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TERMS OF. ADVERTISING.
Advertisements inserted at ont dollar per square for the first, and fifty cents for each ubaequent insertion. ' A liberal discount made on yearly advertisements. 1 square, (ten lines) one year $10 00 2 iquarea one year... 15 00 3 aquarea one year.. 18 00 For one half or a column... ..... .... 23 00 1 aquare eii months. ,. 7 00 2 aquaree aix montht 10 00 SI squares six months.'. 1300 Forone half of a column 30 00 .; l square m reem mthe , o tu 2 aquaree three montha uu 3 aquaree three, months 10 00 'QfBnmftaiinl IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY IT GEO. E. PURVIS AND WM. J. SLATTER. Get a Home. Get a home, rich or A poor, get a home, and learn to keep that ' home and make it happy to your wife and children by your beaming presence; learn " to love simple pleasures, flowers of God's 'own planting, and music of His own the j bird, wind, water-fall. So shall you help to stem the tide of desolation, pov i erty and despair, that come upon so many, , through scorn of little things. Oh, the ,"j charms of a home, though it be but a lit- tie home; comforts .dwell there that sun i the gilded halls of society. Live conten tedly in your little ' home, and wait for God to give you a nobler one. Lomo Sermons. At the South Caroli na Conference of the Methodist Episco pal church, the presiding Bishop decided long sermons, except on very special oc casions, to be improper, contrary to the discipline, to the practice of "the Fath ers," and to some extent, subversive of the ends of the Christian ministry, The lim it, on ordinary occasions, according to the Bishop, should be from thirty to forty -five minutes. ' J "Tiie Poor Down Trodden Slaves." Many of the hired negroes in the tobacco factories in Richmond make from $8 to $12 per week, over work, without any ex- ' traordinary labor. How many poor white folks are there in the North that would ( like to make such a sum by hard labor for the entire week's employment. An Irishman, who had commenced building n wall around his lot of rather . uncommon dimensions, viz; four feet high and six feet thick, was asked for his object by a friend. "To save repairs, my honey; tlont you see that if it ever falls down it will be higher than it is now." j , TSome think that tho great cure for im morality is Education in our opinion, the only antidote is high wages. It is hard for a man to support a family and be lion- est, at six shillings a day. There is many e person who now passes for a saint, who would bo one of the biggest scamps in the y world, were his income reduced fiom roast - beef to No. 3 mackerel. ' Lucky -Editor An editor in Arkan sas, was lately shot in an affray. Luckily the ball came against a bundle of unpaid accounts in his pocket. Gunpowder ,'could'nt get through that! : The most delicate and the. most sensi ble of all pleasures consists in promoting the happiness of others. ! . .-... s Picture of Life. In youth, we seem to bo climbing a hill on whose top eter nal sun-shine appears to rest. How ea V gerly we pant to reach its summit. But c when we have gained it, how different is ; the prospect on the other side! We sigh ",as we contemplate the dreary waste before us, ana iook dbck witn a wisttul eye up on the flowery path we have passed, but may never more retrace.. Lite is like a r portentious cloud, fraught with thunder, j storm, and rain; but religion, like those V streaming rays of sunshine, which clothe It with light as with a garment, and fringe V its shadowy skirts with gold, ti . advertising advantages; The im inense sums spent annuallv bv Deonln in business and by professional men in ad- 4 fvertising their respective articles or call- rings, must prove that it is a paying invest fraent of money to the advertiser whatso "-ever its advantages msy be to the prin ter. Sj On this subject the Southside Lemo- crat, ad energetic paper published in Pe- .1 T tersDurg, va., says: .'. ; , "Advertising and its' Effects. There is a merchant in this city who, on his arrival here, went to work and earn. ed fifty cents, with which he paid for , an advertisement announcing himself in want of a clerkship. He obtained a situation, Decarne a partner, and advertised; and is at this time worth a quarter of a million of dollars, bears an estimable churscter, and is in a fair way to become one of our leading men in the country. See what an advertisement will do. f You want to kiss a pretty girl, why kiss her, if yon eari. If a pretty girl wants to kiii7u, why lethsr, liks a man. THE PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY VOLUME 1. Written for tlx Horn Journal. A LEAF FROM THE V0LTJMJ2 OF MEMORY. kvmbkr two. by Mrs. adelia c. craves. I turn it over, the precious, quaint old volume, in the long winter evenings, while the fire burns brightly on thohearth, the cat lies contentedly purring on tho rug, and the lamp throws a ruddier light upon the crimson curtains draping the windows. In the summer's twilight gloaming, too, when all the busy sounds of day are hushed, or subdued, I thumb the consecrated pages, some scarcely cut apart, still clean and white, for the rec