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VO Ij. XV.
THE mm JEFFEMIR
18 I*OOI.ISMF.n EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
BY WILLIAM CLINF,
At Two Dollars and Fifty Cents per an
ntun> or Two Dollars paid in advance.
AOVKTnSEMI'NTS :ire inserted t OVK;
.111 nor square, (or the ri'>t insertion, and
FIFI'Y CEBITS per square, for phcli insertion
I hereafter.
-V rcasir ■ di'duriniii will t>e made to those
vvhondsf .• hv the year.
\!t r- .fiscmerits not otherwise ordered, will
‘■eeur: er! III! Itirliol.
’('• j-If.ES OF LJLX’DS l>v Administrator- 1 ,
K**. dors or Gna'di.mp are required li< law to he
he'd on the first nlav in the month, between
the hours oMen in thr-(orenoon and three in thr
ai’i renoo, :! | the Court-House, in the eounty 111
‘•'hi di The Hu:l is situated. Notice of these sale,
hi ist tie oiv.-n m.l tnt’ilic oiizett vFOßTY D^SYS
lire-hnns •< t!ie day el"sale.
•*’ lEES OF .YEGROES must he made at p.ih
!'<■ miction on llie first Tuesday of the month, he.
ween the iiitul liours of sale, at the place ol puh.
he sales la the count v where the letters Testa,
nen'ary, of Administr *tion or Guardianship may
have been ..ranted; first j/iving FORTY D.IYS
notice l|.c ,-of in one of rite public gazettes of t!ij 0
S a*:-. and at the e mrt house who e such salears
tu fc. hrid.
Not re for the sale of Personal Property must
given in like manner FORTY IXIYS previous
i 1 oe day of sale.
Notice to Debtor® and Gredifors of an estate
must he published FORTY IKIYS.
Not tee Hint apulieation will lie made to the Court
Ordinary for i.f.avf. to sei.i, land must he pub
lished for two Mo.yms,
Notiee (or I.EaVK to sei.i. ntorof.s must he
poV's'vit TIVO MONTHS before any order ab
sn'itt” shall ho nia !e thereon by the Court.
CirjriOYS tor Lett'Ts of Administration,
must He nohlished thirty Days; for Dismission
f-om \d moistr.ition, moktiii.y six months; for
I):s n'ssf>n from Guardianship, forty OaY .
Holes ior lie I’oreclnsure of Mortgage must be
p I'.Mshed MINTIIt.Y FOR FOUR MONTHS,’ estah
psh'ng lost ria per s (or the foil space of three
Months; tor com,le ling titlrs from Kxeeutnrors
\<hnieis'r;t es.wheie a l>ond luislieen given hy
he <i-e.;| ,-dt he fill! space o’ MIREK MONTHS.
” * I
The Itfeetiiiff.
On Monday the 10th nit. the tnetubers
e,r the Democratic parly at Milledgeville
held a meetinjr in the Representative
Chamber, at which, we understand, much
harmony of feeling and unanimity of senti
ment prevailed. Col. John D. Stell accd
s chairman. Gov. Cob!) whs there, nnd
itiiim one ot his ol 1 fashioned Democratic
t p°e , hes. Mr. Howard, of Crawford, also ;
addressed the meeting. By tlie following
resolutions ii will bes :cn that the meeting
renewed tueir pledges of support to Mr.
Bierces administration, and, in the lan
ig.n?e of the resolution, “views Lis’ friends |
as our friends, its opponents as our npp) i
nents"’ l’nis is the true Southern as well I
as Democratic policy. As long tu Mr.
1* *rcc in at the hia i of affairs, supported
aalsasUiied by the strong arm of the
Democratic party (in which tern we in
ch le all the friends of State Rights) the
g nraatecs and privileges of the South un
der th- constitution are entirely safe—the
<:o npr vuiso will be sustained—abolition
agitation will be kept down—and the
Southern States be left to manage and
regulate tuid: own internal affairs after
their own wisdom. But should the South
in an evil day take ground against Mr.
Bierce, it will be the watchword for the
>o it.o i sts to renew their onset upon
Southern institutions, and Seward and his
▼iie abolitio t gang will not fail to make
the must of it. Mr. Bierce nukes an able
President, and the South should give him
her cordial support. We subjoin the re
solutions passed at the meeting:
Resolved, That the principles and senti
ments declared by the National Democrat
ic Convention of 1852, remain in unim
paired strength as the bond which draws
together the Democracy of every section
of our country in sympathy nnd union,
and that the Democratic party of Geor
gia avails itself of this occasion toneitcrate
its cordial acquiescence in them
Ihsdred, That we recognize in Presi
dent Pierce a long-tried, patriotic and eon
sisreut exponent of those principles and {
Kcutiments—that his exposition of them in
his Inaugural Address an 1 recent message
to Congress meets with oir full concur
rence, and having unabated confidence in
his fidelity to them, we pledge to his ad
ministration oar cordial support, and view
its friends as our friends, its opponen’s as
our opj.-or.ei-Is.
