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WAtttlK* HA Kit* R tlltor null PwhlUhir. YOL. 1. MARIPOSA PROFESSIONAL CARDS. 8. A. MKKHITT Aft**. HKKKINO. MKtiHiTT k Deenm ATTOU N E Y a A T I* AW . Office ou Main street, between Fourth ami Fifth, MAKIPOHA. altf ALEX. PEERING, NOTARY PUBLIC. Henry G. Worthington, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW. ORei In FTMW owl’s Adobe Mouse, corner Main and Fifth st*. wM MARIPOSA. H. H. DA LY , COUNSELLOR AT LAWi JHSTRICT ATTORNEY AXI) NOTARY IM’RLTC; >ll A R / P () S A . Office in the Court House Building. B. AIIHOX H. M. .VIN KIM. AIJSON &. HARRIS, ATTOUNEYS AT LAW, MifAIPOSiI. Omen on Main, bktwken Fourth ano Fifth Sts. aMf DR. W. S. KAVANAUOH. OFFICE —ON MAIN STREET, (NTUBITE UK. lIUHBHJ/S DAGUEtIREAN GALLERY, MARIINIHA. al If J . S . WATTS , JUSTICE OF THE PEACE FOR TOWNSHIP No. 3. Office on Mum street, two doom below the Pont Office, MARIPOSA. altf m ALFRED F. WASHBURN, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE FOK TOWNSHIP Ho. 3, 01 HUE IN MARIPOSA- altl Dr. Al. J. Lasotor, I’HTSICIAN AND SURGEON, LOWES AQUA FKIO. optical. first noon bei/iw winmrar? Horn. DR. To. WTUt HF.VOTE HIS ASSfIM'UCS AT tention to the examination and treatment «»f wuh and digirders may lie brought to hi* notice. Pergonal attendance will I* given in any part of the t-mmty, on abort notice, when re*|iiiivd. A new stock of Medicine*. pure ami fitsali, ju*l rc ceired. Agon Frlu, July H, IKifl. altf DR. JAMES L. CLARKE. OFFICE— PINE TREK HOI K CORNER FIFTH ANU MAIN STREETS, MARIPOSA. altf J. B. I SBA I L, DENTIST, MAIN STREET, MAIliroSI, INURHERI.V l>K rIIM.AUK! I'lllA, (ITNN.) IS I'HIMA * nently located in Mari|*»*a. having a comfortable and convenient Office, next d«K»r to the Pacific Express, with nil the uccessarv Instrument* and appliance*. Will do any kind of work'that pertain* to the profession of Dentistry, in a manner which shall gi\e entire nntiafaction. or the money refunded. Artificial Teeth in*ertcd on fioM Hat* or on Pivot, a* the ca*e may require. Teelh Hugged with pure fluid, or extracted, Children’* Teeth regulated when neces sary, and all Diseases of the (Sums treated, the ino*t of which are called scurry of the gum*. Cure, or no pay. Chloroform administered, if desired. Term* reamnahlw. Examination free. altf R. B . THOMAS, ARCHITECT AND CARPENTER, Will furnish Designs for Building*, Specification*. Hills of Lumber, Estimate of Cost, el*-., and undertake Buildings on moderate terms. All work entrusted to him will lie executed with neatness and despatch. Stop on Bullion street, near Concert Hall. Jyfltf Dr. 11. •!. Paine, DENTIST, LATE OK THE FIRM OF PAINE A BEERS, DENTISTS, NAN FRANCISCO, I* now permanently located at H O n J%* I T .1 s , WHERE HE Wild. HE HAPPY To ATTEND TOCALI.S in hi* profession. Having, during an extensive prac lice «»f seventeen year*, made many improvement* in the IN-ntal Art, ao>l assisted materially in hringing it toiU pre* ent high Mate of perfection. he feel* warranted in saving |o alt iko««‘ wishing Dental o|ie ration* |*t .Mined, or Artificial Teeth inserted, on Hue gold plate, that hi* work cannot he excelled in the l ulled State*. Term* mmlerate. Wunsulla tion* fnt*. N. li— Ur. P. will make, occasionally. profe**iouai visits ko the neighboring Town*, a lien he will attend |arsons at Ikevr residences. ii|miii application, either by letter or other wise. altf X---S5 : - - —.— ,sc.-.s_ dk. tiiomas riYirs. MGr-Omrt—At Dr. A. I). Ikiyce’s I Vug Store, opjsjslte the Yoscniite Hotel, —where he may he consulted at all hours. altf li. 11. Hall, ATTORNEY AT LAW, \U:m>!II KAI.I.S, MKR('KII CtKJNTV. nllf JOHN A. LIN T, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, No. 4'i Montgomery Block, Montgomery street, al if Sax Fa a x cisco. K. R. (’AK I’KNTIKU, COUNSELLOR AT LAW AND NOTARY PUBLIC, Op; ner Merchant and Montgomery slreeta, altf Sax Fkaxcisco. ■ TIN-SHOP .... AND . . . . BTOVE-1> E P O T , Hart door to Phillip* * Hotel % Mnrijtota. milK UNDERSIGNED. GRATEFUL FOR PAST PATRON 1. age, announce* to the Public that he continue, to offer (or Nile a large aasorlment of l ARlHll AND COOKING STOVES . TI.VIVAHE AND HARDWARE CaKPKNTENHS- AND MINERS' TnoL« • CAMPHKNK and *MI. I.A MI'S LEAJJ IJ PE AND PI 1W Hheet Iron, Copper. T«o and Zinc worked fo order Ail work done to order promptly and satisfactorily trgr f rom henceforth I adopt the t’a-sh principle CASH ON DELIVERY (altf; S. WOKMSER MARIPOSA, CALIFORNIA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 8, 