Newspaper Page Text
Original.
[Communicated for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
DABTHULA’S ANSWER TO JABL EGILL'S *
WOOING.
Proud Egill, think not that
Thou wooest a maid,
Whose dazzled eyes shrink from
The sheen of thy blade;
Think not that my cheek doth
In terror wax pale.
At sight of a warrior
Armed in mail.
And if my heart swelletli,
It is not in fear,
But for pride that a sea-king
As suitor bends here.
And know, haughty wooer,
Though deeming it pride,
Darthula is worthy
To stand by thy side.
The daughter of Einar,
Brave son of the brave,
Is a right fitting mate
For the Lord of the wave,
I hear the skalds* harping
The deeds of our dead,
And bold must he be who
Their daughter would wed.
The rocks of our island
Rise steep on the shore,
The surf dashes on them
With deafening roar;
I've sat on their summit
When storms howl'd around,
And heard, as 'twere music,
Their terrible sound.
From blaze of the lightning
My eye never shrunk,
At shock of the thunder
My heart never sunk ;
Then think not that the roll
Os thy bark I'll fear,
Or weep when the tumult
Os battle I hear;
For the lightning’s brighter
Than gleaming of glaive,
The tempest more fearful
Than shouts of the brave.
Then ho 1 for the bark that
My palace must be!
The bride of Jarl Egill
Is Queen of the Sea.
Look, where thy broad banner
Floats over the strand, —
The keel of the Raven
Is kissing the sand.
Then take thou my hand,
'Tis true to the heart,
And the faith that it pledges,
Shall never depart;
That hand shall caress thee
When deeds have been done
That deserve its caress,
After victories won.
But if thou from the fate
Os the brave should'st quail,
If in the fierce slaughter
Thy spirit should fail,
This hand, now so gentle,
Thy death-blow shall give,
For he who is conquered
No longer should livel
But shame to my doubtings!
I fling them away,
As the prow of thy vessel
The scattering spray.
As soon the great Sun shall
Forget to give light,
As the arm of Jarl Egill
Grow weak in the fight.
I know thou wilt perish
As Vikinger should.
The blows of thy bmnfl 1.1u.10
Avenging thy blood.
And when the last foeman
Is sunk in the wave,
Thy death-rites shall be
As befitteth the brave.
Thy brown bark shall bum
For thy funeral pyre,
The hand of Darthula
Shall kindle the fire;
The helm on thy cold brow,
The sword in thy hand,
Thy true wife beside thee,
Around thee thy band;
In such lordly guise
Thou wilt speed to the gate,
Os the Palace of Odin,
Whose gods thee await;
With the welcome of heroes
Shall echo the walls,
When Jarl Egill enters
Valhalla's wide halls.
Then ho! for the Raven!
She flaps her broad w ings,
And pants for th’ wild joy
The mad conflict brings.
Like the wake of the Raven
All sparkling with light,
Shall be thine, Jarl Egill!
Through thy foes, in the fight.
M. E. B.
♦These were the bards of Scandinavia.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
OUR COMMON SCHOOLS.
Mr Editor: —ln your notice of my commu
nication on the subject of common school educa
cation, you expressed a wish that more of the
data from which my conclusions were deduced,
had been given. A desire to avoid too much
length prevented it, at that time, and indisposi
tion has delayed it since, until now.
Most of my conclusions have been derived
from observation, which an intimate connec
tion with the common school system, in its prac
tical execution, from its first adoption to the
present time, has enabled mo to make. I have
been a Georgia teacher for the last forty years;
and I know the activity of teachers and other
persons interested in keeping the country schools
in operation,—all urged on by self-interest,
(one of the strongest motives to action,) in in
ducing into the schools, as many as possible, of
the poor children. lam satisfied, that a more
active influence is not likely to be used fir the
same object, under any other system. The pres
ent system is as free for that class of children,
■as any system can be. These are the grounds
of the conclusion, to which my judgment has
been brought, (to-wit,) that the general free
school system, for a long series of years, will
educate fewer, and at no stage of its advance
ment, can it educate more, of the poor children,
than the common school system ; and for that
reason has no advantage over it in this regard.
