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?lic Camfecn Journal. w VOLUME 11. CAMPEX, SOUTH-CAROLINA, MARCH 21, 1H3Q. ~ , NUMBER 2.3, poetical department. MAIDEN TEARS. Her home was but a cottage hoine ; A simple heme, ami small; Yet sweetness and affection made L It seem a fairy hall: A little taste, a litt.'e care, Made humble things appear As though they were transplanted there From some^uperiorsphere! Iler home was but a cottage home, A simple home and small, Yet sweetness and affection made It seem a fairy ha.I. As sweet the home, so swoct the maid, Ao ?*! *?oofnl Qti/1 tic o-nml ! She seemed a lily in the shade, A violet in the bud; She had no wealth, but maiden worth? A wealth that's little fame; Yet that's the truest gold on earth? The other's but a name! Her home was but a cottage home, An humble home, and small, ^ Yet sweetness and affection made It stem a fairy hall. A cheerfulness of soul, that threw A smile o'er every task, A willingness, that ever few To serve ere one could ask. A something we could wish our own! An humble flow'ret born, To grace in its de .ree a throne, Or any rank adorn! I Knnm w?e Kilt *a rntto(TO linmp. ilV/tll^ II ?C UUI U VV??w^V *avi?>vj A simple home, and small, Yet sweetness and affection made I- seem a fairy hall! [N. O. Picayune. 1 tEljc ?lio. I THE POLISHED BOOTS, OK, TJIK RICH BRUSSELS CARI'KT. A Thrilling Eleven Hundred and Twenty-four Dollar Prize Tale. "Go il Boots"?Milton. See 'em! See those new boots standing as a summer's cloud upon the rich Brussels carpet. Black as the night of doom, they sit quietly upon the rich Brussels carpet. Ten thousand tempestuous clouds, made up of lampblack, midnight and little niggers, could not rival in darkness those new calf-skin boots, sitting quietly upon the new Brussels carpet. How still they are! Like a black Berkshire pig, on some summer's day, half-buried in mud, unstirred by the gentle gale, sit the boots ujion the carpet. Look mrnin! The sun, just sinking in the west, like a huge Orange county che.'se. The splendifcrously golden curtains are enrolling around his evening couch. The plough-hoy is preparing to turn out his team, and the milk-maid, as a Peri vith anew bonnet, is about to milk the gentle cows. How l>eautiful! The rich, the golden sunshine, feersin at the raised window, and bathes in a flood of light the room with the rich Brussels carpet. How it lingers on the new calf-skin boots, sitting so still. Not a sound is heard, yet how the boots shine in the golden sunshine! They glitter like a warrior's buckler, all scoured up! Like jx negro's heel in a dark night, appear the hoots, in the golden sunshine, upon the rich Brussels carpet, at the close of day. The boots were paid for! That day they had been purchased, What ecstaey! The first new pair of calf-shin hoots! Is there a free born American citizen whose heart does not throb at the mention of such things ? Poirit him out, and let him be branded as some j misanthropic wretch who entered upon the stage of life with nothing but coarse cowhide "stogies" to hide his homely feet Yet every rose has its thorn. Every pleasure has its pain. Every stick of candy has its eud. We remember well that as we looked iMAn tliAeu natir # tf_aL- ?i Knufe Imtlnwl in ft I U|M/ti baivcv IIVIT vtui'onui I/VWW7, v??v*? ? | flood of golden sunshine, and sitting quietly upon the rieh Brussels carpet, just at the decline cf day, we thought that some ill-fated off' spring of a cow had been slain in cold blood? his sleek, glossy skin cut from his quivering - fled-, and plunged into tan-bark and liine? while the bereaved mother was mourning for the calf that should bleat no more, or caper around with his hind legs and tail in the air. Calves must die! Whether upon two legs or four, we solemn S ly reiterate tJie truth, that calves must die! As I we thought ol these things, a tear came into I our eye. We brushed it away and turned boldI ly to the future, as we look ui>on the new boots, sitting quietly upon the rich Brussels carpet! Mrs. Partington on the. Pacific Railroad.? Thirty thousaud dollars worth of Specific Railroad stock taken! Well, I wonder what kind of stock they are going to use to expel the railroad, as it flies on its course as if 011 the minions of a pledged singsters over t!:e great desert iTUUJiiry wiiM II uiHiMMS ui viiai i imiiK-u.