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“’"““LITERARY
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PENFIELD, GEORGIA.
THURSDAY MORNING!-, NOV. 11, 1858.
j VEAZEY • • * EDITOR.
The Aurora is a choice monthly, pre-eminently
adapted, by the nature ot its contents, for moth
ers and daughters. Published by W. It. Gulley,
Murfreesboro’, Tenn. at $2 a-year.
The American Cotton Planter d? Soil of the South for
Kovembft has an unusually attractive table of
contents. This periodical is invaluable to plan
ters while its cheapness places it within the reach
of all- Price only $1 a-year.
Piccolorftini is singing in New York to crowded
houses, and creating almost as much excitement
as did Jenny Lind several years ago. She is
doubtless a fine singer, but the fact that she has
won a European reputation, is more the cause ot
this great enthusiasm than any appreciation of
her performance. By birth, she is a Tuscan, said
to be of a noble family, two of whom have won
the tiara. She won distinction as a vocalist in
her native country, and comes to America, her-
her recent triumphs on the boards of
Paris and JLondon.
It is said that almost every sovereign of Europe
is making large investments in this country. If
this be so, it is a significant fact, and shows that
they are artre of the insecurity of their position,
and are desirous of having some support upon
which they can fall back in case they should be
driven from their thrones. Apparently, Europe
is quiet and monarchy as firmly established as it
was a century ago; but none can tell how soon
that leaven of democracy, which has been silently
permeating the masses, will upheave the whole
and scatter their crowns and all the insignia of
royalty btefore the wild fury of revolution.
■ <<
Blackwood for October is an interesting number
of that always-interesting periodical. Bulwer’s
serial, “ What will he do with it?” is still contin
ued. “Animal Heat” is an able scientific paper,
which will well repay a perusal, as much in in
struction as in pleasure. “A Plea for Shams” is
a racy and readable article, which we notice more
at lengtlT in another column. “The Atlantic
Wedding Ring” is a lyric on the Telegraphic Ca
ble, which some may object to as claiming the
honor of that great achievement too exclusively
for England and the English. Besides, there are
Light on the Hearth,” “ The Ballad Poetry of
Scotland and Ireland,” and “ Lord Clyde’s Cam
paignjn India.” Re-published from the Edin
burg Advance Sheets, by L. Scott & Cos. New
York, at $3 a-year.
Peterson’s Magazine. —This popular Lady’s
Magazine, will be greatly improve and for 1859. It
will contain nearly 1000 pages, from 25 to 30
steel plates, and about 800 wood engravings.—
Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, author of “ Fashion and
Famine,” and Charles J. Peterson, author of
•“ Kate Aylesford,” are its editors, and write ex
clusively for it. Each will give anew novelet next
year; and they will be assisted by all the best
/female writers. “ Peterson’s Magazine” is indis
pensable to every lady. Its fashions are always
the latqit and prettiest; its steel engravings mag
nificent ; its patterns for the work-table, its house
hold receipts, &c. almost countless. The price is
but two dollars a-year, or a dollar less than mag
azines of its class. To clubs it is cheaper still,
viz: three copies for $5, or eight for $10; with a
splendid premium to the person getting up the
club. Specimens sent gratis. Address Chas. J.
Peterson, 306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
HOWEVER paradoxical it may sound there is
nothing untrue in the proposition that a man
can be his own worst enemy. We see persons
almost constantly in whom it is exemplified.
Their principles cause them greater misery, and
their actions bring upon them greater misfortunes
than the bitterest malevolence could wish. Who
does not know of such? Can you not point to
many of whom you entertained proud hopes, who
have blasted all these expectations by their own
misconduct?
There is a man who, when he first entered upon
the scene of manly action, was watched with lov
ing agxpetv by a large circle of friends and rela
tives. The road before him seemed bright and
smooth, and all predicted the progress he would
make. Blessed with a pleasing amenity of dis
position which rendered his manners popular
with all, he was welcomed in every crowd. None
deniofe his ability to attain any station to which
he might aspire, whether of wealth, power or
fame. But he flagged before he began his ascent,
fjje fell into habits of listless, good-natured indo
lence, and now, while every one calls him a no
ble, clever, kind-hearted “fellow,” they are com
pelled to pronounce him his own worst enemy.
There is a woman whom beauty has rendered
an object of admiration, and competence ought
to make happy. Malice itself can say nothing
against her good name. Kind, gentle and oblig-
ing, she leads all hearts after her in silent homage.
But alas! she has one fault—a fault not the less
to be lamented because it injures none other than
herself. She is the slave of Fashion, and in her
devotion, sacrificesher comfort,health, and finally
her life. Soon, flowers shall bloom upon her
grave, and “ self-murdered” will have been writ
ten by the recording angel.
Another man we see who is hopelessly given to
strong drink. He harms no one, (save by his ex-
even in his wildest fits of intoxication,
and when sober, he is reasonable and gentlemanly.
No one hates him, no one would inflict on him
the slightest injury ; nay, none who see him in
his sottish misery would refuse aid to lift him
from his degradation. But he goes on, heedless
of advice atul reckless of consequences, until he
ruins his body and destroys his soul. Is he not
his own worst enemy ?
It’ is an excellent thing to have friends—those
who will sympathize in ,sorrow and lend a help
ing hand in time of need. They are to be reck
oned among the greatest blessings of life. But
above all, a man should be a friend to himself.
