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feeds her spirit with the memory of his
smile, or perhaps looks with fondness upon
the pledges of his affection as they stand
like olive branches around his tabic.
From the Youth’s Cabinet.
MANAGEMENT OF BOYS.
A clergyman of much observation
ly remarked, that the experience of ™xty
years had taught him, that if boys had a
faithful and judicious mother, they were
pretty sure to turn out well, whatever
might be the character of the father. There
afe mothers who, from various causes, in
rearing their sons, are deprived of the co
operation of their father. The following
hints are intended for the assistance of such
mothers:
1. Keep your boys by ail means out oj the
street. —At the proper times for play, allow
them to invite some of their neighbors’
children into your yard, or permit them to
visit those children of your friends with
whom you are willing they should associate.
But let it be an immutable law that they
are not to rove the streets in freedom, to
play with whatever companions chance may
throw in their way. By commencing early
• and firmly with this principle you will have
no difficulty in enforcing it. And it is a
safe guard against innumerable evils. Turn
a boy loose into the streets, to associate with
the vicious and the profane, to lounge at the
comers of stores, and he will almost cer
tainly be ruined. Therefore at all hazards,
keep them out of the streets.
2. Do not allow your sons to play out of
doors in the evening. —There is something in
the practice of night exposure and night
plays, which seems to harden the heart.
You never see such a boy possessed a gen
tle and modest deportment, he is always for
word, self-willed, unmanageable. There is
always temptation in the darkness of the
evening, to say and to do things which he
would not be willing to say and do in the
open blaze of day. The most judicious
parents will never allow their children to be
out at such hours; consequently, the only
companions he can bo with are the unmanag
ed and unmanageable. There is something
almost fiendlike in their shouts which are oc
casionally heard from such troops of boys
congregated at the corners of the streets.
If you would save your son from certain
ruin, let him not be with them. Keep him
at home in the evening, unless, by special
permission, he is at the house of some ju
dicious friend, where you know he will en
gage only in fireside sports.
3. Do tchat you can to keep your sons em
ployed.—Let play be but their occasional
privilege, and they will enjoy it more highly.
Employ fltem in the garden, if you have
one, as work, not as play. Give then daily
and regular duties about the house. It will
do them noharmto performbumble services.
It will help you, and help them still more, to
have them bring in the wood or the coal, to
scour the knives, to make the ir own beds, to
keep their own room in order. You may
thus render them highly useful, and contri
bute to their happiness and to their future
welfare. If you are sick it is still more im
portant you should train up your sons in these
habits of industry, for they stand peculiarly
in need of this moral and physical discipline.
Louis Philippe the present King of the
French, though the son of the proudest and
the richest noble of France, was in child
hood and early youth required to wait upon
himself in the performance of the humblest
offices. It was through this culture that he
was trained up to be one of the most re
markable men of the present age.
4. Takeaninterestin your children's enjoy
ment.—A pleasant word, an encouraging
smile, from a sympathizingmother rewards
an affectionate boy for many an hour of
weary work : and tho word and the smile
reach his heart, and make a more pliable,
gentle, mother loving boy. How often will
a boy with such a mother, work all the after
noon to build a play house, or a dove-cote,
cheered with the anticipated joy of showing
it to his mother when it is done. And when
ho takes her hand to lead her out and show
her the evidence of his mechanical skill,
how greatly can his young spirit be gratified
by a few words of encouragement and ap
probation. By sympathizing in the enjoy
ments of your children, by manifesting the
interest you feel in the innocent pleasures
they can find at home, you thus shield them
from countless temptations.
5. Encourage as much as possible the
fondness for reading. —Children’s books have
been, of late years so groatly multiplied,
that there is but little difficulty in forming,
in the mind of a child, a taste for reading.
When the taste is once formed, you will be
saved all further trouble.* Your son will
soon explore the libraries of all his associ
ates and he will find calm, and silent and
improving amusement for many rainy days
and long evenings. And you may have ma
ny an hour of your own evening solitude en
livened by his reading. The cultivation of
this habit is of such immense importance,
and is so beneficial in its results, not only
upon the child, but upon the quietude and
harmony of the whole family, that it is well
worth while to make special efforts to awak
en a foudness for books. Select some books
of decidedly entertaining character, and en
courage him for a time to read aloud to you,
and you will very soon find his interest rivet
ed; and by a little attention, avoiding as much
as possible irksome constraint, you may
soon fix the habit permanently.
