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Southern Field and Fireside.
VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
AILSIE GAT.
My darling Ailsie Gay
Somewhere hath fled away.
Yon still, cold form of clay—
Oh, that» not Ailsie Gay!
Ah me!
Drearily!
When she walked in the night.
Stars wooed her with their light;
The winds paused in their flight
To kiss her cheek, so bright.
Ah me!
Lovingly.
Have winds wiled her away ?
Have stars lured her to stay
With them, out of the day?
Oh! where is Ailsie Gay !
Ah me!
Mourning!)-!
The flow'rs that saw her pass
Flung odors to the lass,
And envied then the grass
Her light foot pressed Alas!
Ah me!
Dear Ailsie!
They’ll put her in the ground
Birds, twittering around,
Will chirp their saddest sound
Perching upon her mound.
Ah me!
So sadly!
The flow’rs that ahe loved so.
Above her grave will grow
Sweetly—me thinks they’ll know
Who lies so white below.
Ah me!
And coldly!
The winds will fondly sigh
For her, as they flit by,
And the stars in the sky
Will seek her wondrous eye,
Ah me!
How vainly!
Savannah, Aug. 15th, ISSB. Indamird,
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
Entered according to the Act of Congre «*, Ac., Ac.
Vy the Author.
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN;
08,
A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS,
WHO WAS RUINED BY BAD LtTCK.
BY THH AUTHOR OF THE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Chase. —Captain Thompson had ample
cooling time before he reached his sister’s resi
dence, for it was full two hundred yards from
Mr. West’s store; “but contrary to the law in
such case made and .provided,” instead of
cooling , he got hotter and hotter with every step
of the way. Business at "home demanded his
attention just at this time—the weather was
still cold, and might in a day or two turn much
colder. When and where he should overtake
Tom, and how he should dispose of him and his
load when overtaken, were perplexing consider
ations. Then his sister’s unconquerable indul
gence of her son, with its probable consequences,
coming upon the raw places of his mind which
it had already produced, was quite irritating.—
Nor was he entirely forgetful of the fun of the
village already enjoyed at his expense, and likely
to be renewed on his return. All these things
pressing upon a mind naturally excitable, were
not calculated to lull it into repose. The reader
therefore will not be surprised to learn that they
so completely absorbed the Captain’s attention,
that he became wholly forgetful of the claimk of
dignity, and “the poetry of motion,” and that he
reached his sister’s steps in a palpable trot.
As soon as his sister saw him she showed
signs of great alarm, for she observed that he
was in a state of very unusual excitement. Her
alarms had a good effect upon the Captain; they
reduced his feelings instantly to a little above
temperate.
“What,” said he, “was in those boxes you
sent off by Tom, this morning ?”
“One contained some clotliing for William,
and ”
“More finery, I suppose!’’
“No, not a stitch of finery.”
“What then ?”
“Two suits of coarse negro cloth, (I may call
it,) some cotton homespun shirts, and a few
home-knit stockings.”
This was refreshing to the Captain. “Well, I
rejoice,” continued he, “ that your love for your
boy is beginning to show itself in the right way’
at last And what was in the other box ?”
“Some refreshments ”
“More cakes, raisins, almonds, sugar-plums,
Ac., Ac., of course?”
“No, not a single one of either.”
‘mat then?”
She named the contents of the box.
“Well, if he must be crammed, bettor this
than the first lot. Now I’ve got to pack off
I JAMES GARDNER, 1
I Proprietor. (
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1859.
after that fool negro, pressed as I am with busi
ness, just at this time; for he’ll never find the
way to Waddel’s while the world stands ”
“Brother, lam sure you need not take upon
yourself that trouble. Tom is a very intelligent
negro—”
“Humph I”
•“ And I have no doubt but that he will
go straight to Mr. Wad del's without a blunder.
I gave him such particular directions that he
cant miss the way ”
“ You gave him directions! Why there never
was a woman—a town woman—on the face of
the earth, who could find the way to a house
fifteen miles from her own, after going to it
twenty times; and there never was one who
could direct Solomon to a place ten miles off, so
that he could find it; and here you’ve sent off a
stupid jackass of a negro to go sixty miles under
your directions, and to a place that you’ve never
been to yourself!”
“Well, if he doesn’t find the way, it will be
all your fault ”
“How the devil will it be my fault?”
