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be dashed to the ground, While the horse
continued at the top of his speed.
• Whoop-e-e!’ shouted the clown, *if Joe
aint on his feet!’
* Good gracious !’ exclaimed the ladies.
The doctor started, but said nothing.
Joe now dropped the bridle, and said he
felt warm.
‘Take off your coat to it, Mr. Peters,’
replied the clown; you’ve got plenty of
friends here.’
Off came Joe’s frock-coat and his bcll
crowned hat, and the opinion very general
ly obtained that he looked much improved
in his appearance. The clown had donned
the coat and hat, and now cut a more ludi
crous figure than ever, as he followed round
the ring, picking up the coats and vests
which Joe threw off one after the other, to
the number of twenty, or more. At length
Joe bad come to the last vest, and was un
buttoning bis suspenders, when the clown
called out—
‘Stop, Joo ! stop ! there's ladies here !’
But off went the pants, while the clown,
with iiis hands over his face, continued —
‘ Stop ! stop ! Ob, Joe, aint you ashamed
of yourself 1 oh, for shame !’
Then uncovering his face, he beheld his
man Joe transformed into a woman, trigged
out in a flounced muslin, and a fashionable
opera hat. This sudden metamorphose
was hailed with one universal squall from
the audience, while the clown shrunk aghast
from the apparition of the wife from whom
he had absconded. But on went the horse
amid the deafening shout—when suddenly j
the female dress dropped from the rider, !
and there stood Mr. Harrington revealed, in
all his gilt and spangles, who, after a few
extra feats, just to show them what Joe Pe
ters, from Craker’s Neck, could do, threw
a backward somerset from liis liorse and
retired, amidst the reiteratedj acclamations
of the audience.
The clown, who now presented the ap
tcarance of a wonderfully corpulent man,
aving stuffed Joe’s coats, jackets, gown,
&c., into the waist of his coat, approached
his master with a chop-fallen air, and in
quired—
-1 Master, can you tell me why I am very
much like our friend, the doctor ?’
* No, why are you J’
‘ ’Cause,’ said he, unbuttoning the coat
and letting the garments fall at his feet—
‘ ’cause” I feel a great deal smaller than I
did a while ago.’ .
Such another shout as followed, never
before re-echoed through the quiet streets
and lanes of Pineville. The doctor was
in every mouth : ‘ Hurra for the doctor !’
‘ How do you feel mow, doctor V ‘ls that
the way they does in Augusta ?’ * When
you gwine to show agin, doctor ? I’s sure
to come !’ and a hundred other such jeers
were aimed at the unfortunate doctor; who,
mortified to such a degree that he knew not
what to do with himself, rose in his seat and
addressed the almost frantic multitude—
‘lt’3 a fact, ladiesjand gentle>e/ —l was
most oudaciously tuck in, that^time —that’s
a fact.’
Fortunately, it was the last act of the
performances, for such*was the ungoverna
ble humor of the crowd, after what liad
happened, that no more order could be es
tablished that night.
How matters were conducted on the fol
lowing night—positively the last of the !
‘ great attraction’ in Pineville —we have not
learned ; we have heard it hinted, howev
er, that doctor Peter Jones did not attend,
though he was loudly called for by the au
dience. W. T. T.
BEAUTY.
The following contains a beautiful idea,
on a beautiful subject, beautifully expressed:
“ Most heartily do I agree with the sage
who said, with a sigh— ‘ Well, philosophers
may argue and plain men may fret, hut
beauty will find its way to the human heart.’
And it should be so, for so hath the Creator
wisely and kindly ordained it. Hehath vouch
safed to man the faculty of perceiving beauty.
