Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
ty\.i ;p.y.{.t J a
The Lady Alice.
BY T. H ClilVEßs, M D.
The eight is sen tie with pUasur*—
Balmy the ail
for the j\iixii makes the iey More
Arueinly cU ar;
And the Stars with their music make measure
To mine down here—
My song down here—
My beautiful snii down here.
2.
Pale light from her orb is raining
On earth—the sm ;
While I am on earth complaining
Os one to me
More lair than the Moon now waning—
More pure than she—
More fair than she—
More womanly pure than she.
3.
She lives in li.-r golden palace
Beside the sea;
And In r name is the Lady Alice— |
S>o dear to me ! /
And she drinks from her ehrystal Chalice
Sweet wine so free—
White wine so tree—
Because her pure heart is free.
4.
She sings while the \ngels listen
With pure delight!
Anil the Stars with new glory glisten,
And laughti r bright;
While my lii art in its narrow prison
Doth pine to night—
Pine all the night—
For want of iny Moon to-night.
5.
She smiles while my soul is sorry
With love divine ;
And the Stars hear in Heaven the story
Which makes me pine!
I would give all their crowns of glory
If she were mine—
Were only mine—
Were only forever mine.
6.
Oltl come from thy golden palace,
Sweet Lady bright !
And fill up this empty Chalice
With wine to-night !
I drink to toy Ijnly Alice 1
My soul's di light—
Heart—soul s delight—
My ever divine delight!
Written tor ‘he Georgia Citizen.
The Pirate < hi. f to his Mary,
BY FKF.D RAYMOND.
However blaek this heart may be
With crime or damning treachery.
There yet remains one spot free,
Sacred to love and memory.
Two years this eve have come and gone,
Since last I saw my Mary's form,
K'C pt at night, in dr< ans of joy
Be ore me stand mv wife and boy.
0. how 1 love that gentle for u.
Watching, perchance the ocean storm,
As the mad veuves the billows rear.
Crying Gid .’ protect mt/ Henry dear.
Tell me. dearest, O tell your lover,
I)oest thou vet love the pirate rover ?
If so, forgive his crime-stained life,
I know th >u wilt -thou art his wife.
Pear to me is the net an wild,
But d.-arer far my wife an I clnld.
I will return to my island home,
And ne’er again from Mary roam.
Then dearest, dry those wretched tears,
Call me no more—thy Henry In.-.rs—
l.Vti n w his yacht is turning round.
And hometenrd oYr the waves she’ll bound.
Woman ! thy power o'er man is great,
Stronger by far, than force or fate.
Thousands have tried tuc-uiquer me,
’Tis done at last, ’tis done by thee.
Vineville, Apr. 1850.
Lore Never Sleeps,
“ Love never sleeps!’’ The mother’s eye
Bends o'er her dying infant's bed ;
And as she marks the mo men's fly,
M hile death creeps o i with noiseless tread,
Faint and distress’d, she sits and weeps
M uh beating heart ! —'Lite never sleeps /’
Act. e’en that sad and fragile fi>'in
Forgets the tumuli of her breast;
Pt spite the horrors of the storm,
O'erburd.'ii and Nature sinks to rest;
But o'er them both another keeps
His midnight watch —Lice never sleeps .’’
Around—above—the angel bauds
S.o ips o’er the eare- woru sons of men ;
\1 ith pitying eyes and eager hands,
They raise the soul to hope again ;
Free as the air, their pity sweeps
The storms oi Time !—'L ive never sleeps .”
And around—beneath—and over all—
O’er men and an Is, eanh and heaven,
A higher bends I The slightest call
Is answer’d—and relief is given
In hours of woe, when sorrow steeps
The heart in pain —'tie never sleeps! 1
Oh, God of Love ? our eyes to Thee,
Tired of the world’s false radiance, turn ;
Ami as we view thy purity.
We feel our hearts within us burn ;
Convinced that in the lowest deeps
Os human ill, —'Lore never sleeps!’ Anon.
Mary Is not here.
The summer’s light is on the flowers,
Its sini e is on the sky,
The fountain flingeth sunny flower*,
And birds are singing nigh
The breeze is chanting through the dell,
Its voice no more is dear.
It souiidcth only like ‘'tarewell.”
I care not now to chase the fawn,
Not now to tame the bird,
Since she. our loveliest, is gone,
Since she no more is heard.
Hi r.’s nought but sorrow in each face,
i'.ven pleasure brings a tear,
Oh every spot’s a lonely place
Since Alary is not here.
Me marked the fludi upon her check,
The ana low in li -r eye.
And often, when she tried to.-peak,
She only heaved a sigh ;
An 1 though our ln-arts to her were love,
An 1 though .-he hi hi us dear.
The angels wan'ed her above,
And Mary is not here.
W e wrapped the shroud around her breast,
w e took one curl away,
And laid Inr graceful term to rest,
W lure south, in breezes play ;
The willow We. petll o’er her bed,
The ocean moanetb near,
Oh ev. ry joy to us is dead
Since Mary is not here.
An Acrostic.
Respectfully inscribed to the Editor.
BY J M CLIFFORD. U. 8. A.
Hid you ever, dear read r. one in i nent in life, think
Over the cares of an E litor’s life l
Cutting and slashing, with scissors and pen,
Toiling tin - the world—his own fellow-men.
Over these lines then hastily glance.
Reflecting in candor, an Editor's chance.
