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4 LITERARY. WILLIAM W. MANN, Gdltor. The Southern Field and Fireside IS PUBLISHED EVEBV SATURDAY. TERMS—S2.OO a year, invariably in advance. All j Postmasters are authorized agents. TRAVELING AGENTS: Mrs. N. L. Dosaimm, Charles Pebble. .Toiin L. Stockton, W. H. Crane, W. T. Beau.. L. R. White. I Each Traveling Agent has a written authority to col lect and receipt for subscriptions, signed by the Proprie tor, and his signature verified by the Mayor of the city of Augusta, with the seal of the city attached. SATURDAY MAY lss# - SALUTATORY. The Proprietor presents to the public the first number of The Southern Field and Fireside, without comment as to its merits. It must speak for itself to that public, and say how near it approaches tho fulfillment of the expectations created by the Prospectus. From it I here quote a paragraph : “The Southern Field and Fireside will combine the useful and tho agreeable. It will furnish the Southern former information useful in every field he cultivates, and the Southern family choice literature, the offspring of South ern intellect, worthy of welcome at every fire side. It will be, in all respects, a first class paper—on a scale of expenditure more liberal than has yet been attempted in the South, and designed to rival in its merits the most distin guished of the North.” It will, possibly, be spoken of as an enterprise “ That roars so loud, and thunders in the index,” and the present number may fall short of the promises thus held out. But arrangements are in progress to enhance the interest of each suc ceeding number, and cause them to lie looked for with an increasing avidity. Articles will appear from time to time from Southern writers of the highest literary repute. An earnest of this we furnish in the present number; for in its columns will be found contributions from several established favorites. But to fill these columns with the writings solely of established favorites, would be to fail, in part, in one of the leading aims of this paper. Tliat aim is to foster and bring forward latent talent, and open to those as yet unknown to the literary world, the path to future success and distinction. The present number takes a step in this direc tion, by presenting creditable specimens of the abilities of several young writers who have yet a reputation to make. There are many yet to be brought forward. They, and those already introduced, will strive on, and strive ever, for the smiles and favor of the reading public, their motto being, as is that of the proprietor of The Southern Field and Fireside. “EXCELSIOR.” James Gardner. i— » £5?" IVe send forth to-day the initial number of the Southern Field and Fireside, lielieving that it realizes the expectations which the prospectus authorized, and with increased confidence that there is a prosperous future before us. The pub lisher and proprietor has acted upon his convic tion that the literary resources of the .South are ample, and that they only await the opportu nity for development offered by such enter prises as that proposed by him in the establish ment of this paper, to promptly appear, and re lieve us from the mortifying dependence upon the North under which we have hitherto lain. He expressed his assurance that there would be found in our midst much “latent talent” that should be uncovered, dormant talent that should be awaked, and nascent talent “ worthy to be fostered ” which, if encouragingly taken by the hand and judiciously counseled in its incipient efforts, would give fine promise now. and realize fairest expectation soon. We share —what intelligent observer does not ? —this belief of Mr. Gardner in the existence abundantly at the South of the literary elements: and we feel with him—what patriotic Southerner does not ?—the humiliation and the evils of our accepted dependence upon another section—a dependence only the more mortifying in that it is not necessary. Intelligent individual enter prise, supported with liberality and firmness by the Southern public, would speedily effect our emancipation, and convert sneering contempt for “Southern literature” and Southern literary ability, into a cordial respect. It is time, it is high time, that this change were effected. Hitherto, we hear it whispered, literary uu dertakings at the South have proved signal fail ures. Enterprises, equally patriotic in their con ception with tills of Mr. Gardner, as earnest qnd as honest, maintained too, some of them. wNh a brilliant ability that deserved liberal sup port, have not received it. They have suc cumbed before the public indifference or recipi ents of public sympathy, in- most meagre and disheartening measure, survive to enliven and instruct comparatively small circles of apprecia tive readers. But desjute this unpromising past, we have not lost