Daily evening star. [volume], December 16, 1852, Image 1

About Daily evening star. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1852-1854

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VOL. I.
WASHINGTON, THURSDAY AFTERNOON, DECEMBER 10, 18-V2.
PROSPECTUS
OP THE
DAILY evening star.
The undersigned proposes to ipublish, so
goon as a sufficient number of subscribers
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i?tuav-ton lrvinu, Prof, hieb?v
? '? Hawthorne, K. B. RimWl,
. '?rwn llalleck, K. Waldo luerron,
l". ' . ? lla*ks, Mrs Kirklnid,
kJr !,eo- t{?ncr(ift, lion K. (i. iquier,
hrt- V* ^?Wnson, Fref. Henry liced,
Kr* I iu,an'Jr-? ^? MitcWl,
j. a., land. Miss Wan*-, author of
%P ^-Kshcp l'otter, of Wide W<*d,
l<y~'r u m. E- p- whi^
py,.r V"aPln? MissC.opet,
l'r^ u T&- Kev. orvill*Dewey,
H. w ? iHPP?n? Miss ^edgwik,
U r T> ^k'*ow> Geo. Sumu?
r . ,
Wtrm I y . y "
a r - Lar^i
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ail l*f !lnrl^>',' or ^ <*nts per nutber. Terms
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^ booksellers ih*ughout the
by the publishers.
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--i .. .. M s POPULAR UBllAUTis still coc
* seau Oiuuihly. U
DAILY EYENINO STAR
[Written for the " Eveniug Slur."']
TO TEE EVENIHG ST AH.
Of all the stars that gem the sky,
Most beautiful thou art?
The brightest one that greets the eye,
The dearest to the h-.art.
By thee how many lovers pli;ht
Thi ir warm an t constant k?vc,
Whiie, through the silent i>Uuu?s oT night,
Thou smiiest from above!
How many heart?, in holy dreams,
To thee are turned at < ven,
And fyel rsu' thy glowing beams
Lit up tlit-ir path to Heaven!
When shining o'er the rtormy ?5ar
Where angry billow* roar,
IIow many put their faith iu tfcf8,
And safely reach the shore !
Then beam, ch gentle Star on me,
When dangers round me riss,
And guide my spirit up to thee, *
To dwell iu blissful skies!
F. McN.
Washington, December, 1S52.
.4,
THE FIRST CSOiS WOSD.
" You seem happy, Annette, always. I
have never been in a familv where the iius
band and wife seemed more so."
" Well done, Kate," said Mrs. Huntington,
laughing, "you have used the word stem only
twice in that short sentence. And now vou
V
have a begging way about you, as if you were
really in earnest to hear something about
married life before taking the fatal step. It
is well Henry is not here to see the look of
sadness in the eye of his bride elect. lie
might fancy her heart was fuil of misgivings
instead of wedding finery."
"Don't laugh at me, Annette; ta^k with
me as you used to do. I love llenrv, vou
? f " V
koow, and yet 1 have many misgivings about
married life. I see so few who Hie really
happy in this relation?I mean happy as 1
should wish to be. You seem to come nearer
to it than any one else. Don't you ever? "
" Quarrel? no, not often, now. We had our
breaking in. I beliove it must come to all,
sooner or later."
44 Do tell me about it, will you, Annette?"
" Yes, if you are very desirous of it. You
may learn something from it. I was a ro
mantic girl, as jou well know, Kate. S nne
tew friends I had, whom 1 loved dearlv ; hut
these friendships did not quite satiny mv
Jbeartj $\miethijjg. more it craved, 1 fiariuy
knew what, uutil i. loved my husbaud. When
we were first married, 1 used to ask myself-?
now, do I tiHd in this liie all which 1 expect
ed to find ? Am I as happy as I thougut I
should be ? My heart always responded, yes,
and more so. With us, the romance of mar
ried life, if I may call it so, held on a long
time. For my part, I was conscious of a
pleasurable excitement of feeling when we
were together. I enjoyed riding and walking
alone with him. The brightest htmrs of the
day were those in which we sat down alone
together, to talk or read. For a long time 1
feit a gentle restraint in Lis presence. 1 liked
to be becomingly dressed, and to feel in tune.
