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A fAIKY NEWSPAPER,--BIYOTID TO LITERATURE, SCUM, ART, POLITICS k GENERAL INTELLIGENCE.
VOL. 3.
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mar 27 Macon, (ia.
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THE POETS CORNER.
Woman’s Rights.
[The following song, from the pen of a lady, was sung at
the anniversary dinner of the St. Andrew's Society rs .New
York. It is a pleasant satire upon one of the most amusing of
the thousand “isms” of the day.]
Though man creation’s lord we call,
King—President—and a’ that,
By Woman’s might his power shall fill,
llis pride of place, and a’ that,
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Fair Woman’s rights and a’ that.
The sex tho’ weak, can sharply speak,
A tongue’s a tongue, for a’ that.
M n long have wanton'd at their will,
lu congress, camp, and a that,
But when their posts brave women fill,
A cure will come for a’ that,
Fur a’ that, and a’ that,
King Solomon foresaw a’ that
And in his book, whoe'er will look,
May find a note of a’ that.
Men have too long usurp’d the sway,
Ta’eli Lion’s share, and a’ that,
There’s not a go-se in Syracuse,
But tells the ganders a’ that,
For a’ that, and a’ that,
‘'Strong mental light,’’ and a’ that,
Shall pilot wonmu on her way,
To wondrous spheres, and a’ that,
O what a world will open, when
Fatr ladies volts, and a’ that,
Aiid female generals lead tlie;r men
Through showers of shot At’d a’ that,
Yheir minds .on high, if hile fly,
Js'o thought* o/ hoipe, or a’ Unit,
While husband mild rocks screaming child,
Sweeps up the hearth, and a’ that,
f) r w hen in hospitals they clip
IS’orves —sinews—veins, and a’ that,
■avails the pulpit—guide the ship —
Breach doctrines, law, ul a’that,
For a’ that, and a’ that,
“ High Liberty, ’’ and a’ that,
in which poor man, since time began,
ll:is toiled and moiled, and a’ that.
P could they change, for one short year,
And take a spell ’’ at a’ that,
No more of “lotty types’’ we and hear,
P( “ War ld's applause ” and a’ that.
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Pond sighs for home, and a’ that,
Where ne’er again should rise the strain
Os Woman’s Rights, and a’ that,
The Bloomer guise in exile laid,
7he pants—the kilt, and a - that,
To be in after ye. rs survey’d
As moon struck mad, and a’ that.
For a’ that, and a’ that,
The monster hat arid a’ that,
Might still deserve a use to serve,
In Masque—or iarce, and a’ that.
But woman's rights, and rapping sprites,
I'or—Davis—Fish and a’ that,
E’en washing Darkies into Whites,
lias had its day and a’ that.
The cry is still for something new,
More wild and strange than a’ that,
And soon be sure’twill meet the view, —
New Yolk's the place for a’ that.
IHI SC E LLA NY,
Thoughts and Doings of a Housekeeper.
BY FRANCES D. CAGE.
Hi! ho ! hum ! 1 suppose I must get up ;if
I dont’t Biddy won’t get that wash-fire going
■n season. But O, what hard work it is uow-a
days to get up. I am old and stiff —Well,
v ell, I’m not so young as 1 was twenty years
a go ; but what of that l I hope piy years have
been of service, and my elasticity has not gone
for evil. How beautiful that robin sings on the
peach tree ; poor fellow ! it is cold this rpqrning
j and the snow lies upon his perch ; but It is note
I s as gay and cherry as ip the balmy spring
morning of last week. The birds never grutiir
i Lie or make discordant notes, and they never
fail t Q shake off tfiejr dropsy slumbers with the
i ars t beams of sunshine.
lhank thee, dear bird of mipe, for thy me
lodious hint, that if is time to get up; so away
! w ith morning reveries.
Ha! ha! Ponto : always ahead of me; —
good fellow ! And I stooped down and patted
, bts coal-black head, and he frisked his joy a
round me as if we bad been separated a ye.tr,
; Inst,j ad of only one night-watch. Down, Pon
■°> down ! let me tie my shoes and go to mv
work. b j
Well, Biddy, have you got the wash-fire
started in the back kitchen ?’
I have, ma’ma.’
J hat’s right. You did not get home last
la 'ma; it was too dark intirely to be
j a . ef ing up the brae, my luve, and so I was
g that Diver a bit you’d care if I tarried
below, barring I was Lome in season in the
mruing for the work.’
Ha, Biddy, that crimson glow upon thy
young cheek tells strange tales. It was not the
climbing the brae in the daik, all alone, that
kept you down at Paddy Evan's. Some loving
Dennis from thy own green isle, has tempted
thee, and thy eyes are dim with the late uiglit
watcli, and the tremulous sigh breaks up front
thy heart. Thou art human, Bid.lv, and it is
human to love ; and maids in the kitchen have
hearts as softly impressible as maids in the par
lots, and as pure, too, for aught I know. Bid
dy did not bear my thoughts.
’Boil the praties with the skins on ma’am?’
‘Certainly, child; I do not think they are
ever so nice and sweet as when boiled with the
skins on. \\ ash them nicely, and cut out care
fully all the defective parts, and boil th**m in
clear water; but be sure, Biddy, not to let them
boil too long—turn ••ff the water as soon as
you can put a fork through them easily.’
‘And if the young gintlemeu are not ready
for them, then what’ll I do?’
