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VOLUME I.
fjttrjj!
The Lawyer and Sawyer.
To set lip a village
With tackle for tillage,
Jack Carter he took to the saw;
To pluck and to pillage
This same little village,
Tim Gordon he took to the law.
They ambled so pliant
For guerdon and client,
As sharp as a weazel for rats.
Till, what with their law dust,
And what with their saw-dust,
They blinded the eyes of the Hats,
Jack brought to the people
A bill for a steeple:
They swore that they wouldn’t be bit:
But out of a saw pit
Was into ajaw-pit—
Tim tickled them up with a writ.
Says Jack to saw-rasper,
"I say neighbor Gasper,
We both of us buy in the stocks,
While I. for my savings,
Turn blocks into shavings,
You’re shaving the heads of the blocks.”
Jack caper'd in clover,
But work it was over
Got drunk as a fool for a freak;
But Timothy Gordon,
He stood for' church warden,
And cat himself dead in a week.
Jack made him a coffin.
But Timothy off in
A Joud clap of thunder hod flown !
Viiea lawyers lie level,
Be sure that the devil
Looks sharp enough after his own.
isiTlkmrons.
FOR THE J.VDPEXDEXT PRESS.
MY UNCLE SIMON’S PLANTATION;
OR
SKETCHES OF SOUTHERN LIFE. ’&c.
BY ABRAHAM GOOSEQUILL, ESQ.
TIMOTHY LITTLEJOHN ; OK THE LITTLE MAN WHO
WANTED TO BE PICKED UP.
"No, forsooth; he hath but a little wee face, with
a little yellow beard—a Cain-colored beard.”
\Mtrry Wives of Windsor.
It has been, and still is, in some
places, a custom in this country for
politicians to go out, on the eve of an
election, and “pickup” all such of the
sovereighty who “don’t care a darn”
how they vote, and retain them the
over night, secure their votes in the
morning, and then turn them loose
again. If possible, a brand is put
upon them, so that they may be known
at the next election —-until which time
they remain in a state of oblivion to
their friends, the candidates, like the
torpid state of a toad during the win
ter. This practice lias become extinct
wherever intelligence lias shed its
genial beams; and we are induced to
hope that the time is at hand, when
education will teach every man the
value of his vote, and he will cast it as
virtue and his own judgment shall
dictate. But even now, in some dark
corners, there is occasionally seen a
man, or rather the shape of a man,
who is willing, aye, anxious, to be
“picked up.” - ‘
On the first day of October, 184—,
Timothy Littlejohn saw the twenty
first anniversary of the day that gave
him birth. ’Twould be a sin—now,
wouldn’t it ?—for Tim to pick cotton,
pull corn, or dig potatoes on the re
turn of the day that did him so great
a favor as to dawn on his infantile ex
istence. But we need give ourselves
no farther trouble about that, for
his birthday came ori the Sabbath;
and therefore, independent of its be
ing his birth-dav, he would hardly
work on the day of rest!
Now, old Mrs. Littlejohn, from the
circumstance of her son Tim’s having
been born on the Lord’s day, had pri
vately prognosticated that he would,
some time or other, become a preacher,
or, at least, a class-leader or exhorter.
Having stated this prognostication
on the part of the old lady, which will
cast some light upon an after part of
Tim’s history, I proceed.
The first day of October aforesaid,
about sunrise, Tim got up off his pun
cheon-made couch, in one corner of his
daddy’s log cabin, and after yawning
and groaning several times, began to
put on his” “Sunday fixins. ’' His
mammy was an attentive observer,
and when her son groaned, she thought
of how Parson Head well said his
prayers at Church, and, as she turned
off, a “bless the Lord” escaped her
lips.