The great difficulty with most parents, is
that they are unwilling to devote time to
their children. But there are no duties in
life more imperious than the careful culture
of the minds and hearts of tho immortals
entrusted to our care; There are no duties
which weean neglect atsuch an awfulhazard.
A good son is an inestimable treasure : lan
guage cannot speak his worth. A bad son
is about the heaviest calamity that can be
endured on earth. Let the parent, then, find
time to “ train up the child in the way he
should go.”
•Mothers have some trouble in these days of “ many
books,” to keep their children from stuflfiing their minds
with trash, or something worse.—Ed. Cab.
The sparkle of a gratified wife's eye will
go further than u ton of anthracite—it
warms the heart.
The Temperance Pledge. —A pamphlet
containing the proceedings of the Congres
sional Total Abstinence Society at the meet
ing held in the Hall of the House of Repre
sentatives, February 25, 1842, has been late
ly published, containing several very able
speeches, worthy of the perusal of every
cilizen of our Republic. The following is
the concluiion of the eloquent speech of
Hon. T. F. Marshall, of Kentucky ;
Sir, if there be within this Hall an indivi
dual man who thinks that his vast dignity
and importance would be lowered, the lau
rels which lie lias heretofore won be tarnish
ed, his glowing and allconquering populari
ty at home be lessened, by an act -designed
to redeem any portion of his colleagues or
fellow-men from ruin and shame, all I can
say is, that he and I put a very different es
timate upon the matter. I should say, sir,
that the act was not only the more benevo
lent, but in the present state of opinion, the
most politic, the most popular, (looking
down at Mr. Wise, who sat just under the
Clerk’s stand, Mr. M. added with a smile,)
the very Wisest thing he ever did in his life.
Think not, sir, (said Mr. TvL, still regarding
Mr. Wise with great earnestness,) think not
that I feel myself in a very ridiculous situa
tion, and, like the fox in the wish to
divide it with others by converting deformi
ty into fashion. Not so; by my honor as a
gentleman, not so. I was not what I was
represented to be. I had, and I have shown
that I had, full power over myself. But the
pledge I have taken, renders me secure for
ever from a fate inevitably following habits
like mine—a fate more terrible than death.
That pledge—though confined to myself a
lono, and with reference to its only effect
upon me, my mind, my heart, my body—l
would not exchange for all the earth holds
of brightest and of best. No, no, sir; let
the banner of this temperance cause go for
ward or backward—let the world be res
cued from its degrading and ruinous bon
dage to alcohol or not —I for one shall nev
er, never repent what I have done. I have
often said this, and I feel it every moment of
my existence, waking or sleeping.
Sir, I would not e.xchange the physical
sensation^—the mere sense of animal being
which belongs to man who totally refrains
from all that can intoxicate bis brain or de
range his nervous structure—the elasticity
with which he bounds from l.is couch in the
morning—the sweet repose it yields him at
night—the feeling with which he drinks in
through his clear eyes the beauties and the
grandeur of surrounding nature; I say, sir,
I would not exchange my conscious being,
as a strictly temperance man—the sense of
renovated youth—the glad play with which
my pulses now beat healthful music—the
bounding vivacity with which the life blood
courses its exulting way through every fibre
of my frame—the communion high which
my healthful ear and eye now hold with all
the gorgeous universe of God—the splen
dors of the morning, the softness of the even
ing sky—the bloom, the beauty, the verdure
of earth, the music of the air and the wa
ters—with all the grand associations of ex
ternal nature, re-opened to tho fine avenues
of sense; no, sir, though poverty dogged
me—though scorn pointed its slow finger at
me as I passed— though want of destitution,
and every element of earthly misery, save
only crime, met my eye walking fiom day
to day; not for tho brightest and noblest
wreath that ever encircled a statesman’s
brow— not, if some angel commissioned by
heaven, or some demon rather sent ftesh
from hell, to test the resisting strength of
virtuous resolution, should tempt me back,
with all the wealth and all the honors which
a world can bestow; not for all that time
and all that earth can give, would I cast from
me tliis precious pledge of a liberated mind,
this tailsman against temptation, and plunge
again into the dangers and terrors which once
beset my path ; So help me Heaven, sir,
as I would spurn beneath my very feet all
tho gifts the universe could offer, and live
and die as I am, poor but sober.
