Newspaper Page Text
by P. c. PENDLETON.
V OL. I.
tiie
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Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday
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to different persons, as directed.
QCr letters, on business, either to the Publisher or
Editor, must come past paid to insure attention.
POETRY.
From the Sonthern Literary Messenger.
THE MOURNER COMFORTED.
BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
“My boy was beautiful; and he is dead !
Ask me no more ; for I would be alone—
Alone, to weep.”
Long flowed that mourner’s tear;
And then, beside the Bible, she knelt down,
Laying her cheek upon it’s hallow’d page,
And said, “ God comfort me
And as she closed
The fervent prayer, methought a still small voice,
Bade the swoln surges of her soul, be still ;
That He, who walk’d upon Tiberia’s lake,
Ruling the midnight storm, might thither come,
An J save from shipwreck.
Then, with pang subdued,
Memory went wandering to the lov’d one’s grave,
Marking in every bud that blossom’d there—
In every joyous butterfly, that spread
Its radiant wing amid the flowers—a type
Os glorious resurrection. Every drop
Os dew, that sparkled on that turf-clad mound,
Was holy to her. Even the bitter grief
That made the parting hour so desolate,
Put on the robes of humble faith, and said
“’Tis well, my Lord—well with the little one
Who dwells with thee."
And then, methought, she heard
Sweet sound of heavenly harping?,—and behold,
Celestial gleamings of cherubic wings,
And ’mid the chant of ransom’d infancy
Unto its Saviour, caught the tuneful voice
Os her own cherished nursling.
So, her lip
Join’d in the praise. For how could she forbear
To thank her God for him, who ne’er should taste
Os trouble more.
Was it the tender tone
Ofhim, so often cradled on her breast,
That whisper’d, as she lay that night,in dreams?
11 Oh mother, weep no more ! —but with a heart
Os holy love, hold on yon shining path,
And come to me. For He, who took on earth,
Young children to his arms, will bid in Heaven
The mother find her babe. So keep thine eye
Clear from the grief-cloud—for the time is short—
The way is plain. Dear mother, come to me.”
MISCELLANEOUS.
From the Baltimore Patriot.
THE CONTENTED FARMER.
“ Was there ever such a person known as a
contented farmer ?”
The talented editors of the American and
Commercial Daily Advertiser, in their paper
of Thursday, ask the question which I have
placed at the head of this article. I answer,
yes, there have been, and there arc now thou
sands of contented farmers. Roll back the
pages of ancient history. Let us for a moment
go back to mighty Rome, where agriculture
was held in the highest estimation, and where
such men as Scipio, practised and praised its
delightful pursuits. Here too we see the great
and truely glorious Cincinnatus, guiding a
plough, and refusing the brilliant offer of a
crown—and such a crown—the crown of the
mistress of the world. Was not the farmer
Cincinnatus happy, when he gave up, or ic
fused the grandeur of a throne, and all the
pomp, the pride and pageantry of royalty, for
the peace and quiet of his domestic hearth ?
To him the open field waving with golden
grain, the shady woodland, and the great
church of Nature, were more attractive than
the splendors of Rome, “the Niobe of nations.”
Far dearer to him was the humble cottage of
his childhood, than the grand and gaudy palace
of the Caesars. He was contented, and what
cared he for the renown of the proudest poten
tates that ever swayed the sceptre, or the
mightiest heroes that ever baptized the world
in blood ? The great book of Nature was
open before him ; and the morning hymns of
the feathered choir had more charms for him,
than music in the brilliant halls »f the. city of
Cajsars. In the beautiful flower that bloomed
at his door, he saw an emblem of mortality—
in its fragrance and beauty he fancied the
virtues of human character, and in its fragile
nature he saw an emblem of the mutability of
man.
1 then ask the question, was not such afar
mer contented, when for his farm he refused
all the grandeur and glory, all the pomp and
splendor of Roman power? Happy in his
humble home, he despised the crimson robes
of royalty, and the deceitful adulation of cring
ing courtiers. Cincinnatus was emphatically
a contented man.
