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About Southern miscellany. (Madison, Ga.) 1842-1849 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 29, 1842)
king was discovered in this wretched con dition ; and not all the wisdom of his coun cillors, could devise any way of soothing his spirit’s madness. At length, roused to fresh love and pity to his misfortunes, Catherine lend her aid ; and with the first tones of her voice, Eric’s countenance softened into tranquility ; his eyes gradually lost their wild expression, and sinking down in ex haustion, he laid his wearied head on her shoulder, and soothed by herexpiessions of tenderness, soon fell into a profound slum ber. Chapter VIII. Happier, happier far than thou, ***** She that makes the humblest hearth Lovely but to one on earth ! Not many months after this event, Eric was made glad by the birth of a son ; a tie which (round him more closely than ever to his peasant wife. In his first hours of love’ and delight, he resolved to set aside all the pride of the nation, by an act, fraught with great danger to himself—namely, the coro nation of his beloved Catherine. When lie communicated his intentions, she shrunk from his proposal in undissembled fear and aversion. “ Renounce this dangerous pro ject,” she entreated, “ which would yield me no real pleasure, and must create for me so many enemies. Ido not desire to be proclaimed Queen; but in this private sphere will ever continue to love you, hum bly and devotedly.” Rut the enamoured monarch would not listen to her pleadings ; embracing her af fectionately, lie left the apartment to give orders for the announcement of the intend ed coronation, and to command that invita tions should be despatched to Prince John, who, at Catherine’s entreaty, had been set at liberty; as well as to all the nobles of the kingdom. This celebration was almost as splendid as that of his own accession to the throne ; but although his most influential subjects moved in the procession, yet no voice of applause or approval broke from the throng ing groups ; men whispered suspiciously to each otter, as they met; noble ladies look ed scornfully for the appearance of the pea sant-girl, who was about to become their Queen and mistress; and when Catherine advanced, attended by her regalia, and glit tering in gold and jewels, no one blest her as she passed, save the two councillors, who absolutely exulted in the success of their dark schemes. On reaching the church, where the arch bishop, Laurentios Petri, awaited their ar rival, the crown dropped from his hands, as he was about to place it on the Queen’s head; this omen was marked and comment ed on by the excited public ; and when Cath erine turned from the altar, there was such deep dejection visible in her pale and anxi ous face, that many among those who had once known and loved her, expressed their pity in open terms ; and, for herself, she al most longed to mingle amongst them once more, rather than return to the coldness and formality of her palace-life. Chapter IX. “Why all this tumult ? Treason, l>y the cross!” It may be readily imagined that the mo narch’s late act drew on him a fresh torrent of disgust and disapproval from his indig nant subjects. Malcontents every day went over to the side of his brother John, who, within his own cartles, was fostering and maturing a plan, which would result in Eric’s entire ruin. To prevent any disquiet from a foreign source, Prince John entered into a treaty of peace with Denmark, and engaged so much assistance from that quar ter, along with the aid readily afforded him by the numerous friends and relatives of the murdered Count Sturc, that in a few weeks he was ready to declare open war. Eric was still absorbed in his domestic happiness, and entirely inattentive to the affairs of his kingdom, when news reached him of Prince John’s treachery—of the taking of several of his most important cas tles, and the increasing progress of the rebel army. Distrustful of his troops, who were every day deserting him, he acted on the defensive; withdrew to his capital, left it to his general to stay the advance of the ad verse army, and even looked on in listless despair, as he saw them at length camping around the very walls of Stockholm. This, which wounded him still more, was the de- Sarture of his sister, who, wearied out by is many weaknesses, had at length gone