Resolved, That the Democratic party of
Georgia emphatically avows its construc
tion of tire Baltimore platform of 1852, in
reference to the slavery question, to be
a distinct repudiation of the principles of
the Wilnot Proviso, in any future organi
zation of territory now in our possession,
or hereafter to be acquired, and that we
cannot recognize au one as belonging to
the Democratic party, who shall seek to
enforce, or shall advocate this principle
so repudiated.
lltsolved, I’hat while our warmest sym
pathies are due to th >sc Northern Demo
crats who, amidst the storm of fanaticism
o the slavery question, which has raged
in past years in their section of the Union,
et<-od liruily on the rights of the South, wo
recognize as Democrats all our fellow citi
zens of the North who no.v stand firmly
with us on the platform of the National
Democratic party, and are therefore pledg
ed to defend the South from any assaults
upon her insti utions.
Resolved, That to the ascendancy and
integrity of the National Democratic par
ty, based as it is upou the principles re
( ognizc 1 in its platform, the people of the
South can confidently look, as a guaran
tee for the preservation of the reserved
rights of the States, withiu the Union, and
especially of their constitutional rights
1 wita reference to the institution of slave
o\
poe following notice of Gov Cobb’s
and! \f* Howard’s speeches we extract
from trfe Federal Union:
Gov. <3tobb was then introduced to the
meeting, for an hour and a half rivet
ed the atte non of the whole assembly.—
It ; s the opinion of every oue present, that
this speech of Gov. Cobb was one of the
most masterly elf -rts ever witnessed liere.
The spirit of this address was as line as the
mutter of it, and uo one had to complain
•foil* captious or ill-conditioned remark.
wft ’ Georgia leffersoniait.
But ou the contrary, the democrats of ev
ery wing of the party were addressed as a
united brotherhood, having a cdninlon in
terest and a common fate. Never have
we listened to a series of more scathing,
crushing attacks upon the devices and
pretexts of Georgia Conservatives. The
speaker wished to know why it was that
a whig never did justice to a Northern
democrat, while he was m peace and fel
lowship with his party; why was it that a
few were singled out of a vast host from
New Hampshire, Illinois, Pennsylvania,
and other States, and that they-should be
canonized, while others equally ns faithful
should suffer the grossest injustice? said
Gov. Cobb, their sympathy with these
Northern democrats, never begins till
miue ends—never begins till an attack is
made upon a democratic Administration.
Upon tliis point, illustrating the fact that
the whig party was ever a party of expe
dients and not a party of principles, the
Governor was happy beyond measure.—
In short, his whole review of the policy
and principles of the democracy of this
State, contrasted with so called Conser
vatism, was most forcible and just. The
whigs present were discomfited when the
speaker did such full justice to the Dick
inson party. He warned the whigs pre
sent not to deceive themselves in their cal
culations upon support from the Hards of
New York. He assured them that in no
event would that party—so deeply radica
ted in the principles of democracy, ever go
to the whigs -and if they had ever sup
posed that such men as Dickinson and
Bronson would strengthen the hands of
the enemies of democracy, they did not
know them. On the other hand, Gov.
Cobb warmly welcomed to the ranks, eve
ry man, however opposed heretofore, to
the platform of 1852. Repentance first,
then confession of faith, was all that any
man had a right to ask. To exclude con
verts was the policy of revengeful men—
not that of statesmen or patriots. To
General Bierce lie awarded a noble tri
bute He expressed a perfect confidence
in his fidelity, truthfulness, and ability,
and he called upon u* to give an ungrudg
ing and zealous support to his administra
tion. Nothing could be more satisfacto
ry than the views expressed in reference
to the present differences among demo
crats nnd also to our future policy The
resolutions after an exposition of them by
Gov. Cobb, and his powerful advocacy,
were unanimously adopted
Col Thomas C. Howard was loudly
called for. Col. Howard responded to the
call in an effort marked with great ability
He defended the President against the
charges that he was a Freesoilor and a
Bacitic Railroad man, by reference to the
sentiments of the President, as proclaimed
in his late mersage to Congress. VV£
have heard Col. Howard on several occa
sions, and always with extreme pleasure;
and on no former occasion have we felt
more forcibly the soundness of his reason
ing, the force of his logic, the keenness of
his sarcasm, and the power of his elo
quence. (’ol. Howard, though compara
tively a young man, is an ornament to his
party, and an honor to the State’
After Col. H. concluded, the meeting
adjourned.
The War in Europe.
We have private information from St.
Petersburg of the most positive nature,
and of ineontestible truthfulness, brought
by the Pacific, which throws some light
on the complicated Eastern drama The
Russian disposable forces oil the Danube at
the beginning of hostilities amounted *o
more then 35,000 men. Only a single ar
my corps, that of Gen. Dunncnberg, origin
ally crossed the Pruth. Gen Luders, with
another eorp, remained in Bessarabia, and
near Odessa, in order to be able to send
reenforcements both to Asia and the prin
cipalities. The corps under Osten Sack
en was cantoned still further north in the
Ukraine. Each army corps numbers
50,000 men, nnd seldom more. Deduct
itig the thousands in hospitals, and the
detachments occupying the fortified places
iu the principalities, Gorehakoff could
scarcely dispose of as many as 35,000 to’
oppose the attacks of Oiner Pasha* No
body at St. Petersburg imagined that
open hostilities woulj so soon begin. The
declaration of war by the Sultan, as well
as the almost immediately crossing the
Danube, took the Russians both in Buche
rest and St. Petersburg wholly unawares.
