Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

f 1 w ?> ? . > ' r > THE CAROLINA SPARTAN. BY cavis & trimmier. Dnrotrii to Southern (iigl)ts, Politics, ^griculturc, omt HtiscfUmuj. $2 pee annum. ? VOL. XIV, ?. .. ...- SPARTANBURG, S. C? THURSDAY, MAY 14, 1857. ' THE CAROLINA SPARTAN. BY CAVIS~&~TRIMMI?R. T- 0. P. VERNON, Associate Editor. Prioa Two Dollars per annum in advance, o $2.50 at the end of the year. If not paid unt after the yeur expires $3.00. Payment will bu considered in ndvnuoe if mnd within three months. 'iio subscription taken for leas than six innnthi M ?ney may be remitted through postmasters n * our risk. A Ivertisements inserted nt the usual rates,nn Ncontr.aoU made on reasonable terms. T'le SrARTAN circulates largely over this an tdja'm inz districts, and oHfersnn ndmirabletnedior oar friends to reach customers. Job work of all kinds promptly executed. HI tnks. Law and KijaitT. continually on hnti< ?r priii ?d to order. CAROLINA SPA [{.TAN LOYOLA AND JESUITISM. " Am Address, by Cadet W. It. Mitchell. at tk< Semi Annual Exhibition of the Citadel Acade my. Charleston, April. 1857. Ti.?.a i. >. ? l iucio is ? siiuiiinuv in unman eimn which never fail* to uiako itself felt and ac kno * lodged. Whether it he tho struggle of an individual mind or tho combined ?f fort of many, this proposition is equally true; and it should be so. Power and force are the elements of the sublime, and nothing of which our limited capacities can conceive possesses lhe.su elements in a higher degree than the mind. Whether tho effort be called forth by the good or the evil passions of the human heart, whose secret en ergies lie unseen iu the calms of life, it is etill sublime. The moral splendor which wraps the spirit of reform proceeding from Luther, gams nothing, at lea-i in grandeur, by acoiiijHiitioii with the giant power, which, raised by the wand of a Loyola, conihalted might ami light?not alone beside the Khtne, but among the jungles of the Ganges, in the wild forests of America, and on the wilder plains of Africa: not alone in Europe, but throughout the whole habitable globe! History affords no event more clearly delineating national character, than the da? n of learning and its various effects. When ancient literature begun to attract attention, while the more dreamy Italians weie seeking for solutions to wild meiaphy sioal problem*, the Works of Gieece and Koine excited among the Germans a love of philo*opl)i c?l investigation, which, even to the present day, has not ceased to chuructciizo that peo pie. Hetice it was that Lather, when lie /_l* ?s-' ....... .en iimivui; iinuiiv uKi n?>i itiiii I 111? ends for whiv.+ it intended, nought for die cause in the proper manner. German labor had unlocked the Ihlde: Luiher went to the Bottrce, his eyes woie opened, and lie preached lite Reformation. llcro was the great did'erence between Luther and Lntola. The old religious chivalry of Spain, ndrsed by ber MoOii-b win, was not extinct, when in a liiscayau cattle, the young cion of the ancient and noble house of Loyola received the rudiment* of a inilila ry education. Every leisure moment <v?* employed in reading or listening to the tales of chivalry. Leading his homo to become a page to the king, he soon obtained the com mission of a captain, and glowing with , tho enthusiastic fervor natural to the age and circumstances. sortght eagerly A?r ienown. At lliu moment wlum ih.? Iu..r..i_ begin to crown Ins young bows, hi- lolly l)u|ii>s t?t military renown are bligiite I, by a wound received a" the -iego of Yuui|>eluitu. Home on a litter to a neighboring cmmIc, he calls for Amidns-?fur die tales of 'cltivilry! The pillaged castle affords nothing but a Life of Christ and llio saints. lie reads, reads with avidity, for lieie he finds a new field of glory. Struck with rctnoise for hibins, does he, like Luther, go to the Ihhlei No; it is a closed book to liiin. lie retireto the heights of Moiiserrat, there with all the cbivaliic ceremonial to devote himself, by a spiritual knighthood, to the service of "God. Loyola's chivalry was never lost: Its diieclion only was changed. In Loyola weie continued the fanatic for or of St. Francis of A-sisai and the polili cal cunning of Machiavelli. Fiom such ele im>.nts what might we not expect? lie ile- ! tenuities <m a pilgiimago to the Holy Land, and is on hrs way before his wound is heal- j * <ed. Tlie gallant young captain has become I .an ascetic and a flagellant. At Manrezn he luins heimil. The proud Spanish noble begs liia bread at the doors of Manrezza's cilizei.s. Finding all his penitence has ! .brought no peace. Illsmacerations ledouhle, .-till, worn out with fatigue and suffering, he ' has diaggod himself to Home, still panting . for the sight of the holv places. The pi I- i griin's boat io gone! "What matter if ships be wanting!" lie cues! "1 will pass the sea upon a plank!" Such was 1 Tx.vnl?t Viiii.i ?i.:?.- ? ?j ........ ..u iunu?? iiiin ui Jerusalem, or paint lite fanatic enthusiasm with which he viewed the scene* made holy by the footsteps of Christ, and ins sainted followers? ?It is a story that can bo better imagined .than told. At the holy sepulchro he receives his inis- I sion in a vision. It is to convert the pen ! ypies of the East, Imagination now begins to.cool. St. Francis gives place to Macliiavelli. Loyola calculates. lie cannot wait ?nay, he cannot even read the language in which all learning then was locked. Here arises the necessity for an amount of pie liminary etfon which might stagger the sanguine fanaticism even of a St. Francis. But what does Loyola, the inulillated inva. lid, the fanatic visionary! Yesteiday he was dreaming beside Ml. Calvnry. Mark him now: a pupil in the elementary schools of Salamanca! A few years rooie, and he is in the University of Paris. With a inind that glories in dilHculties, ho majors everything. Thirty-five years old, and tlio great object of his life has never escaped his lips! His college room-mates were I'ierro le Fevro and Francois Xaiior, an Alpine shepherd and a Navar rose noble. By do giee* he opens his designs to them, and instils into their minds the precepts of a mysterious book which ho composed in the monasteries of Spain. J hey catch the bait, and are his forever! Others roon felt tho' " influence of his fascination. On the heights of Montmartre. almost within the hum of gay ami busy Paris, his fow disciples received the orders of their master. Clad in the habiliments of pilgrims they set out, ignorant of the object or the end of their journoy. But a master mind directs their footsteps. Two years after, by different routes, c they arrive at Venice, amid whose marble palaces, and perhaps to the song of the ' gondolier, Loyola forms his company. Be11 sides the master, tliore arc eight simplej hearted men, whom hu has taught the virtue of obedience. The organization was in <1 its essence military, and, according to the 11 cu-lom of the limes, took the name of its captain, the. Company of Jesus. "Jesus is j our captain!" said Loyola: it was himself, however, that led them to the onset. ! The company being formed, it onlv ro tnained to securo the sanction and consecra' tion of the pope. Loyola sends his disciples. Fearing to show the mark of omnipotence upon his own brow, he dares not go hime self. In the humble, obedient, disciples, the pope thinks ho sees mere instruments with which he may work out iiis own designs. ' He has felt the blow of the Reformation, ( and has trembled for his power. It is as a terrible moment! Catholicism , embraces Jesuitism, and finds itself entan, gled in a network which binds it to a corpse , ?a corpse instinct with a mysterious vital action, yet dead in all that reudeis life beautiful or valuable! LikeOclavius, having reached the goal of his life, Loyola seems to repulse it. When his society i* alioiit to name its general, he declines. He wishes to be the last?the honor is too gieat for him. But ho yields at length to the entreaties of his disciples, j and retires to chuckle over his sue( k?! A few more years, and the anchorite ; of Manrezza, from his villa at 1'ivoli, dicta ' toil to trembling popes and kings; and it j had become a higher honor to he an hum hie di-ciple of Loyola than a caidinal of Rome! Thus came upon the stage of human af fa irs that terrible pbatilom of tlie six I teentli century. As Minerva sprang fully : aimed from the brain of Jove, so it sprang j from the apocalyptic mind of Loyola, bear j ing from its birth the impress of his mighty | genius# From the cradle ii im>t wiili mmA ; IT" | i Mlion, hut only to overcome it. The public voice was raised in vain. Loyola passed away, but tlie spirit which lie raised lived. | and still lives, to blight and to destroy. Loyola's last, advice to his disciples was a treatise on the \ irtue of obedience, in which , he tells them they should he in the hands of their superiors "jtCiinde ac cadaver**?as a corpse! They followed his advice. Their colleges were soon spread over tlie greater part of Kuro|?c, ami enthusiastic missionaries carried the words of Loyola to the most distant parts of the earth. Intricate ami mysterious policy marks every step of their p ogress. Not satisfied with the people, j noitcM upon uio conscience* of king*, and within palace walls proclaimed the j most feaiful doctrines. The histoiy of (lie sixteenth century allot ds the most appalling instances of the |x?wer of the order. He- p hind each king we see a Ji*snil priest, in whose hands lite king is hut a machine. Like a gtiin phunloin, it plants itself beside ^ every mouldering dynasty .... wooing it io destruction. Father Nithard stands con' l?!s?or to the last Austrian king of Spain; ,( V'alois has its Father Augei; and Knglaiuf- h | House of Stuart its Father Peters. While , France r? nietnbeiH the splendid reign of t j Louis XIV . she will not owns to romemltei Father le Tellier, under whoso finger she ( scarcely recognised her old king. And what is the history of their mis- ( siori*? It is a history of mysteriousdesola lion*. \\ here are ike empires tliev reared ^ m Asia and in South America? A lugu r I hriou>, mysterious silence reigns over Japan ( ! and Paraguay, which speaks, louder than j | words, of the death of all the vital energies | ' of a people! In our own country, they (1 i marched into the wilderness far in advance _ ! of civilization. Tlmy wore the dress, and ^ I conformed to the manners and Customs ot . the Indians They followed him. in his p canoe, through the windings of unknown t rivers, and slept with him in the w ild forest. < They wove the story of Christ into his wild ( traditions. Without knowing it, they pre- v nareil ili? wuu fur > .? v' ? - , - -v ?. " spirit |( of enterprise. When onr Atlantic colonies i ^ began to enroaeli nj>on