The Southern journal., July 15, 1845, Image 1

About The Southern journal. (Monticello, Miss.) 184?-18??

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f THE SOUTHERN JOURNAL.
L HY COHEA & GOUVENEAUX.] MONTICELLO, MISSISSIPPI, JULY 15, 1845. j^VOL. VI.—NO. 1
iwBsm
IS PUBLISIID EVERY TUESDAY EVENING
BY G. J. COIIEA & C. GOUVENEACX.
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From the Saturday Courier.
| Life.
•
Life is onward: use it
Willi a forward aim;
Toil is heavenly—choose it,
And its warfare claim.
Look not to another
To perform your will;
Let not your own brother
Keep your warm hand still.
Life is onward: never
Look upon the past;
Jt would hold you ever
In its clutches fast.
Now is your dominion;
Weave it us you please;
Bind not the soul’s pinion
To a bed of ease.
i
v Life is onward : try it,
Lrc the day is lost;
It hath virtue—buy it,
At whatever cost.
If the world should offer
Every precious gem,
Look not at the scoffer,
Change it not for them.
Life is onward: heed it,
In each varied dress;
Your own act can speed it
On to happiness.
Ills bright pinion o’er you
Time waives not in vain,
If Hope chaunt before you,
Her prophetic strain.
Life is onward: prize it,
In sunshine and in storm;
^ Oli! do not despise it
In its humblest form,
jfa Hope and Joy together,
* Standing at the goal,
Through life’s darkest weather,
Beckon on the soul. tiara.
From Noah's Times.
Gen. Joseph Warren.
“Warren and Bunker Hill,” fifty years
ago, was a common expression. The bra
vest man on Bunker Hill was Joseph War
ren. He was horn in the town of Roxbury.
Mass., in the year 1740. Roxbury bounds
Boston, and is a beautiful place so far as
natun is concerned. When he had attain
cd lus I full year (1755) he entered college.
While there, he gained a name for fearless
-courage and almost superhuman persever*
ance. Some of his college exploits arc
related, in an old book printed in 1788,
with apparent glee, by the writer. It was
Warren’s plan to glue nutshells to the cats’
feet, and send the curiously shodden ani
mals to the rooms of the tutors. He would
also get out of the building at forbidden
hours, by tying the sheets, in the dormito«
rics, together, and thus making a rope by
^ . which he could (with his companions) get
I -»m
through a window and reach the ground j
unharmed. The chambermaid was bribed
to say nothing about the knots and wrin
'Wes in the linen under her charge. Ail j
the shaving cups, and other pieces of
crockery .ware adorned by handles, were
frequently gathered together by Warren,
tied in a bunch, and hanged over the door
of tho principal professor’s room in such a
manner, that when that personage .sought
egress, the suspended articles would come
clattering to the ground, disturbing and
alarming, with tho horrid din, the whole
college population. More than once his
room-mates found their shoes nailed to the
floor, and “many a time and oft” a com
munity of frogs were turned from a snug
resting-place in his companion’s best coat
pockets. Once or twice evening lectures
were proposed; but they were abandoned,
for no sooner did the exercises commence
than halt a dezen owls were loosened to
dash at the lights and extinguish them.—
The task of earthing and deliberating these
I birds was Warren’s.
Notwithstanding these wild pranks, he
was esteemed a youngster of fine talents,
llis.gcncrous deportment and suavity of
manners gained him the respect of all with
whom lie came in contact. Ilis fearless
I ness and courage are illustrated by another
j college anecdote, of which, no doubt, a
number of our readers have had an inkling.
The anecdote runs thus:—
Several ol his class-mates were desirous
ol arranging some college business in a
manner directly opposed to his wishes.—
To do this without interference from him,
lltOV dint lltnmeol roe itn -i«« n rnr.ivi n,1
i 1 —
I carefully barred the door, lie could not
obtain entrance without doing great vio
lence. lie was determined to get among
them, however, and culled out—
“Friends, admit me!”
“Our business is private,” was the re
ply.
“I must have something to say about it,”
shouted Warren.
“So you shall have all to say about it if
I you can, without forcing the door, obtain
j an entrance.”
“Enough,” said Warren—“I will be
; there.”
lie looked around, and discovered that
the window of I he room was open. Further
examination showed him a water pipe or
spout, which ran, near the window, from
the roof of the building to the bottom. Ido
ascended to the roof, gently let himself
! down to the eaves, gained the spout, des*
j cended to the window, and threw himself,
| to their astonishment, among the council.
