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JOHN 11. SEALS, ?
EDITOR & PEOPEIETOE. (
NEW SERIES, VOL. 11.
TEMPER.*! CRUSADER,
PUBLISHED
EVERY THURSDAY, EXCEPT TWO, IK THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. SEALS.
TERMS I
SI,OO, in advance; or $2.00 at the end of the year.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
1 square (twelve lines or Icfs) first insertion,. .$1 00
Each continuance, - -—■ - - SO
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office,... 3 00
STANDING ADVERTISEMENTS.
I square, three months, 5 00
- 1 square, six months, 7 00
1 square, twelve months, 12 00
2 squares, “ “ o? nn
3 squares, “ “ H no
4 squares, “ “ 25 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and
charged accordingly.
Druggists, 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,
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 325
Notice to Debtors and Creditors,
Notice for Leave to Sell, - 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 8 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENTS.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, 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-
T 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 published forty 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.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly, six months —for Dismission from
Guardianship, forty days.
Ttules 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 deceasod, the full space of three
months.
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
DIRECTORY.
.... KING & SONS,'"’
Factors & Commission Merchants* and For
warding: Agents.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
W. KING, SR. | MCL. KING. | W. KING, JR.
Nov. 22, 1856. 46
WE SEABROOft LAWTON,
($200,000 Cash Advances on Produce.)
UPLAND AND BEA ISLAND COTTON, FLOUR AND GRAIN
FACTOR,
FOR WARDING dt COMMISSION MERCHANT,
No. 36, Fast Bay, Charleston, S. C*
Feb. 19 8
D* H. SANDERS,
A TTORNEY AT LA W,
ALBANY, GEORGIA,
Will practice in the counties of Dougherty, Sumter,
Lee, Randolph, Calhoun, Early, Baker,
Decatur and Worth.
Jan. 1 ly 1
WHIT G. JOHNSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Augusta, Ga.
WILL promptly attend to all business entrusted
to his professional management in Richmond and the
adjoining counties. Office on Mclntosh Street, three
doors below Constitutionalist office.
Reference —Thos. R. R. Cobb, Athens, Ga.
June 14-ly
JANIES JIROWN.
A TTO RJTJE V A T LA W\
FANCY HILL, MURRY CO., GA.
April 80th, 1867.
WE GIBSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
After fifteen years’ practice, has permanently loca
ted in
AUGUSTA, GA.
Will attend the Courts in Richmond, Warren, Co
lumbia, Burke, Jefferson and Lincoln counties.
{tjjf’Office corner Campbell and Broad-streets.
May 24, 1856. 20
~ PHILLIP B. ROBINSON,
A TTORNEY AT LAW ,
GREENESBORO’, GEORGIA.
Will practice in the counties of Greene, Morgan,
Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliaferro, Hancock,
Wilkes and Warren.
July 5, 1856. ly 25
ROGER L. WHIGHAM, - “
A TTO REE Y AT LAW,
Louisville, Jefferson coGa.
WILL give prompt attention to any business en
trusted to bis care, in the following counties:
Jefferson, Burke, Richmond, Columbia,
Warren, Washington, Emanuel,
Montgomery, Tatnall and
Scriven.
April 26, 1856.*-tf ;
LEONARD T. DOTAL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
McDonough, henry co., ga.
Will practice Law in the following counties, to-wit:
Henry, Spaulding, Butts, Newton, Fayette, Fulton,
DeKalb, Pike and Monroe. Feb 2—4
” 11. T. PERKINS,
A TTORNEY AT LA JT,
GREENE3BORO’, GEORGIA,
WHI practice 1n the counties of Greene,-Morgan,
Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliaferro, Hancock,
Wilkes and Warren.
Feb. 12 ft 9 7
For P,e Crusader.
M.A I DE.
BY MARY BRYAN.
In the bright pavilions of the East
The Morning sits in state,
Waiting the herald song of the Lark,
Ere she opes her pearly gate;
While in the valley—veiled in mist—
Sleep the gray of dawn,
Yet Maude is out in the dewy fields,
Singing amid the corn.
The joy, that thrills through her simple song
Is melody sweet to me,
And she seems, in that softly colored light,
A picture fair to see.
The rose: hue of the morning clouds,
Her cheek more deep’y dyes ;
And her hair is wreathed with fresh field flowers,
Blue as her beautiful eyes.
