The Southern journal., September 30, 1845, Image 1

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

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Til SOUTHERN JOURNAL.
MV *COHEA & GOUVENEAUX.] MONTICELLO, MISSISIPP1, SEPTEMBER 30. 1845. ' [V0L. Vi._NO. 13.
IS PUBLISH D EVERY TUESDAY EVENING
G. J. COIIEA A C. GOI VEXIUIX.
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, Unless otherwise previously directed, the
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terms of the subcsription.
teems or adveitis ing.
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companied with the CASH, or good referen
ces in town.
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Announcing candidates for State or District
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As the above rates are the same as those
established in Natchez, Vicksburg. Grand
Gulf, Yazoo City, and elsewhere in this stnte1
no deduction will be made from them in any
case whatever.
ALL JOB WORK MUST BE PAID FOR
ON DELIVERY.
g+f Letter? on business must be post paid I
or they w i 11 not be taken from the post office.
---- ■ ■_-•’3
' . Front the Saturday Post.
Tell me of Florida.
TO MRS. E. I’. R.
Lady thou hast been a pilgrim,
In the sunny Southern clime,
Thou hsat culled the peerless blossoms
Down her vullies many a time
Tell me o{ her waters lighted,
Through the swaying orange boughs,
While some bird in bending beauty,
Through the flood her pathway ploughs.
Or of hearts that keep their valor,
When amid the whirlwind’s sweep,
Moves the phosphorescent pallor,
Streaming in the stormy deep.
Of the old dismantled fortress,
Frowning by Saint Augustine,
With its wall of shells half hidden,
In a wilderness of green—
Whence of yore the warrior Spaniard,
Hurled upon the Bucanuier,
Through the battle’s deepening tempest,
Fiery dart and ponderous apear.
Tell me of ihc stately palm tree,
Towering o’er a world of woods,
Where delicious fruits are teeming,
And the fragrant gum exudes.
Ah! thy spirit is not joyous,
When it wanders silent there,
’.Mid those fairy bloomsnnd sunbeams,
Fearful visions start and glare.
Sudden sounds appal thy hearing.
Vengeful forms flit darkly by,
And above a bleeding victim,
Murder whoops resound on high.
Yes beneath the mossy verdure,
Lies thy darling treasure cold:
Flora’s mildest breath in music,
O’er him soothingly rolled.
Light, through emerald, green forever
Falls upon the peaceful bed,
And the sylpbides of the wildwood,
Round his pillow softly tread.
Be not sad, but kindly tell me,
Of the realm where thou hast known,
Light and darkness, joy and gladness,
All that to the post hath flown.
EDWARD.
A Fable.
•‘Father of men and beasts!” said the
Horse, approaching the throne of Jupiter,
“it is said of me, that 1 am one of the most
beautiful animals with which thou hast
adorned the world; and self love incites
me to believe the character just; yet in
some particulars, my appearance might ad
roit of improvement.”
“Of what kind? Inform me. I am wil
ling to receive instruction,” said the father
of all, and smiled.
”1 w^uld probably run better,” replied '
the steed, “if my legs were longer and more
slender; a neck likeaswnn would beinir*'
becoming; a wider chest would improve
my strength; and since thou hast ordained
me to carry the darling, mnn, rniglft 1 not
have a natur. 1 saddle growing upon my
buck, instead of that with which the well
meaning rider confines me!
“Havepatience,”resumed the God; and
with an awful voice, pronounced bis crea
tive word. Life darted into the dust, inert
m iller became alive; organized merabei.
were formed; ihey were joined in one
consistent body; and, before the throne,
arose—ihe hideous Camel! Thd^Iorse
shuddered, and shook with horror.
“See,” said Jupiter, “longer and more
slender legs; a neck like that of a swan;
and a large chest, and a natural saddle.—
Would you choose to have such a shape?”
The horse quaked with extreme aver
sion.
“Go,” continued the God, “take coun
sel Irom this event; be henceforth satisfied
with your condition; and, in older to re
mind you ot the warning you have now
received ?” go saying he cast on the Camel
a preserving look, “Live,” said he, “new
inhabitant of the world! and may the
Horse never see thee but with trembling
aversion!”
“All Cowards in the Dark.”