their forest domain, ft they Kent the Ravage to roll hack the tide j( of emigration. And now their catechism (| changed with tho occasion. Of this, one t of onr old authors* gives an example, t n ' Who killed Christ!" '1 he ready answer of tho catechumen was, "The hloody English!" Such was the method they every- ' a where used to convert the savage. In Europe, almost every country has had r its struggle with the Jesuits. It was hut a yesterday that France woke to find herself caught in their toils. Seising upon the institutions of education and the confessional, they struck for power at the fountain 11 head. Forty thousand pupils were in their ~ schools, and an hundred thousand confes , sionals were scattered throughout France, "j1 France, by a powerful etlorl, tLrew oil' their trammels. Aro there Jesuit* in our own country? ! This question was a comiuon one in France, when their power was at its height. That . B there ate ratniticalions of the order here cannot ho doubled; but they wcuk in the dink,and strike when least expected. With our free institutions, where is the power ' that can suppiess or destroy them? Our only hope is in an enlightened public senti w ment; and here wo Hud new confirmation j of the time honored political maxim, tliHt ''Popular education is the true euferfuard s> of National Independencew k A.liiir's History of the American Indians." i "i London, 1775. ! j| An Irish lady wrote to her lovor, beg ! ging him to send her some money. She ; a added, by way of postcripl, I am so ashamed h of the request I have made in this letter, hi that I sent after tire postmaster to get it fc back, but the servant could not overtake ! him" I ?? A Meihodi.st Minister Hunting Snake: Tli? Rev. Dr. Weston, in his lute volume of "Tales and Takings," gives the followiiij entertaining picture of plantation life i Mississippi. Uncle Rilly and Aunt Sus aie negro characters; they need uo speciu introd action. In a previous chapter, the reader had glance at the features of an old fasliione "two-days' meeting" at this eaily day u these outposts. Two days' rest to the pieach er were generally found necessary followiiij such an effort. Tuesday moaning had ar rived, my weariness was relieved, and 1 wa prepared to join "Uncle Rtlly, on an advet tore into the swamp to see its lions," au< especially its snakes. It is yet early in tn morning, however, and the cold rain of few nights since renders it necessary tlia we wail until the hot hours of the forenoon I will seek a brief interview with Aunt Susa in her little cabin, "Good morning, Aunt Susa," said I, as stepped into her quarters. "Why, good niorniu', Massa Watson laws o' marcy, dis no place for do likes o you." "Why," said I, "Aunt Susa, have, yot some places here too good for trie?" an< saying this, I advanced toward a little man tel shelf and seized Susa's pipe, togethe with some nico tobacco leaves of her owi raising, and was preparing to regale mvsel a little, when she llew towards me, exclaim ing: "Massa, you no shall smoke wid dat pipe it no go in your mouf, dat sartan. Here In a new pipe, and a mighty good 'uu, loo an' like to the colt, do foal oh an ass, w* read ob, massa, which uo one eber ridt _.r 1 . mure, no ooe lias etrersra >ked in it." And here she commenced tilling it tin as 1 linen myself into the rude resemblance of a chair "Susa," said I, "wheio did you learn tc quote Scripture!" "Why, massa, blessed l>e your lips, 1 lam much from the p'cachers; but dnr, nias-a, look dar, by tie side ob ye!" when turning around, my delighted eyes rested upon a well soiled, well-thumbed, old fashioned 1>ihle, that had recently received an additional covering of buckskin. "Susa," said I, "where did you get this?" "I brings it fiout old Tennessee," said die, "twenty years ago," saying which, she handed me the new pipe, on the top of which she had balanced a coal from the lieaith. Inhaling a wlnfFor two, said I: "Susa, can you read?" "Yes, massa, blessed be God, I reads I.ii'lllv well f.ir .1., I.t-" ill -p- -j .<? unrn UU III*-, IIU <10 IIUMI words are n great bother?some ?'b which [ skip*; but I li'ib lend dill Bible ilar a nighty heap; read il from tie apostle Solo tiou all tie way to tie prophet Saul; but oads Je most in ilat pait wluir Jesiis be on le earth, it beta' tie most easy." "Can Uncle Billy lead/" 1 asked. "No, he say he loo old to lain, n *v; but 10 sei lieie an' smoke oh nights, an* listen nighty close to wlint 1 read*. He links it e enough for i to know how to read." "Who learned yon to icad, Su>?a?" "Well, i'ow, dal he a funny question, ia?e if I toll you, I fear you won't believe ne nohow." "Why, yes," said 1, "Susa, I will believe ou." "Well, den, 1 tell ye it was de angels. 1 10 know how to read, an* I lavs an' Olios in' prays about it oh nights; I den goes to leep an' dreams ahout it, an' most eherv light for a year I prays an' cries and takes ip my Bible, when one night it seem a- it' in angel comedown, ait' 1 don't know who her 1 'wake or sleep, 1 sees nil letters in de elters in de book, an' it say tome, 1 >?s be i, an' dat h, an' dal c,' ami so on; an' arter i little while 1 gits up, 1 opens my Bible, vlien 1 knows most ebeiy let'er. Next norn, young massa Tom, who know'd hoi o read, come in here to run hull els, when axed him, says I. 'Tom, does you call leso letters disl" "Why, yes,' says he, 'you Id fool, you.' 