Newspaper Page Text
SAVANNAH, September IC, 1850.
Mr. Editor:
Sir—l l.ave forwarded you lb following lines
for insertion in ihe Friend of the Fanii'y, should
you think them worthy a place in its columns.
A member of the
Coldstream Guards.
THE ERSWER’S COACHMAN.
‘* P'H*r Will,” nn honest and good nntured fellow,
A little too oft got a little too rr.eUotc !
Body Coachman was he to an eminent Brewer,
A bettor ne’er s>at on a coach-box I’m suie.
His coach he kept clean, and no mother or nurses,
Took more care of their Labes, than Will did of
his horses;
Ho had th“se and a thousand good properties
more,
But the work of tippling lie could ne’er get o’er ;
So his master deteimined on mending the mutter,
By employe g a Coachman u ho drank nothing but
watei,
“ Now William,” says he, 4 ‘ you see the plain case
Ilad you done so, you would have kept a good
place,”
Quoth Will, 11 good sir had all men and n 1 so!
Your honor would ne’er wanted a Cua. liman, I
trow.
For its such men as me, whom you load with re
proaches,
That enable you Breveers to ride in fine Coaches .”
HUMAN LIFE.
OR THE FIRST AND LAST MINUTE.
Minutes Pass. —The anxious hus
band paces slowly across his study.
He is a father ; a man child is born
unto him. Minutes pass —the child
has been blessed with a parent,
whom it cannot recognise ; and
pressed to that bosom to which in
stinct alone guides it for sustenance
—the young wife, 100, has faintly
answered to a husband’s questions,
and fell his warm kiss on her fore
head .
Hours pass. —The low moaning
from the closely covered cradle
tells of the first wants of its infant
occupant. The quiet tread of the
nurse speaks of suffering around
her, while her glad countenance
•says that the very sufFeiing which,
she is trying to alleviate is a source
of joy, ami the nameless articles
which, from time to time, she ar
ranges on the hearth tell of anew
claimant for the couriesies and at
tentions of those who h ive pro
gressed further on the path way of
existent e.
Days pass. —Visitors are throng
ing the chamber, and the mother,
pale and interesting after her recent
sickness, is receiving their congratu
lainnsand listening proudly to their
praises of ihe little treasure, which
lies asleep in its rocking bed at her
feet. The scene shifts, and the
father is there with her alone, as
the twilight deepens around them
while they are planning the future
destiny of the child.
Weeks juiss. —The eyes of the
young mother are sparkling with
health, and the rose blooms again
on her cheek, and the cares of plea
sure and home engage her atten
lion, and the father is once more
mingling with the world, yet they
find many opportunities each day
to visit the young inheritor of life—
to watch over his dreamless slum
bers —to trace each other’s looks in
his countenance, and to ponder up
on tlie felicity of which he is the
hearer to them.
Months pass. —The cradle is des
erted, but chamber-floor is strewed
with plav-ihings, and there is a little
one loitering among them, whose
half lisped word?, and hearty laugh
and sunny countenance tell you
that the entrance into life is over a
pathway of flowers. The cradle is
empty, but the last prayers of the
parents are uttered over the small
crib, which stands by their own bed
side, and their latest attention is
given to the peacetul breathings
of its occupant.
Years pass. Chi'dhood has
strengthened into boyhood, and boy
hood has gamboled along into man
hood, Old connexions are broken
—parents are sleeping in their
graves —new intimacies are formed,
anew home is about him, new cares
distract, him. He is abroad, strug
gling amid the business of life, or
resting from it with those whom he
has chosen from his own generation.
Time is beginning to wrinkle his
forehead, and thought has robbed
his looks of their gayety, and study
has dimmed his eyes. Those who
began life after he had grown up,
are fast crowding him out of it, and
there are many claimants upon his
industry and love, for protection
and support.
