Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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jno.i. miller &co.,proprietor..j An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. jlewisk.oeisi,p?burt?. VOL. 3. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, A.TJGTJST 13, 1857. NO. 33. ? ??nr????b?i?? |i Hail-flab Sfetfrj. CHANCES AND CHANGES. A RAILROAD REMINISCENCE. "I say, Mr. Conductor, when will the next express train go to St. Louis ?" "Eleven o'clock and thirty minutes tonight, sir," was the gentlemanly reply to the rough query. "Eleven o'clock and thirty minutes! , Go to Texas! Why it's ten this very minute. I'll bet my boots against a jack-knife the morning express is off!" "Yes, sir, it has been gone half an hour." "Why in natur didn't you get us there sooner? Fourteen hours in Chicager is enough to break a feller to smash. Fourteen i /-it nr Jli ! l Tt nours lu unicager, pumng ana mowing: i ve been told they keep a regular six hundred hoss steam power all the while a runnin' to blow themselves up with, and pick the pocket of every stranger to pay the firemen and engineers! Wall, I guess I can stand it; I've a twenty that's never been been broke, I think that'll put me through.. Why don't you fire up, old brag?give your old hoss another peck of oats. I tell yc, this fourteen hours ill knock my calculation into the middle of next week." "Very sorry, but we've done our best; but as we are not clerks of the weather, I hope you will not lay our misfortunes to our account. Snow drifts and the thermometer sixteen degrees below zero are enemies we can't readily overcome." "That's so." said the first SDeaker. with ' 4 ' broad emphasis, and a good natured, forgiving smile. "Fourteen hours in Chicagev." The stentorian voice, sounding like a trumpet, had aroused every sleeper from elysian dreams into which he might have fallen, after his long, tedious, cold night's travel.? Every head was turned, every eye was fixed on the man who had broken the silence. He was standing by the stove, warming his boots. To have warmed his feet through such a mass of cowhide and sole leather, would have been a fourteen hours' operation. Six feet four or five inches he stood in those boots with shoulders (cased in a fur coat) that looked more like bearing up a world than you will meet with ordinarily in half a lifetime. His head Websterian, his shaggy hair black as jet, his whiskers to match, his dark piercing eye, and his jaws eternally moving, with a rousing quid between them, while a smile of good humor, notwithstanding his seeming impatience, attracted every one's attention. "Fourteen hours in Chicager, eh ? Wall, I can stand it if the rest can; if twenty dollars won't carry me through, I'll borrow of my friends. I've got the things that'll bring CUI* xuai a av. And he thrust a hand little less in size than a common spade, down in the cavernous depths of a broad striped, flashy pair of pants, and brought up that great red hand, full as it could hold, of shining twenty dollar gold pieces. "Don't yer think I can stand these 'ere Keicagers for one fourteen hours ?" A nod of assent from three or four, and a smile of curiosity from the rest, answered his question in the affirmative. "You must have been in luck, stranger," said an envious looking little man. "You've more than your share of gold." "I have, eh ?" Wall, I reckon not. I came honestly by it. That's so. And there's them who remember this child when he went round prairies trapping prairie hens, and the like, to get him a night's lodging, or a pair of shoes, to keep the massasaugers from biting my toes; I hung myself up more nor one night in the timber, to keep out of the way of wild varmints; best sleeping in the world, in the crotch of a tree top. Now, I reckon you wouldn't believe it, but I've gone all winter without a shoe to my foot; and lived on wild game when I could ketch it. That's so 1" "Didn't stunt your growth," said a voice near. "Not a bit of it. It brought me up right. These prairies are wonderful roomy; I thought one spell I would let myself out entirely, but me and mother held a corcus, and decided that she was getting old, and blindlike, it tuk too long and cost too much to sew up the legs of my trowsers, and so I put a stop to it, and concluded that six foot five would do for a feller that couldn't afford the expensive luxury of a wife to make his breeches. It was only my love for my mother that stopped my growth. If I'd a had a idea of a sewing machine, there's no telling what I might have done." "You have so many gold pieces ir. your pocket, you can afford to get your trowsers made now. Why don't you and your mother hold another caucus, aud see what you can do? If she would let you expand yourself, you might sell out to Barnum, and make a fortune traveling with Tom Thumb, and take the old woman aloug." "Stranger," said the rough, great man, and his whole race loomed up with a mingled expression of pain and pride. ''Stranger, I