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THE TELEGRAPH, ~ - - n A WEEKLY NEWSPAPER, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORN ING, IN GRASS VALLEY. BY OUVER & MOORE. J. Wing Oliver, j, k. Moors. Main Street, opposite the head of Church Street. TERMS: For one year* in advance, $7,00 For six months, 4,00 For three months, 2,00 •Single copies, ; 25cts. Advertisements at reasonable rates. W. LOUTZEWHEISER, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL ”DRUGGIST Sf APOTHECARY, One door West of Masonic Hall, Main st., Grass 1 alley Grass Valley, September 22, 1853. tf WM. H. LAMB, WATCHMAKER AX» JEWELER, Mill Street, Grass Valley. Mkrch 1, 1854. 24 tf DIBBLE, CARPENTER & SMITH, attorneys at law, Office at Nevada, in Davis’ building, Broad Street, Office at Grass Valley, Mill Street. A. B. DIBBLE, J. S. CARPENTER, C. F. SMITH. Feb. 23—n23—tf T. J. BURGESS, justice of the Peace and Attorney at law, BROOKLYN, (LITTLE YORK TOWNSHIP,) Feb. 16,1854. 22 tf HEYWOOD & BROTHER, Grocers & Provision Dealers, Boston Ravine. Also, Clothing, Boots and Shoes, Miners’ Tools. &c. Goods delivered free of charge. 19 tf GROCERY AND PROVISION STORE. CONSTANTLY on hand a supply suited to the de mands of customers JOSEPH WILDE Boston Ravine, Feb. 9, 1854. 21 tf M. BEAN, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW, Office Up Stairs, at the Golden Gate, Grass Valley. Jan. 19, 1854. 18-tf LAW PARTNERSHIP. «C£L’. TOLER, SlttnrnTtfg mi Cutellnrs at Tam, Office, Mill Grass Valley.*®#. T. M. JOHNS, < JOSIAII CHANDLER. Jan. 1,1854. 17 tf C. ALLEN, M. D. DRUGGIST AND APOTHECARY, Main street, below Mill. 'Aft Crass Valley, Sept. 22, 1853. tf F. CH VLLINOR, M. D., PHYSICIAN,SURGEON & ACCOUCHEUR, Basement Story of the Masonic Hall, Grass Valley. Grass Valley, September 22, 1853- tf DR. SHERIDAN, M. D. ROYAL COLLEGE, DUBLIN, AND ACCOUCHEUR, Has removed his office to his house—near the Gold Hill Mill. Medicinal advice to the poor gratis. November 17—ji9—tf IV. H. DAVIS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, San Francisco. Will give prompt attention to all business entrusted to his care. Oct. 20, 1853—n5—2m. J. M. FOCSE, JUSTICE’S COURT , Mill st., Grass Valley, Sept. 29, 1853. tf CR. EDWARDS & CO., Grocery and • Bakery, Main street, opposite Dornin’s Daguerreotype Rooms, Grass Valley. nov24-tf e. McLaughlin. WHOLESALE & RETAIL MANUFACTURER OF TIN, COPPER & SHEET-IRON WARE ; Dealer in Stoves, miner’s Tools, Si Hardware generally. J9£g“East of “Masonic Hall,” Main Street, Grass Valley. Grass Valley, September 29, 1853—tf. n 2 Book-store and Stationery By FRANCIS CALLER. Located one door west of Masonic Hall, Main Street Grass Valiev. November 3d, —n7 —tf f„ fISUMMS lot printing (fcstablisjjmcitt, Main St., Grass Valley. Having recently received a large and well selected assotment of We are now prepared to execute ALL KINDS OF PRINTING In a Superior Manner. Miners, or Companies of Copartnership, wishing toiifiratei nf Itark can be accommodated at short notice. We shall keep constantly on hand Notes of Exchange, law Blanks, Bill Heads, Deeds, Notes, Checks. Also at short notice we are prepared to strike off CIRCULARS, HAND-BILLS LABELS, POSTERS, And in short, all kinds of Job work will be quickly done, neatly done, and well done, and on the MOST REASONABLE TERMS. GRASS VALLEY TELEGRAPH. ■ % ...■ ■ ‘ : T-’ . : • - * Tuxb—“o I Susannah.” I have been to Californy with my wash- bowl on my knee, • : * * And seen the tallest elephant that mortal ever see, He measures from one tip to top, about a million feet, And from the other tip to top, the critter can’t be beat. 0 1 Californy you are not the land for me, 1 have been and broke the wash bowl I had upon my. knee. He eat the Warrens cargo, on San Diego’s shore, And he eat a man for dinner and then he wanted more, He tried to eotnJiothSE one. *>ivt the fellows coat *oi) flew, And he never stop’d to tell the folks a quarter what he knew. ' Ol California, &c. We jumped from off the Warren ship, and travelled up the river, I caught the fever and the shakes, the shakes mean when you shiver, I shook my teeth from out my head, but then 1 didn’t need ’em, I didn’t have ’em filled with gold, and so I couldn’t feed 'em. O! Californy, &c. I seen a right smart chance of hills, as full as they could hold, Of pecks and pecks of silver, and cords and cords of gold, I filled my wash bowl with it, but a Sidney man from prison, Took the bowl, and shot at me, because the claim was bisen. 