Georgia Historic Newspapers

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IN THE MEADOWS.
Y BAYAJID UYUM. *
I li? in the summer meadows,
la the meadows all alone,
With the iitfluiU iky above me,
. A|d the sun on ku mid-dav throne
Tb# smell of the flowerin# grasses
Is sweeter than any rose,
A lid a million of happy insects
Fiog in the warm repose.
• The mother lark that ia brooding
Feels the ana on her wrings,
And the deep* on the noon-day glitter
With the swarms of fuiry things.
From the billowy green beneath me
To till* tatlioink'iSA blue above,
The creature* of God are happy
la the w&riuih of their summer love.
The infinite bliss of Nature,
! feci in every vein;
Tbs life and tin* light of summer
Blossom in heart and brain.
Hut darker than any shadow,
Than thunder—clouds unfurled,
The awful truth arises,
That death i in the world.
And the skv mar beam a. ever,
And never a cloud bo curled,
And the air be living odors,
Hut death is in the world!
Out of the tfeep of tunshitie,
The invisible host is hurled,
There’s life iri the Mimmvr meadows,
Hut death la in the world!
[WHITTEN ma TilK COVPANION ]
A WANDERS MEMORANDA
V 1 t I’ II A .
NO. 1
rHAmuTTvitl.it, Vm , July 6th, IPdn.
Mi r. fit’ t : Two tlnv** npjo, within .
tin* -mml of martial music, ami amid the
a l;malion of a grateful |m*ojl, wo li ft
“ Tin* Gate City*'—the jrid© of Georgia— j
on a jilcajitiro tour through tin* North
The day won warm and the lic it ojqr*
eivc But the Iron IBim*, leaping on
towards the inounUinfc, made his way
thronjh the lovely vallies and pleanant
town** of Cherokee Georgia, our annoy
nnrrii were* forgotten in (lie exhilaration
of tin* . in*. Kvery town and hamlet
.‘• •eiiied alive to the memory c*f ’7*. t Vie
hrntiott.H, with their display of banners,
muGc, with it.*! inspiring influence, and
the orators of the occasion, plainly told
that it ims the amiivcrfciry of that day,
on which, 84 year* aijn, was nuute the
old declaration “ That (In - /moj
Stott:* v't r< f by right and ought to hr J• • • “
Toward* evening we eroded tin* line of
Here, away from homo, 1
t,hull h*yrfiu wjt ftltdoh* l '. TV nrrivcd at
Cleveland, n rural-looking (own -at 04
I*. M. TWC iintry“T"und4f>out*is very
uttr irtr. brirns a valley well adapted to
the raising of grain. • For .some miles Be
fore reaching this place, the eye was
gr i ted. >n tin* one side with green fields
of Indian corn and on the other with
yellow fu Ids of grain; whilst on hoth,
nroho in tin* distance the broken surface
of led hills It win at the close of
the harvesting season, and the yellow
shocks stood like- fteutincUuv • r the plain ; !
Gut >-t asionally would he seen the grace
fill motion of the scythe, as tin* reapers
were leveling the l i t fields of the harvest.
G.ixhllg iipoll these scenes, similar ones
wore reeullcd —my child-hoods home rose
up Before me ‘I he song of it* reaper.-*
w.t heard, and tin m ciinii* of it*
h i\ st.N flash’ and upon the mind, and swept
uvi r the aoul awakening its temK iest
e met; (Ills
11 i\in:; changed ears at (’lowland, we
were again soon rapidly pursuing our
j ‘.rm v We halted at the pictuivsoue
little village of Athens, soon after sunset.
A in re suitable time could not have been
eh ‘ii to lii_hteii its Beaut) 1 mice
It. ird t a hy who “eould'ntseen certain
town for the lo'iiiws.” But wo eoiild’nt
see Athens for the hills. It is emphati
rally a village of hills; But they are
Beautiful Bills, green with gram and
shrubbery. From a distance the Male
Seminary and Female College, among,
other Buil lmga, were **• n, peruhml upon
eounuanding eminences; from the G
lb pot, one corner of the former and the
top of the latter were nil. of tie -e two
fine buildings that could Be <n. Such
is Athens. And as female Beauty is
always more winning when accompanied
with a retiring disposition, so this lovely
vill.i-1 BeeoiiU's more attractive by hiding
behind its hills.
