Newspaper Page Text
l/fllfUKras Ctjrmiidr. Published every Saturday morning, at - Mokelumnc Hill Office in the Iron Building, corner of Pleasant and Wash ington streets, BY HAMILTON, A'S EES & CO. TERMS. SubsCriptioss. ( invariably in ad vance,) for one year sl2 00 Six ninths, 6 00 Three months, 3 00 Single copies .. .. Advertising, one square of 10 lines. or less, first insertion 4 00 Each subsequent insertion 2 00 All kinds of Job Work neatly excuted. Capt. J. W. Miller is our authorised Agent for Calaveras County. [From the Louisyillc Journal.] ALONE. . List! my soul —as the night-wind drear. Wails o’er the dead leaves, pale and sere. On the bleak earth strown, Sighing and shuddering, faint and cold, As the cry of the perjure’, doomed and old, It shrieks afar o’er the bligh'.c 1 world, Alone, alone. Look! where the vagrant wild-fire’s light, Flitting afar through the shadowy night, -O’er the grave is thrown; A lurid gloom in the dismal haze. Now light, now lost to the dreamer’s gaze It flames, it fades in the wildered maze. Alone, alone. Hist! from the depths of the haunted well. Rises a signal dread and fell — At the sullen moan, The crumbling walls o’er the water shake. The spotted toad and the slimy snake la their beds of lichen quail and quake, Alone, alone. Far to the verge of the lonely glen. Round the fox’s lair and the ban-wolf’s dei., - Sweeps the wizard tone ; It summons the ghoul from the charnel-bed. Withered, and gibberingmnd demon-fed, To the path of doom—and away he’s sped. Alone, alone. Tu-whit! tu-whoo! ’tis the mousing owl. Keeping his watch by an altar foul, On the Druid-stone; Hid from the prowling vampire brood Deep in the gloom of the mystic wood, He cowers down in the solitude, Alone, alone. Croak ! croak ! ’twas the raven's cry ; ’Mid the boughs of the hemlock, dank and high. His fiend-eye shone — To the night-hag hid in the blasted tree, As lone, as weird, as fierce as he. Came the chant of his mocking prophecy, Alone, alone! Hark! what a stifled, writhing sound Slowly creeps from the murderer’s mound. Like a victim's groan— Too dread to rise on the wind's wide swell. Deep through the dim “ ghoul-haunted” dell Echoes the murmur hoarse and fell, “Alone, alone!” Up ! my soul, from this charnel gloom, That binds thee down in a living tomb With its laden zone— Up! my soul, on the tempest tide Of a dark existence, wild and wide. To doom and destiny proudly ride. Alone! alone! The Slave Trade. —By ine Phoenix screw steam sloop, from the coast of Africa, it is announced that the slave trade was very depressed, no capture having been made for some time past by the African squadron. At some of the previously chief haunts of the trade, such as Paul de Loanda, the slave merchants are little better than bankrupts, from the inability to run •cargoes undetected by our cruisers. Very much of this healthy state of things is also represented to arise from the energetic measures taken at Bra zils, by which it is almost impoissible to land slaves with safety should they reach that uoast. The Phoenix was pm in commission for the coast in July, 1849; she has taken eight slave vessels and three boats, but no slaves on board of them, with the exception of forty slave children found in one boat.— English Paper. A pounds of beef loses one-quarter by boiling and an ounce more by roast ing.—Exchange Paper. It would be economical to eat it raw. Calaveras Cijromdc. MOKELUMNE HILL, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25. ISSI. [For the Calaveras Chronicle ] A Californian In Ur.- States. A SKETCH, BV G. H. C, The returned Californians are, to the people of the States east of the Rocky Mountains, quite an enigma Their man ners, habits, and tastes are quite-their own, and it would be as impossible to put one of them into the leading-strings of fashion as to lasso a grixzlcy bear with a trout-line. ; n i* woaderfitl a. pia.4 jjt ihis country learhs and action, and the tenacity with which he ad heres to this independence when in “ the States” is equally wonderful. A young man who, for the sake of per sonification 1 shall call Tom, was a fellow passenger of mine around Cape Horn, in the year 1849. Tom was a delicate little fellow, the only son of a millionaire, and had been brought up to luxury and ease. He was high spirited, however, and as he had left home much against his father’s wishes, had determined to act for himself* and pursue adventure in California in his own way. We often met each other in the mines, and more than once both of us have dined together on the recollection of|:the last meal, and supped on hope. Tom ower flinched from danger or hardship—uttvt-r comp’ained; and though he Could al any time have filled his pockets with gold, by making himself known at a banking-'nj.use in San Francisco, where hi* father had stnt for his use an unlimited letter of credit, he scorned assistance from any quarter. Perseverance will succeed; and Tom per severed until by his industry Ire hrd accu mulated a handsome sum. About a year ago, he rode into my camp, and said be came to bid me "‘good-bye”—he was going to “the States”—lie had earned enough to satisfy his father and acquaintances that he could take