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by GARDNER & BARROW. THE GEORCiI-t MIRROR, f. published every Saturday, in Florence, Jtewart county, Ga. at THREE DODLARS a vear. if paid iu advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, if not paid until the end of the year. Advertisements will be conspicuously inserted at One Dollar per square, (15 lines) the first, and .0 cPUts for each subsequent insertion. Nothing under 15 lines will be considered less than a iquare. A deduction will be made for yearly ad vertisements. \]l advertisements handed in for publication »ithoiH t limitation, will be published till forbid, am l charged accordingly. Hales 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- 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. QJ* All Letters on business must be ros pun to insure attention. • ID'IOT. From a Philadelphia Paper. The venerable and excellent Mr. William Ca rev, of London, the eminent critic in the Fine Aris, has favored us with the following lines on liis own sensations. After three score and ten, one may egotize with singular grace and propriety. He who is looking to the time as near at hand when he shall sleep at the foot of life’s hill, “hath much privilege to speak of himself.” SEVENTY-NINE. In body feeble and decay’d ; Worn to the shadow of a shade,— Not wholly blind, for 1 have sight Enough to know the day from night; Not wholly deaf—for I can hear The thunder, pealing in my car; Not wholly dumb—for I can make A shift to whistle when awake; Not wholly toothless, lor in truth, I mumble with a single tooth : Not all forgetting, I remember Frost, snow, and hail, in last December- Though memory, when wanted most, Too often slumbers on her post; My hod ifs loss , I gladly find Repaid with interest, in mind; My reas'tiing faculty, more clear, Acquires new force, from year to year; No change affects iny cheerful temper; In spite of pain and suffering, “Sempur Kadem still in converse ready; In public purpose prompt aud steady , In lively strain iny friends amusing ; Or topics of instruction choosing ; In thirst the chrystal stream 1 prize, And temperance fifty board supplies.— Much evil of mankind we read, Os many a dark and hateful deed, . Rut when the good and bad are weighed, And with impartial eyes survey’d, How come* it that the Wise and Brave, Are loath this w icked world to leave ? I love the sunny, joyous side, And deem the world is much belied ; With patience hear each monstrous tuiVifiur And meet the times with trank good humour. Enjoy a laugh and harmless jest And hold whatever is as best. The envied happiness is mine, Pm young in heart , at Seven'ty-nise. And should th’ Omnipotent decree A little longer date to me ; Long as I have a blink of sight, A glimmer left to reau and write, Long as my hand a pen can guide, Hy hours shall be, as now applied; ’' »viead her cause at Freedom’s shrine ; ‘ ' -'cate the Arts divine; j\ n< ai * v “ . birth, in bright array, tvw Genius .. • -Aness into day, 1 rom friendless da. And in a pleasant fair sci. 1 The social virtues inculcate ; Dr, with a typo graphical spell, The wonders of creation tell And the Eternal Volume quote To savage ;uan, in climes remote. The future must he like the past ; l would be useful to th<? as • And when my mortal cot Use . Gn sea or land, God’s will be ’. Well pleas’d to live—to die resign «» My pray’r the good of all mankind. Wm. CARL A. Philadelphia U. S. July 10, 1838. Ts mv e "’Ut .of spirits V said John, with a sigh, w,lc •* , f ~ tempest gave warning: As her voice o ' ’ said the maid in reply, bfinte out, sir, indc *’, this morning.’ ‘I or she,finished iht tn . change his state, * om prais'd his friend, who - ,^ e I or binding fast himself and Ka. In union so divine. •‘Wedlock’s the end of life,’ he cried . __ 'loo true, alas!’ said Jack, and sigh’d,- “Twill be the end of mine.” A judge did once liis t ipstaff call, And say, ‘Sir, I desire 1 ou go forthwith and search the hall, And send me ; n the crier.’ ‘And search, my lord, in vam I may,* Hie tipstaff gravely said : _ .The crier cannot ery to day, p ?ause his wife is dead,' ms* From the Philadelphia Visiter. Glycoii, the 4»i*ecian. A tale of Rome's evil days . BY HENRY F. HORRINGTON. CHAPTER I—THE COMPACT. The senators of Rome issued from the Senate House. There was a gloom of indignation on their faces, for Donntian the emperor, had that day dared to oiler to their sacred body assembled in solemn meeting, a degrading and unpardonable insult. They retired in knots, discoursing in low whispers—and there was that in the countenances of many which betrayed the deeply wounded spirit, and the bitter thirst lor revenge. There was somewhat of virtue yet remaining amid the degradation of Romans. The venerable Marcellus was one of these.