\ tim e hmiis* ride brings us t* Knox
ville, a (deasaut and pr. -peroiis city ol
- in • yen or * ight thousand inhabitants. *
• The I niversity of Fast Tennessee is]
her* Here, also, ia the largest tnaiiii
factory of window glass in the Southern |
Stao Our stay in thin city was But
ihiiiv minutes and that at night. 1 mlci
. h i ru. Uii* ■ twt ac can gel i <ur
i < i idea ot its local ion, or * e any of u*
B untie*’ Its general uppouranco By I
nom ulight, however, was fine and impos
ing V lew miles above Km>xville, we
touched upon the Bank- of the Ho Uto it
and ran up it sixteen mile.. The varied
SC O. i*, f this beautiful river, illumined
By ti” ni"OiiV mild Beams, had an air of
romance that was refreshing to behold
But the cent* changes \ we neared
v! * oil * where we were Ur cr the river,
t - g * *tr ii; the rr v im thi k ns.
THE SOUTII EK N ‘ LI iffß ARY COM PA X 1-0 X .
the moon’* beam* grow pule and dim, and
the motion of the care an they touch the
lofty bridge slackens into a creeping pace
Gradually they begin to crawl over the
<tn h ; and the pas.-enger looks down in
breathless silence upon the scarcely dis
tinguishable waters. The hills on either
side, with their dark forests, and the dim
ueas of the moon, whose light shines more
dimly from the density of the fog, makes
it a scene, grand and terrible, from its
very obscurity. But the pass has been
| made, and our passenger sinks into gentle
j slumbers.
from his repose he is aroused, as he
crosses the same river a hundred miles
! higher up. Ho is now fast nearing the
line of Virginia. Bristol greets his long
ing eyes with its sight, and shortly nftcr
ward his keen appetite with its warm steak
and hot cofTre. Breakfast over, we enter
i the State of Virginia. Virginia/ What
a throng of rceollection cluster around
the name! What noble sons has she
j given to the Republic! and what thril
ling incident* have transpired within her
limits! Her whole story is replete with
miiMii s lor the poet and philosophy for
historians W hat a web of romance
j might I** woven from the record of her
infancy, could some Shakcspcriun hand
my one but u Thackery's) dramatize the
characters of the restless Ituleigh, the
gallant Smith, the jealous Bowlmttan,and
the gentle Indian Princess. Again—in
the days of border strife—days memora
ble on account of the cruelty of the
French invader and the revengeful red
skin—her chronicles increase in interest;
1 I
whilst \ t again, at a later period, there
I opens to us, the still more thrilling and
more lofty story of her mature life,
in the proud deeds and grand results of j
her participation in our eventful Itevolu- ;
tion.
Nt State has given birth to a greater j
number of illustrious men than Virginia. !
IB r hoi 1 is hallowed with many sacred
shrines—-the Birthplace*, the homes, and
the graves of those whom the world
basinet delighted to honor. Here, we
may walk through the classic groves of
Montieello, and view those scenes where
its sago studied so profoundly and taught
the world. T here, we may pause on the
Beautiful lawn of Mt. Vcruoit, and ponder
upon the merit* of him whose name is
“ First in the hearts of his countrymen.”
Not far otf, we may Bend reverently
over the ashes of Madison and Monroe, |
of Bee and Wirt, and of a host of others, i
whose names aro inseparable from their
country's history. W hilst yonder, in the
, little village of Hanover, \v? can almost:
. hear ILA*o burning Words of Patrick
Henry, first awakened tho glowing
fire of liberty in the bosoms of his coun
try men. Here too, w ..six*i n ami nourished
America’s gift’ and orator and * immortal
-tat*'■man llcwhoo remains now sweet
ly sleep far away in his adopted State,
! hem ath the green - * 1 of Ashland, im
bibed those principles Acre on the soil if.
I trgiina, that made him illustrious and
have cm) aimed his memory in every
Amiri an heart.
A State born in the chivalrous age of.
Kli/abcth, she has grown up a worthy
• laughter ot her great parentage. So full
of ioniance, so replete with historic inci
dents, and so honored By the character of
her i- is the State of Virginia, that
no intelligent American who appreciates
hi * p"*itinu as a free citizen, can enter
it* limits for tin- first time, without hav
ing his heart to swell and his bosom t >
■ xpaiul with the emotions of his soul.