The Czar and his councillors believed to
the last that bullying Turkey and her
supporters would suffice to bend them to
his demands. Now Nicholas is taught
better and is exceedingly dissatisfied with
Menchikoff. The Emperor never seriously
wished for war, and does not now wish it,
though he says he will never submit to be
dictated to by England and France. It is
therefore impossible to foresee what will
be tke influence in St. Petersburg of
the recent military and diplomatic events.
i'hc excitement in Russia, and above all
iu Moscow, the heart of the Empire
whose pulsations act powerfully ou the
masses of the people through the whole
country-tins excitement is on the increase
and of the most dangerous character, lie
cause it is religious. The wealthiest mer
chants of that capital are among the dis
senters from the orthodox Russian
Church, a td are generally not on good
terms with the government, but now they
have offered millions of rubles to carry
Oiit the holy war. This ex ample will be
followed by other cities and communities
iu tho interior. On the other hand, we
are informed the Servians and Montene
grins are kept quiet as yet by the united
exertions of Russia and Austria. If how
ever, no pacification should take place
during the winter, Europe is really ou the
eve of a terrible conflagration. In such a
ease it is decided in the Imperial Council
to open a serious campaign, by stirring up
all the elements of general discord Pos
kewitch will then be put at the head of the
army, numbering ab.ove 350,000 moil, and
will march—if he can—directly on Con
stantinople. Other corps d'elite, such as
that of the grenadiers and of the guards,
130,003 iu all. under the personal com
mand of the Grand Duke Alexander,
the heir apparent, will be drawn up in
echelous between the theater of war and
. Poland, which will be occupied by some
50,003 meu of the Guards of the Interior,
all of which are veterans. In Poland the
GRIFFIN, (CA.) THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 12, 1854.
peasantry take no interest in anything*
and am chance exists there for a success’
fulTnsurrectlori. Preparation on an exten
sive scale are now being made in the
military colonies of cavalry near the bor
ders of the principalities, and the signal to
rise will be given to the Montenegrins nnd
l Servians when their services are wanted.
As yet, however, the chances arc about
equal. M ith the spring We may see dis
played the white flag of peace or bloodred
flag of war. Should the latter be the case,
Europe will be paralleled into two hos
tile camps r iio power of the second or third
order being able to remain neutral. How
they will divide it is difficult to foresee
precisely, bnt peace will be nowhere.—
The first hostile acts will be marked by
blockading the Baltic, the Buxine, and
very likely the Mediterranean. The A
merican w.ll be the only neutral flag
Even Holland, Sweden, and the German
free cities will soon be obliged to side with
one or the other of the belligerents. But
God grant that they may not have occa
sion to make the choice! Assuredy a
general war cannot lead to freedom any
where.—N. Y. Ti ibune 29 th ull.
From the New York Sunday Jlllns,
THE NUN.
BY JAMES B. NEWIIALL.
The traveller, fts he approaches the city
of New York by water, from the east, will
observe, standing at some distance inland,
upon a wooded declivity, an imposing,
dark gray stone edifice, with ponderous
towers, from which he at once perceives,
there must be a commanding view of the
great metropolis and the adjacent cities
and towns; of the charming country thro’
which the bright rivers thread their way;
and in the hazy distance, of that great
meeting place of waters, the wide spread
bay, where congregate the couutless mes
sengers of commerce from all nations of
the world.
On a pleasant afternoon last autumn, I
had occasion to pass near the edifice above
alluded to, and was so charmed that I left
the road, and climbed a ragged bluff.
While seated there tracing the diversified
features of the little world in which 1 was
centered, nothing astonished me more than
the rapid spread of the city eastward.—
Year by year we see a few lordly habita
tions rear themselves among the green
woods, and presently those woods have fa
ded away, and the mansions are centered
in an active population. Then other man
sions appear in the shady retreats beyond,
soon to become, in their turn, centres of
business and activity.
Leaving the bluff which had been my
seat for au hour or more, and passing a
cross the lots towards the main road on
the north, I unexpectedly came upon the
cottage of an old friend, where, in my
youthful days, I sometimes dropped in to
chat au hour, during my Sunday afternoon
rovings—it then being far off in the quiet
country. The good family still lived there,
but the aged master, they told me, was in
the vicinity of the Nunnery, the turrets of
which were just visible among some oaks
on a secondary height, not far from the
edifice first spoken of. I determined on
looking him up and making myself known,
if forgotten, and was not long in compass
mg my object. I found him engaged in
some occupation upon the beautiful grounds
of the Nunnery, in the management of
which institution he had some part
During the conversation which I held
in the garden with ray old friend, he itici
dentally imparted to me the strangely in
teresting information that, from the fret
ted portals of that same recluse habitation,
to a green and sunuy grave, had just been
borne all that was mortal of “sister Eliza
beth St Clare.” And, as by one of those
remarkable coincidences which seem like
special providences, I had that day read,
in au Eastern paper this obituary:
4 *Died, in Larin, on Monday evening, aft’eV a
long and painful ilbioss, wined In bore with c!iri<-
lun resignation and fortitude, ,!<>q
one ol the in >Bt respectable and mfl icntiai cittz -ns.