>u cannons, great taverns, big ha i and other characteristics of a galvanic legend, whether j they arc horses, oxen, or mules. I do believe I that the spangled notions of steam injuns and I volcanic batters isn't to despair with the old I ways o( movin' through the world, specially in I sinners movin' down that broad road to destrac* B. tion; where, as the parson said last Sunday, I there was whiping and whaling and knocking out teeth ? ? Too Poor to do without if.?A lady in Maine recently sent her pay for another year's subscription to the Portland Christian Mirror, adding at the close of her letter, that she was "infinitely too poor to do without it." There are soine things that we can easily dispense with, but newspapers are now classed among the necessaries. Where is there an intelligent man 1 who would not rather lose one meal a day than j go without his newspaper? " Can't afford to take the paper"?you can't afford to do without it. " Hav'nt time to read a paper," then you hav'nt time to sleep or breathe. It is a duty a man owes to society to be informed of the news of the day and the improvements of the age?and he cannot be thus informed without he reads at least one good paper. Gold in Mexico.?A company of miners from Missouri was working a gold mine twenty-eight miles from Santa Fe with great success. The Padunah Journal has hoisted the flag of Henry Clay for Preside"'t, and Win. II. Seward for Vice President, in 185*2. 'Sambo, wliar you get dat watch you wear to meetin' las Sunday! ' IIow you know 1 hah watch?' ' Bekase I seed the chain hung out the pocket in front. 'Gp 'way nigger!' spose you see halter 'round my neck; you link dnr is hoss inside ob me.' Schoolmaster.?"Robert compare the ad jective add." Robert. ?Positive, cold; comparative, cough; superlative, coffin. " On what meat did Dido feed ?" " Dido it dux, according to Virgil." Communication. Fur the Camden Journal. Lancasterville, March 1G, 1850. Messrs. Editors: At your request, I send you oi.fii.ln (ni- iiniir iniiruul' -inrl iuaemiioti a<f VOll uia ?* l ix, tv <vi jvui Jw",,,w' 9 J have left ine to select my own subject, I have chosen " Temperance," and will only premise that it is one of vast importance, not only fronf the ends it has in view, but from the innovations it proposes. The temperance reformation involves a restriction upon the free gratilication of some of those appetites and desires implanted in man by nature ?a great moral reformation, and a change in the habits of the people. The ends it has in view, are to absolve man from intemperance; to rid society of its greatest curse?drunkenness, and its consequent evils; and to develope all the cardinal virtues that adorn a good and pure man. To do this, it proposes as a mean the hitherto unheardol expedient of total abstinence. These are questions of grave importance; and if you will loan me a column, we will discuss at least ono of them. It is not to be deuied that total abstinence is a restriction upon the use of a beverage heretofore classed among the choicest blessings of a kind Providence, and that it does in some sort interfere with the free and unrestrained enjoyment of that great Americanism?liberty. Hut before we do as others have done, receive this as an objection of paramount importance, let us reflect that we live iit a state or condition where each one must yield some portion of his natural liberty for the general good, and that all the advantages and benefits which we are now deriving from society and government, are the returns we have fur the natural liberty we have so surrendered; and let us also inquire if the wants of society do not require uh to forego the use of all intoxicating drinks, that good ordei may bo maintained within her borders, and her people be made sober, industrious, and happy. Men are social beings, and liefore one individual can arrogate to himself the privilege of enjoying fully and without any restraint, his primeval natural liberty, he must cut himself loose from all connection with his lellow-man, and becoming as one oi the wild beasts ol the lorest, live debarred ot all the benefits of civilization. These are all selfevident truths, the bare statement of which is sufficient for my purpose, without argument or illustration. We may stab' it, then, as a principle growing out of necessity, that it is the duty ol man to surrender to society, for the general as well as his individual good, as much of his natural liberty as may be required to secure good order and "the peace, safety, and happiness of the people." From which we may deduce this proposition: that if we can show the use of intoxicating drinks hy the people at large, is an evil calculated to he prejudicial to the welfare of