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OFFICE OF! Tin: TIMES, ON FA VETTEVII.X.E STREET. NF.AHLY OPPOSITE THE CITV HALL, THE TIMES.' r -,.,''., i EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. , , TERMS. , ADVERTISEMENTS, Not exceeding sktee'n lines, will be pub lished one time for one dollar,' and ttventv five cents for each subsequent insertion. Court orders and Judicial advertisements will be charged ti;3 per cent, higher. A rea sonable deduction will be made to those who advertise by the year. Letters, to the; Editor must be po?t paid. Money for the Oilice may be sent by in 0 Two Dollars per annum in advance. ' TWO UOliars aiiu rmj vcmo 1 within six months.' : , , , " Three Dollars if . payment is delayed to the end of the subscription year. - -. jr To Clubs, we will send Six Copies for Ten Dollars, and Twelve Copies for Eighteen Dollars, when the money accom panies the order. A WHIG JOURNAL : DEVOTED TO POLITICS, GENERAL NEWS, AND TO CONSTITUTIONAL REFORM AND THE PEOPLE'S RIGHTS. NO. 24. VOL. IV. RALEIGH, FRIDAY, MAY 9, 1851.; hv''-: ' mail, at our risk, 111 payment for subscrip tions, advertisements, jobs, &c. 1 Kj MES rp-BT i Mi P O E T R Y. CONt-OLATION. BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. When the streamlet is dried up. Then fly to the fountain ! When the valley is floudfd, Then heste to the mountain ! When the arm th u hast lent on, Is laid in the dust, On the arm of thy God '. Lean, w th faith's cheerful trust. Earth's lourds ! oh how tempting Th. 6 rve- sod their frait !. Hem- v ' - . t'i it s'-vfe' h ,dow ! Bn ; w m"s t the r.-t ! YV ,-! t'.v .-.;:. th-.t o i .'i.H-r- d: Is nulii rtd i way, Bo the shalow of Jesus Tliy s'telter and stay! How oft have Hope's visions Deceived the fond-hearted ! Like therainb w they shone : Like the rainbow departed ! When theT lishl once sparkled Is darkened and gone. See ! the rainbow that fades not It arches God's throne. How oft havh earth's pleasures, For which our hearts p.uned, Lik'.v the bright poison berry, Proved deadly, when granted ! Wheti the soul has been sickened With earth's poisoned joy ; Look up for i ure pleasures Their fountain's on high ! .'As the love, when of old From the ark it went forth, .Some green spot to rest on, To seek tbrong't the earth, When it found that the delude So deep and so dark, Left' no green spot uncovered, li.'tur.ie-l 1 -he r'.i : Sol '.v!-- '.; C : ::"'! ; u- - i --.f . And no jjrei u sp.l of tiujuess No I ope-branh .s found : Then Cee to tlie Saviour The true ark of rest ! Oil ! there's no place of shelter Like his pittying breast ! When there, thou art sheltered,. Though storms wrap the skies, And higher aud higher The deep floods jtrise j. Above the ark waters . The ark's lifted high, And bears its blessed iumutes, To God"s niouut the sky ! By the scorn and scoffing. For thy ske He loie By the a'.iarp crown of thorns, For thy sake He wore By the sweat in the yiirdeu The death o:i th-' tree To II m, w:io redeemed thee Thou wearied one, llee. From Him, thine own Saviour, Whatever may betide thee, No distance can sever, $o so.row divide thee? Earth's friei.ds m- y forsake But Jie'll foisake neve.; Ea i til's loved ot.es musi dit But he lives forever. In love He affl cts thee ; In mercy He chastens : To wound He is slow To bind up He hastens, When thy sins call for chasteuiDgs I will Cinlort iuipait Though ajrowu's on His brow, Yet, theru's love in His hert I Each dear earthly cistern By His hand may be broken ! ; But the stroke, though severe Of His love is a token, Ie breaks them, that we, By their loss, may be I-d To driuk of true pleasures, From joy's .ouutaiu head. To Him who so loved thee, Let grief draw thee nearer : Each dear precious promise Let sorrow make dearer Then welcome the trial, By which there is given, To thy soul more of God ! To thy heart more of heaven ! SLLECTLD TALI;. From Arthur's Home G.tzette. THE TEA ROSE. BY MRS. H. E. BEECHER. Part I. -There it stood in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand, in the window of the drawirig-rooni. The rich satin curtains with their cost ly fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it glittered ev ery rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer to luxury, and yet that simple krose was the fairest of them all. So pure it looked its white leaves just touched with that delicious creamy : tint, peculiar to its kind, its cup so full, so perfect, its head bending as if it were sinking and melting away in its own richness oh, ween diq man ever, mate anything like the living perfect flower ! t . . , But -the sunlight that ' streamed through ihe window revealed .something fairer than the rose. Reclined cn an ottoman , nn a deep recess, and intently engaged with a book lay what seemed the' living counter part of that so lovely flower. The cheek -' ' . -" -"- . the face so full of high thought, the fair forehead, the long downcast lashes, and the expression of the beautiful mouth so sorrowful, yet so sub dued and sweet it seemed like the pic lure of a drenm. "Florence ! Florence !" echoed a merry and musical voice, in a sweet im patient tone. Turn your head, reader, and you will see a dark and sparkling mai den, the very model of some little wilful elf, born of mischief and motion, with a danc ing eye, , a foot that scarcely seemed to touch the carpet, and a smile so multiplied by dimples, that ii seemed like a thousand s.niles at once. "Come Florence, I say," said the little fi-ry, 'put down that wise, good, excellent volume, and talk with a .poor little mortal come, destend from your cloud," my dear." . The fair apparition thus adjured, obey ed, and, looking up, revealed just the eyes you expected to see beneath such lids ; eyes deep, pathetic and rich, as a strain of sad music. "I say, cousin," said the 'darke ladye,' "I've been thinking what you are to : do with your pet rose when you go to New York as to our great c nsiernation j'ou are going to do you know it would be a sad pity io leave it witn such u scatter brain as I am. 1 do love flowers that's a fact ; that is, I like a regular boquet, cut off and tied up to carry to a party ; but as to all this tending fussinjr that is necessary to keep them growing1, I've no gifts in that line.." v..-;. ". :'' ; v. ' " "Make yourself quite easy as to that Kate," said Florence, with a smile, "I've no intention of calling upon your tal ents ; I have an asvlum for my favor ite." ,'."; "Oh, then you know just Avhat I was going to say ; Mrs. Marshall, I presume has been speaking to you ; she was here yesterday, and I was very pathetic upon the subject, telling her the loss your favor ite woul. I sustain, and so forth, and she said how delighted she should be to have, it in her green house, it is in such a fine state now, so full of Duds. I told her I knew you would like it, of ell things, to give it to her ; you were always so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know." . "Nay, Kate, I 'm sorry, but I have oth erwise engaged it." "Who can it be to ? You have so few iniimates here." "Oh, only one of my odd fancies." "But do tell me, Florence." "Well cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give sewing." "What little Mary Stephens ? How ab surd ! This is just of a piece, Florence, wi;h your o:her motherly, old-maidish ways dressing dolls for poor children, making caps, and knitting socks for ail the dirty little babies in the region rountl about. I do believe that you have made more calls in those two vile, ill smelling alleys back of our house, than ever you have in Chesnut street, though ye n know every body has been half dying to see you ; and now, to crown a'l, you must give this choice little bijou to a semptress girl, when one of your most intimate friends, in your own class, would value it so highly. What in the world can people in their circun stances want wilh flowers ?" "Just the same that I do," replied Florence, calmly. "Have you ever no ticed that the little girl never. conies here without looking wistfully at the opening buds ? and don't. 3 011 remember the morn ing when she asked me so prettily if I would let her mother come and see it, she was so fond of flowers?" "Hut Fioience, only think of this rare flower standing on a table w ith ham, eggs, cheese and flour, and stifled in the close little room where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to wash, iron, cook, and nobody knows what besides-" " Well Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room, and wash, iron,, and cook as you say if I had to spend every moment of my time in hard toil, widi no prospect from my window but a brick sidewalk, or a dirty lane, such a flower as this would be untold happiness to me." "Pshaw, Florence all sentiment ; poor people have no time to be sentimental : besides, I don't think it will grow with them it is a green-house flower, and used to delicate living." "Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires -whether its owner be rich or poor ; and Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not, has sunsliine of as good a quality as that that streams through our window.'