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7Ci GIVE ME THE LIBERTY TO KNOW, TO UTTER, AND TO ARGUE FREELY, ACCORDING TO CONSCIENCE, ABOVE ALL OTHER LIBERTIES." Miltox. New series, R. I. WYNNE, Publisher. RALEIGH, FRIDAY, JUNE .1 1, 1852. 7 :- VOL. V. NO- 22. C. C. RABOTEAU. Editor. J . rniTrn-TTT thy a Tf ttittPI ttt- rnin" TA t! IT j . -. .1 1 1 . - 1 f 1 L . J I I .. t t .'IV '13 r I I r . h t 9 . - . i t 1 1 : I t 1 11 i n Ft I -v ga an a wi awwmi. M n uwsro n i ' . - . . i , . . ; ! .- T TEEMS : . !. The Times is issued every Tlmrsday, nnd mailed to subscribers al Two linllurs per iiinimn, in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if not paid in six months; Biid Three Dollars if payment be delayed to the end of the subscription year. ; ITT To Clubs, v e will send Six Copies for Ten Dollars, and Twelve copies Tor Eighteen Dollars, when the money accompanies the order. - ' ' ADVERTISEMENTS, Not exceeding fifteen lines, will be published one time for One Dollar, and Twenty-live Out for each subsequent insertion. . Court orders and Judicial A.d vertlsemeiits be charsred 25 per cult hiyl er. A reasonable l.'ui."ti n will be "made to those who ad vertise by the year.- . ''"- T. tters to the E !!tor must be post paid. Money for the Office nviy be sent by mail at enr risk, in pay ment for subscriptions, advertisements, jobs, &c. Office ox iayettcvili-e sr., one door below rosT office. A FAMILY PICTURE. ; The following story, so admirai-ly true to nature, which we copy from ihe "Au gusla Mirror," is from the pen of Judge LoXCiSTREET : "I describe a Georgia family. It is a fairspecimen of Georgia families generally, -the heads of which are parents of good sense, good morals, and well improved minds. To be sure, there are in Georgia, as many notions about parental 'govern-, inent, as there are in any other country, and the practice as various as the opinions. Some parents exercise no government at all ; others confine themselves exclusively to the government of the tongue ; and oth ers rule by the rod alone : but by far the larger class, blend these several modes of government, and prefer the one or the oth er according to times and circumstances. To this class belonged Mr. and Mrs.' But ler, the heads of the family which I am a bout to describe. Gilbert, was the chris tian name of the husband, and Eliza of the wife. 1 was .intimately acquainted with them both, before their union : and was ever afterwards admitted to their house hold, with the freedom of one of its mem bers indeed I was a connection of one of them - - ." ' '" '.-'-" '. '- They had been married about eight months, when a dull November evening found me at their fireside. In the course of the evening, the conversation turned upon raising children. 'By the way Eli za," said Gilbert, 'I have been thinking for some time past of interchanging views with you upon this subject ; and-there can never be a. better time than now, while Abraham is with us, whose opinions we both respect, and who will act as umpire between us.' " Well said Eliza, 'let me hear yours. 'If we should ever be blessed, with chil dren . Eliza blushed aliule,") let it be a. fundamental law between us, that neiiher ; of us, ever interfere with the discipline of j the other, either by look, word, or action, in the presence of. the children.' 'To that rule I most heartily subscribe.' 'When a child is corrected by one of us let not the other extend to it the least con dolence or sympathy.' . 'Iu that also you have my hearty con currence.' " - . 'Let us never correct a child in a pas sion.' : '- -' . . " .; V ' -, . - - 'The propriety of that rule I fully ad mit ; but I fear that I shall not always be able to conform to its requisition. I will, however, endeavor to do so.' - 'Well if vou will do your best, 1 shall will do your best, 1 be satisfied.' 'Let us, as far ?s it is practicable, intro- duce anions our children, the universally admitted principles of good government a mong men.' ' - -- 'That is a very indefinite Yuiehusband, I know very little of the principles of good government among men ; and much less of those principles which are universally admitted.' . " ' ." - 'Well, I will be a little more specific.