He hath made the perception of beauty a
source of delight to him, and he hath filled
the earth, the sea, and the skies, with bright
and beautiful objects, which he may con
template and admire. - Else, why is the
earth, and every thing upon it, so varied of
form, so full of beauty of outline 1 Why
are not the hills, the rocks, the trees all
square? Why runneth not the river canal
like to the oceon ? Why is not the grass
black ? Why cometh the green hud, the
white blossom, the golden fruit and the yel
low leaves ? Why is not the firmament of a
leaden changeless hue ? Aby hang not the
clouds like sponges in the sky ! Wby the
bl ight tints of morning, the splendor of the
noon, the gorgeous hues of sunset ? \\ by,
in a word, docs the great firmament, like an
ever-turning kaleidescope, at every revolv
ing hour present to man anew and beauti
ful picture of the skies ? I care not that 1
shall he answered that these and all other
beauties, whether of sight or sound, are the
results of arrangements for other ends. I
care not, for it is enough for me that a bene
volent God hath so constituted us, as to en
able us to derive pleasure and benefit from
them ; and, by so doing, he hath made it in
cumbent upon us to draw from so abundant
a source.”
—————
The Temptation and Avowal.—*” I have
played,” said Maltravers, “ and 1 know the
temptation. I dare not play now. I love
the excitement, but 1 have been humbled at
the debasement; it is a moral drunkenness
that is worse than the physical.” “\ ou
speak warmly.” “ Because I feel keenly.
I once won of a man I respected, who was
poor. His agony was a dreadful lesson to
me. I went home, and was terrified to
think I had felt so much pleasure in the pain
of another. I have never played since that
n\"\it.”—Bidwer.
The Standard. —Judge a man by his ac
tions ; a poet by his eye ; an idler by his
fingers ; a lawyer by his leer ; u player by
his strut ; a boxer by his sinews ; an Irish
man by his rotundity ; a Scotchman by his
shrug; a Justice by his frown ; u great
man by liis modesty ; an editor by his old
coat ; a tailor by liis agility ; a fuller by liis
elbow; a newly-marrie 1 couple by their
smiling faces ; and a woman by her neat
* ness.
Desire of Ex elling and Desire oj Excel
lence.—The desire of excelling is not the
same with the desire of excellence : the dis
tinction between them is pretty nice, and
commonly overlooked, but there is a just
and real one. Men arc forward enough to
aspire in great things, hut then it is only to
give them a pre-eminence and superiority
over others ; and they have so little fond
ness for the height, they aspire to, that they
j would be very well contented to stand where
! they are, provided they could he sure that
nobody else could come up to them. But
; he that desires excellence can take nothing
| else in compensation for it: to see others
without it affords him no gratification, nor is
his joy in the attainment abated by the suc
cess of others, for he regards only the in
trinsic value of the possession, without en
vying or despising the acquisition of his
neighbors. When once lie begins to say
within himself, Nobody is so vigilant in his
conduct as I am, and to make an amusement
of pitying the thoughtless multitude around
him, he is drawing within the magical circle
of vanity : for real pity always carries a de
gree of uneasiness with it; and whenever
we feel a pleasure in the exercise of it, we
may be sure it is spurious and hypocritical.
If we could thus bring our desires to fix
upon the attainment of real excellence, with
out regard to what is done by others, we
should lose nothing by it, even in respect to
that superiority the world is so fond of, for
whatever distinction is within’ our power,
we shall attain by constantly doing our best.
I would have a man endeavor to shine in
conversation ; hut why need he strive to
outshine-? Let him shine as much as he can,
and if outshining he in liis power, it will fol
low of course ; if uot, he will hut fret and
vex himself by aiming at it. Not that 1
would wish to recommend a blindness to the
acquisitions or defects of others, b it then
they ought to operate as examples, rather
than as motives, becaus'e the same things
would he desirable, or the contrary, wheth
er they belonged to any one else or not.
