DARLINGTON C. H., S. THURSDAY MORNING APRIL 15, 1852.
[NORWOOD \ DE LORME, PI BL1SIIERS
NO. 7.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION !
Tn advance, (per annum,) • • - jt- 00
At the expiration of six months - 2 50
At the end of the year ..... 3 00
ADVERTISING
Advertisements, inserted atlS cents a
square (fourteen lines or less,) for the first,
aud 37} cts. for each subsequent insertion, citizens, destroved because lie dared to
Business Cards, not exceeding ten lines, gpeHk fri , e , y h j g thonphu of t h e8e do-
should, hesitate to draw the sword in
such a strife. You daily and hourly
feel the exactions, and witness the mur
ders and cruelties of your masters.—
Thousands of your friends and rela
tives lie rotting in the common prisons.
' denied the most common nttetitions and
necessaries, and left to perish under
innumerable privations. Thousands
have perished in torture; and over the
gateway of your city, but now as I en
tered, hanging in chains, the bleaching
bones of old Hermann, one of our best
nserted at •5, a year.
MISGELlt AN EOU S.
Ll POLL
The Columbians, generally, will long
remember La Pola. With the history
of their struggle for freedom, her story
is deeply associated, and the tragical
destiny which followed her love of
country, is linked with all the interest
of the most romantic adventure. Her
spirit seemed made of the finest mate
rials, while her patriotism and courage,
to the last, furnish a model winch it
would have been well for her country,
had it been more generally adopted
and followed by its sons.
Donna Apolinaria Zalabriata, better
known as La Pola, was a young lady
of good family in Bogota, distinguish
ed not less by her personal accomplish
ments than her rich and attractive
beauty. She was but a child when
Bolivar commenced his struggles with
the ostensible object of freeing his coun
try from the trammels of its oppress- scarcely
mgs, attest the uncompromising and
bloody tyranny under which you must
momentarily look for a like fate. If
you be men—if you have hearts or
hopes—if you have affections to lose
and live for—you Eurcly will not hesi
tate as to the choice—the only choice
which a treeman, one worthy and de
sirous of the name—should be allowed
to make.”
The Lilierator pause*), as much thro’
exhaustion, as from a desire to enable
his heaters to reply. But, with this
latter object, his pause seemed made
entirely in vain. The faces of all
around him were blank and speechless.
They were generally quiet, well mean
ing citizens, unaccustomed to any en
terprises save those of trade, and they
were slow to risk the wealth which
many of them possessed in abundance,
to the certain confiscation which would
follow any overt exhibition against the
existing authorities. While in this
state of hopeless and speechless inde
cision, the emotions of the chief were
controllable. His whole
must eventually triumph. Still the sue- betray his employer. She was arrest-
cesses were various. 'Hie Spaniards i ed in the midst of an assembled throng,
had too strong a foothold, easily to be to whom her voice and guitar were im-
driven from their possessions, and the parting a mingled melody of most at-
conflict, as we know, was for a long tractive romance. She was nothing
time of the most indecisive and vari- alarmed at this event, but was hurried
ors. Her father, a gentleman of con
siderable acquirements as well as
wealth, warmly seconded the design of
the Lilieratbr, though from circumstan
ces compelled to forbear any active
agency, himself, in their promotion.—
He was a republican of considerable
resources and sleepless perseverance
and without taking up arms himself,
he probably contributed quite as much
to the success of the experiment of
liberty as those who did. In this he
was warmly seconded by his daughter,
who, with that ingenuity of contri
vance, commonly ascribed to her sex.