-r 1 believe it is universally admitted that laws, should precede ptmiskment : and that none should be punished who are in capable of understanding the law.' In ac cordance with these principles,' I would never punish a child, who la incapable of distinguishing between- right and wrong, nor uniR he shall have been forewarned of 1 the wrong, and taught to avoid it.. ' 'These principles seem very -reasonable to me,' said Eliza, 'but they can never be applied to children if you do. not correct , a child until it is old enough to learn from precept the difference, between right and 'wrong, there will be no living in the house with it for the first five or six-years of its life and no controlling it afterwards." Gilbert received these views of his wife with some alarm, and entered upon along argument to convince, her that they were erroneous, one maintained ner own very well, but Gilbert had certainly the ad van ' lage of her in the argument.. All he could say, however, did not in the least shake her confidence in her opinion 1 was at length appealed to, and J gave judgment m favor oi Gilbert 'Well,' said she, "I never was belter satisfied of anything in my life than I am . that you are both wren. But let us. com promise this matter; I'll .agree to this : if ever I correct a child before it is old enough to receive instruction ifrom precept;-and j'ou do not approve, of my conduct I will then promise you never to do the like a gaiti.' ' -; - - . ' . . ,... '-. --. ' - ,. - 'Well,' said Gilbert, 'that is verjfuir. One more ride will settle the fundamentals, and we may safely trust all others to future adjustment.- Let us never address our chil dren in the nonsensical gibberish, that is so universally prevalent among parenis,and particularly among mothers. It is very silly in the first place,' and it "greatly retards a child's improvement in (he second. - Were it not for ibis, I have no doubt children would speak their mother tongue as correct ly at four years old, ns'thcy do at sixteen.' Eliza smiled, and observed, that this was stlch a small matter that it had also better be left to future adjustment. To this Gil bert rather reluctantly assented. V . : - " About two months afier this conversation, Gilbert was blessed with a fine son ; whom he, named John James; Gilbert, after. the two grand fathers and hi mself a profusion . of names which he had , cause afterwards to repent. . Just fourteen months and six days there after he was blessed with. a fine daughter, whom Eliza "ntimcd'Ann Francis Eliza, after the two"-' grandmothers and herself. Fifteen months 'thereafter,, he received a third blessing, like unto the first ; which he called George Henry, after his two brothers. " Thirteen months and nineteen cays after the birth of George, a fourth blessing des cended upon Gilbert ia the form of a fine son.. This took the name of William Au gustus, after two brothers of his wife.' Eliza now made a long rest of nineteen months, four days and five hours, (I speak from the family: record,) when by way of amend, she presented her husband a pair of blessings. . As 50011 as bis good fortune was made known to him, Gilbert expressed regret, that he had not reserved his own name until now, in order that the twins might bear his own name and mine. See ing this could not be, he bestowed my name upon the first born; and gave me the privilege of naming the seebnd. As I con sider ;a good name, rather to be chcosen than great riches,' I called the innominate after Isaac the patriarch, and a beloved un cle of mine. ' ' ' ' In this very ' triumphant and laudable manner j did Mrs. Butler close the list of sons. - . - She now turned her attention.' to daugh ters, and in the short space of five years produced three, that a queen might have been proud of. .Their names in the order of their births, vTerc Louisa, Rebecca and Sarah. , It was one of Mrs. Butler's max ims, 'If you have any thing to do, do it at once,' and she seemed to be governed by this maxim in making up her family ; for Sarah completed the number of children. John was about a year old, when I was again at Gilbert's for the evening. He was seated by the supper table with the child in . his arms, addressing some rcmaks to me, when I called his attention to the child, who was iust in the act of putting his fin- j gets into the blaze of. the candle. Gilbert ! ierked him away suddenly ; which so in censed 'Master John James Gilbert, that he screamed insufferably. Gilbert tticsed him, ! . 1 - 1 ? - . ..1 pauect nun, waiKcu linn, unu i nuutu iu him, but he could not distract his attention from the candle. He removed him'out of sight of the luminary, but that onlymade matters worse. He now commenced his first lesson in the 'principles uf good gov ernment.' lie brought the child towards the candle, and the nearer it approached, the more pacified, it became. The; child extended its arm to catch the blaze, and Gilbert bore it slowly towards the liame uhiil the hand came nearly in contact with it, when he snatched it away, crying 'bun ny fihnies !'