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Southern Field and Fireside.
H—
j( VOL. 1.
TFor the Southern Field and Fireside.]
A FARE WELL-LEFT FOR XT FRIEND.
BY MARY R. BRYAN".
The shrouded sky is wild towiight;
The wind, a haunted, homeless thing,
Ooes moaning on its aimless flight,
While, like a dying vulture's wing,
The sear bough flaps against the pane
Wet with the chilly winter rain.
Yet, were there moonlight in the skies,
Add fragrance in the gentle air.
And young leaves trembling to the sighs
Os a soft breeze that stirred my hair—
Were this all melody and light,
’ Twere still, to me, a mournful night
For, ere the snn Night's seal shall brelk,
And morning dawn on shore and sea,
Ere thy dark eyes, my lovo, shall wake,
I shall be for away from thee!
And many moons shall wax and wane
Ere I may clasp thy hand again,
Or watch the smile, like sunrise, break
Through the sad twilight of thine eyes,
Which thoughts and dreams their mirrors make—
Painting their image as they rise!
I shall not sit and read them o'er
lilt ndiil fire UgIUU walUw giaour
As in dear days that are no more.
So, little reck I, if no light
In yonder clouded sky appears,
For were there stars in heaven to-night,
1 could not count them for my tears.
Their moving glories would to me
But tell how swift the hours do flee, *
How soon I shall be far from thee I
Sleep lightly, love 1 the hour is near;
I go, and leave thee to thy dreams.
Without one farewell word, or tear,
Save that which down my own check streams—
Out—through the shadows of the night,
Without thy smile to be my light
Heaven's blessing on thee, love—good night 1
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
FROM A TOURIST’S QUIVER;
OR, •
Scenes and Incidents of n Tour
From New Orleans to New York.
BY ONE OF THE PARTY.
ARROW XVIII.
Pittsbcro, December 21, 188#.
The most prominent reminiscence of this city
in the minda of all travelers, is, I find, of its
“ smokiness.” Without doubt it can claim a
good title to this distinctive characteristic, for
‘ smoking ’ is one of its * institutions.’ A cloud,
murky and heavy, impenetrable by the sun,
(perhaps by the rain,) hung above the town as
we entered, concealing the summits of spires
and the beads and shoulders oi the overhang
ing hills that frown down upon its rivers and
streets
The pocket handkerchiefs of the ladies in our
party were soon specked with little fibres of
soot, which floated in the atmosphere, and by
the time we had walked half an hour about the
streets, the Major’s shirt ruffle (for he rejoices
in this ante-delurian pectoral adornment,) pre
sented the aspect which would have been the
result had ink been sprinkled thereupon with a
fly brush; while the humidity of the air de
prived it of all form and dignity.
“A vile atmosphere, Poyns,” he growled.
“.Look at the black lint flying about and light
ing on everything.”
“Dear madam,” he added, turning to the
widow who, with her brother, had honored us
with their company in our stroll about the city,
“ there is a flake of coal on your chin and an
other on your cheek—allow me to remove them
with your handkerchief 1”
The widow smiled and colored at the ardent
proposition, made in tones most indignant and
earnest, and surrendered her kerchief.
As delicately as if he were brushing down
from a full ripe peach, the gallant Major touched
the cheek with the perfumed cambric, but in his
diffidence and anxiety his hand trembled and,
instead of removing the sable flake, he left
it painted on the fair cheek in an inch and a
half black line; while another streak was
scored, by the same bungling fingers, across the
beautiful convexity of the widow's chin.
A second attempt, made in a sort of despair,
only made matters worse, and the widow sup
posing that the spots were removed was about
to thank the kind young middle-aged gentle
man, when, seeing a twinkle in my eves, and
consternation on tho Major's visage and a very
brood smile on Tim’s, she cried—
“ Wlist is it you’ve done, Major Bedott l I
know you’ve made s fright of met"
The Major, blushing, acknowledged the truth
i JAMES GARDNER, I
I Proprietor. |
of tho imputation: . when Tim going up auda
ciously took tho widow’s chin between his
thumb and finger, and with two skilfully ap
plied rubs with his ow n red silk handkerchief,
returned matters to their normal condition, and
one that, either the rubbing or “ the scene,” in
creased the rich color of her cheek, making her
look more charming than ever.
“ Confound my lubberly fingers,” sajd the Ma
jor ; “and confound Tim: That scamp is my evil
genius. He follows me just to repair my dam
ages and redeem my gaucheries. It would be a
blessing to‘lose him between here and New
York. See how she thanked him—hnd how
she did’nt thank me! This Pittsburg soot has
put mo back a whole week in the widow’s
graces.”
