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Southern Field and Fireside.
VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
4 « . MOTHER.
9 BY TliE SOX.
/ I had once a blessed Mother,
A And I loved her—Oh! my love *
y I could liken to no other
vj Than my love to God above:
She my roving footsteps guided
4 In the paths of Truth and Lovo; ■
3 She my wayward spirit pointed
J To the bright, bright world Above,
y Where the holy angels move.
{ “•
& When my childish heart was swelling
r With the full Joy of a child,
With the pleasures that were welling
J ' From a heart so young and wild,
is I would rush to her; and, telling
a Os this pleasure and this Joy,
/ Iler soft eyes with tears were swelling,
F As she prayed, “ God bless mv boy!
) Bless and save my darling boy J”
' When my manhoodjust had budded,
Y And life's roses ’gan to oj>e,
L When the Future bright was studded
With the jewels on my hope,
? She would watch tho filmy brilliance
n the bubbles of my cup,
y And a holy awe stole o'er me,
>. As her hands she lifted up—
m With a jraver she'd lift them up.—
J
Y Lift her hands in supplication
4 To the Holy Father's throne.
x In rapt communication
? With the Spirit and the Son:
Y God of Mercy 1" said she, " guide him ;
J Purify him, Spotless One 1”
Thus she wrestled in her spirit.
X For the spirit of her son—
' The salvation of her son.
v.
Oh 1 a blessing was that Mother
Such as none but God can give!
More than father, sister, brother,
More than aught I could receive!
, But one night, a little Cherub,
"A Which in years gone she did give
y Back unto the arms of Jesus,
Kin His bosom there to live—
’Mongst the little lambs to live—
Vi.
a One sad night this little Cherub
<. Came and whispered in her ear,
Jr “ The good Shepherd wants thee, Mother!
' “Be,” he bade her, “of good cheer.”
A And my mother heard the summons,
Y And, expelling every fear,
KWith her spirit-baby floated
Thro' the heavenly fields of air,
Thro’ the fields of balmy air.
J • VII.
She is gone —but not forever;
T For, when my work here Is done,
> Her bright angel hands shall guide mo
di This the recompense she’s won—
r To the feet of Jesus guide me,
IK To the White Eternal Throne:
In the shining ranks shall place me,
Place her boy, her ransomed son,
9 Place her loved, her loving son.
4 viii.
/ I’ve a mother now In heaven,
A And I love her—Oh! my love
Y I can liken to no other
' Than my love to God above.
Y A sweet incense rises upward
4 Os the good deeds she has done,
I * And they waft a holy savor
| ? To the great All-Father's Throne,
1/ in
\ [For the Sohthem Field and Fireside.]
|Y Entered according to the Act of Congress, Ac., Ac.
4 ly the Author.
I MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN;
/ OR,
\ A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT *TALENTS,
V WHO WAS RUINED BY BAD LUCK.
Y
4 BY THE AUTHOR OF TILE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC
1 Now if the reader can extract from this long
V harangue, what were the Captain’s views of the
) case oi Mitten vs. Black, upon Christian princi
'N pies, he is certainly much wiser than the writer,
w "Whether it was becoming in him to discuss the
. case so generally upon “worldly principles, ”
Y without drawing a line of distinction between
4 them and Christian principles —whether it was
jx right in him to say what he would have advised
J four or five months ago, that he wonld not now
liy without any specifications, that might enlighten
I T his nephew, as to whether he meant to take
IS back any of his counsels upon universal exoel
-1 * lence; are questions which we will not under
I JAMES GARDNER, I
1 Proprietor. (
AUGUSTA, GA„ SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1859.
take to settle.. But we will venture to say, that
Master Mitten inferred from it, that the Captain
was highly delighted, {but of course only on world
ly principles) witli his achievements, and that
he need never fear the Captain’s wrath for fight
ing. provided he would always tight at the right
time, in the right place, and for good reasons in
Mr. Moore's judgment.
