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VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
THE PAST.
BY TEMI'E.
(Inscribed to Hugh Keyes , of Old MemMm.)
I am thinking of the time, Hugh,
Before X thought to roam;
When I used to be so happy
Among my friends at home.
I am distant from them all now—
Far in another clime —
Yet, while I live, I’ll not forget
That good old pleasant time.
I am pond'ring on the past, Hugh,
When you and I, together,
Sat on the bench, with dangling feet.
At school, by one another.
I am sitting in my chair now—
My feet rest on the floor —
Yet while I live, I'll not forget
Those pleasant times of yore.
I know that yon remember, Hugh,
The ancient play-ground still; .
It was just below the school house
, That stood upon the hilL
I’m playing now the game of life
On other grounds—and yet
That old play ground and school house
I never shall forget.
Then, there’s your old home and mine, Hugh,
Whose dear old pleasant plaoes,
now thronged with treasured memories—
WlthkJadudMtUjßCfcMm ~
What though our Joys be many.
As o’er the world we roam ?
For us I know full well, Hugh,
There is no place like home!
Jonesboro', Tenn., Feb., 1860.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
FROM A TOUBfST’S QUIVER;
08,
Scenes and Incidents of a Tour
From New Qileans to New York.
BY OV* or THE PARTY.
■ A R K OW—No. VII*
The Grandeur of the Mississippi—ln what it Consists—
The Passage «?— Its interest and variety.—The Jewish
type of Countenance —Remarkable fact, that there is
no Madonnt with the Jewish features—Artist paint
ers are all strictly national in their drawings of the
human face and perwin.—“ Neffy’s’’ greenness annoys
his “ old ancle.” the Major—Nessy and the Major rivals
for the tovor of the charming widow with the black
eves.—Vicksburg— Its old duelling ground—The Pren
tiss a»d Foote duel—The Claiborne and Foote duel—
The Bowie duel and melee in 1829—Duelling no longer
a to mode at Vicksburg—The evils and absurdity of
duelling.
Steamer Eclipse, above Vicksburg, t
November, 1859. f
Still ascending the Father of Waters! The
majesty and might of this great and noble river
fill the sous with sublime emotions. The spec
tacle of this stream, seen from any me point of
view, is not imposing. Many a lake a mile wide
and a few leagues long, can compare in dignity
with any equal portion of the Mississippi. It is
not to the eye, therefore, but to the imagination,
aided by memory, that this extraordinary river
becomes invested with sublimity. It is neces
sary, in gazing upon its turbid flow, to reflect
that, for a thousand leagues, this same torrent
rolls along its resistless course —that it receives
into its bosom vast rivers with scarcely percep
tible increase!—that it flows through a dozen
independent States, or is their boundary !■—that
it winds in enormous coils amid vast regions of
fertility unexampled!—that while, for a thousand
miles, it sweeps past cultivated savannas and
reflects cities and towns upon its broad bosom,
for another thousand it washes banks dark with
primeval forests, the echoes of which yet are
awakened by the war-whoop ! —that it moves
southward from the icy north, where it takes
its rise under the arcs of every climate!—that
while icicles hang above its fountain-head, oran
ges are pendant from their leafy branches near
its mouth!—that after traversing the whole of
the temperate zone, it heaves forth its amazing
volume of water under the tropics! In the lan
guage of another “ the centurial forest, the fairy
islet, the hoar and castellated crag, the silent
and illimitable prairie, the mysterious sepulchral
mounds of ancient and extinct races—these are
the features of the mighty stream I”
All these thoughts must come to the aid of
the observer, and impress his imagination, be
fore its real sublimity can be apprehended by
him!”
I know of no voyage so interesting and full
of incident and variety, as this up ths Mississip
pi! - The pleasant state room, opening upon the
guard, and giving a prospect of the shorss, or
into the cabin enabling you to witness the Use
and-gaiety going on therein; the agreeable co
teries of which one soon becomes a member;
(and what acquaintances so agreeable as our
*Ebeattm. —“year Notches" should have been printed
instead of New Notches , In the Ist column, page 289, of
the Field and Fireside, as the position from which
“ Arrow V,” from our “Tourist’s Quiver" was discharged.
1 JAMES GARDNER, I
I Proprietor. f
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1860.
impromptu steam-boat ones?) the constantly
varying scenery by day ; the meeting and pass
ing of boats; the frequent landing at towns
and estates; the constant coming on board of
new faces and going of old ones; the flaming
beacop fires on the shore at night, marking the
wood-yards; the wooding itself by the glare of
torches, in iron baskets, one of the most pictur
esque scenes in the world 1 All these contrib
ute to pass the time pleasantly. Besides, the
certainty of being three or four or five days on
board, gives a feeling of repose and domestic
quiet. One unpacks his trunk and reads and
writes letters, and feels at home.
