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-i wit f T.-1'.vj i 'uj r
v V-V"? A exi.T ra1)
i of
-M
IIV 'iv'ii.t ci 1 JVJ i it .'!! M
H. B. MASSER, EDITOR AKp; PRQPBIETOR.
OFFICE, CORNER OF CENTRE ALLEY & MARKET STREET.
.X"
Oii.1
I..-' 1:'
II yamflg gtospp(rTgtbot lo jJoUtfcg, , actt rature, iUoraUtg, jTortfcn an Pomamc fletog, Scfrnte anli the arts, arfnilturr, iar(t(ts, Slmttsemrnts, c.
.a
,-IT.VJ
NfevT, 8JER1E9 VOL. 1, NO,' 41,
..;v?,HFwT'!?fMVK?A.'''" CotJNTY, PA., SATURDAY, JANUAlV O, 184D.
OLD SERIES VOLi 9 NOi lil.''
... .. ... . , ..... ...... .......
nTi:TTT:. ifN .a-Ah:v,T-;T.-.:!T3
. IrttRMS OF THG AMERICA IV.
ijc THB AMERICAN U pabUfbad ever tnrr at TWO
JIB aaitat diwailinuii anill all arrearnirea are mid.
vuiiiiAUB par annum io ot pwu nail yearly in advance.
Al aamaiuuiCauoiil or letlara on buiiiieaa relalinf to
V&td ihaara attention, rnuat be POST PAID.
the
1 ull Hvf. TO CLUBS.
Three aepieatp one addreaa,
Seven . , Do , . 1)0 .
500
1000
fifteen iBo '! !- Do : ': ' ooo
Five doikne in advance will ear Tor Uuae jrear'a tabactip-
VII W lug juuerrau.
thia Square of 16 linen, 9 timet,
rerv eubaeqoent hvwrtion, . ' ' ' ' :
f)ie Square, 3 roonthi,
ih., ! . '
11 fM
t50
S7S
300
near, :
ieaa Carda or Five linei, per annum,
arcaaata and othera, itrivertiiing by the
year, with the privilege of iuaerticg dif-
fareiit advertiaemeiita weekly. -.
XW Larger Advertiaemeiita, aa per agreement.
looo
A T T 0 RNEYATLA W,
BVXTBtrRT. PA.
: Baiitiea eilemtcd lo in the Conntiea of Nor
htimberland, Union, Lycoming and Columbia.
Refer tot
P. Ac A. Rovockt.
' ' ' I.nwra & Barron.
8oHKa St 8nonoAi, yphilad,
RlTirOLtia, MCf ABL.BB 4 uo,
SrtaiKS, 'ioou Si Co.,
, THE mEAP BOOK STORE.
DANIELS & SMITE'S
CiiRAr New & Second hand BookSiohi,
Xorth Wtit corner of Fourth and Arch Street;
rMlnrttlphta.
Law Booke. Thcoloirirel and Claaaical Booka,
MBDICAZi BOOKS, '
BIOGRAPHICAL HISTORICAL BOOKS,
SCHOOL HOOKS.
SCIKNTIFIO AND MATHEMATICAL BooKf
Juvenile Books, in great variety.
Hymn Bookt and Prayer Books, Biblea, all sizes
ami price.
Blank Books, Writing Paper, and Stationary,
Whaltiale and Mlrtatl.
Om prices are much Inwer tlmn the rkcttlar prices.
I.ibianea ana einnii pnrcew m dikik. puiuw..
Honki imporlMl to onler from lomlon.
lilndelphia, April 1, 1S48 y
"ORTEB. & S1TGLISE,
lOrERS COMMISSION MERCHANTS
and Denlera in Seed,
Ae.3, Arch St. PHILADELPHIA.
ttantly on hand a general assortment of
CERIES, TEAS, WINES, SEEDS,
LIOUOKS, SiC.
which they respectfully invite the attention
' of the Dublic.
All kinds of country produce taken in exchange
for Grocenea or told on (Jommusion.
Philad. April , 1848
BASKET
' IrlANUFACTORy,
Jft. 15 South Secnnii street Eal tide, down ttairt,
, PHILADELPHIA.
HENRY COULTER,
n ESPECTKULLY informs his friends and
ML,u . public, Ibat he constantly keeps on
band a lare-e assortment of chi drens wil ow
Coachea. Chairs. Cradles, market and travel
ling baskets, and every variety of basket work
-manufactured. .
Country Merchants and othera who wish to
urchase auch articles, eood and cheap, would
do well to call on him, as they are all manufac
tured by him inthe best manner.
Philade'phia, June 3, 1848. ly
, CARD & SEAL. ESIGRAVIWO.
WM. G. MASON.
