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VOLUME X.
Select poetnj.
I HAVE NO FATHER/THERE.
I saw a wide and well-spread board;
And children young and fair
Came one by one—the eldest first,
And took their stations there.
All neatly clad and beautiful,
And with familiar tread;
They gathered round with joy to feast
On meats and snow-white bread.
Beside the board, the father sat,
A smile his features wore;
As on the little group he gazed,
And told their portions o’er.
A meager form arrayed in rags,
A near the threshold stood;
A half-starred child had wandered there
To beg a little food.
Said one, “ Why standest here, my dear?
See there’s a vacant scat,
Amid the children, and enough,
For them and thee to eat.”
“Alas forme!” the child replied,
In tones of deep despair,
“ No right have I amid yon group,
I have no father there.”
O hour of fate, when from the skies,
With notes of deepest dread,
The far-rcsounding trump of God
Shall summon forth the dead—
What countless hosts shall stand without
The heavenly threshold fair,
And gazing on the blest, exclaim
“ I have no father there !”
MAIDEN RESOLUTIONS.
Oh ! I’ll tell you of a fellow,
Os a fellow I have seen,
Who is neither white nor yellow,
But is altogether Green !
Then his name it isn’t charming,
For it’s only common “ Bill
And he wishes me to wed him,
But 1 hardly think I will!
He has told me of a cottage,
Os a cottage ’mong the trees,
And don’t you think the gawkey
Tumbled down upon his knees!
While the tears the creature wasted
Were enough to turn a mill;
And he begged me to accept him,
But I hardly think I will!
Oh, he whispered of devotion,
Os devotion pure and deep,
But it seemed so very silly
That I nearly fell asleep!
And he thinks it would be pleasant,
As we journey down the hill,
To go hand in hand together,
But I hardly think I will!
He was here last night to sec me,
And he made so long a stay
I began to think the
Never meant to go awav.
At first I learned to hate him,
And I know I hate him still;
Yet he urges me to have him,
But I hardly think I will!
I am sure I wouldn’t choose him,
But the very deuce is in it;
For he says if I refuse him,
That he could not live a minute;
And you know the blessed Bible
Plainly sys, we “ musn’t kill.”
So I’ve thought the matter over,
And I rather think I will!
BEAUTIFUL GATE OF SLEEP.
BY MISS KIMBALL.
The Beautiful Gate of Sleep is barred !
Oh Angel within!—
The panels of pearl with diamonds starred,
Give back no sound to my feeble knock;
I have no key that will turn the lock!
How long must I wait?
Oh evermore and forever more
Must I stand at the Beautiful Gatel
My garments are thin—my sandals worn !
Sweet Angel within !
How piercing the blast—how sharp the thorn!
The night is cheerless! the wind is wild!
My bruised heart sobs like a pitiful child!
How long must I wait?
Oh evermore and forevermore
Must I stand at the Beautiful Gate?
If I were a Queen I’d give my crown ;
Oh Angel within!—
Or famed, I would lay my laurels down;
Or rich, I’d yield thee my treasured gold,
For thy sweet shelter from rain and cold!
How long must I wait?
Oh eveimore and forevermore
Would I pass through the Beautiful Gate!
EPIGRAM.
From the dawn of creation the name of old Gain
Has been cursed as the author of skiying;
I!ut glory awaits in our age on the Kane
Who slays not, though famous for sleighing,
So fill up the cup to the Kane of the Pole,
Whose marvelous tale, though no fable,
Attests that for generous deeds of renown,
Our Kane in reality ’-a Able (Abel.)
Woman, spare that tea!
Touch not a single cup!
In youth it tempted thee,
But now, O give it up!
I know thy mother’s hand
First put it to thy lip;
But, woman, let it stand,
Unless it be catnip!
SI Stmtljfnt UUfltli) Cilcrart) antJ fttmcfllatutms Sauvnal, for tljc Ijome Circlt.
Gl Capital Slulcl),
POWER OF ARGUMENT,
OX A DUTCH BAKER.
BY HENRY P. LELAND.
Mr. Gay sat down to the breakfast
table with Mrs. Gay as vis a vis.
“ My. dear,” said Mr. Gay, with a
gentle smile, in a pleasant tone of voice,
1 how long since you became a honie
oepatbist ?”
