The Camden weekly journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1853-1861, July 04, 1854, Image 1
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THE CAMDEN WEEKLY JOURNAL.
VOLUME XV. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, TUESDAYMORNING NUMBER 27.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY
THOMAS J. WARREN.
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ftUfffpflnttrvrmr'
V*4i3lUUUUUU^.
From the Spirit of the Age.
HORACE WEST:
OR,
The effects of "one and tde first glass."
In a pleasant part of the good citv of B ,
in the State of M , is situated a small
wooden building, and from the handsome sign
painted on a white ground in lar{.e, black letters,
a passer by would suppose it to lie a car
penter's shop, which indeed it is. .
On a pleasant day in the month of June there
might have been seen in the interior of this
shop at work at different benches several men.
one of whom we have to deal with more particularly
than the others, and whom for want
of a better name we will call Horace West.
From his appearance ? tie would suppose him
to be about the age of twenty-five years, he is
of the medium height, has a fine, handsome,
intelligent and manly countenance, and is dressed
in a suit of genteel working clothes, in
which not a patch or tear is to he found ; he
seems to be intent upon his wot k. und Ibr a
while we will leave hint so, and cull the attention
of the reader to another building, destined
to figure some little in this narrative. On the
opposite side of the street in which the shop
alluded t<? above is situated, and hut a short
distance off, stands a small drinking estahli-'.
ment. more vulgarly and aimromiaielv called a
grog -hop. The landlord of this place is one
of that class of men usually called economists,
hut who are in reality, mean, stingy and close
fisted, and as is generally the case with such
men, cares not how much the families ami
friends of his customers suffer, so that he bu?
gets for an equivalent to the poison poured
down their throats, their hard earned money;
if indeed it is hard-earned, which is not always
the case, but it does not matter with him howit
is earned so that he gets it from them. This .
house is generally resorted to by the lowest
cla^s of people, as well as confirmed drunkard-, j
and there is continually in his employ a cer
i? u.
laui uuuujci ui iiicii w iiunr iiu^hic^o m o i?? j
get persons to visit there with thvni. and in-n ,
who have never entered a place of the kind. .
and who really detest the landloid of tlii< place,
whose nam? is Munsoii, are sonietiities eniired |
to go there with the ostensihle object of get ,
ting perhaps a dinner, and with the promise ,
flmt tho luii/tlm-ft kIixII Ii:iI'p mi ill turci ill rui vvifli I
them, while there; when they aie once g"t |
ten there the work of seducing them from the s
path of temperance is completed in a scientific ,
manner by the landlord and his emissaries, and (
the downfall and ruin of those too-erring men .
inen~ accomplished in the end. In short tlii- ,
place hears the significant title of the " Devil's
Den" and is just such a place, exclusive of the |
fire and orimstone, as his Satanic Majesty may |
be supposed to inhabit.
Having now drawn the attention of the j
reader to this hell on earth, we will return to |
our friend, whom we left industriously at work j
in the carpenters shop near by. We find him x
as we left him?and while he is engaged at j
work, one of the men to whom we have before j
alluded approaches him an enquires the time ^
of day. After looking at his watch he politely c
answers?
" It is now five minutes past twelve."
" Time for roe to go and get my julep, J
then," is said in answer, a thing which he was j
in the habit of doing every day. " Come,
walk over to Munsori's and take one wiih me,
dinner time will not lie long coming now, and
it will whet your appetite so that yon will en- {
joj-jou- nu^l umch the better." ,.r
11 am obliged to yo?. ivpne.-?--. v
* but you are aware that I never indulge m any f
thing of the 8<?n.1
So J am West, hut F want to enjoy the
pleasure of drinking with you, and-besides tine (
glass will not hurt you ; why, I take my morn- s
ing, noon and evening glass, regularly every *
day, and sometimes an intermediate one mere- ^
Jy to oblige a friend ; you see that does not af- .
feet me, so come along.'
No,' firmly answered his companion, 'though
it may do me no harm to take one glass, it will
(to take more.'
Meaning by that, I suppose,' returned Tom
as he was called by West?'that you can't
iake a glass now and then without becoming a
drunkard. I thought you had more command
..?.,,colf muu. or. niav be that pretty wile
-UVCI J UUiev.. ... ^
of yours has made you swear out agr.iust an
occasional glass.'
