Newspaper Page Text
THE SOUTHERN SENTINEL
IS PUBLISHED
EVERY “THURSDAY MORNING,
MY
T. LOMAX & CO.
TENNENT LOMAX, editor.
Ofcp on Ranflo'ii)i sired.
Citernnj Department.
Coxouct :d ur CAROLINE LEE HENTZ.
“\e Change in .tie.”
Et.GGSSTKD BY A MOTTO ON A LETTER.
All things of earth are doom’ l to fade,
And some, like us, are born to die ;
Yes, all tliat’a fair and bright was made
To fade away from memory.
But oil! should all prove false and change,
And even than inconstant be—
Should time the friends we love estrange,
There’s one the same—no change in me.
JVo change in me —l’m still the same,
And still tire same I'll be forever—
Though some may think I should not claim
Thy love, and wish our hearts to sever ;
In vain they tell me you’ll forget.
And cold and heart betraying be ;
But, time, whose course is onward yet.
Will prove there is no change in me.
JULIA.
Quincy. Dec. ~th.
fWRITTEN FOR THE SENTINEL.I
TIIE SHAKER VILLAGE.
Did you ever visit a Shaker village? If
you have not, you have no conception of how j
much neatness humanity is capable It is ;
strange, indeed, bow living, eating, working, i
walking beings can live and eat and work j
and walk, without leaving some litter and
dust behind them. But the streets of a Sha- !
ker village are as smooth and clean as a
Southern waxed floor. No pebble ruffles 1
their white, level surface, and the glass on j
the wayside is richer and more beautiful than 1
the finest Brussels.
If you will come with me, 1 will introduce j
yon to one—not only to the village, but to j
its simple, peculiar and hospitable inhabi- •
tants.*
‘die buildings are all of uniform size, and
of uniform style of architecture. They are j
painted white, with sky lights in the roofs,J
situated at considerable distance from the j
street, with but few shade trees in front. But
every yard presents a bright expanse of liv- j
ing green, which even the gossamer’s web is
not allowed to silver. The house of wor
ship stands in the centre of the village, with- i
out dome or spire, a plain, white fabric, with
two doors in front, corresponding to each
other. Look at that snowy, dazzlingly white
floor ! Who could believe that a shoe had
ever been planted upon it? Yet every Sun- I
day, clumsy, high-heeled shoes, with ini- |
niense buckles, not only walk, but dance and
shuffle with superhuman agility, on its spot
less surface.
Those who have never witnessed their pe- S
culiar style of worship, can form no adequate I
idea of it from description. You would im
agine that to see people leaping and frisking
and shuffling on the holy Sabbath day, while
they at the same time keep up a singing and
screeching equal to a concert of owls, would
be a very ridiculous thing and must create
laughter and derision. But I question if the
predominant feeling aroused in a reflecting
mind, is not melancholy. They seem so sin
cere. Carlyle says, the one great attribute
of a hero is sincerity ; if this be true, the lea
der of the band of worshippers in ti is Sha
ker village, must be a first rate hero. He is
a shrewd, penetrating man, with a keen,
bright, black eye, prominent nose, and flexi
ble mouth. His voice is clear and powerful,
and were it divested of a certain nasal twang,
would be ipiite eloquent. Does he really be
lieve in the strange doctrines he preaches, or
js he only trying to gain an ascendency over
less gifted and enlightened minds? He is so
serious, so earnest, it is difficult to believe
him a dissembler. Yet how can be, in the
full blaze ol the nineteenth century, support
such preposterous arguments and declare
them to he the inspirations of the Almighty,
who gave him understanding? He exhorts
us with the zeal of a St. Paul, to forsake the
pomps and vanities of the world, to take up
our cross and follow Christ, and live in that
oneness of spirit which God requires. He
thinks there is no religion beyond the pale
of the Shaker village, no sacrifices beyond
what they exact. But the exhortation is noth
ing to the worship. The diffluent sexes enter
: at their separate doors, and seat themselves
.on snow white wooden benches.placed oppo
site to each other, having a broad space be
tween them.
