Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 05, 1857, Image 1
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-HTo i.B111EK&oo.,Proprietor..} : An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and'Commercial Interests of the South. fuwna.ran,???*?*
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VOL. 3. YOEKYILLE, B. O., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1857. NO. 44.
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- DON'T BUN IN DEBT.
"DonH Tjan indebf:"?never mind, never mind,
If the clothes are faded and torn:
Fm 'era op, make tbem do ; it is better by for,
Than to have the heart weary and worn.
WCoHI love yon the more for the set of your hat,
1 Or your ruff, or the tie of your shoe,
The shape of your vest, of your boots, or cravat,
Jf they know you're in de!>t for the new. .
There1! j no comfort, I tell you, in walking the s ireet
In line clothes, if you know yon're in debt;
And feel that perchance you some tradesman may
meet,
Who will sneer?"They're not paid for yet.
Good friend*, .let me beg of you, don't run in debt,
If the chairs and the sofas are old?
They will fit your back better than any new set,
Unless they're paid f?r with gold;
If the house is too small, draw the closer together,
Keep it warm with a hearty good will;
A big one-unpaid for, in all kinds of weather,
Will senid to your warm hearts a chill.
Tj>ob't ran in debt?now, dear girls, tate a mnt,
- (If the fa shions have changed since last season, l
Old Natnre is out in the very same tint,
And old Nature, we think, has some reason.
Bnt jost say to your friend, that you cannot-afford
To spend the time to keep up with the fashion;
That your purse is too light and your honor too
bright
To be tarnished with such silly passion.
Gents, don't run in debt?let your friends, if they
can,
Have fine houses, feathers, and flowers,
But, unless they are paid for, be more of a man,
Than to envy their sunshiny hours.
K you've money to spare, I have nothing to say;
Spend your dollars and dimes &9 yon please;
Bat, mind you, the man who his note has to pay, j
Is the man who is never at ease.
Kind husbands, don't ran into debt any more ;
'Twill fill your wife's cap fall of sorrow,
To know-that a neighbor may call at your door,
With SB&you mast settle to-morrow;
Oh! take my advice?it is good, it is true !
(Bat, lest you may some of you doubt it,)
Fll whisper a secret, now seeing't is you?
I have tried it, and hnoic all about it.
The chain of a debtor is heavy and cold,
Its links all corrosion and rast.
diid i t o'er as you will?it is never gold,
Then spurn it aside with disgust.
The man who's in debt is too often a slave,
Though his heart may be honest and true;
Oan he hold up his head, and look saucy and brave,
When a note he can't pay becomes due ?
j Ceittpenmce feag.
?
EXTRACTS
From Lectures on Temperance, by President
Notty D. D. LL. D.
There was a time when the whole Christian
church could be congregated in an inner
chamber at Jerusalem. Now its numbers,
reckoned by millions, are spread abroad I
over continents and islands. Within even
our own recollection, the same inner chain.
ber would have contained all the advocates
of total abstinence in Christendom. Now
their number too is reckoned by millions,
- to Calf hirtVio inhabitants
ana weir iuuuiwuc w >v? .... ....
of miitfiy h kingdom, and the seamen that
navigate the waters of many a sea.
Daring the ages gone by, the ruinous,
loathsome and brutalizing effects of intern*,
perance were extensively experienced and
deplored and counteracted. Governments
legislated, moralists reasoned, Christians
remonstrated, but to no purpose. In the
face of all this array of influence, intemperance
not only maintained its ground, but
constantly advanced ; and advanced with
constantly increasing rapidity. Death indeed
oame in aid of the cause of temperance,
and swept away, especially during the
prevalence of the cholera, crowds of inebriates,
with a distinctive and exemplary
vengence. Suddenly the vacancies thus occasioned
were filled up; and, as if the
course of life whence these supplies were |
furnished was exhaustless, all the avenues
of death were not only reoccupied but crowded
with augmented numbers of fresh recraits.
The hope even of reclaiming the
world by any instrumentalities then in being;
departed, and fear lest Christendom
should be utterly despoiled by so detestable
a practice, took possession of many a reflecting
mind.
In that dark hour, the great discovery,
That drunkenness is caused by
drinking ; moderate, temperate, continuous
drinking ; and that entire sobriety can
be restored and maintained by abstinence:
in that dark hour, this great discovery
was made and promulgated to the world.?
A discovery which, simple and obvious as it
seems to bo, had remained hid for ages?
during which no one dreamed that mere
drinking, regular, reputable, temperate
1 ' J ? looo f V) M f
driQKlU?, lQJureu auy uuc, tuuuu iMg .......
it produced, and by a necessity of natnre
produced, that utter shameless drunkenness
which debased so many individuals, beggared
so many families, and brought such
indelible disgrace on community itself.?
