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BSfiil OF THE VflTl tfllflTHf, SMS tfliiniilßH ISilll llifil Os ifJlilS Os Jlfilfllfl.
JOHN 11. SEALS, l
EDITOR & PROPRIETOR.
NEW SERIES, VOL. 11.
THHRM CIUIWH
PC M.ISORO
KVEHV THUKBMY. EXCEPT TWO, IS TH& VRAH,
BY JOHN JFT. SEALS.
T ERMS *,
in advance; or s2,o'"'* at the end of tire year.
RATIOS OF APTERTISINO.
1 square (twelve’ lines or le-) first insertion, - .$1 00
Each continuance, 50
Professional or Burin-s* Garda, not exceeding
nix lines, per year,... 5 00
Announ-nng Candidates for
STAN DING ADVERTISEMENTS.
I square, three m0nth5,............ —.... 5 00
1 square, aix months, - 7 00
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2 squares, “ 44 ..................18 00
is squares, “ “ ..............- -..21 00
4 squares, “ “ ..25 00
%-W Advert i&ements not marked with the cumber
of insertions, will l>e continued until forbid, and
churned accordingly.
ftffi" , Mere.hanfci. Druggista, and others, 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,... 500
%I qf Pergonal property, by Administrators,
isxef-utors, and Guardians, per square, S 26
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 Oft
Citation for Inters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Gu&rdi
ahsbip, 8 26
_ LEGAL EFGUHtICMLNTfi.
skues of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, j
Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be j
hold or. the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours a? ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noeiu at the Court House in the Oouuty in which the
property is situate. Notices of these sales must be
given in a pqblic gazette forty day* previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must he
given at least ter* days previous to the day of sale.
hf.otipp tp Debtors and Cyeditore of an Estate must
he published forty day*.
Notice that application will bo made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to soli Land or Negroes, mart
be published weekly lor tteo month*.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
pubihihcn} ikinty days —for Lftamunon from Admin
tatr&uott, monthly, sir. month*— for Dismission from
G uardia ushi p, forty day*.
ituiea for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles
front Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
be-u given by the deceased, the full apace of three
w -Publications will always be continued accord-1
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwfao
order tub
For the Craa-tder.
Lines on Receiving a Cape Jessamine. j
[dehicated to the givf.r.]
BV EMMIE EMERAU).
Starry Mower, one of thy lovely kind
Hath ever power to awaken dreams
Now broken—and recall to mind
Old days; at sight of thee my heart teems
♦Viih fond memories of the hallowed past
i by gentle perfume steals o’er me e’en
J-iko a siram of mournful music that—alas
Saddens while it pleases, for ’tis the requiem
Os funner joys, that shall n'er be again i ween.
In the first glad spring time of my life
One sunn} morn I held a pearly flower
L'ke unto thee—a flower that to me was rife
With more than earthly beauty and a dower
Was, more precious far thqn heaps of shirffng gold j
For oh, it was tho first sweet gift of love
T'nto a heart that had not then grown old
In sad experience, and valued high above
All other things the tender joys of love.
MKhinks that thev are happiest who weep o’er
Clay cold forms, and grh-ve o’er ties wrenohed away
Ay crUf ! fate; for human hearts are so
Goiusiructed that to the meruory of the dead and
lost, they
Will ever cling, thus preserving in the heart the
myrtle green
Though bv tear-, it may he watered. Yet is it
better to mourn o’er
Hope’s withered and loved ones lost, than be like
they who have seen
Immortal love himself tfooay, and folt tho bitter
throe
That all must feel who know that they can love no
more.
Sweet broken flower, thou art ft fitting emblem
Os human love—as beautiful and as fleeting
Thou bloomed but yaster-morn upon thy parent
stem
The morrow’s evo will see thy leaves all fading,
Yet with a faint perfume still lingering ’round them
Like memory around hearts that once have loved
But Asm by passion’s power no more be moved.
Augusta, Ga.
Tor the Crusader.
Tench not the Bowl.
U V JENNY WOODBINE.
