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THE CAMDEN JOURNAL
VOLUME 3. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, MAY II, 1852. NUMBER 38.
???
THE CAMDEN JOURNAL. r
but
unt
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?????< n root
TH n s?ia.?ur DiKu.t. ...
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, dis?j
There is a rapture on the lonely shore, neai
There is society, where none intrudes, ^a*
+ By the deep sea, and music in its roar: -vou
I love not man the less, but nature more, j ,ltai
From these our interviews, in which I steal, I
From all I may be, or have been before, J ^ ?
"To jingle with the univeree, and feel j
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.; twee
Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue Ocean?roll ! sma'
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
IVlan matks 4he earth with ruin?his control *
*. SC1Z11
Stops with the shore;?upon the watery plain ?n
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain jj1<?
A shadow of man's ravage, save his owih ' h'ltie
When for a moment, like a drop of rain, J diffei
t He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, j as m
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffin'd and un- [ dvrs
known. plexi
drcai
His steps are hot upon thy paths,?thy fields I ?(
Are not a spoil for him,?thou dost arise j brim
And shake from thee, the vile strength he wields, child
for earth's destruction thou dost ad despise, 4 \
dSpurnirg him from thy bosom to the skies. the j
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray 4 ^
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies j sw^'
His petty hope in some near port or bar, ! , *,
-- ! I-.I I'"
And dashest him again 10 eariu?uihb ,v,
The armaments which thunder-strike the walls J
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations nun ke. i l'Us> "
An? monarch* tremble in their capitals, | MC
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make ' , ^
- Their clay creator the title take J askec
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; | 'V
Those are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, J Si
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar said
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. ! '?!
i her :i
Thv shores are empires, changed in all save lliep ! '|{
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are flioy? j will Thy
waters wasted them while they were free, j 'I
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey 1 w'h
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay .
Has dried up realms to deserts ;?not so thou, ; 1
Unchangeable save to thy wild wave's play? ' f?
w - i. .u . 1 | but 1
lime writes no wtinkle on thy azure brow? |
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou roilest now. | i
i ik^K
? ? ?.? i 1,1 51
Thou gloriousmirror, wiit-io mc.ii.n.0-; w|
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, : ^ j j
Calm or convulsed?in breeze, or gale, or stoim. ,,omo
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime tjlat
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime-J large
The imagine of eternity?the throne thirt<
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime I tcretl
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone j 111 sc
"Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, brouj
alone. r^e,:
skin
Atid I loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy tliein
Ot youthful sports was on thy breast to be whci
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy mere
rl wantoned with thy breakers?they to me
comi
'Were a delight: and if the freshening sea, t a j1
Made them a terror?'twas a pleading tear, bcsid
Fori was as it were a child of thee, tweh
And trusted to thy billows far and near, in lie
,And laid my hand upon thy mane?as 1 do here. ing 1
??????from
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. j,
An Eventful and Remarkable Per,
... ^ cot to
sonal History.
The following marvellous and interesting nar- ,^s s'j
rative is given in a letter from Paris, under date fur (j
of the 15th January lust, from the correspondent
of the St. Louis Republican : jean]
Tlie venerable Abbess of the Ursulinc Con- plcu],
vent of Nevers, whose life was perhaps one of *jon
the most eventful on record died last week at <nfr (
the advanced age of ninety*eight. For fifty years betl
she has been an inmato of the Convent, winning ^0p.
the love and rc?pec;t of all who approached t}10 j
roni!i
In the summer of 1 *7C2. there broke out at
"Paris ft disease very similar to what is now call- jc
'cd cholera, and which was quite as fatal in its thcs<
consequences.?Although not contagious, the ^j.,
immense number of persons attacked by it led excc(
^ the people to think it was so, and terror took sjjj.g
iold of the minds of all. Mothers abandoned hous
"their children, wives their husbands, sisters their nia(j,
brothers, and almost as many perished by flight \
as by the disease itself. In two months thirty- {
one thousand persons were buried in the differ- ]10 h
cut burial-grounds around the city.?The hos- UIU}f
pitals were crowded?so crowded that the physi- u,
cians and nurses passed with difficulty among
the beds, and the demand for admission was so gn;i|
,rre<tf that every day a long file of sick might be
i at the door, some suppoited by relations,
the most part lying on the ground, waiting
il their turn should come to be admitted, but
n before night the half of them were carried
he cemetery instead of the infirmary.?As
y well be supposed, the task of the physicians
? no light one, and finally they were obliged
irganize their labor, and force themselves to
use a certain time every day, and take the
ice in turns, in order to be able to bear tip
ler the extraordinary efforts they were called
n to make.
