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76
LITERARY^
WILLIA!H W. MANN, Editor.
The Soutliern Field and Fireside
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TO CORRESPONDENTS AND CONTRIBUTORS.
We inadvertently omitted to say, in answer to “ Vir
ginia's" second Dote, refusing to disclose her name, that
we have, as she requested, destroyed her communication,
without reading it. It required some resolution to do
this; for we are sufficiently a son of Eve to have felt a
strong temptation to read the communication after we
were forbidden to do so. “It is very short,” said we,
to ourselves, “ aipl beautifully written; it could be read
in five minutes :" and we spent more than five minutes
in regretting that we had not read the article at the time
of its reception. In conclusion, we tore it into fifty
small pieces, and threw them to the winds. “It is better
so,” said we, os the bits of paper whirled away in the
air, “the reading it would have only increased our
regret at not being able to publish the article; for we are
sure, from the fair ehlrography, and graceful style of the
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communication would have adorned our columns.”
“ A young man of energy and perseverance,” who is
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tion relatire to the manners, customs, and cost of living,
health, soil, climate, Ac., of that country, the cost, and
inode of getting there, and his prospects after arriving.
We have not at hand the information desired, and could
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ing for us to take.
The young friend who sends us some “lines not
verses" will thank us, we are sure, a year hence, for
having declined giving place in our columns to the com
munication sent We would not discourage the writer.
The lines evince talent; and wc hope ere long to re
ceive from this promising pen, articles, in prose and
verse, that we shall be glad to publish; and it is for the
writer's sake, no less than for our paper's, that we decline
the present communication.
Another correspondent requests us not to acknowl
edge the reception of her article unless It shall be ac
cepted Air publication. We will remember all her re
quests; but her communication has not yet been read,
for want of time.
We have received, during the week, the following
favors from correspondents and contributors :
The Mysterious Messenger, a talc—by Lizzie THURS
TON.
Bonthillier de Ranee— by Emmie Emerald.
My Uncle Billy’s First Love—by his Pkt.
The Release, a poem—by Helen Geev.
Sabbath Evening Thoughts—by Helen Grey.
Life’s Shadow and Sheen—by Helen Geev,
To S. L. M.—by Mat Myrtle.
Lines for an Album —by G. P. T.
The Contract—by Frederick Jones.
Italy—by C. E. G.
To Woman —by L. M. C.
Lines for an Album—by L. M. C.
Quiet, A Paradox —by Ascrole.
Love and Glory, a Paradox—by Abceolb.
tr Wo published, last week, upon tho au
thority of a respectable correspondent, whose
name we have, an original religious anecdote,
entitled “Going it Blind,” which the writer
averred to be “atrue statement of facts.”
A western editor, a Thersites of the press,
the fear of whom we happened not to have before
our eyes, has taken prompt and wrathful ex
ception to the anecdote. Our equanimity shall
not be disturbed by the characteristic, unbecom
ing manner ip which our critic has administered
his reproof. We will not even allow it to deter
us from admitting that we were wrong. Be the
anecdote in question true or not, we believe,
upon reflection, that it would have been better
not to give it place in the columns of the Field
and Fireside: apd in future we shall be more
careful. Oure is a family paper, which we are
striving to introduce as a welcome guest into
every Southern parlor w | sh - lt to be readi
approved, and supported, by men of all political
parties, and of all religious sects. To this end,
it should be, and we mean that it shall be, pa
triotic, but not partisan; religious, but not sec
tarian. We would not willingly give place in
it to any thing that could reasonably offend any
class, however small, of good men and worthy
citizens. We know that there are many such in
the religious sect at which the invidious anec
dote of last week was particularly aimed; and
therefore we regret having published it
In conclusion, we would inform tho editor
whose scurrilous criticism has given occasion to
these remarks, that the editors of the Field and
Fireside, and they alone, determine, each m his
own department, what shall be admitted into,
and what excluded from its columns. In the
exercise of this function, they are subject to no
control or supervision. We hope that our cen
sor will remember this. Not that we suppose
it matters much to him at whom he flings his
missiles —so they but hit somebody, it is enough.
But if, hereafter, the Field and Fireside should be
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him remember that it is to the editors, exclusivel y
that his censure should, injustice, be addressed.,
In the meantime, he has our best wishes for
the improvement of his temper and style.
SI
IKK SOVSXSUt VXE&S &D FXRKSJJMB.