4S Cheinut tt. S doort above 2nd it., Philadelphia
Ktacrave el BUSINESS at VISITING CARDS
Watch papera. Labels, Door plates, Seals and
Stamps for Odd Fellows, Sons of Temperance,
he., etc Always on hand a general assortment
of Fine Fancy Goods, Gold pens of every quality.
Do Collars in if r eat variety. Engravers tools
nd materials.
Agency for tba Msnufacturer of Glaziers Dia
annnda. .
Orders per mail (post paid) will be punctually
attended to. .
Philadelphia, April 1. 1R48 y
. 30rff3EJTE"3B35MLISS "
FIRST VRBXCIUIS PIAZTO TOKTSS.
fiHE SUBSCRIBER has been appointee, agent
9 for the sale of CONRAD MEYER a Cr.LE
BBATEDPRE-.tITJ.-rl ROSE WOOD PIANOS,
at this plaea. Thete Pianos have a plain, mas
sive and beautiful exterior finish, and, for depth
of tone, and elegance of workmanship, are not
surpassed by any in -the United States
These instruments are highly approved of by
the most eminent Professors and Composers of
Music in this and other cities.
For aualities of tone, touch and keeping la
tone upon Concert pitch, they cannot be aucpaa
ed by either American or European Pianos.
Suffice it to say that Madame Castellan, W. V
Wallace. Vieui Temps, and bit sister, the cele
brated Pianist, and many others of tba most dia
tinquished performers, have given these instru
ments nreferenea over all others.
They have also received the first notice of the
three last Exhibitions, and tbe last Silver Medal
by the Franklin Institute in 1843, was awarded
to them, which, with other premiums from tbe
same source, may be aeen at tbe ware-room no.
S3 south Fourth at. -
(jyAnotber Silver Medal was awarded to C.
Meyer, y the Frabklin Institute, Oct. 1843 for
the best Hano in tbe exhibition.
Again at the exhibition of the Franklin Insti
tute, Oct 1846, the first premium and medal was
awarded to C. Meyer for his Pianos, although it
had been awarded at tbe exhibition of the year
before, on the ground that he had made still great
er improvement) in his Instruments within the
past 13 months.
Again at tbe last exhibition of the Franklin
Institute, 1847, -another Premium was awarded
to C. Meyer, for the best Piano in tbe exhibition.
- At Boston, at their last exhibition, Sept. 1847,
C, Meyer received tbe first silver Medal and Di
ploma, for tbe best square Piano in tbe exhibition
These Pianos will be sold at the mannfaetu
rer's lowest Philadelphia pricea, if not something
lower. Peraons are requeated to eall and exam
ine for themselves, at tbe residence of the sub
scriber ' ' H. B. MASSER,
Sunbury, April 8, 1848. ' ; '
TEE .CHEAP . 'V.: '
Brush. ' Comb and Variety
store.
BOCKIUS AND BROTHER, i
,. " RUSH MANUFACTURER. -
AND DEALERS IN COMER VARIETIES
Afc N Kort TkirJ, behut Mat St. and North
' " Ejtt eonner of Third and Market utriet,
razz,Aosz.rHZA. - ''
ITTHERRthev ffer tor aala s-enersj asaort-
W Boent pfall kind of Brushes, Combe and
yarletiea which tber are determined lo Sell
Lower than ran be purchased e eewhere.
Country Merchants and others Purchasing In
tba above line will find it to tbeir advantage to
call before purebasing elsewhere aa the quality
and prices wiU be fully gaaranteed against fell
eempetitioa.
Philadelphia, June 3, 1818 Jy-
THE CARRIER'S ADDRESS
. PATRONS OP THE "AMERICAK"
' , ikkoxkr i, 1849. '
Kind Patroni, I wish you a happy New Year,
And many return g ot the same,' do you hear !
1 have no time to spare ; I'm olTin a crack,
A r4 Artlfr -nort fmll riit lltai moAYxf f tantf
I nl,u " J vis ivn jvm Miat cmviij issvat
S3 I ine means to enjoy tne line lun ana goou
' ' cheer ' ' '
That are always afloat at thistime of the year ;
And thought if I'd only drop in upon you,
That, of course, you would cive to tbe Devil
. his due;
A DOLLAR, a QUARTER, a HP or A DIME,
As a slight recompense for this rare bit of
rhyme,'. "
That t worked off to-day for your special
pleasure,'
Which, while I trudge on, you can read at
your leisure.
My grandmama says, aud I don't know the
; cause, ;
That things are not now as they once used
to was,
When the sir loin, at Christmas, aye smoked
on the board,
And the pantry with plum cake and dough-
r nuts was stored.
When the best that the house and the cellar
could boast
Was shared with the poor folks who had not
a roast ;
And while this fair season of feast held the
sway,
Each tried how much good he could do in a
day.
Just think of it too, the kind hearted old elves
Cared that others should have as much fun as
themselves.
