University of South Carolina Libraries
EDGEFELDME DVRTlE.m DnLrai 3 unmal, PDrusOtro to~ $su01lyn ffiS)ts, 34 s Jk1i1ics1 6:nnt2 iut1iiea Cihndur, 'Ir ait, ponpl" kgOicuttu & -V F DIIS rorito. "We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of our Libertlian if it must fall, we *111 Perish amidst the Ruins." W. F. DVAisoE, Proprietor EDGEFIELD S ARCH 23, 1853. VO0. 0Vm..-io. 10. TEI EDGEFIELD ADVERTISER, IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY W. P.'MURISOZ Proprietor. ARTHiR SIMEINS, Editor. TERMS. two DOLLARS per year, if paid in advance-TWO LLARS and FirTy Cxsxis if not paid within six nths--and TaEE DOLLAaS if siot paid before tile piratua of the year. All subscriptions not distinct limited at the time of subscribing, -will be - consid I as madie for an indefinite period, and will he con nued itntil all arrearages are paid, or at the option f the Publisher. Supscriptions from other States ilst invariably he accompanied with the cam-l or efrence to some one known to us. ADV:RTISEMENTS will e conspicuouly inserted t 75 centas per Square (12 lines or less) for the first neertion, anti 371 cents for each subsequent insertion. Vhen nt!y published Monthly or Quarterly $1, per uare wi!l be charged. All Advertisements not saving the deeired nutnber of insertilns marked on the sargin. will be cuntinued until forbid and charged ceordingty. Those desiring to ndvertise by the year can do so on ibeia terms-it being 41 ixtinctly unlerstood that con racts for yearly advertising are confined to the nime iate, legitinuate business of the firm or individual ontracting. Transient Advertisements must be leaid or in advance. For announcing a Candidate, Three Dollars, in advance. For Advertising Estrays Tolled, Two Dollars, to be p tid by the Magistrate advertising. THE LILLY OF L-. BY J. T. TOWEItDGE. Never shall I -forget the hast New Year's Eve I passed in the village of D-. Even at this day, the strange and terrible event, which has impressed indellibly upon my soul the memory of that night, haunts my itmagi. nation in the dark nid-winter hours and not unfrequently disturbs my dreams. I have often thought it singular, that it is only at the close of the year-in'the dull and dreamy December-that these recollections force tlemtselves upon me with-a degree of force. It must he 'something It the association of the season with the incident. Whatever it may be, it is that something which impels me at this moment to look 1 --k with mem ory fresh and strong to tha and relate its story.. It was the inight of the tl cember. There was.to be yot L.--,irlyma d g1ref this hall. 1 was one of tie company of six gentlemen-as boys advanced in their teens like to be called-who chartered a large sleigh to be drawn boy four splendid black horses, and to be. driven by the celebrated horse tamer, F--; (so well known in L -, and who may lie still livin:: there,) whose services we considered ourselves for tunate in having secured. It was just seven o'clock in the evening, when F - having faithfully picked up our party in-differtnt parts of the village, we set out from L--. The air was bitter cold the glowitng constellations twinkled with un surpassed brilliancy in the clear, frosty sky; the crisp crackled and shrieked beneath the ltofs of the horses and the runners of the sleigh; and the chime of the bells filled the air. We a tmerry party ; and Ott settinag out everv heart beat high int joyful unison with the chime of the bells. Wevll provided with strawv and " buffadoes," we defied the cold, and only latughed the louder when wve fet th;e frost spitrit tingling int our fitgers and toes, atnd maliciously attackitn" our faces. .Having beetn disa ppointted in tnot bieitng able to obtain for a compatnion the young~ queen of any neart-who had cruelly en g aged herself for another scene of pleasure, although she knewv I expected hter to go with mue to the ball, I was the bachelor of the company ; all my' compantions beidig pro' ided with par'tners. To conceal the achitg venid itt my heart, I assumed -an excecding gaiety, aand declared ttyself happy ini my liberty, since it aflforded me ant oippoitunity to try my skill in driving four idhand. F- ac commodated tme with the reins, and I'-useti them so as to command his approbatio'l aned at thme same time to excite emulutiotn in the hearts of otne or two of my companions. Whena I was too cold to enjoy driving any lotnger I crept into the body of the sleigh in the ntidst of thce buffaloes anad strate whicha etveloped the party ; and Williatm G proposed to take tay place. "No-do tnot, William," I heard his part. ner say itn a beseeching