When dull, I made an etiort to be social and
cheerful if he was present. I had a great fear
of getting into the way of sitting down stupid
ly with my husband, or of having notiiing
to talk about but the children and the butch
er's bill. 1 made a business of remembering
every pleasant thing which 1 read or heard or
thought, to tell him, and when all the.-e sub
jects were exhausted, we had each ol' us a
nobby we could ride, so that we were uever
silent fur want of something to say. Thus we
lived for a year or two. 1 was very happy.
1 think peoj*e were ofteu surprise*! to see us
continue to enjoy each other s society with so
much zest.
"But there was this about it. As yet I had'
nothing to try me. We were boarding ; 1 had
no care, and his tenderness and interest was
a sovereign panacta for the little ills and
roughnesses which must fall to us in our best
estate. This could not last forever. lie be
came more and more occupied in his business,
and I at length had a liouseand a baby to look
after. Then, for the first time, our mutual
forbearance was put to the test. Hitherto,
we had been.deyoied to each other; now the
real cares of life pressed upoir us so as often
really to absorb our energies. I was the first
to feel the cbauge. it seemed to me a* ;f
something was overshadowing us. Sometimes
I would get sentimental, and think he uid not
love me as he once did. As I look back now,
I am convinced that here was my first wrong
step. Indulgence in these moods weakened
my resolution. It was an injustice to him of
which I ought not to have been guilty. It
left me, too, with a weunded feeling, as if I
had been wronged, which began to aixect my
spirits.
"I had for some time carried about this
little sore spot in my heart. I kept the matter
all to myself, for X was in part ashamed and
in part too proud to speak of it. Here was
another w*rong step. There is no security of
happiness in married life, but ju the most per
fect confidence.
44 There came a season of damp, chilly
weather. One morning I got up very irrita
ble. I had taken cold; my head ached, and
my baby had been worrisome during the night.
Iu my kitchen I had a cross, ignorant servant
girl; and on this particular morning she had
done her very worst for breakfast. The beef
steak was burned to a cinder, the eggs were
like bullets, the bread was half baked, and
the coffee, which was our main stay, was ex
ecrable. My husband was very patient with
all this, until he came to the coffe, and said in
a half vexed tone?
" *1 do wish, we could ever have any good
coffee, Annette. Why cannot you make it as
mother does?'
" This was a drop to much for me, and I
boiled over.
" ' \ ou never think anything on our table
fit to be eaten,' said I, and I almost started
at the sound of my own voice, 'you had better
live at home if you are not satisfied, or else
provide me with decent servants. I cannot
e ei \ thinQ take care of my baby all night,
and g?t the breakfast too.'
' I did not know before that I was so very
unreasonable,' said he, in a tone of injured
feeling. ~
44 He sat a few moments, then rose, left his
untasted breakfast, put on his hat and went
off. When I heard door shut behind 1dm,
all my temper leit me. I went into my room,
]ock'?d myself in, sat down and cried like a
child. This was the fist cross u-ord I had
ever spoken to my husband. It seemed to me
as if iomo sudden calamity had befallen us.
I worked myself up to such a pitch of feeling,
t?:at I walked about the room wriujnucr
hands. ? J
" 4 0, it is all over vith us,' thought I; 'we
shall never be happy together again in' thi3
world.' ^ This thought Made me unspeakably
miserable. 1 felt as if a black pall had fallen
aiound me, and in the iuture there was only
darkness. In my misery I sought to comfort
my^ell by blaming him. 'lie need not have
spoken so to me, at m?y rate,' said I, out loud;
' he might have see:i how I felt; it was too
much lor any one tw. bear. It really was uot
a bit kind in him. It is plain enough he does
not care for my comfort as he once did. Then
to be always telling mo what nice things his
mother cooks, when he knows I am trying to
do my very best to learn to please iiim it is
really to bad.'
*? ' Don't look so dreadfully sober, Kate '
My baby cried just here, aud I had to run be
tore I was through with my catalogue of
grievances; yet I had gone far enough to get
w^il on the wrong.track again. I began to
culm myself with Ihe reflection that, if there
had been a great Wrong done, I was not the
only one to blame for it. I was dreadfully
sorry that I had spoken cross to him, but I
thought he ougkt to be sorry, too. Before
my baby had finished crying, I came to the
conclusion that 1 would exhibit no signs of
penitence until I saw some in him.
