The Southern post and literary aspirant. (Macon, Ga.) 1837-1837, September 09, 1837, Image 2
social intercourse will be more
cheerful; and an innocent public
amusement will be furnished to
the community. Public amuse
ments, bringing multitudes toge
ther to kindle with one emotion,
to share the same innocent joy,
have a humanizing influence; and
among these bonds of society,
perhaps no one produces so much
unmixed good as music. What
a fullness of enjoyment has our
Creator placed within our reach,
by surrounding us with an atmos
phere which may be shaped into
sweet sounds. And yet this good
is almost lost upon us, through
want of culture of the organ by
which this provision is to be en
joyed.”
From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
CHIVALRY or the SOUTH.
There are some evils in our
country, which appear to be alar
mingly on the increase. Os this
character, we have long thought,
the perverted disposition which
shows itself in catching up and
circulating slanders and misrep
resentations against the people of
the entire South.
There may be rruinv causes op
erating to produce the spirit of
which we have spoken. Local
prejudice, the force of education,
sectional jealousy, doubtless com
bine ; but whatever are the cau
ses that produce the feeling, it is
as unjust to the people of the
South as it is ungenerous in those
residing in the regions where it is
exhibited.
Let us refer to a few cases in
point.
When some of the presses of
our country speak of “ Lynch
Law,” fa code of mobocracy)
they do so as if the peonle of the
entire South were the united orig
inators, supporters and defenders
of this odious rode. If the spirit
of mobocrarv rises superior to the
civil law, aud takes into its power
the execution of summary punish
ment upon a gang of Gamblers,
that seem to have defied all law,
human and divine, forthwith the
whole people of the South are set
down as trampling under foot all
human law, and rioting in the
'pod of those who have fallen in
a i; ament of exasperation, bv the
excited f*ew. Take the discovery
of the Morrill gang, and the de
tails of their atrocities, theft, kid
napping, murder, have been heral
ded forth as indicative of the ab
sence of all moral principle in the
vast maior : tv of society in the
South. Wh°n a duel takes place
—or a man is dirked with a How
ie knife—the most flaming ac
counts are painted, and the whole
people are c!ass n d as barbarians
and demons, whose vengeance
can only he satisfied bv reeking
and glutting in the blood of their
fellow men.
No man of intelligence, who
has had opportunity to learn the
character of the people of the
South, will for a moment give the
least countenance to so unjust a
charge. A vast majority of the
people of t 1 e South are as much
opposed to every violation ofeiv
ll or moral law, as were the peo
ple of New England to the burn
ing of the Convent onCharlestown
Heights, or the more recent des
truction of property in the swarm
ing dwellings, garrets and cellars
of Broad street, in Boston, within
gun shot of the Old Cradle ol
Liberty, where Warren, Hancock
and other immortal patriots of
the Revolution offered up 44 their
lives, their fortunes and their sa
cred honor,” to the holy cause
of human liberty.
There should, we grant be no
improper limits placed upon the
press, in opposing mobocracy,
licentiousness and misrule. It
should hold the acts of those who
take the law into their own hands
in utter execration. None, we
trust, will offer a more willing
hand than ourselves in this ser
vice. We have no love of riots,
of pistols, dirks, Bowie knives, or
kidnappers. All kinds, degrees,
or symptoms of mobocracy, vio
lence and outrage we deplore.—
When grievances exist, they must
be redressed by resort to common
law—else our free institutions are
endangered. Individual liberty
must for ever remain inviolate, or
we have receded from that price
less gem for which our forefath
ers threw' the tea into the Boston
harbour. But to foster the belief
that the people of the South, as a
body, countenance the disregard
of individual right, wink at the
use of the Bowie knife, and exult
in the prostration of good order
and good morals, we believe as
untrue as it is ungenerous. Hence
there should ! >e no countenance
w hatever yielded to the misrepre
sentations that are calculated to
produce such an impression of
the Southern character.
All who have had proper op
portunity to Icnrn the character
of the people of the South, will
declare that they are noble, gen
erous, chivalrous. The man who
passes in any region of the sunny
South, w ith claims of good char
acter upon bis side, is welcomed,
cherished and embraced- They
hail him in the bosom of their
family—amid the festive circle,
or around the altar of Religion.
No affectation of caste closes the
avenues to the social affections,
but the heart-felt greetings and
joyous smiles nre ns spontaneous
as the redolent fruit that sheds its
fragrance over her sunny climes.
