to my relief. There are, doubtless numberless lords and great men who would have done it had they heard of me. It was not their fault. In my haste to get down, one of my old shoe slippers, and my woolen night cap, flew off. The rain that half deluged my garret floor, in formed me that 1 must not stay to e»ther them up, the poor creature at the door would be wet. I opened the door to a young lady—l thought at the first it had been an angel. She started back a lit tle. Indeed 1 had been very ill, and my clothes were not quite so good as 1 could have wished : she advanced, and begged me in a tiembling voice, to be sure it was a sweet one, that I would let her stand in the passage for a moment, and shut the door, for she was apprehensive of being pursued by some rude men, and being a stranger, she knew not how to avoid them. Had she presented me with a roll and a red herring instead of that fair soft hand, it had not been half so welcome, though 1 cannot say hut 1 was very hungry. 1 drew her in, and instantly shut the door. I told her that the people belonging to the house did not happen to be at home, but if she would kindly condescend to walk up into my poor garret she should lie veiy welcome. To be sure, it is but a pool place, con tinued I, but indeed you shall he very welcome Her eyes glistened—she looked as if she had not power to deny my request; she sighed. I led, and she followed. My night cap and slipper were replaced. I handed her the only chair in the room—l was sorry it had not a back. 1 stood by the side of her, and observed her give a timid glance round my poor garret, then turn her head away, wipe her eyes, and smother the rising sigh : Indeed, she was an angel! I began to wish for riches, youth, and beauty, while I gazed upon her. Vain aiid silly man is always wanting, never satis fied. What right had 1 to be discontented, or wish for any tiling but what I had—But man is never satisfied, as 1 said before. Pray, sir, said the divine cherub, will you be kind enough to send for a bottle of wine to the tavern over the way; lain somewhat faint. Yes, indeed I would, I replied, if I had any money, with all my soul; but I hope you—you will not be offended that I have it not in my power —I am > very sorry for it. I would ask them to trust me, but lam afraid they will not; however, I will try, and I will promise to pay them as soon as I can— I hope they will not laugh at me—l will try. She caught hold of my hand as I turned about, and almost drowned it with tears—Pray, sir said she, sobbing with pity and benevolence, as 1 thought, do not be offended that I intrude thus upon you, be,pleased to take this, presenting me her purse; lam very hungry likewise, pray sir, be so kind as to order them to send me a fowl, or any thing they have. Do not he offended! oh! that I could entertain you according’ to my wishes? said I, but pray do not send all this money by me, they perhaps may suspect that 1 have stolen it. They may perceive; nay, they know, that I am poor—l offered the purse, she received it, tho’ I thought she loooked as if she wished I would keep it. She gave me a guinea, and I did as I was desired. The waiter followed me up stairs. I cannot say, but I imagined he rather had a very impudent kind of look, and rather an inquisi tive stare —though, to be sure, be might well be surprised to see so beautiful a creature, and so I well dressed too, in my poor garret—l was amazed myself, nor could I scarcely, believe I was awake. She gave him a shilling as his own perquisite. He took it, gazed on her, stared at me, cast his eyes round the room, and departed. Come, sir, said she pray let me entreat you to eat a little bit of supper with me. I cannot eat, indeed, f you sit by without eating. Nay, pray, sir, come; I will draw the table, and sit upon the corner of the bed. Do, sir, take the chair. Her eyes were brimful again. Indeed she was an angel—l was very hungry, and she asked in so sweet a manner, that it was impossible to resist, it was a fine fowl, and the sweetest I think, I ever tasted in alljmy life. To be sure I was very hungry. She said at first she was hungry like wise. I could not see any thing that she had eaten, except picking one of the side bones. She seemed to mind nothing, only the helping of me. I told her of it. She gave men smile of the most enchanting complaisance, and replied she was en tirely happy to see me eat—her hunger was aba ted. Well, to be sure, every time I looked at her, ever time I recollected myself, l could not help thinking that this was an odd adventure. When supper was over, and little remaining of the fowl except the bones, the young creature as ked how long I had Jived in my present lodging?