I made the assertion, in substance, that the
present common school fund is amply sufficient
to educate all the poor children that can be pre
vailed on to enter the schools. If this be true,
the general free system, evidently, can have no
advantages over the present system. Let the
following facts be duly considered: For several
years past, the common school fund has been
about thirty thousand dollars. Now with this
small sum the counties have, by adding a small
couuty tax, managed to pay the poor children’s
tuition; in many counties without any deduc
tion—in others with small, and in none very
large deductions. But if these accounts had
been reduced, in every county, to twenty-five
SORXKX&N FIELD AND XX&SSXB&.
cents on the dollar, the present school fund is
sufficient, under similar management, to pay the
whole accounts, being at present about one
hundred and thirty thousand dollars—more than
four times the former sum. But the accounts
have not been so reduced, and it follows, that
the present school fund will be large enough to
meet any increase in the number of poor child
ren, likely to be induced to enter the schools.
If these be facts, (and I think their truth will
not be questioned,) they establish the other con
clusion, that the general free system has no ad
vantages over this common school system.
In my former communication, I gave the re
sult of a calculation in regard to the amount of
money which would be required, under the gen
eral free school system, to furnish as many
schools as we have at present, under the com
mon school system. That calculation proceeded
upon the supposition, that all the expenditures
for building and furnishing houses, teachers'
wages and incidentals would be furnished from
the profits arising from an invested fund. But
as the expenditures for building would not be
an expense recurring annually, it may be more
proper to pay for the school buildings by a di
rect appropriation, and invest a fund, only large
enough to pay teachers’ wages, repairs, Ac. I
assume as the basis of the calculation, one
hundred and fifty counties in Georgia—some
what over the present actual number, but less
than the number will be, long before the system
.can be perfected. I think the building and fur
nishing of school houses, suitable for State in
stitutions, can scarcely cost less than one thou
sand dollars each, and that ten per cent on this
sum will be required, annually, for repairs and
incidentals, (wood, Ac.) I suppose the present
number of schools in the State large enough, to
give an average of ten schools to each county;
and that five hundred dollars each, for eight
country teachers, and twelve hundred each, for
two village or city teachers with assistants,
(male and female,) will be as small a sum as can
procure competent services. Ido not pretend
to say that these assumptions are absolutely cor
rect, but I do honestly believe them to be below
the reality. Let us see to what results they
lead. The number of school houses will be one
thousand five hundred, and their cost one
million and a half. This is the amount of the
direct appropriation.
Teachers’ wages, for one county, six thousand
four hundred dollars, with ten per cent on
cost of building for repairs, wood, Ac., makes
seven thousand four hundred dollars annual
ly, for eacli county. This sum multiplied by the
assumed number of counties, (150,) gives, five
hundred and ten thousand dollars. This sum
must be paid annually. And to yield it, a fund
yielding four per cent net profits, must be in
vested, of twelve millions seven hundred and
fifty thousand dollars. This sura, with the di
rect appropriation of one million and a half for
building, is the price we must pay for a system,
which can educate no more of our poor child
ren, than our common system is doing, with the
annual expenditure of about one hundred and
thirty thousand dollars, arising from a fund al
ready invested and yielding its returns of
profits.
Should any one think the above calculation
too high, let him remember the fact, that the
actual cost of great public works have gener
ally far exceeded the highest estimate. I be
lieve the estimate far within the bounds of so
ber reason. If, then, these things be so, why—
I ask emphatically, why should a change be
made?
In this estimate, you perceive, nothing has
been said of the nay of disbursing or contract
ing agents—of the salaries cf public officers,
nor of the thousand and one holes, through
which a dime occassionally finds its way into
the pockets of hangers on, who never fail to
muster in swarms around public institutions in
volving so large an amount of money. When
all these things are duly considered, the above
estimate can not be extravagant.
J. C. P.
——
EDMUND BACON.