Years pass. —His own children
have become men, and are quitting
him, as he also quitted the home of
hi? fathers. His steps have lost
their elasticity'’, his hand has be
come familiar with the cane, to
which he js obliged to trust in his
walks. He has lelt the bustle which
fatigued him. He looks anxiously
in each day’s paper among the
deaths —and then ponders over the
home of an old friend, and tries to
persuade himself that he is younger
and stronger, and has a better hold
on life than any of his contempora
ries.
Months pass. —He gradually di
minishes the circle of his activity.
He dislikes to go abroad where he
finds so many new faces, and he
grieves to meet his former compan
ions after a short absence, they seem
to have grown so old and infirm.
Quiet enjoy meats only are relished
—a little conversation about old
limes—a sober game —a religious
treatise—and hisearlv bed, form lor
him the sum total of his pleasures.
Weeks pass. —Infirmity keeps him
in his chamber. His walks are limit
ed to the small space between his
easy chair and his bed. His swol
len limbs are wrapped in flannels.
His sight is falling—his ears refuse
their duty, and his cup is but hall
filled, since, otherwise, his shaking
hand can not carry it to his shrunk
en lips without spilling its contents.
His powers are weakened —his
faculties are blunted —his strength
is lost.
Days pass. —The old man does
not leave his bed—his memory is
failing-—he talks, but cannot be
understood —he asks the questions,
but they relate to the transactions
of a former generation—he speaks
of occurrences, but the recollection
of no one around him can go back
to their scenes—lie seems to com
mune with comrades but when he
names them, it is found that the
waters of time and oblivion have
long covered their tombs.
Hours pass. —The taper grows
dimmer and dimmer—the machi
nerv moves ye’, more and more
slowly—the sands are fewer as
they measure the allotted span.
The motion of those about him is
unheeded or becomes a vexation.
Each fresh inquiry after his health
isa knell. The springs of life can
no longer force on its wheels—the
“silver cord,” is fast untwisting—
the pitcher is broken at the fountain
—and lime “is a burden.” Hi3
children are about him, but he heeds
them not —his friends are near, but
he does not recognise them. The
circle is completed. The course is
t un—and utter weakness brings the
cold damp, which ushers in the
night of death.
Minutes pass. His breathings
grow softer and slower—his pulse
beats fainter and feebler. Those
around him are listening, but can
not tell when they cease. The
embers are burnt out — and the blaze
flashes not before it expires. His
“three score years nr.d ten” are
numbered. Human life “is finish
ed.”—New England Galaxy.
A WORD ABOUT RIDICULE.
] know of no principle which it
is of more importance to fix in the
minds, of young people, than that
of the most determined resistance
to the encroachments of ridicule.
Give up to the world, and to the
ridicule with which the world en
forces its dominion, every trifling
question of manner and appearance;
it is to toss courage and firmness
to the winds to combat with the
mass upon such subjects as these.
But learn, from the earliest days,
to insure your principles against
the perils of ridicule ; —you can no
more exercise your reason if you
live in the constant dread of laugh
ter, than you can enjoy your life
if you are in the constant terror
of death. If you think it right to
differ from the times, and to make
a stand fi)r any valuable point of
morals, do it however rustic, how
ever antiquated, however pedantic
it may appear; doit not for inso
lence, hut seriously and grandly,
as a man who wore a soul of his
own, in his bosom, and did not
wait till it was breathed into it by
the breath of fashion. Let men
call you mean if you know you
are not hypocritical, if you are
honestly religious; pusilanirnous, if
you feel that you are firm, resistance
soon converts unprincipled wit into
sincere respect; and no after time
can tear from you those feelings
which every man carries with him
who has a noble and successful ex
ertion in a virtuous cause.— Sidney
Smith.
Not lobe Beat. — Rebecca Smith,
of the town of Henderson, Jeffer
son county, N. Y., reiict of Ahira
Smith, deceased, has spooled and
quilled the yarn for 1,000 yards of
cloth, knit 60 pair of stockings with
in the last ten months, besides at
tending to her household duties,
usually making her own and two
other bedsdaily, and all this at the
age of 00 years in February next.
Girls do you hear that ?
CAUTION TO LADIES.