Tim’s first labor, after that most tre
mendous one of getting out of bed,
was to slip .off the shirt he had .been
-
wearing all the week, and substitute a
nice, clean one, made of cotton osna
burg, domestic manufacture—which,
however little protection had been af
forded it, forgot the lex talionis, and
was about to alford protection to our
hero. After this was done, he called
for his little brother Tommy to bring
hi in abroach of coarse thread to fasten
the collar and waistbands, which was
effected by passing through the eyelet
holes and tying what looked more like
a cable than a pack-thread. His next
labor was to look in “the box,” and
take out what had once been a satin
stock, about a foot wide, “more or
less.” Nothing of the original article
remained but the whale-bone and felt,
and this was now covered on the out
side with one or more rabbit-skins.—
It was adjusted about his neck, and
tied on behind with some of the cot
ton thread oft' of the broach which
Tommy had brought.
“Tommy,” says Tim, “run to ’tother
house and fetch big brother the look
in’-glass, and daddy’s beard-cutter—
that’s a man.”
Now, Tommy couldn’t resist the ap
peal of being called “a man;” so out
he put, as fast as two of his legs, and
all of his arms, could carry him—ma
king use of the latter to balance his
body -as lie went; and such was the
peculiar make of his hands and arms,
that, as they vibrated, they looked,
more than'any thing else, like the pen
dulum to the old clock which stands
in one corner of Uncle Simon’s par
lor, reaching from the floor nearly to
the joists.
It may be necessary to explain to the
reader what Tim meant by “ ’tother
house.” Old Mr. Littlejohn had two
cabinsr on his premises, one for sleep
ing, and the other for cooking. When.
you were in the dwelling-house, and
wanted to speak of the kitchen, you
said, “ ’tother house,” and \wlien you
were inmtlie kitchen, arid wanted to
speak of the dwelling, you still said,
“’tother house;” ’tother house being
the cabin from which you were ab
sent. , a
nd is a little slow about getting
and returning with the “lookin’-glass
and daddy’s beard-cutter;” so, while
he is gone, we will hold up the mind’s
mirror before Tim’s thinking machine
ry, and see something of the operations
of that engine. We see reflected from
the surface of that mirror these words:
“I reckin I’d better turn out my whis
kers, to-day, for fear as how they’ll
think I’m too young to vote, to-mor
row.” There, now, that will do!—
Take down the lookin’-glass. We' see
what is uppermost in Tim’s mind.
He s “‘yotin ” in his head, while
the old lady thinks he’s cogitating
about “preachiii.” But don’t let’s un
deceive her; if we do, we shall des
troy her air-castle, and that were a
pity.
Tommy lias returned with the “look
in’-glass,” but no “beard-cutter” is vis
ible. Tim, however, was so full of
whiskers and voting, that he did not
observe this latter fact, as he said:
“Tommy, don’t you think I’d better
turn out my whiskers, this morning?”
He, he, he, ha-a-aw,” shouted Tom
my; “daddy says as how you’d better
go to the grease-gourd, and smear the
flat side of your punkin, and then call
old Towz to lick ft.”
It’s well old sister Littlejohn wasn’t
present at this juncture, for something
very like “he’d be dod durned” escap
ed Tim’s lips, but the balance of his
words were so smothered up by indig
nation, that no one could have compre
hended them. Our hero was soon
pacified, however, by Tommy’s draw
ing from his trowsers-pocket the razor
which had been concealed there at his
father’s .suggestion. It was not used
by Tim, who had, by this
time, fully determined to turnout whis
ker, mustache, imperial and all, not
withstanding the unkind insinuation
of his. father, endorsed by Tommy.
After viewing himself for some time
in the mirror, ouY hero proceeded with
dressing. Ilis next care was to put
on an old pair of blue broad-cloth
breeches, which were his father’s when
lie was a young man, and whieh were
now patched on both knees, and also
on the seat There were no straps to
these much to Tim’s sorrow;
and, to add f to his grief, several of the
gourd-buttons were broken oft The
places of the latter jyeret soon supplied
by pegs, as they are called, or by small
EATONTON, GA , SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1854.
wooden skewers, made by a case-knife
from apiece of lightwood' lying in the
corner. Ilis trowsers were donned,
and secured to his shoulders by a pair
of suspenders, one made of an old
surcingle, and the other of a strap of
leather. In the absence, of socks, old
pieces of blanket, tied around his an
cles with cotton strings, formed a pret
ty good substitute. Then came a pon
derous pair of red brogans, whieh
seemed to cumber Tim’s pedestals more
than considerable. They were a pres
ent from the neighboring shoe-maker.
