; 7 -&g m tlj- ‘to ell*. © cotgiaw,
YOUNGBLOOD & ALLEN,toorietors. !
I, Published every Thursday Morning, in Ike new Town of
Oglethorpe, Macon County, Ga„
CHARLES B. YOUNGBLOOD,
EGBERT \T. ALLEN, TRAVELING AeENT.
TERMS—S 9 Per Pear in advance
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
One Dollar per aqu&re (of 12 lines or lex) for the first
asertion, and Fifty 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.
BY F. J. OTTERSON.
“ Liberty and Union now and forever, one
(Copied from the Fort Gains ‘Southern Enterprise.’)
Storm-lost and strained our Ship of State
Was laboring in the gale,
The blasting breath of brother's hato
Was shivering every sail, —
Despair upon her quaking crew
Was tracking out her doom,
And o’er their blanching faces tlnew
The pallor of the tomb !
Our an sinus eyes along her deck
A pilot sought in vain,—
Disunion shrieks above the wreack
We feared would strew the main;
The last fund Hope had nearly died
In every Patriot’s bieast,
When rose the Pilot, true and tried—
Our Harry of the West!
Forth hurst from every honest tongue
A thunder drowning cheer, —
High o’er the raging storm it ilung
Defiance to our fes*r;
The Stars and stripes as brightly beamed
Their lusture as of yore.
And ‘mid the baffled lightnings streamed
The Union at the fore 1
Through all the old ship’s timbers ran
The pulsing tin ills of life;
She knew the firm hand of the Man
Who always ruled the strife;
And, hounding at his magic work,
She spurned the rocks a-lee,
While through the swelling canvass stirred
The breeze of Liberty !
Though dark the sky, and rough the wave,
Iler perils she forgets,— f
She sees above her threatened grave
The ‘Star that never sets;”
And not the fiercest storm can xvrecd,
Or wildest wave o’whelrn—
Who ever treads her quarter deck—
If Harry's at the helm !
The brave old ship God bless her !
Come freemen, pledge me this—
Boili North and South possess her—
, The Union as she is !* ,
Whatever bo-** “ ‘
WboWW the 1
WejjT Breaitiw*^j' ril( jn down
‘Tfyueaf en we never will!
The Rich Man.
BY J. W. WHITFIELD.
The Rich Man thinks his gold his own,
And all his gold can bring;
The rich man thinks, when thus he thinks,
Avery foolish thing.
He builds a palace, beautiful;
The graceful columns rise,
And while he thinks them all his own,
They glad a thousand eyes.
He spreads his floral garden round—
The roses bud and bloom;
But with himself we all enjoy
Their beauty dnd perfume.
His noble charged paw and prance—
The Rich Man’s ;heart is proud;
Hs sees them with one pair, of eyes,
But thousands hive the crowd.
His parlor walls are loaded down
Wjjh gems of aq— to please
he thinks—to please, in truth,
The poorest man that sees.
The’stately hall, the cultured grove—
The park with pebbled way—
The leaping font that sweetly sings,
For these he haMo pay.
And pay that other eyes may gaze
And feast without a care;
The joy Is ours—the task his own
To please them and prepaie.
Brooklyn April, 1851.
J have great averspsw/toauburn locks
ai the criminal said Wlien he look a cell in j
the Auburn prjjon. f
A Singular Coincidence.
Thomas Tom pWn3was|g confirmed
old bachelor and had reached"*)* mature
age of forty, without the
of what is termed ‘bettering his coridi*
lion,’ He watt very sly of womankind, j
and imagined that every lady who glanc* 1
ed at him casually, had designs upon his
purse and person.
it was this gentleman, a quiet, digni
fied, portly, and bald-headed
personage, who got into the mail stage
at Washington, one pleasant summer
morning, to travel to Baltimore, having
business in a small village a little beyond.
Among his traveling companions was a
wild young reefer, under orders to join
the flag-ship of the Mediterranean squad
ron, and a middle aged Englishman, not
the best tempered nor the best mannered
person in the world. To set his two sen
iors by the ears together was the especial
business of the middy, who was as mis
chievous as a monkey, and so succeasful
was he in his operations that he not only
succeeded in embroiling the pepperv
John Bull and the quiet bacheloi, but he
started up a ‘point of honor’ between
them, and when Tompkins went to bed
at Baltimore at night, it was with the
comfortable assurance that he was to
stand up and be shot at, at Blandensburg
the nest morning at sunrise, precisely, the
middy ‘seeing fair* between the parlies.
Just |above the spot where Gen. Ross
fell, the parties met, a little after five.