(rt m-. rap r sg p(N l ?s opy W *
sv jL w \ « w •&. * w s* A
For tho Somnern Post.
(•2 ) THE SCRIBBLER.
EARLY CARRIAGES.
“ John Anderson, mv jo, John,
We clanih the hill thejjither.
And monie a cantie dav, John,
We’ve had \vi’ ane anither :
Now we tnaun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we’ll ffo.
And we'll sleep thegiiher at the'fit,
Ji)hn Anderson, my jo.”
It was a conation maxim among the
Athenians, that “ whom the Gods loved,
died voting!” Avery beautiful and poet
ical sentiment indeed : lmt it would he
much more pleasingly rendered—as well
as being nearer the truth, to suppose that,
“ whom the Gods love, marrv young dai
ly observation, as far as earthly happiness,
mnv he considered evidence of favor with
Heaven, proves this to lie a fact—like an
oracle of the ancient Uelyhos, it needs no
logic to convince. Its truth will be appar
ent as long as Earth shall annually remark
the flight of time ; and every year divide,
by change of season, into Spring in love
liness and hoary Winter ; or, as long as
blighting Age shall place his w ithering lin
ger on the brow of beauty, to trace his
name thereon. Philanthropists ! ye who
would benefit succeeding generations, and
ameliorate the future world, attend to this,
Nature’s most lovely precept —cncouYage,
instill into the minds of the rising genera
tion—this most happy doctrine of marrying
young—in the spring-time of life—eie in
clination has its bent, and uncongenial
habits are, perhaps, too firmly fixed. The
world, is all a vast hymenia! temple, its
living, growing, creation arc the subject
worshippers, and man is high-priest. It is
needful, therefore, he should bring “ the
firstlings of the flock” the freshest feelings
of the heart up to the Altar of Hymen, if
he would, like Abel, have his offering res
pected. How much more odorous is “ the
balmy breath of morn” than the sirocco
blast of dusty noon-day ; so has bloom
ing youth, more charms than ripened age.
We like to ramble in the saffron-tinted
morn oilKpring, in paths of fresh, new
opening flowers, inhaling from the grove
and mead “ ambrosial fragrance ;” but
who would roam at beaming summer’s
mid-day ? Each grateful zephyr, then—
ephemeral spirit of the dawn—has flown
for shelter to the genial bower of leafy
hough, and wedded,sun-protecting vine, or
lingers only in some cool, umbrageous
spot, where sleeping yet, the unawakened
dew-drops glitter on their mossy couch,
like polished diamonds : a lonely isle of
shade amid a burning sea. Life lias, alas!
no evergreen, no massy overhanging
hough of foliage, to preserve and shelter
from the scorching breath of time ; the
dew y charms of youth, save in the green
isles of the heart, the bowers of wedded,
mutual, verdant affection. Though age,
disease, deface and mar the forms of those
we love, yet retrospection fondly, each in
vests, each sallow cheek, each wasted
frame, in all the varying glow and purple
health of youth, the mangled limb, and
“ frosty prow,” are heeded not : we only
view them through the magic glass of ear
ly feeling, us we first knew them and be-
gan to love. Why not perpetuate these
earliest, purest passions of our nature, when
first we feel the glow of gushing, fond, af
fections. Love, budding in the young and
tender heart, finds there a rich and unex
austed soil, and comes to quick and full
maturity. In after-life the finer sensibil
ities of the soul are blunted ; care, world-
Iv interest, perhaps, and vice, may corrode
the very life springs of our love; satiety of
false pleasures and mockery of joy ; may
throw a leaden pall oyer, hermetically
sealing up the very fountain of our hearts.
Tho human heart is compared unto a ball
of heated wax, continually receiving
new impressions ; as it grows cold in the
chilling atmosphere of worldly influence,
the impressions upon it are fainter, fain
ter,until it becomes perfectly insensible to
any immediate impress, w hile the first up
on it are the deepest and have the greatest
hearing upon its actions and bias. Now
if two hearts are formed in the same mould,
grow ing up together under the same influ
ence, receiving the same impressions, im
bibing the same prejudices, forming like
propensities, habits, feelings, and motives
for action ; are they not more calculated
for one another, more fitted for reciprocal
enjoyment, than those foreign, entirely dis
similar. to one another in feeling and ac
tion ? Such united together, too often like !
