The home journal., March 24, 1859, Image 1

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Volnm
VINOH158TIrt, TJEX-.;- MAHCII
1859.
Number 11.
III.,,,:,,:. , ., !! n;. ' . .,
ouvnal
' PIul to'au 'it!' sHrttrwy iwy, '
We ftillo Tratk where'er t lKnrr'
rjrti .juuni"."".
than one year musi u . pum m auvnnvc.
W HOIOniKII IIV w uu nuuDbiifiivnn
t less than Ui reeular price will
be received' However, when a club of
five subscribers is sent us, we will illow
an exira copy gratis to the gctterup of
the club. ,.' :
g0"Single copies sold at 10 cents.
When credit for the paper is giv
en to the end of the year three dollars
will be invariably charged.
Clubbing. We will supply either
Harper's Magazine, or Graham's, or Go
dcy's and the Home Journal, one year, for
four dollars. Arthur's Home Magazine,
or Peterson's, and the Homo Journal, one
year, for 3 25.
. NOTICE.
Subscribers receiving their papors with
'o red cross mark on them will understand
it to mean that unless they pay up their
dues to us their paper will be discontin
ued. We ha va about 75 names that will
'undoubtedly be erased unless this cross
mark is heeded. Paper alone costs about
$11 per week, cash, and we tire unable
-and unwilling to submit to thisdrain up
on our pocket unless we uro sure thutour
.-submisson bo appreciated.
Postmasters throughout the country will
Ao us a favor, as well as bu doing their
iduty, to inform us when a subscriber re
i fuses h i s paper, or whon the paper lies
dead ottbeir office.
TROUBLE KILLS.
The secret sorrow of the mind a
sorrow which must be kept how it
wilts away the whole man, himself
'Unconscious meanwhile of its murder
ous effect! . He cannot feel that he is
approaching death, because he is sen
sible of no pain; in fact, he has no
feeling, but an indescribable sensation
perceived about the physical heart.
Lord Raglan, commander-in-chief
of tie British army before Sebasto
pol, the bosom friond of the Duke of
Wellington for forty years, of whom
partial friends have often said: his
character seemed without a flaw,
such a man died, figuratively, of a
broken heart. In a moment, almost,
trouble came like a whirlwind, aval
anclie followed avalanche, in quick
succession, that no time was left for
the torn spirit to rise above its wounds.
The British government, quailing be
fore popular clamor, left the brave old
man to bear the brunt alone, because
it could not afford to recall him, and
yet had not the courage to sustain
him. While the tone of official com
munications deprived him of his sleep,
weighed heavily upon him, and broke
his gallant spirit, the failure cn the
Redan closely followed. On reaching
head quarters a letter was in waiting,
which announced the death of the
last surviving member of a large
family of brothers and sisters; the
next day the death of a general, his
companion-in-arms. Next came the
news that the gallant son of Lord Ly
ons was sinking under his wounds.
These things, coming so rapidly one
.after another, in the course of a few
hours, as it were, caused such a change
in his appearance, all unknown to
himself, however, that his physician
Lad to request him to take to his bed,
and within forty-eight hours ho died,
without supposing himself to be in any
jdauger whatever.
Within a year, a worthy lady in
Ohio sickened in consequence of some
groundless rumors affecting her char
acter, iu the community in which she
had recently moved. She knew they
were all groundless, and knew the
motives of the miserable wretches
who originated them; but her delicate
and sensitive spirit shrnnk before the
shock, retreated within itself, and all
torn and bleeding, she died 1
Within a few months, a most excel
lent clergyman found the feelings of
his people so generally against him
;that he resigned his oliice. The res
ignation was accepted; but all under
such circumstances, that it was really
. dismissal, and that, too, for causes
whichought to have made every mem
jber of the community stand up to him
Jike a man. -Conscious of his integri
ty, aod feeling that he had been badly
lealt with h8 sensibilities received
shook which carried bjrn to a pre
mature crave in a few days.