voice. Thtis Lizzie Lore-who will ttot blutsh nowv to see her name wvritten in hull. Witht the exception of my perfidious Mary 1 looked upon Lizzie as the most chcarming gitl itt our village. She was ahen sixteetn-tall, slender and graceful-itt shtort, thte morst paerfect lilly I ever beheld. My Mary was a rose. H ad I preferred lillies to roses, I might have pre frred L'rrzie to Mary. As it was, I thought her without att equal in beauty and grace with one exception. William was Lizzie's b~eau. Tltey were quite devoted to each othter, and~ quarrelled often enongh for their friends to suppose there was a great deal of jealous love ott botht sides. Thaey htad some sort of misun terstantding that evenitng. William htad been somewhat too attentive to somte other fair one; and Lizzie's feieling had been hcurt. It mightt htave beetn as maucht spite as emo ationj of mny drivitng wvhich prompted Williatm to volunteer to take the reitns. As [ said before, Lizzie begged htitn not o chatnge his seat. He was by hter side of ou rse.. ". Why not ra Ice atked. "Oh !" said Lizzie, " I am so cold ! But go if you like," she added in a tremblitng ,ice. I suppose Wilfliam was ashamed thten to yield. "Are you cold?" he asked, somewhtat earnestly. But hte added quickly itn a gay tnealluidingr to myself "Well, Fred will keep you warm! He understands it! Ha! ha! do your duty, Fred!" And William took his seat with the driver. I set down by Lizzie's side. Too gallant to allow William's sugges tions to pass without taking advantage of it, I let my arm gently glide around the Lilly. She as gently repulsed me; and heaving a sigjh, I took care of my unruly arm. I was sorry I had not put it where it belonged at first. Lizzie was nevertheless inclined to flirt. I tried to talk with her without meeting with much encouragement towards sociabil. ity; and I was not at all sorry when Wil:im finally returned to take his seat. I beard him whisper to Lizzie; but she answered him very briefly. I thought she must be very angry with hin to be so silent. " Are vou cold now " be asked. "Not now." Why don't you talk then I" I don't feel like talking," answered Liz. zie in a low tone. "You are angry with me 1" " .am not angry; WVil!iam !' "Displeased !" Lizzie made no reply. Well, if ou are," said William between his teeth, "can't help it. It is imnpossilh'e for me to please you always. You are con tinually getting angry with me about trifles. When you get over it just let me know." I always thought William was a little cru el. lie turned to Jan H--, and began to converse with her in the gayest tone he could command. Still Lizzie said nothing. She only sighed. Once more I endeavored to draw her into conversation; but she scarcely answered me. Observing my object, William put his face to hers, and said with a slight laugh Are you pleased yet ?" She made no reply ; but seated herself in a more comfortable position in the bottom of the sleigh. Let her pout," laughed William. '- I ai used to it. She'll get over it soonest if you leave her alone." I must confess I was partly of his opinion, and thinking I had done all duty demanded, resolved to follow his advice. I did not speak to the Lilly again. She sat motion. of the sleigh. the twinkling stars! And our four black horses pranced gailey; and still the snow shrieked and crackled be. neath the runners hoofs; and as we flew on wai d dark fences seemed jagged lines traced upon the white ground. Still Lizzie, in the midst of all thiq mirth. sa motionless and silent on the bottom of the sleigh. Thus we arrived at D -. F- drove up to the hotel, where the ball was to be, in ran( style wheeling the four blacks into a beautiful circle, and bringing the sleigh within half an inch of the steps. Just at that time our merry voices were pouring forth the stirring tones of the " Canadian boatman's song," which to my ear had never sounded so beautiful, and grand, and full of soul stirring melody as on that winter night. I do not like to hear it now. Ever since it brings thnat scene vividly before me, and fills my soul with sadness! Oh, memory ! how dost thou by one link, drag up from the dark gulf of the past the endless chain of joys and sorrows, forged in the fiery furnace of youth! Its clainking falls heavily upon my heart, like the solemn sound of Sabbath bells! Our song ceased with the chime of sleigh bells! Our merriment bad protected us against the cold, anid it was no great matter to overcome the numb sensation which sit ting long in one position had produced ; and we rose upon our feet. Youths leaped to the steps, and wvith playful complaints of be. ing frozen, the girls, with their assistance did the same, with one exception. Lizzie sat' still. "Lizzie," said William. There wvas no reply. "She is asleep !" said- one of the girls gaily.. " ll risk that in the noise wve made !" ex laimed another. ' "l e' is making 'believe !" said William pevishly. " She is only wa-iing for moe to get out of the wvay. Well ll humor her. Fred, he so good as to escort her in wvhen she is ready !". And William to shaow~ himself independent -I have always supposed-walked proudly into the hotel. " Conme, Lizzie !"