?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.