The annexed nine cautions to
to young ladies are almost a# im
portant as the ten, commandments
laid down in the good book. We
quote them for the benefit of our
young and unsophisticated maiden
readers who may not yet have ‘told’
their love ; and who will we t rust,
pay due attention to the sound ad
vice here given, ere they tie the ‘silk
en cord,’ lor better or worse :
1. Never marry for wealth, never
make money an object of marriage.
‘Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that
which is not?’ A man’s life con
sisted not in the things which he
possessed.
2. Never marry a fop, or one
who struts about dandy-like in his
silk gloves and ruffles, will) silvered
cane, and rings on his fingers. Be
ware! there is a trap !
3. Never marry a niggard, a close
fisted mean, sordid wretch, who
saves every, penny, or spends grud
gingly. Take care lest he stint you
to death. Beware of the trap.
4. Never marry a stranger, or
one whose character is not known
or tested. Some females jump right
into the fire wiili their eyes open.
5. Never marry a mope or a
drone, one who drawls and draggles
through life, one foot after another,
and lets things take their course;
‘drowsiness shall clothe a man in
rags.’
6. Never marry a man who treats
his mother cr sister unkindly nr in
differently, such treatment is an
indication of a mean and wicked
heart. And a young man guilty of
such meanness, will never make a
good husband. Beware! ladies.
Do you see a young man that’s at
tentive, affectionate to his aged
mother and sisters, attentive to all
their wants with filial love and ten
derness, virtuous, pure, and lovely
in his deportment, fear not, his
worth is above rubies.
7. Never, on any account, marry
a gambler, a spend-thrift, a sabbath
breaker, a profane person, one who
in the least speaks lightly or care
lessly of God, and holy things. Such
a man, whatever qualifications he
may possess, can never make a true
husband. Beware.
S. Never marry a sloven, a man
who is negligent of his person and
dress, and of filthy habits. The
external appearances often indi
cates the state of mind and heart;
with the pure all things are pure.
9. Shun the rake as a snake, a
viper, a demon.
Free Translation —We 11, now,
you’ve been to college two years,
l suppose you can translate Latin
some can’i you V
‘Yes I can translate anything.
‘Canyon? Well what does this
mean ; Poeta nascitur non fit V
‘Oh ! that means a nasty poet is
not fit !’
‘Not fit for what?’
‘You don’t quote the whole —pro
dcccntibussocictale —not fit for decent
society !’
*Ah ! indeed ! and what does ne
sufor mean V’
‘lf you, in popping the question
should drop on your knees you
would be a knee suitor .’
‘Very good. Now what is jam
satis?’
‘Oh ! that is what the fellow said
in a crowd ;he meant he was jammed
enough !”
‘Well, this college lamin’ is a
great thing. 1 s’posn yo*u didn’t
know that I can translate some mv
self.’
‘No ! can you ?’
‘Oh yes! — clam et palam —know
what that means, eh V
‘Not exactly; what is it?’
‘That means, eat clams by the
pailful !’
‘You may take my hat !’
Cows have power to hold up their
Milk . —lt is known to many farmers
that, when young cows first come
in, when the calves are taken away,
they will hold up the milk for a short
time, and some will also dry them
selves before they will give it down.
A few years ago I bought a young
cow, which proved lobe very wild,
and when 1 took away her first calf,
she would not give down lier milk.
I had heard it remarked, that put
ting a weight on the cow’s back
would make her give her milk down.
I accordingly drove her into the
stable, and put a bushel of grain on
her back; but not being heavy
enough, took it off and put my el
bows in the centre of her back, and
bore on till she hollowed in her
back.
While she was kept in this posi
tion, she had no power to hold up
her milk ; for it came down freely.
Alter doing this a. Few times, after
wards putting my hand on the back
of the cow, it would give way, and
she would immediately give down
her milk.— Corr. of Am. Ag.
The spirits of man are the ther
mometer of his happiness, and it is
to the rise and fall of them that his
troubles and cures, joys or pleasures
may always be determined.
A poetic 3 r oung man in writing of
his lady love, says “ her face is a
lamp of alabaster, lit with pleasant
thoughts.’* What an interesting
light to write by, especially if she
would allow you to punctuate with
hisses. Take away the sugar, John.
