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ed the earth before him to be opened, when
two jars were found, one filled with honey,
the other with milk, which he pronounced
emblems of the abundance promised by
heaven to all who should obey his law.
Christian writers have scoffed at these
miracles; suggested that the dove had
been tutored to its task, and sought grains
of wheat which it had been accustomed to
find in the ear of Mahomet: that the scroll
had previously been tied to the horns of
the bull, and the vessels of milk and honey
deposited in the ground. The truer course
would be to discard these miraculous sto
ries altogether, as fables devised by mis
taken zealots; and such they have been
pronounced by the ablest of the Moslem
commentators.
HIS PERSON.
Mahomet, according to accounts handed
down by tradition from his contemporaries,
was of a middle stature, square-built and
sinewy, with large hands and feet. In his
youth he was uncommonly strong and vi
gorous ; in the latter part of his life, he
inclined to corpulency. His head was ca
pacious, well-shaped, and set on a neck
which rose like a pillar from his ample
chest. Hie forehead was high, broad at
the temples, and crossed by veins extend
ing down to the eyebrows, which swelled
whenever he was angry or excited. He
had an oval face, marked and expressive
features, an aquiline nose, black eyes, arch
ed eyebrows, which nearly met, a mouth
large and flexible, indicative of eloquence;
very white teeth, somewhat parted and ir
regular; black hair, which waved without
a curl on his shoulders, and a long and
very full beard.
His deportment, in general, was calm
and equable; he sometimes indulged in
pleasantry, but more commonly was grave
ana dignified ; though he is said to have
possessed a smile of captivating sweetness.
His complexion was more ruddy than is
usual with Arabs, and in his excited and
enthusiastic moments, there Avas a glow
and radiance in his countenance, which his
disciples magnified into the supernatural
light of prophecy.
HIS HABITS.
He was sober and abstemious in his
diet, and a rigorous observer of fasts. He
indulged in no magnificence of apparel—
the ostentation of a petty mind ; neither
was his simplicity in dress affected, but the
result of a real disregard for distinction
from so trivial a source. His garments
were sometimes of wool; sometimes of
the striped cotton of Yemen, and were of
ten patched. He wore a turban, for he
said turbans were worn by the angels ; and
in arranging it. he let one end hang down
between his shoulders, which he said was
the way they wore it. He forbade the
wearing of clothes entirely of silk, but
permitted a mixture of thread and silk.—
He forbade also red clothes, and the use of
gold rings. He wore a seal ring of silver,
the engraved part under his finger, close to
the palm of his hand, bearing the inscrip
tion, “Mahomet, the messenger of God.’’
He was scrupulous as to personal cleanli
ness. and observed frequent ablutions. In
some respects he was a voluptuary.—
“ There are two things in this world,” he
would say, “which delight me—women
and perfumes. These two things rejoice
my eyes, and render me more fervent in de
votion.” From tus extreme cleanliness,
and the use of perfumes, and of sweet
scented oil lor the hair, probably arose that
sweetness and fragrance of person, which
his disciples considered innate and miracu
lous. His passion for the sex had an in
fluence over all his affairs. It is said that,
when in the presence of a beautiful female,
he was continually smoothing his brow
and adjusting his hair, as if anxious to ap
pear to advantage.
HIS CHARACTER.
When he hung over the death-bed of his
infant son Ibrahim, resignation to the will
of God was exhibited in his conduct under
this keenest of afflictions: and the hope of
soon rejoining his child in Paradise was his
consolation. When he followed him to
the grave, he invoked his spirit, in the aw
ful examination of the tomb, to hold fast to
the foundations of the faith, the unity of
God, and his own mission as a prophet.—
Even in his own dying hour, when there
could be no longer a worldly motive for
deceit, he still breathed the same religious
devotion, and the same belief in his apos
tolic mission. The last words that trem
bled on his lips, ejaculated a trust of soon
entering into blissful companionship with
the prophets who had gone before him.
It is difficult to reconcile such ardent,
persevering piety, with an incessant sys
tem of blasphemous imposture; nor such
pure and elevated and benignant precepts
as are contained in the Koran, with a mind
haunted by ignoble passions, and devoted
to the grovelling interests of mere mortali
ty ; and we find no other satisfactory mode
of solving the enigma of his character and
conduct, than by supposing that the ray of
mental hallucination which flashed upon
his enthusiastic spirit during his religious
ecstacies in the midnight cavern of Mount
Hara, continued more or less to bewilder
him with a species of monomania to the
end of his career, and that he died in the
delusive belief of his mission as a prophet.
