October 6, 1853 (4 pages)

ee VOL. 1 Ths ee THE TELEGRAPH: PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, YB LILLEY & OLIVER, * Yffice on Main st., a few doors above Ada “3 < “eer [like Lizzy Smith, and she is only two years older than me, if she does dress fine ; cause Mr. Pease says she will be just like old drunken Kate, one of these days. Qh, dear, I have bought it and thrown it away, instead of eating it.” ee “But, Sir, may I eat it then if you don’t want it?” : “No, it is not good for you; good bread is ' SeSnow then this truth (enough for man to know), . ~.“* Virtue allone is happiness below.”’ =" The only point where human bliss stands still, _~ And tastes the good, without the fall to ill : . Where only merit constant pay receives, %s blest in what it takes, and what it given : ha ne Joy tinéquallled, if ite end i Then Geet 5 aru Se te ‘Without satiety, though ’er so blessed, ss . ~=s . outsodate again. Go home. earlier, and teil, "And but more relished‘as the more distressed : » broadest ‘mirth unfedling folly wears, ) ess pleasing far than virtue’s very tears : ey 5d, from-each object, from each place acquired, oft “Ror ever exercised, yet never tired ; she is a good mother she won’t whip you.” “ Oh, Sir, she is a good mother sometimes. But I am sure the grocery man at the corner is not a good. man or he would not sell my mother rum, when he knows—for Mr. Pease told him so—that we poor children were starving. Oh, I wish all the men were good men like him, and then my mother would not drink that nasty liquor and beat and starve 4 Never dejected while another’s blest ; And where no wants, no wishes can remain, “See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow ! a “Which who but feels ean taste, but thanks oF know : _ #0 Wet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, , The bad mist miss; the good, untaught, will find ; e: to-no sect, who takes no private road, the noted Five Points of New York. > But looks through nature up to nature’s God 5 _ ‘As we plodded up Broadway, looking in > Pursues that chain which links the immense desgm@, . ) . there upon the palatial splendors of , Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine; i metropolitan “ saloons,’’—we think that is . Sees that no being any bliss can know, ’ . the word for fashionable upper class grog“ . Buttouches some above, and some below ; shops—we almost involuntarily eried \ (s<Zearns from this unién of the rising whole, ¢orn,”’ as we saw the hot spirit of that grain, . The first, last purpose of the human soul ; : 2 any—and then we should have plenty to eat.” Away she ran down the street toward that ¥ + ‘se And knows where faith, law, morals, all began={) . “old rum”—“ pale brandy” —‘pure port”’— « F[eidsick”—or “Lager-bier’”’—poured down All-end in love of God and love of man. : the hot throats of men—and ah, yes, of woHOT CORN; at midnight upon the cold curbstone crying OR, LIFE IN THE CITY. “hot corn,” to gain a penny for the purchase 2 INTERVIEW WITH Lire Karr. if . “CHAPTER 1.—Tue First ~) it Meg fe inviting to a home in their bosoms, whose cry in after years will be “Give, “give, give,” and still as ansatisfied as the horse-leach’s daughters. Again, as'we passed on up that street, still a as iS From the New York Daily Tribune of Aur 5. —~ “Hor Corn! Here’s your nice HogCorn, & Mott hot, “smoking hot, just the & eo 8 Popes agile Dot set busy and thronged at midnight, as a country = .\plaintive voice under our window, which told . Village at midday intermission of church-ser_. "sof one of the ways:of the poor to eke cut . Vice, everand anon from some side-street, Ps ‘the means of subsistence in this overburden. Came up the ery of “hot corn—hot corn! i 4 ed, = fed and worse-todged home of misery . and ever/as we heard it, and ever as we shall ¥ }<~of 80 many without ‘neans, who are con-. throughall years to come, we thought of that bes is this pi Aateh~ pines Ome! ace dee net “bad man” at the corner grocery, and that : a. tothe ‘chance of death from . her’s was the best,the strongest Maine Law some sudden outbr ing epidemic like that . preamient Which hadever fallen upon our lisnow desolating the same kind of streets in N. . *ening ear. he ‘ ‘Orleans and swallowing up its thonsands of. ) Again, a8 we tufned the corner of Spring victims from the same class of poverty-strick. 8*-, the glare and splendor of a thousand gas en, uncomfortably-previded-for human beings, lights, and the glittering cut glass at that, who know not how, or have not the power to \for the first time lighted-up bar room of the flee to the healthy ‘hilis and green ficldsof the ‘Prescott House, so lauded by the Press for its euntry. Here they live—barely live—in magnificence, dashed our eyes and almost 2les almost as hot as the hot’cotn, the ery blinded our senses toa degree of imagination _ »f which rung in our ears from dark until that first class Hotels must have such Five 3 midnight. beet errecniomae en te ce as this ' “Ho ! , glittering room, shamelessly inviting, open * corn,” Neos Us stop tcmp ed by fo the street ; when that watch-word ery, like ¢ which seemed to have been 4rou: j the pibroch’s startling peal, came up from the q Sennd of our step as we were about entering) 2¢4t Vicinity, wailing like a lost spirit on the *-* the Park, while the City Hall clodk told the} Midnight air—“Hot corn, hot corn—hete’s “hear when ir mid YOUF nice hot corn—“ smoking hot—hot—hot +. COTD. “Yes, yes! I hear you cry—it is a watchwotd—a glorious watch-word, that bids us do or die—until the smoking, hot, fiefy-furnace-like gates of hell, like this one now yawning before us shall cease to be licensed by a Christian people, to send delicate little girls at midnight through the streets, trying “ Hot corn,” to support a drunken mother, whose first glass was taken ina “fashionable saloon,” r first-class liquor selling hotel. “Hot cern,” then, be the watch-wotd of ali who would rather see the grain fed to the drunkard’s wife and children than into the insatiable hot maw of the whisky still. Let your resolutions grow hot and stron every time you hear this midnight cry, tha you will devote, if nothing more— ‘Three grains of corn, mother, Only three grains of corn,” toward the salvation of the thousand equally pitiable objects as the little girl, whose wailing cry has been the inciting cause of this present dish of “ Hot Corn—smoking hot!” little git] and “her drunken mother, and the % a 4 / \» which is not often done, because one of the . Often, if not always is out of its place, gi é ing free ingress: to the court-yard, ot live Stajbie grounds of the City Hall, which, j ca ¢ aw of bi growth of a few pics i justy wih trees and doubtful atches, we call “ the Pak 2% * Looking over the post we discovered the : ‘owner of the hot corn cry, in the person of van emaciated Tittle girl about twelve earg f old, whose dirty frock was neatly the odes of ; -'the iron, and whose fate, hands and feet, naturally white and delicate, were grim, med. with dirt until nearly of fhe same color, _ There were. two white streaks running dowh from the soft blue eyes, that told of the ho} _ scalding tears that were coursing their way _ oyer that naturally beautiful face. _.