In the course of his observations, Master Mit
ten discovered two other things through the aid
of Snap-dragon, which we must not omit to
mention; the one was, that six or seven months’
abstinence from strong drink, had not entirely
abated his relish for it; and the other was, that
the squatter sovereigns committed many errors
in their games that he could have rectified with
success. It was tho custom of not a few heads
of families at this time, to make up a mint-julep
of peach or apple brandy every morning, and to
give a little to every member of the family, old
and young, blacks excepted. It was a much
more invariable custom to make a large bowl of
egg-nog every Christmas, of which the whole
family were expected to take a little more freely,
and it was considered rather a laughing than a
serious matter if some of the children got intox
icated. No one ever entered a house to tarry
for a lialf hour, without being asked “to take
something to drink,” and with the plainer people
of the country, this invitation was extended
to boys hardly in their teens, and was ac
cepted without exciting any surprise. Not
many years before the times of which we are
speaking, probably down to the very times, a
still more remarkable custom prevailed among
some, if not all Methodist Preachers; —which
was to ask a blessing upon every glass of toddy
they took. Should this statement be questioned,
we have authority for it, at hand, which no man
in Georgia will question. How this custom orig
inated it is to easy divine; the discipline of the
Methodist Church enjoined upon its members to
do nothing upon which they could not invoke
God’s blessing, and as they never dreamed that
there was anything sinful in taking a glass of
toddy, or as it was more commonly called a
little sweetened dram, they “said grace over
it”
While such customs were rife in the country,
it is not to be wondered at that Master Mitten
had frequent opportunities of indulging his early
formed relish for ardent spirits, even without
the help of Snap-dragon—with his help they
were quintupled. He however took care never
to appear at home, or in the presence of his Un
cle, ‘ disguised with liquor." But as the Captain
saw that he was doing no good, he feared that
he was doing much harm, and he rejoiced great
ly when the time arrived for his return to school.
A little before this time, the Captain informed
William overnight that he wished to borrow
Snap-dragon for a short ride the next morning,
as all his own horses wero in use. William
gave a cordial assent, of course. “Send Tom
over with him directly after breakfast, Pm only
going to Doctor Wingfield’,s” said the Captain.
The Captain lived on the street that led di
rectly to Doctor Wingfield’s, and near the edge
of the town. As William had never seen his
uncle on Snap-dragon, and felt a deep interest
in his performance under the saddlo of his kind
benefactor, he took his position in the inner
lock of a fence on the street, under cover of
some high weeds, whence, with a little change of
position, he could have a full view of the Cap
tain’s house, and two or three hundred yards of
the street and road leading from it. Tom got
to the house with Snap-dragon, about the time
that William got comfortably seated. Snap was
soon saddled, and the Captain was nearly as soon
by his side, ready to mount him. Snap showing
signs of impatience to get off.’ “What makes
that horse do so, Tom ?” asked the Captain. “ I
don’t like his motions.’’
“ He's geutfe, Mas’ David,” said Tom. “He
only do so till you start him.”
The Captain placed one hand on Snap’s neck
and the other on the back of the saddle to
mount; this hand happened to slip and fall a lit
tle rudely on Snap's back. Snap, noting doubt
ing that this was the beginning of the “grabble
tickle," commenced with the preliminaries of the
polka.
“ Why, that horse is ruined,’’ said the Captain.
“ I wonder he hasn’t knocked William's brains
out long ago."
“ Mas’ David I tell you tho’ an’t nothin’ the
matter with him. This is nothin' but some little
foolnisli Mas William lam him. He's gentle.”
In the mean time Bill was rolling m the weeds,
“ enthused"* with delight.
The Captain made a second attempt, and
mounted.
“ Tom, tell your Mistress —“ Wo!” said he to
fidgeting Snap, and away weDt Snap “ to the tune
of eight miles an hour!” “ WoP' repeated the
Captain, more emphatically, and Snap put off at
half speed, at which gait he passed Bill, in an
agony of laughter. The Captain immediately
conjectured that Bill had been running Snap, and
that the horse took “wo ” fbr “go /” and he did
not repeat the word again. Snap soon became
pacified, and the Captain brought him to a halt.
He studied awhile whether it would be best for
•This word, of very modern coinage, is now gettingiuto
pretty general use, in some parts of the country.
him {jo on or return. He fconcluded he would
try Snap a little farther ani" how; so he clucked
to him to proceed ; but sol far from proceeding.
Snap settled himself in m|>re dignified compo
sure than he had exhibitcfa during the whole
morning. He clucked again, with no better
success. He chirped, butjtliese changes of note
operated up Snap like a sdenude.