You are worse than you should be
rom tho fever you have. Is your
Jhind at easel sold a quick -sighted
physician to a sleepless, wasting pa
tient. .No, it is 'not, was the frank re
ply, and the last recorded words of
Oliver Goldsmith, whose Vicar of
7
13 V W. . J.. iwA'l'TKlt, I ,
Wakefield," and 'The Deserted Vil
lage," will only die with the English
language, died at the age of forty-six
.of & malady of the mind, from blasted
hopes and unkind speeches of the
world around him! , He was a man
.whose heart was .large enough 'and
' kind enough to have made the. whole
'world, happy, whose troubles arose
from "his. humanity; yet the base things
fttf vt bU to undeserved, so malig-
- ia. ,
nant iand untrue, broke his heart.;-; ')
' , Jn view of those facts,' let ' parents
early impress on the minds,, pf.thcjr
children, it is not what .they are
charged with, hut what they are guil
ty of that should occasion trouble and
remorse) that a carping . word should
not blanche the check or break the
spirit, so long as there is conscious
rectitude within. ' ; '
And let all' 'learn,' what the com
monest humanity dictates; ' to speak
no word, write no line, do no deed
which would wound the leelings of
any human creature unless under a
sense of duty, and even then, let it be
wisely and loiig considered.
The following curious1 case is rela
ted in Thompson's Batik Note Repor
ter: "A soldier of the Mexican war,
instead of reporting himself to his
family or going home, quietly' settles
in tho West and obtains his land war
rant. His wife, living in an Eastern
State, presuming herself to be a wid
ow of some six years' standing, appli
ed for a widow's warrant, and got it.
Both warrants have been sold, located
and returned to Washington for pat
ents, when it is discovered that two
warrants have been issued where only
one should have been. Tho commis
sioner refuses to grant a patent for
the land which is located with tho
widow's warrant.
SELECTIONS FOR A NEWSPAPER.
Most people think the selection of
suitable matter for a newspaper the
easiest part of the business. How
great an error. Jt is by all means the
most difficult. To look over hundreds
of exchange papers every week, from
which to select enough for one, espe
cially, when the question is not what
shall, but what shall not be selected)
is no easy task. If every person who
reads a newspaper, could have edited
it," -we would hear less complaints.
Not unfrequently is it the case that
an editor looks over all his exchange
papers for something interesting, and
can absolutely find nothing. Every
paper is dryer than a contribution
box; and yet something must be had,
his paper must come out with some
thing in it, and he does the best he
cun.
To an editor that has the least
care about what he selects, the wri
ting lie bas to do is the easiest part
of the labor. Every subscriber thinks
the paper is printed for his own bene
fit, and if there is nothing in it that
suits him, it must be stopped it is
good for nothing. Just so many sub
scribers as an editor may have, so
n arty tastes he has to consult. One
wants something smart, another some
thing sound. One likes anecdotes,
fun and frolic, and another wonders
that a man of sense will put such ar
ticles in his paper.
And so, between them all, you see,
the poor fellow gets roughly handled.
And yet to ninety nine out of hun
dred, those things do occur. They
never reflect that what does not
please this, may please the next man,
but they insist that if the paper does
not suit him it is good for nothing.
A notice of a recent steamboat ex
plosion ends as follow: 'The captain
swam ashore. So did the chamber
maid. She was insured lor $75,000,
and loaded with iron.
An acquaintance says that since he
dismissed his handsome doctor, and
employed a plain one, his wife and
daughter haven't got sick half as often
as they did before.
MARRYING AN EDITOR.
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Peter Snow, an ed
itor's wife. I well remember the day
when Mr. Snow asked me to become
his wife. I confess,! liked Mr. Snow,
and, thinking it would bo a very fine
thing to be the wife of an editor, I
said 'ye,' as pretty as I knew how,
and I became Mrs. Snow. 1 have
seen ten years of married life, and find
my husband to be an amiable, good-
natured man. He always spends his
evenings at homo, and is, in that re
spect, a model man ; but he always
brings a pile of exchanges, which is
only limited by the length of his arms,
and reads, while I ' patch the knees
and elbows of our boy's pataloor.s and
coat. After have had a Quaker
meeting of an hour's length, J ' break
the silence by asking :
"Mr. Snow, did you order that coal
1 spoke to you about?"
"What did you say my dear?" he
asks, after a few moments' silence.
"Did you order that coal I spoke to
you about" ,
"Indeed, my dear, I am sorry, but 1
forgot all about it. It shall come to
morrow." "'
Aoother hour's silence, which is
relieved by. the baby's crying, and
father liking to hear a noise of some
sort; I make no effort to quiet bin." ,
"My dear," says ' Mr. i Suow after
he has cried a minute or so, "you had
better give the baby some catnip tea
to quiet him, ho troubles me."
