Republican sentinel. (Rome, Floyd County, Ga.) 1843-18??, March 23, 1844, Image 1

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Republican sentinel., March 23, 1844, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextIBIBIPINBiLKDASt SIBSTOSKIBiL* VOL. 2. THE REPUBLICAN SENTINEL IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING, BYJ. T. RILEY. _ TERMS. Two Dollars and Fifty Cents per annum, payable i n advance, or Three Dollars if not paid until the expiration of the year. Subscribers living out of the State, must in all cases, pay in advance. No subscrtpticn received for less than one year, un. less the money is paid in advance; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrearages are paid, except at the option of the Publishers, Persons requesting a discontinuance of their Papers, are requested to bearinmind asettlemcnt of their accounts. Rates of Advertising. Letters of Citation, $2 75 Notice to D’rs and C'rs, (40 ds) 3 25 Four Months Noticos, 4 00 Sales of Personal Property by Executors, )„ Administrators, or Guardians, Sales of Lands or Negroes by do. 4 75 Application for Letters of Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged $1 00 for every twelve lines, or less, first insertion, and 50 cents for each weekly continuance. Monthly adver tisements will be charged one dollar per square, for each monthly inset tion. Advertisements, when the number of insertions is not marked upon them, will be published till forbid, and charged accordingly. U’Notico of the sale of Lands and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors;” or Guardians, must be published sixty days previous to the day of sale. ICTThe sale of personal Property, in like manner, must be published forty days previous tedny ol snle. iCTNotice to debtors und creditors of nn estate must be published forty days. o*Notice that Application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must be published four months. ltJ*Notice that Application will be made for Letters Disniisson, must be published six months. All Latters to the Publishers must come Post Faid, in order to secure attention. From the Rose of Sharon, for 1844. The Good Resolution, B Y MISS S. C. EDGAKTON. Quite away from the dusty turnpike, and across sweet-smelling clover-fields, in n small, quaint, moss grown edifice, dwell Job Good ell and his daughter May. Job had been a fisherman in his better days, bdt, sad to tell, hud been drawn away from his honest occu palon by the seductive charms of the village inn. There he might be lound I'rom early morning till midnight scarce turning his steps lomewardto the frugal meals prepared bv his ■atient child, and leaving with her the whole tare and toil of providing for their family nec ” utim'.vSv ■ ‘ ‘ 1 11 1 Happy was it for May, poor girl! that her teart was as brave and hopeful, as ii was pas tient and loving. Whoever passed her door on a bright spring morning, might hear her voice, singing songs ns sweet and merry as hough she had not a care or sorrow in the world. And that little quaint old cottage! who would have deemed it the home of an in veterate tippler, with it3 neatly swept grass sward, its bed of fragrant carnations, its honey .suckles, azalias, and mossroses! Job loved his daughter May—was proud of her—and, save his great neglect, always treats ed her with kindness. In his worst stages of inebriation he exhibited no phasis of cruelty; he was only excessively and shamelessly silly, and disposed to lavish on May a world of fools ish and fondling caresses. May, in turn, was always gentle and patient with her father, nev er reproaching him for his vile habits, but of. ten tenderly entreating him to stay nnd assist her about her garden, or to spend the long win ter evenings with her, instead of hurrying away to the “Admiral.” One very beautiful spring morning, Job stuck his old hat jauntily on one side of his head, and stood crowding the tobacco into his pipe, ever and anon casting a wishlul look to ward May, who was busily wiping the break fast plates. “Can Ido any thing for you, father?” said she, looking up with a pleasant and encour aging smile. “Ah, you’re a good girl, May, a blessed girl! I hate to trouble you—but just now I’m all out of change—and a curse on these times, 1 say, when an honest man can’t get trusted for a shilling to save him from want.” “Dear father, I would willingly give you what little money 1 have, but if Ido we shull be forced to go without dinner or supper, I fear.” “Are we really grown so poor as that? Ah, well! these are melancholy times for us poor fishers. I’ll not take your money, May; I can win a shilling from Ned Watkins any day, at nine pins, and that will be easier than to rob you.” “Oh, papa! if you will not go to the admiral, to-day, but will help me plant out my little garden, and transplant those fine strawberry vines that yield us so many dollars every year —Oh! dear papa, I cannot tell you how hap. py you will make me, how very gratefully I shall remember the kindness.” “Little need of my assistance'” answered Job with a good-natured luugh, and a sly wink, that sent the bright blood