. which is by3'our interpretation, 'you'll burn your fingers, !' '-Eliza and I exchanged smiles, but' neither of us said anything. , ; - " ; ? : - "' . y ' -. ; - The child ' construed this into wanton teazing arid became if possible, more ob streperous1 than. ever. Gilbert now resort ed to .another expedient. ' He. put his wn fingers into 1 he blaze, withdrew them sud denly, blew them, shook,' them, and gave every sign of acute agony. This not only quieted hut delighted the child , who signi fied to hitli to do it again. , He instantly perceived (what was practically demonstra ted tho 'minute afierwards,) that the child was pining a most dangerous interpretation upon his last illustration . He determined therefore, not to repeat it. The child, not satisfied with the sport, "determined to "re peat it himself ; which the father opposing lie began to reach and cry as belore. There was but one experiment left, and that was to let the child feel the flame a little. This he resolved to try, but how to .conduct it properly - was ;not so easily settled., It would not do to allow the infant to put his hand into" the blaze because it would ei ther burn it "too lit'Ue,or too much. He dierefore. resolved . to direct, the .baud to a point so near the flame, that the increasing heat would induce 'the child to. withdraw his hand himself. - Accordingly he brought the extended arm'slowly towards the flame; the child becoming inore "and more impa tient with, every- moment s . postponement of its gratification, until the- hand; came .within about an inch of the wick, when he held the child stationary. But John would not let his hand remain stationary nor at the chosen noint. "He kept snatch itig at the" candle, tfll finding all his effoits fruitless, he threw, himself violently back, gave his Jiither a tremendous thump on the nose with the back of his head, and kick ed and screamed most outrageously. . '-;--." ..' You little rascal',; said Gilhert, 'I've a good mind to give you , a' good spanking..' ,: . ""Give him to me said Mr?. Butler. :' 'You'd better not take him',' said Gilbert, in an under tone, 'while lie jsln such a passion.'- 'v., v '.;--''.'r-1; "' ';--",:; s-V--' ; No danger said she, 'hand him to" roe.' As she received him, 'hush, sir! said slie sharnlv; and the child hushed instantly and.! was asleep in a. few miriutes, 'S t.-ange,' said ' Mr. -Butler, 'how much .sooner the mother acquires .control over a child than a father.' ' . ,2Tot at all,' said Mrs. Butler, You would have controlled him as easily as I did, if you had given' hi hi the same ; lesson beforchahd that I gave him. He got in just such an up roar the other day,, and finding nothing else would quiet him, I panked it out of him ,; and I have had no trouble in quieting him since.' " .'-.'-- ','' -; - ": '. . ;" - " ' . ." ';' ;, I begin-to think Butler,' said I, 'that Eli za was right in the only points of difference between youi touching the management of children. . 1 observed that you addressed the -child just now in the gibberish which you so much condemned before you pecame a father: and though )t seemed ridiculous, es-ec-ially- in you, I think it "would have ap peared still mOre ridiculous, if you had said to a child so young, 'John, my son, do not put your fingers into the flame of the Candle, it will burn them.' And your ex periment has taught you the absolute im possibility of governing children of very ten der years, by prescribed rules.' I am half inclined to your opinion,' said Bgtler. 'Eliii's discipline has performed several good offices.'. It has relieved us of John's insufferable noise; it has -taught him to control his temper at its first appearance, and it has learned him the meaning of a word (hush,) which will often supply the place of correction, and always forewarn him of desires unlawful. '' Lonsr before the second son arrived at the reasoning age, Gilbert abdicated, unreserved-' ly, in favor of his wife; contenting himself with the subordinate station of her ministe rial officer; in which he executed her orders in cases requiring more physical strength than she possessed. "- . Passing over the intermediate period, I now introduce the reader to this family, af ter most of the children - had reached the age of reasou.' In contemplating the scene which l am about to sketch, he will be plea sed to turn his thoughts occasionally, to Gilbert's principles of good government.' Sarah was about two years and a half old, when Gilbert invited me to breakfast with him oneDecember's morning neartheChristT mas holidays. It was the morning appoint ed for his second killin g of hogs: which, as the southern reader knows, is a sort of fam ily carnival in Geor-ria. I went, and found all the children at home, and Gilbert' mo ther added to the family circle John and Anna had reached the age when they were permitted to take seats at the first table ; though upon this occasion John being en gaged about the pork did not avail himself nf his nrivileo-e: the rest of the children wefe taught to wait for the second t.iblo.- Breakfast was announced, and after the ad ults and Anna had despatched their meal,, the children were summoned. As they had been taught not to seat themselves to the table until they were bidden, and there were some preparatory arrangements to be made, they all gathered round the fire, clamorous with the events of the morning. . 'By Jocky,' said William, 'didn't that old black barrah. weigh a.heap! 'Look here youiitr gerlleinan,' said his mother, 'where did you pics up such lan-o-uao-e as that? Now let 1110 hear you lj- jockying, or iy-ing any thing else again, and 1 11 by jocky you witn a witness, ji 11 war rant you.' -' ."