Intemperance is to be pitied and adhored
for its own sake much more than for its out
ward consequences. These consequences
owe their chief bitterness to their criminal
source. Wc speak of the miseries which
the drunkard carries into liis family. But
take away his own brutality, and how light
ened would be these miseries. We talk of
liis wife and children in rags. Let the rags
continue ; but suppose them to he the ef
fects of an innocent cause. Suppose the
drunkard to have been a virtuous husband,
and an affectionate father, that sickness, not
vice, has brought his family thus low : sup
pose his wife and children hound to him by
a strong love which a life of labor for llieii
support and of unwearied kindness has
awaked ; suppose them to know that liis
toils for their welfare had broken down liis
frame, suppose him able to say, ‘we are poor
in this World’s good, but rich in affection
and religious trust. lam going from you,
but I leave you to the father of the father
less and to the widow’s God.’ Suppose this
and how changed these rags ! lmw changed
the cold naked room. The heart's warmth
can do much to withstand the winter’s cold;
and there is hope and there is h >nor in this
virtuous indigence.
Zeal. —The river that runs slow and
creeps by the hanks, and begs leave of every
turf to let it pass, is drawn into little hol
lowness, and spreads itself in sni tiler por
tions, and dies with diversion; hut when it
runs with vigorousness, and a full stream,
and breaks down every obstacle, making it
even as its own brow, it stays not to be
tempted with little avocations, and to creep
into holes, hut runs into the sea through ful
and useful channels: so is a man’s prayer;
if it moves upon the feet of abated appetite
it wanders into the society of every trifling
accident, and stays at the corners of tin
fancy, and talks with every object it meets
and cannot arrive at heaven; hut when it i
carried upon the wings of passion and
strong desires, a swift motion and a hungry
appetite, it passes on through all the inter
media! regions of clouds, and stays not til!
it dwells at the foot of the throne, where
mercy sits, and thence sends holy showers
of refreshments. — Jeremy Taylor.
First use of Gun-Powder in Mining. —Ti
is a curious fact, that although gun-powder
became generally known in Europe about
the year 1320, yet that its explosive power
should not have been used in mining till
upwards of a century afterwards. The first
instance that is recorded of the use of gun
powder in mining, is by the Spaniards under
Gonsalves de Cordova, who, in 149 G, be
sieged the French in the castle del Oco, at
the entrance of the bay of Naples, which
stood on a rock surrounded, by the sea, ex
cept a narrow isthmus, across which a deep
ditch had been cut in the solid rock. A
Spanish Captain named Pedro de Navarra,
took advantage of the cover afforded fui
sloops by an unflanked jutty of part of the
rock, to drive a gallery sufficiently forward
to reach under the castle, where a large
charge of powder was lodged, which lie fired
by a match prepared so as to hum till he got
to a sufficient distance for his own security.
The rock opened with a terrible explosion,
and hurled its fragments, together with the
walls and a great number of its defenders,
into the sea, in columns of flame and smoke;
the Spanish and Neapolitan sloops that were
in readiness landed their best troops, and
immediately overpowered the few surviv
ing French.
Lords and Painters. —Henry VIII could
say a good thing, and even a just one, when
he was in the humor for it. Holbein having
kicked a lord who insulted him, and the
apology ordered by the King not having
been deemed sufficient by the noble person,
Henry told him he must be content, and
gave him to understand that ho over-rated
himself, and undervalued his enemy: “ I can
make,” said lie, “seven lords of seven
ploughmen; hut it is beyond my power to
make a single Holbein.”
Sentiment. —There is sentiment in all
women, and sentiment gives delicacy to
thought and tact to manner. But sentiment
with men is generally acquired, an offspring
of the intellectual quality, not as with the
i other sex, of the moral.
Sir William Jones, speaking of the l>i
ble says : “ 1 have carefully aiid regularly
perused the Holy Scriptures, and am of
opinion that the volume contains more sub
limity, purer morality, more important his
tory, and finer strains of eloquence than can
be collected from all other books, in what
ever language they may have been written.
. IWIIB'IIBUUWH
©esoqonail.
Written for the “Southern Miscellany.’’
AN ADVENTURE.