! "The baby is still; another hour pas
ses wilhout a breath of noise.. Be
coming tired of silence I take a lamp,
and retire for the night,' leaving Mr.
S. so engaged with his paper that he
does not seo me leave the room.
Towards midnight he comes, to bed,
and just as he has fallen to sleep, the
baby takes a notion to cry again. 1
rise as quietly as possible, and try to
still him. While I am walking the
room with a small Snow iu my arms,
our next a boy of three years be
gins to scream at the top of his lungs.
What can I do? Thcro is no other
course but to call Mr. Snow, so I call
out:
"Mr. Snow! Mr. Snow!"
"The third time ho starts up,, and
replies:
"What! Tim, more copy?"
"As though I was Tim, that little
imp running about the office, I reply
rather tartly:
"No I don't want any more copy 1
have had enough of that to last me
my life time 1 want you to seo w hat
Tommy is crying about.
Mr. Snow makes a desperate effort
to rouse himself; as Tommy stops to
take a breath, he falls asleep again,
leaving me to pace the room in as
much vexation as I can comfortably
contain. The next morning at break
fast, when 1 give Nr. Snow an account
of last, night's adventure, he replies :
"Indeed, my dear, I am very sorry
the children trouble you.'
"This is always the way. If I com
plain, it is, 'indeed, my dear.I am very
sorry.
"But should the very same thing
occur the subsequent night, directly
before his eyes, very likely he would
not see or know anything about it,
unless it happened to interrupt his
train of ideas. Then ho would pro
pose catnip tea; but before I can get
it into the infant's stomach, he will be
far away into the realms of thought,
leaving me not a liltlo vexed at his
stupidity.
"Mr. Snow knows the name of ev
ery paper published iu England and
the United States, but he cannot, for
the life of him, tell the names of his
children. Uo knows precisely the
years of every Ainorican journal, but
he docs not know the age of his ow n
baby- He knows how every contrib
utor looks, but I do not believe ho can
tell whether my eyes are black or
blue.
The world says Mr. Snow is get
ting rich. All I know is, he gives me
money to clothe our boys, and that,
too, without a complaint of poverty.
I hope the world is right in opinion,
and, when I am satisfied it is, I shall
advise him to resign his editorial hon
ors, and spend a few mouths in be
coming acquainted with his wife and
children. The littlo ones will feel
much flattered in making the acquain
tance of so litprary a man."
THE HAND AND HiiART.
I ak no hand wilhout the heart
Is gushing lo I km inv
Its all on me its all in life,
Where'er our footsteps go;
'Tis better, fur, that we should part, tliiin
(live the hand without the heart.
1 risk from thoo no fame nr woalth
'I'd bind our souls in one;
A love unmixed by sordid gain
1 trove from thou or nont;
0! savewiy heart from secrot stealth, nor
crush my life with soulless wealth.
1 ask no feeble pledge of love,
liestowcd with doubts and fears;
Rut suck an undivided heart
Changeless by lnpso of years.
And then n blessing from above will
cheer tho path of plighted love.
I ask not for a brighter star '
To light my home below;
If o'er my soul thy glistening beams
Shall shine wrth love's wurm glow;
For then no earthly power can bar our
love our heavenly guiding star.
.THE YOUNG BRIDE.
Observe that slow and solemn tread,
when the young bride takes her wed
ed one by the arm. and with downcast
looks, and heavy heart, turns her face
from "sweet home," and all its asso
ciations, which have for years been
growing, and brightning, and entwine
ing so closely around the purest and
tenderest feelings of the heart. IIow
reluctant that step, as she moves to
wards the carriage; how eloquent
those tears, which rush unbidden from
their fountain!
Sho has just bade adieu to hrrome!
she has given the parting hand the
parting kiss! With deep and strug
gling emotions she lias pronounced tho
farewell! and oh, how fond, and yet
mournful a spell this word breathes!
aqd, perhaps, 'tis the last farewell to
father, mother, brother, sister!
Childhood and youth, the , sweet
morning of life, with its fcharm of
earliest birds," and earliest associa
tions have now p8aL.;.ffow corn.J
me noes a new a momentous period
of existence! Of this she Is well aware.