Touch not the bowl—no rosea twiue
Around yon cup of ruby wine;
Though bright its glow, shame and despair
“Like light on graves” lie slumbering there.
Touch not the bowl—a Mother’s prarer
Is echoing sadly on the air—
Oanet choose between her loce, and—wine!
Say shall a drunkard's fate be tbune?
Shall love decay e’en as the oak
Li blasted by the lightning stroke—
And shall the bowl the rival be
Os her who blindly trusts in thee ?
Ohl touch, tonch not the maddening bowl,
Which “steals the brains” and dyes the soul
With blackest crime—and blighte the flowers
Which bloomed so sweetly in life's bowers.
j With painted sign-board high in air,
| Let not yon tempter lure thee there,
; To reel, and sing with drunken shout,
Where men go in, but brutes come out
Touch not the Howl—trer tasto ils wine,
Though Mowers around the gobk-x twine,
A mpent iie.tli coiled beneath
A hideous thing whose nnne is— distil
‘ Bellevue,” Ga
For Una Crusadw.
Heart- History, or Leaves from “Bade
Peters*’ Journal
HY WILLIE JJ&SSAMINE.
“Love is a poarl of purest hue
“But storing waves are Vound it,
v 'Aud dearly nuy a woman rne,
“TUe hour when first she found it”
U W hat in the tale that I would toll? Not one
Os strange adventures, bu a common tale
Os Man’s inconstancy.”
My dear friend a when tins heart, now lacerat
ed by the recollections of the past, shall have
ceased to boat, then ponder over those leaves ami
I earn the secret of my woe? And, when thou
hast discovered its hidden cause, pity ray wayward
ness, crime and folly. Perhaps there may be
some, w’ho with me, have “one fatal rememberanee
-—one sorrow that throws its bleak shade nlike
o’er his joys and his woes,” but, I doubt, if it is
j caused by crime so deep as mine ? As I trace
| these leaves my limbs become tremulous with
emotion, and memory evokes from the Sepulchre
of tho past, the victim of my first Jove! Ohl is
there no Lethean Spring iu wliich I oouid bathe
myself and obliterate the past? Is there no Egyp
tian darkness m which I could hide myself from
thought? ’Thought, a biessii gto some —to me a
curse! Thought, bow 1 deplore thy existence?
Would that I could cease to think—but I can
not!. But to rny crime. “How the spirit clings
to that which once it loved.”
Her form and features I shall ne’er forget, they
are indelibly stomped upon “the enduring tablets
of memory.” She was a tall and graceful form
ed brunette. Her eyas were black and piercing
and such the potency of their spell, that the be
holder would willingly, but durst not, vtroot from
their gaze. Her hair black us the raven’s wing,
fell in beautiful ringlets upton her nook and sliould
•:rs. Lively in person— she was still lovelier in
re .-raws of mind. Site was mild and amiable,
cheerful and devoted, graceful and accomplished,
and ardent, in her attachments. Yes, such whs
Frances Graves. JLpw aqq vyhpu wo met it :
b.4es not. But we met and—loved. We laved,
yea, madly loved. She was “gay sixteen” and I
in manhood’s youthful flush. All the passions of
her soul seemed u> concentrate into one current,
and nothing proa {Ki h barrier to its onward pro
gress. I loved her, ardently, devotedly and (as
I then thought) sincerely. 1 loved her, big not
with the fpryqr t];at she reciprocated it, for that
were impossible—it were beyond my nature. —
Little did I then think that i should ever be tore
od to acknowledge that
“Our first young lovo resembles
“That short am! brilliant ray,
“Which smileg and weeps and trembles,
’‘Through April’s earliest day.”
We were melancholy when apart, joyous and j
happy when in each others presence.. Twus not
long ere the promised, yes, was the ro-ponse to
tho thrilling enquiry: “Will you unite your fate
with mine,” Hope crowned our future with un
fading wreaths, and happiness seemed written on
our pathway. Six months would intervene, be
fore 1 c >uid call her-—wife, and she assumed its
duties and privileges. But for six months would
we be separated; a long-deferred visit to an es
teemed aunt in Carolina has to be paid, ere tho
blissful time arrived. But hop# ehy rod and
animated us. Ere we separated—ere the last j
tond embrace—ere the parting kiss —did we re
new our vows. I .tit le did I then know the base
ness of my own heart, or of the deception hidden
there. 1 not only deceived her, but I deceived
myself. The sigh breath’d farewell was uttered.
