Newspaper Page Text
a. ~~rewcriaic 3vurnda, arvotdb to dySoul4 Janb Son rn aitst titiics, Caut JLUt ,Lhdri~~i1,(emt~ne 4~iutr
"We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of oug Liberties, and if it must fall, we will Perish amidst the Ruins."
SIUKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDGEFIELD, S. C., SEPTEMBER 22, 1858. * -X'"---"*"'
BY JENNY WOODBINE.
Two straw hats, with ribbon streamers, lying
on the turf-two merry girls sitting at the foot
of an old oak playing with a pet dog, who nest
les first in the lap of one, then the otger. A
young man, not more than nineteen, seated in
front of them, leaning a thoughtful, handsome
brow, on a white well-shaped hand, and pushing
back with the other the rich clusters of light
hair, which would fall about in harum-scarum
A hazy June afternoon-one of those bright,
golden evenings, which insensibly draw one
nearer heaven-stately trees whose green leaves
are made golden by the last rays of the setting
Sun-long blades of grass, fresh, green and lux
uriant, interspersed now and then with white
and crimson pinks, fragile lilies, and slender
purple violets-forming a carpet more gorgeous
ly magnificent than that upon which the feet
of princes rest. A lazy stream at a little dis
tance, whose waters now and then glisten like
molten silver. A calm, blue sky overhead, over
whose peaceful bosom, white fleecy clouds are
You have the picture-a picture which mem
ory has nursed faithfully for many years. One
of those merry girls is myself-the other, my
only friend, Nellie Norton. The handsome boy
is Willie-Willie Clifton-.my brother; the
pride, and wonder of our quiet neighborhood;
the leader in all playful frolics ; the author of
much harmless mischief; the life and joy of all.
Willie was my darling-my one idol-the
sun on whom I discerned no blemish. Many a
time had this " graceless urchin," (as aunt Di
nah called him) escaped punishment because of
my pleading; many atime, by implicating myself,
had I screened him from danger. My love for
him was a wild intense passion, stronger than
any I had ever felt before ; for we were orphans,
our mother having died in our infancy; our
father a cold, stern man, surviving her but a
Willie is just from College, full of fun and
frolic; and shocking Nellie and myself by " hair
breadth 'scapes," and startling ta!es of College
adventure. We laugh at his sallies-we wear
his badge by turns, and tense him unmercifully
about a certain air which he now and then as
sumes-and which is common to most' College
students. And yet we are both proud of his
learning; and look forward to the time (for we
are both ambitious) when he shall be a Gover
nor-possibly a President! Oh! Youth, youth!
The days speed by rapidly; and now there
are only two who ramble together. One ttrays
alone-aye, alone-as she has ever been in life;
and gazes idly at the stars. Willie and Nellie
love each other! I need no Gypsey to assure
me of the fact. I see it in his earnest, thought
- ful gaze; in her timid, downcast glance. Every
night that little brown Cottage under the hill
has visitors; every night that little parlor is
illumined; and I patiently sit at the Piano,
enlivening Nellie's stern father with my gay
songs, making him oblivious to the fact that, on
the piazza, whispered conversations are going
on-and that the handsome College boy is steal
ing away his daughter's heart beneath the pale
light of the moonbeams. How can he, the unsus
pecting father, know that Nellie's white hand,
which lies so temptingly on the banister, is
clasped lovingly in another hand-not her own ?
Now a sad feeling comes over me, and I sing
"Hazel Dell." My voice falters as I repeat,
" All alone my watch I'm keeping,
In the hazel deli;
For my darling Nellie's near me, sleeping
Nellie dear, farewell !"
And Willie cries out from the Piazza, "Not
that, pet ; sing something less sad."
Then I know that he fears that wail from the
broken hear tof another, may one day be his own.
* * * * * * *
We are in the crowded pity-Nellie and I.
Ruffles have been crimped ; laces have been
stretched on; ribbons hitched here, and there;
flounces pressed and re-pressed-for the Com
mencement, which will witness Willie's gradu
ation, is at hand ; and we hav-e come from our
lonely country home, to see him bear off the
laurels he has so nobly won. What a hubbub !
See the students with their huge neck-ties and
pompous bows, flock around the cars, greeting
friend after friend. We feel quite lonely-Nel
lie, and I,-and clasp each others hands tremnu
lously, for we are strangers. But here he comes !
Our Willie-we would know him in a thousand ;
tall, slender, and graceful, but somewhat more
manly than when we saw him last. He sees
us-he smiles-he is with us-we are, oh! so
- And now the day of days is at I and. We
enter the College hall, which is already crowded;
and before we are seated the aisles are literally
choked with chairs. What a buzz anid hum of
conversation-.what a crowd of smiling faces
what a fluttering of fans. Hist ! the Band
strikes up-yes, 'tis "Hazel Dell ;" and that
eager crowd is hushed into silence. Now the
exercises begin. One by one the youthful aspi
rants come forth, some with lengthy details oin
the downfall of Greece, and Rome-that topic
which among school boys will never be ex
hausted-some with long eulogiums on the
* " Empire State;" and seome, less amnbitiou4, with
1'vely speeches brim full of wit, and sarcasm.
