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About The Lumpkin palladium. (Lumpkin, Georgia) 186?-???? | View Entire Issue (Dec. 15, 1860)
xinuDniii Hauauiitin. VOL 1. ®|)t M’nntphin WATKINS & WRIGHT, EDITORS AXD FROVRIETORS. ■ —— ■» ——7T7ZZL PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING. Tejyus of Subscription. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR. IN ADVANCE. Terms of Advertising. One square -12 lines or less) first insertion. $1 00 Each subsecjthut insertion 50 One square 12 months 12 00 One “ t> “ 800 One “ 3 “ 500 Business Cards of one square or less 1 year, 10 00 Two squares 12 months 20 00 Three “ 12 “ 25 00 Half column 12 “ 50 00 For a column 12 months 100 00 Announcements of County candidates.... 500 “ of District “ .... 10 00 Legal advertisements at legal rates. Advertisements sent with no time specified will l>e published till forbid, and charged accordingly. Original Stout 7 WRITTEN FOR THE LUMPKIN PALLADIUM. PRIDE; O R LIFE'S VICISSITUDES. CHAPTER I. It was late iit the afternoon of a cold day in December, 1836, that a gentle man might have been seen ascending the steps of a mansion situated in an aristocratic portion of the city of Balti more. The exterior appearance of the house gave evidence of the wealth of its proprietor. It was a large three, story building of the modern style of architecture, with a capacious doorway.' The gentleman appeared to be about forty-five years of age, and was of me dium statue. He was well protected from the inclemency of the weather by a fine, heavy black overcoat, which he unbuttoned as he shook the snow from ■ his overshoes, and entered the hall of his residence.. Charles Tyler, the gentleman we have I introduced, was the chief partner of one of the wealthiest commercial houses • in the city, doing business under the name of Tyler & Co. The Co. comprised a young man named Williams, who had formerly been employed by his senior partner as clerk; and having gained in this capa city the confidence and esteem of Mr. Tyler he was allowed an interest in the business. Another reason which influenced Mr. Tyler in doing this was, that Williams had a family to support, and he wished to afford him an oppor tunity of doing something for himself and family. Charles Tyler was not always wealthy —he had commenced business in a small way, and by energy and strict honesty soon won patronage. So by degrees he became rich, but his wealth made no change in his opinions, tastes and habits, for he was a man of sound common sense, and benevolent in every sense of the term. Yet though his views were unaltered by the sunshine of prosperity, his wife and daughter could not withstand the trial, and as he entered his mansion at the time above referred to, he said: “How bitterly cold it is!” “Yes,” replied his wife, “and Clarissa and I have been anxiously awaiting your coming. We have a project in view, and wish you to acquiesce in it.” “Well, my dear, what is it?” “We wish to give an entertainment to our fashionable friends, and we have been talking about an assembly.” “Yes, pa,” chimed in his daughter Clarissa, “the Howards have given one, so have the Keys, and we must do so too.” “So my wife and daughter wish to add the Tylers to the list of foolish spendthrifts?” “How can you use such language, Mr. Tyler? Is it foolish to provide an entertainment for our friends where we can enjoy ourselves? On the contrary, it produces a state of congeniality that does good.” “My dear wife, allow me to speak plainly. You do not wish to give an entertainment to our friends. The fashionable, the heartless throng which you would invite are not our friends Let us but once stand in need of their friendship, and you can then test their friendly feelings; and instead of doing good, as you say, my opinion is, that these assemblies do a great deal of harm.” “How so?” “Why, in the first place, it is a waste of money; it is absolutely throwing away money on people who do not stand in need of it, and in away too that can be productive of no gqpd.— The same amount would provide a sub stantial dinner lor a large number of poor men, or it would preserve the lives of many who are freezing to death here in our midst. This is a very severe , winter, and many are in want. Again, ■ my dear wife, we are setting a*bad ex- I ample, for there .are those of our neigh | bors who would follow in our wake, J and could not afford it. True, they live !in the same style we do; their wives ! and daughters dress as well as you and Clarissa; but 1 know the men in a busi ness capacity; I know the difficulty they have in meeting payments and re turning money. Their families, 1 sup pose, do not dream of the misery that their luxurious style of living causes.” “Well,” replied Mrs. Tyler, “for my part, I think if people