Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, April 12, 1855, Image 1
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samx. w memon, j^p 40"' An Independent Journal: For tlie Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricntural ?nd Commercial Interests of the South. j lewis m. gbist, pubiuher.
VQL- A- YOBKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, APBIL 12,1855. 3STO. 14.
I touch my loved harp, hut its strings no more 1
Are tuned to the gladness they breathed of yore; i
A white-robed spirit seems hovering near 1
To sadden the notes, and a heart-wrung tear
Is shed for my lost one then. '
I
j (
I think of my child when a harsh world's blame
Would sully the whiteness of woman's name'
When slander is blighting with pois'nous breath,
1 triumph to think that */te sleeps in death,
Nor weep for mv lost one then.
When a pale wife shrinks from a wine-flushed face, 1
And a tyrant reigns in a husband's place? (
And when cruel injustice with iron tread
Has trampled a spirit, and whitened a head.
Can I weep for my lost one then. '
I think of my child when the wind blows high,
And the lightnings flash from an angry sky.
When the waves of trouble come bounding on,
1 triumph to think that my darling's gone,
Nor weep for my lost one then.
Oli. I dream that she's one of an angel band,
And I'll meet her again in the spirit land?
That she is not lost, only gone before, |
And try to believe that 1 grieve no more.
But I weep for my lost one then. 1
Columbia, April 1, 1855. <
ra .r i ' i
>i Momrsnc ^iori). ?
n?' t
t
THE WIFE.
BY WASHINGTON IRVING.
The treasures of the deep are not so precious
As are the concealed comforts of a man
Locked up in woman's lore. I scent the air
Of blessings, when I come but near the house. |
What a delicious breath marriage seuds forth 1 j
The violet bed's not sweeter. j
Middleton.
I have often had occasion to remark the for
t"tude with which woman sustain the most:
overwhelming reverse of fortune. Those diswhieh
Hiwtk rj.-?wn dio pnirit of ? man.
ami prostrate him in the dust, seem to call
forth all the energies of the softer sex,
and give such intrepidity and elevation to their
character, that at times it approaches to sublimity.
Nothing can be more touching than
to behold a soft and tender female, who had
been all weakness and dependence, aud alive
to every trivial roughness, while treading the
prosperous paths of life, suddenly risiug in
mental force to be the comforter and support
of her husband under misfortune, and abiding,
with unshrinking firmness, the bitterest blasts 1
of adversity.
As the vine which has long twiued its grace- s
fnl fulljirro .ibnut, the oak. aud been lifted by it .
into sunshiue, will, when the hardy plant is 1
rifted by the thunderbolt, cling around it with 1
its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shatter- c
cd boughs ; so is it beautifully ordered by c
Providence, that woman, who is the mere dc- j
pendent and ornament of man in his happier
hours, should be his stay and solace when 3
smitten with sudden calamity; winding her- 3
self into the rugged recesses of his nature, ten- *
derly supporting the droping head, and bind- *
ing up the broken heart. I
I was once congratulating a friend, who had
around him a blooming family, knit together y
in the strongest affection. "I can wish you
no better lot," said he, with enthusiasm, than c
to have a wife and children. If you are pros- c
pcrous, they are to share your prosperity; if *
otherwise, there they aro to comfort you."?
And, indeed, I have observed that a married 1
man falling into misfortune is more apt to re- .
trive his situatiou in the world than a single 1
one ; partly because he is more stimulated to "
exertion by the necessities of the helpless and
beloved beings who depend upon him for sub- rr
Mstence; but chiefly because his spirits are ^
soothed aud relieved by domestic endearments,
and his self-respect kept alive by finding, that ,
though all abroad is darkness and huniilitation, c
..... i ? i . i. L. I
vet there is still a little world or wmcn ne is i
the monarch. Whereas a single man is apt to ; v
nin to waste and self neglect; to fancy him- f 11
nelf lonely and abandoned, and his heart to v
fall to ruin like some deserted mansion, for
want of an inhabitant. u
These observations call to mind a little do- ?='
mestic story, of which I was once a witness.? ^
My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a "
beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been
brought up in the midst of fashionable life.? 11
She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my
friend was ample; and he delighted in the an- *
ticipation of indulging her in every elcgaut
pursuit, and administering to those delicate
tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery
about the ox.-*-" 11 or life," said ho, "shall A
be like u fairy tale." c
The very difference in their characters produced
an harmonious combination : he was of
a romantic and somewhat serious cast; she was .
all life and gladness. 1 have often noticed
the mute rapture with which he would gaze
upon her in company, of which her sprightly
powers made her the delight; and how, iu the
midst of applause, her eye would still turn to |
him, as if there alone she sought favor and ac- j 1
ceptancc. When leaning on his arm, her slcn- 1
der form contrasted finely with his tall manly '
person. The fond confiding air with which s
she looked up to him seemed to call forth a 1
flush of triumphant pride and cherishing ten- s
dcrness, as if he doted on his lovely burden '
for its every helplessness. Never did a couple *
M't forward on the flowery path of early and '
well-suited marriage with a fairer prospect of' 4
felicity.
