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VOLUME X.
Select pottnj.
WHERE TO GO AND WHERE TO
STAY.
Tell me my rural frieud, dost know some pleasant
spot!
Some pastoral vale, some flowery dale, some
secluded cot—
Half hidden in the fragrant vines that round it s
lattice creep,
'Wherethrough the long hot summer months,
they’ll board aftiler cheap f
He stood awhile, then sighing—long and deep
He answered slowly— 4 * Y -a-a-s, all but the cheap.*'
Tell me, my little bird, that trills on yonder tree,
Know’st thou some sweet enchanting-pot, some
Island in the sea,
Where I can gaze upon the deep, and dream the
hours nwav,
And cat and drink, and smoke and sleep, and
have no bill to pay.
A booby sportsmen drilled the bird with shot
Before he told me if he knew—or not.
Tell me, my gentle wind, is there a tranquil place
Where haughty “nobs’* and vulgar “snobs** hare
never shown their face,
Where heartless belles dou’t flirt, and sin, and
smile the hours away—
And change their dresses, l : kc their love, u dozen
times a day ?
The gentle winds made not the lenst reply,
But whistled cooly as they wafted by.
Oh say, my fast young friend—l know you’ve
been around.
The “Falls’’and “Springs,” and sen-side, too,
say where is comfort found :
Is there a place where folks don’t do worst the
thut’sdone in town,
M here rum and gambling are unknown—where
rogues won't do you brown /
My fast young friend had not a word to say,
But twirled his cane and slowly walked a wav,
Tell me, my secret heart, tell me where shall I
go?
I’ve asked of everybody most—nobody seems to
know—
Vet everybody semstobe preparing for a start.
The city will a desert be—where, when shall Too,
my heart ?
Theu cairn an answer from heart, low down,
If you love solitude, JCST STAY IX TOWN!
TO A BELOVED ONE.
Heaven hath itsciwu of stars, the earth
Utr glory-rode of flowers—
The sea its gems—the grand old woods
Their songs and greening showers;
The birds have homes, where leaves imd blooms
In beauty wreath above;
High yearning hearts their rainbow dream—
And we, sweet, we have lore.
I know, dear heart, that in our lot
May mingle tears and sorrow ;
But, Love’s rich rainbows built from tears
To-day will smile to-morrow.
The sunshine from our sky may die,
The grecuuess from Life’s tree,
But ever, ’mid the warring storm,
Thy nest shall shelter’d be.
I *ee thee, Ararat of my life,
Smiling the waves above;
Thou hail’st me victor in the strife,
And beacon’st me with love.
The worM*may never knowy dear heart,
What I hare found in thee;
But, tho’ nought to the world, dear heart,
Thou’rt all the world to mo.
OLD DOG TRAY.
The morn of life is past,
And evening comes at last,
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Os merry forms I’ve seen
Upon the village green,
Sporting with my old dog Tray.
CHORUS.
Old dog Tray’s ever faithful,
Grief cannot drive him away,
He’s gentle, he is kind;
I’ll never, never find
A better friend than old dog Tray.
The forms I called my own
Have vanished one by one,
The lov’d ones, the dear ones have all passed away
Their happy smiles have flown,
Their gentle voices gone ;
I’vo nothing left but old dog Tray.
When thoughts recall the past,
Ilis eyes are on me cast;
I know that he feels what my breaking heart
would say:
Although he cannot speak
I'll vainly, vainly seek
friend than old dog Tray.
CENSURE NOT THE HEART.
Ob censure not the heart that loves,
However strange a choice we see;
Each gentle spirit knCws its mate,
Tho* hid from us he may be!
When mortals meet, sprits hold
Communion, in the silent air;
And trust, and doubt, and love, and hate
Invariably are awakened there!
Oh let them freely love that can ;
Our mortal loves will soon be o’er;
We cannot know what earthly bliss
Survives npon a heavenly shore;
Full many a fragile, tender joy,
Was made for this poor world alone;
And wheather found, or failed of, here,
In after-life will ne’er be known!
SI VUi'ckh) Citeranj iilmellatumts Journal, for the Ijomc Circle.
Cl Capital Slutcl).
Winning a Widow —with a
“Spring Hat.”
