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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
D. €r. COTTINCJ, Editor.
No. 47.—NEW SERIES.]
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I July 8,1841, 45
MISCELLANEOUS,
AN ESSAY ON MILK & PEACHES.
BY SIMON SQUID, Esq.
Turtle soup has had its votaries; the
roast beefofOldEngland has stimulated the
valor of her warriors, and has boon celebra
ted by her authors “ time, whereof the me
mory of man runneth not to the contrary.’ 1
Cooper has immortalized the delicacy of a
buffalo's hump; Shakspearc stole deer,
prompted by reminiscences of venison
steak ; Burns sung of u pudding ; Byron
of all sorts of good eating ; all poets in all
ages have hymned the praises of the pro
duct of the vine, some the fruits of the or
chard, some of the flocks and herds, some of
champaign and oysters, how could they
have forgotten thee, Milk and Peaches,
thou most delicious mixture of edibles and
potables, except that they have never known
thee ! And yet, if there is any thing which
would make an ancient desire those mod
ern times, it would be to live in them to
enjoy thee!
I envy not the man who could feast on
this delicious viand and not feel his benefi
cent feelings expanded by the operation.
The gentle acid of the fruit clears the rust
of this selfish world from the heart, and the
mild liquid assuages its pangs and softens
its texture. Envy, hatred and malice, are
banished ; a quiet joy, a gentle intoxica
tion, differing from that of wine, inasmuch
as it rejoices the heart, without muddling
the brain, takes the place of all ill feeling.
Were Ia legislator, l would offer premiums
for the encouragement of the consumption
of Milk and Peaches, fully peisuaded that
punitory laws would soon be of no use, so
rapid would be the spread of morality and
benevolence. 1 would promote the forma
tion of societies pledged to use it themselves
and encourage the use of it in others—
though I am not certain that it would not be
better to establish associations pledged to
tally to abstain from it—the world would
then learn to appreciate its value and the
consumption would increase, because men
are prone to lon for, and to place a higher
value upon that from which any attempt is
made to debar them. I suggest, therefore,
to the consideration of the sage reformers of
these latter days, by whom all amusement
is frowned upon, and in whose opinion all
pleasure is a sin, if it would not be praise
worthy to proscribe my favorite dish. Let
them consider, if, as they would have us be
lieve, every act is sinful in proportion to the
pleasure we derive from it, let them con
sider I say, how great must be the iniquity
of Milk and Peaches : Is it not almost un
pardonable ?
Immortal, have 1 often thought, should
have been the name of him who invented
this luscious compound, and often have I
imagined how unambitious must ho have
been, having neglected to claim the honor
of his noble discovery, and to give his name
to posterity to be blest by latest generations.
Many are the researches I have made, in
vain, with a view of discovering to whom
the honor was due, and to rescue his repu
tation, if possible, from the darkness of ob
livion. Could it be possible, I thought, that
men should suffer the name of so great a
benefactor of their race, to perish ; when
the names of conquerors, kings, and of di
vers others, remarkable for nothing but the
quantity of evil they have done, are pre
served and worshipped. The honor of the
invention of gunpowder, is disputed, and
divided among several, yet it is sufficient to
make the names of all of them immortal ;
the first planter of the vine was deified ;
the inventor of printing is toasted at every
fourth-of-July dinner—why should we re
member these and forget him who confer
ed upon men, the best blessing their palates
ever experienced ? Why claimed he not
his due honors ? It must have been, that
feeding on his own invention extinguished
the spark of ambition that, in general, glows
so fervidly in mortal bosoms, and that he
went down to the grave, contented to have
done a great good ; but careless of the emp
ty honor of a posthumous fame. My re
searches were fruitless ; tradition was si
lent ; history, that common liar and shame
less sychophant, was dumb ; I was in des
pair until accident put me in possession of
that which had been denied to my most dil
igent search—l discovered the origin of the
voluptuous viand and found, not much to
my surprise, that the honor of its invention
was due to rio mortal.
