| T::E CONSTITUTIONAL UNION.
ff. H. RHEA, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. _The Constitution, the Union, and the Enforcement of the Laws,_$2 PER ANNUM, IN ADYANCE.
VOL. L DES ARC, ARKANSAS, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1861. NUMBER 14.
5hc (Eoiwtitiitumal Pinion,
PRINTED EVERT WEEK, AT
Dcs A r* c , Arkansas,
EDITED AND PUBLISHED BY
WESTON IT. RHEA.
Office on corner of Buena Ylsla and Lyon Streets, over
John Jackson & Co.
I —
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cordingly
OFITCIA DIIIECTOHV.
OFFICFN* OF FIUIRIL tOl\Tl.
COUNTY AND PROBATE JUDGE,
James L. II unt,
CLF.RK,
WILLIAM GOODRUM.
SHERIFF,
WILLIAM A. PLUNKETT.
TREASURER,
WYLIE LANKFORD.
COKOV'lR,
LEVIN HARRISON.
SURVEYOR,
E. A. HOWELL.
COMMON SCHOOL COMMISSIONER,
W. P. PRESTON.
INTERNAL IMPROVEMENT COMMITTEE,
B E N J A M I N F A W 0 E T.
JUSTICES OF THE PEACE.
I Prairie—F. Coulter, E. L. Beard. B. V. Smith,
James Glover.
Caroline—G. M. Connor, W. K. Dobbins, James
Knight. Wm. Donnell. S.Cozart. W.C. llobinson.
! Pigeon Jloont—Aser l’ipkin, Y. D. Robinson.
White Hirer—11. P. Vaughan, T. B. Kent, L. C.
Rcrabert, D. I*. Black.
Ccn er—S. C. Paine. B. Douglass.
Watt mean-—W. A. W. Mann, W. J. McCombs.
Hamilton—T, M. Gray, J. Tucker.
Rich Wood*—T. F. Price. W. R. Brantly.
Clear Lake—Guinn Barber. James T. Morris.
La Grew—T. M. Belcher, Thomas Harville.
C O A S T A 15 I, E S .
Prairie—Q. T. Webster; Cni'er—J. D. Steele;
Carolto*—R. II. Frceling; Hamilton—E, Jarvis:
Pigeon Ron*!—W A. Harper: White Hirer—C T. :
Oldham: Rich Wood*—W. A. Barker; Wattenxaw—
John Gales.
Constables of Clear Lake and La Grew Town
ships failed to fill their bonds.
---
kte A M HO A rrS.
LEAVES MEMPHIS EVERY TUESDAY.
Memphis, nhite and Eiltle Red
River Packet,
A d m iral;
ELIAS TIIOMASSON, - - - - Master.
nuns FINE FREIGHT AND PASSENGER
L steamer, having been thoroughly repaired,
will run regularly between Memphis and the vari
ous points on White river throughout the season,
arriving at Des Arc on Thursday evenings on her
up trip, and down on Friday evenings. I or freight
vr passage, apply on board. jttf> IL 01-tt
Regular \evv Orleans, W§ hite and
Lillie Red River Packet,
Hldc-WTiecl Steamer
I A T A N|
II. S. EATON,.Master.
rpilIS FINE FREIGHT AND PASSENGER
L packet having been furnished with cotton
guards, and otherwise repaired, will run between
;\ew Orleans amt the various points on twine
river, (luring the season, as a semi-monthly
packet. _ nov 23-tf
LEAVES MEMPHIS EVERY TUESDAY.
Memphis and White lll%er Racket,
GOLDEN STATE,
IIICKS KING,.Master
J. B. Russell, - - - Clerk.
rnins splendid passenger steamer
1 will make regular trips from Memphis to Des
Are, Augusta and Jackson port, on White river.
For freight or passage, apply on board.
J>E8 ARC
MALE ACADEMY,
T. BL 0SB03NE, Principal.
THE FIRf^ SESSION OF THIS ACADEMY,
located in Des Arc, Prairie county, Arkansas,
commenced January 7, 1801.
The terms of Tuition are $10, $12,50, $15 and
$20 per session of five months.
The government of the Academy will be strict,
yet mild. The mode of teaching will be strictly
methodical. Parents will observe that it will be
of great advantage to their sons to be entered at
or near the beginning of the session. Parents or
guardians need not enter their sons or wards un
less subjecting them entirely to the mode of
instruction and of government established in the
school.
Tuition payable from the time of entering till
the end of the session. Deduction in cases of
prolonged sickness. jy-18-y
IIU8IAE88 CA«1)W.
J. M. OOOOIN. D. C. TRADER. B. W. L. HOLT.
GOGGIN, TRADER & HOLT,
Cjtton and Tobacco Factors,
GROCERS,
FORWARDING AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS)
Xo. 16 Front Row, MEMPHIS, TENN.
