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in it jedge. I only blowed my nose h9vin of
a bad cold.’
‘What are you doing here any way, sir?’
‘I jest come to court, sir.’
‘Got any business here ?’
‘No sir.’
‘What did you come for then ?’
‘Why I thought, jedge, that every body was
liable to come to court.’
‘Liable, liable 1 yes, and so are they liable to
behave themselves; and if they don’t, they are
liable to be fined. What is your name, sir ?’
‘Allen Thigpen, sir.’
*Thigpen, Thigpen! I might have known
that any body with that name couldn’t tell a
court room from a stable. Mr. Thigpen, you
are lined in the sum of two dollars.’
Mr. Thigpen ran his hand into his pocket,
and drawing out a dirty buckskin purse, emp
tied it, aud counting the pieces with a rueful
face, walked up two or three of the steps, and
extending his hand to the judge said:
‘Them’s all I’ve got jedge. Dollar one-and
nine is the highth of what I could raise if I
was going to be hung.’
Now, whether from looking upwards at so
resplendent a luminary as the judge, or from
the violence of his cold, we could not say; but,
as His Honor was gazing upon the extended
hand in ludicrous surprise and wrath. Mr.
Thigpen felt a sudden impulse to. sneeze—an
impulse which, whenever it coup's, in court
rooms or elsewhere, must be ooeyed. He
made herculean efforts to suppress it ,' but as
is usual in such cases, its victory was but the
more triumphant and violent. In his terror,
and endeayoring to assure the judge that he
was doing his best, he could not avert his eyes
from him. His face assumed the agonized
contortions of a maniac; his great chest heaved
like a mountain in labor, and he uttered a
shriek which, in any circumstances but those
which showed that nothing serious or uncom
mon was the matter, ■ would have filled all
within a circle of two hundred yards diameter
with consternation, [n the violence of the
paroxysm, the coin flew up from his hand as if
they had been discharged from a catapult, and
coming down, several of them fell upon the
judge’s bead and rolled into his lap. An in
stantaneous burst of laughter followed this ex
plosion which, however, was as instantly hush
ed. No words can depict the expressions up
on the faces of the two prominent actors. The
judge had been, as it were, lifted out of bis
chair, and there the two stood glaring upon
each other, speechless. Each seemed to feel
that this was no time for talking—that words
were inadequate to do justice to the occasion.
Hi 9 Honor snatched up the docket with the
evident intention of knocking Mr. Thigpen
down, whether in self-defence, or in vindica
tion of the outraged dignity of the court, it was
impossible to tell. Mr. Thigpen looked at it
beseechingly—as much as to say, ‘knock me
down with it and welcome, but please don't
hang me.’ There they stood for a quarter of a
miuute. Then the judge, feeling doubtless that
neither tne penal code nor the court’s discre
tion were adequate to punish the outrage as it
deserved, said almost in a whisper, as the of
offender sUmQ with his face contorted and un
wiped :
“For God’s sake, be off from here you cussed
fool, and never let me see you again in this
world.’
He made no unnecessary delay. When he
had gotteu fairly without hearing of the court,
a crowd which had followed him were roaring
arouud him with laughter.
‘How did you feel, Allen ?’ asked one.
‘Feel! I didn’t nave no feelins. They was
all scared out o’ me.’
‘But what did you carry him the money
for?’
‘Carry him the money ? Wasn’t that right?
He found me.’
They whooped.
‘I thought the money was hisn. I ’lowed
that was the way he got his livm.’
‘Gentlemen!’ he resumed, when the crowd
had recovered from the effect of this last re
mark, ‘gentlemen, there’s two things in this
country that I’m agin. They are schools and
court reoms. When I were standing tliar
jist now, if the feelins had not been skeered
out o’ me, and I had had my jedgment about
me, I should a felt like little Asa Boatright
used to feel when Iserl Meadows told him to
go to Horsin; bad hoped never to have
them feelins enduring my nat’ral life, becase I
had the conceptions from Asa’s looks of what
they must be. Gentlemen, I never seed a man
before that I afeerd of. I thought every
body was liable to come to court. Gentlemen,
I comes no more without I’m fotcht. When I
sneezed—aDd I couldn’t ha’ holped it, if the
gallis had been right before me—when I
sneezed, says I to myseif, gone; when, ding
my skin, es I don’t believe that’s what saved
me. Gentlemen, I goes homeand, as they
laughed and shouted, Mr. Thigpen lefL Many
and many times after that, even down to old
age, he w«6 heard to say that be had ‘never
seed but one man that he was afeerd of, and
that was the jedge—old Jedge Mike, as used
to be.*
[to be continued.]
