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gatosoit ajftwkla lourual, Published Every Thursday BY PERRYMAN & MERIWETHER, TE RMS—Strictly in Advance. Three months 2? Sir months One year 00 Rates or Ad vertlstn g : One dollar per square of tea lines for the first insertion, and Seventy-five Gents per square lor each subsequent insertion, not ex ceediog throe. One square three months ♦ 8 00 fine square six months '. 12 00 One square one year...... 20 00 Too squares three months 12 00 Tiro squares six months ... 18 00 Two squares one year 30 00 fourth of a column three moths 80 00 Fourth of a oolumn six months 60 00 Half column three moths. 46 00 Half column six months 7o Oo One column three months 70 00 One column six months 100 00 Liberal Reductions Jttade on Contract Advertisements. Legal Advertising. Sheriff’s Sales, per levy %i 60 Mortgage Fi Fa Sales per square 6 00 Citations for Letters of Administration, 3 00 a *i ‘i Guardianship,. 8 00 Dismision from Apministration, 6 00 •I I* Guardianship, 4 00 Application for leave to sell land, 6 00 Sales of Land, per square, 6 00 Sales of Perishable Property per equ’r, 3 00 Notices to Debtors and Creditors,.... 3 60 Foreclosure of Mortgage, per square, 2 00 Estray Notices, thirty days, 4 00 Job W'ork of every description ere cutedwith neatuess and dispatch, at moderate rates. RAIL-ROAD GUIDE. MullnvMlrrn Railroad. WM. HOLT, Pres. | VIRGIL POWERS, Sup Leaves Macon 8 A Jf; arrives at Eu faala fi 30, P M ; Leaves Eufauia 7 20, AM; Arrives at Macon 4 60, P M. ALBANY BRANCH. Leaves Smithville 1 46, P M ; Arrives at Albany 8 11, P M ; Leaves Albany 9 86, A M; Arrives at Smithville 11, A M. Macon A Western Railroad. A. J. WHITE, President. E. B. WALKER, Superintendent. DAY PASSENGER TRAIN. Leaves Macon . • > 780A. M. Arrives at Atlanta . . . 167 P. M Leaves Atlanta • • * 6 sis A. VI. Arrives at Macon . * . . 180 P. M. NIGHT TRAIN. Lsavts Macon . • • 845 P. M. Arrives at Atlanta . • . 450A. M. Leaves Atlanta . . • BluP. M Arrives at Macon . . • 126A. M. Western & Atlantic Railroad. CAMPBELL WALLACE, Sup’t. I)AY PASSENGER TRAIN. I,»ave Atlanta . • '• 845 A. SI. Leave Dalton .... 2.80 f- M. Arrive at Chattanooga . . 5.25 P.M. Leave Chattanooga . . 3.20 A. M. Arrive at Atlanta . . . 12.06 P. M. MOHT TRAIN. I.iave Atlanta . . « 7 On P M. Arrive at Chattanooga . . 4.10 AM. Leave Chattanooga . . 430 M Arrive at Dalton . . . 750 P. M Arrive at Atlanta . . • 1-41 A. M. §ttsm*gg &m\s. DR. W. H. HOBNETT WILL, at all limes, take great pleasure in wailing on all who desire his services, and are wlllirg to pay for the same. No other practice ia solicited. Dawson, Ga., January Slab, 1868—ly DR. R. A. WAKNOCK. OFFERS his Professional services to the citizens of Cbickaeawhatchee and its vicinity. From ample experience in both •i»il and Military practice, he is prepared to treat successfully, cases in every department •( hia profession. janl6’Cßif c 7 b 7 WOOTEN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Bateson., Ga. jan 16 1868 ly O. i. OBRLKY. WILD C. CLSVKLXKD GURLEY & CLEVELAND, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, JtHirord, Balter County , Ga. J. I?. ALLEN, WATCI AND REPAIRER JEWELER. Dawson, Da., 18 prepared to do any work in his line in the very best style. feb‘2B ts J. «. 8. SMITH, GUIST SMITH and Wcf ITS O.V, • Georgia. Repairs all kinds of Guns, Pistols, Sewing Maiiines, etc., etc. 8 ly. HARNESS I REPAIR SHOP •AT PRIMES' STABLES, Dawson, ... Georgia, _ furnish the publie with Carriag- Trimming, lUitihph Mounting, Ac. All Work promptly done for the coli. p0v22’673m HARRIS DEKNARD. Shipments To Liverpool! FREE OFCIIARUE HAVING always first class vessels on the berth for Liverpool, we will receive and forward cotton at tfie lowest current r»tes free of commission, charging on'y >h. fk U j ex P eDt * es attending the removal from c depot to the press. We are prepared o advance, when required, three fourths ol tne value and guaranteed proceeds. Wm. M. TUNNO A CO , Savaunah, Ga, Fresh Garueu Seed ®OR SAL K A. T i erryman & Meriwether’s Drug Store THE DAWSON JOURNAL. Vol. 111. POKTItV UffE STEP HURL. What though before