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Til Mill ODHP. VOLUME 11. (Ijf /iiniii nf Cljf /ninth}, A Weekly Southern Newspaper, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY EDWARD J. PURSE. terms: -tfo Dollars a year, in advance, or Two Fifty if not paid within three months. , gsCRIPTIOA’S RECEIVED FOR SIX MONTHS AT ONE DOLLAR, IN ADVANCE. Three copies for one year, or one copy three years, - -- -- -- $5 00 Copies, - -- -- -- 10 0) [\vclve copies, 15 00 q* Advertisements to a limited extent, ! fill be inserted at the rate of 50 cents fop n , ua rc of twelve lines or less, for the first ill ation, and GO cents for each subsequent nsntion. Business cards inserted for nyear t Five Dollars. liberal discount will be made to Pos Asters who will do us the favor to act as merits. postmasters arc authorized to remit tno- P vto Publishers and all money mailed in r jence of the Postmaster, and duly for ced b him, is at our risk. communications to be addressed ost-paid) to E. J. PURSE, Savannah, Gn. JOHN F. SHEEN, A SHI ONABLE TAILOR , Ihcr.U M Havwontl’s Ihiir Dressing Saloon, OPPOSITE THE PULASKI HOUSE. Ding, Mending and Cleaning done with neatness ,| despatch. \\ ork made up as cheap as at any t -r establishment in the city. sept 21 Thasbrouck & CO., Wholesale and Retail Dealers in MIX A, GLASS AND EARTHENWARE, >pt2l BROUGHTON STREET. SAVANNAH. McARTHOR & MORSE, Manufacturers and Dealers in WIN, JAPANNED &, BLOCK TIN WARE, HOLLOW &u ENAMELLED WARE, STOVES AX'D COOKING RANGES, .no Pipe, Sheet Lead. Cupper and Zinc, STORE, Hi BARNARD STREET. All kinds of Copper, Tin and Sheet Iron \Vork> in the best manner, at the shortest notice. *pt 21 lyr. JOHN V. TARVER, CTOR S’ COMMISSION MERCHANT EXCHANGE WHARF, SAVANNAH, GA. RABUN & FULTON, COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 207 Ray Street, Savannah, Ga. \V. RABUN, n. L. FULTON, I. P. WHITEHEAD. LANIER HOUSE, 13 Y LANIER Sc SON, jmic 22 Macon, Georgia. S. Y. LEVY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office, No. ISS Bay-Street. E. T. SHEFTALL, ATTORNEY AT LAW. may 25 niT.Ltx, Georgia. MEDICAL NOTICE. DOCTOR MOREL. OlT.ee No. 157 Brough hn Street. ts mar 23 FRANCIS WAVER, PORTING &, COMMISSION MERCHANT, No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo. ALLEN & BALL, Mors & commission merchants, No. 112 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. J. M. BALL & CO., on tv chants, MACON, GPIORGIA. Robert a. allen, james m. hall, tept 20 ly J. DE MARTIN, DEALER IX hnits, Wines, Liquors, Segars. PICKLES, PRESERVES and GARDEN SEEDS. —: also : APPLES, ONIONS S’ POTATOES, Den in season, received fresh by every vessel. —: also: — ■ ! rrs put up to order in from 1 to 10 gallon kegs. Corner of Bay and W hitaker Streets, savannah, ga. JOHN OLIVER, HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER, GILDER, GLAZIER, See., 1-1 Broughton Street, a fete doors cast oj Whitaker Street, Savannah, Ga. , - ‘ All kinds of Paints—faint Oil, Turpentine, _ v iyh. Glass. Putty, & c., for sale. jnly SO EDWARD G. WILSON, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, /> tc yanccr, Colleclor, Accountant S’ Copyist, Office under J. AI. Haywood’s. Day, Wednesday, September 25th. SAMUEL S. MILLER, manufacturer of Carriages and wagons, in hubs, stokes, felloes, &c. No. 140 Broughton St., Savannah. J. T. JONES. M AXUFACTU RF.R AND DEALER IN double & Single Guns, Rifles, &c., West Side of Monument Square. SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. G. W HEDRICK, ftOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER Glazier, Grainer & Paper Hanger. Barnard Street, Soutii of the Market always ready to execute all orders in bis lint i ll “ dispatch, and at the lowest prices. Al / n^8 of mixed Paints, Glass and Putty kepi lor sale. ]yr Dec 22 Ilnuiti'ii fn H'ifrnifurc, irintrt Quit Slrt, fjjc Inns of Ctnifftnunt, tDiili /rllnutsljib jHnsnnnj nub (gwrrnl Duffllijirurr. JONES &. PAPOT, Shipwrights, Spar Makers, AND CAULKERS. Yard opposite R.