spoke a word here I didn't mean to; a slightly word, like, about my mother. I would give all the gold in my pocket to bring her back for one hour, to look upon this country as it is now. She had her cabin here when Chicager was nowhere; here she raised her boys?she couldn't give them laming, but she taught us better things than books can give; to be honest, and useful, and industrious. She taught us to be faithful and true; to stand by a friend, and be generous to an enemy. It's thirty years, stranger, since we dug her grave by the lake side with our own hands; and with many a tear and sob, turned ourselves away from the cabin where we'd been raised?the Indians had killed our father long before, and we had nothing to keep us?and so we went back to seek our fortunes. My brother, he took down to St. Louis, and got married down thar; and I just went where^the wine blowed, and when I'd got money enough to gether, I cum back and bought a few acres 01 land around my mother's old cabin, for the place where I'd lain her bones was sacred, like. Well, in the course of time, it turned up in the middle of Chicager. I couldn'l stand that, I loved my old mother too wel to let omnibusses rattle over her grave, so ] cum back about fifteen years ago, and quiet ly moved her away to the buryin'ground: and then I went back to Texas, and wrote tc an agent to sell my land. What cost a few hundred to begin on, sold for over forty thousand?if I'd kept it till now, 'twould have been worth ten times that; that's so; but I got enough for it. I soon turned that forty thousand into eighty thousand, and that into twice as much, and so on, till I don't know nor care how much I'm worth; that's so. I work hard) am the same rough customer, remembei every day of my life what my mother taught me; never drink nor fight; wish I didn't swear and chaw; but them's got to be a kind o'second natur' like, and the only thing troubles me is my money?haven't got nc wife nor children, and I'm going now tc hunt up brother and his folks. If his boys is clever and industrious, ain't ashamed oi my big boots, and old fashioned ways, and his gals is young women and not ladies; il they help their mother and don't put on mor'n two frocks a day, why then', I'll make 'em rich, every one on 'em "Now, gentlemen, 'taint often I'm led tc tell on myself after this fashion ; but these old places where I trapped when I was a boy, made me feel like a child again?and I jusl felt like telling these youngsters here aboul . _1 J .1 /vii j me cuauges ana cnaoces a ieuow may meti in life, if he only tries to make the most oi himself. "But, boys," said he, turning to a party of young men, "there's something bettei than money. Get education. Why, boys, if I had as much larnin' as money, I could be President in 1857 just as e-a-s-y. Why, I could buy up half the North and not miss it out of my pile. Get larnin'; don't chaw tobacco; don't take no liquor, don't swear, and mind your mothers?that's the advice of a real live Sucker; and if you mind whal I say, you may be men, (and it ain't every feller that wears a goatee and breeches that is a man, by a long ways.) Foller out her counsels; never do a thing that will make you ashamed to meet her in Heaven. Why, boys, I never done a bad thing but I heard my mother's voice reprovin' me; and I never done a good thing, and made a good move, but I've seemed to hear her say, 'That's right, Jack;' and that has been the best of all. Nothin' like a mother, boys; nothin' like a mother?that's so." All this had passed while waiting to woodi just out of Chicago. The great man was swelling with emotions called up from the dark shadows of the past; his big rough frame heaved like a great billow upon the ocean. Tears sprang to his deep set and earnest eyes?they welled up to the brim? and swam round asking to be let fall as tributes to the love of the past. But he choked them down, and humming a snatch of an old ballad, he thrust his hands down into his pockets, walked back to the end of the car, pulled the gigantic collar of his shaggy coat up around his ears, and leaned back ic silence. The cars rattled on. What a mind was there, what a giant intellect, sleeping, buri? J r l" l<. j r..i v. _..v cu away uum ngutuuu uaeiuiueds uy a iuu< bish of prejudice, habit and custom?doing but half work for want of culture. "A mute inglorious Milton," or rathei Webster, going about the world struggling with his own soul, yet bound by the chains of ignorance, which always precluded his doing but a moiety of the good it lay in his power to do. . All the way on our tedious journey he had been on the watch to do good. He gave up his seat by the fire to an Irish woman and her child, and took one farther back ; sood a young girl seated herself by his side; as the night hours wore on, and she nodded wearily, he rose, spread his beautiful leopard skin with its soft rich lining, on the seat, made a pillow of a carpet bag, and insisted that she should lie down