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DnLrai 3 unmal, PDrusOtro to~ $su01lyn ffiS)ts, 34 s Jk1i1ics1 6:nnt2 iut1iiea Cihndur, 'Ir ait, ponpl" kgOicuttu &
-V F DIIS rorito. "We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of our Libertlian if it must fall, we *111 Perish amidst the Ruins."
W. F. DVAisoE, Proprietor EDGEFIELD S ARCH 23, 1853. VO0. 0Vm..-io. 10.
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THE LILLY OF L-.
BY J. T. TOWEItDGE.
Never shall I -forget the hast New Year's
Eve I passed in the village of D-. Even
at this day, the strange and terrible event,
which has impressed indellibly upon my soul
the memory of that night, haunts my itmagi.
nation in the dark nid-winter hours and not
unfrequently disturbs my dreams. I have
often thought it singular, that it is only at
the close of the year-in'the dull and dreamy
December-that these recollections force
tlemtselves upon me with-a degree of force.
It must he 'something It the association of
the season with the incident. Whatever it
may be, it is that something which impels
me at this moment to look 1 --k with mem
ory fresh and strong to tha
and relate its story..
It was the inight of the tl
cember. There was.to be
L.--,irlyma d g1ref
this hall. 1 was one of tie company of six
gentlemen-as boys advanced in their teens
like to be called-who chartered a large
sleigh to be drawn boy four splendid black
horses, and to be. driven by the celebrated
horse tamer, F--; (so well known in
L -, and who may lie still livin:: there,)
whose services we considered ourselves for
tunate in having secured.
It was just seven o'clock in the evening,
when F - having faithfully picked up our
party in-differtnt parts of the village, we set
out from L--. The air was bitter cold
the glowitng constellations twinkled with un
surpassed brilliancy in the clear, frosty sky;
the crisp crackled and shrieked beneath the
ltofs of the horses and the runners of the
sleigh; and the chime of the bells filled the
We a tmerry party ; and Ott settinag out
everv heart beat high int joyful unison with
the chime of the bells. Wevll provided with
strawv and " buffadoes," we defied the cold,
and only latughed the louder when wve fet
th;e frost spitrit tingling int our fitgers and
toes, atnd maliciously attackitn" our faces.
.Having beetn disa ppointted in tnot bieitng
able to obtain for a compatnion the young~
queen of any neart-who had cruelly en
g aged herself for another scene of pleasure,
although she knewv I expected hter to go with
mue to the ball, I was the bachelor of the
company ; all my' compantions beidig pro' ided
with par'tners. To conceal the achitg venid
itt my heart, I assumed -an excecding gaiety,
aand declared ttyself happy ini my liberty,
since it aflforded me ant oippoitunity to try
my skill in driving four idhand. F- ac
commodated tme with the reins, and I'-useti
them so as to command his approbatio'l aned
at thme same time to excite emulutiotn in the
hearts of otne or two of my companions.
Whena I was too cold to enjoy driving
any lotnger I crept into the body of the sleigh
in the ntidst of thce buffaloes anad strate whicha
etveloped the party ; and Williatm G
proposed to take tay place.
"No-do tnot, William," I heard his part.
ner say itn a beseeching voice.
Thtis Lizzie Lore-who will ttot blutsh nowv
to see her name wvritten in hull. Witht the
exception of my perfidious Mary 1 looked
upon Lizzie as the most chcarming gitl itt our
village. She was ahen sixteetn-tall, slender
and graceful-itt shtort, thte morst paerfect lilly
I ever beheld. My Mary was a rose. H ad
I preferred lillies to roses, I might have pre
frred L'rrzie to Mary. As it was, I thought
her without att equal in beauty and grace
with one exception.
William was Lizzie's b~eau. Tltey were
quite devoted to each othter, and~ quarrelled
often enongh for their friends to suppose
there was a great deal of jealous love ott
botht sides. Thaey htad some sort of misun
terstantding that evenitng. William htad been
somewhat too attentive to somte other fair
one; and Lizzie's feieling had been hcurt.
It mightt htave beetn as maucht spite as emo
ationj of mny drivitng wvhich prompted Williatm
to volunteer to take the reitns.
As [ said before, Lizzie begged htitn not
o chatnge his seat. He was by hter side of
". Why not ra Ice atked.