society, socially, morally, or politically, hy destroying the benefits it should confer, or retarding it in the development and culture of morality and religion, or otherwise, it is the duty of man entirely to abandon their use. The affirmative of this proposition, I think, can be established. Is the use of intoxicating liquors an evil of that magnitude it is represented! I am well aware that there are some persons who stigmatize total al> stinence as ultra ism, fanaticism, Arc., and say that moderate drinking is temperance, and that there is no evil in taking a drink. As abstract projiositions I am prepared to admit tlte.se two last to be true ; but I am far from doing so when received in connection with tho results that moderate drinking leads to, and do not hesitate to say that temperance does not consist in the moderate use of alco-' liolic drinks, and that that use is an evil. Would any sane man say that lie was temperate who was in the habit of drinking small doses of arsenic or other poisonous drug ! How, then, -can the use of alcohol be called temperance, when it not only poisons the body, but the very heart of man ? No! Temperate drinking consists in the use of those beverages that are healthful and useful, and a total abstinence from those which may and do tend to destroy. But see what moderate drinking leads to?drunkenness. I ask you, read* er, if you differ with me, to look at the past history of your system of temperance and its results.? Drunkenness has followed as a consequence. Drunkards, from the occasional and fashionable debauchee to the not more degraded wretch of the gutter, made so by the tastes which moderate drinking loaned them, have disgraced themselves, ruined their families, and have become pecuniary grievances, as well as pests to society; while on the other hand, total abstinence makes and keeps men sober and happy. If 1 hat be temperance and *1-1? A?Am rv*r\r\vr% ito Mrl U1IS oatc aiic uum ivut i/^* u..u give me fanaticism as tlie rule by which I am to live. I have not exaggerated. Moderate drinking leads to all I have, attributed to it. True, some persons may resist the appetite it creates; (and perhaps you are one of this small class, reader:) but all cannot. Then why?if you you are "a good man and true"?will you contribute to continue as a custom that which is ruining?so utterly, so everlastingly ruining?thousands of your fellow men? But further: if the moderate use of Intoxicating drinks leads to drunkenness, what is itself? Will you ask us to receive the cause as a rule of action, but condemn the effect. ? Can the parent of such a progeny be belter than it6 off| spring? No. Moderate drinking is the parent of J n.. .1 10 i* 7? Tint ui u i jtvcllllur'c, (11iu io iiccu iiiiuiiij'liuiivv. av ??vk the use of intoxicating drinks an evil ? But is the evil of such magnitude that the interests of society require that its members should renounce the natural right they hare to drink whatever be re. rage they please 1 Intemperance is an evil more widely diffused than any other. It reaches and destroys all classes and conditions of mankind. There is not a pursuit, trade, calling, or profession, where its direful effects may not be traced. If we go into the palaces of the rich, we find it ha* been there, and we mark the mortification and grief it lias left. If we go into the humble dwellings of the poor, it has been there, and grief, poverty, misery, and squalid wretchedness mtirk its footsteps. Co we into the business walks of life ? We find it there. And to it we can trace ninetenths of the bankruptcies, cheating*, fraud, perjuries, and other crimes, that almost daily disgust us with the world. There is not a Church in our land that can boast that all of her ministers have maintained the sacred lawn pure from the stains of intemperance. There is not a State in the Union that can boast that no one of her judges has ever sull.e.l her eriniue in the intoxicating bowl. There is not an election held in the length and breadth of our land where intemperance may not be found busily at work, corrupting the freemen of America, There is not a legislative assembly in which nny not be found many a member who unworthy of a seat there, has purchased one with alcohol. These are not all the evils of inteiupefmwii TPIimv nr?