VOLUME l7 CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA TUESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 27,1S5T . NUMBER^^ mmmmmmommmBKamammpgaatmri riuma?ga?a?gq??nan 1'GlSLISflED WEEKLY 11.Y j THOMAS J. WARREN. t IJiBjisi d Two Dollars if paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if payment be delayed three months, and ( n,n.,M ir nut. nniil till the e.VDiration ofthe.vcar. j 1 III UU i/UI???.o %? r 4 ADVERTISEMENTS will bo inserted at the fol- I " lowing rates: For one Square, (fourteen lines or less,) g seventy-live cents tor the first, and thirty-seven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single in- t sertions. one dollar per square; semi-monthly, month- j ly and quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a single insertion. v The number of insertions desired must be noted >' on the margin of all advertisements, or they will be n published until ordered discontinued and charged ac- r cordingly. : iltoffllniifons. ? From the Ntio York Tribune. ^ LIFE AT THE FIVE POINTS. t THE TWO-PENNY MARRIAGE.. 'v c "Mr. Pease, we want to be married." | "Want to be married?what lor?" "Why you see, we- don't think it is right for us to be living together this way any longer, and ,x we have been talking over the matter today, c and you see " "Yes, yes, I see you have been talking over > ttie matter over uie uoiuo ?uu n...v w...v .. ^ sort of drunken conclusion to yet married.? When you get sober you will boih repent of it, j* probably." . . "Xo, sir, \vc are not very drunk now, not so }] drunk but what we can think, and we don't think we are doing right?we are not doing as < we were brought up to do by pious parents.? We hav.e been reading the good things you have done for just such poor outcasts as we are and we want you to try and do something for us." "Read! .. Can you read ? Do von read the Bible?" "Well npt much lately, bat we read the news- |( papers and'sometimes we read something good t in them. How can we read the Bible when we j are drunk!" "Do you think getting, married will keep you .x from gettiug drunk? u "Yes, for we are going to sign the pledge too, t a id we shall keep it. depend upon that." "Suppose you take the pledge and try that first, and if you can keep it till you can wash ^ o ,|1Q ??vnr sin,! dy, bust into a viol -ntH >>d of tears, j cryi ig "Mnher, mother, I know not whethershe ? is alive or not, and dare not inquire; but if we t w.-re married and reformed, L would make her j happy once more." t "I eould no longer stand the appeal," said v Mr. P., "and determined to give them a trial. 1 have married a good many poor, wretched look- c ing couples, but none that looked quite so much so as this. The man was hat less and shoeless, t without c*>ut or vest, with long hair and beard j, grimed with dirt. lie was by trade a bricklay- v er, one of the best in the city. She wore the j, last remains of a silk bonnet, and something that (| might pass for shoos, and an old, very old dress, once a rich merino, apparently without any un- v der garments." ., "And your name is Thomas?Thomas what ?*' "Kiting, sir. Thomas Kiting, a good t rue name and true man, that is, shall be if you marry us." "Well, well. I am going to marry you." * "Are you ? There, Mag, J told you so." v "Hon't call inc Mag. If I am going to he married, 1 will be my right name, the one my* t mother gave me." "l I, "Not Mag? Well, I never knew that" \ "Now, Thomas, hold your tongue, you talk . too much." "What is your name ?" f "Matilda. Must I tell the other ? les, twin. ^ and I never will disgrace it. I don't think I should ever been so bad if 1 had kept it. That j bad woman who first tempted me to ruin, made \ ?ne take a false name. It is a bad thing for a girl to give up her name, unless for that of a j good husband. Matilda Fraley. Nobody knows N ine by that name in this bad city." j ' Very well, Matilda and Thomas, take each ( by the right hand, and look at me, for I am now J going to unite you in the holy bonds of marriage ?-i by God's ordinance. Do you think you are I sufficiently sober to .comprehend its solemnity ?" a "Yes, sir." . j "Marriage being one of God1 holy ordinances, n cannot be kept in sin, misery, filth and drunken- a Hess. Thomas, will you take Matilda to be your t lawful, true, ouly wedded wife?" ; si MVi-s, sir." I "You promise tliat you will live with her, in ! I sickness as well as health, and nourish, protect t and comfort her as your true and faithful wife; j t that you will be to her a true and faithful hu>- \ t band; that you will not get drunk, and will i t ciothe yourself and keep clean ?" "So I will." | I "Never mind answering until I get through. ! * You promise to abstain totally from every kind ! 