Newspaper Page Text
‘ fi ~
J. H. SEALS, )
> Editors.
L. L. VEAZEF, j
NEW SERIES. VOL 11.
rxmwneu
CVKRY THURSDAY, KXCEPT TWO, Iff THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. BEALH.
TYRMP!
SI,OO, in advance; or $2,00 at the end of the year.
rates of advertising.
1 ,qn>>re ftvrelve lines or less 1 } first insertion,.. $1 00
Each continuance, >SO
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
nix lines, per year 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office,.. 3 00
STANDING ADVERTISEMENTS.
i square, three months, 5 00
1 square, six months,
1 square, twelve uMtnthß, . ..12 ftO
2 sqnarea, 4< 41 ......18 00
3 sqnaroK, “ “ 21 00
4 square?, “ *J ..................26 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
of insertion?, will be continued until forbid, and
charcred accordingly.
£jj3“"Merchanw, Druggists, and other?, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 5 00
■Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardian?, per square,... 325
Notice io Debtors and Creditors, 3 25
Notice for Leave to Seil, 4 00
•Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adrn’n. 5 on
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, fi 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENT?.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
or Guardians, are required by law to be
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of these sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be
given at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
be days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must
be published weekly for two months.
v Citations for Letters of Administration most be j
published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly , six months —for Dismission from
Guardianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months— for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deceased, the full sjutce of three
months.
Js?“Publieationß will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
God in History.
It is because God U visible iu history that its
office is noblest except that of the poet. The po
et is at once the interpreter and favorite of heaven,
lie catches the first beam of light that flows from
’•ts uncreated source —he repeats the message ot
the Infinite, without always being able to analyze
it, or why he was sefeced for its utterance. But
bistoiy yields in dignity to him slone. for it not
only watches ail the great encounters of life, but
recalls what had vanished, and partaking of a
bliss like that of creating, restores it to Animated
being. The mineralogist takes special delight in
contemplating the process of crystallization, as
though he had caught nature at her vrotk as age
oinstricUn ; giving herself up to be gazed at with
out concealment, as such as she appears in the
movement of action. But history, as she reclines
iu the lap of eternity, sees the mind of humanity
itself engaged in formative efTrU, constructing
sciences, promulgating laws, organizing common
wealths, and displaying its energies in the visible
movements of its intlligences. Os all pursuits
that require analysis, therefore, it stands first. It
is equal to philosophy ; for as certainly as the
actual bodies forth the ideal, so certain does histo
ry contain philosophy. It is grander than the
natural science; for its study is man, the last
work of creation, and the most perfect in its re
lation with the Infinite.— Bancroft.
Death of the Original Unde Tom.—T he Indi
anapolis Journal mentions the death, in that city,
on Saturday last, of Thomas Magruder, an old ne i
pro, aged about 110 years. He is supposed to J
have been the one who suggested the name and
the leading features of the character in Mrs. Stowe’*
novel, ‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin.* 1 This supposition is
based on the coincidence of name and character.
and on the fact, says the Journal, “that Henry W.
Beecher, during bis residence here, was a constant
•visitor of * Uncle Tom’s,” well acquainted with the
history, and a sincere admirer of his virtues. We
have been told by Mrs. -3u>we herself sometimes
called to see the oid man. “Unde Tom’s Cabin,”
too was the name of the house among all his ac
quaintances, and was a familiar phrase hero long
before Mrs. Stowe immortalized it. At all events,
we know that it is the impression with all the friends
of Mrs. Stowe and her brother, in his civ, that
“Old Uncle Tom” was the original, or at. lewd the
suggestion, of the hero of the “Cabin,”
Remirkable Preservation. —Speaking of the
select oration of St. Patrick's day by the Hibern
ian Society of Savannah, the “News remarks that
a noticeable feature of the oecasio’n was the pres
once on the table of the n!.J pitchers an-J tumbler* j
which were procured for the society and used at j
their meeting on St. Patrick’s day in 1522, and at
every anniversary since. There wore originally
four large pitchers and six dozen tumblers, ami
uow, after a lapse of thirty-five years, ai it ho pitch
ers are in its©, and thirty-four of the tumblers.—
This fact speaks well for the temperate modera
tion of this society, for, notwithstanding the fact
that, at each succeeding anniversary thp tumblers
have l*en filled with the “mountain dew,” there
are now but eighteen missing for thirty five years.