I The spout was decayed, and htjfl its posi
tion by a very weak tenure. -Just as his
feet touched the floor, the spout fell clat
tering to the ground. lie looked at it an
instant,and, saying, “It did not fall until it
had served my purpose,” turned to claim
. 'ho right of participating in their delibcra
i tions. In this instance, the determination
\ and courage that clung to him through life
! were beautifully illustrated.
In 1750, he received his first degree.—
14„ 1 I.: ._ .! . ...
- ~ w ~ \SJ UlVf O l IU I J
j of medicine, and was, a few years after,
| one of the most eminent physicians in Bos
S ton. But while giving his attention to the
! diseases which afflicted his fellow mortals,
| he was not unmindful of the cancer which
promised to cat up his country. The ill.
| ness of the body politic claimed much of
j his practice. Ilis zeal would not permit
him to avoid danger in a blessed cause.—
: The year that saw the commencement of
the stamp act witnessed his ascension to
the rostrum as a public speaker. lie also
employed his pen—a talented one—in writ
ing pamphlets against tho King and his
measures. From the beginning of the
stamp act to the breaking out of the war,
his eloquence and pen were well and ar
duously employed. He unhesitatingly de
nounced the tax imposed on the Colonies
by England as tho worst species of tyran
ny. To this tyranny he advised the stout.,
est resistance. He publicly proclaimed
that America was able to resist, success
fully, any force that might bp sent to sub
jugate her; and these spirited and deter
mined movements of his confirmed many
individuals who were wavering and un
decided as to the course they ought to pur
sue, in taking up ^rms against monarchial
oppression.
Warren was impetuous, zealous, and
favorable to effective and forcible measures;
but he was, withal, circumspect, prudent
and wise. He saw clearly nnd quick in a
moment, and was for acting upon what
he saw on the instant, and without de*.
lay.
In the year 1768, the first caucus, or
secret political assemblage, that ever met
in this country, was formed in Boston, and
of this caucus (which exercised an almost
inconceivable influence over the country
and its political concerns) our hero was a
prpminent member. All the plans of de
fence were matured and devised by this
assemblage. Warren, it is said, was one
of the “Indians” who destroyed the tea in
Boston harbor. After the formation of the
•‘tea party,” the existence of the caucus
was made public. Warren was then cho
sen the public orator of the town, and he
proved himself a Demosthenes and a Cice
ro combined. On the anniversary of “The
Massacre,” he spoke twice, exhibiting in
hisaddresscs the energy of a gigantic and
daring mind.
“It was he,” [Warren] says the oldest
revolutionary biographer in print, “who,
on the evening before the battle of Lex
j ington, obtained information of the intend
i ed expedition against Concord, and at ten
1 o’clock that night dispatched an express
! (the first express run in the country, we
‘guess,’) to Messrs. Hancock and Adams,
who were at Lexington, to warn them of
their danger. Thus our hero controlled
the first battle fought for American Inde
pendence! On the next day, the memora
I Me 19lh of April, (which now comes and
! gees disregarded) Warren was very active,
j Gen. Ilcatli, in his memoirs, states that on
i that day a ball took off a lock of Warren’s
j hair, just by the car. The army soon as
sembled at Cambridge in a very confused
state. Warren went among the soldiers
and regulated them—instilling a system
of discipline which had the effect of pre
serving the utmost order. Hancock soon
went to Congress, and Warren was there
upon made President of the Provincial Con
gress in his place. lie was made Major
General, and received his commission four
days before tbc battle of Bunker’s (or
Breed’s) Hill. Upon this fatal (to him)
I spot, when the entrenchments were made,
he went among the men ns a volunteer,
and encouraged them within the lines.—
He fought with them on the 17th of June,
and just as the retreat commenced was
shot in the head, fell in the trendies, and
there yielded up his spirit to the God who
gave it. He died at the age of 35. lie
seems to have been the first in every thing.
He died, the first victim of rank, in the
struggle between America and Great Bri
tain. lie had been a freemason, the Grand
Master in America—consequently, when
in 177(5 his remains were taked up and en
! tombed in the city of Boston, a mason de
; livered a funeral eulogy,
j Ilis loss was poignantly felt. It was
j universally regretted that lie courted a post
of danger, at a time when the benefit of
his counsel would have aided the cause for
which he was sacrificed.
