Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1 . .. '**" . 'M THE CAMDEN JOURNAL * It VOLUME 3. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, JULY 1.3, 1852. , N LIMBER c6. |[ __THE CAMDEN JOURNAL, published semi-weekly and weekly by y THOMAS J. WARREN. TERMS. The Semi-Weekly Journal is published at Three Dollars and Fifty Cents, if paid in advance, or Four { I Dollars in payment is aciayeu iui^c muumo. . The Weekly Jocrkal is publislied at Two Dollars : . If paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if pay' ment be delayed three months, and Three Dollars if not oaid till the expiration of the year. } ADVERTISEMENTS will be inserted at the follow1 ing terms: For one Square (fourteen linos or less) in the J semi-weekly, one dollar for the first, and twenty-five cents for each subsequent insertion. In the weekly, a mimro fnr thft first, and thirtv-se 8t)VBUIi|-Ulowiuio jrot mjMu..... , ven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single insertions one dollar. Semi-monthly, monthly and quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a single insertion. & rarThe number of insertions desired, and the edi* tion to be published in must be noted on the margin of all advertisements, or they will be published semi-weekiy until ordered discontinued and charged accordingly From the National Intelligencer. I DIRGE FOR HENRY CLAY. bt 0. b. w., u. a a. Hist I Daughters of Music! the mourners are nigh! The Pitcher is broken, the Fountain is dry! Tis the wail of the widow. Columbia weeps! The Last of the Romans in majesty sleeps 1 Come! weave we a chaplet in olive and bay, Our harp's on the willow. Come 1 weave we a lay! How heavy a burden the grasshopper sings; to the land of o'ershadowing wiugsl fr Ye halls that have echoed full many a time The silvery notes or ms sweetness summits, Be ye hung in mourning! that sweetness no more I Shall wake from the Charmer?his charming is o'er. I Ye hearts that in rapture have hung on its thrill, In you its soft murmurs are echoing still, ^, Let their euphony glide, and their chorusses roll, Wt. A--, waves among rushes die o*ar the shoaL | Let them deepen, and darken, and angrily gwell, I v Like a rock that is dashing down mountain and dell; r Let thorn breathe, let them whisper advice in your ear, I When the dark boor oometb, and danger is near; I Let them burn, let them roar when destruction is nigh, t- And tbe war-cry of Liberty rings in the sky! While Freedom is calling for word or for blow, Let his bravery nerve and his eloquence glow; P Let them bum in the bosom of sire and son I Where there's error to vanquish and Truth to bo won! I. To fields, green with harvests now gathering in peace, Take ye up the chorus that never shall cease. His word o'er the ocean gave peace to the land; . His voice in the Senate linked firmer the band. I Te fields of long ages where glory is wrought, | Behold what a harvest the Reaper has brought! l In the breach ne'er was wanted a freeman to stand, r While life gave its cunning to Clay's fearless baud! I And never was needed a voice in the storm, I While his tongue with its motion and music was warm. I Shroud the plow and the anvil, the compass and loom; I Te artisans gather and kneel round the tomb; I Deck the shrines of Religion in curtains of crape, And the temples of Learning with cypress leaves drape; * Hang the porches with garlands that bloom in tho shade; '* Be the scales of blind Justico in sable arrayed; ^ Tour altars and firesides, your domes and your doors, Be all hung in mourning on these happy shores! Y And hushed be the bugle and silent the drum, 1*t' No hoarse muffled notes trom me oaiue-neia come; Bat Peace, gentle Mercy, and Liberty weep, O'er the urn where his ashes, still living, but sleep. Disturb not his rest till the trumpet shall sound v That calls forth the chosen God's throne to surround! Th? twelve thrones of Cmsar forgotten may lie, And Cicero's fame shall resound in the sky: t<The Republic's white Palace shall crumblo to earth. And the leaves of Clay's chaplet be green in their birth! One age and one country his deeds but record, | Posterity claims him herself to reward. I Pass on with his coffin; lead on to the tomb; [* A nation of mourners follow after in gloom; I His bright eyes shall kindle a thousand no more; His sweet lips abjb.silent, their melody's o'er. People have often wondered, says the Boston Courier, what becomes of theFreesoil and Abolition politicians after they leave this world?a world for which they seem to think themselves much too good. Mr. E. L. Keys, late of the Massachusetts, Senate, and at present the conductor of a furious Abolition journal in Dedham makes the following disclosure in his paper of the bdth ultimo: \ " If there is in the other world any knowledge bf what transpires