Newspaper Page Text
useful to refer to, but it ceased to at
tract attention. Still, Charlie kept it
up, till, by and bye, the book played
its part in a feartul tragedy.
Somethiug was going wrong at the
store, of that Charlie was positive,
but when or how he could, not tell.
Only this he knew, that where there
shouhl have been ten bales of cloves
things were in a similar deficiency. _
The first time it occurred, he said
nothing—it was barely possible some
of the bales might have been opened
without his knowledge ; but on its re
petion he at once reported it to Mr.
Walton. ,
“Are you sure, Charlie? asked
Mr. Walton, “fluite sure? Because
this is-a sorious matter.
“Quite sure, Mr. Walton, said
Charlie, calmly. “ I have examined
the sales book, and the smaller pack
ages on hand, till I am certain I am
correct.”
“ What does Jones say ? asked Mr.
Walton. “ Does he suspect any
one ?” .
“ lie is as much at fault as 1 am sir.
There isn’t a man on the premises I
wouldn’t trust with untold gold.
“ When did this occur? Saturday,
,did you say ?”
u I missed it on Monday morning,
first, a week ago, and again to-day,
said Charlie promptly.
“Well, well,” said Mr, Walton,
“ keep quiet about itj. Can you make
some excuse to your mother to be ab
sent next Saturday night?
Charlie looked blank. He could
not guess what kind of an excuse his
mother would take, or he invent.
“ Stay,” said Mr. W alton, “111
manage it. I will call and tell hei
you are going to spend the night with
me. Will that do?” and he smiled as
he saw Charlie’s perplexity fading
away.
“Tell Jones to be cautious, and say
nothing, continued Mr. W alton.-
“ Next'Saturday night you and I will
keep watch here and try to ferret the
thing out.”
The week slipped away, and Satuv
day night found Mr. Walton and
Charlie hidden behind a pile of bags,
with only a dark lantern lor company.
There are many pleasanter things
than such a watch, I can tell you. —
The goods seem to be all alive, and
creak as they settle down, as if the
walls were going to tumble, and the
rats hold a" grand carnival. Shy,
cunning creatures, they never show
themselves in the day; but at night
they run, jump, squeak and gibber to
their heart’s content. Charlie and
Mr. W T alton too, for that matter, took
a lesson in rat life that night which
opened their eyes, dark as it was.
After long waiting, they heard a
fumbling at the lock of the front door,
and presently it was opened and a
heavy foot ascended the stairs.
Charlie’s heart beat very fast as the
man approached nearer and nearer,
but Mr. Walton drew him further
back, being anxious to surprise the
fellow at his work.
It happened, however, that Mr.
Walton sneezed —the pepper did that
and he couldn’t help it—a good loud
hearty sneeze, that rung through the
store. There was no mistaking it,
and the thief looked round hastily,
turning to go the stairs. Finding
further concealment useless, they
stepped out from their hiding place,
and flashing the light from the lantern
right in the intruder’s face blocked up
the only way of escape.
That single gleam was enough to
show who he was, and both recognized
a man formerly in the position of an
under porter for a short time, who
must have retained possession of a
key, or taken an impression of one
before he left.
The fellow saw he was pinned.—
Fight was not use for they were two
to one, and both resolute men. As he
came up, he had opened the hatch
ways, the more easily to remove his
booty, and in his desperation he turned
towards that. ' *
Mr. Walton saw'hi's plann in a mo
ment, but too late to prevent it. He
hastened forward, when the man gave
a spring for the rope, missed-it, while
his face caught on the hook. The re
sistance soon gave way, there was an
agShiking scream, a tearing of mus
cles, a swift oleaving of the air, and a
heavy body, mangled and lifeless,
struck with a “ thud” on the ground
floor, that sent a thrill of horror
through the watchers’ hearts.
They hurried down stairs, but life
was gone ! and so disfigured was the
body that but for the one flash of
light that lit up the features of the
desperate man, none could have
guessed who it was met that terrible
death in the path of his sin.
The police were called, and the
corpse given into their hands; and
the two, drawn closer together for this
fearful adaenture, silent and sick at
heart, full of pity for which there was
no exercise, went home to Mr. Wal
ton’s house.
IV.
. New Year’s Day had come again.
Charlie had been with Mr. Walton six
years, and was now but a few months
past twenty-one years old.
