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HIM 01 THE mu MffilTlOl SOU Os Tlfllll, ill fillfl LIKE Os UNIT!- Os JIM.
JOHN H. SEALS, X
EDITOR St PROPRIETOR.
NEW SERIES, VOL. 11.
fEMRAB CRUSADER..-
PUBLISHED
6YERY THURSDAY, EXCEPT TWO, IN THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. SEALS.
TERMS :
41,00, in advance; or $2,00 at the end of the year.
RA.TES OF ADVERTISING.
square (twelve lines or less) first insertion,. .$1 00
Each continuance, -- - 60
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, - 6 00
Announcing Candidates for Office,. 8 00
STANDING ADVERTISEMENTS.
E square, three months, j> °0
l square, Rix months, ‘ oO
1 square, twelvemonths, ...12 GO
2 squares, “ “ - -.18 00
8 squares, “ “ 21 00
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,... 025
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 16
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 8 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENTS.
gales 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
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.
sules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
fished monthly for four months —for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deceased, the full space of three
■months.
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
DIRECTORY.
Drs* Massey Ac Harris, thankful for the
patronage enjoyed by them the past year, respect
fully announce that they continue to give their un
divided attention to the practice of Medicine in its
various branches. Office—Main-street, Penfield, Ga.
Jan. 12 ly 1
Never Failing Ambrolypes.— The sub
scriber is prepared to take Ambrotypes which will
compare with any in the country. He is now in
Penfield, and will remain until the 15th of February.
Notice will be given whenever a change of place is
made. R. M. FOSTER.
Jan. 15 46
~ “” W. KlNtt & SONS,
Factors k Commission Merchants, and For
warding Agents.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
W. KING, Sft. | MCI.. KING. | W. KING, JR.
Nov. 22, 1856. 46__
WM. SEABROOK LAWTON,
(|200,000 Cash Advances on Produce.)
UPLAND AMD SEA ISLAND COTTON, FLOUR AND GRAIN
FACTOR,
FORWARDING dk COMMISSION MERCHANT,
No. 36, F.ast Ray, Charleston, S. C.
Feb.l9 8
D. H. SANDERS,
A TTORNEY AT LA W,
ALBANY, GEORGIA,
Will practice in the counties of Dougherty, Suinter,
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
JAMES BROWN.
jm tto ft jvje r .1 tjl .j r\
FANCY HILL, MURRY CO., GA.
April 30th, 1857.
ROGER L. WHICH AM,
ATTORNEY AT LAW ,
Jowieville, Jefferson go., Ga.
WILL give prompt attention to any business en*
trusted to his care, in the following counties:
Jefferson, Burke, Richmond, Columbia,
Emanuel,
Montgomery, Tatnall and
Scriven.
April 26, 1856.-tt
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,
QeKalb, Pike and Monroe. Feb 2—4
H. T. PERKINS,
A TTORNEY A T LA W\
QREENESBOBO’, GEORGIA,
WiU practice in the counties of Greene, Morgan,
Putnam, Oglethorpe, Taliaferro, Hancock,
Wilkes and Warren.
Feb. 12 IT 7
! “ “ 1 ‘ '’ ‘ ‘ - “ ‘♦” “ ‘ ‘I? ‘’
THE HEAVEXLT
bp mbs. Aid,sox.
I gazed down life’s dim labyrinth.
A wildering maze to see.
Crossed by many a tangled clew;
As wild as wild could be :
And as I gazed in doubt and dread,
And angel came to me.
1 knew him for a heavenly guide,
I knew him even then: v •
Though meekly as a child he stood
Among the sons of men—
By bis deep spirit loveliness,
I knew him even then.
Again down life’s labyrinth
I grope my way alone,
While wildly through the midnight sky
Black hurrying clouds are blown,
And thickly in my tangled path,
The sharp, bare thorns are sown.
Yet firm my foot, for well I know.