'Now,' says I, 'Tom, you'll rant some ol> my good 'bacon soon, an' if 'ou 'buse mo dat way, you no get it.' Well,' says he, 'Aunt Sue, if yo'll run my lulh tsfor ine dis inornin', I'll come in here 0 night an' show you a heap about readin'. >o I run Tom's bullets, and he cotnes at ight, an' I turns mightily. But Tom rouldn'l lam me long, anyhow. So I told dm dal 1 tind him in 'haeca and run his ullels always, if ho larn tno a little now n' den. Well, Tom did; an' you see dal 1 was de angel fust, an' Tom next <lnl start le on in readin'. An' Ol what a blessed ing il is; 1 would rather die d m gib up ly Bible; an' l's been a readin' dis morn ?'; but before I say dat, I tell you again I eber should read a hooter but for dat an el." Here I was for a moment profoundly ruve at the mysteries of the imagination; ml then smiling at the garrulous old saint's reduli'.y, said 1: "Susa, what is that you have been readig tliis morning!" "Why, as I was sayin.' I was readin' in le iiee-sis about tint sarpint dat was in**'*' illy dan <le oder era tile oh de field, which spose mean de he he brack, kase he came inn dat place wliar the wicked go rial urn nil de while wid (he an' brimstone." Here I smiled ngain over this new exu osis, and said; "Aunt, what did you read alxmt tlio old jrpent for this morning!" "(.), I hardly knows; I guoss kase Uncle ally tell me you gwiue snake l.iinlin' to ay, an' kase as how it says de sons oh de oinan shall bruise <l?r liou.l-" 11 ere I paused to simplify tfio theology f this blessed p tssage, which ! feared this ntplu saint had understood too literally, hen she exclaimed that she "had often ind oh thought dai!" and that Jesus to her was do sweetest liamo under do sun;" and tat she loved to sing, "Jesus my nil to heaven is gone," stavo of which, with dampened eye*, she ad already struck up, when Uncle Hilly's rrival announced all things in readiness >r onr tour in tho swamp. Accompanied hy young Massn Tom, and i* /. mnj.tgn headed by Uncle Hilly, each 5. with n rille on the shoulder, wo wore soon >s at tlio edge of tho lake, or morass, to which reference lias been iirtole. Following along M iis low shore somo half a mile, iny nerves n were gradually schooled to the test which I they wero to he subjected by frequently meeting with his soakethip, that literally swarm in somo parts v?f these morasses. It (j is not tho ordinary water snake, but a lacy, | t sluggish and arrow-nioiuhed, |a?i?onous reptile, called by the swampers the "moccasinmouthed snake." lit executes his bite but clumsily, which greatly lessens the danger of his presence, and be seldom leaves the shores of these unsightly marshes but a fe w . I yards; another niosi I'oriuusie circumstance; | and in tlio season of the year already refer red to, they seem to bo congregating for t winter quarters, which may account some- . what for what we shall in a moment detail. The bile of this reptile is deadly, quito as much so as that of the rattlesnake or co,>j ' peihead. I was informed that swine very readily devour them, which item of infur- ' matioii 1 should have fell quite as well not ? to have received, as 1 had been enjoying at brother S.\ tho luxury of some wcll smok, ed side bacon, along with soino kraut and j corn dodger. ^ At the next meal I felt my preforenco for venison very much to pre- | r dominate. We soon arrived at Billy's , canoe, and in the centre of the rocking C thing I was seated, with Uncle Billy and Mussa Torn in either end. Two paddles soon sent lis some distance out into the . inud-ly and shallow waters, and amid the ] huge trunks of fallen trees and conical tus ( . socks which constitute the musk rat's home. '. Snake after snake soon began to make its appearance, coiled upon almost every square I inch of suriico. On a single log 1 counted | ten. ourselves not more than ten feet from | , them. I shuddered, and armed with a hig 1 , , club, was eoii-tantly assuming attitudes of , defence, while Uncle Billy shook his burly j , sides in impertinent laughter, and Mama ! , Tom amused himself by seeing how many , decapitations he could make by a given , number of shots. (>n we paddled, and , more numerous bec?nte the snakes. )cca- , sioually tliev splashed about the sides of ( ,,iir i.,.i.i.;.wJ .......;i..~ i . .. uiiiiimii-, miu nuw, as we pass ! . ed under llio low limit of a Iroe, Hilly would \ knock them willi his paddle almost into ; , the canoe. I remonstrated, pleaded, halloed, hul could procure no retreat. Tom went on with his snake shooting; Uncle , Hilly paddled us further and outlier into , uuedeinonintn, when ti>e honihle idea took possession of my mind that slioulj we lip ( over, (an event by no means itnprohnhle.) , what position could he conceived of more hoirihle than thus he tumbled into tbcveiy toils of a thousand detestable reptiles, amid f mud and quicksands'. From entieniing I became peremptoiy, and Uuclu Billy paused. When at a safe distance from the do , testable "varmints," we counted all that were visible. 1 counted one bundled and , fi'ty snakes, ti e furthest ?