Telegraph and Texas Register (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 7, No. 4, Ed. 1, Wednesday, January 12, 1842 Page: 1 of 4
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TMSRJFXSm 5 in adYange.
BY CRCJGEB&: MOORE.
PUBLISHED BY CRUGER & MOORE.
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TO, PROMINENT CITIZENS
r, BY J. ORVIU-E TAYLOR.
Men qf wealth, men of learning, pour instruction upon
ho Tipnrlc nf thn nfionle vou owe them that baptism.
Look at-that boy; in the gutter! hadess, shoeless, and aL
lnosTshirtless, he is a part ol our King, a pan oi our sov-
ereignty. Should he not receive a sovereign's education?
Should he nut bemrepared for the Throne our institutions
have given! him'? There is a gem in every human form;
let the diamond be polished, and it-will shine in truth and
beauty. There is still jaithe most dp based "a beau ethe-
rial, though sullied aid dishonored, still divine." And
our'motto-should be Teach and habituate the people to
make a right use of the faculties which God has given
them, and then trust them fearlesslytafthemselves. Give
democracies education, and freedom of action, and then
"let them alone."
"Uneducated mind, is educated vice," for God made
man to know. He is Ihe creature of instruction ; for in a
Tight education there is a divine alchymy which turns all
the baser parts of man's nature into gold We are told
by the ancients that as soon as the first rays of the morn-
ing sun fell upon the statute of Memnon, it sent up music.
It Is after the first rays of knowledge fall upon man that
his nature discourses harmony all before ig the darkness
of barbarism.
All can see that wickedness leads to misery, yet very
few find out that which is equally certain, that ignorance
leads to misery and misery lo wickedness. Di. Johnson
was once asked; "who is" the most miserable man," and
the reply of the sage was: "that man who cannot read on
a rainy da"y." The writer was once passing through a
park, and saw nailed to one of the trees this warning;
"All dogs found in this park will be shot" A friend
who was with us, remarked, "unless dogs can read they
are pretty badly off here.", Now God has not only writ-
ten his laws upon the trees, but in the stars and in the
flowers; his laws are above us and beneath us, on our
riht and'on our left, and if a man is not able lo read he
ispretty badly o'ff here worse oflflhan the dog, for the
dog has a master to read for him ; but man has no master
between him and his God. 1
A maxim, of more truth and force than any other I re-
member ever lo have seen, was thrown off by a British
statesman by a man who was in learning vivid, varied
and philosophical, and who in conversation threw out
more gems, sparkling and brilliant as they came, than any
other man of his age. His profound apothegm was that.
"Educationjsgihe cheap defence of nations? And if I
might put a truism by the side of this, I would say; It is
cheaper to educate the infant mind, than to support the
aged criminal. Yes, bestow the pence on common
schools, and save the pounds on prisons. Man was not
made lo be sent to prison, but to be educated; and "the
very worst use you can put a man to is to ham." Neither
is man a Human Poor Box into whose moulh we are to
drop a few cents daily. "The ignorant child left to grow
up darkening into the deeper ignorance of manhood, with
all its jealousies, and its narrow-mindedness, and its super-
stitions, and its penury of enjoyments; poor amid the in-
tellectual and moral riches of the universe; blind in this
splendid temple which God has lighted up, and famishing
amid the profusions of omnipotence."
" O wo for those who trample on the mind
That fearful ihing! They know not what they do
Nor what they deal with
To lay rude hands uponJSod's mysteries there.''
' "WOMAN.
What lawyer has not observed this difference between
ihe sexes, namely : If a wnman i$ indicted for an offence,
who attends her in the awful presence of Justice, to con
sole and cheer her, braying the stare of the gaping crowd,
the humiliation of such companionship and such connec-
tion? A mother or a sister. How seldom a father, a
brother, or a husband I If a -man is placed in the bar,
who issojicitous for him? Always bis aged mother.his
broken hearted wife, or his sorrowing daughter. Shame,
Borrow, degredation, contempt, are all forgotten in the
strength of woman's love. How seldom is a mans! If
he attends, and -when does he? his look towards the pris-
oner at Jhe har, though his nearest relative, is often dark
and scowling, a sense of shame that attaches lo hjinself,
weighing on him at the very crises of the prisoner's fate.
A woman's look is that of compassion .and sympathy.
