Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, January 06, 1876, Image 1
lewis m. grist, proprietor. j |U Inbepenbent Jfamilg Hctospper: Jfor tjje llromotion fff % political, Social, ^gricnltaral anb (Commercial Interests of t|e Sontjj. | teems?$3.00 a year, in advance.
"VOL. 22. YOBKVILLE, 6. C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 6, 1876. NO. 1.
^elected foctnr.
JOHN JANKIN'S SERMON.
The minister said last night, says he,
"Don't be afraid of givin' ;
If your life ain't nothing to other folks,
Whv, what's the use o' livin '?"
And that's what 1 say to wife, says I,
There's Brown, the mis'rable sinner,
He'd sooner a beggar would starve than give
A cent toward buyin' a dinner.
I tell you our minister's prime, he is,
But I couldu't quite determine,
When I heard him a givin' it right and left,
Just who was hit bv his sermon.
Of course, there couldn't be no mistake
When he talked of long-winded pravin",
For Peters and Johnson, they sot and scowled
At every word he was savin'.
And the minister he went on to say,
"There's various kinds o' clieatih",
And religion's as good for every day
As it is to bring to ineetin'.
I don't think much of a man that gives
TKn Tomiiru uf mv nreacllill'.
And spends his time the followin' week
In eneatin' and overreachinY'
I guess that dose was bitter enough
For a man like Jones to swaller;
But I noticed he didn't open his mouth,
But once, after that, to holler.
Hurrah ! says I, for the minister,
Of course I said it quiet;
Give us some more of this open talk ;
rt's very refreshing diet.
The minister hit 'em every time;
And when he spoke of fashion,
And a riggin' out in bows and things,
As woman's rulin' passion,
And a comin' to church to see the styles,
I couldn't help a winkin',
And a nudgin' my wife, and says I, "That's you," i
And I guess it sot her thinkin'.
Says I to myself, That sermon's pat,
But man is a queer creation ;
And I'm much afraid that mosto' folks,
Won't take the application.
Now if he had said a word about
My personal mode o' sinnin', 1
I'd have gone to work to right myself,
And notset her a grinnin'.
Just then the minister says, says he,
"And now I've come to* the fellers
Who've lost this shower by usin' their friends
As sort o' moral umbrelfers.
'-a r*a>' coir hp liriH UA11 P
In stead of huntin' your brothers';
(Jo home," says he, "and wear the coats
You've tried to tit tor others."
My wife, she nudged, and Brown, he winked, (
And there was lots o' siuilin',
And lots o' lookin' at our pew ;
It sot inv blood a bilin'.
Says, I to myself, our minister
Is gittin' a*little bitter ;
I'll tell him when ineetin's out that I
Ain't at all that kind of critter.
(Driginal
.
A THRILLING STORY OF WESTERN LIFE.
BY MRS. IIE.NHY DEAS,
CHAPTER I.
"My dear Esther ; surely, you canuot be in
earnest?you are not really bent upon taking
this rash step!"
"I am not bent upon taking what I consider j
a rash step, aunt Lizzie," calmly rejoined the
young lady addressed, a beautiful blonde of;
some two-and-twenty years, raising her eyes, :
as she spoke, from the embroidery ou which
one wao cu^n^cu.
"But every one does?every one must con-'
sider it so. Only think what a very brief acquaintanceship
yours with Mr. Raymond has i
been ; too brief to give you.any iusight into his
character."
"Pardon me, aunt; I have a very clear insight
iuto his character."
"So you imagine ; but, my dear child, how
is that possible, under the circumstances?"
"Uuder what circumstances?"
"All the circumstances of our intercourse j
with him. His coming among us as a perfect
stranger; our entire ignorance of his autece- 1
dents?in fact of everything connected with
him."
"I am not ignorant of his antecedents. He
has told me all about himself, and all about
his past life."
"But what guarantee have you that his ac-!
count is to be relied on ?" j
"The guarantee of his own word?of his i
honor as a gentleman," proudly rejoined ;
Ether, a bright, indignant Hush rising to her i
cheek, and the tremor of her voice betraying, !
for the first time, the emotion that Btirred her
heart. "I trust Paul Raymond implicitly, and
would as soou lose my faith in heaven, as suffer
one doubt of his truth to pollute my mind!"
"Esther?Esther ! You do not reHect upon
what you say," exclaimed her aunt in a hor- j
rified tone. "Really, such language is almost i
impious?it is, to say the least, most extrava-1
gantand unwarrantable."
"It only expresses what I feel," replied the
young lady, resuming her former calm tone, |
? ^11 a. 1 I
ttiougn ner agnation was sun appareut, in uer (
quickly-coruing breath and the unsteadiness i
of the hand which guided her needle through
her work. "But, indeed, aunt Lizzie, I think
we had better not argue the point any farther.,
Our ideas are so entirely different, that I fear j
we shall never agree in this matter."
"And does it cause you no pain, Esther, to
find that I disapprove of the course you are
pursuing?"
"Certainly it does. But when I have tried !
every means to convince you of the injustice j
ofyour opposition, and failed,whatam I todo?"
"Yield to my wishes, like a dutiful girl, and i
give up this wild scheme, which can only re- j
suit in wretchedness to yourself aud to ail who i
are interested in your welfare."
"The number of those is small enough,",
said Esther, somewhat bitterly. "I do not j
think I need distress myself on the score of the
trouble I shall cause them."
"I think you are ungrateful to speak in that'
manner, considering the care and kindness ;
which have been bestowed upon you from
childhood."
"You have been very kind to me, aunt;
and I am sure I have no wish to appear ungrateful,"
said Esther, softening. "But what
I mean is?and you cannot deny that it is
really so?that there are, in truth, but few people
to whom my actions are of much impor
tKiiop. or who would waste one hour in la-,
meeting my fate, even though I should marry
a wild Indian, or bury myself in the depths of
the remotest and most uncivilized spot on the
face of the globe."
"Well, you certainly cannot quarrel with
Providence for depriving you of your nearest
relatives ; and I am sure your uncle and I have
done all that we could to supply their loss to
you, ever since you were placed under our j
care. And I think you owe it to us now to be
guided by our wishes and our judgment, in a
matter of such importance as vour settlement
in life."
