THE CAMDEN JOURNAL VOLUME 3. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, MARCH 26, 1852. NUMBER 25. THE CAMDEN JOURNAL ' r published semi-weekly and weekly uy thbihas i. mmm. TERMS. The Semi-Weekly Journal is published at Three Dollars and Fifty Cent3, If paid in advance, pr Four Dollars if payment is delayed three months. Tns Weekly Journal is published at Two Dollars If paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if pay- r ment be delayed three months, and Three Dollars if not ( paid till the expiration ol the year. , ADVERTISEMENTS will be inserted at the follow- * ing terms: For one Square (fourteen lines or less) in the ^ semi-weekly, one dollar for the first, and twenty-five t cents for each subsequent insertion. In the weekly, I seventy-five cents pier square for the first, and thirty-se- ' j Ven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Sin-1 gle insertions one dollar. Semi-monthly, monthlj* and | f quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a sin- l gle insertion. c fWThe number of insertions desired, and the edh J tion to be published in must be noted on the margin of , all advertisements, or they will be published semi-week- , ly until ordered discontiucd and charged accordingly ^????E HAPPINESS. 1 Know thou this truth, (enough for man to know) "Virtue alone is happiness below." ^ The only point where human bliss stands still, j And tastes the good without the fall to ill; Where only merit constant pay receives, h IS OlfSl in wuai 11 ias.cs, auu wuai n gi?ca , The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain, c And ifit lose, attended with no pain : e Without satiety, tho' e'er so blest, v And but more relish'd as the more distress'd : The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears, Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears: Good from each object, from each place acquir'd, For e^er exercis'd, yet never tir'd; r Never elated, while one man's oppress'd ; a Never dejected, while another'6 blest; p And where no wants no wishes can remain, o Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain. r [Pope's Essay on Man. a 1; DEATH OF AN INFANT. s Death found strange beauty on that cherub brow ^ And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose , On cheek and lip?he touched the veins with ice, P And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes There spake a wistful tenderness?a doubt ^ Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence Alone can wear?with ruthful haste he bound a The silken fringes of their curtaining lids ri Forever. There had been a murmuring sound U W.L 1 ' -V iL. 1.1 I J -1 :* il 1 f, w un wuicn uie oaoe wuuiu unarm us muuier s can " Charming her even to tears?the spoiler set a His seal of silence. But there beamed a smile s] So fixed and holy from that marble brow, j1 Death gazed and left it there?he dared not steal ( The signet ring of Heaven. ^ * n From MotherwelTs Poems. ^ WOMAN. Perchance, far out at sea, thou may's have found w Some lean, bald cliff?a lonely patch ofground, t< Alien amidst the wafers?some poor isle p Where summer blooms were never known to smile, tc Or trees to yield their verdure?yet around That barren spot the dimpling surges throng, M Cheering it with their low and plaintive song, c; And clasping the deserted cast away In a most strict embrace?and all along Its margin rendering freely its array Of treasured shell and coral. Thus we may js Note love in faithful woman : oft among n The rudest shocks of life's wide sea she shares f< Man's lot, and more than half the burden bears, n Around whose path are flowers strewn by hei tl tender cares. u ? d THE BRIDAL EYE. tl *Twa3 on one of those beautiful evenings in h May, when all nature is clad in her richest M , robes, and each blossom yields its odours to the ^ passing breeze, that I perceived the inhabitants " of the little village of L. to be in a complete a flutter: Beaux and belles were seen tripping p along the streets, rigged out in all their finery; 'r and the playful smile which illuminated the n countenance of each passing nymph, told there was somewhat of unusual occurrence about to take place. Reader, be not surprised when I tell you it was nothing more or less than a wedding. I had been a few days in the village, and had formed an acquaintance with some of the chief inhabitants, among whom was Mr. Bcvil, one ot the principal dandies of the pla\;e, and who at this moment came running up, and seizing my hand and hitting me a hearty tap on the shoulder, in the exuberance o( good friendship exclaimed, " Mr. Warring you are going to the o wedding of this beautiful creature? To which si I replied in the negative, and inquired who it ti was, for I had not yet heard; "who is it?" s< replies he in evident surprise," why, none else, m to be sure, than the lovely Miss Eliza Stanmore, a for whom more men have run mad, than for any e other since the Trojan War?But come, you ti must go, the good old Mr. Stanmore will be " proud of your company," and at the same time n interlocking his arm in mine, hurried me along p towards a stately mansion in the eastern part v of the town. g In our walk, I learned from him that Eliza n had for a long time reigned pre-eminent as the 6 belle of the country as well as of the village, b and had, as is usually the case, been solicited t in marriage by many of the most respectable d and eminent men of the place, yet, (strange to c ?1-?