But ours is the age of lightning and steam,
We're hurried along like the ghost of a dream ;
With a dash and'a splash we are off and away,
And see more of life in the half of a day,
Than the good folk of old could manage to
hear,
Ifall stories are true, in the space of a year.
For five or six year our old patriot sires
oiled away with a spirit that never tires,
o make themselves free, and upset an old
king, ;
While the French have accomplished the
very same thing
In less than three days, and the rery same
game
Is setting the whole of the old world in flame.
The contagion has spread to the seasons at
And has given that savage king Winter a
blast: '
For a few days ago, the sweet gentle Spring
Came along on a spree, gave the old one a
fling, '
At once cast him down from his icicle throne
And set up a government mild as her own.
Perhaps you have read the last President's
Message,
If so, (the Lord help you,) you've there seen
the presage,
Of sources of riches immensely prolific,
Away on fhe shores of the distant Pacific j
Of gold dyst that's scattered wherever you go
As thick o'er the ground as you now see the
snow.
From our swamps a miasma is said to arise
Which poisons the people wherever it flies ;
Bearing disease on its pestilent wings ;
Thus up from these vast fields of gold dust
there springs,
To the winds that sweep o'er California's hills
A miasma as fatal as any that kills.
It has spread through the States and is very
prevailing,
And the fever 's assumed a type most alarming
Every ship, brig or schooner that daily is
sailing, , . .
With crowds of its most fatal cases is swarming,
And the palienlsare now in so sad a condition
As completely defies (he most skillful physi-
Till 'the. doctors at last have acknowledged
the corn,' ,
It can only be cured by a sail round the Horn.
Since I called with our last year's address at
your door . . .
An end has been put to the Mexican war.
"We have conquered a jic," at a pretty
round price, , ;
But never mind that its a very fine slice, ,
The valleys and hills with riches abound,
And gold is so plenty that it cumbers the
, ground,
But poor devils, like us, have no right to de-
bate
On the measures of those who ha,ve charge of
.', , the state; ,
But, since the gold dust has so well stood the
test, . : ,
Decide that whatever they've done 'a for the
best, . .. .
And farewell my friends, I will now let you
. hear,, ., -...
In conclusion A Thought roa thi Dying.
Old Yka. , , .
The dying year has just assumed
A mantle of pure: spotless sheen, .
Ere, in the gloomy past entombed,
It sink among things that have been; i
As aged men too oft put on . '
I he robes of holy purity, -
When life's sure goal Is almost won,' '
Ana yawns death's deep obscurity.
And when is o'er the nigh of death ;
f :
loo happy they, if then ihey rise, ) :
In the same f-arb, with dying breath.
They chose to fit them for the skies ;
As now the New Year brightly breaks '
; In the same snowy vestments deep
Purs as the new-born infant wakes
F rom its first sweet nd blissful sleep.
A BIRTHDAY STORY.
' r ' AOSY DAR ' 1
OLD ZEKE'S DAUGHTER.
BY MRS. E. M. SEYMOUR. ' ' '
One of the loveliest of the ' thousand
lovely spots that adorn the valley of the
Connecticut was the haunt of my child
hood, i It might have been a haunt ot fair
ies and wood-nymphs; for they could not
have found a sweeter or more secluded
gamboling ground; and I did sometimes
think I heard strange whisperings in the
air, and fairy like music floating around
me ; and I sometimes imagined I saw tiny
footprints upon the Velvet moss. True, the
sober thought of years rather discards the
idea, but we love to loster childhood's im
pressions; so I will cherish this, with every
flower and leaf and ripple of the sinsins
brooK, : and light and shadow which are
daguerreotyped upon my heart. I would
love to take you thereto-night, dear reader,
and by the light of this first autumn moon,
talk of the days of "lang syne." Come, sit
with me upon this mossy bank, and see the
soft moonlight flirting with those, dam. 'ng
ripples.
i'erhaps some of you, who have never
seen Miss Cynthia out of the city, have
always thought her a staid and sober dam
sel ; but I assure you that in the country
she frolicks about in a most unmatronly-
iike jnanner. bee her, now dancing down
that brook, and now playing bo peep with
us through those thick branches, and whisp
ering soft words to every green leaf that
turns its face towards her, and casting lov
ing glances on these sweet flowers at our
feet.
And now follow with me this little
brook ; we will pluck some of those vio
lets that fringe ' fit edge for a momento :
now step across the brooks and there, in
that little wood beyond, is my Eden, but
l cannot take you there, dear reader. J here-
I always go alone. A word the slightest
whisper there, would break the perfect
harmony that breathes around. I would
hear no voice but nature's there. The gen
tle sighing amoug the leaves, the occasional
chirp of an insect, or twitter of a bird," or a
falling leef, speak in more eloiiuent tones
than ever breathed through earthly lips.