Jne day, a young physician, he who twenty
rs later was known as the celebrated Dr.
ilie, was leaving the hospital to go and take
turn of repose, a servant man, breathless and
?, met him at the gate, and asked if hrt was
lysician. The doctor answered in the hi rine,
and the man begged him, for God's
jo to a house in the neighborhood and see a
person. Aithough against the rule they
i.~.i .1 ~ J 4?.. i
caiuuuaucu, uiu uuctui uuuscuuru) uuu
ducted to the house by the servant, who
ived him into a large handsomely furnished
n. In tli's room the doctor remarked first
ill, handsome woman, with her hair all in
rder, and her face pale as a corpse, standing
rand screening a child, which lay upon usoAround
her was collected a group of twelve
ng girls, who looked to the doctor to be of i
]y the same age, and made him suppose it
a boarding school, particularly as the young
. all wore dark green silk dresses, and had I
r blond iwr braided and tied with blue rib>.
The doctor could see 110 difference be- '
in any of them ; th?y tdl had fair skins,
II blue eyes, light hair, long noses and large
ths - but before lie could ask any questions
it them, the woman advanced huijiedlv, and
? i.:_ u.. ?u,. 1^.1 ,i..
u?? uiin u) lik; ami, ivru uiui iu lihj sui?*, nuu i
hoarse voice, said, ' Look at that child.*
doctor looked?before him lay a beautiful
girl of about ten years of age, but utterly
reut from the others. Her hair was black
idnight. and hung in ringlets over hershoul!
; her eves were closed, and her livid comou
and contracted features showed that the
iful disease had seized upon her.
>pen that window,' said the doctor, ' and
r some vinegar immediately to rub the I
's body.'
Yhat!' cried the woman, ' she has not got i
plague V
iVhy, certainly ; did yov. not know it I ailed
the doctor.
u>, no; take her away, take her away?she
't stay hereto kill us all.?Come, my daugh- 1
come away, (piiek ! Ohthe wretched '
, she will be the death of you !' and she j
ed the twelve girls out of the room and ;
ai'ier tliein.
it the doctor sprang after her.
Lre volt the mother of that child C lie
1.
es: but take her away?she shan't stay here,
lie must be put to bed ;uid taken care of,
t he doctor.
le shall not iiavo a b-d i.i b
way.'
ut wher 1 to take herb- be- a..-: |
die if ; . in v. d.
d eniv: take* her to the hospital: nr.ve.
??:.ty ta'-e* i.* : nv;.\ fr.tin t.h ? u .
i i i ;;i tlorntii'd t'V ti|t lei ..li . i'avu i'. j
tuna; u; at in.?t her, the doctor tried a inoini-ni !
rsuade lmr to do something for her c/oA/;
hiding it useless, and seeing that if In* left
ittle girl in the house, she would die from
ct, lie took her in his arms, wrapped her
blanket, and carried her to the hospital,
e lie was fortunate enough to tind a vacant
or the little sufferer. The doctor then made
inquiries concerning her parents, anu barned
Monsieur Doinergue was a manufacturer o!"
! means, and his wife really the mother of
eeti children, all daughters, and duly regisI
at the Mayor's office as having been born
von years. Six times Madame Domerguo
ght a pair into the world, all wonderfully
nbling each other, light hair, blue eyes, fair
and sharp features. The mother adored
i, and her pride and joy was at its climax
i she found her family again about to he
a<ed. But alas! this time she was disap:ed,
for a little girl arrived, but without .any
anion. This alone would have boon enough
ive turned her mother's heart from her, but
les this she was entirely different from the
;e others. The mother could see no beauty
:r clear bruuette complexion, her black curlhair,
dark eyes and exquisite features, and
the moment of her birth, little Esther was
solaled being, unloved and uncarcd for.
le her sisters were dressed in silk, she wore
m :inil wtiilp tlipv \vr>rp fivl mir.n rt-lintv
?i - ??j """ ?; "r"
she eat with the servants in the kitchen,
he grew she gave her mother fresh cause,
islike, for whereas her sisters were endowed
intellects of the most mediocre order, and
ed the simplest thing with the greatest dify,
Esther's talents and Cjuieknoss of pcrcepmadl
her the wonder of her sisters. Scelns,
and that her twelve nets were likely to
jrown into the shade, Madame Domerguc
aed Ether's lessons entirely, and the most
:>oor child could obtain was permission to
lin in the room while her sisters were with
teachers. By this means she was enabled
am a great deal, and afterwards often said,
? were her only happy hours. The father of
large family, though a kind hearted man, was
??L. ..i r l:- t>
juiugij cuiu iiitj ui nib >vill%
;, he was much from home., and when in the
c, never dared to interfere in the regulations
e by his wile.