* en ill v trim ! nn/1 n suilicieut to convince any unbiassed judgment that the world is groaning under the cum;, nnd that the welfare of society requires that the cause should be removed. Moderate drinking is the cause. Reader, will you, for youf own sake, for your neighbors' and friends' sake, for your "God's and truth's sake," yield the natural right you have to do as you please in this particular, and fall into the ranks of the cold water host 1 I am, as friend Garinauy dubbed ine, THE RECRUIT. Sclcctci) talc. A SCE.\U O.V Tin; OHIO. THE SOLITARY GRAVE. HY UBV. J. *r?>l)l). Hcn'-Itlli yon tree where rtdlx tin: flood? OhioV gentle wave? There Htjuidn the Hone, Mill ninrk'd.hy blood, And there the MrangcrVc grave. it rained in torrents, and J took shelter under the branches <?1 a huge hemlock, which stood near the hank of the river. Seated upon a decaying log, 1 was in a fair way to rest, and even to sleep, for not a drop of rain could penetrate the covering of the giant tree whose arms were spread over me. Just then the hunter's dog came bounding towards me, with a cheerful look and wag of the tail, which seemed to say, " you are just what I was looking for." He opened his deep mouth, and a single bay brought his master to my side. His hard, weather-beaten, jet kind countenance, lighted up, as he gave me his sinewy hand; but the ? -1 .1 i :.. .. Mime aim uiu 11l jkissuu au in hi a munii-m, as the heat lightning of .slimmer u ill flash across the whole face of the cloud and he gone in an instant. 1 had never seen him so moody before, and tor a long time sat silently watching him, to .^ee if the clouds which I saw were those which precede, or those whinh follow the storm. In a short time the paddles and the machinery of a steamboat were heard,and in a few moments more she was in sight?a vast floating ark, moving with amazing rapidity and grandeur. The shower had driven the passengers under cover, and though she was crowded with human beings, yet scarcely one was to be seen. 1 gazed upon it as I vTould upon a moving thing in a beautiful diorama?they were all strangers to me. It is astonishing to notice how hitler, ently we look at a moving steainhoat full of entire strangers, from what we do if we know it contains one being wliotn we know and love! The boat moved on, as heedless of the hunter, I his dog and myself, as we. could possibly be of J her. Wo had not spoken a word since she ! came in sight; but just as she rounded a point above, and was going out of sight, the old wan broke out? " Ay, ay, she can double the point safely enough now, and go puffing on as proud as a boy with a new rifle; but I have seen the day when she would not dare go so near that point, or if she did, she would soon be glad to be off, at any rate. She's a grand creature though, and goes like a hound." " What are you thinking of, friend Rogers? What day are you thinking ofj when that point was so dangerous ? The trees and the banks look to mc as if there had been no great alteration since your day." " No, no, the banks and the trees stand just as they did. I said nothing about them ; but you Yankees are always for skinning the bear before you have caught him, and this you call drawing inferences." " Well, well, I own I was on the wrong scent for Uiis once, but clo tell me the story, for I cannot but <lni(D the inference that you have some story connected with that bend of the river." At once the face of the old man became sad and melancholy. He was silent again, and I began to repent that I had pressed him. He leaned upon his well-tried rifle, and I thought I Could see his keen eyo moisten. " Did you notice that I felt bad when I came and found you here ?" " Yes, I noticed that you were silent, but did not know it was because you found me here, trying to keep dry under tins hemlock." " On the wrong ecent again! But look this way. Do you see that grave down in that liti. .11 hi. 4- u ii? lit1 I1U11UW, YV1UI U blUHU ill lUS UL'ilU i " I do, indeed, and wonder I had not seen it before." " It's easy to see things when they are shown to ns. I have pointed out many a deer to a young hunter when he was just going to see it, and wondered why he had not. Bat that grave, and that point, and my story are all connected. The story, however, i6 short, and now that we are here, I must think it all over again, and I may as well think aloud and let yon hear it " It was many, many years ago, long before such a thing as a steamboat was heard of, or even dreamed of, that the event happened. 