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T H E TRINITY JOURNAL 1« PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING BY SEAMAN & GORDON. - ■» — ■ ■ — H. J. SEAMAN, D. E. GORDON, Editor s and Proprietors. Office on Main St. nearly opposite St. Charles Hotel. Terms.- The Journal will be furnished to sub scrilxrs at the following rates : For one year “ six months 5 00 “ three months 3 00 Advertisements conspicuously inserted on the following terms: One square, first inssrtion 00 For each subsequent insertion 2 00 A square consists of Ten lines, or less. A reasonable reduction from the above rates will l»e made to yearly advertisers. BOOK & JOB PRINTING. Having recently made large additions to our atock of J on Hist; MATEMAJ.S , we are now prepared to execute every description of' f»t AIN fcFMItYPflWrWO 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. i( Life on the Ocean Wave. “ A Life on tlie Ocean Wave! ” The man who wrote it was green; He never has linen to sea. And a storm lie never hus seen. ne never lias seen a wave As it dashed o’er the vessel’s deck; He never has seen a fire at sea, Or been floating upon a wreck. He never has been aroused From ids morning’s gentle doze, By the sound of splashing water, As it fell from the horrid hose. lie never has heard a man Scrubbing right over his head, With a noise sufficient to rouse From the grave the slumbering dead. lie never has seen a fat woman Growing thinner day by day. And leaning over the vessel’s side, Throwing herself away. While people look carelessly on. Though in tears the woman may be, And unfeelingly say it is nothing at all, Only the roli of the sea. And oh! ho has never been sea-sick, And crept into bed in his coat. While every motion increased his throes, And his feelings were all in his throat. That man may have sailed in a boat, In some puddle or on a sound, But if he has been to sen, and wrote Such a song, ho deserves to be drowned. Cooi..—A gentleman related, in order to show liow common was the calamity of the toupde solnl or stroke of the sun, in the Isl and of -lava, that, sitting once in the house of an opulent merchant, of Biitnvin, drink ing a <ml glass of Madeira after dinner, with the merchant’s wife in the room, the lady ; was, in the twinkling of an eye, reduced ton heap of ns firs by a stroke of the sun ; when the husband observed to his guest, “ Don’t be alarmed —we are accustomed to this then rang the bell with great composure, and on the appearance of the servant, coolly said, “ Boy, sweep your mistress out, and bring us \ dean glasses' ’ - - ■—-«*•■ . j Tiik jSmador Etvtinel should have given the Globe credit for a portion of its (the Sentinel's) reply to the paragraph in the Lra. Wc now call the editor into court on the charge of “ literary larceny,” and we defy him to escape a verdict of guilty ! And the editor of the Sentinel is a fight ing man, too, ns well as a pilferer ot para graphs and a slanderer of women. lie boasts of “pretty well bruising up the little ]><pin jay" who crossed him in the ball-room. If this chivulric editor were put through a reg ular course of pugalistic training under Sul livan, we have no doubt lie could be made to “ whip any sick woman” in his village.— (I-i-t ?— Golden Era. 1 his is not the lirst V.juo the Sentinel man has been pilfering. The closing re marks of the Era are very appropriate. „ A Faix. 'The Yazoo (Miss.) American Banner, whereof the fair Mrs. Frewett is proprietress, announces that its political edi tor, IV B. Mayes, Esq., has been elected Probate Judge of the county; whereupon the Banner exclaims: ‘What a fall was there, my countrymen !’ And the fair editress continues: ‘Though we congratulate the Judge upon his success,, wc feel a little chagrined and mortified at his want of spirit and ambition in accepting the ofliee of Judge, after filling the high and mighty position of editor of the Yazoo American Banner. We will never lave hopes of any of our friends again after this fall.’ Jr was among the loveliest customs of the ancicute to bury the young at morning twi light ; for as they strove to give the softest interpretation to death, so they imagined that Aurora, who loved the young, had stolen tbeio to her embrace. Anecdote of Jackson. —The Tf estern Christian Advocrate records the following interesting anecdote of Jackson. The scene of it was in the Tennessee Annual Confer ence held at Nashville, and to which he had been invited by a vote of the brethren that they might have the pleasure of an intro duction to him: The committee was appointed, and the General fixed the time for 9o’clock on Mon day morning. The Conference room being too small to accommodate the hundreds who wished to witness the introduction, one of the churches was substituted, and an hour before the time filled to overflowing. Front sent* were reserved for the members of the Conference, which was called to order by the Bishop, seated in n large chair in the altar, just before the pulpit. After prayers the committee retired, and a minute after ward entered, conducting the man whom all delighted to honor. They led him to the Bishop’s chair, which was made vacant for him, the Bishop meanwhile occupying an ; other place within the altar. The Secretary was directed to call the names of the members of the Conference, which lie did in alphabetical order, each coming forward and receiving from the Bbh op a personal introduction to the ex-Prcsi dent and immediately retiring to give place to the next. The ceremony had nearly been completed, when the Secretary rend the name of Rev. James T ; an elderly gen tleman, with a weather-beaten face, clad in n suit of jeans, arose and come forward. Few seemed to know him. He had always been on circuit, on the frontier; and though al ways at Conference, he never troubled it with long speeches, but kept his seat, and said little—that little, however, was to the purjlose. Mr. T came forward, and was introduced to General Jackson. Ho turned his face towards the General, who said, 'It seems to me that we have met be fore.’ Tiie preacher, apparently embar rassed, said, 'I was with you through the Creek campaign—one of your body guard at the battle of Horse Shoe—and foucri 1 1 under your command at New Orleans.’ The General arose slowly from his seat, and throwing his long, withered, bony arms around the preacher’s neck, exclaimed:— ‘We’ll soon meet where there’s no war whore the smoke of battle never rolls up its sulphurous incense!’ Never before or since, have I seen so many tears shed as then flowed from the eyes of that vast, assembly. Every eye was moist with weeping. Kleven years have passed aw ay since that day. The old hero has been more than ten in his silent and narrow home. The voice that cheered the drooping fight, and thun dered in the rear of routed armies is silent forever. The old preacher too, has fought his last battle, laid his armor by, and gone home to his eternal rest. Precocity of this Go-Ahead Ace.— We never read accounts of extreme advance in life, without thinking of the remarkable pro gress the present age is making, and to help it along, the precocity of modern youthhood, ns illustrated : “ Grandfather,” said a saucy imp, “ how old are you ?” “ The old gentleman, who had been a sol dier of the revolution, and was much under the ordinary size, took the child between his knees, and patting him on the head with all the fondness of a second child of life, said,” “ My dear boy, Fin ninety-live years old,” am! then commenced to amuse the In*’ w ith some of the incidents in th*. storv 0 f bislife, at 1 "‘2 conclusion of which he addressed the youngster : “ But my sou yhy did you ask the question ?”—when the little rascal, with all the importance of a Napoleon, strutted off, and hitching up the first pair of panta loons lie ever wore, after approved suilor’s fashion, replied I “ Well, it appears to me you are darned small of your age.” There is always a scarcity of the right kind of birch where such boys nre raised. — IIawkins, editor of the Placer Press, has been admitted to the practice of law. We thought him above it. We black-ball him from the “ tripod.”— Golden Era. That’s always the way ! When a man gets started down hill every body gives him a kick. Go on, Mr. Era ! You don’t know what you may come to, yourself, some day. Placer Press. Hawkins ! we forgive you. But you must admit that you have brought shame upon the profession by being made a lawyer of—be sides, who will believe anything you publish hereafter, knowing you to be a Lic-curgus ? Golden Era, DEVOTED TO THE INTERESTS OF TRINITY COUNTY. WEAVERVILLE. TRINITY COUNTY, CAL.. SATURDAY MORNING. JUNE 7. \m. [The subjoined piece of poetry, 1ms. we believe, been publish, (1 in our columns, but nt the request of some of out lady readers wo give place to it again.—En.} “Do they 'Vliss mo nt Home.” I>o they miss me at home, do they miss me ? 'Twould be an assurance most dear, To know at this moment some loved one Were saying. 