Newspaper Page Text
L. LINCOLN VEAZEY, EDITOR.
Friday Morning, March X 1,1859.
Blackwood's Magazine
For February has been received. Itopens
with a lengthy review of Carlyle’s Frederic
the Great, under the not appropriate title of
“Mirage Philosophy.” Then follows a piq
uantlv lively description of “ How we went
to Skye,” “Objectionable Books,” “Popular
Literature,” and “Rawlinson’s Herodotus,”
are all ably written and very readable pa
pers. “Falsely Accused” is an instructive
historical record, of deep interest. “Meph
itis and the Antidote,” and “A Cruise in
the Japanese Waters” close up a number
which is not surpassed by any previous issue
of that always able monthly. Re-published
by L. Scott & Cos. New York, at $3 a-year.
Bachelor's Convention.
The “ Progressive Bachelors” of the State
of Delaware held a convention on the 26th
ult. which was attended by about sixty del
egates. “ After an able address from A. R.
Wooten, Esq. resolutions were adopted to
the effect that the institution of marriage
is of divine origin and of national interest,
but that the extravagance of the times is a
serious obstacle to an entrance into the mar.
riage relation. Alliances formed for pecu
niary advancement, or with ideas of aristo
cratic family antiquity, were declared to be
destructive of the finer feelings and affec
tions which make the happy home, and ul
tra fashions and cold formalities hindrances
to the development of real worth. Modern
‘ women’s rights’ and ‘ fast young men’
are condemned, and a radical reform in the
present social system—which engenders ex
travagance and indolence—is proclaimed to
be all-important.”
After the adjournment, the convention
sat down to a sumptuous banquet, on which
occasion, among many others, toasts were
drank to “Jamesßuchanan,” “the Ladies”
and “ the Bachelor’s Choice.”
It would be a great improvement on the
present state of things, if the anonymous
character of the British press could obtain
on this side of the Atlantic. There, the
newspaper is looked upon as something
having an existence and power of its own,
and few think of the men by whom it is
managed. Here, the journal and its editor
are identical, the man-often being the bet
ter known. Discussions between any two,
instead of being gladiatorial combats of
opinions and principles, are scurrilous tirades
of personal abuse. The private characters
of the individuals are exposed and extrane
ous matters of wnich the public ought not
to know or care any thing about, are offered
as food for the scandal-loving, which is al
ways too readily devoured. Such a course
degrades the character of the press and crip
ples its influence. It is no longer a cham
pion of truth and a lever of social elevation,
but becomes a vehicle for all the filth and
corruption which moral scavengers can col
lect.
Zeal.
Among the qualities which fit man to be
a working animal, none are more important
or productive of greater results than zeal.
Combining in its nature the qualities of en
ergy and patience, it at once prompts and
acts, thereby rendering success almost a cer
tainty. It is essential to the vitality and
force of action ; for where it is wanting,
man moves like an automaton at the will
of another, or by the compulsion of neces
sity. When it impels him, no obstacle can
successfully oppose his course, no dangers
frighten or difficulties deter. His progress
may not be rapid, but it will be sure. A
strong faith will support him, but it will be
a faith that relies upon means and labor for
the accomplishment of its objects.
Enthusiasm and zeal differ less in kind
than in degree, the former being but a
higher form of the latter. They both denote
a strong, earnest desire to accomplish a cer
tain purpose. But zeal is calculating and
judicious; enthusiasm wild and exciting.
The zealot will, if necessary, become a mar
tyr, but never a fanatic ; the enthusiast may
at any time be hurried by his feelings into
the maddest extremes. Zeal is necessary
for a missionary or reformer; enthusiam
would probably render him a revolutionist.
Zeal in a cause is not always indicative of
sincerity. That high-wrought enthusiasm
which impels people to act and suffer, is of
ten produced by other influences than a con
viction of the justice of their cause or the
truth of their principles. Some are too
proud to acknowledge an error into which
they may have fallen, even though quite in
advertently done. Others have a morbid
appetite for notoriety, and find no means
for its obtainment so practicable as a depar
ture from the track of ordinary mortals.
Others, still, are driven by opposition to ad
here to tenets, and persist in the course
which they enjoin, when their reason con
vinces them of their absurdity. Amid all
these influences, many men become zealous
who are far from being conscientious.
Yet, we commonly give the enthusiast the
credit of being sincere, and offer this as an
extenuation for the many follies and errors
into which he may be led. But while
charity demands that we should not be for
ward to condemn, justice requires us not to
be too ready to apologize. It is not a suffi
cient excuse for the crimes which an over
heated zeal may cause a man to commit,
that he was sincere. He should be careful
to examine the moral character of the prin
ciples by which he is actuated, and if he
does this, he will not be driven forward by
a force which he can not control. He will
manifest a zeal tempered by judgment, an
’ enthusiasm guided by deliberate reason,
and under the influence of these, his actions
will rarely be wrong. Thus controlled, zeal
may lose some of its impulsive power, but
ts energetic vigor will remain unweakened.
It will act more slowly, but less erringly.
It will become a high and holy influence,
drawing man from what he should not do,
and continually urging him on to his true
destiny.