11 these particulars the doctor heard from
servants and the neighbors, and the interest
ad felt for the child thus singularly placed
*r his care was doubled, and he determined
;e every means to save her life. He accordr
watched her himself night and day, and
ly found his efforts crowned with success,
child got well.
It was just three weeks after his first visit to
the house of Monsieur Domergue, that the doctor
returned, taking with him the little girl who 1
had been almost miraculously saved from death. '
! When he reached the door some men were just
bringing out two coffins to be placed in a hearse,
which stood in the street. The doctor and his ,
protege ascended the stairs, entered the parlor
and proceeded to another room, without seeing
anybody or hearing an}' noise. A deathly silence
pervaded the whole house. But Esther in
the greatest alarm pushed open a door and led
the way to the room where she and her twelve i
sisters had slept together. The door was open,
but four beds alone occupied the room, and two ;
of these were empty. On the others lay two of
the fair-haired twins, and bv their side stood
I Madame Domemuo looking? at them if stupified. I
- . 0 ? - _ - 0 4
Esther, with an undefined dread of something
frightful rushed up to her mother and threw her
arms around her. But as soon as Madame Do- j
mergue saw her, she threw her from her, then
seized her again atid would have torn her to J
pieces if the doctor had not snatched her from
her grasp. As it was, the poor child's face was
j all scratched and bloody, and she fainted almost !
I immediately.
4 Why do you bring her here ?' cried Madame '
! Domcrgue. 'She is the cause of all my misfur- I'
tune. There lie the only two I have left. Take ;
the little demon away or I will kill her in spite 1;
oT yoit!
Almr.it. frozen with horror, the doctor answer- i i
ed not a word, but bore the insensible and bleeding
child from the room, out of the house, and
placed her in a carriage \t hich he saw passing
and stopped. He ordered the coachman todrive
to au obscure little street where lived, in the
most humble manner, the doctor's venerable [
mother. She received the unhappy child, gave '
her all necessary relief, and installed her in a i
small room near her own. !
ft was as Madame Domcrgue had said; in ;
three weeks ten of her idolized daughters had
fallen victims to the terrific disease, and the day
after the doctor's second visit the other two died,
and were huri. d like their sisters. A few days (
more, and * he mother herself followed, and when j,
the doctor, i. a:ing of it.returned, lie found that j
.... .. . ?Aiu?r? ivoooc ntfrl ar\ ! J
I1UII&1", UiJtv *1J HK'irsj ?WU1 ^UUII^ ? V1VV.V) IMIU
full of the joy and pride of a large family, silent i
as the tomi), occupied only by a prematurely old j
man, left alone in the world and prostrate with ^
li s grief. A few months aftorwaids, Mr. Domcrgue
died in hopeless insanity.
Esther, brought up under the motherly care '
of Madame Soulie, budded into womanhood as ;;
lovely a young ?r.-ate cas could possibly be seen. c
When in her eighteenth year she became the wife
of the doelo1, who was now beginning to be
known in tl.an*I -*W -inado hor_appearame
in the salons of Paris and was for years
the most admired woman of the time. Siie became
the* mother of five children?four sons and |
one daughter?whom she brought up andedue.acst'
I to be an honor to herself and ornamenti
. it <lw.\- IWvwt 1 )r Solllie S
b i.. til:. of th--phvsieaiis of the court J
<> . .v : iliciitlic political iron bios
> : . ii .unfortunately, Wrote a 1
; ... . : : :i: court, and thus became
: !:-'i ma.;. I. it;- lad .f 175)2. at three '
i! . p..-. , le forcibly entered "
1J1 > ai '. > 1. a . diaggcd liiiti and h;s two el- '
Jest sons froin tiieir beds, and in spite ot the .
prayers and entreaties of the poor wife and mother,
carried them off. It was nearly a week before
Madame $.>ulic could hear any news of her 1
loved ones, and then?they had already beui c
dead four days?the guillotine had done i;> \
work for them. Madame Soulie clasped her
three remaining children' in her arms, two boys ,
? t
of seventeen and eighteen, and a girl of fitteeu .