We extract from advance sheets kindly fur
nished us by the publishers, from the forth
coming work, of Judge O’Neall, “The Bench
and Bar of South Carolina, ’* the following
sketch of Edmund Bacon, Esq. We have
thought that all our readers would be glad to see
upon record in the columns of the Field and
Fireside, this sketch of one of the most accom
plished men of this and our sister State, the
original of that memorable and graphic sketch
of character, Ned Brace, of the “Georgia
Scenes.”
“Edmund Bacon was born in Augusta, Georgia,
on the 17th of April, A. D. 1776. He was of a
Virginia family, his father having removed from
that State to Georgia, before the Revolutionary
struggle. His education was judiciously com
menced and wisely directed. At an early age
he was placed in one of the best schools of Geor
gia, and afterwards, at the first academy in the
city of Augusta, with positive orders and in
structions from his guardian—(Mr. Bacon had
been early left an orphan)—that he should be
schooled after the severest manner. His pre
ference for, and progress in, the dead languages,
soon became apparent in obtaining the
prize for the best translation of the “Ars Poet
ica.” Indeed, so devoted was he to the pursuit
of the ancient classics as to have exhibited an
utter repugnance to the idea of choosing a pro
fession. General Glascock, brother-in-law and
guardian of Mr. Bacon, who was, naturally, in
clined to the same pursuits, encouraged his ward
in this regard. The difference, however, be
tween the guardian and ward, as Mr. Bacon af
terwards said, was, that the one being a gentle
man of great wealth and literary tastes, could
afford to indulge his inclinations, while the lat
ter, not so fortunate in his inheritance, could
only hope to do so. Circumstances did for Mr.
Bacon, however, that which, perhaps, neither he
nor General Glascock would have agreed upon.
About this time, it was announced that General
Washington would pass through Augusta, and
the city collected “ her beauty and chivalry ” to
welcome and fete him. Among other ceremo
nies, Mr. Bacon was chosen by the academy, of
which he was a member, to receive the hero in
an appropriate manner. This delicate and hon
orable task was accomplished, in an address so
fortunate as to have attracted, not only the at
tention of that great man, but to have procured
from him, for the orator, a present of several law
books. Mr. Bacon had already entertained the
idea of choosing the law as his profession, but
this present decided at once his future calling.
•The Bench and Bar or Sovtii Carolina—Contain
ing Biographical Sketches of Chief Justices. Law
Judges, Chancellors, Recorders, Attorney Generals, U.
8 District Attorneys, Solicitors. Members of the Bar, to
which is added. The Original “Fee Bill of 1791,” with
Signatures in sac simile attached, complete Uollsof State
and Federal Judges and Attorneys, and the “ Rolls of
Attorneys” admitted to practice from 1772 to 1859, from
the records at Columbia and Charleston. 2 vols., S vo.,
clo., 500 pp., each *&00. corRTENAT Publishers,
No. 9 Broad Street, Charleston, S. C.
Though still very young, he resolved, with the
consent of his guardian, to enter the celebrated
law school at Litchfield, where he applied him
self with great assiduity, and was graduated
with fuH honors. On his return, Mr. Bacon set
tled in Savannah, with a view to the practice of
liis profession. He succeeded eminently at the
Bar of that city, and before the Circuit Courts of
Georgia. His health, however, began to fail,
and he was advised to seek another and higher
climate. This advice he had already made ar
rangements to follow, when he was urgently so
licited to assist in the settlemeut and manage
ment of the estate of the celebrated General
Greene. The labor consequent upon his accept
ing this offer, was exceedingly onerous, and the
dispatch and application with which the business
was effected, left him in a state of health still
more impaired, but fortunately, with sufficient
means to enable him to retire from his profes
sion. With this view, he purchased a planta
tion in Beech Island, on Savannah River, where
he hoped to renew his health and cultivate his
taste for the classics and belles lettres. He soon
awoke, however, from this pleasant dream, to
find his house destroyed by fire, his farming in
terests entirely neglected, and his overseer the
‘ only gainer.”
* * * *
With returning health, came returning spirits.
Mr. Bacon subsequently moved to Edgefield C.
