*/ jH " .'l!-1?..-?--::^-?L_ ^ SS?"" ;J| VOLUME 14 CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA TUESDAY MORNING JUNE 7,1853. NUMBER 23/| * PUBLISHED WEEKLY 11V _ THOMAS J. WARREN. TERMS. Two Dollars if paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fiftjr'Cjihts if payment be delayed three months, and Three Dollars if not paid till tho expiration of the year. ADVERTISEMENTS will bo inserted at the following rates.- For one Square, (fourteen lines or less,) " seventy-five cents for the first, and thirty-seven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single insertions. one dollar per square; semi-monthly, monthly and quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a single insertion. 21?*The number of insertions desired must be noted on the margin of all advertisements, or they will be published until ordered discontinued and charged ac cordiuglr. Jl 3flfCtfb alf. From the Illustrated Family Friend. WIHTIVItfe A BRIDE, OR THE FORAGING PARTY. A TALE OF THE LAST WAR. . -C ^ "Edward Oyilvie was the youngest of five brave brothers who served their country, both in the field and on the sea during the last war. Their mother was a widow of comfortable estate, who dwelt in a pleasant homestead facing t he waters of ^ostou Hay:- Large elms overshadowed the roof, and the broad fields interspersed with woodlands extended away on the light, till they met the fields and woodlands iofthe property of Squire Ilarwood, a man of substantial wealth, who had an only uaugnter of eighteen, who was a belle and an heiress.? The road from the homestead of widow Ogi] vie wound along the sea-beach, with a hedge and . green fields on one side bordering if, and the white sparkling sand and the blue waves on the other.* The distance between. thy two moan tains was little less than a mile; about halfway between was a bridge of stone, spanning a small rivulet, that had a course of a half dozen miles from the interior. ' j[f wfa^about an hour before sunset near the close of the'War, in the month of October, that Edward Ogilvie'was crossing fhis bridge, on .his way to visit Annette Harwood, the bounty and heiress; for the charms of the rustic belle had taken captive the yung student's heart; and every evening, for the last month, lie had directed his walk in the direction of her abode. Edward was in his twentieth year, -of goodfigure, of a pleasing but somewhat diffident address, and with that cairn meditative asj>ert peculiar to a student; for such was the young man. Annette was not loved without giving her henrt in return; but ihe Squire, although he had observed with apparent indifference this mutual attachment, had j.. mind of "his own touching a matter so interesting to the lovers themselves. Edward had got upon the bridge, where he I used to linger for n few moments as he crossed, to watch the flowing sea rush through the arch up the creek, and gaze upon its expanse of waters; or from the opposite side of the bridge contemplate the dark inlet, as it lost itself amid Overhanging trees in a dell where stood a mill belonging equally to the two manors. Edward had paused a moment upon the , bridge to watch the effeets of the purple light of the western sky, reflected upon its mottled bosom, when his eyes were arrested by a sail in the offing. Ho Continued to watch it for n few moments, and then went on his way, and from time to time glancing seaward to admire the stately and slow motion of its trackless passage over the ocean. As he caine near the dwelling of Squire li?.r*ood. he discovered that her course \yas- towards the land; hut seeing Annette on the piazza, be forgot the vessel to hasten to her. The meeting was more like that of brother and sister than thatof lovers ; that Is, it was affectionate, frank, and free from restraint. "We shall have a lovely evening to walk, the sunset will be so pleasant." said Annette, whom we would stop to describe, if our pen couid-do justice to her beauty T We will, however, say the color of her e\ e.s was a deep seablue, and they sparkled like waves dancing in the sunlight; her lips had doubtless been a pair of cherries, stolen' by Cupid, to make her mouth the prettiest mouth imaginable. Her smile was sunshine, her form sylph like and blooming with youth, her voice full of music, and every motion as graceful as a fawn's. She was good humored, intelligent and suitably grave, was just the maiden to ensnare a studentlike Edward Ogilvie. Annot.r?