. The beautiful things that God makes are the gift of all alike. You will 6ee that my lit tle rose will be as well and merry in Mrs. Stephens's room as in ours." . "Well, after all, how odd ! When one gives to poor people one wants to give them something use'ul a bushel of pota toes or aham for example." - "Why certainlv, potatoes and ham must be had : but, havin? ministered to the first and most craving wants, why not add any little' pleasures or gratifications that we may have it in our power to give. 1 I know there are many of the poor who have fine feeling and a keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out and dies because they are too hard pressed to procure it' onegratii ca tion'.. Poor , Mrs. Stephens, forexamt e : 1 know she wonld enjoy birds, ,and li. w era, and. music, as much us I do.- i have seen her eye kindle as she has io. fe ed on these things in our drawing-rboni; aud yet not one beautiful ; thing can she command, j. , Fom necessity, her room, her clothing, all dial she has must be coarse and plain. You should have seen the utmost rapture that she and Mary felt w hen 1 of fered them my rose." 'Dear me, all this may be true, but I never thought of it before. I never thought t hat these hard-working people had any idea of taste!" : ' "Then why do you see so often the ger anium or rose carefully nursed in an old cracked teapot in the poorest room, or the morning glories planted in a box, and made to twine around the window. Do not all these show how every human heart yearns after the beautiful? You remember how Mary our washerwoman sat up a whole night after a hard day's work, that she might make her baby a pretty little dress to be baptized in." "Yes, I remember, and how I laughed at you for making such a tasty little cap .for it." , " Well,. Katy, I think that the look of perfect delight and satisfaction with which the poor girl regarded her baby in its new dress and cap, was something quite worth creating ; I do not believe she could not have thanked me more, if 1 had sent her a barrel of flour." " Well, I sever before thought of giving to the poor anything but what they really needed, and I have always been willing to do that when I could without going far out of my way." "Well, cousin, if our -Heavenly Father gave to us as we often give, we should have only- coarse shapeless piles of proTision, lying about the world, instead of al.l the beautiful variety of trees, fruits and flowers which now delight us." "Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right, but pray have .'mercy on my poor head ; it is too small to hold so many new ideas at once ; even goon your own way :" and the little lady began practising a waltz ing step before the glass with great satis faction. PahtII. It was a very small room, and lighted by only one wmdow. There was no car pet on the floor ; there was a clean but coarsely covered bed in one corner ; a cup board with a few plates and dishes in the other ; a chest of drawers ; and before the winuow stood a small ciierry stand, quite new, and indeed the room that seemed so. ing woman of about only article in the A pale,sickly-look- forty, was leaning back in her rocking chair, her eyes closed, and her lips compressed as if in pain. She rocked backward and forward a few mo ments, pressed her hand hard upon her eyes, and than languidly resumed the fine stitchingon which she had been busy since morning. The door opened, and a slender ittile girl of about twelve years of age en tered, her large blue eyes dilated, and ab solutely radiant with delight, as she held up the small vase with the rose tree m it. "Oh, see ! mother, see I there's one in full bhom , and two more half out, beauti ful buds!" The poor woman's face brightened, as she looked first on the rose, and then on her sickly girl, on whose face she had not seen so bright a color for months. "God bless her !" said she, involuntarily. "Miss Florence I I know you would feel so, motner ; don t it make your neaoacne better to see this flower ? Now you -won't look so wishful at the gardeners' stands in the market, will you We have a rose handsomer than any of theirs. Why it seems to me, that it is worth as much to us as our whole litde garden used to be. See how many more bud3 there are on it, just count, aud only smell the flower ! W here shall .we put it ' and Mary skip ped ahout the room, placing her treasure first in one position, and then in another, and walking off to see the effect , till her mother gently reminded her that the rose tree could not preserve its beauty without sunlight. "Oh yes, truly !" said Mary ; "well then, it must stand here on this new stand. How glad I am that we have such a hand some new stand for it, it will look so much better," And Mrs. Stephens laid down her work and folded a piece of newspaper on which the