Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME X.
Original Potto).
Written for the Visitor.
AlfD THOU ART GONE.
To ****».
And thou «rt gone, dearest and best,
And left me to my wild unrest—
Left me, beloved one, all alone,
To “ mourn the hopes" I made my own.
j bade thee leave, but did not know
My soul would prove deserter too;
’Till soon, with bitterness o’erfraught,
startled heart the truth was taught;
And then—oh! then, too late I learnt,
I loved the best what most I spurned.
Oh! rash, rash lips, and unkind heart,
That could to thee such words impart:
Could tell thee it would have thee go!
When all the while it loved thee so —
Could give thy breast one woe or pain,
Where, soothed to rest, “ my head had lain;**
Listening with sweet delight to hear
The throbbings of thy heart so dear;
But now that heart is far away—
The heart that taught me how to pray;
And now alone, on the dark green sod,
In my restless grief I’ll seek my God!
And oh! in his mercy, I’m sure he’ll see
The truth of my soul, in its prayers for thee.
Shaxa.
Augusta, Go.,
Written for the Visitor.
MEMORIES.
I must not say I love thee yet,
For what can words like these avail?
I dare not say I’ll kneel again,
For pride and manhood check the tale.
Yet wildly o’er my wayward soul,
Rush feelings which I cannot stay;
And all the sternness of control
Is swept from my weak heart aw^y.
Oh 1 memory of the maddening Past!
Oh! mournful fate, that still must be;
All—all alike are vain—the last
Is still to love! —to worth ip thee!
Schwa rzcn.sk i.
Augusta, Ga.
O Lovers, when Rare Lips say No.
BY T. B. ALDRICH.
I wooed her in the linden’s shade,
And Bess was shy and half afraid;
And when I asked—What? Lovers know!
Her heart said yes, her lips said no.
O Lovers, when rare lips sap No,
Let not pour hope grow lets, grow less ;
Lor oft 'tis so that simply No
Is meant for Yes, is meant for Yes/
I told her all the world was Love’*,
; Her bosom fluttered like white doves 1—
| Hut still she listened till, ah Bess!
[ Her heart, her soul, her lips said yes)
1 O Lovers, when rare lips say No ,
Let not your hope grow less, grow Use /
For oft His simply so that No
Is meant for Yes, is meant for Yes I
[Home Journal.
NEIGHBOR NELLY.
I’m in love with Neighbor Nelly,
Though I know she’s only ten,
While I am eight-aud-forty,
And the married-cst of men.
I’ve three daughters, all with beaux;
I’ve a son with noble whiskers,
r Who at me turns up his nose.
Though & Squaretoes and a Buffer,
Yet I’ve sunshine in my heart,
Still, I’m fond of cakes and marbles—
. Can appreciate a tart.
I can love my neighbor Nelly
Just as though I were a boy,
And could hand her plums and spplet
| From my depths of corduroy.
I Bhe is tall, and growing taller;
4 She is vigorous of limb;
| ( Vou should see her play a cricket
With her little brother Jim!)
k She has eyes as blue as damsons;
She has pounds of abum curls;
§ She regrets the game of leap-frog
I Is prohibited to girls.
I adore my neighbor Nelly;
I invite her in to tea,
And I let her nurse the baby,
Her delightful ways to see.
Such a darling bud of woman!
Yet, remote from any teens —
I have learnt from Neighbor Nelly
What the girls’ doll-instinct means.
0, to see her with the baby,
(He adores her more than I,)
How she choruses his crowing,
How she hushes every cry!
How she loves to pit bis dimples
With her light forefinger, deep;
How she boasts, as one in triumph.
When she’s got him off to sleep!
We must part, my Neighbor Nelly,
For the summers quickly flee,
And thy middle-aged admirer
Must too soon supplanted be.
Yet—as jealous as a mother,
A suspicious, canker’d churl —
I look vainly for the setting
to be worthy such a pearl.