This discovery, though not even yet generally
known throughout community, has relieved
more misery, conduced to more happiness,
prompted to more virtue, and reclaimed
from more guilt; in one word, it
has already shed more blessiugs on the past,
and lit np more hope for the future, than
any other discovery, whether physical, political
or moral, with which the land and the
age in which we live, have been signalized.
*. By this great discovery it has been made
apparent that it is not drunkards, but moderate
drinkers with whom the temperance
reformation is chiefly concerned; for it is
not on a change of habits in the former, but
the latter, on which the destiny of the state
and the nation hangs suspended.
Drinking, and the manufacture and sale
of that which makes drunkards, operates reciprocally
as cause and effect on all the
parties concerned.
The manufacturer and vender furnish the
temptation to the drinker, and the drinker
in return gives countenance and support both
to the manufacturer and the vender.
All these classes must be reformed before
the triumph of the temperance cause will
be complete; and the reformation of either
contributes tothe reformation of all. Every
dram shop that is closed narrows the sphere
of temptation, and every teetotaler that is :
gained contributes to the shutting up ofa !
dram shop. And they must all be shut up, |
the rum and the wine and the beer selling '
grooery, and temperate drinking relinquish-1
ed, or drunkenness can never be prevented, j
society purified from crime, relieved from
pauperism, freed from disease, and human
life extended to its allowed limits.
That drunkenness, by a necessity of nature,
is produced by drinking ; MODERATE,
CUSTOMARY, REPUTABLE DRINKING J and
that such is the settled, unchanging order
of Providence : and hence the frequent,
frightful, loathsome manifestation of this
abhorred malady, among, and only among
temperate drinkers, so called; that is,
among those who have the rashness, the
temerity, I had almost said the impiety, in
the face of this settled order of God's unchanging
providence, to subject the living
fibre of their own organism to the corrosive
action of intoxicating poisons; poisons
furnished hy the Author of all good for
medicine, not for aliment?and not intended,
and declared by the effects they produce
not intended, for habitual use.
This discovery is not fancy but fact; an
ascertained, palpable, indubitable fact, at
the knowledge of whioh we have arrived by
collating the data furnished during other
ages and in other countries^ and comparing
the same with the state of things existing in
our own; in the prosecufion of which inquiry
we have visited the localities where
intoxicating liquors are manufactured, and
sold, and drank Wehave marked their effect
in the hut of ignorance, and the parlor
of fashion; we have actually taken the
dimensions of the miseries they have occasioned,
and summed up the number"of the
dead which they have slain; and while doing
this, we have been surprised to learn,
that drunkenness was not, as we had once
supposed, a calamity resulting from some
single, sudden, overwhelming indiscretion,
or at most from some few flagrant, wanton
cases of criminal indulgence, into which
men of every class were liable to be surprised;
but that it was a calamity confined to a single
class, the moderate drinking class; that the :
victims were never " teetotalers," but always
moderate drinkers, and the process always
moderate drinking?a process not sudden,
but gradual, beginning when drinking
began: continuing with its continuance: and
making its silent, undiscovered, unsuspected
advance, covertly and without sign of
progress or note of warning; till suddenly
friends and kindred are awakend to the
knowledge of the alarming truth, that, seduced
by moderate drinking iuto druokoDness,
a father, a sou ora brother lies in ruins.
And having discovered this truth, to w>t,
that drinking, I mean temperate drinking,
is what makes drunkards; a truth momentous
indeed, and big with everlasting consequence?but
a truth hid for ages?and still r
hid from numbers; having discovered this
truth, we hasten to announce it both to the
vender and the drinker; to announce it, not
in the language of rebuke and crimination,
but in that of Heaven's own mercy?saying,
as an Apostle said, " Brethren, I wot that
through ignorance ye have done this, as did
also your rulers," who have licensed and by
licensing sanctioned the doing. And full
well we know that even God winketh at
those bygone days of ignorance, though now,
and far as the light shineth, commandeth all
men everywhere to repent.
That self-denials and sacrifices will be required,
in effecting that change in our social
habits which is called for by this discovery
of the deleterious effects of even the moderate
use of intoxicating liquors on the human
constitution, must be admitted. And
it must also be admitted that, so far as sacrifices
are concerned, manufacturers and venders
will be chief, I had almost said, the
only sufferers. Still it must be recollected
that those are sacrifices that patriotism as
well as religion sanctions; and such too as
are elsewhere called for. whenever in this
onward movement of society any new and
valuable improvement is introduced. Not
a canal can be excavated, a railroad constructed,
a steamboat started, or even a
spinning jenny ora power loom put in motion.
without imDairio2 the fortune of some
/ 4 U
and taking away the means of procuring
bread from others.
Aud yet these partial temporary evils are
submitted to, and often without a murmur,
even by the sufferers, cheered as they are by
the prospect of public, enduring, superabounding
good.
But never was the endurance of private
temporary evils encouraged by the promise
of requital in the bestowraentof such public
enduring and superabounding good as in the
case before us.
