Issuu

RichmondCollege Vol. VII.

No. .2.

RICHMOND, VA., NOVEMBER, 1881.

EDITORS :-Mu Sigma Rho, PERCY G. ELSOM, D. M. RAMSEY; PhiloloMONTAGUE, C. R. SANDS.

gian, A.].

BOARD OF PUBLICATION:-Philologian, R. L. TRAYLOR, J.B. WILLIAMS, C. W. ANDERSON; Mu Sigma Rho, D. M. RAMSEY, L. R. BAGBY, W. H. HOGE.

AMOR AMICI. The following lines we take from the Amateur Press. Tbey were written by a talented young lady, and although she is now dead, this little gem deserves to live after her. 路 Oh I sweeter than music, at evening, From lips that are loving and true, And fairer than visions of dreamland, And softer than falling of dew, And richer than earth's richest treasure, And purer than infancy's tear, And more to be prized beyond measure Than aught which is granted here, Is the , love of a路 friend that will cling to us still, When the heart-buds li e withered and trampled and chill; That will plant a fresh flower on the grave of the past, _To flourish, and bloom, and be sweet to the last. If unto thy prayers such a friend shall be gi~en, Oh I keep the rich gem as the best gift of heaven.

E******路

I'm willin' a man should go tolerable strong Agin wron1g in the abstract, for that kind of wrong Is allers onpopular and never gets pittied, 'Cause it's a路crime no one never committed ; But he musn't be hard on particular sins, -'Cause theri he'd be kickin' the people's own shins. -Bigelow Papers.

Richmond College Messenger. WHAT IS A TRUE STATESMAN?

In these days of political fluctuations men are heralded and appellated statesmen, by the press of the country, who have never displayecl any knowledge of governmental policy, or an over-burden of brains; m fac_t~ "All 'are' deeme_d, e'en from the cradle, fit To rule in politics, as well as wit; The grave, the 'gay, the fop)ing, and the dunce, Start up (God bless us) statesmen all at once " h

Surely this sentiment, which many give credence and advocate, is fraught with tendencies that must be productive of the most pernicious results. The most casual observation suffices to convince us that this <wuntry is swarming with so-c'alled statesmen, and the question spontane, ously suggests itself, Why this sudd~ appearance, and great glut in : the political market, of statesmen? The answer is plain. 'I_'he American people allow favoritism, in other words, partisanisrp, to weigh too heavily ip, the:;,formation of their conceptions of statesmen; and as fayoritism is diversified and plentiful; therefore, in a corresponding ratio may we expect statesmen. If a man hold a prominent p9sition in your party, or in mine, he is dubbed a statesman. Undiscriminating praise, and a boundl,ess adulation of our political friends, should ~ot wevent us from detecting their character_istic defects, or hinder us from contemplating the " huge spots on the blazing disc of 'their genius." In plain terms, because a man is my party leader and political hero is no reason that he should be a ~tatesman, and vice versa. The leaders of parties are not always statesmen, a'nd parties should not be so vain as to think that ;;.11the1r prominent advocates are men of .the calibre of Aristotle or Lycurgus. Do not understand me to decry parties, for all must admit that parties are essential to the welfare of any form of republican government: at the same time we should bear in mind the faq that parties must have limits to their partisanism. Let us no' think that the party makes the statesm .an, but that genuine integrity of character, true patriotism, and sound pqlitical principles, (for the~e three elements constitute the statesl1)an_,) are oftener imbihed from domestic and parental education, than in public seminaries of learning, and in the confines of party specuJation â€˘ . A~ajn,: th~ fallacy that mere knowledge of governmental machinery

What

is a True

Statesman?

. constitutes the statesman. This is obviously untrue in principle as well as in fact and experience. Knowledge is an essential attribute of a true statesman, but knowledge alone does not make the statesman. History affords us examples of men with gigantic intellect, and vast knowledge of governmental works: yet these men were not statesmen. 'None can question, in rererence to the understanding of governmental workings, the attainments of Themistocles, Cataline, Bonaparte, and Cromwell : but none honor these men with the subIn this country, Alexander .Hamilton lime appellation-statesman. and Aaron Burr illustrate my assertion. These men display as much knowledge of governmental policy and political research as any this country has ever Âˇproduced;- still few, indeed _, call them statesmen. We must admit that Mr. Hamilton's words and , actions indicate t'hat his entire political aim was to assimulate the form of this g@vernment to that of England. There is abundant evidence that Colonel Burr ' Âˇ used his whole knowledge of government for the purpose of deposing his country, and for his own aggrandizement. I merely mention these names as illustrative of the fact that knowledge alone does not make the statesman ; for these men were " beyond a shadow of a doubt " anything but statesmen, and every school child is intimate enough with their r<':spective histories to know that they were men of great mental capacities. What constitutes the statesman if knowledge does not? I answer that the heart, or genuine morality, is more important in the make-up of a statesman than brain or mere knowledge of governmental machinery. I hold that every statesman must 'have a thorough knowledge of the workings of his government, and that this knowledge should be based upon conscientious principles that in no way ought to .have connection with any purpose or design, whatever, but which tend to the universar w~lfare of his country. That is to say, if party principles do _not coi:ncide with your ideas oi a govern ment's welfare, then by all that is moral and just, cling to your own principles in preference to those of party, or sectionalism. No man can be a statesman who is guided by sectionalism or partisanism. But it is asked, Since you embrace partisanism so fully in your definition of a statesman, does it not follow from your argument that no 'man belonging to a party can be a true statesman, as .partisanism, df some 'degree, must exist between fwo contending parties? By no . means. Statesmen are essential to parties, but not the invariable con stituents of these bodies. If a party be devoid of statesmen it follows from logic and experience that 'the party degenerates into a faction, the sole object of which is to promote corruption and dishonesty, and .

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to gain public rell!uneration. It is not my purpose to give the respective definitions of parties and factions, for the distinctive features of difference areI obvious to all. · It is necessary that parties have men to advocate their principles, and often these men are statesmen ; but no man is a statesman who s3:crifices his principles to the changing whims of a pl/.rty. • Men ought to be subservient to, and further the supremacy of, their parties so far as parties have jurisdiction, but must remember that there are great , issues in the course of every gov~rnment which are not pert,inent to party in the least degree; therefore should be considered, and acted upon, in a non-part'isan mann~r. When political men ponder, and act upon, these funaamental issues-which ask their consideration as men unallied to party, clan, or section-in a calm and philosophical man• ner, ,then it 1sthat the attributes of a true statesman are clearly visible and beautifully dilineated. The true statesman is guided by principles, and principles never change, for if they do they cease to be principles. Statesmen elevate parties as much so as countries ; while on the other hand so-called statesmen and petty demagogues debase politics and degrade countries. Burke might be citerl as a statesman eminently conspicuous for his strict maintenance of political principles. , We have seen him advocating measures, against the haughty will of Britain, with a fortitude and energy "unaw'd by po~er, and unappal'd by fear." None can doubt but th,J.t Burke's exertions ·in behalf of America in ' regard to the English-American war were evoked •from the purest patriotism, and based upon the soundest principles of h\s own g<wernment's science and welfare. Few instances in history reproduce Burke's example. He was th~ same at aB tim~s 'and under all circumstances; ever guided by his motto that a thing could not be politically right and morally wrong. He was cool, and possessed much foresight in times of public throes; patriotic, wise, and unbiassed in times of peace and prosperity. What nation does not wish for, and envy the genius, the patriotism, and sagacious statesmanship of such an one? .The doctrine largely prevails that an office-holder ought to execute the wishes of his constituency regardless of his cQnscientious convictions and plighted oath ; in other words, the representative is merely Surely the analogous argum .ent does not the tool of hjs constituency. hold, that the constituency bear the same relation to the representative as there exists between presentation and representation; that is to say, in simpler language, the representative is entirely dependent upon his constituency as to what course he should persue, what plans and prin-

What

isa

True Statesman ?