The pitchers bear the harp and other emblems, the
Humblers have the harp and shamrock intertwin
ed, with the motto “firin-go-Bragh,”
A Noble Poem on Kane,
! In admiring to the request of three valued and
j Alien ed eoi re*pumfanfo, we publish the finest poem
j :hat has been wri;ten. m> to the present time, oa
I the death of our Ceubuy.mau; EueriA KaviA. It
I will not be the less welcome to American readers,
t c jit? it does, from an English pen. To eay
: the poem is worthy of the subject, iw the si ropiest
| and fost praise we can give it. The name of the
nil hor. Mi Fi r Jr.me* O’Brien, wiJi be remem
j sored bv our readers in connection with several
j peculiarly picturesque ballads that ..wore published
Is -<i>e months since in the Home Journal
i K < VL'—PIET lOnr nCBRt’ AKY, 185 T.
j Aloft, upon an old bss.iitV crag,
Which, scalped, by keen winds that defin’d
the Pule,
Gazes wiih dead face or; the seas that roll
Around the secret of the mystic zone,
A mighty nation’s star-bespangled flag
Flutters alone.
And underneath, upon the lifelesti front
Of that drear 1 cliff, a simple name is traced;
Fit type of him, who, famishing and gaunt.
But with a, rocky purpose in his sou*,
Broastqd the gathering snowtq
Clung tq the drifting floes*
By want bek'figijer* and, and by winter chased,
i Heeking the brother lost amid that frozen wool*.
Not many months ago we greeted him,
j Crowned with the icy honors of the North.
Across the land bis hard-won fame went forth,
I A r,d Maine’s deep woods were shaken limb by limb
Lfis own mild Keystone State, sedate and prim.
Burst from decorous quiet as he came.
Hot Southern lip'S, wi<h eloquence aflrma,
Sounded his triumph. Texas wild and grim,
-Proffered its horny hand. The large-lunged West,
From out its giant breast.
Yelled its frank welcome. And from ruaia to main
Jubilant to the aky,
Thundered the mighty cry,
Honor to Kane!
In vain—in vain beneath bis feet we flung
The reddening roses! AH in vain we poured
The go](fui wine, and ouijd the shining board
Sent ibe toast circling, till the rafters rung
With the thnee-tr’pplcd honors of the feast!
Scarce the buds wilted and the voices ceas and
Ere the pure light that sparkled in his eyes,
Bri ht as auroral tires in Southern skies.
Faded and faded. And the brave young heart
That the relentless Arctic winds had robbed
Os all its vital beat, in that long quest
For the lost captain, now within his breast
More and more faintly throbbed, j
Ilts was the victory ; but as his grasp
Gloat'd on the laurel crown with eager clasp,
Death launched a whistling dart;
And ere the thunders of applause were done
llis bright eyes closed forever on the sun!
Ido iaie—too late the appended prize be won
In the Olympic race of Science and of Art!
Like to some shattered berg that, pale and lone,
Dibits from tbo white North ton Tronic zone,
And in the burning day
Wbates peak by peak away,
Till on some rosy even
It dies with sunlight blessing it; so he
Tranquilly float* and to a Southern sea,
And melted into heaven 1
Ho needs no tears, who lived u noble life 1
We wiil not weep for him who died so well;
But we will gather round the hcartb, and tell
The story of his strife.
Suck homage suits him well
Belter than funeral pomp, or passing hell!
