Newspaper Page Text
Vol. VI.
ctri|.
Written for the Georgia Citixen.
The Jewish Bridal.
BT LACRA EUGLCSTOX.
I.
Tli* scene was resplendent,
In Orient Halls :
Anil golden lamp* pendent,
Lit up brilliant walls :
Sweet numbers melodious,
Rung high in the Rowers;
And minstrels harmonious,
Played in the broad towers.
ir.
The youth and the beauty,
Os Cana, that night;
Assembled in duty,
For Hymenial rite :
And Mary, the mother
Os Jesus, was there :
And lie, ‘‘Elder Brother,”
With Disciples dear.
111.
According to station,
The guests all sat down :
A splendid collation,
For Hymen to crown :
The viands were pleasant,
And fit for the rite :
Bit yrin n was not present,
To gladden the sight.
IV.
Wine, rosy, and flow'ntr,
Vas ! was nnt there !
And some were bestowing,
A sieh on the air :
Six water-pots, standing,
Arrested the sigh* :
And I •■ms cnmomnded.
His servants that night—
With bright, gushing water,
These vessels to fill :
Al l servants went after.
The wares of the rill!
V.
The servants ohcved
The Master’s behest;
A goblet conveyed.
The Brideeroom to taste.
Ail tasted ; with wonder,
For lo ! it wa wine !
And many did ponder,
Y’lis fine ! * * *
VT.
The rnbv wine spirfcles;—
The minstrels d'd sing:
And moon'ight eiieir -led,
The P and Fprlng :
The ghosts were delighted ;
The hridal was grand :
The Snvlor inv : ted.
Returned, with his hand !
• * * * *
TIT.
L nut ages, have vanished
Away, since that night:
The Jews are ail hunt ,
A far from delight:—
Their Temple, so splendid,
Alas ! is o’erthrown :
Their Polity ended ;
And Liberty gone!
VIII.
But Qnd i tlieir Savior !
And He will restore,
T'f **- J< ‘T* to His favor,
And open a door:
To Freedom supernal.
On 7,ion’s broad hill:
And blessings eternal.
Their spirits shall fill.
IX.
The outeasls and ttflens.
In gathered shall be:
And sorrows and trial*,
Forever shall flee :
Jehovah is graoUin*
Flis prom’se sublime :
He'll wipe from all faces.
The tear-drops of time!
X.
The M islem and Christian.
Shall Brotherhood own:
And how with Faith’s vision.
At Love’s brilliant throne :
*A<lelph i/i,”* forever:
The millions, ail sing:
Ami nothing dissever.
The Sons of Love’s King!
•One Brotherhood.
Onuus, X. A*., December 1,1555,
sjlts ccllani).
A COUSIN IN NEED.
On a dreary autumn day, more titan a hundred
■ars ago, a heavy traveling-carriage was slowly
.inhering along the muddy road from Potsdam
o Berlin. Within it was one person only, who
took no heed of the slowness of the traveling,
hut leaning back in a corner, was arranging a mul
tiplicity of papers contained in a small portfolio,
and making notes in a pocket book. Since he
was dressed in a plain dark military uniform, it
was fair to suppose that this gentleman belonged
to the Prussian army, but to which grade ot it
nobody could determiue, as all token of rank had
been avoided. A dreary November evening was
closing in; and, though the rain had for a time
ceased, yet dark masses of clouds flying through
the sky gave warning that a “weeping darkness”
was at hand. The road grew heavier and heavier,
at least so it should have seemed to a foot travel
er, who was ploughing liis way through its mire;
a d so. doubtless, it did seem to the carriage
horses, who at last floundered along so slowly
that the pedestrian, whom they had ovei taken,
h'pt easily at the side of the eoacli, though at a
respectful distance, certainly, after the first buck
etful, of mud that it splashed over him. The gen
ttatnan inside the coach, when he could see no
hjQger, shut up his portfolio and returned the
Pteket-book to its place in the breast lining of his
toat. H e tlien roused himself to look out of the
“'inflow, and judge, from the mud and darkness
‘•°w far it might be to Berlin. For the first time
*‘ e perceived that a muddy young man was xvalk
lnSat a little distance from his horses. Though
m °re than reasonably travel-stained, he trudged
“ 1 ** it his limbs were strong as his heart light.
’ trough the drizzle and the darkness, all that
‘fl be seen of his face was sensible and gcod
kaipered. He had just finished a pipe as he at
a ted the traveler’s attention, and was in the act
° out the ashes and replacing the pipe
j a wallet slung over his back, when he heard
addressed in the manner following, aud
an authoritative tvUV vs YV'SV i
A Weekly Family Journal,...Devoted to Literature, Politics, Domestic Economy, General News, and State & National Americanism.
‘Hollo! young man, where are you bound this
stormy looking night?’