After riding twenty miles I reached
-Donaldsonville, La., just at dark. The
Natchez packet sometimes arrived at
about 10 o’clock at night, and as I was
bound up the Mississippi, and did not
want to miss her, determined to wait in
tho wharf office. Shortened the time
by paying a few visits (o a coffee-house
and billiard room in the town. During
one of these noticed the arrival of a
parly of French creoles, who talked
and swore over a dozen “ mallard ducks”
loud enough to have made you believe
they’d been on the war-trail after Catu
anehes, and brought in as many scalps.
At last walked over to the wharf-office,
settled down and found comfort in a
cigar, and as much of a newspaper as
the rather misty light of a hull-eyed
lantern would give mo. The fire in the
stove roared bravely and sent out plen
ty of warmth. 1 had dropped the pa
per anti only hold on to the cigar, when
I suddenly woke up on hearing the door
open and a couple of men enter. They
found chairs, and drawing up to the stove
continued a conversation evidently just
commenced as tliev entered.
“And so Butter is going to be mar
ried 1"
“ Wal he is! and a good match he’s
made of it. 1 tell you what she’s a roar
er. If he don’t have to put a kicking
breech on her afore lie’s married a week,
yon inny call me a fool. She’s got eyes
like a panther ; an’ if ho only lets her
get the hit atween her teeth—just for
oni e—ishe’lk carry him further nor lie
want’s to go.”
“ What makes him want to marry her
then ?”
“ Niggers, mules and as neat a planta
tion as llinr is on the Bayou. Two linn
died and fifty hogsheads of clean sugar
last crop, an’ if they’d only cut the cane
airlier fifty more atop of it. She had a
new steam ingine put up last season, and
tho' that cussed bagasse burner's rousing
humbug, yet I reckon it’s all paid for;
an’ all Buffer’s got to do, is step in, bang
up bis hat, aid set right down to live
like a fighting cock.”
M Why didn’t you go in there ? The
last time I came down the liver I heard
you were bucking up to the v Mow ?”
“ Wal now, Jim, to he honest, I did
think afore that Buffer stepped in, that
I just had it all my own way, and that
I was goin’to get her—sure! As these
here French say, I. made, eyes at her—
savage! But, somehow or ’nother, she
always went dead agin old Massissip.—
A man from our State had no kind of a
show, and though I put the ’tentions to
her like an uncle, it didn’t seem to be
any use of tryin. ’Bout one time she
did kind o’ lean my way. You see mire
’bout the end of grinding season Old
Farabole giv’ a dance down in his sugar
house, and ’vited me and the widder,
and a raft more ; an’ down we went, and
the widder kind a felt her oats, and we
reeled it off in the airly part of the
evening fit to kill; but by’m by that
Buffer he came on an’ just knocked me
cold!
“Ye see he’d been down to the city
(New Orleans,) and only ’rived on the
Bayou that night an’ bearin’ that that
was goin’s on down to Old Farabole’s
sugar-house, down he cum. Wal, sir, he
was dressed to death in the handsomest
kind of store-clothes, an’ the women
war right up on eud soon as he came in.
“ I see the widder a fixin’ her panther
eyes on him, and I jest Baid to myself;
‘Dick Tare-out, you raout as well
clear; that’ere Buffer’s too much for you
in the close line !’ I felt it at oncet.—
Wal, sir, in about a minnit up comes
Buffer, smiled at the widder in a fash
iuatin’ manner, an’ insists on dancit.’
with her. Sezshe:‘Yes! Mister Buf
fer, it will ’ford me the greatest pleasure!
Greatest pleasure 1 wal, the way he
squeezed her when they danced, I rath
er think it did. I kept an eye on Buffer.
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 1856
Now, you see, he’d been stayin’ at the
Saint Charleses, an’ puttin’ it through
like forty, an’ he larntall the last agonies
in the way of booin’ and scrapin’, an’
savin lee!le nothin’s; and, sir, carried
his hat round in his hand all over the
sugar-house, down among tho bilers,
and up round back of the ingine, wliar
theliker was—every wliar ho toted that
ar’ hat.