What tale of ; eril and seif-sacrifice 1
Prisoned amid the fastnesses v f ice,
With hunger howling o’er the wastes of snow 1
Night lengthened into months; the ravenous floe
C> unching the massive ships, as the white bear
Crunches h's pro>. Uw insufficient share
Os loathsome so and ;
The lethargy ol fa min; the despair
U'gmg to labor, nervelessly pursued;
Toil < one with skinny arms, and laces hued
Like pallid masks, while dolefully behind
Glimmered the fading embers of a mind 1
I hat awful hour, when through the prostrate band
De’i iurn staked, l-iying his burning hand
Upon the ghastly foreheads of the crew.
The whispers of rebellion, faint and few
At first, but deepening ever till they grew
Into black thoughts of murder: such the throng
Os horrors round the Hero. High the song
Should be that hymns the noble part he played!
Sinking himself—yet ministering aid
To all around lnm. By a mighty will
Living defiant of the wants that kill,
Because hie death would seal hie comrades’ fate;
Cheering with ceaseless and inventive skill
Those Polar winters, dark and desolate.
Equal to every trial, every late, *
il?. stands, until spring, tardy with relief
Unlocks the icy gate,
And the pale prisoners thread the world once more
To the. sleep cl\ifs of Greenland's pastoral shore
Ueartiiy their dying chief /
Time was when he should gain his spurs of gold
From royal hands, who worn and the knightly state;
The knoll of old formalities is tolled,
And the world’s knights are now self-coneecrate.
No grander episode doth chivalry hold
In all its annals, back to Charlemagne,
Than that Lng vigil of unceasing pain,
jbaiihfidly kept, through hunger and through
By the good Christian-fcriigkCEusuA Kanb!
The Soul.
What makes the soul so vaiuaUe? Its immor
tdity? When-endless years have run on, the
!-ou! will siiit exist; amazing thought! Will it
never tire 'i Will the ethereal pulsations of sub
limated existence never prow heavy ? Will the
wheel never be broken at the cistern? Never!
l ire soul will endure a* long as the tLrone of God ?
As heaven’s wall shall gather no mosses from
Kge, neither will the soul become- decrepid ; in
I ucaven no One will he seen leaning on his staff for
j very a g*'* Whaq like angels, never grow old 1 Q,
| no, the soul’s literal suicide cannot be performed!
No Judas Iscariot can find sulphurous tree, or
jutting wall which, in Gehenna’s cavern, or burn
ing fields, may afford hire suspension between life
and death. The soul must live on.
■£&- It is as-erted by those who were on the
ground, as a most encouraging fact to show that
t hings are t*/tiding in the rigljt direction, that at,
tire close of the late session of Coogress, there
was no and. uukmness, quarreling, or disorder among
the members. A >tate of things almost unprece
dtnte 1, ispecia ly cn a change of the adminw
tratiocu
‘* • ’ “ jt=T
[•ENFIELD, GA, THURSpAY, APRtt 30, 1857, UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA LIBRARY
..f f the CruikkdCT.
Onirena.
XY KMMtfc KMERAUV
[coetrtn?t.]
- CHAPTER IV,
My mmd misgives
Some consequence, yet banging in the stars
Will! bitterly begin its fearful date
From this night’s revels.-*—Suakesccake.
A few years after the events we have narrated,
on a fair nigh*, the cutely hail* of Grey House
wore filled with music and revelrv. If* hsiighi v
mrstrsra had just returned from abroad, t>d was
on this oigbt receiving the welcome and Congraiu
iatione of the foauraonde. Fbc* stood there
among her guests draped in satin radiant with
jewels, briliaut with .-u.oiijNi and gayety, and yet
the veriest beggar that tr<*i the streets of ‘
on that night, m-ed not Lav? env-fad tha* proud
lady, for her rich robe was f>!d<*i >jver n phnui?’
and lestiees heart, and the Flight gleaming v<
those apai kliog gems,, beat htnypd to coi.cawl ihn
dark shadow that resti.Hl on her br>‘w, while the
seaming gladnew was a vain m*a’kery to tba trou
: bled spirit within. Lady Grey Had sought in
other lands to forget the p?t. but it could no?
ha. forflm memory of the. fair girl who had Wn
to her as a daughter *Hi clung to her heart in
spite of%very effort to banish it thence. Many
a time that none knew of. her haughtv head wa*
bowed, and the proud woman ‘wept bitter i*-er*
over that iii starred end* cruel fate, tears of con
trition as well as sorrow, fair now when bo
lateahe repented, oh! how bitterly of the upit*
ying harshness that had sent the voung girl forth
hcinelees and friendless in a strange land.
