The weekly ledger., June 06, 1857, Image 1

About The weekly ledger. (Jackson, Amador County, Cal.) 1857-1857

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VOLUME 2. J
£I)C UJcckln Ccfcgcr,
published evert Saturday, nr
T A. SPRINGER & CO.
A gPBIHGKK. E. B. DAIXGERFIELD.
Tor xxl s i
n r « oa [h“ U n( ' VftnCe ; : '• •
CI \ MOlltk n nn
Three Months. - 2 00
Advertising.
0n p Square of 10 lines, first Insertion, $3 -each
111 rfr"l" 1 i dedue tlon on the al>ove rates will
hr ramie for quarterly and yearly advertisemets.
legal ADVERTISEMENTS
Will be inserted at the following rates:—Two Dol
, ' muare fur the first insertion, and One Dol
r square for caeh subsequent Insertion.
JOB PRINTING.
We arc prepared to do Job Printing of every rfe
in a style superior to any other office in
hc Southern Mines, and at as fair rates.
Volcano !¥o. 56, F« find A* Ifl*
t stated Meetings on each Saturday evening
pr-^i>g thc f mi of w. m.
E, DREY, Scc’y.
Volcano It. A. Chapter, No. 11.
Uvular meetings Ist and M Tuesdays in each
mouth.
OFFCKBR.
V r W.Bicknbl, 11. P.; E..J r. Williams, K.;
i:. Pkteb Daii.v.; R, A. B. Hot. Secy
Daniil cl J. K. Handy,
(I.ATE OF AMADOR C 0.,)
COTI-LOH A T LA W,
H AVING rewnred t<> Plarcrvil/e, will strictly al
ti iul to all Professional Business confided to
1 m in thc District Courts of Amador, Calaveras
El Dorado counties„and in the Supremo Court
of the State. ...
. ullice in Dorsey »fire-i>roof building, Main
ftreet . .
mar 14
A. C. Urown,
attorney and counsellor at
LAW,
t 'upstairs, opposito thc Union Hotel, Main
street, Jackson.
2fi-ly
apr 18
TlioniaN I), (iruut,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT
LAW,
[office over Wells. Fargo A Co.’s Express, Jackson,
Amador County,
apr 18 26-ly
A. It. Crawford, M. I).,
JACKSON, AMADOR COUNTY, CAL,
Office at the Louisiana Hotel, Main street,
apr 18 28-ly
John W. Armstrong,
Attorney nutl Counsellor at Law,
KXITICE with A. C. Brown, Esq.. Main street,
’ Jackson. Will attend to all business entrust
t d t.. li is care.
may 16
30-ly
jam. f. iii mi Aim,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
JACKSON, CALIFORNIA.
ian. 31
15-ly
W. W. COPE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
JACKSON, CALIFORNIA,
jan. 31 15-ly
PARLEY A PAWEI.NO,
ATTORNEYS ANO COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Dffice in Hale's lire proof building, up stairs, Main
street, Volcano,
mar 7 1-4- 20tf
K. M. BKIOOB.] [B. B. AXTELL.
ItlllOOS A AXTELL,
A TTO lINE YS AT LAW,
JACKSON, AMADOR COUNTY. CAL.
DFFICE—At the Court House.
nov 24 5-ly
W. lIEN It V JONES,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
P ill pay strict attention to making collections and
pt"ini to all Legal Business entrusted to his care.
fßico on Union Square, next door to Johnson A
fo.'s store, Volcano.
[ je 7 33-ly
t'omily lffiim>l‘l Office.
JAS. MASTERSN,
t'VTT SURVEYOR AND CIVIL EVOINEER, OFFICE IN
THE COURT HOUSE. JACKSON.
JAVING assumed the duties of my office, I am
J- prepared to attend to all professional calls
Jin my mends and the public, both promptly and
berally.
fell 28 19-ly
A. n. BALLARD,
JUSTICE O F THE PEACE,
OFFICE*
NATIONAL HOUSE,
mer of Main aud National streets, Volcano.
dee 6
7-tf
OEO. .tII'NCKTON,
STICK OF THE PEACE,
OFFH3K,
It Mnnckton A Warner's Drug Store, Main street,
V oleano.
