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a. ~~rewcriaic 3vurnda, arvotdb to dySoul4 Janb Son rn aitst titiics, Caut JLUt ,Lhdri~~i1,(emt~ne 4~iutr "We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of oug Liberties, and if it must fall, we will Perish amidst the Ruins." SIUKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDGEFIELD, S. C., SEPTEMBER 22, 1858. * -X'"---"*"' "HAZEL DELL!" -0 BY JENNY WOODBINE. Two straw hats, with ribbon streamers, lying on the turf-two merry girls sitting at the foot of an old oak playing with a pet dog, who nest les first in the lap of one, then the otger. A young man, not more than nineteen, seated in front of them, leaning a thoughtful, handsome brow, on a white well-shaped hand, and pushing back with the other the rich clusters of light hair, which would fall about in harum-scarum independence. A hazy June afternoon-one of those bright, golden evenings, which insensibly draw one nearer heaven-stately trees whose green leaves are made golden by the last rays of the setting Sun-long blades of grass, fresh, green and lux uriant, interspersed now and then with white and crimson pinks, fragile lilies, and slender purple violets-forming a carpet more gorgeous ly magnificent than that upon which the feet of princes rest. A lazy stream at a little dis tance, whose waters now and then glisten like molten silver. A calm, blue sky overhead, over whose peaceful bosom, white fleecy clouds are lazily sailing. You have the picture-a picture which mem ory has nursed faithfully for many years. One of those merry girls is myself-the other, my only friend, Nellie Norton. The handsome boy is Willie-Willie Clifton-.my brother; the pride, and wonder of our quiet neighborhood; the leader in all playful frolics ; the author of much harmless mischief; the life and joy of all. Willie was my darling-my one idol-the sun on whom I discerned no blemish. Many a time had this " graceless urchin," (as aunt Di nah called him) escaped punishment because of my pleading; many atime, by implicating myself, had I screened him from danger. My love for him was a wild intense passion, stronger than any I had ever felt before ; for we were orphans, our mother having died in our infancy; our father a cold, stern man, surviving her but a few years. Willie is just from College, full of fun and frolic; and shocking Nellie and myself by " hair breadth 'scapes," and startling ta!es of College adventure. We laugh at his sallies-we wear his badge by turns, and tense him unmercifully about a certain air which he now and then as sumes-and which is common to most' College students. And yet we are both proud of his learning; and look forward to the time (for we are both ambitious) when he shall be a Gover nor-possibly a President! Oh! Youth, youth! The days speed by rapidly; and now there are only two who ramble together. One ttrays alone-aye, alone-as she has ever been in life; and gazes idly at the stars. Willie and Nellie love each other! I need no Gypsey to assure me of the fact. I see it in his earnest, thought - ful gaze; in her timid, downcast glance. Every night that little brown Cottage under the hill has visitors; every night that little parlor is illumined; and I patiently sit at the Piano, enlivening Nellie's stern father with my gay songs, making him oblivious to the fact that, on the piazza, whispered conversations are going on-and that the handsome College boy is steal ing away his daughter's heart beneath the pale light of the moonbeams. How can he, the unsus pecting father, know that Nellie's white hand, which lies so temptingly on the banister, is clasped lovingly in another hand-not her own ? Now a sad feeling comes over me, and I sing "Hazel Dell." My voice falters as I repeat, " All alone my watch I'm keeping, In the hazel deli; For my darling Nellie's near me, sleeping Nellie dear, farewell !" And Willie cries out from the Piazza, "Not that, pet ; sing something less sad." Then I know that he fears that wail from the broken hear tof another, may one day be his own. * * * * * * * We are in the crowded pity-Nellie and I. Ruffles have been crimped ; laces have been stretched on; ribbons hitched here, and there; flounces pressed and re-pressed-for the Com mencement, which will witness Willie's gradu ation, is at hand ; and we hav-e come from our lonely country home, to see him bear off the laurels he has so nobly won. What a hubbub ! See the students with their huge neck-ties and pompous bows, flock around the cars, greeting friend after friend. We feel quite lonely-Nel lie, and I,-and clasp each others hands tremnu lously, for we are strangers. But here he comes ! Our Willie-we would know him in a thousand ; tall, slender, and graceful, but somewhat more manly than when we saw him last. He sees us-he smiles-he is with us-we are, oh! so happy l - And now the day of days is at I and. We enter the College hall, which is already crowded; and before we are seated the aisles are literally choked with chairs. What a buzz anid hum of conversation-.what a crowd of smiling faces what a fluttering of fans. Hist ! the Band strikes up-yes, 'tis "Hazel Dell ;" and that eager crowd is hushed into silence. Now the exercises begin. One by one the youthful aspi rants come forth, some with lengthy details oin the downfall of Greece, and Rome-that topic which among school boys will never be ex hausted-some with long eulogiums on the * " Empire State;" and seome, less amnbitiou4, with 1'vely speeches brim full of wit, and sarcasm. Now, all is over but the Valedictory. We glance - around at that eager-listening crowd. Surely his heart will fail him. H~e is on the stage our Willie-a shade whiter than usual, but c.lm and composed. My own cheeks are burn ing. I glance at Nellie: she is very, rery pale ~-fearfully so-yet while her forehead, and lips rLre of a transparent whiteness, a bright red apot burns on either side of her face. She beating of her heart! But soon we are lost in that glowing address; the sentences so touch ingly beautiful charm us so, that we almost for get Willie-our Willie !