Newspaper Page Text
BY C. R. HANLEITER.
P © H T U Y.
SPRING IS COMING.
Spring is coming, spring is coming,
Birds are chirping, insects humming;
Flowers are peeping from their sleeping,
Streams escaped from winter’s keeping.
In delighted freedom rushing.
Dance along in music gushing,
Scenes of late in deadness saddened,
Smile in animation gladdened ;
AH is beauty, all is mirth,
All is glory upon earth.
Shout we then with Nature's voice,
Welcome Spring! rejoice! rejoice!
Spring is coming, come my brother,
Let us rove with one another,
To our well-remembered wild wood,
Flourishing in nature’s childhood;
Where a thousand flowers are springing,
And a thousand birds are singing;
Where the golden sunbeams quiver
On the verdure girdled river;
Let our youth of feeling out,
To the youth of nature shout,
While the waves repeat our voice,
Welcome Spring ! rejoice ! rejoice !
igTuE © T IE B TTALIE©.
THE INDIAN GRAVE.
BY E. L. W.
In the county of Morgan there is a small
stream familiarly known to the present in
hahitantsas “ Lilian Creek.” Not far from
its water*, upon a small hill, near the centre
ol a large plantation, is a considerable
mound of earth, nearly covered bv stones
and brush-wood, known by many ns the “In
dian Grave.” The name of the Creek anil
the designation of the Grave are tiaced to
the following adventure:
On this Creek early after this purchase
was math; from the Indians, a small settle
ment hail been commenced. A few enter
enterprising fatmers, tired of the worn out
lands of North Carolina, and enticed by
the fruitfulness of the soil lying up and
down this stream, had already reared their
rude cabins, and commenced rapidly to fell
the forest around them. In sight of each
other, on three different elevations, might
be seen three unhewed cabins, roughly co
vered with boards, held in their places by
heavy poles above them. A little farther
off was yet another, bearing a stmng and fa
miliar likeness to the test. This settlement
was several miles west of any o'.her, being
nearer the Indian line. Just beyond this
boundary there was a considerable tuimbei
of Indians resident upon a small stream, on
which they had reared their hark huts, and
were preparing for a permanent abode.
How vain their expectations ! The tide of
time and emigration has rolled on. Whete
ere they now I Answer it who can.
The eldest of the four settlers was George
Frazer—his age was risingforty, with noth
ing remarkable about the expression of his
face, save an eye which looked as it it nev
er slept; bright, piercing and grey, giving
to his countenance the appearance of ex
treme caution and vigilance. His frame
was well knit and stout, his height six feet.
His nearest neighbor, Samuel Fietwell, or
as ho was familiarly tcimed, Sam Fret well,
was his cousin—his age about thirty-five
a reckless, dat ittg matt, rathei below the
middle height—he had. however, propor
tions of the finest order. I ban him no
man was more athletic, anti for steadiness
of nerve and firmness of muscle, he was
one of ten thousand. In the use of the ri
fle he was unri*aled. Often in the chase
did he, from his covert, drive the bullet to
the heart of the buck, while bounding by at
full speed, or bring to the ground the wild
turkey, while coursing his tapid flight amid
the tops of the tall pines. The other two
neighbors, William and James Bradshaw,
were brothers. Both honest industrious men,
such as may be fount! any where, with nothing
remarkable about them. 1 lie Indians rarely
ever visited this settlement. It was so new
that it was scarcely known. One and anoth
er had been occasionally seen, but no inter
course was kept up between them, for as
prudent men, they determined to have no
connexion with them, other than such as
was unavoidable.
It was now spring time. VV inter had
passed away, and with it the biting and nip
ping frost. The early buds were putting
fhith their leaves and flowers —the music
of the birds had come, and in the silence of
the evening twilight, might he heard the
plaintive note of the lonely whip-ponr-w.ll,
as he uttered forth his melancholy wallings.
Our settlers were eagerly preparing for tlie
coming crop. In the afternoon of a bright
and sunny day, Samuel Fretwell and George
Frazer were engaged in their rwarings,
which were contiguous to each other, in
dustriously cutting and splitting the trees
around them, when the report of a rifle at
no great distance from them arrested the
attention of each.