There was something more than or
dinary going on, for Mrs. Raymond
was all smiles, and Nell, with curls
still, only the ringlets are longer and
darker than we first saw, was looking
very happy, and Charlie looked as if
he were quite satisfied.
Presently Mr. Walton came in, and
there' was such a hand-sfiaking and
hearty greeting. Nell kissed him,
aqd called him a “dear good man,”
and he didn’t seem to mind it, though
he threatened to tell Mrs. Walton.
Mrs. Raymond could hardly speak,
and when she did there were tears in
her voice as well as in her eyes. —
What can it be all about ?
“It is all right, Charlie,” said Mr,
Walton.
“ I believe so,” said Charlie, hesi
tating.
“Tut, tut,-my boy. Let me see
the paper, I’ll be bound you’ve got
it in your pocket,” he said, banter
ingly.
Charlie blushed, and, sure enough,
it was in nis pocket, so out it had to
come. And while Mr. Walton is read
ing suppose I peep over his shoulder
and see what all this good humor is
about.
Stop ! can I believe my eyes ? Mr.
Walton taken Charlie Raymond in as
partner! There it is in black and
white, and now we can understand
why every one who makes a New
Year’s call on Mrs. Raymond that
day, shakes her hand so heartily.
Our story is done. If any one asks
vmc what it was that carried him up to
the top of the ladder, I shall tell him
it was “ pluck”—doing what was right
and never being ashamed of it.
Some, perhaps, may grumble be
cause I stop right here? “ Why don’t
you tell us how Mr.' Walton not only
took him into partnership, but gave
him his daughter for a wife, and all
that sort of thing?”
Because, my dear little inquisitor,
he did not do any such thiug. For,
first, Mr. Walton has no daughter—
there, don’t look disappointed—and if
he had, Charlie couldn’t marry her
without asking a young lady’s consent,
who lives a few blocks off, and I don’t
think she would say yes—because—
mind it’s a secret between us, reader
—because she wants him herself.
“ Where does he live ?” “ Where’s
his store ?’' “ What’s his real name ?”
—mercy, what a hubbub of ques
tions !
Never mind about that. When you
are out on New Year’s Day, and see a
fine young fellow, with a good honest
face, and look about him as if there
was something in him, calling at a
house where there is a pretty young
lady, who is just as good as she is
pretty, and quite as sensible as she is
good, I dare say that may be Charlie
Raymond. That is the nearest I can
conic to telling you ; but I think you
had not better speak to him without an
introduction—’twould look odd, you
know.
But I tell you all, boys, what we
can do—imitate his “ pluck.”
BENj-AMED’S LION EXPLOITS.
The son of a shiek of a brave and
warlike tribe, a beardless youth of
eighteen, became enamored of the
daughter of a slack of a neighboring
tribe, a young girl of rare beauty and
accomplishments. Ben-Amed the son,
asked for Aichella, the daughter, in
marriage.
“ Young man,” answered the shiek,
Zou-Araf, “ you come of a brave stock
and are reputed worthy to be the son
of a Shiek El-Hamount. So far well.
Gut I have made a vow that my
daughter should wed none but a brave
man, who has proved his courage.—
You are a youth as yet unknown to
fame. Prove yourself brave and wor
thy of some signal deed, and my
beautiful Aichella, the pride of my
heart, is yours.” .
“Yourself shall name the deed!”
returned young Ben-Amed, lifting his
head proudly.
“It is well!” rejoined Zou-Araf
“ A lion from yonder mountain, every
night, takes his pick from my herd ;
let him fall by your hand, and his
meat shall serve us for the wedding
feast.”
When he heard these words, the
dusky features of Ben-Amed slightly
blanched. He Would have gone
proudly into battle, or would have
set out alone in the dead of night, to
plunge his bright yatagan to the heart
of any given member of any* given
tribe ; but the idea of encountering
the dread lion sent a shiver of fear
through his young frame. The old
chief saw the effect 9? his words, and
a slight smile’ of scorn curled his proud
lips. From that moment the heart of
the young man became strong; his
resolution was taken.
“I will do it!” he said, firmly to
the surprise of the shiek, who was ex
pecting a different answer. “ God
helping, I will slay and feast upon
this Forest King.”
“ Brave youth !” exclaimed the
shiek, suddenly changing his smile of
scorn to a look of admiration. “ And
know, Ben-Amed, I do not require
you to combat alone this terrible
beast; I only require that it shall be
you who stands forth before your com
panions and fires the first shot; that
will be proof sufficient of your cour
age.”
