Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1852-1852, September 21, 1852, Image 1
VOLUME 3. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, SEPTKM1&1K 21, 1652. NUMBER 76. ^
THE CAMDEN JOURNAL.
jjf-. PUBLI31IKD SEMI-WEEKLY AND WEEKLY UY
THOMAS J. WARREN.
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From ihe Savannah Republican.
soNa
y . .. j matched in its fall a dew-drop bright,
^: v.; As it sought a place of rest,
* And found a home in the spotless white
Of a fair young Lily's breast.
A rain-drop too, in silence fell
From its glistening home above,
. And nestled 11; a rosy shell,
To melt in a tear of love;
.: I watched a ray of noon-day sun
V. Through a prison lattice beam,
^ Cheering the heart of a lonely one
^ 4 * '' VXri*U liAnn1. ineniriliff itronr))
TV JIU o jug^/nuijj
v'
- A moon-beam lent its gentle light,
? As it wandered through the vale,
To kindle the blush of a maiden bright,
/. Listening to Lome's fond tale.
'/-* I saw a .wave bound merrily
*. * On a green isle's silver strand;
It gave one kiss, and turned in glee
^ To dance with its sister band.
f Thou art to me my life's glad ray,
The dew-drop to my burning breast?
, The wavelet murm'ring soAest lay,
v.- To lull my weary soul to rest.
TALLUDA.
TOMORROW.
Tomorrow, my friend, may burst with light,
And draw the darkest veil aside;
>/>". The longest day must have a night,
V . - So dreamless thoughts must have a guideLaU
Tfie sunheams on the cheeks of llav,
;r Their beauteous tints from clouds must borrow:
j And that which wears a frown to-day.
^ Perhaps may wear a smile to-morrow :
. 'Trs well that hours of bliss should fade,
} And melt like snowflakes on a stream;
*Tis well the mind is born to wade
Throueh ills to test its fairest dream.
The source from whence our troubles flow?
From whence springs forth our deepest sorrow,
In one short hour with hopes may glow,
And burst in beaming smiles tomorrow.
SONNET.
7- I love to watch the first white glimmering star
Burst through the quietness of the eastern sky,
And see beneath old Ocean stretching far,
v7... That speechless poet of eternity:
j The ruddy west holding in floods oflight
j? The setting sun that all the evening fills
/ With golden islets, and then stooping bright
ICa>tsgreat calm glory on the purp'e hills;
Then sitting in sweet sadness, with full eyes,
Old joys and hopes and fears and griefs all blend.
I feel as one who, dreaming 'neath soft skies,
> Opes an old book, a drowsy hour to spend,
y . .And starts tosuddeh tears as he espies
i The old pencil ings of a long dead friend*
???????p??a?
BRC.\TFIELD.
& . A TALK OF TIIE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
Tho war carried on in Scotland, bv the friends
jr. ri. ??>
V and enemies of Queen Mary, after her departure
< into England, was productive of almost complete
dissolution of order, and laid the foundation of
; many feuds, which were kept up by private
families and individuals long after all political
| cause had ceased. Among the most remarkable
[ quarrels which history or tradition has recorded
L as arising out of that civil broil, I know of none
I so deeply cherished, or accompanied by so many
romantic and peculiar circumstances, as one which
took place between two old families of gentry in
the neighborhood ofEdinburg. Stephen Bruntk
field, Laird of Craighouse, had been a zealous and
disinterested partisan of the queen. Robert Mou
< bray, of Barn bougie, was the friend successively
j f of Murray and Morton, and distinguished him.