“ Heard you that rifle, Sam . said r ra
zer; “who can he hunting so near the cab
ins 1” - , -
The times are too pushing for whi e
folks to be out, I rr.r.on” said Fretwell,
“unless they have more time to spate than
I have. But. hark ! hide T ,,0^ or J O
comes a big buck, and if *<W J
(the name by which he called his nfle) don
miss fire, I recon I’ll shorten the gait at
which he is traveling.”
‘JL W®®My M®wfljp&]p®ff § lED®v(o)todl to IP<a>llM©s s Mow©* 3Latomtonr® p Mssßmiism© JLirto*
Instantly snatching up a well-worn rifle
which rested against a tree hard by, he gain
ed a proper stand, and waited the approach
of the deer. Swiftly came the buck, his
head thrown back, his long antlers seemed
to pierce his very shoulders; unconscious
of the danger ahead, he bounded on, nei
ther turning to the tight nor left, until op
posite the large oak behind which Fretwell
had hid himself, snd at the distance of an
hundred yards. Quick as thought, the old
rifle was poised upon the hand of the hun
ter ; a moment sufficed to catch the ob
ject with his eye, bring the. tight to hear up
on it—a single motion of the barrel was
seen as it moved with the bound of the
buck, and the shatp crack was heard. The
result was certain. Fretwell never missed
his aim.
“ A right good shot that, cousin Goerge,
and a fine fellow lie is too,” said he, as they
walked up to the dying deer.
“ The shot was good enough to kill him,
’ :is true, but 1 must he allowed to say it
was badly aimed ; the bullet just passed
through the fleshy part of his neck.”
“ Where I” said Fretwell. “ That is
not my bullet hole, nor is that the side at
which I fired ; turn him over and I'll bet
you'll find my ball just behind the shoulder;
that's the mark I shot at.”
So saying, they turned the deer over, and
sure enough they found the evidence of the
unetring aim of the marksman. They had
just settled the matter as to the shoot, when
four Indians came suddenly up, all rifle in
hand. They exchanged a few words among
themselves, oti seeing the deer, and one of
them approached to examine it. On dis
covering the wound made by Fret well’s
bullet, he pointed to the muzzle of his rifle,
and looking at the others, significantly shook
his head. Turning him over, his counten
ance instantly changed, as his eye rested up
on the rent made by his own ball.
“ Ah ha ! me do dat—me first shoot—
me first kill—mine deer, any how.”
Tiius expresing, in broken English, the
conviction that the deer was his hv right of
the first wound, lie proceeded to lay hold of
it, apparently careless of the presence of
the real slayer. Hardly had he done so,
when reckless of the consequences, Fret
well struck him a tremendous blow with his
fist that caused him to measure his length
alongside of the stricken deer.
“ Take that you thieving dog, will you,
and begone ; and kill your game on your
own side of the line.”
Two of the remaining Indians cocked
and leveled their guns simultaneously, hut
the quick eye of Fiazer detecting their ob
ject, he sprung between them, seizing a
gun ill either hand, and before the Indians
could arrest their purpose, each rifle was
harmlessly dischargad into the eailli. The
fourth Indian, an old man, being more wary
or more pindent, interposed to prevent fur
ther mischief. The fallen savage arising
in the mean time, and recovering his gun,
joined the others. A few wolds, unintelli
gible to our farmers,passed quickly between
them, and shouldering their rifles, they pass
ed soecdily out of the charing, in the di
rection in which they came. They had not
gone far before Frazer discoveied the fur
tive glances they ilirevv around them in ev
ery direction, and saw that the old. pacifica
tor himself seemed to mark distinctly, hv
quick but steady observation, the position
of tlie cabins around.
“ I am much mistaken, Sam, if you have
not, by that hasty blow you gave that red
skin, brought trouble upon yourself and the
rest of us; those two youngsters would
have Mowed you through, had I not detect
ed their purpose i:i time to prevent it: and
that old serpent who seemed only anxious
to make peace, is a very old devil. I’ll war
rant, and has planned many a dark scheme
of villainy before to-day. Did you not see
the vengeance in Iris face and the fury iti his
eye, as he walked away ? Mark me well,
Sam Fretwell, that old savage is not to lie
trusted : the others are young, and like
yourself, somewhat hasty, hut 1 would far
sooner trust their hasty tempeis than his
wily malevolent spirit—they would forget it
all before a week passed, hut he will repay
us with interest, if it should take years.”
