Newspaper Page Text
JfamiWisitor
PTTBUSItED BT . '
BENJAMIN G. LIDDON.
T. A. BURKE, EDITOR.
MADISON, GA.:
SATURDAY, JULY 26, 1856.
Local and other Hauers.
tW' We have been requested to state
that the Rev. Dr. Hott, of Athens, will
preach in the Presbyterian Church in this
town, on Sunday next, morning and after
noon.
ffZ* The mornings and evenings for a
•week past have been pleasantly cool, with
occasional slight showers of rain. Crops
promise badly in this section, 'though good
rains, of which there are lair prospects at
the time we go to press, would savo a good
deal of corn, oven at this late day.
We learn from handbills pitted up
in town, that the American Party of Mor
gan county will give a Barbocuo in this
town, on next Saturday, the 2d proximo.
A number of distinguished speakers have
b. , en invited and are expected to attend.
The Democracy bad a public meeting at
Fair Play, in this county, on Saturday last,
There were several speeches and a tree
bnrliecue.
yr Col. J. W. White, of Kansas, ad
dressed our citizens on Thursday night, at
the Court House. The Colonel claims to
be nothing moro than a rough “ border
backwoods ruffian.” Kansas Ims been
his home for thirty years, and ho is anx
ious to have it come into the Union with
a, pro-slavery constitution. He has been
In Georgia five months, and has seen 1105
emigrants, raised through his instrumen
tality, leave for tho territory. Ho will
continue to stump tho state in favor of
Kansas and the South, until a short time
prior to tho territorial election in October.
We wish him success.
IST The publication this week of Miss
Blovnt’b poein and several communica
tions, leaves us but little room for edito
rial. A careful reading of “A Fast Age”
will prove it worthy of all wo have here
tofore said in its praise. On our first page
a couple of original poems will bo found—
one of them from our ever welcome cor
respondent, Anni* or Bei.i.avux; theoth
or from onr long titno friend, Soiiwarzicn
mci. Srnkx, in reply to I.roiE I.ilao, is
rather severe, hut we think altogether just.
We commend his article to tho careful no
tice of our readers.
Snorer« ami Snoring.
“Heaven bless the man who invented
sleep,” quoth honest Sancho Punzn, and
many a poor mortal has reiterated the pi
ous benison of tho famous Governor of Bu
rataria. What a god-send this great in
vention has proved to the noble army of
poets, and authors, and clergymen and ora
tors of every sort, who would be altogeth
er unendurnblo but for this never-tailing
resource. Banish it from the world and
w!:at a 1 beggarly account of empty boxes’
should vve have at our churches, at lecture
rooms and on all public occasions, and
what a vast number of ‘ Sonnets to a young
lady sleeping,’ and such like, would he en
tirely lost to the world. But for the deep
sleep which fell upon Adam, we should
never have had that most glorious of nil
institutions—Woman. Somebody has re
marked that it was a blessed thing Adam
had a good nap on that occasion, for he
probably never enjoyed a quiet one after
wards. Not being a Benedict wo are un
able to pronounce this a slander on our
own responsibility.
The Irish have a legend that when a child
smiles in Its sloop, the angels are hovering
over nnd whispering to it. Pierce Pun
gent thinks differently. He cites tho case
of a poetic young lady, who said as her in-
fant nephew smiled: “Dear little one—the
cherubs are singing to it!” “Nonsense,
Polly,” cried her matter of fact mother,
“it’s not the cherubs—it's the colic.”—
Pierce declares that that there is an inti
mate relationship existing between “wind,
sleep and peppermint,” nnd tells us of
something ho read in an ancient
of a certain Mrs. G. who could n’t sleep on
account of the terrible wind which was
blowing out of doore. “ Horace, my love,
how dreadfully the wind howls; do n’t yon
hear it? I can’t sleep for it.”
“My dear,” said her better half, who
was a philosopher-, " open the window and
put a peppermint lozengo outsido.”
“ Why f” asked his wife.
“ Because,” quoth he, “ it's a good thing
to cure the wind.”
But tho wind is not tho only disturber
of dreams. There is a certain class of sleep
destroyers—veritable Macbeths who “ mur
der sleep” and think no moro of it than
does Miss Lccie Lilac of breaking a heart
—your fellows who make night hideous
with their nasal music, which seems to
quiet their own nerves in as great adegree
,as it excites other people’s.