The zeal of proselytes is so intense and
withal so imprudent, as to have become pro
„_verbial. He who leaves one party and joins
another, cannot advocate too strongly the
cause of his allies. The soldier who deserts
to the foe, fights with a daring desperation,
and willingly places himself in the forlorn
hope in every attack. Arnold, after his
treachery, became the most cruel and unre
lenting foe of the colonies, going beyond all
in his zeal to do them injury; and at this
day, when sectional animosities are so rife in
all our land, none are so bitter and ultra as
those who have moved from one section to
the other. A desire to escape the imputa
tion of unsoundftess has, undoubtedly, much
to do with this; but there are too other
causes which, if the individual recognizes,
he can not control. It is in accordance
with a law of our being, whioh we seldom
have tj|e desire, and never the power to
rend©r% therwise.
, Conversation.
The power of talking is one of the great
est blessings of human existence, and for
no organ have we more cause to feel grate
ful to Providence than for our tongues.
Asa matter of utility, they constitute the
agency by which the vast machinery of the
world is kept in motion. If all men were
suddenly transformed into mutes, it might
now.be possible for them to transact busi
ness through the medium of written lan
guage ; but had they been so from the first,
they would have been very little, if any, ele
vated above the brute creation. This fac
ulty is indispensably requisite for the devel
opment of the power of reason with which
they are endowed.
When we speak of conversation, however,
we refer to that interchange of thought
which constitutes social intercourse. This
definition excludes the exercises of the
higher powers of speech, and treats merely
of the every day affairs of common talk.
But this is far frem being an unimportant
subject. Conversation is a science—one
very little cultivated, indeed; but if pro
perly cultivated, would richly reward the
labor. It would seem to receive a vast deal
of attention, when social gatherings are so
frequent, and attended by so much eclat.
But were a philosopher to be at one of
these, he would define conversation, as
there practiced, to be the art of saying fool
ish things about nothing. Thus the culture
which it there receives, is far worse than
useless. It vitiates the taste, perverts the
judgment and converts high-toned senti
ments into the merest flippancy.
Reading and conversation arp the only
means at our command for the promotion
of intellectual advancement. To estimate
their comparative influence would be a dif
ficult task, because, in practice, they are
seldom brought in contrast, and never in op
position. It is, however, possible for one to
be thoroughly versed in science and litera
ture, while he is entirely wanting in the
ability to express himself in conversation
with elegance or fluency. Thus Goldsmith,
who, in writing, approached nearer than
any other author to the style of simple con
versation, sank into insignificance before
the colloquial powers of Johnson. Asa
general rule, those whose minds have be
come habituated to profound study, grad
ually lose or never acquire the power of easy
and ready expression. Hence it is that men
of vast intellectual attainments often add
very little to the social enjoyment of a com
pany.
Conversation is something which can not
be learned by rule, and he who attempts it
in this manner, will certainly fail. True,
many appeal to the precepts of social mag
nates, and rely upon their dicta as infalli
ble guides. But their directions in this, as
in every other particular, are more calcula
ted to make fashionable exquisites, than ac
complished gentlemen or ladies. Every
one must, to a great extent, rely upon his
own taste and sense of propriety. Where
these are wanting, no amount of study will
ever render him a good converser. If he
should attempt to learn conversation by
rule, he may acquire a formal and stiff pre
cision, but never a graceful ease. If he has
good sense, he will be avoided as a pedantic
bore ; if not, he will be despised as a vapid
swell.
In the ordinary social intercourse between
young men and ladies, there is too much of
the idle chit-chat, which improves neither
the mind nor the heart. The idea has be
come very prevalent among young men, that
only such conversation can please the ladies,
and of course every one who aspires to the
rank of “ a lady’s man,” will adopt this no
tion in his practice. Whether it be correct
or not, we can not say. If it be true, the
fact is humiliating; if false, the ladies are
certainly very patient to endure such a gross
insult to their under standing. To be com
pelled, for hour after hour, to keep up a
discourse of small talk into which not one
homeopathic fragment of sense ever finds
its way, is enough
“ To stir a fever in the blood of age,
Or make the infant sinews strong as steel.”
But, though conversation cannot be learn
ed by rule or measured by square and com
pass, it is, nevertheless, susceptible of much
improvement. Cultivate your intellect by
reading and study, and your thoughts will
flow forth without restraint, though they
may not always be clothed in the glaring
robe of eloquence. Cherish a refinement
of language in familiar intercourse with
your most intimate friends. This habit will
throw around your ideas a gaib of purity,
whenever you speak. Above all, cultivate
your heart; seek to elevate its sentiments
and affections, for thence come the highest
attributes of conversation.
Bo so, -without Fail.