"It is because this matter is so important,'
that I think I owe it to myself to consult mv
own judgment, and my own feeliugs," said
Esther, speaking in a low tone, but with unshaken
resolution in her face and voice.
"Aunt Lizzie, you would not bid me disobey 1
the dictates of my heart?"
"I would, if they were imprudent or wrong.
The heart?and this, by the way, is a term
very commouly misapplied to the impulse of
the imagination, or of a romantic fancy?is
not as safe a guide as the judgment and experience
of those who know the world and its
ways, and the snares and pitfalls which are
spread for the young and unwary, like yourself"
^ |
"I am not so very young, aunt. You speak
as though I were an unfledged girl ofsixteeu." i
"You have but just entered your twenty-'
1 third year; and what knowledge have you of
the wickedness of human nature?"
"Very little?and I hope it will not soon be
increased," rejoined Esther lightly. "Dear
aunt, please don't think me obstinate and
; headstrong; but give up this gloomy view of
things, and believe me, when I assure, you that
I am not acting as rashly as you suppose. It
is really ray heart, and not my fancy, which
guides me ; and I think it is the safest counselor
after all.
"I wish, indeed, that I could think so," was
the reply, in a tone almost sepulchral in its !
solemnity, and which aroused in Esther a
strong inclination to indulge in a laugh; for
it must be owned that she had in her disposition
a considerable share of rairthfulness, or
of what her aunt termed levity, and was never
disposed to linger long on the serious side j
of any question. Notwithstanding this light i
bent, however, she was quite capable of holding
her own against any opinion or influence
which did not tally with her wishes ; nor had
she the least inteution now of yielding to the i
opposition brought to bear upon her, although
. ^ ; ^ J:r.. .t? j;?1
sne WHS HUXIOUS IU lUUUlijr luc Uiopicaouicsuc (
was causing, by every means in her power.,
and was especially anxious to bring the present
discussion to a favorable close.
In order togive the reader a clearer insight
into the state of affairs in question, it may be
well to go back a few weeks previous to the
commencement of his narrative, at which period
Mr. Paul Raymond had first made his j
appearance in the circles of New York society. {
He came from the wilds of the West, where |
he reported himself to have been living for
the past ten years ; but was a perfect specimen
of polished courtesy and good breeding,
though indulging in a certain freedom of
speech, and not ungraceful carelessness of
manner, which signalized a more unrestrained
mode of life than that followed by the inhabi-,
tants of populous and long-settled regions. .
He was eminently handsome, and his conver- i
sation gave evidence of his thorough acquain- i
tance with all the current topics of the day. ;
Had he possessed few attractions, people I
would soon have ceased to trouble themselves
about him ; but as it was, speculation was rife
concerning him. By some he was reported to
be the owner of extensive gold and silver
mines, which were the source ofinexhaustible
wealth. Others pronounced him a mere adventurer,
depending ou his own personal
qualification to ingratiate himself into popular
favor, and perhaps secure an advantageous
alliance with some wealthy and aristocratic i
family. It was a noticeable fact that nearly I
all the young ladies to whom he was intro-1
' -- > ? - J ? - 1:_?~ 1:1.: j
nucea conceiveu au umueuinie u&iug ?uu numiration
for him ; while the fathers and moth- '
ers, for the most part, showed an inclination to :
hold somewhat aloof, as though deeming it I
prudent not to encourage the advances of one |
of whom they knew so little. Apparently, j
Mr. Raymond was equally indifferent to admiration
and to mistrust. He was genial and I
courteous to all, ignored covert slights, yet
maintained a quiet dignity which asserted its
claims to consideration and respect. This
nonchalance, however, was speedily shaken by j
his acquaintanceship with Esther Leightou, j
to whom he was presented at a public ball, j
and with whom, to use a somewhat hackney- j
ed, but in this case very suitable phrase, he i
almost immediately fell over head and ears in j
love. And it was not very long before he I
managed to assure himself that the object of!
his regard?one of the most quiet, decorous i
and modest of reigning belles, and one, more- j
over, who had already received and refused
several advantageous offers of marriage?was |
guilty of the extreme indecorum of having suffered
herself to fall in love with him ic return, j
The delight and triumph of the suitor, and
the displeasure and dismay of the lady's guar-!
diatis, on making this discovery, may both be
more easily imagined than described.
?*?oc? rvf* o it a on/I tltorofiiro nnito of '
JJ9UICI TVC40 VI uu\4) DllVti V?VI V| <JMIW MW ,
liberty to make her own choice; but Mrs.
Pembroke, her father's sister, who had prided j
herself upon being the pink of propriety all
her life, considered it her duty to warn her
most solemnly against the rashness of her conduct,
and to protest, with all the vehemence
of which she was capable, against the match |
she contemplated making. Argument, en-j
treaty, reproof, all alike proved vain. Esther !
was as resolute inwardly, as she was outwardly
mild and gentle ; and although sincerely re- j
gretting the disapproval of her uncle and ,
aunt, was evidently bent upon carrying her I
point. Mr. Pembroke was less determined in
his opposition than his better half. He was an j
indolent man, and always found contention of
any kind troublesome; so when it became
plain to him that his niece's mind was thor- j
oroughly made up, he was willing to let her
alone. "My dear," he said to his wife, "when
a stubborn woman gets the bit between her ;
teeth, you may as well drop the bridle and j
let her take her course. If she has a fancy to i
run over a precipice, she'll do it."
'Nonsense, Mr. Pembroke," said the lady
shortly. "Suppose she breaks her neck."
"Well, then, it must be broken?that's all. j
I, for one, see no use in making a commotion
about it. It's ordained by fate, I suppose, and j
what is bound to happen must happen, in
spite of all that you and 1 can do." Mrs. j
Pembroke, thus reduced to the necessity of I
carrying on the buttle alone, was finally forced
... : .... I
iw jjivc 11/ uj; in uto|?(ui , ituviug iijiuui Uiic |
tress of the field. The marriage was fixed for
the first of Juue. It was now May, and the
engagement was scarcely three weeks old! j
Of course the affair created a sensation in society,
and Mrs. Grundy, as usual, had plenty
to say. Speculation, wonder, criticism, disap- J
proval, pity, all had full play ; but Esther, in j
spite of the many comments which Mrs. Pern-!
broke took care should reach her ears, remained
unmoved through them all. Quietly j
and without any fuss, her preparations were j
carried on, chiefly under her own supervision;
for her aunt, in her displeasure, declared that
she washed her hands of the whole matter.
