Southern sentinel. [volume], August 29, 1857, Image 1

About Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858

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VOLUME X.
PLAQUEMINE. PARISH OF IBERVILLE, LA., AUGUST
1 Q r.ry
I O'J i .
NUMBER 4.
vu bushed every sat'rday »0kmäo by
WILLIAM P. HABBfRN.
»•Office on JVin sdtel-"
TEBf.
SUBSCRIPTION—Five ollars per annum—
duo and payable at the lime i»abscitog.
ADVERTISEMENTS «4 he iferted at the
rate of One Dollar per (square^ 'en lirtior les») for the
first, and Fifty Cents for evof nbseqiat iDsertion. \
liberal discount, bawever, on es e ratarill be made on
advertisement« iuserted fora' lea^tbof time,
ANNOUNCING CANDJATES -Ten Dollars
Ar all offices, in each languœ— iüvariiHy iu advance.
OBITUARY NOTICES, ;t exceeding three or
four liaes, will be cheerfuflnserteil fitliout charge;
but those of greater length * be ciiupd aaadfertise
mail ta.
JOB WORK—Cash on fyieiy.
SPECIAL NC1CEÜ,
The privilege of yearly advaper» is stactly limited to
their own immediate and regulibosines; andthebusi
uees of an advertising firm is ncousidcrtd as iucluuiu^
that of its individual members.
Merchants or others advertis^y the ytar will only be
allowed the space of a half colin in the paper, at the
rates at present charged them bjns paper.
Calls on persons to become eaBdates wijbe inserted as
other advertisement».
Advertisements of two colnmnwidtli Bill be charged
treble the usual rates.
Advertisements not marked otte copy for a specified
une will be iuserted till forbid, atpajmeMexacted.
And finally—All communicatiotforthis paper, of any
»Bd every character whatsoever, »ended to promote the
private ends or interests of indtvii.ils, corporations, so
cieties or schools, will be chargediadrertisemeuts
THE BKIEIXESS BBB1S1EB.
BV JOHN G. «IE.
An attorney was takingtturn,
In shabby habiliments test;
His coat it was shocking! worn,
And the rust had invesid his vest.
His breeches had suffered breach,
His linen and worsted wre worse;
lie had scarce a whole crwn in hi«'hat,
And not half a crown in us pur««.
And thus as he wandered amg,
A cheerless and comiortlss elf,
le sought for relief in a soi*,
Or complainingly talkeda himstlf.
"mfortunate man that I an!
^ve never a client but gréf;
1 hcase is, I've no case atill,
Ad in briel, I have ne'erkad a brief !
''I'viwaited and waited in win,
['■•ectiug an opening to fed,
c i M honest yomg îawjer might gain
-om reward for the toil of his mind.
'Tis ii^I'm wanting inlaw,
* >T ,a J an intelligent face,
uri °i ^ aVe Cases ,0
Wbile have to plead for acase ;
Oh. bow. an a modest yotuf man
k, er noifor the smallest progression—
Âr Ç r . «iready so full
Of lawye, so j u ]] 0 f profession P
\V bile he w» S ] ro )|j n „ ar0UB( i
Hie eye acOenlally felt
On a very de*h 0 | e in the groond.
And he sight to himself, "It is well !"
To curb his en» ong he sat
On the curb-st, e for the sp«e of a minute,
f B j C - rUJ i / e an openingat last I
And in less that jiffy was in it!
Next morning tw fte citizen* came,
Twas the coroiitbade them attend,)
lo the end how it^ ht be determified '
Howthemancam tohise!)d j
"The man was a law, r j jj ear »
"He undoudtedly diedf remote.»
A third said, "he knew w d P( , aasw i
An attorney well verse,; n thelawg _
And as to the cause ot
"Twas no doubt for theg t of a wse ;,
The jury decided at lengthy
®®^ emn ly weighing e matt
That the lawyer "was drowii Im>( , '
He couldn't keep his head^g water> >
■We
T.
flower«
in it,
Siseful j&mfpt.
To Keep Flowers To p»ei
i n water, mix a little carbonate oi
and it will keep them a fortnight.
Tasset foe Peach Trees.—a ve
ago I experimented with plantioj â J,, f
tansey with some young peach trees, au °
verttive of the worm at the root, shjch I&J . "
had a good effect Nearly all the tre^JL,
blown up by the roots daring lin storm
four years ago, bat one or two tore
continue flourâhing. The tansey grows
the tree, and seems to act as a milchiug cL.