There are a few illiterate farmers, whose
idiosyncrasy leads them to constant com
plaint ; —they are never happy, they are never
contented. lam aware that it is in the nature
of man to complain ; it is a part of his consti
tution ;it is his make. But nevertheless, there
■re hundreds, nay thousands, of contented
farmers. Do you ask the reason why I think
Devoted to Literature, Internal Improvement, Commerce, Agriculture, Foreign and Domestic News, Amusement, &c.
so ? I well tell you. I think he should be
the most contented of mortals, because he has
the greatest reason, the greatest cause to be so.
In the first place, the farmer is the most inde
pendent of all men, for he is dependant on none
but God. He sees the rain descend upon his
green fields and lifts his heart in gratitude to
that sublime Being, who guides and governs
the universe. He can produce all he needs;
his house is a pattern of neatness, and his
daughters models of innocence and virtue.
They know not the ho'low-hearted ness, the
coquetry and frivolity of the city. Like the
poet Moore’s charming girl,
“ They blush when you praise them,
And weep when you blame them.”
Seated around the homestead hearth upon
a winter’s evening, who is so happy as the
farmer?
“ The children, a group, cluster round,
All smiling thro’ roses of health:
Oh where can those riches be found,
Surpassing the husbandman’s wealth 1
And oh ! if there’s gratitude due
From all to the Father of love,
How oft should the Father renew
His thank for those gifts from above.”
The farmer’s family is n family of health.
They show not the delicacy and disease which
I arrass the pampered sons of the city. True,
they have not the refinement, the knowledge,
and the luxury which are common in the city ;
but at the same time, they have not the acute
ness of sorrow and suffering which they bring
with them. Industry is the watchword of the
farmer’s family.
“ For love of wealth some got ensnared
In speculation’s toils,
And others when disasters come
Are scrambling for the spoils;
Still does the prudent Farmer pay
To industry his vow,
Nor heeds the struggle nor the strife,
But steady guides the plough.”
I have tasted of the luxuries of the city and
the country. I have stood in the halls of
grandeur and wealth, surrounded by pomp
and pride; and I have talked love to the sim
ple, but sincere and beautiful girl, in the cot
tage. Ah, yes, I have knelt at the feet of the
proud, haughty, and beautiful lady, seated on
the splendid ottomon. But where did I find
most contentment, most happiness ? Not in
the lordly halls of wealth, for pomp and gran
deur ever carry with them, like the rose, a
thorn ; while the modest lily carries nothing
but its loveliness and charms. I love the hu
man race, whether they shine in the gay and
gaudy saloons, or move in the silent fields.
But I do firmly believe, that the farmers of
our country are the happiest and most con
tented men on the earth. I believe their wives
and daughters to be patterns of neatness, in
dustry and virtue. In ancient Rome the far
mer was considered the most respectable of all
professions, inasmuch as his was the ground
work of all, and from him they derive their
sustenance. There are many weak minded
persons now, who, because wealth has raised
them above the necessity of following a pro
fession, affects to despise him, alfect to look
down upon him with contempt. Why? Be
cause he labors in the field, to feed such fellows
as he. It is always a mark of ignorance in a
man who despises honest industry and judges
a man’s character by his profession. How
often is the mechanic thus unjustly condemn
ed. MILFORD BARD.
A FORTUNATE MISTAKF
The accidental circumstances which fre
quently bring medical men into extensive prac
tice, or that notoriety which may lead to it, is
truely curious. It is well known that a most
eminent English practicioner owed all his
success to his having been in a state of intoxica
tion. Disappointed on his first arrival in Lon
don, he sought comfort in a neighboring tavern,
whence the servant of his lodging went to
fetch him one evening, after a heavy potation,
to see a certain Countess. The high sound
ing title of this unexpected patient tended not
a little to increase his excitement. He follow
ed the liveried footman as well as he could,
and was ushered in silence into a noble man
sion, where her ladyship’s woman waited to
conduct him most directly to her mistress’s
room ; her agitation most probably preventing
her from perceiving the doctor’s state, lie
was led into a splendid bed-chamber, and went
through the routine practice of pulse feeling,
&c. and proceeded to the table to write a
prescription, which in all probability would
have been mechanically correct; but here his
powers failed h ; m. In vain he strove to trace
the salutary characters, until wearied in his
attempt, he threw down the pen, and exclaim
ing, “ Drunk by G—!”—made the best of his
way out of the house. Two days after he
was not a little surprised by receiving a letter
from the lady and a check for 100/., and the
promise of her family and friends’ patronage,
if he would observe the strictest secrecy of the
state he found her in. The fact was, that the
Countess had been indulging in brandy and
laudanum, which her Abigal had procured for
her, and was in the very condition which the
doctor had so frankly applied to himself.
