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The home journal. [volume] (Winchester, Tenn.) 1857-1857, February 27, 1857, Image 1

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Advertisements inserted at ont dollar per
square for the first, and fifty cents for each
ubaequent insertion. ' A liberal discount
made on yearly advertisements.
1 square, (ten lines) one year $10 00
2 iquarea one year... 15 00
3 aquarea one year.. 18 00
For one half or a column... ..... .... 23 00
1 aquare eii months. ,. 7 00
2 aquaree aix montht 10 00
SI squares six months.'. 1300
Forone half of a column 30 00
.; l square m reem mthe , o tu
2 aquaree three montha uu
3 aquaree three, months 10 00
Get a Home. Get a home, rich or
A poor, get a home, and learn to keep that
' home and make it happy to your wife and
children by your beaming presence; learn
" to love simple pleasures, flowers of God's
'own planting, and music of His own the
j bird, wind, water-fall. So shall you
help to stem the tide of desolation, pov
i erty and despair, that come upon so many,
, through scorn of little things. Oh, the
,"j charms of a home, though it be but a lit-
tie home; comforts .dwell there that sun
i the gilded halls of society. Live conten
tedly in your little ' home, and wait for
God to give you a nobler one.
Lomo Sermons. At the South Caroli
na Conference of the Methodist Episco
pal church, the presiding Bishop decided
long sermons, except on very special oc
casions, to be improper, contrary to the
discipline, to the practice of "the Fath
ers," and to some extent, subversive of the
ends of the Christian ministry, The lim
it, on ordinary occasions, according to the
Bishop, should be from thirty to forty -five
' J "Tiie Poor Down Trodden Slaves."
Many of the hired negroes in the tobacco
factories in Richmond make from $8 to
$12 per week, over work, without any ex-
' traordinary labor. How many poor white
folks are there in the North that would
( like to make such a sum by hard labor
for the entire week's employment.
An Irishman, who had commenced
building n wall around his lot of rather
. uncommon dimensions, viz; four feet high
and six feet thick, was asked for his object
by a friend. "To save repairs, my honey;
tlont you see that if it ever falls down it
will be higher than it is now."
, TSome think that tho great cure for im
morality is Education in our opinion,
the only antidote is high wages. It is hard
for a man to support a family and be lion-
est, at six shillings a day. There is many
e person who now passes for a saint, who
would bo one of the biggest scamps in the
y world, were his income reduced fiom roast
- beef to No. 3 mackerel.
' Lucky -Editor An editor in Arkan
sas, was lately shot in an affray. Luckily
the ball came against a bundle of unpaid
accounts in his pocket. Gunpowder
,'could'nt get through that!
: The most delicate and the. most sensi
ble of all pleasures consists in promoting
the happiness of others.
! . .-...
s Picture of Life. In youth, we seem
to bo climbing a hill on whose top eter
nal sun-shine appears to rest. How ea
V gerly we pant to reach its summit. But
c when we have gained it, how different is
; the prospect on the other side! We sigh
",as we contemplate the dreary waste before
us, ana iook dbck witn a wisttul eye up
on the flowery path we have passed, but
may never more retrace.. Lite is like a
r portentious cloud, fraught with thunder,
j storm, and rain; but religion, like those
V streaming rays of sunshine, which clothe
It with light as with a garment, and fringe
V its shadowy skirts with gold,
ti .
advertising advantages; The im
inense sums spent annuallv bv Deonln in
business and by professional men in ad-
4 fvertising their respective articles or call-
rings, must prove that it is a paying invest
fraent of money to the advertiser whatso
"-ever its advantages msy be to the prin
ter. Sj On this subject the Southside Lemo-
crat, ad energetic paper published in Pe-
.1 T
tersDurg, va., says: .'. ; ,
"Advertising and its' Effects.
