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LITERARY
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PENFIELD, GEORGIA.
I/JiMJCtav &/{otntna, ficlc/et ?i, 455&.
LINGOIiIS IT~VKAZUY - F,DUTOif
Gorin/ for November fully sustains the high rep
utation of that nonpareil of Ladies’ Magazines.
Price, $3 a-year.
-
A slight frost was perceptible in low places in
this vicinity for a couple of mornings last week.
Vegetation but little injured.
C. M. Bosseman, Esq., has been elected Sena
tor* from Pulaski county, vice N. McDuffie,
whose residence was cut off into the new county
of Wilcox.
Arthur's Home Magazine for November contains a
beautiful engraving, many elegant fashion-plates
and much choice reading. This monthly has
rapidly progressed in popular favor for several
years past. Price, $2 a-year; 4 copies, $5.
The Georgia riatfonn says that Col. L. J. Gar
trell will deliver the Eulogy of Gen. Nelson, in
Calhoun, on the 2d of November next at the
laying of the corner stone of the monument to
be erected to his memory in the Court House
square.
Modesty is, as well as honesty, always the best
policy. A man may sometimes gain an office or
some undeserved praise by thrusting himself into
public notice, but it seldom fails to result in his
disadvantage. Far better is it to die unknown
than to die notorious.
The Southern Citizen (Jno. Mitchell’s paper) will,
after the first of December next, be issued from
Washington City. He states that not a number
will be lost in consequence of the removal.
The place of publication of the Dollar Weekly
Times has been changed from Murfreesboro’ to
Woodbury, Tenn.
Human life, says an eminent writer, is like a
game of chess, in which, while the gamester is
absorbed in gaining a secure position on one side
of the board, he is apt to leave an unguarded
point on the other; so in life a man often loses
an advantage, and exposes himself to ruin by be
ing too solicitous to attain some object.
“ Marlby Villa” is the title of a little work which
has been forwarded to us by its enterprising pub
lisher, Wm. Kay, of Atlanta. Its authoress is a
lady of Rome, Ga. who very modestly withholds
her name. We have not had time to give it a
perusal; but, as it is a Georgia production, and
written by a lady, we do not feel unsafe in recom
mending it to that class of readers who delight
in this species of literature.
We learn from the Atlanta Intelligencer that the i
trial of Jno. Cobb, jr. one of the accomplices of j
Radford J. Crockett, in the murder of Landrum,
came off last week. The case was taken up on
Tuesday and occupied the attention of the Court
until Friday night, when the Jury returned a
verdict of guilty. The feelings of the community
were very highly excited, and when the verdict
was announced, a murmur of applause ran through
the court-room. The trial of Jones, the other
accomplice, is now in progross.
“Gab.” —Mr. llumbell, of Philadelphia, has
replied to a circular from his Alma Mater at New
Haven, asking money for a society or club insti
* tuted to train young men to premeditated or ex
temporaneous speaking or discussion, declining
to contribute, lie says :
“flab is the fatal epidemic of republics. What
Greece?’ Gab! What Actionized
* Rome? What anarcliized France? Gab! What
will dismember this Union? Gab ! This eternal
propensity of gabbling upon all occasions and at
all times is the curse of our country.”
The beautiful Rover that for a month past lias
adorned our nightly sky, attracting the eyes of
every beholder, is almost gone. Since its perihe
lion, its rapidity has been astonishing, its motion
being toward the south-west. It is agreed on all
hands, we believe, that no comet of equal bril
liance has ever been seen by the present genera
tion, and we think it doubtful whether any of
greater brightness has ever been known. It is
- somewhat strange, that this passed so near our
planet and excited no apprehensions of a colli
sion, while last year the whole world was seized
with g panic when no comet was to be seen.
An Editor’s Anathema. —Somebody has killed
* the cat of the editor of the Cleaveland Herald.
The following is the manner in which he vents
his spleen on the murderer :
We pour bitterest curses upon the marauder.
May his face be constantly scratched by angry
felines; may the cats of the neighborhood cele
brate their nocturnal orgies underjhis window for
ever and ever; should he ever “keep house,’
may “that cat again,” smash every bit of crocke
ry and glass in the household, and when he eats
sausages may he always find a cat’s claw or a
bunch of suspicious fur in the last piece of the
last sausage. May he be scratched by cats, eat
cats, dream of cats and be disturbed by cats in
sotcida sceculorum. Amen.
The Tomato — lts Ptoperties. —Dr. Bennnett,
a professor of some celebrity, considers it an in
valuable article of diet, and ascribes to it very
mportant medical properties:
1. That the tomato is one of the most power
ful aperients of the Materia Medica, and that
in all those affections of the liver and organs
where calomel is indispensable, it is probably the
most effective and least liar inf cl remedial agent
known to the profession.
2. That a chemical extract pill can be obtained
from it which will altogether supersede the use
*of calomel in the cure of disease.
3. -That he has successfully treated diarrhea
with this article alone.
4. That when used as an article of diet, it is al
most a sovereign remedy for dyspepsia and indi
gestion.
5. That the citizens in ordinary should make
use of it either raw, cooked, or in the form of a
catscup, with their daily food, as it is most healthy
article.— Repository.