She did not, however, openly quarrel with {
Esther. She was really fond of her, after her ,
own fashion, and her anger arose chiefly from j
the fear, which in her mind amounted almost
to a certainty, that the latter was wilfully
throwing away herchaucesof happiness in life.
"You will have to be a great deal to me,
Paul," Esther said to her lover one day, not
long before their marriage ; "for I have quarreled
with nearly everyone for your sake."
"I will he everything to you, as you will be
to me," was his rejoinder. "What need we
care for the displeasure or disapproval of outsiders,
while we have each other to care for ?
We will live a blissful little world of our own."
"And suppose, after you get me out into
that wild western country, you should tire of
me, and go off and leave me alone among the
savages," said Esther, jestingly. "What
would become of me then ?"
Paul Raymond's manner suddenly grew
very grave. "My love, you are speaking
lightly now," he rejoined, in a serious tone ;
"but, tell me truly, do you trust me with all
your heart and soul?do you place yourselt in
my keeping without one doubt, without one
fear?"
"Without a single one," she answered, readily,
raising her frank eyes to his face. "What
would my love he worth if I did not ?"
"And will this faith ofyours last unshaken
always.no matter what betides ? Will you
still trust me implicitly, no rnatterwhat clouds
may come over our sky, as they sometimes
come even into the brightest and happiest
lives ?"
"Yes, always?but Paul, what makes you
speak of such things now ?"
"A mere fancy, dearest," he answered, in a
lighter tone. "It is pleasant to me to hear
the same sweet assurance, again and again,
from your lips?to know that even if misfortune
darkens our path, your heart will remain
unchanged."
"If aunt Lizzie could hear you, all her
gloomy forebodings would be increased tenfold,"
said Esther, with a laugh. "Fortunately,
my fancy is less morbid than hers."
"Remember, I am not presaging evil," he
rejoined. "God forbid that it should ever
come upon us! Only, if it does come, I would
have you prepared to meet it bravely."
"I am not afraid, so long as we can meet it j
together," was her reply. He said no more
at the time, and the conversation passed to a
lighter topic. But how often, in later days,
did it recur to her mind.
The time appointed for the wedding came,
and it took place quietly, in the morning, in j
the presence of a few intimate friends. Mrs. j
Pembroke, relenting at the last, would have j
had it a more brilliant affair; but her uiece re- !
fused to accede to this proposition. It suited
her ideas better to have as little display on '
the occasion as possible. There was a pretty
lunch, with a huge bride-cake, and some little :
ceremony in the way of drinking toasts, which 1
both bride and groom found very tiresome, j
And when it was over, the carriage came to
the door and they were driven to the wharf, j
to embark on the steamer which was to sail
that afternoon.
"Unnatural girl," said Mrs. Pembroke, as
she turned from the door, after waving them
her last farewell. "She actually did not shed
a tear."
"Why should she cry ?" placidly questioned i
Mr. Pembroke. "Ought she not to be glad
that she has got her own way?"
"But coldness and indifference, in addition :
to obstinacy and self-will, are very hard to be j
put up with," rejoined his wife.
"It's the way with all womankind," said ,
Mr. Pembroke, who did not entertain a very !
hiirh oniuion of the merits of the female sex. 1
"One thing is, my dear, ehe'll be dying to come
home again in three months' time, or even j
less, if it's any consolation to you to think so."
CHAPTER II.
The steamer "Gen. Jackson," on which the I
bridal pair embarked, was, in those days, one
of the finest which plied between New York
and Aspinwall; aud Esther found herself pro- >
vided with so many comforts as almost to do j
away with the inconveniences of sea-life. She
was fortunately a good sailor, and did not,
therefore, suffer from that most distressing and
depressing malady, sea-sickness; so that al- j
though they encountered some rather boister- j
ous weather on the way, she was never debar- |
red from enjoying the freedom of the vessel, j
or from partaking of the bountiful aud really j
sumptuous fare which the captaiu's care had I
provided. When the rough winds abated, j
and the moon, shining out at night in its full j
glory, shed an enchanting sheen over the i
"waste of waters" around them, she would sit i
on deck at her husband's side, for hours, rev- |
eling in the beauty of the scene, and loth to ;
leave it for the cramped walls of her state- j
room, which, in the day-time, sneseiaom en-1
tered at all. During these tranquil nightwatches,
many were the fond vows poured
softly by Raymond into her willing ear. He
was more lover-like now even than in the
daysof their brief courtship; finding in their
present surroundings more scope for the expression
of his devotion than he had done
amid the adverse circumstances of their previous
intercourse. Each added day of their
companionship seemed to draw them nearer
together, and convinced Esther more entirely i
of the wisdom of her choice. How often she
smiled at the remembrance of the fears and !
doubts her friends had entertaiued, and the
endeavors of her aunt to dissuade her from
taking the step which, she felt assured, would
result in the attainment of her highest earthly
happiness! He** quiet but deep nature yielded
itself absorbingly to the claims of this first,
sacred passion; and those peaceful days on
ship-board, when they two were all in all to
each other, learning each other's inmost hearts, 1
and exchanging sweet confidences, without one
untoward influence to mar the completeness I
of their enjoyment, were full of the most pure \
and perfect happiness she had ever known,
and often recurred afterwards to her memory, j
as days of golden light set apart from much
overwhelming darkness and gloom.
Nothing of interest?that is to say, nothing :
unusual, for everything was new and interesting
now to our heroine, who was in the mood j
for culling a charm from the most common- j
place eveuts?occurred during the first part
of the voyage, which terminated prosperously
at the Isthmus, after a duration of four weeks.
