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-Ji mil pi m ijft ?, w^(f - - - -,* ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ V0L :i' '.RERXVIUE, St ('.: T[||;I!M)AY MOtpNg, jUI^Y 17. ' gjjifr <?ift f mrtjjtru (Bnterprisr, M( * KEFLEX OP POPULAR EVENTS r*di 11 ' j: - *yj* " . ' v taigeflBtt&ttiE s>? iPHiac&ii, * - EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. * 1 60, parkble in p<lvanc? ; (2 if dulnyed. CLUTW ?f FtVK and upward* 81, the money (a evbrv ih?tano'ti in accompany th? order. * ' ADVERTMKM15YT3 ineertel eoViepumounly at tii-t i-ita* of lf> Mi its j> t apine ttf |:t Knii, and &V ogitte for each *uh*or|'lo:it insertion. Co.v ti'AiU lor yearly a Ivoi'twinj made reasonable. ACIKJtTR. ?.. W. Oft**, N*. W. oor. of Walnut nud Third-M, Philadelphia, U our authorized Ajfuut. \V. W. SValkkb, Jr., Columbia, 8. ('. l'unca SrRADu:v, Esq., Flat Rock, N. (\ki A: M. Pmx, Fair view I*. oViDrtftivilh T?irt, Wh.uam<\ Bvkrr, Pleasant Orovo, Orecnvillc. t!.\rr. R. Q. Akdkuvih, Cedar Fall*. Greenville jOtltttrt ^nctnj. From the New York Dally News. "JjbeHi Clout) ifstb 3 Silbcf ' XhUf. VY J. W. WELCH. llo y all ye weary ronis who grope . Along this vale of tears, Your hearts ne'er filled with buoyant hope, Hut with forboding fears; Look upward, onward as ye go, And cease litis dull repining,? ' I here's never si cloud how e'er so dark, lint hath a silver lining." ilo 1 all ye sa l and mourning onus, Who wander broken-hearted, From cherished friends dissevered long, Frcnn nativo homes long parted ; K iise ye your eyes to lienren above, Where faith this wreath is twininir.? "There's ne'er u cloud howe'or so daik, But hath it silver lining.' And should misfortune drape your sky lu clouds of deepest black, Or sorrow a rnih fait thick and fa?t O'er life's uneven track, Look upward, and those words ye'll see, . In golden letters shitting,? '' There's ne'er a cloud howo'er so dark. But hath a silver lining." And should the wealth which re have gained Tako wings ami fly away, And adverse winds blow cold, around Thy tenement of clay, Still upward look, and onward press, "Otve o'er your dull repining,? "There'* ne'er a cloud howe'er so dark, But hath n silver lining." lift ftmotig tljt 9iibinit5. 9 JL eg^n 0 of ifeto ?pglqnO. nv JOIIX O. WUITftKR. Shrieks?-fiendish yells?they slab thoin in their deep. One (IUXDuku tear* ng<?!-~ilio hunter who rafigcd the bills and forols of New England, fought against oilier enemies than the brown bear nttd the panther. The husbandman, as ite toiled in the plain. Or the narrow iMtiim hWu ? i?? wvw ? ?? - w? !? VIWOVI f nw IM?* OIU v f % 1 loaded weapon ; and wrought diligently ami firmly in the n>id?t of peril. The frequent crack of tho Indian'* rifle w?i hoard in the till depth* of the foront?the death knoll of (ho uawary'lmnler ; and, ever nn?l anon, the flame of aotus*devoted f;;rir. house, wh&? dweller* had b?.vu slaughtered hy a merci lew foe, rose redlv up mi the darknes" of the night limo. The wild and flory eye* of the heathen gleamed through the thick underwood of the forest, upon the paaaing of the worahippers of the only true <>od; and the war-whoop rang shrill and loud under the very walls of the sanctum y of prayer Perhaps-no part of New England affords a wider Held for the researches of the legendry, than that portion of Maiwachusett* IIay, formerly known as the province of Maine. There the ferocious Norridgewock held his stent council*. and there the tribes of the Peaobscot went forth with aong and upvn IffU WIIHO IIIIMI.?" Thera^ tho romantic mid chivitlrous U*?ii?e imimuod Hmatlf m the aoliiudo*, find thefn tho high-hearted lyiljc?tlie n>il?l giftod Jeaui'.?ttbfier&t together tho broken Htiengili of In# NorriUguwock. hikI boilt up in tho great wiWeniWn tetrode to tbe trno (iwfc There, too, Ifo pemhed in the d,,.k oiislaiqgty jof tliarX'oiohi'*!*- perjihed with there the tfiorfidgowo^s. fell- one afyr ?notnVrW''?WB ?pd VnW>mj>b?ining pride LIZ J neither iisking nor- giving quarter, as they resisted the whito spoiler upon the tbreshliold of their consecrated plHCe of worship, and in view of their wives and children. | The following is T>nc among many legends of the strange encounters of the Whito Man^ and the Indian, which ato yet preserved in the ancient records and traditions of Maine. The simple and unvarnished narrative is only given: It was a snitrv evening towards the la?t of June, 1722, that Cafrl. Herman and the Eastern Kanger* -urged their canoes up the Keimel.ee river, in pursuit of their enemies. For hours tliev toiled diligently at the oar. The last truce of civiiixati- n was left behind, and the long shadows of the skirting forest met and blended in the middle of the broad stream, which wound darkly through them. As OVOrV VOUIul from tin- ji.!i-us>nt. ?lirwi-?c?l ... y llic rustling wing of tome night-bird, or the; quick footsteps of some wild beast?the dash of the oar was suspended, and tho ranger's grasp tightened on l>w? i?tl?