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Southern Field and Fireside.
YOL. 1.
THE WATER SPRITE.
(WRITTEN OS THE BF.A-SII OEE . )
Dancing o'er the sea foam white, (
Thus a merry Water Sprite,
Thing of fancy, sang one night,
Sang to me right cheerily.
“ ’Tis sweet to roam
O’er the wild sea foam,
Where the storm birds are flying ;
Then come o'er the wave,
To onr blue sea cave,
In the depths of ocean lying.
We, spirit bands,
O'er the golden sands,
Will lead thee to grottoes fair,
Where, gathered for thee,
Neath the deep blue sea,
Are jewels and treasures rare.
With diamonds bright,
We'll charm thy sight,
Keflccting hues of glory,
And pearls that might deck
A proud queenly neck,
From the crown of the Sea King hoary.
Then come with me,
O’er the wild, wild sea,
Ceme dance o'er the sjiarkling foam ;
Throngh our balls so bright,
With ceruleandight,
' 'Twill be sweet with us to roam.”
Then I said—-‘O Water Sprite,
Thing of fancy, robed in light,
Dancing o'er the sea foam bright.
Wooing me thus cheerily;
Will ye take me to the eaves
Down, down, down, 'neatb ocean's waves,
Where the still waters o'er the graves
Os the loved, press heavily ?
Will ye give me back the lost,
Whom ye gathered, tempest-tost.
Whom ye bound with icy frost—
Death’s icy frost, so drearily ?
Give me back the pure, the true,
In their youth's unsullied dew
Rapt away ?—Ah, there are few
Whom I love so tenderly.
Render these ; and keep the gem !
The loved ones lost, — I ask but them ;
They shall form my Diadem,
They, I mourn so wearily 1”
Then I heard the Water Sprite:
“ We arc Fancies, robed in light;
To the merry heart and bright
Ever talking cheerily.
We bring treasures to the gay.
Chasing from them gloom away,
Singing to them songs, all day,
Living with them merrily;—
From beneath the mighty dome
Where the mermaids have their home,
What thou lov'st can never come;
Thou would’st seek there hopelessly.
Vainly there thoul't hope to And
The pure, the true, the heaven-born mind l
Ocean hath no power to bind
What must live eternally.
Tis the clay forms of the Dead,
Whence the Immortal spark hath flod.
That we lay on mossy bed.
With aapphires blue and corals red.
Decking them out tenderly.
When Ocean wild, with wrathful roar.
Dashes proud navies on his shore,
Or drives them down to rise no more,
Foundering, oh, dreadfully 1
When strongmen breast the whelming w*v e .
That soon must be their watery grave.
And women shriek for one to savf,
And shriek, and die, so fearfully !
In that hour of darkest fear,
Angel bands arc hovering near.
Hovering round the good, the dear,
To catch the Spirit tenderly.
And bear it up above the roar,
Os Ocean to th’ Eternal Shore,
Where Pain and Fear shall be no more
Remembered through Eternity.
Seek not then in Ocean's cave,
Seek not thy loved in whelming wave;
God hath taken whatlle gave,
And garner'd it up faithfully.”
Then I turned me from the Sprite—
“ Thou has taught me, thing of light,
To walk by humble Faith, net Sight,
And trust my God eternally.” T.
i
Prater.—A good old author, with a quaint
ness which has a touch of real sublimity, says :
11 Prayer is the rope in the belfry—we pull it,
and it rings the bell in heaven—and so it is.
Keep that bell moving. Poll it well, and though
the bell is so high that you cannot hear it ring,
depend upon it, it can be heard in the tower of
Heaven, and is ringing before the throne of God,
who will send answers of peace accroding to
your faith.”
< JAIIES GARDNER, [
1 Proprietor. j
[For the South £ n Field and Fireside.]
Entered according to the Act of Congress , etc., etc.
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
CHAPTER XXI.
Doctor WaddeTs letter does not produce the desired
effect —Master Mitten resolves to be a merchant
—IHs mother seeks a clerkship for him, and
meets with very lad luck — Mr. Markham comes
to their relief.