care of himself; and as he had an ample fortune at home, he had no funher \ v/f vnr QWfc —a— I ate and drank together, shook hands, and parted, not without some melancholy feel ings on the part of both, for this sleeping under the same blanket and sharing the last biscuit is a strong cement to friendship. While spending a few months in one of the eastern cities last summer, it chanced that on a certain day la** diaing with some friends at a hotel, when a servant handed me a card. It was a thin card en ameled on both sides, such an one as can only be procured in Paris, and on it was delicately and tastefully engraved the name of my friend Tom. I immediately left the table, and at the door met him. What a change had taken place in his appearance ! Instead of the red shirt and corduroys, his usual dress in California, fine and v- rv white linen appeared above the collar of his vest, and extended beyond bis coat sleeves. Ills pantaloons and coat were oi the finest material, and altogether his dress was exactly what a person of good taste and plenty of means would be likely to se lect. He extended towards me a soft and delicate hand, for it had left the acquaint ance of pick and spade. A few words pass ed between us and I accompanied him to the door. As we stepped upon the side walk, a richly dressed servant letdown the steps of an elegant carriage, and held the door for his master with the airs of a man who had been well trained to serve in his place. I knew Tom was no fop, and that he was as regardless as possible of what is called gentility : therefore, seeing so much exactness in everything about him, I ven tured to enquire why he lived in that man ner 1 “ Why,” replied Tom, “ when I was in the mountains, did I ever flinch or fall back from hardship or fatigue ?” I an swered, very decidedly, “No.” “Well,” he continued,” I was happy then, enjoyed myself finely, and would like very much to be back there again, but my father in sists that I stay at home. I enjoy only one luxury, and that is the envy of my neighbors. I am living as I do to make them envious; I succeed, and that pleases me. Just to live along in quiet respecta bility will never do for a Californian here in the States. I wish to go back, but as that is out of the question, I am bound to live a little better and a little faster than any other man in town. Good evening; I shall see you again ; but don’t forget the old saying, “ there’s no use in being a fel low unless you are a h—ll of a fellow.” y A man in Wisconsin recently dug in to his wife’s grave to obtain a gold ring, which he supposed was on her linger, to get the means of buying whiskey. Life in *lft**ißSippl. GETTING A RAILROAD SUBSCRIPTION. Having seen nobody for thirty miles, night overtook me at the centre of Jones’ county. ‘The road Was only visible by the three “scores” on the trees, the grass growing on it rarik and tali like that in the adjacent wood. I was stri king for the court house. I passed near a small opening in which stood three rickety cabins, but they were untenant ed. The road branched off into a doz en trails. Completely pulled, I threw down the reins left the matter (<• the -ipatiact of my Ahorse. Hd stfnek into minute* halted at a large farm houle?^ “Halloo?” cried 1,, . “ It’s halloo yourself,” said the man in the gallery. “.How far to the court house?” “Where are you trom?” said the man. - . . ' “ From Winchester.” “ Then,” said he, the court house is behind, and you have come right by it theie.” pointing to the deserted cabins. “ Why, I saw nobody there.” “ I reckon you didn’t;” said he. “ There’s a doggery and a tavern twice a year, two days at a time, but they come with the court and go with the court.” “ And the clerk and sheriff,” said I, “ where do they live!” “Oh, the sheriff is clerk, and the clerk is squire, assessor, and tax col lector in the bargain, and he lives away down (Mi the Leaf.” “ But the lots, my friend—who owns the lots ?” “ The same individual that owns the best part of Jones county —the only landlord who never sues for rent—Un cle Sam.” “ Well, sir, I am dred and hungry— can I stop with you to-night!” “ Light, stranger, light, Michael An derson never shuts his door on man or beast.” Haring carefully, housed and fed my hocse, I soon sat down to a substantial supper of fried chickens and stewed venison, corn cA. fe«*»each cobbler, 1..11k , y«> ~ » a a welcome arm a: /nance peculiar to the pine woods. .My host was a shrewd man, well to do in the world, preferring Jones county to any place this side of Paradise, having lived there twenty years without administering a dose of medicine, and had never been crossed but once during all that time. I was curious to know what had disturbed the serenity of such a life as his. “ Why, sir,” said lie, “ 1 don’t make a practice of talking about it, but be ing as you’re a stranger, and I’ve taken a liking to you, I will narrate the cir cumstance. May be you’ve heard how the legislature chartered the Brandon bank to build a railway through the pine v.oods away down the sea shore. In these parts we go against banks, but rail-roads sort of shuck our prejudices. Before the bank could be set agoing the law required so much of the coin to be planked up. The man igers all lived about Brandon, but the metal was mighty scarce, and the folks about there didn’t have it or they wouldn’t trust ’em. “They strung what little they had around the babies’ necks, to cut teeth with. Well, it got wind that I had some of the genuine, mid ihe managerj kept sending to me for it, offering to put me in the board, but I always an swered that my money was safer in the old woman’s stockings than in the bank. I heard nothing more about it for three months, when one night a big, likely looking man rode up, and asked me for a chunck of fire.” Well,’ says he, ‘this is unlucky. The road will come right through your new smoke house; what’s to he done ?’ ‘You shall see,” said I; so calling my boys, I ordered them to tear it down. “ Stranger, there lay the-logs. the pret tiest timber within fifty miles, all hew ed by my own hand. 1 have never had the heart to put them up again. Well,; the big man never changed counten ance. He ran on with his line, and the next day he came back on his return to Brandon. I was mighty lifted with the notion of the railroad and a stop ping place right before my door. 1 entered sixdiuudred and forty acres of land. My neighbors said we’d get the state house here. The big man smiled and nodded, he pointed out where the cars would slop, and where the Gover nor would like to have a summer seat —and when he went, he carried away three thousand dollars for me, all in two bit pieces and picayunes.” “Well, squire,” said 1, “ I suppose you got the value of it?” “ Stranger,” solemnly replied the squire, “ I never saw the big man af terwards; I heard no more of the road. Here’s my smoke house logs. My old woman’s got the empty stockings. Here’s what they sent me (a certificate on the Brandon Bank stock) for the money, and if you’ve got a ten-dollar mint drop in your purse, I’m ready for a swap!” The History of a Press. —The Sonora Herald of Saturday last, in no ticing the commencement of new paper in that section of country, re marks t “ The Columbia Star will make its first appearance with one strong recom mendation in its favor, namely, that it will be printed on our old Kamage press—the/noneer of California presses. In what year this press was built, or how it was used prior to its embarka tion from New Twrk, tradition doth not inform us; but its career of ewitgretMe fry .” jytn New \ ork to Texas. i henCe Mexico; thence to Monterey in. Cali fornia, where It was used by the'Gtiv* ernors for printing proclamations and other public documents. Thence it removed to San Francisco, for the in troduction of her first newspaper—we forget its name-*-the one, however, which has grown into the Alta Califor nia. Anxious to disseminate further light, it afterwards moved to Sacrar mento, and, lo! the Placer Times be gan to be scattered among a reading people. Its missionary work being per formed in that city, it planted its next station at Stockton, and gave us the Times, the first paper published in the San Joaquin district. About the Ist of July, 1850, the Sonora Herald ap peared, proud to hail from the same old press, that htid never yet been broken. • On that and no other we have continued to.print, until a few weeks since, when it surrendered its pb\ce to a large Washington press. Still a mis sionary, it goes to Columbia, and the Star will be the fifth journal, in this State, that has been started by it. The others are all in a flourishing condition, and we hope the Columbia Star will succeed in like manner.” The Alta California in alluding to this “ good old press,” has the following remarks : “ The old press alluded to above is indeed an interesting relic of the ‘ Art afltt we trust the proprietors of the Colum bia Star will deal gently with its aged timbers, in consideration of the good which it has done. That press should l»e preserved to the State as one of the most effective engines, and at the same time, the most interesting remembran cers of old times that the country pos sesses. It printed the first Spanish “ p ton unci a men to” in the country and also th«* first English newspaper here. Though its “build” be ancient and its woi ks much worn, we dearly prize the old press, and might exclaim, in para phrase of the poet: Printer spare that press ; Pray let its limbers stand, A type of the success Of papers in the land. The press known as Frederick Doug lass’s paper has been long fomenting the fugitive slaves, and the colored peo pie generally, to arm themselves and resist any attempt to take them back into slavery. In one of these publica tions occurs the following insolent lan luage : “ This work to he done successfully, must he done instantly; there must be no parley ing. As soon as a man knows there is a warrant out for him, he should place himself within his castle, and pe rish in his own defence, if need be. In these troublous times, no colored per son should be without arms in his house, if not upon his person. The having of weapons is of some consequence, and will inspire the disposition to use them when the time comes. A law that can not be executed but by exposing the officers authorized to execute it to dead ly peril cannot long