-;.'- 'But the black barrah,' said George,did'nt weigh as much for his size as' the bob-tail speckle, though.' -. 'He did.' ; :- L : V ; " -. 'He didn't.' ' : ; ' ;;," '; - 'Hush your disputing this instant stop it- vou' shall not contradict each other in tha't.manner. And let 11s hear ho more of your hog-pen wonders -110 body wants to hear them.' ' . ' ' ' ?;""' '; At this instant William snatched a' pig tail out of Isaac's hand. : - " 'Mm,' said Isaac, 'make Bill gi' me mvh tail. 'You William give him his thing. And, if I was near vou I'd box vour ears for that snatching. Mr. Butler, you really will have to take that fellow ii: hand. , He's;gettiner so that I can do nothing with him.' ' -T , 'Ma,' said Bill, he took my blatha 'iiuah: '--'.-.' ,j-V -'-:- 'i didn't.' . .: '-, ,;:.; , ;- . - -. You did.' . . - -- . - ':. 'Don'. I tell you to hush your disputing. - 'Well,"ma, uncle York give it to me,', .... 'He didn't, uncle Monday give it to me " '-; He didn't.' r ' ;. ' . ' ' : ; V -'-. 'He did.' ' " . '. ;- VJ. ; - Here the mother divided a pair- of. slaps equally between the two disputants, which silenced them for a few moments, - - - At this iuncture, Miss Rebecca cried out with a burnt fingen which she received , in cooking another pig-tail. The burn was so slight, that, she forgot it as her, mother jerk ed. her from the fire. . .--X ---! X . ' . ' 'You little vixih.'.said the mother, .'wh possesses vou to be fumbling about the fire! Mr.'Butier I beseech vou to forbid the ne 2roes Viving - these '"children any ; more of these poison pig-tails.' "They are a source of endless torment. And now young gen tlemen one and all of you the next one of you: that brings one of those things into" this house again I'll box his ears as long as I can hnd him; - Now remember it.' Come along to your breakfast.' ' ". ' In a hide time after sorne controversy a bouf places which was arrested by the mo ther's eye, Oiey were all seated '; John -who bad dropped i in in the mean time, taking his father's seat. . ; - ;.--'.-;. ,- -v !Is-s-cp!' said William, 'sassidges, that's what I love.' ' ;, ''i-.-. ;v " "-..i: ;X. ' . 'Hoo f said Jake, ',Spare-ribs!,tliat's what I love. - rc: U. :v-;''':v:.X: -'.: I: 'Well cease your gab, and eat what's set before you. without comments . Nobody cares what you love r what you don't love.' - 'Souse said Abraham, 'I don't love souse I wouldn't eat souse, ta'n't fitten for a dog to eat.' ' " .l'--'-?."' '" C I?'- 'Get up sir ; right from the table, and maVch out of the house until vou learn bet- ter manners. I'll be bound if I you shall eat souse, 'you eat it. xja you jiear me sir. - Abraham raked himself lazily out- of his seaf, and "moved slowly off, casting' a lofig ing look at the many good things on the ta ble which he thought 'fitten lor a prince. to eat.' - - -;.-..v- :;- -;-.. 'Ma,' iaid he as. he retifdI wish you'd make Bill quit laughing at me.' 'William, I've as great a mind as I ever had to. dp. any tiling in my life, to send you from the table, and not let you eat a single mouthful. I despise that abominable dis position you have, of rejoicing at your bro ther's misfortunes, Remember sir, what Solomon says: 'he that is glad at calamities shall not be unpunished.' . ; . ; ; 'Ma,' said Abraham, 'mayn't I come - to my breakfast?' -'" "."; ':'";."-'--'.;'' 'Yes, if you think you can now behave yourself with decency. ' - - - Alnaham returned ; and they- all broke forth at once, - - - . 'Ma, may'nt I have some sassidges? Ma, I want some spare-rib. Ma, I a'n't got no coffee. Ma, if you please ma'am let me have some ham-gravy, and some fried hom- ony, and some t ?rg, and '. "-.'Atid. sor-ie-of thing on th table I suppose: I'.' t dov.'.W yruir plat-;s- every one of you. George what'll you have.' ; 'Some sassidge, and some' fried 'tater.' J 'John, help y-our brother George.' 'What do you "want 'William?' 'I want some sparerib, and some fried homony.' : ; : ' r: . '";'''- "- - -":'' . '; 'Chaney, help William.' 'WThat do you want Abraham?' - 'I reckon,' said John smiling, 'he'd like a little souse.' " ' . ;' 'Now John behave yourself. He has suf fered the punishment of his fault, and let it there rest.' . -; 'I'll have,' said Abraham, 'some ham gra vy, and some egg, and some homony.' 'Help him Chancy.' ; 'What'll you have Isaac' - . .. 'I'll have some ham-gravy and some hom ony and some sassidge, and some spare-rib and some ' - " ' " 'Well, you're not a going to have every thing on the table I assure you. What do you want?' ; 'I ant some ham-gravy and some hom ony. 'John help I- No, I don't want no gravy, I waut some spare-fib.'- ;.