Newspaper Page Text
52
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
INTERCEPTED LETTERS—NO. 11.
FROM MISS ANN E.... TO HER COUSIN IN TOWN.
Dear Hetty, —l vow, I was half scared to death,
And my nerves they were all of a twitter ;
I held up both hands, and I drew a long breath,
When I saw in the paper your letter.
I wonder’d when Tom brought the parcel from town,
That you did not enclose me a billet;
Tho’ the seeming neglect to the haste 1 set down,
With which you were called on to fill it.
Then guess my surprise and my vexation, too,
When 1 found they had printed your letter;
I exclaimed to myself, “ Here’s a pretty to-do ;
The editor should have known better.”
How did it all happen, dear cousin, I pray 1
Did you loose it, or did someone steal it ?
I declare, ’twas a shame —in whatever way —
To the public eye thus to reveal it.
Only think ! all your details of shopping to be
Laughed at by the students in College :
1 doubt not they read them with wonderful glee ;
They’d rather learn nonsense than knowledge.
Then the under-skirts, hair-pins and white cotton
Oh Hetty ! I feel my cheeks flushing; [hose,
’Tis no fault of mine, or of yours, I suppose,
But that cannot keep me from blushing.
But, “ ’tis no use to cry over spilt milk,” they say,
And so here’s a truce to vexation:
Your letter itself was so lively and gay,
That it really deserved publication.
I thank you, dear cousin, for all the kind care
You displayed in your various selection ;
The dress and the mantle are loves, I declare,
And their color just suits my complexion.
The slippers are beauties, and I think you would say
That my foot looks exceedingly pretty:
Now you know that I shouldn’t run on in this way
To any but you, cousin Hetty.
I’ve tried the new music, but then it’s a bore
To play when there’s nobody dancing ;
I’ve read the new novel, (I wish you’d sent more,)
And thought it was really entrancing.
The gloves that you sent me arc one size too small,
I wanted them six and three quarters;
But they’ll answer for Fanny—and pa says that’s all
Tho advantage of having two daughters.
I shall not come to Athens in August, I fear,
For uncle declares lie’s not going;
Tho’ he’s not missed a season this many a year,
And he may change his mind —there’s no knowing.
I had a long letter from M — t’other day,
Who says that Miss L.’s to be married;
Tho’ in all such affairs I regard you au fait ,
And reports of this kind will be varied.
“ Our love to dear Hetty !” thus runs the command
From pa and ma, uncle and Fanny ;
And accept all the love that your heart can demand
From yours, most devotedly, ANN E.
®ljc (Dorking itlan.
PROFESSIONAL AND SCIENTIFIC
KNOWLEDGE.
Allusion is elsewhere made to the superior
advantage of skilled over unskilled labor.—
To attain the highest possible skill in the de
partment of work in which a man is engaged,
should be an honorable ambition. Be not
satisfied with performing any branch of labor
in a slovenly or barely tolerable manner- try
to make your work excel in point of accuracy
and taste; strive to improve on old usages ;
be anxious to please; for it is by all these
means, along with a trustworthy steadiness,
that a man gets forward in any profession.
The good workman will always command the
best price, provided trade is left free, and em
ployers are allowed to exercise a discretion.
The arrangement enforced in some trades,
that the slow and indifferent workman shall
be paid equally with the claver and zealous,
is an ingenious contrivance to keep down
ability, and to bring the world to a dead lev
eL
But a man should not he satisfied with be
ing merely skilled in his handicraft. He
ought, if possible, to make himself acquaint
ed with the principles of the operations in
which he is concerned. If, for instance, he
be a dyer, he should not rest contented with
knowing exactly what ingredients will pro
duce certain tints, but ascertain by inquiry
why such is the case. This will cause him
SQiSii'MM H.illftlSAili'tf &&&§;?‘If 1
to study practical chemistry ; and in the
course of his investigations, he may perhaps
make discoveries valuable to himself and the
public. Independently, however, of any chance
of making improvements in his profession,
much good is gained by investigations into
first principles. A man who goes through a
routine of labor in order to produce certain
results’ without knowing why such results
are effected, is said to act empirically. He
acts just as a machine would act when put
in motion. Is there any honor in being like
ened to an unreasoning machine? We think
not; and it is with the view of rousing work
men to a sense of what is becoming in this
respect, that we take the liberty of speaking
so frankly. Fortunately, there are now few
towns in which there are not mechanic’s in
stitutions and libaries, through whose aid
knowledge the most profitable and agreeable
may be acquired.