Not in that sense which would cause him to dis
regard the interest and welfare of those around
him, selfishly pursuing his own schemes. Not in
that manner which would make him a cynic, an
—anchorite or misanthrope; but let him study his
own interest, ascertain what is for Iris advantage,
and resolutely determine not to do aught that
will produce him certain injury.
Debt.— He was in debt. If youth but knew the
fetal Misery they are entailing, on themselves the
moment they accept a pecuniary aid to which
they are not entitled, how they would start m
their career! how pale they would turn ! how they
woul and clasp their hands in agony, at
r the precipice on which they are disporting ? It
hath a small beginning, but a giant’s in growth
and strength. When we make the monster we
make our master, who haunts us at all hours, and
shakes his whip of scorpions forever in our sight.
The slave has no overseer so severe. Faustus,
when he signed the bond with blood, did not se
cure a doom more terrific.;— D'lsraeli, in Henrietta
Temple.
* k Themilitary asylum at Ilarrodsburg, Ky, has
FALSS HONOR is perhaps more productive of
mischief than false principles in any other
respect. It is impossible to calculate the amount
of woe, misery and bloodshed of which this has
been the direct and immediate cause. In too
many instances has it rendered law a nullity, jus
tice a mockery and truthfulness an idle term.
The notion which men have of honor i3 very of
ten totally irreconcilable with a high-toned mor
ality, and in the attempt to act honorable, they
become wicked.
One of the most pernicious forms of false honor
is that which induces men to believe that they
are bound to shield their associates, in whatever
they may be engaged. This idea obtains among
all classes who are congregated together and have
for each other a fellow feeling. The principle,
when not carried too far, is a good one. Those
who mingle together in a fellowship of any kind,
naturally contract a community of feeling, by
which the interest of one becomes the interest of
Whoever acts in violation of this sentiment is
branded as traitorous, and by the common con
sent of all mankind, the traitor has been pro
nounced the most despicable of all characters.
The highwayman who would inform upon his
companions, and thus assist in bringing them to
justice, would become ten fold more detestable
by this very act. Yet, if he made the betrayal
from proper motives, it would really be commen
dable. It is not to be taken for granted that, in
every instance, he is actuated by a cowardly fear,
or by a desire to gain some ignoble end. He
might repent of his course and assist in bringing
his accomplices to justice from a pure wish to
benefit society and promote the welfare of his
country. Whenever such are his principles —
and we should so believe them, whenever we can
—it is a false and unjust code of honor which
marks him with the stigma of ineffaceable shame.
This code of honor, so imperative and so exact,
ing, is chiefly beneficial to those who have little
true honor or honesty. Honest men do nothing
which they are unwilling to have exposed to light.
They have no use for secret meetings, midnight
caucuses, revelations of which would strike all
with astonishment. But circumstances frequently
bring them in contact with the vile and corrupt
as companions and daily associates. Now this
code of honor of which we are speaking shields
and protects this very class. They can perpetrate
whatever mischief or malicious villainy they may
choose, with the assurance that those who disap
prove of their course will bear a full share of the
blame without complaint or exposure. Among
men, this principle has no very strong hold.
Common honesty requires a man, when put upon
his oath, to tell the truth, though it may bring
ruin upon their dearest friends. Did men think
it dishonorable to tell the truth, the whole truth,
concerning the misdemeanors which fall under
their observations, all law would be uprooted,
and order would be an impossibility. But among
schoolboys and college students, this is the code
which has been established from time immem
orial, and which few, indeed, ever have the moral
courage to violate. One, however, can readily see
that it is entirely one-sided. The wicked are pro
tected in their wickedness, while the law-abiding
reap odium for conduct which they condemn.
It not only shields them in viciousness, but makes
them heroes. Their escapes from dectection—
which they really owe to the false honor of their
companions—are attributed by the undiscrimina
ting to remarkable shrewdness, and thus a reward
of praise—the most tempting of all baits—is of
fered for their insubordination.
The most pernicious institution which false
honor ever begot is now slowly, though surely,
passing away. Few principles have ever been
more disgraceful to humanity than that which
made duelling honorable. Originating in the
days of chivalry, when every man who laid claims
to gentility carried arms as regularly -as he wore
clothes, and the sword was the only sure protec
tor of right, it was in keeping with the times.
But that it should have survived these ages of
barbarism and have prevailed where Christianity
held sway, is indeed matter for wonder. All the
sophistry by which it is defended cannot prove it
otherwise than deliberate murder, committed un
der the most revolting circumstances. Yet, not
withstanding the principle of honor which caused
duelling was false and criminal, the most high
toned moralists and sincere Christians were una
ble to deliver themselves from its influence.
Those who could stand with unblanched cheek
before the cannon’s mouth, had not the moral
courage to refuso a challenge because they be
lieved it wrong. For the want of this courage,
many a man has fallen before the murderous wea
pon of his foe, pursuing a course which his good
sense condemned. Thus perished the gifted,
courtly Hamilton, and the chivalrous Decatur.
It is gratifying to know that this practice is dy
ing out, and will soon he an almost forgotten relic
of a barbarous age. Would that all the evils
which false notions of honor have produced would
thus pass away before the light of truth and rea
son.
