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k-t&s.K -£ii&s ■■ Sk&toT.***: ••- Wj i JAMES GARDNER, I • | Proprietor. f VOL. 1. . ■ __ - [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] THE OLD COB PIPE BEHIND THE CLOCK. BY 1. A. TCSXEE. The old cob pljie behind the clock Hath many a pleasant tale to tell; For 'tis the key to memory's lock, That opes the bosom's Inmost cell. Kuwrapt within its wreathe maze, Amid the scenes of quiet mirth. I've seen the loved of better days, Tlte dearest friends to me on earth. Beside the fire my father sat, My good old mother by his side, While, mewing round their feet, the cat To win their kindly notice tried. Ami as our brother whiffed the smoke. In purple wreaths, the Are beside, He stirred our mirth with many a joke. And oiled the fonnt of pleasure wide. In distant lands, now, far away, Our wayward brother restless roam#: But oft, in memory, through the day. And dreams by night, dear Richard comes. Since far away from home he strays, We keep the key to memory's lodT Hard by the hearth-stone's cheerful blaze, His old eob pipe- behtDd the clock. May 18,1559. [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] Entered oecnrdihq to the Act of Cougre**, the., <£<■•• by the Author. MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN; OR, A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS, WHO WAS KI'INEI) BY BAD LUCK. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC. CHAPTER 11. Master Mitten forms new acquaintances — Passes through several streaks of bail luck, and finally gets into a broad belt of it. The reader will remember that wo left Mrs. Mitten resolved tp remove Master William from Mr. Markham's school. Her resolution was car ried into effect; ’and she forthwith began to look out for a private teacher Air her son. But un luckily n«-such teacher was just then to be found; she was constrained, therefore, to (advertise for one; and though she placed her advertisement in three Gazettes, of pretty general circulation, three months rolled away before any one prof fered his services to Master William. In the meantime our little hero was a gentleman at | large; and having -formed many acquaintances at school, common courtesy required that he should give them as much of his attention as he could. Accordingly he was with them at every intermission of their studies, and took great pleasure in attending the evening parties of such as were smart enough to do without evening study. These soon became so frequent, that William entirely neglected his mother’s parties for them; by means whereof his mother and her friends lost the entertainment which he used to afford them, upon such occasions. Sheßßen de manded of him explanations of his discourtesy to liis old admirers, which he promptly gave, to her entire satisfaction. »Sometimes he was at the Juvenile Debating Society; at others he was at a Prayer-Meeting; at-one time he “went to hear Parson Deleth’s Lecture.” (On the imjiortanee of the Oriental Languages, to the student of Theology.) At another he went to hear the Eu terpean band; and at all other times, he was taking tea with good boys, or engaged in some laudable employment. As the young Glibs had rather more leisure than any other boys in town, and as their mother had charged them to culti vate a close acquaintance with Master William, they were frequently thrown together. At first William was rather shy of those acquaintances; but as they forced themselves into liis company, pleading their mother’s order for so doing, ije could not well refuse to take them under his moral training. Accordingly they soon became very intimate; and William was pleased to find that they were by no moans as bad boys as bis mother took them to lie. Withal he soon dis covered that they were possessed of a vast fund of information, which the}’ communicated to him freely; iftst to his astonishment, and afterwards to his delight. They knew who had the best apples, peaches, plums, cherries and melons in the town and neighborhood—what gardens con tained the most strawberries, raspberries, grapes, figs and pomegranates —who had the earliest and latest fruits—what time bad dogs wore turned loose,, at night-r-where liens, guinea-chickens, ducks and turkeys, weixTin tlie habit of laying. They were masters of all culinary matters, ex cept the higher branches of cookery. They were abolitionists of the most generous stamp; dis daining the distinctions of color, and holding out the ihost liberal encouragements to slave indus try, by promising the most liberal prices for such little dainties and curiosities as the poor slave might have to dispose of. Nor were these young gentlemen, without p:rsonal accomplishments, corresponding with their vast mental endow ments. They were the most expert climbers of ' frees and fences in the country. They were good riders and better runners. Though one of them was two months, another, fifteen and another thirty-seven months older than William, they could slip