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LITEJiAfiY
J'cmpfrana (Crusader.
PBWFIELD, .GEOBaiA.
h. LINCOLN TEAZEY Editor.
THURSDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 4, 1858^
Ocb readers will no doubt be disappointed at
uot finding anything from our associate Editress,
Mm. Bryan, in the present Issue. We hod allot
ted the portion of the first page which is devoted
to reading matter to her; but unfortunately, all
the communications which she has sent for this
paper are entirely too long to be compressed in
so small a space. Rather than spoil them by divis
ion, we have concluded to let them lie over for
the present. Hereafter, however, our readers
may expect to find these colu “its filled by the
chaste productions of her pen. On the first page
will be found “The Recompense” by Emma Em
erald, which is continued from our third number.
We regretted exceedingly having to separate it,
but under the circumstances it was unavoidable.
Our correspondents must bear in mind that we
are publishing a newspaper, not a hundred-paged
magazine. We will be extremely thankful to any
and all who have the ability to write, to favor us
with their contributions; but be short.
The exercises of our University were resumed
on the Ist inst. under very favorable auspices.
The old students, with but few exceptions, have
returned, while a very respectable number of new
ones have presented themselves as candidates
for admission. With an able, experienced and
laborious Faculty, Mercer University yields pre
cedence to no Institution in the South, in point
of advantages for securing a thorough education.
Our Pastor is in ecstasies. Broad smiles of joy
illuminate his ahvays-good-natured countenance
from the rising to the setting of the sun. You
can perceive at a hundred yard’s distance that he is
vastly tickled about something. Whence all this
happiness? A man-child has been born into the’
world, who, if no ill befall, may ere long salute
his ear with the long coveted name, Father! So
mote it be.
The present winter has been as unprecedented
for the mildness of the weather as lor its extreme
severity in monetary matters. As yet, we have
had no weather that could be called cold. We see
that many of our contemporaries are deprecating
in very lugubrious style the failure of the ice crop.
In our view of the case, there is no crop with
which we could more readily dispense. A failure
of the fruit crop, which is very likely to transpire,
would be a much more serious loss.
Did you ever, reader, calculate the cheapness
of a newspaper ? Do so; it will open your eyes
to some facts which you have not hitherto consid
ered. The paper you get for two dollars a year
costs you four cents a copy, or a little over twice
what the paper cost before a mark of ink had
been impressed upon its surface. A vast amount
of mental labor, which you cannot estimate, has
been expended in the preparation of the matter.
Perhaps the brief paragraph over which you
glance in fifteen minutes required hours to be
written. Then the labor of the compositor—the
patiently-taking down and setting up thousands
of small pieces of metal—must be performed.
Take all these into consideration, with many
other outlays which have to be made in getting
up a single number, and you will come unavoida
bly to the conclusion that a newspaper, be it
good, bad or indifferent, is the cheapest bargain
a man can make.
“ All right” is once more the cheering sound
in our office. We have buffeted through our sea
of troubles and again stand on safe ground, we
hope, free from such troubles for some time to come.
One iasue we have had to lose, but this we hope
to make up to our readers, if not in number, at
least in quality. Our Printers are now up, and,
alas! “ copy” has assumed its same old dismal
sound.
ANGRY WORDS.
poison drops of care and sorrow.
Bitter poison drops are they—
Weaving for the coming morrow
Sad memorials of to-day.
Angry words! Oh, let them never
From the tongue unbidden slip—
May the heart’s best impulse ever
Check them e’er they soil the lip.
What a hateful, disagreeable thing is an angry
word. How entirely different, both in char
acter and results, from the kind language of ben
evolence, or the soft word that turneth away
wrath. It is one of the worst forms of speech
that can proceed forth from the mouth of man.
It is doubly cursed ; it brings to the speaker re
morse and shame, often bedewing his cheek with
the tear of repentant guilt; and it draws up the
heart s bitterest waters in the breast of him to
whom it is addressed. The lash or the dagger are
ofttimes less cruel than an angry word.
“Anger is a brief insanity,” was sung by the
most charming of Latin Poets; and who is there
that ever experienced this most disagreeable of
passions who will not endorse the remark? Then,
all the higher faculties of the mind and the best
feelings of the heart are subjected and hushed by
one mastering emotion. Reason, conscience,
judgment are all powerless in the fierce tumult.
The claims of friendship or the pathetic appeals
of suffering are alike disregarded. In moments
like this, a man often commits deeds which an
after-life of contrition and virtue cannot expiate.
Anger has played no insignificant part in the
history of mankind. Upon the vast stage of hu
man action, it has too often rendered life a trag
edy, the scenes of which were made up of thril
ling horrors. It has hnbruted man's nature and
i caused him to perform deeds of cruelty which
might cause.demons to weep tears of blood. It
has created within him a savage malignity that
would enable him to look with a smile at the con
* vulsions of his agonized victims and listen to
their dying gasp with keen delight. It has driven
him on in a course reckless alike of fame and for
tune, outspeeding even the tempting phantoms
which led him on to destruction. Nothing has
ever been too sacred to feel the withering power
of its curse. It has broken the bonds of the most
closely connected brotherhood and arrayed in
deadly hostility those whom religion should have
united in the holy links of love. Than anger, a
more fell agent never rose from the lower pit to
blast man’s happiness and ruin his soul.
There is, however, a legitimate indulgence of
anger, and when confined to this, no evil conse
quence may result. The principle of resentment
was not implanted in man to lie forever dormant.
There are times when a man is not only justifia
ble in bring angry, but it is actually a matter of
duty that he should be so. But he must be care
ful that it be not untimely or unproportioned to
Hhe cause. It is this difficult exercise of power
that renders it more glorious for one to govern
his own spirit than to conquer a city. “Bo angry
*md sin not,” is the injunction of scripture; and
he Vq, obeys it must not indulge that anger
wAich murder a bosom-friend in its high
*rrought phrensv. j.
