Newspaper Page Text
LITERARY
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PBKFIELD, GEORGIA.
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LINCOLN TEAZEY Edito*.
THURSDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 25, 1858.
The Westminister Review has been received from
the Re- publishing House of L. Soott St Cos. New
York. The papers on life in Africa, Shelley and
India, are very interesting. Several others pos
sess attractive headings. Price, $3.00; Black
wood and 4 Reviews, SIO.OO.
0 I
“ RupertV has lively fancy, and uses very good
language. There is, however, an obscurity in his
style, arising from an imperfect expression of his
ideas, that would render it undue to him to pub
lish his sketch. We think him capable of be
coming a good writer, and will be pleased to hear
from him again.
We are under obligations to the Southern Bap
tist Publishing House, Charleston, S. C. for a copy
of “ Grace Magnified” by Rev. H. E. Taliaferro, of
Tuskegee, Ala. junior Editor of the South-Wes
tern Baptist. Its careful perusal will prove in
teresting and profitable; and most especially
should it be read by every Clergyman. Price, in
muslin, cents; paper, cents.
Godey’s Ladys’ Book for March is gotten up in
,its usual superior style. The “Mother’s Bless
ing,” which adorns it, is one of the most chaste
and beautiful engravings we have ever seen. It,
of itself, is worth more than the cost of the num
ber.
“ The best capital for a young man is a capital
voung wife. So a gentleman informs us, who has
been married over twenty years.”
We suppose he means a wife who has capital*
These are the only kinds of capital wives who
gain popularity in these mercenary days.
Our remarks in reference to the mail carrier in
our last issue were designed for the driver only,
and not intended to reflect on the contractors.
With them, we have no matter of complaint, save
-their employment of an agent who has neither
accommodation or politeness.
A friend writing to us requests our views on
State and Church education. Should we give
them, we might tread on the toes of many who
are weekly putting forth through the press their
Utopian schemes for the education of the masses.
We, however, promise to give him an expres
sion of opinion on this subject whenever we can
find time to give it the attention which its impor
tance demands.
The New York 3ay-Book says that the newspa
pers throughout the country devote from six
to ten columns to the marriage of a boy and girl
in England, while four lines suffice for the nup
tials of Millard Fillmore, ex-President of the Un
ited States. The hit is a good one. The toady
ism displayed by the American Press about these
Royal ceremonies has become really disgusting—
a disgrace to the country and a libel upon her
republican sentiments. Who cares whether the
Princess rOyai wore a robe of moire antique and
a Honiton lace veil or a plain calico dress without
hoops or flounces ? We have no doubt that our
Martha Jane or Maria Matilda, who was married
last week or last month to some sturdy farmer
the slightest noise, is worth more in eve
ry trait of womanly nobility than all the butter
flies of courtly fashion who could Btand between
here and St. James’ Palace.
► “If* any persons, especially such as live in coun
llL try neighborhoods, find the small amount of
reading matter at their command a source of dis
comfort. They have no access to public libraries,
and their means will not enable them to purchase
one of their own. There is a very easy method
by which these may, in a few years, collect a
large amount of choice reading at a cost almost
imperceptible. Let them take a good family
newspaper and clip out and paste in a scrap-book
every article that they think will be worthy of a
second perusal. Almost every number of even
the commonest paper will contain several such
articles; and by pursueing this practice, you will
in a few years have a large volume of select mis
cellanies. Try it.
Hard times and retrenchment of expenses is
now all the cry. This notion of retrench
ment is a good one, but too many go about it-in
a wrong way. Instead of curtailing some unnec
essary extravagance, many a man looks over his
long list of accounts, and, as the result of his cal
< culations, says “ I must stop my paper.” This is
commencing economy at the wrong end of the
row. Try first if you cannot lop off some other
expense that is more unnecessary. Is your table
not supplied with more luxuries than the well be
ing of yourself and family absolutely requires?
Would not a less costly wardrobe do you equally
as well for all purposes of comfort ? In a word,
are there not hundreds of places where you could
lessen your outlays without depriving yourself or
family of all intellectual food ? Finish yonr din
ners without some costly dessert every day, take
a bow from your wife’s or daughter’s bonnet, or
a flounce from her skirt, or subject yourself to a
multitude of such trifling inconveniences, rather
than stop your paper.
A writer in Blackwood thus speaks of this most
common, and in its last stages, most terrible
of our attributes:
is one of the beneficent and terrible
k instincts. It is, indeed, the very fire of life, un
derlying all impulses to labour, and moving man
to noble activities by its imperious demands.
Look where we may, we see it as the motive pow
der which sets the array of human machinery in
; action. It is Hunger which brings these stalwart
navvies together in orderly gangs to cut paths
through mountains, to throw bridges across riyers
tto intersect the land with the great iron-ways
.which bring city into daily communication with
<eity. Hunger is the overseer of those men erect
ing palaces, prison-houses, barracks, and villas.
Hunger sits at the loom, which with stealthy pow
<er is weaving the wondrous fabrics of cotton and
lk. Hunger labours at the furnace and the
plough, coercing the native indolence of man
into strenuous and incessant activity. Let food
be abundant and easy of access, and civilization
becomes impossible; for our higher efforts are de
pendent on our lower impulses in an indissolu
ble manner. Nothing but the necessities of food
will force man to labour which he hates, and will
always avoid when possible. And although this
seems obvious only when applied to the labouring
classes, it is equally though less obviously true
when applied to all other classes, for the money
we all labour to gain is uothing but food, and the
surplus of food, which will buy other men’s la
bour.