1857. Pariposa democrat. I'L'BI.IBDF.D KVKKY WKDNIBDAY MORNING, BY WARREN BAER, KDITOH AND PUBLISUKK. TERMS: Per snnmn, in advance WOO For «ix month*, in advance .3 00 Single coplea * • • • Advertisement* inserted at the lowest rate*. K.very deseription of Plain and Fancy J«b Printing neatly ami promptly executed. a a ENTa. THOMAS IM»Y< K. north east corner Washington ami Montgomery street*. San Francisco. I* our «luly authorised agent to receive subscriptions amt advmtiaenu-uta. T M HKSTON', Fxpress Rider between this place ami Kern River is duly authorised to T veivr subscription*, ad vertisements ami job Work. POETRY. The Abnintoned Wife's Appeal. ••T» U him 1 love him yet. a* In tluit joyous lime. Tell him I ne’er forget* though memory now be crime ” Pit Aim. Tell him I love him yet! Oh. rouhl he know My lone heart !* grief, ami nil it* struggling woe— ' Could he i»nt set* my dimmed and tearful eye Could he hut hear the pent and struggling sigh, , Still heaved for him in seeret—Could he trace i The line* that grief has graven on my fare Tell him that nought of friendship now hath fiower \ From thoughts of him V» w hile one weary hour. I Tell liirn I love him yet! More, let him read I The wen tof my heart. Here*, let him read | Us writhing torture ; all its frenzied dearth | Of hope. Tell him, without him earth I/Mika darkly drear. Mvthouglit till life’s last hour I never would confess the magic imwcr, | With whieh lie yet away* with his wonted art, 1 My fondly faithful, though my broken heart. Tell him 1 love him still! though he knows not, And thinks perchance that he, too, is forgot; Tell him my heart is broke—eac h feeling there Pike to the music of some broken lyre. When the cold blast ls*ats m lely on Its strings, (The medium tones all gone.) the strain that flings Its mournful caduoct now my heart strings o'er, i Is but the echo of a love that dreams uo more. ' And yet I love him !as when love’s llrst !-••»••• | I.it 111. .villi llO|K .....I i 1 y,.« i«r«- mm still with fervor pure and Htr*»n". Still would Is lieve him true forget my wrong ; Still at his name th’ unbidden t«n»r drop* sUii. I And still the inward promptings of my heart; Would haste to meet him, at ! its love reveal. Co. tell him all, and ask him Can he fuel? Tell him my heart is crushed its spell Is o’er. Tell him it honU for I dm,—sir throbs no more. IIKR'S MTORV. (WHITTEN FOR TUI. I’KMOCKAT.] A cheerful Are was blueing in the wide chiumey place in a log cabin on the banks of the Tuba, ami a merry laugh was bidding us a gleeful welcome when we entered the rickety door. Some three or four hardy miners were waled on benches or stools around the hearth, indulging in the quiet case which a miner’s camp affords, and making merry by relating the causes which induced each individual to leave his native homo on the Atlantic coast Being all personally known to us, we felt an interest in every narration that was delivered by each narrator in his turn, but when it came to Ben F *s set, wc were strangely moved by curiosity, for he was certainly bred a gen tleman, and was distinguished by the ease and elegance of his manners, which forcibly con trasted in his favor with those of bis less for tunate companions. The tobacco in the pipes wen? renewed, the fire supplied with fuel, when Ben thus began bis narrative : “ You will perceive,” said he, “from my brown skin and black hair and eyes, that I am a Southerner. Being an only son I was reared with great care, and when 1 left college I was considered a young gentleman of great prom ise, and was educated to the law in which 1 soon became proficient. Possessing much ambition and great vanity, 1 soon eclipsed all my old college-mates in their legal efforts, and was fast acquiring a position envied by all the younger aspirants for literary fame, when by mishap I became strangely infatuated with a young lady of great beauty and rare accom plishments. Deserting the musty volumes of (Joke and Blackstone, I took to novel reading, and soon was paying my supplications at the altar of Venus. Being respectably connected, with a fortune in perspective, I had no diffi culty in urging my suit to completion, which gave great satisfaction to the old folks of both parties. “ That 1 was wild and reckless I will not deny, hut there was nothing vicious in my pro pensities, and my excesses in sociability were viewed with little alarm by my intended mo ther-in-law. All was elegant ami costly in my father’s mansion, and having a charming and captivating sister of some seventeen