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Published every Saturday, by j JAMES McCAFFERTY, MiCIKTOFH-SIREET, OPPOSITE FO.T OFFICE. Terms of Paper.— For a single copy, one Twi> DoLr.*Rs: for six copies, j Ten Dollars; for thirteen copies, Twen- 1 ty Dollars, payable in advance. Advertisements will be inserted at 50 i cents'per square fir the first insertion, ! and 25 cents for each con inuance— , Twelve lines to constitute a square. A liberal deduction tso yearly advertisers. No letters taken from the Post Office unless postage free. Officers Aususta T. A Society. Dr. JOS. A. EVE, President. Dr. DANIEL HOOK, J Rev. WM. J. HARD, > Vic Prsidnts 1 HAWKINS HUFF, Esq. ) i WM. HAINES. Jr. Secretary. L. D. LALLERSTEDT, Treasurer. Managers: James Harper, E. E. Scofield, Rev. C. S. Dod, James Godby, John Milled^e, From the Philadelphia Enquirer. Feuds among Friends and Relatives. RECONCILIATION. It is surprising to notice from what trivial causes serious difficulties will sometimes arise. A word, a jest, the hasty expression, has, in many instances, broken the friendship of years, and been the first cause of a bitter, remorseless and undying feud. Alas! for poor hu man nature. The prejudices and pass ions of the heart, the selfishness and j malevolence of men, are too often the sources, not only of unkind ness and pain to others, but of perpetual disquiet and unhappiness to themselves. There are in the world, too, individuals who appear to take delight in fomenting trouble, in increasing misunderstandings, in widen ing and imparting additional rancour to difficulties between friends. These ma lignant hypocrites, for they deserve no better appellation, generally profess to be extremely anxious to adjust the trou ble, to restore the confidence, and recon cile the feelings of the excited. * They, however, at the same time, contrive by an artful word, or a half admitted insin uation. to embitter and infuriate both par ties, and thus to convert into little better j than fiends, individuals who a few years, j or perhaps a few months before, would not have hesitated to make any sacrifice ! for the assislance of each other. It is, I moreover, a strange perversity in many \ minds, to be unwillwig to acknowledge 1 an error or repair a wrong. They are I naturally perverse and dogged, and, by some strange process of reasoning, en deavor to convince themselves that they are acting under the inlluence of princi ple and honor, when, in fact, they are governed by very different motives.— “ Blessed are the peace makers!”— How often may a truly benevolent friend, one who is disposed to do what is right without any malignant motive, one who wishes well to all about him, and to man bind at large, step in, and by the exer cise of prudence, moderation and for bearance, reconcile a difficulty. How j truly philanthropic is the spirit which animates such a mind ! How much bet ter thus to heal and adjust, than, by a ! Contrary course, to irritate and perplex ! i The Work of reconciliation is truly chris-! tian. It is calculated to bring peace to ! many a troubled breast, to sooth and give balm to many an agitated mind and! wounded heart—to convert hatred into love, harshness into kindness, and to i make ns, by reflection on the past, asha- j med of our moments of petulence and passion, and anxious to avoid such er rors and imperfections for the future. What nobler task could an individual be engaged in, than that of bringing to-, gether friends and relatives who had been long separated—separated, too, bv some trivial cause, by some hasty word, by some harsh expression or allusion, which at the time was not meant to of fend or wound. It is so easy at times, and especially when one is peevish, fret ful and out of humor, to imagine insult, where nothing of the kind was intend ed. We all, too, have particular moods. We have our hours of gloom, discontent and disaffection. At such times, we are universally sensitive. The slightest thing will stir us into passion, or induce us to utter someting harsh or complaining.