Compliments to American Talent. —The
Boston Daily Advertiser states that Major
Whistler, tho Chief Engineer of the Wes
tern Rail Road, has been invited to Russia
by the Emperor Nicholas 1., to superintend
the construction of an extensive Rail Road
in “that country. Major Whistler ranks as
one of the first Civil Engineers itt this coun
try, and the request is a flattering compli
ment to his abilities and to the American
people. American steam engines have been
ordered in numbers for thatEmpiie, in pre
ference to those made in England, and it is
not long since that the Emperor presented
Mr. Norris, the well known manufacturer of
them, a diamond ring of the value of 6,000
dollars. American rail road iron is also
preferred to home-made in several parts of
Europe, and now Russia has capped the cli
max by soliciting the services of Major
Whistler, for which a very large remunera
tion has been offered.
We find, also, by the papers, that Louis
Philippe has commissioned Mr. Healy, a
young, but highly promising American artist,
who has for some time been residing in Pa
ris, to visit America for the purpose of tak
ing a copy of Stewart’s portrait of Wash
ington, to be placed in the Royal collection
of paintings.
Why, our transatlantic ftionds will really
begin to tliinlc bye and bye that we do know
something besides making wooden nutmegs
and stump speeches.— Georgian.
A Boot Sub-Treasurer. —Some time be
fore the Schoolmaster had gone abroad
through the glens and braes of Scotland,
and before Preston and others bad publish
ed their systems of double-entry book-keep
ing, an old Treasurer of the town of Ster
ling, in Sherlingshire, in Scotland, knowing
but little of either writing or arithmetic, con
trived a simple method of keeping his fi
nancial accounts. On each side of the chim
ney he hung up an old boot; in the one on
the right hand, he put in all the money he
received, and in the one on the left, all the
receipts for money paid out. Whenever he
wished to balance his accounts, he counted
up the contents of each boot, and by setting
the one off against the other, was enabled
to square his accounts. — Georgian.
“ Please exchange,” as the printer said
when he offered his heart to a beautiful girl.
8 Q) U V 111 a .R SI U IB IL IL A it
©rmokiaiij
Written for the “ Southern iiscellany.”
A SOLILOQUY.
“Make money — honestly, if ybu can—but
make money.”
My plans arc rijiening fast: my plat is well
And wisely chosen ; and nothin? now remains
To do, but wait time’s slow and silent steps
To bring them to a full development.
It matters not how it is done so I
But gain my ends ! My enls once gained, the world
May wag its head, virtue nay raise her voice,
And conscience ply her laili: yet, with the fruits-
The precious golden fruits which I shall reap—
When patient toil is past, ind laboi’s o’er,
And all my deep laid schemes shall fully take—
I’ll purchase up the coot-will of the world;
I’ll compromise with Conscience; and Virtue—
Naughty jade—shall be an easy victim
To my well told gold.
But yet I must be mute:
’Till I hove snugly all within my grasp,
My dark designs keep close, and over all
Must throw the specious vail of Honesty j
Which always with the world will take,
And pass as current coin —and pass, until
Upon the mount of all my hopes I stand
And look upon mv riches nobly won !
No matter then what my past life has been;
We are but dupes of others, and he who best
Secures his ends —no matter what the means
Employed, so gold is gained—is sure to win
The unction of ‘he world’s rich praise, and revel
In its smiles. ’Tis very true, the work is hard,
And labor sore ; and oft obtrusive thoughts,
And visions troublesome, will rise, and throw
The dark and shadowy pall of death o’er all
The gilded scene which hope so often paints
On Time's rent canvass. But yet, to me it seems
The part of prudence well to secure
The present good, and, while we live, enjoy.
And who indeed would wish to beg and toil,
And labor at the oar of life, unpaid —
And pass along the beaten track of Time,
“Unknown, unhonored, and unsung?” And men
Will say, though honest, yet was poor indeed.
To me this compliment, if so it may
Be term'd, seems scurvy praise: such praise, I trust,
So long as life shall last, I’ll never win !
But deeper still I’ll speculate; and out
Upon the sea of chance I’ll push my bark,
And trust to fortune, and a rising tide,
To bring me safely back. And when a few
More trades are made, and other thousands gained,
I'll lay my laror by. At once shall cease
My speculations all! My thoughts I’ll turn
To other themes more fruitful of content,
And riot on the spoils so bravely won !
B. C. H.
Written for the “ Southern Miscellany.”
AN INDIAN ALARM.
