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Southern Field and Fireside.
VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
THE TEMPEST.
BY HF.SSIK B.
Looming darkly in the West,
What Is yonder phantom grim !
Awe-struck nature stands aghast!
Hushed her universal hymn.
Dreadful silence reigns around;
Total vacuum of sound !
Closely gather’d in their folds,
Co.wering stand the frightened herds ;
Every leafy thicket holds
Myriads now of trembling birds ;
Seized with one o’er-mastcring fear,
Hawk and dove are nestling near.
v Now upon the o’erstrained ear
Falls a low and distant wail!
Deeper as it cometh near—
’Tis the prelude of the gale ;
Now the Tempest, in its wrath.
Fiercely strikes the trembling earth.
Showing signs of mortal fear
Brave old Towser slinks away.
Conscious that a foe is near
Whose approuch he may not stay.
Leaving now their phantom barge.
See the uiry legions charge !
Say, my soul 1 dost thou partake
Os the universal fear ?
Dost thou, too, in terror quake
At the dreadful conflict near ?
Share not thou this wild alarm;
’Tis thy Father rules the storm I
Now’tis hushed I the battle's o'er 1
Thick it’s wrecks bestrew the ground ;
God hath spoken in His power,
Now his smiles are beaming ’round ;
He hath bidden—“ Peace, be still,”
“ And the storm obeys His will.”
Pine Cottage, Fla
—
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
Entered according to the Act of Congress, Ac., Ac.
by the Author.
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN;
08,
A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS,
WHO WAS EUINED BT BAD LUCK.
BT TUB AUTHOR Or THE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC
CHAPTER XXII.
Masters Markham, Brown, Thompson and Mitten
set out for College — Mr. Markham's last counsels
to them.
About nine days before the time appointed for
Masters Thompson, Markham, Brown and Mit
ten to leave for the North, Mr. Beach, a cele
brated manufacturer of vehicles, in Newark,
New Jersey, came to the village, on a collecting
tour through the State of Georgia. He was well
known to Mr. B. Sanders, who suggested to him
that the four youths just mentioned were about
leaving for his State, and that he would confer a
very great favor on their parents, by taking
charge of them, at least as far as his residence.
Mr. Beach very cheerfully and kindly offered to
do so, provided they could delay their.departure
until the fifteenth of the month, and meet him
at Augusta on that date. Mr. Sanders sent for
Mr. Markham, introduced him to Mr. Beach,
and the arrangement ma de to suit the con
venience of the latter. On ti )0 fourteenth, Mr.
* Markham was in Augusta with the four youths,
where he found Mr. Beach ready to take charge
of them. They were placed under his care, end
left with him for Jersey, via Savannah, the next
morning. On the evening before theirdeparturo
Mr. Markham addressed the four as follows:
“ I cannot partwith you, my young friends, per
haps forever, without giving you the benefit of my
experience and observation in the way of counsel.
Bear with me if I occasionally play the woman
in delivering it, for I speak from a heavy heart.
Was ever man placed in precisely the relation
which I sustain to you all I I can with truth
say, that I never felt the delicacy and responsi
bilities of it, in all their force, until this moment.
When I left college, I had no higher ambition
than to be a good and a useful man; and I saw
no better way of attaining these ends than by
devoting myself to the instruction of youth. I
determined to engage in this vocation —greatly
to the disappointment and mortification of my
only surviving parent, who, mother-like, far
over-estimated my gifts and attainments, and
regarded them as certain passports to high po
litical or judicial distinction, while in consonance
with a miserably perverted public opinion of
that day, (not yet entirely reformed), she esteem
ed the calling of the ‘ School Master’ as hardly
respectable. I saw the importance of it, and
the bitter fruits of this debasement of public
opinion, (that it was throwing the sacred busi
ness of instruction into the hands of the worst
of characters) and I determined that, to the ex
tent of my ability, I would elevate the character
of the teacher and rectify the popular error. I
opened my school at first in this place, and af
terwards in the village where 1 now reside. I
I JAMES GARDNER, I
I Proprietor. (
soon acquired the confidence of the villagers—at
least of all whose confidence was worth having.
