Cuthbert reporter. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 1856-????, August 16, 1856, Image 1
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tjumovous.
An Inaugural Speech. — The South
'll Literary Mes-enger gives tin- speech
a Warden of a prison or penitentiary
the District of Columbia, who invited
s friends to witness his installation into
nee. The prisoners having been drawn
in a line, ihe new Warden delivered
niself thus :
“ Gentlemen! —licm ! No,” said he,
[“you’re not gentlemen Fellow citizens!
lietn —Convicts! I have just been up
I int"d by the l’rcs dent of these United
States, “union of this penitentiary. Now
lAvt ish to say to yon, that it is my design
fio tiave everything conducted here in the
imost orderly manner, and l would like
J.OU to distinctly understand that the first
\iscal of you that makes a fuss shall be
I - ,! eked out oj the establishment — he shan't
I toy here at all.”
Y A young buck of the soap-lock order,
Jrlio wore an unshaven lip, because, as
lie said, it “ looked foreign,” lately ac
jsted a'Yankee as follows:
- “ I say, fellow, some iudiwiduals think
II am a Frenchman, and some take me for
n Etulyeuu—now, what do you think I
.m ?”
“ I think yon arc a darned fool!” rc
’’ed Jonathan.
“Pat, you have Elated your letter a
Lk ahead. It is not so late in the
litli by one week, you spalpeen ”
•• Troth, boy, iiulade an’ it’s jist mesilf
‘at is wanting swate Kathleen to get it
mvance of the mail Sliure I’ll not care
lie gets it three days afore it’s written,
.darliut.”
Would .you like to subscribe for Dick-
I Household Words ?” inquired a soin
[ ■ magazine agent.
! 1“ Household words have played the
skcus with me long enough !” was the
■ling reply. The agent absconded.
* Well Annie, how did you get along
that stupid fool of a lover of yours ?
f y<su succeed in getting rid of him?”
jh, yes, 1 got rid of him very easily.
arried him, and have no lover now.”
y “—■■■ 1 1 - ■ ■■
, barber desired a groggery customer
3, one Sunday morning, who smelled
r’ ig of alcohol, to keep his mouth shut,
; be establishment would get indicted
seeping a rum hole open on Sunday.
uc Yankees assert that all their chil
\ are born geniuses, and to verify this,
• say that when a baby is not deeping
eating, it is rolling its eyes about
king bow to improve its cradle.
le horse ‘warranted to stand without
L <■,’ which a man bought at auction, is
f jd for sale by the purchaser, with the
anty that ‘ he will not move without
|j ping-’
fcodigal.s are persons who never learn
ifferencc between a sovereign and a
** pence until they want the latter.
CUTHBERT REPORTER.
V <% •> vis.
iToln the Boston Olivo Branch.
Nellie Cliftou.
“ Don’t cry, Nellie, don’t! You sltall
not be Frank Gray’s wife; and he is a
bad boy to say sol’’ said the indignant
child, as he drew the little girl’s hand
within his own, and led her away.
“ No, Eddy, 1 will not be his wife, I
will be yours 1” replied the child, earnest
ly*
“So you shal., Nellie, so you shall;
and 1 will love you, oh , so much;’’ added
the boy, as he threw his arms about her,
giving her a warm, childish kiss.
“ But do you know, Eddy,” continued
the little girl, “ that he says I must not
love you, because your papa is poor, and
does not keep a carriage, and does not
have everything, as his papa does? But
I do not care for that, Eddy, for he is a
bad boy and you are good. And Ido not
care if your papa is not rich. He is a
good papa, and you lore him, so I will
love him, to ; *.”
“ Yes, Neilie, he is a good papa,” said
the boy, thoughtfully. “ But may be
your folks would not like him; for lie is
not rich like them, nor Mr. Gray. And
maybe they will not love me, either. —
Did you ever ask them, Nellie ?”
“ No,” answered Nellie, “ X never ask
ed them; but l know they will, for they
love all that I do, always. So do not
look so sad, Eddy,” and she kissed away
his quick falling tears; “when I grow up,
and you are a man, 1 will ask them, and
they will let me be your wife, 1 know they
will.”
Poor child! she had yet a lesson to
learn.
