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.Pcmfc ItttnipMs Carts. ! 3'HisctKanrons. Ls9 3) M. 8. WAKD Editor & Proprietor A. I. HARTLEY, Publisher. VOL, J. PA.MUA C 0 U X T Y , MISS., WEDNESDAY, JULY 10, 1850. .0. 25. tsa teas ksO "THIS PANOLA- STAR I 1'UBLISIIBU F.VERV SATURDAY, AT IMXOLA, .HISS. TERMS. For one year if paid in advance, 00 If paid within six months 2 f0 After six months, I 00 Igates of ASvortiiin. One square, first insertion, 1 00 Each subsequent insertion, 60 For three months, f 00 For six months 8 00 For out year 1 00 A liberal deduction made for larger td ertieuuT.ts. JO IS WO R K )i' all descriptions, from 1 uge hand hills to fancy curds, done with neatness and despatch, and on reasonable terms. tp" All communications must be address-vl to M. S. Ward., Esip, l'a nola. M iss. i'OE THY . Lor the &tr. Urn i AS;hn. An I do A thou doubt that maiden's love Whose friendship thou'st obuv'nod? ( : Las she eoMly turned fiom thee, '1 hat's fdle I thy h-art with pain"- lV--ehan ' sh -"s ga.M upon thy brow, An.'. wonderine: it was sad, J"U.e byhtlv of her lover's VOW, As th.mrlvher heart was -lad. Au 1 yc t h 'r h '.t t may beat for tin e It ; ir.t'h. th-re's noij. may tell, i i 1 T. i, tiij liijt et, that maiden's h e, mou Uas't proved it w M.-Ki'!iis, 1 nn. MY JU'FV. 1 have a work to do, A work I may not shon; On-- path I uiu4 pursue t'util my iii'" b d ei . V, i.tt others do I n-ed not a-k : F1.0 a-;h for ne 1 know my task. 'i i-1 nol to seek for wealth i cove' no man's store: I thank my Co 1 for h a'.lh t a-k for n-e him; more, dad' wants as-. mvmi supplie.V,-Hi- ..; t t O j n t n.vl, d u:ed. I t o'L- rs .leek fo- t on , d !i h ei.cA' of an hour, I ire not l'vr a nam?, F .'.'. glory or for powrr. Ti. rnee 1 have to ot'en- fre . , -h u ancient b'i-;s i njt for m-. T'i.T, aire, tint .-yren fair, H is lo-t h-r power to eh ".m ; Il-r jov- ;re empty air, I o.Mi ro i. ioi-" tle'ir eh uai; Yoe o'h r a?;- aits s ?em to say, S'ti'T nor, but work while yet 'tis day. wipe tie1 trembling tear I'ro-0 the p de liemrn -i-'s eve, Jo sooiho the unx'niivs tear, Or hush th ri.-di!.' sigh ; 'i i iiiu i a tli.4 for which to live, j joy that wealth Can ii?ver T j :-drive ag'l::ls th- wrotv.r, That takes the. nam? of riht; io battle with the strong An 1 con-pier in tlie tih', lirin-'s truer happiness than e mld Iho warrior wreath, if bathed in hlo-id. ''.Voik, then, from day to day, Nor pause for praise or blame.; Care not 1'or what men say, Duty 16 .still the same; The ret which at all times would crave To none is distant in the grave. j iOAir:. F well, f ir'wvll, whm far away O'er OLv.m7j wave I roam, My heart shall never from thee stray, My humble, happy lumc. Vken crsd in childhood's merry hour, "With lightsome heart, and free, I've sung within the hawthorn bow'r, Or tripp'd it on the lea. He vr oft beneath pale Cynthia's beam, I've wandered near the shore Of Schuylkill's bright and purling stream I11 cureless tlaji of yore. Farewell, my Home to all I love, That shone with holy light, Though far away my barque shall rove, No distance c'r can blight. ' Wilt then be miner"" the lover asked, As bending on his knees : ll'-r hand within his own he clasped, ''Be mine, Oh, won't you, leacV" The maiden blushed, and turned her head, Her feelings to suppress; A w ith a faltering voice she said,1 ' I won't be nothing else." TIIK ;OL1H:, CLASP; O K The Perjured CohlMniih. nv rnor. j. 11. iMJit.vHAM. PART I. A modest, and exceedingly pretty young girl, plainly attired, entered one of the goldsmith's stores on street, and seeing that a gentleman was en gaged with the proprietor, she timid ly shrunk aside near the door, until he should be at leisure. The assistants were also o-upied with customers, whore dress and appearance showed them to belong to ihe class of the rieh, ami s;i she was suffered to remain some I line stan ling there, before she could be attended to. The .fenl lem-i n . who was a Miio, noble looking person, with a remarkably polished address, seen-.,' Her waiting, r-oirteor-dy stood aside, and said to 1 Ik ( iohlsm'uii : " I o not oecMpy yourself with me. now, Mr. Itrooehanl, 1 can examine these watches by mvself, while yo m see what this young person wants, who has been waiting so patiently 1o get an opportunity to speak to you." What do you wish, Miss '" a-ked the (Johlsmiili, with a hmk that con veyed a reproof to her for intcrrupi nig him w hile engaged with a customer of more value to him. The girl hesitatingly approached : he counter, and taking from her bosom a re.nall gold clasp, bent oyer to him, and said, in a law, trembling voice " 1 wish, sir, you would be so kind is to k.