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over her disappointment. Stephen looked moie cheerful, for his mind was busy trying to form plans for the future—how he should go about to seek for another situation, etc. B and time came ; both rose to retire to rest. Stephen had pressed his mother’s hand, and was retiring, saving as he went, 44 Never mind, mothci, it 11 all be right vet,” when they were startled by a loud rap, at he door. * “ Who’s there ?” shouted Stephen. “ A letter for you,” was the reply. Stephen thought there was some mistake, but he opened the door. A letter was put into his hancl;-*ahd the bearer disappeared. Surprised, Stephen held the letter close to the rush-light Mary was carrying. He became still more surprised ; it was addressed to Mrs. Gray, that was his mother, and he thought he knew the handwriting ; it was very like his master's. Mary’s look ol wonder became suddenly brightened by a Hash of hope ; she could not read writing ; Stephen must lead it for her. He opened the letter, something like a bank note was the first rhing he saw; he exam ined it; it was aetuallv a ten pound bank of Eng land note; his heart beat rapidly, and so did his mother’s; what could this mean? But there was a little note which would perhaps explain. Stephen’s fingers trembled sadly as he opened it. There were not many words, but they were to the purpose. Stephen read them to himself before he read them aloud. And as he was reading, his face turned very red, and how it did burn ! But what was the meaning of tears, and he looked so pleased! Mary could not understand it. “ Do read up, Stephen,” she exclaimed. With a voice broken by the efforts he had to make all the time to keep from crying, Stephen read—r Madam, “Put away your mangle ; that son of yours is worth mangling for ; but it is time to rest now. The note is for your present wants ; in future your son may supply you. I let him go to night; but I did not mean him to stay away, it he chooses to comeback. 1 don’t see that I can do well without him. But I don’t want him back it he would rather go anywhere else ; I know plenty that would be glad to have him. He has been seen in the shop, and noticed, and such lads are not always to be got. if he chooses to come back tome he won’t repent. I’ve no sons of my own, thank God. He knows what I am ; lam better than I was, and I may be better still. I’ve a queer way of doing tilings, but it’s my way, and can’t be helped, Tell him I’ll be glad to have him back to-morrow if he likes. “Yours, J. W.” 44 1 knew it!” exclaimed Mary, triumphantly; “ I always said so ! 1 knew you would get on !” Stephen did go back to his eccentric Master, and he never had any reason to repent. He got on even beyond his mother’s most soaring hopes. — The shop eventually became his own, and he lived a flourishing and respected tradesman. We shall scarcely add that his mother had no further use for her mangle, and that she was a very proud and a very happy woman. TIME'S CHANGES. In 1770, Edwin Bordin announced that he had taken the commodious tavern known as the King’s Arms, near Whitehall, N. Y., which he stated was as convenient as anvhouse on the continent: “Said Bordin returns his sincere thanks for the past kindness of his friends, and he will show his due sense thereof by the most obliging behavior , and every other means which can be in the power of the public’s obedient servant. Gentlemen who are strangers, on inquiring of said Bordin, will be provided with convenient lodging; and turtle pro vided for large companies, dressed to perfection ; and the public papers taken for the gentlmen’s amusement.” Hear this, ye big bugs who keep big hotels, and are as big behind the bar as Hales, the Qua ker Giant, and who look at each gentleman inqui ring for a traveller as if lie wanted a place as a waiter; take a lesson from Bordin’s advertise ment. By the way, will Alderman Ridabock in form us whether the aforesaid Bordin was not the little man we once knew who kept the Tontine Coffee-house for several years? Speaking of landlords—they were quite a dif erent race in old times to what they are now. Boniface made the punch in a big bowl, and when he brought it into the parlor where the company were assembled, he made proclamation, “Gen tlemen, here’s your very agreeable health !” He then took a long swig, after the ancient custom of host tasting first of the wassail cup, for fear of poison. To this day the pnblican of London is just as civil and polite as he was a century ago. Our host at Plymouth, England, always brought the first dish on table at dinner, followed by his wife in a silk dress, who brought in the second. He was so obsequiously civil that we used to ex periment upon his politcsse. “ What will you order for dinner, sir?” “A fried sole.” “ Thank ye sir! Very much obliged to vou.” “Also a boiled fowl.” “Infinitely indebted to you sir!” “With sauce blanche and cauliflower.” “ Thank you kindly, sir!” “ Apple tart and