— I told her fifteen years, but that there was anew landlady come to the house, and l was afraid she would turn me out, for that I had a severe fit of sickness, which had taken the trifle of money which I had, and had likewise unfurnished my garret: and that my quarter’s rent had been due nbotTt 3*%eek, which had caused my present lady, as I imagined, to speak in a very surly manner to me. I would sell my bed to pay her, continued I, with all my heart, but they give so little for se cond-hand things, that I am afraid that will not do. Well, to be sure, 1 thought it very strange, I could not say a word, but this kind angel was wi ping her eyes. The waiter now came, as he had been ordered, to fetch away the plates and other tilings which had been sent over with the fowl. As he was going out again, he met my landlady entering tlie door. Hey day! exclaimed she, what are these? and where have you been ? Up stairs into tlie garret, returned the waiter, with a fowl to your lodger; and a fine young lady is with him, ‘Up stairs into the garret, with fowl!’ ‘Yes,into the garret with a fowl; and a bottle of wine, to raise their spirits, 1 suppose:—l think they want it. She is a fine young creature, to be sure, but she has a plaguy queer choice,’ ‘A fine young creature, and a bot tle of wine! Very well, very well, upon tny word! A fowl, too’—up stairs she bolted and began “Why, hark you, Mr. Shaberoon, you Mr. Poet, what is the reason that you doesnt’t pay me my good thirteen shillings and two pence half penny that you owes me ?—A fine way, indeed, to pay yourrent, to be jurketing with your fine mad ams upon wine and fowls ! But I would have you to know, Sir, that although to be sure I’m hut a poor parson, I am honest—There isn't any parson in Cripplegate parish keeps a more betterer or a more decenter house nor I do. 1 keeps no bad houses.’ The sweet creature was shocked, and turned aside her head. “Don’t turn up your nose rt me. I say T keeps no bad houses, nor for the best noblemen that ever stepped the king’s ground; so don’t think to bring any of your kept madams into my departments, to bring an ill kiracter upon my house.’, ‘Madam!’ said the young lady, with the utmost timidity—‘Madams !—Yes madams. You cant take the law of me for that—l did’nt say you was a mind, whatever 1 may think. And if vou, Mr. Farthing Poet, must have your Madams, you shall get em’ in some body el’ses house, and not in mine, I’ll promise you; and if you don’t pay me my rent tomorrow moring I’ll take out an executioner, and sieze upon what few rags and sticks you have left Thank God, the landlord comes first.’ Nay, pray do not do that, said 1:—I will pay you as soon as. I can indeed. How much is the rent, said the trembling che rub. Why. thirteen shillings, said she, the rent is, madam, besides two pence half penny that I lent him out of my pocket, at rarisum times, half penny and a farthing a time, and to be sure its very hard. I has nothing but what I works for, anil 1 caut't afford to lend my salt and give my eggs into the bargin. Purvisions are very scarce—then there’s rent, and winder money, and poor rates and common shore, and scavenger, and don’t know how much; one can’t feed hungry children with bad debts, you know, madam I didn’t mean to fend you. Madam, I only want my own. Nobody can he blamed for seeking after their own, Madam. The shirt isn’t so near at the skin, you know, Madam, and I hope y;e doesn’t take any thing a miss Madam, for when considerates the thing Madam, I can’t say as how you has any thing the l appearance of a bad person Madam ; to be sure l l am a little passionate, Madam, and its soon over * with me- -and I am shure there’s nobody, better nateader, nor betterer temperer’d, nor more readier to do a good turn nor I am, Madam. All the time during the last harrangue she kept softening her tone, which was rather shrill it must be owned at first, while her eye continually glanced towards the purse in the young lady’s hand. Pray, sir, said the sweet cherubim, do not be offended with me, I must insist upon paying this small triflle—nay, nay, good heaven? pray rise, sir—-I must not be thanked ! you have done more than this perhaps for me, sir.—Me! Madam— when ? no, no—alas! I have not had the means to do so much these many years : but you arc an angel, and l will pray'foryou. Yes,indeed, she is an angel, rejoined the landlady, and you ought to pray for her, and 1 hope your ladyship doesn't take to heart what I said ; 1 would not offend her lady ship for the world; but her ladyship knows, thal always taking out of the meal tub, and never put ting in, one soon comes to the bottom; and a smal leak will sink a great ship, or else I am sure 1 wouldn’t have said a word to the gentleman no! Vol. I.— No. 15. your Jadyship ; but nobody know s where the shoe pinches so well as he that wears it, or else I am sartin there isn’t a better natered person on the face of the yarth nor I am, though 1 say it* Perhaps her husband, had he been present, might have contradicted her. if her durst. Well, said the sweet creature, in the most affable manner imaginable, you will not be quite so passionate for the future, perhaps it w ill all be for the better. Away she now went down stairs, tal king all the way about her nature. As soon as she was gone, the sweet creature beg ged me to tell her whether I had ever bceu mar ried—The question made my sorrows overflow— Dear, madam, pray excuse, me, said I—l cannot restrain my tears—married—Oh! Lisbon ! Oh! Maria!