I have just returned from visiting an old
college friend, one of the best fellows in
existence, a deep scholar, yet one of fun's
most zealous devotees, the strictest student
of his class, and while the sun shone on the
earth only to be found immured in his
WASHINGTON, (WILKES C OUNTY, GA„) JULY 22, IS 11.
room, deep in the mysteries of mathematics
or the Hebrew verbs; but when night
came, the first in a frolic, the loudest in u
song, the keenest at a. joke, whose pranks
were winked at by the powers called (some
times very inaproppos,) the faculty, because
his fun had nothing illnatured or immoral
•in it, and whose pecadilloes went almost
unnoticed, because of the pride taken by the
aforesaid faculty, in his very superior scho
larship. He is now saddened down into a
Benedick, with three children, but has his
former tastes, is fond of old books, old wine
and old friends, and thinks an old joke not
much injured by repetition. In his house
during my stay, I made his library my
sanctum, where, surrounded by a goodly
number of old authors, I spent most of my
time, dipping into the worm-eaten folios
successively and extracting materials for
fresh thought from the writings of men w ho
wrote when the world was young in litera
ture, before its allotted stock of ideas was
frittered away and hackneyed, turned and
twisted, remodelled and compounded, until,
like champaign too long decanted, they be
come tasteless and spiritless. Among these
ancient works, I discovered an old Latin
author of the Augustan era, one who wast
ed life in writing massive folios for the good
of the world, whom, in return, the world
with its usual gratitude, made all haste to
consign to so deep an oblivion that his name
is now never heard or his works known c
ven among the learned. I doubt, therefore,
if the most erudite of my readers ever heard
of or read Caius Captiosus “ De rebusges
l/s in ccdo,” yet, it is a noble and most pon
derous folio, printed in that pursy-looking
old black letter most grateful to the eyes of
the book-worm and antiquarian.
Judge of my joy, gentle reader, when, as
I was one day diving into the contents of
this forgotten book, 1 happened on a solu
tion of the problem which had for years
puzzled me, and discovered the origin of
Milk and Peaches recorded by that venera
ble a.utbor. Why it. had so long remained
a mystery, became also evident to me.—
No one- had thought of looking for its solu
tion in tie da,- kness of far-off antiquity ; no
one had believed it to have been a dish
venerated by the ancients, or invented where
in truth it was. No one seemed to have
been struck with the fact, that, in modern
day's, no benefactor of the human race dies
without permitting men to know to
whom they owed their gratitude, and there
fore, that the inventor of this glorious food
ought to be sought among the heathenish,
unenlightened, but more modest ancients.
But I hasten to give the world the benefit
of my discovery in the form of a transla
tion ; not that Ido not suppose all my’ read
ers could easily understand the original,
hut the printers always tear the dead lan
guages into such tatters, that I think it
belter, on this occasion, to permit old Caius
to discourse in the vernacular. If any per
son has the Leipsiek edition of his book
printed in 1548, he will find the article,
“De Persico-malo lade,” on the 927th
page of the 14th volume. Here is a trans
lation made as literally as possible.
“ It was the supper hour in Olympus,
yet. the celestials supped not; they were
gathered together in the hall ( ccenaai/um ,)
to partake of that repast which neither mor
tals or immortals ever forget or negl et. —
But a gloom spread far and wide through
the celestial mansions, for the brow of Jove
was clouded and he reclined on his ada
mantine throne, and listlessly twirled a
thunder-bolt around his finger. Juno sat
by his side, looking very cross and shrew
ish, and only opened her mouth to accuse
her husband of easting shcep's-eyes at her
ancient rival, Ceres. Neptune, with vio
lent symptoms of hunger, was nibbling a
red herring he.had drawn from his pocket,
and Pluto sat smoking a long Indian pipe.
Apollo tried to tune his fiddle, hut extract
ing nothing from it but the most dolorous
and discordant sounds, threw it down in
sublime disgust upon the toes of Diana, who
was whittling ( resecans ,) an arrow, out of a
branch of myrtle. The Goddess of Beauty
lounged on her ivory couch, drowsily read
ing Ovid’s last poem, and pretending not to
observe Mars, who was making love to her
bv signs, not unnoticed by Vulcan. Mi
nerva, with slate and pencil in hand, was
doing a sum in the single rule of three, hut
cyphering as if her heart was not in her
work. All the little gods and godlings, as
in duty bound, looked like their superiors
downcast and sour, and every thing wore a
most unusual air of solemnity. Why was
Heaven so sad, why were the deities dis
mal ? The hour for the repast had elaps
ed, the golden tables were yet unspread,
the chrvstal howls were empty, the gods
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
had not had their supper !