0 ! could the employment of capital, and
the consumption of provisions, and the
waste of labor, in the manufacture of intoxicating
liquors, be prevented; and could
the moral and physical energy, now paralyzed
by their use, b6 directed to the production
of comforts, how different would be the condition
of all classes?especially of the laboring
poor, who now, small as their earnings
are, eagerly purchase, and unheedingly press
to their lips, that cup which is ever, to those
who taste of it, the cup of affliction?often
even the cup of death !
Brethren, inn-keepers, grocers, whose
KneinncQ it Vine vippn tn mpII tn ilrinlrprs tViP
drunkard's drink, has it never occured to
your minds that the liquors dispensed were
destined, though unseen by you, to blanch
some glow of health, to wither some blossom
of hope, to disturb some asylum of peace, to
pollute some sanctuary of tinuocence, or
plant gratuitous, perhaps enduring misery,
in some bosom of joy ? Have you never in
imagination followed the wretched inebriate
"whose glass you have poured out, or whose
jug or bottle you have filled; have you
never in imagination followed him to his
unblessed and comfortless abode ? Have you
never mentally witnessed the faded cheek
and tearful eye of his broken-hearted wife;
never witnessed the wistful look and stifled
cry of his terror-stricken children, waiting
at night-fall his dreaded return; and marked
the thrill of horror which the approaching
sound of his footsteps sent across their
bosoms ? Have you never in thought marked
his rude enterance, his ferocious look, his
savage yell, and that demoniac phrenzy, under
the influence of which, father, husband
as he was, he drove both wife and children
forth, exposed to the wintry blast and the
pel tings of the pitiless storm; or,-denying
them even this refuge, how he has smitten
them both to the earth beneath his murderous
arm ?
If you have never heretofore considered
these things, will you not now consider them,
and give up an occupation so subversive of
virtue, so conductive to crime, so productive
of misery ? You would not willingly,
even though it were desired, you would cot
directly furnish your customers with pauperism,
insanity, crime, disease and death;
why then supply them with what produces
these, and more than these; more of misery
than eye hath seen, or ear heard, or than it
hath entered into the heart of man to conceive
?
But the sale of liquors is your employment,
and it furnishes you and yours subsistence.
Be it so; still, is it a desirable
employment? Are you willing to live, and
thutyour family should live, on the miseries
endured, and the crimes committed by
others, in consequence of poisons by you
dispensed ? Are you willing to receive and
treasure up the profits, which arise i'rom the
widow's tears, the orphan's cries, the maniac's
loss of reason, the convict's loss of
liberty, and the suicide's loss of life ? Are
you willing that death should find you still
corrupting youth, dishonoring age, and sending
waste and want and battle ioto the
families of the poor; and disgrace, disease
and death into those of the rich; and subTTrt-rfinr*
in Krtfli flin nnnrofl aP nnfnro on
TgiUUg) All WV/VUj VUV WUIOU VI UMVU1V) uv
that in the habitations of maternal kindness,
and under the tutelage of paternal virtue, in
place of wise and good and useful .men, debauchees
and paupers and criminals are
reared up ? Are you willing death should
find you still preparing victims for the poorhouse
and prison-house and grave-yard? .
And ye, men of fortune, manufacturers,
importers, wholesale dealers, will you not
for the sake of the young, the old, the rich,
the poor, the happy, the miserable, in one
word, for the sake of our common humanity,
in all the states and forms in whieh it is
presented, will you not shut up your distilleries,
countermand your orders, and announce
the heaven-approved resolution,
never hercaftor to do aught to owoll the issue
of these waters of woe and death, with
which this young republic is already Hooded?
Have you never thought, as you rolled
out and delivered to the purchaser his cask,
have you never thought how many mothers
must mourn, how many wives suffer, how
many children must supplicate; how many
men of virtue must be corrupted, men of
honor debased, and of intelligence demented,
by partaking of that fatal poison, dispensed
from you, seller, and to be paid for
as per invoice ?
Have you never thought what a moral
blight there was to be set abroad over that
hamlet or village, where the vile disease and
crime-producing contents of that cask,
drained to its dregs, was to be palmed, under
the guise of a healthful beverage, on the
orderly, uninformed and unsuspecting inhabitants
thereof? In your own poor-houses
and prison-houses and grave-yards, in the
beggars that frequent the eity, in the loafers
that infest the suburbs, and in the shoplifters
and incendiaries so common in both,
you see something, indeed, but not a tithe of
the whole evils which the traffic in these accursed
liquors produce, sent forth, in quantities,
as they are, along those extended channels
that connect the far-off lakes with the
ocean?along the no less extended seaboard,
and up the great valley of the west, to every
islet and glen, over every railroad or other
avenue, to every inland village or shanty or
cabin, inflicting everywhere the same miseries
inflicted in the city from whence this
element of evil was sent abroad?impairing
the health, diminishing the vigor, and sowing
the seeds of death in the constitution of
the hardy laborer in the field, the ruddy
housewife in the family, and the pale infant
in the cradle?sharpening the ^varies of the
trader, inflaming the vengenceof the natives,
raising the war cry amid the hunting grounds
of the wilderness, and rendering savage
life itself ldfes secure and more comfortless,
to the foot of the llocky Mountains, and
even the regions that lie beyond thein.