Avery modest lady sent her very
modest daughter, a pretty young
damsel, out one morning for some
articles. Among the many she in
formed a clerk in one of our stores
that her mother wanted to get three
yards of cloth, “ for primitive trian
gular appendages for the baby.”
In old times, before the school
master “got round,” a Jersey land
lord thus hung out bis banner:
“Heer pize and Kuke and Bier I
sell,
Good oysters stood and in the shel ;
And iVigb’d uns tew, for them that
chews,
And with dispatch black butes and
shuze.”
Did you ever know a young lady
who was too weak to stand up dar
ing prayer-time that could not dance
all night without being weary.
The Cholera has broken out in the
Lunatic Asylum at Lexington, Ky.,
and up to the latest accounts there
had been 24 cases, of'which 1G ter
minated fatal ly.
More money is expended in Bos
ton for education, than by the En
glish Government for the education
of its seventeen millions of people.
Cixcinnatti, Sent. 12, 18-50.
The Grand Lodge of Odd-Fellows.
—The Grand Lodge of Indepen
dent Order of Odd Fellows of the
United States, now assembled in this
city, composes a large number of
delegates from different States in the
Union. Among the most prominent
I notice the names of IL 11. Griffin,
of Georgia ; J. L. Itidgelv of Maty
land ;J. W. Stokes, of Pennsylva
nia ;J. M. Burnett, of Virginia ; J-
G. Potts, of Illinois; Dr. W. W.
Wallace, J. W. Hall, W. L. G.
Smith, and J. A. Kenned}’, ofNew-
York ; S. H. Parker, of New Hamp
shire ; L. P. Chapman, Indiana ;
Rev. Mr. Abell and Rev. Mr. Willie,
of Connecticut.
The reception supper given last
night at the Burnett House to the
Bight Worthy Grand Lodge, was
equal to any entertainment previ
ously given in thecily. The repu
tation of the establishment selected
for the festival was fully established.
|At about 9 o’clock the members of
j the Grand Lodge, numbering 142,
entered the spacious room, and
were welcomed in a happy manner
by George F. Ilies who was replied
i toon behalf of those present bv
Grand Sire Griffin of Georgia.
Proximity of the Old, World to the
| New. —Charlotte Cushman played
at Liverpool on the 101li of last
month, and she appeared at Niblo’s
Garden, New York on the 3l)tli—
just a fortnight after her perfor
mance three thousand miles away *
“Hanse who do you vote for ?”
“I votes for de peoples, I do.”
“Well but wbat candidate ?”
“No candidate at all but de Gov
ernor.”
“Well what Governor?”
“Him what gits elected rnit de
ballot-box next year will be a fort
night.”
Death of Count De Laportc. —The
St. Louis papers announce the
death ofthis gentleman, on the 30th
July, in Lewis county, Mo. An ad
herent of the Bourbons, self-exiled
and self-dependent, he was a teach
er of the French language, formerly
a Professor in Harvard University,
and sometime since, lectured and
gave lessons in Philadelphia, where
he was known.
“Jenny Lind Chewing Tobacco”
is the latest notion in Virginia. Just
think of Jenny chewing !
Some sensible chap says truly,
that a man who tries to raise him
self by scandalizing others, might
just as well s.t down on a wheelbar
row, and underiuke to wheel him
self.
It is said that the owners of the
Cunard line of s’eaniers, having dis
posetl of the Hibernia and Caledonia ,
two of the oldest ships in their line,
are about building two new steam
ers in their stead. The new vest
sels are to be constructed, \vi thout
delay, and are to be of much great
er power than the slsiir, the fastest
vessel at present in their line.
, The Devil never troubles a busy
man—except an Editor.
“A Great Admirer of Avon’s
Bard” having asked the Boston
Evening Gazette where the following
passage is to be found, “Is that a t
that I C B 4 me !” is informed by
our cotemporary that it may be
found in Macbeth, whose murder
ous 0F 1 put a . to I Duncan.