“D<> not forget me” was her parting prayer* —
“May Heaven s retribution fail upon my guilty
soul, if I forget thee, or prove recreant to our
vows,” was my response. She left, and the Sun
that had illuminated the inmost reco-aes of mv
heart, though fled, lost none of its power. My
imagination seemed to dwell with her. She was
die great centra! Sun of my nxi itence, around
which, I, as a lesser Satellite, revolvo.l ? Scarceiv
a mail arrived or departed, but was laden with
some sweet message of love, to or from each oth
ea. Oh 1 what transports filled my breast, when
I received from her, “the herald of her thoughts”
a letter. It maddened me with rapture * * *
********
A change came over me. The Demon of doubt
entered, and took possession of my brain. Sought
I consolation from friend, they would soothe me
with “woman’s false as water.” Sought I the
Toets for consolation, I would find them proclaim
ing “woman’s vows like words engraven on the
sandy beach.” Where’er I sought consolation I
would find woman esteemed as fickle and incon
stant. I not only doubted Acr love, bub J began
to doubt my own. I doubted nod I was lost.—
PENFIELI). GA, THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1857.
Her Letters, though breathing affection in every
line, I answered not. Thy appeared deeper proofs
of her inconstancy. Desperation succeeded doubt.
I tried to flee from myself. I deserted compan
ions, friends, residence, and sought “a lodge in
Home ‘an wilderness some ofshade”
where I might ne’er behold the face of man or
woman more. I found h dre.uy place “far from
the busy haunts of man,” and embraced its shel
ter. II ere I wandered for mouths unconscious of
passing events and tlie future. I knew
nothing for madness had succeeded desperation.
*******
When I awoke to consciousness, Iliad Ijeen
the inmate of a Lunatic Asylum for nearly three
rnontlih. The keeper informed me of the terrible
condition Iw; in, wheu I was discovered, I was
without clothing of any description. Every pur-
Bcle of hair upon my head I had torn out by the
roots. My finger mob-had grown to an enormous
length, I made both day and night hideous by
my loud ami uneajtldy yells. Wild beasts fled
in terror at my approach. My captors had to
fight valiantly to secure me. 1 yielded but to su
perior numbers. To me the past w?*s like a
dream. Gradually recollection retumed, and witii
it, bitter pangs of remorse. Soon I recovered so
as to enable me to bid adieu to the Asylum. I
launched out into the gayeties of life, but it
eb; trined me not. Beauty possessed no power o’er j
me, for u onw, my heart was warm with everv
feeling, but beau tie’s self had ceased to charm,” a
w retch like me.
One day, on visiting the post-office, I found a
letter addressed to me, and dated several months
previous. It was from her, clothed in affection’s
purest language and beseeching me to come quick
ly if I desired to see her before she left this “vale
of tears.” Yes, she was dying of a—broken heart.
Her pure affection had been ruthlessly driven
back to its native fountain. Yes, with “peace lost
and heart withered,’ she on a bed of suffering
lay, slowly ripeuing for the tomb. Yes, “a sweet
light had been cast upon her life, but to make its
darkness the more terrible.” Yet, she had sent
ter the author of all her misery and suffering to
see her Indore she died.
fob 1 what anguish wrung my soul, as I thought
that on; this, she bad been numbered with the
dead. 1 determined to pay a pilgrimage, at laast,
to her tomb, and water her grave with tears of
penitence,
Fprlng was then in all her glory, a thousand
flowers spread out by the benificeut hand of God
charmed trie eye and breathed their fragrance up
on the air. The Earth was robed in a mantle of’
the richest green', and all nature appeared joyous
and happy. The choral songsters of the grove
from their sylvan retreats sent forth a chaunt of
gladness and of praie. Ail appeared in striking
contrast to me. 1 felt desolate and wretched, and
the general happiueas but cast a deeper, duiker
glow over me.