&c J. Lachlison’s Foundry. .iAVAPtNAII, GEORGIA. R. H. DARBY, rwr’ jEL lOFtk. -, Corner Broughton and Whitaker Streets, SAVAffNllf, GEORGIA. R. H. D. is prepared to execute all orders for Making or Cutting on reasonable terms, mar 9 iy PHILIP KEAN, DRAPE It AN D TAILOR, AND DEALER IX READY MADE CLOTHING. Penfield’s Range, No. 98 Bryan Street, Store formerly occupied by J Southwell &, Cos., SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. J. S. STURTEVANT, master builder, Corner Montgomery and Liberty Sts. All orders in his line will be promptly attended to, and faithfully executed june 1 jy A SHORT, MASTER BUILDER, Will Like contracts for Building and Work in Masonry of every description. Corner of South Broad and Whitaker streets. may 20 CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER. The subscriber is prepared to execute with neatness and despatch all work in the above line. 142 Broughton St. Two Doors West of L W. MORRELL’S Furniture Store. 1. SOLOMONS, Agent. June 1 lyr CLOTHING, PIERSON & lIEIDT offer for sale CLOTHING, W holesale and Retail, at New York price*, No. 10 Whitaker Street. apl 26 G M. GRIFFEN. Jfe&s HAVING purchased the stock in trade of (\A jtliolnte M. Eastman, would solicit the con- GsmeGb inued patronage of all the friends of the establishment. All customers shall be pleased with goods and satisfied with prices. GEO. M. GRIFFEN. the personal attention of Mr. G., as usual. Sept 21 DR. J. DENjMTS, BOTANIC DRUGGIST, Next door above L. C. Warren &. Cos, Augusta, Ga, Keeps constantly on hand a choice assortment* selected from the best establishments in the United States, consisting of Emetics, Cathartics, Diapho retics, Diuretics, Expectorants, Emmcnngogues, Stimulants, Tonics, Astringents, Nervines, Alka lies, Alteratives, Rubefacients, and Compounds for family use. Composition PoVrder, No. Six, L >belia in its various preparations, See., also Medical Books, may 4 ALFRED HAYWOOD. CORNER BRYAN AND BARNARD STREETS, Market Square, Savannah, Dealer in Choice FRUITS, CANDIES. NUTS, ORANGES, LEMONS, APPLES, AND PO TATOES. Wholesale and Retail. First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fish, <fcc. Newark refined Champaigne Cider, and Albany Cream Al*, by the bll. Orders from the Country, accompanied by the cash or City reference, punctually attended to adg 9 A CARD. The Undersigned having re-opened with an entire Now Stuck nf DRUGS, CHEMICALS, AND FANCY ARTICLES, at No. 139 (South Side) Broughton street, (formerly Walkers Marble Yard) is now ready to furnish anything in his line at the shortest notice. SODA WAJER, made in his own peculiar way, sent to any part of the city, and always to be had at the stoi'e in the lushest state of perfection. Prescriptions put up with care and despatch. The Subscriber having served the public long and faithfully, respectfully solicits a share o( their patronage. may 11 TIIOS. RYERSQN. SASHES, DOORS, AND BLINDS. 10,000 Light of Sash, of all sizes from 8 X 18 to 12X20. 150 pairs Blinds for Windows of all sizes. 50 I’annel Doors doors different sizes and thickness. For sale by CHARLES VAN HORN. No. 153 Bay Street, near the City Hotel. N. B. All orders for Carpenter’s Work executed at the shortest notice. ts nov 29 SASHES, DOORS AND BLINDS. 15,000 Lights of Sash from 7 X 10 to 12 200 pair Blinds for Windows from BXIO to 12 X 20. 100 Funnel Doors, various sizes. Odd Sizes furnished at the same terms. For sale by JOHN G. FALLIGANT. nov 29 A. CARD. A lady educated in London and Paris, a good Musician, Singer, Draughts-womnn, and Painter, who speaks the French language in all its purity, desires a situation either in a School or private family. Terms moderate—references most re spectable. A line addressed to this office, care of E. J. Purse, for D’Este Smyth, will be attended to im mediately. june 29 GAS PIPES AND FIXTURES. STRATTON & DOBSON, Having received an assortment of Chandeliers, Pendants, Brackets and Portable Gag Burners, respectfully invite the citizens of Savannah to call at their store, No. 72 St. Julian street, and examine the same 4t i unp JOHN MALLERY, DRAPER AND TAILOR, Ao. 55 Euy-st. joining the City Hotel. Invites the attention to his Stock ot New and Seasonable Goods, now opening, consisting of choice READY M ADE CLOTHING and FUR NISHING GOODS, comprising every aiticlc of Gentlemen’s apparel. Also, a full supply es CLOTHS, CASbIMERES and VESTINGS, of various shades and qualities —which will he made to order in the most ap proved style, by competent and experienced Workmen, warranted to give entire satisfaction, and at prices to suit the lime? oct 18 SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28. 