ciples he must advocate. Without presentation, as all know, there could be no representation, but we must · see that this relation exists in no degree of similarity between the co~stituency and the repr~senta tive. The people, as a mass, are indebted to their political leaders for the ideas they hold in reference _to governmental policy, therefore it seems fair _to cpnclµde that the representative is oftener the presenter than the real representer,· certainly this supposition is in direct accordance with experience. Solon compared the people to the sea and orators to the winds, inasmuch as the sea would remain quiet and calm if the winds did not trouble it. This adage seems especially befitting .to these times. The greater part of the people would remain content but for the harangues of demagogues and menaces of party leaders. I would not be understood from this as decrying popular suffrage, for since the formation of reasoning faculties . I have entertained the belief expressed in the old proverb, " Vox populi vox .Dei ": still we should not fail to distinguish the differenc e between the " vox" of a people unexcited by prejudices or self-interest, and that of a people gi~en to none of these vices, or, as some say, enticements. But to come back to our subject. · The writer does not, in the least, object to the representative being the agent uf his constituency; but we must remember that there is a significant difference between the agent and the tool. Mr. Webster, and many others less distinguished, considered the representative as merely the tool of the people: yet, in the .face of this, I hold that no doctrine could be more injurious and more incompatible with the duties of a true statesman. I Which should be law, the ~elfish wishes of a corrupt people, or the_ sagacious principles of a statesman? Should a representative execute the desires of his constituency when he knows that these desires 'are unconstitutional, therefore in direct conflict with the laws which ~e has sworn to support .? Certainly non€ can hesitate as to .what reply they make to these questions. Yet the affirmation of these questions are polished by such instruments as party success, and then go through a most mysterious process of deglutition, after which they become a part of the incorporated being and are held as no-wise incompatible with the principles and oaths of a statesman. The true statesman holds his honor and principles above office, the so-called statesman holds his office dearer than principles and honor. The true statesman addresses himself to the reason and morality of men, the so-called works upon their passions and prejudices. The true statesman endeavors to perform every just act which will benefit people at large, while the so-called ·statesman only executes the desires

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Richmond College Messenger.

of clans, sects, and monopolies,--and p~rforms these wishes solely that thereby he n{ay gain or retain office. I do not oppose · the idea in every case that the office-holder ought not to execute the wishes of his constituency, but the point I attack is this, men affect the opinions of their constituency in order . that they may gain or' retain their favor and support. This mode of proceeding is upon the principle that the end justifies the means . Let us have office, and it matters not the -means by which we secure this boon. Such is the principle which animates our modern stat'esmah . ., Every day but serves to convince us that the so-called statesmen clutch after office; and gain it by any means, fair or foul; in fact, by death itself if necessary. We have to make no special efforts to discern that the modern diplomatist uses the inean~ death as quite a lever power to gain the hopes and longings of his soul(?)-an office. Such means are wrong in law and morals, hence wrong fo the actions of would-be st;itesmen. But the modern statesman ,must have no •fixed principleq; he tnust gain office, for party success demands it. Thi~ is the motto of .the modern statesman; indeed, no long time has elapsed since in our Congress the Hercules of this class of statesmen boldly proclaimed that the means sank into insignificance when party success asked for the enactment of some Jaw or the division of sectional spoils .' 'The honor and principles of"no statesman 11:anbe transitory. The man who advocatPS these:: principles one day and those another can never come under the category · of statesmen. Changing public leaders are to be abhorred. No country could ask a greater blessing than be rid ·of · · "A statesman, that can side with every faction., And yet most subtly entwist himself, When he hath wrought the business up 'to danger.''

This class of political men receive the title of statesmen, but any one possessing reason and morality sees that there could be no grosser misOur political' leaders application of the import of statesmanship. I should lay aside their party and sectional ties, and put forth their best · efforts in behalf of our common country; then our "longings sublime and aspirations high" will be realized, and America-despite the sneers of older nations-will be resplendent in the ,galaxy of the earth's kingdoms. , Politicians should use no dissimulation; for no 'element more inconsistent with the statesman can be found. Position gained by dissimulation ,tends in no way to ma:ke the man a statesman ; but, on the other .

., \

The Trials of a Student.

hapd, it ,diminishes ,and degrades his moral faculti~s, and as 路I have strived to show that morality was the main el~ment in t,he sta,tesman, therefore it weakens the powers of any statesman. Bacon says, " Di simulation is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom; for it asketh a strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell the tru;th, and to do it; th,,refore it is the weaker sort of politicians that a.re the greatest. dissemblers." The writer hopes these concepts of a statesman will meet with the approval 9f some of our readers, In conclusion I would say, let .our public men, a11d especially leaders, be guided by a strict principle of mora\ity, and the firm maintenance of justice to all grades of mankind, ' and happiness "where no crude surfeit reigns" . will be the result of their efforts, and our country will rest unshaken upon t,he pillars. of "liberty, vi.rtue, . glory, knowledge." M.

THE TRIALS OF A STUDENT. We well know that almost all people have ~heir own peculiar tri.als and toils and cares in the great battle of life, but then there's a certain class called students (though some of them, we are sorry to confe,ss, never prove their right to that title,) that are .especially blessed(?) with an abundance of little worries and 'other things that send silent pangs 路 to the heart; the unpleasantness of which only a student can know. In the first place, it's disagreeable even to mention and make public these little perplexities-in fact, it's a trial. But as murder and all other ; bad things will out, we suppose you'll somehow or other find out about our little catastrophies, and we might as well make a clear breast of it at once . One tremendous bother of a路 student is long , and hard lessons. We always did think when a professor gives out a i:ec'itation, he forgets he was ever a boy, or believes in the adage "misery loves company," . or something of that sort. Sometimes, however, by dint of labor; together with much puffing and sighing, the studen~ masters these half-mile lessons and is happy-what little there is left of him! Th ~ again, if he doesn't succeed, it's a trial, and with a hea~y heart he adds it to his list. 路 At other times, when his soul is fired with youthful enthusiasm and romance, he picks up his Latin or Greek and b~gins to translate, thinking that. he see~ ev~n in the cla~sjq; a reHeration of his dreams of fancy. He

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College Messenger.

lays the .book down and congratulates himself that _he can _.read it "bully." On the µiorrow comes the test. " Will you translate"? asks the dignified and sedate professor. Our hero bursts forth in strains of sophom"ric oratory, and is. only check ed by the kind gentleman of letters. "Where under the sun is all that, Mr. ---." And dare you say that this is not a trial? Then, too, somehow o~ other, the girls-bless · their dear heartsseem to thi~k that the poor student knows everything, and · during his · vacation or " calico " calls"When he yearns to be free from care, And invites the gentle breezes to flirt with his hair"-

then it is that his sweethearts ply him with questions as to something that happened in ancient times, or 'Yant hirJ" to work some great problem, or to relate some legend that belongs to · mythology, and ought to stay there. Now, the poor fellow hasn't the manliness to ponfess his ignorance, and so tries to prove himself equal to the task, but, of course, winds up in confusion and dismay, vowing to himself that he will make every one o( his next session's ·reports · average one hundred ! What are the e but trials? The constant burning of the midnight lamp is a severe trial to the student, especially if he doesn't possess enough vigor of mind to solve the problems that are daily given him. It is a trial to him-and a great one-to fail in an examination or recitation after he has spent hours and days in its preparation ; it is a trial to him to hear his kind instructor tell him to -" practice up on this," when he misses some , example, for he well knows what those words, spoken so kindly, mean; and lastly, it's a tr ial to him, after he has spent so much time and care in the cultivation of his moustache, which he is patiently preparing f.-.r some special occasion, to have it suddenly and mysteriously to " strike in " ! ,· But enough of this-you see we have difficulties with which to con- · , tend-and that is all we wish to show. Our trials, however, after'all, are for the best. · They rob us 1of our conceit, by showing us that others have far greater claims to intelligence and talents than we; they make men of us by teaching us that honors are won by merit a.nd perseverance, and come not by inheritance; and, finally, these trials, this college discipline, fit our minds for higher and nobler positions in life, and enable us to appreciate more highly ~he inestimable advan~ages. of education, , which are ours not by gift, but by toil and labor. 0

' STUDENT.

' .

9I SELF-MADE - ..

MEN.

