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VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
SONGS FOB THE SEASON.
Woodlands, Jan. 2,1560.
My Dear Me. Editor :
I send you two Songs for the Season, meant to incul
cate faith and hope, old morals in old maxims, and new
mnsic, for the benefit of that million who, at the close of
each epoch, are naturally inclined to mourn over defeat
ed expectations They are simple, and though not ex
actly impromptu, are yet so very nearly such that I should
not strain conscience a tithe in so declaring them. Os
course they are unambitious performances The texts
are—l. “Better Luck Another Year.” 2. “Patience,
and Shuffle the Cards” It is for you to decide whether
they shall be warbled in your JteUl, or at your firtnide.
Be the smiles of a new dawn upon you and yours at the
opening of the season!
Yours truly,
W. Gilmore Simms.
i.
“Better Luck Another Year.”
Oh! never sink 'neath Fortune’s frown.
But brave her with a shout of cheer,
And'front her fairly, face her down—
She’s only stern to those who fear!
Here’s ‘better luck another year!’
Another year!
Aye—‘better kick another year!’
We’ll have her smile, instead of frown,
A thousand smiles for every tear,
With home made glad, with goodly cheer,
And ‘ better luck another year'—
Another year! another year!
IL
The damsel Fortune still denies,
The plea that yet delights her ear;
'Tis but onr manhood that she tries;
She's coy to those who doubt and fear!’
She'll grant the suit another year!
Another year!
Here’s—“better luck another year!”
She now denies the golden prize,
But spite of frown and scorn and sneer.
Be firm, and we shall win and wear.
With home made glad and gaodly cheer,
In ‘better luck another year!’
Another year! another year!
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
FROM A TOURIST’S QUIVER;
OR,
Scenes and Incidents of a Tour
From New Orleans to New York.
BY ON* or TUE PARTY,
ARROW—No. m.
Steamer Eclipse, Nov., 1859.
My Dear Editor:
My last epistle left me standing upon the
“hurricane” deck of the superb steamer on
which I had taken passage for Memphis, and
surveying the incomparable commercial scene
presented to the eye by the Levee. The cres
cent, or half-moon front of the city affords an
admirable centre of observation, mid-way be
tween the “horns ” from which a spectator can
take in the whole inward bending front at a
glance. Such a centre I found myself in on the
deck of the Eclipse which lay nearly mid-way
between the two curving extremities of the
city. The commercial side of New York can
only be seen in fragments; but here the tout en
semble is presented half encircling the beholder.
Imagine a wharf a thousand feet wide extend
ing along the whole face of the city, unbroken
by a dock, a continuous course for a league long.
Rehold a hundred streets pouring out their
freighted drays, their vehicles, and their human
throngs like a hundred rivers debouching into a
sea. Behold the faijades of a countless range of
lofty stores lining this league-long pier on ono
side, and on the other a chain of ships ranged
three deep and extending a mile, linked to a
chain of smaller vessels extending half a mile;
which connect also with a chain of barges, keel
boats and flat-boats for another half mile; while
these unite with another and more imposing
chain of snow-white, latticed steamers for an
other half mile, with sea-steamships and other
huge ocean-going craft ending this league-long
fringo! Behold all these visible at a glance,
surrounding the spectator! Add to this scene
the broad tawny tide of the river, dotted with
small boats of fishers, and of orange and fruit
sellers, crossed by dark-canvassed coasters, and
with Cuban three-masted luggers, fragrant with
fruit piled on deck, crowded with black, saucy
devil-me-care looking tug-boats dragging and
puffing along with great argosies, laden with
cotton, in tow; while stately ships with canvass
all wooing the light wind are ascending qjowly
to their piers after a voyage from the old world
hither I or up-river steamers all white and frail
as pasteboard, dash along with towering battle
ments of cotton-bales ten tier high, sinking their
guards to the water’s edge! Amid all, through
all, and in all, listen to the clangor of countless
bells, the lion-like roar of escape pipes, the dash
ing of paddles, the “ thunder of captains, and
the shouting,” the chorus song of the African
laborer mingling with the heave-yo-y io of the
I JANIES GARDNER, I
1 Proprietor. (
AUGUSTA. GA., SATURDAY, JANUARY 28, 1860.
sailor, and you will obtain a faint idea of one
feature of this remarkable commercial scene, or
rather spectacle.