******
“ Yes, Nellie, I shall sail to-morrow,”
said the young man, gazing tenderly up
on the little, trembling hand which he
held within his own. “I cannot be idle
in tins great business of life. Besides,”
added lie, sadly, “ I am poor; and the
poor fare hardly, 1 must be rich, Nellie;
1 must have a position in the world; I
must win you. With this object in view,
labor will be sweet. Only promise me
that you will not forget me—that you
will think tenderly of me, and pray for
me in my absence, and 1 go willingly.”
The young man spoke softly but earn
estly to the gentle girl-beside him. An
swer he needed none, for her head fell up
on his bosom, and tears spoke what words
might not utter
Yes, go now, Edward Tlcrrey, for she
has promised there, in the calm twilight
hour, and in the presence of the sainted
ileiul, sleeping quietly in the churchyard,
to be yours —yours forecer. Go now,
with a strong, manly heart in your bo
som ; for Nellie Cliftou remembers her
vow.
******
“And I am once more at home, Nellie,
once more with you 1” and the tears,
which had scarce moistened his eyes for
a twelvemonth of his absence, now fell
lrcely, in his great joy.
“And I am so glad you have come,
Edward —so glad; for I have sorely been
tried in your absence—sorely tried.”
“ V\ hat? tell me what, Nellie, that my
arm may protect you,”. said the strong
man. “Trouble shall not come to one
like you. Let me defend you.”
“ Frank Gray has sought me for his
wife, Edward, even as in our childish days
he so often told me he would do. He
has followed me and importuned me till* I
am wearied; wearied almost past endur
ance But 1 will never be his wife, nev
er, never!” and her voice was firm, and
her eye flashed earnestly as she said it.
“ 1 hank you, Nellie, my own dear Nel
lie!” said the young man, warmly embra
cing her. “Even as you promised in
childhood, you shall be mine, all mine.—
Oh, Nellie, what joy will be ours! But,”
asked he, after a moment’s pause, “ does
your father know aught of his proposals?
If lie did, would he not urge you to
accept them? Frank Gray is rich ; l am
but a poor sailor,” and his voice faltered.
“My father knows nothing,” answered
Nellie. “ But if lie did, could he bid me
wed one whom Ido not love? Could he
bid me give my hand to one when my
heart is with another? Oh, no, Edward,
he could not do it—he would not! And
yet he so values wealth—if—” and tears
revealed what she dared not utter. Poor
Nellie! Life’s lessons come slowly.
* * * * * *
“Once more I leave you, Nellie, dear.
But soon I shall have a position in the
world, and claim you as my own. This
voyage I go as mate; the next, I hope, as
captain, Oh, Nellie, I rejoice in this,
because it will so soon give you to me!”
and the young man, who had a moment
before stood proud and erect in the
thought of his promotion, now bent low
to kiss the face that leaned so lovingly
on his breast. “ But ere I go, Nellie,
promise me once more that you will be
mine— only mine! On this Bible swear
it!” continued he, earnestly, taking a
small volume from his pocket. “It was
the gift of my dying mother, and has nev
er left me. lu all my jourucyings it has
NO PROSCRIPTION FOR OPINIONS’ SAKE.
IIIIEUT, GA., AUGUST 16, IS.IG.
‘t and a solace. Upon this
‘enew oiir vows, ’while her
s l m ” >ver and blesses us.”
Aga Wt.j the vows uttered. Again
the paituigwords were spoken; but with
hearts full of love aud hope, they looked
Jot ward to the luture, and it gave them
peace.
Noiily the gallant ship speeds on her
course. Proudly Edward Hcrvey paces
her deck. Soon, oh, soon, he will be her
master, and Nellie Clifton his wife.—
i his thought cheers him by night and by
day in tire calm andiu the storm. God
help thee, proud dreamer! Thou too
art learning life’s stern lessons.
******
“ Oh, Nellie, say that it is false—that
you are not his wife—that—”
“But, Edward, I am his wife—his
wife; and you must leave me. Duty to
my husband demands it. Go!”
And lie did go, he eared not whither.
Ambition, energy, hope, love, nil had died
out within him. He resigned his office of
captain, and took passage for a distant
land. To all on board he was a stran
ger, and none knew the grief that was
fast wearing out his life. lie was reck
less of this, of health, and of everything;
and ere the voyage was ended, fell ill and
died. At his own request, they buried
him at sea, though within a few days of
land. He felt there was more room
more room for his poor, bleeding
heart to bury its woes.
