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THE JOV EX A I , IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING, BY SEAMAN it GORDON. Office on .Main St. nearly opposite St. Charles Hotel. Terms. —The Journal will bo furnished to sub scribers at the following rates : For one year $10 00 “ six months 5 00 “ three months 3 00 Advertisements conspicuously inserted on the following terms: One square, first insertion $1 00 For each subsequent insertion 2 00 IMS" A square consists of Ten lines, or less. A reasonable reduction from the above rates will be made to yearly advertisers. BOOK & JOB PRINTING. Having recently made large additions to our , stock of JOBBING MATERIALS, we are now prepared to execute every description of VLhm & fancy wiiwviwtt in the best style of the art, and with promptness and despatch. JT?i- Orders from abroad for Advertising or Job Printing, to ensure prompt attention, should in all cases be accompanied with the Casu. ft r 1 1 c t c b $j O f t X S i Phalanx’s Footsteps. Tf you ask ub whence this thunder? Whence that thunder from tlie mountains? And that echo from the City Near the hay of San Francisco? We would answer, most politely, ’Tis the voice of Uwinawatha, ’Tis the voice of llrudericaniu. In Convention Democratic, Called by ordes of Committee, Met the sons of “rule or ruin,” Met the friends of Uwinawatha, Met the hosts of llrudericaniu. In the one-horse town Column. There it was the great harmonious, The unterrilled Democracy, Swore upon a mighty altar, Swore by many a “mighty dollar,” Swore at Broderick, swore at Gwin, Then at each other and everything! And they called this swearing music, Little dreaming that they’d hear it Winding round among the foothills, Echoed hack from San Francisco. But the harp of El Dorado Is the harp of San Francisco, Is the harp of l’halanxania, Is the harp of California, And when they touch its mighty strings, And join themselves in chorus, They think it music! others ask, ICind friends, “was it thunder?” A I.oxu Fellow. Placcrville .1 meric an. A New Song. NY G. I’. MoKBlS. Thank God far pleasant weather ! Chant it, merry rills ! And clap your hands together, Ye exulting hills! Thank Hint, teeming valley ! Thank him, fSiitlul plain ! For the golden sunshine, And the silver ruin. Thank God of Good the Giver ! Shout, sportive breeze! 'Respond, oh tuneful river! To the nodding trees. Thank llim, bud and birdling ! As ye grow and sing 1 Mingle in thanksgiving Every living thing! Thank God, with cheerful spirit, in a glow of love, For what we here inherit, And our hopes above !— Universal Nature Revels in her birth, When God, in pleasant weather, •Smiles upon the earth. A COUNTRY EDITOR tllildiS tllilt ColltlllbuS is not entitled to much credit for discover ing America, us tiie country is so large that he could not well have missed it. ««. Wiiy is a cow’s tail like tlie letter F ? Ans.—Becuuse it’s the end of beef. • fy * Impertinent. — Lady (in fashionable dress) ‘ Little boy, can 1 go through this gate to the river V Boy —‘ Perhaps. A load of hay went through this morning.’ Do i.ADips who wear hoops know that they were first invented by an unmarried wo man, who had lost her virtue, and who re sorted to hoops to hide her shame? Do they know, too, that a hooped dress sug gests the idea that some such circumstance • has caused its adoption ? Will they discard the ridiculous barrel-ism, when they learn that i 1|C rei-httl of the foolish fashion is ow ing to the ’ ji.'iteffsting’ situation of the Em press of France ? The tear of a loving’ & ir ‘> Wa:scr > from the German, is like tin? dew-drop on the rose; but that on the cheek o.‘ a ‘ vifo a drop of poison to her husband. Appear cheerful and contented, and your husband will be so; aud when you have made him happy, you will become so, not in appear ance, but in reality. The skill required is not so great. Nothing (latters a man so much as the happiness of his wife; lie is al ways proud of himself as the source of it. Herein is contained my happiness; my husband is my best companion, my children arc my jewels, my house is my home, aud no earthly pleasure excels that of considering it a domestic happiness —a center of attraction to my family, so that they are nowhere else happy; a place, too, of welcome and grate ful reception to the stranger. WEAVERVILLE, TRINITY COUNTY, CAL.. SATURDAY MORNING, IIARC 11 Y2 \m. The following ‘ Interview between the ed itor of the San Diego Herald and Phoenix,’ we take from the above work, lately pub lished : ‘ The Thomas Hunt