Nor is it* scenery unworthy of such a
history On our rout from Bristol t’
B\io hl iirg, lin I miles, Was seen every j
variety ot landscape that could please the :
iy* ami gratify the ta*te At one time i
wo ere- od sonic elevated table land, with ,
it* 1 - mtitul fields of clover in full Bloom, !
and it* yellow harvest* of grain stretch
ing far off in tin* distance. At another,
we d< s ended into a valley, and followed
the cour.-e of a meandering stream through
its fertile mead ; and then we entered the
m aintain*, wound around their craggy
*uß - ami looked upon their duiy bights.
The Beautiful village of \Bl.iiigton,
overlooked By the towering walls of
Martha Washington ! nstitute, has scarce
ly receded from the view, when our eyes
ale gi.rted with a sight, of the clasic
halls of r.inorv and 11 1^ -nry and, its delight
ful vi< mag* 1 hit the velocity •! B K
speed hurries us onward to the Blue
Kid e At the Allegliany llousi*. ivc
pause fßr a moment t*i catch a glimpse of:
the wonders we are üßout to enter. All
‘around rise ih* craggy “ides and t)u* heet
; lino eliltftofd.uk mountains \ tunnel I
i* passed, a gorge fearful to look upon is
crossed; still we elin ; to the mounl iiil*
We make our way along the side of one
jof the two ridges that encloses a valley
Between tin in Far Below, lie* the valley
of the r*amak, apparently about a halt ‘
mile wide, and sleeping :t> quietly an the .
passion* in uii infant* Breast. On the
opposiu* side, ri -i s tin* bold front utid lofty
peaks of one ridge, whilst the steep preci :
’ pices and rugged eli/B of the other over
; hung our heads. To add to the suhblimi j
- ty of the fiecuc, the clouds grow dark, and
their muttering thunder* are rover’herated
above our heads Ami this scene becomes
more interesting for a time, from the
vc • •*n t, i’.-d * w!:* ’ rind
ita course through yon valley, though
Hmall and far from ita mouth, ia neverthe
lean the very same that onoe rolled it*
flood by tho home of Virginia’s strange
but gifted non—John Randolph, of Koan
oak. After having proceeded about three
miles along the aide of the mountain, we de
scended into the valley. Here, the valley
widens and stretches over a distance of
thirty miles up the IBmnoak. And surely a
lovelier luiwcape was never seen by the
eye of man. The numerous villas peeping
through their shady groves, intcrsperoed
with weeping willow. The oak forests,
and the meadow land under cultivation ; j
the extended line of mountains on cither
side, and the lofty peaks of Otter that
rise in the distance are o arranged as to
give the valley an indescribable beauty.
The valley of Wyoming ha* been made
classic by the pen of (’ampbell, but it
may justly be said of the valley of Boan
j oak—
‘ Nature hath made thee lovelier than the power
i Kven of Carapheir* pen cma picture.”
Vet there arc sumr /Mings (I won’t
say won) that can ride through this valley
apparently indifferent to itsbeauties. A* j
we had nearly finished our passage across,
I asked a Boniftiunian how he liked Vir
ginia? From which question he began, |
and made it out the poorest country he
ever saw. ” “ But waving the question
of its fertility, what do you think of
the scenery wa have just passed through?” 1
** <)h it’ll do well enough to look ot, j
but flint won’t Imi/ tlo baby a coat.” The
first clause, with the exception of the last
two words, were spoken iua very iudifler- j
cut manner, but he threw much peculiar
emphasis upon the last expression, as
caused me to believe he had exposed to A
view the inmost rccessos of his heart. I
saw in him the person of whom the poet
] said -
“ A cowslip by tho river’s Grim
A yellow cowslip it was to him,
And it was nothing more.'’
Or if brevity and significance he allowed
to supercede elegance, he might he ap
propriately characterized by the word-*- 1
//,,/.
Having arrived at Binehhurg, wc cross
ed the James river in a canal boat, and
took the cars for this place where we ar
rived on last evening at 11 o'clock.
(TmJottville i> an attractive place, and
the Central Hotel an excellent house.
But as my business is sight-seeing and
not scribbling, I will quit the latter for
the present and get at the former.
NO 2
IVasiiixiiton, l>. C July in.