We would remark here in explana
tion, that it is the custom of the Arabs
in order to draw the lion, who will
hesitate to attack numbers, from his
retreat, for one of the bravest of the
band to advance alone in front of the
others, and give the first shot, which,
if not fatal—as it seldom is—will gen
erally cost the life of the daring as
sailant —the lion springing upon him
with a terrific roar the instant he feels
himself wounded.
To jthe perfect amazement of Shiek
Zou-Araf, Ben-Amed replied:
“ Father of the lovely Aichella, I
go alpne. Either I bring you word
THE GEORGIA WEEKLY.
that the lion of the mountain is slain
by my singlo hand, or mortal man
shall never look again upon the son of
Shiek El-llamount. Farewell!”
In vain the old Arab chief tried to
dissuade the courageous youth from a
venture that all men would look upon
as certain death. Ben-Amed remem
bered that first -BinilOjjof
his resolution was not to 15e shafen.—
As he was leaving the douar , he
caught a glance of the pale, troubled
face of the beautiful Aichella, and he
prayed God to make his arms strong
and his nerves like iron.
Ben-Amed rode swiftly back to his
own douar , and silently made prepar
ations for his fearful undertaking.—
He communicated his design to no one,
and no one suspected it.
The next day, armed with a double
barrelled rifle, (a present his father
had leceived from a French officer for
a signal service,) a brace of pistols,
and his trusty yataghan, and carrying
provisions sufficient for a week’s ab
sence, Ben-Amed, giving out that he
was going to shoot a few hares and
partridges, set off for a lonely en
counter with the dread monarch of the
-forest. <
For three long days he hunted for
the lair of his enemy, sleeping an
hour or two at a time, and sitting all
night by some lonely path in the wild
woods, over which he hoped the lion,
whose terrible roar sometimes made
him tremble, would pass on his way
to the plain.
Meantime his friends, alarmed at
his absence, instituted a hunt for him,
and he had to avoid them, for-they
would never have let him carry on his
rash purpose. Zou-Araf, fearing to
be blamed for the young man’s death,
kept his own counsel, and nothing was
learned from him , and at the end of
the third day the search was given up,
and El-llainount mourned his son as
dead, and all believed ho had fallen a
prey to the lion of the mountain.
The brave Ben Amed now had mat
ters his own way; and, on the fourth
day, in one of the wildest parts of the
mountains, he found the lair of the
beast he was seeking. It was a dense
thicket of olive and mastic trees,
whose leaves and branches so inter
locked as to shut out sunlight, and al
most daylight, while over, through,
and under them ran a web of sweet
scented vines, making it a fit palace
of the forest monarch.
With a short prayer, in which he
commended his soul to his Maker,
Ben-Amed, fairly trembling with a
thousand contending emotions, began
to enter this dangerous retreat, one
cock of his rifle set, and the two bar
-rels firmly grasped in his left hand,
ready for an instant aim and shot.
It was not far from,
hour when he passed under the-matted
foliage, and even then the place had
the gloom of twilight; but as he cau
tiously advanced, turning his "keen,
dark eyes from side to side, noting
every object, and after pausing,
alarmed at the beating of his own
heart, he found the foliage gradually
growing lower and even more dense,
with the vines and creepers so thickly
rove through it as to bar his way. Into
this jungle led a low, round, leafy pas
sage, which lie believed, to be the door
of the monarch’s sleeping chamber.—
Stooping down, therefore, still firm in
his purpose, though feeling his frame
quiver with conflictng emotions, Ben-
Amed began to crawl forward in a
very dim light: and six feet further
his glaring eyes were greeted with a
view of the grim sylvan king, who
was stretched before him in royal state
on his soft scented couch, perfectly
lost in a peaceful slumber.
It was now that the daring youth
shook like an aspen, and his teeth fairly
chattered in his head; and it was not
until he had said another prayer, and
let his mind wander to the beautiful
Aichella, that he could so command
his nerves as to cock the other barrel.
The click of the lock awoke the
dread beast, who suddenly turned from
his side upon his belly, and opened
his great eyes with a lazy, sleepy look.