It was the misfortune of my friend, hovev- t
er, to have embarked his prosperty in large t
I
Oloitc |)ufto. |
I THINK OF MY CHILD. ,
liY MRS. M. W. STR.VTTO\.
I think of ray child when the sun shines bright,
And earth seems to revel in beauty ami light, '
When the singing of birds, and the humming of bees, '
Make a musical world of the dew-laden trees. I
1 weep for my lost one then. |
I mourn that she sleeps in the dark cold ground,
Shut out from the beauty so lavished around, 1
That wihi dowers bloom, and the long willows wave, j
In silence, and sadness, o'er Immogenc's grave.
I weep for my lo?t ono then.
I think of my child when the silvery moon
Sheds loveliness holier, sweeter, than noon.
And 1 think of her too in the still, dark night,
Tiic star-studded skv may not gladden htr sight. 1
1 f ... 1 ? it.AH
speculations; and he had not been married 1
many months, when, by a succession of sud- I
don disasters, it was swept from him, and he :
fouud himself reduced almost to penury. For i
i time he kept his situation to himself, and i
weut about with a haggard countenance, and a 5
breaking heart. His life was but a protracted ]
agony; and what rendered it more insupporta- s
ble was the necessity of keeping up a siuile in i
the presence of his wife; for he could not s
bring himself to overwhelm her with the news. 1
She saw, however, with the quick eyes of af- f
fcction, that all was not well with him. She i
marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, and
was not to bo deceived by his sickly and vapid t
ittemptsat cheerfulness. She tasked all her 1
sprightly powers and tender blanishmcnts to t
win him back to happiness; but she only drove : 1
the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he i
?aw cause to love her, the more torturing was t
the thought that he was soon to make her 1
wretched. A little while, thought he, and 11
the smile will vanish from that cheek?the j t
song will die away from those lips?the lustre i
of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow ; ! s
aud the happy heart which now beats lightly ; s
in that bosom, will be weighed down like , i
mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. (
At length he came to 111c one day, and re- s
lated his whole situation in a tone of the deep- 1
est despair. When I heard him thro' I in- j
quired, "Does your wife know all this?" At i
the question he burst into an agony of tears. 1
'For Clod's sake !" cried he, "if you have any 1
pity on me, don't mention my wife; it is the r
thought of her that drives me almost to mad- fl
aess!"
"And why not ?" said I. "She must know ?i
a sooner or later; you cannot keep it long from i
tier, and the intelligence may break upon her
in a more startling mauner, than if imparted *
by yourself; for the accents of those we love
soften the harshest tidings. Besides, you are 1
lepriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy;
and not merely that, but also eudan- p
*ering the only bond that can keep hearts to- j t
rether?an unreserved community of thought t
ind feeling. She will soon perceive that some- a
king is secretly preying upon your mind ; and
rue love will not brook reserve ; it feels unlervalued
and outraged, when even the sor- "
ows of those it loves arc concealed from it." h
"Oh, but, my friend ! to think what a blow h
am to irive to all her future nrosnects-?how
am to strike her very soul to the earth, by j
elliug her that her husband is a becger! that i V
he is to forego all the elegancies of life?all ri
he pleasures of society?to shrink with nie in- ol
) indigence and obscurity ! To tell her that
have dragged her down from the sphere in tl
hich she might have continued to move in j t*j
jnstant brightness?the light oi' every eye? ]
le admiration of every heart! How can she j <1
ear poverty ? she has been brought up in all ] ai
ic refinements of opulence. How can she j h
ear neglect? she has been the idol of society, j <1
)h ! it will break her heart?it will break her ! e'
eart!?" j <1
I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it a
iave its flow; for sorrow relieves itself by j
rords. When his paroxysm had subsided, j F'
nd he had relapsed into moody silence, I re- i 0
umed the subject gently, and urged him to j
>reak his situation at once to his wife. He j r
hook his head mournfully, but positively.
' But how are you to keep it from her ? It | }'
s necessary she should know it, that you may 11
ake the steps proper to the alteration of your a
lircumstances. You must change your style v
>f living nay," observing a pang to 1(
>ass across his countenance, don't let that af- h
lict you. I am sure you have never placed H
rour happiuoss in outward show?you have j 0
ret friends, warm friends, who will not think u
he worse of you for being less splendidly lodg- S'
id: .and surely it does not require a palace to I1
>e happy with Mary "
"I could be happy with her," cried he, eon- I
rulsively, "in a hovel!?I could go down with 11
ler into poverty and the dust!?I could?I h
:ould?God bless her!?God bless her!" criid
he, bursting into a transport of grief and s
enderness. s
"Believe me, my friend," said I, stepping ' >
ip, and grasping him warmly by the hand, v
she can be the same with you. Ay more : r,
t will be a source of pride and triumph to her il
?it will call forth all the latent energies and c
ervent sympathies of her nature; for she will w
ejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. c
There is in every true woman's heart a spark b
>f heavenly lire, which lies dormant in the
>road daylight of prosperity; but which kin- y
tics up, and beams and blazes iu that dark ^
lour of adversity. No man knows what the a
rife of his bosom is?no man knows what a b
ainistering angel she is?until he has gone a
rith her through the firery trials of this world." 1'
There was something iu the earnestness of tl
ly manner, and the figurative style of my lan- a
uage, that caught the excited imagination of C
jcslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with; a
nd following up the impression I had made, s.