H., in South Carolina, and resumed the practice
of his profession.
“In a short time he became one of the bright
est ornaments of the Edgefield Bar. He pos
sessed the power of oratory in a high degree,
spoke ore rotundo, with grace and ease; and it
is even now traditional among the older inhab
itants of the district, that his eloquent appeals
in capital cases, seldom failed to move the Jury
to tears. It was at the festive board, and in
social, convivial intercourse, however, that Mr.
Bacon shone preeminent. On such occasions he
was, indeed, “ the star of the goodly company
and such occasions frequently offered them
selves at that time in Edgefield, particularly at
the house of Col. Edward Simkins, whose posi
tion and estate enabled him to dispense a real
hospitality, and to gratify the dictates of a true
and genuine taste. Here, as also at the house
of Mr. Bacon himself, were wont to assemble
the great names above mentioned. Even among
such spirits, Mr. Bacon was the acknowledged
autocrat of the table, insomuch that on a certain
occasion, when the famous Dr. Maxcy, of South
Carolina College, was added to the list, no
sooner had Mr. Bacon left the room, than he,
(Dr. M.,)enthusiastically exclaimed: “A perfect
Garrick, sir—a living, breathing, acting Gar
rick !” On another occasion, Judge Harper invi
ted his brother Gantt to dine with him, saying:
“ Come, we shall be five, and you shall not lack
of good cheer.” The dinner was served to three
only, Mr. Bacon making the third. Upon Judge
Gantt inquiring for the absent guests, his host
replied: “ I said we should be five—all are
here. Behold!” pointing at the same time to
Mr. Bacon. “ behold Messrs. Gantt and Harper
sitting with Jocus, Love and Comus.” Years
before this, however, the extraordinary wit and
humor of Mr. Bacon along the circuit of the
Georgia Bar, had given birth, under the magic
pen of the well-known Judge Longstreet, (now
the able and beloved President of South Caro
lina College,) in the famous “ Georgia Scenes,” to
the creation of a character rejoicing in the so
briquet of “ Ned Brace,” the original of which
conception found no equal save in the unique
ness of its action. Mr. Bacon was the original !*.
Mr. Bacon was an accurate linguist and so fa
miliar with the ancient poets and satirits, par
ticularly Juvenal ana Horace, as to be able to
finish almost any sentence one might select.
* *' * *
His knowledge of the English classics was
equally correct. It was the custom in that day
to deck the dining-table with a profusion of flow
ers, and on a certain occasion Mr. Bacon’s was
almost literally covered. One of the guests ex
pressed his surprise and admiration of the beau
tiful custom, when Mr. Bacon replied: “ Perhaps,
sir, it may be unusual with you, but ‘.I, who am
to the manner bom,’ deem it well nigh indispen
sable.” “ A most charming custom, certainly,”
replied the former, “ but one may be to the man
ner born, and yet know nothing of it; for I
think you too well acquainted with the English
terms, and with Coke and Littleton, to suppose
that Shakspeare used or intended the word
manner.” Mr. Bacon joined issue, saying that
“his honorable friend was certainly mistaken,”
and adding that “it was such a mistake as a
lawyer would be apt to make.” The question
was mooted, and as the guests were nearly all
of the legal profession, they, (with the exception
of Judge Butler, then fresh from the schools,
and just on the threshold of his future bright
and honorable career,) unhesitatingly pronounced
against Mr. Bacon. A volume of Shakspeare,
however, soon decided the correctness of the
Messrs 8., senior and junior.
* * * ,*
Mr Bacon was as remarkable for his humor,
before the populace and at the electioneering
hustings, as for his wit before the bar and at the
table. Witness the wooly steed and the va
rious pranks of Ned in the “Georgia Scenes.”—
Indeed, his proneness to the indulgence of his
humor, often led him into extremes, and on
more than one occasion endangered his person
al security’.
* * * *
Mr. Bacon died on the 2d February, A. D.
1826, aged fifty. His remaius rest in his fami
ly burial [dace in Edgefield.