frame trembled with the excitement of
his spirit. He (raced their ranks hur
riedly—now pausing with this and that
personage—ap|»ealing to them singly
as he had done collectively, and sug
gesting a thousand arguments of weight
for thc«fTecting of his purposes. He
became impatient at length, and again
addressed them:
“ Men of Bogota, you are not wor
thy to be free if you can hesitate lon
ger. Your chains and insecurity will
have been merited, and be assured,
when they become necessary to the
wants of your enemy, your present ac-
was, (rerhaps, the most valuable auxil- quiescence to his power will not avail
iary that Boliva had in ftogota. h»r ihe protection of your lives or pro-
Shc was but fourteen years of age, perty. They are both at his mercy,
when accident gave her the first glance •"id he will not pause as you have done
of the man afterwards the president of »n make use of them. To save them
her country. At this time, with but from him^you must risk them for your-
few resources, and fewer friends and
coadjutors, Bolivar occasioned littfe
distrust, and. perhaps, commanded as
little attention. Still, he was known,
and generally recognized ns an enemy
to the existing authorities. Prudence
was necessarv therulbr, and it was at ,
midnight and during a severe thunder
storm, that he entered the city, and
made his wav, by arrangement, into
the inner apartment of Zalabriata.—
A meeting of the conspirators—for
such they were—had been contempla
ted on this occasion, and many of them
were in attendance. The circumstan-
ces could not be altogether concealed
from the family, and La Pola, who had
heard something of Bolivar, which had
excited her curiosity, contrived to be
present; though partially concealed by
her habit, and by a recess situation
which she .had chosen. The Libera
tor explained his projects to the assem- ,
bl v. He was something more than el
oquent—he w’as impassioned; and the
warmth of a southern sun seemed burn-
bur in his words and upon his lips.—
La Pola heard him with ill concealed
admiration. Not so her countrymen.
Accustomed to usurpation and over-
slow to adventure
ous character. What the Columbians
wanted, however, in the material for
carrying on a protracted warfare, was
more than made up in the patriotism,
the talent, and the vigilance oi their
leaders generally; and however de
layed may have been the event which
they desired and had in view, its cer
tainty of attainment seems never for
a moment to have been questioned, ex
cept by those who vainly continued to
keep up an ineffectual and hopeless
conflict against them.
For two years, that the war had
been carried on, no material change
had l>een effected in the position of the
comliatents. The Spaniards still main
tained their grpund in most respects,
except where the Columbians had been
unanimous in their rising; but the re
sources were hourly undergoing dimi
nution, and the great lessening of the
productions of the country incident to
its unsettled condition, had subtracted
largely from the inducements held out,
individually, to their officers, for the
further prosecution of the war. In the
meantime the patriots were invigorated
with hope in due proportion with ttie
depression of their op|>onent6; and the
increase of nurnliers, not to Apk of
the adden skill and capacity of their
arms, following their long and contin
uous warfare, not a little contributed
to their further encouragement. But
how, in all this time, had La Pola re-
deemed her pledge to the Liberator?
It may be sup(»osed that a promise of
the girl of fifteen was not of sqch a
nature as to warrant a reasonable hope
or prospect of its fulfillment. It cer
tainly was not regarded by Bolivar
himself as anything more than the has
ty utterance of her emotion, under par
ticular excitement, having no other ob
ject, if it had any, than to provoke, by
a sense of shame and self-rebuke, the
unpatriotic inactivity of her country
men. The girl herself did not think
so, however. From that moment she
became a woman—a strong-minded,
highly (tersevering, and most attrac
tive woman. All her soul was bent to
the achievement of some plan of co-
0|H*ration with the republican chief,
and circumstances largely contributed
to the desire entertained. She resided
in Bogota—the hold of the royalist
liefore a military court—martial law
then prevailing in the capital—with a
rapidity corresponding with the sup
posed enormity of the offence. Her
lover—a noble youth, named (Jomero
though perfectly innocent of anv con
nection with her acts on this occasion,
was tried along with her and both con
demned—for, at this time, condemna
tion and trial were words of synony
mous import—to be shot. Zamano,
the viceroy, desirous of more victims,
and hoping to discover her accomplices,
granted them a respite of twelve hours
before execution, sparing no effort in
all this time to bring about a confess
ion. The friar sent to confess her,
threatened her, if she ventured upon
any concealment from him, with eter-
nal punishment hereafter; while pro
mises of pardon and reward assailed
both herself and her betrothed, in the
hope of effecting the same object—but
all equally in vain. She resolutely de
nied having any other accomplice than
THE LIFE OF AN EDITOR. . VALLE OF RElDIMi AND WfelTIM.