"Oh !" said Lizzie, " I am so cold ! But
go if you like," she added in a tremblitng
I suppose Wilfliam was ashamed thten to
"Are you cold?" he asked, somewhtat
earnestly. But hte added quickly itn a gay
tnealluidingr to myself
"Well, Fred will keep you warm! He
understands it! Ha! ha! do your duty,
And William took his seat with the driver.
I set down by Lizzie's side.
Too gallant to allow William's sugges
tions to pass without taking advantage of it,
I let my arm gently glide around the Lilly.
She as gently repulsed me; and heaving a
sigjh, I took care of my unruly arm. I was
sorry I had not put it where it belonged at
first. Lizzie was nevertheless inclined to
I tried to talk with her without meeting
with much encouragement towards sociabil.
ity; and I was not at all sorry when Wil:im
finally returned to take his seat.
I beard him whisper to Lizzie; but she
answered him very briefly. I thought she
must be very angry with hin to be so silent.
" Are vou cold now " be asked.
Why don't you talk then I"
I don't feel like talking," answered Liz.
zie in a low tone.
"You are angry with me 1"
" .am not angry; WVil!iam !'
Lizzie made no reply.
Well, if ou are," said William between
his teeth, "can't help it. It is imnpossilh'e
for me to please you always. You are con
tinually getting angry with me about trifles.
When you get over it just let me know."
I always thought William was a little cru
el. lie turned to Jan H--, and began
to converse with her in the gayest tone he
could command. Still Lizzie said nothing.
She only sighed.
Once more I endeavored to draw her into
conversation; but she scarcely answered
me. Observing my object, William put his
face to hers, and said with a slight laugh
Are you pleased yet ?"
She made no reply ; but seated herself in
a more comfortable position in the bottom
of the sleigh.
Let her pout," laughed William. '- I ai
used to it. She'll get over it soonest if you
leave her alone."
I must confess I was partly of his opinion,
and thinking I had done all duty demanded,
resolved to follow his advice. I did not
speak to the Lilly again. She sat motion.
of the sleigh.
the twinkling stars!
And our four black horses pranced gailey;
and still the snow shrieked and crackled be.
neath the runners hoofs; and as we flew on
wai d dark fences seemed jagged lines traced
upon the white ground.
Still Lizzie, in the midst of all thiq mirth.
sa motionless and silent on the bottom of
Thus we arrived at D -. F- drove
up to the hotel, where the ball was to be, in
ran( style wheeling the four blacks into a
beautiful circle, and bringing the sleigh within
half an inch of the steps. Just at that time
our merry voices were pouring forth the
stirring tones of the " Canadian boatman's
song," which to my ear had never sounded
so beautiful, and grand, and full of soul
stirring melody as on that winter night. I
do not like to hear it now. Ever since it
brings thnat scene vividly before me, and fills
my soul with sadness! Oh, memory ! how
dost thou by one link, drag up from the dark
gulf of the past the endless chain of joys and
sorrows, forged in the fiery furnace of youth!
Its clainking falls heavily upon my heart,
like the solemn sound of Sabbath bells!
Our song ceased with the chime of sleigh
bells! Our merriment bad protected us
against the cold, anid it was no great matter
to overcome the numb sensation which sit
ting long in one position had produced ; and
we rose upon our feet. Youths leaped to
the steps, and wvith playful complaints of be.
ing frozen, the girls, with their assistance did
the same, with one exception. Lizzie sat'
"Lizzie," said William.
There wvas no reply.
"She is asleep !" said- one of the girls
" ll risk that in the noise wve made !" ex
laimed another. '
"l e' is making 'believe !" said William
pevishly. " She is only wa-iing for moe to
get out of the wvay. Well ll humor her.
Fred, he so good as to escort her in wvhen
she is ready !".
And William to shaow~ himself independent
-I have always supposed-walked proudly
into the hotel.
" Conme, Lizzie !"-exclaimed Ellen V
impatiently, " we are waiting for you."
" She is actually asleep !" said I. "She
would not act so, Ilam sure, if she was not.
Take hold of her."
Ellen shook her companion's shoulder.
The Lilly drooped the more. Ellen pushed
aside the thick veil, and endeavored to raise
" She won't wvake up !" she exclaimed
"There is something wvrong," muttered
F--, who had given the reins to the ostler:
"I am afraid !" said Ellen, starting back.
