Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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" * - ? . , _ ; ~ . ' . *; - v " * *.'v. . . .? "* jf ???? ?? ' ^ . _g ' """ ' " ??i?*? i " ^ ^ ? , ^ ' , ^ ___ jno. l. miller & co., proprietor*.} An Independent journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. Jiewis m. oeist, pnbiuiwr. t VOL. 3. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THIJRSLA.Y, MAY 21, 1857. NO. 20. #ripial |j flffrg. | ? i For the Yorkrille Enquirer. y 0 ' TO A GOLDFINCH. I WHOSE MATE WAS PHOT NEAR M V ROOM THIS MORNING. 1 Poor, little, lonesome, thing! ' That callest for thy fallen mate in Tain, * That dost so sweetly sing, 1 And yet a sadness lingers in the strain. 1 Is thy heart broken ??is Thy tiny breast inhabited by woe ? Is there no genial bliss Remaining for thy lifetime here below ? Thus early in the spring ( Thy sister songster has been called away ; , And canst thou sweetly sing ( Thy happy notes of yesterday to day ! | , No ! no! thy lays must be Deep-fraught with sadness; every heart-wrung 1 tone < That from thy throat greets me 1 Bespeaks a sorrow yesterday unknown. ( Or is it joy or grief That swells thy bosom??Dost expeci thy mate j To come again? Ah! brief Are the best joys that beautify this state ! Cruel! he had no heart g Who interrupted, little one, the stream ] Of thy love! He will start, , Sometime, remorseful, from his heartless dream; ^ And wake to weep a flood * Of sorrowful and penitential tears!? 1 0, wretch! to spill the blood 1 Of a wee thing so full of youthful yeare I s So full of life, now dead! And thou a mourner left the woods to roam Alone! Thy peace has fled! ^ Thy home is lost! Then make my breast thy home! a My throbbing, aching, breast? a DoAAeStAmr o rloonoi* AtKyvj.lWMJ ?. -.V^v. b U From whence has fled the rest j. Of youth, and life, and hope, as frail as brief! j And brief as beautiful, ^ And beautiful as is the hope that they 1 Will come again to lull fc The restless spirit with a peaceful lay. b Then hush, sweet goldfinch! cease Thy sweet sad notes! Forget the heartless deed That wrung thy bosom's peace, And made thy tender loving spirit bleed. I too have lost my love! ? And blessed angels whisper me to come j Above the stars, above ^ The silvered clouds and find a peaceful home^ WILLIE. ,| Erskine College, April 28, 1857. * . j Caltfifiillagepfe. j ' b From Porter's Spirit. j "WHO KILLED JONES' DOG?" J Justice is a very necessary element of so- ti ciety?as necessary as milk is said to be in a c large family of small children. But justice g< is not very useful, unless its instruments are tl both honest and vigilant. There are all o sorts of instruments of justice, from that pon- ^ -i ii.j it.. o utrruus auair uuuuu tuc oupiuuic vuuit ui u the United States, down to the little wheel t< of a magistrate, that whirls and buzzes in a k country township; and, after all, they are all ^ but parts of one ponderous machine that tl grinds out, day and night, all over this k mighty republic, law and order for the Peo- w pie; at any rate, that is the theory, and has a been ever since the Revolution, back of si which the memory of man is not legally per 1 uritted to run, and, of course, does not run. o Out West, semiewhere, one of these little o courts attempted to settle the question? C "Who killed Jones' dog?" fi The "settlement" where Jones' dog was k born, and lived, and finally died, was a very sparse settlement, made up of all sorts of peo- ^ pie?hardly pioneers?who were troubled with but few local incidents; but these few n became the more important for that very rea- ^ son. Jones' dog was just as much of a fixture there, as Jones' boy. Everybody knew ^ Jones' dog, and the dog knew everybody in return. Jones' dog might have died in a g thousand places without creating a spasm in a society, but Jones' dog could not die a vio- ^ lent death in Buzzardtown, without shaking a the whole community from centre to circum- s stance. But so it was. The dog was found, one morning, with a bullet through his head, "clean gone," and the question arose, "Who killed Jones'dog?" n n Quimbly said Fog did it; Fog charged it . upon Quimbly. Bumper declared Hobbs ^ was the rascal, and Hobbs put it at the door of some other neighbor; indeed, all Buzzard- s town had an opiuion upon the subject, and j 0 expressed it, too, and it was not loug before v the people?men, women, and children? j \ had rubbed up each other's ears to blood jL i i i ^ l t.-i i r.. I ' neat, aau war uuany urune uui, uui uuu iu- j rious, all over Buzzardtown, and even ex- 1 tended into the suburbs. One inan, however, preserved a most dig- 1 nificd silence on the subject; he was the ma- ' gistrate before whom the question might ' come, and finally did come. When the dog question was alluded to, incidentally, before him, he pushed his hauds deep into his f breeches pockets, and looked wise, for he was , t a magiatrate, and why should he not ? and j i he gave the people to understand that his j s opiniou, if it ever was giveu, would be giv-11 en on the "bench," where such questions 1 must be finally decided. I s . Squire Bumbleton was, in some respects, i a very remarkable man. He was a justice n of the peace, and of course capable of decidiug 1 the question, "Who killed.Jones' dog?"