1 of drink that intoxicates, and treat this woman I x kindly, affectionately, and love her as a husband ^ ' should love his wedded wife. Now all of this,' t will vou, here before me as the servant of the Most High?here in the sight of God in Ilea- s veil, most faithfully promise, if I give you this t woman to he your wedded wife ?" "Yes, I will." "And you, Matilda, 011 your part, will you 1 promise the same, and be a trim wife to this 1 man ?" "I will try, sir." "But do you promise all this faithfully ?' "Yes, sir, I will." "Then I pronounce you man and wife." "Now, Thomas," says the new wife, after I J had made out the certificate and ?jiven it to her, with an injunction to keep it safely?"now pay Mr. Pease, and l"t ih home and break the battle." Thomas felt first in the rijrht hand ? \ I locket, then the left, then back to the right, then ie examined the watch fob. "Why, where is it!" says she, "you had two iollars this morning!" "Yes, I know it, but I have only got two cents his evening. There, Mr. Pease, take them, it is II I have got in the world: what more can I ;iveJ" Sure enough, what could he do more \ I took hem and prayed over them, that in parting with he last penny, this couple might have parted with a.vice,a wicked, fooli-h practice which might lave reduced them to such a degree of poverty nd wretchedness, that the monster power of tm could hardly send its victims lower. So Tom and Mag were transferred into Mr. nd Mrs. Elting, and having grown somywhat norc sober while in the house, seemed to fully inderstand their new portion, and all the oblifttions they had taken upon themselves. For a few days I thought occasionally of this wo-petmy marriage, and then it become absorbd with a thousand other scenes of wretchedness rhich I have witnessed since I have lived in this ..tir. r ,?f eltv miicrv Time wore on and 1 mar it'd many oilier couples?often those who came 1 their carriages and left a golden marriage fee -a delicate way of giving to the needy?but niong all I had never performed the rile for a ouple quite so low as that of this two-penny ;e, and I resolved I never would again. At . iiglh, however, I had a call for a full match o them, which 1 refused. 'AY hy do you come to me to be married, my iend ?" said I to the man. "You tire both too oor to live separate, and besides you are both orrible drunkards, 1 know you are." "That is just what we want to get married jr, and take the pledge." "Take that first." ' No, we must take all together, nothing else rill save us." "Will that?'? "It did one of my friends." "Well, then, go and bring that friend here : t me hear and see how much itsavedhim, and hen I will make up my mind to what to do; if * i n c:ui do you anv goou i want to uo iu "My friend is at work ?lie has got a good job ud several hands working lor him ai d is making loney, and won't quit till night. Shail I come liis evening ?" "Yes, I will stay at home and wait for you." I little expected to see him agaiu, but about 'clock the servant said that a man and his ill, with a r/cntleiiuin and lud'j were waiting in lit* reception room. I told hiin to ask the ladv nd gentleman up to the parlor, and sit a inolent while I sent the candidates for marriage way, being determined never to unite another runken couple; not dreaming that there was ny sympathy between the parties. But they i'ou!d not come up; they wanted to see that ouple married. !So 1 went down and found the qualidlv wietehed pair in company with a weli rosed laboring man, for lie wore a line black oat, silk vest, gold watch and chain, clean while hirt and cravat, polished calfskin boots; and is wife was just as tidily dressed as anybody's rife, and le-r face beamed with intelligence, and he way in which she clung to the arm of her msband, as she seemed to shrink from my sight, old that she was a loving as well as pretty rife. "This couple," says the gentleman, "have onie to be married." "Yes, I know it, but I have refused. Look at hem; do they look like fit subjects for such a ioIY ordinance.' (?od never intended those ihoin lie created in his own image should live u matrimony like this man and woman. 