Ask you why Nellie was false to her
tw ? It was the old story. Wealth
triumphed. Her father bade her forget
the poor sailor, and wed the wealthy suit
or In time, too, the splendor dazzled
her; and ere the three years of Edward’s
absence had expired, she became a wil
ling bride. True, she did not love Frank
Cray, but his wealth would atone for all.
Besides this, her father bade her wed
him, and when did she ever disobey him ?
Not then, not then. And Nellie Clifton
became Sirs Gray.
” e will not ask her future. But too
well may we know it; for such tragedies
are daily taking place among us. All ti e
smiles we see are not real; all the seem
lug happiness not of the heart.
Oh! woman, woman! when wilt thou
be true to thyself, and through thyself to
all whom thou meetest in thy life pil
grimage ?
Profane Swearing.— The Christian
Advocate, published at Buffalo, reads the
following homily on profane swearing,
.vhich may not be read unprofitably in
this latitude—no, nor in any other.
“ Profane swearing is an indulgence of
so base a passion, and so unbecoming, so
undignified and grovelling, that we are
surprised that the man who attaches the
least respectability to himself will practice
it. It is unmeaning and insensible. ‘I he
man who damns himself and fellow being
a hundred times a day, does not mean a
word of what he says. If he did, he would
be considered a fool or a heartless vidian,
A gentleman in town, and one who
moves in respectable society among us,
aud who possesses fine in tell actual attain
ments, the other day lowered the dignity
of his being by a glibness in profane
swearing, which We thought would be*-
cornea lower order of mind than him
self. If men will swear, let it done by
those who have no affinities with the re
spectable, moral, and decent in society.
The father swear before his children,
the husband swear before his wife, the
gentleman swear in the presence of the
lades! We never saw a gentleman that
would swear at all 1 There are those who
swear, nevertheless.”
An Unfortunate Rooster.— There
arc objections to Shanghais, no doubt,
but we had never thought of this, which
we copy from the Knickerbockers
Mr. S —, an old resident In Stillwa
ter, on the upper Hudson, introduced
among his family of hens a few Shang
hais, including a rooster of formidable
dimensions, who had “run to legs” a good
deal. His crow was peculiar, and easily
distinguished from the other cocks. One
morniug he had waited to hear a repeti
tion of the usual summons, after being
aroused by the “ shrill clarion” olice
sounded, but he heard it not again. The
pre-eminent chanticleer was still. Mr.
S. went out to see what caused the si
lence. He found the rooster lying on his
back with both legs out of joint. After
an examination, he set both legs; the
cock walked off and gave vent to his sat
isfaction in a lusty crow. In the very
act he dropped as if he had been shot.—
He had crowed his 4 legs out of joint
again! He was kept three or four days
and then killed. “It was too much trou
ble,” said Mr S, “to set him up every
time he crowed.”
An Old Bachelor’s Toast.— “ Our fu
ture wives—Distance lends enchantment
to the view.”
An Old Maid’s Toast.— “ Our future
marriages—Consummations devoutly to
be wished for,”
ittisccllancous.
Terrific Jtnlloou Ascension.
“ You are about to witness Monsieur
G.’s ascension,” said a gentleman to me,
as I entered the enclosure devoted to the
aeronautic disylay. He was an entire
stranger to me ; but not being supersti
tious in matters of etiquette, as we might
suppose “a gentleman of distinction” to
be, I did not object to this brusque mode
of introduction, and so civilly answered,
“Yes.”
“ But I shall go farther to see it than
you will,” continued the gentleman. “I
intend to ascend with Mono. U.”
“ Ybu may go farther and fare worse,”
said I.
“ You are pleased to be witty,” said
lie ; “ but I intend to make some exami
nations of those tipper regions for my
self—to -ascertain whether the stars ce
lestial are on dtity during the day, or
whether theirs is ks much a sinecure as
the office of our “stars” terrestial.—
Would you like td ttsccud with lis ?”
“ No, thank yon kindly,” said I. “In
getting into the clouds one might lose
oneself—the Way is likely to be mist
Every one to his taste; the earth has
such charms for mo that 1 would not ex
change a spadeful Os it for cubic miles of
the blue empyrean. lam no poet.”