? s He had many shining qualifications for the i < office which he held. He had a stoicism j "beyond all Grecian?ay, all Roman fame." i lie would set all day in the presence of a ; couple of pettifoggers, and permit them to fire ( into him their "arguments," alternating to I take breath, pass through two or three side- I fights, take a reasonable share of abuse himself, and reserve the case at last for decision, with his temper unrufiled, and his judgment unimpaired. Bumbleton, in fact, was in possession of those two great elements that are indispensable in a Western justice?silence and laziness. He never gave an opinion in public, 3r privately, "that was an opinion." His ly was a grunt, and his no was a grunt; but be was a very great man all over Buzzardtown, for that very reason. Bumbleton's *runt weighed a ton?particularly when he ;ave it emphasis by a scratch of the head. Tho nhnrpVi at. BiiT'/ardfnwn. hnwever. was arst convulsed with the question, 'Who killed Jones' dog ?' A dozen or more of its members were suspected, and they (the doz2n) suspected each other, and more charges were made. Tripes said Trimlet did it, rrimlet knew it was Tripes; Granderson was willing to swear it 'onto' Jodson over a stack )f Bibles as high as his head. Jodson wouldn't say Granderson 'zactly killed the log, but he would kill a dj>g, and lie faster :han the old Eclipse could run. Stokes rather jjuess'd Whedon's boy did it, but didn't enow nothin' 'bout it. Whedon's boy dejied it, and said 'Stokes was mad- at him, cause he thought he tied his pigs' tails together.' Old Aunt Farwell (who knew ev ything all over the settlement) said, 'her nind was just as well'settled on the point of vho killed that 'ere dog, as if she had seed he shootin' did; but she warn't goin' to say lothin' 'bout it.' Clark said 'the dog comnitted suicide." Jones declared to Clark that he was a liar/ and the great question itill was, 'Who killed Jones dog: The church sat twelve mortal days over rones' dog, day and night. It showed what ;ind of a dog Jones' dog was; how, when, >nd where it was born; its habits, character, ,nd propensities?very much after all, like ither dogs. All the hostility that had ever ieen exhibited, by word or deed, against rones, was brought out in strong relief and rbat was worse, before the meetin' closed, nstead of there being only one issue?"Who :illed Jones' dog ?"?side-issues innumera>le had sprung up, mostly questions of veacity which had grown out of the exatuinaion, and now Buzzardtown was in a tempest f fury, and its people were ready to tear ach other's eyes out. Mrs. Culpepper, a Bharp-nosed, weazenaced woman of fifty, waged war against Mrs. 'ikes, a sozzle of a body, because Mrs. Pikes eclared in church-meetin' that she wouldn't i'lieve nothin' any of the Culpeppers said bout nobody?from old Culpepper, through he old woman Culpepper, and clean down o the little Culpeppers. She wouldn't i'lieve a word from no Culpepper, not no iow?'bout Jones' dog?nor nothin.' (Mrs. 'ikes had a hatred against Mrs. Culpepper, iecause Mrs. Culpeppers's boy, Jabez, told Jrs. Pikes' boy, Ichabod, that his mother ras "small potatoes," and Mrs. Pikes said, [she know'd Mrs. Culpepper set her boy up o it.") . Mrs. Culpepper fired up, and prolaimed to all Buzzardtown, that "she never eed a Pike that was anybody?they were be laziest, slip-shod-est, shilly-shally-est set n the airth, she did b'lieve. Old Pikes rarn't nobody ; his wife, Sal Pikes, warn't obody, and the little Pikes were as near as wo peas like 'em; they'd all lie, that she now'd; and she guess'd they'd?wal, she rouldu't say it right out?but she guess'd bey'd?she s'posed there warn't no use eepin' in?she thought it, and she might as rell let it come?she guess'd they'd?t'was tough thing to say?she guess'd they'd 'eal?there, you've got it." And so Mrs. 'ikes and Mrs. Culpepper rubbed up each ther's ears, and fired hot shot into each ther's camp, and the Pikes boys and the lulpepper boys picked each others' sides, or a month or more, and all about?"Who ill'd Jones' dog ?" Mrs. Kinter had said in church-meeting hat?"owe night?she couldn't tell when -but'fore Jones' dog died't any rate?one ight she seed a man?with a gun?going 'ong?the road?on his shoulder?the man -gun?going 'long?one night?by Jones' ouse?and she heer'd a bark?and a fire of he gun, and she did not see no more?and he s'posed she must tell all she know'd? nd she would, if she died for't; and she i'lieved that man was Dobbins?and she llers would believe it, if a thousand men wore it warn't." Dobbins declared that it was a lie on the pot. "Whereupon Mrs. Kinter left