But turn your attentiou to the Levee itself,
upon which, from the hundred streets on one
side, and the five hundred ships, steamers and
craft on the other, the wealth of all seas and all
lands is poured out. Ilereou the bright-sided
Yankee clipper discharges her freight of north
ern manufacture, her lumber, granite and the
produce of tho thousand factories which rear
their tall column-like chimnics in every valley
of New England I Many in number, and fair to
look upon for model and grace, are these ships
of the far North. Side by side with them, are
vessels from Carolina laden with rice; ships
from Savannah and Mobile, all, both North
and South ships, flying the same flag—the
stars and stripes of the Republic—at their mast
heads ! Are they not all of one people ? Ships
of one nation these, and therefore sail they
under the same brave and glorious colors which
all the nations of earth respect and all kings do
homage to! And, forever, while the world lasts,
let that bright banner wave above the decks of
the ships of Maine and of Alabama, pledge and
sign of union and of one nationality!
Upon the levee, the stout British ship,clumsily
built for bulk, discharges her boxes and bales of
home fabrics: the squarely-framed Swedish
craft; the high-pooped Dutchman from Bremen;
the black-sided, iron-laden Russian; the gaily
painted, silk-freighted French barque; the
gloomy Spanish brigantine; the graceful Greek
brig; the picturesque Maltese laden
with figs and raisins; the awkward Austrian mer
chantman ; the light Cuban goleta; the Mexican
“long, low, black schooner,"one and all, unlade
and pile their rich cargoes upon the levee!
Near by these, tho fleet of two thousand
Cat-boats, laden with corn, wheat, hay, whiskey,
iheep, horses, cattle, lumber, and whatsoever
else the North-west produces, pour forth their
treasures till acres of the vast wharf are piled
and covered with them. A hundred steamers,
also, discharge their rich freights, and scarce
find room to place them! Then, ten thousand
merchants send to this mighty pier the goods of
thousands of purchasers to be shipped. Thus,
for miles, this vast plateau is heaped and crowd
ed with goods, while a million of hales of cot
ton, and huge tierces of sugar, lie waiting ship
ment or storage. Behold this wilderness of
wealth thus displayed before the eye, and then
observe the life circulating through it! Not
ono less than twenty thousand men are visible
at a single view 1 all in motion, moving in all di
rections rapidly through the interstices between
the ramparts of freight, leaping and running
and climbing over them! See every vessel and
steamer busy with its crews lading and unla
diDgl See everybody active and hurrying, as.if
this were the last day of Earth, and to-morrow
“Time was to be no longer.” Add a thousand
drays, empty or full,driven by vociferous negroes
in all directions, along and across, up and down
in and out the levee; horsemen galloping this
way and that at full speed, like couriers across
a battle-field, and hacks and private carriages
rattling down, filled with passengers for tho de
parting ships or steamers, and listen to the roar
of wheels and voices in one grand, confused,
sublime sound —the great anthem of commerce
—and you may form a proper picture of the
scene I beheld from tho deck cf tho steamer.
While I was still gazing, the last bell tolled
the signal for tho steamer's departure. I walk
ed forward to witness her disengagement from
the pier. The crowd to see her off and say
adieu to friends was immense, as is always the
case at the sailing'"of a first-class packet. The
last box was on board, the last plank but one
drawn in, the last passenger supposed to be on
board, and the shore-men were standing by the
wharf-posts at the hawsers to release them at
the word, the paddles were slowly trying them
selves by forward and backward half revolu
tions, the pilot was at the wheel, (the only cer
tain sign that a Mississippi steamer is actually
going to start,) and the captain was about to
wave his hand to the mate to give the last order
‘to castoff all fastenings,’ when, lifting my eyes.
