Diary of Charles Etchison Lavender, MD, Jan 15, 1833 - Sept. 24, 1833, Lowndes, Alabama http://files.usgwarchives.net/al/lowndes/bios/celavender3.txt ================================================================================ USGENWEB NOTICE: All documents placed in the USGenWeb Archives remain the property of the contributors, who retain publication rights in accordance with US Copyright Laws and Regulations. In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, these documents may be used by anyone for their personal research. They may be used by non-commercial entities so long as all notices and submitter information is included. These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit. Any other use, including copying files to other sites, requires permission from the contributors PRIOR to uploading to the other sites. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives to store the file permanently for free access. This file was contributed and copyrighted by: Michael V. Sims ================================================================================ April 2002 Diary of Charles Etchison Lavender, M.D. 1832-1834 page transcribed by Michael Vaughn Sims from photocopy April 20, 2002 Church Hill [January 1833] January 15th 1833 Well, my Diary, again do I return to your long neglected pages, left blank by neglect and attention to business. It had long been my determination to change my place of residence. The manners, habits, customs, and characters of my neighborhood, were by no means congenial with my own. It had been my intention to travel to the south in search of a place where I should be willing permanently to establish myself. Happening however to attend the central races at Benton about the first week of this month, and hearing that Dr. McClure of Churchill wished to sell out and quit the business of medicine, and knowing it to be an excellent neighborhood, these considerations, with some encouragement from my friends, induced me forthwith to call on the Doctor. We soon struck upon a trade by which I promiced [sic] to pay him $25. for his med. furniture. It has always been my plan never to undertake an enterprise, without going through with it with as much dipatch as possible. Accordingly I settled up my business on Cedar Creek as far as circumstances would allow, and have just landed at this place Church Hill; a neat little village near 5 miles south of the Ala. River, containing three stores and three or four families, situated in the midst of a good neighborhood. It has not been the prospect of pecuniary emoliment that had induce me to prefer this to my former stand, so much as the facilities for advancement in literary pursuits, and the advantages of more agreeable society. In all this miserably disappointed. The place itself was commonly called 'Trick'em,' a name it merited. Again have I left my paternal roof, its amusements and its pleasures, the joys of a paternal fireside, in a word the enjoyments of Home, sweet Home. Well, such things must needs be. All friends and all relatives can not always remain together. And time, 'Etas quaerfort[?] omnia,' often brings about a train of circumstances, that renders it imperatively necessary that members of the same house should be separated. Often probably for their mutual benefit, frequently for individual advancement. And I do consider that it should be more gratifying to parents relatives and friends to know that those for whom they have a peculiar regard, are doing well, becoming useful and respectable members in a distant settlement or country, than to see them daily, and to enjoy their constant society, and at the same time to see them dissatisfied; and to see insuperable barriers to their usefulness and prosperity rising up before them. Such are some of the thoughts that have reduced me to the determination, with feelings of unfeigned reluctance, to leave for a time at least, my peaceful, paternal abode. My profession makes it necessary that I should mingle in society; that I should secure the esteem and good will of the People. That I should in some degree participate in their pursuits, their feelings, their notions, and unfortunately conform to their prejudices and their capricious whims in order to secure their patronage. To do this in a community composed of a heterageneous [sic] mass of people from various countries, of various notions customs and habits, where unfortunately ignorance and prejudice, and all the attendant train of selfish propensities predominate, is a task for which I am wholly unprepared. To say nothing of impossibilities, it militates in my humble opinion against the fundamental principles of propriety. To see a mighty evil prevailing in society, and not oppose it because it would ruffle the feelings of some people; to witness a habit in society, manifestly prejudicial to good order, nay even to morality itself, and not to raise my voice against it because it is popular; to see the encouragement of propensities the most selfish and sordid, at the expense of all the higher faculties of our nature, and not to turn my back upon it; nay even to wink at such degradation to humanity; to see a good in the community and not to encourage it because unfortunately it is unpopular; are things to which I can never think of giving my assent. In pretty much such a community, I am sorry to reflect has my lot been cast. Here every thing selfish finds ample encouragement, where moral sentiment sickens, and every noble faculty languishes and dies. Where envy, pride and avarice reign predominant over the [aims?] of mental excellence, and where liberal understanding and useful knowledge find no abiding place. Such a state of things if I cannot improve, I am not obliged to endure. Yet free untrameled and unfettered, I have left that community as I humbly hope for a better. May the spirit of reform yet brood over that mentally barren soil. May the gentle doves of science and knowledge yet descend. May intellectual seed be sewed by some favored hand, may they take deep root, and flourish and bear much fruit, yea even an hundredfold. Contrary to their remonstrances and much well ment [sic] advice, have I left behind me some good hearted and generous friends, not without much regret. Not so far however but I can see them and visit my paternal home occasionally, [a] thing that would have been more unfrequent [sic] had I pursued my first inclination, to N. Orleans or some other distant place. A new scene has now opened before me. New prospects, a different community, a people different in manners. Alike strangers to me and I to them. Upon my own industry, acquirements, and exertions depends my future success. On my part, as far as [ability?] admit, I am resolved nothing shall be wanting. January 25th 1833 Sylvan Grove "Evil communications corrupt good manners." Nothing more true. "Tell me thy companions and I'll tell thee thy character," is so familiar to the observation of every one, that it has gone into a proverb. It is truly remarkable to see what influence the habits and examples of the passing have in modifying the character of the rising generations. We might almost conclude that man is a mere imitative being; a mere creature of habit. And while we admire with a feeling of pleasure, the beneficial influence of good society upon the habits and morals of the youth of our country, with heartfelt regret and sickening emotion we see and deplore the baneful effects of their associating with the vile. For well, alas, by sad experience do I know the truth of these remarks. With sorrow, alas, have I witnessed their sad reality. In that yawning gulph [sic], in that consuming vortex have I reason to deplore, and fear the loss of a beloved Brother!! Yes, a promising youth of nineteen, whose mental endowments were, and whose acquired ability might have been competent to elevate him, not only above the grov[e]ling pursuits of the base and sordid, but to distinction, usefulness, and honor, has fallen a victim I fear forever to early association with bad company. By the indulgence of the kindest of parents, he was sent to school in an adjoining neighborhood, where at his green age, a mere boy he was taken in tow and led astray by the divices [sic] of an old drunken hypocrite, who had for some time been trying to wear a sheep skin. By cunning divices [sic] the school boy, was led to form a boyish attachment for a painted bauble, and finally before the b[e]ard of manhood began to grow, he, unfortunate! is led to look upon the advices of his best friends, and of his parents as idle tales! And to treat not only with the untmost neglect, but even scorn, their remonstrances against his strange conduct. Led on from one degree to another, from one step of rashness to another by his own deceivers; treating alike with contempt the counsels of his friends, the entreaties of his relations; the remonstrances, the tears, the prayers and promises of his parents, he has at last sealed the climax of his blind and unguarded rashness, by an alliance with the instument of his delusion. The she that has and awfully will remain the cause of his undoing, and the eternal barrier to respectability and happiness! But hush, indulge not in such epithets and forebodings. Indulge [aid I say?]