But anger is neitiitv safe or desirable even
where, in its exercise, we could be blameless. It
is never a source of happii^i;—never eases one
heartach; and though it may avenge an injury, it
cannot take away its sting or repair the mischief.
If resentment be necessary for defence, let the
feeling subside when the wrong is averted, and
permit not the sun to go down upon your wrath.
The late insurrection and war in India has ren
dered that country as much talked and writ
i ten of as in the days of Warren Hastings and the
Begums. All the British periodicals are teeming
with articles on the country and the character,
manners and customs of its inhabitants. Al
j though the English have been settled in Hisdos
| tan for more than a century, it is yet to a great
extent an unknown land to the nation generally,
j and still more so to us. Hence, many of the des
criptions of its scenery and institutions are full of
I interest and novelty. We take from a paper in
Blackwood the following account of
CASTE IN INDIA .
“This institution divided mankind arbitrarily
into four classes, all separate, and differing in
rank, degree and privileges: and asserted as its
principle, that this division emanated from Deity
itself. There was the first or superior class, to
whom was attached a holiness which was supposed
to place them above the common laws of human
ity. These issued forth, ‘twas believed, from the
mouth of the god, and were the expressions of
his will and wisdom, and to them was intrusted
the interpretation and legislation of Divine laws.
They were the Brahmins, the hereditary priests,
judges and legislators, who alone had access to
the iioly books, and to whom was attributed a
sanctity and precedence which placed a xj one of i
the order, however low his office might be, above
kings, princes or civil dignitaries. From the arm,
the limb of might, came the Kshukuaa,, the re- |
presentatives of power, the warriors, the rulers, ,
the executors of law and property. These formed |
the second order. The Brishyas, the artists, ar- |
tisans, traders, agriculturists sprang from the ;
thigh and constituted the order of industry and
skill. From the foot, the lowest member, crawled
the Soodras, the hewers of wood and drawers of
waters, the diggers and delvers, the men whose
destiny it was to serve their brethren. Here we
have a priesthood, aristocracy, a middle and lowe n
class—no uncommon ordination among men. ;
But in the hereditary transmission of a class, in j
the inviolable maintenance of its privileges and j
distinctions, we see a principle which has seldom *
been long adhered to in the polities of the world.
The same distinctions have often existed,- but
they have generally been established by circum
stances, and been open to change and compe
tition, and been attached to position. The king
was king in rank and authority ; the noble was
noble in station and precedence; the trader
stqod according to his grade; and any man ris
ing from one class to another would assume the
superiority of the grade which he had attained.
The system of caste fixed at man’s birth the class
to which he and his were to belong forever. No
circumstances, no individual energy or act, could
change his destiny. Crime might degrade him,
but no merit could raise him. The law of caste
did not (as is ofton supposed, and as it did in the
polity of Egypt) restrict men to their hereditary
pursuits, bat it enacted that the distinction should
cling to him, whether king or menial. The Soo
dra might, and did, especially in the latter days,
attain power and sovereignty, but he was still a
Soodra. The lowest Brahmin Beggar would des
pise him as inferior, and refuse to eat with him,
or sit on the same mat.”
In another article in the same number, we find
the following description of
THE CHURRUK POOJA OR WHIRLING WORSHIP:
“ The devotees at this festival allow two large
iron hooks to be fastened into the fleshy part of
their backs, immediately below the shoulder
blades; a linen bandage is then frequently (but
not always) tied over the part to prevent the flesh
giving way; after which the devotees are hoisted,
by means of a rope attached to a high pole erec
ted on a platform, to a fearful height in the air,
and made to gyrate in wide circles. They gener
ally remain up, swinging about, for fifteen or
twenty minutes, but they are lowered at any time
on their making a sign. Instances sometimes oc
cur in which the flesh and muscles of the Oack
give way, and the devotee is dashed to the ground
with fatal violence; but accidents are rare, and
the ordeal is not regarded with the apprehension
or aversion which we should expect. In many
cases the saints are “ old hands,” who perform
the rite from motives of gain and reputation, and
who go through their martyrdom with great cheer
fulness and self-satisfaction. Seldom do even
novices wince when the hooks are fastened, and
the subsequent swinging in the air is invariably
borne with composure, often with enthusiasm.
Sometimes the devotee smokes his pipe while
whirling in his lofty gyrations! It is usual for
the devotee to take up with him fruits and flow
ers in his girdle, which he throws down to the
crowd, who—especially the female portion—laugh
ing and shouting with delight, rush eagerly to
catch them in their hands, or in umbrellas inver
ted to receive them. Sterile women are especially
anxious to obtain the fruit scattered by these de
votees of Siva, as a means of wiping away their
reproach ; and wealthy childless ladies frequently
send their servants lo the festival to procure some
of the auspicious fruit for their mistresses to eat.
Rewards in a future life are thought to attend
the performance of this singular worship; but
with the exception of what may bo called the
professional martyrs, the greater portion of those
who go through the Churruk Pooja do so in ful
filment of a vow made to obtain some temporal
good. The purely disinterested motives and ten
der affection displayed in many of these cases
cannot fail to excite our warmest sympathy.
Among the votaries at one of these festivals, we
read of a man who, though childless himself, had
vowed to undergo the torture in order to save the
life of a younger sister’s child. * The sister, with
her little one in her arms, perfectly restored to
health, was present; and her looks sufficiently
bespoke her intense gratitude and love for the self
denying brother who thus redeemed the vow he
had made for her sake.’ The next was ‘a young,
delicately-formed, sweet-looking woman, who of
fered herself to this exposure and agony for the
sake of a relative no more nearly connected
with her than her husband’s brother.’ Another
rotary was an aged mother, whose prayers (she
believed) had saved the life of her-son. ‘The
vow had been made, and the deliverance affected,
eleven years before; but the poor people had
never been able till then to incur the expenses of
the offering to the god, and the feast with which
these solemnities are always closed. With the
utmost heroism this aged woman endured the
whole, shouting aloud with the spectators, and
scattering her flowers with flurried enthusiasm.