I appreciated it highly, and studied to retain and
strengthen it by a faithful discharge of my duty
as an instructor, and the performance of good
offices ns a man. The consequence has been,
that trust after trust has been devolved upon
me through a long series of years. I accepted
them simply on the score of friendship, benevo
lence or humanity, thinking nothing of the re
sponsibilities attached to them, until I found
myself occupying the place of a parent to four
youths of fair promise, of different means, temp
ers and dispositions, at the most critical period
of life, on the eve of their departure from the
parental roof) for two, three or more years.—
Verily my position is an unenviable one: but it
will boa source of future rejoicing to us all, if
you choose to make it such. That you may
make it such, listen to the last counsels that I
expect ever to give you; remembering that
there are others much more deeply interested in
your observance of them, (with but ope excep
tion) than I am.
Hitherto you have had wiser heads to shape
your course, to correct your errors, to check
your wanderings, and to guard your morals,
than your own. From to-morrow you mnst be
thrown mainly upon your own resources, and
that too amidst scenes of novelty, temptation and
trial to which you are entire strangers. For
tunately for me, and more fortunately for you if
you will be advised, I am enabled to anticipate
the more serious evils to which you will be ex
posed during your sojourn abroad, and to fortify
vou against them. Come safely through these,
and your character will survive all others, though
it may be smartly chafed by them. To these
however I shall not confine my counsels, for my
purpose is, not simply to save you from ruin, but
to exalt you to honorable distinction.
I begin with your duty to Mr. Beach, who
has laid us all under obligations to him which
we can never repay. He has kindly promised
to take you to his house upon reaching Newark,
to retain you there for two days, until he can
dispose of a little pressing business, then to ac
company you to New York, and devote two
more days to showing you the city and as many
of iis curiosities as can be seen in so short a time,
and then to see’you all to your destination.—
Now whether we are indebted to his native
goodness of heart for these unusual and unlook
ed-for kindnesses, or to his friendship for Mr.
Sanders, they certainly demand your profoundest
respect and your warmest feelings of gratitude.
Let him see that you are sensible of them. In
your intercourse with him be modest, but not
bashful, easy, but not forward, familiar, but not
pert; and at all times and under all circum
stances, show him the most marked deference
and respect. When he speaks, give him your
attention. Arrest always your conversation
with each other, to hear what he has to say.—
Should he use an ungrammatical expression, or
betray ignorance of any of the very few things
which you know, you are not to evince by word,
smile or interchange of look, that you notice or
know of his defects. Anticipate his wishes, and
relieve him of the burden of you as much as
possible. Take care of your own trunks and of
his, (if he will allow you to do so) under his di
rection. Whatever opinions he may advance,
you are not to object to them; much less are
you to debate them with him. These rules
should be observed in your intercourse with
your elders generally, more especially are they
to be observed in your intercourse with a bene
factor.
In the course of your travels, you will sooner
or later be thrown in company with every va
riety of character ; the grave, the scientific, the
facetious, the ignorant, the profane, the vile. —
Be not forward in obtruding yourselves upon
the notice of either class. A modest and diffi
dent approach to men of rank and learning, you
may make, with propriety and improvement;
but take care to let them always lead in the con
versation ; and as soon as they turn their atten
tion from you to another, cease to bo talkers, and
become listeners. Let others entertain the wit,
not you. To the ignorant, be charitable, not
rude. Ignorance is no crime. Show no coun
tenance to the vulgar and the profane. Ido not
say that it is your province to rebuke them ; but
it is your duty to yourselves to exhibit no signs
of approbation to anythiug that falls from the
lips of such characters. And do not suppose
that you will gain credit for purity of heart, by
simply abstaining from vulgarity of lip your
selves. Let me see how you receive it from the
lips of others, and I will tell you exactly how
far you differ from them in moral character. —
Does it absorb your attention ? Does it excite
a smile ? Does it raise no blush upon your
cheek ? Does it receive from you an impulsive
hint ?—You are no better at heart than the re
tailer of it. The only difference between you is,
that you are a little more prudent than he is, in
your choice of times and places of relieving
your hearts from this moral feculence.
Do not allow yourselves to contract the habit
of profane swearing. Aside from its sinfulness,
if should be eschewed by every man who de
sires to become fascinating in conversation, or
renowned in elocution. I never saw the very
profane swearer, who was a very eloquent extern -
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1859.
poraneous speaker. The ] 3ason is plain:'such j
an one, always accustomed to filling his senten
ces with oaths, cannot com sand the appropriate
terras to supply their place when they are re
jected. *
When you enter college, rou will be present
ed with a eopv of its laws; read them attentive- I
ly and resolve to obey ther i. Indeed, you will
be required to sign a vritten pledge to so.
