The Texan Mercury. (Seguin, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 15, Ed. 1 Saturday, December 31, 1853 Page: 1 of 4
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RIETOR.
SE&UHÍ, GUADALUPE COUNTY, DECEMBER 31, 1853.
¿pi
OXE^SCM
VOLUME
m M
? 3p
at least
Z&fOj ■ v
•^?£j
l the religion of the world,
force, ytthoát power, without
. *<
I'
:*;V-
and, in
' - • v ""
agreeing under this variety, as to
show that the accounts had one real transaction
for their common foundation; often attributing
different actions anddiseOTirsesto the person
whose history, or rather memoirs of whose his-
tory, taey profess to reiste, yet actions and dis-
courses so similar, as very much to bespeak the
same Character; which is a .coincidence, that, in
such writers aa they were, could only be the
consequence of their writihgfrgtt fact, and not
from imagination.
The Cotjmje.—There was a laboring man,
whobnilt.á cottage for himself and wife. A
dark gray rock overhung it and helped tO keep
it from the winds.
When the cottage was finished, he thought he
would paint gray like the rode. And so exactly
did he get the same shades of color, that it
looked almost as if the little dwelling sprang from
the bosom of the rock,that sheltered it.
After a while, the cottager became able to
* ' a cow. In the summer she picked up
r,w
toot: ,
upon liver of toil and haid-
i of their danger,
extremities of
. ; ;i
m* -m
'■ si
These four n4$ratíTeS
tory of the Founder óf the
with bis ministry. Since,
jtba*.tbe aflair went .on, we can
anxious J© know how it
comedown
by
ta the his- most of her own"Hvjng very well. But in the*
winter die needed to be fed and kept from the
eójd.
So he.hnilt a bam for her. It -was so ama&
that it looked'more like a shed than a born,
. and comfortable.
•• ' a neighbor came in, and
intelli-
pufo*
taking thestory
oríes had left it, carrying on the narrative,
oftentimes With great particularity, and through-
or wiH yon paint your bain?"
out with the
t of good sense,* inform-
<*b*.tfntb'<*
body of
historical
the a&oant,
ion of testimony which
original letters, Written
subject of tha
to which the
iod, or soOn
comprise*
is . not a
•-rtrWey.
4 See Acts, til, 18; xy} jntfi, ; txrL
A Show. Patent
PWÍat
I had not thought abotit that,7*¡foid the
cottager¿fe|
I advise yottbyail means to paiu^ it
_ 5 is a pot of black paint which I
J t, oñ purpose to give you."
íighhor, coming in, praisedhis
v ¿bed ax id expressed a wish to help him a
little about his building. " White is by "far the
most genteel coloi," he added, " and here is a
pot of white paint, of which I will make you a
THE DEATH 0^ COLONEL CROCKETT.
[from the crockett PHIXTEB.]
? Heard ye that sigh, with melancholy tale.
Borne mournfully on by evening's fitful gale 1
Like some lone whisper from the silent tomb,
Shrouding a nation with its sad'ening gloom,
It comes from Texas, like a dying knell,
Where gloriously the immortal Crockett fell.
Like some tall giant on the field of blood,
Undaunted 'mongst the gallant slain he stood;
He-knew no fear 'mid danger's darkful storm;
He boldly, proudly, reared his warrior form:
His canse, the cause of freedom and the free;
His glorious watch-word, " Death or Liberty."
Sleep, mighty warrisr, in thy tombless bed.
The bravest hero, of the valiant dead;
Thy name is cherished in a nation's pride, >
Whose tears for thy sad fate can ne'er be dried r
Sdine sculptured marble yet shall rise, and tell
How Crockett and his brave companions felL
Freedom shall light her torch aronnd thy tomb,
And freemen write the story of thy doom;
are cer-
thoGo*
i * "
ana wjsu every sec vim
(and we bave letters
wr, W* «*f
of the tnth of the
^¿ detail of the
(for such there
y upon which this
for which
tbey did act and
to
fbtmtr
; in ac-
by
m the fundamental Darts
of these
at share fa it, and other writings
successkjh,) con-
facts in this ma
the greatest
«tionábly
at this time. Some ae-
of Us origiik ; some capse
accoonts o^ this
is cause, whether
,early fdlowcro
I which perhaps
theydtouldbe
occasional notices
or the adjoining age,
facts above staled as
• ^ 'T-.