‘Let them set in the kettle, on the top of the
stove, with the lid tightly closed over them ;
it will not hurt them much to stand a few min
utes.’
The cherry-cheeked maiden went her way
as if site had learned something new—and may
be she had, for though the boiling of a p<>ta
toe seems to be a veiy simple thing, it’s not
half the girls, or women either, that take pains
to do it right.
But I declare those bovs arc not up \-et.
•Will!’ # ‘
‘Ma’am !’
‘Come down ! it’s time you was up.—Wake
John and Henry and George. Come, now;
1 | • O 11
don’t go to sleep again.’
‘ We icill /’
Pshaw ! the fellow is so s’eepy be does not
know whether he is saying yes or no. I used
to be just so myself, and I never go to the
door to call my own children, but l think of
my own dear mother that is gone. My mo.
ther!—how often I think of her! When!
sweep, when I wash dishes, make bread, even
when I turn over the slice of meat in the dish
—I think of her and her gentle love, and pa
tient teachings to her wayward child. I, too,
must strive to be patient.
‘Biddy, Biddy ! it’s time the meal was over.
Th ere, you may take hold of the washing now.
I will get the breakfast on the table and attend
to these little matters, and give you a helping
hand by-and by.’
‘And thanks to ye,’ answered the cherry-lip,
‘it’s not often the likes of ye goes into the wasu
tub.’
Poor thing! she thinks that her fate is hard
er than mine, tlieugli L have two cares to her
one —but how thankful 1 am that I know how
to get up in the morning and get breakfast,
know how to do it myself, and know when it
is done right, llis glorious to feel independent
—to know my happiness and comfort and that
of my husband and children, is not entirely in
the hands of a Biddy, and that if she refuses
to buttei the toast, or clear the coffee, I can do
it myself and thus save the murmuring and
discontent of the hou-ehold in spite of he .
Only think of it all ye who curl up your lip at
the insignificance of a house-keeper, lnsignifi
canoe indeed ! Here are fifteen souls under
this roof. Suppose Biddy had all the washing
to do, and the breakfast to get, too. Biddy
would be in a hurry—led impatient —vexed
perhaps—that she alone was the busy one.
The coffee would not be cleared, the pork badly
cooked, the potatoes spoiled, Ac. Then hus
band olid sons are disappointed, out of humor;
stomachs out of gear, and tern pus in unison;
and they go away to the workshop or office,
speak harshly to neighbors, crusty to custom
ers ; grow nervous, spoil a job. get info a f <-t
and Come home to dinner in a fever; look Cold
ly on wife, spurn the baby, and grieve all
hearts, all because wife and daughter could not
get up early and help B.d ly get the b eakf.i-t.
I’m glad the robin woke me: glad 1 know lew
to woik.
‘Why, girls, girls, you are up 100 late; h]e>s
you ! you don’t know how much you lose by
indulging this last half hour in bed. You must
get up early it you would have a foil measure
of beauty—bright eyes and rosy cheeks. I
was just thinking how happy’ getting “p ’*■
good season and looking to family comforts
w ill make us a 1 !. Oiilv think, dear, how nice
!o have everything right when we all .-et down
to our morning meal—coffee clear, not a biscuit
too brown, steak in order, every [date, knife
and fork in its place; smiling faces, grateful
lieaits, and pleasant mirth, not a complaint, not
a murmur, and all go away w ith the conscious
ness sitting like a singing bird among the fiesh
green leaves of family affection, warbling a
sweet melody, that they are loved and cared
for. O! if there is a thought that will make a
man cheerful, kind, generous and honest, it is
to know that he has a tidy, careful, industrious
wife and children at home- If such a man can
le loved—Minnie, takedown the toasting fork,
dear, and toa.-t your pa a slice of bread—never
mind the bovs, they are voting and can eat
bread without toasting.— Always think of your
father, child ; look to his comfort, morning, nomi
and night, that the blessings of his old age may
fail upon you. Nettie, love—Ah, ha!—here is
my baby—‘No!’—Yes you are, if six years
have curled your little pate —come, kiss me
now ; pretty big to ki*s, ain’t you ? There, let
sister Nettie wa.-lt you while mamma takes up
the breakfast. Tommy, get the chairs round
the table—call the family.’
Very Rich.— A correspondent at Ba ksville
Ky., says :
Mu, Editor: I think the following too good
to be lost. A staunch democrat in this neigh
borhood, during the Mexican war was called
upon to pray at a regular church meeting, upqn
which lie perpetrated the usual form upon such
occasions, with this addition; “Oh, Lord, be
with our army in Mexico, whether it be right
or whether it be wrong, bless it, We of the
democratic party are charged with making a
war for conquest; but we believe it to be a war
of defence. But, oh. Lord, we would not enter
into argument of the subject before you, but
for father particulars would refer you to the
President's Message.”
This was brought to my mind by hearing
the same brother before an Association, a few
days since, make the following speech :
“I would urge upon you, brethren, the tak
ing of the Western Recorder.’’ turning to the
delegation from a church in Tennessee —“and
you brethren, ought to take it, too, as the in
terests of the church in Kentucky and Tennes
see are very closely allied, and will become
much more so upon the completion of the Dan
ville and McMinnville railroad, which I pray
God will not be long, as I have about fifteen
thousand dollars involved in that enterprise’-
Western Recorder,
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY ?jh f&53.
