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A FAMILY NIWSPAPiB--BIVGIID TO LITERATURE, SCIENCE, ART, POLITICS k GIIIRAL INTELLIGENCE.
VOL. 3.
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THE POET’S CORIiER.
For the Georgia Citizen.
To Lizzie,
nr \VM. F. WIOHTMAN.
Thou art gone from me now, thou art cone from me now!
Vmi the light of thy sweet maiden smile has departed,
And left but th“ signet of grief on the brow —
Os the sadstrickeu one thou hast left broken-hearted!
Thou art gone far away from the places so dear,
And hast left but one token of mem’ry behind thee—
That soft silken tress of thy rich auburn hair—
Alone thou hast left of thy love to remind me!
Oh! dearer, far dearer titan ruby and pearl
Are the thoughts which that ringlet will ever aw aken
’Mul cares pressing thickly and trouble's wild whirl
’Twill tell me that though I am lone and forsaken,
T.k-u lore’dsf ns oner, and that mern’ry will linger—
And play round rnv heart like a sunbeam of joy,
L’ndimmed in its lustre though time’s iron finger
All else of the past and its hist'ry destroy.
Then I’ll keep it. I'll keep it, that bright silken tre-s,
Os thy once deep affection a sorrowful token ;
And cherish it ever to cheer and to bless.
While the spell of its charm is yet strong and unbroken.
Fare thee well ’. Fare thee well! may Hod’s blessing attend thee!
And the arm of his providence guard thee from ill!
Is the prayer that my heart's deep affection doth send thee.
Though its pulse will soon cease and its Uirofcbings be still.
Siudt Grove, Ga. July 1852.
For the Georgia Citizen:
Henry Clay.
T!ie Nation weeps n gallant son,
The Statesman of the W est.
Our Harry Clay! h>s glorious sun
Has set in peaceful rest.
’Tis good to weep ; let tears be shed !
And garlands deck the grave
Os Henry Clay, the gallant dead,
The Patriot true and brave.
Ilis country’s pride,and firm defence,
In peril’s darkest night,
His fame upon an eminence
Outshines the dazzling light.
When loud the war trump called for men,
To drive the foe away,
Where was gallant Harry then,
Oh! where was Ileury (Hay?
Stand up, ye patriots, men of age !
With heads uncovered now :
And weave for Harry Clay, the Sage,
A chaplet for his brow !
Slrew flowers o’er his grave,
“Ye youths and maidens, all, to-day,
And chant the funeral dirge for brave
And noble Ileury Clav.
EMMETT,
Tort Valiev, Oa. July 13, 1552.
‘ .
Dirge for Henry Clay.
BY 0. H. W , U. 8. A.
Hist Daughters of Music, the mourners are nigh !
file Pitcher is broken, the Fountain is dry !
Tis the wail of a widow. Columbia weeps !
Tiio Last of the Kokins in majesty ekjeps!
home ! weave we a chaplet es olive attd bay,
Our harp’s on the willow. Come ! weave we a lay 2
How heavy a harden the grasshopper sings :
N* 0. wo iLc land of e’ersliadowjng wing* !
e halls that have echoed full mn-a v a time
Lu siner\ Botes of his sweetness sublime,
,v “ ye hung in mourning! that music *0 more
■ ‘.ill u.ike tram the Charmer—his charming is o’er.
To hearts that in rapture have hung on his thrill,
l ■ >ou it* soft murmurs are echoing still,
t.ieir euphony glide, and their ehorusses roll,
waves among rushes die over the shoal,
’ 1 them deepen, and startle, and angrily swell,
*■ ke a rock that is rushing down mountain and dell ;
Get diem breathe, iet them whisper advice in your ear,
‘ ! ’’ n the dark hour ettmeth and danger is near ;
’ ’ “ ym burn, let them roar when destruction is nigh,
-Li I the war-cry of Liberty rings in the sky 2
freedom ; eallingfoe word or for blow,
his bravery nerve and hi* eloquence glow ;
L-t them barn iu the bosom of sire and son
‘bile there’s Error to vanquish and truth to bo won !
,J belds. green with harvests now gathering in peace,
T ‘kc y e up the chorus that never shall cease.
Lis word o’er the ocean gave peace to the land 5
Lis voice in the Senate linked firmer the band.
u fields of long ages where glory is wrought,
rlmlrt what a harvest the Reaper has brought,
11 the breach ne’er was wanted a freemau to stand,
Y\ bile Jjfo gave its cunning to Clay's fearless hand 1
-Ynd never was needed a voice in the storm,
IY Idle his tongue with its motion and musie wae warm;
‘ broud the plough and the anvil, the compass aad loom,
10 artizans gather and kneel round kis tomb :
Leek the shrines of Religion in curtains of crape,
-Mid the temples of Learning in cypres* leaves drape ;
UQ S the porches with garlands that bloom in the
shade;
Le the scales of blind ,1 ustice in sable arrayed ;
°u altars and firesides, your domes and your doors,
Le all hung in mourning on those happy shores !
