Georgia telegraph. (Macon, Ga.) 1844-1858, August 26, 1845, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text<1 is THE} GEORGIA TELEGRAPH AND REPU OLIVER H. PRINCE. —PUBLISHED If EEKL Y— Editor & P r o p r i et o r. jygW SERIES—VOL. I. NO. 47. T MACON, TUESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 26, 1845. WHOLE NU 9 Q " oD. ffElECHfcArHI &;ftEPVBHC, .. PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY MORNING, by o. h. prince, VT THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM, jyVAiUABLYJ-N ADVANCE ADVERTISEMENTS ore inserted nl !?l OO per jre for tlie first insertion, and 50 cents per square for ded^Soiii will be made to those who adver- “'i5?N h l». yC S3 r i’cs of LANDS, by Administrators. Excco- Vor liu»rdians. arc required by law. to be held on the ‘•’".'Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten tu the Moon, and three in the afternoon, at the Court-house, j,renoon. ( Js sltuatc a. Notice of these *[‘2be given in a public gazette SIXTY DAYS pre- * ■ ... io the day of sale. ,.. ’’a irs of NEGROES must bo made at a public auction fir , t Tuesday of the mouth, between the usual h jure * i e ji the plane or public sales in tho county where the .J.r.'nt testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, hare been granted, first giving SIXTY DAYS notice 'weof in one of the public gazettes of this State, and at the *^ e f’,he Court house, where such sales are to he held. Notice ferThVaate of Personal Property must bn given in Notice t r 0 j> TY previous to tbeday ofsale. ‘NoTire W the Debtors and Creditors of an estate must be published FORTY ‘JM 3 ' ... be ma( j e t o the Court of Or- I-AND, must be published fur POUR MON rHS. jjBQaOES must be published ar^OUR MONTHR b«dh«s iny order absolute shali be m t a tI ©55*1 for leueMofAdminhtration, mnstbe publish- Pall ia vi'-for dismission from administnuion.monfA- fn"‘month-fa dismission from Guardianship, forty ^ Rni ss for die foreclosure of Mortgage must be published *° t U. forfo*r months—for establishing lost papers./or of three month,-Cor compelling titles from KueeWetfor Administrators, where a Bond has been given ? u .lrreased the full space of three months. ^Publications will always lie continued according to these, .hf Uni requirements, unless otherwise ordered. TTANCB3 BY MAIL.—‘A postmaster may en- , 11 ..'tv i„ a letter to the publisher of a newspaper, to p, # »the i.ilisoription ofa thinl person, and •>«'■£ > he letter if t'rh.ea by hi.nself-Awo" Kendall, P. M. G. 9 POETRY. From Godty’t Magazine ■THE EMPIRE OF WOMAN. BI IU. SARAH JOSKrifA IIA LX. I. WRXAN’s EMPIRE DEriNED. The oatward world, for rugged toil design'd. Where evil from true good the crown hath riven, Has been to man's dominion ever given; Rot woman's empire, holier, more retined, [mind. Moulds, moves, and sways the fullen but God-breathed Liftirg the earth-crushed heart to hopeand heaven: As clasts put forth to summer s gentle wind. And neath the sweet, soft light of starry even. Those treasures which the tyrant winter s sway Could never wrest from nature, so the soul Will woman's sweet and gentle power obey— Thus doth her summer smile us strength control; Her love sow (lowers aiong life’s thorny way; Her star bright faith leap up towards heaven s goal. II. THE DAUGHTER. The iron cares that load and press men down. A fathergan. like school-boy tasks, lay by, When gazing in his daughter a loving eye. Her soft arm. like a spoil, around him thrown: . The ossa iocs that, like Upas leave., have grown Most deadly in dark places, which defy £artb, heaven, and human will—even these were shown All powerless to resist the pleading cry Which pierced a savage but a father's car And shook a soul where pity's pulse seemed dead: When Pocahontas, heeding not the fear Tli.il daunted boldest warriors, laid her head Baaide the doom'd! Now with our country s fame, » «.tforest* daughter, we have blent tiiy name. IH. THE SISTER. Wild a» a coll, o’er prairies bounding free. The waken'd spirit of the boy doth spring. Spurning the rein authority would fling, Ami striving with his peers for mastery; But in the household gathering let him see His sister's winning smile, and it will bring A change o'er all his nature; patiently, A.caged bird, that never used its wing. He turns him to the tasks that she doth share— His better feelings kindle by her side— Virions of angel beauty fill the air— Ami she may summon such to be lus guide, Cor Saviour listened to a sister’s praytr ; . , When, “Lazarus, from the tomb came forth, he cried. IV. THE WIFE. The daughter from her father’s bosom goes; The sister drops her brother's clasping hand— For God himself ordained n holier band Than kindred blood on human minds bestows: That stronger, deeper, dearer tic she knows. The bearl-wed wife; ns heaven by rainbow spsnn d; Thus bright with hope, life’s path before her glows— Proves it like a mirage on the desert s sand; Slill in her soul the light divine remains; Ami if her husband’s strength be overborne By sorrow sickness, or the felon's chains S .eh ashy England’s noblest sont were worn— Unheeded how her own poor heart is torn, She. angel like, his sinking