A < ase of Conscience.
BY A J’HYsSICIAN.
Physicians now and then see droll tilings. A
fit of illness has sometimes fine effects upon the
conscience. A sick bed is the best possible
stimulus to one’s reflective powers—that is, it
one happens to possess any. 1 have known
many strong men, had had led the lives ot
beasts ot prey, quake like very cowards when
their last hour drew near. lam glad of it. It
the villain and the atheist could die with the
calmness of a Christian, where would be the
moral ? But I was going to teil a story —not
a story, a fact, upon my honor. It occurred
only the other day.
There dwelt in this city, some two years
since, an old gentleman of the name of Wid
th ers. He was very rich, and the father of a
large family who had a right to his wealth w hen
it should please God to take him. But old
Mr. \\ hithers, at the age of eighty-five, had a
fancy for a second wife; and conceived a re
gard tor one of his daughter’s maids, an impu
dent baggage, and to the infinite chagrin of all
those who had the honor of being connected
with him, married her. She soon, as might be
expected, ‘took on airs,’ and fomented a quar
rel between Mr. AVhithers and his children,
when the old man eventually disinherited, and
expelled from his house. He made a fresh will,
and settled everything upon the impudent bag
gage alluded to just now.
Shortly afterwards he was taken alarmingly
ill, and 1 was sent for in great haste. I had
heard all the particulars of his courtship and
wedding, and happened to be intimate with se
veral members of his family, at whose misfor
tune I felt seriously grieved. Well, I went to
see the old gentleman, and found lie had not
two days to live. His constitution was break
ing rapidly. He looked in my face, and read
liis doom there. He asked me if I had no
hope of his recovery. I shook my head, and
begged if lie had any little worldly matters to
arrange, he would not neglect them. He said
all was arranged.
‘Would you not wish to see your children?’
Here that puss, his wife, who was standing
by the side of the bed, stuck her arms akimbo,
and said that it was not Mr. Whither’s wish or
intention to have his last moments made un
pleasant by any interview of the kind; and for
lier part she would rather the subject was drop
ped. I took a savage pinc!i of snuff, and look
again at Mr. Wliithers. He said lie wished to
die in peace with everybody ; but eventually
decided upon seeing no one, save myself and
his wife.
‘Perhaps you may have no objection to a
little conversation with a clergyman,’ I was be
ginning to add.
‘Balil’ cried Mr. Wliithers, turning his back
suddenly upon me, and upsetting all my snuff'.
The next morning I drew a chair to his bed
side again, and examined his symptoms atten
tively. The prospect of death terrified him,,
and pressing iffy hand, begged* that I would
exert my utmost in his case.
‘J have already done that, my dear sir,’ said
I, ‘and we must leave the issue tit fiie hands ot
Him without whose permission, we are told,
not even a sparrow falls to the ground—l can
do no more. Your conscience is so perfectly
at rest, too, that I can hope for no amelioration
of the symptoms. I merely allude to that
matter, because it sometimes happens that a
weight upon a person’s conscience, when his
body is emaciated, has a tendency to pull him
stiii lower; whereas, on the contrary, I have
known instances of—of—but this has nothing
to do with the present. You are—excuse me,
if it looks like flattery—one in a thousand.’
A movement of the bed clothes.
‘You enjoy the respect of all around you.’
A groan.
‘You are the idol of your family.’
More groans.
‘You nave been an affectionate parent to
them.’
Great excitement
‘.A better father, a more exemplary man, a
perfect Christian—stay, my dear sir, you must
not get up —have the goodness to draw that
ieg in again. If 1 can do anything for you,
say the word.’
‘Send for my lawyer.’
‘I would rather not. I think him a rogue;
he would do you no good, believe me.’
‘Send for another, then —any one whom you
please.’
1 had a brother-in-law in the profession, and ‘
ran for him. He seized his blue bag, we jump- |
e l into a coach, and reached Mr. Whither’s
house before the old gentleman fell asleep again,
or had time to change his mind. My brother
in-law was a good-humored little dumpling of
a man, and with a system of doing things pe
culiar to himself. He planted a table by the
bedside, put two chairs, one for me, and the
other for his own use, drew some documents
from the blue bag, nibbed his pen, plumped it
to the bottom of the inkstand, and went thro’
the preliminaries usual to a business like the
one on hand. At this stage of the proceed
ings, however, Mrs. Wliithers made her appear
ance, with an air; whereupon my brother-in
law pushed his pen suddenly into the inkstand,
threw himself back into the chair, twirled his
thumbs and hummed a tune.
‘Why do you hesitate ?’ asked Mr. Wliithers.
‘We are not alone, my dear sir; excuse me,
we are not alone. I like—l enjoy the society
of ladies (my brother-in-law pulled up his col
lar and trimmed his hair) —I delight in the
sex; but—pardon my weakness, my dear sir—
business is business ; with a lovely and fascina
ting creature like your wife in the room, I should
never be able to confine myself to —to—in fact,
I—you understand me. perhaps, for really— ’
‘Charlotte, have the goodness to leave us,’
murmured Mr. Wliithers.
My brother-in-law bounced from his chair,
and, advancing in the most insinuating manner,
offered the lady his arm (she appeared moved
by this gallantry,) stuck his small crop of hair
up in a -steeple upon his head, and, winking
humorously at me over his shoulder as he went,
led Mrs. Whithers to the door, the key of which
he turned gravely, and then walked in a bouy
ant way back to his chair. Business was now
proceeded with in earnest.
