The independent press. (Abbeville C.H., S.C.) 1853-1860, 1859-04-15
Confession of an Onion-Eater.

| A"S 'o''o"iuS CONCESSIONS t0 ue SaulTl
cey, the English opium-e eater, will do
They are contributed to the Philadelphia
Sunday Dispatch:
do not pant for glory. Fame, present
or postlumous, does not lead me on
l do not rush into print with the burning
ambition of a Cobb or an Everett Sleep
brings me no exciting visions of street walls
broken out with my name in letters foot
long and wide in proportion, brilliant with
blue and gold and green, or Of whole col,
umns of the New York morning papers, de-
voted to the simple but startling announce
ment that write exclusively for the -
and for nothing else. 1t is only because the
dreadful secret of my life will no longer lie
concealed in the gloomy caverns of my soil
that now take my pen in hand' | have
a case, and feel that that case ought to be
put. | do not ask the sympathy ofthe
world. | do not want Society to bring it.
sell low on my account. have nothing to
suggest, no fault to find, no advice to give
just pnt my case.
am an Onion.eater. love the Onion
with love that it would be foolish ifnot
mad to attempt to express 10y words. Other
| food find convenient, and at times even
delightful. | may mention spring Chi kens.
They seldom appeal to me from the deg,a
slation Of the dish in vain. A bccfs,eak Of
fair proportions, beautifully brown, with a
cheerful crispness about it, steamed away in
its own jolly juice with the animated spirit
oivigo'ous health, and diffusing an inspiring
oder all around, fills me with emotions Of
gratitude ofjoy, and incIines my heart to
Worcestershire. The same, in a somewhat
less enthusiastic spirit, may be said of ten
der and trusty mutton chop. The vegeta-
bIe kingdLm likewise has charms for me,
The potato occupies high place in my conf,
dence and esteem. The potato respect and
esteem. The potato respect unlcr all cir
cumstances, could never treat it with any
thing but the most devout consideration,
not only because Of its own inherent worth
but also because the importance ola Special
Dispensation Q need not say in behalf Of
what green iSlantD attaches to it. At the
present moment can think Of few worlhier
objects Of affecionate attention than ba-
do the words throng the chambers of my
soul! 1t was the meaIy minister Of happi-
ness untold TO childlood's hours, and even
now cannot withstand its fascinating spells.
1t soothes me with its incense, and com
forts me with the rich treasures of its warm
heart. Other fruits Of tho husbandman
share my sympathy and favor. But love
the Onion Il writo Onion with capital
| o, and hope the printers will not bring
blush to my check by giving it a small o.
From what know ofprintcrs as class,
believe better things Of then,) When
confess that my love for the Onion amounts
to passion, an Inspiration, q mania tha.
| awake or in bed, it consumes me with
fierce fire; that it interferes with my busi-
ness, and sometimes makes mo reckless Of
razor for many days, and utterly oblivious
10 clean linen-I am aware that present
myself in very absurd light indeed, and lay
myself entirely open to the public riJicule
and contempt. But l have made up my
mind to put my case fairly, once and for
ever, and it shall be. o, how love that
vegetable! never see string Of Onions
swinging idly before shop-door without
pausing and bending a look Of affection
and pity upon them. Then am distracted
from the hustle Of the bricks, and translated
into an atmosphere rare and ecstatic. Then
may depraved juveniles bump violently
against me and make vulgarly merry at my
expense-I heed them not. Then may
crowds collect with eyes dilated and up.
raised hands, and policemen all in vain re-
quest me, with the urbanity for which they
are SO eminently distinguished, to move on.
Blythe by the spell breaks. wave my en-
chanters a sad farewell, and 90 wildly up
the street.
At home, in dark bin in the cellar,
| "blCtl, nave ucdIu u sdiu, WAS AT one tltllC
used as receptacle for coal, have at differ
ent times stored away large quantity of
my adored vegetables-as many as ton
of them, shonld think-and I am con
stantly making additions to the collections
This is consecrated spot for me. IIither l
resort, as the old academicians used to resort
to their sacred groves-for contemplation
reelection, inward peace. Here do wor,
ship my deity, ensbriued in pine wood of a
somewhat dingy sort. Here do pour forth
my soul to the divinity, in poetry which
find it impossible to remember long enough
or we'll enough to commit to paper.
But all these are only the external mani.
festations Of passion which bursts forth
with its full strength and ardor at meal
time. Could love fulfill its prayers, I would
have Onions three times day. My appe