The San Antonio Ledger. (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 41, Ed. 1 Saturday, November 8, 1856 Page: 1 of 4
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: ... tt*a * '
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V-.R. Casss
Vj', the hfmd
THE SMITH OF
In .the Principality of Hqhénlob®.
a villitge called Kagenbach, where,,
years ago. the following.ben^r)Ce^<lip(
event took [lace. One afternoon ¡o.
net-
to receive
lv*l a
bwwk. Tkuso
came up convulsively in her boi
Mary asked no questions.
cause of Eften's agitation. It
bad been,
b d rftep Seen, • ' LoVe le'crriie all
And m
That I bad never dreamt before—
Never befoi?, 0 Love, Sweet La,-e l
unJerstood"
er'that jBi
of receiv
ltd «nd
desert atttmds,
fa
«athefíHeutlam^ * ,
(wen disa
money f(
here was
moméitt
"What nan j'ori dijf" asfeej'tbe tailor, looking
jolly upoii bis visitor.
I <án make pantaloons aiid'vests;" answerqS tlie
a gloryin the morn
bid 'tile
t times
nter.-r
ated, bri
And what m
pantaloons
fhtn thfe lateb was lifted, the door
the'tnilor stepped Into tlio room.
The sound of fefet árotised the dl
ent and deep,
ves in sleep j.
nscious nod,
Of ¡God,
t he'd take,
Í
; State
o niárlceil
Within lile
"¥
"""^5?; S^r.in
\ county; uv.
*"" • ' *
Mwkance.
«i*« ■
Fifty Cents additional
i yearly advertisements,
ficd as to length of time will
1, and charged accordingly,
vita muni be paid fur in ad-
\ at 'this Office must be paid
ARRANGEMENTS.
Antonio.
"arrives ttt San Antonio six times
nd leaves six times a week.
hhT
jia y<
^ RhlTI
iiesdays,
Jborsdays,
tes
AUSTIN.
jiei'aiits, arrivrs,
Sundays, Saturdays,
- " at 12 m.
SOWN.
dkparts, arrives,
Sundays, Sundaya,
Tuesdays, Wednesdays,
Thursdays, Fridays,
at 10 p. i , at 5 p. m.
rrives,
KesdayB,
|bursdays,
nturdays,
fat 7 p. m.
Tuesdays,
Thursdays,
at 10 p. m.
Via SEGUIN,
departs,
Mondays,
Wednesdays,
Fridays,
a 110 p. m.
«GOLIAD.
departs,
Mondays,
at C a.m.
.EAGLE PASS.
EL PASO.
arrives, heparts, arrives, departs,
ntnrdftys, Mondays, 25th of every 1st of every
[at 12 m. at 8 a. r. Mónth. Month.
FREDERICKSBURG JIAT1,.
Lrrit-es Saturday^, f P. m.; departs Mondays, 7 a. m.
NEW ORLEANS MAIL.
¡Leaves every Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, at
^ p. M.,and arrives twice a week irregular.
^11: Mail matter, must be dfopped iu the Office by
.M¡ (TO the night of departures.
I1KNRÍ L< RADAZ, P. M.
pT Ol' Tit JÉ J1I5MBEIIS AHÍ Ol'IICIiUS
JIOUSE QF IlEPllESKNTÁTÍV F,S
OP TIIB ¡¿fit) ivj -. >:j'j V'i wi J
LmSUTUBE OP Til? STATE OP TEXAS
r-i£¿r*á.
a..Pi Beo^ Speaker,
jdrian, J.
itm
a*b-, it. b:
«II. A.'if. ■
,rin«V, \fMtmjll J.
own, Jubii Hunry
(rreiu; A Hon t). _
p\).v,'
iirlt<in, X II.
volnn'l, \yilllam II
velaiul, (L.
asljv, Juiinh F.
k, % M.
■rympie, W„v.
'hay, J« hn W.
.i«lon,' W._ «r.
irlcn, Stophonlf.
*ri*t Jupk
nni'«, Xsuiio.N.
ton, tí I}.
tíon, S: J. .
fhért'j. t.tí1
tor, M. I). * -
n, mnwt
mes L.
,T.L.
VA.r/
pusT-oryicE .
Tyler,
San Augustine,
Nuw Unumfel.H,
^V6<>dlsih'l,
TTott-Mfle,
Parii,
; (Jiilveston,
Marshall,
• otéon (3 in,
Wooilville,
.San Antoufo;
F/ihorty,
liuntdvillo,
El .
Mount Pleasant,
(Jeor^v?towff,
I/a (.frange,
Colbthbu^
Gon alo.«,
Tyler, .
Wharton,
An<lord«:n:,
' Inrks.Ville,
Me Kinney,'
Henderson,
Lockhart,
Jtarir
"•Cólunibin,*
La Grange,
iaffatt;
t ltenderson,
Cameron,
Hookei^d,
Beaumont,
jonvillo,
vBjowuiivilie,
li!tye« o,
Athens,
HoltatÚriUe,
t Magnolii
JOrtliS (
00?-.