ollections there are dimly, almost illegi bly written, the memories of but little value, but there are others, that from frequent and careful perusal have as sumed a deeper shade; yet are they not defaced, but only grown brighter, more distinct, more precious from each subse quent perusal. Very dear are the records of those pleasant leaves, cheering by their calm, soothing remembrances, ma ny an otherwise lonely hour. There are others, none the less dear, it may be, but stained, worn, tear-blisterod, read with weeping, laid aside with, sob bing, over whose tear-stained records the severed affections bleed with newly probed wounds and yearn with faithful, deathless love. Heart-pictures, too, are drawn upon its pages, with the skill of more than mortal limner, fresh and unfading in col or, and truthful and life-like in feature. They are of the dear ones of infan cy, of childhood, youth and riper age. Their lineaments embellish the volume and cause us to linger long at times in contemplation of the well-remembered countenances. There were few who visited the old, brown nouso upon the hill, lew save friends and relatives, for it was at a dis tanco from neighbors and stood back from the road, so, though many passed along tho highway and were attracted to look nt the pointed gables, and long and shaded wings, few entered for a casual call, for its very appearance, large, sub stantial and dignified as it was, seemed to invite no idle curiosity- It had a lone ly look, too, from the road, so high tho roof, so long the shaded wings, with doors, even in summer closely shut, and win dows rarely opened towards the street, But hospitality and friendliness were the presiding spirits within, and cold and cheerless as the view from the highway seemed to strangers, warm, sunny and cheerful' looked the house to the dear one9 within. It was truly a home for its own hearts, beside its own hearth-stone an abiding place a refuge from all the storms with out. Not acaravansera for a night's rest and the resuming of a toilsome journey in the morning, but the heart's own rest ing place. Beside our Cousin Charley, whose con stant home was there, we were two, that at intervals nestled beside the warm hearth-stone, reading, by the light of the tall candle on the little stand, the same simple story from the same pictured page; with difficulty suppressing our merriment at the tales we read or told each other, till Grandmother, knitting in hand, point ed her seam-needle at us and shaking her warning head, tried to look stern, while we, bursting with merriment and regard less of consequences, laughed outright at the funny words in Cousin Charles' les sons. Woe to us poor little transgressors then, when such irrelevant sounds escap ed our lips. Slowly laying down the ponderous volume which had engaged his attention, and peering over his spectacles, as if he had never before found occasion fer so signal a rebuke, (though between you and me, reader, he had done the same thing every night for a month, at least, Sundays excepted,) Grandfather bradeus, for a couple of good-for-noughts, "Be still." Audible sounds were of course for a while suppressed, but soon commenced such a whispering of secrets, momentous ones to ua, such as the discovery of a newly made hen's-nest in the spacious barn, or under the currant bushes, or a robbin's little family in the cherry tree by our chamber window; or how madame Grey wing, in the hollow atump below the spring, was just hatching her first brood of goslings. HOME GEO. E. PURVIS AND WM. J. WINCHESTER, TENN., FEBRUARY 27, 1857. Oftentimes however was our attention closely rivited by what was going on at the little, round, three -leied candle-atand in the corner, for Cousin Charley was studying Latin and Grandfather was his teacher nights, for we Were far from school. It was then we first hoard of the wooden horse with its band of armed men by which "Troja suit" it was then we sympathized with the brave iEneas and his devoted followers, admired the saga city ol Laocoon when he said, "Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes," and shudder ed with honor at his own and his chil dren's horrible death. With wondering eyes, devouring ears and parted lips we saw, as he read the story, the immense serpents coming from lenedos, with their scaly backs in tortu ous folds, their heads raised high above the reave and their forked tongues vibrat ing in their blood-speckled mouths. We almost heard the imploring shrieks of the sons of the priest of Neptune, as they struggled with the crushing folds of the monsters, and saw the eager step, but despairing look of the poor father as he hastened to their hopeless rescue. We burned with indignation against the false Sinon, saw with iEneas the ghost of Crensa, and like him, in many circumstances, "Steterunt comae et vox faucibus hacsit." Little thought we, mer ry ones then, that we too should wander at a future day over classic soil and gath er for ourselves the many treasures hidden beneath its surface. ButO! those pleasant evenings ! De licious hours were they. Bed-time came all too soon, and sometimes, so did morn ing too, for Early to bed and early to