You have heard a bad report. Someone
has whispered in your ear, under the strong
est injunctions of secrecy, some tale of scan
dal about Mr., Mrs. or Miss . Has
ten to spread it throughout the whole range
of your acquaintance. Do not let the grass
grow under your feet, until you have carried
these reports to their unfortunate object,
and retailed them out in all their disagree
able details. Is not the person your friend,
and is not this one of the first duties of
friendship? Never flinch, though you see
the deep, painful blush suffuse the face, and
tears starting from the eyes. You know
the operation is painful, but then you must
perform your duty. You can not allow
your friend to be thus vilely slandered with
out letting it be known. It might seem
that you are performing the most pitiless
part of all; but let no such thought deter
you from the task. It is very aad that “ they”
will talk so ; yet, how much more wretched
would it be for each one to pass along to
tally ignorant of the many unpleasant things
that “they” are saying. Why, if you did
not tell her, your lady friend would know
nothing of the scurrilous comments which
the idle loafers at every corner make upon
her dress and personal appearance, whenever
she walks the streets. How grievous, in
deed, would that be! She would thus be
deprived of the inexpressible pleasure of
knowing that, while passing before their
“optics keen,” she furnishes a target for
the shafts of their polished wit. She de
pends on you for rehearsals of all the float
ing gossip about her extravagance, her flir
tations, and whom “ they” have decided she
shall marry. Remember, she will be greatly
delighted to know all these, and you must
not withhold.
There is gossip, too, about your male
friends, of which they must be informed.
There are comments made upon their tal
ents, principles and persons. Their char
acters are misapprehended and their actions
sneered at with contempt. Report all faith
fully, taking care to omit nothing, though
you may now and then add a little to give
point and consistency. It will doubtless fill
their bosoms with a warm glow of love for
that world whioh “ they” compose to know
LITERARY GEOEGIA CEUSADEE.
that they have expressed their opinions so
unreservedly. No danger that they will
either loathe themselves or hate the race.
Tell your friends generally of all the evil
you hear spoken of them. What though
you should sow dissensions, animosities and
strifes thick as dragon’s teeth among your
neighbors? They all hate each other any
how, or they would not talk in this manner;
and if so, is it not a great pleasure for a man
to know his enemies ? He cannot surely re
alize any bliss from not knowing that the
smiles and agreoable speeches with which
he is greeted are <alse. Lift the deceptive
veil from before their eyes, and let them
see things as they really are. It is a work
of benevolence, doubly blessed; for, besides
the blessings which you confer, it will afford
you exquisite pleasure to detail the elegant
wit with which those perpetrate who have
nothing else to do.
Young Mon.
There is much said about the impru
dence and thoughtlessness of young men,
and among the old and middle-aged, their
efforts are always regarded with distrust.
This prejudice the young man has to over
come, before he can be appreciated. Yet,
many of the noblest exploits which history
records have been performed by young men,
while inspired by the first glow of youthful
enthusiasm. Alexander ascended the throne
of Macedon when a mere stripling, over
threw the most magnificent empire on the
globe and died in drunken bebauch just
as he had attained the age of mature man
hood. Cicero and Demosthenes both first
distinguished themselves in efforts before
public assemblies at. the age of twenty-seven.
William of Orange had won the respect and
confidence ol a distracted and divided coun
try before he had attained his majority.
Napoleon was but twenty-two when he was
appointed to the command of the army of
Italy, and his first campaign witnessed some
ol the most brilliant victories of his brilliant
career. Washington was but sixteen when
he was appointed Surveyor of the public
lands, at twenty-one he was intrusted with
an important mission in which judgment
and daring were indispensably requisite,
and at twenty-four was appointed Comman
der-in-chief of all the Virginia forces.
Literary men have been particularly re
markable for the performances of their
early years. Thomas Campbell published
his “ Pleasures of Hope” at the age of twen
ty-one—the same age at which Pope wrote
his “essay on Criticism.” Kirk White
achieved a literary reputation and died be
fore he was twenty-five. Shelly wrote his
“Queen Mab” at eighteen, Keats his “ Endy
mion” at twenty-two, and Thomas Moore
wrote poems at fourteen which were pub
lished in the Dublin University Magazine.
Byron, Burns and Goldsmith all died before
they had reached middle age, and of all
of them, their earliest works were among
their best. Very few, indeed, have achieved
literary fame who did not in youth give
promising indications of their genius.
We might very easily, by consulting the
record, multiply these examples to an infi
nite number, but'it would be unnecessary.
While it is admitted that many young men
display great folly and betray much weak
ness in sowing “wild oats,” they are not, as
a class, deserving of distrust. On the con
trary, they embody the effective, working
energy of all nations. Ardent in their un
dertakings, often even to rashness, they still
display a faithful devotion and an untiring
perseverance worthy of all commendation.
One heart knoweth not another’s woe
The clouds of anguish which envelope one
soul with oppressive gloom, are unseen by
other eyes than those which they obscure.