Millcngen.
CONSIDERATE.
Pat Hogan once riding to market with a
sack of potatoes befoi e him, discovered that
the horse was getting tired whereupon he dis
mounted, put the potatoes on his shoulders,
and again mounted saying—“ it was better he
should carry the praties, as he was fresher
than the poor the baste.”
MACON, (Ga.) SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 6, 1838.
THE JEW OF HAMAH.
Once upon a time, there lived in Hamah, a
certain Turk called Mustapha, who, having
accummulated some wealth by carrying on a
trade in goat’s hair, determined to make a pil
grimage to Mecca. His family consisted of
his wile and two slaves; and as the lady in
sisted on not being left behind, the good man
resolved to sell off his stock of goat’s hair, to
take all his household with him, and to shut
up his house till his return. The only diffi
culty that presented itself, was what to do
with his money. He did not like to run the
risk of being robbed of it on his journey thro’
the desert, he did not like to leave it in an
empty house, and there were not any of his
friends to whom he wished to trust the secret
of his wealth. After much deliberation, he
placed it in seperate parcels at the bottom of
five large earthen jars, which he then filled up
with butter, and on his departure sent them to
the house of one of his neighbors, a Jew named
Mousa, to keep till his return, telling him that
it was a stock laid in for winter consumption.
The Jew, however, from the weight of the jars
and other circumstances, suspected that they
contained something more valuable ; and as
soon as Mustapha was fairly on his way to
Damuscus to join the caravan, he ventured to
open them; when, finding his expectations
realized, he took out the gold and filled them
up again with butter, so carefully, that nobody
could tell they had been disturbed. The
poor Turk, on his return from the pilgrimage,
soon found out the trick that his neighbor had
practised upon him ; but as the jars were ex
actly in the same apparent state as when he
left them, and as there was no evidence as to
their contents, it was plain that no legal pro
cess could give him any redress. He, there
fore, set about to devise some other way of
punishing the Jew, and of recovering, if possi
hie, his property; and in the meantime he did
not communicate his loss to any person but
his wife, and enjoined on her the strictest se
cresy. After long consideration, a plan sug
gested itself. In one of his visits to the
neighboring town of Homs, where he was in
the habit of going to sell his goat’s hair to the
manufacturers of the mashlakhs, for which
that place is famous, he fell in with a troop of
gipsies, who had with them an ape of extraor
dinary sagacity. He prevailed on them to
sell him this animal; and conveying it pri
vately to his house at Hamah, shut it up in a
room to which no one but himself had access.