SABBATH BELLS.
The following, from Doug las Jer/old’s St. James
and St. Giles, breathes a beautiful sentiment and
pathos that will command the admiration of the
reader:
“There’s something beautiful in the church
bells, don’t you think so, Jem?” asked Capstick,
in a sudden tone.
“ Beautiful and hopeful, they talk to high and
low, rich and poor, in the same voice; there’s
sound in ’em that should scare pride and mean
ness of all sorts from the heart of man ; should
make him look upon the world with kind, forgi
ving eyes ; least for a time, a holy place. Yes,
Jem, there’s a whole sermon in every sound of
the church bells, if we only have the ears to
rightly understand it. There’s a preacher in
every belfry, Jem, that cries, ‘Poor, weary, strug
gling, fighting creatures —poor human things!
take rest, be quiet. Forget your vanities, your
week-day craft, your heax*t-burnings! And you,
ye humble vessels, gilt and painted, believe the
iron tongue that tells ye that for all your gilding,
all your colo-s, ye are the same Adam’s earth,
with the beggars at your gates.’ Come away,
come, cries the cliureh bell, and learn to be hum
ble; learning that, however daubed, and stained,
and stuck about with jewels, you are but grave
clay. Come, Dives, come, and be taught all your
glory as you wear it, is not half so beautiful, in
the eyes of heaven, as the sores of uncomplaining
Lazaras! And ye poor creatures, livid and faint,
stinted and crushed with the pride and hardness
of the world, come; come, cry the bells, with the
voice of an angel! come and learn what is laid
up for ye ; and learning, take heart and walk
among the wickedness and cruelties of the world
calmly, as Daniel walked among the lions.”
Here Capstick, flushed and excited, wrought
beyond himself, suddenly paused. Jem started,
astonished, but said no words. And then Cap
stick, with firmer manner, said: “Jem, is there
a finer sight than a stream of human beings, pas
sing from a Christian church ?’’
The following lines were contributed to the
Augusta Dispatch, by some “friend of the Bache
lors.” Os course we endorse them:
I do not blame the bachelors
If they lead a single life ;
The way the girls are now brought up,
They can’t support a wile!
I do not blame the bachelors—
Their courage must be great
To think of wedding a modern Miss,
If small be his estate!
“Why are you like an annual, my darling?”
said a saucy lover, binding his arm around
Harriet’s waist. “J can’t say. Why?” “Because
you tfre handsomely bound.” “Indeed,” said
Harriet. “Why, then, am I like a law book?”
“Really, I can’t tell.” “Because lam bound in
calf”
“Sweet Memory, wafted by tliy gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours,
Blest with far greener shades, far lovelier flowers.”
SCHOOL DAYS are pronounced, by almost every
one, the happiest period of their lives. It is
then that the mind is least disturbed by anxie
ties and most free from cares, and comes nearest
a realization of that state which it ever after
vainly seeks. A short experience in the world
convinces the vast majority of mankind that its
promises were hollow and its attractions delusive.
To them, the present ever lies in shadows and
darkness. The future is gilded by the rays of
hope, the past reposes in the mellow light of
memory. How sweet is it to contemplate days
that are long since gone, and dwell upon their
pleasures! Their dark scenes are all lost as the
blackest cloud will lose its inky hue when illu
minated by the rays of the sun.
The man of middle life and the aged sire refer,
with many a fond recollection and regret, to the
days when, with a trembling anxiety about his
ill-prepared lesson, he moved along more than
half-reluctantly to school The birds gaily hop
ped from branch to branch, merrily singing, and
he paused to listen to their melody. The flowers
bloomed beautifully all along his pathway, arid
he stooped to admire their delicate coloring and
inhale their fragrance. Then, as a thought of
the frown which the potentate of the school-room
visited upon all laggards, crossed his mind, he
quickened his pace, lest he might incur that
dreaded penalty. llcw pleasant were those mirth
ful glances cast over the house when that ruling
eye was turned away—how intensely was that
suppressed laughter enjoyed. What a blessing
is it to the poor little fellows who are tired out
with counting up figures on their slates, or look
ing out questions on their maps, or puzzling their
brains about the parts of speech, that the wielder
of the birch has not the power, as well as the will,
to see everything. Then there are the girls—
quiet, easy souls, for they are never mischievous,
romping tomboys, where they have boys scruti
nizing their behavior—looking very steadily at
their books, but thinking all the time of the fruit
and bon-bons which their little sweethearts have
brought them. Ah !heis to be pitied who has
not treasured up in his memory the recollections
of a mixed school. There is a film of love-wrought
poetry hanging around the first idol that won the
youthful fancy and brought every power of the
soul bowing at her shrine, which no second ever
possesses. She is invested with every charm
which the delicious ignorance of an untutored
imagination can conceive. None can ever again
present herself so perfect in his eye. The light
ness of her step, the sparkle of her eye, the music
of her voice and the sweet amenities of her soul,
remain forever in his memory, unsurpassed and
unsurpassable.
But the hours of morning have sped away, the
welcome noon has arrived, and “ school is dis
missed.” Ah! the delights of that “ play-time,”
with its hundred varied forms of amusement.
