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VOL. l v
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
NIGHT AND LIFE
BY J. WOOD DAVIDSON.
I saw in dreams the shadow of the earth
Cling to her like a reeling spire. I saw
It point to all the starry spaces in
Their turn—a cone within whose concave base
Earth rolls eternally. That shade is night
To all earth-walking men.
From earth I saw
The same. And here, of all things earth-seen else,
’Tis likest life. Its stars come one by one,
Like thoughts in youth. The moon at various hours
Arises o'er the night, a star of stars—
The thought of thoughts — the light of Love— to shine
■Within our life with ever-varying phase.
Such, lunar light, and such the light of Love.
It glorifies—imparadises all •
The dark and sunless surface of tjie world;
And when It sets, that night can see it rise
On it no more. Can Love that sets upon
The night of life arise arise again ? When lights
Os life—its stars, its moon—have set, or paled
In dawn, life looks for Sun, in spirit world,
To rise in splendor brighter than all life—
The Sun of Love—the Light of Truth—in God's
Eternal day. To such a morrow's sun.
The starry night, with all its moonless gloom.
May look with all the certainty of death.
In night—in life—we wander, guided most
But darkly, by the dim thought-light of stars,
And dimly see each brother's face; and oft
Mistake a demon or a phantom, for
A brother's self. Our means of guidance too,
Is oft a brother’s distant voice, and that
Too often is a cry of agony— - -
A brother, nay, perchance a sister lost!
The night is darker towards the coming day,
They say, just as the second childhood deepens
Ere the dawn of death-land's brighter day.
I watched the night—the shadow of the earth—
Thus in my dreams. ’Twns ever from the sun
And ever shifting, sweeping on through spaco
In dizzying whirl; its dawn —the shores of life—
Forever changing to each soul that lives.
Its cause was light—the Sun ;so light finds cause
In Light—creating Light In God. When night
Be done, the world has ceased to be ; for Sun
And world make night; as Gotland man, man's life.
Or else, the sun may cease, and then will—night;
So, else, must God be not, or man, that life,
Like sunless night, forever be no more.
And night conceals the earthy earth, but then
Beveals the heavenly heavens above, that day
Denies us sight of.
Thus, as night is proof
Os sun to cast it, which because of night
We cannot see, even thus, is life the proof
Os God—a living light beyond our view,
Which is to rise like morrow's sun upon
Our dawning souls and make our spirit day.
I love tho night, and love tho life alike.
They both in common darkness tell my soul
Os light—and both assure my soul of life
Beyond. And life and night have mystery.
Columbia, 8. C.
—
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
Entered according to the Act of Congress, Ac., Ac.
by the Author.
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN;
OR,
A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS,
WHO WAS RUINED BY BAD LUCK.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC.
“But hear me, hear mel” continued Bill,
“ Let me explain! You see, Uncle disliked
my bringing my horse, very much ; and after
giving him all the reasons I could think of to
let me bring him, I told him I would like some
times to go with Mr. Waddel to Rocky River
Church I When I said that, I saw something in
Uncle’s looks, which made me believe he thought
I was telling a lie ”
“And who the devil is your Uncle?” said
Jones. “Do you belong to your Uncle ?”
“Jones, you mustn’t say anything against my
Uncle —lie’s one of the best men in the world,
and ”
“Oh, go on Bill; I did’nt mean to say any
thing against your Uncle.”
“ Well, as I was saying, I want to go with
Doctor Waddel one time, and if I can go before
I write my first letter and tell’em of it when I
write, it will convince Uncle I told the truth,
please Mother, and make them very willing for
me to keep my horse till Christmas. But if I
don’t, my Uncle, who watches everything like a
hawk, will have a boy here after my horse as
soon as the weather turns cool.”
“ Oh, well,” said Jones, “ that’s not so bad;
but take care of old Mose, by the way, or he’ll
havo you back to Newby’s Monday morning,
to a certainty.”
“ But,” said Smith, “ suppose old Wad. does
not preach at Rocky River, what will you do
with your horse Saturday and Sunday ?"
“ I shall ride him to Vienna, toenail a letter—"
“ That’ll do; when you get to Vienna, go
over to Petersburg, and buy a pack of cards."
j JANIES GARDNER, I
1 Proprietor. |
“But my orders are not to ride my horse
further than Vienna, except to preaching.”
“ Well,” said Smith, “you needn't ride over
to Petersburg, you can go there afoot.”
“ That's it,” said Bill, snapping his fingers
joyously.
The evening passed off with but little study.