>f which was not c fifty feet from me. When thoroughly sat- v istied that what Uncle Billy had said ahoul ,, *'de way lie would show me snakes was a , I s? -I caution, dat sartiu, was no exaggeration, t we returned to the shore and to our home, j With T mi and Uncle Hilly ll?t* sight was ^ common-place. Upon my mind it had a t far diften nt effect. It was the reality of (1 ; more than 1 had ercr read or diearned jt about honihle dens of serpents, whole re- ( ' ginns now and then ?trewed with lattle snakes, etc. I said little more than to re ^ mark that " t was a mighty snaky country j, , there,*' at which Uncle Hilly laughed. I j, stient tins 1,'vi i.f ilim .! >> - -- f ... ..i-w * ? ? ill iviullljjr my i (] j Ihble. H??t with hi# , as with Aniil Susan, j, , the (.wliji* \ of "surjiints" became rather ob ^ tru?ive, Bui il my wakiti<j thoughts were j of snakes my (Iri-amiitj; ones that ti giflatly exaggerated the whole matter. My sleep was a> much interrupted as if 1 had j been the donniM.t c - ...v . ?? ??llk t?l , ^ sleep steadied my nerves toward morning, i ho that sweet sleep, oblivious, triumphed foi ,j ;t refreshing se i*?m. 1 awoke at an hour , rather late, and tf my first thoughts were > not of ".-arpii is," my earliest ones, noltns t| tvife/te, certainly were. Opening my fjo, a 1 what should 1 see directly over my bed. pro r i ding from a knot hole in one of Ilio rough (, logs, but the head of n detestable snake. At ,, lirst I thought I dreamed, and it could not v ; lw a reality, when, watching my loathsome p visitot for an instant, I saw the head turn, t j, anil the forked tongue protrude, but I saw j no more. In an instant I was on the floor, XJ and seizing tlio most imbspen-ablo of my ' wardrobe, I retreated l<> tlie hall, with a |, scream that secured the anxious presence of i Susan in a luce. I told her what I had v witnessed, and pointed to the knot hole ' over illv bed, not doubling but there were . . . i ' one or two others in mv bed, if she would | but look. At that moment the head of a p little harmless reptile, with a white ting i' ali.nit H> neck, again made free to take oh p servation from the knotdt'de. As wo were j, joined by one at d another of the members ( of the family, old A lint Siici'h bomb, which | Iliad commenced with the tii>l sight of the | caiise of inv lears, became peifeclly ol?tie> ? pel oils. , j || "W hy, inassa, dat no more'n a little bit v ob a milk snake, an' he no more lute dan n a worm. Dey come back ob de bouse here , to de spring house to steal my milk, mii' I t( kills one ebery now an1 den; an' dev does p climb up de coiiicis ob Je house, h>r I seed , r, one dar toiler day, an' struck it wi.l my J j, broom. I sposo dat log hollow, an' he ,, Cieeo in ilar ltiil if il .? " full ?.?~l. I - " I,ul" 0 snakes tl.tr bo no danger, 'hit saiiin." (>i Taking it tluis coolly, ami with ouch pro- i| yoking sympathy f<?r my feats, Aunt Knsn n retired to complete her breakfast, w hen, as i< sho retired, I sent tins rebuke after her; l> sai I I, "Aunt Susan, I hope that snake will r< i get into your hetl to-night, that we may see how easily you will bo frightened," when, -i j remembering my lecture in the morning, j b I she wittily retorted': I g "Preachers dat come into do?e woods to ; .1 bruise do he ul oh ilal old snrpint, d<* dehil, I in (isn't ho frightened into a lit at do sight 01 oh a milk snake." *| There was much more in Aunt SusaV b j ratou than she herself comprehended. Ii 1 d 1 w fruitfully suggestive Ves, thought I. N( the missionary of the*? woods must not he u man of starch and buckram, of taper fingets and tender stomach, kid gloves and 1 broad'loth, velvet slippers and spotless lilien. Here, the stalwart form, the brawny fist, the hunting shirt, with Bible and dis ciplitie under one arm, and rit]** on the other, nro the best representatives of the missionary. Like John in the wilderness, lie must wear what the people wear, and eat what the people eat, asking no que*- | tions. Yes, Aunt Susan, he must not be afraid of snakes. If gifted in the tact of his holy calling, his education and refine ment will only aid him to adapt himself to these ruder paths of life, ami cause him to be a guide, light, and example upon them. But if wanting in this tact, his limiditv. and in some respects his manifested superi oritv. will not he appreciated. What would he natural itr another latitude would here be prudery. What would be becoming in another place, would here be ridiculous; . and mora than one would exclaim with Aunt Sin-tin, l'f*rtachtrs dat come into dese rroods to brume de /trad ob dot old sorpint, de drbil, inn an t br Jritjh tened into a Jit at j tie siyht ob a in Uc snake!" Spiritualism. This matter, we notice, i? still attracting attention in the land of isms. Mr. N. P. Willis, in ono of his very interesting "let ters for invalids," gives an account of one Mrs. Hatch, a medium, in which it is made very apparent that if Mr 11. is not yet it Convert to spiritualism, he is iit a fair way of becoming a con veil to JIatchism. Here is what Mr. Willis lias to say about Mrs. liatch, the new star of the spirit world: Mis. Hatch was introduced to lire audi i-nce a few minutes niter we took our seal in a pew of the Tabernacle?;i delicate fca Lured blonde, of seventeen or eighteen, with iiaxen ringlets falling over her shoulders, movements deliberate rind sell pos-es-ed. I voice calm and deep, and eyes and tingeis ; [to way nervous, lire subject being given j LO her bv a gentleman in tln.erow.1 ! her inuii is a pari of Hod.") she eoininen- ! ed will) a praycr?and very curious it mis, o sec a lung-haired young woman stunJ ng alone in the pulpit, Iter face turned up ivanl, her delicate bare arms rai<e l in a dergyinau's attitude of devotion, and a rliureii full of people listening attentively ivliile she prayed! A passage iti the Bible recurred to tne: (I.