the aeeting with a very red face, and war open-1 d between the Kinters and Dobbinses imaediately and furiously, and, as their farms oined, it resulted in a border-fight. Kinter sent home Dobbin's harrow, and hovel, and trace chain, and demanded his ix-yoke, hammer, and an old bag, all of ?hich he said he wanted "straight." Mrs. Winter hurried after her flat-iron and canlie-moulds, and wanted Mrs. Dobbins to i 'scud back that drawin' of tea as quick as I imp wmilrl 1r?f lmr nnrl tVio Ssiicom -WV J HWHII " iah Arabella Mary Dobbin, to bring home hat 'ere book she got of her Eliza Victoria, leavens knows bow long ago; and she hoped die shouldn't hear of a Dobbin agin the ongest day she lived." Dobbins told Kiuter "he must move his ence on the tine?and he could have jest wenty-four hours to think ou't?he had furlished him with a place for his fence about is long as he should?if he didn't, Squire 3umbleton would be 'arter him with hot docks, and he'd law him as long as he could ;ee a printer for forty miles round !" Kiuter advised Dobbins "to crack his vhip?and make his best jumps?and do lis very all-thunderest?and if he couldn't stand it as long as he could?why, he'd come lown, and surrender?that was all." So Dobbins did crack his whip?and did make his best jumps?and forthwith brought in action of trespass against Kinter in the 'high court," laying his damages at one thousand dollars, although the fee-simple of the land in dispute was not worth five?and the "dance was fairly opened" between the Kinters and the Dobbinses. Dobbins threw down the fence some fifty times during the pendency of the suit, because "he meant to be boss on his own land, if the d 1 stood at the door!" and Kinter put it up as often, "because he know'd the line; and his fence was his fence, and it should stand thar as long as there was a Kinter above ground that could peep; and if he died, he'd will his property to someone 'pon condition that he'd keep vp that 'ere fence !" Kinter's hogs and sheep came home with their tails chopped off, and Dobbin's came home with their tails chopped off a little higher up. IVinter's horses died suddenly, with strong symptoms of poison, and Dobbins' horses died suddenly, with like symptoms. Kinter's stack of wheat was burned, and Dobbins' went off by combustion soon after. Kinters' young timber was girdled, and Dobbins' was girdled too. Kinter, in fact, lost one half of his live stock, and Dobbins lost as much. The very dog;?the Kinter dogs and the Dobbins dogs?had caught the spirit of war that raged around them, and growled as they passed each other?and all about what happeued in that church-meeting?and yet the question was unsettled, 'Who killed Jones' dog?' Kites, one of the worthy soldiers in the Buzzardtown fight, made a descent upon Jim Sniffer, another worthy soldier, because Sniffer said (so AuntFarwell told hin\) that he (Sniffer) shouldn't be 'tall s'prised if Kites kill'd that 'ere dog his self.' Whereupon, Kites sued Sniffer before Squire Bumbleton 'to recover that 'ere little balance of thirty one cents that Sniffer owed him on that 'ere note agin him?and, also, whereupon Sniffer, in defence, plead a set off, 'three dinners that Kites had eaten at his table'?bv invitation, to be sure, at the time ?but, thee, as Sniffer said, <la' is la', and if Kites wanted to go in for the last copper, he'd find him on hand and doin* about as airAy in the morning as the next man!' At last Jones concluded he had found his man?the villain who had killed his dog? and he owed it the peace of the community, as well as himself, to prosecute before Squire Bumbleton, and thus settle the vexed question. It was quite clear that Buzzardtown would blow itself all to pieces, like a bombshell, unless something definite was done.? The evidence upon which he relied was circumstantial?more in circumstances, in fact, than in proof?but Jones thought it would do to start upon, particularly, as he had concluded to offer a reward of ten dollars to any man, woman or child, who would furnish conclusive evidence of the fact?the person so furnishing the evidenee to be released from all suits and actions of every name and nature arising out of the transaction. This reward and release was afterwards reduced to writing, and publicly circulated all over Buzzardtown, and, finally, filed with Squire Bumhleton. with the ten dollars, for the benefit of whom "it might concern." This man was Hoscraft?Jo Hoscraft? between whom and Jones a feud long existed, as bitter as that between the Egjptians and Israelites. Jones knew that Hoscraft "must?have?kill'd?that?'ere dog!" and Jones declared this with great emphasis. He had no legal proof against Hoscraft?but, "then, of course, Hoscraft killed the dog? nobody else could have killed his dog, aud, therefore, he employed Mike Briar, a Buzzardtown pettifogger, to bring the suit against Hoscraft before Squire Burableton ; and suit was accordingly brought, Jones pledging himself