By her ladyships aide stood Lord Ht. Mere, who
had jvtst returned from a three yearn residence in
France, whither he had been sent as Ambassador.
Hie face always dark, was now evqn more gloomy
than of old, and bore many a (rail of evil unbri
died pasaion* and wild dissipation, yet his breast
wan decorated with stair aud ribbons that told of
high honors and exalted rank.
“I see” said the lady addressing the nobleman,
and glancing as she spoke towards two young
men that had just entered, “I see Sir, Harry Mot
top has availed himself of the carte blanche l gave
him, w ho is the handsome stranger accompanying
him iC The gentleman raised his glass carelessly
at first but as his eye fell on the stranger he star
ted, and turning quickly to his companion asked
with surprise ‘‘ls it possible your ladyship dors
not recognize Lira T
“I do not certainly,” she answered with awaken
ed curioeity, “pray who is it Lord S'. Mere.
“Captain Robert Ashton of the C. S. Navy,"—
he replied in a voice of affected indifference.
The lady started, and a look of keen pain flit
ted across Iter fine face, but almost instantly re
gaining her wonted oopo*ure she turned swav
and mingled with her guests.
It waa indeed r.o marvel that lady Grey failed
to recognize in that care-worn man tire gay ar
dent youth whom she bad so scornfully repulsed
in other days. The merry light had left his eve,
and his step had prematurely lost the buovance i
of youth, hie bearing was reserved an<| even
haughtily, while the expression of bis face was so
intensely roe! an oho! y, that the papers by would
turn to gaze again and wonder what one so
yoang and honored could grieve for,
Robert Aehton had returned after year? of
i-eperation, of hardship and danger, with a proud
and happy heart, to lay hi? wealth, fend fame hi
the flpet of her for whose dear sak he had striven
to win them. I need not tell of his grief. Ids ag
ony and dispß’r on learning that his beautiful be
loved was lost to him forever. The blow was too
much even for the brave and hardy sailor, who had
gallantly met death in every shape. IJis health
of mind and body gave way and be was proetrat
std on a bed of sickness, raving madly of her who
bad been the star of hi* hoy-hood, tbe light and
joy of his whole life.
Sir Harry Morton, who had formed an enduring
friendship for the young man. on hb previous vis
it to England, now proved the strength ami sin
cerity of that affection, bv watching over and
tending him with all th* solicitude and compas
sionate cam of woman. Aflr*r lingering for wrek
aod month* on tire very verge of the grave. Cap
tain Ashton at length slowly recovered. Kre he
was scarcely aljle to etand alone, he commenced
preparations to quit foyevw.a land fraught with so
many biuer association*. It was on the night
before the day appointed for his departure that
lady (irevV ball was to take place. Wishing to
gaze once more frft tire scene of former happiness,
snd parhapa led by tbe.h'md ,of fete, he had at
Sir Harry’s earnest *iir*Atke eon set .tad to
paoy him thither.
While tire music and revelry within ws at its
height, a youth came in at tire park gate. He
wh* m mere boy of a slender fragil form, clad in a
plain dark suit, and wearing, according to the
fashion of that day, a ©word at his side. He
passed with a alow, yet firm, and steady step,
through the kmg avenue of hoble oaks, and op
[ tbo broad step* of the halt, then pausing, he with
j a quick movement of hie small white hand, push
jed back the cop which ho had worn drawn far
] dcrwa over hie brow, and gazed around upon the
| gardens, and grounds that enclosed the house.