I dec 6 7_jy
«eo. li. Ptniiih, m. I>.
P" VSICIAJV AA'D SVIi a EOJV.
O' .UCE at Hoy A Smiths Drug Store, Main «t.,
r,, ' °‘ u »no. Residence on the alley, iu the rear
I'he Drug store.
LjJ, The books of tb. late linn of Goodin A
J canbe found at my office. I’ersons indebted
I, , 1 ' "->> to cull and settle.
■ fcb22-18:tf.
S. 11. MAIIEETTE,
U It VP. Y()R \ Civil . EXGINEE
[Y MIJINf; to nisume the practice of my pro
V ' "•among my old friends of Amadon
(’ ww*k° u . l jj* e8 ’ * respectfully oolicit their
!•, ' lernis Wl * K! P rom l* t 'y attended to, on reas
it. ’TP nieea t Jackson's Nows Depot, Jacks
luo , CO ; ,nt - v - California. **n
» T 1 2 S. U. MAHLETTI
THE WEEKLY LEDGER.
The banging of the hammer,
The whirling of the plane,
The crashing of the busy saw,
The creaking of the crane,
The ringing of the anvil,
The grating of the drill.
The clattering of the turning lathe,
The whirling of the mill,
The buzzing of the spindle,
The rattling of the loom,
The puffing of the engine,
The fan's continuous boom,
The clipping of the tailor’s shears,
The driving of the awl—
These sounds of honest industry,
1 love —l LOVE THEM ALL.
The clicking of the magic type,
The earnest talk of men,
The toiling of the giant press,
The scratching of the pen:
The tapping of the yard stick,
The tinkling of the scales,
The whistling of the needle,
[When no bright cheek it pales.]
The humming of the cooking stove,
The surging of the broom,
The pattering feet of childhood,
The housewife’s busy hum;
The buzzing of the scholars,
The teacher's kindly call—
These sounds of active Industry,
/ love~ l LOVE THEM ALL.
I love the plowman's whistle,
The reaper's cheerful song,
The drover's oft-repeated shout
Spurring his stock along;
The bustle of the market man
As be hies him to the town,
The halloa from the tree-top
As the ripened fruit comes down;
The busy sound of threshers,
That clean the ripened grain;
The busker’s joke and catch of glee
’Neath (he moonlight on the plain;
The kind voice of the drayman,
The shepherd's gentle call—
These sounds of pleasant Industry,
/ luce —l LOVE THEM ALL.
Oh there’s a good in labor,
If we labor hut aright,
That gives vigor to the day time,
And sweeter sleep at night;
A good that bringeth pleasure,
Even to the toiling hours,
For duly cheers the spirit
As dew revives the flowers.
Then say not that Jehovah
Gave labor as a doom;
No!—'tis the richest mercy
From the cradle to the tomb.
Then let us still be doing,
What’cr we find to do,
With a cheerful—hopeful spirit—
And free hand, strong and true.
A maiden aunt whose locks of snow
Proclaimed her young—some years ago—
Reproved her niece, a damsel gay,
For dressing in the wanton way
By which our modern girls expose
A vast deal more than eyes and nose!
“Why can't you hide what ought to be hid,
And dress modest and plain as your grandma did?”
“ Dear aunt, so I do—as you may perceive,
I dress in the mode of Grandmother—Eve.’’
THE PRESENTIMENT.
A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION'.
“ There was a sound of revelry by night.”
The moon was shining brightly upon the
polished musket and gorgeous equipments of
a sentinel in the scarlet uniform of the Buffs
[ —the crack regiment of the day—as he
[ traversed his brief round at the garden gate
I of Greenwich St., behind the residence of
Sir Henry Clinton, the commander-in-chief
of the British forces in America.
His stalwart figure and high grenadier cap
made his shadow appear gigantic beneath the
rays of our full and glorious orb—the Wes
tern moon. Occasionally he would pause as
if listening to the rich music which ever and
anon swelled forth from the residence of Sir
Henry, and his thoughts turned upon the
youth and beauty mingling in the dance
within.