-exclaimed Ellen V impatiently, " we are waiting for you." " She is actually asleep !" said I. "She would not act so, Ilam sure, if she was not. Take hold of her." Ellen shook her companion's shoulder. The Lilly drooped the more. Ellen pushed aside the thick veil, and endeavored to raise her head.. " She won't wvake up !" she exclaimed half frightened. "There is something wvrong," muttered F--, who had given the reins to the ostler: "I am afraid !" said Ellen, starting back. "I-I-think she has fainted !" F- bounded into the sleigh. I saw him tear the thick glove from his hand, and lay his palm on Lizzie's face. A suppressed exclamation escaped his lips; no more ; and lifting the Lilly in his arms as if she had been an infant, he bore her hastily into the hotel. A vague terror had come over me. I he lieve I feared the worst. Uncertainty made horror more horrible. I heard F- call for help the moment he entered the ball, and being wholly beside myself' with fear, I rush ed into the public parlor. I met William G- near tdie d'oor.. " There is something the matter with Liz zie," I articulated. Either my words or my manner convoyed a farul meing to William's heart. Laugh ter died onl his lips. Mirth faded from his countenance. He became deathly pale. With Lizzie I" he gasped. Making a strong effort to appear self possessed iii the presence of the crowd which pressed around me, I said-" I think she is dyinag I" A cry of consternation quivered on every lip. Only William was silent. No, direction *ai r.eeded to lead him to the Lilly. Al ready a crowd pressed around her indicating the spot where she lay in the arms of those who were endeavoring -to restore sensation. It was too late! I heard a murmur fall from the ashy lips of Jane H-, who had penetrated the throng, and obtairned a view. of her compan. ION. " Frozen to death!" Dizzy and faint I turned away. For a momenti I seemed staggering under a horrid dream. The walls re-eled around me. Gast. ly iaces and spectral forms floated before my vision in a mit. My perfect consciousness was restored by seeing a pale figure approach, With wild ges. t ares of despair. It was William! His face was haggared; I never .saw a countenance s full or grief unutterable. He wrung his hands and muttered " Lizzie! Lizzie !" Trhat was all. I took him by the hand. I e ideavored to say something-I hardly know what-sonething to lessen his grief-but lie pusled nie from him with a desperate ges t ire, and falling heavily upon a chair with h's hands clasped fiercely to his brow, groan e I aloud. How'deeply was.the terror of that night stamped into my young and inexperienced heart! llow vividly the scene flashes now upon my soul ! Once more I seem to gaze on the pale face of the Lilly as she lay in theicoid embrace of death, still beautiful in the magnificence of her ball-room dress! Oh! the vain and hollow heart of youth! Not even the fate of one so young and fair could check the mad pulse of mirth, or im. press a serious thought upon the gay beings who had met to celebrate the death of an otler year! . The music pealed forth its joy ous tones; the dance went on ; the ball-room resounded iith gayety; and in another chamber lay the corpse of the beautiful and young; and there we, her grief-stricken i nda. noured forth our lamentations over J ; that leariui imew iear s Eve-as uey uu this saddened heart of mine! "THE WORLD OWES XE A LIVDG." No such thing, Mr. Fold.up-your-ha ids; the world owes you not a single cent' Yinu I 0i have done nothiing these twenty yeirs but consume the products earned by the sweat of other men's brows. " You have eat, and drank, and' s-ept: what then? Why eat, and drank, and skpt aga n." And this is the sum total of your life. Arnd the woi ld " owes you a living ? For what? I How comes it indebted to you to that t: ifling anount? What have you done for it? What family in distress have you befriended ? What products have vou created? What miseries have you alleviated I What acts have you perfected I The world owes you a liviag idle man! Never was there a more absurd idea L- You have been a tax-a sponge