0! Californy, &c. The folks in Californy, they drink a dreadful sight, Some times you see a fellow loose, some times you see him tight; A loose one shoots a tight one, and then they write the folks, * That a Grizzly Bear devoured him, a very bare faced hoax. O! Californy, &c. There’s lots of people raises Ned, and lots of music go ing, There’s twenty thousand fiddle men, a touting and a blowing; The Loafers go to hear ’em, they don’t do nothing more, But they are always disappointed, ’cause their hopes are Ore. 0! Calaforny, &c. I’ve scraped some mountains clean my boys, I’ve drained some rivers dry, With my pockets full enough of rocks, the gold dust in my eye; It is not so hard to raise the dust, if a fellow’l only blow, .But blowing is windy business, His the black fisele find it so. O! Californy, &c. I cannot count my gold myself, but a fellow did as knows, It took a heap of figures, I think they all were owes, Them o’s is pretty figures, but then it seems to folow, That when a figure’s circular, it’s so eternal hollow. O! Californy, &c. But here it goes to dig again, I do it with a will, But its going to be dry diggins, in another kind of hill; I take the lumps and wash them well, and in the course of natur, As sure as bricks, I’m bound to find, some gold in ev * eij tatur. Ol Californy, &c. Now I’ll strive to be content, in spite of gold and fris key. And white I raise the tater, the boys may drink the whiskey; Then here’s to Californy, and a luck to all who try, And since we’re safe at home again, why brothers don’t you cry. O! Californy, &c. I have seen the infant sinking down like a stricken flower, to the grave; the strong man fiercely breathing out his soul upon the field of battle, the miserable convict standing upon the scaffold, with a deep curse quiver ing on his lips. I have viewed death in all his forms of darkness and vengeance, with a tearless eye; but I never could look on wo man, young and lovely woman, fading aw r ay from the earth in beautiful and uncomplain ing melancholy, without feeling the very fountains of life turned to tears and dust. Death is always terrible, but when a form of angel beauty is passing off to the silent land of the sleepers, the heart feels that some thing lovely in the universe is ceasing from existence, and broods with a sense of utter desolation over the lonely thoughts that come up like spectres from the grave to haunt our midnight musings. Two years ago I took up my residence for a few weeks in a country village, in the East ern part of New England. Soon after my ar rival I became acquainted with a lovely girl, apparently about seventeen years of age. She was indeed a creature to be worshipped, her brow was garlanded with the young years sweetest flowers, her yellow locks were hang ing beautiful and low upon her bosom, and she moved through the crowd with such a floating and unearthly grace, that the bewil dered gazer almost looked to see her fade in to the air, like the creation of some pleasant dream. She seemed cheerful, and even gay; yet I saw that her gaiety was but the mockery of her feelings. She smiled, but there was some thing in her smiles which told that its mourn ful beauty was but the bright reflection of a tear, and her eyelids at times, closed heavily down, as if struggling to repress the tide of agony that was bursting up from her heart’s f e £ re * urn * She looked as if she could have left the scene of festivity, and gone out be neath the quiet stars, and laid her forehead down upon the fresh, green earth, and poured out her stricken soul gush after gush, till it mingled with the eternal fountain of life and purity. Days and weeks moved on, and that sweet girl gave me her confidence, and I became to her as a brother. She was wasting away (By special request.) The Pllteonian’s Song, ON HIS RETURN FROM CALIFORNIA. The Broken Heart. GRASS" ¥ ALLEY, CALIFORNIA, THURSDAY, MARCH 30, 1854. by disease. The smile upon her lips was fainter,; me purple veins upon her cheeks grew visible, the cadences of her voice became daily mo&| weak and tremulous. On a qwst evening in the depth of June, I wandered’Sat with her a little distance in the open air. 