in this, there must be boistefrons merriment in the infernal regions at the just retribution which has overtaken Mr. Webster and his friends." fF Whether the Freesoflers and Abolitionists will Be flattered by this indication of the particular ^part of the other world which they are destined ito occupy, the Boston Courier does not undertake to say; but they must bear in tnind, continues that journal, that the gentleman who wrote Hhe above is one of themselves, and therefore well acquainted with the sort of lodgings that would Be likely to suit them. A juror in one of the courts of New York, a Bay or two sirce when the jury retired to deliberate m regard to a verdict, anticipating a long eeige, took a bottle of brandy with him. lie was severely reprimanded by the Court, and in addition t?ned $25. IDODBTFUI~ A WUlliuu uuwii-cubi is saiu ww * ly to have gone three whole days without speakmm jug a word to any body. How she must have suffered! |H A countryman applied to John Hogg, Esq., to sell some green corn. "I want. ,^y " HEsaid Hogg. "Well," said the countryman, "you the first hog I ever saw that didn't want | FILIAL LOVE RDWARDE1). BY MRS. ELIZA SONNAR. "You are two parsimonious, Henry," said Mr. D. to one of bis clerks, as they were together in the counting-house one morning: "give me leave to say that you do not dress sufficiently genteel to appear as a clerk in a fashinable store."? Henry's face suffused with a deep blush, and in spite of his eudeavors to suppress it, a tear trembled un his manly cheek. "Did I not know that your salary was sufficient to provide more genteel habiliments," continued Mr. D., "I would increase it." "Mc oolapv ia snffifipnt. sir." renlied Henrv. *~v J ? ? .1 . , ' ' in a voice choked with emotion, but with that independence of feeling which poverty had not able to divest him of. His employer noticed his agitation and immediately changed the subject. Mr. D. was a man of wealth and benevolence; he was a widower and had but one child, a daughter, who was the pride of his declining years.Sher was not as beautiful as an angel nor as perfect as a Venus; but the goodness, the innocence, the intelligence of her mind shone in her countenance, and you had but to become acquainted with, to admire, to love her. Such was Caroline Delancy, when Henry first became an inmate in her father's house. No wonder he soon worshipped at her shri e?no wonder he soon loved her with a deep and devoted attention?and, reader, had you known him, you would not have wondered that his love was soon returned, for their souls were congenial; they were cast in vir| tue's purest mould?and although their tongues never gave utterance to what their hearts felt, | yet the language of their eyes was too plain to be misunderstood. Henry was the very soul of honor, and although he perceived with pleasure that he was not indifferent to Caroliue, he felt as though he must control the passions that glowed in his bosom. I must not endeavor to win her young and artless heart, thought he?I am pennyless and cannot expect that her father will consent to our union?tie nas ever ireaieu me with kindness and I will not he ungrateful.? Thus he reasoned, and thus heroically endeavored to subdue what he considered an ill-fated passion. Caroline had many suiters, and some who were full worthy of her, but she refused all their overtures with a gentle and decisive firmness.? Her father wondered at her conduct yet could not thwart her inclination. He was in the decline of life and wished tosce Caroline happily settled ere he quitted the stage of existence. It was not long before he suspected that young Henry was the cause of her indifference to others; the evident pleasure she took in hearing him praised; the blush that overspread their checks whenever their eyes met, all served to convince the old gentleman, who had not forgotton that he was once young himself, that they felt more than common interest in each other's welfare. He forebore making any remarks on the subject, but was not so much displeased as penniless Henry would have imagined. Henry had been about a year in his sen-ice. Delancy knew nothing of his family; but his strict integrity, his irreproachable morals, his pleasing manners, all conspired to make him esteem him highly. He was proud of Henry, and wished him to appear as respectable as any one. He had often wondered at the scantiness of his wardrobe, for although he dressed with the most ~ ' scrupulous regard to neatness his clothes were almost threadbare. Mr. D. did not wish to think that this proceeded from a niggardly disposition, and he determined to broach the subject, and il possible, ascertain the real cause?this he did in the manner before related. Soon after this conversation took place, Mr. P. left home on business. As he was