Now, all is over but the Valedictory. We glance
- around at that eager-listening crowd. Surely
his heart will fail him. H~e is on the stage
our Willie-a shade whiter than usual, but
c.lm and composed. My own cheeks are burn
ing. I glance at Nellie: she is very, rery pale
~-fearfully so-yet while her forehead, and lips
rLre of a transparent whiteness, a bright red
apot burns on either side of her face. She
beating of her heart! But soon we are lost in
that glowing address; the sentences so touch
ingly beautiful charm us so, that we almost for
get Willie-our Willie !-is the speaker. Ah !
and that vast audience is swayed by that one
voice so full of eloquence, so full of feeling. Not
only the Class, but all are weeping. I feel Nel
lie's tears on my hand, but I am too excited
I cannot weep.
As the thunders of applause die away, and
boquets fall on the stage in a shower, the Band
plays touchingly and mournfully some sweet old
melody-a farewell song!
It is over! Willie has distinguished himself.
His name is on every tongue. Old men grasp
him by the hand, to speak glowingly of his fu
ture prospects; and Willie ismy brother-Nellie's
*. * * * * * *
It is a dreary .Autumn day; the time of the
roses and singing birds is gone! The waterfall,
as it goes tic-tacing over the ruined mill, hath a
desolate sounds; the wind sweeps by on its
weary wing, and wails as though it mourned a
lost spirit; the grass is sere and yellow; the
flowers are dead-not a single violet remains to
tell of the faded Spring time-no wild rose to
mourn the dead summer! Fallin leaves are
scattered over the ground; the weeping willow
rocks to and fro like one in anguish ; the trees,
stripped of their foliage, seem like drear white
tombstones, telling of the dead Season-! And
we too are sad, for Willie leaves us to-day, for
those Western wilds which stretch miles, and
miles away, and becken the adventurer to a
home among them. Poor, and ambitious, he
must carve himself a name-aye, even love must
be laid aside until the call of fame is answered.
Mistaken Willie! The heart which thou leavest
behind thee is worth more than all the applause
a world can give. Heed not the syren voice
which says, Fame and Fortune first-Love next!
Ambitious Willie! How proud he looked,
when he said with flashing eye, "My bride
shall be second to none in the land. I will not
chain your young life down to poverty. You
shall never struggle in'its clutches. Those lit
tle white hands shall not grow coarse and brown
with labor. But when fortune smiles on me,
id fame is mine, I will come back to home,
love, and thee."
Ah! little did he know that brave young
heart which throbbed so near his owl; little
did he know its strength-its endurance. Ile
would have spared her sorrow; even now he was
rampling on her heart strings; crushing out
their life-their joy. Could he not know that
even the hardest hours of poverty when shared
wilh him, were moments of heaven compared to
the torturing hours of absepee? 'Oh! blind
She bore the parting bravely. She would
not let him know that she had wept through
all the restless midnight-; and endured such
maddening horrors as a long life time of Pover
ty's hardest struggles could not inflict. There
at the " trysting place," as we termed it, that
seat beneath the oaks, she severed one of her
curls, and Willie placed it next his heart. It
may be there now!
" And you will wait for me, Nellie ?"
" Yes, until my curls turn gray with age."
We all laughed. Hollow mockery! it was
like sounds of merriment coming from mourners
ver a new made grave ! We sung once more
ur favorite songs-there amid 4hose trees
eneath those skies-by that stream which had
so often been silent witnesses to our moonlight
melodies, and innocent pastime.
"It may be for years-and it may be forever !"
sounded like a prophecy !
An hour more, and the last good-bye had
:ied on our lips ! We were alone-Nellie and
. And the iron steed was bearing our Willie,
away ! away ! away !
* * * * *
Waiting ! Watching ! Hoping !
These three words, full of a world of mean
ing, sum up our lives. The Autumn of nature
-the autumn of the heart ! With every fall
ing leaf a hope gave way !
Those letters-! short ones to me-[I was but
a sister dear, 'tis true, but holding as was right
-selfish heart be still-a second place]-long
ones to Nellie. Tramp, tramp, tramp ! I can
hear the postman now as he goes on his weary
round, careless of the destiny he holds in his
ands, conveying joy to some-desolation to
others ! The post-boy is your only true fate !
On his coming how much of happiniess, or mise
ry depends ! Poets may sing of " Good-bye,"
and "No more ;" but to me the rcry saddest
words in the world are these, " No letter."
Nellie was so nervous and excitable when
our fate drew near. Her joints would tremble ;
her heart beat wildly ; her cheek pale and red
den by turns-Ah! those were moments of
unsupportable agony ! I have known her crouch
down in a corner, closing her ears, and covering
her face with her hands, and waiting for the
coiing step, as though life and death depended
on it. If ho stopped, she would clutch the let
ters eagerly-watch for the familiar hand-wri
ting-and if not these, sink back in apathetic
despair, and sit all day in a sort of stupor. But
if dhe lter came, for a whole week there would
be uninterruped sunshine. And then would
begin again that Weary, Waiting, Watching,
* * *1 * *1
" No letter !" For months-I dare not count
them-only this sound reached our ears. E
I knoto what Solomon meant when lhe said,
"[lope deferred maketh the heart sick." "Dead!"
said the sick heart. " False !" prompted the
In that cottage under the hill, " Willie"
that name of sweetest music-was a forbidden
word ! Nellie's father, cold, and hard, and
stern always, had grown more so with increas
ing years. Ah, why is old age harsh and un
lovely ? It should pass away like a sweet
dream ; like the glorious fading of a bright sum
ier day. Stern old Col. Norton ! His latter
yars were not thus serene and lovely. Every
human emotion-for avarice is inhuman-seem
'ed crushed out of that old iron bosom.