There is a merchant in this city who, on
his arrival here, went to work and earn.
ed fifty cents, with which he paid for , an
advertisement announcing himself in want
of a clerkship. He obtained a situation,
Decarne a partner, and advertised; and is
at this time worth a quarter of a million
of dollars, bears an estimable churscter,
and is in a fair way to become one of our
leading men in the country. See what
an advertisement will do.
f You want to kiss a pretty girl, why
kiss her, if yon eari. If a pretty girl
wants to kiii7u, why lethsr, liks a man.
Written for tlx Horn Journal.
kvmbkr two.
by Mrs. adelia c. craves.
I turn it over, the precious, quaint old
volume, in the long winter evenings,
while the fire burns brightly on thohearth,
the cat lies contentedly purring on tho
rug, and the lamp throws a ruddier light
upon the crimson curtains draping the
windows. In the summer's twilight
gloaming, too, when all the busy sounds
of day are hushed, or subdued, I thumb
the consecrated pages, some scarcely cut
apart, still clean and white, for the rec
ollections there are dimly, almost illegi
bly written, the memories of but little
value, but there are others, that from
frequent and careful perusal have as
sumed a deeper shade; yet are they not
defaced, but only grown brighter, more
distinct, more precious from each subse
quent perusal. Very dear are the records
of those pleasant leaves, cheering by
their calm, soothing remembrances, ma
ny an otherwise lonely hour.
There are others, none the less dear, it
may be, but stained, worn, tear-blisterod,
read with weeping, laid aside with, sob
bing, over whose tear-stained records the
severed affections bleed with newly probed
wounds and yearn with faithful, deathless
Heart-pictures, too, are drawn upon
its pages, with the skill of more than
mortal limner, fresh and unfading in col
or, and truthful and life-like in feature.
They are of the dear ones of infan
cy, of childhood, youth and riper age.
Their lineaments embellish the volume
and cause us to linger long at times in
contemplation of the well-remembered
There were few who visited the old,
brown nouso upon the hill, lew save
friends and relatives, for it was at a dis
tanco from neighbors and stood back
from the road, so, though many passed
along tho highway and were attracted to
look nt the pointed gables, and long and
shaded wings, few entered for a casual
call, for its very appearance, large, sub
stantial and dignified as it was, seemed
to invite no idle curiosity- It had a lone
ly look, too, from the road, so high tho
roof, so long the shaded wings, with doors,
even in summer closely shut, and win
dows rarely opened towards the street,
But hospitality and friendliness were the
presiding spirits within, and cold and
cheerless as the view from the highway
seemed to strangers, warm, sunny and
cheerful' looked the house to the dear
one9 within.
It was truly a home for its own hearts,
beside its own hearth-stone an abiding
place a refuge from all the storms with
out. Not acaravansera for a night's rest
and the resuming of a toilsome journey
in the morning, but the heart's own rest
ing place.
Beside our Cousin Charley, whose con
stant home was there, we were two, that
at intervals nestled beside the warm
hearth-stone, reading, by the light of the
tall candle on the little stand, the same
simple story from the same pictured page;
with difficulty suppressing our merriment
at the tales we read or told each other,
till Grandmother, knitting in hand, point
ed her seam-needle at us and shaking her
warning head, tried to look stern, while
we, bursting with merriment and regard
less of consequences, laughed outright at
the funny words in Cousin Charles' les
sons. Woe to us poor little transgressors
then, when such irrelevant sounds escap
ed our lips. Slowly laying down the
ponderous volume which had engaged his
attention, and peering over his spectacles,
as if he had never before found occasion
fer so signal a rebuke, (though between
you and me, reader, he had done the
same thing every night for a month, at
least, Sundays excepted,) Grandfather
bradeus, for a couple of good-for-noughts,
"Be still."
Audible sounds were of course for a
while suppressed, but soon commenced
such a whispering of secrets, momentous
ones to ua, such as the discovery of a
newly made hen's-nest in the spacious
barn, or under the currant bushes, or a
robbin's little family in the cherry tree
by our chamber window; or how madame
Grey wing, in the hollow atump below the
spring, was just hatching her first brood
of goslings.
