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S»lßWa>a2S3i<l>a* VOL. I. ' THE Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday Morning, at two dollars in advance, three dollars at the end of the year—one dollar and fifty cents for six months ; and mailed to country subscribers by the earliest mails, enveloped by good strong wrappers, with legible directions. OCT No subscription received for a less period than six months —and no paper discon tinued, until all arrears are paid. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates of advertising, with a reasonable deduction to yearly ad vertisers. Religious, Marriage and Obituary Notices inserted free j> of charge. Any person forwarding a ten dollar bill, (post ■ Laid,) shall receive six copies, for one year, to be sent ’ to diflereut persons, as directed. {>Cr letters, on business, either to the Publisher or [ Editor, must come post paid to insure attention. POETRY.” I = From the Metropolitan Magazine. SONG OF THE RUSHLIGHT. 0! scorn me biotas a fameless thing, Nor turn with contempt from the lay I sing. ’Tis true I ana not suffer’d to be On the ringing board of wassail glee, My sickly beam must never full In the gay saloon or lordly hall, Yet many a tale does the rushlight know Os secret sorrow' and lonely woe. I am found in the closely-curtain’d room, Where a stillness reigns that breathes of the tomb, Where the breaking heart and heavy eye l\re waiting to see a lov’d one die. Where the doting child with noiseless tread, Steals warily to the mother’s bed, To mark if the faintly panting breath [s fluttering yet in the grasp of Death. [ am the light that quivering flits In the joyless homo where the fond wife sits, Waiting the one that flies his hearth For a ribald crew and drunkard’s mirth. Long hath she kept her wearying watch, Sow bitterly weeping, now breathless to catch l'he welcome tread of a footstep near, fill she weeps again as it dies on her ear.. Her restless eye as the night wears late, Is anxiously thrown on the dial-plate; Did a sigh responds to the echoing sound [’hat tells the hand has gone its round, she mournfully trims my slender wick, D she sees me fading and wasting quick, Did many a time has my spark expired, Did left her still the weeping and tired. am the light that often shines IVliere the friendless child of Genius pines, Yhere the god-like mind is trampled down Iv the callous sneer and freezing frown; Yhere Want is playing a demon part Did sends its iron to the heart, Yhere the soul burns on in the bosom that mourns, Like the incense fire in funeral urns. see the hectic finger fling flie thoughts intense that slashingly spring, Did my flickering beam illumes the page That may live in the fame of a future age ; see the pale brow droop and mope, D the breast turns sick with blasted hope, Till the harsh cold world has done its worst, Did the tortuned spirit hath groaned and burst. ! am the light that’s doomed to share The meanest lot that man can bear; see the scanty portion spread, Yhere children struggle for scraps of bread ; Yhere squalid forms and faces seem, .ike phantom* in a hideous dream, Yhere the ric’k may look witli startled awe )nthe work es poverty’s vulture,claw. )li! many a lesson the bosnmdearns if hapless grief while the rushlight bums; Many a scene enfolds to me I'liat the heart of mercy would bleed to see. Then scorn me not as a worthless thing, N or turn with contempt from the song I sing: Hut scorn as ye will, or smile as you may ; De cannot revile the truth in my lay. ELIZA COOK. DOMESTC ECONOMY. To Make Pie. —Play at blind man’s buff n a printing office. To have Music at Dinner. —Tell your wife ihc is not so handsome as the lady who lives icross the wav. To Save Butler. —Make it so salt that nobo ly can eat it. The great seacret for those who are entering on great employments is, in tlic first instance, to seize upon men’s imagination by some ac tion, or some circumstance, which renders them remarkable. To be born, to marry, and to die, is the whole history' of man and woman. ORIGINAL MISCELLANY. For the Southern Post Recollections of a Medical Student. NO. 111. THE SUICIDE. The associations of early life are generally of the most lasting kind ; and however crow ded may be tiie incidents which throng the lanes of alter years, they-are never able to obliterate from one’s memory the scenes of earlier days, when their innocent hearts had not as yet been blasted by the foul effects of sin. And it docs seem, that at this tender stage of human exis t mce, the affections are more elastic, pungent and active, if they are not capable of" such du rabil tv. With myself, the above remark lias j proven true, in relation to most of those who were the associates of my school-boy days, and though “ a change has passed over the spirit of my dream,” and stern manhood has taken possession of the place occupied by childhood and youth, to meet one such now, is only to revive t ie scenes of buried years afresh to my view, and make me act them over again in the realms of fancy. Tnis, in fact, seems to be mo e the memery of the heart than the mind. Among ot!