Ana men the sometimes perlect mysterious
silence which not even a trembling leaf'dis-
turbs it lulls myfspirit, subdues every
worldly passion, and with folded hands I sit
listening to the still small voice communing
with my. soul. '
Do you see, through the opening ' be
yond the wood, that little white cottage ?
That was the home of my little hproine. '
Old Mr. Mejwood, or old Zeke, as he
was always called, was one to whose pov
erty misfortune had been added. He was
a cripple, and unable to do little else than
ride to the village and leave at the doors of
his customers the products of his little farm,
which was his only means of support.
These were few, but he always found a
ready market for them ; for every one said
that old Zeke's vegetables were; the best,
and his eggs the freshest that were brought
to town, and that the berries that pretty
Rose Melwood sold, were the sweetest that
were ever tasted t indeed, 'every thing
which Rose Melwood, had, or said, or did,
was the best in the world. '- . .
Rose lost her mother in very early child
hood 1 and between herself and her father
there existed the greatest fondness. She
did not love to hear him called "Old Zeke,"
for it seemed to her to give an impression
of unworthiness ; but it was not so, for
everyone respected the old man. I do
not know how he came to receive that cog
nomen, but I think it was because his in
firmities made him seem much older than
he really was, and it was something of a
feeling of pity that prompted it. But Rose
did not love to hear it ; and always, when
speaking of her parent, she would call him
her "dear, dear father;" always was she
saying some kind word, or performing some
kind action, any thing to make her dear
father happy. And she was his idol ;
"Rosy, dear," he always called her, and
every one else came to call her,' except
when some naughty child at chool, who
had his falsehood exposed by her undevia
ting truth, would call her "Old Zeke's
daughter." But Rose was the name , that
all loved to call her by. She was the pet
of tbe village : every one was glad when
she came, for she always brought a happy
lace ana neart along witn ner; aunt Mary
used to say she brought a whole shower of
happiness, to sprinkle over every body. .
But Rose Melwood had her day of sor--row;
and that was when Julia Weston re
fused to invite her to her birthday party.
This party had been the grand subject of
talk, among all the school girls, during
"recess" and "whispering-time," for half a
year. All expected to attend ; all knew
what they would wear; and all hoped
most earnestly that it would be a pleasant
day-.
Rose Melwood knew in her little heart
what she intended to do that wav : but she
had told no one, for it would be such a
sweet surprise, she thought, to, bring a
wreath of flowers in April. . Everv dav.
after the snow was off the ground, she w6uld
look by the brook and in the wood for tbe
first flowers, to see how they came on .
She knew just where the trailing Arbutus
nia iweii, ana wnere tne nrst violets would
sprint up, and she felt quite sure they
would be in bloom before Julia's birthday,
' The morning previous to Julia Weston's
birthday, I had .invited . Rose and two or
three of her companions to walk, with me?
and just ax we entered a path wb,ic)b led
through the wood," Rosy darted away, ex
claiming, Jamgqng t) , hid i from "you
now. but I , will be with you . soon." . Mv
young friends; wandered off, one by one, in
search of flowers and winter-green, , anal I,
had just entered too path which led to my
loved retreat, whn I saw through the trees
that it was already tenanted, and on coming
nearer, discovered Rose Melwood. 'She
was unconscious of my approach. ! and . I
never sawa sweeter subject for a painter
than she was at that moment. She was
sitting upon the ground, ,with her lap full
of flowers, and a hall-formed wreath lyin
i ! j . , . .... r
uesiue ner. ner bonnet had lallen bac
upon her shouldersj and her long fair
hair was falling in rich clusters upon her
neck ; her small white hands were clasped,
and her full blue eyes were turned towards
heaven, with an expression of perfect pu
rity, love and holiness. "0, Miss Emily!"
she exclaimed, as soon as she observed me,
"is not this beautiful It seems just hea
ven to me." ,
"O, Rosy dear! where did you find your
flowers?" exclaimed our companions, com
ing up at this, moment; "we have been
searching every where, and have not found
one."
"Oh! I know their hiding-places," re
plied Rose, smiling ! "see here will not
this be beautiful?' she exclaimed, holding
up a half woven wreath : "this is for Julia
to wear on her birthday."
tint you are not going to her partv "
exclaimed one. ,
"Why, yes, of course I shall go." re
plied Rose, "I know Julia expects me to
go." .-.
"But she told me yesterday she should
not invite you."
"Why not?" inquired Rose, sorrowfully.
"BecausO," replied another, who seemed
somewhat vexed that Rose had found so
many flowers,' "because she says she don't
want old Zeke's daughter at her party."
Never shall I forget the expression which
passed over Rose's countenance at these
words : its was not of anger, but of mingled
sorrow and resentment, which one experi
ences when they feel that theyTiave been
undeservedly slighted by those they love.