“My dear,” answered Mrs. Gay, with
a duplicate smile, and an exquisite second
fiddle accompaniment of voice, “ I am
not a ho-nioe op-a-thist. What makes
you ask such an odd question ?”
“ The appearance of those diminutive
bread pills on that plate,” and Mr. Gay
indicated with a severe wink the plate
he alluded to.
Mrs. Gay was an artless woman ; that
is to say, she had art enough, she only
wanted a little less. “I do not see
I hem,’ she replied, looking over the
coffee urn. llereupou Mr. Gay trium
phantly raised the plate containing half
a-dozen baker’s rolls, exclaiming:
“ Now, my dear, look sharp ! They
are very small, hut you can see them if
you will only try.”
“Oh ! yes, dear. I see the rolls, hut
I thought you asked me to look at bread
pills.” Artless Mrs. Gay! f see the
germ of any amount of “spats” in this
“ artlessncss.”
“ When flour is only eight dollars a
barrel ”
“Seven dollars and seventy-five cents,
my dear,” interrupted Mrs. Gay.
“ llow do you make that out my
love ?’’
“Twenty-five cents for the empty
barrel—if the head is whole I”
“ 'Foil my honor, my dear, you are an
ornament to your sex ! Where did you
learn such domestic economy ? Here
we’ve been married nearly a year, and I
never suspected such a thing before.”
“ Necessity, dear Bill, and the high
price of llonilon lace and whalebone,
have taught me several severe lessons.”
11 Dear Bill/" —if she had only made
this last word in the plural number, and
not used a capital letter to commence
it with, she would have hit it exactly.
“ Well, to return to these rolls, you
must tell the waiter, to tell the cook, to
tell the baker's hoy to tell the baker>
that unless he increases his rolls, we
shall decrease cur roles as customers.”
“ I am afraid that pretty speech would
be lost on Mr. Stieffelblitz, hut I will see
that he is told to send larger loaves and
rolls.” And thus the subject was dis
missed for that day. The course of
breakfasts, like true love seldom runs
smooth, and it is not therefore astonishing
that a few days afterwards Mr. Gay,com
ing down to breakfast, again found small
rolls on the table.
“ More bread-pills my dear ! I tho’t
old Snigglefitz ”
“ Stieffelblitz, my love,” interrupted
Mrs. Gay, who knew “ Dutch” up to the
handle.
“Old Stingyfits, then, intended to
mend his ways, enlarge his rolls, recon
struct his twists, and all that and so on.”
“ Yes, my dear, I called in person at
the baker’s the other morning in the car
riage, after attending Mary Teafite’s
wedding reception ; had Mr. Stieffelblitz
come out to the carriage; it was quite an
undertaking for him, he weighs twice as
much as you do ”
“So he ought to, with flour at eight
dollars and he selling it at ”
“ —and when he came out, I spoke
to him in German •”
“We gaits, my sehoeny Dytcber I”
interrupted Mr. Gay, quizzically.
“I spoke to him gramatieally and
correctly, my dear; and the good fat
man was so delighted that he promised
we should have no further cause for com
plaint, and until this morning, you must
acknowledge there was an improvement
in the size of the rolls.”
“ Why, Kitty, my dear, you have cn
ergy —I like that I What a blessed man
I am! every day I find out some new
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1856.
and adorable quality in you. As I used
to say a year ago, when I was young
and wild and dissipated—you are a
brick 1 Pour me out another cup of cof
fee, ‘swy glass lager 1’ and I’ll give you a
kiss before I go down town. I’ll call
on Stealoffbits myself; it’s on my way,
and reason with him. Tell him the
papers are beginning to grumble ”
“ You can’t frighten him that way. He’s
used to it; it’s a habit of the papers to
have periodical spasms about small
loaves; nothing ever comes of it. You
say you are going to reason with him 1
Why, my dear, the few German words I
spoke to him the other day were better
reason with him than all the logic you
could find in Whately—that dry old
book we used to study at school.”
“ Excellent 1” said Mr. Gay, “ I too,
will go and talk German with him 1”
“ O Bill 1” and here Kitty gave herself
up to a long and hearty laugh. “You
an’t in earnest ?”