For an instant he did not see the bold
hunter—who, resting on one knee and
ready to fire, was again trembling be
fore him—and then his eyes became
fixed upon the intruder, at first-*4th
an air of surprise that any living crea
ture should so have presumed to ven
ture into his regal presence, and then
gradually beginning to gleam with an
ger and burn with rage. Ben-Amed
felt the mesmeric power of those ter
rible eyes, and knew that in another
moment, if he waited another moment,
he should fall a helpless victim before
them.
“In the name of Allah ! for Aichel
la !” he said, in a low, solemn tone;
and thrusting forward his rifle till it
almost touched the head of the growl
ing and crouching beast, he pulled
both triggers tegether.
This was all Ben-Amed knew till
some days after, when he awoke from
a soft couch beneath his father’s tent.
His shot had been heard by some hun
ters on the mountain, who had found
him -With his face frightfully mangled
and the flesh stripped from his ribs,
in a totally senseless state, beneath
the dead body of a huge lion, whose
brain had been pierced by two leaden
balls.
It is only necessary to add, that the
brave Ben-Amed in time recovered,
and became the most famous man in
all that region. He married the
beautiful Aichella, but brought a ter
ribly scarred face and body to the
wedding, and did not feast upon the
carcase of the lion his valor had slain.
EAVESDROPPERS.
Comtemplation of the character of
an eavesdropper produces feelings of
disgust, and of utter contempt. It
is a character of all others that; I
abhor, and look upon with fear. For
in my humble opinion, a person that
Svill stoop so low as tQ jact the part of
an eavesdroopper, will condescend to
meaner things, if there is nnything
that can be considered meaner; and
such will always, according to the old
adage, “ never hear any good of them
selves,” and, indeed, never should.
Eavesdroppers are persons of whom
I know very little, and I wish I knew
less. They arc always seen in places
with persons of their own character,
but you will never see them with up
right and honorable people. Why is
it so ? Because of their acts. Eaves
dropping has been the ruin of a great
many who are now deviating from the
path of virtue.
There are some people who are con
tinually looking into other people’s
business, and seem anxious to know
everything about them. And why ?
It is only to go off some where else to
repeat it, and add a little more to what
they hear. Such is the way with
eavesdroppers, for when they hear
anything that other people say, they
are sure to add a little more to it when
they tell any one else; and that often
causes disturbances between families
and friends.
I wonder how people feel when they
are caught eavesdropping. Bad
enough, I imagine. Can they ever
look at an honorable person, full in
the face, again ? If they can it is
more than I could. Alice.
Greenville Masonic Female College.
What Female Education Should he.
Now what ought all }'oung ladies
to learn ? First, to speak and write
English correctly, and to read it
aloud fluently. Next, to do plain
needle-work. It is a great mistake
to think that wealth can supersede the
necessity for this. In the first place,
this is the most feminiee of occupa
tions ; next, it affords even the stu
pidest poison an opportunity of doing
one thing well without being attracted
by the display that usually attends
excellence; and lastly, it is a most
valuable preparation for a useful in
tercourse with the poor. Then must
come the rudiments of history, geogra
phy and ciphering, and as much
Frdnch as tier ‘natural ability of" the
student renders possible. Nothing
more is necessary, except dancing—
all else shouhl depend upon natural
gifts and personal tastes.
Scarcely any women can ever be so
learned or clever that it becomes a
matter of indifference whether she is
also good-looking* yet she may easily
acquire a proficiency which will be a
source of genuine satisfaction to her
self and her friends. It must, how
ever, be conceded that it is not possi
ble to range all under the head of stu
pid or clever, and that some common
ground of general education is want
ing, which shall test, awaken and de
velop their powers as they grow into
young women.
Incomparably the best instrument
for meeting this want is to be found
in the study o.f standard English liter
ature. This will elevate, excite and
steady them, and make them rationally
proud to think that they are called on
to “ suckle fools and chronicle small
beer ” in a great free country. Ac
complishments are quite a secondary
matter. If men do not get tired of
songs, they soon get tired of the singer
if she can do nothing but sing. What
is really wanted in a women is that
she should be a permanently pleasant
companion.
[From the Easton (Fa.) Argus.~\
Abe Lincoln.—The following is an
extract from a letter written by' a
prominent member of Congress to a
gentleman in his place. It was not
intended for publication, and-gives no
very complimentary account of Old
Abe:
Willard’s Hotel, 1
Washington, March 1, 1861. J
“ I was called here to vote in the
House, and will return to Richmond
to-morrow. The Republican party is
utterly demoralized, disrupted and
broken up. Cameron and Chase,
Weed and Greely, can never affiliate.