-ep tliis a few days, ami hd me have seven dollars on it." f.ow as i-he spoke, her soft tremb ling line's reached the cars of (d. M'lienry, the gentleman who was pre sent, and he turned to observe her fair lace, and hear the reply of the gold smith to this timid, and painfully urged request. The. goldsmith took the clasp scornfully between his lingers, and throwing it down, said sharply to her; " This is no pawnbroker's shop, girl, on if it was, that thing is not worth i w o del la rs." "it is of inestimable, value to me, sir, indeed, it, is the only thing valua ble I have;" answered she, earnestly, and her cheek slightly flushed at the rude manner id' his reply. " I don't know what you may value it at." he answered, with a cold laugh, glancing ai Col. M'Honry, whom he saw severely observing iittir, i would int like to give you six shillings for it." " Hut sir," plead th" girl, uneon cioiis of beii g overheard, ' 1 muil have seveti dollars to-day, and 1 have no other way of getting it, and I was in hopes, sir, that you might let me have that sum on it ; fori will cer tainly come back and false it up again." "1 te you," answered h", angrily, " I keep no pawnbroker's lcp. !oto the .lews." "They won't give me bu" two dol lars, and I want seven-." " And t-o coo thick to go) if r-ut of me The yocng pii'l was about to speak again, but a if led knowing what further argumcvd" to rg, hesitated, and was turning slowly away, when sh checked herself and again spoke t hint : Sir," she said, in a bv, thrilling tone of e-ir-'-d -r. t t'ealy, " my mother is now hiug very ill, and our rent is due at :l o'cl ck to-day, and ih.' per sons we sew lm having disappointed us in our pay, I have no ol her resource than (his! O! sir, will you take this clasp only for ;t few days, and 1 will then rcpav von." Mr. lh-oochard felt that Col. W ib-nt y's eyes were upon him, waiting tu answer, and as he wished him to think him a man of business, (which meant in his notion, a man without a h".u-t) he answered promptly and .lernly, . " No. J)o ou think we are simple tons here, t.' throw away money in this way .' if son have nothing more to saw please ?tnml ae for customers. Well, Colonel, what do think of those? Latest importation; full jewelled m and warranted in all. points. I will sell you the one just-laid down lor one hundred and ninety-five dollars." The gentleman, however, was not heeding him, but watching the young girl whom he saw leaving the counter, with a heavy, drooping step, approach ed the door. ITcr lace had struck hiin for its sweet, intelligent lovlmess, and her modesty had for him an irrc sistalde charm; but her plea of pover ty deeply interested Ids feedings, and enlisted his sympathies in her behalf. He had silently observed the progress of her interview with him, w.ti Hons of contempt for one, and pity tor "handwas on the knob oMhe door, when advancing towards her, he Ybu asked, I believe, -for seven dollars?" hesaivit est in his tone, that at once aAnert hope in her heart, and again broubni the light to her eyes, and the hue to her cheeks, as she diffidently answer ed: '"Yes sir, I should not have been eo hold and urgent, but "None too much so. There is a ten dollar note I have no smaller bills." " Sir, you are too kind "Not a word, I am too happy to do vou a service." "Take the clasp, sir, though I am ashamed to offer it to you, since" the gen tleman says it is so valueless. But to me it is as valuable as life, and I foolishly thought it must be so to others." "ldo not want it, child," answered Col. M'lienry, feelingly putting his hand aside, while she urged it upon him. "Indeed, sir, vou must take it, for I shall feel in some degree under less obli gations to a stranger. Besides, 1 wish to call and redeem it. "Will you give me your address, .-ii-J" and us she poke, he still declined the jewel, she laid it on the show-box. "Oil no matter but if vou insist the Fiuted State.