SI Sonlljcnt lUrdilij Citawij nub lUiscfllanemis 3ounial, for tlje Ijome Circle.
Cljoict Sketches.
WHO’S TO BLAME?
One evening, the fastidious Harry
Wentworth, on coming home tired and
depressed, found his wife in the parlor,
dressed in a soiled morning gown, and
wearing a pair of slippers down at the
heel. To increase his vexation she was
sitting in an easy chair, with one leg
crossed over the other, reading a trashv
novel.
“ Why, Fanny I” he exclaimed in
amazement, for they had been married
only a few months, and hitherto he had
thought her the pink of neatness.
“ Well, what is it ?” she asked, look
ing up. Then noticing the direction of
his eyes, she assumed a more becoming
position. “You don’t like my dress
perhaps,” sfie continued : “ but really 1
was too tired to change it.”
“ What have you been doing all day ?”
said Harry.
“ Oh, reading this,” she replied : she
colored as she held up the book, and
added, “and then it has been so warm!”
Now her husband had been bard at
work all through the sultry summer day,
and bad, as was usual with him when
busy, dined at his office. Yet his attire
was neat, and even his hair newly brush
ed ; for he bad gone to his chamber to
do this before coming into the parlor.
It may be supposed, therefore, that he
was annoyed at the slovenliness of his
wife, the more so, as, on looking at the
novel, he found it quite a worthless af
fair. He said nothing, however, except,
“At least change your slippers, my
dear. You don’t know how I dislike to
see a lady slipshod.”
“Do you ! how odd 1” said his wife>
with a silly laugh, stooping to pull up
the heels of her shoes. “ There, that
will do, I think. I really can’t walk so
far as the chamber this warm evening.
I wish you would ring for lea, the bell
is just by you, as I want to finish this
chapter.”
Her husband sighed, but did as lie
was bid. The tea came up, and he took
his seat, bu».the chapter was not yet
concluded, and so he was compelled to
wait. When, at last, Mrs. Wentworth
came to the table the tea was cold.—
The meal, under these circumstances,
was a dull one, and the husbanj, after
tea was over, finding his wife absorbed
in her book, lay down on the sofa and
finally went to sleep.
Mrs. Wentworth had been the belle
of tbe town before her marriage. Her
sprightliness and beauty had been the
theme of constant admiration. But
these qualities would have failed in win
ning Harry Wentworth’s heart, if thev
had not been sustained by a most ex
quisite taste in dress. See Fanny when
you would, she was always carefully at
tired ; and as Harry Wentworth was
particularly fastidious on this point, he
thought himself the happiest of men
when Fanny, one bright summer even
ing, promised to be his.
But unfortunately the bride had no
real habits of neatness, but only a love
of admiration. It was vanity that had
induced her while single to be careful of
her dress ; but now that she was mar
ried she gradually gave way to her na
tural indolence. The first occasion on
which she did this to any glaring extent,
was the evening on which our story
opens ; but it was soon followed up by
other exhibitions of slovenliness.
“I do wish, Fanny, that you would
dress more neatly,” said Mr. Wentworth,
in a vexed voice, some months later still.
“ Night after night I come home and
find you in that atrocious wrapper.”
“ You used to think me pretty enough
in any dress,” retorted Mrs. Wentworth,
te3tily.
“ But I never saw you in one like
that before we were married,” replied
her husband.
“To be sure not,” said Mrs. Went
worth, and she laughed ironically. “ I
always dressed for the company then,
and I do so now.”
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1856.
\\ hat could Mr. Wentworth say ?
If his wife did not think it necessary to
be neat in his presence—did not con
sider him as worthy of pleasing as the
comparative strangers whom she called
companj—it was useless to argue with
her; so, after tea, the slipshod heels
still annoying him, with a perceptible
hole iu the stocking to increase that an
novance, he moodily took his hat and
left the house.