1 canlot marry them." Cannot! Why not? You married us when vc were worse-oti?moic dirty ? worse clothed uid more intoxicated." The woman shrunk back a little more out of iglit. I saw she trembled violently, and put a lean cambric'"handkerchief up to her eyes. What could it mean ? Married when they vcre wor-e off! Who were they ! "Have you forgotten us ?" ?aid the woman, akino mv hands in hers, and dropping on her O V ' . w ,uces, "have you forgotten drunken Tom and dag? We have not forgotten you, but pray for ?>u every day." "If you have forgotten them, you have nut bigot ten the two penny marriage. No wonder ou did in t know us. 1 told Matilda she need lot he afraid or ashamed if you did know her, Jut kil'-w you could not. lluw could yoi^?? IV c were in rags and dirt then. Look at us now. VII your work, Sir. All the. blessing of that h-dgc and that marriage .nul that g??od advice ou gave us. Look at this suit of clothes, and ler dress?all Matilda'.-) work, every stitch of it. ,'otnc and look at our lious-*, as neat as she is. ?verything in it to make a home comfortable ; uid o!i, Sir, there is a cradle in our bed-room, five hundred dollars already in baud, and I shall idd as much more next week when I finish my ob. So much for one year of a sober life, and i faithful, hottest good wife. Now this man is rs good a workman to 1 am, only lie is bound [own with the galling fetters of drunkenness, uid living with this woman ju-t as 1 did. Now, ic thinks that lie can reform just as w< II as me; nit he thinks lie must have taken the pledge lie same man, and his first effort sanctified with lie same blessing, and then with a good resolition, and Matilda and me to watch over them, 1 lo believe they will succeed." So they did. So may others by the same wans. I married them, and as I shook hands vith Mr. Kiting, at parting, he left two coins in tiy hand, with the simple remark that there vas another two-penny marriage fee. I was in iopes that it might have been a couple of dollars it is time but I said nothing, and we parted with t mutual t 188,400 persons licensed to sell spiiits and wine, and 33,(558 licensed t? sell beer. In 1851 there were 31.000,000 gallons of spirits consumed in Great Britain in one year, with nearly 0,500,OOlt gallons of lor?.' c:gii wine. The whole amount thence nccru' ing to the public revenue is over fifteen millions sterling. It will he seen, from this statement, that the temperjun e men have a formidable opposition to encounter. Beaitifll 3 i.it ilk.?The following is from one of the discourses of Donne: ' : "The ashes of an oak in the chimney me I iu> epitaph of th.-iL oak, to toll me how high, or II liow large that was. It tolls me not what llooks i it sheltered \?Idle it stood, nor what men it. 1 hurt when it led. The dust of groat poi son's 1 graves is speechless too.? it says nothing, it distinguishes notion" As soon the dust the noble Hour; and this the yeomanry?this the plebeian I bran ( ' It is but a short stop from modesty to humility; but a shorter one from vanity to Ibllv, and Irom weakness to falsehood.? fax valet. From BtUs Weekly Messenger. Interesting discovert at Jkrusai.em,?The hi: following extract of a letter, dated at Jerusalem, fo; May 1G, lfijd, has been sent to us by a friend 1J for publication: wi "I was spending a couple of days at Artas, to the hurlua clusus of the monks, and probably an the 'garden enclosed' of the Canticles, when I tw was told there was a kind of tunnel under I he a* pool of Solomon. 1 went and found one of the 11 I most interesting things that I have seen in my ns ! travels, and of which no one in Jerusalem up- se j pears to have heard. I inentioned.it to the British Consul, who takes great interest in these I matters, and' to the Rev. Mr. Nicolayson, who th has been here more than twenty years, and they us had never heard of it. At the center of the ca eastern side of the lowest of the three pools, no there is an entrance nearly closed up, then fol- of lows a vaulted passage sonic 50 feet long, lead- tei ing to a chamber about 13 feet square and eight w< feet high, also vaulted, and from this there is a be passage, also arched, under the pool, and inten to tied to convey the water of a spring, or of the hii pool itself, into the acqucduct which leads to Jc rei rusalem, and is now commonly attributed to re; Petitions Pilate. This arched passage is six an feet high and three or four feet wide. Each of su the other two pools has a similar arched way, 't. which has not been blocked up, and one of which sir I saw by descending first into the rectangular hi: well. . or "The great point of interest in this discovery is this, it has now been thought for some years au that the opiniun.of the invention