[)rtsden/..
| Antonio,
Xeona,:
Llvir -
gJefftirsoi
Bdiabarg, .
^oOriKnIóCiiy.
giloohoo,
ádtson,
h y Chroye,
Jtfw:
KtMtben 3.'
; II. W.
L.
i f"A- ■
ft
..W.M1'
s. Btihu
■ J ...
Mi
r raokett,
Sherman, '■
elby viHa.vj
Boston,
Ruak,
Ijong' Point,
Bfonhnm,
Altb;
Lexington,
MarehMI,
Barkovlllc,
Ilondcrsun,
Qnltman,
Riobmonil,
Marshall,
^olunnoy,
Houston,
Bastrop,
San Antonio",
Oalf.Mlon,
. San Antonio,
Austin,
•fl***! H-J'
Ban Áu^nstlne,
t Pleuavt ■
Run,
TTocjnii:s
Webt .
iSimtli.
San August ino
Coinnl.
Ho].kins.
AustiC.
Lamar.
C}a)y.eetoiii
llarriion.
Frcestoiio.
Tyler.
Kcxür.
J H-ertv.
\f.>lk«r.
lvl Paso.'
5'inis.
Williumw-r..
Fayette.
Cnliirn.In.
Goñ&itcs.''
. Sailth.
WbrU'.t .n.
tí rili! f-!*.
I'.iil River.
i Dllih.
Riifk.
Caldwell.
Cherokee.
Brazoria.
Fayette.
Hopkins,
Rusk.
Milain.
Útíhf.
Jefferson,
(fuadalupo.
-Madlsoii:
Cameron.
Newt^lt
ITpaliur.
Hemlorson.
La Vaco.
Anderson.
Nueces.
Foil.
Navafro.
Do zar.
Leotí^
Folk.
Cass.
Hidalgo,
f !*'fcftrr.
NaoogdocHfes.
Karnes.
Anderson.'
Tarrant..
Rusk.
Pftunin.
Panola.
Nacogdoches.
Houston.
Oirayson.
Shelby.
Bowie.
Cherokeo.
Washington.
Washington.
Cherokee.
Burleson.
Harris.
Harrison.
Newton.
Busk.,
Wood. '
Fort Bend.
Harrison.
Cliorokeo. .
Collin.
Barría.
Bastrop.
Bexar.
Galveston.
■< Jackson.
Ban Angustino.
Dalla .
OFFICERS.
' Cleric —R. Ht Ha+nia, Anilin. Travia county,
uittani Cfcrfc.-—Tbo*as P. Ocjiiltkkf., NaoOgdOehcs,
"'ptTulk.—W. L. Cbauikm, Atatln, Travis do.
■ BoPKa.Tjnchburj, IJonirooyntj
nAai.e« Coset, f-ayaeb,. Calhoun
Arm .—W.luuw B. mtsdas, San Aagustíftei
Í S^tanl-iu-Jrnu.—T. MaLTO , Contoana, Ra-
Satiu* Weaver, Haasaot Bun, Dallas
t AwIktMr^l ®. P .a«t*m, BhH, Ortne Co.
W. F. W«ea*, Sao Antonio, B«xar t «nty
" Have you ever forked for a merchant tailor ?
he asked. ,
" Yes, sir, 1 have Worked for Mr. Wright, ' replied
the girl. <
"lias he nothing for yon to do ? "
•" So, not just noivj he has regular.hands' who
always gotilia'-prefbrence."
" Did your work snit him ? " '
•••" Ho never fourtd iiny íanlt with it."
" Where do you live 1"
" In Cherry street, No. — .'!■
Mr, Lawson stood and mused for a short time.
'• I have a vest befo," he at lungth said, taking a
small bundle from the shelf, "which I want by to-
morrow evening at the latest. If vou think you can
do it very neatly, and have it done in tiine, you can
take it."
"It shall bo done in time," said the young woman,
reaching out eagerly for tho bundle.
"And, remember, I shall expect it well mad^ If I
like your work I will give you more."
"I will endeavor to pleaso you," returned the
young girl.
" To-morrow evening, recollect."
" Yes sir, I Will have it done."
The girl turned and went quickly away.
In a buck room, in tlie third story of an old houso
in Cherry Street, was the homo of tho poor sewing
girl. As sho entered, sho said in a cheerful voico ¿
her sick sister-—
"Mary, I havo got work ; it is a vest, and I must
bave it done by to-morrow evening."
"Can you finish it in time 1" inquired the invalid,
in a feeble voice.
' Oh, yes. easily!"
It proved to l^c white Marseille?. As soon as the
Invalid ¿aw this, she said:
" I am nfinid you will not be able to get it done in
time, Ellen ; yon are not fast with tho needle, and
Koahló ; you are very far from being well."