upon the wvorld ever since'y'o come ito it. It is v'our creditor in a vast amount. I Your liabilities are immense, your assets are nothiang, and yet you say the world is oin~ag you. Go to !. The amiount iai which you stand indebted to the world is greater thian yu will ever have the power to liquidate ! You owe the world the labor of your two strong arms, and all the skill in work they might have gained ; you owe the world thea labor of that brain of yours, the sympathies of that heart, the energies of your being; vou owe the wiorld the wvhole moral and in- C tellectual capabilities of a man! Awake, I theii, from that dreamy do-nothing state of ~ slotfulness in which you live, and let us no longer hear that false assertion that the world is owing you, unitil you have done something. PoLITENEss AND) CIvILITY DEFINED.-- I polite maan is always civil, a civil " man is I not always polite. Politeness is in the minad, ~ ii thie temper. It is always the fruit of a good education; it is the consequence of I iviag with wiell-bred people. True polite- I iess is not ceremonious. Civility on the C contrary is exceedingly so. Politeness has a language; delicate, soft agreeable. Civility is uancertaan in its expressions. Politeness isC simple, easy, soft, t anc. Civility is stiff, awkwvard, and has little or no siiicerity. A plite person makes us perfectly at ease; a I eivil one tires us, and fatigues our minds. Aa diiterested persoan is alway polite, an in terested maan is hut civil. MWARRIAGE.-" No maan ever knows when,I whlere, or whom he'll marry. It's all non. sease planning and speculatinag about it. You might as well look out for a spot to a fall in a steeple chase. You come smash dowan in the middle of your speculations." THERiE is a girl in Troy who wears sucla a sunshialy face that when she goes out of doors the snow birds take her for summer, follow her about as if she had app~le bios. soms in her apron. Wijth such a power in cheerfulness, isn't it singular that womani ever allowv themselves to have the sulksi "SAIxx run to the store and get some sugar," said a mother to her son, a promis ing youth of ten summers. " Excuse me, ma; I aam somewhat indir. posed this moraning. Send father and tell him to bring ame a hunch of good segars and a plug of tobacco." A FELLOW who wa6 being led to execu ton told the officers they most not take him] through a certain street lest a merehatt who resided there, should arrest him for an; od debt t THE DAYS 2N ! AT We will not deplore them, the daysi re past ; The gloom of misfortume.ia e1ei-a They were lengthened by sor sul'ied by care, Their griefs were too many, theV 's were too rare; Yet know that their shadow.satr@ no more. Lvt us weleome the prospecttat b tens before! We have eherishe'l fair hopes w ve plotted brave schemes, We have lived till we find tieil as dreams, Wealth has nielted like snow ped in the hand, And the steps we have elim departed like sand, Yet shall we despond, irlile.. unbereft, A nd honr, bright honcr,an ate left? 0! slhall we despond, while the of time Yet open before us theih recordsain el While books lend their tresuires &ing, which st~ll Hlave been our high solace w s'd by ill; While humanity whispers such Nathe car AA it softens the heart, like . e, tohear! D! shall we despond, wlifle n -still free. We can gaze on the sky, and the sea; While the sunshina can waken a it of del'ght And the sltars are a joy andaglo night; While each harmony runiing nature can raise [n our spirits the impulse of gpraise! 0 ! Icrus y longer then vaily Dver scenes which have fadid M y that arc spent; .X But by fath unforsaken, una'w iulscbance Dn hope's waving banner still- k our glance; And should fortune prove criel also to the last. [Lt us look to the future and the past! THE" Ii A T MIE. ANA EXTRAC "A time to die!"-A set' -an appoint. d tine-to every one f- ointed-we lo not know it-hut God a it. In His ioly book it is written th ch a year, n such an hour-you-y 1t man-that naiden-that child- .. shall die! knd escape is Imposs ell might % 0! I i 1 : I ,ou breathe is a human depth knell. This ky is a canopy of a great death chamber. 'his earth is a aienveious and mighty sepul Ire. And our times are appointed !