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TIME RUM*UUIjICi
IS rUBLLSHED EVERY WEDNESDAY,
OVER J. D. WINN’S BRICK STORE.
COTTON AVENUE, MACON, GA.
A T SB,OO PE R ANN UM,
IN ADVANCE.
RATES OF ADVERTISING, See.
One square, of 100 words, or less, in small Ivpc,
75 cents lor the first insertion, and 50 cents for each {
subsequent insertion.
All advertisements coniaining inure than 100 and
less than 200 words, will be charged as two squares.
To yearly advertisers, a liberal deduction will be
made.
Sales of Land, bv Administrators, Executors,
or Guardians, are required by law to be held on the
first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of
lon in the forenoon, and three in the afternoon, at
the Court House in the county in which the pro
perty is situated. Notice of these must be given
in a public gazette, sixty days previous to the day
of sale.
Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate,
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary lor leave to sell land, must be publish
ed four months.
Sales of Negroes must be made at public auc
tion, on the first Tuesday of the month, between
the legal hours of sale, at the place of public sales,
in the county where the letters testamentary, of
administration of' guardianship, shall have been
granted, sixty days notice being previously given
in one of the public gazettes of tins Slate, and at
the door of the Court House where such sales are
to be field.
Notice for leave to sell Negroes must be pub
lished lor four months before any order absolute
■hall be made thereon by the Court.
All business of" this nature wilt rcreH-e prompt
trktefrtion at the office of THE REPUBLIC.
BUSINESS CARDS.
FLOVD HOUSE.
BY B. S. NEWCOMB.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. 1-tt
WHITING & MIX,
WTtOLFSALE and retail dealers in
BOOTS AND SHOES,
Near the Washington Hall, Second street.
Macon, Geo. '' i. Oct, fl, I s l 1. l-ll
.1. L. .i« »\! .s & CO.
CLOTIII N(i STO KE.
West side Mulberry Street, next door below the
Big llat.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, IS 11. l-tl
NISBKT Sc WINGFIELD,
ATTOII NE V S A 'l' UA W .
Office on Mulberry Street, oxer Kimberly's llat
Store.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. I—ft
DOCTORS J. M. 4c H. K. OREEN,
Corner of Mulberry and Third Streets.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. I—tl
u . . Clt OSS,
Has f o r Sale
DRY HOODS if GROCERIES,
boots, shoes, cars, and hats,
.11 John t). Win ns Old Store.
Macon, Ort. 15,1844* -“ ,r
FREEMAN & ROBERTS,
Saddle , Harmss, and II hip,
yi A N I I A < T O Et V .
Dealt rs in all hauls »J !■' a{her, Satldlciy
Hat urns and Carnage Viimmings,
On (J<ninn Avenue and Second street, Macon, Ga.
October 23, 1844.
JOSEPH N. .SEYMOUR,
deal.br in
DBA WOODS, 4» HOC Eit IE S, IIAIID
WARE) etc.
Briek Store, Cherry Sired. Itatslon s Ratine, first
door below liusseit <v Kimberley s.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. l-ll
* ~ GEORGE M. LOGAN,'
DEALER IN
EANU’V AND *TAa*a,e< DRI WOODS.
Hard-H are, Crockery, Glass Ware, &c. &c.
Corner of Seconu and Clierry streets.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. l-ll
“T>. iV wl YY
DEALERS IN
SX A I* U E Wll i WOODS,
Groceries, Hardware, Crockery, &c.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1811. 1-ti
SAMUEL J. RAY & CO.
DEALERS IN
FASCY AND STADI.E DRV WOODS,
Ready Made Clothing, Hats, Shoes, tec.
Second street, a lew doors from the \\ nsliinglon
Hotel.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 18,1844. l-ll
REDDING & WHITEHEAD^
dealers in
FANCY AND STAPLE DRY GOODS,
Groceries, Hard H are, Cutlery, Hals, Shoes,
Crockery, flee. &c.