over to join the party of her brother John. “And have you, too, determined to fur fake me I” exclaimed the suspicious king, as Catherine one morning followed him to the battlements, where he stood gazing in silent despondency on his brother’s growing troops. “My king! my husband !” exclaimed the devoted wife, with a look of reproach ful love, “ though heaven itself should aban don you, yet will Catherine remain faithful.” Suddenly, nerved at length by his Queen’s persuasions, the king roused himself to ac tion : but it was too late. The few remain ing nobles were not willing to venture their lives in such an unequal contest, and at their solicitation, the archbishop absolved them from the oath of fidelity which bound them to their King; and taking advantage of the license thus allot ded them, they opened the city gates on that very night to the rebel army. Eric was quietly employed in his morn ing devotions in the church, when a message arrived informing him of this new treache ry. Imprecations of hate and revenge reach ed his ear, us several Delecarian troops, headed by Prince John in person, immedi ately afterwards advanced up the aisle, and before the king was aware of their presence, he was surrounded by a strong guard, and declared prisoner of state. Chapter X. “ It’ I oulJ see him, it were well with me ! • • • Speak to me! This once—once more!” A few days after, and Prince John had entered into Stockholm, when his first acr was to enclose Eric in a close vault in the prison of Orebyhus. Watched over by men who regarded him with hate and suspicion; bound hands ami feet in irons ; and depriv ed of every means of employment—the young monarch soon sank into a gloomy and lethargic state. Iti those long days of weariness, he would sometimes accuse even Catherine of indifference, atid fancy that she, too, had yielded to the current which had set against him. It would have com forted him to know, with what earnestness she seized every opportunity for advancing his cause. In answer to Prince John’s of fer of one of the Swedish provinces, as an honorable retreat for herself and son, she replied that she desired nothing, save to share the gloomy prison where her husband was confined ; and after long months of promises and disappointments, she at length received the order admitting her to enter Eric’s prison. Clad in the peasant garb, which, she had resumed since the day of her husband’s dethronement, she took her infant son in her arms, and set off’ on foot, one wintry morning, to reach Orebyhus. After a jour ney of several days, through a country covered with snow, she reached the prison on the third evening, half dead with fatigue, but full of reviving hope as she handed the order to the jailor granting her admittance. Alas! a more speedy messenger had in the meanwhile arrived, with commands of far different import. Urged on by his in famous councillors, who suggested that Catherine is probably tbe bearer of some plan for his escape, Prince John despatched a warrant for his immediate death ; anil the only choice allowed Eric, was to determine instantly between stifling, bleeding to death, or poison ; and he had swallowed the latter only a few moments before his wife’s ap pearance. As he feebly folded a paper, which the attendants permitted him to write, in which he expressed his devoted love for his wife and child, and even besought the protection of his murderer-brother in their behalf, his arm was sudJenly arrested by a white hand —a plaintive voice murmured his name, in lovingjjaccents—and the weeping Catherine had scarcely folded her arms around his emaciated form, and whispered all the joy she felt in their re-union, then, yielding to the influence of the deadly potion, his fea tures became frightfully convulsed—his frame shook with maddening tortures —his blue eyes opened wildly on the pale and be wildered face that hung over his—and with the first feeble glance of recognition, lie sank quite dead on her faithful bosom. ■ ‘ll IIIMWBWBWMfWWBWBPBMWniIIiBIWWBMMI MO®©HL L /A M Y □ THE WIFE’S WELCOME TO IIER REFORMED Ut'SlliND. Air— Come rest in this bosom. Come back to lliis bosom, My heart’s chosen one ; Since Temp’rance has saved iliee, Thy wand’rings are done— Come back to the heart that Beat ever for thee ; I’ll rejoice in the hour that Restor’d thee to me ! They say Love was made for The Temp’rate and brave ; And thou must