" Man is hi~ qwn .star," · says the poet. He is not, a satellit~ <;OD, ;:. trolled by ano~ht,i:.plan~t; but, ratht;f, h~ is_a fj.x~d,st~r,1t,IJ.em~te ,r ·of his- own a~tions. '\Y]J.ether cin;1tmstances make. men~ qr ,men make cjrcumfitanFcc;s,is.a topic w,hic};L the writer,does I).Qtpur,po,s,e tp discqss, in, this paper ,;. but, t~kil)g s~lf-maq,e m_en, lJ.She finds them, will,not~ce some of their characteristics. · ' · Pe_rha_psa definit,i<?P. of self:made ipen_ sh91,1ldbe s~ttleq on in the outset. , In one_s~nse, I).O rµan is. s~1f-rµ,ade. Every one h,as heard of tl).e bigot w.:ho . boa!\tfully. assert~d that he_wa,s a self-ma4e man ; whereupon, a, wag stcJ:ndingby wittily rel?lied, "Wel~, sir, I_am gl,ad to kn~w that Y,QU,hav~ mad~ yourself, for that . ~eleases_ the , Creator from, reprqach for hay_ingIl}_l!,d~ such a man .'' It is evidently not meant that any mjrac;u1ous p9wer has been used. by the individual to whom this appella,tton, is.given, i,i;i bringing him_self'into existence. , • Lik~wis~. ippap. cannot be self-made, if w;e regard the term to ·have r~fe,rence <?P,JY to , thq,se improve~~nt~ which the mal).has_made for the elev;ati9i;i,of, }),ii;moral; so<;ia~ ; aµd intellectual natur .~. It is impossible foi: one to live in the world an!l not receive much v,alu~dassistance' ~:t;o,m his; friends . ~-µ4 compaJ?,i(?ns. When the o,ld man whom the world ,calls self-macle, at the end of his life retrpspects his career, he sees-all along the . j,ourney of life where he_has been the reciP.ient of de~ds of kindne~s which haye had a telli_ng effect upon his life and its successe~. _er sen_se, in which it can be said that every man of Then; , is :;i.µ,oth true w9:1 ;th is s~lf-made. , Wealtl). may not have been accumulated b}'. the m~n. ,who possesses it, reputation and social position may come as an ancestral lega.<;y, but t~e qualities which make the · character and true worth of · Il)an are_ the prod_ucts of his own labor. By almost univerfial <;;on.sentthe. wealthy <!,regiven but little credit, however great their attainments ,may be. This is evidently wrong, for oftentimes the . sqns,qf t_he w,ealthy have greater difficulties to enco_unter, in becoming learned, t}),an!do boys of humbler circµrpstances. Many things conspj;re to ~a:ke their intel .lectual attainments difficult. Society makes heavy. dei:nand.s. upon their time, not having to rely upon their own labor: for succesi:i,anµ a scort, of similar difficulties militate against their intellectual attainments. . ' In 1 its absolute sense, aU great men are self-made; but-, in t!Je discussion of tl).is subject_is rpeant Qy the self-m!lde man t.hat man whq,, 2

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notwithstanding his obscurity and poverty, rises to positions of honor and usefulness. I conceive that the particular ·circumstances ,urrder-which self-made men labor, have both advantageous and disadvantageous -effects. I have time to notice and comment upon a,few,of each kind. / The student of human nature, or even the casual observer, has been struck in many instanc~s with the defects in the characters of self.made men, which are to be assigned to the necessary circumstances of their lives. Oftentimes there is a sternness in the self-made man which gives him a haughty and defiant manner . The consciousness of having sprung from an obscure family, the ·marked deference " paid to the sons of horntted men, the striking · inferiority of his wearing apparel, together with being the object of sport, all tend to give a resentful spirit to· the boy ,of humble estate. He soon · learns to look with suspicion upon every nod, wink, or side-glance which he chances to see. These feelings increase as years pass, and when the man enters upon the active duties of life, 9e has acquired such a sternness that the mam~er in which he treats an opponent or competitor amounts to discourtesy and unkindness. He congratulates himself and boasts to other men, that he is a plain, blunt man, and he thinks that is a sufficient reason why mankind should cheerfully bear all of his insults t and ·injuries. · Egotism iis preeminently a fault of self-made men. If this fault could be pardoned under any circumstances whatever, . it certainly should b@done in -the case of self-made men. 'It is quite evident that egotism grows out of the necessary circumstances of self-made men. Success generally bestows a feeling of self-confidenre upon the fortunate party, but victory makes the victor vain. It is often said that . small mi~ds only are susceptible of vanity; but common observation and historical facts corroborate , each other in showing that the literati are sometimes endowed with a superabundance of egotism. The consciousness of having risen from a commo~ plebeian to a position of the highest honor to which a Roman could attain, caused Cicero to be vain and boastful. That his efforts to preserve Roine from the fury of the conspirators' sword and torch, and that his eioquence had ·hurled Rbme's vilest enemy out of the city, made each page of l_iisorations against Cataline fairly to bristle with the emphatic pronoun " ego." , The magnificenr victories achieved over Egypt, Tyre, and Jerusalem, in addition to the grap.d improvements · made upon his native

Seif-Made Men.

city, called forth the celebrated boast from the King of Babylon, "Is not this great Babylon that I have built for the house of the kingdom by the ·might of my power and for the · honor of my majesty"? The self-made man has not only been successful, but he is a conqueror. He has triumphed over obscurity, poverty, and ignorance. So there need be Iio surprise when he chuckles over his own merit and makes himsdf the hero of his own story. These are some of the faults of the self-made man . ·Unpleasant, indeed, are these blemishes upon his disposition ; yet I heartily commend hirri to your confidence · and sympathy, asking you to judge him leniently, and, "with all his faults, to love hj m still.'' · Having noticed some' of the objections to self-made men, I n0w turn to look at some of their redeeming traits, which may be styled advantages. No other quality is so universal in its application to this class of men as a spirit of complete independence. This is always admired, provided it does not attain to haughtiness. The world is outspoken ib. its denunciation of what politicians call a milk -and-water policy. The .very effort to succeed has taught the self-made man that a close adherence to doctrines and principles is absolutely essential to success,. iHis pathway has not been · strewn with flowers, nor has he been floating along upon a current of negative popularity, but his 'repntation has been gained by doing something. All of his experience has been a school continually developing a spirit of independence . If longstanding customs are to be abolished, if creeds, doctrines, or laws are to be changed, if great revolutions are to be made, or if religious reformations are to be effected, no one is so well qualified to brook the insults of the populace, ignore the bulls of a pope, or hurl defiance into the face ,of an unscrupulous tyrant as the self-made man, who has been accustomed from youth to meet with opposition. History abounds in striking illustrations of ·this ' fact, which rise, unbidden, before every mind. It may be ,put down as a rule that self-made men are not ashamed .to acknowledge their inferiority of birth. It is quite refreshing to see a man in high position not attempting to disguise the poverty and obscurity of his birth. It is said that Pope Sixtus V., upon being raised to the tiara, used to say, in contempt of the pasquinades that were made upon his birth, that he was domus natus illustri-born ·of an illustrious house-because the sunbeams, ,passing through the broken walls and ragged .roof, illustrated ·eve~y corner of his father's hut. There may be ,persons who do not iind

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pleasure in telling of the primitive manner ·of their raising, but rather magnify the hut into a princely mansion, ahd with quixotic extrava·gance speak · of the mule they had often ridden to mill "as the pampered steed of boyhood recollections.'' Yet, as a rule, I think the self.made man, like the old _pope, ·is willing to disrobe the inglorious past of the romance which 1time seems to give it, and present facts in their natural garb. · It is said that Primaslaus, who ·married a princess of Bohemia, was in early life a plain husbandman. So far was he from being ashamed ,of his former condition, that he preserved a pair of wooden shoes in remembrance of his poverty. The writer is not so enthusiastic over the subject as to assert that all men who have risen in the world are so honest as the example just given. Perhaps not a few could be found who, should they meet with the good fortune of marrying a rich lady, ·would not be disposed to preserve a pair of farm boots as a relic of their former poverty ; but, without a doubt, this style of independence is a characteristic •trait of the self-made man. "Paint me•as I am," said Oliver Cromwell, angrily, when an artist, wishing to flatter the •Protector, represented him without a wart which qeformed his fac;e. Cromwell knew that he was not •dependent upon personal .beauty for reputation, and the blemish upon his face would serve to ·distinguish him from the smooth-faced, shallow-pated cavalier. So the self-made man d<l>es not fear the reproach men may heap upon him for his previous poverty and obscurity, but, lik~ Cromwell, he is willing for the world to have his correct picture. How independent is the self-made man ! He seems rather to exult in his unrenowned origin than to feel the sensation of shame. As the war-worn veteran exhibits his wourids and scars as marks of his valor, so the self-made man exhibits his brawny limbs and rough complexion as palms of victory acquired on the battle-field of life. He has no reasbn to be ashamed of his origin on account of his ·poverty or unrenowned ancestry. It would be as becoming in the lily to look with scbrn upon the earth from which it springs, or the snow-flake to vail its head in the presence of the cloud which sends it forth, or the stars to blush at the blue canopy on 'which they hang, ·as for man, though he may stand 1on the pinnacle offame, to refuse to cherish and honor the memory of the mother who guided his footsteps in the path of 'rectitude, or to forget the fattier whose counsel has been as "apples of gold in pictures of silver." Yet the fastidious devotees of propriety seem to require this. Many' had their feelings amazingly shocked when President Garfield, with true filial affection, kissed his mother