“ I’m going to talk Dutch with this
old Stiflashricks, sure as you’re horn!
I’m going to talk his rolls into twice,
yes, thrice their present size. You see
if I won’t 1”
“ How absurdly you talk, Bill 1 You
don’t know two dozen words of German.
llow can you expect to argue with that
amount of capital, as father used to say I’’
“ It isn’t the number of words you
use in argument, hut the powerful
reasons that win the victory. That same
Whately, that dry old book, would have
taught you that. Now, I distinctly as
sert that the power of argument I intend
using with old Squizzlewig, will blow
these rolls into rolls—twice as large as
they are now.”
“ I’ll bet you 1” said Kitty. Those
were her very words. Remember, read
er, that Mrs. Gay was only in her
twentieth year, had no family ; a very
lively, jolly, good-natured husband;
moreover, that this conversation ftas “at
home,” where young married people act
and talk as they please ! “ I’ll bet you
our trip to Saratoga you don’t 1 And if
you do, why we’ll go and spend the
summer with father, up in tlie country.”
“ Done,” said Mr. Gay I take that
bet ami hook it. And now, I’m off for
Sfizzlejig and large rolls, down town
and business. But I think I told you I
would give you something before 1 start
ed.” And suiting his conduct to his
speech (new reading!) Mr. Gay, ap
proaching Mrs. Gay, bestowed a smack
sounding like the warning crack of the
postilion’s whip, as he dashes into the
busy streets of a bustling town,
“ The idea of my arguing with a
Dutchman 1” thought Mr. Gay. “ Well,
if that is’nt excessively rich, I lose my
guess, that’s all. I might as well try to
put up a rail-fence by argument as move
that man by any reasoning I can make
use of ; but let’s see here we are. Nice
clean littlfe house; front-door open ; glass
window in the wall at the side of the
entry. Loaves and tallies in sight.
GERMAN STIEFFELBLITZ,
BAKER.
“That’s the sign. And there’s the
old Dutchman in person. How can he
ever get out of that house through any
common-sized door ? He’s a second
rate Daniel Lambert.” At this point ot i
Mr. Gay’s meditations, Herr Stiffelblitz’s
voice came rolling out of the window,
deep, full, sonorous, clear ; he was speak
ing to someone in the back part of the
house. “ What a voice fora fish-woman!
I think I hear him singing for her; ‘ Bass
01” After this, Mr. Gay entered the
baker’s shop.
“ Good morning, Mr. Stieffelblitz.—
You supply Mr. Gay’s family in Dash
street, with bread ”
“Ah 1 yaw, s’bly Mis’r Kay mit
brate.”
“ The rolls are very small.”
“ Och 1 nott so varree sclimol: te
vlotir pin varree ’igh.”
“ Yes, but it’s cheaper now, much
cheaper ; and I want you to make them
larger. My wife—Mrs. Gay ”
“ Herr Gott, ter Missus Kay pin your
wife 2 So! dote she is schr schoen,
varree fine letty. Ach Himmel, bote she
spakes ter charinan so ,
• •' .1' :i: i
his Black-1 Hitch.
I: nreiM !„• ni: act
Mr. f"i ;!,t
jcy an.| c’.-ii-ht extruded
peis and up to the crown of
He laughed all over, so heartily, so gen
erously, that two little chimney-sweepers
passing along the street—under charge
of a decayed ‘ cullud gemman,’ far gone
in green spectacles and a long wand with
a gold head, or at least a brass door-knob
highly polished—also caught the laugh,
and kept it up till out of sound, as well
as sight.
“Good!” added Mr. Gay, “ and now
that we are all Dutch together, I want
to tell you somethings,” (the idiom was
affecting him!) “Youmakothe rolls all so
good, one size quite large! Kreutz don
nerwetter! Then you put them in the
oven, good! Aber Hair Yasoos! the
draft is so strong that a great deal of
flour in them flies up chimney, and when
you take them out of the oven they are
so small!’’ pointing to several diminutive
rolls lying on the counter.
Herr Stieffelblitz appeared in a dark
brown study; lie carefully watched Mr.
Gay's face; lie could see no trace of
any joking there, only a steady, satisfac
tory, trusting belief in the theory ad
vanced.