And hushed be the bugle, and silent the drum,
- o hoarse muffled notes from tbs battle-field come ;
Rut Peace, gentle Mercy, and Liberty weep
O'er the urn where his ashes, still liviug, but sleep.
Disturb not his rest till the trumpet shall sound
That calls forth the chosen God’s throne to surround!
And is there an honor, high office, or name,
One inch that could heighten his statue of fame?
The twelve thrones of Cajsar no Tully could make.
One breath of a Tully their empire could shake.
The twelve thrones of Caesar forgotten may lie,
1 And Cicero’s fame shall resound in the sky;
I he Republic's white Palace shall crumble to earth.
And the leaves of Clay’s chaplet be green in their
birth!
One age ami one country his deeds but record,
Posterity claims him lurself to reward.
Pass on with his coffin ; lead on to the tomb ;
: A nation of mourners fallow after in gloom :
I Hi* brnrM eyes shall kindle a thousand no more•
III* SWEET LIPS ARE SILENT, THEIR MELODY'S o’er.
MmuASjiAZijhgAiAiMUßßaaßgawaaw^—sim—bsm—>
a 1 8 G E b L A HY.
Written for the Georgia Citizen.
FEMALE EDUCATION.
BY aunt jenny.
“'•Tis education forms ill? common mind.
Just as the twig is bent the trei’s inclined.”
From the novelty of my subject and the ori
ginality of my quotation, the readers of the
Citizen may anticipate a rich and delightful
treat. I can only say it will be the fault of their
own too vivid imaginations if they are disap
pointed. 1 here has been a great deal said iu
this high pressure 19th century, especially by
my own sex, about ‘woman’s rights’—and could
an inhabitant of Sirius be suddenly dropped
upon our little planet, yclept Earth and could lie
lead the various effusions of the literary Aina*
1 zons upon the subject, taking it for granted he
| understood the English language and was some
what acquainted with the machinery of Ameri
[ can society — (that of the portion of Sirius in j
which ho was born and bred being somewhat
: similar) he would be induced to think the fe
minine gender of America the most abused,
unappreciated, down-trodden portion of hu
manity that ever existed ! What! not enti
tled to vote! Not allowed to make stump
speeches before an admiring and appreciative
audience! Not permitted to hold forth in elo
quent and convincing strains, which, superior
to masculine eloquence, would not fail to carry
conviction to sinners tough leather hearts, from
the pulpit! And worse than all, when striving
to free themselves a trifle from the shackles
thrown around them by tyranny and despo
! tistn of the ‘Lords of creation,’ they make a
desperate effort to assume the habiliments which
were ever their due, influenced by that great,
that noble-minded, that Spartan-hearted wo
man, Mrs. Bloomer, to be ridiculed, booted at!
to see pointed and pungent paragraphs from
pusillanimous Editors in the public prints—
columns of covert sarcasm—sneers of embodied
venom. Why, Monsieur Sirius would gaze a
moment slowly around ‘this dirty planet Earth’
with a look of mingled horor, disgust and as
tonishment. then dropping one tear of celestial:
) pity for injured womankind, he would plume
bis rainbow pinions ('tis presumed he would ne
cessarily have wings of some kind, to enable
him to fly hitherward) and hurry hence as fast
as poss ble!
But to abandon bombast and speak seriously.
While I am no advocate fur woman’s rights, in
the common acceptation of the term, including
the rightof sufferance, pulpit eloquence, the ap
propriation of coats, vests, Ac. I do advocate a
good and thorough education for my own sex t
and with all our schools and female colleges, I
cannot think this object generally achieved. As
long as girls are raised to look upon the posses
sion of a husband as the summum bonum of
eartbl V good, and spend their lives previous to
achieving that object, in the acquisition of affect
ed and unmaidenly airs, put on to attract and fas
cinate the other sex, paying by the way a ve
ry poor compliment to their sense and discri
mination, what can be expected but that men
will continue to look upon us, as the mere play
things of an hour when pretty — as excresences
upon Nature’s fair face when the converse —
and pretty or Ugly beings without intelligence
—almost as Mahomet teaches, without souls ?
When God gave woman to man as a help meet,
he intended her to be a companion and friend,
the nearest and dearest to her husband. While
he gave to man greater physical strength, and
in some respects superior mental endowments,
He bestowed upon our gentler sex a finer
sensibility (very frequently at the present
day perverted into a sickly mawkish senti
mer.talitv) a heart susceptible of devoted affec
tion, and a capability of inspiring and retain
’ ing the affection and respeet of her life-corn
panion. But to be acompanion, one must pos
sess somewhat similar tastes and sentiments,
and an amount of intelligence nearly or quite
equal. No matt of even ordinary intellectual
capacity can be contented and happy with a
wife whose mind is entirely below 7 par. A
man should have confidence in bis wife. She
should be worthy of his respect and esteem, and
i his sympathising friend. All this may be, and
! doubtless is, trite and common-place, but is
none the less true, and I think worthy of great
er consideration than is bestowed upon it gen
erally. Not long since I was in company with
three acquaintances,one of whom is a young
man ot no ordinary talent —one, who if his
energy is commensurate with Ins abilities will
one day be an honor to It is native State. We
were discussing the subject now under con
sideration, and he spoke with some bitterness
of the present system of female education. lie
said that with a few exeptions he was not ac
quainted with any young lady wlto could sus
tain Ler part in a conversation, upon a subject
of any material importance, w ith credit to her-
I s C df, and interest to her companions, and that
not being a‘ladies’ man’ and having little know
ljdge of fashionable chit-chat, lie found it the
most embarrassing position in the world, to be
placed in the society of a modernized young
lady. And, he continued, ‘not long since a friend
and myself were placed in such a position. NVe
called upon a young lady. After exchanging
the usual greetings, and being seated I made a
desperate attempt and spoke of the weather.