"Now tho widder didn'tjist ezactlv
know what to make of it, coz it was a
new wrinkle—so twieet she said to him
he’d better let Big Jake, one of the
house niggers, hold it for him; but
’twant no use. he held oa to’t tight
as a wrench : at last, jest as they war
in t(ie middle of a dance, sez Buffer,
with seeh a smile, sez he: ‘Mrs. Noir
youx, for yure sake I’ll do most entn
thing!’ An’ he actilly held that are
hat in one hand, an’ hit it a lick with
t’other, and fetched top and rim right
into a pancake—knocked it right down
fla*.
"I tell you wot, when tho widder see
him do that, she was just ready to drnp —
she was so overcome with his intentions.
Sactyfixing a bran new hat, and all to
gratify her little whim ! I see at once
how he was goin’ it, an’ I determined,
sir, to head him off. So I stepped up
round back of tho ingine, wliar the liker
war, an’ 1 took a most rousin’ big horn
of old Farabole’s rum, and huntin’round
found my lmt. It was a right new one,
none of your Kosshoot or wool hats,
but a rog’lar beaver stiff as a stove pipe,
and shone like a pair of new blacked
boots; so I lays hold of that tiro hat,
ail’ goes round back of tho ingine an’
takes another swingin’ lag pull at the
rum an’ then I felt jist ready for action.
The dance was through, and cheers was
scarce, the women were all seated on a
f. w seats in front of the bilers, an’ Bus
fer was a pullin’ on the soft things, an’
the widder was lookin’ tickled to pieces,
when I made my appearance on the
stage !”
“I works up to’rds tho widder, and
when I’d got atween her and Buffer, sez
I, a low me the pleasure of your hand
for the next set,!”
j "Oh,” sezslie, with a leotle sigh, “ 1
am so come over that I hardly feel abul
! to dance agin !”
“ ‘ Now, sez I to myself, 1 old feller,
: spread yourself or die !’ and I jest swings
i my hat round forward, and jest as I said
—‘ You had better say “Yes!” you’ll
get over it a dancin’,’ I held that ar’ hat
in one hand (jest as Buffer did his,) and
with t’other hand 1 druv the crown down
with sech another lick, that the lining
jumped right through, and bust the
e n 1 right out.
“ ‘ Raaly,’ said she, ‘ you skeered me !’
an’ I think I mout have done it. Thar
was my hat > all knocked into infernal
pieces no bigger than bits, the rim all
bangin’loose, the sides smashed in, the
lining running out, anti tho top off.—
‘ Bout that time I turned my eye, and
that- stood Buffer a boldin’ his hat—jest
as good as new, and all in shape sir, I
looked at it twieet—no mistake, it was
whole.
“ Sez he, ‘ You ought t’ get a Spring
Hat—a Shappoh Mechanic, its the
French call ’em. I’ve one here ! An’
then he ups and shows the whole insides
of it,at’ the hull lot of women looked
at him like if he’d had a stove-pipe
chock full of diamonds ; the widder spe
cially patternized ‘him, tuck him under
her wing, an’giv’me the cold shoulder
—straight. Butter’s got her. I’m tired
of La Fooshe, an’ am goin’ back to the
hills, wliar ar’ no more widders that fel
lers can cotton down to with Spring
Hats."
■■■ ••• ■
Anew stove has been invented for
the comfort of travellers. It is put un
der the feet, and a mustard plaster upon
the head, which draws the heat through
the whole system.
Grief is bad for digestion. Lose a
pocket book containing two fifties and a
ten, and you will not care for food for
the next three days.
A Word to Girls.
“Jane, I most wish one of our girls
was a boy !”
“ Why, Mr. Clark, what a singular
man you are—as much as you think of
the girls!”
“ Well, the fact is just this,” resumed
the worthy husband of tho lady, “I
must sot out these trees, and I want
someone to steady them for me, else
they wont bo set straight. Now if
Minny was only a boy, she’d do it com
plete !”
“ Come, Minny,” said the kind father,
as he put his head through the open
window, “ Come now ’twont make your
fingers ache half as much as ’twill to
drum everlastingly on that piano, if it
docs tan them. Come, now, shame tho
rest of the girls, and don’t make me stop
tho team in tho midst of the furrow.—
I shall have to, if you dou’t; come, for
if I call Bill, why Dennis must stop:
he can’t plough alone.”
Minny whirls half round on her mu
sic stool and looks inquiringly—
“ Would you, mother?” is the lan
guage of her pleasant eyes.