The city of Columbus was once the scene
of stirring adventure. It was in the latter
part of January, 1836, that the whole com
munity was thrown into consternation and
alarm, on nccount of the sudden breaking
out of the Indians, who lined the borders of
the Chattahoochee river, upon the Alabama
side. A large party of savages, armed and
painted, were said to have crossed the river
about twenty miles below the city, with hos
tile intent. The Major General, command
ing the Division in which Columbus was
situated, despatched a messenger to the spot,
to ascertain the movement of the Indians,
and discover their object. He went —col-
lected a few of the settlers in the neighbor
hood, to the number of twenty-five or thirty,
and stationed them in an old cabin near the
ferry at which the Indians had crossed, and
waited their arrival. Nor did they wait
very long. For soon a party came in sight,
and passing the house, approached the river.
The General’s messenger, who headed the
crowd, was for fight, and sallied out at the
head of part of It men, and cut away at
the redskins in good earnest. Os course
they in self-defence returned the fire, and a
short fight ensued. The General’s messen
ger and his party came off second best—
one being killed, and one or more wound
ed.
It was the evening of the same day, about
sundown, when the citizens of Columbus,
at the beating of the drum, repaired to
Head-quarters, and there heard the report
of the whole transaction, from the mouth of
the General’s messenger himself, who at
tested the truth of all he 6aid by presenting
himself for inspection—exhibiting several
bullet holes his coat and trowsers had receiv
ed- during the battle. This was enough to
spread the alarm already increasing, to its
utmost extent. It now began to take hold
of those who were before incredulous—and
many a stout heart began to dread the con
sequences which must shortly ensue.
But as I did not set out to write a regular
Story, or give a detailed history of the Creek
war, but only to relate a single incident
connected with the repeated alarms experi
enced o’uring that eventful period, I will
proceed at once to my purpose—stating,
however, that however great the reason may
have been, that the people (especially the
women) should be alarmed, that still there
were many mischevious persons, who took
great delight in adding to and improving
upon every report which was circulated —
and this was practiced to such an extent,
that those who were really scared, became
so completely under the unfluence of fear,
that the firing of a gun, the beating of the
drum, or the whooping of a mischevious
boy, at night, would alarm them to such a
degree, as is almost incredible.
Well, it was during the height of this ex
citement, when tile incident I am about to
relate occurred. Ruring the day, many and
curious were the reports that were put afloat.
One went on to say, that on that night, a
party of Uchees and AVitchetees, under the
notorious Jim Henry,intended crossing the
bridge and setting fli c toriie town. Another
was, that a very large paty, under the con
trol of old Neomathla, the river
a few miles below town, ani were conceal
ed in the Upatoi swamp, the ap-
E roach of night, to fall upon the wbr.es, and
urn and butcher and destroy without mer
cy. These, together with variois others,
went to make up the news of the tay. The
officers in command were busy miking their
arrangements, runners were to b? seen go
ing all over the city—groups of nen, with
apprehension and alarm depietd in their
countenances, were engaged in con
versation, grouped about the cofer of the
streets. As thisix poun
der belonging to m city, was rcled down
to the bridge, well charged with hlls, slugs,
&c., and planted so as to rake fte bridge
from stem to stem—here was posted a
strong force. Various other arrangements
for defence were well as could be
done under the circumstances. The place
of rendezvous for the night, was the city
Hotel, near the Centre of the town, and
there in strong force were gathered the citi
zens, the militia, and the guards. As night
came on, the rain, which had been threaten
ing all day, began to fall in torrents, and
continued to do so during the greater part
of the night.
About sun down, a man came dashing in
from the country, and up to the Hotel, with
the fearful report, that an hour before, sev
eral rifles had been fired near bis dwelling,
in the direction of a neighbor’s house, and
that the shrieks of the dying were plainly
heard. He had no doubt the whole family
were butchered, and ho had come to bring
the mournful tidings—leaving his own wife
and children in the meantime to fight it out
with the Indians as they best could. A par
ty of eight, well mounted and armed, put
off to the scene of murder without delay.
Their way led them along by M ’s brick
yard, which skirted a very large swamp in
the rear of the city. The brick-yafd was
about one mile from the City Hotel, the place
of rendezvous.