**t your women keep silence in the diurches; for it is not permitted unto them o speak. And if they will learn anything, let them j isk their husbands at borne; for it is a shame or women to speak in the chinch.] [Corinthians xvi. 84, 35. But my instinctive feeling, I must own, nude no objection to the propriety of the . terfoimuncc. The tone and tuaniier were | f an absolute sincerity of devoutness which j t>m pel led ie*pect; and, before she closed, I ( vas prepared *o believe her an exception? j illier that a ni do spirit was speaking ' Irtougli lier lips, or that tho relative posi ion <>t the sexes is not the same as in the lays of St. l'aul. II >vv was it with the ( 'oriulhiaus? Women ate certainly belter ban we. in these latter da\?, and, abstaining far nearer to (*od, tu iv pro|>erly speak o us, even in li>>1 \ places?or si? it seemed l> me while listening to Mrs. Hatch. I poo the pi uloiin in the rent of the puliit sat three reporters; and tho daily pa t ters have giveu outlines of the argument \ >ol w eeii the fair "medium" an I an nut ago* j stic clergyman who was present. No re- ; ort can give any fair idea of the "spirit resence," however?1 mean, of the self ; i.?-.se>se<i nihility, clearness, promptness. , ii'l undeniable superiority of thefnrnalo rea- < nnt?r. Helievo what you will <?f Mi*. , I toll's s.?uice of inspiration?whether she i peaks Ii?t own thoughts or those of ether piiit-, -it is uh nearly supernatural elo , i jiionce as the most hesitating faith eoulil tea- i unahlv require. I am, perhaps, from long | tudy ami practice, a? good a judge of fit ! , ess in the use of language as most men; ml. in a lull hour of closo attention, 1 mid detect no word that couhl ho alloied 1 :>i tlo better?none, indeed, (and this snr ( ni-ed ino btill iti'iio.) which was not used I nth strict fidelity to its derivative mean* i ng. The practiced scholarship which this i st point usually lequires. and the curious | y unhesitating and confident fluency with i illicit the beautiful language was deliver d, was (critically) wonderful. It would I ;?ve astonished tne in an extempore speech | V the most accomplished orator in the , rorld. Tho argument was long. and. on the ! I 'ergy man's part, a warm and sarcastic one. i he reverend gentleman, (what is enmmonV described as "smart in an," with li'gli < callh, a rerun kahly large and high foie- i end, ami a lawyer's subtlety of logic.) ah , | lm 11 ated speeches with the "medium," I'm , it hour and a half leaving the a ulienec. thought, mi iiiirmaislv <>n tin- la U's si |,- ] ut, what was very curious ami amusing, i as the dillerence of ? >pn and dignity in j i lie operation of the two minds. She look > .1 ,.t tiws . -i . .... -u.y .. I r. i ' I-IJII it II (IJ li'II lOW. I III In. I lir..n ill .. I.I. I . w' I . . ^ t\ *< v 11?11u* r*IK* \v;K SO j * ore, I v the courage, sk'll ami calm good ( | in|xir willi which fh? mot his ohy oliom i the full ftcc of their manning o ly, di>- , I'll nrding their sneer*; ami lie was severe,! i y lwi*ling tier words into eon?triietioii.-. 1 t ol i ntcm I I'll, and |?y foallieiing the sur i asms thereupon with religion* cotnmonpla- i t"i. instead of tin* sonorous ohscuiity ami t liapsodv of which the spiiituahsts are coin- i lonly accused, lier aiguinciit w.n tho di- , \ ctesl and coolo-l possible specimen (my j i milier ami I thought) of fair and clear i ? jasoning. j < If you recollect our conversation* on this ( ihject, inv expei ienco in spiritualism has i ecu always unsatisfactory. The "Fox 1 t ills" am! others have tiied their spells up- c n me in vain. It has seemod to mo th at ( \ was one of those to whom was not "giv- ; # u" (a* the Ihhlo snvs) "the discerning of t >itils." Hut it would ho very higotcd and t lind not to s( o ami acknowledge the won- \ erful intellectual demonstration made hv j Irs. TTateli. and hew to explain it with hor | t age, habits and education, is* tlie true point | at i* lie. I think we should at leant look at it seriously?if only in obedience to the Scripture exhortation which closes the chap ler on this very subject: 'KJovet earnestly tho best gifts." Weddings that are Weddings. The last number of Harper's Weekly gives a detailed account of the recent mar rtnge of Mm Kothschild with her consin Baron Alphonso de Holimchild,of Paris. It is a right interesting account, but we are not quite certain that it is all true. If it be, no wedding anything lev* than royal has ever Come up to it in splendor. The bride is handsome, and was weighed down under the presents she received from her kinsfolks and friends. One set of jewelry alone was valued at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars! Think of that, ye poor maidens. who have nothing but love and hope to commence life with! Another gift was from the oh] uncle of the bride, by whom, mainly, the match was brought about?an old plain man. with more money than a "mule could pull down n hill." He left his presents nil until thecerc motiy was about to take place. It was feared that he would ho niggard; but, as will be seen by the following, this was a mislake! Dav after day it leaked out that this tin cle had ordere ! that, and that that aunt intended to give this?but what uncle Anselm was to give no living sou! coidd divine. Even when the day came, and strong backer I porters arrived deeply laden with the treasures of this world, and the presentroom was duly set out with gorgeous < ift *. ?