"Don't fear in the least, Mary; I will do all I
engaged to <io "
It was after dark tlie next night when' Ellen
finished the garment. She whs weary and faint,
having takes no food since morning. The want of
everything, and particularly for herself and sister,
made seventy-fivo cents, the sum sho expected to
receive for making the garment, a treasure in her
imagination. She hurried off with tho vest the
moment it was fbiisbed, saying to her sister, " 1 will
be back as soon as possible, and bring'you some cor-
dial, and something for our supper and breakfast.''
" Here it is half-past eight o'clock, and the vest is
not in yet," said Mr. I.awson, in a fretful tone. "1
bad my .doubts about the girl when I gave it to her.
liut she looked so.poor, and seemed so earnest about
the work, that I w«& weak enough to trust her with
the parraeiiL" At tbis moment Ellen came in and
laid the vesf'on (lié counIei^ wbero Mr. I.awson was
Standing. She said nothing, neither did he. Taking
tlie vest, he unfolded it in a manner, which plainly
showed him not to be in a very placid frame of
mind.
• Goodness ! '.' he ejaculated, turning over the gar-
ment, and looking at the girl. She shrunk back from
the counter and looked frightened.
"Well, tbis is a pretty jub for ono to bring in ! "
said tint tailor, in an excited tone of voice ; "a pretty
jot , indeed 1" at the sanie time tossing the vest away
from him in angry contempt, and walking off to
another part of the store.
Ellen remained at the counter. At length he said
in her, "You need not stand there, Miss, thinking 1
fim going to pay you for ruining a job. It is bad
enough to lose my material and customer. Injustice
you should pay me for the vest; but there is no hope
fot thatf So tafeé yonrsfilf off, and never let me set
eyes on y to again."
Ellen made no reply; sho turned round, raised her
hand to her forehead, and bursting into tears, walked
sltfwlv away.
After Ellen had goné, Mr. LaWson returned to the
front part of the store, and taking up the vest brought
it bacfe to where ah elderly man was sitting, and
holding it towards him, said, by way of apology for
the part he had taken in the I'rttlS icene, "That is a
beautiful article for a gentleman to wear, isn't it?
The man made no reply, and the tailor, after a pause,
added, " 1 refused to pay her as a matter of principle.
Sho knew she could not make tlié garment when she
took it away. She will be moro carefftil how she
tries to impose hcnelf upon customer tailors as a
good vest maker."
« Perhkps" said the elderly gentleman in a mild
way, "necessity drove her to undertake a job that
required greater skill than sho possessed. She cer-
tainly looked very poor."
" Itrwa'8 because she appeared so poor and miserable,
that I was weak enotigh to place the vest in her
bands," replied Sir. Lawson, in a less severe tone of
Voice.—" But it was an imposition for het to ask for
work she did not know how to make."
"Mr. Lawson, said tlie old gentleman, who was
known as a pious and good man, "we should not
blame with too milch seventy the person who, in
extreme Want, undertakes to perforin a piece of work
for which she lacks tho requisite skill. The fact that
a young pirl, like the one who was just hero, is
willing, iil her extreme poverty, to labor instead of
sinking into vice and idleness, shows her to possess
true virtue and integrity Of character, which we
should be willing to encourage, even at some sacrifice.
Work is slack now as you are aware, and there is
but. little doubt that she bad been to many places
seeking employment before she came to yog. It may
be that she and others are dependent upon the receipt
of the money that Wan expected to"be paid for making
the vest you hold in your hand. The expression as
she turned away, her lingering steps, her drooping
form, and her whole demeanor, had ill them a language
which told mo of all this, and even more."
A change came over the tailor's countenance ¡ " I
did not think of that," fell in a low tone from his
lips.
.fiT did not think you did, brother Lawsoti," said
his' monitor; "we are all more apt to think of our-
selves than others.—Tho girl promised the vest in
the evening, and «o far as that was concerned, she
performed her contract. Is the vest made very
bwlly?"
Mr. Lawson took up the' garment and examined it
more closely. " Well, I can't say that it is badly
done, but dreadfully soiled and' tiimpled, and it is
not *8 neat a job as it should be, nor at all such as I
wished it."
ill this is very annoying ofcourac, bnt stiil We
Id be willing to make BOme excuses for the short
jig of others. The poor girl may havo a sick
mother to attend to. which hns constantly interrupted
her. and Under such cUxumstances, you could barely
wonder If-the garment should come somewhat soiled
-under her hands.- All this may be the case ¡ and if
so, y on could not And it iu your heart to speak un-
kindly to the poor creature, milch less tnrn her away
angrily, and Without the money ste toiled for eo
earnestly." ,. ,
i« i did no think of that," was murmured in a low,
suppressed tone voice.
filien, o 'returning home, cntetvd the fóom, and
without uttering a word, threw herself upon the bed
by tho sido of her sick sister, and burying her face
and BHen raised Jlerselfi:
with a countenAnee si"
"I'félt th'f\t l die
way''that I did,"
the bed, Kftd hoi
etrriédP
mado (tfith I Bfst thóíí^bt it"was. To-inorrów I will
send you moro work. Try to chécr up."