FROM OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT.
Paris, 7th July, 1859.
It is quite a disappointment—but I really
cannot send you this time a new battle and
victory. It is not our fault. The Austrians ap- I
parentlv do not care to be beaten again in the open
Held. Leaving a small garrison at Mantua, they ;
seem to have concentrated the bulk of their .
forces at Verona, where that brutal soldier, !
General Urban is making preparations fora long
siege, which Napoleon only awaits the arrival j
of his siege-artillery to commence —and to end j
shortly. For, not only is Verona no Sebastopol,
and Venetia no Crimea, but the motley garrison
are no Russians. Victor Emmanuel is besieging
Feschiera in form by land; the French gun-boats
will soon be pounding it from the lake. In 1849,
it yielded after eighteen day’s attack. True it has
been strengthened considerably since then ; but
Victor Emmanuel's army also is stronger and
better appointed than was Charles Albert’s. Gari- j
baidi is operating to interrupt communications
between Verona and the upper valley of the
Adige. Napoleon, leaving a sufficient force to
blockade Mantua, lias marched the main body
of his army into the heart of the famous quadri
lateral, and, as I said, is only waiting for his
heavy artillery to push on to Verona. We
Parisians, therefore, are balked for another week
in our expectation of tho “ usual Friday meet
ing." Friday is losing with sceptical French
men all that bad reputation given to the day
by old superstition. The battles of Montebello,
Turbigo (the .prelude to Magenta,) and Solferino
wer* all fought and won on Friday.
In the first authoritative report the French
confess to the loss in this last named battle
of 12,000 killed and wounded, besides 720 officers
hors de combat, of whom 150 killed. This re
markable destruction of officers was the work
of the Tyrolese sharp-shooters, the most intelli
gent and effective, as the Croats are the stupid
est and least effective of the enemy’s forces.—
On the French side, the improved artillery did
distinguished service, where all the army did so
well, deciding, as many military men think —
largely contributing, as all acknowledge—to the
victory. Here is farther illustration of what I
was saying the other day—that superior civili
zation is the essence of conquering strength.—
Even in the brutal and seemingly material con
tests of the battle field, brains are more potent
than bodies. Nothing but their blind clinging
to old routine, their general behind-haudness,
their lower grade of civilization, in line, prevented
the Austrians from furnishing themselves with
these long range rifled cannon.
Prince Esterhazy was at the great ball, last
Wednesday, at Buckingham palace. Seeing Lord
Derby among the guests, he went up and turned
a pretty compliment by expressing regret that
he had not come to London a month sooner,
sitiee he should have had the pleasure of greet
ing his Lordship as Prime Minister. “ I deeply
regret it, too, Prince, renlied Lord Derby, but
you Austrians always arrive too late.”
The story is, doubtless, one of the kind too
good to be true ; “ but, like the best of larger
works of fiction, is founded on fact, and full of
truth. In this Solferino business they were too
late with tho old trick of retiring across the
Miucio, so as lo tempt the allies into a hurried,
careless advance —a sort of trap that might have
caught a hostile army, in tho last centnry but
did not for a moment tempt the “ man of his
epoch” to imprudence. Being fifty years too
late with that maneuver, they plan to com
mence the attack from their chosen and extremely
advautagoous positions at nine o’clock on Friday
morning, and are three hours too late, the French
commencing at six o’clock. One of the great
advantages “ enjoyed” (until the fighting began,)
by the Austrians, was that from the top of an old
Middle-age tower situated on the top of a very old
hill, they could look down on all the positions of
the allies. Napoleon sends up a staff officer
with the boldest of modern aeronauts, Mr. Go
dard, in one of the latest improved balloons, and
looks down on hill and tower.
Too late again, Austria is now proposing to
Prussia, as bases of negotiations for peace, such
large reforms in the Lombardy she has lost,
and in Venetia which she must lose, as, but par
tially conceded four months ago, would have pre
vented the war. To other provinces of tho Em
pire, now on the brink of open revolt, she is now
again promising concessions, which, had half of
them been yielded sooner, would have nipped
revolution in the bud. And still, she will be too
late. Tardiness in the fulfilment of promises
may be said to be her “specialty.” Any plan of
partial justice to her oppressed Jewish and Pro
testant subjects must go through the tortuous la
byrinth of ministerial bureaus, before getting oven
into paper shape. Meantime, Hungary is in
ever swelling ferment, and lieeds but the slight
est additional shock from without to burst her
bands again. The very Tyrolese are losing their
long-tried patience, and begin to clamor threaten
ingly against long-borne abuses.