The goal cannot be far,
And ever through the rifted clouds,
Shines out one steady star —
For when my guide went up, he left.
Thr pearly gates ajar.
F >r t i; 1 tain
Leaves From My Portfolio.
NUMBER 1,
The Old Spelling Booh.
BY MARY BRYAN,
Slight may be the things that waken.
Memory from her dreamy sleep,
Asa fallen leaf may ripple,
The river still and deep.
Do yon like to overhaul old drawers and moul
dy chests, stowed away in garret, or lumber room,
as receptacles for all the odds and ends that hav e
been accumulated year after year—things put
away by careful house-wives “because they may
beot use some day,” and then never remembered
afterwards ?
Do you like to lay away article after article,
and inquire its history of your mother, your grand
mother, or it may be your aunt Debby, who al
ways dresses in black silk with emacculate collar
and cap, and looks so precise that a stranger would
never dream what a warm, loving heart was hid
den beneath that spotless kerchief.
Each item in the promiscuous collection has a
story of its own. There are faded ribbons nnd
plumes that once waved above the ambitious bon
nets, beneath which your mother and your aunt
Debby coquettishly hid their maiden blushes.—-
You look wanderingly at the great plumes aud
think of your own delicate, little Paris affair, now
reposing in clouds of dainty Jace in the band-box
that bears Miss Wharton’s imposing card. Then,
here are half-worn slippers with enormous roseltes
in which your grand-mother danced the Stately
Minuet. Close beside them is a huge cushion of
white satin—the bridal gift to your dear mother
from her dear friend and confident Sarah Brooks,
and bearing the sentence—“ Sally to marry—may
you be happy”still marked upon it in round head
ed pins. Here, nestled together, are a coral with si]
ver bells, a little cap offaded blue velvet, and a
pair of tiny, white kid shoes, painted with very
odd-looking nondescript-flowers. These are relics
of your baby-hood, and just beneath them is the
Sampler upon which your mother stiched so indus
triously in the days of her youth—those famous
days when she tells you “children were children,
and not minature men and women,” and when
the dear April-hearted things gathered straw-ber
ries on the hill-sides, froliced in the clover and
searched for hen’s nests in the fragrant hay-loft, in
stead of learning Mazourkas aud Bravuras of
French dancing and music masters and growing
old in the world’s ways of sin and passion and de
ceit, before the dew of innocence, enshrined in their
lilly-hearts should have been breathed upon by
But I was asking you, it’ you liked to raise the
lid of some old, musty chest, covered with gay, but
faded wall paper, and review the motltey horde of
houshold tieasures it contains—the broken fans—
bladeless knives, strings of corn beads, old annuals,
filled with gaudy engravings, fragments of dolls
that look as though they bad been victims to a
rail road catastrophe, and heads of canes, flourish
ed by your grand father, “in the days when he
went wooing, a long time ago.”
Do you take a in rumaging
amid all these relics of the past, and recalling the
history, or it may be, a bit of romance suggested
by each f I do 5 aad so does my sister, a little
restless imp,—who like Mrs. Stowe’s Dinah
is seized periodically with a tnaa, for cleaning
up, and with this as an excuse, dives into all the
mysteries of store room and attic, making a private
collection for herself and her numerous family of
dolls from the treasures of scraps and fragments
they contain. The other day she came upon a
package of mama’s old love letters, written upon
pink paper and tied with a true love knot—and
brought a blush to the cheek of my stately mother
by reading aloud, with inimitable gravity and pre
cision, the charming nonsense with which they
were filled. Yesterday ’ in her researches, she
brounht to light an old, much tattered book and
was Lionsigning it to the rubbish pile as worthless
when something in its appearance caused me to
arrest her hand and examine it myself. It was
much sdiLed and worn, but “Webster’s Elemen
PERFIELD, -m THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 28,.185/.
tarv Spelling Book”—was legible on the* title
page and on the fty-leafj my owti name was
scrawled, with a date, a'yozen years in the past.
