The Winchester weekly appeal. [volume], November 14, 1856, Image 1

About The Winchester weekly appeal. [volume] (Winchester, Tenn.) 1856-1856

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MjaOMWj. HUM
THE WINCHESTER WEEKLY
SAL.
FAMILY NEWSPAPER DEVOTED TO rOLlTICS, LOCAL INTERESTS, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC NEWS, AGRICULTURE, MECIIAXIS5I, EDUCATION--
IN'Olil'ENMiEN'T OX ALL SUBJECTS.
APPI
VOLUME 1.
IS rUBUPUBU WIOHKI.V BV
GEO. E. TURVIS AND WM. J. SLATTEK,
TEEMS OF SUBSCKIPTION.
IN ADVANCE,"
WITHIN SIX MONTHS, .
" TWKLVK MONTHS,.
$ 200
2 60
3 no
INDUCEMENTS TO ri.l'JIS.
3 copies $5 00; 10 copies Slfl 00;
5 cl)ics 8 5 J5 copies 20 00.
FliOM PETERSON'S magazine.
HOW I WENT ANGLING,
AND WHAT WAS CAUGHT.
BY E. W. DKWtR8.
"I do wish, Bob, you would get marri
ed!" cried my mother, impatiently, one
day after she had endured my company a
whole long summer morning.
The suggestion was by no means anew
one, for I was five and thirty, and it had
been iterated ami reiterated, by all my
family ever since I was twenty-five. 1
therefore regarded my mother's remark' as
the beginning of a kind of family ritual,
and responded as usual,
"Why so, ma'am?"
"Because," she answered, shortly, de
viating somewhat from the beaten track,
"it's high time."
"Granted," said I.
"Yes," pursued my mother, "you're
old enough, and you're rich enough, and
you're clever enough; and why you don't
get married I can't see. You would be
much happier than you are, idling about
here, with nothing better to do than to
follow an old woman about from cellar
to pantry, putting your hands to every bit
of mischief which 'Satan sends for idle
hands to do' and all for want of some
sensible employment."
"Would pelting a foolish wife bo a sen
sible employment?" I asked, laughing.
"She need not be foolish."
"But the wise virgin will not have
1 T Ml i 1 r i . i
aim i win r.ui nave a loonsti one, am!
there is just my trouble."
"You are too modest by half," return-'
(d my mother, as :he was leaving the
room.
I pondered that last remark of my moth
er's. I thought it showed discernment
and judgment, and wondered that more
people wcro not of her way of thinking.
The melancholy general reflection that
modest worth is almost sure tp be under
rated, threw mo into n pensive and senti
mental mood, and snatching up my hat
and fishing tackle, I sauntered out ur a
reverie under cover of my favorite sopvt.
The subject of my late conversation
continued to occupy my thoughts. The
tiuth is, my mother was not more anxious
to see me married than I was to be so. I
had always regarded the married state as
the happiest; my heart glowed as much as
any man's ever did, at the picture my fan
cy drew of a loving family and happy
home. But the midchiefof it was, 1 could
not find any one to please me. I did
not consider myself, nor mean to be, over
fastidious, but among all the flat, flutter
ing, furbelowed fine ladies I met in soci
ety, I found so little naturo, so little good
ness, so little heart, that I could not full
in love with them let me try a3 I would
It was truly a lamentable case. Here
was I, a really clover enough fellow
well to do in the world considered, as I
Inew well enough, something of a catch,
willing and anxious to bo caught, and no
body skilful enough to do it. It was al
most a parallel case with that of the poor
pig in the nursery rhyme, which ran
about the streets ready roasted, with a
forkjBtuck in his side, crying, "Who'll
eat me? who'll eat me?"
Pondering this gloomy thought, I wan
dered on and on, quite beyond my usual
bounds, and at last, rather tired, 1 clam
bered up a steep rock which overhung the
brook I had been following, and sat down
to rest.
It was a true summer scene quiet and
warm and bright nicely shaded, howev
er, where I lay, and the cool sound of the
rippling water added just the only charm
possible, where all was so charming.
1 listened with delight; but in doing so
became sensible that besides the regular
monotonous babbling of the brooklet,
there mingled other sounds of splashing
water, which occurred at irregular inter
nals, and which seemed to proceed from
below the rock on which 1 reclined. My
curiosity led me to explore the mystery.