Mr. Kilitor: On tlic morning upon
i wllich HIV lust WHS (Inti'll, I visited till’
tomb of .KllVrson. Having procured n 1
’ p""l saddle horse, 1 started for Monti-j
cello. After riding some mile anil a half, j
along a l ine with a stone fence on either
side, my road crossed a creek anil then
wound romantically around the mountains:
and up to the summit of the one upon ■
which stands the beautiful residence, now:
owned by ('apt. Levy of the United States
Navy. The ('apt. with hi* family were
absent, hut I was shown within mid saw
many pieces ol furniture used by Jeffer
son.
[wltlTTrs Foil Ml I. COWI'AMOS.J
.AversTA, (In , July 28lh, IBC.O.
Ui:A It “(’ W. H —“A word fitly
spoken is like apples of gold in pictures
of silver.” You have aroused me from
my “ enchanted sleep,” by your gentle
rebuke. \\ bile I, calling and feeling
mvsrlf a fn'ruil to the “ blind man,” and :
his paper, have been sitting and reclin-:
ing in luxurious idleness, through these I
long, enervating, summer days, you have .
been iriihiuj for him, and thus proving 1
tho xiitmity of your friendship,—not 1
content like some of us idlers to “ with
him trill.'*
Hut. perhaps you do not live in tlic
crowded city, dear “('. \Y. ]}.,” a martyr
to dust, lmt weather, red, staring brick 1
houses, and the noise of drays and hiuutt.
Oh! there is very little to inspire one
w ho belonging to the won't go-away club,
resolutely determines to “weather
though” July ami August ill the city
home, rather than join (lie victimised
race of pleasure-seekers, who forsake
comfort at home, for the sake, of paying
a very high price Ihr discomfort abroad.
Mi! 1 have a /flint/ remembrance of
the /m m;o.< found at a watering place— ‘
the narrow rooms, where one's bed, and
j one's “Saratoga Trunk ” scarcely leave j
: breathing space— the nmu.sejncnt of wateli
: ing the failed belle angle for a golden
fish, and all that sort of thing. Hut, 1 ;
w ill not grow bitter, Here in l}iy little j
room til /nolle with everything in its
I place, where I can turn around in my
1 Belle of the South ” without
a chair or table, with plenty of ice-water |
in the refrigerator, plenty of iliac, large i
watermelons, and ripe, juicy pearlies, not
i to mention mellow pears, and early grapes, j
! sent by country friends with compliments
1 can laugh defiance at those jaded, j
worn-out pleasure seekers, who Would
‘ rather “ die in the cause” than he enij
■iderej unj\mlihnitihlt*. Heard,yjTu (TP*^
<>f that family, who being unable to leave
tiiwii because “ papa” had jailed in soinu
dangerous speeulution, closed their trout ‘
doors, and blinds, and lived in the back
rooms shut out from society, to convince
M ulam tlrundy that they had “ gone !
pleasuring?” Oh! fa.|iion what a tyrant!
thy devotees, wlat slates!
But, have 1 been in town ” all ihr
lime f Nay, dear friend, I spent one
pleasant month, the month of roses, in
dear old Madison, emkared to you and I
by so many pleasant memories—and while
there, witnessed CrTe of life's sharp con
trasts. ()n the iftitwnitniit, when a class
mate, fair and well beloved, resigned her
hand to tho warm olasp of a lover-hus
band, another, no less young and beautiful
gave hers to the grasp of one cold and
icy, and the bridegroom wlm led her away
■ was—Death ! The one was borne to a
home made bright and beautiful by youth,
and love—the other, clad in white gar
ments emblematic of her Tirgin purity,
was consigned to the “ narrow house of
the dead.”
No lover’s clasp for those cold hands
Mute-folded on licr breast;
No lover's kiss on those still lips
In tenderness is pressed.
Foul worms must feast upon those charms.
Beneath it grave-stone hid, —
A veil between life’s joys and her—
That veil—m cn/Jtit lid.