Here they crossed to Panama, and were trans- j
ferred, with their belongings, to the "Queen of
the West," waiting there to receive them. i
Among the passengers who embarked on
this vessel, was an individual from the inte- i
rior, who immediately attracted the attention
of all on board. He was apparently of Spanish
extraction, speaking that language fluently,
though expressing himself with tolerable
accuracy in English also, and never losing at) j
opportunity of conversing with any one who
would give him a chance to do so. He was
almost gigantic in height, powerfully built,
with a swarthy complexion, jet black hair,
and eyes almost as dark, with heavy, over- j
hanging brows. His face was closely shaved,
with the exception of a short peaked beard
upon his chin. His features, though large,
were rather symmetrical than otherwise, but j
with a decidedly sinister expression, which
was not modified, but rather made worse, by
a frightful scar extending over his left cheek
from the corner of his mouth to his eye-brow.
This was apparently the residtof a gash made
by a sword or other sharp weapon; and, indeed,
to judge from the appearance of the
Sefior Pedro Alasquez?for such he au-;
nounced his name to be?it seemed a not un- I
likely supposition that he had, in the course
his life, been engaged in more than one contest
of no childish character. There was an
air of defiant recklessness and braggadocio ;
about him that indicated a readiness not only
to stand on the defensive when occasion reuuired
it: but, perhaps, to rush with uncilled-J
for ardor into an affray. Yet, on the other
hand, he wassuperfiouslv ceremonious and polite,
especially to the ladies, who for the most'
part regarded him with a mixture of amuse- i
inent and awe. Before many days had elapsed, I
it became evident that he had selected the
Raymonds as the objects of his special attention.
At table he waited assiduously upon
Esther, offering her every dainty within
reach, and at other times would seek the society
of her husband and herself, and endeav-;
or, by the most polished arts of conversation, j
to ingratiate himself in their favor; Yet all
this was done with an appearance of such profound
deference, and almost ostentatious humility,
that it was next to impossible to resent
his advances as intrusive, or regard his '
behaviour otherwise than as that of a wellmeaning
but eccentric person, not sufficiently j
versed in the customs of society to restrict.
himself to the limits which bound a casual I
acquaintanceship. Esther conceived an instinctive
dislike to him, and would gladly j
have kept aloof from him ; but her husband
rather chid her for this sentiment, declaring i
that the man was nothing but an inoffensive
savage, and that it would be a pity to wound j
his feelings by the display of an uncalled for j
prejudice on their part. Willing to accept j
his judgment, in this as in most cases, as su- j
perior to her own, she tried to conquer her :
dislike, and to reciprocate, in some degree, j
the advances of the singular being who testified
so much anxiety to establish himself in
her good graces.
' Iu the sultry atmosphere of the tropics, a
degree of languor and inertia stole over Es- i
ther which robbed her completely of the '
I cheerful elasticity of spirit she had hitherto | j
displayed. An inexplicable melancholy op-11
pressed her, and Raymond, fearing she might
fall ill, became, for a time, seriously alarmed.; f
As they entered a cooler temperature, howev- <
er, her strength gradually revived, and the i
healthful color was restored to her cheek, and <
brilliancy to her eye; yet her former gayety 1
did not return, for a cloud was cast over her 1
spirits which she could not banish, though i
herself ignorant of the source from whence it 1
arose. , <
The Spaniard haunted her like a shadow, 1
and her aversion to him daily acquired greater ?
force. Yet, by a strange fatuity, her husband j
seemed blinded to all suspicion ; all fear that j t
this devotion was prompted by any but the t
purest and most disinterested motives, and i c
even jested with her upon the unlooked for *
admiration she had inspired ! t
''Esther, my love," he said to her one day, j t
approaching her when she was alone, "I bring i
you a piece of news which ought to convince i?
you of your injustice in regard to our gallant i f
friend, and restore him to his former place in 11
your esteem." ;C
"He never occupied a very high place in c
?i ?:i: k..? T - B
ray esteem, sain nistuer siumug, uut jl aiu o
quite willing to be convinced of any error of a
mine which you may choose to poiut out." ; t
"Well, he has done, or rather is going to do, s
me a very great favor. He is intimately ac- j 1
quainted with a very influential personage, a
whose friendship would be of inestimable val- ; t
ue to me, especially in a political point of view ; r
and he has promised to present me to him at j
the earliest possible opportunity."
"Is that all ?" asked Esther in a disappoint- :
ed tone.
"All! You unreasonable child ! I think it .
is a great deal. General K is one of the i f
most prominent men in our part of the world ! j
and yet, by a run of ill-fotrune, as it seems, i
there has always been some impediment in the I i
way of ray coming in contact with him. Sev- 1 1
eral times I have been foiled, in the simplest! r
and yet the most provoking way, in ray at- ; t
tempts to meet him ; and now the opportuni- j 1
ty of an introduction, through an intimate 1 v
friend, is too good a one to be thrown aside." j a
"But," said Esther, speaking slowly, as if r
reluctant to cast a damper upon his euthusi-1 1
asm, "how can you tell that this talked-oflt
/ _: i_l:_ 11? \vu?? : t
irieiHisiup irttnjf caicjuj * n uob jmuvi uu*w v
you that this Alasquez is speaking the truth?" t
"I did not know that you were of so suspi- r
cious a nature," said Raymond, laughing, fc
"My motto is, believe the best of a person , t
until you find out the worst. I wonder that v
you ventured to marry me, as I could give no i p
proof but my own word of not being an im- j l"
postor." j n
"Ah ! Paul, that was so different." : a
"I do not see wherein the great difference ; c
consists." # j s
"The idea of comparing yourself with that: t
man !" she indignantly rejoined. "Why, his j
very face bears the impress of wickedness ;ji
upon it." ' a
"Wickedness! Now, my dear Esther, that I I
is really too bad. It bears the impress of a j
very ugly wound, which certainly does not | ii
enhance its sweetness of expression?and that i e
reminds me, by-the-by, that he told me yes- i b
terday how that wound was obtained, and it j u
reflects great credit upon him. I believe he f
is a good-hearted, well-meaning fellow, though j
somewhat uncivilized and queer;and he real-1 y
ly seems to have taken quite a fancy to me. I j a
wish I could disabuse you of your prejudice v
against him." ! u
"I cannot help feelbg as I do; but it need ' g
- -1 If /I/\ao nnt intor. I
not worry you, rum, siuoc it uuro uuu iu,u |
fere in any way with your plans." ' p
"But it may interfere with a plan I had j y
thought of," said Raymond, hesitatingly; j r
"for I would not do anything against your ! I
will." 19
"What plan was that?" she asked, not |
without a foreboding of something unpleasant i p
in store for her. ' t
"I did think of inviting him to accompany c
us home?just to remain for a day or so, un- j a
til we could find an opportunity of going to- ! 1
gether in quest of General K?." : j
"Oh, Paul, don't!" she cried impulsively,' f
seizing his hand. "Don't ask him to go with
us, whatever you do. Appoint some place to li
meet him, if you will; but please don't bring , r
him to our house." s
"Well, dear, of course I will not, since you ! n
object to it so strongly," be replied gently, j ii
though with a touch of disappointment in his , t
tone. "I was only anxious to make some i a
slight return of his courtesy ; but I am glad p
I spoke to you beforehand about it. Of course ' f
he never dreamed of receiviug the invitation, j
so it will make no difference to him." j n
"I dislike so much to oppose your wishes," j a
said Esther in a troubled tone. "I know you t
think me very unreasonable; but, indeed, I f
cannot overcome my repugnance to the idea p
of having him with us longer than is neces- , t
sary."