1 wish he were here. To know that the group at the fireside, Were thinking of me as 1 roam. Oit vrs, 'twould be joy beyond measure To know that they miss me at home. When twilight approaches, the season That ' Vet* is saen d to song. Does some one ivp at my name over. And sigh that I tarry so long, Ard ; s there a chord in tin* music That's m'ssed when my vo ce is away. And a chord in each heart that awakeili llegret at my wentisome stay. Do they S' t me A chair at the table When evening’s home pleasures are nigh, When the Candles are lit in the parlor, And the stars in the calm azure sky. And when the “good nights” are repeated, And all lay them down to sweet sleep, Do they think of the absent, and waft me A whisper,d “ goodnight” while tin y sleep ! Do they miss me nt home, do they miss me ? At morning, at noon, or at night. And lingers one gloomy shade round thorn That only my presence can l'ght. Are joys loss invitingly welcome. And pleasures less hale than before, Because one is missed from the c'rcle, Because I am with them no more. [Prom tile Wdo WVst of Juno 1st.] “To the Lush conics the hud; the flower to the plain ; Rut the l>mve and the pond rnmo never again. ” The Mahtyiwom Compute— The lit man, tlie fell purpose, n (1 user’s pressure on the fatal trigger, nnd Crime makes the Patriot a martyr. A slight report, soon succeeded Ry silence, yet how wide-spread nnd mighty its effects ! A momentary flash, nnd then the shadow of sorrow fell on the hills ami valleys of the State, from the Sierra to the sen. Hope, striving with Pate, postponed fora season the coming of Despair, and then all was over. It was only left for her to point with tearful eyes to the upward path of the departed one, nnd with silent, sad gesture urge ns to emulate his example.— James Kixg oe William was dead to earth. The noble heart that had swelled with the glowing thoughts to which his pen gave ut terance had ceased its throbbing*. The souls his eloquence had stirred into indignation against Wrong and action for the Right, bowed at his death with the sorrow that could not lie consoled fur the calamity was irreparable. Norctrilaition could bring him back ; no act of speedy justice render his presence less necessary. Mighty ns was the work he lmd done, it was but a tithe of that left for him had lie been spared. To him was vouchsafed the rare gift of touching u people’s heart : in that we fear he lias no successor. The mantle may full on another, on one in till else worthy ; but it will cover no heart to which so many others will beat responsive, lie was not alone (lie instruc tor, lut the friend of those who listened to his utterances, nnd his personal influence was only exceeded by his power as a journalist. Men, women and children alike gathered n ronnd him, In a unanimous tribute to his worth and talent. And each of those feels to-dav a void in the heart—a frit-lid absent from the side ; to each the loss is personal to nil irremediable. The flowers that spring over his grave may, in the laud hi- made h's home, hloom at till seasons. Ills tomb will ever be tloub ly-hnll'twcd ground. And the monument that tells a pa-sing stranger where n grate ful people shrined his memory in mjirblc will be but one nnd the least ,,f the't'nou snnds that will clustey around domestic hearths in the b',.onjs r .,\ mothers and child ren. j’.ivu, ibe editor, has passed nwny ns passed, v’iay the statesman ; but the great hearts of both are still bound to those of the people *»y the silver cords their good deeds wrought in tlo-ir life-time ; and which will never be severed while thenxiom retains its truth that “ the memory of the heart is Gratitude.”— TJ ale 11 is/. The Burlington Seatin'-/ is r -sponsible fur the following. Whether IiheHous or not, wc leave to our reader* : I’oor Adam was a slender our, Cast on a raging tide, Good people say. till Eve was made His luiior to divide ; lint my opinion leans to this tle hud enough before, For while with one he tnnnaged well, With two he went ashore. A late Illinois paper contains the an nouncement of the marriage of R. W. Wolf to Mary L. Lamb. “The wolf and the lamb shall lie down together, and a little child shall lead them”—after awhile. That malicious jade, Mudutnc Rumor, de clares that the girls arc leaving off the hoop style of dress, because it “ keeps husbands at a distance.” « As editor, speaking of a drink lie once had occasion to indulge in, said lie cottldn t tell whether it was brandy or a torchlight procession going down bis throat. A Trce Hero. —Wo take the following infercstinr anecdote from the Illustrated London Sews. It, sho ild l>e* published und read all over the j;I«>l>e: On the night of the 31«t of January, the packet from Hover to Calais, after experi encing very heavy weather, was finable, in consequence of the continued violence of the