University of South Carolina Libraries
BY'FEATHERSTON & HOYT. ANDERSON COURT HOUSE, S. C., THURSDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 25, 1860. VOLUME 1.?NUMBER 11. ?tohrl aitb lirtets&j Storj. IN PETTICOATS. BY ? MOREST MAN. 'I couldn't think of such K thin et "Butj-ou must, my happiness depends upon it. Here, put on the thingumbobs, aud what'b his name." And my friend, Bob Styles, hcldlup be? fore my hesitant gaze, a suit of female ap phrel. His idea was that I should \per sonato his lady for ono day, to -.prevent ^anybody from suspecting. the truth? namely, that she had joined him in a run? away marriage party?until it should be too later,for interference ; that i?. until the minister should have tied the. knot be? tween them, that nothing but; a special act of the Legislature could untie. This scheme was hot actually so ab? surd as it appeared at first sight." . Maggie Lee was a tall, queenly woman, with al mosfca masculine air; and at that time I had OToryslight form, almost effeminate; so that,-in fact, there was really little dif? ference on that point. Then I had light hair, tolerable long, and fresh complexion. Part my hair in the middle, put my bon? net on my head, and few ladies' would have suspected but what I waff one of their own sex. Those accessories gave quite a decided resemblance to Maggio, Lee, especially when, as in this case, the disguise was her own. Then the day chosen for a runaway Jtnatch was an auspicious one. Maggie's father was to drive to D-,.a small vil? lage noar where she lived, and thoro she was to join a sailing, party down D river, to tho grovo, threo miles below, from which tho party was to return in the evening in carriages. Our plan was, that I should be in wait ing in the village, and should go on the boat with the sailing party, while Maggie, after leaving her father, should slip oft* with Styles across the country. At last I got dressed, and presontcd myself before Maggio Lee, blushing a great deal, I believe, feeling vory much pinched about the waist, and with an un omfortabkreonseiousness that my?shirt leeves were too short, or wanting alto ther. Everything finished in the way of toil Bob Styles took me in his light wagon, ve me over to D-1?? by a secluded tc, and left me at the hotel, where" the H?? Parry wus *? nsseniblo. Several pic-niccrs were already there, and greeted my cavalier, cordially, ask-, he was going with them. He told *v \o was not, I W&mg bnsincsa engagements, you ^V, and all that sort of thing. Deuced S0I\L can't go, though. I had just time *? ^gM?ss Lee over, and now I'm off. ^ \ibj-, this is Miss Lee. Miss AVith cr^Y^s kce;"'and ho rattled off a l?ng %jgv of introductions, Which con vinceiL ^ few of tho fomaics werc acquaint yfita tno y0ftUng ].M\y j was person^?a yery fortunate thing for the pi;e.hation of my d^guisc. s Mr. B\y?a tjril, legal looking man, with &MuOS0'.imi eye-glasses, seemed to be-pre^essed with me, and I over? heard lmnVjsper t0 Bob Styles, as he ? wei>t qut: Wico looking gal, that Miss Lee/ \. ? ' , "Tes> \auVed ljob, with a mischiev? ous glance ;W ?S\XQ \s a njco givi? ? though .a Lp ??? go-ahead sometimes. Keep a look ^on j,cr.? then lower? ing Thjs voice!\t % bad match for you. oldYellqw;^^? ? ? - '-Is she?'*J#iij:m^y) i,j? jjrterest.decp .ening:. *, \ *. * ';Pn myj^ioWe^ied Bob. ."Forty thousand dollurstlcr.?wn right. Day ! dayJ" and hc_wa\,ne Maggie, ?rtful Uure that she was, had told/her fitfheLt the sailing party was ta* assemble inother hotel, and thither he had takeL. Having busi? ness in Bi-^, ho %er ti10r0} mercly saying that.Yvo woucLd the carriage; after her *t "twelvej)'^t she, like a dutiful daughter, ^se\ him, bid him good-bye, aMbeforAe via(^gone a hnn. . dred yjirds,.: took a^t in Bob Stvle8? light-wagon, which bWiveV;up to the back .door, as old *\ oarage drove away froni the front Y As for us of the ic-nic\vC43ionj we ; had a pleasant sail >wn to\^ ^yo, but somehow I could n; enjoy itL ag I*gght to have ;dje. WhenY ^ked o^K?ard the boat | felt awkwaV^ a9 if ?^?rybody was logng at me. '^oun(i |My/BmTby, as I W expected, a\unfr Sl^nd^'ising lawyer.Hc insisted on\,? "lisg for my ticket jdj?fehasing enoiL ojang^, pears n'^Puies to set up\ 'street stand! F(&>r five times I was or the point %{ swfcng at His impudent ? officiousness, bi^* in>" ^fe^esjust in 'time to prevent0-^085*0- -^^yt was nbi[with him that I found my roU tH .hattest,to play. m the young ladies were the hardest onest? deceive. For instance, there was one ardmg them, a beautiful girl of sev enteenAjust returned from boarding school, vtfio had not seen Maggie Lee for threo yeqer. Of coarse she was delighted with me \vbon she found out that I was Maggie, wlW by the way, did not occur until we had\Wted. She threw herself | into my arms,\ul{ed my veil