-.. ... .;. ;-; ' -.; 'John give him- ' ; ' 'No, I don't want 110 spare-rib, I want sassidge- ' . - 'WelFif you don't make up your nn'nd pretty quick, you'll want your breakfast, I'll tell you. I'm not going to be tantalized all day long with jour wants. bay what you want and have done with it. I want some ham gravy and some sas sidge and some homony.' ; 'Help him John. . ' '-. ' John helped him to about a tea-spoonful from each dish.' Now ma. iust look atbud John! He lia'nt arr me only list these tnree nine dus o 011. John, if you cant keep from tantalizing the children, tell me so, and I will not trou ble you to help them' any more. I confess that 1 anv at -a loss to-, .discover-, wnat. plea sure one oi your age .tan take in teazmg your younger brothers. - -".. -; 'Rebecca what do you want.' 'I want my pig tail ma'am.' . 'Bless my soul and body! hav'ut you for got that pig tail yet. Its burnt up long ago hope. Look Bob and see, and it it isn t, ve it to her. I wish in my heart there never was a pig tail upon the face of the earth.' :--- "''' Bob produced the half "charred pig tail and laid in on Miss Rebecca's plate. ; 'There,'- continued her mother, I hope now your heart's at ease. A beautiful dish it is truly, for any mortal to take a fancy to.' 'Ma. I dont want this pig tail. 'Take it awav I knew vou did'nt want it, you little perverse brat, 1 knew you did'nt want it; and I. don't know what got into me to let you have it. But really I am so tor mented out of my life, that half the. time I hardly know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels.' : -: - - 'Mis'es,' said Chaney, aunt Dorcas say please make Miss Louisa come out of the kitchen- say if you doiit .'make her come out o' the fire'she'il git burnt up presently -sny every time she tell her come but o' the fire she make mouth at her.'. -- ' 'Why sure enough, where is LouisalGo and tell her to come- into her breakfast this instant.' ' '.-''- 'I did tell her ma'am : and she say she -won't come, till she : gets done bakiu' her cake.'. ..." - ---- ; ' -.'-' . ,- - " - ' " lr. Butler left the room, and soon re-appeared with Louisa sobbing, and cry ing : 'Aunt Dorcas jerked me jist as hard as ever she could jerk, 'fore I did any thing 'tall to her.' -'; '::'-v'---',": ,' "- - 'Hold your tongue! She served you right enough, you'd no business in there. You re a pretty thing to be making .mouths at a person old enough to be your grandmother. If I'd thought when I p-ave vou that little lump of dough, that the whole plantation was to be turned up side down about it; I'd have let you do without it.' ; j Miss TLouisa, after a little sobbing and pouting, drew from her spron, a small dir ty, ashey, black.' writikled, burnt biscuit, warm from the kitchen shovel, which would have been just precisely the proper accom paniment to Miss Kebecca sdish: and upon this, in preference to every thing on the ta ble,: she commenced her repast. -vj ' " ; ".'Well Lou,' . said the mother with a laugh as she cast her eye upon the -unsightly bis-, cuit, 'you certainly have a strange taste' ' -Every . body knows, that the mother's laugh is always responded to with compound interest by all hor children. So was it in this instance; arid good humor," prevailed round the table." ' -- :- :- 'I'm sorry7r said Abraham, 'for Louisa's b-i-s, bis, k-i-t, kit, bisfcil.' ' - . , Well really,' said. Mrs. B.,.'you are a handsome, speller.: Is that the way you spell biscuit?' ." . : ' -- '.' " -.. 'I can spell it ma!' bawled out Isaac.", , s. ' 'Well spell it.' -'-- ' O ; ;- fB-i-s, bis c ('Vvell ; that's right,') -h 'Ah well, that'll do, you needn't go suy farther; vou ve missed it farther than your bother.' " ',"- . ' .'.'-: ' ; - 'Spell it William.' . :. Williu m spelled it corf uctly. - 'Ma,' said George, 'what is biscuit deri ved from?' - ' ' 'I really do not know,' said Mrs. B. 'and yet I have somewhere read an explanation of it. John what is it derived from? John. From the French ; bis twice, and aif baked. ;i-;;'-- .' ' '"''' William. Why ma, you don't bake bis cuits twice over!' ' ' i Jibraham. Yes ma does sometimes;do'nt yen ma, when company t omes? .:-. - ; Jtfothtr. No; I sometimes warm ovci cold ones, when I havn't time to make fresh ones, but never bake them twice. - Builer. Tliey .were first made to carry to sea: and they were, then baked twice over ; as I believe sea biscuit still .. re. Isaac.Ma what's breakfast 'rived . fro in ? .Mother. Spell it and you will see. " - Isaac. : B-r-e-c-k, breck, f-u-s-t. fust breakfast. .:; .';" . .Mothpr. Ve Ike, you are a grand spel ler. Break-fiist, is the word; notbrcck-fust. Jlbraham. I know what it comes from. ' .Mother. What ? Abraham. You know when you call us chil'en to breakfast, we all break off and run as f'txi as we can rp'it. Mother. Well that is a brilliant derivation truly. Do you suppose there was no break fast lefore you children were bom? Abraham. But ma, every body has chil'en, Mrs. Butler explained the term. Isaac. Ma I know what sassidge comes from.- . , - - Mother, What ? .". .. ' Isaac. 'Cause its got sass iu it. Well there, there, there, I've got enough of your derivations unless they were.