Mr. Pinchtoe. Tim felt almost like
David did, when Saul dressed him up
in a coat of mail. He was nearly
ready to say, “Thy servant hath not
proved them;” but. he remembered
“the ’lection,” and so compressed his
feet, which were too large all over,
into the shoes which were too small in
a similar way. After success here, he
put on an old vest which reached
down to his hips, and his work
was done. His wool hat was placed
on one side of his head for two
reasons; one was to play the dandy,
and the other was because there was so
much hair all about there, "that he was
forced to make a virtue of necessity.
I bad almost forgotten to mention about
his coat. As to that, lie didn’t have
one; but that wasn’t the reason he
didn’t put it 6n, by any means. lie
didn’t choose to do so; and, in this
glorious land of liberty, no one is
forced to wear a coat, provided he
doesn’t choose to do so, or provided,
farther, lie doesn’t own one.
Well, the last act of the grand dra
ma was to look at himself in the glass
once more, first holding it before him,
then to each side, and finally behind
him. No belle could have played the
courtier to her own image with more
devotion. Now, Tim sticks his hands
in his pockets, struts out of doors, and,
as he goes, says to Tommy, who stood
“in awful awe and wonder,” with peep
ers and bread-trap all open: “Never
mind, little ’un, } T ou’ll be a man your
self some ’o these days.”
Brcakfast was ready by this time,
and so confident was the old lady that
Tim felt religious minded, that morn
ing, she had almost called on him to
say grace; but then she “knowed that
Tommy and the ole man, an’ the bal
ance ’o the children, would all laugh
at the poor child, who was so modest,
she was afeard it would be the death of
him some time or nother.” So she did
not ask him to say grace.
The young man devoured his break
fast in silence, and “the old man and
the balance of the children,” were so
eager in the same employment, that
they did not rally the poor fellow about
his whiskers. Tim, escaping this an
noyance, so soon as he was done eat
ing, got up and left the house. The
old lady jumped up from the table, and
peeped through a crack to see which
direction he would take.
After breakfast had been oyer for
some time, the family began to talk
about Tim ; and Tommy told how mad
he got when he delivered his father’s
message about old Towzer’s licking his
brother’s face. At this, Mrs. Littlejohn
seemed to be very much shocked, at
her husband and son Tommy, whom
she declared to be a “chip of the old
block for deviltry, and teazin o’ other
folks.”
“Now, ole man,” said she “don’tyou
know as how the scripter’. says, ‘Fa
ther’s, don’t pervoke.your childun to
git mad?’ Now, you pervoked -Tim,
this rnornin’, and he’s gone off away
down in the woods to pray about it. I
seed, at the table, that thar was some
thin’ in liis mind a workin’, and a
swelling and a risin’, like my yeast
thar in the corner, that I have to put
in the coffee-pot, because as how you
wont buy a skillet.” ♦
While this is going on in the house,
let us follow Tim, and sec what he is
doing. He goes into the woods, and
his first act is to find a grape-vine—
which, found, he draws a case -knife
from his packet, and straightway com
mences, with malice prepense, an As
sault upon the unoffending vine—not
with intent to commit murder, but with
intent to manufacture a pair of , straps.
In this lie succeeds to his notion, by.
passing.a small vine under each foqt,
and tying it in holes which he had cut
on both sides of each breeches-! eg. —
After this is dune, he spends tiie bal
ance of, t|ie time in gathering .and eat-
u WITHOUT FE.tll. l\l T'On OH *IFFEVTIO.V
ing eliinquepins, hickory nuts, grapes,
muscadines, &e., until about 3 13.I 3 . M.
It is useless to tell the reader, after
what I have already said, that his mind,
all the while, had been running on the
election. He was not a Whig, and he
was not a Democrat, but was a man to
be “picked up.” Any gentleman could
have his vote for a night’s lodging, and
one or two drams. His neighbor
Worthless, had told him a glowing
tale about how Squire Takemall had
once carried him home with him, giv
en him a first rate supper, as much
brandy as he could drink, and then
put him to sleep in a bed that had cur
tains hung up all around it. Next
morning, he had sat in a room covered
all-over with bed quilts, and listened
to the Squire’s daughter pick the big
gest kind of a banjo, until time to vote.