‘ Hie face, s he stood there with the dear coid rays
sos the bright moon falling full upon it, looked i.kc
f that of some beautiful statue, whose every feature
| had been carved to a eemblftoce of hopeless B<:>r
j row, it was in its hue, wan and wact
: W 5 suffering, yet lighted up by eyes, whose
j >,r ’ n F ?; mild hrilianry lent a ej.>ectrai beauty to
t the whiole, Ufa rettisined for a few minutes sp
j paront.lv tost in deep thought, when suddenly the
! habd of music within, hreaiiovt fv-wtfa in clear sweet
j i*>oee the air of‘‘Hail Cniumwa.” The boy lis
j'teweii as if spell bound, the roeiody seemed to
f awaken blended tnetnorietj of pleasure and regret,
j bfa cbeeh now dashed and then paled, and his
j large dark eyes grew soft and tearful. When the
| strains had gradually died away the youth stag
| d back, oH-erittg his face with his hands, and j
I trembling so violently that he seetned ori the point i
| of Tallin!? to the earth.
I u ‘-)h Imy country* b* mttrmtnvai to broken, i
| yet strangely musical tones, “my own, my beauti- j
j fnl land, shall I never see it again.”
) But *oo another ciiange came over the strange I
j being, be rissl his hesKl, and cmly folding his
| srrri ? ov. r his bosom, drew back into the shadow
)of a volume, atul reiuaire-1 motionless as before.
| Tt-a hours wore on, and the revellers began to
depart; then it became appeieni that the boy
a stcfae.l for st>me one, fur he aroused himself and j
font eageriy forward to into fare of eai'h j
<fopartmg guest. Fur some time it seemed he 1 ’
frund not the one he sought. At length a group j
of’ person* came out, and paused near the verv
pillar that concealed the youth. After conversing
gaily a few moments, they excha* g.*d adieus, and
! were about to depart.
“Are you sure you will hr* th-‘re to morrow St.
Nfer*v sail] one turning back ?
‘Yea, ’pen my honor,” answered the other,
“*The earl of St. Mere’a honor, ha ha !”
The nobleman btarted and gzei hurridlv
around, bis fiery glance fell on the slender form of
the stripling who stood by his side.
“Who are you boy, and what would you with
me,” he asked in surprise of the young stranger
“I am one, Lord St. Mere,” replied the boy qui
etly “who hath waited patiently for years, hoping
praying, that this meeting would come at last
What I would with you, is reparation for the
wrong you have done, for having spuken falsiv ol
—of one who’s honor was as dear to me as life
itself—nay, had I ten thousand livee, I would give
them all, oh heaven ! how freely—to wipe off the
stain you have cast upon her name, come my
iord,” he continued unaheathiog hie eword, and
pointing with it towards the garden, “oome let us
to yonder spot, and meet in open and honorable
wfuinC”
The Earl, bad and wicked as he was, was aiso
truly brave, and brave men always admiro thhi
virtue in others even though they be enemies.—
He with undisguised admiration on the boy
who thns reckieeaiy obaiienged him, who was wei!
known to be tbe best swordsman in ail Europe.
‘ Boy,” said he at length, “do you know to
v horn you speak.”
“Ay, ay,” answered the boy with strange bit
teruees, “l have good cause to know.”
“Get you hence to bed boy, you am heated
with wine,” returned the earl impatiently, and he
would have turned away, but tbe youth willed it
not so. h sprang forward and stood directly in the
noblemans path, hie black eyes flashing, and his
form quivering with intense excitement. Ero he
could speak St. Mere thrust him rudely away,
V'Siund aside” he exclaimed augeriy “I am wear
ied of this insolence.”
“The boy's j**rseverence bad at length argued
him and be was only reelmined from striking Lirn
y> theesrth by the presence of those around.
The yputh when he saw that the noble was
determined in bis resolution to avoid him. grew
suddenly psUy his email white hands worked con
vulsively, and be murrnumxi something to himself
in low pawdowate tones. v
Lord St. M ix agdo made a movement to de
part, this arouse.i the boy and seemed almost to
madden him. ‘ Go” be (shouted fiercely “go, O'w
fird, is *veU ms false slanderer and base liar.”