Fiction often presents itself in a garb of such
attractive beauty, that we regret that it is not
truth. Even the sternest opponent of error must
sigh when demolishing the delicate and frost-like
creations of the imagination, and rearing upon
their ruins the rough, unseemly structure sos the
real. We give up with reluctance our pleasing
dreams, and shed tears over some hope that fancy
has nourished into life as if a dear friend were
lost. Truth is a remorseless iconoclast. It shivers
into fragments the images around which memory,
vjiope and love have knelt in raptures of devotion.
It spares not the myths which we loved in child
hood, nor the more artistic creations which pleas
ed in later years. When we read in Grecian song
*of the Olympian divinities and of the brave deeds
of high-born heroes, the thought is attended with
that all this is fabulous. Introduced into
the mystic realms of the “Arabian Nights,” we
wander amid its scenes of enchantment, scarce
able to realize that fancy alone originated and
shaped out a world so fair. Who has not dwelt
upon some work of romance until its scenes were
hallowed by the tenderest associations, and all its
characters seemed old, familiar friends?
PRIESTHOOD AND PRIESTCRAFT have been
1 agencies in the world from its earliest his
tory, and have exerted no small influence in di
recting its destinies. In almost every nation of
the earth, a class of men have existed who have
been considered, in many respects, the represen
tatives of Deity, and to whose office a peculiar
reverence has been paid. But it is only where
the Christian religion has obtained, that the inti
mate anil endearing relation of pastor and peo
ple has been known. WiMi that word, a multi
tude of sweet and tender associations arise to the
mind. Ihe flock feeding in fields where bounte
ous nature lias brought forth herbage in rich pro
fusion, young lambs skipping in innocent play
fulness, the faithful shepherd watching with
kindly care to protect them from every foe, and
at night closing them up in safety within the fold,
are all presented to our view. It is a delicate,
appropriate and instructive comparison, pointing
out to the Christian minister what he should do,
and the path which he should tread.
Among Tagan nations, the priests professed to
be endowed with super-human powers, in order
to gain a more assured dominion over the minds
of the masses. The Pythoness who presided over
the Oracles of Grecian Divinities was the recipi
ent of an inspired knowledge which she could
not control. The Egyptian priest patiently plod
ded over the lore of abstruse sciences, mysterious
as the stream on whose banks he dwelt, by the
aid of which he held crowds of ignorant devotees
subject to his influence. The Druids, by the
charms of poesy and the mummeries of a mystic
religion, acquired a power over the minds of tho
people which the conqueror’s arms or the tyrant’s
tortures could not su2iplant or subdue. Where
ever the Christian faith has extended, the power
of the priesthood has been, beyond dispute, most
decided and universally felt. This is honorable
alike to the human heart and head. It shows
how deep is the religious feeling in man’s nature;
how strong is the conviction of his immortality;
how conscious he is of his inability to raise him
self to a higher and purer state of existence. Sad
is it to think that a feeling so ennobling in itself
has been the cause of his greatest degradation
and suffering.
The power of the priesthood has beon one of
the chief sources of its corruption. Men love
power in all its forms, and there are few things
they will not do for its acquirement. But if
there is one form more highly desirable than all
others, it is that which subjects the mind to con
trol. This is the kind of influence which the
priest of almost every religion that has ever exis
ted upon the earth have gained. Hence, the po
sition became a desirable one. The sacrifices
which they were required to make, and the labors
which they had to perform, seemed trifling, com
pared with the sure reward which lay ahead. It
is not a matter of surprise, then, that the church
was soon cursed with shepherds who were more in
tent on fleecing than on feeding their flocks. If
they toiled for the promotion of religion, it was
only that it might enhance their importance and
increase their power. Their good deeds were de
| lusive mockeries, performed from selfish motives,
! and their canting pretentions sheer hypocrisy.
This corrupt priesthood degraded religion, rob
bed it of its spiritual nature and elevating ten
dencies. When the ministers of the Gospel, for
getful of the high purposes whereunto they were
called, began to crave power and pander to de
praved prejudices for gold, the line of demarka
tion between the church and the world became
less and less distinct. Corruption beginning thus
at the head, extended to every part. The mes
sengers of poace armed themselves wiih the wea
pons of carnal warfare, or resorted to the chica
nery of professed tricksters. Every appeal was
silenced by the thunders of the Vatican, and the
decrees of councils were clothed with the omnip
otent infallibility of Jehovah. The Bible was a
forbidden book, its code of morals replaced and
its precepts forgotten. Yet, at this period, when
all the world was given over to darkness and to
Rome, a ray of light shone out here and there
which gained a greater brilliance from its sur
rounding of gloom. .Sometimes an obscure monk,
at rare intervals a prominent priest, might have
been found who practised the charity, benevo
lence and peace which they enjoined on others—
who did not with one hand push the poor wretch
down to hell, while with the other they pointed
him to Heaven. These were the saving salt of
those ages of darkness and unbelief, who were
finally the instruments in bringing on the hope
ful dawn of the Reformation.
In the priesthood of the church of England,
though holiness of life was not deemed essential
for tho attainment of the cassock and the gown,
many noble instances have been known where
piety, learning and humility were combined.
There the pastoral relation existed in its most
touching simplicity and beauty. The incumbent
of a “living” often lived in the same house,
preached in the same chapel, prayed at the same
desk, while two or three generations lived and
died. The children whom he christened were
reared under his charge, and in turn brought
their offspring to him for a blessing and a name.
