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T H E TRINITY JOURNAL IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING BY BEAMAN A, GORDON. H. J. SEAMA.V, D. E. GORDON, Editori and Proprietors. Office on Main St. nearly opposite St. Charles Hotel. Terms.—Tlic Journal will he furnished to sub scribers at the following rates : For one year $10 00 six months 5 00 “ three months 3 00 Advertisements conspicuously inserted on the following terms: One square, first inssrtion $ 1 00 For each subsequent insertion 2 00 JSB~ A square consists of Ten lines, or less. A reasonable reduction from the above rates w ill 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 FLAW &FAWCY PRINTING in the best style of the art, and with promptness and despatch. ?Ftr Orders from abroad for Advertising or Job Printing, to ensure prompt attention, should in all cases be accompanied with the Cash. “ The used-up Shoulder-Striker." [The followingsong was sung hy Ur. Robinson, at the Union Theater, San Francisco, on the 2lith nit., to a large audience.] Oh I’m a used up man, that all of you can sec : And what I once have fondly been. I never more shall be. The times is got so awful bad, aud nature looks so cloudy, That I begin to think I’m a regular used up row dy. I came to San Francisco, to help sustain the na tion, And for my party 1 have worked in almost cvejy station ; I’ve bit and gouged, and knifed and shot, and helped each lighting butler ; And ulways on election day was chosen ballot stutfer. CHORUS. Oh I’m a used up man, a perfect used up man ; If ever 1 get home again, l’U stay there if I cau. Our party once could rule the town—no party e’er was bolder :— And if with votes they got us down, we’d take ’em on the shoulder. With Belcher, Kay, and Mulligan, Jim. Hughes and Ed. McGowan, We at the polls could always find pretext to raise a row on: And thus for years we’ve rul’d the State, and al ways rul’d the city ; But in the public heart wo find no gratitude or pity. They say the wealth that we possess w as got by public thieving. And ask their w rongs that we redress, by packing up and leaving. Chorus—Oh I’m a used up man, Ac. ’Tis very hard to block our game, and cause us to surrender ; But we prefer it to the rope, because our necks are tender. So, one by one they're stepping out and weaken ing my condition, And shouldcr-hltting’s got so sick ’twont heal with a physician. A pettifogger once could save the w orst rogue in the city, But now the lawyers have to cave to the Vigilance Committee. But there’s some Vigilance men out there—do they want me I wonder? Yes, that’s the dodge, but no you don't, I'm going to leave, by thunder. Chorus —Oh I'm a used up man, Ac. Fanny Fern. We make the following extracts from Fanny Fern's “Peeps from under a Parasol.” “And speaking of books, here comes Walt. Whitman, author of‘Leaves of (trass,’ which, by the way, 1 have not read. His shirt collar is turned off from his muscular throat, and his shoulders are thrown back us if even in that fine, ample chest of his, liis lungs had not sufficient play-room.— Mark his voice ! rich—deep and clear, as a clarion note. In the most crowded thor oughfare, one would turn instinctively on hearing it, to seek out its owner. Such a voice is a gift rare as it is priceless. A fig for phrenology I Let me but hear the voice of man or woman and I will tell you what stuff its owners are made of. One of the first things 1 noticed in New York, was the sharp, shrill, squcekiug, unrefined, vixenish, uneducated voices of its women. How inev itably such disenchanting discord breaks the s|>ell of beauty ! Fair New Yorkers, keep your mouths shut, if you would concpier. * * * * * Vinegar cruets and vestry meetings ! here come a group of Bostonians ! Mark their puckered, spick-and-span self-complaisance ! Mark that scornful gathering up of their skirts as they sidle away from that gorgeous Magdalen who, Uod pity and help her, may repent in her robes of unwomanly shame ; but they in their “mint and anise,” white washed garments — never! ***** And here, by the rood, comes Fanny Fern! Fanny is a woman. For that she is not to blame, though since she first found it out, she has never ceased to deplore it. — She might be prettier, she might be younger. She might be-older, she might be uglier.