I clambered quite to the top of tho rock
find looked down over its furthest edge.
Cupid! god of love! how was I reward
ed! The rock on the side over which I
looked descended sheor some fifteen or
twenty feet, when u projecting ledgo form
ed a kind of natural seat, below which
the water rippled. The spot was rjuito
hung over and shaded by trees and thick
shrubs. It was a complete sylvan grotto,
and within it, as seemed most meet and
fitting was its nymph.
A younggirl, apparently about sixteon,
sat on the rocky ledge bathing her feet.
Her attitude and occupation reminded me
strongly of the pretty picture we have all
seen in old-fashioned annuals of Dorothea
except that my little beauty was evi
dently gay and fresh and lively, while Do
rothea in the picture is weary arid sad.
1 could not make up my mind for a time
to disturb so charming a scene, and there
fore continued to gaze in silence from my
lurking-place.
Ah! those dainty little white feet, with
their pink-tipped toes, which deemed so
fair through the clear water or flashed for
a moment above its surface flinging about
the bright glitteringdrops, and then plung
ing again beneath tho coo! bluenever
shall I forget them! The gracefully bunt
head with its bright golden curls and
braids, against which the sun glinted from
a clunk in the lenvy screen the lovely
neck and arm the cheek delicately tint
ed with pink, of which I now and then
caught n glimpse, formed a picture moic
enchanting than anything,I had ever im
agined. Wore than all, theperfect inno
cence and modesty which accompanied
all the movements of my sweet Diana
charmed me even more than her beauty.
My heart of ice suddenly burst into a
(lame. "Heavens!" cried I to myself, as
1 felt it thmnpin:; against my side "what
is this new sen.-atiuu? Bob I! your
hour is come. You're in love!"
At the moment I came to this conclu
sion, tin? j.or.t on my Lsliing line dropped
at tin feet of my charmer, and immedi
ately well I'm riot going to lay before
my confidential public an account of ail
my delicate and skilful ma neuvriiig
enough, that within a half an hour i was
seated socially by my water-fairy's side,
trying to look as ninth like Neptune or
Massariiello, or any other water hero, 1
did not care which, as 1 could. I gave a
sly tweek cr two to my shirt-col jar to
make it lie down, sailor fashion; turned
back my ivmtbands, and kept my hat
carefuil) or., so that the one little spot
on my crown which was growing thin,
might not be observed, Mattered myself I
should do prutty well on my ui;v; role.
Nora I soon discovered her sweet
name was most charmingly gay and
chatty. No prudery or thoughts of evil
ruffled the current of her child-like, inno
cenct thoughts. She was a careless child
at play, glad of a playfellow.
I would have joyfully lingered for hours
in that enchanted grotto; but ere long No
ra rose, and sauntered forth. I followed;
endeavoring to beguile the Mowery way
she led ino as agreeably for her as the
wolf did for Little lied Riding Hood; and
while schemes, as deep laid and app.opri
ate, though less blood-thirsty toward my
innocent companion, formed themselves
in my mind.
I was never in such spirits I was
charmed with myself in the novel char
acter of wooer. The railroad rapidity
with which my drama progressed excited
me. In one short hour, I, the impregna
ble, the flinty-hearted, had not only fall
en head over heels in love myself, but al
so, Iflattered myself but muni of all
things I hate a boaster. t
However, as I have said, I was in high
spirits and excited, and among other non
sense ventured at last to say, laughing-
ly,
"Do you know, sweet Nora, that I have
been haunted by a singular presentiment
ever since the nient 1 first caught a glimpse
of you?"
Wha) is it?" asked she smiling.
"That you will one day be my wife!"
I exclaimed, with the bold emphasis of
conviction and determination.
Nora burst into the merriest of laughs,
and at the same moment turned into a lit
tle path which led down from the door of
a rose-wreathed cottage. A young and
handsome gentleman advanced hastily to
meet os, and Nora, with the demurest of
WINCHESTER, TENN., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14,
mischievous smiles, courtesied low, as
f- . , 1 . . I I 1 1 . t V .