Now, we insist that a great reform is
needed in this matter. Snorers should ei
ther he made to correct this abominable
habit, or some law ought to be enacted
compelling them to “keep themselves to
themselves.” After one has established a
reputation for the business, he is generally
avoided by his acquaintances, bnt unfortu
nately such fellows travel sometimes. Did
you ever watch a confirmed snorer worm
hiroself.into the good graces of a stranger,
unsuspicious of the trap lie is
falling into, agrees to share a room with
him? Poor fellow: he little ktjywe what
ttfllgfif w before him.
11l IAH1&I flilfil.
Why can’t this thing be corrected in ear
ly life! Children are taught propriety in
other matters, and why should not theheio
ousness of this offence against good manners
be pressed upon them ? Has a parent who
sends out a confirmed snorer fulfilled the
scripture injunction: “Train np a child in
the way he should go?” We contend that
no man has a right to go out into the
world with an unruly nose, which will not
allow otliers to enjoy their natural rest.
Night is a blessed gift of Heaven to man;
“ It robs the world of light,
To lend in lieu a greater benefit,
Repose and sleep.”
It is the season of rest and refreshment af
ter tho laltors, ami cares and troubles of tho
day; and when we put oat the candle we
at the same time desi.ro to put out the
world. Why then should he who rob* us
of this clear ami indisputable right be held
less culpable than he who filches from u s
our good name, or steals our purse ?
Wo well remember an awfnl night onco
passed at a public hotel. It was summer
time, and we came in tired and sleepy.—
There was a bright moon shining, aud its
silvery beams caino in through the open
windows and mado the room almost as
bright as day. There were two beds in
the apartment. We saw a strange pair of
hoots and appa-el not onr own alongside
of one o; the <i, und we knew ut once that
we lind a ro >m mate, but it caused us no
tine: si nest, for wo had no well filled purse
or o her valuables to tempt the cupidity of
the veriest pickpocket in tho land ; so we
turned in quietly, “to sleep, perchance to
dream.” We are of that unfortunate class
who cannot at oucc sink into astate of un
consciousness. We always have a job of
thinking to do, and generally enter dream
land by degrees. On this occasion wo had
almost gotten within its boundaries, when
a sound as of far distant thunder stole tip
on our ear. We listened but all tvns silent
again. Once moro we approached the land
of Nod, and again wc heard the mutterings
of thunder, hut this time not so distant.
At first tho sound was faint and indistinct
and then it broke forth more loudly.—
There was no mistaking it now. It t oat a
more, and it came from the other led! —
Bleep had departed from our eyelids and
we rose on our elbow in the agony of des
pair. From our earliest youth just such
fellows ns this one had been our secret hor
ror, nnd now wo were in for it without
hope of release. Onr neighbor, ns if awar.
of our *■ eelinks,” got worse nnd worse,
lie seemed to warm with his subject, nnd
his snoring became almost eloquent We
came near forgetting the dreary prospect
before ns in our admiration of the artist.
His snoring was the perfection of science,
lie drew in great quantities of air with a
snort, and then sent it out again like an
engine blowing off steam. His inspira
tions were like a flute; his expirations like
an opheoclido. Sometimes his breath grew
short, us if he contemplated dying in a fit,
and then it became long and sonorous like
the whistle of a locomotive. 110 groaned,
and sputtered, and gasped, nnd snorted;
in a word it was the most awfully magnif
icent specimen of nasal music we tmd or
have ever hoard.
But human endurance has its limits, and
ours were soon reached. Our patience—
not a largo supply at any time—was, like
Boh Acres’ courage, fast “ oozing out at
our fingers’ ends.” Should we endure it
passively, or “take lip arms against” such
“asea ot troubles, and by opposing end
them?” Was there anything in tho laws
of society which required us to allow this
fellow to make night hideous at our ex
pense? Such thoughts ran through our
brain, and tilings were fast approaching a
crisis, when the subject of our cogitations
turned over and his musio censed. For a
moment the silence was almost oppressive,
but wo thanked our stars for the change.
Now, thought we, for a good nap, anil
composed ourself for it. When you are
nervous and worried at night, it’s a good
plan not to think about going to sleep, if
you ean help it. So we began to build
air-castles, in the hope that slumber would
gradually steal over us. AVe had succeed
ed in rearing one pretty high, and were
about to introduce our imaginary ladye
love into it, when tlmtsnme muttering as of
distant thunder, smote upon our ear. We
recognised it in a moment, and down tum
bled the air-castle, burying onr ladye-love
in its rains. Tho second part of the pro
gramme was “like unto the first,”nnd the
performance was continued, almost with
out variation, until
“ Gray morn cum’ blinkin’ in the east.”