foreign chemical substances, explode, or
gradually destroy each other—like fire
and water. When strangers of the oppo
site sexes meet, or are casually thrown in
contact, the natural desire is to please and !
j be pleased—accordingly thev exhibit their
i most winning, fascinating, manners. How
many an unfortunate female is there, who
charmed by the “ sweet, engaging ways.”
elegant exterior, and easv address of until
then, a stranger, has at last found herself
duped bv an accomplished scoundrel, and
is left alone to weep over “ fallen fortunes
and a broken heart.” How manv tales,
too, are there in daily circulation of a
Milford and her dupe ?* To he sure, one
hardly knows whom, in this selfish world,
one can trust with safety : hut, then, we
surely know most, concerning the temper
and disposition of those with whom we are
I brought up, as it were, from infancy ; who
j entered into the garden of existence with
us, and assisted to search out the rnosr
pleasant pathways, and flowery sports.
Marriage in early life, where love is the
basis, ensures a happy future. That beau
tiful Scotch ballad of “ John Anderson, my
jo,” pictures the latter part of such a life;
how supremely happy and contented the
“ auld couple” appear as she sings to him
in the verse heading this article :
“ And monie a cantie day, John,
We’ve had wi’ ane anithcr.”
Early life is a romanco—all is new—.
novel ideas, images and sources of delight,
are continually springing up around. How
sweet then, where there is so much dan
ger of going wrong, as first we launch our
fragile bark upon “ life’s stormy sea,” to
have some kind assisting friend to help to
pilot safe among the shoals and conflicting
currents ; to know, also, that one will at
least look up to us, and confide in us, thro’
good or ill report, and sympathize with us
in moments of joy or in grief, and “ dan
ger’s darkest hour,” and bear up half our
load of care and sorrow—to know,
“ There beats one heart wliich unto death will be
A gushing, glowing, fount of sympathy ;
One frownless eye to kindle with our own,
One changeless friend when other friends are flown. 0
MONTGOMERY.
“To keep one sacred flame
Through life unchill’d, unmoved ;
To love in wint’ry age the same,
That first in youth wc loved.” —moore.
If we wait until the summer is over and
gone, can we expect to gather much fruit ?
The roses of affection may not always
bloom for us ; the winds, the storms, mil
dew, “ the worm i’ the bud,” or age will
sooner or later rifle them of all their sweets,
and leave us but the withered pericarp to
pluck instead. Plants teach a lesson of
early love, and nodding in their bloom and
fragrance kiss each other, sending their
carrier silken-winged farinas laden with
sighs and honey-dewed kisses to each oth
er at vast distances. Early marriage is
sure to prevent dissipation and many of the
criminal indulgences, and worst vices,
which young people are apt to fall into :
Fathers !* do you w ish your sons to be hap
py in this life, and men of worth and stand,
ing in Society ? Marry them young! If
your son inherits wealth, it will teach him
to preserve it—if he is poor, it will present
him with a proper incentive, a continual,
laudable motive for amassing property ;
it will preserve his integrity, and keep hint
from bad and designing associates who
ever stand ready to make acquaintances
with, and draw the unwary from the paths
of virtue into the haunts of vice and folly
where they can rob them at their leisure
and transform them to such monsters in
iniquity as they themselves arc ; it will
prevent his getting into rows and drunken
frolics in the streets, at night, and keep
him at home a sober man and staid citizen ;
it will refine his manners : a man is of no
account in the world until he is married :
a single man is not even worthy of trust,
because he has no responsibility—nothing
to detain him in any particular place long
to form a character. Mothers ! do you
wish your daughters peace and content
ment through life ? Marry them young !
It will prevent the cankerworm of hopes
deferred, and the sourness of disappoint
ment. Are you aged ? The aged die soon
er than the voting ; you may soon Ire ta
ken away—it will provide your daughter
then with a home ; you leave her in the
care of on° vou know, and can the better
trust. Young man! do you want
a talisman, a philosopher’s stone?
do you wish to realize all your
golden dreams of titled wealth,
and more than earthly happiness ?
Marry! Young woman !do you
also wish to realize the romance
of your hopes and be surrounded
with unchangeable affection, de
voted, undying love ? do you wish
a slave to your charms ? Mar
ry ! You who are “ past the me
ridian” will be reserved for some
future “ Scribbler,” probably the
next. A hint here is all—to im
prove your time ; if you would be
supremely happy, while it is cal
led to-day, and ere your vigor and
health is wasted in isolated,worth
less existence, be wise to-day—