And her form, in its simple rustic garb,
Has a sweet and artless grace,
While the joy, that swells her young heart, breaks
Like a sunbeam o’er her face,
Illumining cheek, and lip, and brow,
And bright’ning each golden curl,
Till a vision of light and loveliness
Seems the blue eyed Peasant girl.
And well do I know the pure sweet source,
Whence these heart suhbeams flow,
For often she pauses in her song,
And thrillingly and low,
“ To-morrow! to-morrow !” says o’er and o’er
With an air of timid pride,
And the blushes soft, that come and go
Betray her a destined bride.
♦ •■******
She has parted the nodding plumelike maize,
All hung with the pendant dew,
And now, through its vistas green and cool,
She lightly glides from view—
And the olden shadow comes and takes
Its wonted place at my side,
And I press my hand to my throbbing brow,
And regardless all of pride.
I feel that I’d gladly barter all, *
Each gift, that I now possess,
For a tithe of Maude’s sweet earnest hope
And guileless trustingness.
Aye, Maude, I would don thy garments coarse,
Go forth with the winds of morn,
Most cheerfully heap the fragrant hay
And sew Poppys mid the corn.
Bear bravely, poverty, toil, and want,
As day after day glides on,
Could it but the calm of peace restore,
And the faith forever gone;
But the shadow! the shadow ! ’tis ever here
With its haunting voice of sorrow.
Oh ! would I could tint with thy rainbow hopes
My sad and dark “to-morrow.”
Thomasville, Ga.
The Only Gentleman.
“Adhesive plaster, Miss Wilson ? Were you
asking me for adhesive plaster ?” askecl Clara
Stanhope, glancing carelessly at a young gill who
was making loud lamentations over an almost
imperceptible cut in one of her pretty white fin
gers.
“Yes ; have you any in your work-box, Miss
Stanhope ?”
“No, my work-box is not a medicine chest .;
hut here is Lieutenant Grey—he would do very
well. He possesses all the qualities of the best
adhesive plaster ;it is almost impossible to get
rid of him.” And the spoiled beauty ended her
rude speech with a clear and ringing laugh.
Miss Wilson looked am*z and, and the poorlieu
tenant, after trying in va ; n to join in Miss Stan*
hope’s merriment, walked away.
“That is the seventh gentleman you have of
fended within the last four weeks,” sai 1 Mrs. Lee.
“But Mr. Grey is so dreadfully tiresome, Mrs.
Lee !—he wore out my patience long ago. Since
I came here, he lias done nothing but keep up a
perpetual smiling and bowing at everything I said.
Wherever I turned, I saw him, and no matter
whom I spoke to, he answered. I could not en
dure it a moment longer ; and besides, I confess
it is a great pleasure to me to say a cutting thing
to conceited people.”
“You should remember, though, what Shetidan
says, soroewheie, ‘Let your wit he as keen as your
sword, hut as po ished, too.’ That latter epithet
would hardly apply to all your severe remarks.”
“People of a family like ours ” said Mrs Stan
hope, coming to her daughters assistance, “are
above the conventionalists that ordinary persons
hedge themselvfs.about with. We are related
to many noble famines; among others, to the
Duke of Rutland : my mother was a Manners ;
and on my husband’s, the Duke of Northumber
land is a relative of ours ; and l have lately dis
covered that Robert Bruce was an : ancestor of
mine in a direct line.”
“Then I suppose w.e musij, pay you infinite res
pect,” said Mrs. Lee. “But still 1 think if Miss
Stanhope would only consider the feelings of
these gentlemen ”
“Gentlemen !” said Mrs. Stanhope, with her
usual impetuosity. “Do you call these persons
about here gentlemen ? According to my under
standing of that mach-perverted word, there is but
one gentleman in the house.”
“And who may he be ?” asked Mrs. Lee, who,
being a widow? did not feel herself called upon to
resent this sweeping denunciation.
“I do not know his name,” replied Mrs. Stan
hope ; “buthe is that tall, elegant-looking man
who sils just opposite me at table.”
” “What, the one who comes in and gnos out
without addressing a word to any ette, ” said
Mr*. Lee—“who is *6 exquisitely particular in his
dress, and in whatever be drigns to eat or drink
-r-makes great parade about bis wine and all
PENFIELD, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1857*
the little et caeteras, and gives tue waiters more
trouble ill n any oilier ten persous ?”