About sun-rise our mortal enemy got
up and made his toilet, as innocently as if
his conduct during the night had not been
past all forgiveness. He even “ hoped we
had passed the night pleasantly I” We de
tected, or thought we did, a slight touch
of sarcasm in his tone, and have always
believed that he knew what kind of a night
we had spent. We have never seen him
since, but the memory of that wretched
nocturnal sweltering has never left us.
If he should ever come into our neighbor
hood again we trust he may leave his nose
at home.
—*
Emory College.
We are pleased to learn that onr yonng
friend nnd townsman, Seaborn,!. Saffoi.d,
bore off the second prize for declamation,
at the late Commencement of this institu
tion. The first was awarded to D. G
Pfrbe, of Savannah.
We understand that a large number of
persons were in attendance during the
week and every thing passed off pleasantly.
Mr. George Hastings, a conductor on the
I South Carolina Railroad, fell from tho
train while it was in niotivo. Last Saturday,
nnd was killed.
Hr. Dallas and Prof. Haban at the
Queen’* Levee.
| Tho London Star, of the 27th June,
1 give* the following, no donbt truthful,
account of the affair of etiqnette, at the
Queen’* levee, which has been magnified
into such proportion* by the London
| Time* and other British journal*:
! “ Mr. Dallas departed from the Ameri
' can Legation house, to present himself
before the Queen, in the orthodox and full
dress suit, sword by his side, wl ite neck
erchief, and fanciful hat. He had received
authority trom his government to con
form, in such matters, entirely to the
usage of this country; and he believed, in
his own conscience, that it was only wise
and respectful to tho highest lady in Eng
land that such established ceremony' should
be observed. He was accompanied in bis
carriage by a gentleman of high military
education and standing in the United
States, who coveted the honor of being
presented to the Queen, and the antece
dent arrangement had been made for his
presentation in tho diplomatic circle.—
This gentleman, known to ourselves and
the public, from information that lias ap
peared in the correspondence department
of our journal, was dressed, not us the
Times tauntingly represents, in yellow
vest nnd frock coat, but with dress coat,
white vest, and military stock—entirely
in ail respects attired us lie Would have
been had he presented himself to his
commander-in-chief in his own country.
Tt did not occur to him or to the Ameri
can Minister that there could be any pos
sible objection to such a suit, and both
were most anxious to conform to every
State Court requirement, as a matter of
duty as well os of form. However, the
Master of the Ceremonies, Sir Edward
Oust, perceived that tho American gentle
man had come without a cocked hat and
sword, and a military cravat that could
not have Icon white; and in tho most
courteous and forbearing way he made
Mr. Dallas acquainted with the character
of liis instructions. Mr. Dallas, with
equal good feeling, and free from nil ex
citement, observed that he could scarcely
pass on to tho presence of tho Queen and
leave his friend behind him, and it was
immediately arranged that both should
retire. There was no ill-feeling on either
side, and no appearance of sncli a thing.
The American gontleinan felt he had made
a mistake in not properly inquiring into
the nature of conrt Arrangements, and tiie
Master of the Ceremonies appeared to be
very much grioved that his duty required
him to interfere. The matter then came,
we have been told, to the ears of *tho
Queen, nnd if it had been thought advis
able to have carried out her wish, there is
no doubt that a special messenger would
Imvo been despatched to tho American
Embassy’, desiring Mr. Dallas nnd bis
friend at onco to appear before her Maj
esty, no matter in what attire, and re
coivo from her own lips an expression of
regret that the arrangements of the palace
should have made it necessary for Sir
Edward Cust to interfere with their ap
proach. To say that Mr. Dallas was in a
pet, or to declare that tho English mon
arch was insulted, is only a piece of that
raving absurdity which such an organ as
tho Times newspaper alone can perpetrate,
and wo should not think it our duty to
take notice of it were it not from a deep
and sincere conviction that, the Times
helps greatly to form public opinion in
England, nnd is regarded by the Ameri
cans as an expression of English senti
ment.
“After all, the affair thus magnified into
sneh serious proportions was a mere inci
dent of the day, involving nothing beyond
a little side gossip at the elubs, and entire
ly meaningless, except ns an indication of
the force of habit and custom.”