' self very highly in their cause. During the year
1572, when Edinburg Castle was maintained by
- . Kirkaldy of Grange in behalf of the queen, Stephen
Bruntfield held out Craighouse in the same
, " interest, and suffered a siege from a detachment
of the forces of the regent, commanded by the
Laird of Barnbougle. This latter baron, a man
of fierce and brutal nature, entered life as a youn?gcr
brother, and at an early period chose to cast
' his fate among the Protestant leaders, with a
" view to improving his fortunes. The death of
?! his elder brother in rebellion at Langside, enay
bled the Regent Murray to reward his services
^ by a grant of the patrimonial estate, of which lie
' did not scruple to take possession by the strong
- i 1 ' l-.l* i . ,i'"
hand, to the exclusion 01 ins imam niece, me
EY"- daughter of the late proprietor. Some incidents
Er ivhich occurred in the course of the war had inK
i i 11 MM i? IIIIIIIIBI ! ii_i maaJ?xiu*?awPMPMaBogis
spired a mutual hatred of the most it tense char- |
acter into the breasts of Bruntficld and Sloubray; ! so
and it was therefore witha feeling of personal ani- i TI
mosity, as well as of political rancor, that the lat- ' hii
tor undertook the task of watching the motions i of
of Ihuutfield at Craighouse. Bruntficld, after re;
* * - ? - M! 1 .1 ' ?
; holding out lor many momiis, was ouugeu, .-uong ue
! with his friends in Fdiuburg Castle, to yield t<>! an
! tho party of the regent. Like Kirkaldy, and th
j Maitlaml of Lethington, lie surrendered U]>on su.
j a promise of life and estates; but while his two ; sic
j friends perished,.one by the hand of the execu- im
j tioner, the other by his own hand, he fell a vie- esi
| lim to the sateless spite of his personal enemy, j TI
! who, in conducting him to Edinburg asta prisoner ; tli
' took fire at some bitter expression on the part of hi:
the captive, and smote him dead upon the spol. be
Lruntfield left a widow and three infant sons. | w!
The lady of Craighouse had been an intimate 1 th
of the unfortunate Mary from her early years; 1 he
> was educated with her in France, in the Catholic | m\
I faith; and had left her court to become the wife \ di;
of lii untfield. It was a time calculated to change ! in
| the natures of women, as well as of men. The j he
j severity with which her religion was treated in ; mi
i Scotland, the wrongs of her royal mistress, and, j of
finally, the sufferings and death of her husband, ! do
acting upon a mind naturally enthusiastic, all va
conspired to alter the character of Marie Canni j w.i
chad, and substituted for the rosy lines of her ear- bu
ly years, the gloom of the sepulchre and the pen- th
itcntiary. She continued, after the restoration in<
of peace, to reside in the house of her la c hus- an
band; but. though it was within two miles of the a
city, she did n.it for many years reappear in pub- kn
K" WlfV, crtn'iniv 1 hit flint nf lifr eliildren. en
and the persons necessarj7 to attend upon them, ?
she mourned in secret over past events, seldom or
stirring from a particular apartment, which, in du
accordance with a fashion by no means uncoin- lis.
mon, she had caused to be hung with black,and th<
which was solely illuminated by a lamp. In the ! wl
most rigorous observances of her iaith she was as- lie
sisted by a priest, whose occasional visits formed ! tin
almost the only intercourse which she maintain- th
ed with the external world. One strong passion an
gradually acquired a complete sway over her mind co
?Revenge; a passion which the practice of the in<
age had invested with a conventional respecta- de
biiity, and which no kind of religious feeling then wl
known was able either to check or soften. 80 sic
entirely was she absorbed by this fatal passion pli
- ' " -? -> 1 I .1- ,1
iict very cniiureu ;u iciigiu ccaacu iu date en
interest or merit in her eyes, except in so far as se<
they appeared likely to be the means of gratify- Uj
ing it. Oue after another, as they reached the pe
age of fourteen, she sent them to France, in or- in:
der to be educated; but tho accomplishment to ha
which they were enjoined to direct their princi- fet
pal attention, was that of martial exercises. The pi:
: eldest, Stephen, returned at eighteen, a strong in
j and active youth, with a mind of little polish or Lc