through gaps that he feared to attempt. They could heel a game-cock, whet a jack-knife, and shoot a pistol, with unrivalled skill—their age considered. They could recog nize people in tlie dark with the eye of an owl; and run lialf-lient in gutters and ditches, faster | than William could, on a plain. They could per i form many amusing and ingenious tricks with j cards; and smoke segars, chew tobacco and ; drink cordial, "apple-toddy, egg-nog and the like, j with marvelous grace and impunity. At the end of three or four weeks freftn tlie time that William left school. Mr. Markham’s j examination came off, and mqst of the town at- i tended it. The visitors were, os usual, lilieral in their praises of such as did well; and these, William, who was present, heard with painful emotions. They were praises which made his tea-party-compliments seem insignificant. Here was competition and not one was praised, of whom he did know himself to lie decidedly the superior. The examination closed with an allot ment of prizes to the best in the several classes, by judges appointed for that.purpose. William saw one and another distributed with increasing dejection and self-reproach. At length George Markham was called out on the stage, and Judge Dawson advancing to him with a largo silver medal suspended by a crimson ribbon with ; tasteful decorations, obsßved: “ Master George, in the course of the examination you have la- J liored under some disadvantages; for the judges, , from an apprehension that their high respect for j your teacher, might lie unconsciously transferred to his son, have been more vigilant of inaccura cies in you tlian in any of your school mates. So well have you acquitted yourself, however, tliat you have entirely relieved us from all ap prehension of doing you injustice on either hand, and we presume there will not be a dissenting voice in this large and respectable assembly, to onr judgment, which awards to you tlie. first honor in your class; in token of which we pre sent you this beautiful medal. Remember, con tinued Judge Dawson, as lie placed the loop of tlie riblion over tlie head of Master George, and dropt tlie medal on liis breast —remember as often as you look upon that medal, that on tlie i day you received it, you raised the liighest ex- i peetiitions of your future distinction, and resolve never to disappoint them.” As the judge con cluded, the house thundered with applause. William dropt his head and wept bitterly; for , he felt that all this would have been his, had lie 1 ; remained at school. In the afternoon the usual exhibition came oft’. We may not dwell upon the performance of each of the students respectively. For reasons which will be hereafter observed, we notice but two. The fourth sjieaker called out was Master i John Brown! John stept out so completely metamorphosed, that William himself hardly knew'him. His liair was eomlied down straight and ijliekß The lard-gourd had obviously been laid under contributions for it. His feet were disguised under shoes and stockings. His suit was all new, r.nd of course all of one color. His mother had tried herself upon it from the spin ning of tlie first thread, to tlie fitting of it on. But nature had decreed that John should be a funny looking fellow in spite of dress; and as he stept to the centre of the stage, as if laboring under a slight founder, (for shoes manifestly pes tered him) an involuntary smile diffused itself over every countenance. He made liis bow, and in a clear, distinct, audible voice, he began; “Ladies and Gentlemen: You will not be surprised that I should have selected as my theme for your entertainment tliis afternoon tlie incalculable advantages of personal beauty." Here it seemed that the house would be knocked to pieces. Men, women and children laughed and thumped immoderately; and even Mr. Markham could not preserve his usual grav ity. Mrs. Brown plainly showed that her trou ble in rigging out John was repaid by the very first sentence. With almost every other, tlie same scene was renewed; until at length all re spect for.order seemed to be forgotten; and such commendations as these might lie heard in un dertones all over the house: Well done, fiat lieadl Hurra short-neek! Bravo pug-nose! I foil you stiff-leg is some! “ Give me homespun at last." John concluded, and had it been allowa ble, he, doubtless, would have been encored at least three times. He owed most of liis credit to the patient and careful drilling of his teacher, I but there were few in tlie school who could have | improved good drilling as well as John did. Next to John’s speech, the most amusing thing in tlie exhibition was a dialogue between George Markham and David Thompson, which elicited great applause. At the conclusion of the exercises, honors were a second time distributed, and young Markham was again complimented with a prize. Brown got one, of course, which was rendered doubly complimentary, by another peal of applause as he received it. All this was slow murder to William Mitten. Nor did his tortures end here. Seeing his unde and Mr. Markham in conversation as the com pany retired, he flattered himself that they were AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 1859. - - ..... : - - - - ■ | 111.. ..J.