had arrived, she lay at the wharf at Xcw Town, and a rumor had reached our curs that “ the ‘Judge’ was on board. Public anxiety had been excited to the highest pitch to witness the result of the meeting between us. It had been sta ted publicly that ‘ the Judge’would whip us the moment he arrived ; but though we thought a conflict probable, we had never been very sanguine as to its terminating in this manner. Coolly we gazed from the win dow of the Office upon the New Town road ; we descried a cloud of dust in the distance ; high above it waved a whip lash, and we said, ‘ the. Judge’cometh, and ‘his driving is like that of Jehu the son of Nimshi, for lie driveth furiously.’ Calmly we seated ourselves in the ‘ arm chair,’ and continued our labors upon our magnificent Pictorial. Anon, a step, a hea vy step was heard upon the stairs, and ‘ the J udge’ stood before us. ‘In shape and gesture proudly eminent, stood like a tower : but his face deep scars of thunder had entrenched, and care sat on his faded check ; but under brows of dauntless courage and considerate pride, waiting revenge.’ We rose, and with an unfalteripg voice said : ‘Well, Judge, how do you do V He made no reply, but commenced taking off his coat. We removed ours, also our cravat. The sixth and last round, is described by the pressmen and compositors, as having been fearfully scientific. We held ‘ the Judge’down over the Press by our nose (which we had inserted between his teeth for that purpose,) and while our hair was employed in holding one of his hands, we held the other in our left, and with the ‘ sheep’s foot’ brandished above our head, shouted to him, ‘ say Waldo,’ 1 Never !’ lie gasped— Oh! my Bigler lie would have muttered. But that he •dried up,’ ere the word was uttered. At this moment, we discovered that we had been laboring under a ‘ misunderstand ing,’ and through the amicable intervention of the pressman, who thrust a roller between our faces (which gave the whole affair a very different complexion,) the matter was finally settled on the most friendly terms— ‘ and without prejudice to the honor of ei ther party.’ We write this while sitting without any clothing, except our left stock ing, and the rim of our hat encircling our neck like a ‘ ruff’ of the Elizabethan era— that article of dress having been knocked over our head at an early stage of the pro ceedings, and the crown subsequently torn off, while the Judge is sopping his eye with cold water, in the next room, a small boy standing beside the sufferer with a basin, and glancing with interest over the adver tisements ou the second page of the San I>i ego lleruld, a fair copy of which was struck off upon the back of his shirt, at the time we held him over the Press. Thus ends our description of this long anticipated person al collision, of which the public can believe precisely as much as they please ; if they please ; if they disbelieve the whole of it, we shall not be at all offended, but can sim ply quote as much to the point, what might have been the commencement of our epi taph, had we fallen in the conflict, ' lltKK TilKS Ph<exix.” [From thu same.] The following is from the Ran Diego Her ald under the Admiustratiou of 'Phoenix : ‘ As an incident ftf the election we are told that late in the afternoon an elderly gentleman, much overcome by excitement and spirituous potations, was found like Pe ter ‘ weeping bitterly,’ as lie reclined on the cold cold ground, behind the Court House. ‘ Pm an old man, gentle-?«c»,’ sobbed he, — and a poor old man, and a d d ugly old man, and I’ve gone and voted for Bigler !’ ‘ Weil, you have done it,’ remarked one of the crowd, and with this expression of sym pathy, the unhappy old fellow was left to the stings of his conscience. A melancholy instance of misplaced attachment. [ditto!] jarWc carelessly threw a bucket of water from our oftico door the other day, tho most of which fell upon an astonished Spaniard, sitting upon his Jiorse, before the Colorado House, lie made the brief remark. * Curttjo ,’ meaning that we were courageous, and on observing his stalwart form, and the ferocity of his expression and moustach es, wc thought wc were. OITVOTKI) r ro THE [KTEBE8T8 OP TIMMTY COUNTY. Phcenixiana. Never ! 