in a nwjÜtff which
of^Aese facts being
their operation and
: / . . ' .i"
alone lay a foundation for' ¡
prove ¿e wlstence c|"{a
IHow solvelws is
JHowtendértzS
'.How loving
> fHow
-Ify hearers—Sure enough,; how solveless is
*amaiit' She is an unguessable riddle—a most
intricate «%¿aa, a flower whfch^by analysing,
na one can tell to a certainty whether it be
póisonons or innoxious—not always. She has
with man from the beginning, and hec&asn't
her out jft. She ir popiparatively an
únexplwed country—an alphabet of hiero-
glyphics—a nu^netic mystery. Kobodyknows
what hwhMrt contains. Sometimes it seems
stuffed with love, tenderness and sympathy* and
at others fiBed with "nothing but writ and gravel,
tentioswff to shake her; jrou cause, the
and alkalies of her heart to come in con-
tact, and tóen such air effervescence talles place,
as might lower the ambition of pearltoh and
apdflow
ñ
y r
m&f-
fir
other ancient book
which widely dtstin-
otbers claiming a similar
we were any good
the names to which
(which there is not,
to any other, and
after their publiea-
the names which they now
antt^aity, of which títere is %io
and authority amongst
of the religion, of which there
in valid proof 4hst they must, in
faact, ham agreed with what .the
of the Jebgion deMvered.
we opea these ancient v^aaes, we dis>
truth, whether we con-
in itaelf, or collate them with one
The writers certainly knew something
they were writing about, for they man-
with local circumstances,
sad usages of the times, which
to an inhabitant of that
in that age. In every narrative
*«*d undesiguedness; the
of reality. < When we com-
Wm&m together, we find
varying as to jppeJ ali Suspicion of eon-
• a ' , i "
'kk s
of April, she is all
y a, tear-drq> evaporates in
of a smile, em . ii has a chance
a brightr smfle ia auddenly
quenched b^ a crinkle of some passing cloud of
8tze of a blanket.
Griefs "bubble up Iter bosom, to burst in the
atmosphere of joy, idee autnmnal flowers sprucing
from the warm bed of her heart, to lie cat fkHrn;
by the guddenfroet of grief. *
is woman! She is made of modeity,
beauty, aBks and sStfnS, jealous, love, hatred,
horsehair, whalebone, piety, paint, |
«Mic, bears'-grease; sympathy, tears,
on and kindnéss. She talks with her
tongue, speaks with her eyes, is eloquent in her
actions, and yet we can not understand her.
My friend! how tender is woman! She is as
astoughasanoldgobblei'.
Sbe mosi be screened form the hot summer's
from the blast of winter, and yet,
if she makes op her mind to do it, she can out*
sweat the sun, face a north-easter, and be a
match for the devil. But, inwardly, she is as
tender as the mercies of heaven; her heart is as
modi softer than man's as bees'-wax is softer
than a brick-bat. Her sympathies are as del-
on angels' wings, and her love
l as frefch and unfading amid the shoWers
as the evergreen wreath that
encircled the brow of old winter. Her tender-
is too tough to be destroyed by whatever
chance fortune or time may bring; as tough as
triy«, and twice as common.
Ify bearers, bow loving is woman! Aye, she
is amazingly sickly in her attadytfents. She will
cling fo the chosen objects of her heart like a
'posaam to a gum-tree, and yon can't separate
her wittiout snapping strings, that no art can
mend^uid have a portion of her soul upon the
u|>per leather of her affections. She will some-
times see something to love, where others can
see nothing.to admire; and when her fondness is
once fastened on a fellow, it sticks like glue and
molasses in a bushy head of hair.