"On the whole, you may be right," said I
Raymond. "One thing is certain, at any rate ; e
it will be infinitely more agreeable to me to , I
have you an to rayseu, wnen we gei uomc, o
than to be annoyed by the presence of any a
outsider, for ever so short time. The thing ! t
merely occurred to me as a matter of expedi-!
ency?one has to be a little politic sometimes, 1;
you know?and as to the man himself, I neith- , t
er dislike nor mistrust him." ' b
"I do?both," said Esther, in her quiet, de- y
cisive tone. h
"I know it, little skeptic that you are! s
But I shall not quarrel with you again on : il
that score. I shall take care that he does not1
persecute you with his attentions after we
land, since they vex you so much ; though I i 5
must own that I look upon them merely as an v
involuntary tribute to your charms." j a
"Involuntary or not, they are hateful to . v
me," she rejoined with energy. "And I do is
wish, Paul, that you would not be led into
any intimacy with him. .Something tells me I
that he will prove no true friend."
"Trust me to take care of myself, my wise a
little counselor," said Raymond lightly. "Re- o
member, I have not had you with me all these tl
years to keep me out of mischief." b
"Now you are laughing at me, Paul; but
don't you know a woman's instinct often finds p
out things that men's superior wisdom fails to s<
discover?" ; fi
"I am very willing to accept yours as my g
guide, as a general rule," replied Raymond ; fi
"only in matters of expediency, or where my
interest is concerned, my judgment may, per- f
haps, be better than yours." c
"Perhaps," said Esther, with a doubtful air, h
that made her husband laugh ; and in a little
badinage on his part, which she took very ti
good-naturedly, the disagreeable subject was 1
put aside. 8
Two days later, they arrived in port; and n
to Esther's great relief, Sefior Alasquez took t
his leave of them, with only an indefinite a
promise to see them again before very long, a
She did not at all believe in the excessive in- n
timacy with Gen. K?, of which he boasted 1 v
to her husband ; and she trusted that some v
other opportunity would be afforded the latter o
of procuring the introduction he so greatly a
desired, in which case he would probably cease f
to wish for a continuance of the friendship a
which the Spaniard had seemed so anxious to a
establish between them. a
Raymond's home lay in a luxuriant valley,: a
bounded on the north by a spur of the Sierras, h
and remote from any settlement, except one t
or two straggling Indian colonies. An old a
town, formerly inhabited by Spaniards, but a
now almost in ruins, was about six miles dis- a
tant, and here one or two miserable-looking, c
poverty-stricken families still made their
abode, earning a scanty livelihood by trading
with the Indians, and making occasional pilgrimages
into more populous regions, to sell
the products of their small farms.
Had Esther been of a less buoyant disposition,
and less in a mood to find everything '
wuleur de rose, she might have felt some dis- i
uay upon her first introduction to th* menage <
)ver which she was in future to preside. The .'
louse was roomy enough, and tolerably well i I
"urnished ; and nothing could be more beauti-1 I
'ul than the landscape around, abounding in ! i
uxuriant vegetation, brilliant with tropical j I
:oloring, with the peaks of the grand Sierras i f
ifting themselves in the distance against a <
iky rivalling that of Italy in its clear and , ]
>erfectblue; but the entire solitude which i t
mcorapassed it?the distance from civiliza- j <
ion?the half-savage domestics who were the i
>nly attainable ones in the neighborhood, and i |
vhose uncouth appearance and almost unin-! 1
elligible language seemed to invest with ut-;?
er hopelessness the idea of ever training them j
nto a proper knowledge of household duties? I
ill these, and many other disadvantages, of- ?
ering so striking a contrast to the comforts i
* - / IH-a* 1 1 Llil. ' I
inu conveniences 01 me me Xismer imu mm
irto enjoyed, might uot unreasonably have ;
:ast a slight damper over his spirits, and j
omewhat dimmed the brightness with which
inticipation had invested her future. Love, j
lie magician, however, raised his wand, and i
hed enchantment over the whole. Esther
ooked only at the sunny side of the picture,!
ind decided that the task, which she imme-1
liately set herself, of effecting a complete
eforniation wherever it was needful, would I
>rove no labor, but a delight. |
CHAPTER III.
A week had elapsed, and the work of trans-1
orraation, which Esther had undertaken, was i
irogressiug bravely, and was, so far, most sat- j
sfactory in its results. Order and conven- i
ence began to reign where confusion had :
litherto prevailed. Even in the kitchen, where
eform had seemed most impracticable, somehing
like improvement was already manifest,
rwoofthe Indian servants, wild creatures,
?ho appeared to regard dirt as a necessary
.djunct to their existence, aud could by no
neans receive into their comprehension the
essons of neatness which their new mistress j
ook pains to enforce, were dismissed ; and the
wo who were retained gave indications of a
letter understanding of the duties they were
equired to perform. Still, much remained to
le done, and Esther found that unless certain
? 1 1 I 1- ?L
asKS were ratten into ner owu imnua, tucj
Fould either be entirely neglected, or accora- t
dished in a way that was scarcely better than l
saving them undone. This troubled Ray- *
aond, who could not bear to see her work, *
,nd he announced his determination to pro- t
ure more competent assistance for her, by
ome means or other, no matter what difficul- 8
ies lay in his way.
