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T H K TRINITY JOURNAL IS PUBLISHED EVERT S A T URDA Y M 0 K N 1X6, BY SEAMAN & GORDON. H. J. SEAMAN, D. E. OORDON, Edit or t and Proprietors. OjJice on Main St. nearly opposite St. Charles 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 Sc JOB PRINTING. Having recently made large additions to our stock of JOB BING MATERIALS, we are now prepared to execute every description of PLAIN &PAIUCY PRINTING in the best style of the art, and with promptness and DESPATCH. Orders from abroad for Advertising or Jon Printing, to ensure prompt attention, should in all cases be accompanied with the Cash. For the Journal. To Anna D . BY B. S. M. O, come my lbvc ! O, come with me, ’Nentli the shading boughs of our trystingtrcc, Whose leaves of gold so gently lave, Iu the streamlet's bright and mirror'd wave. Whilst the bright-robed Queen of starry night Sheds down on the grove a flood of light— We’ll gaze with joy on the stars above, And breathe sweet tones of cherished love. Then come my love ! O, come with me, To the shading boughs of our try sting tree ; And with hearts as true as the God above, We will make our vows of lasting love. t)Esoi.ATE Home. —The charm of home de pends upon the perfection of its circle — break the circle ami the charm is broken. Death is p. fearful visitor, nb matter when or how he inay come. His advent, even when his face is most thickly veiled, and footsteps most cautious, is terrible; but when he uses his power ns if he loved to use it, and surrounds his mission with superfluous and peculiar horrors, then the heart-strings must snap and the blood curdle in the veins. Many and many a time have we written for others what we are now writing for our selves. Tor we can see how tame were our descriptions, how indifferent were our ex pressions of sympathy, how cold and pas sionless were our words. Forgive us, ye who have mourned and suffered, nor fear lest our future words and deeds shall not be fervent and tender. Our darling liar, indeed, departed. Tor the few hours that her little form remained with us, we felt I hut we had her still—but now we know that she is gone. It was a bright morning when we followed her to rest, but brought back with us darkness.— The home which she sunned and made musi cal wus as gloomy as a cavern, and so it re mains. A few days ago it seemed like heaven—but now the stars have faded out, and the lark that sung at the gate has fallen with an arrow in its breast. And when the night came on, how it brought a new measure—fully heaped—of lonely agony! How we sought to sleep, and were awakened by her blessed voice— her pattering footfalls—her thrilling touch! It did, indeed, seem as if she was there!— Hut when we looked around mid saw her not there, then the truth returned like a sudden blow 1 , and we sank into the bitter waters. She lies in her coffin. There are rosebuds in her hand, and a wreath of myrtle encir cles her brow of alabaster. The leaves full -niormilv, the winds moau like a chnined beast about her dismat Il 18 ' iar(1 to leave her there, it seems so cold and dreary for the child ! And yet we know it must be—and because it must be it is. Yet why not talk what we know as well as what we feel? Our bird now sings amid the eternal branches —our bud now blooms in the garden of God—our darling reposes in the bosom of the Crucified. It is well. God loved the child, and loved her most when he took her up where Rachel’s chil dren are. We will eat this sweet morsel of consolation, and it shall strengthen us.— Buffalo Express. The report that the Pacific is to be en larged for the purpose of accommodating the growing commerce of California is we learn without any foundation whatever. “ Never be critical to the ladies,” was the maxim of an old Irish peer, remarkable for his homage to the sex ; “ the only way a true gentleman will ever attempt to look at the iiuHscf a r rettr Tomas is— iss\'dl\v S’- t * The Mississippi a Toxic. —A few eve nings since we met a party of men who had evidently purchased their tickets for the steamer, and the topic of their conversation was about their return. Each in turn was anticipating some new pleasure they would enjoy; various were the plans of surprise to their friends and relatives suggested, when a friend said to Tike, that 'lie would be glad to get back in less than six months—that he would get siek of l’ike county and the mud dy Mississippi water.’ Pike looked around to sec if there was room to spread himself, and replied: ‘Me get tired of Pike county and the Massissippi! Stranger, you know nothing of that spot, and the medicine qualities of that stream. It's not like this country, that don’t produce anything but quartz rock and bullock horns. I tell you whut, we can raise corn in Pike, and make corn juice as is a tome, when mixed with the Massissippi.-- Muddy water! where did you get your ideas from, stranger? It’s drinking that water that makes the people of Pike tight so—it’s a vigorahng cordial. Did you never read history? Why it was a mixture of that water with corn juice that made General Jackson lick the English at New Orleans. Why was all the soldiers of the Mexican war sent down the Massissippi? ’Cause the government know’d it was a tonic better nor calomel, and they wanted the boys to get a tone to the stomack afore they went to sen. I tell you Scott couldn’t have licked the Mexicans if it had not been for this vigora ting cordial. That water is mother’s milk to me, stranger, and I won’t hear it run down.’ One of the party, to start Pike off again, remarked that he had heard that Mississippi water was a cathartic. Pike’s eyes dilated, his nostrils distended, and he looked around wildly; he was evi dently preparing for a ‘free light,’ when the party making the remark, seeing the effect upon Pike, said: ‘Yes, it is that which makes it a valuable medicine.’ ‘That relieves my mind, stranger,’ said Pike, ‘ ’cause I was going in on that remark if it hadn’t meant a tonic.’ Pike, feeling that he had vindicated Pike county and the medicinal qualities of the Mississippi, strode off.— Team Talk. Anecdote of the i.ate IIox. George II. Campbeu.. —Mr. Campbell was, as every body knows, at one time one of the editors of the Native American paper called the Eagle. At that period, A D. Ely, Esq., wrote most of the political leaders of the paper, which were received as ableeponents of the Native American creed. In the em ployment of the office was a brawny, good natured modern ‘Greek,’ Or, as may be said in Spanish—Irishman. The functions of Dennis were to tutu the wheel, which gave the impetus to one of the old Ramage presses, on which the Eagle was printed.— One night, after proof had been read, the form locked up, and several impressions worked ofT, ‘tall George’ and Mr. Ely en tered the press room and requested the stop ping of the press. Deaths ‘held up,’ and for the nonce the Eagle ceased its flight; there whs something wrong in the ‘setting up’ of Mr. Ely’s leader; the mistakes were pointed out, and the pressman proceeded to rectify While this was proceeding, Cumpbell went up to Dennis to crack a joke or two with the good nntured ‘broth iv a boy.’ ‘ Dennis, how long have you been absent from the Green Isle?’ ‘Green Isle; by dad, Mr. Camel, they have ns good, clear ile in Ireland as you can produce on the face of the blessed earth.’ ' Ah! but, Dennis, now that you are here in America, you ought to prejudice yourself in favor of your adopted country.’ ‘ So I do, Mr. Camel. I’m an Irishman, am.! God I hope knows it, a thrue Catholic: but, excuse my protieiT.' 1u '*yi Mr. Camel, I am a hypocrite.’ ‘ How, Dennis?’ ‘ Why, don’t yer see wid half an eye, that yerself, and Mr. Ely, and other gintlomen, are writing from dny to day all sorts iv para griffs, running down me counthrymen and me religion?’ ‘ Well, how does that stigmatize you as a hypocrite?’ ‘ I’lain enough, Misther Camel; don’t I turn the wheel that makes the press go? dou’t you, wid the others, write the articles, and ain’t I ingaged ivery night in grinding out American principlesV The next morning Dennis had a new pair of boots on his feet, and Mr. Campbell footed the bill.— Mail. What sort of a drum is that which is best when it cannot be beaten ? Aiu. —Why, a cczan-i'*-ef oocrsa DEVOTED TO THE INTERESTS OE TRINITY COFXTY. WEAVERVILLE, TRINITY COUNTY, CAL., SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 17. 18:76. I’m “Talking in my Sleep." Written by Mrs. F. S. Osgood, and sung by Miss Annie Smith, at the Weaverville Theater, with great success. I've something sweet to tell you. But the secret you must keep ; And remember, if it isn't right, I’m 1 talking in my sleep." For I know I am but dreaming. When I think your love is mine, And I know they are but seeming, All the hopes that round me shine. But remember, when I tell you, What I can no longer keep, We are none of us responsible, For what we say in sleep. My pretty secret’s coming. Oh, listen with your heart, And you shall hear it humming So close, ’twill make you start. Oh, shut your eyes so earnest, Or mine will wildly weep— I love you, I adore you ! but— I'm ‘talking in my sleep.’ For I know I am but dreaming, When I think your love is mine, And I know they are but seeming, All the hopes that round me shine. Farewell to Mining. l)Y CALIFOIlN'ICl'S. Render, was you ever a miner ? Did you ever listen to the splendid ro mances of the California journals or returned adventurers—to the golden legends of this auriferous era piot the Golden Era,) until the loveliest surroundings of your daily life lost their beauty, one constant discontent made you miserable, and all your hopes were swallowed up in one fallacious but fascina ting desire which animated the New World adventurers of the sixteenth century? In short, to explain this long categorical sentence, did you ever have the ‘gold fever?’ Did you bid your friends good-bye, like a smiling martyr, and hasten on the wings of the wind to find a cure for your malady in El Dorado? Did you, after arriving there, leave the splendid temptations of Sun Fran cisco in 1859-50, to attempt a more bril liant success in the gold fields? Did you, after many monshs of hard toil, of daily bendings over the earthy shrine of your golden goddess, finully recover from the fe ver and turn your face upon the scene of your delusion and humiliation forever? If you have felt and done all this, then you can understand me; for I, too, have been a miner—I, too, have left the diggings, and the ‘claims’ which knew me once, will know me no more forever! Any person not practically acquainted with the life of a California miner—who has merely heard of its hardships, dangers and vicissitudes, and only read the story of some unfortunate gold hunter, would naturally conclude that such a life was devoid of any attractions. Further than this, the lucky individuals who make fortunes comfortably behind counters, and keep their souls from worldly ken under the same lock that se cures their money, may raise their generous hands in horror and exclaim against the sor atdncss of such a life. No doubt the world looks upon the spectacle of so many thou sands engaged in a grovelling search after wealth—of youth, health, talents and hap piness all sacrificed to Mammon, us a very mournful and iilstrtietivc example. And so it is, but there are circumstances connected with the miner’s life which makes it very dear to him, which render its very miseries pleasures, and bind him to it long ufter the star of ‘good luck’ has sunk from his vision apparently forever. Some of these I intend here to present, without, however, attempting to fully vindi cate or exalt the character of the California miner—a quite needless task. Many a man came to California more for the purpose of escaping from the cold con ventionalities of civilization, and the tyran ny of prejudice, than with any hope or in tention of making a fortune; and such men have found here all they sought. Here they can (re independent without wealth, and industrious without compulsion. Nature opens here her generous bosom, like a kind and liberal mother, to ull her chil dren alike; so that none need want for the necessaries t)f life. All cun come or go, as they list, and when weary of traveling pitch their tents arid find remunerative employ ment. The adventurous miner, clad in the home liest garments, and laboring daily in the earth, is a free man and a respectable char acter. Every community acknowledges his importance, and the laws are frnmed to main tain him in his privileges; for here labor is estimated ut nearer its true value than in older countries, partly because it is felt to be the real staple of our success, but more because all degrees of intelligence and abili ty are found in its ranks, which also supply the ruling minds of the State. In addition to this, the hulo of romance is cast around him. The drudgery of for tune-seeking is to him made poetical, for he ll-w is coaetaat ccoauzica with aature, • “And nil the beauty of the woods. The splendor of the verdant plain, The spell that over ocean broods— Disturb to peace his heart and brain.” His is no selfish toil. The image of sonic dear one who loves him, stimulates him to industry; and his ar dent desire is, with the alchemy of love to transmute gold into happiness. Thus love and hope, inciting to courageous enterprise and persevering labor, have built up an empire on the Pacific, and the birth of California has been sanctified, in spite of all evils, by the tenderest sentiments of hu manity. Every miner has/«?