— He was a true lover of his falling country —he wept for the days that were gone. “Lentulus,” said he to liis companion, “come thou with me.” The two hastened to the palace of the senator— and in his private apartment they conversed long and earnestly. When Lentulus rose to depart, Marcellus grasped his baud, aud said in fervent tones— “ Thou wilt assuredly be true to me—to thyself, and to Rome.” “Ever,” was the ready answer; “this hour will I seek our friends.” “Wilt thou so? Then let the emperor be ware.” CHAPTER II.—THE HERO. The lady Livia the daughter of the proud Sen ator, Marcus Livius Marcellus, of whom I have already spoken a descendant of one of the noblest families of Rome, sat in the garden of her father’s palace, upon the marble steps leading to the statue of Hebe. She had stolen unobserved from her apartment, and now with her arm upon the step above her, ami her cheek resting upon her hand, she watched the closed entrance—her eye glis tening with joyous expectation. She was beauti ful—softly beautiful. She was not robed in that brightness of expression which commands the ad miring gaze; but there was in her, and around •her, that retiring modesty, that voluptuous grace of form, and action, and feature, which gladly win the, enraptured sight, and staifip a living image upon the soul. Her hair was of a pale golden thus in accordance with the taste of tire Roman ladies of her time, hut so tinged by the hand of Nature; and it fell in ringlets over ner neck, only bound by a single ribbon—in that too, differing from her compers, in as much as the sweet purity ot nature was set in contrast with the stiffnees of art. Her eye was blue, soft, and changing; her features small but regular with a tinge of subdued melancholly in their brightness, ller ornaments were ot the richest gems—and her robe of the costly Indian silk, shone in its twice dyed Tyrian hue. It was near sunset, and the rich rays ot the de parting orb rested on the gorgeous palaces and decorated temples of the mighty Rome—mighty even in its fall—and shed a lustre round the mar ble walls of the lofty Capitol. All was still—and the lady Livia caught magic inspiration from the beauty of nature, arid often rose from herseat, and gazed in rapture around; but she as often sunk down again, and bent her nrild gaze steadfastly upon the entrance to the garden. I here was a sound—she started —yes, an armed heel trod the tessailated pavements. A crimson hue, that rival led the tint of her robe, mantled upon her trans parent cheek, and her bosom heaved. Hie gate opened, and with a light yet ringing step, for he was clad in complete armour, Glycon, the captain of Domitian’s body guild, the favoured of his jjijuce, the bravest man in Lome, stood beluie her. , , She rose. Delight—glowing delight was pic tured on her face, and as lie twined his arms aroud her, and pressed her to his bosom : she looked into his eyes, and while all the lervor ot woman s love was glistening in her own, slic sottly mur mured— “My Glycon—thou hast returned.’ “My sweet, sweet Livia, yes; after a month s long absence, yet true to thee as ever. Come, let us sit, my love. Ere I pay my obeisance to my master, I w ill spend an hour with thee.” They sat down side by side, and oonveised of love, and were happy in the vows of each other; and then they spoke of the past and of the future— of themselves. It would seem to have been a pleas ant subject, but as they conversed, Glycon’s smile faded, and a sad frown usurped its place. Livia was alarmed. . . “My Glycon—what ails thee ? Vby site that frown upon thy brow? , T f »Mv own Livia, 1 fear for our happiness; I fear for the peace of Rome. This day did the em peror convene the senate, and when that grave body were assembled he would have their opinions on some matter of cookery-the messing of a ♦urbot—and they burn with indignation. Ihy I f athC r was there.' I saw his swelling anger and , • ;„<r shame. My Livia though he has snnled »■« "»* - „ ho serve, the do,t then serve him." -r ,he h ° ,J alter of Jupiter. H® rphou hast never told “Domitian saved thy me . x th u*Twas°bat forgetfulness. 