arc such fools, they ought to suffer. • They should not assume a position in society which they do not deserve. Society should be rid of such pests; but as it is, it is impos sible to know who you are associating with.” “But people are foolish enough to be proud, and society never will be rid of them. It is this society which forms their tastes and dispositions, and the very spirit of this society is pride.” There was a great deal of further argument pro and con, but at last Mr. Tyler yielded. He was not convinced by anything advanced by his wife and daughter, that the position he had ta ken was a false one; but then he dearly loved them, and seeing a stern refusal would cause them much unhappiness, he, against his better judgment, gave his consent. chapter n. How true, dear reader, were the re marks made by Mr. Tyler. How true ; it is, alas! that, some people are so fool-' ish as to be proud. Well has the Holy Book given us a true proverb, “Pride goeth before destruction.” Pride is too frail a bark to last long upon the ocean of life. She appears very pretty and trim when she is “decked in gorgeous array” and launched forth for her voy age; but when the tempest roars, and the sea rolls roughly, every timber in her shakes. Every one in Mr. Tyler’s residence soon began to make the necessary ar rangements for the anticipated fete. Mrs. Tyler and Clarissa too had their share of the business, for they found it necessary, in order to have all things done properly, to give the whole their supervision. The tickets of invitation were backed by Clarissa in beautiful style, and she was assorting them for delivery, when her father coming in and glancing over them, said: “Why, my dear child, you have not invited Henry Morton!” “Pa, we don’t want him hero.” “We don't; but I do, my daughter.” “Ma would never listen to such a thing. And 0, pa, what a figure he would cut! Why, even if we were to invite him his own good sense would induce him not to accept.” “Why so, Clarissa?” “He is not accustomed to mingle in the society that will be represented here. He would be at a loss how to act; in fact, he would be “a fish out of water.” “My opinion is, that he is perfectly competent to Itehave as a gentleman, and therefore I wish him invited.” “Ma,” exclaimed Clarissa as her mot]], er at that moment entered the room— “pa wants me to invite that Henry Mor ton!” “Why, Mr. Tyler, you don’t think of doing such a thing, do yon?” said the wife. “I do,” was the calm reply, "and I do not see why you should object.” “Why, it would be an insult to our fashionable friends. He is not known in society.” “Well, then, we will introduce him. We could not honor a worthier person; and if any should feel themselves in sulted by his presence, they need never come to my house again.” “Well, pa,said Clarissa, “if you in sist upon it, he shall receive an invi tation, but it will throw a damper on our enjoyment if he should come.” “I do not think so, and when once you know him, you will alter your ' opinions.” “This ended the conversation, and Henry Morton’s name was added to the list of invited guests. Who was Henry Morton? He was a young man who had known poverty from his infancy, and by indus trious habits and upright conduct had gained a host of friends among those LUMPKIN, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 15, 1860.’ whose friendship was worth something. His parents, before dying and leaving him an orphan, impressed his mind and heart with holy things, and gave him the right direction in the pursuit of true happiness. He had commenced the study of the law, but for want of the necessary means, was compelled to labor a good part of the time, and that at trifling wages. Some of his friends introduced him to the notice of Mr Ty ler, who was in the habit of having a large amount of writing done. This Henry could do as well as any lawyer. It was not long before he won the es teem,’. Confidence and friendship of Mr. i Tyler, and he soon became a frequent i visitor at his residence. Not to the magnificently furnished parlor, from whence he often heard the merry laugh of Clarissa as he entered the hall; but to a cozy little room in the second sto ry, which Mr. Tyler had fitted up as a library, and where he spent the most of his evenings with his books and papers. It was here where he was always plea sed to sec Henry Morton, and where an intimacy sprang up between them. Henry was about making arrange ments to graduate in his profession at the opening of our story. ' chapter hi. The evening’ fixed upon for the party at length arrived. It was a clear, cold, bracing night, in every respect favor able to the attendance of a large por tion of the invited guests, and they were there dressed in splendor and magnificence. How dazzling was the scene. Two large chandeliers