She spoke not a word, but her eyes filled
with tears, and after a moment's silence,
she said, "Well, I will send her the flowers
she will like them, I am sure."
The truth was, Julia had heard, and
talked, and thought so much of her party,
that she had begun to imagine herself a
much more important personage than she
had done before, and to think that she must
be somewhat select in her invitations; so
after some consideration, she decided that
it would sound vpry unnristocratic to have
it said that old Zeke's daughter was at her
party. Bpsides, she was a 3'ear older than
Rose, which very much enhanced her own
mnortance, she thought; so, without con
sulting her parents, she decided that Rose
Melwood should not come to her party,
But Julia little thought that by refusing
admittance to Rose she was depriving her
self and others of all enjoyment. Hut so it
was, for when all were assembled, there
seemed some, one wanting. jSo one seem
ed happy, and each whispered to the other.
"I wish liosy dear- was here," and when
Frank Weston and two or three of his
school felows came into share in the sports,
nothing seemed to go right.
"Why, wheje is Rosy dear?" exclaim.
ed Frank in surprise, after looking around
the room
"Julia wouldn't have her here," exclaim
ed half a dozen voices.
"I should like to know, Miss Julia West
on, why you wouldn't have her here ?" in
quired Frank with spirit.
"Because I didn't want her here," repli
ed Jiuia, a little tartly.
"Because she is old' Zeke's daughter," re
plied several voices. ' - 1
"Well, I wish, Julia, you were half as
good as old Zeke's daughter," exclaimed
Frank. "I declare this is outrageous. She
shall come, or else I don't stay here."'
"Nor I, nor I," exclaimed the other em
bryo gentlt'men. ; .
At this moment Mrs. Weston entered
the room.
"Why, what does this mean?" she ex
claimed, "I came to see how happy you
were, and really there is not one happy
face in the room ; what is the matter?"
' "Rosy dear is not here," exclaimed a
dozen voices. '
"Rosy not here I Why, what is the
reason V inquired Mrj. Weston, in sur
prise.' ' . - I-.', -i . . t
. "Why, Julia has acted like a dunce.
She has not invited her," replied Frank,
"Not invited Rosy? Why, Julia, what
does this mean ? I thought surely you bad
invited her." ,
, Julia had by this time begun to repent
seriously of her conduct. The pirty which
she had looked, forward to with so much
happiness, had been, so far. nausht but
wf-rtchedness, and all in consequence of
her foolish pride. So she acknowledged to
her mother the reason, and expressed her
sorrow.
At this moment a light tap was heard at
the door, and a little girl who lived neigh
bor to Rose entered with a beautiful wreath
in her hand, and presenting it to ulia, said,
"Rosy dear sent it to you."
The scent of the flowers filled the room.
and all gazed eagerly at such a quantity of
flowers at that season. . . ... :
"Oh ! where did Rosy dear find them ?
I could not find one,'? all exclaimed- ':
,, .-"She always knew where the first flow
ers grew," exclaimed one of the boys, ; . 1
"She always knew ten times more than
any other gift about everything," was the
rather ungallant reply of Frank Weston. .
Julia stood holding the wreath, looking
sorrowful and ashamed. .. ,
" "My dear," " exclaimed Mrs. Weston,
"you are not worthy to wear thisr wreath
to-day the one who deserves it must wear
it. ' Put on your bonnet and go down to
old Zeke's, and make the best apology you
can to Rosy. Beg her pardon, and ask her
to come and spend the remainder of the
day ; lor I am quite sure there will be no
enjoyment unless shq is here; and she is ao
good girl, I think she will not refuse to
come, though you have treated her so ill,
Frank will entertain your company' while
your are gone,' and 1 hope you will yet be
happy. ! m .
The two girls were soon seen returning,
and as they entered the door, all exclaimed,
"I am so glad you have come, Rosy dear;
now we will be happv."
"But first," said Mrs. Weston, "let us
dispose of this beautiful wreath.' It should
not lie withering here. Julia, it was sent
to you, but I presume you do not feel that
you deserve to wear it, so you may place it
upon the head of the one you think most
deserving of it."
. Julia took the wreath, and with a smile
and a kiss, placed it upon Rosy's head, amid
the shouts of the children.
"Oh, I had much rather you would wear
it, dpar Julia," exclaimed Rose. "I am
sure I never intended it for myself."
"The good we do to others," said Mrs.
Weston, "often returns upon our own heads,
and 1 hope the lesson, Julia, you learn will
bo of far more value than the wreath."
Soon after this event old Zeke and Rosy
left our village, and went to live with a
rich relative at the South, who adopted
Rose as her own daughter. .
