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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.