1 lived, thou know the soldiers visited our them kind- thcn--- of wh at they stood in lly ’ A Sometimes there came among them one_ •v" e<l 'ius;a captain, and he beguiled the heart ot Che.. Hyala t y*,gentle stsrer... u ; , dS ‘ thou a sister!” lost! wr;ir her nnt ■ she * ] °^ f forgive me these, tears, butr-1 FLORENCE, GA. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1838. ! loved her most dearly—l would have treasured her in my heart. But she has tied with the villaiu Rhetius—fled for ever. That outrage, and the sting of other wrongs, maddened a trampled peo ple. We rose to revenge our disgrace—but, alas, —the Grecian name alone was left us; the Gre cian heart of steel, the Grecian honor were gone. We were soon conquered, and 1, with others, was brought to Rome. All } perished save myself. The emperor preserved me. Gratitude is strong, Livia.” “U, Glycon, where is thy poor, poor sister?— Speak thou nol so harshly of her. IS he loved, iny Glycon”—aud Livia looked up in her lover’s face, and clung to his bosom. “She fled in dishonour with the Roman.” “She loved, she loved. Thou canst not estimate woman’s love. Where, where is she ?’* “i know not. I never sought her.” “Forgive her. Thou wilt forgive her.” “Never.” “His tone was firm and decided, and Livia only sobbing, “PoorHyala!” wept bitterly. Glycon rose to dr part. He placed his burnish ed helment upon his head; and Ins tall, manly form, displayed as it-was by liis closely fitting ar mor, and his bland, generous, yet noble features, made the bosom of Livia glow with pride that he should be her own. She wiped away her tears, and throwing herself upon liis breast, twined her arms about his neck, while he strained her in a close embrace. “Farewell, my Livia, the gods be with thee, and watch over thee. Farewell!”—and the sol dier left the garden. As he strode through the hall of the palace, a slave intercepted him. “My master would speak with thee—wilt thou follow’ ? The slave led the way to a small apartment ad joining the hall, where sat the senator. The noble Marcellus, who inherited with his naiae the pride and virtue of his ancestors, often wept over the ignominy of Rome, the prostration of her power, the stain upon herhonm, the scorn that greeted her name, lie would have raised the cry of “Lib erty—the republic!” in every street. He would have bid the eagle of the republic spread its broad wings once more above the polluted capitol. He would have hurled defiance at Rome’s tyrants. But Rome was debased—enslaved; and the days of her glory were not destined again to greet the eyes of the despairing patriot. As Glycon en tered, he rose to welcome him, and the soldier doffed Iris helmet, and bent low in reverence of the venerable man. Marcellus spoke;— “Glycon, thou lovest my daughter.” “As 1 love my honor-” “Well. She loves thee, Glycon.” “Yes—yes—-the gods be thanked,” “Thou saidst thy honor. Thou treasurest thy honor, then ?” The cheek of the Grecian glow ed and his lip quivered— while a frown gathered on his brow. “Does the noble Marcelles suspect me ?” “No—no—young man—thou servest an hon orable master.” The crimson on Glycon’s cheek became dee per. “Didst thou send for me that thou mightst in sult me?” •‘Nay—be calm. Ibnoraole because he is the emperor of Rome,” Glycon’s thoughts revetted to his master’s char acter, the insults he had that day given to the sen ate, and he felt that he needed to offer an excuse for his devotion to him. “Most noble Marcellus,” said he, “Domitian saved my life.” “Ha! * well. For this thou servest him ?” “Yes—yes. For this I have been ready to die in his defence.” “So—so! I like thee—l like thee—come again —often. I will converse with thee more anon.— Farwell.” After these few words, Glycon departed. The old senator stood awhile in musing thought—then he paced the room. •‘Yes, yes; gratidude—honor—well—very well! Captain of the emperor’s private guard my daughter’s lover—his own tried bravery— yes—very well." And thus speaking lie left the apartment. CHATTER 111—THE SISTER. The informer Matiio, the most detested man in Rome save his patron the emperor, met Glycon as he wended his wav to Domitian's palace, after the conversation described in the last chapter. “Ha, good Glycon, returned ? I am glad to see thee. Thou has conquered the people thou wast sent against. Thou’lt be better loved than before. I envy thee!” The malignaut look, but illy concealed beneath his fawning smile, betrayed that he envied him, indeed. Glycon glanced at him with contempt, but cautiously suppressing his feelings, he re plied— “ Yes, Matho, returned. Ilow fares the great emperor?” “lie prospers. Ha—how finly he tricked the grey beard senatovs-to day ! I saw thee there.