treasure was duly deposited. "There," said Mary, watching the ar rangements eagerly, "that will do ; no, though it does not show both the buds turn it farther round a little more there, it's right ; and Maiy walked round the room to view the rose in various positions, tfter which she insisted that her mother should go round with her to the outside to see how it looked there "How kind it was in Miss Florence to think of giving this to us;" said Mary ; "though she has done so much for us, and giving us so many things, yet this ' present seems the best of all, because it seemed as if she thought of us, and knew just how we felt, and so few do that." ' . "Yes, indeed," said. Mrs. Stephens signing- ."'' :'"' t ' : -" : -:: - v- What a brilliant afternoon that small gift made in that little room. How much faster Mary's tongue and fingers flew the live long day, and Mrs. Stephens, in the hap piness of her child, almost forgot that she had a headache, and thought as she sip ped her evening cup of lea, that she felt stronger than she had done for some time. K , That rose ; its sweet influence died -not with the first day v . Through . all the Jong cold winter that followed, the. watching, tending, and cherishing of that flower, a wakened a thousand plelant trains of thought that beguiled the sameness and weariness of their life. - Every day the fair growing thing put forth some fresh beauty ; a bud a leaf or a new shoot constantly excit''? i :- x8sessor9. As it stood in the window, the passer by would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted by its beauty, and then how proud and happy was Mary, nor did even the serious and care-worn widow, notice with indiner ence when she saw the eye of a chance vis itor rest admiringly on their favorite. But little did Florence know when she gave that gift, that there was an invisible thread that reached far and brightly into the web of her destuiy. , , .- , One cold afternoon in the. early spring, a tall, graceful young rmu called at the lowij room to. receive irvai& payfor some linen which the widow hadi been making up. He was a way-farer and stranger in the place, recommended through the char ity of some of Mrs. Stephens's patrons. His eye, as he was going out, rested ndmi ringly upon the ipse ; he stopped and look ed earnestly at it. "It'was giveu to us," said the little Mary , quickly,- "by a young lady as sweet and beautiful as that is." "Ah !" said the stranger, turning and fixing upon her a pair of very bright eyes, pleased and struck with the simplicity of the communication, "and how 'came, she to give it to j'ou, my little girl? "Oh, because we are poor, and mother is sick, and we never can have anything pretty. We used to have aarden once, and we loved flowers so much, and Miss Florence found all this out, and so she give us this. "Florence !" echoed the stranger. " Yes, Miss Florence l'Estrange. a beau tiful young lady, they say she was from foreign parts, though she speeks English just like any other lady, only sweeter." "Is she here now f 13 she m this city : said the gentleman eagerly. "No, she left some months ago, said the widow : but noticing the sudeen shade of disappointment on his face, she added, "but you can find all abou her y inquir ing at her aunt, Mrs. Carlisle's, No. 10 street As the result of this, Florence received from the office in the next mail, a letter, in a hand-writing that made her tremble. During the many early years of her life spent in France, she had well learned that writing; had loved as a woman like her loves, only one : but there had been obsta cles of parents and friends, separation, and long suspense, till at length, for many bit ter years, she had believed that the relent less sea had closed for ever over that hand and heart ; and it was this belief that had touched, with such sweet calm sorrow, every line in her lovely face. But this letiertold her that he was living, that he had traced her, even as a hidden streamlet may be traced, by the freshness, the grenn- ness of heart, which her deeds of kindness had left wherever she had passed. And thus much said, do our fair readers need any help in finishing tliis story for themselves ? Of course not. MISCELLANEOUS. A MINE UNDER THE SEA. The foUowinff description of a visit to Botallack Copper Mine, in England,!