faith in the future: and we are almost persuaded that hereafter our Southern Field and Fireside will be reemred to as the first well-established literary success, iu the form of a literary paper, south of the Potomac. We perceive, in the Field and Fireside, elements of success which have been wanting to all previous undertakings of the sort. The publisher is de termined that his paper sliall deserve to lie a welcome guest in every family of the South, from Maryland to Texas; and to commence with the first number, as if it were so already. lie means to deserve this success from the begin ning, and to keep his paper up to the mark, working and waiting till he-achieves it. He be lieves that the Southern public will soon appre ciate Ills exertions, and that its favor will soon reward him. As for the editor, his duties will be modest, ftx rnWTMEMM VXBO , Lon* COBMICK, William Glare. W. M. Ki'Sbkli, We Bottom. Edward A. Hill. | K. A Bee*. unobtrusive, and. as he already perceives, suffi ciently laborious. But he promises the friends of the enterprise that lie will not spare himself. Whatever of aliility lie has shall lie devotedly theirs, while the Literary dejiartnient remains in his charge. He does not propose'to supply the j weekly table over which he presides with many viands of his own preparation: but he will take care that nothing but what is sound and whole some, nutritious and well-prepared, shall be served at his lioard. If the fastidious epicure in Literature is not delighted with every thing that may lie spread before liiih, he shall find as little as possible to offend. ——-- To Correspondents. The communication of One who knows all about ye obi Georgia State, is inadmissible. The Firemen, by W. B. A., is rejected. Also, Lines to Sister Mrs. Hetnans, \yy the same. The Old Cob Pipe behind the Clock. Accepted with pleasure. It is decidedly good. Dear Woman's Health, by the same writer, we would rather not publish. The Lost rieiad. Our fair correspondent has sent us some quite spirited lines, which we are obliged—though with regret —to decline. Their morality, we think, is not unimpeachable. We were quite shocked at the writer's confession — M W© do only lack occasion To be guilty of like slips.” A Mother's Love is under consideration. Letters from my Log Cabin. No. 1 has come to liand —glad to receive it. Not yet read, but will lie soon. The three poems'by “R. H. R ” we are sorry that we cannot find room for. The poems show a remarkable talent for versification, and a deci ded tendency towards poetry on the part of the writer. We do not know her age. If she is seventeen, or under, we would advise her to cul tivate her poetic talent very carefully. The Ball at 8., by W. W. Turner. This graphic sketch will have place in our columns as . soon as we get through with “ Jack Hopeton.” What the Moon Shines On —a poem by Miss Annie Blount—will appear soon. To Edward. —Pray take back your ten verses. We think no better of them because they were written in ten minutes. Spend ten hours on them—write them again, and then re-write them—keep them a month, and then, perhaps , we’ll give them place in the Field and Fireside. But we don’t promise. Cicero and Horace were not afraid of the labor limat ac mora. Nor is the Everett of to-day. Why should you be ? Let us, now that we are upon the subject, and once for all, say, that we will not, from fear, favor, or affection, admit off-hand trash, or la bored stupidity, into the poetical department of the Field and Fireside. Rather than so, we’ll publish “selected" poetry all the year round. We will not, of course, require the highest order of excellence; but there must be positive merit, or, if the writer be very young, good promise. We mean that admission into our columns shall be. and shall lie deemed, an honor. The Stomach, by R. H. Nisbet, is received, ; and will appear very soon. t Sadie. —Her communications are received and J will appear—one of them in our next. The Two Fathers, by J. A. Turner, has been j received, with pleasure, and shall have prompt attention. Several favors from Silajl Grey are also on hand. Books and Authors, on hand, and will soon have due consideration. American Literature, by J. A. T., with other articles, gladly acknowledged. We have also a package, doubtless containing many good tilings of Herbert, the English au thor, lately deceased. Two communications, from the author of A Dream of Locust DeU; one from W. W. T.; and The Early Settlers [of Georgia, from S. F. M.