1859-08-04 The Courant

THE COURANT, A Southern Literary Journal. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ HOWARD H. CALDWELL, EDITOR.] "Sic vos non vobis." [WM. W. WALKER, JR., & CO., PROPRIETORS. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ VOLUME I. COLUMBIA, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 4, 1859. NUMBER 14 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ For the Courant GEMS FROM THE DEAD. ----- BY LIZZIE CLARENDON. ----- "He giveth and He taketh."

To my beloved Teacher.

"Take this beauteous, budding flower, Place it in thy choicest bower,-- Guard it with the tenderest care From the chilling, nightly air; Shield it from the scorching breath Of the breeze that bringeth death! Its frail stems will bear their fruit If no spoiler touch the root; It will grow a mighty tree, And its shade will welcome thee To a toilless, calm repose, When life's winter 'round thee blows! Keep it there from harm and blight, Turn its petals to the Light, That its radiant hues may seem Portion of the heavenly beam. Take the floweret for thine own!" --Spake the Voice in kindly tone.

Bright within its natal bower, How it flourished from that hour! Softly sweet and purely fair, The tiny object of their care. Deeply grew it in their love, As its tendrils stronger wove! Soon its brilliant hues are seen Glancing through their verdant screen, Promise of the coming time When the floweret in its prime From its little, lowly bed Shall uplift its beauteous head, Calling from the passer-by Praise of wondering lip and eye. Are the beatuies their displayed For our changing seasons made? --When the storm-king conquering walks Leaflets perish on their stalks!

But--the Planter's tender love Did not from the flower remove, When he gently placed it here, 'Neath his under-gardeners' care, To be watched and nursed by them, Grafted on an earthly stem! And, when storms begin to rise, Dark'ning o'er the fading skies, Threat'ning rush of wind and hail On the bud so fair and frail, When along the dying heath, Coldly steals the hoar-frost's breath, And the silent snow-falkes fall Like a misty, hueless pall,-- He will kindly take it up Ere the dew within its cup, Touched by winter's lip, shall dart With an ice-pang through its heart!

"Lo! thy floweret frail and fair Earthly changes could not bear!-- In its young and glorious pride It shall flourish at my side; For, where storm nor cloud come, I will watch its deathless bloom! Rarest plants may not be placed In the open, airy waste; Kind and tender hands the rather, Gently the slight things must gather, Shielding them from heat and cold, That their beauties may unfold. In the Green-house of my care Is thy floweret, frail and fair,-- And when thy long spring shall come, I will take thee to its home!" --From the fadeless land above Spake the Voice in tender love. ------------------------------------------ For the Courant. MARY DUGAY. ----- "Questa fu rosa."

After a long and weary day of travel through the most strikingly picturesque of the mountain-scenery in North Carolina, my wife uttered an exclamation of rejoicing, and said-- "At last, I shall enjoy some repose. See! there is a large, stylish mansion; we shall spend the night here, shall we not?" I gave one look at our jaded horses, and recollecting the sparseness of the settlements in this part of the county, and considering the extreme fatigue of the two ladies who accompanied me, at once I decided to ask for shelter, under the roof of the truly magnificent building, which stood at the head of an elegantly arranged avenue of hemlocks and oaks. Upon our arrival at the gate, a gentleman who seemed to be about fifty-five or sixty, still hale and well-looking, hastily advanced to meet us. What was my surprise, (and pleasure too,) to recognize, as he drew near, Mr. Dugay, an old and valued friend of my father! As I had not met him for several years, he did not know me, but a word recalled me to his memory; he then saluted the ladies with the greatest bonhomwie, and invited us to enter. Mary Dugay! my old play-mate, the first female friend of my boyhood! In one of those rapid retrospections, which surprise always causes in a case like this, I went over, in thought, the delightful days of our childhood; the bright-eyed, sunny-haired child, by slow degrees, ripening into the beautiful, accomplished woman; then my college friend, Hamilton, whom I carried home with me to meet my fair playmate; my great desire that they should love each other--and then, the "lover's quarrels," which ended in a game of cross-purposes, which set Mary always half-mad, with love and jealousy, and made poor Hamilton meditate all sorts of desperate things. How I interfered, how they made friends, aye! how they became engaged to be married--and were happy in that hope, for a year or two; then, coldness--a quarrel, a breaking-off, and Hamiltons marriage with another--all these things flashed across my brain, in one fourth the time it takes me to tell them. I should see my old friend again--"old friend," I say--I was just twenty-five, and she was two years younger, but we had been friends from my eighth year, and in my fifth lustrum, I knew scarcely any change in my feeling towards her. Meanwhile, Mr. Dugay chatted with the ladies, and we reached the house. Mrs. Dugay and two daughters very soon entered the parlor, into which we had been ushered, and. and very cordially greeted my party--myself she treated as if I had been a son, returned from a long journey. But Mary--where was she? I saw that the family wore second mourning. I saw a perfect portrait of the beautiful playmate of my youth hanging over the mantle: I dared not ask for her. Mrs. Dugay, with the quickness of woman's intuition. comprehended me, and I was pained beyond measure, to see her eyes swimming in tears. Of course she was too perfectly self-possessed to speak on such a topic, in such a moment, and hastily turning to my wife, she began a conversation touching the commonplaces of travel, etc. Very soon, we were invited to our chambers, to enjoy the luxury of water and a change of clothes; which operations I performed in a sadly perplexed mood of mind, which, luckily, by dint of a few random remarks, I prevented my wife from observing. After a most invigorating supper, such as one can only find in the country residences of our betterclass in the South, we had a little music and a great deal of the stereotyped style of conversation, which is the inevitable result of bringing together people who know what their company may, and ought to, be, but who, of course, doubt as to their precise stamp of personality, and therefore carry on a general system of questions and observations, concerning persons who are more or less known to each party. Gossip of this kind very soon draws together the sympathies of females, and at an early hour of the evening our amiable hostess expressed the hope that we would spend a few days with her, and most regretfully suggested that, as we were fatigued, we had better retire. The ladies withdrew, and Mr. Dugay invited me to sit with him in the piazza, while we discussed "a good cigar." He warned my wife that we might be long there, as he had many things to relate to me: but a lawyer's wife is too well accustomed to "unavoidable engagements," to feel or express any dissatisfaction when a private consultation of this sort is proposed. The night was beautiful: the moon-light with a clear, transparent stream, flooded the sides of the distant mountains, and with perfect distinctness displayed the sublime outlines of that magnificent scene which spread before us. A foaming creek, which dashed along the side of the mountain, looked indeed like "the chord of silver" of the poet. Pervading all, like some mysterious spell, Silence, absolutely unbroken, and almost painful, intensified the effect of mountain and moon-light. For a few moments we sat silently contemplating this lovely picture, when, suddenly speaking, with a voice subdued by emotion, Mr. Dugay addressed me thus: "You are the son of my best friend, but I regard you with interest and affection from quite another reason: that need I tell you?--that is, because you were the true friend, always loving, and always loved by, my lost child --Mary!" "Then my surmises were correct," I interrupted. "Yes," he replied, "she is dead--three years have passed since we laid her, broken hearted, in an early grave." The strong man paused, and I saw that he was vainly endeavouring to suppress his emotion. "Oh boy, boy!" he cried, in a tremulous voice, "you think that you love that beautiful and angel-wife of yours; but I tell you, that is nothing to compare with the love which a father feels, who knows that his gentle, tender child is dying of a broken heart! I never knew it, never dreamed of the depth and bitterness of human affection, until I saw her pining and drooping, day by day; uncomplaining, she passed from earth, like some beautiful rose, when the autumn winds come. When I would attempt to arouse the scorn in her nature, she would reply in the gentlest manner, 'It was not his fault;' and again sink into the fatal reverie, which stole away her life. "I need not tell you, who know it all, how Mary met young Hamilton, at your father's house. Her letters to me, confidential and most minute, detailed the means by which she was prepared to love your friend. Your mother esteemed him for his many excellencies of char------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