finished my persuading him to go home and
mburden his sad heart to his wife. b
T timet nnnfnco nntiritlicfoniliiirr n 11 T bad I -
wuivogj uyvnivuusu ??? ? ? ? ?
aid, I felt some littles^olicitude for the result. s
rVho can calculate on the fortitude of one h
vhose whole life has been around of pleasures? v
Ier gay spirits might revolt at the dark down- h
vard path of low humility suddenly pointed e
>ut before her, and might cling to the sunny (1
egions in which they had hitherto reveled,
besides, ruin in fashionable life is acoompani- (
id by so many galling mortifications, in which r
n other ranks it is a stranger. In short, I
0
:ould not meet Leslie the next morning with- j
mt trepidation. lie had made the disclosure. ^
"And how did she bear it ?" j
"Like an angel! It seemed to be rather a c
elief to her mind, for she threw her arms
ound my neck, and asked if this was all that n
ia J lately made me unhappy. But poor girl," u
tdded he, "she cannot realize the change we e
mist undergo. She feels as yet no privation ;
;hc suffers no loss of aocustoiuod conveniences
ior elegancies. When wc come practically y
o experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, I
ts petty humiliations?then will be the real
rials." tl
"But," said I, "now that you have got over I
he severest task, that of breaking it to her r<
ho sooner you let the world into the secret the ?
better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but
then it is a single misery, aud 30011 over: whcrc13
you otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every
hour in the day. It is not poverty so much
is pretence, that harrasses a mined man?the
struggle between a proud mind and an empty
purse? the keeping up a hollow show that must
soon come to an end. Have the courage to
ippear poor, and you disarm poverty of its
sharpest sting." On this point I found Lcsie
prepared. He had no false pride himself,
uid as to his wife, she was only anxious tocon*orm
to their altered fortunes.
Some days afterwards he called upon 111c in
lie evening. lie had disposed of his dwelling
louse, and taken a small cottage iu the coun;ry,
a few miles from town. He had been
Hi.sied all day iu sending out furniture. The
icw establishment required few articles, and
hose of the simplest kind. All the splendid
furniture of his late residence hud been sold,
.'scepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was
oo closely associated with the idea of herself;
t belong to the little story of their loves; for
;omc of the sweetest moments of their court?hip
were those when he had leaned over that
nstrument, aud listened to the melting tones
)f her voice. I could not but smile at this instance
of romantic gallantry iu a doting husjand.
He was going out to the cottage, where his
vifc had been all day superintending its ar angements.
My feelings had become strongy
interested in the progress of this family sto y,
and, as it was a fine evening, I offered to
iccumpany him.
lie was wearied with the fatigues of the day,
md, as he walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy
ousting.
"Poor Mary!'' at length broke with a hea y
sigh from his lips.
< A ..J ?I...* i ;?? t. i
, .1UU lV lull Ul 11 IT I . ilSJlUU 1 . 1IU9 ail^iuiuu
mppcned to her?"
' What," said he, darting an impatient
dance, ''is it nothing to be reduced to this palry
situation?to be caged in a miserable cotage?to
be obliged to toil almost iu the mcni1
concerns of her wretched habitation ?"
"Has she then repined at the change?"
"Repined 1 she has been nothing but sweetess
and good humor. Indeed, she seems in
etter spirits than I have ever known her; she
as been to inc all love, and tenderness, and
omfort!"
"Admirable girl!" exclaimed I. "Youcall I
ourself poor, my friend ; you never were so |
eh?you never knew the boundless treasures :
f excellence you posses in that woman."
"Oh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at
ic cottage were over, I could then be comfbr- j
ible. Rut this is her firit day of real ox peri
ace; she has been introduced into a humble j
welling?she has been employed all day in '
rranging its miserable equipments?she has,
>rthe first time, looked round heron a home :
estitutc of everything elegant,?almost of;
ecrythiug convenient; and may be sitting 1
own, exhausted and spiritless, broodiug over j
prospect of future poverty."
There was a degree of probability in this j
icture that I could not gainsay, so we walked
n in silence.
After turning from the main road up a nar- J
ow lane, so thickly shaded with forest trees a>
o give it a complete air of seclusion, we came j
n sight of the cottage. It was humble enough ;
a its appearance for the most pastoral poet; j
Dd yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild j
ine had overrun one end with a profusion of '
idiage; a few trees threw their branches grace- j
ally over it; and I observed several pots of j
owers tastefully disposed about the door, and !
n the grassplot in front. A small wicket gate j
pened upon a footpath that wound through !
ouic shrubbery to the door. Just as we ap- \
roached, we heard the sound of music?Les- j
ic grasped my arm; wc paused and listened. '
t was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the
aost touching simplicity, a little air of which
icr husband was peculiarly fond.