—re ceived just as we were going to press. Correspondents will please henceforth address their contributions and all communications, re lating to the Literary department of the Field and Fireside, to its Editor. i»i OUR CONTRIBUTORS. The desire was general among our corps of contributors to make their appearance in the first number of The Southern Field and Fireside. However agreeable to us, it was impossible to gratify all. Many are necessarily disappointed. In their disappointment we share; for we have much yet to publish that will adorn our columns and please our readers. It will not lose in in -1 terest by delay. In our amiable desire to please as many of our contributors of prose fictions as possible, we may have done temporary injustice by publish ’ ing too meagre a portion of several stories. In aiming at variety, we may have succeeded only in tantalizing, while seeking to please, our read ers. To all of them we quote the old Spanish proverb, which being translated saith: “Patience; and there will be an end of all tilings.” * THE BOY PREACHER. Who has not heard of him ?—that precocious youth of seventeen years, glowing with celestial fire, and endowed with a genius as bright as his enthusiasm in the cause of his Redeemer—who ■ has held audiences spell-bound by his eloquence, and moved hundreds to repentance ? We speak of Crammoxd Kennedy. Sojourn ing for a time in Georgia for his health, he wrote the poem, “Man is Immortal,” which will be . found in our columns. * ——lll ■ hereafter there shall ap r of this paper, carefully : foreign and domestic in ?ral other particulars; ar i to increase its usofulness ance, sliall be intro duced. le of contents will bo pre pared, and published at the end of every half THE WAR IN EUROPE. We had intended to write for the lirst num ber of the Field and Fireside a carefully pre pared column of comment and speculation upon the subject which heads these remarks. It is to be the prominent matter of interest anil of discussion in this country and in hurope, for many months, perhaps for several years to come. The war just commenced is likely, wc think, to agitate the world more deeply than any event which lias occurred since the fall of tho first Na poleon: deranging the commerce, the politics, the civil institutions of nations, and leading probably to a thorough remodeling of the map of Europe. We desired, upon this occasion, to develope at some length our views of the causes, latent and ostensible, which have brought two great military despotisms into conflict on the fields of Italy, and of the ends, real as well as pretended, which it is believed the principal ac tors propose to attain. But our purpose must be adjourned for the present, promising our selves to resume it in a future number. To-day we content ourselves with the bare statement of facts, which will enable our readers to form a correct idea of the present position of affairs, and acquaint them with the avowed motives and purposes of the several belligerants. From a very early date in modem history— almost from the commencement of the mon archies—France and Austria have been rivals, struggling for exclusive influence and power over tlie peninsula of Italy. The struggle has been marked with varying success. French and Austrian influence alternately predominated, the power being always shared between the rivals more or less equally, till the conquests of the first French Republic, at the close of the last century, utterly ejected the Austrians from the peninsula, and established the French domi nation. This domination, confirmed under Bo naparte, continued till the overthrow of the French Empire in 1815. Upon the occurrence of that event, the French, in their turn, were driven from Italy, and Austrian influence be came exclusively predominant. The map of Eu rope was re-made, and the ancient order of things, witli some modifications, re-established in Italy. The Bourbon Prince, with decidedly Austrian private and political sympathies, was restored to tho throne of Naples, at the south ern extremity of the peninsula. Next, on the north, came the Roman States, politically a des potic government —a hard and an odious one— its sympathies always Austrian whenever the French pressure allowed their free manifesta tion. North of Rome were re-established the Ducliies of Tuscany, Lucca, Modena, and Par ma, whose Princes were all bound closely to Austria by family ties, or by that stronger tie, found in a common principle of absolute govern ment, based on the “divine right of Kings.” Savoy und the Genoese Republic were awarded to Piedmont, forming, with the Island of Sar dinia, the present kingdom of that name. Lom bardy, of which Milan is tho capital, and the Venetian States, wsrc handed over to Austria, of wltieh empire they now form a part. The seeds of civil and political liberty, sowrn broadcast in Italy by the first French Republic, have taken root, and sprang up over all Italy. The ideas of national independence and of a united Italy havo spread widely, and are be coming increasingly popular among the masses. These circumstances, in connection with the really oppressive and odious character of all the Italian governments, except that of