The foregoing is from the pen of the talent
ed Secretary of Legation, at St. Petersburg!),
John E. Bacon, the grandson of Edmund Ba
con, Esq.
* * * *
Edward Bacon, Esq., from the facts obtained
through his grandson James, came to South Car
olina in 1809, and must, very soon afterwards,
have come to Edgefield Court House, and there
settled as a layvyer. I first sayv Mr. Bacon at
Edgefield Spring term, 1825. Judge Martin who
studied law with him at Edgefield, and whom
he assisted in his education at Litchfield, was
then his partner, and they had a large and lu
crative practice.
Mr. Bacon married Eliza Fox, at Augusta,
Georgia, 29th January, 1799. This amiable and
intelligent lady still survives, adorning old age by
her and cheerful disposition, which is a
blessing to all around her. He left at his death
tour children, John, Edmund, Sarah, (or now
Mrs. Wigtall,) and Thomas remain.
My friend, Dr. Laborde, a Professor in the
South Carolina College, says: “ Between the
years 1822 and 1825, I was a law-student, in
the office of Messrs. Simkins Sc McDuffie ; and
Mr. Bacon being there, in the practice of his
profession, it yvas my fortune to witness the
happiest efforts which he made during this pe
riod, at the Bar of Edgefield. It is not for me
to speak of the amount of his legal learning—to
compare him in this respect with others; but I
am not afraid to declare, that his language was
•See Soi-thern Field and Fireside, inure 156. col. 2.,
Sth October, 1859. Art " Who is Ned Brace t"
chaste and elegant, and his elocution of a very
high order. His natural endowments were ex
traordinary. His person was commanding, his
face and head uncommonly fine, his voice chord
ed musical, and of yvonderful power. His
style of speaking was highly fiuislied, and I think
I am justified in saying that, as a model of
graceful and eloquent elocution, the Edgefield
Bar cannot present another entitled to equal
praise. Let it not be supposed, however, that
j his merit was that of Uie mere rhetorician ; that
he won applause because of this artistic skill,
i which was exhibited, and exerted none
j of that higher influence, winch appeals to the
i heart and commands the affections. When
the occasion demanded it, no one exhibit
ed a livelier sensibility or a deeper feeling, or was
| more apt to awaken a sympathetic emotion in
| the bosoms of others.
“ I remember when quite a boy. that I was
much moved by a speech from him, in behalf of
a man who was on trial for his life. IDs whole
soul seemed melted by compassion—the tears
were flowing freely down his face, and he urged
the acquittal of the unfortuuate man, with a
natural earnestness and eloquence yvhich touch
ed every heart. His appeals to the sympathies
of the Jury, were those of a man who was
pleading for his oyvn life; and when, after
fetching most touchingly, the picture of hu
man passion and infirmity, the sad heritage of
man—he called upon every member of the Jury
to adopt for himself the sentiment of the Uni
versal Prayer :
1 Teach me to feel another's woe.
To hide the fault I see.
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.'
“ The effect was electric, and all could see that
the prisoner was soon to be restored to his fam
ily and friends. In his social character, Mr. Ba
con possessed extraordinary attractions. His
house was distinguished for hospitality ; and at
the social meetings of the gentlemen of Edge
field, none contributed more to innocent plea
sure and enjoyment. As tho presiding officer
of an old fashioned dinner party, he was with
out an equal. Abounding in story and anec
dote, dealing them out with most generous prod
igality, and in away too, which none of his co
temporaries could imitate, it is not saying too
much, perhaps, to add, that his presence alone
was almost sufficient to mitigate every woe, and
drive sorrow from every breast."
The foregoing is high, and I have no doubt,
deserved praise. My acquaintance with Mr.
Bacon was slight; yet, I have seen and heard
him in Court, and I have no hesitation in saying
that he was one of the finest declaimers to whom
I ever listened. His voice was equal to that of
Judge Gantt, which I have always believed was
never surpassed.
The following epitaph, written by Judge
Longstreet and inscribed on his tomb, is in po
etic lines—a just portraiture of Edmund Bacon,
Esq.:
“ Within this crave, wrapped In his long sleep,
Lies one whose doom a wife and mother weep.
