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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.