Weekly accession's received through
out the season to their already large and
desirable stock of Tobacco, Bagging. Hope, Su
gar. Coffee, Molasses, Dacoh, Salt, Whisky, Flour,
and Plantation Supplies generally. Will Store
Cotton, Leaf Tobacco and other Produce in our
commodious Warehouse on Union Street, in sight
of their business house. No. 16 Front Row. We
Store and Sell Cotton at 75c per bale. no 30-3m
EXCELSIOR STOVE WORKS!
GILES F FILLEY,
MANUFACTURER OF
Charter Oak, Plymoth Rock, & Valley Forge
Cooking Stoves!
Also, every variety of
PARLOR, BOX & CAXXOX STOVES,
1*5*5 and 157 Ain In Street,
dec 7-tf_ST. LOUIS. MISSOURI,
H0FFHEIMER BROTH?RS,
IMPORTERS AND DEALERS IN
Brandies, Gins, Wines, Cigars, &c.,
ALSO,
DISTILLERS k MANUFACTURERS OF
Domestic Wines and Liquors,
32 k 34 Second St., betw. Main & Sycamore,
nov 23-tf, CINCINNATI, O.
F. LEPTIEN, ... • F. KLEIN.
LEPTEIN <fc KLEIN,
DEALERS IN
CLOCKS, WATCHES and JEWELRY,
Buena Vista 8treet,
DKS ARC, ARKANSAS.
H aving on hand a new and selected
Stork of riork« nr.l Towolrv
respect fully solicit a continuance of the kind pat
ronage of the people of Des Arc and surrounding
country. We are also prepared to do all kinds of
Watch, Clock and Jewelry work with care and
despatch. All work warranted. dec 7-tf
B. D. PERRY, - - J. M. PETTEY.
PERRY 6c PETTEY,
South Side of ISuena Vista Street,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
Dealers in staple, fancy, foreign
and Domestic Dry-Goods, Ready-Made Clo
thing. Hats and Caps. Boots and Shoes. Hardware
and Cuttlery. Quccnsware. etc. Also, a complete
assortment of Fancy Silks. Ribbons. Trimmings
and fancy articles of every description.
All kinds of goods, by the piece, at wholesale
prices. dec 7-tf
GARVIN, BELL 6c CO.,
IMPORTERS A WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
FOREIGN & DOMESTIC DRY-GOODS,
AND
Mil nufaeturers uf ciotlilng.
Nos. 442 and 444 Main Street, north side,
nov 10 f.m. LOUISVILLE, KY.
E. o V 'tlTON, - - - F. A. PRAGUE.
E. » . \ O U T OX &. CO,,
Foi l ling & Commission Merchants
AND DEALERS IS
FLOUR, GRAIN and PRODUCE,
>'o. tSO Front Row,
dec 14-2m_MEMPHIS. TENN.
II. C. M’CARLEY, SAM I.. R. BROWN, THOS. M CARLEY.
McCARLEl, BROWN, A CO.,
(Successors to R. C. Me Car Icy .$• Co.,)
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Dealers in staple and fancy dry
Goods, Ilcady-MaJc Clothing, Hats. Caps,
Boots and Shoes, Hardware, Cutlery, Saddles,
Trunks and Valises. Also, Forwarding and Com
mission Merchants. feb 15, ’61-tf.
F. M. ROBINSON, - -- -- - O. J. BRANCH.
ROBINSON 6c BRANCH,
(Successors to G. W. Vaden,)
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN
Groceries and Produce,
RECEIVING, FORWARDING & COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
nov?,. DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
O. Bt’LAREN..*• N. JACKSON.
M LAREN 6c JACKSON,
Successors to G. & J. McLaren & Co.,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Dealers in staple and fancy dry
Goods, llcady-Madc Clothing, Hats and
Taps, Ronnets, Roots and Shoes, Hardware and
Cuttlery, Rooks, Stationery, etc. Also, Receiving,
Forwarding and Commission Merchants, nov 3.
DES ARC HOTEL,
BV J. C. TABIIXTOX,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Having leased this well-arranged
Hotel, the proprietor respectfully informs
travelers and the public generally, that he has com
pletely renovated the premises, and is prepared
to accommodate all who may favor.him ovith their
pntronage. If unremitted care anfl attention will
secure the favor of all, he isdeternrined to please.
CIIA RGBS REASON A RLE.
pvjy- The Bar attached to thie House is supplied
with the best of Liquors and Cigars. nov 3.
A. STEWART, WM. STEWART, H. STEWAItT.
STEWART Sc BROS,
Receiving, Forwarding
AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
nov 3. DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
COERCION OR NOT COERCION!
millS IS TO INFORM ALL THOSE WHO ARE
I owing me, either by note or account, to come
forward by the 28th of February next and pay
up.or they will have to pay the same to an officer.
Money I must have to pay my debts. A word to
the wise is sufficient.
janl8-tf] _JNO. A. FRITH.
LOOK SHARP!
A LL PERSONS INDEBTED TO ME, EITHER
J\_ by note or account, will come up by the 1st.
of January next and pay me, or they will be put
in the hands of an officer for collection.
dec7~tf GEO. W. VADEN.