Oftentimes however was our attention
closely rivited by what was going on at
the little, round, three -leied candle-atand
in the corner, for Cousin Charley was
studying Latin and Grandfather was his
teacher nights, for we Were far from
school. It was then we first hoard of the
wooden horse with its band of armed men
by which "Troja suit" it was then we
sympathized with the brave iEneas and
his devoted followers, admired the saga
city ol Laocoon when he said, "Timeo
Danaos, et dona ferentes," and shudder
ed with honor at his own and his chil
dren's horrible death.
With wondering eyes, devouring ears
and parted lips we saw, as he read the
story, the immense serpents coming from
lenedos, with their scaly backs in tortu
ous folds, their heads raised high above
the reave and their forked tongues vibrat
ing in their blood-speckled mouths. We
almost heard the imploring shrieks of
the sons of the priest of Neptune, as they
struggled with the crushing folds of the
monsters, and saw the eager step, but
despairing look of the poor father as he
hastened to their hopeless rescue.
We burned with indignation against
the false Sinon, saw with iEneas the
ghost of Crensa, and like him, in many
circumstances, "Steterunt comae et vox
faucibus hacsit." Little thought we, mer
ry ones then, that we too should wander
at a future day over classic soil and gath
er for ourselves the many treasures hidden
beneath its surface.
ButO! those pleasant evenings ! De
licious hours were they. Bed-time came
all too soon, and sometimes, so did morn
ing too, for
Early to bed and early to rise,
Will make a man healthy, wealthy and wis",
was the governing maxim of that house,
and if not sooner, Emma and I must, at
least, be up to eat our breakfasts.. But
rise as early as wemight, we always found
the milking done and the morning meal
upon the table: ,
That over, what a scattering! Char
ley always went with the workmen to the
fields, for though he could not chop down
trees, ho could pick up chips, cut and
pile bush, and burn it too, If his hand
was not strong enough to hold the plough,
it could collect the cobble-stones in heaps,
and if he could not sow the grain and
plant the corn, he could drop the lattei
in hills, and make scare-crows to frighten
the thieving crows and black birds from
both. Many a bright day in the early
Spring, when the dropping blossoms of
the orchard boughs silently flung their
gauze-like covering over the green Earth's
breast, once more under the sun's rays,
newly pulsing with a fresher life and vig
or, would we, too, with each a basket on
her arm, steal away with cousin Charley
to the field and drop with him the yellow
kernels in the places prepared for them,
ever and anon saying as we carefully
counted the seven grains, for each new
One for the black bird, one tor the crow,
Two tor the cut-worm, aud th ree to grow,
We had an interest in that crop, for
our wee-bit hands had helped to plant it,
and how anxious were we for the first bd-
pearance of the tender blades above the
ground, and how proud when the ripened
ears hung drooping and waiting to be
But when the haying time came, then
was Cousin Charley of more imnortance
than any where else, for there he could
do almost as much work as a man. Du
ring the harvesting he could do little but
carry food and drink for the workmen
and run of other errands. He could not
reap, he could notbind, not well at least;
he could only carry the sheaves and
place them in the shocks; but in the hay
field, he could pitch and toss, turn and
shake the new-mown grass, to say noth
ing of the playwork of raking after the
load. Why, even Emma and I could do
that, and often, too, for the pure fun of
the thing, joined the hay-makers, raking,
turning, shaking as busy as sny of them,
and as the crowning delight of the whole,
riding up to the barn on the loa.L rim.
terously dropping our heads as it naisad
through the wide-flung doors.
It is all over now, that old-fashioned
way of making hay. Horse power does
it all cuta it, rakes it, all but pitching
it on and off tba clattering wagon-rack.