1850, Irlcrfrii } v urtnj, HERDSMAN’S SONG, Known as the Echo Eowg. sing nr mad’lle jenny lind. Come hither, come hither, my pretty herd; Huati, huah, huah, huah, hunh. Conte; ox and cow and weanling brood, And hasten to taste of the evening food, tor night With her shade creeps darkening on, Ring shrill horn on the molimain rntind; And follow my cattle the welcome sound Muah; huah, huah, to grateful abundance my flock Ppcfcd ve; Long beside where heart-fires burn; My love has awaited my return. Soon I clasp the treasure, In an ecstacy of pleasUre; I’aradis’d upon her arm. No care can grieve, no ill can harm. [From the Literary World.] LINES SUCGESTEtJ ON COMING OUT OF MOUNT HOPE BAY. Mount Hope! another name belongs to thee} J houshouldLiecalled, metliinks, Mount Memory, t or, sailing by T ANARUS, this Indian-summcr day, Where thou reclinest on thine own blue bay, Before my eyes King Philip’s lamed retreat, The crag-roof shelving o’er his royal seat, And, crowning all, the canopy of blue, Spanning the same wide-spread, enchanting view Os shore and slope, that, winding far away Before the Sachem’s eyes in beauty lay. Gazing upon thee thus, with tranquil f'yo, Culm hill! untouched, as years and change sweep by ! In fancy-dreams thy rocky shore I climb, And pierce the dusky veil of long-gone time. I lie white men’s homes, still few and far between, Melt in blue haze and vanish from the scene. Slow curls the wigwam-smoke above the trees, And floats a mimic cloud upon the breeze. How beautiful is all around —how still ! Save when the echoes, .slumbering on the hill, Stir to the paddle’s plash, where cuts the l>lue, Tushing from shore, the red man’s swift canoe, Or start to hear the sudden shout and screech Os red men’s children playing on the beach. Or fling hack the light littigh of dusky girls Laving in some green nook their jot-black curls, Or multiply some friendly tribes “ What cheer ! ” Or foeman’s war-whoop frightful to the car. Pair Mound ! how slight a change, and all, again, The self-same aspect wears, to-day, as then, When, in these scenes, sole lord of hill and plain, The son of Nature held his fair domain, Gone are the eyes that drank with raptured gaze The light of this fair scene in other days, The wigniam fire Is out on shore and hill — Tile councihtalk* —the whoop of War —are still. The paddles frequent plash is heard no more, All now is hushed, save when the booming oar Flings the bright spray, or sounds afar the scream Os wheeling sea-gull or imprisoned steam,- Yet When, in such mild days as these, 1 stand And look far ont o’er all the lovely land, Through the soft haze, like Memory’s veil, that lies, By Autumn sunlight filing on earth and skies, Fair Indian maidens, gentle and serene, Look forth with Spirit-eyes upon the scene; And from the far horizon of the west, Where lie the sunny islands of the blest, Hunter and fighter, sage and sachem come, To look once more upon their earthly home. The grave old men —the brave old warriors stand, In stately talk, apart, a deep-eyed band, White to the music of the running riil Low voices murmcr music sweeter still. But soft! the scene is fading from my view, And with it fades my fancy’s vision; too. In the dim distance, now; thy lovely slope,• Transfigured, seems a skyey land, Mount Hope! Rudely disturbed, my short dav-dream is o’er, And the fair shapes I saw just now, once more Have all withdrawn to upper air with thee, To dwell for ever, Mount of Memory. C. T. B. Irlnlrit Cnle. THE MEMOIRS OF A LADY. FROM THE GERMAN. I am now sixty years of age, and having all my life been forced to disguise my feelings and act a part, will at last fling tbe mask aside and speak the truth. But to whom shall I address myself? for unless it be to laugh at her, an old lady will hardly find a friend willing to listen to