Molier was asked the reason why in certain
countries a king may assume the crown at four
teen years of age, and cannot marry before
eighteen. ‘lt is,’ said Molier, * because it is
more difficult to rule a wife than a kingdom.’—
TTngallant fellow 1
THE SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE.
GOD BLESS THE PLOUGH.
UY LAVIXU 8. WESTON.
Who are the truly great *■
Minions of pomp and state, 1 .
Who the knee bow ?
Give as hard hands and free,
Culture of the Held and tree,
God save the plough !’’
[Mrs. isiyvu-t my.
Then to the fields ye brave!
Yours be the word to save
From our Life's foe;
Want with its ruthless twin
Flies from the cultured plain :
Toil ye might and main—
God bless the plough!
Now lay the furrow deep,
On vale or hill-side steep—
In hope ye sow.
Trusting that mother earth
Give to the seed its birth,
Sing ye, in strains of mirth—
God bless the plough I
Then when the harvest comes,
Plenty through our loved homes,
Joy shall bestow:
Loud shout the reaper-train,.
While o’er the fertile plain,
Rich waves the golden grain,
God bless the plough !
W reaths for your yeomanry,
Green as the Victor’s be —
• Toil crowns their brow,
Theirs the noblest deed—
Theirs be the brightest meed,
While they their calling heed—
God bless the plough!
• ——
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
EARTn- ANGELS.
When all the battles of this war shall have
been fought, and we emerge from the tumult
and strife, a nf>w born child among the nations
of the earth; when our fathers, brothers, sons,
and kindred are once more settled in the quiet
and blessing of home ; when peace and pros
perity again smile upon our fair sunny laud,
then should the women of this Confederacy of
States be loved aYid honored as never before
were the female sex loved and honored by nv»n.
During all the trials and horrors which have
thus far been brought upon us by our vindictive
foe ; while men have quailed, and many havt
ignomiuiously shrunk from iltnlr obvious and
bounden duty, the wommk wuii uuiioxi. &«««.*
and willing have boldly held up the
banner oi freedom, and by their untiring de
votion, their holy labors in the home, tha hos
pital, and even on the battle field, have nerved
the hearts of their brave defenders to deeds of
greater heroism than were ever witnessed by
the world before. But ’tis not alone by physi
cal exertions that she has proved strong.—
In the quiet of" the closet has she wrestled
with God, and wrestling has obtained the
blessings she so continuously besought in be
half of her bleeding country and her bleeding
sons. For all this devotion, and these labors
of love and mercy, what should be the return?
The answer is easy and manifest. Tenfold
more of love, courtesy, kindness, and reverance
for female chastity and honor than ever before.
Women are called the weaker sex, but she
has frequently proved stiong, even stronger
than those to whom she shoftld be but as the
clinging vine to the sturdy oak. I
When prosperty fails; and dark adversity
comes,then women become our earthly strength.
W ben sickness lays hold upon us, and we are
racked with pain or scorched by fever, then
she glides softly about our«couch, administering
to our wants with such constancy and tender
ness that she seems almost an angel from
Heaven, and indeed becomes an Earth-Angel
to us. But this term of Earth-Angel, I should
not, perhaps ascribe quite so indiscriminately.
The women of our Confederacy deserve all the
praise I have ascribed to them, even more.—
But there are bright examples in each of
the departments of her labors whidh shine with
peculiar lustre, and make my term Earth-
Angels more appropriate. These thoughts are
suggested by an incident I witnessed a few
days since. Standiug on the steps of one of
God’s earthly temples, on the first Sabbath of
the new year, my attention was called to a lit
tle child, a girl of eight er ten summers, who
just without the church yard, was weeping as
if her little heart would break. With un
combed hair, soiled hands, and uni id. dress,
she bad been left behind by older children. —
Many men and a few women had passed by,
bestowing only a passing glace at the weeping
child. Then comes one of the Earth-Angels,
dressed in the mantle of mourning, thus show
ing that she, too, hud been afflicted. She went
by the' open gate leading to the sanctuary, and
going up to (he weeping little one, spoke words
of comfort to her heart; and kissing away her
tears, sent her on her way with smiles. What
a holy beauty shone from her lovely face as
she thus devoutly entered the place of worship; {
and I felt as I afterwards saw her engaged in
the solemn services of the hour, that she held
closer comipunion with her God than ever be- [
fore. She had givon a cup of cold water in
the name of Jesus, and received blessing there
for. Was she uot i Earth Aogel, and will
not my fair country voraen emulate her exam
ple, and become more perfect patterns of what
Jesus would have them be ? S.