She thinks not of her own situation, or of the opinion of
the crowd around her, as regards herself; if she glances
at them it is only when some part of the testimony makes
-for oc against him, or the judge or ihe lawyer speaks
upon some strong point, that she may discern their opin-
ion of his fate. She watches his-eye; every movement;
is she near him, she anticipates his every want; she hands
him the glass of .water to quench the fever that anxiety
has produced; she walks-by his side from the court jlo the
prison, .and from the prison "to the court, she sits as near lo
him in (he court as possible she would sit in the bar with
him, would it allow her, she waits, for hours, to exchange
one word with him through the grated door; she rakes
and scrapes all she can to make him decent at his trial,
that his appearance may produce a favorable impression.
If the awful verdict is against him, she forsakes him not,
though all the world have forsaken him In the last ex-
tremity, she is by his side with a love that like a noble
arch, pressure strengthens. She attends at the very foot
of the gallows; his ignominy, his it treatment of her are
not thought of. Whose wail was'thai, which, when the
fatal drop fell, pierced every ear and every heart with the
conviction that there wasjne whose pang was keener
even than the dying convict? 'Twas hers. And she
will beg his body, and compose decently the distorted
limbs, and bury him with care. The spot where he is
aid, though known asthe murderers grave which the
worJd points lo with horror, aqd where superstition says
no grass will ever grow is nevertheless, a hallowed spot
to her, where she will even plant the flower and manure
the grass, to induce the belief that if superstition is correct,
the sleeper is innocent. What the poet makes her say is
jtrue:
"I know not, I ask not, if guilt's on hi? heart,
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!"
A Dreadful Tragedy in Florence. The London
Court Journal relates the following particulars of a hor-
rible tragedy that is said to have recently taken place in
Florence:
The two .sons of Lord (who has a villa near Flo-
rence) -went into the town a few days since to look ntsome
horses at a livery stable, when a quarrel ensucJ, and
words Tan hjgh between them ; nevertheless, they returned
home apparently reconciled to each other, and dined and
slept as usual under their father's Toof. The next day
they ag'ajn went out jostejisibly to shoot j but the younger
HOUST
brother, a lad of eighteen, still nourished a deadly resent-
ment to his elder brother, a young man of twenty-three,
on account of the dispute of the preceding day, and upon a
bird getting up, he deliberately levelled his gun and aimed
at his brother; but only succeeded in slightly wounding
him in the side, he drew a pistol, and took a surer aim and
shooting him in the back of the neck and raising up part
of the skin of the hpad. As soon as his brother had
fallen, this modern Cain flew into a neighboring vineyard,
where several contadini seized him, and. remonstrating
with him upon hi? horrible conduct, told him that he
woujd come to the galleys at last. To which he replied,
with great defiance, "No, no, then, you, I shall never
come to the galleys !" drew another pistol fi om his pocket,
and, opening his mouth, shot himself dead on the spot.
The corpse of the unfortunate suicide and fiactorcide was
left to blacken for many hours unheeded beneath the
scorching rays of an Italian sun, while the wounded body
of the elder brother was conveyed home to his father's
who is said to have exclaimed on seeing it, not knowing
the fate of his other son, " If that most unnatural wietch
escapps the gallows, it will not be my fault" A council
of some hours duration was held at Lord Holland's as to
whether the suicide should be buried in concecrated
ground or not; it was at lmgth decided that he should, so,
accordingly, by torchlight, with no other attendants but
the clergyman and the so.xton, the body was consigned to
the graver The 'life of the wounded bi other is still pre-
carious. From the Morning Star.
The wheels of time, with noiseless tread,
Fast bear me down life's rugged way,
Soon I'll be numbered with the dead
And my all deeds with me decay.
Like others, soorFTIl be forgot,
Nor would I wish to live on earth,
Unless 'twould be to share a spot
On lovely Virtue's page of worth.
Virtue! that name how dear to mel
It seems lo speak of someling pure;
Oh, may this heart by it be free,
And with its blessing feel secure.
With it, I'd brave the storms of life,
And when I drop ''this mortal coil,"
I'll only ask the sons of sttife
To lay me low beneath the soil.
For each of them I'd humbly pray
The Lord to grant them viitue too;
Oh may they walk in Wisdom's way
And find peace with her humble few.
C J. W.
December 30, 1841.
Adieu! adieu, my gentle friend.
