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volume ii. | & iFamUa Jlftosqpiuper : Ecfcotctr to mterature, Eartcultuve, J&eefiaulcs, Saturation, jForriflu ant 3Domeetic J-nteUifience, scc. j NUMBER 22.
M C. R. HANLEITER.
IP © £ f K Y .
For the “Southern Miscellany.”
MY MARY'S GRAVE.
IT TALCT.AB.
‘There stands in yonder leafy grove
An oak full old and brave,
Whose houghs wave, aad and slow, above
The spot of earth that most I love.
And shade nty Mary’s grave.
There is a Mocking-bird that sings
Upon that old oak tree,
And while ho spreads his light, grey wings,
The little grove around him rings
With sweetest melody.
And as, at early dawn, I hear
His voice, on zephyrs driven,
Methinksit tells, in accents clear,
That Mary, who was sleeping there,
Has passed away to Heaven!
Savannah, August 16,1843.
r a—cts— —mmmwtmmmm
TTAtLIE©,
From the Washington Capitol.
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
BT HORATIO KIN’S.
“Honor and shams from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.”
” Say what you will, Mrs. Lincoln, my
daughter shall never marry a mechanic—
that point is settled beyond question. What
right has a mechanic to seek her hand 1 —
She moves, now, in the first society ; and I
intend she shall never unite herself in mar
riage with any one who is not her equal, at
least, in rank.”
“ Well, they do sav,” replied Mrs. Lin
coln, ” that George Hamlden has actually
offered himself to her, or is on the point of
doing-n; and if such be the fact, and my
advice were asked in the matter, I should
say, let Mary accept him by all means ; she
can never do better, and may do much worse.
As to your remark about rank, if you intend
to intimate that bis rank is not equal to that
of your daughter, I must lie allowed, frank
ly, to differ from you. True, George is a
mechanic; but I have yet to learn that a
well educated and accomplished young man, j
like him, is any tire less a gentleman ; orthe j
less entitled to be considered as of the * first
society,’ for lieing a mechanic.”
“ Oh, now, you needu’t talk so to me,”
said Mrs. Otis; ** you’ll Hever make me be
lieve a mechanic is a gentleman, in the true
acceptation of the word. There may be
some who are tolerably educated, and know
how to appearquiterespectably when thrown
into company ; but there is something to my
mind, so vulgar in the idea of a mechanic,
that I can never consent to any arrangement
which would tend to introduce them into
the first society. Last of all, shall any one,
with my permission, ever salute me as his
mother-in-law. Pshaw ! Mts. Lincoln, the
tiling is preposterous.”
“ It doubtless appears so to you, Mrs. Otis;
but your views,on this subject,are all wrong.
You cannot have examined it in its true
light, and reflected properly upon it. Pray,
whom do you consider as the only persons i
who should compose what you cab tiie ‘first i
society ?’ ” I
“ Why, professional men, of urg *_ SU ck j
ns lawyers, doctors, „ wetl I
nnd othe| ,nen ° - piea s ' re - iv * merchants, j
, v . who a tie living upon their mon- j
•*’ without any particular employment. 1 j
do mot wish to be understood as saying that j
mechanics, farmers, and the like, are not res
pectable in their places, Mrs. Lincoln ; all i
■ask is that they move in their proper sphere
and not intrude themselves where they do
not belong.”
Yes, 1 understand : you prefer, as an
associate for yourself and daughter, the pol
ished gentleman of leisure,’ to an honest, in
telligent and industrious mechanic. And
who are many of these gentlemen of leisure,
who are admitted into, and caressed by, your
-first society V Bankrupts in property, mor
al principle, and every thing else, except
brass and bristles; creatures, who would
pass currently for puppies every where,
/except the ’first society’) though but for
*heir loquacity, some might be taken for
goats in breeches, or ourang-outangs trom
*be asiatic islands ] Against your lawyeis,
doctors and divines, I have nothing to say:
jn your own language I respect them all in
their places.’ But as distinct classes in so
ciety, neither is a whit better, or more res
pectable, than the hatdy mechanics and yeo
manry of our country generally. If there
be any distinction, the producing classes are
certainly entitled to the highest considera
tion.” , ,
“ Well, Mrs. Lincoln, if you don t beat
all! Why your doctrine, carried out, would
destroy all distinctions in society. Only
think of a fashionable assembly, composed
of gentlemen of the different learned profess
ions, farmers, mechanics, merchants, trad
ers, speculators, gamblers, and what not,
each and all with their female associates,
congregated on terms of perfect equality!