A medical fiiftnd nf nun. wlin.
years since, visited Paris under circum
stances most favorable to an entree to a
most interesting circle—that ol the survi
vors and ci-devant supporters of the “Em
pire,” tells a capital story, as be heard it
related by the celebrated General Excel*
mans, one of Napoleon’s paladins.
It was at a dinner party, composed of
some of the survivors of Waterloo, a few of
their younger relatives, and the scion of
an ex-king, on a visit from his home in
America, and to whom our friend owed his
introduction to the circle. Some questitfh
arose about bravery, when the younger
members of the company were electrified
to hear the venerable and heroic E.xcel
mans gravely and seriously declare, that
men were all cowards in the dark!
The General smiling at their expres
sions of dissent, remarked that it was “very
like youth,” and proceeded to tell the fol
lowing anecdote in support of his strange
declaration:
“There was a young hot-head in the
Emperor’s service, who, burning for action,
and his duties for the time affording no op
portunity, at last resolved to fight a duel,
and, accordingly^hocsing to construe some
remark or other of an old and superior offi
cer into an insult, challenged him
The old soldier, waiving ;ill consideration
of rank, agreed to meet the young man—
hut on the following unusual terms:
The time should be night, the place a
room, in oppoaite corners of w hich they
were to stand. The seconds, having pla*
moil ill' "J "OIK WlUIUl'in UUI91UO U
the dour, taking their candles with them.
The word should be given from without—
when he who hud the first fire should dis
charge his weapon, and the seconds bear
ing the light should immediately tush in
the room.
“These strange conditions were accept
ed, the time arrived, and the seconds pla
ced the parties as agreed upon; withdraw
ing immediately, and leaving their men m
the dark.
The word was given, the fire was heard,
the door was re-opened, and there stood
the elder of the two, bolt upright in the
corner, his .adversary’s ball having enter
Bd the wall so close to his head that
the escape seemed iittle less than mira
culous.
“It was now the old soldier’s turn to fire.
They were again left in the dark, the word
was again given from the outside, and, in
stantaneously with the discharge, the se
conds rushed in and found the challenger
prostrate upon the floor—not having yet
recovered himself from his trick t. avoid
the ball, which, on examination, it was
found, would have killed him.
“The young man was covered with con
fusion, and the seconds were overwhelm
ing him with the expression of their
scorn—when the veteran stopped them
short.
“Not so fast, my young friends, said be;
‘you will grow wiser. Where do you sup
pose i was at the first fi.et On inv hau ls
and knees in the corner; bin, ma foil I
was up quicker thin he! 1 if cu
Mrssieurt, ice are all covards tn the
dark/”
It was afterwards wh'ispeied to our
friend, that the story was an actual fact—
and that the elder of ihe parties was no
'■’her than the brave w.rtior Excelinans
himself.
A Dispute.
We were comfortably sii . ued in the
state. The horses were under way, when
a young man continued a conversauon
which it appeared that he had broken off
at the last stopping place.
“At any rate,” said he, “1 do rot be
lieve the story about Jonah swallowing the
whale.”
“And what is there so strange in that,
young man,” said an old deacon oa the op
posite seat.
“Strange, said the youth, it is absurd,
impossible.”
“You speak very confidently, sir, wiser
men than you have believed,” continued
the deacon, “and indeed why should not
that be true as well as any other part of the
good book T”
“I never saw tt in the good book!” said
the other. .
“Then I am sorry to say tint you are
very ignorant of your Bible, young mm—
and it seems to me that a person whrsb-.ws
such u lack of religious knowledge . ugh'
not to be so confident on su.-li a subject,’
and the old deacon looked at another very
sober gentleman who s^opposite to him, as
if for his approval.
The gentleman opened his mouth for the
first time, and said—
“I agree with ih* y oung man. I do not
believe it) that story either.”
The deacon looked thunderstruck and
he stammered out—“But sir—I thought
that you told me you w ere a member of the
church.”
“Yes sir, I am, and 1 believe everything
that is contained in the Bible.”
“1 beg your pardon, sir, but—”
“And I beg your’s, sir, but the young
man said he did not believe that Jonah
swallowed the whale.”
“Jonah swallowed—whale swallowed,”
said the deacon, bewildered. “Did you
not say, young man that you did not be'
lieve the whale swallowed Jonah?”
“Not at all—I said I did not believe Jo>
nah swallowed the whale.”
“Well, well,” said the deacon, “that al
ters the case, and I’m sure that I did not
know what you were talking about.”