years of ago. But as she strained them to her
in the agony of her grief, fresh trouble was pre
paling for her. Her sons vowed within them- j
selves to revenge the murder of their father and
b others. It would take too long to narrate all 8
the circumstances which followed: but these f
two young men placed themselves at the head j
of a conspiracy against the government, and one
year preci.-cly from the day on which she h id
learned the death of her husband and two eldest j
boys, Madame Soulie received a short note, as
follows: 1
Cokciekgerik, Thursday noon. Mother? .,
Dear Mother: We have conspired against the a
government?we have been betrayed and are to j
die to-morrow. Bear it bravely, mother; we die v
fjr our fat her and our brothers. ^
Henri et Victor. t
What words can describe the despair of that
poor mother.' At first she prayed God to take r
her life or her reason.?But a ray of hope dawn- v
ed upon her.?She might, |>erhaps, save her t
boys ; the tribunal which had condemned them
could not be deaf to a mother's prayer?a moth l
or's despair. But alas! Madame Soulie little t
knew the men upon whose compassion the count- c>
ed. Iu vain she supplicated, ia vain she prayed;
they ended by refusing to listen to her any len- Jj
gcr. She dia all that eouia possiuiy u? uuuu iu s
save her boys from death; she even after the ex- a
ample of Madame Chalais, tried to bribe the ex p
ecutioners. Hut they accepted her money and [
then betrayed her. Finding all her efforts use- ji
less, she tried to resign herself, and determined, f;
as she could not obtain her son's lives, at least t
to get permission to aid them to die. This was s
with great difficulty granted her, but at last she o
received it, and a couple of hours before the exe- t
cution was to take place, she presented horself t
before h<-r unhappy boys. Then all the gran- a
deur of her soul, the devotion, the resignation s
was so remarkable in after life, showed itself. s
No us<'less tears; no reproaches, no lamenting. j
One short bitrst of agony which the sight of the t
manacled limbs of her children forced from her r
in spite of herself, and she was done with this a
world. Every moment was precious.?God, and e
the eternity into which these two boys were soon \
to enter, formed the sole subject of the conversa- r
tion between the mother and her children, until | c
the jailor came to announce that the moment
had arrived to say their last prayers.
Matlame Sottlie stood by while the chains were
knocked off; she kuelt and prayed with the priest,
who had been sent to accompany the prisoner*
to the scaffold; and then she took an arm of
each of her beloved boys and left the prison with
them. They could not help pitying those two
handsome youths about to be executed, but tears
ran down the hardest cheeks at the sight of that
noble mother, still in mourning for her husband
and two eldest children, and now accompanying
her two remaining sous to death. She ascending
the scaffold with, them, embraced them ten
derly, offered tip a short prayer with them, and
then allowed herself t<> he led off by a friend.?
But .-lie was not out of hearing when the shouts
of the multitude announced to her that all was
over.
Well, in '9o she was herself condemned to
death, on the charge of concealing her brotherin-law,
a political prisoner who had escaped from
prison. A second time she mounted the scaffold,
and was preparing to die, when an order
came fur her release. She then retired to a little
farm she owned near Blois, soon alter married
her daughter to a man every way worthy ut
her. But misfortune was to be her lot through
life. Iler only child, all thai fate had left Iter
to love and cherish, died in child-birth, eleven
months after her marriage.
It was then that Madame Soulie turned her
eyes towards the cloister. After considerable
Jelav she was received into the Ursuline Convent
?* XT 1 10.1- 1- T V t.l
ji severs, aim m ic-o >v;is niaue uauv
which place she held until her death, ller last
moments were soothed by the presence of many
>f those upon whom she had conferred her bc-n fiis
and charities, and she died as calmly as an
nfant falling to sleep, her lips sealed to the cmnfix,
and her eyes turned to that, heaven to which
leriaiuK", if afflictions accord the right to enter.
?!:e had won.
The Travelled Whisper
The following sketch (says the Southern Lit rary
Gazette) is front the pen of Miss C. W.
3arber, the editor of the Madison, (Georgia)
Vainlbj I'isitor. The moral which it teaches is
lot less important that it is a familiar one. It
s a lamentable reproach upon humanity, that
here arc everywhere to be found, those who will
nhi&tu>r rimm r. -tnnlW; renutntion out of their
1 1 - -I
ove of gossip niongering. If this country wore
in empire, and we its despotic ruler, we would
ni.ict a law by which the tongue that uttered
lander should be instantly cut out !
u lit tel! the a tOid-to"T:re.-?::;orr.
