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THE HOME JOURNAL. Voltimo III. BY 81ATTKIt. ""Hleiiid lo iW rbUri wy, We follow Iruih wstre'wuht leadw llie war.1 Prom th M.miiliU Uulltlln. THE TOUCHING OF JESUS. iffocliomtely ImKrlbod to Rev. Dr. Qulnltrd . , BY ANSIS, CHAMUERS BRADFORD "If I may but touch Hi garment, I alio II bo wholo." Mntt. IX. Travel-worn, among thu brambles, Grope 1, sick and lone, Vsinly.scarching for the pathway All with thorns o'orgrown. Holy angels! to the Healer Guide my bleeding soul! If I may hut touch His garment, I shall be whole. Passion-red and purple blossoms Woood my foolish foot Busily the buds 1 gathered, Filled with noctiir sweet Far and farther on 1 wandered. Drinking deadly wino From each deep and gaudy flower-cup As a draught divino, Then the noonday sun o'ertook mo In a desert dread, Where, 'mid faded wreaths of purple, Lay the unshriven doad; Wild Remorse tho only watcher O'er thoir grnveless bod Stricken Radiol, still refusing To be comforted. ' I have fled away affrighted, But ooch luprous vein Carries up the hated venom To my reeling brain. Yet 1 see, though dim and distant, Christ, the Nazarene Holy angels! lead mo to him! He can mako me clean. Though tho crowds that throng about him, Lowliest of nil, Come I, with my spotted raiment At his feet lo full! Holy ingols! nearer, nearer, Guide my trembling soul! Jflmay but touch His garment, I shalFbcu-hokl Master, from the bitter apples Gilding Pleasure's tree, I am come and entant, begging Bread and wine of Thee, In the dust I crouch buloro Thee, Waiting my reloase Waiting till Thy tenpor mercy Bid me go' in peace. SP1UNG IS COMING. BY CHAKI.KS FLORIDA. Spring is coming, coming, coming, Willi all her guy; laughing train; Wo can hear her merry humming As she treads tho earth again. Birds are singing, singing, singing In the warm and mollow breeze; Buds are springing, springing, springing Into young and tender leaves. We can see the trees grow grecnur As they sparkle 'raid the dew; And the snow-banks, they look leaner As they melt 'neath our view. Pretty (lowers now are blooming On earth's carpet, green and gay; And the meadows, they're perfuming As their sweets are blown away. Brooks are running, running, running, With thoir water's foaming white Ah, yes, spring is coming, coming, She'll bo hero this verry night. "THE BE Tit A YEP. BY COUSIN KATE. May Herbert was the pet and pride of our village. She was a graceful, fairy-like creature, who, without be ing strictly handsome, was certainly the most attractive girl ever met with. May' father had died when she was a mero child, leaving her mother an income which was barely sullicient to support herself and daughter, togeth er with the gardncr and maid ol'-all work. Mrs. Herbert was too poor to send May to school: but as sho poss essed talent and education herself, she instructed her in both the useful and ornamental branches. As May grew up, she noticed the constant efforts her mother was ob liged to make that they might keep within their narrow income; and now she resolved to obviate this necessity, as far as lay in her power, and for this purpose she took a few music scholars. Among these was Alice Meringer, the only daughter of Squire Meringer, the great man of tho village; and if wealth alone makes greatness, he cer tainly deserved the title, for his for tune was princely, but, as he was of A dark, vicious character, the villagers looked upon hirn with more fear and awe than respect. One day May went, as usual, to the Hall as' 'Squire Mcrcinger's resi dence was called to give Alice her lesson; but as she was entering the gate, a lervant met her, and informed her that, as Master Louis had that day arrived from Europe, Miss Alice would take no lesson. As may retraced her steps home ward, she mentally wondered if Louis would indeed answer the glowing de scription which his sister had given of him; but other thoughts soon drove him from ber mind; nor did she think of him, after mentioning the circum stance to ber mother, until the next day, when she went again totbellalL Not 'thinking there was any one in tin parlor. May entered without knocking, but quickly drew back on perceiving her mistake. "Come in, Miss Herbert; it is only Louis," exclaimed Alice, as she star ted forward to meet her teacher. As May entered, Louis Meringer arose as Alice went