‘That is more than I can tell you, not being at
home in this part of the xvorld. My xvish is to
reach Berlin; but if I find a resting place before
I get there—to that I am bound, for I am a-wea
-y’
‘I should think you must have a two hours’
walk before you,’ was the unsatisfactory remark
that followed.
The young man made no reply, and after a short
pause, the stranger said:
‘lf it please you to rest on the step of the car
riage for a few minutes, you are welcome to do
so, Herr \Y hat’s-vour-name.’
‘My name is Heinrich Meyer,’ replied the young ‘
man: ‘one of those who wisely never refuse the j
small benefit, because the larger one is not to be
obtained.’ He thankfully accepted the not very
clean place allotted him.
From inside the window the next question put
to Heinrich was—
‘What are you going to Berlin for?’
‘To hunt for some cousins,’ was the reply.
‘And pray who may they be ?’ asked the un
known.
‘Well, to tell you the truth, I have not an idea
who they are, or where to look for them. Indeed,
it is more thad doubtful whether I have so much
as an acquaintance in Berlin, much less a relation.’
The questioner-who should have been an Ame
rican colonel—looked amused and astonished, as ‘
he suggested:
‘Surely there must be some other motive for
your going to Berlin; or, what could have put
this idea into your head?’
‘Why,’ replied Heinrich. ‘I have just become
a clergyman, without the smallest chance of get
ting anything to do in my own neighborhood, I
have no relative to help me, and not quite money
enough to find me in necessaries.’
‘But,’ said the Prussian, ‘what on earth has this
to do with cousins in Berlin?’
‘Well, now, who knows? Many of my fellow
students have got good appointments, and when
ever I aked them to let me know how it was
done, the answer always was, ‘A cousin gave it
to in‘.’ or, ‘I got it through the interest of a cou
sin, who lives in Berlin.’ Now, as I find none of
these useful cousins live in the country, I must
go without their help, or else hunt for them in
Berlin.’
This was all said in a comical, dry way, so that
his listener could not refrain from laughing, but he
made no comment. However, lie pulled out a
piece of paper, and began to write upon it. When
he had finished, he turned round to Heinrich, spy
ing that he observed he had been smoking, and
that lie felt inclined to do the same, but had for
gotten to bring tinder with him. Could Herr
Meyer oblige him with a light?
‘Certainly, with great pleasure, was the prompt
reply; and Heinrich, taking a tinder-box out of
his wallet, immediately began to strike a light.—
Now, it has been said that the evening was damp,
it was so damp that there seemed little enough
prospect of the tinder’s lighting; moreover, the
wind blew the sparks out almost before they fell.
‘Well, if your cousins are not more easily to be
got at than your light is, I pity you, young sir!’
was the sole remark to which the stranger conde
scended, as he watched Heinrieh’s laborious en
deavors.
“Nil desperan lum is my motto,’ answered the
young man ; and when the words Avere scarcely
uttered, tile light had been struck. In his delight
at succeeding, Heinrich jumped up on the carriage
step, and leaning through the window, thrust the
tinder eagerly in the direction of the gentleman’s
face. ‘Hurra, sir, puff away !’
After a short pause, during which time the
stranger had been puffing at his pipe, he removed
it from his mouth, and addressed Heinrich in this
way:
‘I have been thinking over what you have been
tolling me; and perhaps, in an humble way,l might
be able to assist you, and thus act the part of the
cousin you are seeking. At all events, when you
get to Berlin, take this note,’ handing him the
slip of paper on which he had been writing;—
‘take this note to Marshal Grumbkow, who is
somewhat of a friend of mine, and who will, I
think, be glad to oblige me. But mind! Do ex
actly as he bids yon, and abide strictly by his ad
vice. If he says he will help you, rely upon it
he will keep his word; but he is rather eccentric,
and the way he sets about doing a kindness may,
perhaps, seem strange to you. And now,’ he
continued, as the road is improved, I must hurry
on the hors es. and so bid you good evening, ho
ping you will prosper in your new career.’
As Heinrich began to express his thanks for the
good wishes of his unknown friend, the signa;
was given to increase the speed of the horses, and
before he had time to make any acknowledge
ments, he found himself alone again. The young
man was no little astonished at what had taken
plaee ; and as he gazed on the slip of paper, could
not help wondering whether any good would
come of it These were the only words xvritten
on it:
“Dear Marshal —ls you can forward the views
of the bearer, Heinrich Meyer, you will oblige
your friend. F.
“Let me know the result of your interview with
him.”
‘Time will prove this, as it docs all things,
thought Heinrich, as he proceeded on his way.—
Somehow or other, the road appeared less weari
some, and he felt less tired and foot-eore since re
ceiving the mysterious bit of paper. Hope was
stronger within him than she had been for many
a day; and on her wings he xvas carried pleasant
ly along, so that he reached Berlin by nightfall.