Sardinia, have produced for many years a chronip revolu tionary tendency in Italy. The Princes have never felt safe, and have only been safe in view of their standing armies. Weak, in their small territories and revenues, the Italian Princes have all learned to look to Austria for support upon their thrones. On the other hand, the revolution ary masses, democratic, republican, or iu favor o! constitutional monarchy have, throughout Italy, their eyes turned upon Victor Emmanuel, the the constitutional King of Sardinia. This Prince has been smitten with the ambition and the hope to become the King of a united, free, and independent Italy: and has proclaimed himsell the “ Captain” of the revolutionary and liberal party. Austria, for many years, has been si lently but aetivoly riveting her power upon It aly. She has made treaties with Naples, bind ing its King never to grant constitutional gov ernment to his people; and similar treaties with Modena, Parma, and the other less powers, giv ing to Austria the right of garrisoning fortresses within their territories, upon the plea that il those principalities were disquieted by revolu tionary movements, Austria's own tenure of the Lombardo-Venotian kingdom would be insecure. Austria has, for many years, occupied with her troops a portion of the Roman States. The Emperor of France disclaiming all views of personal ambition in connection with Italy, professing to be actuated only by his strong hor ror of the grinding military despotism which Austria has imposed upon her own provinces in northern Italy, and which she aids and abets in central and southern Italy, has protested against the actual condition of things, and the policy of Austria. Sympathizing with Sardinia, he de clares the Austrian occupation injurious to Italy', preventive of the development of that country, and virtually violative of the treaties of 1815. Sar dinia, backed by France, demands that the Aus trian occupation of the Duchies, Qf Roman ter ritory, and of the Sardinian frontier, cease forth with, and that Austria consent to exercise no more or other control over Italian affairs than the other great Powers. Austria has refused, alledging that her Italian policy is necessary for her own security. The affair has been in the hands of Diplomacy for five or six years. France and Sardinia proposed in 1856 that it should be brought before the European Congress. Austria declined this. Diplomatic negotiation continued. The breach between Sardinia and Austria grew wider. French sympathy with suffering Italy grew stronger. A Congress, to meet for the set- tlement of the Italian questioa and to which all the powers with more or less sincerity assented, lias failed to meet. An ultimatum of Austria to Sardinia requiring her to disarm immediately, has been met by refusal and defiance; the Aus trian troops have invaded Piedmont, and are marching on Turin; an army of 80,000 French are pouring into Italy' by Mt. Cenis and Genoa. It is commanded in person by the Emperor of France: and before this, doubtless, thousands of slain strew the battle-fields of Italy. Perhaps Marengo itself lying as it does upon the scene of the present action, has been the theatre of another bloody drama. But space and time both foil us. We will re new the subject at an early day. — Late advices from Europe inform us of the death of three distinguished men whose loss will be regretted in the walks of Literature and Science, throughout the civilized world— Alexis de Tocqueville, Baron Humboldt, and Dr. Lardxer. Each had achieved a world-wide reputation; and all of them have many personal friends in the United States, who will receive this intelligence of their death with sincere re gret. Biographic sketches of these illustrious persons will appear in future numbers of this paper. — i- JgP Preserve all numbers of the Field and Fireside; for if you do not want them, some planter, farmer or gardener will for future" ref erence. £3P We have a rich repertory from which to select the contents of our second number. — Among its attractions will be found a revised poem of considerable length, The Lost Pleiad, by W. Gilmore Simms, L. L. D., with an intro duction by the author. The stories already com menced, will be continued. Articles in prose, by Mrs. Ann Cora Ritchie and Madame Octavia Walton Le Vert, will also have place in our next, with others, from various sources, which we would have been glad to press into the pres ent number, but have found it impossible. We expect soon to receive weekly letters from an able Paris Correspondent: and are making other arrangements by which to obtain regularly and directly from Europe the latest information, literary and scientific, political and fashionable, which would prove interesting and valuable to any class of our readers. ——i b > ■ [Written for the Southern Field anil Fireside.] LIKES, FROM