Suddenly, a noise was heard at the por
tal ; the congregation started with attentive
ears (erectis aurihus.) as a herd of horses
in the plains of Thessaly start at the
sound of the war-trumpet. The silver
gates flew open, a beautiful youth sprang in
and stood before the throne of Jupiter. An
expression of disappointment came over the
countenances of the assembly, and Escula
pius was heard to growl “ Humph! only
Ganymede; no symptoms of supper yeti
“ Cup-bearer,” said Jove, addressing the
youth, “have you found tiiat rascal Bac
j elms,” (Jove, it appears, was not very
j choice in his epithets when he was hungry.)
| “ Thunderer,” answered the youth, “I
have searched heaven and earth, and he is
no where to be found, lie was lust seen ca
reering over the hills of Naxos with a troop
of drunken Satyrs in his train ; I followed,
hut. could not overtake him ; Mercury is
still in pursuit of him.
A frown, so deep ; that a shadow, like a
thunder-cloud on the sun in a summer’s
day, fell on the awed concourse ; came o
ver the brow of Jupiter.
“ Brother Pluto,” said he, “you will
take Bacchus into custody upon his return
and consign him to your deepest dungeon,
there to remain seven hundred years, in
close confinement. I'll teach the drunkard
to carry off the keys of the pantry (panari
urn) with him when he goes on his frolics !”
Pluto took his pipe from his mouth and
grinned a willing obedience.
“ Ceres,” continued the father of gods
and men, “ nectar and ambrosia will be
wanting at our feast to night, all locked up
in the pantry ; the doors of which are of ad
amant, too strong for Hercules himself to
break through. Bacchus (may t he fates
confound him,) has gone off and taken the
keys with him. VVe must draw on your
ample stores for our supper to-night. Shall
we rely on you in vain? Shall men say
that starvation has entered heaven ?
“ I cannot hope,” modestly answered tiie
goddess, “to he able to supply any ad, -
i quate substitute for the luscious ambrosia
and the rich old nectar, bottled by your fa
ther Saturn ; but what I can l will do;
from the fruits of the earth, which are mine,
I will choose the most delicate and prepare
them in a manner, which, 1 flatter myself,
will satisfy even divine palates.”
So saying, she retired to that part of hea
ven, which, in earthly habitations, is called
the kitchen, having first called Pomona,
the goddess of fruits, in consultation with
her.
Many and anxious were the looks direct
ed towards the door by which they wen 1
expected to return. The deities were
growing ravenous, and Jove’s visage wore
an expression as if he needed but slight ad
ditional inducement to cause him to make
a meal of one of his progeny as his own res
pectablc father was in the habit of doing.
But at length, they came ; Ceres, Pomona,
and the dancing Muses, a beauteous choir ;
each bearing an immense bowl filled with
an amber colored fluid, flaked with spots of
pink and white like mingled snow and roses
and each placed her burden on the goiu
on tables. The celestials crowded around
them as the honey-gathering bees in spring
collect around the flowering orange-tree.
To all the contents of the bow ls were a
mystery ; something until that time un
known in heaven.
“ What is it ?” asked Apollo, squinting
suspiciously at it through his eye-glass.
“ Don’t know, ’pon honor. Can’t say ;”
answered Mars, with military brevity.
“ It has a very queer appearance,*’ re
marked Venus, as she co*u‘ tishly cast a
sidelong glance into a bowl, c\ on as the far
fiying crow peeps into a hollow marrow
bone.
“ Whatever it is,” said Jupiter, “ we will
give it a trial, for we must eat this or bo
supperless.” So saying, he drew towards
himself the largest bowl, dipped into it a
•'olden spoon, and first holding the portion
he raised thereon to his god-like nose, (for
he was too great a personage to regard the
rules of etiquette,) shook his head as if his
olfactories conveyed to him no satisfactory
solution of the mystery.
“I say, Ceres,” he exclaimed, “this
smells well—what is it ? nothing noxious
or unhealthy I hope ?”
“ Will your majesty deign to taste it,”
answered the goddess, a little piqued at the
suspicion.
Jupiter did so. At the first mouthful all
appearance of doubt vanished from his
countenance, at the second his face glowed
with divine satisfaction, at the third, su
preme pleasure sparkled in his eyes, at the
fourth be seemed wrapt in elysium. and
j forgetful of all around, applied himself si
lently.und industriously to il£ task ofemp
! tying ilio bowl and storing away its con
! tents in their appropriate receptacle.
The other gods watched his proceedings
and one bv one followed his example, it
had a similar effect on all. The cloud of
anger passed from the b.ow of Juno ; Bluto
dropped his pipe suddenly and so careless
ly, that it burnt a hole in the drapery of
| the throne ; a slight appearance of regret
I yet lingered c:i N. .••• countenance,
Out it was only because been so im
■ prudent as to take oil’ ot lib. appe
ilie aforesaid
made his grizzled furiously, and
Venus dug into her dish with the most un
lady-like avidity. All was silent in Olym
pus, save the smacking of celestial lips and
tlio working of divine jaws.