He had then walked arm in arm with
the Squire to the Court-house, and vo
ted ; after which, the Squire gave him
a whole dollar, and he went off and
got drunk as much as he darned please.
Now, such things as these were well
calculated to inspire our jmuthful hero
with an ardent desire to be served like
wise. Ilis brain fairly reeled with vis
ions of nice breakfasts and suppers,
brandy, big banjoes, and fair young
ladies. This being the case, at 3 o’-
clock, P. M., he quit the woods and
wended his way homewards. Without
being seen by any one, he goes to . the
kitchen, takes up a sheep-skin lying
there, and unfastens a leading line from
a bridle hung up on a peg, with the re
mainder of a set of plough-gear, and
with-sheep-skin, rope and bridle, hang
across his back, he sets out to a.small
field hard by, in which grazed Dob
bin. Going up towards the palfrey, he
said, “Wo, fellow!” Dobbin, I guess,
thought he said, “Go it;” for the way
he traveled from one end of the field to
the other, couldn’t be beaten except by
a locomotive, and hardly that. I am
candidly of the opinion that he thought
himself the wild steed of the desert ;
for he bowed his neck, hoisted his tail,
and absolutely brought a loud snort. —
Nothing daunted, the would-be-rider
followed him up, and got nearly, close
enough to put his hand upon him, when
the jade uttered a slight squeal, gallop
ed off a hundred yards, and, turning
round, snorted again. This process of
allowing Tim to approach very near
him, and then darting off in a gallop,
was repeated many times, until the
young man was nearly tired down.
About this time, he came to the con
clusion to change his mode of opera
tions. He thought lie couldn’t force
Dobbin to the bit, so he would
He goes off with all speed to the corn
crib, and, taking up an ear of corn,
which left the pile considerably less,
he returns. Holding out the corn to
wards Dobbin, lie says, “Come here,
old fellow!” and the old horse, not
used to seeing such things as ears. of
corn, wished to examine one as,a curi
osity—so, with all speed, he proceeds
to the examination. Nearly up to Tim,
he spies the bridle, and, coming to a
dead halt, seems to think,
“Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes
only he thinks it in English, never
having been to College, and, therefore,
unacquainted with the Latin tongue. —
Upon Tim’s approaching him, although
the ear of corn was still held out in a
very tempting manner, he put off again.
Several oaths crowded each other out
of our hero’s mouth for, lack of room,
notwithstanding the extraordinary size
of the hopper to his internal grinding
machinery.
“Well,” says he, “some of the neigh
bor women says mammy thinks I’m
gwine to preach; but, es I ever does, I’ll
have have it in my license to cuss old
Dobbin once a week.”
At last Tim succeeded in catching
Dobbin in this w ay: He hid the sheep
skin, bridle and rope, behind a big
stump, and, holding out-the ear of coin,
succeeded in enticing the horse up to
him ; whereupon, lie naught him by
the; foretop with his left hand' and, pla
ting the thumb, of-his right hand in
one nostril, and the fore-finger of the
same hand in the-other, he led him to
the stump, Uhcld by a giant’s' gripe— -r-,
and the*sheep-skin, with the wool side
out, thrown across his back' to serve
the place of a saddle, .anyl fastened oh
with the rope-substituted for a girth.— ,
Thus caparisoned, the steed was mount
ed by his rider, who was now inaquau
proceed, by another path, to the road
leading to town. Says he, “If Igo by.
the house, daddy will be a plaguin’ o’
me, and isl go’tother way, the childun
won’t see how well I look on the hoss.
But, Dobbin, it makes no odds how I
go, I’ll pay you, arter I git away from
the house, for the way you sarved me
this arternoon ; you hear, ole hoss?”
