The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 8, July, 1836

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I am glad that the pretty Mrs. F——h is so comfortably established at Mrs. Kemp's. Do I understand you correctly that the C——'s, Rootes, Gilmer, and Mr. Burwell are of the same party? I should like very much to join it, for (to say nothing of the ladies) R. and G. are two of my favorites. I could be somewhat less miserable there, I am sure, than I find myself here.

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If I possessed a talent that I once thought I had, I would try and give you a picture of Washington. The state of things is the strangest imaginable, but I am like a speechless person who has the clearest conception of what he would say, but whose organs refuse to perform their office. There is one striking fact that one can't help seeing at the first glance—that there is no faith among men: the state of political confidence may be compared to that of the commercial world within the last two or three years.

I read Mr. Roane's letter with the attention that it deserves. Every thing from his pen on the subject of our laws and institutions excites a profound interest. I was highly gratified at the manner in which it was spoken of in my hearing by one of the best and ablest men in our house. It is indeed high time that the hucksters and money-changers should be cast out of the Temple of Justice. The tone of this communication belongs to another age; but for the date, who could suppose it to have been written in this our day of almost universal political corruption? I did not read the report on the lottery case. The print of the Enquirer is too much for my eyes: and besides I want no argument to satisfy me that the powers which Congress may exercise where they possess exclusive jurisdiction, may not be extended to places where they possess only a limited and concurrent jurisdiction. The very statement of the question settles it, and every additional word is but an incumbrance of help.

And now, my dear sir, you may be glad to come to an end of this almost interminable epistle. Shut up in my little “chair-lumbered closet” this cold day, without a soul to speak to or a book to read, you have become the victim of my desolate condition. Indeed, if I had a book I could not read it, having exercised my eyes so unmercifully on John Wesley, that I do not see what I am writing—at least not distinctly. My best regards to Mrs. B. I wish I could provoke her to talk. When you see Dudley, tell him I have been trying to write to him for several days; and when you see Mr. Cunningham, present me most kindly to him and _his house_.

Sincerely yours, J. R. of R.

_Washington, January, 1821_.

TO A LOCK OF HAIR.

BY J. DOGGETT, Jr.

Bright auburn lock! which like the wing Of some kind angel sweeping by, Shinest in the sun a glossy thing, As soft as beams from beauty's eye, Thou dost recall, sweet lock, to me, All of the heaven of memory.

Thou once did'st shade a marble brow, Where beauty raised her polish'd throne; Methinks I gaze upon it now And listen to a silver tone— Which floats from lips in notes as sweet As angel's greetings when they meet.

Fair lock! I'd rather hold with thee A silent, blissful, strange commune, Than join that boisterous gaiety Which seems of happiness the noon: For thou dost whisper, shining hair, Peace comes not, rests not, _is_ not there.

_Philadelphia, June, 1836_.

EXAMPLE AND PRECEPT.

BY J. K. PAULDING.

A fine fashionable mother, one beautiful spring morning, walked forth into the city, leading by the hand a little child of five or six years old. The former was dressed in all the fantastic finery of the times; she had a pink bonnet, ornamented with a bird of paradise, shaded with huge bows of wide ribbon; sleeves which caused her taper waist to appear like lean famine supported on either side by overgrown plenty; her gown was of such redundancy of plaits and folds, that a whole family might have been clothed from its superfluities; and while with one hand she led the little girl along, in the other she held a cambric handkerchief worked with various devices, and bordered with rich lace, reported to have cost fifty dollars. The little child was dressed as fine as its mother, for she unfortunately had light curly hair, and was reckoned a beauty.

They passed a toy-shop, and the child insisted on going in, where she laid out all the money she had in various purchases that were of no use whatever, in spite of the advice of her mother, who alternately scolded and laughed at her for thus wasting her allowance on things so useless. The child seemed to reflect for a few moments, and thus addressed her mother:

“Mother, what is the use of those great sleeves you wear?”

The mother was silent, for the question puzzled her.

“Mother, what is the use of that fine bird on your hat?”

The mother was still more at a loss for a reply.

{465} “Mother, what is the use of having a worked handkerchief, bordered with lace, to wipe your nose?”

