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- . __ r _ —w i.iiwc3o—ww. wwwwHßMaeaa—BWprotwMW3wWHMnawwYg.-v xwimwi THE DAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL JiY AYES TON & COMBS. gatoson twlcffiln fonnial, PUBLISURI* EVERY THURSDAY. TK RMS—Strictly in . fifrrnicr. Tlirce months * 75 Si* months 1 25 Oae year 2 00 ADVERTISING RATES : NO. SQUARES. , I ONE MONTH. | TWO MONTHS. ! | THREE m’tHS. I SIX MONTHS. ONE TEAR. | ONE. $ 300 $ 500 t 1 00 *l2 50 S2O 00 I I TWO 500 750 10 00 18 00 25 00 ! i THREE 7 00 10 00 12 Ou 20 00. 30 00 TOUR 9001200 16 $ 10 00 1300 25 00| 40 00 80 00 I | 15 00 26 00 35 00, 60 00,110 00 ] col. 25 001 40 00 60 00 110 00 200 0 To *ldverliscrs :— The money for ad vertising considered due after first inser tion. Advertisements inserted at intervals to he charged as new each insertion. An additional charge oj' 10 per cent will be made on advertisements ordered to be in serted on a particular page. Advertisements under the head of “Spe cial Notices” will be inserted for 15 cents por line, for the first insertion, and 10 cents per line for each subsequent insertion. Advertisements in the “ Local Column,” will be inserted at 25 cents per line for the first, and 20 cent-per line for each subse quent insertion. . All communications or letters on business intended for this office should be addressed to “The Dawson Journal” Lyon, DeGraffenricd anti Irviu. Attorneys at Law, lACOJI, ■ - - GEORGIA. A TTILL give attention 'o professional bus > V iness in the Macon, South-western fi Batauia Circuits ; in the U S Courts, anSa vannah, and zltlanU, and by speenl con tract iu any part of the State. F. M- HA.XiJPJEK~ Jlttipy a/id Colpllof at La\v s D.IFFSOJ, G.l. DR. G. W. FARRAR HAS located in this city, and offers b ; s Professional services to the public Office next door to tbe “Journal Office,” on Main Street, where he can be found in the dav, uuless professionally engaged, and at night at his residence opposite the Baptist church ' feb. 2-. it. K. j 7 V/ AR R EN, " ATTORNEY AT LAYv, SWffKSriLtJ?, - - - G.I. G. W. WARWICK, Att’y at Law and Solicitor in Equity SMITHVILLE, UA. Will practice in South Wesern and Patau la circuits. Collections promptly remitted. n A. CCLLIKII. C, T. CHKVES, TOWNS HOUSX2, ESUUAb ST., A LI SANY, GA liY 85. A. COLLBBJI & CO. . McAFE HOUSE, At SiuiUmlif, <>a. MffiE undcr.signeu having fitted up the Me* l Jkfee 7/ouse at Smithville, takes pleasure in notifying the travelling public that the above house is now in the “full t.ide”of suc cessful administration bv himself. He will spare no expense to make it a First-Class Hotel. JTeals ready on the arrival of the rain. ‘ \V. M. Mc.VFEE. PROVISION 111 THE! W e arc now prepared to sell PROVISIONS ON TIME CBIJI At TUCKER. M y*2s, ts- TERRFLL SHERIFF SAMI. \\ T II.L be sold, beforo the Court House ’ * door, in the town of Dawson, in said county, ou the fust Tuesday in October next, withiu the legal hours of sale, the followiu" described lot : and Lot in the town of Dawson, dumber not known, but known us tl:c bouse and lot improved by James \V. Eaton, and in front of N. C. Greer’s residence*- Levied on as die property of Letoy Brown to satisfy a fi fa issued from ltandolph Superior Court in favor of Albert Lehman, vs. I.erov Brown. ■°Pt. 7 td. W M. JvJJGL/Tf.'Sheiiir. 'COTTON I CAMPBELL &. JONES Again offer their services to Planters and Merchants, as Warehouse & Commission MERCHANTS, ask a continuance of the patronage so liberally given them the past season. Olose personal attention given to the a ge aud Sale of Cotton, and to the filling of orders for Uagging and Ties and Plantation Supplies. Kefer to the patrons of the past season. Remember the place— Iron Warehouse, Poplar s>l., MACOS, GA. P. S.—Agents for the Winship Improved Cotton Gin and John Mcrrynian & Co.’s Jin tnoniated Dissolved Bones, which wc now of fer at a reduced price. soptl l Stu tan Business Directory. I>ry Goods Me roll ants. pRI.TI, ,% TI'CRTR, Dealers itl Dry Goods Clothing, Bools and Shoes Groceries &c. yllso agents for some of the most approved Fertilizers. Main Street I/rTMEK. al'cr in 4 V Staple and Fancy Dry Goods, Groceries Hardware, Crockery etc. / W. I\ Dealer In Fancy andgta- V/p le l)r y Go°ds, Main at., next dooi to J. \V . He and die It’d. Grocery Merchants KOOI», EL SI.» Dealer in Groceries and family supplies generally, at W. P. Orr’s old stand, under ‘Journal” Office •duin at. T GA EEXS, .!, Id. Grocer and Com M J mission J/erchaut, Dealer in Bacon, -r lour, F.iquors, Ac. RU'. 