returniug, and riding through a beautiful village, he alighted at the door of a little cottage and requested a driiik. The mistress, with an ease and polite ness which conviuced him that she had not always been the humble cottager, invited him tc enter. He accepted her invitation?and here s scene of poverty and neatness presented itsell such as he had never before witnessed. * * "This is your father i presume,"said Mr. D addressing the mistress of the house. "It is sir." "lie seems to be be quite aged." " He is in his eighty-third year; he has stir vived all his children except myself" "You have once seen better days." "I have?my husband was wealthy ; but'falst friends ruined mo?he endorsed notes to r large amount which stripped us of nearly al our property, and one misfortune followed anoth er until we were reduced to complete poverty My husbaud did not long survive his losses, am two of my children soon followed him." " Have you any remaining children ?" " I have one, and he is my only support. Mj health is so feeble that I cannot do much, anc my father being blind, needs great attention My son conceals from my knowledge the amoum of his salary, but 1 am convinced that he send: me nearly all, if not the whole amount of it." " Then he is not with you ? " No sir, he is a clerk for ? merchant in Tliila delphia." '* Clerk for a merchat in Philadelphia! Wha is your son's name ?" ''Henry W ." 44 Henry W !" reiterated Mr. D., " why h< is my clerk ! I left him not a fortnight since.' Here followed a series of iuquiries, whicl evinced an anxiety and solicitude that a motile alone could feel?to all of which Mr. D. repliet to her perfect satisfaction. " Yon know our Henry," said the old m'an raising his head from his staff. " Well, sir, thei you know as worthy a lad as ever lived. Go< will bless him for his goodness to his old grand father," he added in a tremulous voice, while tin tears ran dow'n his cheeks. " He is a worthy fellow, to bo sure," said Mr D. rising and placing a well filled purse into th< hands of the old man. Ho is a worthy fellov "^J^^ll^^^vaiit friends." " mentally, as ho was ri ding alone, raminatin^m^|1,'i 'ate interview? " noble boy?he shall not want wealth to enable him to distribute happiness. I believe he loves my girl, and if he does he shall have her and all my property in the bargain." Filled with this project, and determined if possible to ascertain the true state of their hearts, he entered the breakfast room the next morning after his arrival home. " Do you know that Henry is about to leave , us to go to England and try his fortune," he carelessly observed. " Henry about to leave !" said Caroline, dropping the work she held in her band?" about to leave us and going to England !" she added in a tone which evinced the deepest interest. " But what if he is, my child ?" "Nothing, sir, nothing, only I thought we should be rather lonesome.'1 " Tell me, Caroline," said Mr. D. teuderlv embracing her, "tell me, do you not love Henry ? You know I wish your happiness my child. I have ever treated vcu with kindness, and you have never until now hid anything from your father." " Neither will I now," she replied, hiding her face in his bosom, " I do most sincerely esteem him, but do not for worlds tell him of it, for he has never said is was returned." " I will soon find that out, and without telling him, too," replied the father, leaving the room. " Henry," said he as he entered the countinghouse, " you expect to visit the country shortly, do you not ?" " Yes, Sir, in about a month." "If it will not be iuconvenient." rejoined Mr. D., " I should like to have you defer it a week or ' two longer." " It will be no inconvenience, sir, and if it will oblige you, I will wait with pleasure." It will most certainly oblige me, for Caroline is to be married in about five weeks, and I would not miss having you attend the wedding." "Caroline to be married,sir," said Ilenry, starting as if by an electric shock?"Caroline to be married!?is it possible ?" " To be sure it is?but what is there wonderful in that.?" " Nothing, sir, only it was rather suddeu? rather unexpected ? that is all." " It is rather sudden to be sure," replied Mr. D., " but I am an old man, and as the man of choice is well worthy of her, I see no use in waiting any longer, and am very glad you can stay to the wedding." " I cannot stay, sir, indeed I cannot," replied Herirj', forgetting what he had previously said. " \ ou cannot!" rejoined Mr. D., " why you said you would." "Yes, sir, but business requires my presence in *he country, and I must go." " But you said it would put you to no inconvenience, and that you would wait with pleasure." " Command me in anything else, sir, but in this respect I cannot oblige you," said Ilenry rising aud walking with rapid strides across