4 I d ' riot Jiko t?air imvtkitig It,*' n|,is
icivd Mrs. Sawyer to her next door neighbor,
drs. Ashton, "but they do say that Miss Mates, I
>ur new music teacher, is no better than '.he
h .uld be, 1 don't think '.hat I shall send Ania
Maria, or Sirah Jane. True, she comes higliy
recommended, but Mrs. Goodenough, whose
laughter went to school last year, within twenty
nilcs ?.f Miss Bates' father's, toll me that her
1 uighter heard from one of her school mates, a
light whisper to Miss Bates' disadvantage; and
teople ate best known at home, you know.''
Mrs. Ashton held up both her gloved hands
n wonder and annroval of this sentiment, and
hen hastened away on her round of morning |
v.lls, all the wiser for her visit to Mrs. Sawyer's. J
Her next stopping place was at Mrs. Willis'. !
she found that lady over hersewingin the sitting
worn, and quite alone.
"I am delight-d to see you," cried Mrs. Ashon,
half breathless from fast walking. " It has
K-en age since I met with you last. How are
ou and your charming daughters. Melissa Ann
aid Julia ? The latter are at school, I dare saw
iy the way, Mrs. Willis, I have been greatly
hocked this miming. I i;c or should l.avc
beamed of such a thing, jus Mrs. Sawyer has
ust been whispering to me. I can hardly beicvo
it now. But I must beg you not to say a
vord about it to any soul living. I am so shocked
o think such a tiling could have happened!
hay don't mention it from me on any conside- !
alion, but. they do say that Miss Bates, the new
nusic teacher lias a rrru bod character indeed,
it home. Mrs. Sawyer has it. 011 unquestionable
uthority, and has declined the idea of sending
ler daughters 011 that account. But she is
oung and pretty, poor thing! and 1 am very
C.-.r lw.r -itirl u-iinliln'r ininre. her for anv
Wll> IVI i.uv. "?? "J -- %
hing in the world !'
Mrs. Willis laid down her work with eon.Uormtion
pictured in her face ; and the two ladies
rhispcred and nodded significantly, for the next
wo hours.
At the end of that time Mrs. Willis remembered
that she had a host of calls to make, and
ving on her bonnet, the two ladies went togethr.
Before night, the whisper that Mrs. Sawyer
i:nl thoughtlessly echoed from the tongue of a
ehool girl, had travelled all through the village,
nd ten miles into the country, and there was a
nospcct of its travelling on, 011, as far as the
Lcadcmy of B was known, and blighting
1 every family, where it was carried, the fair <
ime of a pale faced, sweet young creature, who j
iciit with patient assiduity over her task, iiiicon- I
eious that a breath more fatal than the simoon 1
if iho. desert, had passed over her character. If 1
hero is not deliberate cruelty in thus murdering J
ho reputation and destroying the influence of,
nother, and that other a stringer, tira'd and !
ensitive as the Mimosa which shrinks front the j
lightest touch, tell uic in what cruelty consists!
knd yet it was all the work of a whisper, a '
houghtless and unmeaning whisper. Miss Bates'
eputation \v;is re-established w hen she learned,
ifter weeks of suffering, the exaggerated reports
iverywherc in circulation in regard to her, and
irought testimonials of her innocence, from her
lative town, and from the first persons in other
.omrnunitics, with whom she chanced to be be
| fore acquainted ; it was re-established when she
' had stayed long in the Academy atB and
' lived clown the aversions so cruellv cast upon
| her. , , ,
But her case is not an isolated one. Many atld
I many a reputation, has been wrecked by busy bo|
dies, who have little to do at home, and abroad
! for employment; who love to gossip ovt r their
| neighbor's affairs and help on, with railroad
i speed, THE TRAVELLING WHISPER.
I -?t??-??From
the Unionville Journal'.