106 THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ acter, your father admired his talents, while you, loved him as if he had been your brother. Mary had heard his praises constantly, and from whom? From the best friend of her father, the school-companion of her mother, and from the 'foster-brother,' (as she called you,) whom she loved next to her own sisters; indeed, as she had no brother, you were the only person who ever filled that place in her heart; of your tender, fraternal feeling for her, I am perfectly aware, her letters to me, and your letters to her, have long since fully acquainted me with this. That you should desire to see your sister--pardon me, I wander--I mean that you should wish to see her married to your best and most intimate companion, I think, was perfectly natural. That he should think her all that you thought her, that she should see him with your eyes, is not less natural; nay, it had been almost impossible for them to have done otherwise. They met --Hamilton with elegant manners, his high culture, his handsome person; Mary, with her universally acknowledged beauty, and her many gifts of mind and her winning manners in conversarion.--------Unselfish boy! why did you not love her yourself?--But that is passed.------ She loves your friend, and he seems to love her; after a variety of adventures, which you know as well as I do, they become engaged, and Mary thanks me for my acquiescence to their wishes, in a letter almost wild with joy. Your father and mother approve--you, her best counsellor advised it, and of course, I anticipated nothing but the brightest days for my child with such a husband. Here your knowledge of this affair terminates"--"No," I replied, "I knew by another, that Hamilton and Mary had broken off--he having quarreled with me a short time previously and having caused all friendly relations to cease by his unnacountable suspicions. She however, never answered four or five letters which I wrote to her and I concluded that she had "fallen out" with me for some cause, and would not hear my defence." No, no" said Mr. Dugay, "that was not the reason; I often begged her to reply to your kind letters, but she only answered by a flood of teras and sadly shook her head. Let me, if I can, tell you all the doleful story.--Hamilton, it seems, was the complete slave of his step-mother, a proud, imperious woman, who cared for nobody in the world but her own blood relations."--"Yes," I replied, "I know well her dark plotting, and I always suspected that she caused her step-son to break at once from Mary and myself: both of whom she hated." "Too true, too true;" resumed Mr. Dugay, "you know that Hamilton was an only son, and his step-mother had no children: by consequence, he would in the end, be the master of his father's princely fortune. Mrs. Hamilton had an only sister, a widow with one daughter and several noisy, extravagant sons. This daughter, Carrie Arlington, had all the cunning of her aunt: withal, she was highly gifted intellectually, and possessed many attractions of manner, many graces of person, and above all, the most insinuating arts of flattery, and a power of dissimulation which must have been wonderful. Mrs. Arlington was in very necessitous circumstances,--indeed, without the assistance of Judge Hamilton, she could not have educated her children at all: Mrs. Hamilton desired Arthur to marry her neice and he very soon fell into the snare. His step-mother had too much knowledge of human nature to allow Arthur to know Carrie Arlington in a familiar manner; Mrs. Hamilton allowed Carrie to come to her house only a long intervals, and then only for short visits. Meanwhile, Carrie was receiving all the lessons which "society" can give in the arts of pleasing, and duplicity. "The engagement between Arthur and Mary, fell like a thunder-bolt on the plans of the designing step-mother; but she was too wise to oppose it--no, her plans lay more deeply. She allowed matters to take their own course for about eighteen months. Arthur came home from his college duties, to spend his three month's vacation. Carrie arrived the day after he came. Mrs. Hamilton now went regularly to work. She caused Arthur's letters to Mary, to be brought to her, by the negro who went to the post office; meanwhile she would dismiss the servant until she could finish, (as she said,) a letter. She took Arthur's letters. and carefully put them away, and as the negro could not read, she palmed off on his ignorance, some commonplace note to a fashionable acquaintance at a distance! Mary's letters to Arthur were all brought to her by the servant, and these she also put away very carefully for future use." "But how under Heaven do you know all this?" I asked in amazement. "Wait," said Mr. Dugay, "and you will see. Mary did not tell me what annoyed her, or I should have instantly gone to Judge Hamilton, and there have demanded an explanation; would to God that I had known it! I saw that my child ws uneasy on some account, but her mother dismissed my fears, by saying, that she thought that "Mary was a little love sick." But just at this juncture, my old friend Wilson failed for nearly half a million of money, and I had to lose about two hundred thousand dollars by his failure! This took all that I had in the world, and the brutal behavior of those whom I had before esteemed by trustiest friends, made me resolve to leave that part of the country, and retire to this secluded retreat in the mountains, with some fifty or sixty negroes, which had been settled upon my wife at our marriage. While I was engaged in settling my affairs at N------, where I then resided, I sent Mrs. Dugay and Mary to pay a visit to your father's family --you remember that while they were there, that most excellent man, your father, died. They, of course, soon afterwards, having spent a few days at their old home on their way here, came to this place--five years ago! It seems but yesterday. Well, well--Mary wrote to you all that summer and fall, for she deeply sympathized with you in your heavy affliction. Now comes the darkest part of this story. Mrs. Hamilton had not only intercepted the letters of Mary and her step-son, but she had also taken those which you and he had written to each other. It is only thirty miles, as you know, from Judge Hamilton's place to your family residence. Mrs. Hamilton wrote to your mother a very kind letter, on the death of your father: unluckily, Miss Carrie Arlington carried the letter when she went to C-----, and undertook to deliver it. Carrie Arlington called at your mother's, at a most unreasonable hour, (by design) and as it was just after dinner, you, yourself, were lyring on a sofa in one of the parlors, at siesta. Hearing the door open, and seeing a lady entering, naturally enough, you retreated to another room, unhappily leaving on the floor, a letter which you had just received from Mary. To secure this letter was the work of a moment, and Miss Carrie Arlington left that house (after delivering Mrs. Hamilton's letter,) perfectly resolved how to act. Mind, Arthur's jealousy had been aroused to the last degree, by the artful insinuations which his step-mother and his "cousin" constantly made as to your conduct, in not writing to him, and purposely aggravated him by asking after Mary and yourself constantly. A letter from you, early in the summer had contained the usual apology for not having written in two weeks, and gave as excuse, that Mary was at your father's, beautiful as ever, but very sad about her father's losses. Unhappily you told Arthur, that if he did not come to spend the promised month with you, you "would make love to his sweetheart." This letter bore date of July 3d, bt was so badly post-marked that he could never have told the fraud from that; so his step-mother changed the date from 3d, to 23d., and at the proper time, gave it to Arthur. The young man was already exasperated by the insinuations which he had heard at home, and the "reports," which he heard in society, that you and Mary were engaged--which reports were all put in circulation by Carrie Arlington, or some of her family.-- When he read this letter his anger knew no bounds-- "not written in two weeks!" he cried, "it is a month and more--but he has forgotten how long it is, I suppose: the charmer is there to beguile his time;--two weeks! it seems to me like an eternity."-----Precisely on the 25th of the month your father died. It was about ten days after that melancholy occurrence that Carrie Arlington went to carry Mrs. Hamilton's letter of condolence, and stole Marry's letter to you Instantly upon her return home, she showed the letter to Mrs. Hamilton, and at once they saw that the affectionate terms which Mary had used in her letter would work Arthur to desperation. Judge Hamilton had gone off on a health-tour, and of course the field was clear.