deserve it— No longer a slave. I know what thy fault was, And freely forgive, For they who forgive shall Forgiveness receive. I once was thy Angel, Ere Temp’rance came, Now since thou’st repented, I’ll still be the same ! I’ll stand by thee still, Though the world may now sneer, And guard thee, and aid thee, Till health re-appear! Stereotyping. —Every body has seen at the bottom of title papes the words “ stereo type edition,” but very few except “ the trade” are acquainted with the ingenious process. The first idea of casting in metal plates’ ‘emulated from one William Ged, a printer of Edinburgh, in 1725, and was so far successfully practised by him, that he was engaged by tbe University of Cam bridge to print bibles and prayer books; but by tbe jealousy and dishonesty of his workmen, in committing wilful errors, the process was considered defective, and the intention quickly abandoned. About fifty years afterwards it was received by Tilloch, and was subsequently adopted by the cele brated Didot of Paris, ami ultimately brought to perfection by the late Earl Stanhope. It must he understood, that stereotype plates are only adopted for standard works, and those likely to have a large sale, because the outlay is considerable, although the con veniences are very great, inasmuch as a re print can take place at any time, and any required number, however small, can be taken off’ with the greatest facility, and the expense of recomposition is thus saved.— We shall describe briefly thecasting of the plates. The pages of the type are tied up separately, and the letters being rubbed over with an oily composition to make the mould conic away freely. Gypsum (plaister of Paris) is then poured in a fluid state very carefully over them. This quickly setting, the mould is removed, and if the impres sion is perfect, the edges of tbe cast are dressed with a knife. The moulds are then baked in -an oven of settled temperature; and made by such means dry ami hard.— The mould is now placed in the casting-box upon what is called a floating plate , with its face downwards ; the cover of the casting box is then screwed down, suspended by a crane over the pit which contains the mol ten metal, gradually lowered into it, and kept steadily there by a lever and weight; the lid of the box being open at the corners, the hot metal rushes in, and the nice inter stices of the mould are filled up. It remains here about ten minutes, and is then swung into the cooling trough filled with water.— The mould is then beaten away by the wooden mallet from the plate now cast, the superfluous metal broken off; the back of the plate is afterwards made of a sufficient ; thickness by means of a lathe (the letters i standing from its face of a proper height,) 3 <0 ‘S 5* Ji ‘JZ It it U 3 A’ H IL IL A it the stereotype is carefully examined, any excrescence picked off', and the process is complete. The plates are a little longer (we mean by the margin,) than the pages of moveable types, and if kept with care will produce any numbei of impressions, equal to the ordinary type. Calomel. —The following extract is from the lectures of N. Chapman, M. D., Profes sor of the Institutes and Practice of Medi cine in the University of Pennsylvania, ‘o cated in Philadelphia. He thus discourseth on the use of calomel: “ Gentlemen—ls you could only see what I almost daily see in my private practice in this city, persons from the South in the very last stages of wretched existence, emaciated to a skeleton; with both tables of the skull almost completely perforated in many places —the nose half gone, with rotten jaws, ul cerated throats, breaths more pestiferous, more intolerable than poisonous upas, limbs racked with the pains of the inquisition, minds as imbecile as the puling babe, a grievous burden to themselves and a dis gusting spectacle to others, you would ex claim, as I have often done, O ! the lament able want of science that dictates the abuse of that noxious drug, calomel, in the South ern States ! Gentlemen, it is a disgraceful reproach to the profession of medicine ; it is quackery, horrid, unwarranted, murder ous quackery ! What merit do gentlemen of the South flatter themselves they possess, by being able to salivate a patient ? Can not the veriest fool in Christendom salivate, give calomel ? Rut I ask another question. Who is it that can stop the career of mercu ry, at will, after