“By my earldom, but this is too much*’ cried
the tm.w enraged nobleman. and re those around
cwubj rn f e?fere, hi* bright steel Hashed from its
scftbbord, and in another moment was reekiug
with the life,b!ood of the boy. Without a word,
the bapb** young creature reeled back and press
ing his Laud mildly to bis side, lent against a
marble pdiar, pale and drooping, as though all
strength had left, him.
“I would have rpurned him,” said the earl with
•smnethiog of emotion. as H* mar ked the painful
working of hU victim’s features, “but be would
Dot let me, in hie madness, his rash folly.”
I he nobleman's voice seemed to arouse the boy
he raised bis head aud made a vain attempt to
steady bis trembling limbs.
“It is mete that your hand sboukl finish the
work yon have begun,” he answered bitterly ‘7OO
| toad* life a curse and burden io me, and ’tis well
, that you should end ‘b-—if suu spoke truly, ’twa9
tnsdrwea, for I thought to wti>g from your dying
lips a confessiou of toy innocence. a4 now—
yet agsjn [ sty ’tis well thus. But oh 1 Lord St.
Mere, jet me rot die in vin, let this blood” lie
continued, pc-intirg to the'purple stream that
gushe<i from his side, * let this blood I beaeech
you hloi out the stain you fiave cast upon mv
name”—be abruptly, and staggering for
ward, sank heavily to the marble pavement. The
Cmo which he hail worne drawn far down over his
brow, foil off, I,. weening a wealth of long silken
and revealing a face, pale beautiful an<]
womanly. At the Sight a cry arose* to madly
shrill feo passing wild, as never to He forgotten
oy thosi,. a lip h>'Hud, and a young man wearing a
rich uniiorm sprang forward and threw himself
boride the maiden—for p a <- young stranger
proved to so.
i * Onirene !” war. all he uttered, hr he raie***] her
| delicate form to hi* foora. At the sound the
j and vmg girl start.*!, that fsrroiliar voiqe had power
jto recall f*r a moment, even from the gate* of
[death winch she had already touched; a, fo>k of
j joy irradiated her white face, nnd she raised her
’ beautiful eyes, but alas, they were glazed and dim
I with the shadow of Azrael’s wing, ’twaa even ae
slie had said years ago in that twilight garden, she
never saw that loved face again on earth. Her
lips moved feebly, and the young rrsu font his
head to bear what she might say.
“Robert, dear Robert, ’tis happiness to die in
your arms,” she murmured in low broken tones,
tor breath w 4 failing fast “do not let them bury
me ken*, four me lo my native land—faiewell
my own” —a sigh as soft and !<>w as the breathing
of the wind through an JK diau harp shook her
geaifo bosom and sha was dead. They laid her
down to sleep in the sunny Bouth, where wave
the magnolia groves of sweet Georgia, that beau
tiful home whce memory she had cheeriehed so
fondly while living. Year* af.er, one slept by her
side, who’s name was an honor and glory to the
laud of his birth, whose example had been a shin
ing light to men, and who had loved her through
life, and in death.
Augusta, Ga.
j The Fleeting Character of the Vocalist's Fame.
1 oih Branham ihe greatest of all English sing
ers, and Madame Yestris, accomplished as an ac
tress, singer, and dancer, have gone to their rest.
Ihe memory of those who have ixoelled in such
arts as Branham and \ estris. shone in, is like a
dream. Ilowt ver gieat and justly won, the rep
utHtonofa great singer fadus away every four
after his voice has ceased to ring in our ears; and
the fame cf a great dancer decays from the earth
as s>on as she can no longer feast our eyes with
ihe fascination of her movements. The present
generation s{>eakrt of Jenny Lind as unrivalled in
her art, bunhus our fatfors spoke of Calalina, and
thus their fathers sjaike of Madame Mam—and
Catalina is to us now little more than a dream,
while some of our readers wili, perhaps, be asking
us who Madame Mara was. She was, in the day*
of people with whom we have conversed, the chief
< fall existing*?! g i* ; atfo so indisputable was her
supremacy that in her old age, after Catalina had
been hailed as the Queen of Song from France to
Italy, from England to Rusia, Madame Mara, re
{faffing more on her pa-t triumphs t.h*& on her ad
vanned y ear>,c un. from her r-treat to drive from the
field the presumptuous young woman who aspired
to wear the wreath which she had determined to
resign only with her life. Ilers was a melancholy
fate. Site appeared on the stage. She sang the
songs which used to thrill with the rapture the
hearts of all nations; bu„ her failure was complete.