- \_n -c ...i 1 i i r relate,/ iv on ui wiiuiu suu unu yiveu wic mwi unqualified refusal. The fact of the case was v this?in extreme youth, she had formed an at- t< tachment for a young man against her father's b will, from whom she was torn hy her unfeeling n parent. Yet, although she was constrained to ii drop the idea of marrying him (at least,) for o 1 he present, the primal attachment of her heart, emained firm and unshaken. Young Edmund, or that was the name of her lover, had joined he army, hoping that he might signalize himsell )y some act, or in some way become accepta)le In the eyes of her avaricious father. So ong as Eliza received any information con jerning him his fortune was still precarious, ret was not the ardor of his passion in the east abated, or his hopes in ought extinguished, therefore Eliza remained callous to the adIresses of her man}* admirers, and deaf to the sarnest entreaties of her father. But now three rears had rolled round since she had received my intelligence from him, and it was a curent report through the neighborhood that he lad fell at the battle of ; his own sister >ersuaded Eliza such must have been his fate. U lnet this unfortunate girl, overcome by the iontinual solicitations of her friends, yielded at ast, to satisfy the desires of her parent, and vas now going to be married to a rich landlolder of the first connexions, though at the 'ame time, she declared her heart was with her infortunate Edmund. This little interesting history made mesomevhat anxious to see this beautiful, young and infortunate lady?I therefore yielded to the mpulse of the dandy's arm, and entered the lomicile of Mr. Stanmore. A large company lad convened in the expectation of the apiroaching ceremony-the eyes of all resting in the bride and bridegroom who were seated in a sofa, in the audience hall. I was struck vith the enchanting appearance of the unforunate Eliza, as soon as I ca*t my eyes on her, he impression I then felt, even at this late day emains bright in my memory. She appeared o be about in her sixteenth year, she was ar ayed in the finest coBtume, but the natural j egularity and symmetry of her countenance nd the charming lustre of her snowy neck iartially covered with floating ringlets ol hair f the finest chesnut brown, were sufficient to ender her " too charming," without the frail ssistance of dress. All that is beautiful, love- y and fascinating was there; indeed I may 1 ay it, without exaggeration, I never beheld, . efore nor since, so interesting a being. From J le dejected cast of her countenance, and Ianuid eye, it was easily perceived that her feellgs partook not of the gay festivities, mirth nd glee that regaled the happy inmates of the ouse. i A few moments elapsed after I had gained seat, when the priest announced that all was 1 ;ady. A slight paleness flashed over the coun- j >tiance of tho unfortunate Eliza and a cold ( epidation shook her gentle frame; yet with , r much composure as the case would admit of ! I be approached the threshhold, where her des- < ny was to be confirmed forever. Never can 1 forget the feelings that pervaded my breast t that dread moment.?Worlds would I have ' tcrificed, could I have produced the unfortu- , ate Edmund. The ceremony was about com- J tencing, when a considerable tumult was crea- ( >d at the door. Mr. Staumore called to know i 'hat was the matter?a waiter entered and >ld him a stranger was contending with the |! orter for admittance, swearing he would speak : j i Hio nronf Isaniiin f\C tVta lutncn tk?if incfont Let liim enter," observed .Mr. Stanmore. The , Miter retired, and in a few moments returned, | onducting in a middle aged man of ordinary i ze and appearance ; his garb was sufficient ' > tell he was a minstrel. " What is thy husi- 1 ess friend," observed Mr. Stanmore. '* that i ' ou are so importuna.e 1" " The I oon I ask j i small," replied the stranger, with becoming lodesty, " and Heaven itself, will bless thee j )r granting if." " Name it," replies Mr. Stan- i lore, somewhat impatiently.?" It is," replies < ie stranger, " that I ma}* play an epithalami- 1 m previous to the solemnization of your aughter's marriage; I pray you deny me not lis small request," You shall, undoubtedly, ave liberty," said Mr. Stanmore, ' and we , ill thank thee for thy performance, good sir," ( l tiumphant Jinile played upon the lips of the linstrel ?he nodded a respectful obeisance, nd rivetting his eye3 on the bride, sung (acompanying his voice with his harp,) the follow- 1 lg pathetic verses, in the most plaintive maner: 1. "O know you not, my lady bright, Who now the bridal wreaths are wearing, An absent youth a gallant knight, Of high renown and noble bearing. 