A Compliment.—Walter Savage Can
dor, in an article on the Poussin aflair. in
the London Examiner , says:
“ Arrogance is broken into foam when
it dashes on the Western shores of the At
lantic. America knows equally her inter
est and dignity. Averse to war. averse to
the politics of Europe, she is greatly more
than a match against the united powers of
that continent. At the head of the United
States is a brave, a temperate, a sagacious
man.”
Why did the French depose Louis Phii
lippe? Because his offence was rank.
IF (DST IB'tT*
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
LINES
IN MEMORY OF THE LOVED AND LOST.*
He sleeps the sleepof death! Mark, on his brow
The marble paleness set, and o’er his cheek
The hue which tells us life is gone, aye, gone,
From a fond Father’s heart, which beat alone
For us, his orphan'd charge—and now, alas !
Made doubly orphans! “God of grace! look
down
I’pon our anguish’d hearts, and hid the storm
Os grief be lulled —the star of Hope to rise!”
W T e stood around him when the shudes of death
Were gathering fast upon his soul: we marked
The fell Destroyer's hand laid on the form
We loved, and strove to hide our burning grid,
And smoothe the dreary way to death’s dark
vale.
We knew that angels bore his soul to Heaven,
When the last flickering breath had strayed,
and he
Lay calm and peaceful as a sleeping babe
O! then we laid us down and wept —then felt
That we had gazed our lust into those eyes
So mildly blue, and heard the last sweet tones
Os love fr< m those dear lips, forevermore !
* * * # * * *
They bore him from our sight, and laid him low,
Beneath the cold, unsympathizing sod;
And as to dust his lifeless form was given,
The bell toll’d out its mournful dirge to Heav’n.
Athens, Ga., Jan. 31,1850. L.
♦The fair writer of the above touching meino
rinl of a beloved but lost father, did not presume
in vain upon our sympathy, when she “ commit
ted to our hands the lines forced from a sorrowing
heart ” We knew her love, and mourn her loss
—while we trust that her own beautiful invocation ;
of divine support will be abundantly granted.—
[Ed. Gazette.
© U is 1 is “J 1 If is ili S o
Athens, Ga., Feb., 1850.
Mr. Editor: As one of the thousands
who sincerely appreciate your labors for
the advancement of Southern Literature,
and ardently desire that you may finally
reach a goal far beyond your most san
guine expectations, 1 eagerly watch every
movement you made in regard to the man
agement of your valuable Journal.
A Georgian I regret that my native slate
no longer is the home of the “ Gazette yet
the ties of maternity still endear it to us.—
We will cherish and support it as tenderly
and as cordially as ever mother watched
over a favorite child. And when it shall j
have reached its meridian of popular favor I
—when it shall be found by every fireside ,
in the whole South—and when the South
ern States shall with a feeling of pride, call i
it “their own Gazette ,” then will we re- j
member that to Georgia it owes its birth. I
May South Carolinians, and especially I
those of Charleston,in receiving you among
them, give you all the aid your exertions
deserve ; and in contributing my mite, I do
no more than 1 esteem a duty, to say noth
ing of the great pleasure I derive from your
Weekly. So book me for a life subscri
ber.
I was recently conversing with one of
Georgia’s favorite sons, such as it is ever
her delight to favor, and whom she has
made e'er now, the recipient of her bright
est honors ; and who now in retirement
still receives the homage of his tellow-citi
zens, when I learnt from him thefollowing
reminisence. It was during the time that
he seived his country in our national Con
gress, and when Noah Webster was about
to publish his dictionary, that he was re
quested by that gentleman to demand of the
House the use of the Hall of Representa
tives as a place to lecture in at night. This
he did and obtained the request, anil hence
sprung up an intimacy. It was at this time
that the gifted W— R— D—, of S. C. was
in Congress, and he chanced to be in the
private apartment of the narrator, upon one
occasion when Noah Webster himself was
there; and during the conversation that
took place Webster remarked that lie hoped
to have in his dictionary every word in
common use throughout the country. D
who was himself a man of great humor,
replied,—“Not so, Sir —not at all,” for he
had seen the proof sheets, “there arc a
great many words that we Southerners
could not get along without, which are not
to be found in your book.”