In the midst of this absorbing scene,
which all were too much enraptured to no
tice any thing but the business before them,
the door again opened and in staggered an
effeminate youth, leaning on the arm of a
tall and slender person wearing winged
slippers and a jockey-cap also furnished
with wings. It was the truant Bacchus in
charge of Mercury. Their entrance was
unheard, and they stood for a moment gaz
ing in astonishment at the scene before
them, and then approached the table.
“ Mcrk, old follow,” said Bacchus,
“ what’s all this, eh ? do you know what
they are eating ?”
“ Faith, not 1,” answered Mercury, “ it's
not ambrosia, that’s certain, it must be
something better if there’s any significance
in tiie manner they are putting it away.”
“ 1 say, M; rk,” exclaimed Bacchus,
pointing to tiie King ofGods and Men,” just
look at father; did you ever see any thing
equal to Ihe way tiie old trout walks into
the victuals ! —Gad, I believe I'll try some
myself; liavn’t had any provender since
morning, when 1 breakfasted with Pan in
Phrygia on beefsteak and onions.”
Luckily so. Bacchus, .1 upi ter did not hear
this irreverent comment on himself, by his
•• I’m agreed,” said Mercury, “ here's a
platter, let us fall to.”
So said, so done ; they appropriated to
themselves a liberal share of the viand and
were soon as thoroughly fascinated as their
neighbors.
The pleasures of both gods and men
must have an end. After a long and dili
gent application, Jupiter began to play with
lii.s spoon, and to take in mouthfuls lie ra
I pidly, and at length, with a sigh of regret at
the necessity of ceasing,’leaned back on Ids
throne in a slate of delicious exhaustion.—
Tiie other divinities successively stopped
proceedings, some from satiety, some be
cause they had found the bottom of their
bowls. All continued silent as if they
wished not to break tiie charm which hud
so long and sweetly bound them. At length
the Thunderer spoke ; hut as if speech was
a labor, and his lungs had not their usual
free and ample space to work in.
“Ceres, we thank thee. Thy substitute
for ambrosia is far more delicious than am
brosia itself. We have lost nothing by the
absence of that truant Bacchus.”
| “ Here am l, father,” said the wine-god,
j from the bottom of the table, rising and wip
ing his mouth with his bandanna.
“ 1 see thou art,” said Jove, “ 1 have
borne with thy freaks too long; but this
last offence of thine, is unpardonable.—
Hear thy punishment, it is to be shut up in
the lowest pit of Acheron two hundred
years.” “Seven hundred, please your
majesty,” maliciously interposed Pluto.—
•• Humph,” grunted Bacchus discontented
ly. “ Sire,” said Ceres, approaching tiie
throne, “ thou hast bidden me to ask a boon
of thee, I ask the pardon of Bacchus, be
cause we are both fellow-laborers in the
same field. I give to men the means of
living he gives them, that which makes
life tolerable. Men would not value my
gifts so much, were his taken away.”
“ It is granted,” said Jove, “ on condi
tions: He shall descend to earth and teach
to mortals (being first taught by thee,) how
;to prepare the materials oV our delicious
j supper. Better than the juice of the grape
which too often maddens, more to be desir
ed than neotar, its taste lingers yet on my
palate, like the last of thy rays, Phoebus, on
the evening sky. Estopcrpct.ua, let MILK
and PEACHES be immortal ; let it be a
standing dish in heaven, and let men share
the good with us. Ganymude, bring me a
toothpick.”
So the fire-born Bacchus came to earth
and first taught men to mingle the snowy
Milk and the sunny Peach, with a due ad
dition of the saccharine ; and bis punish-
?!. .9. It AVI*I! L, Ur inter.
j incut was remitted, for tho heart of Jove
was softened by his supper, and his wrath
waxed cold.”
Such is the account- gentle reader, given
: by the venerable Captiosus of the origin of
; Milk and Peaches. Great joy was mine at
| having rescued it fiotn oblivion, at having
| solved the dark problem. Alter some time
| spent in consideration, 1 thought myself
j fully justified iu shouting with Archimedes,
” Eureka, ’ which 1 accordingly did, until
1 set my friends iioiu ihtg to harking, and
j all the chickens in the neighborhood to
j crowing. Was 1 wrong in thus glorifying
I myself? I emphatically ask every one
i who lias tasted Milk and Peaches, was 1
i wrong ? I think not.