lit up the gorgeously furnished parlors; two splendid mirrors reflected the fashion ably attired forms that were buzzing to and fro. Clarissa and her mother spar kled with jewels. The company was nearly all assembled, when the name of Henry Morton was announced. At his entrance, every eye was turned towards him. That name was an unfamiliar one to the society there assembled. Who could it be? was the inquiring thought of all. “Ah, Mr. Morton, happy to see you,” said Mr. Tyler, as he shook him cordi ally by the hand. It was, however, some time before Henry felt at case. In fact, he did not until Mr. Tyler succeeded in getting him and several elderly gentlemen in a corner of the room engaged in conver sation. In the meantime the beautiful and witty Clarissa was surrounded by a crowd of vain, empty coxcombs, who were destined to shine in no other place than where they were. “ Who is that awkward genius talk ing to that bld gentleman in the cor ner?” asked one of them. “ 0, that’s a young man by the name of Morton. I don’t know anything more about him. lie’s an acquaintace of Pa’s.” “ Rather verdant, hey, Miss Clar issa ?” “ Decidedly so ” “Does he reside in the country, or is he a city acquaintance ?” “He resides in the city, but I know nothing of him.” This of course put an end.to all fur ther inquiry upon the subject. Little did Morton think that he was an object of so much curiosity, and as the com pany present had no pleasures for him, he retired quite early. There was one among the many who would gladly have entered the lists as suitors for Clarissa’s hand and fortune, and upon whom she looked with some 1 degree of favor. He was the son of a | wealthy family, and had always been | accustomed to handle plenty of money. I He was now a law student, but it was i uncertain whether he would ever finish I his studies. Early in life, soon after "quitting college, he went into hii? fath er’s establishment, intending to become acquainted with the business and take j charge of it. The life of a business I man soon became distasteful to him, i and he resolved to try a profession. I He then studied medicine but soon left ; it. He next took to law, and as his in clination to study was not very strong, his progress was not rapid in knowl edge. This was the individual, who was, 1 apparently to his own delight, evident -Ily the favorite of Clarissa. Why, it j would.be difficult to say, unless it was because he cut a handsome figure. This young gentleman was, of course, in the height of his enjoyment at the party. It was quite late when the company ! disbanded. At length all were gone. ' Mrs. Tyler had Dot enjoyed herself as ' much as she anticipated, and when she gazed upon the disorder of her rooms, and thou’ght over tlie many little inci dents which had occurred to mar her enjoyment, she vowed within herself, that this should be the last. A few months after, Henry Morton graduated in his profession, and re moved to a western city, where there was a greater probability of obtaining a good practice. < CHAPTER IV. • Williams, the partner of Tyler, unfor tunately formed the acquaintance, and became the companion of wicked asso ciates. He neglected the society of his family during the evenings, and was the constant visitor of a fashionable sa loon. Gambling, too, took possession of him. Mr. Tyler was ignorant of the habits his partner was forming, and never dreamed of the ruin that was im pending over him. One evening, Williams, while under the influence of liquor, was tempted to take part in a game where the stakes were very high. The result was soon decided —he lost. He was disappoin ted, chagrined, and excited, and deter mined to play another game that he might recover what he bad lost. Again he was the victim; and it was a hard matter for him to withstand the .jeers of his companions in evil. “ Try once more, Williams,” said one, “fortune favors the brave.” “Another time, it is late now,” he replied. “ Well, then, to-morrow night.” Williams had already lost every thing—more than he could possibly af ford, although he retained his interest in the business. But feeling that his lucky star was not in the ascendant, he thought it prudent not again to tempt fate that night. The next evening, however, found him at his post. He had nothing to stake but a promissory note belonging to the firm. He came out winner, but not to the full extent of Ins loss. I ecu. ■/- encouraged, and knowing that there vas a necessity of getting more back, he tried again, and lost. The small hours of the morning were beginning to advance, yet still he played, though he had lost every thing, the promissory note included. He now determined to make a bold stroke. He drew a check for a large amount, with the signature of the firm attached to it, and staked it—and lost. With