tne it is daik, Too dark for me to see ? I ask but light, for one step more; ’Tis quite euongh for me. Each little humble step I take, The gloom clears from the next; So, though ’tU very dark beyoud, I never am perplexed. And if sometimes the mist, h mgs close, So close I tear to stray, Patient I wait a little while, Atid soon it clears away. 1 would not see my further path, For mercy vails it so; J/y present s'ep-s might harder be Did 1 the future know. It may be that my path is rough, Thorny, and bard, aud steep ; And, knowing this, iny strength might fail Through fear and tenor deep. It may be that it winds along A smooth and fl j wery way ; But, seeing this, I might despise The journey of to-day. Perhapsmy j*th is very short, My journey ie nearly done, And I might tremble at the thought Os ending It so soon. Or, if I saw a weary length Oi road that I must wend, Fainting, I’d think, “My feeble powers Will fail me ere the end.” And so I do not wish to see My journey or its length ; Assured that, through my Father’s love, Each Step will bring its strength. Thus step by step I onward go, Not looking far before ; Trusting that I shall alw vs have Light, for ju-t “one slop more.” M ISCKI.LA N KUtJ.s. THE liCIIATIBLi; BOOTS. A POLICE hERO, ANT’S STORY. ‘And this is our museum.’ remark ed the good mi Hired | olice sergeant in charge ; ant] so saying, ho selected a key from the hunch and unlocked a do rthut ranged with the ceU-d.sus and looked like one of them. The in terior disclosed showed the cupboard to he of console aide capacity Af tixed to the wails wee shelves ami l looks on and.about which were be stowed about as irrsrei fine us a lo of goods as one can wci) imagine ‘This i> w here wo keep ou waifs and strays ’ said the sergewm ; we have a c ear out ■ very month, and judging from our stock, I should thing the day can t be far off.’ Articles ot wearing apparel chiefly were the wail's aud stray- in question I hero was women’s shawls and man ties, in many cases torn and ruined in ibo brawl that possibly eo-t tlie popri etress ber liberty, and with the mud baked hard and dry on them; there were bonnets and bats with fa Is and feathers attached, and parasols more or less sound an I fashionable ; there was an elaborately worked petticoat once white, which the sergeant in formed me one o! his men had strange ly enough discovered it suspended across the rail of a slree lamp post Os male a tire the collection was scarce ly as large and various, and was in deed, mainly confined to hats and coats and traveling shavv s. Hube sides these, there was an extensive as sortinent of baskets, ana carpet and leather bags, walking sticks and u:n brelias, bewdt s just such bundles as a thief might drop in ttie beat of he chase, glaa en ugh to escape o umch easy terms. Hut what chi fly attracted my at tention whs a pair of clumsy boo e, ut ter y worn out, with hee s aslant and with holes Iretted in their upper part, blue as bilberries with mildew, against which the russet ru«t of the battered nail heads showed to advan ;age. ‘These articles look as though they had lain here considerably longer 'ban three mon.hs,’ 1 remaikod to the ser geant “Aye, indeed, it must be nearer tis teen months than three when they w re last thrown in here,’ he replied, tak ing up one of the ankle jacks by its tongue and regarding it with evident interest. ‘Why were they not turned out at the last clearing ?’ The sergeant smiled. ‘They are tin common boots—privileged boots sir,’ said he. ‘I very much ques ion if the price of the handsomest pair tha ever were made would buy these old jacks cut of the hands of the man who sets such store by th- m ’ ‘I should like to be informed in w hat respect they are valuable,’ 1 remark ed. •Take them in your hands sir and see if you can tiiid them out for your self.’ Hut I could make nothing of them except hat they were worn out rob b ah, fit ouly to be 'brown on a dung bil. ‘Th n I w'ill exp'ain to you in wT at e-setico of their value . ones s sir They were • nee the pro, erty of u mur derer !’ if a murderer V ‘Of a man w Uo was lumped at oriheumrde «*f bii- grandfather-’ con Willed the sergeant, slop) ing to ft mV er the iujot that in my horror i L?,h dropped. ‘You r« collect the «hm> nr I (lure say. About as cruel u tuuidcr as ever was di n«, I thinK, that was. > 1 through drink ’ •But why are -hey iho more valu able for the reason you assign ?’ I ask ed. DAWSON, GA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY «7, 1808. •If you will come and sit by the fire I’ll ’ell you how they came to he ac counted worth preserving,’ he oblig ingiy lemarked ‘As, perhaps yon may reoollect,’ he began, ‘the poor wretch I allude to was appointed in this precinct, and the way in which he cafne lo leave his boots here was simply this From the time of his eoinmi ting tho crime till he made his way to the city, he got no re-', but tramped on and on, Hay and night, more miles than I should like to say speaking from memory. He trumped till his lcet were blistered and swollen, and when he came into tne office—ihis office—one night be tween 11 and 12 o’clock, saying to me: ‘ls this a place where a murderer may give himself up for punishment ?’ He was barefoot, and carried his boots —these boots—slung by their thongs at the end of hie stick with his litt-e bundle. ‘But that isn’t about him that I have anything to say. All I need say is that his lcet being too bad to admit of his being able to get his heavy old boots on them an easier pair were got for him, and I believe he was hanged in them. Anyhow, his old ones were left here, and thrown into that cup board . ‘Well, there they lay for over two months And now I must tell you that two years ago the most trouble some customer this not over polished and genteel neighborhood furnished us was a drunken horseshoer—a middle aged man, a big broad-chested fellow, who could drink a quaitof whiskey When he chose to work, there was not one of his cralt mere c ever and dex terous, so that any time in three days he o uld earn as much as a p odd mg man in a week. The consequence was that he never worked more tnan three days, and gave up the rest of hi- time to drinking and bragging ol his abili ty ‘You would never have guessed ti at he earned good wages, judging fjvm his appearance. No hlng bu rags covers > i,jin an ri he Lad never a pair of decent shoos to his teet, so hut when he went to work, ihey were glad ri> keep him a the hack of the shop for -huine’s sake. Saturday was bis grand day, and almost certain ns the night came, he would be biough # hero drunk and incapable of anything but ha io jtig and swearing, to lodge His wile, ,'unday alter Sunday—a decent little woman enough— used to bring him a bit ol dinner, and we used to lot them si together while he ate in his cell, tliinkii g that i- might make him feel his degradation, and tend to ins mending ‘Blit it was all of no use; there seem ed m> more rhnnoe ol mending him t 1 an there is of minting a rotten apple sound. 8o he grew worse and worse. One Monday morning, in the depth of winter, just as .hey were turning him out, (we never took him before the magistrates if we could avoid i ) t noticed tiiut he was without the tatter ed old shoes he gene ally wore ; so I bethought me of 'he old boots lying idle in the cupboard, and, cnlliug him. go. them out “see if you can squeeze your feet into these If you don’t sell them lo gin, 'hey may carry you along for a month or so.” “No fear, cuss the gin, 1 ’ he replied as he squatted down on it stool lo pull ibe bo ts on ‘1 tsll you whtit it is Bill Herd,” I says o him ; “if you don’t alter your couiae, these boots will lust quite long enough to carry you to a mad house; or worse sti 1, perhaps to the place where 'hey left their last own er.” ‘•To the gallows. Tii v are Tom. Patten’s old hoots You know the man 1 al ude to.’’ •J|v dear sir, it was a sight to see him tlien I assure you. He started up with a yell, and held out the foot with the boo> on it as though something in it was stinging him and causing him Irightlul pa n, while his staring eyes w ere so bloodshot, and his limbs trem bled as though shakeu by palsy Then he got the boot oft, and then standing with his naked feet on ihe cold stones, he seemed changed from a drunken brute to a sober mao. “I’d rather walk my bones bare than wear’em. I’m bad enough, the Lord knows —no better that: a bru e ; but I ain’t bad as yet to wear a mur derer’s boots. I hanky for the les son, however. My feet shall have a scrubbing to-day if they never did be fore.’ ’ ‘Well, the story seemed to amuse us awhile, and the de esteit boots were stung buck into the cupboard again v\ e had no doubt that the •’les son’’ he had received would wash out in the first quart of hecr he drank, alld tna , as ij-ual, we should have to I'oviiie him lodgings nil 8a UldaV mght When we found that he did Uot trouble us, we Set it down m our mind- that hewn- l. — that be had drank l.imsell dowu to a bed of sick ness at last. *l wo thiee weeks passed, and then, one day when 1 was silling here alone, Hill Hold made lis appearance For the moment l didi. I observe that lie was accompanied. ‘Hete again !' said I, reaching up lor the ixaige Iks k , ami then 1 uo lice. thut-IM* was n. I .hi y aa.iic, hut llial • e was perfectly so or alld IIIU. Il belter dreeeeU lliuii 1 hud ever seen him •‘W hut uo you warn ?‘who brought you here? 1 tiskud him. “Nobody sir,’ n-ivpitd. 1h .v eu t becll orubn - tiaVe- t touched so much us a glass ol gm since you saw me. It is ber aiiss T fear that lam jus' on the brink of breaking out again Ilia 1 have ventured here to ask of you a lavor.’’ • Wlmt is it ?” “1 want you to ;» ve me or sell me the boos that toe onged to—to— nevermind who--you know sir,” be asked me. “What! Patten’s b ills ? Surely you duu" mean those ?” •'No others, sir It isn't because that 1 haVen.t got a puir”—and as he spoke he held up one of a very good pair—“but becuute I leel like fading out of my fright, and want another dose to ho and me quiet.” “Yon may have them and wel come, Bi I,’’ .-aid I, and I couldn’t, for bear laughing at the recollection; "you stripped ’em off pretty quick the last time you had them on ; how ever you shall have them, il you fancy them.” “Then you’re wrong sir,” he re plied, with an earnestness that was Btartlmg. ‘-It’s no fancy. It is because I hate’em that i want ’em; and what is more, I want ’em to wear ’em Nothing weaker than them horrid thing- is strong enough to hold me back from the drinK. Gopd resolu tions won t do it—all that my wife can beg and pray is not equal to it.— I've kept it off for three weeks now; but you don’t know- what I’ve suffered. It is worse than hungering for bread, is thirsting for gin, when once you’ve made it your food. It haunts me. It peeps out at me in brimming mean ures and in tempting wide mouth ed glasses from the dark corners of the shop. I sweat of it the h>trder-I work, and its tickling down my face drives ms mad, almost. I go to bed at nights only to dream about it For the Lord s sake, let me have the boo s; I sha 1 never be aide to make a strong stand against temptation until I have tb< m ou *’ ‘Of course you would bare had no hesitation in giving httn what he de sired, after such an appeal ? I remark ecf. ‘Ol course; I got them out for him at once. -There they are, my lad,” said I. •‘lf they only do.half un much good us you imagine they would be cheap at a hundred do lars ” ‘So he to ik thun, thanked me hear tily, and away he went No one knew his strange fancy but mvsolf, and I resolved o say nothing about it. ‘‘lf lam not mistaken,” l thought to my self, “the who e ne ghbortn od will hear ol it soon enough for after he was gone it occurred to me, and caused me no little tin atsiness that, unhinged as tile man’s mind evidently was his wearing of th detestable boots w ould provide the fini Ling stroke, and pres ently we should hear of drunken Bill Herd being an inmate of a lunulio asy lum ‘But lam glad to tell you that I was mistaken—altogether mistaken His hunger for drink aus so violent, and the dread of its cffectsPso tortur ing, Unit the remedy tie chose against it proved not a Hit <>o strong. FteliDg uneasy about him, t kept my eye on him. aud saw that he ucl; to tiis> pur pose inunlutly. I not him as though by -accident die next day, as Le was rent riling from work, and tie .