"I-I-think she has fainted !"
F- bounded into the sleigh. I saw
him tear the thick glove from his hand, and
lay his palm on Lizzie's face. A suppressed
exclamation escaped his lips; no more ; and
lifting the Lilly in his arms as if she had been
an infant, he bore her hastily into the hotel.
A vague terror had come over me. I he
lieve I feared the worst. Uncertainty made
horror more horrible. I heard F- call
for help the moment he entered the ball, and
being wholly beside myself' with fear, I rush
ed into the public parlor. I met William
G- near tdie d'oor..
" There is something the matter with Liz
zie," I articulated.
Either my words or my manner convoyed
a farul meing to William's heart. Laugh
ter died onl his lips. Mirth faded from his
countenance. He became deathly pale.
With Lizzie I" he gasped.
Making a strong effort to appear self
possessed iii the presence of the crowd which
pressed around me, I said-" I think she is
A cry of consternation quivered on every
lip. Only William was silent. No, direction
*ai r.eeded to lead him to the Lilly. Al
ready a crowd pressed around her indicating
the spot where she lay in the arms of those
who were endeavoring -to restore sensation.
It was too late!
I heard a murmur fall from the ashy lips
of Jane H-, who had penetrated the
throng, and obtairned a view. of her compan.
" Frozen to death!"
Dizzy and faint I turned away. For a
momenti I seemed staggering under a horrid
dream. The walls re-eled around me. Gast.
ly iaces and spectral forms floated before my
vision in a mit.
My perfect consciousness was restored by
seeing a pale figure approach, With wild ges.
t ares of despair. It was William! His face
was haggared; I never .saw a countenance
s full or grief unutterable. He wrung his
hands and muttered
" Lizzie! Lizzie !"
Trhat was all. I took him by the hand. I
e ideavored to say something-I hardly know
what-sonething to lessen his grief-but lie
pusled nie from him with a desperate ges
t ire, and falling heavily upon a chair with
h's hands clasped fiercely to his brow, groan
e I aloud.
How'deeply was.the terror of that night
stamped into my young and inexperienced
heart! llow vividly the scene flashes now
upon my soul ! Once more I seem to gaze
on the pale face of the Lilly as she lay in
theicoid embrace of death, still beautiful in
the magnificence of her ball-room dress!
Oh! the vain and hollow heart of youth!
Not even the fate of one so young and fair
could check the mad pulse of mirth, or im.
press a serious thought upon the gay beings
who had met to celebrate the death of an
otler year! . The music pealed forth its joy
ous tones; the dance went on ; the ball-room
resounded iith gayety; and in another
chamber lay the corpse of the beautiful and
young; and there we, her grief-stricken i
nda. noured forth our lamentations over
that leariui imew iear s Eve-as uey uu
this saddened heart of mine!
"THE WORLD OWES XE A LIVDG."
No such thing, Mr. Fold.up-your-ha ids;
the world owes you not a single cent' Yinu I
have done nothiing these twenty yeirs but
consume the products earned by the sweat
of other men's brows.
" You have eat, and drank, and' s-ept: what then?
Why eat, and drank, and skpt aga n."
And this is the sum total of your life. Arnd
the woi ld " owes you a living ? For what? I
How comes it indebted to you to that t: ifling
anount? What have you done for it? What
family in distress have you befriended ?
What products have vou created? What
miseries have you alleviated I What acts
have you perfected I The world owes you
a liviag idle man! Never was there a more
absurd idea L- You have been a tax-a
sponge upon the wvorld ever since'y'o come
ito it. It is v'our creditor in a vast amount. I
Your liabilities are immense, your assets are
nothiang, and yet you say the world is oin~ag
you. Go to !. The amiount iai which you
stand indebted to the world is greater thian
yu will ever have the power to liquidate !
You owe the world the labor of your two
strong arms, and all the skill in work they
might have gained ; you owe the world thea
labor of that brain of yours, the sympathies
of that heart, the energies of your being;
vou owe the wiorld the wvhole moral and in- C
tellectual capabilities of a man! Awake, I
theii, from that dreamy do-nothing state of ~
slotfulness in which you live, and let us no
longer hear that false assertion that the world
is owing you, unitil you have done something.