? Ah heavens, this [is] a heart sickening heart rending thought! Ah my brother, my tears have flowed in bitter streams for you. My p[r]omices [sic] of kind service you have contemned, and spurned all my entreaties. Could death have inflicted such pangs on my feelings? No death with all his hor[r]id train could not have stung me thus deeply, and inflicted so lasting a wound on the tender sensibilities of my nature. But hope altho' faint yet revi--- s[?]. May kind Heaven yet smile, propiciously. Shine, those illuminating angel[s]. January 26th 1833 What a vast difference circumstances will make in our ideas and estimates of matters and things, and equally of persons and of human character. Time once was when I saw human nature in its most imposing most alluring form. When every noble sentiment and every endearing faculy of our nature shone in full development, to which the humble sentiments ministered with becoming respect and obedience. Twas then I formed my most exalted estimate of our nature. Twas then I looked on man as the noblest monument of creative wisdom and power, created and formed just as he should be. I contended that all his sentiments propensities and faculties were admirably adapted to his present condition; conducive to his own greatness and happiness, and to the glory of his beneficent creator; that all his corporeal and mental endowments were in their nature "very good;" that the abuses of [them] only were sources of wil[l]; and that to prevent that abuse, his intellectual constitution was so admirably constructed of checks and balances the[y] ought seldom if ever to err. But alas, observation proves this picture to be too finely drawn; that the selfish organs of our brain are often in too high developement [sic] for the moral, yea, that the former in comparison rise like mountains, while the latter sink into diminuative mole hills. Such and still more indignant feelings are involuntarily excited by circumstances which have come under my observation within a few days past. One shall suffice for illustration. The theme is unpleasant, the feelings it excites ought not to be cherished. Not many days since I called upon a man whom I had reasons to look upon as a friend, and whose family I had visited professionally near two years ago. And in fact whose lady happened to be the first patient I ever had the honor and responsibility of attending. To whom I humbly thought my sevices were of no small importance; which was amply acknowledged at the time, but had not been mentioned since. On this family I called, in settling up my business on C. Creek, for some small remuneration for my services. To my utter astonishment, I and my services were like forgotten. The man who always had made the warmest pretensions of friendship, whose professions of good services bore no mark of suspicion, save that they were too unfounded. This man had the hardihood in a surly tone to declare that he knew of no professional visits I had ever rendered to his family year before last. I could but pity the old sinner for his duplicity and want of honesty and everything polite and gentlemanly. I could not abuse the poor old man, but left him with sincerest assurances of sorrow for his mental aberation. 'Tis possible I might have passed all this by ex silentio; but for some slighty remarks my pretended friend had the imprudence to put out, calculated to impair my professional character. This rendered it in my mind not improper to invite him into open court, where I hope to be able to jog his decaying memory. January 28th 1833 "Oh, virtue, how amiable thou art!" Beauty renders its possessor charming, accomplishments attracting; intelligence worthy of respect; virtue and modesty, amiable and lovely; and piety almost worthy of adoration. How transcendently charming and lovely then must be that individual, whose existence seems to be composed of the very quintescence of all these charms and graces?! There does exist a kindred feeling in human character, a kind of sympathy that unites in the hands of social affection its mutual possessors; which excites within us, often at first sight, a feeling of esteem, and not unfrequently of a still warmer emotion, which grows and strengthens with our acquaintance. There are circumstances in the characters of individuals, which render their society one of the greatest enjoyments of my life. Such is the pleasure I almost promice [sic] myself from the acquaintance of a fair one with whom it was my greatest satisfaction no longer ago than last evening to become acquainted. Who that has a heart, can contemplate the accomplishments, the many graces, the many charms, many virtues of one in every respect so amiable and lovely, with [line cut off] [February 1833] February 6th 1833 Well, I see at last my patience is destined to undergo a perfect martyrdom. I must acknowledge my deficiency in that most useful of all faculties, the faculy to please; or in other and truer works to deceive. Self has always appeared to me, a very uninteresting topic of conversation, especially in forming an acquaintance. The clarion of self praise is a wind instrument I have never learned to blow. Flattery and deceit are games I have never learned to play. To crouch at the foot of bloated pride and bigotry, is a task to which I never can and never will submit. To court the applause of ignorance and prejudice because they are powerful by unprincipled deceit and flattery, is a humiliation at which every noble feeling revolts. To pretend to friendship and regard for those whose principles and practices I at the same time detest, merely for the purpose of ingratiating myself into popular favor for base and selfish purposes, is a littleness and mean dependence which my very soul abhors. Rather than be guilty of such meanness, thou last sad resort of wretchedness and poverty, be thou my desperate end. But never, never with an offended conscience. With honor have I pursued and completed my education. Honorably and respectably have I offered my services to the people. To serve them, to toil in the cause of humanity, to deserve well of my fellow beings, shall be my unremitted exertions. Not to impose myself upon the people, not to beg their favors, but to deserve their patronage, be my aim. But if at last I fail, if after all my exertions, oppressed by penury with all its train, I humbly hope to be cheered by the reflection of having done my duty, and to receive the silent tho' cheering plaudits of a conscious rectitude. Many and weighty are the obligations I be under to parental kindness and indulgence. Ardently do I wish to reward in some humble degree that kindness. To be [an?/able?] [illegible] to direct and farther [sic] the education and moral improvement of my little brothers and dear little sister, was not amongst the least of the objects I had in view in removing to this place. To the accomplishment of these ends shall my efforts still be directed. To fail therein I have no expectations, sooner or later with the blessings of heaven I will succeed. Feb. 8th 1833 Yes, I believe it my best policy to remove to Benton; where the practice will be probably as good this year, as it will be here; and where it will be constantly improving, and that to at the expense of my present stand. The facilities for the accomplishment of all my purposes will be as great there as here, and in some respects greater. I'll weigh the matter well and conclude diligently. Feb. 11th. "It is not good for man to be alone," is a saying of divine origin and must be true, accordingly we see the principle acted upon even to this day. Yesterday, a most pleasant evening, at the close of which I had the honor of attendance to the Revd. Dr. Peebles at the celebration of his nuptials [sic], of presenting before the parson a little nymph of 16. Feb. 22nd Birth Day of George Washington! Passed the day as usual, but the evening in the ballroom! To me a novel scene. The first ball that I ever attended. Dancing by those who directed my education was wisely considered at least to me an unnecessary accomplishment. Well as I remember a youth, [yet?/yea?] a youth that possessed a soul, whose prospects of doing well in the world were bright before him, many advantages did he enjoy over myself while we were school mates. At Rocky Spring Dancing School, much did I envy him so much superior enjoyment, but my parents were opposed to my visiting the school, and their will was my law, and well enough the thought of nullifying it never entered my head. Well, as might have been expected at his tender age, left to the dictates of his own feelings, he soon began to neglect his studies, and finally abandoned them altogether. Here our acquaintance ceased. Five years after I heard from Israel A. Vandike. He had entered the stream of dissipation and was carried precipita[n]tely along its current. Was a bankrupt! A confirmed gambler!! Not doubting where first were embibed the first principles of dissipation by this once respected youth, as well as others of my acquaintance equally amaible whose destiny was equally to be deplored, it is not surprising that I had fully embibed the prejudices of my honored parents against Dancing. During my residence at University many balls had been given, some in honor of the students and particularly the Graduates, but I always had other business to attend to. Of cour[s]e I was a stranger in the ballroom. And rather an odd one too I must confess. Instead of courting acquaintance I avoided all introductions. Indeed I acted rather a selfish part. The music and the scene inspired me with feeling[s] far different I imagine from those of any person present. I was for the most part lost in a solitary romantic reverie, altho' I had many acquaintances aboard, and altho' I boarded with the family and was at home. Three young ladies belonging to the family. I was so singular as not to speak a single word to a single lady the whole evening. Well my singularity is no body's business. Saw Miss H. whom I had seen once before, and whose presence gave me some uneasy palpitations. But sink their recollections to oblivion. I was always a lover of pretty flowers. 