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Dcuotcci to Citcmtuvc, Science, nub Art, llje Sons of temper once, (Dili Jcllouisljip, ittaoonrn, anir (general intelligence. VOLUME I. $ % % lifi n ae y, • TH E DREAMER. flir following beautiful lines are from a volume of * Poems Seamstress,” and are said to be truly the production of /poor English girl. tfot in the laughing bowers, Where, by green twining elms, a pleasant shade, \ summer’ 3 noon is made; \ml where swift-footed hours Steal the rich breath of the enamored flowers ; Dream I. Nor where the golden glories be, At Sunset laving o’er the flowing sea, And to pure eyes the faculty is given, To trace smooth ascent from tho earth to Ileaven. ■tfoton the couch of ease. With all the appliances of joys at hand ; Soft light, sweet fragrance, beauty at command; Viands that might a god like palate please, \ri.J music’s soul creative ecstncies ; Dream 1. Nor gloating o’er a wide estate, Till the full, self-complacent heart, elate, Well satisfied with bliss or mortal birth, Sighs for an immortality on earth. m But where the incessant din Os iron hands, nnd roar of brazen throats ; Join their umningling notes; While the long summer day is pouring in, Till day is gone and darkness doth begin ; Dream I—as in the corner where I lie. On wintry nights, just covered from the sky, Such is my fate, and barren though it seem ; Vet, thou blind, soulless scorner, yet I dream ! And, yet I dream — Dream wliat? Were men more just. I might have been How strong, how fair, how kindly nnd serene, Blowing of heart, and glorious of mein. The conscious crown to nature’s blissful scene, In just and equal brotherhood to gleam, With all mankind, exhaust!ess pleasure keen; Such is iay dream. And, yet I dream— I, the despised of foitune, lift mine eye, Bright with tho lustre of integrity, In unappealing wretch© lness on high, And the last rage of destiny defy ; Wosutoed alone to live—alone to die, Isut swell the tide of human misery. And yet l dream— Dreams of a sleep where dreams no more shall come, My last, my first, irty only welcome home ! Beit, unbelield, since life’s beginning stage, Side remnant of my glorious heritage. Fnalienable, I shall find thee yet, And, in thy soft embrace, the past forget! Thus do l dream. OE X m IXAI BAII. For A Friend of the Fatuity. j SELF DEVOTION. Br MISS SUIIS A. STUART. CHAP. I. ** Home is the resort Os love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polish’d friends, And dear relations, mingle into bliss.” What could be lovelier then: the “roup collected in the elegant drawing room of Mr. Forester, on a cold frosty night in January. The glowing coals, with which the burnished grate was well heaped, threw their gleams alike on the stately matron, the elegant man, the gem of a sweet girl, just hovering on the confines of childhood, and on angel children in all their romping delight fulness. The shaded lamp, too, had just been brought in, and placed on the sofa-table, where sits Mr. Forester, a gentleman in the prime of life, of no regularity as to features, but with a countenance of so much silent eloquence and intellectuality, as would redeem a much uglier face than the one he hears. Reclining on the lounge, near which is drawn the table, on which rests his arm —is his wife, who ln her mature beauty reminds one of a full blown, h llt perfect rose, ere yet the sun has kissed it too “•'irmly. If she be the rose, then indeed is Leila , tyresterthe sweetest hud that ever eye rested on, ■n her vpung loveliness. Do not dread, reader, j a l°ng and detailed description of her style of neauty, I will only tell you one thing par parenthc that her eves would strike you at the first. ancc,by their singular and exquisite expression, full, of a deep grey, with dilating pupils ; y'y l ie ingest and darkest fringe, to their snowy j’ cvcr beheld. There was a strain of melody an ‘ Cr tones, with which she sought to if) 1 T * oun S sisters, clustering around her, 11 C she shone pre-eminent in beauty as well assize. 1 lan^ 10 J lnri of the group was sealed on her p, .UK of the other two, one was kneeling at icet, the other reclining on the large central ’ oman which she occupied. Her brother, nearly tin^ f * NVn a,^ e ’ a anc isome, manly boy, was sit .• ®. ln an arm chair opposite, now and then put ‘ng >n a word or two to elucidate the tale Leila to her young sister Fanny. *aid vr T?° Vel y our Leila has become, Margaret,” J Forester. “ Did you ever see any one so aS S^e * 3 even i Q h er play. Well indeed i Q f’ sle Reserve the name I jestingly gave her in (Je^ c 4 our S en^e ladye.’ Is she not lovely “ Very lovely, William, I always thought Leila so, though you thought her eyes were too large. What say you to them now ? Have you heard . her play lately on the piano?” “ INo dear ; but I feel as if I could enjoy some music before tea, Leila, rny daughter, when you have finished that wonderful story, bring Fanny to me, and play something.” “ With pleasure, papa ; I have almost finished.” When the story was ended, Fanny was re signed to her father’s arms, and Leila, seating herself at the piano, asked what she should play. “ Auld Robin Gray ” first, and then anything 3*0 u wish.” \ Soon the room was filled with the liquid, plain tive tones of that young, but well-trained voice, in her father’s favorite ballad. Ere it was well concluded, the tea waiter made its appCafdnce, and Leila seated herself with her sisters at the centre table. “ How would my daughter like being the wife of an ‘ Auld Robin Grey?’” said Mr. Forester, as he sipped his tea, and glanced smilingly at Leila. “ Not at all, dear papa, I had rather stay alwa3 r $ with you and mamma and never marry at all.” “ Ah, very well, very well Miss Leila. I shall remember that, when some of these days a gay gentleman will be begging me for}*ou.” “ My dear William do not talk to Leila, on such, a subject at present, and do look ! ” continued she, directing his attention to Fanny, who had slid from her seat and was now clinging to Leila, with tears in her large blue eyes , as she poutingly answered her brother who was teasing her about her eldest sister’s going away—“she shan’t go, my Leila.” “ Look,” said Mrs. Fores ler, “ how those children cling in love to her.— Really I think they all love her better than either of us. Fanil} 7 , dearest, come to mamma, no one will ever take sister Leila from you. Come darl ing.” “Go to mamma Fanny, papa and Gus were teasing.” “ Yes do go little chatter-box,” said Gus, “sister is not to marry any one, out will keep home for you and I, shan’t she?”— “ And for me ! ” “ And me too ! ” said Annie and Mary as in their energy they abandoned their sup per and seats to claim their sister. “ Be quiet and don’t annoy mamma with noise,” said her low voice, “it is our bed time too,” alan , ‘ Q cing at the French clock, “come let us kiss them for the night,” and she advanced leading Fanny. “ Good night, my daughter,” said her fond fath er as he kissed her soft lips, “ Good night m3* dar lings, and sweet dreams to }*ou.” “Be careful Leila that the children say their prayers,” said the mother, as she returned the fond good night, “ you know that I trust them en tirel}* to you.” “ An I no one can better fulfil their trust, dear est,” replied her husband, when they had gone. “ Truly, my wife we have a prize in our daughter. Day by day have I watched her, and no angry, harsh, or ungentle word does she ever use to those children. She seems to be utterly forgetful of self, in her commune with them. What a glori ous woman she will he, so calm, so unmilled, with that angel brow and pure eyes, lit up with the hol} r principle of self-devotion.” “ Yes, dear William, she is everything that our partial hearts love. The very servants almost worship her, and I realty believe she is an exemp tion from the old axiom, ‘that never was man or woman, hero or heroine to their valets’ for she is to them as exalted as ideal, as she appears to stran gers. I think her, without a mother’s partiality, a paragon. Gus,” to her son, “ hadyou not bet ter go to bed, for I believe you are asleep.” “ Almost mamma, my gunning to day has tired me, and so I will bid you good night, and to bed.” “ Good night, my boy ! ” said his father, “ you had hotter sleep whilst you can, for when } T our midshipman’s warrant comes, }*ou will need all these unbroken nights now to make up your “ watches ” then. And now wife, what slmll it be this evening ? chess, shall we have a game, or shall I read you that exquisite poem, ‘ The Cul prit Fay;'* I wait your decision, fair lad} 7 .” “ The book, by all means William, for I know it will please ye?* best,” and she seated herself at the table, with some light work to employ her fin gers, whilst her lover-like husband adjusting the shade of the lamp, commenced that beautiful gem of our American poet Drake. CHAr. 11. “ Ah! it is sad when one thus linked departs! When Death, that mighty sev’rer of true hearts Sweeps through the halls, so lately loud in mirth, And leaves pale Sorrow weeping by the hearth.” Tread softly, for} 7 ou now enter the chamber of one sick unto death. Those noiseless steps that move around her dying bed, for it is Mrs. 1 orester who lies there, are those of her daughter Leila, who, with all the devotion of her loving heait, has never left her, but with the instinct and watchful- SAVAMAII, GA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1849. ness of true, unwearied afiection, hovered ever around her couch of pain like