The noise and bustle of the capital xvas new to
him; and he found some little difficulty in making’
his xvay to the gasthaus, to which he had been
recommended by the pastor of Ins parish. The
pastor having been once in Berlin, was considered
in his part of the world, an oracle in all matters
connected with town-life.
The inn however, found at last; and after
It frugal aujtfW gad a plgbfa rest, our Mead
MACON, Ga. SATURDAY, JANT. 19, 1030.
arose, ready to hope and believe everything from
the mysterious note, xvhich he started forth to de
liver immediately after breakfast.
Obliged to ask his x\ r ay to Marshal Grumbkoxv’s,
he xvas amused and surprised at the astonishment
depicted on the countenances of those persons of
whom he made the inquiry, as if they would say.
‘What business can you have with Marshal Grum
ko w ?’
The house was, however, at last gained; and
having delivered his missive to a servant, Hein
rich awaited the result in the hall. In a few
minutes the servant returned, and requested him
in the most respectful manner, to folloxv him to
the marshal's presence. Arrived there, he was re
ceived most courteously ; and the Marshal made
many inquiries as to his past life and future pros
pects ; requested to be told the name of the vil
lage or toxvn in xvhich lie had been last residing;
the school in which he had been educated; at
what inn he xvas living in Berlin, and so forth.—
But still, no allusion xvas made, either to the note
or the writer of it. The interview lasted about
twenty minutes; at the end of xvhich time the
Marshal dismissed him, desiring that Ire would
call again on that day fortnight.
Heinrich employed the interval in visiting the
lions of the town. There xvas a grand review of
the troops on the king’s birth-day, and, like a loy
al subject, our friend xvent to have a reverend
stare at his majesty, whom he had never seen.—
I At one point of the review the king stopped al
most opposite to Heinrich ; and then xvas sugges
ted to him, as the reader probably suspects, that,
after all, he must have seen that face somewhere
before. Was it the friend xvlio hailed him in the
muddy road? Impossible! How should a king
be traveling at that time of day? At any rate
it x'exed him to think that he had not treated the
gentleman in the coach in a very ceremonious
manner. He had thrust tinder at liis nose and
cried to him “puff away!”
At last the time appointed for his second visit
to the marshal arrived. His reception xvas again
most favorable. The marshal begged him to be
seated at the table at xvhich he was writing, and
proceeded at the same time to business. Unlock
ing a drawer and bringing forth a small bundle of
papers, he asked Ileinricb, as he drew theta forth,
one by one, if he knew in whose liaadwriting the
various superscriptions were ?
, Heinrich answered-that to the best of his be
lief. one xvas that of Herr Model, his former
schoolmaster, another that of Doctor Von Hum
mer, the principal of such a college, and so on.
‘Quite right,’ answered the marshal, ‘and per
haps it may not surprise you to hear that I have
written to these different gentlemen to inquire
vour character, that I may knoxv xvith xvhom 1
have to deal, and not be working in the dark.’—
And as he said these words, the marshal fixed his
eyes on Heinrich to see xvhat effect they had;but
the young man’s countenance was unabashed—he
evidently feared no evil report. ‘I feel bound,’
continued the marshal, ‘to tell yon, that all they
say of you is most favorable, and I am equally
bound to believe and act upon their opinions. I
have noxv to bog of you to folloxv me to a friend’s
house.’
The marshal descended a private stair case lead
ing to the court yard, crossing xvhich, he passed •
through a gate in the xvall into a narrow street
down xvhich he conducted Heinrich, till they ar
rived at a private entrance to the palace. Hein
rich began to get exceedingly nervous; the con
viction that his idea xvas not a mere trick of the
imagination became stronger and stronger. Could
he have had his oxvn wish, Heinrich Meyer would
have been at that moment forty miles from Ber
lin. At last, as ho found himself following
Grumbkoxv, even into the palace, he could not re
frain from exclaiming, ‘lndeed, Herr Marshal,
there must be some mistake ?’
No answer was vouchsafed, as the marshal con
tinued to lead him through the various galleries
and apartments, until at last they reached the door
of one situated in the corner of a wing of the pa
lace, where the marshal’s knock xvas answered by
a short ‘come in.’ As the door opened, one
glance sufficed to convince Heinrich that his friend
hi the mud, and his king, xvere one and the same
person. The poor cousin-seeker, greatly confused,
knelt before Frederick William, and began falter
ing out contrite apologies.
‘Rise, young man,’ said the king, ‘you have not
committed treason. How on earth could you
guess who I xvas? I should not travel quietly if
I meant to be everywhere recognized.’
After re-assuring Heinrich, the king told him
that he xx-as prepared to do xvhat he could to push
him forward in the profession he had chosen.—
‘But first,’ he said, ‘I must hear hoxv you preach
On Sunday next, therefore, you shall preach be
fore me; but, mind, I shall choose the text. You
may retire.’