-- Carrie Arlington very mysteriously took Arthur into the Library, and told him that she had been at your father's, and there had seen you drop a letter as you left the room. She said that it seemed to have been done designedly, and that as her curiosity was aroused she looked at the signature of the open letter, that she saw it to be from Mary Dugay,--at once, all her affection for her cousin made her resolve at any cost to bring it home. She had not read it, she said--but she would do so if he thought it proper. Half-mad with jealousy, he snatched the letter, looked at it, strutinized it, and at last having read and re-read it, broke out in a volley of the fiercest abuse of his "false friend" and his "perjured fiancée," as he called you and poor Mary respectivey. He that you would go and insult her, and then challenge swore you to a duel. His step-mother came in, and asked what all this meant? He gave her the letter--she read it aloud, and made these simple lines mean quite a different thing from what my child intended for her "foster-brother." Arthur raged more and more, and at length after many tears and prayers, his wily stepmother made him promise to treat both with the utmost contempt. "Never notice him again" she said, "never degrade yourself by loving Mary Dugay, traitress as she is, any more--cut every tie, my son." Meanwhile that artful hypocrite Carrie next, and sobbed alound.-- That night, Mrs. Hamilton and Carrie took tea alone; Arthur was shut up in the Library writing. At about nine o'clock he called his mother------"I have deliberately resolved "said he," if Carrie will only agree, to marry her on to-morrow morning and then set off to travel." To oppose Arthur was to make him utterly, unreasonably stubborn: this is the usual character of an only son. Acting on this knowledge the artful stepmother vehemently opposed it--she plead long and seemed to plead earnestly: but Arthur was immoveable. At length, she withdrew at his request, and sent Carrie, (who had over-heard it all,) into the parlor. Arthur there pressed her, btu she "fled, to be pursued" for a halfhour' but after that yielded herself, with many tears, to his plan, and confessed that she had always loved him, hopelessly. In short, next morning, they were married at day-light, and went off in the early train, to the Virginia springs. "Arthur had left an insulting letter for you, and one full of scorn for Mary--both of which the delighted Mrs. Hamilton allowed to go to the post-office. "Mary received by the same mail Arthur's heartless letter, and the news, from a "friend" who lived near Judge Hamilton, of the marriage, which had been on foot, as the aforesaid "friend" informed her, for some time. The blow did not crush her at once; but she gradually grew more feeble and pale, and at the end of about two years, she died with a blessing on Arthur, and a sister's benediction on you-----" the old man bowed his head and wept in agony. Could I dare profane those holy tears by empty words of consolation? After a pause, he resumed: "Mary died in September; the July before, I heard at P-----, which is about ten miles from this place, that a stranger from the low-country was at the principal hotel, and said to be dying of consumption. I went to the hotel, and imagine my horror at seeing the name, (the only one of anybody from the low-country,) the too-wellremembered name of "Arthur Hamilton!" the register stated that he had two horses and a servant. Where was his wife? where the ambitious step-mother? He had never seen me, and I instantly resolved to visit him incognito. "Scarcely had these thoughts passed through my mind when the landlord came up to me, and said, with great impressement: "'Mr. Dugay, a dying man, upstairs, has just asked me to send for you. He came here to see you, and he cannot live long.' ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. 107 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I heard no sound as I ascended to his chamber; we entered; there lay a miserably emaciated man, who evidently was moribund. Hamilton--for it was he, dismissed the host, and, in the feeblest manner, begged me to read a package of letters which he handed to me.-- They were Mary's and yours, which his mother had intercepted! He told me that after he returned from his bridal tour, one day, in searching for a legal document, he accidentally found this package of letters. Furious at his wife's and his step-mother's evident villainy, he rushed into the room where they were sitting and told them of his discovery. They tried to laugh it off by saying that it was 'too late;' and, in his despair, he took to the bottle, for which he had always had a penchant. In a short time, his health began to fail, and neither wife nor step-mother seemed to care. Finding himself so badly off, he came with one servent to the mountains as he said, to tell me all, and to die. I dared not tell Mary, who even then was very ill, but whenever I could leave her, I stole away to see the dying and deeply repentant Hamilton. In the early part of September, the physicians declared that Mary could not survive for a week longer. I asked how poor Hamilton was, one day, and foster-brother--Good-night!" to my amazement they informed me that he was taking short rides every day, and seemed much better. They said, however, that he still looked frightfully and that his rides sometimes brought on fearful hæmorrhages from the lungs; but still, that he persisted in riding whenever he was well enough to sit in his carriage. "Meanwhile, I quite lost sight of him, as my dying child required all my attention. At length, on the evening of the 3d of September Mary began to sink--I knew at a glance that it was DEATH! Her mother, her sisters, the physicians and the family servants all congregated in the chamber of grief. Calmly she bade one by one "good-bye," and, strangely enough, she begged that all should retire except her mother and myself. "'I have something to tell them alone.' "She begged us to raise her up in her bed; she charged us not to mourn for her, and in a strain of wonderful eloquence pictured to us the happiness of re-union in heaven. "'Then,' she said, in a low, thrilling whisper, 'tell Arthur and my beloved brother that I died saying "God bless them."' "She suddenly paused and then said 'good-bye,' in a dying tone, and gently breathed her last. Her death was singular in this; they who die most easily usually make some struggle, she merely ceased to breathe. We laid her gently down when, by our mute but anguished lips, we had told each other 'she is dead!' Just as we had taken our hands from beneath our dead child, a low, gurgling sound broke on our ears immediately at the foot of the bed--Horror-stricken my wife and I stared at each other; we had been so intent in gazing at our dying daughter that we had seen nothing, heard nothing else. Conceive my terror when I glanced towards the foot of the bed, when I saw the sheets all stained with blood and the lifeless form of Arthur Hamilton fell heavily on the floor! He had heard her dying words, and had died in a hæmorrhage produced by his travel and the excitement of that death-bed scene!------As soon as I recovered myself, I called in the physicians and they told me that they had indiscreetly conversed about Mary's certain death while they were attending Arthur that day. He was too weak then to go so far, as ten miles is a long journey for a man as nearly dead as Arthur was at that time; he had gone, however, later in the afternoon, as he said to take a short ride, and his coachman said that they arrived just as the family began to leave the room. He had rushed to the room and entered there just before we raised her up and now I am sure, her last "Good-bye" was said to him. The body of Hamilton was carriel back to P.------ and thence to the family burying-ground. His stepmother and wife kept the whole matter quiet and the newspapers simply announced that he died of bleeding at the lungs after a long illness. But my child, my angel --Mary! her grave is yonder--may she rest in peace! "God moves in a myterious way," my dear young friend, but blessed be His name that there is a Heaven where we may meet again." So saying, he led me to the staircase which went to the door of my chamber: Silently pointing the way, he pressed my hand, and the in a choaking voice said "Good-night, and God bless you, my Mary's beloved ------------------------------------------ BRAZILIAN CUSTOMS; OR, WHAT WAS SAID AT AN ANTIQUARIAN DINNER. ----- Toothpicks.--Domestic and Social Habits.--Old Hospitality.-- Pantomimè.