All tho romance of hay-making ia de
But the fragrant, new-mown hay is yet
the same. I smellod It ones again last
summer, and it carried me back, over
long, long years, to tho ploasant old
south meadow, all enclosed with second
growth of Chestnut, Poplar and Tulip
trees, overgrown with tho grape-vino's
bowenng shade, and I bowed my head
and brimming eyes, and in thought was
living again the years that weregono. I
though) of Cousin Charles and Emma,
and all the pure, innocent delights of
their fond companionship, and ulmostun
consciously I syllabled their names; and
at the words the ono stood beforo me, in
her clean, brown linen pinafore, with the
neat, gingham sun-bonnet in her hand,
waiting, as she used to do, to hear what
I was going to say to her, her blue eyes
looking eagerly into mine, and her sunny
curls straying down her neck and face;
while the other, with deep earnest gaze
and strongly-knit, manly little figure, was
beside her, willing to accede to any re
quest in his power to grant. Why
should not memory, thus powerfully aid
ed by association, so vividly recall them?
In the olden timos we were together eve
rywhere in the orchard, the meadow, the
garden, at the brook-side, in the barn,
nutting, black-berrying, gathering winter-
greens and checker-berries, where one
was, the others were not far distant.
But where are they now ? A tearhath
fallen on tbe page. How could I help it?
I may call, but who shall answer? I
may extend the hand of welcome, but
Oh! not to them. I may look with the
glance of affection into loving eyes, but
never again into theirs. Sunny curls
may twine over necks and brows of daz
zling whiteness, and I may love to look,
but the curls with which my fingers toyed,
the brows and necks over which they stray
ed, are perished from my sight. I look
for them no more on earth, save on fond
Memory's faithful page the picture gal
lery of the heart. There, aro their lin
eaments most faithfully copied and fond
ly may I gaze at pleasure upon the loved
and loving ones tho dark earth hid from
me, underneath her freshly-broidered robe
when tho bursting buds and blossoms
draped tho orchard bouchs, wove a pret
ty border to the green mantle of the
freshly springing meadow, and underneath
the shadowing arms of the wide old for
est, strove to hide the bare brown soil
and the dead leaves of the preceding
year with many a chaste aid fanciful con
Charley drooped in his boyhood, ere
his youthful heart had witnessed the at
tainment of one of its anient aspirations,
just as he had raised his foot for the first
step forward on life's threshold; and we
mourned him, 0 ! how tenderly 0 ! how
sincerely. His pale face had an aneel's
look as we placed the fresh Spring-flowers
beside the glossy hair and pallid cheek
and on the pulseless bosom over which
the snowy fingers were clasped in meek
submission, those fingers and those
hands so often employed in acts of love
for us. His work was done and he laid
him down to rest. 'Twas better so, yet
how could we but mourn tho beloved
companion of our childhood ?
Life's but a weary toilsome pilgrimage,
A warp or ti!al, with temptations woof,
A blotted book a soiled, and tear-worn page
A tangled mate, where order stamls aloof.
Hit youthful rest turned from the troublous way.
While leaf-buds burst aud flower were blossoming.
Life's preface read the volume cast away,
Looked up to Heaven and plur.ed a seraph's wing.
But Emma. A few more Springs came
and went, and she too, the beautiful bride
of only a few short months, drooped,
paled and died, and the only remaining
strand of the three-fold cord, I grieved
Alas, that death hath power to blight
The fcirest forms or earthly mould.
To quench the bright eye' loving light.
And nuke the heart grow cold.
How sad to see the closing eye,
The fainting pulse to feel,
To list the scarcely utter d sigb.
And mark the last change steal
Over some dear one's pallid fcce.
And settle slowly there,
And leave its last, abiding true.
On cheek, and brow, and hair.
Who hatb not felt the agony,
The grief beyond control.
Some dearly valued friend to see
A form without a soul I
To call, awl hear do ana waring word,
From Up ne'er mute bebie f
To grasp t hand, by friendship stirred,
01 never, never more f
Alt t our best aAectioM prove
The source or deepest woe.
For only tboae who badly love,
Such parting pain can know.
Cbriocs. Tha 21st versa of the 7th
chapter of the book of Ezra contains all
tba letters of tha alphabet.