My hearers! how childlike is woman! A
plaything herself, she la fond of every plaything
in the worl'd great toy-shop. Her home is the
realm of fancy, her existence is very ideal real-
ity, her very miseries are mingled with a pleas-
ing romance—her present is always bright, and
her future still brighter. Would that I were a
woman, to be pleased with every poesy that pops
its head above the weeds of a wicked world,
and have no thorns to molest me while gather-
ing the wild flowers of imagination... Child-like
woman is very happy. Tickled with the straw
of flattery, delighted with every rainbow-tinted
bobble that floats upon the wave of time-*as
antic as a young 'coon is by moon-light, and as
a cricket, she dances id the sunlight of joy—
and seems to use every endeavor to coax us
male, moody mortals into brighter and happier
paths. So mote! t be!—[Dow. Jr.
he was ipj&rabt which of the gifts to
nse, tbe eldest of tbe' wisest men in the village
came to visit him. Hig hair was entirely white,
and every body loved him, for he was gooj^ui
■ .-y.* f ,v \ s-f*5 / ■ ■
had told him the story of
s old man said,
you, the black paint, ia one
and «idles you to do a foolish
,ve you the white paint, b *
partial friend, and desires you to ma£e more
show than is wise.
41 Neither of their opinions should you follow
If the shed is either black or white, it wiH dis^
agree with' the eolor of yOnr house.. Moreover,
will draw the sun and cansa tbe
look well for a little while and then
soiled, and need painting anew. Now take tqj
advice and mix the white and black paints
together."
So the cottage^ poured one pot into the
other, and mixed them up with his brushes—
and it made lie very color which he liked and
mm mea Derore upon
He had, in pne corn of his small piece of
«jú^d, a hop-vine. He carefully gathered the
ripened hppe, and fus wife made beer of them,
which refreáhed him when warm^ and weary.
It bad always twined around two polés which
he had fastened ! tbe earth, to give it support.
íias JMd^ bniíSng, and h^s
made a little arbor for it to run upon and clus-
ter about.
He painted the arbor gray. So the rock fcnd
the shfd and the arbor were all the same gréy
ooli . . And every thing jooked neat and com*
fortahle, though it was small and poor.
When the cottager and his wife grew old,
ey were sitting together, in their, arbor, at
é.fln*set of a summer's,day.
A stranger, who seemed to be looking at the
country, stopped and inquired how every thing
aronnd that small habitation happened to be in
the same shade of gray
" ít ia very well it is so," said the cottager,
"for my wife and I, yon see, are gray also.
And we have lived so long that the world
itself looks old and gray to ug now."
Then he told him the^storyty .the black and
white paint, and bow the advice of an aged oían
prevented him from mating his little estate
ridiculous when be was yonttg, •
" I have thought of this circumstance so often,
that it has given me instruction. He wlfo gave
nm the Mack paint, proved to be an enemy; and
he who nrged me to use the white, was á friend.
The advice of neither was good."
Those who love us too well are blind to, our
fanlta—and those who dislike us are not willing
to see our virtues. One would make us all
white—the other all black. But neither of
them are right—for we are of a mixed nature,
good and evil—like gray paint, made of opposite
qualities.
If, then, neither the counsel of oür foes nor
of our partial friends, is safe to be taken, we
should cultivate a correct judgment?, which like
the gray paint, mixing both together, may avoid
the evil and secure the good.—[Mrs. L. H.
Sigourney.
One of tbe queer characters in Bleak Honse
is " little Miss Elite," an interestig old lady who
was ruined by a chancery suit. She is down on
Blackstone, and furnishes the following sched-
ule of the things mixtfd up in protracted law-
suit:—Hope, peace, rest, life, dust, ashes, waste,
watat, ruin, despair, madness, death, ennning,
folly, words, whigs, rags, sheepskin, plander,
precedent, jargon, gammon, red tape and seal-
ing wax. A formidable array, and yét how true.
If any thing wear your heart and breeches
thread-bare, it is the "endless verbiage connected
with a court of justice.—[Dutchman.
" It's quite too bad of ye, Darby, to say that
your wife's worse than the devil."
" Ain't plaize your reverence, I can prove it
by the Holy Scripture—-I can, by the powers.
Didn't your reverence in the sermon, yesterday,
tell us if we resist the devil, he'd flee from us.
Now if I resist my wife, she flies at me!''
, at their .i
Shall toast a "Crockett lost, a i
RECEIPT FOR MAKING A WOM^N.
A flit of spirit; a gleam of love;
Aifcot ofjpol* white;
A tintof beauty stained above;
A ray of summer fight.
w 'f
A still, small accent whispered o'er, ..