Vain declaration ! How little did I
imagine the horrors which awaited me!
How little did 1 foresee my dreadful fate
in hanging between the heavens and the
earth, a spectacle to laughing men, gig
gling women,and insensate, hooting boys!
We entered the enclosure. There was
the vast silken bubble, puffing otU its
hollow cheeks like the face of a fat clown
when laughing, and rising and tugging
away at the ropes, as if impatient to IcuVj
our society.
“Von will accompany me?” said my
friend; to which 1 replied in the negative.
“ Perhaps the gentleman would assist
in cutting the ropes,” said the aronaut,
in French, Which, singularly enough, 1
understood at that moment, though I ne
vet‘ before or since ventured to exhibit my
knowledge.
“ Certainly, with pleasure,” said I.
“Thank you,” said the airouuut; “ bP
pleased to take your station ”
lie and my fricmd entered the ear. T
grasped one of the ropes and awaited the
order. In a moment it came.
“ Cut!” said one voice. “ No, hold
on! ’ said another.
I was bewildered, and did both. When
the others cut I did the same, and with
the direction to hold on, I grasped the
end of the rope still near me and “ held
on.” In a, moment more 1 was fifty feet
from lie ground!
Imagine my suspense. There was I,
like a freshly caught fish, dangling at the
end of a line, with the balloon represent
ing the float. 1 cried out to my friend
and the aeronaut, but in vain. The spec
tators below, thinking I was some serial
acrobat, who was about to turn fifty dou
ble somersets and then alight upon his feet
before them, cheered sufficiently to drown
my voice. The parties in the car could
not see me—but by the hat which swung
occasionally over the side, 1 knew they
were bowing to the crowd below. Mean
while, 1 was swinging like a pendulum
below them, with only ten fingers to sus
tain the weight of one hundred and eigh
ty pounds, (I am father stout) and to
preserve me from being thinly spiead over
the ground beneath, from “ larding the
lean earth” with my human form divine
What an age of terror! The dome of
St Paul’s became a parasol; men became
nine-pins} and line gothic churches began
to look like chicken coops
In the meantime roy fingers were stif
fened, but I clutched the rope with an
energy of despair. I had long ceased
calling; 1 had exhausted myself. Sud
denly a cold perspiration broke out upon
me; I knew my hour had come. My fin
gers were slowly slipping down the rope.
Oh, those apf-nizing moments! Inch by
inch I approached my doom! First the
left hand lost its hold; and then I felt the
end slipping by the little finger of the
right, 1 gave one brief prayer, and sell—
out of bed!
Being, as I before observed, a corpu
lent man, my fall had shaken the whole
house, and the alarmed inmates, aroused
from “sweet slumbers,” were knocking
violently at the door, which had the effect
of restoring me to consciousness, when I
discovered that my “ terrible balloon as
cent’ was nothing more than a nightmare,
superinduced, 1 am led to believe, by the
festivities usual on the Fourth of July;
and allow me to tell you, dear reader,
that such a shanghai dinner as we hud an
this occasion, is not to be sneezed at.
What makes a youi g man and
woman fall in love?” “ Because one of
’em has a heart of steel, and t’other has
a heart of flint: and when they come to.
gather, they strike fire, and that is love.’’
Some slanderer asserts that paper ma
kers are the greatest magidaus of the
age, inasmuch as they transfer beggars’
rags into sheets for editors to lie on.
A YaiiKec Shoemaker.
‘ You haiu’t no occasion for a jour nor
nothin’, 1 spose,’ said a jolly sou of St.
Crispih from tire land of Vvoodeu nutmegs,
as lie entered a shoe establishment with
his kit nicely done up in his apron.
1 Wonder if I huin’t* was the reply of
the boss. ‘Why, 1 should like a dozen it
I could get ’em ; hut What kind of a shoe
can you make ?’
‘On, as to the matter o’ that,’ said the
snob, 1 1 reckon ns hoW I can make a de
cent, sort of a craft.’
‘ Spread your kit, then,’ said the boss;
‘l’ll give you a pair to try, and if your
work suits me, I enn give yon a steady
seat of work.’
