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the countryman.
TURNWOLD, GA., OCTOBER 6, 1862,
Wearing Black.
There is no custom more useless and ab
surd than that of wearing black, or wear
ing mourning for a deceased friend. What
is it done for ? What good does it do the
living or the dead ? Can anyone—dare
anyone say it is sorrow which regulates
this matter, in a majority, or even half the
cases ?
To me it seems like 4 a solemn mocking
of the dead—this clothing the limbs in
mourning long after the heart h$s ceased
to think of the deceased. And is not this
done ? Do we not see persons clothed in
the fashionable babilaments of wo, when
mirth, and laughter, and folly are in their
hearts, and on their lips ? Shall I thus be
mocked when I am dead l My heart, re
volts at the idea, living, and I could almost
turn in my coffin at the grievous wrong,
when dead.
Say what you will, one truth is clear and
cannot be denied. It is not sorrow which
controls in the matter of wearing black.
I wish my proposition understood. I do
not say .those who wear black do not feel
sorrow that their friends are gone. I know
many of them do, as I know many of them
do not. But this I do say : It is not sor
row that controls in the matter. It is fash
ion—heartless, giddy, accursed fashion—a
goddess whom 1 hate at all tin.es, on ac
count of her imperious but idiotic demands,
and her light, giddy, frivolous attributes.
And more than all do I hate her when she
steps between me and my departed friend,
and seeks to set measures to my grief:
when she seeks to give an air to my sor
row : when my affection is to be tested by
the color of a ribbon : when my regrets
are to be bounded by a flimsy piece of
gauze or crape. Away with thee ch !
Godless, 'heartless Deity of Fashion ! Let
me alone, when my friend dies 1 Intrude
not thou upon my silent sorrow! Let me
repair to the grave ol the departed one,
.aid weep in silence and sorrow there, and
let not even the wind hear the moan of my
stricken heart! Go! Fashion, go ! Your
very touch is pollution, your very breath
contamination ! Let me weep—let me sor
row 7 —butbe thou afar off! I tell thee again,
intrude not thou upon the sanctuary of my
silent grief! And when I die, if I have a
friend, let him drop a single tear over my
tomb, and then with the heroism of a man
tread again, as light-hearted as he may,
the path of duty and of life ! But oh !
send not thy heartless minions with their
tawdry, sable show, to mock me in my
grave! Then I shall have no power to
resent the wrong—and even though in life
a wrong-doer I have been, let my death
atone for it all, and let me rest ! Mock
me not then, oh! black and heartless Fash
ion—mock me not!
Popular Superstitions.
“ Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas,
Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala rides ?
Hor. Lib. 2. Ep. ii. 208.
Visions, and magic spells, can you despise,
And laugh at witches, ghosts, and prodigies?
Going yesterday to dine with an old ac
quaintance, I had the misfortune to find
the whole family very much dejected.
Upon asking him the occasion of it, he told
me that his wife had dreamt a strange
dream the night before, which they were
afraid portended some misfortune to'them
selves or to their children. At her coming
into the room, I observed a settled melan
choly in her countenance, which I should
have been troubled for, had I not heard
from whence it proceeded. We were no
sooner sat down, but after having looked
upon me a little while, ' My dear,’ says she,
turning to her husband, ‘ you may now see
the stranger that was in the candle last
night.’ Soon after this, as they began to
talk of family affairs, a little boy at the
lower end of the table told her that he was
to go into join-hand on thursday. ‘ Thurs
day !’ says she : ‘ no, child, if it please God,
you shall not begin upon childermas-day :
tell your writing-master that friday will be
soon enough.’ I was reflecting with my
self on the oddness of her fancy, and won-
deiing that anybody would establish it as
a rule, to lose a day in every week. In
the midst of these my musings, she desired
me to reach her a little salt upon the point
of my knife, which I did in such a trepida
tion and hurry of obedience, that I let it
drop by the way , at which she immediate
ly startled, and said it fell towards her.
Upon this I looked very blank, and, ob
serving the concern of the whole table, be
gan to consider myself, with some confu
sion, as a person that had brought a disas
ter upon the family. The lady, however,
recovering herself after a little space, said
to her husband, with a sigh, * My dear,
misfort unes never come single.’ My friend,
I found, acted but an tinder part at his ta
ble, and being a man of more- good-nature
than understanding, thinks himself obliged
to fall in with all the passions and humors
of his yoke-fellow. ‘ Do not you remem
ber, child,’ say§ she, • that the pigeon-
house fell the very afternoon that our care
less wench spilt the salt upon the table V
1 Yes,’ says he, ‘ my dear, and the next
post brought us an account of the battle of
Almanza.’ The reader may guess at the
figure I made, after having, done all this
mischief. I despatched my dinner as soon
as I could, with my usual taciturnity,
when, to my utter confusion, the lady see
ing me quitting my knife and fork, and lay
ing them across one another upon my plate,
desired me that I would humor her sa far
as to take them out of that figure, and place
them side by side. What the absurdity
was which I had committed, I did not
know, but I suppose there was some tradi
tionary superstition in it : and therefore, in
obedience to the lady of the house, I dis
posed of my knife and fork in two parallel
lines, which is the figure I shall always lay
them in, for the future, though I do not
know any reason for it.
It is not difficult for a man to see that a
person has conceived an aversion to him.
For my own part, I quickly found by the
lady’s looks, that she regarded me as a very
odd kind of fellow, with an unfortunate
aspect : for which reason I took my leave
immediately after dinner, and withdrew to
my old lodgings. Upon my return home,
1 fell into a profound contemplation on the
evils that attend these superstitions follies
of mankind ; how they subject us to imag
inary afflictions, and additional sorrows, that
do not properly coine within our lot. As
if the natural calamities of life were not
sufficient for it, we turn the most indiffer
ent circumstances into misfortunes, and suf
fer as much from trifling accidents, as from
real evils. I have known the shooting of
a star spoil a night’s rest, and have seen a
man in love grew pale, and lose his appe
tite, upon the plucking of a merry-thought.
A screech-owl at midnight has alarmed a
family more than a band of robbers : nay,
the voice of a cricket hath struck more ter
ror than the roaring of a lion. There is
nothing so inconsiderable, which may not
appear dreadful to an imagination that is
filled with omens and prognostics. A rusty
nail, or a crooked pin, shoot up into prodi
gies.
I remember I was once in a mixt assem
bly, that was full of noise and mirth, when
on a sudden an old woman unluckily ob
served there were thirteen of us in compa
ny. The remark struck a panic terror into
several who were present, insomuch that
one or two of the ladies were going to leave
the room : but a friend of mine taking no
tice that one of our female companions was
big with child, affirmed there were fourteen
in the room, and that instead of portending
one of the company should die, it plainly
foretold one of them should be born. Had