And music aids tbe birth;
A soul of glóry beams before,
A*d woman walks the earth.
Vision o* NeW Year's Night.—An
¿nan stood, on a new year's midnight, by the
spadops window, and gaz^d, with a look of long
despair, Upward to the immovable, ever-bloom-
ing heaven*, and tfhen downward apon the still
pure white earth, on Which ¿o oné was now so
joyless and sleepless as he. For his grave was
close by him; bdt It was covered only by the
snows of age, not by the verdure of^ ybtfth; and
from ont his rich, eventful- life) he ha^brooght
noting with him but errors, sins and diseases,
á ruined b&£ a desolate soul, a bosom full of
pá^ná^'and an old age full of ravorae. lie
beaufifúl éüffiol his youth tooit _______ ^
edges of your boards to q lit. and the white WflJ spectre^ upon him, and drew him on to ihe
bri^it morning,^ when his &thef placed him up^m
the spot from which diverge the paths of Me;
where the right hand leads upon tile sure path
of virtue into a broad and peaceful land, full o'
light and harvests, and full of 'angels; ant
where the left hand tends down to the mole-
hills of vice, into a dismal cavern, full of drop-
ping poisons, hissing serpents, and blacl^ an<
dreary vapora, i
Alas! t¿e serpents hung upon his bosom, the
poison upon his tongue, and he now knew what
he was. Bereft, of sense,;, with
anguish, he cried up to heaven; " Giveme tack
my youth again! Oh! fkther, set again before
me the paths of life, that I may make a better
choice." '
But his father and his youth had long been
gone! - He saw illnaive fights dancing upon the
marshes and expiring apon the grave-yard, and
he said: " These are my foolishly squandered
days." He saw a star fall from fyeaVen, glitter
in its descent, and vanish upon the earth. "That
.is myseJfT he said, with a bleeding 4eart, «ad
the satpeo^ teeth of repentaaeh struck still
dewier jlnto Ua wounded spirit. '
His burning- fancy pictured dark shadowy
creeping upon the house tops;- and the wind-
mill raised its threatening anas to 8trike him
down; and a mask that bad. been left in the
empty charnel-house gradually assumed his feat-
ures.
In the midst of'this mental convulsion sud-
denly the chimes of the new yea* floated down
from-the tower, like distant church mdody. A
softer emotion soothed his breast. He looked
about around the horizon, and he thought of
the friends of his youth, who, , bettor and hap-
pier than he, were teachers of Hie earth, fathers
of happy children, and bleased men, and he
sighed: "Oh! I, too, could, like you, slumber
away, with tearless eye, this new year's night,
if I only had wished it! Alas! I, too, could
be happy, beloved parents, if I only had obeyed
your new year's wishes and instrnctions."
In this' feverish recollection of his youthful
days it seemed to him as if th¿ 'mask in tbe
charnel-house, that bore his features, had risen
up; at length, by the superstition which on a
new year's night sees spirits, and beholds the
future, it changed to a living youth, who, like
the beautiful youth of the capitol, was extract-
ing a thorn, and his once blooming, youthful
form was, with bitter illusion, presented before
him. .
He could no longer behold tbe sight; be cov-
ered his eyes; a thousand burning tears traee-
lessly gushed upon the snow, and, bereft of rea-
son and comfort, he deeply murmured: u Only
return again, dayá of my youth! only return
again!"
And they did return! For, it was only a
terrible dream that had tortured- the slumbers
of the new year's night. He was still a youth.
His departures from the path of virtue, how-
ever, were no dream. But he thanked God
that, still in the enjoyment of youth, he might
turn aside from the filthy avenues of vice, and
seek out the sunny paths of virtue, that lead
to the peaceful land of harvests. ,
Turn back with him, my young reader, if thou
¡tandest upon' his path of error. Else this
Ireadn will once be thy judge; and then, if thou
;houldst cry ont: " Return again, my beautiful
zoutb," it would not again return to thee.—
From the German of Jean Paul.
'
'iP":: •
Thought—? What is It? —^We often, very
often, hear the term thought applied to an action
of the mind, and it is used alike whether the
meaning intended to be Conveyed is simple per-
ception of ordinary fact, and a step from that
to the first deductions, or whether the pro-
cess spoken of is that farther reasoning even to
the eliciting of ultimate law and firét principle.