>; the air is rich with golden tints and soft as a June evening. Suppose we ramble towards the village and listen to the 1 martial masic of the soldiers as they march j From the ground." "I should like it of .ill things. My father says'ovr company, the Blues, made the finest show of any on parade to-day." "He was at the review, then ?" "Yes, and acted as a Major or Colonel, 1 believe, at any rate, he has just come home on horseback, in full uniform, with a sword by his side, and looks as brave, I teJl him, as a crusading knight. He told me to hold my little tongue, and so I have, for a full minute." "And the longest time you ever held it 'Xet^ ty," said the Squire, coming out of the house, his chapeau in hnud and his sword unbelted and beneath his arm. "Ah, Edward, good evening, man. Fine day we have had for the general muster." "Yes, sir! are the troops dismissed yet "Not all." tl.a Iiill.tnn "We were going up ute ruau mc im. to listen to the music, father," said Annette. "No, no! stay at home child;" said the Squire gravely. ''I suppose master Edward has asked you to go?" "I did, Mr. Harwood; I thought the walk might be pleasant" "Humph! Look you, young man," said Squire Harwood, bluntly, "military music is not made for the amusement of studious youths, after idling the day over musty books, nor merely to please a lassie's ear. It is the voice of the spirit of liberty, and calls the young men of the land to fight her battles, and the maidens to make them clothes to fight in, and colors to fight under. You, I see, like my Annette, and so far as I can see, she likes you hack again. Now, Edward, you are a very t correct, excellent young man, that I know; hut u you see I havn't but one daughter, and I don't ti men* that she sha'l marry any man who, excellent as he may be, through nil this war has t never drawn a blade or pulled a trigger for the t love of his country. Your brothers are all a brave fellows, and serving her with honor.? c Ypu stay at home to pore over dictionaries in h the day-time, and co:rie and make love to An- c nette by moonlight. Now, I have nothing a against you, as I said before; but I've made fc up my mind Annette shan't marry a man that t hasn't had a hand in this war against the En- t glish. If you are a mind to follow the exam- I pie of your brothers, and let me hear some- a thing you have done 1 can tell my neighbors v of with pride, then you shall have my consent j to marry Annette; lot hers, I daresay, she has | h j given you long ago. A text, you know, is as 11 good as a sermon, Master Edward. So if you t; want 1113* daughter 3*ou know how she is to be s won." a i Thus speaking, Squire Harwood Look An- r nette under his arm, and bowing very kindly n but firmly, to the astonished lover, disappeared u within the house. c Edwncd remained standing a moment upon 'J the spot where they had lelt him, as if trying n to realize what had passed. He then turned n away in silence, his cheek burning with the u glow cfa mortified and sensitive spirit." 0 The profession he had in view was that of a r clergyman ; and although not deficient in cour j age or patriotism^he had suffered his brothers 1 */. inl/A *U/-? fix!/-! mtr! fli/k r) uuvn * * %. ..?/ a cd at home. The words of the Squire sank b deep into his spirit. lie walked slowly homeward, very sad, and filled wiih painful ideas <>f ti losing her who was so very dear to him. As he came upon the bridge, he had made up his j| mind. lie stopped, and speaking aloud >aid \ firmly: y "If Annette is only to be won by taking up tl amis, I will enlist to-morrou ! It is lionoiahle y to serve one's country. I am not yet a clergy, man, and I cao therefore net freely. This is u the last day the reproach shall be thrown upon me, that I remain dallying at home wliib-li inv brothers are .abroad, exposing iht ir bosoms ,s .to the weapons of their country's foes!"' * While lie was speaking, he saw that the ship, f, whieh he had noticed half an hour bclbr? at a y distance, had drawn close in with thp land, and had chopped anelior about abreast of the | in let. .The sun had already set, yet he could (J j see her distinctly, and discover that she was a