“How so!” exclaimed the astonished
Webster “what do you mean 1 If it is so,
give me a list of these words—as many as
you can recollect. Nay, mention one to
me.”
“Well! there's egg-nog—”
“ Egg-nog ! why what's that 1 I never
heard of such a thing,” and much totheas
tonishment of the old gentleman, D— pro
ceeded to name several other words which
had never been heard of by him who was
master of twenty-four languages, but
which, with their definitions, are now to
be found in his great work.
Another incident, somewhat dissimilar
to this, but interesting, nevertheless, comes
to my mind—the truth of which I can
vouch for, as it was narrated to me by a
participator:
A certain individual, known far and
wide by talents of the highest order, dis
tinguished more especially for the exube
rance of his humor, and who calls himself
“an itinerant President of Colleges,” for
merly filled that post of honor in a South
ern Institution. Perhaps there is no trait
of his, which more decidedly marks the
man, than his knowledge of human nature.
During the time he occupied the station I
mentioned above, he was in the habit of
delivering to new-comers what he called
“ initiation lectures,” in which there was
abundant opportunity for the display of
his prevailing spirit, humor. To the “in
itiated,” who commonly attended these lec
tures, with faces lengthened for the occa
sion, the effect was of the most counte
nance-disturbing character. Picture to
yourselves a dozen of the “green” ones
sitting with awe-depicted visages; behind
them a crowd of knowing ones, supporting
the farce with all their abilities, yet sup-
SDOSmEE)®® WIISBW ©llllila
i pressing with the utmost difficulty their
rising merriment, while the grave Presi
dent proceeds with his judge-like lecture.
And here let me say that, in the field of
anecdote, he is unequalled. Now the ob
ject of these lectures was very praisewor
thy, and the good resulting from them was
a fine proof of the great tact that origin
ated them. “Now, gentlemen,” he pro
ceeds, “ 1 happen to have been to a certain
college in the F.astern States, denominated
Vale, and am perfectly an fait in all mat
, ters of boyish exploits, so much so as to
be exceedingly fond of indulging young
men in that respect. So, if you ever chance
to have an uncontrollable desire to ring
the bell, only come and inform me of it,
and I will go around to all the rooms, in
forming your fellow-students that they
1 • need not let the belt interrupt them, as I
am going with you, in order to indulge
you in a little harmless exercise.’ And if
you should ever have a ‘chicken fit,’ let
me urge you not to put yourself to the
trouble of predatory expeditions, hut make
me aware of the fact, and I shall be only
too happy to accommodate you from my
own kitchen.” And thus, for an hour, he
continues, giving more real good advice
I than another could accomplish in a week.
It was a short time after one of these lec
tures, that several of the deep ones sat in
ine of the sleeping apartments of the col
lege, late at night, discussing the compara
| tive merits of text-books and segars, while
j the smoke ol the latter curled lazily to the
ceiling, when one of them, B—, suddenly
! exclaimed, “Boys, let’s have a ‘chicken
i tit’!” A shout of approbation followed.
J “Come, D —,” said B— , “indite us an
! epistle to our worthy President, declaring
that the fit is on us; that unless he can ac
commodate us, we must certainly sally
forth and calm our ardor by a marauding
expedition.” Never was a joke entered
into with greater zest. The note —the
production of a talented wit—was des
patched. They waited an hour or more,
with many misgivings, for the bearer, who
at length returned, with the most wo-be
gone face imaginable. His entrance was
greeted with rapturous applause, for his
doleful expression was caused by the
weight of a heavily-laden waiter, upon
which many delicacies were heaped, and
most conspicuous were two fat young pul
lets. which, one short hour betore, reposed
calmly upon their roosts. In the waiter
was an answer to the note sent, which is
yet remembered as unsurpassed for its ex
quisite humor and refined witticisms. “We
never attempted the like again,” concluded
my informant, “nor made mention of the
incident, lest the thing might become 100
commdn.” HAL.
:iJ J Si £ .S L L A i'-TY,
WH AT THE SOUTH REQUIRES,
We copy the following thoughtful
article from the Palmetto Standard , and
while we thank the Editor for his compli
mentary notice of the Gazette, we desire
publicly to pledge ourselves to spare no ex
ertion to make our Journal all that the peo
ple of the South require to secure their pa
tronage . — [Publishers.