Few go down to the grave leaving a bright f'r
name for h mor and usefu'ncas.’’
Tiie reader who peruses this narrative
will not wonder that the names of these
two departed ones created in me a Strange
commingling of feeling.
We will go back something more than
twenty years, to the time When I was first
made acquainted with the occurrence which
gave these names a lasting place in my
memory.
It must have been in 183), or there
about, that, as I was one Sunday after
noon passing by St. John’s Park, in New
York, I was met by a young friend, who
urge !me to accompany him to church. I
replied that I was then on my way to my
own church, aud should be happy to have
him accompany me, if he could bring his
mind so far to profane the Sabbath as to
enter a sauctuary of heretics. He was a
Roman Catholic, and attended the Cathe
dral in Mott street With a smile, he de
clined my invitation, saying that he must
go to his own church, as he wished to de
liver a message to someone whom he
could meet there, but in no other place.
This seemed a novel reason. And there
was some mystery in the fact that he could
see a person there, who was invisible else
where. But strange tilings happen some
times in churches, as well as other places.
He evaded all inquiries, and was quite
earnest. iSo I took his arm. We crossed
Broadway and entered the dingy old build
ing just as the soul-moving vesper chants
had commenced.
The service was concluded, aud we lin
gered near the southern entrance till most
of the worshipers had retired. Theu came
the train of little charity subjects, accom
panied by the nuns, in their plain, neat
dresses, and little hoods, each with a white
handkerchief in their left hand. Not one
raised her head, or glanced to the right or
left hand. My friend seemed anxious to
press quite close to the door through
which they passed At length as the last
oue stepped upon the threshhold her hand
kerchief dropped. He instantly sprang
forward and replaced it in her hand; and
as he did so, I was sure that he slipped a
note into its folds. She did not raise her
eyes, but passed quietly on, and they were
all soon gone.
The next evening I was at my friend’s
room, and in the course of some pleasant
conversation, hinted that I had observed
ill) movement with thp halken.hicf, and
perceived that he instantly understood the
hint, perceiving also that it did not effect
him pleasantly. His vivacity at once for
sook him.. After a brief silence, he ab
ruptly asked:
“Have I not heard you say that yon
were a native of Lynn, Massachusetts? ’’
“Very likely,” I replied, “for such is the
fact.”
“Then perhaps you know Mr. ?”
“I do. He is one of the most respecta
ble men in the place.”
Respectable! He is a dog! I tell you
he is.a dog!” he responded with great vc
hemence. “0, I suppose you mean by re
spectable that lie is wealthy—such is the
interpretation usually given to that abused
term. But what did you see me do tho’
on Sunday?”
I told him and amplified somewhat a. on
the charms of the veiled beauty.
“Well, t own that I did so,” lie frankly
replied. “And now I suppose I must toil
you the whole story, or you will think
strangely of me. Perhaps you will, as it
is, but no matter. The young sister to
whom you saw me hand the note, is indeed
a beautiful creature —naturally of an ex
tremely lively and affectionate disposition
She is a near relative of mine. And tho’
she possesses the brightest prospects in the
outward world, I am persuaded that she
enjoys far greater happiness in her reclu
sive home, than she could by mingling
with the gaieties au;l frivolities of fashion
able life. She is very happy amid her pi
ous labors for the good of the little strag
glers you saw under her charge. But the
note which I gave her was for another—
for one who never conics into the world,
and who, though still young, lias felt quite
enough of the pangs of life to loosen her
attachment to its active scenes. She is
one whom I knew a few years since as the
gayest and happiest of all-the youthful cir
cle In which I spent many happy liours
during a summer residence in your native
town.”
“And what is her name?”
“Here it is, written by her own hand! - ’
and lie handed me, from his writing desk,
a card, oil which was written in a beautiful
hand, the name of Elizabeth St Clare,
which he informed me was her monastic
name. Upon the other side of the card
was the name her parents gave her.
“And what of her history?” I demand
ed.
“It is a sa l one,” he gravely replied.