2 " Where is that youth? Oh! lady fair, For thee he breath'd his dying pray'r; His achirig head was on my breast; My blessings bear to her, he said, Whisper'd thy name then sunk to rest, Too true to tuee, thou laithless maid. From the commencement of this song, I had bserved a sudden paleness, as of death, to eizc the unfortunate Eliza, and an immense embling to agitate her whole frame; but carce hud the minstrel concluded the last line, /hen uttering a faint scream, she swooned, nd would have fell, had not she been supportd by ihe bridegroom. " What is the matter, iy love ?" exclaimed he most affectionately ; speak, I beseech you but she returned him o answer. Her countenance assumed the asect of a maniac, her eyes rolling in Irighful /ildness?at last by a wonderful effort, she athered a degree of composure, and in the ! lost plaintive manner, thus addressed the ruin- ' trel:?"No, good minstrel, 1 have not yet ' reathed the nuptial vow, nor will I?I am yet ] rue and faithful to the object of my first pre- ] ilection." Then turning to her father, she i ries?" O my father, do not, you cannot force 1 a.. ?l.:u .u n rom luy uuiuuuuaic uiiiu, an uam tu riuaven, ' yhich, though thy cruelty might force my lip o utter, my heart never could sanction." The ridegroom and her father raved in all the agoy of despair, crying, " she is deranged, she j a maniac." Fox a while sho sunk in a state , f stupidity?again her features recovered their wonted animation and seeming to obtain a momentary gleam of sensibility, again she spoke.'*-" Be assured good minstrel," she cried, "the vow I gave to my only beloved is yet unbroken " and believe not/' she said, again addressing her father, " that I am raving, for you will fiud it true enough I have given my last farewell to earth." Her cheeks, which UnrJ fnn rt mrtmnnf Kaon eli fTnaorJ K\? n .... uau iisi a iiiuiuciib isccu omiuotu ijj a iieiuc (U bicundity, now became ashy pale?her eyes grew dim, and it was easily seen that death was fast approaching. One deep convulsion rent her soul; she fell upon her father, and casting one filial glance, sunk in the bosom of rest. " 0 my God !" exclaims the unfortunate father, my daughter dies?she is dead?one look my dear child; yet awake, I will not claim thy unwilling vow." But his heart became lenient too late?she heard him not. The minstrel cast a pitying glance upon the lifeless corpse of Eliza, and finding it was true enough she was dead, a supernatural smile glanced across his countenance and exclaiming, ' by Heavens, a noble soul," immediately disappeared through the crowd. Itwas Edmund. ONSLO. Wonderful Catacombs. One of the foreign correspondents of the National Intelligencer, gives the following description of the regions of the dead beneath a convent in Palermo: Chief amone- the wonders of Palermo are the Catacombs of the Capuchin Convent, near the Porta d'Ossuna. It is said to be a place of great antiquity: many of the bodies have been preserved in it for centuries, and still retain much of their original freshness. I had heard ot these catacombs in Paris, and my visit to Palermo was induced chiefly by the extraordinary account given of them. Entering the ancient and ruinous court of the Convent, distant about a mile from the city, we were conducted by a ghostly-looking monk through some dark passages to the subterranean apartments of the dead. It was not my first visit to a place of this kind, but I must confess the sight was rather startling. It was like a revel of the dead?a horrible, grinning, ghastly exhibition of skeleton forms, sightless eyes, and shining teeth, jaws distended, and bony hands outstretched, heads without bodies, and bodies without heads? the young, the old, the brave, the once beautiful and gay, all mingled in the ghastly throng. We walked through long subterranean passages, lined with the dead on both sides : with a stealthy and measured tread we 6tepped, for they seemed to stare at the intrusion, and their skeleton fingers vibrated as if yearning to grasp the living in their embrace. Long rows of upright niches are cut into the walls on each side, in every niche a skeleton form stands erect as in life, habited in a robe of black; the face, hands, and feet naked, withered, and ot an ashy hue, the grizzled beards still hanging in tufts from the jaws, and in the recent cases the hair still clinging to the skull, hut mattaA o../1 dru Tfv eneh eornsn is attached a Inhel ! lCU ?J. # - " upon which is written thp name and the date ot' jecease, and a cross or the image of the Saviour. Soon recovering from the shock of the first impression, I was struck with the wonderful variety ot atul marked expression ot character in the faces and forms around me. There were progressive dates of death, extending from remote centuries up to the present period, the niches being so arranged as to admit of a regular order of deposite. Many of the bodies stood erect, as if just lifted from the death-bed, the faces colorless, and the horrible agonies of dissolution stamped upon I he features; the lower jaws hanging upon the Uieast; the teeth grinning and glistening between the parched lips, and the black hue of sickness about the mouth and around the sunken sockets of the eyes; and in some the sightless orbs were open and staring with a wild glare of affright, as if peering into the awful mysteries of the unknown bourn from whence none return; while others wore a grotesque laugh of derision still more appalling, with the muscles of the mouth drawn up, the e\ebrows