But it were vain to attempt to portray the
severity or take the dimensions of the evils
produced by a single cask of intoxicating
liquors, inconsiderately sent forth from the
warehouse of the sober, moral, and often
religious dealer, to the far-off west or perhaps
to some other continent, or to the islands
of some distant sea, there to execute
unseen, and on beings unknown, its work of
UVJUl/ll tuci c bU Oauuuu iuv- tuiooivuu?jj
" demonize" the savage, and cause the
hopeful convert to apostatize from the faith
he had professed. These are evils, however,
which God registers in the book ot his remembrance,
and which the day of judgment
will bring to light; as well as those other
evils nearer home of which we have already
spoken, and, would time permit, might still
farther speak; for at home and abroad, in
the city and country, in the solitude and by
the way side, it is not blessings, but curees,
that the venders of intoxicating liquors dispense
to their customers.
A Numerous Family.?An exchange
says: "At Ischnia, Cattaraugus county,
New Fork, there is a family named Farewell,
unsurpassed in numbers by any in our knowledge,
among whom the utmest harmony of
feeling has prevailed for years. Not long
since there was a school in their district composed
of twenty-six scholars, all cousins?
and the school was taught by an own aunt to
all the children/'
:
For the Yorkville Enquirer.
nnuTuiiufluniHi:
BY P. D. 8.
" Ku lira avah brorin mhan, an u iren atar noe aT
eban." ' I
(A dark arid gloomy ruin?the abode of the bat I
and venerable owl.)
v~ THE SAIDI HlSDU.
"Sunt, qui ezistiment, aniiham postmortem in 1
carport animalium variorum trgnblatam use: usque, <
ante mortem, alii dicent, nam mirabile scriptu! nu(
per certiores facti sumus?muttix probx^qut manme
testibus?ut quidam putr infelind mutalus esset." '
Alb: Monach : Anglic: De animd. <
The forests were clothed in the gay and <
variegated habiliments of autumn?gold and '
crimson and brown and purple and green.?
The season of "the sere, the red, the yellow 1
leaf," was come, and as the dolphin is said '
to assume every hue of beauty just before 1
its death, so the aged year, in his latter days, 1
was arrayed in his chameleoniiike glory-robes. <
The mournful gusts swept by, and stript the '
trees, and bestrewed the earth with their fo- '
liage. 1
It whs a dark and sombre evening,-and '
gloomy clouds were floatingin fantastic mass- *
es athwart the leaden-colored sky?cheerless <
and chill. I had walked forth on my accus- 1
tomed ramble, and whether or not, on this '
particular evening, my spirits were more than '
usually depressed by the utterly drear and 1
dismal aspect of external nature and its po- 1
tent influences, or whether they were merely (
affected by one of those unaccountable at- '
tacks of melancholy which often oppress us, (
and for which we as often strive in vain to 1
assign a cause, I will not pretend to say;- c
but a deep and settled sadness of heart over- '
came me, and resisted every effort to shake '
it off. '
Almost invariably I would seek the forest '
?for I love the shadowy and cressusenlar
dimnesB of the woods?and visit the ruins
of a castle in the neighborhood; and on this
occasion, in an abstracted and thoughtful
mood I walked thither, and companionless,
for with the old philosopher, from philosophy,
I have learned to converse with myself, I
needed no companion. The castle is situate
ti/out half a mile from ray abode, and in the
very depths of the wo?d?embowered and
nearly hidden from view by the dense and
luxuriant foliage of the aged and venerable
oaks surrounding it. A dark and mysterious
black stream glides in silence along beside
its mouldering walls, and is then lost
amid the gloom of the trees beyoud. Stillness
and desolation reign over all things, and
rarely, if ever, does a human foot invade the '
horrible solitude. The glad note of the bird '
is never heard there, nor ia one ot the leathery
songsters ever seen, and the bat and owl "
and toad monopolize its dnsky shades.
The lowering heavens and dreary darkness
of the evening added to the sullenness, and
lagubrious effect of the scene, and as I approached,
my despondency sensibly increased.
The once, heavy, and ponderous towers, with
frowning front, rose stern and grim before
the eye. The other portions of the castle
had long since crumbled away, while these
two tottering relics alone were left. The
ivy with fond embrace wrapt them with its
leaves, and crowned as a wreath their embattled
roofs; and the oaks with spreading
branch and low-bending bough shrouded
them in a deep shadow. Bats flitted here
and there, and occasionally the shriek.of the
unmusical owl was heard. The stream wound
by without a murmur, and as unruffled on its
surface as a glassy mirror. It lay betwixt
me and the ruins, and as I drew near I
watched its silent current, reflecting, how
striking an emblem of "this our mortal life."