storm, to enter the port of Calais. Two English travelers on board expressed great anxiety to catch the train for Paris, and in sisted on being allowed to land. I'or this purpose they got into a boat with three sail ors. The boat had hardly left the ship's side w hen she was capsized by a tremendous sen, and the whole five were precipitated in to the sea. An English gentleman, who had remained on deck, immediately took o(T his coat and sprang into the sea, and at the imminent hazard of his own life, succeeded in reaching two of the unfortunate passen gers, and brought them safely to the ship’s ladder, lie was himself assisted upon deck, little or none the worse—the wetting ex cepted—for his gallant exploit. Onturning round he saw the other three persons strug gling in the water, or holding on to the side of the boat. Once more, in the coolest man ner possible, lie leaped into the sea, and suc ceeded, to the admiration of all on board, in rescuing them. Thus the whole five were saved. The gentleman, with a modesty ns rare ns it was noble, refused to give his name, insisting that he had merely done his duty. The circumstances w< re made known in Calais in the morning; and when the pas sengers landed, the authorities of the town presented themselves to thank the hero of the adventure, and to demand his passport. The passport on being produced bore the name of Lieutenant General Sir Stephen Lakemnn. The | ttblie will remember this gallant soldier in connection with the Kaffir war—for his services in which he received the honor of Knighthood. They will also remember h’s name in connection with the war on the Danube, and his successful main tenance of the rights of the Sultan in the principalities, when he was Governor of the town of Bucharest. Sir Stephen holds the rank of Lieutenant General in the service of the Sultan, nmh r the title of Mazlmr Pacha. We learn from Calais, that the Sncicte de Secours Mutuel of the Department of the Seine, a Soiiety instituted for the protect'on of lives from shipwreck, has just named him one of its Honorable Presidents, and for warded hint its gold medal, together with its diploma of membership—the hitter hearing - ' date the l/ith of February. The true hero in War is the true hero in pence. All expe rience tenches this—and the hrillinnt exam ple of S r Stephen Lakemnn affords another and striking instance of it. Tut-: Vmit.AvrT (Vmmittke— The Prrifir., n religions pnper published at San Frane'seo, asks the following question, and replies to it : “ What is tlie Vigilance ('ommit tec of San Francisco? The truest and most direct rep resentation po-sibloof the people. The vo’ce of the community has in each instance call ed the Committee into existence. They are not an independent and separate body ; Imt. a popular organ ze.tion of men from every profession f.'iid rank of life ; who so thor ough', v und< island and consciously carry out the wiii of the pi oj le, that they lire w illing to ri-k everything, fortune, honor, safety in the r act on ; for if they transcend the peo ple’s w ill, all is at stake. So fur from being an irresponsible body, they are the most rc spnnsihle body in the world ; for there is no shelter of authority under which they hide’ themselves if they do wrong.” 9 Mus. Hat kis says if a man wants h's chil dren to look I ke him, the fewer jaunts he makes to California, the better. Observing old lady. The old fogy who poked his head from “behind the times,”had it knocked soundly by a “ passing event.” A I .over, writing to bis beloved, says : — “ Delectable dear—Von are so sweet that honey would blush in your presence, and mo lasses stand appalled.” Yankee Jim’s vs. McKean Buchanan.— Quite a feeling exists between the citizens of the above named place and the 'eminent' tragedian. He says ‘the braying of an ass would call into existence a better town than Yankee Jim’s;’ and the citizens think if the ass but spoke he* would be a better actor than McKean Buchanan. —Iowa Ilill yeas. An oi.d Whig counsels tho survivors of that party not to be humbled over tho cry thut their party has been swallowed. lie says: ‘The whale swallowed Jonah. Jonah was heard of aftcrw*rds-thc whale never!’ Tlu* I ni migrant'a Dying Child. Father ! I'm hunger'd ! give mo lir< ad ; Wrap dost- my shivering form ! Cold Mows the wind around my bend, And wildly boats the storm ; Trot' ot mo from tbo angry sky, I si r'lik bonontb its wrath, Ai d droml Ill's torrent rush'tig by, Which intercepts our path. Father ! those California skies You su'd were bright and Idaml— But where, to-night, my pillow lies— h this t' fqohle'i hmri ! 