Newspaper Page Text
Southern Field and Fireside.
VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
GOOD-BYE FOB ANNIE LEE. .
I Good-bye, fair Annie —thou art sad
That wo are parting now,
t I mark and prize the kindly gloom, -
That clouds thy bright young brow.
Thou'lt keep—it promises— tbou'lt keep
For me some little spot
Within thy heart, to write a name
1 would not have fiygot
1 Tet well I know how brief a while
That transient cloud will stay,
How soon bright smiles will from thy brow
, Chase the light cloud away.
A, day—a day or two, perhaps—
Thou’lt feel I am not here:
A day or two, my aoice may aeem
Sometimes to greet thine ear.
A book—a flower—a song I’ve loved,
A few abort week« may be,
Enough to keep my name above
Oblivion''s wavelet* tea.
Tet, well I ween, ere the first note
Os summer bird is heard,
Thy “lips" will long have ceased to ‘••peak’’
“ That” now *• familiar word."
Still, gentle Annie, ere I go,*
My parting wishes hear—
Forever be thy fato as bright
As thou art good and fair !
For'theeeach day come crowned with joys,
. Jutt noi “ too bright to last,” -
And never be an angry clunJ
Athwart thy pathway cast
Kavisswood. H.
—■—-
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
i Entered according to the Actof Congress, dr., &c.,
by the Author.
1 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN;
OR,
r A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS,
WHO WAS KUINF.D BY BAD LUCK.
BY TUB AUTIIOK OF THE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC.
CHAPTER XII —COXTXUED.
. With all his expenditures he had taken care
to reserve money enough, as he supposed, to
spend a few days in Morristown, a week in New
ark, and a week in New York, without exhaus
ting his funds. At the commencement of his
sixth week of the vacation, he set out for Mor
ristown. Here lived a class-mate of his, who
insisted upon his spending a week with him. —
Mitten consented. A round of parties ensued,
, all of which he attended, and at all of which he
played havoc with the hearts of the girls of Mor
ristown. From his classmate the report soon
spread through the village, that he was the first
scholar in his class, and immensely rich. These
things couspiring with his fine person, graceful
manners, and agreeable conversation, made him
absolutely irresistible. Now there happened to
be in Morristown at this time, a young lady from
South Carolina, of the Bethlehem School, who
■ was spending her vacation with a relative of the
village, or rather making Morristown her head
quarters for the vacation. Her name was Lou
isa Green, she was behind Miss Ward in noth
ing, and one hundred thousand dollars ahead of
her in point of fortune. Miss Green and Mr.
Mitten being both from the South, naturally
formed a strong partiality for each other; of course
it did not amount to love on William's part, but
■ it amounted to love palpably, on Louisa’s part.
As she was from the south, William felt himself
’ bound to pay her particular attentions. Accor
dingly he did all that ho could to make her time
pass agreably during his stay in Morristown. —
He could but observe the tokens of her favor,
and they awakened in him a tender compassion.
She had appointed to visit a school-mate in
Elizabethtown, five days after the time when he
1 was to leave for Newark. He offered to wait
and accompany her. This threw him five days
longer on his friend’s hospitality, than ho con
tracted for, but he was welcome. Sfie ac
cepted his offer thankfully. They went—he
was Introduced' to her young friend, who pre
vailed ugpn him to spend two or three days in
Elizabethan. He consented—parties com
menced on tv e second day after his arrival, and
were kept up v»[th but short intervals for nine
days. ThescenCW Morristown were renew
ed. He had set evWday for the last six, for
leaving Elizabethtow\but something or other
always delayed his cSnarture. The school
mates of Elizabethtown pained a visit to a third,
in New York, fora few dayV As this jumped
with William’s plans exactly,Nmd promised to
make his visit to New York infinite-
I ly beyond his anticipations, he pronged to ac
company the young ladies. They aa*mted his
proposition with pleasure. It required three
v days to prepare the young ladies for tlieitron
templated trip, and these embraced the ope nig
of the college term. Time had run off so merri.
I JAMES GARDNER, i
Proprietor. j
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1859.
ly that he had not kept count of it, and he was
thunderstruck when a question put to him
about the college, reminded him that the term
opened on the day before ho was to leave with
his fair companions for New York. What was
he to do ? Violate his pledge to the young la-'
dies? That would never do.