“I got the directions from you, and I gave them
to Tom just precisely as I received them from you,
and sister Mary will prove it.”
“I didn’t pretend to go into the details, for I
did not know what you and Mary were fishing
for ; and if I had given them, there is not a Tom
in the world that could have followed them.”
“I think, brother, you underrate the negro
character, as you are too apt to do with all char
acter, except that of the “lords of creation.”—
I must think that there is a little sense in the
world that does not belong to them. Perhaps,
however, I am mistaken.”
“Well, what directions did you give Tom ?”
She repeated them.
“And you think Tom can’t miss the way un
der these directions ?’’
“I am sure not. for I have proved him
to be uncommonly shrewd at finding roads.”
“Well, he did not get ten miles from town be
fore he got lost—took the Augusta road, and
told Joshua Houghton that he was going to Mr.
Wodden’s, who kept school at Mr. Williston’s,
in Carolina!”
“Oh ! Mr. Houghton must have misunderstood
him. He could’nt have miscalled Mr. Waddel’s
name, for it has been repeated in his hearing
over and over, and over again. Isn’t Burke’s
Meeting-house on the Washington road?”
“Near it”
* “And isn’t it more than ten miles off?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he knows the way to Burke’s Meeting
house, for he has taken me there repeatedly.”
“Yes, and if you had told him to go by Burke’s
Meeting-house, he would have gone that far
straight, at least.”
“I couldn’t have told him that, for I didn’t
know that the Burke’s Meeting-house road and
the Washington road were the same, myself”
“I suppose not. But it is not worth while to
stand talking about it I know that he will not
find the way to Waddel’sin a week, if ever, and
I must go after him. Was old Ball shod or Dare
foot when he set out ?”
“Newly shod.”
“Did you give him any money to bear his ex
penses?”
“I gave Tom money.”
“Did you understand me to ask whether you
gave old Ball money to bear his expenses ?”
The Captain, without waiting for an answer to
his last question, went home with his 'foot down,"
and of course his wife was all meekness and ob
sequiousness. He did not speak to her at all, but
called out in her presence to Dick, “to have his
horse ready at the peep of day, for him to pack
off after Anna’s Tom.”
“Master, is Tom runaway?”
“Ask your mistress there —she can tell you.”
“Miss’ess is Tom ’’
“Go about your business, you black rascal,”
said Mrs. Thompson, in an undertone.
“Kigli!” whispered Dick, “some ’en wrong
here I”
The Captain fell to writing letters furiously—
jumped up, and ordered Dick to grease the chaise
—resumed his pen, and jumped up again and
felt in his breeches' pockets—wrote sometime,
and jumped up again and jerked open a drawer,
looked in and shut it up again—folded up a letter
and commenced another—jumped up and ordered
Dclpliy to get him some warm water to shave —
wrote again—stopped, punched the fire, and
told Suckey to tell Dick to bring m some wood,
“plenty of it, for I don’t know that I shall
go to bed to night.” Wrote again—rose, went
out and stayed a little while, and came in again.
Folded another lotter or note, and went to writ
ing again. Finished another note, and called for
the water to shavo. Just here, Mrs. Thompson,
in a very subdued tone, informed him that sup
per was ready. It consisted of tea, biscuit,
butter, cheese, sliced ham, cold tongue, and a
few cold sausages. The Captain took his seat,
and looked at them as if they were all laughing
at him, and then fell to work upon them, as if he
were fighting them for their rudeness.
“What clothes shall I put up for you, husband ?”
said Mrs. Thompson, tenderly.
“I reckon you’d best put up all I’ve got, for I
expect to wear them all out before I find Tom,
and get him safely home again. It will be, at the
very least, four days befbre this can be accom
plished.'’ Upon this hint tliegooil lady stocked
him for .a week. -
After supper the Captain shaved, went to the
stable to see that old Roan was in traveling
order, returned, handed the letters to his -wife,
and went to bed. The letters were all left open,
from which the wife understood, perfectly, that
her duty concerning them was to be learned from
their contents.
And now having put the Captain quietly to
bed, we beg leave to indulge in a few reflections
upon his conduct towards his sister and wife.
