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^ < I. Ml I III. . JI. 'I' '"T? fWI VOL 1. N (Tljf f oittljrnt (Butemrar, ' i A REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS.; waiwitiHiSUfic xE iPSRcgaSs, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. T. J. & W. P. Price, Publishers.! r?7JU3n-MM9Si? *1 50, |?nyable |n advance ; $2 if delayed. CLUBS of TEN and upwards $1, tlio money j In every instance to accompany the order. AD vF.UTISEMTCNTrt inserted oonsprcuouSty at the rates of 73 cento per square of 18 lines, and 25 cento for each subsequent insertion. Contracts for yearly advertising made reasonable. % 3ftatf <?tm J 1) el ti o 10 c i) ft i i) g 1 e t. BY THE LATE MBS. A. B. WELBY. llcre is a little golden tress Of soft unbraided hair, The all that's left of loveliness That once was thought so fair, And yet. though time has dimiu'd its sheen, Though all beside hath fled, Y i- i i :i i - i. .* 1 imid iL iivrti, u uiik utjiwf?u My spirit and the dead. Yek, from this shining ringlet still A mournful memory springs. That, melts my heart* nnd sends a thrill I Throughalfits trembling strings; I think of her, the loved, the wept, Upon whose forehead fair, For eighteen years, like sunshine, slept , This golden curl of hair. j Oh, sunny trees! the joyous brow Where thou didst lightly wove With all thy sister trusses, now Lies cold within the grave. 1 hat cheek in of lU bloom bereft, 1*1 uit eye no more is gay: Of all her beauties thou arc left A solitary ray. Four years have passed, this very June, Since last we fondly met? Four years 1 and yet it seems too soon To let tho heart forget? Too soon to let that lovely face From our sad thoughts depart. And to another give the place Bhe held within the heart. Her memory still within my mind Retains its sweetest power; It is the perfume left behind, ' To whisper of tho flower. Each blossom that in moments gone Bound up this sunny curl, Recalls the form, the look, the tone Of that enchanting girl. ller step wna like an April rain O'er beds of violets flung; Her voice the "prelude to a strain Before the song is eung; || Her life, 'twaB liko a half blown flower Closed e'er the shades of oven ; Her death the dawn, the blushing hour That opes the gate of Heaven. A single tress?how light a tiling io swny sucii magic nrr, And bid each soft remembrance spring to. Like blossoms in the heart! It leads me back to days of old? To her I loved so long, Whose locks out-shone pellucid gold, Whose lips o'erflowed with^ng. * Sines then I've heard a thousand lays From lips as sweet as hers; Yet when I strove to give them praise, I only gave tliem tears. 1 could not bear, amid the throng Where jest and laugther rung, To hear another sing the song That trembled on her tongue. A single shining tress of hair To bid such memories start I But tears are on its lustre?there I lay it on my heart Oh 1 when In death's cold arms I sink, _ Who, thon with gentle care, * v Will keen for me a dark brown link? A ringlet of iny hair I 2 StH P9 of ? egt- is. * ?? W e always find mercy behind a clou?l if we look for it. Atowcmbnt for injuries is never disgraceful, but honorable. Quests are often invited to witness the oel?nMii>n of tha host MtN harm others by their deed*, themselves by their thoughts. Mim Edokworth say*: 'How virtuous shall we be, when we have no name for vice." No really brave and genorous hearted man ever nourished vindictive feeling*. Freedom is the chief blessing worth living for, and the aspiration worth dying for. r^)Lmoa is the art of being wise for other* ; 'policy* is the art of being wise for one's self. _ Chance.?Never let us say of anything FLh whatsoever, that it happen elh by chance : I vthere is nothing that bath not been concert* ed?nothing that hath not in it its own particular design and end, bv which it forms a link in the chain of appointed order. There ' is no such thing as chance. It is only the blindness of ignorance Ui.it talkelh of things being strange, and unaccountable, and unlucky,-? S. Batil. ' r~ * : GHEENi $iortj far ttic JJomt Cirri?. CifcuiftsiqnfUl ?biOcqce. A certain l)r. , some years ago, travelling in the west, became acquainted, on board of a steamboat, with a Mr. Hamilton who had been a member of the Legislature from his district, and was again a candidate for that office. After passing their time pleasantly, and becoming well acquainted with each other in course of the trip, Hamilton, on landing, invited tho Doctor to pass to his houso in tho village, which was kept by his sister, and tarry with him, while he remained in that part of the country? The Doctor remained with them a short time, and then departed on the land inspecting tour, into tho interior, which was the object of his visit to the west. u:i leaving tlie village on horseback, Hamilton accompanied the Doctor to show him his way; but becoming interested in the conversation of his companion, and not being