and sleep. "And what will you do?" asked she, naively. "Never mind me?I can stand up, and sleep like a buffalo; I'm used to it. That's so." A little boy, pulled up from a sound nap to give place to incomers, was pacified and made happy by a handful of chesnuts and a glowing bit of candy out of the big man's pocket. When he left the cars for refreshments, he brought his hands full of pies, and distribu! ted them among the weary passengers. A mother and seven little children, the eldest not twelve years old, whose husband and father left the cars at every stopping place, and returned more stupid and beastly j each time, scolding the little, tired, restless j ones with thick tongue, and glaring his fu! rious red eyes upon his poor grieved victim : of a wife, like a tiger upon his prey, "be' cause she did not keep her young ones still; i they would disturb everybody." No bite of refreshment, no exhilarating draught, no i rest from the fat cross baby, came to her all | the night long, save when the big man stretchJ ed out his great hands and took her baby j boy for an hour, and let him play with his , watch to keep him quiet. "I'll give herathousaud dollars for him," j said he, as he handed him back to his mothi er's arms. j "You may have the whole lot for that," I answered the drunken father with a swinelike grunt. "It's a bargain," said the big man, "providin' the mother's willing." "Indade, sir, it's not the single one of them can be had for money," was the quiet yet determined response of the mother. How kindly he helped her off the cars, when, at the break of day, they came to their journey's end. I Thus all night had he been attracting the - attention of the waking ones in the cars.? f But his kindness and rough politeness would ! soon have been forgotten by the mass of the , passengers, had he not stamped it upon our [ memories with his gold. t "I wonder who he is; and where did he I get in? What an interesting character!" [ "Education would spoil him." "What rich furs!" "Did you notice what; a splen; did watch he carries?" "He's some great ) man incog." ' Such were a few of the queries that pass ed from lip to lip. But there came no ani swer; for he who alone could have answered, ! sat couched in his fur coat, seem ingly unconscious of all but his own deep thoughts. ) "Chicago!" shouted the brakeman, and , in an instant all was confusion, and our hero - was lost in the crowd. The next we saw of , him was at the baggage stand, looking up a bandbox for a sweet looking country girl, ; who was going to learn the milliner's trade i in the city. As we passed to our carriage, I we discovered him again, holding an old ; man by the hand, while he grasped the > shoulder of the conductor of another train i with the other, getting for the deaf, gray j haired sire the right information as to the p route he should take to get to "his darter, [ who lived near Muscatine, Iowa." P "God bless him for his good deeds !" was i our earnest aspiration, as we whirled around > the corner. May his shadow never grow less, or the gold in his pocket diminish, for in his > unnumbered charities and mercies dropped > so unostentatiously here and there, he is perhaps doing more good in this day and generation, than he who donates his thousands to build charitable institutions, to give honer to his name. f Oh how much the world needs great hearts that arc able to comprehend little things? r and yet how often it happens that ths learn ed, the wise, and the rich, outgrow the every( day wants of humanity, and feeling within [ themselves the power to move mightily? ( pass by the humble duties that would make i a thousand hearts leap for joy?and push on, r looking for some wrong to right, some great p sorrow to be soothed, some great work to be ? accomplished; and failing to find thz great ; icork, live and die, incarcerated in their > selfishness, and doing nothing at all. ; This rough man's nature seemed the na ture of the little child. His quick eye saw i at a glance ; his great heart warmed, and his great hand executed his little works of charity?so small that one would have expected to see them slip between his giant fingers unaccomplished?yet were they done. The i "angel over the right shoulder" will have a longer column to set down to his account of deeds well done, than all the rest of the passengers of that crowded car, on that long, tedious, stormy night, in January, 1855. I ?' IITiscclIanmts |tiahing WE OWE THE WORLD A CHEERFUL FACE. We owe the world a cheerful face, Whate'er our secret griefs may be, i This earth is surely not the place ( To indulge in selfish misery. ! Why should we throw a dark'ning cloud, r Around the path of those we love ? Our sorrows,?why proclaim aloud, 1 As through Time's changeful scenes we more? When comes a dark and silent hour, i And sadness round the heart is thrown, Thy Master thank, who gave thee power To drain like Him, the cup alone. , And yet, when heaviest grief is prest On throbbing