“Ter Herr Kay is rite; der am too
crate traft to dem cbimmalees.”
“Now listen, Hair Stieffelblitz. I want
you to have a fine sieve put up so that
the Hour won’t go up chimney any more.
I want you to have your rolls just twice
as large as they are now, and if next
July when you send in your hill, you
really find you have not saved anything
by keeping the flour from being drawn
up ! why, add twenty-five per cent, to
the amount of my hill, and I will willing
ly pay it rather than see you suffer un
justly, by having people suppose the
flour did not go up chimney !”
The ITerr (maun !) Stieffelblitz here
saw the intense fun of the thing—at
least, a part of it; the rest lie studied out
in the course of a week, and an explosion
of laughter followed, threatening all the
panes of glass in the neighborhood. A
week after this, in one of the
papers, there was a shocking article on
a slight earthquake, felt in a certain
portion of the city. On tracing up this
rumor it was found to have come from
the neighbors of Mr. Stieffelblitz. For
the especial benefit of gentlemen having
accounts current with weather, shocks,
and so on, we must correct this rumor.
It was not an earthquake hut a Dutch
quake that took place. Ilerr Stieffel
hlitz, waking up at mid-night a week after
his interview with Mr. Gay, suddenly
saw the full force of this gentleman’s
argument, and bursting into a roar of
laughter,“shook the adjacent earth with
the intenseness of his mirth.”
In justice to somebody, let us conclude
by saying that the rolls were doubld ine
size after this talk, at least those that Mr.
Gay received, and no additioi al twenty
five per cent, was made in his July hill.
Mrs. Gay lost her bet, and has had the
greatest curiosity to this day to find out
“ how Bill, who only knows two dozen
words of German, could do so much
with them!” Mr. Gay has repeatedly
assured her that he found them “ amply
sufficient,” assisted as they were by a
powerful argument!”— Knickerbocker.
JFtT Girls beware of the man who
bows and smiles, and says so many soft
things to you : lie has no genuine love;
while he who loves you most sincerely,
struggles to hide the weakness of his
heart, and frequently appears decidedly
awkward.
SBT Speaking of family discipline
Old Roger remarked that Mr. Peppercase,
his neighbor, reminded him of a game of
hall; lie was eternally batting them, and
they were always bawling.
Ik Marvel and Old “Corinth.”
The ed'tor of the Knickerbocker at
following to Ik Marvel, and
worthy of him :
as we were walking
IllM* along, the music ot" tho choirs
churches came floating out
iis,and the times were
and strange but one. And that
Wse—it was not sung as we have heard
it, but it awakened a train of long buried
memories that rose up to us even as they
were before the cemetery of the soul had
a tomb in it.
“It was sweet old “ Corinth” they
were singing—strains we have seldom
heard since tho rose color was blanched ;
and we were in a moment back again to
the old village church, and it was a sun
ny afternoon and the yellow sunbeams
were streaming through tho west win
dows, and the silver hair of the old deacon
who sat in tho pulpit was turned to gold
in its light; and the minister who we
used to think could never die, so good
was lie, had concluded “ application and
exhortation,” and the village choir were
singing the last hymn and tho tune was
—Corinth.
“ It is years—we dare not think how
many—since then, and 1 the prayers of
David tho son of Jesse are ended,’ and
the choir are scattered and gone. The
gill with blue eyes that sang alto and
the gill with black eyes that sang air—
the eyes of the one were like clear June
heaven at night, and those of the other
like tho same heaven at noon. Thev
both became wives and mothers, and
they both died. Who shall say they
are not singing 1 Corinth’ still, where
Sabbaths never wane, and congregations
never break up ? There they sat, Sab
bath after Sabbath, by the square column
at the right of the ‘leader,’ and to our
young eyes, they were passing beautiful
and to our young ears the tones were
the very soul of music. That column
hears still their penciled names as they
wrote them in those days in life’s June,
183—, before dreams of change lmd over
come their spirits like a summer’s cloud.
“ Alas ! that with the old singers most
of the sweet old tunes have died upon
tho air; but theyjinger in memorv, and
they shall yet he sung again iu the sweet
re union of song that shall take place
by and by in a hall whoso columns are
beams of morning light, whose ceiling is
pure pearl, whose floors are all gold, and
where they never grow old. Then she
that sang alto and she that sang air will
be in their places once more.”