A eotemporary remarks that but few nian, who cannot read, what is
employments are so unfavorable to his sense of hearing worth ? The corn-
careful reading, mature reflection, munications of husincss, the gossip of
and elegant composiffbn, ns those the household, the clink of guineas, and
editor, especially an editor ot (lie whit I of spindles he can hear; but
1 his fact, even to the high ami highest voices which
of an
a daily paper,
where understood, is but randy ac.
knowledge*! by the reader. The pub
lic has no mercy for the shortcomings
of an editor. IL is expected to be
w ise, yet witty; learned, yet eloquent;
profound, yet brilliant. He must be
accurate, yet never delay his judgment.
If a hill is laid liefore Congress, he is
looked to for an o|Mnion before the tel
egraph lias finished reporting the pro
visions. If a railroad is projected, he
must immediately point out its advan
tages, its cost, and its demerits. If a
revolution breaks out abroad, he is
questioned ns to its probable conse
quences, and condemned, in the end,
if lie has not foreseen every contin-
(■ml has fashioned tn edify him and nil
men, he is deaf. The man who can
not write lieyond some little tempory
ejrcle, he is dumb. While he who ckii
read has an ear-trumpet that conveys
to him the uttered thought of the re
motest past and distance, he who can
write has a speaking trumpet that car
ries his messages over all the continents,
and through the loudest storms of the
ever noisy sea of time. This is true
indeed of all ages in which the art of
writing, lias been practised; hut of no
age is it so widely true as of ours.—
W Idle the eighteenth century antiqua
ries were collecting their ancient reli-
ques and the like, a Scottish ploughhoy,
gency. When he is rigid, he scarcely j with the fiery and susceptive heart of
receives credit; when he is wrong, he a n old minstrel in him, was driving his
is censured without end. The pulpit team afield. Had the lot of Roheit
orator prepares his sermon in the quiet |5 ur „ 8 |*e n cast in an niireadiiig ami
of his closet. He may refer to his li- j mi writing age, the dumb ploughhoy
lirary for a doubtful fact, and revise might have died a dumb ploughman:
his composition in after hours. Even Ids melody might have fallen like rain
the lawyer has usually the respite of a ^ upon the dry grouml, refreshing it, hut
night, in which to collect his thoughts
But the
the messenger she bad employed, and
prayed a release from the persecution "hich to collect Ids thoughts disappearing forever. But Robert had
of all further inquiries. Perceiving arrange Ids aiguments. But the |>een taught both to read and write, and
that (Jomero, her intended husband, niust speak on the moment.-— n hook or two lay in Ids pocket ns he
was about to speak, and probably eon- cannot stop either, to loitilj his drove his team afield : so instead of an
- - ‘ - memory, or digest his opinions, or to
polish Ids style. He flings off Ids
sheets of manuscript ns the news romes
in or the clamors of the compositor
increase, and like a thorough bred in a
des|»erate race, be is under whip and
spur from the starting point to the gaol.
But this is not the whole. The edi
tor must write not merely before he has
maturely reflected, but often when an
guish or sorrow prevent his reflecting
fess, through a very natural dread of
the death he saw so near—she seized
Ids arm impressively, and fixing her
dark eyes reproachfully upon him, she
exclaimed—
“Gomoro, did I love you for this?—
Beware, lest I hate and curse you as 1
die. M hat! is life so dear to you that
you would dishonor us both to live?—
Is there no consolation in the thought
that we shall die together?”
“ But we shall both be saved!” re
joined her lover.
“It is false! the tyrant Zamano
spares none; our lives are forfeited,
and all that you could say would he
unavailing to avert either your fate or
mine. He only desires new victims,
and will not release his grasp upon
those in his doom. If you have ever
loved me, Gomero, speak no more af
ter this fashion. Show yourself wor
thy of the choice which I have made,
in the manner of your death.”
The lover persevered in silence, and
they were led forth to execution. The
friars retired from the hapless pair, and
anonymous minstrel, like one of the
entile on a thousand hills, he became
a song writer for Britain ami the world.