yiterary information, but considered a perfect tin
Bflljat afeword play. As his inolher suivcycd h
PRk noble form, a smile stole into the desert of her ri\
rain and widowed face, as a winter sunbeam wan- c<>
ders over a waste of snows. lJut it was a smile tir
of more than motherly pride; she was estimating B;
the power which that frame would have in eon- m<
tending with the murderous Moubrav. She was ha
not alone pleased with the handsome figure of br
her first born child; but she thought with a fiercer
and faster joy upon the appearance which it wl
would make in the single combat against tho wi
slaver of his father. Young Brunt field, who ha- tu
ting been from his earliest years trained to the dv
purpose now contemplated by his mother, rojoi- te<
ced in the prospect, now lost no time in prefer- on
ring before the king a charge of murder against ; an
the Laird of Barubouble, whom he at the same j ar
time ebn!lpii<roil. according to a custom then not I M
.-3 7 c* ------- ( I
altogether abrogated, to prove his iuuocence in j nc
single combat. The king having granted the j Ik
necessary license, and, to the surprise of all as- j th
scrubled, young liruntfield fell under the power- : d;
ful sword of his adversary. The intelligence ; wl
was communicated to his mother, at Craighuu-e, di
where she was found in her darkened chamber, i In
The priest who had been commissioned to break $h
the news, opened his discourse in a tone iuteii- gi
ded to prepare her for the worst; but slie cut him ar
short at the very beginning wit 1 a fantic excla- j A
mation: *'"I k now what you would tell; themtir- 1 ar
dor's sword has prevailed, and there are now but j sli
two instead of three to redress their father's pi
wrongs!" The melancholy incident, after the ! e.\
fir>t burst of feeling, seemed only to have coiiccn- j ei
trated and increased that passion by wich she tli
hail been engrossed for so many years. Sheap- a\
pea red to feel that tlie death of her eldest son di
only formed an addition to that debt which it in
was the object of her existence to see discharged. ,-e
"Roger" she said, "w ill have the death of his brother,
as well^is that of his father, to avenge. An- In
imated bv such a double object, his arm can hard- n<
ly fail to be successful." j at
Roger returned about two years after, a still j hi
: more handsome, more athletic,"and more acconi- j in
' plished youth than his brother. Instead of be- j tli
ing daunted by the fate of Stephen, lie burned I to
but the more eagerly toVipe out the injuries of j w
his house with the blood of Moubray. On his j h:
application for a license being presented to the 1 ta
court, it was objected by the crown lawyers that i to
the case had bean already closed by mal fortune '
of the former challenge. But while this was the t
subject of their deliberation, the applicant cruised
so much annoyance and fear in the court cir- J
cleby the threats which lie gave out against the j
enemy of his house, that the king, whose inabil
! ity to procure respect either for himself or for
the law is well known, thought it hest to decide
in favor of his claim. Uoger Brunttield, therc|
fore, w.>s permitted to fight in barras with Mou- a
j bray; but the same fortune attended liim .as
that which had already deprived the widow of <
i her lirst child. Slipping his foot in the midst
| of the combat, he reeled to the ground, embarrassed
by his cumbrous armor. Moubrav, ac- t
! cording to the barbarous practice of the age, imj
mediately sprang upon and despatched him.? t
i "Heaven's will be done," said the widow, when
| she hoard of the fatal incident; "but f/ratiax
I Deo! there still remains another chance." m
Henry Jlruntfield, the third and last surviving
11, had all along been the favorite of his mother,
lough apparently cast, in a softer mould than
s two older brothers, and bearing all the marks
a gentler and more amiable disposition, he in
ditv cherished the hope of avenging his fathers
nth more deeply in the recesses of his heart, !
d longed more ardently to accomplish that deed, ,
an any of his brothers. His mind, naturally
see]>tiLie of the softest and tcndero&t imprests,
had contracted the enthusiasm of his
other's wish in its strongest shape; as the fairl
garments are capable of the deepest stain.
