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76 LITERARY^ WILLIA!H W. MANN, Editor. The Soutliern Field and Fireside IS PI7RLIBIIKD KVF.RT SATURDAY. TERMS—S2.OO a year, invariably In advance. All Postmasters are authorized agents. SATURDAY JULY 80,1559. I BACK NUMBERS. Persons subscribing to the Field and Fireside can be supplied with all the back numbers. — — TERMS TO NEWS-DEALERS. This paper is mailed to news-dealers at the rate of two dollars and fifty cents per one hundred copies. — TERMS OF ADVERTISING. For each insertion of ten lines or less, one dollar; and for over ten lines, at the rate of ten cents per line. TRAVELLING AGENTS. In reply to numerous applications on the subject, the Proprietor of the Southern Field and Fireside takes this method of announcing that he does not desire to make any more engagements *f that kind NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS. It will be impossible to send receipts, in future, to each subscriber, ow ing to the large number of subscriptions coming in daily. The receipt of The Southern Field and Fireside, after the money is remitted, will be evi dence to each subscriber that his money has been re ceived and his name duly entered on the mail book. hi PREMIUMS TO POSTMASTERS —FIVE HUN DRED DOLLARS IN PREMIUMS. We invite attention to the premiums offered to the Postmasters of Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Mis sissippi and Tennessee, for the largest lists of subscribers to The Southern Field and Fireside. See Prospectus — 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 two notes we have received from her, that Virginia's communication would have adorned our columns.” “ A young man of energy and perseverance,” who is “going to Brazil," wishes from us particular informa 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 not get it, without more trouble than be would be will 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 so indiscreet as to incur another reprimand, let 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.