rise, Will make a man healthy, wealthy and wis", was the governing maxim of that house, and if not sooner, Emma and I must, at least, be up to eat our breakfasts.. But rise as early as wemight, we always found the milking done and the morning meal upon the table: , That over, what a scattering! Char ley always went with the workmen to the fields, for though he could not chop down trees, ho could pick up chips, cut and pile bush, and burn it too, If his hand was not strong enough to hold the plough, it could collect the cobble-stones in heaps, and if he could not sow the grain and plant the corn, he could drop the lattei in hills, and make scare-crows to frighten the thieving crows and black birds from both. Many a bright day in the early Spring, when the dropping blossoms of the orchard boughs silently flung their gauze-like covering over the green Earth's breast, once more under the sun's rays, newly pulsing with a fresher life and vig or, would we, too, with each a basket on her arm, steal away with cousin Charley to the field and drop with him the yellow kernels in the places prepared for them, ever and anon saying as we carefully counted the seven grains, for each new hill, One for the black bird, one tor the crow, Two tor the cut-worm, aud th ree to grow, We had an interest in that crop, for our wee-bit hands had helped to plant it, and how anxious were we for the first bd- a pearance of the tender blades above the ground, and how proud when the ripened ears hung drooping and waiting to be gathered. But when the haying time came, then was Cousin Charley of more imnortance than any where else, for there he could do almost as much work as a man. Du ring the harvesting he could do little but carry food and drink for the workmen and run of other errands. He could not reap, he could notbind, not well at least; he could only carry the sheaves and place them in the shocks; but in the hay field, he could pitch and toss, turn and shake the new-mown grass, to say noth ing of the playwork of raking after the load. Why, even Emma and I could do that, and often, too, for the pure fun of the thing, joined the hay-makers, raking, turning, shaking as busy as sny of them, and as the crowning delight of the whole, riding up to the barn on the loa.L rim. terously dropping our heads as it naisad through the wide-flung doors. It is all over now, that old-fashioned way of making hay. Horse power does it all cuta it, rakes it, all but pitching it on and off tba clattering wagon-rack. All tho romance of hay-making ia de parted. But the fragrant, new-mown hay is yet JOURNAL. SLATTER, AT TWO DOLLARS the same. I smellod It ones again last summer, and it carried me back, over long, long years, to tho ploasant old south meadow, all enclosed with second growth of Chestnut, Poplar and Tulip trees, overgrown with tho grape-vino's bowenng shade, and I bowed my head and brimming eyes, and in thought was living again the years that weregono. I though) of Cousin Charles and Emma, and all the pure, innocent delights of their fond companionship, and ulmostun consciously I syllabled their names; and at the words the ono stood beforo me, in her clean, brown linen pinafore, with the neat, gingham sun-bonnet in her hand, waiting, as she used to do, to hear what I was going to say to her, her blue eyes looking eagerly into mine, and her sunny curls straying down her neck and face; while the other, with deep earnest gaze and strongly-knit, manly little figure, was beside her, willing to accede to any re quest in his power to grant. Why should not memory, thus powerfully aid ed by association, so vividly recall them? In the olden timos we were together eve rywhere in the orchard, the meadow, the garden, at the brook-side, in the barn, nutting, black-berrying, gathering winter- greens and checker-berries, where one was, the others were not far distant. But where are they now ? A tearhath fallen on tbe page. How could I help it? I may call, but who shall answer? I may extend the hand of welcome, but Oh! not to them. I may look with the glance of affection into loving eyes, but never again into theirs. Sunny curls may twine over necks and brows of daz zling whiteness, and I may love to look, but the curls with which my fingers toyed, the brows and necks over which they stray ed, are perished from my sight. I look for them no more on earth, save on fond Memory's faithful page the picture gal lery of the heart. There, aro their lin eaments most faithfully copied and fond ly may I gaze at pleasure upon the loved and loving ones tho dark earth hid from me, underneath her freshly-broidered robe when tho bursting buds and blossoms draped tho orchard bouchs, wove a pret ty border to the green mantle of the freshly springing meadow, and underneath the shadowing arms of the wide old for est, strove to hide the bare brown soil and the dead leaves of the preceding year with many a chaste aid fanciful con ceit. Charley drooped in his boyhood, ere his youthful heart had witnessed the at tainment of one of its anient aspirations, just as he had raised his foot for the first step forward on life's threshold; and we mourned him, 0 ! how tenderly 0 ! how sincerely. His pale face had an aneel's look as we placed the fresh Spring-flowers beside the glossy hair and pallid cheek and on the pulseless bosom over which the snowy fingers were clasped in meek submission, those fingers and those hands so often employed in acts of love for us. His work was done and he laid him down to rest. 