Jk’ If in this sense Hunger is seen to be a benefi
cent instinct, in another sense it is terrible, for
when its progress is unchecked it becomes a de
vouring flame, destroying all that is noble in man,
-"'subjugating his humanity, and making the brute
dominant in him, till finally life itself is extin
guished. Beside the picture of activities it in
’ spires, we might also place a picture of the feroc
ities it evokes. Many an appalling story might be
cited, from that of Ugolina in the famine-tower,
to those of wretched shipwrecked men and wo
men who hare been impelled by tue madness of
starvation to murder their companions that they
inight feed upon their flesh.
H* who depends solely on external sources of
enjoyment, must unavoidably experience
many hours of misery. This is a truth
thousands practically disregard. They plunge
into scenes of excitement—it may be dissipation
under the fond hope of there obtaining happiness.
They do indeed there realize a certain form of
pleasure; but when the momentary exhiliration
which gave it birth has passed away, low spirits
and ennui are sure to follow. The most miserable
men are those who live upon excitement, when
all excitement is removed. Their habits have
not induced apathy; yet, all their feelings, when
alone, seem to undergo a deadening stagnation,
to which a real sorrow would be a relief.
A mind well stored is the most unfailing source
of happiness under all the circumstances of life.
Mere knowledge, however, cannot produce hap
piness unless the affections and emotions of the
heart be properly trained. It is the office of
these to draw forth supplies from the mind and
administer to the spirit’s comfort. By these,
each faculty of the intellect is made to lend its
consoling and sustaining influence. Memory
steals over the soul, soft and warm as the parting
glow of a summer sun, spreading throughout a
serene delight. Reason scrutinizes known facts,
traces out their hidden relations, and lays open
new truths that often break upon the mind like
startling revelations. Imagination presents the
scenes and characters of the past and future,
weaving them into thousands of brilliant shapes.
With all these resources laid under contribution
for his entertainment, how can a man be lonely ?
Truly he must be lost to reason and to manly
thought, who thinks it solitude to be alone.
In affliction a person needs some sustaining in
fluence within him to prevent his sinking under
its weight. Naturally strong powers of mind are
not always sufficient. They may do much. The
wild Indian of the American forests could eHdure
defeat, captivity and all the horrid tortures their
enemies could inflict without a murmuring groan,
a quiver of the lip or the moistening of the eye.
This was to a great extent the result of education.
They were taught from earliest infancy to regard
bravery as the noblest of all virtues, and a patient
endurance of suffering the highest type of bra
very. It was training like this that caused the
gallant Porus to stand unmoved before his con
quering foe and to excite his wonder by a display
of a magnanimity that has never been surpassed.
It is painful to behold the struggles of a man
naturally great of heart under the scourge of af
fliction, when no inward supply of strength has
1 been collected to resists its attacks. Too often
they disgrace themselves by the exhibition of an
abject cowardice. It was*thus with the ill-starred
Monmouth. He had been the object of his fath
er's doting love, and the flatteringly caressed idol
of the common people. Thus walking in the
sunlight of prosperity, he displayed all the win
ning graces of a soldier. But when his parent
was no more; when the sycophants that flattered
had fled from his side and left him a condemned
criminal in a dungeon cell, his spirit sunk within
him and he plead for his life with a craven hu
mility that would have disgraced the lowest sol
dier in his camp. It has often been remarked as
a matter for wonder, that some of the noblest
works of genius have been produced under cir
cumstances in which ordinary minds would have
sunk in despondency. Homer, the most illustri
ous of earth-born poets, if tradition be true, was
blind. It is well known the master poet of our
language composed the work on which his fame
is rested, after an eternal night had closed upon
his eyelids. Yoltaine wrote his Henraide while
immured in the Bastile, and Bunyan indulged
his sublime dream in the gloomy damps of a pris
on. Hood, while gasping for breath, wrote strains
that will to the end of time stir the inmost feel
ings of the heart, and, like the dying swan, his
last was the sweetest lay of all.
The eager pursuers of excitement may spend
the morning of their, lives in happiness; but
this cannot last. The noonday and the evening
will come when they can no longer take pleasure
in these things. Far better is it to employ these
sunny hours in laying up in the intellectual store
house treasures that render middle life and old
age cheerful and happy.
U A young Irish-girl who was rendering testi
mony against an individual in a Court of
Law, said: ‘lam sure he never made his mother
smile.’ There is a biography of unkindness in
that sentence.”
A black character it must be, indeed, in whose
biography these lines could be truthfully written.
The foulest offence that has ever shocked human
ears could not add a darker stain. We can im
agine no crime in the whole catalogue of earthly
wickedness that betrays a heart more dead to all
that is noble and good than unkindness to a
mother. It announces the withering of that first
sweet flower of affection that springs up fresh and
pure in the infant’s breast ere its lips can syllable
a parent’s name. Nero, in lii6 tyrannous rage,
turned his whole empire into one vast field of
suffering, set Rome on fire and sang above its
roaring flames; yet, no deed of the demented
wretch excites our indignation so much as his
shocking barbarity to his mother.
The relation existing between a mother and
her offspring is the most holy and mysterious
that can be known. Her office cannot be too
highly magnified. When true to God and those
whom he has given her, a mother is the highest
style of woman. She loves with a love that
knows no ebb, no decrease, in its all-absorbing
intensity. She is the first, best and last friend.
