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O licars Au;mta tv. T. A Society.
Dr. JOS. A. EVE, Pr^ipext.
Dr. DANIEL HOOK, i
Rev. WM. J. HARD, > Vice Presidents
HAWKINS HUFF, Esq. )
WM. HAINES, Jr. Secretary.
L. D. LALLERSTED F, Treasurer,
mixagers;
James Harper. IE E. Scofield,
Rev. C. S. Dod, J James Godby,
John Milledje, "
Cure for the Dis'cmper in Cattle. —l
cannot resist giving a receipt fnr I lie
treatment of beasts that may lake the
prevalent distemper. It showed itself
last winter in one of mv yard stock, by
discharging abundant saliva from the
mouth, with sore and inflamed tongue
and gums, no appetite, confined bowels,
and very hot horns. I desired the bai
liff to give him one half-pint of the spirit
of turpentine, with one pint of linseed
oil. repeating the oil in twenty-four hours
and again repeating it according to the
state of the evacuations. At the end of
twenty hours more, the bowels not having
been well moved.! repeated both turpen
tine and oil. In two days, the beast
showed symptoms of amendment, and in
three or four took to his food again, and
did perfectly well. All the yard beasts
and two of the fattening beasts have had
it. and all have been treated in the same
with perfect success. Little beside oat
meal gruel was given.— Quarterly Jour,
of Agricult.
Soap — A Hin' in Houxetrifery —ln
summer and autumn, your soap grease is
apt to accumulate beyond your immedi
ate wants, if put away it is apt to ho de
voured by maggots, and if made into
soap, vou may not have pine or other ap
propriate vessels enough to hold if. Hav
jng suffered loss from being placed in
such circumstances, we were much grat
ified with a piece of intelligence acciden
tally received, which relieved us from
this dilemma. Bv boiling your soft soap
with salt, about a quart of the latter to
three gallons of the former, you can sep
arate lev and water enough to make the
soap hard. After boiling half an hour
turn it out in a tub to cool. Cut the
cakes which swim on the top into pieces,
and having scraped off froth and other
impurities, melt again (without the lev
and water underneath of course.) and
pour it into a box to cool. You may
then cut it up into bars of proper dimen
sions for drying. By adding a propor
tion of Rosin, well pulverised at the lasi
boiling, vou will have yellow soap like
that marie for the market.
lMOS©i£iL!L^^lEDiy)S B
For tlie Washingtonian.
THE PRISONER OP HOAIIDIL.
A Romance of Granada.
4
BY MARCUS.
Know yc the land where the laurel and myrtle,
Are emblems ot deeds that are done in their
clime 1
*»***«•**
O wild as the accents of lover’s farewell,
Arc the hearts which they bear and the talcs
which they tell. Byron.
I.
Gone, forever gone, are the days of ro
mance and chivalry; “like a dream
when one awnketh” is their remem
brance ; vet they linger in my mind, like
the memory of some beautiful vision,
seen hut once and then vanished forever.
But still, in pouring o’er the tomes of
bye-gonedayi, will imagination rollback
the darkling tide of time, and reveal to
mine eyes, the form of the noble war- j
rior, who now lieth beneath the abbey’s
pavement, bending his knee before his
ladyc love, or rushing on his barbed steed j
to the battle-field, with her name for a
watch-word, and a braid of her hair for a
talisman to guard him from danger.—
And when he had won a laurel crown he
would lay it at her feet, and receive for
his reward the smiling glance of her ap
probation. Ah ! how lovely are those
Iberian maids, whose cheeks arc but
tinged by their native sun, only to show ;
the ripeness and passion of their hearts.
Well might the warrior brave danger and
death to bask in the light of their large
dark eyes, so passionate and fathomless.
in pu .■ ■■■■■■■ .i ■■ rn r-rrr-i munuirr.LTxm
■ vv%
A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS.
Vol. III.)
Whose every look was love—whose love
the charm of existence. Yet there is
one, sweet Aralc, and thou dwellost in
my own sunny land, and thou art beneath
my own bright sky. who is lovelier far to
mine eyes linn my brightest dream of
Eastern beauty ever revealed. ’Tis for
thee I burn the midnight lamp and bond
mine eve upon the classic page, and
muse o’er the tomes of the olden time
to garner of thoughts and fancies, and
; weave them into stories; and thy dark
eye shall rest on these pages, and if I
j win one smile of approbation, I do not
write in vain.
11.