There are the exciting games of “ bullpen” and
“ townball” which, during the wintry days, stir
the chill blood into a healthy flow\ As summer
comes on, these must be abandoned, but cool
shades invite to more quiet diversions. One
crowd amuse themselves with marbles, another
sitting beneath the trees speed on the moments
with jokes and laughter, while, perhaps, a third
crowd of urchins have made an inroad on the
orhard or melon patch of some neighboring far
mer. Happy days are these—thrice happy in
their freedom from all responsibility and care.
Yet, the schoolby is not without his troubles.
He has his woes, and, to his imagination, they
appear mountainous in their magnitude. The
rule to which he is subjected seems cruel tyran
ny, and he longs for the time when others will
acknowledge him to be what he thinks himself
already—a man. He is eager to leave the state
of pupilage, and enter upon that world of which
he has only caught a glance, and that dimmed
by the halo which a youthful fancy always weaves.
Too often the field of science and garden of lit
erature which figure so nicely in his compositions,
are really to him a ledge of rocks or a sandy waste.
He thinks the pathway of knowledge “a hard
road to travel,” and anxiously anticipates the
time when, freed from all restraint, he can act
as he may list. He learns too late that this is the
happiest period of his life, and that all after ex
perience is but bitterness and vexation of spirit.
THE BIJNTAK TABLEAUX.
“ Ingenious Dreamer, in whose well-told tale,
Sweet fiction and sweet Truth alike prevail.”
We have recently enjoyed the pleasure of revi
ving in our memory those picture scenes drawn
by the pen of the immortal Bunyan, by means of
the well conceived, skillfully executed and highly
interesting tableau, now being exhibited at the
Melodeon. What child ever read the Pilgrim’s
Progress, but with emotions of delight and wake
ful interest in its allegorical representations from
the beginning to the end ? What Christian mind
ever followed the Dreamer through that varied
pilgrimage, without informing his intellect and
improving his heart? It is one of those produc
iions of genius which, like Old Hundred, will hold
a place in the Christian heart till the last notes
of time fall upon the hearing of a departing world.
It was, therefore, a noble thought which origi
nated the panorama of this unrivalled allegory.
For it enables the Christian, in the space of an
hour and a half, to revive and review those inter
esting scenes on which, in bygone years, he has
dwelt with surpassing interest. It delights the
mind of childhood to recognize the life-scenes
upon the canvass which have been presented to
its imagination, and it charms the lovers of art,
by bringing before tLem, in this admirable, artis
tic manner, the conceptions of other minds, to be
compared with the conceptions which themselves
formed as they travelled through the Pilgrimage
of the Dreamer.
The first scene is “ Bunyan the Dreamer,” and
we are bold to say that if this were the only pic
ture exhibited upon the canvass, to the spectator
of the Melodeon, it would well reward him for his
ticket. That cave or “ den” is exquisitely con
ceived and beautifully executed ; and there lies
Bunyan himself, and you gaze upon him resting
quietly asleep, and knowing the rapidity of drear
ming, you can easily imagine that his entire dream,
with all its varied and instructive scenery is ac
complished while he lies before you. It is a noble
introduction, and you almost fear that like the
good wine, it is brought forth first, and that the
poorer is to follow; but the expectations which it
naturally awakens, are well sustained through the
entire pilgrimage, from “Meditations in the
field” to the “Land of Beulah” and the “Celes
tial City.”
HINDOO WOMEN.
Never enjoying even famale society, their lives
are passed in the extreme of listlessness. It is
this which produces so many instances of women
burning themselves. The husband’s death is a
revolution in their existence, which gives an open
ing for the mind’s bursting out of the ordinary
track of depression. They have a confused notion
that the hour is the only one which can occur to
them for distinction. As is the case with all
spirits that have long been held in restraint, the
momentary emancipation is carried to extrava
gance. Working themselves up to frenzy they
pledge themselves to they know not what. Once
they declare their intention to burn themselves,
which is done in the first instant of bewilderment
produced by the husband’s death, no retreat is
allowed. The forecasting policy of the Brahmins
has made the disgrace of the woman’s faltering
fall, not on the individual alone, but on all her
relations, so that the whole of her family will force
her to perseverance. Then the Brahmins intox
icate her with representations as well as with
drugs. In this hot climate the funeral of the de
funct must so soon take place that there is no
time for reflection. The interest of the Brah
mins in this, if/that it is a triumph over reason.
Subjugation of the mind, that they may reign oyer
the bodies of the multitude, is the unremitting
object of that worthless and successful caste.—
Private Journal of the Marquess of Hastings.
INK DROPS.
“Go, wing thy flight frm star to star, - .
From world to luminous world, as far
As the universe stretches its flaming wall.”
THE stars shine. Night has clothed the earth
in her garment of blackness, and spread
over the sky a veil winch, in its splendid beauty,
far excels the royal robes,
“Where the gorgeous East, with richest hand,
Showers on her kings barbaric peats and gold.”
In the West, Hesperus rides brightest of all the
Stellar host, followed by Mars, with dull, heavy
ray, while in the Eeast the Pleiades rise in the
glory of an indissoluble brotherhood. The whole
firmament glows with glittering magnificence.
Not even when the Queen of Night rolls in a daz
zling effulgence that rivals the day, do the Hea
vens present a more interesting study. There are
planets and constellations in unobscored splen
dor bestudding an unclouded sky, and attracting
every eye to contemplate their wonders.