And Nellie must be bartered for gold! Aye,
sold, like the beautiful Eastern women, to the
highest bidder,-and that too in a Christian
"You shall -not wait for a lover, who has long
since forgottep your existence. Where is your
pride that it does not rise in scorn at his base
falsehood? Acton is rich, girl-rich. We
are poor-ho loves you; and his you shall be.
No more nonsense, Miss Helen Norton !"
Oh ! weak Nellie, swayed like a mesmeric
patient by that master will, struggling vainly
for a lost individuality. Destiny (say rather
zceakness) has encircled thee in its meshes.
Thou cans't not escape. Thy fate is upon thee
* * * * *
The bridal eve! cold, calm, and cloudless!
How can the heavens be silent when such deeds
are done? And yet the stars shone as bright
1y as before; the moon rode the heavens tri
umphantly, nor paused to veil her face with a
eloud because a heart was slowly lireaking.
Lovely in her bridal robes-fairer than an
artist's vision-and yet it is the loveliness a
beautiful corpse wears when we shroud it for
the grave! Surely those were funeral lights,
they burned so blue and unearthly. Surely
those maidens, robed in white are pall-bear
ers; that grave, white-haired divine, the
minister who is come to say the last words
over the dead! A wedding! surely such mar
riage was never made in heaven ; and angels
weep at the mockery. A bridegroom tottering
with the weight of years-a bride in the first
flush of youth and beauty. The ties which
bind them, sensuality and' gold. Oh ! unhal
But what strange white face is that, which
rushes in at. the door, and gleams upon usalike
a spectre? What means that maniacal stare ?
Aye, and why does a shriek from those white
lips which have just. vowed to "lore honor, and
obey," echo wildly through that festive room?
Why ? Because Willie is come. Willie, the
victim of careless mail<, come with love and
hope to win what is already-the wife of an
other! The clergyman cannot unsay it. The
innocit victim is sacrificed, and the pardon
i comes-too late!
I remember nothing distinctly. Nellie was
borne fainting to her room; the wondering
crowd was dismissed with vague apologies. And
Willie-my Willie, only mine ,,ow,-learned
from my lips what the-reader already knows.
Hope and Despair! Though separated, ye
are twin-sisters; and where one goes, the other
is sure to follow!
"Farewell, Nellie! God help me, for I am
very miserable !''
That miserably scrawled note-how unlike
hi- usual hand-writing-is all to tell that he has
come, and gone, forever!
This is the end of all those days of weary
watching. Ilopeless Nellie! life stretches away,
away into a dreary future-nay not life, exis-,
tencc; that weary rising, and going down of the
sun; those long, miserable blank days; that
dull throbbing of a heart which irill na, stop,
because you wi.,h it!
Years pass away, and Willie is married. A
fair young bride p.resides in that distant home
of his. IHe makes her happy, for he is piure,
and honorable. But, even when her voice is in
his ear, when her hand clasps his, his heart
who can control it 7--.wanders back to his boy
hood's home ; to that " trysting place" in the
dell; to that little cottage under the hill ; to a
fair young face he may see no more ; to Nellie,
the angel of his boyhood ! The loved of his
And a friend has told her of his marriage,
and whispered, oh, how unwisely, that there
are moments of weakness in which Willie says,
what 'tis crime to own,
" By my own faults I lost the only woman I
ever loved. I love her yet, only her. I shall
love her always."
And she, the unconscious bride, dreams not
of this. IHeaven spare her the knowledge !
Nellie is dead ! A pure white stone points
heavenward whither she has flownm!
My home is in a distant city, but I have come
back to those did haunts again. I seat myself
on this tuoss-covered seat where Willie first
told Nellie of his love. I wander over the
lonesome hills where we three sang together,
Iwaking their echoes with our glad young voices.
One is silent in the grave-one only is left !
Iere hangs the vine, where he gathered gar
lands to deck her forehead-I gather a few of
the flowers, and scatter o'er her grave !
" Hero in moonlight often we have wandered
Neath the silent shade;
Now where leafy branches drooping downward
Darling Nellie's laid."
The stars which witnessed her betrothal,
weep in silence over her grave in yonder lonely
Oh! those old memories. They come back
to me now-and bring me more ghostly spec
tres of the dead past them ever haunted Rich
ard's dreams. Every well known spot brings
back sonic faded hope-every walk some per
ished joy. The autumn winds are sighing over
the desolate valleys, waking the spirits which
slumber in the hill ; and chiming in with that
Idesolateness of feeling which is stealing over
Where are they-the playmates of my youth ?
On earth we three shall meet never more ! The
voices I have heard, greet me no more. TheI
eyes I loved smile for me no longer. The hands|
I have clasped will clasp mine never-never
Willie is a wanderer. Nellie's face has gone
from my sight forever ! And
" All alone may wvatch I'm keeping,
In the hazel dell;
For my darling Nellie's near me, skeping
Nellie dear, farewell !"
From the Greensboro (N. C.) Times.