ie intelligence which reached him in France,of
e death of his brothers, instead of bringing to
5 heart the alarm and horror which might .have
en expected, only braced him to the adventure
rich he now knew to be before him. From
is period, he forsook the elegant learning which
had heretofore delighted to cultivate. His
Jits were spent in poring over the memoirs of
'titijjuishcd knights?his days wore consumed
tin.-tilt-y ?r<l of Use sword-player. In du: time
entered t!?e I'lviH-n nriny, in or<lfr to add to
ire science that practical hardihood, the want
which Ik* conceived to he the cause of the
ath of his brothers. Though the sun of chiIrv
was now declining far in the Occident, it
ts not yet altogether set: Montmorency was
t just dead ; Bayard was st'll alive?Bayard,
e knight of all others who has merited the
jtto, sans pcur et suns reproclic. Of the lives
d actions of such men, Henry Bruntfield was
devout admirer and imitator. No young
ight kept a tinner seat ujion his horse?none |
mplained less of the severities of campaigning j
none cherished lady's love with a fonder, purer, I
more devout sensation. On tirst being intro- j
cod at the court of Henry III, he had signa- ;
ed, as a matter of course, Catherine Moubray, j
e disinherited niece of his father's murderer,
10 had been educated in a French convent by
r other relatives, and was now provided for in
e household of the queen. The connection of
is young lady with the tale of his own family,
d the circumstances of her being a sufferer iu
inmoii with himself by the wickedness* of one
dividual, would have been enough to create a
ep interest respecting her in his breast. Hut
ten, in addition to these circumstances, wc confer
that she was beautiful, was highly accomshed,
and in many other respects qualified to
gage his affections, we can scarcely be surpril
that that was the result of their acquaintance.
[>on one point alone did these two interesting
rsotis over think differently. Catherine, though
q.ired by her friends from infancy with entire
tied of* her cruel relative, contemplated, with
ir and aversion, the prospect of her lover being
teed against him in deadly combat, and did ail i
her power to dissuade him from his purpose.
>ve, however, was of little avail against the still
ore deeply rooted passions which had previousoccupied
his breast, jf'lowcrs tnrown upon a
or might have been as effectual in staying its
arse towards the cataract, as the gentle entrea:s
of Catherine Moitbray in witholdittg Henry
untfield from the enterprise for which his
other had reared him?for which his brothers
<1 died?for which he had all along moved and I
called.
At length, accomplished with all the skill
.licit could then be acquired in arms, glowing
iii all the earnest feelings of youth, Ilenry rcrued
to Scotland. On reaching his mother's
veiling, she daspd him, in a transport of varied j
ling, to her breast, and for a long time could
ily gaze upon his elegant person. "My last !
ni dearest," she tit length said, "and thou too, I
t to he adventured upon this perilous course !
w ' * < -i . i ! y. ;
uch have I bethought me01 mc purpose which
>w remains to be accomplished. 1 have not
en without a sense of dread lest I be only doing
at which is to sink my soul in flumes at the
iV of reckoning ; but yet there has been that
lii. ii comforts me also. Only yesternight, I
valued that your father appeared before me.
i his hand he held a bow and three goodly
afts?at a distance appeared the tierce and sanrinary
Moubray. lb-desired mc to shoot the
rows at that arch-traitor, and I gladly obeyed,
first and a second he caught in his hand, broke,
id trampled on with contempt. Hut the third
aft, which was the fairest and goodliest of all,
creed-his guilty bosom, and he immediately
pir-d. The revered shade at this gave me an
icon raging smile and withdrew. My Ilenry.
iuu art that third arrow, which is at length to
ail against the shoddcr of our blood ! The
ream seems a revelation, given especially that 1
iav have comfort in this enterprise, otherwise so
vohing to a mother's feelings."