-? v* a * I no wonl cuttie from Baron Autelm, an 1 a | dreadful susph ion crept over llie inindt of tlie family that lie was going to disgrace himself l>y giving nothing. At the very last moment, when the old gentleman had depreciated immensely in credit with the female members of his family, there was a faint cry that he was coming. There was j a strange mixture of twinkle in his eye? I reminding one of the stories told of his fa llier?and of quivering about tho corners of his lip*, as lie approached his pet and ki>snd hec "iLenora," said tho old Baron, "here is a letter for you." Ami he handed her a fat envelope, and sidled away. "A letter, uncle, for me!" "Yes," said the old man, with a stoppage in the throat, "a letter?good advice." And he disappeared. Of course there was a rush to open the letter. It contained bant bills for jive millions of dollars. This was his present. The reader will appreciate the emotions which forbid us to pursue this branch of the subject. But we have an account of another as grand a wedding on the tapis. But this is royal, as will be seen in tlio following record of it: A l\uis letter of the 2Gtli ultimo says: "The approaching marriage of the Sultan'* laughter with the son of the Pasha of Egypt has given an immense impetus to the haul romuierce of Paris. The Sultan, with nn unexampled geneiosilv, has given comtnia ions to the extent of four ami-twenty mil lions of francs for jewels and embroideries destined for the bride. I ho cup from which ihe bride drinks on her wedding morning is alrea Iv executed, and is valued at thirtytwo thousand pounds sterling. It is of i pea shape, pure gold, encrusted with diamonds of tin- large-t size and immen-e value. These hang detached from the cup, and move in a constant flutter. Nothing more beautiful than this cup has cv- , sr been produced. The bridal si ppers, ofj :!<>;h of gold, embroidered in millions of liamomls, have aUo created a sensation among the sight seers of Paris. Tiitsentirely confirm* 'he tales of eastern magnificence which we have been accustomed to read with tire imjveitinent incredulity of European ignorance: and a- wo look wound the ro ut at M tyers, where these wonders aredbp! ivod, we believe, like Ilastan the shepherd, that all things am possible to his liighness the Padishah. The we lling robe lias not vet arrived from Lyon*, | but the jewelled border, which is to Mir ; round it. is aire i |y completed, and it is absolutely dazzling m its tuagniSconce. By the Sultan's desire thi- border, which is of sn arahe-pi- pitleni is made to contain pecitneus of everv precious stone at prose nt j known un-l-r tlie sun; and the design is so lic.itlt f.illv carried out, that, although as nt Miy jewels t?re collected together as the ipn.N* mil hold, y<it ?Jo hot seem overload 1 or crowded together In any way." m i'omfosis 11.0 business of joint.ng imposts in one hi which wo tin. derive) important a-Hi.?tniico li >111 elntin'slry. Escrv plant is composed of certain eoii-aitneiiis, Icrived cillior di ecllv fit mi lire s >il 01 through the medium of the atmosphere. I: lias been ooiul''.-.ivel\ loovn h e*|teri'itoni, llial tlio l?o>i niiiHtiu! iltnt iiiH In* applied'o ' die grape viho, i* .1 (omiixmI formed princi ' pally ot its own f -It age. In like minuet ' ac tiiol llial llto n lieal straw, and iho liatilm , ' f (lie potato pi.on, c institute tlio best malilies lor tlio MisteilaiiCO ot tlioso crops ; An tloiny a'.so t niics us lliat the residuum I | <f all vegetables, or thai portion of thetn 1 \ a li n il remains after decomposition, conla its i ho true fubulmn t their respective Iribs, ! | ttid that in no way can their giowth l?e , nore effectually pioinotod than by ihetr ap- 1 | tlication. Fins i>, indeed, the course nature | , nirsiies. In our forests the oiiiv aliment 1 | lio lives icceive is furnished by the decay ' | >f the annual foliage, with tlio exception if a certain though unascertained amount , >1 atiMosplioiie lood derived through the uVe- , liuill of their leases, and which is also of ( .egetahlo ongui. Tlu-?e f?cl? indicate a ( letiuitu con use to he pa >u?d ill feodjug our , hops. All vcvclalilo m?i4* * 1-' - rm np? , with tlio pn u-iploi of irpioilwotion, am) t ihouhl consequently bo economise*) ami i urntnl to pruti .ib'o account. Oar Ian*)? ( no in want of all the finotifying suh*tMiices , vo ran procure, ami tlu.i i? one of lb?i most | >rohfio source to which wo can hopefully i < ipply. Girmnntoinn Tdeprnph jl i vr. 1 <9* I Garden Work for May. | it time now tli.it nil seeds were in the 1 ground, And this will be the working month ; for the g*rden. Thin out the vegetables with care and judgment, and stir the surface soil frequently with the b<Je. It label* ter to work the grtrden just before night and in the early tnoruing. Sow late cabbages and collards; continue > to plant eggplant and peppers; plant Lima beans; continue to plant corn for roasting* ears. Onions that are Wanted for tile table should not be allowed to go to need; break otf the seed lops as fait its they appear. which will throw all the nourishment that would have gone to the perfection of the Reeds into tie bulb. The sartio with the Irish potato; pinch off the bloom buds as fast as they appear. Watch now for the