It was the same wonderful book that had puzzled
my youthful brain with its p-h-t-h-i-s-f-c, and
taught'me the folly of pride from t lie fate pf the
unfortunate milk-maid, whose expectations were
dashed to the ground witb her pail of milk-
What a host of memories spoke from every
worn leaf of that spelling book! There were
violets and daisies pressed between its pages that
childish fingers had gathered and placed there,
here was a‘thumb paper,” a rudely daubed wreath
of flowers, bearing likeness to nothing “in heaven
above or in earth beneath,” —and there, a tress of
sunny hair, colored like
The water-fall leaf tinged with brown
And lit with the sun-rsse.
a tress, that I had severed from the fair head of
my desk companion ; and here pencilled on tho
margin of the page, where I had lingered so Jong
over Cardinal numbers, is a tribute to the same
dear friend—Margarret W .... is the sweetest
girl in the world, written probably in a moment of
irrepressible feeling, for sweet Margarret W ....
was the first idol of my school-days,’the heroine
of my first romance, my dream of beauty find
goodness. Dear, gentle Margaret! her image is
still enshrined in my heart, pure and beautiful a 8
evea. Time has robbed her memory of none of
its sweet romance, for her brief life was a lovely
one, and her death, cairn as litlies dosing at shut
of day,
“She died in beauty, like the dew from flowers ex
haled away.
She died in beauty, like a star lost on the brow
of day.
She fives in glory, like night’s gems set ’round the
radiant moon.
She lives in glory, like the sun amid the blaze
of June.—
let still, on the walls of memory, hangs her fair
u*faded picture, with the veil of fancy thrown like
moon-light over it, to soften the features into an
gel lovliness.
Not se, the second object of my childish idolatry
—the pretty, cherry lipped Virginia J .... the
Jeannie, of my first attempt at rhyme, for whom I
had woven a brilliant future, and who married all
my expectations by entering at fifteen into all the
delights of house-keeping and love in a cottage.
I did not see her after her marriage until two sum
mera ago, then I chanced to stop at her house ir
passing, not the pretty, rustic cottage I had imag
ined, but a prim, quackerish affair, with clothes
hanging to dry on the paling, and not even a hon-;
ey-suckle around the pillars of the piazza. And’
•Jenny ! Ah ! how my romantic dreams faded,
when instead of the graceful, slightly emboinpoint
figure of my memory, a lumpy little body with a
round good humored face and curls put straight
back from her forehead, came out to meet me,
sviping her hands upon her checked apron, and em
braced around the neck by a great blue-eyed baby,
while another in its first pinafore held on to her
dress, staring at the unusual apparition of straDg
But 1 am allowing my thoughts, Gilpin like, to
run away with me and they will not be Curbed un
til they have fairly run their course. They will
return however, and center sadly, yet tenderly
around this old relic of earlier years, bearingevery
where on its worn leaves, the print of my childish,
fingers. Ah ! memory, memory ! how this sou
venir of the past has led me through thy long, pic
ture-lmng galleries, back to my childhood, ray
strange, shy childhood, passed in almost utter se- j
elusion from the world in a great, gloomy castle
like home, with its three stories of spacious rooms
and echoing passages, its one dark chamber, over
whose dimly lighted threshold, there fell a shad
ow and a fear, its broad, high steps and winding
stair-cases and its arched basement, over whose
brick walls clambered the dark leaves of the ivy.
But there the sunny and the beautiful places a
round it ; the broad cane’ fields, waving and un
dulating like billowy seas in the winds
over them, the great sycamore tree wit| itshuge
trunk rising like a shaft of polished marble, and
its magnificent coronal of silver lined leave§, wav
ing fanlike in the breeze, the giant, rambling gar
den, which the rasp-berry vines encircled like a
jeweled network, and the clumps of feathery aca
cia,- beneath which we could lie, pillowed on the
softgrsss with the tiny, golden blossoms falling,
perfume freighted, irr our hair and upon our up
turned faces.