Years paased away. Frank Weston, who
had established himself in a distant city,
wrote for Julia to come and spend the win
ter with him. Julia joyfully accepted the
invitation. As soon ns she had arrived and
had been welcomed by her brother, he
said, "I have an invitation for you, Julia,
to act as bridesmaid this very evening."
".Pray, for whom? inquired Julia.
"To a certain lady who is to be my
wife," replied Frank, laughing.
"Ah ! you rogue ! Why did you not
tell me of this before?"
"I knew that you liked pleasant surpri
ses," replied Frank.
"But I cannot tell whether it will be a
pleasant one until I know who is to be
your bride. Come, tell me quick, who is
it?"
"No, not until we are married, so now
prepare yourself, and hasten to the wed
ding." When Frank Weston led in his bride,
Julia thought she had never seen a creature
so perfectly lovely. But brides are always
beautiful, and perhaps she was not more so
than many others; but Julia thought so, and
I think Frank thought so too. But it was
not her beauty alone that rivetted Julia's
gaze ; it was an impression that she had
seen that face before, but she could net tell
when nor where.
When the ceremony was over.and Frank
presented Julia to his bride, "Do tell me,
my sister," exclaimed Julia, "have we
never known each other before ?"
"Dear Julia, have you forgotten old
Zeke's daughter," whispered the the beau
tiful bride.
A sudden remembrance, such as, in some
hour of your life, reader, has flashed over
your mind when you have seen a face or
an object that called to recollection bygone
days, came over Julia's thought. She
pazed earnestly at the fair girl.for a minute,
then clasping her hand, and turning to
Frank, she exclaimed, joyfully, "Rosy dear!
yes yes it is indeed her it is our Rosy
dearl"
(From the Natchez Free Trader.
LIFE IX MISSISSIPPI. .
Married, on Suturdny, the 11th ult., In the court house,
by the Rev. Jo. Bell, Mr. William Peary, to Mias Caroline
Uudfjieth, all of Uua county.
The minister has just been elected brigadier-general
of this brigade, and, when called
upon to officiate at the marriage ceremony,
was busily engaged in calculutinghis majori
ty, which was large, having no opponent. In
another corner of the house was a group of
men calculating the loss of Cass and gain of
Taylor; and in the door of the house stood
the deputy sheriff, soiling a poor fellow's corn
for a small suspicion of debt ; while the pro
bate clerk, at his table, was biffily engaged
in callipg olTlhe land assessment book; and
in another corner of the house stood a group
of boys swapping marbles. The minister
commenced the ceremony, while the Taylor
man called out 104 gain for Taylor there, and
the Cass man said ,;d n the luck." The
sheriff shouted '-how much for the corn
who'll give more for the corn ;" the clerk
called out the "N. E. quarter of the west
half of section 12, township 13, range 12
township 13, range 12 east;" and Bill in the
corner cried out, "I wont give you two blacks
for a white allee." But under all the disad
vantageous circumstances, the reverend gen
tleman, with his maiden laurels fresh upon
his brow, retained his gravity and performed
the ceiemony; and as he finished the bene
diction, he remarked to the happy couple that
"Edmonds only received one vote In this
county." : v
,' i i " 11 . , , , i r , .' ,
- Adjusting tub Mouth. The London Go
tettt contains some important information for
tha ladies with regard to the manner of pla
cing their lips when they desire to look amia
ble, dignified, &c; it says that when a lady
would compose her mouth to bland and se
rene character, she would juat before enter,
ing the room say. bettor, and keep the ex.
pression in which tha mouth subsides, until
the - desired effect upon tbe company is evi
dent.! If, on tha other hand,, sha wishes to
assume a distinguished and somewhat noble
bearing 'not suggestive of . sweetness, sha
would say BrtuA, tha result of which is in.
flalible, I If sha would make her mouth small
and pretty sha must say Flip, but if the mouth
be already small,- and needs -enlarging, sha
mast say Cabbage. Le-diea, I whan having
their daguerreotype a taken may observe theaa
miss with soma advantage? .u.T ri In.
'"f.'-e, m .t. e p 1 if -if p) .-'j 7
Tba Indiana Legislature is discussing tha
question of slavery extension- ,
REAL
t ' LIFE. ' J '"' !
A correspondent of the Tribune, writing
from Buenos Ayres, gives some further par.
ticulars of an affair which has already been
mentioned, which is one of the tragedies of
real life. The father of the lady alluded to
was of Irish descent, and the correspondent
adds: . ,.;
"Mr. O'G.'s ancestors came at an early
period to the New World, and he is now the
last male descendant of his race, an accom
plished gentleman, married to a superior wo
man of true Spanish blood has a good pro
perty though not rich. ; The joy of his house
was his daughter Camila, who, from her fa
ther inherited the clear complexion, dark
blue eyes and blue-black hair, peculiar to the
west of Ireland. From her mother the grace,
form and gait of the Andalusian. Indeed, to
use a sporting phrase, she was a perfect cross.