Here the old gentleman opposite took a
pinch ofsnufT, and leisurely observed that
such was generally the case with religious
controversy: that [one party was talking
about ane thing, and the other party of ana*
ther. “Therefore,” said he, in conclusion,
“1 very seldom engage in religious discus
sions, more especially do! avoid them when
travelling in a stage.” - #
'Pkn flannnn IooIiaiI •• |U» na,. I * a »•> — a.*.
if he intended to kn"w him when he
saw him again, and the young man went
to sleep.
Moral Courage.
Have the courage to face a difficulty,
lest it kick you harder than you bargained
tor. Difficulties, like thieves, often disap
pear at a glance.
Hava the courage to leave a convivial
party at a proper hour tor doing so, how
ever great the sacrifice; and to stay away
from one, upon the slightest groum.s tor
objection, however great the temptation
to go.
Have the courage to do without that
which you do not need, however much you
may admire it.
Have the courage to speak your mind
when it is necesssry that you should do so, i
and hold your tongue when it is beiter that i
you should he silent.
Have the courage to speak to a poor i
friend in a seedy coat, even in th« street, i
and when a rich one is nigh. Theeffiirii* |
less than many people take il to he, and ihe <
ict is worthy a king. i
Have the courage to admit that you have i
Seen in the wrong, and you will rimovi t
the fact from the mines of others, pulling a c
iesirable impression til ine place of an un
arorable one
Have the courage to adhere to the first
-es ' iition when you cannot change it lor
•e er; nnd to abandon it ut >be eleventh
hour, upon conviction.
Have 'he courage to cut the mog* agree
able acquaintance you possess when he
convinces you that he lacks principles. “A
friend should bear with a friend’s infirmi
ties”—not his vices.
Have the courage to wear thick boots in
winter, and to insist upon your wife and
daughters doing the like.
Have the Courage to thrust your legs be
tween the sheets in cold weather; and to
shave before breakfast.
A Woman’s Revenge.
It was a bright, glad day in spring, and
Broadway was alive with gaily and bustle.
A stranger who had been crossing the great
thoroughfare at noon, somewhere about the
corner of Murray street, would have won
dered what object it could be the othet
side of the way that was disturbing the
v. hole street; and without exactly drawing
a crowd, whs attracting every body’s atten
tion, and making gentlemen seek an ex
cuse for stopping and looking back, and
almost envy the humble wayfarers who
were privileged to be urgenieel* A den
izen of New York, however, who had on
ly heard of the coiam it ion, would at once
have known that it must have been Miss
Kaye stepping from her carriage into the
store of her j -welter. ller doe-colored
•drriage, oba'ruc.ed by a crown of equipa
ges which sto >d in front of 'Penny’s had
drawn up some doors off, and in order to
reach the place, she, whose pearly shoe
not often touched the pavement, was
once compelled to witch the world with no
ble walking. Tne instant her blue-and
white liveries were seen opening the door
nod rattling the steps down, a simultan
eous impression seemed to be produced
UllOn illA f* l*f>IA H I tvn Q !< ti t*»i-m rw alnn
• o »
the sidewalk; t'n v drew buck on ail sides,
a kind ol avenue was formed, and she
stepped forwaid, alone, with a magnificent
elastic irtad, as if ilie earth yielded be
neath her feet. Fortunately, at that very
spot, a bore held me by the button. (Am
iable bore! F palled him when we parted;
and for the first time in my life recognized
why a ben'ficeni Providence had created
bores that held people by the button.) 1
gazed with a delight almost awed into
homage. Majesty softened into delicious
beauty—grandeur of attitude and feature,
made lovely by a pervading spirit ofsweet
ness and sympathy—produced in her a
union that charmed you ere you could ad
mire. I dare say it will seem an odd
thing to say, but there is nothing that has
sinew reminded me so much ofihe itnpies
sion she then produced upon the eye, as
the bright fountain in the Park! there was
in her 'he same easy, I may say reluctant
magnificence; the splendid purity and soft
sparkle; combined with such an entire un
restraint and abandonment of effort, that
you felt as if in that form and motion the
very essence of grace were made palpable
before your eyes, and as it that variety of
movement was the wantonness nfa nature
that strove to, but could not, escape
escape from its perpetual doom of ele