Learning and wit, science and art,
Fun ami amusement---all lie imparts,
Wandering far, for tjie news of the day,
Atid gathering rich {.e-in- —the poet’s lay’,
N aught hut the latest, the choicest, the best,
Doth he in his sai ctu n t’lti p< rinit to rest.,
Rewarded by trouble, by care ami by pain,
Ever toiling for good—or honor or fame.
\\ e"ll cheer such a hero—-a worl lin himself,
-sure be his guerdon of honor and pelf.
Manila Hatbiiigton.
The wife of Washington n ust ever be a a subject o
interest to the women of America. Her virtues, apart
from the exalted p nit in iof h-r huibml, hive mile
her worthy of remembrance and esteem. She was, in
every respect, a model of her sex.
The maiden name of La ly Washington was Martha
i Janhridgc. and she was born of an honorable family in
the county of New K< lit. Vs.. in May, 1732. She grew
up b. dutiful ami amiable; and at sixteen was alivndi
die belle of the district. Accomplished, at least fur tlia>
day; peculiarly fascinating in manners; ami possess and
of a grace ul ami pleasing countenance, she was souglr
m marriage by iiu in-rous admirers, and she finally be
s owed her hand, at the age of seventeen, on Col
Daniel i'arke Custis of her native county. Two chil
dren wa re the fruits of this marriage, neither of w hom
survived the mother.
W hile yet in the full bloom of beauty, Mrs. Custis
was left a widow. With an ample fortune, and unusu
al charms of person, she was soon again beseiged with
suitors. But none made any impression on her heart
until she attained htr twenty-sixth year, when she ac
cidentally made the acquaintance of Washington then
Colonel in the service of Virginia. Her grand-son
George \V. Parke Custis, in a iiiographv of her -life,
has given a romantic account of the first int< rview be
tween Mrs. Custis and her future husband.
‘lt was in 1758,’says her biographer, ‘that an officer
attired in a military undress and attended bv a body
servant, tall and military as his chief, cro-sed the ferry
illicit Williams’ over file I’aiiiunkey, a branch of tin*
Yorfe. ,? ‘v e r, On tnV bout hatching the southern or
New Kent side, the soldier's progress was arrested bv
one of those personages who give the beau ideal of Vtr
ginia gentlemen of the old regime—the very soul o’
kindness and hospitality. He would hear of no rx
cuse on the officer's part declining the invitation to
stop at his house. In vain the Colonel pleaded inipor
taut busim ssat Williamsburgh ; Mr. Chamberlaync in
sisted that his friend must dine with him at the very
least, lie promised, as a temptation, to introduce him
to a young an I charming widow, w ho chanced then to
bean initiate of his dwelling. At last the soldier sur
rendered at discretion, resolving however to pursue It s
journey the same evening. They proceeded to the
mansion.
- M . Chambi rlayne presented Col. Washington to his
various guests, among whom was the beau iful Mrs
Custis. Tradition says that the two were favorably
impressed With each other at the first interview! I
may be supposed that the conversation turned upon
>eem s in which the whole community had deep interesi
—seei es winch the young hero, fresh from his early
fields, could eloquently describe, and we may fancy with
what inti rest the fair listem r ‘to In ar did seriously in
cline or how ‘tiie heavenly rhetoric ot her eyes’ beam
eil unconscious ad. iration up m the manly speaker.—
The morning passed; the sun sank low in the horizon.
The hospitable host smiled as lie saw ill- Colonel's faith
ful attendant, Bishop, true to li s orders, holding his mas
ler's spirited steed at the gate. Tile veteran waited
and marvelled at the delay. ‘All, Bishop.’ says the fan
writer. describing the occurrence, ‘there was an urchin
in the drawing room more powerful than King George
ami all his governors! Subtle as a spliynx. lie had hid
den the important despatches from the soldier's sight
shut up Ins ears from th summons of the tell-tale clock
ami was plating such mad pranks, with the braves,
lieHri in Cbristeiido ii, that it fluttered with the excess
of new found happiness.
Mr. Cliamb’ rlayne insisted that no guest ever left
his house alter sunset, ami is visitor was persuaded,
without much difficulty, to remain. The next day was
tar advanced when the eu in >re I sol her -vax oil the
road to Williamsburg. Ills business there lu-ing des
patched, he hastened to the captivating widow.
The marriage that followed the acquaintance thus
romantically begun, took place ill I?5‘J, and was at
tended by all the beauty and wealth of the neighbor
hood. After the ceremony, Colonel and Mrs. Wash
ington repaired to Mount Vernon, win re they took up
their abode. By this union, an addition ot about on.
hundred thousand dollars was .mule to the fortune n
Washington, an accession which rcndcreed him one ot
the most opulent gentlemen of the old Dominion. En
grossed with each other, the young couple continued
to reside on their estate, until, the war of independence
break tig out, Washington was summoned to the rtel i
to lead his country’s armies. M:s. Washington, how
ever, even m>w, would not consent to part entirely
from her husband. She accompanied him to Cam
bridge, and remained until the evacuation of Bo ton.
when, the army moving on to New York for an active
campaign, she returned for awhile to Virginia.
After this, it was her custom to spend her summers
at Mount Vernon, rejoining the General as soon as thi
army went into winter quarters. At the close of each
campaign, accordingly, an aid-de-camp was despatched
to escort her to her husband. Her arrival at vamp was
always a season of rejoicing. The plain chariot, with
the mat postillions in their scarlet and white liveries,
was welcomed as the harbinger of rest and cheerful
ness. Her example was followed by the wives o! high
er officers. Thus every winti r, something like society
was established at head quarters, when the smiles an
affection ot woman relieved, for a sea# in at h ast, ill
gloom of disaster and despair.