When others forsake or look on with bitter
frowns, she still clings with unabated affection to
those whom her breast hath fed. Upon her lips
hang sweet words of love or soft accents of
warning, but anger or reproof never fall from her
tongue. In Bickness her patience never flags;
in sorrow she always has some soothing charm to,
still the ragings of the troubled breast; in the
dark vale of crime and shame her form still hov
ers near to cheer its gloom.
This is the description of a good mother, and
good every mother must be. Whatever may be
her conduct in the other relations of life, as a
mother, she is always kind, true and faithful,
though not always prudent. Often her fondness
gets the better of her judgment, and she yields in
weakness where she should stand firm. But this
is a failing that leans to virtue’s side. Let no lost
wretch try to cast a reflection on the memory of
his mother because she did not with strong arm
compel him when his feet first sought to go as
tray. She gently chid his erring, wept over his
follies and poured forth for him many an agonised
prayer, which the ear of Heaven alone has heard.
Through all these influences he took his down
ward course to ruin; and must she be blamed?
The holy influence of a pious mother ends not
when “the vital spark of Heavenly flame” ceases
to burn, and her soul has found its rest in “the
bosom of her father and her God.” It still lin
gers a guardian spirit, viewless, perhaps, to mor
tal ken, yet, powerful in its restraining and con
trolling energy. Unsanctified ambition vainly
seeks admittance into the heart whose portals are
guarded by this faithful sentinel. Passion’s wild
host brook its control, and, lulled by its magic
potency, repose in quiet calmness. It is ever
present, unobtrusively attending the spirit in all
its moods and variations, steadily pointing it on
ward, and softly whispering
“ A voice that speaks of her and Heaven,
And bids it meet her there.”
I wonder what ascetical lips, even of old maids,
confirmed croakers and disappointed office
seekers, would not expand into a genial smile at
the quaint sayings of children ? They are infin
itely more mirth-provoking than the ebullitions
of grown up wit.
“What are you doing Johnny?” asked my fa
ther, yesterday, of the little, bright-eyed pet of
our household, who, with a sharpened stick and
very flushed cheeks, was digging up the earth in
a corner of the yard.
“ I’m digging up the chicken Sis planted, to see
if it’s growing,” was the comical reply,ns he raised
his large, serious looking eyes to my father’s face.
It turned out, on inquiry,- that he was desecra
ting the “burial ground” where his “Sis” had
been in the habit of interring her pets. Papa
had been practically demonstrating to him the
mysteries of seed-sowing and germinating, and
his two years’ experience had not taught him the
difference between planting and burying.
Children often ape their elders most ludicrous
ly, and afford laughable caricatures of their
grown-up brothers and sisters. I have a blue
eyed cousin of ten or twelve summers—a perfect
trump on the play-gronnd, or at rabbit hunting,
but as mute as a mouse, and a martyr to mauvaise
houte in the presence of curls and pantalettes.—
Last summer his sister persuaded him to accom
pany a play-mate of hers—a little, miniature lady,
from a birthday party. He offered his arm, keep
ing at a respectable distance from her flounces,
and did not open his lips until they stopped on
reaching her home, when remembering that his
elder brother would tease him unmercifully about
his bashfulness, he ventured to ask, in a choking
voice, after her sick baby-brother.
“ Thanks be to the good One above, he is quite
compilescent,” replied the little lady, with an over
sowing curt’sey.
Jimmy did not attempt another remark.
Some time ago, at a protracted meeting in our
village, the spirit of gallantry became quite an
epidemic, and prevailed among the juveniles to
such an extent, that no young lady over ten years
would attend church without an escort. Among
the rest, an embryo exquisite, in his first boots,
caught the infection. Having obtained a gra
cious answer to his request, that “Miss Emma
would allow him the pleasure of accompanying
her home,” and being afraid to return alone, he
was seen to take aside a negro boy near his own
size and give him these minute directions:
“ Dave,” said he, “ I’m going from church with
Miss Emma to-night, and I want you to walk be
hind us—not too close mind, so you’ll be there to
come bach home with me.”
Jessie Brown.
The following beautiful tribute to the heroine
of Lucknow is from the pen of Virginia F. Town
send, the gifted Editress of Arthur's Home Mag
azine :
Every woman has, or ought to have taken a pe
culiar interest in the East India war, that fearful
tragedy of the Summer of eighteen hundred and
fifty-seven, for woman has here borne a part, and
occupied a position not often occupied among the
nations of the earth; aye, and the great rallying
cry of this battle has been the name and the hon
or of woman !
When the tidings of an insurrection among the
Sepoys of India first reached us last summer, no
body felt any especial interest or sympathy with
either party ; nay, it might have been that what
existed of these was partially with the insurgents;
for this revolt was felt by many to be the rising
up of the oppressed against the oppressors, the
long delayed retaliation of a people who had
borne what the weak usually have to bear from
the strong, and whom long years of unjust taxa
tion and petty tyrannies had at last goaded to re
bellion.
But a little later there rose a cry from that far
off land, seated in its wondrous tropical beauty
on the blue waters of the Indian ocean ; a cry
that smote the heart of Christendom as the heart
of a single man.
No wonder there was swift arming in noble’s
hall and by peasant’s hearthstone, for the moans
of murdered women and the cries of slaughtered
children, came piteously across the Summer wa
ters, and roused all the old Teutonic chivalry in
the heart of the nation, and throughout the land
strong men with blanched faces lifted their hands
and swore to avenge the wrongs of woman, in the
name of the God of battles!