'Tis well my little sister sleeps, Or else silo, too, would grieve ; But only see how st'il she sleeps— She has not stirred since eve. I’ll k'ss her ami perhaps she’ll speak ; She’ll k'ss me hack. 1 know, O. father ! only touch her check, ‘Tis cold as very snow ! Fntlu r ! you do not shed a tear, Yet Bttle Jane has died ; 0. promise when you leave vie here, To lay me by her side ! And when yon pass the torrent cold, We’ve come so far to see, And yon go on. beyond, for gold. (>. think of Jane and met Fattier, I'm weary! rest my head rpnn thy bosom warm— Cold Mows the wind about my head, And wihllv heats the storm! American Characteristic*. —The follow ing is from » lute number of the Presbyteri an (Quarterly Pevteir : “ We now come to the other characteris tic of Amici icons. Xi t < n/y is ei>ry woman trritetl as a lady, because she ts a woman, but /his i.s (l, tic ly every American. It is not es pecially clumicteristie of city or country, of ciiltivntion or want of cultivation, of the old States or the new ; wherever there is a wo man who behaves modestly, from the one ocean to the other, she has a ]irotcctor in every American she meets. This is exceeding ly beautiful. It deserves more eulogy than it has attained. The world has never seen anything l.ke it. For observe one sign of its deep beauty anti significance. In the masses it is an unconscious grace anil excel lence. Two-thirds of the men who will put themselves to the mo t generous inconveni ence for any woman whatever, just because she i- a woman, would hardly understand a compliment u| on the matter. It is a thing of course, like kindness to a parent, or tak ing a child out of danger. Trie American simjly feels that a man vfw trill nil ci nsult a iiy m n's ci nif< rt, in yrefe erne ta his men, is a brute; and so the whole thing lies in a nut shell. This is a foundation of immeasurable hope. Xo yenjle, in any me thing, ever came sneinlly, so verr I he Ah/enium. If men could only take another step in this direction, and man ife-t a little more politeness toward each other ! It is obvious, however, that anoth er and a d.fTi rent (trine pie here comes in the sturdiness, vigor ami self-help character istic of our race. Melt, they think, if they are worth nnylh'ng, can take care of them selves. If they have any business with each other, they may ns well be civil, but what is the use of perpetual itow’ng, and smiling, si ini slink ng I and-', ntnl taking off of hats ? A grent deni of use in it we say, if it pro mob s good feei ng, makes its nil better and happier, and it would tend j owerfully to make the great Anglo American race gen tlemen externally as well as internally. To this, as a people, we have not attain t'd. ( nr manners, is a whole, are lintl.- 7 here is o hnndml tunes /he /tininess /hat ay years m /he. surface a tlion si ml limes more, ecurtesy hi. nun's heir Is limn there is in their ae'ims ; I ml Arnerir ns are const rnt/ii smoth ering ih ini gnoil feeling, whir/) custom wilt not I time them to e.ryress, leerii.se it is ml a nsi'l tre.l minly. Manners of any chdiorntiou are considered, if not deceitful, yet danger ous ; and if is utmost as much as any one’s character for honesty is worth, to say the simple truth in the way of commendution of a book, a lecture, a speech, or a good ac tion. While every one, of course. I kes to be honestly praised, the reputation of a Ihit terer, or of u mere echo of a distinguished man, is amongst the most repulsive possible to A nierienns. Our minim rs, in truth, great ly need amendment, or rather formation. - We are not so much tin ill-mannered as an uiimniincred race. We get through oar bus iness and devotion in some kind of straight forward nWkwnrd fashion, and so that no one is knocked down and hurt in n days operations, we feel as if we were sufely through that twenty-four hours. There is a great deal of wilfulness in this. Ueenusc we can fight bravely, we think we will be us rough as we choose; because deceit is char acteristic of courts and worn out aristocra cies, we determine that we will be blunt; and because French nnd Ital’an often make themselves ridiculous by grimaces, We will make ourselves stiff and disagreeable ‘I take leave to say,’ observes Mr. Thackeray, 'that courteousness can he out of place at no time, nnd under no flag. A politeness and simplicity, ft truthful manhood, a gentle respect uud deference, be kept us the unbougbt grace of l ife ( and cheep do fence of mnnk‘nd, lone after its old artificial distinctions have passed away/ Bat there is another remarkable Ameri can trait, which shows how deeply true conr t’svnnrt