GPorlinnc ^ o*n'c f lin /wwnnilm- />f LiT I .,.
| of the Departed Heroes, Sages and States
men of America,” ‘ his fall was useful to
his country as it was glorious to himself.
His death served to adorn the cause for
which he contended, excited emulation,
and gave a pledge of perseverance and ul
timate success. In the grand sacrifice,
which anew nation was that day to celeb
rate in the face of the world, to prove tliei:
sincerity to Heaven, whoso providence
they had invoked, the noblest victim was
the m«st suitable sacrifice.
“There are few names in the annals of
American patriotism more dearly cherish
ed by the brave and good—few that will
shine with more increasing lustre, as the
obscurity of time grows darker, than that
of Cion. Warren. He will be the personal
representative of those brave citizens, who,
with arms hastily collected, sprang from
their peaceful homes to resist aggression,
and the plains of Lexington and the heights
of Charlestown, cemented with their blood
the foundation of American liberty.
“He was endowed with a clear and vie
o
orous understanding, a disposition humane
and generous—qualities which, graced by
manners affable and engaging, rendered
him the idol of the army and of his friends.
His powers of speech and reasoning coins
mended respect. His professional, as well
as political, abilities were of the highest
order. He had been an active volunteer
in several skirmishes which had occurred
since the commencement of hostilities, in
all of which ho gave strong presages of
capacity and distinction in the profession
oParms. But the fond hopes of his country
were to be closed in death; not, however,
until he had sealed with his blood the char*
ter of our liberties, not until he had se
cured that permunonce of glory with which
we encircle the memory, whilst we cherish
the name of Warren.
“The battle of Bunker’s Hill was, in
many respects one of the most remarkable
conflicts that has moistened the earth with
human blood. No spirit of prophecy is
required to foretell, that from the conse
quences with which it is connected, and
which it may be said to have guaranteed,
after ages will consider it one of the most
interesting of all battles; and that it will
be hallowed by the gratitude of mankind,
as among the most precious and beneficent
contests, ever waged in behalf of human
rights and human happiness.
“Dr. Warren published an oration in
1772 and qnother in 1775, commemorative
of the 5th of March, 1770.”
Gen. Warren’s sword, which he held in
the grasp of death, was, a few years ago,
in possession of one Mr. Daris, of Ply
mouth, Mass. An American sailor pur
chased it from the servant of the officer who
ivjuivit aiuiu mu ueau iiLiiiu ui me lanicnieu
patriot. Where it is now we cannot in
form our readers. If we mistake not, Con
gress lias it.
What does He do for a Living?
There is no phenomenon more striking
or more perplexing to those who look up
on the world in large cities, than to ob
serve how many there are about town who
seem to live well, but appear to do nothing
—men who are as it were exempt from the
toil of existence, and though without prop
erty that any one knows of, do still con
trive to make a gentlemanly appearance,
and have their full share of the good things
of the times—“Laskers in the sunbeam,”
as a cotemporary of the Boston Transcript
well remarks—not, like the Italian lazza
roni in filth and rags, but like gentlemen
of the first water in. broad cloth and white
kids daintily dressed, and sometimes “per*
fumed like a milliner.”
And how do they live, having no bank
accounts, as somebody else remarks of
them—“drawing no dividends—making no
deposites!” -‘All their wants,” says the
same authority, “appear to be supplied in
some occult and imperceptible manner—
tailors make no complaint of them—boot
makers or hatters trouble them with no
little bills—they look a sheriff’s officer
boldly in the face as they pass him, and
his eye glances with professional indiffer
ence over their dainty persons. How do
they get their living?”
Choosing A Wife.
Young men, a word in your car. When
you choose a wife, don’t be fascinated with
a dashing creature, fond of society, vain,
aristical, and showy in dress. You do not
want a doll or a coquette for a partner.—
Choose rather one of those retiring, mod
est, sensible girls, who have learned tode
ny themselves and possess some decided
character; but above all, seek for a good
disposition. A popular writer well ob
serves, that no trait of character is more
valuable in a female than the possession
of a sweet temper. Home can never., be
made happy without it. It is like the
flowers that spring up in our pathway, re
viving and cheering us. Let a man go
home at night, wearied and worn by the
toils of the day, and liovv soothing is a
word dictated by a good disposition. It is
a sunshine feeling upen his heart. lie is
happy, and the cares of life are forgotten.