Who can gaze upon them thus without feeling
his soul swell within him beyond all utterance
and all thought ? Thslre they twinkle now,” and
there they have twinkled uuohanged, while count
less ages have circled away. Before the world
they were, and when this*system dropped from
the molding fingers of God, a pealing anthem
rang through all their spheres. Their soft, lam
bent light rested on the fair flowers of Paradise
when Adam first trod the soil of earth, and met
the companion of his joys, the precursor of his
fall, while they looked kindly down. For forty
days were they veiled from mortal gaze, when
Heaven lifted up the waters from the vasty deep
and deluged them on the degenerate and sinful
race. When the dark clouds rolled away, they
were there still shining in a beauty that mirroied
itself in the subsiding flood. They held their
sentinel watches on the azure vault when Babel’s
king caroused in drunken festivity, and the mys
terious chirograph on the the wall announced his
coming doom. They rose and set at their ap
pointed times while Ninevah, Memphis, Thebes
and hundreds of other cities rose in their gran
deur and fell in decay. They shone with unwon
ted brilliance while one of their number an
nounced the Saviour’s birth, and hung in glory
over the spot of his nativity. Thus, while armies
have fought, navies traversed the seas, empires
flourished and decayed, have they held their pla
ces in the nightly arch, the admiration of the
ignorant wonder of the learned.
“Ye stars, which are the poetry of Heaven,”
what are ye, and what the purpose of your crea
tion? For ages has science sought an answer to
this query, and sought in vain. Their beams
bring us no message of their nature and essence.
Still, the question is anxiously propounded. Are
they mere masses of inchoate matter, wandering
darkly through eternal space? Are they, as the
skeptic would have us believe, “ lumps which
have flown from the potter’s wheel of the Great
Worker; the sparks which darted from Ilis an
vil when the solar system lay incandescent there :
on; the curls of vapor which arose from the great
caldron of creation when its elements were sepa
rated?” Or are they inhabited worlds, filled with
life and beauty, the abodes of intellect and scenes
of moral grandeur ? Was it, or was it not, a dream
of the poet, when he
“ Saw their altars smoke, theirincense rise,
And heard hosannas ring through every sphere?”
These are queries to which science can yield no
response. The Christian may hope, the philoso
pher speculate, but the upturned thoughts can
find no spot of certainty on which to rest. This
is a realm to which
“ The fruit
Os that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,”
has not yet givea us an entrance, perhaps never
will. For ages yet to come shall men gaze upon
the star-lit canopy with a curiosity unflagging
though unsatisfied.
Roll, ye stars, in your mysterious sublimity, and
deck the nightly firmament with your brightness.
Still baffle the philosopher, and let your arcana
be impenetrable to his telescopic vision. But
the time is coming when you must and shall be
known. When the soul shall “shuffle off this
mortal coil,” and expand all its powers in the
presence of its God, the farthest star shall be re
vealed and its history read.
HOUSE PLANTS FOB WINTER.
Those who love the cheerful look of flowers in
mid winter, may have them without conservato
ries, with a little labor, patience and perseverance.
All that beautiful Dutch family of bulbs, including
the Hyacinth, Tulip, Jonquille, Narcissus, Polly
anthus and Crocus, will bloom as freely in the
house as in the garden. Most of these bulbs
bloom freely in winter. The Hyacinth presents
a beautiful appearance, growing and blooming in
moss. Take the common green moss of our
swamps and pack a box or pot with it, insert the
bulbs,of the Hyacinth, just covering the top.—
Keep the moss constantly moist, and it will pre
serve its green color, giving a fine effect to the
blooming Hyacinth. Another very singular and
beautiful method of blooming the Hyacinth in
the house in winter, is to take a large turnip, cut
the leaves off, without cutting the top too close.
Now excavate a hole in the bottom of the turnip,
large enough to receive about one half of the bulb
of the Hyacinth, scoop out the inside so as to
form a vase. Now tie proper strings or ribbon
around the turnip to suspend it like a hanging
vase, fill the turnip with Water, and place one of
the early blooming Hyacinth* on the hole. It
will soon begin to throw out its roots. Keep the
turnips supplied with freshwater, and by the time
the Hyacinth has begun to show its flower stem,
the bright green top of the turnip will begin to
curve upwards around the bulb, so that by the
time the Hyacinth is in bloom the foliage of the
turnip will entirely hide the bulb, presenting the
unique and beautiful appearance of a living flower
vase. We have seen many costly vases not half
so beautiful. There are some of the ever-bloom
ing roses that make fine house plants. Salvias,
Petunias and Vebrenas, make a beautiful show in
the house, if taken up with care before being frost
bitten. The soil for house plants should be good
leaf mould, which is simply the surface soil of the
woods. Plants in houses should not be kept too
warm, but should be placed in the open air during
all the mild weather of winter. Nor should they
be allowed to freeze.— American Cotton Planter.
Tue Good Wife who found “Good in Every
thing.”—A farmer was once blessed with a good
natured, contended wife : but it not being in the
nature of men to be satisfied, he one day said to
a neighbor, he really wished he could hear his
wife scold once, for the novelty of the thing. —
Whereupon, his sympathising neighbor advised
him to go to the woods and get a load’of crooked
sticks, which would certainly make her as cross
as he could desire. Accordingly, the farmer col
lected a load of the most ill-shaped, crooked,
crotchety materials that were ever known under
the name of fuel. This he deposited in its place,
taking care that his spouse should have access to
no other wood. Day after day passed without a
complaint. At length the pile was consumed.