"TM RS NOTHING TRUE BUT HEAVEN."
By FINLEY JOHNSON.
When in this world or grief and care
The friends we love shall leave us;
And they who have our confidence
Maliciously deceive us:
When from its calm'repose of love,
The human heart is driven;
0, then we feel how true It is
"There's nothing true but heaven."
The rose we gather--in the morn
When it the dew is drinking,
May trampled be beneath the feet
When stars alone are blinking;
i ad when by cold and angry winds
Its leaves from us are driven,
We feel, though earth is bo-autiful
" There's nothing true but heaven."
The maiden whom we fondly love,
With all of lovu's devotion,
May prove as false and treacherous
As waves upon the ocean;
And when the heart with Its cruslh'd hopes,
In vain, In vain hath striven,
It bows before God's throne-and owns
"There's nothing true but heaven"
The trees within the forest's depths,
The grass upon the sod,
The flowers fair-oA which we trace
The fingej of a God;
All things in nature's vast domain
Unto us mortals given,
Goes but to pro-ve the well known truth,
-There's nothing trne but heaven"
Well, let lihim come; but what need of this
flurry ? Beimy's apron is clean; Su.y's dress
was fron the drawer this morning ; why change
them ? they are very neat, and just such as chil
dren need to play in. You do not wish thena
to sit still like sonany dolls while Mrs. Bird
is here. A restraint will be ?nt on them with
those nice dresses; they will neit her move grace
fully, nor play freely, lest they rumple or soil 1
the fine things.
No fanciful fixingO can beautify a child. Its I
beauty is all innate; it cannot be put nit. Every- i
thing about it whicj diverts the eye from itself, i
by so much dimini;hes its loveliness.
A child-why, the words are only a form of
beauty. The word-Aild is 'the synonym of L
b There I put J
away these things-made and kept for show;
now. the children are sweet. We recollect a I
proof of sterling sense, noticed in the f1tnily of
one of the Senators in Congress, from Maine
the children werg drgssled in just the simple
way in which these are dressed. The niter'al
neat, plain, and strong, what they needed to
play in, running about in the air as free as e
lanibs and kittens. They were allowed to be i
chilren-no attempt was made to show themoff
Nay, do iot change your own dress ; it is at
tractive in its tnodest gracefulness. The pretty
figure on the calico is beconmning. Yes, it certain- 3
ly is cotton, and admirably adapted to a tidy
house keeper. No; your friends will not feel
that you are wanting in respect for them if you
receive them in such a dress. It shows that
you receive them as friendy, and wish to place
them at ease. IC
And you will retain ease and self-posse-sioni
in that simple dress, to which you are flcu -
tomed, that would be somewhat modified by
the st ylish one0 maide for state occau.ions.
Your husband will be protnd for his frientds
to see that his wife is agreeable in a commton
gown, and thak she does not depend, for orna
rt, on jewels and the elaborations ofC dress.
A new idea ? and you will try it ? Do. You
will enjoy the society of your visitotrs twice as
well. They will feel less restraint and nmore
ordiality. You will thus, at t be outset, destroy
in them all inclination to criticismt, anti yout
will all be happier.
What is the use of having richt dresses, if one
is not to wear them, when company comes ?
T'ruly, wh'lat is the use? except to benefit theC
tnercant and the mechanic. Nobody loves youtt
tore for your magnificence of apparel. All
these extraneous ornaments are only so many.
things interposed between you and thte hearts
f others. .
The same idea applies to your table. A few 1
ishes simply prepared, are mtore enjoyed thtan
the costly viands which emupty the purse and
make one lament the toil of getting up dinners.
Oly remember-never apologize, as if simpli
ity of food and dress wvas not just what is need
ed-the very best. So you will save igealtht,
spirits, and purse, while promoting sotcial enjoy
ment a hundred fold.--afe lllustrated. .
REVERIE OF A DRUNUARD.
"I think ligntor's injuring me. It's spoiling tny
temperament. Sometimes wet mad whmen I ami
drunk, and abuses Betty anti the Bratts-It usedt
to be Lizzie and the children-that's some time
ago though, when I used to come home, she used
to put her arms around my neck and kiss me, 1
anda call me dear William.C
" When I come home now, she taikes her pipe
out of her mouth, and puts her hair out of her
eyes, and looks at me, an1. says something like, I
" Bill, you drunken brute, shut the door afuer 1
you; we tare cold enongh, having no fire, with
ut lettina' the snow %low in that way."
" Yes, she's Betty anad i'm Bill now-I ain't C
a good bill nuthar-'speek I'tm counterfeit ;
won't pass-a tavern without going in anud get- I
ting a drink. Don't know what batnk I'm on;
last Sunday I was oni the river bank drunk.
" I stay out pretty lati now, sometimes I'mu
ut all night-tact is im out pretty much all
over-out of friends, out of pockets, out at theat
elbows and knees, and always outrageously dir
ty so Bbtty says, but then shte's ntever clean her
" There's one good quality I've got-I won't
get itt debt, I never could do it.-There now,t
ie of my coat. tails is gone got tore oft; I 'spect
whet I fell down~ 'ere, i'll have to get a new
suit soon. A fellow told mec the olther day I'd
make a good sign for a paper mill; if he, wast
so big I'd lick him. Iv'e had this shirt Ott forty
nine days, and I'm afraid it wotn't come off with
out tearing. People ought to respect mue miore I
tian they do for l':n in hioly orders, I ain't no
dandy, though my clothes is nearly all reslan
style. I guess I tore this hole itn my parts bc
hind, the other night when I sat down on a nail
at carpenters shop, I've got to get it mended up,
or I'll catch cold. Lend me three cents, will
you? -Feel awful onesa clear away down in No.