He determined to conduct them to New York,
and hasten on to College. When he came to
settle up his bills in Elizabethtown, he was thun
derstruck again; they were four times as large
as he anticipated, and in counting up his cash,
he found that he had barely enough left to take
him to New York, and back to Princeton. The
ladies were delayed a day beyond the appointed
time by some accident. Mr. Mitten was in tor
ments. It was certain that his funds would
give oiit before he reached Princeton; and here
in a land of strangers, what was he to do ? In
this emergency, itbad just occurred to him that
ho had been very remiss in not paying his re
spects to Mr. Beach, and he concluded to spend
a part of the spare day with this kind friend.—
Mr. Beach hardly knew him when he presented
himself at his door, so changed was lie in every
thing. After a visit of an hour, “ Mr. Beach ”
said William, “I have been out spending the
vacation, and my expenses have been so much
heavier than I expected, that I have got out of
money; could you favor me so far as to loan me
thirty dollars, and I will give you au order on
Mr. Sanders for the amount, or I will send it to
you as soon as I get back to college.” “Certain
ly, William,’’ said Mr. Beach, “I will Jake the
order, and if yofi pay it when you get to college,
I will send it to you." The money was loaned,
and William returned to Elizabethtown rejoi
cing. On their way to New York he suggested
to Miss Green that the college term had opened
and that on the day after their arrival in New
York, ho would be compelled to return to col
lege. She expressed her regrets that they must
part, probablv never to meet again, but hoped
that they would>enew their acquaintance, after
their return home. William proposed a friendly
correspondence ad interim. She said she could
could not promise that, as the pupils of her
school were forbidden to correspond with young
gentlemen; but if he choso to write to her she
had no objections. On their arrival in New
York, the news greeted them, ,s thaton the even
ing of the next day two of the greatest tragedi
ans of the age were to appear in the principal
parts of Shakspeare’s Othello. William had
never seen a play acted by professed performers
and “as he had overstayed his time any how,
and one day more could not make much differ
ence” he determined to prolong his visit that
far, and take the ladies to the theatre. He pro
cured tickets for the three young ladies, but as
tho father of the one whom the oftiers were vis
iting, choose to accompany them all to the thea
tre. and furnish tickets himself William had
two on hand either to use or throw away at his
option. He was transported with the perfor
mance. Hamlet was announced for the next
niglrt; but as the ladies declined going to the
theatre two nights in succession, he went alone.
Macbeth was announced for the next night; and
as all the girls must see this play, they went as
before; William accompanying. The day follow
ing he left for Princeton, and reached there with
just seventy-five cents in his pocket.
His classmate of Morristown ( Johnson by
name) brought down- his history to his depar
ture from that village. “He went off” said
Johnson, after a beautiful accomplished South
Carolina heiress, worth a cool hundred thousand
in cash, with kinky-heads according; and he has
only .to streeh out his hand to her and she’ll
sijatcli at it; for every body sees that she is over
head and ears in love with him, as indeed all
the girls in Morristown are; for Bill is death
among the pullets. 1 ’ This repdtt mitigated the
anxiety of his Georgian companions concerning
him, but did not entirely relieve them; for they
feared the consequences of William’s change of
habits, not only upon his stand in College, but
upon his future life.
, We have said that he had four competitors
for the first honor, but there was only one of
them that he had cause to dread, for though
the five were equal in mathematics, there was
but one who approached him in the other stud
ies. This one was Taliaferro (pronounced Toliver)
of Virginia. When at the opening of the term,
the class appeared to recite in mathematics, and
Taliaferro found Mitten absent, his countenance
kindled with delight. His delight increased
with every recitation in this study, until it came
to Alio fifth. Ashe retired from this he said tri
umphantly, “ I’ve got him safe—l’ve got the
brilliant young Georgian justas the owl had the
hen, so that he can neither back nor squall.—
With his head full of girls and fortune, if ever he
keeps up with the class, and makes up five lost
lessons, he is a smarter man than I think he is,
and I think ho is the smartest fcever saw.” —
Taliaferro thus spoke because he well knew
that a lost recitation in mathematics is almost
as fatal to farther progress in the science, as the
loss of one of the nine digits would be to enu
meration. And yet if William had determined
to do it, lie could have made up his deficiencies
hefore'the end of the Junior year, and thrown
Taliaferro far in his rear in the Senior year.—
Why ho did not, we shall see. When called to
account for his absences be said “he was neces
sarily detained."
Haring followed Mitten's movements during
the vacation, let us now tlnvcil some of his
thoughts and reflections accompanying these
movements. “Here it is now,” mused lie on
the fifth day ofhisacqUaintance with Miss Green.