‘Phe men wear large, broad brimmed hats,
.which they hang carefully against the wall
as soon as they enter, blue homespun coats,
-.with broad skirts, with very long waists, and
shoes such as l have described, with high
heels and immense buckles. They are rud
dy, strong and healthy in appearance, resem
bling in aspect and figure, the hardy yeomen
of New England. But look on the opposite
side of the room, where those pallid women
sit, and mark the contrast. -What can be
the reason ? Is it the peculiar style of their
dress, which gives them that cadaverous
complexion, that lifeless, leaden look ? They
are arrayed in short, white skirts, with short
saques over them, a white muslin neckerchief
folded primly over their neck and bosom, a
white linen moh-cap fastened closely under
the chin, which conceals every tress of hair,
that beautiful ornament which is to the hu
man form, what the tree is to the landscape,
shading and decorating it.
Really there is a great deal in dress, let
poets say what they will of beauty unadorn
ed, or why should they all look so uninter
esting, and almost all so ugly ? Or is it, that
their natural affections being dried up at the
fountain, they are turned into living mum
mies ? Why, then, does the lordly sex look
VOL 111.
so hale and rosy ? Have they no affections |
which being denied the usual channels, be- i
come stagnant pools, fatal to bloom and
health ?
When the signal for worship is given,
about half a dozen aged persons rise from I
the opposite sides and arrange themselves in i
a kind of octagonal form. Being too anti
quated to dance, the task of singing devolves
on them—and such singing, who ever heard
before ‘? So shrill, so discordant, and yet
strange to say, there is a certain wild melody j
in it, not unpleasing to the ear. It consists
of a monotonous chanting, and the words
are a continued refrain, such as—
“Babylen is fallen, is fallen, is fallen ;
Zion is buiblod, is builded, is budded,” &c.
When the dancing commences, they march
two and two, at first slowly and demurely,
but as the spirit waxes warm within them,
their movements quicken, and they diversify
the stately march with various evolutions
and shuffles and balances impossible to de
scribe. Then the whole band of worshippers ;
join in the singing in full chorus, and the
white-washed walls ring with the unearthly
sounds; all the time, during this vehement ex
ercise, while the faces of the men glow with j
a deeper hue of red, and the dew of exercise
gathers on their brows, there is not the faint
est suffusion of red on the pale, parchment
cheeks of the women. Have they any veins
through which the coming and going blood
conveys tidings to and from the heart?
There is only one face in that passionless
hand which gives you an idea of human sen
sibility.
“0!i! call her fair, not pale.”
There is a faint, very faint color percepti
ble on her youthful cheek. Her eyes are of j
a soft grey with long, cui ling lashes, and in !
spite of her opaque, disfiguring cap and care- j
tally concealed hair, she is almost beautiful, j
W iien she dances, she does not jump up and
down with superfluous activity, but moves j
with a kind of dignified indifference through
the prescribed formula of motion, as if she
disdained the mockery of such worship.—
Who is she—this young and lovely girl—this
one sweet flower, blooming in the wilder
ness? She is an orphan, very recently ad- !
milted to the establishment, and this is the
first time she has ever exhibited herself in
; public.
Poor girl! it is no wonder her heart pal
pitates beneath those stiff linen folds, and
I that her tender, appealing eyes are often tur- I
ned to the spectators as if imploring their
j compassion, and then quickly withdrawn in
i shame and embarrassment. Poverty and be
i reavemeut have brought her to this. She !
had no home, and the kind, compassionate
Shakers (they are very kind and compassion
: ate to the po ;•) opened their protecting arms
! to receive her. They tell her that the world
is full of vanity and vexation of spirit; that
it is full of snares for youth and beauty like
hers; that with them she will find peace and
happiness. They had better watch those
handsome, dashing young men among the
1 group of spectators. Their glances may tell
j her that she is beautiful, her vanity may be
j excited, or what is more natural, her heart
be awakened, and will she find happiness
then in her lonely and loveless existence?
There is one black woman among the wor
| shippers. How strangely her ebon face
shines out from the stiff* frame-work that sur
| rounds it! She looks a rara avis in that pale
1 sisterhood, and it is a matter oT curiosity how
i she came among them. She seems to enjoy
j the exercise of dancing most enthusiastical
ly, and sometimes actually shows her ivory
teeth in a broad smile of delight.
What a very strange people they are! Ap
parently so zealous in their peculiar mode of
; adoration, so diligent in the discharge of
their duties, so separate from the rest of the
: world, so convinced that they, and they only,
are the elect of God! They have a Bible of
their own, to whose rules they strictly ad
here.