E X C E L LENT PLOWS
WE HAVE JUST RECEIVED A LARGE
quantity of the best Cast Plows, which w<
offer cheap. nov 3. J. J At KSON & CO.
SEEDS! SEEPS!!
A LARGE LOT OF FRESH HUNGARIAN
Grass Seeds, just received and for sale by
nov. fi JOHN JACKSON & CO.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
T. J. JOBE,
Attorney at Law,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
WILL PRACTICE IN PRAIRIE AND TIIE
adjoining counties, l'artieluiir attention
given to Collections.
References.—T. J. & C. Powell, Knoxville,
Tenn.; Tlios. II. Callaway, President of Ocoee
Rank, Cleveland. Tenn.; Moore &. Marsh, Chatta
nooga. Tenn.; Hon. John H. Lumpkin, Rome, Ga.;
Hon. William Daugherty, Columbus, Ga.; Hon.
Joseph T. McConnell, Ringgold, Ga.: William H.
Inman, President Northwestern Rauk, Ringgold,
Georgia. nov 3.
T. B. KENT,
Attorney at Law,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
WILL PRACTICE IN THE COURTS OF
Prairie, White. Monroe, Arkansas, St.
Francis, Jackson and Independence counties. All
business intrusted to his care shall meet with
prompt attention. Office on Lyon street. no23-tf.
Ur. a. J. LANE,
Resident Physician,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
TENDERS HIS SERVICES TO THE CITIZENS
of Des Arc and adjacent country. From
his experience, he hopes to share at least a por
tion of the patronage of the public. Office on
Ruena Vista street, at Ralsly’s Drug Store, jy-y
T. SANDERS, - J. L. NEEL.
DRS. SANDERS & NEEL,
Resident Physicians,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Having formed a partnership in
the practice of their profession, tender a
continuation of their services to the citizens of
Des Arc and adjacent country. Office, up stairs,
corner Ruena Vista and Woodruff streets, nov 3
E. T. ISWEYER,
Dentist,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
TTTILL CONTINUE THE BUSINESS IN ALL
\V its branches, including continuous Gum
Work. Office on Buena Vista street, up stairs,
jacKson s new Duiiuing. nov 10-u.
RUSS evansT"
REAL ESTATE & GENERAL LAND AGENT.
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Prompt attention will be given to
all business entrusted to him in his
line. nov 3.
J.T. P A R HAM,
Architect and Builder,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
SOLICITS CONTRACTS FOR BUILDINGS OF
O every style. He is also prepared to furnisli
Designs, Estimates and Drawings of all the mod
ern orders of architecture; build, superintend
and furnish working plans for building at mode
rate prices. Orders left at the “Citizen Office,”
will receive prompt attention. nov 3-y
DR. H. ARMISTEAD,
Physician, Surgeon and Accoucheur,
DES ARC. ARKANSAS.
Having permanently located at
DES ARC, offers bis professional services
to the citizens of the town and adjacent country.
Office on I.yon street. nov 3.
E. S. HAMMOND,
Attorney at Law,
O' FF1CE: TFI.FGR VPH BUILDING. NORTH
Side Court Square,
jay 18-if. MFM HIS. TFNN
T. J. WOODSON,
Attorney at Law,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
AyHLI. ri: u TICE IN THE FIFTH JUDICIAL
\Y Circa. .ltd the counties of White, Jack
son and Monroe. All business intrusted to his
care will be promptly attended to. nov 3
C. A. JUDSON,
Carpenter and Joiner,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
Dealer in sasii, doors, mantles,
Window and Door Frames, etc. Shop corner
Erwin and Park Streets. N. B.—Coffins made to
order, on short notice. nov 3-y
A. W. MCNEILL,
Attorney at Law,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
PRACTICES IN THE COURTS OF PRAIRIE
and adjacent counties. Office, corner Erwin
and Lyon streets. nov 3
D ES A R C
FEMALE ACADEMY,
MISS SALLIE A. DAVIS, Principal.
ITIIIS INSTITUTION WILL BE OPENED ON
_ Monday next, the 2(jth inst., for the recep
tion of pupils.
TERMS OF TUITION, PER SESSION OF TWENTT-ONF.
WEEKS.
Orthography. Reading and Writing, - - $10 00
English Grammar. Arithmetic, Geography, 12 00
Algebra and the higher English branches, 15 00
French and the higher Mathematics, - - 20 00
Students will be charged from the time of enter
ing school until the close of tire term, except in
cases of protracted sickness.
References.—Rev. J. Douglass, A. M., Presi
dent of Franklin College. Holly Springs, Miss.;
Hon. J. J. Steger, North Mt. Pleasant, Miss.; Col.
M. I). Shelby, Carson’s Landing, Miss.; J. E.
Gatewood, Esq., T. J. Woodson, Des Arc.; J. M.