Once or twice he passed the back of his
band across his eyes, as if to stay a truant
tear that was stealing from its fountain. His
memory rushed to the days of his early home
in “ merry England.”
“By St. George 1” he muttered, half aloud,
“ I did not think I could be childish. The
sound of the tune has put me in mind of old
Devonshire.”
Saying this be broke ont into the military
song of General Wolfe, which, as tradition
goes, he sung while passing up the St. Law
rence, the night before be fell on the plains of
Abraham:
“ Why soldiers, why.
Should we be melancholy boys,
Whose business ‘tis to die,” Ac.
His voice naturally sweet, souuded per
fectly melodious, as, unconsciously, he forgot
his duty as a sentinel, and gave to the song
the full compass of his manly tones. At a
little distance, concealed from the sentinel by
the shrubbery, was an officer, upon whose
arm leaned a beautiful girl—absentees from
the ball room.
As the after fate of this brave officer forms
a memorable page in our country’s history,
my readers may perhaps like a description of
bis person. He was rather under the middle
JACKSON, AMADOR COUNTY, CAL., SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE fi, 1857.
The Music of Labor.
Primitive Simplicity.
height, of a handsome, well-made figure, and
erect military carriage. His face was oval,
and tlie features decidedly handsome. The
main expression of his countenance displayed
frankness and sincerity. His age seemed
about thirty. His scarlet coat was faced
with buff, and huff breeches, with white silk
stockings, adorned the lower part of his per
son. Such was the ball room costume of
that period.
“\ on seem melancholy to night, Major
Andre,” said his fair companion. “On such
a night ns this you should be otherwise.”
“And in such company, you should have
added, Miss Beekman. Pardon me for this
apparent quietness: The thought that this
may be the last night that I shall ever spend
in New York, is enough to make one feel sad,
is it not fair lady”
“ Leave New York, Major Andre?” said
the young lady, with some surprise. " Are
you going South with Lord Cornwallis?”
11 A soldier, Miss Beckman, must inform
no one of his destination, and particularly one
like yourself, with a touch of the rebel feel
ing towards your countrymen. This much f
will answer, I am not going South.”
“Some new plan of Sir Henry’s, I'll be
bound” said the laughing girl. “ I do love
Washington, and that is the truth. My
father, it is certain, remains firm in his alle
giance to King George, but I, 1 go with our
Republican George—the soldier from Vir
ginia.”
“ I cannot say that I think less of you for
such feelings, Miss Beekman,” said Andre;
“it is natural that we should love our coun
try. Washington is a brave soldier, and from
all I hear a good man. Be that as it may,
however, he has no right to take up arms
against his lawful king, and when he is taken,
as he must be, he will end his davs on a gib
bet.”
"I’ll wager you this rose,” said the merry
hearted girl, in a laughing tone, taking one
from her hair, “ against the first new novel
you receive by the London packet, that you
will suffer such punishment first—and that
you know is impossible, Major; for my coun
trymen treat the king’s officers with the high
est respect when prisoners. Spies only are
hung and neither Washington nor yourself
arc likely to undertake that profession.”
It seemed ns if a spasm passed through
the frame of the officer, for he trembled for
an instant like a leaf, an incident which was
long after remembered by his fair companion
when mentioning his melancholy fate.
“ You are ill, Major. Let us go in.”
“No, no,” said he, faintingly; “it was but
a momentary nervous affection, and has now
passed.”
“There arc at times, Miss Beckman, pre
sentiments of evil in the human mind, that
come without real cause, and trouble us we
know not why, I cannot say but that physi
cal health is as good as it ever was. The
night is beautiful, and the scene within Sir
Henry’s mansion enchanting; but still there
is n heaviness about my spirits I cannot shake
off. I see a danger before me, yet know not
w here to guard against, or how to meet it.—
Though shadowy, it appears palpable and
distinct. Ah! that song.”
At this moment the silver tones of the
sentinel’s voice rang sweetly upon the ear
with the words of song we have mentioned.
Whilst thus engaged, the Major and his fair
companion suddenly appeared before him.—
In an instant his voice was hushed, and his
musket brought suddenly to “ present arms,”
as ho stood motionless in true military style
before his superior.