PoLITENEss AND) CIvILITY DEFINED.-- I
polite maan is always civil, a civil " man is I
not always polite. Politeness is in the minad, ~
ii thie temper. It is always the fruit of a
good education; it is the consequence of I
iviag with wiell-bred people. True polite- I
iess is not ceremonious. Civility on the C
contrary is exceedingly so. Politeness has a
language; delicate, soft agreeable. Civility
is uancertaan in its expressions. Politeness isC
simple, easy, soft, t anc. Civility is stiff,
awkwvard, and has little or no siiicerity. A
plite person makes us perfectly at ease; a I
eivil one tires us, and fatigues our minds. Aa
diiterested persoan is alway polite, an in
terested maan is hut civil.
MWARRIAGE.-" No maan ever knows when,I
whlere, or whom he'll marry. It's all non.
sease planning and speculatinag about it.
You might as well look out for a spot to a
fall in a steeple chase. You come smash
dowan in the middle of your speculations."
THERiE is a girl in Troy who wears sucla
a sunshialy face that when she goes out of
doors the snow birds take her for summer,
follow her about as if she had app~le bios.
soms in her apron. Wijth such a power in
cheerfulness, isn't it singular that womani
ever allowv themselves to have the sulksi
"SAIxx run to the store and get some
sugar," said a mother to her son, a promis
ing youth of ten summers.
" Excuse me, ma; I aam somewhat indir.
posed this moraning. Send father and tell
him to bring ame a hunch of good segars and
a plug of tobacco."
A FELLOW who wa6 being led to execu
ton told the officers they most not take him]
through a certain street lest a merehatt
who resided there, should arrest him for an;
od debt t
THE DAYS 2N ! AT
We will not deplore them, the daysi re past ;
The gloom of misfortume.ia e1ei-a
They were lengthened by sor sul'ied by
Their griefs were too many, theV 's were too
Yet know that their shadow.satr@ no more.
Lvt us weleome the prospecttat b tens before!
We have eherishe'l fair hopes w ve plotted
We have lived till we find tieil as dreams,
Wealth has nielted like snow ped in the
And the steps we have elim departed like
Yet shall we despond, irlile.. unbereft,
A nd honr, bright honcr,an ate left?
0! slhall we despond, while the of time
Yet open before us theih recordsain el
While books lend their tresuires &ing, which
Hlave been our high solace w s'd by ill;
While humanity whispers such Nathe car
AA it softens the heart, like . e, tohear!
D! shall we despond, wlifle n -still free.
We can gaze on the sky, and the
While the sunshina can waken a it of del'ght
And the sltars are a joy andaglo night;
While each harmony runiing nature can
[n our spirits the impulse of gpraise!
0 ! Icrus y longer then vaily
Dver scenes which have fadid M y that arc
But by fath unforsaken, una'w iulscbance
Dn hope's waving banner still- k our glance;
And should fortune prove criel also to the last.
[Lt us look to the future and the past!
THE" Ii A T MIE.
"A time to die!"-A set' -an appoint.
d tine-to every one f- ointed-we
lo not know it-hut God a it. In His
ioly book it is written th ch a year,
n such an hour-you-y 1t man-that
naiden-that child- .. shall die!
knd escape is Imposs ell might
% 0! I i 1 : I
,ou breathe is a human depth knell. This
ky is a canopy of a great death chamber.
'his earth is a aienveious and mighty sepul
Ire. And our times are appointed !-our
lays are numbered ! For a set tine and an
ippninted, is-" 'The time to die!"
" There is a time to die!" For whom I
)h, for all of us-for you to die, and for mne.
)ifficult I know it is to realize this-most
lifficut to impress it an the living conscience.
can believe that others are mortal. I can
ielieve that the dearest ones on earth will
ie cold, and shrouded and coffined in the
,rave. But alas, I can scarcely bring it
ome to my own heart that death will come
o me-that this hand .will soon be pulseless
-this voice soon be hushed forever-this
eart beat no more-this forehead pressed
[own by tIe coffin lid and the cold, dark
arth. But yet, as sure as God liveth, it
omes-death comes-td all! Youth, be.
yved youth will die ere the spring brightens.
iged man-you whose head is a crown of
'lory in our midst-a few intore days, and
nose gray locks will he put away from that
3rehead for the mourners to, look upon.
