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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.