It is pleasant too, to speculate upon the char
acters and pursuits of those on board 1 Vo have
as passengers, several Isaraelites; short, square
. backed men, with hooked noses, full, oriental
lips and almond-shaped eyes! They pace the
cabin and talk of dollars! How peculiar !Stheir
physiognomy! All the world|over it is the same!
There is no mistaking one of these children of
Israel! I asked myself, “If Abraham, Moses,
and David had such Jewish features ?" With
out doubt! What as the peculiarity ? Is it not
a purely Asiatic-oriental cast of face!
This reminds me of several of the most fa
mous Madonnas I have met with. In no case
was the “ Blessed Mother ” given the Jeivish
face! The Italian's pencil gives her a Floren
tine countenance; the German’s, a Saion as
pect; the Englishman’s, the features of an En
glish maiden ; the French artist gives her a pure
Parasian head; and so on! I should like to see
a Madonna from the pencil of a Jewish'painter!
One thing la certain, he would have the phjai
ognoray national and truthful t '
How odd it is that artists unconsciously be
tray their country in the/aces of their pictures!
This peculiarity seems irresistible and intuitive.
Look at an illustrated London book! All the
visages are all John Bull —men, women and
children. Examine a New York artist's sketch
of a crowd! They are all American faces I and
so of a Frenchman’s and German’s. Even if an
English artist wishes to portray an American
mob, all the faces are unmistakeable cockney ;
and I question if an American artist could give
a London mob with English faces. They would
all be variations of brother Jonathan. When a
Chinese artist painted the English minister and
his suite a few years ago, he gave them all Chi
nese features —yet they were likenesses never
theless, only chinezeed.
The Major seems to feel quite at home. The
only thing which annoys him, is, that Tim may
compromise him by his want of the savoir faire
and by his general verdancy. For instance, the
young medico fancied that the napkin which was
artistically placed in his tumbler in the shape of
a fan, was one, and said to the waiter :
“ Here, boy, take away this fan! I don’t
want one! I can fun myself with my hat!"
The purple finger glasses puzzled him; but
the Major whispered to him what use to make
of them.
“ I don’t dirty my fingers enough at the table
to wash ’em before folks, and where’s she soap ?
When I want to get the dirt off my hands, I’ll
go to my wash basin.”
“Don’t talk so loud, neffy!’’ said the Major,
nervously. “ Here, help yourself to some nuts.
It’s genteel to wash your hands at table. Take
the nuts.”
“ Ha’n’t got no hammer nor a brick to crack
’em with, Major!"
“ Bless my soul! There are your nut crack
ers I” exclaimed the Major.
“Guess I don’t use my teeth on them hickory
nuts,” he answered firmly. “Do you mean them
pinchers ?”
“ Look you, Tim, confound your ignorance,”
said the uncle, “if yon don’t get along better
learning the ways of the world, I’ll have your
meals sent to your state-room.”
“ I wish you would, and then I’d get a chance
to eat what is on my plate. I’ve had full tea
plates of one thing and another, and before I
can get three mouthfulls, one of these waiters
snatches it up and is off with it, and I don’t see
it again. I suppose it’s all they get to eat,
though.”
The Major laughed and so did I! From the
serious and quiet face of the young embryo
medical studeut, one would have been puzzled
to decide whether he were really ignorant, or
simulating ignorance. But I had seen enough
of him to know that he was in earnest. Cer
tainly, never was a young fellow, naturally of
good sense and average intelligence, so ignorant
of the usages of society. He kept the Major in
a constant fever; and especially in the ladies’
cabin, where, of an evening, Tim would make
his appearance with all the independence and
sang froldoi a young Indian, to listen to the
music! His tall, ungainly shape, his expensive
and outrerainbow costume, his open wonder at
all he saw, his pleased expression at the sight
0 f the dancers, his undisguised delight at the
music, rendered him a conspicuous object of at
tention aud curiosity, The Major at >8““-
od him; but he so often called him CM Un
cle,” that it was no use for the mortified kins
man to deny the relationship. ,There is a charm -
ing widow (and a fortune) who has captivated
the Major and fairly made a fool of him I bhe
sings to him and shakes her ambrosial curls at
him, and perforates him through and through
with looking at him over her shouldes, out of
the corners of her fine eyes! The Major has
written in album, gone ashore and gut lie red
bright autumnal leaves for her herbarium, and
made love to her on the guards deiperutely.