The king of Spain is tented on the
; plains of Granada, and the confused hum
jof voices fall on the ear like the tnur
, muring of the distant sea. Far as the
| eye can reach, the tents of ten thousand
| warriors lie gleaming in the moonlight,
which falling in mellow richness on the
beautiful vega, robes every object in an
enchanting splendor. Upon a command
ing eminence in the distance, stands the
marquee of the noble and illustrious
Marquis dc Cabra, called by the ladies
of the Spanish court, “the mirror of
chivalry;” its silken banners arc float in"
fitfully on the faint breeze; the gorgeous
hangings glittering like burnished gold
in the brightness of the Cynthian mys;
and still farther in the distance, reposes
the superb and regal city of Granada,
whose last king is sitting on his throne;
whoso rule is soon to pass into other’s
hands—whose brave and patriotic peo
ple had strewed the plain with their
hones, and poured out their blond like wa
ter in her defence. But their bones
bleach'd in the blast, and the earth drank
their blood in vain. They were soon to
be torn from her walls, and banished for
ever from the happy homes of their
youthful days. There was something
romantic and tender in their patriotism,
which could only be equalled in the de
votion of the lover to his mistress, and
before the clouds of war hud gathered
o’er their sky they deemed their lovely
land under the especial care of the proph
et; and in their warm and poetic imagi
nation, they fancied that the cclcgtial
paradise which is promised in the Koran,
was suspended immediately over their
heads; and that their own enchanting
country was but a reflection of its bliss
lull gardens, which are prepared for those
who can pass AI Sirat’s fiery bridge in
safety ; and hear the houris chanting,
with theii heavenly voices, songs of wel
come, and see them waving their green
kerchiefs, to those bravo spirits who had
lost their lives in battling against the
Mazarines fur the Prophet and their
; country.
111.
There was one, who sometimes ascend
ed a lofty tower, the battlements of;
which rose high above the rest, to gaze*
j with longing eyes on the gorgeous pano- j
plv of war which spread o’er the plain j
that lay beneath his glance; lie was a!
captive youth, whose daring soul being 1
fired with a passion for military fame,!
bad made him rush into the battle-field :
where ho had done prodigies of valor
■with his single arm; but in one of the
skirmishes, having spurred his mettled
courser too far from his followers, he was
captured by the guards of Boabdil el
Chico, the Moorish king. He sighed to
mingle in the melee that every day oc
curred beneath his eye, and in which the ;
young noblesse of Spain were reaping
fadeless laurels. And yet if he had
been granted his liberty he would have
been loth to leave the beseiged city, for
although it was a prison, yet it was so
pleasant a prison, that in peaceful times
he would not have changed it for the
power of roving free among his native
hills. ’Tis strange how love will bind
the heart and lead it captive, and learn
it to endear places which to the passioD
AUGUSTA, (.A. MARCH 8, 1845.
| less would prove irksome. Thus it was
with Juan, the young count dc Cabra,
who, though confined within the city,
had all the courtesy paid to him which
i his rank and bravery deserved; for al
though Boabdil was fierce and haughty
to the Spaniards when battling against
them, yet he was mild and lenient to the
vanquished who fell in his power. Juan
had gazed on the form of Zuleika, one
of the loveliest flowers of the Alhambra.
| and togaze on Zuleika was to love ; and
Juan’s eyes had taken such a deep
: draught of her beauty, that his only hap
| piness was to listen to her sweet voice
land walk with her in the gardens of the
palace. And oft at moon light would he
stray at her side, among the gushing
fountains, sparkling in the clear light,
| and whisper tales of passionate love in
j her willing car; and oft benonlh her lnt-
I tice has his tinkling guitar poured forth
strains of sweet melody, and liis rich
voice rose on the breeze in amorous song
i to tell her that his soul was entranced
i with her loveliness, and how he would
; win a laurel crown and lay it at her feet,
j And oft would her delicate hand wave
from the lattice in token of approbation,
ito the minstrel beneath Ah! what on
earth is more dear to the youthful heart,
when the first fires of love arc burning
in their virgin flame, upon its altar, than
the approbating smile of its mistress. It
was on a soft and balmy evening that
the young lover stole beneath her lattice,
and looking around saw that all was still,
he heard no sound save the warbling of
of the nightingale or the falling spray
from the fountains, so hanging his guitar
around his neck he sung to an exquisite
melody, a ditty which he had oft heard
among the cavaliers when sera nailing
their ladies.
I.
Though the nightingale mav sing, love.
Bright stars shine in the skies,
They no solace to me bring, love,
For 1 sigh to see thine eyis.
If.
My song must vainly prove to tell, love,
How much my heart is thine,
Thy glance has houml it in a spell, love,
And it boweth at thy shrine.
111.
Their light can only cheer the soul, love,
That pineth for a gleam,
Then qui. kly hack the lattice roll, love,
That mine eyes may drink the beam.
