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“’"““LITERARY Spppmp dfntsadip*. j 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.