(inched his cap cheerfully, at tne same time glancing down at his feet, which were encased in the boots. I .-aw hm a many day after that, thn ngh six months, till one 1 Monday morning, a healthy and respectable gentleman, he made his > appearance bero with a parcel in his bund. "I thought that I should find you alone, sir,’’ suid fie. "I hoped so I’ve brought back the boots. I can do without Yni at met, 1 do b. pe and be lieve.” And then he went on to tell me of the struggles he had en ured. and in which, aided by the b ots ho had con trived o come oft victorious. •On.e,’ said lie—‘that was three weeks uLer you were so kind as to lei me have ’em—l had worn them every day, and 'felt so btrong in my mind that 1 thought I v ould give my feet a holiday , so I brushed my other boots and put them on, and went off to work. But somehow I couldn’t settle down to my tools As I stooped to tne shoeing, the boo's that 1 had so nearly slipped in seemed to mock me, and say,‘You’ll be at it again efore nightfall’ Aud sol believe that I should, had i not, as it were, taken the devil ihut was tempting me neck and crop, and bundle him out. ‘How strong ure you 7 Are you no strong enough to walk to the corner, and g-t just one drink, and out again 7 What sor of a man are you, it you are not strong enough for that? How do you kn< w that you ure not cured until you are tested V’ •co Ife t fie old ’im coming over me. I didn't stop a minute then but luving my too s aside I ran home every step, aud got into my ugly, make sure boots agalu Hu that s a long time ago, and 1 think 1 urn a 1 right again ' ‘Don t make too sure, Bill,’ I remark ed. I don’t mean to. sir, else l should have i unit my make-sure*, or thrown ’em away ; as it is, . bring ’em back tor you to mind for me 'f you will tie so kind—at tne same time hoping and pruiing ttiat I may never want ’em ’ •And 1 don't sup(«>se that he ever will,’ s.id the sergeant in conclusion, ‘I r it’s over a year ago since he pull ed them oft uud now he is a rising man, w .tb a shop of hi* own.’ Out wt'Sf, instead of asking a mail ■•Wfui will j. o drink ?” they now »«y, ‘•Nominate your poison.” From the Macon Telegraph. The Politienl future of the Negro. This is the queetio irxata of modern ! times. Opinions upon it are at diverse 'as they are upon tho true and orthodox | path to eternal bliss. Southern men, 1 who know the negro bo-t, are quite as divided as the omniscient saints nf the 1 North, who claim to kunw everything ! and peer into tho futuie by tospira ion i Tnis imaginary light from oo high is, perhaps the least reliably of all impres sions upon the mind of man, and yet the entire fabrio of Northern political philosophy if built upon it, with self interest as a cement. They have great hopes of the ntgro. They sec in him the elements of equally with the white race aud germs of political greatnesg.— Their legislation is based upon these convictions ; though, while they are willing to ascribe to him tho attributes of the Caucasian race, they ignore, in their blindness or willful folly, the fact that the white man’s motives must fol low the white man’s intellectual digni ty. They have made the mistake of magnifying the negro, and at the same time acting on the hypothesis that he is an imbecile aid gullible creature, ig norant of his own interests and easily deluded into the service of others re gardless of himself. This is Yankee in consistency, and they will find it out before they are through with the busi ness. We have no claims to the gift of prophecy, but, born and raised in the the S iutb, with every opportunity of studying and learning the negro charac ter, there i- ODe thing of which our ex perience has given us the most thor ough oouvictiou : it is, that whatever may b<*nppcarance», under the influence of trauscient causes, tha negro never will be the permanent and reliable ally of the Northern people, and the servant of their interests. He may be made tributary to them for a seasoD, under the delusions put upon him by the un principled and designing, but, sooner or later, be will see his own interests, and no human power will be able to divert him from their pursuit. He has no