It was such an one as this who sat for the charm
ing portrait which the poet has drawn:
“A man he was to all the country, dear,
And passing rich, with forty pounds a-year ;
Remote from towns, lie ran his godly race,
Nor e’er had changed, nor wished to change his place.
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
For other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt and pain, by turns, dismayed,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the guilty soul;
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last, faltering accents whispered praise.
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place ;
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran.
E’en’children followed, with endearing wile,
And plucked his gown to share the good man’s smile.
His ready smile a parent’s warmth expressed—
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed.
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven.”
In no class have mankind, generally, been more
disposed “to look in man for more than man,”
than the clergy. They have expected to find
here a purity of heart, a sanctity of purpose and
an uprightness of conduct which must be sought
for in vain in our sin-stricken world. But they
have evinced these qualities more universally
than the same number of men of any other pro
fession. True, many, like the ill-starred Wolsey,
have sought more for power and wealth, and
the pride, pomp and circumstance of earthly
rank than of the good of souls. Too often have
their petty jealousies distracted the world, and
disgraced the cause of religion. But these are
exceptions, and numerous though they be, they
are none the less exceptions, and our statement
is not disproven thereby. Yet, did every clergy
man exhibit these faults, they are but men, and
cannot bo expected to rise entirely superior to
all the weaknesses of which mortality is heir,
while prisoners of the flesh and subject to its
temptations.
When speaking of the influence which he ex
erts over the opinions and actions of his fellow
men, we were looking at the bright side of the
minister’s life. Le us reverse the picture. Eve
rywhere—but particularly in Protestant countries
—he is expected to do much work and receive
little pay. In many cases, the amount doled out
is scarce sufficient to supply the commonest ne
cessaries, and even that is considered more as a
charitable donation than as remuneration for ser
vices rendered. Public opinion does not allow
him the liberty of placing a price upon his own
labor—a right which the humblest artisan enjoys.
Should he manifest a desire to improve his cir
cumstances, it is taken as an evidence of worldly
mindedness, which detracts much from his Chris
tian character. He is expected ■to support his
family honestly, and display a liberal hospitality
on salaries which other men, with all their trick
ery and close-fisted parsimony, find inadequate.
Faults which, in others, are not only venial, but
almost commendable, are, in him, enormities.
He must be careful to let his descriptions of im
morality be imaginary, and never dare to sketch
out boldly the sins of those before him. Such
are some of the shadows that fall across the pas
tor’s pathway. When we take these into consid’
eration, the priesthood appears the most disin
terested —the most self-sacrificing of all mankind.
Drowning and Suffocation. —A writer in Black
wood, in an ablo and instructive article on Respi
ration, thus shows the identity of two things which,
to common observation, seem entirely dissimilar:
“ A young man, in all the vigor of abounding
life, shuts himself up in liis room, prevents the
access of fresh air, closing the windows, chimney,
and chinks, lights a pan of charcoal, and seating
himself at his writing-desk, begins to unburthen
his heart of its sorrow, in the tragic eloquence of
one for whom such sorrow is insupportable. The
poor boy has been refused the hand of the girl he
loves, and believing that without her life would be
worthless, he has resolved on suicide. As his pen
hurries over the paper, the vapor from the burn
ing charcoal fills the room. His pulses throb, his
head is hot, his breathing oppressed. The can
dle is beginning to burn dimly, and its flame
lengthens. He is unable to continue. He walks
languidly up and down tho room, and finally
crawls to the bed. Life slowly ebbs. On the
following morning, when his door is burst open,
a corpse is stretched upon the bed.
A few hours later, she whom he lov£d, and
who loves him, hears of this rash act, which an
nihilates oven hope. In her despair she flings
herself into the dark and sullen Seine. The next
morning a corpse is exposed at the dreadful
Morgue. The casual spectator gazes on it with
undefinable awe, as he thinks of the stillness of
that wondrous organism, which but a few hours
before was so buoyant with life. Where is all
that mystery now ? The body is there, the form
is there, the wondrous structure is there, but
where is its activity? Gone are the graceful
movements of those limbs, and the tender sweet
ness of those eyes ; gone the rosy glow of youth,
and the soft eagerness of womanly grace; gone
the music of that voice, and the gaiety of that
heart. The mystery of Life ha3 given place to
the mystery of Death.
What has thus suddenly arrested the wondrous
mechanism, and, in the place of two palpitating,
vigorous beings, left two silent corpses? The
cause seems so trifling that we can only marvel at
its importance, when revealed in the effect; it
was the same in both oases, in spite of the differ
ence of the means: that which killed the one,
killed the other; the fumes from the charcoal
pan, and the rushing waters of the Seine, inter
rupted the exchange of a small quantity of gases,
and by preventing the blood from getting rid of
its carbonic acid, in exchange for an equivalent
of oxygen, the fervid wheels of life were suddenly
arrested. It is the same cause, acting with mil
der force, which makes the faces pale of those
who issue from a crowded church, and gives a
languor to those who have sat for some hours in
a theatre, concert-room, or any other ill-ventila
ted apartment in which human beings have been
exhaling carbonic acid from their lungs. A breath
of fresh air quickly restores them, and after
breathing this fresh air, during a walk home,
they scarcely feel any evil results of the late par
tial suffocation. Had the young man’s door been
burst open, and fresh air admitted to his room,
or had the girl been rescued from the river, and
made to breathe within a few minutes after her
plunge, both would have been finally restore 1, as
our concert-goers are restored ; and the concert
goers, if kept much longer in that ill-ventilated
room, would have perished, as the lovers per
ished.”