- Hotel. "Thank you sir, you can n?ver know th Messing to others, that will follow your kindness to me to-d iv." Thus speaVinir, and looking upon 1dm j won an expression ot grntituile in tier tearful eves, she left the shop, forgetting the golden clasp, which she b-ft upon the show-ease. Will ou look at one of these wateh'M, now, Col. M'lienry r" su perciliously asked the goldsmith, without lifting his condemned eytv. " No sir," au-iwered the gentleman stern ly. And taking his cane and gloves he walked from the shop of the avaricious goldsmith, who, too close to risk a tri'le to relieve the wants of a poor family, pro bably lost a large amount by the purchas es h:s wealthy customer might have made, as well as his own self-respect, such as it was; for avarice always sinks into its shell before the broad sun of benevolence. "Now there goes a man who throws away money upon vagrants, while I keep mine to support my family," said the gold smith, looking after him, "he thinks me a miser, and I think him a fool. Oh, here is that clasp after all! She left it for him, on the snow case, and he w as too proud to take it if he saw it. Seveu dol lars! It is not worth more than five!" lie opened it as he spoke, and taking up ft rhare itrunient, tried the firmness of the gold. " it is good old Mexican gold. It might have once cost twenty dollars. Ah! what! a star of diamonds within it!" he exclaim ed, as in w orking about w ith a point of ste.'l, he discovered a cavity. k Twelve large diamonds of the purest water ! This is indeed valuable ! Let nie see they are worth at least five hundred dollars ! I suspect she was ignorant of the cavity, which I detected only by accident ske has.stolen it, and w ill never return for it." "Ah, ah, Abraham Broochard, thou hast made a good evening's work of it!" he said exultingly to hlms 'lf. T!c-n look around among his shop-bovs, to see if he was observed, he carefully, yet with a e'.vvrful air, locked the clasp ie his private drawer, and taking out the key placed it in his pocket. Hchad hard ly done s j when Col. M'lienry re-entered, and without speaking, or even looking at him, cast his eyes upon the show-case, for the clasp, which he recollected, after going out, the young girl had laid down, Inn did not take it up again, and so he turned back for it. Abraham Broochard was very busily engaged in replacing the watches in their doc-skin covers, and 're served silence and ignorance. At Jen ;th Col. Mdlenry spoke: " That young person laid her clasp on this case, sir, w hich I neglected to take op. It is a dy it should be lost, she valued it so highly." "The" clasp! Oh, oh, I have not seen it sir. She took it up again." " Did you Gee her?" " Ve.s; oh, yes! I had my eyes upon her, and she said at the same time, you would never see the clasp again, or your ten dol lars either." The gentb man eyed him steadily an in stant, and tii n glancing around the show ease again, as if in search of it, he quit the shoo. PAllT II. Several days had clap.'cd, and Col. M'llenjy had quite forgotten the circu'n stance, when he felt his sleeve suddenly pulled by some one, who he heard running behind lnm, and looking round he beheld, with a cheek glowing from the pursuit, the girl he had seen at the goldsmith's. " Oh, sir, I am so happy to have found vou," she said, at once addressing him, as he stopped, and with pleasure listened to her. " I was at length enabled to get mv pay, and by other w ork have earned enough to repay you the ten dollars, you so kiadlv gave me. You don't know the good you did the sufferings you relieved, The evil you timely averted. " Here is the monc-, sir." "Nay, my good girl, I do not want it, I made you a present of it at the time, and did not expect you to return it. I am, however, glad to find that you have the disposition to do so, and that I was not deceived in my estimation of you." "You must take it, sir;" she said with ingenious earnestness, "I should bo dis tressed to be longer under pecuniary ob ligation to an entire stranger. Besides, sir, I woiddbe very glad to have my clasp, if you please." ' ''Did you not take it from the case where you laid it down ?" lie asked, with surprise and justly directed suspicion. Ofo, sir indeed, sir, I hope it is not lost. It is of countless value to nie. It was given me by by "By a sweetheart," added he smihngi "He is now dead, sir," she answered with overflowing eyes. "You do well to value it, I did not take it up. Are you sure you left it there?" "Yc, sir; hoping you would take it and keep it till I paid you the money." "Well, my child, I have not got it, but I believe the goldsmith has. Let u: go to him." ' On their arrival at the shop, Mr. Brooch ar J denied having ever seen it since she went out, and that he saw her take it with her, and place it in her bosom a- she left the shop. The young lady turn ed pale, and vvas inconceivably distressed. 