— She might be better, she might be worse. She has been both over-praised and over abused, and those who have ubused her worst, have imitated and copied her most. One thing may be said in favor of Fanny ; she was not, thank Providence, born in the beautiful, back biting, sanctimonious, elan deriug, clean, coutumelious, pharasaieal, pbiddlede-dee pcck-ffl«ft8ttT« city of Boston ! THE TRINITY JOURNAL. The Dramatic Fund Entertainment in this city, last week, says the Spirit of the Times, was an occasion of marked interest, which our limits compel us to notice in the brief est manner. Much of the speaking was very good, and there was nothing better in its way than the response by Hiram Fuller, Esq., to a toast to “ Woman.” lie said : Since the time of Adam, who, instead of “ popping the question” to his beautiful part ner in Paradise, went quietly to sleep a lone ly bachelor, and woke up a happy married man, to speak for one woman has been con sidered rather an embarrassing effort for the bravest of us—how overwhelming, then, must be the feeling of diffidence to a man of moderate modesty who is called on to speak for the entire sex ! But, Mr. President, the toast—the senti ment —(for ‘ Woman’ is all sentiment) —to which 1 am called to respond, is full of in spiration ; and while it requires all the gems of eloquence, and all the jewels of poetry to do justice to this little word “ woman”—the dearest word in all the dictionary—which represents the fairer and better half of cre ation, —yet there is a silent homage of the heart, a mute eloquence of the eye, burning and beaming with the emotions “ awakened by the inspiring theme,”compared with which the rhetoric of even the most gifted tongue could only make us more sensibly feel the ut ter poverty of speech ! 1 certainly feel, Mr. President, highly complimented by the honor of being permit ted to express on this occasion the senti ments which our rougher, coarser, colder half of humanity bear toward the fairer, the brighter, the lovelier hemisphere of our com mon being. 1 trust there has never lived a man so utterly unblessed and desolate of soul, who has not at some period of his life met with some breathing, beautiful counter part of his fairest ideal angel, to whom he could sing and drink with the poet : — “ 1 fill 1 his cup, to one made up Of loveliness alone ; A being of her gentle sex The seeming paragon, To whom the bitter elements And kindly stars hnve given A form so fair, that like tiie air, •She's less of earth than heaven.” From the rainbow-hued reminiscences of “ love’s young dream,” down to the “sober certainties of icedded bliss,” how our fondest and holiest associations accumulate and clus ter around '■ That hallowed form Which first love traced.” The sacred mother of our pain-bought be ing ; the loving, playmate sister of our child hood ; the dear, devoted companion of our manhood ; and the fond and filial daughter who cheers and sustains our decaying years, as the flower vines support and adorn the ruins—in each and all of these relations is not woman infinitely dearer to us than any words can express ? The light of our home, the joy of our heart—the star of our night— which, “ bike the gleaming taper's light, Illumes and cheers our way. And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.” In all the dear domestic relations of life ; and amidst all its troubled scenes, the pres ence and the love of Woman is like the mu sic of David to the dark spirit of Haul.— She lays her soft palms upon our troubled hearts, as the harper presses his hands up on the harp-strings, not to increase, but to still its vibrations. Whether we regard her as the rapt and radiant Madonna, beaming with the pure love-light of Eternity—or as the bowed and weeping Magdalen, dissolv ing at once her sins and her accusers in a flood of pearly tears —the warm rain that gushes from a broken heart. God forgive us, if our admiration of her human beauty rises into adoration of her supernal goodness. When the dying Marmiou called in vain upon all his retainers— “ To bring Some blessed water from the spring, To quench hi« (lying thirst,” it was the gentle hand of Clare that bathed his fevered brow and soothed his mortal pangs—winning from his passing soul that true and beautiful tribute to all her sex : “ When pain and languish wring the brow , A ministering angel thou.” And in that sublimest scene of human suf fering, before which heaven veiled its face and closed its eye—when the dying Sou of God was deserted by all his disciples, the weeping mother clung to him alone in the dark agonies of the cruciflction : “ She, w hen apostles shrank, could dangers brave, Last at his cross, and earliest at bis grave.” But, Mr. President, I have neither time, nor'tllfAights, nor langtiage, to do justice to the themeiVjVe cun say of the sun, it is bright ; of the woman, she is lovely—all else is a vaiu cna?SVtr^ 0 “dd gilding to the gold, or color to the rose, i haps I should 6&y something on this occac DEVOTED TO THE INTERESTS OF TRINITY COUNTY. WEA.VERVILLE, TRINITY COUNTY, CAL., SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 21, 1856. “Let the Toast be ‘ Dear Woman.’ ” of the illustriorrs women created by the gen ius of the Dramatist, —scarcely less real and beautiful than the works of God’s own hands ; and of the innumerable company of fair artistes, so brilliantly represented here to-night, who have devoted their talents and their lives to the palpable reproduction of the dreams of the dramatic poets. The life of the artiste is a life of toil and temptation. If it load to honor, fame and fortune, it is up a steep and thorny path ; and few who assay to climb it ever reach the summit of their hopes. These fair and radiant hero ines of the stage, whom we see nightly ar rayed in robes of beauty, and floating thro’ flowery realms of romance, often carry trag edy in their hearts, while comedy is laughing on their faces. And, Mr. President, it is for this toiling sisterhood of artistes, that your noble insti tution makes its most touching appeal to the universal heart of Charity. When sick ness, or “ Time’s effacing fingers" have “ sunk her beauties in decay,” your generous asso ciation invites the destitute sufferer to a comfortable bed ; smoothes her dying pil low ; and in the last act of the tragedy of life, the heart of the dying artiste beats gratefully to the music of fraternal sympa thy, as the curtain falls kindly upon the do sing scene. If it is expected, Mr. Presi dent, that I should give you a sentiment, it shall be •• Woman whom (Ioil created with a smile of And left the smile that made her oa her face.” Quoting Uiutish Aithorities. —British precedents in our courts are considered stand ard authorities for reference on doubtful points of law. The lute Judge Daniel, of Virginia, used to tell with great glee how, when a young man on the circuit, he saved a client's life, solely because the opposite counsel quoted from British authorities. It occurred during the last war, when the En glish squadron under Admiral Cock burn was ascending the Potomac river, burning and plundering the villages along its banks. A negro man was arraigned for the murder of one of his own color ; the offense was clearly proved, and the only chance for his escape was a slight informality in the indict ment. The prosecuting attorney, in reply to Mr. Daniels’defense of his client, quoted from British authorities, showing clearly that the ground taken by (lie latter was un tenable. While he was quoting and speak ing, at intervals, bang, bang, bang ! went the cannon from the British squadron. Dan iels rose to answer, and with great tact seized hold of the strong point of his oppo nent's cuusc, turning it completely against him. "Gentlemen,” said he to the justices on the bench, "the prosecuting attorney quotes on this occasion British authorities ! Brit ish authorities ! Can there be any one in this court room except himself so dead to patriotism, ns at such a moment to listen to British authorities, when British caunoii arc shaking the very wulls of this court house to their foundation ? I pause for a reply !’ Up jumped one of the justices, highly ex cited by this appeal, and thns addressed the prosecuting attorney : "Look here, Mr. A——, you hud better strike a bee line from this court house, with your British authori ties, or I’ll commit you ! Prisoner, you can go ! Crier, adjourn the court ! British authorities be d d !’ The prosecuting attorney was struck all in a heap at these extra judicial proceedings, and resigned his oflicc the very next day. Mb. Hodman meets a Ladv. —A gentle man by the name of ltodinan met a young Indy in Broadway a short time since,* and asked her to take a walk. The young lady assented, and they strolled up to the Park, where they sat down, uud talked of morn ing-glories and paradise. After spending an hour there, the young lady informed Mr. Hodman that she must start for homo, as her “ uia” expected her. Mr. Hodman ex pressed his regret, but as the yoilng lady in sisted, of course he had to yield. lie ac companied her to the sidewalk, where they kissed and parted. Shortly after the young lady left, Mr. H. missed a sixty-dollar breast pin. He fears the young lady took it when they were “swapping kisses.” Just our opinion exactly.— Ex. What mt Children got at School.-— A bevy of little children were telling their fa ther what they got at school. The eldest got grummar, geography, and arithmetic. The next got reading, spelling and definitions. “ Aud what do you get, my little sol dier ?” said the father to a rosy-cheeked lit? tie fellow who was at that moment silly dri ving a tenpenny nail into a door pauel. “ Mq ?