The widow is evidently amusing harsslf at my
remote relative’s expense! But loveis blind,
and in bald-headed, middle-aged yotpg men,
like the Major, foolish! The widow s clearly
mischevious! She has seen and underttood the
true character of things between the ancle aud
‘neffy 1’ I saw a specimen of her feminine fun
to-day, to annoy tlie Major, aud I not to
punish him for cutting Tim, who had not ceased
to pay her beauty, with his admiring eyes, the
profoundest compliments; for he nevf 1 took his
gaze from her when he could find .er! The
-widow had discovered the impression er charms
had made upon the verdant youth; aud com
menced an open flirtation with Tim o the ut
ter cousteruation of the Major, wh< came in
and found the ‘ neffy ’ coraiortably s ting near
her and coolly talking to her about siring and
hunting down in Barritaria !
“ What do you think, Poyns?” he iried, hast
ening to me from the cabin.
■ “ What ?’’ I demanded.
“ The beautiful widow and Tito ore flirting I
What shall I do? She cut her eyi at me, as
much as to say, ‘Don’t intermpGus!’ _The
minx! .She knows he’s rich! Means to'trap
him! I’ll protect the simple young man from
herarta! She’ll turn his head W twenty-four
hoursl” . t
“ Let them alone*” I said; **«i!Kw,be the ma
king of him. Give me a clever woman tbpoTwh
a green young man, and bring out wliat stuff ho
is made of! She is doing him and you a great
honor to talk to him and iuterest herself in
him.”
“But the rascal will fall in love with her in a
jiffy!” exclaimed the Major, furiously.
“So much the better," I said calmly.
“I’ll murder him if he does! She is all but
engaged to me ! Listen! She absolutely told
me last night, that were I not bald, and if my
beard was black, (she praised its wavy lines as
it is,) she should think I would be irresistible
That is enough, sir! I’ll get a wig, and dye my
beard, sir, as soon as we get to Memphis ! She’s
got a plantation and sixty hands ! I’ll kill Tim
if he tries to cut me out!” added the Major,
with a ludicrous attempt to look savage and
murderous.
At this crisis, the cry that “ Vicksburg was
in sight,” drew us all to the guards to behold
this romantically-situated city, street rising
above street, and roof above roof, its apex
crowned by tbe court house and pinnacles of
churches. ,
We remained there but a few minutes, but
the former stately residence of S. S. Prentiss,
the most eloquent orator of the southwest, was
pointed out to me, situated upon a commanding
eminence. Forty miles east of Vicksburg, by rail,
is Jackson, tbe capital of Mississippi. This rail
road is slowly advancing its terminus towards
Sdlina and Montgomery, and in two years will
be completed, opening an important line of com
munication between Georgia and the valley of
the Mississippi. ,
As yours is an agricultural paper, I ought,
perhaps, to speak of crops, trees, soil, &c., but I
leave this subject for your special agricultural
columns. I only describe what comes under
the eye of a tourist, being rather an observer of
men, and recorder of incidents and scenes as
they pass. ,
The duelling ground opposite Vicksburg, was
shown me. Years past it was a frequented bat
tle-field ! but of late years the duello is scarcely
known in Mississippi. Here occurred, twenty
years ago, the political duels between Prentiss
and General Foote. The former was lame.and
always wore a cane. On tho ground he leaned
upon it, placed, as usual, in front of his left
knee, which was supported by the pressure.
General Foote’s second objected to the cane,
saying “it would turn a ball.” Prentiss flung it
away with a smile of scorn on his fine face, say
ing, “Tell General Foote he may stand behind
that sapling,” and, standing on one leg, with his
cigar in his mouth, he reserved his fire and
wounded his opponent.
Here, also, Colonel Claiborne fought, I believe,
with Foote. He was taken suddenly ill the
evening previous to the day sot for the fight,
and the second of the opposite party called to
inquire if he would be well enough to be on the
ground. “Ifhe is not there," said bis spirited
young wife, “ I will take his place! ’ The Col
onel, however, was on the ground, and came off
victor. - ,
The most desperate contest which ever took
place on the shores of this river, was in 1829,
between Col. Bowie and a gentleman of Natchez.