“ Nay, nay, Whitely, cease not your song,”
said the Major; “on such anight as this I
wonder not that you should like singing. I
will stand responsible to the sergeant for such
a breach of discipline.”
“ I should like much better to hear it in
full soldier,” said the lady.
“ 1 only know it, lady,” said the sentinel
"from hearing Major Andre sing it when I’ve
been on duty at his quarters. Perhaps he,
madam, will couseut to favor yon with it.”
“ Well, Miss Beckman, I will not deny yon,
but I cannot equal Whitley in the song, as
yon will soon hud out.”
He then commenced and sung with great
pathos and beauty. The calm splendor of
the uight, his pensive air, and the feeling
which he entered into the words of the song,
gave it great effect. As he concluded, he
was surprised to hear the exclamations,
“ Bravo Andre!” from numerous voices. In
fact he was surrounded by a goodly portion
of the ball room company, who had availed
themselves of a pause in the dance to visit
the garden.
“ Well done, Andre!’ said a stout and
portly gentleman in military costume, with a
large star on the breast of his coat, ‘you
shall hereafter bear the title of song master
as well as Ajutant General to bis Majesty's
troops in America. But, come, man—your
politeness and gayety seem to be on furlough
to-night. The Baroness dc Ruidascl has been
looking all round for her partner. Step in,
my dear fellow, step in. Miss Beckmen, will
you condescend to take my arm?”
“ I have been neglectful, Sir Henry, and
will go instantly and repair the wrong;’ said
Audre.
He entered the bull room and waltzed
with Lady Rcidascl, the wife of the Hessian
general, Burgoync’s second in command at
Saratoga. It was the last waltz and ball
room scene ever engaged in by Andre—the
night of the 19th of September, 1780.
The ball was over, the guests had depart
ed, and it was waxing towards daylight,when
Andre leit the private closet of Sir Henry
Clinton, and stood in the doorway looking
towards the Bowling Green.
“Now, ray dear Major;’said Sir Henry,
“I bid you adieu. May success attend your
efforts. If your interview with Arnold ter
minates as we have reason to expect, West
Point is ours, and a general’s commission
awaits John Andre. lie cautious, I entreat
you.”
“ Adieu, Sir ITenry—l go to serve ray
King and country. If I but 1 will
not say it. Sir, farewell.”
He shook the extended hand of Sir Hen
ry with emotion, and as he stepped into the
street, received for the last time the military
salutation of a British sentinel. He touched
his hat and passed on. At the water’s edge
he sprang into a boat, and was soon after on
the deck of the Vulture sloop-of-war, on his
way to his final interview with Arnold.
In a little more than ten days the high
minded soldier dangled on a gibbet.
His hopes of glory were forever closed in
the dust and ashes of the grave.
Lapland Experiences.
Bayard Taylor’s letters to the New York
Tribune, recording his experiences in Lapland,
arc quite spicy, as the following extracts will
show :
TAKING A VAPOR RATH WITH SERVANT GIRL
ASSISTANCE.
Mr. Wolley proposed to us another luxury,
in the shajie of a vapor bath, as Herr Fors
trom had one of those bathing houses which
are universal in Finland. It was a little
wooden building, without windows. A Fin
nish servant girl, who had been for some time
. engaged in getting it in readiness, opened the
floor for us. The interior was very hot and
j moist, like an Oriental bathing hall. In the
centre was a pile of hot stones, covered with
| birch boughs, the leaves of which gave out
an agreeable smell, and a large tub of water.
| The floor was strewn with straw, and under
1 ihe roof was a platform, extending across
j one cud of the building. This was covered
I with soft hay, and reached by means of a lad-
I der, for the purpose of getting the full effect
of the steam. Some stools, and a bench for
our clothes, completed the arrangements.—
There was also in one corner a pitcher of wa
ter, standing in a little heap of snow, to keep
it cool.
The servant girl came in after us, and Mr.