William Shakspare’s father, it is pretty
certain, could not write; luckily there
was a free grammar school in Stratford;
ami now we have Shakespeare's works.
Were it only for the sake of few Shaks-
(K-aresaid the few Brindleys, let schools
everywhere Ik* built, ami the sounds of
young instruction blend everywhere
at all. His hones may be racked with with those of labor, which rise without
cold, his head may throb with pain, ceasing, up to the cope of heaven,
his tongue may be parched with fever, | ^ ,
ho may l»e unnerved by excessive la- t , ,
Imr, yet be must write, write, write.- ,,K 1 ATB 0F * L "Man
He Is, as it were, chained to a wheel “ A " ard CA «- ,he . r * 18 B f‘ un ;
, * • i r n„ a f> ° d ot sixty, who graduated at
that whirls and whirls forever. He . ,, . . f , j
.1 -r • i the University ot Dublin, Ire and, at
must leave the wife ot Ins bosom on a . , • . . ’ , .
the age of twenty-two was admitted as
a surgeon in the British army, and in
that capacity visited this country with
selves. To suppose that his mercies in Bogota—the bold of the ^ royalist the firing party made ready. Then,
w ill keep them for vour benefit is to forces, under the control of Zamano. for the first time, did the spirit of this
think madly. There is no security a military despot, who, in process of noble woman shrink impulsively from
against power, but in power; and to time, in that country, acquired by his the approach of death,
check the innovating terrors of the cruelties, a parallel notoriety with some “ Butcher!” she exclaimed, to the
of the foulest governors of the R*>- viceroy, w ho stood in his balcony,
iiuiii dependencies. Her family was overlooking the scene of execution—
one, vnu must exhibit, at the threshold,
the strong armed vengeance of lire
be too late. To morrow, unless I am
lietrayed to-night”—looking with a sar
castic smile around him as he spoke—
“ I shall unfurl the banner of the repub
lic, and if there be no other name ar
rayed in arms against the oppressor,
the more glory to that of Bolivar.”
While the chief spoke, the emotions
of the youthful La Pola could not be
concealed. The color came to, and
went from, her cheeks—the tears start
ed to her eyes—she rose hurriedly from
her seat which she unconsciously again
resumed, and, as the Liberator conclu
ded his address, rushed across the nar-
row space which separated her from
her father, and seizing him hy the hand,
with an action the most passionate, yet
the most dignified and graceful, she
led him to the spot where Bolivar still
held his position; then for the first
time giving utterance to her lip*, she
throw; they were slow to adventure i exclaimed inquiringly:
life and property upon the predictions “ He must not stand alone, my fa-
of one, who, as'yet, bad given so few ther. Tou have a " n< J "I
M -r rrnmp give it—you will not withhold it from
your country—and I, too—l will do
other. A dav—an hour—and it may wealthy, and though favoring bolivar s “ butcher—you have then the heart to
assurances of success for the game
•which ho had in hand. They hesita-
■ ted, they scrupled, and opposed to his
animated exhortations a thousand sug
gestions of prudence—a thousand cal
culations of fear. 'Hie Liberator
grew warmer and more vehement. He
denounced in broad language the push
ilanimity, which os much as the tyran-
ay under which they groaned, was the
curse of lira country.
"Am I to go alone?” he exclaimed,
passionately—“ am I to breast the ene
my singly—will none of you come for
ward and join with me in procuring
the liberation of our people? I J»sk
vou not, my countrymen, to any griev
ous risk—to any rash adventure.—
There is little peril, be assured, in the
strife before ua. We are more than a
match, united among ourselves and
with determined, spirits, for twice -ay
thrice the power which they can bring
Anto the field. But even were this not
the case—werp it that the ehunces
k were all decidedly against us, I cannot
atill, how you can, or why you
what I can, if”—and her eye sunk lie-
fore that of the chief as she spoke—
while her voice trembled with a tone
of modest doubt, the most winning and
expressive—“ if you will let me.”
The eloquence of the woman did
more than all that had been uttered by
way of reason or patriotic impulse and
exhortation from the lips of the chief.