the floor. Poor fellow 1 he had thought his passion subdued ; but when he found that Caroline was soon so irrevocably to become another's, the latent spark burst forth in an unextingnished flame : and he found it in vain to endeavor to conceal his emotion. The old gentleman regarded him with a i look of earnestness. " Henry," said he, "tell t.i.. ?;..i )?i lilt; iriiiiMjr?uu iuu juic gin j i "I will be cnnditl with you, sir," replied Henry, conscious that his agitation had betrayed him, " had I a fortune such as she merits, and as you, sir, lmve a right to expect, I should think mysell the happiest of men, could 1 gain her love." i 44 Then she is yours," cried the delighted" old man ; 44 say not a word about property, my boy - true worth is better than riches. I was only trying you, Henry, and Caroline will never be mar; ried to any other than yourself." 1 The transition from despair to happiness was 1 great. For a moment, Henry remained silent but his looks spoke volumes. At last, 441 will not deceive you sir," said he,441 am poorer thar ' what you suppose I?have a mother and grand father, who are?" 441 know it, I know it all, Henry,' said Mr. D interrupting him. 441 know the reason of youi parsimony, as I called it, and I honor you for itit is that which tirst put it into my head to giv< , you Caroline?she will be yours, and may Got [ bless you both." j Shortly after this conversation, Ilenrv avowee his love to Caroline, and solicited her hand, and it is needless to say he did not solicit in vain j Caroline would have deferred their union unti the ensuing spring, but her father was inexorable He supposed he would have to own to one litth . deception, he said, and they would have Inn j shoulder two ; but that was too much, entirely too much, and he would not endure it; he line [ told Henry that she was going to marry in fiv< , weeks, and should not forfeit his word. 44 Bu perhaps," added he, apparently recollecting him self, and turning to Henry, " perhaps we slial have to defer it after all, for you ha\e importan business in the country alio it that time." ^ 44 Be merciful, sir," said Henry, smiling,441 dit not wish to witness the sacrifice of my own hap piness." a 441 am merciful," replied the old gentleman \ 44 and for that reason I would not wish to pu t you to the inconvenience of staying. You sai< r that you would willingly oblige me, but yoi j could not, indeed you could not." 44 You have once been young sir," said Hen ry. ' 441 know it, I know it," replied lie, laughing 1 . ? ., i . . .f .. I I heartily, " out I am airaiu that 100 many ui u old folks forget it?however if you can post|>on? your journey, I suppose we must have a wed ding." We have only to add, that the friends of lien ^ ry were sent for, and the nuptials solemnized a v the appointed time. The Feast of Imagination.?Having no din - uer, yesterday but reading a cookery book. " ' . J -- - - m n In i.a am- ilrl iTIaiiifestu of the Seceding Congressional Whigs. Washington, July 3, 1832. To prevent all mistake and misapprehension, we, the undersigned, members of Congress, adopt this method of making a joint statement to our : constituents, respectively, and to all who may take an interest in the subject, that we cannot and will not support Gen. Scott for the Presidency, as he now stands before the American People, for the following amongst other reasons: He obstinately refused, up to the time of his iioiuiuauoii, to give any puouc opinion in mvor of th.it series of measures of the last Congress ! known as the compromise ; the permanent maintenance of which with us is a question of paramount importance. Nor has he since his nomination made any declaration of his epproval of 1 those measures as a final adjustment of the issues in controversy. It is true that the resolutions of the Convention that nominated him are as clear and as explicit upon this question as need be ; but General Scott, in his letter of acceptance, which con- ' tains all that we have from him on that matter, 1 does not give them the approval ofhis judgment. 1 This he seems studiously to have avoided. He accepts the nomination "with the resolut'ons 1 annexed"?that is he takes the nomination cum oncre, as an individual takes an estate with whatever incumbrances it may be loaded with; and the only pledge and guaranty he offers for his i "adherence to the principles of the resolutions," 1 are "the known incideuts of a long public life," i <fec. I Amongst these "known incidents1,1 of his life 11 there is not one, so far as we are aware of, in favor 1 of the principles of the compromise. In one, at I lea^t, of his pubilc letters lie has expressed seuti- 1 merits inimical to the institutions of fifteen States 1 of the Union. Since the passage of the Com- 1 promise lie has suffered his name to be helJ tip 