The only intercourse which is permitted to
| the males and females, is to sit down at the
same common hoard and to worship under
j the same roof. They abjure the pleasures of
social communion, all sweet, domestic joys,
all the holy ties of love and nature. God
said of man, when he placed him in the bow
ers of Eden, “that it was not good for him to
be alone.” If it was not good for him in the
garden of Paradise, surely it is not in this
sorrow-stricken and sin-darkened world of
ours. Yet llie devout Shaker, wiser than his
Maker, thinks he is called upon to sacrifice
| all the affections of the heart on the altar of
: religion, and root up every flower that glad
dens the waste places of life.
Yet he is charitable, industrious, honest
and hospitable. He is a worshipper of truth,
and a minister of kindness. There is much
; and pleasant intercourse between him and
the world’s people, on matters of business.
The Shaker’s seed garden supplies the sur
rounding country. Their brooms make clean
the adjacent houses. In their distilleries, the
j most delicious rose-water is distilled from the
I gathered leaves. Their looms fabricate the
most beautiful carpets, and the finest coun
terpanes. Truly they are a singular and in
j teresting people.
j C. L H.
Quincy, Dec. sth, 1852.
QO” A Question by and to the Y oung
and Beautiful.—“ What,” asked Margarita
J of Cecilia, “what, dearest, do you think is
: really the food of Cupid!” . And CeeHia an
swered—-“ Arrow root.” * ‘
JACQUF/S FUNERAL
A PLAN TATIOX SCENE.
“The earliest summon’d and ihe longest spared,
Are here deposited with tribute paid
Various ; but unto each a tribute paid.”
w e insert from the Southern Matron, a pic
ture, executed with the exquisite touches of
Caroline Gilman, which will be familiar to
I
many of onr readers:
Let me pause to bestow a parting notice |
on one who is still associated with the happi
est and tenderest scenes of my youth
Jacque’s labors, as is customary with aged
slaves, had been gradually suspended. He j
still performed a few voluntary duties, and
might be seen on sunshiny days propping up
a failing fence, clearing an encumbered
hedge, drying nets, making baskets of rush
es or oak, attending to his pigs and poultry,
or with a characteristic eye to his master’s
interests, tottering to the fields, and shaking !
his head if iie detected any symptom of.
waste. Still retaining a feeling of authority I
he was angered bv idleness ; even the young
negroes, whose greatest toil was to turn
summersets, and dance to their own whistling, j
tried to look busy or grave when his eye was
on them, long after his corporeal and mental
powers had ceased their activity. lJut the
time drew near when old Jacque must die.
It was in vain that mamma gave him her per
sonal attendance, Sent him daily luxuries, and
anticipated his wants with almost filial ten
derness ; the golden cord of his life was
loosened, and we were told one morning he
had died, breathing a paiyer for his master’s
family.
Mamma had asked him many years before,
if there was anything she could do for his
comfort.
“Tank you much, my missis,” he answer
ed ; “Jacque hah everyting him want in
dis world, ’cept dc shroud, praise God.”
Mamma gave him money and he expended
it on gtave clothes. He had taken them out
and aired them from year to year ; now they
were, indeed, to enfold his venerable remains
and we were a mourning family ; true we
were not clad in weeds, but a tender tie had
been riven, and it was riven with tears.—
None hut those who live under our peculiar
institutions can imagine the strong bond ex
isting between faithful servants and llie fam
ilies with whom they are connected.
I was informed by Maum Nanny, Jacque’s
sister, that he bad left something for me in
th esill of his chest, as his dying bequest—
Ail old pocket book was found there, which
1 opened and discovered several hills of conti
nental money carefully wrapped in paper.
Plantation negroes prefer to bury their
dead at night, or before sunrise. Neighbor
ing plantations ar6 notified, and all who can
obtain tickets from overseers attend. A spot
of ground is allotted f<*r their burial-places
and simple monuments of affection may
usually be found in them. Tiie ceremony
of interment is commonly performed by a
class-leader, a pious colored man, who
is the spiritual teacher of the neighborhood
and prepares his brethren by an examina
tion into their belief, and a watch over their
conduct and feelings, for communion.
The “pomp and circumstance” of the bu
rial, for it is not less among slaves, in proper
lion, than in palaces, delayed the funeral
until midnight. As the visitors assembled,
they crowded the hut of ihe deceased, and
when (fiat was full, stood around the en
trance near the coffin. At short intervals,
some among the group commenced a hymn,
in which all joined; refreshments were then
decorously distributed.