/ as I write, and enn understand the regret with which 1 finally abandoned the occupation that first taught me the nobility of lubor. The old cabin where 1 had lived, where I had seen some pleasure and much sorrow and suffering, became dear to me at once when about to leave it forever. The naked granite, even, which I had bared to the sky in searching for gold, seemed to acquire a degree of loveliness and to invite me back. Every tree, bush and rock; the flowery hill sides nenr it, and the familiar mountain peaks ranged along the blue horizon—land marks and guides through so ninny 'pros pectings;'—all were about me, like regret ful friends, to stay my departure. But more than all, the honest hearts, the open hands, the pleasant faces of my old mining partners —my only friends in nil the word who had struggled with mo in health and cared for me like brothers in sickness—uhl it was painful, indeed, to say farewell to them! But 1 left them, and the old cabin has since gone to decay. The chimney, raised with so much care and looked at with so much pride, bus fallen to the ground; the friendly logs have been dragged away and burnt to warm some brother miner; and the golden blossoms of curly spring now flaunt their beauty on the site of my old home. Oil now forever Farewell the guileless mind ! farewell hard work ! Frrewell led-shirted 'chums,' and tbu 'big licks’ That render mining pleasant! O farewell! Farewell the Untying mule, the shovel’s ring, The gravel-ruttling ‘Hopper.' picks’ sharp click, The torn tombrrro , and all quality, Pride, hope and toil of honest mining! And oh, ye rich I'lacrrs, whose teeming wealth The Arabian tales of wonder counterfeit. Farewell! A miner's occupation's gone! — Golden Kra. Advantages or an Awninu.—A little boy, about five years of age, was sent to the gro cery store on the corner, ou some trifling errand, and while there his bright eye light ed upon n barrel of pippins exposed tempt ingly to view just outside of the door. In going out be took one, uml returned to his mother munching it. ‘Where did you gel that nice apple Wil lie?’ inquired his mother. ‘Dot it at the droccry.’ ‘Did tlie muii give it to jou?’ ‘No, I took it.’ ‘Why, Willie, that was naughty; you should not take apples, nor anything else, without permission.' 'I3ut nobody suw me.’ . ‘Oh, yes, Willie, there was One who suw yon.’ ‘Who saw me?’ ‘Why, Clod saw you.’ Will ic stopped for a moment to consider, and then, with a good deal of satisfaction expressed in his face, replied— ‘No he didn’t, mn; there was an awning over the store door!’ The Age ok a House.—A man who want ed to buy a borse, asked a friend how to tell u horse’s age. “ By his teeth,” was the re ply. The next day the man went to a horse dealer, who showed a splendid black horse. The liorse-hiinteropeiied the animal's mouth, gave one glance and turned on his heel ‘‘I don’t wan’t him,” said he, ‘‘lie’s thirty two years old ” Me hud counted his teeth. ♦ ♦♦ A cam.ant New England knight of the quill, describing a country dance, says: ‘‘The gorgeous strings of glass beads will now glisten on the heavy bosoms of the vil lage belles, like polishsd rubies resting on the delicate surface of warm apple diimplins.” A Yankee poet thus describes the excess of his devotion to his true love : I sing her praise in pm-try ; For her at motn and eve, I cries whole pints of bitter, tears, And u> pelhem with my tUere 1 "Ain’t you afraid you will break while falling so?” said a chop in the pit of a cir cus, to a clown. “ Why?” asked the latter. " Because you are a tumbler,” replied the wag. . Exit clown behind the scenes, in a faint ing condition. » ■ — ■ ■" """ The Nevada Journal has entered upon its sixth year “Lily Bell." PT STETOEX C. MASSETT. Fairest lily of the valley. Fairest tlow'ret of the vale. Fairer than when sun-bcams dally, Round the primrose meek and pale. She was fresh ns May's first blossom And her sweetness none can tell, Gentle as the summer’s breathing, Was the voice of Lily Hell ! Light upon the grassy meadow, Light amid the flower* of Spring, Light ns morning’s early shadow \\ lien the flowers their incense bring; Was her gentle footstep gliding. ’Mid the flowers she lev, d so well; Flowers that mirror'd back the beauty On the cheek of Lily llell. Fading was my own sweet blossom, Fading are earth’s hopes away. Fade my heart in earth’s cold bosom Till again 1 hear her say, “Come away from earth to heaven With the angels there to dwell!” Hush'd is now the heavenly music Of the voice of Lily Hell. Exiiitimox ofthf. Private Schooi in TV\s srtte Au.f.y.