This was said sotto voce while the widow was
making a purchase in the store, at the door of
which we stopped for the Major to attempt the
act of gallantry which Tim so completely
achieved.
Without question the smoky atmosphere of
this city is greatly exaggerated; for there are
often fine days, with azure skies by day, and at
night triumphant heavens bending over the
place. But, with all its desei '“d praise, I do
not think it the best place for an astronomical
observatory. Yet it is a hadsome city. Its
streets have a metropolitan air, and many noble
edifices give dignity and elegance to its appear
ance in the eye of a stranger. Its site is singu
larly romam.lv, aua mm ueuuiuUL Covering
the angle made by the rivers Alleghany and
Monongahela, which here uniting produce the
Ohio itself, and partly surrounded by wild-look
ing hills and cliffs, some of which yawn with
dark coal-caverns, it presents a striking aspect
from every point of view. Tho society hero is
highly refined, and even distinguished for'its
literary tone. The suburbs are filled with taste
ful villas, gardens, and vine-clad, pleasant cot
tage homes. Tho reigu of fashion is here as
absolute as elsewhere, though the particles of
black-diamond dust floating in the atmosphere
must fill with despair, remarked the widow, all
who wear bridal attire or venture to put on light
colors.
The complexion-of tho young ladies we met
was very fair; but Tim suggested that this deli
cacy proceeded from contrast, as nearly every
face had a black speck or two upon it; and as
our great-grand mothers wore bits of black
court-plaster on chin, cheek, and brow, to set
off the whiteness of the skin, (an art some of
their great-grand daughters seem not to be
wholly ignorant ofj) so the floating flakes of
soot seeking rest on brow and cheek lend their
aid to produce the same effects.
Our railroad 1 ride’ to this place, from Cincin
nati, was very agreeable. We left there at
about 10 o’clock and reached hero at 2 o’clock,
A. M., that is in fourteen hours. The country
was beautiful, and highly cultivated, and popu
lous beyond our expectations. We found Co
lumbus, the capital of Ohio, a noble city, with a
stately air and an appearance of wealth and
style we were not prepared to expect.
Our cars were admirably “conducted”; that
is, they had conductors who were really civil,
and who tried to make passengers comfortable
instead of opposing their comfort. If a seat
was moved to give a more convenient, resting
place, there was no gruff “ You must not take
that seat up”; but, on the other hand, an offer
of other seats, if necessary; so, when night
came, there being but few passengers, we had
ourselves nicely arranged for .sleeping, each of
us taking two or more benches, while the “ gen
tlemanly” conductor seemed to be perfectly
happy to see how cozy he had made us aH 1
Usually conductors regard passengers as their
natural enemies. When wo find one who has
better views we intend to vote for him as Presi
dent of a Railroad company. “ Suaviter in
mode" we would cheerfully write in our con
ductor’s hat.
When we reached here we found carriages to
take us to the hotel, from which I now write
out my journal. My next will be from Phila
delphia. Au revoir.
-
The London correspondent of the Banffshire
Journal says: The ‘copy of Mr. Carlyle's two
new volumes of Frederick, is now in the hands
of his publishers, Messrs. Chapman and Hall,
but it will be a considerable time yet before the
work in a perfected form reaches the public.—
Carlyle corrects, recorrects, alters, and punctu
ates, so scrupulously, that printers and publish
ers grumble, and the public grow impatient.
Mr. J. Jay Smith is busily preparing a work
comprising u sac-simile of a lotter of each signer
of the Declaration of Independence, with s view
of bis birth-placo or residence; or, where this is
inaccessible, a copy of his monument, or some
memorial.
The ' Orderly Book of the American army sta
tioned at Williamsburg, Vs., in the year 1716,’
is in preparation, with an introduction by Mr.
Charles Compbell, the historiun of tho Old Do
minion. Fifty copies only will be printed for
sale, aud the work will correspond with the
Orderly books issued by Mr. iilnnselL
I *
h . . ■■■ ■■■ ===
AUGUSTA. GA., SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1860.
- : ■ . :
[For the Soutnrn Field and Fireside ]
GLIMPSES MY HOME.
1
BY YAKUT YIF.UINO, 07 NORFOLK, VA.
KLtnKR IV.
PICTURE OF A DEAD INFANT.