Coyle, Hickory Plain, Arkansas. nov23-2m
STOVE AND TIN SHOP!
X. II. Burk
Has removed iiis tin shop to the
house recently occupied by J. W. Wallace,
on Buena Vista street, opposite the Nucleus
House, where he is prepared to accommodate the
public with the best articles of
COOKING STOVES, TIN-WARE,
and all other merchandise in his linn, ever
brought to this market.
My cooking stoves aveimmefl • .yfrom alargi
St. Louis establishment, and I lcel confident that
those who want these convenient articles can suit
themselves from my large assortment. Give mt
a call, and examine before purchasing else
where. nov3
POETICAL.
THE BA TTLE OF MOB TEHEY.
Tennyson’s Balaklava Song “Charge of the Six
Hundred,” is famous enough; but Hoffman’s
poem on the Battle of Monterey, is infinitely
superior to it in almost everything that consti
tutes poetry :—
AA’e were not many—we who stood
Before the iron sleet that day,
Yet many a gallant spirit would
Give half his years, if he could
Have been with us at Monterey!
Now here, now there, the shot is hailed
In deadly drifts of fiery spray,
Yet not a single soldier quailed,
AV'hen wounded comrades round him wailed
Their dying shouts at Monterey !
And on, still on, our column kept
Thro’ walls of flame its withering way;
AA'here fell the dead the living stept,
Still charging on the guns which swept
The slippery steps of Monterey!
The foe himself recoiled aghast,
AVhen, striking where he strongest lay,
AAre swooped his flanking batteries past.
And braving fuil their murderous blast,
Stormed home the towers of Monterey !
Our banners on those turrets wave,
And there our evening bugles play,
AA’here orange boughs above their grave
Keep green the memory of the brave
AVho fought and fell at Monterey 1
AVe are not many—we who press’d
Beside the brave who fell that day ;
But who of us has not confessed
He’d rather share their warrior rest
Than not have been at Monterey !
THE BRIDAL WREATH.
Fair fragile flowers! She will not deem
AA'ho wears this wreath to-night, a bride,
That with your sweets I've wove a dream
Of early love that early died.
These fragrant stems of trembling grain
Have waked a grief that long had slept;
And tears have dropped these blooms between,
And sighs within their petals crept.
She will not know it; she will smile
To see the sparkles fresh and clear,
And kiss jway the sighs the while,
And bless their perfume many a year.
Thus let it be: and evermore
This spicy scent to her be sweet
AVith happy mem’ries—hallowed love,
Of marriage vows, and love complete.
■ But unto me, dear! this balm
Must ever breathe of loss—of thee;
And of the lonely brooding calm
That settle's down childhood’s sea.
Sleep, sister, sleep! The solemn years
Above thee pass in circles slow;
While sadder griefs, and sins, and fears,
O’ershadow life with sorer woe.
Yet will I hope! Through mist and night
My soul looks up and sees afar
, The glimmering, widening, dazzling light!
Where pales the sun, and melts each star.
Is this the breath of asphodels,
With heavenly peace and sweetness rife?
Up from these blooms strange fragrance wells!
I dream of death. 1 wake to life.
THE SECOND PLAYER;
OK
Wear ami Tear ofan Actor's TAfe.
BY CHABLES DICKENS.
I said I would tell you my story. Well, to
begin. I was born in this town of Burnton,
something less than sixty years ago. My
father was a small tradesman, and sent me to
the best school lie could afford till I was a
little over thirteen, i used to recite on the
public days in the school, and repeat Latin
and Creek orations, of which the meaning
• o
was not a little obscure even to me; what
it must have been to my hearers I don’t
know. My father took me away from the
shop. He was a tailor. It worried me to
death to sit hour alter hour, stitch, stitch,
stitch; and I used to beguile the time by re
citing and reading to the few men my father
employed, and they did my share of the
work in return fur the amusement I afforded
them.
At the age of fifteen I took part in some
private theatricals in the town, and found the
bustle of preparation much more pleasant
than the dull shop work. J he. went oft well,
and when next the player ■ a:e to the town,
i went to the manager and a. soil him to take me.
lie laughed, for i was lit for nothing. Of
course I was too big for a page, and too little
for a man-at-arms; too young for a first, sec
ond, or even third lover; and too old for any
accidental boy parts. I was disappointed,
but I soon had to leave the then detested shop.
My father was of rather a serious turn. lie
heard of my going to the manager, and locked
me up, then about sixteen, and fed me on
bread and water. This was rather too bad,
so I took French leave, and when the bread
and water came one morning, there was no
one to eat it. I was rdeased to find mvself
with a pair of socks and a clean shirt wrapt
up in a handkerchief, about to lace the world,
and try to wring the hard-held honors from
stern fortune’s head. Still, I was young then.
I need scarcely tell you that sitting here I
often regretted that line May morning’s work
that took me from home.
I went to one town after another, and at
each sought out the manager of the theater,
and tried to get in as anything. It was no
use; my voice was not yet set or certain.