Lilly Washington '* - accustomed to say that it had
ever been her fortune to h ar the first cannon at th
op ning. and last at the closing of all the campaigns o
tile war of llidep-tideliee. 1 fill ing tile terribl - winter
•if 1777-8. she was at Valley Forge. The privation
in which lie ha 1 to submit may b>* ja Ige I from a a lei
•er she wrote to Mrs. Warren, in which she says;—
The G. n ral’s apartment is very small; he has had a
log cabin built to and ue in. which has made our quarters
nucli more toll table than they were at first.’ Think
if a woman of Lady Wash ngton’s fortune and posi
tion, dining now-a-daya for a winter iu a log cabin!—
“ 3niiejieniient iu nil tilings —Hint trill in notjjing.”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 3, 1851.
During this awful season, this august female sought oui
the most distressed of the soldiers and alleviated then
suffering.as far as possible out of her private purse.—
each was lady of the olden ti.ne! lust<ad of lounging
idly at home in luxury, she shared fully her husband's
trials; instead of exhausting her wealth on selfish in
dulgences. she divided it with the hungry and sick.
The Marquis dc Chastelleux, who visited the United
States after I he alliance with France, thus describes tin
camp life ot General and Lady Washington—’Tin
head quarters at Newburgh Consist of a single house, built
in the Dutch fashion, and neither large nor commod
ious. The largest room in it, which Wa-hington has
converted int<) his dining room, is tolerably capacious,
but has seven doors and only one window. Tile chim
ney is against the wall, so that the fire is in the room
itself. 1 found the company assembled in a long room
\ liicli served as a parlor. At nine, sttpp. r was s rved.
and when bed time came. 1 found that chamber to
which the General conducted me was the very parlor
poken of, wherein he had made them place a camp
ne l. We assembled at the breakfast next morning at
en doling which interval my bed was folded up; and
ny chamber b came the sitting room for the whole af
ternoon ; for American manners do not admit of a
!>ed in the toon in which company is received, espe
cially women. The smallness of the house, and the
inconvenience to which I saw the General and Mrs.
Wa-hin-t >n had put themselves to receive me, made
no apprehensive lest M. Rocliambeau might a rive on
he same day. The day I remained at head quarters
was either at he table or in conversation.’
When at Mt. Vernon, both before and after the war,
Lady Washington, like a wise house-wife, busied her
self in superintending personally Iter domestic affairs.
Vs that wasa day when cotton factories were as yet un
known, every household had to do most of its own
spinning; and Lady Washington kept sixteen spinning
w! els constantly going. She was accustomed ftvqui-nt
yto wear fabrics thus made. One of her favorite
dresses of this home manufacture was of cotton striped
with silk weighing not qu tea pound and a half. Her
coachman, footman, and waiting maid were all dressed
in domestic cloth. She was economical without being
niggardly, and this from principle. She knew that in
consequence of her station, she was looked up to he
imitated ; and she wished to show an example of mod
era.ion. Even when Washington was President, she
continued this praiseworthy Conduct. As late as 1796,
Mrs. Wils >n, enquiring for pocket-hand kerchiefs at a
fashionable store in Pliiluth lplii.a, was shown so me piec
es of lawn, of which Lady Washington had just pur
chased, and the in oruia'iNii was added that she had
paid six shillings for handkerchiefs for her own use, but
went as high as seven shillings tor the President's.
Her elegance and ease of manner, joined to her af
f.iblity, rendered her, when the wife of the Chief Magis
trate. beloved by all. Mrs. Ellet says of this portion of
tier life : ‘Theestablish nent of the President and Mrs.
Washington was formed at the seat of government.
The levees had more of courtly ceremonial than has
been known since, but it was necessary to maintain
the dignity of office by forms that should inspire re
'P ot. Special regard was paid to the wives of men
who had deserved much of their country. Mrs. Nor
ris was accustomed to sit at the right of the President,
alfthj* drawinr rooms, and the widow of Green and
Montgomery were always handed to and from their
carriages by the President himself; the secretaries and
gentlemen of his household performing those services
lot the other ladies. In this elevated station, Mrs.
Washington, unspoiled by distinction, still leaned on
the kindness of her friends, and cultivated cheerfulness
as a duty. Site was beloved as few are in a superior
eon.lit on. Mrs. W arren says in reply to one of her Kt
sers, ‘your observation may be rue, that young and
gravel ladies eonsid, r your attention at enviable; yet
I know not one who by general consent wotili he more
1 kely to obtain the suffrages n the sex, even were they
t> canvass the election for llte elevated station, than the
lady who holds the first in the United Slat. s.
She did not long survive her august hu band. Less
Mian two y. ars after his and a h, she was attacked with
a fatal illness, and feeling her end approaching, she
ealled her grand children around her; discoursed to
hem of religion, and, am and the tears of her family,
quietly resigned her life into the hands of her Creator.
: ler death took place on the 22<1 of May, 18<)2, aud she
was hurried beside fi.-r husband.
Gidy Washington is a model for the imitation of
her sex. Her abilities were superior, her heart kind,
and her conduct under the control of Christian princi
ple. The gentle dignity of her manner inspired re
-pect without creating enmity. In her youth aud even
iu mature womanhood, she was distinguished for per
sonal loveliness.— Ltdir's Journal.