He then went to the bazaar and bought one of
the dark scanty robes and the small caps or
kalpaks, with a speckled handkerchief tied
closely round it, which is the prescribed cos
tume of the Jews throughout the Turkish cm
pire. This dress he took care invariably to
put on whenever he went to visit his ape ; and
as he always carried him his meals, and indeed
never allowed any other person to sec him,
the animal, in the course of a few weeks, be
came extremely attached to him, jumping on
his neck and hugging and caressing him as
soon as he entered the room. About this time,
as he was walking along the streets one day
lie met a lad, the son of the Jew Mousa, and
having enticed him into his house by the pro
mise of some figs, he shut him up a close pri
soner in a detached apartment in his garden, at
such a distance from the street, and from the
other houses in the town, that the boy could
not discover to any one the place of his confine
ment. The Jew, after several days’ search
not being able to gain any tidings ofhim, con
cluded that he had either been drowned, or
had straved out of the town and had fallen
into the hands of some wandering Bedouins ;
and as he was his only child, fell into a state
of the greatest despair ; till at length he heard
by accident, that just about the time that the
bov was missing, he had been seen walking in
company with Hadgi Mustapha. The truth
instantly flashed on his mind, and he recog
nized in the loss of his son some stratagem
which the Turk had planned, in revenge for
the butter-jars. He immediately summoned
him before the cadi, accused him of having the
boy in his possession, and insisted on his im
mediately restoring him. Mustapha, at first,
strenuously denied the fact; but when one of
the witnesses positively declared, that he saw
the boy go into his house, and when the cadi
was about to pronounce the decree, that he
should bring him into court dead or alive—
‘ Yah Utah, el Allah /’ he exclaimed, ‘ there is
no God but Allah, and his power is infinite ;
he can work miracles when it seemeth good in
his sight. It is true, effendi,’ continued he,
addressing himself to the cadi,that I saw tlicJew
Mousa’s sou passing by my house ; and for the
sake of the old friendship subsisting between
his father and myself, I invited him to come in
and to eat some figs which I had just been
gathering. The boy, however, repaid my hos
pitality with rudeness and abuse ; nay, he even
blashemed the name of our holy prophet; but
scarcely had the words passed his lips, when,
to my surprise and horror, he was suddenly
changed into a monkey. In that form I will
produce him : and as a proof of what I tell you
is true, you will see that he will immediately
recognize his father.’ At this instant, a ser.
vant who was waiting on the outside let loose
the ape into the divan, who seeing that the
Jew was the only person present in the dress
to which he was accustomed, mistook him for
his master, jumped upon him, and clung round
his neck with all the expressions of fondness
which the child might have been supposed to
exhibit on being restored to its parent. No
thing more was wanting to convince the au
dience of the truth of Mustapha’s stoiy. * A
miracle, a real miracle !’ they cried out,‘great
is Allah, and Mahomet is his prophet:’ and the
Jew was ordered to take the monkey, and re-
tire from the court. A compromise w r as riow
his only resource ; and accordingly as soon
as it was dark, and he could go unobserved, he
repaired to Mustapha’s house, and offered, if
he would liberate his son, to restore all the mo
ney which he had taken from the butter jars.
The Tuik having attained his object, consent
ed to release his prisoner; but in order to keep
up his own credit, he stipulated that the child
should be removed privately, and that the la
ther, with his whole family, should quit the
place. The popular belief in the miracle thus
remained unshaken; and so great was the dis
repute into which the Jews fell in consequence
of this adventure, that they all departed one
after the other, and none have ever since
been known to reside in Hamah.
From the Knickerbocker.
THE “ COCKNEY CORONATION.”
There is ‘liberty of the press,’ in abundance
in London, and not a little licentiousness, also.
At any rate, there is a fearlessness, in some
of the newspapers, that shrinks at nothing.
When half Europe and the whole British me
tropolis were ringing with the georgeous cere
monies of the coionation of Queen Victoria,
one of the journals presented one of the most
laughable burlesques of the whole affair, which
we ever remember to have read. The entire
series of ceremonies and ptocessions were ta
ken up in order and travestied in ludicrous de
tail. The initial movements are thus recorded ;
“ Precisely at seven o’clock, her Majesty
was taken out of the royal bed, and nicely
washed and combed, and curled. At eight
o’clock, she was ensconced in a clean pinafore,
and a pair of bran new red morocco shoes
were placed upon her little feet; after which,
her breakfast, consisting of a beautiful bowl of
bread and milk, was given to her, and as her
Majesty was soaking a piece of state bread in
the basin, Lord Melbourne was heard to say,
that her Majesty never looked more lovely.
At ten minutes to ten o’clock, a squib was let
ofiTin the gardens of Buckingham Palace, to
announce that the procession was ready to
start; and before the clock over the stables
at the back of the Palace had ceased to strike
the hour of ten, the procession began to move.”