aside, and kissed me half Adozen times, 'in a man? ner that made luVfhiger ends tingle for half an hour, lyW aU very nice; but if I had been pru^-ty persona; I should as though I fals>: might issue a have liked it betteA As it was, I felt was "oMuning goods under colors," and tW Lawyer Bimby warrantor my arrest on that ground at any monfont. A whole knot Of criadiuo then sur rounded mo on the uppcVdcck of the boai;; to the utter exclusion and eonsc cment disgust of Mr. Bimbi and other gentlemen. \ The river breeze was very n^sh where we sat, and I noticed that scve\? of the ladies wore glancing uneasily a\ me. I couldn't divine the reason nntilVennic, my little- friend from boarding vhool, laid her face dangerously close to\iine, md whispered: ?3iy (Teai* Maggie, your dress is bW. iug .up terribly high?your ancles wilLc the town talk with -t hegen tlemcu." \ Now I was conscious of having a veti small foot for a man, and had donrieid ; pair of openwork stockings which cnmc\ nearly to my waist, with a pair'of gait? ers borrowed from the servant girl, in all jf which toggery my running gear look ing 'iptlte respectable; but the idea of gditTeinen talking, about my ancles and of btinglcautioned thus by a young girl, who w?hld have been frightened to death if I had told her the same thing yester? day, was too much for mo, and I burst, in? to a sortiof strangled laugli, which I could only Chcpk by swallowing half of nn filigree handkerchief. The young ladies loqko d afhnc in apparent astonishment, and I waited to laugh all the more. For tunal;ely..Ir. Bimby came to my rescue at the ijomont, and edged himself in amomg thl crinoline. "May Ijit here?" he asked pointing to a low stoo near me. "Certair y," I simpered in my high falsetto. "Ah, tli? tk you," said Bimby?with a lackaduisic 1 air. which nauseated roe as coming fix i man to another?"you are arc fascinating." er me "Ii' no iileed, praise of you cannot be flattery, Ml> Lee." "An, sir,|ou are very naughty,'-'^j>aid I, in the mdt fcmi.iiuc tone I could ccm mand. lie cast akiugnishing glance at me, and I fairly begi to feel for his feelings. "We soonnrrived at the grove, and found our |nd?engaged beforehand? awaiting us.jOf course dancing was the first amuscniit, and Lawyer Bimby led mc out for Ischottischc. It was hard, but I soon gl accustomed to it. When a waltz was joposcd, I resolved to have a little amus^icnt at tho expense of the u n fort u n a to. luiby. Iliad first lade hinvproperly jealous, by dancing iv;h two or-three young fel? lows, one oHhom I knew in my own character, b$ who ne\ei suspected me as Maggie Lee.j This yotnr man is a great woman-kille}?a sort d* easy, devil-may care rascal, a|Iio made he ladies run after him by his alternate varmth of action and coolness If prosecujon; him I selec? ted to play of, against iy legal admi rer. I allowed himjto hold ic very close!)', and occasionaMy looked* t him with a half fascinating cxprcsW When we kind as yo "You fla st uped danciig lie led he to my goat, keeping his am tightly nnd my waist, and I permitted it. Havtr thus stirred Jiimby unto feats of wilful valor, 1 asked one of ths gcntlemefto direct the musicians to piny a walta. Bimby came immediately. . \ "Ahem?a?Miss Lee, eld I have the honor of?a?trying a walti-ith you ?" I smiled a gracious acquWnce, and we commenced. Now, I ami old stager at waltzing; I can keep it uingCr. than any non-professional dancer, hie or fe? male, that I ever met. As ^g as the Sehonuebrunn rings in my oau can go on, if it is for a year. Not soiraby; he .pleaded want of practice, and ljicknowl odged that he soon got dhsj "Aha, old boy," thought I, "I'll give i a turn, then." But I only smiled, aud^id that I should get tired first. "Oh, yes," he exclaimed, "of Lrsej I can waltz as long as any one yol lady; ibut not much longer." V For three minutes my chcvar ^ w\M. He went smoothly andLnry . butSt the expiration of that timle De! gan to grow warmi Five minutes elapsed, and Bimby's breath came harder and faster. On we went, however, and I scorned to notice his slackening up at. every round as wo passed my seat. After some ten or twelve minutes, the wretch? ed man gasped out between his steps: "Ah?a?are fjm not get?getting tired?" "Oh, no," I burst forth, as coolly as if we were riding round the room. "Oh, no; I feel as if I could waltz all night." The look of despair that ho gave was terrible to see. I'was bound to see him out, however, and we kept at it. Bimby staggered and made wild steps in all di? rections. His collar wilted, his 03-08 ppr truded. his jaws hung down, and altogeth? er, I saw he could not hold out much lon? ger "This is delightful," I said, composedly, "and you, Mr. Bimby, do waltz so easily!" " Ah, puff?puff?yes?oh?puff?very delightful," gasped he. "l)on't you think we ought