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4V6VBIA WASBXXrCfrTGKXAVr. ' ’^ ww,vv^WV<VVV^VW%\%W%»»%l»»»^V»v^vw < & ©Hwra® jFumHH® f)spr: SWMrteft to Sfrr&Mtrcjp, Vol. ll No. 47.] Clie €®asiuiiotoiti!itt am be PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING, BY JAMES McCAFFERTY, At the low price of one dollar per annum, for aj| a single subscriber, five dollars for a club of wL s ix i or ten dollars for a club of twelve sub- JB scribers— payment, in advance. ’All Communications, by mail, addressed to the publisher, must be post paid to receive atten |jf tion. By the rules of the Post-Office Depart ment, Post masters may frank subscription f money for Newspapers. Advertisements will be inserted at the follow jtff ing reduced ratesFor one square, not cx jc ceeding twelve lines. 50 cents for the first > insertion, and twenty-five cents for each con- P | tinuance, if published weekly; if semi-monthly 374; and if monthly 43} cents, for each con tinuance. Yearly advertisers 10 per ct. discount. Three Experiments iu Drinking, or, 1 'Three Eras in the Life of an Inebriate. FASHIONABLE DRINKING. In commencing the second era of this «td, eventful history, and before resum ing the narrative, I will very briefly in-j form the reader what has transpired du a lapse of fifteen years. In the first ■ place, Charles Morion has led the beau tiful and accomplished Louisa Staples to the altar of Hymen. Their marriage has been blessed with two children, a •on and a daughter; the former is Wil liam, a bright-eyed boy, twelve years ot 'Age, and the latter a rosy, cherry-check- Sfcd, blue-eved girl, the impress of her mother. One was the father’s pet, and the other the mother’s darling. Poor * Louisa! with thy beauteous son and i daughter by thy side, and thine own vir tuous heart and contended mind, thy lot ■ seems to be elysium itself; the sun of thy Y existence shines in all its glory, but only 1 to set in darkness and despair. Charles has taken down the old sign of § Staples, which had so long borne the # peltings of the pitiless storm, and in its ; place, stands that of Charles Morton, in - handsome golden letters. * * * In the very centre of the “literary emporium,” stands the well-known hotel 1 of Buckeyes. The stranger, who might accidently saunter that way, would scarcely think, from any outward marks, that this house was the head-quarters of all the connoisseurs of good liquors, par ticularly whiskey-punch, of the very first quality and of the highest price. But a careful observer who had inquisitiveness enough to place himself at a corner of the street, might see a little dapper gen tleman sitting, on a summer’s day, under I the shade of the portico, with a swallow r tailed green coat, and fancy-brass but tons; and a pair of culottes cut close to legs of no ordinary dimensions, which he luxuriously throws, alternately, one over the other. From his neck dangles a beau tiful safety-chain, fancifully shaped to his | snow-white frill. There is a pleasing * negligee in his air, which would do honor to a nobleman; and, while he holds the light Havana between two digits of his 1 right hand, there is displayed, upon the * little finger, a diamond of the first wa- I p ter. This is the very prince of publi cans, sitting under his own vine and fig tree, with none to disturb him or make him afraid. A handsome, young, and well-dressed gentleman, with his hat carelessly cock ed on one side of his head, is seen pass ing slowly through the street; suddenly he halts in front of the hotel, and after be i; stowing a few anxious glances around, he passes unperceived between the green W doors. | How are you, to-day, neighbor Buck eye, said Harry Dashall. Perfectly free and easy, as you per- 1 ceive, replied the host, leisurely drawing the cigar from his mouth. Any news stirring ? Not a word, to-day. How goes trade with you ? 1 Dull—very dull; but I’m glad of it, for a little leisure seems quite requisite, 1 after the fatigues of last evening. * Who was here ? I Why, now I think of it, you were not 1 here last night; you missed' a rare time, I * I can assure you. Morton was on hand, < as usual, and we had a spirited time,— < cracked a dozen of champagne, and kgpjL it up until two o’clock; quite spirited ’pon honor. Who paid the bill ? That’s a pretty question,—why, who should pay it but Morton ?