The death of Jacque had been particularly
affecting to me, for I had been bis especial
favorite. I went with the boys to see him af
ter his decease; and though 1 did not feel the
faintness that came over me at witnessing the
remains of grandmamma, yet I had that diz
zy sensation which youth often experiences
at the immense difference between a bright
intellectual glance and the glazed eye or
moveless lid, between the warm touch of
affection, and the stiff cold hand that returns
no pressure.
The night of his interment was mild, and
l sat at my window by the starlight, watch
ing the approach of the negroes as they cross
| ed the fields, or came through the avenue.
1 ‘Porches were seen glowing in the range of
whitewashed huts, and a bush-light was flam
ing near Jacque’s habitation, which was so bril
liant that 1 perceived the coffin and the groups
gathering round it; while occasionally strains
of their hymn came floating with a softened
cadence on the breeze. The procession was
formed: six women, dressed in
| ded the coffin, and the pall-beareis, bearing
I torches, were on each side. Their path lay
| near the house, and nothing was to be heard
but an occasional ejaculation of “Lord Je
sus!” “He knows!” “God have mercy!”
“His will be done !”
The burial place was near the river, and a
huge oak threw its arms over it, as if protect
i ing the dwelling of the dead. I could see
them as they wound down the slope and stood
in a circle round the grave, distance still sof
tening their sacred song. It was one which I
had heard from infancy in their devotional
: exercises, but never had it touched my feel
i ings as now, when it rose over poor Jacque’s
! iast dwelling-place. The leader spoke ; at
; first his voice was low ; then, rising to that
! declamatory shout which often carries the
j feelings captive, it reached me where I sat.
! He described the tomb of Lazarus, and said
that Jesus wept, and that they might weep,
for a good brother was gone, and there was
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 23, 1852.
no Jesus by his grave to bring him back ; he
dwelt on the character of Jacque, and on
their duty in imitating his example; told them
to lie grateful for their religious blessing, for,
while the heathen were in darkness, a great
light had shone upon them; dwelt long on
their sinfulness and God’s anger, and taxed
his imagination to paint the torments of hell,
unless they repented and accepted the gosjtel.
Familiarity with his dialect prevented, with
me, all that might have been ludicrous to a
stranger, lie prayed for his master and mis
tress, that God might reward them for all
their goodness to brother Jacque. “Oh Lord
Jesus,” lie cried, “bless my young rnaussa.
Gie ’em good counsel, and let ’em drink of
de water of life ; and bless my young missis ;
may she know de Lord dat bought her, and
may she bring her alabaster box of ointment
and pour it out for the love of her rnaussa,
Christ.”
As these words reached me, I could not
restrain my tears; I laid my head on the win
dow-sill, and sobbed aloud. Another hymn
was sung. The words of Watts, the sweet
singer of the Christian Israel, whose tender
notes fall like gentle dew on the heart of
monarch and slave, rose in the quiet midnight
under that starry heaven,
“Why Jo we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death’s alarms ?
’Tis but the voice that Jesus sends,
To call them to his arms.”
As they ceased, the waving lights passed
away. I was again alone with night in its
silent beauty. I threw myself on my bed ;
the sounds still vibrating on my memory ;
and as mv eyes closed in sleep, a vision of
the mansion whither the spirit of Jacque had
risen, came before me, and I heard cherub
voices welcome him to his heavenly home.
A plain marble slab may be seen at Rose
land, on which is inscribed,
“Sacred
To the Memory of
JACQUE,
A faithful slave,
His master bears this testimony to his worth.”
VALUABLE HINTS TO YOUNG MEN
ABOUT COMMENCING BUSINESS.
Anew edition of Freedlev’s “Practical
Treatise on Business,” published by Lippin
cott, Crambo & Cos., has been issued, con
taining many valuable additions; and among
these we find some bints to young men just
commencing the world for themselves, from
the pen of John Gfigg, Esq., of . our city,
which ought to be printed and framed, like a
diploma, and bung up in every counting
room and place of business in the cot try.
I In a previous reference to Mr. Freedley’s ex
| cellent book, we extracted, with commenda
tion, some brief hints to young men, from
1 the pen of Mr. Grigg, which we found there
in. In this new edition, these hints, at the
request of Mr. Freed ley, have been extend
ed, and we regard them of such practical
utility, that we copy them for our readers
entire. Mr Griggsays:
“I. Be industrious and economical. Waste
neither time nor money in small and useless
pleasures and indulgences. If the young
can he induced to begin to save, the moment
they enter on the paths of life, the way will
ever become easier before them, and they
wilt not fail to attain a competency, and that
without denying themselves any of the real
; necessaries and comforts of life. Our peo
ple are certainly among the most improvi
dent and extravagant on the face of the
earth. It is enough to make the merchant of
the old school, who looks back and thinks
what economy, prudence and discretion he
had to bring to bear on his own business,
(and which are in fact the bases of all suc
cessful enterprise,) start back in astonish
ment to look at lhe ruthless waste and extra
vagance of the age and people. The highest
test of respectability, with me, is honest in
dustry. Well-directed industry makes men
happy. The really noble class—the class that
was noble when “Adam delv’d and Eve spun,’’
and have preserved their patent to this day
untarnished, is the laborious and industrious.