But s-lu.il’ wc V’ for the young who
die ? Nay ! for they escape very much
of unhappiness—with hope still bright,
i with faith undimtned, with a love for all
tilings beautiful and good still unsullied,
with life yet new atul joyous, they go out
with a smile to “ die land of thu Hore
; after.” ’
Can you fancy how 1 have entertained
, myself this warm, sultry morning ? Too
buy to write, too stuped to read, I wan
dered about from room to room, teasing
father (usjiile with idle ipieations, watch
pay visits to
‘Miehni'l flying off to where
tho “ queens of the kitchen ” wore mak
ing preserves and other delicacies for j
winter use. “Seeking rest and finding
none,” at last “ some spirit in my feet led
me who kaowa"fc(W9 r - old closet,
where 1 I'olnpl a hag (excuse the plebiun
word which truth compels ijjg to use,j of
J old letters written in the “language.”
j In a moment the conti nts were spread at
my feet, and 1 began tho herculean task
“f looking over about one thousand
missives,- .In not exaggerate penned
by all manner of people. What varied
emotions of sadness, merriment, and
pleasure were excited ! Now and then
a tear trotthl fall as 1 beheld a paquet
tied with Win/; ribbon, telling me that
he or she wlm had loved me once—aye
loves me note else life is a mockery, a
vanity was numbered with the pale
sleepers, whose spirits have gone 1 ’ over
the river’—.the idln fancies of an hour
surviving tho lose MTTtTiil that penciled
them.
lit re, hio, were-unique love letters
which provoked the smile—letters from
disconsolate swains, who vowed that unless
a favorable response was speedily given,
they would either “go to Texas,” or
“commit suicide,” the usual resorts of
disappointed Wooers; One, who had been
most vehement in his vows, I met last
evening on Broadway, walking proudly
with his new-made bride. Is it not as
tonishing how soon they console them
selves with u “ uewMovo.” The change
is made with such rapidity, that one
might almost fancy constant love an idle
chimera of the poet dreamer's brain.
But w ith tin: thermometer at —oh ! I
don’t know where,this seems tonic
the /tuttest day 1 ever experienced. I
cannot speculate or morulito about tho
grantl passion, or grow pathetic over
paquets of old letters, so l will hurry
on.
My “ city by the river ” is insufferably
dull just now—the streets are deserted—
” everybody ” being gone to Europe,
“the North,” or the springs and moun
tains of our own Asa natural
consequence, we have no amusements on
hand. Who coithl be amused where
extra fans arc a necessity to prevent
suffocation ? .Some weeks ago, we rfu/
have The Bunyan Tableau—a panoramic
representation of the inspired dreamer's
vision. 1 wish you could have seen this
magnificent painting—4iL is the most
superior work of the sort it has ever been
my good fortune to behold. The enter
taining Lecturer by well-timed comments
increases the interest, and for a wonder
does not grow diffuse, and tire one as is
! too often the case with 11)<.sc who exhibit
Panoramic views.
As the hour is late, and 1 have promts-
I cd before night-fall to walk “ down town”
with some friends who are anxious to
il.-it the Artliallery of Tucker A Perkin ;
almost the only attractive place in
Augusta, w here one can spend nn’ idle
hour or so, I must close these hasty,
j disjointed remarks. Sotuo day I hope to
’ walk with you through the handsome
rooms above mentioned, where you can
see almost any variety of the “human
t face divine ’ — spk’n^jiife-fiix'il
rat ilJi • i •’ ‘*>’ ?-
i'i. .. 1 -.. i
j'ieiijf*. -i” lr.i“-].l.irit v ‘i “
land you mat to ‘ ‘
in .-lit yu are ;e N . ;.ra I
in Italy
But n.y p.tge : filh-d. and so n
-lIAM \VOO’I
* IM
An Appeal, in In half of Jon nic T. ('amp,
one of (he jntpifs at the Georgia Asylum
for the Blind, at Macon , Ga.
BY CAMIiIK BULL SINCLAIR.
During a short stay in Macon a few
weeks ago, I visited the Asylum for tin*
Blind. Among tho pupils there my at
j ten tion was particularly arrested by n
beautiful little boy of some eight or niui*
j years of age. Little Jounie is the pot*
and favorite of every one who visits the
Asylum. His sweet, gentle voice cannot
| fail to wiu the love of every one. It is
to melt any heart that has one spark of
| pity in it, to see this blind boy, a* his
fingers glide over page after page, and to
watch his Bright, animated countenance
. a* ho reads some passages from the Holy
Bible; or to soe the shade of sorrow that
gathers on that fair young brow, as he
reads some touching tale of pity. Bong
will I remember the story of the “ Little
Lamb,” a* read by Johnnie T. Camp.