—Tito following front the pen of John Phoenix, we take from the Sun Fran cisco Herald of May 8(1 : "The exhibition of this admirable Semi nary of learning, so long under the control of that celebrated teacher, Adolphus Flat hroke, Esq , took place on Tuesday, to the intense satisfaction of all who witnessed it. This school numbers sortie thirty-seven pu pils, who assemble in the rear of a coal yard, in the Alley, where they enjoy the grateful shade of several hundred feet of lumber, which projecting over the fence, forms the covering to the sehoo'ehouse—a small, illy arranged, nud uncomfortable resort. Every available place was occupied by the friends of the scholars, and the police, and many were obliged to leave, nimble to obtain a view of the proceedings. The fence on the opposite side of the al ley was tastefully decorated with festoons of old clothing, anil worn-out gunny hags, a lnfge dead cat forming a centrepiece, above which was inscribed in clmlk the simple mot to—” Lot Her Hip.” The order of exercises was as follows : L Throwing Stone by William barker and Jo eph Johnson (commonly called “ Smiflle nosed Joe.”) The throwing exhibited great skill and precision, the result uudoubti dly of long prac tice ; and Uhhot of young Duiker's that knocked out three panes of glass from an unoccupied house, some three rods oil, el,cited loud and continued applause from the audience. S " The Precocious Swearer,” In which Ma ter Albert Wiggins (Swearing Al) exhibited the greatest skill and ingenuity in the use of profane lunguuge, Inventing on the spot several original and peculiarly re/'reshiiij; oaths, and closing with an interesting trial of skill between the young gentleman mid his si Pt, M iS Henrietta Maria Wiggins, ( Druggie tail Ki tty, ) in which it "a difficult to di eide which cursed the hardest. 8. Throwing Mud by the entire school. This was a highly exhilarating performance, but as an old gentleman a itb a bald lo ad and green spec tacles (who sal hy our side on a pile of coal) re marked when a large plaster fell on this top of bis head, “ perhaps a little too exciting to be pleas ant.” 5. Recital.on— by Master Job Walker, (known as “ Hookey :'')—" My name is normal on tlie Grampus hills, my father feeds Iuh flock of frugal swine, whose only care was to sell out his store and keep his only son hisself to home.” f>. Rehearsal hy five young geritlemen—Iiull, Chnffcy, Sneak, Squictelu and Ifardhake -show lag in a beautifully illustrative manner the melli od of picking pockets, “ prigging wipe*;” etc., followed u)i by a general cry of “ Fire” from the school, explanatory of the trimmer of raising u false alarm. 0. Song -hy Miss Julia McClannagln : “ They took a pair of shears And closely cropped his ears, fpny, lie howled as thought that the Devil was to And then it was u sin Ills tail was driven In, Which spoiled the looks of poor dog Trny.” f Vio/av ‘ Old dog T ray, In- is frightful, Ac. 7. Recitation Muster Orville Gardiner, Jr., (Voting Awful : ’• liens prigs vnt isn’t lii/.en, r<» hr * inletud will go to prison.” (Irund Churnf •• We wont get ootcheil,” followed hv the reeitative, “ Oh, crickey 1 don't I love my mother.” The performances closed by an imitation of the \ ir r iuin Jig ami ISrcukdown w ith Jit ba aee(itn|i:inifncnt , by Master Ilarrv Hkew bnll, which was executed in n manner truly ereditahh in one so young A surprise for the gifted instructor followed, which wnsgot up and executed with admirable eflect. be ing Called on to appear, Mr Flat broke eamo forward with embarrassed looks and diflident ly bowed to the audience, evidently expect ing thut he was about to receive a tin cup, with a suitable inscription. Judge of his happy surprise when the school urose, each member placing his thumb to his nose, and, performing a semi-circle with the fingers, shout ed in admirable concert, ‘‘Ob, don’t you wish you may get it ?” Mr. Flatbroke, placing bis hand on his heart, bowed gracefully and wus ubout to express his feelings in a neat speech, when the proprietor of the