2",T1I tfM 3 r 7 : - jTC. ji
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. ' .