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T H 13 trinity journal IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY M O USING, BY SEAMAN & GORDON. H. J. SEAMAN, D. E. GORDON, Editors and Proprietors. Office on Alain St. nearly opposite St. Charits Hotel. Terms.— The Journal will be furnished to sub scribers at the following rates : For one year $10 00 “ six months 5 00 ■“ three mouths 3 00 Advertisements conspicuously inserted on the following terms : One square, first inssrtion $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 JOBBING MATERIALS, we are now prepared to execute every description of plain & fancy printing in the best style of the art, and with promptness aud DESPATCH. Orders from abroad for Advertising or Job Printing, to ensure prompt attention, should in all cases be accompanied with the Cash. The Star of Love. B Y <i . P . \1 0 It U l S . The star of love now shines above, Cool zephyrs crisp the sea ; Among the leaves the w ind harp weaves Its serenade for thee. The star, the breeze, the wave, the trees, Their minstrelsy unite, Ilut all are drear till thou appear, To decorate the night. The light of noon streams from the moon, Though with a milder ray ; O’er hill and grove, like woman’s love, It cheers us on our way. Thus all that's bright, the moon, the night, The heavens, the earth, the sea. Ext rt their powers to bless the hours We dedicate to thee. Truth from the Mouth of Hares —the Empress Eucenie and a young Republican. — Apropos to the forthcoming heir, I must tell you a story which comes to me first-hand, null is for that reason amusing. For a long while past, the Empress has had the habit, in her drives through the Bois de Bologne, of stopping to take notice of every handsome child she sees, and of giving it bonbons and talking to it. A few days since she caught sight of a remarkably beautiful boy of four or five years old, had her carriage stopped, the nurse brought up to her, and the child lifted into the carriage. After caressing the child, and giving him quantities of bonbons, but getting only monosyllabic answers from him, ’Now,’ said the Empress, ‘kiss the Em peror,’ (who was seated beside her.) ‘No, I won’t,’ replied the boy, sturdily. ‘And why?’ asked the Empress; ‘come, go and kiss the Emperor directly, like a good boy.’ ‘1 won’t! I won’t!’ again reiterated the child; and at last, forced into answering, ‘Well, then, 1 won’t,’ cried out the little rebel, ‘be cause my papa hates him, and says he’s a pig!’ (ua cochon!!) Not only the Empress was in fits of laughter at this, but she re lated the story to several persons, and among others told it two nights ago to M. de Rothschild, mincing the matter in no way, but giving the child’s words unaltered, final epithet and all, and seeming to enjoy the fun of the thing uncommonly. Bill Jinkin’s Speech.— The canvassing for the approaching spring elections, which have fairly commenced, remind us of the Hen. Bill Jiukin’s stump speech, in reply to his unmarried opponent for the honors of a seat in the Legislature : ' 1‘athers and Mothers !—At an early day in this canvass I appealed to you for your support, and the assurances I received make me feel that in your support of me you are sustaining a man and principles near and dear to the hearth stone kitchens of every man and woman in the country ! (Immense cheering.) ‘I am a father and Lucy is a mother, and the baby is a screamer! Stand by me ! — Stand up, fathers and mothers, for your prin ciples. Encourage married people and you will get your daughter* married off and the country peopled. A lig lor old bachelors and all such uurivlted scissors ! ‘ I will not tire your patience about moon shine and nonsense, us the opposing candi date has done—you know all about me—I always have been Bill Jinkins, and always will be. And as this is the last time 1 will liave tin honor and pleasure of addressing you before the election, let me return you my thanks for your olt-rcpeated kindness and at tention, and if honored by you with a suc cessful election, let me toll yon—all—that po exertions on my part, or that of Lucy, shall be wanting to make me worthy ot your present and future support.’ Jiukins was elected. Pin Money. —The receipts of a bowling elley. THE TRINITY JOIHNAL The Death of Kxowltox. —On the 15th I of September, 1770, the American troops under the command of the brave Putnam were ordered to retreat from the upper part of the city, and fortify themselves upon the roekv heights at King’s Bridge. This meas ure was adopted by Washington more in ac cordance with the views of his aids than from his own wishes, although the advanec of the British army rendered the former position of the ‘rebels’ dangerous in the extreme.