Her son, a man of thirty years, was present; and
in a state of greater excitement than his mother,
to whom he paid the most anxious attention, and
to whose devotion he evidently believed he owed
the continuance of his life.”
The same writer has a beautiful paragraph on
THE UNIVERSALITY OF WORSHIP :
“How striking a proof is it of the strength of
the adoring principle in human nature—what an
illustration of mankind’s sense of dependence
upon an unseen supreme—that the grandest
works which the nations have reared are those
connected with Religion! Were a Spirit from
some distant world to look down upon the sur
face of our planet as it spins round in the solar
rays, his eye would be most attracted, as the
morning light passed onward, by the glittering
and painted pagodas of China, Biovneo, and Ja
pan—the richly-ornamented temples and stupen
dous rock shrines of India—the dome-topped
mosques and tall slender minarets of Western
Asia —the pyramids and vast temples of Egypt,
with their mile-long avenues of gigantic statutes
and sphinxes—tho graceful shrines o’’ classic
Greece—the basilacas of Rome and Byzantium—
the semi-oriental church-domes of Moscow—the
Gothic cathedrals of Western Europe—and as the
day closed, the light would fall dimly upon the
ruins of the grand sun-temples of Mexico and
Peru, where, in the infancy of reason and human
ity. human sacrifices were offered up, as if the
All-Father were pleased with the agony of his
creatures! Nowhere has that adoring principle
reared grander temples than in India. Egypt
may surpass them in vastness, and Greece out
does them in lovely symmetry; but as exhibiting
a marvellous combination of grandeur, beauty
and variety, the religious edifices of India find no
parellel in any single country. The stupendous
rock-temples of Bombay—the magnificent and
lofty-doomed topes of Ceylon—the gorgeous sculp
ture-covered shriees of Southern India—the all
elliptical temples of Orissa—the lovely and ex
quisitely finished ones of Guzerat, combine with
the Mohametan mosques and Minarets of Hin
dos tan to form an unsurpassable assemblage of
architectural art and skill.”
Sunflower seeds are said to be the best known
remedy for founder in horses. As soon as ascer
tained he is foundered, mix one pint of the Beed
whole with the feed, and an entire cure may be
expected.
A land speculator out West, in defending his
“track” against the charge of insalubrity, declar
ed it was so healthy “around there,” and so dif
ficult to die, that the inhabitants had to draw \
thfeir last breath with a corkscrew.
INK - PRO P 8 .
Thought, quickened by umpiring fancy’# touch,
Feefs all her inward force and boundless range,
Surmounts the earth and bathes herself in clonds.
■* ‘Twould take angel from above
To paint th’ immortal soul.”
There are well-springs of feeling in the breast of
every man which the world knows not, and
of which he may be unconscious until some circum
stance shall arouse them to a living flow. Some
are fresh and pure as the underground fountain
,on which a sun-ray has never lighted or a fetid
vapor blown; others as foul as the dark cess-pool
in which every corrupting sediment has found a
lodgment. Some, like the bright bubble of ocean
; foam, glitter afar off, but when touched are full
of emptiness. The sum of their existence is to
show, and when the light sheen that made them
noticed has departed, they are no more.
There is not on earth a greater joy than the
contemplation of a human heart as it was in its
pristine purity, or as it would be now, if relieved
of the corrupting passions that enthral its pow
ers. All forms of material beauty, when compar
ed with this, sink into insignificance in their
power of conferring pleasure. The sun’s rise in
glory and his setting in splendor, the clouds
painted in a thousand mystio dyes, the flowers,
arrayed in vestments of more than regal splendor,
apeak not to the inner soul as eloquently as a
heart in which pure innocence has mode its
abodes. Such may never be seen in our present
state of existence; but we can well imagine it to
be one among the joys which render Heaven a
neat of bliss,
There is something grand, but solemn, in draw
ing aside the veil which education and fashion
have thrown over the human heart and gazing on
the unfathomed depths within. In many cases,
It would be more of a pain than a pleasure.
Much that is sorrowful to contemplate would be
seen. In many would be found a wild desert
waste, where not a flower has survived the primal
fall; and even though here and there one blooms
in beauty, the loathsome trail of the serpent has
marred its loveliness and left its venom there.
Alas! how many glean the poison, but pass the
flower unheeded.
Some men dye their thoughts only in the black
fluid that fills their inkstands, while others tinc
ture each in the heart’s rich Every
character that they impress upon the virgin page
is a living, speaking messenger from the inner
self, whose essence is far hidden in the recesses
of mystery. Like spirits of the vasty deep, they
require some magic influence to bring them from
their haunts; but when brought out, they deliver
their responses with far more clearness than was
ever spoken from the shrines of heathen temples.
He alone who has held frequent communion with
those can teach in song what he has learned in
suffering, and he alone is nature’s true poet.
Mehorv is often as pleasant, and always a more
safe companion of the soul, than hope. Hope
sometimes conjures up bright visions, which, like
enchanting tempters, lead the man on to the com
mission of blackest crimes. But memory posses
ses a moral power. Who can sit on the grass
grown mound where a mother reposes, think of
her sweet, ealm smiles, and her soft, kind voice,
and then go away with one evil thought in his
heart! Ah! the joys of fruition may be unspeak
able, and the Illusions of hope brilliant; but
when memory stretches her wand over departed
years, she evokes a train of spirits that impress upon
the soul lessons useful for time and eternity.