Young lirunllield saw that his mother's wishes
id only imposed upon her reason; but he made
> attempt to break the charm by which she was
United, being glad, upon any terms, to obtain
r sanction lbr that adventure to which he was
ipellcd by feelings considerably different. lie
icrcforc began, in the most deliberate manner,
take, measures for bringing on the combat
ith Moubray. The same legal objections which
id stood against the second duel were mainined
against the third ; but public feeling was
>o favorable to the object to be easily withstood,
lie Laird of Barn bougie, though somewhat past
ic bloom of life, was <till a powerful and active
:iii. and instead of expressing any fear to meet
lis third niul inoro redoubled warrior, rather
nged for a combat, which promised, if sticeess1,
t<? make him one of the most renowned
rordsmeii of his time. lie hail also heard of
10 attachment which subsisted between Ihiint ld
and bis niece; and. in contemplation of an
lianeo which might give some force to the
aims of that lady upon his estate, found a
?epcr and more selfish reason for accepting the
inlh'iige of his youthful eneiny. King .lames
imsclf protested against stretching the law of
ic //'V due-Hum so far; but sensible that there
mild be no peace between cither the parties or
leir adlicn lit:, till it should be decided in a fair
mihnt, lie was fain t<>grant the required license.
The light was appointed to take place on Cra
loud Tncli, a low grassy island in the Firth of
Forth, near the Castle of Barnbougle. All the
preparations were made in the most approved
manner by the young Duke of Lenox, who had
been the friend of Bmutfield in France. On a
level rpaec, close to the islet, a space was marked
otf, and strongly secured by a periling. The
spectators, who were almost exclusively gentlemen,
(the rabble not being permitted to approach.)
sat upon a rising-ground beside the enclosure,
while the space towards the sea was quite clear.
At one end, surrounded by his friends, stood the
Laird of Barnbougle, a huge and ungainly figure,
whoso features displayed a mixture of ferocity
and hypocrisy, in the highest degree unjilcasing.
At the other, also attended by host of family
allies and friends stood the gallant Henry Brunt-;
field, who, if divested of his armour, ini_ht have
realized the idea of a winged Mercury. A scat
was erected close beside the barms for the Duke
of Lennox and other courtiers, who were to act
.as Judges; .and at a little distance upon the sea
lay a small decked vessel, with a single figure on
board.
After all the proper ceremonies which attended
this strange legal custom had been gone
through, the combatants advanced into the centre,
and, planting foot to foot, each with hisheavy
sword in his hand, .awaited the command which
should let them loose against each other, in a
combat which both knew would only be closed
with the death of the one or other. The word
being given, the fight commenced Moubray,
almost at the first pass, gave his adversary a cut
in the right limb, from which the blood was seen
to llow profusely. 1 >ut Bruntfiold was enabled,
by this mi.-hap, to perceive the trick upon which
his adversary chiefly depended, and by taking
care to avoid it, put Moubray nearly hors dc combat.
The tight then proceeded for a few minutes,
without either gaining the least advantage over
the other. Moubray was able to defend himself
pretty successfully from the. cuts and thrusts of
his antagonist, hut he could make no impression
in return. The question, then, became one of
time. It was evident that, if no lucky stroke
should take effect beforehand, lie who first became
fatigued with the exertion would be the victim.
Moubray felt his disadvantage as the elder and
bulkier man, and began to fight more desperately
and with lesseaution. One tremendous blow,
for which lie scorned to have gathered his last
strength, took effect upon Bitmtfield, and brought
him upon his knee, in a stupified state: but the
elder combatant had no strength to follow up
the effort, lie reeled towards his youthful and
sinking enemy, and stood for a few moments
over him, vainly endeavoring to raise his weapon
for another and final blow.?Ere he could accomplish
his wi>h, Bruutfield recovered sufficient
strength to draw his dagger, and thrust it up to
the hilt beneath the breastplate of his exausted
foe.
The murderer of his race instantly, lay.dead
beside him, and a shout of joy from the spectators
hailed him as the victor. At the same ini
slant, a scream of more than earthly note arose
from the vessel anchored near the island; a lady
descended from its >ide into a boat, and rowing
to the land, rushed up to the bloody scene, where
j site fell upon the neck of the conqueror, and
i pressed him with the iuo<t frantic eagerness to
| Iter bosom. The widow of Stephen Biuntfield
I at kngth found the yearnings of twenty years
fulfilled?she saw the murderer of her husband,
t he slaw-r of her two sons, dead on the sward be
! fore her, while there still survived to her as noble
a child as ever blessed a mother's arms. But
| the revulsion of feeling produced by the event
was too much for her strength ; or, rather, Pro vij
donee, in its righteous judgment, had resolved
| that so unholy a feeling as that of revenge should
not be signally gratified. She expired in the
anns of her son, murmuring, "iV??c dimittis,
Dominie" with her latest breath.