of the arch by go the Romans has been too hastily adopted. The da usual period assigned to the arch is about B. C. wt 600. We thought we discovered a contradiction bit of this idea in Egypt, but the present case is far rig more satisfactory. The whole of the long p;is Ls sage of fifty feet, the chamber fifteen feet square he and the two duors, and the passage under the av pools in each case are true 'Romanarches with wi a perfect key-stone. Now, jus it never lias been a i seriously doubted that Solomon built the pools sei liim ???? ! tel.w>Ii lm ixmKnlili' ro. fill HSOJ^IICU HUM, auu Lu nuivu nv. put/uu.j . v fers in Ecclesiastca ii., G, the arch, must of course Hu have been well known, about, or before, the time rh of the building of the first temple, 13. C. 1012. The 'sealed fountain' which is near, has the same ' in several places; but this might have been l!o; man. But here the arched ways pass pro- so bably the whole, distance uuder the pools, pr and are, therefore, coeval with them, or were ru- to ther built before them, in order to convey the sti water down the valley, "to water therewith the de wood that brought forth trees.' What I saw wi convinced me, at least, that the perfect key stone ag Itomau arch was in familiar use in the time of Solomon, or 1000 years before the Christian era. J AS. COOK WCll MONO." Imi'Ortaxt to those Owning Slaves.?The Su- pi, prcine Court of Alabama recently rendered the tit following decision in reference to the hiring of a slaws, which is alike interesting and importunt. th The decision is a wise one : to J 1. When the contract of hiring, as reduced , to writing, Is general In lis terms, not restricting flc the employment of the slave to any particular ta business, the bailee is authorised to employ him m in any business to which slaves arc ordinarily o\ put, and which is not attended with extraordi- pc nary risk, or peril to life or health, and parole ui proof is not admissible to show that the slave I was only to be employed in a particular busi- fr< i ncss. Ui ! 2. The hirer of a slave may ro-liire him to ni : another being responsible to the owner for bis ye proper treatment, and for his not being employed otherwise than is authorized by the scope of m his original contract of hiring. ex 3. If'he hirer employs the slave in a hazard- ta oils business, not warranted by his contract, i r ta linn in jiiu,ther. to be emnloved in such I hazardous business, and' the slave, while thus em- hi ployed, is killed, even by inevitable accident the kt owner may regard such misuse of the slave as a at conversion, and recover the value from the an hirer. ? * ?all i Cckious Historical Fact.?During the di.< trouble in the reign of Charles I., a country tli girl came to London in search of a place as a ra servant maid, hut not succeeding, she hired herself to carry out beer from a warehouse, re and was one of those called tub-women. The to In ewer ob-erving a good looking girl in thi< low occupation, took her into his family as a ly i servant, and after a short time married her. in J lie died while she was yet a young woman, to and left her the hulk of his fortune. The business of brewing dropped, and Mr. Hide was : recommended to the young woman as a skill an '< lul lawyer, to arrange her husband's affairs, an I Hide, who was Earl of Clarendon, finding the sa I widow's fortune considerable, married her. of By this marriage, there was no other issue than w a daughter, who was afterwards the wife of Ik James II., and mother of Mary and Anne, vt Queens of England. tli A New Extkmmmsi-:.? We see it stated that cu they are making houses of papier mac he in tli England, for exportation to Australia and In- hi din. These houses, (says an English paper,) ev which contain from four to ten rooms each, can uj be readily taken down and re erected within pa , a period of from four to six hours, so that, irn- e.\ i mediately on landing in his new home, the eti | emigrant may find himself in a comfortable w< | residence. These houses will ho less than one- re I third the cost of ordinary brick houses, and it pi I is probable that they will, ere long, he exlen- pt sively adopted lor summer houses, paik lodges, ar | railway stations, and muvcnblu barracks, to sj| nil .it' tvlii.