‘To Mary, my eldest daughter—what did
you say, sir ?’ he .asked.
‘All my free-hold property in Wall street,
consisting— ’
‘Yes, yes, never mind that; I will arrange
the particulars. Very good ; then corues the
farm and the land at Hoboken.’
‘To Caroline, my second daughter, provided
that she has the old well (for I tumbled down j
in once, and had to be hauled up in the bucket) i
filled, and a pump substituted in its place.’
‘Very good ! and now to little Agnes, with
the golden hair and dark blue eyes ’
‘My four houses at Brooklyn, facing the riv- I
er side, together with all my jewelry and plate.’ ,
‘Yes, just so. Now, then, comes Tom, whom j
you directed me to leave till the last. A noble j
boy, Tom—know him well—a promising lad —
very good for killing cat. Five thousand I
think yon said, and all the horses.’
‘Stay ; he called me au old curmudgment.’
‘Well, then, we can make it six thousand,
and throw in the old family carriage. Now, as
regards this house; to your wife, if I did not
misunderstand you —and was it two or three
hundred a year, for life, together with die resi
due—hum—ha—yes —after my just debts shall
have—that will do, thank you. We will have
it preperly drawn out and attested at once— ’
And here the anecdote, which has reached
to a greater length than I had intended, may
end. The old gentleman lived four and twenty
hours after lie had made his will, and the fami
ly are now enjoying die property.
From the New York Independent.
A Boston Notion.
Boston is a city of notions, everybody knows.
America can show no other city so full of ma
tured systems, useful contrivances, and odd con
veniences as this same Boston. The city max
im seems to be that ‘there’s a best way of do
ing all things.’ In public and in domestic af
fairs the ‘solid men of Boston’ are not content
with simple achievement, but they must have
achievement by the methods.
The latest illustration of this is their scienti
fic way of giving a fire alarm, and calling out
and directing and guiding their fire department.
A ve*y simple matter, one would think, to
raise the window sash and shout Jii-er two or
three times, and leave the alarm to spread, —
Every villager knows how to pull a bell rope,
and ring till lie’s tired. Every New Yorker
knows how to count the booming strokes of the
big bells as they tell off the district number.
Avery simple thing! One way is just as good
as another as long as a rousing alarm is started.
By no means, these Boston men have found
out a best way.
If your house takes fire, and gets past do
mestic control, and you feel it necessary to ap
peal to the municipal authorities for help, do
not be at all excited or alarmed. Do not make
yourself red in the face, and hoarse with shout
ing. Put on your hat, and run to yonder cor
ner where you see that little iron box fastened
up against the wall; step into the store, ask
quietly for the key, adding, ‘My house is on
fire,’ by way of apology for the intrusion ; now
unlock the little iron door, and, remembering
that the longest way round is sometimes the
shortest way home, obey the inscription and
‘turn six times slowly.’ Your responsibility is
ended. You’ve done all you need to. Boston
will take care of your house. Shut to the lit
tle door. Hurry home, or the engines will be
there before you (
Every bell in the city, and several more across
the water, are te'li people where you live
and that your ho’ <t. >on fire. In other parts
of the city, met o *'/’ glazed hats and brass
trumpets, may i. >•/.•.. > running to these samej
little iron boxes ; they seem to whisper a mo
ment, then the)- listen, and then they look very
knowing, and slap the door to ; and here they
come, all pell inell to your help. llow much
time has elapsed since you wanted help ? Per
haps three minutes. There is a best way of
giving an alarm, that’s a fact.
But how was it done ?
That little iron box you opened was a tele
graph station ; you can see the wires where
they come down through those two iron pipes,
into the box. The crank you turned is merely
a contrivance that enables an inexperienced
person to send the only message ever sent from
this box —its own number. Just so a hand-or
gan enables the grinder to play one tune well,
even though he be no organist. You turned
it six times. Once would have been enough,
but six times over, and every time the same
number, there could be no mistake. The cen
tral office knew in an instant of your distress.
Yes, but how did that make the bells ring
all over the city, and East Boston too? Do*
they keep a sexton at every bell rope, all the
time, ready to pull when any body telegraphs?
No. That would be full as bod as the New
York system of keeping watchmen up in the
fire towers, on a perpetual look out. That
would not be scientific enough for a ‘best 1 way.
But you know a church clock strikes the hours
without any help from the sexton—except to
wind it up. Just so the bells are rung for fire;
in every steeple there is a machine like the
striking of a clock. These machines will strike
several hundred blows each with their heavy
hammers by being wound up once. When
you sent off your dispatch, it went direct to a
third story room on Court Square, and was
read by a man whose business it is to attend to
such messages. From this same room lie can,
by touching a key, send by another set of wires
a current of galvanism to every steeple in the
city. If you look, you can see these wires en
tering every steeple that holds a good bell.—
When this galvanic current passes into the se
veral steeples, it circulates in each around a bar
of soft iron, which instantly becomes a power
ful magnet, strong enough to lift the detent that
keeps the striking machines from running.—
Now these machines are made so that they
would strike one blow and stop, unless the
magnet keeps the detent back and leaves the
wheels unlocked and free to run. So this man
in the little third story room by the Court
House (he’ll show you how it is done if you
call upon him, for he is very courteous to visi
tors.) can, by pressing the proper knob or key,
make these heavy bell hammers strike any
number he chooses. And he made them strike
the number of your ward.