"V'T10 nor ,1UfcUana: 1 Bawthe,
. ,liy, 11Sc.nei, cu-
. jr,...M.,oMOi8nimeiromunaer
w uV,alilim;jlIW iae u.mcuity
she had to repress her merriment-1 saw
what a fool I had been making of myself,
nnd I turned precipitately to fly. Nora's
pent up hughter now burst forth; peal
afterpea! rung on the air, andl heard my
tormenter call after me,
"I n,y, pray, air angler, return, and I
w. 11 snow you my baby!"
Vv ell, lad.es and gentlemen, it's twen-
ty years from that day to this; but I'm a
bachelor yet, I suppose I always shall be,
forlorn as lar off as ever from finding
my 1 'a
I cannot say the adventure I have nar-
rated had any very deep or lasting effect
upon me am! yet it had though; for since
that same summer afternoon I have never
gone angling, and if ever I chance to see
a silly girl paddling her feet in the water,
I run as if ten thousand were after me.
VIF One of tho most charming and
touching of all newspaper paragraphs,
which has come to us for many a day, is
the fallowing little sermon from the pen
of .n.-on G. Chester. Read it you who
would learn the beauty of holiness:
" Ch, my Brother! What a Lie-hU "
.Such WP. ,U i r J
n i ( r. v t ii
it i . . . J o
in, wlioi-e pure spirit was re-
centiv lu
riiisr;ii witfi pinions to doss m
quiet dignity from all itscares. She bad
long since ceased to find her chiefest plea
sures in "tho beggarly elements of this
world; her lile had been a beautiful nr.
duplication of the religion of Jesus;
and the valley of the shadow of death
had no tenors for her. No wonder
seeing ihat it was lighted by the smiles of
tho Crucified.
One who was present at the death-bed
of thi.-i daughter of the Cross declares it
to have btcn the sweetest picture; of
Christian resignation and triumph that
could be conceived. Peace crowded the
brow of the sufferer, like a living halo;
smiles, serene as a June mornin;', cover
i i .... i i . , .
on aer paiCiips, ,nM tier eye, tiiout'h its i
color had fa. led, was as bu-ht i:S the
o veiling star. God had set lii a-al upon
her and for her to die was b!ct;sed and
beautiful.
"What a liuht!" V(! cannot hesi
tato as lo the souu-c of that lijdit. With
tho hero of the Apocalypse, s,o " saw
Heaven open." The brightm-sj of Para
dise v:a made manifest to her earthly
vision, fur a token and for a joy. The
sunr-hine of the New Morning broke
upon her dropping eyelids, and flashed
upon the way i.he was soon to travel.
No wonder that she exclaimed with rap
turous vehemnnco, "What a light!"
"What a light!" Was it not the as
surance of a lifo well spent of a glori
ous triumph over the last enemy of a
diadem that waited far up beyond the
blue our eyes can see for her radiant fore
head? Is there nothing in religion when
it paints r.o lovely a scene as this ? Is
faith a fable when so it strengthens the
soul ?
"What a Ibrht ! " Which is better, the
sunshine or the storm ? the beam or tho
shadow? the crown of Abel or the brand
marl; of Cain ?
Life is real, !a'c w earnest,
A nd the ravc is not its goil ;
Dust thou art, to dust rcturncth,
Was not spoken of the soul.
It is meet that we should labor. It is
not wrong to occupy our minds with the
cares of the world to a'certain extent;
but if the world i.i made ourall, the light
that burst upon the eyes of this dying
girl shall never bless our own. Alone,
in the dark shall wo drift out upon tho
terrible billows, and thero meet with a
shipwreck from which there is no salva
tion. The mind that is manlv should
consider these things,
i . .
"What a light! " Lord, let me die the
death of the righteous; and let my last
cntl bo like hers.
Easy. It is said that there is a saw
mill down East which saws so easy, that
when a young man was sitting on a log
whilo the saw was running through, he
was sawed in halves, and did not discov
er it until the overseer told him to roll
off!
Tklt.. That is not the best sermon
which makes the hearers to go away talk
ing to one another and praising the speak
er ; but that which makes them go away
thoughtful and serious, and hastening to
be alone.
The Reasos. The nian that "didn't
have the money to spare to subscribe for
a newspaper," was seen on board a steam
boat, a few days since, playing "brag"
at ten dollars a stake !