*• Well, what is done can’t he undone,”
said Fretwell, “ but they had better keen
out of the t each of * Old Nancy,” else I’ll
try and make the debt larger—we must on
ly'keep up a closer watch for a season, and
their anger will pass off.”
“ Be not so easily flattered into security,
cousin Sam—l am an older man than you,
and may be given to look closer into things;
at all events, I am no judge of human na
ture, if that old Indian does not give us
trouble yet.”
By this time the two Bradshaws, having
heard the firing, came up; matters wete
explained, and the apprehensions of Fra
zer expressed—the danger was apparent to
all, and ere they separated, they arranged
that all the families, at night, should occupy
one house, and that two of the men should
stand on guard each night alternately, until
such time as the danger might be passed.—
In conformity with this arrangement, that
night was passed in watching, the duty be
ing performed by the brothers Bradshaw,
without resulting in any discoveries. The
Indians came not. Thus performing the
duties of watchmen, our little band of far
mers passed many a night of sleepless vigi
lence- As yet, to all appearance, it was
done without necessity, and exposed them
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH 1, 1844,
to much fatigue and many privations. As
yet, their cabins were unburnt, their fami
lies unharmed. Not an Indian had been
seen —not even foot print had been de
tected by the ever-watcliful Frazer. But
still they did not cease to pass night tip
ou their accustomed guard, and even dur
ing the day, while engaged on their farms,
their faithful rifles were their constant com
panions ; and often, when approaching the
outer verge of their dealings, they would
pause, and cast quick and searching glances
into the thickets around them, and listen
well, lest some skulking Indian suddenly
should spring upon them, or send the dead
ly bullet to their hearts.
Aptil had come. The leaves expanding
with each returning sun, had mantled the
forest in its vernal garments. Far and near
around the cabins of our settleis, lay one
unbroken woodland scene, save in the di
rection of the Creek—there the labor of the
axeman Jtad been bestowed, and there the
timber had been cut and killed, to give place
to the coming crop. After the labors of a
day, rather warm for the season, our far
mers, with their families, were quietly sit
ting around the hearth-light, enjoying them
selves as well as possible, under the circum
stances by which they were surrounded.—
Many had been the remarks upon indiffer
ent matters—one subject leading to another,
till at length they recurred to the subject of
their danger.
“ Well,” at length said Fretwell, “ I am
beginning to think our neighbors over the
line are satisfied with the scare we gave
them, and are willing to let us alone—weeks
have elapsed since the deet-killing scrape,
and it strikes me if ever they intended to
take vengeance, they would have made a
trial before now. What think you of it,
cousin, George 1”
Frazer being thus addressed, remarked,
“ Ttust not appearances, Sam—they are
deceitful—the surest way to cure an evil, is
to pi event it. lam as liable to he deceived
as another, hut never shall I believe other
wise, than that running old savage intended
to repay us the blow you inflicted upon his
companion. Why he has not already made
the attempt, I am unable to say—he may
he only waiting a favorable opportunity to
execute his purpose. For myself, Ido not
feel safe from his resentment, and am not
willing to relax my efforts to avoid it.”
The sudden and fierce barking of a dog
outside the yard, arrest'd the conversation,
and fixed the attention of the speaker.
“ Who goes there 1” exclaimed Fiazer.
No answer was made—the dog barked
on.
Who is that ? Come here Tiger—
come here, sit.”
At the bidding of his master, a large cur,
leaping the fence, came hastily up, evident
ly distutbed in an unusual degree, but quick
ly returned and continued his angty balk
ing.
“ Someone must he about,” Frazer con
tinued ; “Tiger never haikstlius at any
harmless creature. I will close the door.—
If it he any person desirous to come in, they
will surely call.”