2zi f2 l . ,S. Grocer dealer in Ba cou. Flour, Lard, Tobacco, Ac. HARDWAKE. I Eld & BROTHER, Dealers in 1J Hardware. Iron and Steel, Wagon Tim b*rs, and Plantation Tools. Also MrnnLc Hirers of Tiu Ware,Main st., at J. B. Peny’s old stand. 1 [|URWJt, AABREW. Dealer * ' in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware Cut terlv, Furniture, Ist door from the Hotel. BruggiMs. f iIIIiA'S ISA 41, <C- A.. Druggist and Physician. Will visit by dav or night, patients iu Town will prescribe for any and all the ills that flesh is heir to. Keeps a complete supply of Drugs and Mods iciues. School Books and stationary—Gar den Seeds Ac , Ar his 01. l stand, The Red Drug Store on Main St., .TEUJ/S Strict ly Cash. fANES, DBS. .1. R., Dealer in ft Drugs, J/edicines, Oils, Paints, Dye Stulfs, Garden Seed, &c., Ac. Livery JARISCE. A. G. & .8. Is., Sale, E Foed and Livery Stable. Carriages, Hacks, Buggies, Drays, Wagons, Harness and Mules for sale or hire. Horses boarded at reasonable rales. Depot Street. BE lOvSAHTH SBIOi\ IVARU, EATCALL. Will make v t and repair Wagons, Buggies Plows, Dickson Sweep, Shoeing horses, near Post, Office-. Always ready to co work good and cheap Jan. 19 lv SUBSCRIPTIONS Aro respec fully solicited for the cietion of MONUMENT TO TIIE Canfgderale Dsad of Georgia, And those Soldiers from other Confederate Statca who were killed or died in this State. THE MONUNENT TO COST *50,000. The Corner Stone if is proposed shall b? laid on the 4th of July, or so soon thereafter as the receipts will permit. For every Five Puffers subscribed, there will he given a certificate of Life Membership to the the Monumental Association. This ceiliiuate will entitle the owner thereof to an equal interest in the Following property, to ba di.-f ibuted as soon as requisite nuuibois ot stiares arc sold, t*-wit .* Fust, Nine Hundred and one acres of Land in Lincoln countv, Geor gia, on which are the well known J/ igrader Gold and Copper Mines veined at *l5O 000 And to Seven een Hundred and Forty four shares in Oue Hundred Thousand DoF lars of United Stales currency, to-wlt : 1 Share of $10,000..... SIO,OIO 1 •> .. 5,u0,) 5,'00 2 “ 2,501..::..“.. 5,C10 to “ 2,n00 sn.h'o It) “ 1,000 10,000 20 “ 500 10,0011 100 “ 100 10,(11.0 200 “ 50 10.000 400 “ 20 10,000 1000 “ 10 10,000 SIOO,OOO Tlio value of the separate interest to which the holder of each certificate w ill be entitled, will te determined by the Commissioners,who will amiout.ee to the public the manner, the time ami place of distiibution. The following gentlemen heve consented to act as commissioners, and wil) ei her by a committee from their own body, or by spe cial trusters, appointed by themselves, re ceive and take proper charge of the money for the Monument, as well us the Real A'state and the U. S. Currency offcied as induce ments f.r subscription, and will determine upon the plan for the Monument, the inscrip tion thereon, the site therefor, select an ora tor for the occasion, and regulate the cere monies to be observed when the corner stone is laid, to-'vit : Generals L Mel.aws, A. R- Wright, M. A. Stovall, W. M. Gardiner, Goode Br.von, Colo nels, C. Suead, Wm. P- Crawford, Majors Joe. B. Cumming, Geo. T Sacksan, Joseph Ganalil, I. P. Girardcy, ITon. It. H. May, Adam Johnston, Jonathan M. Miller, W. 11. Goodrich, J. D. Butt, Henry Moore, Dr. W. E Hearing. . The Agerds in the respective counoes will retain the money received for the sale of Tickets until the subscription books are closed. In order that the several amounts may be returned to the .Share-holders, in case the Dumber of subscriptions will not war raut any further proceedure, «lie Hgents will report to this office, weekly, the result of their sales. When a sufficient number of the shares are sold, the zlgeuts will teceivc notice. They will then forward to this office Che amounts received. L. A A. H. McLAWS, Gen. A ’ts, No. 3 01 and I’. O. RuDge, Mclnthsli st.. Mat 18-ts. Angus:.., G.