pulse and aching brain, Faint soul, thou art not all unblest, Despite of wearing woe and pain;? \ For life hath many a sunny spot, i And many a high and holy joy, ; That grief's dark waters cannot blot, That human woes can ne'er destroy. Methinks they err, who sadly call This lower sphere a "vale of tears;'' I E'en though the heart should suffer all , The woes that dim these mortal years. I Nay, be it unto Christian eye, Th' "Ascension Mount," by Jesus trod, Whose summit, piercing through the skies, Leads to the dwelling of our God! | !? ? A SUDDEN CONVERSION. In one of the northern towns of Vermont, [ lived a young man, Daniel Bryan, a lawyer by profession. No one possessed the confidence of his friends more than he did, and no one was better calculated to secure the I good will and friendship of all with whom i he came in contact. Business poured in upon him, and he failed not to give the utmost i satisfaction. At the age of twenty-seven Bryan took to himself a wife from amongst the most favored ones of the country. Mary Felton experienced a strange pride when she gave her hand to the young lawyer, and if none envied her, many at least prayed that they i might be equally fortunate. But ere long a cloud came over the scene. ; Conviviality ran high among the members of the bar, and Byran possessed one of those i peculiar temperaments which at length gave the whole body and soul up to the demon. For three years he followed the social custom of the times without neglecting much of his business but finally he sunk into the ' lowest pit of degradation. "When at the age i of five and thirty, he had became a confirmdrunkard. He now neglected his clients altogether, for he could not remain sober long enough at any one time to carry any cases through court. The only business he now had on his hands was the colleetion ofsome debts. On the evening of his thirty-fifth birth day he joined the Washingtonians, and once more his bright genius shown out upon the world. But it could not last long amid the examples of those who were his constant companions, he sank as rapidly a3 he had risen. In one short year from that time he was a miserable, degraded thing. People who had left notes and accounts with him to collect called at his house, aod upon enquiring of his wife where he would be found she would tell them he was away. Poor woman, they could not bare to dispute her, and they would go their way though they knew full well that the remains of Daniel Bryan were prostrate upon his bedroom floor. One day Mr. Vinson went to see him.? Vinson had left notes and accounts to the amount of several thousand dollars with Bryan to collect, and he was anxious about them. His poor wife answered him as usual?that her husband had gone away. <My dear madame,' returned Mr. Vinson, <1 know your misfortune, and I appreciate your feelings, but I must see your husband. If I can see him one minute I can learn all I wish to know.' Mary Bryan epolct not a word, but with a tearful eye turned away, and, Mr. Vinson followed her. He found Bryan in a back room, stretched at full length upon the floor, with a jug of Medford rum by his sidel? tit.vi i_ _rr i. t~ j 4.l~ rv lta liiucu euona r mauu uruuaeu mc puui inebriate to a state of semi-consciousness, and asked him if he had done anything about the notes and accounts which he had left with him. <Yes,' answered the lawyer, in a weak, hiccoughing voice. I've had the money for you over a month. I've deducted my percentage, and you will find the rest in that trunk. Mary's got the key.' Mrs. Bryan was called in, the key was produced, and Mr. Vinson found his money? four thousand and some odd hundred dollars ?all right and safe. In his worst moments Bryan never used for himself a single penny held in trust.? Hundreds there were who worked hard to reclaim the wanderer, but without effect.? Years went by, and he sank lower and lower ?yet his wife left him not. Her brother, a young lawyer, named Moses Felton, often urged her to forsake her husband, at the same time offering her a comfortable home beneath his own roof, but she would not listen. At length all hopes were given up. Week after week would the fallen man be drunk on the floor, and not a day of real sobriety marked his course. I doubt if such another case was known. He was too low for convivality, for those with whom he would have associated, would not drink with him. All alone in his office and chamber, he still oontinued to driuk, and even his very life seemed the offspring of his jug. In early spring, Moses Felton had a call to go to Ohio. Before he set out, he visited his sister. He offered to take her with him, but she would not go. 'But why stay here?' urged the brother. 'You are all faded away^and disease is upon you. Why should you live with such a brute ?' 'Hush Moses, speak not,' answered the ' wife, keeping back the tears. 'I will not leave him now, but he will soon leave me. He cannot live much longer.' At that moment Daniel entered the apartment. He looked like a wanderer from the tomb. He had his hat on, and his jug in his hand. 