"Don't worry yourself about me," she re- *
ained cheerfully. I shall get on very well, i
nd will be less awkward than I am now, when
grow more accustomed to what I have to do." c
"I don't want you to grow accustomed to
t," he replied. "It distresses me to see you r
ngaged in menial offices, and I feel like a 1
irute for having brought you away from lux- v
iry and ease, to toil in this wilderness, just r
or my sake!"
"And what would I not do, Paul, juat for i
our sake? You don't know me, if you imgine
that I mind the trifling work that de- s
olves upon me, or that I would not gladly c
mdertakea thousand times more, rather than *
;ive up the happiness of being what I am." a
"A poor man's wife ! Not a very enviable r
losition, Esther, according to the opinion of t
our New York friends; and especially in suroundings
like these! What would Mrs. e
'em broke say, if she could make a visit of in- t
pection to our little domain ?" v
"She couldn't help saying that it's a lovely v
ilace." said Esther. "The atmosphere and t
he scenery are enchanting?such a refreshing c
ontrast to cramped streets and brick walls, t
,nd the stifling city air! I always had a s
onging to get wings and fly away. It was
nst the sensatinn of a bird in a cage, pining \
or fredoom and space." i
"There is certainly enough of both of those ?
lere to satisfy your utmost longing. But, se-:
iously, dearest, I cannot help accusing ray- c
elf of selfishness in having persuaded you to
nake the exchange ? One comfort is, there 1
i every reason to hope, that at no very disant
day, I shall have the pleasure of laying
,t your feet a fortune that will amply com- 1
tensate you for a few months, or perhaps a j
ew years, of privation and self-sacrifice." j 1
"Let it be ever so many years, I shall not
nind it, Paul, so long as we continue well, J r
,nd can work and hope together. Remem- j i
ler, I have not come here to be a hindrance, j I
?ut a help to you. Besides, I don't care a : v
?iu about money. I think it is very useless j r
rash, compared with other things."
' < ii -? .L i! I 1
Un Hie nay roiiowiog mis conversation, i i
Raymond, who had, as usual, left the house | b
arly iu the morning, rode up to the door, to f
Esther's amazement, with ? young girl on the :
addle behind, whom he assisted to dismount,: g
nd led towards his wife as she stood waiting
0 receive them. ; e
"I have brought you a maid," he said j 1
aughing. "I can't answer for her qualifica- '
ions, but she seems worth a trial. She speaks j f
mt very little English, for one thing; but;
ou can muster up enough Spanish to make ! s
er understand, I dare say, and before long
he will begin to learn English, from hearing y
t constantly spoken." a
"Is she Spauish, then ?" asked Esther.
"Her father was a Spauiard, her mother a t
lexican. I have hired her for you for a c
ery low sum. We are to keep her on trial, fc
nd if she suits you, her old grandmother, j 1
rith whom she has lived for some years past,' f
1 willing to sell her to us for fifty dollars." (
"Sell her!" echoed Esther in horror. "Oh, I s
*aul! are you in earnest ?" a
"Indeed I am. It was her own .proposition, J
nd she was anxious to clinch the bargain at g
nee; but I was not willing for that, and S'
hought it safest to make a trial of her capa- b
ilities first." ' a
"Poor little creature!" said Esther, com- h
assionately regarding the girl, whose large, f
oft dark eyes were fixed earnestly upon her e
ice. "What an unnatural old thing the e
? - Tin i A. ? J!J ^
randmotner must De. vvnereauouis uiu you o
nd her?" !o
"At the old Spanish settlement. They are d
rightfully poor, apparently, and she has n
ome to you with nothing but the clothes on 1 ii
er back." : ii
"And ragged enough they are," said Es- j t
her; "but that is a want I can soon supply." b
Ahen taking the girl's brown hand in hers, n
he said to her in a gentle voice, "Come with I
le." The words were not understood, but t
he tone and manner, and the gesture which j v
ccompanied them, seemed quite intelligible;. c
look of pleasure lit up the girl's face, she ! b
odded and smiled brightly, showing a set of n
/hite, glittering teeth, and followed Esther c
dth alacrity into the house. The first care ti
f the Jatter was to make her bathe herself, h
nd then attire her in some garments selected e
rom her own wardrobe, which, with a little a
Iteration, fit her very well; for although, |
pparently, not more than fourteen or fifteen, j h
nd very slenderly built, she was tall for her c
ge, lacking but a few inches of Esther's own , w
eight, and a couple of tucks hastily run in ti
he skirt of a calico dress soon reduced it to ]
suitable length. By dint of pinning over p
nd belting in, the body was made to answer c
lmost as well; and it was amusing to see the v
hildish delight she manifested in this ar- si
rangement, and the pride with which she regarded
herself In the glass, after her toilet
was completed. Esther was struck by her
beauty, which became more apparant, now
that the charms of neatness set it off. Her
features were delicate and regular, her eyes
wonderful in their sweetness of expression
and depth of color, and when the lids were
cast down, the long dusky lashes almost
wept her cheek. Her hair, which was ravenblack
and very fine, hung in two thick glossy
braids below her wai8t. These, for convenience
sake, Esther bound around her head,
fastened them with a crimson ribbon, which
iet off to advantage the dark but rich color
)f her complexion, and made her look like a
picture of one of the old masters, which had
itepped out of an antique frame. Before
jvening, mistress and maid had struck up a
ast friendship, though unable to give it expression
in words. The one was as eager to
earn as the other to teach, and displayed
luch readiness in following the instructions
jiven her, that Esther felt convinced that she
pad found a treasure in her, and could not be
tufficiently grateful to her husband for havoc
Dicked her ud. In a few days' time she
lad entered completely into the routine which
vas marked out for her, performing each
ask faithfully, zealously, and in order ; and
10 quick was her comprehension, so rapid her
novements.and so lithe and active every turn
>f her pliant hands, that she saved her misress
a world of trouble and anxiety, and
nade her feel as though a burden were lifted
)ff her shoulders, the weight of which she
lad by no means realized until it was renoved.
