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Mitt AGERE.’
James Harper, Rev. C. S. Dod,
John G. Dunlap, E E. Scofield,
John Milledge, James Godby,
Advice to the Melancholy.
Well, sir how have you been ? Down
in the mouth again ! Ave, sir, you have
been looking at something too long.
Never should do that. In a world that is
whirling a thousand miles an hour, every
thing should be taken at a glance. Get
the wit of a thing, and have done with it.
I give you five minutes every day to
look at the stars but don’t particularize ;
for some in those far off places send their
light down long after they have been
knocked out of existence, and you may
be looking at a blank. Look out for
such delusions, and act, remembering
that the poetry of the hour, like the
cream of your coffee, should be fresh
every morning.
Ob, sir, in a world that never halts for
a moment in its everlasting round o£
changing amusement, your small agony
is unpardonable. Why the clouds and
darkness are part of the play. Certain
ly, part of the play. Rain and snow, and
chiliv winds, pain, trouble, and torment:
these are the variations for which you
may thank God.
If there were not plainer faces and
worse figures, your little wife would soon
be a perfect fright to you—a perfect
fright. Find your bubble and blow, but
never slop to look at the colors. Let
them burst; no matter for that while
your wind lasts. Blow away, there’s
nothing like it. If you are tired like
myself, and would like to look on, I can
only say that the moralities of such spe
culations are hazardous ; and if you have
any wind left, it is better to die with a
round cheek than a hollow one.
A man without a bubble is flatulent;
and a woman without one —that’s impos
sible. Take my advice, sir, and let the
world wag. If it chooses to run off the
track, Ist it, and if any comet has a mind
to take us en route to the sun, why blaze
away !
There are thousands of better dots in
creation than this old concern ; and whe
ther we go up, dowp, or sideways—rock
et, earthquake, or thirty-two pounder, we
shall land somewhere ; can’t get lost, no
how. — Knickerbocker.
How 10 he a Mail.
Some young man applied to Carlyle to
point out for him a course of reading.
The celebrated author replied to him in
his characteristic manner. The letter is
too long for us, hut we give the conclu
ding paragraph, which is full of truth and
nerve:
In conclusion, I will remind you that it
is not books alone, or by books chiefly,
that a man becomes in all points a man..
Study to do faithful whatsoever thing in
your actual situation, then and now, you
find either expressly or tacitly laid to
your charge ; that is your post; stand in
it like a true soldier. Silently devour
the many chagrins of it, as all human sit
uations have many ; and see you aim not
to quit it without doing all that it, at
least, required of you. A man perfects
him-ielf by work much more than bv,
reading. Tney are a growing kind of
men that can wisely combine the two
things—wisely, valiantly, can do what.is
laid to their hand in their present sphere,
and prepare themselves withal for doing
other wilder things, if such lie before
them.
Sporting Adventure*
Chasing the chamois in Switzerland is
sometimes attended with startling acci
dents. An English sportsman, who had
ventured to join the mountaineers in their
venturesome labors, thus recounts one in
cident which he witnessed. “ Our guide
took us to a spot called Le Monde Perdu,
. a range of mountains said to be 7000
feet above the sea; they cannot be less
than 13,000 feet high. They are cover
ed, for several thousand feet, with a thick
mantle of perpetual snow, and their sum
mits are in general finely formed. To ar
rive at this Monde Purdu, we had to
cross a considerable glacier. Its incli
nation not being great, the clefts were
not wide, and were completely conceal
ed by lately fallen snow. Into one of
AUGUSTA WASHINGTONIAN.
A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS.
Vol. III.]