Crispin Was soon hammering aud whist
ling away, as happy as a clam at high
water, and the boss was called away on
some business which detained him two or
three hours* rrtealiwliilc, the jour had pro
duced a thing which bore some .faint re
semblance to a shoo, and feeling somewhat
ashamed of it, hid it in a pile of leather
chips that lay on the floor, and proceeded
to make another, which he had barely
time to finish, when his employer entered
and began to examine it.
‘ Look here, mister,’ said he, ‘I guess
you needn’t make the mate to this; it is
the greatest botch that was ever made in
my shop, that’s a fact.’
‘ P’raps you’d like to bet a trifle on
that,’ said the snob.
‘Bet!’ responded tlic boss; ‘why, I’ll
bet a ten dollar bill against a hand of to
bacco, that those never was a shoe made
in this shop half so bad as this.’
‘ Done,’ said Crispin, at the same time
casting a sly wink at hisshopmates; ‘but
stop, let me see if I’ve got so much of
the weed about me. Oh, yes, here’s a
whole hand of Cavendish,’ and laying it
on the cutting board, lie ventured to sug
gest the propriety of having the suet-skin
laid alongside of it, which was no sooner
done than lie proceeded to draw from its
hiding place the other shoe.
‘ Here, boss,’ said he, ‘you must decide
the bet; say, which of the two shoes is
the worst ?’
‘ ‘Veil, [ guess I’m fairly sucked in this
time,’ replied the boss, pushing die Cav
endish and shin-plaster towards (lie right
ful owner, and throwing a ninepcnce to
! die youngest n.ppi entice Tho b y hood
ed no further instructions as to his duty,
but was off in the twinkle of a bed-post,
and soon rcouriled With a quart of black
strap. Alter all hands had sufficiently
regaled themselves, tho shrewd Yankee
put his sticks together, and bidding the
boss a hearty good-bye, started again on
a tramp, very well satisfied with his fore
noon’s work.
Jiiidul Thoughts.
I have speculated a great deal upon
matrimony. J have seen young and beau
tiful women, the pride of gay circles, mar
ried as the world says—well Some have
moved into costly houses, and their friends
have all come and looked at their furni
ture and they have gone away and eoni
mited them to their sunny hopes chccrfu
ly and Without fear. It is natural to be
sanguine for the young; at such times I
am carried away by similar feelings. • I
love to get unobserved into a corner, end
watch the bride in her white attire, and
with her smiling face and her soft eyes
blessing me in their pride of life, weave a
waking dream of future happiness, and per
suade myself that it will he true 1 think
liovv they will sit upon the luxurious sofa
as the twilight falls, and build gay hopes,
and murmur in low tones the now not
forbidden tenderness; and how thrillingly
the allowed kiss, and the beautiful en
dearments of wedded life, will make even
their parting joyous, and liovv gladly they
will come back from the crowd and the
empty mirth of the gay, to each other’s
quiet company.
I picture to myself that young creature
who blushes even now at his hesitating
caress, listening eagerly for his footstep as
the night steals On, aiid wishing that he
would come; and when he enters at last,
aud with an affection as undying as his
pulse, folds her to his bosom, 1 can feel
the tide that goes flowing through the
heart, and gaze with him ort the graceful
form as she moves about for the kind office
of affection, soothing all his unquiet cares,
and making him forget even himself in hci
young and unshadowed beauty.
I go forward for years, and sec her
luxuriant hair put sobcily away from her
brow, and her girlish graces resigned into
dignity, and her loveliness cbustcned with
the gentle meekness of maternal affection.
llcr husband looks on her with proud
eye, and shows her the same fervent love
and delicate attention which first won her;
and her fair children are grown about
them, and they go on full of honor and
untroubled years, and are remembered
when they die.—[Washington Irving.
best thing to give your enemy
is forgiveness; to your oppouent, toler
ance; to a friend, your heart; to your
child a good example; to s father, defer
ence; to a mother, eoudia’ct that will make
her proud of her sou.
BYRD WHITE, Publisher.
VtURSIi E.
A Novel la .Tames’ Style.
A writer in the Knickerbocker gives tlm
following us tin; opening chapter of anew
romance called “Geonle, Or the King’s
Pei, by G. 1\ 11. q. A. James:
“ It was near midnight, towards the
close of the afternoon on a sultry morning
in Deeeftiber, 18—, previous to the revo
lution of the last war, when the burning
moon was setting in me eastern sky,casting
a brilliant shadow upon gorgeous clouds
which entirely Obscured the firmament; &
the unclouded sun was sending down its
noonday beams with an intensity of heat,
like the shrieking of heavy thunder thro’
the deep mountain gorges of the wester i
prairies.