TIIE FRENCH OF HUGO. The grave to the rose once said— “ What dost thou do with the tears that are shed By Aurora o’er thee, pray?” And thou, with those thou dost safely hide, Said the roae, “in thy depths—dark, deep, and wide, From the life of light and day?” Oh, grave, the rose replies, “ I make from these tears to rise A thousand sweets at my nod.” Says the grave— thy odors die With thee; But of ev’ry soul that rests with me, I make an angel for God! WILUAM CIMMINO WILDE. New Orleans. Injustice both to Mr. Wilde and to the French poet and that the reader may see with what fidelity and ele gance the translator has rendered into English the pretty conceit of Victor IIi'GO, we append below the original conplet from the volume of his poems, entitled Les Voir Interienres : La tombe dit a la rose: —Des pleurs dout l’aube t’ arrose ? Que fais-tu flour des amours? La rose dit a la tombe; —Que fais-tu de-ce qui tombe I)aus ton gouffre ouvert toujouos? La rose dit:—tombeau sombre. De ces pleurs je fais, dans 1’ ombre, Un parrum il’ ambre et de miel. La tombe dit:—Flenr plaintive, De chaque sue qui m’ arrive Je fais unange ilu ciel! — Give a man brains and riches, and he is a king; give him brains without riches and he is a slave; give him riches without brains and lie is a fool. [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] MY LITTLE AIMEE. She sat at my feet, in that dim and quiet room, with the open book upon her knee, and iier sweet, earnest eyes fixed lovingly upon its solemn words. All around and above me stood, in their dark cor ners, ponderous old volumes filled with worldly lore and man}’ a quaint device of human thought. The wisdom of many lands—the poet’s song— the artist’s dream—the patient toil of the man of science—the fierce struggle of the warrior for what the world calls glory—all were there—and this had been my world! Had it yielded me the peace I sought! I looked upon the innocent young head, bowed down in its sjlent worship, and then far away, down the long vista, to the green paths of my happy childhood. My mother's kiss had left its soft blessing on my brow. My mother’s prayer had gone up with a trembling trust to the God of tho fatherless. I remembered it now, and how I had turned from it all, and gone out into the strife and turmoil of life, and climbed up the steep pathways of Fame, and wots the crown. I went out witli the shining garments of inno cence, but they had grown dark with the deep stains of eartliliness and sin. God had given me an angel to walk with me, “by the way;” and she had gently led me almost to the gates of Heaven; but when the golden portals closed on her, I had wandered back to earth. And now, a weary old man, I sat alone with the beautiful memories and fairy visions that I had called Life. IVas this to be the end of all? The sunshine came softly through the open casement, and fell like a diamond shower upon my little guileless one. It touched, as with a “sudden glory,” every hue and blossom, and shone tenderly down into the drooping hearts of the pale, pure snow drops, that she loved so well. It sparkled over rock and river, kill and valley. The little bu-ds poured forth their glad melody, and the sweet South wind gathered the rich in cense of perfume and song, and bore it up to Heaven. But its work was not yet done. It threw its departing splendor into that darkened room, and brightened many a recess and forgot ten nook—pouring its last radiance, like a bap tismal blessing, alike upon the glad and tlio wea ry hearted. And as my chastened spirit once more went up to the mercy seat, beseeching to “become as a little child,” my Aimee’s eyes lin gered upon her mother’s Bible, and the sweet words of peace and pardon, written, as with the sunbeam, came softly to my heart—“ Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” mr • [ W ritten for thc.Southern Field and Fireside.] •BALLAD-AT3BEA.! V j BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, ES<J. L The jewePd breast of night Swells calm beyond the breeze — While, like a binl, we take our flight O'er wild and lonely seas! Yet many a prayer is given, To ward the tempest’s wrath; And hearts, laid bare to Heaven, (Dearhearts! sweethearts!) Send blessings on our path! IL One home, I know, in sleeping; One sweet cottage home! Ah! there, one heart is weeping Within a silent room! Her fancies follow last my flight— She strains her eyes throughout the dark. And shuddering, fears, in Btorm and night, (Sweet heart! fond heart!) That wild seas wreck my barque! ill. Ah, me! how still wo doubt, Even of the hope possess’d; As ruby lips will perk and pout, Though pleased to be caressed! A sudden doubt, if weeping now, That loved one watches sad and lone; A jealous fancy racks my brow— (Frail heart! false heart!) Am I forgot as soon as gone? IV. We vex our hearts with idle fearsj