'Come with me, I will find the clasp for you," said Col. Mcllenry, offering her his arm and leaving the goldsmith's with her. "I do hope I shall find it, .sir,'' she said, as they walked. "It was Robert's last gift. It was given him in Cuba bv a rich lady, whose life he saved by rescu ing her from the w ater. He was a sailor, sir, and little to' leave me but his memory and my poor clasp. Oh, sir if it is lost, 1 shall never forgive myself fcr o.Tering to pledge it. But, sir, our extremity was very great." Col. Mcllenry stopped with her at a justice's ollice, and brielly and clearly made Ids complaint, and in a very few minutes Mr. Broochard made his appear ance before the magistrate. He appeared to he in a great trepidation, and was as pule as ashes, for he ha 1 been suddenly taken, without warning, from behind his counter, leaving his shop in the charge of his astonished assistants. Col. M'ile'nrv, and the young lady being sworn, d-'pusc-d that they both had last seen the clasp on the show-case, that it was th--r wim each went out: and the former further d"po-; -d that lie had not got three steps from th--door before he returned, and found it nls siiig, and no one in tin vicinity but th defendant. The goldsmith was tie n called up to bo vorn as to his knowledge cf the facts. He approached the stand where- the mag istrate held the Bible, and laid his hands upon it with a percplible tremor of his whole body : but love of money w as strong er than the fear of the law, and he took the oath. It appeared as though he would sink through the tloor when he took it, but the moment he done it he recovered his audacity. At this moment an officer, who at th suggestion of Col. M'Henrv, h id been privately dispatched by the justice with a search warrant to the shop of the goldsmith, now entered, and placed some thing in th" magistrate's h an i, after brief ly whispering to him. " Did you ever see this gold ornament before?" asked the magistrate, holding up the clasp before the young ladv's eves! "Oh, it is my clasp it is my'clas'p '" she cried, springing forward. "Yes, it is the same," answered the Colonel. "And did voc ever see it before? de manded the justice, sternly, holding it in the direction of the goldsmith, who had seen it at the first, and was appalled with fear ami eonsternatiou. Instead of re plying, he uttered a wild hysterical laugh, and fell his length in convulsions on the floor. He V-'.. a few Weeks aftcv I iken from prison and tried for perjury; but his rea son forsook him, and instead of the gal lows, he is now raving in a mad-house. Thus was avarice and parsimony, and in difference to the sufferings of the poor, punished in this life; the acts of this sel fish man shows to all, that acquivitiveness wrongly directed, is fatal to its possessor. Col. M'lienry proved to be a bachelor; and though a little turned of thirty, his heart was keenly alive to all the finer sen sibilities of our nature. He could feel for the dow-trodJen poor, and sympathise with the unfortunate-. To this trutn, none could more positively attest than the young friend of the "golden clasp," for ere two moons had waned, she rejoiced in the euphonic title of Mrs. Col. M'lienry, surrounded with all the appearances of wealth that a grateful heart could enjoy, or even wish. Her poor afflicted mother was well provided for, when she soon re covered her health and happiness, and prosperity smiled upon all. Thousand of men breathe., move, and live pass off the stage of life, and are heard of no more. Why ? They do not a particle of good in the world, and none were blessed by them; none could point to them as an instru ment of their redemption; not a word they spoke could be recalled, and so they perished ; their light went out in darkness, and they were not remem bered more than the insect of yester day. Will you thus live and die, O man immortal Jdve for something. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue that the storm of time can never destroy. Write your name in kindness, love, and mercy on the hearts of thousands you come in contact with year bv vear. You will never be forgotten. No. Your name, your deeds, will be as legible on the hearts you leave behind, as the stars on the brow of the evening. Good deeds will shine as the stars of heav en." An Humble Slonie Arc you not surprised to find how independent, of money, peace of con science is, and how much happiness can be condensed in the humblest home? "A cottage will not hold the bulky furniture and sumptuous accom modations of a mansion ; but if God be there, a cottage will hold as much happiness as might a palace. A woman is either worth nothing or a great deal. If good for nothing, she is not worth getting jealous for ; if she be a true woman, she will give no cause for jealousy. Three things are essential to make a man happy out of debt, good health, and a wife. Virtue, honesty, sobriety-and indus try will secure health, wealth and true happiness. AfSosziant'c ol'lgcal Isit'e. The editor of the Chicago Times, having been on the north side of that city to see a friend, was re cently pievenled from reaching his home, in consequence of a steam-tug having passed up the river, with a small licet of vessels in tow, and one of which had been cast oil', and hauled in, just west of he bridge, leaving the "chaw" still open. While wail ing, he witne-.-ed the following scene : The vessel we have mentioned, was moored, nnd made fast, out side ol' several canal boats ; and as we stood looking at the men upon her, one of them approached a fe male, who had been crouched np '011 the deck, and addressing her, pointed to flie shore, then to the bridge, down towards the throng ed and busy street of living mov ing, headlonu Chicago. She rose, picked up a small bun dle, from which she drew forth a cin, which she tendered to the hardy sailor. He refused it, what ever it was, lending her a hand, helped her lrom the vessel to the deck, and then from the deck to to the bridge. By this time, a lame croud of passengers thronged the north end of where the bridge would be if it were always a bridge: and in contemplating the new thces, nud the reprepresentatives of the various classes there assem bled, we had almost forgotten the incident we have related. Our at tention was called, from a vain endeavor .to discover some cessa tion of tugs going up and down, and schooners and brigs pulling in and out, by hearing a most audi ble sob from some one near us. It was not the sob of childhood, caused by some sudden change from gaiety to grief; it was the sob of some mature breast, filled with a sense of loneliness and dis pair. t reached other cars than ours. A lady, dressed in a manner which bespoke a wealth -that could gratify taste and elegance, and who, like ourselves, was detained at that place, stood near, accom panied by three children, whose desire to iret at the extreme end of the platform, she with difHculty represscd. With a woman's ten derness, her heart recognized the stilled ebullition of sorrow, and approaching the person from whom it came, who was none oth er than the woman we had just seen land from the vessel, she quietly, and . in that soft sweot voice of woman, which none can resist, inquired if she stood in need, or was ill, or was her sorrow such that she could not be reliev ed. A portion of the railing near 11s, was vacant, and towards that, and almost at our side, these two women came to converse. The strauger was a fair, haudsome girl, of about seventeen years; neatly, but coarsly dressed, with shoes not only well worn, but heavy, andunsuited as much for her sex as for the season. The poor girl, in honest simplicity, aim with an earnestness which despair alone can impart, related her history, uninterrupted by a single observa tion from her companion, but of ten accompanied by the tears of both. Y e have not space lor it at length, but we will give it, changing its order just enough to enable us to state it briefly. She said that she was bora in Boston ; she had no brother or sis ter now ; she remembered that she had a sister, the oldest, whose name was Lizzie ; that sister, years ago, against her father's will, had married, and with her husband, having been banished from the father's sight, had gone ofF, and had not been heard of since no doubt was dead. At the time of her sister's marriage, her parents were wealthy', the pride which drove away -Lizzie, had brought silent regrets,' and after a while came melancholy complaints by the mother," sighing for the em brace of her first-born These soon led to anger and crimination at home, and dissipation by the lather abroad. Losses came upon them, and at last, gathering the few worldly goods they possessed, they left the proud city of their buth, and settled, live vears ago, upon hind purchased of the govern ment, in Wisconsin. I for