particularly engaged at homo, ho continued with him until late in the afternoon, when coming to a number of branching roads, they lost their way. After journeying on until dark, in hone of reaching some house, whore they might obtain the requisite direction, they reached, just at nightfall, the banks of n river, on which they found tlio encampment of three stout laboring wayfarers with their families and wagons. They asked permission to spend the night with the party, and spent a portion of it around the fires, engaged in conversation on their various plans of emigration and settlement. At daylight, preparations were made for separation, and the Doctor received from one of the three men the direction of the vao/1 wa 4 " v*w?tvvt ivavi* xau iv/iu linn lucrt) were iwu roads, callod the "upper" and "lower" roads, but the "lower" one was that which he should take. lie took the one advised, and started with Hamilton. They went a short distance together* when Hamilton bade him good-bye, and left him. But before he dcEarted the Doctor told Hamilton that lie new he was in embarrassed circumstances, and wished to aid him if he couid. He offered to give hinj $500. This Hamiltou refused, but fiually accepted as a loan for a short time. Ho felt grateful for this kindness, and to reciprocate his good will according to his humblo means, took a breast-pin from his shirt, and gave it to the Doctor, and said jocularly, that ho hoped to see it some day adorning the bosom of some fair daughter of the West. In return for this, the Doctor took a pen knife from his pocket, on which was a silver plate with his name engraved on it, and on parting, gave it to Hamilton. Hamilton had gone but a abort distance from the spot where lie left the doctor, when ho heard the sharp rejiort of a rifle, and immediately after a doer bounded out before him and fell dead 011 the road. Hamilton got otf his horse, to examine tho animal, and, in doing so, got the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and his pantaloons and waistcoat bloody. He again mounted his horse and reached home. As soon as he did so, he changed his chotlies, and gave them to his sister to wash, desiring her to do it at once. That day he went round his villago and collected together his various bills, w hich ho paid. At night, after closing his office he stopped at the villago tavern, on his way to see a 1 idy to whom ho was engaged to be married. Beveral persons came in while ho was there, and declared that a murdcretl man had been found on a certain road, Hamilton immediately exclaimed "Heaven's ?it must be my friend the Doctor I" From tho tavern ho continued on his way to tho house of his betrothed, and while thore, her father camo in with threo police officers who arrested him for murder. He was takeu to prison, and was told the circumstances that led to suspecting him.? Ho ww u?ld fiini known he h?>d left the town with tho doctor, and was tho last person seen with him ; that ho hod been in difficulties.before his return, but had on that day paid all his debts?that his pistol and breostrpin had been found beside the body of the murdered doctor; that a knife, with the doctor's name on it. was found in his pocket; that he had pretended to loose his way in a country which was well known to him; and, finally, that ho had come home with blood stains on hia clothes, which he had given to hia sister with orders to wash immediately. On hearing this story recounted, Hamilton threw up his hands and exclaimed? that he "was a lost man." He was tried, convicted and sentenced,? The day for his execution arrived, but Hamilton was too ill to receive the final action o! the law, and was respited, Before this respite had expired, Hamilton died in prison. AH these facts had of course satisfied the publie mind that the virdicVVas just, and that Hamilton was the murderer?but abouf three years afterwards, one of the three men with whom our travellers had bivouacked on the bank of the river, was tried and con! rioted in the far west of murder. Before hii execution, he confMM that he was the ner ' son who hnd slain the foctor? that he nad fILLIi, S. C.: FRIDA stolen Haniiltou's pistol, (with which he commited the murder, and left it by the Doctor's body,) from his holster during the night, and after he liad^ heard in the chut around the camp tire that the Doctor had money with him, and was engaged in the purchaso of land.?Bait. Patriot. ? Stick t? Sotne ope fqfsqit. Thero cannot be a greater error than to bo frequently changing one's business. If any man will look around and notico who have got rich and who have not, out of those he started life with, he will find that the successful have generally stuck to some oncpur Two lawyers, for example, begin to practice at the samo time. One devotes lii9 whole mind to his profession; lays in slowly a stock of legal learning, and waits patiently, it may bo for years, till he gains