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the journal IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MOUM.NO, BY' SEAMAN A. GOltDOJN. Office on Main St. nearly opposite St. Charles Huh!. Terms.— The Journal will be 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 $4 00 For each subsequent insertion 2 00 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 JOBB1XG MATERIALS, we are now prepared to execute every description of PLAm&f’ANCYf* a i n v * m & in the best style of the art, and with promptness and despatch. jT-fJ' Orders from abroad for Advertising or Job Printing, to ensure prompt attention, should in all cases be accompanied with the Cash. “Ella.” IIV Mils. M. C. ORAX\is£* Like a rose-bud half unfolded. As a gem of matchless worth ; With a form ia beauty moulded, Came our little one to earth. Soon the ‘ Rose Bud’ drooped and languish From our hearts the‘Gem’was torn ; [od, We beheld—oh ! bitter anguish ! ‘ Form of Beauty’ from us borne ! Mourning souls, now sadly grieving O’er the grave of bured Love ; Look aloft! in faith believing, See thy treasure shrined above ! There thy ‘ Bud' blooms on for ever, There thy ‘ Gem, - a star become, Shines with fadeless lustre ever, In that glorious Heavenly Home! •• • __ The editor of the Boston Liberator calls upon the ladies of the North to make use of nothing that is produced by slave labor. The Louisville Journal says he needn’t ex pect them not to use cotton. They will not expel so old a friend from their bosoms. An exchange has the following notice of a brief street colloquy recently held between a maiden lady of a little beyond a certain age and a newly married feminine “So you are going to keep bouse, are you ?’ said the elderly maiden. ‘ Yes,’ was the reply. ‘ Going to have a girl, I suppose ?’ was queried , The newly made wife blushed and quietly responded, that ‘she really didn’t know whether it would be a girl or boy.’ jggg'-'Thoy don’t make as good mirrors as they used to,’ remarked an old maid, as she observed a pair of sunken eyes, and wrin kled face, and livid complexion in a glass that she usually looked into. Poor old inaid, she would not see that she was growing old and withered, lint why jeer at her? Are we not all growing old, and does not the mirror tell a sad tale to us all? It is a solemn thing to know that wo are no longer young, that the bloom of youth has passed away, and w ith it the pure fresh feelings of tins heart. I Syr on said it was the saddest feeling of his life when ho knew he was no longer a boy. Such a time conies to us all—when we aw ake from the dream of youth and find the realities of life upon us. The first gray hair, the first wrinkle, is ever an unwelcome visitor to maid or matron. — We cling to youth, and will not believe that it is gone. But they are wisest who accept life ns it comes, and grieve not for that which is irrecoverable. There is no sadder sight on earth than to see man or woman resisting with terror the approach of age, vainly striv ing to hide its ravages and with one foot in the grave still looking back to earthly things. Poor old maid ! let us pity her; but she is too sad a spectacle, and too nearly repre sents us all, to be made much fun of.—E.r cJui nge. -*-* - *—W JiciTAPii on a San Francisco money lender: Here lies old thirty .hoc per cent. The more he made, the more ho lent ; The more he got, the more ho craved ; The more he made, the more lie saved. Great God ! Can suck a soul be saved 1 “ On that this were the lips of the divine angelic wearer, and the golden chords of love would ever encircle our hearts as this beau tiful emblem of industry encloses the fair hu ger of the owner ; and- ” “ Boss, jis please frow dat flmble in de en try ; I jis drap it !” said a big, Cat, ugly, black wench, looking out of the upper win dow'. W Ives who do not try to keep their hus bands will lose them. A man does the ' courting’ before marriage, and the wife must do it tifter, or some other woman will. If iioxfst hex are the salt of the earth, wetty girls nmy be said to be its sugar DEVOTED TO THE TN'OTESTS OF THTNITY COUNTY. AVEAVEEV1LLE. TRINITY POINTY. PAL. SATURDAY MORNAG. APRIL 12 is.lii. Will there be Flowers in Heaven, Mamma? — Brightly the suu of a clear, cold December day shed its slant rays through the half-closed blinds of a sick room, glow ing - upon the rosy curtains, and playing in fantastic shape upon the carpet, but baought no gladness to the sorrowing hearts of the mourners there. A mother sat, with bowed head and breaking heart, by the bedside of her darling first-born son; and that dark eyed little girl moved slowly about the room, gazing thoughtfully for a while into the bright fire, then kissing the pale cheek of her brother, and wondering ‘how long he | would sleep.’ For hours he had lain with | closed eyes and white lips, and a breath so short ami low that it scarce stirred the | white cover. The fever had left him, but nature was exhausted, and they told us that our Charlie must die. Sunlight faded, and in the gray twilight wo sat watching the little one passing so gently from our circle. At last the eyes slowly opened, and a soft voice spoke the sweet words— ‘Mother, how long till summer time?’ ‘Six months, my darling.’ ‘Then your Charlie will not see the flow ers again. Don’t cry, mamma, I must go pretty soon, but 1 wish 1 could see the flow ers once more. Will there be any in heav j on? Kiss me, mamma; cousin Amy, good | night, sweet sleep’—and Charlie was with ! the angels. Then wo crossed his white hands over his still heart, and smoothed back the golden curls from his pure temples, and they laid our faded lilly upon the stain less snow. Our boy was too frail and fair for earth, and God has taken him to a ho lier clime. Yes, there arc (lowers in heaven, sweet child; such flowers as thou. Their tender petals cannot bear our wintry winds, so an gels gather them, and they go to bloom in fadeless beauty in the garden of our Father in heaven. Day Dreams. —The poet tells us that tiie visions of the night are— “less beguiling far, Than waking ilreams by daylight are,’’ and the day dreamer has always been con sidered a useless being, who goes stumbling j through the world with his eyes half shut. Wordsworth tells of one who would ‘‘hunt j half a day for a forgotten dream,” and we once knew a man who when about his daily I business was usually in so deep a reverie that j to arouse his attention it was necessary to j shake him. Such individuals seldom accom plish much. Castle-building is not a profit j able speculation, however pleasing it may be to the young. ‘Fife is real,’ and those, ; who would make the most of it must be very thoroughly in earnest, lie who dreams in I the daytime will be likely to have cause for sleepless nights. If, as Fcstus says, ‘we live in deeds, not years,’ it follows that he who dreams away his time does not live at 1 all. And yet there is a contemplative element in mau’s nature which it is well to indulge, lie is a being who ‘looks before and after,’ and the poet tells us, “we are such staff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.” We arc all the better for a little occasion al inward life, spent in reviewing the past, planning for the future, and contemplating our state and being. For this want nature seems to have set apart a portion of the twenty-four hours—a time which is neither day nor night, but which unites the pleasing qualities of both. How sweet are the 're collections of twilight hours, spent by the dimly burning fire, in the homo of childhood. It is a holy time, snatched from daylight and darkness and consecrated to quiet joys and peaceful thoughts. Then tender thoughts come through the gloom, Soft-footed, like the dew, And falling on the withered heart, All its lost bloom renew. Stoves and gas-lights are driving the joys of twilight from our homes, which is not a pleasant thing to think of. The glare of gas but ill replaces the dusky glow of the red fire light, that was wont to cheer our twi light dreamings, and we leap from day light to gas light without a pause. We may ac complish more, but do we enjoy as much? ~ 11 - — A Case of Que.n Saue.— A correspon dent of the Mountain Messenger says : ‘ Green Forest’ further tells us, * woman viewed in her natural state Is not comely.’— 1 would like to know how lie found that out. So should we ! The only instance in which we remember of having ‘ viewed her in her natural state” was the accidental, and alto gether undesigned, surprisal of a Digger w o man pounding acorns. Can t suy that the lady in question was overly captivating.