gance. Startled back, in spite of myself,
into the age of poetry and goddesses, ]
thought straightway of the apparation ol
Venus to the Trojan by the wooden margin
of the Tyrian city, and was beginning to
fall into my old tunes and Latin; but I felt
soon, in truth, 1 was below the mark, and
that there stood before me something of a
truer dignity and inppressiotfthau all then
goddesses together. 1 mean a delicate,
pure high suuled woman. I tonfess,
while she was at a distance from me,
ind I had but a glimpse of her, l felt a per-1
tain flutter about my heart; but as she
;atne near me, that faded away, and yield
id to a prolound and distant reverence; I
last down my eyes and lilted them only as <
he vanished through the door of the shop
Miss Kaye's parents were both dead, '
itul she was the sole mistress of one of '
he largest fortunes in New York. Her t
if.t winter in company had been conclu
ded b> the armouticmeni of her engage* '
nent to ftlr* Hanbury;a man of high fash
on, possessing undoubted superior po>v- t
rs, great cui-iva ton, and immense res .ur- t
es of manner Men who knew Mr-Han t
nry, were surprised at her chou-e; and It
hose wuvknew aud valued her, regretted t
it note little, for they deerneu non a thor
ough wt^iing, whose principles and sen
timents were such ns a life of liberlinage
on the continent was ltk> ly to produce, and
whose purposeaVcre utter ly selfish and
base.
Such indeed, or worse, he really was,
but the truth is, the most intelligent wo
man is no judge of a man who pays her
it.ention. Miss Kave did not know the
nature of that man. so perfect was his art
md dissimulation. She ndmired and es
teemed him, and in the prospect that was
before her, was ns hnppv ns the highest
hopes and the kindest men1 ions on her
part could make her. it. was in reference
to some arrangements relating to that ex
pected event that she had gone into Ten
ny’s with her beaming face full of pleas*
ml ness and life, whet, her at'eution was
caught by the voice of Mi. tlanhury, vho,
in company with another person, was stan
ding with his hack towards her, leant g
igain-t the frame of the glass, in earnest
conversation. Neither perceived IViiss
Kaye,although she approached within
hearing distance of them.
“I marry her only for her ganney,” said
lie, almost in a whisper, hut loud enough
for her to overhear his words distinctly,
“and within arn< iiih afterwards shall go to
Paris alone."
Miss Kaye left the store immediately un
perceived by them both.
It yvas fortunate tor her that in the inter
val ot her absence, her carriage had drawn
up immediately in front of the shop door,
or she must have fallen on the pavement.
As it was, with a dialed head, she tottered
forwards, and the servant who stood there
caught her in her hands, ■sherallied with
a powerful effort, ana saying to (he foot
man in a faint voice—‘Home!’got into tl.e
vehicle. One who hud seen those pale,
shrunken, trembling features—the fixed,
glaring eye, the withered lin, the distortion
and deadly agony, ot the whole face,could
not have recognized the glorious counter*
ance from which a moment before, [rower
and hope had looked so majesiiealiv forth
1'he footman seeing his nnsiress waa ill,
ordered the coachman to drive with the ut
most rapidity, and in a few minutes Miss
Ka^e was at her house. He opened the
carriage door nnnieda'elv, and seeing his
mistress tliow herself out before the steps
were down, the honest fellow caught her
in his arms and carried her all the way in>
to drawing room. He placed a chair and
handed her a tumbler of water.
In a few minutes her physical weakness
was conquered. Mis Kaye rose and walk
ed into her chamber, summoning all the
determination and energies of her nature,
sat down to consider her course.
It was ai^intcnse and awful struggle
which wrung her spirits. The quick stern
working of her lip, the flush ot her cheek,
ihe flashing ol her eye, told with what
strength her pupose was developing.
‘He shall feel his basenessV’ she mut>
tered to herself.
On the following morning she sat alone
in the drawing room, when Mr. Hanbury
came in. Orders had been given to ad'
rnit no other person.
‘Do you tliitiK,’ said she, as soon as he
was seated, filing upon him thut dark eye
which burned with the keenest and loftiest
fires of moral indignation and intellectual
contempt, ‘that there are men in the world
wholly destitute of soul?’
Her manner was much controlled and
her voice calm; yet, in despite of effort,
her tone vibrated with a searching sharp
ness of sarcasm which astonished Mr.