Corner of Colton Avenue and Cherry strtets.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. l-ll
B. F. ROSS,
dealer in
I) K V GOODS AHD CKOCF.BfKS.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. I!*, 1844. l-tl
J. M. BOA RDM AN,
DEALER IN
LAW, MEDICAL, MISCELLANEOUS
and School Books; Blank Bonks and Stationery
of all kinds ; Printing Paper, &c. &.C.
Sign of the J.argc Bible, tiro doors above Shol
tvell's corner, west side of Mulberry Street.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1841. l-tl
B. It. WARNER.
AICTIOA AA'D COM.TIISSIOS MER
CHANT.
Dealer in every description of Merchandise.
“The Public’s Servant,” and subject to receiving
consignments at all times, by the consignees pav
ing 5 per cent, commissions lor services rendered.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1544. l-tl
Marriage. —Tacitus says :—“ Early
luarrrage makes us immortal. It is the
soul and chief prop of empire. That
man who resolves to live without woman,
a| nl that woman who resolves to live with
out man, are enemies to tlte community in
which they dwell, injurious to themselves,
destructive to the whole world, apostate
lr °m nature, and rebels against Heaven
a **d earth.”
‘ Did you know I was here ?’ said the
bellows to she fire,
‘ < >h, yes. 1 always contrive to get the
Wind of jou,’ was the reply.
‘I am not fond of such vanities,’ as the
P'S said to the ring in his snout.
loin Thumb’s kisses sold fora shilling
a piece in England. Prince Albert sold
ils > hi a lump, lor half a ervtut.
BY 11. C. CROSBY.
VOLUME I.
M!SCEL L A N Y .
From Graham's Magazine.
THE LITTLE LOST SHOE,
i OH FIELD IMG J.V SE.IRCH OF and FOOT.
ltY FRAXCIS S. fSGOOD.
CHAPTER I.
What a musical shriek! Henry Fiel
| ding was wandering through a noble wes
tern wood, at sunset when the sound star
tled him from a profound reverie, and loo
king up, lie beheld at u distance a young
,girl, motionless with terror, gazing as if
i fascinated, upon an immense snake, ap
parently just coiled for a spring. Harry
raised his hunting rifle, aimed, fired, and
the monster lay writhing in the agonies of
death. But whither had the wood nymph
flown? She was no where to be seen ;
and vexed and disappointed the young
; man wandered on. He had caught but
a glimpse of a youthful and picturesque
i looking creature, with wild, gazelle-like
eyes and parted lips, her soft, dark hair
and snowy robe floating in the breeze, and
Iter bauds clasped in terror.
He hurried forward, hoping he might
overtake her. Suddenly he sees a prize
in the path, and stoops to pick it up.
What can it he? Is it a bracelet? A rib
bon? A ring? No, gentle gttesser, it is a
little black kid slipper, of the daintiest and
most graceful proportions imaginable.
Harry was sure now he should overtake
her, for she must limp poor thing! with
that little shoeless foot; unless, indeed, she
had wings, which he was almost afraid
jshe had.
Suddenly he came upon two paths, di
verging from the one he was in. Here
was a dilemma—which should he take?
The right or the left?—There was no time
to lose. He chose the right, which pro
ved the wrong after all; for it led straight
to a pond in the depths of the wood, and
left our unlucky friend hut one of two al
ternatives, to drown his disappointment
in the templing water, or to retrace his
j steps and try the other. With an enligh
tened wisdom, and a profound moral cour
; age, which did him honor, our hero chose
the Lit ter, and that led to his own home in
the village, where he ought to have been
l at least three quarters of an hour before,
and not have ki pt every body waiting for
dinner. Upon the whole, it would have
been better if he had staid away altogeth
er for lie poured the water into his aunt’s
plate, instead of her tumbler, and put mus
tard into her tumbler instead of her plate,
and when she asked to look at a newspa
per, took out of his pocket the poor little
shoe, and placed it gravely in her out
stretched hand.