MR EDITOR:--At a dinner lately given by the President of a neighbouring Antiquarian Society to a small party of associates, and to which I had the honour of an invitatation, information on diverse small matters was elicited, which, I think, may be interesting to your readers. Observe, I say to your readers, not to yourself; for I have my suspicions that you are of the class of "solid writers" who liken antiquaries to old women, and irreverently designate the relics they collect as rattletraps and rubbish.

PALITOS. On the cloth being removed, Captain D------, one of the oldest and most active members, and commander of a Rio steamer, placed on the table a small box of palitos (toothpicks,) such as have been imported from the Peninsula into Brazil ever since its occupancy by the Portuguese. They are made of orange-wood by shepherds, and are of various qualities, according to the labor spent on them. Those before us were of the first chop--each being ornamented at the blunt end with scrolls like those of an Ionic column, the minikin involutes being delicate shavings left adhering to the body. "Palitos," said the captain, "are used by every one in Brazil, from the Emperor to the lowest tradesman. Even negro slaves may be observed in the streets with them stuck behind the ear, where clerks sometimes put their pens when not in use. All repasts are wound up by pushing round the paliteiro, a fanciful device for holding the picks, and often forming an item in a family's silver plate. With those who do not smoke, palitos are equal to cigars in promoting conversation, besides being cheaper and more durable." On this, the Secretary, who is at home on most subjects, continused thus: "From the times of the Normans to the present hour, the lively Gauls have been the teachers of the brusque and phlematic Anglo-Saxons in manners, dress, and innumerable accessories of fassion and taste. From one branch or other of the Latin race we have derived most of these things. Table-forks, it is known, passed through Italy into England, where they met with violent and general opposition. Those who used them were derided like the introducers of umbrellas, as fops and corrupters of manners. This was no later than the seventeenth century; for not till then did the feeding habits of our ancestors deviate from those of the Orientals. For soups they had spoons, but for other matters every one thrust his hand into the dish, and fished for himself. Another article of table-furniture naturalized on Continental Europe since Greek and Roman times, are toothpicks; and yet they have but recently been admitted into our restaurants and hotels. An influential New York journal, (the Tribune,) in its issue of May 19, 1847, severely denounced their introduction. "Toothpicks are brought on to some of the tables of public houses in order to drive most of the boarders from the table before ice-creams and jellies are served. But a few years have made a great change in popular opinion. They are becoming generally domesticated with us. "In works illustrative of Spanish manners they are of constant occurrence. It was impossible for Cervantes to overlook them. The making of them was a gentlemanly amusement. In his controversy with the Canon, Don Quixote, after hearing his opponent, begs him to be silent and not continue to utter blasphemies against chivalry; but to act like a discreet person and peruse standard books on the subject, by which he would learn, among other matters, how every true knight errant was honored by princes, welcomed at the castles of the great, clothed in gorgeous apparrel, led into banqueting apartments, waited on by damsels, etc., 'and how, when the dinner is ended and the cloth taken away, the knight lolls in his chair and picks his teeth according to custom.' Fosbroke informs us that ancient toothpicks occur of silver, wood and feathers. The rudentes pennæ of Martial were most usual. To pick the teeth in the time of Elizabeth was the mark of a man affecting foreign fashions. In a ludicrous order in 'Nichol's Progresses' is the following: 'Item. No knight of this order shall be armed, for the safe-guard of his countenance, with a pike in his mouth, in the nature of a toothpick. Nares observes that the using of a toothpick in public was a mark of gentility. Towards the close of the seventeenth century, magnetic toothpicks and earpicks were fashionable specifics for pains in the teeth, eyes, and ears. "In fact, the application of the magnet as a curative agent was known at least thirteen hundred years ago.-- In the middle ages it was used as a preservative against convulsions and affections of the nerves, for relieving persons afflicted with the gout, removing ordinary rheumatic twinges, and as a sovereign remedy for aches in the head, ears, face, and teeth. The inventors of magnetic necklaces, bracelets, armlets, anklets, girdles, etc., so extensively advertised recently in the newspapers, have, to their own loss, strangely omitted in their lists of 'new' 'pain-extractors,' the magic picks that with a touch removed the keenest of mortal pangs. They might, certainly for a season, become as fashionable and profitable as metallic tractors once were." At the close of these remarks, one of the members who appeared to enjoy more than any of us the Presdent's Chateau Margeaux, requested the captain to give a few more touches of Brazilian character and manners. The following is the substance of what he told us:

DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS. "Many old Portuguese customs are passing away in Brazil. Formerly ladies were scarcely ever allowed to go out except to church. Chevalier W-----p, who has spent most of his life in an official capacity in Rio, says it is only since the English and French have got among them that females began to stir abroad and affect, as they do, French fashions and manners. Till late years, wives, as among the Moors, did not dine with their husbands, and, except on extraordinary occasions, were never seen by male visitors. Once, Sir John and his daughter dined with a native merchant who, as a particular favor, introduced his wife at table, but the compliment was never repeated. "Receiving little company, ladies were commonly in dishabille, and, seated on the floor, occupied themselves with the needle. When a visitor was at the door, he was reconnoitred through the latticed panel, and if admitted, an inner door, with a peeping-hole, prevented further ingress till he was recognized or his business made known. Sir John says he once or twice passed the second gate before the ladies had time to rise and hurry off into more concealed apartments. In many houses these inner doors are still to be seen."