But I leave you to gather from your European
files the numerous signs of the coming storm
that darken Austria’s political horizop, and re
turn to my report in the Italian war, which, as
the absorbing theme of French thought and con
versation, is a proper one fora Paris correspond
ence. Official ’reports of Solferino, as of the
preceding battles, in general and in detail, are
now at hand. Mine, which is made up from a
variety of sources, anecdotical, “off-hand, and
otherwise,” may give tho “local color”—mostly
blood red, and mourning black, yet not without
softer tints —and the spirit “of the time, his form
smd purpose," more fluthfUllv *♦« graver
'’.CouineniS, •
At the last battle, the allied armies were com
manded by Napoleon in person, who, not from
idle bravado, but in the performance of his prop
er duties as General-in-Chief, was in his saddle
all day, and exposed, for a part of the time, to
great personal danger. “Sire,” cried an officer,
throwing himself before the Emperor, who sat
his horse quietly in the midst of the bullets,
“they aim at you ! do not expose yourself to this
risk —they aim at you 1" “Eh bim ! Mes En
fants! silence them, then,” said Napoleon, smil
ing. “That made us drunk, sir,” writes a sol
dier who belonged to this officer's battalion; “it
gave us new strength, and I don’t know how it
was done, but we made a hundred yards at a
jump. Twenty minutes later, Cavriana was
ours.”
Piss! comes a bullet, and whips off ono of the
the Emperor's epaulettes. “Ah ! I have won
my rank as Major 1” said he, smiling, and still
chewing at the sprig of grape vine in his mouth)
You can readily imagine how coolness and gaiety
like this affect the soldiers, and are admired by
the people. The incident of the epaulette has
been made much of by a certain class of jour
nalists and officials, as a case of miraculous in
terposition in liis Majesty's favor. A private of
the 2nd Voltigeurs writes to his mother that his
right epaulette was carried away by a bullet.—
The letter has been printed, but no one,
except the poor mother, cries miracle. This
was only a woolen epaulette, on a private shoul
der. Journalists and officials evidently are per
suaded that Providence watches over cag)ps, not
sparrows. The same Voltigeur writes : “Since
I have been in the w ars, whether in the Crimea
or in Italy, I never did so much killing (je n ai \
jamais autant tue.) as on this 24tli June, 1859. j
Fifteen of us Voltigeurs cut down forty Austrian -
gunners, and took six cannon. Eight of us only,
were left on the guns.” •
A Chasseur writes to his God-father: “You j
fought the Austrians with LeCcmbe, we have j
smashed them with the nephew of the old one, ,
(le neven de Vancien is growing in the army to be
the significant spoliation of Napoleon III.) ■
That was hot work, God-father; it would have j
done you good to look on ; I say only look on, '
because of your wooden leg. I made them pay i
dear for it, as I wrote you 1 would, when you :
sent me the twentv francs. I spoiled some white
coats* for my part. The Major is wounded in
tho shoulder, my Captain is killed, and ray Ser- j
geant Major too. It was a rough business, I
tell you. * * * * You sent me twenty
francs God-father, after Magenta: you ought to !
send me forty after this fight If you do, 111
bring you a live Austrian to till your pipe.
A Colonel, who left his right arm in the i
Crimea, writes: “ A beautiful and grand victory! ;
The blood flowed in torrents St. John’s day—
it will be inscribed in letters of gold on the flag •
of the 72nd which put an end to the battle by 1
sublime efforts of bravery, vigor, and devotion, j
[Vote by your correspondent: This is the seventh ’
regiment, to say nothing of the artillery, that,
according to 1 respective ’ soldiers lettefs, has
the honor of having decided the v ictory. The
letter is published in the Bayonne Messager , and
the Colonel is perhaps a Gascon, but none the
less a brave man for that —I continue to quote
from him”]; “I had lost 25 officers and 622 men
in killed and wounded; my flag was riddled;
my noble horse was hit twice in the beginning
of tho charge, and presently was killed by a
Biscayen ; my poor cane, with which I command
ed, for my left hand is too weak to manage a
horse and hold a sabre at the same time, was
cut in two by a bullet.”