Time spent in her high communion is never wast
ed. It brings forth a harvest of beauty, love and
virtue that shall last forever,
Evbrv act is the father of another, perhaps of
thousands. Sin begets sin and virtue begets vir
tue. Birth is not an accident, nor indeed is any
other event of human life. The waves of influ
ence may Bpread from the slighest circumstance
until they spread far into the ocean of eternity.
CLIPPED ITEMS.
A tine may be remembered when a chapter U forgotten,
Lucy Stone’s Property Sold foe Taxes. The
celebrated Lucy Stone, who resides at Orange, New
Jersey, having refused to pay her tax bill, because she
is not allowed the right of suffrage, her property was
seized, and on Friday sold by a constable at public ven
due. The New York Post says :
“ The sale tcok place on the front piazza. The first
article offered was a marble table worth about sl2, which
was started at $6 and knocked down at $7 30. The
next articles were two steel-plate likenesses, one of
Gerritt Smith, and the other of Gov. Salmon P. Chase,
which were sold together, $3. From these sales, a suf
ficient sum was realized, and a small balance was paid
to Lucy. She told the constable that 1 next year, and
the year following, and every year, until the law was
changed, the same thing would have to be done.’ He
replied, that he would let someone else have the job, as
it was not a pleasant duty for him to perform. He then
carried back into the house, the articles of furniture that
had not been sold, and seemed glad to get away, after
vindicating the majesty of the law m so satisfac
tory a manner. The public of Orange, we learn, will
soon hear from Mrs. Lucy Stone, on this subject, at a
meeting she intends to call.”
Lowell Mills.—The number of mills in Lowell is
fifty-two, the capital stock of which is $13,900,000. The
average wages of females clear if board, per week, is
$2; of males per day, clear of l oard, 80 cents. The
increase in the population of L \vell for the last ten
years was 12,595.
Mobile now ships annually, 600,000 bales of cotton.
The merchant who made the first shipment of cotton
from that port, is now living and engaged in business.
The first vessel he loaded with cotton, he had to send to
Now Orleans to get 400 bales to fill up.
Sea Island Cotton Growing in Texas.—The Nett
ces Valley urges the people of that vicinity to plant Sea
Island cotton, which, it says, can be raised there of the
finest quality, as several trials have already proved.
It is reported that Capt. Cone and his command in
Florida, had been taken prisoners by the Indians, and
that a large force was preparing to go to the rescue.
The Salisbury mills have made a contract with the
War Department of the United States Government, for
ten thousand yards ol flanel, and six thousand yards
of cloth.
Capt. Nathaniel Webster, agent of the cotton duck
mills, at Groveland, Mass., has secured a contract for
the manufacture of sixty thousand yards of duck.
Weather in Florida.—A letter from Florida, dated
the Bth inst. says: “It has been very warm all winter;
peach trees are in full bloom, and all kinds of trees are
out like May. People are very busy gardening.”
Mortality of Atlanta, Ga.—The total number of
burials in Atlanta, during the year 1857, was 179; whites
132—blacks 47. So says the Sexton’s report.
Negro Thieves Escaped. —Six negro thieves broke
jail in Pensacola on the 18th. Their names are Chas.
Groover, Leonar Singletary, Miles Franklin, Micajah
Andrew, Rix Gaylor and W. Laird.
The three great apostles of practical atheism, that
make converts without persecuting, and retain them
without preaching, are wealth, health and power.
Tho advantage of living, does not consist in length
of days, but in the right improvement of them.
It is stated that two of the best retroportorial seats in
the new Hall of Representatives, are to be assigned to
the lady correspondents of the Charleston Courier, and
Boston Post, Miss Harriet Fanning Reade, and Miss
Windle.
In one of the courts, lately, there was a long and
learned discussion, as to whether a witness should be
allowed to answer the question, “ Whatdid Mary say?”
Three judges gave long and elaborate opinions in the
affirmative, and the question being repeated, the answer
was, “ Not a word.”
Help others and you relieve yourself. Go out and
drive away the cloud from a distressed friend’s brow,
and you will return with a lighter heart.
He who marries for beauty only, is like a buyer of
cheap furniture—the varnish that caught the eye, will
not endure the fireside blaze.
“ Industry must prosper.” as the man said, when
holding the baby for his wife to chop wood.
Hon. David S. Reid, U, S. Senator from North Caro
lina, has been seriously ill at Richmond.
The mind, like the soul, rises in value, according to
the nature and degree of its cultivation.
A wag says, of a certain congregation, that they pray
on their knees on Sundays, and on their neighbors the
rest of the week.
A certain cockney bluebeard, overcome by his sensi
bilities, fainted at the grave of bis fourth spouse. What
can we do with him ? asked a perplexed friend of his.—
I “Let him alone,” said a waggish bystander, “he’ll soon
I revive.”
OHOICE SELECTIONS.
description of Milton’s Readme*.
I set ourin th* morning, in company with a
inend to visit & place where Milton spent some
part of his life, and where, in all probability, he
composed several of his earliest productions'. It
is a small nUage, situated on a pleasant hill. *-
£ut three miles from Oxford, ahU called Forest
Hill, because it formerly lay contiguous to a forest,
which has since been cut down. The poet chose
this place of retirement after hia first marriage
and he describes the beauty of his retreat in that
fine passage of his L’Allegro .-
-Someiimes walking, not unseen.
By hedgerow elms, or hillock green.
* e e - * *
While the ploughman, near at hand.
Whistle* o’er the furrowed land,
And the milk-maid singing blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe ;
And every shephered tells his tale,
finder the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eyes hath caught new pleasures,
While the landscape round it measures ;
Russet lawns, and fallow’s gray,
Where the nibbling docks uo stray ;
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The laboring clouds do often rest ;
Meadows trim, with daises pied,
Shallow brooks and river# wide ;
Towers and battlements it sees,
Bosomed high in tufted trees.
* e * * * *
Hard by a cottage-chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,” etc.