Finally, the idea of being seen and
admired by the children outweighed
the fear of being teazed by his father,
and he resolved to go by the house.—
All the family, parents and children,
were sitting out in the yard under an
oak tree, as Tim rode up, doing his
best to look, for all the world, like
Marshal Murat, ready to charge a
troup of Cossacks.
“Thar’s Tim, now,” said the old la
day.
The old man, spying Tim’s grape
vine straps, bawled out,
“A fust rate idee, Tim ; it’s well you
tied them ant-stornpers o’ yourn up to
your breeches-lees, or they’d a broke
Dobbin down to tote ’em, they are so
heavy.”
After saying this, a peal of laughter
made the woods ring, and Tommy
joined his father in the merriment.
Tim kicked Dobbin in the side, and
struck a lope to get out of the reach of
his father’s voice.
“Ha, ha ! Tim’s gwine to see the
gals, this evening, and I’ll bet my old
hat on it,” said the old man.
The old lady didn’t think so. She
thus discoursed about it:
“Now, old man, be ashamed to
plague the poor child so. Here he’s
Open out all day a fastin’, an’ lamin’
what to say to-night in the prar meetin’
at brother Nextdeor’s, and when he
gits up on Dobbin to go over thar,
you are plagin’him to death. Come,
Susy, let’s git supper early, and go over
to hear your brother exercise— : come,
child.”
By means of magic, we must trans
port ourselves instanter to Hustle
down ; for Tim travels so fast, we can’t
keep up with him by ordinary means.
We’ll get there before him, and see his
grande entree.
It is about sun-down. Squire Tak
emall and Col. Whistlecraft, men of
different parties, but particular person
al friends, are sitting at the corner of
Sprawls’ Tavern. Neither of them
took any interest in the pending elec
tion, and, therefore, they were not ac
tive in electioneering or “picking up.”
About this time Tim made his advent.
Dobbin’s tail was sticking out at an
angle of ninety degrees, on a horizon
tal line with his backbone. His head
was erect, and his neck was bowed in
such a way as to form au angle, (rath
er than a curve,) whose apex savored
more of acuteness than obtuseness.—
Really, there seemed some danger that
the said neck would break in two ;
but a closer examination would have
told the observer that there was too
much tough skin and gristle there for
that. His wethers were several inch
es .taller than the neck, .where it left
the body, which seemed to issue out
of the shoulders as that of a terrapin
does from his shell. He was what
jockeys call ewe-necked, and had been
rendered more so by hard work, and
by having had a fistula when a colt.—
His back-bone, which more resembled
a cross-cut saw covered with horse-skin
than any thing else, grew lower and
lower towards the haunches, so that
some folks would have called him
droop-rumped. The knees of his fore
legs turned in, and his hocks turned
out, indicating a real digging pacer,
which would excayate a hole large
enough at each step to bury himself.—
He was said by Tim to be “as good a
piece of hoss flesh as was ever wropp
ed up in the same amount of hide.”
Dobbin came into town, down an
extendecLslope, in a long pace—a pace,
however, which bounced Tim up and
down as much as the hardest kind of a
trot could have done. A light breeze
compelled the horseman, for the safety
of his liat, to hold it in one hand, instead
of keeping it on his head. He had to
lean forward to keep from falling off,
and, as his body went towards the
horse’s neck, his feet receded towards
Dobbin’s flanks, and his legs were
drawn up. Every now and then, a
spur-end of the grape-vine straps
K,pld approximate tlfo' old horse’s
nks, wfien,.like the Irishman’s “crit
ter.” would “rear up behind,” and
then proceed faster than before. Going
down hill, old Dobbin’s pace became
. every moment accelerated, as much
from acquired velocity as from animal
exertion. From a long pace he got in
to a gallop, which became every mo
ment swifter and swifter, until there
was a prospect that his speed would
equal that of a few hours before, when
Tim was'trying to bridle him. It now
became a serious question with the
rider, how he should ever snip his steed.