—oh, i gets re&din’, spelling and The Old, Old Home. DY MARY. When I long for sainted memories, Like ungel troops they come, If I fold my arms to ponder Of the old, old home. The heart has many pas-ages, Through which the feelings roam, But its middle aisle is sacred To the thoughts of old, old home. Where infancy was sheltered. Like rose-buds from-the blast, Where girlhood's brief elysium In joyousness was passed ; To that sweet spot forever, As to some hallowed dome, Life’s pilgrim bends his vision, To the old, old home. A father sat. how proudly, By that hearth-stone's rays, And told his children stories Of his early' manhood’s days : And one soft eye was beaming. From child to child ’twoulu roam ; Thus a mother counts her treasures In the old, old home. The birth-day gifts and festivals, The blended vesper hymn, (Some dear one who was (welling it. Is with the Seraphim.) The fond “ good-nights’’ at bed-time, How quiet sleep would come, And hold us altogether, In the old, old home. Like a wreath of scented flowers, Close intertwined eacli heart; But time and change in concert Have blown the wreath apart. But Huiuted memories liike angels ever come, If 1 fold my arms and ponder On the old, old home. A Noble Sentiment. Charles W. Currigan, of l'iiiladelj>liia, in a recent eloquent speech delivered at the Democratic festival in New York, on the 22d of February, observed : “That the American Fuion and Oonsti nation had the head to think, the heart to feel, the muscle to work ; it was iron blis tered by the lire of trial into steel ; wine from the trodden grapes ! It was not fram ed upon expediency, but upon principle.— There has been men bold enough to calcu late the value of the Union : they hud cru cified it between the two thieves of Aboli tionism and Intolerance, and had cast lots for its raiment ; but public opinion had put these traitors to the rack. Our Union was not for to-day alone, but for ull time ; our country the home of all who seek relugc from oppression. Such is our Union—such is our country. It is the Malakoffthat will not be stormed ; it is the lledan of Liberty which cannot be taken. “ 'Tin tin* Union of lienrU, 'Tis the Union of lands, Which tyrants' worst cannot sever, 'Tis the union of hearts, Ami the union of hands, [Grasping Mr. Brady hy the hand.] Then the Hag of our Union forever !’’ Foreign presses iyay thunder their onuth emus, itqtt.lHwne'presses may preach treason, trflUono" cause w ill triumph, and that is the cause of the Union.” A Tough Story.—The l’itshurg /Irjirts.i fishes up the following paragraph from u paper published in J *107 : On a passage to Jamaica with troops on board, a little boy, who was a lifer, sitting on a gunwale, by a sudden roll of the ship, fell overboard and was directly swallowed by a shark A hook was baited with a piece of beef and thrown over the stern, w hich was seized by the shark and ho was presently hauled on board. On opening the shark the boy was found snugly seated between two ribs, and ' quite unconcerned playing a tune on his fife. Exposino Tin: Parson.— A minister tvus one Sabbath day examining the Sunday school in catechism before the congregation. The usual question was put to the first girl, a strapper, who usually assisted her father, who was a publican, in waiting upon custom ers. “ What is your name?” No reply. “ What is your name !” he repeated, in a more peremptory manner. "None of your fun, Mr. Minister,said | the girl. “ You know my name well enough., Pon’t you say when you come to our house, “Bet, give me a glass of ale!” The congregation, forgetting the sac-red ness of the place, were in a broad grin, and the parson passed the question to the next. Astronomers say that if a cannon ball w ere fired from the earth to Saturn, it would be one hundred and eighty years in getting there. in that event, Prof. John Phu-nix thinks the people of Saturn would have time to dodge the shot. Be IIaj-pv.—A little child, seven years old, one day said to her mother, “ Mother, I have learned to be happy, and I shall always be happy.” “ My dear,” said the mother, “ how can this be done?” “ It is by not oaring anything about my ;elf, bat trying to make every oue else happy.’ “ JIerb are two faces under one bat,” as the young lady remarked when her lover was kissing her, A Romance in Real Life. The editor of the Chicago Times, having been on the north side of that city to see a friend, was recently prevented from reaching his home, in consequcucc of a steam-tug having passed up the river with a small fleet of vessels in tow, one of which had been east off and hauled in just west of the bridge, leaving the “draw” still open.