Camp near Savannah, Jan. 10, 1562.
t iieldler’ iTolio.
Alrhonse Karr and his Tailor.—The tal
ented author of 4 Les guepes’ and various other
jeux d'sprit —relates that he lately sent for his
tailor to make him a coat of a piece of cloth
he had purchased.
‘Can't do it,’ said the tailor, ‘ there isn’t stuff
enough.’-
Karr then sent for another tailor, who, after
carefully measuring the material, undertook to
make the coat. In due time the garment was
delivered, and Karr’s first visit was to the
tailor. I Me voila maheureux V said he : ' be
hold mo in the coat from the very stuff yau said
was insufficient! You see there was stuff
enough after all!’
4 Vary likely,’ said the man of measures,with
imperturable sang froid, ‘very likely; but the
son of the tailor who made it is not so lig as
mine !'
A clergyman preached a sermon some short
time ago, in . well, ’tis no matter where,
and which one of his auditors commended.
4 Yes.’ said a gentleman to whom it was men
tioned, *it was a good sermon, but he stole
it!’
This being told the preacher, he resented it,
and called upon the gentleman to retract what
he had said.
4 1 am not,’ replied the aggressor, 4 very apt
to retrace my words, but in this case I will; 1
said you bad stolen the sermon; I find I was
wrong; for on returning home, and referring to
the book whence I thought it was taken, I
found it still there!’
In a religious excitement, recently in Boston,
a person met a Christian neighbor, who took
him by the hand and said :
4 1 have become a Christian.’
4 Tou are a Christian then, all at ouce,’ said
the other, * you profess to act strictly on Chris
tian principles. lam glad of it. i congratu
late you. Suppose we now have a settlement
of our little accounts between us. Pev me
what thou owest.’ •
4 Xo,’ said the uew-born child of grace, turn
ing on his heel; 4 religion is religion, and busi
ness is business.’
The late witty Samuel William Riley, author
of the Itinerant, seeing a proud and solemn calf
of sixty, swelling down Lord Street, Liverpool,
ucc steti him,’politely, touching his hat:
4 Excuse me, sir, stopping you in the street,
Wr. just wished to inquire the rent of the
«.ojso No. i v. Great George street!’
4 Sit,’ replied his haughtiness, *1 have no
house iu Great George Street.’
4 Oh! I beg a thousand pardons, sir,’said Mr.
R.’ 4 I thought all the town belonged to you !’
Mr. Webster wrote after continued provoca
tion, to the editor of a newspaper, which re
ferred to his private affairs, and especially to
his not paying his debts. He said substan
tially :
4 lt is true that I have not always paid my
debts punctually, and that I owe money. One
cause of this is, that I have not pressed those
who owe me, fcr payment. As an instance of
this, I enclose your father’s not*, made to me
thirty years ago, for monsy lent him to educate
bis boys.’
‘Stammering,’ says Coleridge, ‘is sometimes
the cause of a puu. Some one was mentioning
in Lamb’s presence, the cold-heartedßess of the
Duke of Cumberland, in restraining the Duch
ess from rushing up to the embrace of her son
whom she bad not seeQ for a long time, and in
sisted on her receiving him in state.’
4 How terribly cold it was,’ said the narrator.
4 Yes,’ said Lamb, in'his stuttering way, 4 but
you know he is the Duke of Cu-cmnberland.’
A certain Divine who was more eminent in
his day for the brilliancy of his imagination
than the force of his logic, was preaching on
the 4 Ministry of A Dgels,’ and in the peroration
he suddenly observed:
* I hear a whisper.’
The change of tone started the deacon, who
sat below, from a drowsy mood, and springing
to his feet, he spoke :
‘ I guess it’s the boys in the gallery.’
Fow men have a readier excuse for their
homage than the Grecian sage, who being ask
ed why philosophers always ran after rich
men, while rich men never courted philoso
phers, replied:
‘ Because the latter know they want;noney,
while the former haven’t sense enough to know
they want wisdom.’
‘ When I was in Paris,’ says Lord Sandwich, '
4 1 had a dancing-master; the man was very
civil, and, on taking leave of him I offered him
any serriee in London.
• Then,’ said the man, bowing, ‘ I should take
it as a particular favor if you would never tell
any one of whom you learned to dance.’
What is the difference between an attempted
homicide and hog killing ? One is an assault
with intent to kill—the other is a kill with in- 1
tent to salt, <
- ■■ •-=- 'I
4 There are some members of a community
said the sagacious and witty Thomas Bradbnry,
4 that are like a crumb in the throat; if they go
the right way they afford but little nour ishnient •
but if they happen to go the wrong way, the*
give a great deal of trouble.’