Ohio Cultivator,
Potato Yeast .—Cook andtasb ten peey
potatoes, poor on a quart of beföng water atg
stir well, and add a coffee-cup of sngar; 1$
this stand a few mimtes; pott in a quart ot
cold water, wanting a fill,and when lukewaroi
stir in a pint of yeast,and set à a moderately
warm place to rise. When »jJl fermented,
put into a stone jag, cork tighfo, and tie the
cork down and beep it in a cwlplace. After
the first rising keep enough offtis yeast for
the second bath. A teacup f Uris yeast is
sufficient for two large loaves f bread; most
excellent it is for muffins anigriddle eakes
also. There is no wjd of hop» or flour in it,
and inmy opinion it it the best j*st l haveever
tried, anä I have experiment»! in »11 known
receipts.^ Bön.
To Busoress Me» Gesebai ®.—Those who
established themselves succesilly in business
should advertise to retain thaijneition.
These who are but comttiencng in business
should »dvertise to suecesjully establish
themselves.
Discreet and judicious advafeers in the »ery
life of baimtss. Those whojeglect to «vail
them sel vet of its advantages j^are themselves
in trade atd consequently bo»w the rew*rd
on others. vho do advertise. ,
ENndtwirj «Vfr brings itftwn reward.
[From Ballou's Pictorial.
The Brown Cottage and the Old Well.
By 3Iargaret Verne.
The oldest of our villagers point with
a mysterious shake of the head, and deep
solemn expression of face, to the brown
house that is seated close by the shining
river, closed in from the village by tall,
stately trees, and sombre-looking foliage.
And when they speak of the well, whose
tall sweep has been poised untouched, in
the air, through so many weary years,
whose 'oaken bucket' has grown parched
and dry, and over the top of which busy
spiders have woven their webs, they will
shudder and mutter strange, low-spoken
words of a loug.-<ago night, when its wa>
ters sparkled in the glass goblets which
stood upon the well-filled board of the
brown cottage near it, where a young and
beautiful woman went through the now
neglected and dilapidated apartments
with a smile upon her face, speaking in
low and gentle tones to her friends, and
gazing with a look of mingled love and
worship upon the noble-minded man who
that uight had clasped her hands in his,
and promised, reverently and tenderly, to
love, cherish and protect her.
The villagers will tell you of the flow
ers that hung in garlands across the cot
tage walls, and down the window sides;
of the music that filled the hearts of the
listeners with a solemn, tearful joy; tell of
the wonderment of the guests on behol
ding the rich apparel of the bride; the cost
ly jewels that shone in her brown hair,
and sparkled upon her white arms and
neck, when she had been but the daughter
of a poor man, and had only known life
in its its simplest phases. With a strange
teelirig of awe and wonder, they looked
upon the scarcely known but wonderfully
handsome bridegroom, and thought what
if the dark reports which had been circu
lated about him in the village should prove
true?—thought what if Henry Chancil
did, in reality, get his gold unlawfully and
sinfully from the purses of his fellow
men?—if, indeed, he did not scruple to
spill the heart's blood of the bravest and
best who attempted to protect what was
rightfully their own?
They wondered if his heart had been
buried so long in selfishness and villainy,
that it could not grow pure and true again
in the holy love of the gentle woman who
trusted him so wholly,—if the congealed
waters of his soul would not melt, in the
warm light of her smiles, and gusli forth
gladly again.
And so the company stayed and won
dered in the cottage through the long even
ing; walked upon the fine carpets, to the
time of the music, which, to them, in their
simplicity, unused as they were to the lux
uries and refinements of life, seemed grand
and unearthly. At eleven o'clock at night
a wild tempest arose, which prevented
them from going to their homes,—a tem
pest which made the strongest and bravest
quail in fear. The trees about the house
looked as if wrapped in flames, and the
thuuder and wind seemed to shake the
very earth's ceutre. Henry Chancil sat
with his bride in his arms, his lips com
pressed and his cheeks white with terror.
At times, when the lightning played at his
feet, his features were convulsed, and he
shrunk back like a guilty creature, hold
ing his bride still closer to his breast, as if
in her young purity, she could keep all
harm away from him.
After the storm had died away, and the
roar of the thunder had grown sollen in
the distance, and the wind bad eoftened
down to a gentle breath, when the rain
drops grew scattering, and the moon look
ed out upon the refaeshed earth from be
hind her curtain of clouds, and when the
guests at the cottage were prepared to take
their leave of Mr. and Mrs. Chancil, with
strange, incomprehensible weighing
heavily upon their hearts, a rap was heard
at the outer door of the cottage, and a
loud, stern voice called for Henry Chans
cil.