W. quietly proceeded to undress, informing
us that the girl was bathing master and would
do the usual scrubbing and shampoouing.—
This, it seems, is the general practice in Fin
land, and is but another example of the un
embarrassed habits of the people in this part
lof the world. The poorer families go into
i their bathing rooms together—father, mother
and children—and take turns in polishing
1 each other’s backs. It would have been ri
j diculous to have shown any hesitation under
i the circumstances—in fact, an indignity to
j the honest, simple-hearted, virtuous girl—and
so we deliberately undressed also. When, at
[ last, we stood like our first parents in Para
| disc, “nahed and not ashamed,” she handed
j us bunches of birch twiggs with the leaves on,
the use of which was suggested by the leaf of
sculpture. We mounted to the platform and
lay down upon our backs, whereupon she in
creased the temperature by throwing water
upon the hot stones, until the heat was rather
oppressive and we began to sweat profusely.
She then took up a bunch of birch twiggs
which had been dipped in hot water, and
switched us smartly from head to foot. When
we had become thoroughly par-boiled and lax,
we descended to the floor, seated ourselves
upon the stools, and were scrubbed with soap
os thoroughly as propriety (lerraittcd. The
girl was an admirable bather, the result of
long practice in the business. She finished
by pouring hot water over us, and then dry
ing us with warm towels. The Finns fre
quently go out and roll in the snow during
the progress of the bath. I ventured so far
as to go out and stand a few seconds in the
open air. The mercury was at zero, and the
effect of the cold upon my heated skin was
delightfully refreshing.
LESSONS IN DRIVING REINDEER.
Mr. W, sent for his reindeer in the course
of the morning, iu order to give us a lesson
in driving. After lunch, accordingly, we pre
pared ourselves for the new sensation. 1 put
on a poesk of reindeer skin, and my fur-lined
Russian boots. Ludwig took a pulk also, to
assist us iu case of need. These pulks are
shajied very much like a canoe; they are about
five feet long, one foot deep, and eighteen
inches wide, with a sharp bow and a square
stern. You sit upright against the stern
board, with your legs stretched out in the
bottm. The deer’s harness consists only of a
collar of reindeer skin around the neck, with
a rope at the bottom, w hich passes under the
belly, between the legs, and is fasted to the i
bow of the pulk. He is driven by a single j
rein, attatched to the base of the left horn,
and passing over the back to the right hand
of the driver, who thrusts his thumb into a j
loop at the cud,and takes several turns around
the wrist. The rein is held rather slack, in
order that it may bo thrown over to the right
side when it slips to the leit, which it is very i
apt to do.
I seated myself, took proper hold of the
rein, and awaited the signal to start. My ,
deer was a strong, swift animal, who had just
shed his horus. Ludwig set off first; my
deer gave a startling leap, dashed around the
corner of the house, and made down the hill, j
I tried to catch the breath which had been
jerked out of me, and to keep my balance, as
the pulk, swaying from side to side, bounced j
over the snow. It was too late; a swift pre-1
sentiment of the catastrophe flashed across
my mind, but I was powerless to avert it. In -
another second 1 found myself rolling in the j
loose snow, with the pulk bottom upward be
side me. The deer, who was attached to my
arm, was standing still, facing me, with an
expression of stupid surprise (but uotof sym
pathy) on his lace. I got up, shook myself,
righted the pulk, and commenced again. Oil’
we went, like the wind, down the bill, the
snow flying iu my face and blinding me. My
pulk made tremendous leaps, bounding from
side to side, until, the whirlwind suddenly
subsiding, I found myself off the road, deep
overhead in the snow, choked and blinded,
and with small snow-drifts in ray pockets,
sleeves, and bosom. My beard and eyebrow's
became instantly a white, solid mass, and my
face began to tingle, from its snow-bath; but
on looking back, I saw as white a beard sud
denly emerge from adrift, followed by the stout
body of Braistcd, who was gathering himself
up after his third ship-wreck. (Braistcd is
an old sailor.)
We took a fresh start, I narrowly missing
another overturn, as we descended the slope
below the house, but on reaching the level of
the Muonio, I found no difficulty in keeping
ray balance, and began to enjoy the exercise.