We can find it in our heart to palliate, if not
wholly excuse his gusts of temper before his
lovely sister. The heat of his mind would not
cool, even in cooling tiine. But how can we jus
tify him, in a direct issue between them upon
the capacity of the negro race generally, and of
Tom, in particular, for ascribing his blunder
wholly to stupidity, when he knew and must
have remembered, that negro stupidity had
nothing to do with itl It was the result as the
reader has seen, of a symbolical delusion (if we
may lie allowed the expression) and not of men
tal imbecility. It was not in keeping with. the
Captai.n’s usual candor to suppress this import
ant fact.
Nor can we find a single apology for the
Captain's long protracted crustiness to his wife.
He had relieved himself at ltis sister’s of his re
dundant steam, there was nothing to raise it
again on his way home, her playftil “fishing”
frolic was certainly n© offence, and her meek
ness in his presence sbdtdd have reduced ltnn
instantly to tenderness and kindness. But so it
is with these “lords of creation;” they must not
only be allowed to become furious, but they
must be allowed to spend their wrath upon the
dearest object they have on earth. Is it likely
that women will continue to marry if such con
duct be persisted, in ? And what is to become
of the world when they cease to marry ?
Having made no allowance for the six or eight
miles that he had lost on the Augusta road, Tom
concluded at the end of seventeen miles from
home that he must be not far distant from John
Smith’s; and that he might not pass his stopping
place from ignorance of its location, he deter
mined to keep himself well advised of his ap
proaches to it, from such travellers as he might
meet. His mind was no sooner made up to seek
light, than an opportunity was afforded him in
the person of one who entered his road but a
few yards ahead of him.
“Master,” said he to the stranger, “how far is
it to Mr. Smith’s?”
“Which Smith?”
“John Smith.”
‘•Parson John Smith ?”
“Well, I reckon lie’s a Parson, for Mis'ess is a
mighty good Christian, and she told me I must
be sure to stay at his house to-night, any how,
day or night.”
“That’s the road to Parson Smith’s,” said the
traveller, pointing to the road he had just left.
“It’s just three miles to his house.”
Tom took the road and went on his way re
joicing. He soon reached the Parson’s, and
without introduction or question to the good
man, he commenced ungearing. Mr. Smith, no
ticing him from his window, walked out and
asked him what he was doing.
“Ain’t this Parson Smith’s?” enquired Tom..
“Yes.”
“Mis’ess told me I must stay here any how,
no matter w T hat time I got here.”
“Who is your Mistress, my boy?”
“Mrs. Mitten—mighty good woman.”
“I don't know her—l reckon there’s some
mistake—Have you any paper?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom, handing his pass.
The Parson read it, and said, “Tommy, my boy,
you've come out of your way. I’m not the
John Smith you arc seeking. He lives right on
the road you left, just this side of Washington.”
- “Emp-e-e-e-eli 1 How far is it, Master ?”
. “Why, if you go back to the Washington road
it is about fourteen miles, but if you’ll take that
road that turns round the horse-lot, you will save
near two miles.” Tom took it, fell again into
the Washington, and reached Smith’s an hour
or two in the night.
The next morning the Captain and Tom had
an even start; they both left their respective
stations as soon as they could see to drive. As
it was next to impossible for Tom to miss his
way after being set right by Haughton, until he
passed little River, the Captain made no inqui
ries for him up to this point, but employed him
self in a close look-out for the tracks of the
cart-wheels, and of old Ball. Every now and
then he would espy traces of a two-wheeled
vehicle, drawn by a new-shod horse, which, he
felt pretty sure was the equipage he was in pur
suit of; but still ho was far from certainty upon
this head. He stopped at the first house he came
to after he passed the river, and enquired
whether a negro, driving a large bald-faced sorrel
in a blue cart with two boxes in it, had passed
that way. “Yes,” said the man whom he ac
costed, “I met him yesterday at the forks of
the road up here, axing for Parson Smith's, and
I put him in the road to the Parson s."
“Parson Smith! who the devil made him a
parson ? A month or tw© ago, he was one of
the profanest men I ever saw?’
“You don’t know the man, sir. Brother Smith
is one of the most religiousist men in all this
country.”
“What! John Smith, just this side of Wash
ington!”
“Oh no, not him! Parson Smith, who lives
over hero by Betliesda Meeting House.”
Here the Captain, contrary to his habit, let
fall a very bad word against Tom, and pro
ceeded:
“What could have put it into the head of that
addled-brained goose to quit the plain beaten
road and run off into by-ways to hunt up Par
sons and Meeting-houses!”