-is the speaker. Ah ! and that vast audience is swayed by that one voice so full of eloquence, so full of feeling. Not only the Class, but all are weeping. I feel Nel lie's tears on my hand, but I am too excited I cannot weep. As the thunders of applause die away, and boquets fall on the stage in a shower, the Band plays touchingly and mournfully some sweet old melody-a farewell song! It is over! Willie has distinguished himself. His name is on every tongue. Old men grasp him by the hand, to speak glowingly of his fu ture prospects; and Willie ismy brother-Nellie's berothed! *. * * * * * * It is a dreary .Autumn day; the time of the roses and singing birds is gone! The waterfall, as it goes tic-tacing over the ruined mill, hath a desolate sounds; the wind sweeps by on its weary wing, and wails as though it mourned a lost spirit; the grass is sere and yellow; the flowers are dead-not a single violet remains to tell of the faded Spring time-no wild rose to mourn the dead summer! Fallin leaves are scattered over the ground; the weeping willow rocks to and fro like one in anguish ; the trees, stripped of their foliage, seem like drear white tombstones, telling of the dead Season-! And we too are sad, for Willie leaves us to-day, for those Western wilds which stretch miles, and miles away, and becken the adventurer to a home among them. Poor, and ambitious, he must carve himself a name-aye, even love must be laid aside until the call of fame is answered. Mistaken Willie! The heart which thou leavest behind thee is worth more than all the applause a world can give. Heed not the syren voice which says, Fame and Fortune first-Love next! Ambitious Willie! How proud he looked, when he said with flashing eye, "My bride shall be second to none in the land. I will not chain your young life down to poverty. You shall never struggle in'its clutches. Those lit tle white hands shall not grow coarse and brown with labor. But when fortune smiles on me, id fame is mine, I will come back to home, love, and thee." Ah! little did he know that brave young heart which throbbed so near his owl; little did he know its strength-its endurance. Ile would have spared her sorrow; even now he was rampling on her heart strings; crushing out their life-their joy. Could he not know that even the hardest hours of poverty when shared wilh him, were moments of heaven compared to the torturing hours of absepee? 'Oh! blind mortal! She bore the parting bravely. She would not let him know that she had wept through all the restless midnight-; and endured such maddening horrors as a long life time of Pover ty's hardest struggles could not inflict. There at the " trysting place," as we termed it, that seat beneath the oaks, she severed one of her curls, and Willie placed it next his heart. It may be there now! " And you will wait for me, Nellie ?" " Yes, until my curls turn gray with age." We all laughed. Hollow mockery! it was like sounds of merriment coming from mourners ver a new made grave ! We sung once more ur favorite songs-there amid 4hose trees eneath those skies-by that stream which had so often been silent witnesses to our moonlight melodies, and innocent pastime. "It may be for years-and it may be forever !" sounded like a prophecy ! An hour more, and the last good-bye had :ied on our lips ! We were alone-Nellie and . And the iron steed was bearing our Willie, away ! away ! away ! * * * * * Waiting ! Watching ! Hoping ! These three words, full of a world of mean ing, sum up our lives. The Autumn of nature -the autumn of the heart ! With every fall ing leaf a hope gave way ! Those letters-! short ones to me-[I was but a sister dear, 'tis true, but holding as was right -selfish heart be still-a second place]-long ones to Nellie. Tramp, tramp, tramp ! I can hear the postman now as he goes on his weary round, careless of the destiny he holds in his ands, conveying joy to some-desolation to others ! The post-boy is your only true fate ! On his coming how much of happiniess, or mise ry depends ! Poets may sing of " Good-bye," and "No more ;" but to me the rcry saddest words in the world are these, " No letter." Nellie was so nervous and excitable when our fate drew near. Her joints would tremble ; her heart beat wildly ; her cheek pale and red den by turns-Ah! those were moments of unsupportable agony ! I have known her crouch down in a corner, closing her ears, and covering her face with her hands, and waiting for the coiing step, as though life and death depended on it. If ho stopped, she would clutch the let ters eagerly-watch for the familiar hand-wri ting-and if not these, sink back in apathetic despair, and sit all day in a sort of stupor. But if dhe lter came, for a whole week there would be uninterruped sunshine. And then would begin again that Weary, Waiting, Watching, Ihoping ! * * *1 * *1 " No letter !" For months-I dare not count them-only this sound reached our ears. E I