The one drawback to their mutual
satisfaction?for the girl herself seemed deighted
with her new position?was her ignorance
of English ; and this Esther iramediatey
undertook to remedy by instituting a reguar
course of lessons, independently of the
practical instruction she gave her at all times,
n pointing out to her the names and uses of
sverything around them ; and she was amazed
it the aptness which her scholar displayed, in
nastering both the meaning and the pronunnation
of a language usually so puzzling to
oreigners. On her part, she got Raymond to
jive her instruction in Spanish, with which he
vas well acquainted; so that very soon, by
lint of their mutual efforts, she and her
:harge were able to arrive at a tolerable comjrehension
of each other's meaning, which
>roved an equal gratihcation to them both.
The girl, on arriving, had given her name
is "Chola," or what sounded something like
t. But to Esther it seemed such a queer spallation,
that she fancied it must be a nickmme,
and one day questioned her in regard
o it. Leaving out all broken words, errors in
>ronunciation, and various puzzling mistakes
vith which their attempts at conversation
rere of necessity still replete, a dialogue of
he following nature took place between them :
"Chola," is yours a Spanish name? It
ounds different from any I have ever heard."
"Yes?uo?I think not, Senora. I forget
vhat language it is of. But it is not my whole
lame."
"Ah ! I thought not. What are you really
sailed ?"
"Picciola, Sefiora ; and I used to hear from
ny mother, who is now with the saints in
3eaven, the meaning of the name, when I
vas a very little, young child. But I only
ecollect a part of what she told me."
"And what was that ?" asked Esther, with
nterest.
"My father was cast in prison, Sefiora, for
ome fault?at least, the wicked people aclused
him ; though my mother said he was always
good. She went with him to the prison,
md there I was born. And my father called
ne his little flower, which had sprung up in
he ugly prison walls to cheer his heart."
"Ah ! yes, now I understand," cried Esther,
,Ar?n?.l<T . on/1 oVio mlata/l aa ropll US shftPOllld.
ijr f auu oiiv tviuwu) i> v.. ?? ?... ,
he story of "Picciola," and the poor captive
vho had so tenderly cherished the frail plant,
vhich had forced its way into the light beween
the flag-stones of his prison-yard, the
me companion of his solitude. The girl lisened
with delight, and clapped her hands, as
he exclaimed?
"That is just it, Senora ; I remember it now,
veil. But it is such a long, long while since
uy mother told me, that I had forgotten
ibout it."
"Is it so many years since your mother
lied, Picciola ?"
"Ah! yes, Senora ; I was very small. But
remember her well."
"And your father; he is also dead ?"
"Yes, Senora; I have been an orphan this
ong while."
"And your relations with whom you since
ived?were they kind to you ?"
"Sometimes, but not always. I have been
nany times beaten?see here," and she drew
ip one sleeve, disclosing a scar on her arm.
' have more like that, on my body?but it
vas because I was a wicked girl, my grandnother
said.
nnti. nmr?tVior xrniir nrilv limine re
JLO JUUI ^lauuiuwuv* J VVI. ww mj Q
ation ?" asked Esther, iuwardly pitying the
lardness of the fate which had consigned the
>oor child to such cruel guardianship.
"As far as I know, Sefiora. Am I ever to
;o back to her agaiu ?"
"Not if you wish to stay with me," answer*
d her mistress readily. "Would you like to
ive here always ?"
Picciola seized her hand, and kissed it with
ervor.
"Ah! Sefiora, if you would only let me,"
he cried, with glistening eyes.
"Well, I will let you," replied Esther, "if
'ou will be a good girl, and try to please me,
Iways."
"Oh ! I will be so good. I do not wish ever
o go away from you, Sefiora. I love you so j
ouch. You are more kind to me than anyiody
I ever knew?except ray own mother. !
^.nd now she is dead, there is nobody to care
or me any more."
Esther determined to keep the poor girl, |
ince she was so anxious to remain. She re-1
lly liked her, and felt a deep interest in her,!
rora the few circumstances she was able to .
leau from her iu relation to her past life. It i
eemed to her that Picciola must have been
iorn in a better station than present appear- i
nces would indicate ; and the very fact of
ier parents' knowledge of the historical tale
rom which her name had oeen aenvea, pomid
them out as having been people of some
ducation. The girl herself had nothing
oarse or common about her, either in manuer
r appearance. On the contrary, there was a
legree of refinement which showed itself, ia |
aany ways, in her behaviour, really surpris- j
ug in one taken from such inferior surround- j
ngs as hers had been. Raymond described
he old woman, her grandmother, as a veritaile
hag?dirty, repulsive looking, uncouth in
aanner, and every way unprepossessing ; and 1
Esther suggested that the relationship between
hem might be only a pretended one ; an idea ,
vbich seemed the more reasonable from the j
ircuinstance of the woman being so ready to j
iarter away the child for a paltry sum of!
fioney?though Raymond declared that the j
lass to which she belonged was so degraded,;
hat no conduct, however unnatural, surprised
im in any of its members, provided it result- j
d in the gratification of their ruling passion,
varice.
"I suppose," he said to his wife, after she
ad expressed to him her desire to keep Pic- j
iola, "that I had better go at once to the old
ritch and close the bargain she was so anxious
d make with me from the first."
"I wish you would," rejoined Esther; "and
lease make certain, Paul, that she will never
ome near us, or try to hold any intercourse
nth Picciola when she is once in our posses
_ ff
ion.
"That I can easily arrange," said Raymond,
j "I assure you she was willing enough to get
: rid of her on such favorable terras. I don't
suppose she ever owned fifty dollars in her
I life. Her eyes actually glistened, at the bare
mention of such a sum."
"Did she propose the amount, or you?"
"She did ; but so hesitatingly at first, that it
i was quite evident she was not prepared for my
I compliance with her demand ; and when she
! found that I did not consider it unreasonably
i high, her anxiety to obtain it at once knew no
, bounds."