-is fxm a w-pik recently published, entitled Rambles beyond Kailroads. In com plete mining equipment, with candles stuck by lamps of clay to their felt hats, the travellers nave painfully descended bv perpendicular ladders and along dripping wet rocK passages, iatnoms aown mio pitchy darkness ; the miner who guides them calls a. halt, and their exact position with reference to the surface of the terra queous globe, is thus described : We are now lour hundred yards out, under the bottam of the sea ! and twenty fathoms, or a hundred and twenty ieet he- low the sea level. Coast trade vessels are sailing over our heads. Two hundred and forty feet beneath us men arc at work, and there are galleries deeper yet, even below that ! The extraoidinary position down the face of the cliff, of the engines and other works on the surface, at Bottal lack, is now explained. The mine is not excavated like other mines under the land, but under the sea ! Having communicated these particulars, the miner next tells us to keep a strict si lence and listen. We obey him , sitting speechless and motionless. If the reader could only have beheld us now, dressed in our copper colored garments, huddled close together in a mere cleft of subterra nean tock, with a flame burning on bur heads and darkness enveloping our limbs he must certtiinly have imagined, with out any violent stretch of fancy, that he was looking down upon ai conclave of gnomes. . After listening for a few moments, a dis tant, unearthly noise becomes faintly au dible a long, low, mysterious moaning, that never changes that is felt on the ear as well as heard by it- a sound that might proceed from some incalculable distance from some far invisible height a sound unlike anything that . is heard on the upper ground, in the free air of Heav en a sound so sublimely mournful and still, so ehostly and impressive, when list ened f.o in the subterranean recesses of the earth, that we continue instinctively to hold our peace, as if enchained by it, and think not of communicating to each other the strange feeling and astonishment which it has inspired, in us both from the first. At last the. miner speaks again, and tells us that what we hear is the sound of the surf lashjng therocks a hundred and twen ty feet above us, and of L'io waves that are breaking on the beach beyond, ,4 The tide m "".at th? flow, and the sea is jn no ex- traordinary state of agitation ; so the sound fslowand distant just atthisperiod. But, when storms are at their height, when the ocean hurls mountain after mountain of water on the cliffs, then the noise is terrific ; the roaring heard down her in the mine is so inexpressibly fierce and awful, that the boldest men at work are afraid 10 con tinue their labor all asrend to the surface to breathe the upper air and stand on the firm earth ; dreading, though no catastro phe has ever happened yet, that the sea j will break in on. them if they remp.'in.;n 'he I cavern below. Hearing this, we get up to look nt the rock above us. We are able to stand up right in the position we now occupy ; and flaring our candles hither and thither in the darkness, can see the bright, pure copper streaking the gallery direction. Lumps of ooze, of the most lustrous green color, traversed by a natural network of thin red veins of iron, appear here and there in large, irregular patches, over which water is dripping slowly and incessan'.iy in cer tain places. This is the salt water perco lating ihrough.invisible crannies' in the rock. On stormy days it spirts om furious!- hi thin, continuous streams. Just over our heads we observe a wooden plug of the thickness of a man's leg ; there is a hole here, and the plug is all that we have to keep out the sea Immense wealih 01 metal is contained in the roof of thisgallei v, throughout its whole length : but it remains, and always. will remain',-untouched ; the miners dare not take it, for it js part, and a great part of the rock which forms their only protec tion against the sea , and -.which has been so far worked away here, that its thickness is limited to an average of three feet only between the water and the gallery in which we now stand. No one knows whatniight be the consequence of another day 's labor' with the pick-axe on any part of it. ' ' BRING YOUR HEART INTO YOUR FAMILY CIRCLE. We sometimes meet with men who seem to think that 'any indulgence in an affectionate feeling is a weakness. They will return from a journey, -and greet their families with a disiant tliriity , ;.::d r.iove among their clniur. n with the cold and lofty splendor of an iceberg', sunouncled by its broken fragments. There ;s httrcHy a-more, unnatural sight on earth, than one of those families without a heart. A fa ther had better extinguish a boy's eyes than take away his heart. ' 1 Who that .has experienced the joys . f friendship, and values sympathy and a flection, would not rather lose all that is beautiful in nature's, scenery, than be robbed of the hidden treas ure of his