knoto what Solomon meant when lhe said, "[lope deferred maketh the heart sick." "Dead!" said the sick heart. " False !" prompted the demon. In that cottage under the hill, " Willie" that name of sweetest music-was a forbidden word ! Nellie's father, cold, and hard, and stern always, had grown more so with increas ing years. Ah, why is old age harsh and un lovely ? It should pass away like a sweet dream ; like the glorious fading of a bright sum ier day. Stern old Col. Norton ! His latter yars were not thus serene and lovely. Every human emotion-for avarice is inhuman-seem 'ed crushed out of that old iron bosom. And Nellie must be bartered for gold! Aye, sold, like the beautiful Eastern women, to the highest bidder,-and that too in a Christian land ! "You shall -not wait for a lover, who has long since forgottep your existence. Where is your pride that it does not rise in scorn at his base falsehood? Acton is rich, girl-rich. We are poor-ho loves you; and his you shall be. No more nonsense, Miss Helen Norton !" Oh ! weak Nellie, swayed like a mesmeric patient by that master will, struggling vainly for a lost individuality. Destiny (say rather zceakness) has encircled thee in its meshes. Thou cans't not escape. Thy fate is upon thee -lost Nellie! * * * * * The bridal eve! cold, calm, and cloudless! How can the heavens be silent when such deeds are done? And yet the stars shone as bright 1y as before; the moon rode the heavens tri umphantly, nor paused to veil her face with a eloud because a heart was slowly lireaking. Lovely in her bridal robes-fairer than an artist's vision-and yet it is the loveliness a beautiful corpse wears when we shroud it for the grave! Surely those were funeral lights, they burned so blue and unearthly. Surely those maidens, robed in white are pall-bear ers; that grave, white-haired divine, the minister who is come to say the last words over the dead! A wedding! surely such mar riage was never made in heaven ; and angels weep at the mockery. A bridegroom tottering with the weight of years-a bride in the first flush of youth and beauty. The ties which bind them, sensuality and' gold. Oh ! unhal lowed rites! But what strange white face is that, which rushes in at. the door, and gleams upon usalike a spectre? What means that maniacal stare ? Aye, and why does a shriek from those white lips which have just. vowed to "lore honor, and obey," echo wildly through that festive room? Why ? Because Willie is come. Willie, the victim of careless mail<, come with love and hope to win what is already-the wife of an other! The clergyman cannot unsay it. The innocit victim is sacrificed, and the pardon i comes-too late! I remember nothing distinctly. Nellie was borne fainting to her room; the wondering crowd was dismissed with vague apologies. And Willie-my Willie, only mine ,,ow,-learned from my lips what the-reader already knows. Hope and Despair! Though separated, ye are twin-sisters; and where one goes, the other is sure to follow! "Farewell, Nellie! God help me, for I am very miserable !'' That miserably scrawled note-how unlike hi- usual hand-writing-is all to tell that he has come, and gone, forever! This is the end of all those days of weary watching. Ilopeless Nellie! life stretches away, away into a dreary future-nay not life, exis-, tencc; that weary rising, and going down of the sun; those long, miserable blank days; that dull throbbing of a heart which irill na, stop, because you wi.,h it! Years pass away, and Willie is married. A fair young bride p.resides in that distant home of his. IHe makes her happy, for he is piure, and honorable. But, even when her voice is in his ear, when her hand clasps his, his heart who can control it 7--.wanders back to his boy hood's home ; to that " trysting place" in the dell; to that little cottage under the hill ; to a fair young face he may see no more ; to Nellie, the angel of his boyhood ! The loved of his 'youth ! And a friend has told her of his marriage, and whispered, oh, how unwisely, that there are moments of weakness in which Willie says, what 'tis crime to own, " By my own faults I lost the only woman I ever loved. I love her yet, only her. I shall love her always." And she, the unconscious bride, dreams not of this. IHeaven spare her the knowledge ! Nellie is dead ! A pure white stone points heavenward whither she has flownm! My home is in a distant city, but I have come back to those did haunts again. I seat myself on this tuoss-covered seat where Willie first told Nellie of his love. I wander over the lonesome hills where we three sang together, Iwaking their echoes with our glad young voices. One is silent in the grave-one only is left ! Iere hangs the vine, where he gathered gar lands to deck her forehead-I gather a few of the flowers, and scatter o'er her grave ! " Hero in moonlight often we have wandered Neath the silent shade; Now where leafy branches drooping downward Darling Nellie's laid." The stars which witnessed her betrothal, weep in silence over her grave in yonder lonely Oh! those old memories. They come back to me now-and bring me more ghostly spec tres of the dead past them ever haunted Rich ard's dreams. Every well known spot brings back sonic faded hope-every walk some per ished joy. The autumn winds are sighing over the desolate valleys, waking the spirits which slumber in the hill ; and chiming in with that Idesolateness of feeling which is stealing over my heart. Where are they-the playmates of my youth ? On earth we three shall meet