“ Well, wife,” said the farmer, “ I am going after
more wood ; I’ll get another load just such as 1
got the last time.”
“Oh, yes, Jacob,” she replied, “it will bo so
nice if you will; for such crooked, crochety wood
as you brought before does lie around the pot so
nicely.”
In the reign of Elizabeth, the fashion of enor
mous breeches was pushed to a most laughable
extent. The beaux of that day stuffed out their
breeches with rags, feathers and other light mat
ters, till they brought them out to an enormous
size. They resembled wool-sacks, and, in a pub
lic spectacle, they were obliged to raise scaffolds
for tne seats of these ponderous beaux. To accord
with this fantastic taste, the ladies invented large
hoop farthingales. — D’Israeli’s Curiosities of Literu
, One Os our western editors, speaking of a large
and fat cotemporarv, remarked that if all flesh is
as grass, he must be a load of hay.
“I suspect I am,” said the fat man, “from the
way the mt* are nibbing at me.”
Satires upon the shallowness of society, its es
tablished conventionalities in manners, customs
and dress, have become the most frequent, if not
the most popular forms of literature. Everything
must Tbe satirized in these days, things most
sacred not escaping. The strain may have been
grateful at first, even to those who took no de
light in contemplating the dark side of human
nature. But it has grown monotonous, and must
be changed. A correspondent of Blackwood has
made a move of this kind, in “ A Plea for Shams,”
in which he says some good things. He thus
speaks of the onslaughts made by some modern
writers on the conventionalities of Dress and Po
liteness :
We are to go back, this school of writers tells
us, to “nature and her veracities.” Fine lan
guage ; prave ’orts;” but, put into sober, work
a-day English, whatdoesitall mean? How much
about us is veracity, and how much conventional
usage ? Is the model man of regenerated society
to make his appearance in public as nature made
him—a biped without feathers ? Is he to repu
diate dress as a conventionality? If the bishop’s
apron, and “ wig and black triangle,” and the
judges “horse-hair and scarlet/’ and the poor
beadle s laced hat, are shams, in what consists the
comparative truth and honesty of a wide-awake
or a glengarry ? Why is a man more virtuous in
a tweed wrap-rascal than in a court uniform ? Do
oui modern realists allow the ladies of their fam
llies to indulge in crinoline? Docs Mr. Carlyle
hold tobacco to be a “ yeracity ?” Does Mr Albert
Smith wear a ring on his finger? Wh/? for what
possible purpose ? Or, if a ring on his fingers, why
not also hells on his toes ? Barring the conven
tional custom, one is as much in its place as the
other; nay, why not the ring in his nose or in liis
ear ? ihere is undeniable authority for both
practices. One glaring conventionality which we
are charged with, and which it is considered an
especial duty to hear a testimony against, is the
practice of shaving the beard. Nature vave us
this noble ornament, we are told; smooth chins
are an abomination, introduced by an effeminate
king 1 azors an invention of man’s great enemy.
But do these hirsute philosophers ever pare their
nails ? because, plainly, such a habit is quite a
modern innovation—a mere conventional absur
dity. The original “homo” never pared his nails:
W nen wild in woods the noble savage ran.”
his nails were made to dig him roots, and for
other useful purposes—and probably to fight.
Good Dr. Watts was mistaken ; children’s “little
hands,” at any rate their little nails, were “made
to tear each other’s eyes,” and would still, only
that we barbarously cut them short. Our com
monest and most innocent habits, measured by
these gentlemen’s standard, will be found ex
ceedingly unveracious. Are we all to walk about
as in a palace of truth, and repudiate all the rec
ognised courtes’sofsociety because they are shams?
Am I to say to my good old neighbor, Mr. Tom
kins, whenever I meet him, “ Tomkins, you are
a bore, and you ought to know it; I can’t waste
my precious lime talking to you about the weath
er, or even about Mrs. Tomkins; I have more
important subjects than these to talk about, and
more agreeable people to talk to: so I wish you
a very good morning; or rather, I mean to say,
I don’t care whether you have a good morning or
a bad one. I don’t wish you any harm, but I
want to get rid of you !’ ? Or when I meet Smith
at the Folkestone station on his autumn trip—
he in liis nautical costume and Mrs. S. in her
round hat—am I to accost them in the sincere
language of my heart—“ Well, for two sensible
middle-aged people, you have contrived to make
the greatest guys of yourselves I ever saw in my
life!” lam sure this would be a veracity; but
would it be an improvement, on the whole, on
the conventional type of our actual conversation
under the circumstances? “Good morning, Mr.
Tomkins; I hope I see you well; these easterly
winds,” &c. &c. “ How are you, Smith ? fond of
boating as ever, I see; and Mrs. Smith looking
really quiet,” &c. sc. It’s a sham : I know it is;
perhaps she knows it is; but if she does, she
knows it to be a friendly one. Were I to go
back to my veracities, I might prefer, being in
company with a fastidious friend, to cut the
Smiths altogether. The truth is, we live in a
world of shams ftnd conventionalities, if you pre
fer calling things by ugly names. All civilized
life is a state of convention. Language itself is
all convention: ask the logicians. There is no
reason, in the intrinsic nature of things, why hat
should spell “ hat.” All forms of salutation are
pure conventionalities. Why do we shake hands?