merchant ship. lie remained for sometime watching her, and listening to the distant drum t( of a detachment of militia of the neighborhood, |, which was retiring homewards from the mustei field. The sound of the drum died away in r( the distance beyond the mill, and the low dashing of waves against the bridge fell upon p his ear. "Well, to-morrow, I too, shall march to the | measure of the fife and drum ! I will enlist as ? a private and make my "way up. Annette ]. shall be won!"' Lie paused, thinking lie heard the sound of H oars. lie looked seaward, but the twilight ren dered objects too obscure to detect any boat ? approaching. Yet each'moment the fall of the n sweeps came clearer and nearer, and he was p soon able able to discover a barge pulling in |, towards the bridge. His position in the sha- |, dow of an overhanging limb shielded him from p observation.. He saw that the boat contained Ci at least twenty men. It moved slower as it drew" nearer the land, and a person standing ? up in the stern directing its landing. It strv ok f the shore close by the bridge within the inlet; s| and almost beneath where he stood, the party debarked. . lie now saw that half of them were seamen and half marines, and that all ?< were armed. They were commanded hv a young midshipman, who, forming them into a |, column marched them up the hank and on the p bridge. Edward, as they came near, drew e himself up into the limb, and was concealed in j, the foliage while he observed with surprise tl their stealthy movements. e "How far is the gr st-mill hence, Sambo?" c asked the young officer, looking about him after had got on the bridge, save a man to guard |, the hoar. . . ? "The first mill am'bout n third of a mile up j, tic CK-ek, and do to'ther one vvbar dc most jr grist be am a mile. There is a good path 'long j j, de creek shore," answered a man in the true t) Yankee negro intonation, but speaking with manifest reluctance. j "If you deceive me darkir, you are a dead |, man !'" said middy, very positively. p "I knows dat well 'nuff, so I tells you do jt truth, tho'I hates It mightily! I knows all tj 'boutdis place, coz 1 used to lib here once.? c Ober dar whar Squire llarwood lib, and. ober t| dat way am widdur Ogilvie, an' I wish dis nig- p ger was safe in dar kitchen! I nebbergo cook a agin in Boston ship, nor no oder one a'ter bein' w took prisoner by de British as I is dis time !" j. "Ilist with your noise! each of you march forward in silence. We .ire in an enemy's country ami must be cautious." o "Yes, I guess you better," said the negro, si "If de country people knowed you was skulkin' si here a'ter com, flour, and sheep and oxes to keep from starvin' to death, as we have been a week past, dey bo round as thick as snake in p de grass, an'dcbhle one ob you git back 10 |, our boat. So 1 'vise you, massa, to keep sharp look out to de windward ! Guy! how mad all *1""" /1a ttilion rl Air VAI1 III I'll! U U III UV IIIMI lllll ?T IK'll U l/J iilllA \/14 v ^ vu land here in a prize sliip, wid only two guns a and thirty men, and carry off clear to Halifax v' de grist from dere two mills, and sheep and sl turkey too, for de lieutenant's dinner! Dey swear den, and 'pect de Squire swear 'miff for ? a whole regiment!1' rj "Forward," cried middy. "Silence all of |; you, and advance swiftly and with caution." 7j 'J'hey filed off the bridge, and taking the path, along which the negro led the way, they were soon lost to Edward in the gloom of the overhanging banks of the creek. 81 "These men, then, are English." he reflected, 81 i? I-.* .tlmoalf /truvri tmnn t.hft hridfre : "the w Ud lie I CI# 'IIIUIOVIi w???. ? 0- f vcs.-el is a prize bound to Halifax, with a midshipman and thirty men?twenty here and ten remaining on board. My course is decided ! tl It will take them an entire hour to visit both T mills. Half of that time will do for me. I tl , shall know where to seek the militia party ei with the fife and drum ; and if I can find twen- w y brave men among them, to put themselves nder my orders, I will win Annette before tonorrow's sun-rhe 1" = As he spoke, he glided noiselessly away from he bridge, and after getting beyond hearing of he man at the boat, lie flew like the wind cross a meadow in the direction of what was u ailed "the Cross Roads," a cluster of village b abitations, the principal of which was a large o ountry tavern, where he knew he could find h ssembled many of the militia men who had ti lorne part in the review in the neighboring o own. This inn was about a mile distant from he bridge, on ihe road in the rear of Squire w Iarwood's farm, across which, leaping fence u Iter fence, Edward Ogilvie was now flying tc vith the speed of a deer. si 'I ho tai'oni ms hp rnmp npnr. was SO Quiet. 