Self-Made Men.

on the occasion of hi~ inauguration; an act, by the- way, which exhibited the principle of manhood that had changed the driver of a canal-boat into the chief magistrate of fifty millions of people. Again, the circumstances of the self-made man's life teach him selfrelianoe. This is so patent to all that ·it needs no expansion. Self'reliance is indispensable to success in every department of life. It is as essential to_the freshman as to the philosopher, to the ploughman as to the planter. To be a successful student not only requires faith. ful, independent study, but it is necessary for the student to rely upon his own judgment. For proof of this assertion one has only to revert to his own experience to see how he has gotten Jiorrible blue marks on a Latin or Greek exercise by being governed by the opinion ot somt! one else, though it was contrary to his own judgment. To the self.:made man the rem·embrance that every dollar which he spent in acquiring his education was made by llis own labor, that the towering mountains of difficulty have been tunnelled through by his owh firm resolution, that the stroke of grim ~faced poverty has.been averted by his own skill, is an assurance doubly strong that, by relying upon self more firmly, even greater victories may be won. "Nothing succeeds so ,well,as success,'' and nothing is such a guarantee of future success as the remembrance that in the past we have succeeded. _-It is also true that the self-made man is more philanthropic than ·other men . Having had many trials himself, he has l~arned to sympathize with :and render assistance to any who are struggling against misfortune. When pious JEneas, fleeing from burning Troy, came to Carthage after a long voyage of tempestuous .sailing, the compassionate · Queen Dido, upon hearing the recital of his trials, was greatly moved. Remembering her own turbulent life, filled as it was with sore trials . and bereavements, she.feelingly said: ·" Not ignorant of evil, I learn to give assistance to th~ wretched." Self-made men ~re proverbial for the interest they take in poor young men who 'evince noble principles. Especially do they take interest ' in those who are striving to obtain an education. • A prominent Georgia statesman, who is a selfmade man, has done an immense deal of good, and has ingrafted himself in many heaJts by aidin~ young men who were struggling to ilie. , Much 'more could be written upon this subject, but we forbear. Let 'no one suppose that his circumstances, whether he be rich or poor, ne'cessarily prevent him •from making achievements grand and noble. The gods are on the side of the brave, and always help those ," PALM. who help themselves.

Richmond College

Messenger

CHARACTER •OF LORD BYRON. I

Upon the moral character of no man as -renowned in the literary worlr as the subject of our ·brief sketch has there been a , greater diversity of opinion expressed. · ' In "Recollections of Lord Byron, from the year 1808 to 1818," taken from autp.entic , documents by R. C. Dallas Esq., we have the pictu!e of an individual in whom "resentment, anger, and hatred reigned without control; who could vent his rage against the Creator and universe ; who hated his own existence ; , who spurned the ties of relationship, and abjured even the society of his sister." '

Here we recognize the f9rce of those expressive words applied to this bitter misanthropist : "Lord of himself, that heritage ,of woe." Turning from this dark picture, we gather with pleasure t_he few and seemingly estray rays of sunshine which have fallen on the hist9ry of this ~tra:\}gelygifted and unhappy man. '

It is related that after the death of Mrs. John Shepherd, a lovely Christian woman, whorµ the poet had known in his youth, there was found among h_erpapers a most beautiful, earnest prayer on his behalf, · designating him as "one who is, I fear, as much distinguished for his neglect of Thee, as for the transcendent talents Thou hast bestowed on him." In a letter addressed to Lord Byron, the husband enclosed the prayer , very touchingly alluding to the life and death of this simple and faithful servant of the Lord. Th ~ reply exhibits Lord Byron in a mor_e ·.amiable point of view than is generally recorded of him. In alluding to the excellent lady so i~terested for' him, he says: "I would not ·exchange the prayer of the deceased on ,.my behalf for the united glory of Homer, Cresar, and Napoleon, .could such be accumulated upon a living he.ad" ! In accounts of his death -bed sentiments, taken from "Last Days ,of Lord Byron," he is said Jo have exclaimed, <', Time and space, who • can conceive? None but God ; on Him I rely'' ! , . With these facts · before us, we can but agree with a distinguishe\l author, who plainly shows that such malignant principles and passions .as displayed in the general tenor of Lord Byron's conduct, if reso,lutely persisted in, necessari ~y. lead to misery, while the evil effects of . ,an example so dangerous c; n never be estimated . Yet, with regard .. to ) ..ord Byron, we are disposed to indulge the hope that his 1malevo-

. f•

· Salutatory.

lent' disposition was in a great measure changed before he passed into the eternal world. · P. G. E.

Slightly paraphrasing Cowper's line, we can truly sayNove but an editor ,knows .an :editor's care.

Here we are, just on the threshhold of our duties editorial, confronted with the responsibility accruing with the honor we acquire as editors. The responsibility is .great:.....:.so great! Think of it, ye tender-heait ~d, and give us your sympathy, if you will not treat us to yom; counsel! Beside other toils at hand, we are perple~ed-shall we confess it?. with the topics we are to choose. Where shall ~e find them ? And then, after finding, how shall we treat them? . Must our themes be personal and concrete, or abstract and general? Shall we;discourse on divine philosophy, or revel in the •realm of poetry? Or, shall we go into the walks of history, and tell of Yorktown ; and what happened there on the 19th October, in the year of grace 1781? Or, is biography to be ours, with its rich and ·varied treasures of experiences which the subjects of such biography ought to have had, but never did? Or, will it please our reaqers more-we are here in .the cl\air editorial for their pleasure and not ours-if we shall confine ourselves strictly to college themes, and furnish the witty remarks of the lectureroom, the campus, and the debating societies? If we had space-if we had time~if we h1d capacity ("ah! there's the rub ")-we should like to exhaust the themes first hinted • at ; but, then, what would be the sense of it all, since the only readers of such immen'se work would be the printer and ourselves? We must t-herefore, per force, discuss, in a small way, small topics,' and we here give notice to all who wish to contribute, that we are not prepared , just now, to publish anything about Bacon and his inductive system, ,or about the newest theories of Darwin or Huxley. If topics be a: burden, what ' of the rest-the manner of treating them? Surely we want help from contributors; but who will give it?' We may count on "poetry," for every student (and especially the new student) -must needs write doggerel to please his .'' 'Angelina." But we are not prepared to say that poetry is what we wish. We can get along without it,; al'ld would recommend to our young poets "to find,fit audience" for their productions, not in the pages of the Messenger, but in the ear of inamorata herself, who will appreciate iUhe

Richmond CollegeMessenger. 111 01:ebe~-1-vseit i~ her "own blue ey,es," and h~r ." own. (air form," .,1d '' 4er own rosy cheeks '' which ar~ tht rein held pp foF a§;1?:J. 9i~ti91! and delight. We want help. Give us such as you can, the best you can ; but give us no st;rains abou_t Cupid, 01 : :Jcl).Y.thing of the sort. With , this bow editorial , not more graceful than that of Patrick Henry when instructing young Corbin in the Convention, we shall take our seat and address ourselves to hard woi:k.

. .. EDITORIAL

NOTES.