it lias taken the reigns in its own destructive and ungovernable hands ? He who, for an ordinary cause, resigns the fate of his patient to mercury, is a vile ene my to the sick; and, if lie is tolerably pop ular, will, in one successful season, have pav ed the way for the business of life; for lie has enough to do ever afterwards to stop the mercurial breach of the constitutions of his dilapidated patients. He lias thrown him self in fearful proximity to death, and has now to fight him at arm’s-length as long as the patient maintains a miserable existence.” Agricultural Anecdote. —A knowledge of the habits of animals is sometimes of great service even in the salvation of cities.— Jntnes, in his recent history of the Black Prince, gives an amusing instance of this in the defence of Rennes, a town of Brittany, beseiged by the Duke of Lancaster. In or der to effect the surrender of the place, the Duke enforced a strict blockade, which soon reduced the garrison to great straits ; but he knew they would hold out to the last extrem ity, and determined to try a trick of war.— For this purpose, lie drew off'his soldiers as if he had left the place, and formed an am buscade in some hushes behind the town. — He then caused a number of hogs to he turned loose in the plain, in the hope that the starving garrison would rush out for the prize. But they understood his trick, and turned it to their own advantage. They opened one of the sally ports, and hung up a sow by the lintel. She, of course, made a great out-cry, and the hogs came rushing up to the place from whence the noise proceed ed ; she was then cut down and driven thro’ one of the streets and forced to keep up her music. The soldiers sprang up from their ambuscade in order to try anu prevent this unlooked for termination of their experi ment; but James says, tbe hogs with that intuitive perception of tbe way their mas ters do not wish them to go, which has ever marked their nature, went rushing tumultu ously into the town, and afforded the garri son very seasonable relief. Cigarsforcver. —We were aware that a Regalia was a cloud dispcller—a solace to the weary hearted, hut we never imagined it could save a man’s life! The following parapraphs however, place “ the weed” one rung higher in the ladder of our estimation, and we mean to make a contract with the “ Little Divan” for a fresh supply. The Philadelphia Sentinel states, that as a M. Johnson, who had just returned ftom sea, was going home on Saturday evening last, he was assaulted by a man who de manded his money. M. J. being too old to be caught, pulled a large regalia cigat from his breast pocket, and making a noise with his mouth like the cocking of a pistol, the man wheeled about and took to bis heels. So in Havana, an American gentleman was stopped by another cigar-smoker at midnight and asked for a light. The 11a banero was long in igniting his principc, and inhaled his breath till the two cigar ends gleamed fiercely, while by the ruddy light, each surveyed the other’s countenance. — “ Pass on,” said the Habanero, “ your cigar has saved your life —you’re not the man I took you for.”— Crescent City. The following recipe may be new to most housekeepers. It is from an English paper. Pickled Eggs. —An industrious farmer’s wife, residing at Shipton, near Andover, among a variety ofother pickles which she annually introduces into herstore-room, pre serves pickled eggs. The process she uses in curing them is very simple. When she has a large stock of eggs on hand she boils some six or seven dozen till they become hard. She then divests them of the shell, and puts them into large jars pouring upon them scalding vinegar, saturated ginger, gar lic, whole pepper and alspice. This is an ad mirable aid to cold meat and is, in the win ter months, regarded as a perfect farm-huuse luxury. A Bore. — The Cincinnati Microscope tells the following good story ; “One of those gentry who procure subscribers to works in advance of their publication, called on a gentleman not long since living in Main street. After making bis business known, the gentleman not wishing the article, and not in tune to be bored, excused himself for a moment, as he had particular business to attend to. He went out and after three hours’ absence returned and found the fel low sitting just where he left him, and in j good order to introduce to his special notice, the