Fate frowns and we must sever
Our pleasures here are at end;
We part! Alas, forever.
Forever! Oh! the bitter thought;
I feel the pangs of sorrow.
I'll love thee still, tho' I'm forgot
By thee, ere 'tis to-morrow.
How fondly we have lov'd in youth.
And dream'd of joys to come;
But fate's decreed, ah ! solemn truth,
That we shall ne'er be one.
Our plighted hopes now withering lie,
Our earthly prospects dead;
But there's a hope beyond the sky,
From us has never fled.
A hope in God, a trust secure,
The earthly ties be riven;
That we shall meet to part no more,
Forever bless'd in Heaven
January 4th, 1842. C. J. W.
"THE GIRL AND THE PHILOSOPHER."
As Kate went tripping up the town,
- (No lassie e'er looked prettier)
An 'unco chjel' in cap and gown,
(No mortal e'er looked grittier,)
Accosted Kitty in the street,
As she was going to cross over,
And robbed her of a kiss the cheat !
Saying "I'm a Philosopher "
"A what?" said Kitty, blushing red,
And gave his hat a toss over
"Are you? Oh Phi!" and ofFshe sped,
Whilst he bewail'd the " los oph-er .'"
From the Literary Gazelle.
EFFRONTERY.
I have often wondered how Jack L , the attorney
got on in the world ; for, to me, his character does not
appear lo possess one redeeming quality. Every body
calls him a liar, a rascal; yet every body associates with
him ; he is welcomed ever at the houses of the fastidious,
and his parties are always filled at home; business pours
upon him from all quarters; and, lastly, he has married
a woman of high reputation and respectability. Surely
there must be something very fascinaljng in his manners
and address he must, at least, be a complete gentleman.
Not that his person is any thing but prepossessing; his
manners are disgustingly familiar and boisterous, and his
conversation abounds in slang and profaneness. How,
tnen, does he get on ? Why is not every door shut against
him?
Effroqlery Effrontery is the talisman to which he
owes his success, it is the "Open Sesame," which admits
him into good society. If he is any way appeared to con-
demn or to be ashamed of himself, he would be shunned
like a common swindler; but he puis on a bold face on
all his action he talks so openly of drinking, gambling,
and cheating, that he seems to take as much pains to con
vince the world that he is a adept in all three, as any
other man ever took to conceal his vices.
He catches strangers completely by surprise; they
know not what to make of him ; in fact, he manages his
part so well, that while he is in reality playing ofT his true
character, he appears only to be acting; and I have heard
many a one say of him, after a first interview, I believe
that is a good-natured fellow at bottom. He was once
employed in a suit against his own father, and so unblush-
ingly did he take hold of the matter, that it did not lose
him a single acquaintance or friend.
Though Jack begun the world pennyless he is now a
rich man. Those who were cheated by bjm last year
though they abuse him, to be sure still seem willing to
be cheated on, aud Jack proceeds in his career as boldly
as jever.
This character, I am afraid, is not an uncommon one;
at least innumerable varieties of it are to be met in our in-
tercourse ith society.
Throughout life, it has been a subject of surpiiseto me,
how those bold spirits succeed in obtamingtheir purpose,
even with each other It corroborates the justice of Hu-
dibras's observation
"That Jhe pleasure is as great
In being cheated as to cheat."
In fact, people in general seem ever ready to be imposed
on by those who posses dauntless effrontery. J knew an
instance, not long ago, of a man who was absolutely con-
cerned in defrauding another often thousand pounds; yet,
so boldly did he mantain his own character, and utter self-
evident falsehood upon falsehood, that his very victim (a
Published Weekly.
OIN, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY
man by no. means devoid of common sense.) wasthe fol-
lowing year, not only ready to enter into fresh engage--ments
with him, but even, on one occasion, accommodat-
ed him with letters of recommendation to the Continent.
I , is another personification of Effrontery, tho'
in a smaller way. It is the very hight of his ambition to
be thought to mingle in the society of people of- rank;
and no stone does he leave unturned lo attain his end
Besides the old trick of bowing to every coronet that he
meets, &c , he professes lo be intimately acquainted with
Sir Walter Scott, and half the celebrated authors of the
day: and, lo bear himself out he has bought extensive
editions of their woiks. which he shows about asthegifis
of the writers, having their names inscr bid on the title-
pages. He mepls with hundreds who are simple enough
to swallow all his boastings, and who, in their turn, boast
of his acquaintance.