'ft was then that she first told me the tale of Mr passion, and of the blight that had borne nwn like mildew upon her life. Love had brch a portion of her existence; its tendrils had bagn twined around her heart in its earliest yeaife and when they were rent away, they left s«round which flowed till all the springs of heiHteul were blood. “I am passing allay,” said she, “and it should be so. The wipds have gone over my life, and the bright of hope, and .tH sweet blossoms of pasfeion are scattered down and lie withering in the dust, or rotting away upon the chill waters of memory. And yet I cannot go down among the tombs without a tear. It is hard to take leave of the friends who love me, it is very hard to bid farewell to those scenes, with which I have held com munion from childhood, and which, from day to day, have taught the color of my life, and sympathised with its joys and sorrows. That little grove, where I have so often stayed with my buried love, and where, at times, even now, the sweet tones of his voice seem to come stealing around me till the whole air becomes one intense and mournful melody; that pensive star, whice we used to watch in its early rising, and on which my fancy can still picture his form looking down upon me, and beckoning me to his bright home; every flow r er and tree, and rivulet, on which the memory of our early love has set its undying seal, have become dear to me, and I cannot without a sigh, close my eyes upon them for ever.” 1 have lately heard that the beautiful girl of whoni I have spoken, is dead, The close of her life was calm as the falling of a quiet stream, gentle as the sinking of the breeze, that lingers for a time around a bed of with ered roses, and then dies, as ’twere from very sweetness. It cannot be that earth is man’s only abiding place. It cannot be that our life is a buble cast up by the ocean of eternity, to float a moment upon its waves and sink in to darkness and nothingness. Else why is it, that the high and glorious aspirations, which leap like angels from the temple of our hearts, are wandering abroad unsatisfied? Why is it, that the rainbow and the cloud come over us with a beauty that is not of earth and then pass off, and leave us to muse upon their faded loveliness? Why is it, that the stars, which hold their festivals around the midnight throne are set above the grasp of our limited faculties, forever mocking us with their unapproachable glory? and finally, why is it that bright forms of human beauty are presented to our view, and then taken from us, leaving the thousand streams of our affections to flow r back in an Alpine torrent upon our hearts? w'e are born for higher des tiny than that of earth. There is a realm where -4he rainbow never fades, where the stars will be spread out before unlike the is land that slumbers on the ocean, and where the beautiful beings which pass before us like visions, will stay in our presence forever. Bright creature of my dreams, in that realm I shall see thee again. Even now thy lost image is sometimes with me. In the mysteri ous silence of midnight, when the streams are glow ing in the light of the many stars, that image comes floating upon the beams that lin ger around my pillow. [ Waverly Maga zine. A Dark Thread.— A dsy or two ago wo were walking leisurely up Broadway. The sun shone brightly and the scene was worthy of his shining, for it was a brilliant one in deed. Everywhere life—exuberant life. The street, the stores, the hotels, everything thronged, and everything alive. Threading its way through the long lines of gay car riages and thundering matter of fact omnibus es, was a single dark filament. It seemed out of place in such a rich piece of life’s brocade but it was there. Slowly and thoughtfully it was drawn by invisible fingers—a funeral train ; the funeral train of a little child, an atom of humanity, that sparkled like a drop of dew only to be exhaled to heaven; of whom somebody has thought the last twenty-four hours, though perhaps she never told it, “ ’Twas but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall bloom again.” A being, that, little as it was, filled a whole heart, and whose spirited wings, as it depart ed, put out the sun, bright as it was, and it made Broadway a bitter mockery. But un like other memories, that image will not grow old; it is superior to time; and throgh all the years to come, with their clouds and rain a sweet, childish face will smile with the soft radience of some early morning, [jy. Y Tribune. George D. Prentice, of the Louisville Journal, thus closes a touching tribnte to the memory of his late partner, Mr. Thomas H. Shreve, assistant editor of the Journal;— “We, the surviving editor of The Journal feel that the prime of life is scarcely yet gone yet, as we look back upon our long career in this city, we seem to behold, near and far on ly the graves of the prized and lost. All the numerous journeymen and apprentices that were in our employ when we first commenced publishing our paper, are dead; our first partner, our second partner, and our third partner are dead, our first assistant and last assistant are also dead. When these memo nes come over us, we feel like one alone at midnight in the midst of a churchyard with the winds sighing mournfully around him through the broken tombs, and the voices of the ghosts of departed joys sounding dolefullv in his ears. Our prayer to God is that such memories may have a chastening and nurvfi ing and elevating influence upon us and fit us to discharge, better than we have ever vet done, our duties to earth and heaven ” * The Pleasures op Life.