11Y C.KORlJK W. LTTTER. I ina;/be asked, as 1 have beta asked, when I am for the dissolution of tlic Union ? I answer, never, neve-r, never Hunky Ci.ay. Von ask me when I\1 rend the scroll Our father's names are written o’er, When I would see our Hug unroll Its mingled slurs and stripes no more ; 1\ lien, w ith a worse than felon hand Or felon counsels, 1 would sever The I’ulon of this glorious land 1 answer—never, never, never! Think ye that I could brook to see The banner I have loved so long Horne piece-meal o'er the distant sea Torn, trampled by a frenzied throng— Divided, measured, parcelled out Tamely surrendered up forever To gratify a soulless rout Of traitors? never, never, never ! Give up this land to lawless might, To Hellish fraud and villiau sway, Obscure those hopes with endless night That now are rising like the day ; A\ rile one more pag’isif burning shame To prove the useless, vain endeavor, Our race from ruin to reelitn, And close the volume ? never, never,never ! On yonder lone, and lovely steep, '1 he sculptor's art, the builder’s power ! A land mark o’er the soldier’s sleep, Have reared a lofty funeral tower There it will stand until the river That flow s beneath shall cease to flow, Aye, till that hill itself shall quiver \\ ith nature’s last com tilsive throe. Upon that column's marble base, That shaft that soars into the sky, There still is room enough to trace The countless millions yet to die— And 1 would cover all its height, And breadth, before that hour of shame, Till space should fail whereon to w rite liven tlie initials of a name.* Dissolve the Union! mar, remove The last asylum that is known, Where patriots find a brother's love, And truth limy shelter from a throne ; Give up the hopes of high renow n, The legacy our fathers will'd-- Tear our victorious eagles down Before their mission is fulfilled— Dissolve the Union ! while the earth Mas yet a tyrant to be slain ; Destroy our freedom in its birth And give the. world to bonds again Dissolve the I'nion ! God of Heaven! We know too well how much it cost ; A million bosoms shall be riven Before one golden link is lost. Nay, spread aloft our banner folds. High as the heavens they resemble, That every race this planet holds Beneath their shadow may assemble ; And with the rainbow's dazzling pride, Our clouds that burn along the skies, Inscribe upon its margin w ide lion:, FtsnunoM, Union, Compkomihk. *Mr. Clay's \ cry words as he pointed to the mon , uraent that stands upon the height near Frank fort, above the slain of Buena Vista, including the I remains of his own son. Strong Minded Women.— The follwiugis from a writer for the Golden Era: 1 have long wished to give vent to my ideas about these ladies. Respect for the sox has hitherto kept me silent; but as no personal otVencc is meant, and the ladies themselves have by their own ‘net and deed’ stepped forward and challenged public criti cism, I do think l may put in my say with out being accused of a want of courtesy, more especially since 1 believe 1 am right in iny supposition -that the Constitution of this free country allows every man, as well as woman, not only to have an opinion, but to express it also. 1 never was very intimately acquainted with any of the so-called ‘strong minded,’ and, 1 was going to add, that 1 never wished to be—politeness, however, forbids me but I have watched their conventions and their proceedings, have weighed the rights that they claim against the rights conceded to them as theirs, and only theirs, and, indeed, taken every precaution not to bring down the thunder of my wrath upon them w ithout due and impartial consideration. I deny in toto their right and title to the term ‘strong minded.’ My idea of a strong minded woman is very different to the usual acceptation of the term. Of course, if some are held forward us strong minded, it must be in cantrast to others, and then others must he w'eak minded. If these masculine, gad about, lecturing women are the strong minded of the sex, then the weak must be those w hose devotedness to unhappy, fallen man is so great that no change of time or fortune can change their heart, no worldly attraction or notoriety force them from his side, hut make home their sphere—the sphere appointed them by their Creator -(and a good woman cun make the lowest, humblest home a palace) and by their example and loving disposition—not by their lectures— reclaim and reform the erring, advance and support the dignity of their sex, and become as nearly angels of light and goodness as it is possible for mortals in this world to he. My mother, unfortunately for myself, died when I was an infant, and I was, of course, too young to entertain the least persoual re membrance of her; but from childhood to my present hour, during more than thirty years of chances and changes of life, in sun shine and cloud, in happiness and sorrow, in prosperity and misfortune, she ever has been repeatedly in my most affectionate recollec tion, and I now feel thankful, grateful that I can think of her as die was, a ministering angel of love and goodness in her own mild but infallible manner to all around her—for I do not believe 1 oould have as much re spect and undying love for her memory, if 1 had to look upon her as having been pue who, by her talented advocacy of woman’s rights and most learned lectures, had gained unbounded celebrity as a ‘strong minded woman.’ * * * * * * I appeal to husbands, brothers, and lovers, would you—although you may, for novelty or amusement, attend lectures or conven tions, and when there express approbation or applause— would you like your wife, your sister, or the object of your devoted affections, to be this publielv-exhibited and highly up pkiuded strong minded female? Would you not, husband, rather that your wife should be held up as a pattern of domestic virtue, that, having left all others and cleaving unto you, she should make your cares hers, study the happiness of you and yours, and so dis guise and ameliorate the trials and troubles of this life, that yon, her husband, shall praise her, and her children will rise up and call her blessed? Brothers, would you not rather that your i sisters should he renowned fortheiraffection ! ate devoteduess to their parents and sisterly 1 love to'yourselves, than for the rapturous ap plnu.se which greets their appearance on the platform of woman’s rights? Lovers, can you bear the idea of having the one dearest to you appearing in public as a political deelaimer and an advocate of those rights which, if conceded, will, l fear, j forever destroy that charming halo of siin i plicity and modesty, which now surrounding i lovely woman, makes her the adorable being that she is? Would you not rather that she possess this simplicity and modesty, and those innate angelic virtues which, while they do not seek thunders of applause from a crowded audieuce, do most assuredly, imperatively command the utmost respect anil admiration el all aye, even those who are lo t to vir tue and self-respect themselves.- Modesty. A IIhamatio Episodic. Tim Boston Sat urday Gazette a capital paper, hy-the-by — is responsible for the following: A pretty*young actress attached to one of our theatres lias been in the habit of re ceiving every evening for some time past say a couple of months - a I roquet, composed principally of violets. She found it waiting' for her at the stage door whenever she en tered the theatre, and as a matter of course before long site felt all a woman's curiosity , ns regarded the donor, while at the same time this mute homage of concealed admira tion touched her heart. She made it her study when not engaged with the business of the scene, to look around the house and endeavor to distinguish the incognito, but in vain. She could fix her eye upon no one to whom she could attribute the mysterious presents, (Consequently she exercised her imagination. It may not be generally known that actresses lia/e imaginations. She queried whether the inconnu were nu illus trious foreigner, or a timid artist. She asked the stage door-keeper, the carpenters, and even the basket boys, but all in vain. All professed entire ignorance of the visitor. Still the boqucls came constantly. ‘And yet they tell us that man’s constancy is a chimera!’ murmured the actress to her self. A night or two since she received the cus tomary boquet and with it a uote. ‘At last!’ exclaimed she. She opened the note and read as follows: * Miss .» 1 have loved you for a long time, for i it not the saute to see you and to love you? I visit the theatre every evening, to admire you, to applaud you, to gaze ul your bril liant eyes, to listen to your silvery voice— ’ ‘ Alt! he’s in the theatre, thought the ac tress. This time 1 sliun’t miss him.’ \ on are indeed beautiful uitd fascinating, and happy are they who dure approach you. \\ hat would l not give to be near you con stantly. Would all the treasures of the earth compensate for one of your smiles? Never!’ ‘ Very pretty indeed,’ thought the ac tress.’ ‘ Nevertheless 1 dare to love you, to tell you so. 1 even ask you to receive my hom age.’ ‘ Alt,’ thought the actress, ‘he's going to explain himself. Now I shall know.’ ‘ If my profession of love does not displease you, when you go on the stage wear the bo (piet of violets upon your bosom. Then 1 shall !>e the happiest of men.’ ‘ No signature!’ mentally exclaimed the actress. ‘No name! Ah! a postscript!— let us see.’ ‘ ft’ >'<"1 are curious to know who it is that writes to you, look at the front row of the gallery. You man know me bit my legs dang ling over the iron railing.' They do say that the note went into the green-room lire very quickly, ami that the actress " as uncommonly taciturn during the evening. —w One half of the would knows not what THE OTHER HALF SVFFER.- A few days since I accompanied a friend on her round of charily. One of the scenes l witnessed 1 will describe to you. In an attic, uuplas tered, with one w indow half hid by an old skirt, no furniture but the bed, one chair, and an old tashioued trunk, we saw two young girls actually dying of starvation and cold, they having no tiro or even a place to make one. They had been in this state of destitution nearly two weeks when their con dition was happily made known to those who made it their business to seek out the distressed, llolh were young, and the old est one, in spite of the pinching that cold and hunger had given her features, had the sweetest and most innocent face that it has ever been my lot to look upon. They were much emaciated, not sutl'enng from any kind of disease but hunger. Think ot it, my young friends, two' young girls within the bustle of a rich and. populous city, actually dying of hunger. Their story is this: Early bereft of a kind mother, their father, a cold, harsh man, ever looked upon them as incumbrances, and moths that would cal up his fortune, for lie "as rich. They lived in St. Martin's lane, London, where he owned one of the largest and best picture galleries in that great city. He also painted land-capes, which talent w as inherited by his eldest sou. Marrying short ly after his wife’s death, the . Icp mother treated the children with n great deal of se verity, and turned their father more against them than ever. Knowing that by the laws of England, the eldest son could claim all the estate, she persuaded her husband to come to America, landing on its shores with some thousands of pounds. This, by artful machinations, the wife had made over to her. No sooner did she get pos ei.sion of the deeds than -.he cnuuucuc d to tvrani/.e over both lather and < hildreu, until ut last the repentant man Mink under accumulated woe , leaving his children penniless among stran gers. The eldest hoy endeavored to make a living by painting, but not being very pro ficient in his art, lie found difficulty in di posing of his productions. The eldest girl, being an accomplished musician, endeavored to obtain :eholars; but being very reserved and retiring in di-po itiou, slm relinquished the idea, idler she had met with one or two failures, thus, a nearly blind brother and two sisters were dependent entirely for sup port upon the poor hind cape painter. I liey could not pay full board, so thought it best to rent a room, and cook for them selves. This they tried, hut found that of tentimes they had not money to pav the rent, which the landlord exacted, much less any, thing to eat. From one stage to another they went, until at last they were glad to liial a shelter from driving storms, in the miserable attic where we found them, having taken it with the proviso thut Kiev were to sit by the Irish woman’s fire. Not having anything to eat they soon became too weak tq go up ami down stairs. They went to bed, praying that they might die, rather than live such a miserable life. We immediately supplied their present "ants, and obtained u nurse to attend them until sufficiently able to bo removed. For several nays we had them attended to, da ring which the other ladies had called to see them, one of which was so much pleased with the oldest girl that she offered to take her into her own house and provide her a home if she would give her children musical instruction. This the poor girl gladly ac cepted provided something could be. done for her sister, who was subject to partiul de rangement. A permit was granted, and the youngest found a home in llellevue huspital until she wn entirely recovered. The bliml brother gained admittance in the bliudiasii tide, whilst tile oldest one strives to ecru a livelihood by his beautiful urt. \\ it Liu one mile of these scenes of suffer ing, the woman that has been the cause of all, rolls in luxury bought by the ill-gotten wealth that has made the helpless orphans feel the stinging cold and gnawings of hun ger. .May her eyes be opened to the full extent of Hie gross injustice she lias prac tised upon them, and restitution