In fact, the instances of efTiontery which croud upon
me are almost innumerable. I am often amused at the
various forms which it is capable of assuming; and shall,
perhaps, on some future, occasion, again endeavor to amuse
the Fireside by some more illustrations of the subject.
POOR RELATIONS; OR, '3G AND '40.
BY ?UMA C. EMBURY.
'Drive to Mrs Giantham's," said Mrs Harley, as she
issued from one of the fashionable Byroad way stores, and
entered her splendid carriage. In a few minutes the
velvet-covered steps were again let down, and she stood at
the door of her friend, with her card-case already half
opened in her hand, well knowing that U would be in
requisition, as she had just seen Mrs Grantham amid a
group of ladies in. the crowded promenade. "Wait here
'till I return; I am going to pay another visit," said she,
as the footman threw open the carriage deor. With
stately step she walked onward until she reached the
nearest intersecting street, then drawing her veil closely
over her face, and quickening her pace, she tuined the
corner, and was lost la the view of her watchful servants.
"I thought so," said the livered coachman with a know-
ing leer; "where do you think Mrs. Harley has gone,
Wilson?"
"How should I know?" was the careless reply.
"She's gone to see her old aunt who keeps school in
one of these up-town streets "
"Oh, ho! is that the game? poor relations! Well, I
am glad that she has too much regard for her horses to
let them stdnd at the door of a beggarly school-madam."
Quite unconscions of the remarks of her saucy domes-
tics, who assumed the privilege of conjecturing the truth
at most inconvenient seasons. Mrs. Harley hurried on,
and, after several turns and windings, taken'lo avoid pub
licity, found the place she sought. Her loud knock hav
ing procured her instant admission, she was ushered into
an apartment, which could scarcely fail to awaken sime
early associations in the heait of the woman of fashion, for
every article of its simple furniture had been familiar to
her childhood The tall thin china jars which adorned the
narrow chimneypiece the still taller silver candlesticks
beside them the cumbrous mahogany chairs, with the
clean but faded chintz covers the straight backed sof i
the spider-legged tea table, all were old friends Even
the worsted-worKed tea-kettle holder, its original colors
now blended in one dusky tint, held its accustomed place
on one side of the fire; while a fly-brush of peacock's
feathers, the exact courterpart of the one whose hundred
eyes had been the wonder of her childhood, still hung in
the corner. Many a happy hour had Mrs. Harley spent
in the very room where she now stood as a stranger, and
in spite of herself, her feelings softened as memory re-
traced her by-past life. The entrance of the mistress of
this old-fashioned mansion, only served to revive with still
greater vividness her recollections of the past, for m the
mild countenance of Mrs. Wilkinson, she beheld the same
kind expiession which had won her childish affection.
The years that had stolen the bloom from the cheek of
the votary of fashion, and had robbed her form of its pliant
grace, had left scarcely a trace of their progress on the
elder lady. Her tall thin figure still retained its perpen-
dicularity, and time had only deepened the furrows which
grief had early traced upon her brow.- Her clcsely-cut
black silk dress the square of thin muslin pinned with
so much precision over her bosom her high-crowned
cap, with its neatly-crimprd border, and the smooth braids
of silver-sprinkled hair which crossed her high forehead,
all were in exact resemblance to the picture tractd upon
Mrs. Hurley's memory some twenty years earlier.
"I have come to ask you to pass the day with me, aunt"
said Mrs. Harley, assuming her blandest tone in answer
to Mrs. Wilkinson's polite hut cold salutation. "Your
duties, and my constant engagements, prevent us from
meeting as often as we ought, but I am determined, for
the future, to ai range some plan by which we can have
more of your society."
"Your determination comrs loo late, madam," said the
old lady, while a slight flush crossed her pale cheek ;
"had my duties and your engagements been the only bar-
riers between us, they might have been easily removed.
The true obstacles have been somewhat more insurmount-
able, and yet mcthinks even the distinction between pov-
erty and riches might have been ovei looked in favor of
your few surviving relatives."
"Nay, aunt, you wrong me," said Mrs. Harley. "I
am sure I have never failed in respect towards you."