So delighted was Mrs. Mitten with the first
part of Dr. Waddel’s letter, that she rushed
with it half read to her son, and recommenced
the reading for his edification and comfort.—
With the close of almost every sentence, she
would ejaculate, “ Dear, good man /” “How
kind I ” “ Such a man is a national blessing /”
“ Who can hilp loving him /” But when she
came to the whipping part, she was enabled to
read without comments, and with becoming com
posure. Having finished the perusal, “ Well,”
said she, “ upon the whole, it is a sweet letter;
but I cannot see the necessity of his whipping
a boy of your size a month after the offence is
committed, and when he himself admits that
there are so’many circumstances of extenuation
in the case. If everybody else is ready to for
give and forget, why might not he ? But, Wil
liam, as these are tlie only terms upon which
you can get back and save your credit, I think
you had better go. I will write to Mr. Waddel,
informing him of your deep contrition, and beg
ging him if he can possibly pass over the of
fence without correction, consistently with hiis
sense of duty, to do so ; but if not, then in the
midst of justice, to remember mercy. Surely,
under all the circumstances of the case, the pur
poses of justice would be as fully answered by
two or three stripes, as by ”
“ Two or three stripes I" said Bill, “ why he
gives double that for simple idleness; and if he
were to let me off with two or three stripes, I’d
bring home the marks of them next July. I’d
rather take ten such as he commonly gives in
the summer time, when the boys wear thin
breeches, than three such as he gave one boy
named Sapling, when he found his legs wrapped
up with strips of shirt. If Igo back, and he
lets me off with less than ten peelers, or fifteen
of the common sort, I shall think myselflucky.”
“ Oh, William, you make Mr. Waddel a per
fect enigma ; how could a man of his kindness
of heart, be so inhuman 1”
“ He doesn’t think it inhuman to whip stu
dents who violate his laws ; but it is not worth
while to talk about it, ma, for I’m not going back
to Mr. Waddel’s. As to the whipping, I
shouldn’t mind that, so very much, if I could
believe that I would be put back to where I
was before I committed the offences; but I
know that that can never be.”
“ Well, my son, I hardly know what to ad
vise. You surely were born under an unlucky
star. Always, always there is something which
obstructs the way which seems best for you to
pursue. How unfortunate was it that your
uncle gave you that horse ! How much more
unfortunate, that you did not accept his offer
for him before your return to Willington ! Oh 1
were he now in life I would surrender you to
his government, and never have an opinion of
my own upon it, during your minority. But in
ths single instance of giving you the horse—and
there ho soon saw his error, and did all that he
could to correct it—his views have always
proved right, while mine, however carefully
taken, invariably turn out unfortunately."
“Well, m*. you may console yourself with
this reflection, that if Uncle David were alive, he
could not force me back to Mr. Waddel’s.”
“ Yes, William, if ho were olive, and felt con
vinced that your future destiny hnng upon it,
you would have to go. He would have
reasoned with you, he would have per
suaded you, at first; but if he found these
means unavailing, he would have carried you
back to school at all hazards. But it is in vain to
talk of supposed cases. I cannot do what he
might have done. What say you, will you go
back or not ?”
“No ma’am; never, never, never I”
“ William, my feelings are against your going,
but my convictions are strong and pungent that
you ought to go. Something whispers mo that
if you go, you will be great; if you do not, you
will be ruined. Will you submit to Mr. Mark
ham’s advice in the matter ?”
“ No, ma ; I’ve thought the matter all over,
and I’ve made up my mind, coolly and deliberate
ly, never to go back to Mr. Waddel’s.”
Now the truth of the matter is, that though
Master Mitten, while suffering the first tortures
of his exposed guilt, and supposed disgrace,
would very readily have submitted to a severe
whipping, to have regained his lost ground ; but
as he became more familiar with his disgrace, it
began to set very easily on him, while the whip
ping assumed a new interest in his cogitations,
AUGUSTA. GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15. 1859.
and became more and mor i imposing, as the dis
grace became less and les i distressing : so that
when the consultation occ irred which we have
just noticed, the whipping crowded clean out of
Master Mitten's mind, eve v other consideration.
It brought him, therefore to a very decided
judgment from which notl ing could move him
which lay within the rang <of his mother’s de
vices. And yet there win a lady living within
three hundred yards of Mrs. Mitten’s house,
a beneficiary of hers, who did not know
A from a deer's traclj, who would have
managed the case to perfection without the
help of Mr. Markham. That woman was
no other than Mrs. Nancy Brown, mother
of John Brown, surnatned Ptttus, which is
by interpretation, Pink-Eyed. We opine that
if Mrs. Brown had been in the place of
Mrs. Mitten, and Master John, in the
place of Master William, ihe would have given
him, the said John, such a “ catvhalloping,” that
Doctor Waddel's best “fifteen" would have
been a Cliarlotte-russe to it. We have no doubt
that John would have given his “cawhalloping"
for the “ fifteen,” and made one of his best bows
to Dr. Waddel, to boot.