0' e feared that the men he sought had left for t! heir respective homes. Seeing a light in the oi ap, however, lie hoped yet to lind some per- tl ons assembled there. Through the windows, s he approached the door, ho saw the bar- t< ooiii was nearly tilled with men. The next b iioinent, he was in their presence. His man- tl er was divested of all excitement, and a spirit it aim and resolute beamed from his eycy.? li rhere were at least twenty nten in the apart- li tent, most of them with knapsacks and bayoet betls upon their persons, and some leaning rr pon their muskets; while the guns of the rest w f the party were stacked in the corner of the ft oom. Some of them were smoking, others 01 linking, and all listening to a long yarn tola w y one of the party, of certain exploits of him- w elf personally performed at the battle ofPlatts- a< urg. . a On Edward's entrance, the landlord first no- tl iced him? 01 "Ah ! so you can enter a tavern on a train- ai ig day, Mr. Ogilvie; glad to see you. Though ni ou are not much of a fighting man. I like ai c o on lor your brothers' sake, who are all serving heir country. But there must be parsons as B rell as soldiers, and every man to his trade." st All eyes were now turned upon the young lo lan. Advancing a little way into the floor, he aid with a firm tone, ol "I am clad to find so many of you here as- se embled. If the brave men among you are lij illing to place yourselves under my direction la >r the next two hours, I will lead you where n< ou can win both honor and prize money !" it "Spoken with spirit!" exclaimed several. ti "That rings like your brother George!" said tc he landlord. "But what is it ?" cried all, crowding round, w "Will you be led by me? There is danger ai o both life and person; but I ask no man to cc ?llow me where I fear to lead!" fl "The man has courage il^he313 a student," ?' tunarked one to the ether with surprise. ' a> "What have you discovered?" demanded 2 A O or three of the most forward of the men. 1> "Will you follow mo and obey my orders, if can place into your hands as prisoners, twenty If biglish 6camen and officers, who have just. 1* ;n?i?d ?" ; "Yes! lead on !" was the general response, nd the men commenced arming themselves. Briefly, Edward told them what he had wit- d' essed. All was enthusiasm. Among the ? lilitury men was a young man whom he des- 11 atched to Squire Harwood. In twenty min- c' tes the Squire was'on the spot, mounted on 11 is horse and armed with his broad sword.? 'ivo of his farm men had followed him. Others nine in from all sides. Edward, with groat coolness and skill took pon himself the conduct of the whole affair. Ie suggested that the Squire, wirh thirty, men InuilJ cut off the retreat of the foraging party, 0 nd take them prisoners. 01 "And what will you do?" asked the Squire, bi Youare notgoing to keep out of the danger?" a "Nd, sir! If there arc twenty brave men ei ere who will volunteer to go with me, I will tr roceed to the boat, take possession of it. and n: mbark for the ship. In the night we can board ol cr without difficulty, as we shall be taken for c< U'ir own party. Once on board, the ship will usily fall into our hands; for most of her prize lc rew are ashore! Who will volunteer?" o; The bold proposition at first startled the ir oldest among them. But in less than five r( finutes twenty of them had volunteered; and tl i two minutes more he was at their heid, lend- st lg them to the bridge, while the Squire with t is detachment, proceeded to cut off the rc eat of the enemy. . ? The result was in all respects successful. The P English party at the mill, surrendered after a 1,1 rief skirmish, and were taken to the tavern as P1 risoners within an hour after the Squire had P; ;ft it. Edward and his brave band boarded " ;ie shin without suspicion, and after a short ^ onllict he was master of