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The South-west Georgian. (Oglethorpe, Ga.) 1851-18??, June 19, 1851, Image 1

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-A Jlfjc Sfttttli-wcst ®£orgiftt! YOUNGBLOOD & ALLEN, Propfct*rs. i VOL. I. sis’! s-WAPisy:c^a.ssr ItPublished every Thursday Morning, in the new Town of Oglethorpe, •tfaron County.Ga„ CHARLES B. YOUNGBLOOD, Publisher. EGBERT W. ALLEN, TRAVELING AgENT. TER&IS~S9 Per Year in advance RATES OF ADVERTISING. On* Dollar p*r square (of 12 lines or less) for the first Esertion, and r iflv Cents for each insertion thereafter. A liberal deduction will be made to those who adver tise by the year. Advertisements not specified as to time, will be pub lished till ordered out and charged accordingly. All Letters on business must be addressed to the Publish t. Post Paid, in order to secure attention. NATURE’S NOBIUTYr DY THE REV. OERRGE ASMNWALL. Room fora nobleman to pass! In costly robes T in trappings gay ? A fop sticked up befor the glass ? No ! clad in sober gray, A nobleman in heat t is he, With mind for his nobility. His crest, a soul in virtue strong, Ilis arms, a heart with candor bright; Which gold bribes not to what is wrong, Nor blinds to what is right, The patent of his courtly race— Behold it in his open face. He cringes not on those above. Nor tramples on the worm below; Misfortune cannot cool his love, Or flattery make it glow : Staunch to his friends in wo or weal, As is the magnet to the steel. He envies not the dopes! sage; He scoffs not at the meanest wight; And all tho war that he doth wage Is in the cause of right; For broad estate and waving land, He has the poor mans’ willing hand. He is not rich, and vet indeed His wealth, not poor, has stock tho’ small; Not rich, lie gives so much to need; Nor poor, for on him fall finch blessings from relieved distress, To crown his path with happiness. Room for a lord, ye truckling crew, Who round earth’s great ones fawn and whine: n. lord, at least in mind— That bravest work in nature’s plan, An upright, independent man. THE HUMBUGGED HUSBAND. She’s not what Fancy painted her— I’m sadly taken in— If someone else had won her, Should not have cared a pin; I thought that site was mild and good, As maidon ere could be ; I wonder how she ever could Have so much humbugged me; They clustee/ ty Ipurd, „ Tl 'ey.fee jUS&tdw \ < ot understand, I know the best; Thev call her fairest of the fair. They drive me tnad and madder ; What do they mean ! I do declare I only wish they iiad her. * Tis true, she has lovely locks, That on her shoulders fall What would they say to see tho box In which she keeps them all ! Her taper fingers, it is true, Are difficult to match— What would they sap if they but knew, How terribly they scratch 1 Horrible dream. —We once heard a very laughable joke which a hen perketl husband got upon Mrs. Candle. He had borne her railing for many long year, till one morning while she was blustering ■way about the wood, short potatoes, flour &c., he remarked very pathetical ly— ‘Jerush, 7 had a dream last night, a very queer one, and it gives me some uneasiness. I dreamed that I was taken tick and died.’ ‘Weil, if it was no more than that,’said Jerush, ‘I wish it had been more than a dream.’ Bat that is not all,’ said the husband, •J went to hell; and when 7 got there 7 of one of the imps for the old devil himself, and was shown mto his presence. The old fellow recognized me at once, and said lie, have you come to stay? 1 told him l had. ‘Well, I can’t have you here,’ said he, for if you stay, when Jerush dies, she’ll come, and hell will be in an uproar all the time. Soon after the completion of the nar rative of the dream, theris “came a shower of culinary utensils absrfut the poor fellow’s bead, which obliggjnim to seek quarters elsewhere, till Jni wrath had subsided. T / r < The Fat drJ^toMD, OR HOW TO DO UP SOM&HM BUL7S.M. BY M. OF C. I was just twelv” years of age, and the most unequalled rogue for mischief that ‘ old Kentucky’could produce. It was at th:s lime that I was sent to a country hoarding choi>|, some thirty miles from my birth place, Louisville—and an agreeable school it was, for it had but two depart ments, and they simply consisted of male and female. Our tutor and tutoress were the kindest souls in Christendom, and never inflirted a heavier punishment than that of sending the guilty one to bed sup perless, or depriving him or her the priv ilege of the recess. Then there could be no wonder in our imposing upon such good nature—but for my adventure. There was only a door (that of course, locked) that separated the dormitory of the boys and girls; but the kind builder had not omitted to place a ventilator over this door, and, as luck would have it, the good mistress had covered it with a small green baize curtain upon our side. Af ter enjoying a fine dance upon the green, and that, too, under the prettiest moon light that ever shown, we were assembled in the chapel to prayer, and then sent to our separate dormitories—the girls, some fifteen in number, taking on flight of stairs, while we, eighteen or twenty of the greatest scamps alive, took the oppo site flight—onr master and mistress re turning to their own room. A few mo ments found all in bed, and strange to say, perfectly quiet. We had lain so hut a short time, when we heard a sudden creak, like a bedstead put a violent agi tation, and this was followed by a sup pressed but general titter. * By golly, boys, there’s fun among the gals,’ I exclaimed, * and here’s what’s going to have a peep at ’em.’ In a moment every bed showed a sit ting figure. I hounded out, and running softly to the keyhole—but the angels stuf fed it with a rag, at that was no go. ‘ Nevei mind, boys—easy now, and I’ll give you all a sight.’ ; I softly drew a table and a gainst the door, and with the greatest dif ficulty stood a chair upon it—for the ta ble being small, the chair mad* most too great a stride for it. However', I mount ed, and raising one corner of the curtain, the whole scene was visible to me. The girls had placed two beds, some six or eight feet apart, and laid a feather bed on the floor between them, and they were then exercising themselves by jumps ing from one bed to the other. There was one very fat girl, about as broad as she was long, and in no wav calculated for physical exertions 1 hut she had got upon the bed, and stood swingi<ir her arms to and fro, making every indication for a desperate jumg. Bv this time I was on the floor, and my place at the curtain supplied b v another sprig of mi-chief.— He leaned down and whispered—the fat girl was going to jump. ‘ Oh golly !’ said he, • if Pan only falls, won’t she roll over nice ?’ I was determined to see this; and climbing up again, we both occupied the ‘ tottering pile.’ With one hand over onr mouths, and pinching our noses to pre* vent a b rst of laughter, we stood breath less, awaiting the ‘ awful calamity.’ ‘ There she goes, by jingo !’ I exrlaim* ed. She did’nt do it though—for tier feet just resting on the round of the bed, she balanced hut for a moment and fell backwards, head down and leelin the air, rolling and puffing like a porpoise, but displaying no mean agility for such an embarrassing situation. We could hold in no longer, but shook with laughter. The chair tilted, and down all came together, with a crash like a young peal of thunder. ‘ To bed—to bed, boys,’ 7 said ‘ and leave the rest to me.’ In an instant all was quiet; every boy io bed and sound asleep, with the excep tion of myself. Oh! such attempts to snore as might have been then heard— but we were all used to playing the pos sum, and I now concluded to give the ap proaching tutor and wife a sample of somnambulism. ‘ Now don’t laugh for the world, boys, and see me do the thing.’ I raised the table on its legs, and get ting on it, was concluding my sppeeb that 7 had written and committed to memory for the day—and here the trainers of young ideas entered, but still I continu ed — s OGLETHORPE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JUNE 19, 1851. ‘ Friends and fellow students : Over whelmed as l am with gratitude for your kind attention, l cannot refrain from ex pressing thanks, yes warm and heartfelt Blanks ; and to you, dear sif,’ (this of Btey’se meant the tutor, and at tins point HHncant staring eyes were upon him,) §JR|Btoy heart yearn. I look upon tin moment §)f my life with a pride that swells my you unbosom almost to bursting ; ami when manli&d shall call me to her halls of legislation, tfegre will’/ exercise every truth and virtue Justified into mv heart by your kind and fatherly tutoring.— These boyish tear* of joy will yet swell to a gushing stream of ambition's glory —and then will l look hack ioAhpse days, and with von uppermost in my thoughts, and exclaim, ‘ ’Twas von, yes, you sir— that made me what 7 am/’ ‘ Bravo ! bravo ! my boy,’ they hoh exclaimed. 7 got off the table now, seeing I had the game in my own hands; and walk.- ing slowly up to the window, gave mvself up to deep sobbings, and really appeared much affected. The tutor approached me and called me slowly by name, but I answered not ; and turning slowly from him, I walked to the other side of the room, avoiding the rays of the lamp which the mistress was directing upon me. ‘ He is asleip, my dear,’ exclaimed the tutor; ‘and it most have been the drag ging of the floor which made such >i rum.- hling nose. Give me the lamp, and go bring me a basin of water —l will effect a lasting cure upon our young somnam bulist.’ I heard many suppressed titters, and could see sundry corners of sheets going into sunjj drv mouths. This nearly destrovefljwv equi librium ; hut l mastered myself, and again went to the window, though the mention of the basin of a momentary shud der to shoot through my whole frame. The good dflL returned with what ! mag nified into an*nncominonly large vessel of water; but ,it was no delusion—for in her haslei she thought the ‘ fillerer,’ and I knew certain it was a cold ducking I was going to have. Could l escape it t I would try.