I arrived ere it was too late. But I was not
prepared for the sight of suffering that met mv
gaze. Pale and languid she lay, while the sunk
en cheek the lustreless eye, and hurried resjiimbou
attested the near approach of the grim monster.
Oh! I have not strength to describe my feelings j
at that moment Teat's tilled my eves as l fell
upon my knees, and with tremulous voice, asked
her “canst thou Forgive a wretch like me?”—
Though feeble in its articulation yet her response
came like a my of sunshine through a misty cloud
upon my soul. Oh 1 how joyously did I linger
upon her, “yes, I forgive thee, dearest” l talked
witii her of the past, of my crime apd folly.—
“Will you not. live fur me,” 1 asked with clicked
utterance. *\)h! diflt I could — but the fiat has
gone forth and 1 must die ere the rising of anoth
er sun. I feel the cold, icy hand of death now
upon my brow, and, chilling every vein.” “Oh!
say not tints” I wildly cried. “Father in Heaven,
for thy beloved Son’s sake, spare her yet awhile”
1 prayed. Calling me close to her tadside, she
whispered “dearest do not repine—for it must be
so, Igo from a world of pain and trouble and
suffering, to a worid of bliss and pleasure, where
I shall see those that have gone before—the
“Saints of all ages” clothed in spotless white, I
shall meet and t>e surrounded by the light and glo
ry’ of that “ Land of pure delight” I know in
whom 1 have placed my trust. I heed not the
approach of death, for it has no sting for me.—
Vee, Jesus l 'has made my dying bed, feel soft as
downy pillows are.” Farewell —farewell—seek
God—obtain his pardon—place your hope upon
the finished Work of Ilis Sou —and meet —me —
in—Heaven.” Thus she sank to rest at the dose
of day. Heaven was her theme ;s she expired.
The sun was hiding himself behind the Western
horizen, while his departing glory tinted the dra
pery of the skies with carmine and with gold.—
He departed in magnificence and splendor. How
like the death of the beautiful maiden. Both
were fading. He surrounded by the brilliancy of
h’sown light She radiant with joy of Heavenjy
bliss, while the Sun of Righteousness illuminat
ed her pathway and shed a halo of, immortal glo
ry around her death-bed. She died in the midst
of Spriug, and breathed her last mJN Finger op-
on the Dial of Time proclaimed another day niun
- bored with the past
I saw her remains placed in the receptacle for
the dead, and planted- flowers upon her grave,
watering them with team of affection and peni
tence! I resolved to obey her parting wish. I
sought God and found him preeieous to my souk
*******
My friends, take warning by my exnmp’e and
never betray the trust reposod in you by some
gentle one. Believe not the idle tale of woman’s
inconstancy'. I nave bud unerring proofs of her
strong, unchanging truth. You had better with
Fanny Kemble—
“Trust all and be- deceived,
“And weep this trust and that deceiving,
‘Than doubt one heart, that, if believed,
“Had blessed one’s life with true believing.
“Oh! this mocking world —too fast
“The donbting fiend o’ertakes our youth I
“Better be cheated to the last,
“Thau lose the blessed hope of Truth.”
Remember that “it is not all of life to live,”
and live to be an ornament to Society—cot like
me Creation’s foulest blot—a blank.
Augusta, Ga.
Elassa CaretJi for Me,
A True Sketch.
BY KTRK ;
Another of Eternity's Hope , Ac.
It was a dreary night; one that will long be
remembered in the city of Philadelphia. The
stormy elements raged a tearful warfare with un
paralleled fury. A besom of and eolation swept over
the cite, and ihe affrighted citizens trembled with
fear. Tho heavetik put on a dull g-ey garment,
and the qu verirg lightning sported fearfully iu
tho dim horizon, hhowers ofgrav. 1 and sand
were whirled in dense clouds in ev, ry direcrion.