The blush of shauic would mantle the
cheek of many a boy to whom God has
given eyesight, could he listen to this
blind hoy, who is already far advanced in
I hi* studies ; although he has never been
j where he could be taught, until within
I the last year. Johnnie is a sweet, in
telligent child, and jiossosses a mind
rarely to be found in one so young, and
if he lives t< be a man, will be both a
great ami good one.
The story of little Johnnie is a sad one
of itself, yet we are told that lie has two .
sisters, who, like himself, have been blind
from birth. Truly this is a sal! tale, and
should arouse the sympathy of every ony !
who may chance to hear it. Now, how
I many boys and girls in our midst, who
I are surrounded By so many blessings, and
. who spend their money for trifling things,
i will save it to aid these little blind child
( ren ? We understand that two or three
j gentlemen residing in Savannah, that
generous city we are proud to call our
! home, have already given several hundred
dollars to the support of little Johnnie
j Camp. How many others will do as they
: have done?
The following poem is an Appeal to all
who have it in their power to contribute
i something to tho relief of this child of
affliction, and we hope it will be cheer
fully responded to by all.
JOHN NIK T. CAMP.
A little hoy with gentle voice,
And font ii res fair and mild ;
With sunny locks, ami nolde brow,
A fair and lovely child.
Tis seldom that we see a child,
With such i gifted mind,
, Ami yet I wonder why it is
That lillc Johnnie’* Mind ?
This little boy has never seen
The beauteous light of day ;
He never saw the summer birds,
That siitg so blithe and gay ;
He never looked iqion the sky,
So beautiful and bright ;
For little Johnnie was born blind,
And never saw the light !
They tell me he has sisters, two—
Hath young and very fair— .
Who share his fatej Oh. life for each,
Must seem so dark and drear ;
Three children of one mother blind!
Oh ! pity drop u tear
For them, nod her whose lot it is,
To guide their footsteps here !
Oh! ye whose wicked heart repine,
Mid all the blessings here,
Turn to that darkened home awhile,
Then murmur if you dare 1
And you to whom a God of love,
In mercy has been kind,
Os your vast store of riches give
A mit to aid thu blind.
1 know full many a generous heart,
We have in this fair land,
Am! pity some kind deed will prompt,
To aid a suffering hand.
Kind hearts said 1, on yonder hill,
Stand Georgia’s greatest pride !*
A home for those to whom kind heaven
Has blessed sight denied.
I seo around me marble halls f
Proud columns towering high ;
Vet not a nobler monument,
Stands ’neath our sunny sky,
Than this—a home that has been reared (
Hv noble hearts and kind ;
Well Georgia * greatest pride may be j
Her refuge for the bliud I
Near by this spot a building stands, J
Where hundreds yearly go ;
A place of learning for the rich,
Tho rb h, but not the poor!
How vast the contrast! Book and see,
The pride ami fashion here,
Then turn to vondor walls And view
The wretched inmah * then* !
Gaze on them, and your very smil
Will sit ken at the sight,
These sons and daughters of our land,
Shut out from all things bright!
(Hi! ye who yearly give to pomp,
Vour hundreds, yes, and more,
You would not miss a trifling sum,
Yet it would bless the poor !
♦Georgia Asylum for the Hlind.
flte.-idcncu of Mr.__Jtjjpi.mnj and the file•-!
ijfcriirn (fompanion.
| WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8.
*
Our Contributors.
Wo give below the names of some of
the Contributors for the Companion:
* Fini.ky Johnson, Prof. M. 11. Boonby,
Pr. A. Mkaxs, “ J. M. Richard-on,
J. M TnoMDhoN. Col. O. A. Bochkasr,
N. M. Crawford, ft. 0., Rev. C. !> Mallory,
Warren Woodvillr, Willie Wakk,
B. Lincoln Vpazey. Rev. J. 11. Kilpatrick, ’
J. 11. Hall, A. J. Smith,
Go!. B. n. Hill, Mrs. Kate TRirrr,
J. Ft. Dkßow, “ M. A. MuOhimmon, !
i Rev. E. P. Birch, *• A. T. I>. Chapman.
J. <\ Brown, Miss (\ W. Baubku,
Martin Arnold, “ IJ. B. Docohkrty, 1
Prof. (\ IB McDaniel, “ Annie It. Blount, j
“ M. P. Kellogg, 4 * Mary K. Keen,
“ I M Go mi no, “ M. A. Gampbkll,
! “ I. N. Loomis, “ V. A. Jrnninuh,
* u J. II Hammond, li Sai.uk A. Reedy.