By the time Heinrich Meyer reached his own
room in the inn, he had fixed in his mind the fact
that he was to preach to the king. The fact xvas
only too clear, and all he could do was to set about
his sermon as soon as he should have been fur
nished with the text. For the remainder of that
day, he never stirred out; every step on the stair
was to his ears that of the bearer of the text.
Nevertheless, evening and night passed, and
the next day was far advanced, but still no text-
What was to be done ? There were only two
days before Sunday f He must go and consult
the Marshal, but the latter could give him no fur
ther information; ail he could do was to promise
that if the king sent the text through him, it
should be forxvarded with the utmost possible dis
patch.
That day and the next passed, and yet Hein
rich heard nothing from either king or marshal.
Only an official intimation had been sent, as was
customary, that he bar! been selected as the prea
cher on the following Sunday at the chapel royal.
If it had not been that Heinrich knew himself
to possess no mean powers of oratory, and that
he could even extemporise, in case of emergency;
he would have certainly run away from Berlin,
and abjured his discovered cousin, As it xvas, he
abided the tmnnw nt* ™nt n/i forriftea hmiSci/
by prayer and philosophy for the momentous hour.
Sunday morning arrived, but no text.
Heinrich xvent to the church appointed, and
xvas conducted to the seat always set apart for the
preacher of the day. The king, with the royal
family, occupied their accustomed places.
The service commenced, but uo text! The
prayers were ended, and whilst the organ pealed
forth its solemn sounds, the preacher xvas led to
the pulpit. The congregation was astonished, not
only at his youthfulness, hut at his being an utter
stranger.
The pulpit steps xvere gained, and the thought
flashed across Heinrich’s mind that possibly he
should find the text placed for him on the desk.
But, as he xvas on the point of mounting the
stairs, an officer of the royal household delivered
to him a folded piece of paper, saying, ‘His majes
ty sends you the text.’
After having recited the preliminary prayer,
the preacher opened the paper, and lo! it xvas
blank—not a xvord was written on it. What was
to be done ? Heinrich deliberately examined the
white sheet, and after a short pause, held it up
before the congregation, saying, ‘His majesty has
furnished the text for my sermon. But you may
perceive that nothing whatever ii upon this sheet
of paper. ‘Out of nothing God created the world.
I shall, therefore, take the Creation for the subject
of my discourse this morning.’
In accordance xvith this decision, the preacher
xvent through the xvhole of the first chapter of
Genesis in a masterly way, his style being forcible’
and clear, and his fluency of language remarkable.
Ilis audience, accustomed (o the king’s eccentri
cities, xvere far more astonished at the dexterity
with xvhich the preacher had extricated himself
from the difficulty, than at the dilemma in which
he had been placed. At last the sermon was en
ded, the congregation dismissed, and Heinrich
found himself in the sacristy, receiving the con
gratulations of several dignitaries of the church,
who all prophesied for him a brilliant future.
Heinrich ventured to express his amazement at
the singular proceeding of the king, but xvas told
that he could only have arrived recently from the
provinces, if he did not know that such vagaries
xvere quite common to his nuyesty.
In the midst of the conversation, a messenger
arrived to conduct him to the royal presence. Be
in’g totally unaware xvhat impression his sermon
might have made upon the king, the cousin-seeker
rather dreaded the approaching audience. But
Heinrich had scarcely crossed the threshhold of
the king’s room, xvhen his majesty jumped up, and
thrust a roll of paper into the young man’s hand,
exclaiming, ‘Hurrah, sir!—puff away ! —take this
for the light you gave mes
Then throwing himself back in a chair, he
laughed heartily at the young preacher's look of
surprise and confusion. The latter scarcely knexv
xvhat reply to make, or xvhat to do; but just as
he had got as far as ‘Your majesty the king
interrupted him, saying, ‘Make no fine speeehes;
go home quietl}’, and examine the contents of the
paper. You came to Berlin to seek a cousin; you
have found one, who, if you go on steadily, will
not neglect you.’
It is hardly necessary to add that the roll of
paper contained a good appointment at the Uni
versity of Berlin, and made Heinrich Meyer one
of the royal preachers,
■—i—
[From the Boston Herald.]
Invasion of Ireland—Mr. Job Sass’s Plan of
Attack.
xvallpole, thursday, dec. G.—18&55.