4 No' answered West, 4 though for her sake,
I still decline going with jou?aid anothei
feason is that Munson is a tuaif wi.om I do not
like; 1 have no acquaintance with him and can
not say why I do not like him, hut theie i*
something in his countenance that deters m
from seeking his acquaintance.'
4 Well if that was all the objection you had
to going with me { should not find ii a ver\
6eriuus one, and could soon remove it, for then
is another place not far from here, where ?< 1
can go to; so come along if you are going
for 1 am losing time in standing here arguing
the case with you' replied Torn.
4 No, I cannot go,' said Wesf^^^
4 Well if you are determined ^^^Pgo wifl
me, I must go alone I suppose,' returned tin
companion and friend of West,
Saying which he turned away from theyoun<
man, and left the shop with hasty steps for tl?
public bouse near by.
As soon as he left the shop the yonng ma:
began to ponder over the invitation he had n
ceived, to take a glass with his friend. H?
began to think that one glass taken occasional.
ly would not.do him any harm, but that on the
contrary a cool niintjuh-p on such u warm
day as that was, would serve to revive exhausted
nature, a id enable him to work more vigorously
after it. Then again he would think that
if he erred from the straight paths of virtue
and morality in that * one glass.' for up to that
time he had been strictly temperate, that, th.e
consequences might be awful to contemplate,
and his mind shuddered us the thought passed
before it. He had, before his apprenticeship
was finished, formed an acquaintance with a
young man about bis own aye, who had been
enticed from the way of sobriety by one whom
he considered a friend ; he had indulged in
that 'one, and first glus>' thinking that it would
Hn liim mi h.'irm* lint tlmt nriA olii^s was flip
"
cause of liis ruin. He was a fellow apprentice
of West, and as in duty bound served out >
bis time, taking good care however to conceal
from his master hi* daily and nightly visits to
the taverns of the City; his room mate and
bed fellow young West was the only person
that was acquainted with his habits, which h:,
I eheld with soirow growing on him, and tried
by repeated conversations to turn him away
font the evil path in which he was walking;
but it was of no avail he still persisted in his j
downward career, and when he attained his !
majority had become a habitual diinker. His j
former master took him into his employ and J
gave him regular wages, whieli were all spent j
at the taverns and public houses, but did not;
discover his had habits until he became more '
open in them, and frequently Uf his work to
repair to some l'?w drinking establishment, to j
quench his thirst for liquor; then and not till !
then did he discover the evil \va\sof his form
er apprentice. He endeavored to reform him,
hut in vain, and was at last constrained to dis
charge hint from his employ in consequence of!
the maimer in which his own interests were
neglected. From that time h" went on in the
way to drunkenness and degradation faster
than ever, and the last lime that West had seen
him lie was reeling Iroiu the door of some lowgrog
shop. The image of that young man as
lie was when first he knew him flitted before
his mird; he. thought of the strictly sober,
m <inl and upright character which he bore at
that time, and shuddered to think of him as
he was then, a diunken vagabond an outcast
from friends ami society.
He kneA that such might he the consequences
in his ca>e, it lie drunk that 'one glass,' but
could not help thinking that he had too much
command over himself to allow himself to he
ed off'in such a manner by ju t taking one
glass occasionally Thus his thoughts were
engaged until the return of his companion whom
he no sooner saw enter the shop, smiling and
smacking his lips at the thought of the beverage
ulurh he had just drank, than he resolved
if attain invited, to go and pat take with him,
ind to lake a drink now and 'lien; knowing,as j
lie thought that he could command his appe- '
Lite sutii<-iemly to keep from becoming a druukurd.
On the next day We^t was again invited by I
his companion to go and drink with him. He
Jul not immediately consent or decline, and
when his ftiend noticed that he was wavering '
tod debating in his mind whether or not ro go,
.. _ 1.1...I i.:. ?. ?J r... o i
jtr iruimuii;'! iu> 6?uii:iiiilii)US, illlU II11>111V per- j
iti ided him 10 step a>ide from the straight path
n which lie had hitherto walked. This was the '
hst in-tance in which he had done so: how k
t t
serious the consequences were the sequel will
jliow.