Whose many friends with anxious sighs regret
The loss of virtues they can ne’er forget:
The loss of virtues 1 No, the human form,
Muy waste below and feed the hungry worm :
The heart that kindly felt for others’ woe ;
The voice of eloquence, wit's joyous flow
May fade away, or rest within the gloom
Os Death's doininion—this cold narrow tomb !
But the bright mind on wings of bliss shall rise,
To dwell immortal in its native skies.”
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
MUSIC AT NIGHTFALL.
Music lias with truth been styled “ the sphere
descended maid;" for its first earthly note was
StTllCk when the UDlVeirm?, froalx from tho hand
of the Creator, hymned its Maker’s praise with
its ten thousand excellent voices—when “the
morning stars sang together and all the sons of
God shouted for joy.” The echoes of that glad
evangel have never ceased; in silvery, rippling
tones they still give expression to the raptures
of human hearts, or in softer strains soothe their
hours of sadness, until, beneath the inspiring
influence, feeling is once again tinged, prism
liued, by the light from the rainbow of Hope,
and “we walk among the sun beams, as with
angels." The spell of Music owns all places
and all seasons for its magic irifluence; but at
nightfall is its witching power most prevalent
and universally acknowledged—at that hour,
which awakens all the poetry of genius and the
romance of emotion; which imparts to Nature
a most touching beauty, and gives to her tones
and a language unknown at any other hour.—
Then that spell is woven around us by the
breeze that arises out of the West, with long
solemn swell; solemn, as if it blew from the
Border Land to lull the sun-forsaken earth to
everlasting slumbers under the glowing eyes of
myriad stars. It is no wonder that ancient po
ets fancied the evening wind a chorus of de
parted spirits, who thus poured tender lamenta
tions along the-air of their native homes. Who
that has loved and lost, ever heard that sound,
unmoved by memories of the dead?
Music at nightfall is heard, too, in the roar of
falliug Hoods far off in the forest, or in the '‘so
norous flow” of rivers gliding to the sea. It is
wafted by in the warbling of those birds that
give songs in the night. Every pulsation of the
great heart of nature sends forth a thrill of
melody, every rustling leaf and waving flower
adds to the grand symphony. But perhaps even
more potent than this unwritten music is that of
audible words and harmoniously tuned strains.
It is not so unearthly in the thoughts it stirs;
it links one less with the spiritual, but it seems
more allied to our mortal sympathies.
When one sits alone in the grey, dreamy twi
light, the shadowy moonbeams stealing in wavy
lines of beauty along the floor and up the walls,
the cares of bustling day all silently banished
to some oblivious corner of the heart, just then
let an old familiar tune fall through the distance
upon the ear, and how will it strike “ the elec
tric chain wherewith we are darkly bound 1” It
may be only a snatch of some unpretending
melody, a simple lay of childhood, or one of the
quaint hymns heard in the little country church,
long ago. But its charm is not lessened by
that. At its touch the leaves of our past exist
ence unfold and are turned backward, till the
later record of tears and toil and world-weari
ness vanishes, aud once again the spirit claims
fellowship with Youth, and Hope aud Love. —
At its first sound, memory enters into the hall
of reflection and displays a panorama-like suc
cession of pictures upon its walls. Some of
them are colored, ah, how brightly, others are
of a neutral tint, others still are covered by black
clouds, and the figures which compose them
stand in spectral array.
Slowly they flit along; in imagination we
revisit the place where that tune was played,
perchance years agone. Tho friends who then
surrounded us, re-appear. We hush our breath
and listen, till every quick pulse throbs with the
mournful bliss of recollection.
Fancy hears voices, whose flute-like tones
long since died away through the shadowy val
ley—sees loving, earnest faces, whose beaming
glance was shut out from us in a cruel moment
by the touch of Death’s icy fingers. The final
echoes of music seem caught up among the
eternal stars, even to the pearly gates through
which we saw our sainted ones borne. Thus,
“ When twilight weeps 'neath the azure veil,
And the sweet flowers sigh as the day grows pale, -
Angels hover o’er ns on silver wing, H
And golden harps in their hands they bring.”