-h nnmoscs liicv are admirably adap uc .... ... r?. ted. They arc music with hollow walls, there- all by excluding damp; ami in the Mast Indies d ?w?4 ovil iutuntinnx? u ou>Q,j 1 fluid, electrical in the force and rapidity of ovemeuts, silently flowing unseen within its vn secret avenue; yet it is the controlling over of all animated matter, and the chief ain spring of all our actions. What is happiness? A buttcrlly that roves jm flower to flower in the vast garden of exence, and which is eagerly pursued by the ultitude in vain hope of obtaining the prize t it continually eludes their graspNY hut is fashion ? A beautiful envelop for ortnlity presenting a glittering and polished terior, the appearance of which gives no cerin indication of the real value of what is conined therein. What is wit? A sparkling beverage that is ghly exhilirating and agreeable, when partan at the expense of others; but when used our own cost, it becomes bitter and upleasiti What is knowledge? A key that unravels I mysteries, which unlocks the entrance, and scovers new, unseen, and untrodden paths in c hitherto unexplored field of science and liteture. What is fear? A frightful substance ty the ally guilty, but a vain and harmless shadow the conscientious, honest, and upright. What is joy ? The honey of existence, realbeneficial and agreeably when partaken of moderation, but highly injurious when used excess. ? Anecdote of Gen. Jackson.?The Hon. id Rev. , who, as a Baptist preacher id Lieutenant Governor, had at one and the ,me time boot) in the service of the Lord and the State of Illinois, becoming dissatisfied itil the honors or profits, or both, of the posts s held, determined to resign them, and dene his time and talents to the assistance of e administration in carrying on the general ivornment of the country. Adoording y he Line to Washington, and laid his case before o President. He stated his pretensions and s wishes, narrated at some length all the eiits of his political life, dwelling especiall> >ou his untiring devotion to the Democratic irty, the sacrifices he had submitted to, the ;ertions he had made in its behalf, and its insequent indebtedness to him, but not a urd for what he hail done for the cause of ligioii. Gen. Jackson heard tho clerical as rant in silence, and alter musing a moment, it the following (juestions to liini: "Mr. K., o you not a minister of the gospel " I am, r," was the reply. "Then sir," said the Geral, with his usual quiet dignity, "you hold ready a much higher ollice than any in my fi?an ollice whose sacred duties, properly rlbrined. require your whole attention ; and ally 1 think the best 1 can do for you will lie leave you at liberty to devote your whole nu to them; for, from what you tell me, I ar that hitherto they have been somewhat glccted." Hogs on thk Wabash.?We learn from a ntleman Iroui the Wabash Valley, and par 1 ' ' ?i 1 ..? T II Iliariy 111 llio Ill'IgllOUIIiwuu \ji icnc uauic, that lings arc umrc abundant than ever io\vn in that region before, and the farmers e ottering to contract lor packing at 2 1-2 to cents net The corn crops are also repro 11led as in a flourishing condition, and large ops anticipated.? Lovisvillc Covrirr. Tun NT:wsi'ArKK>? Iiuw lonesoind the lire- \ side where there is no' newspaper?- Ask the mail who has Intd a family paper Io read, with * the larc.^t news', the good stories, tfib'-useful lea-' sons, and the witty sayings of thd newspaperask him its value. Let him hd'deprived of it for a few weeks, and,then ask-him* to put an estimate upon it. Will he say that two or-; three dollais are too much ? No; no; he will esteem it one of his greatest treasures, and ^ will value it accordingly. We were led to these reflections the other day, by an industrious worthy man, who called /, at our office to subscribe for a paper. Said he, "I was taking it but times were so hard, I ,/ paid up and quit; and I find 1 can't get along -! without it. 1 have northe money to pay now, i and I have called to see if I coulJ get1 it on a- \ credit till fall; for I must have it on some terms ?I would not be without it for ten dollars." \ Of course we placed his name 011 our list 1 with great eheerlulness. Such men are the . best subscribers" in the world, except those -J wiio pay down. They will always pay at the s> time it talis due. , . ] Every family ought to have a phper; it is a ; duty they owe to their children,- if nothing.^ eNc. Who wishes their children tb'grow in 'j imi r.iof i/rnortn/ia in /irrlnr in civa fhu nri^o rif HVW.UV, *U.V, r..V? ? a newspaper ?" Old and New Fkiends.?There is'no great-. -* or .fallacy than that which leads us to4 rely for aid on the sympathy of what are by courtesy called old friends?that is to say, near relatives, close neighbors, our father's associates, our own companions.