— How they did wiu«®’Twas delightful. But I’m bound upon an erranfl, adieu!” He passed on, Glycon continued k; s way, won dering what could be the import of the few words addressed to him by the father ol Levia. As fie strode along, the citizens whom he met bent low before him in debased servility, for lie was the captain of the emperor’s body guard ; and scorn overcome gratified pride in our hero’s breast scorn of the gnvelling offspring of noble ances tors—and thenhe heaved a sigh—a deep sigh of anguish for the debasement of his dwn storied and honored Greece, whose sun had set in eternal n i„ht. Rome lad ground his country into the dust; Rome hal placed her iron foot upon the soil of his glorious heme; and somewhat of hate f was mingled with his scorn. His sister™naturnlly did he think of her, sadly J—otmugasbe was,of the degradation of liis home, «>vide he rushed on. More bit ' *-ute3. ! leheed * ed not friend or stranger—and with a heartfelt curse upon the name of Rhetius, and a clenching of his teeth that betrayed some desperate pur pose, he entered the gate of the emperor’s pal ace. *o**B I will now convey the reader to an apartment of that palace, the chamber of the Rhetius. It is night, and he is alone within it—reclining upon a couch ; aud while he seems, at times, to slum ber, his quick starts, when any sound, however slight, disturbs the silence, betray an anxious watchfulness. His features are stern, yet beauti fully regular; while much of elevation is impar ted to his countenance by the Vroad expansion of his forehead. He could smile—with a sweetness that took the feelings by storm. It was his noble forehead that threw into the shade the fearful developeinents of avarice and passion. It was that smile which stole and fettered the gentle heart of she dark-eyed Grecian—the lost, the wretched Hyala. Rhetius soon rose from his recumbent position, and as he sate with folded arms, looking intently at the dim lamp which threw a pale light around, that deceitful smile wreathed itself about his fea tures, and thus he communed with himself: “Yes—yes—the girl will be of worth to me The emperor will well pay me for giving her to him, and in his search for new pleasures, will soon cast her back again; and then—yes—Lucius shall have her. He loves a dark eye, and a pearly skin like hers, and he shall fill ray roflfcis —the foolish spendthrift. O, rare , «'- K that I found her! comes she not T fehe would not dare to be coy wh»n I so sternly bade her yield. No; she foves me—me alone of all on earth, and will do as I have bid”—and the villain’s smile grew deep er, that he could use such lovs for his demon purposes. The door opened, and a female entered, with a step so light that it seemed not mortal. Yet she trod slowly and wearily. Her head was bent, and her dark hair, unbound, fell down dishevelled over her neck and bosom, that heaved with her painful breathing. She advanced toward, the couch on which Rhetitus still, sat, with arms outstretched to receive her, aud when she had come near to him, she stood still. Faintness seemed to be stealing through her frame and palsying her strength. With wreak power, she piessed her hands upon her eyes, and then clasping them be fore her, looked into the face of her betrayer ami a loud, long, agonized shriek issued from her lips, telling so dreadful a tale of wo, that the sen tinel in the hall beyond started and grasped his spear, and the hardened soldiers by the gates, who had often heard such sounds in that gilded abode of crime, smiled grimly in each other’s tace. It was the utterance of a broken heart-—and Hyala fell senseless upon the floor. Rhetius placed her upon the couch, and ap plying restoratives, bent over her in wily craft, and tried to recover lier by endearing caresses, and tones of sorrowing love. He well knew the hu man heart, and he succeeded. She grasped, and her eyes opened. For a few moments, her senses wandered. A faint smile played about her lips, and she murmured the name of her native village, and of her beloved brother. When reason came again, and she felt all the horror