At first Mr. Wentworth walked up
and down the street, but at last, fatigued
with this, he stepped into a debating
room attached to a tavern. Here he
met several acquaintances, and gradual
ly falling into conversation, the evening
passed rapidly away.
When he went home Mrs. Wentworth,
looking very sleepy, and a little out of
humor, accosted him with—“ Where in
the world have you been ? I finished
my novel an hour ago, and have had
nobody to talk to ever since. lam
moped to death. There was a time,’’
she added, poutingly, “ when nothing in
the world could have induced you to
spend an evening away from me.”
Her husband was on the point of re
plying in a similar upbraiding style, but
lie recollected that he had expostulated
too often and too vainly, and so he said
nothing.
It was a week before Mr. Wentworth
spent another evening out. He tried
sincerely to slay at home ; but his annoy
ance at his wife’s slovenliness was too
great, and at last he left her again to
her novel and her slipshod shoes.
Mr. Wentworth has now become a
confirmed visitor of the debating-room,
the members of which are chiefly mar
ried men ; and if the full truth were
known, it would appear, we behevo, that
most ot them, if not all, have wives re
sembling Mrs. Wentworth. Sometimes
there is an undue quantity of brandy
and-water drunk at these meetings, so
that some members, and Mr. Went
worth among them, * * * caetera
desunt.
Woman and Marriage.
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.
I have speculated a great deal upon
matrimony. I have seen a young and
beaHtiful woman, the pride of gay circles,
married as the world says —well. Some
have moved into costly houses and their
friends have all come and looked at their
furniture and their splendid arrange
ments for happiness, and they have gone
away and committed them to their sun
ny hopes cheerfully and without fear.
It is natural to be sanguine for them ;
as the young sometimes are carried away
bv similar feelings. I love to get unob
served, into a corner, and watch the
bride in her white attire, and with her
smiling face and her soft eyes meeting
me iu their pride of life, weave a waking
dream of future happiness and persuade
myself that it will be true. I think how
they will sit upon the luxurious sofa as
the twilight falls, and build gay hopes
and murmur in low tones the now not
forbidden tenderness; and how thrilling
ly the allowed kiss and beautiful endear
ments of wedded life will make even
their parting joyous, and bow gladly
they come back from the crowded and
the empty mirth of tbe gay to each
others quiet company.
I picture to myself that young crea
ture who blushes even now at his hesita
ting caress, listening eagerly for his foot
gteps as the night steals on and wishing
that he would come, and when he enters
at last, and with an affection as undying
as his pulse, folds her to his bosom, I
can feel the tide that goes flowing through
the heart and gaze with him on the
graceful form as she moves about for the
kind offices of affection, soothing all his
unquiet cares, aid making him forget
even himself in her young and unshad
owed beauty.
I go forward for years and see her
luxuriant hair put soberly away from her
brow, and her girlish graces resigned in
to dignity, and loveliness chastened with
the gentle meekness of maternal affec-
tion. Her husband looks on lier with a
proud eye, and shows hei the same fer
vent love and delicate attentions, which
first won her; and her fair children are
grown about them, and they go on full
of honor and untroubled years, and are
remembered when they die.
-
A Young Man’s Character.
No young man who has a just sense
of his own value will sport with his own
character. A watchful regard to his
character in early youth with be of in
conceivable value to him in all tbe re
maining years of his life. When tempt,
ed to deviate from strict propriety of de
portmeut, ho should ask himself, “ Can
1 afford this! Can I endure hereafter
to look back on this ?”
It is of amazing worth to a young
man to have a pure miud; for this is
the foundation of a pure character.—
The mind, in order to bo kept pure,
must be employed in topics of thought
which are themselves lovely, chastened
and elevating. Thus the mind hath in
its own power the selection of its themes
of meditation. If youth only knew how
durable and how dismal is the injury
produced by the indulgence of degraded
thoughts—if they only realized how
frightful were the moral depravities
which a cherished habit of loose imag
ination produces on the soul, tliev would
shun them as the bite of a serpent-
The power of books to excite the imag
ination is a fearful element of moral
death when employed in the service of
vice.