™... ■!£ l_l negotiating for his rdLim to school, and he drew near to them unobserved by either, mid over heard this conversation: “ That little fellow Brown is an odd looking fish, Mr. Markham, but there’s some gumption in him after nil." “He’s rough material to polish, but he has some talent: and, if lie can lie made to study, he may lie a man of worth yet.” “' I eongrarulale you on the very handsome manner in which your sou acquitted himself in j everything.” “He may thank Mrs. Mitten for his honors of to-day. for had she suffered her son to remain at school, George would not have touched a single honor. When William studied (and lie had be- j gnn to study well) he was vastly superior to i George in everything. The dialoguo was writ- ; ten on purpose to show off his wonderful dra- j matie talent. George’s part was designed for him, and your son's for George; and I'll venture to j say. that I can take William and read over the • part to him but once, and he will perform it de cidedly lietter than George diu. He spoke be fore me hut three or four times while lie was with me. The lirst time, I read over his piece to him after he laid repeated it, and made him deliver it again; and I was amazed to see how exactly he followed my reading in every respect. Take hint altogether, I think lte is decidedly the smartest boy 1 ever had in my school.'' Here the conversation was interrupted by the wingrat ulations of several other, geutkanen. William went home in tortures, and hardly ; slept a wink that night I(e would have given ■ the world for (he honors and praises which 1 George Markham liad received that day; and lie would have been willing to have changed per ■ sons with John Brown, for the trophies which : John had. The next morning he recounted to his mother j all the events of the day, and particularly, tlie | conversation which he had heard lietween his | uncle and Mr. Markham. She was now stung i | nearly, or quite, ns deeply as her son. But what j could" she do? Her vow was out, and it must j . be kept. “Well, my .child,” said she despondinglv, “all j | lifts only goes to show that you are born to ill- j i luck. But I hope it is all for'the best. Those j S who are unlucky in youth arc apt to be lucky | i in old age, it is said—and I hope it will be so 1 with you.” “ Ma. when j'ou get your private teacher will he have any exhibitions ?’’ “No, my son, be will have no scholar hut you.” “ Then 1 don’t want to go to a private teacher.” “But remember my eliiltl, that as lie will have but you one to attend to, he can teach you a j great deal better, and bring you on a great deal faster than Mr. Markham could, who has so i | many in charge, And study well, and you will | soon enter college, wliero yon will have an op- j portunity of showing off yous talents not simply to a village; but to a whole State.’! “ And how long will it lie before I can go to 1 college?” “With your gifts, and a private teacher, I have no doubt you will lx? prepared to enter col lege in four years at the outside.” “Why, Ma, I’ll be dead before four years!” “ Oh, I hope not; they will roll round before you are aware of it” As the private teacher liad not yet been found, | William had nothing to do for the present, and ► lie resumed his attention to public and devotion- j al exercises, in fellowship with the young Glibs, and others of their stamp. A few days after this, Parson Turner was an nounced as wishing to have a few minutes pri vate conversation with Mrs. Mitten. He was ushered into the parlor; and Mrs. Mitten soon followed him. “ Mrs. Mitten,” said the Parson, “ I have called on you to beg of you to keep your son at homo : on Wednesday nights. He and the Glibs come to the church where we hold our prayer-meet- ] ings. and sometimes at the door, and sometimes in the gallery, keep up such a laughing, dinting ; and groaning, that it is next to impossible fonts ! to proceed with our devotions.” “ Why, Parson Turner, you must be mistaken 1 I I have always taught my child to treat religious services with most profound respect; and for | reasons that need not be mentioned, I am confi i dent that lie is hardly acquainted with the j Glibs’.” "No. madam, there is no mistake about it— -1 We all know him very well.” Well, Parson Turner, I will enquire into the matter, and, if I find it so, I null see to it that my son disturbs you no more.” “ Whether you find it so or not, I assure you madam it is so.” So saying, he took his leave. He liad not been gone long, when William came in. - William.” said his mother, “do you associate with the Glibs?" “They sometimes come to where I am, and then I can’t get rid of them; but I don’t go where they are.” “ ’Well, now, I strictly forbid you from associ ating with those