The bridegroom met the stranger at
the door, and for a while a confusion of
words fell upon the ears of the guests.
Chancil addressed his companion in a
low tone of entreaty, to which the man
replied with mingled Contempt and scorn.
It is useless, all this play upon words,'
(aid the stranger, decidedly. 'I must do
toy duty. We have long been in search
*f you. Will you submit quietly, or shall
I call for help?'
'Good heavens, man! you would not
take me to-night, would you?' groaned
Cfencil. This is my wedding night. You
would not take me from my bride?'
'Henry Chancil, the sooner you go from
that poor, deceived woman, the .better for
her. Come; I cannot dally longer.'
At that moment, Agnes Chancil, in her
bridal robes, sprang through the open
door of the parlor, near which she bad
been eagerly listening, and wound her
arms about the neck of her husband.
What would he do with you, Henry?
What does this man want? Why does
he talk of taking you from we? Tell me,
O, tell me!'
'My good woman, I have come to ar
rest your husband upon .he suspicion of
his ha\ ing been guilty of highway robbery
and murder. If he is proved innocent,
he will return to you. lie calm, I prav
you.'
Unclasping her arms from the neck of
her husband, Agnes boldly confronted the
officer, her blue eyes growing black with
the agony of feeling.
'Beware, sir, how you breathe such foul
suspicions of my husband! Beware of
linking his name with crime! None but
the blackest hearted could for a moment
wish to harm him; none but '
'Hold, hold, madam! you wrong me. I
do not say that your husband is guilty;
that remains to be proved. It will be bet
ter for you to remain quiet, and not op
pose your husband's going with me. If
he is innocent, nothing can harm him!
'Speak not to me of Henry Chancil's
going to a felon's ccll. If you take him
from this house, it will not be until after
you have taken my life. Back, sir!—
back!'
'Help! help!' cried the officer. And in
a moment three inen came to his aid, A
pair of strong arms were thrown around
the form of Agnes Chancil, as she sank
swooning to the floor, moaning, 'Henry!
Henry!'
For a moment Henry Chancil stood
before his bride, a look of unutterable ag
ony sweeping over his features. He made
a movement to take her in his arms, and
then he held up his menacled bunds to
the light, as if to decide whether he might
not free himself for one little moment.
'Useless! useless!' he murmured, dropping
his head upon his breast. 'God in heav
en pity me! Agnes! Agnes!' and pressing
his lips to the cold forehead of his bride,
he went with rapid strides across the hall
and out into the night, guarded by the
stern officers.
O, the long, weary days and sleepless
nights that followed to poor, poor Agnes!
days of wretchedness and dispair, when
she wandered about the cottage with the
name of her husband upon her lips. A:
times she grew wild with joy when think
ing of his release and return, and she
would dance like a happy child through
the house and garden; and then all the
blackness of the fate of a condemned
criminal, awaiting his execution, would
rush upon her, and she would sink down
powerless, at the very thought.
At last a messenger brought her the
news that her husband had been condemn
ed to death.
'1 will go to him, then,'said Agnes, a
sudden pallor playing over her face. 'I
will die with him: Though all others for
sake him, Agues Chancil will remain true
as Heaven."
'Your husband is not living, madam,'
said the man, slowly, aud in a hesitating
tone of voice. 'On hearing his verdict
from the lips of the judge, he vowed pas
sionately, that he would never die upon
the scaffold.'
'Thank God for his bravery!' exclaim
ed Agnes, bowing her white face upon
her hands.
'He took his own life, madam; and if
innocent before, he went into the presence
of God with a black stain upon his soul,'
said the stranger, solemnly.
The almost maddened wife slowly rais
ed her head from her hands, at these words,
and as the man ceased speaking, she went
to his side, and said, in a tone of irony
and hate;
'Lay not the sin, sir, of suicide at the
door of his soul, but rather to those judges
who stand like foul stains upon the great
page of right. Do you know, sir, that I
curse them? Will you tell them that with
all the might of my being, from my in
most soul I curse them? that my whole
life shall be spent fn prayers for their
misery, their eternal misery? Tell them
sir, that I will take my own life, that my
spirit may go nearer to God with its peti»
tion of misery and despair. Go, sir; I
have done!'