"So I bat lied my face, that no traces of
tears might remaiu, dressed myself with un
usual c ?re, and went down to Old Budget to
give some very particular directions about the
<i inner. I aid this with a martyr-like spirit
J meant to try my best to make him sorry for
his ii justice. 1 FesolveU to reproach him with
a firsi-rate dinner, good as his mother could
cook To whet the edge of my delicate re
proach, I raude, with my own hands, a most
excellent cup oi cohce.
?? One o'clock came at last, though I tli ui^lit
it nevt-r would : the door opened, and I heard
a s quick step in the ha 1. Of all things in
this world, he was whistling! He came to
the fabie with a bright face, from which every
trace of the morning's cloud had disappeared
and as he sat down he looked around with a
pleased expression.
" 4 *v hy, Annette,' said he, ' what a nice
dinner.
I am glad you are pleased,' said I, in a
subdued tone.
, V 'Capita1,' said he, 'the best roast we have
nad this season.'
" He was so much taken up with my deli
cate reproofs as not to notice that I was out of
spirits. 1 was halt pleased and half provoked ?
but 1 kept rather still, making little conversa
tion excepting in reply to him.
After dessert 1 handed him his cup of
coffee. He was astonished. 'Why, Annette/
said he, ' I do believe you weut to work to
day to see what you could do.'
" lie had hit the truth, though without the
least suspicion of the cause. My first impulse
was to be honest and cut with it by replying
' is it as good as your mother makes ?' This
would have given him the key to the whole
story-?he would have ferreted it all out and
we should have fcettled it there; but I felt
ashamed to. I sipped my coffee in silence.
i'ie golden moments passed, and my good
angel took iis flight?pride had the day I
even began to be vexed at his enjoying a ~ood
dinner so much, and so easily forgetting what
had caused me so much suffering. He was very
busy on that day, and did not stay with me as
long as usual to chat, but went off whistling
even more cheerily than whea h? came.
"I went up into tVe nursery and sat down
to think it over. Baby was asleep ; the rain
was pattering against the windows, the wind
was rising, and to me the world looked drearv
enough. I had tired myself all out getting
up such a dinner, and now the excitement
was over, and 1 felt the re-action, 1 began to
ask myself what I had. got fer k. Just no
thing at all. My husband eilker did not or
would not see that there was anything to be
reconciled about. 1 blamed him for his in-1
sensibility. ' Once,' thought I, ?he would !
have noticed any change in my voice, or any I
shadow which came over my spirits: now i'
can really be cross to him and he does not i
mind it at all."
" I had a doleful afternoon of it. \ was
restless enough ; trying first one employment
and then another, but fiuding nothing which
would suit. 1 went down to tea, farther if
anything, from the right point than I had
been at noon. I sat dejected ^nd silent. My
husband tried once or twice to engage me in
conversation, without success."
" 'Annette,' said he at length, in a kind
tone, 'do you not feel well to day ?'"
" 'Not very,' said I, with a sigh."
"What is the matter V'
"My lioal aches; the baby kept me awake
almost all night."
"This was the truth, but only in part and I
felt guilty as I said it. Then* be begged me
to go and lie down on the sofa in the parlor;
and said he would read to me anvthin<r which
I would like to hear/'
" I felt that this was kind in him. It was
like old times: the new times, you see, had
been but a day, but to me it seemed very long;
yet it was not what I wanted. I wished to
have the trouble cleared away, not bridged
over; and I determined to hold out until it
should come to this, and he should see and
feel that I could not be made happy after a
cross word, without a scene of mutual con
trition and forgiveness ; so I would not stay
and be read to, but told him I must go to
bed. I left him in his easy chair, with his
study lamp, and bopk, an^ bright fire, inrcg
ular bachelor style, and went off into" the'
nursery, and then to bed, and cried myself to
sleep. You laugh, Kate, as if you thought I
was a fool. I think so myself, now."
"How did it all end, Annette ?"
" I held out a week, becoming every day
more sad and sulky, I may as well call it.
When 1 was left alone, I used to take my ba
by up and cry over hira, as if my husband
was dead, and the child was all I had left in
the world. Dear me ! how unhappy I was,
aud every day added to it. I would find
something in his conduct to pain me everv
time we met. Either he was too attentive,
or not attentive enough ; talked too much or
too little."