—and a nice jk bill it was, too. , Yes, I’ll warrant that. ( Morton is a fine, noble fellow. 1 And well can you say it, for he’s the very prop of your establishment. Why, yes, he does give me a hand some living, said mine host, carelessly. He’s always the victim on every con vivial occasion, and generally pays pret ty dear for his whistle. He has the name of a clever, good hearted young man. And pays dear enough for the title. But did you know he gives a grand party at his house, to-night;—and, let me see, said Buckeye, taking from one of the swallow-tails a package of letters, I believe you are invited ; here’s Brown, Smith, Jenkins, Turner, Tel—aye, I thought so,—To Harry Dashali, Esq., present. Harry opened the billet, and ! read : Mr. Morton’s compliments, and would be happy to see him this evening, at nine o’clock, precisely. I shall be there, most assuredly. Landlord—landlord! cried some dozen voices, from one of the adjoining rooms, bring us full glasses of punch; and pre -1 sently, one of the noisy inmates stag ‘ gered into the entry.—lt was Hapgood. Ah! Harry, my buck, —glad to see ' you; come, step in and join us. Harry accepted the invitation. The room was full of men, and all were in * the height of enjoyment. You see, said George to Harry, after introduction, we are all preparing for Morton’s great party, to-night. We ex pect to have a jolly time, for you know lie never spares any trouble or expense, on such occasions. Last night, he gave _ one of the most fashionable soirees I have ever beheld; all the beauty and fashion of the city were there; the ladies looked | charmingly; their bright eyes were like darts, and I warrant you many felt their keenness. The evening’s entertainment concluded with some splendid tableaux; . it was a perfect theatre, I assure you. Charles must have felt in a most gen ' erous mood, said Mr. Gadley, or else ’ great partiality to some of his fair guests, ! for he made presents of a most costly kind. You should have seen him. Re ally, Mr. Morton, said one, this Grecian costume is elegant, and it becomes me better than my own dress. Allow' me to make you a present of it, said Charles. It grieves me much to part with this - Ariel dress, said another; Shall I send il home for you ? said Charles. This par ’ adise feather is indeed beautiful, remark ed a third ; A mere trifle, said Charles, it is yours. And pretty picking they . made of it, for before morning, I really believe, all his rich wardrobe was divided among the company. Morton is a good-hearted fellow, said George Bilker, and he always pays his debts. Debts of honor, in particular, replied ' Hapgood. Yes,—as, for example, I won one hun dred dollars of him one night, last week,' | at billiards, and he liquidated the debt ; next day, by check. He has been particularly unlucky at that game, lately, and never ventures large but he loses. But such things are mere trifles to a , gentleman of his fortune. But you know the old saying, George, frequent droppings will wear a stone, — , and I fear, if he continues, his purse will ( grow leaner by it. While this conversation was going for ward at the hotel, the preparations for< the evening’s fete were being made.— Charles had spared no expense that would 1 add to the brilliancy and magnificence of : the occasion. Some of the most wealthy j and distingue of the city were invited, 1 and all the rooms were decorated in the 1 most costly style, thrown open for the re- ( ception ot visiters. Early in the eve-, 1 ning, all the company had assembled 1 and soon the sound of mirth and revelry j was heard around the spacious dwelling. 1 The beautiful Louisa was seen moving ( among the gay assemblage, and welcom- ] ing her female friends, with that grace ( and urbanity which had won the admira- j tion of all. * * * * * ( * The sweet music sum- moned the guests to the ball-room, and f the beautiful wife of Charles Morton ‘ opened the ball. If the company were c delighted with her appearance before, c hey were now charmed with her sylph- c ike movements.in the mazy dance; the f adies congratulated her upon her fine v ippearance, and the gentlemen loaded ler with compliments upon her surpass- € ing beauty. While the dance was at its 4 climax, one of the domestics called c Charles aside, and hastily thrust into his \ hand a letter. He opened it, and his co- 1 AUGUSTA, GA. SATURDAY, APRIL 27, 1844. lor instantly changed. As