through tho intro duction, nnd bowed smilingly. "My sister has just beon enumerat ing your virtues, Miss Herbert." "Oh, Louis, you should not tell tales out of school," exclaimed Alice, blush ing; "and now, to punish you, I shall not allow you lo remain while I take my lesson; leave the room, tir, instant ly." And the little damn threw open the door with a grand flourish. Lou is laughed gaily. "Why, Alice, you are a perfect lit tle tyrant," he exclaimed; "but as I hiivo incurred your displeasure, I sup pose I must now suffer the penalty," and taking his hat, ho bowed grace fully to may and withdrew. Louis Meringer was tall and well proportioned; jet black curls fell over a brow of snowy whiteness; his eyes were large and dark, but they had a strange, uncertain light, which many considered diagreeable; his features were faultless, and, added to bis beau ty of person, he possessed that well bred elegance of manner which is of itself irresistable; but alas! a villian's heart was hid by all the outward gra ces which can adorn man. The next day Muringer was again in the parlor; and as he did not ollbnd his sister, lie was allowed to remain until thu lesson was over. At first, May was somewhat cmbarassed ut his presence, but by skillful tact lie soon placed her at ease; and almost before she knew it, they were carrying on an animated conversation. Alter this their intimacy rapidly increased. Sometimes Meringer would await her in the pal lor; at others, meet her as she went to or from the Hall; on such occasions he always accompanied her to her destination. May, at length, began to look upon these meetings as right and natural, and seemed greatly disappointed if anything prevented them. With all the fervor of her pure, guileless heart, May Herbert loved him; and with all the faith of woman, she believed him when he told her that his love was stronger than death, It was on a lovely moonlight night, in the early part of September, that May, accompanied by Louis, was walking slowly along the road leading to her homo. All the evening Louis had seemed gloomy and depressed. At first, May forbore questioning him as to the cause; but at length, grow ing fearful that some trouble was at hand, she ventured to ask him the rea son of this unusual depression. "Oh, May," he exclaimed, in a voice of well-feigned passion, "how can I be otherwise than gloomy and depress ed when 1 think of our unhappy situ ation. 1 love you, May, dearer than life deeper than words can tell; unci yet " he paused. Hut as May ro niained silent, he again went on. "J, know my father will never consent to our union; but I have a plan . in my mind, and if you agree to it, we will be beyond having his conset. Will you agree to it, May !" "Certainly, Louis," she answered, without a moment's hesitation. "I am sure your plans are. honorable; why, then, should 1 not agree to them, when my happiness, as well as your own, is at stake?" May looked up, but at that moment a cloud obscured the moon; sho could not catch thu expression of his face. "Dear May," he murmured, as he pressed his lips to her forehead, "listen, then, and I will explain my meaning. 1 have, as you know, studied law, al though I have never practiced it; my plan is this: consent to bo mine at once, and we will be married pri vately. I will then immediately start for New York, and open an office there. I have many friends in the city, and I am sure I would succeed. The fear of ever losing you being removed, and the consciousness of possessing your undivided love, would nerve me to the unaccustomed task. In one year I will return, and claim you as my honored wife. May, you will not refuse your consent!" His voice had sunk to one of deep, passionate entreaty; he clasped both her hands in his, and was gazing half fearfully- into her face. Hut May had been brought up by a pious mother; she had never known deception, con sequently it looked hateful to her in any form. "Oh, no! Louis," she exclaimed, as she freed ber hands from his grasp, !no, Louis, I cannot dare to think of it; what would my mother and my mother and my friends sny to such an act? I repeat, Louis, I dare not think of it; let us wait until tho year has passed, and then be married publicly. Fromuw yea will not mention this WINCIIKSTICI?, TRNN., APltlL 7, 1850. again. "Surely it is nothing criminal," he answered, coldly, "that