Written tor th Home Journal.
Thou, and thou only I I ask for none other
One star Is enough my footstep to guide )
Thee truly I'll cherish,
Though all else should perish
Thou, and thou only, my loved one my bride t
Thou, and thou only t though others should tempt me
To follow their light, bright beaming from far
Forgeling thee never,
I'll turn to thee evi-r,
Telling thorn thnu art mine own chosen star.
Vain he their templing to cause me to follow
Aught otberthan thou, beloved of my heart I
In vain they'll caress me.
In vain strive to bless me,
Or lead me from thee, my dearest, to part I
True lo my vow, I will ever prove faithful i
Trust me, I'll prove myself worthy thy love)
I ne'er will forsake thee,
To pleasure I'll wako thee,
And love thee, as angel loves angel above.
Vt'tnciWTBR, Feb- 51, 1607.
We publish the following piece of poe
try because it is so natural and true, and
because it was handed us by a lady a
mother who can appreciate its beauty:
Oh. mother, get my bonnet, do,
I want to go and pluyi
Aud hurry, mother, tie my shoo,
Or Sis will run away,
Oh, mother, do untie this string,
It's In a hateful knot
And tell me where I put my bliag,
1 really have forgot.
Mother, see here, my dress Is loose,
I wish you'd hook it up)
Oh dear, I want a drink so bad,
Ma, take me down the cup.
Mother, I want a long, strong string,
To make my kite II y high
Cive me more paper for the tail,
I'll make It reach the sky.
I've cut my finger, mother, oh,
Do tie a rag upon Iti
And mother, hore, do Sew this string
Again upon my bounct.
And mother sew this button on
My pouts, see how they looki
And mother, won't you stitch those leaves
Into my spelling book)
Ohl mother, mother, comb my hair,
And wash my fiico right clean,
The girls are all a going to walk
To-night, upon the green.
To night, just after school, you know,
The mistress said we might)
And moiher, 1 must have some cake
Aud cheese to fix things right.
Oh, mother, pick these stitches up,
I've dropped a half a score;
And see! there's one all ravelled down
A dozen rounds or more.
Mother, Where is my jumping rope?
Mother, where is my hat?
Mother, come help me build my house,
Mother, John plagues my cat.
Thus hour by hour, and day by day.
These little things intrude,
Till many a mother's anxious heart
Is weary and subdued.
And to her ever troubled ear,
The sacred name of mother,
By being ever dwelt upon,
Sounds worse than any other.
Cut let each mother pause and think
How much she has at stake)
How many thousand drop
It take to fill a lake.
Remembering that her noisy boy
A statesman bold may be.
And strong in truth and right, may teach
A nation to be free.
With glowing words or eloquence
Maintain Jehovah's plan,
Till vice shall hide its head for shame,
And nations bless th man.
Or when her head is growing grey,
Thedauipiter kind and true.
With feeling heart and ready hand.
The "little thing" will do.
Let these reflections nerve and cheor
Each weary, fainting one,
With patient hope to do her work,
Till all her work Is done.
For not on earth can there be found
Through all life's varied plan,
A nobler, greater work than her',
Who rears an honest maul
We have known a very learned gentle
man to obligingly bring us a contribution
with the remark, that as we were contin
ually occupied, it must be doubtless quite
an accommodation to receive a good ar
ticle once in awhile aud on examininc
the "good article in question, we have
r.. i .u . . ..
found three gross grammatical orrors. di -
vers sins ofawkwarlness, and two words' 'V , aB0(W J
misspelled in the first and second aen T J"?""! "!''''
tences. A lecture, which will bear print -
ii- ,- .
ing as it is delivered ia an exception; and,
in a word, there are very few men, who
Ko. i I . , .
have not served a regular apprenticeship
l -.i , .
to the types, who can ait down, and, w th -
, , . . . , ' ,
out "halt or let," express their thouhu
reaany anunuentiy in writing. Yej .
v, -
-it .v:. , . .
who, becauae they hav1-'
ii uu. wo ua v meet witNrrni in
ional hit in a latf
3 copies 95 00; 10 copies $15 00;
i copies 8 00; 15 copies 20 00. '
elaborated a drawling story or poem in
some incautious paper, talk daringly and
dashingly of journalism, and graciously
inform us how they would make this fly
round, if they were only editors.