heart ! Cherish, then, your heart's best affections. Indulge in the warm and gushing emotions' of filial, par ental, and fraternal love. Think it not it weakness. God is love. 1 Jove God, eve rybody, and everything that is lovely. Teach your children to love ; to love the rose, the robin : to love their parents ; to love their God. Let it be the '-studied ob- ject of their domestic culture to give them warm. hearts, ardent affections. Hind your whole family together by these stong cords. You cannot make them too strong. Re ligion is love ; lpve to God, love to man. MINDING ONE'S OWN BUSINESS. Some years ago. somebody .offered a re ward for an individual who always minded his own business, : Whether the reward was ever claimed or not is a matter of little consequence at present the olfer itself was a very good hit at a very general propensi ty on the part of a large portion of mankind to meddle with that which does not concern them, or as is generally expressed mind ing every body's business bat their own. There is no practice so annoying, nor one which is more insulting, whether toe med dlesomeness is in the form of gratuitous services of any kind in his business from a- ny but his most intimate friends, and rare'y from those. In the next p.ac-.", when we desire advice or assistance of others, he al ways know where to apply to get tiie prop er kind of aid or counsel he may need. Every man is presumed to be the best judge of his own business, and he certainly has the strongest motives for making himself thoroughly acquainted with it. Interest is on one side to prompt his intelligence, and pecuniary undertakings, on the other, to make him circumspect and cautious, and to arouse his judgment. To officiously in terfere w ith his business is therefore an im pudent assumption cf better knowledge, which is seldom w arranted by the facts, and generally prompted by inordinate self con ceit and assurance, -Philadelphia Ledger , Silver Mine in1. Virginia . A valuable silver mine, it is supposed, has been discovered on the farm or Messrs James and Dennis McSherry, of Jefferson county, Va., situated on the east bank of the Shenandoah River, and at. the base of die Blue Ridge mountain. The Spirit of Jefferson says : ' The mine was discovered some month since, and a small specimen obtained and forwarded to the Philadelphia Mint to be assayed. The Superintendent of the mint has returned the same, made into a ten cent piece, and pronounces the ore as exceeding ly rich. The ledge of rocks in which the ore is impregnated, is of immense size, and if the ore yet to be taken tout should prove as rich as that already tested , it will rank as among tlie mostprpductive silver mines of tlie .'country. Every three pounds of rock; it 13 estimated , will yield one dollar in silver. v Arrangements have been made for at once mining, and but a very short time will demonstrate the advantages of the discovery. v INDUSTRY REWARDED. An Intelligent gentlern-Mi of fortune vis ited a country village in Maine, not very far from Bangor, and was. hospitably enter tained and lodge;! by a gentleman having three daughters -two of whom in rich dress es, entertained the distinguished strantrer iii the parlor, while one kept herself in he kitchen, assisting her mother in preparing the food aad settiug the table for tea, and after supper in loing the work till it was fully completed : when she also joined her sisters in the parlor for .the remainder .of the ;f"!mi? li;e-. .next monmig ti same 1 daughter was again early, iu tiio liliLL. k, while the other two were in the parlor. The gentleman, like Erai-klin possessed a. discriminating mind was a 'close' observer of the habits of the young ladies watched an opportunity and whispered somethi in the ear of. the industrious one, and then left for a time : but revisited the same fan 'IV, and in about one year the yuuna lad vol the kitchen was conveyed 'to', Boston, the wife of the ""gentlemanly visiter, where she now presides at an elegant mansion. The gentleman, whose fortune she shares, she won by a judicious deportment and well di rected industry. So much for an industrious young lady. Bangor H7;r. THINK BEFORE YOU SHOOT. Mr. A. kept his hens shut tip. lie w as not goiiiijr to have his garden destroyed by his own or his neighbor's hens. One morn ing he saw a couple digging in his early pea bed, and went with murder in his heart, but the hens fiew. over into his neighbor IPs garde:;. '..whereupon A. called ever to him .Very. angrily that he would shoot the ne.t hon he saw on his side of thiv fence,, if he did not shut them no ' which B. declared he would not do, 'ami if A., was a too! to shoot tiiem, he might do it, for all he "cared," I A. was as "good as his word. .11 J day after j day B. w;as saluted w ith the sine!! of gun j powder, snd a message thrown over the j fence1.