A word upon this pledge. It is called the
matriculation pledge, an I imports the for
mal admission of the sti: lent into the Insti
tution. Ilow it comes to pkss I know not, but
so it is, that not one in twenty students regard
this solemnly recorded vpw as of any force
whatever. A large majority do not violate it —
at loast in any important particulars—but wheth
er their conformity to it is from respect to it, or
a proper sense of its obligations, is very question
able. It is certain, that in the four years in
which I was in college, I Sever heard it adver
ted to as a ground of obedience to tho rules of
the Institution. One day, a very grave, pious
student said to a rather wiki one, in my presence,
‘How does it happen that so many students
treat the matriculation pledge as a nullity?’
* ‘ Oh,’ said the other, ‘ when I took tho pledge
I understood it to mean that I would keep tho
law, or endure the penalty’ (!) I see you all
smile at this stupendous discovery in moral
philosophy, and well you may. If every official
oath, and every private promise were to be in
terpreted in this way, no government could last
a year, and every ligament that binds man to
man would be severed in less time. Officers
might do as they please, and ‘endure the pen
alty 1’ Husbands might forsake their wives, and
wives their husbands, and ‘endure the penalty!’
I might desert you here, and take your funds to
myself and ‘ endure the penalty !’ Mr. Beach
may desert you in Savannah or New York and
‘endure the penalty!’ But I forget myself—
you see the absurdity of this doctrine as plainly
as I do. If you mean to disregard your matri
culation pledge, tell me so now, that I may save
you from the sin of taking it. If you mean to
keep it, all further counsels from mo would seem
unnecessary. Not so, however : nine-tenths of
those who take it, mean at the time to keep it;
but from temptation, want of caution, or some
other cause, they violate it; and then they
think one violation as bad as a thousand, and
become desperate, cr quiet their consciences with
some such miserable appliance as that to which
wo have just adverted. Now this is all wrong.
One%>reach of duty can never justify another;
and there is almost as wide a difference between
a deliberate fault, and one committed under se
vere temptation, as there is between innocence
and guilt. If therefore, you should be betrayed
into a breach of your pledge, do not consider
yourselves as released from it, but as instruct
ively admonished to guard with quickened vigi
lance against the associations or train of events
that led you into it.
But, my young friends,there is a condition at
tached to that pledge—an implied one, to be
sure, but none the less obligatory on that ac
count —which Professors are apt to forget; but
students, never: It is, that the members of the
Faculty discharge their duties faithfully to the
students. And here is the prolific source of
many difficulties in Colleges. One duty of the
Faculty students always see very clearly; and
that is, that every member of the Faculty is
bound to treat them with tenderness, courtesy
and respect, and this duty they not only exact
with unreasonable rigor, but treat a breach of
it in the most unreasonable manner that human
ingenuity could devise. They hold the Profes
sor bound to this duty, no matter how they may
treat him. This is bad enough, but their mode
of dealing with the offending Professor is ten
thousand times worse. The injured party, in
stead of mildly and calmly laying his grievances
before the Professor, and asking an explanation
of him, which in ninety-nine cases out of a hun
dred would produce a reconciliation, spreads
his grievances through the College. His class,
(perhaps two or three classes.) espouse his cause,
visit the Professor with every species of insult
and indignity, set all the laws of the Institution
at defiance, rage like the Bacchantes of old, get
themselves expelled by the dozen and suspended
by the score, and then come to order.
There was but one row of this kind while I
was in College; and though I really sympathised
with the student whose wrongs produced it, I
took no part in it, because I could not see what
good end was to be accomplished by it. And
had I not seen such things with my own eyes, I
could not have believed it possible that any
human being out of Bedlam, could act in this
way. I was blamed for my neutrality while
tho uproar was in progress, but never after
wards. Now,should either of you feel yourselves
aggrieved by any thing said or done by any
member of the Faculty, after allowing cooling
time for yourself and him, go to him and lay the
grounds of your complaint before him privately
and temperately. If he does not give you sat
isfaction, appeal in like manner to the Faculty.
If they give you no redress, appeal to the Trus
tees ; and if they give yon no redress, appeal to
me, and, if your cause'be just, I will procure for
you an honorable dismission, and remove you
from the College. Thia course will be much
more creditable and|profitable to you, than to tax
the friendship of your fellow-students with your
vindication, when it is impossible that they can
gain anything by it, and certain that they will
lose incalculably. All this upon the supposition
that you are actually maltreated by a Professor
without any fault on your part —a case which
hardly ever occurs. Take care that you do not
construe the duty of a Professor into a fault.