Some few mornings since I was strolling, with
a friend, through a iue and commodious Da
guerrean Gallery of pur City, recognizing here
and there a fumiliarpliysiognomy —the man of
business, with thoughtful brow —dweller upon
'Change, with worrit, caip-worn aspect—num
bers of our ‘‘city fillers' —Mayor, Aldermen,
Ac., —divines, doctets, attorneys, merchants,
merchants’ clerks, beatx, moustachioed and
be-whiskered, some of thin full-fledged, some
in the incipient stage, ethers again callow.
City matrons, city bdies, ind yonder the man,
I don’t know his naoe, vhorn I mentally and
tacitly identify with street corners and hotel
steps; his is a familiar fate, I have not gone
“ down town” these seven yfears past without
meeting it—going or coning—it survived the
pestilence of '55, aul prelected itself fresh as
ever to the first proneuader in the Main street
region thereafter.
In « slightly secluded position is a group, or
„„»i ~a»—mwttpa, and here —surely
we are not guessing m ttj e dark rwio—is the
counterpart of one Heaven, n-u ataj
as we please upon the destinies accomplished
and pending of others, here and there, around,
but this oue is in Heaven. It is the child of
strang* parents vto us, their names even un
known, but our sympathies went out to them as
we thought of the large vacancy in the homes,
in tie hearts, which the little one had left. The
stiffened limbs repose upon a snowy covered
biir, a pillow supports the tiny head enshrouded
ia a close-fitting cap, the little eyes are lightly
closed for their long sleep, and a ruddy tint
upon the smoothly-rounded cheek almost cheats
Che beholder into a dream of childhood’s healthy
slumber. But, alas I for the artist and his coun
terfeit coloring so life-like 1 There is a fearful
limner and his name is Death, and ye cannot
paint over him I—your work is admirable —his
is perfect. Os all but the rigidity of feauture,
where he has set his seal, ye might beguile the
bystander, but His nameless touch is there, and
even the glorious sun, over whose rays your art
holds high power, must succumb to him till the
time when lie is “ swallowed up in victory.”
There are liny baby shoes somewhere —little
fairy robes treasured up in some trunk or draw
er—a small, pure white scrap of paper, with a
miniature curl of the softest and silkiest hair
that ever was seen —a vacant cradle carried
away in an unfrequented room, where some
body—strange inconsistency of grief!—steals
aw ay to look at, and weep over it, again and
again. There is this, that, and the other—trea
sures which were to have been given to baby,
when it grew up to man's or woman’s estate.
There are all these, somewhere. There is re
joicing, somewhere —in Heaven—whither baby
has gone, and the little representative of this
and these still occupies its niche in the picture
gallery.
XUUBER V.
ECONOMY.
An estimable correspondent vs one of our
city journals, known to us only by the taking
title of “ Friendship,” appealeth to certain vic
tims of the caccethes scribendi, yocr humble con
tributor among the number, to turn pens and
ink to account of the theme which heads this
column, and surely suggests a fertile field for
the employment of time, tongues, talen(a» pens,
and ink.
The subscriber to the article—happy man l—
avers that his wife has expended for her own
necessities in dress — twenty-five dollars a year—
for the past two years. A small outlay—and
yet it con be made to answer; —l wouldn’t ac
quiesce unless I knew. Surely the sheriff won’t
soon wait at that man’s door with an attaching
testimonial of his wife's devotion to a silken and
be-jewelled standard of gentility. My life on it,
too, her children and servants are neatly clad,
and the former sent to good schools. Vague
visitors of fireside beatitudes, such as just above
cited, impress me with a (for the time being) un
defined emotion of pleasure whenever I see a
pretty face beaming above a neat calico dress
and linen collars—and yet, she whose name
stands for the authorship of this communication
must, in all candor, plead guilty to a most femi
nine affection for pretty clothes. This affectum,
stretched beyond the bounds of discreet tension,
must, 1 know, fairly bear its portion of the blame
attaching to the present pressure of monetary
matters, and yet /—don’t ask me to demonstrate ,
for the cabalistic figures in a statistical table
only wear the aspect of so many black-letter de
signs to conjure away my feminine senses, —yet
I do entertain a shrewd suspicion that there are
certain spirits not fairly and adequately visited
upon for their share in the trassaction. Foreign
silks and aattns and cetera, are, in away, very
reprehensible matters, we all admit, but certain
wines, brandies and cigars—with cognomen sug
gestive of a nationality widely out of the Amer
ican line, should, in ail fairness, be brought into
the account, — clubs should be made to “ knock
under,” and “ fast horses ” not permitted to fly
the track, in this day of reckoning; so shall all
own up and commence afresh.