to carry it into the Supreme Court of the United States?but "he'd nail him if it cost twenty farms!" Mike Briar was a character?lie was a crier, a pettifogger, horse-trader, politician, general counsellor, &c., &c.?a kind of walking omnium gatherum. His dress was full of the man?his clothes seemed to have caught a part of his soul?and had become electrified from its sparks through his body. Iiis hat rim turned up in front, and ran off behind like a roof?his eyes shot up on a line with his hat rim, and when he walked, his whole body seemed to be pushing after his eyes, as if he was in danger of going out of his suspenders. He moved and spoke by jerks, and was as busy all over the .settlement, day aud night, as the old fellow is said to be in a thunder storm. Wc have already spoken of Squire Burableton, of his qualities, and the weight of his grunt. But the Squire was very stubborn on the 'bench,' withal, and was never kuown to be moved from his position, lleasons he uever gave. His decisions were brevity itself?as for instance, 'motion's squash'd !' 'that are's rul'd down !' ' 'jection ain't good !' 'won't hear that proof!'( 'taint legal!' 'that's all stuff!' but he never was known to cut short an argument, if it was opened upon him for the fiftieth time, during which lie slept and smoked by turns. The great liuzzardtown law suit, at last, came off. It did not seem as if Joues' dog was about to have justice done him. The day was dedicated, by man, woman and child, to the occasion, and Squire Bumblcton's office was packed, inside and out, long before the hour had arrived. The Jones men and the Iloscraft men were on the ground, 'cocked and prira'd,' to use their own language. Several side fights occurred, as a kind of preliminary exercise to the action in prospect, between different factionists, about matters in controversy and not "in controversy. Ouc very serious one upon the point: whether the ball entered the near side or the off side of the dog's head ? which was forever unsettled, as the ball had passed through the dog's head. A number of personal issues were up afresh, that were supposed to be dead and burried. Brown knocked over Bentley, because Bentley told Brown, three years before, that he lied. True, they had both forgotten it, until the dog war had aroused it with interest. Clark told Nippin his boy was a thief; Nippin kicked Clark; and Switzler, Clark's friend, and a member of the same faction, kicked Nippin because Nippin kicked Clark; and Snooks, Nippin's t friend, 'laid out' Switzlpr, to 'prevent a general row,' he said?loudly calling for a peace ' officer all the time?peace, however, being the very last thing Snooks wanted. Mike Driar's declaration, filed before Squire Bumbleton, was a verjt threatening and fearful instrument. It'bristled all over. It set , forth, among other things, that Hoscraft, ' by instigation of tbe devil (Mike's orthography was his own), and agin the peace and dignity of the people, and with tnnlis forctho't, with a gun, pistle, 'nife, club, stick, stone, or some other (/onerous thing, shot, cut, knocked, smashed, or iu some other way, killed Jones' dogj-to Jones' damage of one hundred dollars." Mike had picked this all out from precedents of indictments and declarations, so as to make it strong as he said. He had ten counts, but the whole were substantially the same; but Mike wanted his papers 'lawyer-like.' 'Old Dot-and-go-one' put in the plea. This was a name the defendant's attorney had acquired in Buzzardtown. He was a woodenlegged man?a superanuated justice, who was somewhat in years, and he had taken to fVm tViiv* 9 TTn nrnnfion/1 of ?i 11 tlin iVkOfQ* in KI1V UUli lib piUUVlObU uv uu mv UUIO IU the country?before the landlords and the justices?and was equally able at either. Mike Briar called up the suit and opened the case, and put Tabitha Tweedle on the stand. She was a woman of about fifty years of age, raw-boned, took snuff incessantly, and evidently had a story to tell. "Know Jones?" inquired Mike. "Yees," answered Tabitha. "Hoscraft ?" "Yees." "The dog?" "Yees." "Well, whatdo you know 'aboutthe dog?" "Object to that!" exclaimed attorney for defendant; "the dog ain't no party here." After a longargument,Bumbleton decided that the dog was a "kinder party" to the suit. "Wal," continued Tabitha, "you want to know all 'bout Jones, and Hoscraft, and thj^ 'ere dog. To begin, then : Mrs. Jones ana old Mrs. Brown?Mrs. Jones, you know, was a Curtis 'fore she got married; old Sim Curtis' darter?lived down on the Mohawk; that is, Mrs. Jones lived down on the Mohawk; the darter was born in Buzzardtown; let me see, she must be twenty-five years old, enymost?and as I was saying, Mrs. Jones and old Mrs. Brown?pshaw ! Mrs. Jones is tnoi'n twenty-five years old; what am I thinking'bout, she's thirty, sartxn; 'cause my 'Liza aud she's 'bout of ah age, and my 'Liza is?is?is?Mr. Tweedle ! Mr. Txcecdie! how old is our 'Liza," inquired the witness, and the old lady rose from her seat and peered through the crowd for Mr. Tweedle. A voice camestruggling through the mass of people, but no Tweedle was seen?"Dun know!" "Don't?know?how?old?our'Liza is! Dear me !" and Mrs. Tweedle sat down. "Mrs. Tweedle," exclaimed Mike, 'what do you know about that dog?" "Jest coming to that," exclaimed Mrs. Tweedle. 