Mv. Lawson, finding that his presence was em-
barassing, withdrew, leaving tho two sisters so deeply
affected that they could but look at liini with thank-
fulness.
Shortly after this they received a basket, in which
was a supply of nourishing food, and a sum of monoy
to ^procure such articles as might bo necessary for
the sick sister. Though no one's name was sent with
it, they were not in doubt as to the individual who
sent it. Mr. Lawson was not an unfeeling man, but
like too many others in tho world, he did not always
think.
THOUGHT AND FEEI.INC-AJTCIEJÍT
NOTIONS.
The ancients entertained notions respecting the
seats of thought, passion and feeling, in various parts
of the human system, which now seems to us of the
queerest kind. The old philosophers wero pretty
generally agreed about tho seat of the nous or mind,
which they represented to bo the brain j and this
notion has been almost universally ndopted since
their times, as is sufficiently evident from our every-
day expressions—"long-headed fellow," "plenty of
brains, or nous," une grande force de tele, as the
French say, applied to intolügent persons; and "num-
skull,", "thick-headed," "addle-pated," "brainless,"
and so forth, as applied to a fool. But, about the
seat of the passions and feelings, there has been the
greatest diversity of opinion. These were for the
most part plnnted in tho viscera of tho chest and
belly, 'l'bus Hippocrates and Plato stated that,
while the reason was placed in the brain, the pas-
sions resided in the heart and the diaphragm; and
Galen, while ho placed the animal.spirits, including
the irascible feelings and tho animal passions, in the
heart and liver. They spoke of the heart as being
ad vilaw (for,) and of the brain as ad bedlam vitam
(for elevated or rational life.) This notion of the
heart and other viscera being the scat of feeling, has
becotno welded into our ordinary forms of speech;
and we speak of a "hearty" or "heartless" person,
though it is now ascertained that the heart has no
more feeling, as the word is understood, than a piece
of leather. And players and others, when they want
to express deep emotion, arc still in the practice of
thuipJlipg their chests with their hands, and appeal-
ing to their heart, or, still oftener, by those ignorant
of anatomical-geography, to their stomach and liver.
Some of the old writers seated affection in the liver,
and Charles Lamb, in ono of his essays, comically
imagines the caso of our now popular phraseology
being thus altered, and a gentletnan^ddressing a lady
thu* : "Allow me, madam; to make you a tender of
my hand—and liver! " IIow thoroughly ludicrous!
The liver was also supposed to bo the organ of grief;
Jeremiah, representing his afliictio'n, says that his
liver was poured out. But this organ was more or-
dinarily represented as tho seat of fear. In this sense
Shakespeare flften employs it—
Go prick thy face, and ovor-rcil thy foar,
Thou lily-livored boy.
lie speaks of cowards, who, inward-searched, havo
livers white as inilk. Hamlet says :
Am I a coward/ * it cannot be,
But I mil pigeon-Iiverod, anil lack gall
To make oppression bitter, Ac.
In like manner, the spleen was regarded as tho seat
of envy and malico—hence tho word still in use
"splenetic," "shows his spleen," &c. Tho stomach
was tho 6eat of desire, and to this day we speak of
not "having a sto nach" for a thing. Tho old scrip-
tural writers regarded the iower viscera as tho seat
of feeling; the phrases—'his bowels yearned with
compassion," "his bowels were moved towards him,"
are very frequent; and Job, on one occasion, speaks
of tho "belly preparing:deceU." The diaphragm also
was supposed to play an important part, being the
imagined seat of prudence. All this we lantrh at now,
because we know better, having been enlightened by
the knowledge of anatomy—a science comparatively
unknown down to a recent periotW It is only about
two hundred years Bince Ilarvoy discovered the cir-
culation of the blood; previous to that time the
arteries were supposed to carry air, and lience their
name. Since then, great advances have been made,
especially in tho study of the nervous system, by
Bell, Ilunter, and others. To this day, however, the
popular phraseology reflects the ancient notions of
the spits of feelings and passions, though we may not
dream of this, when wo are appealing to "the heart"
of man, or talking of the "spleen," or "gall," or
"pbrensy" of his nature.
£WMNN$1
smiled;
;ht darkness hovvJed,
... , ta panthers prowled;
And, on my word, mosquitoes there wero found,
Many of which, I think, would weigh a pound!
More fierce and ravenous than the hungry sbark—
Tbey oft \yere known to climb the trees and bark!"