•‘I have not observed all that,” said Clara ; “but
I must say he is my beau-ideal of a Ligh-brtd
gentleman. 5 ’
“And I must say, my dear, that I think you
will find out before luig that you have made a
great mistake,’* said Mrs Lee,
“Do you know anything about him V* inquired
Clara.
“Only that he gave his Dame as Manners,” re
plied Mrs. Lee.
“Manners ?” exclaimed Mrs. Stanhope ; “per
haps he is a relation of the Duke of Rutland’s.
I will ask him to day.”
“But, mamma, you do not know him,” said
Clara.
“I will introduce myself to him, said Mrs.
Stanhope. “People of a family like ours can take
such liberties without being misinterpreted.”
This conversation took place in the drawing
room of a fashionable hotel at the sea side, where
people prided therofdves on their exclusiveuess
and fancied that they added greatly to their own
importance by refusing to reeognise those who
sat, each day, beside them, if they did not chance
to be members of their own circle.
Clara Stanhope was a remarkably fiine-looking
girl, with a spirited, dashing, and even daring
look and manner, always cool and unembarrassed
even when she was saying the most astonishing
things; and with a laugh, whose clear and silvery
melody, somewhat loud though it was, ofteu be
guiled those who were suffering from her mer
ciless sarcasm into joining her merriment.
Mrs. Stanhope, panoplied by her reliance on
her “family,” graciously condescended to take the
initiative in making the acquaintance of her vis
a-vis at table. “Might she ask,” she said, with a
how as stately as that of any Castilian dame, “if
he were of the same family as the Duke of Rut
land r
With an equally stately how, and a calm indif
ference of manner, that showed him to he a true
born aristocrat, Mr, Manners replied in the affirm
ative, and Mrs. Stanhope continued, with an air
as though she were eonfering an immense favor,
“Then, I must claim you as a relative, for we are
members of that illustrious house.”
Mr. Manners merely bowed ; the favor was re
ceived, as unrequested gifts often are, as though
the acceptance was somewhat of an infliction. But
this indifference only heightened the admiration
of Mrs. Stanhope and her daughter. If he had
courted them they might have treated him with
their usual haughtiness ; but keeping them as he
did in the position they first assumed as appli
cants for his notice, they showed him, underneath
their customary arrogance, a constant deference
and attention.
“I am happy to have found relatives where I
thought I had none,”said the gentleman, as he
arose from the table w ith a 1 mguid air, as though
he felt it incumbent on him to say something,
but thought it quite a bore.
“What a coxcomb V h said one gentleman to
another.
As days passed by, Mr. Manners relaxed some
what from his cold abstraction of manner, aud
condescended to converse. It was evident that
Clara Stanhope felt more pleased by liis atten
tions, few and slight as they were, than she cared
to confess. The casual remarks he dropped influ
enced her strangely. Her laugh, that had at
once been the music of the house ,grew still, and
hushed, and avhs replaced by a tranquil smile.
The change began on the very day that Mr. Man
ners had made the remark, that “no woman with
a loud laugh c uld ever claim to be considered a
lady.”
The gentleman evidently was not aware that
his words contained any personal allusion. Se
veral other sayings of his bad effect on the unres
trained manners of Clara Stanhope. She was
fast becoming subdued and quiet, and even gen
tle. But this transformation could not take place
without being commented on, and the cause of it
closely scrutinized. Thanks to her severe speech
es, she had not a friend in the house, hut many
watchful and criticising observers.
“I believe that Miss S anhope is in love Avith
that Mr. Manners,” said Mr. Grey.
“Do you know who he is ?” asked one gentle
man. j
All answered in the negative, arid then com
menced a general discus-ion and conjecturing.
It was late in the eA'ening : the la lies had all re
tired ; the gentlemen still lingered, wasting more
than an hour in fruitless surmising*. The only
fact that was clearly establ shed was that there
was some mystery connected with Mr. Manners.
When Ikdies gossip, there is a vague uiictr
tainty in their utterances. There are inuendoes,
hint*, wise looks, compressings of tire lips, and
shakings of the head ; but all these amount to
but little; the world needs something definite to
rest on, and so it shuts its eyes resolutely against
the cloud of smoke, and if the fire is w ell hidden
takes no heed of it. But when the sterner por
tion of the race put their Avise heads together,
and they are not so slow to do it as they would
wish us to believe, of it. From
that evening’s discussion there sprang up in the
minds of two or three of the gentlemen —all of
them the victims ts Miss Stanhope’s beauty and
her raillery—a determination to penetrate the
veil with which Mr. Manners had enveloped h m
eeif.