A little farther on, he throws out a paragraph
for the benefit of the ladies, on the subject ot
tight-lacing:
“The injurious effect of tight-lacing has often
been pointed out, and in England, at least, wo
men have pretty generally learned to see the dan
ger, if not always the hideousness, of those wasp
waists once so highly prized. A single fact elic
ited in the experiments of Ilerbst will probably
have more weight than pages of eloquent exhor
tation. It is this: The same man who, when
naked, was capable of inspiring 190 cubic inches
at a breath, could only inspire 130 when dressed;
now, if we compare the tightness of woman’s
stays with the tightness of a man’s dress, we shall j
easily form a conception of the serious obstacle j
stays must be to efficient breathing; and the in
jurious effect of this insufficient breathing con
sists in its inducing a depression of all the vital
functions.”
•
THERE is an unspeakable beauty in the deep
azure of the autumnal sky. It is so clear
that, as you look, it recedes from your gaze far off
into a boundless immensity, where neither form
or color resides. It is only when we thus peer
into it long and steadily that we become con
scious that there is no real, tangible, objective
sky. Yet, it is lovely. Like looking down into
the eye when the soul lies there in all its fulness,
the depths appear infinitely immeasurable. There
is in it a strain of rich poetry which the tongue
cannot speak or the pen write—nay, which the
heart cannot contain in its outgushing fulness.
The morn is up. Her messengers, on wings of
light, have sped over the earth, and darkness
rolls off her pale shadows at their bidding. The
warm blushing fingers of sunlight brush away the
dusky mantles of night, and pour in the floods of
day. Brighter and brighter grows the East, until
the sun lifts his globe above the tree-tops and
fills the whole world with his glory. The frosty
air, which gave the stars a dazzling brilliance, im
parts to the sky a deep clearness which fills us
with exhilirating ecstasy.
Evening is closing, and the sun is sinking to his
Western home. That is a realm of pure ether
through which he rolls, for no mist or vapor is
lingering there. As the last line of his burning
disk passes from the sight, all the West glows
with a roseate effulgence. The rich light comes
and goes like the warm blushes on beauty’s cheek,
until it gradually fades away and leaves the sky
in its serene blueness. Then it is that we feel
that it has a glory and eloquence of its own, with
out a covering of golden light or gorgeously tin
ted clouds.
Some of the Watering Places in Virginia.—
The Richmond Dispatch thus describes one of
these fashionable resorts to which some go for
pleasure, some for recreation and some for health,
but which all leave disappointed, chagrined and
“used up” generally. We know of no malady
but ennui that can oe healed bv a watering place,
and even that often fails of a cure:
“ It required all the medicinal virtues of the
Springs to neutralize the debilitating influence
of the tables (of some of them.) There is no
doubt that prudence and moderation in diet are
of benefit to health, and we are willing to imag
ine that it was a purely philanthropic motive
which induced some of the proprietors of the
Springs to have as little variety in their faro as
possible, to stint it in quantity, and to have it
mean in quality, so that thereby persons in pur
suit of health might not overload their stomachs.
For the same reason, we dare say, they furnished
them at night with blood letting gratis, keeping
on hand, in every bed, a supply of surgical ope
rators, who relieved the visitors of any superabun
dance of blood in their systems. But all this,
however well meant, was mistaken kindness, and
in nine cases out of ten, was not appreciated by
the guests. * * * We onco heard of an at
tache of a fashionable watering place, who re
marked to a companion, as he saw a crowded
stage, the twelfth since morning, drive up to the
door—“ Well, here comes another stage load of
fools.”
Hon. J. J. Mcßae, without opposition, has
been eleoted to Congres, in Missiissippi, to sup
ply the vacancy oreated by the death of the Hon.
John A. Quitman.
Should a man who proposes building a house
commence at the top, all would join in deriding
his folly. Should one who wished to ascend a
ladder try to begin at the topmost round, we
would think him crazed. Yet are many guilty of
this same lolly in the conduct of their whole lives.
When wo see a young man who is just entering
upon business spend three dollars for every one
he makes*, and displaying a lavish hand in all his
outlays, we think he is beginning at the top to
build his fortune. Soon all his work will fall in,
and he will find that he not only has no founda
tion, but that he has sunk many feet below
ground, whence he will have to climb long and
laboriously beforo he attains tho elevation from
which ho might at first have started. When wo
see a young man thrusting himself forward upon
all occasions, and striving to make the world agree
with him in his estimate of his own importance,
w r e think he has commenced at the wrong end of
the ladder. Still, he persists in his absurd
course, not aware that all who behold are amused
at his fruitless efforts. These bo equally fools,
but fools very different in kind. The one may
excite pity, but the other elicits only contempt.
Six suicides a week is about the average in Cin
cinnati.
Os fifty-seven children on the Austria, not one
was saved.
Two of Charles Dicken’s brothers have been’
separated from their wires.
The fame which follows true greatness no friend
need hold up, and no enemy can keep down.
The brandy, wine, cigars and tobacco, imported
into the United States last year cost $11,934,-
898.