)ear child, you will lie in a little coffin, cold,
enaceless, silent as the dead lie. Man-man
ayour noble stature and unbent strength
iat flashing eye will fade-that mighty
eart wa'" break. Oh, I see iti A darkened
hambr -friends gathering silently and sad
~-beue,'d forms pressing to the bedside
pale face, a convulsed frame-work. Oh,
hear it-the wild farewell-the breath
rawn gaspingly-the broken-hearted sob
ing of mother, of husband, of wife, of child,
)h, I see it!1-the shroud-the coffin-the
ier-the funeral ttain-the open grave!
~ut whose? do you ask-whose? alas, yours !
td yours and yours. Oh, my God, what,
'htat is lifei A cloud, a vapor, a dream that
aniisheth-a tale that is told-a walk blind
sided amid open graves, and on the brink
f great precipices.
In yonder prison there lies a man appoint
d to execution. All appeals for executive
lemney have been in vain.'' On such a day,
rsuch a month, he dies. Oh! if lie could
ome and stand in this place, how he would
reach to you. How think you the time
eems to him? How terrible these tmornitng
*nd evening bells that measure his being !
1owv awful the slow movetment of sunbeams
long his dungeon walls! IHow wild each
ourly stroke on the great time-keeper!
low every sound on the dull ear, and every
hadow that creeps through the gloomy cell,
cems the footfall, the whisper, the shadow
if that dread thing, Death I:Death ! And yet,
s he nearer to death surely than we Why,
vhere is death-awvay yon'der i Nay, sirs;
ae is here-here-sittings in these seats
valking through: these aibles-his shadow
alls betwveen speaker and hearer-death is
acre! Where is eternity-years away? Nay,
aere-just behind that curtain. Hark I this
ittle knock sounds through--death and eter
iity are here. We sometimes picture life as
Sgreat path, leading to a precipice. But
his is not true; it is a narrow path, right
dlong a precipice! The verge crumbles now.
)h my God I w-rite it on our hearts-send
rom the grave of the glorious dead a voice,
:o bring the mighty truth in thunder on our
A PUNsTER says, " My name is Somerset.
[ am a miserable bachelor. I cannoti mar
ry ; for how eoulId ]I hope to prevail on any
young lady possessedf of the slighiest delica
rv to turn a Somerset."
ENcOUR&GEMM Oro POOR BOYS.
It is a singular fact that the sons of th
wealthy and fashionable seldom ever ar
able to fill the places of their parents. rhej
become vain, idle, dissipated fops, and at
tend to everything else :except their owi
proper, mental moral and physical develop
ments. Instead of attempting to rise upoi
their own good character and capabilities
they are content to rest upon the reputatioi
of their family and ancestry. They becomi
an excrescence upon the body politic and
but too often, sink into the grave, degrade<
disgraced. How much all this is owing t(
the defective training and character of thi
mothers, we pretend not to say. One thint
is certain that young men whose mothers di
their duty by exercising a judicious control
seldom if ever turn out badly. They ma3
not be brilliant, but they will at least b
respectable members of society. How fa
the mother may impart her own traits an(
peculiarities to her children may be judgec
by the following anecdote related by th<
Rev. Dr. Hawks, of New York, in a lectur<
which he delivered before the Historica
Society of that city:
" Amnong those who formed a part of the
settlement during the revolutionary struggle
was a poor widow, who having buried hei
husband, was left in poverty, with the tast
upon her hands of rearing three sons; oi
these, the two eldest, ere long, fell in the
cause of their country, and she strugglec
on with the youngest as the best she could
After the fall of Charleston, and the disas.
trous defeat of Col. Buford, of Virginia, by
Tarlton, permissions was given to sonnt
four or .five American females to carry
necessaries and provisions, and administer
some relief to the prisoners confined on
board the prison ship and in the jails of
Charleston. This widow was one of the
volunteers on this errand of mercy. She
was admitted within the city, and braving
the horrors of pestilence, employed hersell
to the extent of her humble means, in alle
viating the deplorable sufferings of her
countrymen...She knew what she had to
encounter before she went; but, notiith
standing, went bravely on. Her message of
humanity having been fulfilled, she left
Charleston on her return; but alas! her ex
posure to the pestilential atmosphere she
bad been obliged to breathe, had planted in
her system the seeds of fatal disease, and
ere she reached her home, she sank under
this free Repu , . -
mother of Andrew Jackson:
New lf ARRiAur TEA.-The British gny
erment is trying to hire the corvicts at
Van Dieman's Land to get married, by pro.