“ Why, young sir,” said one to me, u you arc
as slim as a girl, and if you were to make
love in the tone you’ve been talking to me,
the people would insist that I had made a
girl play the lover’s part. I’d take you, but
you are no use to me at all; two years hence
y ou may come again, and 1 may talk to you.”
I lelt it was true, but still wanted to be in
a theater, so 1 entered a traveling circus com
pany as holder and ring-maker. 1 kept at it
for eighteen months, and then the manager
joined another in the regular acting line. Now
was my chance. They wanted a lover, and
wanted him to ride; their first lover could no
more sit on a horse than a sack could ; the
first lady saw him once, and said she should
die with laughter if he came on, so 1 offered.
I did well, and thought I was on the road to
fortune; I felt that Kemble and the rest of
the great actors were only the same man as
I was, with better chances. That is more
than forty years ago, though. I’m wiser now.
After this success I became first gentleman
in that company, and remained so for many
years. The manager took the leading parts,
so I had no chance. I had changed my name,
first, as Gowling did not look well on the bill,
and next, because I did not want to hurt my
poor old father's feelings more than I could
help—1 took the name of Alphonsus Mon
tague. It looked well on the bills, I used to
think at one time. Somebody, I forget who,
says, “ What’s in a name ?” I know there
is a good deal in a name when it’s on the play
bills ; and the public being judge. Alphonsus
Montague was better than James Gowling,
for it drew better houses.
In the company there was a young girl who
took second lady. I dou’t say I fell in love
with her; I don’t think men of our class do
fall in love. The constant exercising of the
imitative powers, in delineating the passion,
weakens, I think, the power of feeling it as
other men feel it. I liked her; she was good,
industrious, and rising in the profession, and
I married her. There never was a better wo
man lived, and she had her reward. I don’t
suppose that there ever was a woman more re
spected in any company. I never had even
a row about her but once, and then a man
had been very insolent to her; she came and
told me just as I came off as “ Macduff” in
Macbeth. I went to the manager and told
him that the man must leave the place at
once. The man said it was impossible ; he
was a son of the noble owner of half the
town ; his father was then in the house; these
things must be endured. I said that they
should not be endured, and that if he would
not protect the ladies in his company I should
take the liberty of protecting my wife.
“ And how did it end ?”
Why, I went to the little beast, titled as he
was, and kicked him out at the stage door. I
did, sir, though you would not think it to
look at me now.”
“ And the manager ?”
Came and thanked me. Said he was much
obliged to me ; he had had more annoyance
from the complaints of the girls about that
fellow than any other cause. He raised mine
and my wife’s salary that same week.
We went on very well for some time. I
began to find that 1 was not a star. Once or
twice I went up to London and heard some
of the best men, and found that I could not
equal them. I don’t know a more painful
sensation, sir, than that attendant on the dis
covery of the limits of your powers. Every
man, not blinded by conceit, who is over
thirty, must have felt this. There is a limit
to our powers; other men have more—some
less, but still it is very painful to feel con
scious that the eminence that man has attain
ed to whom you are listening is beyond you.
Young men—very young men—feel conscious
that what man has done they can do. It does
not last Most men at thirty know their
pace well enough to tell them that they will
be in the ruck of the wheel of life.
Well, some few years after I was married,
the conviction came to me ; I knew I could
never be a star—a great actor. It was notin
tup T i*PtiriPPtjiV»]p nnp 1 PmiM
I J 1
tuke any part, and do that so well that I was
not laughed at; but there I was stopped. I
could go no further. I could never raise the
enthusiasm of my audience. They listened
and did not disapprove ; but when I played
a leading part, the boxes did not let and the
pit was not full. I could not help it, you
know. 1 can safely say I never went on
without knowing every word of my part. 1
was always correct, and in the second and
third parts did well. Stars liked me. They
used to come down for benefits occasionally,
and used to say, ‘‘Let me have Cowling with
me ; lie's a safe man—never too forward—-no
clap-trap with him ; lie’s not showy, but he's
safe.” Now, you see, praise is a good thing,
but when a man has dreamed for ten years or
so that he is to be a star in the theatrical
world, it is rather hard to wake up and find a
star of no very great magnitude telling him
he's a very good background to show that
star’s light. Ah 1 me—those days of youth
—how’ the large bud brings forth the little
flower.
“ Still, Mr. Gowling, it was something not
to have failed utterly. There must be back
grounds, you know, and there must be second
parts as well as first.”
True, sir, true; and human nature soon
adapts itself to circumstances. Three months
after I knew I was no genius, the ambition to
be one left me. 1 had four children—three
boys and one girl. That's her child—poor
little thing.” And he stroked the head of
little Alice caressingly, while she played with
the buttons on his coat.