For, ah! too well we know how soon The smile will chase away the tears. To loving memories such a boon— And thus we doubt if they are sad. The distant dear ones whom we fly; We fancy that each face is glad, (Vain hearts! false hearts!) With thoughtless joy in every eye! * v. That, through the gay saloon they rove, ■While mirth and music glad the sense; Hear other lips in speech of love. To other hearts make recompense; That, circled by a stranger's arms, The faithless loved one, shaming both, To other words of pleading warms— (Frail heart! false heart!) And all forgets her plighted troth! VI Let me not doubt the maid / love; Yet, ah! what hours of true delight, Would I to fortune now forgive, To know she sorrows through the night! Hears rising winds with rising tears, Watches each cloud-wreath through the day, And in her chamber, pale with fears, (Sweetheart! dear heart!) Weeps the slow, weary night aw ay! Orr Hattrras, Mat, 198-. tar We happen to know that the portfolio from which the “Zap of the Sunbeam ” has been with much diffi culty extracted, contains numerous other lays, sung in the same pretty strain. We hope soon to see another and another of them transferred from our correspondent's portfolio to our own. They arc little “ sunbeams ” them selves, with which we shall always be glad to illuminate our columns. Here is an evident talent which has evi dently been cultivated—for one don't write such verses without considerable previous practice in versification- The same remurk is suggested by the beautiful poetical contribution by Koeisshnus, “A Dream of Heaven,’ which will appear in our next Our correspondents are aware upon what good authority folly is charged on him who “lights a candle and puts it under a bushel.’’ But are they not making “bushels” of their portfolios? We hope they will use, without delay* the “candle-stick” which we offer them. [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] THE LAY OF THE SUNBEAM. 1 lie on the mountains us sweet and as mild, As a Hose on the breast of an innocent child, And I hie me way down to the valley below, As noiseless and fleet as a spirit could go! I pass thro’ the window all darkened by pain. To bring back the dreamlngs of gladness again,— And I lay me down softly the cradle beside, Like a promise of joy, to the pathway untried! I'm in the lone attic where never a song, Os Mnsic or Pleasure would seem to belong— Yet I throw o’er its darkness a glimmer of light, So pensive in beauty, we cling to the sight! My being is varied—l’m up with the day, But long before evening, I’m passing away— Yet, changeful and transient. I’m bright to the last. As a hope in the heart, or a dream in the Past! I am lovely and loved, for I come from the sky. Yet dearer to Earth than to Heaven am I! For I cast the sweet mantle of Peace o’er the mind. And leave not a token of Sorrow behind! With my silvery pencil I stroke the blue sea, And gem the bright waves as they float over me— On the white beach I make me a pillow to sleep, But the Oate of the morn ’tis my province to keep, With the gentlest of brashes I garnish its bars. And dimmed is the light of the glorious stars— Then away down the slope of the hill to the plain, I am oft on my mission of beauty again! I stay not a moment, for sweet is my play, With tho dew in the grass, at the opening of day— And the shadow I leave in my beautiful path. Like the fading of Autumn, its radiance hath! I am sent to the heart-stricken mourner below, Yet a stranger am 1 to the anguish of woe, No grief have I tasted, no loss have I known, For I live in the Sunshine —the Sunshine alone! Yet the track of my falls soft’mid the gloom; As a smile to a tear, so am I to the tomb. And aloft thro’ the shade of the Cypress I plant. My beautiful banner all shining aslant! I fear not the dark-winged Angel of Death, Yet I fly from the storm with its pitiless breath— E'en the glare of the lightning grows faint on the mind, As I bear my light form, on the wings of the wind, And speed like a Spirit whose mission is done, To the “crown of my glory,” the beautiful Sunl — Authors. —Men who write well and act ill resemble the sun. Which, while ft gives light to inferior bodies, (if we may believe Peyroux de la Cadroixere) is itself as dark as a pigsty; or, like the bones of Elijah, which gave life and breath to another and remained dead themselves. •— 11 > Friendship requires action—Love requires not so much proofs, as expressions of love. Love demands little else titan the power to feel and to requite love.—Jean Paul. Nothing remains so long in the memory as wrong deeds. They are nettles which cannot be ploughed out of sight, but will'spring up with fresh stings at every disturbance. — “Pray don’t darn your cobwebs," was Swift's advice to a gentleman of strong imagination and weak memory, who was laboriously explaining himself.