gushing nil over May’s dimpled cheeks. “Younger and steadier hands are all at your service, and on old man like me would bo in the way.” “Oh, no! no, papa!” exclaimed May, earn cstly dropping her work, and clasping her arm in his, at the same time lifting up her beaming, tearful eyes most imploringly. Job was touched. Tears were unwonted visiters to those joyous and radiant eyes; so, at least thought he, who saw few indeed of the many that were shed for him. “You are a good girl, May,” said he, patting her head, and kissing her white forehead, with parental delicacy; “you are a good girl, and I wish I were a more worthy father. But let me go now, dear, and I will soon be back again to help you.” With this promise, he tore himself away. May had been too long accustomed jo have her entreaties disregarded, to shed rfinny tears for her present disappointment; so having coins pleled her household arrangements, she tied on her little cottage straw —its pretty blue ribbon somewhat faded, it is true, but thereby better suiting the exquisite delicacy of her com. plexion—and proceeded to the garden. There was a freshness and exhilaration in the soft, spring air, that soon removed from her heart and fuce nil traces of unhappiness; and if her cheek had previously been a shade too pale, this defect was remedied the instant the sound of a buoyant and hasty footstep fell upon her listening eat. The person who approached was the son of May’s nearest neighbor, widow Lovell. J He was a fine looking fellow, with a complex ion of the clearest white, eyes of the darkest’ blue, nnd hair that would rival the gloss and blackness of“a raven’s wing.” He held a has. ket on h's arm, full of young plants. “You were wishing lor some of those gor geous pansies, May. See, 1 have b-.-cut fortun ate enough to procure you some.” “You are my good genii Harry. I have but to wish, nnd lo! the prize is at baud.—l thank } ou a thousand limes.” The young friends busied them-elves in | planting the roots, for some time in silence,: They were lovers, though not ncknowvdced [ ones. The confession bad been long tremb- : ling on Harry’s lips, (silly fellow! d:d lie notl know bis eyes had already told it over and uv-! er again?) but there was something in May’s! manner which restrained and embarrassed’ him. This morning, however, he had quugl.t her with the determination of avowing bis love.! For nothing was 1 lurry Lovell more remark*! able than for his readiness and eloquence ol'j speech. It was astonishing what could keep! him sosilent on this occasion. Root after root ■ •tv us fix I'd m rhe ground,'’ find stiff -firs tongue faltered in its instructed duty. “This is noi place,” thought he, “with the sun glaring) down upon us, and in open view of half the) village.” He rose I'rom tlie garden path, and lifting his new palm-leaf lint— May’s hand I hud braided for bin:—brushed back from his’ forehead, which was ave y while mid hands’ -some one, a mass of black, glossy curls. “You arc weary, May,” said he,“and the’ sun is really oppressive. I have my thoughts’ on a glass of your nice root beer. Together ) with the shade of the porch, it will be very ; refreshing.” May laughed, and led the way to the house. The beer was brought, drank, and praised; the! glass removed, and .May with Iter bonnet off, j and her soft, brown hair parted smoothly from 1 her brow, had seated herself on the threshold’ of the door. Harry chose a situation on the door-step.—Here they were quite sheltered’ from the sun, and quite bidden from the view of the villagers. Hurry had no excuse fur si lence; and so, in a quiet way, but with a burn- < ing cheek and eloquent eye, he told the tale ol his love. May heard him with many heart-throb-1 bings, and a few ill-concealed tears. “O Harry! 1 feared this,” she said. “Sweet as it is to know that you love me, it is bitter indeed to feel that we can never be happy in this af fection.” J “But what shall hinder us, dear May?” “My father, Harry, I can never leave him - ” “Os course not; but he shall have a home with us.” “You must not think of the thing, dear Har ry. You have already a mother to support, and I can never consent to bring upon you such a burden as poor father would he. Were he merely old and decrepid, 1 might not look upon the case as so hopeless; I* might almost then consent that lie should became a burden to you, but as he is, O Harry, you know his un fortunate weakness; you know how unfit he is to sit at any fireside, or be a partaker of any domestic society except such ns nature has made sacredly his own. A (laughter can par don, cun bear with Itis infirmity; but, O, Har ry! your home would be desecrated by such an inmate - ” Poor May* how bitterly she wept, ns this painful nnd humiliating reflection was breathed into her lover’s ears; but he, like a generous und devoted friend, soothed nnd encouraged! her; nnd though ho found to combat her res olution wits idle, lie still declured that she only had, und ever should have undivided empire over his heart. Now all this while,there was a little by scene going on, which wo must not conceal from our readers, especially since it has