It was neither the proper season of the year, nor
the time of day, to hear all the rural sounds and
see all the objects mentioned in this description;
but, by a pleasing concurrence of circumstances
we were saluted, on our approach to the village
with the music of the mower and his scythe ; we
sa w the ploughman intent upon his labor, and
the milk-maid returning from her country em
ployment. As we aseended the hill, the variety
of beautiful objects, the agreeable stillness and
natural simplicity of the w’hole scene, gave us
the highest pleasure. We at length reached the
spot whence Milton undoubtedly took most of his
images. It is on the top of a hill from which
there is a most extensive prospect on all sides ;
the distant mountains, that seemed to support
the clouds ; the villages and turrets, partly sha
ded by trees of the richest verdure, and partly
raised above the groves that surrounded them;
the dark plains and meadows of a grayish color,
where the sheep were feeding at large ; in short,
the view of the streams and rivers convinced us
that there was not a single useless or idle word
in the above mentioned description, but that it
was a most exact and lively representation of na
ture. Thus will this fine passage, which has al
ways been admired for its elegance, receive an
additional beauty for its exactness. After we had
walked, with a kind of poetical enthusiam, over
this enchanted ground,, we returned to the vil
lage.—Sir William Janes.
I I
John Anderson, my Jo.
This exquisite ballad, constructed by Robert
Burns out of a different and somewhat exception
able lyric, has always left something to be wished
for and regretted. But who would venture to add
to a song of Burns ? As Burns left, it runs thus :
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first sequent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent ;
But now your brow is bald John,
Your locks are like the snow ;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my Jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither ;
And mony a canty day, John,
We’ve had wi’ ane anither :
Now we maun totter down, John,
fiut hand in hand we’ll go,
And sleep thegither at the toot,
John Anderson my Jo.
Fine as this is, it does not quite satisfy a contem
plative mind : when one has gone so Jar, he looks
and longs for something more—something beyond
the foot of the hill. Many a reader of Burns must
have felt this ; and it is quite probable that many
have attempted to supply the deficiency; but we
know of Only one success in so hazardous an exper
iment. This is the added verse:—
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we have slept thegither
The sleep that a’ maun sleep, John.
I We’ll wake wi’ ane anither :
And in that better warld, John,
Nae sorrow shall we know ;
Nor fear we e’er shall part again,
John Anderson, my jo.
Simple, touching, true—nothing wanting, and
nothing to spare; precisely harmonizing with
the original stanzas, and improving them by the
fact of completing them. This poetical achieve
ment is attributed te Mr. Charles Gould, a gentle
man of our town, whose life has been chiefly devo
ted to the successful combination of figures —but
not figures of rhetoric. The verse was written
some years ago, but it has not hitherto found its
way into print; yet it well deserves to be incor
porated with the original song in an / future edi
tion of Burn’s Poems, and we hope some publish
er will act on this suggestion.— Home Journal.
Old Psalm-Tuna.
Blackwood says of old pslam-tunes: “There is
to us more of touching pathos, heart-thrilling ex
pression, in some of the old pslam-tunes, feelingly
displayed, than in a whole batch of modernism; the
strains go home—the ‘foundations of the great deep
are broken up;’ the great deep of unfathomable
feeling, that lies far, far below the surface of the
world-hardened heart; and as the unwonted, yet
unchecked tear starts in the eye, the softened
spirit yields to their influence, and shakes off the
load of earthly care, rising purified and spiritualized
into a cleaver atmosphere. Strange, inexplicable
associations brood over the mind, ‘like the far-off
dreams of paradise,’ mingling their chaste mel
ancholy with a musing of a still subdued, though
more cheerful character. How many glad hearts,
in the olden time, have rejoiced in these songs of
praise—how many sorrowful ones sighed out their
complaints in those plaintive notes that now, cold
in death, are laid to rest around that sacred
church, within whose walls they had so often
swelled with emotion 1”
Encouraging to Young Men. —Never content
yourself with the idea of having a common place
wife. You want one who will stimulate you, stir
you up, keep you moving, joke you on your weak,
points, and make something of you. Don't be
afraid you cannot get such a wife. I very well
remember the reply which a gentleman who hap
pened to combine the qualities of wit and com
mon sense, made to a young man who expressed
a fear that a certain young lady of great bequty
and attainments would dismiss him, if he should
become serious. “My friend,” said the wit, “in
finitely more beautiful and accomplished women
than she is, have married infinitely uglier and
meanner men than you are."— [Timothy Titcomb .]
A Beautiful Faith. —“Beautiful,exceedingly,”
is the burial of children among the Mexicans,
No dark procession or gloomy looks mark the pas
sage to the grave; but dressed in its holiday attire,
and garlanded with bright, fresh flowers, the
little sleeper is borne to its rest. Glad songs and
joyful bells are rung, and lightly as to a festi
val, the gay group goes its way. The child is not
dead, they say, but “going home.” The Mexi
can mother, who has household treasures laid
away in the campo santo —God's sacred field—
breathes a sweet niith, only heard elsewhere in
the poets utterance. Ask her how many children
bless her house, and she will answer: —“Five;
two here, and three yonder.” So, despite death
and the grave, it is yet an unbroken household,
and the simple mother ever lives in the thought.
The following genuine incident is of some
interest. It is said that Theodore A. D’Aubigna,
in 1623, married the widow of Caesar Balbmi.
He was seventy-one. She was sixteen years
younger. Tho marriage was performed during
the course of usual service on Sunday. The min
ister preachced from the text, “ Father forgive
them, for they kow not what they do. Ibis irri
tated D’Aubigna beyond measure, and he com
plained to the Senate of Geneva, who forced the
minister to apologize. In doing so, he protested
that lie had no intention of offending, and. that
the words complained of belonged to a portion of
Scriptures which he had been occupied on succes
sive Sundays in expounding.