miller that produces the green cabbage worm. This miller may It- neen just at evening flitting from plant to plant, depositing its eggs on the under aide of the leaf?one miller will lay some five hundred eggs?these eggs soon hatch nnd produce the green worm so destructive to cabbages. As s<x>n as the miller makes his apperance. kindle small fire* just at night in several places in the garden, ami the moth will be attracted by the light, and flit into the fire. Continue to plant okra. If you would continue the okra stalks in boaring until frost, allow none to go to fteed, hut cut the pods as fast as they are large enough for nse. These may be cut into thin slices and dried for winter u?e. The first pods that appear should be saved for seed; in this manner we may have farlu okra. Thin out the beet*, parsnips, carrots, salsify and Mince. Save the fi st squash and cucumber for seed, but allow no pquasbes or cucumber to ripen on vines that are to continue in bcaiing. Empty ihe soapsuds upon the cabbage square. Mulch with leaves or straw, Irish potatoes, cabbages, English peas snsp p< lo beans. There is no labor pays better through our long dry summers than mulching the garden and fruitorchard. If the striped bug is eating uptiie melon, squash, or cucumber vines, mix guano with gypsum* and dirt over the vines, and they will not trouble them more. Lose no timo in getting in seeds of savory and medicinal lierlm. Dies* the asparagus bed with salt, nnd the brine of the beef and pork barrels; this will effectually keep down the gr&ss nnd weeds, and invigorato the asparagus roots.? CottoH Planter and Soil. Doos.? Dog* are very useful animals. In China they are converted into pot pies, i.. .i.- * ? -* ... tuc laic region*, according to I>.Kane, titoy pull sledges over the ice. On the Alp*, tbey are used l>y the monks of St. Bernard to pilot in lost travellers to their hospitable retreat#. Showmen make use of them to tell lite ages of paople. In Florida and in the West, trappers, hunters and Indians tnake use of them to hunt bear, deer, panther anJ other wild varmints. In more civilized society thoy aro used toset birds and chase foxes. They are also fondled in fashionable society by the fair bands of lovely women, and soon become as foolish as their mistresses. In big cities they aro used to go to market, to kilt rats, which they are expert at, ivs sometimes llicy kill 50 in a minute. Thev are also u>-Gd bv l?ntek?i* ?<* catch cows with. Very frequently they go eiazv or mad, then they bito people and give them hydrophobia for nothing. Is N'-wherry, however, their sphera at action is raoro limited, and their manners very had; owing, no doubt. ?9 is the case with puppies having only two legs, to a defect in their early education. According to the Panlayraph, "there are but two things for which they are remarkable, but as tl?ey do tlreso things well, no one has a fight to make any com plaint*. Vhev are celebrated for eating meal and batkmg at folks on the ddewalk*. There appears to bo a rirnlry between them to. see which can cat the in?*?t and baric the longest. In the matter of harking, sometimes we think one particular si >g is a little bit alien !, but when we pass on a .square or two further we hardly know what l<> think. The big dogs appear at fii?t to le a long distance ahead of the little ones; but the whiffets make up in per-everanc what they lack in force, and the question of superiority is consequently a hard one to settle. Kor nn impetuous unset the big ones are preferable; but the email by would probably win in a long contest: a b-ltili ' iimn 1.1 ! ??? '? - ?' 1 1 ^ , v..?u:ii lie very apt "i.tko his money on their pertinacity. Their favorite place, when harking, is on the inside >>f h fence, ami this fact account", in all probability, for the itnmenw number of medium sized bricks lyi'ig wbonl ?"nie people's house*. Nervous people object to being looked at. ami often say, 'It'* a pity that ? dot! isn't dead." Such wishes iinli a-.e bad temper, and ought not to bo expre><cil above a whi-per. The desire to w it no -s the death of a dog shows a bloodthirsty disposition which cannot be too trongly reprobated. I >.>g* scarcely deserve death for barking at folks. They can U cured .it the Itabil very easily. A few gr ?in? dI" strychnine, properly administered, wili fffect a pcMinanont cure.? Uiting Sum. IIosk TnAiNtxo.?Pillars for roses *hou!? t'O a font in diameter, and arc best made of Ileitis work or rods of iron. As tho lendng >li >o:s come, tliey ought to l>?? wound spirally nrotind the pillar, at such distance from each other ns will enable >them to fill up the space Irelween witdt foilagc. Their euvliug shoots then constituto-the tree, and ill tite si le shoots bear their bloom and mi in a pillar of ?osi ?. When the buds fir-l show in spiing. it will l?o desirable tw jjo over the roses carefully to remove any ili.it are in ihe way; ami (lie growth of mine ro*<-s will be found so JifKi-ieiil from hat of others, that one aort will Want enormo(M room to develop it* shoots and bloom\ aliile another will make but -hort branch.?* and bloom abundantly. M my pillar or tliinbiug roses iun over ttrchwa from pillar o pillar, or along festoons. The lx*at way o manage those parts whivh form the arch, >r Festoon, is merely to thin out their weak branches without shortening their strong >ne?, lieo.nrse they will hlnoiv more ribuulantly