Sometimes we may behold the bowed form
and hear the groanings of anguish, but even
then, we have only a slight glimpse of the
depth and intensity of the woe. When we
see a body rigid and cold, with the eyes
glazed and the heart-strings all broken, we
can scarce believe that sorrow alone has
wrought the sad rain. Perhaps it came in
one terrific stroke, like a bolt of Heaven’3
artillery, and the heart heaved for a moment
with wild, convulsive throbs, and then grew
still forever. Perhaps it began like an im
perceptible worm, and slowly eat until the
rose left the cheek, the lightness the step,
the joy the eye, and death came as a thief
in the night and stole the life away. But
assume what form it may, it is always im
perfectly known or understood by those who
behold its outward manifestations. No
stethoscope can look in upon its workings
and calculate the rate at which it is rending
body and soul. Even when breast lies to
breast, so that every pulsation of the one
may be felt by the other, bitter pangs may
pervade each, of which the other has no in
timation. The husband may carry hidden
within him sorrows which the companion
whom his love has chosen does not and may
not know. The wife carries, secreted in the
inmost folds of her nature, some private
grief which she carefully guards from all
prying knowledge. Who can describe the
painful sting of these hidden griefs? Per
haps, if revealed, their power of inflicting
suffering would be removed. But thus con
cealed and silently brofeded over, the un
happiness which they create is continually
becoming more deep-seated and irremova
ble. Every one has some cause of grief
which he would not let others know, even
were it subject to their scrutiny. There are
the wounds of pride, the disappointments
of hope, the crushings of aspirations and the
insultings of vanity, to which he would not
give a voice or exhibit any external indica
tion. A thousand vexations and annoy
ances harrass the mind and chase all pleas
ure from life, which are never seen or heard.
They must be borne without sympathy or
condolence, and lie most lightly upon those
who patiently bend their necks to the bur
den and resist not the yoke.
Litti-e Great People.— Multum in parvo—
much in little—is a good old adage, whose
truth has been signally illustrated by many
dwarfish heroes; such as those famous an
cients, Agesilaus, wisest of the Spartan
kings, Licinius Calvus, the Roman orator,
and Lucius, the Roman actor. Among the
moderns, our praises are due—either on
account of valor, genius or virtue—to the
great men, Attila, the Scourge of God—
Pepin the Little—Philip Augustus,
king and a brave soldier, whose love for the
fair Melanie is one of the romantic passages
of history—Albert the Great, whom, it is
said, the Pope on one occasion, several
times requested to rise, in the belief he was
still kneeling—the Portugese navigator,
Vasco di Gama, who first rounded the Cape
of Good Hope—Erasmus —Guiton, the Pro
testant, who so stoutly defended Rochelle
against Cardinal Richelieu —Gibson the
painter, whose wife, too, was a dwarf, three
feet high, but the mother of nine children —
Prince Eugene, the worthy comrade of our
great Marlborough—Maria Theresa, the
“noster rex” of loyal Hungarian nobles—
the Spanish admiral,Gravina —that wild
| and mysterious fabulist, the German Hoft
j mann—and, above all, perhaps, for genius
) at least, Napoleon Bonaparte.
PERSONAL.
Mrs. G*n. Scott is in Rome.
Robert McLane, of Maryland, it is said,
has been appointed Minister to Mexico.
Post-Master General A. V. Brown is said
to be dangerously ill with pheumonia.
Gen. Scott is in New Orleans, but will
soon return to his post at Washington.
Mrs. Caroline Laurens, wife of Lieut.
John N. Maftitt, U- S. N. died on the 3d
inst. in Washington.
. Mr. Field, the paying-teller of the At
lantic Bank, Brooklyn, has absconded, being
defaulter for nearly S6O 000.
The Hon. Murray McConnel, of Illinois,
resigned his late position as Fourth Auditor
of the Treasury on Tuesbay last.
Hon. Aaron V. Brown, Post-Master Gen
eral of the United States, died in Washing
ton City on the morning of the Bth.
Dr. Daniel Lee is engaged in writing a
series of articles for the Augusta Constitution
alist in advocacy of the African Slave
Trade.
Hon. Edward Ball is announced as an
opposition candidate for the Clerkship of
the next House of Representatives, in Con
gress.
Alexander Wentworth died in Boston
the other day, from taking an over-dose of
medicine prescribed for him by a “spirit
medium.”
Rev. Bishop Baker, of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, was robbed in New York,
on Tuesday last of his portmonnie, con
taining one hundred and fifty dollars.
Mr. Sidney Clemens, after a thorough
and satisfactory examination, has been ad
mitted to the Bar, at Forsyth Superior
Oourt.
Henry Jumpertz, the Chicago murderer
who put the remains of his wife into a bar
rel and sent them to New York, has been
sentenced to be hung on Friday, May 6.
The Hon. E. A. Hannegan, formerly
United States Senator from India, died at
the Planters’ House, in St. Louis, on the
night of the 25th ult.
Queen Victoria will be petitioned by the
Canadian Parliament to cross the ocean,
and open the first Parliament in Ottawa,
the new capital of Canada.
George Philips Bond, Esq. has been cho
sen Director of the Observatory at Cam
bridge, in place of his father, Professor W.
Cranch Bond, lately deceased.
Dr. William M. Boling, one of the old
est and most skillful physicians, and one of
the most esteemed and respected citizens of
Montgomery, Alabama, died on Friday last.
The Duke of Buckingham has two vol
umes of “Memoirs of the Court of George
IV.” in press, made up from original pa
pers.
The Hon. Louis O’Branch, of North Car
olina, is spoken of as the probable successor
of the Hon. Aaron V. Brown, deceased, in
the office of Post-Master General.