- W. F. Combs, of Dawson, Ga , will be g.ud to give information and receive subscriptions. LAWTOA A tt IGMAGHAJI, successors to LAWTOA At LAW fOS, j fourthstkkkt, jHacoii, Georgia, VV AIV E If olf S K Cotton and Commission Merchants. Advances rende on Cotton in Store when desired. Guano Dcrdern. nug.x-1 .. Terrell Court of Ordinary At CnAMBKB3, Sapt 13, IS7I. IT ia ordered lhat the following per centum be. aud the same is hereby levied on the tateTax, as a County Tux lor Terrell coun ty for the year ISTl.to-wit : Twelve and one half P tr cent, for the salaries of the District Judge and Solicitor; ninety-two and one fourth (92i) per cent, for building fund seven and ll.ree-fouitbs (7H per cent, for educational fund; three (3) pur cent, for bridge fund; twenty-seven and on c bait (2li) percent for county purposes; sevens teen (17) per cent, for pauper fund; aud hf temiOt.) per cent, for DAWSON, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 187 L Ml’ld’S HIiTTtR jiloaißSTh. Dlfo Ims its moments Os beauty and bloom ; But they liaug like sweet rones On the edge of the tomb. iUessinga they bring us, As lovely as brief. They meet us wlieu happy, -But leave i*s iu grief, II ties of the morning, Ringing the sky, Come on the sunbeams, And «ts with them fly. (Shadows of evening Hang roft on the shore; Darkness emvrnps them, We see them uo more. So life’s better moments; J n brilliance appear. Drawning in beauty, Our journey to choer- Kound us they linger, hike shadows of even ; Would that we, like them, -Wight melt into /7eaven. Front Grahams Mag:uiuc Pride. An old Mais’s dory. I was left an orphan at an early ago, but with immense wealth, after arriving at manhood 1 enjoyed all that untrammeled loisuro and money all could procure mo. 1 travelled abroad and for somo years pursued thoso amusements and pleasure which the old world, with its experience of luxu ry, offers to the unoccupied and wealthy. When I was about thirty, I deter mined to marry. As my property con sisted mostly of landed estate, situated in my native country', 1 wished, when I married, to return there and inaho it my home. Ihshlth >i g tit would he better to select a wife from my own countrywomen—one who would ho content to settle down to the domestic of her own homo. I shrank irom se lecting my future life-companion among the gay, brilliant belles of for eign circles. No. I was wearied of out-doors life, and pined for some now sphere of enjoyment. A quiet married life would procure liappiuness for me I felt sure ; and on my voyage homo, I built all sorts ot domestic Vhsautcaux tl' Enparuje. 1 thought it would be very' easy in my own country to obtain just the kind ot woman I wanted. 1 had no fears of my success. 1 knew I had a fine personal appearance and good address which would, oi course, secure the heart of the happy lady of my selec tion ; then my handsome fortune and excellent position in society would smooth away all family difficulties, liut after my return homo I found there wero as many obstacles existing to my mariaigo as abroad ; the women were tho same—beautiful, accomplish ed, interesting, but mere women of tho world. I bocame the fashion, of course, aud was a mark for scores of manceuvering mammas and lair daughters. No oue asked what faults I had, or wether my disposition was such as to ensure happinnoss in married life. My pas siuuate, willfull temper was termed a becoming spirit, my selfishness was either overlooked or uncared for. X possessed every charm of mi ad and person, because I was an excellent match. Disgusted, I almost resolved old bachelorhood for tho rest of my ; life. Ono summer, after recovering from ! an attack of’ illness, I happened, by 1 chance, iu travelling in pursuit of my lost health, to stop at a sea-bathing place, quite unknown to the fashiona ble world. It was so unlike every oth-! cr watering-placo 1 had ever been at, that I resolved to remain there until I wearied of it as I had of every thing elso. At this retired place I met Emily Grayson. Her parents had gone there | like myself for the benefit of their health rather than for amusement. I | soon discovered that Mr. Grayson and ; my father ha l been college friends ; : and though they had but rarely met ■ .alter they had left college, the recol- I leclion of their boyish intimacy was so ; pleasant to Mr. Grayson that he re ! reived tho son of his old friend warm :ly and affectionately. I passed over |my introduction to his family. From ! my first interview with Emily Gray- I son 1 felt interested in her, an intimate 1 acquaintance hut increased that inter i cst. I soon penetrated her character —not a very difficult task, for never liavo I seen a faco so expressive of tho feelings of tlio soul as hers. Her ac tions, too, wore dictated alone by the impulses of a puro heart. I found that slio was artless, intelligent and af fectionate; these wero the qualities which I had determined that my fu ture v.ifo must possess. Nevertheless slio had faults. Her curling lip, her expanded nostriol and Hashing