The door was shut. In a short time the
dog became quiet—he had been deceived,
or the intruder had departed. Fiazer how
ever, was not relieved of his apprehen
sions.
“ 1 should not he surprised,” said he, “if
the rascally red skins wete about. Sam,
look you well to the priming of your rifle,
and doyou,” addressing the two Bradshaws,
“sleep to-night with unclosed eyes, and
firelock in hand ; it rnay ho, we may have
to give them a round at short; and clo you
wife, set the example to the other women,
of coolness nnd courage. If we are attack
ed, lie close with the children, and in si
lence, prepare for any emergency. Sam, it
is your turn and mine to watch. You know
your recklessness and propensity to under
rale danger; he not too sanguine to-night.
You may need more prudence than you are
apt to exhibit. An incautious act may en
danger all our lives. Be governed by me—
place yourself where you cant he seen—
keep your position—if you see an Indian,
be sure of your aim, and fire. ’Tis per
haps best that we make the attack, if indeed
there he 1 ndians about, which 1 hope is not
the case.”
Thus ended his instructions—both should
ered their guns, and cautiously leaving tiie
house, proceeded to their hiding places.—
Fiazer taking a tree in the rent of the house,
from which position he could see the ap
proacli of a person in any direction, in front
oi on either side of him. Fretwell depart
ing to the front of the house, settled him
self down just inside the yard fence, be
tween the fence and a large fallen tree,
where he could command the approach to
the house from any point in that direction.
The large dog was with Frazer, under
whose command he was as obedient as a
child. These arrangements were noiseless
ly and quickly made.
’Twas past the hour of midnight. The
fire had ceased to burn upon tliecahm hearth.
The inmates of the house were silent, if not
sleeping. The notes of the whip-poor-will
were occasionally heard, issuing from the
low grounds of the adjacent Creek, accom
panied by the solemn melancholy hooting*
of the sol tary owl. Save these occasional
outbreaks upon the silence of the night, the
forest slumbered on in unbroken quiet.—
The moon shone not, but the sky was un
clouded, and the stars lustrous and brilliant,
shed out upon the earth a calm and mellow
light. Ever and again, the tustling of a leaf,
the murmur of the wind, or the cracking of
a stick, would cause the rye to turn in the
direction of the sound. But no object yet
had fixed the attention of the watch
ers. The night was rapidly wearing away.
Fietwell was beginning to manifest signs of
impatience and lestlessness, when a low
and indistinct sound, like the note of a star
tled partridge, fell upon hi-s ear. With in
tense interest lie listened for a repetition of
the sound. Nor long did he wait—it was
soon repeated, and louder and more distinct
than before, and immediately he heard it
answered in the direction of Frazer’s stand.
The sound had come first from the woods
before him, and though he examined every
object with keen scrutiny, yet he could see
no living creature that could have given ut
terance to the sound. He had heard that this
was one of the Indian signals to ensure con
cert in their prowlings, and he was confi
dent in his belief that Indians were about.
“ Hang the rascal,” said he, in commun
ion with himself, “if he will just get out
where a glimpse of star-light can full upon
him, and ‘ Old Nancy’ will hut speak sharp,
I’ll make liitn feel more like a dead dog
than a living pattridge.”
Again his ear caught the sound, and near
ear than before, and he heard the respond
ing answer given.
“ What meaneth all this,” again mused
Sam Fretwell. “ Nearer still, and no one
to he seen. Wete it even a partridge itself,
surely it would rustle the leaves enough for
me to hear it and fix upon the spot at which
it stopped.”
His anxiety to catch a sight of the lurk
ing foe became so intense, that he incau
tiously raised his head above the topmost
rail of the fence, and explored, with his eye,
the woods around. The sudden sound,
though partially muffled, produced by the
cocking of a gun, caused him instantly to
lower it ; for that was a sound he knew too
well to mistake. “ Old Nancy” was bro’t
to his shoulder in a moment, though he had
not yet seen his object. He thought the
sound of the cocking had proceeded from
a laige tree just before him, about forty
yards off. He watched that tree with the
eye of an Atgus. G'azing at it so intently,
his vision became indistinct and wavering,
and he was compelled to turn his eyes in
another direction, and upon other objects,
to relieve them from the intensity of the
effort.