" He bore with my ill humor most patient
ly, thinking I was ill. One day he came
home, and told me he had obtained a week's
lea\e ol abseuce, aud had engnged a convey
ance, and I must fix up myself and baby, and
be ready to start off in an hour. He was go
ing to take me to my mother's. ' We may as
i well have a journey as pay doctor's bills, An
nette,' said lie, 'and as to having you droop
ing about in this style any longer, I am not
going to. We will send off old Bridget, lock
up our house, run away fiom all care, and
have some fun.' "
" He loooked up so kindly, I could have
fallen upon his neck and wept my heart out,
to think how ugly I had been; but there was
no time then to talk it over. I hurried away
to pack, but before I was half through with
the packing, I resolved that I would tell him
the whole story, from beginning to end. The
moment I came to this determination, the
load was gone : my heart seemed as light as
; a feather ; the expression of my countenance
i changed, and tue tones of my voice were
lignt and cheerful. I was conscious of it,
uud he noticed it as soon as I joined him at
the appointed hour."
" 4 Why, Annette,' said lie, 'getting ready
has cured you. We may as well stay at home
now.' "
'? That will do, Kate. The rest of the sto
ry will sound sentimental to a third party."
" No, no, Annette, that would be leaving
out the very cream of it. Tell rae how you
settled it."
"Weil, we rode on enjoying the change
until towards dark. Baby 'then fell' asleep.
It was a very quiet hour?everything about
it was beautiful and peaceful. Tears of real
penitence came into ray eyes, aud before I
knew it, they were dropping down upon the
baby. My husband turned and saw them."
" ' Why. Annette,' said he, with the ut
most surprise, ' what is the matter ?' "
" ' 0, I am so sorry,' said I."
" ' Sorry for what, love,' said he, 4 are you
not happy ? Does anything trouble you?' "
" ' 1 am so sorry,' said I, 'that I have been
so ugly this week.' "
" ' What do you mean ?' said he, looking
more and mor? puzzled."
" 'How can you help knowingV said I.
ihen I began at the beginning, and told the
whole story. How 1 rose feeling irritable,
and was provoked to speak the first cross
word; how he told me my things were not as
nice as his mother's, and went off vexed;
then how he got over it, and forgot all about
it, and wouid not help me to ieel good na
tured by saying he was sorry. How I had
brooded over it all the week?how it had fes
tered away in my heart and poisoned all my
enjoyments. What torrents of tears I had
shed when alone, as I thought it was all over
with us, and we never should love again as
we had once loved."
" He heard me through without making a
single remark, and then burst into a loud
laugh. ' I want to know Annette,' said he,
' if this is what ailed you all this week V "
" ' \es,' said I. Upon this he checked our
Dobbin and b^an to turn around."
" 'What are you going to do V said I."
" 'Going back,' said he, 'if this is all
which is the matter with you.' "
'?I laughed heartily as he did, for now my
sin was confessed, I felt happy ; but 1 pulled
the other refh, and drew the whip lash over
Dobbin s ears, and away he went like a bird
towards my mother s home."
" But we made a resolution then, Kate,
that if either had aught against the other, it
should be settled before the sun went down ;
that we might go to sleep, if rot 'at peace
with all the world,' at least with each other
iorgiving and forgiven. This resolution we
have faithfully kept, and I have never seen
another week of such misery as 1 have been
telling you about, and! trust 1 never shall.
1 hope you will find in your new relations,
Kate, all the enjoyment we now do. This is
the best wish I can offer you?and that your
first cross word may be your last."
? S.
It js a musical fact, that every orchestra
contains at least two musicians with musta
ches, one in spectacles, three with bald heads,
and one very modest man in a white cravat,
who, from force of circumstances, you will
observe, p'ays on a brass instrument.
SCISSORS ACT PASTE.
jm't pair t but I can draw" as the;
jfly said to Ae artist.
il cl;'.;Jrcn in Boston have been barf
r water brought from tlie river JordaiC
ian cultivates Irisiirtellectual faculties,
fjns to niistrust his instincts.
r<It lias been discovered that where a let of
boarders are fed upon sausages for some time,
they begin to growl.
" One of the rarities of life/' says Eliza
Cook, 44 is a woman thoroughly satisfied with
her daughter-in-law."
" Cornelius, how do you define a corn ?'*
" A corn?why, it is something which troubles
a man who gets tight in bis boots.