summers old, it afforded me every opportunity of famil iarising myself with the forms and graces of fashionable society. During the summer and full months it Is usual for the residents of the large Southern cities to visit the watering pla ces along iho sea coast, but the city of New Orleans being located near the Lake Ponehar train, most of its citizens seek recreation on the borders of the Lake at different watering places along the shore, or visit their country seats in the pine woods, which are rendered comfortable by a largo expenditure of money in contrivances to ward off the summer heat. “ Well,” continued Ben, after he had thrown more wood upon flu* fire, “To avoid Yellow Jack that had already begun to slay some of the oldest residents, I left the city of New Or learns intending to pass the season at my father's country seat in the pine w’oods. Here I spent the first two weeks of my sojourn in delightful intercourse with many agreeable la dies, among the number of whom Mvas my adored Eleanor. Her parents were very strict in the performance of all religious duties, and her own character had been formed in the most rigid course of the yioral and religious "THE UNION AND ITS OOVENNimENT." code of laws. All went happily along until one day news was brought us of the illness of a dear friend some forty miles up the country, and it was decided that it was too dangerous to pass through the city while the fever was raging; therefore I was ordered to mount my hunting pony, and accompanied by a faithful darkey named Abraham, on a fine sorrel pacer, away wc started for the residence of my sick friend. Abraham was tall, well made, and vast ly devoted to every member of my father’s household. He was Instructed, 44 Now mind, Abe, you take the greatest care of Master Ben, and above all things else prevent him from in dulging in excesses.” Off we started, with a full suit of black, to he used in case of mourn ing should circumstances require, and the fol lowing noon, after a tiresome ride, wc found ourselves at the dwelling of my friend, who had so far recovered from his illness as to ex tend to us the generous hospitalities of his home in person. Though wc were in a great hurry to reach the plantation of my friend, yet wo by no means manifested any anxiety to return to my father’s residence. Most of the time during the month I remained with my friend 1 was entertained with halls and dinner parlies. Occasionally we tried our luck at trout fishing in the ponds of neighboring plan tations, or then wc 4 tally bo’d the hounds, sirs.’ Woodcock shooting was a favorite sport with my friend, but so entirely wai my time occupied with picnics and promenades with the ladies, that 1 found few leisure mo ment to join him in anything else than that of relishing at breakfast the result of his sporting labors. The fine suit of fashionable blue cloth that had covered my elastic form on starting on the journey, was completely worn out when wc began out return home, so that I was com pelled to retort to the black coat and pants, ami as I always wore a white cambric neck tie, I looked very much like an itinerant preach er. The morning on which we mounted on our return trip was beautifully fair, and ‘tin air was sweetly perfumed with the scent of the magnolia flowers. A brisk trot of some fifteen miles sharpened our appetite for din ner. Abraham, though temperate at home, was not particular abroad, and after a mutual promise of absolute silence on all that occurcd in the way of dissipation, wo resolved to try the quality of every man's whisky on tin road. 44 The host who had kindly furnished us with an excellent dinner at the first tavern where we stopped on the road, was not insensible to tin- charms of John Barleycorn, so that when wc were again astride of our horses it was evi dent that if the brutes felt their oats, we were also strangely moved by the ‘critter* A slashing gallop of an hour brought us in sight of a large white farm house near the roed, surrounded by a panel fence, to which was tied a number of horses with saddles vacant, while hero arid there amid the husliea and trees were sundry vehicles, watched by dark ies, and without occupants. As wc neared the house, Abraham discovered that the )>ony had lost a shoe, and ns there was a blacksmith shop exactly opposite the fence, he insisted that 1 should go up to the court house— for such we took it to be —in which wc supposed an im portant trial was being had. Dismounting and handing the reins to my faithful companion, 1 