The midshipman loaded the pistols ami
placed his men. Both were rather shaky
on their legs, the Englishman’s indigna
tion having evaporated over night, and
Tompkins never having been troubled
with any excess of belligerent spirits.
Bang! bang! went the pistols. When
the smoke cleared, Tompkins was seen
standing, the Englishman lay rolling and
writhing on the ground, blood flowing
from his forehead.
‘You’ve done for him,’ said the middy,
addressing the horror stricken Tomp
The dying man beckoned his adversa
ry to approach, ‘it’s half my owu r auh,’
said he. ‘FIv! fly! and leave me alone
to die. Yet take this letter. Summer
ville—vile ’ouse top of the ’ll—hold, Dr.
Blodget’s—take ’im this letter it tells all
about it. If I’d ’ave lived l vas to “ave
But he could speake no more and the
midshipman hurried oft* the Ijotnicide.
From the incoherent words, of his victim
the horror stricken, Totupkinsgathered
that he was to call at Dr. Blodgef s, in
Summerville, and deliver the letter; and
thitherward bent his steps, in as pitiable
condition as the dying man.
He soon fonnd the cottage, a pretty
residence, embowered in trees and orna
mented with several distinguished darkies
who were standing round the door-yard,
grinning to the extent of their respective
ivories. Before he had time to ring the
bell, an impulsive old gentleman in black
rushed out. Tompkins mechanica|ly ex
tended the letter, not having courage
enough at his command to utter a word
‘I see—J see,’ said the impulsive little
old gentleman who was no other than Dr.
Blodget himself. ‘Tompkins, eh! give
me your hand.
‘Forbear there’s blood upon it!’ said the
‘Blood! nonsense!’ said the Doctor.
‘Come along; my daughter’s waiting, and
so are the bridesmaid and parson, you
■But sir, what has this to do with me?’
‘With you! why, isn’tyour name Thos.
‘So this letter says. Do you pretend
that you havn’t come to fulfill the ar
rangement made by your father to marry
my daughter, whom you havn’t seen since
you and she were boy and girl? Come
along—are you crazy?’
‘I believe I am,’ stammered poor
Tompkins, who was astonished at every
thing he heard, ‘i believe lam crazy.’
‘Tommy!’ said the old gentleman,
sternly, ‘/believe you have been stopp
ing at the hall-way house.’
‘Not a drop, Doctor, as 1 live.’
‘Come along, then,
And the Doctor hurried in his victim.
He was soon in the presence of the bride
and her relations. There were flowers
in porcelain vases, cake and wine upon
the table, and music in the hall. Miss
| Emma Blodget opened her arms, and the
I Doctor pushed Tommy into them.
OGLETHORPE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 3, 1851.
As soon as he could extricate himself
which he did, Blushing with confusion,
Tompkins stammered out, ‘Ladies and
gentlemen, you see before you an unltap
, py wretch.’
fc ‘An unhappy wretch!’ shouted the lits
Me Doctor; ‘What do you mean by that
T-Wtour son-in-law is dead!’ said Tomp
the Doctor. ‘You tell
me that with(j|pur own mouth?’
‘Yon don’t lawk as if you were dead,
though,’ said winking at the
clergyman. ‘Cornell r. Spintext, let’s
nave it over. Ernma-ajgXpmmy—stand
up here, like good children?>
Tompkins darted one wild
him, and then darted through the open
window into the concervatory.’
‘Stop him!’ shouted the Doctor. ‘There
tro my camelias and rhododendrons!
Now he’s into the Hamburgs! Now,
then, Sambo. Alt! you’ve got him.
Hold him tight.’
The wretched Tompkins was captured
and brought back by a tall African.
‘Now, then, Mr. Spintext—Emma,
hold him tight—know all men by these
presents, iic.—quick, sir—you solemnly
And thtis prompted, the clergyman
performed his office, and 1 homas Tomp
kins fownd himself a married man.
‘7 wish he muttered to himseif as he
dipped wildly into the cake and Madeira,
‘that the confectioner and wine merchant
had a spite against the Doctor, and had
come the arsenic and aquafortis business
strong. If I could only drop down dead
now, it would be extremely soothing to
In his desperation he acted and spoke
as if he were in a dream. He saiq funny
things without inteuding them,-kissed the
bridesmaid several times over, slapped
Dr. Blodget on the hark, and called him
a ‘jolly old buffer,’ and once even addres
sed the black waiter as ‘Snowball,’ an ex*
quisite and original pleasantry which con
vulsed tlie,gorjjpany with laughter.