The blood gushed up into her face and I ex
pected every moment to see it flow from her
nose 2 I know enough of etiquette to feel a
ware that it would be impolite to introduce any
literary subject, for I felt confident that upon
ueh she could not couverse. Accordingly,
as my friend did not see fit to come to the
rescue, there succeeded a long silence. I was
abashed at having produced so much embar
rassment by my unguarded remark about the
weather! and I prayed that henceforth I might
be delivered from being expected to entertain a
fashionable young lady without any ideas iu
her cranium.’
Now it seems to me every young lady of or
dinary intellect might cultivate her talents suf
ficiently to be capable of expressing herself
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 17, 1852.
1 with propriety and interest. It seems to me
| that female education is a subject deserving the
attention of the greatest and noblest of our
land. It is the mother who forms the mind of
her child, and wo all know the importance of
early influences for good or evil. ‘The boy is
father to the man.’ Those who have been blessed
with a well educated mother, look back in after
life with thankfulness to the early teaching which
instilled into their young minds notonlv good
principles, but a desire for improvement. There
| are few children, who possessing talents not even
1 above mediocrity, may not be educated to excel
if under proper and encouraging influences. —
How very important then, that the mother, as
the first teacher, should possess a refined, culti
vated, well-balanced mind, and sufficient energy
and stability of character to carry out her plans
for the early training of the immortal souls com
mitted to her charge.
Ihe influence of Martha Washington over
the mind of her noble, God like son, is or should
be well known to every child, and many other
examples similar are well known, and multi
tudes more that have never been chronicled,
save in the hearts of grateful and worthy sons
and daughters, whose career in ‘the world’s
broad field of battle’ has been noble, influenced
by the remembrance of a mother’s admonitions
and instructions in childhood and early youth.
God has not given our sex immortal souls, and
minds of intelligence for us to fritter away ex
istence in coquetry and folly. He will, at the
last Great Day, require as strict an account
from our sex, as to the manner in which we have
used our talents, as the will of the other, and is
it not terrible to reflect that two thirds, perhaps,
of women will have only a long account of frivol
ity, coquettry and follv to render to their Ma
ker. Instead of having demeaned themselves
like rational beings, storing their minds with
information, and cultivating their moral and re
ligious faculties, so that they may have some
resources of happiness within themselves, they
will have a tale to tell their Heavenly Father,
their beneficent Creator of falsehood and de
ceit-energies wasted, talents and affections des
ecrated—having wasted life in fishing for a hus
band—and alter securing him, in gossip and
scandal, varied with a slight superintendance
(in nine cases out of ten it is no more, particu
larly at the South) of domestic affairs.
And this brings me to another branch of my
subject, which seems to chime in like the rhymes
jn ‘The house that Jack built!’ No woman is
thoroughly educated, no matter what may be
her literary attainments, who cannot properly
direct and superintend domestic affairs. It is
a very strange, though by no means an uncom
mon mistake that mothers make, to suppose
that the education of their daughters is com
plete when they have finished a scholastic course,
and they will know, by intuition, how to man
age their own household without any practical
knowledge on the subject. No man will be con
tented and happy, I care not what fine quali
ties his wife may possess, if his home is a place
of confusion and his domestic arrangements*
ill-organized. The masculine gender are very
fond of ‘creature comforts’—they delight in a
good dinner and expatiate with epicurean gus
to upon the merits thereof-—and so the arrange
ments are quietly carried, on they do not object
to a neat, tidy, clean house. Were Ia married
woman, which, thank heaven I am not, (though
I could not convince a masculine of the sinceri
ty of the declaration, if I should assort it till I
was black in the face ! but n’ importe) I should
expect the affection of my leige lord to evapor
ate in six months if I kept a house on the prin
ciples of general confusion and untidiness which
I have sometimes seen in my sojourn in this
mundane sphere. I have been in young ladies’
rooms, which were a very Archipelago, inas
much that like a frigate in full sail I was in dan
ger of being wrecked or stranded upon the nu
merious islands of clothing, et cetera, lying in
‘confusion worse confounded’ on the floor and
furniture —and what can be expected of an un
tidy, slatternly young lady although she may
emerge from the dire confusion arrayed in silks
and satins, shining with jewelry, and resplcnd
ant with powder and paint, but a careless house
keeper and matron ?
1 do not expect, Mr. Editor, to entirely revo
lutionize the whole world by my remarks, even
if they should all be read, which is doubtful,
but feeling just now in the scribbling mood,
and having reflected much upon the subject, I
have written this article—which may be like a
book, an article ‘although there's nothing in it.’