I saw a cabriolet come dashing at perfectly reck
less speed along the only available passago-way
afforded by the crowded state of the levee. In
an instant it drew up, the Jehu leaped off, and
Major Bedotte jumped out and ran towards the
steamer, waving his hat, and shouting at the top
of his sonorous voice:
“ Stop her I Hold on, captain! Don't leave me.
My baggage and neffy is aboard I”
His bald, shining head, round and smooth as
a well distended bladder, his flushed angry
face, his superhuman exertions to make his way
through the crowd of blue-shirted Irish and
loungers, drew all eyes upon him with merri
ment ; for people always like to see “ a man
left.” Nothing is more agreeable in the world,
byway of sensation, than for passengers in the
train to see a passenger in full chase after itl ,A
melancholy spectacle to a man of benovolence,
who, though he pity, hath a secret smile in his
ey “ Let go all 1 'Spring on board, you lubbers 1
Plank haul all!” were the rapid onlers shouted
by the hoarse-throated mate; for it is a weet cud
.or a mate to help a belated passenger be left.
By good chance the captain stood near me,
signalling to the man at the wheel with his
hand, gently and almost imperceptibly moving
it; for on these fine aristocratic packets the
voice of the master is never heard. It is vulgar
to hollar now. Once, in the noisiest and most
conspicuous person on a Mississippi steamer ono
was sure to find the captain; but now he is the
quietest and least observed. He simply tele
graphs his orders with his fingers.
I saw that my remote relative, Captain Be
dott, would without doubt lie left, as no notice
was taken of his increasingly extravagant out
cries, as he struggled to get to the receding
plank.
“Captain,” I said quietly, “that gcntleiuau is
going to New York with me. You will do an
act of kindness to take him in, as bis baggage is
here.”
The captain glanced at me, signalled to the
steersman, then bent over the verge of the
roof, so that he could look down on the hurri
cane deck, and said in a conversational tone:
“Mr. Blunt, shove the plznk ashore for the
passenger."
The next moment the Major was balancing
himself gingerly along the wet hoard, as if
afraid of toppling into the water or into a bum
boat of bananas and oranges along side. Scarce
ly had he safely reached the end of the plank,
ere it was hauled from under his feet and he
came aboard on the run, nearly knocking the
breath out of a negro who unfortunately stood
in the path of his headlong catear.
“Gorrah massy, niassa, yon come for moa’
kill dis nigger dat time I” ejaculated the African
helot. “Please, old master, gib nigger dime to
cure de misery.”
“Old! Call me old, you confounded black
scoundrel 1” retorted the Major, with ireful looks;
for he was full sore at being laughed at by the
crowd. H« then made his way up the winding
stairs to the upper or cabin deck, wiping his
brow with his red silk kerchief with yeilow
flowers, while the ponderous wheels, obeying
the impulse of the giant arms of the engine,
backed the majestic vessel out into the stream,
amid the parting shouts and hurrahs of tho
many-voiced multitude on the pier.
“I think, sir,” said the captain politely, as 1
thanked him, “your corpulent friend will not
voluntarily be late a second time.”
The scene around was now each moment
changing. The steamer having gained the
middle of the stream, came handsomely round
to her course head-up river and began to ascend
with momently increasing ty ’ll. Our course
was, at first, due south. We raer- Ito be steer
ing straight for the Gulf. The salting sun was
on our right or starboard quarter The reason
of this is, that the Mississippi, about six miles
before it gets down to New Orleans, f jmmences
forming a great bond eastward, which flexes
more and more northerly every mile, until by
this steady turning towards the east and north
a three quarter arc or curve like an oxbow is
made by it, and the voyager reaches New Or
leans, actually coming in from the south. Thus
New Orleans, though on the east shore, faces
the rising sun. This peculiar situation within
the hollow of 'this northward bend has per
plexed many a stranger, who is puzzled to
see the sun rise in the west, seemingly, and
set in the east.