This little incident has created quite a
sensation on this ns well as the other side
of the water. * Some of onr ultra-republi
can journals are a good deal exercised on
the subject, and declare this matter of
Court Costume to be all humbug, and con
trary to tho spirit of our Democratic in
stitutions. We bog leave most respect
fully to dissent from this opinion. The
same spirit would rob the military man
of the dress which distinguishes him from
the civilian,or thesailor ofthat which con
stitutes the difference between him and
the landsman. Costume lias its value and
eftect everywhere, and wo are not sure
that the total disregard of such things on
the part of some people in this country is
evidence of superior republicanism.
There is another view of this matter.
No gentleman desires to render himself
conspicuous in society on account of the
singularity of his dress. “When you are
in Rome, do ns Rome does,” is an old and
well tried maxim. Society, even in this
land of equality, nrescriW certain rules,*
which fashionable men tfirc conform to.
A Western baekwoods-Ujßmritli hunting
shirt and rifle, might to
fashionable ball room evening
party, but he would his position
altogether and unpleasant.
It is the policy of European governments
to maintain external shows, as Imposing
nnd compulsive of respect, and we see no
reason why our representatives at foreign
courts should bo compelled, either to treat
those who receive them with disrespect,
or, by' appearing in plain costume, ac
knowledge their own inferiority. It is
well known that wo are not simple and
frugal in onr manners and habits, and we
have no right to require onr ambassadors
abroad to publish any such falsehood to
the world.
Mrs. Julia Dean Hnyne was to make
her first appearance at tho Metropolitan
Theatre. San Fra-Beiseo, on the2A ultimo.
A FAST AGE:
A Composition read at tie Commencement nf the
Madison Female College, on Thursday, July 10th,
1856, by Mia* Annie B. Blockt, of Richmond
County, Georgia, — a member of the Graduating
Close:
The noiseless, unseen wheel of time, is swiftly
roiling on,
The good old days, like meteors, hare Sashed
away and gone,
Naught now remains to tell the tale of what
there was of yore,
Save some gent of the old school whom the
modern ones term bore 1
The very atmosphere seems changed, and faster
far live we—
“ Fast” Gentlemen, "Fast ” Ladies, Aid “Fast ”
horses nil we see;
4 nd “iron nags” on iron roads outstrip the
swiftest bird,
While on the telegraphic wire news from star is
heard.
Folks can’t elude the penalty of violated law,
When, thinking they’ve escaped it all, itclutches
with its paw j
To some fiir city off they fly, when oh! what
dread despair,
That little wire lias told it all —the police grabs
them there.
Oh! yes, these modern days are niro, “ grand,
awful and sublime
Had these improvements been foreseen in father
Noah’s time;
Or if in fancy he had viewed some fashionable
creature,
1 guess amazement would hare been depicted cn
each feature.
Don’t sigh about the “ good old times,” and make
such sad laments,
For if you do, we’ll surely think that you lack
common sense.
Why, in these days, the hill to fame is in a min
ute climb’d,
And every scribbler can leave a "deathless
name ” behind!
Had Walter Raleigh witnessed such, he ne’er
had writ this scroll—
Or even thought: —" I fain would climb, but that
I fear to fall.”
Before dark clouds, the weakest, faintest, do not
even quail,
But with a Is.ld, brave heart, repeat “ There’s
no such word us fail.”
There was a time when lightning fierce, und
thuuder were a dread—
When timid girls, with quaking hearts, jumped
in a feather bid;
Now to the world discovery great has Franklin
given birth—
He tamed the vivid lightning, and brought it
down to earth.
Time was when notions of the spheres were
mystery to all—
Who dreamed that it could be explained by one
small apple’s fall ?
Many burl “ seen the like ” before, hut Newton
learned the cause;
Posterity to listeumg cars proclaims his loud
applause.
Bat why . ho ild T on themes like these forever,
ever dwell f
My pen and I have other things that wo would
wish to tell,
This subject, now, by your consent, my truant
qiiili.cut short is,
And “ Young America” stands fuith to claim a
passing notice.
Unfurl your wings, neglected Musi—tune up
discordant lyre—
And nil bright Fancy’s beauteous pinions we will
mount up higher;
Children are out of fushiou now—but that you
all well know
To see a real live child would to all be “ one
grand show.” wr e\-
A teii-ycar-older looking now at sorffc forgotten
‘° y ’ . i
Would stammer, “I’ve forgol'its name—it only
suits u boy;”
To fly a kite, or such like nonsense, lie could uot
be bin and.