“ Some corn, Sir,” lisped the little suffy. ee ee CHAPTER—II. ze THE HOME OF LITTLE KATY. Z as si gto siqppet 1 to look Pri Mr. row the New York Daily Tribune, of Aug. 13. “3 5 alias Whe ut a week aga we published a little , pyedaress her in rou tones of command, suph . story under this title, detailing some of the cae we some corn, you little wolf’s . sufferings which crime and misery bring upon ‘ jwhelp,” or a name still more opprobious both . the poor of the City, and hinted at the cause. to herself and mother. Seeing we had no of contempt for her, she said, piteously, »9) please buy some corn, sir.” “No my dear, we do not wish any? itlis not very healthy in such warm weather.as this, and especially so late at night. { “Oh dear, then, what shall I do?” va“ Why, go home. It is past midnight, atd : such little girls as you ought not to be in the . wee of a — City at a time of or san £. “1 can’t go home~and irea jan ., sleepy. Oh deg.” sa aerial annot gohome. Why not?” , OLS Oh Sir, my mother will whin me if I go home without selling all my}corn. Oh, sir. — ear and then Jyshall have only adtndaiew ea’ dlaent resni she Ae let little Sis That story is not yet finished. The next night after the interview with that neglected, ill used little girl, the same plaintive cry of Hot corn, hot ‘corn, here is your nice hot corn,” came up through our open window, on the midnight air, while the rain came dripping down from the overcharged clouds in Just sufficient quantity to wet the thin shingle garment of the owner of that sweet young voice, without giving her an acceptable excuse for leaving her post before her hard task was completed. At length the voice grew faint, and then ceased and then we knew that exhausted nature slept—that a tender house plant was exposed to the chilling influence of a night rain—that an innocent little girl had he ecurb-stone for a bed and an iron ‘post for Z ve not had anythin illow—that by and by she would awaken, to eat:since morning, onfly one apie the ike 43 invigorated with refreshing slumber, but , , por me, and one part o}f one he threw away. foisoned with the sleep-inhaled miagma of the : — have stole a nip at the grocery filth-reeking gutter at her feet, which may be < mah trap to Be mt et something in the . breathed with impunity awake. but like the . aeatos he rig om ld t dare Hot. I did use . malaria of our Southern coast, is death to the i. ateslzemast dani fase says it is naughty to . Sleeper. Not soothed by a dreamy conscious7 Cops * want to be nau ty, indeed . ness of hearing a mother’s voice, I don’t ; And I-don’t want to be a bad soft lullaby of girl, " oe eee nence. go ee is what you shall do,” For sie amonthay nro? -"-11"7"""S09 . homie ; tell your motiiet.you have sola stall, . bility, SEE” bee oer ordepe Ae En &@~ Advertisements at reasonable rates. +. we must not tell lieg:”? ; : da n a ‘No, miy dear, that wont be a lie, becduse your mother you cannot keep awake, and if . us, ‘cause there would be nobody to sell hér . street, up and around the corner ; or out of reeking center of filth, poverty and misery, . ger bier’ “hot . its of this late supper eating peopk. under the various guises of “pure gin’’— / no longer like the music of a stringed instrumen, too, whose daughters may some day sit! of the ten thousand, just as misertble, which of a drink of the fiery dragon they are now. did not haunt us, but its absence, in spite of turning the beings call S VALLEY TELEG GRASS VALLEY, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1853. “Hush my child, lie still and slumber ;?’ ; but starting like a sentinel upon 4 sdvage frontier post, with alarm at having slept; Kat a now . shivering with night air and fear, and finally there goes a man and I did not cry hot corn, . compelled t¢ g0 home trembling like a culprit, to hear the hard words of a mother— yes & mother—but Oh! what a mother— as we dashed the corn in the gutter. “@o/. cursing her for not performing an impossibecause exhausted nature slept—because her child had not made a profit which would have enabled her more freely to indulge in the soul-and-body-destroying vice of drunkenness, to which she had fallen from an estate when “ tity carriage,” was one of the “household words” which used to greet the young ears of that poor littledeath-stricken neglected street Syfferer. It was past midnight when she awoke, and better, and here is a sixpente to buy a loaf, . found herself with adespetate effort just able and here is another to bily some nice cakeS. to reach the bottom . . . for you and Sis. Now, that is your money ;. which led to het home: We shell. got. go up Nie enirere'It to your mother; ami don’t stay . now. «Ina iittle-while, reader 7 ‘see'Vand of the ricketty stairs . where live the Cit} poor. _ Tired—worn with daily toil—for such is the work of an editot who taters for the appetites of his motning readers—we were not present the next night to note the absence of that éry from its accustomed spot; but the next, and next, and still on we listened in vain—that voite was not there. . True the same hot-corn cry, came floating upon the evening breeze across the park, or yorthed its way from some cracked fiddle voice dotvn the some dark alley with a broken Inglish atcent, that sounded almost as muchlike “ laas itdid like the comnodity the immigrant struggling to eke out his precarious existence, wished to sell. Al over this great poverty burdened, and wicked waste extravagant City, at this season, that c goes up, nightly proclaiming one ¢f the habYes, we missed that cry. ‘Hotcorn’ was ment toa weary man, for the trmble string was broken, and, to us, the harmany spoiled. What was that voice to us? It yasbutone may be daily heard where human nisery has its abode. That voice, as some others have, all reasoning, made us feel uneasy. We do not believe in spirit manifestations half as strongly as some of the nin-compoops of this world would have their long-eared listeners think, yet we do believe there isa spirit in man, not yet made manifest, yhich makes us yearn after co-existing spiritsin this sphere and in this life, and that ther) is no need of going beyond it, seeking after strange idols. We shall not stop to inquirewhether it was a spirit of “the first third orgixth sphere,” that prompted us a8 we leftiour desk one evening, to go dowu among the abodes of the poor,with a feeling of certainty that we should see or hear something of the lost volco, for that spiritJed_ us on; perhaps it was the spirit of-curlosity ; no matter, led, and we followed in thé toute we