— The heights were reached in safety, and am ple provision made for the comfort of the large number of women and children depen dent upon the army fo^protection. On the morning of the 16th, word was received at headquarters that the enemy were approach ing. Washington immediately mounted his horse and rode rapidly towards the point from which the opposing forces were advan cing. The outpost, commanded by the brave Lieut. Col. Knowlton, who had so highly distinguished himself at the bloody field of Bunker Hill, was at this moment driven in, and the soldiers composing it flew wildly past the Commander-in-Chief. Knowl ton’s horse came slowly up to the General, bearing his wounded master. Washington seized the bridle, and, satisfying himself that his able officer was firmly fixed in his sad dle, returned sadly to the heights, while the bugles of the ‘red coats’ rang out insultingly in merry strains. Arrived at the building which Washing ton had taken possession of as his headquar ter—- and which stands there to this day— the wounded Knowlton was taken from his steed, and borne, bleeding and faint, into the chamber of his chief. ‘My wife,’ he murmured, in failing tones, ‘she is at the fort—send for her!’ His wish was complied with, and in a few moments the lady was kneeling above the dying husband. ‘Mo tears, dearest!’ he gasped. ‘You will ever remember this day! Let our children regard it as one upon which their father se cured an immorta'ity. Adieu, Mary! Go to your home: and when sadness assails you, remember that lie whom you mourn fell in defence of a nation’s liberty!’ Both Washington and Putnam were pres ent, and each clasped a hand of the dying man. With the latter lie had ever been an especial favorite. ‘Knowlton, my friend!’ stammered ‘old Put.’ while the tears stood in those eyes all unused to weeping—‘you were ever a lion hearted soldier. I wish the infernal vidian who gave you this wound was in my hands for a short time He would never again be in a position to wound, to kill, such a man as you. But you will never be forgotten. So long ns the memory of Bunker Hill is left those who come alter ns, so long will your name be repeated with love and grati tude.’ ‘The last word, most Welcome to a dying soldier,’ said the great Washington, ‘must be the commendation of his fellow warriors. I have watched you, Knowlton, unci have never known n braver man. However great the danger, you have ever been the foremost in meeting it. There has been no duty as signed to you from which you have shrunk, and believe me there is no officer under my orders in whom I would have placed more implicit reliance. To that Deity before whom we must sooner or later appear 1 commend you, knowing that the reward of the good and true awaits you.’ ‘Thanks, General; I—love you.’ The speech faltered, the eyes grew dim, and ere long the brave Knowlton had ceased to breathe. Then upon the silence of that quiet chamber arose a wild heart-broken cry. The wife, who had so devotedly fol lowed the object of her love through all the vicissitudes of danger until the dread hour of death, now' fell upon the cold form of the loved one, as she cried wildly—• ‘Husband! husband!’ No sound again broke the stillness of the scene until the compatriots of the dead sol dier came to bear the lifeless ones to the si lent grave. Together husband and wife re pose, amid the uurevealed mysteries of the coining time. Put Hum’s words were true— the hero is not forgotten. In this citv, last summer, a conscientious lad had, on the impulse, done something which he knew his mother would not ap prove. He was sincerely sorry, and carried his grief to the ear of a sister, and said that he Imd prayed for forgiveness. His sister comforted him by assuring him that God would forgive him. With tears streaming down his honest face he replied:—“1 know that God will forgive me, but 1 am afraid mother won’t.” There is a lesson in that touching reply which should teach all moth ers to be careful never to ‘break the bruised reed ’ — CUvtl'ind Herald. DEVOTED TO THE INTERESTS OF TRINITY COUNTY. WEAVE11V.1LLE, TRINITY COUNTY, CAL.. SA Cl IS DAY HOMING, .MAY 10. 