The gambler, who had pledged his last dollar,
gazed wildly as he held the park of cards in hfe
trembling hands; the drunkard became almost a
sober man ; the sinner, who for three score yea is
or more had revelled in the midst of plea-tire and
rioted in the halls of dissipation, became fearfully
alarmed ; the wealthy merchant, who lov and his
conn ing-rootn better than his Creator, gasned
eonvu sively iu the mid-t of a long column < f fl<y
ures, as lie shuddered to appear bes. re his Judge ;
tiio woildlv preacher, prejiaring a sermon which
he intended to deliver on the coining Sabbath with
much eloquence to a crowded auditory, fell to his
knees, lasliod by the sfcmgs of a guilty conscience I
Butin the midst of all this woe, and ruin, and dis
may—when lofty trees, and splendid churches, and
vast store-houses were tumbling iu ruins, was tlu re
no bright spot, no rejoicing?
Hark ! In a narrow street, through a dismal
court, within a tottering doorway, and up three
pairs of rough, rotten stairs, from the confine! walls
of an old building, a voice, low and ft eh], is heard.
A poor colored woman—one of God’s creature-',
who r ftimes are sold as if tlrey were brutes—is in
that room. She is there on her bended knees,
with God’s word before her. Is she alarmed?—
Doth terror strike her dumb; are her lips motion
less ; is her tongue palsied with tear ?
Listen ! Methinks I hear a song—a sweet song,
as it trembles upon the night wind—
“And let this feeble body fail.
And itt it taint or die,
M soul shall quit this mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high.”
Do you bear that song, sung there in that
quaint chamber-home, while the heavens above
are of inky blackness and the earth beneath secure
rocked in the lap of the Storm King? The old
negre>a fears not, “Why should she . She lias
built her house upon u rock, and now ti e winds
blowq the storm frown*, the hurricane sweeps all
before it, still she—God’s humble chi id—uuterri
fied, sings on.
IJappy woman, how we envy you. Oh, Lad
we such a peace. Listen once mere—the song is
finished, and behold! now she praye h. Give
heed to the closing words of that prayer, uttered
in the simple, unadorned language of a child of
Africa. “l)is chile fear no el il, fur massa careth
fur her.” Is that true? Tell me ye man of wealth
whose ship wonder over the broad bosom of tlie
mighty deep ; tell me ye miser who loves to he.tr
the rattle of your yellow gold ; tell me ye profli
gate whose sole purjx>se is tlie barter of female
virtue, is it true; is it? Does God, the mighty
Ruler of the Universe, as he now rides upon the
stormy blasts care for that lone negress ? Oh yes,
yes. I read it in my Bible. I learn tlm tru:h
every where: “He careth for every one of the
creatures He has made.”
A Sod Story of an Erring Young Man . —Wo
have already mentioned in the Journal, the suicide
of a young man named Poindexter, formerly of
Lexington. From Captain Sullivan, of the States
man of which steamer the nrfoitunate victim of
iuteroperaT.ee leaped to find a grave for all his er
rors beneath the placid Ohio, we learn that Poin
dexter called him aside on the guards of the boat,
placed a ring and note iu his band, wert aft and
immediately disappeared overboard. The follow
ing is the note:
Farewell, father and mother, brother and sister,
lam tired oi rny life, Benjamin Franklin Weigh
ert, the penitentiary thus from Lexiigion, Ky., is
the cause ol this. Good bye friends.
A. N. POINDEXTER.
Lexington, Ky.
My youngest brother, beware of your campany,
and the bottle.
We have scarcely ever Reen anything of more
touching simplicity. It is the dying wail of a bro
ken heart—the last pulse of shattered manhood—
solemn woixls of warning from the very portal of
the tomb—the “good bye” of an affectionate child
to parents who had nestled his infancy and nur
turn! his boyhood, and hoped great and noble
thingsqof his manly eontest in the battle of life.
.The friends of the deceased can obtain the ring
and note at this office.*—’ LmisvilU Journal,
**te •
Tho Man of Pleasure.
The following graphic portrait of the “Man of
Pleasure” is token from u sw moo on ‘‘Christian
Manhood,” doivered in New York Ly Rev. Mr.