ke perused the contents, agitation was depicted upon his countenance. No accident, I hope, said one of the company, whose atten tion had been attracted by the entrance of the domestic; not the slightest, re plied Charles, with firmness,—and in a moment his countenance brightened with its usual serenity. I felt at first, anger at being interrupted, but it is passed now’, he continued, as a forced smile played upon his cheek. The ball was kept up at a late hour, when, after partaking of a rich supper, a portion of the company, particularly the females, retired. Those who remained, were ushed into a spa cious room, where a magnificent cham pagne feast was prepared. The profuse ness with which the table was set out, operated like a charm upon the company, for in a moment every place was occu pied. Come, my friends, said Charles, now that the ladies are absent, let ua enjoy ourselves in our ow r n way. Really, Charles, said young Dashall, I have been so long basking in the sun shine of their beauty this evening, that I begin to feel the clouds coming o’er me. And this is the only thunder that will dispel them, said Charles, as he cracked a bottle of champagne, so fill, my bucks; and Dash, my boy, name your beauty, and we’ll drink her health. Yes, give us her name, continued all. Really, gentlemen, I was too intent upon her charms to inquire her name. I should not be able to comply with your wishes, had I not overheard some young swain, equally enamored with myself, call her Mary; so I will e’en give you that,— Mary. I can sympathise with you, Dash, con tinued Hapgood, for I have been wound ed by u pair of eyes, that in every glance sent forth cupids, and in truth the little winged messengers have pierced me to the heart with their arrows. This is the only sovereign balm for the wounds, said Charles, so fill again, my friends, and let us administer the anti dote. But I have been more successful than my friend Dash, for I obtained the sur name of my fair one; so gentlemen, al low me to give you Miss Lucretia Love j°y- And we’ll drink her health in bumpers, said Charles. But how low Rambleton, methinks you look uncommonly grave to-night. The bright eyes seem to have been contagious this evening. Tom’s body is here, but I’ll swear “ His love is in the Hielands, His love is nae here * as the poet says. Excuse me gentlemen,said Rambleton, my head goes wool gathering a little, I’ll join you in a twinkling. The health of the lady was drank, with many others, in the same way, and soon the table resounded with mirth and revelry. The noble and generous hearted Mor ton was toasted to the skies, and each re sponse was followed by bumpers and bra vos. Bottle after bottle of the generous liquor was opened and followed each oth er in rapid succession, ipto the common channel. All care and restraint was soon drowned by the overwhelming flood; the mighty sceptre of reason, began to crumble fast before her throne; the tongue discoursed most incoherent and unnatural sounds, and all eyes which were not entirely eclipsed, saw double, strange and wonderful sights. The revel was kept up, until the bottles and glasses began to cut antic capers upon the board, and change into all the variegated forms of the kaleidscope; and the company as they raised the glass to their lips mechan ically, in token of acknowledgement to some incoherent sentiment, gradually dropped off one by one into the arms of Morpheus, and as they lay stretched upon the floor and tables, some in the heat op pressed brain, shouted the fag-end of a convivial song, which was answered only by the ready chorus of snores and mut terings. Then the domestics who were in waiting, assisted the helpless by force of arms to the carriages, and they were driven home. Charles was conveyed un conscious to his bed room,, to pass the few remaining hours of the night, in fe verish dreams and restlessness. He arose next morning, haggard, flush ed and debilitated. * * * * * The sad news which the letter of the last evening had communicated, which had been buried in a few hours ob livion by drink, now came before him 1 like a fiend. That letter contained the i news of the loss of more than half his , fortune, by the destruction on the coast of • one of his ships, in which he had invest - !e d largely. The insurance policy had • eipired just one week before the wreck, l and this time which