! "What a horrible creature she must be! I
feel more and more convinced that she is not
I actually related to Picciola, and proportionately
anxious to cancel all claim she has upon
her. Do go, this very day, Paul, and settle
1 the matter beyond dispute."
| "And suppose you repent of the bargain af
j terwards, Esther ?"
j "But why should I?"
"Picciola may disappoint your expectations
| and prove less worthy than you now believe
her to be. Suppose she turns out dishonest,
; vicious, or deceitful. What will you do then,
! with such a burden on your hands?sell her
j off to somebody else
"As if I would ever be guilty of such an
| act!" rejoined Esther in much indignation,
j "You know me better than really to think so.
! But I am not afraid of being disappointed,
j She has been with me now sufficiently long, I
; think, to allow me to form a correct estimate
j of her character. I have always found her
! truthful, affectionate, and most eager to obey
i my slightest wish. Besides, even should she
! be guilty of any fault, no matter how serious,
! I never could make up my mind to send her
back to that dreadful grandmother, after the
way in which she has used her. Oh ! Paul,
if you could see the shocking marks of illA
1 ?* ? ? -'l. I ~U *1?a skUils) kao ck/MTfl/l
, ireailueuk wniuii liic jjuui vuuu uu? duvs..v.v.
rae! You would feel as sorry for her, and
anxious to protect her, as I do."
"Now, Esther, how do you know but that
she has been merely playing upon your sensibility.
Perhaps those marks have come from
j an entirely different cause to the one she as!
signs them to."
i "Don't tease rae so, Paul. I know you
j quite agree with me, though you will not alI
low it."
"Of course I do. Am I not bound to coincide
in your opinions?"
j "I wish you were," said Esther, with a rel
collection of Sefior Alasquez in her mind.
I "At any rate, I know you will do what I wish
j now, and I feel quite sure we shall not repent
of our bargain."
Raymond set off on his appointed errand,
but arrived at the old woman's wretched habitation,
only to find it untenanted. It's occupant
had been removed by death. A neighbor
of hers, a squalid-looking settler, half
Spanish, half Indian, informed him that it
was nearly a week since she had been carried
off by a low fever?that, and the too free use
of alcohol, in which it seemed she had been
accustomed to indulge. "She was a talkin' a
heap about you," said the man, "and was
'raos crazy to see you. She said she had something
particular to tell you about the girl."
"And could you not have come and let me
1 1 t-fc 1 t 1j i
I know 7" responaea rtayraona. 1 wouin nave
come to her if I had known she wished it."
The man shrugged his shoulders. "I had
no beast to ride, and the walk was too far?
but I might have gone if I had been sure I
wouid gat something for my
"Did she leave any message to me, or to her
grandchild ?"
"She left something?a little parcel, which
I was to give you, for a consideration."
"What sort of consideration ?"
"Whatever you might judge reasonble,
stranger. I leave it to you to make an offer."
Disgusted at the man's cupidity, Raymond
answered that he would give him a dollar for
the parcel, whatever it might be.
"I guess not, stranger," was the reply, ac!
corapanied by a cunning look. "I'd rather
1 keep it, than take a dollar for it?I know
! what's inside."
"Show it to me, then," said Raymond impatiently,
"and I will give you whatever it
may be worth."
The man shuffled into his cabin and came
out with a very dirty little paper package,
I which he proceeded to unwrap, while keeping
at a careful distance from Raymond, who re
! iiuuuuu seuicu ujjuu Alio nuiot;.
"See here," he said, holding up a small
| locket, attached to a piece of common string,
i in lieu of a chain. "Ain't that worth five
I dollars, now ?"
"Well, take the five dollars, then, and let
; me have it once."
"All right, stranger; there it is?you see I
I ain't a man to back out from my word."
Long familiarity with the habits of this
! class of individuals, prevented Raymond from
feeling any surprise, as he might have done,
at the avarice which could make capital out
of the commission of a dying person ; and ,
without farther comment, he received and
placed in his pocket the old Spanish woman's
bequest. It might, he thought, afford some
clue to Picciola's real origin; and though he
felt no special interest himself in theTnatter,
he thought it would gratify his wife to have
<mv Hfrlii thrown nnon it.
"AV ~ -r
Esther felt rather relieved, than otherwise,
, at the news of the demise of the "old witch,"
as Raymond called her, as it freed her from
all apprehension concerning any interference
| with her young charge, whom she might now
regard justly as her own property. Picciola,
when the information was imparted to her,
looked serious, but testified no sorrow, as indeed
it was not to expected that she would ;
for it was evident that the bond between her
departed relative and herself had not been of
a sort to awaken any of the finer sensibilities
of her nature, and she was so well pleased in
her new home, that it was no doubt a satisfaction
to her to feel assured that there would
now be no impediment to her remaining
there.
The locket which Raymond brought to his
wife, contained merely a curl of dark hair,
surmounted by the initials "L. A." There
was, at the back, a place for a picture; but the
space was empty, though Picciola averred
that she remembered once seeing a likeness
there, which she thought must have been her
AAtilrl mvA Tin
miner s. niu reuc, iu? it aiuuu, tuum
clue to the girl's history, and Esther, having
attached it to a ribbon, gave it to its rightful
owner to wear as an ornament around her
neck, and ceased to think farther about it.
Some months passed by, peacefully and
happily. Raymond was the most devoted of
husbands, and Esther grew daily fonder of
her beautiful, though lonely valley-home.
Such glowing descriptions did she write to
her relative of its charms, that even Mrs.
Pembroke was somewhat lightened of the
gloomy fears she had indulged in, and Mr.
Pembroke began to think that, after all, he
might have been mistaken in the supposition
with which he had endeavored to cheer his
wife's heart?viz.: that their niece would
soon weary of the barbarism of Western life,
and be pining to return to the enjoyment of
civilized and refined society.
[To be Continued.]
Three Times.?A little fellow who was
at a neighbor's house about noon the other
day, watched the preparations for dinner
with a great deal of interest, but when asked
to stay and eat something, he promptly refused.
"Why, yes, Johnny, you'd better stay,"
said the lady; "why can't you ?"
"Well, 'cause," said the little fellow, "ma
said I mustn't unless you ask me three times."
They invited him twice more right off.