Tho audienco seemed taken by surprise-
All started up and rubbed their wondering eyesT;
At such a tale they all were much amazed,
Each drooping lid was in an instant raised,
And wo must say, in keeping heads erecf,
ft had its destined and desired effect.
But tales like this credulity appalled;
Next day the deacons on their pastor called,
And beggod to know how ho could ever tell
Tho foolish falsehoods frota his lips that fell.
"Why. sir," said me," think what a monstrous weight
Were they as large as you were pleased to state 1
You paid they'd weigh a pound ! It can't be true.
Wo'llnot beliove it, though'tis told by you !"
"Ah, but it is!" the parson quick replied ;
"In what I stated you may well ponlide;
Many, I said, sir—and the story's good—
Indeed I think many of them would!"
The deacon saw at once that he was caught,
Yet deemed himself relieved on second thought,
" But then the barking—think of that, good man;
Such monstrous lies! Explain it if you can!,"
"Why that, my friend I can explain with ease—
They climbed the bark, sir, when they climbed the
trees!" [Spirit of the Times.
SONG OF THE WATER
BY t. i.. beddoes.
Wild with passion, sorrow-beladen,
An Affair of Honor between two Culluo
Pussons.—The «Sgro fellow who told the story stut-
ters, and is a curious looking cliap besides, with his
great thick lips and rolling eyes. Ha works on the
rice plantation of Wm. A. Wrightv Esq ynjid came to
■his mbstcr one day to tell of-the terrible fight that
had just taken place between Julius and Pomp. The
mtinner in which he told it would have made tho
most serious of men burst his Bides With laughing,
He was very much frightened, stuttered awfully,
rolled his eye wildly, and gesticulated vehemently!
It is impossible to depict the fellow's looks and
actions—we can méfely give the facts.
Julius and Pomp weie rice field hands, and with
other negroes were resting from their labors for
awhile, éach having an old musket for the purpose of
frightening away the birds from the fields, when
Julius, for somo cause or other, it might havo boon
Dinah, says to Pomp, " P-p-p-'omp, let's ta-ke a-a
shoot-oo-t at one anoder." "Well," says Pomp,
"Julius! I d-d-on't care if I do take'Hvo ot three
r-r-ounds wid you."
Whereupon, against the expostulation of the stut-
tering informant, who advises them strongly not to
touch "ddm guns." Julius and Pomp, having first
agreed to fire with blank catridges only, stepped out
on the batik; stood a few paceB apart; and blazed
away at each other. No damage done.- They loaded
up for a second flre—Julius treacherously slipped a
rusty. nail in his old musket. Simultaneously with
tbo report^ Julius exclaimed—"Oh! oh! P-p-omp!
You ni-ru-m mo, ef you aint ki-ki-kill me 1" It was
true, for tho ramrod striking Julius on the fleshy
part of the thigb, had gone through, but the resistance
met caused it tb bend, and there it remained like the
arc of a circle, quivering in the flesh of tho discomfited
Horneo. They placed him in the proper postnro for
rendering the necessary assistance, and ono or two of
the negroes pulled out tho ramrod, while the stutterer
hastened to town to tell tho news. Wo are happy to
say that Julius is recovering, while Pomp is displaying
his murderous skill upon the rice birds.— Wilmington
Herald, Sept. 26.
Perpetual motion-
ing about her baby.
-A woman's tongue wlieb talk-
, Bend the thought of the stormy soul
On its home, o.n its heaven, the loved maiden
And peace shaft cotiie at her eye's control,
Even so night's starry rest possesses
With its gentle spirit these tamed waters,
And bids tlie wave, with weedy tresses
Empower the ocean's pa-vément stilly
Where tho sea-girls lie, the mermaid daughters,
Whose eyes, not born to weep,
More paly-lidded sleep, .
Than in our fields the lilly f
And sighingTn ílielr rest
Moi'e swtet than is i(s breath ¡
And quiet as its death
Upon a lady's breast;
Heart high-beating, triumth-bewrcathed,
Search the record of loves gone by, . ¡
And borrow the blessings by them bequeathed
To deal from out of thy victory's sky.
Even so, throughout the midnight deep, .
Tho 6ilent moon doth seek the bosomc
Of those dear mermaid-girls asleep,
To feed its dying rays anew,
Like to the bee on earthly blossoms,
Upon their silvery whiteness,
And on the rainbow brightness
Of their eyelashes dew, "
And kisseth their limbs o'er:
Her lips where they do qualf
Strike starry tremors off,
As from the waves our oar.
— fviy HiiKiiv
Ñéter aright,'0 -T;ove, s'weét Lóvo í
But now it cannot pass away.
I sbe it wheresoe'er I go,
And.in my heart by night and day
By, night and day, O Love, sweet Love I
STANZA'S.—Br ItKismicu Heixe.
I would I could blend my sorrows
Into a single word;
It should fly on tbo willful breezes,
As wildly as a*bird.