What ceremony can be more absurd? The Pa
cific Islanders rub noses; so do sheep. Os the
two, therefore, the latter may be the more natu
ral. Dr. Livingstone’s friends, the Bakolos, by
way of paying their best respects, lay down upon
the ground, and clapped their thighs with their
hands loudly and energetically. Unpleasant, Dr.
Livingstone thought it, and so, perhaps, should
we; but you see nature seems to indicate no uni
versal forms of politeness: the forms which do
suggest themselves to others seem to us as un
meaning or ungraceful as ours may to them. No
wise n. an among us laughs at his British ances
tors for painting themselves blue; is it a mark of
such superior wisdom to ridicule the outer coat
ing of society in this ninett enth century?
Your perpetual earnest people, who never say
anything but what they mean, seem always brim
ful of unpleasant truths and ill-natured opinions.
What they call plain-speaking is more than plain;
it is positively ugly-speaking ; and in nineteen
cases out of twenty, does more harm than good.
We all speak our minds plainly enough as it is
for the peace of society; perhaps in some cases
rather too much so. Indeed, if a little more of
that reticence and smooth language which we
call conventional politeness were used in our
home life, many a household would be all the
happier for it. If husbands and wives preserved
more of those “ formulas” towards each other
which they adopt in their intercourse with soci
ety, they would be not greater hypocrites, and
fhr more agreeable companions. If our young
ladies carried a little more of their drawing-room
manners into the family circle, it would be a grea
ter improvement than the contrary process of
introducing the free-and-easy realties of temper
and selfishness into company. If company man
ners are unpleasant, it is because we feel they
are company manners, and know that the smile
and the kind word are not equally ready for home
occasions.
True Eloquence. —Eloquence is the child of
knowledge. When a mind is lull, like a whole
some river, it is also clear. Confusion and ob
scurity are much oftener the results of ignorance
than of inefficiency. Few are the men who can
not express their meaning, when the occasion de
mands the energy; as the lowest will defend their
lives with acuteness, and sometimes even with
eloquence. They are masters of their subject.
Knowledge must be gained by ourselves. Man
kind may supply us with facts; but the results,
even if they agree with previous ones, must be
the work of our own mind. To make others feel,
we must feel ourselves ; and to feel ourselves, we
must be natural — 3’lsraeli.
—
A country girl riding past a turnpike-gate with
out paying the usual fee, the toll-man hailing her
demanded it. She asked him by what authority
he demanded her. He answered: “the sign
would convince her that the law required three
pence for a man and horse.” “Well,” replied the
girl, “this is a woman and a mare, therefore you
have no claimshe rode off, leaving him the
laughing stock of the by-standers.
A Farmer who had employed a green Emeral
der, ordered him to give his mulo some corn in
the year. On his coming in the farmer asked :
“Well, Fat, did you give the corn?” “To be
sure I did.” “How did you give it ?” “And sure
as yez told, in the ear !” “But how much did you
sxive?” “Well, yez, see, the craythur wouldn’t
houlcl still, and switched his ears about so, I
couldn’t git above a fistful in both ears.”
The husband of a pious woman having recently
occasion to make a voyage, his wife sent a written
request to the clergyman of the parish, which,
instead of and pointing properly, viz:
“A person having gone to sea, his wife desires
the prayeres of the congregation,” she spelled
and pointed as follows: “A person having gone
to see his wife, desires the prayers of the congrega
tion.”
A gentleman in England who had been in the
habit of giving a daily penny to a beggar at a
turnpike gate, was recently called to the death
bed of the mendicant to assist him in making his
will. Conceive the astonishment of the gentle
man when he found that the subject of his bounty
had transferred to him fftecn hundred pounds !
In lowa, the other day, a brute of a man
kicked his wife. The indignant neighbors assem
bled and made a jaeliftss ki?k him.
’ LITTLE MATC.
BY THOMAS BAIT.BY AT.DSICE.
O where is our dainty, oar darling,
The daintiest darling of all t
O where is the voice on ths stair way,
O where it the voice ii the hall ?
The little short step# in ths entry,
The silvery laugh in the hall;
O where is our daintiest darling of nllf
Little Maud !
The peaches are ripe in the garden, *
The apricots ready to fall;
The blue grapes are dripping their honey
In sunshine upon the white wall;
O where are the lips, full end melting,
That looked np so pouting and red,
When we dangled the sun-purpled bunchet
Os Isabels over her head ? -
0 Maud! little Maud ! say, where are yous
(She never replies to our call!)
O where is our dainty, our darling,
The daintiest darling of all?
Little Maud!
THE WOBLD’S PILGRIM
1 told my heart it must not love,
I chained it with the chain of pride,
I said the rover should not rove,
It heard and sighed.
I said I would a wanderer be,
Yet not where sandalled pilgrims roam.
I o mount and sane beyound the sea,
Far, far from home.
Affection’s silken banner furled,
I said my pilgrim steps should turn
On, towards the many-mazed world,
And ne’er return.
And I am in the world I sought,
But not with hope or peace my guide,
Gh, better ere it* love I bought,
That I had died.