the history of her life. Well, I shall address this confession to ‘myself, and speak freely and frankly. It will be some relief to me. I shall be writing a kind of a moral testament; and when the pen has once done its duty, the past will no longer be my own. The past! Good Heaven ! how far does it now lie behind me, and \et how near does it still appear ! I shall sleep to-night in ♦yon chamber, which I have not entered for forty years. Every thing heie seems so unchanged, so much like what it was when I last occupied these apartments; I saw so true a representation of former times in their appearance, that I actually re coiled with affright on beholding the reflection of my own wrinkled face in a mirror : 1 had almost lan ded that 1 was still to find myself young.and unchanged Alas! from to-day every remnant of youthful feeling has vanished from my breast. 1 lost my mother in infancy, and was only ten years of age when my father died. An elder sister became my guardian bat as she had just made a brilliant marraige, and was entering the gay world at the most promising period of her career, in flower of youth and beauty’s pride, she was glad lo be relieved from taking charge of me. 1 was, there fore, placed for my education in a convent which was then in consid erable vogue, and in which were many young ladies of rank and for tune. It was usual for the pupils to remain in this establishment till they had attained their sixteenth or seven teeth }’ear, then to marry or to join their friends in the great world. Th is was also my sister’s intention with regard to myself, as she very frankly told me when she bade me adieu, and left me at the convent under the charge of a gov erness. Among the pupils was a Lady Emily O , to whom I soon be came greatly attached. She was several years older than myself, full of talents, spirit, and romance. She lived in the clouds, so to ex press it, and Platonic love was her ideal of all that was great and beau tiful. As I also possessed an easily excited fancy, Lady Emilie’s con versation fell upon a fruitful soil; though she was candid enough to tell rne that the real world offered little foundation on which to raise such brilliant structures of ideal beauty and perfection as she was fond of building. “Men are not what I take plea sure in representing them, ” she often said ; “it is only my fanc\ that loves lo paint them in such bright colors. But you will know them in time, and } T ou will be easily understood.” As 1 grew up I gradually adopt ed the notions of my friend, and lived with her in an ideal sphere, of which w’e w’ere, in truth, the only inhabitants. I forsook the play mates of my age, and passed whole days in hearing this modern Heloise read Wcrthcr , and tales of the same class, which she bad herself com posed in a still more exaggerated strain. Beyond bearing me repeat my lessons, my governess look little trouble about me ; and as the lady superior was satisfied with her reports, no one paid the least atten tion to my general way of going on. When 1 w’as fifteen years of age, Lady Emily died and left me all her papers and manuscripts. These I took with me when soon after wards I quitted tbe convent, and made them rny constant, almost my only study. How impatient I was to see the world, I had pictur ed to myself so beautiful ; but which, when beheld, I hardly recognized. Instead of allowing me to form a ro mantic attachment, to select (as the patron of my life) the objecl of my affection, my family presented Ba ron Nierking to me, and told me to look upon him as my future hus band ; that lie was a man of wealth, rank, and station—altogether un exceptionable, in fact; and that our marriage w'as a settled affair When I attempted to remonstrate I was laughed al, called a little fool, and was greatly surprised to find myself married before I had time to object, and almost before I knew how it has happened. My husband w’as about fifty, had once been handsome —knew 7 it* and still thought himself so. He was a man oflimited and little cultivated understanding, and of cold dispo sition. He had never loved me ; but the world called me happy, for I had wealth at command, and was allow’ed perfect and uncontrolled freedom. What could I desire more ? ‘Happy,’ indeed ! and what is this happiness of which all are speak ing ? 