approached the door with hasty steps, and then entered with ■ steady step. I soon per ceived that it was a meeting-house, densely crowded with the belles and beaux of the vi cinity, and that I was an object of general ob servation and attraction. All was ns silent as the air before the storm, when rapidly hasten ing down the aisle 1 came to two Kev. Dea cons who cordially shook my hands and then led me to the pulpit 1 heard the whispers of the old and the titterings of the youthful. So hurriedly hud the two great gentlemen greeted me, and so quickly had they led me to the preacher's stand, that I did not fully compre hend the part I was to perforin, until the Dea con staled to the congregation that Brother Merton would open the meeting with a prayer, after which Brother Beam would electrify the audience with a sermon. I.ittle did 1 think I was Brother Beam, until after the prayer the noble old man led me to the front of the stand and introduced me to the congregation os Bro ther Beam. 44 Had I not been under the influence of the 4 raw material,’ I never, no never, would have deceived the audience or perpetrated so sinful a deed. But let that pass,” said Ben, 44 1 have been paid for it all. I believe,” he continued, <4 That 1 took that instructive lesson in the hi bio, * Dei him that is without sin cast the first stone.’ I called to mind all the beautiful pas sages I had ever read in history or in the classics. I worked myself into an intense passion until my ardor found vent in tears, and my emotions were subdued in flowery elo quence. When 1 had nearly closed my ser mon, Abraham made his appearance at the door with his mouth wide open, and his eyes dilated to the bigness of two large sized sau cers. Then it was,” said Ben, as ho rubbed his hands with mirth gladdening his counte nance, 44 Then it was that a full conviction of the fraud I was committing impressed itself upon my mind. I felt a momentary glow of shame pervade rtiy heart I hesitated, hut it was for a moment, and then concluded my sermon in a rhapsody of virtue, 1 left the pul pit and was received with a shower of praises by my delighted audience. Under a pretence that 1 must hurry to other places of public worship, wo mounted our horses anti rode with rapid speed towards the river. “It was some time before Abraham found words to express the horror of his soul at the part I had taken in the performance at the late assembly, lie swore that he never would have thought it, and that if his master were to find it out, he would disinherit me, and Miss Klean* or would (urn her back on me—to which T replied, that if he was wise he had better not mention it, or I would blow on him about the many drams of whisky he had drunk during his absence from homo. This threat recon ciled him to silence, but often as we (raveled along, I could see that he was pondering in mind whether it was not a criminal oifence that we both had committed, and if we were not likely to be punished for it “ We continued to advance at a swift pace towards the river, and as night was quickly ap proaching we began to fear that darkness would overtake us. Shortly after the road came to an abrupt termination, and we disco vered that we had been following a log road and were lost. Great was Abraham’s fear, surprise and mortification. He told of many direful fates that had befallen those who had been lost in these woods—being devoured by wolves and bears. Not heeding his remon strances I gave the pony the reins, when after a smart gallop of half an hour we heard the ring of the woodman’s axe, which Abraham declared was the most joyful sound he had ever heard in his life, and there was music in that noise fit for any gentlem*" *<> •* car - The house soon became visible—it was a large pine log farm house of neat appearance, with plen ty of fodder ami hay standing in stacks near the barn. Two younng men were standing at a pine stump cutting chips from it with a rus tic axe. *“ How arc you, gentlemen,’J exclaimed, casting into my features one of the blandest of smiles. They looked at me but spoke not, and then stared at each other with apparent confusion. 4 Ah,’ said I, assuming a friendly familiarity, 4 You have probably forgotten me; of course you can furnish us with lodgings here to-night ?* 44 4 Well stranger,’ at lust spoke the elder of the two, whoso name was Watts. 4 Well stran ger, w« never turn any man from our house; | but really—now, stranger’— 44 4 I*oh —sir,’ said I, 4 No huts about it, I want and must have quarters for the night I have ridden some twenty-six miles to-day under a hot sun and over a dusty road, and must have food and lodging for beasts and men.’ Springing from my horse I ordered Abraham to do likewise, and to look to the comfort of the tired animals. While we were unsaddling the horses, the two men, Watts and Sands, continued to cut their chips, and when they had finished 1 demanded of Watts the reason he did not wish to extend to two benighted strangers the hospitality due from one Christian to another. 44 4 1 tell you stranger, 1 never turned any man of your res|K!ctablo appearance from my doors, hut’— * 44 4 No huts about it,’ I replied, 4 1 am deter i mined on stopping if I have to sleep in the I bam.’ I 44 4 lt won’t do stranger,’ said \\ atts, shaking 1 bis bead at his companion ; 4 The fact is— but’— 44 4 Oh damn 3'our huts; give me the reason | for refusing n request that one of my father’s darkies would not refuse to a stranger?’ 44 4 You see,’ ho replied, 4 I’m in a fix ; for I was married but two days ago, and we arc going out fire hunting to-night, and we arc just cutting the light wood.’ 44 4 Well, what of that?’ I asked with an im patient gesture. 44 4 Only—this,’ said he, 4 that she will be all alone, and that it is not polite that she should remain nil alone at night with a stranger.’ 14 4 Is that all ?’ said I laughing with a show of pleasure on my visage. 4 1 can remedy all this—let my servant sleep in the barn and lake care of the horses, and I will accompany you in your fire trip.’ 44 He readily confuted to this offer, and as the wife’s call to supper was heard at this mo ment, we ail directed our steps towards the house. A healthful meal was spread before us, inviting my appetite to satisfy its cravings. I Now was my only time for softening the heart of this cruel and jealous husband. 1 found | the lady handsome and agreeable. She had j been a widow some fourteen months before her marriage with Mr. Watts. She had been | blessed with a pretty little daughter some six I or seven years old, and on this little creature’s sympathies I relied much. I gave her money and a silver lead pencil. I praised her beauty, and complimented the mother on the graceful charms of the fair child. 1 used every effort to render myself agreeable. I told many an agreeable anecdote which made them laugh till tears came into their eyes. My face was lit with the most candid of smiles; my tongue was never steady for an instant; hut it wan all in vain. Sands said it was time to start out, and that the horses and the dogs were ready. I had expatiated at considerable length upon the heat of the day—the long ride—and : how tired the horses appeared. As we were about leaving the door she called her husband 1 and said:— 4 Mr. Watts, this gentleman seems to bo very tired; would it not be better to let I him sleep in Mr. .Sands’ bed?’ T EUMS : FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. 44 4 What ?’ said Watts in reply, * I did think of that; hut since you want him to stay, he shan’t; and now he must go on the hunt.’ 44 1 laughed off the embarrassment which seemed to seize the wife, and with a merry voice bade her good night, and consoling my self with the idea that a chance might olfer during the hunt to teach this husband a lesson that might be a benefit to future travelers, off we started, Watts ahead on an old white horse, with some gunny bags to protect his rump from the sparks that fell from the fire pan at every step of the horse. Next followed Sands on another white horse, with a rille on his shoulder, leading a hound. And finally next in order came your humble servant on a roan horse, with axe and fire-wood. Striking directly into a dense thicket we soon reached a stream very dry and densely covered with knotty cypress limber, with strong bushes li ning its banks. Shortly after this 1 fell asleep apd lost the axe. Watts cursed angrily at this, and swore that city folks were not fit to live in the country. 