an opportunity to show his superiority. The other, tiring of such slow work, dashes into politics. Generally, at the end of twenty years, the latter will not be worth a penny, while the former will have a handsome practice, and count his tens of thousands in bank stock or mortgages. Two clerks attain a majority simultaneously. One remains with his former employers, or at least in the same lino of trade, at first on a small salary, then on a larger, until finally, if he is meritorious, he is taken into partnership. The other thinks it beneath him to fill a subordinate position, now that he has become a man, aud accordingly starts in some other business on his own account, or undertakes a new firm in the old line of trade. Where does he end ? Often in insolvency, rarely in riches. To this every merchant can testify. A young man ia bred a mechanic. He acquires a distaste for hi i trade, however thinks it is a tedious way to get ahead, and seta out for the West or for California. But, in most coses the same restless, discontented and speculative spirit, which carried him away at first, renders continuous application at any one place irksome to him : and so he goes wandering about the world a sort of semi-civilized Arab, really a vagrant in character, and sure to die insolvent. Meantime his fellow apprentice, who has staid at home, practising economy and working steadily at his trade, has grown comfortable in his circumstances, and is even perhaps a citizen of mark. There are men of ability iu every walk of life, who arc notorious for never getting along. Usually it is because they never stick to any ono business. Just when they have mastered one pursuit, and aroon the point of making money, they change it for another, which they do not understand : and, in a little while, what little they are worth is lost for ever. We know scores of such persons. Go where VOU will, cenerallv find flint tK? men have failed in life are those who never stiu-k to one thing long. On the other hand, your prosperous man, nine times out of ten, has always tluck to one pur suit.-?Ltdger. Go oO 1) dbIce. Never believe, much less propagate an ill report about your neighbor, without good evidence of its truth. Never listen to nn infamous story handed to you by a man who is a known enemy of the person who is defumed, or is himself infamous for discord i among brethren and 'excite disturbance among society. Never utter the ovil which you know or suspect of another, till you i have had an opportunity to expostulate with liiin. Never speak evil of another while you are under tne operation of envy i or malevolence, but wait till your spirits are cooled down, that you may better judge whether to utter or suppress tho matter.? i Never express the evil you would say of i your neighbor in terms too strong, or in language that would convey an exagerated idea i of his conduct. Never throw out against a man broken hints and dark inuendoes, which ; would leave the hearers to suspect anything . that ill nature ean suggest. Never speak of i your owu enemy who wishes for an occasion , to slander; for lie certainly will paint the I image anew, and touch it ofT with bolder ' colors. In short never speak evil of a malt , when your speaking uoay probably do much t hurt, but cannot possibly do much good. i The youth who follows his appetites too , soon seises tho eup, before it has received its i best ingredients and by anticipating his pleas, urea, roba the remaining parte of life of their share, so that his eagerness only produoea a , mauhood of imbecility and an age of pain. The man of genius thinks for himself: liis opinions are sometimes contrary to these commonly received ; he therefore shocks the vanity of the greater mumber. They offend r nobody, we should have no idoas but those of the world; as a man is then without geni us and without onemies. | Aw old lady once said that her idea of a , great man was : "A man who was keerful of his clothes, did'nt drink sperits, kin read ! the Bible without spellin' the words and kin eat a cold dinner on washday, to save the j wimmen folks to the trouble of cooking" Ha who swears, informs us that his bare I word i* not to be credited. H iftrMtf H VI BJ i Y MORNING, AUG US Jtiiarltlnntntia XUniiing. Migclpiea of JfcQihct) i s in. Go for a moment in imagination to the great temple of J uggernaut, at Orissa. Kve-1 rv year more than a million of persons visit' this celebrated spot. The aged, the w <?ak, and tlie sick, undertake this pilgrimage as ?