soul sustains, V. THE MOTHER. Earth held no symbol—had no living sign To image forth the mother's deathless love; And so the tender care the rtihteous prove Beneath the ever-watching eye divine, _ Was given a type to show pure that shriue— The mother’s heart—was hallow’d from above; And how her mortal hopes must intertwine With hopes immortal; ami she may not move From this high station which her Saviour sea'ed, When in maternal arms he lay revealed. Oh! wondrous power, how little understood, Entrusted to the mother's mind alone— To fashion genius, from the soul for good— inspire a \Vesi4 or train a Washington I •See the splendid painting, “Baptism of Pocahontas,' at the cs pilot. t Lar.l William Russell. »"Mj mother's kiss made me a painter,” waa the testimo ny of this great trtist. BETTER MOMENTS. BT 1». r. WILLIS. My mother's voice! how often creeps Its cadence on my lonely hours 1 Like healings sent on wings of sleep. Or drew to the unconscious flowers. I cannot forget iter melting prayer While leaping pulses madly fly, Bnt in the ettll, unbroken air, _ Her gentle tones come stealing by— And years, and sun, and manhood flee, And leave me at my mother’s knee. 01 Jf * » v fix Jveart is harder and pcrhapi. -My manliness bath drank up tears; ikml there’s a mildew in the lapso Ofa few miserable years. Hut nature's look is even yet Witlt nil my mother’s lessons writ. j Jj*v© been out at eventide Beneath a moonlight sky of spring. When earth was garnish’d like a bride, ' And night had on her sUver wing— And when the beautiful spirit there Flung over me ita golden chain My mother's voice came on the air Like the light dropping of the ram— And resting on some silver star The spirit on a bended knee, J’ve pour’d out low and fervent prayer Thai our eternity might fc<s . To rise In heaven,like stars at night, And tread a living path of light. 'OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 1 A blind old beggar, with his hat in hand, Neglected by the busy passers by, I noticed shyly at the corner stand. With moisture falling from his sightless eye. A child csineby—a laughing little creature— With joy and innocence in every fenture, Skipping forth gaily to an npplo aland. She saw the beggar—and became less gay; Then flung the bit of ailver in her hand Into the old maq’s hat, and ran away. From the N. Y. Evening Mirror. IVILMS’S EETTERS FROM LONDON. SUMIIKR FOUR. Tower’s statue of Ihc Greek Slave —Great Western Rail- Road,—^Windsor castle Reading.—Miss Miutfnrd’a residence.—A rural subject for Mount the artist—Eng lish surliness.—New way of Advettising.—Illiberal con duct of Maerendy’a friends towards Mr. Forrest, e»c. etc. Mr Dear Morris.—I took the advantage of the long intervened between the packets of the 4th and 16th, to consign my precious com panion to the rural vicarage in the neighbor hood ofOxford, which is to be her future home. I am now in London alone. These two or three days of mental idleness have quite re stored my brain to working condition, I believe, and now let me see what I have to say lo you. Power’s statue of the “ Greek Slave” is one of tho topics of London at this moment, and, in my opinion, if it fare as well, as to preser vation, us the Venus de Medici*, it will be more admired than that first marble of the world, when London shall be what Rome is now.— Power should be idolized by woman for the divine type of her, by which she has now ele vated men’s ideal of the sex. That so won derfully beautiful a thing can be true to nature —that this divine mould is unquestionably like some women—is a conviction that must strike every beholder, at the same time that it makes him thank God that he was born one of this “kind” and makes him adore woman more in tensely than before. This Greek slave stands for sale in the Turkish bazaar. Her dress hangs over the pillar against which she leans, and she is nude with the exception of the chain hung from wrist to wrist. It is a girl of eigh teen, of beauty just perfected. A puiticular criticism of the figure and limbs would hard ly be interesting to those who arc not to see the statue, and I can only speak of the expres sion of the face, which is one that gives the nude figure a completo character of purity—a look of cairn and lofty indignation, wholly in capable of willing submission to her captors.— Power has secured by this work, I fancy, com missions enough for new works to fully occupy his time; It was bought by an Englishman who has been offered lour times the sum for it. If we are to believe one of the London critics the chief merit ofthe statue is due to Mrs. Trolope, who discovered Power’s genius when he was making wax figures in Cincinnati, and induced him to embrace the art and go to Italy. My trip to the country was made by the Great Western Rail .Road, which is the most complete in its arrangements, and send the fastest trains—two every day going their route at the rate of sixty mites in the hour. The scenery in this direction from London is ex ceedingly fine, Windsor Cosde lying on the left of the track, among other objects of inter est, nnd Reading, the fine old town, honored as the residence of Miss Mitfurd. Nothing in America can give you any idea of the expan sive elegance and completeness of the rail road stations, its hedgings in, and its arrangements of all kinds. Every foot of the rouic is watched by a guard in uniform, and no human being except workmen is ever seen within the limits. At every stopping place, the cars glide into spacious buildings; with magnificent refresh ment rooms, costly offices, and attendants in the lettered dress of the company’s men.