But the wildest dream must have an
ends In the midst of the maddest mirth,
a double knock was heard at the door,
and a servant announced Mr. Thomas
‘This another of your jokes, you mad
wag,’ said the Doctor, winking at his
son-in-law; and a very small bridesmaid
in blue slippers gve it as her opinion
that Tompkins would be the death of
But the door opened, and in stalked
the Englishman, followed by his second.
.Take him away!’ yelled our hero.—
‘Bury him decently. Thai’s what he’s
after. Give him a sexton and let him go
about his business. We want no post
‘Don’t he alarmed,’ said the midship
man. ‘Blank cartridges and bullocks’
blood don’t send men to the other world.’
fDoctor,’ said the Englishman, ‘you re
ceived my letter of introduction from the
’ands of this—this person—did you
‘Yes—and I thought it was Thomas
Tompkins,’ said the distracted Doctor.
‘That is my name,’ said the bridegroom
in spite of himself.
“And miue halso,,’ said the English
“What’s to be done ?’ asked the Doc
tor. “Emma, my dear, what do you say
to being married over again?’
‘Oh! no, papa! it’s too much trouble;
I’m very well satisfied,’ said the bride.
‘1 don’t see that we can do anything
for you,’ said the Doctor, mildly, to the
new comer, ‘unless one of these young
But they nil shrugged their shoulders
and shook their heads.
•Sorry for you, for you’re the son of
an old friend’ said the Doctor.
‘But you’ll stay and take dinner with
•i’ll me you for a breach of promise,
vlled the cot-j|ey, shaking his fist at the
‘That lady is under my protection,’
said tha bridegroom- ‘She shall not be
insulted. Clear out.’
‘Clear out!’ shouted the indignant fath
‘Clear out!’ echoed all the gentlemen.
‘it is a conspiracy,’ shouted the cock*
‘Come along,’ said the midshipman.
‘Dont make a fool of yourself. Come
OUR COU NTRY'S GOOD 18 OVRS.
Pulled, pushed and shoved, the indig
nant gentleman was ejected from the Doc
tor’s cottage; and the feat accomplished,
die wedding company sat down to dinner,
at which the singular coincidence in the
names of the parties formed a principal
topic of the discussion.
The result of this odd affair was a suit
brought by the cockney; hut he lost his
rase, and went home to England in the
full determination to write a honk against
this country which should out-trollope
Written for the N. Y. Weekly Sun.
“There are as many Fortunes to be
made there ever were.”
BY ROSWELL ALLEN.
f?j%jAboui fifteen years ago a rouple of
young men, after the business of the day
was over, pot on their coats, and,
went to their boarding house to lea.
They were bpok binders, and expert,
competent workmen, /ntelligent, ups
right, industrious, and temperate, they
were well suited to each other, and with
habits of economy which kept them from
squandering their surplus earnings in the
amusements and vices which sink so large
an amount of workingmen’s capital every
year in this city; each had accumulated
a considerable sum which drew interest in
the Chambers street Savings Bank.
After tea Robert proposed to his friend
that they should take a walk, and putting
on their hats they were soon strolling up
Hudson street and lured until they reach
ed the Parade Ground, where they sat
down upon one of the benches to enjoy
the sheltering shades of the trees which a
dorn the squre. The advantages of the
rich, the lot of the working-man, and the
troubles of the poor, were talked over as
they looked over at the large mansions
which face towards the square. The nd
envy mingled in their conversation; they
did not complain of their lot, and give ut
terance to the follies of which many are
guilty, who fancy that fortune are always
obtained by oppression and wrong from
the sweat of the laborer. They knew that
some of the men who reside in those houses
had started in the world single-handed,
and had been the architectsh of thiernwn
fortunes, and that world was as open to
one as to another.
‘But,’ said Harry, ‘the times were bet
ter then than now, for a man to make a
fortune. Circumstances were very much
in a man’s favor. The city was small.—
Properly could be had for a low price,
which by the mere growth of the city has
greatly increased in value, and this way
many of the present fortunes have been
> ‘ Fhat’s nothing said Robert.’ ‘There
’ are as man fortunes to be made as there
i ever were, and I mean to have mine!’
‘Well raid Bob, but how are you go.
• ing to get it?’
’ ‘The way other men do, that start for
themselves. lam not always going to
’ work for another man.,
,A re you going into business ?’asked
‘I expect I shall when I see a good
chance. But I shant be in too big a hur
ry. Rome wasn’t built in a day.’
’Sure enough, Bob; but perhaps if
Rome had not been started just when it
was, it might not have been built at all.’