had seen that little one go before—it was one only one—we know no name—had no nimmber, nor knew no one that knew her whom we were going to find. Yes, we knew that go6d missionary, and she had told us of the géod words which hé had spoken, but would he know her trom the hundred just like her? Perhaps. It will cost nothing to inquire. We went down Centre st. with a light heart; we turned into Cross st. with a step buoyed by hope ;, we stood at the corner of Little Wafer st. and looked round inquiringly of the spirit, and mentally said‘ “which way now?” The answer was.a far-off scream of dispair. Westood still with an open ear, for the sound of prayer. followed by a sweet hymn of praise to God, went up from the site of the Old Brewery, in which we joined, thankful that that was no longer the abode of all the worst crimes ever concentrated under one roof. Hatk, a step approaches. Our unseen guide whispered, “ ask him.” It were a curious question to ask a a stranger, in such a strange place, particularly one like him haggard with overmuch care, toil or mental labor. Prematutely old, his days shortened by over work in young years as furrowed face and almost phtensied eye hurtidly indicates, as we seen the flash of the lamp upon his dark visage, as he approaches with that peculiar American step which impels the body forward at railroad speed. Shall we get out of his way before he walks over us? What if he is a crazy man? No; the spirit was night—no false raps here. It is that good missionary. That man Who has done more toreform that den of crime, the Five Points of New-York, than all the Municipal Authorities of this Police-hunting, and Prison-punishing City, where misfortune is deemed a crime, or the unfortunate dtiven to it, by the way they are treated,instead of being reformed, or strength. ‘crying hot ened in their resolution to reform, by hard words rather than Prison bars. “ Sir,’”’ said Mr. Pease, “what brings you here at this time of night, for I know thete is an object; can IT aid you?” . “Perhaps I don’t know—a foolish whim— a little child—one of the miserable, with a drunken mothet.”? : “ Come with the then. There are many such. I am just ging to visit one, who will die before morning—a sweet little girl, born in better days, atid dying now—but you shall see, and then We will talk about the one you would seek to saye,”? We were soon threading 4 narrow alley, whiere bentileae walketh in darkness, and €8, wretched poverty and filthy misery, go hand in hand t A rchdhie . i Behold,” said our frien? “ithe frnits of our City excise. Here is the profit of money spent for license to kill the body and damn the soul.” Proven by the awful curses and loud blows of a drunken husband upon a wife, once an ornament of society, and exemplary member of a Christian Church, that came up out of one te om cellars, which human i by the holy name of home. The fettid odour of thie filthy lane had been [4a . sr Te oe ee made more fetid by the late and almnost scalding hot rains, until it seemed to us that such an air was only fit for a charnel house. With the thermometer at 86, at midnight, how could men live in such a place, below the surface of the earth. Has rum rendered them proof againét the effett of carbonje acid gas? S We groped our way along to the foot of an Outside stairs case, where our conductor paused for a midment, calling our attention to the spot. “Here,” said Mr: Pease, “ the little sufferer we are going to see, fainted a few nights ago, and lay all night exposed to the rain, where she was found and beaten in the morning by her miserable mother, because she had not sold all her corn.” “Great and unknown Cause, hast thou brought us to her door ?’’ —Our friend stared, but did not comprehend the expression: “ Be careful,” said hey‘ the stairs are very old sItvpery." Binge “But hear!”’ said we, without regarding what he was saying. . “Yes; beat her, while she was in a fever of delirium, from which she has-never rallied. — She has never spoken rationally, since she was taken, Her constant prayer seems tobe to see some particular person before she dies.” “Oh, if I could see him once more—there —there—that is himn—no, no, he did not speak 1} Had_ flowers no. other office . \ that way to me—he did not curse and beat: me.” .“‘Such is ber conversation, and that induced her mother to send for me, but I was not the man. ‘Willhe come?’ she says, every time I visited her ; for, thinking to soothe and comfort her, I promised to bring him. We hdd reached the top of the stairs and stood a moment at the open door, where sin . ry . and misery dwelt, where sickness had come, and where death would soon enter. “ Will he come?” A faint voice caine up from a low bed in one corner, seen by the very dim light of a miserable lamp. That voice. We could not enter. Let us wait a moment in the open air, for there is a choking sensation coming over us. “* Come in,’ said our friend. “Will he come!” Two hands were stretched out imploringly toward the Missionary, as the sound of his voice was recognised. “She is much weaker to-night,” said her mother, in quite a lady like manner, for the sense of her drunken wrong to her dying child had kept her sober, ever since she had been sick, “ but she is quite delirious, and all the time talking about some man that spoke kindly to her one night; and gave her moncy . to buy bread.’’ “ Will he come?” “Yes, yes, through the guidance of the good spirit that guides the world, and leads us by unseen paths, through dark plates he! has come.” . i . } . . . . . . We could not be mistaken.— . . { . . . The little emaciated form started up in bed, . and a pair of beautifnl soft blue eyes glanced around the room, peering through the semidarkness, as if in search of something heard but unseen. “ Katy, darling,” said the mother, “what is the matter?” , * Where is he, mother? . He is here I heard him speak.” . upward progress! . a ce eheneaeeagemaret WOMAN AND FLOWERS, The editor of the Louisville eM very readable article: under thishead, from which we cut the closing paragraga. “Tt is full of the true poetry cf natura! and refined sentiments: can ca “ Blessings on the heads of these wha send flowery presents to those whose energies lave been ‘desolated by disease! Flowers impart not only fragrance and. beauty to one’s sick room, but they absolutely light up the gloom that hangs around it like 4 dark curtain, and cause cheerfulness to take the place of heaviness and oppression of heart. . Often has our soul felt exceedingly grateful to those dear women who lave considered our low estate . and sent ‘flowers, fresh,. fragrant and beautiful, to cheer our invalidism. Could we strew their pathway through life with flowers, how eagerly would our hand perform the task! an. to minister to the pleasures of the sick, that’ of itself would be sufficient reason why they should be cultivated. But when we remember that they are not only an ever-pleasant joy. to the eye, but are also true and genial teachers of moral truth and excellence, as well as tender prompters to the highest and most refined sentiments, we can perceive of how great importance it is that the hand and heart of woman’s power is in her: loveliness, and she ought to do everything to encourage it. Her loveliness has broken the bondage in which .many a sinful man was bound, through many a year. Let her increase her. power by adding to her loveliness, and. this she will not fail to do if she gives her heart up to a love of the beautiful poetry of earth.’ ” THE FATE OF GENIUS. In a recent article from the pen of Charles Lowell, which we find in the Bangor Whig, is the following passage :— “The calamities of genius are notorious; Homer was a beggar—Plautus turned a mill —Cervantes died of hunger—Bacon.lived a life of meanness and distress—Sir Walter Raleigh died on the scaffold—Spenser, the char. ming Spenser, died forsaken and in want— . Milton sold. his copy-right of “ Paradise Lost” for fifteen pounds and closed ‘his life in obscurity—Dryden lived in poverty and distress—Otway died through hunge: sezie lived a life of perfect warfare with sheritis— Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield was seid for . a trifle to keep him from the gripe oF she Jaw —Savage died in prison, where he fined for a debt of eight pounds—amd Ghatterton, the child of genius and misirtune; destroyed himself: . ; ‘And while genius has thus suiféred, “in all ages, and in all lands, ‘ countless théusands,’ bankrupt in all the higher attributes of anoble nature, have been pampered and honored by an ungrateful heartless world, envious or re those creative, itual endo nts that have for ages humanity its chief glory—its onward and its Yes, exhaustless stores of wealth are honored, and boundless paironere squandered, upon mediocrity, imbecility ans meanness, while the fountains of’fening 47% dried up, the movements of philanthrooy ®:h-) barrassed, and the wants of sufferijg ty:man-' ity unheeded! The world is usufile justit not generous to departed merit—bu' if isnot “Yes, yes, sweet little innocent, he is here, . yet sufficiently discriminating, impartia! and kneeling by your bedsides. There, lay down, . magnanitiious, to thus deal with its /iving you are very sick.” “Only once, just once, let me put my arms around your neck, and kiss you just as I used to kiss papa. I had a papa once, when we lived in the big house—there, there—Oh, I did want to see you to thank you for the bread and the cakes; I was very hungry, and it did taste so good—and little Sis, she waked up, and she eaf and eat and after a while shs went to sleep with a piece in her hand, and I went to sleep; havn’t I béen asleep a good while? I thought I was asleep in the Park, and somebody stole all my corn, and my mother whipt me for it, but I could not helpit. Oh dear, I feel sleepy now. Ican’t talk any more— pam very tired. I canndét see; the candle has gone out. IthinkIlam goingtodie. I thank you; I wanted to thank you; I wanted to thank you for the bread—I thought you would not come. Good bye—Sissee, good bye, Sissee—you willcome. mother—don’t—drink— any more—Mother—good be—.”’ “Tis the last of earth.” said the good man at our side—let us pray. Reader, Christian reader, little Katy is in her grave. Prayers for her are rw one . Faith without works wont work reform. faithful, prayerful resolution, to work out that reform which Will save you from reading the recital of such scenes—such fruits of the rum trade as this before you, will work tother for your dwn and others’ good. Go feth and lis If you hear a little voice think of poor Katy, and of the hosts of innocents slain by that remorseless tryant, rum. Go forth and seek a better spirit to rule over us. Cry aloud, ~ will he come ;”’ and the answer will be, “yes, yes, he is here.” Prouiric.—There is 8 woman away down in Tuolumne county just adapted to this country. The Columbia Gazette learns, on good authority, that a French woman, be. tween that place and Springfield, has lately given birth to four children, ©") of 1 whom together with the mothen are doing well. ASHLAND FOR Sate.—The farm of the late Henry Cxay is advertised in the Lexington Observer for sale. It contains three hundred and ory acres of the best land in Fayette county, Kentucky, gAe The happiest period of a man’s life is when he has a pretty wife, one beautifu child, more ready cash than he well knows what to do with, a good conscience, and not even in debt to a printer. ORE RL Se ee SL oS SE RR SOE SE es ER A REE cee a Ce ee ear ee ee ] . head of a “tolerably grown boy. ii het m A suffering benefactors : AMERICA & Engtanp.—The London Morning Advertiser, in contrasting the conduct of America and England, says: The mother may learn profitable lessonsfrom her daughter. , Young America sets examples to Old England, which it were well for the latter to imitate. The United States, though in their infancy as compared with the nations of Europe, not only possess greater vigor than any other country under the sun, but, having the giant’s strength, the republic knows how to wield it for her own interests and her own honor. America is no craven country. She has courage, and she knows when and how to display it. No power will insult her with impunity. She has not only a quick perception of what is an affront, but she loses not a moment in resenting it. We have just had a proof of the power and pluck of America, which has: astounded the Courts of Europe, and which, being afforded at this particular moment, ought to make this country hide its head for very shame at the contrast which its conduct, when insulted by the Czar, exhibits to the world.— Sac. Union. PEaRts & TuRNIPS.—Our ingenious friend, Dr. Worcester, who is engaged below upon the wreck of the Carrier Pigeon, presented us yesterday with several beautiful specimens of the genuine mother-of-pearl shells of the real pearl oyster, which he took with his own hands from the rocks at low water mark. It. has not hitherto been supposed that the pearl oyster was found upon this coast in such high latitudes, though within the Gulf of California, and thence along the coast to Panama, they are very common. Dr. Worcester has also left at our office a turnip of incredible dimensions, measuring three feet eight inches about. It grew upon the farm of Mr. Poole, on the northern line of the county of Santa Cruz. The soil where es was produced is constantly moisten y sea fogs and sprays,—S, F, Com. Adp, A Fisu Story might be told of the mionstrous Sturgeon exhibited for sale at the Fish Market in Leidesdorff street, yesterday morning. The creature was not less than eleven feet nine inches in length and 40 inches.in circumference, while its mouth was capacious enough to take in a morsel as large wy! om Sun. pe Honesty is the best policy.