Until men have learned industry, economy
and self-control, they cannot be safely en
trusted with wealth.
11. To ind usiry and economy, add self
reliance. Do not take too much advice. The
business man must keep at the helm and
steer his own ship. In early life, every one
should he taught to think for himself. A
man’s talents are never brought out until he
is thrown to some extent upon his own re
sources. If in every difficulty lie has only
to run to his principal, and then implicitly ;
obey the directions he may receive, he will
never acquire that aptitude of perception,
and that promptness of decision, and that
firmness of purpose, which are absolutely
necessary to those who hold important sta
tions. A certain degree of Independent feel
ing is essential to the full development of
the intellectual character.
111. Remember that punctuality is the mo
ther of confidence. It is not enough that the
merchant fulfils his engagements: he must
and • what lie undertakes precisely at the time,
as well as in the way he agreed to. The
mutual dependence of merchants is so great,
that their engagements, like a chain, which,
according to the law of physics, is never
stronger than its weakest link, are oftener
broken through the weakness of others than
their own. But a prompt fulfilment of en
gagements is not only of the utmost import
ance, because it enables others to meet their j
own engagements promptly. It is also the
best evidence that the merchant has his af
fairs well ordered—his means at command,
his forces marshalled, and “everything ready
for action”—in short, that he knows his own
strength. This it is which inspires confi
dence, as much perhaps as the meeting oi the
engagement.
IV. Attend to the minutiae of the busi
ness, small things as well as great. See that
the store is opened early, goods brushed up,
twine and nails picked up, and all ready for
action. A young man should consider capi
tal, if he have it, or as he may acquire it,
merely as tools with which he is to work, not
as a substitute for the necessity of labor-
It is often the case that diligence in employ
ments of less consequence is the most success
ful introduction to great enterprises. Those
make the best officers who have served in the
ranks. We may say of labor, as Coleridge
said of poetry, it is its own sweetest reward.
It is the best of physic.
V. Let (he young merchant remember
that selfishness is the meanest of vices, and
it is the parent of a thousand more. It not
only interferes both with the means and with
the end of acquisition—not only makes mo
ney more difficult to get, and not worth
1 having when it is got, but it is narrowing to
; the mind and to the heart. Selfishness “keeps
! a shilling so close to the eye, that it cannot see
Ia dollar beyond.” Never he narrow and con
tracted in your views. Life abounds in in
stances of the brilliant results of a generous
policy.
Be frank. Say what you mean. Do what
you say. So shall your fiiends know and
take it for granted that you mean to do what
isjust and right.
VI. Accustom yourself to think vigorous
ly. Mental capital, like pecuniary, to be
j worth anything must be weli invested—must
be rightly adjusted and applied, and to this
I end, careful, deep and intense thought is ne
| cessary if great results are looked for.
VII. Marry early. The man of business
should marry as soon as possible, after twen
| ty-two or twenty-three years of age. A wo
! man of mind will conform to the necessities
of the day of small beginnings: and, in
’ choosing a wife, a man should look at, Ist.
| The heart: 2d. The mind : 3d. The person.
VIII. Everything, however remote, that
| has any bearing upon success, must be taken
; advantage of. The business man should be
! continually on the watch for information,
and ideas that will throw light on his path,
! and he should he an attentive reader of all
i practical books, especially those relating to
j business, trade, <spc., as well as a patron ofuse
i ful and ennobling literature.
| IX. N ever forget a favor, for ingratitude is
| the basest trait of man’s heart. Always hon
| or your country, and remember that our
country is the very best poor man’s counted
i in the world. *1
Were rules like the above carefully obseiv
i ved bv every man who commences business,
j there would be fewer failures, while periodi
cal commercial disasters, sweeping over the
country like an epidemic, would cease to be
a mercantile experience. Let yomfg men
ponder them well. — Arthur’s Gazette.
j :t “
! TEETH EXTRACTED WIJHOUT PA-IN.
i Being troubled with Og raging tooth, Pat
-1 l ick Murphy rushed into a dentist’s office, the
other day, muffling his howls of anguish in
: a dirty red pocket-handkerchief.