The foreman of every fire company has a
key to those useful little iron box.*s, and so
when he has got to the ward signified by the
hells, he run® to the nearest box, and sends a
private signal to the man in the Court Square,
asking just where is the fireV and then he lis
tens while the answer comes back in little taps,
one , two. three, four , (fee., till he learns the num
ber of the verv box you opened when you gave
the alarm in the first place. Every box has its
own number. The bells tolled the fireman
what ward, and the telegraph taps whispered
what station the alarm came from.
I see. But it is worth all this trouble of
wires and machinery, and boxes and batteries ?
Yes, indeed. Five minutes at the beginning
of a fire are very precious. But oftentimes, so
rapid is this system, an alarm will be given,
bells rung, boxes consulted,fire found, hose pro
cured, and screwed to a Cochituate fire plug,
and the fire extinguished, ere the family in dan
ger are well awake. Many a time, the first
tiling a man knows of his danger by fire, is
that his room is flooded with water.
Butthis municipal telegraph is used for more j
purposes than one. In case qf riot, the police i
captains can send for help to head quarters. — j
To catch an absconding thief by setting guard j
at every railroad and steamboat can be done in
five minutes. Then too, very soon all the city
clocks will be hitched together by these wires,
and all of them go by one central pendulum,
accurately, five hundred clocks alike to a sec
ond !
Go it, Boston! We shall soon hear of new
er notions still. The next move will be intro
duce into every first class house city time as
well as city water and city gas. Telegraphic
time wires will be introduced just now sis the
water pipes and gat fixtures are. What a mil
lennium of punctuality! Twenty thousand
clocks ticking together! Yes, and next we
shall hear of a refinement in the fire system. —
Phillip’s annihilators will be built into the walls,
their nozzles just peeping out into the room.
Convenient wires will be arranged so that a
man waken at midnight by a stnell of fire or a
red light in his room, will only need reach out
his arm to the fire knob and pull it ‘six times
slowly,’ and instantly that wakeful, watchful,
handy man on Court Square, will touch his
wires, not to frighten sleep from all the city
with his dinging hells, but quietly he’ll touch
the wire, and smash go the acid bottles in the
ambushed annihilators ; phis, squiz, fush-sh-so,
rushes out the hmnid, fire-destro ing, life-pre
serving vapor. The unseasonable fire surren
ders and goes out. But long ere this, the solid
man has rolled himself back into bed again,
tucked the blanket snug about his chin and
fallen asleep blessing the best, the very best, the
Boston way of putting out fires.
The Model Baby.
BY FANNY FERN.
It never wants to nurse when mamma has on
her best dress, that fastens behind.
It wears but two clean frocks a week.
It lias no objection, when lying on its back in
the cradle, wide awake, to have a dozen flies
walking over its face in different ditec!ions,
and doesn’t get mad because it can’t tot them
; in live right spot with its little fat, useless
i hands.
j It never goes into fits when the large black
cat jumps into the foot of the cradle, and stands
! whisking her tail round, and staring at it with
’ her great green eyes.
I It is not necessary for visitors who wish to
I tend it, to dress in oil cloth or India rubber, or
to hold its hands to prevent their eyes from l>e
: ing clawed out.
It knows the difference between Valencien
ties lace and imitation, and never lays profane
| fingers on the former.
If it is taken to the common by Peggy, the
; nurse, and she meets John (as agreed upon)
i and puts the baby on the grass, whil-t they
J ‘cast sheep’s eyes’ lovingly, it never interrupts
| the thread of their discourse, though half an
I hour since it rolled over on its fa>e, has been
snuffed at by the dogs, and bad a dozen b'ades
i ot glass or more tickling its nose all through
i that interesting period. Its patience is still un
! exhausted, on their march homeward, when
,'Peggy, in a ‘brown study,’ lays it over her
right shoulder, (it should have been over the
i left) quite uncunciuu-- tliat the sun is scorch
! ine its e3 - es out.
” hen it returns home, and visions of a‘land
| overflowing with milk’ begin to float through
j its brain, and mamma is in the parlor with com-
J pany in full dress, and can’t think of being bored
to nurse, and Peggy, thinking of John, and
j hiving her ease as well a her betters, slyly ad
ministers a dose of paragotic— it resigns itself
| to its fate without any signs of discontent what*
! ever.
It is aho enough of a Spartan to make no
objection to being male a living pincushion
and never think of remonstrating, though the
pin has been working it- way into its shoulder
ever soice it was dressed in the morning, re
mains undisUii bed until it cutties off with the
dress at night
Last ly—its crowning excellence is that it never
wakes when papa comes to bed, but stays in
crib until morning.
Mr. Webster’s Will.
The following document, we doubt not, will
lie pursued with the greatest interest. What
ever relates to Mr. Webster can never excite
am lint feeling* of the liveliest curb sity, A
will is, from its very nature, an object of inte
rest, “ lien left by the humblest person, but
• hat which is the last relic of a great man, and
the greatest, in many respects, of his time, pos
sesses a transcendant interest. Such docu
ments often afford the very best key to a man’s
character and li’e ; fur it is never made in anv
but the most solemn frame of mind, and often
when the last hours ot existence are sadly and
slowly turning their funeral voices to the tomb.