The time to eat. —An eminent English surgeon,
Sir Charles Landram asserts that the only time at
which hearty meals should be eaten is just previ
ous to retiring for the night.— Exchange Paper.
A friend of oufs acted on the above suggestion
a few nights ago. He told us h© fancied ho was
changed into the fabled Prometheus—that he
dreamed he had swallowed “four and twenty
Steam Doctors all in a row” and that they were
tugging at his liver the whole night with their
long and fiery—bills. He says he does not recol
lect whether or not they received pay for their la
bors and bills.— Columbus Enquirer.
MILADIES’ OLIO.”*
j
Waatsd, a wtb!
“Ralph Bedbloasom,” a racy correspondent of
“Life Illustrated,” thus makes known his want
of a wife. Are there any readers of our Olio who
can give him any information as to where he
may obtain this desideratum ? we fear that tlio
number of those wliq can furnish testimonials
which will secure his hand, is growing ‘small by
degrees and beautifully less :
I wish somebody would make me a New-Year's j
present of.* good wife ! Here lam, nearly thirty j
years old, and an old bachelor yet. I’m sure it’s t
not ww fault. I can't at all relish coming home ;
at night to a lonely room, and yawning all the
b< ? k ’ without a soul to
speak to. I don t fancy darning my own stock
mgjaand sewing on my own shirt-buttons. Board
inghouse hfe isn’t the greatest luxury in the world,
especially when the invalid chairs and broken ta
bles m the establishment are pensioned off in
your room; and the Biddy uses your hair-brush,
and anoints herself with your millefkurs!
I'd like a rosy little wife, and a cheerful home,
as well as anybody. I'd like to think, at my dai
ly labors down-town, of a pair of bright eyes,
looking up and down the street to see if Cm penn
ing, of kettle singing at the fire, and a pain of slip
pers put down to warm by hands that exactly
correspond with the bright eyes !
But I don't know where the good have all
gone! I have read of them, and heard about
them, and I know they once existed, but the
race is now extinct. I’ve examined all the young
ladiqp of my acquaintance, and not one of’ them
realizes my idea of what a wife should be. 1
want a gentle, loving companion, to sit at my
fireside, cheer my existence, console my sorrows,
and share my joys—an economical, domestic qui
et helpmate, to make a home for me. Ah, if I
could only findsueh a person !
I don’t want a wife who goes rustling about in
satins and silks—who plays piano
and don’t know how to make a shirt—who can
embroider on velvet and paint in water-colors, and
has’nt the least idea of the jngredients necessary
to form an apple-pie 1
I don't want a wife who dances the Laricers with
a hole in the toe of her silk stocking. I don't want
a wife who is too “nervous” to Bee to the affairs
of her household, but who is perfectly capable of
fashionable dissipations—who goes into strong
hysterics because I don’t engage a box at the op
era, and shops on Broadway, wasting all my in
come in “great bargains!” and I don’t want a
wife whe reads novels and works in worsted, with
a poodle in her lap, while the meat is burning
down-stairs in the kitchen, and the pudding is
baked to a cinder!
There’s the catalogue of what I don’t want, and
now I will enumerate the things I do want.
I want a neat, stirring little wife, whose nicely
fitting dress is made by her own hands—who can
make a loaf of bread, roast a turkey, or cook a
beefsteak—who regards a hole in her husband’s
coat as a reflection on her own housewifely char
acter, and who can talk about literary news, and
even politics, as well a< about new dresses and
new fashions—who is a lady in the kitchen as well
as in the parlor, and who looks upon a husband
as something nearer and dearer than a mere ma
chine to pay her bills, and hold her fan and hand
kerchief at parties 1
Now, Mr. Editor, do you know of any such wo
man as this ? My female acquaintances are all
pretty wax-doll creatures, with white, richly-ringed
hands and pale faces, who don’t know exactly
where the kitchen is, and would faint away if
you mentioned a wash-tub or a frying-jmn in their
presence ! They are very passable drawing-room
ornaments, but as to ever becoming thrifty, credi
table wives, one might as well marry the revolv
ing ladies in the windows on Broadway !
Won’t somebody give me a bit of advice ? Am
I to die an old bachelor, or am I to marry a huge
crinoline, an infinitesimal bonnet, and a pair of
yellow kid gloves, with a woman inside of’em ?
Ralph Redblossom.
Right appropriately after this come Mrs. El
lis’ remarks to the future wives of England, which
are still more applicable to the rising generation
of American females. Read it, young ladies, and
ponder it, as sound advice by one of the wisest of
your sex:
My pretty little dears, you are no more fit for
matrimony than a pullet is to look after a family
of fourteen chickens. The truth is, my dear girls,
you want, generally speaking, more liberty and
less fashionable restraint; more kitchen and less
parlor; more leg exercise and less sofa ; more
making puddings and less piano ; more frankness
and less mock modesty ; more breakfast and less
bustle. I like the buxom, bright-eyed, rosy
cheeked, full-breasted, bouncing lass, who can
darn stockings, make her own frocks, mend
trousers, command a regiment of pots, and shoot
a wild duck as well as a Duchess of Marlbro’ or
the Queen of Spain, and be a lady withal in the
drawing-room. But as for your pining, moping
screwea-up, wasp-waisted, putty-faced, music
murdering, novel-devouring daughters of fashion
and idleness, with your consumption-soled silk
stockings, and calico shifts, you won’t do for the
luture wives and mothers of England.— Mrs. Ellis’
Lectures.
A Mother’s Love. —What sweat poetry is con
tained in those three little words. Is there a
sentence to be found in any language that is more
replete with sentiment, beauty, grace, or finish ?
A mother’s love I How noble! How self-sacrifi
cing ! How unceasing are her efforts in guiding
aright the footsteps of her children ! What priva
tions will she not endure ; what perils will she
not encounter for the sake of her “loved ones !”