*. All knew the peril of the enterprise; and that silence, which is natural of jeopardy, settled like a cloud upon the midnight adventurers* 'Ilush?sofi'y men !' said tlie watchful Flcrmou, in u voice which scarcely rose j above a hoarse whisper, as tho canoe swept I around a rugged promontory, 'there is a ; light ahead !' | All eyes wcie bout towards the shore.? | A tall Indian lire gleamed up amidst the great oaks, casing a ted and strong light upon tho daik waters. K??r a single and breathless moment the operation of the oar was suspended, and every ear listened with painful earue.-Uiess to patch the well known sounds, whi.h seldom failed to indicate the propinquity of the savages. Hut all was [now silent. With slow und faint movements of the oar, the canoes gradually approached the. sU-pecteJ spot. Tho landing was nftvejed in "iience. After moving cautiously for a con iderable distance in the dm 1c shadow, the pa-ty at length ventured within l}ie li.oad circle ol the light, which at Ibst attracted their attention, llcnnon was a*, their head, with.an eye and a hand, quick a? those of the savage enemy whom he sought. The i?otlj of a fallen ire- lay across the i path- As the ranger* were mi the point of , leaping over it, the coarse whisper of Hcrmoil again broke tire silence : j 'C!>h! of heaven !' he exclaimed, pointing I to the tree. 'See here I?'.is the work of the cursed lerl shins !' A smothered eiir*e growled (>n (ho lip* of ; the ranger*. n* they l>eiit dimly forward in | the direction pointed out by their coalman l dor. HI.?od whs spiiukled on the rankgrasR 'and n human hand? the hand of a white j man lay on the bloody loo. There was not a word *j> Icon, but every coiintetini.ee worked witli terrible emotion. Had the ranger* followed tin ir own de?j?erate inclination, they would have hurried recklessly onward to the w...k of vengeance; but the example of their leader, who had regained bit usual caltnncr's and self command, prepared them for a le? speedy, hut more certain tiittinpli. Cnu'iouslv passing or or the fcaihd obstacle in '.he pathway, and , rlotclv I'H"'ved by Itia companion* ho ad-1 vanced a:ealiliily and cnttliottaly upon the light, hiding himself and hi - party as much a* possible behind the thick trees. In a few moment* they obtained a full view of the object of their search. Stretched at their length around a huge fire, but a convenient distance from it, lay the p unted and halfnaked form* of twenty savages. It was evt dent front their appearance, 'hat they had passed the day in ?>no of their horrid revel*, and thai they wore now sutleiiug under the effects of intoxication. Occasionally, a grim warrior among theni started half upliglit, grasping his tomahawk, as if to coin* bat some vision of his disordered brain, but, unable to shake oft' the stupor from hjs senses, uniformly fell back into his former position. The rangers crept nearer. As (hey bent their keen eves along their wcll-Hed rifles, each felt perfectly sure of his aim. They waited for the signal of Heimou, iho wa? endeavoring to bring bis long musket to bear upon the bend of the most distant of he snvnges. 'Fiie !' he at length exclaimed, as the sight of his piece interposed full and distinct be > tween his eye and the wild scalp-lock of the Indian. 'Fire, ami rush on 1' The sharp voice of thirty rifles thrilled | through the heart of the forent. There was a groan?a smothered crv?a wild and con' vulsive movement among the sleeping Indians ; and all again was silent. Tlio ranger* sprang forward with their ollllklin/1 iniial/ota o oil 1 A VIMUUVU ll.un?vw <??VI HIIIIUIIV KlllVira , OUl their work was done, The Red Men had gone to their last audit, before the Great Spirit, and no sound was heard among them save tho gurgling of the hot blood from their lifeless bosom*. 