her. He took her, by e' lie aid of the released American crew, into c' ioston harbor the next day; and wc need not u dd 'chat in less th-;n three months, he was re- w aided with the hand of the beautiful Annette w larwood! ^ An old fogy in New Hampshire was recent- tl vertaken by a*" train of thought." Through fa killful medical treatment it is hoped he may rl urvive the shock. ai Why is a man ascending Vesuvius like an rishman trying to kiss a pretty girl ? Because c< e wants to get at the crater's month. ol 1 have a great ear, a wonderful ear," said conceited musician, in tho course of a con- ^ ersation. " So has a jackass," replied a by j andcr- ... ti " My brethren," said Swift, in a sermon, there are three sorts of pride: of birth, of chcs, and of talents, I shall not speak ot the itter, none of you being liable to that abomi N< able vice." ^ hi *** . bi "Would you touch a nettle without being n( Lung by it. take hold of it stoutly. Do the imo to other annoyances, and hardly anything rill unnov vou.? Gupsxpr of Truth. J y! . J ~ JV. * ' .11 The daughter of Themistocles had two lovers, 01 ie one a coxcomb, the other an honest man. in he first was rich, the second poor. Ho took B ie honest man for a son-in-law; 'for I had rath- w r,' said he, 'have a man that wants wealth than sc calth that wants a man-' tl; jUiSfflidilfUBS. From the Due West Telescope. - r The Bible a Civil Blessing:. ; e Our earliest recollections have been associated. , ^ ith the Bible. To venerate its Author, and ow to its holy precepts, has been the lesson of '' ur lives. Under its counsels .and teachings, we ave lived and Prospered, and to-day, as a Chrisan people, we treasure the Bible as the Book s f all our hopes. c But gratefully as we receive, and cordially as c e embrace this sacred volume, in its bearing h pon the soul and eternity, may we not prize it e )0 lightly in connexion with the common blcs- s ngs of life ? As citizens of this world, how ften are we disposed to live under the light of s ic gospel, and enjoy the temporal advantages tl t religion, without recognizing our obligation to n ic Bible and its Autlior ? a IIow much the citizens of our land is indebted r ) the Bible for all that endears his horhc to c im, we cannot tell. What the condition of li lat man is, whose path lias never been illu- p lined by the light of the Gospel and whose w eart has never h en made glad under the civi- ti zing influence of Christianity, we cannot tell, h Where Religion, even in its influence upon tl inn a citizen of this woald, rises to our view, g e are presented with interests which none can s illy appreciate ; but, when, 011 the other hand, e nr sympathies are enlisted in behalf of those h ho know no religion but that of Nature, we are b rapped in darkness of which none can give an legate description, arid bow in silence beneath v misery that falls with the blight of death upon b le entire man. No songs of sacred melody are e vcr hoard?no -flowers of heavonly loveliness p -e ever seen?aad from peace and joy such as p icet the heart and hopes of rational beings they a re forever estranged. To know how much we are indebted to the Ii ible for all that endears life to us, we have, in g range contrast with this gloomy picture, but to is >ok out upon our own happy home. c UoIiaM o AnAiilo IP Kntvinr* ft\ flirt Wnrrl ? A/QUV/i\l ?? |/W|/IVt '? _ iiv/u wuiuc WV W?v ' V?V* V f God as a rule of life, yet giving a cordial as- c int to its Jieavenly origin. Under its divine c glit, they devise and enforce those wholesome. a ws and regulations that have ever been fonnd Jj ecessary to the well-being of society. Under 1< s great principles, they erect temples of Litem- tl ire and Science, aud subject their time and day r; > the influence of lightened mind. > r; Its influence is seen in. the conduct of those* f< ho exhibit an.ever expanding regard for man, 0 5 lie rises in the scale of true greatness, but h mmiseration, as he seeks his happiness amid d le mean and beggarly elements of infamy and f, itne. Every wholsomo law of our land, is but j, i embodiment of its spirit; ai d every high eti- j agement of life, but a willing subjection to its t] eavenly restraints. v Its blessings arc not confined to the heart or tl ome of the Christian, but are dispensed with ountlless