— God, who gave us our nature—who has constituted body and minds incapable of continued effort— who has implanted a strong desire for recreation after labor—who has made us for miles much more than tears, and who has endowed both youno and old with a keen susceptibility of enjoyl ment, cannot have intended us for a dull mo notonous life, and cannot frown on pleasures which refresh us for coming toils. “Let Me Die Q,uler./.” let medi * quietly.” Vice “Be still!” The solemn hour of the soul’s departure is at hand; earth is fading from its vision; tune is gliding from its presence! Hopes that cluster around young life, that swell in the heart of nyohood, have fallen from around it tike forfeit leaves, when the frosts of autumn havechffied them into death Ambition, with its hollow promises, and pride with its lofty look, have vanished away. The world with ith its deceitfulness, pleasure, with its gliding temptations, are gone, and alone, in utter destitution of all that time promised, it must stairt on its solitary journey across s vrs: «&»tb! ' “Make no noise!” Let the tumult, of life cease. Let no sound break the soul’s commu nion ere with itself it starts on returnless flight. Trouble it not with the accents of sor row. Let the tear stand still on the cheek of affliction, and let not the wailing of grief break the solemn silence of the death scene. Let it gather the accents that come from within the dark shadows of eternity, saying to it, come home. The whispering of angels are in its ear ; obstruct not their silvery voices by grosser sounds. A far off music comes float .ing to it by the air. ’Tis the sound of the heavenly harps touched by the viewless fin gers—mar not the harmony by the discords of the earth. “Let me die quietly!” The commotion of life.-the struggles of ambition, the strife and warring with human destiny are over. Wealth accumulated must be scattered, honors won must be resigned, and all the triumphs that come within the reach of human achievement be thrown away. The past, rvith its trials, its transgressions, its accumulating responsibili ties, its clinging memories, its vanished hopes, its rendering up to the future, its long ac count disturb not the quiet of that awful reckoning. Speak not of fading memories, of affections whose objects perish in their loveli ness, like the flowers of spring, or wither in slow decay. Talk not of an earthly home where loved ones linger, where a seat will soon be vacant, cherished voice hushed forev er, or of the desolation that will seat itself on the hearth-stone. The soul is at peace with God—let it pass calmly away; the bright tur rets, the tall spires, the lofty domes of the Eternal City, are emerging from the spectral darkness, and the glory of the Most High is dawning around them. The throne is glisten ing in the distance, and the white-robed an gels are beckoning the weary spirit to its ev erlasting home. What is life that it should be clung to longer? What the joys of the world that they should be regretted? What has earth to place before the spirit of a man to tempt its stay, or turn it from its eteral rest! JVaverley. Truths Well Told. —Horace Greely says some good things at times in his quaint way. Read the following, by way of illustration:— ‘‘Wanted! a young man of industry ability and integrity, &c., &c. This meets our eye daily in the column of ‘Wants ’ and it is true as the Pentateuch. Wanted? Of course they are —always want ed. The market can never be overstocked; they will always be called for, and never quo ted ‘dull, or ‘no sale.’ Wanted for tinkers— wanted for workers—in the mart, on the main, in the field and the forest. Tools arc lyiog ing idle for want of a young man; a pen is waiting to be nibbled; a tree to be felled; a plough to be guided, a village to be founded; a school to be instructed. • They talk about staples and great staples. Honest, Indus frious, able young men are the great staple in this world of ours. Young man! you are wanted, but not for a doctor. No, nor for a Lawyer. There are enough of them for this generation, and one or two to ’spare. Don’t study a ‘profession,’ unless it be that of bricklaying or farming, or some other of the manual professions. Don’t mea sure tape if you can help it It’s honorable and honest, and all that, but then you can do better. Of all things don’t rob the women. It’s their prerogative to handle silks and la ces, tape and thread. Put on yonr hat then, like a man, don an apron, and go out doors. Get a good glow on your cheek, the jewelry of toil upon your brow, and a good set of well-developed muscles. We would go, if we could, but then we were young, longer ago than we like to think ; and you know, when one’s old, he cant.” Besides, if you become a Doctor, you’ll have to wait—‘because you are too young,’ say all the women. If you are a Lawyer and likely to rise, they’ll put a weight on your bead a la Swiss, to keep you under, or if you make a good argument, some old opponent, as gray as a rat, will kick it all over, by some taunt or other, because you were not born in the year one. And so it will go, until you grow tired and soured, and wish you had been a tinker, perhaps ‘an immortal’ one, or anything but just what you are. Be a farmer, and your troubles are over, or rather, they don’t begin. You own what you stand on, ‘from the centre of the earth,’ as they they used to say, ‘up to the sky; ’ you are independent all day, and tired, not wea ry at night. The more neighbors you have, and the better farmers they are, the more and the better for you. There’s one thing more, young man. You are wanted. A young woman wants -you. Don’t forget her. No matter if you are poor. Dont wait to be rich. If you do, ten to one if you are Jit to be married at all, to anybody that’s fit to be married. Marry while you are young, and struggle up together, lest in the years to come, something shall advertise ‘Young men wanted,’ and none to be had. The Term ‘Lady.’ —The name Lady is an abbreviation of the Saxon word ‘Leotday,’ which signifies bread giver. The mistress of a manor at the time when affluent families re sided constantly at their country mansions, was accustomed, once a week or oftener, to distribute among the poor a certain quantity of bread. She bestowed the gift with her own hand, and made the hearts of the needy glad by the soft words and gentle actions which accompanied her benevolence. The widow and the orphan ‘rose up and called her blessed;’ the destitute and afflicted recounted her praises; all classes of the poor embalmed her in their affections as the Leaf day, the giv er of bread and dispenser of comforts, a sort of ministering spirit in the world of sorrow. Who is a lady now? The Model Husband.— The model husband loves his wife as well after as before mar riage. Her slightest wish is his law. He never smokes cigars, and abominates the very name of a club. He esteems it the happiest day of his life when Betsy, or whatever her name is, consented to become his, and when ever thatintere; t ng anniversary comes round, he is overpowered by a throng of pleasant memories, which generally result in a present to Betsy aforesaid. He allows his wife to run up bills with im munity. Never hints that she might be a lit tle less extravagant. On the contrary when the milliner’s bills come in, he runs over the numerous items with a thrill of delight, ond pays them with an ecstacy of joy. He never feds jealous if his wife chooses to flirt with Lieut. Poodle, who has “such a magnificent moustache or Major 8., who “dances so di vinely.” He does not discourage his wife’s frequent ing balls and places of amusement. On the contrary, he often volunteers to stay at home and take care of the baby, that she may go. He thinks woman the decided superior of man in every respect, and is a stout advocate of “Woman’s Rights.” He invites all his wife’s relations to come and stop at his house as long as they please, and never suggests, after a visit of two months, that a change of air would be beneficial to their health. IV hen his wife’s mother tells him what ! a treasure he has in “her dear child,” he never thinks of doubting her word. He never grumbles if his shirts are discov ered to be minus a button, or his stockings plus a hole.—He frequently takes the oppor tunity, during hiswifes absence, to gather his children about him and expatiate on the vir tues of their dear mamma, and tells them how much they owe her. If Mary Jane enquires how much she owes her mother aforesaid for pulling her ears, he is very much shocked, and commands her to go to bed directly. Such is the model husband, There are not many such, I am afraid! and those few are as often styled “Henpecked!”