The boys, of course, we tried to make use
ful in the profession. Christmas was a family
harvest; all were busy then—all making mo
ney. You know' that the profession is not fa
vorable to health. The excitement—particu
larly to children—soon wears them out. 1
know often and often, I’ve seen my boys as
imps and that kind of thing, and felt the life
was too fast for them. Late at night, to go
from the hot theater into the cold night was a
sad trial to the constitution; and children are
not old men. You cannot persuade boys of
twelve and fourteen that they ought to wrap
their throats and not run out into the cold at
night. Wo could not and we lost two of the
three boys w'ithing a year ol each other.
Lung diseases, the doctor said. It carries of!
a good many of these children, you see, in
the Christmas pantomimes. 1 often wonder
whether the house thinks of those kind of
things.
“ And the other ehildren ?”
The boy left our company when he was
about eighteen, and joined another as second
gentleman. He was as good an actor as his
father and no better, lie thought he was a
genius, poor boy, as his father had thought
before him. He had no experience to teach
him, as he thought he was ill-used, and left me.
“ And what became of him ?”
At first we used to hear from him now and
then ; there was a long silence, and his moth
er worried herself dreadfully about him. One
night I had been playing acountry gentleman
in a screaming farce, as the bills called it; for
in a small company you are a king, a warrior,
and a fool—all in one evening; so my wife
had gone home, and when I arrived, came to
the door and let me in.
“ Don’t be frightened, dear, here’s Alfred
come back.”
I went up, and there he was; but what a
wreck ! His eyes bloodshot, his hand trem
bling, and a hot, red spot on his check.
“ Well, father, how are you?”
I did not answer; I sat down and cried,
He tried hard to keep from it, but he could
not; he came and knelt down in front of me,
covered his face with his hand, and cried like
a child. His mother, poor soul, clung round
his neck and kissed him, and cried till I was
beside myself. He told his story. He had
made a mistake. He thought himself a great
actor. Managers did not; the public backed
the managers, and they were right, too. He
could not stand the disappointment; had no
wife, as his father had, to console him, and he
took to the actor’s curse—drink. He sank
lower and lower, became ill, could do nothing,
and just crawled home to die.
One night, I had just come off, when I
was told some one wanted me at the stage
door. I went and found the girl of the house
where he lodged. She wanted me to come
home directly; I was wanted at once. Mr.
Alfred was very ill. Our manager had his
benefit that night, and we had one of the first
rate London men down as “ Hamlet.” I was
dressed as the “ Ghost.” I forgot about my
dress then, and rushed home; it was too late
—poor Alfred was gone ! He lay his head
on his mother’s arms ; she was dressed as the
i
“ Queen,” and was weeping hot, silent tears,
that fell on my boy’s face, one by one. His
sister was sunk on her knees by the bedside,
as I entered, and the people of the house
were standing looking on. I shall never for
get it—never.
I was roused by a touch on the shoulder.
A message from the theater.
“ Manager says he should be glad if you
could come back.”
Look here, Jennings, do you think I can ?
“ Not to do anything, sir, but you might
see him ; perhaps it would be better.”
I left them, and went back, saw the mana
ger and told him ; and though it was his ben
efit night, he said he would read both parts
himself.
“ I am sorry for you, very sorry; if I can
do anything for you, let me know.”
We buried the poor boy, and then went on
as before. His mother never recovered the
brow, but gradually sunk, and about six
months after his death could no longer take
her parts; so Alice and I had to do our best.
1 noticed that a young fellow had been rather
attentive to her, and was not surprised when
he took me aside that night, and told me he
wanted to make her his wife. He was just
such another as I had been myself when at
his age. I thought it better to see her the
wife of a respectable actor than remain single
behind the scenes, for she was a good girl.
Well, they married and remained in the com
pany. I was getting old, you see, then, and
it was some comfort to see her with some one
to take care of her. Soon after she married
her mother died, and I laid in the grave be
side her son one of the best women that ever
lived. I was alone now, and old, for the wear
and tear of an actor’s life, and the late hours,
tell on the strongest constitution. It was
something awful, the change from the light
and glare and noise of the theater to the si
lence and quiet of my own poor room. Just
then, too, the company was broken up, and,
at the age I was then, it was a serious thing
for me. We all three tried to keep together,
but it was no use. Those who wanted an old
man did not want a second lady or a third old
gentleman, and so we were divided. I went
on circuit as an old man with very poor pay,
as much as I was worth, though, i dare say,
for I was getting feeble, and “ Speak up, old
’un 1” was the salute I heard from the guile
. j:_...I., r _j ..if
iivo X XliJ illUUbli.
I heard from Alice every week, and saved
her letters for Sundays, for the day was long
j and dull to me. I could not make new friends.
The young pitied me, and I was proud then,
and ‘loved not pity;’ so I was a lonely man.
Alice’s husband died. I don’t remember
now how it was, but he died, and she told me
how it was, how he died, and she told it was
just after this little one was born. I quite
lunged to see her, but she could not come, and
I could not come, and I could not go, so we
wrote to each other. I have all her letters
now, poor girl. She came to see me once af
terward, and was looking ill and fagged; and
soon after that our company was broken up
again.