'Tis strange I never cultivated their language more. A stranger would suppose me to be a botanist. But no, I can admire a fine blosom all day and at night not know its name. So with these ballroom flowers, I can gaze and admire and yet not to appoach or hear their name. Today I gaze on a beautiful rose, tomorrow it dies, yet I grieve not. The flower that bewitched me has faded yet my eyes are dry. Today I sweep from my presence the butterfly that dazzled and perhaps delighted me yesterday. No, no a butterfly is no companion for me. If ever I should seek a companion it must be some intellectual, amiable, warm hearted, generous souled creature, that can love my virtues, forgive my faults, not a giddy butterfly. 24. Was called to a sick child at Mrs. H's. Some miles south of Churchill. With Mrs. H. have had some acquaintance and esteem her friendship valuable. Became acquainted Miss Mary H. and also Miss S. C. quite a bonnie lassie from Dallas. After prescribing for the sick boy. Dined at Mr. Halkers [Walker's?] with a party of young sparks. Past [sic] the time upon the whole bearably, but not more agreeably than if secluded in my study. Past [sic] the night at Mrs. H's. Morning of 25th. Left with some little regret, because . . ., because . . ., I hardly know why; but as far as I can guess, I should not have known regret but that I left the girls behind. Well that's a poor apology, at least for me. So here's a health to the lasses, and a dismissal to the subject. 26. Again visited the prairies, not the less pleased with my visits. Because so well pleased with the society I there enjoy. 'Tis friendship founded on just esteem that makes society desirable. After breakfast set out for Benton, with several young ladies and gents. On reaching the swamp about a mile the gig in which Miss C. rode was broken and our progress thus interrupted. I returned with Miss C. and some girls to Pantheron, and soon set out for home. I was delighted with Miss C. She is to my mind the most amiable and intelligent girl I have met in a long time. Indeed she is a sweet little piece, and besides she is beautiful. Indeed, I am almost in love, partly I am persuaded because she so much resembles a sweet lovely little girl that I once knew far, far away, whom I may not shortly see again. But whom I sh[all] not soon forget. But I am serious. Benton [April 1833] 1st Well another move, another roll of the stone, up hill or down however unable to say. Circumstances which it was impossible for me to foresee or control, have led me again to alter my place of residence. This place Benton is a young and flourishing villa on the southern shore of the Ala. River, advantageously situated for business and in the midst of an extensive and respectable neighborhood. Dr. Dunklin having declined residing there, and retired to his farm in the country, there is left a vacancy a situation at this time preferable to Church Hill and on[e] of constant improvement. These are some of the inducements. Prospects are by no means flattering. A dull business! 5th Indisposed at Mrs. H's. Kindness shall not soon forget. Past [sic] the time most agreeably in that most amiable and interesting family. 8. H--d[?] with my old friend Mr. McCracken, whom I am glad to mention as a particular friend. 12. What emotions are these? What kind of feeling sure 'tis strange. "And here I am again o'er head and ears in the [hypos?/hyssos?], a disease you will say peculiar to student. I believe it peculiar to lovers; and with that (unfortunate) class I must now rank myself; tho' I did not know till this evening, that I was so much engaged as I really am. I knew indeed that I was extremely pleased with the amiable girl; that I was interested in her favor; that I was happier in her company than anywhere else, with innumerable other circumstances that would have told me the truth had I examined them. But this as it will I hope and believe I am and ever shall be a rational being; and not suffer my judgement to be misled by the operations of a blind Passion." Boyer in Eliza Wharton. But why this long languishing quotation? "I acknowledge nothing, yet I deny nothing." 'High ho, for the [hy po?].' Shakespeare. A charming extract that, I should say. April 20th Called last evening at my friend Mrs. H's. Is this embarrasment natural? How comes it so? I can face the sternest tribunal and never shrink. I can address a congregated multitude rich and poor, philosophers and fools without a palpitating heart. No circumstances can discompose me; and yet to address the fair original of that endillible [sic] image on my soul is more than I can do without a palpitating heart and faltering tongue. I have addressed individuals and multitudes, upon subjects meditated and unmeditated; I have stood many an examination on literary and scientific subjects before hundreds. I have appeared before the learned senate of the University, the[re] to undergo a severe scrutiny upon which my future prosperity, nay happiness and honor greatly depended, with calmness and composure, and yet, what a paradox in my composition, I can not appear before one individual as harmless as a lamb; as innocent as a cherub and as lovely as a seraph; and there express a few simple ideas in a few simple words, withoug being agitated into an [agave?]; cannot smile without masking a wry face, or laugh without an hor[r]id grin; and all this before an innocent sweet little creature that I love. How strange, how passing strange! Were she but here at this moment, oh, how rapturously could I impart to her my whole soul; its anxieties its its [word repeated] wishes, its hopes its fears, that alternately agitate my breast. E[x]cellent. [May 1833] May. Ah! What a cold, heartless, unfeeling world is this? With what careless indifference do we look upon the woes of others! How selfishly and how sordidly do we court the applause of the great; the Friendship of the prosperous and the gay. But ah, let dire adversity knit his wrinkled brow, and streach [sic] forth his iron hands; and bring the wretched victim down to want and misery, and oh shame, but not the less true; friendship languishes; and every noble feeling towards our once prosperous friend now expires and leaves the unfortunate a stranger in his own land. How often too that a stranger, a weary wo[e]worn stranger helpless and afflicted, borne down with disease and poverty; petitions in vain for assistance; yes at the opulent freeborne son of our happy republick. Yes there have I seen him meet with neglect and cold denial, left to languish and repine unnoticed in the land of plenty, merely because he was unfortunate and destitute of money. Ah to humanity shocking! And is it man that treats his brother so? Yes man who proudly boasts himself the lord of creation, the climacteric of almight[y] architecture? Yes this is man; not as he should be but as he is. As I was passing along in haste to visit an interesting patient, to whom I was attending at Church Hill, my attention was attracted by the presence of a woman apparently about 35 years of age, whose exterior appearance indicated her to be in distress; yet whose air, careworn countenance and calm and placid demeanor shewed she had seen better days. Wishing if possible to alleviate her distress I inquired into its cause. Misfortunes had reduced her to the severest want. By the advice of those who appeared to be her friends, she had emigrated from her native state, by these she was now deserted, her husband afflicted and debilitated [was?] [illy?] able to procure a scanty supply for a large family of children. Sickness had laid to her heavy hand; an infant child had already yielded to its grasp. Not soon shall I forget the emotions excited by the tears that flowed from the mothers eyes as she told o'er sufferings and last agonies of the darling child! Several others now lay low. When I asked if they had medical attention she replied that they were not able to employ a physician. This was enough. I promised to call in the evening. For my attention to that family I was fully compensated by their gratitude and a consciousness of having discharged my duty to suffering humanity. [June 1833] June 6th Oh! for the soft inspiring whispers of the Eolean muse. Oh for a spark of poetic fancy! Altho' a full blaze of poetic fire would be too weak to describe the emotions that swelled this bosom and the scenes that excited them within the last 24 hours. O beauty is the master charm; yes even in a stranger, how much more then where reflected from looks that we love! Yet never shone this master charm with half so much brilliancy and soul enrapturing extacy [sic], as from that lovely form under the hand