It was a bright day in the latter part of
October, in the year 183—, that I set out in
company with two other persons from the
Hotel where we liad tarried the night before.
We breakfasted before leaving —and as wc
were prosecuting a journey through a thin
ly settled country where “accommodations
for man and beast” was not to he found
just when you would like it—our commis
sary for tlu: day had provided our lunch,
which ho had carefully deposited in the
outer fold of his saddlebags—(a depot, hy
the way, which liad been expressly set apart
for this very purpose.) Our way, for the
most part, led us through a hilly, barren
country —occasionally relieved, however,by
a delightful valley of fertile land—where
the squatter had already found a resting
place and a home. About noon, we alight
ed from our horses, in one of those valleys
be.-idea small clear stream, whose margin
furnished delightful grazing for our jaded
horses. The eldest of my companions,
who was the commissary for the day, re
questing us to he seated, and drawing forth
a bundle from liis saddlebags of very small
dimension, very gravely remarked—“ Well,
well, judging from the size and weight of
this parcel, I should say our snack would he
none of the heartiest. Now, to my mind,
there is nothing more provoking thantoliave
one’s appetite whetted up to the keenest
degree, and yet he without the means of
gratifying it. Now this (unrolling the bun
dle) is scarcely a priming—for one man with
an appetite—and here are three of us, judg
ing from myself, who are capable of mighty
deeds as trencher-men. Bless my soul, just
look at this” (said he, ns lie finished the job
of unrolling the bundle) “here is a nicer
morsel truly —two hunks of dry beef, a
piece of corn bread, and a couple of pota
toes. Well, hoys, here it is—you must do
the best you can with it.” V.\dl, friend
Dean, said I, you will certainly lose your
character for once. All the while during
our journey I have observed, a great pro
pensity in you, to take care of number one,
especially in all matters appertaining to eat
ing and sleeping. How happened it, then,
that to-day, you have so unfaithfully dis
charged your duty to yourself and to us, in
your capacity as commissary ? Why is it
—though the creature comforts aie no little,
there are not more of them ? “ The truth
is,” added our other companion, whose name
was Pritchett, “the old gentleman has ut
terly failed in the discharge of liis duty to
day, and 1 shall move that, as a punishment
for the offence, he be allowed to feed upon
liis negligence until supper—and in the
meantime, Parks and myself will just stay
our appetites until night with the sample of
a lunch which you have so bountifully pro
vided.”
“I second that motion,” I quickly said, at
the same time helping myself to one half of
the lunch, Pritchett taking the other.
“ Well, I declare that is not fair—to try a
man, find him guilty, and execute him, with
out giving him a chance to answer to the
charge. That’s what I call lynching a fellow
with a vengeance. But, see here, you arc
not certainly going to eat all that beef and
potatoes, and not give me any. I shall not
be able to stand it till night—never. I am
•xceedinglv sensitive upon the subject of
eating—now, if we had been provided with
nothing I could have done very well, but
mving the thing before qav eyes, and under
my nose, and almost in my grasp, and to see
you both munching away at it —1 tell you,
‘tis more tliau I can stand—l shall be think
ing about it the next 15 miles—and every
time 1 think of it.it will he with a sense of
emptiness and hunger really distressing.
Come, hoys, divide—l am punished enough
already—l plead guilty to the neglect—and
for the future, will make ample provision
for our roadside dinner.” We laughed at
his comic air—divided the spoil—rested an
hour, and set out about 2 in the evening on
our journey.
About four o’clock, we were overtaken hy
a countryman, of whom we enquired the
distance to the house for which we had set
out in the morning, where we expected to
stay during the night, and to our astonish
ment, learned that it was 15 miles further
on, and a most miserable road. To get
there that night was wholly impracticable.
What was to be done, what could we do?