“And I must give you at least the outline,
if for no better purpose than to relieve
myself from the delicate position in which
jo ir discovery has placed me ”
“He proceeded substantially, as follows:
“Elizabeth is a native of Lynn. Her pa-’
rents yet live there; and the note which !
you saw me slip into the handkerchief eon-,
tained information respecting them, which
I had that very morning received. They
do not, however, know that she still lives;’
and it is’ not her desire that they should, J
for she would not pain them with the tho't
th t she yet endures the pangs that mem
ory must inflict. Rut she still loves her {
h< iri; and all things belonging to it, with :
all th; ardor of the first love of an affec- 1
tionate heart-with a love that years of ab-1
se ice and apostacy from the paths of vir- [
tue, nay that even the injunctions of our I
holy faith cannot obliterate. And for
many mouths, mine has been the sadly j
pleasant office of transmitting to iler, thro’j
the medium of my pretty relative of the’
white veil, whatever information I could ;
un suspiciously obtain respecting them. (
“Mie was about eighteen when I resided i
in your beautiful town, and possessed in a i
‘arge degree those un ‘efinahle qualities of i
mind and heart which arc always sure to j
endear their fortunate possessors to all a-:
round them. And to her superior graces
of mind were added unusual charms of |
person. Oar acquaintance was intimate,;
a:i(l for a bug time after my return to the
busy scenes of this city, her smiling face l
would come up as a bright picture in my ;
raemiry. I had obtained her promise to;
correspond. For some time, we frequent
ly interchanged our lucubrations; but final- j
ly of a sudden, the correspondence on her
part ceased; and it was vain that I endea-,
vore Ito learn the cause. A year passed, j
hud I unwillingly deemed myself stricken ;
fro n her roll of friends. Then I thought j
that perhaps she had become a happy
bride, and from a delicate sense, had given
up that mode of recognizing old friendship.
“Many months had passed since I heard
a ward from her, when, one bright moon
light night, as I was pursuing my way
homeward, I was accosted by an elegantly
dressed female. Having been so frequent
ly saluted before in the same tnanuer, when
I happened out late, I should have passed
ou as usual, without taking any notice,
ha l I not somewhat fancied that the voice
was one that l had before heard. Turn
ing suddenly around I cast my ces fall in
her face, and you may judge wlnt my sen
sations were, when I recognized in the frail
one, tliis same Elizabeth St. Clare. She
knew me and would h ive fled, bat I de
tained her, determined to know what had
reduced her to that sa.l-state, and instant
ly resolved that nothing should be spared
I I restore her to the paths of purity and
peace I bade her take my arm, as that,
woul 1 be the best mean; of- avoiding sus
picion, in case of meeting acquaintances.
She did so, and we passed along. She
told me her tail of woe. It was, in brief,
th it this same respectable townsman of
yjurs and hers, wooed her, ruined her,
and cast her from him. That same old
story of country fifo tfliich lias its finale on
the city pave. And the sin is charged au
the place where it end’. I do not ima
gine that your reputable townsman feels
any pangs for the terrible blight lie has
occasioned, for such beings probably have
nothing left for the undying worm to gnaw
upon.”
“Bnt way was the matter hushed up?”
“A strange question for yoa to ask.
Did you not say that he was a respectable
man; an l does not that answer? And do
you not know that women too commonly
regard such things in our sex as purdona
ble galla Aries, and favor with their srnilcs
th se who commit them?
“Elizabeth soon left her first place of
retirement, and wandered forth with
thoughts, and feelings, hopes and fears, all
strangely altered. Step after step she
proceeded down in the path of degrada
tion, making merchandise of those charms
i which Would have graced the saloons o
refinement, till she had attained the
awful position in which I so aid iier. She
Wept bitterly, and T felt the warm tears
fall on my hand. In agony she exclaimed,
that the thought of her homo of purity
and peace, standing, as it seemed from
1 her then position, more then half way
up to heaven, sometimes flitted with
overpowering energy through her brain.
T could not harbor the lixhtest doubt of
her strong desire to regain the paths of
virtue.
“At tho corner of Walker street I left
her. The next day I provided suitable
lodging, and used every endeavor to
render her happy. Weeks passed, and
T was well repaid in a thousand expressions
of sincere gratitude for all my po ;r la
bors in her behalf. The rose of health
began to bloom upon her cheek, her mind
was budding forth with fresh vigor, after
her long winter of degradation and despair.
My paren 4 s sometimes invited her to our
house, for I had m ule them acquainted
with her story, though it went no further.
She attended our church, where I had
provided her with accommodations in a
friend’s pew. And when the fresh ten
drils of her renewed heart sought objects
around which to entwine themselves, our
holy faith presented itself as a worthy
object for their most affectionate attach
ments; and I am happy to know that they
am now firmly fixed where there is no
betrayal .She afterwards entered as a
no v ice, and during her novitiate continued
to merit and receive the warmest appro
bation of the patroffs of the order. Final
ly she retired and took the veil, which is
to forever exclude her from the false and
heartless world, where such sad experi
ence has been her lot u
The story is told The sorrows of
Elizabeth St. Clare are ended. Ali i so
are the joys of that respectable man. And
it seems easy to j u lge which of the two
will need the largest u imber of wax can
dles to light their way through pur
gatory. Andean the re tier wonder tint
I should have been forcibly struck by
what seemed so much like special provi
dence —the betrayer and the betrayed,
after so long a per od, being called, lit the
same moment as it were, face to face, be
fore the final judge. We flippantly talk
jof “mere coincidences,” and of “cause
and effect;” aud thus ui pride aud self
sufficiency, assume to be able to explore
the ways and measure the power of Otn
nipitance.
