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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
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
-*-* - *—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
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
‘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
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
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
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.—
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
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
“ 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
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
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
‘ 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
» ' ■'*»'! 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
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
“ .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
‘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
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
• — 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
* 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
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