I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He
te^ ocd forward to hear more distinctly. Ilis
tep made a noise on the gravel walk. A bright
eautiful face glanced out at the window and
anished?a light footstep was heard?and May
came tripping forth to meet us : she was in
pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowrs
were twisted iu herfine hair; a fresh bloom
rason her check; her whole countenance beamd
with smiles?I had never seen her look so
jvcly.
"My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad j
ou arc come ! I have been watching and
ratchiug for you; and running down the lane,
nd looking out for you. I have set out a tale
under a beautiful tree behind the cottage ;
nd I've been gathering some of the most decious
strawberries, fori know you are fond of
hem?and we have such excellent cream?
nd everything is so sweet and still here?
)h!" said she, putting her arm within his,
nd looking up brightly in his face, "Oh, we
hall be so happy !"
Poor Leslie was overcome. lie caught her
j his bosom?he folded his arms round her
-he kissed her again and again?he could not
peak, but the tears gushed into his eyes : and
,c has often assured me, that though the
rorld has gone prosperously with him, and
is life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet nevr
has he experienced a moment of more exuisite
felicity.
An Old Man's Secret.?Au Italian Bishp
struggled through great difficulties without
epining, and met with much opposition withut
even betraying the least impatience. An
itimate friend of his, who highly admired
tiose virtues which he thought impossible to
nitate, one day asked the Bishop if he could
ommunicatc his secret of being always easy?
" Yes;" replied the old man, " I can touch
ly secret with great facility ; it consists of
othing more than making a right use of my
yes."
Ills friend besrered him to explain himself.
" Most willingly," returned the Bishop; in
whatever state I am, I first of all look up to
leaven, and remember that my principal buiness
is to get there. I then look down on
he earlh, and call to mind how small a space
shall occupy in it when I come to be intcred;
I then look abroad on the world and obgrve
what multitudes there are in all respects
! more unhappy than royselj Thus I learn
j where true happiness is pla$d, where all our
! cares must end, and how vey little reason I
i have to repine or complain.
I I
Pisccllitncmis iicabing.
THE BIRTH-PLACE O? CALHOUN.
Not long ago, suddenly fhr</wing off the
i restraint and dull monotony tf Jitorship, and
I accompanied by a friend of nre social vein we |
took au interesting jaunt inU the country.? ,
The day was inspiringly delig^ul; its bland
sun light glanced and sparw/ed from every ;
i iU. I.!./].. .,V.....f
uujrui i u.u iiiiri iiiu view, ui;* tuv uuuo, t.iuui
ed for the moment into forgitfulnessof winter,
warbled with timid softneft the preludes of ,
their Spring carols. It was i day whose sounds
and genial warmth, and sw-pencilliugs, summou
to the memory those vague, undefined,
j yet joyous recollections, flat all have felt, but
none yet fully described?a fitting day to visit
the birth-place of Calhoun, and to muse amid j
the scenes consecrated ay the rustic boyhood
j of the illustrious statesman. This section of
j Abbeville District has ')cen styled, and ccr- ]
! tainly not unjustly, its ^garden spotthe eye j
! is greeted 011 every hand by fields in the highest
state of cultivation, and their is something
in the appearance of the soil, and the ru sunI
/</' of the view, that reminds one of the rich
prairie lands of the North-west. A fertile
I loam with a due admixture of vegetable mat- .
tor, constitutes the soil in its virgin state, designating
it as a section peculiarly adapted to
the cultivation of small grain, but in many (
plantations that came in sight, had evidently l j
; been strained and exhausted in the produe- :
tion of the great Southern staple, and^ve fear,
I from the preparations going on, and the very
) few fields of grain that relieved the view, that ,
| far more cotton will wave there next harvest i (
j than golden grain, even now so much needed I,
| everywhere.
j The old homestead in which Mr. Calhoun ' ]
i first saw the light stands on the eastern edge [
| of the beautiful tract of country we have just | (
I partially described, and which is known as the j (
I Calhoun settlement. The plantation passed a | (
j few years ago from the hands of a young mom- ;
her of the family (why was that? > to Mr. John '.
White, an intelligent mefchant of this village, j j
and is now occupied by his overseer as a negro '
quarter; other changes, too, and more impres- [ (
sive, have come over this venerable relic of (
the past.
The house, an object of in*crest for its anti- (
quated architecture alone, w s e* idently once, j
for its day. an clcgnnt in: itV-"; bui'* i? 'he '
irregular, no-style order of the age, having a 11
spacious central hall, heated by one of those ' (
huge chimneys, now obsolete, whose ample J
firesides were svtnbolical of the patriarchal ho-.
1 1
pitality of the olden time. It is situated on '
the brow of a hill, that dccliees gently to the !
eastern bank of a beautiful stream that still j
bears the family uame; for like most of the re- : (
sidences of the pioneers, the site was chosen j ,
more for its convenience to water than for any |
other advantage; and we arc not sure that this j
I utilitarial impulse has lessened seriously the j
j intrinsic beauty of the situation. A winding j j
I creek, dashing with an audible munuer over j (
j its peblcd bod, and bills that stud its banks j.
i with sufficient boldness to relieve the monoto- (
[ my of a wide expanse of flat woods stretching ]
for miles away from the very verge of the wes- ,
tern bank, more than compensate for the ab- i (
sence of qualities that a too fastidious taste ! (
would have preferred.