"No; you have managed to treat me with total neglect,
and yet, to be perfectly respectful, ifv by any chance, we
accidentally met. However, I wish not to reproach you,
Caroline; your way through life has not been a my
way, and though both of us were nurtured in the same
home, we have sought very different roads to our jour-
ney's end. When your mother my only sister named
you by my name, and gave you into my arms as another
claimant upon my affections. I received you as a precious
gift from her hands; and when, two years later, she was
borne to her early grave, you can testify to the manner in
which I fulfilled my duties to the little orphan. But
times have altered. ; I was then prosperous an.d happy,
ihe wife of a man eminent in his profession, and the
mother of a lovely family. I am now a lonely widow,
compelled to eke out my diminished means of support by
keeping school, and I ought not be surprised to find friends
changed as well as fortune"
"My dear madam, can you suppose your altered cir-
cumstances Inive had any influence upon my feelings?"
exclaimed Mrs Harley, in well dissembled surprise.
"I do not speak from vague supposition only, Caroline;
I know what I say. When my daughter and myself un-
dertook the charge of a piivate boarding-school, you gra-
dually dropped all intimacy with us, for you had grown
rich, as we declined in fortunes, and you begap to feel
that the presence of lpoor relalioyif might be rather in
convenient. When your daughter lelt the nursery, she
was transferred to one of those pests of modern society, a
fashionable boarding school, not so much on account of
my antiquated mctnou oi imparting real Knowledge, in
stead of superficial accomplishments, as because the rela
tionship between us would seem degrading in the eyes of
the world. Nay, you would have even denied that rela-
tionship when questioned on the subject, and I therefore
can have no confidmce in your professions of regard"
Tl'f self-possession of Mrs Harley quite failed her as
she listened to these bitter truths Her brow crimsoned,
and she bit her lips as she replied, "well, aunt, you have
chosen to misunderstand my motives, and reject my good
will."
"No, Caroline, I do not reject vour good will, hut I
cannot consent to accept your civilitu s; if I can serve you
in any way, I am ready, but do not come to me with hol-
low professions You have doubtless visited me on busi-
ness this morning; lot us therefore discuss it as strangers,
or, at least, mere acquaintances "
Nothing but Mrs Harley's strong desire to acquire
some informaiion on a subject which noarl- interested her,
caulJ Inve induced her to bear her aunt's severe remarks
YOL.
She, however, suppressed the ausry feelings which rose
within her breast, and with the bland courtesy for which
she was remarkable, replied, "It shall be as you wish,
madam; 1 will no longer proffer any claim of kindred,
but if it be not contrary to your ideas of propriety, will
you be so good as to afford me some information respect-
ing the character and temper of a young lady now under
your charge? I mean Miss Eveline Morris."
Mrs. Wilkinson looked suprised. Mrs. Harley con
tinued, "I did intpnd to include her in the invitation which
I had the pleasure of offering to you, and the pain of
hearing you reject; of course I wish my questions con-
cerning her to be considered in the light of a confidential
communication, and I should be unwilling to have the in-
terest I take in her made public."
"Will you oblige me by making known the reasons for
such inquiiy?" asked Mrs. Wilkinson.
'Why. to tell the truth, it is on my daughter's account
that I feel interested in the child. Major Morris visits us
very frequently, and I think is strongly disposed to admire
my beautiful Mary.'
'Major Morris!'1 exclaimed Mrs. Wilkinson, "pardon
my surprise, Caroline, but if I retain my recollection of
the very lovoly little girl whom I once saw with you, she
can scarcely be more than eighteen years of age, while
the Major is certainly past forty." s
"You are quite right, aunt," replied Mrs. Harley, in
her moit dulcet tones. "M,ary is just eighteen, but the
major is a vpry young-looking man, and possesses many
advantages."
"He is rich and. fashionable, you mean, Caroline.
"It would certainly be a brilliant match for Mary; he
ia very distinguished in society."
"He is more than that or I am much mistaken in, him,"
said Mrs. Wilkinson warmly. "He is a man of high
toned feelings, of elevated character, and of fine talents. I
am no surprised that he should, seek a second marriage,
for I doubt whether his first was a very happy one, but it
is strange he should choose so young a wife."
"Mary is very beautiful, aunt, and I have taken great
pains to destroy in her mind those youthful illusions
which so often interfere with the prudent calculations of
parents."
"What do you mean "by youthful illusions?"