1 before the people of several of the States as a < candidate for the Presidency by the open and 1 avowed enemies of those measures. And iu the i Convention that conferred this nomination upon ] hiin, he permitted himself to be used by th efree- i soilrrs in that body to defeat Mr. Fillmore and i Mr. Webster, because of their advocacy of these I measures, a"d their firm adherence to the policy i that sustained them. i To join such men, and aid them in completing < their triumph over, and sacrifice of, the true anil ' tried friends of the Constitution, and the faithful discharge of all its obligations, is what we can I never do. The dictates of duty and patriotism i sternly forbid it, i We consider Gen. Scott as the favorite candidate of the Freesoil wing of the Whig party. That his policy, if he should be elected, would ' bo warped and shaped to conform to their views, and to elevate them to power in the administra1 tion ot the Government, can but be considered as a legitimate and probable result. And, bef lieving, as we do, that the views of that faction of mischievous men are dangerous not only to the ju.'t and constitutional rights of the Southern Suites, (which we represent hi part,) but to the peace and quiet of the whole country, and to I the pcrmaneut union of the Slates, we regard it ' as the highest duty of the well-wishers of the country everywhere, whatever else tliev may do, 1 to at least withhold from him their support. This ! ?we intend to do. Alexander H. Stevens, of 6a. Charles Jas. Faulkner, of Va. , W. Brooke, of Miss. , Alex. White, o^ Ala. f James Adercuomdie, of Ala. R. Toombs, of Ga. 1 James Johnson, of Ga. For reasons to some extent indicated in speech" es ami addresses heretofore made by tho underi signed, they deem it to be their duty to withhold their support from Gen. Scott as a caudi> date for tho Presidency. If it should seem to ; be necessary, we will hereafter, in some form, exI hibit more fully to our constituents the facts and i reasons which have brought us to this determin ation. M. P. Gentry, Tenn. C. H. Williams, Tenn. r Mr. Toombs on the Wiiio Nomination.? " On Saturday, July, 3, the Hou^c resolved itself - into a committee of the whole on the state of I IT^L^r, /Qfnnrt in tli.i nn/1 tnnL- 1111 tli?? w",w"< v- - -r amendments of the Senate to the deficiency 1 bill. 1 Mr. Toombs, of Georgia, in rising, said it was his intention to present to the House and the country some considerations connected with the * approaching Presidential election. The ta*k 1 was not an agreeable one to him. The facts 1 and details were dry and uninteresting, and became important only when considered with reference to that great event. There was but one ; motive which governed him in approaching this 1 ta^k. and that was public duty. The political ~ organization with which he had acted for the past two years had declared the final settlement 1 of the questions which had agaitod the country . for the last fifteen years, in connection with African slavery, to bo paramount to all of policy which divided the two parties of this country.? He concurred most fully in that declaration.? ' It had the approbation of bis judgement, and i be could adhere to it with fidelity. That organization declared that it would support gen1 tleineti in all parts of this republic, in the North ii o.... i. 1 as wen as ouuui, wim coiicunfu wuu iu iu ujmiionupon these great and vital questions. After this long agitation of fifteen years his constitn* ents desired repose, security and an end to this ' sectional strife and they intended to have it if it c could be procured by any action of theirs upon the Presidential election. He then proceeded to speak of the. unauthorized and irresponsible manner of nominating Presidential candidates, pursued since 1832, by outside juntas, combined for the benefit of the spoils. He despised all such assemblages. lie alluded * - nunnntif/i nlntfiimis i\f the Democratic m iun l^|r?VV.^ , ? ? - I and the Whig parties, saying the former aid. , . v$&f iiiiftMiiiiifcMiritii i "larr-iiiiliii better than they expected. Pierce had declared x J that the principles of the Compromise commanded the approbation of his judgement; but Gen. Scott would not 9ay this for fear of "disgusting" the public. Mr. Graham and Mr. King cordially approved of it; but General Scott mere-, ly accepts the nomination with the resolutions annexed?cam oncre?without, avowing what shall be the policy of his administration. Gen. Scott said he did not write letters to secure the nomination. No; but because he did not write them, secured it to him. Mr. Toombs examined General Scott's letter accepting the nomination, and said the General, not considering the platform broad enough, had put two more planks in it. lie thought it extremely unfortunate that