“If Amanda had not made me promise to keep
our engagement secret, I could now tell Louisa
of it, and let her understand’ the true ground of
my attentions to her; but as it is, I must either
be distant to her, which would be unpardonable
in me as she is from the South; or I must en
courage her attachment which is plainly visible
and growing. Amanda will hear of ray atten
tions through Johnson, and suppose I am after
Louisa’s fortune. No, dear girl, fortune shall
never make me sacrifice my word and my hon
or.” *
On the seventh day: “It was very indiscreet
in Amanda to exact that promise from me, 1
don’t know how to act under it.”
Ninth day: “Hang that silly promise! I’ll
keep it, but I fear r shall never feel towards
Amanda as I should have felt if she had not ex
torted it from me. I was tod hasty in making it
—in fact I was two hasty in the whole matter.
Well, whatever may come of it, I shall not forego
duty to a Southern friend, far from home, be
cause I happen to be engaged.”
On the day he visited Mr.-Beaeli: “Whitt a
botheration it is to want rqoney!«—l doubt whe
ther Amanda will ever be satisfied to live in
Georgia. I wish she waanot quite so romantic.
It was very imprudent, in Jyr to speak of her
father and mother as she mb to me—l don't be
lieve one can love truly but once; I believe I
could love Louisa just as ardently as I love her,
if I would allow myself to do so.”
On the day he left New York: “One hun
dred thousand dollars 1 I wish I had fifty of it
now. What a sum it is 1 Kfiough to last a man’s
life time, and satisfy every desire of his heart—
One hundred thousand dolfers, and a beautiful
intelligent lovely Southern girl to boot! Aman
da ought to adore mo for rtsisiting such a temp
tation for her sake.”
On reaching Princeton, ke went immediately
to see Amanda and found her in deep distress.
She said “ she had been meditating suicide, but
she could not leave the world without wne more
last, longing, lingering look upon her William.”
Upon his assuring her. however, that he was
not engaged to Miss Green, that he had not pro
posed himself to her, and that he would have
informed her of his engagement, if he had not
been forbidden to do so, Miss Amanda was
greatly comforted, insomuch that she concluded
to postpone the suicide to a more suitable sea
son. She entertained him with a melting narra
tive of her soliloquies and tears over breastpins,
lockets, and the like, which, as it came just at
the time when he was terribly pinched for mon
ey, produced a double sympathy —or rather an
oscillating sympathy, which played so equally
between himself and Miss Amanda, that she
could not understand it, and took it for coldness.
They parted, however, with renewed profes
sions of love.
Markham, Thompson and Brown, had togeth
er paid a short visit to Philadelphia, Trenton and
Monmouth, early in the vacation and returned
to PrinCeton. On their return, Brown enclosed
a fifty dollar bill* in a letter to Mr. Markham,
saying: “I have saved this much out of my al
lowance without stinting myself in the least. —
If yon think it would not be wrong to appro
priate it to my mother’s necessities, please deal
it out to her as she needs. Apply all of it but
what is absolutely necessary to keep my mother
above want, to the schooling of my two little
sisters. But if you think that I have no right
to use the money in this way, please return it to
the kind gentlemen who raised it for me; and.
tell themlhat it is more than I need, and I think
in justice it ought to bo returned to them.” We
need hardly say that this letter made John’s pat
rons feel much more like doubling than reducing
their contributions to him.
From New York, William had written a letter
to his mother, setting forth that he had greatly
miscalculated, in saying that five hundred dol
lars per annum would be amply sufficient to pay
his College expenses. Traveling expenses, he
said, far exceeded his expectations —that he had
set out from Princeton on a vacation ramble,
with money enough in hand, he thought, to pay
his expenses three times over, and after visiting
only three places, he was in New York with
hardly enough to pay his reckoning, and get
him back to Princeton; and there his board and
tuition would have to be paid in advance. He
concluded by begging her to send on two hun
dred dollars as speedily as possible. Here was
the very place for him to have informed his mo
ther that he had borrowed money from Mr.
Beach, and to have informed Mr. Sanders through
her, how he came to draw on him. But he knew
that it would mortify his mother exceedingly, to
learn that he was repaying Mr. Beach’s kindness
by taxing his purse : and he intended to stop
the draft from going ttf the drawee, by payment
•At this time Jersey bank bill* were just »s current in
Georgia ss gold and silver.