Would that I could express, properly, what I
feel so deeply, but I am conscious of my ina
bility to commit my thoughts to paper in the
manner I wish. Could I write just as I feel, I
should be content. And, perhaps, some per
son may be induced from ray crude remarks to
write upon this important subject, one who pos
sessing the talent of expressing forcibly the
thoughts which I can but feebly portray, may
call attention to it—and succeed in waking and
rousing the dormant energies of the multitudes
of young ladies whose minds need only cultiva
tion and refinement to make them ornaments
to society and meet companions for their fath
ers, brothers and husbands. God speed the
time that men will cease to say (with someshow
of reason, alas 2) ‘Women are weak, frivolous
creatures, leading the life of ephemera, with no
higher or nobler aims than the possession of a
rich lover or new bonnet. One man is worth the
whole race of womankind.’ Let man cease to
treat woman as play things. Let him show, by
bis conduct, that he wishes to raise the taste
and talent of our sex to a standard with his own,
and make her a friend and confidant, and she
will cease to be silly and vain. She will culti
vate her mind and be what God intended her
to be—man’s sympathizing friend, and com
panion. Even love , that noble sentiment im
planted in the bosoms of his creatures, by a
kind Heavenly Parent for their happiness, has
become so desecrated, that most men have
ceased to believe in its existence. They feel
that they could love were it possible to find a
woman in all respects worthy of the feeling—
one with such a mind and heart as would fit her
to be a life companion and sympathizing friend,
but being frequently disappointed in their
search for such a wife, they resign themsevesto
the conclusion that Cupid's reign has ceased,
being vanquished by cupidity, and that love
and sentiment being ‘stale, flat’ and above all,
‘unprofitable,’ they will ‘none of it’ but let in
terest be the helsman in the voyage matrimoni
al. And so they marry for ‘filthy lucre,’ live
the life of the self-immolated on the altar of
mammon, the milk of human kindness all soured
and turned to gall, very frequently becoming
petty domestic tyrants, unhappy themselves,
and a source of disquiet to those around them,
and this ends ‘the strange eventful history’ in
nine cases out of ten, in every marriage. Alas !
and are all the early hopes of youth to be blast
ed ? And is it thus that the fairy visions of do
mestic bliss which every young person indulges
in, more or less, and which with the pure fieart
•ed and ro£-ed - soujee of happiness, to fads
away, succeeded by the sullen and murky clouds
of domestic infelicity? 1 cannot believe that
God thus intended the holy estate of matrimo
ny to be desecrated.
The Self-Taught Servant Girl.
We have always admired the resolution of an
uncouth servant girl, brought up in no verv
gentle way, who went to live with a rich anil
cultivated lady. There was within her a love of
the beautiful, a dim perception of the fitness of
things, by which she determined to polish her
self, and become every whit as graceful as her
mistress. Now here was a herculean labor to
perform—a vast undertaking for a poor girl,
whose companions for years had been the pigs
and geese around her father's miserable shan
ty, with a mother whose lovefor inebriation led
her to wallow in filth, and neglect her family
for the poison of the still—a girl, whoso skin
was begrimed and tanned to subjection, and who
in all probability was doomed to labor among
pots and kettles for the residue of her life.
But that was just what she determined she
would not do, and accordingly she set herself
to work, and her first lessons were those of ob
servation.
She saw much company; unobserved she
watched their manners, some of which her na
tive good sense rejected ; the more pleasing she
‘treasured up in her heart.’
Lo! the charge! The mistrees soon sees,
bringing on the, breakfast dishes, a comely, in
teresting girl, with a careful, watchful air, her
dark looks put tastefully back somewhat ala
mode , her dress rearrayed, her answers respect
ful, and though hesitating, correct. Next she
is surprised at a modest request from the untu
tored servant, that by some means she may learn
to read. Pleased with this mark of intelligence,
she devotes a little spare time each day to the
accomplishment of this object, and her pupil is
no dull scholar.
Almost imperceptibly, by dint of care and
cleanliness, the brown skin grew fair and ruddy,
the thick locks hung in cutis, the brow devel
oped broadly, and many little elegances be
trayed themselves in motion and attiro.
This young lady, as she assuredly meant to
be, craved an hour for herself, if we remember
right, after her work was over, which privilege
she was also to retain, and in the peculiar occu
pation of which she was never to be disturbed.
It was granted ; and her mistress thought no
more of it, until some months after, when pas
sing by her room, she fancied she heard strange
voices. Curiosity prompted her to look in by
means of a trap door, and there she beheld her
‘help.’ in all the glory of fancied magnificence,
seated near a tablo holding in her hand a book,
and talking quite eloquently with an invisible
captain, whom she was honoring with her pa
tronage.