There were only two of us—my sister and I
—and we were all the world to each other. She
“was light and sunny hearted, I dreamy and ca
pricious, changing abruptly from grave to gay
Ido not know whether she quite understood my
wayward moods, but she loved me very dearly,
and’at nay bidding would put aside the stiff, paint
ed dolls, dressed so elaborately, that like Broad
way belles they were of no use except to look at,
and “play ladies” instead, with flowers, young
kittens, or belter still, little dowhey, wild-eyed
chickeps, who by aoroe fortunate mischance; hap
pened to be motherless and so fell to our ehsrge.
I think I must have acquired a great influence
over thft yielding mind of my y6ung s<ep. : - Ire
..'7oU UAfio.
memperhow she would sit for hours with my arm
around her, listening while I recounted the strange
stortqs I had gleaned from the musty old romances,
which my mother hoped I was too young to care
ferr, dir to understand, and then in the long rainy
evenfngs of the early Spring, I would sit in the
vitrflyeiled portico, inventing for her the most
improbable of legends, which she drank in with
> qfeiiobh .confidence. while we watched through
the balustrade, the rain beating into the earth the
crinfson flowers of the Wood-bine, until the ground
seemed spotted with blood.
We seldom mingled with other children, for our
secluded life and natural reserve had placed a
barrier between ourselves and them; but we wore
in no want of companionship, for we ioved each
other, as sisters seldom love and our parent-, we
regarded with infinite tenderness. We never had
a brother, nor did we care to have. We had a
holy aorj-or of boys, and believed them a part of
creation that might very well have heed dispensed
with. Our impressions were derived from the five
of a neighboring family—wild, boistroUs boys,
full rude health and spirits and brimful of mis
chief that overflowed in their eyes,—who came oc
casionally upon our quiet home like a tornado,
aud scandalized us greatly by setting the dogs on
our pet kittens, standing our dolls on their heads
and coolly appropriating to themselves the largest
radish in the little garden that was the pride of
our hearts; while they laughed at our remon
strances and asked, “if that was all the politeness
we could shew to company, and especially when
tmlt‘company’was a ‘sweet-heart.” ’ We imag
ined that all boys were like these, and devoutly
wished that we might never be thrown into im
mediate contact with any such barbarians. But
fate decred otherwise.
One winter evening, wheu after in vain
for our father to return from town with the doll
cradle and Robinson Crusoe, he had promised us,
we were preparing for bed, when the well known
stop sounded in the passage and we flew to the
door in demi toilette, with our unplaited hair
hanging gipsey-like around our necks. After the
first embrace, came childhood’s never failing ques
tion; “What did you buy for us Papa?”
“Guess,” was the smiling response, and of course
there followed a list of coveted articles—headed
by the cradle and the Crusoe—to all which he
shook bis head, with a twinkle ia his eye that
puzzled tis greatly.
“I have brougV you a boy for a play-fellow,”
he said at length,''standing aside and revealing to
our consternation, a slender figure, clad in the
much condemned roundabout and pantaloons,
that in our minds were connected with such un
pleasant ideas. We shrank away abashed, and
soon took refuge within the curtains of our bed,
receiving the promised gifts with much fewer de
monstrations than usual. But we did not sleep
after our heads were laid upon the pillow, but list
ened intently to the account Papa gave of the
little stranger who had thus unexpectedly become
a member of our family, while we stole furtive
glances at him through the half-parted curtains.—
He was not a bit like the boys we knew. H
was not a pretty child, and the long, neglected hair
gave an elf-like look to his face, there was a
vanning sadness in his large, dark eyes, and his
lip quivered as Papa recounted his brief history.