He’d yawn, “ I now must take a loll—l feel so
very tired;”
With dainty gloves upon thlieir hands, they feign
a used-up air,
And of a servant lazily demand a fresh cigar;
With “yellow-covered literature” on couches
they recline,
Then w..h reading, smoking, chewing, spitting,
spen 1 the passing ti.ne—
With “ huts upon their heads, they
jtru the crowded street,
And impudently stare and gaze at every one
thtyjfS^jtt—
With rtjeii-iiiids; t the buttor.-hole, and “fancy ”
punts and coat,
And “ flashy ” neck cloths tied around the very
slender throat.
Tho whining boy no more his text-books willingly
doth read,
To poems aud romances now he pnyeth greater
heed;
At any time he’d rather brave an outraged
parent’s wrath,
Than meet that horrible bug-bear—a school
mate’s dreaded laugh!
But place him in a billiard room, with those
who’ro never “ slow,”
Os wine and words ’twere hard to tell which will
the faster flow;
“The governor” (as Pa is termed) dou’t often
get about,
And knows not that his hopeful heir with such a
set is out;
Or if he scolded much, that heir would say, with
ready tact—
“l guess he must be crazy—don’t a man know
bow to act ?
He’s so old-fashioned—talks as though he hadn’t
been reclaimed—
That really of the governor I sometimes feel
ashamed l*
These boy-men for standing collars pay their
only shilling,
Or else in the Byronic style adjusted, look most
“ killing
Fathers are useless obstacles, save when they
want some cash,
By means of which the power is theirs to cut the
greatest da*'h»
By dint of rubbing, cutting, scraping, hopes and
chilling fears,
Just w’hen despair had gathered them, down on
the chin appears;
How carefully they shave and stroke, fearful some
action rash
Should fatally “ nip in the bud ” the long wished
f.r moustache;
And when at length, and no mistake, the darling
sets to crfNing,
Complacently they promenade, their canes so
“fancy ” twirling;
With goatees aud imperials too, and boots of
latest shape,
They that wild creature favor which the “ know
ing ones ” call ape ;
Their breath perfumed with whiskey punch,
poisons the very air,
And oaths pollute their youthful lips, a toper’d
blush to swear.
This system vile, to fear, continued
long will be,
As this is “ Young America,’* nnd people here
are free l .
With “bread and butter” Misses, too, whom
Byron so detested,
Our watering places, parlors gay, are evermore
infested;
Early emerged from nurseries, they mean to fly
about,
And let the listening world all know that they
havey ust come out.
With pinching, squeezing, tiny shoes, upon their
clumsy feet,
And small sham bennets on the head, they glide
along the street —
A bunch of flowers, a piece of lace, and then a
gaudy feather,
Form bonnets sweet, when in a heap, they all are
thrown together.
Oh! shades of Dunstables! come back and view
some damsel dashing—
First set me tell such hats are worn to keep the
puff*from maxhing —
The pretty faces hide no more, and screen from
pub'ic sight,
But all stand out “ in bold relief,” as if just fixed
for flight.
This dazzling creature sets the youthful hearts all
in a flutter—
They vow to love her always, too, and love none
other but her;
Gents think not when enchanted with her whirl
ingin the waltz,
Her skin, her shining curls, her heart are false
alike —all false.
Remember well, ere blighted hope life’s sweetest
dream embitters,
This goodly maxim learned of old, “All is not
gold that glitters;”
This, too, I warn, before you’re firmly caught
within the net,
Breastpins mode of vile brass sometimes contain
a gaudy set.
Oh! Truth, I pray thee do not bring thy magic
mirror here,
Or many a fair one’s heart would quake and throb
with untold fear;
Farewell, poor rouge! tears would soon bring
that “ light but guilty streak,”
Down it would stream, and “banish all the
beauty from that cheek.”
And oh! ye modern ball-room belles, I fain would
sing your praise,
Ye are so far superior to those of other days;
With haughty mien and stately step you walk
the last quadrille,
Your fair arms disencumbered of the old-timed
clumsy frill;
With gossomer-likc Kibes we see you floating in
the dance,
While “ Young America ” stands by and gazes
in a trance.