— The system for admitting and discharg ing passengers is admirably complete, the de lay is but an instant, yet sufficient for all pur poses, and I should think ingenuity and order could no further go. A hundred delicious pictures glided under my eye in our rapid High', but I saw one tlmt I wished Mount the artist could have seen—thir ty or forty haymakers men and women, eating their dinner upon the edge of the stream, the field half-mown on which they had been work ing, and the other half completely scarlet with the poppies that overshadowed the grass. A thicket behind them ; a shoulder of a hill rising beyond it, and various other features made the mere rural scene singularly beautiful, hut the acres of this scarlet flnvcr, gave it somehow a peculiar and racy mildness. The farmer has no great aflec ion for this br lliunt intruder upon his land, but tho owner of the splendid park, and the scenery-loving traveller look on its novel addition to Nature’s carpet with a very vivid admiration. On my return I saw an instance of the Eng lish surliness so much talked of, and (I think) so seldom seen. A remarkably elegant and highbread looking lady was separated from her party for want of room in the car before us, and on getting into ours, she found herself opposite a manifest aristocrat of sixty. Think ing she recognised an acquaintance in him, she leaned forward with a charming grace of manner and said “Mr. , I believe ? ’—“Not my name, madam !” was the reply in gruff’re pulsion ; and the gentleman turned and looked very steadfastly out of the window. The English have a new way of advertising that is quite worthy of Yankee invention. They have hit upon the time when men’3 eyes are idle—(when they are abroad in the street)— and you cannot talk now in London without knowing what amusements arc going on, what new specifics are for sale, what is the last wonder, one! a variety of other matters which send you home wiser than when you came out. Mammoth placards, pasted on the side of the structure as large as one story house, are continually moving along on wheels at the same pace as you walk—the streets roally rc- resembiing a georgeous pageant with the num ber and showiness of these legible locomolives 1 observe one, particularly, which mwesby some mysterious power within—a large, showy car making its way alone, without either horse or visible driver, and covered with adver tisements in all tho colors of tho rainbow. An every day sight is a procession of a dozen men, in single file, each carrying on a high pole, exactly the same theatrical notice. You might let ove pass unread, but you read them, where there ore so many, to see if they are all alike ! Men step up to you at every cor ner and hand you, with a very polite air, a neat ly folded paper, and you cannot refuse it with out pushing your breast against the man s hand. If vou open it, you arc told where you can sec a “mysterious lady,” or where you can get your corns cut. In short, it is impossible to be ignorant of what there is lo sec and buy in London, nnd this applies also to the large class who could not, formerly, be reached, because they never read the advertisements m news papers. Possibly the carriers of these vehi cles might make a better use of their tune and horse-flesh in America, but otherwise I should think this a “notion” worth transplanting. Forrest is still in London, and has two pro ject* in view—one of playing in Paris, and another of a professional trip to St. Petrsburg. In either capital he would do better than in a place precluded, as London is, by Mucready and his crew. A genlleman in no way connect- ed with the drama told me that, on one of the nights when Forrest played, he sat next n man who confessed that he was paid for hissing him, and for calling any subordinate actor be lure the curtain to drown any call for Forrest ! 1 wish there was no disagreeable topics ; but 1 will try and avoid them in my next. Yours faithfully, N. P. Willis. number five. American Ministers at the court “of London—A formidable passage front an English newspaper—Two queen* and their royal husbamls—Leopold tie Meyer, tlie pianist A new opera by Wallace—Miss Kenney, Ac. Ac. My Dear Morris : It is more matter of re joicing to Americans abroad, than Congress supposes, when Foreign Ministers are the kind of men, in manners and mental culture to do credit to the country. Mr. McLean’s appoint ment as Minister to England is a worthy suc cession to that of Mr. Everett—two more ad mirable representatives are little likely to ap pear at the English court for any nation. I was dining a few days since with a former member of the Queen’s cab’net, and, in the London papers of that morning, Mr. McLe an’s appointment had been announced. Our host spoke of Mr. McLean, and afterwards of Mr. Everett, with a whole-hearted tribute to their qualities as men and diplomatists, that would have gratified the friends of these gen tlemen not a little; and indeed, wherever J go, Mr. Everett is lauded without measure.