—.
gkyif* A. M. Jett is authorized to receive
and receipt for subscriptions to the “Gomims
i ION.”
A. A. Green, K j.. of BaFayctte, Ala.,
j is likewise empowered.
w* W. A. Smith, Esq., of Wedowee, Ain.. !
; is also our ageut.
Cheerfulness
Arc you in tlic habit, kind reader, of
indulging in sadness and moroseness ? j
Do you constantly look upon the gloomy
side of the picture of life, and gtieve and
mourn over your misfortunes? If yea,
will you take the advice of one who has
tried the experiment and knows it to be
valuable. Presuming that you will we
j offer you tho following advice.
Put on the habiliments of cheerfulness
i and never doff them, until you have
■smothered out the last spark or inclina
tion to sadness and dejection. You may
habituate yourself to sadness or clicer
j fulness until your mind will naturally
! court one or the other of these conditions
i and you will be happy or miserable accord
ing to choice. There is no greater every
day virtue than cheerfulness. This
quality in man, or among men, is like’
sunshine to the day, or gentle renewing 1
moisture to parched herbs. ‘J lie light of
a cheerful face diffuses itself, and com-!
municalcs the happy spirit that inspires!
it. The sourest temper must sweeten in 1
, the atmosphere of continuous good humor. :
As well might fog, and cloud, and vapor,
hope to cling to the suu-illumed land
scape, as the blues and morosem ss to
combat jovial speech and exhilarating
laughter. Be cheerful, always. There
is no path but will be easier travelled, no
; 1 I
load but will be lighter, no shadow on !
! heart or brain but wall lift sooner in the
presence of a determind ch,/t i follies-, j
It may ut times seem difficult for the
happiest temperd to keep the countenance
of peace and content, but the difficulty
will vanish when we truly consider that
sullen gloom and passionate despair do
nothing but multiply thorns and thivkcu
sorrows. 11l comes to us as providentially
as good—and is a good, if we rightly
apply its lessons; why not, then, chcer
! fully accept the ill, and thus blunt its
| apparent sting? Cheerfulness ought to
I be tho fruit of philosophy—much more j
jof Christianity. What is gained by
’ peevishness and fretful ness.. —by perverse
I sadness and sullenness? If we are ill,
| let us be cheered by the trust that we
j shall soon be in health—if misfortune be
■ fall us, let us be cheered by hopeful
j visions of better fortune—if death robs
us of-the dear ones, let us be cheered by
the thought that they are only gone be
fore, to the blissful bowers where we j
shall all meet, to part uo more.
Cultivate cheerfulness, it only for per
sonal profit. You will do and bear every
I duty and.burthen bettor by being cheer
ful. It will he your consoler in solitude,
your passport and commendator in society.
You will be more sought after, more
trusted ami esteemed for your steady
cheerfulness. The bad, the vicious, may
be boisterously gay and vulgarly liumcrous, 1
but seldom or never truly cheerful. Gen- 1
nine cliuy&llness is ail almost Certain
*l..■ i.■ \oi a and a pun- >j
j heart.
Do Your Best and be Content.
Many who possess energy arc not sat
isfied with the result of their efforts, bqt
they are constantly complaining because
I they have not been'able to mpli-l
their utmost wish. You should do ynuji
; best and then be content with the result,
for it is great fully to lose the
| tion of what you have, by a longing after
| what you have not. Never faint, halt, or
despair because you cannot realize your
ideal and do the thing yu would. Only
do the best you can, and no autboritive
judgment shall condemn you. Your will
may be equal to your ideal, while circuui
j stances may raise all insuperable bar, for
the time being, at least. llow many
I “sons make wreck of talent, in sighing
opportunities to do other and more ‘
in their eircuuistanc . warrant. They
dain tho low rounds of the ladder,
ich most surely load to the high, j
ey have a notion of what is perfect I
jowplishtuent, and tiro unwilling to
,e any half way preliminary step. They
ve no faith in the proverb, “ Half u
f, is better than no bread.” If they
uld study the record, they would
>n learn that the most famous winners
whale loaves, were at. tho start willing
and ready to take any slice they could
get. Our true business in life, is to
make the most of the means and oppor
tunities we have—not to neglect small
advantages, because we cannot have largo
’ ones. By cultivating the littles, we make
it easier to compass the greats. There
never was a master builder, who did not
first serve an apprenticeship. The field
| marshal, was at the out-set, most likely a
soldier in ranks. \Ye must pass through
tho grades before wc can reach the sum
mit. Our own consciences, if well bal
anced, must approve our doing the best
we can. Belter a thousand times, work
out the lesser possible, than to stand
bewailing our inability to do the greater
impossible. Os all lessons, this most
needs wide application in the world.