An opinion of woman. —Even in the common af
fairs of life, m love, friendship, and marriage, how lit
tle security have we when we trust our happiness in
tile hands of others! Most of the friends 1 have seen
nave turned out the bitterest enemies, or eol I UUeom
tortablc acqua.iitancr. Old companions are like meats
served up too often, that lose their relish and their
ivholesomeiietM. lie who looks at beauty to admire,
to adore it, who rea Is of its wondrous power iu novels,
m poems, or ui plays, is not uu vise: but let no man
tail m love, for from that oment he is ‘the baby of a
girl/ 1 like very well to repeat such lines as these in
tlte play 4 of Mirandola—
‘ With ivliat a waving air she goes
Along the eoriior. llmv like a fawn!
Yet statelier. Hark ! No sound, however soft,
Nor gentlest echo telleth when she treads.
But every motion ot iter shape doth seem
Ha.lowed by silellee— ’
but however beautiful the description, defend me from
meeting with the original!
4 The fly that sips treacle
Is lost ill the sweets ;
So he that tastes woman
Hum meets.’
The song is Gay ’s, not mine, and a bitter-sweet it is.
lIAZeITT.
The Violin. — Gardner, in his entertain
ing work entitled “ Music of Nature,” says
that the violin had its origin in Italy, about the
year 1000 —but .hose winch Were esteemed of
the greatest value were made at a later period,
about 1650, at Cremona, by the family of A.
and J. Amati, and their contemporary Stradi
vari, of the same place. These instruments are
found to be very much superior to any that
have bean made since that time, which acknowl
edged exc 11 nee is chi fly attributed to their age
iue Amati which is rather smaller in size than
the violin at the present and ty, is recognised by
its sweetness of tone. The Strud van is larger
and louder, and is so highly esteem -d that lim
in’ have been sold for the sum ol 2 JO guineas.
The violin Inis not altere l its shape for tin
last 18 0 year-. Speaking ot the etieet of age,
ii uditerremarks that it is an opinion confirm -d
nv experience and contes-ed by the rest of Eu
rope, that the br.llant sky of Italy com mu-ii
cates to musical iu-ti u n-tits an in -xpressilih*
■ l lieacv which th y do not po-s-ssm other
climates. It is relat and that during the seige of
Valenciennes, the English General, 80-vilh-,
>vaa m treaty with a T rench mu-ioiau iu tlte eu
emy camp, tor a Crem >na violin, aud that as
soon aa the bargain was struck, the iustrumout
was sent for by a fiaj of truce! The lattei
circuiustauce got into the newspaper, and raised
the funds two per edit.
Truth of Christianity.— The personal his
tory of Neander is an impressive illustration of
the truth of Christianity, and an instance of it
divine power. He himself assure* us that he
had to grope hi way from the venerable ritual
of ancient Judaism onward to the vision of the
l’lantoiiic plnlosphy, until lie at ■ast found re
pose in tile doctrines and the death of Jesus of
Nazareth. We accordingly see him wander
ing at first among the types and symbols and
pro) hetie utterance of the Jewish Church, then
seeking relief in the schools of the world’s phi
losophy, and finally retracing his st--ps to dis
cover the path wax of t. ath, iu following the
faith of his childhood to/its glorious issue in
Christ. Here he found the symbolical lan
guage of Judaism deciphered, while at the sain
time he found that his spiritual wants were sat
isfied, and that a practical solution was given
to the mysteries of the wo'ld of sin and death
With a nature so earnest as his, he must, from
the first, have been impressed with the repre
sentations given in ‘he Old Testament Scrip
tures, of the holiness of God and the guilt ot
man, and the need of reconciliation between the
sinner and the eternal Judge. These medita
tions must have fostered in him that spirit
of moral thoughtfulness which Arnold some
where speaks of as the leading element in all
true greatness of character. While scepticism,
disjoined from a pure life, may keep the heart
forever away from religious truth, as in the case
of men like Voltaire or Byron, all true earnest
ness of thought and purpose is in the direction
of the Cross a- its final landing-place. We see,
in t he spiritual history of men like Neander, and
Chalmers, and Foster, and Arnold, that truth
and holiness bear a fain ly likeness, having the
same heavenly ancestry, and bringing the satin
dowry of eternal life. The examples of men
like these, in their search for truth, form au im
pressive testimony to the divinity of that faith
in which knowledge becomes one with life, aud
ihe highest soarings of men’s reason harmon
ize with the deepest experience of his soul.
I2IP We are indebted for the following puzzle
to the lVuusyhania Inquirer. It affords a fin -
opportunity for,those who love such things, to
exercise their wits:
THE TREE PUZZLE.
1. What is the sociable tree? 2. And the
dancing tree?
3. And the tree which is nearest the sea—
4. And the busiest tree? 5. The most yield
ing tree,
6. Aud the tree where ships may he ?
7. The languishing tree ? 8. The least selfish
tree,
9. And the tree that hears a curse?
10 The Clir.rfjologi.-t kree?Vl. The fisher
man’s treip — V rfA
12- And the tree like afr^'^Uajß?
13. Wha’is the traitor tree the tell
tale tree,
15. And the tree that is warmest clad?
16. The layman’s tree ? 17. The housewife’s
tree ?
18. And the tree that makes one sad?
19. What’s the tree that in death will benight
von ?
20. And the tree that your wants will supply?
21. And t ie tree that to travel invites you,
22. And the tree that forbids you to die?
23. What tree do the hunters resound to the
skies ?
24. What brightens your house and your man
sion sustains?
25. What tree urged the Germans in vengeance
to rise
And fight for the victims by tyranny slain ?
26. The tree that will fight ? 27. Aud the
tree that obeys volt ?