for cast to link into the fu’ure—no bump ol “easuality” to reason out ef fects tr ui causes, especially where the latter are remote and obscure—but be understands the present aud its bearing upon his welfare and happiness, quite as well as the superior race. And ho will act on the present, bring what ap pliances you will to bear upon him This is shown by his course for the last three years under the operation of im- mediate emancipation. He has known nothing but freedom and the people who gave it to,him. This oue idea has taken postetsiou of hiseutire brain, and be uas not even allowed hiiuself to rea son upon the motives that prompted his sup; Oscd bsuefac'ors, or Ihe eventud i.ff. et i f bis present coudiliou upon his i welfare and happiness. But this thing cannot last always. The stern realities I of life, the cares of subsistence, the real j solid, practical interests of himself, aud 'finally, is a great and passing idea | that must one day take possession of his 1 mind and control his actions. To sup -1 pose otherwise, would be to set him dowu as less than bumau, which would he a great mistake, dt firient as he is.— The North may as well, therefore, give up all idea of permanently controling the Boutbern negro for its own aggran dizement. It is opposed to reason and to all experience. They are building up hopes at an immense cost that must soon fail and topple to the ground. The negro is a Southern man as well as his former master, and there is not one ma> terial point in which their interests con flict. The law must affect both alike, either to build up or destroy. Whatev er embarrasses capital at the South is obliged to be felt injuriously by the la bor which it employs; and the converse of the proposition is evually true; what ever protects and prospers capital brings o rofort at and happiness to labor. When ever the planter or mechsoio is borne down by taxes aud other unjust exac tion, the laborer in Lis employment is bUg. rt to sufl-r bis share of ibe tioub k.. There is no negro so stupid that hi- cunuot comprehend ibis simple truth aud when compn bended, he is obliged io see ihut the interest of the Southern whites and of himself are closely bound up, aud must sink or swim together. And this great practical truth should have its influence upon the Southern negro iu his aspirations for political power. What need has be, in bis ig norance, for such a weapon in bis hand 7 What good can he accomplish that the white man is uot already constrained by he mot potent influence tbit can r. gu.ate the couduct of mec—self-inter est—also to pursue aud gam it possible. In protecting bis own interests, he nec essarily protects the interests of the ne gro, and be can make go wai upon the No. lattcr without destroying himself This is evident. The negro, therefore, being free, and nobody desiring to r’-enslavc him, bis highest policy consists in quiet, industrious labor and efforts at mental afid moral elevation, leaving the great question of government to the while mao, with the firm assurance that all legislation that harms him must also harm the class that enacts it. The ne gro has this unfailing guarantee, and he should rely upon it. Asa raoe, God in His wisdom has made him the infe rior of the white, and be should bow to the decree of •Jtnnipotonoe, resting as sured that £8 he advances in usefulness aud intelliger.ee, be will naturally be el evated to the digoity appropriate to his condition and deserts. Then let the oolored people cease this struggle after political power and im poitance. It is an insane ambition which if gratified, can only result in barm to every class of society. Northern emis saries have told them, with interested motives, that it is neorasary for their protection in person and property. This is false. Iu all the Southern States, as regards their rights of both person and P 9; erty, they havo been placed by Southern men on an equal footing with themselves, and soeiety is bound to see those rights respeoted. Let the uspira tions of the negro stop here, for beyond it all is strife and contention, in which he has nothing to gain, and in the end must lose what