Wouldn’t it present a beautiful picture f
11 But you are a little too fast, replied
Mrs. Lincoln; “ l am not the advocate of
any such equality as that, by any means.—
On the contrary, I wish to see what passes
for the ’ first society’ among us, purged ot
•its impurities, and the worthy mechanic as
sume the vank he deserves in the world. I
7|rot})d have the frown of the virtuous and
good forever fixed upon the unprincipled
and dissolute, whatever their occupation in
j life. External accomplishments, either with
i or without wealth, should never serve as a
passport to a polluted heart into the bosom
of respectable society. While honest in
dustry should ever he regarded with the
smile of commendation, its antagonist, indo
lence, should find no favor whatever.”
“ Well, it is all folly to talk to me. My
mind is made up. Mary is not going to
have George Hamblen, nor any other me
chanic. She shall live and die an old maid
first.”
“ \ ery well; it is no particular concern
of mine, said Mrs. Lincoln ; “ but wc shall
soon see whether Mary is herself disposed
to regard his advances with favor. Indeed,
I have already seen enough to satisfy me
that George has nothing to fear, so far as
she isToticerned. It is not hmg since I
chanced to observe litem very closely engag
ed in conversation by themselves. * It was
on the occasion of Mary’s late visit to her
aunt s. Leaning, with clasped hands upon
his atm, she was looking up into his face
with an earnestness of expression that at
once convinced me of her devotedness to
him. But here she comes ; let us hear what
she has to say for herself.”
Mary had now just returned from a short
walk. Well knowing the prejudice of her
mother against mechanics, she resolutely in
sisted that Mrs. Lincoln must have mistaken
her cousin Lorenzo for Mr. Hamblen, as the
person with whom she was promenading
while at her aunt’s.
At this moment the door-bell rang, and a
gentleman was immediately conducted into
the room, whom Maty recognized and in
troduced as Mr. Williams, a young- physi
cian from a neighboring village. Mary had
met him at a recent party ; and he had call
ed, in passing, just to present Ids compli
ments to her, and see that she suffered no
inconvenience from her exposure to the
damp air on the night of the party.
His age was about twenty two—his stat
ure a little above the medium height—com
plexion light—eyes and tiose prominent—
and his expression altogether agreeable.
After a half-hour of pleasant conversation,
he took Ids leave, not, however, without re
ceiving and accepting a very pressing invita
tion from Mrs. Otis, in which her daughter,
of course, modestly joined, to call again.
He had no sooner left the house than Mrs.
Otis embraced the occasion to draw’ a lively
comparison between him, as of one of the
learned professions, and mechanics. With
an air of self-satisfaction, she said—
” Show me your mechanic, Mrs. Lincoln,
who is able to convince like Dr. Williams.
Did you not observe the variety and extent
of his knowledge, his happy faculty of com
munication and |iolisli of manners. Talk
not to me of your mechanics I In point of
every thing pleasant and agreeable—nay,
even valuable, in a gentleman, I will place
Dr. Williams, little as I have Been of him,
against any dozen mechanics you can pro
duce.
Mrs. Lincoln not disposed to continue the
controversy further, ar.d ever willing to ac
knowledge merit wherever she sa w it, very
cheerfully concurred in tire favorable opin
ion expressed Dr. Williams—adding,
however, that there were many mechanics
fully equal to him in extent of knowledge,
readiness of communication, and polish of
address.