“Faix, docthor,” he cried, drawing up his
right leg and drawing down his right shoul
der, with an expression of ineffable torture,
j “I got a bloodtl|y bad grinder ’at’s thryin’ to
! jump through the top o’ my head ; an’ I see
i by ver sign ’at ye exthract teeth widout p-a-
I p-a—in.”
“Without pain, sir, and on short notice,”
said the doctor ; “will \ T ou sit down ?”
“That l will ; an’ sure you’re very kind,
docthor, and ye may dig out the nasty stump
; as soon as iver ye like.”
The tooth was out sooner than he could
possibly have anticipated. He rubbed bis
eyes, and would not believe iFwas gone, till
he had seen it in the dentist’s instrument, and
put his own dirty finger in the cavity.
“Ugh ! the ugly divil !” he muttered, doub
ling his fist at the innocent tooth, “so I’ve
got rid of ye at last ! Cheap enough,
and it didn’t hurt a bit. Bless ye, docthor,
ye’re very kind ! and when I have another
suc-li, shall l be-aflher throublin’ ye again ?’
“Certainly, at any time.”
“Thank ye, docthor ! Good day, dear
docthor.”
“But,” said the dentist, “/ must trouble
you for my fee.”
“Your —hey ?”
“My fee—fifty cents.”
“Fifty cints /” cried Patrick, in astonish
ment. “Would I he afther givin’ ye fifty
cints? And what did I come here for, but
’at I’m a poor divil, widout fifty cints in the
world, and ye advertise to extrac teeth for
nothing ?”
“For nothing? What do you mean ?”
“Faix, docthor, don’t your sign read, i
Teeth extracted widout payin’ ( pain ?”)
The earnestness and simplicity of Patrick
impressed the dentist so favorably, that,
laughing at the blunder, he sent him away
witiiout exacting his fee.
“Och ! ha ! ha! ha !” said Pat. archly, when
once into the street, “I corned it over him
this time, Iho’ 1 As if I didn’t know the dif
ference between payin ! and pain. But pay- ;
in’ would’ve been pain to me ; so I calcu
late, on the whole, I got off cheap enough. I
Mike, will ye go and dbrink f”
• U: t £'i : ‘ V • 7*
A WITNESS “AS IS A WITNESS.”
Some years since, professional engage
ments required 1113’ presence at a Circuit
Court which was in session in one of the
villages of Western New lork, and during
the term, an incident occurred which may be
interesting, if not useful, to those legal gen
tlemen who are partial to the laws of evi
dence.
A cause was tried, in which a question
! arose as to personal property claimed to have
been sold some time previously under an exe
j cution, and the plaintiff’ in the case called a
witness to establish the fact of the sale.
The following evidence was solicited on
cross examination of the witness:
Question by Counsel. —Sir, you say \ou
attended the sale on the execution spoken of
Did you keep the minutes ot that sale ?
Witness.— Don’t know, sir, but 1 did ; don’t
recollect whether 1 kept the minutes, or the
Sheriff, or nobody. I think it was one of us.
Counsel. —Well, sir, will you tell me what
; articles were sold on that execution ?
Here the witness hesitated, not willing to
commit himself by going into particulars, un
til the patience of the counsel became ex
| hausted, and he pressed a special interroga
tory.
Counsel. —Did you on that occasion sell a
! threshing machine ?
Witness.— Yes, I think we did.
Counsel.—l wish you to be positive. Are
! yon sure of it ?
Witness. —Can’t say that I am sure of it;
and when I think of it, L don’t know as we
did; think we didn’t.
j Counsel. —Will you swear, then, that you
did not sell one ?
Wit ness. —No, sir: don’t think I would, for
I can’t say whether we did or didn’t.
I U
Counsel. —Did you sell a horse power ?
Witness. —Horse power?
Counsel.—Yes, horse power!
Witi/icss.—Horse power! Well, it seems
to me we did. And then, it seems to me we
didn’t. I don’t know now as I can recollect
whether I remember there was any horse
power there: and if there was any there, I
I can’t say whether we sold it or not; but I
| don’t think we did; though it may he per
haps that we did after all. It’s some time ago,
and I don’t like to say certainly’,
i Counsel.— Well, perhaps you can tell me
j this: Did you sell a fanning mill?