of affliction. Then, then appears in all its loveliness the angel spirit in woman. But when we gaze on the most lovely of the lovely sex, the fairest of those we love, under the inf[l]icting hand of pain and suffering, oh, then expression fails us, our ideas lie hid for want of words. Not many hours ago I left the couch of the fairest and most interesting being I ever beheld; and she, ah cruel fates, on the bed of languishing. Had I then seen her for the first time, soul stirring emotions would have filled my bosom. What then must have been my feelings when I thus beheld before me the being I admired. Yet my emotions were visible to none. No, not even she could guess my feelings. She has no idea of the force of my attachment. For some hours that appeared so many minutes, I sat by the bedside and fanned away the heated breath of a summer sultry evening. Never, oh never shall I forget the emotions of that hour, as wraped [sic] in admiration I gazed on the scene before me. It was a warm summer evening which rendered the lightest dress most agreeable to her tender frame. Her fine expressive features bereft of their wonted animation, presented more of the lily than the rose, but then that calm serene and placid smile that lingered on that angelic face and clothed in loveliness those deep blue eyes, like the last rays of a summer evening, as they linger on the bright bosom of the clear blue sky and then sink below the horison [sic], thrilled through my very soul. The raven ringlets that parted gracefully on a fair forehead of exquisite mould, the lovely seat of a brilliant intellect, grace fully disheveled, flowed in silken ringlets down her neck more beautiful than polished ivory, and rested quietly on a tender bosom more exquisite than the pearly breast of the snow white swan; like the snow bank cu--d[?] by the frost on Dian's Temple, or like a little bed of sweet white pinks in Eden's first bloom. While partly exposed to the kisses of the heavenly vespers, her delicate and exquisitely formed limbs reclined on the couch before me. Oh never shall I forget that moment. Many years may roll their ample round. Many chequered scenes may I pass through. Distance may part us forever, but the feelings of that hour will still be fresh in my memory. May heaven never be unmindful of this fair being so closely allied to her own daughters. May earth too conspire to render happy a star of perfection by which she is seldom visited. Ye zephyrs gently breath upon The blooming rose of Pantheron. Such were my rhapsodies as I gazed upon this charming one as her eyes seemed to close in sweet and placid slumber. Ye fates deny me not an early interview! June 8th. Gay scenes in town today. Citizens assembled at dinner given at the Hotel, for the purpose of consulting on matters and things. Apppointed a committee of 5 to make arrangements for celebrating the 4th July. Also 6 managers to bring into operation a circulating library in the Town of Benton; in both of which respectable bodies I had the honor to be. 9th 9 o'clock A.M. Gloomy, gloomy! Horrirrifferrous!! A London morning. A sabbath morning early in June. Fondly had I promiced [sic] myself a pleasant ride and the society of those I love, midst all the sweets of prairian beauty. But Lo a more gloomy morning [n]ever had the imprudence to frown on England's metropolis! Dark and rainy. How, ye blues, shall I kill an hour? One hour and I ride rain or shine. My feelings are becoming too hot, may be cooled by a shower of rain. No I can not study, my mind and all its thinking powers gone to the South and I must follow in pursuit. Off I go through mud and rain. 10th Yesterday visited the lovely Miss H. happy to find her health so much improved. So much of angelic sweetness and heavenly purity coul[d] not be deeply afflicted. Oh rapture, but cursed sense of modesty or rather of bashful timidity. What miserable luck. Here may I sit for days and no professional call, and now I've been absent only 24 hours and lost [to?] better attention [for future?] [words cut off] I should long since have observed that I had joined a debating society composed of about 20 young men, in this place before I moved down here. That I had been appointed for the purpose and draughted a constitution and laws under the name of the "Philological Society of Benton." it is our custom to meet once a week and discuss such question[s] as may have been selected the evening before. And on the first Wednesday eve in every month a literary or scientific essay to be read and defended by a member previously appointed. Our debates are sometimes interesting and well attended. Yesterday I received the following address from a committee of the P. Society, before which I had the honor to read a paper on the evening of the 5th instant. Benton, June 10th 1833 Dr. C. E. Lavender. Sir: We the committee appointed to wait upon you with a request that you would furnish the Ph. So. of Bn. with a copy of your address delivered on the last evening of our meeting, take this method of dicharging that pleasant duty, and would most respectfully add our sincere request that you would comply with the wishes of the society by furnishing us with a copy of that address as early as circumstances will permit. Respectfully, G. H. Fry, J. B. Wilkins G[?]. H. O'neall, C. W. Sturgus To which polite request I made the following reply: Benton, June 11, 1833 Gentlemen: I gratefully acknowledge the reception of yours of yesterday. Were I to consult my own feelings, I could not comply with the request of the Society. Want of time and opportunity have prevented my doing justice either to the subject or to myself. A sense of duty however to that body forbid[s] my withholding anything that may interest them. If by acquiescing in their wishes, I shall be able to express to them my sense of their kindness, I shall do so with cheerfulness. Respectfully, C. E. Lavender. Msrs. F. W. O. and S. So a copy is forwarded for publication. I also have the honor of a request to deliver an address on the Fourth of July. Ye Tavern Keepers of Benton! Ye blazing stars of Liberality, ye bright moons of charity, ye Northern lights and polar stars of noble hearted generosity. Ye noble antipodes of everything sordid and miserly! Oh ye who scorn cursed, parsimoniousness, as ye hate a thief! Ye noble patriots who do honor to [every] thing you handle! Who celebrate with merry song and solitary glee your country's anniversary, the nation's Jubilee. Go ye forth, ye honored band, bid the fife strike up the jovial lay. The drum to swell her hollow notes of glorious triumph, the viol to mingle her merry strains of mirth. Bid the merry musketry cheer the little hills, set the valley smiling and the hillock dancing. Bid the deep mouthed cannon's roar reecho the notes of Freedom from mountain to mountain and from the rivers to the ocean. Rise ye luminaries on the bright rainbow of the morning and proclaim, ye prodigies of freedom liberality, to the assemble multitudes. "Come up, come up, ye ragamuffins eat old bacon and collards for a dollar a bait [sic], and drink old Mookasan[?] and water for a bit a drink!!!! Ho ho every one . . ." June 20. Addressed the philological society last evening on the question, "Which was the greater benefactor of mankind, Columbus or Washington." Spoke at length on both characters but most in favor of the last. Gained the point. The question had been discussed before, but in my absence; for my benefit it was by some of my friends called for again. Quite a debate. 20th. Reflections, yes, serious reflections, on these facts. There lives at our boarding house, a damsel long doated [sic] on by one of my cidevant[?] friends to whom I am a confidant. How blind he must be! (Love, the old Tyrant, has already transformed him to worse than an oister [sic],) He adores her, thinks her as chaste as Dianna, as virtuous as an angel, has for some time been engaged to her. Yet abominable dictu[?], she has given way to the insinuations of the evil one, has listened to temptation!!! And yet her fair behavior before him, her peerless virtue, her maiden modesty and all the pliant train of maiden charms and virgin beauties. What an admirable thing a woman is at aping graces, the possession of which would add to her charms. Oh! are all alike deceptive? And are we all alike liable to be deceived? I know her not, she knows not what I know, under a modest garb there lies concealed - - - Can I bear such temptation. The flesh is weak, not it is strong for it is hard to resist. Flee from temptation! Well I'll leave the place. But this the main cause shall remain unknown. No never will I divulge it. But I must leave this place, or I may rue it. Since here I've been, in a meagre tavern have I lived. I now quit it for another. Can't be much worsted. [pages 59 - 61 missing] [July 1833] July 8th. The "fourth of July," with all its merriment, mirth and revelry is now over. Again am I left alone and unmolested to muse in my Diary, which may one day be my dearest companion, perhaps the only confidant of my past life. A kind momento of past events by which to look back through [the] vista of time, on the present passing events, and that retropection may at some future day give me pleasure. A few facts and reflections drawn from the events of the last few days will therefore constitute the subject of the present article. But