It is proper, to remark here, that Augus
tus Otis, Esquire, the husband of lady Otis,
was a gentleman of great good sense, and a
lawyer of distinguished ability. Himself
the son of a worthy mechanic, be was never
heard to speak of mechanics in any other
than terms of the greatest respect. More
over, had he been present, there is little risk
in saying Mrs. Lincoln would have found
him heartily concurring with her in support
of her cause.
Dr. Williams soon became intimate at the
house of Mr. Otis, who with his lady, spared
no pains to make his visits agreeable to bim.
It was also quite apparent that Mary contrib
uted her part toward the same end, with the
most perfect cheerfulness and good will.
As the writer is not at liberty to disclose
further what transpired in the innocent and
friendly intercourse between Mary and the
accomplished young doctor, at this point,
“ Where thought meets thought, ore from the lips it
start,
And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart,”—
leaving this part of the picture to the imagi
nation of the reader—we come directly to
the fact that, all parties joyfully assenting,
the harts were duly published, and the day
of marriage agreed on.
Mary never looked more beautiful than
on the morning of her marriage day—a
bright morning in May—
“ Heaven was in her eye,
In every gesture dignity and love.”
At the appointed hour, the bride and bride
groom—Mary Otis and young Williams, at
tended by her cousin Lorenzo and a young
female associate—stepped into n carriage,
in readiness at the door, and hastened to
wait upon the minister of the parish, resid
ing at the village, about eight miles distant.
In the meantime a small party of friends,
Mrs. Lincoln among the rest, assembled at
the house of Mr. Otis to ofler their congrat
ulation to the happy couple on their return,
and tender the usual civilities of all such joy
ous occasions.
The minister soon performed his part of
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 26, 1843.
the ceremony, when husband Bnd wife, with
their attendants immediately returned and
were met at the door by Mrs. Lincoln, who
had volunteered formally to introduce the
newly married couple to those in waiting
to greet them.
Conducting them at once into the pres
ence of the company, assembled in the draw
ing-room—
“ Allow me, ladies and gentlemen,” said
Mrs. Lincoln, “to intiodnre you to Doctor
Williams,better known ns Mi*GeorgeHam
hlen, the mechanic—editor, printer and pub
lisher of the “ Village Chronicle”—and his
lady, hitherto the accomplished Miss Otis.”
All eyes w ere fixed on Mrs. Otis, who
stood half amazed, in doubt whether to cred
it what she had just heard as the sober re
ality ; or whether rfi occasion had been
seized on by Mrs. Lincoln to play off an in
nocent hoax at her expense. She was soon,
however, convinced that the gentleman,
now her son-in-law, whom she had known
and so highly esteemed as A Doctor Wil
liams,” was, indeed, none other than plain
Mr. Hamblen, the mechanic.
Collecting herself, and resolving to make
the best of the somew hat avykwmd position
in which she found herself placed—
” I perceive,” said she, taking by the band
and addressing Mr. Hamblen, “ that 1 have,
though I trust not with your approbation,
been deceived, both in your name and occu
pation. Be it so. Had I regrets to ex
press, this is no place for them—it is now
too late. With mechanics, I had associated
the idea of ignorance and want of gentle
manly accomplishments. Hence my unfa
vorable opinion of them as a class. But in
you I observed no deficiency of education ;
I liked your apparent sincerity; I was pleas
ed with your deportment—yea, more, I en
tertained the most entire confidence ir. your
honesty and purity of your moral principles.
Why. then, should I hesitate? The little
deception which, I am well aware, has been
practised at the instance of her who is now
your wife-—borne on by friends, not except
ing her own father, in whom she confided—
is of slight moment. Only lei there be nrt
further deception—as I am sure none is in
tended—and I can most cheerfully forgive
and forget what has passed. Take my
daughter; it is your choice—it is hers.
“ To you, my daughter, now just entering
upon new and important relations in life, in
the laengua oe of another, let me advise you
that the good wife is one who is strictly and
conscientiously virtuous; she is humble nnd
movies t from reason and conviction, submis
sive from choice, and obedient front inclina
tion. What she acquires by love, site pre
serves by prudence. She makes it bet de
light to please her husband, being confident
that every tiling that promotes his happiness
must, iti tire end, contribute to her own.—
She ad ways rejoices in his prosperity, and
by he r tenderness and good humor, lessens
his cares and afflictions. Go—and may
Heav en bless you both.”