The laws will show you what he is bound to
do; and all that he does in obedience to the laws,
do you submit to without murmurs or complaint.
It is no ground of objection to him that other
Piofessors are more remiss in the discharge of
their duties .than he is. The comparison be
tween him and them will be altogether in their
favor while you are in College, but altogether in
his when you come out of it, especially if you
ever become the Trustee of a College.
The greatest danger to which you will be
exposed, is from the shocking system of ethics
which prevails in Colleges. It is admitted on
all hands, that a student should not become u
voluntary informer against his fellow-students.
But even to this rule there ought to be some ex
ceptions ; .and the exceptions should cover all
cases where the information is given from a
principle of benevolence to the students them
selves, and there is no other means of securing
the end in view but by information lodged with
authorities of the College, or of the State. A
student, for instance, knows of a contemplated
duel between two of his fellow-students; he
uses his best exertions to stop it, but fails; is he
to be branded with the infamy of a common in
former, because lie puts the Faculty in posses- 1
sion of the fact ? Surely not. A fortiori, where
the intended crime would produce irreparable
injury to a person, and subject the student him
self to the pain of death, as murder, arson, trea
son, and the like. True, none of these crimes
but the first mentioned (the duel,) are likely
ever to occur in a College; but should they
occur, it is very doubtful whether the informer
would find any quarter among his college com
panions.”
But let us come to a case very likely to occur.
It is a rule in some Colleges, (in most of them
I believe,) that if a student is charged with an
offence, and another is called on to testify in his
case, and refuse, he shall be dismissed. Evert'
student who enters the College .pledges himself
to keep this law: and yet, in the judgment of
seven-tenths of the students, it is basely dishon
orable to testify, if his testimony would prove
the guilt of the accused! The culprit himself
has not the magnanimity to confess his guilt,
and save his innocent friends from punishment,
but, shielded by this miserable abortion of Col
lege comity, he avoids detection, sees them
disgraced, driven off and roboed of man’s rich
est boon, (a liberal education,) while he quietly
retains bis place, and ultimately pockets his
Parchment! And yet, black, rotten and fuetid
as he is, some of the unimplicated congratulate
him on his escape,and many of them hold fellow
hipjwith him, not only without nausea, but with
an agreeable relish I! The dirty lump of hu
manity should be turned over to the scavenger,
by the unanimous verdict of the College, and
pitched into the remotest sewer from it. Now
this case has actually happened, and it may
happen again while you are in College. If so,
and you are cognizant of the offence, (not a par
ticipant in it,) and summoned as a witness
against an offender, go to him and tell him to
confess his fault, or you will become a witness
against him. If thus forewarned he refuses to
confess, testify against him. His friendship is
not worth having, nor is the friendship of a le
gion of students who would cut your acquain
tance for so doing. I know it is hard to bear
the derision and contempt of your College com
panions; but bear that, or even martyrdom, rath
er than forfeit your word, incur disgrace, be
driven from the walks of science, and have your
fairest prospects blighted, to favor a villain.
That students should suffer themselves to be
punished, in order to conceal the guilt of an
offender too vile to own his guilt—that a rule
should obtain among them, which makes ijt better
to be a culprit, than a witness, safer to sin than
to see it, more honorable to profit by magnanimi
ty than to practice it, and more graceful in the
malefactor to divide his responsibilities among
his friends than to bear them himself—is mar
velous indeed. But the wonders of College
ethics do not stop here. Another principle o *
the school is, that no member of the frate mt y
is to exculpate himself from a crime cqj*®*tted
by one of his fellows; because, forso'*". l * all
who are innocent, avow their the
guilty one must be discovered if M "be a man of
truth! By the law of all Coll«£f> I behove, if
a student stands mute when t Jestioned as to Ins
participation in an offence. A® * 8 to be regarded
as the perpetrator of it, a*® to bo visited accord
ingly. Students, innocent students, stand mute
and endure the penalty! They virtually ac
knowledge a fault, A’ which they are not guilty.
Who is to be benefited by their self-sacrifice, they
know not—or *nay not know! It hether any
crime at all has been committed by a fellow
student thq/' do not know, and do not enquire!