ho made, ere the hour comes when gold and jewels will avuil her nothing, and she is ushered into the presence of an injured God, to re ceive the Bculeiieo for deeds done in the body, yew Ycr!; l>iA, A Stray Advertisement. AYunted, a hand to hold ray own, As down life's vale I glide: V anted, an arm to lean upon, Forever by my side. AY allied, a linn and steady foot, With Stops secure and free. do take iis straight and onward pace Over life's path with me. Wanted, a form erect and high; A head above my own, So much that 1 might walk beneath Its shadow o’er me thrown. Wanted, an eye, within whose depths Mine own might look and see rprMngs from a guileless heart, O’ertiown with love for me. Wanted, a lip, whose kindest smile Would speak for me alone; A voice, whose richest melody AN ould breathe affection’a tone. AA anted, a true religious soul, To pious purpose given; A\ ith whom mine own might pass along The road that lends to Heaven. What an Luka! A fiwhiouahle young liuly, hearing ol'Coleridge's Aids to Itettection, wished to Know if they wcru toilette candles I IKK ON Ills Koaii Homk. Among tho passengers who left on the Golden date, on Wednesday last, wo noticed n son of the ‘State of Pike,’ whoso wardrobe was any thing; but la'hiotnihlo, ami whoso hut in par ticular to say uothing of his unshaven face attracted the attention of many an idle looker-on. At last, finding himself the ‘ob served of till observers, ’ he enquired, in a very Tike ish’ maimer, ‘What the h—1 nro yi r lookin’ at didn’t yer never see an hon e l miner afore? 1 luiin’t a grizzly bear nor any other four-legged varmint, but a uative ol old l’ike, and l huiu’t ushumed to own it, eirttcr.’ This speech, us might lie ex pected, brought down the applause of tho crowd, which made the limn with the ‘shock ing bud lint' loci a little ‘goodish’ und quite communicative, and on being asked by a fouler in the crowd why he didn’t get a bet tor hat to go home with, answered in about theso Words: Will, boys, as my old hat seems t< i give you a great deal of trouble, I will tell you why 1 wear it. I am not jo king when I tell you l am u bred-and born sou ol "Id Kike,’ in the State of Missouri. 1 wu.i retired in a comfortable log-cabin in that county, anil had as kind and good an old mother us ever lived. Well, when I first talked of going In California, the old woman went on u good deal, and tried to get the notion out ot my head; bid she found it was no use, for go 1 would, when, like a kind soul, ns she was, she Set about getting mo up n decent out lit for (lie journey across tho Plains. \\ hen all my ‘traps’ had been col- I" it'd, it was found that a new hat was about the only article that would require an outlay ol money, but as there was 'nary red’ about the premises with which to buy one, the prospect was by no means flattering, and I determined to start off next day bare headed, or nearly so; hut the old woman was determined that I shun,Ul liuve a new hat, and to work she went to make me one. All that night the old woman was busy sew ing and packing, while I was taking a. fare well snooze beneath tho roof of the old cab in. Well, morning came, anti up I got, and the first tiling I saw was a bran-new hat ly ing on the table—und what do you think lie made it out of? Why, out of an old coat which a Methodist preacher left at tho cabin a year before through mistake—and this i putting hii hand upon it) is the samo hat, and I have worn it eveiy day, in sun shine and ruin, since the 10th day of April, 184it, the day 1 left for California, and 1 in tend to wear it until l reach my old home in ‘Kike,’because I told the old women l would, and 1 will. I wouldn’t part w ith it lor its weight in gold. We have seen many upsund-dows together, and when I reach home and settle for life, I'll get a new hat and hang this one behind the door, ami will never look at it without thinking of Califor nia and her rich mines, from which, thank fortune, I have got about all 1 care for.’— Another shout of applause followed this speech, and several voices cried out ‘ You’re a trump, old fel—come and take a drink!’ The stearin r w as soon off, and the back of this honest (we’ll hut lie is honest) fellow was turned upon the crowd forever.—Gul den Era, Fanny Fern says that man’s shedding tears is an infringement on woman’s water privileges. --»«< Ou> Worthy says he likes to see young ladies walking tho streets on Sunday in their silks with holes in their socks, as it proves they are more attentive to things above than things below. NO. !).