'Don't be in such a pesky hurry; ! let a woman breathe, won't ye ? Mrs. Jones and old Mrs. Drown " "Don't say Jones and Brown agiu," snapped out Mike. 'Talk about that doy.' Mrs. Tweedle said, 'she should tell the truth, and talk about Jones, or Mrs. Jones, and all the Joneses, if she wanted to. As I J was saying," continued the witness Tweedle told the witness to 'stop !' Squire Buuibleton said she might 'go on.' | "As I was saying?Mrs. Jones aud Mrs. Brown?that is. Wal, now, thar) you've jest put me out, and I don't know nothing ( where I was. I wish the dog was in Ballyhak. (Here she took snuff violently.) Wal, at any rate,' said she, rallying, "the dog is dead, that's a fact; and Mrs. Quipes told me that Cinda Clark told her ' "No hearsay evidence here!" cried old Dot-and-go-one. "No hear-say ! no hear-say evidence !" .repeated Mrs. Tweedle?'can't tell what ' you've hcerd; 'tuin't la', ha!?then I guess you can do your own swearin', I shan't. I didn't sec no dog killed.' And Mrs. Tweedie took another pinch of snuff, blew a significant blast from her nose, and left the 1 stand, muttering to herself, 'Can't tell wha^ 1 you've heer'd!' J , ] "Hurrah for old Mre. Tweedle !" cried j two or three of the Jones party, as she re- j tired under flying colors. Squire Bumbleton started up from a doze, | filled his pipe afresh during the excitement, gave a grunt, shifted his legs, and leaning 1 back, tranquilly blew out long jets of smoke from the right corner of his mouth. Joe Racket was the next witness called. Joe was a 'swift witness,' in every sense of the word. He came driving through the < multitude, and presenting himself before the 1 magistrate, with his hat and overcoat on, I raised his right hand and exclaimed : 'Go ' ahead, squire!' 1 "Name ?" inquired Bumbleton. I "Joseph W. Racket?W. stands for Wa- I ters?Joseph Waters Racket?mother was a 1 Waters?'long'd to York State Waters? 1 Sch'harie Waters " 1 "That'll do," said the squire. i Joe was sworn, and before the oath was < fully administered, he launched out like an ] arrow, without waiting for any questions, as ] follows: I "Know Jones?know Iloscraft?live clus < near one another?Jones young man, Hos- i craft older?have seed the dog?part bull, i part terrier?good for cows, bad for sheep? i Jones and Iloscraft quarrel'd 'bout geese? i Hoscraft's geese came home picked?Hos- i craft said Jones picked 'em?Jones said it ' was an infernal lie?was down to Hoscraft'a tother night?said I to Hoscraft, said I, how i do you and Jones make it now ?" < "Hold on!" exclaimed old Dot-and-goone, in a voice of thunder. 'No he didn't' continued Racket?'didn't say nothing 'bout holdin' on?Hoscraft and Jones never did hold on?they were goin' it. Said he?that is, said Hoscraft?said nHaHaaMHHnMHwmmmmmmmmmm he to me, 'after the old sort'?fire and tow all the while, said I?'and there'll be more fire than tow by-and-by/ said he?and that is all I know?got an ap-/?iW-raent down at Deersville at 2 o'clock?half-past one now? witness fees a quarter, 'spose?Squire can credit that." Whereupon Racket made a dive for the door; but the defendant's attorney, who had become magnetized with wonder, having recovered, called him back for cross-examination. Old Dot-and-go-one might as well have attempted to cross-examine a streak of lightning. Racket, in answer to his questions, only told the old story over again, word for word; and he was finally abandoned. Sim Peters came next. "What do yon know about Jones' dog?" \i:i_ luijuireu lui&e. ''Don't know nothin' 'boat Jones' dog, nor anybody else's dog?never take notis to dogs?ain't no kind of a dog man, not no how?if it bin a bos', now I'd been at home ?then I could er spread myself like an eagle?but dogs! ain't nothin' on that.? Can't do you any good, Squire?no use." And Sim left the stand. Mrs. Culpepper was introduced. "She didn't know much about dogs, nuther; but she guess'd she know'd the Pikes, and if any of them critters were goin' to be sworn on this 'ere trial?