Days, weeks and even months went by. and 1
Vom the dm that West had taken his first glass, (
le was un.-ihle to restrain his thirst for liquor, "
ind had been a regular visitor to the neighbor- 1
ug puhlie houses; Munsoti's only excepted.?
le still worked steadily, however, not neglect- 1
ng the best interests of bis employer, but it 1
vas plain to a close observer, that the change 1
n him hail been great, that from tlie steady, 11
iidustrious and temperate mechanic that he had *
iceii, lie was fa>t changing to a confirmed in "
'briate. v
Hitherto his nights had been regularly spent x
it home, in Company with his wile and child, 1
>ut he now longed for the vile company which 1
le had been accustomed to see at the taverns. Sl
illicit he was in the habit of frequenting, and x
nily wanted an invitation from some one in 8
irder to make up his mind to associate with ^
hem. s
ias approached one in comi g; he 8
riend who had enticed him off, a^rk^by the v
is follows:
'West, my fine fellow,' said he, 'there is to j
>e a jolly good company at Munson's tonight, .
ieveial fel ows with whom you are acquainted ^
vill he there according to promise, and what is
eaiitiiiir to make us spend a pleasant evening,
p .
s in your power to supply. I mean your very
tgreeable company.'
'Indeed,' replied West.
'Yes,' answered his companion, '1 was in- 1
<1 runted to invite you to come, wh'H) you must
t>e sure to do, the company assembles at 7 o'clock;
I shall expect you.'
'I should he glad to come, Tom,' relumed
West, 'if it was any where else, but you know
the objection 1 have to going to Munson's. I
had rather not vi*it at his house.
'Mmiiri'mso. man. you wrong Munson, he is a
perfect gentleman every inch of liiin, you have
prejudiced yourself against him unjustly, ifyou
will come around I will introduce you to him,
and take my word lor it, before you have been
in his company one hour, you will acknowledge
that you have formed a wrong opinion of the
man. Will you come?'
'I don't know,1 answered West, 'I think it
Aould he wrong in me to leave my family for
the company of a matt whom I do not lik.a*1'Why,
man,' replied his companion, 'you
have no idea what a fine time voii will spend. I
vVe are to have a supper of everything the
louse can afford, and after the supper is over,
iiqnors of every variety will he furnished, toasts
Irauk and speeches made, and it will be the
nost pleasant evening that you have spent for
i long time. Will you come around?'
I don't know, I'll think about it/
Well, if vou conclude to come, we will he
lad to see you; and as for your dislike to Muu
on, let that be the least objection you have,
I'll soon remove that. Or if you prefer it you
ueed not see Munson, we will have a room to
v > # y . *
I ourselves hut I would like you to see him. and
conquer that prejudice you have against him,
and if you form his acquaintance you will be
sure to do it, and very soon at that,' returned
the companion of West.
Thus saying the two separated. No other
conversation pas-ed between them during the
balance of tht day in regard to the supper at
Muusoii's on that night. When the day had
drawn nearly to a close and night about to set
in, West started for home, thinking on the way
of the party to which lie had been invited. He
i rnoolio/l liio kniicij U'liioli u<nc L.itn*itorj in ?i irartt
! respectable part of the city, and entered. lie
I was met at the door by his smiling and happy
j wife, who placed her arm in his and accompa
itied him to the tea-table, which had been awaiting
his arrival. They sat down to their
evening meal, and while they are. thus engaged,
we will gratify our curiosity by looking around
the room and noticing the. things therein.
The room in which they sat was of a good
size and was nicely furnished with a table, safe,
chairs and the usual articles found in such places;
the fire burned brightly in the grate, (for
it was iiow in the winter) and the brightly polished
fire apparatus aiid the neat and clean appearance
of everything around, bespoke the
care and neatness with which Mrs. West presided
over her household. But see our friend
West has finished his meal and is rising from
ll e table; he takes a seat hv the fire, whilst his
wife attends to the removal of the things from
the table. He sits silently for a while, and
seems to be thinking of some important matter,
his countenance looks troubled, and he now
ainJ then glances from the fire into which he
gazes, to his wife as she moves about tbe rootn
attending to the hous* borne duties, and we no
lino f li>># ii'lioii Ka <ilu ititAo IcAiV\ Inn' Ia tlin fi cn
again, his face looks still more troubled as if his
thoughts were connected with her. Perhaps
lie is thinking of the party ?t Munson's Tavern
and dibating in his mind as to the propriety of
leaving the wife of his bosom alone, in order to
associate with men, such as he would meet at
the tavern ?his mind evidently wavers; and
thus lie sits for some time. His thirst for alcohoi
conquers at last, and lie rises and looks at
his watch and finding that it is near the time
specified by his fiend, he says to his wife that
he believes lie will step out a little while and
return in a short time: his wife seems suiprised,
as it is seld<>in the case that he leaves her
at night, and asks him if lie is call-d out of necessity.