—pray forgive me—’tis now, madam, six teen years since 1 lost my dear Maria: alas! how many heavy sighs, how many melancholy hours, how many restless nights and dolelul days has the sad remembrance cost me! my kind, my dear Maria—-thy heart was cheerful—-and thy soul was tender—thy enlivening conversation, thy happy disposition, thy mild and alleviating temper, thy innocent and benevolent thoughts, were so many sources of continual pleasure to me, to thyself, to all who knew thee—every body praised, for every body loved thee, and sought tliy company; tor there the wretched found an open ear, and a ten der heart, ever ready o share their sorrows, and the fortunate a cheerful mind that partook of ad their joys, without envying any of their happiness ; alas! thou art gone! my days had surely else have been no sorrow s : but thou wert too good for me or this poor world : excuse my tears; tny poor Sophia too; my lovely darling—my tender bird snatched from me just when thy chirping halt formed notes stole sweetly on my soul—-just as thy little antics, witty far beyond thy years, came thrilling to my heart and made me snatch thee often to my eager arms, and dwell with kisses ou thy prattling lips. Alas, madam, you seem too much affected—-I hope—Oh! sir—Madam. I am—What Madam?—l am your daugh —— lly daughter! Oh! heavens my child! gracious prov idence! my dear infant! my sweet Sophia! alas, I fear it is impossible ! Speak to me il thou art my child !—Oh God ! Oh ! my fa’her ! my dearest, dearest father. Tt is impossible—exclaimed I, again—did not I see the perish! alas! alas! this is but a heavenly vision; I must shortly awake to misery and wolul recollection—and yet thou art an angel ?Oh ! God of heaven permit to hope if thou bc’st my child, thou hast a strawberry on thy breast. Here it is, my dearest father. Almighty Lord, thy mercies are infinite ! thou art my child—the God of all worlds sent an angel to thy rescue. Did I not see the horrid chasm w herein both thee and thousands were enveloped ? Did I not fly from Lisbon from tlie horrid jaws of —but hold--tell me, I tremble while 1 ask does—’tis too much—l cannot hope-—does Ma ria—She lives, sir, she lives, and wants but you to make her happy—never till to day could we hear the least tidings of yon : an honest hearted wretch, whom, three years since, you once relieved, heard your name, and said be could never forget it—ho heard you called likewise the charitable Poor Poet of Cripplegate—my dearsest mother by chance heard him drop a word ; she enquired : be not offended that we, made use of a stratagem but liark; she’s at the door: 1 kuow her tread ; she’s coming—she’s flying—she’s here— she’s in your arms. Sparc me, gentle reader, do not expect me to describe what heart can scarce conceive—lmagine two people who had the tenderest, the sinceresf, the most inviolable affection, lost to each other for 16 years, after the most diligent enquiries on one side and the most abandoned despair on the other—imagine a husband restored to the arms of the most amiable of wives, after thinking lie beheld the horrid grave wherein she lay entombed. Imagine a wife come unexpectedly to relieve the man whom she dearly loved, and w hom she never hoped to see again, from penury and misery—think you behold a blooming heavenly cherub, weeping for joy at the happiness of those who gave her being—think—think of happiness, think of joy, think of ecstaey, think you behold the The Poor Foct of Cripplegate. Genuine and True.. —A young man who boarded at a house in the country, where w ere several coy damsels, was on one afternoon accosted by au acquaintance, and asked what lie thought of tlie young ladies. He replied they were very shy and reservd. “So they are,” returned the other, “and so much so, that no gentleman could get near en ought to tell the color of their eves.” “That may be,” said the boarder quickly “yet I will stake a million that I can kiss them "all three without any trouble.” “ That you cannot do,” cried his friend “It is an achievement which neither you nor any other man can accomplish.” The other was positive, and invited his friend to the house to witness histrumph. They entered the room together, and the three girls were at home sitting beside their mother, and they all looked as prim as possible, and almost as sepul chral as Mr. Toucey, lecturing on a duel. Our hero assumed a very grave aspect, even to dejection —and having looked wishfully at the clock, breathed a sigh as deep as algebra, and as long as a female dialogue at the street door. llis singular deportment now attracted the attention of the girls, who cast their slow'opening eyes up wards to his countenance. Perceiving the im pression he had made he turned to his companion and said in a doleful voice—it wants three minutes of the time. “Do you speak of dinner ?” said the old luu) putting down her sewing work. “Dinner ?” said he with a bewildered aspect, and pointing as if unconsciously, with curled forefinger at the clock. A silence ensued, during which the female part of the household glared at the young man wi‘h irrepressible curiosity.