\ remedy for all evils. It is no uncommon occurrence, says one of our missionaries to that place, to see thousands of miserable, worn-out pilgrims, with a patience and fortitude worthy of a better cause, binding their tattered garmeuts round their lacerated feet, and go groaning along with bending back, tottering steps, emaciated forms, and dull. I sunken, eyes, from day to day, and week to ' week, until tlioy obtain the object their painful toils, a view of Juggernaut. Nor is it a matter of wonder that a vast multitude sink under their miseries ; for it is generally the case, as soon as one of the party fails, that his companions leavo him, without the least commiseration to his fate. These poor wretches arc, almost without exception, thrown out upon the village Goigothia, to be devoured by dogs, birds, Arc. 1 have several times passed over this piece of gronnd,aud tho skulls and bones exceed calculation. The fact of dogs, jackals and vultures living on human prey is familiar to ever inhabitant of Orissa. If the pilgrim lives to leave Juggernaut, he has a long journey before him, and his means of support are often almost, if not quite, exhausted. The work of death then becomes rapid, and the route of the pilgrims may be traced by the bones left by Uie jackals and vultures. Tho country near the tern pie seems suddenly to liavo been visited by pestilence and famine. Dead bodies are seen I in every direction. Dogs, jackals and vulI lures are seen watching the last moments of the dyinjj pilgrim, and not unfrequently hastening his fate. Such is known to oe the mortality among pilgrims, that a Hindoo of property ipakes his will before ho sets out on iiis journey, and takes a most affectionate farewell of his disconsolate relations. It is supposed that above 2,000 die annually on pilgrimage to different holy places. In the immediate precincts of the holy city in which Juggernaut resides, are to be seen crowds of devotees ; some remain all day with their heads on tlio ground and their feet in the air; others with their whole bodios covered with earth; come cramming their eyes with mud and their mouths with straw. One has his foot tied to his neck, or a pot of fira an his breast; another is enveloped in a net work of ropes. On the high festival day, when Juggernaut is dragged forth from his temple, and mounted 011 his lofty car in the presence of hundreds of thousands, who rend the air with shouts of "Victory to Juggernaut our Lord !" tho public services are commonccd by tho officiating high priest, who is stationed in front of the idol by loathsome pantomic exhibitions, and oy nitny, Diaspnemous songs. lint is is not until some poor victim of superstition c;ists himself under the wheels of his ponderous car, and is crushed to death, that this horrid king, as he is styled, is said to smile. The heathen are constantly in the practice of performing great self-tortures upon themselves. I will mention a few of these. Rome roll their bodies on the ground for hundreds of miles. The Rev. Mr. Haver gives an account of nu Indian devotee who speut more than nine years on a journey from Benares to Cape Comorin, that is from the 27th to the 7tn degree of north latitude. The whole journey is made by rolling on ^e bare ground from one side to the other, about three miles each day. His family accompanied him and ministered to his wants. Some throw themselves from a high wall, a second story of a house, often twenty or thirty feot in height, upon iron spikes, or knives stuck in a bag or in at trass of straw. Many in this way exo often cruelly mangled and lacerated. In some instances the ixsuo proves fatal. Sometimes bundles of thorns and other firewood are accumulated among which tho devotees roll themselves uncovered. The materials are next raised into a piie and set on fire. Then the devotees dance briskly over the embers, and fling them into the air with their naked hands, or toss them at one another. Some betake themselves to a vertical wheel, twenty or thirty foot in diameter, and raised considerably above the ground. They hind themselves to the outer rim in a sitting post life, so that when the wheel rolls round, their head pointa alternately to the zenith and the nadir. One other species of torture I must mention. The deluded votaries enter into a vow. With one hand they cover their under lips with a layer of wet earth or mud. On thin with the other hand they deposit some small grains, usually mustard-seed. Thoy then stretch themselves Hat on their backs, exposed to the dripping dews of night and the blazing sun by day. And their vow is, that from that fixed position they will not stir?will neither move, nor turn, or $at, nor drink?till the seed planted on their lips begin to sprout or germinate. This vegetable process usually takes place on the third or fourth day after which, being released from theW vow, they arise, as they doAtingly imagine and believe laden with a vast accession of holiness and super erogstory merit.?jMt WV* ?" , m I T 4, 1854. 