Lincoln is a cross between a sandhill
crane and Andalusian jackass. He is,
by all odds, the weakest man who has
ever been elected—worse than Taylor,
and he was bad enough. I believe
Virginia, under his follies and puerili
ties, will secede. It will take time,
and she will act deliberately, and
with her go all the Border Slave
Sbates. I was sent for by him. I
speak what I know. He is vain,
weak, puerile, hypocritical, without
manners, without social grace, and as
he talks to you, punches his fist under
your ribs. He swears equal to Uncle
Toby, and in every particular, morally
and mentally, I have lost all respect
for him. He is surrounded by a set
of toad eaters and bottle holders, and
did not know what the Adams amend
ment was until I told him. In addi
tion to this I am perfectly satisfied he
is an Abolitionist of the Lovejoy and
Sumner type.
“ Such is your God. Oh! Israel!”
(fat’jjiit Pffliltj.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10.
THE PRESENT CRISIS.
The news from all points is very
conflicting, yet the prospect tor war
is more menacing ’lfenr ever.
'To us it seems probable that Abra
ham Lincoln is afraid to sign the or
der commanding Anderson to evacu
ate Fort Sumter —afraid of his own
party. The Black Republicans desire
war; they cannot afford to lose the
revenue of the seceded States; and to
give it up will be attempt to carry on
a government without a treasury.
Notwithstanding all their profes
sions of a desire for peace, the Re
publicans at Washington have been,
and are still carrying on a vast game
of political chicanery and rascally de
ception. Old Abe, in person, as a
mere individual, thirsts for immediate
war. He would be more than mortal
did he not hate to the bitterest extreme
the whole Southern people. His sen
timents are those of his right hand
men, his wily and cowardly Sewards,
his blustering and brutish Trumbulls
and Chases, his craven-hearted and
malignant Sumners, his lying and
sneaking Giddingses, Grceleys, Cor
wins. But all are forced to wait upon
two missing and much needed items—
money and the approbation of Daddie
Scotty.
The Southern Confederacy is being
deceived, cajoled—made an ass ! and
this we asserted weeks ago.
There is one quick, sure and only
easy way to end this matter —Open
fire upon Forts Sumter and Pickens
at once ! Then let Old Abe move if
he dare. The echo of that firing
would rouse lethargic Virginia, inspire
uneasy Maryland, revive ardent Ken
tucky, arouse deceived and irritated
North Carolina, Arkansas, and Ten
nessee—-as for Delaware and Missouri,
they will be bats, neither beasts nor
birds for the next five hundred years.
The miserable old imbecile in
Washington, if he should attempt co
ercion, or to resent the capture of the
Forts, would find a foe worthy of more
than his attention, springing from the
prolific cities of the North.
It is stated that the South Caroli
nians are £rowin</ very impatient.—
We are glad to hear it. We hope
they may initiate the true and surest
policy for the times—Strike, and wait
afterwards.
The Abolitionists, and their apolo
gists say that the Federal poweis are
waiting for the seceders to regain
their lost patriotism; waiting for a
promised reaction—that is, waiting
for treason to spread among us. If
we are to be gulled, bamboozled, and
tricked until that time, let us have the
strife at once. Quick death i3 better
than being killed by inches.
But we are cheered by the belief
that this suspense cannot last much
longer. We know enough of human
nature to assert, confidently, that sus
pense and long endured apprehension
of disaster make men rash, reckless
and revengeful; and, though to begin
an attack upon the forts would not be
rash, yet the act, though springing
from passion merely, would be the best
thing that could happen just now.—
Or at least, let a certain, short space
of time be offered to the Federal Gov
ernment, within which to decide, one
.way or the other, and at the end of
that time— act according to circum
stances.
To us the course of the Confeder
ate States Commissioners, seems very
unworthy of our people. They ap
pear, and are treated as petitioners,
suppliants—often as snubbed busy
bodies.
The Washington correspondent of
the New York Herald asserts that
the Commissioners are wholly in the
Cotton interest, and ready to accept
peace upon any terms ; that the Davis
Cabinet is divided, and the majority
in favor of prompt action, but that the
minority favors diplomatic delay be
cause of cotton; that cotton makes
the Commissioners wait and hope, and
hope and wait. But the Herald is
such a mendacious sheet that we at
once pronounce the statement false.