I feel an ice-chill in the crowd,
I hear a dirge in music’s tone —
And heartless farewells spoken loud
Change me to stone.
How gladly would I break the chain
Coiled round me like a serpent cold !
But Prophet voices cry—“in vain,
Thy strength is sold 1”
So sail I o’er a turbid wave,
So sleep I on a flowerless brink,
And oft from visions of the grave
In terror shrink.
Ihe best way to curb a wild young man is to
bridal him.
i he wheat crop of Canada for 1858 is said to b#
twenty-five per cent, below the average.
i he Chief ot the Police in Cincinnati bears tha
singularly inappropriate name of Ruffin.
A wise Frenchman remarks that we may count
that day lost which we have passed without fs
laugh.
A ch air has been made for the Governor of
Vermont, from the timbers of the old C)i£iU*{ien
frigate.
Gov. Moore, of Alabama, has appointed Thurs
day, 25th November, as a day of Thanksgiving iu
that State.
A traveller writing home from the ooc*t of Af
rica, says: “The people die very fast, and the
sheep have very long tails.”
It is said that a majority of the recently elected
Legislature of Indiana are in favor of a repeal of
the divorce law of that State.
The latter part of a wise man’s life is token up
in curing the follies, prejudices, and fair® opin
ions he has_contracted in the former.
John S. Walker. Esq. for many years Post-mas
ter atjMadison, Georgia, of which place he was an
old and highly respected citizen, died on the 14th
instant.
The cork tree is being extensively cultivated
in the neighborhood of Cincinnati. Ten thou
sand cans of the acorns have been ordered for
planting.
The costume of the Spanish ladies hae not
changed for two hundred years. They actually
wear the same style of dress as their great grand
mothers did.
A man in South Windsor, Connecticut, has
been presented with five children within a year.
Two were born, October 25,1857, and three Octo
ber 13th, 1858.
The Mayor of Portsmouth, Va. has taken meas
ures for the arrest of every person, without re
gard to rank or condition, found swearing on tho
public streets.
figy*“What did you give for that horse, neigh
bor?”
“My note.”
“Welljtfhat was cheap enough.”
“I can’t see how you can sit and eat, while
your wife is so sick.”
“Why, my dear fellow, it is not that 1 love my
wife less, but that I love pancakes more/”
Once admit the existence of God, and the immortal
ity of the soul, and the doctrine of rewards and pun
ishments in another life inevitably follows, as an un
avoidable and strictly logical conclusion.
The Grand Jury of Staunton county, Va., ra*
cently indicted a postmaster for opening letter*
in his office. He nad taken no money, but p<-
p eared to be instigated by mere curiosity.
The Journal des Debats states that the specie in
the banks of Europe exceeds £160,000,000 sterl
ing, more than one-fourth of which is held by the
Bank of France and the Bank of England.
William Pitt, when he came to die, said, “l
fear, that like many others, I neglected my reli
gious duties too much to have any ground to hope
that they can be efficacious on my death-bed.”
The Freeman's Journal contradicts the state
ment, now making the rounds of the papers, that
the Pope has forbidden, on penalty of excommuni
cation, the use of the name of Mary for children^
In the Supreme Court of Boston, on Saturday
last, Judge Bigelow issued decrees of divorce on
fourteen cases. Nine wives w ere divorced from
their husbands, and five husbands from their
wives.
Near the close of his life, Patrick Henry laid
his hand on the Bible, and said to a friend,
“Here is a book worth more than all others,
is my misfortune never to have read it with prop
er attention until lately.”
The “Reveries of a Bachelor,” new series, edi
ted by James Buchanan, it is humorously inti
mated, are to be published in serial form by
Wendell & Cos. of Washington city, through ths
columns of the official paper.
The Insane Asylum at Washington, is now
about two-thirds built. When completed, (and
the foundation is now digging out for the remaifl
ing third part,) it will be a longer building by
some sixteen feet, than the Capitol itself in its
finished state.
The old vine-growers of France recollect that
tho comet of 1811 was followed by an excellent
vintage; and the comet of 1858 has brought about,
they say, a similar result. It is now reported
that a comet would be welcomed every year in
the wine districts.
A letter from Geauga County, Ohio, states that
an epidemic dysentery has raged among youitg
children in that section, ravaging every homv
and proving generally fatal. In the town of
Chester, it is stated, but few infants have been
spared by the pestilence.
The New York Sun says that, a few days since,
the Sheriff sold out the effects otH merchant wkto
has been ruined by the purchase of lotttery tick
ets. lie bought for years, but never gained a
prize until a few weeks ago, and the lottery TtKn
refused to pay the only hit he made.
An enormous bed of iron oi*a has been recently
discovered in Missouri, about thirty miles frdm
Ironton, on a raiige of hills dividing the waters
of the Castor and Big St. Francis. The St. Looia
Democrat compares it with the rich deposits at
the Iron Mountain and Pilot Knob.
Rev. Caswell Drake of North Carolina,has sailed,
for Europe, to establish his claim as a dfacenda-ifc
and heir of the famous Sir Francis Drake, tho
great admiral and navigator, who was appointed
and knighted Queen Elizabeth. Mr.
expects to succeed in making good his claim to
the immense property belonging to the Drkc
estate, which now, likfi the Jenning’s <**<*"§
.to ftwit of * n heir.