nising them freedom, as a reward for iheir
hinrdihoood in undertaking that hazardous
enterprise. It is said that all the old maids
and bachelors on the island are embracing
the opportunity to change their condition,
by marrying handsome young thieves and
vagabonds of either sex. Some of the cun,
ning rogues, however, will not swallow the
matrimonial hook even whlen it is baited
with such a sweet morsel as liberty. A sim
ilar government policy was adopted once be
fore in England. When a man was con
icted of certain offences, and sentenced to
e hung at tyburn, if any lady could be
f'ound willing to espouse him under the gal
ows, he wvas forthwith pardoned and set at
iberty, the marriage being considered pun.
shment enough. On one occasion, wh'len
ack Ketch was about to perform his office
on a certain criminal, a lady stepped forth
rom the crowd and ofi'ered to take him for
etter or worse. The poor fellow looked at
er, then at the cord, hesitated for a mo
ent, and finally expressed his determination
in the following distich:
" Long nose, sharp chin :
Tic the rope, hangman !"
BURlYING MoNEY BY T~la ARABs OF THlE
DEsER.-Dr. J. V. C. Smith, in a recent
ecture on Palestine, alluded to the follow
ing circumstance: The Sheiks, or Arab
hiefs, are in the habit of burying their
reasures in the sands of the desert; no
atter what it is, an Americanm half-eagle or
tin box, anything which they wish to pre
serve secure, they at once repair to the
esert, and deposit it where rnone but them
selves can hope to find it. Wheni the Doctor
visited the Dead Sea, he hired three Sheiks
o accompany him as guides and protectors;
e gave .five dollars to each, besides the
present always necessary at the close of a
argain ; the Sheiks went immediately out
into a desert place to deposit their money.
Some of these Arabs live to be one hundred
nd twventy-fIve years old ; they continue to
ury their wealth as long as they live ; they
are reputed to be wealthy because they
ave much wealth buried; yet increase of
ihes make scarce any diff'erence in their
ndulgence or mode of life. In their old
age they forget where the articles are de
osited and die without ever leaving any
thing for their children. It is supposed that
not less than a million of dollars in value is
thus buried annually, and the time will come
when the searching for and recovering of
thi hidden wvealth will be an extensiv-e and
roitable business. The address was an
xceedingly interesting and instructive one,
and'listened to by as many as could gain
dmittance to the house.-Boston Traveler.
"FATHIER, are there any boys in Con
S" No, my boy, why. do you ask that
"Because the paper said the other day
that one of the members kicked Mr. Cor
win's Bill out of the house."
SoME ohe~ computes that .the ~as d this
ontry destroy fifteeun milliens .of dollars
worth of property every year. No allusion
cALoRMA. AS IT I.
THE following letter which we find in our
drawer, clipped from the Carolinian proba
bly, will be round interesting to those who
desire to know something practical and
true about the great " gold diggings of the
SAx FiR cisco.
DE.R COLONEL: When we parted, I
promised to write to you as soon as I be
came sufficiently acquainted with the coun
try to give you a satisfactory account of the
resources, etc., of the country. Having
been unable to hold a pen lor many months,
of course I could not comply.
The mineral region of California is en
tirely unfit for agriculture, except for the
g.owth of barley, the plains being destitute
of sufficient water for irrigation.
The rivers are rapid, having made their
way through successive ranges of moun
tains wi:h high banks, upon which scarcely
an acre of arable land can be found, not
more than sutlicient to furnish one-tenth of
the mining population with the common
The placer diggings are becoming rapidly
exhaus'ed, notwithstanding all that is said
to the contrary. I am perfectly satisfied
that miners do not average three dollars per
day ; some may make more during part of
t::e year, and during the dry season not more
than a support, or one-third. The quartz
mines have ruined thousands. Millions of
dollars have been lost by quartz claim:ants.