>crs whose remembrance is hal lowed by me, is the talented and lamented A P -. lie was a youth of rare intellectual powers, and though I did not as- j sociate with him as much as with some others, owing the differance in our ages, 1 ever enter tained a peculiar feeling of interest for him, as one courteous id his manner and amiable and affectionate in bis disposition. Ilis father re sided a few miles from my native village, and though not wealthy was a respectable member of community. At an early age lie was sent to school at E . and from that time be came a member of my father's family. Nor was it long before he began to evidence the dawning of that intellect, for which he was so much distinguished in after life. Having com pleted his academical pursuits, he made choice of the profession of Medicine, in preference to all others, as that which was best calculated to promote the benevolent feelings which he che rished so warmly in the native goodness of his heart ; though it was strongly suspected by some of his friends that he Would never lie able to succeed at it, owing to his peculiar sensitive feelings and uncommonly retiring disposition. This was, perhaps, the strongest feature which marked his moral and intellectual existence, if except t.ie melancholiac temperament which he seemed to exhibit, at particular times to an alarming degree. As an evidence of Ins bashfulness we need only refer to one little item in bis history, which on account ot its strangeness and the ludicrous circumstances surrounding it, produced no lit tle amusement for the wags of the village.— One beautiful summer’s eve, when-every thing around bore the stamp of an unreal and ro m mtic ex stance, he was unsuspectingly drawn into an evening’s promenade with a party of young ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately for himself, he enjoyed a partnership with one who being much older than himsell was better acquainted with the tricks and capers of hu man nature, and feeling some tender associa tion for the coy youth, filled his glass with a tale of love, which made him giddy at the re hearsal, and as silence is said to give consent, n this way, before he knew it, made a tacit ac ceptance of her heart and hand. The cruel jade, chuckling in her sleeve at the victory she had won, was resolved to press her suit still more energetically, and effectually if possible and insisted in a most earnest and resistless manner that their happiness should lie cansu mated forthwith. She seconded tlrese efforts by pulling him after her down to the Parson’s, and though he trembled like a lamb in the hands of its slaughterers, he was afraid to open bis mouth until lie found himself actually in the domicil of the priest of Hymen—an almost an immolated sacrifice at his altar. But then rc mtynbering the Vows he had made his Marga rette, and summing up with one mighty effort all the -self possession of which he was master, lie positively refused to marry her. She per sisted, bus he became frantic in his resistance and so was snatched from the mouth of the snare which had been laid so skillfully to en trap him. Poor Margarette ! how she must have felt to have gazed upon the exhibition of so unnatural and unpleasant a scene. It was not long after this strange rencontre, before A left E —, for Philadel phia, in order to complete his Medical educa tion. His farewell to the one to whom lie had engaged his destiny for life, as well as others who he esteemed so much, must be left for the immagination of the experienced reader to fill up. No doubt so sensitive a mind as his felt much at such a parting, and had it not lieen for the visions of future honors which awaited him he must have shrunk hack from the fearful un dertaking. It was not for him, however, tho’ immersed in studies at a distance, 1o forget the land of his birth, or the dear friends who evi- MACON, (G v.) SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 10, JB3B. ! deuced so much zeal in t.re promotion of his welfare. I have never seen the letters he may h ive written to his Margarette, but often have 1 been permitted to read those he addressed to my father, which were filled not merely with the marks of intellect, but the strongest expres sions of friendship, and the warmest effusions of gratitude. _ Afor receiving the honors of his Medical Alma-nutter , he returned to E , a polite and elegant gentleman, and an