L Bur only What tou Wárt.—'
you do not waht, is a laavim u ^
society itaelf. But it is also one
ually sjippiágoot of mind, «id
therefore, be bnaqght forward
quently. Spending money, in
common to
degrades himself by
But in either case, we apprehend, very few bava stant peril of ruining
determined for themselves wbat thought is. ; We
often say "I think such and. such is the "
The question is what do we do when we thus
scribe? ; Simply this, from what we hsve seeaand
what we know, condude, or judge, what we
sume. The operation ia in fact but a
cess which is entirely analagous to that
the mind of the poet and artist, or of tins inven-
tor generally creating his ideal. And his ideal,
when realized and made visible to the worlds is
that which gives him consequence. By the vary
use of Jgia^we ordinarily term thought, then,
werare |o4f*rtain a^tOTt^.mfi It
and ¡iromínent thiakar." W8k':l^thóijght & an
ordinary business, and ^Wmt we make use
of to cany out 8omé ordinary plan. Bat with
him it isy an intoxication. And we eatt tbe man
wi$h thought a genios, "
w* all possess.
cultivation; of tiie art-ief
they pos8eia it only in a
serve Wdinary interests.
within the reach of all. It is
?And what is study?
nutting to aaefeory of tbe
sehool-boy would answer yes
to the nan it is
indeed another Word
we distinguish tbe classes of
read for lore of reading, toe
tbe present jbomenjt is titey
^ance. It ris so fine to
to live in a handsome ho
wife and children in rich
an unusual degree of
"" 'to resist
ISctiw.tiCT.
on this tendency to?
credit is so easily
buyers are so
even
■ to.
. V
^6
condition, i
aited,
'¿mm
others
minds may hifre food for
recteive their
cultivated
ency, on its own resources,
prest to whatever emaoates fix
tbe originator. The mind of the first is afiddwhieh
rate completely ran to waste; tbe i
of good thiugs, but
,%*** ** is*ieb;
soil
iafinHive variety of
requires.
Thought^ study. .But study is of two
mosl,8ptly'«et
Hie one
But the other is
It plays upon the heavens of the
Bogus.—A Yankee
country justice,
ment, with having passed bad
to baring heard the
bad him arrested.
The justice then said: /♦ #a|l,
plead guilty then to be the utterer of comUar-
feit money." -
"No, sir, I never uttered any such thing."
"Why don't yoa say tyat you said ia
yon had pasaed
roared out tbe informer.
"Yes, your ponor, I did. pass it, but I
touched it. It wopld be well for the puWfc if
every one passed tbe stuff, the popr would
get so much stuck wj|h it"
The informer slunk out of coart and toe
oner was dischaigéd. The Yankee was poor,
and sued for and obtained damages, for fab*.im-
prisonment. This is one way of "raking the
wind."
Mi
remember, not merely the i
mg along the
A lady was told the other day by a traveling
gentleman that, ia a certain country, every lady '
who had a small mouth was provided with alum-
band by the government.
"Ith it pothibul," said the lady, making her
mouth as small as she conlij."
The gentleman added, "that if a lady bad a
arge mouth, she was provided with two husbands.
"My gracious," exclaimed the lady, at the
same time throwing her mouth opened to ite full
extent.
The gentleman became alarmed, and made his
escape almost immediately, and has not been
íeard of sihee.
He who betrays another's secrets because he
las quarreled with him, was never worthy of
tbe sacred name of frieud; a breach of kindness
on one side will not justify n breaeh of trust on
the other.
aft this
for
and
its
that tbe
dpitate caieer. It will be
get that the only safe
Pilgrim's Progress, a>
and ended in
ernment, in the, love
to all mankind."
i ■
!%.
fa t> .'#jgn
A Yankee,
his father,
ties;
tion:
and send them
Those wlo are
heaven have no
who carries the
who follows it.
If you wish to go
do with phil
at the head, al
1
V
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Burke, H. T. The Texan Mercury. (Seguin, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 15, Ed. 1 Saturday, December 31, 1853, newspaper, December 31, 1853; Seguin, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth180490/m1/1/: accessed May 4, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.