I hav For a long time Bin gitting up A program
my to Tak ireland. & Jine it on til The united
states, i did'nt Want it tu git Intu the newspa
pers too soon, & For that reason put it xvun side
in The bureau draw, but as Long as the kat's
Out'o the bag, & everybody is A talkin aboxvtit,
I May as xvell tak & Publish the hole Skcme.
tu take ireland, I Wud proceed As follows:
fust. Land at koi k, & Bombard the houses Sz
Stores, & fire rockits at the Fcopel xven they kum
Out, tu see xvat’s A gain on. allso, shoot Down
the police oriioersand kunstabels, hand Overhand,
Sz Kut tip the millishy the Same xvay you Wud
hash a pared of dogs, For sassengers.
in the Next place, put up Barrikades, Sz hist a
flag stars, xvith The stars and stripes a flyin Tu
the breeze, & bearin The motto—“hail kolumby,
Happy land ?’ (& et Cetery.)
i wud then proceed tu sack The place vi et ar
mis, (that is, by The force of arms.) drive out
The hole populashun, xvith The sharp ends of
Your bagonets farstened intu Thar rear extremi
ties.
show No marcy—spare Neither sex, nor Age,
naow ’Em awl down, like so many korn stalks or
highxx r ay thistles.
then advarnce on tipperary, in the interior,
leaving a Track of dosolashun in your path, too
Ilorribel tu kontemplate. burn doxvn the Shan
ties, & drive The tenants tharofLitu the xvoods,
hovvlin like So many mad kats. set fire Tu th§
priests! huild up a Lott of bushes, & Put the
priests on top, In seperate layers ;—then brile ’em
Tu a krisp. (it xvill Give ’em a sort of a four
Taste of the Grate Ilerearter.)
well, arter this, my plan is tu Rush on, Sz tak
dublin. i shod Send out a gang Os sharp shoot
ers at Fursfi tu pick orfsuch Outsiders, w'hatmite
bee Inclined tu raze impediments, i xvud Then
dart Intu the hart of The city, & ravish it, By
storm.
then, the victory wud be komplete! gittin up
on the dome of saiut patrick’s Ivathedral, i wud i
Hurl defiance agin the hole hemisphere! i wud
Spit at queen victory.—-throw Stones at louisNa
polean,—Sz raise the uevil w r ith the hole world.
this is The wey i shud doo, uther Men mite bee
Kalin. xvilst sum People was stormin a village
That tuk ’em 10 ders tn Destroy, i kan shoxv a
Process vverebv ye Kan ransack & Perfectly anx
ihilate Toxvns on toxvns, in 1-2 the Time.
for pertikelers Os my fiery projectiles, kail At
the old humstead, betxvixt 5 and 6 a. m., Sz in the
Afternoon, step intu The old grocery, ither i, or
Old joe brown, will Bee in at attendance.
Jon Sajbs.
A Letter from Young America in Europe.
We copy from an exchange the following racy
letter, xvhich will serve to shoxv the opinions
Young America has of things over the xvater:
Dear Harry: I was in London last year. You
are right; but as to the “pleasant acquaintances,”
you are under a slight mistake.
There are some two or three thousand visitors
every ex'eningfrom 10 to 12 o’clock, at a place cal
led “Argyle Rooms"—a place xvell known in
London, a little to the left of Picadilty as you
cross Regent street. These visitors and a house
number eight, I think, (d —n the street,) Bishops
gate-Within, kept by certain persons called Bar
ing Brothers, are all the people I know in London,
except “the Boots” at Fenton’s Hotel, St. James
street.
I shall never bo in London again probably. If
I xvere going to Europe, I would avoid it as I
would St. Louis or New Orleans in cholera times.
It is a cursed, miserable, dingy, nasty cold repul
sive hole.—l would rather live in New York one
year than in London twenty. There is nothing
about it that xxrill not sicken and disgust you. Go
to Paris at once, don’t stop in London any longer
than to change cars.—Mind me, London is not
xvorth your attention—it xvon’t pay; depend up
on it, lam right! You xvill say so in two days
after you visit it.
You cannot get anything there to eat except
mutton chops, nor to drink, but beer—everything
is full of beer; the men, women and horses are all
bursting xvith beer, and wonder in perfect aston
ishment that you can’t sit doxvn ands valloxv a
pint of “ ’alf-and-’alf.” They have no bread, no
water, no tobacco, no meat but mutton —sheep,
and you pay for everything by the mouthful. I
look back to my visit, at least, so far as England is
concerned, xvith perfect horror and disgust. I
became dyspeptic xvith eating their nasty trash—
their beer I could not swallow, so that did me no
harm; but bread you must eat. lam telling you
the exact truth—there it neither xvater, nor bread,
nor tobacco.
For God sake don't stop at Fenton’s in St.
James street, nor at Murley’y, Charing Cross. I
don’t know about the rest; but of those two I
can speak. Neither of them Is half as good as the
Bite Tavern, in Dock Square, Boston—either of
them xvill charge you fifty dollars per week with
out your dinners. If I were obliged to be in Lon
don again, I would hire a house ready furnished,
servants and all, and do it cheaper than I could
stop at xvhat is called a fashionable London Ho
tel. But I shall never be there again and Ido
not regret it. I hope to see Paris once more.