ee VOL. 1 Ths ee THE TELEGRAPH: PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, YB LILLEY & OLIVER, * Yffice on Main st., a few doors above Ada “3 < “eer [like Lizzy Smith, and she is only two years older than me, if she does dress fine ; cause Mr. Pease says she will be just like old drunken Kate, one of these days. Qh, dear, I have bought it and thrown it away, instead of eating it.” ee “But, Sir, may I eat it then if you don’t want it?” : “No, it is not good for you; good bread is ' SeSnow then this truth (enough for man to know), . ~.“* Virtue allone is happiness below.”’ =" The only point where human bliss stands still, _~ And tastes the good, without the fall to ill : . Where only merit constant pay receives, %s blest in what it takes, and what it given : ha ne Joy tinéquallled, if ite end i Then Geet 5 aru Se te ‘Without satiety, though ’er so blessed, ss . ~=s . outsodate again. Go home. earlier, and teil, "And but more relished‘as the more distressed : » broadest ‘mirth unfedling folly wears, ) ess pleasing far than virtue’s very tears : ey 5d, from-each object, from each place acquired, oft “Ror ever exercised, yet never tired ; she is a good mother she won’t whip you.” “ Oh, Sir, she is a good mother sometimes. But I am sure the grocery man at the corner is not a good. man or he would not sell my mother rum, when he knows—for Mr. Pease told him so—that we poor children were starving. Oh, I wish all the men were good men like him, and then my mother would not drink that nasty liquor and beat and starve 4 Never dejected while another’s blest ; And where no wants, no wishes can remain, “See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow ! a “Which who but feels ean taste, but thanks oF know : _ #0 Wet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, , The bad mist miss; the good, untaught, will find ; e: to-no sect, who takes no private road, the noted Five Points of New York. > But looks through nature up to nature’s God 5 _ ‘As we plodded up Broadway, looking in > Pursues that chain which links the immense desgm@, . ) . there upon the palatial splendors of , Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine; i metropolitan “ saloons,’’—we think that is . Sees that no being any bliss can know, ’ . the word for fashionable upper class grog“ . Buttouches some above, and some below ; shops—we almost involuntarily eried \ (s<Zearns from this unién of the rising whole, ¢orn,”’ as we saw the hot spirit of that grain, . The first, last purpose of the human soul ; : 2 any—and then we should have plenty to eat.” Away she ran down the street toward that ¥ + ‘se And knows where faith, law, morals, all began={) . “old rum”—“ pale brandy” —‘pure port”’— « F[eidsick”—or “Lager-bier’”’—poured down All-end in love of God and love of man. : the hot throats of men—and ah, yes, of woHOT CORN; at midnight upon the cold curbstone crying OR, LIFE IN THE CITY. “hot corn,” to gain a penny for the purchase 2 INTERVIEW WITH Lire Karr. if . “CHAPTER 1.—Tue First ~) it Meg fe inviting to a home in their bosoms, whose cry in after years will be “Give, “give, give,” and still as ansatisfied as the horse-leach’s daughters. Again, as'we passed on up that street, still a as iS From the New York Daily Tribune of Aur 5. —~ “Hor Corn! Here’s your nice HogCorn, & Mott hot, “smoking hot, just the & eo 8 Popes agile Dot set busy and thronged at midnight, as a country = .\plaintive voice under our window, which told . Village at midday intermission of church-ser_. "sof one of the ways:of the poor to eke cut . Vice, everand anon from some side-street, Ps ‘the means of subsistence in this overburden. Came up the ery of “hot corn—hot corn! i 4 ed, = fed and worse-todged home of misery . and ever/as we heard it, and ever as we shall ¥ }<~of 80 many without ‘neans, who are con-. throughall years to come, we thought of that bes is this pi Aateh~ pines Ome! ace dee net “bad man” at the corner grocery, and that : a. tothe ‘chance of death from . her’s was the best,the strongest Maine Law some sudden outbr ing epidemic like that . preamient Which hadever fallen upon our lisnow desolating the same kind of streets in N. . *ening ear. he ‘ ‘Orleans and swallowing up its thonsands of. ) Again, a8 we tufned the corner of Spring victims from the same class of poverty-strick. 8*-, the glare and splendor of a thousand gas en, uncomfortably-previded-for human beings, lights, and the glittering cut glass at that, who know not how, or have not the power to \for the first time lighted-up bar room of the flee to the healthy ‘hilis and green ficldsof the ‘Prescott House, so lauded by the Press for its euntry. Here they live—barely live—in magnificence, dashed our eyes and almost 2les almost as hot as the hot’cotn, the ery blinded our senses toa degree of imagination _ »f which rung in our ears from dark until that first class Hotels must have such Five 3 midnight. beet errecniomae en te ce as this ' “Ho ! , glittering room, shamelessly inviting, open * corn,” Neos Us stop tcmp ed by fo the street ; when that watch-word ery, like ¢ which seemed to have been 4rou: j the pibroch’s startling peal, came up from the q Sennd of our step as we were about entering) 2¢4t Vicinity, wailing like a lost spirit on the *-* the Park, while the City Hall clodk told the} Midnight air—“Hot corn, hot corn—hete’s “hear when ir mid YOUF nice hot corn—“ smoking hot—hot—hot +. COTD. “Yes, yes! I hear you cry—it is a watchwotd—a glorious watch-word, that bids us do or die—until the smoking, hot, fiefy-furnace-like gates of hell, like this one now yawning before us shall cease to be licensed by a Christian people, to send delicate little girls at midnight through the streets, trying “ Hot corn,” to support a drunken mother, whose first glass was taken ina “fashionable saloon,” r first-class liquor selling hotel. “Hot cern,” then, be the watch-wotd of ali who would rather see the grain fed to the drunkard’s wife and children than into the insatiable hot maw of the whisky still. Let your resolutions grow hot and stron every time you hear this midnight cry, tha you will devote, if nothing more— ‘Three grains of corn, mother, Only three grains of corn,” toward the salvation of the thousand equally pitiable objects as the little girl, whose wailing cry has been the inciting cause of this present dish of “ Hot Corn—smoking hot!” little git] and “her drunken mother, and the % a 4 / \» which is not often done, because one of the . Often, if not always is out of its place, gi é ing free ingress: to the court-yard, ot live Stajbie grounds of the City Hall, which, j ca ¢ aw of bi growth of a few pics i justy wih trees and doubtful atches, we call “ the Pak 2% * Looking over the post we discovered the : ‘owner of the hot corn cry, in the person of van emaciated Tittle girl about twelve earg f old, whose dirty frock was neatly the odes of ; -'the iron, and whose fate, hands and feet, naturally white and delicate, were grim, med. with dirt until nearly of fhe same color, _ There were. two white streaks running dowh from the soft blue eyes, that told of the ho} _ scalding tears that were coursing their way _ oyer that naturally beautiful face. _.