Yo ung Hamblen, as may W’ell be suppos
ed, w as not free from embarrassment on this
occat -ion. Addressing Mrs. Otis—
“ You are correct,” said lie, “ in the opin
ion'that I yielded, with great reluctance, to
the little artifice which has been employed.
I fin ally assented only on the strongest as
surance, from those whom I knew to be
your best friends that I should be held blame
less; in the matter. If I have sailed into port
under false colors, it was not from my own
inclination, but in obedience to a command
ing signal from the very prize I have cap
tured.”
Capitol Hill, D. C.
| “IFMYHUSBAND WERE TODOSO.”
A DOMESTIC INCIDENT.
“ Poor woman ! What a thousand pities
it is for her !” and Mrs. G rimes, with feel
ing—“ I wonder how she stands it. If my
husband were to act so, it would kill me.”
“ I never could stand it in the world,” ad
ded Mrs. Pitts. “Itis a dreadful situation
for a woman to be placed in. Mr. Larkins
used to he otie of the best of men, took the
best possible care of his family. For years
there was not a happier woman in town
than his wife. But now it makes one’s
heart ache to look at her. Oh ! it must be
one of the most heart-breaking things in the
world to have a drunken husband.”
” Well, all I’ve got to say,” spoke up Mrs.
Peters, with warmth, “ is, that 1 don’t pity
her much.”
“ Why, Mrs. Peters! How can you talk
so?”
“ Well, I don’t ! Any woman who will
live with a drunken husband, don’t deserve
pity. Why don’t she leave him ?”
That is easier said than done, Mrs. Pe
ters.”
“ I should think it a great deal easier than
to live with a drunken brute, and have her
life tormented out of her. If my husband
were to do so, I reckon him and 1 would
part before twenty-four hours.”
. Now Mrs. Peters’ husband was a most
excellent man, and a sober man, withal.—
And his wife was tenderly attached to him.
In regard to his ever becoming a drunkard,
she had as little fear as of his running off
and leaving her. Still, when she- made her
last remark, she looked towards him, for he
was present, with a stern and significant ex
pression on her countenance. This was not
really meant for him, but for the imaginary
individual she had supposed as bearing the
relation towards her of a drunken husband.
” You would ! would you 1” Mr. Peters,
replied to the warmly expressed resolution
uttered by his wife :
“Yes, that I would!” half laughingly and
half seriously retorted Mrs. Peters.
“ You don’t know w hat you are talking
about,” spoke up Mrs. Grimes.
“Indeed, then, I do ! I consider arty wo
man a fool who will live with a drunken
husband. For my part, I have not a spark
of sympathy for the wives of drunkards—l
mean those who live with the men who beg
gar and abuse them. Mere disgusting
brutes —the very sight of whom ought to
turn a decent woman’s stomach.
After a while the subject was dropped,
and at the close of the social evening, rite
friends separated and went to their own
homes.
It was, perhaps, about two months from
the period at which this conversation occur
red, that Mr. Peters left his home early in
the evening to attend a political meeting—
politics at the time tunning high, and hard
eider flowing freely as water. He was in
the habit of attending such meetings, and
of partaking of his portion of the cider, and
at times of something a little stronger ; hut
as he was a sober man anti a man, too, of
strong good sense and fiirn ptinciples, the
thought of his ever partaking too freely ne
ver crossed the mind of his wife :
Regular in his habits, he was rarely out
after ten o’clock, on any occasion. But this
time ten came, and eleven, but lie was still
sway. This was a circumstance so unusual
that his wife could not help feeling a degree
of uneasiness. She went to the door, lis
tened for him after the clock had struck
eleven, nnd stood there for some time, ex
pecting every moment to hear the sound of
his footsteps in the distance. Blit she wait
ed in vain, anti at last re-entered the house
with a troubled feeling.