Her voice was but the skeleton of thty rich voice
by which she had won her reputation, and her
friends could only pity the infatuation which had
Winded her io the tact, that it is of the very nature
of old age to impair tim mu.-icial powers as well as
all other powers, Bhe retired forever, passing to
the grave 111 complete obscurity.— Lyceum*
via Elcyant Art. — Prints of flowers, plants and
other similar objects can !e obtained ia perfection
by the following mode of operation. The mig
inal being passed tatween a copper plate and a
lead plate, through two rollers closely screwed
together, its image, 1 v means of the pressure, is
Us, with all its pecu’iar delicaces, or the lead
plate. If the colors are applied to this stamped
lead plate, as in printing on copper plate, a copy
in the most varying hues, and bearing a strik
ing resemblance to the original, can be obtained.
If k larjf- number of copies are required, which
(he lead form, on account of its softness, ie incapa
ble of furnishing, it is stereotyped, if intended to
be printed at a typographical press; or galvanised
if at a copper plate pies*, and the impressions are
then taken from the stereotyped or galvanised
plate.
Statistic of InkmjHronrK. —Judge Capron, at
the union temperance meeting, held io the Tale
ernacle, at New York, stated as the result of his
Own investigations, that in New York city there
are 15 000 dram shops and 400,<K>0 drunkards,
at the very least calculation ; each of thews drink
two gills of intoxicating liquors every day, being
equal to 800,000 gills, or 806 bble. per day; 300,*
0(>O bbls. in a year. This quantity would make
a test:voir POO feet Mng, 80 fo**t wide, and 52
feet, deep, equal to 3,744,000 cubic feet, and could
Irorit four large ships in full earl. Xl #3O per
flarrel, it amounts to #0,000.000, 00,000 children
never enter the school. During the last year, 6,*
000 cases wore tried, of which there were 4.200
convictions. No more than P 4 of the subjects of
these trials were sober when arrested. Not more
than 194 who were habitually sober persons. —
New York Tribune*
( TERMS:
1 $1 in advance; or, $2 at the end of tire year
\ * j, —-- ■■ -
> JOHN H. SEAI.S,
k I'uooKtirroii.
VOL. Xmi-NUMBER 18.
Xryci tl BnUffotis Herald,
Thß Price!
A young man *hd hie wife were prepared to at
tend a Christmas party at the Louse of a friend,
s me mik* distant.
“Henry, my dear hurband, don’t drink too
iDuclj at the party to-day ; you will promise me,
won’t you?” said she. putting her hand upon her
brow, and raising her eyes to his face with a plead
ing glance.
“No, Millie, I will not; you may trust me.”
And be wrapped his infant boy in a soft blank
et,. and they proceed*!
The liorsea soon prancing over tbe turf.
:nd pfaftsant omvarsation beguiled the wav.
“Now, don't forget your promise,” whispered
the young wife, ae she passed up the stgps.
I**>or tiling! she was the wife of a man who
loved to look upon the wine when red. But his
love for bie wife and bafo, whom the? both idol*
lz > and, kept him hack, and it was not often that be
joined in the bacchanalian revelries.
The party passed off pleasantly, the time tor de
parting drew near, and the wife decended from tbe
upper chamber, to jo;o her husband. A pang
shot through her trusting heart., as she met him.
for ik* wa* intoxicated—he had broken his prom
ise. •
Hi! -Tilly ihey r>fa homeward, save when the
drunken man would break into snatches o( .song,
ur unmeaning laughter. But the wife rode on’
for bafo pressed closely on 1 er grieved heart.
“Give me the child, Millie; I can’t trust you
him,” said he, ae tiny approached a dark
and swollen stream which they had to ford.