‘‘The laboring man,” says the Rev. H.
Mosely, in his report on Education, “may
have been taught many things at school; but
practically, that which is associated with the
earnings of his daily bread, is that which will
remain in his mind. He has found that task,
one which, if it did not fill up the full mea
sure of his time, occupied at least all his
thoughts. To know, then, the secret that lies
hidden in the matter on which he works, as
sociated as the secret is with his craft; to re
flect upon it—to understand it—in secular
matters; this is the proper sphere of his
knowledge. Let it not be said that it is a
narrow sphere. On the contrary, that is a
wide domain which is embraced in the knowl
edge of any one fragment of the universe, for
it is united by great general laws with
a knowledge of the whole. Some of such
fragment lies before every working man. —
To tell him that he is shut out from it the
exercise of thought, or that the proper func
tions of his intelligence—with respect to se
cular things—lie rather in some other path
than that, is, to a certain extent, to contravene
the order of God’s providence with respect to
him.
“ Nor need the workman think, however
humble be the craft he exercises, or common
tlie form of matter on which he is called up
on to labor, that the science of it is a thing of
small account. Nothing is of small account
which comes from the hand of God, or any
truth which is a manifestation of the Divine
mind. The man who ha£acquired the knowl
edge of a law of nature, holds in his hand one
link of a, chain which leads up to God. It IS
the development of a truth which was pro
nounced before the foundations of the world
were laid. In the eye of philosophy, the
matter which cumbers it fulls off, and it is
seen intrinsically as beautiful when coming
from one concealment as from another —
when developed from the rude fragment of a
rock, orTrom a sunbeam—when found in the
organization of an insect, or in the mechanism
of the heavens.”
“ It is in the separation of labor from that
science or knowledge which is proper to
every form of it, that consists of the degrad
ing distinction of a class of the community
(in the language of the manufacturing dis
trict) as “hands.” “ Hands /”—Men who
take a part all their lives long in manufactur
ing processes, involving the practical applica
tions of great scientific truths, without ever
comprehending them—men, who have before
their eyes continually mechanical combina
tions, the contrivance of which they never
take the pains to inquire into—men, in respect
to whom the first step has never been made
which all these things would have continued,
the first impulse given which these would
have carried on—men, who, with the subjects
of thought all around them, and with every
thing to impel them to the exercise of it, nev
er exercise thought: and so, the obvious means
of their education being passed, they remain
always “hands.”
“I know how many are the objections rais
ed to this view of the functions of education.
We are told of the oppositions of matter and
mind, and of the circumscribing and deaden
ing effects of matter upon thought. As
though matter were not full of the elements of
thought, and the appointed field for its exer
cise to those whose avocation it is to subdue
it to the uses of man ; and as though, whilst
the power over outward things is enlarged by
the exercise of reason and reflection, the in
ward life did not also gather strength.”
1
A HINT TO BLACKSMITHS.
The cutting of bars of iron or pipes, with a
chisel, is a laborious and lardy process. By
the following mode the same end is attained
more speedily, easily, and neatly—bring the
iron to a white heat, and then, fixing it in a
vice, apply the common saw, which, without
being turned in the edge, or injured in any re
spect, will divide it as if it were a carrot.
TAILORS.
Many eminent men have served their time
at tailoring. Thomas Woolman, a native of
New Jersey, who first suggested the idea of
abolishing the slave trade, wasa tailor by trade.
He published much on the subject, and went
to Europe to consult distinguished men res
pecting the topic, where he died of the small
pox in 1772.
Sir John Hawkwood —the first English
General. —was also a tailor. His historian
says of him—“He turned his needle into a
sword, and his thimble into a shield.” He
died in 1794. In Heddingham there is a mon
ument erected to his memory.