And when the nightfall of Time arrives, and
the soul prepares to render itself back to the "
God who gavo it, let music, rich and deep, blend
ing the pathos of parting love with the clear, V
firm notes of expectant faith, arise beside the
dying couch. So shall it “ greet us last on earth f
to meet us first in heaven.”
Ziola. *,
——
CHILDREN'S COLUMN.
A Cure for Discontent. —“Oh, mother,"
said little Clara, “ I get so tired eating just bread V
and butter and potatoes for my supper, and "
drinking only cold water out of this tin cup I <■
You do not know how beautiful Mr. Carrington’s
table looked to-night when I went home with i
the work. They were just taking dinner, and
asked me into the dining-room to get my money.
Everything was so bright and sparkling. The P
tea and silver and the plates of china; and little
Ellen, who is no bigger than 1 am, had a cup of v
coffee and a little silver cup for water, too. *
There were such nice things on the table—fresh J
fish and chicken, and everything so good! Don’t
you wish we were rich people, too, mother?" &
“ My little girl must be careful to keep ‘ Giant
Discontent' uut of her heart, if she would be
happy. We must be contented to live in the P
sphere in which God has placed us, for He
knows a great deal better than we do what is v
best for us. If you had been with me this mor
ning, Clara, and had seen what I did, you would
feel more thankful for yc*ir good, wholesome
supper of fresh bread and mashed potatoes.” i
“ Where did you go, mother? Down to see <
poor Margaret again?”
“Yes, my dear, and found her worse than pi
ever. She cannot go out washing any more,
and her two little children were almost starving. v
All they had to eat yesterday were some tutnip %
parings Johnny gathered from the street.”
“ Oh, mother, how dreadful 1” said little Clara, r
her eyes filling with tears. “ I wish I could h
take my supper to them.”
“ They are well provided for now. A kind
gentleman, for whom I have been sewing, has p
sent them provisions enough to last several
weeks. You should have seen how the poor v
woman's eye lighted up with joy at the gift, and 1
how eagerly she supped the bowl of warm
gruel I made for her. f
“ When we ore tempted to fret, Clara, and i
envy those who are better off than we, it will
be a great help to remember how many are in a
great deal worse condition. You have read the p
sweet little story about the * Shepherd of Salis
bury Plain.' You know his little daughter felt
* so sorry for those people who had no salt to eat f
on their potatoes,' while they had ‘a dish quite
full of it’ p
“ Cultivate the same spirit, my little girl, and A
it will make even a dry crust taste sweeter than*
many a rich man’s dainties.”— S. S. Banner.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
ENIGMA, NO. V. v
I am composed of thirty letters—thus:
My 8, 7,6—is the Supreme Kulerof the Universe.
4, 5,11, 27—is in the sky. “
“4, 6, 12—is a “ transgression of the Divine Law.” .
“2, 8,6, 7—is destruction. jf
“ 27, 9, 25—is recommended, by Solomon, for Juve- \
niies.
“ 14,11, 7, 8,11, 21, 9, 28—is a New Holland animal.
“ 24,27, 26,12 —is an insessorial bird. P
“ 28, 26. 16,27—is a quadru(>ed of the genus Cervus.
“ 25. 28, B—is a quadruped of the genus Cunls, . 1
“ 8,9, n, 6 is an animal of the genus Capra. «
“ 1, 9,11,18—is a reptile or tne genus Bum. *1
“ 27,11,1 —is a mammal of the genus Mus, (
“ 4, 5,11,8 —is a male quadruped of the genus Cervus. p
“ 11, 7,l—is an inseet of the order Hymenoptcra. j,
“ 11,10,18,16, 29—is a serpent i
“ 80. 26, 24—is an evergreen tree of the genus Taxus.
“ 4,11, 7,10 —is “ fine iiarticles of silicious stone.”
“ 18,16,24 —is “ precipitated from the atmosphere.” J
“ 7,6, 1, 2,15 —is a “ white crystalline salt” "
“ 10, 8,4,1 —is “ dry particles of earth.”