to go a lit? tle faster V He rolled his eyes heavenward in ago ony. So when we neared the musicians, I said "Faster, if you please ;" and they played a la whirlwind. Poor Bimby threw his feet about like a fast pacer, and revolved after the manner of a teetotum that was nearly run down. At last he staggered a step backwards, and spinning eccentrically away from me, pitched head? long into a.bevy of ladies in a corner. I turned round coolly, and walking to my scat, sent the young woman-killer for a large glass of ice water. The miserable lawyer recovered his sen? ses just in time tb see me tliank his rival \r the glass of .water. I got. some idea fftm this of the fun young ladies find in to\nunting us prior fellows of the other scx\ At this juncture, and before Mr. Bimbyhad time to apologize, for his acci? dent, li.Oc Jennie came miming Into the room- j\s she came near me I perceived that Ifer hands clutched closely in her dress, And positively shuddered as she whisper^ to me, " Oh Maggie, come and help mo^x my skirts?they arc coming down!" I said Hwas tired; " could not some? body else ;u ? " "iso. notiing would do but I must ac? company (er to the house of a gentleman who owne\ the grove, and assist her to arrange he\ clothing. So I went. What if it shouldbe necessary to undress the greater pai\ of her raiment? What if, in tho miUsrbf all the cmharrassment ot being closetel with a beautiful girl of sev? enteen, in a s\itc of 'comparative freedom from drapeiyjmy real sex and identity should be discovered by her? I felt as if an apoplectic ft would be a fortunate oc? currence to ify just then. However, I nerved myself Vor the task, and accom? panied Jennie ,0 the house designated. An old huh' shaved us into her chamber, and Jennie heavng a sigh of relief, let go her dress. As sie did so, a?pardon my blushes?a petticoat fell to the lloor. She was about to proved, but I alarmed her by a sudden and \yhcment gesture. " Stop !" I cried frantically, forgetting my falsetto; " Doi't undress, for God's sake!" " And why not ? \ " Because 1 am?ein you keep a secret?" " Why. yes. Howrtfghtened you look. Why, what's the matter ??Maggfc?you ?you?why?oh ! oh! oh ! " ' And she gave three fearful screens. " Hush; no noise, orT am lost." I ex? claimed, putting niy haul over her mouth; ?; I mean you no harm." So was all of a tremble. >>oor little thing, but she saw the force of ny argument. " Oh. sir," she said. " I see you are a man, but what does it all mean? Why did you dress so? " \ I told her the whole story as briefly as possible, and exacted fron her a promise of tho most sacred secrcsy I then went out of the door and awaited till she had arranged her dress, when she called me in again and we had a long talk, which ended in a mutual feeling of friendliness and old acquaintanceship quite wonderful for peo? ple meeting for the first time. Justus we started to go back to the pavilion, 1 said I must relieve my mind of one more bur? den. " And what is that ? " she asked. "Those kisses. You thought I was Maggie Lee, or you would not have given them. They were very sweet, but I sup? pose I must give them back." And I did. She blushed a good deal, but she didn't resist nie, only when I got through she looked timidly up and said: ' I think you are real knaughty, anyhow.' When wo returned we found Lawyer Bimby quite recovered from his dizziness, and all hands ready for supper, which was served up in the ball room. I sat between Bimby and Jennie, and made love to both of them in turn?to one as Maggie Lee, to the other as myself. After supper, at which I astonished several by eating rather more heartily than young ladies generally do, -we had more dancing, and I hinted pretTty strongly to Mr. Bimby that that I should like to try another waltz. Heilidn't take the hint,. Pindingitrather dry amusement to dance with my own kind, I soon abandoned that pleasure, and persuaded Jennie to stroll off, into the moonlight with me. "We found the grove a charming place, full of picturesque little corners and rustic seats." and grey rocks leaning out over the river. On one of these latter, a little bench was placed in a nook sheltered from the wind and from any sighu. Here we sat down inytho full: flood of moonlight, and having just had dinner, I felt wonderfully in need- of a' cigar. Ac? cordingly, I went bade to a little stand near the ball room and purchased several of the wonderful woman.that sold refresh? ments. .Then returning to the seat by the rocks, I gave up all cares of fears of my jneognitO', and revellech; in the pleasures of. solitude, the fragrance of my cigar, the moonlight and little Jennie's presence. llow long wo sat there, Heaven alone knows. We laughed and talked and sang, looked in each other's eyes,and told for? tunes and did all the nonsensical