boys. They are very bad boys and unfit company for you. Parson Turner says yon go with them to the church, and behave verv rudely during prayer-meeting. Is that soi 1 William?” "Twasu’t me. Ma, it was the Glib-lxiys.” “How came von there with the Glib-bovs, at i all?” “ 1 said I was going to the prayer-meeting and they followed me.” “ Well, my son. I’m very glad to leant that you didn’t luistiebave at the meeting. Brought up as piously as you have been, I didn't think it possi | ble that you could treat religious services with ; contempt. When you go to such meetings, (which I am glad to find yoifcdisposed to do) take your seat near-the leader of them, and had boys will not follow you there. Never have anything to do with boys that can trifle with sacred things, i It’s the worat sign in the world.” "Mr. Turner went from Mrs. Mitten’s to Mrs. I Glib’s, and repeated his story.” “Mrs. Glib received him with a wireless , chuckle, and said to him, “Oh, Mr. Turner, I wouldn't mind little thoughtless lioys; tliey trill have their fun: but tliey’ll quit these things when they grow older. - I’m very cautious against reproving my children for little childish freaks in church, lest I should excite in them a danger ous and lasting prejudice against religion.” Mr. Turner, after sitting petrified for about a | lmlf minute, rose and abruptly left the house. About noon on the following Thursday. Mrs. Glib came over to Mrs. Mitten's, in a great flur ry. “Oh,” exclaimed she, ns she entered the house, “do yon know, Mrs. Mitten, there’s a warrant twit against all our children! I got wind of it and hid my children; but I’m told tliey’ve got William—” "A warrant!” shrieked Mrs. M. .“In mer cy’s name tell me what lias my child Vieen doing to have a warrant out against him?’’ "Oh, nothing of any consequence—don’t lie 1 i alarmed—nothing hut disturbing a prayer-meet- j ing. Squire Crumb says there’s no law for it; and if there was, throwing stones at a house j i and setting off squibs at the door would not lie ! ; against the law; and if he was employed, he’d j blow it all up. But Judge Dawson says there is a law against disturbing worshipping assem j blies. I was afraid of this, when Turner went 1 about complaining of the lioys for their little i sports. You know .such things always make | them mad, and worse than ever.’.’ Mr. Mitten was nearly distracted; for licr luted was filled with jails, and punishment, and eter nal disgrace, which she supposed the invariable j accompaniments of warrants. Her brother Da vid was sent for, post-haste: and he was soon at Mr. Justice Easy’s office, where William was under arrest. A short interview lietween him j and Parson Turner settled the matter amicably. The latter told him all that had transpired, and said lie saw no other way of stopping these hopeful youths; but that if Mr. Thompson would ! pledge himself that they would disturb the meet ings no more, lie would stop the prosecution. The pledge was given, aud the matter was set tled. This done. Mr. Thompson proceeded with i William to his sister’s, where he found the two mothers. “Where are your children, madam?” said Thompson sternly to Mrs. Glib. “Why, they—l expect they are—that is, I think it likely—which one of them ?” “ Why, all of them, madam;" “ Oil, I have not seen one of them since quite ! early this morning. What did you want with f them, Captain Thompson ?” “/ wished to know from their own lips wheth er, if I get them out of this scrape, they’ll let j people pray in peace hereafter.” “Oh, yes, yes, yes—l’ll engage for them; and , I will consider myself under everlasting obliga- | tions to you, Captain, if vou’ll get them out” “I must have the pledge from their own lips.” “Well, I’ll run over home and see if tliey arc J not there. I’ve no doubt they are, for they al ways come home about this hour—what o’clock is it?” "Half after twelve.” “ Oh, if it’s as late as that, I’m sure I shall find them at home. Stay a minute, Captain, and : I’ll run over and bring them.” She soon returned, with her three lioys, who were placed with William before the Captain.* “Do you know, young gentlemen,” said lie, with great solemnity, “ that you have violated the laws of your country ?—that a warrant has boon issued againt you, to vindicate the offended majesty of the people’s laws?” (Here the la dies looked much alarmed.) “ That, unless some liody will befriend you, your mothers are liable j to be mulct in pounds of money; and that you are liable to be cast in prison for ten long days and nights, with nothing to eat but bread and waiter, and nothing to sleep on but the hard floor and a few blankets? Then lie dragged tty* court of justice, before the eyes of the world, and there to be tried, by a jury of-*’ t ‘ ,v e men duly empanelled to pass betweei T ou ** n< * your injured, insulted country ? '®® n - w * ien convicted, (as you are certain tc b°-) that you are to lie turned over to Judj* Dawson, (who always respects religion, an* '"’hose wife is a most excellent