-better You'll learn all these things as you grow older. ' Just here, Miss Sarah, who had been breakfasted at a sidetable, vvas seized with a curiosity to sec what was on . the break fast table. . ; V: Accordingly, she undertook to draw her self up to the convenient elevation by the tablecloth. Her mother arrested her just in time to save a cup, and pushed her aside with a gentle admonition. This did not a bate Miss Sarah's curiosty in the least, and she recommenced her experiment, llermo ther removed her a little more: emphatically this time. These" little interruptions .only fired Miss Sarah's zeal: and she was return-, in to the charge with redoubled ..energy, when she ran her cheek against the palm of her mother's hand with a rubifacient force. Away she went to her grandmother, cry ing, 'Gramma, ma whipp'd your precious darliii' angel baby.' Did she my darling ! Then grandma's precious darling angel babymust be a good child , and mother won't whip it any more.' 'Well I wi!i be a good chile.' . 'Well thou mother wont, whip it any more, ' And this conference was kept, up '.without the variation, of a letter '.on" either il th e grasiuniollicf .fficti it ex pedient to ...remove- Miss Sarah to an ad joining room, lest the mother should insist upon the immediate fulfillment of her pro mises, : ; '" "; '.-'. ;' 'Ma, just look at Abe !' cried out Wil liam, 'he saw me going to take a biscuit, and he snatched up the very one I was looking at.' - : " 'Abe,' said the mother, 'I do wish I could make you quit nicknaming each oth er ; and I wish more that I never set you the example put down thai, biscuit sir, and take another.' - - Abraham returned the biscuit, and Wil liam took it up with a sly, but triumphant giggle at Abraham. ' 'Ma,' said Abraham, 'Bill said ' Cod durn.' - ? -.-;:;' .'-.''.''' 'Law, what a story ! Ma, I declare I never said no such thing.' : ' Yes you did, and Chaney heard you. ' ' William's countenance immediately showed that his memory had been refreshed,-.and he bawled out 'never none now,' with a. tone and countenance that pie inly imported guilt to some extent. His moth er suspected he was hinging upon technics and she put" the probing question 'Well what did you say ?' .'" ' -'-"--:" 'I said, I be teto'tly ,od,i;rn.'" ' 'And that'3 just as. had Mr. Butler, you positively will have to take this boy in hand. He evinces .a strong propensity to profane swearing, which if not corrected immediately will become ungovernable, ' Whenever you can't manage him, 'said Butler" as befote, 'just turn him over to me, and 1 reckon I can cure him.' v tWhen did he say it V enquired the mo ther, returning to Abraham. "-" ' ' You know that time you sent all us chil'ea to the new-ground to pick peas V 'Why that's been three mouths ago at least ? and you've iust now thought of tel ling it . Oh you malicious - toad you , where do you learn to bear malice so long! I abhor that trait of character in a child ' 'Ma? said Bill, 'Abe ha'nt said his pray ers for thtee nights,'" . --'. ;- -' - -'. Abe and Bill now exactly swapt places and countenances. , -, ' .- -" . . -' -". ', : 'Yes,' said the mother, 'arid I suppose "I shotdd never have, heard of that, if Abra-i ham had not told of your profanity. '1 know better,' dragged out Abraham, in reply to Williiim.' -; ------- .. '-' -. ; ; ,'; '-; 'Abraham , ' said r-the mother solemnly , did you kneel down when you said your prayers last night?' -.'-. - - .. - 'Yes ma'am, said 'Abraham brighten ing a little. '" " '. -' ' ' "- . -'."': s 'Yes ma,' continued Bill, he kneels down and 'fore I say 'now; 1 lay me down f to sleep,' he jumps up every night and hops lfi.bed and says he s done said Ins prayers, and he ha'a't had time to say half a prayer. . - '.. ."I-'-,',-.. ..;- - - :. . During this narrative, 'my name sake kept cowering under the , steadfast frown of his mother, until he- transformed him self into the perfect pcrsomGcation of id- y io-y. --.:".;, ;.'.-., , -'.--,. - 'How many prayers did you say last jiight Abraham?' pursued the mother in au awful portentous tone 'I said one, and '(here Abraham paus ed.) . --'. - . -"- - 'One and what?'. .'One aiid piece of t'other one.' 'Why ma, he could'nt ha' said it to save his life for he had 'nt time ' - . 'Hush shy I ddnt ask for your assistance.' ' I did,' muttered. Abraham, 1 1 said t'other piece after I got in bed.' . ' 'Abraham,' said hismoiher, 'I declare I do not know what to say to you. I am so mortified, so shocked at this conduct, that I am completely at a loss how to express myself about it Suppose you had died last night after trilling with your prayers as you did who can say what would have become of ycu ! Is it possible that you cannot spend a few minutes 'in prayer to your Heavenly Father, who feeds you.who clo'Jics you, and who gives you every good thing you have in the world.' You poor sinful child, I could weep over you.' Poor Abraham evinced such deep contri tion under this lecture, (for he sobbed as if his heart would break)that his mother deem ed it prudent to conclude with suasives ; which 'she-chd in the happiest manner. Having thus restored Abraham's equa nimity in a measure, with a gently encour aging smile, she continued ; 'And now Abraham,, tell your mother how you c imc to say a part cf the second prayer?'; - H could'nt go to sleep till I said it ma'am. 