A sweet temper has a soothing influence
over the minds ofa whole family. Where it
is found in the wife and mother, you may
observe kindness and love predominating
over the bad feelings ofa natural heart.—
Sometimes, kind wods and looks charac
terizc he children, & peace and love have
their dwelling there. Study to acquire
and retain a sweet temper. It is more
valuable than gold. It captivates more
than beauty, and to the close of life re*
tains all its freshness and power.
Nettle Bottom Ball.
BY “SOLITAUE.”
“Well itarc afactboys,” said Jim Sikes,
“that I premised lo tell you bow I cum to
get out in these Platte diggins, and I spec
ulate you mout as well have it at onst,
kase its bin troublin my conscience ama
zin’ to keep it kivered up. The afurr rai
sed jessy in Nettle Bottom, and old Sam
Stokes’ yell, when he swnr he’d ‘chaw me
up,’gives my meat a slight sprinklin ofa
ager whenever I think on it.
“You, see, thar wur a small town called
Equality, in lllinise that sonle speculators
started near Nettle Bottom, c6s thar wur a
spontaneous salt lick in the diggins and no
sooner did they get it a goin’ and build
some stores and groceries thar than they
wagon’d from Cincinnate and other up
stream villages, a pacel of fellers to attend
tbe shops, that looked as nice, all’ays, as
if they wur goin’ to meetin’ or on a court
in’frolic; and ‘salt their pictcrs,’ they
wur eternally pokin’ up their noses at us
boys of the Bottom. Well, they got up a
ball in the village, jest to introduce them
selves tu the gals round the neighborhood,
and invited a few on us to make a contrary
picter lo themselves, and so shine us out of
site by comparison. Arter that ball thur
w'an’t any thing talked on among the gals
but w hat nice fellers the clerks in Equali
[ ty wur and how nice and slick they wore
| their har’ and their shiny boots, and the
i way they siirrup’d down their trowsers.
j You could’nt go to see one on ’em that she
_.il. 1_ r.t ^11
■M/MIUII i vjiiv IV uuu ui iuuou luiiuns at jUU
and keep a talkin’ how slick they looked.
11 got to he perfect pizen to hear of, or see
the critters, and the boys got together at
j last to see what was lo be done—the thing
had grown perfectly alarinin.’ At last a
mcetin’was agreed on, down to old Jake
Sents.’
“On next Sunday night, instead taken’
the gals to mcetin’ whore they could see
these fellers, wc left ’em at home, and met
at Jake’s, and I am ot the opinion thur
was some congregated wrath there—whew!
wan,t they?
“II—II and sissors!” says Mike Jelt,
“let’s go down and lick the town, rite
strait!"
“No!” hollered Dick Buts, let’s kitch
these slick badges coinin’out of meetin’
and tare the hido and feathers off on ’em”
“Whyd—u ’em, what d’ye think, boys,’
busted in old Jake, ‘Iswar if they ain’t larnt
our gals to wear slam cushions; only this
mornin’ 1 caught my darter Sally puttin’
one on and tyin’ it round her. She tho’t
l was asleep, but I made the jade repudi
ate it and no mistake—quicker!"
“The boys look a drink on the occasion,
and Equality town was slumberin’, for a
short spell, over a con tiguous earthquake.
At last one of the boys proposed bcfoic we
! attack the town, that we should get up a
ball in the Bottom and jest out-shine the
town chaps, all to death, afore wc swallow
ed ’em. It was hard to j?in in to this i>rn.«
position, but the boys cum to it at last and
every feller started to put the affair agoin.’
“I had been a long spell hankerin’ arter
old Tom Jones’ darter, on the branch be
low the Bottom, and she was a critter good
for weak eyes—maybe she hadn’t a pair of
her own—well if they warn’t a brace of
moving light-houses. I wouldn’t say it—
there was no calculation, the extent of
handsomeness of the family that gal could
bring up around her, with a fellow like me
to look arter’em. Talk about graceful
ness, did you ever see a maple saplin mo,
yin’ with a south wind? It warn’t a crook
ed stick to compare to her, but her old
dad was awful. lie could jest lick any
tiling that said boo, in them diggins, out
swar salcn,and was as cross as a she bar
with cubs, lie had a little hankerin’ in
favor of these fellers in town too fur they
gin him him presents of powder to hunt
with, and he was precious fond of usin’
his shootin’ iron. 1 determin’d anyhow to
ask his darter, Botsy, to he my partner at
the Nettle Bottom Ball.