The men, touched with a sense of
shame, at once came forward, and en
tered into the required pledges. There
was no more hesitation—no new scru
ple—and the Liberator, pressing the
hand of the bright-eyed girl to his lips,
called her a spirit worthy of her coun
try, and such as if pAasessed generally
by its sons, could not fail, in a short
time, most effectually to recover
liberties.
In another day and the standard of
the republic waa raiaed. The repubji-
cans assembled numerously lieneath it,
and but little foresight was necessary
to perceive that in the cod, the oause
its
enterprise, as we have seen, bad so
conducted, as to remain entirely unsus
pected by the existing powers. This
enviable security the management of
La Pola herself bad principally effect
ed; and under its cover, she perfected
a scheme of communication with the
patriots by which she put into their
possession all the plans of the Span
iards. She was the princess of the
Tertulias—a mode of evening enter
tainment common to the Spaniards.—
She. presided at these parties with a
grace and influence which brought all
their officers to her house. They lis
tened with delight to the power and
delicacy with which she accommoda
ted her voice—one of singular compass
and melody—to the notes of her gui
tar, in the performance ujion which she
was uncommonly successful. Unsus
pected of any connection with politics,
and regarded only as a fine woman,
more solicitous of a long train of ad
mirers, than of any tiling else, she con
trived to collect from the officers them
selves most of their plans in the prose
cution of the war. She soon learned
the force of their several armaments,
their disposition and destination, and
indeed, in timely advance, all the pro
jected o[>erntions of the Spanish army.
She knew all the officers, and (rom
those present obtained a knowledge of
their absent companions. In this way,
she knew the station of each advanced
post—who was In command, and roost
of those particulars, the knowledge of
which tended as frequently to the suc
cess of Bolivar, as his own conduct
and the courage of bis men. All these
particulars were regularly transmitted
to him, as soon as obtained, by a trus
ty messenger; and the frequent disap
pointments of the royalist arms attest
ed the closeness and general correct-
nectness of the information thus ob
tained.
Unfortunately, one of ber.sommuni*
cations was intercepted, and the cow-
ardly bearer, intimidated by the terror
of impending death, was persuaded to
kill a woman”—and as she spoke, she
covered her face with the saya or veil
which she wore, and on drawing it
aside for the purpose, the words,“Fire
/a Palria,” embroidered in gold were
discovered on the basquina. As the
signal for execution was given, a dis
tanthum.as of an advancing army, was
heard upon the ear.
“ It is he—he comes—it is Bolivar—
it is the Liberator!” she exclaimed with
a tone of triumph, which found its echo
in the bosom of thousands who look
ed with horror on the scene of blood
liefore them. Bolivar it was—he came
with all sjieed to the work of delive
rance—the city was stormed sword in
hand—a summary atonement was ta
ken in the blood of the cruel viceroy
and his Hying partisans. But the De
liverer came too late for the rescue of
the beautiful La Pola. The fatal bul
let bad |>enetrated her heart, but a few
moments before the apjiearance of the
liberating army upon the works, and
in sight of the place of execution.—
Thus perished a woman, worthy to be
sick lied, even when uncertain whether
or not he shall find her alive on his re-
tinn. He must come from the coffin
I of his child, from the tears and agony
of the bereaved mother, and while his
heart is almost breaking, and bis brain
reeling in the effort to think, he must
write, write, write. Oh! if the public
but knew with what suffering he is of
ten served, of the secrets of hut a sin
gle day of newspaper life in one of our
great cities, could hlaze out in letters
of fire behind the ordinary type, what
revelations there would be; revelations 1
of mental torture and physical pain, of
failing nerves and wearied eye-sight,
often pecuniary distress and even pos
itive want For the editorial profess
ion, alas! does not always requite its
followers. There is no time, perhaps,
when our great cities do not contain
one or more editors who do not strug
gle, with unfailing hopes, and empty
purses, to establish a newspaper for
themselves, or who arc compelled liy
savage necessity, to write for a mean
salary that cannot always be paid.
The life of an editor is comparative
ly short. He wears out liefore his
time. The exacting toil he pursues,
which is rarely or never broken by a
solitary day of relaxation, shatters his
nerves, exhausts bis vital energies, and
makes him grey-haired almost in mid
dle age. To him the course of nature
is reversed, and night is turned into
day. He labors when other men sleep.