— He lias been in London in a trying time fora representative. Our national ciydit—lumped witliout distinction of States in one sweeping dishonor—has been like a visible cloud about him wherever he has appeared, and he has been waited on, of course, by committees on questions he could not answer without pain and moriificalion ; and, through all this, he has steadily risen in the respect of those around him, and now stands personally higher (so 1 was assured by one who spoke with authority,) than any diplomatic representative now at the English court. At another party I heard a very fine description given of the effect of his singular eloquence upon one of these commit tees. They had felt, in delivering what they had lo say, that they had placed him as the re spondent, in a position of overwhelming em barrassment. Ilis reply was wailed for with a sympathy for him as a man. From every one of these gentlemen, however, ho “drew tears,” (so the describer slated,) and they left his house enchanted with the man, if not more con’eist with what he had to offer on the part of his country, Surely the difference between such a representative and others who are capable of being sent abroad, is worth the country’s looking at aud influencing. The Morning Post of to-day contains Long man’s first advertisement of the English edi tion of my “Dashes at Life,” and in another column, is the following form’dablc passace. sbowiii" tlie humor in which anything Ameri can is likely to be handled. (It occurs in a re view of Mr. Rush’s book on England.) “There is so much in the American charac ter to excite the contempt and disgust of all upright and honest men, that we can scarce he excused for letting slip an opportunity of abu sing-them; but Mr. Rush so overwhelms us with bis courtesies, and so gratefully and hand somely acknowledges the splendid hospitalities with which he was received by the noble and wealthy “Britishers,” that wo must swelter un der our venom till some more fitting occasion for venting it.” What with Lockhart and Foublanque for a- vowed adversaries, (of old,) aud the corps of criticswhom Macready keeps for Ins uses, and who will now retaliate upon me, my having dissented from the homage paid in our coun try to this artificial actor, my Tales are ‘“put” as Falstaff says of his soldiers, “where they will bo well peppered !” May it make them sill ! I found myself in a friend’s box, the other night, at Braham’slittle dressy theatre, directly opposite two Queens and their royal husbands (the Queen of England, and the Queen of Bel gium) and so near, from the narrowness of the house, that I could see their several Majesties as well as at a presentation. I felt quite au thorized to level my glass at one, at least, of the Royal dames, lor a very beautiful country woman of my own being in our party, tlie King of the Belgians kept his gjass very ac tively bent in our direction. Ilis Majesty had the better view, but it was refreshing to see the ease and simplicity of tlie parly we loo ked upon, and the complete absorption of Prince Albert and the English Queen, in the off-hand humor of the French play. No person in the audi ence, it seemed to me, laughed so heartily as the Prince, and with bis gloyelcss bands over the ed"e of the box, and his unceremonious snalchup of the opera-glass in the Queen’s lap, occasionally, ho would not hove been ta ken for a man who was caring to appear ele gant, though he was appearing, to me, that which was much heller—natural. 1 he Roy al consort’s wide cheek bones are modified in the many drawings of him, which are publish- ed probably with a desire to remove his ve ry German look, tho Eugl slt physiognomy be ing certainly handsomer—but his features, in other respects, arc quite as regular as they arc drawn, and he improves upon tlie pictures of him when he smiles. There was one of the far ces, by the way, which was “by oxpie^s de sire” ordered, that is to say. by her Majesty, which was homely enough in its humor, to have pleased a backwoodsman. It is called “Lc l’oIrton,”un'J in the first scene, where the French actor gave an account of his being kick ed at the opera, describing it with a particular ity that would lie wholly inadmissible in Eng- lish, the Queen laughed most unboundedly. The lovers of music arc to have a luxurious gratification in Now Yotk. Leopold df. Mey er goes out by the same packet which takes this letter to you. Wallace, (who is tho best authority) told*me yesterday that dc Meyer was unquestionably the greatest pianist living. He is so considered in London now, where he lias just concluded a course of concerts, and I10 certainly looks something extraordinary, for a face morn full of the expression of genius, I have seldom seen. I have not yet heard him, his concerts having been given during my late illness, and 1 have only talked with him five minutes in the street—but I would