Thoy should carry to thee, my loved ono,
That saddest, strangest word;
At every hoiir it would.meet thee,
In every placo bo heard.
And as soon as those eyes in .slumber,
Had dinnn'd their starry gioam,
■That word of my sorrow should follow
Down to thy deepest dream.
¡ upon
The lioss of a Wile.
No man but ono who has been called to mourn tho
3S of a dear and beloved companion can fully
appreciate the beauty and truthfulness of the follow-
ing article, which wo copy from an exchange:
In comparison with the loss of a wife, all other
béreavements aro trifling. Tho wife ! she who fills
a*
around JHI
her. cold clay I You stand beside her coffin and think
of the past. It. seems an amber-eolored pathway,
where the sun shone on beautiful flowers ! and the
stars hung beautiful Overhead. Fain would the soul
linger there—no thorns are rempmbqred save those
young hands may unwillingly havo planted.'
Her noble, .tender- heart lies open to your inmost
sight. You think: of her now as all gentleness, all
beauty, all ptirity. But she is dead! Tho dear hand
that has lam upon your bosbm, rests in tho still
darkness upon a pillow of clay. The hands that have
muii6tei;ed untiringly are folded, white and cold,
beneath the gloomy portals. The heart whoso every
beiit measured an eternity of love, lies, under your
feet. The flotvers she bent now above her in tears,
shaking dew from their petals, that tho verdure
around her may be kept green and beautiful.
or autumn—my kii
which—in the ttoi.
men and women having j
sat at tlieii' ease, none
pen on that eventful day,,
the company—a ' strong-, v]
lute eoin.^.aiiee . ^
good natured smile
saw admired .him.
lips, that, eve
.dif—
t ne
mati neo::;
fists like forgo
strength of body.
The brave smith
one of Mb neighhórá, Í kiio
tho door sprang open, and i
ing into the room, a greatest
with a ferocious, frightful aspeo
ing down, and, his eyes blood .,
tongue banging half way out of
tail dropped between his legs.
beast entered the room out of '
escape but by one door. Scarcu
neighbor, who was bath-koeper of
animal, when he bepamo deathly p_
exclaimed with* hóíéidí voice, " Q'é
dogisraadl" •••'
Then arose the outery! The room \.
and women, and the foaming beast sto
only entrances no one could leave witho
him. Ho snapped savagely right and left, i
could pass him without being bitten. Thil
lAnrnaintv. All — J
the horrible confusion; All sprang ¿p mñ'-Oj
from,the furious dog with agonizing conatonanoeg,
ho should deliver them from him? The smith
also stood among them, and as ho saw tho agony of
the people, it flashed across his mind —"
mmm
•«;?. '¡.f "
the
passing'
" do ono
his happy and contented neighbors
by a mad dog,.Jia formed a resolution, the
like of which is scarcely to be found in the*
of tliS' human race, for. high- ipipdedness ¿
nobleness. Certainly his browji clieek paleth a
but his oye sparked with divine fire, and an el?
resolution shone from the smooth brow of the sit
Back nil,' thundered he, with his, de$P,-.Strong
voice. 'Let no otle stir, for nobody can yafrqutoh.
the beast but I. One victim must fall in order to
save all, and I will be that victim ; I will hold tho
brute, and whilst I do so, make your escape." r Ite
smith bad scarcely spoken these words,-when the
ítfirforf fnmnpiln *U„' -L ' i ' -f* i i
V
Swearing.
The absurdity and utter folly of swearing is ad-
mirably set forth in the following anecdote of Beel-
zebub and his imps:
The latter went out in the morning, each to com
tnand bis set Of men—one tho murderers, another
the liars, and another tlie swearers, <fcc. At evening
they stopped at tbo mo.uth of a cave.—The question
aróse among them who" Commanded the meanest set
of men.—Tho subject was debated at length, but
without coming to a decision. Finally, his Satanic
Majesty was called upon to decide tbo matter in dis-
■piite. Whereupon,, lie said — "The murderer got
something for killirig, tlib'tliief for stealing, and the
liar for Tying; but the swearer was tho meanest of
all—-he.served without pay." They were bis Majesty's
best subjects; for vyhile they,were costless, their name
was legion, arid presented the largest division in his
(Satan's) employ.
IJOVE.
Where heart in silence glows with love,
Lay not a hand ungentle there ;
Quench not the spark of heavenly fire,
That were unhallowed deed—forbear.
If on tlie earth may aught be found
That unprofaned and pure can prove,
opeful heart, t ,
itid guileless love.
0, grudge it not that pprmg-tide dream,
So bright in rosy tintines shown:
Thou know'st not what a Paradise
Is lost when love's young dream has flown.
How many a strong heart breaks a* once,
When of its own dear love bereft:
And hearts that can endure, live on,
With naught but hato and darkness left.
It is the
Blest In its
And some that closed to hide their woi
Cry loud for pleasure in their need,
And grovel in the dust—alas !