“ Why, did ever any btdy see such a fool
horse since the world wife made!” mused the
Captain. “What's a bod^to do with him?—
How is he to be made to gt on, or stop ? If I
ever give another chap? a fihe horse, he may give
me a thousand lashes, and I’ll thank him for it.
It certainly was the unlwfciesl act of my life to
give Bill this horse 1”
Upon the whole, the Captain concluded it
would be best for him to get out of temptations
as quick as possible, by returning home. Just
as he made up his mind te this course, Mr. Fos
ter met him:
“Good morning, hrotier Thompson!” said
Foster.
“ Good morning, brother Foster,” said Mr.
Thompson.
“ Which way are you going ?”
** I was going to Doctor Wingfield’s, but I’ve
got on my nephew’s liorsp, which the boy has
so completely spoiled, that there is no doing any
thing with him, so I’ll g* back with you.”
All of the proceedings up to this moment
convinced Snap-dragon that he had been brought
out that morning for no other purpose in the
world, than to beat Mr. Foster's horse in a
quarter race. His conjectures were fully con
firmed, when in answer to Mr. Foster’s question
“don’t you own him?” the Captain, as he paced
about, answered emphatically “No l"
At the word, Snap dashed. The Captain soon
took him up, and waited till brother Foster
came up. As he approached, the Captain cluck
ed to Snap, and he stopped crustily.
“ Bless your soul, honey,’’ said brother Foster,
“ that’s a mighty good looking horse, but he's
a mighty foolish one.”
“He was one of the finest horses in the
land “ Wo !" cried the Captain, (forgetting
himself,) to Snap, in rage to beat Foster’s horse,
and away he dashed again. He was stopped as
before. •
“ Why, brother Thompson, that horse seems
to go when he ought to stop, and stop when he
ought to go.,’ •
“ Exactly so,” said the Captain ; and Snap
bristled considerably at the last word, but was
chirped to a halt instantly.
“ Why bless your eonl, honey, I never did see
a horse take on after that sort in all my life. I
wouldn’t give this pipe for him. if I had to ride
him.”
“ No," said the Captain, (Snap bristled,) “nor I
neither.”
In this way between stops and starts, and si
dles and snorts, the Captain reached home great
ly to his delight, and the still greater delight ol
William.
The lecture he gave his nephew at their next
meeting, we leave the reader to conjecture.
Chapter Xvm.
Long Mate—Moral Philosophy —The Captain
troubled— William and his mother pleased —
William returns to school —Solemn interview
with Dr. WaddeL
When the time came for William Mitten to re
turn to school, he begged his uncle to allow him
to keep his horse at Wellington. lie thought
“that if he boarded two or three miles from
the school house, and rode to school and back
to his boarding house every day, his health
would be greatly improved.” He said that “ifhe
had a horse to ride to the post office he could get
and mail letters speedily—that he often wished
to go and hear Mr. Waddel preach at Rocky
River Church ; but that he had no means of
getting there —that it would cost nothing hardly
to keep a horse at Willington —that several
times during the summer he had suffered from
head ache, occasioned by hard study and want
of exercise, and that unless he could take more
exercise in the summer months than he had
been taking, he feared his health would he
ruined—that in the winter it was not so bad;
for the exercise of getting wood, and the active
plays of the school, at this season, gave him
plenty of exercise ; but in warm weather, he
sometimes got %o weak that it seemed to him ho
would faint.”
Mrs. Mitten said “that she would cheerfully
bear the expense of ths horse, if her brother
would consent to William’s keeping him at Wil
lington—that the idea of his constitution being
shattered by severe study was distressing to her
—that she had suffered no little in mind herself,
from the difficulty of hearing from William often
through the mails —that there was something
delightful in the thought of her son going to sa
cred service with his preceptor. She could con
ceive of nothing more likely to produce recip
rocal endearment between the two than this ;
but that if brother David thought differently,
she had nothing to say.”
“William,” said the Captain, “you perplex me
not a little. The horse is yours, and I do not
like to Interfere with your right of property in
him ; and yet, to allow you to take him off to
school with you, and keep him there, knowing as
I do how you have used him, seems to me little
better than wilfully puttingyour life in jeopardy,
encouraging yon to idleness, pushing you into
difficulties with your preceptor, and periling all
my bright hopes of you at once. What could
have possessed me to make you such a present
as that 1 Yes, I know what possessed me ; I
wished to show you my gratification at your
progress—to encourage you in your studies ; to
prove my affection for you ; to. give you confi
dence in my counsels, and to give you lieultllful,
agreeable, and useful exercise during your va
cation Why didn’t I think to reserve the
right of taking him back, if you abused or mis
used the gift! ”
“Uncle, you can take him back, if you wish to.”