Now M , though a large and strong
man, was not unmoved by the various ru
mors that had been so widely circulated that
day, and living, as he did, below the city,
and on the borders of the swamp—and on
the very road too, that old Neomathla must
approach (if he came at all) the city —he
concluded after supper he would reconoitre
the premises, and keep a sharp look out, so
that he might not be caught napping. So,
with this object in view, he loaded his old
shot gun, put on his hat—and notwithstand
ing the rain, out he went, and took his sta
tion hard by the swamp. He had been
there but a short time, v/hen he thought he
heard something. He listened attentively.
Again he caught the same sound, but indis
tinctly heard. “Good gracious,” he exclaim
ed, “that is the Indian war-whoop—they
are coming, sure enough.” He listened
again—and again a distinct and prolonged
note was heard above the pattering sound of
the falling rain. He could not be mistaken.
The sound came from beyond the swamp—
and it was repeated, again and again—and
he even heard an answer to the call down
the swamp, and up the swamp —and along
the road too, he could hear the suppressed
sound of voices, as if engaged in stealthy
conversation. It was a plain case, and no
mistake; and he made for the rendezvous,
forgetting that he had any body to care for
but himself. I shall never forget his appear
ance as he entered the door of the City Ho
tel. The bar-room was crowded, and I,
with others under arms, was waiting my
turn to go on guard. He came rushing in
out of breath, wet as water could make him,
and muddy as an unwashed hog—having
ran through mud and water in the dark for
a mile. In a moment a crowd was around
him, and he relating his adventure—stating
unequivocally that the Indians were a-com
ing. He had hardly finished, when a wo
man, clad in a single garment —a nameless
one, and one rarely seen by the public eye
—all dripping with wet and dabbled in mud,
came shrieking into the room, where an
hundred men were gathered. All rushed
at once to hear her story. A cloak was
thrown over her, and she told her tale. It
was the wife of M , the man who had
just been telling his story. She had gone
to bed, and hearing some whooping had
become alarmed, and calling for her hus
band, who did not answer, (he had run first)
she cut out for town, forgetting her own
nakedness, in her extreme alarm, leaving
her children to take care of themselves. Just
then the party who had gone out to see
about the murder in the country, returned,
reporting the whole matter a false alarm—
and when they heard M ’s tale, explain
ed the whole, by telling us that as they went
by his brick-yard they overtook a negro in
an ox cart singing a corn song for his own
amusement, which was the war-wlioop poor
M had heard, causing him to run, leav
ing wife and children behind him.
JOSHUA SWIPES.
Yamacraw, May 25,1842.
Mr. Editor —l have taken some pains to
get together a few Proverbs, and send them
for publication in your “ Miscellany,” in such
numbers and at such times, as will suit your
inclination. They are not original with me
by any means, (being taken from an old
volume in my possession,) as your intelligent
readers will readily perceive; but will, no
doubt, be new to most of them. It is my in
tention to continue them (if acceptable to
yourself and readers) as my leisure will per
mit—hence my desire to have them num
bered.
Respectfully, &c.
A BOOK-WORM.
Rohobothville, Morgan County.
PROVERBS.
1 What’e bred in the bone will never come out of
the flesh.
It has been well observed, that Jialit. be
comes a second nature. And this, with the
proverb quoted above, by showing us the
difficulty of overcoming evil habits, may do
something towards checking them in the be
ginning. How solemn is the inference of
the prophet! “Can the Ethiopian change
his skin, or the leopard his spots ? then may
ye also do good that is accustomed to do
evil.”—Jerem. xiii. 23. As the bough of a
tree bent from its usual course returns to its
old position as soon as the force by which it
had yielded is removed ; so do men return
to their old habits as soon as the motives,
whether of interest or fear, which had influ
enced them, are done away. “Nature,”
says Lord Bacon, “is often hidden, some
times overcome, seldom extinguished. Let
not a man trust his victory over his nature
too far; for nature will lie buried a great
time, and yet revive upon the occasion or
temptation; like as it was with vEsop’s dam
sel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat
very demurely at the board’s end till a
mouse ran before her.” The same philoso
pher gives the following admirable caution
—“ A man’s naturo runs either to herbs or
weeds; therefore let him seasonably water
the one, and destroy the other.”
2. Better half a loaf than no bread.
This is a self-evident, but not less Useful
truth. The following, however, which con
veys much the same meaning, is more ob
scure, and furnishes some amusement in the
act of understanding it; he that has but one
eye sees the bitter for it. The next is
similar:
3. A man were better be half blinjj than have both
eyes out.