Some have expended all they had made for
severa.l years prospecting quartz ledges, with
the hope of finding deposits in the rock,
and most probably for every hundred ledges
that have been prospected, not more than
one deposit has been found, and that not
sufficiently valuable to pay the expenses of
the Company. Others have expended thou.
sands in inachinery, believing from the rich
specimens assayed, that the- rock would
yield from five to fifty cents per pound, and
that in a few months they would be able to
realize immense fortunes from the proceeds
of their quartz mills. But unfortunately,
all have been disappointed; two-thirds of
the quartz mills have been abandoned-a
few are probably making expenses, and the
remainder something more-but all have
fallen far short of the expectations of their
unfortunate owners. Our mill was fortu.
nately small, and although it failed to pay,
nor lov wn very inconsiderable in com.
-but not before ; and I am satisfied that in
a few years the placer diggings will be ex
hausted, and California will be entirely de
pendant upon her quartz mines and agricul
The valleys of the Sacramento and San
Joaquin will always yield more hay than
can be consumed in the whole State, be
sides supporting immense herds of cattle;
but being subject to inundation, they can
never be cultivated to advantage.
There are, however, other valleys nearer
the Pacific, as well as some on the East,
that are extremely fertile, and produce every
egetable in the greatest perfection. I have
seen cabbage heads that weighed thirty-five
pounds, and beets and radishes as large.
Barley and Oats are the rnatural products of
the soil, arid wvheat growvs in great perfec
tion without irrigation. The whole of this
country, hills and valleys, in the summer is
one immense flower garden. Tulips, prim.
roses, luplins, and all the labiate flowers, as
well as a hundred others, grow in the great
'The climate in the mountainous part of
the State is too wvarn1 during the day to be
plesant. The hights are alwvays cool. Ott
the bay, and particularly at San Faancisco,
the climate is delightful, and would he the
finest in the wvorld if it were not for wiestern
winds that prevail there during the summer
months. The temperature is delightful,
being seldom cold enough to render fire
ecessary, and never warm etnough for sum
mer clothing to be comfortable.
Professional men abound in this country,
particularly lawyers. Somte of them have
dotie wvell, as well as some physicians; but
the majority are barely miakitng a living, anid;
some niot even that much. 1 am practising
in San Francisco, wvith fair prospects before
me, there being little cornpetitiotn in surgery.
I have no doubt of doing well, havirng five
thousand dollars certain-being Physician
to the State Marine Ilospital.
A good saw mill is the best property in
tais coutntry, beitng sure to pay.
Ilam truly, yours, H-. H. T.
" Julius, is you better dis morning ("
" No, I was better yesterday, but I got
" Am der no hopes den c.J your discove
"Discovery ob "v/nat !"
"Your discovery from der convalescence
which fotetied yer on your back."
" D". depends, Mr. Snowv, altogether on
de prognostications which amplify the dis
ease; should them terminate fatally, the
doctor thinks Julius is a gonenigger; should
dey not terminate fatally, he hopes dis
colored individual wont die till anoder time.
As!I said before, it all depends on the prog
nostics, and till these come to a head, it is
hard telling wvhedder de tigger will discon
tinue his come or not.
' Don't know, sir."
" Yes, you do know, tell me."
" Wall I guess it was uncle, for father
sez he wvas so cutnning he got every body to
fr'st h', and wvan't fool endugh to pay
AN ARTIst painited a e'anon sa~ fraturally
b'IM wher day,. that when he finished the
MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL UoNVE3TION. -
In the Jackson Miss., Flag of the Unioa, of
the 14th inst., we perceive a long list of
Delegates to the Memphis Commercial Con
vention, appointed by Gov. Foote, n con,
formnity with the request of the ltem s.
Committee of Correspondence.
This Convention will assembfeonlieflirst
Monday in June next. Delegatione, con;
posed of the best men in the South,. will be'
present. The questions to be discussed a'
of the first interest, and grandest importatce,
and ought to attract the undivided aftentiw
of every well wisher of Southern improv
ment, of every advocate of Southearly comu
mercial independence. Railroads, direst
trade with Europe from Southern' ports;*
manufacturers, a communication with tfie
Pacific by means of a steam or caloric lbcn
motive, will be thoroughly and ably discussv
ed.-N. 0. Bulletin.