“ Some corn, Sir,” lisped the little suffy. ee ee CHAPTER—II. ze THE HOME OF LITTLE KATY. Z as si gto siqppet 1 to look Pri Mr. row the New York Daily Tribune, of Aug. 13. “3 5 alias Whe ut a week aga we published a little , pyedaress her in rou tones of command, suph . story under this title, detailing some of the cae we some corn, you little wolf’s . sufferings which crime and misery bring upon ‘ jwhelp,” or a name still more opprobious both . the poor of the City, and hinted at the cause. to herself and mother. Seeing we had no of contempt for her, she said, piteously, »9) please buy some corn, sir.” “No my dear, we do not wish any? itlis not very healthy in such warm weather.as this, and especially so late at night. { “Oh dear, then, what shall I do?” va“ Why, go home. It is past midnight, atd : such little girls as you ought not to be in the . wee of a — City at a time of or san £. “1 can’t go home~and irea jan ., sleepy. Oh deg.” sa aerial annot gohome. Why not?” , OLS Oh Sir, my mother will whin me if I go home without selling all my}corn. Oh, sir. — ear and then Jyshall have only adtndaiew ea’ dlaent resni she Ae let little Sis That story is not yet finished. The next night after the interview with that neglected, ill used little girl, the same plaintive cry of Hot corn, hot ‘corn, here is your nice hot corn,” came up through our open window, on the midnight air, while the rain came dripping down from the overcharged clouds in Just sufficient quantity to wet the thin shingle garment of the owner of that sweet young voice, without giving her an acceptable excuse for leaving her post before her hard task was completed. At length the voice grew faint, and then ceased and then we knew that exhausted nature slept—that a tender house plant was exposed to the chilling influence of a night rain—that an innocent little girl had he ecurb-stone for a bed and an iron ‘post for Z ve not had anythin illow—that by and by she would awaken, to eat:since morning, onfly one apie the ike 43 invigorated with refreshing slumber, but , , por me, and one part o}f one he threw away. foisoned with the sleep-inhaled miagma of the : — have stole a nip at the grocery filth-reeking gutter at her feet, which may be < mah trap to Be mt et something in the . breathed with impunity awake. but like the . aeatos he rig om ld t dare Hot. I did use . malaria of our Southern coast, is death to the i. ateslzemast dani fase says it is naughty to . Sleeper. Not soothed by a dreamy conscious7 Cops * want to be nau ty, indeed . ness of hearing a mother’s voice, I don’t ; And I-don’t want to be a bad soft lullaby of girl, " oe eee nence. go ee is what you shall do,” For sie amonthay nro? -"-11"7"""S09 . homie ; tell your motiiet.you have sola stall, . bility, SEE” bee oer ordepe Ae En &@~ Advertisements at reasonable rates. +. we must not tell lieg:”? ; : da n a ‘No, miy dear, that wont be a lie, becduse your mother you cannot keep awake, and if . us, ‘cause there would be nobody to sell hér . street, up and around the corner ; or out of reeking center of filth, poverty and misery, . ger bier’ “hot . its of this late supper eating peopk. under the various guises of “pure gin’’— / no longer like the music of a stringed instrumen, too, whose daughters may some day sit! of the ten thousand, just as misertble, which of a drink of the fiery dragon they are now. did not haunt us, but its absence, in spite of turning the beings call S VALLEY TELEG GRASS VALLEY, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1853. “Hush my child, lie still and slumber ;?’ ; but starting like a sentinel upon 4 sdvage frontier post, with alarm at having slept; Kat a now . shivering with night air and fear, and finally there goes a man and I did not cry hot corn, . compelled t¢ g0 home trembling like a culprit, to hear the hard words of a mother— yes & mother—but Oh! what a mother— as we dashed the corn in the gutter. “@o/. cursing her for not performing an impossibecause exhausted nature slept—because her child had not made a profit which would have enabled her more freely to indulge in the soul-and-body-destroying vice of drunkenness, to which she had fallen from an estate when “ tity carriage,” was one of the “household words” which used to greet the young ears of that poor littledeath-stricken neglected street Syfferer. It was past midnight when she awoke, and better, and here is a sixpente to buy a loaf, . found herself with adespetate effort just able and here is another to bily some nice cakeS. to reach the bottom . . . for you and Sis. Now, that is your money ;. which led to het home: We shell. got. go up Nie enirere'It to your mother; ami don’t stay . now. «Ina iittle-while, reader 7 ‘see'Vand of the ricketty stairs . where live the Cit} poor. _ Tired—worn with daily toil—for such is the work of an editot who taters for the appetites of his motning readers—we were not present the next night to note the absence of that éry from its accustomed spot; but the next, and next, and still on we listened in vain—that voite was not there. . True the same hot-corn cry, came floating upon the evening breeze across the park, or yorthed its way from some cracked fiddle voice dotvn the some dark alley with a broken Inglish atcent, that sounded almost as muchlike “ laas itdid like the comnodity the immigrant struggling to eke out his precarious existence, wished to sell. Al over this great poverty burdened, and wicked waste extravagant City, at this season, that c goes up, nightly proclaiming one ¢f the habYes, we missed that cry. ‘Hotcorn’ was ment toa weary man, for the trmble string was broken, and, to us, the harmany spoiled. What was that voice to us? It yasbutone may be daily heard where human nisery has its abode. That voice, as some others have, all reasoning, made us feel uneasy. We do not believe in spirit manifestations half as strongly as some of the nin-compoops of this world would have their long-eared listeners think, yet we do believe there isa spirit in man, not yet made manifest, yhich makes us yearn after co-existing spiritsin this sphere and in this life, and that ther) is no need of going beyond it, seeking after strange idols. We shall not stop to inquirewhether it was a spirit of “the first third orgixth sphere,” that prompted us a8 we leftiour desk one evening, to go dowu among the abodes of the poor,with a feeling of certainty that we should see or hear something of the lost volco, for that spiritJed_ us on; perhaps it was the spirit of-curlosity ; no matter, led, and we followed in thé toute we had seen that