The countryman informed us that hy going
four miles further, on the road we were then
travelling, and taking an Indian trail that led
oft’ to the left, and pursuing that two miles,
we should be able to reach a house of en
tertainment. “ What sort of a house is it,”
asked Dean, “and what kind of entertain
ment shall we find?” “All very good for
the country, I guess,” said our traveller, as
he spurred on his horse, and left us to pursue
our way at our own pace.
The sun was resting just above the hill
tops, as we came to the Indian trail, which
we had been directed to take. We found
the distance at least (> miles instead of 4
and now, fearing the balance of the way liad
been measured with the same sort of judg
ment —as that over which we had travelled,
we began to apprehend our true situation.
And as the idea of a lodging in the woods,
without food, or fire, or shelter, begun to
present itself to our minds, we quickened
our movements, and hurried on, as rapidly
as the unevenness of the way would per
mit. Pritchett, who had been loading the
way, (th trail was so narrow but one could
follow it at a time) now halted, and called us
up to consult. Our road forked, and we
knew not which to take; here was a dilem
ma for which we were not prepared. Dean’s
face had grown sensibly longer, ever since
we had left the main road; and it now wore
a most lugubrious aspect. After a short
parley, we decided on taking the right hand
trail, which in the end proved the right one,
for after pursuing it for a couple of miles,
over the toughest kind of a country, con
stantly intersected with smell streams, with
worn and deep channels, we at length halted
in front of an inclosure surrounding a dou
ble log-cabin, the proprietor was already in
the yard dealing out his hospitality, to a
gentleman, who had arrived a few minutes
before us. To our enquiry—“Can we stay
with you all night,” we received the friend
ly answer, that we could, which to travellers
weary and worn as we were, was truly a
cheering welcome. Having alighted, and
turned our horses over to the care ot
Pritchett, whose turn it now was to act as
ostler for the night, Dean and myself walk
ed into the house to reconnoitre. One thing
struck me plainly at the first glance, namely,
there was a great olenty of children, and a
great scarcity of every thing else. The
house, it is true, had two rooms and a pas
sage between, but one only was finished,
the one occupied by the family; the otln r
had only half a floor, and not a crack chink
ed in the sides, and no shutter to the door,
and for the life of me, I could not well see,
how wo should he able to make out for the
night. But I will not anticipate. Dean
being the eldest, and spokesman in general,
enquired of the lady it‘ we could have sup
per, and by way of hinting at our probable
capacity of appetite, told her that we had
eat scarcely any thing since breakfast, and
hardly any thing then. She satisfied him on
that score—telling us, we should have sup
per shortly—and offered us scats. We
drew a chair apiece to the fire, for it was
very cold, and patiently waited the prepar
ation for supper. Soon a bouncing girl of
about 16 came in—and began to make a
rigorous onset upon the cooking utensils;
first, she gathered an oven, and after giving
it a cold water rinsing, put it on the fire,
poured into it some water, and into that
some coflee, and set the whole to boiling.
Next, she stirred up an old hoe from the
ashes, swept it clean with a broom, and on
that patted out a cake of corn dough, and
put the whole on the fire. Next, she gath
ered up a frying pan, placed it on the fire—
and reaching down from a crack in the house
a hunk of beef, cut it up into squares and
triangles, and pieces that were neither
squares nor triangles, put all into the frying
pan, into which she placed about half a
pound of tallow, to grease it with, and-set
the matter cooking most beautifully.
It would have been a treat to any man to
have sat as I did, and watch the workings
of Dean’s mind, by the play of the facial
muscles; he was a great eater, and having
been put upon short allowance for the last
21 hours, lie had fondly hoped, this night, to
end his troubles, by relieving his appetite,
and during the evening we reached the
house, had given audible expression to his
delightful anticipations.
During the whole process of getting rea
dy to begin, lie had watched the girl’s every
motion; and as one article after the other,
was worked off, you might see the impres
sion upon his face. The oven of coffee,
certainly added an inch or more to its length,
hut it regained its former proportions, when
the hoe cake was fixed, (he was very fond
of a cake cooked on a hoe.) But when the
beef and tallow made their appearance, he
caved—his face hung—he brought a deep
sigh, and turning impatiently round in Lis
chair said, Parks, let’s go and see the horses.