1 was young then, strong and full of life and hope; no one seeing me then, would have thought that I should ever become this withered old man." "As straight as a rifle, and as strong as h buffalo, and with an eye and an ear as keen as an eagle's," said I. " Yes, I can yet split a ball on the point of a knife at two hundred yards, but this will not be long. My hand sometimes trembles. But don't you talk if you want my story." " Go on, and I will not interrupt you again." " Well, it is now nearly forty years since I ft ret c *i \i/ <!ll> f rlfiri i uic flliin I cKtfiutiwI ivlirm I first saw it; i.havc luved ft ever since, and when 1 die, I hope I shall he buried on its hanks. On a certain day I engaged to go down the river to Kentucky, with Captaiu Ward, as he was removing his family from the East 17ie joarney was long, and at best would be tedious. 1 went as a kind of pilot, for 1 wss well acquainted with the river, and all points of danger.? The country was then full of Indians, and no settlement of any note had been made in Ohio. Tin* uliiti-s iiI tlu? Jmii-inii Inn r-initinn. ally making war upon each other; I do not know \\ ho was to blame. The whites killed the most, and the Indians were most cruel. We purchased an old, crasr.y, square-built boat, In.*tween forty and lifly feet long, and about eight or ten wide. We contrived to spike on a single pine plank on each gunnel, hik! this was tiie only tiling we had to defend us. We had a heavy load, furniture, baggage, homes, pigs, fowls and ploughs, besides ueaily a dozen jieople. 'Ihese consisted of the captain, his wife, and their young children, a widowed si.-ter and her son, besides several men to manage the boat. *v lieu we left, we were fearful lest the Indians should attack us from the shore, but we knew that by keeping in the middle of the river, we should be beyond the reach of their rifles, or could be in a few moments. Thus we passed on for several days, till we supposed we were beyond the haunts of the Indians. One day, just at sunset, after we had become tired with rowing, we let our boat drift lazily and carelessly along the current. \S e were just getting ready to put up for the night. The mother was promising the cluhlreft a good run on the shore. The widowwas getting out the provisions, and making ar rungemeiits for our supper. The captain ami his nephew hail hold of the oars, and moved them oul v just enough to allow 111c to steer the boat. "Rogers/ said the Captain, suppose wo put in this side of that point, and tie our boat to one of these big trees and there encamp lor the night.' " It's a right good place, captain, and I like it. Resides, 1 thought a few moments ago, 1 heard wild tuikevs just over the hill, and I should like to have one for supper.' ";So we put in towards the shore, anil had got within about iifty yards of that point around which the steamboat had just passed, when I heard a stiek crack as if it had been broken by the foot. "A deer,' said the captain. "No, no,' [ shouted, 'row, row for life, or we are dead.' "At that instant, down rushed scores of Indians to the shore, with a shout that made the bills across the river echo it back again. The murderous creatures rushed down to the water's j edge, ami presented their guns, and opened a , heavy lire upon us. In an instant the young j man snatched his rille, anil raising up his lull length, fired at the nearest Indian who had a shaggy head-dress. The Indian tell, and so did the young man at the same time. As he fell his oar dropped overheard, and the rowing ot tin* captain brought tho- boat round and still nearer. 'Hie Indians veiled, tin* women scream ed, the horses were falling and plunging, and bullets were flying thick around us. Yet above it all, the voice of Captain Ward rose clear and cool,?'Rogers, take my oar.' I took it, and he at the same time seized a piece of Plank, and rowed to such a purpose, that in a few minutes we were out in the river, beyond the reach of their rifles. We knew they had no canoes, being 011 a hunting excursion, and that we were then safe. But oh! what a sight! the horses were all dead or dying, one child badly wounded, the boat half filled with water, and the young man in his blood, in the bottom of the boat. By this time the coolness of the captain was all gone. He lay down by the side of his nc-phew, whom he loved as his own son, and exclaimed,'0 John! John! 0 Lord, have mercy, have mercy! I have brooght the dear hoy to his death!" But the widowed mother! She was pale as a sheet; but she l-~- LS~ I J 1 ? - * -- lyumc IAJ net suit, JUWU ins lll'ilU 111 llCr lap, &TICI' opened his bosom, where the blood was coming out still. He was yet alive. " John,' said she, in a sweet voice, as if speaking to a babe, 'John, do you know me V " My motherV said he in a whisper. " Can you swallow John ?' said she, putting her hand over, and dipping up some water from river. lie tried, but could nob "My son, do you know you are dying V " Yes, mother, but are 'you' hurt V " No, no; but don't think of me now. Can you pray with the heart now, my dear son?' "He looked up a moment, and gasping, said, 'God be merciful to me a sinner for the sake of "Of Jesus Christ,' said the mother, for lid was gone. She bent over him a few moments oa if in eilrtnl nriitrnt lr!?