ONE HUNDRED MILEs PER HouR.-'A
Maine Yankee" announces, through the-1Ng
tional Intelligencer, the invention of a form'
of road and improved locomotive, which;-hbe
says, will safely transport the mails andipasa
sengers at the rate of one hundred miles po
hour! The writer further says he has beers
made acquainted with the details of tIlese
improvements, " which are so palpablyoot
rect in theory, and feasible in practicei-that
every civil engineer and railroad manswili,
on examination, at once recognize aud Idl
mit, as the desideratum, even to the exlent
of safety and speed above indieated." '1'-1 -
next Congress, it is said, is to be inviieditb
secure its adoption, and give to the worl&',
the result of the first experiment. The-corw,
struction of a post-railroad between Wasi
ingtou and New York, we think, will.i
hastened by this invention.
HOG SrATIs-ris.---The number of Itg
packed at the Weet, embracing eight Stao.
up to the 8d of March, is 2,014,005, betAg
an increase of nearly half a million over the
previous year; but this number is rednbet
about one hundred thousand by the 'fallin'
off in weight. The crop reduced topound 9
compared with last year, shows'an exces
the previous year of nearly eight millionsof
pounds, or an increase of twenty-four-pie
NEWSPAPER READER3.-lf subscriber .t&
journals, like church members, in " stoppitag
their paper," were required to producegan.
editorial certificate before they could .sob.
which was never sent to him, but Ohicbr- he
ought to have detected in some of Jis'e
change papers. We certify that E. F. widhH
to transfer his patronage to another p,',
because, having taken this paper six yeltl
wvithout paying a cent, he felt himself ins.*'
ed by having a bill sent to him by way of'rs
minder, postage unpaid. We certify that'B.B.
in his own opinion, is a poet of the first'WIa
ter; but the editor, unfortunately dif'eig!
rom him in his opinion, is regarded by'hi'
is wholly unqualified for his office.' V"
:ertify that 1. J. has stopped his pape-' be:
:ause the editor had the temerity to emoeess
in opinion on a certain matter without'htvl
ng previously ascertained the opkiion'of
his particular subscriber."
THE Scotch are inquisitive people.'-'Iheri
arious questions are deemed very dbstrusive, -
nd are carried to a length. Tw'o' gile
nen fell in together, both travellers on'hotmse'
~ack and strangers, to each other, whien 'the&
ollowing conversation took place.
" Raw evening sir," obsered: tha' on
ith anm A berdeen accent.
" Yes rather," replied theothem<.
" You will be a stranger-- in'theie'idis,
:ontinued the A berdeenian.'
"If I can," Iaeonicallgreplied~ thi' othew'
ookinwg neither to the rights hnd- not to -th6
" Perhaps, like myself' yatt mhy be going
" Perhaps," responwdcd the' othef' ykiti
" In that case,-jierliaps you' will put df'at>
ullen I" .
"1 may, or Fa may- not," ab'svered' his'
"Pardon me the liberty of the iistibb'
iir, may I ask if yon are a' b'aaoM~"
"Oh! married i
" No, no.".
" Sir, I beg your'pirrdon,, I m'ajy h'av tin
ntentioally todehed u'pon d painfui subject ;
our 'olack dress ought to:, ellee.t my iu'qM.
i's; I beg your pardon sir a wvido'sde'r f
" No, no, no." . . .
" Neither a bachelor, nort a maried man,
or widower; in heaids .nanie Sar; then;
what can you be I" --
" A divorced man' and be d-d todyou,
ince you must kn~w!" e'laiinted the
tranger, clapping spars to his hrs, and
ashing out of sighat ins.tantly.
A SWEARING PARlTY.--fl bthe coon
fes of the State of Conniicut, (says the
Knickerbocket,) boasLs . ~a judge who,
hough poorly furnished with those little
efinements usualdy ,ipe(: with in polished
society, is an energeti,' shrewd man, and a
pomising law~yer. .. .A neighbor of his,some
weeks ago,' Gasbout to give away his
anghter in mnage, and having a depm
ooted dislilie. jo the clerical profession, and
being1 determined, as he said,.." to have nor
nfernal. paison in his housej"' he sent for bde
fiend; Ij judge, to performi the, ceremsoty.
The judge came, and the candlidates for the
connubial yoke taken their ptaee before
him, he thus addressed the br*ide i "~ You
swear you will marry this mait" "Yes,
sir," w'as the reply. " And you"~ (to the
bride.groonm) "d 'ar you will mrry this
voman I" "Well, I do," said the groom.
"Then," says the jrdge "I swvear yur
married !* . yur