One Captain Carteaux of Dijon, who lost a
leg and won honors at the passage of the Min
cio, on the sth of Nieose, in the year IX —a nona
genarian now—has been keeping carefully for
the last half century that Austrian bullet which
cost him liis leg. He has now entrusted it to a
younger military man, who has gone to the wars
to return it to the Austrians, by the swiftest
means of conveyance.
If we turn from the battle field while the ac
tion is going on, to the same field and to the
hospitals, when the fight is over, we find the
horrible and saddening features of war re
lieved by gentler traits —and the Zouave, who
fought like a tiger yesterday, changed, accord
ing to circumstances, to a gentle nurse,'or an
epicurean or a stoic philosopher. He empties
his canteen indifferently into the parched
mouth of wounded comrade or wounded Croat;
gets up some sort of pretense of a dinner with
wonderfully small material, and enjoys it as
much as a “spread” at the Trots Freres or the
Maison Doree; holds out his own limbs for am
putation and cheerily compliments tho surgeon
for his dexterity, but pities the poor fellow lying
next him who has to undergo a similar operation.
An eye-witness at ono of the ambulances
writes: “ While I was conversing with one of
my wounded friends, a Corporal of the 45th was
brought in with his knee so shattered as to re
quire amputation. While the surgeon was
making his preparation, he calmly smoked his
pipe; during the operation the only words he
uttered were, “make haste." When it was over,
he resumed his pipe with great satisfaction.
He looked on then with much interest at like
preparations making for a liko operation on an
Austrian officer. “Fauvre didble !" he murmured
pityingly, when the “knife was ready.” I must
end with oxtracts here. Those already given,
chosen from hundreds, are perhaps sufficient
samples of the quality of the rest. Eminently
French, they are a sample of the favorite popu
lar reading of the day, and of the spirit of the
day, which they at once represent and form.
The war spirit is growing. The love of fighting
which seems common to all men, the love of
glory, which is specially developed in the French,
and the old chivalric quality—which is simply
the other two loves united to a dash of gener
osity—which remains more Complete in them than
in most other people—all these passions are
arousing into their old activity. Each new
battle brightens the souvenirs of the old Im
perial triumphs. Europe need look to it.
I cannot better close my Italian war report
than by mention of the kindness and sympathy
shown by the French to the Austrian prisoners
wherever they pass. You may be sure, that
save here and there, an entirely exceptional in
stance, that kindness and respectful sympathy
is everywhere manifested. I have not room to
present some of the more touching and thorough
ly French of these manifestations; for I must
say a word or two of Paris proper.
On Sunday, Te Deum was sung in the churches
throughout France. At Notre Dame, the cere
mony was performed with great pomp, the Em
press and the little Prince attending. On her
way thither from the Tuilleries, flowers were
thrown into her carriage, and on to the horses.
The crowd seemed to have a real feeling of re
spect and sympathy for their Imperial General's
wife. She looked beautifully, as ever, but some
thing pale and careworn. The regency is no
play with her; she really works at tills new busi
ness of ruling, they say ; certainly Franoe is
vory quiet and well behaved under this crinoline
government.
The U 8 F our th was feasted at the Hotel
du Louvre by a hundred or so hearty American
patriots. Minister Mason presided. The wines
were drinkable, the toasts orthodox, and the
whole affair a pleasant one—as how could it fail
to be with the pleasing novelty of ladies’ pres
ence ? It is hard to say where woman is out of
place ; but nowhere could she be in more fit
place than at a dinner table set in honor of the
Declaration of Independence. Your married
gentlemen readers, and your lady readers mar
ried, or to be married, will, I am sure, agree to
the soundness of that sentiment. I speak of the
dinner at the Louvre from hearsay, having a
triangle of guests and a small Fourth of July of
my own, at my own tables, where we drank Gar
ibaldi’s health, his birth-day and America’s being
the same. Nothing else remarkable took place
at my dinner, except a roar of laughter, which
broke out in this wise : Considering the day,
which was a hot one, and his merits, which are
great, I begged the concierge to drink a bottle of
wine on occasion of my country’s grand Fete Na
tionalle; to which the accepting Martin, holding
his bottle like a large admiration point in his left
hand, extended his dexter toward me with a sort
of interrogatory gesture, and pitching his voice
to the tone of a whisper, inquired, “if they had
proclaimed the Republic in America?” Hence,
the roar and the tears of laughter.