warrant him great in anything he undertook, from the language in his very fine countenance only. Wallace is writing an opera to be brought Out nt Drury L ine next season. He has had great success this year in London. I saw, the other day, a show-bill of some concerts given lately in Germany, by Wallace, and “Miss Ed- warJu do Bolivia,” a young lady, who 1 under stand, has formerly been one ofthe favorite pub lic singers ofthe theatre at Naples, but who has meantime been travelling in the United States, and passed last winter at the Asior House, un der die name of Miss Kenney. I understand Ills fashion is passion, sincere and intense, If is impulses simple and true. Yet temper’d by judpinem, and taught by g«’od sense. And cordinl with me. and with you ; For the finest in manners, ns highest in rank. It is yon man! or yov, man ! who stand Nature's own nobleman, friendly and frank, A man with his heart in his hand! I predict that the author of these fine songs and of Proverbial Philosophy, will yet be one of the best known anti most loved authors whose books cross the water to us. , . ' The most refreshing and newest wonder of London, just now, is the ice “Lake M wham? she so “hid Iter light under a bushel'’ in Amer ica. We discovered her beauty and her accom plishments as a linguist, and a conversationist, but Mr Wallace alone had the secret of her being a theatrical star playing the incognita.— Miss Edwarda de Bolivia is now in London, 1 understand, and I trust I shall have an oppor tunity of judging of her dramatic powers. By the way, y«u may remember Wallace’s trip with tin's young lady to the West Indies, last winter, and the general supposition that they had gone thither to be married ! It was a pro fessional trip altogether, and they gave con certs in the Islands. Wallace was a married man, and his wife is still living in Ireland Yout friend Phillips has returned, and is warm, ly welcomed by the lovers of English singing. Yours faithfully, N. P. Willis. number six. The author of Proverbial Philosophy—Two new songs— English admiration of American Ice—A new luxury— Hint for a speculation—Miniature statues of Wellington and Napoleon—Studies for the lovers of horses—Por traits of Lord Lyndhurst, and Count D’Orsay—Wallack, Mis, Cushman, Mrs. itrougham and DeMeyer—The French Operatic Company from Brussels, Ac. My dear Morris—You may remember that some months since I became enamored of a book called “Proverbial Philosophy”—quoting from it in almost every article I wrote for the Mirror, and at last naming the author, and commend ing it to our readers as a treasure of sweet wis dom most curiously overlooked. The measure in which it was written was that of the Prov erbs ol Solomon, and it had all the well-chisel, led finish and complete truthfulness of n collec tion of time-worn sayings. I thought that it was probably an old book overlooked, or that the author was an old man who had passed his life in hoarding up shrewd apothegms, and had at last given them to the world in compact chapters. Great was my surprise a day or two since, on coming home to my lodgings, to find a card on my table bearing this author’s name—Mr. Martin Farquhar Tupper. I called on Mr. Tupper the next day with some curiosity—picturing to myself, however, a grey-headed patriarch, and preparing myself to treat him with proper reverence, and express very gratefully my sense of honor of his visit. I was shown into a very elegant library of well thumbed books, by a servant in mourning live ry, and after employing myself a few minutes in looking at the statuary and other marks of taste around me, enter a very young man with black curlings, twenty-seven at the utmost, ruddy and handsome, and with a manner boy ishly cordial! One draws his breaMi very long .A...,..; ... overturn or ills anticipations! 1 believe we have mndo for th's gentleman a large parish of enthu-iastic admirers, and I am quite sure that “ Proverbial Philosophy” is now treasured as h book, not inert ly to read, but to study and live with (after the manner of a vade-mecum,) by thousands of lovers of thought in our reading country. To these it will bo interesting to know, that Mr. Tupper has written several other delightful books, which I.shall send you, and which you can ex tract from, as I did from the other, till the pub lishers see fit to give you an American edition of them. I am not sure whether “ The Ccock of Gold” has not been re-published already, but “ Tho Modern Pyramid” has not, nor has “Geraldine, and other poems,” nor a smaller volume called “A Thousand Lines.” He has kindly presented these to me, and I shall give you some account of them as I read them. Mr. Tupper is a man of fortune and has a beautiful residence in the country as well as a house in town—caring little for tho profits of literature, and writing only to please himself. He is the most courageously natural man, in his manners nnd conversation as well as in his books whom 1 ever met with. Considering the aristocratic class to which he belongs to, this is much more a wonder, fie talks directly at the truth with no disguises, no heed of usages, no reserves, and no apparent dread of being