“ 18,11, 24,14—is “an incision in timber.” J
“ 5,6, 7—is a white, non-elastic metal. u
“ 1,9, 4—is the coarse part of hemp. ']
“ 4,9,11, 22—is an unctuous substance. J
“ 30,11, 29,12—is “spun-work.” p
“ 29, 20,4, s—is a disease in grain. j
“ 80, 26,11, 4, I—is instrumental in raising dongh. m
“7,9, 10—is “a quick inclination of the head.” V
“ 17, 23,26 —is the author of “ The Raven” poem. ,
“ 12, 15, 27,23 —fiddled while Rome was on fire. J
“ 17,19,24,10, 16, 21—will cause an explosion. “
“ 27,16,10—is a flaming color. I
“1, 21, 15,11, 4, 9,l2—is what “Old Brown” should v“
be hung for. ®
1 “ 18, 11,12 —is an abbreviation. f
“ 24, 26,25 —is what unmarried men should do. I
“ 14, 12, 6,1 —is what girls should learn to do.
“ 22. 6,11,12, 23.-is a favorite musical instrument A
“ 4, 1,11,8,15 —is a platform. m
“ 10 6, 27,14 —is a poignard. '
“ 17,26,11, 21—is a fruit ,
“ 10. 6, 7,12,15,21 —is a noon-day repast U
“ 4,20,17, 22, 26, 29—is an evening meal. ,
“ 22, 29, 11,18,16,2—is “the Christian's vital breath.” I
“ 12, 8,1 —is something for you to crack.
“1,2, 30—is what you should do to solve this enigma. %
“ 14,15, 26,7 —is what you must be, if you succeed in
doing it A
My whole is the celebrated exhortation of Oliver Crom
well, on a memorable occasion. a
Answer next week.'
w v
E7* Answer to Enigma No. IV.: The Swiss Family J
Robinson. "
ENIGMA, NO. VI. I
I am composed of eleven letters: k.
My 10, 8,9, 7,5 —is a female name. 9]
“ 4.1,8,11, 2—is the name of a serpent J
“ 6,1, 4—is a female name. p
My whole is the name of a distinguished Agricultural >
Chemist of Georgia. ft
Answer next week. \
Charleston, S. C. Fareoot.
fcgf The Enigma of Laura, of eighteen letters, will p
hardly do. Try again. ,
Standing Rule.— Enigma* tent for publication f
m u«t be accompanied by the real name of the writers , ®
as well as the solutions. "j
“ F” will please take notica
The protest of “ Fannie ” is received. Enigma No.
IV. was, it is admitted, above the reach of “the little a
folks at home.” Care shall be taken henceforth, that v
one , at least in each paper, shall be so low down, that a
dear little girl no larger than “Fannie,” (I wish I knew p
her,) won't be obliged to jump upon papa’s shoulders, or j
even into mama's lap, to reach it She can't guess No. v
V. I know. Papa, even, will have to run to his books
to find that out But I'll just whisper “Fannie” (she
musn'tteli any of the other children, though) that she'll
find the name, the answer to No. VI., in one of the forty ft
columns of the very (taper she is reading; but I won't
tell which—now look I
Leather Money. —Every on o has heard of
“ leather medals”—the fact that leather money, J
which would be literally monnaie de cuir and «
queer money, has been issued in this country, is
not generally known. The Massachusetts colo- # c
ny, in 1729, passed a law to the effect following: >
Whereas, great inconveniences and difficulties
have arisen to the affairs and trade of this pro
vince, for want of small money; for remedy _
whereof: Be it enacted, Ac., that there be forth- '
with imprinted on parchment, the sum of five i
hundred pounds in pennies, twopences, and fc
three pences of the following figures and inscrip
tions, viz.: forty thousand and one pennies to c
be round; twenty thousand twopences, four
square; thirteen thousand three hundred and -j
thirty-three pences to be sex-angular, Ac.— Mass. M
Statutes de. 1776, folio, 299.
195