“Well, my sister Marth, made me a bran
new pair of buckskin trowsers to go in,
and rile my picter, ef she didn’t* put slir
rups to ’em to keep ’em down. She said
straps were the fashion and I should wear
’em. 1 jest felt with’em on as efl had
somethin’ pressin’ on me down—all my
joints wur so tight together, but Marth in
sisted, and I knew I could soon dance ’em
off, so I gin in, and started off to the branch
for Betsey Jones.
“When 1 arriv, the old feller wur siltin’
smokin’ arter his supper, and the younger
Jones wur sittin round table takin’ theirs,
A whappin big pan of mush stood rite in
the centre, and a large pan of milk beside
it, with lots of corn bread and butter, and
Betsey was helpin’ the youngsters, while
old Mrs. Jones sot by admirin’ the family
collection. Old Tom took a hard star’ at
me, and 1 kind a shook, but tho straps
stood it, and I recovered myself, and gin
him as gocod^as he sent, but I wur near
the door *nd ready trfbrcak irhe showed
fight.
“What the h-11 are you doin’ in disgise,'
says the old man—he swore dreadfully
—‘are you commin’ down here to steal?’
“I rilled up at that. Says I, efl wur
commin’ for such purposes, you’d be the
last I’d hunt up to steal off on.’
“You’r right,’ says he, I’djnake a hole
to light your innards, ef you ^id.’ And
the old savage chuckled. I meant because
he had nothing worth stealing,’ but his dar
ter, but he tho’t ’twas cos I was afear’d on
him.
“Well purty soon I gether’d up and told
him what f cum down fur and invited him
to cum up and take a drink and sec that
all went on rite. Betsey was in an aw*
way fur fear he wouldn’t consent. The
old Wan here spoke in favor of the
move, and old Tom thought of the heker
and gin in the measure. Off bounced
Betsy up a ladder into the second stnrr.
and one of the small gals with her to help
put on the fixups. 1 sot down in a cheer,
and fell a talkin’ at the ’oman. While
we wur chatin’away as nice as relations, I
could hear Betsy makin’ things stand round
above. The floor was only loose boards
kiver’d over wide joicc, and every step
made ’em shake and rattle like a small
hurricane. Old Tom smoked away and
the young ones at the table will hold a
spoonful of mush to thur mouths and look
at my straps, and then look at each other
j and snigger,’ till at last the old man seed
’em.
“Well, bv gun flints,’says he, ef you
ain’t makin’ a jessey
‘Jest at that moment, sometin’ gin way
above, and may I die, ef Betsy, without
any thing on yearth on her but one of those
starn cushions, didn’t drop rite through
the floor, and sot herself cushion and all
cochunk fat into the pan of mush! I jest
tho’t fur a second that heaven and yearth
had kissed each other, and squeezed me
between ’em. Betsey squealed like a
I ’scape pipe,—a spot of the mush had spat
tered on the old man’s face and burnt him,
and he swore dreadfully. I snatched up
the pan of milk and dashed it over Betsy
to cool her off,—the old ’oman knocked
mo sprawlin’ for doin’ it and away went
my straps. The young ones let out.a
scream, as if the infarnal pit had broke
aiiu 1 ujcai gm nan oi my niae to
have bee out of the old man’s reach.—
He did reach fur me, but 1 lent him one of
my half-lows, on the smeller, that spread
him, and maybe I didn’t leave sudden.' J
didn’t see the branch, but as 1 soused thro’
it, I heered Tom Jonos swar he’d 'chaw
me up"1 ef an inch big of me was found in
them diggins in the morn in.’
“I didn’t know for a spell whore I was
runnin,’ but hearing nutliin’ behind me I
slacked up, and jest considered whether it
was best to go home and get my traps
strait and leave, or go to the ball. Bein’
as I was a manager, I tho’t I’d go have a
peep through the window to see ef it cum
up to my expectations. While 1 was lookin’
at the boys goin’ it, one of’em spiod mo,
and they hauldme in, stood me afore the
fire, to dry and all hands got round, insist
tin’ on knowin’ what was the matter. I
ups and tells all about it. I never heard
such laffin,’ hollerin’ and screamin’ in all
my days.
“Jest then, my trowsers gin to feel the
lire and shrink up about an inch a minute,
and tho boys and gals kept it up so strong
lafiu’ at my scrape, and the pickle I
wur in that I gin to git riley, when all at
oust 1 seed one of the slick critters, from
town, rite in among ’em hollerin’ wus then
the loudest.
“Old Jones said he’d chaw me up, did
he?’says the town fellow, ‘ veil he all'ayt
keeps his word.’