you should thus dread the very mention of it; but I have been deceived, May; I thought ynu loved me; 1 thought you valued my happiness more than idle gossip. I have discovered my mistake, although too late, I fear, for my own pence." May's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Louis, how can you be so cru el," she exclaimed, "when you know bow dearly 1 prize your love and hap piness? liut I havo been taught to consider these claudesline proceed ings, if not strictly criminal, at least nearly so, and always nt tended by misfortune. Yet, to assure you 1 do not care for w hat you term 'idle gos sip,' I only request permission to in form my mother, and gain her con sent." "May, have some sense,', exclaimed Louis, impatiently; "your mother with her high notions of honor, would con sider it her duty to immediately in form my father of the whole all'air; and believe me, May, if he once dis covered it all our plans would prove futile; lor, as his ingenuity is inex haustible, ho would find means of not only preventing our union at present, but of preventing it forever." May was silent. She feared that what Louis had said was too true; and yol, to her, the idea of a clandes- line marriage was inexpressibly shocking. Well would it have been for May Herbert had sho paid more attention to thai silent monitor within. Hut love is a powerful advocate; and ere sho arrived at her home, she had given the required assent. "Then to-morrow, dearest May. you will be mine!" murmured Louis, a they arrived at the gate. "Yes, to-morrow." answered May, "and God grant ltnay never repent it," she added, gloomily, as she disappear ed from bis view. On the following day, at the usual j hour, May put on her bonnet nut shawl to go to Hall; at the door she paused. "What is it May, are you ill!" asked her mother, as, looking up from her work, slit! noticed May's agitated looks. "J think you had better stay at homo to-day," sho added; "you do not seem very well." "Oh! no," answered May, quickly. I j am only a little nervous, ami Alice j will expect me; so good bye, mother, : 1 think the walk will do me good." "dood-bye, my child, and liurry courage to break what she knew home; 1 wil have tea ready when you j would l,0 unwelcome tidings to him, return." I but which, nevertheless, he must hear. May was gone! It was tho last ' Suddenly he looked up. struggle between love ami duty. j you have anything to eoinniuni Love hail conquered. When she ar- ! ,.al,.f you hail best let me know it at rived at the Hall she found Louis ; once." be exclaimed, -for as the clouds awaiting her. The lesson was hur ried through, and just at its conclu sion, a light carriage drove up the av- enue. Louis immediately aespiticiicu a t. alternoou were now black and his sister upon .some trilling message; ihreatning, while the strong wind, then turning to May, he took her hand i vVhich eame in uncertain gusts, fore in his. j tob a ytorui of unusual violence. She "it is the minister, May. Come to i,l ()t noticed this before, nor bow the library. near they were lo the cottage, of which He led her from the room, across s. (m, ow catch a glimpse, peep the hall, and into the library; as they iK out (rum uinong the trees by w hich entered tho minister arose. At any other time May would have perceived that, save bis black dress, there was little about him to proclaim his sacred calling. In the agitation of the moment, May ditl not notice, or at least paid no attention to this. Sho was one day to recall it with shame ami bitterness. As the cere mony proceeded, Louis placed a beau tiful pearl ring upon her finger, ami at its conclusion he clasped her to hi breast in a wild, passionate embrace. "Mine, mine forever," he murmur ed, as again and again he pressed his lips to hers. Immediately after their marriage, a yonug man, named James Gibson, appeared at the Hall. May had an indistinct recollection of having seen this person before, but when or where she could not bring to mind. CHAPTER II. A year had now passed since May Herbert's marriage, and yet Louis Meringer lingered in the village. Ho always had some plauvablc excuse at hand, when .May would venture to mention hit promise of opening his profession. .May yielded to his argu ments; and at length, although daily more alarmed for the consequences, she entirely ceased from mentioning the Kubject; and