still all must be tinctured with the spirit of that insuperable melancholy that ever rests upon the fountain of my feelings. The Fourth was ushered in as usual by sounds of mirth and hilarity. The morning was unusually serene and cheerful; the day unspeakably beautiful. Preparations having previously been made for a proper celebration of the day in Benton, at an early hour the citizens began to call in from the country. Owing however to bad management, or rather neglect on the part of the managers, not many ladies nor as many gentlemen were expected, attended. Between 11 and 12, we formed a procession in the upper part of town and marched down with musick to a beautiful arbor of nature's own planting, near a fine flowing spring of nature's limpid cordial, first bluff on the bank of the river covered with a dense foliage, and almost surrounded by the second bluff in rear; while in full view before us rolled the blue waves of the majestick stream. On a small semicircular mound on the side of the hill above, beneath a majestick oak, were prepared seats for the reader, orator and divine. The ladies had already assembled. The musick ceased. A profound silence reigned. Address to a Throne of Grace by the Rev. Dr. Peebles. Musick. Declaration of independence by Hon. G. Burt. Musick. Oration, by myself. The ladies retired to a dinner prepared at Capt. Maulls, and the gentlemen to a table well furnished on the immediate bank of the river, a romantick and beautiful prospect. But what did that signify to a set of hungry natyves? Unfortunately after dinner intemperance the cruel spoiler came. Order was lost in confusion. A drunken frolick. Many a swinish wretch humbled in the dust before the god of debauchery and intemperance. But let it pass, " Let dogs delight to bark and bite, for heaven hath made them so." Let moralists say what they will, A drunkard is a devil still. Thus ended the scene. But there were a few in whom the occasion excited nobler and holier emotions. There were a few that had seen those "days that tried the souls of men;" long may they yet live! In the eyes of those veterans, with deep emotion, did I see the pearly drop twinkle, as I attempted to pourtrey [sic] the scenes of the "spirit stir[r]ing times." What must have been their feelings? ineffible [sic]. Again they retire to their homes, crowned with ten thousand blessings, and the benediction of millions. In the evening those of us who were disposed for amusement left the bustle and confusion of the crowd; and with gleeful hearts retired to the villa of Church Hill, where a party had already assembled, nim[b]ly trip'd the mazy dancer, pleasure filled the cup and joy sparkled in every eye. How different was the scene to that we had just left. [illegible] appeared all the graces smiling in all their charms. On the wings of a hummingbird the minutes flew till near three o'clock, when we left the mazy scenes, and returned to rest after a busy day. The morning of the fifth arose as bright and cheerful as cloudless sky, serene heaven, the bloom of morning, balmy zephyr, glistening dewdrops, luxuriant verdure, Nature's loveliest dress, the carolls [sic] of warblers, and the charms of beauty could render it. The forenooon was past [sic] in most pleasant amusement. Here a note on the swinish disposition of the swinish multitude. Our old land lord the squire of the parish taking into his head to turn over a pica uni, ordered al[?] Ball in Benton, P.M. But I will not dewll on so much meanness, suffice it to say we came off without having our guests personlly insulted, by incur[r]ing the curses of the swinish multitude. Throughout the night we were serendaded by whoops and yells, the firing of old fuses, and the rattling of old tin buckets. Again does it fall to my lot to record with painful emotions, the untimely death of a valued friend. Dr. Allison McCord is no more. I understand he died of Cholera some time since in the city of Lexington Ky. whither he had gone to complete his professional studies. Most unfortunate has been that young man since first I became acquainted with him. Two winters ago, we were collegiates in the same university. Early in the session he was attacked with billious fever. Scarcely had he recovered from this when measles laid hold upon his debilitated frame and [illegible] billious colic and fever of a low grade brought him near the brink of the grave; and now on his second visit to the University, he has fallen victim to the relentless scourge of our race. Never was a more generous noble soul implanted in man than his. Few thoughts alas, of a future existence had ever entered his mind. He was gay to excess. The warmth of his soul often carried him too far. But a few days ago I saw him in all the vigor of health, with joyous prospects before him. Animate were his well marked features as he recounted to me his future plans of honorable and useful employment. Now alas, he is cold in death!! And all his bright prospects slumber in the dust, the flattering hopes of his numerous friends are buried in the silent tomb! July 11. Alas the deceitfulness of man! How painful to the philanthropist to see an individual, while he extends to another the right hand of friendship, concealing within his sleeve the fatal dagger of enmity, and ready on the slightest occasion to use the deadly weapon against the innocent and unconscious victim of his envy and malice. Too often are such beings found amongst us. Yes, they exist I'm sorry to acknowledge it, they exist in our meek and ought to be dignified profession. It is shocking, it is debasing that he who should receive the sympathy of his professional brethren, is rewarded with envy, invective and abuse; that he who merits the just approbation and applause for his emminence in the divine art, receives the dire effusions of all the malignancy of envy's "thrice blasted, thrice infected bane." These things alas, are no strangers amongst the degraded of our profession; such base and selfish mortals are not only unworthy the name of the medical profession, but beneath the dignity of mankind, and ought to be helped from the stage of not only of publick but of social life. Such persons are unworthy to live in an enlightened civilized community. Envious, selfish, peevish, mortal I envy thee none of thy enjoyment. Thou, thou mayst ride in gilt coaches, clothed in silks and jewelry, whilst I trudge barefoot alone and friendless. Yet with a conscience void of offence, I envy thee not. Since my initiation into the medical world it has been my good fortune, to associate with the enlightened and generous of its members, whom I have respected, whom I have loved. But alas how different now. My lot now I fear is cast amongst the swinish selfish rabble, at least I have reason to think so. Two of the faculty now reside in this place. With one I have been acquainted, casually so, ever since my residence here. Nothing but inattention to business and intemperance had I heard prefered against him. But what may we not expect where intemperance reigns. Already without wishing it, have I detected an envious hateful disposition; manifested by insinuations and petty darts from behind the curtain. At our late ball on the evening of 5 inst. several ladies of respectability honored us with their attention, whom I had personally requested to attend, upon the responsibility of several citizens, whose names had been put down as managers without the consent of some and contrary to the express injunctions of others. Of course I was bound under all the laws of honor and propriety to protect and render them as comfortable as possible. The ball room not being well prepared, and no managers in attendance, etc. a number of the baser sort of [illegible] having assembled rendered it doubtful whether we should be able to maintain order. The question arose whether or not we should repair to the room. I observed to a few gentlemen present that we would go down to the room as it was then ready, and that after dancing a few reels, if we found it difficult to keep order, we could retire, and dispose of the ladies etc. Happily however order was preserved. Some pretended friends, the above doctor at the head, taking advantage of the moment and its excitement, and my observation, construed it into abuse and invective against the company in general! I have pronounced it all a base falsehood, raised with the intention of injuring me, and hold myself ready to give amply satisfaction for the assertion. Such base mean and trifling talking I dispise [sic], and shall pass it by in silence. Such pet[t]y abusers, like Johnson's Hebredes, which he said were "worth seeing but not worth going to see," are worth kicking but not worth going to kick. The fact is I did manifest partiality in my attention to the fair guests; for I believed that partiality due. Moreover I had invited some of the guests myself, and not to have bestowed on them particular attention under existing circumstances would have been acting dastardly. On such occasions no human power shall arbitrarily influence my couce [sic] of conduct. I cannot express myself in terms sufficiently damning of such behavior. July 12. Again am I compelled reluctantly to notice at least a want of professional etiquette in another member of the faculty in my little circle, in whom after the strongest expression on his part of