Oh, it is this reverence for woman that shines a
bright and steady light over all the dai-kness and
barbarism of the early Teutonic race; it is this
that, next to the Bible, has placed the Saxon na
tion so far above all the nations of the earth, the
brightest star of all her stars of strength and glo
ry-
But through all the sickening-and revolting de
tails of this war the newspapers have given us
pictures of scenes, which for tragical power and
living pathos, surpass the history of any war the
earth has ever witnessed. What painter ever con
ceived of a scene like the one where that band of
soldiers clustered around the body of the murdered
ed girl, and each reverently receiving one of the
tresses that had crowned her young head in life
and innocence, bent with haggard brows and fiery
eyes over their fearful task of counting the hairs
therein, before they all lifted their hands and
swore that for every one of these another life
should make recompense
Oh, English maiden girl! terrible as was thy
fate in the fair land of thy father’s adoption, sure
ly thou wast avenged, and it may be from the
grave made by thy foul murderers, thy voice,
could it speak, would come back softly to us,
“ In the midst of wrath, remember mercy !”
Who, too, has not read the letter of that lady
of Lucknow. We pity the man or the woman
who could doit with dry eyes and steady voice.
How simple she tells her story, that, for trag
ical interest and heroic patience, has never, in
all the annals of ancient or modern history, been
surpassed.* Here, in the heart of this practical
nineteenth century, was enacted a drama, whose
scenes of terror, despair, and final deliverence, ex
ceeded all that it ever entered into the heart of
genius to conceive of. The days of the Cae
sars, the wars of the’ Crusades, never furnished a
tragedy like this. Just think of it! These help
less women had been imprisoned for months, m
the Residency at Lucknow, with only that little
band of brave men to stand between them and
a death so terrible that imagination turns away
sickened and appalled at the thought; but
one can well conceive how that “ unutterable hor
ror,” at Cawnpore, only a few miles distant, haun
ted them by night and by day, seemingly a
frightful prophecy of the fate that awaited them.
Their foes, “fifty thousand against a few hundred,”
were pressing closer and closer—?oes who carried
beneath the faces of jmen hearts before which it
seemed fiends must shrink abashed. ‘
Yet how calmly writes that brave lady from
Lucknow ! “We were fully persuaded that in
twenty-four hours all would be over. The engi
neers had said so, and all knew the worst. We
women strove to encourage each other, and to
perform the light duties which had been assigned
to us, such as conveying orders to the batte
ries, and supplying the men with provisions,
we performed day and night.”
She had gone out to render some offices of this
kind with “Jessie Brown,” the wife of a corporal
in her husband's regiment. Worn out with fa
tigue and that haunting terror of the to come, the
two women sank upon the ground.
Poor Jessie wrapped her Scotch plaid about her
and laid her head in the mistress’s lap. “A con
stant fever consumed her, and she had fallen
away visibly for the last few days,” while her
thoughts continually wandered away to the pur
ple hills and green valleys of her Scotch home.—
How touching are those words:**l promised to
awaken her when, as she said, her father should
return from the ploughing!” So the poor Scotch
woman sank to her sleep, under those burning
midnight skies, amid dreams of her cool, native
heather, and of the peaceful cottage threshhold
where she watched for her father’s coming at
nightfall.
Her companion, too, sank into a troubled slum
ber, though the cannon was roaring near her,
for the brave little band on the batteries, though
all hope had now forsaken them, had resolved
only to yield with their lives.
Suddenly a wild unearthly scream struck through
the lady’s slumber. She opened her eyes, and
there stood Jesie Brown, her figure upright, and
her white, sharpened face bent eagerly forward.
Suddenly the light of a great joy overswept her
face. She bent forward and grasped the lady’s
hands, and drew her close to her, crying with
quivering lips, “Diana ye hear it 1 Dinna ye hear
it! It’s the Slogan o’ the Highlaflders! We,re
saved! we’re saVed!”
Ah, she knew it, she knew it, the old war cry of her
Highland home. Her ears had caught through
all the din and roar of artillery, the music of her
native mountains. What pen can tell the joy
that filled the Scotch woman’s soul at those well
remembered sounds, or with what feelings she
knelt down and blessed the God of her fathers
for this deliverance!
But the poor English lady heard nothing of
this. The “rattle of the musketry” only broke
the stillness of the night, and she thought “Jes
sie was still raving” as she sprang to the batteries
and her voice rang up loua and clear above all
the roar of the fight:
“Courage! courage! hark te the Slogan—to
the Macgregor—the grandest o’ them a’—here’s
help at lastr *
As her voice pealed along the line, anew hope
sprang to the hearts of those worn out men.—
They ceased firing, and listened as the dying lis
ten for some hope of life. But they only* heard >
the tread of the enemy, and the sound of the Sap
pers ; and the Colonel shook his head, and the
men’s heads sank again, and the wail of the wo
men who had flocked to the spot at that cry of
joy rose i0 and filled the midnight with moans.
Then Jessie, who had sank on the ground sprang
up, and her voice rose and vibrated once more in
triumphant certainty along the line? “Will ye no’
believe it noo! The Slogan indeed has ceased, but
the Campbells are coming ! D’ye hear 1 d’ye
hear!”