The cultivation of an amiable, oleva
ted and glowing heart, alive to all the
beauties of nature and all the sublimities
of truth, invigorates the intellect, gives
to the will independence of baser pas
sions, am] to the affections that power
of adhesion to whatever is pure, and
good, and grand, which is adapted to
load out the whole nature of man into
those scones of action and impression
by which its energies may be most ap
propriately employed, and by which its
high destination may be most effectual
ly reached.
The opportunities of exciting these
faculties in benevolent and self-denving
efforts for the welfare of our fellow men,
are so many and great that it is really
worth while to live. The heart that is
truly, evangelically benevolent, may
luxuriate in an age like this. The prom
ises offered are inexpressibly rich, the
main tendencies of things so manifestly
in accordance with them, the extent of
moral influence is so great and the ef
fects of its employment so visible, that
whoever aspires after benevolent action
and reaches forth for things that remain
for us, to the true dignity of his nature
can find freo scope for his intellect and
all aspiring themes for the heart.
The Colporteur and Man with
a Jug.
About six years ago a colporteur of
the American Tract Society was travel
ling on horseback through one of tbe
most mountainous portions of Cherokee
Georgia, laden with books for distribu
tion and sale. When passing through
a narrow gorge between two hills, where
there was scarcely room for more than one
person to pass, he met a man with a jug.
The jug had no handle, but was held by
an old, greasy leather string, tied around
the neck The Colporteur accosted him
“ Good morning, sir, can I sell you a
book ?”
“ No, sir; I have no money,” was the
reply.
“ Where are you going, my friend,
with your jug?”
“ To the still-house, sir.”
“Suppose you take the money with
which you propose to buy the whisky,
and buy a good book, and go home with
out the whisky, and read the book, and
I promise it will be far better for you.”
“ But, sir, I have no money—l am to
get the whisky on credit.”
“ Well, my friend, I will make anoth
er proposition—l will buy your jug and
give you a book for it. You can then
go homo and read your book, and do
without the liquor. What do you say
to that ?”
The man with the jug hesitated awhile,
and then replied, “ I will let you have
the jug.”
The colporteur took the jug and gave
him a copy of the Temperance Manual,
and, hanging his new purchase on his
arm, journeyed on till night, when he
gave the jug to the lady of the house
at which he spent the night. He visit
ed several families before night, how
ever, carrying the jug, which was a great
matter of astonishment and wonder to
all who saw him, and the question was
frequently asked, “ What are you doing
with that jug?”
The colporteur heard nothing more
of the man from whom he bought the
jug until this year, during the sitting of
the Superior Court in the county of
C , six years having elapsed. Be
ing at Court, still engaged in colporteur
ing for th3 Tract Society, he was ac
costed by a gentleman with the enquiry:
“Do you remember trading for a jug,
several years ago, in the hills about
here ?”
“ I do sir,” replied the colporteur.
“ Yonder," said the gentleman, point
ing to a sober looking man, “is the
man from whom you bought it. lie
“ He was at the timo you met him a
drunkard—a pest to society. Now he
is a sober man, and has been ever since
the day you took the jug away from
him. He is now an orderly and consist
ent member of the church, and enjoys
religion. Ho is industrious and sup
ports his family well ; whereas, while ho
owned the jug, he did little else than
make his visits to the still-liousc, and fill
and empty his jug.”
The colporteur, feeling some interest,
inquired of the man how the change was
so suddenly wrought on him. “ Was
it the tract ?” “ No,” said he, “it was
your determination, and the interest you
seemed to manifest in my welfare; and
besides this, you took my jug, and that
set me thinking ; then I went home and
read the tract, and determined, by the
help of God, I would never drink anoth
er drop, and I have been enabled to
keep that promise.”
This is a plain, unvarished tale, and
shows how much may ho done by
strong persona! efforts. “ Cast thy
bread upon the waters, for thou sbalt
find it after many days.