-our lays are numbered ! For a set tine and an ippninted, is-" 'The time to die!" " There is a time to die!" For whom I )h, for all of us-for you to die, and for mne. )ifficult I know it is to realize this-most lifficut to impress it an the living conscience. can believe that others are mortal. I can ielieve that the dearest ones on earth will ie cold, and shrouded and coffined in the ,rave. But alas, I can scarcely bring it ome to my own heart that death will come o me-that this hand .will soon be pulseless -this voice soon be hushed forever-this eart beat no more-this forehead pressed [own by tIe coffin lid and the cold, dark arth. But yet, as sure as God liveth, it omes-death comes-td all! Youth, be. yved youth will die ere the spring brightens. iged man-you whose head is a crown of 'lory in our midst-a few intore days, and nose gray locks will he put away from that 3rehead for the mourners to, look upon. )ear child, you will lie in a little coffin, cold, enaceless, silent as the dead lie. Man-man ayour noble stature and unbent strength iat flashing eye will fade-that mighty eart wa'" break. Oh, I see iti A darkened hambr -friends gathering silently and sad ~-beue,'d forms pressing to the bedside pale face, a convulsed frame-work. Oh, hear it-the wild farewell-the breath rawn gaspingly-the broken-hearted sob ing of mother, of husband, of wife, of child, )h, I see it!1-the shroud-the coffin-the ier-the funeral ttain-the open grave! ~ut whose? do you ask-whose? alas, yours ! td yours and yours. Oh, my God, what, 'htat is lifei A cloud, a vapor, a dream that aniisheth-a tale that is told-a walk blind sided amid open graves, and on the brink f great precipices. In yonder prison there lies a man appoint d to execution. All appeals for executive lemney have been in vain.'' On such a day, rsuch a month, he dies. Oh! if lie could ome and stand in this place, how he would reach to you. How think you the time eems to him? How terrible these tmornitng *nd evening bells that measure his being ! 1owv awful the slow movetment of sunbeams long his dungeon walls! IHow wild each ourly stroke on the great time-keeper! low every sound on the dull ear, and every hadow that creeps through the gloomy cell, cems the footfall, the whisper, the shadow if that dread thing, Death I:Death ! And yet, s he nearer to death surely than we Why, vhere is death-awvay yon'der i Nay, sirs; ae is here-here-sittings in these seats valking through: these aibles-his shadow alls betwveen speaker and hearer-death is acre! Where is eternity-years away? Nay, aere-just behind that curtain. Hark I this ittle knock sounds through--death and eter iity are here. We sometimes picture life as Sgreat path, leading to a precipice. But his is not true; it is a narrow path, right dlong a precipice! The verge crumbles now. )h my God I w-rite it on our hearts-send rom the grave of the glorious dead a voice, :o bring the mighty truth in thunder on our dlumbering souls. A PUNsTER says, " My name is Somerset. [ am a miserable bachelor. I cannoti mar ry ; for how eoulId ]I hope to prevail on any young lady possessedf of the slighiest delica rv to turn a Somerset." ENcOUR&GEMM Oro POOR BOYS. It is a singular fact that the sons of th wealthy and fashionable seldom ever ar able to fill the places of their parents. rhej become vain, idle, dissipated fops, and at tend to everything else :except their owi proper, mental moral and physical develop ments. Instead of attempting to rise upoi their own good character and capabilities they are content to rest upon the reputatioi of their family and ancestry. They becomi an excrescence upon the body politic and but too often, sink into the grave, degrade< disgraced. How much all this is owing t( the defective training and character of thi mothers, we pretend not to say. One thint is certain that young men whose mothers di their duty by exercising a judicious control seldom if ever turn out badly. They ma3 not be brilliant, but they will at least b respectable members of society. How fa the mother may impart her own traits an( peculiarities to her children may be judgec by the following anecdote related by th< Rev. Dr. Hawks, of New York, in a lectur< which he delivered before the Historica Society of that city: " Amnong those who formed a part of the settlement during the revolutionary struggle was a poor widow, who having buried hei husband, was left in poverty, with the tast upon her hands of rearing three sons; oi these, the two eldest, ere long, fell in the cause of their country, and she strugglec on with the youngest as the best she could After the fall of Charleston, and the disas. trous defeat of Col. Buford, of Virginia, by Tarlton, permissions was given to sonnt four or .five American females to carry necessaries and provisions, and administer some relief to the prisoners confined on board the prison ship and in the jails of Charleston. This widow was one of the volunteers on this errand of mercy. She was admitted within the city, and braving the horrors of pestilence, employed hersell to the extent of her humble means, in alle viating the deplorable sufferings of her countrymen...She knew what she had to encounter before she went; but, notiith standing, went bravely on. Her message of humanity having been fulfilled, she left Charleston on her return; but alas! her ex posure to the pestilential atmosphere she bad been obliged to breathe, had planted in her system the seeds of fatal disease, and ere she reached her home, she sank under - martvrto this free Repu , . - mother of Andrew Jackson: New lf ARRiAur TEA.