“ Ha ! what i that,” he muttered, as his
eye, relieved, rested upon a sttang object
moving upon the ground, slowly and cau
tiously approaching the fence to his right.
Now it stopped—in a moment more is was
again in motion, but from tlie indistinct out
lines presented, Fretwell could discover
none of the marks of either man or beast.
“What can it he I ’Tis not a hog, or cow,
or sheep ; can it he an Indian ?”
As this idea gained possession of his mind,
his rifle was again cautiously raised to his
shoulder, and his eye glanced quickly along
tlie barrel. The object stopped again, near
er the fence, and just in the edge of a small
cluster of sumac bushes that had grown up
rank and thick in the corners of the fence.
Now it assumed another shape; higher it
rose, and peered around in every direction.
Seeming to discover nothing it gained ano
ther elevation, uru! then another, drawing it
self up to it full height, and presenting the
shape and outline of a tall savage to the
eye of Fretwell. Quickly muffling the
sound, he cocked his rifle. Another mo
ment, and the savage was drawn full within
tlie deadly line of the barrel. Another, and
a ruddy glare of light streamed forth from
pan and muzzle, and the voice of “ Old Nan
cy” shortly uttered, was heard, breaking
upon the stillness of the night, and echoing
along the silent forest. Unmindful of* his
danger, Fretwell sprang upon the fence to
seethe effect of his shot. The flash and
report of a rifle front behind the very tree
at which he had looked so long, warned him
ptomptly of his tashness. The hall passed
him, just grazing the collar of his coat.—
He spcedlily retreated to the house—ere he
reached the door, another crock, and then
another, and a third, i° tapid succession,
were heard. Unhurt he reached the door
and entered it. Rapidly he re-loaded bis
gun. The Bradshaws wen up and ready
for tlie fight. Fiazer and the dog wete
outside still. The women and cliildren,
feeling tlie full danger of their condition,
were awed into deathlike silence—no sound
escaped them. But Frazer came not.
After lie had selected his stand in the
early part of the night, he observed noth
ing, until he heard the low noise noticed by
Fretwell, nnd heard tlie answering sound.
Then he was satisfied that savages lurked
neat him. His faithful dog too seemed in
stinctively to apprehend danger, and mani
fested strong anxiety to hunt out the lurk
ing enemy. But Frszer kept him down,
and curbed his impatience. Lying at trig
master’s feet, he watched quietly, waiting
for the moment to come when Iris services
might he required. As yet, no Indian had
been seen by Frazer, though the answering
sound had come from an Indian but a few
rods from him. Closely did he watch in
that direction ; ant! at the moment when he
heard the voice of “ Old Nancy,” he saw
but a short distance from him, an Indian
rise from the ground, and move rapidly to
wards Fretwell, until he gained the covert
of a stump, behind which he squatted. At
tlie report ofthe second gun, the Indian was
on his feetagain, with riflepoised, and wasthe
next to fire at Fretwell. All this time Fra
zer had watched his movements, arid sever
al times had tried to fix his rifle upon him,
but could not. He was patient, however —
determined not to shoot without a certainty
of his object. He heard Fretwell enter
the house. He knew he could gain it at
pleasure, and remained to watch the opera
tions of their foes. The. Indian behind the
stump was re loading his gun, when anoth
er came up to him—a short consultation en
sued—both endeavoring to keep the stump
between them and the cabin, believing that
the men were all within. George Frazer
waited no longer. “ Now is my time, if
ever,” said he ; and raising his rifle up to
the level of the savages, he carefully wait
ed until his aim should be sure and Iris hand
steady. Feeling thus sure, lie lightly touch
ed the trigger, and the pent up hall was ra
pidly sped upon its death errand. A wild
savage wail gave evidence that the aim Was
true, and the result fatal. Both Indians fell.
Frazer still lingered behind Iris tree, to see
if either rose. Presently the one farthest
off'raised his head, and commenced drag
ging hUnselffurtiier of; he moved but slow
ly, for he was badly wounded. Frazer had
again loaded his gnn.