Witness. —Yes, sir, we sold a
I guess I’m sure of that. Jm-
Counsel. —Well,you sweauto that, do you ?
one thing, though I dmAft see it ou the list
Witness. — Wh I may be mistaken about
it; perhaps It may be it was some
body elseVfanning mill at some other time;
not su®
Counsel (to the Court) —l should like to
know, may it please the court, what this wit
fliess does know, and what he is sure of?
I Wi incss (to the Counsel) —Well, sir, I
I know one thing that I am sure of, and that is,
j that at that sale we sold either a thresh-
I ing machine, or a horse power, a fanning mill,
or one, or all, or either of them, but I don’t
; know which. — N. Y. Spirit.
THE MAN WHO TOOK THE HOMEOPA
THIC PILLS.
A few days since a friend of mine, who has
, been an invalied for some three years, and
who for the past year had settled down to be
1 a fixed and confirmed hypochondriac, was
induced, after much persuasion by his friends,
to call in the aid of one of our most distin
guished homeopathic phy’sicans, not, however,
until he had swallowed a good portion of the
contents of two or three apothecary shops,
besides any quantity of roots and herbs, re
commended by some half dozen or more In
dian doctors and doctresses! After a close;
and rigid examination of the symptoms of my j
friend, the learned doctor informed me that
with the greatest care and aiteution, my
friend might perhaps be again restored to a
comfortable, if not a sound state of health, I
hut that it would require many’ months to do j
so. He therefore left a box of pills, yvith the j
instruction to my friend’s wife to administer j
to him one every two hours of the ensuing :
I ten days, at the expiration of which time he
would again call upon him.
M\ r friend being extremely particular about
j following the phvsican’s directions, inunedi- :
ately took to his chamber, and after undressing |
linn seif, and placing his watch in a conspic
uous position; so as not to have the hour
pass and he neglect to gulp down his pill, he ;
proceeded to syvallow No. 1, and the next se- J
cond hour dpwn went No. 2, and so on to No.
3, when the wife and nurse, who had charge
of the invalid/perceiving that he yvas quite
comfortable, tola him they yvould go and at- !
tend to the domestic-duties of the family, and
leave the box of pills (which were verj’ small
while ones) on a shelf in the closet, aud as
lie appeared so much could take j
them himself, as the hours cSb© round. —
After swallowing, as he supposed, sdme dozen !
of the pills, he dropped into a sound sleep, in
which he continued quietly for the space scif
eight or ten hours, and upon waking found
his dear yvife sitting by his bedside watching
him yvith all that fond solicitude that none but
the face of an affectionate wife can portray 7 .
On his wife making the enquiry “how he
felt?’ he said, “I feel quite relieved, but my i
mouth is somewhat dry and parched how- {
ever, during that day and the next, he did
not seem so well, and they decided to dis
pense with the pills for a day or tvyp, to. see
yvhat effect those already taken would have
upon his system
TERMS OF PUBLICATION.
One Copy, per annum, if paid in advance,. ..$2 00
“ “ “ “ “ in six mordis, 250
“ “ “ “ “ at end of year, 300
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
One square, first insertion, - - - - - $1 00
“ “ each subsequent insertion, - 50
A liberal deduction made in favor of those who
i advertise largely.
NO. 52.
After three or four days’ strict dieting my
; friend began to feel much hotter, and at the
i expiration of ten days his physician called
; again to see him; after feeling his pulse, and
critically examining his eye and tongue, ho
i pronounced him so far recovered that it
| would be unnecessary for Idm to continue
j taking the pills, but advised him to remain in
| his room for a few days longer, and observe
a strict diet. During that and the next day
j my friend continued to improve both in men
tal as well as physical vigor, and requested
his wife to bring in his little daughter for him
; to play and toy with, who, by the way, is
j one of the most lovely rosy-cheeked, flaxen*
; haired little angels that I ever beheld. As the
little cherub trotted into the room and flew
into its parent’s embrace, flinging its little
; arms around its father’s neck, 1 saw a tear
! coursing down the cheek of my old friend,
I which was only checked by the little girl
! crying out, “Oh ! father, dear, ain’t you well
; enough to string the heads that Aunty Sarah
J gave me week before last ?” The father
j replied, “Yes, darling, where are they?”