To our eye, apart from all historic interest, ],
there is a charm in the bold, rugged landscape ! (
uncouth style, and moss grown t;tubers of these I
venerable homesteads of the pioneers. We j (
love to muse in the humid shades of their j
monumental oaks, listening to the wind I j
as they whistle through shattered gables i (
strange requiems to the dead and departed |
customs of other days. The old Ilcd House,
however on the border of the Flat Woods, is (
more indebted for the interest it exacts to its
history than its natural features. Except a
small grove of oaks, and decayed Prides of j
China, immediately around it, and which seem ^
struggling to impart a scanty shade to the fa- *
ding relies beneath them, the surrounding ]
country is a continuous plantation, destitute
of forest, and iu many places the worse for ^
having long since yielded to the cotton mills
of Manchester and Lowell the best portion of (
its primitive fertility. There is nothing of (
the wild or sublime in scenery to be found
here, that could have imparted, according to <
the poets, heroic grandeur to a lofty genius;
? Ai?nT*4kn1neo i n La nilnai .1 a)L, . Via aa n
iivvuiiiuuw^ iu luu Client UU?ic ui tlie mean- ^
tiering creek, and the rich verdure of their (
evergreen foilage, contemplation found a genial
retreat, and doubtless there the inquisitive ,
mind of the future statesmau imbibed much .
of that deep, earnest thoughtfulness that characterized
him through life.
C I
Sonic hundred yards east of the house, in
the open field, but nearly concealed by the (
spreading branches of a large cedar and tall j
shrubbery, is the old family cemetery. It
contains but a single monument of any architectural
iutcrcst, and that stands upon the
grave of Mr. Calhoun's father, mother, and \
sister Catharine, Mrs. Dr. Waddel. He had (
it carved in Washington, and placed in its <
present site a tew years before his death.?
Each of its four sides has an inscription; they (
read as follows: J
"Patrick Calhoun, the father of John Cald.- (
well Calhoun. Born in the country of Done- 1
gal, Ireland, Juue 11, 1727, ajul died Janua- 1
ry 15, 179G, in the 69th year." *
"Martha Caldwell, the wife of Patric Cal- J
licun, and the mother of Catharine, William, ?
James, John Caldwell, and Patriok Calhoun. f
Born on cub crock, Charlotte county, Virginia, 1
1750?died May, 1802, aged 52 years."
"Catharine, the daughter of Patrick and 1
Marthy Calhoun, and the first wife of the Rev. <
Dr. Waddel, died in March, 1790, in the 21st i
year of her age, without issue." 1
Erected by John C. Calhouu, the surviving 1
member of the family, 1844." <
The graves of William and James, whose f
names were meutioned above, are also here, 1
with becoming memorials. The former was '
the father of the Hon. Mrs. Armisted Burt, a
and Mrs. DegrafTeurcid, of Abbeville; the lat- n
tor. of our energetic fellow citizen Mr. J. A. tj
Calhoun, and the Hon. James Calhoun, of ic
Alabama.?Abbeville Banner. tl
THE NEW CZAR. ci
The new Emperor of Russia, Alexander the (J
Second, was born April 2!), 1818, and became
Czar of Russia, March 2, 1855, at the tl
age of thirty-seven.
In his book on Russia, M. deCustinc has j(
Ltiven a sketch of Alexander, as he appeared tl
in 1881); and though the years that have siuee v
rolled by have modified some liueaments of the tl
picture, time ean not have changed the main sj
features: w
Flms, June 5,1839. d<
Yesterday I began my journey into Russia, tl
The hereditary Grand Duke has arrived at S
blnis, proceeded oy ten or twelve carriages, A\
mil followed by a numerous court. ei
I fouud myself at the side of the Grand fi,
Duke, among the curious crowd, as he aligh- s(
ted from his carriage. Before enteriug the
house he stood for a long time at the door of tl
the baths in conversation with a Russian lady, IJ
>0 that I had time to examine him. He looks hi
his exact age, which is twenty, llis person ?
is tall, but a little too stout for so young a man.
His features would be tine, were it not for a
pufiiuess that impairs their physiognomy.?
His face if> round, but rather Grecian than u
Russian, and suggests what the Kiuperor Al- 01
L'xander must have been at the same agf^ a'
without, however in any way recalling the li
Kalmuck type. tl
The look has many phases to pass through bi
ere it will assume its definite character. The C1
habitual humor it now denotes is mild and be- 1"
nevo'.ent. Between the ready smiles of the
eves and the constant contraction of the mouth, H
dir>ri? i< liiiwnvcr n .livrronnnr-v hnsnPflks a
*? w " --1 J ,? ?