eye, when circumstances aroused her, indi cated that sho possessed an impetuous j temper, with so small quantity of ' pride. I soon found that sho was rather self-willed, hut 1 excused this ! fault, for she had always been the pot ; ted plaything of parents, friends, and 1 teachers. These were her only errors, 1 and 1 thought they might easily be cor j rooted, for while harshness hut incens- I ed her, she was easily controlled by ■ gentleness as a child. Suffice it to say j that she came nearer my ideal than ; any one I had ever met with, and I dc itermined to win her. 1 loved her as I had never loved a i woman. I read with her favorite au i thors and mine ; I walked and rode, 1 sung and talked with her. i told hor 'of the'hinds I had visited—of the won i ders I had seen ; and when, at last, I ' gave utterance to my love, my words fell on a willing ear ; and 1 soon ob tained permission to ask her hand of I p C r parents. Great was their aston -1 iabment w hen they heard their girlish aughter demanded in marruigo. Th l had seen in)’ attentions, it was true; but they had looked .»-me as so much her senior—slm was bst sixteen, I be yond thirty—that she had novor ima gined the possibility of my becoming a lover. However, when they found that Emily really lovtrTn i, they offer ed no objections, stipulating, however, that our marraigo should ho deferred lor ono year, that wo might study each other’s character more closely during that time, with tin* additional request that our betrothal should not ho nindy public. If at tho expiration of that tiuio wo both remain.d unchanged, they promised that she should becoino mine. I pleaded in vain for a speedy marraigo. I feared that the prize which 1 had won might possibly bo lost to mo; and with a’i my natural impetuosity of D n t or, 1 sought to so curo immediately L„t i ’’jpod would perfect my day-cream u. happiness. They wero firm. “Theii daughter,” they snM, “was very young, and might post ibly have mistaken a girlish liking for a more serious attachment. 1, too, might ho influenced by a passing fancy.” 1 yoilded to what f could not con trol, but there was a source of satisfac tion mingled with my disappointment. 1 saw that my wealth had no infim-nco iu their decision, and tho fear which had always haunted mo —of being married from mercenary motives, was destroyed, at length 1 was loved— fondly and devotedly loved, aud for myself alone. The year passed aw ay moro rapidly than 1 had anticipated. Oh ! what a happy year was that! Friendless, alone, a sorrow-stricken old man, ou the verge of the grave, 1 look back up on that pevi-d as tho sunny hour of my existence. In my dreams 1 recall it, aud once again those happy days, with their bright hopes, their blisslull realities, are mine. Hut to my story. Dady my betrothed grew' nearer aud dearer to me; though modesty res trained any protestations el' love, her sileuco was more eloquent tl.au words. The year passed happily away, and my wedding day arrived.—l would have made it the occasion of a grand festival; i wished the world to witness my proud joy ; hut my bride looked on marraige as too solemn, too serious a thing tor mirth. A prouder, if not a happier man, w as 1 when, after wo had finished the bridal tour, she was at last installed as mistress ot n:y magnifieent^mansion— when I received the congratulation:; of my friends, and heard tho whispered murmur of admiration which her beauty excited. Fete after Jele was given to her, aud we plunged into the niielstrdin of fashionablo matrimonial dissipation. Emily, however, profored tho quiet pleasure of home to the gay scenes into which she was introduced —and so, in truth, did I ; but my van ity rejoiced in her triumphs. Seclud ed as she had been from society, sho had uono of tho faults of the inliated, and 1 was proud to contrast her artless m.affbctcd mien, and modest dignity, with the stateless pretensions of thoso around her. At length tho bridal parties were over and iu the quietude of our homo our characters began gradually to unfold themselves iu each other’s view. I found that I was not mistaken iu my • estirnato of my wife’s love. It was a deeper and more devoted affection than I had even dreamed would ever be come mine, iblio loved mo with all tho v'arnuh of her warm, impetuous nature; her faults were not called into action, and she was radiant w ith all those good qualities which so delight a man. How very happy we were ; how very happy we might have re mained. My moenot perfect love was at its