At last the clock struck twelve, and al
most at the same time, she heatd her hus
band at the door endeavoring to open it with
his dead-latch key. In this he was not suc
cessful from some cause, etui thinking that
she might have turned the key, Mrs. Peters
went quietly and opened the door for him.
She found that she had not locked if.
As site lifted the latch, the door was
thrown suddenly against her, and her hus
band came staggering in. As he passed
her, he struck against the wall of the pas
sage—rebounded—struck the other side,
and then fell heavily on the floor.
The dreadful truth instantly flashed upon
her. He was drunk. For a moment her
heart censed to heat, her head reeled, and
she had to lean against the wall to keep
from falling. Then all the tender emo
tions of her heart rushed freely into activi
ty. It was her own husband who lay be
fore her. by the master-spirit of strong drink.
With almost super-human strength, she
raised hint up, although a large man, and
supported him with her arm until she got
him up stairs, and laid upon a bed. By this
time he seemed perfectly stupid ; and only
mumbled incoherent replies to the frequent
ar.d tenderly urged importunities of his
wife.
After some time she got him undressed
and in bed. But he grew more and more
stupid every moment.
“ O, what if he should die !” the poor
wife moaned anxiously, wide the tears that
had at first gushed out still continued to
flow freely, fcihe then got camphor and
chafed his temples with it. She also wash
ed his fat e with cold water, and tried vari
ous means to mouse him from the lethargy
of drunkenness. But ali to no purpose.
At last, despairing of success site lay
down beside him,still in tears,threw her arm
around his neck and laid her face tenderly
against hits. She had lain thus for about
five minutes, when her husband called her
name in a whisper.
Oh, how eagerly she did listen after her
response to his call.
“Jf my husband were to do sol” As he
said this, still in a whisper, but a vety ex
pressive one, he looked her steadily in the
face with a roguish twinkle of the eyes, and
a quivering of his lips, the muscle of which
he could with difficulty restrain from wreath
ing those expressive organs into a merry
smile.
Mrs. Peters understood the whole scene
in a moment, and boxed her husband’s ears
soundly on the spot, sot very joy, while he
laughed until his sides ached as bad as his
ears.
In all discussions upon the various unfor
tunate relations of man and wife, Mrs. Pe
ters was very careful how she declared her
course of action, were she placed in similar
circumstances. If, in any case she was led
unthinkingly to do so, the remark of her
husband with a peculiar inflection of the
voice—
"Oh, yes! If my husband were to do so”
had the happiest effect imaginable, and in
stantly put an end to the unprofitable dis
cussion.
Marriage. —l look upon a man’s attach
ment to a woman who deserves it, as the
greatest possible safeguard to him in his
dealings with the world; It keeps him
from all those small vices which unfettered
youth thinks little of, but which certainly,
though slowly, undermine the foundations
of better things, till in the end, the whole
fabric of right and wrong gives way under
the assults of temptation.
INCIDENT OF THE REVOLUTION.
In the summer of 1779, during one of the
darkest periods f ourrevolutibnary struggle,
in the then small village of g——, (which
now bears amoredigiiifiedtitle,)in this State,
lived John V. one of the finest and truest
patriots within the limits of the “ Old Thir
teen,” and deep in the confidence of Wash
ington. Like most rtien of his time and
substance, he had furnished himself with
arms and ammunition sufficient for the
males of his household. They consisted of
himself, three sons, and about twenty-five
negroes. The female part of his family
consisted of his wife nnd daughter Catha
rine, about eighteen years of age, the hero
ine of our tale, and several slaves. In the
second story of his dwelling house, imme
diately over the front door, was a small
room called the “armory,” in which the
arms were deposited, and always kept rea
dy for immediate use. About the time at
w hich we intioduce our story, the neighbor
hood was much annoyed by the nocturnal
prowling and depredations of numerous
Tories.
It waenn a calm, bright Sabbath afternoon
of the said summer, when Judge V, and
his family, with the exception of his daugh
ter Catharine, and an old indisposed slave,
were attending service in a village church.