And then they did hear it—those wailing wo
men—those tsbrn out men ! Sharp and clear
there swelled, above the thunder of the cannon
the pibroch of the Highlanders, and they ‘knew
that deliverance was at hand. No wonder they
thought “the voice of God ” was in the blast of
the Scottish bagpipes ; no wonder they all sank
on their knees, and the strong man, and the fee
ble woman, and the lisping child, sobbed out
from hearts too full for words their thanks unto
Him who had “ given them the victory.” Oh,
speaking as men speak, would it not have been
worth soma years of a, lifetime, to have been with
that little hand at Lucknow as it rose up, and to
have joined in the shout which swelled from a
thousand lips, and rolled down tq the Highland
regiment, as it never rolled before, ‘‘God save the
Queen!”
How the sound must have thrilled the hearts of
the Highlanders, as they answered loud and eager
with that sweet old tune,
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot.”
No, blessed be God! they had not forgotten
“auld lang syne;” for through toil and weariness,
and forced marched, under those burning skies,
they had come, bringing deliverance, when, had
they delayed ’or rest through another day, all
would have been over /”
o’i, Jessie Brown! Jessie Brown! brave Scotch
woman, you had your reward when they led you
before the General, whose name his country will
delight to honor, as he entered the Fort that
night, and when your health was drunken at the
officer’s banquet, and the pipers marched round
the table to the sweet tune of auld lang syne.—
You shall have your reward, too, in knowing that,
wherever, over all the earth, the English tongue
is spoken, your name shall be a household word, ■
honored and beloved!
And when manv years have passed away, and
we sit, gray haired grandfathers and grandmoth
ers, amid our homes, and our grand-children
gather in the long winter evening around us, and
listen eagerly while we tell them of the fearful
slaughter of Cawnpore, we will tell them also of
the deliverance at Lucknow, and the brave story
of “’Jessie Brown.” v. F. T.
That was a very significant reply of a lad, when
being asked what boys were fit for, answered,
“we are fit to make men of.” But how many
boys are there who are not fit to make men or fit
for anything else in the world but to supply jails
with tenants and gibbets with ornaments in hu
man form ? There is a boy who has not yet en
tered his teems, with a cigar in his mouth, an
oath on his lips and a leer upon his whole counte
nance that bespeaks the vacant, vulgar mind. In
his own view of the case, he carries in his brain
more than the concentrated wisdom of three gen
erations of his ancestors; and doubtless he does
of a certain kind of knowledge. He has begun
life early, and at a fearfully rapid rate; but where
will he stop ? It is sad to contemplate what must
inevitably be the latter end of these young sprouts
of fast principles.
We have received the following spicy rejoinder
to Ralph Redblossom’s “ wanted a wife,” which
we published some weeks ago. We will be pleased
to hear often from the fair authoress:
Friend Ralph: Are you really in quest of a
“good wife?” and cb you think the “race has be
come entirely extinct ?”
Oh no, my friend, just you keep up a stout
heart—keep wideawake and duly jolly, andmay
haps you'll wake one of these bright, sunshiny
mornings and have cause to thank your stars for
that continuance of faith that worketli miracles.
I can’t speak for your acquaintances ; but I do
know there is a mischievous sprite not far distant
from this village, that if you could win her heart,
she would give you her hand free gratis—and man
alive! she would make you as happy aS a kitten
in a rollicking play on a sunßliiny day.
She is what the world oalls pretty, some say
“fine looking,” while all agree that she’s proud—
as proud as Lucifer; but then they have never
searched her heart as I have, (I don’talways cred
it a woman’s outward show,) she is only proudly
independent, with a heart as pure, loving and
trusting as ever warmed the breast of woman.
She is also pious—not a religion of to-day, nor to
morrow, but she practices it in her daily walk,
and oh how refreshing to the weary invalid are
her ministrations as she bends over the couch and
whispers “in wisdom and mercy God pain
ful remedies.”
Yet, friend Ralph, she is little below an angel,
for she wears a crinoline, and one of considerable
dimensions too; but if you could see the ease and
grace and sprightly bound with which she mounts
the kitchen steps, you would murmur no more.
Did I say kitchen steps ? certainly! And pray
what business calls a young lady of the present
day to that department ? I’ll tell you What she
goes there for: to cook some of the nicest, dain
tiest little cakes—to see if aunt Peggy follows her
directions in basting the turkey, and to see if the
pies she made this morning have browned as she
desired.
And if you could just see some of the nicely fit
ting dresses that come from this little Abigail’s
hands, you would be strongly convinced that she
could make a shirt too, if there was a call for it.
But Burely my friend, you do not intend to veto
silks and satins altogether: for if you do, my par
agon of perfection, I fear, will not correspond
with your taste; for though she is not burdened
with fine “ duds,” she inherits a limited share of
the love for dress. Besides, she does not talk
politics, though a sensible, intelligent and a pretty
fair conversationalist. Is it absolutely necessary
that she should ?
Well, never mind, if she does not meet your
ideal of a woman, there are many more of your
brotherhood raising the safne lamentable cry for
*• good wives, good wives,” and I’ll just reserve her
to make glad the heart of some other siege lord
not quite so fastidious, But tell me, is not a good
wife deserving of a good husband ? and that be
thinks me friend Ralph, if you should conclude
to give our “sprite” a call, I could merely sug
gest, (meaning no offence,) that you bring a
“stand-by,”—a voucher that you are not guilty
•f “ imbibing,” for she is somewhat particular,
and you know our old fogy fathers—bless their
souls—don’t like to be tricked by youngsters
from a distance. ntN^lfliSw’ ¥
By one who is Interested in your Welfare.