1 picture it to myself as a spirit, or essence, inhabiting a gold en temple with numerous gales, each surmounted by emblematical figures —toys of all sorts; here flower, and there laurels ; and eve ry individual on approaching hur ries tow’ards the gate which seems the most attractive. But how to open it when attained ? One as pirant sometimes spends a whole | life in knocking nt ‘nil ; another, in constantly tarrying at the same. Here a gate yields to our efforts, we tlffuk the goal is gained ; when, lo! a laughing demon points to the divinity we wish to approach, then thrusts us out, and we find our selves as far from the mark as ever. Phis was my fate. Love constitu ted jny ideal of happiness ; I could comprehend no other, anti this one source of happiness was to be de nied me< Notwithstanding my foolish and extravagant fancies I yet retained, during the earlier period of my m arned life, the strictest sentiments of duty. I suffered in my solitary position, and pride made me reject all the attention paid me ; but 1 con fess that even this feeling of duty ultimately gave way, and consign ed me to grief and sorrow. I sigh ed and sought for a heart to love me. At last I pictured to myselfan ideal,and of course, incomparable lover, having all the features and perfections of the favored heroes of ray romances. I looked round the brilliant circles of society, and smiled when I compared the most distinguished cavaliers with his fancied perfections. By degrees all my thoughts were fixed on this ideal lover, to whom 1 became at last fondly and affectionately attach ed. 1 spoke to him, wrote to him, sometimes represented him as ill, sometimes as jealous ; he joined the army, got into danger, and I sacri ficed myself to ensure his safety. Atlust we met again,and then fol lowed a period of undisturbed happi ness. He understood me perfectly, accompanied me through life, join ed me in society, and became a per fect guardian angel ; for I watched carefully every step of my conduct, in order to give him no cause of complaint. On his account I rejoiced in the attention paid me, and in the admiration mv general behavi •s O our excited; nor was there any pleasure or gratification which 1 was not ready to relinquish merely to oblige him : I was playing a real Comedy of Love in secret. This comedy lasted for three years, and the consequences impressed them selves strongly on my characrter; many of my friends hardly knew me again; some were alarmed by the change ; but I took no notice of their conjectures, and allowed them lo think whatever they pleased. What was the world’s opinion lo me ? I was twenty-three years of age when I passed four weeks on a visit at the castle of one of my cousins— even here, where I now write these lines. My ideal lover was not with me; hi* absence caused me, of course, much grief, and I was sigh ing for the hour of our next meeting. The period of my visit was at an end, and my departure fixed for the next morning, when my coach man reported that my carriage had received an injury which could not be repaired in less than a day. The delay vexed me a good deal, hut my cousin consoled me, as she ex pected a very pleasant addition to her party in tr.e morning. ‘My uncle,’ she said, ‘is coming ; and who do you think, Bertha, ac* companies him? Why your favo rite poet, the poetical hero, the adored of all the women, whom you have so long been anxious lo meet,— Count Arthur G *•’ These tidings easily reconciled me to the accident which had be fallen my carriage ; though I re proached myself in some measure, for this feeling. Did not all rny thoughts belong to him whom Iliad left at a distance ? But rny curiosi ty was excited, and the day pas sed in speculating on the appear ance of this lauded irresistible. We were four young ladies at the castle, and every one of us had form ed a different opinion on the sub ject. When assembled for break fast next morning, it was immedi ately observed that the toilets were more carefully selected than