Hanbury *nd agitated him not a little.—
The consciousness of what his deserving
was in respect to her, came upon him with
i blind, formless fear, that shook his spirits
o the foundation. m
He answered not knowing what she
:ould be meaning:
“There are pet.sons, I think, who, if
hey ever hud so ils, have succeeded in
vearing all traees of them out of them-*
elves.’
She rose and stood hefo e rhe table on
he opposite side of uhi'-h he set.
“ill - re linen in uhed, sir! outraged
ti-oiigii every foeong of mv nature. Iain
solitary and undefended woman; proiec'
t'd only by ^m.iiienis of honor that
wells in the im-m u everv gentleman, i
hose feeling of common humanity which •
are acknowledged by every haw. I have
found but one person utterly insensible *o
those impressions—yourself! 1 am aware
of ihe motive which led you to solicit my
hand. 1 was a listener to your conversa
tion in which your nature displayed itself
without a mask. *■/mar y her only for
her money. Within a month after war do
I go to Parit atone." The only revenge
I have to take is* to make you 'eel the ut
ter paltriness of yourcharacter, by show
ing you the immeasurable difference be*
tween your views and mine. You shall
learn the true dignity of such sentiments
■s yours, by seeing ihe unutterable differ
ence in which I hold these things which
you thould esteem above all, then part fol
ever. On this table are deeds conveying
to you one half of my estate, from which
you may Extract that money for which you
have been willing to encumber, though on
ly for a month, it seems—with a wife_
In accordance with a form which has been
pointed out to me, I here deliver them to
your exclusive use. Enjoy that money :
and remember while doingso, that you owe
that enjoyment to the intense contempts
woman feels for you, and tot that remem
brance cause you to be ever companioned
in your secret sou! by your own utter con*
tempt for yourself.” *
She retreated into the adjoining room;
waiving her hand asshe disappeared she
said,
‘You may retire sir.”
Mr. Hanbury sat for a moment, over
whelmed with dismay and shame, he then
dashed the papers on the floor snd hasten
ed out ot the house.
rrum iiiai oiow ne never recovered. In
spi'e of every effort he .made to make heed
in his own mind against the sense of self
contempt, and the consciousness of the
thorough baseness of his principles, noth
ing could stand against the remembered
look and glance of that woman. He felt
like a detected felon. He never could en
dure to see her again. The confidence
with which he had pursued his former ca
reer was struck down forever. He withs
irew from society, and giving himself up
to the owest occupations of what is called
pleasure, has sunk into u’ter worthlessness,
despised alike by li'insetf and others.
The Mourner.
Never is the pre-eminent valueof friends
more profoundly felt than in the ago
ny occasioned by their loss. By nomeuns
•tan the worth be more fully p>oved than
by the unfeigned regret with which all char
acters and tempers mourn every social be.
reavement, All other misfortunes, pecu
niary losses, worldly disappointments bod
ily infirmities, severe as they may be, are
feathers in the scale, when weighhed a
gainst the sterling worth of faithfui friends
and beloved relatives.—Wealth may bea
gain accumulated, worldly disappointments
be recompensed, pain and sickness may be
ameliorated or removed; but ‘where is that
Promethean heat that can 'he light of life
resume,” and give back to the sorrowing
breast the lost friend or restive, than can
supply their place to the bereaved mourn.
erT We have only to make the uncured,
incurable, anguish of the wife, the mother,
thft friftnrt. kit* _i_ . _
' V -OUIW
rowing over the memory of the lost hus«
band, child companion, to feel the vast
worth of the tie so prematurely snapped'.—
If sneh be the melancholy but powerful
evidence of ih»blessings of social attach
ment, let those yet luxriating in multiplied
claims feel the full value of their fate, and
gratefully enjoy, whilst they can, their en
viable sources of felicity.
Witty Reply.—\ noble lord asked a
clergyman once, at the bottom of kis table,
“Why the goose, if there was one, wasal
ways placed next to the parson f”
“Really,” said he, “I can give no rea
son for it; but your question is so odd_
that 1 shall never see a goose again with
out thinking of your lordship.”
The Time to Bluth.—1‘‘Blush not now,”
laid ■ distinguished Italian to his young
■elative, whom he tnet issuing from a haunt
>f vice—“you should have blushad when
mu wqnt in.” the heart alone is sale
vhich shrinks from the slightest contact
>r conception of evil, and waits not to in
|uire what the world will say.