As it flowed black and soundless onward,
amid the dark forest, just so upon the tide
of life are men borne along, and noiselessly
passing, are lost in the shadows of the unseen
land.
I seated myself upon a pile of rubbish j
near it, and gazed upon the desolate and de- j(
serted halls of the once proud and lordly D
castle?the Castle Grrjmme! Weighed down j
by melancholic reveries and emotions, I fruitlessly
sought to account for the unnatural depression
of my usually buoyant spirits; to divine
the chuse of the gloom that now so filled \
my soul?partaking somewhat of the charac- a
ter of a presentiment?boding good or evil, fc
I knew not?a hopelessness of heart?a sad- t
ness overpowering my every nerve and ener- (
gy. And cast my eyes where I would, the c
same sonow-charged atmosphere seemed to j
envelope everything, so that, in despair, I ^
succumbed to. the painful feelings that the t
woe-stamped picture served to excite. 1
As X sat in a halt-dreaming, halt-musing i
stupor?for I can call it nothing else?and c
was gazing upon the dreary towers looming t
up there in the twilight haze of fast adve- t
niDg night, suddenly looking upwards, I saw i
in one of the higher windows of the western 1
side of the ruin, a pair of glaring red eyes, (
and glowing as fiercely as living coals of fire; I
and oh ! how my heart thrilled within me at ?
the sight. Why? Wa3 their owner more i
than mortal that their effect was thus potent ? ]
I could not say. With my attention riveted 1
to the spot, I presently and distinctly dis- 1
cerned the form of some animal, but further t
my vision failed me. In a few moments it 1
again appeared, and full in the window; and i
I could then plainly distinguish the outlines 1
of a dark area cat. of an enormous size, and (
which still glared upon me with its eyes of 1
living fire: most unlike those of any cat that
I had ever seen. I was completely enchained
by their glances, nor for some time could
I move; when, with a hideous cry, it sprang
from the tower?some twenty feet distant
from me?and passing over my head, disappeared
in the atreous and stilly stream that
quit the castle and its walls, and abruptly
diverging, glided past the heap on which 1
was sitting. I roused me as if from a lethargy,
and turning round, looked for the singular
apparition, if suoh, indeed, it might
be. But, in v&ln?it was gone; the stream
$ '>; * >
. fts - A
was as dark and silent as before, nor had a
splash been audible. In deep thought, nay,
in wonder, I hastened homeward : for night
was at hand, and the rain had begun to fall.
Being arrived, I related to my friend,
Grantley, what had occurred. He said nothing,
but answered me with a peculiar smile,
ind after supper, put into my hands an anjient
and yellow-tinted MS., from which I
gleaned the following elucidation of the mystery
appertaining to the Grey Gat of Castle
Grymme:
"In ye year of Graocl400, ye baron Gou<
tran le Grymme received a grante of landes
< from ye kinge, in consideration of yesaidc
iQputrap'sservice, in ye wars, uutoe hisliege
' lorde ancrtnajestie; ahd^e saide Goutrttn
1 builded himselfe a Castle, in ye midst of a
'certayne forest wherein his landes lay; and
' this castle hee called Castle Grymme.
" Now it happened not many longe years
{after that ye baron died, and left a wife
' and a daughter?ye la'dyes, Gertrude and
1 Gondoline. And farre and wyde through<
out ye broade realmes of Englande, noe
i* 3 u i :J .
UJUIU uuuiuiie uuu uuauteuus IUUIUCU tuau
ye ladye Gondoline coulde beo founde; insoemuch
that shee was sought after by
manie tho' preferred none. At which time,
there came toe Englande, a Frenohe
pnyghte, by name, Sir Godfrey de Grenoble;
and hee hearing ye fame of her exceeding*
great lovelinesse of ye ladye Gondoline
of Grymme?came thither to gaze
upon her: nor that longe; for hee soon
loved her, and shea, him, and so in a short
time they were married; and they had an
onlie sonne. In process of days, ye childe
waxed stout, and was attained untoe his
second birthe-day, whenne his mother determined
to have him baptized: since, hithertoe,
Sir Godfrey had strargoi.i refused,
and absolutelic forbidden yc holie rite.?
For his conduct hec gave noe excuse, and
it was a matter of surprise to alle. Wherefore,
ye ladye Gondoline, asagoode Chris
tian, deemed it nccessarie, resolving toe
doe"it secrctlie, and soe toe elude her perverse
husbande. Now one nighte shee
made rcadie toe take him toe a neighbouring
monasterie, where a prieste was prepared,
and shee sette out as shee supposed
without ye knowledge of her lorde, and took
with her but a few servantes. But it soe
befel that, while they were in ye midst of
ye forest, they were intergepted by Sir
Godfrey, whoe slew one of ye men, and
Vnv-mrrlino lar?vr*? onrl xra roeio Itnrnar.
u,vu&ulv J . J V* "V* f ?