Richards’ Weekly Gazette. —We have
received a number of this valuable paper,
now published at Charleston, under the ed
itorial management of Mr. William C. Rich
ards. It is tastefully and beautifully got
ten up, and creditable both to the Editor,
by the general variety and excellence of
its articles, and to the publishers, by the
neatness of its typographical arrangement
and execution.
We hail with satisfaction, the establish
ment of such a paper at the South. It is
common to utter dolorous complaints, that
“ Southern money is profusely paid to build
up and support Northern Periodicals and
lectures upon the duties of patriotism are
constantly read to our people in view of
their great delinquency in this respect.—
The fact is even so, “as complainants al
ledge but the cause lies not in the want
of a disposition to patronize Southern Peri
odicals. We must rather look for it in the
fact, that comparatively few papers in the
South, are in any wise adapted to the wants
and wishes of the large majority of read
ers. They are valuable in no other point
of view than as mere vehicles of local and
political intelligence. Such are not the pa
pers that the masses prefer to read. Com
paratively small is the number of those who
can be induced to take an active interest
in the progress of political events ; and
still fewer are those who care aught about
the triumphs of party scheming or the
working of party measures. They prefer
to have papers less exclusively devoted to
Politics, they desire to have colums filled
with subject matter interesting to the gen
eral reader. For such papers as these, they
have been necessitated to look to the
North, for no where else could they be
found. It is true, they often come freight
ed with matter abusive of the institutions
of the South, and insulting to her people;
it is true, their pages are often filled with
tales and paragraphs most licentious and
demoralizing in their tendency; and with
essays denying the sacred obligations of
the Sabbath and of Christianity ; yet, in the
main, they are such papers as the people
are pleased to read, and such, of course,
they are willing to patronize. Every one
must have observed, that it is not to the
Political papers of the North, that this im
mense patronage is awarded, but to the (so
called) Literary papers. Nor need it beex
pected, that this patronage will ever be di
verted to the support of Southern Presses:
until there are established amongs us pa
pers of a similar literary character. We
are satisfied that there exists in the breasts
of our people, no innate predilection for
Northern papers. Letthem but be turnish
ed with Southern papers such as they want,
and their patronage will not be denied them.
Nor is it inconsistant with the character of
such papers that they keep their readers
fully advised of the progress of political
events.
“ Rithards’ Weekly Gazette ’ may be re
garded as fairly introducing this feature in
Southern Periodical Literature. It is in
every respect worthy the patronage of the
people, independently of its being a South
ern literary paper; and as such, we earn
estly recommend it to our leaders. Prom
the well known enterprising character of
the Publishers, we may freely promise for
them, that if one-half the patronage be
awarded to them, that is usually given to
similar enterprises at the North, the readers
of the “ Gazette ’’ will be furnished a paper
rivalling any of the lauded Northern papers,
as well in iimensions, as in the general va
riety and originality of its contents.
From the Literary American.
SILENT INFLUENCE.
Mail is furnished by Nature with senses
for the perception of material objects : and
though the investigations of philosophy
have been unable satisfactorily to explain
how the eflect produced on the visible or
gans is communicated to the mind, yet it is
i fact proved by the momentary experience
cf every human .being, that outward cir
cimstanc.es do, through the medium of the
senses, exercise an influence on the mental
system. The eye rests on a beautiful land
scape ; the ear receives a harmonious com
bination of sounds ; the sense of smell is
gratifed by fragrant odors, that of taste by
savory compounds, that of touch by con- j
tact vith a soft agreeable substance ; and j
in each of these cases the mind is influ- I
enced, by some unseen connecting agency,
and experiences pleasurable emotions. It
would seem, at first thought, that visible
objects were the only means of acting upon
man; lutthey are not; there are other av
enues of approach to the heart and mind,
unexplored though they may be. Strongly
as we may be acted on by the physical
agents that appeal to the senses, we are
still more strongly, in a variety of ways,
affectel by silent influence. Little reflec
tion is necessary to convince one that this
silent influence, developed in various pha
ses, wields a far more powerful sway over
the feelings, thoughts, and actions of men,
than all the visible agents of nature com
bined Let us examine a lew cases.