these my friend unfortunately fell. I
shall never forget my sensations, when i
noon hearing Hoderas exclaim, “Der :
Her ish hineingefallen !” I turned has
tily round, and where I had but an in
stant before seen my friend, saw nothing
j but an even surface of dazzling snow,
j with only his mountain-pole standing bv
| the spot where he had disappeared. It
would be vain for me to attempt to des
j cribe either the acuteness of mv agonv,
' or even the verv nature of the feelings I
• • J or
! experienced in that moment. It was
j not like a common death, where the
| means of destruction, or the inanimate
; corpse, are visible, and the mind is, to a
certain degree, satisfied, by tracing the
connection between cause and effect;
but here it seemed as if he had been at
once mysteriously swept from the face of
creation! I instantly ran up, though
without the slightest hopes of his safety,
as these crevices are usually several hun
dred feet deep. To mv unspeakable de
light, however, I found that he had stuck
fist about six or eight feet below the sur
face. All glaciers, from being on an in
clined plane, are crossed by clefts, orcrev
ices, of various length, wide in the mid
dle, and of course narrow towards each
end. My friend had providentially fall
. en in just at the termination of one of I
i these fissures; had he crossed but a few
feet on one side he must have sunk to an
unknown depth, and, if not mercifully
killed by the fall, must have perished by
a miserable and lingering death between
cold and hunger. There, however, he
was sticking fast between two walls of
thick-ribbed ice, without the power of
moving hand or foot. Ido not think it
would have been an easy job for me and
Iloderas to have extracted him from his
cool lodging, but fortunately we had in
Marchietti the very mail for such emer
gencies. He was at some distance when
we let him know what had happened.—
* Can you hear him V was the character,
istic rejoinder of one not unaccustomed
to sufch adventures. ‘Yes!’ ‘Can you
see him?’ ‘Oh! yes, here hois only a
few feet beneath the surface!’ ‘Oh!
very well, wait, then, till 1 come.’ And
accordingly necame up at his usual pace,
and having made steps on each side of
the crevasse, descended within it, fasten
ed a knotted handkerchief round his
friend’s hands, and then raised him up as
easily as I would an infant.
From the New Orleans Picayune.
George Washington Wimple,
THE MAX WHO PREFERS THE BALLAD TO
THE BALLOT.
About last night’s noon, an individual
might be seen, and was by the watchman
seen, wending his way up St. Charles st.
His course was neither directly direct nor
regularly irregular. It might have been
a preparatory practice of tiie new Polka
dance, or a succession of endeavors to
kill cockroaches creeping on the ban
quette. Now the Charlies, who are all
strict constructionists, and who enforce
the letter of the municipal ordinance with
as much rigor and exactness as the Modes
ahd Persians did their laws, never inter
fere with a man’s manner of walking so
long as he is able to walk at all; for our
city lawgivers, with a wisdom and liber
ality above all price and beyond all praise,
have left it to every man to move along
as best he can, and have laid down no le
gal, definite mode of locomotion. But
although they have so ruled it with re
gard to men’s walking, they are more
strict with reference to men’s talking, af
ter a certain hour of night, whether that
taking be in tune or out of tune—a ser
mon or a serenade —a political speech or
a temperance exhortation. It was in the
enforcement of this peace-preserving
principle that the watchman at the corner
of Poydras and St. Charles streets, in a
tone of imperative official authority, bade
our hero ‘shut up!’ who was just then
singing a song equal in metre and melo
dy to any of our modern political lyrics,
the chorus of which ran thus—
“ Hurra for the stripes and stars,
Hurra for annexation,
Hurra tor our Yankee tars,
Andour ‘universal nation.”
‘I order you again to shut up,’ said the
watchman. 4 There aint no two wavs 1
about it—you must either shut up your
self or I’ll shut you up like winkin’.—
Some folks think watchmen aint nobody, '
but I’ll let you know, old fellow, that they '
are some body, so sing small.’ *
‘ Charles,’ said the vocalist, looking 1
half-vacantly, half-scrutinisingly into the 1
face of the watchman, ‘ Charles, thou art
a walking somriambulist, a moving mat-j 4
AUGUSTA, GA. SEPTEMBER 7, 1844.
ter. Thou hast got speculation in thine
eye, but thou hast got no music in thy
soul. Thou art impenetrable to the tones
that wake the thoughts to tenderness—
thou art impervious to the strains that
rouse and stir up the slumbering spirit of
patrotism. Thou ’
• O that’s all very fine,’said the watch
man, cutting off the peroration of the
speaker, ‘its all very fine, but it aint no
part of the ord’nance. Now, disturbin’
the peace is, which consequently brings
you within the act protectin’ the citizens
in the natural enjoyment of their sleep.’
It was in vain that the singer told the
watchman that he transcended his duty
—that his was an unjust interference with
and violation of the rights of a citizen:
the watchman ‘toted’ him off to the cala
boose.
‘What's your name?’ said the officer
of the night.
‘ George Washington Wimple,’ replied
the prisoner.
‘The watchman charges you,’said the
officer, ‘with disturbing the peace.’