"Oh, those romantic ideas of love in a cottaget and dis-
interest d affection, which generally fills a girl's head
when she first enters society, and often induces her to
throw herselfaway upon some penniless fellow, with black
whiskers and a sentimental smile. Mary, (hough so young,
has as much discretion as if she was thiity. She never
reads novels, and her knowledge of the world is derived
entirely from my experience. It has been my object to
make her understand society as it actually exists. My
own preconceived fancies of worldly happiness have given
me some bitter hours, and I wished to save her from the
pain which we all suffer, when our early dreams fade into
reality."
There was a touch of feeling in Mrs. Harley's manner,
which softened the stern old lady. "Take care, Caroline,"
said she, '-lest in destroying the romance which grows up
in the heart of every woman, you do not root up the gen-
erous impulses which are ever entwined with it. She
who enters upon life with warm and enthusiastic feelings,
must necessarily encounter many sorrows, hut that very
discipline of grief renders her more capable of bearing her
burden meekly; of sympathising with the afflicted, of
practising the disinterested kindness which is a peculiar
privilege, and, in a word, of performing those feminine
duties which are designated to make her a help-mate for
man. I do not admire a calculating spirit in youth. It
is so unnatural, so upsuited to the unsuspecting innocence
which ought always to characterise that bright season in
life, that, schoolmistress as I am, I would lather see the
eriois of a generous mind, than the undeviating propriety
.of a perfectly selfish one, which is always correct from
motives of interest.
Well, aunt, for my part, I think those happiest who
allow their affections to run in the freest channel."
"Those are the happiest who, having the greatest num-
ber of duties to do, perforin them best. A woman is blest
in propoilion as she ministers to the comforts of others,
she may have more sorrows, more calls on her sympathy,
but she has also more sources of enjoyment; for she thus
exeicises all her faculties all her affections and in this
evercise consists the secret of a woman's happiness."
"I daresay you are right, madam," said Mrs. Harley,
politely, suppressing a yawn, "but now let us talk of Eve-
line Morris If Mary is to be her step-mother, as I hope
she is, I should like to know how the young lady may
be best managed."
"Managed; how I detest the word," exclaimed Mrs.
Wilkinson, warmly; a child should never be managed.
Management implies finesse, and trickery, and conceal-
ment, neither of which are necessary in the guidance of
children. I have taught school for twenty years, and
have never found one who could not comprehend and
appreciate plain, honest dealing. Teach young persons
with candor, kindness and resolution, and you will never
study the art of management"
"Is Miss Eveline accustomed to the exercise of her own
will?"
"Yes, when she wills to do right, and when she is
wrong, a word of remonstrance is sufficient to subdue her.
Eveline Morri.s must be governed only by the gentle in-
fluence of the affections, for although to kindness she is as
docile as a lamb, she would be utterly untameably by
harsh and severe treatment. But are you sure Major
M.orris is in love with you daughter."
"I wish I wqs certain of that fact, my dear madam ; but
I do not despair of seeing him so; he admires the fresh
and youthful beauty for which she js remarkable, he is
charmed with the simplicity of manners which I have
taken such pains lo teach her, and I think, with proper
discretion on our part, he may be led on to formaserijus
attachment. Excuse me for tresspassing so lopg upqn
your valuable time," continued Mrs. Harley, looking at
hi r watch. "So you will not be persuaded to bring your
young pupil to dine with me to-morrow?" Thepld lady
coldly answered in the negntive. "Well, good morning!
the next time I call, I will bring Mary with me, to make
the acquaintance of Miss Morris."
Mrs. Harley hurried away, and as she regained her
enniage, she threw herself back upon the silken cushions
with a feeling of discomfort such as she did. not of(en ex-
perience. "Thank Heaven," thought she, "that long lec-
ture is at ond ; the old lady has passed away an hour, and
vet connived to give me no actual information abpqt this
Eveline Morris; I dare say iMary will have trouble
enough with her, unless her father can be persuaded to
keep her at school "
Perhaps the manoeuvering mamma would have felt less
sanguine in her schemes if she could have taken a peep
into a certain back parlor, where sat the handsome and
stately Major Morris, holding the hand of a delicate and
graceful woman, in whose intellectual countenance the
'freshness of youthful beauty' had long since givn place
to more lasting charms He admired the beautiful Mary
Harley, as he would have done a fine picture, but if he
thought of her at all, it was only as a child, in compari-
son with himself He was the friend of her father, wiih-v.