That mind acts on mind, is a fact known
as long back as when philosophy began to
exist. The great principle on which the
science of Animal Magnetism rests, was
first taught, and reduced to a system, and
sought to be explained, by Mesmer, but its
existence was recognized ages before.—
! Here we have a marked instance of silent
influence, and none who have seenthissci
ence tested by experiment, even obscured
as it is by pretension and falsehood, can
venture to doubt its power. Were we to
seek an illustration of this in the material
world, we might point to the attraction of
bodies, manifested in our universe with
such evidences of Divine benignity.
Are there any who have not felt the si
lent influence of the human eye ! Mute,
voiceless, it owns a charm, powerful and
inexplicable. The steady gaze of the hu
man eye has been known to close the open
ed jaws of the ravenous lion ; and the in
trepid beast-tamer ows to its silent influ
ence his spell. The snake utters no sound
| when it allures the unconscious bird, but
with the silent, steady influence of the eye,
effects its capture.
Those will not doubt the potency of si
lent influence, who have seen a mother’s
eye lifted upon them in mute rebuke. Oh !
reproach more eloquent, more convincing,
more eflectual, than a thousand words! A
lesson pointed by the silent influence of a
mother’s look, will haunt the memory, will
sting the conscience, will work a miracle
of reformation, long after her beloved form
shall have been resolved into its compo
nent dust.
Can we not recognize a silent influence
in the expression of the human face ! The
cold, stern man repulses, and, like the fa
bled Medusa’s head, seems to petrify all
who look upon him. Warmness of heart,
kindness of disposition, on the other hand,
have their appropriate influence, leading at
once to confidence and affection.
Some of the ancients had a beautiful
creed, which several of their poets have im
morrtalized in undying strains, that every
person was attended by two demons or
spirits, the one counselling him to good,the
other to evil. This was of course a mere
superstition, but it was a type of a great
truth. Men have now their demons, coun
sellors of good and evil—and these demons
are the examples of the good and of the
bad. Here is the greatest silent influence
immeasurable in extent, infininte in dura
tion. The bad man is responsible not on
ly for his own evil deeds, but alas ! for the
deeds of others whom his silent influence,
with voice potential, has called to follow
his example: while the good man, blessed
thoughts! may send up to Heaven not on
ly the savor of his own sacrifices, but the
incense from many an altar which the flame
of his piety has kindled. The woiks of
the good do follow them, but their example
remains, a blessed guide to future genera
tions.
We have here traced a few of the pow
erful workings of silent influence: we
might multiply instances, but we have enu
merated enough to illustrate our meaning,
and prove the existence of this potentagent-
The shallow stream foams and roars over
its rocky bed ; but the deep river flows on
ever silently and calmly ; and thus when
noisy words are powerless, the deep influ
ence, the effective agency, will be found ev
er silent and calm.
THE LOST TRIBES.
Maj. Noah, in an interesting article in
his Sunday Times, is of the opinion that the
“ten lost tribes” of Israel were the origina
tors of the cities whose ruins strew Mexi
co and Central America. He concludes thus
from a variety of circumstances, and es
pecially from the fact that all our tribes of
Indians, bearing the strongest marks of Asi
atic origin, are indentifled with the Israel
ites by the following religious rites :
1. Their belief in one God. 2. In their
computation of time by their ceremonies of
the new moon. 3. In their division of the
year into four seasons. 4. In their erec
tion of a temple, having an ark of the cov
enant, and also in their erection of altars.
5. By the division of the nation into tribes,
with a chief or general sachem at their
head. 6. By their laws of sacrifices, ablu.
tions marriages, ceremonies in war and in
peace, prohibition of eating certain things,
by traditions, history, character, apppear
ance, affinity ot their language to the He
brew, and finally by that everlasting cove
nant of heirship exhibited in a perpetual
transmission of its seal in their flesh, a cus
tom only of late relinquished.
The Phoenicians (Canaanites) had dis
covered the continent 500 years previous to
the migration of the Israelites, and were,
it is assumed, the builders of the pyramids
of Mexico and Central America, and of Pal
enque, Cholula, Otumba, Tlascala.and oth
er cities, of which the ruins now excite our
astonishment; and also the introducers of
hyeroglyphics, plenisphenes, zodiacs, tem
ples military roads, viaducts and bridges
from Egypt, Tyre, Babylon and Carthage.