.Thousands have lived and died without
having accomplished any thing great, for
the reason that they sacrificed each little
that they did accomplish, for that which
they desired and were not able to master.
Integrity of Character
Always be honest, and you will find
that when misfortunes come, with sullen
gloom, it will draw around you friends
w hose aid will boa sure guarantee of
success, l’ruuklin attributed his success
a- a public man, not to bis talents or his
powers of speaking—for these were but
moderate—but to his known integrity of
; character. “Hence it was,” lie says,
that I had so much weight with my
follow citizens. I was but a bad speaker,
never eloquent, subject to much hesita
tion in my choice of words, hardly correct
in language, and yet I generally carried
my point.” Character creates confidence
in men in high station as well as in
humble life. It was said of the first
Emperor \lexander of Russia, that his
personal character was equivalent to a
: constitution. During the wars of the
Fnmde, Montaigne was the only man
among the French gentry who kept his
, castle gates unbared ; and it was said of
him, that his personal character was
worth more to him than a regiment of
horse.
That character is power, is true in a
much higher sense than that knowledge
is power. Mind without heart, intelli
gence without conduct, cleverness without
! goodness, are powers in their way, but
they may be powers only for mischief.
\Ye may be instructed or amused by
them ; but it is sometimes as difficult to
admire them as it would be to admire
: the dexterity of a pick-pocket, or the
| lens- mam hip of a highwayman; Truth
! fiyltiess, integrity, and go- ■■ •;
i!/t hang not on any man’s breißli -Ufowu
the essence of manly character, or, as one
of our old writers has it, “,that inbred
loyalty unto Yiritk which can serve
her without a livery.
When .''tephen, of Colonna, fell into
the hands of his base assailants, and tlu-y
a-ked him, in derision, “ Where is now
your fortress?” “Here,” was his bold
reply, placing his hand upon his heart.
It is in misfortune that the character of
the upright man shines forth with tho
itc-i lustn ; and when all else fails,
he takes stand upoq his integrity and
courage.
Education of Children.
Tile following paragraph is worthy the
attention of parents, teachers and philan
thropist :
Thousands of children, says the (\n
trnl II are injured for life, in body
and mind and character, by, tho ignor
ance and vanity of their parents. They
are not dressed right, fed right, or
taught right. The wisti and effort is to
make them appear pretty and smart, to
treat them like little men and women,
while they are rather young animals who
want plenty of light, air, exercise and
plain nourishing food. The character
may be formed—the heart trained in the
love oi truth and goodness, right princi
ples may be planted in the fresh warm
soil. Nay this sh ttilj be done. Youth
is a mellow season on purpose that it may
be a seed time in this respect. But to
: confine the child with its restless impulses,
for hours in the close school room ; to
i eo-erce it to study and try to understand
subjects beyond its capacities; to load
the memory with masses of crude facts,
fifird teach the tongue to repeat them like
a parrot ; to try to make the child reason
ivlo u bo is fitted only, as yet, to feci, to
wonder and to believe- this is the too
prevalent idea of our age. It fills our
cemeteries with little graves, and gives
the world hundreds of liicii and women,
who have intelligence without principle,
mental activity without judgment, un
sound minds in unsound bodies.
Ill'llK K.
B> O ‘ The Southern ‘Cultivator for Au
gust has reached us, and we know of no ag
icultural in iitlily, North or South that i
| superior to this sterling Journal; espeei
! ally a lien we remember that it may be
i bad for o nr t/ollttc a year. W. S. Junks
I’roprietor, Augusta, (ia.
\V >• ai - pleased to announce the
name of our worthy fellow-townsman, M.
Kkniiiih k, Esq., as a candidate for the
office of Solicitor General, at the ensuing
January election. See card in anothet
column.