'Ah, Moses, how are ye?' he gasped, for he could not speak plainly. The visitor looked at him for a few moments in silence. Then, as his features assumed a cold, stern expression, he said, in strongly emphasised tone: 'Daniel Bryan, I have been your best friend but one. My sister is an angel, but matched with a demon. I have loved you Daniel as I never loved man before; you were noble, generous, and kind, but I hate /* P * i._!l ! you now, lor you are a perrecc aeyu mcarDate. Look at that woman. She is my sister?she might now live with me in comfort, only she will not do it while you are alive; yet when you die she will come to me. Thus do I pray that God will soon give her joys to my keeping. Now, Daniel, I do sincerely hope that the first intelligence which reaches me from ray native place, after I shall have reached my new home, may be?that ?you?are?dead !' 'Stop, Moses, I can reform.' 'You cannot. It is beyond your power.? You have had inducements enough to have reformed half the sinners of the creation, and yet you are now lower than ever before. Go and die, sir, as soon as you can, for the moment that sees you thus, shall not find me among the mourners. Bryan's eyes flashed, and he drew himself proudly up. ?Go,' he said, with a tone of the old, powerful sarcasm 'go to Ohio, and I'll send you news. Go, sir, and watch the post.' With these words Daniel Bryan hurled his jug into the fire place, and while yet a thousand pieces were flying over the floor, he strode from the house. Mary sank fainting on the floor. Moses bore her to a bed, and then having called in a neighbor, he hurried away, for the stage was waiting. For a month Daniel moved over the brink of a grave, but he did not die. One gill of brandy will save you,' said the doctor, who saw that the abrupt removal of all stimulations from a system that for long years had subsisted almost on nothing 1.. ~ A,i?1 (Vr.ii uiaUj was Lifcttiij suic iv ptuvc loiai. -xvu can surely take a gill and not take more.' 'Aye,' gasped the poor man, <take a gill and breake my oath. Moses Felton shall never hear that brandy or rum killed me !? If the want of it can kill me, then let me die! But I won't die, I'll live till Moses Felton shall eat his words. He did live ! an iron will conquered the messenger death sent, Daniel Bryan lived. For one month he could not even walk without help. But he had help?joyful, playful help. Mary helped him. A year passed away, and Moses Felton returned to Vermont. He entered the court house at Burlington, and Daniel Bryan was on the floor pleading for a young man who had been indicted for forgery. Felton stari ted with surprise. Never before had such torrents of eloquence poured from his lips. : The case was given to the jury and the : youth was acquitted. The successful counsel turned from the court room, and he met j Moses Felton. i They shook hands, but did not speak.? 1 When they reached a spot where none others ; V could hear them, Bryan stopped. 'Moses/ he said, 'do you remember the words you spoke to nie a year ago?' 'I do Daniel.' 'Will you now take them back ?' Unsay them now and forever.' 'Yes with all my heart?' 'Then I am in part repaid.' 'And what must be the remainder of the payment?' asked Moses. 'I must die an honest, unperjured man ! The oath that has bound me thus far was made for life. That evening Mary Bryan was among the happiest of the happy. No allusion was made in words to that strange scene of ODe year before; but Moses could read in both the countenances of his sister and her husband the deep gratitude they did not speak. And Daniel Bryan yet lives, one of the most honored men of Vermont. Five times has he sat in the State Legislature ; thrice in the Senate, and once in the National Con gress; and he is yet an ornament to society, declining all offers of public office, from the fact that his profession is more lucrative; while plenty of others want the offices which he cares not for. ELEGANT EXTRACT. "Every encroachment, great or small, is important enough to awaken the attention of those who are entrusted with the preservation of a constitutional Government. We are not to wait till great public mischiefs come, till the Government is overthrown, or liberty itself put in extreme jeopardy. We should not be worthy sons of our fathers were we so to regard great questions affecting the general freedom. Those fathers accomplished the revolution on a strict question of principle. The Parliament of Great Britain asserted a right to tax the colonies in all cases whatsoever, and it was precisely on this question that they made the Revolution turn.? The amount of taxation was trifling but the claim itself was inconsistent with liberty ; and that was in their eyes enough. It was against the recital of an act of Parliament, rather than against any suffering udder its enactment, that they took up arms. They went to