My deer struck out, passed the others, and
soon I was alone on the track. In tho gray
Arctic twilight, gliding noiselessly and swiftly
over the snow, with the low huts of Muonio
niska dimly seen in the distance before me, I
had ray first true experience of Lapland trav
eling. It was delightfully novel and exhila
rating; 1 thought of “Afraja,” and the song
of “Kulnasatz, my reindeer!” and Bryant’s
‘‘Arctic Lover,” and whatever else there is
of Polar poetry, and urged my deer with
shouts, and never once looked behind me un
til I had climbed the opposite shore and reach
ed the village. My companions wore then
nowhere to bo seen. 1 w aited some time be
fore they arrived, Braisted’s deer having be
come fractions and run back with him to the
house. His crimson face shone out from its
white frame of icy hair, as he shouted to
me: ‘‘There is nothing ccpial to this except
ridingtbehind a right whale when he drives to
windward, with every man trimming the boat,
and the spray flying over your bows.”
A Bad Fix.
Once on a time, in the village of B
and State of Massachusetts, lived a beaute
ous maiden of seventeen, whom we will call
Fanny L , and George B was her
accepted and devoted lover.
The course of true love ran smooth, and in
| due time they were married. This occurred
j one summer’s morning, and same day they
traveled cozily and happily together to New
I York as the lirst stage of their wedding tour.
As a companion du voyage, a younger brother
! of the bride, a mischievous young rascal of
i fifteen, accompanied them; ami well ii would
have been for the happy pair if they bud
trusted themselves to their own society, and
i left James at homo, to ornament dog’s tails
j and snow-ball the schoolmaster.
Well, the party arrived in the city and went
to the St. Nicholas Hotel. While George
: was duly attending to the comfort of his
young wife, James, in the performance of his
duties os groomsman, went to the office of the
hotel, to enter the names and select appro
priate apartments. IVu in hand, a brilliant
idea struck him, and in pursuance therewith,
he entered their several names on the register
| thus:
James L ,
Miss Fanny L ,
George B ,
and selected three rooms for their accommo
i dation.
Fanny retired early, being somewhat fa
! tigued with traveling. George smoked his
cigar for an hour or two, and dreamed of
his bachelorhood, we suppose, and final
ly requested to be shown to his apartment.
An obsequious waiter came, candle in hand,
j and asked what number it was.
“With the lady who came with me,’’George
j replied, slightly blushing.
The waiter smiled, hesitated, and then ap
proached an exquisitely dressed clerk, and
whispered in his ear.
The clerk stepped up to George and re
peated, “what room did you say, sir?”
“With the lady who arrived with me,”
Gecige answered again, now blushing to the
tips of his ears.
The clerk smiled, and shook his head as if
in pity of the unfortunate young man’s igno
rance.
| “It won’t do, sir; you have mistaken the
i house, sir. Such things are not allowed here,
; sir.”
“It won't do ! Why, I only wan’t to go
I to bed.”
“That yon may very certainly do—in your
own room, sir; but not in the lady’s apart
-1 ment, sir.”
“The lady's apartment! Why that lady
is my wife.”
The clerk bowed ironically.
“All very fine, sir, but it won't go down,
sir; here is the entry, sir.”
George looked at the register, and there
was the entry, sure enough: “Miss Fanny
L , George B .”
He saw the whole secret at a glance. Ho
protested and entreated—but it was of nonse.
He called on James to witness his veracity—
but James was nowhere to be found. The
by-standers laughed, and the clerk was inex
orable ; and the poor fellow was forced to re- ■
tire to his solitary chamber, to pass his bri
dal night invoking blessings on the whole!
class of “respectable houses” and younger
brothers.
How George justified his conduct to the
disconsolate Fanny, this veritable history
doth not state.
Scarcity ok Virgil . —A correspondent
of the San Francisco Chronicle, writing from
Acapulco, on the Tth of -May, says: “In a
procession last Sunday, where ten virgins l
were required to act as supporters to the Vir
gin Mary, only six could be found ; the Padre
bud confessed all the people of over fourteen
years in the town a week previous. What a
good show there is here for a moral reform
society.”
The squirrel jumps from branch to branch,
the flirt from beau to beau.
NUMBER 33.
Drytown Correspondence.
Drytown, Jane Ist, 1857.