usual; the spirit ot coquetry seemed to per vade the whole party, and it might have been thought that we were ail in love with Count Arthur, so fre quently and impatiently did our eyes glance from the clock lo the castle gate. Atlast'a carriage drove up, and the whole party instantly hurried to the window ; I did not follow the example, but hastened to tny own room, hardly able to ex plain to myself ihc nature of my j motions. It actually required time and some effort before I could re cover sufficient composure to return to the drawing-room. With down cast eyes, and strangely agitated, I opened the door, but heard only one voice, that of my uncle, who j accosted mo in his usual friendly i manner ; I could hardly answer, till, ; looking about, I found that we were | alone. ‘Where are the ladies?’ 1 then ! inquired. ‘ln the garden, with Count Ar thur, my fair Lady Baroness.’ Without further remark the old ; gentleman immediately went up to | a glass-case that contained some I valuable antiquities, when as a keen i antiquarian, he always contemplat ed with renewed pleasure. I fol lowed mechanically, and was lis tening, without atttention, to a learned treatise on an ancient tiara, | when steps approached, and a young man of grave and calm as pect joined us. It was the Count himself ‘Count Arthur, my niece, Baron ess Nierking,’ said tny uncle* A few commonplaces followed on this introduction ; and though he must, of course, have seen me, 1 waited till he had addressed me before I ventured to raise my in order to look at him. He joined in the [conversation and, though very celebrated at the time, was totally unassuming. His observa tions all showed the man of taste and information, and 1 found them so striking, that I could almost have ancied them my own. The party now assembled and proceeded to visit the castle and es pecially a turret of some historical note, which my uncle never failed to inspect. To reach it we had to pass through a room which had been assigned as a study to ihe count, and where we found that some of his papers had been thrown carelessly on the table, as ifprepara tively to their being put in order. This led to a request that he would favor us by reading some of his compositions; he consented at last, and I took my seat on a sofa exact ly opposite to him. His reading was impressive, and he seemed to address every striking line of poetry so especially to me, that the other ladies actually appeared jealous, so that I was forced to rise merely to escape their inquisitorial glances* The count followed my example and joined me; my heart beat as if my very breast were about to burst asunder. I found myself drawn towards him by an irrestible power, which he probably observed. “And your ladyship lias actual ly resolved to leave us to-morrow?” lie said. “Yes, my lord,” I replied, looking round the room rather than at the speaker. “But wherefore so soon ?” he con tinued. “I leave with regret, but I am ex pected at home and these words having gradually restored my com posure, I left him, and the party re turned to the drawing-room. A lady look her place at the piano and sang, another followed her ample, and my uncle pressed me to do the same. My heart was full and I consented ; and feel convinced that the tones ofmv vo&e had nev er been so [touching* The count stood by my side ; he did not speak, but seemed fully to share my emo tions. 1 dwell so long on the his tory of this day, because it was the first, the eventsof which impressed themselves on my heart for life ; the [first day till to-day—which is the last. After dinner followed a walk in the garden. Count Arthur gave me his arm ; at first we spoke in the commonplace manner oi the com monplace things, that so often lead to the most interesting conversa tions. At last we came to the theme ofendless novelty and variety—the theme which has some time or oth er spoken home to the hearts of all who can feel, and of which all have either heard or thought—l mean, love. Count Arthur inquired what was my idea of love ? 1 had none. “Do you not think with me, my 1 lady,” be continued,, “that men in general too readily give way to this NUMBER 30.