is now secured to him. As regards a conflict between the Southern negro and his former master, or, as some have termed it,‘war of races’ we have no fears arising from any re latione subsisting between the two class es. Their interests are the same, and, as a general rule, mutual regard and good will would subsist them forever un less distu bed by wjeked and interested interlopers from abroad, who, liko tbs serpent in Eden, would insinuate them solves into a peaceful home to destiny its tranquility and embitter its inmates- Such people are the enemies of both ra ces, and, as a friend to both, we pray to God they may be delivered from the evil. Reconstruction laws. Conventions oomposed or negroes, foreign adventur ers, and hopeless hunters after office, Loyal Leaguers and other kindred asso ciations at the South, are tho legitimate fruits of this infernal conspiracy againct the peace of our people, both white and black, and, if successful, can only re sult in untold calamity to both, to say nothing of patriotism, it is the highest du'y of every Chrisiian man to sethis face as Biot against the foulest treason rhat man or devils ever devi-ed against both races and the petce and weliare of soeiety. We cannot more appropriately com plete what we have to say on this sub ject than by introducing the following pointed and u 'auswtrable remarks, which we extract from an article in a re cent number cf the National Intelligen cer : We may sa'ely assume, as a general proposition, the truth of which is illus (rated by ell history that masses of men have always been and will always bo governed by their interests. We have no ground to believe that the negroes will furnish an exception to this gener al rule. They are men of inferior stamp and their political action will bo oontroled by what they consider to be their interests. Now let us enquire what are the in terests of the negroes in these great matters, whioh arc of such vital impor tance to the North 7 Is there a single negro in all these Southern States who owes one dollar’s worth of the national debt f I think we may safely answer, “ Mot one 1” Again, is there a single negro in all the Southern States who has an interest in the value of odb dollar in any faoto ry 7 The answer again must be in the negative. Can rational men, then, so far deceive themselves as believe that when the ne gro is invested with political power be will forget hie own interests, and vote to sustain these great interests of the North which are dircotly opposed to bis own ? Will be tax himself to pay tri bute to the bond holders of the North? Will he consent to pay high price* on every fabric which he buys for his fam ily, to fatten the manufacturers of a section to which be does not belong? - Well ho consent to pay to Senator Sprague three, four er five cents a yard on every yard of ootton or calico that he buys for bis family, to s»ell the over grown fortune of that gent'emaD, and the like ? Will he submit to a high tariff on iroo, which embraces probably fifty per cent of the cost of his stove, his axe aed bis hoe, in order that men like Thade u» Stevena may laugh and grow fat ? We repeat, are Republicans credu lous enough to believe these things? Every interest ol the negro is against payirg the national debt, even io green backs much less in gold. A sim ilar motive will prompt every defendant of Ham to oppose, might and main, (ha protective policy. Negro enfranchisement, therefore, means repudiation and f*eb trade, si far as negro votes will go to secure them. It is true, the Northern politicians may secure the negro vote for one or two elections. But after that the negro will begin to look out for himself, and there will be plenty aspirants for negro vo'es—demagogues if you obooee to call them—who will explaiu to the negrosa how dreadfully oppressed they are by taxes to pay interest on Northern bonds and by tariffs to proteot Sorthern man. ufactures. Sambo will see it, or think he sees it, elcarly, and vote to emanci pate himself from these burthens. His own course garb and his wife's gown most net be taxed. A Word lo moth<;ni. Each mother is a historian. She