An old lady also had expfeseed a wish to
know “ what that gentleman did for a living ;
for her part, she never felt easy about folks till
she knew what their business was.” But the
lofty scorn with whieh Mrs. Stanhope repelled
the idea of its being necessary for a gentleman to
do anything for a living, quite subdued the old
lady, who said—“l only meant that I have al
ways noticed that those who did not follow any
business, but lived nobody knows how, were dis
reputable, generally speaking.”
‘‘Mr. Manners is a gentlerqan,” said Mrs. Stan
hope. “Oh j” said rite old lady ; aud Mrs Stan
hope looked upon the matter, as settled, though
i| would havebeen hind sos her to teH how she
had made ft out. *
The point, which the gentlemen were bent on
discovering Was the same as that about which the
old lady had expressed such curiosity. One of
the investigators was a lawyer, a keen, shrewd
man—one whom nature and practice had both
combined to make a “detective” of the first order.
In two-or three days Mr. Hilliard (for that was
his name) said to Mr, Grey, “I have discovered
one riling ; Mr. Manners has some regular occu
pation. His very air betrays that as you meet
him in the street ; and no gentleman of leisure
would come in and go out as regularly as he
does.
“While I was reading the paper this morning,”
said Mr. Hilliard to Mr. Grey, about a week af
terwards, “I was struck by a remarkable coinci
dence.”
Mr. Grey opened his eyes wide ; for though he
had, by no means, Mr. Hilliard’s capability of see
ing through a millstone, even when it had no
hole in it, he appreciated all the more highly his
friend’s powers.
“I observed,” contiuued Mr. H’iliard, “that Mr.
Manners engagements —you know he is engaged
three or four evenings in the week to the fashion
able parties of the season, Mrs. Stanhope thinks;—
well, his engagements all occur on the nights
when the Ethiopian Band, give their concerts ;
and also”—Mr. Grey was opening his eyes wider
every minute—“and also at the time when Mr.
Manners went on a litfle trip, the band must have
gone and returned in the same train.”
Here Mr. Giey shut his eyes—a leaction con
sequent upon their having been so long strained to
their utmost limits of expansion.
“Grey, suppose we go to hear the Ethiopian
Band to-night ?” suggested Mr. Hilliard. “They
are said to be very tine singers in their way,”
Mr. Grey consented, and they Avere soon seated
in a corner of the concert-room, where they could
*ee without themselves being seen. When the
troop of serenaders appeared, they scrutinized
them closely. Three of them were in height and
figure very much like Mr. Manners, but so well
disguised were they that it was impossible for
even Mr. Hilliard to decide which one of the tlnee
or whether any one, bore any resemblance to the
gentleman in whom they were so much interested.
Mr. Grey, after having fixed upon each member of
the troop in succession as the individual in ques
tion, at last gave up in despair.
The first part of the concert was over. Amid
outbursts of applause the singers turned to leave
the stage for a feAv minutes.
“Look, Grey ! look at that man with the tam
bourine 1” said Mr. Hilliard, “There he is—the
gentleman himself 1”
Few people think of disguising their backs;
perhaps it would not be so easy to do it ; and so
Mr. Manners was discovered. The secret he had
so carefully kept was his no longer. No one Avho
has not tried it can tell how hard it is to keep a
secret in this age of the world.
If Mr. Manners was especially satisfied Avith a
nything that belonged to himself, it was with his
walk and bearing; erect, stiff, and somewhat pom
pous. That betrayed him.
“There goes the only gentleman Miss Stanhope
has seen !” said Mr. Grey, and he smiled with
malicious satisfaction.
“She must Be6 him in his glory,” said Mr, Hil
liard,
But; Mrs. and Mis3 Stanhope rejected with
scorn the idea of mingling with the crowd of un
distinguished commoners, to listen to such low
and base-born melodies.
“I would not go, nor allow my daughter to at
tend such a placel” said Mrs. Stanhope. “Not
a fit place for ladies, so Mr. Manners says.”
Fortune favored Mr. Hilliard’s purposes. The
very evening after mak ng this assertion, Mrs.