adjacent coal-yard, alarmed at the tumultuous con duct, and uproarious shouts of the school, came forward, and with *t few well-directed bricks udjourued the weetinjf. J P.” The Cacse of President Taylor’s Deahi. ! —A correspondent of the Cleveland Her rid was riding in the cars n short time since, and reports n conversation which passed be tween the Hon. Thotnas Ewing and some one else: ‘ I was at the President’s honsc on theSd of July,’ he said. ‘Gen Taylor had received nn invitation to attend the celebrntion on the following day, and hear a speech by Sen ator Foote. Thottgh Mr. Foote was a mem ber of the opposition party, he was a gentle man, and the President felt disposed to show him all the respect possible. He did not, however, immediately conclude to accept the i invitation. ' Having taken mt leave, I had not yet reached the street on my return, when a mes senger overtook me to say that the Presi dent would attend the celebration, and de sired that 1 should accompany him. ‘ Seats were assigned us in tho shade of the Washington Monument. Foote made a good speech of reasonable length, and sat down. It was then announced that the cere mony of the presentation of a block by the district of Columbia, would take place im mediately, at the opposite side of the Monu ment. ‘ The presentation speech would be made by Walter .Tones, on the part of the district, and the reply would lie given bv Mr. Sea ton, in behalf of the Monument Association. The President a-ked me if tho speeches would probably be short. As 1 knew both the speakers to he men of few words nnd many thoughts, I replied that the exercises would certainly he brief. Accordingly the President concluded to remain, and we re paired to the other side of the monument. ‘ Mr Jones made a speech, which was brief, and to the point, and sat down. Mr. Seaton then arose and Raid that lie was gratified to lie able to announce that Mr. (’. had consented to make the speech in re ply to Mr. Jones. 1 at once concluded that we were dead men. I knew the proposed .speaker, aid was certain thut wo were doomed to hear a long speech. I endeav ored to persuade the President to retire, Imt he was unwilling to do so. Wo endured the intense heat for nn hour and a half be fore this speech was dime. ‘ The President went home wearied by tho length of tho exercises, and suffering from long exposure to the heat, In the evening I heard that he was v iolently ill. I repaired to tho mansion, and urged tho family to cull a physician immediately, but tho Presi dent was unwilling that if should bo don • I then induced the family physician to call us a friend, and request to sou General Taylor. Hut the sick man refused to see him. On the following itfLrnobn I called again, and us the President desired to see me, I was admitted to his room He was lying on a sofa, apparently destitute of pain, uml very cheerful. ‘ lie desired to hear the news, and I told him of ns many ngrceublo circumstances ns I could. When 1 left his room, after nti hour’s conversation; I wus quite confident that lie would soot: he well. I very soon heard, however, that his disease had returned with renewed violence, and that he was suf fering with intense agony. I hastened to the telegraph office to send for Ids son-in law, Hr. Wood, ahkilful physician of Baltimore. The despatch could not be sent that night, so the doctor did not arrive until the next evening—too late to lie of any avail. ‘ The President failed rapidly, and expired in a short time. 1 shall ever believe that his death muy be traced to the last long speech, which was made on the fourth of July, j Such an effect wus, of course, not intended by the speaker. This is an instance of mur der without malice. ■ I immediately handed in my resignation to Mr Fillmore, to take effect in a few days!’ “ Mas. Quigo, is your husband a Know- Nothing ?” “ 1 guess so, for he told me this morning that somebody had been making a fool of him ?” The crops on the Merced river have been . sadly injured by the drought, and in many eases will not be worth harvesting. m »» » Prentice, of the Louisville Journal, tells that a wag once imposed upon the editor of the Baltimore Post the fifth chapter of Mat thew’s Gospel as an original article, aud that its origin was not discovered until the foreman of the office detected it in reading the proof-sheets. - — m -»■ A man named Charles Lewis committed suicide at Souora, recently, by taking mey-: NO. 17.