W e give the Will, word for word, from the
Boston Courier:
IN THE NAME OF ALMIGHTY GOD :
I, Daniel Webster, of Marshfield, in the Coun
ty of Plyrnou h. and Commonwealth of Mas
sachusetts, Esquire, being now confined to my
house w ith a serious illness which considering
my time of life, is undoubtedly Critical, but be
ing nevertheless in the full possession of all my
mental faculties, do make and publish this my
last Will and Testament.
I commit tny soul into the hands of tny
heavenly Father, trusting in His infinite good
ness and mercy.
I direct that, my mortal remains be buried in
the family vault at Mush field, where monu
ments are already erected to my deceased chil
dren and their mother. Two places are mark
ed for other monuments, of exactly the same
size and form. One of these, in proper time,
is to be for me, and perhaps l may leave an ep
itaph. The other is for Mrs. Webster. Her
ancestors, and all her kindred, lie in a far dis
tant city, My hope is, that after many years,
she may come to my side, and join me and oth
ers whom God hath given me.
I wish to be buried without the least show
or ostentation, but in a manner respectful to
my neighbors, whose kindness has contributed
so much to the happiness of me and mine,
and for whose prosperity I offer sincere prayers
to God.
Concerning my worldly estate, my will must
ba anomalous and out of the common furtp, on
account of the stale of my affairs. I have Lwo
large real estates, liy marriage settlement.
Mrs. Webster is entitled to a fife estate in each,
and after her death they belong to tny heirs.
On ihe Franklin estate, so far as 1 know, there
is no incumbrance, except .Mrs. Webster’s life
estate. On Marshfield, Mr. Samuel Frothing
liam has an unpaid balance of a mortgage, now
amounting to twenty-five hundred dollars. My
great and leading wish is to preserve Marsh
tiel(fi J I can, in the blood and name of my qwn
family. To this end, it must go in the fi st
place to my son, Fletcher Webster, who is here
after to he thp immediate prop of my house,
and the general representative of ntv name
and character. Iha ye the fullest confidence in
his affection and good sense, and tfiat he will
heartily concur in anything that appears to be
f>r the best.
I do not see under present circumstances of
him and his family, how I can make a definite
<.*, on 1,. r
’fere, to p, lt l*yomJ tisli ft*- I |*n
pose, tiiei, ‘ io }*. into tlm
liamls of Trustees, * *>v tbell)
a9 exigencies may n quiK > 1
\i ,r , , i s b<*en lo me a
M\ aneolionatf wile, who in*. , ,
source • I so much u tjrpin >s. ruu-t b \’
provided for. C*ie nnnt be taken that slie im
some i.aonabe i c me. I mike lliis Will
upon tile faith of vv ai lias been said to me by
friends, of nvaiis which will be found ‘ocarry
I out nil reasoiia’d wi.-hes. hi* best that Mrs
! W eb.ste; s life i . terest i.i i lie two estates fie pur
j chased out. It lau.-t le s -en w hat can be done
! with fii nds in If ston, an<l especially with the
contributors to iny 1 fe annuity. .My son-in-law
Mr. Appleton, has most generously requested
trie io pay little regard to his interests, or to
• hose of his children, but l must do somethin*;
enough to manifest my warm love and attach
ment to him and them. The property best be
spared for the purpose of buying out
Webster’s life interest under the marriage set
tlement is Frank In, which is very valuable
properly, and which may be sold under prudent
management, or uioi tgaged for a considerable
sum.
I have also a quantity of valuable land in I
- at lYru, which on Jit to be immediate.;
seen af er. Mr. Edward Cu tis, and Mr. B at< li
fold, and Frankun Haven kn >w ail about nn
large debts, and they have undertaken to see a
once whether those can be provided for, o that
these purposes may probably be carried into ef
fect.
W i h these exp'anations, I now make the fol
lowing provision, name y :
Item. I appoint my wife, Caroline Le Roy
W eb-te , my s*n, F.etcher W ebster, and R. M.
B atchlord, Esquire, of New Voik. to be the
Executors of tin* Will. I wish mv said Exec -
utors. and also the Tru-tees hereinafter named,
in all things relating to finance and pecuniary
matters, te cornu t with my valuab’e fiend, F,
llaven ; and in ali things respecting M trshfielcl,
with Charles Henry Tliomas, always an inti
male friend, and one whom I love tor his own
sake and that of his family ; and in all thing-1
respecting Franklin, with that true man. John i
Taylor, and I wish them in rmisitlt in all mat
ters of law, with my lire h en and highly es- .
teemed friends, Charles I*. Cnitis, and George
T. Curtis.
Item. I give and devise to James W.
Paige and Franklin Haven, of Boston, and
Edward Curtis, of New York, nil my real es
late in the towns of Marshfield, in the State of
Massachusetts, and Franklin in the Slate of
New Hampshire, being the two estate? above
mentioned, to have and to hold the same to
them and their heirs and assigns forever, upon
the following Trusts —namely:—
i First To mortgage, sell, or lease so much
(hereof as may be necessary to pay to my wile,
Caroline Le Roy Webster, tlie estimated val
ue of her life-interest, heretofore secured to
her the reon by marriage settlement, as is above
recited, if she shall elect to receive that valoa- j
lion mi place of security with which those es
tates now stand charged.
Secondly. To pay to my said wife from the j
rent- and profits and income of the *aid two
estates, the further sum of five hundied dol
lars per annum during her natuial life.