The music ceased, and a delicate hand
- rolled the lattice softly hack, and the
I maiden, beautiful as creation’s first born
! daughter, stood revealed to the eves of
jtho young cavalier. “Beloved,” said
■ Juan, “ I have waited an anxious hour to
hear thy sweet voice.” “Ah, Juan, I
was thinking of thee when thy soft mel
ody stole upon mine car,” returned the
maiden, “yet it makes me sad.” ‘The
air is one that mv mother used to sing
before her spirit fled from Earth to —
j Heaven,” added Juan, as the girl paused.
! “ Ah Juan, the Muftis say that the Propli
et has written that women arc like (he
j fragile flowers, that bloom beautiful on
! earth, hut have no home in paradise.”—
“ Believe it not,”said Juan, “ for heaven
! would be no paradise to me, if thou wert
j wanting. The Prophet ought to have
his beard pulled for writing it; and as
for the Muftis, if I ever get without the
walls of Granada to grasp my Toledo
blade again, I will send a half a score of
them to Eblis for preaching it.” “Dost
thou then sigh to leave Granada. Juan,”
said the maiden, rather reproachfully.
“Beloved.” said Juan, “to leave Grana
da without thee were to die, yet my soul
pineth in this dull inactivity; I see our
glorious banner floating on the vega, and
my heart swells at the trumpet’s sound,
to mingle in the fight. Only say, love,
that thou wilt fly with me, and ere long
we shall he free as the breeze, I have
bribed Agerbia, the sanfon, to aid us in
escaping.” “O Juan,” said the girl,
“trust not the santon, he is cruel and de
ceitful, and will ensnare you; once he
: sought my love, but I scorned him, and
now he does all he can to persecute me.”
i As the girl spoke, the leaves rustled near
i tljem, and a form flitted across the gar
den walk ; Juan put his hand to his side
for his sword, forgetting he was a prison*
■er. “Fly! Juan, fly!” said the fright*
ened Zuleika, “wc are overheard, and
j you are in danger.” “One kiss, love,”
i said Juan, seizing her hand, and pressing
it passionately to his lips. Then Auios
fell on his car, and the lattice dosed.
IV.
The morning rose in beauty in the
eastern sky, and poured its golden light
on tower and tree —atagan and arquebus
gleamed around the palace of the Aben
cerragcs, and the divan was assembled
in the council chamber. “ Where is tl.c
| scornful Nuzarine,” cried the king,
“where is the Christian dog, who has
despised our kindnts? and laughed to
scorn our holy prophet? Bring him
forth ” and his heard curled with ire.—
“He comes,” said the santon, Agerbia,
making way for the prisoner; and in a
moment Juan stood before Boabdil, and
gazed him in the face with an undaunt
ed look. “Juan do Cabra,” said the
king, “you arc summoned to our pres
ence, to hear the charges made against
you by the good Agerbia. We arc loth
to give you to the headsman without
heating if you have any cause why you
should prove ungrateful to the kindness
you have received of us. Your king,
whose lent is pitched outside (lie city,
treats my people like dogs when they
fall in his power, but thou hast forfeited
the kindness with which we are wont to
treat the unfortunate.” “ I have naught
to say, O king, in my defence : I spoke
against the Prophet and the Muftis, and
sought to escape—if these are my crimes
lam guilty. I will not he!ie the words
spoken in the garden last night, they
came from my heart, and if rny trusty
sword had been by my side, your eaves
dropper had not told liis tale this morn
ing,” and the prisoner looked vengeance
at the santon. “Then Juan de Cabra,”
said Boabdil, turning pale with anger,
“hear thy doom. Thou shalt die.”—
Juan bowed bis bead. “Slave!” cried
the king to a tall muscular African, who
stood behind the throne, “thy bow-;
string.” The headsman advanced.—;
“ Hold ! O king,” said the brave war- ;
rior, Ben Muza, who stood near the I
monarch. “ Hold ! and spare the young j
soldier. The santon is a villain, and de-1
serves the bowstring more than the Nnz
!urine; he has played the traitor. Zu
jleika is my neice, and the Iraso-santon
; loves her ; hut she has scorned him away, j
jas unworthy of her noble heart. He is j
j jealous of his successful rival, and has
played the caves dropper to deliver him |
up to thee, O king, that lie might have
revenge; at least thou wilt spare the
i Mazarine until another sun has lit the
sky, that he may die in peace.” “Even j
jto thee, Ben Muza, will a prayer be de
nied,” said the king, “yet the Nazarinc
may live till sunset.” The prisoner
bowed, and the divan adjourned.
V.