clotted cream.” M Very grateful, sir!” “ And a bottle of old port.” “ A thousand thanks, sir !” He was as nimble as quicksilver, and always at call. “ Lanlord.” “Sir!” “ What’s the hour ?” , “ Five o’clock, sir ; I am very much obliged to you.” . , . . Everything is changed —business habits, man ners, and systems. Our tailor sports a mustache takes a seat next to us in the parquette ot the opera, and cries, “ Brava! Brava!” and is a good ljudge of Italian music, when he should only be a | judge of broadcloth and a neat fit. Among the advertisements in 1/70, is that of a counsellor, who announced that he “ will give the most candid, honest, and satisfactory advice in all cases of law and equity.” Any man doing the same in these degenerate days would starve. A civil dun “ humbly entreats those who are in debted to him to pay as soon as is convenient, lest his creditors should begin to think it incon venient to trust him any longer. The following is the list of letters advertised at our post-office in 1770. Not enough for printers to quarrel about:— 44 Philip Livingston, John Ho rn ai ne, Magness de Coutv, Isabella Graham, John Hay, Quidor Demaresq Robert Morris.” Old Gen. Ward, of Newark, announced that he would leave Newark in a stage wagon, two hours after sunrise for Paul us Hook, (Jersey City,) and leave for Newark two hours before sunset. Such driving will not answer now. We go on the high pressure principle. — Major Noah . iiiisiii isifif. THE LAND WHICH NO MORTAL MAY KNOW* Though earth has many a beautiful spot, Asa poet or painter may show. Vet more lovely and beautiful, holy and bright. To the hopes of the heart and the spirit’s glad sight, Is the land that no mortal may know. There the crystaline stream, bursting forth from the throne, Flows on, and for ever will llow ; Its waves, as they roll, are With melody rife, And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life, In the land which no mortal can know. And there on its margin, with leaves ever green, . .. --- With its fruits healing sickness or woe, - The fair Tree of Life in its glory and pride, Is fed by that deep, inexhaustible tide Os the land which no mortal can know. There, too, are the lost! whom we lov’d on this earth, With whose mem’ries our bosoms yet glow ; Their relics we gave to the place ot the dead, But their glorified spirits before us have fled To the land which no mortal can know. There the pale orb of night, and the fountain of day, s No beauty nor splendor bestow: Bnt the presence of Him, the unchanging I am ! And the holy, the pure, the immaculate Lamb ! Light the land which no mortal can know. Oh ! who but must pine in this dark vale of tears, From its clouds aud its shadows to go To walk in the light of glory above And to share in the peace and the joy and the love Os that land which no mortal may know. PSYCHE. BT T. K. HERVJtT. They wove bright fables in the days of old ! When Reason borrowed Fancy’s painted wings, When Truth’s clear river flowed o’er sands of gold, And told, in song, its high and mystic things! And such the sweet and solemn tale of her, The pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given That led her through the world—Love’s worshiper— To seek, on earth, for him whose home was Heaven! As some lone angel, through Night’s scattered host, Might seek a star which she had loved—and lost! In the full city—by the haunted fount— Through the dim grotto’s tracery of spars— ’Mid the pine temples on the moonlit mount, Where Silence sits, to listen to the stars— In the deep glade, where dwells the brooding dove— The painted valley—and the scentod air— She heard far echoes of the voice of Love, And found his footstep's traces every where! But never more they met !—since doubts and fears Those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth, Had come ’twixt her, a child of sin and tears, And that bright spirit of immortal birth ; Until her pining soul and weeping eyes Had learned to seek him only in the skies— Till wings unto the weary heart were given, And she became Love’s ungel-bride—in Heaven! TO THE SPRING. Welcome, gentle Stripling, Nature’s darling thou— With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome now ! Aha! —and though returnest, Heartily we greet thee— The loving and the fair one, Merrily we meet thee ! Thinkest thou of my Maiden In thy heart of glee ! I love her yet the Maiden— And the Maiden yet loves me ! For the Maiden, many a blossom I begged—and not in vain ; I came again, a-begginu, And thou—thou giv’st again : Welcome, gentle Slripling, Nature’s darling thou— With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome, now! A Tremendous Fountain. —The largest artificial fountain in the world is at Chat worth, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, England. It shoots up, almost like lightning, a column of water, 267 feet high, more than one hundred feet higher than Niagra Falls, and about fifty feet higher thanjthe Bunker Hill