An American getleman, of arespectable family,
is serving as Lieutenant in the Wurtemberg
army.
flhe potato crop is said to be so plenty in East
Hartford, Conn., as to sell for seventeen cents per
bushel.
“ Pa, ain't I growing tall ?” “ Why, wliat’s
your height sonny?” I’m seven feet lacking a
yard.”
A Maine editor says that a pumpkin in that
State grew so large that eight men could stand
around it,
“You seem to walk more erect than usual, my
friend.” “Yes,.l have been straightened by cir
cumstances.”
It is estimated that each of the principal ho
tels in Saratoga has this season realized a net
profit of $25,000.
The fourth Auditor of the the Treasury De
partment at Washington, Aaron O. Dayton, died
recently in that city.
Bishop Soule of the Methodist Church, South
is in very feeble health, his condition being con
sidered quite precarious.
The names of the election precincts in Schley
county, Ga., are Pond Town, Lick Skillet, Bump
Head, and Nubbing Hill.
By the last accounts from Frazer river, provis
ions were very scarce and dear. Dog meat was
selling at fifty cents per pound.
An Irish painter announced to an Irish jour
nal that, among other portraits, he had a repre
sentation of “ Death as large as life.”
Mrs. Octavia Le Yert has in contemplation a
tour of Palestine next season. Another book of
Souvenirs is expected to be the result.
Pious gentleman—“My boy ! my boy 1 you do
very wrong to fish on Sunday !” Boy—“It can’t
be no harm, sir, I ain’t cotched nothin.”
An editor out west who served four days on a
jury says that he is so full of law that it is hard
for him to keep from cheating somebody.
If you wish to cure a scolding wife, never fail
to laugh at her with all your might until she
ceases —then kiss her. Sure cure certain.
Mr. James a Meriwtelier and William Henry
Harrison, Georgia, were among those Acting Mid
shipmen at the Naval Academy, at Annapolis, re
cently.
Intelligence from Rome announces the ap
pointment of the Very Rev. E. Purcell of Cin
cinnati, as Coadjutor Bishop of the Catholic Dio
cese of Pittsburg.
Hon. Henry Bedinger, late minister to Den
mark, has arrived at home in Jefferson county,
Va., and has been cordially greeted by his nu
merous friends of all parties.
Lord and Lady Napier have gone to Auburn,
N. Y. They will make a short stay with Senator
Seward by whom they will be accompanied on a
westward trip via Niagara Falls.
The ladies of lowa are decidedly “fast.” On
the 18th ultimo, a race of ladies, on foot, came
off at lowa City, for a silver cake basket. The
prize was won by a Miss Handy.
Married happiness is a glass ball. The glad
couple play with it during the honeymoon, till,
falling it is shivered—and the rest of life is too
often a wrangle as to which broke it.
A. Keene Richards, of Georgetown, Ky., has de
termined to purchase the celebrated English race
horse Fisherman, and bring him to this country.
The price to be paid for him is $30,000.
A Bangor paper says a man passed through
that city recently, in a gig drawn by a lusty bull,
and driving before him six heifers and two colts
all bound for a settlement in the Aroostook.
A certain judge after hearing a florid discourse
from a young lawyer, advised him to pluck out
some feathers from the wings of his imagination,
and put them in the tail of his judgemnt.
“How do you like my face, Miss ?” said an in
dividual, whose forehead and chin protruded
very much, while the intermediate features formed
a concavity. “0, sir, it is my favorite dish.”
Dr. James McDowell,. of Missouri,. is the gen
tleman who has been appointed United States
Consul General to Constantinople. He is the
oldest son of the late Gov. McDowell, of Virginia.
Professor McPhail, of Lafayette College, Indi
ana, recently stated that to Lafayette College be
longs the honor of establishing, for the first
time in this country, professorship of the English
language.
The Savannah Republican, of Tuesday the sth,
says that 930 bushels of new rice, the first of the
season, has been received in that city from the
plantation of Dr. James P. Screven and consigned
to W. Woodbridge, Esq.
During the seventeenth century the patents
granted for inventions in England were 250; in
the next hundred years they amounted to 1,500,
and in the first fifty years of the present century
they had exceeded 250,000.
Curiosity is a thing that makes us look over
other people’s affairs, and overlook our own.
Xenocrates, reprehending curiosity, said, it is as
rude to intrude into another man’s house with
your eyes as with your feet.
The first cargo of the crop of Malaga fruit ar
rived at Boston on Wednesday. The cargo con
sists of 13,992 boxes, 4,000 half-boxes, and 3,>WU
quarter boxes of raisins, 400 boxes of lemons, o'Z
frails almonds, and 300 half drums figs.
Tho family of Wm. P. Molett, Esq., of Dallas
county, Alabama, consisting of tho father, mot i
or, brother-in-law and seven grand-cliildren, it is
said, have given fifty dollars each, or five hundred
and fifty dollars in all, to the Mount Vernon
fund.
Alexander Buchanan died lately in Smyth
county, Va., at the advanced age of 98 years.
He had voted for every President of
lie since its foundation. Capt. Brown, of ’
the adjoining county, is 101 years old, and still i
health.
Thompson in his younger days, was seized with
madness for the hoop. He writes:
“One thing l mind, a spreading hoop she wore
Than nothing which adorns a lady more;
With equal rage could I its beauty sing
l’d with a hoop make all Parnasus ring.
INSPIRED PARROT.