In the streets of Leicester, one day, Dean
S,wift was accosted by a drnnken weaver, who
staggering against his reverence, said:
4 1 have been spinning it out.’
4 Yes.’ said the Dean. 4 1 see you have, and
now you are reeling it home.’
When some one was lamenting Foote’s un
lucky fate in being kicked in Dublin, Johnson
said he was glad of it. ‘He is rising in tbe
world,’ added he, 4 when he was in England, no
one thought it worth while to kick him.’
What is a Flirt ?— A young lady of more
beauty than sense ; more accomplishments than
grace of mind; more admirers than frionds;
more fools than wise men for attendants.
——
CHILDREN’S CORNER.
Answer to Charades in our last: 1. The Heart. 2-
The letter R.
CHARADES.
i A word that is composed of thee letters alone.
And is backward and forward the same,
Withoet speaking a word.makes its sentiments known,
And to beauty layr principal claim.
4 Two sisters we are, andfeveat hardens wu bear,
By some we are heavily pressed;
We areYall all the day, but the truth we must say,
Weare emply when retiring to rest.
Answers next week.
■ - ♦*♦
FIRESIDE AMUSEMENTS,
i The Dutch Concert. —ln this game, all the
i parties sit down. Each person makes a selec
tion of an instrument —say, one * takes a flute,
another a drum, a third tbe trombone, and a
fourth the piano, and each person must imitate,
in the best way ho can, the sound of the in
strument, and the motions of the player. The
leader of the band commencing with bis instru
ment, all the others follow, tuning some popu
lar air such a ‘Dixie,’ *The Voluuteer,’ or ‘The
Bonnie Blue Flag,’ or ‘The Captain with his
Whiskers,’ or any other air. The fun consists
in this, that the leader may take any instru
ment from either of the players, who must
watch the leader, and take the instrument
which he was previously playing. If be or Bhe
fails to do so, he or she pays a forfeit; or, if he
or she mak es a mistake and takes the instru
ment, he or she pays a forfeit. Suppose John
. be the leader, playing the violin, and James to
be one of tbe band playing the trombone.—
Directly, as John ceases to play the violin, and
imitates the trombone, James must cease the
trombone and imitate tbe violiD, and immedi
a*. John returns to the violin. James must
take up the trombone or whatever other instru
ment John was playiDg the moment before he
took tbe violin. If be makes a mistake, he
pays a forfeit.
This is a very laughable though rather a noisy
game. It should uot be continued too long.—
A good leader Will soon be able to impose for
feits upon all the players.
—
Goon Society.— lt should be the aim of
young men to go into good society—we mean
not tbe rich, nor the proud, nor the fashionable,
but toe society of the wise, the intelligent, and
the good. When you find men who know
more than you do, and from whose conversa
tion you can gather information, it is always
sate to be found with them. It, has broken
down many a man to associate with the low
and vulgar, where the ribald song was sung,
and the indecent story told to excite laughter
or influence the bad passions.
Lord Clarendon attributed success and hap
piness in life to associating with persons more
learned and virtuous than ourselves. If you
J wish to be wise and respected, if you desire
happiness and not misery, we advise you to as
sociate with the intelligent and good. Strive
for excellence and strict integrity, and you will
never be found in the sinks of pollution, or m
the ranks of profligates and gamblers. Onco
habituate yourself to a virtuous course, once
secure a love for good society, and no punish
ment would be greater than by accident, to be
obliged for half a day to associate with the low
and vulgar.
When to Begin. —“ That you may find suc
cess,’’ said Rev. Charles Brooks, in an address
to boys, “let me tell you how to proceed : to- .
night begin your great plan of life. You have
but one life to live, and it is immeasurably im
portant that you do not make a mistake. To
night begin carefully. Fix your eye on the
fortieth year of your age, and then say to your
self—at the age of forty I will be a temperate 1
man, I will be an industrious man, an ecnomi • I
cal man, a benevolent’man, a well-read man,
a religious man, and a useful man. I will be
such an one. I resolve, and I will stand to it.
My young friends, let this resolution be firm as
adamant; let it Btand like the oak, which can
not be wind-shaken.”
■»
Young men take care of your evening.—
Learn to value your leisure hours too highly
to squander them in tire st reels, or to waste
them all in the pursuit of more amusements.—
They may be worth to you more than gold or ,
silver, if properly imprqvad. • (h
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