Fort Valley, Feb. 1 5th.
iy r a|
The ground of almost all our false reckoning is. that we
seldom look any further than on one Bide of the ques
tion.
INDIES’ olio.
Woman’s Power.
“ Nor steal nor fire itself hath power,
Like woman in her conquering hour,
Be thou but fair —mankind adore thee !
Smile—and a world is weak before thee!”
The poet has disolosed the whole secret of wo*
man’s conquering power. Fair in her virtue,
smiling in her goodness, she-wields an influence
which mailed wajrrior never could. Her strength
is in her graces, her weapon is love; and her pow
er is resistless when these are combined with
modest merit, and diotated by conscious duty.
In influence, woman is much superior to man
as affection is superior to intellect. Man repre
sents the understanding of the universe, and wo
man the will; man the mind, woman the soul •
man the reason, woman the heart. The power
ot observation and reflection are cold, useless ap
pendages to the human being, unless warmed into
exercise and attached to good objects by the feel
mgs and sentiments of the affectionate mind.
How little in the world do we think, judge and
know, in comparison with what we feel 1 Man
may do mighty things in the intellectual advan
cement of the world ; but
“ What I most prize in woman
Is her affections, not her intellect!
The intellect is finite, but the affections
Are infinite, and cannot be exhausted.”
■ 11
Woman’s Influence over Kan.
The instant a woman tries to manage a man for
herself, she has begun to ruin him. The lovely
creeper clings in its feebleness, with grace to the
stately tree, but if it outgrow, as if to protect or
conceal its supporter, it speedily destroys what it
would otherwise adorn. When the serpent had
persuaded Eve that she ought to induce her hus
band to take her advice, and become as knowing
as herself, she no longer felt herself made for him
and both for God, but rather that he was made to
admire her. When she prevailed they soon bick
ered about their right places, no doubt, for God’s
law was lost sight of oy both. One grand pur
pose of woman’s power over man’s heart is the
maintenance of man's self-respect.
A man who loves a true hearted woman aims
to sustain in himself whatever such a woman can
love and reverence. They mutually put each
other in mind of what each ought to be to other.
To the formation of manly character, the love
and reverence of the virtuous feminine character
is essential. One must see in the other’s love the
reflection of the character desired. Hence, the
the pertinacity of true love andreverence often re
covers a character that would otherwise be lost
forever. If once mutual respect depart, then
farewell the love that can alone rectify what is
wrong ; then farewell the heart rest, without
which life becomes a delirium and an agony. If
it be the faculty of woman to love more tenaciously
than man, her might surpasses his so far as she
is w'ise in showing it. In expressing love without
at the same time indicating her faith in the in
herent dignity of man, however obscured, she only
repels him to a worse condition, by exciting a
reckless sense of his own worthlessness, together
with a hatred of her forgiving patronage. When
man hates himself, what can he love ? Give him
time, and. he will love the soul that clings to him
to save him.— Elective Review .
We find beauty itself a very poor thing unless
beautified by sentiment. The reader may take
the confession as hfe pleases, either as an instance
of abundance of sentiment on our part, or as an
evidence of want of proper ardor and impartiality;
but we cannot (and that is the plain truth) think
the most beautiful creature beautiful, or be at all
affected by her, or long to sit next to her, or go to
the theatre with her, or listen to a concert with
her, or walk in a field or forest with her, or call
her by her Christian name, or ask her if she likes
history, or §in (with any satisfaction) her gown
for her, or be asked whether we admire her shoe,
or take her arm even into a dining-room, or kiss
her at Christmas, or on an April-fool day or May
day, or dream of her, or wake thinking of her, or
feel a want in the room when she is gone, or a
pleasure the moment when she appears—unless she
has a heart as well as a face and is a proper, good
tempered, natural, sincere honestly girl, who has a
love for other people and other things, apart from
self-reverence and a wish to be admired. Her
face would pall upon us in the course of a week,
or even become disagreeable. We should prefer
an enameled tea crop ; we would expect nothing
from it. —Leigh Hunt.
Ladies Growing Old.
“To ‘grow old gracefully’—as one, who truly
has exemplified her theory, has written and ex
pressed it—is a good and beautiful thing ;to grow
old worthily, a better. And the first effort to
that end, is not only to recognise, but to become
personly reconciled to the fact of youth’s depar
true; to see, or, if not seeing, to have faith in, the
wisdom of that which we call change, yet which
is in the truth progression ; to follow openly and
fearlessly, jn ourselves and our own life, the same
law which makes spring pass into summer, sum
mer into autumn, autumn into winter, preserving
an especial beauty and fitnes in each of the four.
“Yes if women could only believe it there is
a wonderful beauty even in growing old. The
charm of expression arising from softened tem
per or ripened intellect, often amply atones for
the loss of form and coloring; and consequent
ly, to those who never could boast either of these
latter, years give much more than they take
away. A sensitive person often requires half a
lifetime to get thoroughly used to this corporeal
machine, to attain a wholesome indifference both
to its defects and perfections—and to learn at last
what nobody would acquire from any teacher but
experience, that it is the mind alone which is of
any consequence; that with good temper, sinceri
ty and a moderate stock of brains—or evert the
former only—any sort of body can in time be
made useful, respectable, and agreeable, as a trav
eling dress for the soul. Many a one, who was
absolutely plain in youth, thus grows pleasant
arid well-looking in declining years. You will
hardly ever find anybody, not ugly in mind, who
is repulsively ugly in person after middle life.”