of her stiuation, she calmly rose and stood up. Despair—hope less, guilty despair wqa painted on her features. Her eye was bloodshoiten and wildly bright—her che«k of a startling paleness, and a cold shiver ran through lier frame. Rhetius was alarmed, and would have spoken soothingly—-but the mis erable girl motioned him to keep silence, and then, in calm, hollow tones, she said— “O, Rhetius, Rhetius —what hast thou made of me!” The sound of her voice restored the callousness of the monster by her side, who had feared she was dying ; and he answered— “ Na y—nay, Hyala, thou wilt not upbraid me; I love thee still—as much as ever. Arouse thee, Hyala—this is foolishness.” Hyala remained yet before him, her eye wan dering around, and seemed not to hear his words; for when he had ended, she only replied, with a mournful shake of her head, as if agony had stolen her senses — “Rhetius, Rhetius, what has thou made of me!” “Girl,” answered he, “thou lias done nothing more than the Roman women do every day.— Away with this grieving. Rethink thee —it is an honor to thee that the emperor of Rome has smiled upon thee ! and more—it has added gold - much gold to thy lover's coffers. Ha ! ha! Thou shalt partake of it, and—and—thou shall visit the prince again, iny Hyala”—and he kissed At these words she fell down upon her knees before him, and clasped her hands in mute supplication—as white and still as the marble statues that adorned the apartment. In the act, a circlet of the richest gems, wrought in the finest cold, partly escaped from beneath the bosom ot her robe, aud glittered in the light. Rhetius dar ted upon it with smile of joy; and drawing it forth, he strode to the lamp, and examined it with a scrutinizing eve. 1 lien he held it up in admi ration. “My good, dear Hyala—so thou didst not re fuse his gift ? I know I bade thee not, and thou hast obeyed me. I thank thee. ’Tis worth the fortune of the proudest senator of Rome ! How sparkle the diamonds and pearls! O glorious prize !”—and as he placed the dazzling chain with his ill-gotten riches, he muttered to himself. “The girl shall go again!” There was i knock at the door of the room.— It was a messenger from the emperor command ing the presence of Rhetius, and bidding Hyala to be of good cheer, he hastened to obey the snm mons. To be continued. Friendly Umpire. —Every man should have a friend ready to call in when he quarrels with his wife, to make the contending parties put on for de cency’s sake, the appearance of a good understan ding, which will help to bring about the reality. Yol. I. —No. 26. WIVES BY miss anSa maria arg a!»t. Os the different re loti tships woman is called upon by nature to bear nth toward her own and the opposite sex, perhaps iere is none in which she stands so prominent i. that of a wife. Asa daughter she sustains an interesting character and beautiful is it to behold her fulfilling the filial duties with reverence and love. Asa sister many of *be most pleasing and gentle traits may be dev eloped. Asa mother she is placed in a situation of the utmost importance, and wh*re new and delightful feelings are awakened into existence. But it is us a wife she is most regarded by the world, and for that character all the energies of her nature appear to be brought into action. At her creation the duties of a wife wer* the first she was called upon to fulfil, and eloquent ie the description our master-poet has given of her in that relationship—where scripti re ie silent, he, as with a sunbeam, has portrayed her w all the holiness of cristine purity, and even after her fall touchingly beautiful, is the iepresentation of her penitence, and willingness to bear the whole weight of her offended Maker’s ire. In the situation of wife all the great and enno bling virtues, as well as all the gentle and affections which perfain to the character, may be exhibited. Tv.» urst and most prominent is her faithf» ,uc3B l many are the instances history and biography record, but there are many whom none but a circumscribed few are acquainted with, where unostentatious but unconquerable devo tion to its object meet alone the reward it seeks: Woman is generally esteemed timid and retiring; and as such she lays the greatest claim upon man; as such in the ordinary afi'airs of life she is in her most attractive character, but there are situations were she puts outhe noble courage of the lion, in stead of the gentleness of the