It was ,a sad one indeed, I could have guessed as
: much from the language of his eyes. He had
been brought to this country by his step-brother,
| because his lpother had no means to support her
1 large family of children, and her kusbaud was
i cruel to the fatherless boy. His step-brother was
a harsh, unfeeling brute, who imposed heavy tasks
on the feeble child, fed and clothed him scantily,
and treated him with the utmost cruelty. Having
punished him unmercifully for some slight offence,
justice had taken cognizance of it, the boy was
exhibited in court, and my father, touched by his
sorrowful story, brought him to his home.
We listened to this melancholy history in silent
pity, and mentally resolved to be very kind to the
poor orphan, provided he took no unwarrantable
liberties with any of owr numerous charges, but
it was a long time before we overcame our dislike
to a cap and round-a-bout. I remember the first
time lever found, courage to speak to him. He
was silently helping me in my garden and I ob
served him carelessly, place his foot upon a great
toad, he had just dug up from the asparagus bed..
Compassion overcame my timidity, and laying
my hand upon his ai m I said pleadingly:
* “Please dont; you will hurt him, and mama
says it is wrong.’’
He looked at me yvouderingly, —saying as the
released creature bopped awkwardly away, “I am
sure, [ never thought about a toad’s having feeling
before,”
Bu* we soon discovered what an important ac
quisition was our new’ companion, and what a
warm, loving, generous heart beat beneath that
worn jacket; and whon a few months after, the
old Spring Vide Church was fitted up as an “acad
emy,” and for the first time in my life, I trembling
ly took my seat in front of my terrible august
tetfcher-*! found him an invaluable friend in that
trying ordeal,—carrying my books for me, fight
mg my Jetties and keeping my five tormentors
with their fun-loving propensities, at a respectful
distance.
He was our companion in all our foraging ex
peditions through the actumnal woods in search
of flowers whartle berries and chinquepins.
Once, a strange impulse caused-me to lead him
to a lonely, gloomy grave-yard, situated upon a
distant hill, in a grove of dark oaks, whose funeral
moss hung, like a pall down to the low mounds
beneath. I told him the peculiarity of this isolat
ed burial ground, as 3 had learned it from my
father. There was not interred there, a single
person who had died of natural illness. One of
the graves was that of a favorite nurse of mine—
a victim to the bite of’ a rattle snake, and olos®
beside it was a long, low mound, where had been
buried the remains of fourteen negroes, who were
burned together in one house. Farther on, there
were other graves- one . with a carved wooden
head-board and a pailiug around it, where was in
terred a man who had be*n misteriously murder
ed, and near by, a little moss-covered hillock mark
ed the spot where they had lain the mangled body
of a boy—a drunkard's child , who having been
sent, by his father on a 9tormy evening to procure
liquor at a neighboring grocery, while returning
home, was thrown by his frightened horse and in
stantly killed. Altogether, it was a dreary spot,
and Ido not wonder that it was believed to be
haunted. We turned away from it with a feeling
of relief; and my boy companion dreamed not
then, that the next occupnnt of that wiard grave
yard would be sent there by his own baud.
That was in sere November, and when merry
Christmas come to visit us, with jolly Santa-Clause
as a welcome companion, we went to a gay dining
at the house of a relative, leaving ll ■■ •, who
preferred to take his gun and stroll through the
fields in search of Partridges. Hardly was
the magnificent Christmas dinner over, when a
messenger came up in hot-haate, and leaping from
bis panting horse announced to us, that H—--
had accidentally shot a little quadroon hoy—the
pet and favorite of a most esteemed neighbor—
killing him instantly.
We hastened home, and he met us with such a
look of anguish and horror on his countenance,
as I can never forget.
He was afterwards acquitted of any blame ex
cept that of carelessness, but he was never the
light hearted boy of old. His delicate and morb
idly sensitive nature never recovered fsora the
shock of haviug deprived a fellow-being of oxist
ance. He became afraid to sleep alone in his
room. He grew paler and sadder, and a wild,
frightful look haunted his large eyes. He shud
dered if he beheld anything that recalled the mur
dered boy, and it we ever succeeded in winning a
smile to his lips, it faded into an expression of
grief and hopelessness. At last, he confessed to
my mother that he was very miserable —the re
morse for the deed he had unintentionally commit
ted preyed constantly upon him, and that though
he was not ungrateful and loved us with all the
tenderness of his nature, he had rather go away
and try to forget it.