F-'o n l.it difluloi S/j 1 1 i'd ‘iZ.l ti/t
Explosion of the Steamer Marl
borough.
Our community were amused yester
d.y morning by the occurrence of a mos
painful calamity. The s'.ea ner Marlbo
rough was wrecked at the Atlantic wharf
by the explosion of her boiler. She was
loaded for Chcraw and different landings
or. Fee Dee river, and was backing out
from tke wharf for the commencement of
her voyage, when the accident occurred.
The boat had commenced firing up about
seven o’clock, shortly afier which Cap!.
I S.nadwood came on board, the pumps
j were used, steam was raised, the last pre-
I partition* for departure were completed,
’ both engineers were at their engines,
; each having his engine at work, the deck ;
i hands were at their several employments, j
■ the Clerk, Mr. C B. Holmes, had station-:
ed himself ou the aftor deck, the Captain
| hid gone to pull upon the bell, the lines
were being thrown off from the wharf, and
1 there was evrry promise of peaceful and
; prosperous voyage, when the explosion
• une, ami a scene of greiter calamity
j was exhibited than has often been wit
! nessed iu the annals of our city.
! The crew of the steamer, as near as can
| be ascertained, consisted of the Captain,
I VV. M Smallwood: mate, Captain Bullet);
.clerk, C B. Holmes; Ist engineer, Daniel
| Stone; 2d engineer, a colored man; two
pilots,one cabin boy ami thiee white and
four colored deck hands, and one passen
ger—sixteen in all.
It is impossible, even now, to state th* 1
extent of injury sustained, but the result,
l as far as ascertained, is frigh'ful. Tne
i captain, mate, Ist anti 2 l engineer, and
cabin-boy were killed, one white hand
1 was blown overboard and has not been
found, two colored deck hands were bad
ly scalded, one of ihe pilots was bruised,
and the clerk and throe white and one
cotore 1 deck hand are all wh >m we know
to have remained unhurt; and, to complete
the hoirors of this dire catastrophe, while
it was yet uncer ain w'hether there might
not stili he some-of the unfortunate suf
ferers on board, the boat took fire and
was soon enveloped in (limes. At the
time of this sad accident, she was along
side the ship Delaware, from Bath, and
the utmost efforts of our active fire com
panies were necessary to keep the ship
from burning.
Toere were many painful incidents of
this catastrophe, which in coming upon
the ground, we were compelled to wit
ness. Ir. the deck, anl clinging to a por
tion of the wreck was a b )at hand who
was badly scalded, and could scarce sup
port himself until assistance cam Upon
N >rth Atlantic whats, between the bales
of cotton, lay a'colored man, whose face
was charred and mangled, aud who,
though breathing, was beyond the help
of any human kind. Futther on the same
wharf, lay the mate, mangled and dead
There were shouting and hurryingsto and
fro about him, but with his face covered,
and the cool morning air upon him, he
was tranquil as though wrapped in the
most peaceful slumber. Toe Captain lay
in the s earner Marion, with many friends
around him, but he too was cod and
dead! A relation and an old and attached
friend strained through the crowd to reach
him, but the sight was too much, he stag
gered and fell into the arms ot those who
had followed him. A little distance from
.he Captain, lay a poor negro, whost
clothes and flesh had been stripped from
him to permit the treatment of h:s wounds
Further on lay another. He moaneu
ta >st p.tiously, and those who heard him,
needed no other assurance of the intensity
of his suffering. Through ali this scene ot
suffering and death, the fire still raged,
and finding it impossible to subdue iht
flames, the L-oai was fastened to steam
ooats and dragged a way from the shn
ping into the stream* Iht escape ol the
cierti, Mr Holmes, r a< trulv wonderful
fie stood upon the upper deck—the deck
was shattered into fragments* but spring
ing towards the water, he caught upon
its utmost edge, swung under it, the edge
alone reinained, an 1 when the smoke sub
sided, he elected his escape.
r The boiler of the boat was thrown to
the distance of some three hundred feet,
broke through the cot'on house of M r .
Oils Mills, where, lying upon a pile of
cotton, it was found a short time after.
Captain Smallwood, was about thirty
five years old, but lias itft no immediate
family to mourn his loss.
Os the cause of tins calamity, nothing
has yet been learned; Toe clerk who
was on hoard, acd who could have no in
terest in the statement, assures us that the
engineer was habitually pruden'; that
Captain S nallwood has often said the
boat would never explode for the want of
water, and is certain that the pumps were
going dining the morning before the acci-j
<ie it occurred.
Tne boat was insured as to her hull, in
the sum of SI,OOO, and as to her cargo
in SIOO, in the South Carolina Insurance
office, and we have he.i’J of no other.