611*qce f ehoqle Si'ess. Somebody lias said that a Parisian grisette, with a little tullo and ribbon, with conquer i the world, wb?l? an Englishwoman, will all her shawls, daiuusks and diamonds, look only like an animated cloth eshorse. There is some exaggeration in this statement, but more wit, and still more truth. The women of France unquestionably have n better taste in dress than tboso of Great Britain or America. In both our mother country and this, there is too inuch of what may bo called snobisni in female' attire. The ladies of Anglo Snxondoin seem to faucy that the more they spend the prettier they look. Accordingly one sees a littlo woman covered all over with lace, or buried in the middle of stiff brocado, or almost lost to sight under a puffing velvet cloak, with capes that extend on either side, like gigantic wings. Or one 1 beholds tall women, if such is the fashion, | tricked out in tight sleeves and striped silks, I the costliness of tho material being regarded by tho wearer as sufficient compensation for the incongruity of the styles. A French servant girl has lietter taste. She knows it is not so much the richness of the material as the way it is made up, and tho manner in which it is worn, that gives the desired elegance. A neat fit, a graceful bearing, and a proper harmony between the complexion and tne colours, has more to do with brightening female attractions than even American ladies seem particularly to comprehend. Many a wife looks prettier, if she would but know it, in her neat morning frock of calico, than in the incongruous pile of finery which she dignifies with the title of full dress. Many au unmarried female first wins the heart of her future husband in some simple, unpretending attire, which, if consulted about, she would pronounce too cheap except for ordinary wear, but which, by its accidental suitability to her figure, face and carriage, idolize her youth wonderfully. If the sex would study taste in dress more, and care less for expense, they would have no reason to regret it. At present the extravagance of American females is proverbial. We wish we could say as much of their eleganco iu the same liue. A Snow Arch.?The newspaper called the "State of Maine," published in Portland, says that one of the greatest curiosities ever witnessed at the White Mountains is now to be found at 'Tuckerman's Ravine,' about three miles from the Glen House. It consists of an arch of pure snow, spanning the brook that tumbles over the rocks from the summits of the mountains. The ravine is ..e ?n .1 o -. i i ? uiv J CVVJ'U^IC Ul ail U1U DHUW UlHl UlUWS from the top of Mount Washington, ami there can be no <loubt that during the winter it accumulates to the depth of scvcrnl hundred feet. As the brook l>egins to run in tho spring it wears its way through under the snow, which gradually melts away at the approach of summer, making tho cavity larger. On tho 16th of July this ravino was visited by several gentleman, one of them being an engineer, by whom the arch was measured. It was found to be 180 feet long. 84 wide, and 40 feet high, on the inside, and 2*26 feet long and 40 feet wide on tho outside. The snow forming tho arch is twenty feet thick, gentlemen walked through the arcn in the bed ot tho brook, and ate their dinner at the foot of the cataract, which falls a thousand feet down tho side of the mountains. The arch is on the south-east sitle of the mountain, and is exposed to tho rays of the sun during most of the day. Last year it remained until August 10 th, when a warm rain of several days' continuance melted it away. PftKVALKNCK Or BaMiNESS.?Bald 11 CSS seems to befall much youftgor men than it did thirty or forty years ago. A very observant hatter informed us, a short time since, that he imagined much of it was owing to the common use of wearing silk hats, which from their impermeability to the air, keep tho head at a much higher temperature than the old beaver structures which, ho also informed, us went out principally because lie had used up all tho beavers in the Hudson Bay Company's territories. Tho adoption of silk hats has however given them time, it seems, to replenish the breed. This fact affords singular instance of the influence of fashion upon the animals of a remote oontincnt. h would bo more singular still if the silk-hat theory of baldness has any truth in it, as it would then turn out that we were sacrificing ourown natural nap in order that the beaver may recover his. Without endorsing the speculative opinion of our hatter, we may, wo believe, state it as a well ascertained circumstance, that soldiers in helmetted regiments arc oflener bald that any othor of our heroic defenders.? Quarterly lievitte. Tub /Eronauts who went up at Hartford on the Fourth, say that, as they reached a great height over the river, the water becatno perfectly pellucid, and they could see any object in it, even to the bottom, as distinctly as they could look through clear water in a glass. What is the difference betweenTh$ro being onncience enough in all womlm.'nhd 1 man enough in all concien?.e ? * p <? <?<# .- " ?'& .. NO. 12. The Miller's Boy and his Bible. 