She reads in living characters uncer
tainly, assuming-, that where all was
peace all : was - happiness where
home, sweet home, was all in all unto
her. But these ties, these associations,
these endearments, 1 she has yielded,
one by one, atid now she has broken
them all asunder! She has turned
her face from thntn rill, and witness
how she clings to the arm of him, for
whom all these has been exchangedl
See how she moves on; the world is
before her, and a history to be writ
ten, whoso pages are to be filled up
with life's iovliest peneilings, or, per
haps, with incidents of eventful inter
est of startling, fearful record! Who
can throw aside the veil even of 'three
score years and ten," for her, and re
cord the happy and sunbright incidents
that shall arise in succession, to make
joyous and full her cup of life: that
shall throw around those embelish
ments of the mind and heart, that
which crowns the domestic circle
with beauty and loveliness; that which
sweetens social intercourse, and sof
tens, improves, hikI elevates tho con
dition of society.
Or who, with firm and unwavering
hand, can register the hours and days
of affectionate and silent weeping of
midnight watching! Who pen the
blighted hopes the instances of unre
quited love the loneliness and sorrow
of a confiding heart the deep corro
ding cares of the mind, when neglect
ed and forgotten, as it were, by htm
who is dearer to her than life when
all around is sere and desolate when
the garnered stores are wasted, and
the wells nre dried up, and the flick
cring blaze upon the hearth wanes
and goes out! But her affections
wane not, slumber not, die not!
The brilliant skies may shed down
all their gladdening beauties, nature
array herself in gay flowers, bright
hopes and friends, kind friends, may
greet with laughing countenances and
glad hearts; but all avails naught.
One kind look one soft and affection
ate accent, the unequivocal evidence
of remaining love; one smile like that
which wooed and won that heart, would
enkindle brighter, and deeper, and
lovelier emotions at. its fountain, than
heaven, with all its beauties, and gay
associations.
Oh! young man, ever bo to thy
young bride, then, what thou seemest
now to be; disappoint her not! What
sweet tie.-, that bound heart to heart,
and hand to hand, and life to life, has
she not broken off for thee! Prove
thyself worthy of all she has sacrificed
Let it ever be her pleasure, as now
to cling with confiding joy and love
to that arm. Let it be her slay, her sup
port, and it shall be well repaid. Hers
is an enduring an undying love !
Prosperity will strengthen it adver
sity will brighten and invigorate it
and give to it additional lustre and
loveliness! Should the hand of dis
ease fall upon thee, then wilt thou be
hold woman's love woman's devo
tion! for thou wilt never witness her
spirits wax faint and drooping at thy
couch! When thine own are failing.
she will cling to thee like a sweet vine,
ind diffuse around thy pillow those
sweet influences and attractions that
shall touch tho master-springs and
nobler passions of thy nature that
shall give me new impulse to life!
Her kind voice will be like music to
thy failing heart like oil to thy
wounds! Yea! sho will raise thee,
restore thee, and inako thee happy, if
anything less than an nngel arm can
do it!
Man is created a social being it is
a law of his nature; but, having per
verted that law by a false education
and, through his progenitors, a faulty
organization, he hath made himscll
ami-social, so much so, that scarcely
can one man trust his neighbor the
more respectable the more dangerous!
It is a law of nature, that man can
enjoy nothing, to effect, alone; some
one must lean upon his arm listen to
hi observations point out secret
beauties, and become, as it were, a
partner in his feelings else his im
pressions are comparatively dull and
spiritless.
-. .
It is said that printed declarations
with blank forms, are to be used by
young ladies who have lovers too
modest to propose. The ladies them
selves fill put tho blanks, and of course
no sensible man can refuse signing
thcni. ,
GIVE HIM A TRADE.
If Education is the great buckler
and shield of human liberty, well de
veloped Industry is equally the buck
ler and shield of individual indepen
dence. As. an unfailing resource
through life, give your son an honest
tradr . Better any than Done; there is
an ample field for, the adoption of
every inclination in this respect.
Learned professions and speculative
employments may fail a man, but an
honest handicraft trade seldom or nev
erif its possessor choose to exerciso
it.
Givo your son a trade, no matter
what fortune he may have or may
seem likely to inherit, Give him a
trade and an education at any rate
a trade, With this he oan always
battle with temporal want, can always
be independent.