very i nude rate frankness, aud perhaps some in- *l
terual grief. The chagrin of youth, the age
when happiness is man's natural due, is a se- V1
jret always the better kept, that it is a mystcry
inexplicable even to the sufferer. The t(J
l'rinee's expression is one of kindness; his n;
<tep is light and gracefully noble?truly that K'
if a prince. I lis air is modest, without timidi- 111
ty, which is a great point for all about him,
since the embarrassment of the great is really *1
in annoyance to the rest of the world. If they
fancy themselves demigods, they arc iucommo- e'
led by the opinion they have of themselves, ^
ind which they despair of making others par- 11
:ake. * ol
This silly disquietude never afflicts the ! 11
Grand Duke. Ilis whole bearing wears the ! 01
impress of perfect good breeding- If he should I
i\ er reign he will niaKe himself obeyed, not j ^
by terror, hut by the attraction of his inher- P
^nt grace, unless the necessities that cling to a u
Russian Emperors's destiny should alter his n
haracter as well as his position. P
Junk G, 1839. ri
T have again seen the hereditary Graud a'
Duke, and have had a long and close examina- SI
tion of him. He was not dressed in uniform, ^
which gives him a.stiff and swollen look. The ^
nrdinary costume suits him much better. His n
manner is agreeable, his gait noble, and without
the stiffness of the soldier; and the pccu-!
liar grace that distinguishes him recalls the i
<in<rular charm ' belonging to the Selave race, si
\ '
There is not the vivacious passion of warm hi
countries, nor the impcrturablc coldness of the tl:
north, but a mixture of southern simplicity al
:md adaptability with Scandinavian molan- ps
choly. The Sclaves are white Arabs. The 01
Grand Duke is more than half German; but cs
these are Germans Sclaves in Mecklenburg as fo
well as in some parts of llolstciu and Prus- P1
sia. b,
Notwithstannding his youth, the Prince's ,u
face is not so agreeable as his figure. Ilis com- m
plcxion has lost its freshness, it is visible that j k
be is a sufferer. The eyelid drops over the tlJ
Duter corner of the eyes, with a melancholy, tr
betraying already the cares of a more advan- di
ccd age. His pleasing mouth is not without al
>weetncsf>, and his Greecian profile recalls the ei
medales of the antique, or the potraits of the C(
Km press Catherine; but beneath that air of d(
kindness almost always conferred by beauty,
youth and German blood, it is impossible not a?
lo recognize a force of dissimulation that ter- ^
rifics one in so young a man. This trait is 111
ioubtlcss the seal of destiny, and makes mc P
believe that the Prince is fated to ascend the b
throne. His voice has a melodious tone, a d<
thing rare in his family, and a gift he has re- >'1
jeived from his mother. w
He stands out among the youug men of his
suite without anything to stamp the distance
}bservable between them, unless it be the perfect
grace of his whole person. Grace always 111
Jcnotes an amiable turn of mind; so much of y"
:he physiognomy, and the attitude of the man.
The one under examination is at once imposlug
and ageeable. llussian travellers had
spoken to me of his beauty as a phenomenon; P1
ind it would have struck me more but for this ai
jxaggcration. Such as he is, the Grand Duke w!
)f Piussia still seemed to me to bo one of the
inest models of a princo that I had ever met. 1
CONGRESSIONAL MORALITY. dt
We were infinitely amused three or four or
vecks ago by a practical joke in Washington di
2ity upon a number of the nice men of Con- ic
rrcss. It was too good to be left unpublished, th
A couple of merry fellows, one of them a ar
listinguishcd member of Congress from a Si
southern State, and the other a distinguished pi
>x-cditor from Kentucky, concocted a letter w
jurporting to be addrsssed by a young lady to fo
i very fine looking gentlemen. It was got up cc
n first-rate style. The pretended young lady tb
ict forth therein that she had soveral times of
seen the gentleman she was addressing, that
ihe was captivated by his fine face and manly a
orm, that her heart was deeply touched by all H
she saw and heard of him, that she must make h(
lis acquaintance before his departure from the pr
iity, that she hoped and prayed he would for- bi
rive her seeming bolducss as it was the first wl
inprudent act of her life, that she had always fo
noved and was still moving in the highest gr
:ircle of the Capital, that she would be upon pr
l certain square of a certain street at precisely ag
12 o'clock on the following day in a dress cv
vhich she described with great particularity, to
q<1 that she hoped and trusted he would
icet her and thus afford her an opportunij
of a brief personal intercourse with the 1
lol of her heart. The two wags had between
lirty and forty copies of this letter written by 1
female friend of theirs, and they sent these 1
spies to between thirty and forty members of 1
ongresB, selecting those of course who were <
nown to entertain a very exalted opinion of
ieir own personal fascinations.