— Sierra Citl'en. The Old Man’s Dream. BY JE AN ME. Tlio olil man sits in his oaken chair, By tile ingle-side to day, With his wrinkled brow and his frame so Weak, "N ith his palsied limbs and his sunken cheek, And his locks so thin and gray. And he gazes long at the ruddy blaze. As it curls and flickers and glows, And lie seems to see in its changeful light. The forms that the years in their rapid lliglit Have borne to their death-repose. There eoineth the form of a maiden fair, W itli laughing, mischievous eyes ; lie hath never lieheld such another pair. And the love-light soft that lie stadli there Seems borrowed from out the skies. And she wreatheth a smile with her ruby lips, Such as ne'er another hath done, And she eometli again as she did of yore, And bendeth low o’er his forehead hoar, As she did in the days long-gone. And she twiueth her arms w ith a lov ing embrace Round bis neck, as she presseth a kiss With her glowing lips on his agtd brow, And the slirivoiled old man i.- young again now . Living over rich seasons of bliss. And then there eometli a tiny form, And shareth his kind oaiv.-s. And his heart ycarnetli over the tiny one, As a father yearns over his first-born son, And pruyoth kind Heaven to bless. And it clmngeth again, and a prattling boy Is nestled upon his knee, And other w ee forms are around him now, And pride sits enthroned on the old man's brow, As he lists to their childish glee. The beautiful maiden, w ith laughing eves, Is the wife of Ids earlj years, And the tiny one was his oldest child. And that prattling group that his is art beguil’d Are the babes of his prayers and tears. Hut the lire burns low ami dimness steals O’er the old man's vision now , And there eometli the shape ol the bier and pall. And his fond I \ -loved wile and his children all Are shrouded beneath il now. The flame dies out, and a stifled groan Hursts forth from the oft? man's heart. The vision hath lied lie's awake again, A lonely old man, with anguish and pain. Awaiting hiseall to depart. »<* • SlT.XR ON Till'. AUHIVAI. OP \ Sit Wil l:. I’aimti. Inhiiknt. A writer for tlio Sun Francisco Town Talk g ivos the following in oident in connection with the arrival of the Atlantic Steamer : The arrival of each .steamer, with its liv - ing freight, unravels some secret story of the man) 7 adventurers who seek our shores in hopes to retrieve lost fortunes or linda home. The sight of the steamer, as she ploughs up our beautiful Hay, is a beacon of hope to some, and a chilling disappointment to oth ers — tears of joy are shed over a reunion o friends and relatives and tears of bilterne.-s over blighted hopes anil sad disappointments There is notan emotion of which thehunnu breast is susceptible but may be witness,., on such an occasion. There is no nioiv touching scene than the reunion of husbnni niid wife- parent or child, or lover and be trothed—that occurs on every arrival. The fond embrace as they rush into each other's anus—the warm greeting and the hearty welcome tell of joy and gladness brought h a hearth that has been lone, and desolate. All is joy, smili s and mirth. But this is but one side of the picture. How many are doomed to sad disappoint ment and the deepest anguish. How many who leave the States buoyed up with the liopt that they will meet a fond relative, and tint on arrival that tho sod covers the only out who was near and dear to them. A painfu ease of this kind occurred on board the So nora on her last trip up. A beautiful young girl, the betrothed o' a young man in the mines, sailed from .Vew - 'l nrk to join her intended, to w hom she vva to be united on her arrival, By letter Ik had arranged to meet her at the w harf on the arrival of the steamer, when the ceremo ny was to lie performed, and then “ hand in hand, like Adam and live in Paradise, lie was to lead her to the home his labor and toil had prepared for her in the mountains, where, as his letters said, “lie had planted the flower.; that she loved, and the treesth.it in her childhood .she was accustomed to, that she might have home associations around her even iu the distant west.” She came in the joy of her youth to meet the companion of her childhood, and the choice of her maturer womanhood, for a part ner through life. He w as her life, her hope, her “ fountain from which her current ran or else dried up,” and for whom she had left father, mother and home, determined in her mind, like devoted Ruth, that "his home should be Iter home,” that wheresoever he “ was buried, there would she also be bur ied.” But what a sad reverse there is to this picture. The vessel neared the quay, but her eye sought in vain for the object of her scrutinizing search—the crowd rushed on board,but be came not—there was the warm welcome—the congratulations of friends, the bustle and confusion incident to the occa sion ; But she heeded it not—her anxiety in creased, till a strange foreboding of some mischance took possession of her mind. At length the passengers had nearly all left, when a (ranger approached and inquired if her name was Ada—and being satisfied of her identity, he presented her with n letter, tthe last poor Tom ever wrote.) It bore traces of deep anguish, and was evidently written while life was ebbing fast. It ran thus : “ My dearest Ada—I devote the last mo ment of mv life to write this. I am the vic tim of an unfortunate accident, and shall live but a short time. You came to be my bride, and will hear ot my funeral. 