Twenty gentlemen were ranged on a side to see
fair play, but at the second fire the whole forty
went into tho melee with dirks and pistols, and
a battle of the most desperate character was
fought, during which three men were killed,
and seven or eight combatants, including the
surgeon of Col. 8., wounded! But all that wild
spirit of ill-directed courage and false chivalry
is departed; and it is not many years since
General Duffiold, of Natchez, received a piece
of plate from the citizens for refusing to accept
a challenge under aggravating circumstances.
The duel is now given up pretty much to mem
bers of Congress. -Without question, the brave
man who can refuse to fight shows more real
courage than he who dares not refuse I A duel
is no evidence of courage, nor proof of right 1
It accomplishes nothing! It is as resultless
as it is sinful and absurd. Brave men seldom
go armed 1 Brave men never draw a weapon,
unless they intend to use it in defense of, or ta
king of, life. As a general thing, a man who
goes armed is a timid man, or a quarrelsome
man I Secret weapons are unworthy a brave
and peaceable gentleman. As society advances
in refinement and intelligence, secret arms, are
laid aside, and men trust to the laws, rather
than to their own red hand, for protection and
security of person and property. But aurevoir.
TEE DEAD LANGUAGES.
We extract from the introductory lecture of
Dr. Joseph Joses, at the opening of the courso
of 1859-60 in the Medical College of Georgia,
the following remarks on the importance and
value of the ancient languages in the 'work of
education:
“We are now prepared to examine, in the
third place, the character, order, and relative
value oi the different departments of knowledge
in the work of education.
In the development of knowledge, we must
have signs and sounds, to denote the properties
and actions and relations of matter, exciting
changes In the organs of sense, end sensation in
the nervous system. We must have signs and
sounds to denote the objects of thought. With
out signs and* sounds, there could be no com
munication of ideas between intelligences, be
cause they are the permanent representatives of
our ideas. It is evident, therefore, that Lan
guage was the necessary result of the mind, and
advanced in perfection and power and compass,
just as the human mind and science were devel
oped. Hence, the 6tudy of Language should be
the starting point of all edncation.
In this utilitarian age, the philosophical study
of language, unfortunately, is too often neglect
ed and treated with contempt, as a waste of
time. Nothing can be mare erroneous. Lan
guage presents £f stereotyped expression of the
mode of action and development of the mind.
The ancient languages of Greece and Rome pre
sent a field upon which all minds, in all nations,
may meet and converse with the mighty dead.
Ancient languages resemble geological strata,
rich in the accumulated remains of ages—each
word is a fossil, which gives evidence of former
organization and life, of ancient convulsions and
mighty revolutions.
In the study of languages, every word has a
history of its own, and must also be studied in
its relations with other words, and with analo
zous words in other languages; every sentence
has its own construction and relations to previ
ous sentences, and conveys a definite idea,
which is related to preceding and subsequent
ideas: the impossibility, therefore, of rendering
the meaning of every sentence absolutely, and
the consequent exercise of selecting the nearest
and best of the two or more approximated ren
derings, cultivates in an eminent degree precis
ion and judgment
It is impossible to reason accurately, and des
cribe accurately; it is impossible to make an an
alysis of the reasoning process in general, with
out a knowledge of the etymologies and mutual
relations of words and terms.
In the work of education, the ancient languages
should never be exchanged for the modern
languages. The modern languages are degene
rated and composite: it is well known that Lat
in enters into the vocabulary of Germanic
tongues, and is the ground-work and frame-work
of Italian, French, Spanish, and kindred lan
guages ; consequently the study of the Latin
language forms the best preparation for the ac
quisition of the modern languages. The rela
tions of the ancient to the modern languages
have been thus aptly illustrated by the distin
guished professor of Humanity in the Universi
ty of Edinburgh ;* ‘lndeed,-when one consid
ers these venerable forms of speech in connexion
with the history of Europe, from the times in
which they were spoken to the present day, one
is tempted to compare them to splendid edifices
reared by the genius of antiquity, fairly propor
tioned, and presenting an outline of squared
and polished blocks of the finest marble ; but
which, at a period when time had begun to im
pair without destroying their beauty, an earth
quake and tempest suddenly coming on, shook
from their foundations, and shivered into frag
ments. Out of these fragments, with whatever
materials came in our way, we moderns, when
the storm had subsided, built ourselves habita
tions, convenient enough in point of accommo
dation, and destined to lodge many a gifted ten
ant, but nevertheless devoid of the grace, and
decoration,and exquisite symmetry of the original
structure. And if a few specimens of this archi
tecture have escaped! the wreck of agea, and
• Contributions to the Cause of Education, by James
mans, Esq, London, 1356, page 893.
j Two Dollars Per Annum, [
| Always In Advance. j
survive in al) their primitive chasteness and el
egant simplicity, shall we not teach our youth to
visit them, to admire their lair proportions, to
study their cunning workmanship, and to imitate
whatever is imitable of their perfection ?’