28. And the tree that n-ver stands still?
29. And the tree that got up ? 30. And the
tree tnat was lazy,
31. And the tree neither up nor down hill
-32. The tree to be kissed ? 33. And the dau
d e-t tree,
34. And wiiat guides the ships to go forth
35. The unhealtbiest tree? 36. And the tree
of the people,
37. And the tree whose wood faces the North—
-38. The emulous tree/ 39. The industrious
tree t
40. And the tree that warms mutton when cold;
41. The reddish brown tree/ 42. The reddish
bln*- tree
43. And what each must beoome ere lie’s old ?
44. The tree in a bottle/ 45- And the tree
in a log—
-46. And the tree that gives the bones pain/
4 7 The terrible tree when sciioolmaster* flog;
48. And what of mother and child bears the
name—
-49. The treacherous tree ? 50. The contemp
t'ble t ree—
-51. And that to which wives are inclined?
52. The tree that causes each townsman to flee;
53. And what round fair anch-s they bind?
54. The tree that’s entire— 55. And the tree
that is split
56. The tree half'm en to doctors when ill—
-67. The tree we offer to friends when we meet;
58. And the tree we may use as a quill ?
59. The tree that’s immortal — 60. The trees
that are not—-
61. Aud the trees that must pass through the
fire —
62. The tree that in Latin can ne’er be forgot—
and in England we all must admire—
-63. The Egyptian plague tree. 64. And the
tree that is dear
-65. And what round itself doth entwine—
-66. The tree that in billiards must ever be near;
67. And the tree that by cockneys is turned in
to wine! •
On Dancing. —Dr. Fitch, in one of his lec
tures on the uses of the lungs, and on the mode
of preserving health, says ;
“ Dancing is the king and queen of in door
exercise. It is suitable for all classes and all
ages of both sexes. It is a most elegant and
most ancient, and one of the m ist salutary.
1 do not speak of it a- dissipation, hut as an ex
ii.lerating and valuable exercise. Among th
exercises it is >ecoud to none. It i< extrem-lv
suitable for the sedentary, for invalid-*, and so:
cons util [lives. 1 have known some of the worst
eases of colisumpti Ml I ever knew cured In
and tncing alone, practised daily for many months
l'lie cure was permanent and com j lete.
It is deplorable that dancing and amuse
ments of nearly all kinds should have fallen wit
d*r the ban of clergy, and should he preached
against a* sinful. It is doubtftil whether tin
morals of mankind are benetitted by forbidding
amuocmcnts, aud it is most certaiu the health
-*f thousands is sacrificed by it. Who are those
who sink earliest into consumption among la
dies ? Allow me to say, it is those who take
h ast exercise, and refrain from all amusements,
who, at schools, at church, at home, are marked
as models; whose looks are demure, whose
walks are slow, and whose conversation is al
ways on serious subjects.
Dpjjnrtinrat.
The Booby.
A 9TORV FOR BOTB.
HERE \v{w once a man who was a* rich n< the
•>ea ; but ;w they never can t>e any perfect
happiness, in thi* world, he hail a son so idle
and go*>d for-nothing that he could not tell a
melon from a cucumber. So being unable any
longer to endure hi” folly, he nave him a good
handful of crow ns, and sent him to trade in the
Levant'; for he well knew that seeing various
coUutri s. and mixing with divers people would
awaken the genius, sharpen the judgment, and
make men expert.
Moicioiie— for that was the name of the son,
mounted his horse, and liegan his journey to
wards Venice, the arsenal of the wonders of the
world, to .embark on board some vessel hound
for Cairo. When he had travelled a .good day’s
journey, lit* met with a person who was stand
ing fixed at the foot of a parlor, to whom lie
said “ What is your name, mv lad ? whence are
yon ? and what is your trad'd” The lad replied,
my name is Lightning, 1 am from Arrow land,
and I can run like the wind.” “ I should like
to see a proof of it,” said Mod one ; and Light
ning answered, “ Wait a moment, and you
-hall see whether it is dust or flour ”
Wh.*n they had stood waiting a little while,
a doe came hounding over the plain, and Light
ning, letting her pa-s on some wav, to give her
the more advantage, darted after her so rapidly
and light of foot that he would have gone over
a place covered with Hour, without leaving the
mark of his shoe, and in four Itouuds he came
up with her. Mesione, amazed at this exploit,
asked if lie would come and live with him, and
promised to pay him royally.
So Lightning consented, and they went on
their wav together; but they had not journeyed
inanv mihs wnen they m t another youth, to
whom Mosione said, “ What is your name,
comrade? what country re you from ? and
what is your trade ?” “My name.” replied the
lad, “is ilare’s-oar ; I am from Vale-curious ;
and when I put my ear to the ground, I hear
all that is passing m the world, without stirring
from the spot. I perceive the monopolies and
agreements of tradesmen to raise tile prices
of things, the ill-otticea of courtiers, the appoint
ments of lovers, the plots of robbers, the reports
of spies, the complaints ut servants, the gossip
ing of old women, and the oaths of sailors.”
So the lad put his ear to the ground, and re
plied, “An old man is talking to his wife and
saving, ‘Praised lie Sol in Leo! I have got r and
fmm my sight of that fellow Mosione, that face
ofold fashioned crockery, that nail in my heart!
Bv travelling through the world lie will at least
become a man, and no longer be such a stupid
-impleton, such a lose-tlie day fellow, a—
“Stop, stop"’ cried Mosione, “you tell the
truth, and I believe you. So come along with
trie, for you have found the road to good luck.”