Death of Captain Vincent.— -Capt.
H. E. Vincent, an old and respecta
ble ciiizen of Charleston, died on
Saturday evening at his residence
in that city. Capt. Vincent was fur
many years a ship master in Char
leston, but more recently bad en
gaged in the business of Ship Chand
lery.
Mrs. Speckles says that the best
vegetable pill that has ever been
invented, is the apple-dumpling.
For destroying a gnawing at the
stomach, it is the only pili to be re
lied on. Dai’s a fact.”
Abby Folsom has sent Jenny
Lind an invitation to be present at
an anti-banging meeting, and sing
between the speeches. It is to be
hoped Jenny’s good sense will keep
her out of such company.
Cost of’ Obtaining Patents in Great
Britain. —This subject has been
thought sufficiently interesting to
occupy the attention of the British
Association for the Advancement of
Science, at its session of this year
at Edinburg. Prof. Hancock rend
a paper on the subject, from which
it appears that the cost of obtaining
a patent in England alone is no
less than .£110; in Ireland, .£135;
for the United Kingdom, £37G, —or
between eighteen and nineteen
hundreddollars :—an immense sum
plundered from the pockets of
needy inventors to swell ihe fees
of the Attorney General and other
officials who have small claim of
right to such tribute.
“ I ain’t objectin’ to tranin’ days
altogether,” said Mrs. Partington to
the Major, as the Ancient and Hon
ables passed her door ; “the dress
looks well, and the children likes
the music ; and 1 know this is a
moral training because the Gover
nor is there and his suet, with Ids
chaiaeu on his head, and his sword
by his side. How finely he does
100k —so bold and portable; 1 de
clare he looks too good to be a ma
licious officer, and l wouldn’t give
credibility to such a label on his
character if he told me so himself.”
She here leaned out of tlie door to
catch the last view of the “corpse,”
as she termed it, as it turned the
corner, and a portly looking gentle
men in a cocked hat waved his
hand to her as the pageant swept
from her view, and Mrs Partington
closed the door and resumed the
knitting disturbed by the music.—
Puthfmd< r.
The violet grows low, and cov-;
ers itself with its own leaves; and
yet of all flowers yields the most
delicious and fragranPsmell. Such
is humility.
Jenny's Dog. — Jenny Lind has a
beautiful lap-dog, a present from
Queen Victoria, which, the Tribune
says, “Is of that famous breed that
is worth their weight in gold.” It
must be a well-bred dog indeed,
then.
For Small Size Ladies. —ln a lit
tle, precious little stone, what splen
dor meets the eyes! In a little
lump of sugar how much of sweet
ness lies! So in a little woman
have love grows and multiplies;
you recollect the proverb says, “a
word unto the wise.” A pepper
corn is very small, but seasons every
dinner more than all other condi
ments although ’lis sprinkled thin
ner. Just so a little woman, if love
will let you win her ; there’s not a
joy in all the world, you will not
find within her. And as within the
little rose you’ll find the richest dyes,
and in a liitle grain of gold much
price and value lies ; as from a little
balsam mu ti odor doth arise, so in
a little woman there’s a taste of pa
radise. The sky lark and nightin
gale though small and light of wing,
yet warule sweeter in the grove
than all the biiels that sing. And
so a little woman, though a very
little thing, is sweeter than all other
sweets, e’n flowers that bloom in the
spring.
They have a novel wav in the in
terior of Pennsylvania ofcalling the
men folks to dinner in the absence
of a horn for that purpose. They
suspend a strong piece of skim
milk cheese from an upper window,
which takes posseession of all the
atmosphere to windward ; and thus,
when dinner is ready for the work
men they nose it.