“ Well, now, Mr. Clark,” says Mrs.
C., “if you and I a’nt so rich as some,
[ don’t see as it is any reason why our
girls shouldn’t be brought up ladies ; if
they aren’t, it shall not be my fault—
I’m willing to work my fingers’ ends off
to give them an education—it’s about
all wo can give them. I will work out
doors if any of us must, though I don’t
really think it is a woman’s place.”
“ Why, I can’t help thinking strange
that you should think of such a thing.”
Supposo Minny’s music teacher, or
anybody else that we care for, were to
come and see her helping you out of
doors—why I never should get over it.’
! * Well, then, I’ll stop the team.”
“ That’s right., now,” replied Mrs. C.,
“and why can’t Dennis help trie trans
plant these rose bushes, while Bill is
helping you V
“Do just as you like ; for my part I
think it about as genteel to set out a
little plum tree its arose bush; any
w-iy thorns aren’t so prickly on ’em.”—
So while Mr. C. and Bill proceeded to
arrange the plum trees, and Mrs. C. and
Dennis follow suit, we will sit in the par
lor with the girls, Minny and Louise.
Look at this piece of embroidery—
isn’t it delicate ! isn’t it magnificent!
look iit the stitches! Don’t think of
Hood’s “ Song of a Shirt,” but think of
somebody’s “ Song of a Fire-screen,”
yet unsung. Stitch, stitch, stitch ; days,
weeks—early and late, till eyes ache
and fingers stiffen.
“ Well now, love, I should really like
to help father do that.”
“So should I; but then, as mother
says, I shouldn’t just like to have any.
body that we care for see me.”
“As to that, every body knows how
hard mother works, and I do sometimes
think ’tis too bad. Nobody thinks any
the less of Lucy Hayden for doing ail
sorts of work. Some ono said that the
other day when Professor G. called to
hear her jilay, she was out in tho yard
spading; she has a spade of her own;
and that she never thought of making
an apology, but walked into the house,
after placing her spade in the tool-house
mid played until the Professor was actu
ally delighted with her music.”
“Yes, I know it all,” says Louise;
“she can do any kind of kitchen work
as well as she can play. But now I’ll
tell you how’tis, Minny, rich folks enn
do any thing of that kind, and it will
pass muster, you know, mother says so;
but ’twould not do for us. Why, Hay
den could buy and sell father forty times
over. I know mother works very hard,
and sometimes I am ashamed when I
am asked, “if mother does such and
such things, Sr if we do them.”
“ Well, now, Minny, I toll you just
what I think, anybody can do house
work, that has half common sense, and
get along complete, and no credit to
them, either; but it is not every one
that cau embroider like that,” (holding
up the fire-screen,) “ paint on glass, or
make wax flowers,” (pointing at a stand
in tho corner of the room,) “besides it’s
disagreeable, house-work is to me; it’s
too short a step from tho sublime to the
ridiculous for me to take ; so let us quit
the subject and take a walk, for I feel
the need of exercise.”
So, render, we will tako our leave.
This is no fancy sketch, but actual
truth, and it is to be regretted that the
observation of not a few in our country
towns will attest to its truth
If wo admit, as our observation will
compel us to, that this untrue view of
life is taken too often by mothers, as well
as daughters, then wo must own that
such wrong views are at variance with
our true relations, and are sure to end in
disappointment and unhappiness. If
there is beauty in fitness, then there is
nothing beautiful in a mother’s allowing
herself to be overworked, or overburden
ed with care, while her grown-up daugh
ters are, as is too often the case, overbur
dened with mere superficial accomplish
ments, to the neglect of much that is
really of solid worth.
Out of-door employment, by this we
mean actual labor of some sort, if we
are to ciedit the testimony of our best
physicians, will act as a powerful pre
ventive of that extreme delicacy and in
validism to which our young ladies are
fast becoming victims. 'Where is the
sensible person who would think a whit
the less of a young lady for assisting
her mother in the kitchen, or her father
in the garden or the orchard?
Girls, we love music, but to our car
there is no music in the long drawn
sigh of a kind but overindulgent moth
er, worn down with sorrow and years of
fretting care.
Girls, we love painting, but wo must
look sometime longer, in this light,in that
shade, before we see touches of beauty,
or exquisite loveliness, in a picture of
what we fear some of you will be—shift
less wives
On Fretting.