In the apocryphal book of Esdrass, of great
antiquity, it is said :
“ Whereas, thou sawest another peacea
ble multitude: these are the ten tribes,
which were carried away prisoners out of
their own land, in the time of Osea, whom
Salmaneze, King of Assyria, led away cap
tive, and he carried them over the waters,
so they caiqe unto another land.
“ They took this counsel among them
selves, that they’ would leave the multitude
of the heathen, and go into a further coun
try, wherein never mankind dwelt, that
they might there keep their statutes, which
they never kept in their own land, (Assy
ria,) and there was a great way to go,
namely, a year and a half.”
According to Major Noah’s theory they
marched towards ihe north east course of
Asia, some remained in Tartary, and many
went into China, where they have been
1600 years, and are numerous at this day.
The main body crossed at Behring's Straits
to our continent, the more hardy keeping
to the north, Hudson’s Bay and Greenland;
jhc more cultivated passed down on the
shores of the Pacific, through California to
Mexico, Central America, and Peru, where
i they met their ancient enemies the Canaari
; ites (Phoenicians) whom, as once before,
| they dispossessed of the country. Fur
thermore it is contended that they resided
in California when the ships of Solomen
made their three year’s voyage, and fur
nished the gold of Ophir to build the tem
ple ; also that they are the settlers and pro
prietors of Mexico, Peru, and the whole
American continent, and have been here
centuries before the advent of Christianity,
and patiently await the promises of re
demption.
William Penn, in writing of the Indians,
said:
“I found them with like countenances
to the Hebrew race. 1 consider these peo
i pie under a dark night, yet they believe in
God and immortality, without the aid of
metaphysics. They reckon by moons—
j they offer their first ripe fruits—they have
} a kind of feast of tabernacles —they are
said to lay their altars with twelve stones
—they mourn a year—and observe the Mo
saic law with regard to separation.”
These facts with the opinion of McKen
zie, Bartram, Beltram Smith, Penn, Menas
sah, Ben Israel, the Earl of Crawford, Lo
pez de Gamara, Acosta, Malvenda, Major
Long, Budinot, and Catlin; all eminent
writers and travellors, go to prove that the
I “ ten lost tribes” were the progenitors of
| the races and ideas found in the New World
| on its discovery by Columbus.
Local and Political Attachments.—
The American exhibits little or none of the
local attachments which distinguish the
European. His feelings are more center
ed upon his institutions than his mere coun
try. He looks upon himself more in the
light of a republican than in that of a na
tive of a particular territory. His affec
tions have more to do with the social and
political system with which he is connect
ed, than with the soil which he inhabits, —
The national feelings which he and a Eu
ropean cherish being thus different in their
origin and their object, are also different in
their results. The man whose attachments
converge upon a particular spot of earth, is
miserable if removed from it, no matter how
greatly his circumstances otherwise may
have been improved by his removal; but
give an American his institutions, and he
cares but little where you place him. In
some parts of the Union, the local feeling
may be comparatively strong, such as in
New England; but it is astonishing bow
readily, even there, an American makes up
his mind to try his fortune elsewhere, par
ticularly if he contemplates removal mere
ly to another part of the Union, no matter
how remote or how different in climate, and
other circumstances from what he has been
accustomed to, provided the flag of his
country waves over it, and republican in
stitutions accompany him in his wander
ings.—Mackay's Western World.
Never allow yourself to be seen with a
worse face than you wore for the painter.
PRINTERS, AUTHORS, AND
NEWSPAPERS.
Willis thinks that authors should serve
a year in a newspaper office.
There is no such effectual analysis of
style as the process of type-setting. As
he takes up letter by letter of a long or
complex sentence, the compositor becomes
most critically aware of where the sen
tence might have been shortened to save
his labor. He detects repetitions, becomes
impatient of redundancies, recognizes care
less or inappropriate use of expletives,
and soon acquires a habit of putting an
admiring value on clearness and brevity.
We venture to say that it would alter the
whole charactei of American literature, if
the authors (of our very fluent nation !)
were compelled, before legally recetving
copy right, to have given one year to labor
at the compositor’s case. We have said
nothing of the art of nice punctuation,
which is also acquired in a printing office,
and by which a style is made as much
more tasteful aschampagne by effervescing.