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Let's nia~.e our p9plicati gn a Messenger in t,he_tr"uest;. highest sen_s~ ;i a Messenger car;i:ying to the old students al).d fr;iend1>o( t,he col,eg~

tidings whic~ will awaken pleasant recoll~ctiops of col,lege life; a Messenger bearing manly sentiments and; n,oble aspirati9ns to 'the dop ~ of every h,~art that , will open , at our gentle rap; a Messenger w4jch _, let us trust, w,illcatch som.e of t~e i,r;i,spir,ati.Qn of learning and geni,u_s floati1,1g<!,bQ9tour noble ipstitution, al).µ,, in(<;:asec.?fa dr,ought, carry it, L~t om; mission bi.; to . all w,ho: will dr:ir;i:kqf the •'Pierian Spring" sow~th_ing like t)li_s, But ~s the J,n :ese~,t ag~ is-~ne o( re_spec;: ta,bility; and {a_s)liop.., let ,us l?e. care (ul ~o 9-ress. OJtl; Messenger in, his, Sunday. "dy~e~ "-th~t is,. le): us clo,~he ' him ,yitlJ. 09,t best g:i-r;ments ~f, thought. , Thep, w;hel).b.e: goe,s aroun<;l; to }iomts and htarts, the door;~ of hospitality will fly opep as ,if by-1!1 ,agic, and be 'Y,111 "eat, drip~, l,ll).Q be !lleri;y." Ti;ue, to gain the fav:q_ro( our phi)osophi<;:alfrier;ids; • w;e m9st put ori om; Messenger hi_sthin~ing-<;:ap; ~nd to iJ,lgra,fthim in, th,e love o,i a l:?etter class sti.11-~he ladies ----; we.ip,ay fj.nd i~ necess;iry.tq , ent"'.ine ab,o:ut him . a flow,er. 9f r,hetoi;ic o<;:c;isiol;)ally;but, tb.en,_a~l th.is..is n.Q.\ i1:1pos1sibl,e,, :;ind_so, feJl,ow-stud.en.ts, one :;1.pd::ill, be it , ovr pride . to ma).cequr Messenger 3:.fi.rst-<;12!,ss, genteel erra ,q.µ-boy. . ' QUERY.-Editors Messenger Will you.kindly inform me by whOJ:ll: · .. {s the following well-w,qr,n, t_hrea.dban , quot,ati_og? ,

"J;)eepy, da;rkly, be!!utifully 1/lue.'' .

I have not been able to , diiscover the au,thor, but hope to-be enligh~e ed through your columns-or pages, I sµould say. INQUIRER. I I\ is from Southey's •modern works, and .~s quoted bf Byron ~n. Don Juan. ~ Eos. How materially ,the true pieaning of a sentence may be per-verted: by the improper position of a comma is strikin.gJy illustr,ated in the following sen~ep.ce: "Woman ....... without her man, is a brute.' ,'•

Young Men, Why They are not Educated.

It is said that under Mohammedan government 1,0 school teacher's testimony is considered valid in court. The reason assigned is that any one who undertakes so difficult a task as training the young idea , cannot be in the possession of his or her sober senses, or, if any be founq weak enough to engage in such a pursuit, the employment of itself is compelled to completely derange the mental capacity. Happily, we are not ~o hard on this respected class in our enlightened land. "Young America," who considers his pedagogue as holding a position of honor as well as of unmitigated pleasure, cannot understand the in,.omprehensible stupidity of the young Mussulman. Each editor of this magazine, mirabile dictu, has three hands: with respect to nature, two; with respect to the Messenger, a little behind hand,-making in all, three. The first No. of our journal was late, and this has m;,.de natural curiosities of us, as above described. How many of our Junior English boys can parse th e following senteri'ce : " She said that that ' that,' that that boy parsed was a relatiye pro~oun . " '

[Oration by Mr.

J. A.

Barker, delivered at the reiinion of the Mu Sig Society.) Âˇ

THE DUTIES OF YOUNG MEN, AND WHY THEY ARE Âˇ NOT EDUCATED.

Many are tlie pleasures and advantages of educated men. This may learn from almost daily observation; Âˇ T.he linguist peruses the works of ancient writers, and stores his mind with brilliant ideas, which he communicates to others in the most elegant stylf. The historian records the important events of nations, the daring deeds and the grand achievements of men, and leaves, in his works, a rich legacy for those who are to come after him. The poet's imagination is excited, and he, almost unconsciously, gives a lively description of some Eastern lake, or paints, in shining colors, a picture of a mountain scene in the far-off West. The geologist examines , the interior structure of the earth, and brings to light its immense treasures_and wonderful curiosities that have lain hidden from human view all thr.ough the age~ of the pas~. . The geographer surveys earth's broad surface, traces the course of its winding rivets, 8

Richmond College Messenger.

gazes with ,pleasure upon its green· valleys and lofty mountains, measures its distances, determine s its positions, describes its inhabitants, and acquaints the lonely cottager with the manners and customs of . people living in all parts of the world. '.The astronomer, looking above into the heavens, by the_aid of the telescope sees the beauties and wonders of the sun, the moon, and the stars, and stands first, high .above all others, in beholding the works of a Divine Hand. The statesm:1n, familiar with the government of his country, strives to secure and continue its prosperity, understands the necessities of his people, sympathizes with them in their political troubles, and uses his influence ' to promote the comfort and happiness of mankind. The orator, thundering forth his grand truths in well-rounded sentences, arguing from principles of justice and reason, sways his audience, convinces men .of error and wrong, prevails upon them to adhere to right, and wins for himself an imperishable name. But such men as these· are comparatively few. And whY,? There are many reasons why. On the part of _mankind there is a g[eaf lack of d,ecision, of means, of energy, o,f time, -of manliness-all of w)lich are necessary .to qualify men for positions of honor and responsibility . Of no class of persons is this more generally true than of young men whp grow up in poverty and ignorance. • They stand ~pon t,he threshold of manhood, undec _ided as to wliat their course in life shall be, ready to take the advice, good or bad, of any who may chance to com_e along, unconcerned about the difficulties with which they may meet or in what their acts will result, having never asked themselves whether they are acting wisely or unwisely. But the question for them to decide, is not whether they shall be mechanics, farmers, lawyers, doctors, or preachers, but whether they shall be men-intelligent, patriotic, self-denying, steadfast men-of unwavering principles. . They may be endowed with all the necessary natural qualifications, but, unless their minds are drawn out and thorough4y trained, they can never influence progressive people or rule successfully in high places. We live in an age of most remarkable activity, an age largely characterized by political corruption, infidelity, and materialism, and the hopes of our future pro~perity must rest upon those who are to administer our laws and govern us as a nation. The political condition of our country calls for men whose courage cannot be diminished by the appearance of overwhelming numbers and whose votes cannot be purchased with gold. From the humblest office in the country to the presidential chair ·in the capital of our Union, we want men upon ·

Young Men, Why They are not Educated.

whom we can rely for our national safety, and whose•moral characters are counterbalanced by thorough mental qualifications. But where shall we find them? ·Not exclusively among those who have been reared in affluence, and whose education has received ·the most careful attention from their childhood. Jt is true, ,many have com~, and many may yet come from such a source, whose names, as heroes, statesmen, and patriots, will live on long after their bodies shall have mouldered into dust. · Washington and Lee, Jefferson and Madison, may be accounted worthy examples of such; but the source is not sufficiently large to supply the dem.and. Clay, Jackson, John .son, and Garfield deserve our notice as those who struggled against .· obstructions .and forced their way upward by their own strength. Many of our leading men must come from among those who can adapt themselves to unfavorable circ'umstanc~~ and sympathize with suffering humanity, if we are to become a happy, united, and fraternal people. Some of this class may desire to be useful, and feel that they have. decided to prepare for the work that lies before them; but, between them and their fields of labor, there is .a rough and thorny road which they must travel. The course of preparation is long and tedious, their expenses are great and their means •are limited . No wonder if they are discouraged ! · No wonder if they are almost ready to turn back without any hope of success ! . The accomplishment of nearly all important enterprises requires money. Without it, railroads cannot be built; without it, farming, · mining, manufa cturing, and commerce cannot be continued; _:. without money, the gospel cannot .be car ried to t,he heathen ancl the world christianized; without money, colleges and universities cannot be sustained; without money, men cannot be educated ; and we are not surprised at the slow progres s of any nat ion, when w~ see its financial resources so inadequate to the literary dernands of its population. . A nation's financial depres sion is not more attributabl~ to the improper administration of its laws than to the persistent idleness of its own private citizens . The fact that young men inherit no educational advantages from their parents is no excuse for their · life-long illiteracy. Alth ough they are penniless when they arrive at manhood, yet , if they are blessed with physical strength, nine-tenths of th.em may receive at least a,practical, if not a classit;;.l, education. But alas! how many there are who are more anxious about the softening of their hands than they are about the hardening of their brains! How many of our muscular young men are s-urrounded'.with

