Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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