Match-making mothers with their hawk eyes
watch the deadly slaughter,
And wonder how you dare eclipse some pink and
white-faced daughter.
If poisoned shafts from oily tongues but had the
power to kill,
You soon would cease your flirting with some
handsome “ Tom or “ Bill;”
No more you’d tinge your Aided cheek with deli
cate carmine,
But like a withered violet you’d thenceforth blush
unseen.
These grandmas too, who self-conoeit and vanity
embody,
Like peafowls e’er are seen arrayed in ffeathers
rich and gaudy-^-
Bit ah! ’tis vain! the hand of time has left its
impress there,
The belle of sixty like sixteen can ne’er look fresh
and fair,
In vain the flowing, curling wig her silver locks
conceals,
The crow-foot on the forehead still the “ march of
years” reveals—
The raven and the nightingale alike can never
sing,
And Winter does not “seemly look” arrayed in
robes of Spring,
Though Mara was the reigning belle when she
“ was in her prime,”
She’ll murmur out affectedly: “ She was before
my time;”
’Though bidders hare passed by she stands in
market as of old,
Hoping some heart to win by her unfaded charms
of gold.
Where arc those good old men of yore, with cues
of silver white,
Within whose breast that article called heart was
fixed in right?
“Darby and Joan" have passed away, and in
their stead remain
Grumblers unfortunate who sigh: “Would I
were young again
Or if one by a miracle should live again on earth,
And mothers, too, like those of old, to cluster
round the hearth,
Instead of being reverenced, I have good cause to
fear,
They would be termed “old fogies,“ when tho
leaf of life was sere.
The daughter fair learns now to scratch and bang
some poor piano,
While some fast biped of the </enus homo stands
to fan her ;
Then loud, unearthly screams she yells,—her eye
ball upward turns,
While “ Ma,” forgotten, in the chimney corner
churns j
Her gems a queen might envy, and her dress is
rich and gay,
While “Pa ” (“ our overseer ” termed) out in the
field makes hay;
Her fingers ne’er a bed would touch—such work
would her degrade—
This plant for sunshine was created—never for
the shade—
To some French Madame’s school she goes, and
learns while there to flirt—
To angle well for human hearts, with mien and
manners pert —
To manufacture things deformed of paper, silk
and floss,
The which things understood to be must be
marked “ dog ” or “ horse
In heaven above —on earth beneath, or depths
below, I ween—
Such creatures by zoologists have never vet been
s ecu;
The like existence never had, ’till in this boarding
school,
So one might idols make of such, and break no
scripture rule.
Novels she learneth, too, to read—to doze and
sleep till noon—
Snarling, with teardrops in her eyes, for being
called so soon;
Then o’er Mazurka, polka, waltz, her precious
mind is brooding,
But, fur her life she couldn’t tell what was the
last new pudding;
She knows not if in cake is used cold water, milk
or wine,
About as well she could construct anew “ ship
of the line
She’d write “Childe Harold,’’ “Lalla Rookh,”
or “ Paradise Regained,’’
Almost as soon as she could cut a muslin or
delaine;
To brush a room! name it to her, she certainly
would Taint,
Or *' raise her hands in pion* horror, *’ blushing
through all her paint;
Her tiny fingers ne’er were made for such black
filthy work—
To think of such a thing! yon are a monster—
worse than Turk!
Away, old times, away, away, much better are
the new,
In modern days ’tis easy work to gain the name
of “ blue
Just place an inkdrop on your hand—giac idly at
some star—
Let everybody think your thoughts are wandering
afar;
Work at a poem night and day, with lips “all in
a pout,”
Gate at the crumpled, mis-spelled thing, then blot
and mark it out;
Some words about the moon pat in, and call it
“queen of oight,”
Scratch then your head, and dream awhile, won
dering “ what shall I write?”
Deface some Album with the lines; “I pray for
get me not,
My dearest and my darling friend, what e’er may
be thy lot
Or when someone unknown to yon, but in high
standing, dies,
In feeble verses, “long drawn out,” transplant
him to the skies;
Then in the fire the mannscript, all scribbled, must
bo burled,
Stick up “ Impromptu at the bead, and show it
to the world;
Place then the printed version high on some con
spicuous shelf,
For which you “ wooed the muses ” long, but keep
that to yourself;
Fill up, with “ love ” and “ midnight musings,”
papers by the dozen,
And soon the voice of Fame around your pathway
will be buzzing.