Anderson J. Rodgers, Esq. has disposed
of the Dalton North Georgia Times to Messrs.
J. T. Whitman and J. L. Caldwell, and re
tired from the paper.
Lemuel Phillips, a veteran of the war of
1812, died in Columbia, Tennessee, on the
21st of February last. He went to Columbia
in 1817. He was in the battles of New Or
leans, of December 23, and January 8.
Leigh Hunt, the genial essayist and vet
eran author, is writing a series of papers,
called “The Occasional,” for the London
Spectator —a journal in which his son, Thorn
ton Hunt, is interested, both as editor and
proprietor.
Hon. A. H. Stephens was tendered a
public dinner by a large number of his
friends and personal admirers in Congress
at the close of the late session of that body,
which compliment business engagements
compelled him to decline.
James Carnahan, D. D. lato President of
Princeton College, died at Newark, N. J. on
Wednesday night. He was born in Cum
berland county, Pa. in 1775, graduated at
Princeton in 1800, and subsequently became
a Presbyterian clergyman.
Hon. Richard Cobden, the celebrated
English statesman, who came passenger in
the Canada, has come to this country on
business of a strictly private nature, and
will, if possible, decline any public ovations
that might be tendered him.
Prof. Jas. Russel Lowell’s birthday was
celebrated in Boston, by his friends, with a
“feast of reason and a flow of soul.” A num
ber of literary and scientific gentlemen
were present; presents were made to the
Professor ; poems were read; and a pleas
ant time had generally.
Letter from a Lady to her Husband.—
The following letter from a gifted lady, now
abroad, conveys a lesson that should be
pondered:
“My Dear Husband: Greatly to my sur
prise and pleasure, the postman brought me
another letter this morning. The reason
your last did not reach me as soon as it
should have done, was, that the carriers are
dull about a name they are not familiar
with. You remember speaking of giving
a dinner to your friends at the Astor House
on your return home ; but to have one given
to you was tenfold more gratifying. The
attention that is everywhere shown to you,
coming as they do from respect for your vir
tuous life, your correct principles and your
honesty of heart and integrity of pur
pose, are far more precious to me than
would be the crown of an emperor. Money
I prize for the sake of the power it gives;
but I could enjoy it only when gained in an
honorable manner. ‘To be right is better
than to be President!’ was the motto of one
who was an honor to his country. There
is no great merit in doing well, is a misfor
tune. To be the wife of a man who is re
spected for his talents and loved for his vir
tues is the summit of happiness for me. You
knew from the time I was married my am
bition was all for you. A woman seldom
rises above or falls below the position her
husband gives her.”
Hart County, Georgia, rejoices in the pos
session of a remarkable dog, whose “dog
type” is thus given by a correspondent of
the Anderson, (S. C.) Gazette:
In personal appearance he is a common
flee dog, altogether such an one as you may
meet in the street at any time, but his ex
centricity consists in this, that while other
dogs stroll “over the hills and far away,”
or lazily sleep on the mat at the door, he
rejoices in the poultry yard, responding
whenever his favorite crows. He never
seems tired of the music, but leisurely waits
for the concert, and when the most shrill
toned voice sounds loud and clear, he lays
back his head, and opening his mouth,
makes a brief but appropriate reply by howl
ing.
There are, in thiaeountry, many witnesses
to these foots. We give them as strange to
us who never knew a similar case.
Maxims for Married Women. —A young
lady being on the point of marriage, appliecl
to a young friend for a set of rules to guide
her in her new condition. The following
were presented to her in reply:
“1. Avoid all thoughts of managing your
husband.
2. Never try to deceive or impose on his
understanding, nor give him uneasiness,
but treat him with affection and respect.
3. Remember, that husbands, at best, are
only men, subject, like yourselves, to error
and frailty. Be not too sanguine, then, be
fore marriage, or promise yourself happiness
without alloy.
4. Should you discover anything in your
husband’s humor or behavior, not alto
gether wh.it you expected or wish, pass it
over. Smoothe your own temper, and try
to mend his, by attention, cheerfulness and
good nature.
5. Never reproach him with misfortunes,
which are the accidents and infirmities of
human life, a burden that each has engaged
to help the other in supporting, and to
which both parties are equally exposed;
but instead of mur.nurings and reflections,
divide the sorrow between you, make the
best of it, and it will be easier to both.
6. It is the office of the softer sex to
smoothe the troubles of the other.
7. Resolve every morning to be cheerful
that day, and if any thing occur to break
your resolution, suffer it not to put you out
of temper with your husband.
8. Dispute not with him ; but rather deny
yourself the trifling satisfaction of having
your own will, or gaining the better of an
argument, than risk a quarrel or create a
heart-burning, which it is impossible to see
the end of.
9. Implicit submission *in a man to his
wife, is ever disgraceful to both ; implicit
submission in a wife, to the just will of her
husband is what she promised at the altar
—what the good will revere her for, and
what is, in fact, the greatest honor she can
receive.
10. Be assured, a woman’s power, as well
as her happiness, has no other foundation
than her husband’s esteem and love, which
it is her interest, by all possible means, to
preserve and increase.