munifieencp. among those who scorn ;e communion of the Church, and resist the anlority of Him who holds tjieir souls in being. ^ As citizens of this world, our existence is un- ? er an angry cloud, and amid fearful elements; ut with the Bible in our hands those elements ^ lay he hushed into harmless repose, and that ^ oud is even now spanned with the bow of pro- ^ lisc and hope. . ' * ? f PIctnres of Home. 1 DRAWN BY THE PENCIL OF LOVE. Jj "Home thy joys are passing lovely? $ Joys no strangers heart can tell." r What a claim rests upon the endearing name! s onsecrated by domestic love?the golden key c f earthly happiness. Without this, hope would a e like a temple stripped of its garlands; there t father welcomes, with fotid affection ; a broth- p 's kind sympathies corifort in the hour of dis- r ess, and assists in every trial; there a pious v lother first taught the infant to lisp the nnrtie [ Jesus; and there a loved sister dwells, the )m pan ion of early days. Truly if ihere'is ought that is lovely* here be- 0 ?w, it is home?sweet home! It is like the j nsis of the desert. The passing of our days { lay be painful; our path was checked withsor- . >w and aire; unkindness and frowns may wither le joyousness of the heart, eft'ace the happy niles from the brow, and bedew life's way with ^ jars, yet when the memory hovers over the past, icre is no place where it delights to linger, as c in loved scenes of childhood's home! It is the ? olar star of existence. What cheers the marier, far away from his native laud in a foreign ort, or tossed upon the bouudiug billows, as he ices the deck at midnight alone?what thought v lis his breast ? lie is thinking of the loved 1 ,r away at his own happy cottage ; in his mind's ^ ire he sees the smiling group seated around the a leerful fireside. In imagination he hears them niting their voices in singing the sweet songs $ hich he loves. He is anticipating the hour ^ hen he shall return to his native land, to greet ^ lose absent ones so dear to his heart. P Why rests that deep shade of sadness upon v le stranger's brow as he seats himself amid the v mily circle ? He is surrounded by all the luxues that wealth can afford, happy faces gather round him and strive in vain to win a smile, t h, he is thinking of his own home; of the k wed ones assembled within his own cheerful v it. d Why those tears which steal down the cheeks f that young and lovely girl, as she mingles in ic social circle ? Ah! she is an orphan; she ' >0, bad a happy home; but that house is now d irsaken and desolate; its loved ones are now ecping in the cold and silent tomb. The gene mother who watched over her infancy, and b ushed her to sleep with a lullaby, which a moth- >5 only can sing; who in girlhood days taught er of her Saviour, and turned her" youthful >icc to sing the praise of his name, has gone e > the mansions of joy above, and is mingling er songs, and tuning her golden harp with ^ right angels in heaven. Poor one! She is * ow left to tread the golden path of life, a lone- t( homeless wanderer. ' v Thus it is in this changing world.?The ob- 3 cts most dear to us are snatched away. We c deprived of the friends we most love, and ir cherished home is rendered desolate. " Pass- g ig away," is engraven on all things earthly. r' ut there is a homo that knows no changes, here separations never take place, where the trrowing of this world may obtain relief for all b icir griefs, and where the siglis and tears of ft arth are exchanged for unending songs of joy. jiis home is found in Hqavcn. In the shadowy past, there is one sweet renie- 1 liscence which the storms of life can never withr, it is the recollection of home. In the yisioned uture, there is one bright star whose lustre never ades; it is the hope of home?of a heavenly lome. . ' __ A lady in the West has J>een kind enough to end us a copy of Audrew Jackson's Epitaph 1 m his wife, ft is known to have been his own 1 ompoMtion, yet although it has been read by wiidreds on her tomb in Tennessee, it has nevr appeared in print before. This singular in- I criptiou reads thu's: . < ' Here lie the remains of Mrs. Rachel Jack* ' on, wjle of President Jackson, who died on 1 lie 22J of December, 1828r aged 61. Iler < ice was fair, her person pleasing, her temper I miable,' and her heart kind. She