It was a grand sight, the city, as we steamed
past its houses, stores, ships and steamers, mile
after mile. It was like a triumph. Every deck
had a gazing group, which cheered us. Our ne
gro firemen set up a wild choral song with a loud
refrain, in which gangs of slaves working on
the ships or pier mingled their voices. The sun
set ere we had got to the termination of the city
and shipping; hut its red reflection long lighted
up the lofty tower of the cathedral, the last object
on which our eyes lingered as the city and its
kindling street lamps faded in the distance.
The chill air now warned me to descend to the
illuminated salons. But I was already better 1
The sight of the busy world had quickened my
pulse, and made me feel more alive, and lifef
more real!
The first person I laid eyes upon on entering
the splendid cabins, was Major Bodott. He
was now quite calm. He no sooner beheld me
than he ran and caught me by both hands.
“ Bless my soul, here You are! I have been
looking everywhere for you. Began to fear you
had fallen overboard, my dear fellow 1 Did you
see me? I came within a jack-knife of being
left. Just saved my bacon by a fraction! Near
ly finished a blackey by butting him down!
Saved my head, though, from being split in two
or three by a post! If I had hit that nigger’s
head it would have killed me; fortunately it
was his belly. lam so glad to find you 1 Never
was so near being left. What is your number ?
Mine and neffy’s is 44. Haven’t seen him, have
you ? I left him on board to go back to get a
traveling map, and buy me a stuffed cotton cap
to sleep in the cars, and that is why I got down
so late! Well, all is right now, thanks to the
gods! Fine boat! Plenty passengers! Splendid
ladies! Have a nice royal time if we don’t blow
up! Engineer’s family on board, so I think we
are safe on that score. Oh, here is Nessy 1"
As he spoke a young man, or rather a vene
rable looking vouth wiUi whity yellow hair, a
face expressive of good nature and simplicity,
and with a form thin and tall, (of the lath style,)
approached, with an awkward movement of the
linvbs, but with plenty of self-confidence.
“My neffy, sir! Tim, this is Mr. Poyns.”
“How are ye, Poyns?" said the young gen
tleman, extending a hand covered with a neat
kid glove, color light blue, which was the hue,
also, of his wide-bowed cravat, and of his gilt
figured vost. He was imexceptionably dressed,
so far as expense Went, and every one of the
links to the massive gold chain which hung
from his fob, he afterwards told me was wrought
out of a five dollar gold piece. “ How is your
health, I’oyns ! Uncle, the Major, says you
are a skkish man! Sorry for you 1 Never was
sick a day I Take a cigar—real plantations!”
“ My neffy is a ponderous smoker. Mr. Poyns,”
said the Major, with evident pride; and he
whispered in my ear, “ Can afford it! Will be
worth two hundred thousand (two and five cy
phers) when he comes of age 1 Bless us! There
is supper!" Au revoir.
ARROW—No. IV.
Steamer Eclipse, )
November, 1859. )
There is no more agreeable way of life for a
“ single gentleman,” with nothing to do but
s'amuser, and try to put Time hors de combat,
than to travel on one of the floating palaces
which traverse the mighty Mississippi! The
space and elegarice of the accommodations; the
perfect independence of action; the cultivated
people which one Is always sure to find on
board; the faultless table d'hote; the excitement
of constant motion and progress onward; the
scene on the banks each moment changing: all
these go to render a few days sojourn on one of
these magnificent hotels afloat, full of interest
and novelty.