Thirdly. To hold, manage and carry on the
said two estates, or so much thereof as may not
be sold t >r die purposes aforesaid, tor the use :
o| my soil, Fletcher W ebster, during his nal
"•al life, arid after his decease, to convey the
same in fee to such ot his male descendants as
a majority of the said Trustees nay elect, they
acting then in with my sun’s concurrence, it
circs instances admit of his expres-ing his wish
es. otherwise acting upon their own discretion ;
it being my desire that In? sur. Yshburtou
YY eh.-ter, take on-, and his soil Daniel Web
ster, Jr., the other of llie -aid estates
Item. 1 direct that my wife Caroline Le
Roy W.-b-ter have, and I hereby give to her,
the right during her life, to reside lit my ma i
sion house at Maisiifi. Id, when she wishes to do
so, with my sou, in case lie may reside there, or
m his ab.-eiice; and tins i do, not doubting
my son's affection f>r her or for me, but be
cause it is due to lim that she should receive
this tight from her husband.
Item. I give and bequeath so the said Jas.
W. Paige, Franklin Haven and Edward Curtis,
all the Books, Plate, Pictures, Statuary and
b urniture, and other personal property n"w in
my man-ion house at Marshfield, except such
articles as are hereinafter othei wise disposed of,
m Itust to preserve the same in the mansion
house lor the use of my son Fletcher Webster,
during his life, and after his decease to make
over and deliver the same to the person who
will then become “the owner of .lie estate of
Marshfield it being my < esire and iipention
that they remain attached to the hou-e while it
is occupied by any of my natne and blood.
Item. I give and bequeath to my said wife
all my furniture which she brought with her on
her marriage, and the silver plate purchased of
Mr. Rush, for l:er own u-e.
Item. 1 give, devise and bequeath to mv
said Eyeru'o s, all my other real and personal
• state, except such as is hereinafter de cribed
and otherwise disposed of. io be applied to t’-e
execution of the general purposes of this Will,
and to be sold and disposed of, or Indd, and
used at Marshfield, a- they and the said Tru
tees may find lo be exped ent.
Item. I give an i bequeath to mv sop Fletcli
er Webster, all my Law Books, wherever it
ua ed.for his own use.
Item, i give and bequeath to mv son-in-law
Samuel A. Appleton, my Cali.oruia watch am.
chain for his own use,
Item, i give and bequeath to my grand
daughter, Caroline Le Roy xp|.|,-to the p r
tfaitot myself, by Healey, which now bangs i.
tile Southea-t parlor at M u-lifield, for his uwt
use.
Item. I give and bequeath to my grandson
Samuel A. Appleton, my gold snuff-box with
the head ut General Washington, all mv fi> n
iug tackle, and my Seldeii and Wilmot guns
tor his ovv u use.
item. 1 give and bequeath to mv grandson
Daniel YY ehsigr Appleton, my V\ ashiugtuu me
dals, for his own use.
Item. 1 give and bequeath to my gtand
daughter, Jgl.a Webster Appleton, the clock
presented to her grandmother by tlie late Hon
George Blake.
Item. I appoint Edward Everett, George
Tiekqor, Cornelius Conway Ftd on, and Geo.
T. Curtis, to be my literary executors.; and I
direct my son. Fletghtu Webster, to seal up all
my lepers, manuscripts and papers, and at a
proper lime to select those relating to my per
sonal his'ory, and my professional and public
life, which in bis judgment, should be placed at
theii and sposal. and to transfer the same to them
to be used by them in such manner a* they
may think fit. They may receive valuable aid
f “in my friend, George J Abbott, Esq., now
of the Jstate Department.
Itev. My servant, William Jobnsfon, is a
free man. I bought bis freedom not long ago
for six hundred dollars. No demand is to be
made upon him for any portion of this sum,
but so long as is agreeable I hope he will remain
u f, '“ family.
Item. -richa McCarty, Sarah Smith, and
nn Bean, coloreu po rsoll3i now also, and for a
lou£ in m y 9ervic . au. qll free. They are
very well deserving, and whoever monies next
to me must be kind to them.
Item. I request that my said Executors and
Trustees be not required to g’.ve bonds for tie
performance of their respective duties under
his Will.
In testimony whereof, I have hereunto act
my hand and seal at Marshfield, and have pub
lished and declared this to be my last TVill and
Testament, on th** twenty first day of Sejrtem
her. in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred
and fifty two.
[Signed.] Daniel Webster. [Seal]
Signed, sealed, published and declared by
the said Testator, as and for his last YY ill and
Testament, in the presence of us, who at hi
request, and in his presence, and in the pres
ence of each other, have set our names here
unto as subscribing witnesses, the word ‘'our”
being erased in the third line from the bottom
>f the fifth page before signing—
[Signed.] Gk roe J. Abbott,
John Jeffries,
Charles H. T homas.
The United States Senate.
The New York Mirror, contains ilie following free
mid easy pen and ink sketch of the United States
Senate, drawn iy *A Looker On.’ It is in the main,
-.. far as our knowledge extends, a vary faithful por
trait. No int. lligciit mind can contemplate the pre
sent Senate in contrast with what it was but a few
oars s-ii.ee. and indeed from’ the foundation of the
Government, w ithout a mortifying conviction of the
and erioialion of lit;.; body, ouee the most august ij>
t world :
livery one who has visited Washington during the
last few years, mu-t have remarked the contrast be
t veeit the present Senate and the body whieh former
ly assembled here. Not only is the large space left
vacant which was formerly occupied bv Mr. Clay,
W.bstef and Calhoun, but very f.-w of the Slates
are represented by men w ho are at>ove mediocrity.——
In vain do we look for the learning, experience and
sparkling brilliancy which distingui-bed such .nen as
rowdy. Forsyth. Sou:h;ird, Buchanan, Berrien, Crit
teinl. n, Benton and C*>rwin.