Every thiDg being thus arranged, the two 1
>kers called upon us and another young gen- '
emen, explained what they had done, and in- <
ited us to get into their carriage, ride with
lcm to the point of assignation, and see the I
ghts. "VVe uuhesitatiugly consented, and <
c saw sights sure enough. Riding upon the <
csignatcd square, we beheld the whole of the 1
lirty or forty members, Northern nieu and I
outhern men, Whigs, Democrats, and Know- 1
othings, walking to and fro, all gazing earn- t
stly in every direction and at every female t
*ure to discover the object of their anxious j
:arch. ]
We concluded, that if a few more copies of 1
le letter had becu sent to members of the <
[ouse of Representatives, the House would 1
avc had to adjourn for the want of a quorum. <
-Louisville Journal. j
HE HAS ENEMIES. <
"We never here the remark made of a man t
That lie has a great many enemies," with- t
at feeling desirous of his acquaintance. We i
'C sure to find him, in many respects, a ster- 1
ng character. A man who plods along, in {
ic same track of his forefathers?who never 1
roke away from the traces of expediency and \
rorand who thinks and writes with the same j
;u and from the same model, that his grand- c
ither used seldom if ever gains an enemy.? j
ut he who thinks for himself is something of
genius and has talents of a high order, is 3
ire to lind enemies at every corner. A truthil
paragraph that he has written?darling 1
ices that he has denounced?or a sense even
his superiority over themselves induce many *
i say severe things of him and bring his good <
lme into contempt. When lived the ener- {
2tic, active, talented man who had no enc- i
lies ? Even perfection itself, in the life of hrist,
was ridiculed, spokeu against, abused, 1
>it upon, cast away! <
A man who has enemies need not relax his
[forts, or presume that he is the worst person 1
ho ever lived. If he is upright in his deallgs,
kind and benevolent in his disposition,
bliging and accommodating to all classes, he
mst have the approbation of a good conscince
and his sleep will be refreshing.
We would not give a farthing for the man
ho has no chemii'S?who panders to the deraved
appetites of the bad and pretends to
ncommon sanctity among the religious?who
ever denounces sin for fear of a frown, or cxrcss
himself as a friend to virtue, lest he be
dieuled. No?give us the faithful individul
who sustains the right at fearful odds and
leaks out boldly, when vice comes in like a
Dod Such a man is honored and armrnved I
-rl ?
y Heaven, and we always extend to him the 1
ght hand of fellowship. '
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. !
The printers of Manchester, New Ilamp- J
lire, gave a festival on the anniversary of the (
irth-day of Benjamin Franklin, and among
le letters received, was one from the Honor)lc
Edward Everett, in which the following 1
issage occurs :?"The name of Franklin is 1
ic of the brightest in our history, and his (
,-entlul life is full of interest and instruction 1
r men of all pursuits. He was a first rate
rintcr, an industrious and methodical man of ^
asiness, an active citizen, always devising :
ensures for the public good, a self-taught j
an, but a friend of education, a master of the 1
nglish language, a sagacious observer of na- I
ire, a bold scientific theorist, as a patriot, in- t
epid though cautious, and faithful in the *
ischarge of tnc highest trusts at home aud c
jroad. He first conceived the ideaofafed al
uuion as early as 1734; he was one of the (
mimittee for drafting the Declrration of In- 1
ipeudence in 1770; he was one of the ncgo- e
ators of the treaty of Peace with Great Brit- s
tin in 1783; and an iufluential member of ^
ic Convention which framed the Constitution 1
i 1787. Boston has the honor of his birth : <
hiladelphia holds his ashes; but the whole
nion enjoys the benefit of his lessons of wis- s
mi and patriotism. Ilis fame is co-cxten
ve with the civilized world, aud his memory (
ill live forever." <
STORY OF A^BRAVE MAN.
The telegraph briefly announces this mor- i
ing, the suicide at Jackson, Miss, of Col. ?
lexander K. McClung. Our manuscript \
jspatch read, "Col. McClung, the Duelist;" s
it he was otherwise distinguished, in a very
'cntful life in the Southwest than for his
owess under the bloody "code of Honor,"
id deserves, in death, to be remembered, as 1
ell for the good which he did, as for the evil 1
hieh the telegraphic record would cause to c
vc after him. lie was a brave man for his c
iuntry in war, as well as a desperate one in
ifence of his own perhaps too sensitive hon- j.
', in peace. He was prompt, gallant, and f
stinguished in the Volunteer Service in Mcx- E
o, in 1847, under General Taylor. He was g
tc first to scale the Black Fort at Monterey, f
id for his intrepidity in placing the Stars and t
.ripes oh its captured walls, was marked and s
erced by the enemy with wounds under ^
hich he suffered the most agonizing pains y
r five or six months, and chafed that he s
iuld not be rid of them to bear his part on *
o field of Buena Vista, within a few miles y
' which he was invalided. g
The personal story of Col. McClung, though e
sanguinary one, is not without its reliefs.? ^
c was called a desperate duelist; not that i
) was by nature blood-thirsty, or loved the c
actice for the poor renown it broi gbt him, f
it because when he did fight in this way, c
hich was not often, he made no compomises ^
r the chances of life; and exacted as well as t
anted, the extreme terms of the code, as j
acticed in Mississippi fifteen or twenty years s
;o; when extravagance and desperation in
cry department of life, appeared for a season
run riot. His first meeting was in 18S3 or | v
1834, with a man by the name of Allen.?
The weapons, pistols, to be fired at ten pace^,
or while advancing nearer to each other, and
then the use of the bowie-knife. Allen fell.
The second meeting was five years afterwards,
or more, with young Mennifee, at Vicksburg,
the brother of Richard H, Mennifee, member
of Congress from Kentucky in 1838-89. The
weapon, the rifle; both parties excellent shots,
but Mennifee fell at the second fire. There
may have been other altercations in which he
was engaged, but they are not now remember
eu.