beauties of his contemplated wot k. The ! gentleman fainted. Silence. —There are few things more con ducive to the health of the mind than occa sional solitude and silence. If the con science be unsullied, silence will be a season of enjoyment; if the recollection of crime weigh on the mind, in silence resolutions of amendment are more usually formed, than amid the tumult and confusion of the world. The man who habituates himself to spend an hour, every day, in silence and seclusion, can scarcely become depraved; he who never withdraws himself from the busy throng of selfish men can hardly be other wise. l'he army that is always marching cannot act with energy in case of emergen cy ; and the mind that never halts and repo ses from the labor of artificial excitement, will be but ill qualified to grapple with vio lent temptation. Silence is to the mind what the bottom of a river is to a swimmer; when lie can rest his feet upon the solid ground, he can look around him and see where he is. He can mark out his course, and start anew. To the religious man, si lence is in the throne of Deity. For when the world is shut out —when the passions are stilled, and the wandering thoughts are curbed, his soul is in the presence ofhis Ma ker. To tjiose who have never habituated themselves to silent reflection, these things may sound like a dull sermon on morality. Those who have tried the experiment will confess that the soul is the most truly alive, when the animal man is restrained, and the redundancy of animal thoughts is pruned. The stiller a clock stands, the better time it will keep ; and an hour-glass runs the faster, the less it is disturbed. A Mother. —The following fine passage, as true as it is beautiful, is from James’ nov el The Gypsey : “ Round the idea of one’s mother, the mind of man clings with a fond affection. It is the first thought stamped upon our infant heart, when yet soft and capable of receiving the most profound im pressions, and all the after feelings of the world are more or less light in comparison. I do not know that even in our old age we do not look hack to that feeling as the sweet est we have through life. Our passions and our wilfu!ness may lead us far from the ob ject of our filial love ; we may learn even to pain her heart, to oppose her wishes, to violate her commands; we may become wild, headstrong and angry at her counsels or opposition ; but when death has stilled her monitory voice, and nothing but calm memory remains to re-capitulate her good deeds, affection, like a flower beaten to the ground by a past storm, raises up her head and smiles amidst her tears. Round that idea, as vve have said, the mind clings with fond affection ; and even when the earlier period of our loss forces memory to be si lent, fancy takes tlie place of remembiance, and twines the image of our dead parent with a garland of graces, and beauties, and virtues, which we doubt not that she pos sessed. Names of the Days of the Week. —The remains of the religion ofthe ancient people of Great Britian are seen in the names of the days of the week. These people were Scandinavians, who carried into Britian, with their arms, their deities and their reli gious rites. The Anglo-Saxon superstition came from their progenitors, the Dains and Norwegians, and the mythology was once the established religion of Great Britain. The names of the week were called after deities of this northern worship. Sunday is the day of the sun ; Monday the day of the moon ; Tuesday, of Teucer, the god of hun ting and archcry; Wednesday, the day of Woden, the god of war ; Thursday, the day of Thor, the god of thunder; Friday, the day of Friga, the goddess of love and marriage; Saturday, the day of Satur, tliegod of fruits. American Pins. —The New York Tribune says that among the novel products of American skill and industry exhibited at the Fair of the American Institute, are Ameri can pins, made by the Howe Manufacturing Company, Birmingham, Connecticut. They are all the usual sizes, but differ from the imported pin mainly in this, that they are solid-headed—that is, the pin and head are one and indivisible. The pins are twice the stiffness of the English, and the point of exceeding fineness, owing to improvements in the method of manufacturing. They are of admirable quality and finish, and are afforded cheaper than pins ever have been before—[three hundred for five