"* The watchman is a songless, soulless
individual.’said Wimple, ‘with a mind as
dark as Erebus. I was not disturbing
the peace, sir, I was singing—singing for
the million. I was essaying to revise and
j rekindle the smouldering tire of patriot
ism. now almost extinguished in the
breasts of our citizens. The time and
the occasion called for it. The moon
had already passed its meridian, and time
in its unceasing travel had reached (he
sixty-eighth year ts our national inde
pendence. Who, sir, would not sing at
such a time ? Who would not send forth
canticles burthened with patriotic pride
on such an occasion? Were not those
guns fired in Lafayette Square charged
with patriotic powder, and was not I
charged with patriotic praise to an ex
tent that l must go off or burst?’
*My duty is to commit you for the
night,,’ said the officer. It will rest with
the ,Recorder to-morrow morning to say
how far you have offended against the
laws,’
‘I protest,’said Wtinple, ‘against this
arbitrary infringement on the rights of a
citizen—a patriotic citizen who loves his
country as that black rascal Othello did
his beautiful wife, ‘not wisely but too
well’—who ’
‘O, look here, Mr. Thingamy,’said the
watchman, ‘niggers nint got nothin’to
do with makin’ the ord’nances.’
‘ I say again,’ said Wimple, ‘ you have
been guilty of a violation of my natural
rights—and of the right of election, too;
because political science Jias become a
branch of vocal music. Voting by bal
lot is decidedly vulgar and corrupt; men
will henceforth bo sung into office—elec
tion will be by ballad and not by ballot.
What better way is there, I should like
to know, of ascertaining the voice of the
people than by their capacity for singing?’
The officer told him he was not pre
pared to argue the question with him and
locked him up. YVe trust the Recorder
will take his patriotism into considera- !
tioivthis morning, and dispense with the
usual ‘thirty days.’
The Warming Pan. —ln Ireland a
warming pan is called a friar. Not
many years ago, an unsophisticated girl
took service at a hotel in the town of
of a warming pan in her ,ife, though
she regularly confessed to a friar once a
year. ,
It so happened, on a cold and drizzly
night, that a priest took lodgings in the
inn. He had travelled far, and being
weary, retired at an early hour. Soon
after, the mistress of the house called the
servant girl.
“ Betty, put the friar into No. 6.”
Up went Betty to the poor priest.
“ Your reverence must go into No. 6,
my mistress says.”
“How, what?” asked he, annoyed at
being disturbed.
“ Your reverence must go into No. 6.”
There was no help for it, the priest
arose, donned a dressing gown, and went
into No. 6.
In about fifteen minutes the mistress
called to Betty:
“Put the friar into No. 4.”
Betty said something about disturbing
his reverence, which her mistress did not
understand. So she told the girl, in a
sharp voice to do always as she was di
rected, and then she would always do
right.
Up went Betty, ar.d the unhappy priest
despite bis angry protestations, was o
bliged to turn out of No. G and go into
No. 4.
But a little time elapsed before the
girl was told to put the friar into No. 3.
and the poor priest, thinking that every
body was mad in the house, and sturdily
resolved to quit it on the next morning,
crept into the damp sheets of No. 3.
But he was to enjoy no peace there.—
Betty was again directed to put the friar
into No. 2, and with tears in her eyes she
obeyed.
In about an hour the landlady conclu
ded to go to bed herself, and the friar
was ordered into her room. Wondering
what it all meant, Betty roused up the
priest and told him lie must go into No.
11. The monk crossed himself, counted
his beads, and went into No. 11.
It so happened that the husband of the
landlady was troubled with the green
eyed monster. Going up to bed, there
fore, before his wife, his suspicions were
confirmed, by seeing between his two
sheets, a man sound asleep. To rouse
the sleeper and kick him into the streets
was the work of a moment; nor was
the mistake explained till the next day,
when the priest informed the innkeeper
what outrages had been committed upon
him, and he learned to his amazement,
that he had been serving the whole night
as a warming pan.
A “Deiicious” Story.
Just before the embarkation of the Life
Guards for the YY’aterbo-tAmpaign, when
all London was on the qui vive for great
events, the theatres crowded nightly, and
the military, there as elsewhere, taking
down their last gulps of fun. “Shaw,
the Life-Guardsman,” famous as the
largest and strongest man in England, a
sort of Belgian giant affair, was in Drury
Lane, and, of course, attracted vast at
tention. Among the rest came Captain
Barclay, the celebrated pedestrian, ama
teur boxer, gentlenvan gymnatist, &c.,
who was immediately struck with intense
admiration at the “points” of the huge,
yet active, soldier.