“Come along,” cried the mother somewhat roughly, as she dragged the little girl out of the toy-shop, “come along, and don't ask so many foolish questions.”

MISERIES OF BASHFULNESS.

A modest woman dressed out in all her finery is the most tremendous object of the whole creation.—_She Stoops to Conquer_.

Of all the evils which harass the human family, none is perhaps more tormenting or more difficult to be removed, than bashfulness—a feeling sufficient in itself to blast the most promising hopes, and render comparatively useless the most brilliant abilities. To this evil, from earliest recollection, I have been painfully subject, and to its influence upon my character and habits, may be traced the many difficulties I have met with in my passage through life. Gifted by nature with a mind of no ordinary caste, which my modest and retiring disposition, while it precluded me from the enjoyment of society, induced me to cultivate, at an early age I had acquired a large fund of useful and polite information. This circumstance induced my parents to send me to the University of ——, then the most flourishing institution in the country. The first term after my arrival passed off drearily enough, but after becoming familiarized to the habits of my fellow students, and to the customs of the institution, I became better satisfied with my situation. Nothing of importance occurred until the time appointed for the examinations came on. I had applied myself with assiduity and vigilance, and flattered myself that I had completely mastered the exercises appointed for the occasion. Among the candidates for graduation there was an individual whom I shall designate by the name of C——, and whose connection with my narration compels me to mention him. He was the son of a southern planter, of immense fortune, and to a person of almost faultless beauty united great liberality, which his princely fortune enabled him to stretch to its farthest limits. As may be imagined he was quite a lion among the students and ladies.

Towards this individual I conceived a certain feeling of dislike from my first introduction, which a more intimate acquaintance with his character ripened into hatred. He was proud and overbearing in his deportment towards his inferiors, and even amidst his immediate friends and acquaintance he possessed a certain haughty and imperious bearing, indicative of the exalted opinion he entertained respecting his own merits. His mind was not remarkable for strength, nevertheless he had some shrewdness or cunning, which the vulgar are apt to mistake for talents. As I have before observed, the time for the annual examination had arrived, and no culprit in the gloomy walls of Newgate dreaded the fatal toll of St. Sepulchre's bell—the gloomy herald of many a sinner's entrance into eternity—more than I did the arrival of the hour when our exercises were to commence. A large number of ladies and gentlemen had been invited, and among the number was my father.

