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About The Southern field and fireside. (Augusta, Ga.) 1859-1864 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 17, 1859)
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.