“ Fret not. thyself,” says the Psalmist.
Mankind have a proneness to fret them
selves. Their business does not‘prosper
according to their expectations; compe
tition is sharp; those in whom they
confided prove treacherous ; malice and
envy hurl their envenomed shafts; do
mestic affairs go contrary wise; the
wicked seem to prosper, while the right
eous are abased. In every lot there is
ample material lomakeagood of, which
may pierce and rankle in our souls, if
we are only so disposed.
Fretting is of the nature of certain
diseases, assuming various types. Dis
ease is sometimes acute—coming on
suddenly in the inidst of health, aud
with but little premonition, raging vie
lently through the system, causing fever
and racking pains; soon reaching its
crisis, and rapidly running its course,
either to kill or to bo cured. So with
fretting. At times it overtakes the con
stitutionally and habitually patient and
gentle. Strong provocation assails them
unawares, throws them off their guard,
upsets their equanimity, and causes an
overflow of spleen that they did not
know was in them to that degree.—
Even the gentle may thus have occasion
for taking hoed to the injunction, “Fret
not.”
Diseases, however, often assume the
chronic type, becoming erabeded in the
system, deranging its organs, interfering
with the performance of tho natural and
healthful functions, and lingering year
after year, like a vampire, to extract the
vital juioes. In like manner fretting bo
comes chronic. Peevishness, irritability,
censoriousness, complaining, indulged in,
assume ahabit; gaining thereby strength
and power, until the prevailing temper
is fretfulness. It argues a sadly disease
ed condition of the soul, when this dis
temper becomes one of its fixtures. To
such an one everything goes wrong.—
The whole mechanism of society is
thrown out of gear; instead of moving
smoothly, as when lubricated by the oil
of kindness and oharity, its cogs clash,
and its pivots all grate harshly.
Learn to Cook Well.
The health of the family depends
upon it. We know there are those who
associate luxury, effeminacy, and all the
dependent ills, with every attempt of
the kind recommended. But we do
not believe that health is promoted by
eating raw carrots or doughy bread—or,
that to secure long life, it is necessary
to turn cannibal.
Now is it necessary, in order to slum
shun the errors of which wo speak, to
run into the opposite extreme. Good
cookery does not consist in producing
the highest seasoned d : shes, nor such ns
to foster a morbid appetite: but in pre
paring every dish well, however simple
or common it may be. There are, f r
instance, families who never eat any
good bread from one century to another,
and have no idea in what it consists.
Nor are meats cooked any belter in
their precinct. Those little, simple, and
healthy delicacies, which the good
house-keeper knows intuitively how to
produce, are never seen hero. Even a
dish of potatoes cannot get themselves
well boiled. These things ought not to
be, nor is there any need of their ex
istence, if the wife has any just notion
of her obligations to herself and those
about her.
The science of bread making, of meat
broiling, stewing, roasting, or boiling of
vegetable cooking, and of preparing the
multifarious small dishes of all sorts,
which go to make pleasant the table, and
all about her, are hers to understand and
practice.
There is a good deal of common sense
in the above article, and we rejoice that
such a largo majority of our most intel
ligent and refined ladies understand the
art of cooking well. To do this, is not
necessary to boa domestic drudge,
with no time to devote to intellectual
improvement; hut simple, well cooked!
dishes which require hut little time in
preparation, a neatly spread table with |
an intelligent woman to provide, is more
inviting, even to the epicure, than the
most elaborate entertainment where the
lady who presides is nothing but a cook
objections is often make by those of the
opposite sex, who are averse to the moral
elevation of women, that an intellectual
women is unfitted for tho duties of
domestic life ; but a verj few men of
intelligence are among such objectors, it
is not at all necessary tobringany proofs
to the contrary.
We would only hint to young ladies
who may not be particularly in love
with the kitchen, that no lady is fitted
for the duties of life, unless she is panic*
ularly acquainted with the entiro modus
operandi of house-keeping. Those who
have acquainted false notions of gentdi
ty, those whose minds never rose above
the frivolties of fashionable life, are those
who are poor house keepers and bad
cooks, while the intelligent who can
trace the relations of cause ami effect
who understand woman’s duties and
responsibilities, will never consider tiie
trifles which make up the stun of every
day happiness as beneath the notice of
her cultivated powers. A truly intel
ligent and well educated woman must
necessaiily be a good cook aud a good
housekeeper.