William’s class usually recited to one of the
Assistants, but the next morning, it was called
before Doctor Waddel. The Doctor arranged
the order of recitation, so as to throw the last
part of the lesson to William. He had not been
over it, and he bungled shamefully.
“Why, William,” said the Doctor, “what's the
matter with you ? I never knew you to receite
so poor a lesson. I'm afraid you don’t study at
your new boarding house, as well as you did at
your old one.”
William was excessively mortified and his
classmates no less surprised.
After the class retired, William enquired of
Doctor Waddel, whether lie preached at Rocky
River, the next Sabbath.
“No, myson,” said the Doctor, “but I preach
there, the Sabbath after. Why do you ask? do
you think of accompanying me ?’’
“Yes. Sir.’ 1
“I am very glad to hear that. Now you are
going to made a good use of your horse. If you
never make a worse use of him, you will do
well.”
Saturday came, and William, at an early hour
after breakfast, was off to Vienna to mail a let
ter. As the letter was written only to be mailed,
it of course was not written in his usual diffuse,
florid style; but wliat it lost in beauty, grace
and polish, it gained in conciseness, nerve and
point. Here it is:
Will’n, Sep. 7.
“Dear Mother:—l just write for fear you will
feel uneasy if you get no letter from me by this
mail. Tom can tell you all about me. Delight
ed with my boarding house—Fare much better
thansNew’s —Health good—Told Mr. Wad’l I
wished to go to preach’g with him, if he went to
day, but he don’t go till next Sat’y—Best love
to all.
In haste your af’te son,
Wsi. M.”
After mailing his letter, he went over to Pe
tersburg and bought a pack of cards, a tickler
of peach brandy, and a plug Os tobacco. “My
son,” said the merchant as he handed him the
articles, “ these are ugly things forsuch a youth
as you are to buy.”
“ Oh, I don’t buy any of them for myself, 1
buy them for Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones, who live
about nine miles from here.”
The merchant knew William at sight as the
youth who had distinguished himself so much
at the exhibition, and he naturally felt pained to
see a boy of his talents engaged in such a dan
gerous traffic. Hence his remark, which pro
duced from William one lie and two truths, in
consolidated form. He bought the cards for
himself, the brandy for Smith, and the tobacco
for Jones.
He returned immediately to his residence, and
spent the afternoon and till twelve at night,
playing cards and drinking peach brandy. The
next day he was sick. On Monday he went to
school, was called again to recite to Doctor
Waddel, and knew nothing of his lesson. It
was rarely the case that the Doctor called one
of the lower classes to recite to him two mor
nings in succession.
“What,” said he to William, “ with all Satur
day, and all Monday morning to get your lesson
in, come up here and know nothing about it, sir!
You don’t study, sir!”
The Doctor enquired of Mr. Dobbins how
Smith and Jones recited that morning. “ They
didn’t recite at all,” responded Dobbins. “Smith
said he had been sick from Friday evening till
Monday morning, and Jones cam 6 up with his
jaw tied up in a handkerchief, and took on as if
he was raving distracted with the tooth-ache.
He disturbed the class so that I excused him
from attending recitation.”
Tuesday they all appeared at school, as well
prepared for recitation as usual, but the Doctor
lieard none of them.
On Wednesday they were not noticed until
after prayer in the evening. This service over,
he hauled a tickler out of his pocket, and said;
“ William Mitten, come forward!” William
just had strength to step forward, and that was
all.
“ Do you know this tickler, sir ?’’
“Ye-e-s, sir.”
“ Whose is it?”
“ It’s Smith’s, sir.”
“You took it to Petersburg last Saturday,
didn’t you, sir; and got it filled with peach
brandy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“ Who did you get it for ?”
“Smith, sir.”
“Whose pack of cards is this?” asked the
Doctor, drawing a pack of cards from his pocket.
Bill did not require an inspection of it, to
give the answer:
“ It’s mine, sir.”
“ You and Jones and Smith sat up late on Sat
urday night, playing cards and drinking peach
brandy, didn’t you ?”
»We—j—Jo—l did, sir.”
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1859.
Wm. M.”
“ You did, sir. Did rou play cards by your
self till late at night ?■ -and drink all Smith’s
brandy yourself?”
“No sir; they draul some.”
“ And did they sit >y and help you drink,
while you played cards by yourself?”
“ No, sir; they plays! too some.”