The first one dollar Mil that ever was seen in Georgia
was irorn a Jersey bank.
of it. Brown’s letter had a fortnight or more
the start of William’s, and its contents were
known to every body in the village in three days
after it had reached Mr. Markham. When Wil
liam’s letter therefore reached home, it alarmed
and distressed his mother exceedingly. She j
gathered the money as soon as she possibly could, j
(borrowing a part of it) aud dispatched it to Wil- |
' liam, with a letter eloquently expressive of her |
feelings. “ How is it, my dear boy,” said she, I
“that John Brown, with his limited resources, j
can visit Philadelphia, Trenton and Monmouth, j
and yet send hither fifty dollars out of his in
come, to assist his poor mother, and school his
little sisters ; and you cannot visit as many pla
ces without exhausting your funds and requir
ing two hundred dollars over?” The whole let
ter would fill every reader's eyes with, tears ;
but we have not time aud space for it here. By
the shortest possible course of mail, William \
could not receive an answer to his letter in less !
than a month from its date. In the meantime he |
must be shut out of Coilege, if he could not raise j
the tuition fees at least His only recourse was j
to borrow. He went to his cousin David, who j
loaned him fifteen dollars, all “ he had over,” as |
the merchants say. He went to Markham, and
he loaned him twenty, saying “ this is all I have,
but go to Brown, I know he has over fifty dol
lars, for we compared notes when we got back
to College.” He went to Brown and asked the
loan of fifteen dollars. “ William,” said Brown,
“ I would loan it to you with a great deal of
pleasure, but I have it not—here are three dol
lars, all I’ve got, which you are welcome to, if it
will be of any service to you.” William looked
on him furiously, and said—“ Brown, if I don’t
raiso fifteen dollars, I can't get back into Coi
lege. and I know you have that much, and
three times that much.” “ William, I give you
my word and honor I have but three dollars in
the world. How can you suppose that I would
not loan it to you if I had it ? If there’s any
thing I have, by sale of which you can raise the
amount, go take it and sell it, with all my heart
It
William wheeled off in a rage, and hastened
to Thompson and Markham, saying “ Who could
believe it possible, that John Brown would see
me shut out of college, rather than loan me fi£
teen dollars 1 He says he has but three dollars
in the world ” “John Brown says so!”
exclaimed the two. “ Come," said Thompson,
“let’s go and bring him face to face.”
Away they went, and Brown seeing them
coming turned pale as a sheet. “ Look at
his countenance,” whispered William. “John
Brown,” said Thompson, “ did you tell cousin
William that you hadn’t fifteen dollars in the
world ?” ' |
J 1 Yes, and I told him the truth ”
“ Didn’t you tell George Markham and myself
that you brought back from your travels money
enough to pay tuition and board, and leave you
over' fifty dollars in hand ?”
“Yes I did; but I have disposed of fifty dol
lars of it."
“ How did you dispose of it ?”
“ I do not wish to tell, but in away that all of
you would approve of if I were to tell you—ln
deed, I do not know myself as yet, how it went
tt *
“ Did you ever hear such chat," said William,
“ from any body but an idiot since you were
born 1 Disposed of .it as we all would approve,
and does’nt know himself how he disposed ot
it!” - -■
The boys wheeled off indignantly.
“ Stop, boys,” said Brown, with streaming
eyes, “ and I will explain ”
“ AVe want no explanations, sir,” said AVil
liam. “ Dig a mole out of the dirt and stick
him on a steeple, and he’ll be a mole still.”
No pen can describe John’s agony. He saw
himself deserted by the sous of his benefactors
—he knew that they all believed that he had lied,
and he knew that before the morrow’s sun, it
would be trumpeted all through the College that
the bright Mitten was kept from his class by his
meanness. In the midst of his horrors, the bell
summoned him toreeitation. The class was ar
ranged alphabetically, and his name was the
first on the list. The Professor called on him ;
he rose, tried to suppress his but
could not; and he resumed his seat, his bosom
heaving, and his eyes streaming as though his
heart would break. The class stood aghast, and
the Professor looked sad ; for Brown had not
been remiss in a single College duty. Keen as
was his anguish, it would have been aggravated
heavily, but for George Markham’s prudence.
“ Boys,” said he, “ it isn’t worth while to
spread this thing through the College ; at least
let us wait awhile before we do it. Remember
that he is a Georgian, has been our intimate
friend, and it will be flung up to us upon all oc
casions. And after all, I never knew John
Brown to tell a lie in my life, and he may be en
abled to explain the matter.”
After some debate they agreed to keep the mat
ter to themselves. That very day John received
tidings of his father’s death, and as no body
thought of enquiring as to the precise time when
he received the intelligence, it was regarded by
the class as the cause of his emotion in the reci
tation room, and by his three friends as an addi- 1
— 3^
j Two Dollar* Per Annum, I
| Always In Advance. |
tional inducement to deal tenderly wi£>yv,j m
Thompson borrowed the fifteen dcliars ffvwji.
liam, and he joined his class.