Juan de Cabra sat in liis prison, bis
heart was sad, he thought of his home,
he thought of Zuleika ; but he thought
more of the ignoble fate that awaited
him, yet he could die without a murmur,
if he could press Zuleika to his bosom
before he died. As he sat brociding over
his unhappy doom, the door of his prison
opened and the noble Ben Muza stood
before him. “Nazarine,” said the war
rior, “I have seen thee in the battle-field j
when our charging host have dashed
amain. I know that thou art brave and
thy soul grieves to die by the hand of
the African. Yet thy late is fixed ; Bo
abdil. who is ruled by the council of the
santon is not to be moved. If I can
serve thee in aught, my heart is willing.
It is not thus the brave should die.”—
WASHINGTONIAN
TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE.
l|
Jj We, whose name* are herennto an
nexed, desirous of forming a Sociitv fuf
our mutual benefit., and to guard against
a pernicious practice, which is injurious
to our health, standing and families, do
: pledge ourselves as Gentlemen, not to
drink any Spirituals or Malt Liquors,
: lVinc or Cider.
[No. 34
1 hanks, noble Ben Muza,” said Juan,
“thou art like myself a soldier, and to
die on the battle-field would be glory. I
have no boon to crave that thou canst
! grant, save that I might sec Zuleika once
! more before I die.” “ Dost thou love
Zuleika, Naznrine?” said Ben Muza.
“ Dost the dove love its mate?” answer*
od Juan. “Thou shalt see her,” said
the Moslem, and he departed. A heavy
and weary hour had rolled away with
Juan, when a neatly attired young page
with a silver sheathed atagan hanging at
his side showed the signet ring to the
guard, who looked at him stispcciously
and then let him enter, and in a moment
Zuleika was locked in Juan’s arms.—
All! how had the sky of their fortunes
changed since hist they met; it was
clouded forever. They had but few
words for tears took the place of speech,
and it was not until they’ were to sepa
rate that they felt that bitterest of hu
| man pangs, the parting of lovers forever ;
| yet lie looked nobler in her eyes, at that
| hour of death, than she had ever beheld
him in his happiest days.
VI.
The last rays of the setting sun were
lingering on the towers of Granada, and
they cast a melancholy gleam upon the
palace of the Aliencerrages. When the
young, the brave Juan de Cabra was ltd
forth to meet his fate, he stood beside
the African with calmness awaiting his
doom, and never did Naznrine or Mos
lem behold so brave a front presented to
the monster of the grave ; his dark hair
parted over his forehend and flowed in
rich prolusion upon his neck ; his dark
flashing eye was bent upon the peifidious
snnton, who stood paces from him }
and when the to arrange the
bowstring he sprang, like a tiger, upon
the wretch and buried his stiletto to the
hilt in his breast, nndthesanton rolled
down upon the earth a bleeding corpse*
A hurst of execration went up from the
crowd. The African threw the chord
upon the neck of Juan and gave a short
quick jerk ; there was a convulsior.—a
gasp, and the soul of the Naznrine fled
to the land of spirits. There was a
beautiful page stood by the side of Ben
Muza, looking with weeping eyes upon
the scene, and when the African unloosed
the chord, and laid Juan on the ground a
stiffening corpse, there went up from his
lips a heart-piercing shriek, and then his
form
“ Fell to the earth like a stone,
Or statute from its base o’erthrotvn.”
And the noble-hearted, brave Muza shed
tears quick and free upon the inanimate
form of the still lovely and beautiful Zu
leika, who lay dead at his feet.
Matrimony. —Don’t he in a hurry to
“pop the question,” young gentlemen.
A friend of ours courted a lady for
twenty-eight years, and then married
her. She turned to be a perfect virago,
hut died in less than two years after her
wedding. “Now.” said our friend, in a
self congratulating tone, “see what I es
caped from a long courtship.”— Noah.
Noali is an old fool, and don’t know
what he is talking about. His friend
kept his “gall” in suspense, lingering
along in that hope which “ maketli the
heart sick,” and after having soured tho
milk of human kindness in her heart,
and made her a shrew by twenty-eight
years’ tantalizing, he married her, and
then quarrelled because the tender fresh
ness of ripe youth was gone ! What a
stupid blockhead. If you feel a hank
ering after a tender morsel of humanity,
just set aside a reasonable time for the
glorious and ecstatic bliss of courting—
say from three weeks to six months—and
then marry her, while her young heart is
full pulsed with love, and her soul mould
ed itself to your thoughts like virgin
wax. Wait twentv-eight years! Fid*
dle-de-nonsense! Noah is an ass—-so
he is.— Corporal Streeter.
An Irish paper mentioning the wreck
of a vessel, near Sherries, rejoices that
‘all the crew were saved except feto
hogsheads of tobacco,’