We have on board not less than two hundred
passengers, a large number at this season of the
year, when few people go north Among them
are some very’ charming ladies, young and mar
ried, returning with their families to their
estates after a few days in the city. Among
the interesting strangers, is a rich Creole fam
ily, consisting of the grandfather, three sons
in-law aud daughters, and not less than a dozen
handsome, dark-eyed grandchildren. The ab
sence of all consciousness of observation, com
bined with a naive naturalness of manner, is, I
think, a characteristic of our best Louisiana pop
ulation. Now, at supper last night, this whole
family, not less than eighteen in all, occupied
one table, which the steward, at their request,
had made up by rolling together three of the
smaller tables ; for we eat now-a-days, yon |
know, at “social” tables, half a dozen around j
each, instead of the old rope-walk fashion of [
taking meals. This prandial improvement is ‘
one of the most marked signs of our national
progress in the amenities of life.
Now, this French (Creole) family gave them
selves as wholly up to their supper, as if they
had been at home. The children had their own
servants to wait on them, these first having put
their "piunafores” on the smaller fry. It was
delightful to see with what perfect unconscious
ness “of being looked at” the whole family en
joyed their meal. The fine old gentleman was
genially merry, and his children talked and
laughed right joyously, and conversation was as
unrestrained as if they were at home. It was
a charming family pnrty —a household trans
ferred unbroken to the cabin of the steamer,
and retaining all its bonhommie.
How different this ease and naturalness from
the manners of Americans generally! We are
too much afraid of being noticed and observed.
We aro altogether too conscious of others’ pres
ence. We aflfe foolishly constrained and un
natural in the presence of strangers. W« trem
ble lest we should compromise ou»« Ive9 ; lest
we should be laughed at. uiink “ more
highly of ourselves than wo dught to think.”
We Americans get stiff a>** very unsocial ways
thereby. We almost fee* displeased if a stranger
asks us to pass the *dt, he not duly introduced.
We talk sotto voee and in a constrained under
tone, as if we were discussing a conspiracy. If
people seem to listen, we look vexed and are
annoyed. But all this is different with our
French Creoles. They have no secrets. They
talk ait naturel and like to draw their neighbors
at the table into the conversation. They speak
to you as if they had dined often with you be
fore. Their politeness is so finished, so good
hearted, that it is impossible they should offend
any but a cynic or a parvenu, who. never talks
to a body “ without an introduction.” .
Major Bedott, my remote kinsman, his
and a grave clerical man in black, and tnyself
occupied one of the little round tables, not far
from tho ladies’ cabin, which the Major called
“ the enchanted ground.” The whole scene at
supper was very imposing. Imagine the im
mense length of the cabins, their splendor of ar
chitectural finish, wherewith gold and plate
glass vied with the cunning of the carver in
wood and the gorgeous tints of the artist’s pen
cil. The elegance of the table arrangements
could not be surpassed. The neat waiters were
drilled to the glance of the eye. Imagine scores
of glittering tables set out over this vast hall,
at each seated a group of passengers, while the
I Two Dollars Per Annnm, I
| Always In Advance. |
buzz of conversation .was heard on all sides,
miugled from time to time with merry laughter
from our Creole table en famiUe. With all, the
noble vessel was pressing onward and upward
the vast river, trembling with life and strength
beneath our feet, for we could feel every beat of
her mighty pulse. As I let my eyes traverse
the great length of the cabin and beheld these
numerous table groups, all illumined by the
splendor of magnificent chandeliers, I thought,
“ How quickly can all this be changed 1 The
fate of all this life, .this intellect, strength and
beauty hero congregated, is in the hand of one
man, the engineer! who is unknown to every
ouo of us! never been seen by one of us!
Down in hia iron aud fiery empire below he
reigns arbiter of our fate! Suppose he should
become suddenly mad, and in the wild phrenzy
of a crazed brain, say: ‘ I will blow all these peo
ple into eternity!’ Or if any part of the ma
chinery gives way, or the boilers should be
pressed beyond their strength !—what a scene
would follow! How in on instant would all this
fair spectacle be changed!”