When we reached the yard, he turned with
a most melancholy expression of counten
ance and said to me, “Well, I have lived
upwards of 40 years in this world, and
never yet have 1 seen just such a prepara
tion as that making in there, to feed white
folks on. I would not live in any such a
country. It’s nothing but beef for break
fast, and beef for dinner, and beef for sup
per, and beef to snack on. I have eaten so
much of it since I commenced this trip, that
I declare, I feel like I could bellow equal to
a praiiie bull.”
“Oh keep your temper, Dean,” said I,
“ we might do a great deal worse than that.
It is much better than lodging in the woods,
with nothing to eat. Besides, that is cer
tainly a fine looking girl, and you must ad
mit that she has the nack of cooking. Did
you observe the large quantity of lard with
which she greased our beef?”
Lard? ’Tvvas tallow as lam a living
man, and I would as soon eat a candle, or a
rawhide.” Pritchett coming up just then,
was made acquainted with our bill of fare,
for supper, and we again went into the
house. The young lady was dishing up the
beef when we walked in—and setting it
upon a table, without a cloth—and the bread
having been broken, and placed beside it,
we were invited to take seats at the table.
I sat opposite Dean. The coffee was serv
ed up in cups by dipping them in the oven
—and as there was neither sugar nor cream,
we were under the necessity of taking it in
its unvarnished state.
I could eat nothing myself, save the
bread. But I was utterly astonished to see
the voracity with which Dean dispatched his
meal. The coffee was drank with a relish
—the bread disappeared from his plate as
if by magic, and the beef—aye, the beef—
about which he had growled so much, and
fried in tallow too, added largely to the
amount of deposites, which he was making
in the Bank of the Interior. I never saw a
man go it with such a coming appetite, be
fore nor since—and if lie should see this
true history of that night’s adventure, I am
sure he will give me credit as a faithful
chronicler of the event. But the supper
was ended, and our pipes were smoked, and
Dean became very sleepy. Ho had been
looking round, and found out, that there
was only a single bed in one corner of the
unfinished room, and rightly judging that
we should have to sleep in that room, he
wisely determined to be the first to choose;
so, he became suddenly very sleepy.
The landlord told him he would sleep in
the other room. So getting a torch of pine
(candles there were none) he shewed him
the way to the bed.
An hour after, Pritchett and myself wish
ing to retire, we were shewn into the same
room. The night, as I have before remark
ed, was very cold. The apartment in which
we were to sleep had only a part of a floor,
no crack stopped, and no shutter to the
door. When we entered the door, Dean,
who was abed, rose up, protesting against
sleeping in that bed—“ Boys,” said he, and
his teeth chattered as bespoke, “do lot me
sleep with you on the floor.” I thought I
should have died with laughing. There he
wu<3, his face longer than ever—his little
grey eyes giving out an expression of great
dissatisfaction, liis head tied up in a yellow
handkerchief, and to crown the whole, a
long grey overcoat had been put on in the
place of nightgown, after his other garments
had been laid aside. There also, was the
landlord in the door, a huge pine torch in
his hand, locking as if he did not know
whether lie should laugh or be angry. —
There also spread out on the floor, was the
bed on which Pritchett and myself were to
lie— a child’s bed at that about 3by 5 feet—
and covered only by a check spread. “No,”
said Pritchett, in answer to Dean’s request
to sleep with us, “you have made your own
selection, and you must stand it if you
freeze. You shall not enjoy any of the
comforts of this bed.” “ Well, hut land
lord,” said he, “wont you let us sleep in the
other room by the fire —go ask your wife—
tell her we are civil people, and if I stay in
here I shall certainly freeze.” The negotia
tion was entered into and concluded, and
we were permitted to lie by the fire. I took
up one bed under my arm, and having made
it down before the fire, with my coat, and
the aid of an old pair of trowsers, the land
lord kindly lent me for the purpose, I was
enabled to make a pretty good pillow for
my head, and laying down, 1 drew my cloak
.over me, and went to sleep. I awoke
about 3 o’clock in the morning, and found
half a dozen cats snugly snoozing on my
legs, and a little negro, the only one the
landlord had, close by rny side. Not liking
my companions, as bed-fellows, I got up—
dressed myself-—struck a light, and survey
ed the scene around me. The room was
about 14 by 16. On each side of the door
was a bed—in one of which was the man
and his wife and youngest child—in the
other was two grown daughters, and two
younger ones—in front of the fire, was my
two companions, and the stranger, who ar
rived before us —the little negro, already
mentioned—two boys — mV six companions,
the cats —a large and small dog. Thus
making up the aggregate amount of lodgers
to he 14 men, women, and children, besides
8 cats and dogs—all within the space of 14
by 16 feet square.