Young man, keep your eyes open
when you are after a woman. If you
bite at a naked hook, you are green.
Is a pretty dress or form so attractive
or even a pretty facer Flounces, boys,
are of no consequence, A pretty
face will grow old; paints wear off;
the sweet smile of the llirt will give
place to the scowl of the tcrmagent;
the coquette won't shine in the kitchen
corner, and the once sparkling eyes
and beaming countenance will look
daggers at you. Beware! if the dear
girl is cross and scolds at her mother
in the back room, you may be sure
you'll get particular fits all over the
house. If she blushes when found at
the wash tub, with her shjpvcs rolled
up, be sure she is of the dish-rag ar
ristocracy; little knowledge and a
good deal less sense. If you marry a
girl who knows nothing but to com
mit woman slaughter on tho piano,
you have the poorest piece of music
ever got up. Find one whose mind is
right, and pitch in.
THE REASON WHY.
Do you wish to know the reason why,
Why your neighbor often calls
On the dashing idow Wilkins,
Ami attends her to the halls?
Why his carriage is seen stopping
At some noted clothing store,
And t ho widow goes a shopping
Whoro sho never went before?
If you wish it, will tell you
Let me whisper to you sly
If thoy esloum it proper,
It is not your business why.
Do you wish to know why Peter
lbs forsaken friends ami homo,
And left his unlive country,
lu a distant land to roam?
Why Polly seems so lonely
Since tho day that Peter left,
Ami of all friends, the only,
Should appear to be bereft?
lf'you wish it, I will tell you
Let me whisper lo you sly
If they have reason for it,
It is not your business why.
Would you like to know the secrets
01 your neighbor's houso and life?
How ho lives, or how he doesn't,
And just how ho treats his wife?
How ho spends his time of leisure,
Whothur sorrowful or gay,
And where ho goes for pleasure),
To tho concert, or tho play?
If you wish 1 will tell you
Let mo whisper toyou sly
If your neighbor is but rivil,
It is not your business why.
In short instead of prying
Into other folk's affairs,
If you do your own hut justico
You will have- no time for theirs.
Re attentive to such matters
As concern yourself alone,
And whatever fortuuo flatters,
Let your business hu your own.
One word by way of finis
Let mo whisper to you sly
If you wish lo be respected
You must ccoso lo pry.
THE PLEASURE OF BEING YOUNG.
Ilulwer, in some of Ins writings, cx
presses it as his deliberate opinion that
no enjoyment ol manhood, no realization
of mature yoars, compensate for the loss
of youth. Kicijanl Henry Stoddard lias
given a poetic form to ilia same truth, in
the following lines:
There are gains fur all our losses,
There are balms for all our pain;
But when youth, the dream, departs,
ll takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again.
'Wo are stronger, andaro better,
Undor manhood's sterner reign:
Slill we feel that something sweet
Followed youth, with dying feet,
And will never coma again.
Something beautiful is vanished,
And wo sigh for it in vain:
We behold it everywhere,
On the earth, and in tho air,
Rut it never comes again?
A MYSTERY.
Among the mysteries of life is tho
difference in the punishment which
society awards to malo and female
sinners." A notable illustration of this
was exhibited in the finale of the trag
ic scene at Washington. The man
w ho sacrificed a wretched woman at
the shrino of sensuality, is followed
to his grave by a grand procession,
an 1 his magnificent collin decorated
with garlands. In tho cold hand of
the auditor are placed flowers, enable
matic of innocence and purity. The
female partner of his crime is univer
sally deserted and- despised, and, if
sne snouiaaie to-morrow, would prob-
aoiy go to iier grave unattended, save
by her immediate relatives and un
mourned by any ones Whilst the.
weak and erring creature is thus ex
cluded from the pale of human char
ity, the sympathies of an excellent and
sensible world are lavished on the
husband, who, with the full kiiowlcdgo
of the character of the adulterer, and
with repeated warnings of his crim
inal designs, left his young and giddy
wife to his mercy, permitted him to
be her escort to the theatre and other
public places, und, as if by design,
threw temptation and opportunity m
her way. This man, who is nccused
by the press of his own city of being
h'nnsell a vettcran roue, and of having
himself been often guilty of tho very
crime for which he lulled Philip Bar
ton Key, is lionized and visited in his
prison, and overwhelmed with demon
strations of respect, from the Presi
dent to the tide-waiter, while his
wife is mado the scape-goat, and upon
her solitary head break the thunders
of that society which strews its flow
ers over the grave of Key, and bedews
with sympathetic tears the unclean
and bloody hand of Sickles.