misunderstood. His account for his reasons for writing his Proverbial Philosophy, (given ntc in ten minutes after we first met, but so con- nccted with his private life, that I could not re peat it,) was to my mind one of the most beau tiful instances of bold and frank simplicity pos sible to conceive. His mind follows no other man’s. It runs, as the French say, a trovers to every thing. How he preserves his originality is the miracle—though with secluded habits and the complete hedgings in of wealth and in dividual privacy in this country, lie is probably in the only place and circumstances in the world where it would long continue. You would like to see how Mr. Tupper writes in your own favorite style a stanza, my dear General, and I will close this notice by giving you a couple of his songs from “A Thou sand Lines:” NEVER GIVE UP. Never give up 1 it is wiser anil belter Always to Impe titan once to despair; Fling off tlte load of Doubt's cankering fetter, And break the dark spell of lyranical care: Never give bp! or the burthen may sink you— Providence kindly has mingled the cup, And in all trials or troubles, bethink yon, The watchword of life must be. Never give up! Never give up! there chances and changes Helping the hopeful a hundred to one. Aiid.tnrou?!' tbs chans. High Wisdom arranges gver success—if you’ll rnly hope on; Never give up! for the wisest is bnlJest, Knowing that Providence mingles the cup. And of all maxims the best and the oldest. Is the true watchword of Never give up. Never give up! though the grape shot may rattle, Ortho full thunder-cloud uveryou hurst, Stand like a rock, and the storm cr the battle Little shall haim you, though doing their worst. Never give up! if adversity presses Providence wisely has mingled the cup: And the best counsel,in ail your distresses. Is the stout watchword of Never give up. . NATURE’S NOBLEMAN. Away witlt false fashion, so calm and so chili, Where pleasure itself cannot please. Away with cold breeding, that faithlessly stilt, Affects to be quite at its ease; Far the deepest in feeling is highest in rank, The freest is fitst in the band. And nature’s own nobleman friendly and frank Is a man with his keartin his hand. Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just. He warmly can love and can hate. Nor will he how down with his face in the dust To Fashion’s tolerant state ; . For best in good breeding, and highest in rank Though lowly or poor in the land. In nature’s own nobleman, friendly and frank, The man with his heart in his hand. an innocent Massachusetts lnk« that, a jenr «>r two ago, had very liulo idra ol becoming a London lion. (How suddenly we do some times become famous to lie sure!) Beautifully painted carts, lettered “ YVenmaM Ice,” go about the city, and wherever they stop to take out a block, u crowd collcc’s, and there is no limit to cockney admiration of it. fometnit g of the kind was wanted from our country, by tlie way, to show that nature, at least, had not “repudiated.” But how they have dor e hitherto without icc, seems natural enough to ask. I just remember that we always drat k tepid wa ter in tlie summer timo at London, and that tlie hock anl champaignc: had never tlte recupera ting twang that del ghts the dry throat on tlie Polk side of the Atlantic. Now when the hock has been passed round after tlie soup—there is a general exclamation and discussion ofthe new iuxury, nnd the conversation commonly passes from that to “juleps” and “sherry ctbblers,” which are mysteries known by name and much inquired into. I seriously think that an Amer ican ‘bar’ set up at Charing-Cross, and furnish ing the thirty or forty drinks (of Brigham’s fa mous list in Boston) would be the making of the setter-up’s fortune. I have lost a golden opportunity of becoming a celebrated man, myself, by not being provided with an accurate recipe of the proportions. 1 stepped yesterday into Howell’s and James’s to see Count D’Orsay’s two “statues” —or miniature statues of the Duke of Welling ton and Napoleon. The Count, as an une qualled horseman, and the owner, for tlie li<st twenty years, of the finest “bits of blood” that money could buy, is of course, a better judge of a horse than most sculptors. The mud els are very different from most marble steeds.— Their showy points “are dwell upon,” so to speak. There is no point which is impossible in nature, and the truth probably is, that the Count has infused the principle of his own character into the idea he has here worked out —that others may stay safe, if they please, by following what is general nnd easy; he chooses to carry out that which is rare and just possi ble. They would be extraordinary horses in real life, because, though any one of their re markable points may have been seen, tlie com bination of so many perfections in one animal would be a miracle of beauty; and this is a very truedescriplion of the Count himself, and of his talents, as well as his person. The mod els are seen at a disadvantage, at present, be cause they are still in plaster, and tlie coarse ness of the material tells on statues so small.