1 They were left unburied on the place of ' their revelling?a prey to the foul birds of the air, and the ravenous beasts of the wilderness. Their scalps woro borne home? ward in triumph bv the successful rangers, I whose children aud grand children shuddered, long after, at the thrilling narrative of midnight adventure. I ttlisttllflttrmis llcabiug. Ji)c ^C3()0i)3ibilif[j of dli ofor tiiis iieai/rn or mem orrdfkikti Mr. Editor -A medical writer has remarked, that "Perfect health iu civilized society is unknown; it exists only as uii ideality." This startling truth, which any one of observation cannot dispute, lends to the inquiry, Who is in fault I A full and impartial answer would require us to examine the duties of both sexes. At present, however, we shall only consider the manner in which woman discharges her high responsibilities as mother of the race. From report* published by Miss lleeclier, and ollieis, we learn that our towns do not aver ago one healthy woman. Nevertheless, lie who teaches that the sex arc in fault for t'ueir bodily infirmities, is often regarded as blaspheming; for has not Providence seen fit to afflict them !! Thus, by making Supreme Power the scape-goat, tliey piously relieve themselves of all re?pon*ibility for their own sufferings, and those which they inflict upon the race. When we consider that id out overy third woman has a diseased sphie, that at least every fifth one is scrofulous, consumptive, or possessed of some other disease transomsable to her offspring; and making no estimate of general debility and various weaknesses, liiat not one iu a bundled can boast of having no deformed bones, we are led to ask, what kind of Providence is that who thus delights in disfiguring his noblest work? Providence establishes laws?those who violate them suffer the penalty. If we look from effects to their causes, we can trace to the habits and customs of women many of the evils which havo vitiated the human family. It cannot be expected that infirm parent*, groaning under a load of disease, will give to the world an hop. race. It should not be expected that women who shut themselves in from the inspiring air and sunlight ofj heaven, confining their labors entirely to the house or living in indolent luxury .will "stamp their race with signatures of majestic grace." or transmit to the world offspring possessed of sound mental and physical organizations. As reasonably may we look for pure sparkling waters to flow from a malignant moras*. There arc thoso of the sex that have observed and reflected much, who know and acknowledge that women aro in fault, criininallv so. for scores of the comnlaints from which the race buffer. With such lies the weighty duty ofcommencing ft reform, which shall restore to the human constitution some of it? pristine tone. At the present time few of our g'nls reach the ago of twenty in a sound condition. Large numbers inarry and become mothers?-'give to the world a suffering off| spring, and/hemsotves drag out lives of pain. | So it will ever be until education and fash ions accord belter with thedictatcsof untuie, until parents observo the laws of health them selves, and retpiiro them to be observed in i (he treatment of their children. | Take n fair girl of Revonteen or eighteen, who has been so fortunate as to inheiit no | disease, and to pass through the periods of; i infancy and school with no other misfortune than to come out rather delicate, tench her by example to submit to fashion*, however opposed to the dictates of sound sense and the demands of sound health they may be. encircle her waist with whalebones and steel ; load her hi|* with skirts, corded, quilted, hooped and stArched, tied tensely around the person to keep litem in position ; J have her adopt the sedentary habits of thou-' sands of our women, and then in a few years ; look at the woiuau you have re-crtutcd from the noble gill. ller whole body is in an abnormal state. Weakness and disease prey upon a form, whioh.;had a reasonable course been pursued, would have been bounding with health. Thus it is that Providence sends afflictions !! Were they not imiied ? If women would rejoice in the fulness of l!f> . ? tI'.i".' vnillil ffivp to lti? ivArl.l an oft. I # V # o " " spring benuiifnl and noble, let them make the laws of henlth the groat study of life ami I the instruction of thoir children theiein one ! of their great duties. Lel'them throw aside whalebones and steel, I and make easy but elegant costumes. Lot them untie tiio sliings which nro doing a work as fatal as the hangman's cord. Let every garment be subtended from the shoulders ?let every limb have scope for actionlet them spend several hours per diem ip the invigorating air which Ood has adapted for their lungs. Teachers are grossly in fault fur not bringing these things forcibly before their pupils, both in practice and in theory. The long processions formed to take exercise in measured pace, for balf-an-honr in the twentyfour, leave no vivid impression upon the pupil, CKcept a remembrance of the stupidity of the performance. Let scholars feel the pleasure of living at least three hour* per diem in the open air, and they will readily 00111 prebend when instructed that it is an agree able duty to do so. The health of morals and intellect sympathies with that of the body. If the latter becomes prostrate, the farmer may l>ccome enfeebled. It would therefore sectn appro priate for our eloquent divine* to inculcate, occasionally, lesson* upon the important subject of health, and the responsibilities of eve* rv IntelKgefit Wing. The eft'ect would, doubtless, be as bonettcinl to the human fan) ily as homilies upon natural depravity or original sin.? Correspondent of the Plotigh. the Loom and the Anvil. I be -Blind lirigbhMMt. "I do not like reading," said little Johnny to his mother one day ; "1 wish you would not send me to school. It will be time 1 enough to learn wlu-n I am a great boy." 'Well," said his mother, "if you do not , like going to ncliool, what do you like? l>o you like to hear stories which people thai can rend find in book ?" "Yea, mother, you know 1 like to licnr them." "Well, ns it is not yet school-time, if you ! will bring your little stool, 1 will tell you a! story : and then you mint go to school wil ( lingly. When you are older and wiser you will know the use of learning ; now what you hare chicfiy to learn is to believe tliat I : know better tlian you, nud to do everything I wish." "Yes, mother, I will go willingly ; and now j I have got iny little stool, and there is room | for you to rest your feet on one corner, while you nurse baby, and 1 shall have plenty of j room to sit also." "Well, John, some years ago a clergyman ( who was travelling in Ireland met a blind ! man, who parliy guided his steps with a! large stick, and partly by the aid <?f a little; ' dog, which ho hold by a string. j ( " *You are very old, my poor friend,' said J f the clergyman. '"Ay, sir,' replied the old man ; 1 am near a bundled tears old. and a good thing it i> j for inc that I have ltved to be old ; but,' he ( added in n low lone, 'it was a bad thing for Solomon.' " 'Why so said tho clergyman. " 'Why sir,' the blind man repl'ed, 'if Sol union had <uou Ueioro he win old lie would Imvo been now remembered as one of tin* holiest men that ever lived. Hut if I had died before I was old, I should at ibis time bo in hell. Solomon lived to disgrace him self, an.I I have lived to obtain eternal glory.* "'Why do you expect lo obtain eternul i glory ?' said the clergyman. "'liecause,' replied the blind man, 'I trust for my salvation to the blood of Jesus Christ, ( shed for poor sinners like me. And 1 know that the holy spirit of (rod dwells in me, and | has brought me to the knowledge of heaven . Iv things." Whom have you heard speak of these things ?" said the clergyman. " 'No one,' replied the hlitul man. , '' 'Then how came Jou bv the. knowledge of Sciipture which you possess I" I " 'Sir,' replied the old man, 'about a year ago I began to be quite blinJ. I took this ( as a warning that 1 was drawing near the , grave, and 1 thought it time to prepare mv soul for another world. 1 knew of no oue | who could teach me; hut one of tny little , grand children had gone to school and team ed to read. 1 thought if I bought a Hil>le 1 , could make my little grandson read to me | constantly. 1 did so; the little boy read ; v iilingly, and through hearing tho Scripluies . the Lord opened my heart to feel hU love, , to know myself u sinner, mid to know that my sins were forgiven.' Here the old man j broke forth into many expressions of praise , to (Jod for his goodness. I "Now, my dear Johnny,' said tho mother, , "if that little boy had not gone to school, and ( if he had not learned to rend, Ids poor grand- | father would have had nobody to tellliimof , Cod's love in sending Jesus to die for sinners. , Perhaps the poor old man would have gone , to the grave ignorant and wicked. Instead , of that, the grandfather learned tho way to heaven through the lessons of his little grand- , son ; the little boy himself, in reading to his ] grandfather, learned from n child thoso holy Scriptures. which are able to tnnke him wise | unto salvation, through faith that is in Christ j Jesus, aqd I dare say grew up to be u good , man. ; , "0 mother! mother!" cried Joliunv, ''1 , know why you told me that story. You want me to bo a useful little boy, and read , to othe.' tM'onle when I can roiul mvself. And i # y v i so I will. I will go to school directly, and tiy to learn like a good boy. Hero'* my hat and bag. Good bye, mother ! good bye, baby ! I'm gone! Good bye, till dinner time!" GoiHrting ill SlroflOtofltJ. A vkkv singular wedding, says a New York paper, transpired hero this week. A young and very pretty Irish girl?the sinter of one of onr common Councilman, was walking up Itroadwnv, New York, when she attracted the attention of an elderly gen tleman of large wealth, who had lived all his life a bachelor and an ascetic. Humor* says thai ha was foiled in an affair du cctur and carried thenceforth in his breast a heart impenetrable to the sweet influences of the tender passion. Well, this gentleman on tbe promenade was attracted by this Irish ? girl to sudh a degree that lie Hrrcsted his ateps and ventured to address her : ".Will you pardon the liberty, Mis*, if I ask tour name?" 'l ire girl timidly surveyed him, and apparently satisfied that not mere curiosity prompted him in the query, and that he was a gentleman, aho nceedcd. "My name is Mary 0*K??, sir." "Dare I n*k you another question, Mary ? 1 menu Mis* O'K?? ?" "Proceed, sir," she replied, very good liumorpdly. "Then I should liko to ask you?and you will confer an infinite obligation upon me by answering truly?whether you are engaged in marriage to any one, or whether vour ft?elinrrn mi?> ii?lf*rpRt.?rl in fine nAPtftn *' The question was decidedly a home one, hut there was so kind and gentle an expression in the old man's eye, and such an evident earnestness in his tone, that she answered him freely? "Not in the least, sir." ' Then allow nie without any further ceremony, to place my card in your hand and with it the ofter of myself and fortune.? Commission any friend you please to make whatever inquiries concerning mo you may deem proper, and let me know your determination to-morrow." The girl, overwhelmed with surprise, deposited the slip of pasteboard in the reticule Mid passed ou. Ou Wednesday afternoon lior brother called at the hotel where her admirer resided and informed hiui that Mary had concluded to adopt him. They woro married the same evening at the residence i>t the bride's mother, and the old gentleman settled on her otto hundred thousand Jollars on the spot. This gentleman?ho would not like mo o give you his name?has held a great nnny public offices in liis time, was formery a major in the United States army, and ifierwarda assistant Indian Commissioner.? His real es'atu in this city is worth more ilian two hundred thousand dollars. Mary and the Major started the next morning for New Oi leans, where the latter lias a brother who is sort of pecuniary nuhob in that city. U ci me 000 i oyctyitig Incident. Wk clip the following from the Frodricksburg (Vii.) Christian Banner: A young matt and his wife were preparing to attend a Christinas a party at the hou.-o of a friend some miles distant. "Henry, my dear husband, don't drink too much at the party to-day ; you will promise ine, won't you ?" -said she, pulling tor hand upon his brow, and raising her jyes to his face with a pleading glance. "No, Millie, I will not; you may trust ne." And he wrapped his infant boy in a soft olanket, and they descended. The horses were soon prancing over the turf, and pleasant conversation beguiled the way. "Now don't forget your promise," whispered the young wife as she passed up the lens. 1'oor thing! she was the wife of a man who loved to look upon the wine when red. Hut his love for his wife and their babe, whom they both idolized, kept him back, ....t ;> ....... ..... .a., i... .1? n?..i. ?'?u iv iiwi uiicii lie juiuuu in bile iJiitu* uiHliuu revel l ies. The party passed off pleasantly, the time or departing, drew near, and the wife de icended from the upper chamber to join her liusbund, A pang shot through ihe trust \ng heart as she inet him for lie was intoxicated?he had broken his promise. Silently they rode homeward, save when the drunken man broke out into snatches of icng or unmeaning laughter. Hut the wife rode on, her babe pressed closely to her tpieved heart. "Give me the baby, Millie, I can't trust you with him," said he, as they approached a dark and somewhat swollen stream. After some hesitation, she resigned her liist born, her durling babe, closely wrapped in the great blanket, to his arm-*. Over the Jul k waters the noble steed safely bore them Hud when they reached the bank the mother asked for the child. With much care and tenderness he placed the bundle in her arms, but when she clasped it to her bosom, no babe t?/tr there ! It had slipped from the blanket, and the drunken father knew it not. A wild shriek from tho mother aroused him, and he turned just in time to see (be little rosy face rise one moment above the dark waves, then sink forever! What a speotnclo the idol of his heart gone forever, und that l>y his own internIterance. The anguish of the mother, tho remorse of the father, are boiler imagined than described. This is no fiction but the plain truth.? The parlies were known by tho friends of tho writer, and it should be a warning to those who indulge in intoxicating drinks and resist the pleading of loving wives. Few things are impossible to skill and industry. Give your heart to your Creator,and your Alms to the poor. Quarrels aro easily begun, but with diffi culty ended. EastoionoMe 3JUctnf if..,1 Fashion kills more women than toil *a J sorrow. Obedience to fashion is a greyer transgression of tlie laws of woman's nature ?a greater injury to her physical constitution, than the lianjsbip* of poverty and neglect. The slave woman at her tasks will live and grow old, and see two or three generations of her mistresses' fade and pate away. The washerwoman, with ?Cnrco a ray of hope to cheer her in her toils, will live to see her fashionable sisters all die around her. The kitchen-maid ia hearty and strong, when her iady-mistrcte has to be nursed like a sick baby ! i. - ?i . ? i- .1 - -i ? ' jv la a Bau iruiil VDHl me IMSIIlon pRtlip^ ed women are almost worth lew for all the great ends of liiunnn life. They have but little foree of character?thev have Mill less power of moral will, and quite as little physical energy. They live for no great purpose in life; they accomplish no worthy ends ? They are only doll forim in hands of milliners and servants, to be dressed and fed to order. They drew* nobody, they feed nobody, they instruct nobody, atul?save nobody ! They wiile no books?they ret no rich examples of virtue and womanly life. If they rear children, servants and nmebsdo it all, save to conceive and give thcuf bittli. And when reared what are they ? What do they amount to but weak scion* of the old slock ? Who ever heard of a fa-l.humble woman's child exhibiting any virtr.g or power of mind for which it became eminent? Head the biography of our great aud good men and women. Not one among them hud a fashionable mother. They nearly all sprung from plain, strong minded women, who had ubout as little to do with fashion as with the changing clouds. 11)6 Useful and 11>e Bcaul'if u 1. The tomb of Moses is unknown, but the traveller slakes bis thirst at the well of Jacob. The gorgeous palace of the wisest monarchs, with the cedar, and ivory and even the Temple ?>f Jerusalem, hallowed by the visible glory of the l>eitv himself, are gone: but Solomon's reservoirs are as perfect as ever. Of the ancient architecture of the Holy City, not one stone is left upon another ; but the jxarl of Belhesda commands the pilgrim's reverence to the present day. The columns of the Perscjrolis are mouldering into the dust; but its cisterns and aquaducts remain to challenge our admiration Ti>? -13- '"v golden house of Nero is a mass of ruins; but the Aqua Claudia mill pours into Knwie ft* limpid stream. The temple of the Sun, at Tad'nior in the wilderness, has fallen ; but its fountains spaikle as freely in his rays as when thousands of worship]*!* thronged it* lofty colonnades. It may I e that London will share the fate of Babylon, mid nothing be left to mark its site save mounds of crumbling brickwork, but the Thames will continue to flow as it does now. And if any work of that art should still rise over the deep ocean of time, we may believe that it will neither be palace nor temple, but some vast reservoir. *.nd if the light of any name should still flash through the mist of antiquity, it will probably be that of the man who, in his day, sought the happiness of his fellow-men rather than glory, and liuked his memory to some great work of national utility and benevolence. This is the glory which outlives all others, and shines with umhing lustre from generation to generation, imparting to its work something of its own immortality. One of i be . The story subjoined was told of one of the heroes of Doniphan's California band, at a recent festival in Sacramento. Jake Grooms is the man thalinnde the mistake of asking for tbe tune on the four post bedstead : "He had come to the countrv amoncr the very first whites, In eaily childhood, and had never known anything of the luxuries of civilization. After a while emigrants be gan to Hock in, and among others ?h? a family who brought quite, uu assortment of furniture, and among other things a piano forte. The fame of this new fangled instrument was noised about and produced great excitement; it reached Jake's ears. Some time afterwards passing the house, he thought he would call and see them. Jske was receiver! by the lady in the absence of her husband with great ]>o))t*?e**. Aft*** sitting sometime ho looked round for the piano. Against the wall stood an enormous, old fashioned, four-point bedstead, the curtains to which were drawn. Jake had never seen such n piece of furniture before, and Concluded that this must be the piano.?^ : Pointing it out, be told the lady that he had I uudetstood that she was very skillful in per forming ou that kind of an instrument, and would he very much obliged to her if sho would favor him wiih a tune." Happy u lie who limits hit want* to hU neceMitiea. Good education \i th* fuopdniiou o? hap pinets,