At length the University bell tolled the appointed hour, and we were drawn up on a stage in front of the assembly, from which we were concealed by a curtain, as yet down. At a given signal the curtain rose and presented to our view a numerous concourse of both sexes, among whom I distinguished my father seated on the front row of seats, prepared no doubt to witness his son's triumph. A sight of his countenance served to increase the confidence I had in my powers, and to dispel the embarrassment I felt on the occasion. The student at the head of the class answered the question put to him with perfect ease and composure—so did the second. I stood third; as soon as my name was called by the examining professor, I felt the blood rush with such velocity to my face as nearly to cause blindness—my brain reeled—my eyes swam—and although I perfectly understood the question, my confusion was so great as to hinder utterance. The question was passed to the next, who was C——; he answered it. The mingled shame, mortification, and rage I suffered, are indescribable. I retired from the contest, and the prize which I could have gained was awarded to my abominated enemy. I returned home with my mortified father, who persuaded me to endeavor to overcome the painful and unfortunate failing, which he perceived would blight my future prospects, by mixing largely in society. In pursuance of this advice, soon after my arrival in my native town, I determined to attend a large party, at the residence of one of my mother's fashionable friends. I suffered acutely from the time I received the invitation till the appointed night. At length it arrived, and I, attired in my best suit, with no aristocratic touch, rung the door bell. The servant ushered me into a large and splendidly furnished room but partially filled. The courage I had summoned for the occasion, like Bob Acre's, “oozed as it were from the palms of my hands,” and I remained standing in the door-way as immovable as if (instead of the gay and fashionable assembly who were gazing at my strange appearance with so much astonishment,) the Gorgon Medusa had turned upon me her petrifying look. The harmonious note which at that moment stole from Bennett's eloquent cremona, diverted their attention from my person and restored me to something like consciousness. I advanced into the room, and was cordially greeted by mine host and his lady, who were old friends of my family. The dancing now commenced, and the rooms gradually filling placed me in a rather more comfortable situation. I was, however, far from being easy. In order, as I thought, to calm my perturbed spirits, I seated myself on a sofa, situated in a corner of one of the rooms. I had remained there but a short time, when the voice of some one engaged in earnest conversation striking upon my ear, I turned my attention in that direction and perceived my late triumphant enemy C——, conversing in an animated strain with Miss ——, the only daughter of the wealthy and hospitable owner of the mansion in which we were passing the afternoon. Miss —— was evidently much pleased with the subject as well as the manner of the speaker, and he seemed inclined to make the best possible use of the advantage he had gained. They were however joined by a large number of ladies, who in their anxiety to reach Miss —— completely surrounded me. Yes—I who would sooner march to the cannon's mouth, or attempt to scale the fortress of Gibraltar, than face a female, was literally blockaded—totally {466} surrounded by decidedly “the most awful things in nature,” a company of full dressed women. C—— was perfectly at ease, and enjoyed heartily the dismay and confusion under which I labored. Perceiving that the only possible chance of escaping, would be speedy action, I endeavored instinctively to effect a retreat, but in vain. As I arose, I encountered the huge sleeve of a female attired “in all the glaring impotence of dress,” which impeded my egress. On attempting to return, I ran foul of a talkative little creature, and left her minus of about half of her head dress. The little lady was in a rage; however, there was no time for delay—so I gave her no apology. At length I reached my seat on the sofa, on which several ladies had seated themselves. After some time, I endeavored to enter into conversation with the damsel who sat next me, hoping that it would afford me some alleviation; but the attempt was abortive. My tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and refused to utter whatever ideas I might have had in my brain—through which passed in rapid succession, the last opera—the fancy ball—Shakspeare—Moliere, &c. &c., without affording its wretched owner a theme on which to commence a conversation. In vain I made strenuous exertions to collect my scattered thoughts—the attempt increased my confusion. At last the approach of a servant with a waiter of refreshments opened a passage through which I dashed. The exulting laugh of C—— reached my ear, as I cleared the little crowd collected around him. In my passage through the room I met a servant bearing a freshly opened bottle of Champaigne. Seizing a glass brimfull with the sparkling liquor I tossed it off—another, and another—and then “a change came o'er the spirit of my dream.” I was immediately changed from the bashful and timid character in which I had hitherto appeared, to the bold, impudent, easy man of the world. An almost irresistible desire to make female acquaintances seized me, and I was determined to indulge it. Meeting a friend at the moment, I requested him to give me an introduction to every lady in the house. At this sweeping request my friend was surprised beyond measure, knowing well my former disposition. However, not being able to refuse, he led me up to a fresh, rosy-looking Miss, and gave the necessary introduction. I bowed, and in doing so nearly lost my equilibrium. I, however, succeeded in gaining my footing, and commenced conversing. By this time, I had given such unequivocal indications of the effect my Champaigne potation had produced, as to induce my friend to withdraw me from my fair acquaintance and insist upon my taking leave of the “festive scene.” But what man has been known to take good advice when he is at all inebriated. I refused to retire, and to disprove the suspicions of my friend, I determined to dance the next cotillion. In accordance with this resolve I wended my way through the crowd till I discovered the lady to whom I had been introduced, and solicited the pleasure of her hand. We stood up to a double cotillion, and at that moment the music struck up. The animating and delightful sensations produced by the wine began to subside, and my mind commenced gradually to comprehend the almost insurmountable difficulties of the situation in which my rashness had placed me. I had no more idea of dancing than a bear just caught from the woods, and as for the figure of the dance, I would sooner have attempted to solve the hieroglyphics inscribed upon an Egyptian obelisk. Every moment developed new difficulties, and fresh obstacles were cast in my way by every second's reflection. Oh! how bitterly did I repent the many opportunities I had omitted of learning the trifling (in the abstract, yet important in reality,) accomplishment which I so much needed then. However, it was now too late to retreat, and I was about to dash forth and perform some random capers, when my companion checked me with the information that my time to dance had not yet come on. To increase the awkwardness of my situation, I discovered myself to be corporeally tipsy, though mentally sober. I was therefore afraid to move, lest I should evince my unlucky and disagreeable situation. As a _dernier resort_, I resolved to watch the graceful and easy movements of my companions in the dance, and, if possible, to gain some slight information concerning my unenviable employment. At last my turn came round, and with bent knees and clenched hands I advanced. In attempting to make a flourish which was to have been followed by a bow, I lost my balance, and tumbled at full length upon the floor. The roar of laughter which this feat called forth still rings in my ears, and a recollection of the scene always covers my cheeks with blushes. I arose from my incumbent posture and hastily excusing myself to my partner, rushed from the house, heartily wishing for “a lodge in some vast wilderness.”