♦You know, but many of your readers may not. that a
white woolen coat is a part of the Austrian uniform.
I —i
At the Fourth of July celebration in Ironton,
Missouri, Capt. John Hall, one of Marion’s men,
was present. He is a native of North Carolina,
and will be 99 years of age in September noxt.
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
BETTIE BOWER’S REVERIE.
’Tis said that every woman has her mission.
f-I wonder what mine is; I have been trying to
find out ever since I left school, (and that was
not last year,) but all my attempts have proved
| fruitless, and I am sitting here alone this morn
! ing, wondering why I was put here, and what it
was intended for me to do. The fact is, I must
have something to do; yet what shall it be?
i Oh! how I wish I were a man; then, I could go
i bravely out, and fight the rede battle of life, win
! nine, perchance, for myself a name that would
live after me? But lam only a woman; yet,
i because I am such, must I sit tamely down in
the chimney corner, and stitch, stitch, stitch,
from morning till night? No; my very soul re-
I coils at the idea. I will not, I cannot You
! need not stop your sewing, Aunt Patience, and
look so amazed at me; I mean just what I say.
i You know well enough, I always hated the
I sight of a needle; I tell you now I will havebet
; ter sense than to spend my life at your stitching
| business, silently enduring the taunts of the
• “Lords of Creation," who are impudent enough
to insinuate to your very face tliat it is no work
iat all. Oh! I wish I had my way with them, I
1 would let them know whether it was work to
bend, toiling over a needle, from morning till
night; there would be no more fox-hunting—
: horse racing, or riding on railroad cars for plea
sure; there would be no more gentlemen of
leisure, with nothing to do but sport their gold
headed canes, and their black moustaches, (which
latter articles would not remain black long, for
they should not have time to cultivate, much
less dye them.) I would have every man at his
needle; and it would do my very heart good to
see them all stitching away, and tell them, when
they became so weary that they could hardly
take another stitch, that “sewing was no work
at all.” Oh! what a triumph that would be;
how I wish I could have my way—but there is
no use wishing, and I find the same question
staring me in the face: What shall Ido ? Shall
I spend my time visiting my friends, partaking
of their bounty, and dispelling the sadness from
their hysterical faces, by talking my foolish non
sense, and laughing accordingly? The way it
comes about is this : some friend will come to
me, and say, now, Bettie, dear, come go
home with me—we are all so lonely, and you
are so lively, we never have the blues when you
are with us. Igo with them, and the foolish
things I say and do, for the diversion of my
friends, make mo blush when I think of them
afterwards, and what do they deem, and how
appreciate me? Why, if some ingenious Yan
kee could get up a machine, which, when set in
motion, would utter just such frivolous nothings,
and make a noise resembling a laugh, it would be
equally as well regarded as myself, so I will
have no more of that kind of life; and here I
am again, asking what I shall do ? Fall in love,
and get married, replios a sentimental young lady.
Ah! I tried falling in love once, and it was with
as handsome a pair of black eyes, and as black a
moustache, as ever your fancy conjured up ; but
it “didn’t pay.” I tell you, I want no more fall
ing in love ; not I. Well, get married without
falling in love, suggests a less sentimental ad
viser. I must admit that advico to be in better
keeping with the times ; but I can’t stand the
idea of marrying—never could.* Humph! think
I see myself now, standing side by side with
ono of the genus homo, face averted, tremblingly
promising to love, honor, and obey. “Good gra
cious!” the very idea almost stifles me. I’ll
never promise to obey one of them. I would
rather—yes, I would heap rather live an old
maid all the days of my life, and, finally, turn to
a witch, similar to those who, after the “battle
was lost and won,” met Macbeth on the heath.
Now, if I were a genius, and could write like
Byron, or Shakspeare, why it would be worth
my while to live ; my name would be on every
tongue; in short, I would become famous —
would be flattered and feted at home and abroad—
and of such interest would be my movements to
the world, that I could not go even on a visit to
my great aunt, without having it heralded in
every newspaper that Miss Bettie Bowers, the
brilliant and gifted poetess, passed through such
a town, or city, at such a time, Ac., Ac. And
when I should die, why the world would mourn
my loss, and perhaps some great man would
write a history of my life. To think, too, of
people’s coming from distant countries to visit,
and maybe, to weep, over my grave ; why, the
very thought seems almost enough to reconcile
one to the “dreamless sleep.”