thus, between hopes and fears, passed the first year of her wedded life. But the time at length came when concealment was no longer possible; and sitting at her mother's feet, in the calm twilight, with downcast eyes and burning cheeks, sho confessed all to her. Mrs. Herbert was both grieved and angry at this discovery; she had reared May tenderly and purely, and it was a sad blow to her loving heart to find disobedience and deception where she had imagined nil was openess and truth. "May," said she, after a few mo ment's silence, "May, you havo dono very, very wrong. You should never havo married Louis Meringer without his father's or my consent. Your sta tions wero too far removed, Hanoi- ness seldom grows out of such connne - tions, for they are nlmoset always tho offspring of passion. I would rather see my darling child tho wife of any honest lad in the neighborhood than the bride of tho proud Squire's son; ! quickly among the trees; throwing however, as it is done, there remains j herself upon the veranda that ran but ono course to persue. As 1 am j along tho front of the house, she buried unable to go out, I will semi for Mr. I her pale, haggard face in her hands, Meringer and acquaint him with all." and bowing her bead on her lap, tried "Oh, no! my dear mother," cried to collect her scattered thoughts; but May, starting to her feet, "yon must this she found to bo impossible; (here not; 1 will see Louis to-morrow after- j was a terrible load of grief and mis noon, and let him know that 1 have ery at her heart, but she could not told you all; be can then break the j comprehend its nature-. In the mean news to bis father, and will know best i while the storm was fast attaining its how to do it." After a moment's reflection, Mrs. Herbert concluded this would bo a better arrangement, and there, for the present, it rested. The following afternoon May went up to the Hall. At the entranee she met Louis; be was passing her with a j slight bow; of late she had noticed ! that, at times, ho would be cold and 1 distant toward her; bet this act was j more pointed than any she ha 1 before observed; it startled, but at the same tiiuo gave her fresh courage. She laid her hand lightly upon his arm. "Louis, can 1 see you after 1 give Alice her lesson?" "Certainly, if you wish," he replied; "but if your business is not of impor tance, 1 would rather you would post pone the meeting, as I am otherwise engaged for this evening.'' Time was when all emrneiiients v.tni.slieil before her lightest wi.sh. May remembered this; but, hiding the emotion it awoke, she answered calm- ly- "My business in of importance, Louis, and I must see you. "Then I will meet you," lie answered as he turned and went down the steps. When May came out she found Louis standing at the gate; ho opened it as she asproached, and without a W,-J tlit-y both went forth into the ruil,i. l.'m- sometime they walk on j thus, May vainly striving to gain are gathering, we must make haste.' May raised her head. The light clouds which had been lloalini! around it was surrounded; but her compan ion's words now aroused her, and by a strong Hfort driving back her fears, she Kpoke. "Louis, I have told my mother of our marriage; she insists on having it made public immediately. Will you do so!" There was a slight tremor in May's voice as she conluded, and her eyes were raised, half-fearful, half-beseeeh-ingly to bis; but neither look or tone seemed to all'ect him, as in cold, meas ured tones, he asked 'What is it you wish ine to do, May!' "Why, to acknowledge me as your wife, certainly," she replied. A few steps more brought them to the cottage gate. "Well, May," said Meringer, as he leaned indolently against the railing, "we havo been talking nonsense now for a whole year, so what say you to a little sense!" "What mean you?" asked Jay, quickly. "Simply this; that your love must have been blinding, or your vanity excessive, if you ever seriously sup potted thatl had married you; the mar riage was illegal; you are not my wife." "You are jesting, Louis; we were married by a minister." "Uy what minister? What was his n.inm'" "His name, Louis, his name; why, you never told me his name; but surely you know it." "I do; it was James Gibson!" With a cry of horror .May darted from his side. Yes, he was right; the terrible truth instantly burst upon her. Sho now