Thus stood matters when Mrs. Mitten’s lettb.
was received. As soon as William read it, lies,
hastened to Thompson and Markham's room \
with it, handed it to liis cousin, flung himself
; into a seat, dropped his forehead, hands-covered
,on his knees, and wept bitterly. Thompson
read it, and passed it in sobs to Markham. He
was not so much affected, and spoke first :
"The Lord be praised that we kept our no
tions of John’s conduct from the college. Why
this, and our coldness, and his father’s death all
coming upon him at once, would have killed the
poor fellow. He’s almost heart-broken, any
how. What a warning is this to us against acting
hastily in such matters 1 Let us send for him,
and relieve both him and ourselves immediate
ly." He was sent for, and as soon as he enter
ed the room, they all rushed to him and em
braced him together. “Oh, John,” continued
Markham, “we know what you did with your
fifty dollars, and we aro all ashamed of our
selves.”
“John,” said William, “I beg your pardon ten
thousand times—”
“And L”
“And I.”
"John,” said William, “how-could you say,
you didn't know as yet how your money went?”
“ Because T didn’t know that it would bo right
in me to take money raised for my education,
and apply it to the use of my mother and sisters;
so I sent it to Mr. Markham and told him, if he
thought I had no right to use it in this way, to
return it to the gentlemen who raised it for me,
and I don't know which woj- it went even now;
for Mr. Markham said nothing to me about it in
the letter reporting my father’s death.”
“John,” continued William, “I never shall
forgive myself for my treatment of you. I had
some apology for suspecting you of insincerity,
but I had none for that vile, unfeeling, brutal re
mark of mine—”
“ What remark, William ?”
“ About the mole. ”
“ I didn't hear that.”
“You didn’t! Thank heaven, that you did not,
but it’s none fho less mean on that account."
William paid the sums borrowed and his
board; and now the merchants, tailors, shoe
makers and jewelers began to press him. They
always press at the opening and close of terms,
becauso students are then commonly full hand
ed ; but they had other reasons for pressing.in
this instance. The balance of his two hundred
dollars, save fifteen reserved, went in less than
a fortnight, without paying more than fifty cents
on the dollar of his debts. Youth-like, he
thought more of the annoyances of creditors
than of their respective claims upon his honor,
and Mr. Beach was postponed to the raoßt ra
venous.* Some of these, all of whom understand
well the art of milking students, said “that they
were not in the habit of crediting students, but
that every body represented Mr. Mitten as such
a brilliant, high-minded, rich and honorable
young man, that they would have trusted him
for half their goods.” Others said, “that rely
ing certainly upon payment at this time, they
had contracted debts on the faith of it, and if
disappointed, they did not know what was to
become of them.” Another said, “If Mr. Mit
ten couldn’t pay him all, he would be veiy glad
to get half the amount due, to keep his wife and
children from suffering.” Thus they went on
with every variety of experiment upon his feel
ings, until he began to think that his own char
acter, the character of the South, and all Prince
ton, were likely to sink together in one common
grave of indiscriminate ruin. Most of Mr. Mitten’s
debts had been contracted within the past three
months, and many of the students, well posted in
such matters, testified with becoming indigna
tion, that such a thing was unheard of in the
history of Princeton, as dunning students for
debts but three months old; and two or three
proposed, in vindication of the time-honored
usages of the place, to stone the windows of the
importunate creditors; but Mr. Mitteri, partly
from the lights of Mr. Markham’s counsels, and '/
partly from his own good sense, opposed all /.
violent measures, as he could not see how
could sustain his credit or cancel his deKs. /
But there were two specialties, which
the creditors: the one was, that Mr. Miwenha'.l
promised to pay them at the opening trtm,
and the other was, that Miss Ajj/“fi a > either
from love of truth, or the truth p/«ve, had cor
rected the popular opinion of/**- Mittens vast
wealth, and represented hii/yP O, J “ 1S own au *
thority, as not only not ygv nc *** but very poor.
The torments of credit/® abated considerably
the rapture with wb/ Mr- Mitten was wont to
view the ornament/ 6 *" Miss Ward s person, in
terfered with hia/udies, and set his thoughts
to running no/ filthy lucre. He commenced
his friendlvytrespondence with Mias txrecu.—
His first k«cr was exceedingly mendly. He
waited tie proper time for an answer, but re
ceivedAone. He wrote another, still more
friei/ji but received no answer. He wrote
an/her in the very agony of friendship. To this
the following answer;
“ All your letters have been received. They
tam given ilia Principal ottto School great an
.- ; • J
F\ NO. 24, J