Her mental qualities were a happy combina
tion of the wit arid vivacity, natural to her
father's countrymen, with the repose and self
possession of her mother. Accomplished and
better educated than most young woman, she
naturally sought for companions who were
most distinguished for intelligence. Scarcely
eighteen, she had all the precocity of intelleo
which distinguish women of a southern clime
and give them the aplomb of our women of
thiity. . .
The curate of the place was Don Sancho
Gurtinez, who could also boast of the best
blood of the province inhis veins. Educated
at the College of the Jesuits, he was remark
able for his talents, intelligence and acquire
ments. These good judges of character were
proud of him, and selected him as a suitable
representative of their order, ngainst his own
inclination, but persuaded by a fond mother,
who had become a rigid devotee, he unfor
tunately consented, and took the solemn
vows of priesthood. Ha was just 22 years of
age, of a commanding, graceful form, of a
clear olive complexion, with a piercing black
eye. His wholo soul was absorbed in his du
ty, and ho was held up to the degenerate
priesthood as a perfect model for his devo
tion, bearing and correct conduct.
Don Sancho was a constant visiter at the
hospitable house of the father of Camila. by
whom he was not more warmly welcomed
than by the lovely girl herself. In him she
had found a congenial soul ; the poetry and
liteiature not only of her own country, but
that of France, Italy and Germany, gave them
an untiring subject of of conversation and ar
gument. Then studies became the same, and two
or three years glided on in uninterrupted hap
piness. The teauty, wit and accomplish
ments of Camila had brought numbers of sui
tors for a husband. To all she gave a deaf
ear. From some speculations, her father had
met with losses, and the political troubles of
the country made him anxious Camila should
make choice of a husband from the many ad
mirers who surrounded her.
Don Sancho and Camila then for the first
tim knew they loved. -
You may conceive the conflict between
duty and passion in the lovers. They fled
end escaped to a small town in a neighbor
ing province, where, under assumed names,
they were married. ......
The Church was outraged. The bereaved
parents, in their phrenzy, solicited the Gov
ernment to look for the fugitives. Six or se
ven months passed without their being dis
covered ; and the affair was being forgotten,
when, unfortunately, a curate for the town of
their refuge was sent from Buenos Ayres
He recognized his old college companion
informed, and they were arrested, and in irons
sent to this citv. With a refined cruely they
were placed in the same cart ; but separated
by a guard, they were not allowed to com
municate, Twenty days of journeying over
tKe wretched roads, exposed to the inclement
season, was sufficient to shake the stoutest;
but she, though enciente, (in two months
more she would have been a mother,) bore
the hardships and privations uncomplaining
sustaining by her example her sinking lover
who, perhaps, knew too well the probable
fate which awaited them. Upon their arriv
al, the Church claimed him as her own, and
were ready to mete him the punishment al
lotted by the canons for the blackslidin of
her Priest. But no 1 The Government had
taken the matter into its hands and, with
out trial, both were condemned to the death
of felons, by superior order. You cannot un
derstand this phrase, living in our happy
country of Law and Order. Here the voice
and will of a single individual is supreme.
Where the people intrust the power into the
handsof one, they unfortunately must bear the
consequences. You already know the history
pf Rosasand never has a country felt a more
iron rule.
The execution took flace at the military
encampment a few miles from the city, on
Friday last. . The poor culprits had but one
day's notice. The priests who were ordered
to administer the last saored rites of tha
Church, were chosen from the highest digni
taries.., Tba unhappy couple were duly confessed,
and horrible a it may appear, tha unborn
Child was baptised in the bosom of the mo
ther, ' Gurtinex came out pale and shrinking
Camila firm at the first ; look he fainted ;
sha gave a ory so heart-rending that ona 6T
tha attending .priests was carried off ia a
swoon. She, however, soon roused herself
and addressing her reoovering companion,
raroinded him of their love, and t hsugh in
tha eyes of snan it might be sinful, sha had
faith in tha goodness and justice of God, and
aeon they would meet in a butter world, ne
A SOUTH AMERICAN T RAO EOT III
ver to be again ' separated. Sha urged rhim
to be firm and the struggle would soon be
over. She refused to have her eyea .banda
ged, but with a modesty belonging to her. sex
requested her dress might be fastened round
her ancles: She was clad particularly, peat.