Montgomery Fanslmv called, saying, she had
been persuaded into making up a party for the
purpose of hearing the serenaders, and wished to
know if Mrs. and Miss Stanhope Avould join
them.
It was a kind of amusement particularly agree
able to the young lady, who enjoyed a regular
frolic far more than any staid and proper recrea
tion. She openly expressed a desire to accompa
ny Mrs. Fanshaw ; her mother hesitated, glanced
round the room; then remembered that Mr.
Manners had left a little Avhile before, pleading an
engagement for the evening. Mrs. Fanshaw was
almost a stranger to her ; she was very anxious
to turn their slight acquaintance into an intimacy
—and therefore she ended by consenting.
Os course, Mrs. Fanshaw, with her party, oc
cupied tho most conspicuous places in the con
cert-rooip. After the first half-hour had ne riy
passed, during a short pause in the singing, Miss
Stanhope heard herself addressed. Turning her
head, she found that Mr. Hilliard and Mr. Grey
were sitting behind lur.
A few remarks passed—criticisms on the sin
gers, the audience, and the crowd : and Mr.
Hilliard said, “I Avisb, Miss Stanhope, you would
observe the man with the tamborine. Notice
him as he goes off the stage. He reminds me
very much of Mr. Manners.
“Mr. Manners ! would you compare him to an
Ethiopian serenader ?” said Miss Stanhope, with
her scornful smile.
However, her attention once turned in that
way, Found so much to interest and perplex, that
she could notice nothing else. Wb en he turned
from the audience, the conviction flashed upon
her that the tambourine player was Mr. Manners,
and no one else. One glance at Mr. Hilliard re
vealed to him that the discovery was made, lie
saw ft long whispering conversation between the
mother and daughter. Mrs. Stanhope evidently
refused to believe the story, and she said, at last’
“It is all your imagination, my dear.” But be
fore the evening was over, she too was forced to
acknowledge the truth of her daughter’s discov
ery. She could hardly command herself suffi
ciently to sit through the remainder of the con
cert. Her very dress seemed to share her indig
nation, for it shook and rustled incessantly.
Wheu they met at breakfast tbe next morning,,
it was no difficult matter for Mr. Manners to dis
cover that he bad been recognised. He was
created with cold disdain by both ladies. Silent
contempt was Mrs Stanhope’s forte, and she im
pressed the propriety of the same course of action
on her daughter. But Clara Stanhope belonged
to the class of demonstrative young ladies. Tire
impulse to speak vva9 too strong to l o resisted ;
so she at once remarked?. “I was delighted with
the concert last evening,-Mr. Manners ; yjou nc’.ed
your part most inimitably. You have evidently
not mistaken your vocation.”
“Thank you, Miss Stanhope,” he replied;
“your appreciation of iny poor efforts give me
great pleasure. But allow me to request you to
say nothing to oar-cousin” (with a pro\ r oking em
phasis on the “our”) •‘the Duke of Rutland, of my
present employment. He night not think it a
suitable one for a member of his family.”
A saucy reply was trembling on Miss Stan
hope’s tongue; hut obedient to a glance from her
mother, she closed her rosy lips over it, and fin
ished her meal in silence.
“Manners, indeed !” exclaimed Mrs. Stanhope,
when they were again in their room. “Clara, my
dear, his name is Boggs !—the keen-eyed Mr.
Hilliard found it out.”
From the Register,
Agriculture.
Os all occupations in which man may engage
himself, I think that of cultivating the soil has a
decided preference. Indeed, it constitutes the
source from which we derive our existence. It is
the fountain bead from which all other professions
receive their support. Stop tilling the soil, and
y r ou will at once not only see that destroyed Avbich
makes up the greatness of the land, hut you will
see famine, spreading far and wide, her blighting
influence. Os all callings or professions, none is
more independent than that of the farmer. He
can buy his own labor, supply himself with all that
which is necessary to animal existence; he folloAvs
his plow with a cheerfulness and joy unknoAvn to
others; he toils from the rising of the syn until
the going down thereof, and breathes a pure at
mosphere, Avith no heaviness of heart, or dejected
countenance, but continues his way as merrily as
the songsters of the grove, that ring their sweet
melodies around him. At night his farming im
plements are placed aside, and he retires to the
bosom of his family, where contentment reigns
supreme; Avliere he gathers with his little group
around his own hearthstone, forming a picture,
the very imagination of which itself, giv 7 es pleas
ure. When he retires to wear away the weariness
of the hours of toil by that sweet restorer, sleep,
it is not with the anxious cares, or the disturbed
and uneasy mind of the professional man, hut Avith
a clear conscience he allows himself to be taken
into the sweet embraces of sleep, as it gently takes
possession of him.