“Hatty Fielding, what uponairth ails
you, and what in the world is this?’’ ex
claimed the astonished old lady, peering
into his face with her little gray eyes, from
which she had moved the spectacles to
wipe them.
Harry replied by seizing the shoe and
rushing out of the house. On he Went, up
one stieet arid down another, looking in
vain for the fairy foot of the forest Cinder
ella.
As he approached the inn of the village
lie saw entering the stage-coach, which
was just ready restart, a lady thickly vei
led, in a very elegant travelling-dress.
Harr}’ ran forward with a sudden misgiv
ing. One little foot, in its neat gaiter
boot, was already on the step —shesprang
lightly in—the door closed—the driver
cracked hi? whip, and ere our hero reach
ed the spot, the coach was half-way down
the street.
I It was she! he was sure of it. She had
gone, perhaps forever ! and Harry Fiel
ding sauntered listlessly on, humming
“What’s this .full town to me.”
and looking ns if lie had not a friend in
the world.
CHAPTER It.
‘Are you looking for any thing, my dear
I fellow?’" said Charles Seaton, meeting a
j friend in Chesnnt street, about a month
| after the occurrence of the incident men
tioned in the last chapter.
•What large feet you Philadelphians
have 1’ was the rather irrelevant reply.
‘Large! auenntrarie —they are. famous
for their small ones.’
‘Well, here is my model,’ said the other
sighing deeply, and taking from his pock
j et a tiny kid shoe.
‘That.is, indeed, ‘a trifle light as air!’
exclaimed Seaton. ‘lntroduce me to the
sylph who owns it—and 1 will take you
to see la belle Julie this very evening.’
‘Hang la belle Julie! Havn’t 1 been
wasting a whole month in search of the
foot to which this little slipper belonged?’
And Fielding proceeded to relate the his
tory of his adventure with the wood
nymph.
‘And you acknowledge you have was
ted a month in this ridiculous search?
Take my advice, Harry, resume your
law studies at once, and forget your wood
nymph as fast as possible. \\ hat would
your father say if lie knew of this roman
tic folly?’
Harry colored a little at this frank re
prooffrom his open-hearted friend; but
after a moment’s pause, he replied sadly
—‘You are right, Charles; but ifyou know
what a beautiful dream I resign, in adop
ting your advice, you would not wonder
at my reluctance.’
He did resume his studies; but he could
not quite forego the lone and lovely hope
which gleatped like a morning star in the
heaven of his future, and now and then a
vision of an exquisite little loot, pure and
white as alabaster, would glaucc across
MACON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25, »SU.
the dull, dry page of Coke upon Littleton,
or put even Blackstone to the blush.
CHAPTER ill.
‘Mamma ! darling mamma ! you are suf
feringlbra thousand things—do let mego.’
Yes, my sweet child, you must indeed
go now. 1 tear I have already delayed
it too long. But you will have a quarter’s
salary in advance, and that will more than
discharge the few debts we have incurred.
Go now, dear, while 1 dare let you go.’
Julia SuGeorge repressed her starting
tears, tied on her little crape bonnet, (she
was in mourning for her father,) kissed the
pale cheek of the invalid, and set forth on,
her errand with a beating heart. She had
been offered the situation of a governess
in the family of Mrs. Beaumout, a banker’s
widow, and she was going to accept it.
Mrs. Beaumont received her with a
cold hauteur calculated to chill her into
humility. Her eldest daughter, a delicate
aristocratic-looking beauty, languidly rai
sed her glass —surveyed Iter for a moment
—then let it drop, and resumed Iter book.
But both felt in an instant, the superior
ity, the innate nobility ot the person upon
whom they affected to look down.
Dressed in deep mourning, and with
the most tasteful and graceful simplicity
her dark hair parted plainly on her brow
her beautiful face radiant with spirit, fee
ling and intellect, Julia St. George wal
ked calmly up the room, bending Iter head
with perfect self-possession, in return lor
the haughty greeting of Mrs. Beaumout,
while the slightest perceptible curve of her
lovely lip betrayed Iter consciousness of
the manner in which she was received,
the lady pointed to a chair —the visitor
seated herself with provoking composure.