It is the height of folly for a half dozen bro
thers, four uncles, and a gray headed father try
ing to stop a young girl from getting married to
the man she loves, and who loves her—just as if
rope ladders were out of date, and all the horses
in the world spavined.
Woman as defined by the Chinese. —The strong
minded woman is a dragon in a night cap. The stu
pid woman hatches egg-plums. The obstinate
woman goes to sea in a band-box. The patient wo
man roasts an ox with a burning-glass. The cu
rious woman to turn the rain-bow, to see what
there is on the other side. The vulgar woman is
a spider attempting to spin Jsilk. The cautious
woman writes her promises on a slate. The ex
travagant woman burns a wax oandle in looking
for a lucipher match. The happy woman died
in a blind, deaf and dumb asylum a year ago.
*
A woman is neither worth a great deal or noth
ing. If good for nothing, she is not worth get
ting 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 jealous of
a worthless one—but is a double fool to cut his
throat for either of them.
The women are like ivy—the more you are
ruined the closer she clings to you, A vile old
bachelor adds : “ Ivy is like a woman—the
closer she clings to you, the more you are ruined.”
Poor rule that won’t work both ways.
■
Rev. D. Tyng of New York recently delivered
a lecture, upon Old Women,” in which he
gave “ our grandmothers” the following compli
ment: “ Nothing,” said he, “is more respected
in a private family than the old grandmother who
sits in the centre of its circle. I would not give
up the worth of my children’s grandmother in
my house for the best and handsomest young wo
man in the land.”
Care much for books and piotures. Don’t keep
a solemn parlor into which you go but once a
month with the parson, or the gossips of the sew
ing society. Hang around your walls pictures
which shall tell stories of mercy, hope, courage,
faith and charity. Make your living room the
largest and most cheerful in the house. Let the
place be such that when your son has gone to dis
tant lands, or even when, perhaps, he clings to a
single plank in the lonely waters of the ocean,
the thought of the old homestead shall come across
the waters of desolation bringing always light,
hope and leve.
“ Nat, what are you leaning over that empty cask fort
“I’m mourning over departed apirite.”
FARMER’S COLUMN.
cohoiebciai,.
Angiuta Price* Current.
WXOI.EIAI.X PRICES.
BACON.-Hams, slb lli @ IS
Canvassed Hams, lb 13 (m *l4
Shoulders, 9 (a 10
Western Sides, TANARUS& lb 10i @ 11
Clear Sides, Tenn., lb 11& @ 00
Ribbed Sides, , slb 11 © 00
Hog Round, new, lb 10J (S> 11
FLOUR.—Country bbl 500 (cu 600
Tennessee p bbl 475 @5 60
City Mills bbl 550 @7 50
Etowah $ bbl 500 (g> 750
Denmead’s m bbl 500 @ 700
Extra $ bbl 700 @ 750
GRAIN.—Corn in sack bush 60 (m 65
Wheat, white r fi bush 1 10 Q 1 20
Red tp ft. 100 @ 1 05
Oats bush 45 @ 50
Rye ip bush 70 @ 75
Peas & bush 75 85
Corn Meal ® bush 70 @ 75
IRON.—Swedea plb 5i ® 51
English, Common, p fl> 34 (<£
“ Refined, plb 3$ @
LARD.— &ft 10 @ 11
i MOLASSES.—Cuba aft gal 25 @ 28
St. Croix p gal 40
Sugar House Syrup ip gal 42 @ 45
Chinese Syrup lift ea l 40 50
SUGARS.-N. Orleans p I 8 (5> 9
Porto Rico pft 8i (a) ’ 9
Muscovado plb 8 uu 8i
Refined C Pto 10 @ 11
Refined B flb 10i § 11
Refined A P to 11 @ HJ
Powdered ‘ plb 12 13
Crushed Pto 12 <| 13
SALT.— & sack 1 00 @ 1 10
COFFEE.—Rio $ B> lli @ 124
Laguira plb 13 @ 14-
Java plb 16 @ 18
I>|Ql
The Strawberry Bed.— The land for Strawber
ry culture should be spaded deep, and well supplied
with vegetable matter, and thoroughly incorpora
ted with the soil. We have used the decayed
portion of old logs from the woods, as an annual
dressing, with fine success. Prepare the beds for
the plants by laying off the rows about two and a
half feet apart; raise the rows about two inches,
which ieaves a concave between the rows some
fifteen inches wide. Put the plants twelve inches
apart in the rows. The first season cultivate
the n nicely without any mulching, and pinch
off the runners with the thumb and forefinger as
fast as they make their appearance. The beds
that were set out last spring, should b© well
mulched immediately with pine straw, spent tan,
or cut straw, if it not been done previously.
October or November is the proper time for this
work, because it prevents the plants from freez
ing out during Winter.
Gas Lime. —ln answer to an inquiry as to the
value of Gas Lime, the North British Agriculturist
says—“ Gas lime is nearly identical with slaked
lime, with the addition of gases taken from the
gas on which it has acted as a purifier. One or
more of these gases act injuriously on vegeta
tion ; hence the necessity of applying gas lime
in very small doses, or, preparatory to applica
tion, mixing it up with lime compost. In Ber
wickshire, farmers apply gas lime, which is con
veyed in trucks from Edinburgh, where the price
is nominal. If you apply the gas lime direct,
three to seven tons is an ample allowance. After
it is spread upon the land, allow it to lie for a week
or two previous to plowing. If you have any ma
terial for forming compost, mix it with gas lime,
adding common salt—say at the rate of 3 cwts. to
the acre.”