But let me tell you something else—don’t go to
the Rhine. It is d—d nonsense. There is noth
ing—nobody there. Three hours up the Hudson
beats the Rhine scenery all to the d—l; and a
jaunt among the farmers of Pennsylvania heats
the Rhifie Dutch by a thousand miles. It is just
nothing at all—don’t go to the Rhine. The moun
tains of Switzerland are xvorth while; but the
Rhine is a mere squirt—a quiz—a fizzle—nothing;
a good place for a couple of common grist mills
and a turning lathe. Paris is your place. Nat is
there? Everybody that is any body, all Europe is
there and always xvill be. You don’t xx'ant any
letters to anybody at Paris—everybody is glad to
see you, and are pleased that you have come.
When you reach Paris you xvill be happy—you
xvill feel well—j r ou xvill have crossed that nasti
est of all nasties, the English Channel, and xvill
have vomited everything you ate in England,
namely, the beer and the dead sheep, and you will
enter Paris joyfully and commence anew exis
tence.—That channel must have been designed by
nature to cleanse the stomach after leaving the
grease, malt and cabbage of England.
Respectfully Yours, B.
Lidel Shits against a Newspaper— Two
suits brought against the Albany (N. \ ) Tran
script byJoHN Costioan, to recover damages for
alleged libels, have, resulted in verdicts for the
defendant. The Atlas remarks that:
Instead of receiving 10,000 damages, the
plaintiff has to pay the costs of eighteen months
litigation, in two suits, a result somewhat re
sembling that of an ancient “who went out for
wool and came home shorn.” But he has il
lustrated a lesson which, if heeded, is worth a
good many hundreds of dollars, viz : that it is
a most foolish thing in an individual to wage
xvar upon the press. We are quite sure that the
publishers of the Transcript were not actuated
by malice against the plaintiff. It is the duty
of the press to record the accidents, incidents,
marriages, deaths, catastrophes and accusations
of the day—the evil with the good. Aud
when the sufferers find theiroxvn cases set down
in the chronicle, they should recollect that the
press is not the eauseofthe calamity or instiga
tor of the accusation, but merely its dispassion
ate historian.
Lost. —We arc requested by two young
ladies of this town, to state, that each of them
has lost, a fexv days ago, a Cuff Pin and a
piece of black silk velvet, for xvhich the finder
will be liberally rewarded, if pood looking and
comes well recommended, lwo finders would
be preferred, aud they young men.
A Slight Misunderstanding.— A pious min
ister, after lecturing a school class in a most
edifying manner, proposed to close the exercise
by singing “Jordan,’meaning the hymn “On
Jordan’s stormy banks I stand.’, The worthy
man was horrified by hearing the whole school
immediately strike up,“Jordan am a hard road
to travel, I believe.”
One day a little girl about five years old, heard
a preacher of the Chadband order praying most
lustily, till the roof rang xvith the strength of his
supplication. Turning to her mother and beckon
ing the maternal ear doxvn to a speaking distance,
she whispered—“ Mother, don't you think that if
he lived nearer to God lie wouldn’t have to talk
-so loud?’
True Love. —Simon sitting beside his sweet
heart, wishing—‘Sally, I wish I was a fish and
you xvas a bait. Lordee ? how Pd bite.’ *
Don’t Depend on “Father.*’
Stand up here young man, and let us talk
to you—yen have trusted alone to the contents
of vour “father’s purse” or to his fair lame for
your influence of success iu business. Think
yon that your“father” has attained to eminence
in liis profession, but by unwearied industry?
or that he has amassed a fortune honestly, with
out energy or activity? You should know that
the faculty requisite for the acquirement of
fame and fortune, is essential to, nay inseperable
from the retaining, either of these! Suppose
that “father’’ lias the “rocks” in abimdauee, if
you never earned, anything for him. you have no
more business with the “rocks” than a gosling
with a tortoise! and if he allows you to meddle
with them till you have learned their value by
your own industry, be perpetrates untold mis
chief. And if the old gentleman is lavish of
liis cash towards von, while he allow you to
idle away your time, you’d better leave him,
yes runaway, sooner than be made an imbecile
scoundrel through so corrupting an influence.
Sooner or later you must learn to rely on your
own resources, or you will not be anybody. It
you have uever helped yourself at all, if you
have become idle, ifyou have eaten fathers
bread and butter, and smoked father's cigars,
and cut a swell iu father's buggy, aud tried to
put on father's influence and reputation, you
might rather have been a poor canal boy', the
son of a chimney sweep, or a hoot black—-and
indeed we would not swap xvith y’ou the situa
tion of a poor, half starved motherless calf!
Miserable objects you are to depend upon your
parents, playing gentleman (alias dandy loafer.)