(Here old Pike screamed out, 'take care old 'oman?have you jugged up, fust thing you know. Better mind your p's and q's.') Mrs. Culpepper rather tho't she know'd what she know'd; and she .should say it, too, if Beelzebub stood at the door. No Pike could scare her?she warn't afcard of a hull army of 'era, not she ?so he could jist stop his yelling nt her while she was a swearin'; and she would say that if any of them ere Pikes were goin' to be sworn, she was oh hand for 'era?loaded!" Mike inquired what she knew 'bout the dog. "Wal," said Mrs. C., 'I did'nt come for that, and can't swear 'bout the dog !' She had come as a <Pike witness; and if she was a _ i j1 _ i i n i i <1 wanieu, mey wouia nna ner mar, every time.' Many more witnesses were sworn, but they did not throw any ray of light on the case. At last, a rough, knotty*looking specimen of humanity was called, known as Bill Weevil. His hands were in his breeches pockets, his mouth full of tobacco, his hair in confusion, and he occasionally hitched up his pantaloons, that had worked down so far that his shirt had bulged out between them and his vest. After the reward of ten dollars had become public, Bill bad managed to get his name on the subpoena as a witness; for he knew that he was the man to 'carry off the succors'?to use his language?when he was first informed of the tempting bait set before him. Bill came on with a confident swagger, was sworn, and took his seat, revolving his quid rapidly around his mouth. Mike Briar wanted to know if ho knew anything about that dog.' "I should?rather?think?I did," answered Weevil, slowly and deliberately, looking at the ceiling, and stretching out his feet full length. "Out with it," continued Mike. "He was shot," said Weevil. "Know'd that afore," said Mike. 'Who shot him V Bill thought a moment. 'Squire,' said he, it last, 'that is a sorter lcadin' question? Jon't know 'lout auswerin'.' ? You're, safe !" said Bumbleton ; 'ten dollars reward, and a general release of all ac lions against you.' "Jestso," replied Bill. 'Money on hand, Squire ?' "All on deposit, and gold at that!" "Who?shot?the?dog?" muttered Bill, slowly. 'Squire, jest let me see that 'ere money, and that other what-do-ye-call-it.' Squire Bumbleton put the paper andmonjy into the hands of the witness. "Who shot that dog ?" muttered Bill a*ain. "Yes!" roared a dozen. 'Out with it? tell, or say you can't.' "Wal," said Bill, '7tliot him!' And the whole court-room was in an uproar in a moment?the Hoscraft faction screaming at the top of their lungs, the Joneses swearing, Mike Briar sitting half paralyzed, old Dot-and-go-one stamping w'th bis wooden leg, and Squire Bumbleton grunting and scratching his head ; in the midst jf which Bill Weevil 'shot the pit,' with his ten dollars and release of all actions. But it is a question to-day whether Bill Weevil shot Jones' dog or not. COKK. Many persons see corks used daily withjbt knowing whence come those useful materials. Corks are cut from large slabs of the cork tree, a species of oak which grows wild in the southern countries of Europe.? ; rhc tree is stripped of its bark at about six- 1 teen years old; Dut before stripping it off, the tree is not cut down, as is the case of the _ 1 ? T1 mem l*%l*emmm ?vif 1a lu f> lfl f /\ttt1 T\ /"? Jan. it is ui&eij vrii:ie i>uc ucc ia ^ivniug, ind the operation may be repeated every sight or nine years; the quality of the bark continuing each time to improve as the age of the tree increases. When the bark is taken off, it is signed in the flames of a strong Bre, and being soaked for a considerable ! time in water, it is placed under*heavy 1 weights, in order to render it straight; its ! extreme lightness, the ease with which it can be compressed, and its elasticity, are properties so peculiar to this substance, that ] o efficient substitute for it has been discov- ' ered. The valuable properties of cork were ; known to the Greeks and Romans, who employed it for all the purposes for which it is Qsed at the present day, with the exception of stopples. The ancients mostly used cement for stopping the mouth of bottles or vessels. The Egyptians are said to have made coffins of cork, which, being spread on the inside with a resinous substance, preserved dead bodies from decay. Even in modern times, cork was not generally used for stopples to bottles till about the seventeenth century?cement being used until then for that purpose. Correspondence of the Charleston Courier. THE MEMPHIS JUBILEE. On /hp 4th instant, whpn t.hp stpampr John Simons landed at Vicksburg on her voyage from Memphis to New Orleans, it becoming known to the passengers that Oen. Quitman had come on board, the Georgia and South Carolina Delegations immediately determined to testify their respect for his distinguished military and political services. The Hon. Solomon Cohen, on the part of the Georgians, and Gen W. E. Martin, on the part of the Carolinians, were appointed to represent their respective delegations.? Gen. Martin said: General Quitman?We have on board a large number of Georgians and Carolinians, now returning homeward from the Memphis celebration. This suspicions event commemorating the union?of the Atlantic and the Mississippi, has been the occasion of many agreeable incidents, and has led to the formation of acquaintances, many of which we trust may ripen into great freedom of intercourse. The unusual spectacle of so large a number from the Atlantic States in our boat, on this mighty stream, is at the same time the result and the illustration of this union of iron bands. But of