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Richmond College Messenger.

golden opportuni,ties for t he acquirement of means by which they ;may edu~ate themselve s, but who are utterly deficient in energy to improve these opportunities, and are satisfied to loiter around places of indolence and , vice, complaining of "hard times," sending up a bit_ter wail, "0 my misfortunes" ! when it should be, 0 my laziness! · But the want of energy among this class is no greater than it is among some who bear the name of students; for there ·are many such who woµld be willing ,-it ~eems, to' spend the whole day in the initiation of "rats" or playing ball, and )la]f the night in pu11ing toes, disturbing the peaceful slumher of the weary student, and then appear happier under a consequent failure on their examinations than a man . who has won the degre~ of Master of Arts. To bear off the highest honors of this institution, as has been evinced by those of her sons whose success in life has reflected honor upon her history, requir es that one must work from the time he enters until he leaves. "A brother of the distinguished Edmund Burke, after listening to one of his eloquent speeches in Parliament, was found in a very thoughtful mood, and on 1being asked what he was thinking about, replied, 'I was wondering how Ned had contrived to monopolize all the talents of the family; but then I remembered that when we were all at pl; y, he was always at work studying." ' There '\Vasthe secret of Ned's success, and there his brother's ,wondering ceased. But a want of time,. it seems, is a great obstacle in the way of , many uneducated yo'\lng men. Not unfrequently do we .hear them speak in favorable terms of edu cation, and express strong desire to take a collegiate cours~ for its ,acquirements; but they excuse them. selves on the ground th at it will tak e so much of their time that t)ley will have to abandon •the idea and be content to remain uneducated. Yet if there is more true happin<-' SS, more 1real ,pleasure , in education than in ignorance, and if by it men are better qualified for usefulness, every uneducated man at the age of twenty-one should set aside the following ten years of his life, th at he may , by honest toil and diligent study, prepare himself for any duty that may devolve upon him, either religious or political. This would appear very disheartening, but it is not how long we live, but how well.

Young gentlemen, your presence here as students is an evidence that you are not satisfied with your present amount of learning; that you have decided to improve your opportunities and be useful to your fellow men; tha t you have the means to defray your expenses while here ; that you have the energy to go forward in your undertaking;

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People I Have Met. '

that you have appropriated a certain amount of your time for the accomplishment of a noble purpose; but, in adqition to all these, you must have manliness, if you would be succes.sful. Here, as well as elsewhere, you will be the subjects of temptations, which only the truly faithful can resist, and ·obstacles may rise up in your pathway which only the most resolute can surmount. Many condemn what you have undertake~. They say, that education is only the means of developing the natural worthlessness of men ; an,d sometimes they speak the truth . .But this should not slacken your energy or diminish your courage. The fact that a few ships are lost at sea, is no reason why all others should lie idle in the harbor. From some of you the flowery fi~lds of literature may be far off in the distance, and the hill of science may seem steep and rugged; but let me say, press onward and upward, and however great your success may be, always remember to give due honor to Him whose •'eyes are everywhere beholding the evil and the good."

PEOPLE I HAVE MET. [Dr. Talmage, in Sunday Magazine.] WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT-WASHINGTON

IRVING-PETER

COOPER-

DANIEL WEBSTER.

In my house on Oxford street, Brooklyn, we had a memorable g!thering in October, 1876. Many fine ladie.s and gentlemen were present; ·but the most cqnspicuous-,-n ,ot hecause of any pretence on hi~ part, but by sheer force of elevated chilracter-,.was William Cullen Bryant. He did .qot mqch like to be. helped out of the carriage when he canw, nor to be helped ipto if agai11when he departed. He was the imperso~ation of simplicity. He no doubt knew that he was admired of all, but he gave no demonstration of that fact. I The evening had nearly passed when the mayor of the city made an address of appreciation both of Martin Farquhar Tupper, the English poet, t~en present, a~d of our venerable American poet. Bryant and Tupper, before the other , guests ca,me, had _been seated on the sofa, quoting poetry ap\f reviving reminiscences. After the mayor, addres~e~ by Messrs. Bryant Tupper, and Peter Cooper, and the Rev.

Richmond Coltege Messenger.

Drs. I. S. Prime, Dowling , and others . But I had alway been · desirous of h~aring Mr . Bryant read one of his own poerris. I had ' attended the •Bryant meeting a year or two before in Chickering Hall, New York city-a meeting at which the music was good and the speaking good, but ·there was a great lack in it of William Cullen Bryant \ himself. His speech of response was only about three minutes, while he spent all the re~t of the evening in doing nothing except keeping silence and fooking venerable. I thought, 'Why does not somebody think of asking the glorio~s old man to come forward and read his "Forest Hymn," or lines to a "Water-fowi," or the "Death of the Flowers" ? But no such thing happened. On the evening at my house ·1 resolved that no such omission should be repeated. J sprm1g my st~atagem on him in the ;most unexpected moment. Mr. Tupper, at our r~quest, had read a selection from his own poems, and read them well. Turning to our American poet, I said: "Mr. Bryant, I have always wanted to hear you _read 'Thanatopsis,' and I h~ve no doubt it would be a great . joy to all our ' guests to hear you read it. I have it here in Griswold's compilation . Will you grant us tlie_g:reat favor of reading it " ? Bryant blushed like a b~shful miss when asked to play on a piano. There ev.idently was a struggle between his modesty and his desire to be obliging. After a mome:Qt's pause he said : " I would rather read anythin g th an my own writings ; but if it will be of any pleasure to you I will do as you say;" Taking the book, he ad:vanced to the middle of the room ; looked up at the chandelier and then looked ·~t the book. "Take my spectacles," said Mr. Tupper . "No, no," said The type of the book was Mr. Bryant , "l do not need spectacles." rather small, ,but he made no hesitation. There 11.estood, at eightrtwo years of age, about to read without , spectacles a poem he had publ ished in the North American Review in 1816, when he was, eighteen years of age! He turned round and said: "You . will under stand that I do not, recite this from ·memory, for I am not familiar with it. I only 'read it.'' ,With calm, slow accent he read on . . It was a scene never to be forgotten . It was Eighteen Hundred and . Sixteen reading to Eighteen Hundred ,and Seventy-six. He did not , hold th e book away off as octogenarians are wont to do when they read without glasses, but just as a man of thirty would hold a book. His long white beard snowed upon the page. As ·he came to the last nine lines. his voice became feeble, not with physical weakness, but with suppressed emo tion . I had read it, and reread it, as everybody else has, until I thougM there was no more to get out of the closing• lines

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People I Have Met.

of "Thanatopsis" ; but he ga".e it a new translation that autumnal · night. Could it be that I had ever .heard it before? The white, overhanging eyebrows~ the deep -sunken eyes, the great dome of a forehead above a thin body, the realiption that it must be the closing hours of a long and beautiful life, and the sound of the strong autumnal winds that swept round the house while he was reading, were a commentary upon the immortal passage, until I write them here under half delusion that no one has ever seen or heard them before : " So live that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death , · Thou go not, like the quarry -slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sq;,tained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave .Like one that draws the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."