Presently she would get up, managing Iter
movements admirably, bend gracefuliv, as if
inspecting some work of art in said captain's
ghostly hand, receive a compliment with all the
careless elegance of a leader of the ton; respond
in a delicate, dignified manner, arrange her
curls with the tip of her fan ; glide across the
room with the tread of a princess, fairly bewil
dering the good lady above, who could not make
out what it all meant. Finally siic bowed the
captain out with the greatest ease imaginable;
then returning, took up Sliakspearo, and enter
tained her mistress—unconsciously of course,
with ‘To bo or not to be,’ read in a clear, musi
cal tone.
But mark tbe conclusion of these strange pro
ceedings, the lady’s son returned from his trav
els, and the very first day, not knowing who she
was, escorted the domestic home in a rain storm,
as any gallant gentleman would have done.
In the evening, he asked impatiently why his
mother’s visiter did not appear.
‘We h ave no visiter, my son,’ she replied.
‘And pray who was that beautiful creature
that 1 waited upon to this very door? Am I
bewitched? Are there fairies, yet? I certainly
in all my journeys, have not met with so agree
able and polished a lady; and here she disap
peared.’
The proud woman, in anguish, explained to
him that it was only their servant girl, and be
sought him to restrain his rhapsodies; hut he
declared that she was some divinity,and no more
adapted to the kitchen than were his mother's
porcelain ornaments to a blacksmith’s forge.—
And he persisted in the idea, married her in
spite of his mother's remonstrance—even dis
pleasure, and the haughty woman learned to be
as fond of her noble daughter, as her son was
of his gifted wife.
The Brave IHan.
There is nothing with a truly bravo and persevering
man may not accomplish. Heat and cold, mountains
and seas, and sunshine, are alike to him, when ho is
bent upon his object. lie pushes ahead, never tiring
or fainting, until hits proud design is achieved. Wheth
er it be riehes or honors, he permits no obstacles to im
pede his progress. The histories of all distinguished
men, from Alexander to Napoleon, shows that it was
perseverance that made them distinguished above their
fellow men. And you, young man, if determined in
jour course, whatever end you have in view, shall he
respected and honored. Never permit your energies
to slumber, but bo ever active in whatever field you
choose to lafeor. To lag, to stop, to doubt, to hang
your head iu fear, will prove disastrous to vour ties
interests.
“To move in doubt and fear
And tremble at the shades of even
What is it but a tomb to rear,
And stealing to it, turn from Heaven ?’
The reason why so many turn out miserable tools,
without ambition, life, or even wealth, is, their lack of
courage and fear of the world. What lias au honest
man or a man of integrity to fear ? All are bat shad
ows that look dark and forbidding before you, and these
vanish before the light of truth and generous ambition.
Let nothing stay your progress when jou are the fight
path—nothing but the strong arm of death, thea you
will accomplish you bright expectations, whilo
■** Shadows fly,
And hope gleams beauteous from afar—
A sea of glory fills the sky,
And wisdom beams iu every star.”
How to Preserve Paste.—Worth knowing.—
Every lady who keeps a scrap-book, needs to have a
little cup of flour paste at hand. How can the paste
be preserved ? A clergyman in Connecticut told me
a few 7 weeks since, that after various experiments he
tried putting the paste in an open mouthed vial or jar,
and covering the surface with tincture of camphor.
Perhaps the uncamphorated alcohol would answer as
well, hut 1 should doubt it. I have not lately met with
any little discovery of this kind which has been of more
service to me, and many of your readers may be glad
to know of it.—[Culturist & Gazette.
Rose Insects.—lt our lady readers, says the New
England Farmer, are desirous of keeping their rose
bushes free from the small green vermin that so fre
aissi!y infest ttsc, the fc’.’.owisg recydy will be fc'iiad
an affectual one : To three gallons of water, add one
peck of soot and one quart of unslacked lime. Stir it
well, let it stand for twenty-four hours, and when the
soot rises to the surface, skiin it off". Use a syringe
for applying it.
This is better than smoking with tobacco, as it is not
likely to destroy the plants.
Tbe Devil and ibe Architect.
‘ A COURIOUi LKGEND OF THE BRIDGE OF KIN*
SIEDLEN.
“Sis’ said the guide, ‘the people all prayed
the Abbot of Einsiedlen, who ruled all this
country then, to build them a bridge ; and he
advertised lor a builder. So they came from
all over Switzerland ; but when they saw how
the Reuss loured and foamed oVer The rocks,
they shook their heads and went back home
again. Only two remained.
“One was a tall handsome man in black,
and the other a poor young fellow, a very clever
mill wright, and well known in the coun
tr y-
“ We seem to be left alone here,’ said young
Christian, ‘ for ho had the same name that I
have gentlemen.’
“ So it appears,” said the tall gentleman, are
you an architect?’
“ I have only built mill-dams as yet,” replied
the other, ‘but l came to look at this. But I
cannot do it; I have studied it for two days, and
can make nothing of it; and now give it up.
If I had gotten the reward, —and he stopped
and sighed, as lie thought of the blue eyed inai
den at home, who was as poor as he was.
“It is left for me, then ?’* said the tall man.
“‘Ah, you fancy that you can do it?’
‘‘Oh, yes, I am certain ; I have done seve
rer tasks than that.’
“ And what plan have you may 1 ask?”
“I shall throw an arch simply across the
torrent.’
‘•lndeed, and when will you finish ?”