'Twas better so, yet how could we but mourn tho beloved companion of our childhood ? Life's but a weary toilsome pilgrimage, A warp or ti!al, with temptations woof, A blotted book a soiled, and tear-worn page A tangled mate, where order stamls aloof. Hit youthful rest turned from the troublous way. While leaf-buds burst aud flower were blossoming. Life's preface read the volume cast away, Looked up to Heaven and plur.ed a seraph's wing. But Emma. A few more Springs came and went, and she too, the beautiful bride of only a few short months, drooped, paled and died, and the only remaining strand of the three-fold cord, I grieved alone. Alas, that death hath power to blight The fcirest forms or earthly mould. To quench the bright eye' loving light. And nuke the heart grow cold. How sad to see the closing eye, The fainting pulse to feel, To list the scarcely utter d sigb. And mark the last change steal Over some dear one's pallid fcce. And settle slowly there, And leave its last, abiding true. On cheek, and brow, and hair. Who hatb not felt the agony, The grief beyond control. Some dearly valued friend to see A form without a soul I To call, awl hear do ana waring word, From Up ne'er mute bebie f To grasp t hand, by friendship stirred, 01 never, never more f Alt t our best aAectioM prove The source or deepest woe. For only tboae who badly love, Such parting pain can know. Cbriocs. Tha 21st versa of the 7th chapter of the book of Ezra contains all tba letters of tha alphabet. PER ANNUM IN ADVANCE. NUMBER 8. Written tor th Home Journal. TO M. Thou, and thou only I I ask for none other One star Is enough my footstep to guide ) Thee truly I'll cherish, Though all else should perish Thou, and thou only, my loved one my bride t Thou, and thou only t though others should tempt me To follow their light, bright beaming from far Forgeling thee never, I'll turn to thee evi-r, Telling thorn thnu art mine own chosen star. Vain he their templing to cause me to follow Aught otberthan thou, beloved of my heart I In vain they'll caress me. In vain strive to bless me, Or lead me from thee, my dearest, to part I True lo my vow, I will ever prove faithful i Trust me, I'll prove myself worthy thy love) I ne'er will forsake thee, To pleasure I'll wako thee, And love thee, as angel loves angel above. A. Vt'tnciWTBR, Feb- 51, 1607. MOTHER. We publish the following piece of poe try because it is so natural and true, and because it was handed us by a lady a mother who can appreciate its beauty: Oh. mother, get my bonnet, do, I want to go and pluyi Aud hurry, mother, tie my shoo, Or Sis will run away, Oh, mother, do untie this string, It's In a hateful knot And tell me where I put my bliag, 1 really have forgot. Mother, see here, my dress Is loose, I wish you'd hook it up) Oh dear, I want a drink so bad, Ma, take me down the cup. Mother, I want a long, strong string, To make my kite II y high Cive me more paper for the tail, I'll make It reach the sky. I've cut my finger, mother, oh, Do tie a rag upon Iti And mother, hore, do Sew this string Again upon my bounct. And mother sew this button on My pouts, see how they looki And mother, won't you stitch those leaves Into my spelling book) Ohl mother, mother, comb my hair, And wash my fiico right clean, The girls are all a going to walk To-night, upon the green. To night, just after school, you know, The mistress said we might) And moiher, 1 must have some cake Aud cheese to fix things right. Oh, mother, pick these stitches up, I've dropped a half a score; And see! there's one all ravelled down A dozen rounds or more. Mother, Where is my jumping rope? Mother, where is my hat? Mother, come help me build my house, Mother, John plagues my cat. Thus hour by hour, and day by day. These little things intrude, Till many a mother's anxious heart Is weary and subdued. And to her ever troubled ear, The sacred name of mother, By being ever dwelt upon, Sounds worse than any other. Cut let each mother pause and think How much she has at stake) How many thousand drop It take to fill a lake. Remembering that her noisy boy A statesman bold may be. And strong in truth and right, may teach A nation to be free. With glowing words or eloquence Maintain Jehovah's plan, Till vice shall hide its head for shame, And nations bless th man. Or when her head is growing grey, Thedauipiter kind and true. With feeling heart and ready hand. The "little thing" will do. Let these reflections nerve and cheor Each weary, fainting one, With patient hope to do her work, Till all her work Is done. For not on earth can there be found Through all life's varied plan, A nobler, greater work than her', Who rears an honest maul EDITORSHIP. We have known a very learned gentle man to obligingly bring us a contribution with the remark, that as we were contin ually occupied, it must be doubtless quite an accommodation to receive a good ar ticle once in awhile aud on examininc the "good article in question, we have r.. i .u . . .. found three gross grammatical orrors. di - vers sins ofawkwarlness, and two words' 'V , aB0(W J misspelled in the first and second aen T J"?""