Journeyman printers are, necessarily,
well instructed and intelligent men. It is
part of a proof-reader’s duty to mark
“ query” against every passage in a new
book which he does not clearly compre
hend. Authors who know what is valu
able, profit by these quiet’ estimates of
their meaning ; and many a weak point,
that would have ruined a literary reputa
tion if left uncorrected for the reviewers
to handle, has been noiselessly put right
by a proof-reader’s unobtrusive “qu ?”
Os most books, indeed, we would rather
have the criticism of the workmen in the
office where it was printed, than of the re
viewers who skim and pronounce upon it.
Mr. Bryant, in speaking of newspapers,
said; Books are the precious metals in
masses—newspapers coined them for gen
erhl use, put them into the most convenient
forms, and passed them from hand to hand.
Newspapers, he said, are the ushers of
books; who would know when a book
was published but for the friendly infor
mation of the newspaper I He added,
that he had been sometimes tempted to re
gret that the wise, witty, or eloquent
things which appeared in these “ folios of
four pages,” as they are called by Cow
per, should not be inscribed on more du
rable tablets, instead of going the next
morning to wrap parcels or light kitchen
fires; but he was fully satisfied with their
fate, when he reflected that they had first
been read by thousands, and that whatever
was good in them had passed into the gen
eral mind.
SELECTIONS FOR A NEWS
PAPER.
Most people think the selection of suit
able matter for a newspaper the easiest
part of the business. How great an error.
It is by all means the most difficult. To
look over and over hundreds of exchange
papers every week, from which to select
enough for one, especially when the ques
tion is not what shall, but what shall not
be selected, is no easy task. If every
person who reads a newspaper could have
edited it, we should hear less complaints.
Not unfrequently is it the case, that an
editor looks over all his exchange papers
for something interesting, and can abso
lutely find nothing. Every paper is dryer
than a contribution box; and yet some
thing must be had—his paper must come
out with something in it, and he does the
best he can. To an editor who has the
least care about what he selects, the wri
ting that he has to do is the easiest part of
his labor.
Every subscriber thinks the paper
printed for his own benefit, and if there is
nothing in it that suits him, it must be
stopped—it is good for nothing. Some
people look over thedealhsand marriages,
and actually complain of the editor if but
a few people in the vicinity have so un
fortunate as to die, or so unfortunate as
not to get married in the previous week.
An editor should have such things in his
paper whether they occur or not. Just as
many subscribers as an editor may have,
so many tastes he has to consult. One
wants something smart; another some
thing sound. One likes anecdotes, fun
and frolic, and the next door neighbor
wonders that a man of sense will put
such stuff in his paper. Something spicy
comes out and the editor is a blackguard.
Next comes someihing argumentative, and
the editor is a dull fool. And so, between
them all, you see, the poor fellow gets
roughly handled. And yet to ninety-nine
out of a hundred, these things do not oc
cur. They never reflect that what does
not please them, may please the next man;
but they insist that if the paper does not
suit them, it is good for nothing.— Ver
mont Patriot.
Too Much Care. —We must pay for be
ing too intellectual, as they call it. People
are not as light-hearted for it. I think men
never loved light less. I question if care
and doubt ever wrote their names so le“-i-
O
bly on the faces of any population. This
ennui, for which we Saxons had no name,
this word of France has got a terrific sig
nificance. It shoitens life, and bereaves
the day of its light. Old age begins in the
nursery, and before the young American
has got into jacket and trowsers, he says,
“I want something which I never saw be
fore;” and “I wish I was not l.” I have
seen the same gloom on the brow even of
those adventurers from the intellectual
class, who had dived deepest and with most
success into active life. I have seen the
authentic sign of anxiety and perplexity
on the greatest forehead of the State. The
canker worms have crawled to the topmost
bough of the wild elm, and swing down
from that. Is there less oxygen in the at
mosphere ? What has checked in this age,
the animal spirits which gave toonrfathers
their bounding pulse ?— Emerson.