He looks confused and does not auswer
directly but evades the question hy saying
that he will not be gone long, and kissing
her affectionately, leaves the house.
He turns his 6teps towards the public house
of Munson, which he soon reaches, and form
Mutely meeting his friend Jones (whom we have ,
dignified with the appellation of Totu) on the ,
steps o( the house, entered in company with ,
him. The first cure of Jones after entering the (
house was to oh ain the consent of West tojje ,
introduced to Munson, which lie did alter much ,
persui'sion, and then to seek out Muns"n and
perform the ceremony of introduction, and afterwards
to introduce him to those of the coin
pany assembled with whom he was unacqnain- j
ted. The whole party then proceeded to the (
supper room where a table was spread out and
loaded with all the delicacies of the season,
.'asked in the most iftagnificent and fashionable j
styles. They were soon engaged in discussing j
he vurious qua).ties of the viands before lliern, ?
loing which we will leave them for a short j
ime, w hile we return to one of the characters t
(four story, who has hitherto occupied but a f
iinall portion of our space. We mean the wife s
>f our hero. c
Mary Vinton was the only daughter of poor, i
?ut honest ami respectable parents. Her fa- c
her was an industrious mechanic; his trade a
vas that of a shoemaker, and it was as much [
s he was able to do to support his family by f
be sweat of bis brow. Horace West first met v
dary at tlie hou-e of one of bis friends, who s
vas also intimate with the family of Mary, u
vhere they were attending a party to which v
bey bad been invited. He was struck with 0
he beauty of person and simplicity of manner, c
nd knowing that her family was humble as
cell as bis own, he immediately determined to E
e?-k her acquaintance, and if he found her J,
[nalities of mind as good as those of her per- ti
on, to select her as the one whom he thought t
uitable to be bis partner through life, in other ?
cords to make her bis wife, wheif he became j?
f age, for be was then in his nineteenth year, |,
r tM?-*hi?uld be so fortunate as to win her affec- ti
je .,genCy nf a female friend 0
ntelligent convert, her. and from the i?
? was m?re thai. ev?"5SS- ile h
leouaintance was kepi up unto . .. '
"1
suitable opportunity to pour into her par tlD j ti
ale of love which truehearled lovers alocH^
know how to tell, and declare to her his mtcnti<^P
r?f making her his wife, if she were willing, IH
some future time when he felt himself able
do so, which he did, and was made happy hy^H
fervent declaration of her own love for him,
return. Time passed on, and young West
came of a legal age, and was immediately
ken into the employ of his former master
the most liberal wages. A day or two aftt^l
he attained his majority he waited upon the fuH
rents of his affianced bride in order to nbtaiH
'n.,ir >,it to wed their daughter. TheM
having inquired into the character of our her<B
and finding him to be a strictly moral and irS
dustrious young man, readily gave their coiH
sent; lie then visited the daughter, and had tffl
time for their nuptials fixed at a day a slioH
period off. That day soon arrived,and the tuM
were united in the holy bonds of wedlock;
ter the honeymoon had passed they commenH
ed housekeeping in a sttle suited to their cP
cum stances in life, West having managed to j
save a part of his earnings for that purpose,
and at the time our story opened they had been
married a little over twelve months, and their
union bad been blessed with one child. Up to
that time they had lived as happily as could be,
West continuing industrious and strictly temperate.
The reader has seen how he stepped
aside from the paths of truth, virtue and tern
perance, we will now hasten to show the consequences,
and for that purpose we beg the
reader to accompany us to the lAvern at which
we left our friends, the moderate drinkers.
(concluded next week.)