- gg"" Gently the duesar o'er me stealing,"
as the man said when lhe had five bills presented
to himtf at oneo time.
FUN FOR TIlHE HUMORIST.
ZV A London witness having told the
magistrate that he was pennman, was asked in
what part of literature he wielded his pen, and
he replied that he penned sheep in Smithfield
E A few nights ago, Mr. Jones, who had
been out taking hik glass and pipe, on going
bome late, borrowed an umbrella, and when his
wife's tongue was loosened, he sat up in bed,
wmd suddenly spread out the paraplanie.
"What are you going to do with that thing?"
"Why, my dear, I expected a very heavy
storm to-night, and so I came prepared."
In less than two minutes Mrs. Jones was fast
Z A cute Yankee in Kansas sells liquor
in a gun barrel instead of a glass, that he may
tvoid the law, and make it appear beyond dis
pute that he is selling liquor by the barrel.
r You don't reem to know how to take
me," said a vulgar fellow to a gentleman he had
insulted. "Yes I do," said the gentleman,
twisting him by the nose.
E The wife of George Snow, of A rkansas,
gave birth to three children July 26th. That
tiust have been a Snow squall in July.
EV A lady, who was a strict observer of
Atiquette, being unable to go to church one Sun.
Jay, sent her card.
3 "Come, Bob, how much have you
:leared by your speculations ?" said a friend to
is companion. "Cleared !" answered Bob, with
t frown, "why, I've cleared amy pockets."
7 The woman who never interfered with
ler husband's allairs arrived in town the other
lay. She is unmarried yet.
ZK A gentleman havinggiven a grand par
y, his tailor was among the company, and was
Ahus addressed by his l.rdship
"My dear sir, I remember your face, but I
orget yonr name."
The tailor whispered, in a low tone-" I made
The nobleman, taking himn by the hand ex
" Major Breeches, I am happy to see you."
"MIss 1Ers.."-Some years ago there lived
n a neighboring comity. a fatily named W-.
'hey were poor, and lived in a humble cottage,
>ut enjoyed :l the blsing< which niatnrally
irose fromun the toil of their own hanrls. nver
-vying. or dr-eaiigez of tle tr'easu:res of th
-ich, until fortune favored them in the death of'
L relative in 0lrH Virginia, which bronght them
n possession of six or eight negroc4. (in the
arength of the negroc-rs they were ,oing to get,
ey bought a wagon and team, and started the
ioys old Virginny to haul then ar jiggers
mm. Ihey .ooni returnerd, and the family gave
he darkies a hearty reception--so mneh .(o that
bey surrenderedl their beds and chairs to them.
The good oN ladv of the house, whom they
alled Miss Bet-ey, was so delidited at her.
ood fortune, she remained awake during the
irst night after the arrival of them ar niggers.
It short intervals she would 'call out to one of
" Il-a-n-n-n-a-h ! 0, II-a-in n-a-li "
What von want, Miss Betsy ?"
Nothing, I annah I! [ just wanted to hear
ou call ie Miss Betsj !"
A few days after, llannah was waslihng at the
pring, when Miss Betsy would go to tihe door
aid call out
" 0. Ilannah !'
" What you want, Miss Betsy ?
"Nuthin, Hannah! I only wanted to hear
-ou call me Miss Betsy from the spring!
KolwiNG Wto 'ri KTMcr.-The late Colol 1
eClung, of Missislsippi, once got into ai
i tie otice of' the Pirentice loiinse, ;I
rg, with a rowdy, wlhe, to end the mat Ier %% ith
mt further delay. he took tle rowdly hv tiht nap
f the neck," led him to thedoor am kikifd him
to the street. The kickee picked himself til.
valkedl awav, and here thi miatter .ended. Some
reks afterwards .\leCing was ini N-w (Orleanus,
mud wiinii walking up St. Charlres st rue, satw the
ellowv he hadl kicked ont oft ihue l'renitiz-e llinse,
iking a t hirid paruty o, ~ut of a driinkinug saloon.
deClung walked up to his iold aucquaintulaiwe,
mee thme kickee, but now the kicker, and afte
camiing himiu close1ly, said : " iok hierm. my Ii ,e
~llow, are yonu noet the moan i kicked ,iit of the
?rentice House', the ot her dayv ?"- Sfi lv. sof'iv,
oloniel,"' replliedi the rowdy. taking .ukC:nmg byv
he~ armi. "' du au'iiei ion it- l'm the manu-ht.