“I think,” said Mrs. Partington, get
ting up from the hr« akfast table, “ I
will take a tower, ergo upon a d’tscui
sion. The hill says, if I collect rightly,
that the party is to go to a verv plural
spot, and to mistake of a cold collection.
I hope it won’t he so 1, cold as ours for tho
poor, last Sunday; why there warn’t
efficient to buy a feet of wood for a res
titute widder.” And the old lady put
on her calash.
A Western publisher lately gave no
tice that ho intends to spend fifty dollars
for the purpose of getting up a “new
head ” for his paper. The next day.
one of his subscriber dropped him Un
following note : “ Don’t do it. Better
keep the money and buy anew bead
for the editor."
NUMBER 32
The Anvil and the Bellows.—A.
blacksmith who fancied himself sick,
would often tease a neighboring physi
cian to give him relief. The physician
knew that he was perfectly well; but
being unwilling to oifund him, told him
he must be careful of his diet and not
eat anything heavy or windy. The
blacksmith went off satisfied; but on
revolving in his own mind what kind
of food was heavy or windy, returned
lo the doctor, who having lost temper
with his patient, said,
“ Don’t you know what things are
heavy and windy ?”
“No,"said the blacksmith.
“ Why, then I’ll tell you,” said the
doctor, “ your anvil is heavy, and your,
le’lows are windy; don’t eat either of
these, and you will do well.”
Gunpowder is comparatively a mod
ern invention, or discovery, it is diffi
cult to say which, for its origin is lost,
and pit is not known whether it waa
an accidental discovery or whether it was
the result of deliberate seeking. It is
' said to have been known to Roger Ba-
I con in the latter part of the 13th ceu-.
| tury. It was used in the discharge of
cannon in the 14th century. Some
suppose that it was known to the Chinese
long before its introduction into Europe.
The Chine’, ere a queer people to go
to market. A gentleman at Canton
writes that a neighbor of his had just
laid in his winter’s provisions—a hind
quarter of a horse and two barrels of
bull dogs.”
An elderly gentleman, travelling in a
stage coach, was amused by a constant
lire of words kept up between two ladies
One of them at last kindly inquired if
their conversation did not make his
bead ache, to which ho replied, “ No,
ma’am, I have been married twenty
eight years.”
Marriage resembles a pair of chears,
says Sidney Smith, so joined that they
can not be separated, often moving in
opposite directions, yet always punishing
anv one who comes between them.
A Missonri editor announces that the
publication of his paper will be suspend*
ed for six weeks, in order that be may
visit St. Louis with a load of bear-skins,
hoop-poles, shingles, oak-bark and pick
led cat fish, which he had taken for sub
scription.
The latest Irish bull we read of is the
case of an Irish gentleman who, in order
to raise the wind whereby to relieve him
self from jieeuniary embarrassment, got
his life insured for a large amount and
then drowned himself!
In Paiis, apothecaries are obliged to
put up all poisons in red paper, while
white labels must be used for medicines
intended for internal application.
“Salary” comes from solarium, an al
lowance of salt money, or salt, among
the Romans, wherewith to savor their
food. So when we say a man does not
earn his salary, it is equivalent to saying
he does not “earn his salt.”
There is nothing on earth so beautiful
as the household on which Christian
love forever smiles, and where religion
walks, a counsellor for its twin stars
are centered in the, soul. No storms
can make it tremble, for it has a
he ivenly support and a heavenly an
chor. The home circle surrounded
by such influence, lias an ante-post of
the joys of a heavenly home.
A clergyman was once asked wheth
er the members of a church, of which
lie had the care, were united. He re
plied that they were perfectly united
—“ frozen together.”
Dcnup on Debt. —“ It must be con
fessed that my creditors are singularly
unfortunate. They invariably apply
the day after I have spent all roy mon
ey. I always say to them :—‘Now this
is very provoking. W by didn’t you
couie yesterday, and I could have paid
you in full!’ But no, they never will.
They ree.ii to take a perverse pleasure hi
arriving always too late. Its roy belief,
they do it on purpose -