“Stranger, I don't know but that I am to
blame for that. He axed for John Smith; I
axed him if hs meant Parson John Smith; and
he said he reckoned he was Parson, for his Mis
tress was a mighty good woman, and told him
he must stay all night ”
“Well, please direct me the way to Parson
Smith’s.”
“Stranger, I hope you won't think hard of
me ”
.“Oh, no sir, no! I don’t blame you tho least in
the world. Direct me the way to Parson
Smith’s if you please, for I am in a great hurry.”
“Pm mighty sorry if I turned him out of the
way; but he axed me ’’
“I give you my word and honor I don't blame
you at all—but I shall blame you if you don’t
tell me the way to Smith’s as you did the negro.”
“Oh, yes, well I will with a great deal of plea
sure. Go on till you pass a little old field to
your left, and you’ll come to a road winding
round the fur edge of it; take that, and it will
lead you straight to Parson Smith’s."
As the Captain turned off, the other con
tinued :
“Stop one minute, stranger 1”
The Captain stopped.
“Have you ever thought, stranger, of the sin
of profane swearing?”
“Yes,” said the Captain, cutting up old Roan.
“I never do it unless I’m very angry.”
[to be continuer]
i • i
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
SCENERY OF GEORGIA.
Perhaps in no portion of our wide spreading
Republic can be found scenery more picturesque
and beautiful, than in our own Georgia.
Towards the South level and sunny plains
are revealed, studded with cultivated fields, rich
with exuberant production; while North
and east the admiring eye is arrested by majes
tic mountains encircling emerald vales, by pur
ple and shadowy hills that descend abruptly,
or slope gradually into verdant meadows, laved
by crystal streams. Fragrant flowers, of every
hue, bloom in gay profusion; and lucious fruits
ripen beneath our Southern sun. We have
free, bright gushing streams, cold water-falls
and silver cascades, which, though wanting the
awful magnificence of Niagara, are neverthe
less strikingly beautiful and grand.
But come with me, gentle reader, into the
North-eastern portion of our beloved State, and
linger with me for a moment ’mid the enchant
ing scenery that surrounds the falls of Tallulah.
'Tis evening. The sun is sinking towards the
West, and his softened beams light up, with
mellow radiance, the fleecy clouds that float,
with billowy grace, athwart the broad blue hea
vens.
A shower has but lately fallen, and the foliage
of the trees droops low with their burden of
pearly rain-drops; while the balmy air, bright
with the golden sunbeams, sighs so softly and
gently over the fragrant earth, that scarce a
drop of the refreshing element, pendant in shin
ing particles from the innumerable twigs of
the forest trees, is shaken from its hold. The
tiny globules, trembling in the breeze, sparkle
like gems in the evening sunlight. ,
But the roar of the waters of Tallulah , as they
rush over a succession of precipice—is fast
drowning these “zephyr breathings,” that float
plaintively up from the bosom of the valley—
and now as you approach the falls, and this wild
and magnificent scenery breaks suddenly upon
you—are you not almost bewilbered? See—
we are walking over a carpet of moss, and there,
to your left, how beautiful those golden honey
suckles! But look—we are setting our feet
upon exquisite clusters of purple bells, and deli
cate young violets. What sweet perfume their
crushed petals send forth!
Now tell me, if your highest conceptions of
the sublime and beautiful are not realized? Do
not all the descriptions you have read of Italia’s
blue skies and the recollection of some far-famed
scenery, ’mid which you may have waudered,
vanish from memory, giving place to feelings of
awe and admiration, as you gaze upon this won
derful work of the Great Eternal ? Do not these
jagged precipices, gigantic rocks, dark chasms,
and tho ever-restless boiling waters compose a
picture terribly sublime? ’Twould be almost
over-whelming, were it not softened and re
relieved by the cloud-like spray that floats up
ward in mysterious evolutions,, until caught by
the golden sunlight, wheu it is changed into
rain-bow hues, of delicate crimson, azure and
purple, or dispersed by each passing breeze.
Ah! your heart rushes lieaven-ward, now: and
J Two Dollars Per Annum, (
} Always In Advance. f
your thoughts turn to the Creator of all this
loveliness upon which your gaze rests. I see it
in the kindling expression of your countenance,
I road it in your voice that trembles with strong
emotion.