To them sweet love is dead indeed.
Ah, fruitless comes repentance then,
The bitterest tears are all in vain
To make the withered rose bloom,
Or the dead heart be young again.
ounds,
CASTLES IN THE AIR.
O wealth, thou art of magic birth,
Commanding everything on earth,
Our wo and weal, our hope and mirth,
All bow before thee here!
And yet, anticipating thee,
We with thy choicest boon are free,
Since realized we Beldom see
Our castles in the air.
Give me those castles in the air.
foaming 1
an iron gra?p, and dashed him to tlie floor. •
Oh, what a furious struggle followed 1 Thadog bit
furiously upon every side m, a most frightful manner.
His long teeth tore the artns nn'd fhfghs of th« heroic
smith, but he would noMet him loose. Regardless
alike of the cxcesetfb. pitt, árid the horrible death
that.m9st.emu0, he .held down with an iron grasp
tho Bna|ipin-g, biting, howling brute nutll all nttf
escaped ! till all, wero rescued and in safety, IJf
then flung the half-strangled beast from him against
the wall, and dripping with blood and venomous foam,
he left the room, locking the door after him. 86me
persons shot the dog througl^the windows. But. O4
merciful God! what will become of tho brave, unfpfr
túnate smith?
Weeping and lamenting, the people surround him,
who had ,sayed their lives at the ex(SenBójóf his owk
Be quiet, my friends, do not weep for me," he said',
"one must die in, order to.save, the othe ~
¿XAS.
sIK
r GETHSEMANE. . ,
Lieutenant Lynch, Of the United States Exploring
Expedition to the River Jordán ¡tnd the Red- Sea, in
1.8Í8, visited the (garden of Gethsemane about the
month of May. He says: "Th,o clover upon the
ground was in bloom, and, altogether, the garjeii,:in
its aspects and associations, was better calcinated
than any place I know, to soothe a troubled spirit.
Eight venerable trees, isolated from the smaller and
less imposing ones which skirt the pass of the Aipuht.
of Olives, form a consecrated grove. High above, on
either hand,' towers a lofty moUntiiin, with a deop
yawning chasm of Jehosaphat between them. Crown-
ing one of tnem is a living city; on tho slope of the
other is the great Jewish Cemetery—City of Dead.
Each tree in this grove, cancered, and gnarled, and
furrowed by age, and beautiful and imnijgsive in its
decay, is a living monument of tho aflecttng scenes
th^t' have taken, ~pl«ee beneath and around it. Tha
olive perpetuates itself from the root of the dying
pftrent stem, the tree springs into existence. These
are accOunted'One thónsínd yéars old. Under these,
of the preceding growth, therefore, the Saviour was
wont to rest;. and one of tho present may mark the
very spot where he knelt, and played, and wept. No
caviling doubt can find entrance here. 'The geograph-
ical boundaries s,re, too distiuct anil clear for an in-
stant's hesitation. Here the Christian, forgetful
tüé pifesont, and absorbed in the past, can resign ini
self to sad, yet SOotliing' meditation. The few purple
and crimson flowors grow ing about the roots of the
tree, wi}J give him ample food for contemplation, for
they tell of the suflering and ensanguined death of
the Redeemer."
Where friends are true, where lovo appears
Deprived of all his doubts and fears;
Where smiles are found, unmixed with 'tearó
Like castles on the groiin'd.'
Perhaps yoü'H.Say Ü10 piles below
Are substance, while mine are but show,
(As clOiVíá'wheri tingjed with sunset glow
Assume strange hues and firms!)
Bilt are earth's castles firmly set.
Attd can you their foundations get
To safely bravtf lifVa storms f
If mine are shadpws—yours no moro;
, The only oddílfctweéh'
Arc—while that yours alternate., hours
Hayé of ltfé's sbrishioe and itsi Shlowel-s,
Mine have but sunny skies and flowers,
And fields foréver green. ir. r. W.
Mrs. Partington expresses great apprehension that
tho people of California wilt bleed to death, as every
paper she picks npannounces "another vein opened."
00 ' -i- .1 iU
A gentleman wishing access to a prison, was askec
what was his relationship to the person imprisoned 7
v * 7 . • * M I f UV V'SV, • — — * J' " -
He answered, "I have neither brothers nor sisters;
yet the prisoner's father is my father's son." What
relation was he 1
The AKticS of the Wmows.—"Do yoq think'
■more mitiquo becoming on a widow?" Said tho young
widow to Mrs. Partington, as she exhibited a mourn-
ing dress elaborately trimmed, and a bonnet of the
latest mode.; The old lady scanned her .attentively,
;;through hfir glasses before she auswe'red. ."More
antic'!" said sne at length,. and her finger was raised
up like aihote of-exclamation'. "1 should think less,
antic would bo more, becoming in a widow. , Widows
more antic must bo them spoko of by Paijl to Tjm-
othy, who wá.V wantóñ and will marry. ',$«11. well
let em, though' wliéro á woman has once marriefl jrUh.
