^ <
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