An Incident of Commodore Tucker
Among the heroes of the great revolutionary
struggle of our country there were many brave
hearts who have long sunk to rest, not "will
all their country's honor blest," but in obscuri
ty and neglect. Suiely, it is the duty of histo
ry. as far as possible, to embalm their memorj
upon its pages, and to give it in living colors t<
posteiitv. Commodore Samuel 1 in ker, whos
remains repose in on obscure retreat on th
rough coast of Maine, is a cose iti point. It w a
on a retired spot in that part of Bristol, nov
Bremen, bordering on Broad Cove, that h<
passed the latter pait of his days- It w as pro
bably ow ing to his seclusion from society, tha
this brave and distinguished officer has escape<
the notice of writers on our naval history. Fo
a man who had captured, under his individun
command, over 4,000 men, and 400 guns?th
individual selected by Washington, while f
Cambridge, as above all others, the best qnal
fied to convey to France our first agent,-and o
whose success depended the fate of the conntr
?that such a commander should have bee
unnoticed is a matter of surprise. His ordei
from Washington were to run from evervthin
and land Mr. Aduins safe in France. The Boi
ton, a common merchant ship, was purchase
for this purpose, and was fitted up, under Tuck
er's dijection, as a sloop of war bearing twent
guns. A British seventy four, and two frigates
weie stationed at Newport, U. I., to intercep
him, having probably received notice from spies
of Tucker's expedition, and knowing as they
did that Washington was opening negotiations
with France, they were determined to intercep
all communication with that country. Tuck
er, well knowing the risk of his important en
terprise, on which depended the success of th<
Revolution, had additional sail made to the
Boston, and figging to accommodate, that in i
light wind she was literally covered with can
vas, and many of her sails, to use his own ex
pression, were never before nor since known t<
any vessel. We regret that the limits of
sketch w ill not admit of some interesting an^Hj
doles of this brave man, which are now in ^BE
writer's possession. lie was born at Marl^H
head, Massachusetts, November 15th, 1747^^n
b He entered ttie naval serviee at annul ei^^B
en years old, and was in the George, a twe^H
gun ship, cruising off Louishurg in search <^H
French transport frigate, at the time of Wul^Hj
death, Sept. 1759. 9HH
(hi his passage tn France in the Boston,
Tucker, l>y his knowledge of British sigi^Hj
and cust oms, and the distribution of their sl^H
of war on this coast, which he had learnet^^H
England when the revolution commeii^H
came up with a Biitish sloop of war ubout^^fl
own force, who was cruising in search of l^^|
and after the first fire she struck to him.
she was so near the English coast that she
retaken soon after. Tucker's escape from IH
three ships of war that came out of New|^^|
to cut him off. was a masterly manoeuvre,
was effected by a feint in running down
their best, sailer, which was coming up with
it a sufficient distance from the others to^^H
prehend that she must fight single handec^^B
I'liis induced iiini to tack ship, and night c^HH
ng on Tucker changed his course; and,
me of the most boisterous passages ever e^^H
ienced in crossing the Atlantic, he landed^^H
\dams safely in France. In one of these
icsts he encountered when near the coaHU
France, his uiizzenma-t was shivered to pi^^^H
md one man killed by lightning, a short
leforc his arrival. Hon. John Quincy Ada^HH
hen a lad, accompanied his father in this p^^H
mis vol age, and has been heard frequently
peak in terms of high commendation of th9P
! induct of Com. Tucker during their passage.
VIter l he evacuation of the city of Boston, he (
mptured seven ves^eis, some of them transports, .
md one thousand men destined for that place. t
During the siege of Charleston, he captured a t
ort, and blew it up witnin gunshot of Corn
vail is and his siege. But, as we have already (
tated, the limits of this sketch will not permit ?
is to recount more of his valiant deeds, in j
viiich he always displayed a warm and gener- |
>us heart, and a cool, calculating, inathemati- al
head. t
After the close of the war Tucker resided in j
losfo'n, and by his too generous feelings, and
mdinsr his name to others, lost an ample for- .
line. Stung with the ingratitude of his coun- |
ry, that never, paid him for a pait of hi* Rev- <
lutioimry services, and finding those who en- |
>yed his bounties, and profited by his benevo j
;nee during the noontide of his prosperity,
j* i *! ill ? _ J J?/i?
urning trout mm witti coiu neariea inainerence t
n the eve of his misfortune, he became dis (
usted with the world, and his proud and lofty t
pirit sought that retirement that now marks f
Lie solitude of his humble grave. c
! /- - , P n r r.v * r (J V' P T W I) I ) ^ J ! *
Vim, miro jr.jui - ^
"No; but she does u precious sight worse t
though.' I
'What is that?* ,i
'Why, she washes me every morning.' *j
"Pal see a man laying drunk down at ' (
market house." *
"You shouldn't say laying my son ?\e <
lay 1" i J
,M ?
'But I've Been men lay too I is
"O no, my *on." #
"Yes but I have seen 'em lay brick !
"Go and split your kindling; I can't tal
you now."