I tried hard to get a new engagement, trav
eled from place to place, spent all the little
I had saved, and then was laid up at a place
some fifty miles from here. They took me
from the inn to the Union when the money
was gone; and after a deal of waiting and
grumbling they brought me here. I little
thought, when, a boy. I used to get the nests
out of this tree, that I should end my days
here, an old, worn-out pauper. You know
where it says : “ There’s a divinity that shapes
our ends, rough-hew them as we may.” I
often said that on the stage. I feel it now.”
And the old man mused in silence.
“ And your daughter ?”
Alice ? She died in this house not two
years ago, poor child 1
“ Here, do you mean ?”
“ Yes, there, in that room.” And he
pointed to I window in the back part of the
house. “ That one where the sun shines on
it through the trees.”
“ Of what did she die ? She was young.”
Of the same disease that carried off her
brother—consumption. She knew I was here,
and spent her last money in coming, and the
doctor, good fellow as he is, would have her
in here. She lingered on for about a fort
night up there, then died one evening at sun
set, holding my hand, and the child lying on
her breast. Poor child ! she looked so beau
tiful in her coffin. Ahl I've outlived them
all but this little one.” And the old man
looked fondly on the child and stroked her
head with his lean, shriveled hand. “Its
rather sad to see them all gone—all—wife—
sons—and Alice—all gone. Poor Alice !”
And the old pauper’s eye3 were full of the
slow-coming tears of age.
-^ m ^ -
Tiie Lover’s Pride.—I believe there is
no period of life as that in which a thriving
lAtTAw Iaoitao Ilia lAieti-Aoc nftor lno fil’d
His joy is more perfect than at the first abso
lute moment of his own eager vow and her
half-assenting blushes. Then he is thinking
mostly of her, and is in a certain degree em
barrassed by the efforts necessary for success.
But when the promise has once been given
to him. and he is able to escape into the do
main of his own heart, he is a conqueror who
has mastered half a continent by his own
strategy. It never occurs to him, he hardly
believes, that his success is no more than that
which is the ordinary lot of mortal man. He
never reflects that all the old married fogies
whom he knows and despises have just as
much ground for pride, if such were endur
ing ; that every fat, silent, dull, somnolent,
old lady whom he sees and quizzes has at
some period been deemed as worthy a prize as
his priceless galleon, and so deemed by as bold
a captor as himself. Some one has said that
every young mother, when her first child is
born ^regards the babe as the most wondertul
production of that description, which the
world has yet seen. And this, too, is true.
But I doubt whether that conviction is so
strong the conviction of the successful
lover, that has achieved a triumph which
should ennoble him down to later generations.
m m ^ -
Children's Prayers.—The following
specimens of childish oddity are furnished by
an exchange:
“ A little boy, kneeling at his mother's
knee to say his evening prayer, asked leave
to pray in his own words, and, with a child
like simplicity, said: “ ‘Jod bless Ihtlc W illie,
aud don’t let the house burn up—God bless
papa and mamma—God bless me and make
my boots go on easy in the morning.”
Another, in a moment of contrition, ad
dressed his prayers as follows: “0 Lord,
bless Georgie, and make him a good boy;
and don’t let him be naughty again—never,
no, never; because, you, you know, when he
is nanghty, he sticks to it so !”
A negro being caught stealing from a hen
roost, excused himself by saying that he only
came darto see if “dey sleepwiddar eyes open.”
“DOH'T CRY, TOMMY."
BT J. BOMBER, JR,
“ Don’t cry, Tommy ! There’s two pieces
of bread at home: you may have one and I
will have the other, and then we ll go to
sleep!"
Such, my friends, were the words of a little
barefooted boy to his younger brother, as they
tearfully hied past me, one bleak day in chill
November, 18—. The speaker was a lad of
apparently eight summers. Upon his brow,
manly beyond his ears, there dwelt an unmis
takable indication of better days, and gentle
birth. Not a trace of squalid misery was
there, such as greets the eye at every turn
among this world’s poor. A tidy little jacket,
with remnents of embroidery yet visible—
sadly patched and mended, ’tis true—covered
his slight shoulders; while a threadbare and
faded pair of trowsers of the same material
encompassed his lower extremities. Hisirtiad
was surmounted by what was once a jaunty
little cap; but yet he was. as I before re
marked, barefooted—ay, barefooted—upon a
chill November morn 1
“Don’t cry, Tommy 1” The words were
spoken with a cheerful, yet tearful tenderness;
and the little fellow gently wound his arm
around his companion’s slender neck, as he
whispered those words of childish consolation.
Something in the tones of that voice (or was
it the guardian angel of that tiny pair who
whispered in my ear ?) startled me from my
reverie, and 1 looked anxiously after the re
ceding figures ?
“ Poor child !’’ I mused; “ and has it come
to this? Not always was it so!”