The story of the composer Rameau’s extraordi
nary bird is one of the most furious chapters of
Operatic history. The gifted man was, one day,
walking up and down one of the best built streets
in Paris, so entirely absorbed, (as was liis wont)
in his dreams of composition, that he was wholly
unobservant of the “rights of thouroughfare.”
He ran against some whom he met, and alarmed
others; but was generally taken for a madman
and excused accordingly.
Tho twilight came on and the street darkened
? , t ie composer still pursued his promenade
ack and forth ; when suddenly on the stillness
o le evening, there arose a train of delicious
me ot y a voice ot the most wonderful richness
and clearness of vibration, and singing one of hit
own exquisite compositions!
n Jin 6 Ct or \ tl f, “' riter of the music was mag-
F® sea |- e d lnmself on the pavement in
front ot the stately mansion from whence the
sound proceeded, buried his head in his hands,
and feasted with luxury indescribable, upon such
performance of his own notes as ho had never be
fore heard.
Seized at last with burning curiosity to know
who was the wonderous and unseen singer, and
not daring to present himself at the door of the
house, he climbed up by the railing and balconies
to get a stolen look in at the window. The cur
tains were open and the drawing-room was lighted;
but of the lovely creature whom he expected to
see, there was no sign. Only in the corner of the
balcony next him, was set a splendid cage; and
in it, upon a suspended gold ring, sat a superb par
rot, of emerald-green plumage, the only visible
inhabitant of the mansion.
Disappointed and vexed, Rameau began to de
scend again to the ground, when the silence was
once more broken by the same entrancing voice ;
and now there was no mistaking the source of it
—the song came from the cage !It was the parrot,
who sang his inspired notes so beautifully.
Milking sure of the fact by closer examination,
the composer descended and presented himself
at the door of the house. On inquiring for the
resident master or mistress, he was introduced to a
young and beautiful woman, the Countess ,
to whom he announced his name, at once offering
twenty-five louts d’ors, all the money he had in the
world, for the wonderful bird.
“I adore my parrot,” said the highbred woman,
“and no money would buy him of me ; but I will
exchange him with the gifted Rameau for a single
original composition of his musical genius, written
on the spot.”
Asking for only ruled paper and pen, the de
lighted Rameau seated himself at a table, and
the flow of inspiration was. 1 electrified with the
novelty and beauty of his adventure.
The parrot proved a most rare bird, in the
hands of the composer, and became the luxury of
his life, as the prompt learner and reciter of the
new airs he composed. And it got to be his favor
ite way of reproving the singers, at the rehearsals
of his opera, to say to them that they “should go
and take a lesson of his parrot.”
Life is but death’s vestibule ; and our pilgrim
age on earth is but a journey to the grave. The
pulse that preserves our being beats our death
march, and the blood which circulates our life is
floating it onward to deeps of death. To day we
see our friends in health, to-morrow we hear of their
decease. We clasped the hand of the strong man
but yesterday, and to-day we close his eyes.
We rode in the chariot of but an hour ago, and in
a few more hours the last black chariot must con
vey us to the home of all living. Oh, how close
ly allied is death to life! The lamb that sport
eth in the field must soon feel the knife. The ox
that loweth in the pasture is fattening for the
slaughter. Trees do but grow that they may be
felled. Yea, and greater things than these feel
death. Empires rise and flourish ; they flourish
but to decay, they rise to fall. How often do
we take up the volume of history and read of
the rise and fall of empires. We hear of the
cornoation and death of kings. Death is the
black servant who rides behind the chariot of
life. See life and death is close behind it.
Death reaclieth far throughout this world, and
hath stamped all terrestrial things with the board
arrow of the grave. Stars die mayhap ; it is said
that conflagrations have been seen far off in the
distant ether, and astronomers have marked the
funerals of worlds—the decay of those mighty
orbs that we had imagined set forever in sockets
of silver, to glisten as the lamps of eternity.
But, blessed be God, there is one place where
death is notlife’s brother—where life reigns alone;
“to live,’ is not the first syllable which is to be
followed by the next, “to die.” There is a land
where death-knells are never tolled, where
winding sheets are never woven, where gravesare
never dug. Blest land beyond the skies! To
reach it we must die.— Spurgeon.
-
SPECIAL. PROVIDENCE.
The question arises, Is there a moral or scien
tific probability that Gcd ever produces results
by natural laws, in this world, which otherwise
these would not have produced ? If we drive nat
ural laws cannot God do it ? I hold, because the
Bible teaches it, and now I hold it more because
nature and science teaches it, that there are mil
lions of results that never would have fallen out
in the course of nature, that are now continually
falling out on account of God’s special mercy.
The doctrine of a special providence is this, God
administers natural laws—of the mind, the body,
and the outward world—so as to produce effects
which they never would have done of themselves.
Man can do it, and why not God ? By a wise use
of natural laws man can make the difference be
tween comfort and discomfort. He can till the
farm, and make the seasons serve him. He can
take natural laws, and gird himself about with
them, so that they shall make him rich and wise
and strong. Men can do it for themselves—why
cannot God do it for them ? Men can do it for
their children —for their neighbor’s children—for
scores and hundreds of persons. A farmer that
administers his estate wisely, will have enough,
not only for himself, but for others. Hischildren
will be fed, the neighbohoo# supplied, and the
veins of commerce swollen by the overplus of his
sagacity. A man can say to the light, to the wa
ter, to the seasons,. “I will, by you, make a special
providence for this whole town,” and he can do
it; for if he falls back, there will not be abun
dance, but if he goes forward there will be. That
is not all. A man may be put at a point where as
Napoleon was, or Wellington in Spain, or John
Moore in the north of Portugal, or live in India
—where he can make a special providence for a
nation, for a race,'for an age, for one land, for the
“lobe ! Now God can do a great deal more than
man, and a great deal better. Is there any ob
jections to such doctrine? — Beecher.