No alternative was now loft to Mrs. Mitten
but to procure a clerkship for William in some
store of the village. Two of the merchants,
Mr. Sanders, and Mr. Dillon, had been enqui
ring for clerks, a little while before Mrs. Mitten
took the rounds in her sou’s behalf.
She went first to Mr. Sanders.
“ Mr. Sanders," said she, “ don't you wish to
employ a clerk in your store ?’’
“ Yes, madam,” said Mr. Sanders, “verymuch
indeed.”
“ Well, I would be vQgfrglad if you would
take my son William ”
“ Your son William, Mrs. Mitten ! why surely
you are not going to take such a smart boy as
that from school, to make a clerk of him 1”
“ He has quit school ”
“ Quit school! Why how did that happen ?”
“He got dissatisfied, and wished to get into
some employment, and desires a clerkship ”
“Dear, dear dear! How thoughtless boys
are I Why, Mrs. Mitten, you ought’nt to allow
him to quit school. That boy was cut out for a
great man—yes, for a very great man ”
“ Well, Mr. Sanders, his talents will not be
in the way of your employing him, I hope.”
“Oh no, ma'am, no! I prefer a smart boy to
a dull one, certainly; but it does look like such
a sacrifice to put such ahoy as that behind the
counter! If he’s determined to quit school, he
ought, by all means, to study law or physic.”
“ He’s too young for that.”
“ Oh—ah, yes. He’s too young to go into
any sort of business. A store, in such place as
this, is a very dangerous place for a youth of
William’s age. I never could forgive myself if
I should take him into my store at his tender
age, and he should turn out badly ”
“ But he will be constantly under your eye
and mine, Mr. Sanders.”
“ Ah, there’s the difficulty, Mrs. Mitten. He
will not be constantly under my eye. I have
long trips to make to the North twice a year—
repeated trips to Augusta, Savannah. But,
Mrs. Mitten, if you are disposod to risk it, such
is my regard for you and your family—but
he is too young—entirely too young!”
“Why, Mr. Sanders, he can’t be younger than
young Dally was when you first took him ; and
he did well while he was with you, and went
out of your store to preaching.”
“Very true, very true, Mrs. Mitten. But
young Daily was the son of a widow
and—so is William; and thus far the cases are
alike. But Mrs. Dally was a poor widow, with
a number of sons, and you are a rich widow with
but one son. It was a charity (somewhat) to
take her son, but it would be no charity to take
yours. And, you see, moreover, besides Mrs.
Mitten, you would never be satisfied with the
wages for William that I gave young Dally ”
“ I don’t care, Mr. Sanders, if you give him
no wages at all ”
“ Oh, bless my soul, Mrs. Mitten, that would
never do! I couldn’t think of taking your boy
for nothing."
“ Well just give him what you think proper.
It is not for the pay that I wish to put him un
der you, but simply to acquaint himself with the
mercantile business. I will board him and clothe
him myself, and if you choose to give him any
thing, very well; it will go to him, and he won’t
care whether it is much or little.”
“Ah, thoro you are mistaken, Mrs. Mitten.—
William would never be satined to see other
boys in town, not half as smart as he is, getting
two or three times as much as he gets—and I
shouldn't blame him at all. Besides, I can't
think of fixing his wages myself. If I take him,
it must be under contract with you, in which his
wages must be settled to our mutual satisfaction.
William must have nothing to do with it. Now
what would you be willing to take for his ser
vices?”
“ Why, bless my soul, Mr. Sanders, I know
nothing about such matters. I’m willing to take
any thing*you choose to give.”
Mr. Sanders looked down, scratched his bead,
and said rather to himself, than to Mrs. Mitten:
“How shall we fix this thing! I dislike wry
much that any obstacle Bhould stand in the way
of my getting the services of such a brilliant
youth as he is. But, stop, stop, stop. Does
William understand Arithmetic pretty well?—
If he doesn’t, you know it would be impossible
for me to employ him.”