41 "The entrance of thy Word givetli light.1' 1 returned, says a Sweedish colporteur, thro* a village where there nro several waterllllllfr. J\ lmO fi viii liiv ^ Ihere three year since by a miller's boy, who, not long before had fallen iuto4h? water and had narrowly escaped being crushed by a mill-wheel. Snatched wonderfully from John, this miUcf lad, had at the time begun to be concerned about the salvation of his soul. Hence tlio purchase which lie made of a 13il>!e. lie read that sacred book, and was fervent in prayers. The Lord heard his prayers and he became n staunch confessor of the truth as it is in Jesus. He was not long in becoming the object of .1-*tions from the miller, the millers wife, comrades, and jiersons who frequented the mill. All were determined to render it impossible for him to read the 13ible; but the Lord watched over him. Shortly afterward, Andrew, the miller's son, a young man of twenty years of age, a victim to habits of impiety and dissipation, became likewise a follower of the Saviour. This happened in the following manner: John was Andrew's assistant at the mill. Originally, they were the beet friends in the world ; but since John's converson, Andrew employed all sorts of suggestions, artifices, thrcatcuings, and even violence, to plunge his comrade into a disorderly life. All his efforts were ineffectual. One day, while John wr.a busy out of doors, Andrew, who was alone in the mill, took John's Bible for the purpose of castiucr it in into the river: however, iust as he was about to throw it in lie opened tho Bible mechanically, and this passage caught his eye : "Two shall be grinding ut the mill; the one shall be taken and the other left" ?Matt. 24 : 24. This declaration struck his conscience with the rapidity of lightning; it took possession of his heart; and under the weight of an inexpressible emotion, he placed the Bible again in John's chamber. Dating from this moment, Andrew became a new man ; thereafter he showed himself to be a sincere servant of Christ. United from that timo in heart and with one another, John and Andrew, young a3 they were, scon became, in the hands of God, instruments of religious awakening in the village and surrounding neighborhood. Support Your Local Paper. The local press is emphatically the representative and the exponent of the local interests, wants and wishes of each community, and on its energy and watchfuluess the community rely. Each community should first see that its local press is put upon a firm and substantial footing, which can only bo done by a steady and liberal patronage. If each member of a community would become a paying subscriber to the paper of ol ins own town ana county, six month* would not elapse before the enlargement and improvements winch would take placo in our papers would enable each person to dispenses with one or more Northern papers, without finding his facilities for intelligence in the least diminished. A people commit no greater error than that of permitting thoiijloeal press to languish by reason of an inadequate support. Never say your country paper is small and not worth taking ; give it the support to which it is entitled and it will be immediately enlarged and improved so as to meet the full expectations and wants of a community in which it is located. We lielicvc that publishers are generally liberal in responding to a liberal patronage by tlio improvement of tlieir papers, as appreciation of such liberal* ity. If a man is able to take but ono paper, i that should be tho one published nearest to . his place of residence, and the next should Iks the one published at tho commercial metropolis of liis own Htate. For local and State interests he will have rendered himself able to consult bis taste as to the paper be will lean upon for amusement or additional reading from abroad. ?Never Forget Your Mother. The e-'.or of the Lawrence Courier, ieferiug to the Death of the Hon. John Davis, remarks, that ho owed much to tho personal suggestion and advice of tho Kx-Oovernort;kindly and earnestly bestowed in earlier years and adds : "Tho last council we re ceived from lurn was characteristic ot trio man : it was on the deck of a vessel that lay with loosened sails and shortened cable, that we, still in boyhood, just commencing years-* in wandering and hardship, received a parting grasp of his pure hand with these words ?'God bleat you ! Remember what Iyvo raid; and wherever you go, never foroet vour mother !' What better charge could be given a lad launching forth on 'life's deceitful tide,' where the chart and compass of his young head and heart must bo his only fprotection from shipwreck. Many years lave passed away, and that good man has finished his voyage of* time; he has disap! peared adowu the daiK.<?*am of death, and we doubt not. has re.achrd-4hnl celestial heaven, where the. storms <4, earth are never known, and has exchangdPthe artchor sym hoi which he ever carried at the prow during . life, for blissful icali'ft'ion. * ? A