“ Perhaps you may t link that I got my infor
mation of your dealing at Petersburg, from the
merchant who sold yoi the cards, brandy, and a
plug of tobacco. Iha e not seen him, and no
man in Petersburg c ■ Vienna told me a syl
lable about it. Alexa ider B. Linton, bring me
six tough hickories in the morning, suited to the
occasion. In the langi age of Bob Roper’s com
position, 1 the apple o£ discord has been cast in
among us, and if not jspeedily snipt in the bud,
it will inevitably expldde and shroud us in tire
pitchy night of anarchy and confusion, and de
luge the country with fire and sword.’ As that
apple is as dangerous to schools as it is to the
country, I'll try to nip it in the bud effectually,
in the morning—You tre dismissed.” ,
As for Jones and,’ Smith, nobody cared for
them, but the whole school sympathized with
William. They laid all his faults to them, (rath
er more than was due to them, by the way,) and
rejoiced at the retribution that was in reserve
for them. Gilbert Hay accompanied him for
about a quarter of a Mile on his way to his lodg
ings. To this point they walked hand in hand,
William leading his horse, and both weeping bit
terly.
Here they stopped, and William broke silence:
“Gilbert,” said he, “nothing gave me so
much pain iq leaving as parting,
with you. How happy we were in talking to
gether, working together, playing together, and
studying together! I'd give ten thousand mil
lions of dollars if I hadn't left you
“ Will, come back now.”
“ It’s too late now—l’m disgraced, I’m ruined
I wish that my horse and Jones and Smith
were all tumbled together in the flames of Hell!
Stop Gilbert: don’t leave me!"
“ I will leave you, William, if you talk in that
way, and, much as I love you, I must drop your
acquaintance, if you use such language.”
‘ Forgive me, Gilbert, I hardly know what I
say. Y r ou have no idea what I suffer”—
“ Why, it’s no killing matter, to get whipped
by Mr. Wad ”
“ Whipped! I don’t mind the whipping at all,
severe as I know it will be. If cutting my legs
to the bone would just put me back to that hap
py night I spent at your house, I’d take it wil
lingly.”
“ Then what is it that distresses you so ?
You are not the first boy that Mr. Waddel has
ever caught playing cards and drinking liquor, I
kqaw.” •
“ If I should tell you, you never would own
me as a friend or acquaintance again."
“ Well, it can’t be worse than I’ll think it is, if
you don’t tell me.”
“In less than one short fortnight, I have de
ceived the best of mothers, the best of uncles;
forsaken you, the best of friends ; despised the
advise of the best of teachers; drank, gambled
and lied —disgraced myself in my class, as you
know, and disgraced myself in the eyes of all
who applauded me at the examination and exhi
tion. They will hear of it Why, here’s
Tom! What’s the matter at home, Tom ?”
“ Mas’ David is very sick. He thinks he’s
going to die, and he wants to see you before he
dies. Here’s a letter from Missis.”
« Lord have mercy upon my poor soul 1” half
shrieked William. “ Can’t I die ! Can’t I die!
Read it, Gilbert!”
Bv the dim twilight he read :
“My Dearest Boy : Two days after you left us,
your Uncle was attacked with bilious fever.—
The attack is very severe, but we hope not fatal.
Last evening he begged that you might be sent
for. Come as quick as you can, in mercy to
your horse. The Doctor says there is no prob
ability of his dying in four or fiv§ days ; so do
not peril the life of your horse, in your haste to
get here. Your afl’ectionate mother,
Anna Mitten.”
“Oh Gilbert! Gilbert! How shall I face a dy
ing uncle and an atliicted mother ? Show the
letter to Mr. Waddel. Tell him I thank him for
all his kindness to me—that I never shall forget
tlio bccch
“Thebeech! What does that mean, Wil
liam ?”
“Ho knows—he will tell you. Farewell, my
dearest, best classmate!”
Gilbert went immediately with the letter to
Doctor Waddell, and delivered it with William’s
message. The Doctor listened, read, and walked
the floor in great agitation of mind. After a few
strides backwards and forwards, he spoke : “It
is awful, awful to think of such a star as that
being eclipsed just at its rising! A breath may
change the destiny of a-youth for time and eter
nity. If ever there was a boy of more brilliant
promise than William Mitten, three months
ago, I don’t think I ever saw him. And where
is he now ! Why is it that in the contact of vir
tue and vice, vice always gets the advantage—at
least with the young ?”
“ Mr. Waddel, what did William mean by the
beech t”
I’ll take you to it and explain, to-morrow at
twelve; but I little dreamed that the catastro
phe was so near at hand ! At a proper time. I
will write to his uncle, —or mother, to send him
back. His heart's in the right place still, and
he may yet be the pride of his mother, the
boast of his teacher, and the glory of his coun
try.”