Anon my mind pictured to its vision a grace
ful vine-covered cottage with beautiful sur
roundings, while on the grass-plot in front
gamboled two blooming boys, in all the play
ful glee of innocent childhood, overlooked by
two as fond parents as ever the impartial sun
shone upon in the course of his endless jour
neyings.
“Don’t cry, Tommy 1” My God ! it must
be—the remembrance is too unmistakable,
though changed—alas! so changed! They
were the orphan children of the friend of my
boyhood—the friend who, two years agone,
breathed his last in my arms, far, far away,
upon the arid plains leading to the modern
El Dorado!
“ Poor Tom’s a cold!” His bones lie bleach
ing in a foreign land, and his wife and chil
dren, too frail to brave the storms of Life, are
now tnrown upon tne corn cnariues oi tne
world—shipwrecked wanderers over the dis
mal ocean of remorseless Poverty! My God!
—my God ! it must not be !
“ Don’t cry, Tommy !” The words rang in
my ears like the echoes of despair, and welled
up to my very soul with a mysterious cadence,
which at once demanded my pity and com
miseration. What pathos was there ! W’hat
tenderness ! What a spirit of manliness was
exhibited by those simple words, emanating
from childhood’s bosom ! Was I dreaming?
No, no !—awake and alive to the whisperings
of man’s better nature. A pale figure seemed
to start up before me and those suffering lit
tle ones, bending on its melancholy eyes, and
pointing toward their tiny forms with an ex
pression of sorrow and reproof! of my departed
friend ! With voice, sad and solemn as the
tomb, it seemed to whisper:
“Bomber! as thou lovest me—leave them
not to suffer!”
Peace to thy name, my friend ! henceforth
thy children no more shall cry for bread.
“ Don’t cry, Tommy !” Ye, to whom the
morn brings happiness, and evening peace—
to whom Comfort is a fireside guest, and Sor
row as a poor relation, is there no forlorn
brotherman hailing you by the wayside of Life,
demanding and claiming your kind sympathy?
Turn not the deaf ear, O pampered child of
Luxury !—Fortune is fickle goddess ! Thou
hast a cherub child, a living companion be
neath thy palatial mansion—death may meet
thee at thy threshold, demanding thy wife as
his victim—riches may take wings and fly
away—the morrow’s sun may find thy loved
one begging of the world for bread! Hast
thou no mite wherewith to dry the mourner’s
tears? None!
“Don’t cry, Tommy!” Sweet words of
cheering comfort! When the storms of Ad
versity beat thick and fast against the shrink
ing life-pilgrim’s breast, when Gloom en
shrouds his soul within its sombre mantle;
when no cheering voice of Friendship, no
brightsome smile of Sympathy, no tender hand
of Charity is extended to raise him from the
Slough of Despond, then,—Oh ! then it is,
that his heart craves those things which the
world is loth to bestow—then it .is that he
looks to the high, high heavens and wonder
ing asks if they, too, like cold humanity, are
also devoid of pity !
“Don’t cry, Tommy !” The world is large
—“ the poor ye have always with you.”
Hush! how howl the bleak winds to-night!
flow fiercely comes down the storm! Thought
! tally you gaze into the sparkling grate, ana
! mentally thank the gods that against your
heart and your abode the storm-fiend may
wage in vain a warfare. List! Hearest thou
no wail amid the killings of the tempest ? Go
forth into the night, 6 child of Ease and
Comfort! there is work for thee adown your
narrow court 1 Want, grim Want, with sunk
en cheek and skeleton finger, sits by a bedside
in yonder dismal attic, holding in her fell em
brace. a form that was once a man like thee
—proud, wealthy, beautiful! Fortune frowned,
and here is he! Hast thou no words of cheer,
no well-filled purse, no golden guinea, no
homely penny, even, wherewith to dispel
Gloom from the poor man’s pall'd ? None?
Then God pity thee! And beware lest Ad
versity should beset thy pathway—friends and
fortune flee alike away from thy hearthstone,
and thou be left to howl thy impotent sorrow
to the deaf, cold world, with no kindly tongue
to whisper in thy despairing ear: “ Don’t cry,
Tommy!”
- mm m m - -
Happiness.—Tillotson truly says that man
counts happiness in a thousand shapes, and the
faster he follows it, the swifter it flies from
him. Almost everything premises happiness
to us at a distance—such a step of honor, such
a pitch of estate, such a fortune, or match for
a child—but when we come nearer to it, or it,
either we fall short of it, or it falls short of
our expectation, and it is hard to say which
of these is the greatest disappointment. Our
hopes are usually larger than the enjoyment
can satisfy; an evil long feared, besides that
it may never come, is many times more pain
ful and troublesome than the evil itself when
it comes.
- i m m .—
Quick Cure for Founder.—Clean out
the frog of the hoof. Let it be well cleansed
by scraping ofl all dirt, etc.—raise the foot so
as to bo level—pour spirits of turpentine, a
sufficient quantity so as not to run over the
1ioof; then set the turpentine on fire and let
it be entirely consumed. The above has been
tried and found a sure and certain cure.