The remainder of the talc of Bruntfield may
brt Ciisily told. After a decent interval, the young
Laird of Craighouse married Catherine Moubray:
and as the king saw it right to restore that young
lady to a property originally forfeited for service
to his mother, the happiness of the parties might
be considered as complete. A long life of prosperity
and peace was granted to thorn by the
kindness of Heaven, and at their death they had
the satisfaction of enjoying that greatest of all
earthly blessings?the love and respect of a nu
mcrous and virtuous familv.
The tale of Bruutlield is founded upon facts.
Trying lo be Genteel.
I once hoarded in a 'Vented boarding house"
in Louisville; there were two ladies and a piano
in the -house?hall and pal lors handsomely furnishcd.
The eldest young lady, the belle, wore
a summer bonnet at ten dollars?a silk blond
concern that could not last more than three
mouths?silk and satin dresses at two, three and
four dollars per yard and five dollars a piece for
making them, and the entire family, women hoys
andbahics, slept in the room with two dirty bags
of pine shavings, two straw bolsters, and three
dirty ijnilts, for bedding, no slips; and there on
the wall hung the pea green and white satin,
the rich silk lawn dresses. These ladies did not
work, hut played on the piano, aeeordeon and
cards ; and nearly broke their hearts the week
wo were there, because another who I presume
lived just as they did, called 011 them, with a
great clumsy gold chain on her neck. None of
t hem had one, and Miss Lahliuds, the belle,
could eat no supper and had a fit of sulks, lo
console her for the want of a chain.
We fear this description would suit the latitude
of other places beside Louisville. The on
deavor to bo "genteel" is the curse of too many
1 Ml
<>f I ho inhabitants of our cities ana villages.?
Weak mothers will frequently do the most menial
officers, and deny themselves comforts absolutely
necessary to health, in order that selfish
daughters may dress abovo their means, and
spend their time in idleness and fashionable gossip.
The inducement to all this i>, that the
daughters, may make splendid matches; in oth
or words, marry young men with more money
than brains aand more credit than either. Iq
nine cases out of ten the effort fails, and' the girls
remain unmarried, thus increasing the number*. /vs
of those disconted old maids, who mistakingly >?'
think a single life possesses nothing honorable, -V'\
but who have only theinseves to blame for tlreir . |\$|
fate, since they dispised the honest men who , , ; jj
would have had them, in the vain hope to get "]i
others who scorned them in turn. .v-j^g
There is nothing more foolish, indeed, than
this trying to be "genteel." The word itself in -r - '
vulgar, and has no real meaning, at least in a ^
republican country. We have no gentility here " ^
as they have in England. Every man is on an
equality. The honest day laborer, who serves his
God, pays his debts, and docs bis duty to 0-_
hisvneiglibor, is as worthy of respect as the richest
citizen. A resectable operative, through . ^
poor, is far more estimable than either the fash- ionable
dandy, who lives by cheating his tailor,
or the extravagant merchant, who spends more
than bis income. In common parlance, "gen* '
teel people" more generally belong to the spend- *
thrift class than'the real wealthy } to the vain . /_ *S~gi
and empty fools, who live for show, than to the
intelligent, honorable and worthy. To endeavor yT'^i
to ape the rich, by an extravagant expenditure "I 'M
of narrow means, is what most weak, persons do,-. ' /. v.
who wish to be considered "genteel" .It is our ^
deliberate opinion that no young woman can Jive '
this life of pretty hypocrisy, this constant struggle
to seem to he what she is not, without losinS V
that strict regard for truth which is one of the -. ;
brightest ornaments of a female's character.?