THE MAMMA WITH NINE DAUGHTERS.
Haines Bailey writes quite a poem on the two
ways a mamma has to talk who has such a large
responsibility. We can give an idea of it by ex
tracting a verse or so. First, this is the way she
talks to the girls :
“Don’t stoop like that,my sweetest Rose ;
Maria, dear turn out your toes ;
It gives me pain, my angel Jane,
To see your squint come back again-!
Anne, what can make your nose so red ?
Constantia. do hold up your head;
I wish Kate’s ankles were’nt so thick;
Bess, keep your mouth shut, there’sa chick.’”
Then there comes along “Sir Charles,” whom she
hopes ta “catch” for one of them, and to him she
thus talks about the girls:
“You’ll come to tea, Sir Charles, you’ll see
A most harmonious family.
Bess plays the lute, Ann the guitar,
Jane learns the harp of sweet Labirre;
Rose and Maria, if they’re press’d,
Make use of Broadwood’s very best;
Constantia sings, indeed we all
Love music—you are musical?”
But the marriageable man is dismayed at the
mutitudinousness of tho temptation:
“‘l’m musical,’ Sir Charles replied,
And took his hat, and hem’d and sighed ;
‘l’m musical, and charm’d to view
Such harmony. Dear ma’m, adieu,
Ah, what an orchestra for me
Could I wed all the family.
Farewell, temptation let me shun,
’Twould spoil the band to marry one.’ ”
A Keobuk paper gives a distressing picture of
things in lowa, comparing its condition to that
of “tho doomed city of Jerusalem.” They have
creditors without and creditors within, every
third man is a lawyer, every other man virtually
a pauper, and all standing in listless and unprofit
able idleness except the police and constables.
“Do you believe in second love, Mishter Mc-
Quade V’
“Ho I believe in second love ? Humph ! if a
man buys a pound of sugar, isn’t it swate ? and
it’s gone, don’t he want another pound, and isn’t
that swate too ? Troth, Murphy, I belay® in sec
ond love 1”
EXTRACT FROM “THE AIRS OF PALES
TINE.”
On Arno’s bosom, as he calmly flows,
And his cool arms round Valloir.brosa throws,
Rolling his crystal tide through the classic vales,
Alone—athight—the Italian boatman sails.
High o’er Mont Alta walks, in maiden pride,
Night’s queen; he see her image on that tide,
Now ride the wave that curls its infant crest.
Around his brow, then rippling sinks to rest;
Now, glittering, dance around his eddying oar,
Whoso every sweep is echoed from the shore;
Now, lar before him, on a liquid bed
Os waveless water, rests her radiant head.
How mild the empire of that virgin queen !
How dark the mountain’s shade ! How still the scene !
Hushed by her silver sceptre, sephyrs sleep
On dewy leaves, that overhang the deep,
Nor dare to whisper through the boughs, nor stir
The valley’s willow, nor the mountain’s fir,
Nor make the pale and breathless aspen quiver,
Nor brush, with ruffling wing, that glassy river.
Hark ! —’tis a convent’s bell —its midnight chime;
For music measures even the march of time—
O’er bending trees, that fringe the distant shore,
Gray turrets rise—the eye can catch no more.
The boatman, listening to the tolling bell,
Suspends his oar; a low and solemn swell,
r< J[ Tl the deep shade, that round the cloister lies,
Kolls through the air, and on the water dies.
W hat melting song wakes the cold ear of night?
A funeral dirge, that pale nuns robed in white,
Chant round a sister's dark and narrow bed,
1° charm the parting spirit of the dead.
.triumphant is the spell! What raptured ear,
1 hat uncaged spirit, hovering, lingers near;
W by should she mount? why pant for brighter bliss,
A lovlior scene, a sweeter song, than this !
[Pierpont.
REDEEMING THE TIME. .
Arise, and no longer dream the hours
Os life away!
Arise! and do thy being’s work,
While yet ’tis day.
The Doer, not the Dreamer, breaks
The baleful spell,
Which binds, with iron bands, the earth
On which wc dwell!
Up, man ! or War, with fiery feet,
Will tread down men.
Up! or his bloody hands will reap
The eartii again !
Up! or the cannon-boom will rend
Once more the sky;
And gory heaps of murdered men
Around you lie.
The brow of Wrong is laurel bound^
Not girt with shame;
And love, and truth, and right as yet
Are but a name!
From out time’s urn your golden hours
Flow fast away!
Then, dreamer! up and do life’s work,
While yet ’tis day.
REVERIES OF A MAIDEN LADY.
Sixteen years old. —l wonder if every young girl
forms as many plans for the future as I do ; and
such pleasant plans too. It seems tome one’need
only live to be happy. 1 shall soon leave school;
then I intend to read a great deal, and study
housekeeping, so that when I am married I may
make a pleasant home for my husband.