From our earliest infancy ’tis our mother who
watches over us With untiring devotion ; who
notes every change in our looks, both in sickness
and health, and, with loving arms twined arouud
us, bids us nestle close, close up to the breast.
And oh ! with what perfect confidence we nestle
there ! Fearing nothing, caring nothing, only to
be folded more closely and feel the warm pres
sure of her lips upon our cheeks. How our hearts
bouhd beneath the lovely glances of her soul-lit
eyes, as she bends them upon us beaming with a
light so pure and holy ! With what delight does
she listen to our childish prattle, and observe
each winning grace ! How fondly she gazes upon
us, and what a glorious future she paints for us!
Then, as the thought comes that, as we ad
vance in yearn, she may be taken from us, and we
be left to the cold charities of this world, her
heartfelt prayer ascends to the Throne of Grace,
beseeching Him to guido and direct our steps, so
that we may be prepared to meet her in a bright
er and better world. Sorrows may come upon
us, friends may forsake us, and the world pre
sent not one cheering ray, yet will our mother
cling to us with a love so abiding that her cheering
tones and loving words make us forget the
world’s rude and bitter jests. Never, on this
earth, can we find a friend so steadfast, and one
in whom we can repose such perfect confidence
as our mother. How holy is a mother’s love I
The fate of a Flirt. —lt is very rarely that a
confirmed flirt gets married. Ninety-nine out of
every hundred old maids may attribute their an
cientioneliness to juvenile levity. It is certain
that few men make a selection from ball-rooms or
any other place of gaiety ; and as few arc influen
ced by showing offin the streets, or any other al
lurements of dress. Ninety-nine hundredths of
the finery with which women decorate and load
their persons go for nothing as for as husband
catching is concerned. Where and haw, then,
do men find their wives ? In the quiet homes of
their parents or guardians—at the fireside where
the domestic graces and feelings are alone demon
strated. These are the charms which most sure
ly attract the nigh as well as the humble.
The ignorance of young ladies brought up to
thump pianos, read love-sick novels and entertain
young gentlemen with moustaches, is astonishing.
The other day one of this class threw the milk in
tended for tea out of the window because it had
a yellow scum on the top.
A woman is neither worth a great deal or
nothing. If good for nothing, she is not worth
getting jealous for ; if she be a true woman she
will give no cause for jealousy. A man is a brute
to be jealous of a good woman—a fool to be jeal
ous of a worthless one—but is a double fool to cut
his throat for either of them.
Fanny Jones says that when she was in love
she felt as if she was in a tunnel, with a train of cars
coming both ways. Jaimicks says that when he
was in love he felt as if he were being hung—and
had a cat in his bat and a peck of -bumble bees
under his waistcoat. Jaimicks knows the symp
toms. Juliano says that she felt—oh my—as if
she were a bower of moonbeams sinking into a
bath of effulgent honey beneath a blaze of balmy
i stars to the tones of slow music.
FARMER’S COLUMN.
■ < > i--H —V- . .
COMMERCIAL.
. F*b..
Cotton. —Sales yesterday afternoon, 126 bales: 5 at# ;
60 at 9jj; 3atWt 4at IQ4; and 7 fancy at IQic.
Soles this morning 546 bales : 7at 8*; 20 at 9; Bat
f# 28-100 ; 30 at 9s; 73 at 9f ;66 at 9f ; Bat 9f ; 63 at
10; 37 at 101; 98 at 10*; 61 at lOg cts.
The demand is good and prices very dull, with an ad
vancing tendency. We quote 7to B*c for inferior to or
dinarv ; middlings 9* to 10*c ; middling fair l©ft~
. J Savannah, F*fe. 1.
CoUov.— We have to report a brisk enquiry, and pri
ces Jc. better. The sales foot 1,060 bales ft the follow
ing particulars : 15 at 8; 7 at. 84 ; 13 at 8*; 48 at 8f; 49
at n ; 28 at 9* ; 24 at 9 9 15; 28 at 9s; 143 at 10{ 148
at 10 4; 113 at lOf ; 223 at 10$ ; 154 at 10*; Sat 10f;
and 68 bales at 102.
; ‘ Augusta Price* Current.
WHOLESALE PBICES. -.’ } j
BACON.—Hams, ft 13 $ 14
Canvassed Hams, ®ft 16 to 17
Shoulders, p ft
Western Sides, ft 11 to 124
Clear Side 9, Ten it., ft 00 to 00
Ribbed Sides, alb 11 @ 12
Jiog Round, new, $4 ft 12 to 00
FLOUR.—Country bbl 525 to 600
lennessee J) bbl 562 to 560
City Mills fi bbl 575 to 750
f‘ owah .. bbl 600 750
Denmead s $ bbl 600 to 75
ORATNr r 1 bbl 700 to 750
U “^lN.— Corn in sack bush 55 to 60
Vheat, white $4 bush 1 05 to 1 19
Si? ft 95 to 105
fi bush 45 to SO
p ye ¥ bush 70 to 76
L eas M bush 75 to 85
THOM 4 $ bush 65 to 75
IRON.—Swedes ft 54 to 94
English, Common. M ft 34 to
“ Refined, 3ft ft 35 to
lard- ia, fin
MOLASSES:—Cuba % ga | 25 28
St. Croix gal 40
Sugar House Syrup $ gal 42 to 45
Chinese Syrup f* ga J 40 S 50
SUGARS.-N. Orleans {ft _g _
Porto Rico aft 8 to ft
Muscovado jft ft g a
Refined C sft 11 <$ 114
Refined B 13 ft 11 to 18
Refined A %> lb Hi & lit
Powdered lb 12 to ‘ 13
a % Bhed $ I* ® 13
r>ALl.— sac k jgo to 1 lo
COFFEE.—Rio ib 114 to 124
Laguira §ft JJ* J g
Jav ft 16 % 18
To Make Excellent Vinegar.—ln a wellglazed
vessel mix one-lialf gallon of luke warm water
with half pint of New Orleans or West India mo
lasses. Set in a store room in cool weather, If
the mixture is not disturbed in six weeks it will
form an excellent vinegar. After standing a few
weeks it will also from a mother, with the use of
which any quantity of vinegar can be made in
three weeks, by adding the mother to a mixture
of warm water and molasses (in the same propor
tion as above) and allowing it to stand undistur
bed tor three weeks. Simple as this process
seems, we are assured that it is entirely efficaci
ous, and it. is certainly bettter to try the experi
ment than to drink the mixture of vitriol and
water sold for vinegar in the cities.