— Waverly. Success in Life.— The following, said to have been extracted from one of the address es of the Hon. Geo. S. Hillard, contains more truth than the world is ready to acknowl edge : “Itmnfess that increasing years bring with them an increasing respect for men who do not succeed in life, as those words are com monly used. Heaven has been said to be a place for those who have not succeeded upon earth; and it is surely true that celestial graces do not best thrive and bloom in the hot blaze of worldly prosperity. 11l success sometimes arises from a superabundance of qualities m themselves good from a conscience too sensitive, a taste too fastidious, a self-for getfulness too romantic, a modesty too .retir ing. I will not go so far as to say. with a living poet, that the ‘world knows uotbing of its greatest men,’ but there are forms of great ness, or at least of excellence, which ‘die and make no sign there are martyrs that miss the palm, but not the stake; heroes without the laurel, and conquerors without the tri umph.” ARe al Romance. —A few days since, a girl named Eliza Ann Peacock was detected in male attire in a dry goods store, New York. She brought letters of recommendation to the firm that / employed her, which it seems, she had written herself. She was neatly dressed, her hair was cut short, and she w'as doing well. Her friends lived in Philadelphia, and the cause of deserting then! is the most cu rious part of the history. She was living with adopted parents, who were very fond of her, and she of them, and she had not long since been brought to this country from England. She was of ‘-high” hut illegitimate birth, and without the knowledge of her adopted pa rents, harbored the idea of returning to Eng land, for the purpose of searching for her mother, of whom she had an indistinct recol lection. With a view of accomplishing this purpose, which she knew would be thwarted if the design was known, she secretly left the house of her friends and made her way to N. York, where she intended to earn money to get to England. When discovered, she went back to Philadelphia, seemingly contented. This story winds up in the most approved style of romances. She has recently had a large fortune left her by connections in Eng land. Edward Everett. — We have noticed for some time the gradual formation of opinion all over the nation in regard to this distin guished gentleman. It is something to re fresh us in these degenerate times to know that such a man as Everett is an object of na tional regard. The corruption of party can not have undermined the virtue and intelli gence of the people, when such virtues and such intellectuality as possessed by Mr. Eve rett finds an almost universal devotion. He is “national” in the broadest, fullest, and most republican sense of that terra. He is the friend of the people—the lover of civil and religious liberty—the advocate of peace —the stern opposer of European assumption —the promoter of industry, and the represen tative of a conservative progress, which must command the approbation of all, and has in it the true elements of our national great ness. Public sentiment, like a mighty tide, is set ting in towards him. From the hills of Maine, from the vast interior of the continent—from the sunny South —from the far West—from the Pacific coast, the voice of the nation, which cannot be made inaudible, comes loud in praise and confidence. There are great is sues ahead —great results awaiting the touch of time —new destinies for this young repub lic. Calhoun is gone—Clay and Webster are cone. Everett, the bosom friend of one, Cnd the companion of the others, stands to day the living representative of their varied qualities, beautifully blended in his model character. As a man, patriot and republican, Edward Everett has a hold upon the hearts of his countrymen, which even party animosity cannot destroy. His future is full of signifi cance. We mean more than we say.