We never saw him again. We said '' Gooq night '' till under other skies we shall say "Goo _d morning.' .'· l could not that night help thinking of the first time I saw-Mr. Bryant. It was in the days ofmy boyhood, at Tripler Hall, at the meeting • ih commemoration of Fennimore Cooper, who had just died. Washington Irving ,came ·forward to call the meeting to order. He was embarrassed as I never before or since saw a speaker embarrassed. He had his hat in one hand and .his gloves in the other. · His chief perplexity seemed to be how to change hi's hat and gloves to the other hand. He hemmed and hawed and stuttered, and blushed and bowed and half broke down while presenting Daniel Webster as the chairman of }he · meeting. Daniel Webster in a speech introduced William Cullen Bryant • as the orator of the evening. For more than an hour Mr. Bryant disr.oursed of his friend, the author of "Wing-and-Wing," " Red \ Rover," and the "Two Admirals." What a night in Tripler Hall that was l Was there ever such a group upon one platform! Washington lrvirig caning to the chair Daniel Webster to introduce William , Cullen · Bryant! . But which _most affected me, I cannot easily tell-Bryant, in 1851, applauded .of the mu\titudes in Tripler Hall, or Bryant in my parlors in 1876. The one was " Noontide " ! The other wa~ "Sunset" I

Richmond College Messenger. DIFFIDENCE

OF GREAT MEN.

It may comfort some of our students, trouble<;! wi·th an excess of modest y, to know that great rven have been ·diffident in comp.any, an<l have broken down in attempting to sp7ak. _ . The eloquent Robert Hall made an utter failure the first time he attempted to speak. The great Pitt was exceedingly shy in his private intercourse with men . Lord Camden was on terms of the greatest intimacy with him, and one day remarked, as Pitt was at his house: "My childr en have heard so much about you that they are very anxious to have a glimpse of t he great man. They are now at dinner . Will you oblige me by going in with mf'. a moment "? said th e ora•or in grea,t alarm. "What on " 0, pray don't"? earth would I say to them " ? "Give them the pleasure of seeing you, at least," said his lordship, laughing, as he half led, half pushed him into ' the room. The Prime Minister of England approached the little group. There he stood, looking alternately at the father and the children, and twirling his hat for a few minutes, without being able to utter a sentence. When Daniel Webster was a school-boy, he' t~lls us: "Many a piece did I commit to memory and rehearse it over and over again in my room, but when the day _came, J' hen the school _collected, when my name was called, and I saw all eyes turned upon my seat, I could not raise myself from it.'' Cowper's friends purchased him a place as Clerk of the House of Lords, where his duties only required him to stand up and read parliamentary documents. The thought of standing up before such an · audience was so terrible to him that as the time drew on, he was in agony of apprehension, and tried to hang himself .

LOCALS. "Centennial " ! • "Fair" ! " Parade " ! " See the foreigners " ? Vaccination has become the Jexation of. the times . ' "I am glad you mentioned it . " "Don't touch my vaccination '! ! !

Locals.

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A fat old gentleman was bitten in the calf of his by a dog. He at once rushed to the office of the justice of the peace, and preferred a complaint against a joker in the neighborhooq, whom he supposed to be the owner of the offending cur. The following was the defence offered on trial by the wag: I. By testimony in favor of the general good character of my dog, I slfall prove that nothing ·could make him so forgetful of his canine dignity as to bite a ca{/. II. He is blind, and can't see to bite. III. Even if he coulrl ·see to bite, it would be utterly impossible for him to go (?Utof his way to do so, on account of his severe lameness. IV. G'r:anting his eyes and legs to b,e good, he has no teeth. V. My dog died six weeks 1ago. , VI. I never had a dog. -From an old secular paper. I,

When his thoughts on the pinions of fancy shall roam, And in slumber revisit his love and his home, When the eyes of affection with tenderness gleam, Ohl who would awake (him) from so pleasant a dream''?

My toe, Oh! my t-o-e ! ! ! ! Cutting string, cruel fellows, to thus distur,b the blissful repose of an innocent rat. [For tlie Messenger.] PROVERBS OF SOLOMON.

Having put forth my wise proverb long ago, that we must not answer a fool according to his folly, I do not mean to reply to that pigeon-toed editor of the Messenger who undertook to be witty at my expense. But I beg leave to present a few of my proverbs, by a study of which that flighty and conceited coxcomb would learn Sbtne wisdom: t. He 'that hideth the greenness of a stranger is wise, but a fool maketh sport of him that is a rat. 2. A wise man speaketh gently of his neighbor, but he that heapeth contempt on_his brother is cruel-hearted . 3. He that hath much knowledge t1seth plain words, but he that knoweth nothing prateth aloud about Socrates and Plato. 4. He that showeth mercy to a rat will come to honor, but he that poketh fon at the frienaless will come to nothiHg. · 5. He that sayeth that Solomon. put forth opinions contrary to scien<Zeis aQother.

26.

Richmond College Messenger .

6. He that writeth scornful things of Solomon should go in his hole when the fool-killer cometh along. The rest of these proverbs I hold back until I hear again from the swollen frog. SOLOMON. "What a happy family," remarked a gentleman as he _gazed upon fhree buxom girls, who were busy about their domestic affairs. The youngest of the trio , weighing about two hundred, "heaving a sigh," said, ", Not so happy as you ima'gine, sir. There is' need of one more He felt a little (a fellow) in the family to make an even number." mashed. . All friends of Ri chmond College will be gratified to hear_that the boar<l of trustees of the college have decided to make every effort for the rapid completion of the Jeter Memorial Hall.

Honorable gentlemen of the Board, please bear in mind the gymnasmm. · Surely there can be no more ,essential thing than this to our college. Health is worth more than education. ScENE.-A student at '.State Fair, in front of main building, is quite unexpectedly encountered by an old country friend, who is under the TTJysticmfluence of Bacchus: Student-" Why, Mr. H., what are you doing in this part of the world''? Country Friend-" Doing here! Why, I'm just from Yorktown, and thought that"-Student (interrupting)-" I have heard that the Centennial celebra tion ~ as a miserable failure." · , . · C. F . (thoroughly indignant)-" Miserable failure, the mischief! Whoever told _ you that had no taste for glory. Why, man, the soldiers was thar as' thick as bees. Flags was waving every whar. Them people from over yonder in speckled uniform. Saw General Hancock and the President. Heard a hundred bands playing at the same time . And-and-Lor' bless me"! The old gentleman broke down, and keeled over on the ground in a Centennial ecstacy. A new student not loug since determined to take a ride . He had only five cents to invest in this luxury , and as the street car afforded an investment in this 'line, he determi ned •to try it . He got on the car and rode to the terminus of the track. He .re the car was turned around and started back, when _ the conductor observed this yoµng man sitting serenely happy, anrl,to•all appearances (and in reality, too,)

Locals ..

having no idea of leaving the car. The conductor asked for additional fare. The young man replied that he had paid once, therefore was entitled to ride as long as he desired. After a short colloquy, in which the young man's logic quailed before the muscular conductor, this 'new student very unceremoniously departed. He could take no other ca:r, as his money was out; so he was left " Scott free" in the regions •. that lyeth around the Chimborazo, and after wanderings such as Ulyses of old only experienced, this young man reached this place again, and immediately came into our sanctum, where, with his hand raised, • swore solemnly that he would ,leave the campus no more. Su~h a conclusion is worthy of the wisdom ·of Aristotle . One of our young students said to his brother, "You ought to have heard 0 ne of our fellows sing a solo by himself the other day." ." Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." · All of us will be glad to see that there is another poet this session , who is rapidly gaining the ground which the d~bbed poet laureate held last session . Listen to his mystic quill: TRIALS OF A COLLEGE LIFE . The night is dark, I must retire, The clock is striking ·one ; Though working hard, I would inquire , What little have I done?

I lay me down in dreamy lands, My mind would sweetly rest, But soon there comes in silent hands , An awful, dreaded .pest. "Arouse, ye dreamy, sleeping one," Comes sounding from the floor, As onward, with their jolly fun, They drag me through the door. Lookout I hold on, 0 stop,I say ! . My toe! my toe! my toe! I don't . think now there's fun this way, I say, as they let go. And trembling with .my sudden fear, I go once more to bed, · Declaring if they dare appear Again, I'll shoot them dead. But sleep I cannot risk again, My eyes refuse to close, And thus I lay in secret pain , Until the sun arose. The weary night has left its trace Upon the tired brain, . M,v thoughts are dull and sa~ my face, When breakfast comes agam,

) Richmond College Messenger .

But trials still for me await, My beef is tough and old, The salt though pure is greased firstrate, And was for butter sold. And while I eat as best I can, My thoughts afar off roam, And seems to say the better plan Would be ~o go back home.