delighted in elieving the wants of her fellow creatures, and I ultivated that tHwiile pleasure, by the most ] ibcrnl and unpretending methods. To the J oor she was a benefactress; to the rich she i fas an example; to the wretched a comforter; i i the prosperous ati ornament; her pity went i and in hand with her benevolence; and she hanked her Creator for being permitted to do i ood. A being so gentle, arid yet so virtuous, I lander might wound butcould.not dishonor? i veil death when he tore her froin the arms of ] er husband, could but transplant her to the I osom of her God." Few persons will read this noble epitaph ] MtliAnf omnfrnn If 'o rvnoore in lie t1lA_ UOfU i r llUVUb uiuunuiif aw ?i?v ? w. j < est specimen of such composition we have 1 ver seen?at least for the tomb of a private < erson and a woman, .It is perfectly simple, i erfectly sincere; and yet is full of elegance i nd energy. I Good epitaphs arc rare in private movements, i nsineerity and fulsome praise are the most i eneral defects. " He lies like a tombstone," 1 i a proverb in many languages. Bat another > otnnion defect is conceit. This is the result f a wish to be finej and a desire to imitate ertain epitaphs on great men, which have been { elebrated in books.- These celebrated epitaphs ( re epigrams. They are not unsuitable to pub-, j c tombs of publics individuals; because a li&e-~ , f sense of personal grief is not expected in , be' minds" of those who erect them,?hut ] ather a sentiment of calm and elevated admi- j atron, which leaves the intellect free for a | >rmal effort, in cbinposition. But the tomb { f a private toan or woman is built by his or. , er nearest friend-. The only, thing that ren- j ers it interesting is the sacred grief of that ' riend. Now, grief-does not find an utterance j ? ? <* ~C :? J , i epigram, jurui ui ejipiccwiuu id j irect, earnesfand rational. Such expression, | hereftire, only is becoming to the torubof one < i-ho is publicly unknown*. Epigram isaffopta- < ion tHere, and consequently disgusting. *' Richmond Examiner. ? -i Men of the Revolution.?-Gen. Greene, in pi lis dispatches, after the battle of Eutaw, savs; i Hundreds of my men were naked as they vere born." Judge Johnson, in his life of Jreene,says: "Posterity will scarcely believe hat the bare loins of many men who carried leath into the enemy/s rauks, at the Eutaw, . vere galled by their cartouch boxes, white a l old of a rag or a tuft of -moss protected the i houlder from the same injury from the mus- , ;eL" Gen. GreCne says, in his letters,to the lecretary of war: "We have three hundred j ncn withoukarms, and more than.one hundred | o naked that they can be put on ^ity only on \ ases of a desperate nature,' Our difficulties ,re so numerous, and our want so pressing, hat"I have not a moments relief from the most , minful anxieties. I have more embarrassncnts than it is proper to disclose to the* rorld." > > ( . 1 i Cathedral in CiiAnLESTns.?The Charles. 3ii Standard announces,the early completion ( if the Roman Catholic Cathedral in that city. | t will cost about ?30,000, and will be a struc- i ure of rare beauty and grandejr. The follow- ] lg are its dimensiens: length 254 feet, breadth < '5 feet, height of , steeple 216 feet, width of t ave 30 feet, distance from door to chancel | 00 feet, from floor to apex of ceiling 54 feet, | liancel 22 feet deep, width of aisles 15 feet, hancel window 13 by 16 feet. The building : z?nnnlila of cpnlintr frtim 11SO tn 1000 nersons. ?r? a, Intempeeance asd Taxes.?Tax pavers! rhen will you awake to the enormous burdens hat the liquor traffic is Imposing on you?? jock and see whata number of commitments rc mado to the jail of your county, from one }ourt to another, the oosts of which are from 15 to $30 each, besides board at two or three ollars a week, and then ask yourself, "Who as to foot the bill? Why pays all these expenses?" And if, after all, you remain an adocate for dram drinking, do be consistent, rill you, and cease prating about high taxes!" The young ladies in Vermont it is said, hough we do not believe it, still continue to iss the lips of young temperance men, to see whether they have been tampering with tody Prudent men lock up motives; letting famiars have a key to their hearts, as to their garem ft. ^ t The cash value of the