“Well and good, ’ said the youth. So they all
went <in together till they came to some people
who were build.nga large pier in the heat of the
-un. Mosione had compassion on them, and
said, “ My masters, how is it that you ha\e the
head to stand in this furnace, which is tit to
mast a buffalo ?” And one ut them answerd,
“O, we are as cold as a rose; for we have a
young mail who blows upon us in such a man
ner that it seems just as if the wet wind were
blowing.”
“ Let tn * see him. I pray, “cried Mosione. So
the ma-oii called the lad, and M isioue said to
him, ‘ Tell me. by the life of your father, what
is your name? what country are you trom ? and
what is voiir profession ?” And the lad replied,
“My name is Blow-blast; lain from Wmdy
laud; and I can make all the wind with my
mouth. If you wish for a zephyr, I w ill breathe
one that will send you into transports; it you
wish for a squall, I will throw down houses.”
“Seeing is believing,” said Mosione. Where
upon Blow blast breathed at first quite gently,
so that it seemed to he sunset baliuly breath ;
then turning suddenly to some trees, lie sent
forth such a furious blast, that it uprooted a
row of oaks.
When Mosione saw this, he took him for a
companion, and travelling oil as tar again, lie
met another lad, to whom he said, “ W hat is
your name, if i may make so bold! Whence
are you, if one may ask ? and what is your trade,
if it is a fair question.” And the lad answered,
“My name is Strongback; I am fro n \ aleiitiuo
and 1 have such strength that 1 can take a
mountain on my back, and it seems tome only
a feather.’’
“ If that be the case,” said Mosione, “you
deserve to be the king of the custom house,
and you should bechosen for standard bearer on
the first of May. But I should like to see a
proof of what you say.”
Then Strong back” began to load himself with
masses of rock, trunks of trees, and so many
other weights that a thousand large waggons
would not have carried them ; which when
Mosione saw, he agreed with the lad to join
him.
So they travelled on, till they came to Pair
Flower, tile king of which place had a daughter
who ran like the wind, and could pass over
the waving corn without bending an ear ; and
the king had issued a proclamation, that who
ever should overtake her in running should have
her to wife, but whoever was letl behind should
lose his head.
When Mosione arrived in this country, and
heard the proclamation, he went straight to the
king, and offered to run with his daughter, mak
ing tne wise agreement either to win the race,
or ”o leave hi- noddle there. But in the moru
iijor he sent to inform the king that he wa,
taken ill, and being unable to run himself, he
Would send another young man in his place.
“Come who will,’’ said Ciannetella —for that
was the king’s daughter, “ 1 care not a tig it
s all one to me.”
S j when the great square was filled with peo
ple, come to see the race, insomuch th it the
‘Hen swarmed like ants, and the windows and
roofs were as full as an egg. Lightning came out
■uni took his station at the top of the square,
iwaiting the signal. And fourth came Ciau
uetella, dressed in a little gown, and a neat and
ire tty little shoe, with a single sole. Then
:hey placed themselves shoulder to shoulder;
and as soon as the tarautara aud too-ioo of the
trumpets were heard, off they darted, running
at such a race that their heels touched their
shoulders. But Lightning left the princess
more than a hand’s breadth behind him, and
came first to the goal. Then you should have
heard the huzzaing and shouting, the cries anj
the uproar, the whistling and clapping of hand”
of the people, crying out, “Hurra! Long life
to the stranger !”
The king seeing this victory of a blockhead
bethought himself seriously whether lie should
give him his daughter. Taking counsel with
the wiseacres of his court, they replied that
without breaking his word, he might commute
the promise of his daughter for a gift of crowns,
w hich would be more to the taste of a poor log
ger like Mosione than all the women in the
world.
This advice pleased the king, and he asked
Mosione how much money he would take, in
stead of the wife who had been promised him.
Then Mosione, after consulting with the others
answered.
“ I will take as much gold and silver as one
of mv comrades can carry on his back.”
Tlie king consented ; whereupon they brought
Strongback, oil whom they began to load bale*
of ducats, sacks of patacas, large purses full of
crowns, barrels of copper money, chests full of
rings and chains ; but the more they loaded
him the firmer he stood, just like a tower. Tla*
treasury, the banks, the usurers, and the money
dealer* of the city did not suffice, and lie sent
to all the people in every direction to borrow
their silver candlesticks, basons, jugs, plates,
trays, and baskets ; and yet all was not enough
to make up the full load. At length they went
away, not laden, but tired and latisfied.
When the councillors saw what heaps and
stones these beggars were carrying off, they
said to the king that it was a great piece of fol
ly to load them with all the sinews of the king
dom, and that it would he well to send people
after them to lessen the load of the Atlas, who
was carrying on his shoulders a ship-load of
treasure. The king gave ear to this advice,
and immediately despatched a party of armed
men, foot and h>rs<*, to overtake Moioiie and i
his friends. But Hare’s-ea*. who heard this
counsel, informed his comrades; and while the j
du-t was rising to the sky from the trampling
of those who were coming to unload the rich
cargo, Blow-blast seeing th it things were coin
ing to a had pass, began to blow at such a rate,
that he not only made the enemies to fall fiat
on the ground, but he smit them living more
than a mile distant, as the North wind does
those who pass through that country. So with
out meeting any more hindrance, Mosione ar
rived at his father’s house, where he shared the
Ixxrty with ids companions, since, as the saying
goes a good deed deserves a good meed. So lie
sent them away, content and happy ; but lie
staved with his fuller, .rich beyond measure,
and aw himself an ass laden with gold.