— They are to be cast in bronze very soon, and then they will be subjects of stud}’ for the lov ers of horse-flesh. The figures o 1 the two he roes are exceedingly good. I found no fault in them. I saw Count d’Orsay at Lady Blessington’s a few days ago. He retains his splendid beauty in undiminished pi’eservation. I looked at him, after so long an absence, and with much of the illusion of other days worn out of my eyes, to see whether I had not been dazzled into an undue admiration of bis personal ap pearance. Even ten years .after I recorded my surprise on first seeing him, however, I find him, still, by far, the handsomest man I ever saw, and if changed, changed for the bet ter, for itis loss of high colors adds to tlte intel lectual expression of his countenance. His manners have the same abandon which nobody could imitate, nnd which would be out of place iq any one hut d’Orsay or a King. His por trait, painted by himself, and now in the exhibi tion of the Royal Academy, gives scarce an idea of him, from the impossibility of putting his rova! manners upon canvass, and from his having really painted himself far less handsome than nature made him. This, and In’s portrait of Lord Lyndhurst, by the way, are two very fine specimens of the art, and artists think his promise very remarkable, both as a painter and a sculptor. His will bo a curious life to read of, if ever truly and competently written. YVallack was advertised to play “The Briga dier” last night at the Princess’s Theatre. I am fond of the character, and was very sorry that a dinner-party kept me from going to see it. Miss Cushman is still very popular at this threatre. Mrs. Brougham is playing there al so. Since I wrote that I had not heard De Meyer, I have been to a morning concert where he played. The enthusiasm in the audience was boundless. It was a concert of tho piano, rather than one player’*xperformance. He made the whole instrument “discouise most el oquent music” at once, and with no confusion. There were hut two or three men present, and some hundreds of ladies, and the clapping by the little hards was as loud ns in a c owded threatre. You will make much of him in A- mcrica, I think. I have been once in Drury Lane to see the pci formance of tlie French Operatic Company from Brussels. The best player, it was said, did not appear, though the Queen was present. Tliev were all middling, most middling, per formers. I thought, and I was accordingly bo red. The pit was vociferous in its applause, however, though probab’y very l.ttle of the French dialogue, half sung, half said, was un derstood by them. I will not lengthen this letter by touching on a nv other topic. Yours, faithfully, * N. P. WILLIS. NUMBER SEVEN. . July weather in London—Present wearable* J>r the t ior- ough-bred men of England-Frenrh and English fa.bmn* —Morier, the author ot Horn Baba exhibition American writers—National Literature 1 j- 0 . of Cartoons—Effects of a A rei»n Institute—The Countess Calabr Jla, ^ • My dear Mourns—-The summer is with you, I hope. With me in England, there has been little sign of it, except (he very elegant wh.te hat from Beebe & Coster, which with a contin uance of the present weather, is not likely to fulfil its destii y. It is too cold for white hat or w hito trowsers, and half the men in tlie streets of London, have worn overcoats through these two weeks of July. I, for one, go about in double flannels, and keep a fire for my com panion in my solitary room—not sorry to have an excuse for profiting by its companionuble- And, talking of hats, suppose I cater for ou r tltessy ftientis, by sending, you ft fefteron tho present wearables ol’ the thorough bred men of London 1 They will regret to know for ono thing that ichifc cravats, at dinner and evening parties, are as indispensable as they were fif teen years ago—qu to as lew people, as then, looking loleiaolo in them; or knowing how to tie them. I dined out in one yes.'i rdny, and, (till I forgot it in the conversations of a newly eelebrattd authoress, who sat on my left) I felt as if 1 had exchanged cravats with one of the. footmen. For a man who wears the whole of his beard, they are becoming, and therefore look wi ll on foreigners in London, hot the En glish stid persist in clean mouths and chins, and wear high shirt collars, which, with white cra- va’s, are execrable. Hats are no longer carried into the drawing room at part es, hut delivered to a servant be low stairs, who lickeis them, and gives the owners numbers by which they are to be called for. Hat-making is curiously deteriorated in England. The best dressed men wear abom inably iil-lookit'g ones, both as to shape and quality. 