cents.] The establishment now turns out over one mil lion pins per day, and is prepared to supply promptly the whole Union. The duty on this article was raised from twenty to thirty per cent, by the new tariff, and made speci fic, and the company have since reduced the price of pins in the market five cents per pack. So much for protection to home in dustry. Lard Oil Business. —We incidentally noticed yesterday, says the Cincinnati Re publican of the 14th, a shipment of lard oil for New Orleans. We have since learned it was purchased here at Reeder’s manufac tory, and is intended for the Mexican mar ket. This cheap and excellent Cincinnati article is thus working its way on all parts of the globe. We have lately tried some of Mr. Reeder’s manufacture, and can bear testimony to its excellence. On inquiry, vve are glad to learn that all three of the lard oil manufactories in this city are full of business, and have as much as they can do to answer orders. They manufacture now, in the aggregate, upwnrds of 1,000 gallons per day, and give employ ment to some thirty hands, besides the in direct benefit to be derived by the cooper, tinman, &c. Since the passage of the Tar iff bill, Mr. Lee has received an order from one of the Northern woolen manufactories for 6,000 gallons, to be delivered in Boston, at the rate of 500 gallons per month. When we see worth clothed in poverty I respected and honored, and scoundrelism I clothed in scarlet and fine gold despised, | vve shall say the woi Id is honest. A great ; change must take place before vve make the impot taut announcement. Did you ever see a woman with black eyes ! who did not think sho was a beauty ? Singular Courtship. —ln the Ukrain, when a young woman falls in love with a man, she is not the least ashamed to go to his father’s house, and reveal her passion in the most tender and pathetic mariner, and to promise the most submissive obedience, if he will accept her for a wife. Should the insensible swain pretend any excuse, she tells him that she is resolved not to quit the house till he gives his consent; and ac cordingly, taking up her lodging, remains till in the end he either consents, however unwillingly, to be wooed, or betakes him self to flight. Aristocracy. —lt is related of General Foy, a distinguished French orator, that on one occasion, as he was entering with much fer vor into a political discussion in the Cham ber, and had just pronounced the word Ar istocracy, a voice from the Ministerial side asked him for a definition of it. “ Aristocra cy,” answered lie, at once and calmly, “ Aris toracy,\n the nineteenh century, is the league, coalition, of those who wish to consume without working, occupy all public places, without being competent fill them ; seize upon all honors without meriting them— that is Aristocracy.” Good. —A young lady in Memphis, Ten nessee, criticising gentlemen’s modes of dress and fashions, says, mustaches are nev er worn by men of ordinary sense. Fop pish fellows alone carry canes. Rings, chains and breast pins of gold, never yet cap tivated a woman of common intelect. Gen tlemen who exhibit on their hair evidence of much labor at the toilet, are not held in high estimation by the reflecting portion of the female sex.” That’s a sensible girl.— Wonder if she’ssingle, and under noengage ment?— Crescent City. Recovery of $15,000 worth of Lares. — Officers Releya and Colvin of New York, on Friday last, recovered possession, in that city, of several trunks filled with rich and costly laces, silks, gloves, hosiery, Sec., valued at from $15,000 to $20,000. The goods are supposed to have been stolen from New Orleans, or one of our southern cities. The goods contain private marks of the owner, and can therefore be identified. A true test. —Nothing, says a late writer, sets so wide a mark between a vulgar and noble soul as the reverential love of woman hood. A man who is always sneering at woman is generally a coarse profligate or a bigot.