—[Cot ton Planter. The deposits in the N. Y. Six Penny Savings’ Bank from July 10 to Dec, 31, were $50,100. Politeness. —There is something higher in •politeness than Christian moralists have re cognized In his best form, as a sample, out going, all-pervading spirit, none but the tru ly religious man can show it. For it is the sacrifice of self iir the little habitual matters of life—always the best test of our principles together with a respect, unaffected, for man as for our brother under the same grand dell tiny V * • -*■ * Sheridan wrote “Women govern us; let us try to render them perfect. The morfi they are so much the more we shall be. On the cultivation of the minds of wo men, "depends the wisdom of men.” Napo leon said, “The future destiny of the child is always the work of the mother.” It tS a terrible thought to remember that nothing can be forgotten. I have somewhere read that not an oath is uttered that does not vibrate through all time in the wide-spread ing currents of sound—not a prayer is lisped that its records is not also to be found stamp ed on the laws of nature by the indelible seal of the Almighty’s will, A gentleman praising the generosity of his friend, observed : “He spends his money like water.” “Then of course he liquidates his debt,” rejoined a wag. Women in California.— The Sierra Citizen gives the following beautiful extract from a speech of Col. Robert H. Taylor, the former editor and proprietor of the Marysville Her ald. The gallant Colonel was delivering a lecture in Downieville on the subject of “Wo men in California.” If the extract below is a fair representation of the entire speech, we think that Col, Taylor richly deserves a place among the “constellations.” “Let man battle with the world — let him go forth to right the evils of society, but let his heart and mind be attuned to the work by the gentler influences of woman. Her’s bo the happier task to cheer the domestic fireside with her sunny smiles; to build a holy tem ple of the heart, to whose shrine man may come from the weary cares of the busy world, and find peace ; to rear an alter around which shall cluster all the tenderest sympathies, all the highest and best affections: where the light of her bright eyes may kindle a fire of gladness in the soul, and her sweet voice, sweeping the tremulous heart-chords, make more delicious music than the harmonious whisperings of yEolian harps.” A Big Business.— At the “Bank Exchange” in this city, we are informed that at least twelve hundred people take ‘lunch’ daily.— [ Golden Era. Words! Words! Words!— Long words like long dresses, frequently hide something wrong about the understanding. Pennsylvania.— The Pottsville and Har risburg Railroad was opened on the Ist inst., with the usual ceremonies. Pennsylvania. —The Canal Commissioners have given notice that the water will be let into the main line of the State improvements on the Ist of March, provided the weather permits. Imports of Flour in Boston. — We learn from the Boston Traveller, that the imports of flour into that city from January Ist to February 4th, this year, the imports were 48,- 253 barrels. During the same last year, the imports were 84,859 barrels—showing a di minution this year, of 46,606 barrels. Alabama.— The Governor* has signed the bill loaning $400,000 to the Mobile and Ohio Railroad Company. Pennsylvania Legislature.— The Senate, on the 9th instant, refused by a vote of 17 to 15, to pass resolutions protesting against the Nebraska bill. One million two hundred and thirty thou sand letters passed through the New York post office on the, 21st ult. 11 is said to be the largest number known to have been received in one day. Alabama Legislature. —The Senate has passed the joint resolution proposing a ces sion of West Florida to Alabama. The House has rejected the bill in aid of the Alabama and Tennessee River Railroadj also the bill in aid of the Charleston & Mem phis Railroad. it is stated in a London paper that a pro position will be submitted to Parliament to enroll 20,000 of the Irish militia. Illinois.— During the past year, about a million of State debt has been liquidated, be sides the pro rata dividend of the two-mill tax; and the Governor anticipates that one third of the State debt will be paid during his term of office, and the interest fully paid on the balance. Mississippi Legislature. —Both Houses have passed a bill granting the right of way to the St. Louis Helena and N. Orleans Rail road. It is contemplated by this road to unite Lake Superior with the Gulf. The Boston Traveller says the foreign im ports of that city reached last year to nearly forty-four millions of dollars, an increase of 30 per cent, over the imports of the year pre vious. The exports remain about the same from year to year, generally being from ten to twelve millions per annum. The City.— The community is 'unusually tranquil to-day. The accident calender is blank. Merchants’ sales books for to-day, do. Evening Journal. Agricultural Movements.— The friends of Agriculture in Napa Valley, were to hold a meeting in Napa City on last Saturday, for the purpose of organising a County Society to promote the agricultural interests of that section of Country. S. F. Eve. Journal. NO. 28.