Such is the farmers career that he is dependent
for few or none of the necessaries of life. He has
them all at his door, having been prepared by his
OAvn hands. The lawyer is dependent on his cli
ent for a living; the mechanic on his employer;
the physician on his patient, and the merchant on
the patronage of the pnblic, but the husbandman
spreads abroad his seed at the proper time, and
ere long a bountiful harvest smiles before him.—
He fills his gamers with the fruit of the land, and
through his exertions makes himself the great
master-wheel which keeps all other avocations in
motion. And again how beautiful to roam over
the boundless fields of blooming clover, to look
upon the green fields of corn, to see orchards of
ripe fruit, templing one to partake, to pluck the
sweet and beautiful floAvers as one passes along and
linger to take of their odoriferous perfume. And
when one is overcome by the heat of the noonday
snn and worn down with labor, how pleasant to
retire beimath the cool shade trees in front of the
old farirWouse, Avith the clear blue sky and bright
clouds, with their silver linings, gorgeously dis
played to the view. J. W. T.
Wavelier, Va., July 14th, 1850.
Layer Eeer. —There is no more injurious liquor
among our common drinks than lager beer. It
dulls, blunts, and deadens the bodily energies, and
stupifies gradually the faculties of the mind. There
is nothing sound in the body of a habitual krink
er of lager beer. We have lived where fifty
thousand Germans, from the father to the babe,
are full of lager beer every day of the year. We
have seen the little ones of three and four years
who had been nursed on lager beer, toddle into
the bar room and receive their daily allowance
from “fater,” aud then toddle hack. These men
are, f>r the most part, fleshy. But there is noth
ing sound or solid in them. It is pickled, soaked.
It is a dead, rotten, shaky, bloat. An old lager
beer guzzler lumbers along, a great mass of tor
pid puff and sluggish brain. It is a notorious
fact, that a wound made upon this torpid flesh
rarely if ever heals. The slightest incision upon
the hand or face that is thoroughly beer soaked,
will fester and grow. We have seen butchers in
the West vitiated in this way, whom a trivial and
accidental cut upon the finger has laid up for
weeks. Lager beer is slow but sure, and it kills
practically long before death comes.— Worcester
vEgis.
—•——
Extraordinary Family: —A traveler through
Wetzel county, Va., observed that in almost every
precinct there lived three or four families by the
name of Morris, and having some anxie'y to
learn the extent of the family, made inquiry, and
w;-s directed to the mother of the whole tribe for
information, having been previously told that she
still lived, though upward of 94 years of age. He
interrogated the good old lady politely and gently
and succeeded in ascertaining that she was the
mother of twenty-five children, 21 sons and 4
daughters. She has one hundred and twenty-one
grand-children, and one great-great-grand-child,
all with the exception of five dead, two girls and
three boys, now living in the one neighbprhood.
One of her sons has 16 children, one 12 and an
other 11. One of the girls is the mother of 12
children, and another is tbe mother of 13 ; all the
rest of them produced between five and seven. —
Oneuf the sons, who is now quite an old man,
lives within seven miks of the Baltimore and
Ohio Railroad, but never saw a railroad until a
few days ago.— Richmond ( Va.) South.
I TERMS:
1 $1 in advance; or, $2 at the end of the year;
< oo
) JOHN H. SEAI.S
Vi PROPRIETOR.
TOL. XXIH.--NUHBEK 37.
Beautify Your Home.
Every man,should do his best to own a home.
The first money which he can spare ought to be
invested in a dwelling, where his family can live
permanently, Viewed as a matter of economy,
that is important, not only because he can ordi
narily build cheaper than he can rent, but be
cause of the expense caused by a frequent change
of residence. A man who in early life builds a
home for himself and family, will save some thou
sands of dollars in the course of twenty years, be
sides avoiding the inconvenience and trouble of
removals. Apart from this, there is something
agreeable to our better nature in having a home
that we call our own. It is a form of property
that is more than property. It speaks to the heart,
enlists the sentiments and ennobles the possessor.