“Now,” said lie, “I will see if I can
make tlie rascals show themselves. 1 have
heard that they will fight like devils to save
from capture, their dead and wounded.—
Now I shall see. Sant Fretwell ! Sam
Fietwell ! do you and the Bradshaws come
when I call for you again, and he quick,—
Tiger,” said he to his dog, patting him on
the neck, and pointing in the direction of
the wounded Indian, “take him, catch
him.” Tiger springing forward with a
startling bark, was, in a moment, at the
throat of the dead Indian ; finding no resis
tance, he hounded on towards the other.—
The Indian stopped, and raising himself up
as well as lie could, drew his knife and pre
pared for the conflict. He uttered another
piercing, wailing cry, and three others rush
ed to the rescue.
“ Now boys, come,” cried Frazer—and
our sturdy farmers, nothing loth, rushed for
ward.
““Stop, stop —fall to the ground.”
The order was obeyed, hut too late for
Fretwell, whose temerity and recklessness
overbalanced his piudence—ho was ahead
of the others, and tardy in the execution of
the order, and ere he reached the ground,
the Indians fired. A hall passed through
his thigh, luckily missing the hone. But the
stratagem succeeded. The three Indians
believing theii fire was fatal, utteted a live
ly veil, and tushed simultaneously towards
the fallen man.
“ Lie close, boys,” said Frazer, “ and
cock your rifles.”
Watchful as tlie tiger ready to spring up-*
on h ; s prey, each waited a moment longer.
Two other Indians had by this time reached
the dog, who held the wounded savage at
hay. The three were rushing up, brand
ishing their knives, and yelling furiously.
“ Now is the time,” cried Fiazer, “ let
them have it altogether.”
The report that followed was os tlie sound
of a single gun, so exactly did they agree
as to mine. Fretwell, though wounded,
being enabled to mnke “ Old Nancy” do her
duty too-. Two Indians fell dead. The
other turning, ran with the speed of the
frightened buck from the fatal spot. Just
then another Indian fired, and Tiger, the
faithful companion of Fiazer, fell. The
remaining three Indians hastily caught their
wounded companion, anddiew him further
into the depth of the forest. Believing it
imprudent to follow them beneath the shad
ow of the woods, our brave settlers waited
upon the ground until they passed from
their view, and then entered their cabin.—
Fretwell’s wound, tho’ slight, was painful,
hut the application of simples by Mrs. Fia
zer, soon alleviated his nain. A dose and
vigilant watch was kept up the remainder
of the night, hut the Indians, satisfied with
their reception, did not return.
At the break of day they proceeded to
review the scene of their fearful night’s
adventure. Just in the edge of a patch of
sumac hushes, lay the old savage, at whom
Fretwell fired first. The identical villain
of whom Frazer had warned them so re
peatedly. Malice deep and abiding, even
in death, was broadly written on every lin
ament of his face. Fretwdl’s bullet had
passed through Iris heart. At tlie stump
they found another, nnd nearer the house,
lay the two last, one pierced with three balls,
the same who had been struck by Fre’.well
on the day of the first difficulty Just in
the edge of the wood, where the last effort
had been made to secure the wounded In
dian, they found Tiger, shot through the
head, and cut in the body in many places.
His conflict had been fierce and bloody.
“Plague on the rascal thnt did this deed,”
said Frazer. “ I would that I could have
a chance to repay it. What say you 1 Let
us follow them—there were hut three, and
we are three. They cannot he far—carry
ing that wounded one is a heavy job, and
maybo we can track them by the blood,”
They started in pursuit, but were quick
ly out. About a quarter of a mile from tlie
house they saw where they had stopped
and constructed a litter. From this spot
they could not track them, the blood had
ceased to mark their trail, and their moca- |
ains left no impression on the leaves. They
VOLUME 11.---NUMBER 49.
vert* unused to bunting Indians by the foot
print, and abandoned the piitOuit. They
returned mid dug a large grave, in which
they buried the four Indians.
This is the story of the “ Indian Grave.”
And from the circumstance recorded above,
the name of the Creek was taken, and t
this day it is known in Morgan as “ Indian
Creek.