! tie back untoe ye Castle. Thus. was her
f aim sadlie defeated by her wicked lorde.
" Whenne they were arrived, ye ladye
Gondoline retired in griefe to her chamber,
with ye weeping infant upon her bosomine.
Shee laid herselfe down on her couch, and
folded yeohilde in her armes, and soe slept.
But ye nexte morn, whenne shee awoke,
shee founde not hersonrie upon her bosomme
but a huge, grey catte, with eyen of fame I
Shee started and shrieked, and ye catte taking
affrighte there atte, leapte from ye
bedde, and darted away, and ranne from
ye castle intoe ye court-yarde, and with an
horrible crye, caste itselfe intoe ye darksome
streame that girdeth ye walles. On ye
anniversarieof that memorable day, ye 27th
of October, 1400, it is stille toe bee seene in
ye forest, and aboute ye castle, and at eventide
plungeth intoe ye poole agayne, nor is
seene more till ye next anniversarie. Wee
ourselves have ymette it.
? His mother became crazed; and his
father, Sir Godfrey, whoe turned out toe
bee a mightie necromancere, anc^whoe was
ye author of this diabolical deed?hoc est,
ye transformation of his sonne?was excommunicated,
and soon after disappeared,
nor was seen, or'heard of, more. Ye castle
fell toe strangers, and was afterwards
demolished in war. .
? This was writ by us, Geoffry, brother of
Grymme?stowe Abbage, near untoe ye
Castle Grymme. Writ and dated ye 5th
day of Januaryj Anno Domini, 1500."
Thus ran the Chronicle; and I own that
t was with wonder, and with awe, even that
finished its perusal. Further the marveldus
mystery is unknown to me?all is darkless?all
is shrouded in as deep a shadow as
he forest-embowered Castle Grymme!
Columbia, S. C.
Wine at Two Millions a IJpttle.?
Ve had almost believed that the types had
nnexed a few straggling ciphers to the atove
figures, but on perusing the entire aricle
which we find in a late number of the
Courier des Etats Unis, under the above
laption, we find it is "a fixed fact" that there
s such a costly beverage in the' world as
wine at S2,000,000 a bottle, and, what is
>etter, that there is more of the same sort
eft." The said article discourseth somewhat
in this wise : Among the rare luxuries
if rich Germany which graced the table of
he King of Wurtemburg on the occasion of
he meeting of his two imperial guests, one
night see figuring conspicuously the celeirated
wine of Rosenwein, of which the free
jity of Bremen is so justly proud. The
mrgomasters alone of this city are privileged
to appropriate a few bottles for private
lse, or to present a sovereign or reigning
jrince. The history of this wine, whioh is
worth to-day 11,000,000 francs?there is no
iypographioal mi^ake here?possesses all
he marvellousness of a legend, and is brief
y as folTows : The cellar of .Bremen is the
nost aDcient of all the cellars of Germany,
[t is situated under the Hotel de Ville. One
if its apartments, called the rose, from a
las-relief in bronze representing roses, and
serving the donble purpose of an ornament
ind guide, contains the famous wine of Rosenwein,
deposited there nearly two centu ies
and a half. In 1624 there were placed
n this cellar six large oases of Rhenish
svine, called Johannisberger, 8chloss Johanaisburg,
the ancient abbey now belonging to
;he family of Metternich,) and the same
lumber of cases named Hocheimer. The
idjoining part of the cellar also store wines
if the same description, now less costly, although
not so old by a few years. They
*e*e contained in twelve largecases, each
one of which bore the name of one of the
; twelve Apostles; and the wine of Judas,
! despite the reprobation attached to its name,"
t is to this day more highly esteemed than all
the others. In other parts of the cellar are
to be found different wines of later years.?
Whenever a bottle of the Rosenweinis taken
out, it is replaced by the wine of. the twelve
Apostles?the latter by a younger wine, and
so on with the others; so that, unlike the
vessel of the Danaides, the sacred cases are
never, empty.
Now for the price: One large case of the
wine, containing 5 ozhoft of 204 bottles,
cost 500 rix dollars in 1624. Including the
expenses of keeping up the cellar) and of
the contributions, interest of the .amounts*
and interests upon interests, an ozhoft costs
at the present tiuio 555,657,640. rix dollars,,
and consequently a bottle is worth 2,723,812
rix dollars; a glass, or the eighth part of a
bottle, is worth 340,476 rix dollars?(about
1,361,904 francs, or $272,380; or at the
rate of 640 rix dollars, or 1,362 francs, or
$272 per drop.) A burgomaster of Bremen
is privileged to have one bottle whenever he
entertains a distinguished guest who enjoys
a German or European reputation.
During the French occupation, some of
the generals of the Empire were allowed a
considerable quantity of this precious liquor.
Hence the Bremenese believe that their city
paid a larger contribution to France than all
the other cities of Germany united.
Washington Union.
JlisrtUanams Rafting
SENATOR DOUGLAS.
BY AN OPPOSITION PAPER.