’Perhaps so, and perhas if it had not
been started when it was, some other
builder would have done it on better
ground or guided by beter principles.
At any rat®, I shall be on the look out,
and try my fortune a* well as the rest of
them. I shall keep on trying till I get
•Bravo! bravo! Bob! If you keep
up your courage you may do something
—but you are 100 sanguine.*
‘We must all be sanguine enough to
have some hope. But 7 am not sanguine
in the sense you mean. When a ‘builder
lays the foundation of a house, he knows
(hat to finish it he mnst have materials,
skill, and labor, He is not sanguine be
cause he expects to have his house finish
ed in a given lime. And so 7 look at it.
A man who has a good foundation can
build a fortune almost as surely as a man
can build a house.’
‘Why, Bob, you make getting rich
quite an every day affiair. You would
do a service to the world just to let your
system he known.
‘I have no system but that which is
already known and followed by thou
The true foundation of a successful life is
virtue—by which I mean the strictest obe
dience to every moral law. You know
my principles well—and what is better,
you know my practice. Virtue, morali
ty, and religion are the only true founda
tion for life. Let a man build upon them
and if lie has common sense and prudence,
he need not fear of success.’
* Well, then, why don’t more men suc
‘Because they overshoot the mark.—
Their lives may be blameless, as fr as
morals are concerned, but they lack pru
dence, foresight, caution—or it they have
them they violate their commands. They
are in mo great a hurry. Patience, Har
ry; patience is a great thing in making
a lasting fortune. A house built in a
hurry will not stand as long as one built
as it should he. The limbers’will wrap,
the walls crack, the joints will break, and
it will be torn down long before icC-ould
be if built properly at first. Ju\
book which is properly boned will\ ,
last a dozen stuck together in a
will hardly hold together through one
‘True enough, Robert; but see how
many men fail who appear to be doing
•Thai’s the trouble, Harry ; they ap
pear to be doing well, and find out some
day, before they think of it, that , they
have been really plunging into dificnlty; I
know more than one m.an who has floated
along swimingly, until some trifling cir-
happened, which showed that
the case was just the opposite. Men are
too apt to court appearances rather then
to gel the substance which appearances
will afterwards adorn *
‘Well, what would you do, then ?’
‘Wait till I could begin right. The
foundation of life being laid, the struc
ture must be properly put together.—
Dont you know that there are many work
men who can bind a book well, or who
can lay wall well, who would be unfit to
become master-builders or master- bind
ers, because they have not the skill or the
practical judgement which is required to
manage the operations of others !’
‘1 have seen such,’ said Harry, with a
halfaverted glance, as though he surmi
sed there was a fitness in the allusion to
‘Well, then 7 shall wait until I have
acquired experience and knowledge in
my business as a journeyman —for an ap
prentice has not learned his trade be*
cause he is out of his time—and w ith (his
additional qualification, and the capital I
have saved, 1 shall start and go ahead.’
■Bill suppose you miss your figure?’
‘Tut that 1 Shan’t do, Harry; 1 will
not rim the risk of missing any figures.
I shall start according to my means; and
not go beyond them. As long as 7 keep
on dry land I can’t get into deep water.’
‘That is a good rule to work by, but see
how long it will take you to get a fortune !’
‘lt makes no matter how long. 1 have
to work frr a living any how, and it is better
to work on the safe side and be independent
in twenty or thirty years, than to push beyond
my depth and fail in five or ten with a load
of debt which must go unpaid or take ten
Years to wipe out.’
‘You’re in the rieht of it, Bob; if you only
have patience to go through with it. You
know my principles are much like your own,
in fact, that is why we have formed such a
friendship; but then you know I want to go
faster than you do,’
‘I know'ii, and that is the dnngerjyou have
to guard against. If you undertake busi
ness you will likely run into difficulty, unless
you exercise very great caution. It takes
a skillful captcin to steer a fast sailing
craft on a lee shore, or through a narrow
‘That’* true, Boh; and I have been think
ing that a judicious partner will be a desira
ble thing for me if I can go into business.’
‘To be candid Harry, I think you have
taken a right view of the mutter. With a
cnolheaded, sound man, you will be safe.—
As to your ability in the shop tliere is no
‘Very well, Bob; I’ll take you!’
‘Take me I wlmt do you mean 1’
‘Mean 1 Why I mean that we shall go in
to business together 1
‘Well, Harry; I am obliged to you for the
choice, but I am not ready yet.’
‘Oh ves, you are; we both have some
money, and we may as well start as you say,
I will agree to abide by your decisions in
the management of the business.’