— Boston Post. The Croton Aqueduct. —The New York Tribune gives the length of the Aqueduct as 41 miles ; capacity of the Distributing Reservoir 21,000,000 gallons; capacity of the Receiving Reservoir 150,000,000, gal lons ; available capacity of the Croton Lake Reservoir 500,000,000 gallons. Dis charge in 24 hours 24,000,000 gallons; width of Aqueduct tube 7 feet 5 inches; depth 6 feet G inches, descent per mile 13J inches. Slander. —Against slander there is no de fence. Hell cannot boast so foul a fiend nor man deplore so fell a foe. It stabs with a word, writh a nod, with a shrug, with a look, with a smile. It is the pestilence walking in darkness, spreading contagion far and wide, which the most weary traveler cannot avoid. It is the heart-searching dagger of the assas sin. It is the poisoned arrow whose wound is incurable. It is as mortal as the sting of the deadly arrow : murder is its employment, innocence its prey, and ruin its sport. Elegant Extract. —“ How contemptible and yet how full of misery must be the life of him who lias not power to suspend his soul above tbe little storms which make the bodily life so full of insignificant wretched ness ! The true man suffers, with bis body, as other animals—but he enjoys with his mind. A flash of sun light; the green shad ow of sun set fields—the many colored smile ofthe melancholy autumn ; a sweet tone of childhood’s innocence ; the casual glance of friendship or affection ; is enough to unlock for him the treasures of the universe, and fill him with sweet and happy thoughts.”— A T . Y. Aurora. For the “Southern Miscellany.” LETTER FROM MAJOR JONES. NO. VII. Pined fie, October 25th, 1542. To Mr. Tiiomfson : Dear Sir —l ariv here all safe as a crate o’ warrented crockery last nite, bout this time. My cold’s got a good deal better sense I left Madisen, and cording topromis, I have tuck up my pen to give you a account of my trip to your town. As I told you, 1 left tny horse at Warrin ton and tuck the cars at Camack- for Madi sen. It was bout ’leven o’clock fore the dratted thing cum along, and when it got thar it made sich abominable blowin and snortin that I was morel) half a mind not to venter in no sich outlandish sort of convey ance. I’d heart) a grate deal bout steem in gins, but if a Semrnynoles is any uglier, or frightfuller, than they is, I dont wonder no body wants to tack ’em. Why sich other cog-weels, crunks and conflutcments, I nev er did see—and then tftey’s so spiteful, and makes the fire fly so. I couldn’t help feelin sort o’ skeered of it all the time, and I would n’t been that feller what rid on top of the cussed critter, anil fed and watered it, not for no considerashun. I was lookin round it a little, to try to git the hang of it, when the feller jest tctched one of the fixins, and feugh-h-h! it went rite in my ear and like to blmvd my branes out with hot steem.— “ My Lord !” says I, “ mister, what made it do that ?” “ Oh, it was jest blowin its nose,” says he, and he tuck hold of a noth er thins: and the infurnel critter set up a yell like a panther with a grind-stone on his tale. Thunderation, how the steem did fly ! enuff’ to blow all creashut) to Ballyhack. “ All aboard,” says the man, the bell tapped, and in bout aminitevery body was stowed away ar ,d waitin. Chung, went sumthin, and a way I goes rite over the back of the seat— it jerked once or twice more, and then it begin to go. Chow, chow, chow—chew chew, chew—che, cbe, chit-tu chit-tu-fit-te fit-te, fit, fit, fit, che)-r-r-r-r! and the whole bilin of us was gwine a long with a purfect whiz ; and the way the fire flew was mirac elus, grate, big sparks now and then dodgj n all round a feller’s face like a yaller-jacket and then drappin rite in his busum. F 0 r sum time it would tuck three men to watch the sparks off one. and they couldn’t. Well we went liummin along jest like iled thun der, makin more noise nor a dozen cotton gins all gwine at once, only stoppin now and then to pile on litewood and fill up the bilers and todiapa feller here and thar on the rode. They was the sleepyest set of fokes aboard I ever did see. Thar they was, all scattered about in the seats, heads and heels together; heie a pair o’ boots stickin rite strate upwards, and thar a feller’s face, open ed wide enuff to svvaller a cimblin—sum of ’em snotin like a dinner-horn. The effect was unresist able, and tbe first thing I knowd I didn’t know any thing in pertickler, cept that my eyes felt monstrous gritty when I tried to open ’em wide “ Look here • master—master!” “Hello!” savs I, “Ji m ’ what’s the matter?” “I isn’t Jim, master ” says the nigger feller what was shakin me by the coller ; “ you better go to the Hotel, the passengers is all gone long go.” I soon seed how it was, and not havin no baggage I tuck the road tbe feller pinted to, and went