little one go before—it was one only one—we know no name—had no nimmber, nor knew no one that knew her whom we were going to find. Yes, we knew that go6d missionary, and she had told us of the géod words which hé had spoken, but would he know her trom the hundred just like her? Perhaps. It will cost nothing to inquire. We went down Centre st. with a light heart; we turned into Cross st. with a step buoyed by hope ;, we stood at the corner of Little Wafer st. and looked round inquiringly of the spirit, and mentally said‘ “which way now?” The answer was.a far-off scream of dispair. Westood still with an open ear, for the sound of prayer. followed by a sweet hymn of praise to God, went up from the site of the Old Brewery, in which we joined, thankful that that was no longer the abode of all the worst crimes ever concentrated under one roof. Hatk, a step approaches. Our unseen guide whispered, “ ask him.” It were a curious question to ask a a stranger, in such a strange place, particularly one like him haggard with overmuch care, toil or mental labor. Prematutely old, his days shortened by over work in young years as furrowed face and almost phtensied eye hurtidly indicates, as we seen the flash of the lamp upon his dark visage, as he approaches with that peculiar American step which impels the body forward at railroad speed. Shall we get out of his way before he walks over us? What if he is a crazy man? No; the spirit was night—no false raps here. It is that good missionary. That man Who has done more toreform that den of crime, the Five Points of New-York, than all the Municipal Authorities of this Police-hunting, and Prison-punishing City, where misfortune is deemed a crime, or the unfortunate dtiven to it, by the way they are treated,instead of being reformed, or strength. ‘crying hot

ened in their resolution to reform, by hard words rather than Prison bars. “ Sir,’”’ said Mr. Pease, “what brings you here at this time of night, for I know thete is an object; can IT aid you?” . “Perhaps I don’t know—a foolish whim— a little child—one of the miserable, with a drunken mothet.”? : “ Come with the then. There are many such. I am just ging to visit one, who will die before morning—a sweet little girl, born in better days, atid dying now—but you shall see, and then We will talk about the one you would seek to saye,”? We were soon threading 4 narrow alley, whiere bentileae walketh in darkness, and €8, wretched poverty and filthy misery, go hand in hand t A rchdhie . i Behold,” said our frien? “ithe frnits of our City excise. Here is the profit of money spent for license to kill the body and damn the soul.” Proven by the awful curses and loud blows of a drunken husband upon a wife, once an ornament of society, and exemplary member of a Christian Church, that came up out of one te om cellars, which human i by the holy name of home. The fettid odour of thie filthy lane had been [4a . sr Te oe ee made more fetid by the late and almnost scalding hot rains, until it seemed to us that such an air was only fit for a charnel house. With the thermometer at 86, at midnight, how could men live in such a place, below the surface of the earth. Has rum rendered them proof againét the effett of carbonje acid gas? S We groped our way along to the foot of an Outside stairs case, where our conductor paused for a midment, calling our attention to the spot. “Here,” said Mr: Pease, “ the little sufferer we are going to see, fainted a few nights ago, and lay all night exposed to the rain, where she was found and beaten in the morning by her miserable mother, because she had not sold all her corn.” “Great and unknown Cause, hast thou brought us to her door ?’’ —Our friend stared, but did not comprehend the expression: “ Be careful,” said hey‘ the stairs are very old sItvpery." Binge “But hear!”’ said we, without regarding what he was saying. . “Yes; beat her, while she was in a fever of delirium, from which she has-never rallied. — She has never spoken rationally, since she was taken, Her constant prayer seems tobe to see some particular person before she dies.” “Oh, if I could see him once more—there —there—that is himn—no, no, he did not speak 1} Had_ flowers no. other office . \ that way to me—he did not curse and beat: me.” .“‘Such is ber conversation, and that induced her mother to send for me, but I was not the man. ‘Willhe come?’ she says, every time I visited her ; for, thinking to soothe and comfort her, I promised to bring him. We hdd reached the top of the stairs and stood a moment at the open door, where sin . ry . and misery dwelt, where sickness had come, and where death would soon enter. “ Will he come?” A faint voice caine up from a low bed in one corner, seen by the very dim light of a miserable lamp. That voice. We could not enter. Let us wait a moment in the open air, for there is a choking sensation coming over us. “* Come in,’ said our friend. “Will he come!” Two hands were stretched out imploringly toward the Missionary, as the sound of his voice was recognised. “She is much weaker to-night,” said her mother, in quite a lady like manner, for the sense of her drunken wrong to her dying child had kept her sober, ever since she had been sick, “ but she is quite delirious, and all the time talking about some man that spoke kindly to her one night; and gave her moncy . to buy bread.’’ “ Will he come?” “Yes, yes, through the guidance of the good spirit that guides the world, and leads us by unseen paths, through dark plates he! has come.” . i . } . . . . . . We could not be mistaken.— . . { . . . The little emaciated form started up in bed, . and a pair of beautifnl soft blue eyes glanced around the room, peering through the semidarkness, as if in search of something heard but unseen. “ Katy, darling,” said the mother, “what is the matter?” , * Where is he, mother? . He is here I heard him speak.” . upward progress! . a ce eheneaeeagemaret WOMAN AND FLOWERS, The editor of the Louisville eM very readable article: under thishead, from which we cut the closing paragraga. “Tt is full of the true poetry cf natura! and refined sentiments: can ca “ Blessings on the heads of these wha send flowery presents to those whose energies lave been ‘desolated by disease! Flowers impart not only fragrance and. beauty to one’s sick room, but they absolutely light up the gloom that hangs around it like 4 dark curtain, and cause cheerfulness to take the place of heaviness and oppression of heart. . Often has our soul felt exceedingly grateful to those dear women who lave considered our low estate . and sent ‘flowers, fresh,. fragrant and beautiful, to cheer our invalidism. Could we strew their pathway through life with flowers, how eagerly would our hand perform the task! an. to minister to the pleasures of the sick, that’ of itself would be sufficient reason why they should be cultivated. But when we remember that they are not only an ever-pleasant joy. to the eye, but are also true and genial teachers of moral truth and excellence, as well as tender prompters to the highest and most refined sentiments, we can perceive of how great importance it is that the hand and heart of woman’s power is in her: loveliness, and she ought to do everything to encourage it. Her loveliness has broken the bondage in which .many a sinful man was bound, through many a year. Let her increase her. power by adding to her loveliness, and. this she will not fail to do if she gives her heart up to a love of the beautiful poetry of earth.’ ” THE FATE OF GENIUS. In a recent article from the pen of Charles Lowell, which we find in the Bangor Whig, is the following passage :— “The calamities of genius are notorious; Homer was a beggar—Plautus turned a mill —Cervantes died of hunger—Bacon.lived a life of meanness and distress—Sir Walter Raleigh died on the scaffold—Spenser, the char. ming Spenser, died forsaken and in want— . Milton sold. his copy-right of “ Paradise Lost” for fifteen pounds and closed ‘his life in obscurity—Dryden lived in poverty and distress—Otway died through hunge: sezie lived a life of perfect warfare with sheritis— Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield was seid for . a trifle to keep him from the gripe oF she Jaw —Savage died in prison, where he fined for a debt of eight pounds—amd Ghatterton, the child of genius and misirtune; destroyed himself: . ; ‘And while genius has thus suiféred, “in all ages, and in all lands, ‘ countless théusands,’ bankrupt in all the higher attributes of anoble nature, have been pampered and honored by an ungrateful heartless world, envious or re those creative, itual endo nts that have for ages humanity its chief glory—its onward and its Yes, exhaustless stores of wealth are honored, and boundless paironere squandered, upon mediocrity, imbecility ans meanness, while the fountains of’fening 47% dried up, the movements of philanthrooy ®:h-) barrassed, and the wants of sufferijg ty:man-' ity unheeded! The world is usufile justit not generous to departed merit—bu' if isnot “Yes, yes, sweet little innocent, he is here, . yet sufficiently discriminating, impartia! and kneeling by your bedsides. There, lay down, . magnanitiious, to thus deal with its /iving you are very sick.” “Only once, just once, let me put my arms around your neck, and kiss you just as I used to kiss papa. I had a papa once, when we lived in the big house—there, there—Oh, I did want to see you to thank you for the bread and the cakes; I was very hungry, and it did taste so good—and little Sis, she waked up, and she eaf and eat and after a while shs went to sleep with a piece in her hand, and I went to sleep; havn’t I béen asleep a good while? I thought I was asleep in the Park, and somebody stole all my corn, and my mother whipt me for it, but I could not helpit. Oh dear, I feel sleepy now. Ican’t talk any more— pam very tired. I canndét see; the candle has gone out. IthinkIlam goingtodie. I thank you; I wanted to thank you; I wanted to thank you for the bread—I thought you would not come. Good bye—Sissee, good bye, Sissee—you willcome. mother—don’t—drink— any more—Mother—good be—.”’ “Tis the last of earth.” said the good man at our side—let us pray. Reader, Christian reader, little Katy is in her grave. Prayers for her are rw one . Faith without works wont work reform. faithful, prayerful resolution, to work out that reform which Will save you from reading the recital of such scenes—such fruits of the rum trade as this before you, will work tother for your dwn and others’ good. Go feth and lis If you hear a little voice think of poor Katy, and of the hosts of innocents slain by that remorseless tryant, rum. Go forth and seek a better spirit to rule over us. Cry aloud, ~ will he come ;”’ and the answer will be, “yes, yes, he is here.” Prouiric.—There is 8 woman away down in Tuolumne county just adapted to this country. The Columbia Gazette learns, on good authority, that a French woman, be. tween that place and Springfield, has lately given birth to four children, ©") of 1 whom together with the mothen are doing well. ASHLAND FOR Sate.—The farm of the late Henry Cxay is advertised in the Lexington Observer for sale. It contains three hundred and ory acres of the best land in Fayette county, Kentucky, gAe The happiest period of a man’s life is when he has a pretty wife, one beautifu child, more ready cash than he well knows what to do with, a good conscience, and not even in debt to a printer. ORE RL Se ee SL oS SE RR SOE SE es ER A REE cee a Ce ee ear ee ee ] . head of a “tolerably grown boy. ii het m A suffering benefactors : AMERICA & Engtanp.—The London Morning Advertiser, in contrasting the conduct of America and England, says: The mother may learn profitable lessonsfrom her daughter. , Young America sets examples to Old England, which it were well for the latter to imitate. The United States, though in their infancy as compared with the nations of Europe, not only possess greater vigor than any other country under the sun, but, having the giant’s strength, the republic knows how to wield it for her own interests and her own honor. America is no craven country. She has courage, and she knows when and how to display it. No power will insult her with impunity. She has not only a quick perception of what is an affront, but she loses not a moment in resenting it. We have just had a proof of the power and pluck of America, which has: astounded the Courts of Europe, and which, being afforded at this particular moment, ought to make this country hide its head for very shame at the contrast which its conduct, when insulted by the Czar, exhibits to the world.— Sac. Union. PEaRts & TuRNIPS.—Our ingenious friend, Dr. Worcester, who is engaged below upon the wreck of the Carrier Pigeon, presented us yesterday with several beautiful specimens of the genuine mother-of-pearl shells of the real pearl oyster, which he took with his own hands from the rocks at low water mark. It. has not hitherto been supposed that the pearl oyster was found upon this coast in such high latitudes, though within the Gulf of California, and thence along the coast to Panama, they are very common. Dr. Worcester has also left at our office a turnip of incredible dimensions, measuring three feet eight inches about. It grew upon the farm of Mr. Poole, on the northern line of the county of Santa Cruz. The soil where es was produced is constantly moisten y sea fogs and sprays,—S, F, Com. Adp, A Fisu Story might be told of the mionstrous Sturgeon exhibited for sale at the Fish Market in Leidesdorff street, yesterday morning. The creature was not less than eleven feet nine inches in length and 40 inches.in circumference, while its mouth was capacious enough to take in a morsel as large wy! om Sun. pe Honesty is the best policy.