-hit-you and1 1 knowi w'ho Io kick .~
" On ! Wu~ir A OnoN WAis ThAT!''-TwoI
onntrvimeni, who' bore the aspest of' hiavinug been
iorn a'nd rearied1 in the piney uods, eiitered, on
esterday eveiing, one ut our city chiurcheis.
h'hey wen tu1p ini to the palulery anud took a seat in the
m'ediate vicinuity of the orgait. The organist
omiiened using his skihl oiu it, cuigit to
rat.ie out itS sweet mekcldious soumuis. Our
rieds, ini rapt amaz~uemeint, sat. Their eyeballs
trained to their utmost tenusion, s'emed as if
ley would start in horror from their sockets,
hist every hair oun their heads assnmed amn in
legedent aind perpenidieular position. Thle or
rniist huappeninig to strike a deepj bass note, oiir,
ietds, with feair depicted on their blanuched
outenances, in haste, made ia bee-line for the
oor. As they arrived at the door.r, oneu of them
aid to the other- "Good Lori Sam, u-huI a
ron thadt was !"-Auust3a J)i4jualclh.
Sois.-A Western statesman, ini omne of his
ours in the far West, stopped all night at a
touse where he was put in the same room with
wenty strangers. He was very much annoyed
y the snorimg of two persons. 'The black boy
> the hotel entered the room, when onr narrator
laid to him: " Ben, I will give you five dallars
f you will kill that mant next to me, who snores
o'dreadfully." " Can'~t kill him for five dollars,
ut if moassa will advance on the price, I'll try
hat I can do." By this time the stranger had
ecased his nasal fury. The other waus nowv to be
nuieted. So stepping on him he awoke him and
aid : " My friend-he knew who he was-yof're
alking in your sleep, antd exposing all the se
mrets of the Brandoni Bank-lie was a director
-you had better be careful." Hie was careful,
r he did not go to sleep any morc that night.
No TIME rua SwAretx.-A Indiana nian was
ravelling down the Ohio on a steamer with a
nuare and two-year old colt, when by a suudden
!areen of the boat, all three wer'e tilted ito the
iver. The Ihoosier, as lie rose, pulling ar~ 'low
g above the water, caught hold of the tail of
he colt, not havinig a doubt that the natural ini
tinet of the animal votuld carry himt safo msharo,
'l'he old miare took a " bee line" for the shore,
>t the frightened colt swami lustily down thle
urret, with its ownier still h anging iast. " Let
;o the colt and hang on to the old maure hI" shonted
>ne of his friends. " Phiree, booh !" exclaimed
:he Hoosier, spouting the water from his mouth,
td shaking his head like a Newfoundland dog,
' ts nIlghty tino, . iw' tollinug mno to let go the
'ot but to a maui tamat enn't swim, thais ain't c.
ztly thi time jbr swappin.q haorses."'
THlE DSAcoN'5 WEArNEss.-The uleacon of a
hurch, upon whom a new puastor had been set
:ed, was praising his many goodl qualities to the
leaconi of a neighboring church. He declared,
thuat the minister hiad but onacfault in the world,
and that was a propensity to become a little quar
reme tokn la goC drunk.
GOOD COTTON PICKING.-Mr. W. . Davis,
the experienced and skilful Superintendent of
Dr. James J. O'Bannon's plantation, situated
near the village, has furnished us with a list
of the names of some of the hands on
that place, and the number of pounds each
picked on Thursday last, which we think pret
ty fair picking. Grown hands picked from 230
to 310 lbs., and one girl, a No. 1 hand, picked
370 lbs. Ilands from 12 to 14 years of age,
picked from 140 to 180 lbs., and little boys
from 9'to 10 years of age, picked from 145 to
155 lbs.-Barnwell &nlinel.
A friend who has been rusticating in the
country for a few weeks past, in this county,
informs us that thirty-four hands, on the plan
tation of Mr. B. S. Bibb, on the 7th instant,
picked an average of two hundred and sixty
pounds of cotton to the h&d. Four of the
number picked two thousand and fifty-eight
pounds, to wit: William, five hundred and
forty-nine; Abram, four hundred and seventy.
nine; and Robbin, four hundred and forty
three pounds-no night picking. The boy Wil
liam, the day before, picked five hundred and
Montgomery (Ala.) Mail, Sept. 91k.
A subscriber at Midway, Barbour county,
Ga., sends to the Columbus Sun the following
result of a race at cotton picking in that neigh
borhood, on the 7th inst.
Four hands, two belonging to Dr. Batt Peter
son and two to Caspar Jones, on a wager fur a
Christmas egg-nog, on Tuesday, Sept. 7th, pick
ed from sun rise to sun set, as follows:
Jones' boy, Warren - - 732 lbx.
" girl, Milly - - - 572-1304
Peterson's boy, Green - - 668
" Ike - - 636-1304
Total - - - - 2608
Average of 652 lbs. to the hand, and result,
ing in a tie between the contestants. Several
disinterested gentlemen were present during
the day and the cotton was weighed by two of
PEFAUTES AT 'rt No T.-The New York Jour.
nal of Commerce says that the crop of peaches in
New .lersey and Delaware seeirs to be failing
every year, and that the fruit in that city this
seamu has been very searce. It adds:
It is a singular fact that at no time has the
market been bettcr supplied this year than while
the shipn:euts from the South continued, nor
have prices been lower. Not less remarkable is
the fact that Southern peaches continued in a
sound condition long after other varieties, grown
nearer hotme and plucked much more recently,
became worthless from age. The experience of
the pastsummnier will be likely to greatly stimi
late .hipmenis from the South, in future years.
The whulesale price of ordinary peaches is now
abont $2 50 to $3 per (smaH) basket. Atretail,
tie same fruit is sold at say twenty cents per
quart, or about SI per bushel which only pays a
reasun'dblo profit, risks and troubles considerd.