out having the slightest idea of becoming the loverf$$a
daughter, for his good sense taught him, that in making
a ceconu cnoice ins age, anu me niiure wenare oi nis
child should be taken into consideration. This he had
done; and even while Mrs Harley was condescending to
visit her poor relaliaivi. in order to further her plans with
regard to the rich widower, he had taken the liberty of
calling upon one of those humble relntnes with the offer
of his hand, and heart. In loss than throe months after
the double interview, the fashionable world were all sur-
prised by the anouncement of the major's marriage. He
had learned to estimate the true character of women, and
despising the allurements of fashion, he had cIiospii the
modest, unpretending daughter of Mrs. Wilkinson the
12, 1842.
or $7 at the end of the year.
VII. NO. 4-WHOLE NO. 319.
poor relation of the aspiring Mrs. Harley. The close ofr
the memorable year of 36, the year of bubbler, as it
may emphatically be called, found the major and his pleas-
ant family circle enjoying the rational pleasure of Paris-
ian life, while it left Mrs Harley planning new schemes
for the advancement of her daughter, and vainlv reorer.
tinrr her nporlprt nf hpr 'nnnr r eJnil owe' " -
It was in the spring of 1840 whea Major Morris re-,
turned lo his native lanch His daughter had grown up.
into an elegant and graceful girl, hiV wife had realized alls
his anticipations of domestic happiness, and hchad learned
to love old Mrs. Wilkinson with almost filial affection.- .
They formed a united and affectionate family, studying '
the comfort of each other, and thus contributing most effec-.
tually to their on. They returned to take up their resi-
dence in the city of their birth, and the Major's first care
was to select such a dwelling as might become bis per-,
manent place of abode. He found no difficulty in pro-.
curing such. Many a splendid mansion, which, a.t, his.
departure, was -filled-with aspiring and wealthy famiJies-
now stood untenanted and lonely in their magnificence.
The spirit of speculation had proved itselfbut a joggling
fiendthe gold which men had fancied within their
grasps, like fairy treasure, and returned to itsforiginat
worthlessness, and the millionire of '36, was-thebankrunt.
of '40. -
Among others who hadpuUn.the sickle at harvestime,
and reaped'only tares, was Mr. Harley. Temptediby the
opportunity of making a fortune in.a night, he forgot that,,
things of such gourdlik growth may wither even so
quickly. Neglecting the business which was gradually '
heaping up wealth within his CQffers, be threw himself-
into the midst of stock and land,, speculations, entering
heart and hand into all.the gambling schemes of the wild-
est projectors. , We smile at the credulity of those whQ,
in the olden time, ruined, themselves, apd,b.pggared,their
children, by their insane quest of the philosopher's stone
but will not posterity regard with the same contemptuous'
pity the mad and. headlong career which men of'ourrown
time have followed, in their pursuit of wealth ? We were
smitten with avarise as with a pestilence the strong and.
the weak the wise and the ignorant the virtuous anct
the depraved all.fell victims to the plague, and many an,
untimely grave many a broktn heart, which 'brokenly,
lives on,' remains to attest the fearful ravages of the dis-
ease. Mr. Harley had risked all, andjasl. ?rom a condi-
tion of affluence and,splendor, he was c,astlbeae!jQnor into,
beggary. Every thing was gonehisLraQiiey his credit
even his character as a marj oXhonor, yas lost, in his
vain attempt lo sustain himst-lf, andfin the very, crisis of
his misfortune, he was found Iayipg-deadt on the floor of
his counting-room. He h-id died in a fit of apoplexy, pro-
duced by intense mental distress, but the good natured,
world, of course, suggtstid that an. event so judiciously
timed, could scarcely be a natural one, and thus the cloud
of suspicion rested even upon the grave qf the unhappy
bankrupt. Major Morris sought in vain, to discover the
retreat of the bereaved family. Whether from pride, or,
some accidental cause, thoy had left no "trace of their
course after the final sale of all their furniture and effects,
and Mrs. Wilkinson, w,hose sense of past wrongs had long
been forgotten in sympathy for their misfortunes, in vain,
lamented her ignorance of their condition.
Some mon hs had pussed away, when Mr. Wilkinsor.
having occasion to employ a seamstress, received inform-
ation from a person who kept a sort of haberdashbery
store, that shs could pot perform a greater act of charity,
than by giving her wqrk to a lady who lodged in the
upper part of her house. Upon further inquiry, Mrs.