“My dear fellow, you don’t eat !’* cried the
Major, who Was swallowing with a voracity
which I, an invalid, could not but admire, if I
did not envy. “Splendid living! superb 1 Don’t
wonder at the gentleman who traveled up and
down on this boat so often without going on
shore at either port, that the captain and clerks
began to suspect he was a pickpocket, who had
resolved to take up a permanent abode where
there was always-such good company. Upon
baing questioned, he frankly told the captain
tliat ‘he was a bachelor, (poor fellow 1) and it
mattered little with him where he boarded, and
as he found hia boat so much more comfortable
than his hotel, and saw always such a variety
of company, with constant change of scene and
good table, he had resolved to pass the season
traveling up and down, provided the captain had
no objections.’ Sensible man, that 1 Nessy, don’t
put your knife in your mouth.” This was said
in an under lone, with a look of pious rebuke
at the criminal. “It’s vulgar! Eat with your
fork. A knife is made to cut with, not to go in
to the mouth."
The young gentleman colored, laid down his
knife and proceeded to uge his fork in a vain ef
fort to carry to his mouth some blackberry jam.
Finally, watching the Major and his chance, he
caught it up on the sly in his teaspoon and,
winking drolly at me, he devoured it with great
gusto. The cabin was warm, and as he sat near
the stove, ho was flushed and proceeded to fan
himself by taking his broad brim white liat out
from under his chair and making use of it for
that purpose, which act was no sooner seen by
the Major than he turned to him with a blush of
mingled indignation and grief:
“Tim, put down that Barritaria hat Don’t
think you are out in the lire oak swamp. Tou
must remember you are among civilized people
and must play the flue gentleman. You must
excuse him, Mr. Poyns, but he has seen but
little of the world, as you see at a glance."
“The fact is, Poyns,” answered the young
man, seeing I was regarding him, “ uncle here
thinks I havn’t a fool’s sense, because I’ve been
raised down about Barritaria and never saw a
city till last week when I came to Orleans. But
because a man is born tn the country and doesn’t
know city manners, it is no reason he shouldn’t
have good sense. Every thing is strange to me,
I must say, and I dare say I gape and act like
a fool; but I don’t mean to disgrace uncle here,
if I can help it,” he added, smiling archly, “and
if any body else don’t like ray ways, let ’em tell
me so, that's - all.”
H* said this with a look of defiant bravery,
that showed very plainly that he would not be
imposed upon, unsophisticated as he was. With
all his gaucherie, there was a spirit in him that
pleased me and led me at least to feel a certain
respect for him.
After supper, while the Major and I were
smoking on “ the guard” upon which the door
of his state room opened, he said, musingly:
“As for Tim, he has sense enough. He is my
sister’s only son. She had a place down by the
<7ulf left her and married one of the commission
ers of the government live oak forests, a Yan
kee who made his fortune there by planting su
gar and speculating in lands. He gave his son
no hook learning till he got to be twelve years
old, saying he meant first to make ‘ a good ani
mal’ of him, and then he would learn fast enough
when put to study. So Tim had the range of
the forests and of the bay, and they say he is a
Nimrod of a hunter and can kill a humble bee on
the wing with a pistol, and do all sorts of in
credible feats of shooting with bis rifle. Igno
rant and verdant as he seems, he has in him
more than one would guess. He is as good a
boatman as hunter, for he lived on the lake, and
to his credit I must say that he once saved from
a wreck five persons at the risk of his life, and
when that terrible Last Island calamity occur
red, when two hundred people were swept away,
hotel and all, be rescued two children and a lady
and took them to his own house. He is not to
be despised, awkward as he looks,” added the
Major, with a sort of prideful shake of his
head, as ho knocked the ashes from his cigar.
“ Yon have interested me in him greatly,” I
said. “ Why does he go North to study medi-
NO. 36.