good feeling, and a wish for a maintainance of reciprocal friendship, I have observed a narrow contractedness of soul. The very urgency of his good wishes made me watch him more closely. Phrenology told me he must be a man of bad feeling. In him I find a total want of tender social feeling, a disposition to harbor most of the baser emotions of our nature. A man who scruples not unasked to examine into cases under my charge, and to pronounce not only as useless but as absolutely wrong, certain unimportant prescriptions, and to recommend other differing only in name. Where I have prescribed the use of warm water and corn meal in case of irresopilasters[?] infl'm. he has peremptorily pronounced it dangerous and prescribed cold water and starch. Sending word to my patients that he has cured numbers of the complaint[s] under which they laboured etc. etc. Such conduct I pronounce not only unprofessional, but ungentlemanly and [illegible]. These little underhanded turns I [illegible] as I shall also pass in silence. I never will soil myself in a foul stream in order to trace it to its fouler source. A tattling tongue I always did despise. It is, and has been and I hope ever will be my rule through life to do on all occasions what I conscientiously believe to be right. In my professional conduct I shall follow the dictates of my own judgement aided by the experience and observation [line cut off] opinion for any body's opinion; and in my profession will act on those rules which reason and some experience at least prove to be true. And I believe I will not be contradicted in the minds of any one when I say I have never intentionally injured a man! My course with men I am determined shall be strai[gh]t upright and honorable, regardless of what others may say or do; and in the present shall not pretend to notice the passing events, but shall take care not to be taken advantage of. July 15. Yesterday, Sunday, set out with some fine young fellows on a ride six miles into the country to church. The ride was as pleasant as it could be made to a gay company a lovely forenoon, splendid landscapes, splendid rural scenery, pleasant cites, and pleasing anticipations. On reaching church and listening to a 2 sermons not overly commendable from their brevity, I met several of my old acquaintances. To my agreeable surprise I saw my little sister Eliza and her amiable little school mistress. Neither was sister less gratified of our meeting than myself. I had the pleasure of bearing them company in the evening to the Hill where they boarded. Delaying to gather fruits were overtaken by a heavy thunder cloud, which rushed on us with volleys of wind and rain. I being on horseback with but a silk umbrella was soon pretty han[d]somely bedribbled. The barouch in which Miss C. and my sister rode at one time came well nigh oversetting, to prevent which I dismounted in torrents of driven rain into a creek of water. No serious accident however occurred. We reached Woodville formerly Hay's Hill, where miss C. had taken a school some time since, and where I had taken my sister. After refreshments we passed the evening agreeably. This morning it not being much out of my way and I being under some obligations to the family, I determined to pay a passing visit to Mrs. H. and her most amiable family. Blush not, thou fair sheet of paper, to remember 'twas the fair daughter of my amiable friend in whose praise you have been compelled to speak so extravagantly. You know something of your masters disposition to romance. You must indulge him in these whims. Tis the solace of his melancholy. This amiable and accomplished he is compelled "in spite of pride, in erring reason spite" to admire, yet never expects to urge a warmer acknowledgement than that of friendship. I cannot deig[n] that 'twas her smiles in which my fond heart once more longed to bask, that urged me on towards the groves of Pantheron. Her brother however, a promising youth of 21 who had just returned from the military school at West Point, where he had but a short time before graduated, and with whom I once had a partial acquaintance, I was under a promise of a visit last week, but professional engagements prevented. With a fine supply of spirits and gay with anticipation, I set out, but, unlucky stars, endeavoring to take a near rout[e] I lost my way, got into the swamp, thence into the old Hurricane, and finally into a brier thicket. Wet and bedrabbled; my pumps as flat as flounders, my fine silk stockings down round my ancles [sic], my beaver wet and rumpled from many a fall from the capital, my cloth[es] wet and muddy, my face scratched. After seve[r]al hours as I thought of toil and rambling, I reached the road, in a pretty gay pickle. Mortified at the alteration in my personals, I reached the road half determined to take the end for Benton; which resolution was confirmed on meeting my friends Mr. and Mrs. W. of B, who informed me that neither of my young male friends was at home; spoke in high terms of Miss H. my sweet little acquaintance. Half mad at myself I wheeled about for Benton. I stop'd a few hours at my old home Church Hill on my way. Enjoyed a bit of a tete a tete with l[it]tl[e] n[ym]ph th[a]t I [a]m fl[a]tt[e]r[e]d thinks gr[ea]t d[ea]l [o]f m[e]. And thou my diary, my only confidant and keeper of my secret thoughts, promise me never to divulge them, and I will reveal to thee things divulged to none on earth. A few items now that I am at leisure will suffice. L[as]t w[i]nt[e]r, as before stated, I t[oo]k [u]p m[y] r[e]s[i]d[e]nc[e] [a]t Mr. B., r[e]sp[e]ct[a]ble f[a]rm[e]r, wh[o] w[a]s bl[e]s't with s[e]v[era]l f[ai]r d[au]ght[e]rs, 2nd of whom was then in Dallas [but?] returned however shortly after in a fine flow[?] of sprrls[?], a sprightly, han[d]some buxom bonnie lassie. I r[a]th[e]r admired h[er] p[e]rs[o]n[a]l ch[ar]ms, and gayety of manner, but at the same time thought h[er] rather vain; perhaps too much flattered (which by the by was not a bad guess) and withal rather inclined as most pretty girls are to coquetry. About 16. Well my business and plans of future operations were not among the ladies, especially the young ones. I did not urge an intimate acquaintance. The next week however a fair cousin of hers [Diadema Browning?] was to be united in holy wedlock to a young friend of mine [David Peebles]. This y[ou]ng d[a]m[se]l and m[y]s[e]lf were called upon to wait together on the occasion. Our acquaintance was encouraged at several subsequent parties and the next was at a splendid ball (see Feb. 22) at her f[a]th[e]rs. From our constantly [illegible] being in each others society, she being remarkably lively, and sociable, and familiar and I of a docile and sensitive nature; an intimacy and apparent attachment soon began to make its appearance in our conduct towards each other. This was noticed by others who soon imagined a more intimate attach[ment] between us than ever existed. After having determined to remove to this place Benton; in a playful mood, in a kind of romance I observed that on her account alone it was painful for me to leave C. H. That no pleasure in prospect could repay the loss of her most agreeable company!! On this I was exceedingly wrong; it conveyed a meaning I did by no means intend. It excited expectations in her poor unsophisticated mind, that I should studiously have avoided. I did not sufficiently reflect upon the [tendency?] of such expressions, accompanied with blandishments and marks of peculiar attachment upon a young and sensitive mind, susceptible at once of the tenderest and most ardent feeling. Soon after this she returned on a visit to her friends and relations in Dallas, whither I unfortunately accompanied her . . . Many [illegible] pleasant evenings we passed together since, many walks in her pleasant and beautiful garden. Many the sportive jests, and merry moments in each others company . . . unfortunately I fear my conduct has been too endearing and that my conversation and deportment have been calculated to excite to a glowing anticipation. I pride not in gallantry. I exult not in the captivation of youthful affection. Nothing could be more revolting to me, than an ignoble conquest over a tender and [line cut off] rather than pain the tender sensibility of a tender female bosom; or excite unpleasant sensations in an unsuspecting damsel or inflict disappointment on her hopes; freely would I give up and abandon [their?] cheerful company with all its pleasing [refinements?] and refined pleasure. Conscious of the injury I might unintentionally do her feelings, by my attention and conversation, I once took occasion to mention my thoughts on such matters, and to declare my sentiments and attachments towards her [sex?], nothing but pure good feeling and friendship. That any special emotion towards any was most distant from my thoughts. (believe 'tis [true?] now.) I was mortified with myself when told by my fair mentor, that my conduct was calculated to encourage a different opinion in others. That for the sake of their feelings I should [remain?] guarded in manner and expression. I was struck with the force of the remarks [cutting?