/./?d hi- 1! 1 i nt t^tju puji;i, uicn niaiscu ins lips, UUU for tlie iirst time, tears filled her eyes. Till that moment you would have thought she had been talking to a little child just going to sleep?her voice was so calm and so mild. She was a wid' otr, ami this was her only child, and a nobler fellow was he. Hut she was a religious woman. ! never saw religion like that before nor since. It was all?God has done it, ami lie cannot do tcrons* " Wo lay off in the river till dark, and then silently caine to the shore on this side for the night. We dared not to light a candle, lest the Indians should see it We milWeH nur milv pnw and fed the children, and got them to sleep.? We then brought the body of the young man up to the bank, and when the moon rose up, we dug that grave which \ou sec yonder. We had to be careful not to make a noise ,nor even to weep aloud. But after we had opened the grave and were ready to put the corpse in it, thj widowed mother spoke. "Is there no one here that can oiler a prayer as we bury my only child V There was no answer. We could all sob, but we had never prayed for ourselves, She then knelt down, the widow, and laying her hands on the bosom of her boy, she, in a subdued voice uttered such h prayer ?3 few ever made! She was calm as the bright waters at our feet. And when she came to pray for all of us?for the poor Indians who had murdered her hoy?when she gave thanks to God, that he had so long comforted her heard with her son, and wheh she gave than as that God had given her'such' a son to give back to him?it was awful?we could not sob aloud! You, preachers talk about sublimity but if this was not it, I do not know what is. Well, there we buried him, and there lie sleeps yet In the morning I got up at daylight, and came up here to place that stone at the head of the grave. It was bloody, for his head had rested upon it. I found the mother was here before me?perhaps she had been here all night/ She was trying to do the vorv thing, and so, without saving a single word, I took hold and helped her put the stone at the head of the grave. It is now nearly sunk in the ground; but it stands just ai wc placed it. When we had done, tho widow tamed and said'Rogers,'hut the tears came, and I was thanked enough. 1 have sat on this very log many times, and thought over the whole scene, and though the mother has been in the grave many years, yet I can see her even now, just as she looked when she turned to thank me, and 1 can hear voice just as it sounded when she spoke to her dying boy. I have never seen such religion since." " Well, Rogers, though you have never'seen' such religion since, because you have never seen such a call upon a Christion since, may I not liopeyou have'felt' something like it?" " 1 am an olil sinner, ami have a hard heart;" and the tears ran down his cheeks. We conversed a long time, and it was good to do so. As wo rose up and cast a last look upon the grave, and upon the spot where the In-1 j I IK I " Rogers, would you like a picture of this story {'' " 1 have iti sir, on nivheart, and need another' and vet, perhaps my children could understand it belter if they had one. Hut the story don't need a picture." " Mo, nor would the picture need the story." Christian Keepsake. Louisville, Friday, Match 8.?-News has just been received at St. Louis from Santa Fe to tho tJlUh of January, ('oh James S. Calhoun, tho Indian Agent, lately effected a treaty with the Utah*, l>nt a tew days afterwards these savages murdered a number of Mexicans, and stole a large amount of stock, l'orty American bum tors, returning to Santa Fe, had had a severe light with the Apaches, in which many of the latter were slain. The Cheyennesulso had become hostile, and fears wore entertained that they would be even troublesome to emigrants in the spi ing of the year. The weather at Santa Fe was \ ery cold. There u as great excitement about the Slate and Territorial question, ('apt. St, V rain's eomnativ of traders was to leave San t;l 1'V t'ur ItulvpoiuLvc on lii?* lOlii at' Lvbruaiy.