'Well (hat is a good sign at least. And what part was it V ' God Mess my Father and Mother.7 Mrs. Butler felt quickly for her handker chief. It had fallen from her lap, and she was glad of it. She depressed her head below the uible in search of it dismissed the children before she raised it and then rose with a countenance suffused with smile3 and tears. ' '" ';" - 'Poor babes,' said she, 'what an odd compound of good and bad they are !' ' The grandmother returned just at this time, and discovering some uneasiness at Mrs. Butler's tears, the latter explained. As she concluded 'The Lord bless the poor dear bo-,' exclaimed the venerable matron, raising h:r apron to her eyes, 'that shows he's got a good heart. No danger of the child that can't sleep till he prays for his father and moiher.' FROM TI1K HOME JOVRXAI.. nun. LIFE IN ENGLAND. I! Y W . K. rvOKTII.U.I., M. THE FAIR. 1 have in a former paper spoken of the excitement which was weekly produced in T- on the occurrence of Market day; but the bustle and confusion of fifty such days was a trifle compared to that occa sioned by the fair, which was held once a year, and always in the month of June. I don't know why they had " a fair at all, unless it wa; fur the frolic and amusement of the thing, for it certainly hud 110 busi ness objects., But, however j it was held and hail been for years beyond the memo ry of that eternal authority the oldest in habitant; and-so L shall note its odd fea tures, because they helped to make up the face of society in T - . . - There was a sort of square in the upper part of the town which f for three hundred and sixty days out -of the year, was a ter ta incognita t y most of the inhabitants but whichon the few clays of preparation for the fair, and on the day of the fair itself, became the great ccntie of attraction. In this place the shows and stalls, the moimtr ebanks, and the thousand and one things which serve to make up the fun and en tertainment of a country fair, always as sembled. -For miles round the farmers gave their husbandmen a holiday on th's occasion" '. Children look forward to this day as one of unmixed enjoyment, if those pleasures can be called unmixed whtch are. extracted from a chaotic confusion of dolls and gingerbread, taffy and picture-books. As a professional student, I felt bound, of course, to express a serious indifference to such light affairs, but, truth to speak, 1 felt a cheerful interest in the matter. Hap piness is contagious, and, I must : confess, I could not see the lads with their lasses, men with their wives, parents with their children, come into the town all in their holiday. 'attire,.' their faces glowing with health and good humor, without catching the infection. I love to see people happy ; it is a foretaste of heaven. ,1 pity the man who ever gets too old to fire off a cracker, or so dignified as to look upon a doll with f a .... 1 . . -1.1 contempt. 1 hey are associated witn tne simplicity and beauties of childhood, and, depend upon it, that man is rotten at the core who can tligtitly treat such harmless means of child.sh happiness. I love a girl who is fond of her dolt; it shadows forth a beautiful instinct;" and I cannot say but 1 like a rogue of a boy who has courage e- nongh to piii a cracker to the coat tail of his school master, providing always it is done when! fun is the order oflhe day. On -one of their fair days in T- , I was witness to a little incident.'which gave me n 0-1-ent deal of nleasure at the time.' In a small laue or alley leading out of the main street there was a; cottage .occupied by a very poor family. "The man who lived in it was a day labourer. He had a large family-, which his earnings but barely supr ported. He would receive no aid from the parish, having some of that; independ ence which tradition s.iys once marked the working man in merry England. His vomv'cst child, some nine, yeais of age, - T 1 . - - . - was a cripple, and, withal, ; of Veeble and (delicate health.- His infirmities had made him (lie peculiai object of his mothers ten derness and care, fn the summer she 11 sed to place his little chair at the end of the lane next, to the main slreet, and here he would sit for hours watching, with ap parent interest, everything which passed. One fair-day 1 had business at the shop on the opposite'eoiner of the lane where the poor cripple pat. f know iiot why my at tention Was particularly drawn' to him 01; that occasion, unless it was the sadness I always feel in seeing, when al! is pleasure and gayety around, one too sad or too dis abled to parsake of liie general joy. Ilia face at this time appeared to be marked with unusual nicla:ichohr. All the child ren he knew' werd gone to see the shows and partake of the spoi ls of the fair, whilst he, poor fellow, was alone apparently for saken. Not so, however. 1 saw coining across the ctreet, from their father's house, Dr. C 's two little hoys, the eldest a- bout twelve years of age. They were dressed in their holiday attire, j The one had in his hmd a large fine humming-top,-and the other a pretty whip. I watched them, for I was a little surprised fo see them crossing the street, instead of taking tiie direction which led to t leiSquare, and I was pleased to see they went to the poor cripple. I was not near enough to hear what thev said; but I saw them rmile and shake hands w:th little Tem.Mv', and then I sac the younger of the boys give him his humming-top, am', directly upon that, the other gave his whip a tremendous smack, and put it into the cripple's ham!. Tom my ceemcd confounded. lie looked first at one, and then at the other, scarcely a b!e to comprehend his good fortune. His face paled a little; his lip quivered, and then I saw him draw his sleeve across his eyes, and I thought the boys looked sad. It was but for a moment, however; sun shine came, Tommy smiled, and Iu3 little friends laughed outright, whilst one set the top going near h;s chair, so that Tommy couklwhip it round without moving from his se. Then there was a little co'i er sation between the three, and the eldest boy went running off to Tommy's house, and soon returned, laughing and jumping. What could Le the cause of the mirth? Suddenly the two noble fellows started off home, but, quick as thought, I saw them returning, pulling wiih all their might a little wagon. It was no ivcrk to brincr up ihe carriage to the desired spot. What were they going to do? God bless the chil dren, if they were not lifting Tommy out of his chair, and putting him into the wag on. JVow they both turn horses; Tommy uses his whip, and away they draw him towards the Square, where all the fun. is going oil. Good lads! may kind fortu.ie wait upon you, and, as you remembered the poor cripple, may God bles? and re member yor. j Let us fohow the wagon to t!i3 fair, for there can be no harm in going 'wherever such noble little fellows would lead the way. What a noise and confusion. Here a gentleman, dressed up in all the gew gaws of royalty, inviting the assembled multitude to ''walk up and see the play." There, a fellow, 'with stentorian lungs, proclaiming the wonderful accomplish-' ments ol a learned, jug; another inviting at tention to "the greatest giant whatever was;" and "the weiy smallest dwarf the hastcnished voild hcversaw;" How little Tommy clapped his hands, and oh! how his dear companion! enjoyed his delight. It was better than all the shows t to them. Just outside the .Square, the .Mountebanks had made their ring. 1 011 dont pay in id performance- of I'liere h not," a 3 wo shillings for a half a child;" but They make theit England to sec tiiegra; the Mountebanks. the Frenchman said, grown-up person, and all is free and open. j profits from a rsort of lottery or raffie. Tick ets are carelully rolled up ami put into a hat, from which, by paying a shilling, you select one at random. If you happen to draw a prize, you are entitled to a snuff-box, a pocket handkerchief, a pair of gloves, or some other trifle of that kind; if a blank, you only obtain the laughh r of the bystanders. The prizes, 1 ought to remark, are very scarce. TheJ mounte banks drew a very large audience upon this occasion. Among the crowd, and ve ry near the ring, I was glad to see the lit tle wagon and the boys. 1 could hardly take my eyes from little Tommy; his sun shown out so brightly, despite the clouds which had obscured it in the morning. I am sure if he had not. been, lame he would have jumped a yard high when the clown leaped, into the ring and cried 'out, "Here we are how; is your mother?" i Tommy was not alone in his delight, . for everybody laughed. Who could with stand the exceeding humor of the assertion or the question, "Here we arej how is your mother?" He who could not laugh at such a noel joke is fit for 'murder, stratagems and spoils," But see the riding-master, in tights and spangles, has en tered the ring: see how gracefully he bows, and lht-n with what an air he flourishes the wl ip he holds in his hand, ; and now hear what he says. "Now. Master Billy Button.", (To the clown.) ' - - - - - i "Yes, sir." -, -;-.;. "I wish you, sir, to particularize to the public." . '. "I shan't sir." " : '''.'. ''What, sir?" (Smack goes the whip-) "No, I shan't, sir. "You won't?" (Another smack.) "Do you. think, sir, I have come this way to uosuch a thing 113 that?" . ( Concluded on fourth pngi.) . all
Raleigh Times [1847-1852] (Raleigh, N.C.)
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June 11, 1852, edition 1
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