“ Lovely, indeed, was the sound of such
a spectacle to the feet of the weary trav
eler, for three feline monsters of the deep
were just gathering together for their
evening meal, and separating, erb the sun
was risen, for the sports of the chase, and
all things betokened a response too deep
for utteranc
“In the ensuing autumn, about two
years previous to the above mentioned
merry catastrophe, two pedestrians might
have been seen riding on horseback in a
three-wheel carriage up the brow of a for
est, which had been cut down before the
trees had begun to take root, and engag
ed in eating their evening dinner by tho
road side in the arras of Morpheus. The
eldest of the three gentlemen wasayoimg
lady of about fifty-three, and about two
years younger than the other man Which
latter gentleman was from the manner in
which she addressed him, evidently her on
ly and youngest daughter,
“ I he remainder of hot dress consisted
of two pair of pantaloons, neatly buttoned
round the tops of her ears, and elegantly
attached by a golden strap Os Unwoven silk
to the axle-tree of the middle-aged gentle
man’s horse.
“The third individual, last mciHidncd,
was an old gentleman of about twenty-two
whose venerable features disclosed the
livid hue of the Siberan negro. Mis bald
hea l was profusely Covered with long sil
ver locks of sandy jet, an 1 which ho had
cviduiidy lost duhng a severe attack.of
s m-sickucss, caught from the next doer
neighbor, who resides several blocks from
him in the country. His also was richly
attired in a Worn out fro k-coat which
was secured by straps under his boots.
“lie had lost Loth arms just ahovo the
collar bone, and was constrained to tt Citr
crutches, this, added to his total blinducs.4
rendered him an object of general admira-’
tiou.”
The Star Spangled Rammer.
If the French hymn of Liberty, tho
Marseillaise, was composed under excit
ing circumstances, the Star Spangled
Banner was inspired by events no less pa
triotic, by our distinguished countryman,
Mr. Francis Scott Ivey, an able and elo
quent lawyer, ah accomplished gentleman,
a man of noble and generous impulses.—
During die war with the British, in 1814,
Mr. Key was residing in Baltimore, and
hearing of the detention of a dear and
intimate friend, lie started to obtain his
release, lie went as far as the mouth of
the I’atapsco river, which enters the
•Chesapeake Bay, and is about eighty-five
in les north of the Potomac river. Here
he was arrested and Carried on board a
British maii-of war belonging to the Brit
ish licet stationed opposite Fort Mel I or’
ry, the bombardment of which he was
compelled to witness. The English Ad
miral boasted before Mr. Key that l.e
would take the Fort in a few hours, anu
the city of Baltimore within the two suc
ceeding days. The bombardment contin
ued during the whole day and following
night, w ithout making an impression eith
er on the strength of the Works or the
spirit of the garrison.
Our patriotic countryman stood on the
deck, watching through the smoke which
sometimes obscured it, tjie banner of free
dom waving from the Fort. At length
night cuuie, and he could see .it no more;
Still lie watched, until the dawn began
to bring objects around into distinctness.
With boating heart he turned towards:
the Fort, and there, waving in the morn
ing breeze, high atid uninjured, was the
banner, with its stars and stripes, the
banner of freedom and independence, then
in its early days. It was at this moment
if joy and triumph that Francis Scott
Ivey composed the “ Star Spangled Ban •
ucr ”
After Mr Key had been liberated, ami
the British had retired front Fort Mr
llonry without again attempting the at
tack on the city of Baltimore, he comple
ted his patriotic hymn, which was enth
Plastically received then, and lias on :*
been considered ns one of the national
soups of our country
At Washington, Mr. Barton Key, tL-’
sou of Mr.Scott Key,(who diediu 181” i
was present, with many Senators, and ail
the distinguished society of that ci’.\ t
when M'lle .Pai'odi and Mdme. StrakoM-li
repeated, amidst thunder* of applans
and waving of handkerchiefs, this inspir
ed verse, and he was most deeply moved
by the homage to the memory of his la
ther’s genius.