How Jim Wicker’s Head got
Bald.
Jim Wicker was a comical looking
fellow, with a very young face, hut by
reason of having no hair, he looked very
old from his eyebrows all the way round
to the hack of his neck. He was very
sensitive about the defect, and was some
what celebrated from the fight ho had
with a travelling agriculturalist, who,
upon being asked by Jim what would
cause the hair to grow on his shining
poll, was advised to cover the top of his
head with guano and plant it down in
crab grass. But Jim wouldn’t quarrel
with Ctipt. Wild, for that gentleman was
not only tho host of the Fairy Queen,
hut also had the key of all the “ refresh
ments” in his possession ; so without
hesitation lie enlightened his auditory
after this fashion :
“ You see the liar always did seem
rayther scarce ’bout my scalp, and I was
always rubbing on one thing and another
to fotch it out, for I was sartin the roots
wasn’t dead, though thar was little to be
seen above the ground. I’d heard of
bar’s grease, and bought a gallon in bot
tles, hut I believe it was nothing hut
hog’s lard and mutton tallow; so I tho’t
I would have the genuine article, and I
got old Dan to go out and kill something
for iny especial benefit. Dan told mo
that it was in tho Spring, and that the
bar was in had health and out of season ;
but I believe he was trying to quiz me,
and wouldn’t no for an ansivetj A
short hunt fotched a critter at bay, and
Dan, by a shot in the vitals, ‘saved the
varmint;’ but the bar was in bad con
dition, for he looked as seedy as an old
Canadat liistle, and he had hardly ilo
enough in him to keep his joints from
squeaking, but what he did have I got an
used, and strangers,” said Jim, looking
sorrowfully round on the company, “ in
two days what little hai r I had com
menced dropping off, and in a week I
was as bald as a gun barrel. Dan was
right; the varment was shedding him
self, and he had nothing in Itim hut hair
shedding ilo. The consequence is, I
can’t in the dark tell my head from a
dried gourd, if I depend on feeling.”
The Troublesome Neighbor.
A few years ago, a poor mechanic of a
very quarrelsome disposition settled nearn
Christian farmer, whose friends expressed
to him their sympathy in the annoyance
he was very likely to receive.
‘ Never mind,’ said the good man, ‘ I
never yet had a quarrel with a neighbor
and I am to old to begin now.’
Some six months passed, and then be
gan a series of petty anoyances, which
the farmer bore uncomplainingly ; hut
this only irritated his neighbor the more,
until meeting the farmer one day in the
height of passion, he poured upon him a
torrent of abuse and insult.
‘Friend,’said the farmer gently, ‘no
man under the influence of passion can
reason clearly ; come to me calmly, and
wo will discuss your grievances.’ The
angry man raised his clenched hand to
strike him, hut was restrained by some
unseen influence, and both went on their
About a week after, the mechanic was
passing the farmer's house with a load of
grain. It was at the foot of a hill, and
the load was heavy, he coaxed, threaten
ed, and beat his oxen, but all to no pur
pose. lie must leave his load or ask aid
of the man ho had injured. Presently
he saw the farmer unhitch his oxen from
a load of hay and came towards him.—
With kindly words the farmer proffered
his assistance, drew him to the summit,
and without waiting for thftnks, depar
ted as he came. Here was a simple act
hut mighty in its influence The me
chanic was humbled, acknowledged the
purity and power of that religion that
could ‘ bear and forbear,’ and has since
that time never willingly provoked his
friend.
Oldest Negro Yet.
We have at last got hold of a particu
larly old negro. There have been count
less cases of tolerably advanced blacks,
but the case below, which we copy from
an exchange, is said to be perfectly au
thentic, and finishes the last. She ought
to be shown around :
Some time ago I sent you an account
of an old negro man, who died in Charles
ton at the advanced age of 113 years.
Since then I have seen a statement of a
negro woman, who died in Fauquier
county, Va., aged 140. A friend, who
was formerly an officer in the United
States Army, relates that when hewassta.
tioned at Pas Christian, in Lcusiana.he was
in the habit, with his brother officers, of
visiting an aged negress who sold butter
milk. On one occasion the following
conversation took place:
“Old woman how old are you?"