never more ! The voices I have heard, greet me no more. TheI eyes I loved smile for me no longer. The hands| I have clasped will clasp mine never-never more ! Willie is a wanderer. Nellie's face has gone from my sight forever ! And " All alone may wvatch I'm keeping, In the hazel dell; For my darling Nellie's near me, skeping Nellie dear, farewell !" AUanTA. GA. From the Greensboro (N. C.) Times. "TM RS NOTHING TRUE BUT HEAVEN." By FINLEY JOHNSON. When in this world or grief and care The friends we love shall leave us; And they who have our confidence Maliciously deceive us: When from its calm'repose of love, The human heart is driven; 0, then we feel how true It is "There's nothing true but heaven." The rose we gather--in the morn When it the dew is drinking, May trampled be beneath the feet When stars alone are blinking; i ad when by cold and angry winds Its leaves from us are driven, We feel, though earth is bo-autiful " There's nothing true but heaven." The maiden whom we fondly love, With all of lovu's devotion, May prove as false and treacherous As waves upon the ocean; And when the heart with Its cruslh'd hopes, In vain, In vain hath striven, It bows before God's throne-and owns "There's nothing true but heaven" The trees within the forest's depths, The grass upon the sod, The flowers fair-oA which we trace The fingej of a God; All things in nature's vast domain Unto us mortals given, Goes but to pro-ve the well known truth, -There's nothing trne but heaven" "SOMBODY'S CO3ING." Well, let lihim come; but what need of this flurry ? Beimy's apron is clean; Su.y's dress was fron the drawer this morning ; why change them ? they are very neat, and just such as chil dren need to play in. You do not wish thena to sit still like sonany dolls while Mrs. Bird is here. A restraint will be ?nt on them with those nice dresses; they will neit her move grace fully, nor play freely, lest they rumple or soil 1 the fine things. No fanciful fixingO can beautify a child. Its I beauty is all innate; it cannot be put nit. Every- i thing about it whicj diverts the eye from itself, i by so much dimini;hes its loveliness. A child-why, the words are only a form of beauty. The word-Aild is 'the synonym of L b There I put J away these things-made and kept for show; now. the children are sweet. We recollect a I proof of sterling sense, noticed in the f1tnily of one of the Senators in Congress, from Maine the children werg drgssled in just the simple way in which these are dressed. The niter'al neat, plain, and strong, what they needed to play in, running about in the air as free as e lanibs and kittens. They were allowed to be i chilren-no attempt was made to show themoff Nay, do iot change your own dress ; it is at tractive in its tnodest gracefulness. The pretty figure on the calico is beconmning. Yes, it certain- 3 ly is cotton, and admirably adapted to a tidy house keeper. No; your friends will not feel that you are wanting in respect for them if you receive them in such a dress. It shows that you receive them as friendy, and wish to place them at ease. IC And you will retain ease and self-posse-sioni in that simple dress, to which you are flcu - tomed, that would be somewhat modified by the st ylish one0 maide for state occau.ions. Your husband will be protnd for his frientds to see that his wife is agreeable in a commton gown, and thak she does not depend, for orna rt, on jewels and the elaborations ofC dress. A new idea ? and you will try it ? Do. You will enjoy the society of your visitotrs twice as well. They will feel less restraint and nmore ordiality. You will thus, at t be outset, destroy in them all inclination to criticismt, anti yout will all be happier. What is the use of having richt dresses, if one is not to wear them, when company comes ? T'ruly, wh'lat is the use? except to benefit theC tnercant and the mechanic. Nobody loves youtt tore for your magnificence of apparel. All these extraneous ornaments are only so many. things interposed between you and thte hearts f others. . The same idea applies to your table. A few 1 ishes simply prepared, are mtore enjoyed thtan the costly viands which emupty the purse and make one lament the toil of getting up dinners. Oly remember-never apologize, as if simpli ity of food and dress wvas not just what is need ed-the very best. So you will save igealtht, spirits, and purse, while promoting sotcial enjoy ment a hundred fold.--afe lllustrated. . REVERIE OF A DRUNUARD. "I think ligntor's injuring me. It's spoiling tny temperament. Sometimes wet mad whmen I ami drunk, and abuses Betty anti the Bratts-It usedt to be Lizzie and the children-that's some time ago though, when I used to come home, she used to put her arms around my neck and kiss me, 1 anda call me dear William.C " When I come home now, she taikes her pipe out of her mouth, and puts her hair out of her eyes, and looks at me, an1. says something like, I " Bill, you drunken brute, shut the door afuer 1 you; we tare cold enongh, having no fire, with ut lettina' the snow %low in that way." " Yes, she's Betty anad i'm Bill now-I ain't C a good bill nuthar-'speek I'tm counterfeit ; won't pass-a tavern without going in anud get- I ting a drink. Don't know what batnk I'm on; last Sunday I was oni the river bank drunk. " I stay out pretty lati now, sometimes I'mu ut all night-tact is im out pretty much all over-out of friends, out of pockets, out at theat elbows and knees, and always outrageously dir ty so Bbtty says, but then shte's ntever clean her self. " There's one good quality I've got-I won't get itt debt, I never could do it.