John Stowe the antiquarian, who died in
London about the year 1600, at the age of
80 years, was a tailor.
John Speed the distinguished historian,
served his apprenticeship at the same trade.
Let our tailors be encouraged. Many an
eminent man, besides those we have mention
ed above, has arisen to usefulnes and honor,
from this trade. No class of men among us
are more industrious—and very few more in
telligent.
Southern (Eclectic.
ON LEAVING FLORENCE,
BY THE LATE RICHAIID HENRY WILDE.
Farewell, fair Florence! not, I hope, forever—
Once more I yet may see thee—who can tell 1
From thee and thine, it is a pang to sever
I had no thought to feel again—Farewell!
Florence, farewell! the memories earthly-cherished,
Doom’d for long years in my heart’s core to dwell,
By Time, and Death, and chance, and change, have
perished,
Thou and thine only now arc left —Farewell!
Farewell! farewell! and if indeed forever—
The thoughts untold that in my bosom swell,
Can never be forgotten—never, never !
Blessings on thee and thine, Florence—Farewell!
Farewell once more ! If the enfranchised spirit
May haunt the spot it loved in life so well,
Till earth dissolves, with all it doth inherit,
Mine shall be with thee, Florence, still —Farewell!
1
THE RAINBOW AND THE CLOUD.
AN APOLOGUE.
The Spirit of the Storm had swept by on
his dark pinions. The elements, which, at
his bidding, had joined in fierce though brief
conflict, had sunk again to rest; and the suc
ceeding calm was the deeper for the tumult.
The pall which Nature had flung over the fair
sky during the strife, was already half with
drawn, revealing in unveiled and freshened
splendor the westering orb of day. At this
moment there appeared in the East—like an
angel of light emerging from the shadows of
the tomb—a magnificent Rainbow. Proudly
and gracefully it rested on the black horizon,
exulting in the perfect development of its ex
quisite form, and the beautiful harmony of its
hues. Suddenly a cloud passed over, and ob
scured a portion of its beauty. The Rainbow,
glowing deeply with anger,'thus passionate
ly addressed the intruder :
“What meanest thou, dark and gloomy
thing, by thus casting thy noisome shadows
upon my beautiful form ? Wherefore dost
thou exist? What purpose canst thou sub
serve in the fair and angel-peopled sky ?
None, 1 am sure, unless it be to conceal the
splendor of more brilliant creatures. Thou
passest over the face of the glorious sun, and
the warm earth grows chill in the shadow. —
Thou hidest the fair moon from the ardent
gaze of the poet and the lover! Thou darest
to obscure my sevenfold radiance from the ad
miring gaze of mortals! Thou robest the
smiling sky in sorrow ! Thy form is uncome
ly, and all who look upon thy gloomy coun
tenance, and thy tattered raiment, wonder, ev
en as I do, why thou art permitted to dwell in
these pure and lofty regions! The caverns
and the dark places of the earth would be fit
ter haunts for thee and thy race. 1 would
there was no cloud in the sky to pall my
sight!”
The Cloud stopped his slow-rolling chariot
wheels at the harsh and unwonted sound of
the Rainbow’s voice, and a darker hue over
spread his swarthy features, as he listened to
the upbraidings of the fair complainant. But
it passed instantly away, and he replied in
tones as soft and musical as the murmurings
of a zephyr:
“Thou art angry with me without a cause,
most fair yet ill-judging Rainbow ! Hadst
thou but known thine own origin, thou wouldst
not ha\e chided me. Hark and gloomy as I
am, and presumptuous as it seems for me to
appear among the brighter glories of the uni
verse, —sometimes veiling their splendor,—[
know that thus it hath pleased the Universal
Author to create and appoint me ; and if thou
wilt listen a moment to my words, thou wilt
learn that He who gave thee thy gorgeous ap
parreling, has made thee, also, dependant up
on me and my proscribed race for the daily
renewal of thy beauty. Thou art, oh fair
being, a thing of shadows! the child of the
Sunbeam and the Raindrop! The latter is my
own offspring; to the former I owe my own
existence. Without me thou art not! and
when thy present canopy of clouds shall be
dispersed, thy proud throne, too, will have
passed away.”