MARLOW.

FIRST LOVE.

BY J. C. McCABE.

There is a thought, still beautiful, though years have roll'd along, Which stirs the wave of memory, and wakes her wonted song— Which rustles 'mid the heart's dead flowers like midnight's mournful breeze, And dove-like spreads its soothing wing o'er passion's stormy seas. No crime can dim its purity—no cloud obscure its ray; But like the temple's altar light, its steady beams will play, All sweetly hovering o'er the soul, like spirit from above—— O, 'tis the thought—the holy thought—of boyhood's early love!

When years have wrinkled o'er his brow, and furrows traced his cheek, And his once glad voice is trembling now in lapses faint and weak; How thoughtful is his glance, as on his slowly rolling tears, There floats along that fairy form he loved in boyhood's years. And then—O then, that heart (like harp hung up in ruined hall, Untouch'd, save when the night-winds sweep along the mould'ring wall,) It gives a wild tone from its chords, the pilgrim lone to tell, Though desolate it still can yield to melody's sweet spell. {467}

Oh, cast him on the stormy sea, when Death rides on the surge, And sea-nymphs chant around his head a melancholy dirge, While struggling with the giant waves, from their embrace to flee, That lov'd one's voice is whispering of halls beneath the sea. And as far down he swiftly sinks, and billows o'er him foam, A thousand phantasies appear, and o'er his vision come; But _one will_ keep its vigil there, though storm and tempest sweep, Unmoved, though burst upon by all the billows of the deep.

Go place him in the battle's front, where death and carnage meet, And his country's flag unsullied is his warrior-winding sheet; When from his heart is oozing fast the darkly purple tide, And victory's shout a moment fills his dying eye with pride— The wild and lingering look he casts, as heaven's own arch of blue, Like the vision of a summer dream, fades slowly from his view, Speaks—clearly speaks—of vision'd joys—of home beheld once more— Of the image of the one-loved form in sorrow bending o'er.

EROSTRATUS.

I.

Early in the afternoon of an autumn day, in the first year of the hundred and fifth Olympiad, the keeper of the light-house which then marked the entrance of the harbor of Ephesus, announced the approach of a vessel, which, from its size and proportions, he decided to be from Corinth or Athens. Crowded, as the port of Diana's favorite city at that time was, with sails from every maritime town in the Mediterranean, where commerce was cultivated, the arrival of a vessel was an event of hourly occurrence, yet the news of the approach of this spread rapidly through the city. The magistrate left the bench, the merchant forsook his warehouse, and the mechanic dropped his tools. All hastened to the quay. It was expected that this vessel brought the news of the results of the Olympic games. With such rapidity the lusty rowers plyed their oars, that the most experienced eye could scarcely decide whether the approaching bark carried three or four banks. The helms-man was singing the prize verses of the games, in which all the oars-men joined at intervals as a chorus. Soon she neared sufficiently for the pilots, who stood upon an eminence, to decide that she was the Sphynx of Corinth. She presently came within speaking distance, and the name of the victor in the poetic contest was demanded. “Leonidas of Mægara,” was the reply. Other questions succeeded until the Sphynx was moored in the harbor, and then followed, amidst the embraces of friends and relatives, more minute inquiries and particular replies touching the events of the games, which then excited an interest in every land where the Greek tongue was spoken, of which the moderns can form but little conception. Preparations for the customary sacrifices to Diana of the Ephesians, Neptune, and the Winds, in grateful return for the prosperous voyage, were quickly made.