That night Agnes Chancil was missing
from her home. A long search was made
for her through the neighboring woods,
aDd boats were sent up and down the ri
ver, till all hope of finding her died out
within the hearts of those who searched.
At last, one of the servants, while draw«
ing water from the well, fouud a piece of
ribbon attached to the bucket, which Ag
nes had worn about Ther neck on the day
on which the news of her husband's death
was brought to her. After a long and
weary trial, the body of the poor creature
was drawn up from the depths of the dark
cold waters. Her blue eyes were open
wide, and a cold, bleak stare sat upon her
features, and still about her mouth sat
that fixed look of hate which bad settled
there while she was speaking to the un
known courier.
Ever since that time, the cottage and
well bave been a horror to the people of
the .village. The father of the poor, de
ceived bride gathered up the fine furniture
and sold it at auction, and made an at
tempt to let the house. But the tenants
saw, or rather imagioed they saw, strange
faces flitting in and out their rooms at
midnight, and told frightful stories of the
wild cries that came from the depths of
the old well. And so the house is now en
tirely deserted. The trees grow and
thrive, the birds sing in the cool shade,
and tne rose bushes and vines irail upon
the ground, heavy with unplucked blus
soins. The name of Agnes Chancil is
tli^B P ? a »» Ver " Vt "" g i re " i i!
And this is the reason wliv the vilia-1.
ger, .lake their heada, ,,„d [mm
will, » mysterious look to the brow,! cot
tage by the river.
The Life of an Cditôr.
The tables of mortality show thar the
life of an editor, compared with other men
is short. He wears out before bis time.
The exacting toil he persues, rarely bro
ken by a day of relaxation, shatters his
nerves and exhausts his vital energies.
When other men sleep, he is at work io a
close room, surrounded by the stifling
odors of damp newspapers, and the blin
ding glare of the gas-light, and his con
stitution must be adamant if he does not
break down before he sees fifty years. No
thing but great success aud ability to light
en his toil, by employing assistants, will
save him from irresistible doom. True,
there are exceptions in obscure newspa
pers, whose editors consult their own ease
more than they do the wants of their rea
ders, but uo editor who possesses the am
bition to be up with the times can expect
to live out the full measure of his days.
And yet, notwithstanding the labor,
the toil, the anxiety of the editor, and his
constant effort to please, his patrons often
find tault with him for some unlucky
word or for expressing his honest opinions
upon some subject which does not meet
the laste of petulanî readers. Such is hu
man nature. So many and so various
are the characteristics of men with whom
he is thrown in contact, that no editor can
escape fault-finding. He learns to expect
it and take it philosophically when it
comes, although some men 6eem to im
agine that he can easily be annihilated
with the breath of hia nostrils by the
mere expression of their dissent at his in
dependence with the words: 'Stop my pa
per.' But they find him taking the mat»
ter with the utmost indifference, as noth
ing but the most ordinary transaction in
the world, and keeping right on in his
course the same as before. Irate patrons
would not be aslonsished at this, if they
knew how 'used to it' the editor has be
come.
DC/^He who means to do well without
doing what he means until the arrival of
some favorable opportunity, will never do
it at all.
An Illinois Farm.
What will those persons who have
been accustomed to consider live hun
dred acres a large farm, think of the
following? The editor of the Spirit
of the Agricultural Press has recently
been on a visit to the farm of M. L.
Sullivant, Esq., in the southeastern
part of Champaign county, Illinois.—
The farm contains over twenty thou
sand acres, and although only about
seven thousand acres are yet under
cultivation, employs over one hundred
men ! Three thousand acres are plant
ed in corn, and the ( editor estimates that
the farm will produce 15,000 bush
els of wheat this year, besides large
quantities of barley, oats, flax, &c. Mr.
Sullivant employs five different reap*
ers this season, and threshes mimedia^
tely after cutting, employing a steam
engine as his power in the latter op«
eration. A blacksmith's shop is locas
ted on the farm, and employed contins
ually in repairing farm implements; a
school is kept up for the education of
the children of the workmen. One
hundred and twenty-five yoke of oxen,
and fifty horses are employed. It
must be acknowledged that this is
something of a farm, and thfit Mr. Sul
livantpossesses much executive ability
to successfully manage such a stupend
ous concern; yet we are informed that
every thing moves on as regular as the
click o{ a chronometer. This is but
one of the many large farms which
now grace the broad prairies of that and
adjoining counties, none of which are
so large as this, but large enough to
excite tha wonder and admiration of
outsiders, who know nothing of the
magnificent West.—Louisville Cour
ier."