Cuyfer:
“I trust lit at no young mao here will need to be
warned against'that wretchedly fak-idea of “rnan
hoid” which re so rife in certain circles of this
million-peopled city. The counterfeit manhood of
an oath and a cigar—a bottle of brandy, and a
pack of cards—a box in the theater, and a bet on
the rooe course. Hundreds of young men are
constantly aspiring to such badges of social noldlb
ty as these ! ou may see ambitious youths, or
der.ng, with consequential swagger, their wine
suppen? at the fashionable ‘hells.’ You may de
tect thorn at-the ra*dnig>t hour pulling the belle
of haunts of infamy, and whispering false name*
through the iron lattice; you may discover an in
fidel book in their trunks, locked* up with an ob
scene picture, a revolver, a sporting calendar, and
—no Bible,
“Young women’ beware of Buch social serpents
as these. They will enter your houses as their
father entered Edm, on y to seduce and destroy.
New York has her full share of these characters •
tiiev p*es for ‘men of gallantry,’ ‘men of spirit,’
‘intn of pleasure.’
“Every row and tlren there is a tremendous ex-
plode?) in our community, which b’ows off the
covering and lets us a’l look in upon the rotten
heflrt of n certain style of city life. During the
last week we have all been looking in with loath
ing and with consternation. We hare stood in
the chamber whose walls were bespattered with
blood, aid have seen the bitter end of a career
which cast off tho sw*-et restraint of domestic pu
rity for the polluting carcass of the ‘strange wo
man.’ We have seen a remarkable cluster gath
vi-ed around that corjrse amid hysterical tears and
ill timed merriment,
“We have seen the unblushing courtezan testi
f\ing against the‘man of pleasure,’ who had flung
her aside for other spoil; the officer of justice
swearing to scenes of broil and bitterness in a
’ house where God s law of marriage bad been tram
pled under foot, u<i amid such surroundiuga we
can descry some tet fresh from the family altar
of a rural home. Who did that deerl of darkness
is vet a painful rmsterj ; but it ia quite too eer
t in that there had been foul murder done to con
science and to char icter within those walls long
before tlie garrotter's noose was slipped and the
assassin’s p igcard driven to the heart. Heaven
save y* u, my dear young friends, from the hrmn
hood’ of ibertinism ! And Heaven save our great
metropol's, win nis Brussels carpets come to be
stained with blood, and the quiet of i*B stateliest
stre ts is broken by the midnight shriek of mur
der !”
Adulterated Liquors.
The reeeut death of a young man in Brampton,
Canada, from tasting the “essence of brandy,” with
which he was manufacturing Cognac, and therev
e’atiuii of the fact that fttnclu iire is largely used
in tlie manufacture of whisky, has awakened some
attention to the nature of the.drinks which are
sold for pure spirits. Brandy, g'n wine and wdiis
ky are so adulterated that comparatively little
pure liquor can be purchased. Most < f the bran
dies are a mixture of diabolical ingredients, caus
tic enough to barn oak chips, to say nothing of
the tissues of the human body. The Springfield
Republican says:
“No secret is made of tills business. The dnig
deah-rs of New- York advertise openly the com
pounds by means of which tire vile imitations of
spirituous liquors are made. A circular from one
of those drug houses informs the world that bran
dv number one—the best sort, we take it—is
made of the ‘oil of brandy.’ a poisonous ether, oil
of bitter almond*, (as poisonous as prussic acid)
ethereal wine, alcohol, sugar and Malaga wine.—
No. 2. Oil ot brandy, acetic ether tamarinds, cher
ty jifice, sugar, all colored with burnt sugar.—
No. 3. Gil of brandy, ethereal oil, bitter almonds,
elder flowers, and tannin. No. 4. Oil of brandy,
acetic ether, 01, peach and alcohol. Gin—Oil
angelica, oi! of jumper rum, essence of lemon, salt,
syrups, and water; if smokiness is required, add a
few drops of craxotte, caustic potash. The cirular
advises manufacturers to use ‘with discretion’ tain
arinefe, French plums, cherry juice,, brown cherry,
oak shavingq, tincture of catechu, powdered char
coal, black tea, ground rice and other ordinary’
materials, well known to distillers and rectifiers.—
We should advise drinkers to use th&sft villainous
mixtures with discretion—and throw them into
tlie gutter.”