The following sketch of Hon. Stephen A.;
TImMmIah V?*t tVl a All A^ A TinrtAV V? A AT A TV
JL/uugiaa, ujr buu cuiwi ui u vuc xiurrberryport
(Massachusetts) Herald, is graphic
and amusing. According to "our policy of
giving every shade of opinion a fair hearing,
we let this writer speak for himself. It appears
that he was a passenger with Judge
Douglas on a trip in the cars from St. Louis
to Chicago, at the close of th$ celebration of
the opening of the Ohio aod Mississippi
Railroad, in June last.
That little man, with a big, round.head,
a brow almost as broad as Webster's, and a
quick, active eye, that rolls under the heavy
projecting brow, watching every other man,
and not allowing a motion to escape him?
with arms too short for his body, which is
full and round as though it never lacked the
juices that supply life; and with small duck
legs, which, had they grown as thiok as his
back-bone, (and they would, probablyp if
Providence had not foreseen that he would
want back-bone more than leg? in his battle
of life,) would have madeiiim of respectable
stature; that little man is no less than
the great politician of the West, who has attracted
more attention in the last four years
than any other man of the nation, and has
done more to give direction to public affairs
than even the President, with a million and
a half of voters at his back, and the army,
navy and treasurry of North America at his
command. It is the "Little Giant," Stephen
A. Douglas, with whom we parted com
pany at Vincennes, and who has slowly come
along, feeling the pnblic pulse to learn the
political health of the "Suckers," np to
Springfield, the Capital of the State. .
The means of success in Senator Douglas
are very apparent. First, he was really and
intellectually a great man. Eastern people
who view him only as a low politician,
should disabuse their minds in relation to
??
one who is to exerciso a wide influence in
tee affairs of the oonntry, and very probably
?for he is yet young?to be the head of
the Republic. He is massive in his conceptions,
broad and comprehensive in his views,
and in a good measure is endowed with all
those powers of mind that make a statesman.
... ..
But he is greater still in energy of character.
There are those who think that a defeat
of him next year would be*his death in
politics; but the man that sprung from a
cabinet-maker's shop m Vermont, and, without
father or friend,' worked his way to an
honorable place upon the bench of Judges ;
who entered. Illinois with less than fifty
oent3 in money and not one cent in credit,
nnd has acquired great wealth, and the
highest station and influence, is not easily
to be whipped out. But if he is great in
mind, and greater in energy, he is greatest
in those winning manners for which the
world calls him a demagogue. Scarcely a
man, woman or child, in the cars, escaped
his attention, or was passed by unspoken to.
At one moment he talks with the old, sternvisaged
politician, who has been soured by
a thousand defeats and disappointments; in
the next, to that well formed and genial
Kentuckian, who has just sought a free
State; now he sits down with the little girl
approaohing her teens, and asks of her school
studies; and he pats the little boy on the
head, and, in the presence of his fond mother
and proud father, (what father is not
proud to see his boy noticed ?) says a world
fthnnt fflk mild eves or elossv locks. Again, |
the lady is approached,with a fair word and
a bland smile, and goes home pleased to tell
her husband or fyher how he looks aDd
what he says, and then half a dozen are
about him, all standing together. He oan
talk religion with the priest as well as polities
with the statesman; he can congratulate
the newly appointed Bachanan office-holder,
who has supplanted his friend, tell the displaced
friend of the "good time ooming,"
when his wing shall be up; sad at every
station, more regularly than the conductor,
Mr. Douglas is upon the platform, with a
good-bye to the leaving, and a welcome to
the departing traveler?a shake of the hand
with one man that stands at the depot, and
a touch of the hat to another. He knows
everybody ; can tell the question that effects
eaoh locality ; call the name of every farmer
on the way; teHaU travellers something of
the homes they left that they never knew
f . '
' * '.t **... ~-y.. ? >
i -r' -
themselves, and suggest what they are ndap- *
ted for in this life, and what place jhej 89?
erve in heaven. Now, sueha ,-r,
in contract witli everybody, ltnowinge;ye^
body, and capable of pleasing everybody/ ^ '
and at the bottom wrapped up'with tategne V .
idea of preferment, power and domimbft' /... **
among men, is not easily to be put do*rB;jr
and his opponents might as well li>$Hc^~& ,
once, that when they fight him they fight a
maD, a-little giant indeed. He would. .bCt. ,,
popular in Boston or anywhere elsej?Hdfi*:Mr*
the "three thousand clergymen".
nounccd would have their hearts stolen ifbe.
could speak to them a half hour. '
~ : - -tiT' fSf*'
THE POWER OF
one whose attention has not been drawa ean
pecially to the subject, it will be surprising-""" .
to call tojnind how many of the moat Sublime
and comprehensive passages in the English
language consist wholly or chiefljtM^ '
monosyllables. Of tbe sixty-six words OjWgT *
prising the Lord's Prayer, forty-eight are of
one syllable. Of ^the seventeen words cqi*^
posing the Golden Rule, fifteen are of one
syllable. The most impressive idea of the
creative power of Jehovah is expressed entirely
inf monosyllables: u And G'od said,
Let there be light, and there was light."-?