The Value of Indian Corn.
For the following interesting information in
regard to this little understood kind of food, we
are indebted to Hunt's Magazine :
“By those who do not know, or are too scientific
to proflit by the experience of nations of men and
and herds of fat cattle, Indian corn, rice, buck
wheat, &c., are only considered ‘good fodder/
Liebig states that if we were to go naked as the
Indian, or if we were subject to the same degree
of cold as the Samides, we should be able to con
sume the half of a calf and a dozen candles a sin
gle meal. During excessive fatigue in low tem
perature, wheat flour fails to sustain the system,
This is owing to a deficiency in the elements nec
essary to supply animal heat, and the strong de
sire for oleaginous substances, under these cir
cumstances, has led to the belief that animal food
is necesrary for human suppoi't. But late scien
tific experiments and a better acquaintance with
the habits of the North American Indians, have
shown that a vegetable oil answers the same pur
pose as animal food ; that one pound of parched
Indian corn, or an equal quantity of corn meal
made into bread, is more than equivalent to two
pounds of fat meat.
“Meal from Indian corn contains more than
four times as much oleaginous matter as wheae
flour, more starch, and consequently capable of
producing more sugar, and though less gluten, In
other important compounds it contains nearly as
much nitrogenous material. The combination
of alimentary compounds in Indian com, renders
it the only mixed diet capable of sustaining man
under the most extraordinary circumstances. In
it, there is a natural coalescence of elementary
principles which constitute the basis of organic
life, that exists in no other vegetable production.
In ultimate composition, in nutritious properties,
in digestibility, and in its adaptation to the varied
necessities of animal life to the climatesftof the
earth, corn meal is capable of supplying more of
the absolute wants of the adult human system
than other single substance in nature.”
Cheap Hot Beds—German Plan.
j “Take white cotton cloth of a close texture,
j stretch and nail it on frames of any size you wish j
take two ounces of lime water, four ounces of lin
seed oil, one of white of eggs, mix the lime and
oil with very gentle heat, beat the eggs separate
ly, and mix them with the former ; spread this
mixture with a paint-brush over the cotton, al
lowing each coat to dry before applying another,
until they become water proof. The following
are advantages this shade possesses over glass
ones : 1 The cost being hardly one fourth. 2. Re
pairs are easily and cheaply made. 3. The light.
They do not require watering, no matter how in
tense the heat of the sun, the plants are never
struck down or burnt, or checked in growth, nei
ther grow up long, sick, and weakly as they do
under glass, and still there is abundance of light .
4. The heat rising entirely from below, is more
equable and temperate, which is a great object.-
The vapor rising from the manure and earth is
condensed by the cool air passing over the sur
face of the shade, and stands in drops upon the
inside; and therefore the plants do not require as
frequent watei'ing. If the frames or stretchers
are made large, they should be intersected by
cross bars about a foot square, to support the cloth.
These articles are just the thing for bringing for
ward melons, tomatoes, flower seeds, &c., in sea
son for transplanting.”
The Sugar Crop of Louisiana.— lt is stated in
the New Orleans Crescent that the sugar crop of
Louisiana for 1857 will be from 225,000 to 250,000
hhds., against about 75,000 hhds. in 1855. Prioee
are of course much lower than last year; but
nevertheless, planters will realize about *2,000,000
more from the crop of this season than from that
of 1856, while consumers will also gain largely.
Lard and Resin for Tools.
“A penny saved is two pence earned.”
Not less than SSO,(XX) worth of valuable tools
belonging to the readers of the American Agricul
turist, (less than $2 each) will be spoiled or ma
terially injured, simply by rusting between now
and next spring. The damage alone will be $60,-
000. Look at the plows, harrows, cultivators,
hoes, shovels, forks, chains, axes, saws, not to e
numerate wagon irons, and a multitude of little
tools that ought to be provided on or about any
form, and then reckon up how many of them will
b<| left where the combined effect of air and mois
ture will attack their surfaces and eat away e
nough to render them rough at least, if not to
materially depreciate their value. Many instru
ments are destroyed faster by lying idle than they
would be by constant wear. We will not now
write a homily upon the value and importance of
a tool house, and of having every implement
stored in it, but give a recipe for an exceedingly
simple, cheap and effective preparation, one avai
able to all, which will at least save all metals
from loss by rust.
Take about three pounds of lard and ono
pound of resin. Melt them together in a basin
or kettle, and rub over all iron or steel surfaces
in danger of being rusted. It cqn be put on with
a brush or piece of cloth, and wherever it is ap
plied it most effectually keeps air and moisture
away, and of course prevents rust. When knives
and forks, or other household articles liable to
become rusted or spotted are to be laid away, rub
them over with this mixture, and they will como
out bright and clean, even years afterwards. The
coating may be so thin as not to be perceived, and
it still will be effectual. Let every one keep a
dish of this preparation on hand. As it does
not spoil of itself, it maybe kept ready mixed for
months or years. Mem. Fresh lard, containing
no salt, should be used. Resin is a cheap article
and can be obtained almost anywhere for four to
six cents per pound.— American Agriculturist.