“I think l will do it this evening,” said the
tall man,carelessly.
“ Ah!’ said Christian, laughing, ‘Why, you
must be the devil!’
“ At your sen ice,” he answered politely.
“Christian looked at him but saw nothing
particular about him, except that his eyes were
very brilliant.
“ If you would like the credit, I will do the
work for a consideration.’
And what may that be, pray?’
‘‘lf you will sign this contract, giving me
your soul.’
“ Christian did not exactly like that. A cold
chill ran over him; and he was just going to
begin his prayers, when a young peasant girl
passed along the mountain singing.
“The poor young fellow thought of the sweet
voiced, blue-eyed maiden at home ; thought
too that the other was stne architect amusing
himself with his country simplicity, and haif
afraid, half laughing, he signed the contract.
“The tall man folded it up and put it in his
pocket; raised his hat politely, and disappear
ed.
“ Christian went to the cove below there,
where he passed the night. He had hall for
gotton what lie had done, and regarded the
whole as a joke, but in the morning as he
walked out to take a last look at that place,
judge of his horror when he saw the bridge
built, and his own name on it as architect.
“ He flew to the Cure, wh*re the abbot was
staying, told him all and besought his help.
“ We will do what we can,’’ said the Abbot
Gerald.’
“In half an hour afterwards there came a
knock at the door, and the tall man in black
was there and when the good monk opened it.
“Good morning,” said the former,‘you
have a piece of my property here, they tell me
Abbot.’
“Now Abbot Gerald was no more afraid ol
thedevil than a Swiss is of an Austrian.
“Hush,’ said he quietly, ‘don’t wake tho
young man ; let us talk the matter over. Come
in.’
“Thedevil glanced into the room, and saw
nothing but an old woman ; and in a bed at the
other end, a firm which he recognized for the
young millwright’s by his clothes.
“ Take a seat,’ said Abbot Gerald, and poin
ted to a chair beside the table.
“You are very polite/’ said the devil sitting
down, ‘ 1 thank you kindly;* and he noticed that
there was a chess-board on the table.
“ You play then, Abbot Gerald,” said he.
“ A little, said the Abbot,‘but it is not worth
speaking of. The chief matter is, that you can
not have that youngster.’
“Oh!” said the devil,‘we will see about
that. The contract is in perfectly good form.’
“ It is little I care about that,” said the Abbot,
‘but the scandal of the thing; and you know
that if I set myself to work you’l have a tough
time of it.’
“ I don’t think that your conduct is decent,
said the devil.
“ Not decent! you scoundrel, said Gerald, iu
a passion.
u ‘ Well, there then, I ask your pardon, I spoke
hastily ; but be reasonable now : Come; I'll
pay you for him.’
“ Two souls from my parishes,’ said the Ab
hot thoughtfully, ‘ it is too much.’
‘“Two! YVho then?’ cried Satan.
“Abbot Gerald pointed at the old woman.
“ Ah!’ thought the other, ‘ I did not know
that I had any claims upon her. But I don’t
mind her much, and I always get one game
out of two ;’ he then added aloud, ‘ I'll play you
for both, and that’s fair.’
“ (Yell, I don’t like to be too hard,” said
Abbot Gerald; ‘I agree: but it is dry work
playing chess.’
“ He touched a little bell, and a monk came
in. The abbot whispered to him :he went out,
brought in a bottle of wine, and disappeared
again.
“ Will you try some of this ?’’ said the Ab
hot.
“ I thank you,’was the answer,* l carry a
little bottle of spirit with me. Dare I offer a drop
to your lordship?’
“ We stick to our light wines here,’’ said the
Abbot drily. ‘I a:n getting too old to change.
Sit down here, you sinner,’ said he to the o!d
woman shoving her into a chair by the stove.
“ It is vour first move, and we play for this
one first.’
After you, said the devil, politely.
“ By no means, I am at home,’ said Abbot
Gerald.
“So the devil took the move, and after a
pretty rough gamo, the Abbot check-mated him
completely.
“You are strong at chess, Abbot Gerald.
You have won that one there,’ and he pointed
at the old woman.
“So you give up all claim now and forev
er?’
“ Oh, honor bright; would you have me
cheat you after so much politeness ! J yield
every inch- ElF* now far the other,’
‘“lam tired,’said Abbot Gerald, ‘ I think
that I will not play any further. I’ll give you
*he other,only take him quietly.”
“L ou are very courteous,’ said the devil, as
he walked to the bed, and tapped on the sleeper
who breathed heavily.
“ Come, get up said tho devil.
“ Humph, - ’ said the sleeper.
“ That’s not the best of good manners,’
said the other, * get up when I Lid you!’ and he
pulied away the clothes.
“ The sleeper was a huge grey pig ! with
the millwright’s clothes ranged about it; and
as Satan turned round, he saw the old woman
stripped of her mask and cloak, and show Chris
tian pale euough, but smiling.
“ That’s a shabby trick you have played me,
Abbot Gerald,’ said the devil, ‘ but I’ll batter
your bridge again.’
“ Try it,’said Abbot Gerald, laughing hear
tily, as the other flew out banging the door in a
rage.