Better, far better, be frank and honest, Pover- &
tv is nothing to be ashamed of, while deceit and
extravagance are. it we were a young man, we ?
would avoid all families in which we detected .
this effort to be "genteelfor we should be sure T
we would run great danger of marrying an ex- ,
travagant aud foolish wife, if nothing wdrse. - '
Ilow to Detect Counterfeits.?1. Examine
the appearance of a bill?the genuine have - ^
a general dark neat appearance.
2. Examine the vignette, or picture in the '
middle of the top; see if the sky or background
looks clear aud transparent, or soft and even, and
not scratchy.
3. Examine well the face; see if the erpres- \ ^
sions are distinct and easy, natural and life-like. \
Particularly the eyes.
4. See if the drapery or dress fits well, looks
nufnunl unci nocr cV?r\nrc tV?n rliof in/?f Itt
5. Examine the medallion, ruliug and' heads, *. J&.
and circular ornaments around the figures, <fcc. ' r.
See if they are regular, smooth, and uniform; - ,r
not scratchy. This work in the genuine looks t,
as if raised on the paper, and cannot be perfectly ^ imitated.
0. Examine the principal line of letters or
name of the bank. See if they are all upright,
perfectly true and - even-; sloping, of .. . " ?
form slope.
7. Carefully examine the shade or parallel ;
ruling on the face or outside of the letters, <fcc.;
see if it is clear, and looks as if colored with a
brush. The tine and parallel lines in the genuine
are of equal size, smooth and even; coun- ^
terfeits look as if done with a file,
8. Observe the round handwriting engraved - / ^
on the bill, which should be blaj^^eqaal in size ' V
and distance, of a uniform siopeatfrl smooth.-?
This is in genuine notes invariably well done, '
and looks very perfect. In counterfeits it is sel
dom so, but often looks stm, as u done with a i
pen.
9. Notice the imprint or engraver's name,
whfrh is always near the border or end of the*
tiote, and is always alike; letters small, upright
and engraved very perfectly. Counterfeiters seldom
do it well.
Note.?It was remarked by Stephen Burroughs
before he died, that two things could
not be perfectly counterfeited, one was the dye
work, or portrait, medallion heads, vignette, Ac.,
and the other the shading or ruling above the
letters.?Bank Note Reporter.
The Bible.?We have never seen a more
truthful remark upon " the Book of all books1'?
than the following:
"The Bible," says Rowe, "is dangerous.? "* <
But dangerous for whom ? It is dangerous for
infidelity, which it confounds; dangerous for our
sins, wliich it curses; dangerous for Satan, whom
it dethrones; dangerous to false religions, which
it unmasks; dangerous to every church which
dares conceal it from the people, and whbsecnmi_
_i r :?1 : , i:?l* >i
uai iinposiurt's uiiauw uiuaiuub it unugo iv u^uv.
" Sure 'tis our highest end, Eternal life to gain:
"Search." then, "the Scriptures," they alone the
words of life contain."
An Editor in the Blues.?The editor of the
Saratoga Republican?a Pierce and King sheet?
pours forth his lamentations in the following indignant
strains:
Printing Establishment for Sale.?having
made precisely money enough at the printing business,
the subscriber is satisfied to give up and retire
to the poor house. Under these circumstances,
lie is induced to offer the Saratoga Republican
for sale. The paper has a circulation
of about 1000?one fourth of which may be
called paying, and the other three-founhs nonpaying
patrons. The office has a good variety o'
job type and a fair run of work of thisdescrip
tion, provided the work is done at the reduce<
New York prices, and the printer will take "cat
and dogs" tor pay. This village is one of th
prettiest places in the world for a newspaper pub
lislier. Every body will find fault, do the best
you can, and the Editor who pleases himself will
stand but a slim chance of pleasing any body
else. The subscription list and good will of the
office will be thrown in if the purchaser will take
the type, presses, and materials for what they are
worth, and pay for them, so that there will be no
nf flifl rk^acanf a* 1\a*nm ?1,11
\ji niv uriu^ uuiigod
to take tlie establishment back and return to
the business. * J. A. Core*-.
Saratoga Springs July 21, 1852.
. ' -i .