Messrs. Editors; A want of water lias
about quieted the quartz mills iu this, vicinity,
and the proprietors seem well satisfied with
the profits of the season. Their success has
more than equaled their anticipations; their
added wealth, however, has wrought no fool
ish change upon the manner of the men.—
Sudden acquisition implanted no purse-proud
vanity in their bosoms; indeed, the quartz op
| erators in this vicinity are eminently practical
men, possessing all the characteristics per
taining to real worth in the moral and mental
elevation of society. Such men are worthy
of success, and to know they have it excites
no feeling of regret in this community.
Last week the Potiso Mill took out over
| four thousand dollars, being the result of
eleven days’ run. lam not posted iu regard
to the last run of the Webster and Hooper
mills, but presume they had their usual luck
and did well. The Emerald, I am informed,
paid fair wages this season and excited high
hopes for the next. The lead of the last is
but partu.uy opened, and the proprietors
think rich developements are yet to be made.
Mr. McGrady is about to leave for the At
lantic States. He will be missed from here,
as he no doubt long has been by those who
beckon him to his distant home By his en
ergy and unfaltering purpose, being coupled
with the wherewith to go ahead, the Emerald
Mill was erected ; and although he is about
to leave us, he leaves many warm friends be
hind.
Yesterday an attempt was made to rob a
company of Chinamen on Kancheria creek,
by some Spaniards, but they were foiled by
two Americans being near. They fled, and
although many men were soon in pursuit, no
arrest was made.
A Chinaman by the name of Ah Fong
stabbed another called Ah Foy yesterday, in
t lie street. The wound is considered danger
ous. Ah Fong and Ah Iloon are under ar
rest and will be examined to-day.
Yours, Homer.
Philosophy. —What is life? Life consists
of money, a 2.40 horse, and a fast wife.
What is death? A paymaster that settles
everybody’s debts, and gives tombstones as
receipts in full of all demands.
What is poverty? The reward of merit
genius and honesty generally receive from a
discriminating public.
What is religion? Doing unto others just
as you please, and not allowing them to re
turn the compliment.
What is fame? A six Hue puff in some
wishy-washy newspaper !
The Poetry of Bacon.—Pope, who was
very fond of the good things of this life, once
exclaimed, when expatiating at table on tho
excellence of ham :
“ Ham, sir, is the same improvement upon
bacon that steel is ugon iron; iu fact, sir, ham
is the poetry of bacon.''
The SIO,OOO paid to “e Mexican officer of
rank,” from the secret service fund, by Gen.
Scott, in Mexico, was, it seems, paid to no
less a personage than. Santa Anna himself.
A Lucky Man,—One of our exchanges
announces that a Mr. White, living iu Venice,
Pa., was recently murdered iu his own bed
by some one who wished to get his money.—
The editor adds that “ luckily Mr. White had
deposited his money in bank the day before.”
Mr. White lost nothing but bis life I
The man who was “moved to tears” com
plains of the dampness of the premises, and
wishes to be moved back again.
Why is a lady sweetest when she is just
out of bed in the morning ? Because then
she’s a-rose.
What rock did the angels roll against the
door of Paradise, after the expulsion of the
original inhabitants? An Adamantine (Ad
am-aint-in) rock.
A man who has no enemies is seldom good
for anything—he is made of that kind of ma
terial which is so easily worked that every
man has a hand in it.
Women have more power in their looks
than men have in their laws, and mure power
in their their tears than men have iu their
judgments.
Relieve misfortune quickly. A man is like
an egg—the longer he is kept in hot water tho
harder he is when he gets oat.
Simpsou says the ladies do not set their
I caps for the gentlemen any more ; they spread
their hoops.
A man went into a printing office to beg a
paper—“ Because we like to read newspapers
very much, but our neighbors are all too stin
gy to take one.”
The charm of good housekeeping is iu the
order, economy, and taste displayed in atten
tion to little tilings, and these little things
have a wonderful influence.
Mozart declared on his death-bed that he
had just “began to see what may be done iu
music.”
Bern NO is immoral; but how can the man
who bets be any worse than the man who is
no belter?
The Moslem creed divides hell Into seven
stories sunk one under the other, the lowest
being for the hypocrites of all nations.”
if you want to be respected, tho way the
world goes, keep yourself well dressed. Peo
ple never “wring the necks” of top-knot
chickens.