Boys out after Nightfall.
1 hav been aa ob'erver, as [ am a sympathising lov
er of boys. I like to see them happy, cheerful, glee
some. lam not willing that they be cheated out of the
rightful heritage of youth—iud-ed, 1 can hardly un
derstand how a high-toned useful inan eaa be ripened
fruit of a boy who lias not enjoyed a lair share of tile
glad privilege# due to youth. But while I watch wi.h
a jealous eye ail rights and customs which entrench
upon the proper rights of boys. I am equally apprehen
sive lest parents, w ho are not fore-thouglnful, and who
have not liabiiu ited themselves to close observation up
on this subject, permit their son* indulgences which are
almost certain to result in their demoralization, if not in
their total ruin ; a id among the habits which I have
observed as tending most-uiely to ruin, I know of none
more prominent than that of parents permitting their
sons to be in the streets after ni htfall. It is ruinous to
their morals in ail instances—they acquire under the
cover of the night, an uuhcalthful and excited state of
mind; bad, vulgar, immoral and profane language, ob
scene pracitces, criminal sentiments, a lawless and ri
otous bearing, indeed it is in the street after nightfall
that boys principally acquire the education of the bad
and the capacity for becoming rowdy, dissolute, crimin- i
al lin n. Parents should in this particu ar have a most
rigid and inflexible rule, that will never p.-rmit a son
under any circustances, whatever, to go into the street
after nightfall, with a view of engaging in out of door
sports or meet other boys for s< cial or chance oceupa- ;
tion. A rigid rule of this kind, invaribly adhered to, j
will soon deaden the desire for such dangerous prac
tices. Boys should be taught to have pleasure around
tile family centre table in reading, in conversation, and i
quiet amusements. Boys, gentlemen’s sons, are sell J
in the street afn-r nightfall, behaving in a manner in- j
tirely destructive of all go<si morals. Fathers and
mothers, keep your boys at home, and see that you take
pains to make your homes pleasant, attractive, and
profitable'o them ; and atx>ve all, with a view of their j
security from fuiure destruction, let them not become, ,
while forming their characters for life, so accustomed l<> j
disregard the moral sense of shame, as to openly vio
late ihe Sabbath day, indulging in street pastimes, dur- j
iiig its day or evening hours. — A true friend of the
Bovs .—Phil. Expre t*.
jpjpßFtsiiL i
Fran the N. V r-enda/ Tries.
Fads and Fancies.
BV AN EX-EDITOR.
Slavery and. the Brhle—the Higher Lair.
The Bible is one of those books always talked about. |
much praised, little read, and less comprehended.— j
Probably there is not one person in a hundred that
knows what the Bible doctrine of slavery is. Even i
our preachers do not understand it—if they do, they do j
not preach it. Upon a point of this kind there should
be no misunderstanding, and therefore we give tin
Scripture doctrine for tho benefit of whom it may con
cern :
In Leviticus, chap, xxv., beginning at the 30th verse,
it is written:
“And if thy brother that dwelleth by thee, be wax
en poor, and bo sold unto thee, thou xhalt not compel
him to serve as a bond servant:
“But as a hired servant, and as a sojourner, ho shall
be with thee, and shall serve thee unto the year of ju
bilee :
“And then shall he depart from thee, both he *nd
his children with him. and shall return unto his own
family, and unto the possession of his father shad he
return.
“For th*v are my servants, which I brought fort.i
■ut of the land of Egypt: they shall not be sold as
bondmen.
“Thou shall not rule over him with vigor, but shah
‘ear ihv Gd.
“But thy bondmen, and thy bondmaids which tlmu
“halt have, shall be of the heathens that are around
about you; of these shall ye buy bondmen and bond
maids.’’
“Moreover, of tho children of the strangers that do
sojouru among you, of them shall ye buy, and of tbeir
• t l
i fa nilies that are with you, which they begat iu your
laud : and l hey shall be your possession.”
“Aud ye shall take them as an inheritance fur your
children after you, to inherit them for a possess;* n ;
they shall be your bondmen forever: but over your
| brethren, the children of Israel, ye shall not rule one
j over another with vigor.”
Ihussaiththe Lord. ITore is a full recognitam of
slavery; a full permission of slavery; a recognition of
slaves as property, as a possession and an iulieritaucw
forever. It is the ‘higher law’ we hear so much about,
or is there some higlur law than the Bible? This .viu
the direction and command of GoJ to his chosen peo
ple : it bears upon its face the word “forever.’’ VVw
do not know that God lias changed, or that the law has
ever been repealed. This nation—at least a great ma
jority of it—prole, to believe iu and be governed by
; ‘he Bible : liow then can we condemn iu our Ss<>u;b
ern brethren what God directed the children of Israel
lo do. llow inn they talk of a higher law than that
which bears the sanction of Almighty Wisdom.
lake the dilemma and meet it manfully. If slavery
is wrong now, it was always wrong. Then if slavery is
contrary to religion, it is not tile religion taught in tho
Bible : there can be no mistake on this phut. If r.