These two fatal transactions gave a notoriety
to the man which he was far from being proud
_>f, and the public Tecollection of which he endeavored
to efface, in his ripest years, by political
and military service, first as th* head of
the Whig press in Mississippi in the Presidential
campaign of 1840; then as Marshal oi
the United States for the Northern District of
the State, and afterwards as a volunteer to
Mexico, the Lieutencnt Colonel of his regiment.
After the war ho was the political
friend of General Taylor, not to the exclusion
)f Mr. Clay, of whose neighborhood in Ken- ,
tucky McClung was a native, but in default
)f his nomination at Philadelphia. Under his
Administration he was appointed to a diplomatic
station as Charge d' Affairs to Bolivia,
South America, the Capital of which, far in
;he interior of the country, he no doubt had
.00 much difficulty to find to be impressed by
ts greatness or captivated by its social or po!.'
.1 ..i .! TT a. J i. TT-ii-.l
mcai auracuous. xie returned to toe tmreu
states after a two years residence near the* Boivian
Government, in the year 1851, since
vhcn we had heard little of him unt\l th<
jresent dreadful announcement of death by hi*
>ic/i hvnd. His age must have been about 45
rears.?New York Times.
[MPORTANT FROM WASHINGTON.
We copy the following from the New York
herald of Saturday:
Washington, March 30,1855.?The great
iffair just now in this city is the El Dorado
mtrage. There is no little excitement here,
growing out of that insult, which, by the way,
las been increased by that to Thompson, the
L\merican Consul at Sagua la Grande. There
f?as another Cabinet council yesterday, at which
)ur relations with Cuba were fully discussed.
The members of the Cabinet in favor of imrne-*
diate and energetic steps against Cuba were :
The President, Secretary Davis, Secretary
Dobbin, Secretary Guthrie, Secretary Campbell,
Secretary McClelland.
Against any decided movement for the present
were :
Secretary Marcy, Attorney General Cushing.
Secretary Davis was in favor of the most decided
action to compel an immediate apology
from the Captain General. I am told that
Davis is very violent, and urges the strongest
measurus for reparation.
It is stated that Marcy in the Cabinet meetings
opposes the views of the majority, by bringing
forward what he deems precedents for thr*
rriiirsp nf f.hi? Snanloli noml J? ? -
Uj/_u<i)u umui uujvxi lu UIIUJ^ illll)
the El Dorado, and the apologetical article in
the National Intelligencer is imputed to his
suggestion. Cushing is playing a game solus.
He is apparently with Marcy, to gain a little
jonservative influence.
Mr. Soule left town this morning for New
Fork. He will not publish the Perry correspondence.
He is willing that it should be
;iven to the public, but contends that it should
imanatc from the State Department, and not
xom him.
Orders have been sent to Pensacola, Norfolk
Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, to have
ill available vessels and material prepared, for
mmediatc service, and instructions have been
ssued to all naval officers at those points to
lold themselves in readiness for sea. It is
hought that a portion of the Mediterranean
leet, as well as the the Brazil squadron, will be
:alled home for the emergency.
Washington, March 30?10 P. M.?An>ther
consultation with his Cabinet has deternined
the President to draw from the differint
stations every vessel which can possibly bo
ipared, and order them forthwith to join the
Uulf squadron. A large portion of the late
lavy appropriations will be expended in proviling
steamers, ostensibly to transport provisions,
but really to transport men and military
stores' to our southern coast. A decided step
s to be taken, and the consequences left to take
;are of themselves. War is the only theme
liscussed on the streets to-day, and the deeiiion
of the President is a subject of eulogy.
An extra session of Congress is regarded arapracticable,
as only three of the Southern
states could be represented. President Pierce
rill, adopt Mr. Polk's plan, and consider a
tate of war existing.
MISS BRENNAN.
Taul Julicn recently gave a grand concert
n New York for the benefit of the poor.?
< The Musical World" notices it, and among
it 1 * ' ' " **
itner ceieDnties, has the tollowins: notice of
/ O
ur Columbia songster:
" Among those whose artistic presence h:.?
;laddened many friends in this city the par:
cw weeks has been that of Miss Ellen Branlan,
the Sou'hcrn sky-lark, who sings and
cars so charmingly, and whose very successill
concerts at the south w^ have noticed from
ime to time. Miss Brennan has been for
omc time under the interrupted, yet still coninued,
tuition of the accomplished and high>rcd
Sig. Badiulli?his only pupil. It is
ignificant of her success, both present and
trospcctive, that Sig. Babiali thus interests
limsclf for our fair young countrywoman.?
>he could not have a more careful, accomplishd
and expcrinced teacher. Sig. Badiali,
aken all in all, is as fine a singer, and ccrainly
as great a public favorite, as we have
ver had in this country. Iiis spirited perorinancc
at the late charity concert in the Aa
demy, was perhaps the redeeming feature of
hat otherwise vgry mediocre musical event?
hough rich in pecuniary success. Miss Ellen
Ireuuan sails in the Spring for Italy where
he intends to perfect herself in her art."
The progress of the world is continually con*
erting virtues into vice.