— I walked first to one bed, then another -the tutor following with the filterer, his wife playing ‘ torch-bearer,’ while tho heavy breathing of the possitmiog sleepers added to the solemnity of the scene. I still walked on, turning away every time he proposed to douse me. They had completely cut off the retreat to my own bed, and 1 saw at once I should have to take it. 1 walked boldly, and placing myself before him, upset the con tents of the jug upon me. I gasped, caught mv breath, tottered, and played the frightened boy so well, the de ception was complete. I heard a merry laugh in the girls room—mv srhoolniates on their heds rubbing their eyes and enquiring the matter. ‘ Where am ll’ I asked ; • what awful thing has happened I Did I come near drowning V Then looking tip, mv eves encountered those of the mistress. I hong down mv head, crouching m v little form, for 1 was minus mv mustn’t-menfion’emn. She sympathized with me and left me in the care of the tutor, who afforded me every facility for drying mv drenched skill and changing mv robe dr. nute. I betook me once again to sleep. We were alone again : hut never did pass such a mer ry night—and till long after the old upright clock had told the midnight hour, did we close our eyes. Upon awaking next morning, I thought for the first time of the laugh I heard in the girls’ room ; and on going to the door through cu.. riositv, I found the rag was gone from the key hole.— Great l Vest Critical Position lor a Female, —Last evening, while Washington street wa all alive with pedestrains, just at twilight, a very genteelly dressed young woman was seen dinging to the hind part of a buggy containing a male and female and which was driven ‘down street’ at a rapid rate, so fast that the woman op behind was actually dragged along. The scene was quite startling. Men and women stopped, and each eaeerly inquired the cause of what they beheld. Many ran to the rescue, and when the team was nearly to Dr'ck Square the hoise was stopped, to the apparent mortification of the driver. —The woman in the rear was removed from her critical position, al most exhausted, and the man with the team drove on, leaving hisownwife fain ting and utmost dead with strangers , arid taking along with him in the biucgy her own sister! A crowd soon flocked around ttie woman left behind, and heard from her the story of an unfaithful hus band.—Boston Commonvtealih. OUR COUNTRY'S GOOD IS OURS. How it s done at the Astor A LIQUuKARY SKETCH. BY FALCONBRIDGE. A small party of couutry merchants, traders, &c., were cruising around New York one evening, seeing the lions, and dteir cicerone—by tne way, “a native,” who knew what was what—took diem up Broadway, and as they passed the Astor House, says one of the strangers : “Smith, what's this thundering’ big house?” “Oh, an yes, this” says the cicerone. Smith, “this, boys, is a great tavern —tine place to get a drink.” “Well, be hooky, let’s go in.” In they all went; dunking a privata room or,,a small side parlor, the country gents requested Smith to do the talking, and or der in the Jlquor. Smith called lor a bill of fare, upon which are “invoiced” more “sorts,” and harder named wines and liq uors, than could becomniilied to memory in a week. “ That’s it,” says Smith, marking a hill of fare and handing it to a servant*, “that’s it—two bottles, bring ein up. Up came the wine: it was of course, elegant. The country gents froze to —they had never tasted such sluffbefore, in all their born days! “Look-a-here, mister,” says one of the business men, “got any more uv tiiat wine!” “Oh. yes, sir!” says the seivant. “Well, fetch it in” “Two bottles, sir?” ‘Two ganders! N<>. brim: in six bottles! 1 can go two on em mysell, says the country gent. The servant deliverd his message at the bar, and after a few grimaces and some whispering, the servant and one of the barkeepers, or clerks, carried up the wine. Says the clerks, whispering to— Smith, whom he slightly knew: “Smith, do you know the price of this wine?” “Certainly 7 do,” says Smith ; here it is invoiced on the catalogue, ain’t it?” ‘Oil, very well,’ says the clerk about to withdraw. ‘Hold on !’ says one of the merry coun try gents ’ don’t shake your htiidsniiie countenance off so quick ; do you want os to I'orke rite up for these?’ hauling out Ilis wallet. ‘No yer don’t,’ says another, hauling out his range. ‘Mv treat, if you please, boys,’ ihvs the third, pulling out a liadful of small change. ‘7 asked the party in and I pay for what liquor we drink—be thunder.’ 7n the midst of their enthusiasm. Tile clerk observed it was of'no importance just then—the bill would lie presented when they got through. This was satis factory, and toe party went on finishing their wine, smoking, Sze. ‘Sposp we have some real shampaign boys,’ *ays one of the gents, beginning to f-el his oats some. ‘Agreed,’ says the rest. Two bottles of the best ,shaai’ in ,the tavern’ were called for, and which the party drank with great tiii-to. ‘Now,’says one of them, ’let’s go to the theatre, or some place were there’s a *how goiii’on. Here yon mister—to the servant — go letch in the landlord.’ ‘The landlord, sur?’ says Pat the ser vant, in some doubt as to the meaning of the phrase. ‘Ay, landlord —or that chap that was in here just now, tell him to fetch in the bill. All, here you are old feller; well what’s the damages?’ask die gent, so ambitious in putting the party through and hauling out a Inndfnf of keys, silver and coppers to do it with. Eight, bottles of flim-flam-di-rip-ram” pronouncing one of those fancy gamrioge titles, found upon an Astor House catas logue,’ ninety six dollars —’ Whai!’ gasped the country chap gath ering up Ilis small change, that lie had be gun to sort uul on the table. , And two bottles of’Schreider,’ and ci gars—seven dollars,’ coodily continued the bar clerk; ’ one hundred and three dollars.’ l A hundred and three and —’ ‘A HUNDRED A\D THREE DOLLARS I .’ cried the country gents in one breath, all slartiug to their feet and putting on their hats. ‘Theclerk explained, clear as mud the trio ‘spludged up’ the amount, looked very sober, and walked out. ‘Come, boys,’ said, Smith let’s go to 1 he theatre. / ‘Guess not,’ said ‘the boys;’ b’leve we’ll go home tor to night, Mr. S nidi.’ And they made for their lodgings. If these country gents were asked when they got home, any panic ulars about ‘the elephant,’ they’d prohaly hint something about getting a glimps ofliim at the A-- tor House:’ THE LEGACY OF A MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS. ‘ But let it he this hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet •spirit, which is in the sight of God of great pric e.’—lst Peter, 3.1 Chap. 4th verse. When you read this, my precious ones, your mother will be no more. The breast, (com which you drew that first nourishment, which flowed for vou so ten derly, and on which you could so surelv repose all your sorrows, will be cold.— Alt ! will you in this world ever find a g-'in one so tender, so pure, so longlov ing? You were mv dearest in this world —to -ee you good and happy was my most earnest wish, my greatest comfort. God has heard my prayer. My eves have seen you good and happy, and in leaving the world, / have the consolation of believing that thus you will continue to be. O ! lei my last word be engraved on your hearts. I have lived long iii < the iworld — have enjoyed mmuj|pbiusoi'ps, but I ran assure you lint J-nave only truly lived, since I began to feel happy in mv own home, Since I firmly promised to myself con scientiously io fulfil mv duties as a wife and mother, an to my family to be all of which I was capable, llow often ‘before, did / return from the most brilliant socie ty in bad humor! How mauv disorders arose during mv absence ! How many a good lias, during thy prolonged dissipa tions been deferred, and finally even o tnilted ! Vly husband, who remarked with joy this happy change in my conduct, be gan to find my society his.dearest pride, and pas-ed many an evening with me, that formerly without companv appeared so tedious. Our household, our chil dren were the favorite subject of onr con versation ; we remarked, anti from time to time ccfrrecied much that was formerly unobserved ; *ve found in our own do mestic circle, joys that before we could not have divined. What a substitute is the daily increasing esteem a-id love ol a noble husband ; for the admiration of simpletons ; what a siihstitue the attach ment of good children and the perception of their daily growth in liodv anti mind for all the pleasures of the great worltl ; what a substitute the society of cultivat ed, honorable and even toned persons, •or all stately visits and glittering circles! O ! my children, on the borders of the grave, I beseech you ! remain to this do mestic affection for which I have educat ed you—O 1 remain to this mother of all virtue true ! Have courage enough to live to your mvn hearts not always to the opinion of others but follow your own conscience; your value will be not in the lustre which surrounds yon, but in the bidden man of the heart,’for that seek, it is for that you exist. Mv second request is: ‘ Let a meek und quiet spirit in you abide.’ How un happy was / made formerly by rny ar dor, domineering spirit and impatience! bat a lingering ‘sickness brought me to reflection, mitigated my ardor, and my reform was completely by the sad exam ple of one of rny friends, who possessing every outward blessing, vet, by her stor my temperament made her married life most unhappy. * A meek and quiet spir it”—what a treasure is this, the cares ol the husband to relieve his passions to soothe, his fruits by love to vanquish and to cure; what a blessing to ourselves to be able, in all the misfortune of life, to sustain ourselves upright and by the en durance of them to ennoble them our selves; what ail attractive power has it for all who are around us ; all are en chained by it; the willingly approach us, they open llieir hearts to us, and invoke us for support and consolation. Not in vain God gave us ti e facility to feel with others and to comfort them ; not in vain the gift of tears and inventive tenderness all, even the most hidden cares to uncov* er, and worth a gentle hand to alleviate; not in vain the serene spirit, that ftiakes our house the abode of joy and a refuge for all of ours. 0 ! press deeply into your heart, these words of the Bible; — ‘ But let it be the hidden man of the heart in that which is noicorruptiblc,even tho j TERMS: $2 in Advance. ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, whii'li is in the sight of God of great ‘price.* Your love of home may be re* gifvded as want of good manners, your humanity am! sweetness as feebleness and experience, your amiable single hearted, ness, as foolish simplicity ; yet your in(e rior and hidden worth, your mild and modest spirit is precious before God. Ol how exalted it is, to be able to say: < I did what was in my power what felici ty the thought of God then giyes ! Un known, anti of the world despised is the sphere of women, but in the eyes of God, bow sacred, bow great! When you ill rough your motherly instructions and example, the nealable soul of your sons to tell, that they the strongest lempta* tions courageously overcome; their yield ing hearts so to tenderness attune, that hu man pity will accompany them through their whole lives; the feeling God and eternity so deep in their souls impress ; that they t ike root and bare most excel lent fruit. O! tny daughter, then when vou perhaps shall be no morp, the heart of the noble son wil still beat for the mother. The world enjoys your fruits without having known even your and eternal love glances benign%tJffy down ujion you. Dear, eternally dear to yon^ hearts gniny the even to lilia moment, the staff of my pro bity and the source of my piece and con solation. At the time I saw the most in nocent and warmest desire of my heart, which I had for a year cherished, at once crushed ; all my efforts to attain them were vain ; all sacrifices which [ had made for them, we lost. I sought a hand to help me, a heart to feel for me, a con soling look, and 1 found not even pity, but coldness, exultation at my misfor tunes. railery and contempt. But how tranquil became mv soul, w hen the con solation ol Jesis : ‘ No hair fulls from my head without the will of thy Father in Heaven ;’ when I looked upon the storm* y and troubled days of life, and upon tranquility and serenity of his heart, tip on his battles and upon his glorious vic tory ; when after his example I threw myself down in prayer belore, the lather of tiie world, and when the feeling 0 f his power and wisdom I forgot my own frail* try and short shightedness, in the feeling of his love mid fidelity forget the coldness and falsehood of man; then cried I. ‘Father, all my hopes leave me, every staff breaks, all ca / yield—-but nut thee—not eternity—not my own soul J. O! if mv spirit, in these sorrows tried, purer and nobler comes forth; if the’ thought on thee more dear becomes and more efficacious for all situations in life; if thou for the poor forsaken and discon solate bast in store a whole rich eternity full of joy and consolation ; for wltat am I disheartened ? Not my, but thy will he done.’ And when I imagined myself in that better* world, when I, elevated over time and grief, looked with a quiet heart upon all [ here sowed in tears, and with confidence of soul upon the harvest of joy to come ; how small to me then ap peared the earth with all it* disappoint ed hopes. O ! let this religion, which was the staffand the consolation of your mother, be :lso your staffand your consolation in life and in death. The times comes, when every scene of splendor shall disap pear from before you, your rye itself shall he darkened, your blooming color in death’s paleness shall be faded ; then shall the thought of that which you have been been to others, the night of death enligh ten ; your • interior man’ the desolation of the tomb outlive, and the pure, well meaning heart, the treasures of faith, live and the pure, well meaning heart, the treasures of faith, live and hope (hall ac company you in eternity. Curious Tree —A very curious pear tree is to be seen in the garden of a Mr. Green, Gowanns, within a block or two of the entrance to the Greenwood Gemetry. Half the tree is at present in full blossom, and the other halfmearly in leaf. Every alternate year each side blossoms and bears fruit. The bearing side this year will yield an abundant crop ol sweet truit.—The side thi| does not blossom this year, - will blossom and yield a good crop of sour fruiiHbe next year, and so on every alternate year. This has been the case since the tree first yield ed fruit. Altogether it is a great curios ity.—new-york paper A tatler is never out of trouble. NO JO