a haggard countenance and de jected air, he left the place, forming plans to keep the matter from coming to the knowledge of Mr. Tyler, until he should win a sufficient amount to pay the check. He succeeded; but at last he ventured so far that a discovery was inevitable. The next morning 1 , Mr. Tyler won dered why Williams was not at busi ness at his regular hour. Thinking that he might be detained by illness, he sent a clerk to make inquiries, but was told, on the return of his messen ger, that Williams had not been home since the previous day, and that his wife, not knowing how to account for his absence, was quite uneasy. At an early hour Mr. Tyler com menced to attend to his banking busi ness for the day, and sent a check for a sum of money to bank. Judge of his surprise when he was informed that no money was in the bank to the credit of the firm/ Hastily proceeding there, he was shown several checks to a large amount which had been paid. He was ■ thunderstruck. Vague suspicions form ed themselves in his mind, but as he lujdmpt the slightest knowledge of what Williams had been doing, the real truth did riot appear to him. Upon asking who presented the checks for payment, he was given the name of anoted gam bler, who had also left for collection a large note signed in the same hand writing as the checks. “ Let me see it,” said Mr. Tyler. It was handed to him, and as he glanced over it, he threw it down on the counter, exclaiming : “I am a ruined man.” It was, alas, too true. Everything he possessed was swept away from him. lie subsequently discovered that even promissory notes drawn to his or der, and which he supposed Williams had deposited for discount, were among the missing. lie determined, however, to bear his misfortunes bravely. He was conscious of doing no wrong him self, and with the firm intention of mak ing the best of the matter, he consulted an old and esteemed friend, governed by whose advice, he immediately made an assignment of all his affairs, for the benefit of his creditors. He returned home late that day, and entered his fine residence with a heavy heart He knew that he must soon leave it. It had been built according to his own taste, and fitted up with many conveniences for his own comfort. What he dreaded most, however, was the breaking of the sad news to his wife and daughter. Mrs. Tyler on hearing it went into convulsions. Not that she once thought of the anguish of her husband’s mind, or of his future dif ficulties—but the idea of changing her princely residence for an humble one— of discharging her servants—of parting with her carriage—of never being able to hold up her head when she met with any who composed the society of which she had been a member—these were the horrors that caused her distress. Clar issa, however, did not appear to take it so hard. She had a little of the stam ina of her father in her nature. She slied a few tears, but when in reply to the question, “And now, dear father, what will you do?” he comforted her with the assur ance he could g'et along well enough if they would do all they could to re trench expenses, she appeared perfect ly reconciled to the change that was soon to take place in their circumstan ces. Ah, thus is life ! The fickle goddess, Fortune, may in a moment cease her gracious smiling, and disappoint the recipients of her favors. chapter v. In a town of some importance in tnc west, there was, during the session of one of their courts, a crowd of persons assembled around the court house. The student of human nature would here have had a variety of interesting subjects, representing so many different characters. Interest was depicted up on the countenance of all. while here and there a number were gathered to gether, engaged in conversation upon evidently an exciting topic. What was the cause of this assem blage ? Two men in the neighborhood had been intimately connected in busi ness. When one was short of a suf ficiency of funds, the other was always ready to extend a helping hand. One of these men was a scoundrel, and when his rascality could no longer remain undetected, he suddenly fled to parts unknown, leaving his friend minus sev eral thousands. But more than this, he had by false representations, suc ceeded in getting his friend’s najne to several pieces of paper which bore the evidences of fraud. This to him was quite serious. The community at large 1 believed him to be innocent of any guilty purpose, but some who were de frauded by this act of villain} 7 pretended to believe that he was a party to the affair, with a criminal intention, so they determined to make an effort to hold him responsible. His trial was now to take place; and the crowd was im mense. A few moments previous to the appointed hour, a dignified person age arrived in a carriage, and, as