11. Enjoy with him his satisfaction, share
and soothe his cares ; and with the utmost
assiduity, conceal his infirmities.
12. If you value your own, and your hus
band’s ease, let your expenses and desires
be ever within reach of his circumstances ;
for if poverty should follow, you must share
the evil.
13. Be careful, never to give him any
cause of jealousy.
14. Let not many days pass without seri
ous examination into your conduct as a
wife, and if, on reflection, you find yourself
guilty of any foibles or omissions, the best
atonement is to be more careful in the fu
ture.
Curious Clia.i\gea in tb.e Body.
Our bodies are at all times like the fire
which was shown to the hero of “ Pilgrim’s
Progress,” in Interpreter’s house, which had
water ponred on it on one side of the wall on
which it blazed, and oil on the other. In
our body one tissue is here burning like
fuel, and there another is becoming the de
pository of combustible matter. We have,
as it were, millions of microscopic wind fur
naces, converting into carbonic acid, water,
vapor and other products of combustion, all
the combustible elements of the body; and
millions of blast furnaces, reducing the
starch and sugar of the food, and the sul
phates and phosphates of the body into in
flamable oils and other fuels, which are
finally transferred to the wind furnaces and
burned there. Burning and what we must
call in contradistinction, unburning, thus
proceed together; the flame of life, like a
blowpipe flame, exhibiting an oxydizingand
a reducing action at points not far distant
from each other.
Such is the human body—ever changing
—ever abiding. A temple always complete,
yet always under repair. A mansion which
quite contents its possessor, and yet has its
plans and its materials altered each mo
ment. A machine which never stops work
ing, and yet is taken to pieces in the twink
ling of an eye, and put together in another.
A cloth of gold, to which the needle is ever
adding one side of a line, and from
which the scissors are cutting away on the
other. Yes, life, like Penelope, of the old
mythology, is ever weaving and unweaving
the same web, while her grim suitors, dis
ease and death, watch for her halting; only
for her there is no Ulysses who willoneday,
in triumph, return.
Patrick O’Niel, before he became joined
in the holy bonds of wedlock, was in the
service of Father Conley. One day the
Priest expected a call from a Protestant
minister, and he wished some excuse to get
rid of him. So calling Patrick, he proceeded
to give some instructions:
“Patrick,” said he, if that minister comes
here to-day, I don’t wish to see him.”
“Yis, yourriverence.”
“Make some excuse and sendhimaway.”
“What shall I tell him ?”
“Tell him I am not at home.”
“Would you have me tell a lie, your riv
erence ?”
“No, Patrick, but get rid of him some
way, give him an evasive answer.”
“An evasive answer, is it! I will do it.”
“You understand me, Patrick ?”
“Av coorse, your riverence.”
The matter arranged, Father Conley re
tired to his library, and Patrick went about
his duties. About dusk in the afternoon
the Priest came” out of his room and found
Patrick in unusual good spirits.
“Well, Patrick, did the minister call to
day ?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And did you get rid of him?”
“I gave him an evasive answer.”
“An evasive answer, Patrick?”
“Yis, yer riverence.”
“What was it?”
“He axed was ye in, and I tould him was
his grandmother a monkey ?”
A New Saint in the Calendar. While
children possess a patron saint in jolly Saint
Nicholas or Santa Claus; lovers, one in
good Saint Valentine; and even the mar
ried have their Lares and Penates—the
confirmed old bachelor has no sainted be
ing into whose bosom he can pour his com
plainings and troubles. Aware of the re
gard which this class of society, as a gen
eral thing, entertains for children, we may
be permitted to suggest, as a proper being
for them to bow to, the name of Saint
Herod. Since the day of the slaughter of
the innocents, King Herod has not been
fairly dealt with. Charles Lamb, in fact,
seems to have been the only person who
ever fully appreciated this unfortunate sov
ereign. We all know the sentiment that
he once gave at a dinner where he had been
annoyed by the conduct of several unruly
children who were present —but think it
will bear repeating once more—when on
being called upon for a toast, he rose, and
with inimitable gra\ ity and much stutter
ing proposed “ the memory of the much
calumniated good King Herod.” We
trust our bachelor friends will adopt Herod
for their patron saint.
Illusion.—T here is nothing so real in this
world as illusion. All other things may de
sert a man, but this fair angel never leaves
him. She holds a star a billion miles over
a baby’s head, and laughs to see him claw
ing and battling himself as he tries to reach
it. She glides before the hoary sinner down
the path which leads to the inexorable gate,
jingling the keys of Heaven at her girdle.
—The Autocrat.
Mr. Everett is not a newspaper writer,
and never can be. With all his immense
talent he could not make a daily paper live
six months, unless said paper was sustained
by means outside of its legitimate income.
The same remark will apply to Washington
Irving, Longfellow and all the other well
known literary gentlemen in this country.
The least readable daily paper issued in this
country is the one published at Burlington,
by Saxe, the wittiest poet in Vermont.