full. 1 stood on tlio topmost pin nacle of happiness. Hitherto I had mused over tho poet’s lay of love ; 1 had burned at the novelist’s descrip tion of the intensity of the passion; but their wildest their most visionary dreams fell short of that Elysium ot delight—that Eden of bliss which 1 enjoyed w ith my Emily. All was joy, all w r as brightness : hut the shadow descended upon my heart—l brought it there —I fed it —I nursed it, until the light of joy was extinquished—un til tho sun of happiness had departed forever. I have said that my temper was naturally voilent; that 1 was obstinate; that I was selfish. Previous to my j marraige, circumstances had kept this infirmity of disposition in check, and for somo months after 1 controlled it. It had but slumbered- it was. not quenched ; and I, who had undertaken to correct this very fault in another, now, myself, became its slave. The bonds were broken ; the first unkind words wore spoken those words which are so easily spoken repeated after they have once occurred. The first quarrel—that sad era in married life —had taken place between us, and Loth felt that perfect lovo which wo had hitherto enjoyed could luturn no more. Could wo over divest ourselves of the memory of those cruel words? “But we might still he comparatively happy if this evil occured no more so said my weeping wife, when, after | a passion of tears, site offered mo her j hand. Things passed on smoothly for j a time; but the bonds wore broken, ; aud 1 ceased to chock tho ebullitions j of anger which the slightest eireum- | stanco callod forth. Before j tlio second year of my marraigo j life had passed away, I became that worst of ali oppressors—a house-hold tryant. At any annoyance, no matter how slight—if my meals were notpre pacod at the appointed hours—if a pa per, or book was mislaid—l would j giro way to oppressions of anger of | which, afterward, I really felt asham ' oil, knowing how unworthy they wore of a man; and yot, when again auger. od, I repeated them, and moro violent ly than before. My wife boro this with patience, but her indulgence ehag'id me, aud I sometimes uttered taunts which fie human being could suffer in silonco. Then came a reply and when this reply did come—such scenes as oecured ! I would work luy self into an insano passion, and utter words which in my cooler moments I shuddered at, and which invariably drove her weeping from tho room. And yet, soon after, would she come to mo and beg to bo lorgivou for tho very words w hich 1 had forced her to utter. The demon within me rejoiced to see her pride thus humbled before mine, for never, no matter how much in tault, did 1 seek a reconciliation. My temper became more violent, and at length, in one of our usual quarrels, I proposed a seperation. Had a serpent stung her she would not have gazed on it as she did on me. Never shall 1 forget her lock, so deathly pale, as she came near mo and placed let hand upon my arm. “Horace said she, “do you think ” I could survive such an act! 1 Do you think 1 would cast a stain upon my young sisters ? Do you think I would send my gray-haired parents sorrow ing to thegravo ? Would seo another woman your bride ? Would bear the woi Id’s sneering pity 'I Never ! never I —1 will die first, l'orseeuto me, tor ture me. Inflict every refinement of cruelty upon mo, even striko me, if you will; but never will I consent to such a proceeding—never shall tlio world call mo other than your wife so long as we both shall livo. You came to mo when I was young aud happy ; you took mo from a homo where I novel* had known sorrow ; you have blighted tho hopes of my young life, and now, you seek to cast mo away like a toy of which you have wearied.” I recoiled at myself; but I remained unchanged. We had boon married four years, and Emily had greatly changed in that time. The gn£ and lighted girl had become tho calm, dignified woman. Tho world looked upon us as examples of matrimonial happiness, for wo were both too proud to betray tho truth.— Os late Emily’s manner had altered ,* sho ceased to reply to my tits of pas sion ; neither did she now come and seek to effect a reconciliation with me. An icy calm reigned between us.— This existed for somo time, but, while 1 wished it broken, my pride preven ted mo from taking tho first advances. Fain would L havo had it dispelled by any moans which would not humiliate me; for with till my unkinduoss, 1 really lovod my wife, regretted tho \io lenee of my temper, and lamented my want of self control, liut now—what should Ido '( My prids fofbndo any advances Irom my side, and 1 feared that none would come from licrs. 