the crowd fell back to allow him to pass, he leisurely entered tlic hall of justice. The appearance of the Judge was the signal for all to prepare for trial. It was rather a difficult matter to obtain a jury to decide the case, but at length it was accomplished. The indictment was read, and the evidence was offered. The documents brought forward by the prosecution were certainly strong. The evidence for the defence consis ted merely of the affidavits of certain respectable persons to the integrity of the accused. When all had been given the prosecuting attorney arose and ad dressed the jury. He quoted numerous authorities, and in an able manner ac quitted himself. As he proceeded, his poor, innocent victim felt hopeless of his case, and as the testimony was summed up his friends too partook of his dismay. After he had closed his long and masterly effort, the counsel for the de fence arose to reply. lie was a fine looking man ; nobleness was stamped upon every lineament of his counte nance. lie had achieved a reputation for his legal knowledge and his oratory that was certainly enviable, but none dared hope that he would be able to clear his client now. But as lie grew .warm, as he exposed the wholesale vil lainy of the affair, the hopes of the pris oner and his friends brightened, and when he took his seat-, every mind was impressed with the innocence of his client. The jury found a verdict of “ not guilty” without leaving the box. As the joyous crowd departed, loud were l they in their praises of Henry Morton, I the attorney for the defence. “ I say, that Morton is a trump,” said i one. “ That’s 8o,” chimed in others. “ By the by,” said another, “we will have to select a new congressman short ly, and he’s the very man.” “ Agreed,” was the general cry. Many similar rettiarks were made as Henry passed to his hotel. On his way he met an old friend from his native city. A long conversation was the con sequence, in which he received the in telligence of Mr. Tyler’s reverse of for tune. He was greatly surprised, and at once resolved to go to him and see if he could assist him. A few weeks af terwards he found himself once more amid familiar scenes. He found his friend, Mr. Tyler, doing a small busi ness on borrowed capital. His family resided in a small, but genteel looking house, in a respectable neighborhood. Upon inquiring strictly into the causes which led to the misfortunes of his •friend, Morton discovered a chance of regaining a good portion of the money from the gamblers who had made Wil liams their victim. In this he was eventually successful, and again was Mr. Tyler able to move in fashionable society. To the credit of Mrs. Tyler, be it said, that in her humble position she under went a radical change. So much so, that to her last days, society was an ob noxious word to her, and she learned the soundness of her husband’s senti ments upon Pride and Wealth. Clarissa had also changed for the better. She was naturally a kind and sensible girl, but false opinions and ! prejudices had been inculcated by the ■ mother. Os course, the change in the mother had its due influence on the I daughter. She no longer scorned Hcn ' ry Morton, nor would she had he been i the poor youth Jiat he wag when she ■ first knew him. In fact, he was now looked upon as their benefactor, and ! became intimate with the whole family. But more than this, the wealthy legal student, who was a student yet, and who had been the worshipper of Claris sa, ceased his attentions as soon as her father’s failure was known. Henry Morton, However, learned her to love ; him, and soon they were married, and I as year after year rolled on she blessed j the day that gave her such a kind and loving husband. Footsteps of Day. I saw the maiden morn go forth, and her steps were soft and still, To load her golden pitcher at the sun fount on the hill; And as she bowed her meekly down, the bride groom of the day Stole by, and with his fiery breath kissed Night's dew tears away. I saw the maiden yet again, but her looks were proud and high, And scarce earth’s bossy shield could bear the fire darts of the sky ; And the bridegroom lay beside her, his giant limbs out-spread; Far in the noontide slumber, on his azure ban nered bed. I saw the maiden yet again, but her feet were hur rying on, As ’twere some hooded pilgrim, ere yet Iris journey done;. Quenched was the sunlight of her eye, and the dews hung on her breast, While evening flung her jjurple scarf athwart the shadowed West. I saw the maiden once again, and as she passed in flight, The moon with many a sister star came dancing into sight! And sadly soft on spirit wings, as the victim rolled away, Fell down the night's dark curtain on the cham bers of the day. The Burdock and the Violet. It came up in a garden, that burdock, just