-The British gny erment is trying to hire the corvicts at Van Dieman's Land to get married, by pro. nising them freedom, as a reward for iheir hinrdihoood in undertaking that hazardous enterprise. It is said that all the old maids and bachelors on the island are embracing the opportunity to change their condition, by marrying handsome young thieves and vagabonds of either sex. Some of the cun, ning rogues, however, will not swallow the matrimonial hook even whlen it is baited with such a sweet morsel as liberty. A sim ilar government policy was adopted once be fore in England. When a man was con icted of certain offences, and sentenced to e hung at tyburn, if any lady could be f'ound willing to espouse him under the gal ows, he wvas forthwith pardoned and set at iberty, the marriage being considered pun. shment enough. On one occasion, wh'len ack Ketch was about to perform his office on a certain criminal, a lady stepped forth rom the crowd and ofi'ered to take him for etter or worse. The poor fellow looked at er, then at the cord, hesitated for a mo ent, and finally expressed his determination in the following distich: " Long nose, sharp chin : Tic the rope, hangman !" BURlYING MoNEY BY T~la ARABs OF THlE DEsER.-Dr. J. V. C. Smith, in a recent ecture on Palestine, alluded to the follow ing circumstance: The Sheiks, or Arab hiefs, are in the habit of burying their reasures in the sands of the desert; no atter what it is, an Americanm half-eagle or tin box, anything which they wish to pre serve secure, they at once repair to the esert, and deposit it where rnone but them selves can hope to find it. Wheni the Doctor visited the Dead Sea, he hired three Sheiks o accompany him as guides and protectors; e gave .five dollars to each, besides the present always necessary at the close of a argain ; the Sheiks went immediately out into a desert place to deposit their money. Some of these Arabs live to be one hundred nd twventy-fIve years old ; they continue to ury their wealth as long as they live ; they are reputed to be wealthy because they ave much wealth buried; yet increase of ihes make scarce any diff'erence in their ndulgence or mode of life. In their old age they forget where the articles are de osited and die without ever leaving any thing for their children. It is supposed that not less than a million of dollars in value is thus buried annually, and the time will come when the searching for and recovering of thi hidden wvealth will be an extensiv-e and roitable business. The address was an xceedingly interesting and instructive one, and'listened to by as many as could gain dmittance to the house.-Boston Traveler. "FATHIER, are there any boys in Con gress I" S" No, my boy, why. do you ask that question I" "Because the paper said the other day that one of the members kicked Mr. Cor win's Bill out of the house." SoME ohe~ computes that .the ~as d this ontry destroy fifteeun milliens .of dollars worth of property every year. No allusion to plitics. cALoRMA. AS IT I. THE following letter which we find in our drawer, clipped from the Carolinian proba bly, will be round interesting to those who desire to know something practical and true about the great " gold diggings of the I WeSt." SAx FiR cisco. DE.R COLONEL: When we parted, I promised to write to you as soon as I be came sufficiently acquainted with the coun try to give you a satisfactory account of the resources, etc., of the country. Having been unable to hold a pen lor many months, of course I could not comply. The mineral region of California is en tirely unfit for agriculture, except for the g.owth of barley, the plains being destitute of sufficient water for irrigation. The rivers are rapid, having made their way through successive ranges of moun tains wi:h high banks, upon which scarcely an acre of arable land can be found, not more than sutlicient to furnish one-tenth of the mining population with the common garden vegetables. The placer diggings are becoming rapidly exhaus'ed, notwithstanding all that is said to the contrary. I am perfectly satisfied that miners do not average three