opera? tions cotr.mon"amongst young people just falling in love with each other, and might have remained there until the month of November, in the year, of our Lord eigh? teen fifty-seven, for aught I kuowr had not carriages been sent to convey us home, and tbe rest of the company began to think where we had gone. At length they hit upon the path, and nil came along single file until they camo to the open space above. Then they saw a sight! I was spread cut in a free and easy position, my bonnet taken off; and my hair somewhat towzled up. One foot rested on the ground, and the other on at, rock about level with my head, (regard? less of ankles that time,) and there I sat puffing away in a very lady-like style, at a light flavored Concho. Jennie was sit? ting clos?i beside me, with her head almost upon -my shoulder, and her small waist al? most enci rcled by my arm. J ust as the party came along above, I laughed out in a loud masculine voice. "Just:think of poor what's his name there?Bimb}*! Suppose he knew ho had been making love to a man \ " " Hush!" cried Jennie. " Look!?there ho is! oh! 1113* gracious! there is the whole company!" Yes, we were fairly caught. .It was of no use foir me to clap on my bonnet, and asHume fidsotto again?they had all seen too much for that; Besides, by this time Bob Styles and Maggie Lee were doubt? less " on 2 flesh," and my disguise was of no importance, so I owned up and told the story. Lawyer Bimby was in a rage; he vowed to kill mo, and even squared off; but the rest of the company laughed at him so unmercifully, and suggested that we should waltz it out together, that he final? ly cooled down, and slunk away to take some private conveyance back to D-. Bob Styles and I arc, living in a large double house together. He often says ho owes his wife to my masquerading, but he doesn't feel under any obligations to me, for I owe my wife to the same thing! N. B.?My wife's name is Jennie. ? -?* Woman.?Perhaps a more just and beautiful compliment was never paid to woman than the following, by Judge Story. "To tli e honor, to the eternal honor of the sex. he it said, that in the path of du? ty no sacrifice with them is too high or too dear. Nothing with them is impossi? ble, but to think from what love, honor, innocence, and religion require. The voice of pleasure or of power may pass unheeded?but the voice of affliction nev? er. The chamber of the sick, the pillow of the dying, the vigils of the dead, the altars of religion, never missed the pres? ence or the sympathies of woman. Timid thought she be, and so delicate that the winds of Heaven may oft too roughly visit her, on such occasions she loses all sense of danger, and assumes a preternatural courage, which knows not, fears not consequences.'-Then she displays that undaunted spirit which neither courts difficulties or evades them; that resigna? tion which neither murmurs or regrets; and patience in suffering which socms vic? torious over death itself. * -?, Imperfectness in Good Men.?Exam? ples ought never to pass for laws. Men are too subject to infirmities to serve for copies for others to follow. In the great? est virtues there will be eternally some mixture of imperfection, and a man is in danger of taking his example from the blind side he discovers. -But reason and justioe can never mislead him, -? Slanders, issuing from red and beautiful lips, are like foul spiders crawling from the blushing heart of a rose. ? " - *' Selected |jffdrjr. Happiness. ftrtteJiappm'esi is always'iieaf,. Although so seldom found; Enough of good the heart to cheer Doth everywhere abound? And if we only reason Tight, Our ceres and sorrows all are light; What though a cloud je on the ?ky, Or hides the aim's bright beams; 1 'Tis but a shadow passing by Through which the light still gie?rirt*? Shadows and clouds soon pas/away, And leave a fair and pleasant day. Bo with the transient pains of life That often rend our hearts,' And makes this world a scene of strife That scarce a joy imparts? Our trials, rightly understood, , Are ever sent us fur. our goud. ?We oft destroy our peace and joy, And spoil our best repose', When vexing cares our minds employ, Or vain, fictitious woe?? Wo mourn in sorrow and distr^s, When we might share true happiness. True happiness is everywhere, And every leaf and flower That bcautiiies this earth so fair, Seems to possess a power To make the human heart more blest, And give the troubled spirit rest*. There's happiness enough on earth For all its woes and pains ; And he who gave our spirits birth, Ne'er placed us hero in vain, But gave us hearts to love and bless The source of all true happiness, i-<> ITow to do Good.?A quaint writer gives a short and easy method of doing good, which will be as effectual as could . be adopted. He says "Why do