There is a club in New York called the
"Unknown Club," whose being, end, and aim
is to have a good time of it.
Why is a man ascending Vesuvius like an
Irishman trying to kiss a pretty girl ? Because
he wants to get at the crater's mouth.
If you wish to know how quick you can run
a mile, tell a read-headed woman that her
baby squints.
Youth may sometimes afford a lesson to
maturity. Ail horse pistols have been super
seded by the revolvers of a Colt.
A grave friend cf ours tells us that he and
his wife always go to bed quarreling. "And
yet," said he, "with ail our uiilerence, we
never lull out."
Affection, 11 ke spring flowers, breaks
through the most frozen ground at last: and
the heart that seeks but for another heart to
make it happy, v.-ill not seek in vain.
Definition: Snow, Winter's diessing gown.
Ice, the sheet of the rivers bed. Icicles, Na
ture's pendants, manufactured from the geius
of the purest water.
A Southern editor in giving an account of
some rascals who stole two horses belonging
to preachers at a camp meeting, says it should
teach clergymen to " watch as well as pray."
The popularity in politics is to see your
name in huge type posted to a fence. Some
body will inquire who you are, and when the
first lain comes you will disappear.
An Israelite in Boston was arrested for
working at his trade on Sunday. His defence
was that he observed the seventh day, and it
was deemed sulnoient.
/. member of the lazy society was complain
ed of last week, by another, for running. His
defence was, that he was going down hill, and
that it was more labor to walk than run.
They "let him slide."
The Toledo Blade tells the story of a chap
on their road, who, apprehending a collision
of the cars, put his life preserver on, and
leaning back against the side of the car, re
signed himself to his fate.
A person meeting an old man with silver
hairs, and a very black, bushy beard, asked
him " how it happened that his beard was not
so gray as the hair of his head?" "Because,"
said the old gentleman, " it is tu cnty years
younger'!"
"Gentlemen and ladies," said the show
man, " here you have a magnificent picture
cf Daniel in the lion's den. Daniel csn easily
be distinguished from the lions by the grecu
cotton umbrella under Lis left arm."
"Are you in fun cr in earnest?" said a
fellow to one who w;.s giving him some smart
cuts wiih a cow-skin.
44 I'm in earnest," replied the other, laying
it on some what harder.
" I'm glad of it," said the first one, "for I
don't like such fun."
A lady paying a visit to her daughter, who
was a young widow, asked why she wore the
widow's garb ho long. "Dear mamma, don't
you see,'* replied the daughter: 44 it saves me
the expense of advertising for a husband, as
every one can see I ant for sale by private
ct;ntr?nct."
A dandy lawyer remarked, one summer day,
that the weather was so extensively hot that
when he put his head in a basin it fairly boil
ed. 44 Then, sir," w as the reply, 44 you have
calf's head soup at very little expense."
A book was printed during the time of
Cromwell, with the following title : 44 Eggs
and Charity, laid by the Chickens of the Cov
enant, and boiled with the Water of Divine
Love?Take ve and eat."
??
AYhen the venerable Pebbles Worthy was
in New York, he asked a pipe-smoking old
Dutchman the origin of the name of Tamma
ny Hall. 44 Vy, you see," said Hans, "ven
the heebies has a meeting in the liall, it holds
tam many I"
A prudent man advised hi? drunken servant
to put by his money for a rainy day. In a
few weeks the master inquired how much of
his wages he had saved. 44 Faith, none at all,''
said, 44 it rained yesterday, and it all went."
The young man whose ambition towered so
high that he would not follow his father's
profession upon any consideration, finally ob
tained a situation commensurate with his tal
ent?that of grinding a street organ for a
dancing monkey. Genius will triumph.
A certain Judge, rather elevated with the
juice of the grape, entered a barber's shop to
get shaved: After the business was aecotn
plish^d he tendered the barbt-r a sixpence for
his labor, who took it and returned three cents
change.
44 How is this ?" exclaimed his honor, "you
have always charged me sixpence for shaving
and here you have taken out but three centa. '
44 True," replied the barber, 44 but this timi
you were half shaved when you came in."
Rewaud of Merit.?44 Sam," said one little
urchin to another, 44 does your achool mat
ter ever give you any reward of merit V*
44 I t'pose he does," was the rejoinder ;
44 he gives mca lickin' regularly every day,
and snvs I merit two !"
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