lifted, the head jilted know ingly on cne si ! -. the hair matted in horny tufts, the "bare spots on the skulls, like the piebald w ig of a harlequin; the skeleton arms streched, and the bony fingers spread as if to clutch the relentless destroys, and w restle with him to the last. These I fancied were lively fellows, who were carried off suddenly after a midnight carouse. Isatdown on a box containing a dead child, and looked up at a row ofbodies opposite that attracted my notice in a particular degtee. Jn the middle stood a frolicking fel ow, about two years dead, whose sunken eyes appeared still to burn with the fire of life and humor. His hands were lifted in a deprecating manner over a congregation of corpsps sitting on a shelf below*. Some appeared to be listening; some grinning at his humorous harangue ; others, with their heads together, seem to question the propriety ot his anecdotes; old gen tlemen, with knitted brows and lantern jaws; ranges of bodies stood on each side of him as if laughing, talking, praying, dying, suffering, listening, rejoicing, and feasting at the banquet of death. One little man, in a dingy suit of black, sat :n a corner; the end of his nose was eaten off by the worms; his mouth was compressed, and had a pinched expression ; his hands grasped eagerly at something. I thought that little man was a miser, whose death was caused by starvation. Another figure, a large portly body, stood in a conspicuous part of the vault; it was the corpse of a fat old bishop, whose jaws were still rotund and Btnooth with good living, and his sleek hair patted down to his head as with the oil of by gone roast beefs and macaroni soups, and jolly cast of countenance, betokened a system liberally supplied with the juices of life, and a conscience rendered easy by attentio i to the creature comforts. That man lived an easy life, and died of good feeding. He was carefully labelled, and carried on his ?r? Lwl TKnrn ctnrwl iii anntlipr >VIIdU> tt JCWPIICU CI UOC. AIJ1.1V uivvu ... MIIVVM ? ( art of the vault a fiery orator, with open mouth ami distended arms. The head was thrown back, the breast partially bare, a few tufts ol black hair fell from his piebald skull; his round staring ayes were stretched open, and his brows arched high on his wrinkled forehead; he looked toward heaven for inspiration. I fancied I could hear the flaming torrent, as it blazed and crackled andscintilated from his thin ashy lips. It was the glowing eloquence of an ardent sottl that left its parting impress upon the clay ; the lorm yet spoke, but the sound was not there. Passing on from vault to vault, we saw here and there a dead baby ttirown upon a shelf? its little innocent faccsleeping calmly among the mouldering skulls; a leg or irrr, nr ai. nM oknll. from which the lower I jaw had'fallen; now a lively corpse, jumping with ( a startling throe from its niche, or a grim skeleton in its dark comer chuckling at the ravages of the destroyer. Who was the prince here? Who was the great math or the proud man, or the rich man ? The fliusty, grinning, ghastly skeleton in the corner seemed to chuckle at the ihought, and say to himself, 'Was it you, thereon the right, you ugly, noseless, sightless, disgusting thing ?? Was it you that rode in your fine carriage about a year ago, and thought yourself so grpat whpn you ordered your coachman to drive over the beggar if he did not get out of the way? Don't you see he is as handsome as you are now, and as great a man; you can't cut him down now, old fellow. And you, there on the left. What a nice figure you are with your fleshless shanks and your tunrrrufiafon line I It nmo unil tViot hatrovo/l cmith nuu.rv.11,.1 >in.o,uu,?a.vru,.j>uru.? and beauty and innocence, and brought yourself here at last to keep company with such fellows as I am. Why, there is not a living thing now, save the maggots, that would'nt turn away in disgust from you. And you, sir, on the (opposite side, how proud you were when I last saw you; an officer of state, a great inan in power, who could crush all below you, and make the happy wife a widowed mourner, and bring her little babes to starvation; it was you that had innocent men seized and cast in prison. What can you do now ? The meanest wretch that mocks you in this vault of death is as good as you, as strong, as great, as tall, as broad, as pretty a piece of mortality, and a great deal nearer heaven. Oh, you are a nice set of fellows, all mixing together without ceremony! Where are your rules ol etiquette; your fashionable ranks, and your plebeian ranks; your thousands of admiring friends, your throngs of jewelled visiters? Ha! ha! This is a jolly place, alter all; we are all a jolly set of republicans, and old Death is our President!' Turning away from this strange exhibition of death's doings, I followed the old monk into the vaults allotted to the women. Here the spectacle was still more shocking and impressive. The bodies were not placed in an upright position iike those of the men, but weie laid out at full length in glass cases, the walls on both sides being covered. The young, the gay, the beautiful, were all here, laid lowly in the relentless embrace of death. aecKea cmu iu siiKeri nresses, i