“If you write, Mr. Waddel, tell him I love
him yet; and that the front side of my bed is
waiting for him yet.”
William wended his way to his boarding house,
slowly and sadly. On reaching it, he went in
and informed the landlord of the distressing ti
dings from home, and that he would leave at the
dawn in the morning. He refused supper, and
walked towards the study, near the steps of
which Smith and Jones were standing.
“ Well,’’ said Smith, “ you’ve stayed so long
we thought you’d run away. You’ve got us into
a hell of a scrape, and you may well look sheep
ish.”
“ Smith, that boy has just come for me—my
Uncle’s at the point of death ”
“ Y r ou’re d nd lucky, to have a sick Uncle
just at this time.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth, be
fore the onset of William’s fight with Black was
renewed precisely ; but not with precisely the
same results. In his fall, Smith’s head struck the
corner of a step, and ho came senseless to the
ground. Jones, supposing that he was only a
little stunned by the fall, and that he would soon
rally and give William a tremendous beating,
(jsut what he desired) did not interpose.
liam supposed so too, (i.e., that he would
rise) and he resolved to improve the interim q !
the best advantage. Such language, at a "
time, from such a character, set his whole soul j
on fire, and inspired him with supernatural
strength and inhumanity. Ho dealt blow after
blow upon the face, neck, and ribs of the unre
sisting Smith, with a force and rapidity that hor
rified Jones, and would have astonished any
one. It was in vain that Jones cried out “for
God’s sake, Mitten, stop, he’s dead!” “ If he
isn’t dead, I’ll kill him,” said Mitten. Rising
from the body, he stamped Smith in the face
with his heavy nail-pegged shoes, and was in
the act of repeating the injury, when the land
lord and Tom both seized him and forced him
into the house. As they dragged him away,
“ Stop,” said he “ let me give Jones a little, and
then I’ll be satisfied.” He was given in charge
of Tom, while the landlord and Jones took care
of Smith. His head was cut to the bone, and
the wound was clogged up with blood jjnd dirt.
His face was like nothing human. He was
washed, undressed, and put to bed; but he did
recover his senses, though he breathed, and his
pulse beat. There was no physician within
miles of the place, and the landlord did not sup
pose it nectssary to send for one so far off, as he
deemed it certain that Smith would die or be
out of danger before he could get there. In a
hali hour’s time William became cool, and sur
rendered himself to grief again. A bed was
prepared for him in the house, his trunk was
brought in, he washed, changed his bloody
clothes for clean ones, packed such as he need
ed in the saddle-bags, sent Tom to attend to the
horses, and threw himself on the bed to wait, in
tears, the coming dawn.
In the meantime, Jones and the landlord were
at the bedside of Smith, in a state of the most
intense anxiety. The former was in the deepest
agony. He and Smith had agreed to run away
from school the next morning. It was further
arranged that Smith should give Mitten a sound
dressing over-night, because he had not managed
his purchases in Petersburg with sufficient cun
ning ; because he had not extemporized lies ac
cording to his talents, under Waddel’s examina
tion ; because he had told the truth where he
ought to have told lies, and bungled even at the
truth, and because “he wanted whipping any
how.” There was a short debate between them
as to which should have the pleasure of chas
tising William. Smith said that he was so much
over Bill’s size and age, that it would look a lit
tle mean in him to do it.
“Now you, Jones,” continued Smith, “are
just about his weight, and you are but a little
older than he is; if you woul J fan him out, there
would be some honor in it.”
“Oh, I can whip him easy enough,” said
Jones, “and will do it if you insist upon it, but
he will be certain to bung up my face a little at
the beginning of the fight, for you know be can
throw me just as fast as I can get up, and I hate
to go home with my face scratched and bunged
up. It will be hard enough for me to make
peace with old John [his father] anyhow. But
you can tie him—you can flog him without a
scratch, and don't hurt him much. It would be
mean in a boy of your size to hurt him much;
just whip a little common sense in him.’
The matter was arranged accordingly: but
instead of Smith’s whipping a little common
sense into Bill, behold Bill had knocked a great
deal of very common sense out of Smith.
To run away and leave Smith in his present
condition was not to be thought of. To remain
with him until after prayers the next morning,
womd be certain to awaken Doctor Waddel’s
curiosity concerning the state of his health, as
early as old Hector could bring him hither; and
as his old prejudices had greatly strengthened
j Two Dollars Per Annum, (
j Always In Advance. f
that day, he had no dispositionjto encounter him
anywhere. From what had passed Between him
and Smith, there was a fair implication that if
Smith did not whip William, he would; and
though Smith might not hold him responsible for
the implied pledge, he would be very apt to hold
him responsible for allowing William to beat
him while he was in a state of insensibility.