remembered where ttho had seen James Gibsoni iMeringer stood by the epen gate; she sprang past hLm.JiAaf tree. Scarcely bad 1 stepped nil and darting among the tall trees, was soon lost to sight. "Thank heaven it is ovor," muttered 1eringer, as ho turned into tho mad. When ilay's father had purchased the ground sorronnding tho cottage he had intended to clear it, and con vert tho wild wood-land into a sub stantial farm; but death had called him away ere his plans were consu mated; and save a small spot of 1 ground behind the cottage, on which ! tho vegetables for the family was j raised, it still retained its wild uneul- tivcted appearance. When May left .Meringer sho passed fury; large drops of rain began to fall and in her exposed condition .May was soon drenched to the skin; but site heeded it not; no rain could wash away her sin and shame. May never knew how long she re mained on the veranda; but her moth er's voice at length aroused ber from the stupor into which she had fallen. Slowly she arose; from her seat, and throwing back (lit: mass of wet dish- evelied hair from her face, she tottered j l(, tb(i door, opened it and went in. "Oh, .May! my child, what ails you! Where have you been!" "Mother, 1 am not Louis .1eringer' s wife; it was a mock marriage." Siie had no time, to i-ec t lit! Hied ol her words, for at that instant a vivid flash of lightning illuminated the room. A loud roar of thunder, ac companied by a loud crush, and a cry ol' human agony followed, loan in stuut she was again beneath the gloom of night. Auolhor Hash of lightning served to khow her the object of her search. A few feet from where she stood lay the boily of a mighty oak, at lenth uprooted by the storm, which j for ages it had successfully resisted, ! And beneath llie fallen tret; lay a man, still and motionless. Assisted by the , gardner and his wife, May soon had tin! injured man placed upon the sola in he little silting room. An expres sion of horror escaped her lips as the j light, hilling upon bis face, revealed the features of Louis Meringer. As May turned quickley away, her eyes fell upon her mother, who was sitting upright in her chair, her ryes open and staring, while her facts was as pale anil rigid as that of a corpse. Hut these accumulations of misfortune flecinedto give the hitherto timid gill new, strength. She had her mother conveyed immediately to ber room, ami by the aid of restoratives, soon bad I be satisfaction ofseeing conscious ness return. Oa returning to the sit ting room, May found (hat .Martha had brought aeot into the room, upon which Meringer now reclined. Thank ing her for her forethought, May dis missed her to attend on her mother, while she took her place at Meringer's side. '1 have sent William for your father and this doctor,' said she, calmly, as she approached the couch where Louis lay, alter givi'ig some instructions to the gardncr; 'in the meantime, I hope you will tell nit: if there is any thing 1 can do to relieve you.' Meringer slowly opened his eyes. 'May, although 1 deserve your scorn remember it is but a poor triumph to mock a dying mini.' Tho voice was so low and broken so unlike his former confident tone, that, in spite of her endeavors, May could not appear unmoved. 'Ooil forgive me,' sho answered, 'if there was aught of mockery in my tone; there was none in my heart.' 'Con you forgive j me, Mayf The words came fearfully and spasmodic ally. May heaven forgive you as freely and fully as I do this moment,' she answered, in a low, (ei vtnt tone. 'God bless you, May, you havo re lieved my heart of a terrible load. For a few moments there was a dentl, silence. Meringer then spoke; '.May, when you left me at tho gate this evening, I thought wo had met, for the last time; but hoaven had willed it otherwise. In a few hours 1 was to ftart te New York; when everything was rrady for my departure, an un accountable desire to soe you again took possesion of me. Telling my Fa ther I would be back in a few min utes, I started out alone. I intended to take my station beneath some tree, where, without being observed my self, I might view you through the window. 