1856. My Mother's Song Sweet Home. How oft we hear those simple words! We hear them breathed in son;', When music bursts from happy hearts That still to joy belong! When rosy beams ot daylight dawn. Or when the shadows fall, We hear the gladsome echoes tell " sweet Home ” hath charms tor all I Those simple words! That plaintive air! My motin 1 >aug the strain In days gone past, in happy days That may not come again! She sang it bv the household hearth, Our father sitting by, And smiles wa re playing on his lips, But tear-drops tilled uis eye 1 “ On earth there is no place like home,” She taught my lips to say. But all that made my home so dear Long since has passed away ! We hear no more her gentle voice At morning or at even ; She has an angel's golden harp ! ller song is heard iu Heaven 1 I bear it sung by others now, And o’er my soul the while Steal memories sadly sweet that bring A teardrop and a smile! And oh ! ’tis sweet e’en now to hear Those thrilling murmurs fall, “ Home, sweet, sweet home,” 'tis not of earth, Heaven hath a homo for all! California as it Was, and is to Be.— There lias been much in the circumstances ami developments of California that has con tributed first to give her place, and secondly, rank among the number of States of this fed eral Union. The discovery of gold happen ing when the country was subject to the im migration of the adventurous and hardy American ; the case with which it was then obtained, when it was worth, for all practi cal purposes, less than now ; and the short space of time in which many were enabled to return to their homes with a competency, have all been highly favorable to California. When the news of the gold discovery lirst reached the Atlantic States, many set out at once for the land of gold, while many of the more cautious shook their heads and de termined to await further developements ; but general credence and confidence soon followed the weighty evidence regularly for warded, and California was in the minds of the multitude, uud discussed with every phase of opinion and interest The El Dorado of Spanish avarice and Spanish dreams, had become a reality and the reality revealed to the American after his predecessors had become idle and enervated, and lost all defi nitness of outline in blendings with the wild Indian. The Spaniard came to seek for gold, but the American to find it. llad mining been asditieult and expensive in 1849, as now, the gathering of gold had been left to the capitalist, and a longer time elapsed before the country had become pop ulous ; but instead, the mail with barely enough to bring him here, however raised, was the first gainer. The laborer and the reaper Were synonomons, and many an east ern hearth now glows with a brighter flame because of the competency gained in El Do rado. "Eureka!” shouted the returning laborer, and a welcome (" Eiiiekaincn ! ”) was returned by glad voices. Then even panning along the ravines was productive, and not a few supposed that the gold would soon be exhausted, but recent experience has shown the auriferous deposits to be wide ly disseminated. In the early years of Califor nia enterprise men came to make a fortune in two years at farthest, and the new comer might suppose from the calculations of every man lie met that the country would soon be depopulated, and that he must haste to make his “pile” or stay and toil ulone. Years have rolled over our heads, and all have not become rich at a time, and so the con.se ijuenccs have been avoided Now the ad venturer must, with here and there mi excep tion, expect to tarry for years, and none but the misinformed will anticipate anything else. The consequences of this are favorable to the general interests. Men have a repu tation to win, and to preserve. They have some interest in the establishment of what ever contributes to the public good, because it concerns themselves, and a foundation is laid for a happy future. Wild dreams, and a wilder life, give way to the reasonings of sober senses. The distribution of water by ditches, all over the mining region, will materially mod ify the unfavorable features of the dry season. Labor may be profitably continued through the year, and the gum to the laborer, though slower, quite as certain, and quite us benefi cial. Operations will not need to be shifted from hills to the river beds, and from river beds to the hills, with the changing seasons. Hydraulic apparatus does and will to a greater extent do tlee work of laborers with pick and shovel, while those whom it thus supplants must find employment in the con struction of ditches and attending them. One of the interesting considerations con nected with the future of California, is the destruction made of hill and mouutaiu by hydraulic operations. If we look at the quite extensive inroads already made upon the hills, and f effect that these will be con tinued for years, or even for centuries, we are strongly