William's retiring remark, too, made him feel
very uneomiortable; for though he had done
nothing to incur his wrath but sympathise with
Smith in every thing, and drop one disrespect
ful remark about William’s uncle, already atoned
for, it was plain that William's mind was not
in a condition to allow the proper credits,
in closing up his uncle’s claims. He was very
certain that William would sleep none that
night, and if he should conclude to come out a
little before day and give him a parting blessing
when all were asleep but tho two, it would be—
very ill-timed, to say the least of it. So that,
upon the whole, none of the household spent a
more uncomfortable night of it than poor Jones
did. To have got rid of the troubles of that
single night, he would have been perfectly
willing to sign a written pledge to love
“old Moses” all his life, elegantly, and to accom
pany him to Rocky River Church monthly, du
ring the term of his pupilage.
Smith did not come fully to himself until
about twelve o'clock. When he recovered his
mind, and saw with but one eye (for he could
not open the other, and one not fully,) Jones and
the landlord koe»«pg watch over him, his shirt
.11 bloody, 4 \3Bpd himself in pain all over,
“ Why, wm4r%e matter with me V” mutter
ed he from two U’teAtaly swollen lips.
“Sever mind, “lie still and be
quiet till morning, and we’ll tell you all about
it.”
While Jones was talking, Smith was feeling
his face and head.
“Why how did I get in this fix ?” enquired he,
“ I’m in a dreadful fix—my back, hip, head and
face all pain me awfully. Jones, tell me who ‘
treated me so? Have I been out of my head?
What i’clock is it ?”
“ Never mind, Smith—never mind,” said
Jones, “you’ll soon be over it if you’ll be quiet.
Lie still till morning, and we’ll explain all things
to your satisfaction.”
“pidn’t Mitten clinch me ? Did he strike me
with a stick ? He couldn’t ”
“ Oh, go to sleep, go to sleep, Smith, and quit
talking. A bad accident has happened to you,
and you must be quiet, or there’s no telling
what’ll come of it.”
“ I don’t recollect anything after he clinched
me; but it’s impossible he could have hurt me
so bad—ls he gone?”
“ Yes,” said Jones, “ he’s gone long ago—he
didn’t do it—it was an accident, I tell you, and
you must be quiet and not talk, or you muy lose
your life.”
In this way Smith was quieted, dropped to
sleep, and did not wake until an hour by sun
the next morning, when William was ten miles
on his way homeward.
By ten o’clock Doctor Waddel was at Mr.
’s. The whole matter was explained to
him. He told Jones to stay with Smith and
nurse him untd he was able to walk to school.
Jones did so; but instead of walking to school,
they walked home —or rather walked to where
they could get horses to ride home. It was the
Doctor’s habit to follow runaways and bring
them back, but he was too glad to get rid of
these gentlemen to do so in this instance.
William’s purchase in Petersburg soon became
the town talk, for almost every body in town
knew him as the bright boy of the exhibition,
and every body deplored the indications of ruin
that his purchases gave. Tho talk soon spread
from Petersburg to Willington, and from Wil
lington to Doctor Waddel's ears. He went im
mediately to Mitten’s room, where he found the
cards and tickler unconcealed, and surprised
Mitten with them, as we have seen. Thus did
he possess himself of the few facts, from Which
he drew out of William all tlxat the trio had
done after the cards and brandy reached their
room. He explained to young Hay, according
to his promise, William’s reference to the beech,
the import of which William fully understood
after his disgrace. What a lamentable thing it
is, that there is no way of inducing the young
to follow 1 the counsels of the old I
(to be continued.)
Original Anecdote of Washington.—A
correspondent sends to us the following :
The mother of Miller Bledsof, (the well known
old time Baptist preacher of Georgia,) lived
I near Fredericksburg, Virginia, in the neighbor
l hood of the mother of George Washington.
! Going over one evening, to visit her neighbor,
Mrs. Bledsoe found Mrs. Washington at her cow
pen, when, pointing to her calves, she said:
“ That if George did not quit fighting the French,
and come home and attend to the stock, all the
calves would die of the lice.”
Author. —A man who thinks aloud, that
others may do without thinking.
—• ■ i
Age. —The only secret a woman keeps.
NO. 19.