In the meantime, the workings of
the Black Republican tariff is throw
ing all commercial Europe and Fede
ral America upon our side, and Sec
retary Chase, of Abe’s Cabinet vents
his spleen by prohibiting all entries
for transportation of goods in bonds
to the Southern Confederacy. The
Northern would-be fire eaters are ter
ribly excited by the call made in Vir
ginia for a grand Secession Conven
tion of that State on the 16th inst.—
May she redeem her name, and secede
on the 16th inst. After that what
will become of the “Union?” The
Confederate States will be the United
States of America, and the North the
“ Bump."
HUMBLE.
An article appears in the last issue
of The Southern Field and Fireside ,
condemning the sounding of the letter
hin the word humble. The writer ex
poses his ignorance of the advance of
polite pronunciation, in his absurd de
fence of the ’umble style, which be
came obsolete halPa-century ago.*—
One of his arguments is, that the h
should be sounded because an is used
before it in the Episcopal liturgy—
that is, two errors make wrong right.
He goes on to lay the whole blame
upon Dickens, the novelist, because
Dickens ridicules Uriah Heep’s ’umble
in one of the author’s great stories.
If we are to follow our ’umble
friend’s reasoning we must pronounce
humbug, ’umbug; humming-bird, ’lim
ing-bird ; hummock ’ummock; hum ,
'um; human , ’uman , and so on ad
infinitum.
Perhaps our ’umble friend clings to
pronouncing humor, -yumor , which
Noah Webster declares vilely vulgar.
We can think of but two words,
with their English derivatives, in the
letter h, in which that letter is not
sounded, to-wit: honor and honest.
Desiring no higher authorites for
using a instead of an before humble ,
and for aspirating h in that word we
quote, “ Without a humble imitation,”
&c., &c. Washington’s letter, June
18th, 1783.
Will brother “Ells,” of the Field
and Fireside, ponder thereon ?
ARMY AND NAVY.
The recruiting service and navy
yards of the North are remarkably
active, more so than they have been
since the Mexican war. The admin
istration is straining every nerve to
place the North upon a formidable
war footing, and alleges as the cause
the menace of Spain to take possession
of Hayti in the West Indies.
We believe this to be a ruse to de
ceive the South, and that those bel
ligerent preparations are meant for
our especial castigation.
In favor of their alleged reason for
fighting Spain, the Republicans say
that a foreign war would immediately
re-unite the fragments of the late
Union.
Now it is patent to every roan of
common sense, that, at this time of
embittered feeling in the South, though
all Christendom should pounce upon
the arrogant and fanatical Nofrth, not
a single corporal’s guard of Southern
volunteers could bo drummed np to
pull triggers for her, within the Con
federate States.
Still, leading Republicans assert,
that the United States will be at war
with Spain within thirty days, and that
the Confederate States will have it
with Mexico within less time.
Undoubtedly there is a strong smell
of gunpowder in the air, and every
body of 1881 is “ spoiling for a fight.”
ggp One week from to day, we
shall begin the publication of a South
ern Romance, from the pen of the ed
itor of this paper, the author of “ The
Brother s Vengeance “ Virginia
Glencaire ,” &c., &c., titled : Rosetta,
the Wine-Seller’s Daughter; or,
The Night before the Battle of
New Orleans.
The story will run for three months
in our columns, but all of its scenes
and events are represented as having
transpired between the hours of 7 and
12 o’clock of the night of the 7th of
January, 1815.
This story will immediately be fol
lowed by another from the same au
thor, titled : The Fanatic ; or, The
Home of the Abolitionist.
Subscribe early!
Those deisring either an ex
cellent Daily or Weekly paper will
please read the advertisement of
Messrs. llanleiter & Adair, of The
Southern Confederacy, published in
Atlanta. The paper is a credit to its
city and State, and in these exciting
times a Daily Paper like The South
ern Confederacy is a “ military neces
sity.”—[Readers of newspapers un
derstand the allusion !]
We have received the April
number of The Dollar American
Monthly Magazine. J. L. Hamelin
Publisher, Philadelphia. The cheap
ness as well as the intrinsic merit of
this first class Magazine, recommends
it to all. Terms $1 per annum.
The State of Connecticut has
gone for the Black Republican by an
increased majority. This result of
the election, last week, will undoubt
edly force Virginia from the Union.
jg@°» We refer our readers to the
land advertisement of Messrs. How
ard and Moore'. In bard times seek
for good bargains.