1 saw at length that her pr'do was aroused, and I dreaded that she would obey its dictates, even though it broke her heart, for 1 knew sho still lovod mo. Day by day her check grow pa ler—her form thinner, and 1 saw sho suffered ; hut my fiendish pride would not give way. Sometimes, when 1 had almost conquered myself, when I had determined to effect a reconcilia tion, when next wo mot a col l bow from her, with her stately manner, again awoko tho demon within me, and my good resolutions were broken. Thus matters stood when, one day, 1 entered the room whore sho was sit ting, and excited by wine, which, late ly, was frequently tho case, i com menced upbraiding her about some tritle. She answered not, but contin ue! her work —a piece of delicate em broidery. Enraged at her silence, I snatched it fiom from her hands, threw it on the lloor, and placed my foot on it. Tho blood rushed to her pale cheek—her eyes flashed with their fire, as she sprang to her foot, and bade me restore it to her. “O, icicle,” I replied, “are you melt ed at last ? Give it to you ! No, in deed ; 1 will teach you moro respect for your husband than you have late ly shown. See,” 1 continued, as 1 picked it up ami tore it to fragments, “see ! there is tho frippery you think more worthy of your attention than your husband. ’ “Anything is more worthy than rr.y husband at this moment,” she replied. “Say you so ; say you so, madam, I exclaimed, Grasping her by tho arm, and hissing the words through my teeth ; then, what say you to a sepa ration ? Yon nood not refuso, I will have one; I will no longor livo with such a wife. Do you consent ? answer mo 1” I continued, shaking her by tho arm. “As you please,” sho replied; “noth ing can ho worse than this.” “You consent at last then, do you ? Well, this very day I will commence arrangements.” “When you please” she replied, and left the room 1 stood agliist at what I had done ; I had proposed - a separation and she had consented. 1 had said that on that very day I would cotn.ru.jneo ar rangements for the purpose, aud could 1 break my word '( Could Igo to her and hog her not to leave me, and that, when 1 myself had pro posed such a step ? My pride again forbade me, aud I obeyed its dictates ; but thero still remained a secret hope within mo, that on cool rotleciion she, herself, would refuse. 1 determined to consult a lawyer in whoso secrecy 1 could confide, and make such arrange ments as were absolutely necessary.— i did so, and patiently awi i od tho ro i suit. My wife did not appear again during that day—the next morning I found a noto on my plate at tho break fast table: Emily was not there. 1 opened it, and found that it contained a proposal to tho effect that she should o permitted to join some friends who were about to visit Europe ostensibly ou account of her health ; and if, at tlio expiration of that timo sho still lived, that a permanent separation might ho arranged; but at "present such a thing should not bo made pub lic. The note was written in a calm, < lear manner, yet I thoughtthodos.ro to avoid publicity in the affair, betrayed seme token of relenting. I replied to it at once, saying that I should make no objection to sucli an arrangement, or to any other tint .night suit her convenience. V. itli the note 1 sent u largo amount of money for her prepa rations. Tho next day wo received an invita tion to a party, which, contrary to her Into habits, Mrs. Mansfield accepted. Mho sent it to mo iu a note, touting the fact, and saying that she thought it would afford uu excellent opportunity to make known to society her intention of visiting Europe. I signified my as sent. itilling the time which inter vened I saw my wile only at table, where she appeared as culm as ever, though, perhaps, a tritle paler than usual. Hour on hour I had looked for her pride to fail her. Deeply in jured as sho had been, I could not bring myself to believe that, loving mo as she oneo had loved mo, and i loud ly hoped still did, sho would roully h avo mo ; but after having once made public her intention 1 feared lost sho might not shrink. Would she do so ? O, how anxiously I awaited that event ful night, and when, ut last, it caiuo, 1 was dressed and in attendance at an unusually early hour. As i paced tho dour anxiously, 1 hoped—l prayed that her heart would conque;—tbit love would subdue pri<W; but hew could I—how dare 1 