Singular, every man, no matter how
stupid ho is, always seems to be morally
convinced that if everything else fails, ho.
can cither manage a small farm or edit a
paper and experience shows that whero
there are a hundred educated young men,
capable of successfully practicing a pro
fession, there is not more than one or two
who is reully enough of a genius, a scholar,
and a man of practical sense, toTnako u
good editor. In fact, though all the world
roads papers, thcro are very few out of th
business who have ever taken the pains
to acquire much information relative io
it and the natural consequence is, that
its difficulties aro unappreciated. Phi,
Washington, April 8, 1830.
My Dear Sir:
I have read Tom Moore's first volumo
of Byron's life. Whatever human im
aginstion shall hereafter picture of a hu
man being, I shall believe it all within
the bounds of credibility. Byron's case
shows that fact sometimes runs by all
fancy: as a steamboat passes by a scow
at anchor. I have tried hard to find some
thing in him to like, besides his geniua
and his wit, but there was no other likea
ble quality about him. He was an incar
nation of demonism. Ho is the only man
in English history, for a hundred years,
that ha3 boasted of infidelity and of every
practical vice, not included in what may
be termed, what his biographer does term,
meanness. Lord Bolingbroke, in his
most extravagant youthful sallies, and
the wicked Lord Littleton, were saints to
him. All Moore" can say is, that each of
his vices had soiuo virtue or prudence
near it, which in some sort chocked it.
Well, i T that were not so in all, who
would escape hanging!
The biographer, indeed, says his moral
conduct must not be judged by the ordi
nary standard! And that is true, if a fu-
vorablo decision is looked for. Many
excellent reasons are given for his being a
bad hucband; the sum of which is that he
was a very bad man. I confess I was re
joiced then, and am rejoiced now, that he
was driyen out of England by public
scorn; because his vices were not in his
passions but in his principles. He den'.
ed all religion and all virtue in the house,
too. Dr. Johnson says there is merit in
maintaining good principles, though tho
preacher is seduced into violation of them.
This is true. Good theory is somethinc.
But a theory of living, and dying, too,
made up of tho elements of hatred to re
ligion, contempt of morals, and defianco
of the opinions of all the decent part of
the public when before has a men of let
ters avowed it?
IfMilton were alivo, to recast certain
prominent characters in his great epic,
he could embellish them with new traits
without violating probability.
The Washington correspondent of the
Baltimore Sun gives a brief description of
the Territory of Arrazonia, the inhabit
ants of which have sent a delegate to Con
gress, to present their claims for an or
ganized territorial government. It ein-
braces the territory acquired by the Gads
den treaty, in addition to the Messilla
Valley, which we had claimed under tho
former treaty, and comprises twenty-njne
thousand square miles. A portion of the
territory is said to be arable and well
watered, and another portion is undoubt
edly rich in mines of gold, silver and cop
per. Wagons have traversed the territory
from the Rio Grande to the K n,l nf ilia
ii-r-r, ,., . m.
uu" Ul atiiorn a. ine territory is thief
' i . ... , , ' .
is truer-
1 .""V- . V. t -
Wl 1X19 "ranue to aan LUeiro. oroan Jrt'
it .... " o v '
, . .. om.- L
' Bbout 1,000 miles. This is the rout's
, ... , ., v . . .
o which the Secretary of War givet tha
- v ,., e.
Trc7rrrrM, among those which the got
:. . . .
- .mem nam en men in minmin,. an.i
surveyed. The com of a railroad by this
Voute will be very moderate, according i
e estimates, ana they ar beli b
jSjcretan toht ithin th inr.
A ao

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