‘You have come, 1 presume, Miss St.
George, to say you accept the situation 1
propose to you.’
“1 have, madam,’ was the reply, in a
low, calm, but most musically modulated
voice, and I should like to enter upon my
duties at once, it agreeable to you.’
Mrs. Beaumont hesitated —Miss St.
George was evidently not a person to he
put down —and her serene dignity, the re
sult of a self-respect, which that lady
could neither understand nor appreciate,
might possibly prove troublesome—but
then, on the other hand, the example of
her evident high-breeding would be inval
uable in forming the manners of her hith
erto untamable little Ange.a, while her at
tainments were such as were rarely to be
met with, even in a governess.
‘I will let you know in the course of a
week,’ she said at last.
‘lam sorry, madam, to disoblige you,’
replied Julia, as quietly as be fore ; “but
I cannot wait a week for your decision. It
is necessary that 1 should secure a situa
tion of some kiud immediately.”
‘Oh, very well; if you are in such haste
perhaps you had better look elsewhere.’
‘Good morning madam !’ said Julia at
once.
‘Stay !’said the lady hastily, ‘upon the
whole 1 think you will do. You may
come to-morrow ilyou like.’
Miss St. George calmly bowed her as
sent and was about to take leave, when a
wild, graceful, little creature burst into
die room exclaiming —“1 will see the go
verness !’ Her white, embroidered frock
was torn and soiled, a profusion of soft,
glistening amber-colored hair, in the ut
most disorder, clustered round a pale, hut
singularly lovely countenance. The large
dark, Oriental eyes were r insLatuly cast
down on meeting those of the stranger,
their long jet black lashes resting with a
slight curve on the colorless cheek beneath
the lull, yet delicate lips wore of the rich
est red imaginable, and her attitude of un
concious, childish grace was charming, as
she stood fora moment, silently twisting
in her pretty fingers the ribbons ol a gipsy
hat. The next instance, however, she
looked up again into the eyes which had
awed her at first, for Julia had lingered
in the room absorbed in surprise and ad
miration, and seeming to gather courage
from their expression of earnest interest,
the child went timidly up to bet, and clim
bing into bet arms, whispered half aloud —
‘Willyou love me very much, and
praise me all the time; and never, never
punish me?’
‘1 cannot promise all you ask, darling’
—began Miss St. George—
‘Angela, lam ashamed ol you!’ exclai
med Mrs. Beaumont; ‘you arc always
making scenes! Go to your room and have
vour Itair brushed, and your dress chan
ged immediately.’
Angela pouted and clung to the neckol
her new friend ; but Julia kissed the pout
away, and putting her gently down, re
peated her good-morning n> the stately
ladv of the mansion and her indolent
daughter, and departed.
CHAPTER IV.
•Oh, mamma! she is beautiful, and so
affectionate—l shall be very happy, 1
know.’ ,
‘ls she, dear? Then I must confess 1
am agreeably surprised, i have always
understood that she was very Cold hearted
and any thing but beautiful.’
‘What! Angela?’
‘Who is Angela ? 1 was speaking of
Mrs. Beaumont.’
Julia laughed and shrugged her pretty
shoulders; she had forgotten all the un-
I pleasant occurrences of the morning in the
| flight with which she thought of the love-
I ly and loving little girl who was to be con
fided to her care.
PRO PATRIA ET I.EOIBI’S.
CHAPTER V.
‘lf you can manage that child,’ mutter
ed the nurse, as site consigned Miss Ange
la to her new governess the next morning,
* you will do more than any one else ever
did—that’s all I’ve got to sav.’
‘I will tell you a secret, il you will pro
mise never to tell,’ whispered the child to
Julia, as the door closed upon the nurse!’
‘But I cannot promise never to tell, dear,
for that would be wrong.’