'nope it ? What indignities had slio not borne from me ! Ought i Yiot to bumble myself aud ask lu r .to forgive mo '( Had hi lo come in ut that moment I I Would have done so, hut she came not. 1 wondered how sho would dross. Perhaps some carelessness in her apparel would betray that her mind was too much preoccupied to think of it. I glanced at tho clock ; it was titno that she should bo tl;ore. Just thou she entered, and as pale and calm as usual 1 looked at her dress; it was of dark velvet, trimmed with j rich lace—she had worn such a dress , in happier days Localise I admired it, I and thought that it became her style ot beauty. But now what was her object. Did she desire to please mo still, or was 1111111)11? 1 glanced at hos arms—on her nock ;—sho wore a set of diamonds which 1 gave her shortly alter our uiarriuge. She rare ly wore thorn at first, because she thought them unsuitable ornaments for one so young, bill now, when she looked so queenly and moved 30 state ly, they gave to her a grandeur which startled mo_ I coulu detect no carelessness in her dross—no agitation in her manner.— Her baud trembled not when I led her to tho carrxago, She showed 110 emo tion during our drive to the scene of festivity. Could this ho tho light hearted girl I married a few short years age ? Could this cold, this haughty, this imperial woman, he tho gentle, the loving, tho delicate wife of other days '( 1 heard tho murmur of admiration which greeted her; 1 saw group after group of flatterers gather ing aronml iter, and I wandered thro’ tho crowd like ono in opium dream, until, at last, 1 reached a conservatory, where I concealed myself, and thought of her —thought of her us when first j 1 met her. I looked back on the hap py hours of our betrothal—on tho hap pier days of our early married life.— I recalled her joyousnoss of spirit—her frank confidence of manner—her deop lovo—our former happiness—our pres ent misery ; and 1 remembered that it was 1 that had wrought tho eiiango. In a lew days wo should part—per haps forever —part while our hearts were full of love lor each other ! Nev er had 1 adored her as at that hour, and 1 determined that sho should not leave mo. Just thou tho voice of 0110 singing reached me. Tho tones seemed famil iar : I could not bo mistaken : Tho voice was hers. I hastily repaired to the room from’wbich it proceeded, and placing myself in a position from which i could seo tlio singer without being seen by her, listened until tho song was finished. .She was about to arise, when several voices asked for another song—for ono which at once had been a favorite of hors—of mine. Her face flushed, and then paled again when it was placed before ner i’er haps she thought of how often sho had bung that song for mo. Iu my eager ness I hud pressed forward, aud just when bho hesitated, her eyes met mine. .Sim immediately complied. Her voieo faltered at first, but recovering herself, sho sang it through to tho ond. Jt was a lay of happy lovo. When it was finished, she raisod her eyes for a moment, and only a moment, to mine, aud then commenced another— one 1 hal never heard before —tho story of a proud heart broken ! The words se-jrued to como from hor very j soul. The tones of her voice will ring , in my ears until they aro dulled by death A deep, painful silence per vaded the room. Tears stood in many ! bright eyes, red lips quivered with one tiou. Then sho ceased and arose from her seat, hut so paio was slio 1 foarud sho would faint. Wo soon after returned homo. The distance was short, but the time seem ed an ago until wo reached our house. I would have given worlds to have spoken and to liavo told her all—all my sorrow—all my repentance —but I could not; my tongue clove to tho roof of my mouth, nor indeed, until long after wo had reached our home, and she bado mo “good-night,” could I ut ter a word. Then and only then I VOL VI. —NO 33. stammered out a request that sho would remain for a lew moments.— iShe closed tho door and returned td her chair, raising her large, dark eyes , inquiringly to mine. 1 hesitated, j ‘Emily,’ at last said I—l had not called her so for months heforo—‘Em ily, will you not sing mo those songs you sung to-night.’ | ‘Certainly, if you wish it,’ she re plied, and seating herself ut the pia , no, she sang them again iu a clear; calm tone. 1 had determined when tho songs were finished to seek a reconciliation ; hut tho demon, pride, whispered, ‘will you bo less firm than she '(—this can not last: why humiliate yourself ?’