â€˘

My love would say, "Come back and rest, Fret not your life away." The hea rt that beats within that breast , Is dearer every day. Again, I look to see the light, That drives away the gloom, But one gets up and says: "'Tis right' That rats should meet their doom." So students all, remember please, Assemble after noon; For we expect to do with these, As rats we have to prune.

What's that, methinks, what does he mean? I'll vow I am a man, I'll strike these vagabonds between '!'heir peepers, if I can. Now he's a foollif he suppose& I'll do as he commands, I'll dislocate a few long noses, With these, my bony hands. I wish I were at home, with those I love, and who lovii me, . For these may kill me; no one knows In one week what I'll be. But soon I stand on head nor feet, Let loose ! let loose ! I cry ; In vain, in vain l would repeat ; 'Twas useless though to try. For soon I was the honored one Who sat upon the bars, And there I got that bitter fun Ten thousand thousand jars. But now 'tis o'er, I am content To live a student's life, Though trials all our lives are spent, In pain, and feat, and strife.

-Nomel .

Personals.

PERSONALS. Jos. F. Gordon, '80-' 81, is in business in Lynchburg. Julian M. Cabell, '80-'81, is engineering, also R. L. Traylor. Success to both of ,you, boys. E. R. Barksdale, '80-'81, is in business at Big Lick. Go it little Eddie, we will bet on you. Lewis Puryear is making a fortune ·rapidly. ' We always thought th:it you had true grit in your gizzard. W. F. Bagby, alias ,Joe, has formed a partnership with his father, and is now an out~and-out mercantile man. B. A. Pendleton, owing to his protracted illness, has decided not to return to college. We are sorry to hear this, and are not alone in our sorrow. <:;onwayM . Knox , '80-' 81, is in business in Richmond . The boys need thy wit, and · long for thee to call down the muses at the approaching examin ations . There is some talk of E. F. Settle returning to college to finish up his degree of A. M. Come by all means, J eff. All of us miss ynu, and the old place does not favor itself without you. A. J. Reamy is with us again. He went to the seminary, but his health was so bad as to necessit ate his leaving. This is a healthy place, any way, Reamy, and the company can 't be beaten. We are glad our friend from tide-water, W. J. H. Bohannan, has _returned. His health was such, at the beginning of the session, as to cause a temporary suspension of his college course . James D. Wright, '80-'81, has left us. He says his health was the · cause; . but we shall not say how much of this we believe, for Cupid whispered to us the other night, in clear not e;, Matrimony. We are in duty bound to believe our oracles . t the health of Mr. Many of our students will be pained to hear th<1, T. W. Haynes, one of our old b oys, is quite feeble. He is at the University, notwithstanding his ill-h ealth. J. T. Dickinson has been forced to leave college on account of illbealth. , -The departure of this gentleman is much regretted. He was _applying for his degree of A. B. this session. He has our best wishes for his speedy recoyery and suc;cess in life. Willie D. Groton, '74-'75, is at Susanville, California, a regular "two -horse doctor," doing a fine practi c e and driving the best span of.horses in the county. Pity that he hasn't a Susan to ride around with him, or to keep home comfortable against his return. Dispel . the causes for our pit.)',Doctor.

Richmond

College Messenger.

EXCHANGES .

•

Unquestionably, it's a magnificent thing to be an exchange editor: a post of honor we ,would nc;itswap for the world or the , glittering toys thereof. So nice to 'recline under a pile of papers, whose length, breadth, height, depth, no man can estimate ! So nice to lie there, breathing printers' ink, and feeding on thought ! And, then, how charming to think of the duels we'll be challenged to fight, <;>fhow we'll annihilate our ant,agonist, and save ourself for our country and post1::rity. In fact, .we will have to wait until th,is noontide of glory (which the thoughts of the ·honor of our position caused) has passed away before we can settle down to steady work. We have on our table the Polytechnic. It is well named, for, beyond doubt, it comprehends many arts. It seems to understand as well how to stalk into the sublime as to crawl into the ridiculous. To do the f~rmer, it dashes ?,_ff a lofty editorial on "Ambition"; to accomplish the latter, it heads one or two of its columns with ludi • crous engravings. One of the pictures represents a shadowy vision of a man a_b~utstepping into a mud-puddle. It'~ an illustrated rebus, we reckon, but the solution is easy enough: The man is the editor, and the mud -puddle the matrimonial sea, and-well; good by, old fellow! Someh9.w or other, we always did have . a literary appetite for exchanges edit€d by fair hands. ' True, the pens·, while writing some of the articles ; m~y now and then be dipped iQto the perfume of flowers or fount of fancy ; yet, after all, when the girls write, something nice is almost sure tQ come.· Under this head we jot down _the ' Alma Mater, published by the litera1 y societies of the Wesleyan Female Institute, Staunton, Va. We take off our glove and extend it a hand of welcome to our list of exchanges. We do wish, however, that the fajr editress hadn't have asked that awful question-,-a question the very thoughls of which must have caused a nervous tremor-viz., "At what age do boys become vzen" 1 We are not going to answet it .at all, but we do think . that the catastrophe happens somewhere abotit the time when soap and water wont wash off a certain black streak from the ' face! The Alma Mater also has an excellent cure for love sickness, which is, of ,course, published for the benefit of the fai! in.mates of the W esley_an. The R andolph Macon Monthly appears this session in magazine form, aQd looks quite neat and comfortable in its n.ew dre~s. Wrapped up in this overcoat-covering, it will qoubtless keep ali\'e and warm-hearted, even though cold winds of criticism howl all around :

Exchanges.

It is well protected · from the weather, and yet the October number contains plenty of healthy air, judging from the draft of "Airy Nothings " which is first to fan us. The author of th~ article thinks "all men are born poets to a certain degree.'.' That's exactly true of our exchange editor. His poetic fancy,-his heart beats with pride to • say,-is already to the distinguished degree of zero. The October number of the College Mirror (Greenville, S. C.,) is among our exchanges. In points of style and matter this paper conpares favorably with most of our exchanges. If we remember correctly, the Mirror, prior to . this number, has been edited by one of the teachers, but we notice that it now has a corps of editresses selected from among the students. ' This change has some advantages, as it will secure a more general and deeper interest among the students than they would otherwise feel in the paper. A majority of the Mirror's articles are unexceptionable ; but one of its ' clippings leads one to think that the . fair editresses, not unlike;: most persons who consult mirrors, are slightly fond of flattery . The Religious Herald takes the privilege of saying that, "as a general thing, the girls of South Carolina are brighter and more aspiring than their brothers," and the Mirror reflects this , sentiment from its smooth surface by way of endorseh}ent. Yes, but the blue-eyed, bonnie lasses of the "Mountain City" will say that deserved praise is not flattery. Well, say yourselves we are no hands to argue. The Institute Index prints 'an excell,ent article on "Stability of Character." It brings out this point well: if we knock at all the doors of life, very likely we will enter at none. The write·r thus concludes: "All the grand deeds ,of life are accomplished by steady effort; and the ability to make this effort is what we call stability of charac- ' . ter. To the young man entering upon life we would say, 'Cultivate this trai't. Witi10ut it, genius and your learning, your friends and your wealth, will avail you naught. Your life will be one contiµued failure, without pleasure of living, pride of recollection, · or hope o'f redemption. Fame will pass you by, and oblivion engulph you in her fathomless abyss. With it, the surety of a well-spent life, the possibility of immortal fame, awaits you.'" COLEMAN WORTHAM.

EDWIN WORTHAM.

0. & E. ~O:BT::S::..A.M., GENERAL COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 18 South Thirteenth Street, RICHMOND, Virginia. Personal attention given to the sale of Grain, Tobacco, Flour, Provisions, &;c.

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ADVERTISEMENTS.

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AND DEALER

IN ALL KINDS AND GRADES OF

BOOTS / AND SHOES. The most complete Stock in the city, and at prices that will defy competition. Louk and be convinced. Special in,ducements to Students.

Family Groceries, Fresh Meats, Cured Meats, Vegetables, Fresh and Canned Fruits, Fish, Fowls, &c. Groceries, Meats, &c., delivere<l in any pan of the city, at the Lowest Market Pri·ces

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