lamb, and it is us ually brought into exercise by the strength of her affection as a wife. Frequently is she knownto stem the rough torrent of adversity for liis sake, when all the world beside many have forsaken him. Yes, in the midst of deepest despair, she is to be seen whispering peace and consolation, and shed ding a halo around the dark chaos of his soul. But the milder and passive virtues are more com monly exhibited, and lor these every hour in the day must give scope. The variety of little disap pointments and vexations, which ol necessity oc cur, (to man more especially, from his greater in tercourse with the world,) not unusually renders the temper somwhat irritable, but it is the duty and pleasure of the amiable and affectionate wife to endeavor to soften this irritability by sweetness and forbearance, by showing her willingness to promote his happiness however the world may frown—her tenderness and affection unchanged however others friends may desert—she will by self-denial seek to advance liis pleasure, by candor dispel all doubts that might darken his confidence, and by genorosity of thought and word and deed, prove her every interest is swallowed up in his. By many picture of woman’s devotedness may be deemed too highly colored, but I have seen her, in the character of wife, all that I have described ; 1 have seen her trying to smile away the distress es of him to whom her heart and life was devoted, and when that has failed, I have seen her answer only by a fear, a silent, eloquent tear, not intended as a reproof; but which has effected what all lier smiles may hare failed to accomplish; I have seen her by the exercise of moral courage bearing all the sterner duties, and shaking off the retiring timidity ot her nature, to supply Ins want of pow er; I have seen her denying herself all the luxuries comforts, nay, almost necessaries of life, to pro mote his pleasure and well-being ; I have seen her beside his couch in the hour ol sickness, endur ing fatigue with uncomplaining patience.—Yea, all this aud far more 1 have seen wrought from the pure essence of woman’s love. In the breast of that woman where vanity is the leading characteristic (and unhappily the modern system of female education too often fosters this disgusting evil) the virtues such as we have des cribed, cannot be expected to dwell. She who, either as a maiden or wile, pants for admiration, and to gain it will wound the feelings or ruin the peace of another, is altogether incapable of the generous sentiment which alone deserves the name of love. Avarice is a still more odious inhabitant; the bosom of lier who cherishes it must be totally devoid of those soft affections we usually look for in our sex ; and she reaps the reward she merits when she sacrifices her principles and feelings by a union of interest; the gold she has dearly pur clirtnni] fails to procure the happiness she seeks, and her heait becomes a chaos of evil passions and disappointed hopes. Hosv delightful is it to witness an oged couple who have withered life’s storms hand-in-hand, and smiled on each other amid them, even as in its sunshine —whose pleasure in each other’s society does not decrease because time has furrowed their brows and divested them of the strength and beau ty of youth ; to such a pair the past affords a fund of exquisite joy, as it presents through memory’s glass their early loves, and if religion opens to their view the prospect of re-union after death in a world where separation is not known, sweet and easy must be their departure, and no cause have they to regret that life’s day is on the decline. Injuries From Friends.— Those who have their joys have also their griefs in proportion ; and none call extremly exalt or depress us but friends. The harsh things which come from the rest of the world, are met and repulsed with that spirit which every honest man bears about him, for his own vindica tion ; but unkindness in words or actions among friends, affects us the first instant in the inmost recesses of the soul. Indiflerent people, if I may so speak, can wound us only in the heterogene ous parts—main us in our legs or arms, but the friend can make no pass but at the heart itselC On the other side, the most important assistance; the more well w ishes of a friend, give a man cour age against the most prevailing force, of all kia. euemies. It is here only that be enjoys aod i fits to the quick* -