Day dawned at length. One after the
other of the-sleepers arose around me, until
the whole were in motion. A breakfast,
the exact counterpart of the supper of the
night before, was served up to us—Dean
alone doing it ample justice—we paid our
hills, saddled our horses, hid our host fare
well, and sloped—and I have not been there
since. SAM PARKS.
SOUTHERN MISCELLANY.
MADISON, GEO f
tTueSiiuij, (2, ‘(§-42.
CC/ 5 ’ Our town subscribers will, after this
week, be furnished with their papers by a
Carrier.. Those who do not receive this
day’s paper will confer a favor by sending
to our office for them.
05 s * In answer to several inquiries we
state, that the “ Bantling,” although pub
lished at our office, is a separate and distinct
issue, having no connection whatever with
this paper.
TO THE PUBLIC.
To-day we issue the second number of
the “Miscellany;” and with it we tender
our thanks to those friends who have mani
fested an interest in our behalf by giving
their names as subscribers, and inducing
others to “do likewise.” We are directly
dependent upon the public. Many of out
friends have feared that the publication of a
neutral and miscellaneous paper would re
sult in a failure; and although many more
were of a different opinion, we have suffer
ed many an hour of painful solicitude in
view of our undertaking. But after due
advisement and deliberation our resolution
was taken, and our “little all” embarked in
the “Miscellany.” Feeling ourself thus
dependent, and encountering these doubts
and difficulties, the kindness shown by some
of our friends since the issue of our first
number lias been like “cool waters to a
thirsty soul.” It has encouiaged us to be
lieve that our confidence in the taste and
spirit of our community has not been mis
placed, and although the encouragement is
small, compared with what will he necessary
to render our paper such a repository of lit
erature and intelligence as at no distant day
we intend it shall he, we view it as an earn
est of “ good things in store.” We are, it is
true, personally and more particularly in
terested in the success of our experiment;
but the people of our town and county, and
our neighbors of adjoining counties, will
derive advantages which will amply reward
them for any exertions they may make in
our cause. We expect soon to obtain the
services of an editor, whose abilities will
give additional interest to our columns, and
we have talent enough in our county to give
us no indifferent standing abroad, provided
we could elicit it in the form of communica
tions. We intend in our selections, to fur
uish our readers with all the important in
telligence as it arrives, and which our facili
ties enable us to obtain at a vety early
period: and such articles upon the arts,
agriculture, science, trade, morality, and
other subjects of practical importance to
society, as will present a great amount of
valuable information in an attractive and
interesting form. Our extremely low price
places it in the power of every one who has
soul enough to feel an interest in the affairs
of the busy world, to put his name upon out
subscription list. We have said the public
were to be benefited by our enterprize, as
well as ourselves; —let such a paper as we
promise you ours will be (and we hope you
will take us at our word) go into every
family, and let the head of the family read
it and hand it to his children and encourage
them to do the same, an amount of informa
tion would be obtained, a desire for mutual
improvement would he awakened, and a
change wrought in the intellectual and moral
character of the community which no money
can value. We may be called enthusiastic
in the view we take of our enterprize, but
let any sensible man reflect upon the matter,
and if he does not agree with us we will
acknowledge our error.