What :n the name of common sense are you
thinking of? Wake up there! Goto xvork with
either your hands or brains, or both, and be
something! Don’t merely have it to boast of
that you have growu in “fathers” house—that
you have vegetated as other greenhorns, but let
folks knoxv that you can count one.
Come, off with your coat, clinch the saw,
the plow handles, the scythe, the axe, the pick
axe, the spade—any tiling that will enable you to
stir your blood. Fly around and tear your
jacket, rather than be the passive recipient of
the old gentleman’s bounty! Sooner than play
dandy at dad's expense, liire yourself out to
some potato patch, let yourself to stop hog-holes,
or watch bars; and when you think yourself
entitled to a resting spoil, do it on \wr own
hook. If you have no other means'of having
fnn of vour own, buy with vour own earnitigs,
an empty barrel, and put your head into it and
holler, or get into it and roll down hill: don’t,
for pity’s sake don’t make the old gentleman
furnish everything aud live at your ease.
Look about, you well dressed, smooth-faced,
drones! Who are they that have wealth and
influence in society! Are they those who have
al ways depended alone on the old gentleman’s
purse? or are they those that have climbed their
way to their position by their own industry aud
energy? True, the old gentleman’s funds, or
persona! influence, may secure you the forms
of respect, but let him lose his property, or
die and what are you! A miserable fledgling
—a bunch of flesh and bones that needs taking
care of.
Again we say, wake up —get up in the morn
ing—turn round, at least twice before break
fast —help the old man—give him now and
then a generous lift in business—learn how,
take the lead, and not depend forever on being
led; and you have no idea hoxv the discipline
will benefit you. Do this, and our word for it,
you will seem to breath ajnexvatmosphere, pos
t-e-s anew frame, tread anew earth, xvake to a
new destiny—aud then you may begin to as
pire to manhood. Take off', then, that ring
from your lilly finger, break your cane, shave
your upper lip, hold up your head, and by all
means, nex’er again eat the bread of idleness,
nor depend on ‘•father.”
—— emi
A Noble Platform.— The young men of
Connecticut, known as “the Junior Sons of
America” were in state Convention for twodays
at Hartford, and closed their sessions with a
handsome supper, eloquent speeches and good
toils ts.
Ist. Americans shall rule America.
2d. The l uion of these United States as
they are one and inseparable.
3d. To silence the clamor of faction, and to
rebuke the busy intrigues of selfish politicians
4th. To see our internal resources improved,
our labor rewarded, our genius fostered, and
our manufactures, agriculture, commerce and
national dignity sustained by au intelligent
American statesmanship.
sth To be educated in American sentiment
and principle, and strengthened in our work as
our ancestors xvere in theirs, bv the inspiration
of that Sacred Book.
Gth. That the suffrages of the American peo
ple for political offices should not be given to
any other than those born on our soil, or rear
ed under the influence of our institutions.
7th. That we will welcome to our shores the
victims of tyranny from foreign lands, and
ottering then a place by our side, we grant them
equal justice under the protection of our Con
stitution.
Bth. Opposition to foreign raillitary organ
izations.
9th. The doctrines of the revered Washing
ton, Jefferson, Adams, and the immortal pa
triots of the Revolution, the last “Sons of ’76,”
who are fast fading from our viexv.
10th. The good of our Country, not party
the success of our principles, not men.
11. A radical change in our naturalization
laws,
12. To spread abroad, and matitain against
all accidents of the time or of defeat, the
waxing or the waning of parties, those three
great charters of American Liberty: the Con*
stitution of the United States, the Declaration
of American Independence, and the Bible.
13. Union above all ‘Side issues,’’ and har
mony in preference to all intrigue ofprix'ate
politicians—eternal hostility to foreign officials
and united protection lo American interest.
—i ———
A lady inquired at a drug store for a derick.
the clerk being stumped, asked xvhat use she
intended to make of it and she said, she had
heard of their being “used to remove piles,” and
she wanted oue. The clerk directed her to a
railroad conductor, where she could find the ar
ticle.
JXTo. 40.
fur the Ueo/gia Citiseu.
Profesor Longfellow's “Hiawatha.”
Having, in a former letter, beyond the possibil
ity of a contradiction, given a true exposition of
the txiMtre of Professor Longfellow's Uutwdtha , I
now proceed to examine not only its essential na
ture, hut to show its origin.
In the Article published in the ‘National Intel
igences,’ by W. D. C. in answer to T. C. P. de
fending Professor Longfellow against the accusa
tion made by the latter touching the resemblance
between Hiawatha and Kalewala. he says that
‘•a similarity of forms or style, is no plagiarism.—
There can properly be no plagiarism, except of
ideas or illustrations.”
Granting what he says to be true—(which is
not the truth,) I will now proceed to show, first,
that the Song of Hiawatha was not modeled after
that of Kalewala—inasmuch as the cxisiere, as well
as esse, of the former cannot be found in the latter.