ANCIENT HOSPITALITY. "A custom characteristic of ancient hospitality is, more or less, kept up. A friend invited to dinner sometimes takes with him a string of cousins, nephews, nieces and a swarm of attending negroes, enough to cause, for weeks after, a dearth of provisions in the inviter's larder. Sir John once asked an officer of the Custom House--a gentleman never known to take his wife to a party or to admit any of his friends into her presence-- to dine en familia with him. The hour came, and with it, to the amazement of the host and his lady, Senhor-- and eighteen relatives, male and female, with a half a dozen colored servants.

PANTOMIME. "Most people talk with their tongues, but Brazilians express and exchange thought while their organs are at rest. Every man, woman and child, have the habit of drawing down the corners of the mouth, pushing up the lips to the nose, and raising the shoulders and eyebrows, whenever a question is asked that they cannot or do not like to answer. This play of the features is as sudden as it is expressive. Two ladies or gentlemen are in earnest conversation, smiles chase each other over the faces of both, and, in a twinkling, the expression of one is so changed, that had you lost sight of him, you would hardly take him for the same individual. "But the hand as a telegraph is in constant employment. Holding out the right one, and rubbing the thumb over the forefinger is asking for money, and in universal use. A slight nod of the head is, as with us, an affirmative, but the general and most decided of negatives is to waive the forefinger, in a perpendicular position, two or three times across the heart, or in front of the face. Thus a party asks payment of a bill and is refused without a syllable being spoken. A lady at her window asks another passing by it in a carriage how she does, by holding the palm of the right hand upwards and shaking the fingers. By turning the palm down and closing them her friend is pressed to come in. At evening parties a lady will place her thumb over the adjoining forefinger and thus intimate her opinion to another that it is time to break up. The movement is the last one in the act of a person crossing or blessing himself, and is thus employed as a private signal to put an end to other matters." And with it, Mr. Editor, I take my leave. E. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

108 THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ We give the following from the recollections of Horne Tooke, which Mr. Rogers got from Lord Grey: Read few books well. We forget names and dates, and reproach our memory. They are of little consequence. We feel our limbs enlarge and strengthen, yet cannot tell the dinner or the dish that caused the alteration. Our minds improve, though we cannot name the author, and have forgotten the particulars . . . Reads all books through, and bad books more carefully, lest he should loose one good thought--being determined never to look into them again. A man may read a great deal too much. . . . Spoke with contempt of Gibbon's history, though he called him a superior man. Instead of writing because he had something to say, he began life with a determination to write a book of some kind or other. Admired his letter on the Government of Berne. How clearly has Gibbon revealed his character! A man of bad principles, either private or public, had better let his bitterest enemy write his life, than venture to do it himself. . . . The more wretched a people are, the severer necessarily are the punishments: a soldier and a sailor are punished for mutiny and desertion with stripes and death, because the situation they would escape from is so very terrible And you may always judge of the comfort or misery of a people by the severity of their penal laws. . . . The great use of education is to give us confidence, and to make us think ourselves on a level with other men. An uneducated man thinks there is a magic in it, and stands in awe of those who have had the benefit of it. It does little for us. No man, as Selden says, is the wiser for his learning. . . . "So I understand, Mr. T., you have all the blackguards in London with you," said O'Brien to him on the hustings at Westminster. "I am happy to have it, sir, on such good authority." "Now, young man, as you are settled in town," said my uncle, "I would advise you to take a wife." "With all my heart, sir; whose wife shall I take?" . . . . "The law," said Judge Ashurst in a charge, "is open to all men--to the poor as well as the rich." And so is the London Tavern. . . . "If I was compelled (I said somewhere publicly) to make a choice, I should not hesitate to prefer depotism to anarchy." "Then you would do," replied Tooke, "as your ancestors did at the Reformation. They rejected purgatory and kept hell." ------------------------------------------ DINING WITH A BISHOP.--One of our leading prelates not long ago invited to his hospitable mansion, in London, a country rector, an old friend, from one of the remote provinces. The simple-minded gentleman came about five o'clock, having a notion that he should arrive about the dinner hour. Soon after he had taken his seat tea was brought round. "Well," thought the rector, "this is bare living, at any rate; if I had known, I would have had a beefsteak at a chop-house before I came; but I hardly expected that a bishop would dine at one o'clock. Is it a fast-day, I wonder? He drank his tea, however, and said nothing. About half-past seven o'clock his bed-candle was placed in his hand, and he was conducted to his sleeping-room. "Call you this London?" he soliloquised; "why I should have fared far better at Silverton; I should have had my comfortable mutton-chop and my glass of beer at nine o'clock, and I should have been in bed at ten, well-fed and contentet. But here I am, half-starved in the midst of splendor--as hungry as a hunter--almost ready to devour my blanket, like the boa constrictor--ha, ha!--and everything looks so grand. Well, fine furniture won't make a man fat; give me substantial victuals, and you may take the gilding." Soliloquising in this fashion, he undressed himself, pulled over his ears his cotton night-cap, "with a tassel on the top," as the song says, and crept into bed, coiling himself up comfortably, and being of a forgiving temper, he soon forgot his troubles, and sank in his first sleep as sweetly as a "christom child;" when lo! after a while, bells begin to ring, and a smart knock at his door resounds through his room, and a voice is heard, saying, "Dinner is on the table, sir!" The old gentleman awoke in considerable confusion, not knowing whether it was to-day or to-morrow; and according to the most authentic account he appeared shortly after at the dinner-table, though in a somewhat ruffled condition as relates to his wardrobe, and mentally in a daze of uncertainty as to the day of the week and the meal he was eating.--Fraser's Magazine. ------------------------------------------ A Paris letter has the following:--Napoleon III. will insist on the delivery from Kaiserlich vault at Vienna on the coffin that holds the Duc de Reichstadt, and in the case of refusal, the French troops will go and fetch it. ------------------------------------------ Youthful rashness skips like a hare over the mshes of good counsel.--Shakspeare. ------------------------------------------ No man can avoid his own company--so he had best make it as good as possible. ------------------------------------------ Nothing establishes confidence sooner than punctuality. ------------------------------------------ We present our readers with another of the poems of the lady, one of whose productions we introduced some time ago, in the Courant, of June 9th--the "Death-Watch." Read this poem, written by an invalid, and learn, all ye who repine alike at the real and imaginary ills of Life--learn a valuable lesson of resignation.