As he ceased speaking, the breath of the
Wind-Spirit scattered the Clouds, and the
Rainbow, with all her charms, faded utterly
from sight.
As the Rainbow is the child of the Storm
in Nature, deriving its existence only from the
strife of the elements, so is Hope (the Bow of
Promise to the sinking soul) the offspring of
the storms of life—the sorrows and the trials,
and the tears which belong to the lot of our
earthly pilgrimage. When the clouds of ad
versity gather thickest, and the tempest rages
most wildly, Hope for the time is overwhelm
ed; but speedily springs up again in beauty,
the brighter for the storm! —Orion Magazine.
our Boutl of |)uml).
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S.
Mr. and Mrs. Fitzroy Timmins live in Lil
liput street, that neat little street which runs
at right angles with the Park and Brobdignag
Gardens. It is a very genteel neighborhood,
and I need not say they are of a good family.
Especially Mrs. Timmins, as her mamma
is always telling Mr. T. They are Suffolk
people, and distantly related to the Right
Honorable the Earl of Bungay.
Besides his house in Lilliput street, Mr.
Timmins has Chambers in Figtree Court,
Temple, and goes the Northern Circuit.
The other day, when there was a slight
difference about the payment of fees between
the great Parliamentary Counsel and the So
licitors, Stoke and Pogers, of Great George
Street, sent the papers of the Lough Foyle
and Lough Corrib Junction Railway to Mr.
Fitzroy Timmins, who was so elated that he
instantly purchased a couple of looking-glass
es for his drawing-rooms (the front room is
16 by 12, and the back a tight but elegant
apartment, 10 ft. 6 by 8 ft. 4,) a coral for the
baby, two new dresses for Mrs. Timmins, and
a little rosewood desk, at the Pantechnicon,
for which Rosa had long been sighing, with
crumpled legs, emerald-green and gold mo
rocco top, and drawers all over.
Mrs. Timmins is a very pretty poetess (her
“Lines to a Faded Tulip,” and her “Plaint
of Plinlimmon,” appeared in one of last
year’s Keepsakes,) and Fitzroy, as he im
pressed a kiss on the snowy forehead of his
bride, pointed out to her, in one of the innu
merable pockets of the desk, an elegantly ru
by-tipped pen, and six. charming little gilt
blank books, marked “My Books,” which
Mrs. Fitzroy might fill, he said, (he is an Ox
ford man, and very polite,) “ with the delight
ful productions of her Muse.” Besides these
books, there was pink paper, paper with
crimson edges, lace paper, all stamped with
R. F. TANARUS., (Rosa Fitzroy Timmins,) and the
hand and battle-axe, the crest of the Timmin
ses (and borne at Ascalon by Roaldusde Tim
mins, a crusader, who is now buried in the
Temple Church, next to Serjeant Snooks,)
and yellow, pink, light-blue, and other scent
ed sealing-waxes, at the service of Rosa when
she chose to correspond with her friends.
Rosa, you may be sure, jumped with joy,
at the sight of this sweet present; called her
Charles (his first name is Samuel, but they
sunk that) the best of men ! embraced him a
great number of times, to the edification of
her buttony little page, who stood at theland
ing; and as soon as he was gone to Cham
bers, took the new pen and a sweet sheet of
paper, and began to compose a poem.
“What shall it be about?” was naturally
her first thought. “ What should be a young
mother s first inspiration?” Her child lay on
the sofa asleep, before her; and she began in
her neatest hand—
LIN E S
ON MV SON, BUNGAY DE BRACY GASHLEIGH TYM
MYNS, AGED TEN MONTHS.
Tuesday.
“ How beautiful! how beautiful! thou seemest,
My boy, my precious one, my rosy babe !
Kind angels hover round thee, as thou dreamest;
Soft lashes hide thy beauteous azure eye which gleam
est.
“ Gleamest ? thine eye which gleamest?
Is that grammer ?” thought Rosa, who had
puzzled her little brains for some time with