/entering?] as the[y] were. Apologised, excused myself under warmth of social attachment. Promised myself to be more guarded more reserved. But what [avail?] such promises and protests against the force of female beauty and influence of female charms? Recently have we met at social [parties?]; in the ball room never witnessed her so charming. But I must not think much less speak of any thing in the [shape?] of Love. No, no, that cannot be. But where are words to express the awkwardness of my feelings when told by her while jesting, in her [partialities?] "that I was mistaken that had found but one, that she never had nor never expected to love another half [so much?], that if [disappointed?] in her expectations [there?] she never would bestow her affections elsewhere," with other expressions of strongest attachment; and then gave me to know that I was that individual. To some this must appear going too far for female [reserve?] and modesty. I deny it, but perhaps it was a [requitist?] [whim?], or flowed from the gayety of disposition. But the manner? [Illegible] it was not all real. Saturday 20. Attended preaching at Church Hill. Went up with some young friends early in the day. In the evening previous there had been a cotillion party at the Hill given to Mr. S. B. of Va. before his depart. for the east. Several young ladies from the country attended, amongst whom were the Misses H. (coincidently the eldest on whom I have already written some romantic [phillissick?]), health much restored, spirits and vivacity greatly improved. Miss M. a han[d]some and interesting girl, about 16. Rather slender statue [sic] of perfect symmetry fairly set off by an animated countenance, fine black eyes, long raven tresses gracefully encircling a neck fair as polish ivory. Engaging manner, a good deal of native simplicity, rather retiring, very sensitive; endowed with a full share of the reflecting faculties and upon the whole not very con---able[?]. Several others made out the crowd. Having made my best bow to the majesty of the fair ones and chatted with the old folks, we went forth to church. The girls were handed into church, the congregation had assembled, and preaching commenced. No sooner was I comfortably seated, than I was called of[f] on professional business. Miserable profession, thinks I, here I must leave all that's dear in life and follow you. New scene. A log cabin. Rural scenery, rustic simplicity, several old ladies seated around, and on the floor a young damsel in a --araxism[?] of fever. - - - P. M. again in Churchill, among the gay and cheerful, feigned cheerfulness, and affected to pass the evening agreeably. Ladies to be at church tomorrow. Returned home in a melancholy mood, to enjoy the luxury of a Saturday evening's reflections. 21. Sunday. Set out by daylight to visit the sick. Found them recovering. Repaired [to] Church Hill, partly it must be confessed for the sake of the agreeable company there and partly only altho' I tried to persuade myself principally to hear the gospel preached. I arrived just as they were about repairing to the water to administer the ordinance of Baptism. Crowds were standing around the doors from want of room within. As the crowd began to push forward, nearly the first ladies I saw were my fair young acquaintances of yesterday. Miss H. and her fair sister were in advance. All was bustle and crowd towards the pool. Miss H. by the aid of the stout arm of a galland friend, was leaving Miss M. in the lurch, sans seremonial[?]. This absolutely vexed me, and aroused my little spark of gallantry, which I determined to commission for official duty. 23. Just returned from a most extraordinary meeting. For 13 days in succession, 7 at Old Town and 6 at Church Hill, has there been animated preaching to a large respectable and attentive audience [sic]; during which time 49 new members have been added to the Church of Christ. The excitement that has prevatiled, the warmth of feeling manifested, and the good doings are truly matters of serious consideration. It could not have been the result of extraordinaty preaching, for it was most ordinary nor from great alarm, for no cause existed. It was the work of an Almight[y] hand! It was enough to cause the scep[t]ic to pause. 24. Oh, heavens! Are these the pleasures most highly prized by man? Are these the joys for which we live? If so, what is life to me that I cherish it? Insupportable burthen! When, oh, when shall I lay thee down! These are the gay and merry scenes of Life. These to me are dull, insipid, and wretched hours. In this bosom are excited no emotions of pleasure, tho' all around is gayety and merriment. Such scenes serve but to deepen my gloom, serve but to increase my melancholy. Such to mankind are the choice sweets of life, yet to me no gall is more pungently bitter. No, I was never constituted for pleasure, not while others mingle with hilarity around the social board, and sip pleasure from the flowing goblet. Solitude and thought alone have charms for me. Attribute not, my soul, attribute not this state of mind to gloomy despondency. No, 'twill bear the test of philosophy. Yes, reason approves it. With those whom I love whose nobleness of soul I reverence, whose lofty magnanimous disposition I admire, whose tender sensibility and refined feeling fills my heart with warmest emotion, with these I say rests the la--[?] of my soul, with such I delight to live. But with a thou[gh]tless, heartless, soulless multitude, my very heart sickens me and every tender feeling within me languishes and dies. Yet there are seasons when solitude and meditaition alone afford me pleasure, and this pleasure when fully enjoyed is sublime. Many and various are the emotions that have swelled this bosom within the last twenty four hours. Early, yea before the pearly tears of the night had ceased to reflect the rays of morning light from the bespangled herbage, I had mounted my horse and set out on my solitary professional excursions. The morning was lovely, the day was beautiful. All nature appeared decked in holyday [sic] apparel. Calmly, serenely, and beautifully shone the bright face of the god of day, as he rose sublimely from the eastern horison [sic]. The warbling multitude joined their cheerful notes, as if to chant a hymn of praise to the Deity of the universe. The beautiful landscape, the lofty forest, the verdent [sic] plain, the fruitful field; the rippling rill, the deep ravine; the blooming flower, the buzzing insect all conspired to render the scene more delightful, and to excite still more lofty emotions sublimer feelings. These however were soon compelled to yield to more gloomy ones excited by the groans of the sick, and pains of the afflicted, and the still more important consideration that the life of a fellow being depended upon my professional skill and attention! Gayer scenes however await us in the evening. Our good landlord, an old widower of course, being fully convinced that it is not good for man to be alone and having just taken to himself the better half of man, as in older times it entered into his head to make a feast. As usual on such momentous occasions, all was to be merriment and rejoicing, for the rib that was lost is found. Guests are invited, the fatted pig is killed, all things are now ready; the ornamental table is loaded with dainties, the pastry smil[e]s; tears of joy sparkle on the flowing bowl. All is bustle, joy fills the cup and merriment carries it round. Now that the viands have shared in part at least the fate of poor old Jonah, and the sparkling wine has been lulled to rest, let musick abound, let all be joined in the merry dance. D---l take the long face and serious brow. Float, ye little bubbles of existence along down the stream of time, on the billows of revelry, ye little dew drops sparkle for a moment on the green sprey of mirth and hilarity. But remember, that dew drop will pass like a vision, and that gaudy bubble in one short moment will burst and leave not a wreck behind. Skip and sport away ye little thoughtless lambs, while the heartless butcher Time, the old moralist, is whetting his relentless sythe to spill the vital current. Oh 'tis well that Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate; All but the page prescribed their present state. From beasts what men from men what spirits know Else who could suffer being here below. The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today. Had he thy knowledge could he skip and play? Pleased to the last he crops the flowery food And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood. Oh blindness to the future kindly given That each may fill the circle marked by Heaven. But what do I care for all these things? Vanity of vanities all is vanity. Can I relish that which is tasteless and insipid? More congenial, yes far more congenial would it be to my feelings, to have spent this evening at a funeral. Deepest solitude to me is a heaven to such scenes of apparent pleasure. But why this? What can be the cause of my present dejected state of feeling? Oh there is a cause at least for its aggravation. Sed causa haec incognita ceteris latet et emper latetit[?] But thou simple scroll to which I have often laid open my inmost feelings, ye must cease to know and to reveal the present emotions of this bosom, yes cease to record them. Oh for the joys of other days. But time flies on Eagle's wings, already the lamp burns dimly. All nature is now wrapt [sic] in solemn slumber. But let me forget the past and live upon the future. Yet "oft in the stilly night E'er slumbers