This is Tallulah, “the terrible”—grander
and more sublime than her sister, the gently
flowing Toccoa—Tocooa “ the beauttful,” upon
whose banks it is pleasant to stand, listening to
the dreamy murmur of the falling spray. Not
far hence, that beautiful water-fall is sparkling
in the sun, sighing—sighing forever! How
unlike is the voice of Tuccoa, to the wild roar
of the impetuous Tallulah 1 Its mournful mur
muring appeals tenderly to the heart; one might
fancy it the plaintive wail of some Naiad of the
stream, chanting a soft low requiem over the
olden time, or grieving for the departed spirits
of the brave Indian chiefs, and dusky maidens,
who once frequented these shaded dells, or
skimmed its waters in their birchen canoes.—
Many romantic incidents and legends of thril
ing interest are connected with these picturesque
portions of Georgia—thus rendering them pe
culiarly attractive, aside from the manifold
charms lavished upon them by the hand of Na
ture.
But see, the sun is setting; and the ever
renewing, ever-changing splendors that accom
pany his decline, have curtained with purple and
golden magnificence the western horizon. So
we will turn from this sylvan retreat, and with
the sighing of the waters growing fainter and
fainter, look back for a moment into the shadowy
past.
Two centuries ago; and how changed the
scene 1 No trace of cultivation is visible, and
forests deep and dark stretch far and wide.—
Rivers flow musically on through flowery vales
—the grey squirrel leaps from limb to limb, amj
the merry birds chatter Mid sing as they dart
through the rustling foilage.
Do you soe the smoke from that Indian wig
wam, how gracefully it rises above the vivid
green of the forest boughs ? ’Tia the home of
peace! The happy squaws are gathering
berries—the brave warriors'are for away chas
ing the deer, or assembled in grave dignity
around the council fire, while their dark-browed
children dance upon the smooth green turf.—
No pale-faces have yet invaded their borders;
and, unmolested, they scale the mountain heights
or rest in the shaded valleys. Can it be that
we stand upon the soil of Georgia? We can
scarcely realize it!
But the scene rapidly changes; and Time,
moving irrestibly onward, has borne far from us
the startling “war-whoop,” and discontented
wail of the unhappy savage. In western wilds,
the last of their race are roaming sadly; yet we
trust the “ Great Spirit” has prepared for them
fair “hunting-grounds” above, where their
weary wanderings will, at last, cease. Are you
tired of this retrospective view ?—then we will
turn from this sad picture of the ill-fated abori
gines, and gaze once more upon our own
beautiful land.
Broad sunny plains, adorned with neat cot
tages, graceful villas, stately colleges, flowers,
vines and sheltering trees are now seen where
erst were gloomy forests. Eivers flow onward
but through fields yielding rich harvests to
civilized cultivation; while the intelligent cul
tivator and proprietor of another and superior
race to that which has passed away, with the
smile ot contentment illuming his manly sun
burnt face, returns to his tasteful home at the
quiet evening hour. Elegant churches pierce
the skies with their tall spires, while villages
and cities, connected by rail-roads, steam-boats,
and telegraphs—filled with wealth and intelli
gence, and the fine-arts —have sprung up in
places where onco stood the huts of the red
man.
"sis pleasant thus to muse, and contrast the
visions of the olden time, conjured up by the
imagination, with the fair scenes that smile
around us now. The hum of bees, the song of
birds—the scent of flowers, in the summer sun
shine—the purple hills in the shadowy distance
attune the soul to harmony—and the sight of
our homes, smiling amid their murmuring trees-,
should give us feelings truly devotional, and
lift our hearts in holy reverence to the bene
ficient Being who has cast our destinies in this
enlightened and happy land. Others may
boast of fairer prospects or gayer scenes—our
scope of observation is limited and we are con
tent to remain in this bright, picturesque Geor
gia. Gulnare.
Valley Farm, July.
Honeymoon. —The word Honeymoon is trace
able to a Teutonic origin. Among the Teu
tons was a favorite drink called metheglin. It
was made of mead honey, and was much like
the mead of European- countries. These
honeyed drinks were used more especially at
marriage festivals, and which were kept up
among theynobility one lunar month; the festive
board being well supplied with metheglin.
“Honey Moon” signified the moon or month
of the marriage festival
.Marie, the Goth, celebrated by Southey's
poem, died on his wedding night, from a too
free indulgence in the honey drink.
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