Sleep.
Observation and scientific experiment
constantly confirm the fact that the
brain is nourished, repaired, during sleep.
If, then, we have not sleep enough, the
brain is not nourished, and like every
thing else, when deprived of sufficient
nourishment, withers and wastes away,
until the power of sleep is lost, and the
whole man dwindles to skin and bone,
or dies a maniac. The practical infer
ences which we wish to impress upon the
reader are two :1. By all means sleep
enough, give all who are under you sleep
enough, by requiring them to goto bed
at some regular hour, and to get up at
the moment of spontaneous waking in
the morning. Never waken up any one,
especially children, from a sound sleep
unless there is urgent necessity, it is cru
el to do so. To prove this we have
only to notice how fretful and unhappy
a child is when waked tip before the nap
is out. 2. If the brain is nourished
during sleep, it must have most vigor in
the morning; hence the morning is the
best time for study; for then the brain
has most strength, most activity, and
must work more clearly. It is ‘the mid
night lamp’ which floods the world with
sickly sentimentalities, with false morals,
with rickety theology, and with all those
harum scarum dreams of human eleva
tion which abnegate Bible teachings.
Prosperity is the only test that a vul
gar man can’t pass through. If a man
has anything mean in his disposition, a
little good luck is sure to bring it out.
£las\ )w of fjumor.
Lawyers Outwitted.
Not far from the city of Montgomery
in the State of Alabama, on one of the
stage-roads running from that city, lives
a jolly landlord 1 by the name of Ford.
In fair weather or foul, in hard times
or soft, Ford would have his joke. It
was a bitter, stormy night, or rather
morning, about two hours before day
break, ho was aroused from his slumbers
l>y loud shouting and knocks at his
door. lle turned out, but sorely against
his will, and demanded what was the
matter. It was as dark as tar, and as
he could see no one, he cried out —
“ Who arc you, there ?”
“ Burder and Yancy and Elmorei
from Montgomery,” was the answer, “on
our way to Tuscaloosa to attend court.
We are benighted, and want to stay all
night."
“Very sorry I can’t accomodate you
so far, gentlemen. Do anything to
oblige you, but that's impossible.''
The lawyers, for they were three of
the smartest lawyers in the State, and
all ready to dropdown with fatigue, held
a brief consultation, and then, as tbev
could do no better, and were too tired
to go another step, they asked—
“ Well can’t you stable our horses,
and give us chairs and a good fire till
morning ?”
“ Oh, ves, can do that, gentlemen.”
Our learned and legal friends were
soon drying their wet clothes by a bright
fire, as they composed themselves to
pass the few remaining hours in their
chairs, dozing and nodding, and now
and then swearing n word or two of im
patience as they waited till daylight did
appear.
The longest night has a morning, and
at last the sun came along, and then in
due time a good breakfast made its ap
pearance ; but to the surprise of the
lawyers, who thou, lit tho house was
crowded with guests, none but them
selves sat down to partake.
“ Why, Ford, I thought your house
was so full you couldn’t give us a bed
last night ?” said Burder.
“ I didn’t say so,” Ford replied.
“ You did’nt ? What in the name of
thunder, then, did you say ?”
“ You asked me to let you stay here
all night, and I said that would be im.
possible, for the night was nigh unto
two-thirds gone when you came. If
you only wauled beds, why on earth
did’nt you say so ?”
The lawyers had to give it up. Three
of them on one side, aud the landlord
alone had beat them all.
Ethan Allen.
A good story is told of that rare old
patriot, Col. Ethan Allen, whoso ser
vices in the “times that tried men’s souls”
were on!}- equalled by his daring asser
tions of the right of private opinion in
theological matters. A well known
divine, pastor of the village church, call
ed one evening on the Colonel, and
while enjoying his true New England
hospitality at the supper table, the con
versation turned upon church matters.