Nothing tells sooner on the constitu
tion tliati this. The close room in
which he usually sits, the stiffing odors
of damp newspapers from the mails,
and the blinding glare of the gas
lights increase the wear and tear upon
the English; was present at the des
truction of the public buildings, stores,
&c., at Washington city; has been in
India with the British army ; has been
present during his services as a surge
on at over 4000 amputations, ami fif
teen severe battles; was shot twice,
(lerformed surgical o|ier»tions on three
hundred wounded generals, sewn co
lonels, twenty captains, and over elev
en thousand officers of smaller grade,
Ac. He has dined with two kings,
one empress, one emperor, the sultan,
a pope.innum .‘ruble great generals, Ac.
lie held th? largest diamond in his
hand known in the wmld, except one.
He had the British crown in his hand.
Has been married three times, father
to eleven children, all of whom he has
survived. Broken down by disease he
could no longer practice his profession;
too poor to live without employment,
and too proud to become a pauper, ho
sailed in an emigrant ship to this coun
try three years ago; ami this man of
remarkable adventures, classic educa
tion, master of four languages, sixty
years of age, poor, old and decaying,
is now |K‘ddling oranges and apples in
the streets of Boston! “We know
what we are—verily we know not what
we may be.”
A backwoods Judge thus clearly de
fines the crime of murder:
“ Murder, gentlemen, is where a man
is murderously killed. The killer in
such a case is a murderer. Murder by
poison is as much murder as murder
with a gun. It is the murdering which
remembered with the purest and the his system, so that he is a fortunate constitutes murder m the eye ol the law.
proudest: who have elevated and done ™*mber of his profession d he does You will bear,,, mind that murder is
honor to nature and her sex-one who not give out entirely liefore he is fifty one thing and manslaughter another:
with all the feelings and affections of J years old. Nothing but distinguished therefore, H it ,s not manslaughter it
the woman, possessed of all the patri
otism, the pride, the courage, and the
daring of the man!
success, and the consequent ability to
lighten his toil by employing substi
must lie murder,
ing to do with
Self-murder has noth-
tbis case. One man
lutes, can save him front this irresisti- cannot commit felo de $e on another;
ble doom. Some live, indeed, to drag that is clearly my view. Gentlemen,
Love of the Beautiful.—Wo- on a miserable old age in poverty and I think you can have no difficulty.—
men have a much nicer sense of the mental labor; some become decrepit
beautiful than men. They are, by far in intellect, and some, God knows too
the safer umpires in matters of propriety many, by seeking in stimulants aids to
and grace. A mere aehonl girl will be labor, go down to drunkard’s graves,
thinking and writing about the beauty or live degenerated menials,
of birds and flowers, while her brother Happy the editor who, by strict econ-
is robbing the nests and destroying the 0 my in the noon of life, or brilliant ta-
flowers. Herein is a great natural law, | en t8 in hit profession, sceures for him-
that the sexes have each their relative golf a comfortable old age. But from
excellencies and deticiences, in the bar- w |,at we know of our brethren in the
monious union of which lies all the cr aft, we fear that a majority fall a sa-
wealth of domestic happiness. 'Hiere (> r jfice either to their own errors, to
is no liettor test of moral excellence, want of ability, or to misfortunes
ordinarily, than the keenness of one’s beyond their control. It is a hard
sense, and the depth of one’s love, of life—there is none harder—Phil. Bui-
all that is beautiful. - s fetia.
Murder, 1 say, is murder. The mur
der of a father is fratricide: but it is
not fratricide if a man murders hit
mother. Y'ou know what murder is,
and 1 need not tell you what it is not
I repeat that murder is murder. Y’ou
mav retire upon it if you like.”
AVhen a Kentucky Judge, some years
since, was asked by an attorney, upon
some strange ruling, “ Is that law, your
honor!” he replied: If the Court un
derstand herself, and we think she do,
it are I*
Death is the wish of tome, the relief
of muy, and the end of ell.