Should it be urged against us that there
is too little desire for mental culture—too
little taste for literature among the people
to sustain our publication: we reply, nr do
not believe, it. “Love of money” is the
master passion of a majority, but many of
even these have liberality and public spirit
enough left to give the pittance necessary
• fora literary newspaper. And there is a
“remnant” who have not bowed the knee
to “Mammon” who will cordially second
our efforts. To those who say that northern
publications can he afforded so much cheap
er and better, that it is useless to attempt
competition; we reply—the north is fur in
advance of us in literature, science, and art,
and will increase the distance at which we
follow, until we do something for ourselves.
We have no desire to see an invidious spirit
between the north and south—nor are we
so sectional in our feelings or chimerical in
our opinions as to expect the establishment
of a literature peculiarly and distinctively
southern. We admire the north for her
cultivated mind, and social refinement. We
honor her for her labors in the cause of lit
erature. But we wish the south to hear a
part in these labors—to aid in her own intel
lectual elevation—to awaken her energies
—rouse her self-respect, and bring out the
resources of her genius. Are we never to
have among ourselves the means of mental
and moral improvement? Is our dependence
upon our sister States never to cease? Is it
right? Is it excusable? Is it consistent with
that high-toned honor of which we justly
boast?
The inferiority of our periodical literature,
should bring its friends to its support, and
not he adduced as an objection. If we de
spise the “day of small tilings,” no great
object can ever he attained. A proper use
of the means which we possess will ac
complish all we desire. Our instrumentali
ty in this work of literary reform will be
comparatively humble, but we feel a consci
entious devotion to our cause, and shall abide
by our determination and leave the conse
quences to the people.
We hope those whose sympathies are
with us, and who are capable of wielding
the quill, will aid us with tlieir contributions
to our columns. A communication on any
subject which is not sectarian in religion, or
of a party character in politics, or of an
immoral tendency in its spirit, will he cheer
fully accepted.
Our intelligent Planters are invited to
communicate with the public on the subject
ot Agriculture. The great importance of
this subject to every department of society,
will render any opiniot s or improvements
derived from experience eminently useful.
We know of individuals engaged in this
occupation in our immediate community,
who, by the use of their pens, might be of
essential advantage to their fellow-citizens.
We shall be pardoned for alluding particu
larly to a fellow-citizen, whose estimable
character and sound practical sense lias long
been highest valued by those who have
known him best; whose good taste is shown
by the elegant mansion in the suburbs of
our town, and the result of whose experi
ence in this important art, in the form of
essays, or in the communication of facts or
new discoveries, would be gladly welcomed
by the public.
AN APOLOGY.
Wc are averse to apologies of every kind;
but, notwithstanding, we feel called upon to
riake one for the mournful aspect of our first
md present numbers. The rule necessary
fir our paper was ordered from Charleston
sufficiently early for our first issue, and it
was not until our paper was entirely set up
that we received a. letter informing us that
none were to he had in that city. We have
since sent our order to New York, and con
fidently rely on receiving them, together
with our Vignette, &c., in time for our
fourth or fifth number: until then we shall
he under the necessity of begging the indul
gence of oursubscribers. Our present column
rules are wooden —something, perhaps, en
tirely new in the annals of newspaper print
ing.
(t/* Our town has been unusually lively
the past few days. The races over the
Madison Course commence to-day, and we
are informed that “luts of fun ” may be
expected by those who visit the track. The
number of strangers in town is already very
great.
“THE ORION.”
Wo lwvc received the first number —
volume I—of this beautiful work, from the
hands of its Editor, Mr. William Richards,
of Penfield, and shall speak of its merits in
a future number. It is embellished with a
view of Tallulah Falls,