member o 10 church,) to be dealt with according to >he law in such case made and prowled ? do you furthermore know, that all four of you are .posting to the I Two Dollars Per Annum, I Always in Advance. devil just as fast an lie would have you go? Do ' von know all this, my hopeTul young friends?” " Yes, sir,” answered the lx>ys. Very welL Now, lam disposed to befriend < you all; but I desire to know what lam to ex- , peet from yon, if I do; for I don't wish to get *i myself into any more trouble on your account. If I ran l>e certain that you will never get into , any more such scrapes, ill hush up all this mat- r ter. as I know I cau; but I must liave a prom- , ise from all of you that, if I do, I shall have no more such matters to hush up. As for Bill there. I’ll manage him myself; and if lie goes to f disturbing religious mootings again, after the trouble he has given me, and after I have v snatched him from the clutches of the luw, I'll 1 give liim the timber myself harder than Mark- ( ham did, mother or no mother, objection or no objection." e > • ' jPj •‘Jn such case, hrotlier David, I think you ' would lie perfectly justifiable, after you have stood his security and— ’’ p •‘Certainly, certainly,” said Mrs. Glib; “and in sucli case, I would not think of opening my v i mouth, if he should whip my children, too.” “Well, will your children make the promise, _ ' or will they prefer going to jail?" , “ Why, Captain. 1 would not own them if they / refused." They arc too high minded and honora ble to refuse so great a favor upon such easy terms.” J|J “Very wcP. George Washington Alexander 1 twjWiw Glib: Doyou promise me here, in the presence of your mother and Mrs. Mitten, that * I if I stop this prosecution, so that it shall not harm you or your mother, or your brothers, that * you will never disturb another religious meeting t ; while you live, either by moutlt, foot, or hand, 1 inside or outside of the house; and that you will show no rudeness, in any form or way, to p Parson Turner, at any time or in any place ? Do i JOB?”’ |ij| “Yes. sir.” % "Thomas Jefferson Napoleon Bonaparte Glib: Do you make tlie same promise that your broth er has just made?” “Yes, sir.” “Benjamin Franklin Pulaski Lafayette Glib: Do you make the K»me promise?” m p "Yes. sir.” ~ ; ''Well, remain here five minutes, and if in J that time I do not return, you may be certain ‘i that the matter is satisfactorily settled.” So say- i mg, he retired. "Oh. Mrs. Mitten,” said Mrs. Glib, “what an excellent, excellent man, that brother of yours is. I shall love him as long aR I live.” ” Brother David has a good lieart, though he p j is sometimes rough in his manner. Was #vqr child so unfortunate as mine ? It is an old max im, that one had tetter be bom lucky tlian rich, and I believe it. Brother David will probably settle the suit; but who is to wipe out the stain | from my child's character ?” - A “Dear me, Mrs. Mitten, the thing will be for gotten in a week! Kverybody knows that it , was but a childish frolic, that nobody but old W ; Turner would liave noticed; and I shall make it my business to give him my mind upon it very ; freely, the first time I meet him. I'm under no ! promise, if my children are.” j “ 1 cannot blame Parson Turner, Mrs. Glib, i and I hope you will not.” A The fire, and even ten minutes rolled away, and, Mr. Thompson not returning, Mrs. Glib i moved off with her sons, looking very little like p ■ their namesakes. [TO HE COXIIXCEJ).] V Anecdote or McDonald Clark, the Mad 'j Poet.— Kverybody remembers M’Donald Clark.' who was well known in Ijew York, a few year l since, as the “ Mad Poet.” During the last war J of his life Clark made free of the Astor Vousc table, and oftentimes this errant man e s gemus | could Vie seen accepting hospitality v hen other \ ; doors were closed on his fallen forig®*- Byery j one knew him bv sight: one da’t while quietly jp ! taking his dinner, two travel** seated them- , selves opposite, commenced-* conversation, m- , . tended for tlie ears of Cl}-*-. sal “, : “Well I have i n Tork two months, and have a* « U I wish to see With j one tb» other, “What is that?” “ M'Donahlj4 tlie great poet,” responded No. 1, with emphasis. Clark «*ed Ins eyes slowly from his plate, and sec* 1 * that the attention of the table was <■ on hu*i stood up, placing his hand over his heart, % an.’ bowing with groat gravity to the strangers “lam M Donald Clark, the great poet.” m The traveler started in mock surprise, gazed at him in silence for a few moments, then amidst an nudable titter of the company, drew from his J pocket a quarter of a dollar, ami laying it before Clark, still looked at him without a smile. Clark raised the quarter in silence and dignity, be- > stowed it in his pocket, drew thence a shilling, j which lie deposited before the traveler, with these woTds: j “ Children half prioe.” W The titter changed to a roar, and tlie travelers « were missing instanter. A - : •' ' - .V. 'i'fe .£1 —i -rr »; -r NO. 2. ‘ ——. ?