a ministering an gel. Mrs. Forester opens her fast dimming eyes, as Leila bends over her to see if she sleeps. “ My mother,” said her sweet young voice. “ Leila, dearest lam in no pain now. Is no one in here, for I wish to speak to you my daugh ter.” “ No one, dear mamma, I have persuaded pa pa to rest in the library, and sent away the nurse,” and she smoothed some straggling hair off from OO O her mother’s brow as she pressed her lips to it.” “ Give me something to drink, Leila, and listen to’ me.” Ha ving obeyed her mother, she again returned to the bed. “ Leila yOU are young, and I am about to load }*our young heart with a weight of responsibility, hut darling, I know you, and feel that } T our firm ness and devotion as regards those whom you love exceed by far, your years. In your bands, and to your love and care, do I leave your sisters.— Your father too, m3 7 child ! He will never marry, 1 know him. Be unto him, a companion, a com forter. Enter as I have ever done into all his schemes. If he has an} 7 favorite study or plan, let it also he yours. I know this, my last request, is hard my child, but I know your affection for your sisters. lam dying my* child, and I cannot speak much more. Promise me, and then call your father and the children, I want them with 1 me.” “ My darting mother I will promise you all arid everything you desire, but do not say 7 you are dy ing my* own dear mother ! ” But she thought fbt that dear being even amid her grief, and with a courage and forethought unlooked for in one of such tender years, the tears were driven back, that unnecessary 7 pain might be spared lief dying parent. Mr. Forester and the children were summoned to that loved one’s death bed, and there received her last admonitions. Oh ! what eloquence in a death bed ! How much more powerful, than the mostsublime sermons delivered from the mouths ot the greatand the good, is the ghastly counte nance, the quivering, shortening, gasping breath, the dimming and glazing eye, the spasmodic grasps of the hand, that has so ofien lingered in ours, in affections fond clasp. All, all speaking to us—telling us of an immortality—the vanity of all earthly things, how impossible even to our love “ which is as strong as death,” to retain our dear ones with us, and warning us by that very mortality “ not to place our affections upon things of earth.” She was buried, and change fell upon them, for her place could not be filled in the hearts of her husband and Leila. The children so fondly lov ing their sister, and having their afiection so am ply repaid could not miss her so much. Gus, too, was soon ordered to his ship, and with new scenes ,and new faces, his recollections and sorrowful regrets began to wear away, and he with buoyant spirits to look forward to a re-union with those dear ly loved ones still left unto him. Mr. Forester, be reft of one whom he had ever looked up to as his equal and companion, now sought other consola tion, that of ambition. Eminent he had ever been as a lawyer, and attaching himself to politics he soon began to be looked upon by his party as a proper person to represent them in Congress.— He, eager for every new excitement and scene, accepted the nomination, and by his unequalled canvassing abilities, found himself at the close of the electioneering campaign chosen over his op ponent hv an overwhelming majority 7 . Yet the first thought that leaped into his mind, shadowing with the dark cloud of regret the successful pres ent was, “ If Margaret, had but been spared, to have witnessed my 7 triumph, to have shared my honors.” Mrs. Alton, an old friend of Mrs. Forester, who had been stay r ing with the family, since his wife’s death, had been prevailed upon by Mr. Forester to continue in charge of the children ; as she had no relations and was sincerely attached to the whole family, she remained. The winter w 7 as approaching, Mr. Forester in tended carrying Leila w ith him, yet the young girl had no thought for her own pleasure and tri umphs in the metropolis, a higher and nobler mo tive actuated her when she expressed her glad ac quiescence in her father’s wish for her to accom pany him. “ I shall be near him, and comfort him if any unforsccn occurrence should hnppen,” washer loving reflection. Well indeed did Mrs. Forester know her child when she expressed to her her dyfing wishes. Leila knew that her sis ters w*ere well cared for under the charge of Mrs. Alton, and that it w 7 as her duty to be the compan ion of her father if he so wished it. Behold them then at Washington city, located in an excellent boarding bouse, with an agreeable and refined “ mess.” Mr. Forester’s maiden speech in the Hall of Representatives was a decided “ hit, and henceforward it became the fashion to cry up the eloquent member and his lovely daughter. And that beautiful girl passed scatheless through the round of gay parties, theatrical entertainments, which she attended, for every where did she carrv with her, as a talisman, her devoted and watchful love for her parent, so absorbing that no other passion, at that time, could have entrance into her pure young heart; yet do not for a moment think that Leila’s was a disposition that could not love. Ao one could be more susceptible or more ardent in her affections, but she was now fulfilling a dy ing injunction, and in her zeal to discharge her promise, she devoted time, thought, everything to her father. And well did he repay her love.