He pulled the bridle with all his might,
but this only balanced Dobbin and as
sisted him in the race. He was for
some time too proud or too dignified.to
open his mouth; but, about the time
he got opposite the gentlemen whom I
have just mentioned, lie concluded
there must be a halt at all hazards.—
So he bawled out at the top of his voice,
“Wo, Dobbin !” Dobbin took him at
his word, and, planting his fore-feet in
such a way as to form the broadest
possible base, ploughed up the ground
for some distance, and stopped stock
still, while Tim chose to keep on, and
was landed over the horse’s head, some
fifteen feet in front.
“Pick him up , Squire Takemall,”
shouted some one across the town.
Poor Tim was taken up and placed
upon his horse, full of dirt, and groan
ing under a multiplicity of pains and
bruises. After lie had gone a little
way towards home, in a very slow gate,
he is reported to have said: “Darn all
such picking up /”
Old Mr. Littlejohn heard of this ad
venture, and Poor Tim came as near
being ‘plagued to death’ as. ever any
mortal did. ,
It was a long time before the old
lady could forgive ‘the child’ for not
going to brother Nexl door’s to preach
that night.
Mnoiv JYotkings.
This is the singular title of anew, se
cret and powerful political and religious
organization, which has sprung into
existence in the Northern cities, and is
rapidly on the increase. It cuts like a
trenchant sword, into old party lines,
and may create a total change in the
politics of the country. Thus far, the
success of the movement has been be
yond all precedent. In New Orleans,
New York, Boston, Brooklyn, Phila
delphia, Washington, and many other
places, the “Know Nothings” were en
tirely successful to the complete sur
prise of the public and' amazement ob
the old political wire-workers. The
organization is secret, and the answer
to all inquires is don’t “Know Noth-
ing.” But the following from the
“Know Nothing and American Crusa
der,” published in Boston, is said to be
the platform of the order of “Know.
Nothings:”.
1— of all Naturalization
Laws.
2 None but Native Americans for
office.
3 A pure American Common
School System.
4 War to the hilt, on Romanism.
5 Opposition from the first and last
to the formation of Military Companies
composed of Foreigners.
6 The advocacy of a sound, healthy,
and safe Nationality.
7:—Hostility to all Papal Influences,
in whatever form and whatever name.
8— American Institutions and Ame
rican Sentiments, r
9 More stringent and effective Em
igration Laws.
10— The amplest Prot ction to Pro
testant Interests.
11— -The doctrines of the revered
Washington and his compatriots.
12— The sending back of all For
eign Paupers landing on our shores.
13— The formation of Societies to
protect all American Interests.
14— Eternal enmity to all who at
tempt. to carry on the principles of a
foreign Churcn or State.
15 — Our. Country, our whole Coun
try, and nothing but our country.
16 — And finally, American Laws
and American Legislation, and death
to all Foreign Influences, whether in
high places or low.
“Pythagoras laid down such rules as
he thought most conduced to maintain
tranquility of mind. He allowed no
beverage but water.” — Dr. Cocke.
“He who would have a dear-head,
must have a clean stomdeh.”— Dr. G.
Cheyne.
“Nothing is so great a friend to the
mind “of man as,■ abstinence.”— Dr.
; south:
“Even from the body’s purity, the
mind receives a secret sympathetic aid.”:
;V Lewis Cornaro,;.;who died about an
10Q,.years old, wrote/<wr treatises aftep
attaining his eightieth y.egr, the last
being written attfie age of 95. TTe.ab- j
stained from strong drink after4o years [
of age;' ' ■ i
* - V:-- j
J A corps of mounted Police, is being !
organized in Savannah, On.
• Y V? p* •'* y- -
NUMBER 11.
Curious Predictions.