In the interior of Peru has been dis
covered a beautiful tunnel under a river,
the work of the old Inca Indians, and a
lasting proof of their civilization.
Compliment to "Jour Printers."
. John C. Rives, in a recently published
letter, on the subject of public printing,
has a word of suggestion to writers for
the press, and of compliment to the jour,'
whose duty it not uufrequcntly is to make
sens0 out of every senseless chirography.
None but a writer for the daily press can
comprehend how much truth there is in
the veteran printer's remarks. Many
mcmbm of CongresSi anJ cke not a few
greater men, have boon surprised at the
respcctabIe flgure they cul in priljtf with.
out thinking of the toilsome labor and
the exercise of better talent than their
own, which had been expended by tho
, .j0Ur" printer in licking into shnne tlm
( - i
; message, report or speech furnished by
them. Mr. Rives says :
j f i10ve 8eo the manuscript writing of
most great men of the country during the
' past twenty years, and I think I may say
that no twenty of them could stand the
I test of the scrutiny of one half of the
i Journeymen nrintrrs pm.,lr,v,l !n
' 1 ...r.,w
office.
This fact will he vouched for by every
editor in the Union. To tho poor "jour"
many a "great man" owes his reputation
for scholarship, and were the humble
typo-sticker? to resolve, by concert, to
.. . I . I . 1 r.
7 , , 1 m u";ir ,mn"' ,or cven
nno lltt!e w,;,:!- Fisoly as it is written
by the authors, there would be more rep
utations slaughtered than their devils
could tbake a stick at in twenty-four
hours. Statesmen would become ".-.mail
by degrees and beautifully less." Many
an a .is would have the lion's bide torn
from his limbs. Men, whom the world
call writers would wake up of a morning
and find themselves famous as mere
pretenders humbugs cheats.
Words. What sweet things are gen
tle wnrls, sweeter than the first young
rose of summer time ! words that breathe
of love and tenderness and comfort to
the troubled . pirit and the biokcn heart,
are a aooiiiiug balm a treasure to Le
cherished loudly as riches sweeter than
anything earth enn bestow.
"It is not much the world can give,
With all its subtle art,
And gold and gems are not the things
To satisfy the heart ;
But ob ! if those who cluster round
Tho altar and th'j hearth,
Have gentle words and loving smiles,
How beautiful is earth !
Coon Ahvir.K, Don't got in a fluster
and go on a buster, nor allow yourself to
terrified be; but keep a cool head, and
never be I,d to join in a hurrah and
spree.
Love. Love is the golden thread that
runs through the sombie-hued woof of life,
like a single ray of light beaming out on
a darksome midnight. It'is "the one thing
bright" that makes life pleasant the ba
sis of all our enjoyments; and without it
everything would turn to bitterness and
sorrow. It is like oil upon the troubled
waves of the ocean; it allays our fiercer
passions; it tranquilizes ns, and makes us
more humane. Vet there aie some who
scoff at it. To them is unknown the ho
liest and most ennobling emotion of which
our nature is capable; and such persons
we should rather pity than despise.
I'llESENT FASHION.
Bonnet on die shoulder.';
Noso up to the sky;
Both hands full if flounces,
I!a..-ed "a la" Sliang. high;
Undcis!:ii-!s bespattered,
Bonk amazing noil;
All your silks get "watered,"
Sweeping down the streets!
Salt. The sea is still the chief source
of the salt we use. There are one hun
dred and forty-five millions of square j
miLs of sea each gallon of its wateri
containing foity per cont. of salt. The
whole mass, therefore, amounts to six !
thousand, four hundred and forty-one bill-1
ions of tuns; so that, il die sea Were evap- j
orated and the salt crystalizcd, the latter
would form a layer seven hundred feet
thick over tho bottom of tho sea, or two
thousand feet thek over the solid land of
the earth.
"M good woman," said the colporteur
as he offered her a tract, "have you got the
gospel here?"
"No sir, we havn't," replied the old
lady, "but they havo got it awfully down
in Kansas; brother Beecherscntit there!"
1850.
TO EMMA.
D M R A, would that I might C
U sinilo as once 15 l,
& bid my troubled bosom 11
E Z &. calm once more.