monument. A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. SAVANNAH, THURSDAY.. MARCH 29, 1849. %* Advertisements to a limited extent, will be inserted at the rate of 50 cents for a square of nine lines or less, for the first insertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent insertion. Business cards inserted for a year at a lower rate. PREMIUMS. . The following premiums will be awarded on the first of May to the successful competitors. To the Masonic Lodge having the greatest number of sub scribers to our paper at that time, ten copies will be given gratuitously for one year. To the Odd Fellows Lodge, the same. To the Division of the Sons of Temperance, the same. NEW PAPERS. We have to acknowledge the receipt of anew weekly paper entitled the “ Cassville Standard,” by John W. Burke, Esq., Cassville, Ga. Its appearance is very neat, and we have no doubt a discriminating public will give it that support it so justly merits. Also, the Ist and 2d numbers of the “ Son of Temperance,” publisheJ at Chattanooga, Tennessee, by F. A. Parkam—suc cess to it. IN OUR NEXT NUMBER We expect to present our readers with the first part of an Original Tale from the pen of one who has contributed largely to some of the popular monthlies published at the North, and we have no doubt it will be highly interesting. THE SPING FASHION FOR HATS. We are just in the receipt of a fine specimen, for which we are indebted to the liberality and politeness of Mr. Lyon, Gibbon's Range. They are, of fine texture and color, with narrow brim, and neatly trimed. We recommend them to the notice of the community. “The third number of U A Friend to the Family ” looks right well—we might say “ as fine as a fiddle,” for the paper and type are beautiful. “ There is in its columns reading for the young and the old, and we are pleased to hear that its prospects are encouraging. The industry of the publisher merits all in store for him.” Georgian. We doff our beaver to you Mr. Georgian—accept our hum ble thanks, for thy kind wishes, “may you live a thousand years, and your shadow never be less,” as they say in the Celestia i Empire. S3T We are indebted to Mr. Wm. HuMPiiKF.rs, Jr. for fine specimens of Cologne, of his own manufacture, and we think it quite exceeds anything of kind that we have used.— We would in the way of expressing our appreciation of it earnestly rocommend it to the attention of the Ladies as a de lightful article for the toilet. STEAMSHIP TENNESSEE. In company with Mr* Fay, one of the owcrs and agents of this noble steamer, we went on board on Monday morning, and took a general survey of all her appointments, which are more exiensive and splendid than her mate, the Cherokee. One great improvement is in the height of ceiling in her and her state-rooms are fitted up in exquisite style. Her model is similar to the Cherokee’s, and she will no doubt be able to “brave the storm” with the best of them. Her engine is a splendid piece of mechanism, and was built by Messrs. Stillman, Allen, & Cos., of the Notelty Works, in the city of New York, and reflects great credit on the estab lishment. MACAULAY'S HISTORY. The result of the great controversy in regard to the reprint of Macaulay’s History of England by the Messrs. Harpers, is, that the public can now obtain a good legible copy of the first and second volumes at the astonishing low price of Twenty five Cents each, making the cost of the entire work only Fifty Cents. Chivalry. —ln the year 13G9, John the Second, Duke de Bourbon, instituted an order of chivalry. One of the statutes of it is curious, and shows the high opinion he entertained of the influence of the female sex upon the virtue and happiness of man kind. According to this statute, the knights were obliged to pay due respect to all ladies, both mar ried and unmarried, and never to suffer anything derogatory to their reputation to be said in their presence; “for,” adds the statute, “those who speak ill of women have very little honor, and (to their disgrace be it mentioned) say of that sex —which cannot revenge itself —what they would not dare to say of a man: for, from women— after God—arises a great part of the honor that there is in the world.” The Yankee Blade tells the following anec dote of a college chum : H , a member of one of the classes, was distinguished not less for dry wit and sly waggery than for his address in evading the writing of themes, and in palming off the “brain ruined currency’ of others as his legitimate ‘’tender.” One Monday morning he read a theme of unusual merit; but Professor A. “ smelt a rat,” and, as H. finished and sat down in the pride of conscious merit, asked, “ Is that original H ? ” “Yes sir.” “ Are you sure of it ? ” queried the professor, doubtingly. “ Why, yes sir,” replied H , with the im portable gravity, and that paste board counte nance he always wore, “it had original over it in the paper 1 took it from.” t “HE WILL FORGIVE YOU, FATHER.” He stood leaning upon a broken