writes not the history ts empires or of natiun on paper, but she writes her own history on the imperishable mind of bar child That tablet and that history will remain indelible when time shall be no more. That history eaeh mother shall meet again and read with eternal joy or unu tTable grief in tbs coming ages of grief in the coming ages of eter mty. The thought should weigh on the mind of all mothers, and render them deeply circumspeet and prayerful and faithful in the solemn work of training up their children for heaven and im mortality. The mieds of children are very SU'- oeptible and cavity impressed. A word, look or frown may engrave an impres eion on the mind of a child which no lapse of time can effect or wash ouL— You walk along the seashore when tho tide is out and you form characters or write words in the white smooth sand, whioh is spread out so clear and beau tiful at your feet, according as your fan cy may dictate; but th3 returning lido shall in a few hours wash out and es face all that you have written. Not so the lines and character of truth or er ror which your conduct imprints on tho mind of your ehild. lhere ’yon writo the impressions for the eve lasting good or evil of your child, which neither the fliods nor the storm es earth can wash out, nor death’s cold finger ean erase, nor the slow reaving ages of eternity obliterate. How careful, then, should each mother be in her treatment of her child. How prayerful and how serious to write tho eternal truths of God on his miud—those truths whichsh.il be his guide and teach her when her voice shall bo silent, in death, and her lips no looger move in prayer in his behalf, iu commending! her dearebild to the covenant of Ged. Thu Child and the Berries. ‘ Loi k, papa,’’ ciied a child, “at the berries I have found.” As his little girl said it, she showed her father her basket hall full of thorn. YVhydid he start ai*d ask. “have you eaten any of (Lem my child 1” ‘No, papa.” “Not one?” '“No, papa, not ore ” He was*vory pale as though some great sorrow had touched him ; but bo murmured, “Thank God!” “Give them to me,’’ be said ; “every one.” “Every one, papa ?” “Y’es, every one; I must fliDg them all away.” ‘ Fling away my pretty black berries that I took so long to find?” “Yes, dear child, they are poison.” There were tears iu her eyes ; but she gave them up ; and he dug a hole tho garden, fl mg them in, stamped 'them t» pi-o's, and buried 'hem. “Why, what are they ?” she asked. When be answered he said, “They are the deadly night shade.” Hast Thou, O Father, ever taken away the berries that it tool: us so long to find ? We know Thou didst it in mercy ; but it waj bard to think so then. Give us faith to trust Thee in this, or anything else Tbou mayest do. A New GeoGkaphy.— Somo smart Yankee is getting upanew geography of which the following is a specimen: First Class , Stand Up. Q‘ Where on the map is New .Afri ca ? A. In North America. Q Where is the Capitol ? A. Wash ington. ' Q Where is the United States ? A, Rubbed out sir ■ Who rubbed it oat sir? A Th* Fortieth Congress. Do they allow white men to vote?— A. Ia somo parts of tbe country. Q. Have they naturalisation laws 7 A. They have. To whom do they apply 7 A. Sim ply to white men, Q. Who is the strogest man ? A. Sambo. Who b the most far seeing man 7 A. Ben Butler. Q How so ? A. Because he often saw silver spoons all the way from New Orleans to Lowell. Make up your' beds early in th® morning j sow buttons on your husband's shirts; do net rake up any grievances ; proteet tie young and tender brauohea «f your family ; plant a smile of good temper in your lace, and carefully root out all angry feelings, and expect a good erop of happiness. How queer that a cook, when she dresses hcrelf, puts ber finery on ; but when she dresses a foul, takes its finery off. She speaks, too, of undressing her self, but never of unpeeliug the pot*- tocs or unskinning the eels. “You had better ask for manners than for money,” said a finely dressed 1 gentleman to a beggar boy, aho bad asked f>r alias. ‘T asked for what I thought you had tbc most of,” was its ' teggm boy’s reply.