“ I presume he does •, he was considered very
smart at figures by his teachers here.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I reckon we shall be
enabled to get along. Send him to-morrow
morning, Mrs. Mitten, at nine o’clock precisely,
and I will try him a little at figures, and if he
does well,, why then, that will take away the
only insuperable obstacle to employing him."
Mrs. Mitten promised to send him over at the
appointed time, and retired.
The Mr. Sanders of whom we have been
speaking, was M\ D. Sanders, who was doing
business with his brother, Mr. B. Sanders, under
the copartnership name of D. & B. Sanders. —
The last, however, was little more than a dor
mant partner.
The conversation just detailed was hardly end
ed before it reached Mr. Dillon's ears, who, at
precisely nine o’clock the next morning, closed
doors, and “ absquatulated,” as Billy Munford
would say, alias “vamoosed,” alias was “ taken
with a getting away."
William was prompt to Mr. Sanders’ appointed
hour.
“Well, William,” said Mr. Sanders, “your
mother tells me you are going to quit school,
and take to clerking. Is it so ?”
“Yes sir, I’m bent upon that.’’
“Dear me, dear me, what a pity! Why Wil
liam, you were cut out for something greater
than a counter-hopper. I earnestly advise you,
my son, to go on and finish your education.—
Everybody says that if you only take the right
turn, you will be one of the greatest men that
Georgia ever produced. Now, are you going to
disappoint us all? I want a clerk badly, but I
had rather do without a clerk a twelve month
than be the means of turning you aside from the
glory which is before you, if you only improve
your talents in the right way. So reluctant am
I to offering you any encouragement to give up
your fine prospects, that I am really afraid your
mother took up the idea that I didn’t wish to
employ you. Now, William, take an old man’s
advice; return to school, complete your educa
tion, study law, be studious, be moral, and by
and by you’ll never get done thanking me for
stopping you in the course you are now pursu-«
ing.”
“Mr. Sanders,” said William, “I’ve heard my
talents spoken of and praised ever since I was
a child, and instead of doing me any good, they
havo done me nothing but harm ”
“ Oh, my son, the time hasn’t come yet for
you to reap the benefits of your talents. Look
at lawyer M and lawyer C , and
lawyer J , who had nothing to depend up
on but their talents; where are they now ? All
on the high road to fortune and to fame! Now
I don t believe either of them had as bright tal
ents as you have.”
Just here Mr. B. Sanders, who was rarely
seen about the store, rode up, dismounted, and
walked into the counting room.
“My mind is made up, Mr. Sanders,” said
William, “and if you will not employ me, I
must seek a place elsewhere.”
“Well, if you are determined to go into a
store—which store would you prefer ?”
“ I prefer yours greatly to any store in town."
“ Well, however desirous I may be to employ
you, you know yourself, my son, that I can't do
it unless you understand figures pretty well.”
“Os course not,” said William.
“ Well, here take the slate and pencil, and let
me try you a little. How much will five and
a half yards of cloth come to, at five and a half
dollars a yard T"
The question was no sooner asked, then Wil
liam answered it by his head without touching
pencil to slate. Mr. Sanders took the slate, cipher
ed it up, found the answer correct, rubbed out
his calculation, and returned the slate to Wil
liam, saying, “Very well done, my son; but
that’s bead-work, and it won’t do to keep mer
chants’ accounts by the head; do it on the
slate.”
William did it on the slate in less time than
Mr. Sanders did it in.
“ Very well. How much will eighteen pounds
and three quarters of sugar come to, at 4 eighteen
and three quarter cents a pound.”
William gave the answer promptly, not by
his head, but according to Pike.
“Very well, William! Very promrfly and
quickly done 1 How much will of
a yard of cloth come to at five eighths of a dol
lar a yard.”
William soon presented the answer.
“It isn't right, my son,” said Mr. Sanders.
William reviewed it.
“ Yes, it is right, Mr. Sanders,” said William.
Sanders looked over it again and acknow
ledged his error. (
“Well, William,’ said Mr. Sanders, “I will
put a few more questions to you and then re
lease you. How much will seven and a quarter
yards of cloth come to at one pound, seven
shillings and sixpence ha’penny sterlings yard?"
William gave the answer correctly.
“Well, let me' try you a little at interest.”
He put dowif upon the slate “ $567* ” and
j Two Dollar* Per Annum, I
| Always In Advance. f
handed it to William. “ There," said he, “give
me tlie interest on that sum for a month and a
half, at eight per cent."