chain has bound me, fond memory brings the light of other days around me." [August 1833] 5th 10 o'clock P.M. Just returned from the abode of one of the most wretched of all beings, 'a confirmed Drunkard.' This has been a busy day. Yesterday attended church at Woodville found the school discontinued. Left this morning with sister E. for home. Enjoyed a pleasant ride. Reached home past 8. Found Ma yet unwell, but on the mend. Left reluctantly at past 11. Dined at Mrs. Austill's. It being the first Monday in August, the great day that closes the electioneering campaign, stop'd at the Woodville precinct. Had the mortification to find all voting on the nullification ticket, and gave in a vote for 2[?] staunch[?] of state rights and union forever; and astonishing to say these were the only votes they received at that precincts [sic]; while the disunionists, the formenters[?] of party disputes, rode on the foremost horse. Well, I go for principle, and will ever support it, altho' as in this instance, I stand alone. Thank Heaven there is too much intelligence and patriotism in our state to be overruled by these malcontents, these wild demagoges, altho' they may for a while outnumber us here. P.M. returned to Benton, scarcely had allighted from a weary and almost famished horse, than I was called upon to visit in great haste. On a miserable bed in a wretched apartment, found a bloated, emaciated mortal agonizing with pain. Around his wretched couch in mournful silence sat a fond mother, an affectionate wife, her mother who at an unlucky hour had bestowed upon this ill fated man, the hand of her darling child. Their prospects then, and that but a few short years ago, were fair and promising. Young, wealthy, repected beloved they bid fair to realize all the blessings humanity is heir to. But ah! intemperance the cruel spoiler came. At first he drank for amusement, for company's sake; there was no harm in a social glass, with a second friend a second glass might be indulged with impunity. His home, his former heaven, became less desirable and more neglected. Eden had lost its charms for the serpent had entered, and the forbidden fruit was tasted, and many a sign of wo[e] was given that all was lost. Some months ago I attended on and relieved him of a severe attack. Candidly had I told him he must quit the use of ard't sp'ts, or shortly die the death of all others the most miserable, the death of a Drunkard. But 'twas all in vain. Again was he reduced to a bed of suffering. In vain had he employed the skill of 2 physicians, but his grog he must and would have, the consequence was he had failed to be relieved, had grown worse and worse till reduced almost to the last stage. I saw at once his situation and my own responsibility. Told him candidly his condition, that he had reduced himself to misery and degradation, and his family to distress and want. That he had repeatedly called in the aid of the profession without relief from his own misconduct; that under these circumstances I should do injustice to myself [to] undertake his case unless he would be governed by my prescriptions. The Hope of health and happiness nor the fear of their loss could induce him to give up the intoxicationg draught. All persuasion was in vain, a consultation was refused. I candidly told him he must either quit it or die. That I would not hazzard my professional reputation in his case. Most wretched man! His cries were for water. "Unquenchable thirst - - unutterable anguish," he would cry. "Oh that death would kindly interfere, that hell itself could not inflict keener torments than he then endured." "My anguish" he would cry, "is more than I can bear, my suffering more than I can bear; What more could hell inflict? Oh that I could die." Then would succeed execrations on all that's good. Awful is the situation of that man. May, oh, may heaven preserve me and mine from the sins of Intemperance! Blessed was the hour I gave the pledge of total abstinence. Friday August 9th 1833 Once more, an inhabitant of this terrestrial ball, have I been carried around the resplendent orb of light. Another year of my sojourning here below is merged in the mighty ocean of the past. Last solemn eve consigned to the silent chambers of the tomb my twenty third year. How grateful ought I to be to an all beneficent providence that I too am not numbered among those things that are not. Short, yea but a few days does it appear, since the last anniversary of my natal day, and yet how many things have transpired in that short space of time. My last birthday found me at my parental home, where I might have been, but was not, contented. Since that time I have been a sojourner from home. I have suffered as much and in all probability more than I have enjoyed, have spent as much as I have earned. Am no better contented now than then. No happier nor less miserable now than 12 months ago. My prospects neither improved, nor materially worsted. What then have I gained by living? In one thing probably I have gained. I have gained friends whom I delight to esteem, and some whom I love, and at the same time I am flattered in believing that I have gained few if any enemies. One thing I know and that is my consolation; intentionally I have injured none. My prospects at the beginning of a new year I still consider fair. I have settled myself in this place in the practice of my profession. In the neighborhood there will be much business. I flatter myself that I shall get a full share, and my friends flatter me more. Trial however must decide the matter. For the ensuing year I shall be more comfortably situated. My office nearly completed will enable me to study in greater retirement, and to have my meds. books more at my command. May the present [be] more usefully employed than the last year. As I grow older may I grow better and wiser. Let these considerations constitute the object of the present evening, and this object the great aim of the present year. August 10th How vain are the romantic passions of youth. I might almost be induced to believe that purest and holiest of all terrestrial passions Love, a mere romance, an idle tale from the poets ivory quill. None of those romantic feelings that once used to exalt my affections. Too much indifference. August 14. For some time past my new acquaintance and friend Mr. Woodcock had labored under a severe attack of sciatica from which he is now much recovered. Together we pas'd the evening at Mrs. Harrison's. This morning, left my friend at Geo. W.'s where I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with Mrs. B--d, a fine pleasant lady of the English breed, and Mrs. Robeson of Georgia, a handsome and accomplished lady of the French cast. Conversation ran on different topics. On the country, state of society, relative advantages and disadvantages of this state and of the state of Georgia etc. etc. In all which Mrs. R. manifested no small share of colloquial powers. Conversation chaste but not without some degree of affectation. Polite and affable but not without her follies and a full share of vanity. The charms of Miss H--n were by no means eclipsed by the brilliancy of the Georgia lady. No. They were more conspicuous under a purer and far lovelier mantle of virgin beauty. Modesty and rare intellectual sweetness. But as for myself, not a word to say. As stupid as an . . . a stupid animal. Headache, insuperable blues, cursed melancholy. There is a strang kind of appetency necessary to render every one comfortable in company. At some times female society is to me a paradise; at others nothing can possibly be more disagreeable. The latter was unfortunately my state of existence today. Wo[e]ful predicament. August 29. Called 25 miles to see a patient. Visited sister E. at Sylvan Grove. Saw sister H. unwell. Passed a few most delightful hours with Ma and sister Eliza. [September 1833] Sept. 1st 1833 Just moved into my new office in Commerce street. I now enjoy a much more [illegible] and convenient place for study, writing, reading, etc. and be it my resolve not to spend my time unimproved. My prosepects are now flattering. Business fast increasing, and that too amongst the most wealthy and respectable of the community. Whatever close application to business, industry, and perseverance, and steady and temperate habits can merit shall be mine. Let me be still more resolved to court and cultivate these cardinal virtues. And Thou my Diary my only confidant and companion here, shall share my leisure moments. Sept. 2nd Thus dieth the drunkard unwept and unlamented. The polluted body again returns to its mother dust, and the soul of that man to its own place. Happy might that man have been; but Intemperance, the cruel spoiler came. 23. For these last 20 days not a word have I spoken to my faithful diary. Business has pressed upon me, fair company have broken in on my leisure hours, and study has occupied my thoughts. I have been obliged to ride 25 miles after supper, and as many to breakfast. These rides however have not been frequent. Scenes of misery, scenes of suffering and of woe have constituted a great part of the atmosphere that surrounds me. 24. In company with Benj. H. a young man in whom I place the utmost confidence, I have just purchased a lot of ground in the most pleasantly, and for business the most advantageously situated place in Benton.