,0 i
. I
Principalities. ,
tu- r??.*..t.:?? r>.:..?:?..i:?:..., i.-?? ,1
X lie lyiUIUlMUU 1 I 111VJI |.'c* 111 I CTo llttvc CIIJUJ CU
'or already more than a year the privilege of |
itlracting the general and close attention of
.he political world.and now in compliance with f
he request of two or three correspondents, we t
impose to give a little geographical informa- (
ion concerning them. These parts of the
rurkish Empire consist of the region inclosed
letween the Danube and the river Proth, which
atter forms the frontier between Russia and (
L\ii key. On the north the Principalities are
jounded by Russia or its province of Be<sara)ia
; on the north west by Hungary and Trnnlylvaniti;
on the east, by Bessarabia and the j
sountry called the Dohrodja; on the south by n
Bulgaria. The Principalities form two distinct
States; the greater, richer and better situated, ^
s called Wulluciiia, and extends along the
Danube; the other, which is noith of Walla- j,
ihia, is culled Moldavia. Bucharest, id the enpi- t(
al of the first, Yassy of the second. The area ^
>f both amounts t<? between eight and nine {|
housand square miles. The population is
ihout four millions, consisting of descendants
>1" the ancient Dacians, Roman Colonists, Sla- f(
^nians, Cumanians, etc., and their language is ()
Imposed of all these tongues, with, however,
strong prevalence of corrupt Latin. After
i* n i 41
Ie invasion 01 ijurope uy uie i ui&a, uioc
ibes sometimes fought against the invaders, *
gether with the Serbs, the Bulgarians, the
ungarians, and the Poles, and long tried to 1
inintaiii their independence. To secure this,
leir chiefs, called by the Slavonic title of .
lospndar, or master, in the 15th and 16th
itituries, recognized the supremacy of P? 8<
md, and subsequently united themselves with
ie Magyars and Transylvanians. About the J*
id of the sixteenth century, they were finally
bliged to submit wholly to the Porte, and to
e governed absolutely by Hospodara and rt
luimiikans, receiving their appointment and
ivestiture from the Sultan. After the war of '
828-29, Russia then victorious, regulated the '
Lu.ii.An ,.f ?I?n PiMiw.uiallriAB on.I linrl^n Koi- tl
lU^IUWll *M lilt a iiiivi^niuivoi inn* unuvi iivi
lireotinn there was introduced alki.id of repre- r
entative government. The Hoxpodars were f
o recognize the supremacy of the Sultan, and c
iay him a tribute, and this position was guar- v
mteed them by n treaty between Russia and
1'uikey, by which Russia acquired the right to f
iccupy the Principalities in case of exigency, t
vith no more than 35,000 troops. Russia c
jontends that the entrance of her forces last
>-ear. by which the pr cent war was begun, was r
limply an occupation under this treaty. The j
ippellatinn of Principalities is a translation ni
:hat of Hospodarslwu, by which they are called
in the native tongue.
If you wish for care, perplexity and misery, j
be selfish in all things. ,
V
?
Beards or no Beards.
A correspondent of the Lcndon Daily News
writing under the signature of 44 A Working
Man," has the following admirable observe*
lions on this subject:?
44As the above movement appears to be engrossing
some of the public attention, I trust
fou will not consider the following nbservaions
in relation to the growth of the hair on
ihe face unworthy of your notice.
44 Each hair is furnished with a distinct
g'and, elaborately and distinctly complete.?
Jnder the facial hair are innumerable nerves,
mmediately connected with the various organs
of the senses; ramifying in every dir?c>
ion, and performing the most important funcions.
This hair, when in full growth, forma a
latural protector to the nerves, and also holds,
?s it were, in suspension, a quantity of warm
lir through whit h the cold air in breathing
passes, and so becoming ratified or attemoer.
ttd, enters the lungs without giving to their delicate
texture?that severe shbck which arises
from the sudden admission of cold, so often
the forerunnerof fatal disorders, (anyone putting
his fingers under the hair of his head will
eel the warm air.) The hair also wards off
he east winds, a prolific source of toothache
ind other pains, and so tends to preserve those
iseful and ornamental appendages, the teeth.