real and personal esute in Tennessee* according to the last census i 201,246,650. " Kind words are the brightest flowers ofearth's xistence ; they make a very great paradise of lie humblest home that the world can show. Ise them, especially round the fireside circle. I'hey are jewels beyond price and made more 3 heal the wounded heart, and make me feighed-down-spirit glad, than all other blesings the earth can give. 1 "A good book is like a guardian angel, sugesting good purposes, and prompting to a ? ight course of action." I The sugar crop of Lousiana, it is said, will p larger for 1852 than ever before. It will I illy reach 290,000 hogsheads. a ^he Aztec children are in Now Yorlfand are about to visit Europe.- The tif Commerce says they have so much improve'trfB in health, tbut "the Lite }iisa'rfl6te "CompCTni^^H now offer (d:iake them.at^jefir.jifKcent, as twenty percent, was refused by year ago! ./fhehe rsiuYperceptible increase 4n"4| their stature, though they show an increased^ iritellecfualrfovelopmeut*, anil use a few EirgtigfeM wof-ds in expression of their ideas, 'i'he bOraH is about sixteen years of age, and the gitlS Sad Accidknt.^?We are pained tb iy^nf '^j that on last Saturday, at the parade of the'Eb'w- '-M ?r battalion of the Shinda Regiment, knownyrs-iS Chalk Level," Mr. William Griffin, as a thy citizen of out: Distiict, and a restde)s$^wMB Catnbridge..met with an accident of a mosf drs^H trcssing character.. yw So far as we have been able to gather the^H facts, they are substantially as Allows Mr! G, loft "ho me upon the mo mi n g ij^queitiAS^E with a double-barrel percnssion-loek gem, heavly loaded/. In order to preventaecrdent,!;fiSM state? that he palled the caps off* before ng on parade. '' After the close of the exorcises of the day.^H ind just as the senior officer, Capt. Irwip, gafe'^m :he command of "order arms," so. as to aiio\*'3| v short time to rest, preparatory to dismissal", "?M Mr. Griffin, after bringing his gbn to the posRoH don of order, doubtless behig fatigued,^andlJ^S Drder to make his position as comfortable a.f Jm possible, thre w his left hand upon the mi&ucafl sf the gun, ajid rested his right arm .upon band of the.'k-ft..,.He /without .suffiereut p'WHH iencc placed Jiis.foot^ upon ope of the. pgd^SH ind forced it back which tiroe'liis.fooLflipp^HB i '.Jf ?K~ i'I.iaii. 11JU tllU -WCJJW VII till? ,VbJl ' written by miss Mary Tolcs;'.'By. being.de?f ind dumb Ave ttre preventedLfron^jh^Mi^mfcJ ay things which would niake us unhappy,'-aft* ' Speaking tilings which \yo should not; and?; have^often thought that our reward in heavens would be oven greater ; for, wiH not. the fdH tide ofglorious melody sound even morebeati- * tiful to those ears which never wake to the dis? ' cord of earth?" There is a difference between seeing a good book and reading it?between reading it and remembering it?between remethbering it and understanding it?and between understanding it and applying it to practice. A tax of twenty-five cents on every barrel or lask of ardent spirits containing over twenty gallons, sold in Wheeling, has been levied by the authorities. P A ivrrn Tfl RrntTT ITunv- Ttia Vow / York papers state, that of the one thousand-", men who formed the New York Regiment in the Mexican Wnr, -only sixty are alive, and bnt" forty of these are able to earn their living. The human heart is like a mill stone in mill; when yob put wheat under it, it turns^ md grinds and bruises the wheat into flour; if you put no wheat in, it still .grinds on ; but hen it is itself it grinds, and slowly wears 1 way.?Luther. ? " - ,.,-J A wicked wag wf a lawyer, in a country^ jourt, recently scandalised the bench by pbu ;ing the following query to his professional.;^ brethren 1 "Why is Judge??like necessitdEft The members ot the bar present quickly a?F$ swered"?Because he knows ho law, - -m *' ^ "Hello, I say, what did you aa^ your medi* ;ine would cure ?" t -.i 0, it'll cure everything?heal any thing." "Ah, well, I'll take a bottle. May" be it ll :* leel my boots; they need it bad enough!" * a > It may not be generally known that editors . jet one important item of subsistence at a low jrice?tkcy get bored for nothing. What makes the lawyer's position so perilous! ' lecatise he has other men's deeds to answer for s well as bis own.