long down a hill whar I like to fell over lots o’ cotton bags, till I come to a place whar thar was more waggons than I could count in a hour. It was sodark I couldn’t make out nothin but waggons and a lot of fellers sit tin round a fire. 1 Links I, Madisen aint sich a ding grate city as I thought it was af ter all; and as I felt sort o’ chilly, I jined the fellers round the fire. “ Whars the hotel ?” says I. “ Thar aint no hotel here,” says one fel ler, what was singin, “ Drive my waggon long the rode ; Sorry team and a heavy load.” “ W on’t you take somethin ?” says he puttin a old junk bottle of rum, that smelled strong enuft of inions to knock a man down, rite under my nose fore I knowd what he was bout. “No, 1 thank you,” says I, “ I’s a Wash ingtonian.” “Who’s they?” says he; “sum of yer and n Flurnoy preachers, I spose?” ” No,” says I, “ thoy’s revolutioners.” “ Revolutioneis !” says he, “ why iny fa ther was a revolutioner, and fit agin the Brit ish at King’s Mounting, and help’d to lick tyranny out of the country.” “b> and all tyrants,” says I, “and hurra for the revolutioners.” “ Come, take sumthin,” says he, and pint ed the bottle at my nose again. “No,” says I, “I’m a revolutioner, and go agin King Alkohol tooth and toenail.” “ King who?” says he. “ King Rum,” says I ; “ that very tyrant that’s got you by the guzzle now, and lie’ll have you choked down on yer knees to him fore a half hour, if you dont revolutionize on him and quit him.” The feller stopped and looked rite down in the fire—then at me—then at the bottle, and he tuck a nolher look at the fire. “ That’s a fact,” says he, “ it’s had me on my back afore to-night; but 1 cant—yes I kin—here goes, mister—d—n all tyrants — I’m a revolutioner, a Washington revolution er, for ever!” and with that he tlirowd the bottle of rum smack in the middle of the fire, and it blazed up blue and yaller like a hell broth, as it is. “Give me yer hand, mister,” says I, “I dont want no better proof of yer manhood than that: stick to it like a true Washington revolutioner.” “ Stick to it, mister ?” says he; “ why I never broke my word when I was sober in my life, and now I must do it afore I kin git drunk. Stick to it? I’ve been wantin to revolutionize long ago, and now I’ve done it, and I’ll never knock under as long as I live !” and he shuck my hand, and a tear shined in the fire-light. I dont bleive that waggoner ’ll ever git stalled on a good rode as long as lie lives. Well, arter a while, fore it was clear light, 1 started for to find the town. “ Good mornin,” says one feller, comin out from mong the waggons with a quarsort of gimlet and sum tags of cotton in his hand. “ Would you like a bid for your cotton this mornin?” “ I don’t keer,” says I, “ I’m always wil lin for a good trade.” “ Whar is it ?” says he, and fore I had time to answer another feller slapped me on the shoulder on tother side, “Is it prime now, neighbor?” says he; “ I’ll give you the top o’ the market. Is it prime now, eh ?” “ Never mind,” says the first, “ it’s as good as sold.” “ Beg pardon,” says the other, “ I wont interrupt.” “ Whar is it ?” says the first, puttin his arm in mine, and walkin in mong the wag gons ; “ square or round bales, eh ?” “Stop, stop, mister,” says I, “you’re mis taken in the man ; you .” “ Oh, let’s have the sample, and we’ll talk bout the price ; is this it ?” and in goes his gimlet, “ I always sample from both end 9,” says he. “ But stop, mister,” says I, “ I han’t got no cotton here; my cotton ’s in Pineville, and aint moreu half ginned out yet. I han’t got no “ Whar ?” says he. “ Way down in Pineville, in .” “ D—n Pineville, and—beg pardon—tho’t you was in the markit,” and fore I could ax him bout Madisen or you, he was half a do zen waggons off', borein his gimlet in a noth er bag of cotton. The next feller I met was rite at me to buy my cotton; but 1 tuck him a side and splained things confidentally to him fore he went so fur ?” “Is this Madisen,” says I, “ whar the Southern Miscellany’s printed ?” “Oh, no,” says lie, “this is Beaver Tail.” “Beaver Tail!” says I; “why I never hearn o’ that place afore,” and I jest begin to bile up a little. “I tuck my passage for Madisen,” says I, “ and paid the munny, and they’re gone and drapped me in Beaver Tail! Now that’s a way to do bisness ; that's the way travellers is tuck in, by these corperashuus. If they dont fix it all to my