“I dunno, Massa."
“ llow long have you lived about
here f" - .....
“0, long time, long time, massa.”—
She then went on to relate circumstan
ces in connection with the historv of the
country, which proved that she must
have arrived at an advanced age.
“ Well, can’t you refer to any circum
stance by which you may come at your
age ?”
“ We’ll, massa, Fse had nineteen chil
dren, and that gal, (pointing to an old
woman,) is the youngest, and I know
she’s ninety.”
The old woman was quite active when
our informant saw her last, and attended
to the sale of her buttermilk herself in
preference to calling upon her “gal,”
whom she represented to be “good
for nothing.”
NUMBER 47.
The Fraud upon the Railroad
du Nord.
Charpentier, the principal in this im
mense breach of trust, conducted the af
fair with a coolness, a method, a surety
of execution which denotes a great apti
tude for financial transactions. Ho is
but twentv-five years of age, and was a
man of high life—what we would call a
fast man. It is remarkable how this fact
could have escaped M. Rothschild’s atten
tion. On one occasion, in company with
one of the directors of I he company, Char
pentier let fall a hundred franc hill. His
companion made a motion to pick it up,
when Charpentier, with his fine patent
leathers, kicked it into the fire, with the
exclamation, “How ! mon cher, do you
stoop to pick up such rags as that ?” lie
had a residence in town, another in the
country <fco., and all withoutother osten
sible resource than his seven thousand
francs annual salary. His predecessor,
who enjoyed a salary of ten thousand
francs, having died, the administration of
the company said to themselves, “ Hero
is a chance to make three thousand
francs; let us make young Charpentier
cashier:” which was done.
Charpentier was about to marry a
young girl at Rouen, daughter of a mer
chant of that place. Two weeks ago ho
asked and obtained permission to go and
see his intended, to arrange preliminaries
“for the happiest day of his life,” <fce.,
and be departed.
B.it the father of Charpentier, an hon
est and assiduous ulerk in the banking
house of M. Ruth-child, received a letter
a few mornings afterward from the father
of the young lady in question, who was
growing tired of the delay, and demanded
that the delinquent should be “forwarded
by return of post.”
Whereupon M. Charpentier hastened
to the Northern railroad office to make
inquiries about bis lost son.
“ Your son,” they replied, “ has been at
Rouen more than forty-eight hours.”
“ No, he is not there.”
“ Yes.”
“ No.”
“ Let someone call Grele.” [Grele is
the assistant cashier.] He appears and
is interrogated—
“ Do you know where Charpentier is ?”
“At Ronen,” responded Monsieur
Grele, with the most honest air possible.
“They say that he lias not been seen
there.”
“Ah! that is even possible; he had
a desire to pass by Trouville. He is just
the kind of f;llow that would like to.
amuse himself two or three days on the
road.”
“ That's a pity,” replied one of the di
rectors, far from conceiving the least sus
picion : “ the direction has precisely need
of his presence for an urgent affair.with
the intention of giving him leave of ab
sence later on. Suppose you go after
him at Trouville.”
‘ Me, Monsieur! And my cash box?”
“No matter for that. To-morrow is
Sunday ; you have thirty-six before
you, which is more th*<« you need to find
yourself at yo'« post Monday morning.”
“ Biw ”
“ Come, my dear Grele, it is a service
the directors beg of you.”
“I will go, Monsieur, I will go. Will
you receive my cash-box before I start?”
“ Certainly.”
And the director called an employe,
whom he charged to accomplish that for
mality.
Grele opens his box, displays to the
dazzled eye of the deputy an array of
twelve hundred thousand francs in gold,
silver,and bills, hands over the keys, and
takes sudden leave for Calais, where his
friend and accomplice,Charpentier, awaits
him with the proceeds of the 5,748 shares
subtracted from the safes and sold under
the nose ot the employes whom the com
pany pay forty francs a day to watch
over its interests.
At Liverpool, where the two hastened,
a third accomplice had already secured
their passage on a steamer to New York,
and, in company with a trio of ladies, the
par y set sail for America.