I N V mteh those luippy hours
That ciiino in blest 11 A,
When U for mo culled Luvu's swo.t
flowers,
And siiid they'd ne'er D K.
'Twas but mi M T talc U told,
As I e;in pin inly Cj
For now youreyes look dull mid colt!,
Whene'er they rest un mo.
X M N well my wounded breast,
Nor jeer my Implex fate;
Your 1' T ini'lit, it' once confessed,
31 y griefs X 10 U 8.
I C U It 2 B Jld
By 0 so poor us I;
12ut, M A. U nmy yet he placed
In sorrow by mid by.
I oft have dwelt in XT C
Upon your beauteous form;
Your chimin are now like lo nio
That glisten through the stonn
ilns! U ijpnni my CO,'! Mid ?a
I'll mai tv iiloliie Abiy,
A nd yve will go to 0 I 0,
Or else to I 0 A.
Then fore ye well, U fickle 1,
1 ne'er can V;
Hut iil'ler ail is siid nmi done,
JUy Atoll is fickle 2!
I'll put a f 2 my breast
U know the reason Y;
Ami when I close lay I I to rent,
D it ?d A, don't jroi.d byn.
Sunday Mci'cury.
Awrct.. To kiss a rosy -che.. l:;.d iil,
and find your mouth filed with" v'enitian
red," and die growing pale on it. A
greenhorn did it once she fainted and lie
mizzled.
Consolation
verr poor, cud
-.n Italian, who wa.-i
very inui h addicted to j
stroph i.'.e Fortune : ii us:
.iess I I lam eai;.-t 110 kc !
i
piny, used to apnst
"Trea.. I:ei o is god.h
mo loie, but thou
canst not uiai:e mi
pay."
iSui'i-ustition. In tho north of Ens
land, (says die "Notes and Queries,'')
when several children are brought to be
baptiou.l at the same time, gient anxiety
is siiovvn oy the people lest iiic gu is .-mount
take the precedence of the boys, in
which case it is believe ! the latter, when
arrived at inru.'s estate, would be beard
less. Anothfk I'kiz:: Sosg. The following
is said to have been one of the Jenny
Liiid Prize Songs. It is beautiful :
I turned mine eye from owodoaVi tliore,
As freedoi.i ;oiiitcd ait.. ;i!':i!
And heard amid the hillo'.Vri' -orr,
Ifor pr.ii.:e ; of this tttslcrii sitar.
Homo of the h iinclesj and I lie bravo ;
band of the proud sail pal riol lice;
forih o'er the azure mountain wave,
B.iund.i mv glad heart to wo'icoine thee!
' ... ii, ,. . ... ..:.!.. i .)
Land of the lnbrhty thought nnd deed,
lfo)C of the outcast pilgrim brave;
Where freemen's L-word won freedom's
meed
Hail to the shores these billows iave.
Sons of the liijjh ntrl i.auohty sires
Who Brun.-c.viek's lion laughed to eccrn,
Slill cherish rrecdom'j vestal tirep,
'i'iil ail the earth hail IVecdnai's morn.
Do Not Want Peace The Boston
Ledger, in speaking of the rascally ami
unprincipled determination of the Black
Republicans to keep up the disturbances
in Kan. as until after the. election, says:
Again an intelligent but zealous Freir.on
tor was the other day in our otiic.:, and
he distinctly and boldly avowed that his
party did irU want peace, and did not in
tend to have the Kansas exciienn nt quiet
ed, nor th5 1 ansa i outrages pacified till
after the election.
Have an Aim in Life. Every man, J
rich or poor, o. g.it lo have some
le absorbing j
geiiKT.t, to j
V '"pose, smue active engagement, toiaiut iiKaaoiiitv newspaper
v,''licl1 :is regies are devoted. Not en-
j'l'"'"t' but DT;TV ,!n;i' ;ilu-st be the aim
ol ,'a':'1 ''le mart !ia3 3 lic''t lo live
"Pon 11,1 ta;r cnrth- t0 "'e air, to
consume its food, to enjoy us ninny ueau
ties, nnd produce nothing in return. He
lias no right to enjoy the blessings of civ-
ilization, or society, and of civil liberty, 0lll, or ,Kore of them among its qui
without contributing earnest pnd self-de-j et n'u.cm. They least also of ancient
nying labor of head and heert, or hand, to ; a!l,l uufl honorable lineage, clainiiiij de
tho welfare of mankind. Certainly no ' H-ent in the direct line from Kiiie Solo-
1
man can be truly relgious wkomakesgrat-
ification, as distinct from self-denying ex- J
ertion, the great object ol life, and he!
putJ pleasure exactlyin th plice of duty. I
jVUMBEK 39.
