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