JtüpThe Washington correspondent of
the Philadelphia Press says it is estima
ted that the new dome of the Capitol will
weigh 7,500 tons, and that its ereetion
will take ten years. The new Houses of
Congress will be ready for occupancy by
a year from next December, and oot in
the coming seision, as was expected. 1
Education of Boys.
A merchant lately had occasion fot
u young lad as a clerk. He advertised,
find several presented themselves, us
mono- them a vvelKdressed, handsome
youth, who favorably impressed him,
and whom he thought of taking ou
tn ai. But when he "asked the lad to
wn£e > £ ' Ie awkward chiro^raohy con
i i • .i i i " t i
" "if however else the boy
""- |U S ""' '" S would tjot
penmanship
answer, lie then called up another,
whose appearance likewise betokened
comparatively wealthy parentage, and
gave him a calculation to make. But
the fractions were too much lor this
aspirant. At last, he picked out a neat,
but economically dressed lad, who said
he had been educated at the High
School, and who was evidently the
child of parents in but moderate cir
cumstances. This boy promptly passed
the ordeal. The merchant has now
had the youth in his employment for a
considerable period, and says, in com
menting on the occurrence, li he will
probably, in ten years, be on the high
road to fortune, while those two other
lads, with their originally superior ad
vantages, will be getting poorer and
poorer continually."
Now, whose is the fault ? To some
extent, doubtless, it is that of the lads;
buttheir parents are notentirely blame
less either. Man is naturally a vagrant
animal. Not one out of five loves
work, in the first place, for work's sake
merely. It is necessary to take the child,
almost as soon as he ceases to be an ins
fant, and begin to educate him for the
part he has to play in life. Parents
cannot inculate on their offspring too
early, that, if they would be prosperous
and happy, they must learn to depend
on their own exertions for making or
even retaining a fortune. The boy,
who grows up petted and indulged;
who thinks that his father is so rich
that he need not work like other lads;
who is not disciplined to study, to la>
bor. to self-denial generally; such a
boy, no matter what his advantages of
capital, or connexion, will run the
greatest risk of final bankruptcy, if he
does not, as too many do, turn out uts
terly worthless, even before he is old
enough to begin business. There is an
ancient proverb that, to make a gentle
man, you must begin in the cradle.—
The adage would be truer and more
useful, if it was that, to make a man a
business man, you must begin with the
boy.
Of the three candidates for the clerk
ship, whom the merchant examined,
two had started life with every advan
tage. They had been sent to choice
schools, they had been furnished Ii*
berally with books, they had been able
to give their undivided attention to
study; but not feeling the necessity of
exertion, and not having it impressed
on them by their parents, they trifled
away their privileges. The other lad,
from childhood, had to struggle. It
was only by great self-denial, probably,
that his father had been able to clothe
him decently enough to go fo school.—
From the first, he had realized the
worth of education, the value of time,
and the necessity of relying on himself.
He had hardened the muscles of his
character, if we may use such a meta
phor, by the necessary training which
his circumstances imposed upon him.
It depends altogether upon the man»
ner in which children are educated,
whether they become useful, prosper
ous and happy members of society, or
whether they go down, foundered in
character and fortune, on the boister*
ous sea of life.—Phila. Ledger.
Cheese.
Boxes Extra Western Cheese. 20 Smalt
E. Dairy, direct from Cincinnati. 5
Tierces S. C. Hams.
mh28 HART, AUSTIN & CO.
10
Sommer Hats.
A COMPLETE assortment of Men's Youths,
ami Boys' Summer Hats. Also, Misses and
Ladites' Leghorn Hats—just received by
ap i HART, AUSTIN & CO.
Harrison's Colombian Hair Dye."
Size Enlarged, Style L/tproved.
IT has double the quantity and strength of any
other.
It gives a perfectly natural color.
It colore every shade firom ligiit brown to
black.
Its use is easy and rapid.
Its effect is instantaneous and permanent.
It is the best, quickest, che 5 ** 8 ^ ssfest
Dye ever made.
Or^Directions for use ( -r. ro ?X ia . n X'_ r: .?
For sale by
ÎARSON & KEARNY.
O^AR LAUV£,
Attorn? and Counsellor at Law,
PLAQUE MINE, LA.
ijyOffice, thé same a* that of Ze non La
^auve, Esq. my 17