‘Well then you may if you like ; but I
know you wont. You see, the reason they
can’t manage me it because I try to be
naughty before mama and nurse!
‘Oh, Angela! I am sorry for that.’ \\ hy
do vou do so ?’
‘Because they make such a fuss .about
every little tiling. 1 like to hear them
scold—it’s so funny. Besides they never
let me have any peace except when they
sjmt me up, .and then I have real good
times, allby myself, it) the little bedroom
next to the nursery. They shut me up
once in a dark closet, but I did’nt like that
because 1 eould’nt see any thing there ; so
1 screamed just as loud as I could, and
they thought 1 was frightened, and 1 was’
nt a bit; and now they always put me in
the little room, and 1 pull the clothes off
the bed and make it all up again nicely,
and then I lake off'my apron and dust the
chairs with it; ami sometimes I climb up
on the bureau, and play ‘fish’ with a bent
pin and a piece of thread. Olt, it’s real
fun to he punished! 1 wish mamma ;
would punish you and me together some
times, anti we’d have grand times play
ing fish ! But I suppose grown up peo
ple never need punishing. They arc- ;• I
wavs good— aint they ? M irntna never
seems to think she ought to he shut up.
Did you ever play fish?’
‘Yes, dear, when l was a little girl. But
can’t you have good times, without being I
naughty first, Angela?’
‘No indeed ! They wont let me do any
thing 1 want to. They say I mus’nt climb
for fear I shall tear my clothes; and I
mus’nt run, for fear I should get heated ; j
and 1 mus’nt read much, for fear I should
make my head ache ; and 1 mus’nt sew
for fear I shall stoop. They don’t waul
me to do any thing out ol school hours,
hut just si*, up stiff, ‘like a lady.’ Why I
should I lie a lady when 1 aint a lady ? I’d j
rather be a child, and be like a child—
had’nt you ? I don’t think ladies are half
as happy as children-—do you"? Oh, dear!
il l only had something to do, all the lime.
T don’t believe l should ever be naughty,
or unhappy either—that’s all I want, some
thing to tlo! Do till little girls have a
mam mu at borne, that keeps plaguing them
and fussing over them ?’
Alternately surprised, amused, and
grieved as the little indefatigable chatter
box thus run on, Miss St. George saw the
difficulty of the task before her. She saw
the weeds and flowers struggling together
in that rich but neglected garden, her pu
pil’s heart; and she felt how difficult it j
would be to destroy the one, without inju-j
ring tiie other. But she resolved to bend
her whole energies to the work, and she
was sure to succeed in time.
In the course of two or three months,
the little Angela, visibly improved. Her
hair and dress were not often out of order
she was seldom disobedient, or disrespect
ful, to her mother or her nurse ; and ifshe
were ever so, a word, a look from Julia 1
had the desired effect. Passionately fond
of books and of her teacher, there was no
fear that her intellect would be neglected.
The great difficulty seemed to keep her
ever-restless imagination in check ; with
out any companions ot her own age, she
was in the iiabit of sui rounding herself at
her studies and her play with the creations
of her limey, to whom she gave most ro
mantic or high-sounding names she could
make up at the moment. These little vis
sionary friends she would address in terms
of endearment, reproach, or expostulation
reply for them, and carry on the conver
sation until she forgot that they were un
real.
One morning she was sitting in the
school-rooui surrounded by empty chairs,
in each of which she had placed a little in
visible schoolmate, and was asking them,
in turn, to spell all ttie hard words she
could call to mind, when her sister enter
ed to speak to the governess, and ignorant
of the mischief she was doing, seated her
selt in one of the ‘tabooed’ chairs. The
little girl, excited by her interesting play,
burst into a passion of tears, exclaiming,
“Get up, quick! quick! You will kill
that darling Cariellu !’ and, living to her
astouished sister, endeavored to pull her
trout the chain
Julia now saw, for the first time, the
evil tendencies of this habit, and, fearful
almost forthe reason ol her charge, begged
Mrs. Beaumont to allow thecliild real flesh
and blood playmates.