The associations that spring up around it; as the
birth place of children—as the scene of life’s ho
liest emotion—as the sanctuary Avhere the spirit
cherishes in purest thoughts, are sure as all
value; and whenever their influence is exerted,
the moral sensibilities are improved and exalted.
The greater part of our happiness to-day is in
creased by llie place where we were happy yester
day, and that, sensibly, scenes and circumstances
gather up a store of blessedness for the weary
hours of future ! On this account, we should do
all in our power to make home attractive. Not
only should we cultivate such tempers as serve to
render its intercourse amiable and affectionate, but
we should strive to adorn it with those charms
good sense and refinement so easily impart to it.
We say easily, for there are persons who think
that a home cannot be beautified without a con
siderable outlay of money. Such people are in
error. It costs a little to have a Deat flower gar
den, and to surround your dwelling with those
simple beauties which de.ight the eye far more
than expensive objects, If you will let the sun
shine and dew adorn your yard, they will do far
more for you than any art st. Nature delights in
beauty. She loves to brighten the landscape and
make it agreeable to the eye. She hangs the ivy
around the ruin, and over the stump ot a wither
ed tree tAvines the graceful vine, A thousand arts
she practices to animate the senses and please the
mind? Follow her example, and do for yourself
whijt she is always laboring to do for you. Beau
ty is a dirine instrumentality. It is one of God’s
chosen forms of power. We never see creative
energy witout something beyond mere existence,
and hence the whole universe is a teacher and in
spirer of beauty. Every man was born to be an
artist so far as the enjoyraen t and apppreciation
ot beauty are concerned, and he robs himself of
one of tne precious gifts of his being if he fails
to fulfil this beneficent purpose of his creation.
Pen Drop.
Man—A bubble on the ocean’s rolling wave;
Life—A gleam of light extinguished by the
grave;
Fame—A meteor dazzling with its distant
glare;
Wealth—A source of trouble and consuming
care;
Pleasure—A gleam of sunshine passing soon
away;
Love—A morning-stream whose memory gilds
the day;
Faith—An anchor dropped beyond the vail of
death;
Hope—A lone star beaming o’er the barren
heath;
Charity—A stream meandering from the fount
os love;
Bible—A guide to realms of endless joy above;
Religion—A key which opens wide the gates
of heaven;
Death—A knife by which the ties of earth are
riven;
Earth—A desert through which pilgrims wend
their way;
Grave—A place of rest when ends life’s weary
day;
Resurrection—A sudden waking from a quiet
sleep;
Heaven—A land of joy, of light and love
supreme.
JCST William L. Marcy had no element* of ad
ventitious fame. His whole life is a proof of the
assertion. It was solid, concise, positive matter-of
fact progression in the building up of its own pro
portions—as step by step he ascended by action
and by growth into the concrete reality he himself
had fashioned, and he himself had finished. His
progress was not rapid, hut it Avr.s certain. No
reolian-toned genius gave inspiration to his elo
quence, and no meloeric glow of brilliancy ever
lent its attractions to his career. “Passion never
hjew the gale” that started him on the sea of life;
but elevating himself by the force of his own will
he battled his way into manhood, full of the vigor
of toil, and gained strength Avith trials that made
experience useful to him. Shaping thoughts into
acts, and moulding opportunities into dedicated
privileges which his judgment forced his ambition
to adopt, he stepped at the very morn of life upon
the road to fame. Winning his way into notice,
by a clear appreciation of the genius of labor, and
by assuming to xlo that which the exigencies of
the times required to be done, he made no pause
for the dissipating allurements of youth, and was
attracted by no follies that threatened to dim the
star of promise that was before him. Earning the
means Avhich procured him the advantages of a
collegiate education, ho laid the foundation of his
character in his avill, and began in the start to
be, that which he came to be in the end. S. D.
Dillage.
She teas Caught.—A fashionable young lady
in Syracuse was seen by a clerk in a store in the
Franklin buildings, Thursday afternoon, to slip a
couple of pairs of gloves in her pocket while the
clerk’s back was turned, she forgetting or not
knowing that lie could look into the mirror near
by and see her movements. Then she took anoth
er pair from the clerk, and handed him to pay
f>r it. He gave her $2 change; said he believed
that was all right for three pairs, and bowed the
thunderstruck young lady out of tbe store, blush'’
ing to her eyes.