brothers, some older, and some, younger than herself, one by one, drooped and died; and soon the mother, calling in agony upon her long exiled daughter, joined her boys in a happier clime. None were now left but the father and this poor girl. Ife too, was humbled and stricken by the slow but cer tain disease which light up the cheek, and fires it with the brilli ancy af health, even when its vic tim is on the confines of eternity. lie would fit, and tell to his surviving child, the acts of win ning love and sacrificing devotion, which had made his Lizzie the very object of hi life. lie would talk of her sweet smiles and happy disposition, until .memory would lead him to the hour wJien he bid her to depart, and not let him see her lace again. His decline was rapid, and this lone child saw the i lowers, which the warmth of spring had called from the soil on her mother's grave, disturbed up rooted and thrown aside, that his ashes might mingle with those of the mother of his children. At his death, he charged her to pay off, as far as she might be aide, the debts incurred to procure the necssa-riesoflife- The land, which for the want of culture, had not increased in value, was sdd, and left her but a few dollars. These she expended, in rearing fome boards, to mark the spot, where she had seen buried, one after another, her beloved kindred. .She had learned of Chicago. She had learned (hat in the city, there were offices, where strangers wishing employment, could find work. She had, on fcot, traveled many milcr, until she reach ed Milwaukie, -cud thence, by the kindness of a poor sailor, who had seen her day after day on the deck, watch ing the steamers depart, had inquired, and ascertained that she wished to come hither, but had no money. He brought her to Chicago on his own vessel, and told her thai by cross ing the bridge, she could find one of those, places where situations were given to worthy applicants. ' Such was her story. She had men tioned no name, except that of her father, mother, and thj endearing ap pellations of brother George, Willie, etc. Both of the women were cry ing bitterly. The fashionably, dress ed lady, turned her face to wards the river, that her tears, at such a crowd ed and unusual place, might not be observed. She requested us to take her two bovs George and ulie she called them by the hand, to keep them from danger, and then, putting her hand around the neck of the poor, friendless wandering orphan stranger, said: "You are mv own sister. I am Liz zie 1" These two beings, children of the same parents, how dift'erent have been their paths, and how deep their suffer ings ! We have seen them together in Lizzie's carriage, driving along Lake street. Thev are doubtless as happy as their bereavements, relieved only by the consciousness of duty faithfully performed, can permit. But while the suffering of that father aud mother may be faintly known, by the story of the daughter, what must have been the mental agony of that other daughter, unkindly banished from her mother's side, and driven in to the world without a father's bless ing! What must have been her grief, when her letters, written from a pros perous city, from the house of her wealthy and kind husband, telling them of her success, and of the birth of her children, were unnoticed and unanswered I Sho mu.d have felt, in deed, that the hearts of that father and . mother, her sister and brothers, must have- been hardened against her. We will say no more. ' The scene will live in our memory, while we can remember the holy love of father, mother and kindred. . , A BRIDE'S TROUSSEAU. A New York paper thus describes the trousseau of a daughter of the South, recently prepared in that city : " It comprised every article of cloth ing that ladies wear, even to the mys terious, and all got up in the most su perb and costly style. The dress alone cost fifteen hundred dollars. , The jew els, which were of pearls and diamonds,"" comprised breastpin, bracelets, armlets three rings, hair pins, chatelaine ear rings, three chemisse studs, and two side pins, besides clusters which deco rated the corsage of the dress, all of which were valued at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. . A "sum not: equal, perhaps, to the dowry of an Eastern Princess, but very well for the daughter of a Rqublican " -; Manners make the man the want; of it the fellow. - - -. - t 1 1 ' 1 s t - t . is - 1: if 1 j it 1. i f. ft f i 1 1 i ,' 5 h V .1