CHARTER VI.
But what have we done with our hero?
lias he found the lost foot yet? No !he
lias almost given it up ; but he has become
an attache to a lbreign embassy, and is
quite a pet among the higher circle in Eu
rope, where a true, frank, honorable and
intelligent American is always received
with favor.
Mrs. Beaumont, her daughter Victoria,
and her niece, Miss Adelaide Sinclair,
wore in ‘perfectecstasies,’ lor George the
only son, who had just returned to En
gland, from a continental tour, was expec
ted home, to pasSthe cbrislmas holidays
allheir country seat" and was to bring
with him the wealthy, talented, and dis
S- 31. STRONG, Editoii.
NUMBER I I.
tinguished Henry Fielding, and his plea
sant friend, Mr. Seaton.
Julia St. George had gradually become
a favorite in the family. Once secure of
a position among them worthy of her tal
ents and refinement, she was quite willing
and ready to unbend, and to make herself
agreeable and obliging to all. The young
ladies soon discovered that nothing could
be clone without the assistance, the ad
vice, thesympulhy oflittle Angela's taste
ful and kind-hearted governess, nqd even
the cold and stately mother li It her heart (
softened towanl one who had- lievoieci ,
herself so tenderly and so successfully lo j
the improvement of her child.
On the day of their arrival, the young i
meu did not linger long over their wine!
alter dinner, lor George was anxious |o
renew an old flirtation with his spirited ,
cousin; Seatou had heard much <*f Victo
ria, and Fielding always enjoy. #1 ilie so- j
cietyofan intelligent mid interesting wo- :
man more than any tiling else.
Fielding seated himself near Victoria, j
and admired her work, ‘tl is for it friend j
said she; isn’t it a tiny shoe?’
‘I think I can show you a smaller
one, 1 said Fielding, and impelled by a
sudden impulse, he drew from his bosom
tin' liille kid slipper of his wood-nymph.’
Adelaide caught it playfully from his
hand. ‘A prize~a prize!’she exclaimed
trying to hold it upout of his reach. ‘As 1
live, here are verses, on the sole ol it!
Listen, good people,” and she began—
‘Little treasuse, light and—”
“Nay!’ remonstrated Fielding, in the
same gay tone, ‘no one shall read the verse
who cannot wear the shoe.’
Adelaide's satin slipper was olFin a
moment, but the shoe was too small; she
tried in vain lo squeeze her pretty foot in
to it.
‘Come, Vic, said Iter brother, ‘let me
try it on you—if it don’t lit somebody, we
shan’t have the verses.
Victoria languidly put out her foot, hut
in vain, it would not fit.
‘I know somebody it will just suit,’ ex
claimed little Angela, in an eager tone. —
‘Miss St. George has the cunningest foot
in the world, only she never shows it.’—
Fielding drew the beautiful, earnest child
toward him, and Adelaide, Hying to the
governess, dragged her forward, laughing
and blushing, into the circle.
‘La belle Julie! by all lliaL’s wonderful,’
exclaimed Seaton, in a low tone, as they
approached.
‘Hung la belle Julie 1’ murmured a sweet
and playful voice, and the next moment
ihe young governess was cordially shaking
hands with her well-remembered friend,
Mr. Seaton, who could scarcely believe
his eyes or his ears.
‘lntroduce me,’ whispered Fielding.
‘Miss St. George —Mr. Fielding. Years
ago, in America, my friend was promised
this introduefion.’
‘Yes, ami l happened to hear his polite
reply to your proposition,’ saitl the lady,
laughing.
‘Whitt was it?’
‘To the best of my recollection, it was,
‘lJang Li belle Julie!’ 1 walked into a
stiop to avoid hearing the rest of his cour
teous adjuration. What had I done to tie
serve hanging, Mr. Fielding?’ she asked,
turning gaily toward him, with her lovely
smile.