war against a preamble. They fought seven years against a declaration. They poured out their treasure and their blood like water in a contest in opposition to an assertion, which those less sagacious and not so well schooled in the principles of civil liberty would have regarded as barren phraseology or mere parade of words. "They saw in the claim of the British Parliament a seminal principal of mischief, the germ of unjust power, they detected it, dragged it forth from underneath its plausible disguises, struck at it, nor did it either elude their steady eye or their well directed blow till they had extirpated and destroyed it to the smallest fibre. On this question of principle, while actual suffering was yet afar off, they raised their flag against a Power to which, for purpose of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height of her glory, is not to be compared ; a Power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts; whose morning drum-beat, following the sun and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth daily with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England."?Daniel Webster. THE AMERICAN FLAG. The Boston Herald compiles some interesting facts as regards the history of the Stars and Stripes. A resolution was introduced in the American Congress, June 13th, 1777, "That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternately red and white; that the Union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation." There is a striking coincidence hpfwprm t.lip flpsiorn nf nnr fine anrl thp arms O" ~? ?? of General Washington, which consisted of three stars in the upper portion, and three bars running across the escutcheon. It is thought bj some that the flag was derived from this heraldic design. History informs us that several flags were used by the Yankees before the present national one was adopted. In March, 1775, a minor flag with a red field was hoisted in New York, bearing the inscription on one side of "George Rex and the liberties of America," and upon the reverse, "No Popery." General Israel Putnam raised, on Prospect Hill, July 18th, 1775, a flag bearing on one side the motto of our Commonwealth, Qui transtulit instinct" ?on the other "An appeal to Heaven,"?an appeal well taken and amply- sustained. In October, 1775, the floating batteries of Boston bore a flag with the latter motto, and a pine tree upon a white field, bearing the Massachusetts emblem. Some of the colonies used in 1775, a flag with a rattlesnake coiled qa if oVinnf in Qtrilro onrl tha mfttfn <?T>An'f XL UUWIAV IV UUVI VUl/ JL'UU V tread on me." On January 12, 1776, the Union flag of the stars and stripes was raised on the heights near Boston, and it is said that some of the regulars made the grand mistake of supposing it was a token of submission to the King, whose*speech had just been sent to the Americans. The British Register of 1776, says : "They (the rebels) burntthe King's speech and changed their colors from a plain red ground to a flag with thirteen stripes, as a symbol of the number and union of the colonies." A letter from Boston, published in the Pennsylvania Gazette, in 1776 says : "The union flag was raised on the 2d, in compliment to the United Colonies." These various flags, the Pine Tree, Rattlesnake and the Stripes, were used, according to the tastes of the patriots, until July 1777, when the stars and stripes were established by law. At first a stripe was added for each new State but the flag became too large, and Congress reduced the stripes to the original thirteen, and now the stars are made to correspond in number with the States. There is no one, who lives under the protection of the Stars and Stripes, but will agree with the Herald, that "the American flag is one of the most beautiful that floats upon any land or sea.? Its proportions are perfect when it is properii?inrirfci?i? | ly made?one half as broad as it is loDg.? | The first stripe at the top is red,* the next white, and these colors alternate, making the last stripe red. The blue field for the stars is the width and square of the first seven stripes, viz : four red and three white. The colors of the American flag are in beautiful relief, and it is altogether a beautiful national emblem. Long may it wave untarnished.? He who would erase one stripe, or dim one star upon it, "acts a traitor's part, and deserves a traitor's doom !"?Daily Pennsylvania n. STAR SPANGLED BANNER. Oli! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming ? Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming; And rocket's red glnr^, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night, that our flag was still there, Oh: aay, does tuat star-spangled banner yet wave, O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. On the shore dimly seen, through tho mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host, in dread silence reposes : What is that which the breeze o'er the low'ring steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses! Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream, 'Tis the star spangled banner, oh ! long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. And where isthnt"band, who so vauntingly swore, That the havoc of war, and the battle's confusion, A home and a country shall leave us no more! Their blood hath washed out their foul footsteps pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave, From the terror of fight, or the gloom of the grave. And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the bravo. Oh thus be it ever when freemen shall stand Between their lov'd home and the war's desolation ; Blest with vict'ry and pence, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserv'd us a nation. Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our trust!" And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Working Girls.?Happy Girls! who cannot love them ? With cheeks like roses, bright ?y?a, and eloatio stop, how ohoorfally they go to work. Our reputation for it, such girls will make excellent wives. Blessed indeed will these men be who secure such prizes. Contrast those who do nothing but sigh all day, and live to follow the fashions, who never earn the bread they eat, or the shoes they wear; who are languid and lazy from one week's end to the other. Who but a simpleton and popinjay would prefer the latter, if he were looking for a companion ? Give us the working girls; they are worth their weight in gold. You never sec them mincing along, or jump a dozen feet to steer clear of a spider or a fly; they have no affectation, or silly airs about them.? When they meet you, they speak without putting on a dozen silly airs, 01 trying to show off to a better advantage, and you feel as if you were talking to a human being, and not to a painted automaton or a fallen angel. If girls knew how sadly they missed it, while they endeavor to show off their delicate hands and unsoiled skins and put on a thousand airs, they would give worlds for the situation of the working ladies, who are far above them in intelligence, in honor, in everything as the Heavens are above the earth. Be wise, then ; you have made fools of yourselves through life. Turn over a new leaf, and begin, though late, to live and act as human beings; as companions to immortal mau, and not to playthings and dolls.? In no other way can you be happy and subserve the design of your existence. Southern Women.?A letter in the Boston Chronotype contains the following merited compliment to the fair daughters of the sunny South. We seldom see the truth so promptly expressed relative to anything appertaining to the South, by persons in that quarter; hence we copy it in compliment to all concerned: "The first thing that struck me in regard to the women of the South was their beauty of form, and their symmetrical and harmonious figures. In this and in the ease and grace of their motions they excel the Northern women. Many of them dress with exquisite taste?often very richly, but seldom gaudily, or with any display of tinsel. The proverbial affability and urbanity of the Southern character finds the fullest development in the women. The Southern lady is naturally and necessarily easy, unembarrassed and polite. You may go into the country where you please; you may go as far as you please from town, village and post office; you may call at the poorest house you can find, and whether you accost maid or matron, you will be answered with the same politeness and treated with the same spontaneous courtesy." Cesar's Wealth.?Julius Caesar, like Wilkins Micawber, Esq., was "continually incurring pecuniary liabilities that he found it difficut to discharge." He set a high value upon friendship, having purchased that of Lucius Paulus for 81,500,000, and that of Curio for $2,500,000. He was a terrible spendthrift. Before he succeeded in obtaining any office, he had amassed debts to the amount of 814,975,000. But office holders had good pickings in those days, as well as in our own; and as soon as Julius got his i hand into the public treasury, his debts began to diminish. He soon became rich.? He gave Servilla, the mother of Brutus, a 1 pearl of the value of 8200,000. He would, 1 doubtless, have been guilty of many other 1 extravagances had not "the beloved Brutus" ' given him that cruel stab under the fifth rib. ] On the day of the assassination, Cesar's friend, Mark Antony, owed $1,600,000, which was all paid thirty days afterwards. This same Antony subsequently swallowed a pearl, dissolved in vinegar, (which Cleopatra administered to him,) worth $400,000. He also squandered $735,000,000 of the public treasure. The Josephine.?The Josephine is the newest article of female attire, and is somewhat like a Shanghae coat. It makes the wearer resemble the new comet?little body and tremendous tail. The upper story of the Josephine squeezes the lady into nothing, and the lower tier expands her into the