<~Tliere is no comparison between the cold callousness of Such and the : vigorous warmth of new furmed and chancer 1 chosen connexions. Old friends have ,been Jmade for us?new ones are our own ranking.Our measure, so to express it, has npVer b^eu . naken for the first. No wonder they fit so ill, and hang so loosely. Yet, when-a* miitt starts in life, he is so proud of his "old friends," and \ what is worse, so sura of them! lie reckoned his importance in proportion to the number of < those reeds, which are not yet broken -ouly because he does not happen to have leaned ou ' thein-r-and the hypocrite " rid 6> whom he boasts of his imagined jewels,- never has the candor to tell him they are paste. But he finds out the truth! . . . ' ] Good Bve.?The Editor of the Albany Register comments. tbu3 upon this simple word, ?o common and yet so -full of: solemn: and tender meaning. . ^ ''How many emotions cluster aroUndthat ' word. How full of sadneSs, and to us how full of sorrow it sounds. ' It is with us a consecrated word. We heard it oucfe within the year, as vt'e : hope never to .hear it again. It wa? in the chamber of death at the still hour of night's nooa. The curtains of the windows were all closed," the ; lights were shaded, and we stood in the dim apd solemn twilight with others -around" the bed of ; the dyiug. The dai?i>s of dealh were on her ' pule young brow, and coldness were btTTrerttp^? as we kissed her for the last time while living.? "Good-bye iny daughter," we whispered, and ' Good-bye, father," "came faintly from her-lips'. We know not if she ever spoke more, btrt "Croodbye" was the last we ever heard of her sweet voice. We hear that last sorrowful word often and often as we sit alone, busy with memories. * of the past. We hear it in the silence of the night, in the hours of A nervous wakefulness, -as we lay upon the bed thinking of thofovbd nnd - lost to us. We hear it in our dreams, when.her < sweet face comes back to us, as it was in its loveliness and beauty.?We hear it-when" wo I sit beside lief grave in the cemetery tl'hore &ho s'eep*, alone,- with novkindrcd as yet by Iter side. She was the hope of onr life, the prop upon J which to lean when age should come upon us, and life should he ruuning to its dregs.?The < hope and the prop is gone, and we Care not how soon we go down to sleep beside oirr darling, beneath the shadow of the trees in tho-city of the dead." ; Always Happy-Always Cheerful.?"Why * this constant, happy flow of spirit ? "No secret, doctor," replied the Mechanic. I have oi.e of the best of wives; and whefr I go to . work she always lias a kihd word of encour- agemcnt for me, and when I hoiire she meets me with a stnile.and a. kiss,- rind is sure to be ready ; and she has many things during the day to please me, and I cannot find it in my heart to speak uuk ud to anybody," What an influence, then, hath woman over the heart of man. to soften it. and make it the fountain of cheer- 1 ful and pure emotions! Speak gently, then ; a haypy smile and n kind word ot'greetings, aft?r toils of the day are over'cost nothing, and go far toward making a home happv and peaceful. A (ioou Man's wisii.?I freely confess *to you that I would rather, when I am laid in my, grave, some one in his manhood should stand over me and say?* There lies one who was a real friend to me, and privately warned me of i the dangers of the young; uo One knew it, hut he aided me in the time of need. I owe what I am to him,' Or 1 would rather have some widow, with choking utterance, telling her children, 4 There is your friend and mine. He visited me in my affliction, and found you my son, an employer, and you my daughter, a happy home in a virtuous family.' 1 say, I would rather such persons should stand at my i grave, than to have, erected over it the most j beautiful sculptured monument of Parisian or Italian marb'e. The heart's broken ollcranco of reflections of past kindness, and the tears of grateful memory shed upon the grave, are more valuable, in my estimation than the most cost- > ly cenotaph ever reared.?Dr. S/tarp AuvKRsrrr.?A late writer say, "Nobody bears advei>it) like a woman. Remove her u Irnm the parlor to the garret, and instead ofta- j king arsenic, as a man would, she actually be? j comes more cheerful. Like a lark the nearer j >he approaches heaven the more she seems to sing." ^ '3 Tub Frost in Illinois.?The Aurora Gnar? J dian states that the frost in that vicinity last week did great damage, cutting off large crops of Muckwheat, potatoes, com. Are. | J