gate in front of his miserable dwelling. His tattered hat was in his hands and the cool breeze lifted the matted locks which covered his noble brow. His coun tenance was bloated and disfigured, but in his eye there was an unwonted 100k —a mingled ex pression of sadness and regret. Perhaps he was listening to the melancholy voice of his patient wife as she soothed the sick babe on her bosom; or perchance he was gazing on the sweet face of his eldest daughter, as at the open window she plied her needle to obtain for her mother and the poor children a sustenance. Poor Mary! for her self she cared not; young as she was, her spirit was crushed by poverty, unkindness and neglect. As the inebriate thus stood, his eyes wandered over the miserable habitation before him. The windows were broken, and the doors hingeless, scarce a vestige of comfort remained ; yet memory memory bore him back to the days of his youth, when it was the abode of peace and happiness. In infancy he saw again the old arm chair where sat his father with the bible upon his knee, and seemed to hear again tones of his mother as she laid her hand upon the head of her darting boy, and prayed that God would bless him and preserve him from evil. Long years had passed away, yet tears came into the eyes of the drunk ard at the recollection of his mother’s love. “Poor mother,” he muttered, “it is well that thou art sleeping in the grave; it would break thy heart to know that thy son is a wretched and degraded being—a miserable outcast from so ciety.” He turned slowly away, Deep within an ad joining forest was a dell where the beams of the sun scarce ever penetrated. Tall trees grew on either side, whose branches, meeting above, formed a canopy of leaves, where the birds built their nests and poured forth happy songs. Thither the drunkard bent his steps. It had been his fa vorite haunt in the days of his childhod, and as he threw himself upon the soft green sward, the re collections of past scenes came crowding over his mind. He covered his face with his hands, and the prayer of the prodigal burst from his lips—“Oh God! receive a returning wanderer!” Suddenly a soft arm was thrown around his neck, and a. sweet voice murmured —“He will forgive you, father.” —Starting to his feet, the inebriate saw standing before him his youngest daughter, a child of six years. “ Why are you here, Anne?” he said, ashamed that the innocent child should have witnessed his grief. “ I came to gather the lillies which grow upon the banks,” she replied ; “ see, I have got my basket full, and now I am going to sell them.” And what do vou do with the monev ?” asked the father, as he turned his eyes to the basket, where among the broad green leaves the sweet lillies of the valley were peeping forth. The child hesitated, she thought she had said too much; perhaps her father would demand the money, and spend it in the way in which all his earnings went. “You are afraid to tell me, Anne,” said her father, kindly. “Well, I do not blame you; I have no right to mv children’s confidence.” The gentleness of tone touched the heart of the affectionate child. Bhe threw her arms around his neck, and exclaimed, “Yes, father, I will tell you. Mother buys medicines for poor little Wil lie. We have no other way to get it. Mother and Mary work all the time they can get to buy bread.” A pang shot through the inebriate’s heart. “I have robbed them of the comforts of life,” he ex claimed: “from this moment the liquor fire passes my lips no more,” Anne stood gazing at him in astonishment. She could scarcely comprehend her father’s words; but she saw that some change had taken place. She threw back her golden ringlets, rais ed her large blue eyes with an earnest look to his face—“ Will you never drink any more rum?” she whispered timidly. “A ever! dear Anne,” her father replied sol emnly. Joy danced in her eyes. “Then we will all be so happy. Oh, father, what a happy home ours will be!” Years passed away. The words of little Anne, the drunkard’s daughter, had proved true. The home of the reformed man, her father, was a happy one. Plenty crowned his board, and health and joy beamed from the face of his wife and children—where once squalled misery alone could be traced. The pledge had raised him from his degredation, and restored him once more to peace and happiness. The Gold-Seeker’s Manuel. —A King’s Col lege Professor having come forward with a sea sonable work under the above tale, Punch begs leave to enter, against the learned Professor’s vol ume his own Directions far the Diggins . W hat class ought to start for the Diggins.—Per sons who have nothing to lose except their lives; and it would be as well they should start without these, if it were possible, as they are not unlikely tc lose them in California. Things you should not take with you to the Diggins.—A love of comfort, a taste for civiliza tion, an appetite, a conscience, a respect for other people’s throats, and a value for your own.