dollars per day ; some may make more during part of t::e year, and during the dry season not more than a support, or one-third. The quartz mines have ruined thousands. Millions of dollars have been lost by quartz claim:ants. Some have expended all they had made for severa.l years prospecting quartz ledges, with the hope of finding deposits in the rock, and most probably for every hundred ledges that have been prospected, not more than one deposit has been found, and that not sufficiently valuable to pay the expenses of the Company. Others have expended thou. sands in inachinery, believing from the rich specimens assayed, that the- rock would yield from five to fifty cents per pound, and that in a few months they would be able to realize immense fortunes from the proceeds of their quartz mills. But unfortunately, all have been disappointed; two-thirds of the quartz mills have been abandoned-a few are probably making expenses, and the remainder something more-but all have fallen far short of the expectations of their unfortunate owners. Our mill was fortu. nately small, and although it failed to pay, nor lov wn very inconsiderable in com. -but not before ; and I am satisfied that in a few years the placer diggings will be ex hausted, and California will be entirely de pendant upon her quartz mines and agricul tural resources. The valleys of the Sacramento and San Joaquin will always yield more hay than can be consumed in the whole State, be sides supporting immense herds of cattle; but being subject to inundation, they can never be cultivated to advantage. There are, however, other valleys nearer the Pacific, as well as some on the East, that are extremely fertile, and produce every egetable in the greatest perfection. I have seen cabbage heads that weighed thirty-five pounds, and beets and radishes as large. Barley and Oats are the rnatural products of the soil, arid wvheat growvs in great perfec tion without irrigation. The whole of this country, hills and valleys, in the summer is one immense flower garden. Tulips, prim. roses, luplins, and all the labiate flowers, as well as a hundred others, grow in the great est perfection. 'The climate in the mountainous part of the State is too wvarn1 during the day to be plesant. The hights are alwvays cool. Ott the bay, and particularly at San Faancisco, the climate is delightful, and would he the finest in the wvorld if it were not for wiestern winds that prevail there during the summer months. The temperature is delightful, being seldom cold enough to render fire ecessary, and never warm etnough for sum mer clothing to be comfortable. Professional men abound in this country, particularly lawyers. Somte of them have dotie wvell, as well as some physicians; but the majority are barely miakitng a living, anid; some niot even that much. 1 am practising in San Francisco, wvith fair prospects before me, there being little cornpetitiotn in surgery. I have no doubt of doing well, havirng five thousand dollars certain-being Physician to the State Marine Ilospital. A good saw mill is the best property in tais coutntry, beitng sure to pay. Ilam truly, yours, H-. H. T. " Julius, is you better dis morning (" " No, I was better yesterday, but I got over it." " Am der no hopes den c.J your discove "Discovery ob "v/nat !" "Your discovery from der convalescence which fotetied yer on your back." " D". depends, Mr. Snowv, altogether on de prognostications which amplify the dis ease; should them terminate fatally, the doctor thinks Julius is a gonenigger; should dey not terminate fatally, he hopes dis colored individual wont die till anoder time. As!I said before, it all depends on the prog nostics, and till these come to a head, it is hard telling wvhedder de tigger will discon tinue his come or not. - i ' Don't know, sir." " Yes, you do know, tell me." " Wall I guess it was uncle, for father sez he wvas so cutnning he got every body to fr'st h', and wvan't fool endugh to pay nobody." AN ARTIst painited a e'anon sa~ fraturally b'IM wher day,. that when he finished the MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL UoNVE3TION. - In the Jackson Miss., Flag of the Unioa, of the 14th inst., we perceive a long list of Delegates to the Memphis Commercial Con vention, appointed by Gov. Foote, n con, formnity with the request of the ltem s. Committee of Correspondence. This Convention will assembfeonlieflirst Monday in June next. Delegatione, con; posed of the best men in the South,. will be' present. The questions to be discussed a' of the first interest, and grandest importatce, and ought to attract the undivided aftentiw of every well wisher of Southern improv ment, of every advocate of Southearly comu mercial independence. Railroads, direst trade with Europe from Southern' ports;* manufacturers, a communication with tfie Pacific by means of a steam or caloric lbcn motive, will be thoroughly and ably discussv ed.