Kttf.y-Bodics.
Ilusy bodies have infested tho world in
id I a,:is. In the apostolic days they
were i oncoming tlicnr elvrs with "other
men's matters," nnd a very casual glanco
at society will convince any one that
they are "not all .h ad yet.' We have a
few things to say of them.
. They aie aveiy active and industri
ous class. No matter how indolent oth
ers may be, and bow careless even about
their own u Hairs, busy bodies can always
find something to do. Their own con
cerns never press upon them so heavily
that they cannot take time to appropriate
to other people's. The physician may
reach a point whero his calls exceed his
ability to attend to them: the lawyer may
be applied to by more clients than ho can
possibly do justice to; but never so with
the busy body. He has time enough for
all cases, however numerous.
2. Busy bodies are remarkable for their
expanded views. They do not limit
themselves within the narrow circle of
their own homes or places of business.
They are conscious of a capacity for a
vastly wider field. No pent up Utica can
confine their powors. No brick wall, nor
doors, nor gates, can shut them in.
They must havo a care for everybody in
the village, or neighborhood, or congrega
tion. And is not this scriptural? Does
not the Bible say we must love our neigh
bors a.3 ourselves? What harm, then, in
exercising a kindly oversight as to the
personal, domestic, and financial inter
est of cne's friends and every day ac
quaintances? So, busy bodies can stand
upon a text of Scripture when they wish
to look over tho fence into other people's
private affair.-;.
:i. Hu.-y bodies are remarkable for their
memories. They can listen to a score of
narratives, great and small, a- to "other
men's matters," in a single day, and yet
they will distinctly remember the details
in enc'i particular rase. This may be
owing in part to their not allowing what
th
nave
icai't
long lo lie dormant; in
asmuch as the news gatnereu at one piace
is goner; illy dispensed ai the next, and so
on, ii n I , by the time the day's round has
been completed, tho same tiling has been
told a score of times. Not precisely tho
i,
same tiling cither, inasmuch as busy
bodies falsify the old proverb, " Rolling
stone; gather no moss," since the further
their stories roll, the larger they grow
until one would at hst scarcely imagine
them to be the same they bad met at the
starting point,
-1. Buy bodies arc remarkable for their
wisdom. To this fine and rare quality
there seems scarcely a limit in their
case. Busy body can decide exactly
whether Mr. Gctalong can afford to drive
a carriage and havo a country house;
whether Mr. Gdalong a!1' ber children
are not .-pending more money than the
good man is making; and can shake his
head ominously when the Gctalongs are
the topic of di-eouive, sagely remarking
that "there always will be some fast peo
ple." Busy body is especially au fa'-t
in the concerns of the minister and his
family. He can tell to a penny what
the Rev. Mr. Mcekocs.i should pay a
pound for beef, ami for potatoes by the
half peck; whether he should have pur
chased a new suit in the month of Feb
ruary or in the latter part of March;
whether Mrs. Meekness' lastdrcr.s should
have been silk, ca.dur.ere, de laine, or
ca!i. o ; and abso how long Mr. Meekness
ought to pray and preach; how often he
should .isit his people, and whether or
not he houId venture to let any hair
grow on his face. In short, there is
scarcely any tiling in which Busybody is
not 'Looked up,' even to tho extent of
directing those impersonations of wisdom,
and infalibiiity newspaper editors
what they oug
a;:d ought -not to have
put mto tm co.a.r.n-.
5. The family of Basybodies is a very
exten. ive one. Not a country under ti e
sun is there where some of thci.i arc not
to be found; not a villjga or rural iicigh
borhocd is thcro, which cannot j oint to
- ----- sj
mon.
The roa. I to Wealth it through the hall
of In !titr;
is
(I