-There now,t ie of my coat. tails is gone got tore oft; I 'spect whet I fell down~ 'ere, i'll have to get a new suit soon. A fellow told mec the olther day I'd make a good sign for a paper mill; if he, wast so big I'd lick him. Iv'e had this shirt Ott forty nine days, and I'm afraid it wotn't come off with out tearing. People ought to respect mue miore I tian they do for l':n in hioly orders, I ain't no dandy, though my clothes is nearly all reslan style. I guess I tore this hole itn my parts bc hind, the other night when I sat down on a nail at carpenters shop, I've got to get it mended up, or I'll catch cold. Lend me three cents, will you? -Feel awful onesa clear away down in No. - gg"" Gently the duesar o'er me stealing," as the man said when lhe had five bills presented to himtf at oneo time. FUN FOR TIlHE HUMORIST. ZV A London witness having told the magistrate that he was pennman, was asked in what part of literature he wielded his pen, and he replied that he penned sheep in Smithfield market. E A few nights ago, Mr. Jones, who had been out taking hik glass and pipe, on going bome late, borrowed an umbrella, and when his wife's tongue was loosened, he sat up in bed, wmd suddenly spread out the paraplanie. "What are you going to do with that thing?" aid she. "Why, my dear, I expected a very heavy storm to-night, and so I came prepared." In less than two minutes Mrs. Jones was fast %sleep. Z A cute Yankee in Kansas sells liquor in a gun barrel instead of a glass, that he may tvoid the law, and make it appear beyond dis pute that he is selling liquor by the barrel. r You don't reem to know how to take me," said a vulgar fellow to a gentleman he had insulted. "Yes I do," said the gentleman, twisting him by the nose. E The wife of George Snow, of A rkansas, gave birth to three children July 26th. That tiust have been a Snow squall in July. EV A lady, who was a strict observer of Atiquette, being unable to go to church one Sun. Jay, sent her card. 3 "Come, Bob, how much have you :leared by your speculations ?" said a friend to is companion. "Cleared !" answered Bob, with t frown, "why, I've cleared amy pockets." 7 The woman who never interfered with ler husband's allairs arrived in town the other lay. She is unmarried yet. ZK A gentleman havinggiven a grand par y, his tailor was among the company, and was Ahus addressed by his l.rdship "My dear sir, I remember your face, but I orget yonr name." The tailor whispered, in a low tone-" I made our breeches." The nobleman, taking himn by the hand ex laimed " Major Breeches, I am happy to see you." "MIss 1Ers.."-Some years ago there lived n a neighboring comity. a fatily named W-. 'hey were poor, and lived in a humble cottage, >ut enjoyed :l the blsing< which niatnrally irose fromun the toil of their own hanrls. nver -vying. or dr-eaiigez of tle tr'easu:res of th -ich, until fortune favored them in the death of' L relative in 0lrH Virginia, which bronght them n possession of six or eight negroc4. (in the arength of the negroc-rs they were ,oing to get, ey bought a wagon and team, and started the ioys old Virginny to haul then ar jiggers mm. Ihey .ooni returnerd, and the family gave he darkies a hearty reception--so mneh .(o that bey surrenderedl their beds and chairs to them. The good oN ladv of the house, whom they alled Miss Bet-ey, was so delidited at her. ood fortune, she remained awake during the irst night after the arrival of them ar niggers. It short intervals she would 'call out to one of he iggers! " Il-a-n-n-n-a-h ! 0, II-a-in n-a-li " What von want, Miss Betsy ?" Nothing, I annah I! [ just wanted to hear ou call ie Miss Betsj !" A few days after, llannah was waslihng at the pring, when Miss Betsy would go to tihe door aid call out " 0. Ilannah !' " What you want, Miss Betsy ? "Nuthin, Hannah! I only wanted to hear -ou call me Miss Betsy from the spring! KolwiNG Wto 'ri KTMcr.-The late Colol 1 eClung, of Missislsippi, once got into ai i tie otice of' the Pirentice loiinse, ;I rg, with a rowdy, wlhe, to end the mat Ier %% ith mt further delay. he took tle rowdly hv tiht nap f the neck," led him to thedoor am kikifd him to the street. The kickee picked himself til. valkedl awav, and here thi miatter .ended. Some reks afterwards .\leCing was ini N-w (Orleanus, mud wiinii walking up St. Charlres st rue, satw the ellowv he hadl kicked ont oft ihue l'renitiz-e llinse, iking a t hirid paruty o, ~ut of a driinkinug saloon. deClung walked up to his iold aucquaintulaiwe, mee thme kickee, but now the kicker, and afte camiing himiu close1ly, said : " iok hierm. my Ii ,e ~llow, are yonu noet the moan i kicked ,iit of the ?rentice House', the ot her dayv ?"- Sfi lv. sof'iv, oloniel,"' replliedi the rowdy. taking .ukC:nmg byv he~ armi. "' du au'iiei ion it- l'm the manu-ht. -hit-you and1 1 knowi w'ho Io kick .~ " On ! Wu~ir A OnoN WAis ThAT!''-TwoI onntrvimeni, who' bore the aspest of' hiavinug been iorn a'nd rearied1 in the piney uods, eiitered, on esterday eveiing, one ut our city chiurcheis. h'hey wen tu1p ini to the palulery anud took a seat in the m'ediate vicinuity of the orgait. The organist omiiened using his skihl oiu it, cuigit to rat.ie out itS sweet mekcldious soumuis. Our rieds, ini rapt amaz~uemeint, sat. Their eyeballs trained to their utmost tenusion, s'emed as if ley would start in horror from their sockets, hist every hair oun their heads assnmed amn in legedent aind perpenidieular position. Thle or rniist huappeninig to strike a deepj bass note, oiir, ietds, with feair depicted on their blanuched outenances, in haste, made ia bee-line for the oor. As they arrived at the door.r, oneu of them aid to the other- "Good Lori Sam, u-huI a ron thadt was !"