General Scott appealed to a long life as a guarantee of his political principles, and regarded every line in the letters vj which he has heretofore written as fatal to him. They all speak trumpet-tongued against trusting him on the question vital to the South. In conclusion, Mr. Toombs expressed the hope that the Union Whigs everywhere would come up to the defence of their great principles, and elect some one who can be entrusted with them tvifh a view to the peace and security of the Re- J public. juggernaut. The idol Juggernaut is probably the coarsest image in India. The figure does not extend be ow the loins, it has no hands, but two stumps n place of arms, on which the priests at times " ' M fasten hands of gold. The priests, perhaps, mortified that the object of their adorations should be so hideous, attempt to account tor it in the following manner " Some thousands of years ago, Maharaja applied to the celebfated manulacturerofgods to make a new idol. This request was granted on condition that Maharaja should be very patient, and not interrupt the work, as it lould never be finished if any attempt was made to see the process. The caution was not duly attended to. The prince endeavored to sec what progress had been made, and it became necessary that he should be satisfied with the imperfect mage. When two moons occur in A'shad, (part of June and July,) which is saia to happen about once in -seventeen years, a new idol is made. A nimb tree is sought for in,the forests, nn which no carrion bird was ever perched: it is known to the initiated by certain signs! This is prepared into proper form by common carpenters, and is then entrusted to certain priests, who are protected from intrusion; the process is a great mystery. One man is selected to take out of the old idol a small box, containing the spirit, which is conveyed inside the new: the man who doe* this is always removed from this world before the end of the year" The head clerk of Pari, himself a Hindoo, says, thate box contains a small quantity of quicksilver, said tcr be the spirit of the nrnrl a a tlia npc^oaa a i panntmnw flio a % aasj ii4iv jyi wvflo w j iuo wv?j v ? the idol is rather an expensive one, the ceremony costing from $2,500, to $3,000, it is quite likely it may not again take place. Dr. Sciulder says that it is snpposed that 200,000 persons visit Juggernaut yearly, and that 10,000 of them die annually. Others think that if all that die at Puri, and upon the road, aud all who sink under diseases after they return home wore included, the number would be nearer 20,000. This does not include those who suffer and die by diseases brought home by the pilgrims. If we remember that this awful mortality, both of the pilgrims, and the people among whom they journey, has been going on for hundreds of years, we can form a feeble estimate of the mass of misery which this honible pilgrimage produces. Lawg of Health. Children should be taught to use the left hand as well as the right. Coarse bread is much better for children than 6ne. Children should sleep in separate beds, and dIiahH nat ?vno*? CUvUlVI 1IVW I' *. Ul Children under seven years should not be confined over six or seven hours in the house, and that time should be broken by frequent recesses. Children and young people must be made to hold their heads up and their shoulders back while sitting, standing, or walking. The best beds for children are of hair, or, in winter, of hair and cotton. " . . Young persons should walk at least two hours a day in the open air. Young ladies should be prevented from bandaging the chest. We have known three cases of insanity terminating in death, which began in this practice. Sleeping rooms should have a fire-place, or i n i i tl :~1 some niocic or ventilation ocsiucs tue hiuuuks. Every person great and small, should wash all over iu cold water every morning. The more clothing we wear, other things be* ing equal, the less food we need. From one to one pound and a half of solid food is sufficient for a person in the ordinary vocations of business. Persons in sedentary employments should drop one third of their food, and they will escape dyspepsia. Young people and others cannot study much by lamplight with impunity. The best remedy for eyes weakened by night * use, is a fine stream of cold water frequently applied to them.?London Lancet. "The sun is ali very well," said an Irishman, "but in my opinion the moon is worth two of it; for the moon affords us light in the night time, when we really want it; whereas, we havo ? the sun with us in the day time, when we have ?*a AA/oicmii if IIU IWI 'Tat, do you know how to drive ?" asked a Yankee traveller, in Ireland, of tho keeper of a jaunting car. "Sure I do," was the answer; "wasn't it I who upset your honor in a ditch two years ago S"