“ No, I will not do that; but I’ll tell you
what I will do : he cost mo one hundred dol
lars ; now I will give you for him, one hundred
and twenty dollars in any property you will
name—but a horse. That sum will get you a
very pretty little library, that will be of use to
you through life. Or your mother will add to it,
I know, a hundred and eighty more, and tliat
will get you a nice waiting boy—or anything
else that you prefer. But mind, Ido not wish
you to make the trade merely to gratify me, or
merely to appease my anxieties, or quiet my ap
prehensions. Act without fear or constraint in
the matter. You will not offend me if you re
ject my offer."
“ Why, William,” said Mrs. Mitten, “ surely
when you see your Uncle's solicitude ”
“ Stop, Anna ! My solicitude has nothing to
do with the matter ”
“ I was only going to call to William’s mind
how sound your judgment had been in every
thing touching his interest——”
“ Well, all that at another time. William’s
judgment in this matter is and ought to be his
guide. In considering my proposition, forget
that lam your Undo; forget all the good
that I have ever done you, and decide upon it
with perfect freedom of will. I’ll put it in the
right view before you : Suppose that Mr. Cun
ningham was to come and make you precisely
the offer which I make you ; what Would you
say to it ?”
“ I would refuse it from him ; but ”
“ That’s enough, my son ”
“ But, brother, I don't think that because lie
would refuse the offer from Mr. Cunningham, it
follows by any means that he would not freely
and voluntarily accept it from you.”
“ No, Uncle ; Mr. Cunningham has never done
me the favors that you have : he’s no relation of
mine ; I do not respect his judgment as I do
yours; and to prove what I say, I now tell
you that though I never was as much attached
to anything in all my life as I am to Snap-Drag
on, I freely and voluntarily, and of my own
judgment alone, accept your proposition; and
you shall say whether the pay for the horse
shall be in books or a negro boy.”
“ No, my son ; I admire your kind feelings
towards me; they are a full return for all that I
have done for you ; but I can’t base a trade
upon them. Yon are willing to accommodate
me; but you are not willing to part with your
horse —though you think you are. He is yours,
my dear boy, and I will not purchase him from
you upon any other considerations than those
which would influence you in a trade with a
stranger.”
“ Why, brother, that seems to- me a very
strange refinement.”.
“ I don’t think so, sister. Suppose I had
opened the proposition in this way : ‘William, I
regret that I gave you that horse. Now, I gave
him to you, unasked for; I am. 3-011 r Unde,
who loves you; w 110 has done a great deal for
you; to whom you owe a large debt of grati
tude, but for whom you would never have gone
to Mr. Waddel’s school, and by consequence,
must have lost all the honors you have gained
there ; in all which, as in many other instances,
you have seen how much better my judgment is
as to your true interests than yours ; now in my
judgment, the horse will do you more harm than
good-; yield, therefore, to my judgment—return
my love and kindness, by giving me back the
horse.’ Would you think all this right ?”
“ No, certainly ; for that would be just work
ing upon the child’s feelings, to get from him his
horse for nothing; but you propose to give him
more than the value of the horse, and in better
property.”
“ Then there is no difference between the case at
hand, and the case put, but in the return that
is offered to him for the horse. It is right to
work on his feelings in any way I please to get
his horse from him, provided, I give him for him
what you and / think, a fine price 1 Is that your
doctrine? Don’t you you think that Wiliam
ought to have a will in the matter ?”
“ Oh, psow! The cases are not at all alike.
You havn't gone on with all that string of ap
peals to his heart; you would not let me even
speak of your better judgment; you forewarned
him not to let his decision be governed in any
way by his relation to vou or your kindness to
him. He’s not a man to judge of prices, and of
what will be best for him.”
“Nevertheless, he has all the rights of a man
in trade. It would be very silly in him to re-
i Two Dollar* Per Annum, »
1 Aiwa)* In Advance. f
fuse five thousand for his horse ; but if he chose
to do so, I don’t think you would force him to
take it, and I am sure I would not ”
“Well, if lie was such a simpleton as to re
fuse five thousand dollars for his horse, I dont
know but I would force him to take it I cer
tainly would advise him strenuously to take it
But what has all this to do with the ease ? Have
you forced him?”