-Auust3a J)i4jualclh. Sois.-A Western statesman, ini omne of his ours in the far West, stopped all night at a touse where he was put in the same room with wenty strangers. He was very much annoyed y the snorimg of two persons. 'The black boy > the hotel entered the room, when onr narrator laid to him: " Ben, I will give you five dallars f you will kill that mant next to me, who snores o'dreadfully." " Can'~t kill him for five dollars, ut if moassa will advance on the price, I'll try hat I can do." By this time the stranger had ecased his nasal fury. The other waus nowv to be nuieted. So stepping on him he awoke him and aid : " My friend-he knew who he was-yof're alking in your sleep, antd exposing all the se mrets of the Brandoni Bank-lie was a director -you had better be careful." Hie was careful, r he did not go to sleep any morc that night. No TIME rua SwAretx.-A Indiana nian was ravelling down the Ohio on a steamer with a nuare and two-year old colt, when by a suudden !areen of the boat, all three wer'e tilted ito the iver. The Ihoosier, as lie rose, pulling ar~ 'low g above the water, caught hold of the tail of he colt, not havinig a doubt that the natural ini tinet of the animal votuld carry himt safo msharo, 'l'he old miare took a " bee line" for the shore, >t the frightened colt swami lustily down thle urret, with its ownier still h anging iast. " Let ;o the colt and hang on to the old maure hI" shonted >ne of his friends. " Phiree, booh !" exclaimed :he Hoosier, spouting the water from his mouth, td shaking his head like a Newfoundland dog, ' ts nIlghty tino, . iw' tollinug mno to let go the 'ot but to a maui tamat enn't swim, thais ain't c. ztly thi time jbr swappin.q haorses."' THlE DSAcoN'5 WEArNEss.-The uleacon of a hurch, upon whom a new puastor had been set :ed, was praising his many goodl qualities to the leaconi of a neighboring church. He declared, thuat the minister hiad but onacfault in the world, and that was a propensity to become a little quar reme tokn la goC drunk. GOOD COTTON PICKING.-Mr. W. . Davis, the experienced and skilful Superintendent of Dr. James J. O'Bannon's plantation, situated near the village, has furnished us with a list of the names of some of the hands on that place, and the number of pounds each picked on Thursday last, which we think pret ty fair picking. Grown hands picked from 230 to 310 lbs., and one girl, a No. 1 hand, picked 370 lbs. Ilands from 12 to 14 years of age, picked from 140 to 180 lbs., and little boys from 9'to 10 years of age, picked from 145 to 155 lbs.-Barnwell &nlinel. A friend who has been rusticating in the country for a few weeks past, in this county, informs us that thirty-four hands, on the plan tation of Mr. B. S. Bibb, on the 7th instant, picked an average of two hundred and sixty pounds of cotton to the h&d. Four of the number picked two thousand and fifty-eight pounds, to wit: William, five hundred and forty-nine; Abram, four hundred and seventy. nine; and Robbin, four hundred and forty three pounds-no night picking. The boy Wil liam, the day before, picked five hundred and eighteen pounds, Montgomery (Ala.) Mail, Sept. 91k. A subscriber at Midway, Barbour county, Ga., sends to the Columbus Sun the following result of a race at cotton picking in that neigh borhood, on the 7th inst. Four hands, two belonging to Dr. Batt Peter son and two to Caspar Jones, on a wager fur a Christmas egg-nog, on Tuesday, Sept. 7th, pick ed from sun rise to sun set, as follows: Jones' boy, Warren - - 732 lbx. " girl, Milly - - - 572-1304 Peterson's boy, Green - - 668 " Ike - - 636-1304 Total - - - - 2608 Average of 652 lbs. to the hand, and result, ing in a tie between the contestants. Several disinterested gentlemen were present during the day and the cotton was weighed by two of them. PEFAUTES AT 'rt No T.-The New York Jour. nal of Commerce says that the crop of peaches in New .lersey and Delaware seeirs to be failing every year, and that the fruit in that city this seamu has been very searce. It adds: It is a singular fact that at no time has the market been bettcr supplied this year than while the shipn:euts from the South continued, nor have prices been lower. Not less remarkable is the fact that Southern peaches continued in a sound condition long after other varieties, grown nearer hotme and plucked much more recently, became worthless from age. The experience of the pastsummnier will be likely to greatly stimi late .hipmenis from the South, in future years. The whulesale price of ordinary peaches is now abont $2 50 to $3 per (smaH) basket. Atretail, tie same fruit is sold at say twenty cents per quart, or about SI per bushel which only pays a reasun'dblo profit, risks and troubles considerd. .orris Vhites. fur preserving, which always bring high prices, are worth about four dollars'a basket. - THE WomEN DESEaTING THE Moauoxs.