KUMBER VL
"THE STONE WITHOUT A NAME.
Upon a morning not many months agone,
when the mellow sun gilded shaft and urn and
obelisk in the shade-bound precincts of Cedar
Grove, the present writer formed one of a group
who were strolling through the quiet streets of
that “ silent city.”
Here —there—another, and another monu
mental offering arrested the eye. On one band,
mother Earth had spread a soft, green cover
let over some sleeping denizen among that vast
assemblage. On some graves fresh flower gar
lands lay—or vases fragrant with their freight
of roses stood at the head or foot of some slum
berer’s earth couch. Tiny tablets of whitest
marble commemorated the little “Lillie,” or
“ Fannie,” or “Jennie,” who, (such wee crea
tures as they were, tool) bore away with
them from hearthstone to gravestone, so much
oflove and hope.
There, weary with the weight of years, lay
some, shut out from tUui autumn aitnahin* hy
friend —or, as man and Christian; and artist
hands and ever beautiful Nature there wage
their noiseless, bloodless war with oblivion—as
who should be roaster. \
A stone without a name now arrests the atten
tion. What more eloquent tribute could affec
tion offer upon hallowed ground 1 We traverse
the four sides of the obelisk, but no name is
traced there—not a letter.
The embodying dust of some heart’s sweet
dreams are garnered up beneath that mute
stone —the epitaph is written in ineffaceable
characters upon the heart itself. Peace be to
thee, whomsoever thou art, wanderer in the
wilderness! Thou bast set up a stone in this
thy Bethel, sacred to the memory of that time
when heaven and earth seemed so near togeth
er—when angels descended—and, alas! re
ascended, upon tfie ladder connecting the one
with the other. Like His who of old journeyed
toward Heaven, may thy vows which thou here
vowest bring thee in a rich reward, and this
stone which thou hast set for a pillar be an ear
nes* of the beatitudes which the God of Jacob
has in store for thee.
TEA, COFFEE AND COCOA FOB THE SICK.
Too much is said against tea by wise people,
and too much of tea is given to the sick by fool
ish people. When you see the natural and al
most universal craving in English sick for their
‘tea,’ you cannot but feel that nature knows
what she is about. But a little tea or coffee re
stores them quite as much as a great deal, and a
great deal of tea, .and especially of coffee, im
pairs the little power of digestion they have.—
Yet the nurse, because she sees how one or two
cups of tea or coffee restores her patient, thinks
that three or four will do twice as much. This
is not the case at all; it is, however, certain
that there is nothing yet discovered which is a
substitute to the English patient for his cup of
tea 'r- he can take it when he can take noihing
else, and he often can’t take anything else if he
has it not.
I should be very glad if any of the abusers of
tea would point out what to give to an English
patient after a sleepless night instead of tea. If
you give it at five or six o’clock in the morning,
he may even sometimes fall asleep after it, and
get, perhaps, his only two or three hour's sleep
during the twenty-four. At the same time you
never should give tea or coffee to the sick, as a
rule, after five o’clock in the afternoon. Sleep
lessness in the early part of the night is from ex
citement, generally, and is increased by tea or
coffee; sleeplessness which continues to the ear
ly morning, is from exhaustion, often, and is re
lieved by tea. The only English patients I have
ever known to refuse tea have been typhus cas
es ; and the first sign of their getting better was
their craving again for tea. In general, the dry
and uirty tongue always prefers tea or coffee,
and quite decline milk, unless with tea. Coffee
is a better restorative than tea, but a gteater ira
pairerof digestion. Let the patient's taste de
cide. You will say tkat, in cases of great thirst,
the patient’s craving decides that it will drink a
great deal of tea, and that you cannot help it
But in these cases be sure that the patient
requires diluents for quite other purposes than
quenching the thirst; he wants a great deal of
some drjnk, not only of tea, and the doctor will
order that he is to have barley-water, or lemon
ade, or soda water and milk, as the case may be.
Lehmann, quoted by Dr. Chriatison, eays, that
among the well and active, M the infusion of an
ounoe of roasted coffee, daily, will diminish the
waste" going on in the body "by one-fourth;’’
and Dr. Christiaon adds that tea lias the same
property. Now, this ia actual experiment.—
Lehmann weighs the roan and finds the fleet from
his weight. It ia not deducted from any ' aualy
I Two Dollars Per Annum, I
| Always In Advance. f
sis’ of food. All experience among the sick
shows the same thing. Cocoa is often recom
mended to the sick in lieu of tea or coffee. It
is an ony, starchy nut, having no restorative
powers at all but simply increasing heat It
is pure mockery of the sick, therefore, to call
it a substitute for tea. For any renovating
stimulus it has, you might just as well offer
them chestnuts instead of tea.