Not a breath disturbed the serenity of the
atmosphere—no sound profaned the sacred
ness of the day ; the times were dangerous,
and Catharine had locked heiself and the
old slave in the house, until the return of
the family from church. A rap was heard
at the front tftior. “ Surely,” said Catha
rine to the slave, “ the family have not come
home ; church cannot he dismissed.” The
rap was repeated. “ I see what it is,” said
Catharine, as she ran up stairs into the ar
mory. On opening the window and look
ing down, she saw six men standing at the
front door and on the opposite side of the
street, three of whom were Tories, who for
merly resided in that village; their names
were Van Zamir, Finley and Sheldon ; the
other three were strangers, but she had rea
son to believe them of the same political
stump from the company in w hich she found
them.
Van Zandt was a notorious rharacter and
the number and enoimity of his crimes had
rendered his name infamous in that vicini
ty. Not a murder or robbery was commit
ted within miles of S . that he did not
get the credit either of planning or execu
ting. The characters of Finley and Shel
don w'ere also deeply stained with crime,
hut Van Zandt was a master spirit of ini
quity- The appearance of such circum
stances must have been truly alarming to a
young lady of Catharine’s age, if not to any
lady young or old. But Catharine V. pos
sessed her father’s spirit—the spirit of the
times. Van Zandt wns standing on the
step, rapping at the door, while his compan
ions were talking in a whisper on the side
walk on the opposite side of the street.
“Is Judge V. at home?” asked Van
Zandt, when ho saw Catharine at the win
dow above.
“ He is not,” said 6he.
“We have business of pressing impor
tance with him, and if you will open the
door,” said Van Zandt, “we will walk in
nnd remain till he returns.”
“ No,” said Catharine, 44 when he went to
church, he left particular direction not to
have the doors opened till he and his family,
returned. You had better call when the
church is dismissed.”
“ No,” retorted the villain, “ wo will en
ter now or never.”
“ Impossible,” cried she; “you cannot
enter until he returns.
“Open the door,” cried he, “or wo’ll
break it down and hum you ond the house
up together.” So saying, he threw himself
with all the force he possessed against the
door, at the 68me time calling upon his com
panions to assist him. The door, however,
resisted his efforts.
“ Do not attempt that again,” said Catha
rine, “or yon are a dead man ;” at the same
time presenting fiom the window a heavy
horseman’s pistol, ready cocked.
At the sight of this formidable weapon,
the companions of Van Zandt, who had
crossed the street at his call, retreated.
“ What,” cried their leader, “ you cow
ards, are you frightened at the threat of a
girl ?” And Hgain he threw himself against
the door ; the weapen was discharged and
Van Zandt fell.
The report was heard at the Church, and
males and females at once rushed out to as
certain the cause. On looking towards the
residence of Judge V. they perceived five men
running at full speed, to whom the Judge’s
negroes and several others gave chase, and
from ar. upper window of his residence, a
white handkerchief was waving as if beck
oning for aid.
All rushed towards the place, ond upon
their arrival. Van Zandt was in the agonies
of death. He still retained strength to ac
knowledge that they had frequently been
concealed in the neighborhood for that pur
pose, but no opportunity had offered until
that day, when, lying concealed in the woods
they had seen the Judge and his family go
ing to church.
The body of the dead Tory was taken up
and buried by the Sexton of the Church, as
he had no relations in that vicinity.
After the absence of two hours or there
abouts, the negroes returned, having suc
ceeded in capturing Finley, and one of the
WM. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
strangers, who were that night confined, and
the next morning, at the earnest solicitation
of Judge V. liberated on promise of mend’
ing their lives.
It was in the month of October, of the
same year that Catharine V. was sitting by
an upper back window of her father’s house
knitting; though autumn, the weather WM
mik), and the window hoisted about three
inches. About sixty or seventy feet from
the rear of the house was the bam, a huge
edifice with upper and lower doors ; the
lower doors were closed, and accidentally
casting her eyes towards the barn, she saw
a small back door on a range with the front
door and window at which she was sitting,
open, and a number of men enteT.