There are several predictions ex-/,
tant which have threatened Mahome
tanism a long \vhile. Bibl iander affirms,
“that there is a famous prophecy
among tile Mahometans, which'strikes,
a great terror both in men and women,
and which says, “that the empire
shall be destroyed by the, sword of
the Christians.” The prophecy is ex
pressed in the following words, which
are translated out of .Persian into Latin,
by Georgievitz: “Our emperor shall
come, shall take the kingdom of the
Gentiles, shall subdue it even unto
seven years; if the sword of the Gen
tiles shall not rise again, he shall reign
over them twelve 1 years, shall build a
house, shall plant a vineyard,,shall, en
close gardens with a hedge, shall have
a son and a daughter; alter, twelve
years, the sword of the Christians shall
risC up, which shall' beat back the,
Turk.” Sansovin published a book in
1570, wherein he affirms, “that there
is a prediction ‘that the laws of Ma
homet shall last no longer than a thou
sand years, and that the empire of the"
Turks shall fall under the fifteenth
sultan.’ ” He adds, “that Leo the phil
osopher, emperor of Constantinople,
ha; said, in one of his books, ‘that a
light-haired family, with its competi
tors, shall put ail Mahometanism to
flight, and shall seize him who is pos
sessed: of the seven mountains.’-” The
same, emperor makes mention of a col
umn which was at Constantinople,
whose inscriptions the patriarch of the
place explained, and said' that they
signified “that the Venetians and Mus
covites shall take the city of Constan
tinople ; and after some disputes, they
shall choose, with one consent, and
crown a Christian emperor.” This
light-haired family, so fatal to the Mus
sulman, puts me in mind of a passage '.
of Dr.-Spoil, which I shall set down.
“Os all the Christrian princes, there is
none whom the Turk fears so much as
the great czar of Muscovy—and I have
heard some Greeks say, and among the
rest, the Sieur Munno-tMannca, a- mer
chant of the' city of Arta, a man of
wit and learning for that country, that
there was a prophecy among them
which imported ‘that the empire of the' )
Turk was to be. destroyed by a na
tion chrysogonos , that is, liglit-haired
which cannot be attributed to any but
the Muscovites, who are almost all
light-haired.” There is mention made
of - this in the “Miscellaneous Thoughts
on Comets,” on occasion of'l know not
what tradition, which is current, “that
the facts have promised the French the
glory of destroying the Turks.” The
prophecy of the Abyssinians mentions
only a Christian king, who shall be
born in the north. “Mecca, Medina.,
and the other cities of Arabia Felix,
shall hereafter be destroyed, and the
ashes of Mahomet and his
dissipated ; and that some Christian
prince, born in the northern regions,
shall perform all this, who shall also
seize on Egypt and Palestine.” It is
pretended that a book was written in
Arabic concerning this prophecy, be
fore the taking of Damietta, and that
this book was found by the Christians.
Willichius relates, “that the Turks
find in their annals, that the reign of
Mahomet shall continue until tl>e arri
val of the light-haired boys.” Some
think that this denotes the Swedes;
but AntUny Torquato, a famous r as
trologer, applies if to the king of Hun
gary. — Bayle. " f\y . y
•I Chapter on “Traps.”
We. daily notice in, some one of our
exchanges, advertisements to the effect
that foi tunes are to be made in, a day,
I>y the’use of certain receipts—a thou
sand and one in number. By the tone
of their advertisements some think that
all these men say is true, and are-green
enough to invest, pretty largely in
such enterprises, qnct find to their own
mortification, that they have been
egregiously “gulled.”' The men who
are at the head of them, no doubt,
make large fortunes, but who ever
heard of any one at the South, invest
ing in these enterprises, who made
anything? We think it is time that
the press at the South should take up
the matter, and expose these institu- qj
tions in their naked deformity, Their f
attempts to “gull” honest'SouthernersJ
through the columns of Southern news- *
papers, are too bare-faced to admit* of
palliation. The principal “heac!s”fbf
some of these establishments have en
deavored to thrust their advertisements
extraordinary into our columns, by|j
continually sending and
them to our address, with the request
that wo publish.•; AVe have invariably
passed'them'- by unnoticed, ;believhjte,
as we do,, that these, same “heads” ar£p
swindlers in the strictest sense of tho*
word—because they hold out induce-;
mehts w h ich are false. W e hope the '
good sense of Southerners will not sai
ler them to be: imposed upon by conn
[f/x‘kcifigi.% -
There :nv 101 or twelve frightful ea-
ses of lip, tongue, . and face cancer in' /
the London cafiher hospital, all re-f
suiting froih cxceWtvh;§mokino-. ' J
' °
TIM^.VI.M-onunonFrcnohsolUi^'
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