13y some fatality 1 chose dor it when it fell; ami tho judgmont, though terrible, hits beon just terri ble, in taking me oil' suddenly- just, in punishment nfj'my many crimes. As Louis finished, William, accom panied by tho physician and .Mr. Tier- inger, entered tho room. Tho doctor felt his pulse, and asked tho particlars; these -May gave, at the same time watching his f'aco with tho most In tense anxiety; but she could learn nothing of what was passing in his mind; nnd, on being insured that t hero was nothing wanted just then, sho aroso and went to her mother's room. 'I was about to go for you,' said .Martha, as .May entered tho room; 'your mother seems feverish and unea sy; but bless me, child, you aro wet through; here, put on these clothes immediately, or surely we will have you sick, too.' And honest Martha bustled about, and soon had her young mislress clad in dry and comfortable garments. "Do you not think," said she, as she put the wet garment. out of sight, "that the doctor had better come up here before he goes away." "Yes, yen," answered .May, quickly; "I will send him up iinmekiately.'' "Will he live, doctor!,, asked .May. as she glided in to the room. "He cannot; his wounds arc inter nal." A deep groan burst from Mr. .Mcr iuger's lips. " 1 knew it," said Louis, calmly. " May, will you send lor tho minister!" The servant was again despatched. May now requested the doctor to go to her molhes; he did so, and, on the arrival of the minister, .May followed him. ".My poor child," murmured Mrn. Herbert, as .May . nlered llie room. May clasped the cold hand in her's, ami pressed a kiss upon the care-worn brow; but no word escaped her lips. When half an hour had passed, the door was softly opened, ami the min ister entered the room; he approached ami whispered a few words in .May's ear; a slight start betrayed her sur prise, as sho bent and repeated the words to her mother. A faint smile overspread the dying woman's face. "I '.oil bless you, my child," she mur- inured, as May knelt beside I'1'1'---, j Once more slit! pressed her lips to he mother's, ami then follow the utinisi- ter from the room. W hen they entered the sitting-room Mr. Meringer aroso and too May's baud in his. 'May, my daughter," said he, in a low, earnest tone, "for such you shall henceforth be." He then approached Louis, whose countenance now shout! nilh a calm, resigned light. A happy smile lit up his lace as May approached. ".May, can you still sny you forgive me'!', "I do! I do!" she murmured, as she placed her hand in his. It was a solemn marriage scene that followed, in that little room, where the shallow of tho Angel of Death had already fallen. As soon as it was over, .Mr. .Meringer laid bis son's head back upon the pillow. "Father your promise remem ber." "Louis, Louis, my husband'" cried May, passionately, as she wound her arms around the form of the dying man. "May, my angel wife," murmured Louis, as she clasped her to his heart. The superhuman exertion which hail borne her through this dreadful night at length forsook her, and she was carried insoluble from tho room. )t was months before .May Herbert again opened her eyes in conciousness; and then, as soeu us she was able to leave her room, .Mr. .Meringer pre vailed upon he r to take up her resi dence at the Hall. .May was at first surprised at his kindness; sho did not know the change his son's death had wrought in the proud man's heart. "It is very lonrsonio there now," said Mr. .Meringer, sadly, "and more over, this cottage is too gloomy for you.' ay had no wish to remain at the cottage; it was indeed gloomy to her, for in one week her husband, her mother, and her child, had been buri ed from it. .May strove to be cheer ful; but the could never forget that dreadful night. It cast a melancholy shadow over her life For a few years she struggled on, over ready, with her purse or counsel, to uid the needy and distressed. She sought for and obtained that pe"" which the world cannot give, and then passed calmly and quieiy vay. She now sleeps oesiuc -- she loved; and a "'nph marks the spot where lies .May Herbert, the village belli. James Gibson disap. neareJ i'om tD0 T'"aSo tte morning Aer Louis .Meringet's death, and was er heard of after Number 13. WHAT DOES IT COST THE PRES. I DENT TO LIVE T A Washington correspondent has furnished quite an interesting letter, in which ho speculates at considerablo length upon this interestingqucstioo. After giving some unimportant de tails, ho says; "First, tho President receives twenty-five thousand dollars salary. Next, he (.receives ajhouse, garden nnd stables free of expense.