— His rather stern expression would instantly relax did she but enter the room, and the smile of al most unmanly tenderness would light up his coun tenance. Leila too, with every new day acquired new grace. Tall for her years, not seventeen, with her magnificent cActvZwcofclark brown, bound in a natural coronet round her small, classically shaped head, and those strange lustrous eyes lit up with her pure thoughts, she moved arnongthem all like a creature of another sphere. Many won dered that one so young should be so self-pos sessed, so calmly dignified as the exquisitely beau tiful Miss Forester. Ever conducting herself with such courteous, yet regal grace—for if ever there was a queen of nature’s moulding, that one was Leila Forester. Her self-possession arose from the very unconsciousness of her own existence, her own beauty, and the absorption in her father. She imagined in the new scenes to which he was exposed, though fascinating from their novelty, must have danger, lurking as the serpent, beneath the flowers ; and therefore she gave herself np with an entireness, a forgetfulness of self in her wish to discharge her trust faithfully. And when at the end of the session, Mr* Forrester, with fresh laurels, returned to his home, bringinghisfair young daughter. Not a few admirers did she leave, for more than one had laid their fortunes at her feet. That dear Leila, x r ou should have seen her, when she met her 3 r oung sisters. Hers was in deed a heart capable ol loving, of clinging in all fondness. Her large, wild eyes were glistening in tears as she witnessed their demonstrations of affection, as humble as if nil this wealth of love was not her due ; entering with the enjouemmt of childhood into all their simple narratives, from their new cuttings of roses, to their doll’s ailments, everywhere finding remedies for disasters, praises for good conduct. Is it any wonder that Mr. Fo* ester should feel oroud* and glory in this daughter To be Continued . A Cut ious Idea. —Gutta Perch*! tubes are now laid in some English churches, to the pews of deaf pesons, by which they are enabled to hear ihe preacher. In consequence, too, of the pecu liar power possessed by this tubing for the trans mission of sound, a gentleman in New York, it is said, has applied it for the conveyances of messa ges from the parlor to the kitchen. Even a whis per at the mouth-piece is distinctly heard when the ear is applied at the other end. The mistress (irst calls attention by gently blowing into the tube, which sounds ! whistle in the kitchen. A great article is Gutta Percha and nearly as po tent in virtue as the “ if” of Touchstone. Col. Fremont digging Gold. —Mr. James King, just returned from California to Washington, re ports that Col. Fremont was working a large party at some new placers, where they were doing well. The business of the Colonel is to desig nate the place to be worked, and to provide for the hands, and to exercise a general superinten dance. He receives a certain portion of the find ings. The old placers, it is said, do not yield anything like as much as formerly ; the new com ers prefer going to them to hunting out new lo cations where they might do better. Mr. K. does not think the gold inexhaustible. It is now ascertained that Lord Ashley’s sim ple and confiding nature has been imposed upon. The Irish peat-oil tallow-car. die scheme is a hoax, or a fiction, as was suspected it w ould prove to be. Mr. Owen has contradicted the statement that he has invested any capital in the bog land of Ire land for the purpose of converting vegetable earth into oil, tallow or gas. He admits that he has been influenced by Mr. Recce to make some ex periments which have failed. It is within the recollection of many persons living, in England, that the father of the /ate Mr. Denizon, of one of the London banking firms, who recently died worth more than twelve mil lions of dollars, used to carry home his rump steak in a cabbage leaf for his dinner. From what number can you take the letters and make it even ? 5-even. NUMBER 34