“No, but he is acting upon precisely the feel
ings that my supposed appeals to his sensibili
ities would have produced.”
“And are they not praiseworthy feelings,
brotlver ?"
“ Highly praiseworthy, sister 1 Too praise
worthy to be abused ; and it would be an abuse
of them in mo, to avail myself of them to de
prive him of a piece of property which he does
not wish to part with. And now, my dear boy,
I withdraw my proposition; and let it not dis
tress you the least in the world, that I have
done so. Do not suppose that I will blame you,
or harbor any unkind feelings towards you for
your reluctance to part with him ”
“ But Uncle, I tell you again, lam willing to
part with him to you —perfectly willing "
“ Well, my son, I think the more of you for
that; but let us drop the matter. Keep your
horse, son, but don’t think of taking him to Dr.
Waddel’B. I have not yet fully made up my
mind whether I have authority to forbid your so
doing—l incline to the opinion that, standing as
I do in the place of a parent to you, duty re
quires me to interdict positively your keeping a
horse at Willington ; but I hope you will not
force me to decide that question by attempting
to take liim. I have many things to say against
it, but let these suffice; You’ve spoiled that
horse—he is dangerous to others, if not to you
- -you will have fifty students on his back, and
some of them may get hurt—perhaps lulled by
him. He wiil be a useless expense to your mo
ther—the summer months are now gone—he
will interfere with your studies—dispatch of
letters between here and Willington is of no
consequence, and the wc-atlier w’ill be too cold
for you to go off to preaching with Mr. Waddel.”
“ Now, brother,” said Mrs. Mitten, “ don’t un
derstand me in what I say, as interfering in the
least with your authority over William, or as
opposing my judgment to yours, or as raising the
slightest objection to your dealing with him is
this matter as you think best; but simply as
asking an explanation of you. William offers
you his horse upon your own terms ; you re
fuse him because he does not offer him from the
right motives, or the nght feelings, or something
else that I don’t understand, and yet you doubt
whether you will allow him to use him as he
wishes to. How do you reconcile these views ?”
“It will be time enough to reconcile them when
I come to act upon them ; but should I deem it
my duty to forbid bis keeping a horse at Willing
ton, I should reconcile them just as you would
in giving a toy to your child, and forbidding him
to use it to the annoyance of your household, or
to the injury of himself.”
“ But William is not now a child, and I am sure
that he would obey your directions strictly in
the use of him.”
“ Yes, Uncle; you may just lay down the
law, and I will obey it strictly in every thing.’' .
“ But I cannot anticipate all the ways in
which you may misuse him.”
“ Brother, will you take it amiss if I venture
a word of advice here ?’’
No; by no means. I will always hear your
views in reference to your child with pleasure ;
and what is more, I will always take it, if I am
not confident that it will operate to the prejudice
of your son.”
“ Well I know that you take a pleasure in
indulging him in everything you can. that you
do not think will be injurious to him.”
“True!”
[TO BE CONTINUED.] . -
♦♦♦■ •«■»—
The Shakspeake Controversy.— ls we may
believe the Critic, the controversy respecting
Mr. Collier s Shaksperian “Kroendations” is like
ly to assume a new and rather startling phase.
Mr. Parry, the alleged former possessor of the
celebrated folio, denies that this copy was ever
in his possession; that, on the contrary, “it dif
fered in edition, in binding, in corrections—in
fact in every particular in which a book can dif
fer —f ro m the folio 1 Shakspear ’ formerly in his
possession.” If we are not misinformed, (says our
cotemporary,) Mr. Collier may be called upon to
defend the Shaksperian papers at Bridgewater
House, once in his possession. It is said that
precisely the same observations, as to pencil
handwriting, of a modem character, underlying
a paint or ink writing, have been made, and that
even a strong similarity in character has been
detected.
—m
Marrying Cousins.— lt has been ascertain
ed by careflil investigation into the influence of
consanguinity upon offspriug, that over ten per
cent of the blind, and nearly fifteen per cent, of
the idiotic, in the various State institutions, for
the subject of their defects are the offspring of
kindred parents. ■ • •
NO. 17.