1 tun cherishing my black Beebe-&- Costar very carefully, but what with being caught every day in the rain, and knocking about in hacks and omnibusscs, L shall soon want another, and l commission you to send me, from aboriginal America, a hat to wear in highly civilized London ! And I should cer tainly send home for American clothes, were my wardrobe deficient. Yott would hardly get a clerk in Pearl-street to wear the scant, short-wnisted, tight-slcevt d coat worn by tho mounted dandy in Hyde Patk. Jennings should set uj> a branch of bis Broadway shop in Lon don, and send out one of his many cutters who makes your coat as large as you want it—a miracle never done, I believe-, till tlte advent of Carpenter in Philadelphia. It Englishmen were not by so much ti e fi nest figures of men in the world, they would certainly pass for tlte most ill-dressed. It is strange how tlie}' slick to their defective fash ions. Twelve years ago I marvelled at the scant coats, scant waistcoats and tight-legged trowsers of Englishmen, and they arc worn just so now. Happily this conservation is a type of their character, and they are just as constant to their friendships. 1 doubt whether there is an other country in the world where the stranger gees back, after years of absence, and finds bis welcome so completely unaltered. (Please not to smile at my premises and deductions!) 1 fancy that tlte extravagances of canes and fancy cravats of expensive satin, winch pre vailed in America for the last year or two, were borrowed by us from the French, and never “ob tained” in England. At least, 1 see no signs of them now. A gentleman, to be sure,lias al ways need of an umbrella, in this climate, and few people are to be seen without one, any day in the year; but, if lie carries a stick, it is a short common twig of white wood that costs a shilling, and no such thing as a cane is now seen in an evening parly. 1 doubt also whether our late fashion of long lmir is not copied from the French or exclusive ly American. You can hardly see a young man in Broadway whose bead is not skirted by a single hem, aiound the neck, made by llio curling tong of the. hair dresser, but thee ftemi- nancy would be looked on as rather “tigerish” in London. Short hair, with a very short whisker, boih very much brushed, is still tha fashion here as it was years ago, though I see imperials (which your country readers may re quire an explaining as a tuft on tlie under tip) becoming prevalent among (ho most dashing ot the street dandies. I breakfasted, or rather lunched ibis morn ing, at a very celebrated table, with some very charming and celebrated people. One of the guests was Morier, tiie author of “Hrtjji Baba,’’ a writer who delights me exceedingly in a book, and whose lips and manners are as graphic as bis pen. He is a stout, bald man, hale anil ruddy, perfectly at his ease in all society, and ready to supply the topic, or listen, as the occa sion calls for either. This is a kind of man, by the way, much prized in London—wholly umc- ’ cognized (ns to value) in America. 1 have oft en picked out one of the kind in New York, and smiled inwardly lo sec how his gold passed lor copper—but it is of no use lo burry civiliza tion. Our society, to use a homely figure, is a pudding as well mixed as that of England, on ly England’s pudding is quite baked, ours only half. 1 like to taste England occasionally, till ours is done. I had a little talk with Morier, on copyright. I told him that the English novelists, spite of our injustice to them, were “ dogs in the man- • ger.” No publisher would buy a novel from me, for instance, when they could get all his, and Bulwer’s, D’lsraeli’s, and every body’s else, for nothing. Tlie consequence is that American writers shrink from elaborate works, and spend their efforts on periodical writing, or do any tiling—follow any profession rath er than help the national literature; and starve. The question then came very naturally “ why does not Congress see this, and agree to mend 1 he obvious injustice by a proper copyright law V* Answer—because it would slightly raise the prices of literature, and short-s.gLtcd demagogues find excellent stuff for speeches m tho advocacy of “cheap books for the peojne. Result—that the people get no American boo ks, - nnd are impregnated exclusively by foreign writers, and with English and monarchal! pun- ciplcs! But this begins to read like an essay. There was one topic touched upon that will be interesting to artists. The Exhibition of cartoons opened yesterday, and some ol the company bad been to see them. I he Govern ment, in ornamenting the new Ileuses ol par liament. wished to know the value of fresco painting— whether it could bo successtully and effectively done by modern at lists. They, therefore, liberally offered prizes for the best crayon drawings for the ornament oi walls and ceilings, and the result has been more American than English—i. e. the “ new brooms have swept the cleanest.’’ Tht best arc decidedly by artists never before heard of. I t is so uni- vcrsftllv the case, in lliis conservutivc countiy, that a man must have been “ beam of-before before he is ever heard of, that for nameless ar tists to carry off these prizes is much ot a won der. I have not seen the drawings nnscli, but shall go to-morrow or next day. The moist climateis beginning to dolts usu al work on nte—that of relieving me of my ou ter skin, and permitting me .0 walk aoroad m an under one that more resembles the one I snorted in my youth. One gets so transparent England ! I trust to be quite “as good us new” in a fortnight more—having most iortu.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

Georgia telegraph. (Macon, Ga.) 1844-1858, August 26, 1845, Image 1