-!A letter to the Jeferson, 31o., Examiner, says that on the 13 of June, several Mormon traiis passed Camp Scott, on their way to the States. They were princill!y composed of women-of Scotch and English birth. The letter says: . They were all unanimous in their denuncia tions of Brigham Young ana his apostles, and talked of his sisassination by the Mormons who remained at Camp Scott, a sure event. They have all (without exception) become disgusted with Mormouism and renounced it, and expressed their determination from henceforth to use all their efforts for the total annihilation of Mormon isi. They express their desire to return to their native countries, and would, if they had the means to do so, in order that they might be instrumental in saving others from the baneful intilnence of Mormonism. On their arrival at Plattsmouth, on the Missouri river. they had cal culated to cross over to Council Bluffs; but the had condition of the roads in Iowa changed their resolve, and they are now dispersing them.selves in Kansas and Nebraska Terri tories. A fellow was arrested in Syracuse N. Y., on Wednesday lat, on a charge of vagrancy when he unburthiened himself of the following bud get, the latter part of which contains more ruth than poetry, and, is applicable to ceses occurring in many places besides Syracuse: 1 am not a vagrant, your honor ; far from it, sir. I am a gambler, and obtain my living that way; do you not remember, sir, the answer made by the pirate to Alexander, when he asked by what right he infested the seas ? His answer was, " by the same right that you con quered the world," but, said he, " I am called a robber because I conmmnand one small vessel, and you a conqueror becauso you command large fleets andi armies." It is just so with me, your honor ; I am a gambler in a small way, .nd you call mc a vagrant. Mr. B--, Mr. G- and Mr. P--, can buck against a faro bank, and bet their fifties and their hundreds, and you let them pass for gentlemen. I have no more to say. 1 can get no bail. I amn wil ig to go up. Tn Lowaa Cu.sss.-Who . are they ? DIe toiing millions, the laboring men andi woffnen, the farmer, the mechanic, the artisan, the inven tor, the producer? Far from it, says the Troy ludget. These are nature's tiobility-God's fa vris-the salt otf the earth. No matter wheth er they are high or low in station, rich or poor in pelt, conspicuous or humble in position, they are the 'upper circles' in the order of nature, whatever the factitious distinctions of society, fashionable or unfashionable decree. It is not low, it is the highest duty, privilege, and 'pleus ur, for -the great man and the whole-sould wo man to earn what they possess, to work their way through life, to be the architects of their own fortunes. Some may rank the classes we have alluded to as only relatively low, and in fact, the middle classes. We insist they are ab solutely the very highest. If there is a class of human beings on earth who may be properly de nominated low, it is composed of thenm who spend without earning, who consdme without produ cing, who dissipate on the earningrs of their fath ers or relatives without being or doing anything in and of themselves. A WEAL.-A whale was captured a few days ago near North river, in the Chesapeake bay. Its mouth when open measured thirteen feet from the under to the upper part. The tongue was as large as a commn door and as soft to the foot as a featherbed. The animal measures forty-three feet nine inches in length ; twenty seven in 'cir umference, nine.feet through, and the tail fi ten feet wide. AN EXA)MPLE FoR B ovs.-We have a earri connectedl with this office, who is between th ages of 13 and 14, who occupies a seat in th' highest class in our Public Schools, has th geography of the country at his fingers' en and who can cipher round a bevy of schoolm ters. and in two and a half years more, whi will make him sixteen, he will probably Cievo and flomer to boot. But in addition acquiremnents at school, he has three hun dollars in the Saviigs Bank, drawing five cent. interest, and is daily adding thereto,. gathered together by seijing newspapers betw school hours.-Trentlon True A.,w.g FLECTION NOTICE. In view of the approaching State Elections we would call attention, not only of the Man agers, but of all interested to the " Amendment of the fourth section of the first article of the Constitution of this State, passed the 20th day of December, A. D. 185G:" " Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives, now met and sitting in Gener nl Asseznbly, and by the authority of the same, That the amendment of the fourth section of the first article of the Constitution of this State, ratified on the 19th day of December, in the year of our Lord one thou.4and eight hundred and ten, be altered and amended to read as fol lows. Every free white man of the age twen ty one years, (paupers and non-Commissioned officers and private soldiers of the Army of the United States, excepted) who hath been a Citi zen and resident in this State two years previ ons to the day of election, and who bath a free hold of fifty acres of land or a town lot, of which he hath been legally seized and possessed at least six months befu e such election, or not having such a freehold or to .vn lot, bath been a resident in the election district in which he olfers to give his vote six months before the said election. shall have a right to vote for a member or members to serve in either branch of the [egislature for the Election District in which he holds such property, or is so resident." By this it will he seen that in additim to the Jice yars resident required by the Constitution of the United States-adopted Citizens must also reside aco years in the State to qualify them to vote.