44 Not intimidated by this loss, which had de layed us, our tramp was renewed, when my horse stumbled into a hole, and being asleep at the moment, I went one way, the horse another—and the saddle and lirc-wood ano ther. After inquiries as to my limb*, the sad dle was replaced and the rider again mounted. Shortly after this, Watts said ho saw a deer. The gun was passed to him, when he banged away and then declared he had mortally wounded it The dog was now put on the trail, held by a string in the liands of Sands. Away we went as fast as the dark ness and the bushes would permit, when, thunks to kind fortune, the string broke, and they never saw the dog afterwards. After due consultation had, it was decided to leave the dog to his fate, supposing the wolves would I devour him before daylight We now direct ed our course to the residence of old Dad, who lived all alone, ns Watts said, without nothing to subsist on but whisky and water-melons. — Taking a winding path through the woods, we soon arrived at the obi man’s house, and quick ly aroused him from his slumber. The deni zen of the forest soon made his appearance with a light, and demanded our business be fore opening the door. Knowing the voices of his friends, he soon presented himself to our view, accompanied by a very large deer dog. The man’s nose was rosy red, his eyes were small hut piercing, with a sly twinkle in each corner; his cheeks were bloated, and his body was about the size of an ordinary hogshead. After we had explained to him our adventures for the night, he laughed heartily at our mis fortunes, and told Watts and Sands to take a sack and go down to the field and get some melons. Hut before going he said, 4 Probably this here stranger would like a nip at the crit ter, ami he shall have it.’ He soon returned with a coffee-pot full to the brim, and then proposing our good health, he drank a long draught out of the mouth of the spout. After Watts ami Sands had disappeared in pursuit of the melons, I told the old man all my grie vances and my determination to be revenged. 44 4 Stop,’ said he, 4 leave it to me. I have two water-melons soaked in whisky, and as Watts’ horse is dry I’ll make the brute eat them both;’ ami suiting the action to the word, he was absent twenty minutes. When he return ed he exclaimed in joyful nccents, 4 The thing’s done, and the goose am plucked.’ 44 Watts and Sands now returned, and after eating our melons and drinking our whisky, and then pay ing largely for our entertainment, we took our departure. As 1 shook the old fellow by the hand he whispered in my car, 4 Watch Watts’ horse, and you’ll be square with him.* I pressed the old Inebriate's hand in token of approbation, and then pre pared myself in my saddle to watch the sport Scarcely had we passed the bars when Watts’ horse began to prance and snort at a prodi gious rate, and to dance around with all the i liveliness of youth. 44 4 I believe he secs a ghost,’ exclaimed Sands. 4 1 never saw him act in such a queer i pert manner before.’ 44 4 Woa, won, halloa,’ cried Watts. 4 Woa you beast What the devil is the matter with the varmint—what on earth ails him C It was all in vain—old whitcy never felt more I uprightly in his youthful days, when elasticity was in his limbs, and vigor in his heart. Catch ing the bitt between his jaws, he darted oil’ through the woods for home, with his anxious rider bellowing woa! at the top of his voice, and with his pan whirling through the air, un til its last flickering brand was smoking amid the trees. 44 Next morning early we visited Watts. He came to meet us at the gate, limping, and with a large handkerchief tied over his forehead. 44 4 Arc you much hurt ?’ asked Sands. 44 4 Hurt,’said Watts with an oath; 4 Why tfie infernal brute never stopped runing until he got home, and then jumped the bars, tum bling me head over heels, and wounding me severely in the head. Look at him now in the field with the saddle and bridle still attached to him. Never mind,’ suit! he, with a shake of his head, 4 if 1 don’t make you see another ghost, may the devil catch me.’ 44 Lidding Watts farewell, and calling Sands to me and explaining the whole of the affair, Abraham and I proceeded home at a desperate rate of speed. M And now,” said Ben, 44 to make a long sto ry short, suffice it to say that one month after wards, my family, together with various guests, were assembled around my father's dinner ta bic at tlie country seat I had been delayed on that day by several annoyances while Ash ing, and did not take my seat at the table un til the guests had been seated nearly an hour, or until after serving of the first course. Then it was my trouble began, for no sooner had 1 entered the hall, when 10, and behold! two gentlemen arose in haste, and hurriedly offer- I ing their hands, exclaimed, “ ‘ We are glad to see you, brother Iteam, we I have long been seeking you.’ I “In vain I protested that they were mista j ken. It was no go. I ahem’d, and I ahaw’d, it was all no go. The affair was soon gotten , out of Abraham ; and that evening my Klea- I nor—my dear Eleanor —gave me the sack ; and my father forbid me to sec him again for a year. That night I left for the city of New Orleans, and one week from that day I was on hoard of the steamer hound for California. I have toiled for three years at the hardest kind of work, ami as yet with hut little success, , hut I an determined never to go home w ithout a pile.” tom. Drnth of Dr. Kli-*hn Knit Knur. The news by Ihc last steamer brings the melancholy intelligence of the death of this distinguished gentleman. He had recently gone to Cuba for his health, but his constitu tion was so shattered from extreme exposure in the Arctic expedition, that he survived but a short time after reaching Havana. We copy tho following sketch of his character from an Hastem paper received by the last steamer. “ J>r. Kane was born in Philadelphia, in the year 1822, and had accordingly just entered upon his thirty-fifth year. Ho received his academic education at the University of Vir ginia, and graduated as Doctor of Medicine at the University of J’eimsylvania in 1848. Soon after that date ho entered the United States Navy as Assistant Surgeon, and accompanied the first American Embassy to China. With his native thirst for observing the manners and customs of strange countries, he visited differ ent parts of China, the Philippines, Ceylon, and the interior of India, lie was the first white person who descended into the crater of the 'fail of Luzon, accomplishing this at the hazard of his life. Ho was suspended by a bamboo rope around bis body, from a project ing .crag iuorc than two hundred feet ahovo the remains of volcanic eruptions. With bot tles of sulphurous acid and other specimens from the mouth of the crater, he was dragged up senseless through the scoria?. Upon this expedition he w:fts attacked by the La drones and savages of the Negrito race, and exposed to other hardships which proved fatal to his traveling companion, Baron Loc, of Prussia. After this, he traversed a considera ble portion of India, visited Ceylon, ascended the Nile to the confines of Nubia, and passed a season in Egypt. Ho traveled through Greece on foot, and returned in 1840 to the United States. He was immediately ordered to the Coast of Africa, and sailing in tho fri gate United States, visited tho slave factories from Cape Mount to the river Bonny, and ob tained free access to the baracoons of Daho mey. Returning home in a precarious state of health, he recovered sufficiently to visit Mexico during the war as a volunteer. lIC suc ceeded in delivering despatches from the Pre sident to the Coimnandor-in-Chief, escorted by the notorious spy company of the brigand and after getting the better of a detachment of Mexican soldiers, whom they encountered at Nopaluca, he w’as forced to combat his companions single handed in order to save the lives of his prisoners, General Torrajon, General Gaona, and others, from their fury. On the return of peace, he was ordered upon the ('oast Survey, under Profes sor Baehc, and was thus employed in the Gulf of Mexico, when he volunteered his ser vices to the first Grinncll Expedition in 1850, Ho was accepted as senior surgeon and natu ralist of the squadron, and entered upon his duties with an enthusiasm, sagacity and power of endurance, which admirably prepa red him for tho more arduous responsibilities of the second Expedition, the results of which are before the world. “ In his private character, Dr. Kane display 'd a singularly lovely and attractive union of qualities, in striking contrast with the boldness and resolution which Impelled him on his ca reer of adventure. The narrative of his ex peditions presents a delightful illustration of Ids personal traits. In this respect they pos sess the charm of unconscious autobiography. His modest simplicity, his refined tastes, his tcnderncs> of feeling, and his almost feminine sympathies are perpetually revealed in connec tion with as dauntless courage and constancy as ever nerved heroic heart to lofty prowess. Hence the magnetic pow'er which ho ixertcd over the companions of his enterprise, winning their romantic attachment, and making him self a centre of light and encouragement, amid the darkest moments of the forlorn hope in tho Arctic seas. Whatever the scientific results of his perilous voyages, they are of still higher significance in the example they have present* 1 ed of noble, persistent, disinterested and un j dismayed manhood. Tallehahd has defined language as being the faculty given to man for concealing his thoughts, NO. 2.