Madison, 1837.
F@G3 TIKI IE
(U® We select the following choice arti
cle for the special interest of Mattied La
dies. To receive the full benefit, however,
let them read it “in mild and winning
tones” to their husbands, when
“ The sun is set, the day is o'er,
And labor’s voice is heard no more.'’
MAKING WIVES LOVE THEIR
HOMES.
A great deal has been said, by many in
dividuals; about the stay-at-home duty of
wives; and the obligation under which they
live, to make home pleasant and comfort®-
hie, attractive, and all that. The inference
from this one sided preaching and caution
is, that men have nothing to do in the mat
ter ; and that nothing depends upon them in
relation to the comforts of what is intended
to he the pleasantest place upon earth.—
Women are soundly rated for gadding, as
if they had no right to he seen out of door®;
while men may treat their homes as mere
cook-shops, and places where lodgings are
provided for them—coming in only to their
food and to their bed 9, and nobody questions
either their l ight thus to neglect their fami
lies, or the propriety and policy of such
neglect.
When a man thus contemptuously treats
his home, and evinces in every action his
preference for any place except his own
fireside, what are we to expect of the rest
of “ the folks,” hut that they should emu
late the father of the family, and despise
home too I If iley make it comfortable, it
must be from selfish considerations ; foi no
body cares anything about it for more than
an hour at a time. All the efforts of the
wife to call attention to improvements anti
alteiations in the household being lost, or
responded to in the language and tone of
indifference, she becomes dispirited, and
naturally learns to put a small estimate upon
what receives but small consideration from
otheis. Os course, she must “ gad,” or bo
miserable.
Wives and religion are treated much
alike in this world. 801/i, to use a Hiber
nicism, are considered the one thing need
ful, and both are neglected. To both a
great deal of lip worship is paid—and to
'wards both, to do human nature justice,
there is a great deal of warmth of heart.—
It is, however, but an abstract feeling—a
sentiment by fits and starts, which comes
over one when lie is melted by adversity, or
cheered by extraordinary good fortune. 18
comes out upon great occasions, hut in the
daily walks of life, wheie its influence
should he seen and felt, it is a hidden thing.
If a man is dying himself, he culls upon his
Maker with as much fervency as if he had
never forgotten Him; and if his wife is at
the point of death, he makes himself as
busy and as anxious as if lie had never for
gotten her. The same feeling equalized
through his life, would prevent a man’s
terrible anxiety at the point of death ; and
proper and attentive care of his wife, at all
times, and under all circumstances, would
leave him no necessity to be over-anxlons
to atone for usual rcmissucss when she is in
danger or distress.
Every manied man who does not know
that his wife’s whole soul is in her house,
ought to learn it. If such be not her dis
position, he will stand a fair chance tp be
unhappy, unless, indeed, he can'find some
means to alter her tastes, or to conform hie
household and his pursuits to her peculiar
mental conformation. Waiving such, as
extraordinary rases, and taking women as
we usually find them, the manied man
should cousidcr his house as his wife’s em
pire; and if lie would obtain and keep a
hold upon her sincere affections, he must
learn to feel an interest in all she does with
in her proper sphere. The veriest trifle
that takes place at home by her direction,
is conducted with a view to his comfort and
wishes. Men do not think of this sufficient
ly. Then cares and intercourse are divided
on so many different points, and among so
many different people, that they cannot,
without schooling their minds to the sub
ject, comprehend a woman’s single attach
ment for one person, and care for him.—
He cannot realize that it is his duty to meet
this by a corresponding feeling to be shown
always at home. Engrossed in tire weighty
cares of business, lie forgets that what ap
pear but trifles to him, employ as much the
attention of his wife, as his iiegocialious
upon ’change, or his business transaction®
or affairs occupy him. He would feel sljJJy
annoyed, if wliut he chooses to tell Ins wife
of his business, did not interest her, or if
she made no inquiiies relative to his busi
ness and prospects.
On the some ground he should reflect,
that his wife lias a light to he nettled and
vexed, and may naturally l>ecnro* habitual
ly despondent, if he passes the budget of
domestic news without the expression of