<Jne of the most encoargiog promisee, or:tScripture
is expressed in fifteen words,
bntone of which are monosyllables: "^1
love them that love me, and thoee that StSW*' r
me early shaU find me." ' 1
Among human compositions severel^fe^ '2.
markable instances of the mme character
occur. Of twenty-six words in the following
verse, all but two are monosyllables "\ '
" My God, who makes the gnn to kn
Ilis proper hour to rise, ?
And to give light to all below .' ' _
Doth send him round the skies." ^
Few sentences in poetiy or prose, what-.
ever their length, contain so much doctriiiaF .. .
instruction, afford so much prdciouS consolation,
or inspire so much exulting hope, as the j.
following, in which all the words hut one
are* monosyllables: " ^ : ;r^<Y
" Jesns, my Godv I know bis name,v ;
His name is all my trust;
Nor will he put'my soul to shaine,?
Nor let my hope be lost." ,
^' *
Mabbied Life.?The followingbeautiful
and true sentiments are from the penJdfe
that oharming writer, Fredrika Bretuei?^ 1
whose observations might-well become rules * ?
of life,^ appropriate arefchey to umuyvof^
its phases:?"Deceive not -one another.w^ r-'
small things nor in great. Onedittle ieinglrA
lie has, before no*, disturbed a whole married
life, & small cause has often greet .
sequences. Fold not the arms togetiier^|E^?
sit idle. "Laziness is the devil's cushion."
Do not run much from, home. .- One's
hearth is of more worth than gold.M*n$,
a marriage, my frrends, begins like the rosy
morning, and then falls, away like a *d$Wkz
wreath. And why, my friends? Because
the married pair neglect to he as well plea#--. $
in" tn AAflh other after marriage aa before.
Endeavor always, my children, to please one , ^
another; bat at the same time keep God^i
yonr thoughts. Lavish not all your love to. ,
day, for remember that marriage has Uaterjj
morrow likewise, and its day after to-morroif#.!
too. Spare, as one may say, fuel for the
winter Consider,, my daughters,,what theword
wife.erpresses. The married4|Fbmaii
is the hashands's domestic feth; inherhand .
he must bo able to confide house and family;
be able to entrust to her the key of his heart,^ w
as well as the key of his eating room> His
honor and his home are under her.keeping
?his well-being-in her hand. Think of*
this ! And you sons, be faithful husbands,'
and good fathers of families. Aot so that
your ..wives shall esteem and love ypur^v, A
new Secret Order.?The PhiladfL *
phia Democracy have been much excited for
some time by the discovery that a secret
ganization exists among them, * \
is to control the convention^ nomination*. |
It is known in street parlance is "Molly Maguire,"
as it is said to be composed of Irijgfec
men, or the immediate sons of Irishiadlfct
who profess the Papal religion. It is.bound
by oaths, is strictly organized, with prasiflfny
and subordinate officers, pass-words, signs',
grips, degrees, eto. Such is the' influenoe'
of this secret order, that candidates for office
find it necessary to secure its favor in
order to make sure of their nomination.?
Some of the Democrats are indignant, wnd
talk of calling a convention of true Democrats
to orusE out the "Molly Maguires,"
who are looked upon as a kind of foreign
"know nothing" order. But if rumor tells
the truth, this order is not confined to Philadelphia.
It is alleged to have originated
in Boston, and extended thencetoNew York
and all the principal oitiea of the Union.
A Hunting Editor.?Our Western *
Exohanges are making men; over the foU ^
lowing anecdote of an editor, who wearied
of city life, went on a hunting excursion in
the country.
"A city editor being in the country deer
shooting, was too frighted toihotit at a book,
as he went by. The huntsman came up and >
asked him why he did not shoot? His lips
trembled as he replied, "I saw nothing butr >
the devil go by with an arm chair'on his
head, and his handkerchief sticking out bev
hind." ~ >?
' ' 1 1 * ' :?
? ? ?. v r.. r
THE JPOOR JJOY.?AKJni pe asnamea, mj
good lad, if you have a patch on your elbow.
It is no mark of disgrace. It speaks well
for your industrious mother. For oar port,
we woald rather see a dozen patches on your
jacket than hear one profane or vulgar word
escape from your lips, or smell the, fames of
tobacco in your breath. No good boy wQl
shun you because you cannot drees ?s weQ
as your companions; and if a bad boy some:
times laughs atyeur appearance, say nothing *
my good, lad, bat walk on. We know many
a rich and good man Who was anoe as poor
as yon. Fear God, mj hoy, and if yon are
poor, but honest, yon will be respected?a
great deal more than if you were the son of
a rich man, and were addicted to bad habits
Jbr" ' ; j ,t ? ';>