Among the materials of the procession, we
find the following, mixed up with other gro
tesque selections, in the most laughable juxta
position. We are told that a knowledge of
some of the personages mentioned, add greatly
to the effect of the burlesque :
* Lord Melbourne, swinging on a slack-rope, in a cara
van lent lor the purpose;
An old woman in a red cloak ;
The Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of the City, in a hor
rible state of intoxication;
Two old women sucking oranges ;
Bir Charles Wetherell, in anew pair of Pantaloons ;
The editor of the Court Calendar,in his robes, halfdrunk;
The editor of the Times, in his robes, quite drunk;
Avery stout Irishman carrying a hod;
A Jew with sealing wax ;
Sixteen boys in nankeen trousers ;
Tlte wig of the Lord Chancellor, on a pole,
By Lord Brougham;
The laughing Hyena, from the Zoological Gardens ;
A Jew with slate pencil;
Lord John Russell, mounted on a Jackass ;
Old gentleman in a bed gown, night-cap carried by
A Pot Boy;
A Jew with oranges ;
A dray-horse from the London brewery,with a nose-bag,
His tail carried by a page.’
et cetera, et cetera. The performances at
Westminster Abbey, in the * regale-her,’ ter
minate as follows:
“ With her mother and Iter home secretary,
her Majesty, suffused in tears, was conducted
to the Coronation chair, where the Archbishop
of Canterbury rubbed away like a good un at
her head, with lamp oil, and the bye-star.ders
asked if any thing was the matter with her
Majesty’s upper story. No sooner was her
Majesty’s head dry, than a pa*r of silver gilt
spurs were clapped upon her royal heels, and
the male and female nobility immediately next
her sacred person, gave way, believing that her
Majesty might take it into her head to ride
about the Abbey, cock-horse, in which case,
if they remained, they would stand the chance
of receiving more kicks than half-pence. The
treasurer of her majesty’s horse next advanced
with the crimson bag containing the duplicates,
out of which her Majesty took one and re
deemed the sword of justice. This done, her
Majesty knelt at the feet of the Archbishop of
Canterbury, and his Grace, embracing her,
hung round her august neck a string of sau
sages. The muffin was then placed in her
hand, and blessed, the palm of her hand being
crossed with a couple of shrimps; a red her
ring was next held beneath her gracious nose,
and lastly, she took a thundering swig at a pot
of porter, in so elegant a manner as to excite
the admiration of all present. While her most
gracious Majesty was taking her fill, the Arch
bishop of Canterbury sucked at the barley su
gar ; the Lord Bishop of London ate a sand
wich ; the Dutchess of Kent bolted a water
cress; the Duke of Wellington pocketed a
radish; the Marquis of Westminster nibbled
the choese; and the squibs and crackers in
the parks proclaimed to the populace without,
that the ‘ raree show’ was over.”
THE SPIDER.
Astonishing Curiosity. —On the evening of
the 13th ult., a gentleman in this village found
in his wire-cellar, a living striped snake nine
inches long, suspended between to shelves, by
the tail, by a spider’s web. The snake hung
so that he* could not reach the shelf below him
by about an inch, and several large spiders
were then upon him sucking the juice. The
shelves were about two teet apart ; the lower
one was just below the bottom of the cellar
window, through which the snake had probably
passed. Promt the shelf above there was a
web in the shape of an inverted cone, 8 or 10
inches in diameter at the top, and concentrated
j C. R. IIANLEITER, PRINTER.
to a focus at about 6 or 8 inches from the un
der side of this shelf. From this foo.us there
was a strong cord made of the multiplied thread
of spider’s web, apparently as large as common
sewing silk, and by this cord the snake was
suspended.
Upon a critical examination through a
magnifying glass, the following curious facts
appeared :—The mouth of the snake was first
tied up by a great number of cords wound
round it so tight that he could not run out his
tongue. His tail was tied in aki ot, so as to
leave a small It top or ring, through which the
cord was fastened, and the end of the tail above
the loop to the length of something like over
half an inch was lashed fast to the cord, to
keep it from slipping. As the snake hung,
the 'length of the cord, from the tail to the focus
to which it was /listened was about six inches ;
a little above the tail there was observed a
round ball about the size of a pert.