reminded of the scriptural predic tion of the bringing low of the mountains, and hills, which, though not meant literally, may have a literal application and fulfillment when applied to El Dorado. And if the hills are to be brought low, and every creek and rivulet to be frightened with the debris, what shall we say for the valleys? What is to be the effect of the gradual but certain transference of so great a bulk of earth to the country below ? Is the channel of the Sacramento and other rivers to be gradual ly tilled by the deposit of the heavier parti cles, and so the rivers spread over their now broad and fertile valleys? Are not difficul ties in the way of navigation already accu mulating, and complained of? But what is to become of the final dumping-place of all this matter ? Whether the bay of San Fran cisco is to be gradually filled, and finally cease to be, or whether the efflux of the tides will bear the earth to the ocean for distribution, I leave to the calculation of wiser heads, or, if the reader prefer, to the unequivocal decisions of time. I will venture the assertion, however, that the influx of the tide may be found efficient in bearing the earthly particles up the bay, and so constant ly lessen the volume of the tides, nml their ability to carry out to the ocean as much as now. If this suggestion prove true, its ef fect must be witnessed already by the navi gation of the bay, and all such us have in vestigated the matter. At any rate the conformation of the Golden Gate seems to me highly favorable, being such as always to confine its waters to a narrow channel, thus giving them ample power to carry the earth beyond any possibility of obstruction to nav igation, by the forming of difficult passes, us at the mouth of the Mississippi. The aspect of California 1ms been materi ally changed by felling her forest trees the redwood, oak and pine—and this has pro duced sonic change upon the climate, espe cially in the mountains, where the rays of the Min reach and heat the parched earth of summer, unintercepted by the foliage of the trees, making the days warmer, and prolong ing the heat of day into the hours of night. This change the old residents acknowledge, while (he unmistakable signs of the times indicate yet another and a favorable change for the future. Shade trees, ami fruit trees which give shade, are being planted every where, nml the future of our towns present not masses of roofs miked before a burning snn, blit instead, its inhabitants peeping out from the protection and comfort of a grateful shade. Ami then the luscious fruit, which California will bear in abundance, as she does everything else ! Then ado/.cn apples will not be counted out at the expense of a dozen dollars, or a bushel—but who dares now to calculate the cost of a bushel of ap ples? I can’t ; large calculations bewilder ine, nml before them the interior of my purse shrinks to a vacuum. If any so bold as has made such a calculation, let liiru speak, for him have I offended. To every lover of improvement, if is pleas ant to see the attention being given to the cultivation of fruit trees in the mountains and valleys. Thousand of families are now supplied to a greater or less extent with young trees afforded by the industry and skill of enterprising men, who foresaw end made provision for the wants of our people. With the growth of these, will doubtless ap pear more numerous insects, if not a greater variety—the caterpiller and moths of their kinds-—and with the increased means of sus tenance will also appear a greater number of birds to cheer the summer morning. The robin and the blue-bird (those birds of home) will not stay with us merely long enough to escape the rigors of a northern winter, but will nestle there young, and teach them flight by our dwellings. Already 1 im agine I hear the glad voices of bird", “With song that snvsa thousand things, And seems to say them ult for me. ” — Golden Era. Tm. Rais That wa* a pretty little poet* ical thanksgiving for the ruin in last Thurs day’s Chronicle If the editor of that paper waote it—and he undoubtedly did—lie was too modest by half in putting it before his readers in the manner in which it appeared. Here is the concluding paragraph : Shull man alone, of all the world—blessed by the showers again—refuse to render grat itude to Him who sends the rain ? The rain that whispers us it falls, and from the fresh ened »od, “ I come in answer to your prayers, the messenger of God.” The silver rain, the golden rain, the pure and pearly rain, that scatters blessings ou the hills, and sifts them o’er the plain. The MrDNiuiiT Baftisji.