urgent business so i much required, had all been spent in dis • sipation, and in preparing the grand par ,ty of last evening. While he was pon -1 dering how he should relate this loss to ) his dear wife, Louisa entered the room I dressed in a morning gown of white— , She looked sorrowful as she took her hus- J band affectionately by the hand, but it • was but momentary, and her face was ■ again wreathed with smiles. Why did you appear so sad my dear, ’ when you first came m, inquired Charles. ’ A foolish dream, which was in sooth ' far from being pleasant; it commenced in sunshine and ended in clouds. I’ll tell 7 it thee, my love. As I lay upon my bed, a dark cloud seemed to come over me, but on a sudden it opened into light and » broke forth upon thy native hills; there ■ I saw thee, Charles, in all thy school-boy 1 gayety, gliding with nimble step among r the forest trees which you have often told me grew near by your cottage door. I thought I took thy hand and wandered with thee to a lovely spot spread with > tender plants and flowers of gayest hue. > While we sat together under a woodbine shade, a vision came upon me; soft mu • sic floated in the air, a reverend priest | came forth, and as we knelt together, be ' fore the altar, our marriage vows were r spoken, and we were one. Years passed ' off like fairy dreams in this romantic • spot, when lo! the beauty of the scene 1 faded, and all was dark and dismal; black, horrid forms glided by, and grinning fa ■ ces looked upon us, and with their breath, ' smote away the rich habiliments of beau ! ty; and we were left in rags and want, ! houseless and suffering; our children lay } before us grasping with hunger, and de spair was raging in both our hearts. ' This is, indeed, too dreadful to be re -1 alised;—’tis strange, but yet a dream ; my love, think of it no more, j Let us now look a little into some of _ the business affairs of Mr. Morton— While that illustrious personage wasplay ing high-life at the gay shrine of Bac chus, his clerks, like master, like man, were acting the same piece below stairs ; ’ and imitating, as far as possible, the ’ same splendid scenery and incidents, and ' all the paraphernalia, which were daily ' set before them as examples, by their no ble master. While the former was ne glecting his business, and devoting him. self as the votary of fashion,-wasting his health and reputation in intemper ance and its consequent vices, and squan ’ dering his property upon every extrava gant luxury, the latter were suffering the rich mercantile soil to run to weeds, and j helping their master in spending his for | tune in riotous living. Charles Morton little thought that by his present course of conduct he was killing the goose that lay the golden eggs. But so it was.— ■ The great loss which he had met, instead ■ of inciting him to exertion to retrieve his i broken fortune, only caused him to plunge still deeper into intemperance. One i evening, while on the way to the hotel, he < was met by a friend, who informed him ; that one of his clerks had just shot him > self in the counting-room. He immedi -1 ately hastened to the spot; already the I store was crowded with people, and just • as he arrived the young man breathed • his last. The newspapers of the next day gave a mornful account of the sui -1 cide stating that no cause could possibly I be assigned for the deed, but that the ’ youth had, of late exhibited some signs iof derangement. But a subsequent ex amination of the books told a different | tale—lt appeared that he had embezzled a large amount of property to support his extravagant and dissipated career; and the quarterly account-day having just ar rived, rendered it impossible to keep the fraud any longer a secret, and in a mo ment of despair he had done the awful deed. The quarterly accouhts found Morton’s affairs in a critical situation, which coming to the ears of his credi tors, they levied upon the remainder of his property, and his store and house were soon filled with the menials of the law. The next step was a sheriff’s sale, andaf- j ter payment of debts, he was left com- , paratively a poor man. In this situation of affairs he could no longer afford to | keep the beautiful Mary at a boarding school, or his son William at college.