Oh ! what shall Ido ? I can’t remain long as
I am—“waiting for something to turn up.” I
must do something, and fear it will be something
desperate. Perhaps, after all, I may even mar
ry 1 That seems to be the fate of all of us wo
men ; willy, nilly—but I do declare I wish it
could be avoided. Ah ! a bright idea! I’ll tell
you what I’ll do in my next.
Very well; we shall be glad to hear—but
don’t change your mind, Miss Bettie, about mat
rimony 1 We are very certain that you wouldn’t
be happy, married ; and we have some doubts —
—very small ones—as to whether your husband
would be.
♦Ah ! How was it, Miss Bettie Bowers, in the days of
those “black eyes” and that “black moustache,” you were
speaking of, just now ?
— m wm
NEW BOOKS.
From the book-list of the N. Y. Saturday Press, for
the week ending July 23,1859:
Here and Beyond; or, The New Man,the True Man.
Bv the Rev. Huon Smith Carpenter. New York:
Mason Brothers.
The History of the Religious Movement of the Eigh
teenth Century, called Methodism, considered in its
Different Denominational Forms, and its Relations to
British and American Protestantism. By Abrl Ste
vkns, LL.D. Vol. 11. From the death of Whitfield
' w the death of Wesley. New York: Carlcton & Por
tcr.
Lectures on Catholicism and Protestantism. Lecture
Ist History of the Holy Catholic Church. By T. L.'
Nichols, M. D. New York; Dunigan & Brother.
Life of Peter the Great Compiled from Schlosson, Vil
lebois, Bruce, Segur, Voltaire, Staehiin, Pelz, Von 11a
lcm, Sevesque. etc. New York: Delisser & Procter.
Life of Louis Napoleon, and the Bonaparte Family.
Comprising the Career of Napoleon 1., the Restoration
, of the Bourbons, the Reign of Louis Phillippe, the Life
and Career of Louis Napoleon, and the Causes, Events,
and Consequences of the Crimean War. By Henry
W. Dr Pcy. New York: C. M, Saxton.
The Poet-Preacher—a brief Memorial of Chas. Wesley,
1 the eminent Preacher and Poet By Chas. Adams.
New York: Carleton <k Porter.
Hartley Norman. By Allan Hampden. New York:
, Rudd A Carleton.
p —-♦♦♦—<■»-
The Use of Coal on Locomotives.—Coal,
; says the Manchester American , has now been
t used for locomotives on the Boston and Provi
; dence railroad for three years, and there is shown
on the books an annual saving of 65 per cent.
I They estimate that 190 lbs. of coal are equal
, to two cords of wood. When on the tender,
ready for the fire, the wood is worth $6 per
cord, and tho coal $5 50 per ton. The coal
1 used is fine screenings and can bo used no
where but in furnaces of great draught. Coal
locomotives are much cleaner than wood burn
ers, and throw off no cinders and dust. The
cost of altering a “wooder” to a “coaler” is only
sl4, and SIOO per engine to the inventors for
the right to use.
FUN, FACT, AXE PHILOSOPHY.
When some one was lamenting Foote’s un
lueky fate in being kicked in Dublin, Johnson
said he was glad of it. “He is rising in the
world,”added he; “when he was in England,
no one thought it worth while to kick him.”
A gentleman who has a scolding wife, in
answer to an inquiry after her health, said she
was pretty well, only subject at times to a
“ breaking out in the mouth.”
“ There is no place like home ” —except the
home of the girl you are after.
The Constitution of South Carolina has
never been changed since her formation as a
State, and her present Senatorial representation
is so unequal that in some districts fifty votes
will elect a Senator, while in others twenty
times that number are required.
An old journal says the first wedding that
ever took place in the United States, was in
New England, and in May, 1651. The names
of the couple were, Edward Winslow and
Susannah White.
Never hold any one by the button or the
hand, in order to be heard out; for if people are
unwilling to hear you, you had better hold your
tongue than them. — Chesterfield.
The love of children appears to us like the
love of flowers—sweet and budding flowers—
holy and innocent; and the man who is fond of
them cannot be the possessor of a brutal or bad
heart.
A young lady was cured of palpitation of the
heart, the other evening, by a young man, in
the simplest and most natural manner imagin
able. He merely held one of her hands in his,
put his arm around her waist, and whispered
something in her ear.