Quoth the minister, “ Colonel, how
does it happen that a man of your ex
tensive influence and information has
never seen it his duty to join our society.
You know we want laborers in the
vineyard—especially such laborers as
you are. Your example would tend
greatly to strengthen our bands and for
tify our hearts against tbe dire assaults
of the evil one.”
“ Well, brother,” replied Allen, “ I
have often thought as you do about the
business, and one day I had almost made
up tny miud to fall into the ranks, but
that night I had a dream which caused
me to give it up.”
“Ah !” exclaimed the minister,“ what
did you dream ?”
“ Well, I thought I was standing at
the entrance of Paradise, and saw a man
go up and knock.
‘ Who’s that ?’ asken a voice from
within.
NUMBER 39.
1 A friend wishing admittance,’ was
the reply.
The door was opened, and the keeper
stepped out. 1 Well, sir, to what denomi
nation did you belong down yonder ?’
‘ I atn tin Episcopalian,’ replied the
candidate for admission.
‘Go in, then, and take a seat near the
door, on the East side.’
Just then another stepped up ; he was
a Presbyterian, and the guardian directed
him to take a seat.
A large number were admitted, and
received directions where to seat them
selves. I then stepped up 1 tot he entrance.
‘Well sir, who are you?’ asked the
guardian.
‘ I am neither High Churchman, Pres
byterian, Lutheran, Calvinist, Catholic
or Jew ; but I am that old Ethan Allen
that you probably have heard of from
below.’
‘ What! the man that took Ticon
deroga ?”
‘ The same,’ I replied*
‘ All right, Ethan,’ said he, ‘just step
in and sit down wherever you please /”
Punches.
Punch says that the following should be
- to the questions usually asked of
the applicant for life insurance:
“ Did your great grandmother ever
complain of having been frightened to
death ?
“ Are you in the habit of reading Mr.
Allison’s histories, or the morning Ad
vertiser, or any other publications tend
ing to lengthen life ?
“ Is your wife a strong-minded wo
man !
“ Do you know any Americans, and
is there any chance of your getting into
political or other arguments with the
owner of a revolver ?
“ Are you a polite man, who does not
mind running out of a hot opera-house
to get up a carriage on a wet night ?
“ Did you every sit upon an Eliza
bethan drama of modern construction,
and how many years ago, and who at
tended you, medically, afterwards ?
“ Do you run after fancy preachers#
and do they make you cry ?
“ What was the general state of your
ancestors’ health, in the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries ?
“ Was any member of your family ever
swallowed trp by an earthquake ?
“ Do you always take care not to
tread on orange peel in the street ?
*’ Have you ever been afflicted with
Irishmen, or any other epidemic 3
“ Who cuts your hair?”
TWe Forget Me Not.—“ Grandmot
her,” said little Gretchen, “ why do you
call this beautiful flower, hiuo as the sky,
growing by this brook, Forget me not ?”
“My child, said, the grandmother,
“ I accompanied once your father, who
was going on a long journey, to this
brook. He told me when I saw this
little fl“wer, f most think of him ; and
so we have always called it the Forget
me not.”
Said happy little Gretchen, “I have
neither parents, nor sisters, nor friends,
from whom !am parted. Ido not know
whom I can think of when I see the For
get me not.”
“ I will tell you,” said her grandmother
“ someone of whom this flower may
remind you —Him who made it. Every
flower in the meadow says Remember
God ; every flower in the garden and the
field says to us of its Creator, Forged me
not.’
Queer, Questionable Queries. Is
“deatb’sdoor” opened with a skeleton key?
When a lawyer composes his mind
does he do it in 6-8 time ?
Would you say that a lady was
“ dressed loud,” who was covered all over
with bugles ?
Is there any truth in the report that
the Arabs who live in the desert have
sandy hair ? And is it also true that
those who live by the Red Sea have
carrots ?
In selling a New foundhind dog do you
know whether it is valued according to
what it will fetch, or what it will bring ?