-N. 0. Bulletin. ONE HUNDRED MILEs PER HouR.-'A Maine Yankee" announces, through the-1Ng tional Intelligencer, the invention of a form' of road and improved locomotive, which;-hbe says, will safely transport the mails andipasa sengers at the rate of one hundred miles po hour! The writer further says he has beers made acquainted with the details of tIlese improvements, " which are so palpablyoot rect in theory, and feasible in practicei-that every civil engineer and railroad manswili, on examination, at once recognize aud Idl mit, as the desideratum, even to the exlent of safety and speed above indieated." '1'-1 - next Congress, it is said, is to be inviieditb secure its adoption, and give to the worl&', the result of the first experiment. The-corw, struction of a post-railroad between Wasi ingtou and New York, we think, will.i hastened by this invention. HOG SrATIs-ris.---The number of Itg packed at the Weet, embracing eight Stao. up to the 8d of March, is 2,014,005, betAg an increase of nearly half a million over the previous year; but this number is rednbet about one hundred thousand by the 'fallin' off in weight. The crop reduced topound 9 compared with last year, shows'an exces the previous year of nearly eight millionsof pounds, or an increase of twenty-four-pie cent. NEWSPAPER READER3.-lf subscriber .t& journals, like church members, in " stoppitag their paper," were required to producegan. editorial certificate before they could .sob. which was never sent to him, but Ohicbr- he ought to have detected in some of Jis'e change papers. We certify that E. F. widhH to transfer his patronage to another p,', because, having taken this paper six yeltl wvithout paying a cent, he felt himself ins.*' ed by having a bill sent to him by way of'rs minder, postage unpaid. We certify that'B.B. in his own opinion, is a poet of the first'WIa ter; but the editor, unfortunately dif'eig! rom him in his opinion, is regarded by'hi' is wholly unqualified for his office.' V" :ertify that 1. J. has stopped his pape-' be: :ause the editor had the temerity to emoeess in opinion on a certain matter without'htvl ng previously ascertained the opkiion'of his particular subscriber." THE Scotch are inquisitive people.'-'Iheri arious questions are deemed very dbstrusive, - nd are carried to a length. Tw'o' gile nen fell in together, both travellers on'hotmse' ~ack and strangers, to each other, whien 'the& ollowing conversation took place. " Raw evening sir," obsered: tha' on ith anm A berdeen accent. " Yes rather," replied theothem<. " You will be a stranger-- in'theie'idis, :ontinued the A berdeenian.' "If I can," Iaeonicallgreplied~ thi' othew' ookinwg neither to the rights hnd- not to -th6 eft " Perhaps, like myself' yatt mhy be going o Bauffl" " Perhaps," responwdcd the' othef' ykiti g. " In that case,-jierliaps you' will put df'at> ullen I" . "1 may, or Fa may- not," ab'svered' his' ~ompanion. "Pardon me the liberty of the iistibb' iir, may I ask if yon are a' b'aaoM~" "Oh! married i " No, no.". " Sir, I beg your'pirrdon,, I m'ajy h'av tin ntentioally todehed u'pon d painfui subject ; our 'olack dress ought to:, ellee.t my iu'qM. i's; I beg your pardon sir a wvido'sde'r f " No, no, no." . . . " Neither a bachelor, nort a maried man, or widower; in heaids .nanie Sar; then; what can you be I" -- " A divorced man' and be d-d todyou, ince you must kn~w!" e'laiinted the tranger, clapping spars to his hrs, and ashing out of sighat ins.tantly. -.I - A SWEARING PARlTY.--fl bthe coon fes of the State of Conniicut, (says the Knickerbocket,) boasLs . ~a judge who, hough poorly furnished with those little efinements usualdy ,ipe(: with in polished society, is an energeti,' shrewd man, and a pomising law~yer. .. .A neighbor of his,some weeks ago,' Gasbout to give away his anghter in mnage, and having a depm ooted dislilie. jo the clerical profession, and being1 determined, as he said,.." to have nor nfernal. paison in his housej"' he sent for bde fiend; Ij judge, to performi the, ceremsoty. The judge came, and the candlidates for the connubial yoke taken their ptaee before him, he thus addressed the br*ide i "~ You swear you will marry this mait" "Yes, sir," w'as the reply. " And you"~ (to the bride.groonm) "d 'ar you will mrry this voman I" "Well, I do," said the groom. "Then," says the jrdge "I swvear yur married !* . yur