And the experience of many has proved,
that
4. A bad bush is better than the open field.
“ That is,” says Ray, “ it's better to have
any, though a bad friend or relation, (one
that can do little or nothing for us,} than to
be quite destitute and exposed to the wide
world.”
5. Small mmw must bo fed.
Which Ray thus explains: “Children
must be fed; they cannot be maintained with
nothing. It may teach proper economy for
the sake of a family either in existence, or
expected.”
6. Better lose a jest than a friend.
Wit is always misplaced, and often inju
rious when uttered at the expense of an
other’s feelings. It is a misfortune to some
persons to possess a quick sense of the fa
cetious, and a talent at repartee. We would,
therefore, under the form of a proverb, ap
peal to their judgment and humanity, in
which they are frequently not deficient, to
check the light or unkind remark ere it rises
to the lips. The Arabian maxim pithily
says, “ Let not your tongue cut your throat.”
If the happy conceit must be formed, it will
be a good discipline of the mind to crush it
and make it subside within; or to treat it as
we have been told to serve a cucumber—
namely, to give it pepper, and salt, and acid,
and then to throw it out of the window; that
is, rather to lose a jest than a friend; for he
who makes others afraid of his wit, had
need to be afraid of their memories.
7. An idle brain is the devil's workshop.
We need not enlarge much on this ex
pressive sentence. It is clear that all have
something given them to do. Youth ought
to be employed in qualifying themselves for
the service of their country, or their friends,
or for earning their future maintainance;
and not only so, but idleness in a person, is
inconsistent with the Christian character,
exposing him to many temptations to do
evil. There is an old saying, the idle are
seldom virtuous; and Idleness is the parent of
beggary; and Bishop Sanderson observes,
“ Idle gentlemen and idle beggars are the
very pests of the State.”
8. Every Bean hath its black.
Where on earth can we meet with an en
tirely perfect character! Socrates being
asked, who was the wisest man 1 answered,
he that offends least.
It is a good horse that never stumbles. —
And he, who has no cause for self-reproof,
is indeed an admirable being,
“A faultless monster that the world ne’er saw.”
Let the proverb remind us, (for wo havo
higher and inspired teaching to the same
effect,) to be humble, to take heed as to our
selves, and to be cautious and tender in cen
suring the conduct of a neighbor. Lay your
hand often upon your own heart, and you will
not speak ill of others.
9. Beauty is a blossom.
A wholesome memento to the beautiful
and vain. But let not this proverb, and the
following, which is like it, give a false plea
sure to the plain and envious.
10. Beauty is but skin deep—
For it is often deeper: the ornament of
a meek and quiet sj>irit, proving, in such a
case, the consent of body and mind. And
we have, in an ancient classic writer,
“ Virtue is fairer in a form that’s fair.”
Asa sad contrast to this is a French say
ing-
-11. Fie upon youth and beauty not set off with hu
mility.
And the remark of the chief of satirists,
who, however, wrote in the worst times of
imperial Rome, is—
“ For rarely do we meet in one combined,
A beauteous body and a virtuous mind.”
By way of illustration, we will give an
old fable. “ There was a plantation of trees
that were ell fair and well-grown, except
one dwarf among them, knotty and crooked,
which the rest had in derision. The master
of the wood wanted tojbuild a house, and or
dered his men to cut down out of that grove
every stick that they found fit for service.
They did so, and the poor despised little
tree was alone spared from the axe.”
12. ’Tis better the dog be your friend than your foe.
This is a Dutch saying. It has much of
policy and worldly wisdom in it. And the
author of a grey cap for a green head, in fol
lowing it up thus advises us: “Injure no
man: the meanest person may, once in seven
years, have an opportunity of doing you
much good or harm. Though we have a
thousand friends, we may lack more, but one
enemy is too much.” Let the proverb,
however, be read in an enlarged and Chris
tian sense, and in the charitable spirit of the
Apostle’s exhortation: “If it be possible, as
much as within you, live peaceably with all
men.”—Rom. xii. 18.
Communicated.
The wheal is growing,
The chickens are crowing—
Aunt Tamer’s wide awake,
Baking a ginger cake,
And making a chicken pic,
To send to Mr. W ***** *,
Who is all sorts of a critic—
For the trouble he took
To review her “ book,”
In the last Miscellany.