all the agreeable incidents, to which this excursion hasgiven rise, where many will be remembered with plea sure, nothing has gratified us more than the accession to our circle afforded by your presence. The occasion and the hour will not justify me in lengthened remarks, nor would they be suitable under any circumstances. This demonstration is spontanous on the part of yourffellow citizens; we design a hearty and heartfelt offering. You could wish no more?we could give no less. . As Southerners, we greet you, the defender of the rights and the equality of the South; your uniform, consistent, fearless advocacy of our institutions merits our admiration and our gratitude; we beg you to be assured, that our sentiments are those of the people we represent. But, sir, dear as you are to us as a Statesman, there is a still more tender tie that binds Carolinians to you; we never, no never can forget, that under your leadership the Palmetto Begimcnt marched to glory aud the grave. There was Butler demanding for his Regiment a <place in the picture'-Dickinson who would be "nearer the flashing of the guns" ?and Gladden received the Standard from his dying commander, and bearing to victory ?and your friend, the lamented Brooks, and others equally brave, whose names time would fail us to mention. Led by the ?Southern Chic/," the epitaph of the dead may well be that of Argyle? There was glory in his eye, And he never inarched to battle More proudly than to die. Acain. Sir. on the nart of the South Ca o / / I rolinians here present, I assure you that we are much gratified by the opportunity of extending to you this greeting. Mr. Cohen rose and said : Gen. Quitman?We are now returning from the grand celebration at Memphis, which has just been concluded, in commemoration of the union of the mighty Atlantic with the majestic river on which we now float, and derive much pleasure in meeting with one so closely allied to us in all things that bind man to man. In thus meeting you, sir, a warm advocate of Southern rights, on our return to our homes, it seems a happy coincidence, for I look with pleasure and the most happy anticipations upon this union of the Southren Atlantic with the valley of the Mississippi, not so much for its commercial advantages, great though they be, as for the cementing together States united by community of interest, of feelings, and of institutions?institutions against which the whole civilized world are now madly arrayed. ^.But, sir, I may not, on this occasion amplify; and again express to you our heartfelt gratification at meeting with one so distinguished in the field for calm bravery and noble daring, and in the halls of legislation for a patriotism that must ever command our respect and love. General Quitman responded as follows: Ladies and Gentlemen:?I have just returned from the swamps of the Mississippi, and little expected a demonstation so flattering as that which has just taken place. I cannot but feel proud at meeting so many of my fellow-citizens from the Atlantic seabrtorrt TTnfil verv lntolv. tho ftit.iranfl of mv own State have beep better acquainted with those north and north-west of them than with their brethren of South Carolina, Georgia and Alabama. This has been altogether owing to the fact that the great connecting routes have led them necessarily in another direction. This is now happily obviated by the completion of the Memphis and Charleston Rail Road, which is very properly a fit subject of congratulation, politically as well socially and commercially. Since 1832, I have been more or less connected with the leading men of South Carolina and Georgia, and have always acted with them in the halls of public legislation for our common interests and institutions, and can say frankly, that I have ever found them?conservative?public spirited. I have always acted with my party as far as I could, but have ever been ready to raise my voice in behalf of the much abused State of South Carolina. I am peculiarly gratified in being spoken of in connection with the Palmetto Regiment, whose daring and impetuosity won for them an honorable position on many a hardfought field in Mexico. You have been pleased, gentlemen, to allude, in complimentary terms, to my public services. I thank you for your appreciation of them. For 30 years it has been my aim and purpose to maintain the equality of the Southron States of this Union. I claim no greater merit than to have expressed my sentiments freely, frankly, boldly, without regard to const* quences. It was remarked by the gentlemen from Georgia, (Mr. Cohen,) that the world is in arms against ns on the subject of domestic slavery, hnt with the cotton plant, n fertile country, and slave labor, we havebnt to be trne to ourselves to maintain onr position regardless of consequences. I say to yon, gentlemen, that it is onr doty to maintain onr equality at any. and every hazard. You have been pleased to refer to my pubTie sevices in