reference to the issue of our talc. Job VVoodwell, when he parted from his daughter, struck across the j “liet (he Blessings of Government Descend upon All without Partiality.” ROME, FLOYD COUNTY, GEORGIA, MARCH 23, 1844. clover-fields toward the Admiral; but instead of entering, as was his time-out.of mind cus tom, lie turned aside and springing down the rocks, sat for some time gazing thoughtfully upon the great expanse of ocean that lay spread before him. On his left, frowning over the cliffs rose the roof of the old Admiral, enti cing him to his folly, but the sweet, pleading tearful face ofhis loved May would steal into his heart, nnd paralyze the power of the temp ter, in a manner that surprised even the poor victim himself. “I told May l would soon return,” said he, “but if I go there Ned Watkins and a whole gang of loafers will beset me, and drive all thoughts of home out of my head. So 1 will keep out of their sight, and for once fulfil my promise.” Job reached his house just after Harry anil May had entered it, and hearing their voices as lie came up toward the porch where they were sitting, he stopped in front of a window that opened at the side of the porch, and gazing through it, could not only distinctly hear the language, but cot'ld also see the faces of the young lovers. ‘I he mention of his own name kept his feet riveted to the spot. Their con versation has already been detailed, and itself, feet upon Job, in bis present mood may well be surmised. At first the hot blood rushed ip torrents to his brain and fuce, and the deep dis gust lie feit lor his own folly was pictured in every lineament of his fuce and countenance. But when lie saw May in tears, when lie heard her sweet, tremulous voice, pronouncing C e doom us Harry’s fondest hopes, andjill for sis sake, vim had so cruelly wronged and dtts g ue: J her, he wrung itis hands in agony, ar and unable to suppress lis feelings, hurried ca i tiously through the back entrance of the e, and shut himself up in his chamber. A sail day was it for May Woodell aft ;r Henry reined. Her garden had lost its In terest. Even the favorite pansies only ma le her w eep when she looked on them. Ste prepared a dinner for her father, howevt r, ;.i:J s'rove, by an increasing devotion to i lis wants, to forget her sorrowful thoughts. But the day wore on, and Job did not appef r. Thu dinner was removed uniasted. “t\Lr lather! ’ said May, “I told him I had scarce money enough lo liny us a dinner: I four has denied himselfout ofeonsiduration for mcl.” Anti -lie tried to believe this the true solutixm to ihiH tklny, though experience had ii.ucJ’fc lidrmai itis neglect oi meals was aoJ(f a • sioned by a worse than ordm JJIh. How different would have been lu'h disl. Ilgs had she known that Iter erring parent was jwiis moment in his own chamber, overwhelrrvft with anguish and remorse! Hoiv quid ly would she have forgotten every thought of self, and hastened to pour into his ear us? tr. unceof her forgiveness and love! All, it vas better for him May, that they tender mercies were a while withheld. “1 do think father will return to te t,” thought May; and she hastened to prepare a dish for him which she knew ho very much liked, and which she bad made some perso lal sacrifice to pro: ure. Those only who hnve but one object to care for, one being to smile on their toils, owe friend to whom their cxiste ice seems a peculiar blessing, can alone underst md how every thought and feeling becomes a * ers vitor at one shrine. Job, meanwhile, hearing her light step about the house, rose from the bed where he had thrown himself, bathed his lace in the brsin of cool water that May’s hand kept constantly supplied in his chamber, brushed his Imir, and putting on his hat, stole cautiously down into tite yard, and betook himself to May’s bed of pansies and carnations. Her she espied, itid ran out to meet him. Her,first glance reliev ed and gladdened her lieatt. She held out her hand to greet him. “How long you have been away, papa! and how glad I am to see you home to ten!” she said, looking into his face with a smile, that told him how happy md grateful she felt to meet him iu a rutunal mood once more. As they sat together at that tea-table, cfiat. ting in a social and affectionate way, of the thousand little interests dear to a father, and child even though one, alas, is but such m name, May felt not a solitary trace of her morning’s sorrow. If she thought of Harry, it was with love and gratitude, hut scarcely with pain and regret, for though the lame enuse remained to prevent their union, how could she think of anything unpleasant or mel ancholy, while her dear father sat ‘by, giber, and full of kind words and gentle attentions! A week passed on, nnd Job daily usiisted Mny in arranging nnd planting her garden, never once going near the Admiral, nor 1 lilt ing a glass of spirits to his lips. May was in raptures. Only one thing disturbed her fcliei ty; Harry was not by to partake of it. ‘<lt is foolish in him to stay away so long,” thought she; “lor though we must not be lovers; wo might certainly he friends.” Perhaps the change would