Saxe is a wit, scholar and a man of genius,
and yet, he could no more make a readable
newspaper than he could overturn the Pyr
amids.— Washington Union*
The Little Hand.
Thine is a little hand—
A tiny little hand—
But ii it clasp
With timid grasp
Mme own, ah! me, 1 well can understand
The pressure of that little hand!
Thine is a little mouth—
Avery little mouth —
But ah ! what bliss
To steal a kiss,
Sweet as the honeyed zephyrs of the South,
From that same rosy little mouth!
Thine is a little heart —
A little fluttering heart—
Yet it was warm
And pure and calm,
And loves me with its whole untutored art,
That palpitating little heart!
Thou art a little girl—
Only a little girl—
Yet art thou worth
The wealth of the earth—
Diamond and ruby, saphire, gold and pearl—
To me thou blessed little girl!
. CLIPPINGS.
Never open the door to a little vice, lest a great
one should enter also.
Evil men speak as they wish rather than what
they know.
Nothing establishes confidence sooner than
punctuality.
Quicksilver —dimes in the hands ot a spend
thrift.
A church for outcasts, exclusively, is about to
be built in Cincinnati.
The manufacture of hemp twine has been com
menced in Columbus, Geo.
A spark is a molecule of matter, yet if may
kindle the world ; vast is mighty ocean, but
drops have made it vast.
Despise not thou a small thing, either for evil
or for good; for a look may work thy ruin, or a
word create thy wealth.
Death has consigned many a man to fame,
whom longer life would have consigned to imfa
my.
Never give counsel where it is not asked of
you, especially to those who are capable of ap
preciating it.
There is nothing that requires a stricter econo
my than our benevolence. We must husband it
carefully if we would do any good with it.
All the cases that come before a certain New
York judge are actually decided by lot; he is an
able and impartial Judge, and his name—is Lott.
If women were jurors, as some of them claim
that they ought to be, what chance would your ug
ly old fellows stand when indicted?
Two counterfeiters, calling themselves John
West and George W. Jones, were arrested near
Yazoo City, recently, and committed to jail in
default of bail.
The famous craft Wanderer, has been condem
ned to confiscation by the government, and is to
be sold at auction.
We have all heard of asking for bread and re
ceiving a stone, but a gentleman may be consid
ered as still worse treated when he asks for a
young lady’s hand and gets her father’s foot.
“Isyour master at home?” “No, sir, he’s
out.” “Mistress at home ?” “No, sir, she's
out.” “Then I’ll step in and sit by the fire.”
“That’s out, too.”
The wife’ of Wm. A. Ramsey, of Americus,
Georgia, recently gave birth to three living chil
dren, daughters, two of whom died three days af
terward.
The Boston Courier says that the crop’ of ice
in that vicinity has been unusually large this year.
The ice houses are filled, and a large quantity of
surplus ice is stacked.
A State census of Texas, just taken, shows a
population of 458,620, against 212,492, in the year
1850, when lowa had but 192,000, though she now
has over 600,000.
Tha cost of construction and equipment of the
railroads in the United States, amount to $1,050,-
665,870, or enough money to break down any
other country in the world.
A report from the superintendent of the Louis
iana Penitentiary, states, that of three hundred
convicts in that institution, one hundred and thir
ty-five are imprisoned for life.
“Ho is a very unfortunate man,” said Dr.
Spooner speaking of a gentleman whose ill luck
is proverbial, “and I really believe it he should
fall on his back that he would break his nose.”
Sir Christopher Wran was the architect of
William and Mary College, lately destroyed by
fire. It was probably the only building in this
country that could claim so distinguished a
source.
The National Intelligencer says that both the
chair and desk used by John Quincy Adams while
he was a member of the House, are in the posses
sion of Mrs. John Adams of Washington City, his
daughter-in-law.
‘What has been your business :’ said a Judge
to a prisoner at the bar.
‘Why. your Honor, I used to be a dentist—now
I am a pugilist—then I pul teeth in—now I knock
’m out.’
It is said that Mrs. P— , of New Ytfrk, the
wife of a licensed oil manufacturer, wore at the
Napier ball, in Washington, diamonds valued at
one hundred thousand dollars, and lace worth
eleven thousand dollars.
“How do you like my new turn-out,” said an
ex-office holder, calling attention to his fine equi
page. ‘ Better no doubt than you liked the
one the Government lately gave you*” replied an
acquaintance.
An Irishman who had returned from Italy,
where he had been with his master, in the kitch
en, “j ea, then, Pat, what is the lava I hear the
master talking about?” “Only a drop of the
crater,” was Pat’s reply.
The Secretary af the State of Wisconsin, in
forms the Legislature that of the amount of mo
ney expended for public printing during the past
three years, about $27,000 was lor English, $30,-
000 for German, and $14,000 for Norwegian lan
guages.
Talleyrand had paid to Hamilton the compli
ment of admitting to a friend of the lecturer, that
of the men of mark he had ever seen, of Europe
and America—and he had seen most of them—
he considered Alexander Hamilton the very fore
most of them all.