— The former was taken home, and the lat ter was withdrawn during the third year [One Dollar a Year. iof his college course. He was employed i by one of Charles’ mercantile friends to 'go to the East Indies, to transact busi ness, whither he sailed in one month af ter the failure. Charles Morton, with his wife and daughter, followed by Hap i good, Highflier, Dashall, and some others of his supposed friends, removed to New York. A Word to Young Men* In the first place then, bring strongly before your minds the deep, personal in terest you have, keeping yourselves se ; cure from the evils that threaten you. ! Recollect your high destination, as rational and immortal beings, and remem ber, that your all, both for this, and the future world, depends on the manner in which you demean yourselves in this state lof your probation. Ifj during the few I years in which your characters are form ing, you shun the paths of vice, and care ’ fully cultivate habits of virtue, intelli j gence, and good conduct; you cannot , lad to rise to respectability and useful , ness, and happiness. You will have the , sweet approbation of your own minds to \ cheer and animate you; friends will rise [ up to patronize and encourage you, provi- I dence will smile upon your efforts and , ways; and your life, crowned with the blessings of God and the gratitude of your , fellow men, will decline in peace, and give a fair promise of a bright rising in anoth |er world. Remember, my young friends; that all this depends on a few short years; ’ upon this vernal season of habit and char j acter; upon the very hours that are now . flitting by you. Improve those aright, and you are made forever—misimprove them, and you are undone forever. » . The Old Flag of the United States. > All our readers may not be aware that - the original flag hoisted on board our ves » sels during the Revolutionary war had a ' rattlesnake upon it. In a recent Phila ■ delphia Forum we see that John H. Sherburne, Esq., author of the life of . Paul Jones. “Naval Sketches,” dec., ; in reply to the North American’s queries relative to the colors of the American p Flag of the Revolutionary war, and the . position of the snake, remarks. The flag was thirteen stripes, red and . white, with a rattlesnake extended, mouth ( open and sting out, toward the outer folds I of the flag —the tail touching the staff os s springing on a foe; under the snake the | following words Don’t tread upon Me.” , There was no field of blue and white, or . stars, but simple as above stated—and it . was the very flag, which proudly floating . from the main royal of the frigate Alii r ance, (the hull of which now lies opposite ! the city,) under the gallant Paul Jones, , that dashed through a British fleet of twen , ty one sail of the line, in the North Sea; i the intrepid Jones delivering his star | board and larboard broadsides under a ten , knot breeze into the Admiral, and receiv ed the fire of the whole fleet as he passed, i and under full chase ofthe formidable foe, arrived in safety at Brest. ’ - The Drop of Water. A Fable.—A drop of water fell into the 1 ocean, and on seeing the mighty waves 1 agitated in their immense caverns, it ex ! claimed in shame and sadness, Alas! ! what am I, compared to this immensity! 1 Yesterday, I shone bright and sparkling in the cloud, but to-day the withered leaf ' that floats on the waters, is greater than ! I am.” The gods, moved at this gentle repining, endued the drop of water with I the robe of nobility; they placed it in a shell, where it was soon changed to a precious pearl, and it afterwards sparkled in the crown of a king. This fable, gentle reader, is not with -1 out a moral. God exalts the humble. Death, of Children —Leighton thus [ wrote on hearing of the death of a child: , “ Sweet thing, and is he so quickly laid to sleep ? Happy he! Though we shall have no more the pleasure of his lisping and laughing, he shall have no more the pain of crying, nor of being sick, nor of dying. Tell my dear sister, that she is now so much more akin to the other world; and this will be quickly passed to us all. John is but gone an hour or two to bed, as children used to do, and we are undressing to follow.” • “ Boys,” said Admiral Trunson, as his fleet closqd in combat with the Dutch un der Admiral de Winter, “you see a se vere Winter approaching, I advise you to keep a good fire.” The New York Assembly have passed a bill to abolish mechanical labor in their State prisons.