The adulteration of liquors is carried on as large
ly abroad as in this country, and the custom-house
brand is no gitaran’y of purity Thousands of
pipes of raw spirits are annually exported from
this country to be returned in the shape of wine,
brandy, <fcc„ which contains not a trace of grape
juice.
A Child's Eloquence. —During a revival in
home full of what she had seen and heard. Sit
ting at table witii the family, she asked her father,
who had been to Church, but was a very wicked
man, whether he ever prayed. lie did not like
the question, and in a vrv angry manner replied,
“It is your mother, rr your aunt Sally, that put
you up to that, my 1 tile giri.” “No papa,” said
the little cie dure, “the preacher said, all the good
peofle prey, and those who do not pray, ain’t
going to Heaven. Pa, do you pray ? This was
more than her father cou’d stand, and in a rongh
way he said, “We’l, you and your mother, and
your aunt Sally, may g-> your way, and I will go
mice.” “Pa,” said the little creature whh sweet
simplicity, “which wav are you going?” This
question pierced his heart. It flariied upon him
that he was in the way of death. He started from
his chair, burst inlo tears, and immediately began
to cy for mercy. Within a few days he was a
happy convert, and IheVevehe will appear in heav
en as a star in his little daughter’s crown of re
jotciog.
C TERMS:
1 $1 In advance* or, $2 at the end of the year.
< OO
f JOHN H. SEALS
V PROPRIETOH.
VOL XXIIL-NOMBER 28.
Thomas Earrrington Macon ley. — Mr. Reah.
the London correspondent—of the Inverness,
says:
“There ia a common pedestrian of London streets
well known to all who are acquainted with thejr
notabilities. He is a short* stout, sturdy, energetic
man. He has a big, round face, and large, staring
and very bright hazel eyes. His hair is eut shorr,
and his hat flung back on the crown of h>s h ead.
His gait is firm and decided, with a little touch of
promposity.
“He is ever provided with an umbrella, which
he swings and flourishes, and battles on the pay
ment with mighty thnbs. He seems g nera Iv ab
sorbed io exciting and impulsive thought, the
tracea of which he takes no pains to cone al. 11 is
face works, his lips move and mutter, his eyes
gleam and flash. Sqcat as in h!s fligure, and u< t
particularly fine thefeatures, there is an uninistake
abie air of mental power and energy, approach rg
to grandeur, about the man. lie is evidently under
the influence of the strong excitement of fiery
thought. People gaze curiously at him, and st< p
to stare when he has passed, but he 1 eeds no
one—seems, indeed, to have utterly forgot:eu that
he is not alone in his privacy, and pushes on, un
witting of the many who Btare and smile, or < f the
few who 6tep respei-tfully aside, and look with cu
riosity and regard upon Thomas Barrington Mi.
cauley.
Occasionally, however, the hi tori ,n an<l tfo po t
gives srill freer vent to the mental imp Us w. i h
appear to be continually wotk ng win,in hi i*. A
friend of mine lately recogmzed him timing re
tire coffee-room of the Travalgar Ho.tl. at Gr en
wich—a fashionable white bait-home, which ii ap
pears, he frequently patronizes. IU was alone, as
he generally is, and the attention of more than o ie
of the company was attracted by his p cul ar mu'-
teringand fidgetiness, and by the n u'e ge tmes
with which he ever and anon illus'rate hi- diemi
inf*. All at once—it must been *oaeds
] tht ciimax of the prose or ver>e which he s
v., rhir-g np in his mind, Mr. M,.chu ! >- , seized -i m .*
Bive decanter, held it an oirnnt su feixlel tr the
sir, and then dashed it down upon tie table with
such hearty good w 11, that the solid crystal tlew
abont in fragrmnts, while the num rous parties
dining round instinctively started up and stared
at the curious sconoclast. Not a whit put < ut,
however, Mr. Macauley, who was well known t>
the waters, ca led loudly for his hill to be made
out at the bar, and then, pulling with a couple of
jerks, his hat and umbrella from the stand, clapped
the one carelessly on his head, and strode out tlour
i.-diing the other.”