Ministerial Wit. —A renowned gentleman,
not a thousand miles from Columbus, Wisconsin,
lately preached rather a long sermon from the
text: “ Thou art weighed and found wanting."
After the congregation had listened about an
hour, some began to get weary, and went out.
Others soon followed, greatly to the annoyance
of the minister. Another person started, where
upon the parson stopped in his sermon, and
said: “ That’s right, gentlemen, as fast as you
are weighed, pass out.”
“ I am going to write a book on popular ig
norance” said a conceited young man to Dr.
D . “ I know of no one,” said the Doctor,
“ more competent to prepare such a work.”
“ Sam, hab you got a sister ?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ Well, den, you must lub and cherish her.”
“Julius, hab you got a sister?”
“No, Sam, I liabn’t.”
“ Wei, den, all I got to say is, go and lub
somebody else’s sister.”
MORRELL & Randall, of Baltimore, have made
a large contract with the French Government,
for Cumberland coal, be shipped from Balti
more to the Mediterranean, and have chartered
several vessels for the service.
The New York Tribune estimates the num
ber of newspapers piinted in the United States,
at 4,000, and the aggregate circulation at upwards
of four hundred millions per annum.
“In ascending the hill of prosperity, may we
never meet a friend.”
There are some that live without any design
at all, and only pass in the world like straws on
a river; they do not go, but are carried.
If a man is happily married, his “rib” is worth
all the other bones in his body.
Men, like books, begin and end with blank
leaves—infancy and senility.
Bill came running into the house, the other
day, and asked eagerly, “Where does Charity
begin?” “At home,” I replied, in the words of
the proverb.” “Not by a good deal” rejoined
Bill; “it begins at sea (C).” — N. Y. Picayune.
Medical Advice.— -“ Doctor," said Frederick
Reynolds, the dramatist, to Dr. Bailie, the cele
brated physician, “don’t you think I write too
much for my nervous system ?”
, “No, I don't,” said Dr. Bailie, “but I think
you write too much for your reputation.”
Some one was telling an Irishman that some
body had eaten ten saucers of ice cream; where
upon Pat shook his head. “So you don’t believe
it?” With a shrewd nod, Pat answered: “I be
lieve in the crame, but not in the saucers 1”
Educational Statistics. —There are 4,000,000
scholars and 160,000 teachers in the public
schools of the United States. There is one
scholar for every five free persons. In Great
Britain, there is one scholar to every eight per
sons. In France, one to every ten.
; Sir Christopher Wren says: “A moderate
voice may be heard fifty feet before the preach
er, thirty feet on each side, and twenty behind,
. if the pronunciation be distinct and equal, with
out lowering tllQ vqioe at the last word of the
sentence”
Tilt: citizens of Tennessee have subscribed
r three hundred thousand dollars towards the pro
-1 posed new University of the South.
If any one speaks evil of you, let your life be
so virtuous that none will believe him.
The grand essentials to happiness in this life,
are something to do, and sometliing to love.
It is impossible to love whore we cannot es
teem ; and no woman can be esteemed by a man
1 who has sense, if she makes herself cheap in the
1 eye of a fool— Vanburgh.
Rousseau read to Voltaire his Ode to Poster
ity. “Ifear,” rejoined Voltaire, “it will never
i reach its address.”
A tooth, weighing nearly four and a half
pounds, and measuring nine inches in length, by
seven and one-half in breadth, was dug up* ia
Dalton, Ga., recently.
! University of toe South.—The citizens of
, Tennesse have subscribed three hundred thou
sand dollars towards the proposed new Uni
versity of the South.
NaHant was purchased 250 years ago by a
■ Lynn farmer, for a suit of clothes, and instead
of being a fashionable watering place, it abound
ed in wolves and deer. Now, the w ives there
appear in sheep’s clothing and the doer in crino
i line and costly silks.
A Mammoth Paper.—We have received a
1 copy of the pictorial Constellation, published by
George Roberts, New York. The sheet is five
l feet ten inches one way, and eight feet four in
ches the other. It contains about thirty-seven
' pictorial illustrations, and a large amount of
reading matter. As a specimen of American
’ typography, it is a great curiosity, and those who
‘ wish to see it, can do so, by sending fifty cents
to the publisher.— Constitutionalist.
■ Politics is the art of being wise for others—
• policy the art of being wise for one’s self.
When you speak to a person, look in his face.