The steamer Marlborough has been in
service about dire* l years, and was owned
by a general and several special partners,
the most of whom are residents in the
city. She was engaged in a general trans
portation business between this and the
different points upon the Poe Dee river,
and was value 1 at about twenty-four
hoiisand dollars. Her cargo, as near a<
we can learn, consisted of 2To sacks sal'.,
6 hhds. molasses, 27 bbls. sugar, 45 bags
cotfee, 57 lihds. and bids, liquors, 427
packages merchandise.
An inquest was held yesterday morn
ing by Coroner Dcveaux, upon vv’ ich,
however, little evidence was elicite 1 as
to the facts of this disas er beyond what
we have embodied in our statement
above.
As we luve already stated, the fiie
companies of the city were pio nptly at
the scene of this calamity, an I although
unable to arrest the burning of the boat,
by keeping the fl lines in check, by remov
ing the ship Drtlaw We to a more securt
position, and by finally towing the Marl
borough in the stream, they succeeded in
pioteciing the property in that vicinity
from any further injury. In contributing
to the peiformance of this service, we re
gret to slate that a member of thir E
gle Fire Engine Ghunpany had the bones
of one of his hands haJlv fractured.
lenuy LinA asid the Baby.
We have seen a great many things writ
ten of Jenny Lind and the baby, but uone
more sweet and touching than the follow
ing: It is one of those delicious little hits
of newspaper writing, which, for genuine
eloquence and feeling, is not.surpassed by
the happiest efforts of our best orators:
“Jenny Lind, the peerless, the nightin
gale of the north, lias got a baby ”
Well, what of it? Hasn’t Jenny Lind,
the peerless, the nightingale of the north,
a right to have a baby, we should like to
know? Would you always have her sing
| mg to the cold world, warm as it may lie
Ii; admiration of her songs, charming it by
her sweet notes? Must sl\.e always be
warbling to gaping crowds, who gaze up
on her only as a public performer? Look
into the nursery where Jenny’s baby sleeps,
in its tittle cradle, and hear the low lulla
by of h-r sweet voice. See how fondly
she gazes upo i the helpless thing, and
when it opens its little eyes and looks
trustingly up to the face of its mother, hear
how she warbles the “Bird Song,” to
charm it back to sleep. Listen to the an
gelic sounds! There is no effort, no art
in that seraphic music. It comes gushing
forth front a heart full of a mother’s affec
tion, overflowing with a mother’s yearn
ing. How soft and low it is, and yet how
full of tiic hi tensest love. Bel still! Ap
plaud not! It is nature, supremely sweet
though it be. Disturb not the enchanting
harmony by the voice of praise! See,
those little eyes have closed again. Jen
ny’s baby sleeps, and the song lias died
away - vanished slowly, like a dream or a
shadow, into silence.
‘‘Rock !licra.llf,” Junny.
But why, we ask again, should not Jen
ny, the world renowned Jenny, have a ba
by to love, to kiss and hug, to toss in the
air, and trot upon her knee, and cherrup
to, and tumble about, with all a mother’s
doatiag playfulness? She has conquered
fame!—shall she linger in solitary age,
and die alone at last? Shall the heart’s
affections be wasted in the pursuit of am
bition; and shall no loving and trusting
faces cheer her through life, and stand a
round her death bed like bright visions
locking upward toward t'ae sky? Shall
she walk the world’s high places co npan
ionless, and without a staff for her age to
lean upon? No. Ten thousand times
dearer to her mother’s heart is the crow
ing, even the cries of that little one, than
the lott lest applause that ever went up
from the crowded audience, on the diy of
proudest triumph. Ten thousand times
sweeter is its smiles than the fragrance of
the flowers that were showered upon her,
as a tribute of admiration to her transcen
dent sweetness of song. Yes, yes; ambi
tion is nothing-*-triumphs are nothing—
adm ration of the World, fame and wealth
are nothing. The mother looks upon her
little child, her heart clings to its feeble
ness, and all other worldly things vanish
away.
‘‘R.tcli iho cra lle,” Ic inv .
Go out and sing to the greut world
never again—pass forever from its gaze,
to sit calmly* by the domestic hearth,
gathering young"litt'e ones around you,
teaching them the value of the divinity
that stirs within them, the duties of life,
and hope of eternity Tell them the
littleness of fame, the folly of ambi
tion, the beauty of holiness, au 1 the home
with the just*at last. And when angels
shall gather around the Grewt white
Throne, among the voices that shall min
gle in the song of the redeemed, yours and
V heirs shall be heard in the full volume
of their sweetness, chanting the praises of
trm that livct'u forever.”
The Bahy’4 Complaint. •
Now, I suppose you think, beciuse you
never see me do anything but teed and
sleep, that I have a very nice time of it.—
Let me tell you that yon are mistaken,
and that I am tormented half to death,
though I never say anything about it. —
How should you like every morning to
have your nose washed up instead of down?