Nineteen years old. —Two winters in society !
Well, I have learned one thing. 1 find that the
world views me as neither hadsome, rich, nor
entertaining; consequently I am not of much im
portance, which is not a very pleasant discovery:
but lam sure 1 have a mind and a heart. What
am I to do with them ?
Twenty-three years old. —l am no longer happy ;
the spirit of unrest has taken possession of me.
How can I live this weary life of inanity? I try
to neglect no household duty ; but we have plen
ty of servants to do all the work. A woman’s
lot is a sad one ; she is told “her noblest station
is retreat.” Oh, that I were a man, that I might
be active, were it but in money making. lam
not good enough to live a wholly benevolent life;
yet I want occupation. I have no desire to go to
party after party, as many a young lady does, hor
ping to find a husband. The whole system of
society is degrading to woman. It seems to me
it ;vould be better to offer proposals of marriage
openly to gentlemen, than to use the manoeuvres
are now practised—that is, if a woman must be
be married. Must she, in order to be happy ? I
do not know.
Twenty-six yeaxs old. —llovv the years glide on,
marked by many events and experiences; but
my mind is still uncertain about life. Many wo
men in my place would have married Mr. 8., for
he loved me, plain and unattractive as I am ;
but though he was worthy of a better woman than
myself, I did not love him as a wife should love
her husband. The few men who have happened
to care for me 1 have not fancied and so I will be
an old maid. But, what shall l live for? What
shall I do to be happy ?
Thirty-Jrve years old. —A faint gleam of light seemS
to shine upon my path—a feeling of the truth
that our life here is a probation ; that “enjoyment
and not sorrow, is our destined end or way.” I
have ever been seeking after happiness—earthly
happiness : but now 1 feel a degree of willingness
to receive every event, whether joyful cr sad, as
sent by an All-wise Creator. With this willing
ness, comes a feeling of strange contentment.
What matters a little more or less of transitory
earthly pleasure? The greatest amount of com
fort in life is] secured by being alive to the bles
sings that we receive day by day, appreciating
the blessings of our own lot—not envying others.
The education of girls is very cruel; they are
obliged to learn wisdom by sad experience.
Why cannot they be fitted, as far as possible, to
bear life under any aspect? Instead of teaching
them that the only happy state of woman is that
of wife and mother, let them grow up with the
idea that marriage is an accident in life, some
times a sad one. Either they should be educated
in this way, or tho opportunities of marriage
should be as free to woman as to man. Why
could notparents invite gentlemen to their houses
with the avowerd object of selectingsuitable hus
bauds for their daughters ? Many a worthy man
would then gain a wife to whom he would never
have dared toaspire. Why should it be thought
more immodest for a to girl show an innocent pre
ference for the society of agentleman—this prefer',
ence founded on true admiration and respectr-than
for her to love and marry a man merely out of
gratitude for his fancying her? If women only
felt the certainty that they marry if they choose,
half the foibles of their character—such as vanity
and jealousy —would be much lessened. Their
aims in life’ would be nobler; they would make
better daughters and sisters, and better members
of society, and should they marry, better wives.
Home Journal.
<♦■
A CEMETERY WITHOUT A MONUMENT.
The noblest of cemeteries is the the ocean. Its
poetry, and in human language ever will be urn
written. Its elements of sublimity are subjects
of feelings, not description. Its records, like the
reflection mirrored on his waveless bosom, can
not be transferred to paper. Its vastness, its
eternal heavings, its majestic music, in a storm
and in its perils, are things which I had endeav
ored a thousand times to conceive, but until I
was on its mighty bosom, looking out upon its
moving mountain waves, feeling that eternity
was distant from me the thickness of a single
plank, I had tried in vain te feel and know the
glories and grandeur of the sea. 1 there first felt
what John of Patmos meant when he said of
heaven, “There shall be no more sea.” But there
is one element of moral sublimity which im
pressed my mind, and which I should be pleased
if I could transfer, ii? all its vividness, to the
mind of the reader. The sea is the largest of
cemeteries, and all its slumberers sleep without
a monument. All other graveyards, in all lands,
show some symbols of distinction between the
great and the small, the rich and the poor; but
in that ocean cemetery the king and the clown
the prince and the peasant, are alike undistin
guished. The same wave rolls over all—the same
requium, by the mintrelsy of ocean, is sung to
their honor. Over their remains the same storm
beats and the same sun shines; and there, un
marked, the weak and the powerful, the plumed
and the unhonored, wist sleep on until awakend
by the same trump, the sea will give up its dead.
I thought of sailing over the slumbering but de
voted Cookman, who after his brief but brilliant
career, perished in the President —over the
laughter-loving Power; who went down m the
same ill-fated vessel we have passed. In that
cemetery sleeps the accomplished and pious Fish
er ; but where ho and thousands of others tho
noble spirits of earth lie, no one but God know,
eth. No marble rises to point out where their
ashes are gathered, or where the lover of the
good and wise can go and shed the tears of sym
pathy Who can tell where lies the tens of
thousands of Afric’s sons who perished in the
“middle passage ?” Yet that cemetery hath or
naments of which no other are the heavenly orbs
reflected in such splendor. Over no other are
so many inimitable traces, of the power of Jeho
vah. Never can I forget my days and nights as
I passed over the noblest of cemeteries, without, a
cingle human monument. — Giles,