THOUGHTS ON LIFE. ----- I. Youth has scarce passed away, and yet my life Has tasted something of the cares of earth; In childhood's days I deemed the world was rife Only with joys, and to naught else gave birth. Yet I have found my error. There's a dearth Of human joys and pleasures, ere our days Are half gone by--to sorrow turns our mirth-- Feeble and dim become Hope's cheering rays, And we but onward move to tread in gloomier ways.

II. Thus it is e'er with man. Awhile he lives In mirth and gladness--soon his brightest songs A mournful tone assume: each day still gives Fresh evidence that earth is filled with wrongs Of every grade. Pure happiness belongs Not to this world; in higher spheres alone It can be surely found, where countless throngs Of angels gather 'round their maker's throne, To sound aloud his praises--there true bliss is known.

III. Our hopes how vain!--how fruitless our desires! We fight for worldly things, and only deem Them worth our toil; with hand that never tires, We grasp at wealth, and thus Life's fitful stream Grows dark with human follies--should it seem Strange that our days should pass so cheerlses by?-- No wonder that we feel not virtue's beam Gladden our hearts, or bid our sorrows fly, And making us to live, as we would wish to die.

IV. Man ever moves in an unhappy sphere; He magnifies his ills, and 'round them all A hugeness throws, that makes his way more drear-- That makes life's troubles heavier on him fall: Why wonder then, that misery, like a pall, Hangs o'er his head--shrouding his years in gloom: The fault's his own--suffering his cares to gall His purest feelings, and ne'er finding room For virtue in his heart--why wonder at his doom?

V. Then what's our duty? Surely it is not To sit lamenting o'er our troubles here. Gloomy repinings never yet have brought One cheerful, pleasant hour. Oh, dark and drear Must be his life, who gives to every fear An undue weight. Woe, like a sea-hid reef, Soon wrecks his happiness; vapid and sere Becomes the heart that feels too much of grief; Joy is its natural right--our sorrowing should be brief.