— While waiting, lie witnessed the following scene : “The vessel wo have mentioned was moored and made fast outside of several canal boats ; and as we stood looking at the men upon her, one of them approached a female, who had been crouched upon deck, and addressing her, (minted to the shore, then down toward the thronged and busy streets of living, moving, headlong Chicago. She rose, picked up a small bundle, from which she drew forth a coin, which she ten dered to the hardy sailor, lie refused it, whatever it was, and lending her a hand, helped her from the vessel to the dock, and from the dock up to tho bridge. By this time a large crowd of persons thronged the north end of where the bridge would ho if it were always a bridge ; and in contempla ting the new faces, and tho representatives of the various classes there assembled, we had almost forgotten the incident we have related. Our attention was called from the vain endeavor to discover some cessation of togs going up and down, aud brigs and schooners pulling in and out, by hearing n most audible sob from some one near me. It was not tho sob of childhood, caused by some sudden change from gayety to grief ; it was the sob of some lnnturer breast, filled with u sense of loneliness and despair, it reached other ears than ours. A lady dressed in a manner which be spoke a wealth that could gratify taste and elegance, and who, like ourselves, was de tained at that place, stood near, accompa nied by three children, whose desire to get at the extreme end of the platform she with difficulty repressed. With a woman's tender ness her heart recognized tho stifled ebuli tion of sorrow, and approaching the person from whom it came, who was no other than tho woman we lmd just seen land from the vessel, she quietly, und in that soft, sweet voice of woman, which none can resist, in quired if she stood in need, or was she ill, or was her sorrow such that she could not he relieved. A portion of the ruiling near us was vacant, and towards that, and almost at our side, these two women camo to con vene. Thu stranger was a fuir, handsome girl of uliout seventeen years ; neatly but coarsely dressed, with shoes not only well worn but heavy, and unsuited us much for her sex us for the season. Tho poor girl, in honest simplicity, and with uu earnestness which despair alone can impart, related her history, uninterrupted by a single observa tion from her companion, but often accom panied by the tears of both. We have not space for it at length, hut we will give it, changing its order just enough to enable us to state it briefly. She saiii that she was born in Boston ; she had no brother or sister now ; she re membered that she hud a sister, the oldest, whose name was Lizzie ; that sister, years ago, against her father’s will had married, and w ith lie? husband, having been banished from her father’s sight, had gone off und had not been heard of since—no doubt was dead, At the time of her sister's murriage, her parents were wealthy. The pride which drove away Lizzie lmd brought silent re grets, and after a while came melancholy complainings by the mother sighing for the embrace of her first-boru. These soon led to anger und crimination ut home, and dissi pation by the father abroad. Losses came upon them, and at last, gathering the few remaining goods they possessed, they left the proud city of their birth, and settled five years ago upon land purchased of the (iovernmout in Wisconsin. Iler brothers, some older and sonic younger than herself, one by one drooped und died ; and soon tho mother, calling in ugony her long exiled daughter, joined her boys in a happier clime. None were now left but the father and this poor girl. He too was hiirnbledand stricken by the slow but certain disease, which lights up the cheek and fires the eye with brilliancy of health, even when its victim is on the confines of eternity. He would sit and tell to his surviving child the acts of winning love and sacrificing devotion which had made his Lizzie the very object of his life. He would talk of her sweet smiles and happy disposition, until memory would lead him to the hour when lie hid her to depart, and not let him see her face again. His decline was rapid, and the lone child jaw the flowers which tho waxaitb of spring had called from the soil of her mother’s gruve disturbed, uprooted, and thrown aside, that kis ashes might mingle with those of the mother of his children. At his death, he charged her to pay off, as far as she might be able, the debts in curred to poocure the necessaries of life.