William took the slate, placed a dot to the
right of tlie first figure and handed it back, say
ing, “ there’s the answer, sir—six dollars, sixty
seven and a quarter cents."
Mr. Sanders went over the sum in the com
mon way, while William stood chuckling. When
he brought out the result just as William had
vit, he looked at him with perfect amazement.
“Well, William,” said he, “I believe you are
the smartest boy at figures that I ever saw in
all my life."
Here Mr. B. Sanders stepped in. “Why, broth
er,” said he, “ have you turned school master?"
“ No," said Mr. D., “ I was trying William on
arithmetic, to see if he would answer for a clerk
for us."
“Why, I've engaged a clerk,” said Mr. B.
Sanders.
“You have!” said Mr. D., “who is it?”
“John Dally, brother of our old clerk."
“ Why brother, yiere never was a Dally to
compare with Wm. Mitten at figures I I verily
believe he is better than both of us put togeth
er. Couldn't you get off from your engagement
with Mrs. Dally, so that we may employ Wil
liam ?”
“ I suppose I could, if I were to ask her to
let me oft', but that’s not my way of dealing.”
“Well, William,” said Mr. D. Sanders, “you
see how it is—we shall have to give you up.—
Tell your mother, that I was not only satisfied
with your knowledge of arithmetic, but that I
was delighted with it—amazed at it: but that
my brother, knowing that we wanted a clerk,
had employed one.”
William went home and related all that had,
passed between him and Mr. D. Sanders.
“ Well, was there ever such an unlucky mor
tal bom, William, as you are!” said Mrs. Mitten.
“ It seems almost supernatural.”
On Mr. Dillon’s return home, which waa two
days and a half after his “ absquattUation ,” Mrs.
Mitten waited on him to know if he would not
employ her son. But Mr. Dillon had just en
gaged a young man, who had been highly re
commended to him.
Mrs. Mitten now made application to every
other merchant in town, but they were all sup
plied with clerks; they all spoke, however, in
the highest terms of William’s talents.
“ And what will you do now, my son,” said
she, “ seeing your favorite plan is broken up ?”
“ I really don’t know, mother; I am at the
end of my row.”
Mr. Markham, hearing of her disappointment,
called upon Mrs. Mitten and proposed to her
to let William go on with his cousin David and
John Brown, and fit himself for college under
Doctor Finley, a celebrated teacher at Basken
Ridge, New Jersey. “If,” said Mr. Markham,
“ William will apply himself closely to the study
of Greek and Mathematics, (the only studies in
which he is deficient,) he will be able to enter
the Freshman class in six months with ease, I
am certain.”
The proposition was readily embraced by both
the mother and the son; and while she com
menced his outfit for the journey, he commenced
the study of Greek assiduously.
(to be continued.)
M<
Female Delicacy. —Above all other features
which adorn the female character, delicacy
stands foremost within the province of good
taste. Not that delicacy which is perpetually
in quest of something to be ashamed of; which
makes merit of a blush and simpers at the false
construction its own ingenuity has put uyon an
innocent remark; this spurious kind of delicacy
is far removed from good sense; b“t the high
minded delicacy which maintain its pure and
undeviating walk alike araq*£ women and the
society of men; which brinks from no neces
sary duty, and can sposk, when required, with a
seriousness and kir-mess, of things on which it
would be asharo*! to smile or blush; that deli
cacy which krows how to confer a benefit with
out the feelings of another, which can
give aim* without assumption, and pains not
the m*st susceptible being in creation.— [Some
Jov mil.
in 1
Family Music. —Music, like paintings and
statuary, refines and elevates, and sanctifies.
Song is the language of gladness, and it is the
utterance of devotion. But coming lower down,
it is physically beneficial; it rouses the energies,
wakes up bodily energies, and diffuses life and
animation around. Does a lazy man ever sing ?
Does a -milk-and-water character ever strike a
stirring note ? Never. Song is the outlet of
mental and physical activity, and increases both
by its exercise. No child has completed a reli
gious education, who has not been taught to sing
the song of Zion. No part of our religious wor
ship is sweeter than this.
n i t
Reasonin'^.—Never reason from what you do
not know. If you do, you will soon believe
What is utterly against reason.—[/Sawsay.
Diligence is in itself a fortune, and Industry
is a good estate for a man io have and to hold
NO. 21.