“ The devil got half way to the place, when
he met the procession returning. They had
b'essed the bridge while he gain? of chess last
ed, and lie had no more power over it.
‘‘ It was so that Abbot Gerald tricked the dev
il.”
SCOTT A\D GRAHAM.
BY V. W. C. CLARKE.
Tu.sk—“ Dearest Mae.”
In Baltimore the Whigs agreed
Upon their candidate,
And mean that he shall be the man
To guide the Ship of State ;
He bears a name that is without
A blemish or a spot—
A patriot, hero, statesman, sage—
Who else but WINFIELD SCOTT,
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Scott, the brave and true,
Who never yet has lost the fight,
Nor will he lose it now !
Two Generals now are in the field,
Frank Pierce and Winfield Scott—
Some think that Frank’s a fighting man,
And some think he is not—
’Tis said that when in Mexico,
While leadiugon his force,
He took a sudden fainting fit,
And tumbled off his horse,
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah !
For Winfield the undaunted,
Who never in a battle-field
Surrendered, fled or fainted !
But gallant Scott has made hatmark,
On manj’ a bloody plain,
And patriot hearts beat high to greet
The chief of Lundy’s Lane :
And Chippewa is classic ground,
Our British neighbors know,
And if j’ou’d hear of later deeds,
Go ask in Mexico!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Scott and Graham true,
They are the boys to lead tho fight,
The boys to win it too!
Now, boys, we’ll go the nominees,
And whip out Pierce and King,
From Maine to California
We’ll make the welkin ring.
“We’ll give the Lnkies good Scott “soup,”
Os which so much we’ve read,
And if they shouldn’t like our soup,
We’ll give them Graham bread !
Hurrah! Hunah! Hurrah!
Whene’er the chance permits.
With warm Scott soup and Graham bread,
We’ll give the Lokies fit*.
Then let us enter on the fight,
Our cause is just and high ;
Let’s show our foes the “fuss” we raise
Will make the “feathers’’ fly.
The gallant Scott, who leads the van,
Is honest, faithful, true;
And he has got the people’s heart—
So we saj' —what say you ?
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Scott, the brave and true ;
He’s got the honest feofle's heart,
So we say— what sav you ?
Our noble Seott has never failed,
Wherever he might be ;
On Cerro Gordo's blood-stained heights,
Or in diplomacy.
He calmed the angry border feuds
Upon our Northern line,
And caused, where War’s black clouds arose,
The Star of Peace to shine.
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah !
For Scott, the brave and true ;
The man who never lost a field,
Wilt win this field for you !
Tho Locofbcos brag and boast,
And show themselves quite fierce ;
Tho’ all the capital they have
Is General Frank Pierce ;
A man dug up when all ws lost,—
Buchanan, Douglass, Cass, —
A sort of “Compromise’’ between
A race-horsc and an as*.
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah !
For Scott, the brave and true,
Who never faints on battle-fields,
But fights his battles through !
Then, boys, hurrah for Winfield Scott,
Who leads the great Whig troop,
And only takes when duty call*,
“A hasty plate of soup”
Who never counts his enemies,
And never knows a fear,
But gives his foes a raking fire,
In front and “in the rear.”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Scott, the brave and true,
Who never faints on battle fields.
Who fights his battles through !
Now if you’ll work, you gallant M bigs,
For Scott and Willie Graham,
We’ll only let the Locos tell
The place where we shall lay ‘em.
And when the “fainting” Pierce boj’s talk
Os “feathers,” day and night,
Just let them know in Scott’s war-hat
There’s not a feather white.
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah !
For Scott and Graham true.
They are the boys to lead the fight,
The boys to win it, too.
POLITICAL ITEMS.
Services of Gen. Scott. —The Cincinnati Gazette,
in reviewing the record of more than forty years’ pub
lio services of Gen. Soott, says, ‘We find that Scott
has been engaged in three wars, has been victorious
in ten battles, and three times interfered to preserve
peace, and has written several volumes on military
iwthitfeu, vvio\y fofice of Jafctrect.’
Gen. Pierce’s Battles.
‘We have before us the official list of officer*
who marched with the army under the command
| of Major General Winfield Scott from Puebla
upon the city of Mexico, the seventh, eighth,
ninth, and tenth of August one thousand eight
hundred and forty-seven, and who were engaged
in the battles of Mexico. From this list we learn
that Gen Franklin Pierce was in the battles of
Contreras, Cburubusco, Molino del Key, near
Chapultepec. near Belen, and at Garita de Be
len.’—Republic, Bth June.
To the Editors of the Republic:
Sib —ls you will examine the official reports,
you will set that General Pierce though pre
sent, with the army in the valley of Mexico,
was personally engaged in not one battle. I
refer you to his ow n reports, in the message ac
companying documents tor 1847**’8.