1 suffer a pang greater than death in the thought of your desolate condition among strangers, and have made it a dying request of my friend ti to take my place mi the wharf and convey you to a safe abode till you can return home. Mv strength tails me. (iod bless you, dear est—we will meet in henven. Your own Tom.'’ As she read, a deathly paleness overspread her lace, and she swooned away When re covered, in a flood of tears she asked if he were dead, The reply was—“ he was bur ied five days ago.” We have simply narrated the facts as we learned them and leave with our readers to imagine the cruel anguish and agonizing be reavement of tins poor, devoted girl, as lan guage would fail to depict the feelings thus experienced. This is but one of the hundred similar dis appointments. Kvery arrival brings its tale of sorrow as well as of joy all showing the uncertainty of California life its joys, its sorrows, and its vicissitudes. The trees may bear fruit and the (lowers still bloom, but not for poor Tom. They are the heritage of the stranger -the places that knew him will know him no more ; and as for the widowed bride, site still lives to la ment poor Tom, and droop and mourn over her own bereavement. “ Ail good angels attend her.” Tobacco Ciii:wi.i;s iaki: Wahmm;. Of the abominably vile practice of tobaeeo chewing a lady traveler thus writes in a let ter published in (he New York Tribunv.- She has been traveling by railroad from a New Kngland tillage, ami meets a snow storm. ‘ l’ut a fulling noise of another kind near ly et one frantic, i was in the ladies’ ear, of course, yet about me sat a brigade of to bacco chewers. I opened a book and nt tempted to read, but in vain I tried ti look over the heads of the crowd lie ab 1 straeted but my eyes would get into tin mirror at the further end of the car, tlm not only distorted my own fair face into a horrid eariciituro, lint gave me nil extended vista of the busy tobacco worms. ' 1 urn not a strong minded woman- am indifferent to reforms in general but oh! my country, cannot something bo done to check this ('rightful practice? Cannot our garments at. least lie protected from the pol lution our lungs from the foul air? The -love was heated to fever heat, ami at least ten human machines w ere at work poisoning the atmosphere three of them, not content with an ordinary process, expectorated di rectly upon the stove, and there arose a va por from which tlm great adversary of the human family might secure a lively hint for the improvement of that locality devoted to ! the punishment of sinners. Why not have a chewing ear as well as a smoking one a vile, filthy place, with the floor full of holes, and any quantity of red hot stoves? 1 I write with the memory of an ill temper dropping from my pen lint the ruin of a new traveling dress is the provocation I remem ber the wretch and will pin him to my page as a warning to gods and men. I want all ladies to beware of him. This animated to- Imeeo plant is a tall, thin, ungainly specimen of a ‘first family.’ I li.s extremities are in an unhappy state of disorganized diplomacy, being by no means in a harmonious state. — Ills face is just such a face as you may ex pect to find pertaining to the man who chews tobaeeo in a railroad car. It is thin, sallow and dirty—every line indicates sel fishness, and every movement ill-breeding. There, now, recognize him; and do not make the mistake 1 did and let your gar ments touch and place he once occupied. I did, and in a minute two breadths of mv charming robe was the color of the wretch’s face. » ' ■'*»'! I « »- — Absence of Mind.— Wo once heard of a clergyman who wont jogging along the road till he came to a toll-gute. ‘ What is to jiuy V he inqnrcd. 1 I’ay sir, for what V asked the gate-keeper. 1 Why, for my horse, to be sure.’ ‘ Your horse, sir ! w hat horse ? you have no horse, sir.’ ‘ No horse ! Ood bless me,’ said he, sud denly, looking down between Ids legs, ' 1 thought 1 was on horse bu< k.’ The Speaker who ‘ took the floor’has been arrested for stealing lumber. LiUaS, of the Mountain .Vtwxefi_;i r, *uys : ‘ How often have those snored words, There whispered by a father dear. Recurred to mind amt saved the child When on the brink of ruin near. Ah! eentle father, when thy child, \Y ho often sheds a t ,-ar for thee, Remembers ouee her cottage home Beneath that proud old cedar tree.’ Fire. — The following model description of a late conflagration wo clip from the Xorlh Cahforni in, published at Orovillc, Butte t\v Whether it actually occurred, or not, we are not prepared to suy : * * ★ * * * When the alarm was given, twenty heads, with eyes starting from their sockets, and each particular hair on end,’were protrud ed from the windows of the Orleans Hotel, looking ‘ worry expressive’ of a lunatic usy him. One, more intrepid than the rest, scorning to lie roasted in his lair, with wonderful ptvs j once of mind, dumped his feather bed to the ground to facilitate his descent, mounted the window stem 1 , clasped his hands with an im ploring look to heaven, boldly jumped from the window back to the floor, and walked down the front stairs in safely. Ibtring the conflagration, a bare-headed father, his hoary locks floating wildly in the dank air of night, rushed through (he streets proclaiming in a loud voice, ‘ the Bidwellites are burning the town,’ showing the effect of fervent heat upon a fervid imagination. \n elegant mirror was thrown from the third story window of un adjoining building, breaking it some. ’I'lte individual who threw the mirror was afterwards seen walking down stairs with a suspicious looking mug in each hand, and uf tcr carefully depositing them and their con tents in a place of safety, turned away ex j claiming, “ .Mclliinlis. T scent Ih ■ morning tt'r?" \\ lu,e the column of vivid Maine wu low ering to high heaven, illuminating every ob ject for a mile, around with it s fitful glare, it occurred to the cnicrpri; ing proprietor of the Orleans that this In dlumey might be made available as a itb-t dale Ibr eaniphcne, and with tin 1 rapidity ol decision and execu tiou that characterizes geniu ■, lie had a por lion ot the top ol his house retiiuveil, and for full two hours un effulgence poured thro’ this impromptu skylight, as brilliant audfaii tasiie as I Inti of a ltrumuminl light, it i said, to the iiiliuite sotisfaction of those who were asleep in the eon'all. M.nt ilf There is no great loss without some small guin. A man shindiii::* on the apex of .John Mil ler's liilliurd Saloon, let a bucket fall on the devoted heads of half a dozen devout lire men. About live miimles sub cmicntlv, he shouted ‘ stand from under,’ We mention this to give n poinl to the old ullage, ‘ bet ter late than never.’ A man had his hat badly crushed, but as near as we can learn, no It ns were lost. SoMmuvo Edit the <JAt„s. The Ciolden Era remarks: ‘Why females in California do not more readily command good husbands, can bent ti'ibuled as much (we ought to say more) to the outrageous value which they put upon themselves, us to a want of resolution in the men. They come here with the modest ex pectution of marrying a barrel of double eagles, and selecting from a battalion of suitors, and it takes them some time to learn to hope for anything h -s. A wife, for in stance, that an honest meelutiiie. might se lect as his etpial, would scorn his overtures, w hile sin'll an one as would listen to him, Satan him ell wouldn't have.’ I he author of that must have hail the mitten, he is so savage*, but there is ti great deal of very disngreeoble trutIt in it. Win n we were a young man, odds of years ago, we knew n number of very sprightly young Indies who wouldn’t look at an hon est mechanic or laboring man, if lin y could engage the attention of profe-annul men, merchants, or ‘gentlemen of el. mint leisure,’ sometimes called 'worthless eii-es,’ by peo ples unacquainted with gentility. In aeon test for the ine.xlihgui-liuble love of a blush ing beauty of upw ards of one hundred and sixty pounds, avoirdupois, wo were put to route by our rival entering a law office, us a student, and soon after carrying a cane and w i.uriag green spectacles. Faint heart never won fair lady, ami we ‘govo in.’ Not till (In n had we discovered that the false one stood on an immovable busis, and that the impression site left in the sand wag equal, in superficial area, to the truck of a Laplander on snow shoes.