— i Alas, I listened aud obeyed ! I suf -1 red the last opportunity to recall our' happiness to escape. Bride, the ty ruut, was obeyed, and 1 suffered her to leave the room with a cold “good night.” 1 wont up into my own lone ly chamber, and sat down, and pon dered un tho events of the evening, re gretting my folly in suffering my pride’ again to master 1110. 1 hoard my \\ ifo moving about her room, which adjoined my own, and then, suddenly, a heavy fall anil a low groan ! 1 rushed into her apartment and found her extended on the floor. I raised her in my arms, and to my horror ! her white night-dress was ' erod with blood, which wag, strean.° V * from her mouth. TJtfj truth Hashed upon mo at ori/g,-< s i lo j lA q broken a blood V j-rs'el; h lio would die ! 1 sprang to kVie bell. In a few minutes, which seemed an age, tho servants entered the room, hut stopped horror-stricken at beholding their beloved mistress apv parontly in tho agonies of doatli ! “The doctor ! u doctor, quick !” I shouted—“she will ilio - sho will dio !” In a second they wore all gone savei her maid, who was sobbing and pray ing, while sho wiped tho blood front the blue lips of her expiring mistress. O, wlmt agony I sulferod during the interval which ensued before tho arri val of the physician ! I called her by tho dearest titles ; I begged her but to spoak ono word, 1 entreated Lor to forgive me—only to smile once more ! .She slowly opened her largo eyes; A slight smile passed over her face, and sho was—dead ! Just then tho phys siciiins entered. I would not —I could nut believe that sho was really no rnord that God had taken lior from mo/ 1 begged and prayed of them to exert their skill—to save her ! “ft will he useless to attempt it,” was their passionless reply ; “no pow er can restore her 1” 1 did not boliovo them. My wife was not—could not bo dead ! I clasp ed her in my arms ; 1 kissed her brow —hoi lips ; and all became a blank ! What passed afterward I know not. When I awoko to consciousness, I found myself lying on a bod in a dark ened room. A strange female was standing by its side, talking in a lew tone of voice to another stranger. “He sooms hotter to-day, doctor,” said sho, “much bettor.” I asked for my wife ; they told mo to ho quiet, that 1 had been very ill, and inquired how 1 felt. I answered not, for gradually past events camd hack to my recollection. I remein bored everything—oven my last kiss on her clay-cold lips. 1 knew that sho was dead, and asked them what they had done with her. At first they hesitated, hut at length they told mo that she had boon buried. Buried ! my Emily I my wife ! Again I ceased to remember. Tho delirium which accompanied tho fever that had at tacked mo, returnod. All was chaos: Seven months elapsod ero I recov ered, and since that timo my days have boon passed in tears, and iu prayer, at her grave; my nights iu dreaming of her goodness, lior affbc-' tion and my terrible sin. Years hard rolled away since she was consigned, to tlio tomb —years of suffering—of remorse—in which I clothed niy spir it in sackcloth aud heaped ashes on its head. My deep repentance has at last procured forgiveness. Last night she smiled upon mo in my dreams and beckoned mo away. I most joytully acknowledge the summons. Ere many days 1 shall pass tho portals of mystic hind whore sorrow comes not, and forgetting all my crimes I shall abide with my angel forever aud forevor. You cannot escape from anxiety and labor; it is tho destiny of humanity. Happiness grows at our own fire sides and is not to bo,picked up in the strangers garden. Host satisfied w ith doing well, aftd leave others to talk of you as they please. If sin is turned out of our hearts by graco, it will bo turned out of out houses too. The only way to avoid evil, is to fill up every passing hour to the glory of God. A widower was recontly rejected by a'daiusel who didu't waut affections that had boeu “warmed over.” “Tis strange,’ mutterod a young man as ho staggered home from a din ner party, ‘how evil comnmuieatforui corrupt good manners. I’ve boon sur rounded by tumblers all the evouing, aud now I’m a tumbler.’ Itemantic Amelia (to her betrothed young doctor) —‘Look, dear, such n beautiful sunset! Tho sky i« all crim son.” Unromatic Doctor —‘Ya-as— appears to liavo had a mustard plaster ! ou.” — I’uuch. Airs. Mokor, a strong-miudod wo>- 1 man from Atlanta, announced! fror self for a lecture on matrimony in j Covington a few evenings siuoo; but failed to attract an aardsouoe.’