not have been so easy, Maj? One morning after breakfast, Job rose from the table, and put on his old hat, (May had just braided him anew one,) saying, as he did so, “I am going up lo the Admiral tin* morn- Ned IFutkins, and some of my friends thore, will begin lo wonder at my long absence* ] Only think, May, it is a whole week since I j have “been there.” May’s smile changed tea look ofundisguisa- ‘ ble distress at this unwelcome announcement. “O, father!” she exclaimed, in a tone of touch, ing entreaty, “do not go any more to that ’ wretched place. I have been so happy this past week, I cannot spare you away. You ’ will not go, dear father.” Job smoothed her bright hair, and looking good humoredly into her troubled face, repli. ! ed; “If f go, your friend Harry will come to see you again; but so long as 1 stay, you arc not like to enjoy much of his society.—l will not be in your way, my child;” and without stopping to listen to her earnest remonstrances, he imprinted a tender kiss upon her cheek and hurried away to the Admiral He found the usual bar-room club assem bled. Immediately upon his entrance they bagan their assaults upon him for his long ab sence. He evaded them, marching up to the bar, and throwing down a sixpence, “Give us a mug of stout flip, Rawley,” said he; and while this was preparing he picked up the stump of an old pen, dipped it into the batter thick ink that stood on the desk, and drawing an old letter from his pocket, tore off the back, and scribbled upon it the following remarkable ! words: 1 “This certifies that I, Job Woodell, do hereby give my solemn pledge to abstain wholly, henceforth and forever, from the use of all intoxicating drinks as a beverage. (Signed.) JOB WOODELL. May 15,1812. I This he placed in the hands of his old fel- J. low-tippler, Ned Watkins, bidding him read it aloud to bis companions, while he seized his mug ol‘flip’and hurried to the door - Lifting it toward his lips, to make the temptation as • strong as possible, he suddenly turned it up side down, spilling its smoking contents upon ; the ground. Then placing the mug in this reversed position op the bench, he took his : pipe from his mouth, and delivered this brief isojjloquy: “Job Woodell, thou art a man j again. The fetters that bound thee are brok en, and thou art free! Job Woodell, thou art :j a father. Henceforth the child of thy lost : May has a lather’s arm to rely upon lor her ’ ‘ support, and a father’s heart to bless and cher i ! ish her. Jod Woodell, thou art redeemed. r- junw .and sine thfv linlleluiuhat” I Having thus made and solemnized this Good Resolution, he entered the bar-room jin quest of his hat. He found the group hud : | died together, in vain striving to spell out his rude hieroglyphics. “Here, let me read it for I you, said Job. And taking the paper from Ned’s hand, he proclaimed in their astonished J ear, tidings ofhis redemption. ‘ *J°b Woodell?” exclaimed Ned Wat kins, prefacing the name with a loud oath. I “What has brought you to this nonsense?” | “My daughter's love has brought me to this sense , was the calm reply, and he turned with a serious aspect to the door. When he entered his own house, he found Harrv there, standing with May’s hand clasp ed iu his, and both looking very much afflicted- I May sprung forward with an exclnimation of joy, and twined her arm in his •O, father! ; 1 was sure you would return, you are so very ; kind of late.” “But why do you welcome me, my love, since my arrival will be a signal for Harry’s departure! And pray what have you been saying to each other to cause you to look sor- I rowful?” “Harry is going to leave us, papa. He lias adopted your old profession of whaling, *and goes out in the Dolphin, to-morrow.—He was ‘just bidding me farewell, ns you entered.” j “Ah! how is this? 1 thought you loved May too well to leave her,” said Job, laying his hand on Harry’s shoulder. j “1 dp! 1 do!” answered he, with great emo tion, rising to depart; “but what avails it— she refuses tube mine.” He from the room to hide the tears that forced themselves to his eyes, when Job’s l and detained him. “Stop a mo. men!,tny sol,” said he. “As you pass by Dix’s grocery, just be kind enough, will you, to post up this little notice on their door. 1 j wish to make it as public as possible-” “Harry’s eye glanced hastily over it.— ‘Blessed be God!” cried he, his whole lace lighting up with joy. “Is this true? Have ‘you deliberated? Are you serious, Mr. JVood : ell?” “Yes, my dear Harry, it is my serious, de ! liberate, irrevocable pledge—signed, sealed, j and solemnized. Show it to Mny—she stands ) staring at us in dubious wonder.” May needed but one glance. She threw ! ; herself into her father’s arms, and but burst! into tears. Father and daughter wept togetli. er, but they were delicious tears, expressive of joy that words could not utter. Harry’s eyes, too, were overflowing with sympathy, but ho retired to the porch, feeling that their joy was too sacred to be witnessed except by Heaven. la a few minutes Job recalled him. Taking hi* baud, ho placed it in one of May’s and hold them clasped together between both his own. “My dear children,” said he, “one week a S°> I was a witness and auditor of the interview you held in the porch. It awakened me to a sense of my great wickedness, and that very moment 1 vowed to reform. 