Languages can ouly be learned thoroughly
and scientifically by comparing them with each
other ; hence learning Latin and Greek, the stu
dent learns English also in a far more thorough
manner, and at the same time acquires in many
respects a more perfect and powerful instrument
of thought and express’on.
The critical study of languages not onty de
velopcs and strengthens the memory and rea
soning faculties; but it also, in a manner that
can be accomplished by no other study, and in
fact not by all studies combined, refines the
taste, enriches and purifies the imagination, and
stores the mind with useful information in histo
ry and philosophy. The sublimest poetry, the
deepest, most powerful and learned works in pol
itics, morals, law, medicine, philosophy and the
ology were written in dead languages, and in
most cases remain still in the dead languages—
the works of Aristotle and Plato will remain to
the end of time, the text-books of the statesman,
metaphysician and philosopher; the works of
the greatest physician that ever lived were writ
ten, and have been preserved in Greek—all the
medieval records of medicine, and all the terms
of the Materia Medica are found in Latin, and
this is the language hi which at this very day
the physician writes his prescriptions—and while
the Roman law is absolutely indispensable to the
perfection and accomplishment of every lawyer,
as the most comprehensive and self-connected of
all the systems of jnria|inH«fr»i il« study is ab
solutely necessary to the Latin philologist and
antiquarian, for the most successful cultivators
of ancient literature have been cultivators of
Roman law ; —and it is well known that the
knowledge of the dead languages is even more
important and essential to the theologian than
to the lawyer, statesman or philoso
pher, for the interpretation of the sacred books,
the most important function of the theologian,
supposes a profouud knowledge of not only the
languages, *ut also of the spirit and history of
the languages of antiquity.
As therefore the study of languages developes
all the faculties of the mind, the reason, judg
ment, memory, imagination, aed the taste, it is
unquestionably the best basis of all education,
general or professional, legal, medical and theo
logical.”
—
McDonald Clarke, tub Mxfi Poet.—“ One
evening, many years ago, I was walking toward
Broadway, after business hours. The night pro
mised to be tempestuous, clouds were gathering
in the sky, such as usually gather around one’s
birthday when it happens to be March fifth. I
was then precisely twenty-four years old. I
mention the fact merely to record tho date, for
memory’s sake. At the corner of Tesey-streot
and Broadway—St. Paul’s corner—around the
iron fence a crowd had collected; and the centre
and attraction of the crowd was a wild-looking
creature, dressed in a long, blue Spanish cloak,
his head bare, and his scanty gray hairs drip
ping with sleet and rain. It was McDonald
Clarke, the mad poet He waved those long,
thin fingers of hiß in the air, and invoked, in
strange, rhapsodical language, the elements that
blustered around him. Even in so heterogene
ous an audience, there were none but pityiDg
faces. Just as I readied the spot some persons
endeavored to lead him away. Everybody in
the city then was familiar with his strange vaga
ries, and, therefore, no unusual catastrophe was
expected. But that night this poor, mad poet,
the heir of want and scorn, died in the ‘ Tombs.’
* * v v * j„ looking over a volume of
his poems, one is struck with occasional stanzas
of rare grace and beauty, even amid the most
incoherent aud incongruous images and fancies.
As the chief of these have already been select
ed, amiNire to be found in the usual collections
of Americah poetry, I shall not do more than
refer to them here: but I cannot help recalling
an impromptu not before in print, I believe,
which certainly is as touching as any lines ever
written. That eminent artist, Thomas Hicks,
once made a sketch of poor Clarke, and the lat
ter, after gazing at it attentively for some time,
breathed lorth in a voice of tender melancholy:
‘No wonder that they call me mad,
If mine be such a mournful lace,
So very desolate and sad,
So furrowed with affliction's trace.’"
— ««>
There is nothing so elevating to a woman as
the love of a truly great and noble man. The
worship she pays him, whether it be that of
friendship or of tove, exalts her mind and fills
her soul with holy joy; therw is nothing so
crushing to the spirit, as to be the slave of a
churL— [Mrs. Crowe.
A well cultured mind is a store-house of in
valuable wealth, and he who improves the fleet
ing hours as they pass, in adding to his stock of
knowledge, is pursuing a course which will in
crease his capabilities for future usefulness and
enjoyment.
NO. 39.