Tlie frosty head of John Davis is still visible; but
except in the dignity which grey hairs give to such
a plaee, he adds l.ut little lo the usefulness or interest
of the body. He has occupied a distinguished posi
tion in fits day, having been for more than twenty vears
a member of one or the other branch of Congress;
but of late i.e lias been content to enjoy los otium
cum digrntutt. with the n.aet apathetic indifference
as in wliat wen; on around him. Jt is to be hoped
that Edward Everett or Robert C. YY'inthrop wiU taka
his plaee.
Near him sits Mangum—now almost broken down
with high living. He has been a long time in Con
gress and is a brilliant debater ; bu: has always been
wanting in industry and research.
Gen. Cass is almost the only one of the men of
national reputation who seems to hold his own, and,
f.>r ought that I can see, he will be in good condition
for a run four years hence, with an increased reputa
tion.
Old Judge Butler, of South Carolina, secure* the
respect of every one, for his learning, as a gentleman
of the old se*h<x>l,and the sparkling raciness of his oc
casional speeches. He makes an aUe ehakiaaa of tho
Judiciary Committee.
Near him sits Hunter, of Virginia, who was once,
by accident, elected Speaker of the House of Repre
tatives. He made a miserable presiding officer ; but
lias proved a very industrious and sagacious Senator.
As chairman of the Finance Committee, he haa much
influence, rarely making long speeches, and always
speaking to tlie point; with a great deal of Virginia
and South Carolina abstractionism, he combines aclear
head in examining business matters, is always punctual
in fulfilling his engagements ; and, if he cannot agree
with you, gives you at least the satisfaction of a deci
ded answer in the negative.
His colleague, Mason, is a bitter States Rights man,
of very contracted views, and expresses himself occa
sionally with fluency ; but he is destitute of any busi
ness habit-, and really has very little influence, lie
is not particularly popular in Virginia, and would hard
ly have been re-elected, but for his agency in g. tiing
up the fugitive slave law, of which he has ail the
glory,
Bright, us Indiana, is a man of fair abilities ; but a
mere parly politician of the most ultra kind, and has
no influence, except such as seven or eight years’ ex
perience gives him in his own party.
Borland, of Arkansas, is small potatoes in every
respect, (lias just been fined SIOO lor an ass nilt aud
battery,j aud would boa fit companion of Weller, of
California, who must have succeeded in realiiing his
present position by sheer impudence, of w hich be has
a pientilul stock, coupled with the grossest vulgarity rtf.
manner and speech.
Dr. Gvm, of California, is a pleasant spoken gen
tleman. Tihxs whe have had business with him say
that he will listen very attentively to all yon have to
say, atnl the next day be as ignorant of the subject as
if lie had never heard of if.
Fi?h. of New York, is a thorough business man. a
g->od w t iter, and very faithful in attending to committee
ou.-iiic.-s ; but he has never yet opened his mouth in
1 lie Senate, except to proscut a petiiioß, fad is gene
• ally regarded as being destitute of all qualifications as
• sp--qkvr, so ibat he cannot pilot a lull through al
itough he may understand it better than any one else
Seward is admitted, with ail ltis deinagsguism, to be
. man of talent, but his varies is net a fapi.-d f.-r any
large room, anti hence what he says, though generally
•••gietd and concise, i* not listened to with much
t- n. Ir. fact, New Yoiklutsao djstingtusl.sd dx'oai
t is in Congress.
8.-il, of Tennessee, once Speaker of the Hoase of
R-prcsciitativ. sand a very able one,and Secretary us
A ar under Gen. Harri-on. always command* respect,
and is worthy of the station. J,one, bis cojleague,.
i- in.ne made up oi w. ;ds than ideas.
Dawson, oi, Georgia, makes a very respectable
ure, as dt* s aiso. Badger of North Girolma, Gen,,
liarnsoit's Scercisr\ of the Navy.
Br.s.k and Adam*, of Mississippi. Ch-mens. of Ala
bama, the two ]).*dges. (lather- and wm ] Broad head
and C.s'per, of Penn-ylvania, are all third rate men.
I lie firt looks like a boy, aud speaks as if he wt-rs
iu a debating society.
P’.erce and Pratt of Maryland, are both fipishrd,
gentlemen and scholars,
Douglas and &hieius, of Illinois, always appear well
• n debate, and are generally well informed on the busi
iies# before tjieir committees, especially the latter—
nothjog one sees of the former would lead you to pick
hi i. out as a candidate for the Presidency, except his
disposition to ride every Lobby that may catch voters.
Capt. Stockton should have remained in the navy,
fie shows his self-conceit in every thing he does, and
is laughed at a little.
‘Truman Smith, of Connection t, is well informed,
but very heavy in debate, and rather testy. His col
league Toney, once Attorney General, it a bettor law
yer than Statesman.
Bonjo, ahrays el and rt'br* ‘ Art
NO. 42.