‘Oh! stop! no matter what you had
done. Don’t you see that poor man is out
of his wits with consternation ? Try the
shoe at once!—there’s a dear—-and let us
hear the verses. They ought to begin—
‘Sole of my soul,’ but men so seldom nay a
graceful compliment.’
Fielding was perfectly enchanted with
“la belle Julie.’ iie gave but one sigh to
his wood-tiyirtph, and, almost sure that his
verses were sale, formally a belle had tried
the shoe in vain, he said, ‘\es Miss St.
George, prove that you generously forgive
my thoughtless lolly, by putting on the
slipper ’
As Julia took the shoe from his hand,
colored deeply, and gazed from it lo him
with a bewildered look, which was infin
itely amusing to all but our awakening
hero.
That look! He felt a strange thrill as
lie met it! Could it be? ‘Fray try the
shoe at once,’ he exclaimed in an agitated
voice.
Miss St. George had recovered her self
possession. Seating herself, site drew the
shoe with graceful ease upon her perfect lit
tle foot, and looked up into Fielding’s eye;
such a look! so eloquent, so full of won
der, joy and gratitude, that his wild hope
changed at once into conviction. He had
found her at last ! His wood-nymph ! his
Cinderella ! his morning star.
Adelaide clapped her hands in exstney.
‘The verses —the verses! read the verses,
Miss St. George, it fits exactly 1 1 should
think it was made lbr you ! The verses !
we will have the verses !’
And poor Julia was obliged to read, in
her low, soul-tuned voice, the lines on the
sole of tire shoe.
Little treasure! lig'u nml airy,.
Didst thuii clasp the dainty loot
Os a wondering woodland lairy ,
Flying from a sylph's salute.'
Or did some ytrung mortal lace line,
Tripping ’.villi elastic tread,
Ail too softly to deface thee,
Where her sweet, wild fancy led .'
Tell me what her woman-passion : 1
Was’t in bend ihv graceful sole,
la the gay saloons of fashion, -#
While along ihe dance she Rlole.
Or. through upland glen and valley,
Hast bio’.i pttbsed the I Hippy Hoima:
"IY I me, <lul .she luve to ilullv.
Mid the fragrant ivmidland bowers?
Did the prairie blooms caress thee,
breathing balm around thy tread?
S.i the heart where bow i press thee,
All its wealth lor her shad shed.
‘1 should judge from all I see and liear,’
said Seatou, in a sly, demure tone, ‘that
Miss St. George could show, ifshe chose,
the mate to this wonderful shoe/
‘Oh, what is it?’ exclaimed the lively
Adelaide, ‘There is some romance attach
ed to it, 1 know. Tell us all about it, Mr*
Seaton—there’s a r.ice man.’
The story was told, the mate was
brought down, and slyly exchanged in the
course of the evening with Fielding for
that he had cherished so long, anti Julia
was pursuaded, ere many months had
elapsed to leave her pet Angela, and re
ward with her hand, anil ‘her heart in it,’
the untiring devotion of her lover.
Retorts on Barristers. —Sergeant Coc
kle, vho was a rough blustering fellow,
, mice got from a witness more than he
-;nve. In a trial of a right lo fishery, he
asked the witness, ‘ Po’st thou love fish ?’
• Aye,’ replied the with a grin, ‘ but I
donna Ike cockle sauce with it.’ The
mar ol laughter which echoed through the
court rather disturbed the learned ser
. geanL There is an anecdote something
i similar related of Sergeant Davy, a great
lawyer of the first age. A gentleman
once appeared in of King’s
Bench to give bail in ihe sum of -£15,000.