The occurrence of the summer immedi
ately presented itself to her, and the fact
that her father and the other males of the
family were at work in a field some dis
tance from the house, led her to suspect that
’.he opportunity had been improved, proba
bly by some of Van Zandt’s friends to plun
der and revenge his death. Concealing her*
self, therefore, behind the curtains, she
watched their movements. She saw at
man’s head slowly rising above the door,
and apparently reconnoitering the premises
—it was Finley’s. Their object was now
evident. Going to the “ armory,” she se
lected a well loaded musket and resumed
her place by the widow. Kneeling upon
the floor, she laid the muzzle of the w eapon
upon the window sill between the curtains,
and taking deliberate aim, she fired.— What
effect she produced abe knew not, but saw
several men hurrying out of the barn by
the same dqpr they entered. The report
again brought her father and hit workmen
to the house, and on going into the barn,
the dead bdy of Finley lay upon the floor.
Catharine afterwards married a captain o t
the Continental army, and sbe still lives the
mother of a numerous and respectable line
of descendants. The house is also in the
land of the living and has been the scene of
many a prank of the writer of this tale in
the heyday of his mischievous boyhood.
LAPQga* [DIEIPAOTSMIgIKnr
. From the Youth's Companion.
WIIAT ENOAGES MOST OF A YOUNG LADY! AT
TENTION ?
We have received the following commu
nication through the mail upbraiding ua
with a fault, which in future we shall endea
vor to amend.
“ Does the Editor of the Youth's Com
panion intend to devote the whole of bis
paper to the gentlemen, when the ladies so
richly deserve his attention ? We have
read the first two numbers with some inter
est, it is true, but were sadly disappointed
in the enJ ; when we found so little that
would apply to ourselves. Now the Edi
tor knows well enough what occupies most
of a Young Lady’s mind now-a-days, and
we expect him forthwith to advise two of
the handsomest on the important subject.”
Our reply tothese fair correspondents may
be more in the language of a parent than
would be agreeable to them. Truth is of
ten greatly obscured by the manner in which
it is expressed, and in the same way, even
faction is made to assume a fair appearance.
We must confess, then, that we do not
“ know what occupies most of a young In
dy’s attention, now-a-days,” and are of opin
ion that it would take a wiser man than wo
profess to be, to determine that point, Wo
shall, however, make several shrewd guess
es at the “ important subject,” and give our
advice on all as we pass.
1. Is it Pride I If so, banish it immedi
ately from your bosoms ; for it is perhapa
the most dangerous companion you could
choose. It gives you a higher opinion of
yourselves than you are apt todeserve, and,
at the same time, depi ives you of the esteem
of others. In its stead, clothe yourselves
in the garments of humility, and you will
soon he delighted at the exchange. Re
member that pride has filled a world with
misery, and that humility has opened the
way to salvation.
2. Is it novel reading ? Then lay by
your romances, and get rid of the silly, idle
nations with which they have filled your
minds; for they crowd. out every thought
that relates to your duty, and the things uy
which you are surrounded. Instead of
these, reed the Bible, the “ House-Keeper,”
and the Youth’s Companion : the first to
point out your duty to God ; the second to
prepare you foi acting in your own proper
sphere with usefulness ; and the third to
employ your leisure moments with reflec
tions on both. This will be really a delight
ful change, for it ia giving fiction for truth,
and pleasure for pain.
3. Is it a desire to excel in those accom
plishments which constitute a lady of qual
ity ? Why, then, it ia all the better for
you, if rightly used. Let your Piano be
Placed in view of your Loom, and you
’ainting-fiatne beside your Wheel, that
one may not be forgotten while you are en
gaged with the other, and that you may be
frequently reminded that real pleasure must
come from the use of both. Remember
that the aame path leads to usefulness and
happiness, ana that one rarely dwells in the
bosom that does not cherish the other.
4. Is it marriage 1 Jf it ia, never pur
yourselves to the trouble of letting every,
body know it. If the thought will occupy
your minds, by all mean* keep H there, and