“Gracious! what a man! Look at
him! Magnificent fellow! Beg pardon—
really must feel your arm!”
The enthusiastic Captain approached,
examined the giant’s muscle, eyed his
pose, measured his “ reach,” &c., every
moment waxing in delight.
“The most superb thing ever seen.bean
tiful fellow ! I should like just my
rnan ! oblige me by stepping this way.”
The Guardsman obeyed ; a five pound
note was thrust into his hand, and with a
few select amateurs, the Captain adjourn
ed to a neighboring coffee-house, called
for a room, and immediately began to
strip for a friendly “set to.”
“ I think I should die if I hadn’t n crack
at him. Sweetest thing I ever saw in
my life.”
The soldier was every way ready to
oblige, vowed that it wasn’t the least
troble in life, and to the Captain’s re
quest that he would “hit out,” “show
j what he could do,” “make himself/e/f,”
&c. he promised implicit obedience.—
The parties stood forth—Barclay, a pow
erful man, but almost hid beneath the
hulk of his opponent. There was a little
light sparring, a lew taps were exchan
ged, a few exclamations on the part of
the Captain, of “very pretty,” “capital,”
&c. until, growing more impatient, he
repeated his desire to feel the giant! and
the next moment found him picking him
self out of the fire place, which he had
been knocked into at his own “particular
desire.” He came forth, however, in
unabated delight.
“ Ton my soul, a lovely fellow! Per
fect treat! Come, my man, not tired, I
hope ? Now' then, let’s see what you can
do ?”
The words were hardly out before a
tremendous blow upon the nose and
mouth sent him flying, heels uppermost,
through the door of a china closet! from
amid the contents of which he was assist
ed with loosened teeth, and the claret
flowing “ elegantly ?” There was a wink
ing of the eyes, and a sniffling from the
nose, and something of an inarticulate
ness of utterance on the part of the Cap
tain, as calling for water, he invited the
Guardsman to supper, declaring, with a
pair of enormously swelled lips, that he
was a “ delicious fellow /”
When last seen alive, at the battle of
Waterloo, which took place shortly after
wards, Shaw was standing amid a heap
of his own slain, holding up his bowels
with one band, while defending himself
against a swarm of Frenchmen with the
other.-—S'?. Louis Reoelie.
WASHINGTONIAN
TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEBEE.
We, whose names are hereunto an
nexed, desirous of forming a Society lor
mr mutual benefit, and to guard against
pernicious practice, which is injurious
to our health, standing ar.i! families, do
pledge ourselves as Gentlkvkn, not ta
drink any Spirituous or Malt L.iquart,
Wine or Cider. %
[No. 8
Incidents of Military Honor.
We have received a copy of the “Cape Town
Mail,' 1 containing an account of a dinner given
in the Commercial Hall, Cape Town, to Sir
George Napier, Governor General ofthe Colony,
by a number of his triends, on the eve of his de
parture for England, after holding the appoint
ment for six years.
The toast of “The three gallant brothers,
whose names wercconslantly associated together
in the Peninsular army—Charles, George, and
William Napier,” which was received with great
cheering, c,a!l< d forth a reply from the Governor
General, in the course of which he related the
following incidents ofthe honor of soldiers.
After the battle of Corunna, my brother
Charles was reported to be killed. 1 returned to
the lieid, I turned over many bodies; I search
ed every hospital, but 1 could not find him. At
length I heard that he was wounded, and taken
prisoner. He was shot through the body, he was
shot through the leg, he was cut by a sabre, al
most from ear to ear; and one ofthe enemy was
justabout to drive a bayonet through him, when
a French drummer, interposed and saved his lift-
When Marshal Soult learned the circumstance,
he ordered the drummer to be rewarded on the
spot, and wrote to Napoleon, stating the circum
stance, who, to his credit be it spoken, oreered
the drummer to receive the Cross ofthe Legion
of Honor. [Loud cheers ] The spquel was re
markable. Years alter that, my brother Wil
liam bad to defend the bridge at the Coa with the
13d. The French came down impetuously, and
the fight was furious. 1 have seen the bridge,
gentlemen, and it is hardly wider than this table.