An almest universal error among nurses is
the bulk of the food, and especially the drinks
they offer to their patients. Suppose a patient
ordered four ounces of brandy during the day,
how is ho to take this if you make it into four
pints with diluting it? The same with tea and
beef teat with arrowroot, milk, etc. You have
not increased the renovating power of these ar
ticles by increasing their bulk; you have very
likely diminished both by giving the patient’s
digestion more to do; and most likely of all, the
patient will leave half of what he has been order
ed to take, because he could not swallow the
bulk with which you have been pleased to invest
it. It requires very nice observation and care
(and meets with hardly any) to determine- what
will not be too thick or strong for the patient
to take, while giving him no more than the bulk
which he ia able to swallow.— [Notes on Nursing
by Flortnce Nightingale.
w 11 > m
A BRITISH SOLDIER OH WABHIHGTON.
TH<> f y W- * r ■ - « xyT-tt wuer written wo
xv.- js™ York.’ in 1719, by a
young Englishman in America iu a *»»
London, contains some interesting facts in refer
ence to Washington:
"“Dear Bob: In my last letter I promised to
give you an impartial account of the personal ap
pearance of the American generalissimo, and as
far as possible point out some of the most pro
minent traits in his character.
“ Well, to begin with his color. He is not a
negro, neither is he an Indian, as most of your
tine ladies and gentlemen in England have been
taught to believe all Americans are; but be is
in form, feature and action, as fine a specimen of
a white man as you will see in a year’s travel
throughout tho kingdom. - He is of more than
ordinary height, muscular and robust, is erect as
a stag, and manages his head quite as gracefully.
His eyes are of a mild blue and serve to height
en a naturally gentle expression of countenance.
His manners are affable and condescending,
without any of that hauteur so fully exemplified
by our king’s generals, as so lamentably ex
tracted from one of them at Saratoga. His face
is slightly marked with small-pox, so slightly
that it is not generally observable. To all ap
pearances he has no beard, or, if any, it is ex
ceedingly meagre. His hair is grayish-brown,
and may havo been fluo, but it is not now. His
nose is large, as well as his mouth, but not out
of proportion with the other features of his
face. In connection with this, let me tell you
the rather curious fact that his face is not always
of the same length. He wears false teeth, not
having a natural one in his head, and when
they are out his nose and chin nearly meet, and
his face is perceptibly shorter. When I was a
prisoner at Tappan I witnessed this fact several
times.
“ In his morals he is irreproachable, notwith
standing the scandal and other jealousies that
creep into your London prints. He is strictly
opposed to gaming, and not only prohibits it in
his own family, but had on many occasions is
sued orders to prevent it among his soldiers.—
Our people deride this virtue, and attribute it. to
a. desire on the part of Washington to excite the
admiration of the Bostonians; but I (a tor.v, as
the rebels call mo,) believe it proceeds from a
desire to do good.
“In his family, Washington is a pattern for
the homeliest. He is affectionate to his wife
(they have no children), and is a kind master to
his slaves, two or three of whom are always
with b«m. I" fine, I wish I could think of our
generals as possessing even one of his virtuous
qualities.
“Os his military abilities, you have heard, and
will again, if the crazy politicians of Britain are
not caged, as they should have been before they
sent out the Cerberus and the Terrible Three.
“ You will be disgusted ot the seeming want
of respect I have for my King and country, but
I assure you my feeling proceeds from the purest
motives, and a decent regard for civilization.”
W. T. McM.
A national edition of the works of Washing
ton Irving, (jpcluding the ‘Life of Washington,’)
is now in course of publication by Mr. George
P. Putnam, the friend and publisher of the la
mented author. It is for subscribers only, and
will appear in monthly vohimes, beautifully
printed on heavy superfine paper, of the best
quality, and substantially bound in heavy bev
elled boards. Each volume will be illustrated
with vignettes on wood and steel The series
comprises twenty-one volumes, the first of which
—the ‘Sketch Book’— has already appeared.
The London Leader criticises Mr. Prentice a •
“ Wit and Humor in Paragraphs" with severity.
It finds neither real wit nor genial humor in the
collection. ‘‘Jewel* so maulfeatly more paate
were scarcely worth the stringing."
NO. 52. il