About Bryant.— Bryant wrote Tt i
topsis in his nineteenth ytar. It w a „
ed for publication in the North An” ‘'"l
Review, then edited by Dana, the-poeu'l
discovering its great merit, deemed it’ c ” ,1
not have been written by an America! J
The interest it excited produced a J
epoch in the circle where it became kn “ °1
“Dana,” says Griswold, “was inwj
that the author of it was a member n |,J
Massachusetts Senate, then in sessioi 1
he walked immediately from CambridwJ
the State House in Boston, to obtain av, 1
of the remarkable man. A plain, mi j?J
aged gentleman, with a business like J
pect, was pointed out to him; a s , I
glance was sufficient, the legislator codl
not be the author of Thanatopsis; and h I
returned without seeking an introdu • 1
The introduction of the real author to tj
public soon followed ; and need vve doubt
the effect which was produced upon th e
youth’s exhibiting such a merit 1
EDITOR'S DEPARTMENT
WM. C. R'ICHARDS, Editor.
D. H. JACQUES, Assistant Editor,
CHARLESTON, S. C.: I
Saturday Morning,....Fob.
Rev. Dr. Dick, S
This distinguished author, who has con-1
tributed so much to the improvement ana I
gratification of English and American read- I
ers, is in a state of comparative destitution. I
and his case demands the earnest conside- I
ration of the public, who have derived so I
much benefit from his works. Especially I
does the appeal come with force to Amen- I
can readers, who, while enjoying the fruits I
of his great labors, at the very lowest me I
chanical cost of multiplying them, have I
not contributed one cent to the remunera- I
tion of their author. This w*e know is I
not the fault of the readers, but rather of I
the publishers of this country, who, un- I
der the piratical policy of the times, have I
re-printed his books in a hundred shapes. I
without any acknowledgment whatever to I
him. From them, beyond any doubt, the I
largest share of beneficence, (let us rather I
call it justice!) in contribution to his ne- I
cessities, is due—but there is a claim be- I
vond this, upon the sympathy of the mil- I
lion readersof those delightful works which I
have literally irradiated our continent with I
the light of Christian philosophy !
The income of the venerable Dr. Diet I
has never been a large one—barely more I
than would sustain him and those depend
ent upon him by the dispensation of Provi
dence. For several years, he has had to
support five grand-children, left orphans
when very young. Mr. Elihu Burritt, oi
the Christian Citizen, visited him some
three years since, and was an eye-witness
of his poverty, which was so extreme,
that “the postage on American letters, tes
tifying to the value of his works, often
times robbed his table of everything save
the vegetables which he cultivated with
his own hands in his garden!” What a
commentary this is, upon the present sys
tem of international piiacy in intellectual
fabrics! It speaks volumes in favor of
the immediate establishment of a copyright
law. Probably half a million of volumes
of the works of this great writer have
been printed and circulated in this country;
and if the publishers had paid the author
the pittance of five per cent, as the Ameri
can copyright, the aggregate would have
been not less than $20,000; or, if a single
cent per volume had been allowed, the sum
would have been $5,000 —an amount of no
inconsiderable value to a man with the
economical habits of Dr. Dick. Instead
of this, however, he has barely received
from American publishers—and from the
liberal bouse of Messrs. Harper only! —
money enough to pay the postage on Amer
ican testimonials to the value of his writ
ings. Oh, shame! where is thy blush 1
The English copyrights paid to Dr. Dick,
have been exceedingly disproportioned to
the value of his works to the English
publishers. His “ Christian Philosopher,'’
for example, brought him only £120; and
this was, perhaps, his most profitable book
Recently, this .great and good man has
been reduced, by sickness and other mis
fortunes, to a still lower depth of poverty
than that we have already alluded to. He
has nearly reached, “by reason of strength,
the venerable age of “fourscore years,” and
has realized the words of the Psalmist—
“ yet is their strength sorrow !” Unable to
write more, and the poor income of his co
pyrights quite exhausted, he is destitute
and dependent! Shall it be said of him,
that while his books adorned the table?
and shelves of a million of people, and
their learning enlarged and improved the
minds of those people, the author sunk in
to a cold grave, beneath the chilling, heart
freezing grasp of Want? Forbid it Phi
lanthropy! forbid it Justice! forbid it Re
ligion! forbid it Humanity!
“ Whatever is done, must be done quick
ly,” says Mr. Burritt. How much, dear
reader, have you been benefilted by the ad
mirable works of this Christian Philoso
pher? “Far more,” do you say, “than
your means are adequate to compensate
him for”? Thanks to you, for the gene
rous, noble confession! But because yon
cannot do all you feel inclined to do m
this pressing case, withhold not your ben-