So he left us, with many tears and broken
words of gratitude and affection, for his clinging
loving nature had twined itself <%round us, as
closely as though we had been unitod by ties of
blood.
I have never seen or heard of him ainee. I can
not conjecture his fate; and I have not thought
of him in a long while, before until this dear old
relie has brought before me the pale, serious face
and dark eyes, filled with a prophetic sorrow. —
With his sad story I close the old spelling-book,
and the memories that lie folded in its leaves like
the pale flowers, my young fingers pressed be
tween its pages. I will draw again the veil over
the years l have this day looked upon- —alas! that
there are others—years of gloom and dispair,
draped-like pictures of the dead iu heavy sable,
and these I may not unveil, because I (fare not.
Tiiomasville, Ga.
—_ • •'*— ——. _
Mortality of College Graduate*. — Prof.
Pierce, of Harvard College, has been recently can
vassing the facts now accumulated iij th# trienni
al catalogues of that institution, concerning the du
ration of life of its graduates, and the results of
his research are valuable. He finds thvat the
probable duration of life after graduating, taking
twenty-one as the average age of graduate es t is o
ver forty two years ; or two and a half year ft more
than the probable duration of life in other -persons
at the same age. A College education as then
favorable to long life. Another resut is, that the
student who distinguished themselves as sehollars
have lived longer on an average than thor n whose
standing was low. Habits of diligent stud .V would
seem then to favor health and life, A contrary
impression has prevailed in both these p oints.—
Journal of Commerce. V
Prioress Victorious. —-It will be seen 1 fiy refer
ence to our telegraphplsie column, that the Czarwich
Handicap, ran over New Market Course * England
on the I3th inst., was won by Prioress t jhe Amer
ican mare, after two trials. The distant je ran was
two miles, four hundred and sixty-ei ght yards.
There were thirty four contestants. T he flat trial
resulted in a dead heat—the second JP Vferew won
by a length and a half. The this race
indicates that if she had been in older st the time,
Pricrrm would have borne off the* Ooodsrood
Cup. * •
f ‘t’iIRMS: t<B “
) $1 rn advance; or, $2 at the tfa yw.
i .TO HN hI sE A L.S C
V. WtOPHIETttfI,
VOL. lini-NUIBER 48.
G—d and n you, give me some whisky !
We turned with a shudder as we recognized
the childish tones of the speaker. The path came
full and startling from the childish heart, spell
ing out with that boldness and passion
marks the older proficients in tho ruffian’s ver
nacular.
We could hardly believe that the child who
stood before us, had lived long enough to curse so
fearfully. He could not have been more than
five years of age ! The clear eye, the full
round cheek looked like the abode of innocence.
And yet, the lips were reeking with profanity and
slang, and the manner forward and . rowdyish.
Thus bent in those early days, iCis hot hard to
determine the inclination of the man in after years.
The little heart is the crater of vileness already
Hist ! the child is not to blame. He but sweeps
down on the lido, another illuatralion of the truth,
of this saying, that the sins of the father shall be
visited ou the children. The child has been rear
ed by a swearing, vile-mouthed parent, and in the
midst of the pestilential influences of a low grog
gy- The oath, the obscene jest, and the rewdy
ish speech and manner, are familiar things. From
day to day, they are distilling their deadly poison
into his mind. Deep-—down in the very heart’s
©ore, amid the sacrod elements which appeal to
the forming hand of honor, virtue and truth—-the
deadliest of plants are rooting thus early in life,
bursting soon into premature vigor, and casting
their blighting shadows upon everything noble
and good. Need we wonder that our land is fe
vered in every artery with vice and crime, when
rowdies and ruffians are educated from the very
cradle, and in a grog-shop at that ?