Whether the consequences which they appre
hend will follow from their exonerating them
selves, they cannot know! Their course of con-
I Two Dollars Per Annum, I
I Always In Advance. |
duct will save the offender, or it will not. If it
save him, he escapes and they are punished; if
it do not save him, they share his fate without
doing him any service! Why this is monstrousl
Young men, you are not to forfeit the inestimable
blessings of a liberal education, for any such re
finements as these. You are not to encourage
the idea that you are evil-doers, when you are
not I You are not to lacerate your parents' feel
ings, to conciliate the blind votaries of a prepos
terous dogma! I know that you must have a
will of iron and nerves of steel, to withstand the
sneers, the jibes, the taunts, the scorn of your
college compeers. You can have no idea of their
potency until they begin to threaten yon. Why
are such conservation agencies, abused to the
encouragement of vice and the terror of Virtue I
How has it come to pass, that wrong receives
more favor in schools and colleges than any
where else ? How happens it, that every code
of morals, human and divine, is reversed in these
Institutions ? It is amazing, it is unaccountable I
But, my young friends, there is majesty and *
power in virtue, if she will assume her preroga
tives, which will command respect and awe"
down opposition, even in colleges. Put your
selves under her guardianship, and with head
erect and heart unawed, boldly meet the champ
ions of vice, and you are certain of victory, and
of victory’s richest spoils: a quiet conscience,
approving teachers, rejoicing parents, mental cul
ture, public favor and lasting honor. Stand to
gether as one man in the maintenance of right,
be led by neither to espouse the wrong. Culti
vate the friendship of the orderly, the pious, tlie
studious, the intellectual. Hare no fellowship
with the idle, the dissipated, the boisterous, the
prodigal. Treat them politely, but distantly.—
These are the characters who breed all the mis
chiefs in college. From such as these must have
sprung up those moral monstrosities of which I
have been speaking. The best code of morals
for them is, of course, that which indulges vice
and repudiates virtue. Take care of them ; the .
Faculty will judge you by the company you keep;
and if you would avoid the trying dilemmas of
which I have Bpoken, keep away from the vi
cious and the lawless. These are the ones who "
are arraigned for outbreaks, and their compan
ions are the witnesses if not the accomplices.—
Let cards alone ; let intoxicating liquors alone I
If you disregard everything else that I have
told you, burn these seven words into your mem
mory: ‘ let cards alone; let intoxicating liquors
alone /’ Let your recreation hours, and only your
recreation hours, be spent mainly in female so
ciety ; preferring the pious and intellectual, to
the light and volatile. Write home often, and
when temptations assail you, think of home.—
Do not get in the way of neglecting your college
duties ; remissness is the first step to degrada
tion. Xqu all have your Bibles ; read them
often —if not from a better motive, read them for
your mothers’ sakes. And now, bow with me in
prayer to God, that He incline your hearts to
keep these precepts, and His <rwn, which are far
better, conduct you safely to your destination,
preserve you, and bless you, during your sojourn
at the seat of Science; and return yoa to us, en
dowed with its riohest treasures I”
The prayer was offered up, and the following
morning Mr. Markham bade his young friends a
tearful farewell, saw them on their way to Sa
vannah, and then turned his steps homeward.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—»l I Mi
Despising Ridicule. —l know of no principle
which is of more importance to fix in the mind
of young people, than that of the most de
termined resistance to the encroachme*ts of
ridicule. Give up to the world, and to ‘he ridi
cule with which the world enforce* its domin
ion, every trifling question of runner and ap
pearance ; it is to toss courage and firmness to
the winds, to combat iv° n Buc h subjects as
these. But learn from * e earliest days to in
sure your principle* egsiust the perils of ridi
cule ; you can nr more exercise your reason if
you live in thr constant dread of laughter, than
you can cuoy life if you are in the constant
dread of death. If you think it right to differ
from t w times, and to take a stand for any valu
ator point of morals, do it, however rustic, how
p,er antiquated, however pedantic it may ap
pear ; do it, not for insolence, but seriously and
grandly, as a man who wore the soul of his own
bosom’ and did not wait until it was breathed
into him by the breath of fashion. Let men call
you mean, if you know you are just; hypocrit
ical, if you are honestly religious; pusillani
mous, if you feel you are firm; resistance soon
converts unprincipled wit into sincere respect;
no aftertime can tear from you those feelings
which every man carries with him who has
made a noble and successful exertion in a vir
tuous cause.— Sidney Smith,
i 111 ■■
There have been more applications for admis
sion to Yale College this year than before since -
the foundation of the Institution, about 190
having been examined. Os these 154 have been
admitted, and others are under conditions to be
made up in a short time. The class will proba
bly number about 110. v
NO. 22.