But then pray stop, don't write a solid book—it
will not“ pay "
The warning heed that says, “your talent does
not run that way j”
Or if a romance you e’er write in poetry or prose,
Fill it with “murders horrible,”and broken hearts
and woes;
Leave real life, and never let a well-laid scheme
miscarry,
But in the end your heroine must some rich nabob
marry;
All things, then, to your notion fixed, leave the
concluded talc
Like James of old: if carried farther, happiness
might fail;
Make Dives’ of the rich men all—Lazarus’ of the
poor—
But recollect, in real life it is not always so.
Then since all these advantages in modern days
we have,
I/et “good old times” be buried far beneath the
Lethean wave;
Who’d have them back ? not I, I’m sure: our
throats are safer now.
Since ’ncath (be yoke of tyranny our necks no
longer bow.
Admitted there are follies even in the present age,
The deeds impriuted arc more fair than on the
ancient page;
If little childreu premature rush on the stage of
life,
Why that’s their own look-out, not mine—so
farewell to the strife.
I own that I’m contented now—w< uld not recall
the past.
For e’en if there were roses then, the sharp thorns
followed fast; „
The ravings of the storm-king fled—the gentle
Spring comes on,
And who regrets old howling Winter with his
snows is gone.
If it be true, as said, the world turns round on
wheels nf gold.
We have good reason to suppose that it did so of
old;
If Vice triumphant rides the earth, and Virtue
blooms unseen,
I guess it was the same way, too, when “ good old
Bess” was queen.
“ Ignorance is bliss,” I’ll ne'er believe the poet
. who thus sings,
For every new year stores of knowledge and of
comfort brings;
Os old, the ills we have, they had—but not our
pleasures too - ’ -
So let the “good old times” alone-content be
with the new.
Written for the Visitor.
Flirtation.
REPLY TO LUCIE LILAC.
Mr. Editor: I have read, with some
interest, the communication of Lucie
Lilac, which appeared in vour paper ten
(lavs or two weeks since. The article in
question arrested my atteniton because I
thought I discovered in it the ingenuous
ness and freshness of a voting mind, not
yet bent in conformity to conventional
rule, or perverted by the arts of modern
accomplishment. I love to read the es
says of a young woman just entered npon
society; her talk is the sweet extract of
speech—the freshness and sparkle of soda
water before it becomes vapid by standing
—emanations from a young heart, yet un
embittered by con.act with the cold
charity of a censorious world. As I be
lieve Lucie, by force of companionship
and habit of association, will have evil
influences exerted upon her forming char
acter, and as she exhibits a decided pro
clivity to follow in the wake of certain
ladies I wot of, whose lives are histories
of heartless insincerity, I would gladly
exhort her, now in the begining erf life’s
voyage, to eschew a course frivolous in
itself, and surely disgusting and degrading,
if not destructive, in its tendency. Poison
tho fountain and the current waters run
on in their bitterness forever. Truth is'
the cardinal virtue around which only can
the other grace* cluster and flourish. Let
a woman cultivate her vanity by indulging
in flirtation, and she cultivates a passion,
which will ensure remorse, regret and
shame. A woman whose time is spent
in deceitfully combined contrarieties, en
deavoringto make false impressions, and
to enlist the affections of honorable men
to disappoint and betray them, and to
boast of her oonquest, should be con
signed to merited neglect, and remember
ed only as a reproach to her sex.
I wish to enforce upon Lucie, not so
much the injustice and harm, coquettes do
to men, as the positire injury they do
themselves. A man of spirit soon forgets, (
or remembers only with contemptuous
pity, the woman who trifled with his
heart; in his superior dignity he rises
above her treachery. A woman who, in
polito nomenclature, is known as a ver
itable “flirt, forfeits the respect and pro
tecting gallantry of men. Site who con
tinually studies tq deceive, that she may
decoy, to attain that she may blight,
and to rule that she may desolate, must
lose the confidence and esteem of the hon
orable, the upright and the good.
That “Flirtation—delightful Flirtation
gay, booyant and versatile” “ is the seal and
cement of society," I most emphatically
deny. Can a woman who lias dealt dis
honestly and labored during a life time to
deceive, entertain an exalted opinion of
the truthfnlness of others? By no means
she naturally judges the world by her
own standard. Does this distrust, this
want of confidence in the integrity of
human nature, “seal” and" solder society
into kindly communion and fellowship?
It does not. It breaks the bond of anion,
destroys that sweet intercourse which
confidence alone can sustain.