A Beautiful Chwsicol Allunion. Mr. Wiri
throp, of Massachusetts, in his tulduss *t the Mti
sicial Festival in Boston last week, allude* to die
contemplated submarine telegraph in th.se wr.tds:
“On Christmas Eve, in the tear 1814, ti e Trea
ty of Pence between England and the L iit.il
States was sign.d at Ghent—a won by commem
oration of that blessed event, when the"!lerald An
gels were heard sirgit g to the shepheids on the
plains of Beibl-hem, ‘Peace on earth, good will
towatds men.” But that Meaty wa uoikroen
on this side of the ocean f r s x < r ‘even weehs af
ter the date. The gnat bat le of N w Orleans, as
you well know, was fought at least two we.k*f
ter that treaty of peace was sign and. Onr m d> rn
system of railroads and steamers and telegraphs
might, have t-av.d that effusion of fraternal l>!< od
—might have deprived individual her e<,
our country of its history, of all the gl- n which
Itelonged to that really great victory. If that gi
gantic Ocean Harp, which is at tins moment in
process of being strung, whose d.ep and apas-on is
des ined to produce a more manual music on the
sea than mythol gy or modern fable ever ascrib. and
to siren, mermaid, or Arion ; if the mysterious gi
mut of that profound submarine chord had been
in succes-ful operation then, as we hpe it *oon
will be, between St. Jehn sand Valetine Bay, tbo e
cotton-bag ramparts at New Orlettns rn'g-.t never
have been celebrated in history; while of ilio-e
who so gallantly defended them many would have
boen laid so low, and some peihaps would not
have risen so high.”
4>
The Drop of Water, the Brook , the Hirer, and
the Ocean —A drop of water, that sparkled like a
jewel in the sun, once fell from the clouds in a lit
tle mountain stream, and ere it lost its identity,, ex
claimed in all the angnish of desolation, “A! is l
what a catastrophe. lam swallowed up in im
mensity.” The stream laughed, as it leaped down
the mountain side, at the lamentation ot such an
insignificant thing as a drop of water, and vain of
its consequence, continued brawling its crystal way
with all the pride of conscience superiority, ui.tl
length, with a sudden plunge, it fell headlong tnto
a mighty river, and hke the drop of water, was
lost in a moment, crying our in its last agonies,
**o fate, who would have thought a brook of mv
size could be swallowed so easily!” The’ rivtr
murmured its contempt for the little foolish stieam,
and continued its course, gathering strength and
pride, and breaking through mountains, tearirg
rocks from their seats, and coursing in a thousand
meanders through flowery meadows, until it found
its way to the vast and melancholy ocean in whose
boundless waste it lost its being, like the moi.Uin
stream. “Is itposible, exclaimed the mighty river,
that I have been thus collecting tribute from half
the world, only to become not lung at last ?”
“’Tis thus with tl cental)!’ Th< u begiunest
in insignificance, like the drop of water; tb< u 1-
comeßt a laughing, leaping, brawling thing like
the brook, thou waxo-t proud and gr. a*, like the
mighty river; and ere thou canst sty, in th- v-n
---ity of thy heart, “whatan i lustrtiou-* mortal I am,’
thou art in eternity;
MPAlpbonze Kar alleges that epochs in a wo
man’s life are frequently marked by dress. Women
vvisl, for instance, often say that such a thing hap
pened when they bought a particular article of cos
tume. Thus: “I recollect perfectly well when Mrs.
.torn* took her third husband; Charles gave me my
ermine tippet at that time.” Mrs. W Hiatus was bap
tized and confirmed just one year ago last January,
for l bought my blue velvet dress that month.”—
“Old Mrs. Pope died last Wednesday six monthp,
for I got my oamel’s-hair shawl on the day of the
funeral.”