Young Men.?The idea is prevalent in soinc
' communities, that young men are fit neither for
i generals nor statesman, and they must be kept
| in the back-ground until their physical strength
' is impaired by age, and tlieir intellectual faculJ
tics become blunted by years. Let us look to
i the history of the past, and, from the long list
of heroes and statesmen who have nobly distinI
guished themselvs, we shall find that they were
j young men who performed those acts which
j have won for them an imperishable meed of fame
: and placed thAr names high on the page of hist
ay. Alexander, the conqueror of Greece, Egypt
1 and Asia, died at 33. Bonaparte was crowned
J Emperor of France when 33 years of age. Pitt,
I the younger brother, was about. 20 years of age
! when, in Frtian's Parliament, Kc boldly advoca!
ted the cause of the American Colonies, and but
i 22 when made Chancellor of the Excheqiieh?j
Edmund Burke, at the age of 25, was the first
! Lord of the Treasury. Our own Washington
25 when lie covered the retreat of Braddock'a
defeat, and was appointed to the commander-inchief
of all the Virginia forces. Alexander Hamilton
at 20, was a Lieutenant Colonel and aid to
Washington; at 25, a member or Congress; and
at .'33, Secretary of the Treasury. Thomas Jeffrson
was but 23 when he drafted the everraemorablc
Declaration of Independence. At the age
of 30 year1, Sir Isaac Xewton occupied the mechanical
chair at Cambridge College, having by
his scientific discoveries, rendered his name imnl
>rtal. .
We will add that John Rutlcdge was but 26
years of age when he went to the first Continental
Congress. Edward Rntlodge'wasbut 2-1
when he went to the Congress of 1775. John
C. Calhoun was but 26 or 27 when he was the
leader of the IIousc of Representatives, and
was mainly instrumental in establishing our nationality
through the war of 1812. Patrick
Hcnry was 44 a rash yoiith" when he wroto his
resolutions, which were destined to revolutionize
America. It is no sin to be young, however en
vious it may be.
| Farly Musical Edncationin Gcrmny.
[FROM SOUVENIRS OF A SUMMER IN GERMANY.]
j In \i31ting the school at Schwalbach, tho first
I room wo came to was that of the girls, who were
! all learning astronomy. A strange preparation,
thought I, for the after-life of a A assail female.
Who would think that the walking masses,half
crass, half woman, one meets every day in the
lipids and lanes would be able to tell whether tho
earth moved round the sun, or the sun around
the earth, or if the moon were any bigger than
their own rerping hooks? We asked tno master
to allow us to hear them sing. Great was tho
d light of the little madchens when this request
was mule kntwn; there was an uuiversal bright!
cuing of face3 and shuffling of leaves; the pedagogue
tcok down an old violin from a peg where
it 1-mnrr ntnl nr</?nmr>;inip8 tfipir au-pot. vnii<M in
a simple air, which they sung in parts, and from
the notes.
Tk' next room was full of little boys between
, six and eight years of age. They sang a hymn for
us, the simple words of which were very touching.
As 1 stood behind one dear little fellow,
"hardly higher than ihe table." I understood
how it was that the Germans were a nation of
musicians, at:d that in listening to the rude aong
of the peasants at their work, the ear is never
shocked by the drawling, untaught style of the
same class of people in our country. From the
time they are able to lisp, they are made to sing
by note. My little friend in the ragged blouse,
and all the other children, had the music, as well
as the words they were singing, in their hands,
written on sheets of paper; they followed the
time as correctly as possible, marking with their
little lingers on the page tho crochets, quavers,
rests. Arc.
At Leipsie, the most un-English trait I gathered
during my spallations at the window this
evening, was a group of little boys playing in
the grass-plot outside. They were all poor, and
a few stoekingless and were engaged in some
uproarious game when in the middle of it, the
little urchins burst into the most harmonious
melody, each taking his part, soprano, tenor,
bass, Ac., with exquisite correctness. I saw
them jump up, and linking each others arms in
true schtel-boy fashion, sally dowu the street,
vociferating their song in such time and tuno
that but for my initiation into the mystery at the
Schwalbacli school, I should havestarted at them
as so many little wonders. What a delightful
system is this music ! as early and indispensable
a branch of education as the A. B. C.
DisTRSsiXG Event.?We were shocked yesterday
morning to hero the sudden death of Miss
Fannie Taylor, an inteiesting little girl of 12
or K1 years of asie, and daughter of Alexander
Ta\ lor" Fs]. With some of her companions
she was playing on a huge pile of wheat in one
of the upper stories < f tlio Gallego Mills, and was
drawn nown by the suction of the trough thrcugh
* 1 -1 ?A * KAIAW* Of>4 Q\A ?r?D
\V| l.'ll 11 to Will'HI o raun, mi vi gjc ?t??
litterally buried and suffocated under the wheat,
When she wes taken out, medical aid was at
hand to iclieve her if possible, but the vital spark
had fled. The sceuc of distress at the awful
death of so sweet a girl, is described to us as
being intensely painful.?Richmond Enquirer.
Where merit appears, do justice to it without
scruple.