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Cbc oontb"tD(st tIUi fcarUMran ‘ YOUNGBLOOD & ALLEN, Projptes. j VOL. I. vms sffiTffwjsiowiiffl?? ©^©ai'&mssr UPMuktd every Thursday Morning, in the now Town qf O# Uthorpe, Jtiacon County,tSa„ CHARLES B. YOUNGBLOOD, Publisher. ■•BUT #. ALLEN, TRAVELING AgENT. TKBKS>*|9 J*r Hear in advance Bates of advertising. ©• Dollar per tquare (of IS line* or lest) for the first atrtion,ftnd Fifty Cents for each insertion thereafter. A liberal deduction will be made to those who adver by the year. Wwtllepwnu not specified as to time, will be pub lished till ordered out and charged accordingly. The Philosophy of Sport. BY C. NACKAY. Boar lightly on their foreheads, Time ! Strew rose* on their way, The young in heart, however old, That prize the present day, And, wiser than the pompous proud, Are wise enough to play. I love to see a man forget His blooJ is growing cold, And leap, or swim, or gather flowers, Oblivious of his gold, And mix with children in their sport, Nor think that he is old. I loro to see the man of care Take pleasure iu a toy; I love to see him row or ride, And tread the grass with joy. Or hunt the dying cricket ball As lusty as a boy. All sports that spare the humbles pain, That neither main or skill; That leads us to the quiet field, Or to the wholsome hill. Are duties which the pure ia heart Religiously fulfil. Though some may laugh that full grown men May frolic in the wood, Like children left adrift from school;— Not mind the scornful mood; — I honor human hippiness, And deem it a gratitude. And thought perchance the Cricketer Or Chinamen that flies Mis Dragon-knife with boys and girls, May seem to some unwise, I see no folly in their play. But sense that underlies. The road of life is hard enough Bestrewn with slag and thorn, . I would not mock the simplest joy That made in less forlon, But fill its evening path with flowers As fresh as those of morn. ’Tis something when the moon has pass’d To brave the touch of Time— And say, ‘Good friends, thou harm’st me not, My soul is in its prime— Thou canst not chill my warmth of heart, J carol whtittsf climb.” Give us but health and peace of mind, Wlm’er otirtlimeor clan, .gWe'll take in simple things, Nor deem that sports unman; — And let the proud, who fly not kites, Despise us il they can. „ The Reward of Gallantry. —Young Wiggins is one of the most gallant fel lows iu existence. There is nothing, we believe, which he would not do, in the way of politeness to the ladies, i have known him magnanimously strain his back in lifting fat ladies across muddy •treets, ami to make a common foot-stool, •tapping stone of himself for the accomo.. dation of girls climbing fences* But oc casionally his gallantry is illy rewarded. It was only a few days ago that Wiggins met with a cooler, which it’ll not soon forget. Promenading Washingion street with a fashionable acquaintance, bowing and smiling to the ladieY, and taking ad vantage,, of every opportunity to pick up fallen veills and restore Inst handker chiefs to llteir fair owners, hjs attention attracted by the silvery jingle of a shil ling, whk ‘ upon the pavement at his feet. Discovering the lady who hmjk dropped the coin, and anxioug.to exercise hie gallantry. Wiggins stooped graceful ly, and extended his fingers ior the sbil* ling, but before he could touch it, for ward darted the proprietor thereof, and •eized it directly beneath his nose! Fancy the feelings of the sensitive gallant, when the female, drawing herself up be* fore him to Iter full bight, .hook the shil ling at him with a look of triumph and defiance, and exclaimed— [ “Guess yer didn't quite come it—it:, ! ray shillin, and you can't have it you I can 1 *!” ___ Ks Conscience is the eyelid which God lias I placed over the eye of the soul, to guard its P holy eryatal from impurity. MARRYING A^jLTUNE. BY GEO. CANNING w Full half of mankind will ne i 4|fc>get thro’ searching up money-matches* for themselves until the other half has dqofc with holding the money. That is a fix ed fact, which no one attempts to call in j question. Tom Turnabout was one of the pen niless ones. Not that it was, by any means, the fault of his own, but it mere ly happened to be so, it was ‘ in hh stars’ to be poor. And what made the matter worse, besides being poor, perse , he was a poor barrister —a situation rendered by all odds exquisitely distressing ; for a hriefless barrister is always short of eve ry tiling, from soap to suits. Torn was, withal, an individual of more than ordinary personal attractions—so lar as the opinion of the majority ol the other sex went, and upon this opinion he early determined to found pretty much all his future. With his affable and ex cessive social manners, it would have been no wonder at all if he did not have to undergo many a pang in the measure ment of his living by his circumstances. At last, by one of those most fortunate of the dice of the chance of which we read or hear but rarely, Tom Turnabout was married, and to a lady of fortune.