refiminent hare struck into the heart of the nation, although it is difficult to br.ng it to the surface in polished mau nors. We nllnde to the unquestionable fact, that Mr Americans creel all naltonsin delicacy of expression, and in eren renin tic avoidanct of everything that could, by possibility, offend the feelings cf milest in men. Foreigners, men ami women, call this sqneaviishness, but wo do not think it is. It springs, we think, from the noblest part of human nature. So fur from a sign of corruption, we consider it a sign of what is an unquestionable fact, that there is more, domestic ■purity in America, than in any other a untry in the known world. In these very letters of Sydney Smith— though lie was u man of unquestionable pu rity of morals, and is writing to ladies of high rank, as well as to others to whom he was much attached, who were not quite so high in social position—there are fifty ex pressions that no gentleman would think of using in writing to ladies in America. There rises before the mind of every gentleman in this western world, when writing to a lady, an tihei of parity and loveliness, which, from an unconscious feeling that it ought to be her character, lie associates w ith her ns if it were, and this prevents him front saying anything that appears to him calculated to so I that unsullied excellence upon which ho delights to dwell ns an ideal. Whether this lie the correct theory or not, it is strictly true us a fact, that the delicacy of America is very fur in advance of that in any other country. This appears even in the place where we should be least disposed to look for it—tin’ theatre. We are assured that foreign plnvs have to be expurgated before they can lie produced oil the American stage. The manager will not risk the respectability of his tlieat re by producing that which passes freely in Knghind, an I much less that which pleases the fancy of France and Germany. ♦ ♦ What Woman can iki.— As a wife nnd mother, says the HVw ns Allocate, woman can make nr mar the fortune and happiness of her liiiislmml and children; mid even if she ill I nothing r ise, surely this would be a sufficient destiny. By her thrift, prudence and tact, she can secure to her partner and herself a competence in old nge, no matter how s inn 11 tlnir beginnings, nr how adverse n fate may occasionally be theirs. By her chccrfnliii ss, she can restore her husband's sprits, shaken by the anxieties of business. Ily her tender enre, she can often restore him to health, if disease has seized upon his overtasked powers. By her counsels a: d her love, site ran win him from bad company, if temptation, in an evil hour, has led him astray. l»y her example, her precepts and her sex’s insight into character, she can mould her children, however diverse their dispositions, into good and noble men ami women. And by leading in all things a true and heaiitifiil life, she can reline, elevate uud sp,ritualize all who eoiirr within reach, so, that with others of her sex emulating and assisting her, sin* can eventually do more to regenerate the world than all the statesmen or reformers that ever legislated. She can do imicli, nlas! perhaps even more, to de grade man, if she chooses it. Who can esti mate the evil that woman has the power to do? As u wife she can ruin her husband by cxtravngnnec, folly, or want of affection.— She can make a devil ami outcast of a man, who might otherwise have become a good member of society. She can bring bicker ings, strife and perpetual d.senrd into what has been n happy home. She can change the innocent Imbes whom God lias entrusted to her charge into vile men anil women.— She can lower the moral tone of society it self, and thus pollute legislation at the springhead. She can, in fine, become an instrument of evil, instead of an angel of good. Instead of making llowcrs of truth, purity, beauty nnd spirituality spring up in In r footsteps till the whole earth smiles with loveliness that is almost celestial, she can transform it to n black and blasted desert, covered with the scorn of ull evil passions, and swept by the bitter blasta of everlast ing death. This is what woman can do for the wrong as well as f«»r the r>ght. Is her mission a l td' one? lias she no worthy work,’ as Inis become the cry of lute? Mon may have a linrdir trn-k »o perform, a rough er path to travel, but he has none loftier or more influential than womans. A Con. Wlmt word may be pronounced quicker by adding « syllable to it ? Quick. IbiSTt’a famous line, “ All hope abandon ye who enter here has been recommended as a motto far fadrau-d (;gr$ t NO. 20.