— Gentle reader, the scene I mu about to describe took place in the rustic parlor of a small hotel situated on the shore of the Atlantic. It was the month of August, and a crowd of strangers, weary of the heat and excite ment of city life, had gathered to the quiet town of T , to enjoy the quiet beauty and solemn grandeur of nature. And long would the seeking traveler journey, ere scenes lovelier and more soul soothing blest his vision. Mountain after mountain, lifted their heads in silent and perpetual adoration to the hand that formed them. But dearer than all to me were the waters of the beau titul harbor. Now dark and troubled and anon soft. Still and beautiful as the soul’s dream of heaven. Among the visitors at the hotel, were a lady and gentleman, with their only child, an iutunt. They had come there hoping that their little one might be benefitted by the cool sen breezes. But this feeble reed failed them, and they felt they had no pow er to save. As the last lingering hope died out in the mother's heart, there rose up a desire to offer back to God, the sweet treasure He had so lately given, in the solemn act of boptism. Eternal thanks for the enduring love of a mother. Her soul was overwhelmed with anguish a mother only can feel, yet, above it all rose the wish to see the fair brow of her child bearing the seal of the covenant. Kind-hearted strangers waited eager to anticipate her every wish, and quickly sum moned a servant of our Savior to perform the beautiful and solemn rite. Many stran gers had gathered in the little parlor, to witness the baptism of the dying child. In our midst stood the afflicted parents, and the babe, clasped tenderly in the arms of its mother, whose sobs were hushed by a strong effort, but on her face, grief and re signation were so painfully blended, that every lip quivered, and each eye was dimmed as we looked on her. The minister rose, dipped his hand in the consecrated water, and was about to place it upon the brow of the child, when a show er of tears fell from the mother’s eyes upon the sweet face of the babe. The minister paused, and looked upon the child, and (we all thought him about to pronounce the benediction,) then sprinkled its little face with the sacred water, and turning to the mother he said, ‘Young mother, your babe is doubly consecrated.’ After earnestly and tenderly commending them to the mercy of their God, wo separated, to meet as wo Imd again, never. The morning sun rose bright and cloud less, but its first beams fell upon a mother sorrowing beside her dead. The reaper death had passed by tbc bearded grain, and with his sickle keen, severed the tender bud, with all its sweetest leaves still folded. But lie whispered in the mother’s ear us he passed, “Saints shall upon their garment* bright, This spotless blossom wear.” Calmly, but still .sorrowing, that mother went her household way, niuruinring soft and low, 'It is well with my child.’ And the listening afigels caught the murmured words, and joyfully spread their wings, arid as onward und yet onward they flew shouted —‘It is well with my child.’ A SirrEit’s Love. There Is something in expressibly touching in a sister’s love. Her hcui't is a realm of pure and unearthly af fection, and happy should that brother be to whom she clings through the changing scenes of the blighting world. She has been his companion in childhood, she w atched the development of his mind und person, she has admonished him when wrong, and smiled upon his triumphs, she has peopled his mind with the beautiful treasures of her own, she has taught him those virtues which will ren der him a useful member of society, prepare him for death and embalm his memory when he has passed away. Sooner can you bind the free wind than seal up the springs ot such mysterious affections. Tiny will How on, und the desert und cave cannot lorget their progress. And as sorrow and misfor tune strip from life its charms and dreams, there is one recollection that will come like music to a brother’s heart—that will thrill upon its darkened and troubled depths with a strange yet sweet melody, and bring up scenes of home and childhood, long uure meinbcred. It is the recollection of a sis ter’s love. —».. -- ‘Excuse me, madam, but I would like to ask, why you look at me so very savagely?’ ‘Oh! I beg pardon, sir! I rook you for my husband.’ Ax Englishman's ‘Haity Medium.’ —'Alf end ’Alf j Sprint;. book all around thee! Flow the spring advances, New life is playing through the gay.green trees; See how. in yonder bower, the light leaf dances To the bird's tread, and to the quivering breeze! How every blossom in the sunlight gldnces! The winter frost to his dark cavern hies, And earth. Warm-wakened, feels thro'every rein The kindling influence of the vernal rain. Now silvery streamlets, from the mountain steal- Ounce joyously the verdant vales along ; [iug. Cold fear no more the songster's tongue is sealing; Down iu the thiek. dark grove is heard his soug; And all their bright and lovely hues revealiug, A thousand plants the field and forest throng ; l ight comes upon the earth in radient showers. And mingling rainbows play among the fowers- — I< Religion Rkaitihl. —Always ! In the child, the maiden, with tlie wife, mother, re ligion shines a holy, benignant beauty of its own which nothing on earth ean mar. Never yet was the female character complete with out the steady faith of piety. Beauty, wealth and intellect ! they are all pit-falls, dark in the brightest day, unless religion throws her divine beams around them to purify und ex ult, making twice glorious that which seem ed all lovlinoss before. Religion is very beautiful—in health or sickness, wealth or poverty. We never enter the sick chamber of the good, but soft music seems to be afloat on the air, und the burdeu of their song is, “ Lo ! peace is here.” Could we look into thousands of families to-day, when discontent sits lighting sullen ly with life, we should find the chief cause of unhappiness, want of religion in women. And in felons’ cells—in places of crime, misery, destitution, ignorance—we should be hold in nil its most horrible deformity, the fruit of irreligion iu women. Oh, religion 1 benignant majesty, high on thy throne thou sittest, glorious and exalted. Not above the clouds, for earth-clouds come never between thee and the truly pious soul not beneath the clouds, for above thee is Heaven, opening through a broad vista of exceeding beauty. Its gates shine in the splendor of jsspei* and precious stones, white with dewy light that neither Hashes nor blazes, but steadily proeecdeth from the throne of God. Us towers are bathed in refulgent glory ten times the brightness of ten thousand sun% yet soft an 1 umluzzling to the eye. And there religion points. Art thou weary? It whispers "rest—up there—for I ever.” Art thou sorrow ing ?“ eternal joy.” Art thou weighed down with unmerited ig nominy? “kings and priests iu that holy home." Art thou poor? “the Tery street before thy mansion shall be gold.” Art thou friendless? “the angels shall ho thy companions and God thy Friend and Father.’ Is religion beautiful? We answer, all is desolation ami deformity where religion is not. Artless Simplicity. One of the sweet est incidents which we have noticed for many a day and one which shows the effect of early training, assisted by a simple and timle filed imagination, bus just fallen under our observation. It is thus related : A lady lately visited New York city, ami saw one day on the sidewulk a ragged, cold, and hungry little girl, gazing wishfully at soma of the cakes in a shop window She stopped and taking the little one by the band, led her into the store. Though she was uwaro that bread might be belter for the cold child than cake, yet desiring to gratify the shiv ering And forlorn one, she bought and gave her the cake she wanted. She then took tier to another place, where she piOeured her a shawl and other articles of comfort. The grateful little creature looked (lie benevolent lady up full in the face, and w ith artless sim plicity, said, “ Are you God’s wife?” Dal the most eloquent speaker ever employ words to better advantage ? To a Norm I.iaii. Lie oil ' while my revenge shall be, To *(>'•,ik the very truth of thee. ‘Hi im s.s UEEiiKK fleasi F.K,’ as the man said when he kissed his wife before going out to kiss his neighbor’s. — - ■ » — Getting High. —A western man lately took lodgings at the Astor, and was escorted nt night by the waiter to the top of the building ; lie turned to his guide, und said : “ Look here, stranger, if you intend to call me at six in the morning, you'd better do it now, as it will be about that time afore I get down again ” - A Bartizan Paper says “it is a mistake thut the (oppisite) party (flays on a harp of a thousand strings. The organ of that party is a lyre! ” i a short time. Our mott» is, redit wlitu wec&ntash wbeuwe cannot* Jan. 26, 1666. n l-tf. ■ Conclusive Evidence. —A young woman brought up before the Police Court for mis demeanor, was asked for some proof of her respectability. In her defence, she said sho was acquainted with "all the lawyers,” atjjj; n-n« inetaoMt fir Mx month* NO. 16.