— The land, which from wnut of culture, hud not increased in value, was sold, and left her but a few dollars. These she expended in rearing some boards to mark the spot where she had seen buried, one after another, her beloved kindred. She had heard of Chica go. She had heard that in this city there were olhees where strangers wishing employ ment could find work. She had on foot traveled many miles, nntil she reached Mil waukee, and thence by the kindness of u poor sailor, who had seen her day' after day on the dock, watching the steamers depart, had inquired aud ascertained that she wished to come hither, but had uot the money.—+- lle brought her to Chicago ou his own vessel, ami had told her by crossing ttie bridge she would find oue of those places where situations were given to worthy nj>- plicnnts. Such was her story. She had mentioned no name except that of futher, mother, and the very endearing appellation of brother (.3corgi*, AVillie, Ac. Both of the women were crying bitterly. The fashionably-dress ed lady turned her face towards the river, that her tears at such a crowded and unu sual place might not bo observed. She re quested us to take her two boys—George and Willie, sho culled them—by the hand, to keep them from danger, and then putting her arms around the neck of the poor, or phun stranger, said : “ Your are my own sister. I am Lizzie f* These two beings, children of the same parents, how different have been their paths, and how deep their sufferings 1 We have seen them together in Lizzie’s carriage, driving along Luke street. They arc doubt* less ns happy rn their bereavements, relieved only by the consciousness of duty faithfully performed, can permit. But while the suf fering of that father and mother may bo faintly known from the story of the daugh ter, wlmt must have been the mental agony of that other duughtcr, unkindly banished from her mother’s side, and driven out into the world without a father’s blessing?— Whitt must have been her grief when her letters written from a prosperous city, from tho house of her wealthy •ml kind husband, telling them of her suc cess and the birlli of her children, were un noticed and unanswered ? .She must have felt indeed that the hearts of that futher and mother, her sisters and brothers, must have been burdened against her. We will say no more. That scene will live in our memory while wo can remember the holy love of a father, mother and kindred. A Cool Fiudi.er.—The New Orleans Picayune tells the story of tho snagging of a steamboat, with her owner on board, who was very fond of playingou the violin. The captain, pilot and engineer were in thoeubiu playing cards ono day, when her bow struck a sung witli a force that knocked a hole in her as large as a hogshead. Tho shock up set the faro hank and those gathered around it, und caused a general confusion and con sternation among all except the owner, who, having righted himself in his chair, recom menced his tune where ho left off’, and went on us though nothing hud happened. “Three feet of water in the hold f Bun the old Buzzard ashore if you can !’’ shout ed the captain, 'flic startling words reuched the cars of the owner, but he continued to Raw away. The passengers ran to him and bawled out : “Did you know the boat was snagged ?” “1 suspected something of the kind,” cool ly answered the owner, as he laid ids left car upon his violin, a la Ole Bull, and ap peared perfectly enchanted with his owu strains.” “.She’ll be lost in five minutes,” continued the passenger. "She’s been a loosing concern these five years,” responded tho owner, as lie drew a most excruciating note from his fiddle. “I can feel her settling now,” responded the passenger. “1 wish she would settle with me, for whnt I have lost by her, lieforc she goes down,” was the owners reply, as his right hand moved backward and forward over his fiddle. “But why don’t you speak to the captain — give him orders what to do in the emer gency ?” asked the good natured passenger. “Interfering with the officers of this boat is a delicate matter!” meekly and quietly remurked the owner, as he still sawed away. The boat careened over, aud the next moment the cabin was half full of water. Tho Buzzard, together with her cargo and machinery, proved a total loss. The officers, crew and passeugers saved them selves by means of a yawl—the owner swam asboro with his fiddle uuder his right arm and the bow in his mouth N T o insurance, NO. 22.