behind the violets and close up to the rose bushes. It was in the corner close up to the fence, and we said we would let it stay, and it should have i all the kind care and the gentle atten- ■ tion that the roses and the violets had. Roadside burdocks we knew were . coarse vile things, with their dusty I leaves and their sharp burs ever ad hering to the passers-by and we would like to see what a garden burdock would be like; whether it would, be bright and fresh and delicate lor grow ing in such sweet company, and so we were merciful and let it stay. And it grew among the roses and the violets, and gentle hands watered it often, and the earth was softened a bout the roots just as for its fairer : neighbors; but it waited not for them in its progress uptfard. It shot up, rank and tall, and vtide leaves spread all abroad and threatened to cover up and obscure its less assuming neigh bors, And at last the blossoms came.- They were large and strong and armed with keen thorns, and the flowers chan ged into burs, and they reached out their thorny fingers and grasped the passer. - >y, and the White diist lay thick on the rough woolly leaves, and the seeds flew out on the wind to seek lodg ing places, where another year a new crop should find foothold and suste nance A little violet crept through the fence ami looked up brightly beside the hard and dusty street, and we said we would let it grow there; and so it grew.—• Water it had none, except from celes tial fountains ; care it had none, ex cept front sunshine and sweet dewsand the kindly glances of the pasger's-by; yet there it lived and bloomed sweetly, “wasting its sweetness on the desert air.” Its green leaves were as green as its cherished kindred of the flower bed, and its blue eye reflected as hope fully as the blue of the summer sky. So we said to ourselves, outward cir cumstances and mere surroundings are but little after all, and if change to Nature comes, it must be a work deep inwrought by other than earthly hands. Men talk about being tired of Greek and Latin, and of wanting some other models of taste to be set before their children. What models, except those of the very highest intrinsic mer it, -would have borne all the wearing and hackneying, all the rise and abuse, which the classics have bad to bear, without being absolutely disgustful? Y\t they have still retained their sway and their honor; the secret of their iin destructible freshness is their unaffec ted grace and their simplicity. The Georgia girls are appearing in homespun. At the recent State Fair, not the least attractive feature of the day was the appearance on the grounds of thirty-seven ladies, teachers and pu pils of “Spring Hill School,” attired in a substantial check homespun dress, made fashionably filll and flowing.— Thirty-seven blooming, bright-eyed fiputhern lassies, in cloth of Southern manufacture, of which the staple was peculiar to their homes, was, says a lo cal paper, a sight worth seeing on a Southern fair ground.— Baltimore Amer cant Love is like heaven, because it wraps the soul in bliss; like salt, be cause it relisheth; like pepper, because it very often sets one oil fire; like su gar, because it is sweet; like a rope, because it is often the death of a man; like a prison, because it often makes him miserable; like wine, becarise it makes us happy; like a man, because it is here to-day and gone to-morrow; like a woman, because there is no get ting rid of it; like a will o’wisp, be cause it often leads one irito the bog; like money, because it often makes a man a fool. Empty, consequential people have, generally, a strong aversion to men who think, for many other reasons, and because it is extremely probable that such persons arc not thinking about them. If a learned man converses learn edly, men are disposed to Condemn him as a pedant; if he makes no display, • they give him but little credit for that reserve which custon, or, perhaps, even delicacy toward them, imposes. The enjoyments of childhood are as nothing compared with those of our riper years, and are pleasanter to look back upon than in the reality. They are those of health, innocence, and senses, -while manhood’s are these, with those of the more ecstatic sort added to them. Os very much of our present church music it is not perhaps too much to say, that it is simply execrable. — If music is ever of service in exci ting devotional feeling, it is surely worth while to have it of the best. Business is but a means. To forget this, and to live for it and in it, as an end, is a cardinal and pernicious mis take to which most of the want of elevation ascribed to the mercantile character is to be ascribed. Many persons, it is said, are en-- emies because they do not know each other. They are oftener such because they do. NO. 3.