Wilkinson ascertained that the person whom she was,
required to employ lived alone, in great seclusion, and
that her name was never mentioned to the ladies who
gave her work. "The work is left with me, ma'am,'1,
said the woman, "and 1 am responsible for i ; butthe ladv
does not want to be known ; I believe she was once very-
rich, and she is afraid some of her acquaintances, will re-,
member her."
" Has she a daughter?" enquired Mrs. Wilkinson,
"She has ma'am, but the unnatural creature has IefD
her mother, and gone off with a young Frenchman, who
took a fancy to her pretty face."
"Was she very handsome?'
"Yes ma'am, but she was no betfer than a brautiful
wax figure she did not seem to care for any 'body, and.
all she did was to dress herself in all the little finery she
could get, and sit by the window to attract the attention of
the .gentlemen. Her mother was alnst killed by her
deseition, but it did not destroy tho poor lady's prfde;
believe she has gone without a dinner mapy a time, be-
cause she was too proud to let any one know her poverty."
Mrs. Wilkinson's fnterest was exciud, and she insisted,
on being allowed to visit the uameliss lady. In spite of
the remonstrances Qf the kind-hearted shop keepe she
made her way up the narrow stairs, aud in the miserable
apartment, found, as she had expected, her bereaved and
impoverishrd neicc.
Mrs. Morris dji not insult per unhappy cousin by cal-
ling to see her in her carriage, nor yet did she make her
way by stealth to the abode of poverty. A comfortable
home, a competent provision for her comfort were provid-
ed, and then Mrs. Wilkinson conducted her daughter to
the presence of her relative, whose claims to kindred were
not now disavowed. Doubtless, of all the parties, Mrs.
Harley felt, with ihe most acuteness, the difference be-,
tween poor relations in '36 and '40.
JURIES.
In this country, thanks to the free character of our noble,
institutions, it is not often necessary to vindicate the inde-.
pendence of Jurors. But even here, judges have some-
times forgotten the dignity and courtesy due to this hum-v
ble, but favorite tribunal. Such an one was eloquently
reproved in the following address reported verbalism by
the late Rev. Edmund Butcher. The whole circumstance
proves that true eloquence is the child of nature.
A Judge on the Morthwest Circuit in Ireland tried an
action for assault brought by a neighboring land owner,
against a poor tenant, who had resorted to this method of
redressing wrongs of the most grevious character. The
jury found him not guilty.
"TheJudge-.was engaged, and told the Jury, they must
go back and reconsider the matter ; adding, he was aston
ished at their giving such an infamous verdict, The jury-
bowed, went back, in a quarter of an hour returned, when
the foreman, a yeperable old mao, thus addressed the
bench;. "My lord, incompliance with your desire we
went back to our room ; but as we there found no reason
to alter our opinions of our verdict we return it to you in
the same words as before not guilty. We heard your
lordship's reproof; but we do not accept it as properly
applyingto us. Individually and in our private capaci- ,
ties, it is true, we are insignificant men; we'claim nothing,
out of this bo'x above the common tegard due to our hum-'
ble, yet honest stations, but my lord, assembled here as a
jury, we cannot be insensible of the great importance of
the office we now sustain. We feel glad that we are ap-
pointed, as you are, by the law and the constitution, and
only-'to act impartially between the king and subjects, but
HBjSciSq! barrier of the people, against the possible m-
uencprejud ice or corruption of the bench; to which
we do not wish to otter the smallest degree of disrespect,
much loss of insult; ye pay it the respect which one tri- "
bunal should pay to another, for the common honor of--'"1
both. This jury did not accuse the bench of partiality or
oppression no, we looked upon it as the sapctuary oE,
truth and justice ; still my lord, we cannot erace from our. -?
minds the records By them we were taught that kfngs
and judges are but fallible mortals, and that the seat of
justice has been pollqted by a Tresiliant, a Scroogs, and
a Jeffrey." The judge frowned at these words but the
intrepid juror thus preceded, " My lord, I am but a poor
man, yet I am a freeborn subjpet and a member of thecon.-
1
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Cruger & Moore. Telegraph and Texas Register (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 7, No. 4, Ed. 1, Wednesday, January 12, 1842, newspaper, January 12, 1842; Houston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth48165/m1/1/: accessed May 21, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.