"It is said that intimate connexion exists beween
the moustache and the nerves of the
)ye, i?nd that many diseases of the eye are
rnceahle to shaving. Who has not-/hit bis
yes smart under the application of a dull rscurt
"May not shaving, by depriving the lunga
>f the male of their natural protection, and exxising
them to the uninterrupted action of
old air, tend to weaken the chest, and that
veakness being transmitted in.an increasing
irnrinrtinn ftnm tranocotiAn fh WonnsotiAh
? VIII gvuvi Ul IVII W gVIIVI UVIVU| ?V
length induce-consumption or consumptive tec*
leney ? ^
"Persons who wear their hair under their
thins, do not, except in rare cases, suffer from
iore throats.
'There is in thecrypt of Hythe Church a vast
lile of bones, which were gathered many yean
ifter a battle fought on the sea-sbore, between
he Danes and Saxons, about one thousand
'ears since, and amongst them are skulls of
ged warriors,, finely developed, the teeth in
nany of which are so perfect, so beautifully
ootid, and so firmly imbedded in their sockts,
that you cannot move them. The owner#
if these teeth wore beards, and the writer renembered
witnessing, several years ago, some
.4! * *L. !*. -/ iL. - I J -A
xcavauons on ine sue 01 me oiu priory si
Spalding, when many stone coffins were dag
mt, whose inmates had, almost without excepion,
sound, entire, and elegant sets -of teeth.
)id not heard grow on their chins?
'Shaving occupies, on an average, fifteen
linutes. A man who shaves every morning
r fifty years, thas employs in that time upwards
of 380 days, of 12 hours each. Is this
proofitabie application of our fleeting mo*
MMltS ?
'The face, exposed to a microscope immeditely
after shaving, presents a most unsightly
ppearance, the stumps assuming the forms of
larrow bones sawn transversely
'Do not the teachers of the faculty approve '
f moustaches??and are they not of opinion
iat tiiey play a most important part in the anna
1 economy ?
' 'Is it not probable that, by unduly stimulainc
the growth of hair by shaving, we draw
do largely on, and so cause an unnatural acion
of the nerves, producingan injurious effect
no matter how slight) on the brain?
'Did not the patriarchs and sages of old wear
ie?rds, and were they not remarkable for Ion;evi
y, as well as for being exceedingly fine-#
ooking fellows?
'Is lint shaving a bore ??and does not a
nan whilst undergoing the operation, look exremely
ridiculous? And if it is right to rasp
ne chin, why not the eyebrows and the head
t
'Does it'not appear foolish to shave, on a
sold morning, thac which nature has provided
0 protect u* against the cold ?
"Do we not at once despise and hold too
beaply a benefieient arrangement, and infringe
1 natural law, when we cut off what Prorilence
says so plainly shall grow, for more a-nan
shaves the more the hair grows even to
li?/hoitr of death? The head shall become
-aid, but the face never.
"In conclusion, when man was created he
ad given to him a beard, and who will dare
n say that it was not a good giflt* Tarn to
le first chapter of Genesis, and will find
nat God saw everything that he had made,
nd behold it was very good.
' I could not go on almost indefinitely; bat
ir fear of being considered too prosy. 1 will
nly ask; Are we justified in shavingf* "Is
a man and wife both one ?" asked the
rife of a certain gentleman in a state of stupe*
iction as she was holding his aching head iff
oth hands.
'Yes,' I suppose so was the reply..
'Well,' then, said she, 'I come home drank
1st night, and ought to be ashmed of myelf/
This back handed rebuke, from a long aufjring
but affectionate, wife, effectually cored
im from his drinking propensity.
V A knnnt fitl TotVOSI ltonrlfi/1
1 E. IVOUil Alii rt, ucauiiaui h?wmmvw
party in Philadelphia, where she was exceed*
ugly annoyed by a vulgar, impertinent fellow.
And you nover eat pork, Miss M. 1' asked he,
amitiiigly. 'Nor use lard lamps!' continued
be perseeut' r 'No, sir,' sue answered, -nor
ellgion teaclies us to avoid everything swinish
.hyskally and moral; therefore you will Textile
me for declining to have any more words
vith yon.'
It if common to speak of those whom ft
lirt has jilted, as her victims. This is s grave
rror, her real victim is the man whom she ac*
epts.
What is Aristocracy ??In reply to thia
(uestion, Gen. Foy, a distinguished orator in
he French Chambers, gave the following an*
swer: '^.ristocracy in the 19th century, is the
eague, the condition of those who would con* <ume
without working, know without learning
ny thing carry all honors withont deserving
hem and occupying all the plaees of goverfr
meat without being able to fill them."