-Camden Journal. From the Sotth Carolinian. THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY. The Charleston Mercury, it is known to our readers, advocates the policy of sustaining the Democratic party. It does not, however, sus tain it with high hopes. In a recent article, it states its reasons for its lack of hope in the Con tinued success of the party. The following is the conclusion of its remnaks-we fully approve. Though disenting from its desponding views. we think the chances ore in favor of its snccess; provided the Stom hern winig holas the Northern up to a strict adhesion to principles, and de nounces such evasions as Douglas is practicing in Illinois: "In such a state of things, there is bnt one hope for any general party worthy of the sup port and association of the S->uth. The South imui restore the Constitution, and with it the D)emocratic party, to life, ly direct po.,itive re sitance and action on the first grave issue that arises, or she mst save hlerSelf from a remorse less Abolition despotism by leaving the Union. 1By an at'-ive coun.-e of resistance, a new issue will be forced upon the people of the North the issue of preserving the Union. On this .i sne, thorongbly raised, the Democratic party might again arise to power in the North, and the South succeed in the restoration of the Constitution to existence, and the enforcement of its principles to her safety and protection. But for us to rely submissively on the Demo cratic party at the North, demoralized and sec tioitlized, will be certain ruin to the party and deeply dangerous to the South. Of itself. the party c:nnot save the South or the Union. The South must save the party in the Union, or her self out of it. We are in the tide of mighty changes, and nothing but the rocks of disuanion made palpable to the people of the North can, by possibility, divert the current of events to the salvation of the D~emocratic party and the Union. Whether the future will afford the means of accomplishing this wonder at this late sage, remains to be seen. The chances are ex treiely doubtful. Let none blink their eyes to the truth, or hope against hupe." T:: F:: NEeMo NelsaNve.-We see it stated hat there are two ag-ents or commissioners of the Emperor ofi I avti now travelling in this country in order to inhdiee the free inegro population of our country to emiajgrat ti) t hat islanud, :nd a!so t) urge iU1,1111 tie maerchants of New Yurk and lIhstoin the adhvantaiges which A merienn coin. noree*4~ would daerivye ti-nm a line oaf pactku-ts hec tween Poart andl Prince and those cities. Wiih thea' irst naimed objeet we symat~ihisae most hear tilv. We hope, m'ost earneostly, that they will be eniinen~itly successful in relieving this country of thaut degradled portion of our population.-TIhe ree inegroes are an insoile-rable and an abomi iable unisancee wherever they are allowed to ex ist. Severatl-States have abuated the whoh>' Kan-. groo tribe, and we hope others will follow their exampijle, Pennsylvania, among the rest mnure es pci-aly. We hope to see the time when thaere' will be'no negroes in this country b~ut such as have legal and conlsttutionafl gnardeans to re stain their inasniferable arrogaince and unbhlush ing iimpudenice. We go for, the emigrationi sys temi, aind we are readly to contibute our mite to the fuirtheranice of the desired object.-Phlila. Burosis m ~'x.-Birdls are treated very kind ly th- re. They arc never killed for sport, and lit tle troughs are scooped out in the tomb-stones, which priests fill every morninig with fresh wa ter for their dlrink.-ouring the stay of Comnmo doe Perry's ships a inumaber of oflicers startedl oe day tat go gunning. As soon as the Japan se saw the cruiel murder of their birds, they wnit tao the Commodore and begged him to put a stop to such conduct. There was no more bird shooting in JIapan by Amnericani oflicers after that ; and when the treaty between the two coun tries was concludedl, one condition of it was. that the birds should always be protected. Take care of the birds. That is what the farmers sa we must do in this country. Unless we do, goodl by to the fruit, for the insects will get the upper h'and of us, and eat it up. Let the birdies live, and taey will not only cheer us by their beauty. ad their songs, but destroy the insects anmd pre serve our fruit. A clergyman eatechising the youth of his par ish put the first question in Heidelberg's Cate chiisnm to a girl: " What is your only consolation in life or death ?' 'The poor girl smiled, and no doubt felt very queer, bult gave no answer. The priest still in sisted. "Well then,'' said she," if I must tell, it is the little shoemaker that wears a striped jack IIor.v LIFE.--The beauty of holy lifei consti tutes the most eloquenat and effective persnasive to religion which one human being can address one to another. We hamve many ways of doiing good to our fellow men but none so efficacious as leading a virtuous, upright andi well ordered if. There is an energy of moral suasons in a good man's life-, passing the highest efforts of the orator's genius. The seen, lbut silent beauty of holiness speaka more eloqueiitly of God, and duty, than the toiigue of men and angels. Let parents remember this. The best inheritance parets can bequeath to a child, is a virtuous ex aple~l, a legacy of hallowed remembi-ances and associations. The beauty of holinmess beaming through the life of a lov'ed relative or frienul, is. more ehl'etual to strengthen such as do rstand in virtue's way, and raise up those t~at are bowed, Lh.- n..em comumand , ntraty and wm.n.