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by P. c. PENDLETON. V OL. I. tiie ©©ws'SHßrnss’ ip®©^ Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday Morning, at three dollars tit advance, focr dollars at the end of the year— two dollars for six months; and mailed to country subscribers by the earliest mails, enveloped by good strong wrappers, with legible direc tions. No subscription received for a less period than six months—and no paper discontinued, until all arrears are paid. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates of advertising, with a reasonable deduction to yearly ad- JCT Any person forwarding a ten dollar bill, (post paid,) shall receive four copies, for one year, to be sent 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.