Sergeant Davy wanting to display his wit,
I said to him sternly, ‘ And pray, sir, how
do you make out that you are worth A3,-
300:’ The gentleman stated the partic
j ulars of his property up to A3,1)40. —
| ‘ That’s all very good,’ said the sergeant,
•hut you want AGO more to he worth a3,-
000.’ ‘ For that sum,’ replied the gen
tleman, in no way disconcerted, ‘ I have
a note on hand of one Mr, Sergeant Da
vy, and I hope he will have the honesty
soon to settle it.’ The laughter that this
reply excited, extended even to the bench;
| the sergeant looked abashed, and Lord
Mansfield observed, in his usual urbane
| tone, ‘ Well brother Davy, I think we
j may accept the bale. Dr. Brodum, a no
torious quack, was once tinder examina
tion by Mr, Abraham Moore. ‘ Your
name is Brodum. 1 believe,’ inquired tbe
counsel. The doctor nodded assent.-
•Pray how do you spell it—Bro-dutu or
Bred-hum?’ On this there was a loud
laugh iu the court, which was not dimin
ished when the quack replied with much
admirable self-possession, ‘ Why, sare,
as I be but a doctor, I spell my namo
13rod-hum ; but if I were a barrister, 1
should spell it Bredhum! Dunning,
while examining a witness, asked him
if he did not live at the very verge of the
court. ‘Yes, 1 do,’wax the reply. ‘And
pray why have you selected such a spot
ibr your residence ?’ ‘ln the vain hope
of escaping the rascally impertinence of
.dunning,' was the felort. A witness with
a BarthJjihiun nose coming in Dunning’s
way, he said lo him, ‘ Now, Mr" Cppf er
-1 nose, yon have been sworn, what do you
say?’ ‘Why, upon my oath,’ r ’plied the
witness, ‘ I would not exchange my cop
per-nose for your brazen-face.’
Interesting Trial. —Jonathan Burr, of
Washington county, New-York, died re
ci nlly, leaving a large fortune to his sur
viving son, Charles Burr. This last per
son, now 53 years of age, is well known m
Albany, being a harmless insane man, who
for years has wandered about the streets
selling almanacs and pamphlets. He has
not fur many years received a farthing's
aid from the old man, who was a misera
ble old miser, unbearable in all his social
and family relations. To test the sound
ness or unsoundness of Charles Burr’s
mind, and his capacity to manage the for
tune thus suddenly left him, the ChanceD
lor issued a commission appointing Brad
ford It. W ood, Esq.,and Drs. T. R. Beck
and March a tribunal to pass upon that pre
liminary question. The case was sub
mitted by them to a jury of citizens at Al
bany on Saturday, and we learn from the
Albany Evening Journal that the jury re
turned a verdict of insanity, and the Chan
cellor will of course appoint the requisite
trustees to conduct the estate forthe ben>-
elitofthe unfortunate heir. The personal
property amounts to $430,000, principal,
and it is supposed there must be about
$40,000 or $60,000 interest money due.—
Iu addition to this, there is real estate val
ued at $30,000, making the whole proper
ty about $500,000. Next to Charles Burr
there are 3G heirs. Tbe widow of olt 1
Burr is now living, at the advanced wye
of 70 years. Bhe was forced to leave' him
some years since on account of brutal
treatment, and on application to the Chan
cellor he granted a divorce, and ordered a
payment out of the estate of SIO,OOO per
annum daring her natural life.
Anccdotc of a. Sut. —ln Mr. Walerton’s
Essays there is a remarkable statement us
a nut deposited for winter by some nut
eating animal under an old millstone
which lay in a field, springing up through
the central aperture, and Mr. Waterloo
goes on to say—“ln order, however, that
the plant might have a fair chance
of success, I directed that it slwiuld be de
fended from accident and harm by means
of a wooden paling. Year after year it
increased in size and beauty;anti when its
expansion had entirely filled the hole in the
cent re of the millstone, it gradually began
to raise up the millstone itself from the seat
of its long repose. This huge mass of
stone is now eightjnehes above theground,
and is entirely supported by the stem of
the nut tree, which has risen to the height
of twenty-five feet, and beais excellent
! fruit.
‘ I am transported to see you,’ as the
convict said to the kangaroo.
‘Be. content with what you have,’ as
literal said to die trap when he left In?,
tail in it. |