— It seemed to him as if the fortune was ac cumulated for his use and behoof alone. And on his wedding day no man was any where to be found, who could make show of a larger share of enjoyment in prospect. Matters went on well enough for a time —as well, perhaps, as ought to have been expected ; for the ‘ briefless barrister’ was now possesesd of a comfortable home and assured of an excellent living, togeth er with a young and pretty wife ; for Mrs. Euphrasia Turnabout, as every lady said 1 was a very pretty young woman. Her hair curled, her eyes were of a jet black, her hand was delicate and of a lilly white, and she knew how to dispense the most gracious and bewitching smiles ; how could she be otherwise than pretty l And if pretty likewise amiable ? At least, so thought for a time Tom Turnabout, Esq., who esteemed himself her liege lord and master. But there was one thing that seri ously troubled Tom, and that was, how to broach the subject of coining into due possession and management of his wife’s property. For this lie had married; — could it be that he was no better off now? The thought alone made him giddy. He went round and round the subject in his mind for a long time, at each rev olution becoming the more perplexed.— no single time dared he to nerve his cour age up to the effort necessary to be made in order to have the matter completely understood between them. Euphrasia had never attended to the subject of mon ey, simply going ahead and managing the household as if she had folly resolved to count at least one in its management and classification. Tom had repeatedly hinted to her about ‘ deposits,’ ‘ bank stocks,’ ‘ taxes,’ and all other minute ap purteaunces to the possession of a fortune, but hitherto to just no purpose at al| : she made neither revelation nor explana tion—least of all did she betray, her nas live acuteness by taking a hint. Such a state of affairs worrying Tom into such a fit of desperation, if not his grave, and lie finally made up his mind to cotne to an understanding, in some way or other, just as soon as practicable. Just as long as it was necessary to keep the embers of hope alive, he had sedul ously avoided all his former acquaintance, lest he might too suddenly give a shock to the delicate nerves of his wife, and to lose his chnnces altogether. But as soon as he fqund that disguise helped him not a whit, he screwed up his courage to ven luring a bold push that should settle all. He finally became a convert to the sen timent so epigraimnatically expressed by the poet: * He either fears his fate too much, Or bis deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all, Accordingly he laid himself out to bring matters to a head at once. ‘ Dick,’said he to a companion of hie, one afternoon, as they sat together in the little office at the latter. ‘ Dick, I’m in a quandary !’ ‘ A quaudary !* ‘ Yes.’ * About what ?’ 4 I want some money*’ OGLETHORPE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 17, 1851. ‘ You want money ! Why, how much did you marry, pray ?’ * More than I shall ever get, I fear.’ * Well that’s a good one ! But what’s the trouble ?’ L *Do you keep a secret ?’ asked in a •Whisper. MgfiTry me, and see.’ ‘{parried money, you know,’ * Everybody says so, you know,’ ‘ And every body thinks so but me ! There’s pkauy of money in the case, but unluckily Mar's none to be bad! 1 can’t lay bold of il!’ Ha! ha! ha! laughed Dick, in his face - • ‘ You laugh, but what would you do * What would 1 do ?’ v ‘Yes—what shall I do?’ 4 Nothing is easier,’ replied Dick. * I hope not,’ said Tom, ‘ but how shall I go to work !’ 1 Have you broached the subject to your better half ?’ ‘ Havu’l dared to ! she won.’l let me, in fact!’ 4 Then run up a bill or two.’ ‘ What ?’ asked Tom, earnestly. 1 Have it sent at such a lime to the house and be sure not to be at home.’ * 1 never thought of that.’ ‘ She’ll either pay il or blow,’ contin ued Dick. ‘ But what if the latter?’ 4 Then you’ve got at the core of your subject, and you can go ahead alter that as circumstances w ill best allow.’’ 4 I’ll try it—l’ll act on your happy suggestion !’ ‘True; what will you have? Shall we go into Carter’s and get one af his ni cest teams and take a drive out to Spike ville ?’ 4 You couldn’t have hit the nail more exactly on the head; let’s go at once!’ said Dick. **. ’“'* That was a* ‘fast’ afternoon—the re mainder of it-* and began anew era.— To be sure it was a step taken in the dark, but Tom hoped it would lead to happy results and plenty money. ( In due time the bills began to come in. One morning the door-bell rang, it chanced to be about nine o’clock. The servant answered the summons, and car ried a bill up stairs to her mistress. The bell rang again, and there came a second bill, A third time, arid another bill.