It may lie that Mrs. Sickles is not
deserving much pity or forbearance;
but at the worst she cannot be more
debased than the two criminals who
have received such tokens of special
honor. Why should one of the guilty
parlies be caressed and treated with
respect, and the other despised and
execrated! Yet, even in cases of ac
knowledged seductions of female in
nocence, where the pure aflectiotis of
some confiding and generous maiden
are artfully converted into instruments
of her dest ruction, the immeasurable
villain w ho works her ruin is taken
by the hand by gallant men and even
by modest women, whilst the victim
who loved him with a love that was
boundless iu its depth and self-sarilice,
ami whom he has cast off as careless
ly, and more contemptuously than he
would a withered flower, is excom
municated from society, avoided as a
moral leper, thrown down a bottom
less abyss of scorn and shame, where
never again shall the sunshine of
hope visit her eyes, or a soothing voice
of compassion console her sorrows.
This is one of the mysteries of life;
one of those amazing wrongs and in
equalities which can neither be justi
fied nor explained. Richmond Vis
jjttlch. THE GREAT SOUTHERN UNIVER
SITY. The address of the Board of Trus
tees of the "University of the South,"
to the Southern dioceses, in relerciiee
to its choice of the site for the Univer
sity, is now being delivered through
out the States of this section of the
Union. We have read it attentively,
and now accord to its clear, brief and
explicit contents the meed of well-deserved
and high commendation. Our
readers will have, in recollection, our
cordial approval of the plan to estab
lish, under the direction of the Epis
copal Church, a Southern University,
accessible to students of every creed,
when it was first broached in this
place, and now that the lands whereon
il is to be built are procured, and the
site, Scwanee, selected on the (Jum
berland plateau, tho earnest of the
sincerity of tho highly influential,
wealthy and intelligent denomination
of Christians who have taken tho tru
ly great work in hand, litis been given,
and it only remains for us and others,
each iu his own way, to push on the
noble undertaking.
It is unnecessary to represent to our
reailers.the necessity that exists for a
university at once metropolitan and
Southern iu its character, one which
will secure to the youth of this portion
of the Union an education equal to
any given iu the oldest and most hon
ored of the mother land and Eastern
states, and superior to them in the
facilities it will at all times afford
parents to supervise without much
expense or any inconvenienco to
themselves the moral and intellectual
progress of their sons. Situated in a
country ol romantic beauty and un
surpassed salubrity, one abounding in
the purest springs and the most varied
mineral waters, accessible at all times
by rail road or the finest lime stone
turnpike roads, and with every attrac
tion to the traveler juriiryiiig for
health, recreation or pleasure, Se
wanen offer advantages and attrac
tions for the establishment of a great
seat of learning not to bo surpassed
and certainly not equaled by any uni
versity location iu this country or any
portion of Europe with which we are
familiar. Here then, at this favored
spot the Board of Trustees of the
University of tho South have mado
their selection, procured their lands
and fixed the site of their college, and
they now appeal to the publio for the
means lo erect the building, procure
its outfit and endow its professorships.
Already its earliest projector and
eloquent advocato, Bishop Polk.
this diocese, has taken tho mutter
with his usual energy in nJ amJ
subscriptions exceeding the sum of
fifty thousand dollars have teen
promptly, and cheerfully given. Wo
cannot doubt that generous, liberal,
intellectual and affluent Louisiana
will Tre a( 'east fiva times this
amount to the great work which ap
pesWs so powerfully to every true lay
er of our institutions, and tho diffu
sion of that knowledgo without which
their permanence cannot bo main
tained. "' ;.,!.
It is the purpose of the respected
body who have initiated this truly -;
patriotic work to make their .professf
orships entirely independent pf .fees'; to
have, in fact, the curriculum of study
regulated and controlled by gentlemen
who will be able to maintain with
becoming dignity of character, spirit
and independence, tho honor and
deference due to them and to the great
duties devolved upon them to dis.
charge, for the besetting air of cis-At-"
lantic education is the laxity of colic
giata and scholastic discipline, ' and
such must ever be the case where
professorships are unendowed and .
their incumbents depondent upon fees
for subsistence and existence.