He fell from or with his horse on the 19th
August, (day before the battle of Contreras.)
joined with his brigade on the morning of 20th
j August, after the battle of Contreras, and fell
I from pain and exhaustion (same day) before
reaching the field of Churubusco, and, by his
j own official confession, beyond the range of the
enemy’s guns. In the next battle in order of
time (Molino del Rey) his brigade was not en
gaged. It was ordered up, but, according to
General Worth’s letter in answer to Gen. Scott's
report, did not reach that bloody field until two
; hours after the battle was ended aad the enemy
| entirely routed.
The next battle was Chapultepec and the
garitas (gates) of the city, on the same dav„
(September 13) ‘Pierce’s brigade’ was engaged
throughout the day,and with especial gallantry
and success, at Chapultepec; blit Gen. Pierce
himself was not present, having reported sick.
By his own official report, he joined his brigade
(one regiment of it) at the Garita de Belen at
j four o’clock on the morning of the 14th Sep
tember, which was after commissioners from tho
cito had notified General Quitman, command
ing at that garita, that Santa Anna had evacu
ated the city, and that resistance was ended.
Indeed, all firing had ceased the evening previ
ous.
Thus it can be proved by tlie official records,
that General Pierce, though present with tho
army, personally took part in not a single com
bat in the valley of Mexico.
It may have been bis misfortune rather than
his fault; and the fact is state! not to prove
General Pierce a skulker in epauletts; (a case
of cowardice hardly to be conceived.) but that
the claims put forth for his military services are
not well founded and indeed not equal to what
you accord to him.
I will add, what seems not to be generally
understood, that General Pierce joined the army
for the first time at Puebla—l think the day
before the first division marched from that
place for the city of Mexico.
He resigned his commission and came home
in the first train that left Mexico after the oc
cupation by our troops of that city —some eight
or nine months before the war was ended.
ONE WHO BAW AND KNOWS.
Hon. Wm. Rufus King.— This genileman is
now the Democratic candidate for the Vice Pres
idency. As ‘such, the people have a perfect
right to be made acquainted with his antece
dents; and it is peculiarly the province of tho
public journalist to advise his readers in rela
tion to aspirants for high station. We intend
to do so, faithfully and fairly, during the ap
proaching canvass. We shall ‘nothing exten
uate, nor aught set down in malice,’ in regard
to the opposition candidates, no matter what
course our Democratic cotempararies may de
termine upon pursuing, and certainly out-<riv
ings from some of them indicate that they will
accomplish their ends, if possible, without re
ference to the weans. We may regret this, but
it shall not cause us to swerve from our settled
purpose.
We have before us a few extracts from a cer
tain publication by Mr. King, which we submit
for the consideration of that portion of the De
mocracy, best known as Fire-eaters, who rallied
so vociferously in this State, not long since,
under the banner of Mr. Soule, and upon which
detestation of the Compromise, and declaration
of the right of Secession, was conspicuously
emblazoned.
Tho Secessionists, as they were known in
Mississippi—the Fire-Eaters, as they were called
in Alabama, South Carolina, etc., and the Sou
leites in Louisiana, all inveighed, in unmeasur
ed terms, against the bill abolishing the slave
trade in the Distriot of Columbia. They pro
claimed it to be a monstrous outrage upon the
rights of the South,—the entering “wedge of in
terference with slavery in the States—an abo
mination which no Southerner could touch
without being defiled’ But what said Mr. King?
Let us see. In tho publication referred to, ho
spoke as follows concerning the bill abolishing
the slave trade in the Federal District:
“At an early period of the first session of tho
last Congress, I declared, in my place in the
Senate, that I stood ready, at any time, to au
thorise the breaking up of those slave marts in
the midst of the city—offensive as they were to
decency, prejudicial to health, and, in many re
spects, shocking to humanity.”
Quitman, Davis, Soule & Cos. pronounced
the lexas Boundary bill an unrighteous act of
spoliation upon the South—ia fact, they could
hardly find words to express their indignation.
What said Mr. King ? Here is his language :
“The clamor which has been
the measure, ‘that slave territory had been sur
rendered to freesoil,’ has no foundation in fact.”
The same parties pretended such an immense
amount of indignation Ht the Territorial Bills.’
embraced in the Compromise, that they could
scarcely contain themselves. They declared
that the South was robbed and plundered, and
that she should no longer submit to such un
righteous oppressions. Listen to Mr. King;
No territory has been surrendered to freesoil,
unless the people of Utah and New Mexico
when they form a constitution and apply for ad
mission as States, think proper to prohibit sla
very ; and for the unrestricted exercise of this
right, we of the South have always contended.”
Soule, Davis, McDonald, Quitman, and the
orators and organs of secession, generally, in the
South, were loud, long, and incessant, in their
proclamations of the constitutional rights of a
State to withdraw from the confederacy, when
ever sLe might deem proper, Hear Mr. King:
I am not, however, prepared to admit, that
the States possess, either the constitutional or
the reserved right to secede from the Union.”
hrom the foregoing it will be seen that Mr.
King differed, in toto, from the leaders of the
late Southern Rights party. Twelve months
have hardly elapsed, since ho who entertained
such sentiments was openly denounced as un
true to the South! What a change has come,
over the spirit of their dream. He is now sup
ported by the very men who were fiercest iu
ibeir c; Cbmyro’miie 43d
NO. 15.