Secondly, that the rhythm, metre and dialogue—
in short, both the body and soul of the Poem—
were taken from Poems of my own, published
several years ago.
The rhythm of Professor Longfellow’s Hiawa
tha, is. trochaic—the metre being quadrameter
acataleetic, continuously, without paronomasia.—
This was a mere ruse of Professor Longfellow, in
which he deceived nobody but. himself—for Ue
was mistaken in supposing that a blank verse, in
the trochaic rhythm, is less monotonous than one
in paranomasia. The deception is, therefore, two
fold—first, detcrminatelv—secondly, ignorantly—
for no Poem can be perfect, or, even approach
perfection—which is deficient in this necessary
essential.
But all this was only a secondary considera
tion with the Author—the primary one being
vocal resonation—that is, the cautilation of the
vowel sounds—thereby developing his JEsthetio
culture. This is the reason—the very reason—
why he made use of so many Indian names. But
the ‘London Examiner’ and ‘N. Y. Tribune’ both
found fault with the Poem on account of this very
merit—showing how little the two Critics know
of the essential nature of Poetry.
It was Professor Longfellows’s object, in writing
the Poem, as I have before asserted, to give vent
to bis oversoul of the truly musical Idea—that is,
to relieve his oppressed bosom of the burden of
his .song. This if the true Physiology, as well as
Psychology, of the Revelation. But the Revela
tion is not the Apocalypse of a true Prophet of
God—not the essential crystalline Song of a soul
who is all \ oiee—not the overflowing, out-gush
ing of an intuitive fortuitous passion, cantilating
itself away in burning melody for-its own harmo
nious relief—but only an Echo from the true An
gel-land of Poetry—where the Divine Possessions
lie. Professor Longfellow is no Nightingale, but
only a Northern, flaunting, audacious Mocking
bird. This is his true characteristic. He possess
es no originality—not because he is destitute of
taste—for lie is not—but because lie has no soul
no heart—newer having either loved or suffered.
As I have given a true analysis of his abilities,
as a writer, in my unpublished work entitled ‘The
Judgment of Apollo, Given in the Court of the
Muses Touching the Crown-Prince of Pasnassus,’
I shall say no more upon the subject now.
The Critic in the ‘Tribune’ says, ‘ln the compo
sition of this Poem. Mr. Longfellow lias ventured
on a dangerous experiment, attempting to throw
the charms of curious versification and romantic
imagery around the wild and superstitious legends
of savage life.’
Why not say, at once, that he does not know
what he is writing about—4or he does not! Why
not tell the truth, to the everlasting shame of the
Devil, if any such thing were ever Inside of him?
This is what I wish to know ! Yet, when this
same Ninny liamincr—this Epicurean Philosopher
of the Aldrovandus Black-Art. noticed the very
Poem from which Hiawatha was stolen—body
and soul—he merely incidentally touched its in
viting borders—passing if. by, just as Cain did the
Gates of Paradise—feeling intuitively conscious of
his unworthiness to enter it.
But Professor Longfellow, as I shall soon pro*
ceed to show, thought differently—rushing in
through the Angel-guarded Gate in despite of the
two-edged sword which flashed defiance in his
face—wearing upon his delicate body now the in
delible scars of the rudeness of the encounter,
which, like the spirit of Nessus, can never be re
moved with on tearing the skin off.
Yet, this would be Critic of the ‘ Tribune * de
votes three or four columns of that paper to an
exposition of the frailties ofhiS favorite Pedagogue
of the Land of Thanksgiving, Succotash and wood
en nutmegs.
The plagiarism of a Poem consists hot only in
adopting the exisfere of the original, but, also, in
imitating its esse —that is, in illustrating it with
the same ideality,
The Critic in the ‘London Examiner’ says,
‘ Tbe innumerable echoes are one of the most
marked features of the Song of Hiawatha. Like
the Hebrew Poets, whose verses reply to each
other in measured cadence, the Indian language
uevet fails to repeat the more emphatic closing
lines of every section, varying in words, the same
in substance.’
Thus he says, in allusion to the paraflelisim of
the Hebrew Poetry—than which there is nothing
in this world more unlike. The following are the
lines to which lie refers:
“And the thunder in the mountains,
Whose innumerable echoes
Flop like Eagles in their eyries.”
The following are the lines to which he refers
touching the repetition of the first line in the last
—which he calls an “original and effective wild
ness”—thereby proving, most positively, not only
his limitation in reading, but his inability tc criti
cise Poetry:
“You could trace them through the Valley,
By the rushing iB die Spring-time,
By the alders in the Summer,
B^hethitefogintheAut-n.
By the blackhne in the (W inter ,
In the Vale of Tewasentha,
In the green and silent W- _
In a Poem of mine, written m 1842 entitled
J The Vigil in Aiden/ may be found the follow 11 g
lines: