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THE CAMDEN JOURNAL. ^mmhbi? ? i h ????b i ? irirrwrmnwiiw?ttt mm "pr?'iim iittii pgMea???wfiTt? ??bpm nfaaena tptsm in i i.i.^?a?u-wa .ju?nj^arc?ag?? VOL.11. CAMDEN, SOUTH CAROLINA, JANUARY 29. 1850. NUMBER S ?WH?PP?1 BMJMI M n j| Poclitrtl Department. F?r the Camden Journal. Messrs. Editors:?Having seen published in your paper the Dreain of Helen, " from the poem of Festus," I have presumed so much as to offer 41 tho Song of Helen," which far excels, and for beauty and depth of sentiment and feeling, cannot be surpassed. In the perusal of 44 Festus," one of the first productions of the age, it has very forcibly struck me that the reader, in perusing that mighty and luminous work, has before him Shakespeare' Milton, and Byron combined. The work of Festus will rank equal, if not superior, to the above anthors. in the estimation of . iur humble subscriber, SoL'JN. Like an island in a river, Art thou, my love, to me, And I journey by thee ever, With a gentle crstasie ; I arise to fall before ihcc, I c?"me to kiss thy feet? To adore thee, and adore thee, Mine only one, my sweet. And thy love hath power upon me Like a dream upon a brain ; For the loveliness which won me, With the love, too, doth remain ; And my life it beautifieth, Though love be but a shade Known of ere it dieth, By the darkness it hath made. From the Philadelphia Saturday (?i>?ri?r. THE MINSTREL TO HIS LYRE. Once more, irty Lyre, thy 6lurnb'ring strings I wake with trembling hand ; Though nought but sad notes front thee now, Thy master can command. If to this heart thou still would'st cling. In this benighted hour, Come, faithful friend ! and round me fling, Thy soft and soothing power. Thou must not breathe of joy and hope, That office now is o'er; Thy duty is but with the past, Of thee I ask no more. Yes, thou ehalt tell of other days, Whose scenes will ne'er return ; Still may'st thou bid sweet incense rise, Front memory's storied urn, . u. . . .. ? , Jtiid time roll back its mystic now, Return the lost, the loved ; Soft accents kind, and kindling smiles, And friendship, faithful proved ; And I will bless thee, though my heart Should bleed at every pore. When thou hast ceased thy mournful task, Each fond illusion o'er. J. A. R. Richmond, Va. ?1)0 01io. A Rsauttitl Thought.?"Out of heaven and the Bible, ihere is nothing so pure as that Jore which makes us forget ourselves and live unto others. The last time Eve wandered through Eden's liowers of celestial amaranth, the angels, betokening her departure, gave her many flowers, whieh she twined in her hair, nnd wore on her nerk all, save one?a love blossom?whieh she pressed to her breast, and the approving smile of all the angels quickened its fainting leaves into, and it took root in her heart; and so. evermore, the children of Eve are inclined to love."?[Prom a volume entitled " A Place in the Memory," published by Miss Kroyft, (a blind girl.) A LtnKL.?The Persians have a saying tha" 'ten measures of talk wore sent down upon I he Earih and the women took nine,' There are 3004 known languages now used in the world Of these, 937 are Asiatic, 507 European. 270 African, and 1024 American languages and dialects. Slavery among the Oregon Indians.? A correspondent of the Tribune, writing from Fort Nisqually, Oregon, respecting the Oregon Indians, makes the following important an' nntinnnmonl "You will probably lie surprised thai slavery so generally prevails among these Indians.? This system exists a oong all the trihes in eve. ry portion of Oregon. I have been among the Indians as a traveller, or upon business in most sections of this territory, and my personal ob serration confirms the statement which I haw made." "Hallo, sir! put out your cigar?don't you see that notice, ' .\o Smoking Allowed.'"? " Well, what of that ??I ain't smoking aloud ?I am doing it as still as a man can." Extreme Modesty.?The Pittsburg Satur day Visiter te'ls a story of two trim Indies who entered a complaint against a neighbor for hathing in a stream five hundred yards from their door, and when asked how they could recognize him at that distance, replied, "Oh, we used a apy.glass!" # A Jockey Jocyeyed.?A Quaker having sold a fine-looking, but blind horse, to a jockey, asked the purchaser: " Well, my friend, dost thou see any fault in him ?" " None, whatever," was the reply. " Neither will he ever see any in thee," said honest Broadbrim. Never give a boy a shilling to hold your shadow while you climb a tree and look into the middlo of next week?it is money thrown away. Beautiful Metaphor.?The comparison of the journey of life to a transit across a de. serf, is very felicitously expressed in the follow, ing lines from Charles Wesley : Here in the body pent, Absent from lleavon [ roam; Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home." PERFECTLY/AMI LIAR. I The Cincinnati Chronicle is responsible for the following "yarn In the vicinity of Main street, in this city, is a merchant for whom we entertain the highest respect. He is favorably known by nearly all the citizens, as an honest, intelligent Christian man, and has been such since his boyhood. Not a stain rests upon his character, which makes the following incident the more amusing. A few days since while standing at his store a very pleasant looking gentleman passing up the street, stopped before his door and looked in. Our friend, the merchant, thinking ho had seen the stranger somewhere, and supposing hp desired to make some purchases, opened a conversation with? "Good morning, sir. Would you like to look at our stork ?" "No, 1 am obliged to you, sir. I am surpris el to see such immense quantities of goods in | Cincinnati and such splendid stores." ' The trade of our city is much increased of late years, sir," said the merchant, adding "I think I have. 6een you before, have I not?" "I presume not," the stranger replied, "I have not been in Cincinnati* for many years." "It is very strange?I feel sure I have met you?where r'o you reside ?" "In Kcntii'ky sir." The merchan* now supposed he had met the Iventuckinn during his travels on business in that State?and, offering his hand, remarked in his usual happy manner? l.V...,, fnmilinr to me VOI1 * "UI mvt 11* V i J - ^ must be some o/ri acquaintance?mv name is . Now, sir, your name, if you please V' The Kentuckian smiled and answered, "I ihink we liave never met before, yet 1 may be mistaken, as my vocation calls a very largo number of persons around me. My name is Craig; I am keeper of the Penitentiary at Frankfort !" The merchant turned to us who happened to be 8 a iding near, and begged us not to tell the incident. Hut it is out now. Wc could not keep it. Jtlteallancous Department. ihtn \w \y matt111 i:s Our readers must have noticed h?f;,r,. | now, thai the tone of remark and Ibcling with whu'k cland(vSljilc marriages are coinT.Cuied upon in conversation, ami by the press generally, is one of levity and unrlis guiscd satisfaction. Ii is commonly regar. (led as one of the best jokes if a foolish daughter of fifteen or sixteen years of age succeeds in outwitting father and mother, and runs ofi with a comparitive stranger. Editorial wit is taxed to its extremes! capability to render tiliculous the distress and anxiety of the bereaved father, as lie follows his wandering child. And if fortune favors t lie runaways, and the knot is tied before the parent can iutcipose a warning word, the general joy is rapturou-.?It is a triumph of young lovo j ... n,. elni'ii iinvvmMnthizmrr. tvrnnrral hutise- ! W.V.. .... ... - hold authority. which calls f<?r the merriest , celebration. Or if the idea sliotald occur to ! any, that all is not quite right in such cava- j her treat ncut of parents, it is soon op??l??uis- <1! fur by the sage observation that voting folks will be young folks. Take it all in all, a stranger to our manners and customs would be likely to infer that parental inle and counsel implied something very dreadful and oppressive, and that the young ladies of (lie land when held in a home bondage of the most unjust and un generous character. At t ic*risk of being regarded as very oldfashioned, we shall nevertheless acknowledged that we can rarely see any thing of the nature of a good joke in a clandestine or runaway wedding. Wc confess to a feeling 1 of sadness and evil foreboding, when we near i that a girl, who is a mere child, has made up hcrmmd to repudiate the love an I anxious care of the mother who bore her, and of the father who has cherished her as his life; that she has turned her face away from the altar of home, from the nest of her infancy, and put herself into the hands of a man whom her parents dare not trust. \Ve need not remark that marriage is the great event in woman's life, Iroin which all other events take their coloring. Ifshecir here, her whole lile is one of unavailing penant c' of scalding tears, of sharp and blighting sorrow. She cannot go back and undo Iter | fault; she dare not look to the future, for it is ' all desolate to her. These things being so. I it follows that a young lady should yield her | hand and heart, only after the most prudent ; and cautious forethought. She should avail herself of the wisdom and experience of those who love her, and above all of her parents, and after all she will feel that the chances are sufficiently nuinerons that she may still make an unwise choice. Hut m most clandestine marriages, the girl isa child, ignorant of the world; without ex. pcricnce; deficient in judgment; her mind pmbibly filled with taise notions aim lauciful day-dreams, dciivcd from novelists and romances. She meets with a young man at a party, or a ball, or no matter wheie. who seems interested in her, and she is flattered by his apparent admiration. He conducts her home, calls on her the next day, repeats his call, and they arc thenceforth in love, if they were not at the first glance, Tliev have become the Romeo and Juliet of what is a play in the outset, but a tradgedy in its close. The incompetence of the young girl to estimate the character of her lover is perfectly apparent to every one but herself. Ilepropses marriage to her, and is probably accepted without reference to the parents. He entreats that an early day may he named for (heir union. If there is any doubt of her parents concurrence, this is wanted, too; and if parental objections or difficulties threaten to interpose, an elopement is the next question agitated and agreed to. They are consoled by the thought that there is something ; romantic in n runaway match, an*) that such j things are rather praised I ha" condemned; ; and, besides, after a I is over, it will not he I difficult to make tip with father and mother. j A reflecting woman would see that the j young man who sues for love without the ! sanction of her parents, givesprimafucic ' evidence that something is wrong about him;! something that shuns the light and fears in- ! vcstigation. A woman in her right mind j would say, 'My parents I know and confide ! in; they love mc and my happiness; their: lot in life is bound tip with mine, so that if I ' err they will be wretched. They shall be J I my counsellors. 1 will not trust my own too partial eye to investigate my lover's char- j actor, and 1 will refer it to them." Such 1 would ho any prudent girl's course, and such i a couisc would seldom, if ever, end in an ' elopement. Hut such is not the cnursp of that large j class of young girls who figure in runaway j matches. And the consequence is. that such \ girls fall an easy prey to the thousand of I genteel loafers, worthless, portionless, and heartless vagrants, who contrive to keep up a respectable exterior by preying upon society. While we write these lines, we think of the multitudes of once voune. thoughtless trirls who have fallen into such hands, and found, after a few months ofaiftrricd life, their ter rible mistake. They see when it is too late; they realize when there is no remedy for it, thai they have plunged into an abyss of misery, instead of stepping into a heaven of earthly bliss, and now casting themselves once more upon the parental bosom, exclaim in a concert of agony, "Would to (lod we bad never wandered hence!''? N. Y. Organ. DEATH UPON THE OCEAN. EY 1). C. EMIT LETT. Upon a recent voyage from Liverpool to 1 New York. I became inllmafelv nennainled ? .. J , with a young man, a felio'w passenger w ho [ was going on a visit to America. When ! liist saw him, I was struck with his appear- j mice ilo was of slender make, with a glo- j rious forehead, and eyes of delicate blue, j His hair was light auburn in its color, and I his countenance expressed a nobility and frankness (hat is rarely found. We were introduced, and from some cause became quite intimate. I soon found we possessed j mutual friends in England, lie had come! from one ol the best families of the upper j stratum of what is called the middle class of j English society. Ii is not strange that we j became intimate, for I loved his native land,1 and he loved nunc. Upon the pleasant moonlight nights, we sat upon the quarter ! deck, conversing ai>out iho land, tlie homes, ( and (lie friends we were leaving?of Lmg- j land's pools and statesmen ; ??r, shilling 1 ho j scenes, of our own New Knglawl, or the ! Iiroad expansive West with its everlasting ! prairies. Ollcn the unwelcome sounds of! the midnight bells broke upon us, oic we J bad finished our conversation, so pleasantly ! bad passed the evening away, iie was not long in gaining the friendship of a!! fellow cabin passengers. j After wtWiail been out n few days. I mis- | scd linn one morning from his accustomed I place at the breakfast table. I did not I sec him on the deck during the morning, nor > at the dinner table. When I visited his j stale room tomv surprise I found him lying | on his bcrih. quite ill, with the surgeon in attendance. lie had experienced, in the night, a severe attack from a dangerous dis- j ease, and was already very much prostrated.! He was glad to see me, and seemed to be in good spirits. Tears canto into his eyes; when I took his hand, and ho wished a follow passenger who was a clergyman, l<> | read a portion of the Script tiro to hint, it | was the lirsl lime 1 had seen linn lo-w spirit- { ed, and it was the last. The clergyman j came and read a s >!umn psalm to him, and i Inn cmliir>cc li'fl liirii even !m W3S iovitl! I ?co " * ~ J hearted. I The next morning I was shocked to hear | the surgeon say he could not live forty.eight i hours, I went to him?alas! the surgeon! was right. The change that had come over ! Iiiin, in a single night, was miraculous. His i fair brow was covered with a damp chill as ; death, and his nuhurn hair was clotted with I moisture. Hut his pure blue eyes had not j altered ; llicy had the same affectionate, half i sad. hah joyous expression that they had al- \ ways wore. The Hash had disappeared from his checks, for his anguish had been great during the night. I took his hand in - i.... i \_ ..i ..... ; 1. r..?.. mine. Will llitrt'l! ii'Ji >|/v;iiiv, i>u n.m wi iiuuuiing the emotion of my heart. lie said, with a singularly cahn and clear voice: " I am going to die, my friend, but I am not afraid." A pressure was gone from my spirits at once, lie went 0111 have a few things that 1 wish to give to my friends -a few triilcs-and, if you will call the captain, I will tell you to which I wish them given." I called him, and he continued calmly ; "My gold watch I wish my sister Km. j ma to have, and my silver one, give that, to : Georgy, my little brother Georgv, and my , rifle, let it he kept for him until he is old enough to use it. Give to .Meggy the ling | on my little finger. To my mother"?his voice faltered when he came to her, and tears crept down his pallid check. "Ah.; she was a good mother! (Jive her hack the Bible that she gave me, and tell her that her boy did not fear to die!" All else he be-1 queaiticd to his father to dispose of a? lie lilted. Tiie captain loft the room, and he j said, looking earnestly up in'o my face: j "Write to my mother, when \ ain dead, and | tell her that every bodv was kind to me. and j that I had every attention,"?and tell Iter i [how tender and thoughtful was this wish of his to save his mother's heart from pain!] that I did not fear death. Tell Meggy that I Jove her in death; you should see her, she has such soft, meek eyes, and Iter hair curls so beautifully about her fair forehead. Poor Meggy! And?and?there is one of whom I have not spoken. Mary : I was en- j gaged to her?give her my host ring, anil , tell her that I hope to meet, her in heaven." j JJccoining exhausted, I left htm, for a short j time. When 1 canu; back, he said, "I wish ( once more to sec the ocean, in whose depths I my grave will soon be mane; let mc gaze on it onee more!" Alas, he was too weak,! too weak to be raised upon deck; poor fellow! And then ho wished a bucket of sea water brought to him. His eves were suf fused with a smile when he saw it. lie put his hand in it and bathed his forehead, saving, I could hardly tell whether sadly fir joyously: "Soon shall my body be in the dark blue sea." There was something magnificent in that self baptism of his?that fearlessness was so triumphant over death. All the day the wind had been increasing in strength, and at night it blew a hurricane. Towards midnight the sea became frightful mc- r.n;^l,;no .... in^ n a? v. c* uuin.ini; w? vi us < 111 n 11 jwi striking our side S"iiii(ling like heavy thundor. Many of tiie passengers weie frightened, nearly all They were up, and, when the captain came down into the cabin, they gathered about him, with agxious eyes and earnest questions. I was up all night with the dying one?some ol the time holding in his birth; a part of the time he lay in mv arms. He was perfectly calm and his fear lessncss was a rebuke to those who were pale with fright from the storm. At day-break it bad reached its height; at day-light tli" poor young man said: 4,I thank you all for yenr kindness to me?farewell forever!" and i died. The storm went suddenly down, and the ! next morning there was n perfect calm and i the canvas was idly flapping in the the air. t he stin shone calmly upon the beautiful sea?the air was balmly, like that of the South; but we were all sad, for we were to see what few of us had ever seen before?a sea burial. 1 will not describe the ceremony, for abler pons than mine have done so. 1 will say nothing of the little band that sadly stood at the gangway, and saw the corpse stretched upon the death plank: of the horrid plunge o| the body into the mysterious ocean; inditing. All that gentle day, lilile parties were clustered together, talking ab"Ul the poor young man. All of us were j I sad. When the evening come on, and the full | IliO'Ml bll"li?: 11 j)'ill w.-s, wil11 iumi'jus j;uiu>, | wont out upon the quarter-dock, and mused i lung upon the ymno man, his English home. ami tlmso who dwelt there, liis mother perhaps, was praving at that moment, a safe j si j'Uirn in the New World, arid a happy, O !! how happy! return; hut tho sea was his mother now, poor woman ! 11 is dear Meggy, "with her hair curling beautifully about her brow," lay, at that moment, perhaps kissing him in her dreams. Dream on Meggy ! loo soon will you wake to the stern agonies of life! Then i thought of the time when cv- j cry post would lie eagerly watched by those ; at home, lor they expected a letter from him. J And a letter docs come, with a foreign post-1 mark, but in a strange hand. The lather grows pale, as he looks at it: the mother, watching his countenance, anxiously asks ' why me is pale. He hands the iettcr to her. I nnil sl?n i-mvims nn lirr lace and shudders. I T/tfij (h/rc vol (ijxi) it. The brother does. J and reads?the letter t lint 1 wrote to them' Shivered, iu a moment, arc nil their beau- { liiul hopes, and tliev weep in anguish; and Meggy ! she is nut among the flowers playing, they have not told her! the brother goes to her and says: "Come to me, Meggy;" the girl runs to him and burst into tears; he cannot tell her what he wishes, lie grows I stronger, and tells her that her brother is j dead, and buried in the blue ocean, and will never, never come back!" She asks sad- j ly, "will he never, never come back?" No- ; vor Meggy;" and the beautiful child cries as if its heart would break; but the dark ocean i ivill ii,,t iic i-rios nor its mothers, but hugs I it 11) as a trophy in its embrace. ? A Kind Fiuhnp.? There is something! peculiarly gratifying in the thontiht, th t there is one who loves us?who makes our interest his own. When the hand of sickness falls upon us, it is sweet to think there j is a heart that beats in unison with our on n; a heart that feels every pang, that vibrates j in our bosom. Willi such a friend by our side, we can lack no earthly good, lie will supply our wants, even to the taking of the ! last nennv from h<s pocket. No ninlit is weary to him, as lie sits by om pillow? ! smooths our brow; administers to our wants, and notices every movement of our Irame, Have you such a friend ? Cherish him. >Sav not a word, breathe not a suggestion, that j will pain his heart. He feels an interest in yon too deep Ibr language to express, and when by a look, or a m ?lion, you betray an indilliTtmco to his welfare, or manifest no gratitude for his favors, you send a thrill of pain through his heart. We can take a ; harsh word,or a slight, from one with whom our spirits have no sympathy, but these pierce like daggers when they come from i j the friend whose interest to promote, we ! would sacrifice our time, our wealth, and our life even.?Port. Bui. Evn-SEitvANT3.?]>oirt \v;tte!i your master. hoy. lie will not. go out at present, lhill away steady and do your joh. Let us tell you what we have never faded to notice: an eye-servant never prospers, never turns out t'? be anything worth naming. If he does not runaway from his master, he might asweil, for ho is so slow and so lazy that his work docs not amount to much. Hear us; if you wish to become a good citizen and a smart man, look out for your master's in. t crest.?Hi. THE BRAVE MAN. B Y D. C. C O I, K S V.' OKTI! Y. There is nothing which a truly brave and persevering tnan may not accomplish. Heat and cold, mountains and seas, storm ard sunshine, are alike to him, when he is bent upon his object, lie pushes ahead?never tiring or fanning?until his proud design is achieved. - Whether it be riches or honors, he permits no obstacle to impeJehis progress. The histories of all distinguished men. front Alexander to Napoleon, show that it was energy and perseverance, that made them distinguished above their fellow men. And you, young man, if determined in your course, whatever end you have in view, shall he respected and honored. Never permit your energies to slumber, but be ever active in whatever field you choose to labor. To lag?to stop to doubt?to hang your head it: fear, will prove disastrous to your best interests. 'To move along in doubt and fear. And tremble ni tbe shades of eveu? What is it, but a tomb to real, And stealing to it, turn from Heaven?" The reason why so many turn out miserable tooli? without ambition, 'ife.or wealth, even-? is. their laclv of roiirnrro nr..'1 thrvir fonr of the world, What has an honest man, or a man of virtue ami integrity, to fear? All are but shadows that look dark and forbidding before you?and ihcsc vanish before the light of Truth and generous ambition. Let nothing stay your progress when you arc in the right path? nothing but the strong arm of death Then you will accomplish your bright expectations, while ''iMiud ws fiy, And l.opc beam beauteous from afar? A sea of glory fdl Uic skv; And wisdom beam in every star." Nothing is Lost.?The drop that mingles with the flood?the sand dropped on the sea-shore?the word you have spoken?will . i I 1*1. i ill i a _ noi do iosi. i^acn win nave its inmicnce and lie foil till time shall ho no more. Have you over thought of the effect that might be J produced by a single word; Drop it pleasantly among a group, and it will make a dozen happy,to return to their home to produce the same cllbct on a hundred pen haps. A bad word may arouse the indignation of a whole neighborhood; it may spread like wild, fire to produce disastrous cllbcts. As no word is lost, be careful how you speak ; speak right, speak kindly. The influence you may exert by a life of kindness; by w >rds dropped aiming the young and the old?is incalculable. It will not cease when your bodies lie in the grave, but will bo fell, wider and stilL wider as years pass awav. Who, limn, will not exert himself for the welfaie of millions ? SixniNO.?We find the fallowing very sensible observations, relative to singing among the young, m an Eastern paper: All children can learn to sing if they commence in season. I do not say that all will have the same sweet voice of the nightingale; for some have naturally sweet, mild and soft voices when they talk; while others speak in loud, string ami masculine tones. The same is true in regard to singing. In Germany every child is taught to use its voice while young. In their schools all * 01? n /wTiilnr rtVOroiBA f)C JU1I1 III uo a IV jiuiu. I.AWIV.IWV, MU u?wj attend to t he study of geography, and in their churches the singing is not confined to a choir, who sit apart from the others, perhaps in a corner of the house, but there is a vast tide of incense <ioing forth to (Jod from every heart, w hich has utterance to this language from the soul. Children, sing ! yes, sing with your whole hearts! David sang before the Lord, and it is meet that you should do the same; and always, when angiy feelings rise in your breast, curb and check them by singing sweet and cheerful songs. T.vkr his Hand? Take i he hand of thy brother, lie has just stepped from the gutter. The course of sin he has so long pursued, makes him feel alone and friendless. ISucourage his endeavors to rise. He may yet become, a useful man Take his hand, and with tears of gladness welcome his return to virtue A smile will he of inestimable value to him. A frown would send liiin back to misery, perhaps to rise no more forever. Then encourage and bless him. Speak kindly and pleasantly, and he will be saved.?I'/itl. Sittunhn/ Courier, The ice is frozen to such a thickness on the North River at the city ofjfmlson, that teams with loads, cross to Athens, on the opposite si'lool the liver. nlsnt?::t every hour of the day. "Why is a viol* nt rajou >:. rni !>! .? pleasant weather? Because it's us nu-stun/i.