.concealing'and wármihéár't"—looking straight at tlie
rigid profile Of the corporal on .tliíi. ivall—''ah(í one
t iat beats responsible to her. own, sho will never
r. the maritime State ugain," There was
glistening
glory,-the
itb"Took: out
, , .fe syho'5was sailing a ^hinglo'
boat ill ft*rain-water tub with a garden tpad as pas-
senger. The young; jtfdcmr withdrew to read what
Paul had said, evident^ disgusted \vith <*he dame's
misapprehension of her question, though there was a
lesson to her'in the blunder. '
Plain Tai.kinq.—-Jhey have a straight-forward
way of doing buejqjs^ (n Arkansas, that is perfectly
rfefíeshtógr Á minister out there, a few weeks ago,
undertook to come down on slavery. The next day
finger fell to >«r .ride, j,nd.„sbe tun
of tho window after Iki
- *— V-Sfu1 1, «• •**
one of thé "deacons" dropped him a line saving
" people,in his diggins went to church to "hear
ril abúi
that
the devil
Used and not slavery t and if he persisted
in 1 violating their taste any further,' oil that he had
to sa;
was that geese still grew feathers, and North
tar."
served by travelers, have recently !" - •
and found to consist of records of the
Of the escape, of the ísr*el|tes from
ponding as far as they go, 1 with the r
raer to. save, the others, , JJ
) oply performed ipy duty. '
mo with lovo, and now pr:
thank mo. for I havó <
I am dead, think of mo wi'th.
me that God will not let me snffor long or too (Uriel
I will take care that no further mischifef shall o
through mo, for I must certainly becqiijejriad.".,
went straight to his workshop and selected,"
chain; tha heaviest and flrrifesi fr&Whis WhO.o ,
He then,,with.his own hands, welded itUpontlft 8W
limbs, and around the anvil so firmly that Bo poneejoi
earth could break it. ,
after silently and so
'INow ybu are secure 1
live, bring mei food; íbe rest I leavé to'-fi _
his hands I commend my spirits" Nothing coaht'
save the brave smith—neither téMS, k '
and prayers.' ; Madness seized hiip, 'an<1
days he died—but, ti*-1"' *-
died' oriiy to t
life attl'" '
ory will
1, and Will be vftxe.
more beautiful and giprious life at the right
He died, but his. memory will live from-gano^
God.
ration
of time.
Search history thróUgli, áiiíj 'yOu Wil
tion more .'glorious and snblime thi
this simple-minded man, the smii
It is easy for noble minds to die li
MartiuS Curtius, tho high-spiritei
but to go tó 'the sacrifico WÍI
death, and, moreover, beihg obi.
so awful and wretcjied, during Ipi
days—that is to die nqt once, bv(
And such a death . was. that' of il
bach. Such a sacrifice the uni
in order to save his neighbors.
ever be sacred! j S
*>•
m,
xr:
Mi
%
-to
é
'-Í
BiEN.tAMfN FBAMÍCI,fíí .
ce/itury, since Benjamin 1
of tliO America* colon! ,
crown, Set out in h}s gig to ma'
of the principal rant
since. ho held the same ofl
Congress, when a smfiU f
department at Wash'ington,
of paper/ lasted a his i
These simple-ficts bring before \
an elaborate description,
office facilities, within a
postmaster were to undertake to j
at pre'sfeht-existing, it wtmld reqtfij
creased railroad-travel, at the rateii
while .if he were to undertak1 *"
wpuld require n hfe time for its j
of á small folio, with its three qtiii
post office accounts consume, cvtry
thousand of the largest sized ledgers,
than one hundred clcrke constantly e
cording traiisact)ops,With thirty thousand*
and othér tiersdris.' ,,
ÍA<í 1 ÍMIÍ& tftM •' ' -
R-3T Oite'milBt bieasy in
quietly, bnt what tniftt have been the
stranger who was sent up Staft* ili a
to sleep with- a backwoodsman, who
on to yqw.i
w-U,
bed's
least
frnrrow for yoU '
, ^ nib
considerin' how 1 dream. f«i see,*
trapper, and generally dream of shootingasid
« XMlTÍSt '
whittle Up the he*d--tioard with my kL
dreaming. But yon can come to bed
feel kinder peaceable to-nighf"
the mel-
ii«oA .-a#
mlrt *ik io iwiKW
0¡ OÍÍK*
kt
Census report for that
pt, corres-
record by Moses.
estimate was considered incorrect.
1 M
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The San Antonio Ledger. (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 41, Ed. 1 Saturday, November 8, 1856, newspaper, November 8, 1856; San Antonio, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth179432/m1/1/?q=Lamar+University: accessed June 1, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.