- with everv fat pullet. "There's -an .tier chicken for your dinner ;'' until length, not finding the usual supnlv, at B. called over one morning to 1 neighbor 1 A. to know the reason. This awakened in quiry, when.it was discovered that A. had been shooting his own hens as they occa sionai'y escapl through a hole in the coop, rd i" J:-is hn rer :tt his neighbor1 for '.the tresjns , :':.;,..!. :d ii:t;. 1 sundry goott dinners. No doubt he w as a little mad at lirst, and thought 'any cunning trick after th::t better than shooting his neighbor's hens. 117. : Commercial.- ' ' SELF-ENERGY Self-energy is the true life of a. man.- To think by other ..men's is no true living; to believe by-other men's belief, is no true living iltiih. The mind nius;, by its own iudc'pen'dcht exertions, seek, and, so far as its native powers will enable it, arrive at the modes and. causes of the trsi'Ji of those proposiiions it receives us truthsor subsran iially, it will think and believe nothing. Neisher will the propositions exist for it ; nor for ihetn. They will he noneatities, and it will onlv dream of understanding ithem. 'Exchange I'ajier The Useful more enduring than the BlML'Tl'-'l'!.. The tomb cf Moses is unknown ; but the traveller slakes his thirst at ihe well 01 Jacob. The gorgeous-palace of .the wisest and wealthiest of nionarc's, with the cedar and gold, and ivory, even the great temple of Jerusalem .hallowed by the visibleglory of the Deity himself, are gone ; but Solomon's reservoirs arc as pefect as ever. Of the ancient architecture of the Holy City, not one stone is left upon anoiher ; but the pool. of B'ethseda commands the pilgrim's reverence at the present day. The col umns of Persepolis are 'mouldering into dust ; but. its cisterns and aqueducts remain to challenge our admiration. The gulden house of Nero 's a mass of rums ; but the Aqua Cluadia still pours into Rome its liquid stream. The Temple of Tadnior, in the wilderness, has fallen ; but its foun tain sparkle's us freshly in his rays a.j when thousands "of worshippers thronged its lofty colonnades. It may be that London will share the fate of Babylon, -and nothing be left to mark its site save mounds of crumbling- brick-work.- ' ; The Thames will continue to flow as it. docs now ; and if any work of art should still rise Over the deep ocean 01 lime, we may well believe that it. will be neither. -a palace or a temple, nut some vast acque duct or resivoir ; and if any name should still flash thronh the' midst of antiquity, it will probably be that of the man who in his day sought the happiness of his fellow-men raiher than their glorv, and linked his memory to some great Work of national utility and benevolence. This is the true glory -which outlives all others, and shines with undying lustre from gen eration to generation, imparting to works something of its own immortality, and in some degree rescuing them from the ruin which'-overtakes the ordinary monuments ot historical tradition of mere magnificence, Edinburgh Itccicw. RarnujI Outdoxk. -The Madison Cour ier relates the following piece of financiering. McElevey, the taylor w ho bought the prize ticket to jenny Lind's first concert in Cin cinnati, is one ot the few men m the world who are as sharp as Barnum. The w ay he, worked things w as this j for some days be fore the concert he went around among his friends, betting ten dollars with this one, twenty dollars with that one, - and sO 'on, until he had a thousand dollars bet that he would bay the prize ticket. The ticket was knocked down to him at $575, thus leaving him $425 in pock ci. From tho Nhv Ywl; Ex;!v.-;.s. The readers of the Express were not a little amused upon rending t!ie report of tli a indisfiiation tittered by our. Irih Lrt .-litre n over the accusation msds by Sir Hex rv BcLWEr.,:fhat the (,'e'ts once went waii- ! ollt pantaloons: being tenii-!.a;borous, senii- clad, tec. Sir iJ e.nry lieanng oJ lias ris ing indignation ot'liis countrymen, wrote a note to Mr.IJEt.L,- the President, of the friendly .Sn of St. PAtuick, apologising; and I3ell wrote a net's to the Chnirrnr.n of the Shakspeare-meeting, setting forth that Sir KtXT.Y himself is: descended from n Welsh Celt, and his wife is the daughter of an j Irish in aii. .Nevertheless, the meeting gave Sir Henry's letter three rfroai.s, and : it w as read amid the cries tnat "he wants tc i get o!F through his ' wifu being an Iriahvvo i man." Mr. Michael Poheny. who caiin ! over here soon niter the, last Irish !burt-up. and who has not been llieie mor;; than a , jear or two aia put n 1:1.0 sir ueury iuiwer in the most 'approved j Dublin sfyle. Ji had a 'right.