— It is at such moments that difficulties are | apt to arise* We cannot even bear or- j dinary railing, while the remotest allu sion to any offensive subject or sore point, is at once regarded as an act of; wrong and outrage. This too,, we know, i and realize ourselves, in our calm and i thoughtful moments. But we lack the i nerve to admit the error, to take back i the harsh expression we have used, to i proffer an apology, and to hold out the hand of reconciliation. How fatal has < this obstinacy been to the happiness of j many! A slight offence, and perhaps I one that was never intended, has increas- g ed with the strength of years, by the i nursings of moody thought, the insinua- < lions and misrepresentations of pretend- $ ed friends, and thus, what might have < AUGUSTA WASHINGTONIAN. - ... VVV\VWVVV\VVV\VVVX\VVXVVVA\VV\ V VVVVVS V VVS\VVXVVNNVVVXV\VIVV\AV\V\VV^XVVV\'VVV\VVVX\VVX\\VV V W\V\\ V W»\A»VX>W\WVX>VV\W^XWWWV\WVXWV\ A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS, j Vol. III.] been explained in a breath, what would i have been forgiven promptly and gener ously, had the first word of atonement or j explanation been uttered, has rankled and deepened until the fearful feelings of j hatred and revenge have become dark features of our nature. Better, far bet- i ter in every case, where a doubt exists : as to the propriety of our own course, to ! stretch out the hand of reconciliation.— Better to forgive, once, twice, aye, a dozen times, than mistake or misappre ! hend, and on such fatal error, to foment a ; deadly and undying enmity. It has been [eloquently and beautifully said, “that! j when the veil of Death has been drawn I : between us and the objects of our re- j | gard, how quicksighted do we become to j their merits, and how bitterly do we then remember words or looks of unkindness which may have escaped us in our inter course with them. How careful should | such thoughts render us in the fulfilment |of those offices of affection which it may be in our power to perform! for who ; can tell how soon the moment may ar j rive when repentance cannot be followed by reparation.” From the Spirit of the Times. MARRIAGE OF BILL WARRICK and BARHR Y BASS. As described in a letter from Miss Nan cy Guitou to Polly Stroud. To Miss Polly Stroud, nigh Noxvil, in the State of Tennysee, dost by where the French Broad and Holsin jines. Piney Bottom, ) this July 9, of 1844. $ Miss Polly Strud—tlere maddam.—l now take my pen in hand of the presence j opportunity to let you know we are a.I j well, but I am purry in sperits hoping this j few lines may find you the same by gods mercy as I have bin so mortyfide I could ! cry my eyes out bodily. Bill Warrick, yes Bill Warrick, is married to Barhry | Bass ! I seed it done—a mean, triflin dececvinst creetur—but never mind— Didrit I know him when we went to old field school—a little ragged orfin Boy, with nobody to patch his close torn be hin a makin of a dicky-dicky-dout of him self —cause his old nigger oman Venus was too lazy to mend en? Didnt I know him when he couldnt make a pot hook or a hanger in his copy book to save his life, as for makin of a S he always put it tother way, jist so g backwards. And then to say I were too old sot him and that he always conceited I was a sort of a sister to him ! O Polly Stroud, he is so likely, particular when he is dressed up of i a Sunday or a frolick—and wlmt is worscr : his wife is prutty too, tho I dont acknovvl : ige it here. Only too think how I doat | ed on him, how I used to save bosim blos soms for him, which some people calls ! sweet sentid shrubs—and how I used to 1 put my hand in and pull them out for him,; and how I used to blush when he sed j ! they was sweeter for comin from where j i they did ? YVho went blackberrvin and j i huckleberyin with me? who always rode ; !to preechun with me and helped inc on the horse? who made Pokeberv stains in ( dimdns and squares and circles and harts j and soon at quilt ins for me? —and talkin :of Polk—l do hope to fathers above that ! ; Poke will beat Clay jist to spite Bill, for! he is a rank distracted Whig and secre-; (ary to the Clay Club—who always j threaded my nedle and has kissed me in ■ perticuler, in plavin of kneelin to the wittyist, bowing to the puttyist and kissin of them you love best, and playin Sister ! Feebe, and Oats, Peas-Beans and Barly | grows—at least one hundred times?