— Mrs. Euphrasia Turnabout begun tc> grow alarmed. Presently came along the din ner hour. Il duly found Tom Turna bout, Esq., at home at the table. Ail during the meal he anxiously scan ned the features of his wife, trying his very best to imagine her as feeling ex tremely happy in enjoying the privilege ol paying her dear husband’s bills; but he succeeded in reading no such expres sion on Iter face he looked for the slight est trace of it in vain. It was too perplexing. There sat Eu phrasia., worth her fortune, over against him at the table—a mountain of gold, as it were, within his reach, but he was not able to pick off even a shiny scale from its surface. She was calm as a delicious cool, summer's morning, lie. on the other hand, was burning up with disappoint ment and chagrin. He declared within himself that he could stand it no longer. Ji was a few steps beyond human endurance. Better die at once, than live long in suspense. So at last he meekly remarked to his wife— 'Euphrasia was there anything brought here this morning for me ?’ 4 Yes, dear,* site replied, 4 there were three bills for horse-hire, and confection ary, refreshments, and one thing and an other; but did 1 not read them particu larly—you know that’s not my business.’ * Was there a bill for furniture too ?’— inquired the agitated Tom. 4 Yes dear, I paid that and lock a re ceipt; but the others, your personal mat ters, vau know, those I carefully placed in your escritoire, where you could read ily find them when you wish to. /hope you do not consider me too inquisitive in just looking at them to see what they were!’ Tom was not possessed of any too much philosophy, and this last serious sally of Ilfs wife quite upset what little he had.— Swallowing the dinner as fast as he could with safety do it, lie pushed as fast as he could for his office. Ere long his old friend Dick, made his appearance. 4 Well,’ said Dick, * how goei it— torn!’ OUR COUNTRY'S GOOD IS OURS. * it’s no go,’ surlily answered Torn. 4 How now ? Were the bills paid ?’ Tom explained the whole. His friends admitted that it would be exceedingly hard to get round a woman who understood herself so well as-did his wife, more particularly when she held the purse strings. Tom gave it up altogether. That af ternoon was spent in reflecting upon the extreme worthlessness of Itis dependence for an independent living living upon an. Other, and in forming a strong resolution to go ahead and do something (or him self. The lesson he learned chanched to be a most valuable one, which many a mar* ried wife may at leisure give Iter husband, ,io his decided advantage. Tom Turnabout, Esq., afterwards turned-out a very respectable member of bis profession ; enough so at any rate, to be able to earn sufficient to pay Itis car riage and oyster-house scores. At home he never knew what trouble meant. THE LOTTERY OF LIFE. An Incident of the Mexican Revolution. Sharpe’s Magazine for May contains a translation, from the 4 Revue des De ux Mondes,’ of several 4 Incidents in the War of Mexican Independence,’ from which we select the following thrilling scene. A captain in the insurgent army is giving an account of a mediated night attack upon a hacienda, situated in the Cordillera, and occupied by a large force of Spanish soldiers. After a variety of details, be continues: Having arrived at the hacienda unper ceived, thanks to the obscurity of a moon less uight, we came to a bait undvr some large trees, at some distance from the building, and / rode forward from my troops in order to reconnoitre the place. The hacienda, so far as I could see in gliding across the trees, formed a huge massive parallelogram, strengthened by enormous buttresses of hewn stone. A. long this chasm, the walls of the hacien da almost formed the continuation of an other perpendicular one, chiselled by na ture herself in the rocks, to the bottom of which the eye could not penetrate, for the mists which incessantly boiled up fiom below did not allow it to measure their aw ful depths. This place was known in the country by the name of 4 the Valade ro.’ 1 had explored all sides of the build ing except ibis, when I know not what scruple of military honor incited me to continue my ride along the ravine which protected the rear of the hacienda. Be tween the walls and the precipice there was a narrow pathway about six feet wide; by day, and the passage would not have been dangerous, but by night it was a perilous enterprise. The wall of the farm took an extensive sweep ; the path crept around tiieir entire basement; and to fol low it to end in the darkness, only two paces front the edge of a perpendicular chasm, was no very easy task even for as practiced a horseman as myself. Nev ertheless, I did not hesitate, but bold* ly urged my horse between the walls of the farm-house and the abyss of the Voladero. / had got over half the dis tance without accident, when all of a sud den horse neighed aloud. This neigh made me shudder. I had reached a pass where the ground ws but just wide e nuugh for the four legs of a horse, and it was impossible to retrace my steps. ‘Halloo!’ I exclaimed aloud, at the risk of betraying myselt—which was even less dangerous than encountering a horse man in front of me on such a road.— 4 There is a Christian passing along the ravine! Keep back.’ It was 100 late. At that moment, n man on horseback passed round one of the butteresses, which here and there ob structed this accursed pathway. He ad vanced towards me. I trembled in iny saddle; my forehead was bathed in a cold sweat. 4 For the love of God ! can you not return ?’ I exclaimed, terrified at the fear ful situation in which we both were pla ced. 4 Impossible !’ replied the horseman, in a hollow voice. 1 recommended my soul to God. To turn our horses looxe lor want of room, to back them along the path which we had traversed, or even to dismount front them these were three impossibilities which placed us in the presence of a fearful doom. Between two horsemen so pla ced upon this fearful path, had they been lather and son, one of them must inevita bly have become the prey of the abyss. Hut a few seconds bad passed, and we w*ere already face to face—the unknown and myself. Our horses were bead to head, and their nostrils, dilated with ter ror, mingled together their fiery breath ing. Both of us halted in a dead silence. Above was the smooth and lofty wall of the hacienda; on the other side, but three feet distance from the wall, open ed a horrible gulf. Was it an enemy I had before mine eyes ? The love of my coun try, which boiled at that period in my young bosom, led me to hope it was. 4 Are you for Mexico and the Insur gents ?’ I exclaimed, in a moment of ex citement, ready to spring upon the un known horseman if he answered me in the negative. 4 Mexico e Znsurgente—that is my password,’ replied the cavalier. 4 1 am the Colonel Garduno.’ 4 And I ant the Captain Castanos.’ Our acquaintance was of long stand ing, and but for our mutunal agitation we should have no need exchange our names. The colonel had left us two days since at the head of a detachment, which we supposed to he either prison ers or cut off, for he had been seen to re turn to the camp. 4 Well, colonel,’ 1 exclaimed, 4 1 am sorry you are not a. -for you! perceive that one of us must yield the pathj|>y to the other.’ (Jur horses had the bridle on their necks, and I put my hand iu the holster of my saddle to draw out my pistols. 4 1 see it so plainly,’ refilled the colo nel, with alarming coolness, ‘that 1 should already have blown out the brains of your horse, but for the feat* lest mine in a moment of terror, should precipitate me w ith yourself to the bottom of the abyss! / remarked, in (act that the colonel al ready held his pistol in his hand. We both maintained the most profound si lence. Our horses felt the danger like ourselves, and remained as immovable cs if their feet were nailed to the ground.— My excitement had entirely subsided.— 4 What are we going to do ?’ I demanded of the colonel. 4 Draw lots which of the two shall leap into the ravine.’ ft was, in truth, the sole means of set tling the difficulty. ‘There are, never theless, some precautions to take,’ said the colonel. 4 Me who shall be condem* ned by lot shall retire backwards. It will be hut a feeble chance to eschape for him, I admit; but, in short, it is a chance and especially one in favor of the winner.’ 4 You cling not to lile then ?’ I erred out, terrified at the sang-froid with which this proposition was put to me. 4 1 cling to life more than yoursell,’ sharply replied the colonel, for I have a mortal outrage to avenge. But the time is slipping away. Are you ready to pro ceed to draw the last lottery at which one of us will ever assist ?’ How were we to proceed to this draw ing by lot ? by means ol the wet finger, like infants, or by head and tail, like the schoolboys? Both ways were imprac ticable. Our hands, imprudently stret ched out over the heads of our frighten ed horses, might cause them to give a fa tal start. Should we toss up a coin, the night was too dark to enable us to distin guish which side fell upwards The col onel bethought him of an expedient, of which I never should have dreamed. 4 Distcn to me, captain,’ said the colo nel, to whom I iiad communicated my perplexities ; 4 / have another way. The terror which our horses feel, makes them draw every moment a burning breath.— The first ol us two whose horse shall neigh —’ 4 Wins !’ I hastily exclaimed. 4 Not so —shall be the lose*. 1 know that you area countryman, and such as you can do whatever you please with your horse. As to myself, who but last year wore the gown of a theological student. / fear your equestrian powers. You may be able to make your horse neigh— to hinder him from doing so is a very dif ferent matter.’ We waited in deep and anxious silence until the voice of one of our horses should break forth. This silence lasted for a minute-—for an age! h was my horse that neighed first. Tho colonel gave no external manifestation of itis joy, but no doubt lie thanked God to the very bot tom of Itis soul. 4 You will allow me a minute to make | TERMS: $2 in Advance. my peach with Heaven ?’ I said to the colonel, w ith failing voice. 4 Will five minutes be sufficient ?’ 4 lt will,’ / replied. The colonel drew out his watch. I addressed towards the heavens, brilliant will) stars, which I thought / was looking up to for the last time, an intense and a burning prayer. 4 It is time,’ said the colonel. J answered nothing, and with infirm hand gathered up the bridle of ruy horse, and drew it within my finger, agitated by a netvous tremor. 4 Yet one moment more,’ / said to the colonel, 4 for / have need of all my cool ness to carry into execution the fear* ful manoeuvre which 1 am about to com mence.* 4 Granted, replied Garduno. 4 My education, as I have told yon, had been in the country. My childhood, und part of my earliest youth, had almost been passed on horseback. / may say, with out flattering myself, that if there was any one in the world capable of executing this equestrain feat, it was myself. I rallied myself with almost a supernatural effort and succeeded in recoving my entire seK-possession in the very face of death. Take it the worst, / had alreadjf braved il too often to be any longer ajarmed at it. From thaigjwftant. I dared to hope As soon as my horse felt, for the first lime since my rencontre with the colonel, the bit compressing his mouth, I perceived that he trembled beneath me. 1 strengthened my self firmly on my stirrup to make the terri fied animal understand that his master no longer trembled. I held him tip with the bridle, as every good horseman does in e dangerous passage, and with the bridle and the spur, succeeded in backing h*m a few paces. His head was already at a greater distance from that of the horse of the colo nel, who encouraged me all he could with his voice. This done, I let the poor trem bling brute, who oboyed me in spite of his terror, repose himself for a few moments, and then recommenced the same manoeuvre. All on a sudden 1 felt his hind leg give nay under nte A horrible shudder ran through my whole frame. I closed my eyes as if about to roll to the bottom of the abyss, and I gave to body a violent impulse on the side next the hacienda, the surface ol which offered not a siuglo projection, not a single tuft of weeds my check my descent. This sudden move ment, joined to the desperate struggles of my horse was the salvation of my life, He had sprung up again on itis legs, which seema ed ready to fall from under him, so despe rately did 1 feel them tremble. 1 had succeeded in reaching, between the brink of the precipice and the wall of the building, a spot some few inehes broader.— A few more would have enabled me to turn him round, hut to attempt it here would have been fatal, and dared not venture. I sought to resume nty backwnrd progress, step by step. Twice the horse threw himself on his hind legs and fell down upon the same spot. It was in vain to urge him anew, either with voice, bridle or spur ; the animal obstinately refused to take a single step in the rear.— Nevertheless l did not feel my courage yet exhausted, for 1 had no desire to die. One last and solitary chance of safety suddenly appeared to me like a flash of light, and I resolved to employ it. Through the fasten ing of nty boot, and in reach of my hand, wn passed a sharp and keen knife, which 1 drew forth front its sheath. With my left hand I began caressing the mane of my horse, all the while letting hint hear my voice. The poor animal replied to my caresses by plain tive neighing; then, not to alarm him ab ruptly, my hand followed up little and little the curve of his nervous nsek, and finally rested upon the spot where last of the ver tebrae unites itself with the cranium. The horse trembled, but I caimed him with my voice. When I fell his very life, so to speak, palpitate in his brain beneath my fingers, I leaned over towards the wall, my feet gently slid from the stirrups, and with one vigorous blow I hurried the pointed blade in the seat of the vital principle. The animal fell as if thunderstruck, without a single motion; and for myself, with knees almost as high as my chin, I found myself on horseback across a corpse. I was saved ! 1 uttered a triumph ant cry, which was responded to by the col nel, and which the abyss re-echoed with a hollow sound, as if it felt that its prty had es caped from it, 1 quitted the saddle, sat my self down between the wall and the body of my horse, and vigorously pushed with my feet against the carcass of the wretched ani mal, which rolled down into the abyss. I then arose, and cleared at a few hounds the distance which separated the plaee where l was from the plain ; and under the irresisti ble reaction of the terror which I had so long repressed, I sunk in a swoon upon the ground. When l re-opened my eyes, tb# colonel was by my side. The new constitution of Maryland ha* been adopthd by a very large majority. It provide* for an elective judiciary.— NO 14