The question then presents itself for
the public consideration, whether ev
ery one will do this duty on this occa
sion whether our wealthy men, who
have all that is valuable, nil that is
dear to them, all that they cherish
here with us in the South, will relax
their purse-strings and aid in tho
foundation and establishment of an
institution that ages yet unborn will
point to with pride, honor and reve
rence, as the imperishable work of
predecessors, friends of their country,
devotedly attached to learning, and
imbued with the true spirit of repub
lican freemen. Tho South, political
ly considered, could not combine to
form such un institution as the heads
of the Episcopal church have here
designed, nor is it necessary it should,
for us no religious test shall ever ba
exacted from students, nor disqualifi
cation of any kind ever be allowed in
it on account of creed, no objection
can be made to the great and good
work which is presented for our eti
couragement and support. We hope
New Orleans will stand first of cities
in its subscription to found tho Uni
versity of tho South, and that Louisi
ana, sparce as may be its population,
will have no name, before it on the .
list of Southern States which will
honor their ago and nation by their
contributions to the noblest achieve
ment, we already consider it achiev
ed of our day and country. iV. O.
Delia.
SOUTHERN LITERATURE.
It affords us no ordinary degree of
pleasure to observe the substancial
progress ol the Southern Literature,
for l lie past year. Nothing so so clear
ly indicates the independence of a
section or nation, as an independent
home literature. True, we have not
that, entirely, yet in the South, but
then we are making rapid strides
towards that very desirable point,
and even now there is no necessity of
going North, or elsewhere, out of tho
South, for a solid current and periodi
cal Literature. If our people will
patronize and encourage homo enter
prises of this character, they can bo
supplied at their own doors as it were.
We have in our midst, l'usscll's Mag
ga.ine, (Charleston, S. C.,) equal to
Blackwood. The Southern Literary
Messeitger, by John ll. Thompson,
Richmond, Va., a noble and we be
lieve, first enterprise of the kind in the
South, unsurpassed by any: and De
Bow's Review, New Orleans, La.,
which, for statistical iulbrtnation, has
no equal, are all purely southern
Monthlies. No Southern gentleman
should permit himself to bo without
these three truly southern works.
Then we have tho Aurora, at Mtfr
freesboro, Tenn., by MrsE. M. Eaton,
is an excellent Ludy's Monthly, which
is soon to report the Fashions, and if it
incuts with suliicient encouragement,
will doubtless become the "Oody of
the South." A most desirable feature
of tho Aurora is, its reading matter is
of the most chaste and elevated char
acter. Truly is this 'A Monthly for
iho Mothers and Daughters of the '
South and West." Then we have, of
Denominational Monthlies and Quar
terlies, tho Home Circle, Nashville, .
Tuun., the Southern Methodist Quar-
terly Keview, Richmond, a; the
Southern Presbyterian Review, and a
Monthly in Richmond, Va., under the '
control ot the Baptists, whoso name
we have forgotten, and some others
we cannot call to mind. All the before
mentioned monthlies staud high, and
some we know arc worthy the sup
port oi itio whole south. Among (no
Literary Weeklies, we think The
Times, Greensboro, N. C, far superior
to Bonner's Ledger. The Crusader.
Atlanta, Ga., which ranks high; tho
Lumpkin Palladium, Lumpkin, . Ga.,
and the Georgia Educational Journal,
Forsyth, Ga.,lhe Iome Journal, Win
chester, Tenn., worth more to any
Southern family, than WillihJ Homo
Journal Spirit of the Age, and Live
Giraffe, both at Raleigh, N. C. anil
Young's spirit of the South, Iuisville
Kv., are excellent Turf. Stock and
general Literary journals.
Want of time aud space forbids us
noticing others now. Likely we khall
refer to this again. Where is the ne
cessity of going North for our current
Literature. JJfffwcraii'c flatorwi, pf
Calhoun, Ga.
; '.. '
' If a man could bequeaths hhr vir
tues by 'will, and settle his sense as J
learning upon his heirs, as ceruisW
as he can nis lands, a brave '
woy!tJ bo -mighty privileg-' ' "
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