— : Who vvated as candil holder with me at j Tim Bolins weddin, and sod he knowd ; one in the room hed heap rather marry,; and looked at me so uncommon, and his j eyes so blue that I felt my face burn for a j quarter of an hour? who I do say was it but Bill Warrick—yes, and a heap more. : If I havent a grate mind to sue him, and would do it, if it wasnt I am feared hed show a Voluntine, I writ to him Feber- j ary a year ago. He orter be exposed, j for ifhe is widderer heel fool somebody else the same way he did me. Its a burn in shame, I could hardly hold my head up at the weddin. If I hadnt of bin so mad and too proud to let him see it I could of ; cried severe. j: Well, it was a nice weddin—sich ice cakes and minicles and raisins and orin-; gis and hams—flour (loins and chicken i fixins, and four uncommon fattest big! goblers roasted I ever seed. The Bryde was dressed.in a white muslin figured i over a pink satin pettycoat, with white gloves and satin shoes, and her hair a 1 curlin down with a little rose in it, and a ! AUGUSTA, GA. JANUARY 4, 1845. chain around her neck. I dont know j : whether it was raal pool or plated. She i looked butiful and Bill did look nice, and ! all the candvdates and two preachers and I : Col. Hurd was there, and Bills nippers, : the likeliest nine of them you ever looked ! : at, and when I did look at ern and think, I ; raly thought I should or broke my heart. ; i Well, sicli kissin—several of the galssed that there faces burnt like tire, for one of] i the preechers and Col Hurd wosnt shaved ! dost. Bimeby I was asetlin teanin back, and i Bill he come behin me, and sorter jerked i me back, and sheared me powerful.— We had a right pood laugh on old Parson Brown as he got through a marryin of nm—says he, ‘*l pronounce you, Wil-» liam Warrick and Barbry Bass, man and oman,” —he did look so when we l&ffed, and he rite quick sed—“man and wife— salute your Bryde,” and Bill looked hor rid red. and Barbry trembled and blushed astonishin severe. Well, its all over, but I dont keer— theres as good fish in the sea as ever comeouten it. Im not poor for the likes of Bill Warrick, havin now three sparks, I and one of them from Town, whose got a I pood grocery, and leads the Quire at church outer the Southern Harmony, the .Mission Harmony is gone outen fashion. Unkle Ben’s oldest gal Suky is guine to marry a Yirginnv tobaeker roler, named Saint George Drummon, and he says he is kin to Jack Randolf and Pokerhuntus, who they is the Lord knows. Our Jack ! got his finger cut with a steal trap catcbin |of a koon for a Clay Club, and the boys is down on a tar raft, and old Miss Coliis 1 and mommy is powerful rumatic, and the measly complaint is amazin. I jist heard you have got twins agin—this lime-stone water must be astonishin curvous in its affects. What is the fashuns in Tenny see, the biggest sort ofßishups is the go here. My love to your old man, vour friend. NANCY GIIITON. Old Miss Coliis and mammy is jist eomo home. Betsy Bolin is jest had a fine son, and they say she is a doin as well as could be expected, and the huck lebery crop is short on account of the drouth. Margaret and the Mi lister, A Scotch Story : not Founded on, but at!fact. BY LAUHIE TODl). I spent a month in London in 1833. During this period I was engaged every night, Sundays excepted, to sonic club, society, converzatione, or dinner party. Among the latter, from the peer to the peasant. On one occasion I dined at Lord B ’s. There were twelve at the table, and six servants, in splendid uni form to wait I put on my best black, and went in thi carriage to ‘this important affair. I had got a few j glimpses of high life previous to this, so (•tlint I felt some confidence in myself i The mistressof the feast at the head of the | tableand on her rightsat a young lady, Mis ] C ,at the right of whom 1 was seated, ] while the eldest daughter of the family, a j j fine young lady of seventeen, sat at my : right hand. So that l sat between the j two. When I looked at the servants! i with their powdered beards and clothes jof scarlet—at the vessels of gold and si]- i ver. jars of china, and platters of glass,— ; jat the lords and ladies, the sirs, counts, j 'at the room, the seats, sofas, ottomans, i and foot-stools of which I had read of ! eastern luxury and splendor, and whose gas lamps and chandaliers sent forth a ! blaze more brilliant than a winter’s sun— i 1 thought this was rather going ahead of any thing of the sort I had yet seen, and was afraid I might make some blun ; ders; however I was resolved to main- i tain my confidence, and make myself, j perfectly at home, like my worthy coun- 1 jtrymen, Sir Andrew Wyle; at a ball j i given by the Dutchess of Dashingwell, and the next square to the one in which : I was then partaking of London hospital jity, I soon found that Miss C was a j social, intelligent mortal, and felt myself! at home with her at once. “Miss,” said I, “I have been at some fine parties in Edinburgh, Glasgow and ; Liverpool, but this is carrying the joke a little beyond anything I have before | seen ; I may go wrong, and I am some ! what like the old woman in Scotland, who went to dine with the minister; so if I blunder, you must help me along.” To this she readily consented, “ But what of the old lady in Scotland ?” said she. * “ I have heard my father,” I replied, “ tell the story, some fifty years ago.