intelligent and accomplished physician. Believing that those who knew him best, would be most likely to bestow upon him their patronage, be was not long in determifting to settle in that place, in despite of the overwhelming competition with which he was destined to contend. Nor was it long before his fame as a Surgeon and Physician, had reached to the zenith of all that was enviable in a professional career; and though uncommonly precarious in its character it was not short lived and evancscnt in its na ture, or linked and confined in its extent. As an Occulist there was none who could com pete with him—having in one instance, bound up the bleeding heart of a widowed mother, by restoring her son to the vision which nature had withheld from him for some years, and which many others had failed to accomplish ; his fame was soon borne upon the wings of the wind, and his house made a hospitle for the maimed and diseased of all stages of human wretchedness and suffering. Nor was he alone in these ministrations of mercy to the atllictions of his unhappy race : the lovely Margarette whom he had early wedded, was destined to be the partner of his blessings as well as the sha rer of his woes. And here, let gratitude in scribe a monument to his memory, which has long since been graven in adament upon the altars of a thousand affections. During that awful scourge of Heaven which visited E in 1823 and 4, when scarcely enough of the living were found to bury the dead, our own family were destined to suffer no little from its deadly influences. At that time P was not forgetful of former kindnesses. He atten ded successively upon all the members of the family, with a watchfulness and zeal that knew no abatement, and all the recompense he could Ik- induced to receive for his services was the gratitude oft .ore he had relieved. One might be induced to think from the ex- j hition of a character so faintly drawn, th „t t.ie j most peaceful and happy results must have flowed in one unobstructed clunnel around the altar of his affections, to cheer his despo .dan spirit amid the oppression of the fancied ills o life. But, alas ! by some merciless fate he was destined, like the flexile reed, to tremble before the gentlest breath of summer. He be came the prey of a morbid fancy, and the de monic workings of a vindictive melancholy was seen to ravage wildly upon his manly c.;Ceks. Though called to fill a high station in tiie capacity of Surgeon to his country’s arms, during a war with some of the Aborigi nal tribes, he refused to go without assigning such reasons as wore satisfactory to his friends. All saw that a mighty change had been wrought in bis feelings, though none suspected by w hat unfortunate circumstance that change might have been induced. His domestic re lations seemed to move on under the most be nign auspices, and there was nothing connec ted with his history which might have led one to suspect that he could lie an unhappy man. Whatever may have been the predominant spirit of misfortune, whether fancied or real, vvaich rendered him the prey of a settled mel ancholy, there were certainly a concatenation of unfortune events which subsequently follow ed each other that led to his final ruin. About this time his father was attacked with the pre valent disease, and fur the sake of better ac commodations and readier medical attention, he was moved to the home of ore who had ever he considered other than a friend. Weil j do 1 remember the last visit l paid the good old man, in company with my father. It was im pressed more forcibly upon my memory from the fact of its being the earliest evidence I had seen exhibited of t;.e triumph of Christianity over the grim foe of man. lie died in despite of the exertions of his loud son, leaving a last ing impression upon the minds of all who be held him, of the indestructibility and immortal ity of the human spirit. This Unfortunate e vent which had already proved so unspeakably destructive to the happiness of the son, was made tenfold more pregnant in its effect, from the disgraceful and unchristian disposal made of the corpse. Instead of being decently shrou ded iu the halls of the Great, it was carried like a loathsome and worthless object and deposited in a barn, under the pretence of its infectuous nature being deleterious to the family. The next day some.two three friends, myself among the number, carried it to the country and had !it buried in the family cemetry. Returning from thence, we met Dr. P -, riding in i haste from the chambers of the sick to pay the 1 last honors due the remains of a beloved fa- ther. I have witnessed, in my short career, many countenances exhibiting the effects of misery and despair, but in none of them have I ever beheld more forcibly delineated the all ol wretchedness than in his. Though I could not feel myself the pangs that rent his bosom, I could feel to pity a brother’s woe and weep with him o’er the fate of a ruined family. But this deadly stab to the vitality of his ex. istance was but the beginning of sorrows.