The man who so rears a child, is* false to every
obligation which should rest upon the citizen. He
is false as a parent, and false as a member of the
social compact He wrongs the child, and wrongs
socioty. He is basely recreat to the sacred duties
devolving upon him, and recklessly educates and
turns out upon the community children of hisown
stamp of manhood, like him to outrage the rights
of humanity and the sanctities of religion, from
their words and deeds, scattering broad-cast the
seeds of moral miasma wherever they may live.
Rum-shop education is a costly boon to this
country. — N'or'lh- West Home Journal.
Heathen Barbarism.
Os the barbarous customs which Christianity has
long since extirpated fronf the nations of the West
some of the most shocking retain their hold a
mong the most refined keathen.nations ofthe-East-.
The aunexed statement from a recent publication
presents a striking example of this, although its
barbarity almost exceeds belief:
The Japanese meet death with uncommon cour
age, and oftentimes suffer it under very peculiar
circumstances. We find the following allusion to
it in a work entitled, “Japan as it Wasand Is.?*
All military men, t|b servants of the Djogoun,
and persona holding civil offices under the Govern
ment, are bound, w hen they have committed any
crime, to rip themselves up, but riot till they have
received an order from the court to that efiect:
for if they were to anticipate this order their heirs
would run the risk of being deprived of their
places and property. For this reason all the offi
cers of the Government are provided, in addition
to their usual dress and that which they put on in
esses of fire, with a suit necessary on such opca
sions, which they carry with them whenever they
travel from home. It consists of a white robe
and a habit of ceremony, made of hempin cloth,
and without armorial bearings. As soon as the
order of the court has been communicated to the
culprit, be invites his intimate friends for tho ap
pointed day, and regals them with saki.
they have drunk together some time he takes
leave of them, and the order of the court is then
read to him once more. The person who performs
the principle part in this tragic scene then ad
dresses a speech or compliment to the company,
after which he inclines his head towards the floor,
draws his sabre, and cuts himself with it across
the belly, penetrating to the bowels. One of his
confidential servants, who takes his place behind
him, then strikes of his head. Sadi as wish tQ
display superior courage, after the cross cut inflict
a second longitudinally, and then a third in the
throat. No disgrace attaches to such a death,
and the sons succeeds to his fathers place. When
a person is conscious of having committed some
crime, and apprehensive of being thereby disgrac
ed, he puts an end to his own life, to spare his
family the ruinous consequences of judicial pro*
ceedings. This disregard of death, which they
orefer to the slightest disgrace, extends to the very
owest classes among the Japanese.
Funeral Ceremonies in India . —When the
Hindoo is dead, his body is laid on a bier ; be is
carried, usually, to the sea or river, where the fun
eral pile is ready prepared. His face is exposed.
Over the corpse is thrown a white cloth, on which
many flowers are strewn. Before the body is ta
ken to be burnt, it is annointed with ghee, ®r clar
ified butter. Arrived at the side of the water, the
nearest relation seta fire to tho pile, which is soon
in a blaae. It takes three hundred pounds weight
of wood to consume the body of an adult. The
ceremonies are numerous, and a description of them,
would fill a chapter. The ashes axe afterwards
thrown into the river or sea, and more ceremonies
go on, called “Shrahu,” which consists qf rites for
the repose of the soul of the departed. Itjfestriot
ly attended to, and often costs a great deafof mon
ey— the priests receiving very handsome presents
from the relations.
What oomets are good for. The yield of wine
in the South of France this year fs said to be un
precedently large. It is equal in quality to the
famous wine of the great comet year, 1811, and
as the present year has also produced a number of
comets, the peasants have christened it “the five
comet wine.”
Why will America’s emblem out-live thoge of
England, France, Ireland, and Scotland I, “Be
cause the rose must fade—-the lilly droop—the
shamrock die—the thistle withe*—but thestars