1 have served a week’s noviciate, nnd feel no desire to return to my old life. There lies my pledge. It was written in the haunt, and amid all the temptations of my old vice. I read aloud to my old companions. They sneered at me, but I did not shrink. I pitied them. - And now, my dear children, since 1 have done all this for your sakes, show me your gratitude in making yourselves as happy as possible. How could they refuse a request like this? Harry said nothing further about going to sea, and in the following autumn took Hay Wood ell to his homo with the title of Mrs. Lovell. Job lives with them, and never yet broken, nor repented of his Good Resolution. From the N. Y. Plebeian. The Effects of a Fliicluatiug Curren cy upon the Nlorals and Society. !f we glance the condition of the people of the United States, for the last fifty years, we will find, that poverty and crimes have increased and decreased in a corresponding ratio to ‘.ha fluctuations in the circulating medium or mon ey of a country, la Great Britain, according to an English writer, criminal offences increase and decrease with the rise and fall in the price of provision and the bills of moality show that the number of deaths rises and falls from the same cause. But as prices of the necessaries of life, in nine cases out of ten, rise and fall with an increase and decrease in the quantity and value of the circulating medium, the true cause of an increase of crime and poverty, are to be referred to a fluctuating currency. The virtue, independence, and happiness of the people cannot be preserved, so long as they are surrounded with poverty, destitution and want. “It is hard,” says Dr. Franklin, “for an emty bag to stand upright.” There is no country in the world wheie wealth is so much ! regarded as a means of distinction and happi. ness, as in the United Sta'es. Genius and tal. j ent are indeed respected by our people; but the respect attaches in nine eases out of ten, from the fact that they enable the possessor to ac quire welath. Were it possible to deprive tal ent nnd genius of the power to accumulate wealth, the present generation would pay very t."t in <l.^. Hence, we find that men will sacrifice every noble quality of the human intellect in order to obtain wealth. Men without talent, without genius, averse to physical labor, have so managed it, by the aid of our vicious and corrupt Banking System, as to accumulate large fortunes while hundreds of others who hnve produced this verv wealth were at the same time suffering for the neces saries of life; An examination of the calendar of our crim. inal courts, will show that a large proportion of the offences against law and moral.tv, for the last ten years, may be directlv traced to our Banking system. Men, whose character lor morality and itegrity were unsullied, have been found guilty of the grossest offences a. gainst both. In order that a nation should be happy and moral, it is necessary the people individually should possess a competency. All the laws punishing crime that ever were or can oe en acted will be insufficient to preserve the mor. als and ensure the happiness of a people wan. ting bred. And men cannot be happy with only sufficient means to procure subsistence for the next twenty four hours. Thev must have a lair prospect of enjoying the means of a permanent provision for themselves and i ‘amides. The price of labor should be suffi. cient to support a man, and enable him to ac cumulate sufficient to provide for his wants h w hen he arrives at that period of life when his mental and physical abilities proclaim that his labor should cease, and to provide for those ordinary cases of sickness to which he is sub ject. The power that governs men in civilized so ciety, and makes them virtuous and happv, is more a moral than a legal power. A compe tency, or the means to procure it, would ban ish ninetenths ol the vice and crime that now exist. If the legislators and philanthropists of the present generation would direct their whole energies with a view that the labor of every individual should secure to him a competency of the necessaries cf life lor all ofhis legiti mate wauls, we believe that the accomplish ment of this single object would uo more to of* | evate the human race, and banish im- . v.ce, and crim. from the worM lllan * their tt £ | decessors have accomplish; j f rom lhe J ? • ,V C .“■•**“? *man to the present day. But ti the price of labor was adequate to the wants and enjoyments of the laborer, and la i bor was in constant demand, they could not re main so under a fluctuating eurency. As the currency expands the prices of the accessaries ol lito increase, and although the price of labor may also increase, the laborer is no hotter off —bis earnings will not procure more of tha necessaries ol lile—and when the contraction which mevittibly follows an expansion takes place the laborer is thrown out of employment NO. 3.