Throwing her beautiful tresses over her face,
she ca'my sealed herself beside her lover asd
their arms were bound to the post. A fije
of soldiers was advanced the order given
to fire not a trigger was drawn, for in .tljn
hearts of those wild men there still was some'
thing human. They were withdrawn under
arrest, and a guard of Pampa Indians, not so
sensitive, advanced within five yards of the
poor victims aud fired. They bolh fell . dead
without a .groan. ,
The Captain of the guard on whom devol
ved the service of the day, slung by remorse,
or actuated by a more - noble sentiment,
formed the troop into a square round the mu
tilated corpses, and addressing his comrades,
said : "I have obeyed my orders, but my bu
siness is nut to shoot women" then drew
his pistol and blew out his owu brains. ,7;
I have given you a hasty sketch of this
heart-rending tragedy of the poor parents I
have not heard but in the lown there is but
one feeling, that of horror ! the whole city is
aghast at so terrible a punishment, and that
two beings, with their loving offspring, though
still unborn, should suffer for having . .
"Loved not wiacly but too well,".
passed belief. But the details are so minute
that I am most unwillingly obliged to admit
its truth. : . ,. .. ,
THE ISTHMUS OF TEIIUAXTEPEC. ,
The immense importance with which our
possessions on the Pacilic Coast have been s0
sudJenly invested,-is exciting universal specu
lation in regard to jhs speediest mode of com'
municatiou between the two oceans The
New York Tribune has taken strong ground
in favor of a canal across the Isthmus of Te
huantepec, as possessing superior advantages
over all other routm. The New Orleans pa'
pers also are urging the projected canal in '
preference to a railroad at Panama, but in
the latter case, it is no doubt in a great mea
sure done with a view to attract the immense
commerce of "the Pacific to New Orleans.
Trhuantepec being about 1,000 miles nearer
that city than Chagres. In ihe Tribune of
yesterday we find the following additional
facts in favor of the canal, communicated by
a gentleman who resided for sixteen years on
theCiver Cbatzacoalcos, and is familiar with
every part o'f the route: ' '
'-'It is now important to be ascertained
which is the best and most fea iblo route, not
only far the transmission of the Mail, but for
the conveyance of passengers and govern
ment stores to California The Panama route
is now spoken of and is brought up before
Congress for its action. , By . that route.the
U. S. Mail can be carried to . San Francisco
in about forty days at present, and passengers
may reach our California and Oregon posses
sions at an expenso of about S450. . AH.. he
peculiar advantages of that toute have been
aircaay communicaiea 10 tne puuuc ny inuso
interested.. I will now call the public atten
tion to a much shorter and cheaper route j the
Isthmus of Tehuantepec , By looking at tha
map of Mexico, you will find the mouth of the
Coatxacoalcos river, situated in N, lat. 18
desr. ":',.
'It is navigable for ocean steamers about
20 miles from its mouth ; its general course
is due South, and it is navigable for small
steamers to within 50 miles of the Pacific 0
ceaK. The continent is just two degrees wide
say 130 miles. On the Pacific Coast is the
City of Tehuantepec, about three leagues dis
tant from the port of San Francisco, a lake or
inlet of the Pacific Ocean,' which, it is said.
affords sufficient water for large vessel to en
ter. The writer of this article resided on the
banks of the Coatzacoalcos sixteen years, and
crossed the continent sonie fifty times; 'he
therefore feels himself competent to give a
practical opinion upon the subject, '1
"If a partial arrangement was made with
the Mexican Government, the United States
mail could at present be transported across
the Continent from Coatzacoalcos to Tehuan
tepec, in from 60 to 72 hours ; and at a trifling
expense the road could be shortened so-ss to
bring those two points within 36 bourses' each
other. A line of small steamers, sues as are
used on the Ohio river, would enable passed
gers tocross the continent In 48 hours or less.
Merchandise would, with the actual condi
tion of the roads, require sums six or eight
days for its transportation. I will now sura
up the time that would be required to carry,
the mail from New Orleaiis to San Franciscu,
iu California, under existing circumstances,,
provided a partial, arrangement was matU
with Mexico viz : From New Ovlean t,
Coatzacoalcos, 20 hours; thence toTehuaute
peo or the Port of San Francisco, 72 houri'j,
making, in the aggregate, 6 days and IS hou :.
.iv 7 diiva. . From thn Mpyicnn Pnrt r:
Tehuantepeo or Sun Francisco, to our, .
Franuinco in California, say 12 days ; mitki!i;;k
in all, 19 days. Practical men, by looking nt.
the map, can deoide. whether the time I nvt
allotted for the ocean navigation issufficitt.
"In regard to tha transit across the Conti-
nent, I speak from positive knowledge.' This
subject cannot but interest tbe Amariosn peso,
pie, aud I beg you will lay the fscta before
them,. I will .illustrate ,the positive I,.hava.
here assumed, ,b-a facts and proofs whirls'
caonet fail to convinoe our Governmnnt that,
tha route of Tehnantepeo is by far p-eft-ra-j
Me, f vary j-j jiiit,o-t y Ww, to that of Cha efs aud
Panama. A Railroad fan be built for 910,-
000,000, which would bring tbe twa tXcene
within five h'vjrs of esefc twhor "