-- . Tho house is furnished and the garden cultivated by tire government. Very nrticlcof furnituro necessary in fur nished by tho United States Tho government also lights and heats tho house. It pays or n steward fn tako earn of tho public property, and a. Iireman, and for no other domestic servants. Tho Kxccutivcoffice is la, the Executive mansion, nnd for the former tho government provides a pri vato secretary, clerks to the secretary, two messengers, and a porter. For all domestic servants, however, ex cept steward and fireman, the Presi dent must pay out of his own pocket. Ho must pay for his cooks, his butler, bis table servants, his coachman and grooms. Ace, &c., as any other person does who employs such a retinue of servants. He supplies his table, with the exception of garden vegetables, as any other private citizen docs, by his own purse. So with his stables. In short, tho only things furnished by tliegovertiinentarehou.se nnd furni ture, fuel and lights, steward nnd fire man, garden vegetables and flowers. All elst! is matter of private expense. With these items a basis of enlcu lation, any gentleman who keeps eigh teen or more servants of both sexes, who keeps a stable filled with horses, as does Mr. Uucliaiian. who dhiea persons, besides his own family, every day, and once a week gives a dinner to forty invited guests, can form somo notion how much out of twenty-five thousand dollars remains at the end of the year." SV INDLER.S. The day is gone wh.m we allowed, or gave a chance to any and every body to swindle us. About eighteen months ago we adopted a rule that foreign advertisers that is, persons living 'way up in the North and out of the State of Tennessee, should al ways pay in advance before we would advertise: for them. We were led to this step soon after being swindled by the Wbi.dicrando man, of New York, Kellog Ac Cooper, Syracuse, P. L coiir. New ( h leans. Carbin Ac Co., Hal timore, I). !'. Illnckburn, near Colum- bin, Tennessee nder-fon c Son Atlanta, tla. Well, we adopted our riilo in time to save being swindled by Drs. Summerville and 0. W. Gra ham, of Philadelphia, and tho "Dank Note Detector," man, and a host of others, who applied to us without suc cess, to get their advertising done on a credit. And it makes us sorry, aye, mad, to see some of our cotempora ries in newspaperdom, tilling their ol iimns lor these rascals. Why, wo havo received propositions of 850, $7.-, and more, if we would advertiso so much for them, for such a time. Applications came from Dr. Hoyt, of Syracuse, Dr. Morse of New York, Daniel Adee, Helumbolt, Castor, and lifty others, and wo had considerablo correspondence with sonio of them but we could not succeed in convinc ing them that "Sinco ninn is so unjust, We know nol whom to trust." Perhaps some of them would have paid uspvrfuipt, aye, "there's tho tub"jirrifips, not. Some of them even olfered us more than our rates, provided we would give them credit,' Some wanted us to take pay quarter ly. Somo wanted us to insert their advertisements and on receipt of pa per containing tho same, with our bill, they would remit. l!ut the Whisker autlo man caught us in that trap, and a "burnt child fwars fire." And yet, notwithstanding our cau tion, one man "got us" at last, we fear helms. We alludo to Harrison, lies sent Ac lienton, Commission merchants Atlanta. Georgia. In the Spring of 1857, March 120, a Mr. Harrison, an aged and gootl-loohing man, called in at the Home Journal office and desired the card of his firm at Atlanta inser ted for three mouths. He asked us if wo demanded the pay $5 in ad vance, saying that he needed all the money he had, and would remit tha amount to us as soon as he got home. Very kindly we handed his five dollar bill buck to him. believing he needed it aud believing he would do as ha said, ilo fc''cJ ,0 do - When the three months expired the firm wroto to us to continue tho card for one year We done so. So now it is two years sine j the card went in, and one year since the contract expired and tha card was taken out. We havo writ ten some five times for our pay, and in our last letter we told them we inten ded to "tell on them." We have done i so, and now, Messrs 'Harrison Drs-, sent & Denton," catch us again if yon., can. You arc not Southern men, or, you would nol have treated v mean. ' .