J. BROWN, Poet, Finchback.
Liberty of conscience. —Experience teach
es that the sword, the fagot, exile and pro
scription, are better calculated to irritate
than to heal a disease, which, having its
source in the mind, cannot be relieved by
remedies that act only on the body. The
most efficacious means are sound doctrines
and repeated instructions, which make a
ready impression, when inculcated with
mildness. Every thing bows to the sover
eign authority of the laws—but religion
alone is not to be commanded.
©©untlhom MfisaoMaumy,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING AT
TIIE VERY LOW PRICE OF TWO DOLLARS
AND FIFTY CENTS PER ANNUM ONE DOL
LAR AND FIFTY CENTS FOR SIX MONTHS—
IN ADVANCE.
MADISON, GEO:
Saturday, May 38,1843*
TRAVELLING AGENT WANTED.
A person competent to the task is wanted
to travel through this and the adjoining
Counties, to solicit and receipt for subscrip
tions to the “ Southern Miscellany.” We
feel confident our subscription list can bo
greatly increased in this manner, and satis
factorily pay the person employed for that
purpose. He must he industriously inclin
ed, and of good moral character.
TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Our fair friend “ A. E. C.” neglected to send a solu
tion with her Enigma.
“ Sincerity” may be in earnest, but we doubt it.
We shall be glad to hear again, and often, from “ B. C.
II.” His Soliloquy in this number is truly poetic.
“ E. D.’s” Enigma is on file.
“ Tuskenuggee” is inadmissible. We love not his
TRIBE.
OURSELF.
We feel no disposition to beg favors of
the community which they are reluctant to
bestow; and were we not sure that there
existed a general feeling of satisfaction with
our paper, and a desire to see us successful,
we might hesitate in making appeals to the
public for support; but we are confident
that the value of a newspaper, having in
view the diffusion of practical knowledge
and the elevation of the taste and morals of
society, is, in a good degree, appreciated.
But the “hard times”—and hard times in
deed they are—have kept our subscription
list thus far exceedingly meager. We have
heard many express a desire to become sub
scribers, and we have no doubt there are
many others we have not seen, who would
like to give us their names, but are prevent
ed by the expense. We would charge none
with a want of public spirit, but it appears
to us that the trifling sum required for sub
scription destroys very much the force of
the objection, and brings it within the means
of every citizen, to place his name upon our
list. Those who take no paper could not
possibly expend the same amount to greater
personal advantage than for a weekly pub
lication of the character of ours; and we
recommend our own, not from any fancied
superiority to others, but because it is a
home publication, and conducted in the midst
of our community, and—if we may be al
lowed the remark—it deserves to he sup
ported. Those in our own aud adjoining
counties, who “take so many papers” that
they “can’t take any more at present,” will,
we think, on reflection, see the propriety
and importance of sustaining a publication
nearer home, and feel willing to aid us by
forwarding the pittance required by our
terms. We have said, that no effort on our
part should be spared to make the “Miscel
lany” a credit to our county and State; and
for the short time we have been in opera
tion, we think we have redeemed our pro
mise. The new dress in which we made
our bow to the public last week proves our
sincerity, and what we said then, so we now
repeat, that in neatnes and elegance of ap
pearance we challenge competition with any
of our cotemporaries. We would remind
our friends that these improvements are not
made without money, and unless it is re
funded by subscribers, we shall have labor
ed worse than in vain. We would also
again suggest, that while our subscription
list is fearfully small, our daily expenses are
very great. We say again, we are the last
to beg of an unwilling public. They have s
stake in our experiment as well as “ourself,”
which if they are willing to lose, down we
must go. Our undertaking is one by which
we expect to “sink or swim,” and if we
“sink,” we shall have the consolation of
having failed in a good cause, and in the act
of doing our duty to “ourself” and OW
fellow men. We hope no one will take
these remarks as an indication of a timid or
faltering spirit; for be it known to all “to
whom these presents shall come,” that we
shall publish the “Southern Miscellany” so
long as a “shot remains in the locker,” or
“ a plank remains in the ship.” Or to speak
more prosaically and dispassionately— we
shall publish it so long as we can raise ft
dollar to procure the necessary labor and
material; and with this avowa.’i of our de
termination we leave “ourself” again, with
our friends.
We are disposed to be generoft*, rather
than otherwise, and having a strong desire
to place our paper in the hands of all classes,
we make the following proposition, which
we hope will be acceded to. by all who are
destitute of the means wherewith to pay sos
a paper, viz:
Any person, at the head of a family, re