Again and again the assault was renewed; and
y..u may judge ofthe fierceness of the conflict,
when I state that, out ofthe hundred men of
which my brother William’s company consisted
he lost sixty. A fresh column ofthe enemy came
down—a drummer, as was common at that time,
at their head, shouting, “ Vizt I’Empercur!"
They were driven back, and the drummer fell
among the dead. After the action, we went up
; l <* the spot where the drummer lay; he wore the
Cross of the Legion of Honor; that drummer
proved to be the man that saved my brother’s
life. [Hear, hear.]
Gentlemen, these are anecdotes of the war,
which show you what the feeling of soldiers are!
You will never find the brave soldier cruel to his
enemy, or quarrelsome with his friends. And
as 1 am a story telling, there is another anecdote
connected with the Peninsular war, which, in
reference to this principle, I may also mention.
When Marshal ioult quitted Corunna, the gal
lant Ney was left in command. He sent for my
brother, who was still u prisoner, and placed him
in comfortable quarters. He also appointed an
aid-de-camp to attend upon him, a frenchman,
who spoke English well. In the mean time the
news had got home that my brother was killed
and the family went into mourning. My poor
mother, however, said sha never would believe it;
and she gave the war department no a ß t, until
Lord Mulgrave, who was at the jieau of it. sent
a sloop of war to Corunna, commissioned to as
certain the fact. One morningj the aid-de-camp
came running into my brother, and said an En
glish vessel had arrived in the harbor. It was
not known for what purpose she had come, but
the kind hearted fellow went to Ney, and begged
that my brother might be allowed to go home in
her. Ney answered, “No; 1 cannot let him go;
Major Napier must remain.” The aide-de-camp
returned, and iniformrd my brother ofthe ill suc
cess of his attempt. “Well,” said my brother,
i “ofcourse 1 must submit; my mother will at
least hear that lam alive.” Again the aide-de
camp went to Marshal Ney, and again he was re
fused; but still he persevered in pleading for my
brother’s release. At last he said, “ Ah, Mar
shall, Major Napier has a mother, and if lie docs
not return, his mother will die!” The Marshal
paused a moment, and, turning’ to him, said,
‘‘Go, tell Major Napier he is free, on one condi
tion : —that if the Emperor refuses ;.o sanction this
release, he will join me again on his parole.”
To this of course, my brother gladly consented,
and, on waiting on the Marshal, he was asked if
there were any of his people whom tie would wLh
to take with him Aly brother said there w'ere
some forty or fifty women who had been left be
hind. 1 hesc Ney ordered to be immediately re
leased, and, turning to his aide-de vamp, added,
“ See that every soldier and every woman gets
two Spanish dollars a piece to take them home."
—[Loud cheers.]
| was about to mention some particulars wilh
regard to my brother as a historian. Yvhen 1
was in Paris, Marshal Soult gave me a dinner—
not on my account, but as a brother of the histo
rian—at which a number ol'Spanish, Portuguese,
and other foreigners of distinction were present.
Marshal Soult then addressed himself to me on
the subject of the work, and said, that when my
brother first wrote to him, requesting informa
tion from sources which he had at his command,
he was by no means disposed to accede to the re
quest, and wrote a cold letter in reply, stating that
he had a journal of his own, but that he did not
see how tho conduct of the French could be im
partially represented by a foreigner. “Your
brother,” said Soult, “ wrote in answer, that his
! object in asking for the information, was for the
purpose of writing an impartial history, and that,
therefore, if there were any Inaccuracies, I must
not attribute them to him, but to the want of suf
ficient information. I took no further notice of
thematter; but after a time, a letter came to mo
from your brother, stating, that in his researches
among other documents, he had found a lot of *
letters belonging to Joseph, King of Spain, accu
sing me of wanting to throw off my allegiance to
France. He said he had read thpm over, and
found that they contained grave accusations
against me; but, before he published them, he
sent them over for my perusal, in order that he
might publish at the same time, any defence that
I might wish to make. When i read this, i said,
this must be a gallant soldier, and a good man.
And I immediately sent him a quantity of papers,
and my own journal, and told him that 1 com
mitted the whole to niin, because I knew they
would be used by him as an honorable r- nd c bro
ther soldier.” On this noble conduct on tho
partof Marshal Soult, I need make no remark.
Our great Captain showed the feelings he enter
tained towards him on bis recent visit to Eng
land. Soult travelled on the railroads and visit
ed various parts of the country, and my brother
told me he* never saw a man who appeared so
gratified with his visits ass Soult appeared to bo.