— Stroke followed stroke in quick succession, un til it seemed that death would scarcely leave a single member of the family to perpetuate its name to another generation. The young and beautiful Eliza, bis much loved sister, lay at my lather’s house on the very verge of the grave, at the time these wretched scenes were being acted out; and it was but a few days af ter, before she, herself, was taken from these mortal shores, and her remains deposited be side the ficsh mound that covered the form of her father. Under these appalling circum stances the Doctor became almost a maniac. Yet, Mary, his fond, affectionate little sister, had survived the blast thus long ; and his griefs were mitigated whilst he turned his affections and centered them fondly on her. But, alas ! a few weeks had scarcely rolled around, ere all his hopes were blasted again, and he found that his lovely Mary, in the language of Poesy, W'US So often watered by affection’s tears, Secured from every blast and bowling wind, And made the object of untiring care ; While ’neath its roo', unnoticed and unseen, There preyed the lurking worms. The lovely flower Unconscious, withered on its stem and died.” One might lie induced to think that so strange a succession of unfortunate providen ces would have been sufficient to have broken spirits, Formed not with adamantine scarf around,” hut surely, when coining in contact with one so peculiarly sensitive, what better could have been expected than a gradual sinking and giv ing way of the constitution, Such evidently was tire ease in his history. Though it came not upon him with a sudden and desolating crash ; long time bis better judgement held fierce contest with the warring elements of his passions—and Reason, seated upon her throne, contended successfully against tire demoniac spirit, despair. But she evidently was losing her influence in the councils of his intellect, and there was great cause to fear that sire must ultimately Ire dethroned. The first evidence he exhibited of mental hallucination was an attempt to destroy himself, by taking a large quantity of laudnum. 1 lis unhappy wife who had snspected some such design, which was now evidenced by his uncommon somnolency, sent in haste for medical assistance, and by an expeditious use of the stomach pump he was lor this time saved the wretched fate of the Suicide’s grave. For a few years subsequent to this period his history became a perfect blank to me, ex cept what I have heard related by his friends, owing to my leaving E , to wander a broad on the surface of human cxistance to seek in the mines of science the costly stores of knowledge, and gather rich treasures of dear bought experience withal. At the termination of that period I returned to E-—-—, just at t're time when the unpleasant means were be ing put into operation which induced him to take away that existence which God had be stowed upon him for high and noble purposes. 1 met and conversed with him and must con fess was somewhat chagrined, at the seeming coldness with which I was received. But when I learned his eldest daughter was Lying at the point of death I could easily forgive what I had fancied a lack of friendship, on his part; for 1 could read in his countenance an air of wild ness which did not seem congenial with spirits in this sphere ofexistance. The next morning as I was passing the street, the bell-man handed me a notice of the death of his child, and an invitation to the fu neral that afternoon. Poor P ! from that moment his destiny seemed to have been sealed. He was never himself again, and from circumstances which subsequently showed themselves, it was believed that the death of his daughter was a prime mover to the perpe t: ation of the horrid crime of suicide. He was known to be very mild and equable in his tem perament, but a few days before bis child’s ill ness on account of something she had done which displeased him very much, he had struck her once or twice with his whip—tire only time she had ever received such a correction in her life. The sensative little creature was thrown I into a fever, as her father was said to have be lieved from this very circumstance, being con stituted, like himself, with a most attenuated nervous system. During her illness she would evince for Irer father the most exalted affec tion, and if premonished of her coming desti ny, would say, “ Oh, Pa ! it is no use to give m« any medicine, fyr I cannwt live !” distracted parent suspected