India Rubber Flutes are now
constructed in New York, said to
be equal in tone to those of wood and
ivory.
the blind parrot. “
Thomas Campbell, the n op ,
lated the following as the re ’
Ins fine poem, the Parrot-l 8 " 1 of
‘Many long years ago, vvhil
was sealed up m the Hebrides 7 !
came intimate with a familv w i’ . ,
a beautiful parrot, which a v
mariner had brought from
America as a present to hi*
heart. This happened ln n <r i,J' et ’
my arrival at the Mull; the °p„]| 7 r ?
many years had been a inueh.prj.'!s
and petted favorite in the L
hold He was a captive, to
but allowed at times to be outs'|
his cage cn parole.; and, always ( i
serving good faith and
for such indulgences, they \v ere ?
peated as often as appeared
tent with safe custody. 7’| Jr
words of Gaelic which he had
up in his voyage to the north ...
just sufficient mi lus arrival, | 0 i
speak the good-will of the f a , n q
and recommend himself to i| l{ /
hospitality; but his vocabulary
soon increased—he became a „ r
mimic—lie could imitate t|, P ~ •
r , uc cries
or every domestic
voices of the servants—he Cou u
laugh, whistle, and scold, like any
other biped around him. He
in short, a match evert for Kelly’
renowned parrot : for though he
could not or would not,
save the King,’ he was a proficient
in ‘Charlie is my darling,’ and other
Jacobite airs, with which he never
failed to regale* the company when
properl v intreduced.
‘Hull was indeed a remarkable
specimen of his tribe, and the rfojj'y.
wonder of the whole neighborhood.
Vears flew by; and although kind
treatment had quite reconciled him
to his cage, it could not ward off Ihe
usual effects ofold age, particularly
in a climate where lire sun rarely
penetrated within the bars of his
prison. When 1 first saw him, hb
memory had greatly failed him;
while his bright green plumage
j was fast verging into a silvery
j grey. He had but little left of that
triumphant chuckle which used to
! provoke such laughter among the
vounkers: and clay after day lie
would sit mute and moping on his
perch, seldom answering the nu
merous questions that were put to
him regarding the cause of his mala
dy. Had any child of the family
been sick, it could hardly have been
treated with greater tenderness than
Roll.
‘At last, one fine morningjust as
the vernal equinox had blown a
few ships into harbor, a stranger
was announced and immediately
recognized by the master of the
house as a ‘Don’ something—a
Spanish merchant, whose kindness
to a young member of the family
had been often mentioned in his
letters from Mexico. One of his
own ships, a brig, in which he had
made the voyage, was then in the
bay, driven in by stress of weather,
for Mull was no market for Spanish
goods. But that was not my busi
ness ; he would most likely pay. a
visit to Greenock, where in the
present day at least Spanish car
goes are rife enough.
‘No sooner had their visitor ex
changed salutations with the mast
er of the house and his family, than
the parrot caught his eye; and
going up to the cage, lie addressed
the aged bird in familiar Spanish.
The effect was electric; the poor
blind captive seemed as if sudden
ly awakened to anew existence; —
he fluttered his wings in ecstasy
opened his eyes, fixed them, dim
and sightless as they were, intendy
on the stranger ; then answered him
in the same speech—not an accent
of which he had heard for twenty
years. His joy was excessive— Im* 1
it was very short; for in the mkH
of his screams and antics poor M
dropped dead from his perch/
Such was the incident upon when
Campbell composed the Idle balls*
entitled “ The Parrot.” It had to
ken strong hold of his memory, an<*
after the lapse of forty years
its way into the pages of the “ V' v ’
Monthly,” and is now incorporate
with his acknowledged Poems.- --
trie following is an extract;
“ The deep affection of tl;o breast,
That Heaven to living things impairs
Are not exclusively possess'd
By human hearts.
A parrot from the Spanish Main, ,
Full yimg, and early caged, fame off,
With bright wings to the bleak domain
Os Mulla’s shore.
But, petted in our climate cold,
He lived and chatter’d many a da}.
Until with age, from green and g o.d,
His wings grew grey.
# # * # *
At last, when blind and seeming dumb’
He scolded, laugh’d, and spoke n0 mo
A Spanish stranger chanced to cotnc
I o Mullu’s shore ;
He hail’d the bird in Spanish speech.
The bird in Spanish speech irpliedr
Flapp’d round his cage, with joyous -
Dropt down, and died !”