— It happened in the parish where he liver-” [Xo. 25 ] j She was much surprised to hear that he, my father, then lived, in his ninety, first year. “On a certain market day,” I contin ued, “ Margaret, the wife of a neighbor ing farmer—in addition to her load of hens, geese, &c., brought a small basket ;of eggs as a present to the minister.— ; Having sold off her load of sundries, she ! ■ wends her way to the parsonage. After j i inquiring how he, the wife and taw the I bairns did, she said : “I hae brought ye two or three fresh eggs so the gude wife, to help her in ma king your ban rocks,” (Christmas cakes.) “The eggs were kindly received, and • it being dinner hour, she was invited to , stop and eat her kail, (soup.) ‘“Nav, nay,’ says Margaret, ‘I dinna ken to behave at great folk’s table.’ ‘“Oh, never mind,’ said the minister, ‘just do as ye see we do.’ “ Margaret was finally persuaded, and sat down at the table. It so happened that the minister was old and well stricken with age, and had, withall, received a stroke of palsy—in conveying the spoon from the dish to his lip, the arm being unsteady, the soup was apt to spill ; there fore, to prevent damage befalling his clothes, it was his custom to fasten one end of the table cloth to the top of his ( waistcoat, just under the chin. Marga ret, who sat at the opposite end of the table, watching his motions, pinned the j other end of the table cloth to a strong j homespun shawl, under her chin. She ] was attentive to every move. *The rnin ister deposited a quantity of mustard on . the edge of his plate, and Margaret, not , observing this fugal exactly, carried the spoon to her mouth. The mustard soon , began to operate on the olefactory nerve. . i She had never seen mustard before, and did not know what it meant. She thought she was bewitched. To expectorate on the carpet would be a sin. She was al most crazy with pain. Just at this mo ment the girl coming in with some clean plates, opened the door near to which ! she sat. Margaret at once sprang for the door, upset the girl, plates and all, and swept the table of all its contents, the crash of which added speed to her flight. Ma. king two steps at once in descending the stairs, the minister, befast at the other end of the table cloth, was compelled to follow as fast as his tottering limbs could move. He held to the bannisters till the pins gave way, when away flew Marga ret, who never again darkened the min ister’s door.” The Secret ot Success. There are some men who appear born to good fortune, and others whose desti ny appears to subject them to eternal failure and disaster. The ancients rep resented Fortune as a blind goddess, be cause she distributed her gifts without discrimination; and in more modern times the belief has been prevalent that the fortunes of a man were ruled chiefly jby the planet under which he was born. I These superstitions, however ridiculous, i show at least that the connection between | merit and success is not very conspicu lous, yet it is not therefore the less per petual. To succeed in the world, is it ; self a proof of merit; of a vulgar kind ; indeed, it may be, but a useful kind not- j j withstanding. Wo grant indeed, that I those qualities of mind which make a man succeed in life, are to a great ex tent subversive of genius. Nevertheless, numerous illustrious examples might be given of men of the highest genius be ing ns worldly-wise as duller mortals. It is the pretenders to genius, rather than the possessors of it, who clainvthe large j exemption from those rules of prudence , which regulate tiie conduct of ordinary 1 mortals, and array themselves in the de- i jformities of genius in the idea that they " | constitute its beauties. There are some ( indiscretions, we believe, to which men of vigorous fancy and keen sensibility arc naturally heir to, and for which it would be as unjust to condemn them with ri<ror, as it would be to blame one of the cold-blooded sons of discretion for being 1 destitute of poetic fire. let every devi ation from prudence is a fault, and is not to be imitated, though it may sometimes , be excused. The most important elements of suc cess is economy, economy of money and of time. By economy we do not mean ! penuriousness, but merely such whole some thrifts as will discline us to spend our time or money without an adequate return either in gain or enjoyment. i An economical