. “Mamma put them in a little box and set
! them in the closet.” My friend got up, went
j to the closet, took down a small box, and
I showing it to his little daughter, asked “if
that was the one her mamma put the
I beads in ?”
“Yes, dear papa.”
Mv friend turning round with elongated
j face, and eyes sticking out of his head like a
| lobster’s, screeched out, “Good God! oldfcl
\ low ! I’ve swallowed a tcaspoonf l id of “Mat
j ty’s little white beads, instead of the pills the
| Doctor left me ! Do 30a think they will bo
I of injury to me?”
On 1113’ giving him assurance they would
not, he instantly seized his hat and cane, and
rushed for Barker’s, where he immediately
called for two brace of woodcock, a pair of
black ducks, and a bottle of old Burgundy,
and after doing justice to “Harvey’s” ban
quet, walked quietly home, and (as he after
wards informed me) crawled up to bed with
out waking his wife, but with a firm resolve
that if he ever again swallowed white beqd&j
instead of homeopathic pills, he would Leefr
it to himself, as f’requentljjE’Vhile''passing
along the the little boys
say, “Themorgps the man that was cured by
swalL|ptßg :i string of while beads !”— Spirit
ms the Times.
INTERESTING TO LADIES.
Hereditary Features.— The author of
the work entitled “Records of Creation,”
mentions some curious facts under this
branch of his subject:—“A.peculiar thickness
of the under lip has been hereditary to the
Imperial House of Hapsburg ever since the
marriage, some centuries ago, with the Polish
family of Jagelion. whence it came. In our
own royal family a certain fulness of the lower
and lateral parts of the face is conspicuous
in the portraits of the whole series of sove
reigns, from George I. to Victoria, and has
been equally marked in other members of the
family. The females of the Ducal House of
Gordon have long been remarkable for a pe
culiar elegant conformation of the neck. The
Clackmannanshire Bruces, who are descond
; ed from a common stock with the famous
I Robert Bruce of Scotland, are said to have
! that strongly-marked form of the cheekbones
j and jaws which apears on. the coins of that
i heroic monarch, as it din in his actual face
when his bones were disinterred at
line, about thirty years ago. The prevalent
tallness of the inhabitants of Potsdam, many
of whom are descended from the gigantic
guards of Frederick I. ; the Spanish features
observable in the people of the county of
Galway, in which, some centuries ago, soma
j Spanish settlements were made; and the he
j reditary beauty of the women of Prague, are
\ well-known facts, wiiich have frequently at
; traded the attention of chronologists. The
| burgesses of Rome (the most invariable por
| tion of every population) exhibit, at the pre
sent day, precisely the same type of face and
form as their ancestors, whose busts may be
seen carved in relief on the ancient sarcopb.i- ’
: gi; and the Jewish physiognomies portrayed
I upon the Sepulchral monuments of Egypt, >
j are identical with those which may beobserv
j ed among modern Jews in the streets of any
1 of our great cities.”
WEBSTER’S HEAD.
He was a great man, a man of the lar
: gest mould, a great body and a great brain :
| he seemed made to last a hundred 3’ears.—
j Since Socrates, there ha3 seldom been a head
so massive, huge—since the stormy features
; of Michael Angelo,
“The head-that rounded Peter’s dome,
And groined the aisles of Christian Rome,”
1 He who sculptured Day and Njgbt into
! such beautiful forms—lie looked them in his
! face before he chiselled them in stone.—
I Dupuytren and Cuvier are said lo be tiie on
; ly men in our day that have bad a brain so
! vast. Since Charlemagne, I think there has
not been such a grand figure in all Christen
dom. A large man, decorous in dress, dig
nified in deportment, he walked off as if ho
felt himself a king. Men from the country
who knew him not, stared at him, as he pass
ed through our streets.
The coal-heavers and porters of London
looked on him as one of the great forces of
the globe ; they recognized him a native king.
In fee S male of the United States, be look
ed an E Vqieror in that council. Even the ma
jestic Calhoun seemed common compared
“with him. Clay looked and Van Bu
ren but a fox. What a inoqfli be had ! It
was a lion’s mouth. Yet therqj was a sweet
grandeur in his smile, and a woman’s sweet
ness when he would. What a brpw it was !
what eves! like charcoal lire iufthe bottom
of a deep dark well. His face,was rugged
with volcanic fires, great passions and great
thoughts. ....
w KXtlo front of Jove himself,
Ao eye like Alsus, to threaten aud eqnrnan i.'’
(Theodore,Parker.
• 1 * ’"’"HPT