! Keeping a Secret. —The following from
j “Lectures on the Sphere and duties of YVo
| men,” lately published in Baltimore, is ev
idently the production of one who, (we wish
not to perpetrate a libel on the sex) lias ob
viously been a close observer of the female
! character :
“ Some women appear to he incapable
loi keeping a secret. It seems to burn upon
| their lips till they have uttered it. Let a
j woman ol this description come in posses
j sion of a secret affecting the peace of whole
[ families, which every lie ofhurnanity would
! persuade her to bury in utter oblivion, and
j what does she do ? Stay at home and for-
I get i! by pursuing her accustomed avoca
j tions ! Ah ! no, wet or dry, cold or hot,
out she must go at the earliest hour that it
lis decent to visit. She calls on her most
| intimate friend, perhaps without any defi
j nite intention of unburdening her mind.—
j But when she arrives, she can think of
nothing else. One topic after another is
! started, hut all immediately flag. A
strange air of mist cry and constraint comes
ov. i her, which brings the conversation
entirely to a stand. -\V hat is tiie matter ?
lias any thing happened ? Do tell me
what has happened.’ It is all over.—Out
it must come, if it cost her life. But when
she quiets In r conscience by exacting a
promise of inviolable secrecy—that promise
j of secrecy, however, means that, she will
tell it only to those of her immediate ac
! quaitrtauoe, whom she can trust; -so in a
: bout two days its all over town. It is a
j profound secret until it is found that every’
■ body knows it. Thus it is in the power of
•me two *.r fl.rec w wen, who are so dis
! posed, to keep any Community in a perpet
! ual strife. I haver myself known a whole
I town to be thrown into the most violent ex
• oitement, and a division created which se
i parated families, alienated friends and en
! ti rely broke up all social harmony for
j years, by one base insinuation of not more
j than ten words.”
“ONE, TWO, THREE, AND GO!”
A couple of travellers lately took lodg
ings for about ten days at a tavern in York
county. Pa., ami fared sumptuously, drink
ing two or three bottles of wine daily.—
The last clay a dispute arose about tbe
speed of their horses, and they at last agreed
to enter on the “profitable contest.” The
landlord was appointed judge, each being
the rider of his own horse. When they
were mounted, the judge, like those at the
Olympic games, gave the word, one, two,
three, and Go\ Off they went, and have ne
ver been seen nor heard of since—leaving
the landlord fully compensated by having
had the honor to be their judge.
American Copper. —Dr. Houghton, State
Geologist in Michigan, has published an
account of the mineral resources of the
Northern peninsula of that State bordering
on Lake Superior, lie states that the ore
found in the greatest abundance is copper.
I ii opening a vein with a single blast, Dr. II
threw out nearly two tops of copper ore, in
which were numerous masses of native cop
per, varying in size from the minute speck
to forty pounds in weight. These copper
veins bear a strong resemblance to those of
j Cornwal in England, although the percent
! age yielded is much greater. Os the spe
cimens of ore examined by Dr. 11., not in
cluding the native copper, the per cent, of
pure metal averaged about 21. 19, while
that of Cornwall, since 1771, has never ex
ceeded 12 per cent, of pure metal, and from
1818 to 1822 it was only 8 g per cent.
The mineral district of Michigan is esti
mated at a fraetionover 135 miles in length,
with a breadth varying from 1 to 6 miles.
Cor. of the Savannah Georgian.
FLORIDA, 3d July, 1841.
I Dear Sir. —A party of eight Indians,
! near the head of the Cow Greek, about 8
| miles from Fort Fanning, on the Ist of this
; month, wav-laid two citizens, who were
journeying from the Fort to Newnansville;
on the first fire, one was killed, the other ha
ving no arms, did not wait, for the second
shot, hut with whip and spur, made the best
of his way to Fort Wa-ca-sas-sa. The
troops there, having just returned from a
severe tour of three days’ scout, had not
yet disencumbered themselves of their belts
when this sad news reached them—they
j were off in a moment, and in a few hours
on the ground where this horrid murder
I was perpetrated, but no Indians were found
there. The detachment took the trail and
are pursuing after these red rascals of the
forest with all zeal.
Nothing yet heard of the troops now in
the field. In a few days the result of the
big scout will be known. Yours, truly.
[YOU ME XXVI.