VI. Rise, then, O man! and from thy drowsy mind Shake off all sluggishness. Life hath its bliss If spent aright--the willing e'er can find A way to save themselves from the abyss Of sin-born agony. Man, if remiss In works of goodness, forfeits Heaven's love; That lost, all's lost; we mourn and grieve, but this Lightens not sorrow--prayer alone can move The King of Kings, and bring rich blessings from above. ------------------------------------------ SIGNATURE OF THE CROSS.--The mark which persons who are unable to write are required to make, instead of their signature, is in the form of a cross (†); and this practice having formerly been followed by kings and nobles, is constantly referred to as an instance of the deplorable ignorance of ancient times. This signature is not, however, invariably a proof of such ignorance. Anciently, the use of this mark was not confined to illiterate persons; for amongst the Saxons, the mark of the cross, as an attestation of the good faith of persons singing, was required to be attached to the signatures of those who could write, as well as to stand in the place of the signature of those who could not write. In those times, if a man could write, or even read, his knowledge was considered proof presumtive that he was in holy orders. The word clericus or clerk, was synonymous with penman; and the laity or people, who were not clerks, did not fell any urgent necessity for the use of letters. The ancient use of the cross was, therefore, universal, alike by those who could and those who could not write; it was indeed, the symbol of an oath, from its holy associations, and generally the mark. On this account, the editor of the Pictorial Shakspeare explains the expression of "God save the mark," as a form of ejaculation approaching to the character of an oath. ------------------------------------------ OLD ADVERTISEMENTS.--A recent lecturer upon the antiquities of Pompeii, gives the following account of of the style of advertising formerly in vogue among the Pompeians: "Their advertisements were in the most public places --on walls, at the gates of the city, at the theatres, at the markets, on monuments, etc. There seem to have been alba, or white panels, for the notices of the magistrates or municipal officers. One of their business signs was as follows: D. M. TIIVLOS SCRI BENDOS VEL SI QVID OPE RIS MARMOR ARI OPVS FV ERIT HIC HA BES "'If you want inscriptions to be written on monuments, or any work done in marble, here you have me,' or, 'here's your man"--so that expression was, after all, somewhat classical. "Now-a-days we have occasionally good hotel puffs, such as, 'All the delicacies of the season provided,' or, 'furnished regardless of expense,' and such like. But those were entirely thrown into the shade by the following: MERCVRIVS HIC LVCRVM PROMITTIT APOLLO SALVTEM SEPTVMANVS HOSPITIVM CVM PRANDIO QVI VENERIT MELIVS VTETVR POST HOSPES VRI MANEAS PROSPICE "'Mercury here promises gain, Apollo health, and Septumanus lodging with dinner'--closing with the disinterested caution, 'stranger, look out where you stay.' Another very interesting advertisement was one regarding a wine vessel which had been lost out of a tavern. It s as follows: VRNA VINARIA PERIIT DE TABERNA SEI EAM QVIS RETVLERIT DABVNTVR H-LXV SEI FVREM QVI ABDVXERIT DABITVR DVPLVM A VARIO "This meant, 'A wine vessel has been lost from a shop. If any one will bring it back, there will be given to him 65 sesterces, (between two and three dollars;) but if any one will bring the thief who stole it, double will be paid by Varius.,'" ------------------------------------------ THE LAST LEDGER STORY.--The Salem (Mass.) Register tells a good story of a teacher in a district school in that neighbourhood, who is in the habit of questioning the children under his charge as to what they know of various historical characters they happen to meet with in their books. A few days ago the name of Washington occurred in the morning lesson, and those who had anything to say about him were asked to raise their hands. Of course up went all the hands, and young America once more paid tribune to him 'who was first,' etc. "He never told a lie," shouted one. "Ate out of a tin plate all through the war." "Never smiled for nine years," cried a third. "He was the father of his country," piped several. "Edward Everett is getting money to buy his grave," and so forth. "Now, then," said the teacher, "who can tell me about Edward Everett?" No hand was raised. The teacher, somewhat surprised--"Is there no one here who knows anything about Edward Everett?" No hand was up. "Well, we shall see what we can find out about Edward Everett before to-morrow." P. M.--Before school opens, up runs a little girl, in great excitement, as the teacher enters the school-room. "I know something about Edward Everett." "Well, what is it?" asked the teacher eagerly. "He writes for the New Yoak Ledger." She had read it in nice large letters on the fence as she went home. Such is "fame." ------------------------------------------ A placard in the window of a patent medicine vendor, in the Rue Saint Honore, Paris, reads as follows: "The public are requested not to mistake this shop for that of another quack just opposite." ------------------------------------------ It is a beautiful custom in some Oriental lands to leave untouched the dates that are shaken from the trees by the wind; these being regarded as sacred to the poor and the stranger. ------------------------------------------ Jean Paul said:--"Life is a beautiful night in which not one star goes down but another rises to take its place." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. 109 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Courant. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ COLUMBIA, S. C., THURSDAY, AUG. 4, 1859. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE COURANT. Subscriptions for the Courant will be received at the Bookstore of Mr. P. B. GLASS, in this City, where single copies can be obtained every week. The following gentlemen have been appointed Traveling Agents for the Courant: G. W. MEETZE, JAS. S. BALLEW, THOS. P. WALKER, W. THOS. WILKES. W. C. WINN. Mr. MEETZE will visit Lexington and Edgefield Districts, Mr. BALLEW, Laurens and Newberry, Mr. WILKES, Chester, Mr. WALKER, Richland, and Mr. WINN, Abbeville, and adjoining Districts--during the present month. We cordially recommend these gentlemen to the kind attentions and courtesies of our friends. WM. W. WALKER, JR., & CO. ------------------------------------------ CORRECTION. In the poem, called "Hampton's Garden," in last week's Courant, the word Camden, with the date, should have been omitted. ------------------------------------------ PRIZE STORY. We are pleased to observe by the last Lexington Flag that our gifted townswoman, Mrs. BEDELL has taken the prize which was offered by the proprietor of that Journal, for the best story. It is called "Lincourt," and from the first instalment we should judge that it is altogether deserving of the prize and worthy of her growing reputation. ------------------------------------------ JOHN R. THOMPSON. We have received from the many-sided editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger," a copy of the his "Poesy, an Essay in rhyme." This he delivered before the Societies of Columbian College, Washington, last month. There is much thought, much original combination and a vast deal of suggestion in this essay, with occasional flights of genuine poetry. ------------------------------------------ The Great Republic has also come. The illustrations of the "Midnight Review" are very striking, and the notice of that remarkable poem, (under the head of "The Literary World,") contains some interesting information concerning it.--The articles of this number, as far as we have had time to read them, seem to be rather better than usual--But the "Seven Years in ye Western land,--" quousque tandem? ------------------------------------------ PAUL H. HAYNE. The Home Journal says, "PAUL H. HAYNE, one of the sweetest of southern poets, has a new volume of poems in press, which will soon be published by a Boston house." Our readers who have enjoyed so many treats in the contributions which Mr. HAYNE has made to our paper, will, doubtless, be delighted to learn that his waifs are to be collected in a volume, the form at once most convenient and enduring. We predict a wide fame for our young poet, and we hope that the entire country, North and South, will welcome the forthcoming volume as it deserves. ------------------------------------------ MINERAL SPRING. We had the pleasure of visiting, last week, the Lager-bier Brewery of Mr. SEEGERS. The inspection of the apparatus for making the "tonic and Teu-tonic beverage" will well repay the curious visitor for the trouble of the ride--while the mineral water is, in all respects, the most interesting feature of the place. The taste of this water is almost unpleasantly strong of iron; and we understand that one of the Professors at the College has pronounced it to contain a large quantity of iron with traces of sulphur. The lager-bier is made with this water, and we doubt not that the well known tonic powers of lager are improved by the strong iron-water. ------------------------------------------ HARPER'S MAGAZINE For August, has duly arrived. It contains the usual variety of well-selected and well-written matter. The articles and authors are as follows:--The Cruise of the Essex, by Dr. Thomas; A Forest Story, the Hunting-Grounds of the Savage, by T. Addison Richards; The Musicians of our Woods, by Mrs. Charlotte Taylor; My Wife, by Rose Terry; What'ill You Drink? by J. W. Watson; A Ballad; Visitors, by Dr. Osgood; Hexameters at Jamestown, by J. R. Thompson; Isabel Bernard's Lesson, by Mrs. Anne M. Sawyer; Legal Wit; Margaret Stuart, by Miss H. O. Nelson; The Virginians, by Thackeray; Monthly Record of Current Events; Literary Notices; Editor's Table; Easy-Chair; Editor's Drawer. ------------------------------------------ The London Critic, in commenting upon Dr. Cumming's "Ruth," a religious story manufactured as so many religious stories are, by diluting an interesting history taken from the Bible with any quanitty of wish-wash, concludes with the following admission, which we are glad to see, coming, as it does, from such a respectable quarter: Dr. Cumming, too, is weak in his Roman history. A woman among the Romans was not, we submit, "a subservient drudge or slave." Indeed, in course of time, her rights, both of person and property, were legally recognized, which is more than can be said of the women of England even in the present century. ------------------------------------------ "THE SOUTHERN TEACHER." We have received the first number of a new educational Magazine, called The Southern Teacher, and published at Montgomery, Ala.; edited by W. S. BARTON, whose