How should you like to have a pin put
throngh your dress into your skin and
have to bear it all day un'il your clothes
were taken off at night? How should
you like to be held so near the fire that
your eyes were half scorched out of your
head, while the nurse was reading a novel?
llow should you like to have a great fly
light on your nose, and not know how to
take aim at him with your little, fat, use
less fingers? How should you like to be
left alone in the room to take a nap, and
have a great pussy jump into your cradle,
and sit staring at you witli her great green
eyes 111 yon were all in a tremble? How
should you like to reacli out your hand
for the pretty bright candle and find out
that it was away across the room instead
of close by? How should you like to tire
yourself out crawling away across the car
pet to pick up a pretty button or pin and
I have it snatched away as soon as you be
gin to enjoy it? I tell you it is enough to
ruin any baby’s temper. llow should
yon like to have a mammy stay at a party
till you was as hungry as a little enb, and
left t) the mercy of a nurse who trotted
! you up and down till every bone in your
body ached? llow should you like, when
your mammy dressed you up all pretty to
take the fresh, nice air, to spend the after
noon with your nurse in some smoky kitch
en, while site gossipped with one of her
cronies? flow should you like to submit
to have your toes tickled by all the little
children who insisted upon “seeing little
baby’s feet?” How should you iike to
have a dreadful pain under your apron,
and have everybody cull you “a little
cross thing,” when you couldn’t speak to
tell what was the matter with you? llow
should you like to crawl to the top of the
stairs (just to look about a little,) and
pitch heels over head from the top to the
bottom?
Oh, I can tell you it is no joke to be a
baby! such a thinking us we keep up; and
if we try to find out anything we are sure
to get our brains knocked out in the at
tempt. It is very trying to a sensible ba
by who is in a hurry to know everything
and can’t wait to grow up. —Fanny Fern.
B@kThe most elegant “turn out” in
Washinton, is said to be that of Gen. Cass.
The color of the carriage is a dark violet,
the panels being so smoothly finished and
highly polished, as to present almost the
surface of a mirror. The linings are of
rich blue and gold silk reps, with silk la
cings to correspond. The carriage is hung
very low, and posseses all the requisites of
in elegant vehicle for luxurious ease,
wit I', out any attempt at gaudy display.—
On the centre of the panel of each door is
inscribed the letter C., enclosed in a very
•mail and neat wreath. Speaking tubes,
card racks, etc. from a part of the append
age of the coach.
Mild W eathkr. —“This is grand wea
ther, mem, for poor people,” said Mr.
Tigh, the rich neighbor of Mrs. Partington,
on one of the past warm days, and indul
ged in a half chuckle about it as he rubbed
liis hands together. It is a remark that
almost every body would make, and meat,
it, too, at a time when coal by the ra
pacity of man, was eight or nine dollars
a ton, and cold weather, by the blessing
of Heaven, that tempers the wind to the
shorn lambs and ragged children, was
withheld, but not Mrs Partington.—
“Yes,” said she, gently laying her hand at
the same time on the sleeve of Mr. TigTs
coat, and looking him in the face. “Yes,
and don’t folks use this good weather too
much for an excuse for not helping the *
indignant widows and orphanless children?
Depend upon it cold weather is the best
for the poor, for then the rich - feel the
cold and think more of ’em, and feel more
disposed to give ’em consolation and coal.
Cold weather comes down from Heaven
on purpose to make men feel their duty,
and it touches the heart, as the frost
touches the milk pitcher and breaks it, and
he milk of human kindness runs out, and
the poor are made better for it. Cold
weather is a blessing to the poor, depend
upon it.” She stopped here, and Mr.
Tigh cast his eyes oown and struck his
cane several times against a brick at his
feet, then bidding the old lady good morn
ing he moved away. There was a large
‘Or. to Sundries,” oil his book that night,
which the book keeper will find it dificult
to explain; but lleaveu knows all about
it, and the secret gift, in charity, and the
prayer of the poor recipient invoking
blessings on the unknown benefactor, were
great records that night in the angel’s
book.
A Si’irit Perplexed. — Medium—“ All
is now ready—what question do you wish
to put?”—Widow—ma’am, I must ex
plain that I gave to my dear departed one
(he was many years younger than myself)
J 3200 to pay off a claim; and now he’s
ijoiie, they’ve had the audacity to apply
•gain for the money! Pray, therefore,
isk my dear Augutstus, what did he do
with the recip’ - Puiith ?
Good Doctrine. Always make it a
I ui.icipleto extern! the hand of friendship
ti> every man who discharges faithful'y
iis duty and maintains good order, who
nan fests a deep interest in the welfare
>f general society—whose dep irtment is
upright,and whoso mini is initlligen'.—
without stopping to ascertain whether he
swings a hammer or draws a thread.
Little Kindness. —-Small acts of kind
ness how pleasant and desirable do they
make life! Every object is made light by
them, and every tear of sorrow is brushed
away. When the heart is sad, and de
spondency sits at the entrance of the soul,
a trifling kindness drives despair away,
and makes the path cheerful and pleasant.
The late Rev. Sidney Smith observed
that a railway whistle seems to him to be
something like the scream an attorn'y
would give when first the devil caught
hold of him
No. 2.