size or a naystacx. Tbe wearer of this garment spread over an indefinite area of hoops, is little more as compared with the expanse of dimity she drags along than the cork is to the bottle. She seems to be stack into the dress for the purpose of holding its different and incongruous parts together, and enabling the whole apparatus to move along. There is a good deal of benevolence at the bottom of the present fashions. The ladies, aware of their powers of attraction, know that if they did not make themselves ridiculous by outlandish and shapeless garments, their charms would be too powerful, and might lead mankind into all sorts of eccentricities. Grow Beautiful.?Age dims the lustre of the eye, and pales the roses on beauty's cheek; while crowsfeet and furrows, and wrinkles, and lost teeth, and gray hairs, and bald head, and tottering limbs, and limping feet most sadly mar the humane form-divine. But dim as the eye is, pallid and sunken as may be the face of beauty, and frail and < ?kl? L J 1 iccuic iimi uuuc otiuug, crcuc auu ma 111 j body, the immortal soul, just fledging its wings for its home in heaven, may look out through these faded windows, as boautiful as the dew-drops of a summer's morning, aa the tear that glistens in affection's eye, by growing kindly, by cultivating sympathy with all human kind, by cherishing forbearance toward the foibles and follies of our race, and feeding day by day on that love to God and man which lifts us from the brute and makes us akin to angels. Beautiful Illustration.?The widow's mite was-.beautifully illustrated at a meeting of the Bible society recently held in Manchester, New Hampshire. A poor woman on her death bed, had given a cage, with two boAwttful birde, the only available thing she owned, to the Bible Society. The birds had been kept by the clergyman, and at the anniversary meeting at Manchester, they were brought forward and the interesting circumstances of the gift stated. They were then uncovered, and the sudden gush of light roused them up, and the little warblers burst into the most rapturous song.? The effect upon the audience was magical, and under its influence they were Bold at auction. Over one hundred dollars, including some voluntary additions, were thus secured for the Society by this poor dying woman's bequest. . A Novel Speculation.?Among the latest items of news from Havana is the following : "One of the most curious speculative movements in which, since the day of joint stock companies, our neighbors have engaged, is the organization of a company for the purpose of encouraging the growth of cotton. The capital of the company is put down at eight millions, divided into four thousand shares of $2,000 each. They propose to bay up all the cotton-growing lands of the island, especially such as are unfit by nature or otherwise for the growing of sugar, and put them at once under cultivation. The. company also proposes to engage in cotton manufactures. The movers speak with confidence of their enterprise, which they assure us has i the approval and encouragement of the Got* 1 ernment." , . V Every inch a Yankee.-?BayaTd Tajlor says that a Yankee, in walking in St. Petersburg, one muddy day, met the Grand Duke Constantine. The side-walk was not wide enough for two persons to pass, and the streets were deep in filth?whereupon the American took a silver rouble from his pocket, shock it in his closed hand, and cried out, "Crown or tail ?" "Crown?'guessed the Grand Duke. "Your highness has won," said the American, looking at the rouble and stepping in the mud. The next day the American was invited by the Grand Duke to dinner. Crops?The accounts in relation to the crons are cenerallv verv enconrapinp from r o j -?y o?o ?. all parts of the country. Cotton and sugar promise remarkably well. The Nashville Banner expresses the opinion that 3,500,000 bales of cotton will be grown, which maybe worth $170,000,000, and that the sugar crop will be worth $30,000,000, which will begin to come into market in Southern cities in six weeks' time. All other crops being good, the hopes expressed of a brisk fall trade and a deferred revulsion is not without foundation. Its Wrong.?We have no objections to s6eing youngladies dress neat and tasty when they go to church, but we do think it is entirely wrong for them to dress so uncommonIT? flno flinf fViav ntfranfc nnr nttAnfinn an tVint V r*"v ? r~ ?? we find it impossible to give that christian hearing to the preaching of the Gospel, we ought to. It's wrong?for a lady who is dressed fine enough to absorb our attention, is fin e enoiigli ito keep other young men from hearing a single word, the, preacher says.? We hope the young ladies will take this matter into consideration. jfiWh'On Dr. H-?- and Lawyer A?? fvere Walking afm1 in arm, a wag said to a rriend';"JThhsfe two are just equal to one li^hWavman." "Why?" was the response. 'Bsfc&tee/' rejdihed the Wag, "it is a lawyer and a dootor-^cmr'woniy or your life" ^mmm.