stand.” The outrage in Lancaster county is the first fruit of such villainous advice, not only from this insolent varlet, hut from the abolition fanatics, who at their meetings heap maledictions upon the name of Washington and trample un der foot the constitution of the United States. It is to be hoped the people of Lancaster county will extirpate from amongst them every trace of this fanat icism, and prove by the punishment of the murderers, that they are zealous in defense of thyt law on the proper en forcement of which hinges the safety of the Union. The above, from the S. F. Herald, expresses our views, and we hope those of the •' hole community in which we live. Secession and abolitionism we long to hear of only as “among the things that were.” Forty-five pounds of salt are con tained in one hundred pounds of the water of the Dead Sea. Focxp—A patch from the Seat of Government. NUMBER 2. ENtK.iL Lopez.—The following a 'Count of the last momenta of this unfortunate patriot will be read with interest; At the fatal hour General Lope* wns wrought out, and ascended the platform vith a firm step. His person was en ♦dopetl in a white shroud. The exe itioner then removed the shroud, and 'iere stood the General in his full mili try iroform before the assembled miltitude. * * viis .appearance was calm, dignified, L liKon*. Not. a unis le quivered, le looked Upopthe prepare boos for unnmvetl; : hiscountenati6etjhatty fcaiii iiii ijmi firm a*dmt*l*. , ; . , now removed his nbr.odered ctfat aifd* cravat, and all ie insignia of his military rank in token of disgrace. * « General Gupez, with his hands tight- , ly bound together in front, stepped for ward, and, in a strong, clear vohre, -lowly spoke to those around as fol low*-: • “ I pray the persona who have com promised me to pardon me aa I par- ' don them. .-y death will not change the des nies of Cuba.” [The exe< utiouer, ■ aiding a little behind, here i len nnr ed him in aii insulting tone, with Come, be qtitelfpbe quick. I *] Gen. Lopez, torfling his head partly around, fixed his eye on the fellow, and said sternly, grating bis teeth, “ Wait, sir. ,# He then continued: “ Adieu, my belhved Cuba! Adieu, my brethren I?* t. .. , The General then stepped back* seated himself on the stool. A priest with the crucifix and taper stood on one side of him, the exeeutiotref on the other. The collar wag then placed around the prisoner’s neck. The priest now placed the crucifix between the General’s hands, and just as he was in the act of inclining his bead to kiss it, the executioner swung the fatal, screw, and the head of rbe unfortu nate man m iost*nA-rrd 1 ucver moved again. There sat the body of one of the bravest men that ever drew breath, but a moment ago alive, now a ghastly corpse* The execution was conducted in the most orderly manner, and in perfect silence. No shouting or any other ex hibition of applause was manifest. Immediately after the execution, Ge neral Lopez’s body was taken down and privately buried. The New York Evening Post thus speaks of the brave, self-sacrificing, and devoted leader, who with bis patriotic band have yielded up their lives to the tyrant minions of Spanish despotism: It wilt be the fashion of the press, now grown wise by the events which have passed, to denounce Lopez as worthy of the fate which has befallen him. The world is apt to make a dis tinction between a rebellion and a re volution to depend upon tbe success of th : revolters, who In the one case are recorded in history as traitors, in the other as patriots. Lopez will probably be known, therefore, at least so long as the Spanish rule prevails in Cuba,' as a rebel and a traitor. In sueb in justice towards this braire and high spirited man, we will not be implicated. Lopez was no hireling, no military ad venturer in quest of employment and plunder, regardless of the rights of hie fellows. He was engaged in the deli verance of his own country froth tbe most tyrannical and oppressive govern ment that now exists—so far as wh know on the face of the earth. He died, as he lived, like ivbero and a gentleman. "Whether the cause of liberty in his unhappy island died w ith him. remains to be seen. The blood ot the patriot is tbe seed of freedom, and we feel that we should dishonor our ancestors and the country whose independence their heroism achieved, if we did not deeply sympathize with the Creoles of (Juba in the death of Lopez, their champion and martyr, and if we did not continue to hope that from his grave would rise, at no dig* taut day, the Washington by whom the cause of Ireedotu in Cuba may bo conducted to a more auspicious issue. The “ FiLUBrsTERs,”— TMfr term is not generally understood, but the New Oi leans paper, which gives the definition, says, “it was familiarly used in the French and other languag es as descriptive of a class of advent turers of all nations, who during the last half of the seventeenth century, infested the West India Islands aml tbft. coast of Central A merica, for the-pur pose of piracy, and who were in Eng*. lisb more counnonly termed Bucca neers. The. term was derived from the Spanish name of a light-boat, a vessel then in common use in the West Indies.