application of time i hrirgs leisure and method, and enable? ' WASHINGTONIAN TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE. We, whose names are hereantoftr,- nexeil, desirous of forming a Sncii ty for oar mutual benefit, and to guard against ia pernicious practice, which is injurious I to °ur health, standing and families, do • pledge ourselves as Gentlemen, not to drink any Spirituous or I Mult I.iquors, | Wine or Cider. us to drive our business, instead of our business driving us. There is noth ing attended with results so disastrous, as such a miscalculation of our time and means as will involve us in perpetual hur ry, and difficulty. The brightest talents must he ineffective under such a pressure, ;nnd a life of expedients has no end but j penury. Our receipe for succeeding in j the world then, is this, work much and j spend little. If this advice he followed, | success must come—unless indeed, some umvise adventure, or some accident n gainst which no human foresight could provide, such as sickness, conflagration, or other visitations of Providence, should arrest the progress onwards; hut, in the ordinary course of human affairs, success will ever wait upon economy—which is the condition by which prosperity must be earned. Worldly success, however, | though universally coveted, can he only desirable in so far as it constitutes to i happiness, and it will contribute very lit tle unless there be cultivated a lively be | nevolence towards every animated be j ing. “Happiness,” it has been finely observed, “is in proportion to the num ber of things we love, and the number of things that love us. To this senti ment we most cordially subscribe, and we should wish to see it written on tho tablet of every heart, and producing its fruits of charity. The man whatever bo his fame, or fortune, or intelligence, who can treat lightly another’s wo—who is not bound to his fellow-men by the mag ic tie of sympathy, deserves, ay, and will obtain, the contempt of human kind. Upon him all the gifts of fortune are thrown away. Happiness he has none ; his life is a dream ; a mere leth argy; without a throb of human emo tion; and he will descend to the grave “unwept, unhonored and unsung.”— Such a fate is not to be envied, and let those who are intent upon success, re member that success is nothing without happiness. Here are beautiful sentences from the pen of Coleridge. Nothing can be more eloquent—nothing more true : “ Call not that man wretched, who, whatever else he suffers as to pain in flicted or pleasure denied, has a child for j whom he hopes, and on whom he doats. Poverty may grind him to the dust, ob scurity may cast its darkest mantle over I him, his voice may be unheeded by those among whom he dwells, and his face may be unknown to his neighbors: even pain may rack his joints, and sleep flee from his pillow ; but he has a gem with ~ which he would not part for wealth defy ing computation, for fame filling a world’s ear, for the sweetest sleep that ever fell on mortal’s eye.” Another Heroine. Generally speaking, women have more courage and penetration than men.— Among the innumerable instances of wo man’s bravery, we mention one of a late occurrence. The three criminals, E. J. Efner, Charles Martin, and Benjamin M’Lean, who escaped from the jail in Charleston a few days since, were ar rested in Midway, and lodged in Barn well jail; and whilst there, they had succeeded in cutting loose the rivits from ; their chains, by means of a case knife, which was converted by them into a saw ; and when freed they rushed to the door j opening into the yard. But the Jailor’s ! wife, witji woman’s bravery, was too ! quick for the criminals; having succeed | <>d in closing the door from the outside. They then removed the iron bars from the fan lights over another door, and M’Lean jumped through ; but on being knocked down and secured by some one of those who came to the assistance of the jailor’s wife, the others made no farther effort at escape. They were re-convey ed to Charleston.— Hamburg Jour. Tell not thy secrets to a friend, for thy friend has a friend. In no circle in life are the endearing ties of friendship so strongly entwined, as in school. Pride frequently keeps people in igno rance. A Philosopher being asked by what means he had acquired so much knowl edge, replied, “By not being prevented by pride, from asking questions when I was ignorant.” In a discourse in behalf of a blind asylum, the speaker began by gravely re marking, “If all the world were blind, what a melancholy eight it would be,”