believe in the Bible, Go I authorizes slavery—slavery
as it now exists : slavery iu which the slaves and tk-ir
children were chattels, possessions, inheritanct—things
to be owned, bought, sold, and held as an inheritance
fore er. Ihe distinction between servitude for debt,
reclaiinaWe bondage, and this perpetual slavery, is clear
and well defined in tlie above passage. No law whs
! ever expressed iu clearer terms: there can be no mis
take in its meaning. It is in vain to my that the law
we have quoted is abrogated in the Chris.ian dispensa
tion. Christ came to fu.fij the law: the apostle* ob
served it. There is not the shadow of proof that cliat
tel slavery, as above established, was interfered with by
Christ or Ins apostles, or by the primitive church.—
“here then, is the “higher law?” Slavery, the Bi
i hie expressly tells us, is a divine institution. There is
no escape from this conclusion, but by deriving the xu
j fhority of the Bible. Our Southern brethren pint
themselves on that authority. They sav, ‘‘Ah in-tit u
j lion established by G'd himself, for his chosen people,
and as a part o! the domestic policy of a nation he had
founded lor his own glory and as a mode! for the world,
j uanD ‘*t be #■ oiig. God cannot condemn in us what h
j expressly commanded tor the children of Israel. What
; kVS! * fight hen cannot now be wrong. Circumstances
may alter ciise*. but the laws of God do not change.”
\V h<t answer then is there to this reasoning? Up
on what do we pretend to base a higher law than that
contained in the BibJe ? If we prove slavery a wrong,
we prove the Bible to be the teacher of that wrong, and
the Biule and sbtyefy must stand or fall together.—
I hose who repudiate the Bible may dcoouuce slavery,
but no man who believes iu the liable, and preK-nds to
be governed by iu precepts, can emi.-isjentiy do so.—
Ihe Bible dot's, and must, and will sustain slavery, as
long as it is a rule of Until and practice.
.Many of the Abolitionists, therefore, are open infi
dels. They denounce the Bible, and all churches aud
religious systems based upni it; and they are entirely
consistent in so doing, for if they admit the inspiration
and truth of the Bible, they mint admit that God i the
author of slavery. There is no escape. Thev caunut
denounce the one without denouncing the other.
But what must we think of those clergymen who
pretending to believe tlys revelation, are denouncing
slavery from their pulpits as a heaven-daring sin—the
sum of all iniquities—an outrage calling for d'Vitte re
tribution ? W liy denounce Southerners as abo .linaldy
wicked, for doing what God but a few ages ago com
manded ? \Y hat strange aud perverse inconsistency is
here, or what gross ignorance of tho very Bible they
pretend to reverence!
Admitting the Divine authority of the hunks of Mo
te-, and the Divine origin of the Jewish dispensation,
we are driven to conclude tha slavery is n<4 aa evih
that man may hold property in man, even as a posses
sion and inli'-riiunce forever; that such an institution
divine!/ appointed, must have had some good purposa
known to the wisdom of the Aimiglry. We submi,
to the candid reader whether the text quoted t.buvs
does not fully justify our comments,
Too Late,
At the time of the splendid appearance of
shooting meteors popularly known ‘as the night
when the st ars fell,’’ a somewhat ludicrous seen®
occurred at a litde town in the western part of
North Carolina. It was a quiet hut thriving
village, principally inhabited by Dutch emi
grants from Pennsylvania; hut it contained
some of the b’hoys who were a little wild, and
some of the gentler sex who were not altogeth
er tame, who excited tlie indignation of a rath
er fanatical old lady that used to preach extem
poraneously for their benefit wltenever a fit or
an unfit occasion offered. On the memorable
utghl alluded to, some of these “reprobates,”
thinking that the last hour of the world had ar
rived, commenced prating with great fervor,
and the street was filled w ith peiiit -uto engaged
in this uuu-uai practice. But the old lady,
with Hashing eyes and dishevelled hair like a
Pythoness of old, paraded tlie street", exclaim
ing, ‘Too late; too late! pravin’sgood eitoti gh,
but you’re too late! hell’s Haines is a roarin’,
and you’ll be thar in a half hour !*
‘J ins anecdote has been suggested to our mem
ory by the speeches of some of the opjioneuU
ot Mr. Fillmore’s administration. They had
maligned the President by every epithet that
Billingsgate could furnish and every expedient
that venom could supply; where a charge was
not probable they made it plausible, and devel
oped their inventive Ctcultw to an eminent de
gree, in forging iinaginary_crim.es when facts
failed to suggest any.
But when Mr. Fillmore issued his proclama
tion and message with such promptness after
the Boston riot, they were completely thrown
aback. IPs course was the course demanded
by the circumstances; it was what he ought to
have done, and it was all he could do. As he
hail clearly done his duty and in a manner com
mended by a majority of the people, the mur
tnurere were in a dismal pickle for a pretext on
which to attack Mr. Fillmore, until at last a
lucky idea came like a godsend to them, and
“they all with one consent” began to cry out
like the old woman of Lincolnton, “too lat-!
the proclamation like prayer is good enough,
but you are too late \"—E>itaw (Ala..) Whig.
rnion Meeting in fobb.
At a recent meeting in C<bb county, where the best
feeling prevailed, N. M. Odder, Ja nes F. Cooper, A.
T. Camp, anil .Jesaee Oslin, two whig# and two demo
crats, were appo'tred delegates to the Coustituiioiia-
Ul on Convention to assemble at Milledg*-vi!le At a
murfar meeting in Forsyth county, on the Ist inst.,
John L>w and VV. A Lewis, a whig and a democrat,
were ck -sen delegates. As an expression of their choice
for Governor, the following resolution, offered by Mr.
Lewis, was unanimously adopted :
‘ Resolved , That the high charaeter, talents and em
inent qualifications of the Hon. llowell Cobb, of the
county of Clarke the distinguished Speaker ot the House
of Representatives, at Washington, point to him, in the
opinion of this meeting, as the most suitable man u be
NO. 5.