Lucie has nuconciously shadowed
forth iu the following quotation, the dan
gers which beset the “gay flirt," and the
great peril to which she subjects her
character. In one of her “illustrative
passages” she draws the amatory picture
of “whispering by an open window of a
summer evening’s twilight, or the clearer
deeper tones, upon an autumn walk by
moonlight; the laugh, the glanee, the rest
less motions in the hall room, with the ac
cidental and thrilling touch of ungloved
hands; the but ‘l'll see no more.”'
'Twere well not to fill the blank—'twere
well to drop the curtain, for behind it are
often fonnd the demonstrations of the
truth, that ‘where ignorance is bliss, 'twere
folly to be wise.’ But this we may say,
—and for the confirmation of the say’mg,
we can appeal to every true, or rather
every untrue woman, who has practiced
upon tlte rules of the Lilac school—every
flirtation, no matter how cautiously con
ducted, results in more or less injury to
female character. Modesty must he sacri
ficed or the flirtation must fail. The
virtue that does not shrink from the
'■'■thrilling touch of the ungloved hand,"
is to »ay the least of it, in danger of a fall.
Familiarity with scenes described by Miss
Lucie may leave a woman guiltless in
deed, but alas! with all the freshness of
feeling gone, all the brightness of inno
cence dimmed, the mirror has been
breathed upon, and no longer gives back
the clear reflection.
Flirtation is dangerous to the future
welfare of a woman, because, she must fre
quently have her affections somewhat
engaged, and albeit she is scarcely robbed,
the little losses in time tell npon the af
flnence of her heart and she is left poor in
spirit, When having flirted to her entire
satisfaction, and site begins seriously to
think of marrying, of getting someman to
take care of her for the balance of li c,
what inducements can she offer? A
bankrupt heart, its assets frittered away,
sqnandered and gone—cold and sterilo as
“Greenland’s icy mountains.” Who would
marry such a wreck of a woman, tlii*
widowed maiden? Who would not, I ask,
spurn the profered hand l for heart , sho
has none. How forlorn must be the
state of that woman who has passed
the spring time of life in flirting, and, by
the insincerity of her manner, and the
known worthlessness of her promises, been
directly the cause of consigning herself to
tho opprobrium and neglect of honorable
men and discreet women. Alone, with
out man and without hope in the work’,
she stands aloof—a female Ishmaelite in
the land. We cannot pity her condition,
nor entertain for her feelirgsof ccimnis
seration, —the universal verdict issbe mado
Iter bed hard, let her lie upon it.
What becomes of a castaway flirt, her
charms gone, her artifices known, and her
moral destitution published ? Is she
wealthy ? then in this age of coined hearts
and golden opinions, with a balance sheet
of her dear father's estate, she may be suc
cessful in acquiring a man, but not in
winning a husband who will cherish her
in sickness and in health, and in times of
affliction and distress, enfold her but
closer and more tenderly to his bosom.
She must expect to select from the venal
crowd some mercenary calculator, who,
for and in consideration of her stock in
trade, bargains, and agrees, to keep
her through life. Possibly the man may
coldly comply with his agreement, bnt
love plays no active part—policy rule*
him into submisive compliance.
Is she pretty, bnt poor and proud ? then
she is truly in the market, up for sale, a
bait for some wealthy sensualist. She is
as much an article of traffic ns the Cir
cassian in the mart, the difference being
that the latter is offered against her will,
while abandoned ooquettes freely, anxious
ly offer themselves, —kind Christian
parents eneonrags the trade, and deliver
np with delight their danghters to tho
lucky purchaser, the highest bidder, tho
dear good man, who has much goods
laid up in store. Parents conduce to this
kind of serfdom by their worshiping of
money. Little they care for intelligence,
probity, taste, temper, age, health, habits,
person or paternity, only let the contrac
tor for the daughter have money suf
ficient and he is to them, and to Flirtillaa
love of a man. I verily believe that the
Sultan of Turkey, with his wealth of
treasure, could if he desired, fill Stam
boul with women from the States.—
A woman thus situated, a pensioned slave,
dependent npon the bounty of her master,
what of peace or pleasure can she expect
to enjoy ? Such are some of the conse
quences of flirting; for the victims I havo
no sympathy—they deserve none. lA‘
them linger and die, a warning to heart
less flirts and mercenary young women.
SENEX.
Madison- Georgia.