Mexico. I see among you an old friend?a native of Georgia?a member pf the gallant Alabama Regiment*?and, if an ?LI. tuuiiji uau wccu auuiucu hi ium uwiv band from Georgia equal to those enjoyed by others, they would have won as many laurels, and worn them as gracefully, as anv in the service. Of the South Carolina Regi* ment, I am in a condition to speak as of those under my immediate oommand, and I baft no hesitation in saying that a braver set of men never faced an enemy in the field.? There was Butler, my friend, the impersonation of chivalry, and Dickinson, Gladden and Brooks, than whom never did braver then wear an epaulette, and so was the Regiment One of you, gentlemen, have referred to me as the father of the Regiment. I desire no more honorable title than that of the "Southern Chieftain." Identified with the South in my. feelings, hopes and aspirations, I link my destiny with her now and forover. In conclusion, gentlemen, allow me again to thank you for your kind and cordial reception. Geo. Quitman was then presented to the ladies on board, and a large number of gentlemen from South Carolina were introduced to him. It was then on motion of Mr. IjL Sebring, seconded by Mr. J. L. Patterson, Ordered,, That the thanks of this meeting be returned to the Chairmen for the happy manner in which they had performed the duty assigned to them. And was further > Ordered, That these proceedings be pub; lished in the New Orleans Delta and Charleston and Savannah papers. . . W. A. COURTENAY, Secretary South Carolina Delegation. EDWARD G. WILSON, - Secretary Georgia Delegation. We gave six cheers for "the Southern Chieftan," as he jumped on the Bluff a} Natchez, and three more for Jeff. Davis. Mayor Goode Brian, Augusta, Ga. Loveliness.?It is not your neat dress; your expensive shawl, or your pretty fingers that attracts the attention of men of sense. They look beyond these. It is true loveliness of your nature that wins and continues to retain the affections of the heart. Young ladies sadly miss it who labor to improve their outward looks, while they hestow not a thought on thojnind. Fools may be won by gew gaws and fashionable showy dresses] but the wise and substantial are never caught by such traps. Let modesty be your dress. Use pleasant and agreeable language, and though you may not be courted by. the top and the sop, the good and truly great will love to linger in your steps. , J65~ The Augsburg Gazette affirms that the village of Madana, which is about 60 English miles from Rustschuck, in Wallachia, has been inhabited by women only, for the last 30 years. At one period this female nonulation was 200. The ladies have not ff T been warriors, like the Amazons of old, bat have avoided all intercourse with men, and drive from their territory all who appear with matrimonial intentions. This anti-social Battlement is now on the decline; no more recruits are made from the disappointed or the love crossed, and the population is rapidly decreasing. V Is Virtue Hereditary??Is a lore of truth, justice and goodness transmitted from parents to children? Facts appear to answer these questions in the affirmative. In England, it has been ascertained that out of one hundred criminal children, sixty were born of dishonest parents; thirty'of parents who were profligate, but not criminal; and only ten of parents who were honest and industrious. The rule is, virtuous parents raise virtuous children. Not more than one out of eveiy ten criminals has been born of honest, religions parents. The characters of parents and children are nearly as much alike as their features. Gloves.?Nothing more beautiful than the neat gloved hand of a lady?except a beautiful hand without the glove, and to this complexion we fear may come at last?for a letter from Paris says thai 'gloves, which are one of the necessaries of female attire, have become so dear within the last few yeari as to be now one of the most expensive items of the toilette. The first manufacturer of Parisian gloves, and one of the most reasonable, has raised, within the last few weeks, the gloves with one button to four francs; and those with two buttons to five francs. The nkiiis are becnmine' rarer, and const quently much dearer.' 1&*'I hare found/ says Addison, 'that the men who are really the moat fond of ladies?who cherish for them the highest respect?are seldom the most popular with the sex. Men of great assurance, whose tongues are lightly hung?who make words supply the places of ideas, and place compliment in the room of sentiment?are their favorite* A due respect for women leads to respectful action towards them; and respect is mistaken by them for neglect or want of love.' J?* When Croesus, in -Herodotus, suggested to Cyrus the means of making the Lydian subjects harmless for warlike purposes, he advised him to teach them to ring, todanoe, and to open retail shops, as the-surestof all methods for destroying their pristine manli* ! ?. T ness. 4 _ ^