school books we noticed last week. The announcement of this periodical may be found in our advertising columns. The present issue has a fine engraving of the East Alabama Female College, and contains several very ably written articles; "The Claims of Natural History" by Prof. DARBY; the "Uses and Abuses of English Grammar," by Mr. Pratt, of the Ala. University. "The Profession of Teaching," &c., &c. The Southern Teacher is published bi-monthly at one dollar a year in advance. ------------------------------------------ THE VOICE OF MASONRY. This excellent Journal makes its appearance in a new dress, much enlarged, its capacity nearly doubled, and its editorial corps strengthened. It is now one of the handsomest sheets in the country. In the number before us appears a communication from Mr. Cooke, the corresponding Editor, who has commenced a tour through Europe and Asia, in pursuit of Masonic intelligence. The article is very entertaining. The "VOICE OF MASONRY" is certainly the perfection of journalizing in that department, and no one can hesitate to stamp it a vigorous, sound and reliable exhibit of the affairs of the Craft. Price only one dollar per annum. Address, ROB. MORRIS, Louisville, Ky. ------------------------------------------ SPIRITUALISM. From the following extract from the Saturday Press, it will be seen that something rich and rare is ahead of us in the way of a refutation of Spiritualism. The Press is very well edited and is unquestionably, as a literary journal, a very able one, but we doubt very much, the ability of the Editor to make anything out of Judge Edmonds. The man is too fully convinced of the truth of what he says and altogether has a strange "method in his madness," which will puzzle our editor sadly. Still, let us have it, by all means. We should like to see the question discussed by two persons who are entirely competent to such work. One thing is certain, no good has ever resulted from this Spiritualism, whereas a vast deal of mischief has certainly been done. SPIRITUALISM.--"We continue to republish Judge Edmonds' Letters on Spiritualism, not because of their ability, but because they come from such high authority. When the series is completed, we propose to take up the Judge's points in detail, and prove that no greater delusion ever took possession of the human mind than this idea that direct communication has been established between this world and the world of departed spirits." ------------------------------------------ A GREAT TEMPTATION. We received, a few days ago, a printed circular from Mr. G. G. EVANS of Philadelphia. The notices of two books which he has just "published" are quite long for us to publish for the consideration which he offers. "Italy and the war of 1859" may be as interesting as most such compilations are, and about as valuable in a historical way. The Rev. Mr. STOWELL BROWN'S "Lectures for the people" are offered on the same terms, to wit, that we should publish all the long "notices," for which, we presume Mr. EVANS paid duly once. We publish below the gentle terms, the strong inducements, for us to assist in gulling the public with the "Original Gift Book Enterprise." To the Editor, DEAR SIR:--Upon inserting the above notices in the edition of your paper, and sending a marked copy of the paper to us, we will send you copies of the books free of postage. Further, if upon your receipt of the book, you will give it such a notice as its merits deserve, and call attention to G. G. Evans' Original Gift Book Enterprise, and the fact that he will send a copy of the Book, and a splendid Gift, upon receipt of one dollar, and twenty-one cents to pay for the postage, and send a marked copy of the paper, we will send you a handsome gift. Yours Respectfully, No. 439 Chesnut St., Philadelphia. G. G. EVANS. ------------------------------------------ THACKERAY. It will be seen from the following that THACKERAY has concluded a most advantageous bargain: The London correspondent of the Inverness Courier has the following: "I mentioned lately that the publishers, Smith, Elder & Co., had resolved on starting a monthly magazine, and had secured the cöoperation of Mr. Thackeray. The terms of that cöoperation are so remarkable as to be worthy of specific notice. Mr. Thackeray contracts to supply two tales, each extending to sixteen parts, or carried over sixteen numbers of the magazine, and is to receive £350 each part. The publishers, however, have a right to print, in a separate form, one edition of each of the tales. Thus the novelist has work provided for two years and eight months at the handsome allowance of £350 a month. You may rely on the accuracy of this statement, and it certainly forms a curious and interesting chapter in literary history." ------------------------------------------ METTERNICH'S DEATH.--The London News felicitously says: "Metternich was the fanatic of the status quo whom Paul Louis Courier beheld in a vision on the morning of the creation of the world, crying out in indignation and alarm. "Mon Dieu! conservans le chaos." Political life and liberty, national independence, the dignity of man as man, were chaos to him.-- Darkness was his "order," and when the darkness broke, he had the wit to die." ------------------------------------------ LITERARY NOTICES. ----- "HISTORY OF THE SOUTH CAROLINA COLLEGE, from its Incorporation, Dec. 19, 1801 to Nov. 25th, 1857. Including Sketches of its Presidents and Professors: with an Appendix. By M. LaBORDE, M. D., Professor of Metaphysics, Logic and Rhetoric, S. C. College, Columbia, S. C. PETER B. GLASS, (successor to R. L. Bryan,) 1859." This volume has been eagerly expected for some months past: the subject made it an object of interest, and the high personal and literary character of the author added much to the public expectation. Dr. LaBORDE had already secured for himself an enviable reputation as a writer of vigorous prose, by several contributions which he had made to the periodical publications of the South, and especially, by the very able papers which he wrote for the Southern Quarterly, during its brief but brilliant career in this city. Dr. LaBORDE'S style is singularly chaste, while he yet avoids the fault of dryness--but no glow of Imagination, no flush of Fancy can betray him into meretricious ornament or the splendida vitia of even some of our best writers. Those of our readers who have perused with profit and pleasure his articles in the Southern Quarterly will be equally instructed and charmed by the volume before us. The mere matter of collecting facts, marshalling dates, putting down numbers and arranging names, is not the object of this volume. Upon these dry bones he has breathed a living spirit, and the History of the College passes before us on these pages, like some splendid panorama. We shall not say that the dead seem alive again, but that we see them in the most perfect representation: standing out in vivid columns like some of the best word-painting of Livy or Lord Macaulay. This may be esteemed high praise --but we are sure that no man can read this book without acknowledging the justness of our estimate. Dr. LaBORDE encountered the usual difficulty which attends labors involving a variety of powers; now, he must sketch a profound metaphysician, and now, he has a graceful scholar of Belles-Lettres: anon he must discuss the mental calibre of an exact and laborious Professor of Natural Science, and soon after, the many-sided teacher of History and political economy. The difficulty of treating with equal justice such men as Maxcy and Cooper, such different geniuses as Nott and Twiss, Preston, and Ellet, and Lieber, is not a small one, as it will be seen at a glance, what versatility is required. These difficulties, our author has not failed to see, nor has he omitted to confess. We were struck particularly, with the manner of his introduction to his sketch of Dr. COOPER; a man, who was regarded by his friends as the most injured being in the universe, and, we presume it will hardly be denied at this day,--who was pursued bitterly by those who differed with him. After admitting the difficulty of the task, Dr. LaBORDE says:--"The passions of the day are gone forever; the grave has silenced alike the voice of censure and of praise.--The prejudices of enemies, the partialities of friends, no longer exert an influence. Another generation has succeeded and the calm inquiry of truth and justice can alone have interest." This is the spirit of the entire volume.--It is, indeed the crowning element of the personal character of the author that he is a man without prejudice; hence, in his estimate of men, and especially of those who are dead, his desire seems always to render to all, strict historic justice. He is no partisan, and while adhering to his own deliberate judgments as firmly as any man, a mere difference of opinion will never lead him to regard an opponent with the "jaundiced eye," but, as this volume abundantly exhibits, to all he accords the strictest meed of Justice. In reference to one unfortunate affair which occurred in this College in 1857-- (beginning on page 410,) we read with a great degree of nervousness, the commencement of the narrative. So much feeling has been exhibited on both sides in that unhappy occurrence, such a storm did it raise, that we were wondering how Dr. LaBORDE,-- who was an actor in the most important portions of it,--would maintain the style of calm and entirely impartial statement.-- Our readers must turn to the page indicated above, and see for themselves, that our author narrates the whole history of the difficulty without excitement, without injustice in the least particular, even though one of the actors in that drama made charges against certain members of the Faculty, without foundation and in direct contradiction of what he had officially said only a month before. Dr. LaBORDE contents himself with saying that he has "the materials for refutation of these charges, but I pass them by with the remark, that the Professors found a vindication in the final action of the Board of Trustees some months afterwards," p. 415. The ensuing remarks upon Mr. McCay are written fearlessly but with perfect candor and strict justice; the writer was compelled to state what was necessary to defend the Professors, and he has done so in a style which, we have no doubt, will command the admiration of all who knew anything of the circumstances, or the men concerned in this affair. This volume will be found not only valuable for the historical information which it contains; but in teh departments of analytical biography, as well as incidentally, criticism on numberless points referring to the various Professorships, it will suggest much to the general reader. The style, as we remarked at the outset, is uncommonly agreeable, while the typograph------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------