Upon inspection,this appeared to be a green,
fly, around which a cord had been fastened to
the cords above, and from the rolling side of
the ball to keep it from unwinding and let the
snake down. The cord, therefore, must have
extended from the focus of the web to the shelf
below, where the snake was lying when first
captured ; and being made fast to the loop
in his tail, the fly was carried and fastened
about midway to the side of the cord. And
then by bowing this fly over and over, it
wound around it both from above and below
until the snake was raised to the proper height,
and then was fastened as before mentioned.
In this situation the poor snake hung alive,
and furnished a continued feast for several
large spiders until Saturday afternoon, the 16th
when someone by playing with him above,
broke the focus, so as to let part of his body
rest on the shelf below. In this situation, he
lingered, the spiders taking no notice of him,
until Thursday lasi, when some large ants,
were found devouring the dead body.
Batavia (N. Y.) Times.
MARRIAGE.
“Nothing,” says Addison, “ but the good
qualities of the person beloved, can be a
foundation for a love of judgement and discrc-'
tion; and whoever expects happiness from
any thing but virtue, wisdom, good humor,
and a similitude of manners, will find them
selves widely mistaken. But how few there
are who seek after these things, and do not
rather make riches their chief, if not their only
aim! How rare is it for a man, when he
engages himself in the thoughts of marriage,
to place his hopes of having, in such a woman,
a constant and agreeable companion! One
who will divide his cares, and double his joys !
Who will manage that share of his estate lie
entrusts to her conduct, with prudence and
frugality, govern his house with economy and
discretion, and be an ornament to himself and
family! Where shall we find the man who
looks out for one who places her chief happi
ness in the practice of virtue, and makes her
duty her constant pleasure ? No: men rather
seek for money, as the compliment of all their
desires ; and regardless of what kind of wives
they take, they think riches will be a minister
to all kinds of pleasure, and enable them to
keep servants, dogs, horses, to drink feast and
game with their companions, pay their debts
for former extravagances, or some such vile
and unworthy end ; and indulge themselves in
pleasures which are a shame and scandal to
human nature. Now, as for women, how few
of them place the happiness of thair marriage
in the having a wise and virtuous friend ! One
who will be faithful and just to all, and constant
and loving to them ! Who with care and dili
gence will look after and improve the estate,
and without grudging allow whatever is pru
dent and convenient! Rather, how few aro
there who do not place their happiness in out
sh ning others in pomp and show—and who
do not think within themselves, when they have
married such a rich person, that none of their
acquaintances shall appear so fine in their
equipagt, so adored in the persons, and so
magnificent in their furniture as themselves’
Thus their heads are filled with vain ideas ;
and 1 heartily wish I could say, that equipage
and show w ere not the chief good of so many
women as I fear it is.
“ After this manner do both the sexes de
ceive themselves, and bring reflections and
disgrace upon the most happy and honorable
state oflife; whereas, if they would but correct
their depraved tastes, moderate their ambition
and place their happiness upon proper objects,
we should not find felicity in the marriage
state such a wonder in the world as it now is.”
KISSING A LADY.
In a French xvork, recently published, the
memory of Queen Hortense, by Madame Co
chelet, an amusing anecdote is related. At
the time of the marriage of Jerome with a prin
cess of Wurtemburg, among the princes at
Napoleon’s court, was one who used daily to
visit Fanny de Beauharnois, god mother to
Queen Hortense. He never took leave of
her without pressing one, and sometimes both
checks to hers, and on one visit, after having
been more than usually affectionate, he left
her to go to the Tuilleries, where he had been
invited to dine with the Emperor. He had
scarcely entered when one of the footmen ap
proaching him respectfully, told him that his
cheeks were quite red ; and turning to a mir
ror, his highness discouered that the rouj. e
from the cheeks of his old friend Fanny Beau
harnois, had been ‘struck off’ on his own.—
Removing this unnecessary coloring, he was
announced to the Emperor ; and in gratitude
to the valet, procured him a pension of 1,200
francs.
NO. 50.