.orris Vhites. fur preserving, which always
bring high prices, are worth about four dollars'a
THE WomEN DESEaTING THE Moauoxs.-!A
letter to the Jeferson, 31o., Examiner, says that
on the 13 of June, several Mormon traiis passed
Camp Scott, on their way to the States. They
were princill!y composed of women-of Scotch
and English birth. The letter says:
. They were all unanimous in their denuncia
tions of Brigham Young ana his apostles, and
talked of his sisassination by the Mormons who
remained at Camp Scott, a sure event. They
have all (without exception) become disgusted
with Mormouism and renounced it, and expressed
their determination from henceforth to use all
their efforts for the total annihilation of Mormon
isi. They express their desire to return to
their native countries, and would, if they had
the means to do so, in order that they might be
instrumental in saving others from the baneful
intilnence of Mormonism. On their arrival at
Plattsmouth, on the Missouri river. they had cal
culated to cross over to Council Bluffs; but the
had condition of the roads in Iowa changed their
resolve, and they are now dispersing them.selves
in Kansas and Nebraska Terri tories.
A fellow was arrested in Syracuse N. Y., on
Wednesday lat, on a charge of vagrancy when
he unburthiened himself of the following bud
get, the latter part of which contains more
ruth than poetry, and, is applicable to ceses
occurring in many places besides Syracuse:
1 am not a vagrant, your honor ; far from it,
sir. I am a gambler, and obtain my living that
way; do you not remember, sir, the answer
made by the pirate to Alexander, when he
asked by what right he infested the seas ? His
answer was, " by the same right that you con
quered the world," but, said he, " I am called
a robber because I conmmnand one small vessel,
and you a conqueror becauso you command
large fleets andi armies." It is just so with me,
your honor ; I am a gambler in a small way,
.nd you call mc a vagrant. Mr. B--, Mr.
G- and Mr. P--, can buck against a faro
bank, and bet their fifties and their hundreds,
and you let them pass for gentlemen. I have
no more to say. 1 can get no bail. I amn wil
ig to go up.
Tn Lowaa Cu.sss.-Who . are they ? DIe
toiing millions, the laboring men andi woffnen,
the farmer, the mechanic, the artisan, the inven
tor, the producer? Far from it, says the Troy
ludget. These are nature's tiobility-God's fa
vris-the salt otf the earth. No matter wheth
er they are high or low in station, rich or poor
in pelt, conspicuous or humble in position, they
are the 'upper circles' in the order of nature,
whatever the factitious distinctions of society,
fashionable or unfashionable decree. It is not
low, it is the highest duty, privilege, and 'pleus
ur, for -the great man and the whole-sould wo
man to earn what they possess, to work their
way through life, to be the architects of their
own fortunes. Some may rank the classes we
have alluded to as only relatively low, and in
fact, the middle classes. We insist they are ab
solutely the very highest. If there is a class of
human beings on earth who may be properly de
nominated low, it is composed of thenm who spend
without earning, who consdme without produ
cing, who dissipate on the earningrs of their fath
ers or relatives without being or doing anything
in and of themselves.
A WEAL.-A whale was captured a few days
ago near North river, in the Chesapeake bay. Its
mouth when open measured thirteen feet from
the under to the upper part. The tongue was as
large as a commn door and as soft to the foot as
a featherbed. The animal measures forty-three
feet nine inches in length ; twenty seven in 'cir
umference, nine.feet through, and the tail fi
ten feet wide.
AN EXA)MPLE FoR B ovs.-We have a earri
connectedl with this office, who is between th
ages of 13 and 14, who occupies a seat in th'
highest class in our Public Schools, has th
geography of the country at his fingers' en
and who can cipher round a bevy of schoolm
ters. and in two and a half years more, whi
will make him sixteen, he will probably
Cievo and flomer to boot. But in addition
acquiremnents at school, he has three hun
dollars in the Saviigs Bank, drawing five
cent. interest, and is daily adding thereto,.
gathered together by seijing newspapers betw
school hours.-Trentlon True A.,w.g
In view of the approaching State Elections
we would call attention, not only of the Man
agers, but of all interested to the " Amendment
of the fourth section of the first article of the
Constitution of this State, passed the 20th day
of December, A. D. 185G:"
" Be it enacted by the Senate and House of
Representatives, now met and sitting in Gener
nl Asseznbly, and by the authority of the same,
That the amendment of the fourth section of
the first article of the Constitution of this State,
ratified on the 19th day of December, in the
year of our Lord one thou.4and eight hundred
and ten, be altered and amended to read as fol
lows. Every free white man of the age twen
ty one years, (paupers and non-Commissioned
officers and private soldiers of the Army of the
United States, excepted) who hath been a Citi
zen and resident in this State two years previ
ons to the day of election, and who bath a free
hold of fifty acres of land or a town lot, of
which he hath been legally seized and possessed
at least six months befu e such election, or not
having such a freehold or to .vn lot, bath been a
resident in the election district in which he
olfers to give his vote six months before the
said election. shall have a right to vote for a
member or members to serve in either branch
of the [egislature for the Election District in
which he holds such property, or is so resident."