— Sierra Citizen. A westers editor, in speukitig of a friend, says, ‘ ho lias his weak points, but telling the truth is not one of them N'ice puff, that. I'vci.k Samvel. —Uncle Sam tvas born a nation eighty years ago; since then he has whipped ins mother and one of his brothers, thrashed the Barbary cousins, threatened b ranee and made her pay up, and cleared decks for battle with Austria. He has set an example for liberty and popular power •bat has thoroughly frightened the despots ot the earth and periled their ancient thrones, lie has grasped a continent and is fast cov* ering it with a free, educated and thriving people Hu has built more ships than any other nation in the same time, and his ting is now seen on every ocean and sea, and in every harbor and river. He has built more steamboats, more railways, more telegraph lines, more school houses, more churches, more cities, bigger babies, in that 80 years than any other nation in 500 years. And has printed more newspapers, made more -peoehes, and has done more bragging than any other nation has done in a thousand years. K\kk\ Man .Masks nix Mask. Every man who comes into the world makes some mark upon it ere he goes to his fund rest it may be a small one - hardly visible to the plodding pilgrim on life’s highway Hut nevertheless, in the future time it will attest ome sew ice done or some dut y neglected. Every man exercises some influence in the sphere which he occupies. No mutter how low his degree, how obtuse his intellect, how vile his character, he must make his mark upon the times in which he lives, either for | good or ill. If for good, future ages will cherish that index of his existence as they would the autograph of some great conquer or on the world's battle (ieleis; if for ill, it stands out us a beam and a warning upon the pages of history Washington made liis mark in clear and diMmot characters, when be aided in laving the foundation and e-tab* li-hing the character of our Republic, and a nation | under over it now with reverential admiration. A mold made Ins mark in no less di binet characters when he would have betrayed the liberties of the colonies; but our nation ami the world point to it now, and will point to it in all the future, us a blot upon tlie i m utclieou of humanity, and ; a stain upon the otherwise fair frontlet of A mi rieau patriotism. The e are the two sorts of marks which dilferent men make upon the world while mingling in its strifes and labors. Even the babe who lingers but a day upon the bor der-of Time, ero it returns to the pearly I rand, makes its impress upon the world. While it lived a ray of divinity was lighted, and when it died that ray burned on, as it will eoiilinuo to do for all time, gilding the rugged w ays of life w ith light, and surround ing the dark place with a holy influence. The smallest atom of created matter has its place and purpose; so the smallest hand trace on the sands of Time some autograph that waves ami tempo Is can never wash away. Every man has an influence, and it should bo bis uim at all times so to exercise the power inherent in and radiating from him, us that the world shall be wiser and better that he lias lived, and that future generation.-, in -.enrolling the ryords of his life, can suy, with one acclaim; ‘There wm a man an honest man peace be with his nuiuo.’ • — 4£> »• » — ~— What’s is a Nami.? (icorge Washing ton was sold the other day in \ irginia for l|t 1000! for what intent could the name of Washington have been given to a slave? Hid his mother I’aney it a prophecy of free dom? or did his mu ter give it as a burles que? How did that name sound, ringing under the hammer of the auctioneer ’—‘Ueo Wa-liiui’ion i'xOO hereiu Virginia ijt'JOff (Jeoige W'a hiugton only $000 -$950 — going, going, $1000 for Ooorgc Washington H im !’ Portland Truiiserivl. -♦♦♦ — A Woman's Wit.—Among the jokes that have been perpetrated daring the long de tentions on the railroads of the Atlantic States, occasioned by the deep snow, is the following capital one, clipped from a Ver mont paper: * Madame,’ said a conductor, a day or two since, ‘your hoy can't puss at half fare, he’s too large.’ 'lie may be too large now,' re plied the woman, who had paid for a ball ticket, ‘ but he was small enough when we star ted! 1 A L1TTI.E BOV, after listening to a sunn0[1 on the necessity of being bora again re turned homo much afflicted, ‘ ant j saj j t(J mother: ‘I did not like thu w . r .uon; U1((] Mu, 1 don’t want to be born again, for whjq knows bat I might then bo a ga|.’ Thf deaths in London #r« 1 100 w«r-i i\0. !■>.