himself the cause of all he affliction, and would seemingly', by his actions, entreat her to live tor his sake if for nothing else. I?ut it was all in vain, and in a few days she became the victim to a fever sup posed to have been induced by her peculiar morbid sensitiveness of mind. From this time his friends began to suspect his intentions more seriously than formerly, as many of them could see in his manner the wildness of a diseased mind. These fears were soon proven to be too well grounded. One day he callod upon a young lawyer, and with more sprightliness of manner than usual, ask ed him to lend him a pistol, saying he wanted to destroy some rats which anneyed him very much in his shop. Without hesitation, Jus friend loaned him the pistol, and he returned to his office, and in a very few moments the re. port was hoard by several individuals who were in the neighborhood. Two or three per. sons who were in the rear of his shop, having seen him just the moment before standing at his back window with u wild, distracted air, immediately ran to see why he fired the pis. tol. To their utter astonishment, they Iburid him lying on his back, a perfectly mangled corpse. He had placed the pistol under his chin, which blew off the cap of his skull, und loft some of the remnant of his once active brain attached to the ceiling above. Ile had given no person the least intimation of his in, tention, and seemingly made no preparation for such an event, as regarded his temporal con. cens. Though from his earliest youth he had been a strictly pious man, and professed strong faith in the merits of the Redeemer, and doubt lessly had it not have been for the influence of a morbid sensitiveness which he could not mas ter, would have been one of the last to have laid violent hands upon himself Many were the conjectures made in relation to himself; many the reasons urged why he perpetrated the deed ; but after all it remains enshrouded in the same mystery which has ever hung ar. ound it. Unlike other suicides, he never left the least scrap of writing by way of farewell to his wife or friends, or as tiie expression of those unfortunate feelings which had led him to so unnatural a crime. For myself, I was always consoled with tho idea that no one who had possessed such feelings as himself, in relation to Christianity, could have ever committed such a deed while in a state of perfect sanity. And I doubt not that the virtues of my unfortuate and unhappy friend, will yet tell for him in the day of eternity, Reader! if you have Ire, come interested in his history, you may see the little spot where his remains repose so sweet ly, free from the ills of this incongenial life, in the church-yard at E , and you may read upon the marble slab that covers his grave — “ Sacred to the Memory of Sleep, troubled soul, in lonely silence here, Far from the giddy and unthinking crowd 5 While sentiment lets fall an humble tear, Worth more to thee than marbles to the proud.** MEDJCUS. For the Southern Poet. Tliere lived some years ago, in one of the districts of South Carolina, an individual known by the name of George Waltham, whose singular habits attracted much atten. tion. Having heard of this strange person age, curiosity induced me to call upon him. He met me at the door and politely asked me to walk in ; after a few moments convt rsa tion, he absented himself, and in his absence I took a survey of the apartment. I never saw a more wretched abode—an old clothes chest, a ricketty old table, and two chairs com. prised the main portion of the furniture. After a brief interval he returned, and ob. served, “ I suppose, Sir, you are curious to know who, and what I am; the coarsest rui ment, the simplest food, and a bare shelter from the storm, are the limits of my bodily wants; and as for my mind, riches cannot purchase it happiness. I will now endeavor, irksome as is the task, to recount to you the cause of my living so secluded from all socie ty* I once lived in an atmosphere of sunny smiles, amid the gay and cheerful, and among the latter, there was one pre-eminent, who was robed with surpassing beauty ; her breast was whiter than the feathers which veil the hire 1 of the Penquin; her cheeks surpassed t rose opening to the morning sun; her fi e eyes had a mixture of sensibility' in them which spoke feeling to the soul; her shape and ere -. plexion, the eveness of her teeth, the brU t. ness of her fine hlack hair, and that air of sprightliness and mirth dispersed all over her person, were as toueing and engaging as the languishing softness of an Isadora. I became passionately fond of this young lady, and was incessantly haunted with the idea that fate had destined us for each othe.. At length I wrote a letter, and sent it to her NO. 20.