‘Vety well, then; I am satisfied with you
if you will promise not to be too hotheaded.’
‘I promise that,’ said Harry.
‘How much money hnveyou ? asked Rob
The amount was given, Robert stated his.
Estimates were made of the cost of figures,
pteiscs, tools, dies, and a few bills of stuck
| TERMS: $2 in Advance.
—amounting to about what they had on
In one year more, said Robert; we shall
have several hundred dollars apiece saved
by close economy from this years work at
our shop. This with the interest of what we
have, will give us a cash capital to do busi
ness on. Then we will start.
‘But Bob; why wait so long. Say six
months, said Harry.
I think not. We shall start at a season of
the year when trade is good. We cannot
start now. It would not be safe. We shall
meantime be on the watch for a good loca
tion, and making calculations for business
and becoming better acquainted with prices
and markets. We must wait.
Harry saw that his friend was right. Arm
in-arm they returned home, filled with their
proposed plans. Harry occasionally renewed
his arguments for an early commencement,
but Robert overcame them by his sounder
and better reasoning.
Nearly a year had passed, when a newly
painted sign placed over a door in -■ —■ ■
street announced that & , were
prepared to receive orders for book-binding.
The names of these two young men had be
come known in the trade, as well as among
their friends for their workmanship, and
their industry and integrity, and it was not
long before an extensive publisher was in
duced to give them a large and handsome
job. It was done to entire
Promptly executed, and turned out of||}iop
in wurkmanlike manner, they soon rwlgfcived
an other order, and jULtbe work wns exam
gxpod by another lique>e, they were recommen
ded to give the new binders a trial.; work thus
accumulated, and at the end of the year they
found that their profits amounted to a consid*
etablesum. As business increased they ex
tended their opetatioul, and by strict atten
tion, they gradually reached an influen
tial position in the tiade. Harry occasion
ally displayed an anxiety to trade fasttr
than prudence would nlow ! but with a
virtuous confidence in his friend Robert,
lie made it a rule after an earnest argument
on his side, to abide by his decision.—
Robeit’s caution kept the business from un
safe speculator, or 100 hasty strides, into
what lie called deep watci; and the concern
is new the honorable and well known estab
ment of & , the parteners in which
are on the tax list for over $30,000 each.
Robert says occasionally, as lie talks fa,
miliarly to his own woikmen, There are at
many fortunes to be made as there ever
were—l am going to have mine! Harry
lauglus, and thoughtfully puts his hands in
pockets, asthougli be carried his own about
Most Amusing Scene—A few weeks
since while court was sitting at Paris, in
Littnar county Texas, and while the tav
ern of Mr. Tucker was filled with lawyers
litigants, witnesses, &ic, a robery was
committed upon the premises, attended
with mnst ludicrous circumstances. Mr.
Tucker and his numerous guests retired
to their beds at the usual hour, and after
a night of profound and undisturbed slum
ber awoke, every mother’s son of them
coatless and pantaloonless—some daring
thief hud abstracted and carried off every
rag of clothing belonging to every soul
in the house. The Bonham Advertiser
intimates that when the fact was known,
and the thing understood, a series of la*
bleaux vivants, of the most ludicrously
interesting nature, were offered by the
garmentless lodgers, the sufferers ihem
selvs lauging lung and heartily at the
ridiculous figurs each other cut while shy*
ing and dohging about in serch of their
missing clothing. It was not long, how*
ever, before the missing garments were
found stacked in the public square, whith
er the burglar had carried them ;and now
came the serious feature of the business
—every pocket had been rummaged, eve*
ry red cent taken, all were emty. Sev
eral emigrants had Install thir money, and
the lawyers attending the court were re
duced to a par with the clients who had
the day before lined their pockets tor
them. Some four hundred and odd dol
lars was the neat profit of that particular
night’s work to the enterprising projector,
who got entirely off undetected.—Pica
A Good Trick. — ‘My son,’ laid a
father, ‘take that jug, and fetch me some
‘Givg me the money, then, father.’
i ‘My son, to get beer with money, any
body run do that, but to get beer without
i money, that's a trick. So the boy takes
’ the jug, and out he goes. Shortly, he
1 returns, and places the jug before his fatha
! ‘Drink,’ said the son,
‘How can J drink,’ says the father,
‘when there is no beer in the jug?’—-
‘To drink beer out of a jug’ says the
, boy, ‘w here there it beer, anybody can
, do that; but to drink beer out of a jug
i where there is uobcer, that’s a trick!’