4li
How to Make a Garden on Clay Soil—Lesson
from Experience. —The Ohio Cultivator describes
the manner in which a gardner near Columbus
known as “Old Joe,” made a good garden on
most forbidding soil: Joe’s garden was originally
a compact clay soil, such as predominates through
out a large portion of Ohio, and is the greatest
obstacle to successful gardening, especially among
farmers and those who cannot afford to do things
thoroughly. But not so with our friend Joe. His
first effort, after erecting a shelter for himself and
his flowers, was to trench a portion of his ground
two feet in depth, mixing with it coarse manure
and other materials to enrich it, and especially
to admit air into it. This was a slow and laborious
operation, but it was the only true way ; and by
doing a little at a time, the whole was accomplished
without much expense, and the result has
been such a healthy growth of his plants and
shrubs, and such power to withstand drought, as
to compensate tenfold for the labor. Since this
fisrt operation on his land, Joe’s favorite applica
tion has been saw dust,''half rotted, iftobe found,
and in its absence, mould of rotted logs from the
woods. A good dressing of these materials is spa
ded into the ground as often as once in two years,
at a cost fully doubldwthe expense of ordinary
manuring. On my expostulating with Joe, one
day, about his free use of saw-dust, and asking for
his theory about its effects, he told me it was “to
give the roots a chance to breathe.” This expla
nation is so sensible, as well as philosophically
correct, that I wish it could be indelibly impressed
on the minds of all owners of clay grounds,
whether fields ■•or gardens. The great want of our
strong clay lands, is not so much the materials for
ejiriching, but to admit the air into them, or as
Joe says, “to give the roots a chance to breathe.”
Let this be done, in connection with draining
where too wet, and deep plowing or trenching, and
the average products of our gardens and fields
would be more than doubled, and the effects of
our hot summers and severe drought wmild hard
ly be noticed.
CLIPPED ITEMS.
A line may be remembered when a chapter la forgotten.
The Paris correspondent of the London Advertiser
says that a formal demand has been preferred upon the
British Government for the expulsion of Victor Hugo,
Mazzini, Ledru, Rollin and Louis Blanc from the Brit
ish territory.
Mr. Wright, the American Minister at Berlin, car
ries his temperance principles with him and astonishes
the people of that capital with entertainments without
wine.
In the Louisiana Senate, notice has been given of the
introduction of a bill to import five thousand negroes
from the coast of Africa.
An affray occurred on the 6th January at a drinking
house in Scriven county, between Ben Harrington s.na
Jerry Fawley. Harrington stabbed Fawley. The lat
ter lingered until the morning of the 27th January when
he died.
It is said that Gen. Concha will this month send to
Spain from' ; Havana, the sum of s6o,ooo,ooo,part of which
is the surplus of 1857.
“ Madame,” said a polite traveller to a testy landla
dy, “ if I see proper to help myself to this milk, is there
any impropriety in it?” “ I don’t know what you
mean: but if you mean to insinuate that there is any
thing bad in that milk, I’ll give you to understand that
you’ve struck the wrong house. There ain’t a first
hair in the milk,for as soon as Dorathy Ann told me the
cat was drowned in it, I went and strained it over.” The
horrified young man declined partaking of the cat fla
vored milk.
A Beautiful Sight.—A fond, confiding and trusting
pair, with hearts overflowing with love and purity,
walking hand in hand, joyously and blushingly, modest
ly and nopefully down the chequered vale of file, is in
deed a beautiful sight.
A young American lady in Paris threatens to sue
President Buchanan for breach of promise; she says
that dining at her father’s table years ago, he said to
her— ■'* My dear Miss, if ever I should be President,
you shall be the mistress of the White House.”
In general, what a woman says with her eyes, de
serves more attention than the words which escape from
her lips; therefore, should she remain silent, although
you have just asked a very interesting question, perhaps
you may find an answer in her eyes.
Col. Inglis, the defendant of Lucknow, India, is a
grandson of the Rev. Dr. Charles Inglis, who was rec
tor of Trinity Church N. Y., from 17/7 to 1/82.
The annuity settled upon the Princess Royal of Jlng
land for life, to commence on the date of her marriage,
is £B,OOO, or nearly $40,000, gee from all tMes, assess
ments and charges, and payable quarterly.
The Jacksonville (Fla,) Republican records the death
of Mrt Winnie Lassiter, on tlie 28th ult. aged 130 years.
native of North Carolina, amfwas married
SITS;.” many year, before .he revoluuon.
The colored waiters of the Troy House, Troy, late}y
struck on a requisiton always complied with, that in
passing through the saloon or officeof the hotel, they
should take off their hats or caps, and Mr. Jones, this
week received a written communication from the dining
room stating that the waiters had resolved not to ob
serve the rule thereafter. The difliculty was summa
rily disposed of.„The indignant waiters were discharged
and anew force of colored waiteroemployed.
The following result of the omission of a comma, is
rather ludicrous. In an interesting article about the in
auguration of the new hospital building in New York,
the writer is made to state that an extensive view is
presented from the fourth story of the Hudson River.