The republic. (Macon, Ga.) 1844-1845, December 25, 1844, Image 1

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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. |