After some hesitation, she resigned her first-born,
bur darling, closely wrapped ia the great blank
et, to his anne. Over the dark waters the noble
steed safely bore them, and when they reached
the bank* the mother asked for the child.
W ith much care and tenderness, he placed the
bundifc in her arms; but when she clasped it to
her liosom, no babe was there! It had slipped
from the blauket and the drunken father knew it
not.
A wild shriek from the mother aroused him,
and he turned just, in time to see the little rosy
face rise one moment above the dark waves, then
sink forever 1
The Christian Bauner vouches the truth of this
story.
What a price paid the dru ken father for one
night’s terei! Wh ,t months and years of an
sjuUh to atone, if atone be may. for the debauch
us a few hours! Ttm drowning child !—the shriek
ing mother! Wdl that sight orshrink *-ver Ihj for*
gotten ? What has the future in store for the un
fortunate tiiHiil Gan he look again upon infan-*
i y with any of the gladness which infant innocence
inspires? Or, will he not rruher retreat into son;©
deu or cave of the earth that he may never see
* nother, to call up to his memory the agonieß of
that scene 1
Yet is he not alone.
How .many of ‘ nature’s sweet innocent*” has
the intemperance of fathers murdered | There
was a shriek of anguish which went up to heaven
from Bethlehem as the executors of the foul de
cree of Herod went forth to their bloody work.—
But have not intemperate parents slain their vic
tims with more relentless and cruel band than even
Herod, “that monster ot iniquity f”
Think of it, man. Are you a father ? Is there
a tender babe w hom you prize— dearest of all ?
Js he dearer to you than home, or kindred,, or
even life itself ? Why not dearer than the intoxi
cating draught—why not dearer than h gl-s of
yin, or a bottle of rum ? You may be spares! the
-*iglit which sent a thrill <.f agony to the parent,
who saw his child sinking bentaih the wav* ; but
are you quite sure that you will not leave that
darling one to even a worse fate than this—are
yoli sure that he will not utter the prayer, that he
nad been privileged to escape in childhood from
the caresses of a drunken parent, to share the love
of One whoever careih fur his children ?
Turning from the inebriate, let us say a few
things to those who have made him such—we
mean the sellers of alcoholic liquors.
But how can we say anything to them ? If
they are fathers, and have no pity for the father
less, or for those who are worse than orphaned—
vf they feel not for the totterii g druikrd, the
creature of their own traffic, and feel not for his
“hungry, starving one*” at home, (if home he has)
—if they feei not tor the anxious trembling wife;
for the lutle wanderers, who l>eg their bread frcm
door to door—what language can move them to
compassion ?-—what pungency of appeal can stir
up their s-I umbering souls ?
Are any such professed disciples of C* list ?
Will not the v>oe pronounced upon the destroyers
of “littleones,” be theirs?
Wa speak it in sincerity. We say if, because
we believe it true. The liquor seller, who delib
erately tempts hie fellow to tndulge in drink—and
by that wo mean, the man who holds out a lure
to drink by exposing it to sale—is guilty in the
eye of heaven, if not in the eye of man, of all the
consequences of this aet, and must give an account
thereof-—to llitn who will deal out exact and rigid
justice to destroyer and victim alike.
We ask, then, the price of drinking the intoxi
cating draught.
The answer comes back. To one father, iucost
hie infant boy and a life of agony. And to others,
the cost has been dearer than even this. For, af
i*r a life of anguish and pain, tottering with fee
ble step* to the drunkard's grave, they have eu
lailed upon their children a heritage of shame.
We ask the prioe of selling liquors that intoxv
cate? •
If it bo not much to say that he who has
ruined one immortal soul, deserves to lose his own,
what shall be said of him wbo has reared up a py
ramid of victim* to an unholy, unrighteous traffic,
and who is spending a lifetime in scattering abroad
the seeds of ruin to both soul and and body.
Two years ago the Duke of Grafton changed a
drinking house on one of his estates into a farm
house. The change has worked such an eflVdl on
the neighborhood, that it is now said that Us
Grace intends to close up other driuking houses or
hie estates.