By this it will he seen that in additim to the
Jice yars resident required by the Constitution
of the United States-adopted Citizens must
also reside aco years in the State to qualify
them to vote.-Camden Journal.
From the Sotth Carolinian.
THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY.
The Charleston Mercury, it is known to our
readers, advocates the policy of sustaining the
Democratic party. It does not, however, sus
tain it with high hopes. In a recent article, it
states its reasons for its lack of hope in the Con
tinued success of the party. The following is
the conclusion of its remnaks-we fully approve.
Though disenting from its desponding views.
we think the chances ore in favor of its snccess;
provided the Stom hern winig holas the Northern
up to a strict adhesion to principles, and de
nounces such evasions as Douglas is practicing
"In such a state of things, there is bnt one
hope for any general party worthy of the sup
port and association of the S->uth. The South
imui restore the Constitution, and with it the
D)emocratic party, to life, ly direct po.,itive re
sitance and action on the first grave issue that
arises, or she mst save hlerSelf from a remorse
less Abolition despotism by leaving the Union.
1By an at'-ive coun.-e of resistance, a new issue
will be forced upon the people of the North
the issue of preserving the Union. On this .i
sne, thorongbly raised, the Democratic party
might again arise to power in the North, and
the South succeed in the restoration of the
Constitution to existence, and the enforcement
of its principles to her safety and protection.
But for us to rely submissively on the Demo
cratic party at the North, demoralized and sec
tioitlized, will be certain ruin to the party and
deeply dangerous to the South. Of itself. the
party c:nnot save the South or the Union. The
South must save the party in the Union, or her
self out of it. We are in the tide of mighty
changes, and nothing but the rocks of disuanion
made palpable to the people of the North can,
by possibility, divert the current of events to
the salvation of the D~emocratic party and the
Union. Whether the future will afford the
means of accomplishing this wonder at this late
sage, remains to be seen. The chances are ex
treiely doubtful. Let none blink their eyes
to the truth, or hope against hupe."
T:: F:: NEeMo NelsaNve.-We see it stated
hat there are two ag-ents or commissioners of the
Emperor ofi I avti now travelling in this country
in order to inhdiee the free inegro population of
our country to emiajgrat ti) t hat islanud, :nd a!so
t) urge iU1,1111 tie maerchants of New Yurk and
lIhstoin the adhvantaiges which A merienn coin.
noree*4~ would daerivye ti-nm a line oaf pactku-ts hec
tween Poart andl Prince and those cities. Wiih
thea' irst naimed objeet we symat~ihisae most hear
tilv. We hope, m'ost earneostly, that they will be
eniinen~itly successful in relieving this country of
thaut degradled portion of our population.-TIhe
ree inegroes are an insoile-rable and an abomi
iable unisancee wherever they are allowed to ex
ist. Severatl-States have abuated the whoh>' Kan-.
groo tribe, and we hope others will follow their
exampijle, Pennsylvania, among the rest mnure es
pci-aly. We hope to see the time when thaere'
will be'no negroes in this country b~ut such as
have legal and conlsttutionafl gnardeans to re
stain their inasniferable arrogaince and unbhlush
ing iimpudenice. We go for, the emigrationi sys
temi, aind we are readly to contibute our mite to
the fuirtheranice of the desired object.-Phlila.
Burosis m ~'x.-Birdls are treated very kind
ly th- re. They arc never killed for sport, and lit
tle troughs are scooped out in the tomb-stones,
which priests fill every morninig with fresh wa
ter for their dlrink.-ouring the stay of Comnmo
doe Perry's ships a inumaber of oflicers startedl
oe day tat go gunning. As soon as the Japan
se saw the cruiel murder of their birds, they
wnit tao the Commodore and begged him to put
a stop to such conduct. There was no more bird
shooting in JIapan by Amnericani oflicers after
that ; and when the treaty between the two coun
tries was concludedl, one condition of it was.
that the birds should always be protected. Take
care of the birds. That is what the farmers sa
we must do in this country. Unless we do, goodl
by to the fruit, for the insects will get the upper
h'and of us, and eat it up. Let the birdies live,
and taey will not only cheer us by their beauty.
ad their songs, but destroy the insects anmd pre
serve our fruit.
A clergyman eatechising the youth of his par
ish put the first question in Heidelberg's Cate
chiisnm to a girl:
" What is your only consolation in life or
'The poor girl smiled, and no doubt felt very
queer, bult gave no answer. The priest still in
"Well then,'' said she," if I must tell, it is
the little shoemaker that wears a striped jack
IIor.v LIFE.--The beauty of holy lifei consti
tutes the most eloquenat and effective persnasive
to religion which one human being can address
one to another. We hamve many ways of doiing
good to our fellow men but none so efficacious
as leading a virtuous, upright andi well ordered
if. There is an energy of moral suasons in a
good man's life-, passing the highest efforts of
the orator's genius. The seen, lbut silent beauty
of holiness speaka more eloqueiitly of God, and
duty, than the toiigue of men and angels. Let
parents remember this. The best inheritance
parets can bequeath to a child, is a virtuous ex
aple~l, a legacy of hallowed remembi-ances and
associations. The beauty of holinmess beaming
through the life of a lov'ed relative or frienul, is.
more ehl'etual to strengthen such as do rstand in
virtue's way, and raise up those t~at are bowed,
Lh.- n..em comumand , ntraty and wm.n.