Tha joint resolution conterring upon Commo
dore Chas. Stewart the brevet rank of senior flag
officer, has passed both houses of Congress. The
rank is a sort of equivalent to that of admiral, and
it will terminate at the death of Commodore
Stewart. It corresponds to General Scott’s bre
vet rank of Lieutenant General.
An exchange tells of an editor who went sol
diering and was chose ‘Capting.’
One day, on parade, instead of giving the or
ders, ‘front face, three paces forward,’ he exclai
med,
Cash—two dollars in advance.
Madame Le Vert, in one of her pictures of Cu
ban life, says the women there have a noble trait
of character—“they never speak ill of each other,
but always find some pallidation for the errors of
their own sex.” Who will oppose annexation
now ?
The writer of the Declaration of Independence
was passionately fond of fiddling, and is said to
have excelled in playing upon that instrument.
In 1770, his family mansion was burnt. Mr. Jef
ferson used to tell, in after years, with glee, an
anecdote connected with the fire. He was absent
from home when it occurred ; and a slave arri
ved out ofbreath, to inform him of the disaster.
After learning the general destruction, he inqui
red, “But were none of my books saved t” “No
maasa,” was the reply, “but we saved de fid
dle!”
THE bells.
BY B. A. POX.
T
Hear the sledges with the bells—
• Silver bells! . g
What a world of merriment their melody foretells !
How they tinkle,, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort-ol Runic rhyme,
To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells —
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
11.
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
• Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty slates,
To the turtle-dove that listens while she gloats
On the moon !
Oh, from out the sounding cells.
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells !
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future ! how it tells
Os the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Os the bells, bulls, belle,
Os the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
111.
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells !
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright !
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out ot tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire.
In a mad expostulation with thedeafand frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desiro,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells.
What a tale their terror tells
Os Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air !
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs ana flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling.
How the dangei sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the
belts—
Os the bells—
Os the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor ot the bells!
IV.
Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells !
What a world of solemn thought their monody
compels !
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone !
For every sound that floits
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the peop’.e—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone.
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone —
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls ;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells !
And he dances and he yells ;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean ot the bells—
Os the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Os the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells ;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the tolling of the hells —
Os the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Os the bells, bells, bells, bells—
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
THE SACRED VOLUME.
Some writer ‘gives the. following analysis of
the book of books, the Bible:
It is a book of laws, to show the right and
wrong.
It is a book of wisdom, that makes the foolish
wise.
It is a book of truth, which detects all human
errors.
It is a book of life, that shows how to avoid
everlasting death.
It is the most authentic and entertaining his
tory ever published.
It contains the most remote antiquities, the
most remarkable events and wonderful occurren
ces.
It is a complete <-ode of laws.
It is a periiect body of divinity.
THE BABY.
To-day we cut the fragrant sod.
With trembling hands, asunder,
And lay this well-beloved of God,
Our dear dead baby, under.
O, hearts that ache, and ache afresh !
O, tears too blindly raining !
Our hearts are weak, yet, being flesh,
Too strong for out restraining!
Sleep, darling, sleep. Cold rains shall steep
Thy little turf-made dwelling ;
Thou wilt not know, so far below.
What winds or storms are swelling ;
And birds shall sing in the warm spring,
And flowers bloom about thee ;
Thou wilt not heed them, love, and O,
The loneliness without thee! •
Father, we will be comforted!
Thou wast the gracious giver ;
We yield her up—not dead, not dead—
To dwell with Thee for ever!
Take Thqu our child ! ours for a day,
Thine while the ages blossom !
This little shining head we lay
In the Redeemer’s bosom !
“A ruffian shot at me last night,” said a pe
nurious gentleman, “and my life was saved by
the ball’s striking a silver dollar in my pocket.”
“Whoever takes true aim at your heart is very
certain to hit a dollar,” said one who knew
him.
Course of Refinement.— The same age
which produces great philosophers and pol
iticians, renowned generals and poets, usu
ally abounds with skillful weavers and ship
ovrpenters. The spirit of the age affects all
the arts; and the minds of men being once
roused from their lethargy, and put into a
fermentation, turn themselves on all sides
and carry improvements into every art and
science. Profound ignorance is totaly ban
ished, and men enjoy the privilege of ra
tional creatures, to think as well as act ; to
cultivate the pleasures of the mind as well
as those of the body. The more these re
fined arts advance, the more sociable men
become; nor is it possible that when en
riched with science, and possessed of a fund
of conversation, they should be content to
remain in solitude, or live with their fellow
creatures in that distant manner which is
peculiar to ignorant and barbarous nations.
— Hume.
At almost every step in life we meet with
young men from whom we anticipate won
derful things, but of whom, after careful in
quiry, we never hear another word. The
effervescence of youth and passion, and the
fresh gloss of the intellect and imagination
endow them with a false brilliancy, which
make fools of themselves and other people.
Like certain chintzes, calicoes and ging
hams, they show finely on their first new
ness, but cannot stand the sun and the
rain, and assume a very sobe.” aspect after
washing fay .—Nathaniel HawtJwme.
Montaigne, the great French writer, on
one occasion, set down in his book of ex
penses, “Item, for a fit of idleness, one thou
sand pounds.”