! "!'''' tences. A lecture, which will bear print - ii- ,- . ing as it is delivered ia an exception; and, in a word, there are very few men, who Ko. i I . , . have not served a regular apprenticeship l -.i , . to the types, who can ait down, and, w th - , , . . . , ' , out "halt or let," express their thouhu reaany anunuentiy in writing. Yej . v, - -it .v:. , . . --.--'-. who, becauae they hav1-' ii uu. wo ua v meet witNrrni in ional hit in a latf r TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. IS AOVANfR WITHIN PI MONTflH. TWKLVK MONTHS,. INDUCEMENTS TO CLl'M. . 3 copies 95 00; 10 copies $15 00; i copies 8 00; 15 copies 20 00. ' COOK AND JOB PRINTING. BLANKS OF KVKRV KIND. PAMPHLETS, PROGRAMMES, POSTERS, . GAUDS, CIRCULARS, RECEIPTS, FUNERAL TICKETS. DRUG LABEL?, HILL HEADS, HAND BILLS, &C. elaborated a drawling story or poem in some incautious paper, talk daringly and dashingly of journalism, and graciously inform us how they would make this fly round, if they were only editors. Singular, every man, no matter how stupid ho is, always seems to be morally convinced that if everything else fails, ho. can cither manage a small farm or edit a paper and experience shows that whero there are a hundred educated young men, capable of successfully practicing a pro fession, there is not more than one or two who is reully enough of a genius, a scholar, and a man of practical sense, toTnako u good editor. In fact, though all the world roads papers, thcro are very few out of th business who have ever taken the pains to acquire much information relative io it and the natural consequence is, that its difficulties aro unappreciated. Phi, Bulletin. WEBSTER'S ESTIMATE OF BYKON. Washington, April 8, 1830. My Dear Sir: I have read Tom Moore's first volumo of Byron's life. Whatever human im aginstion shall hereafter picture of a hu man being, I shall believe it all within the bounds of credibility. Byron's case shows that fact sometimes runs by all fancy: as a steamboat passes by a scow at anchor. I have tried hard to find some thing in him to like, besides his geniua and his wit, but there was no other likea ble quality about him. He was an incar nation of demonism. Ho is the only man in English history, for a hundred years, that ha3 boasted of infidelity and of every practical vice, not included in what may be termed, what his biographer does term, meanness. Lord Bolingbroke, in his most extravagant youthful sallies, and the wicked Lord Littleton, were saints to him. All Moore" can say is, that each of his vices had soiuo virtue or prudence near it, which in some sort chocked it. Well, i T that were not so in all, who would escape hanging! The biographer, indeed, says his moral conduct must not be judged by the ordi nary standard! And that is true, if a fu- vorablo decision is looked for. Many excellent reasons are given for his being a bad hucband; the sum of which is that he was a very bad man. I confess I was re joiced then, and am rejoiced now, that he was driyen out of England by public scorn; because his vices were not in his passions but in his principles. He den'. ed all religion and all virtue in the house, too. Dr. Johnson says there is merit in maintaining good principles, though tho preacher is seduced into violation of them. This is true. Good theory is somethinc. But a theory of living, and dying, too, made up of tho elements of hatred to re ligion, contempt of morals, and defianco of the opinions of all the decent part of the public when before has a men of let ters avowed it? IfMilton were alivo, to recast certain prominent characters in his great epic, he could embellish them with new traits without violating probability. ABEAZOKIA, THU PROPOSED NEW TERRITORY". The Washington correspondent of the Baltimore Sun gives a brief description of the Territory of Arrazonia, the inhabit ants of which have sent a delegate to Con gress, to present their claims for an or ganized territorial government. It ein- braces the territory acquired by the Gads den treaty, in addition to the Messilla Valley, which we had claimed under tho former treaty, and comprises twenty-njne thousand square miles. A portion of the territory is said to be arable and well watered, and another portion is undoubt edly rich in mines of gold, silver and cop per. Wagons have traversed the territory from the Rio Grande to the K n,l nf ilia ii-r-r, ,., . m. uu" Ul atiiorn a. ine territory is thief ' i . ... , , ' . is truer- 1 .""V- . V. t - Wl 1X19 "ranue to aan LUeiro. oroan Jrt' it .... " o v ' , . .. om.- L ' Bbout 1,000 miles. This is the rout's , ... , ., v . . . o which the Secretary of War givet tha - v ,., e. Trc7rrrrM, among those which the got :. . . . - .mem nam en men in minmin,. an.i surveyed. The com of a railroad by this Voute will be very moderate, according i e estimates, ana they ar beli b jSjcretan toht ithin th inr. IK'"1 HI- L A ao