-. They arej coininoh country men, a?id this is a frio tonutry t abust- any body in. But what' Mr. Dohcuy should na ve vvaiieti lor iiiiie aiii what lie. did not wait for, he to do, and vet Dohnov) introduced a memorial, pr ldent oftiie United StatV..- hig for the Pres to ask that the i1 British Minister be recalled, or in case of j his not being recalled, tint he gie him his j walking ticket. Xovv Mike being ait A ' nu rican undoubted anil Jo tho riancr born, 'might petition Mr. Fillmore with a good j grace lor any sort of decently saucy thing ; but we have some douhtt whether the Presi , dent or his Secteta.-y of jStaie will pay as much attention now to the memorial as if it had been put t'orwaid by; Mike, or his a!ju- taut at tlie meeting. Mr. KJmi). A DUELLING ANECDOTE. j Two Spanish officer recently met to (-fight a duel outside the gates atUilboa, ! after the seconds had failed to reconcile .tin I belligerents. 'We. wish' to litrht to light ; to death,' they replied Jo tlie reprcsenta- 1 I ii 1! is-o? I heir coori;it lionsi I f mop lent I a jKior fellow looking like the rhosf of j Romeo's apothecary, approached the 'sec j ontls, and hi a kimetrahie; voice. said, ;(ien I tlemen, I am a poor artisan, with a large : familv, and if you wotj'd ' 4 Mv good man. ! cion t t' j :c Ci- ficers, 'tiont you see my ;JV to split each other? We end iire gr.lii r.ct in a I charitable humcr. ! for,' sitid the man : 'It is not alms I osk 'I 'am- a poor cnipen- 1 ter, th eight .children, and ;uy wife is sick ; and having heard that those gentle man were about to kid each oilier; I ti of asking you to let. 1110 make the coll sir. At these words the individuals about to commence the combat buret into a loud lit of laughter, and simultaneously throwing down their swords, shook hands with each oilier, and walked away, j Sorihrm Elin or . "Good Joke. ox a Widower. A correspondent at 'Holly' Springs, Mis sissippi, lellsthe following and vouche's for its truth.. It is the best joke we have heard of lately. It appears that a widower in that town, of a somewbat'gallant disposi tion, had been accustomed to visit the resi dence of the widow M -, whether to see the amiable widow herself, or her lovely daughters, our informant did not know. . One evening he found the family party hard at. work on some garments of cloth. The girls were sewing, and tlie widow w as nressintr the seams. The widower "hung j up his hat," as usual, and touk bis seat 1 ! 1 1 10 li rr int n t i 1 1:11 t te wit i.'iwi i;td done. I. With the presbiiig iron (vr.lgo, or tailor s 1 t ! iroose.'i . She set it du'.vn kui the hcarih. land called to her negr.o man in a loud voice " Jake ! Jnke ! coue.'and take out I liis goose " . J The widower started up with astonish ment, not knowing w hat to make of this abrupt order. I "Jake! do you hear r.ie?" again ex claimed the widow. ! " ' "I befg our pardon, jMns. 31.," said the widowef with visible agitation, "but pray don't call Jake if you widi me to leave your housej I will go at once, and without the interference of servants'."' The ladies roared wi'h the laughing, and it took some moments to (explain 10 ihe cliagfined widower his mistake. He litis not been known to visit the widow ,L since that memorable evening. p.is Wit. In a joUy coi .ipany each i-ne was to ask a question ; if it was ansv. tred, he paid a forfeit ; or if he could not autwer it himself, he paid a forfeit. Pat's .question was, "How the little ground squirrel digs his. hole without showing any i dirt about the entrance I" When they all gave it up, Pat said, "Sure do you seS, lie begins at the other end of the ho!e.M One f the rest exclaimed, "but howj does he get there V "An," said Pat, "that's the que, lion :cah j oit answer it yourself 1 7 : . ' Interesting From Hayti. Boston May 1st 10t o'clock,' P. M. The school ner October, from Port an Prince, Avith ad vices to April 13th, arrived hrc to-day.; Itwras currently reported at St. Domingo rttat the Chambers had refused to comply with the demands of the American Com missioner, "of to make peace, L'mperor Sotilouque waf preparing 'to ' march on Cape Ilaytien to punish the 'black "Prince Babo, who ' refused to comply with the imperial maniiates. iume last account. Babo was shut out from Cape Ilaytien. and had but few men with hini r
Raleigh Times [1847-1852] (Raleigh, N.C.)
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May 9, 1851, edition 1
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