you bo gin to do good so far off ? This is a Till? ing error. If you do not love your' wife, do not pretend to such lovo for tho people of the antipodes. If you let some family grudge, some pocadillo, somo undesirable gesture, sour your visage towards a sister or a daugter, pray cease t? preach bene? ficence on a large scale. Begin not next door, but wjj?iin your ^own door, with your ncxT. neighbor, whether relative, ser? vant or superior. Account the man you" meet, the man you are to bless. Give him such things as you have.Tf.'HowJcan I mako him or her happier ??This is the question. If advice will do it, give ad? vice. If chastisement will do it, give chastisement. If a look, a smilo, or warm. pressure of the^hand^or tear will do it, give tho look, smile, hand or tear. But never forget the happiness of our world is a mountain of golden sands,randTthat it is your part to cast some contributary atom every moment. ? There is as much phi? losophy and sound morality, beautifully expressed in these few words as there is in a volume of sermons. Let every- one practice the rule laid down, and see how soon the opportunities for doing good will present themselves?how. much more sat? isfaction he will feel in himself?how much better he will be satisfied with tlw world and tho world with him. The common duties of life are those which are most of? ten passed over with inattention; and yet tho whole happiness of our lives, and those connected with us, depend i essen? tially upon their performance. They show the true temper of our virtue, and as i:hey are well or badly performed, pro? mote orxlestroy that peace or perfect sat? isfaction of mind in which true happiness consists. -+ Life.?Men rejoice when the sun is ris? en, they rejoice iiftb* when it goes down, while they are unconscious of the decay of their own lives. Men rejoice on seeing the face of a new season, as at the arrival of one greatly desired. ^Nevertheless, the revolution of seasons is the decay of hu? man life. Fragments-of drift-wood meet? ing in the wide ocean, continue together a little space; thuafcparents, wives, chil? dren, relatives, friends and riches, remain with us for a short time?then separate, and the searation is inevitable. No mor? tal cart escape the common lot; he who mourns for departed relatives has no pow? er to cause them to return. One stand? ing on the road would readily say to a number of persons passing by, I will fol? low you. Why, then, should a person grieve' when journeying the same road, which has been assuredly trodden by all his forefathers ? Life resembles a cataract rushing down with itTesistable impetuosi? ty. Knowing the end of life is death, ev? er}' right-minded man ought to pursue that which ? counected with ultimate blius. -<?-? "SVeath is not acquirod, as many persons suppose, by fortunate speculations and splendid enterprises, but by the daily practice of industry, frugality and econo? my. Ho who relies upon these means will rarely be found desitnte, and whoso? ever relies upon any other will generally beoome bankrupt. The Bream of Life. "We extract the following pleasing pas? sage from "The J)ream of Life," by Ike Marvel. Bickens, in his happiest vein, never wrote anything better: Benedict the Married Man.?"You grow unusually amiable and kind; you are ear? nest in your search Of friends; you shake hands with your office boy as if he were, your second cousin. You joke cheerfully, with the stout washer-woman; and give ber a shilling over change, and insist upon herkeeping.it; and grow- quite, fuerry at the. recollection of it. You tap your hackman on the shoulder very familiarly^ and tell him he is a capital fellow, and don't allow lum to whip his horses, except when^ driving to the Post-office. You even ask him to take a glass of beer with you upon some chilly evening. You drink to the health of his wife?where? upon you think him a very miserable man, and give him a dollar by way of consolation. "You think all the editorials m the morning "papers arc remarkably well writ? ten?whether.upon.your side or upon the other. You wonder why you never ad? mired Mrs. Hemans before, or Stoddard, or any of the rest. M " You give a pleasant curl to your fin? gers, as you saunter along the street.' and say?but not so loud as to be over? heard?'She is mine?she is mine!' "You Avouder if Frank ever-loved Nel? lie one half as well as you love Madge. You feel quite sure he ne'vef did. Yqn can hardly conceive how it is, that Madge has not been seized before now by score?, of enamored men, and borne off, like the Sabine women in Bomish history. Yon chuckle over your future, like a boy who has found a guinea in groping for sixpen?' cos. You read over the marriage, ser? vice?thinking of the time when> you Avill take her hand, and slip the ring up? on her finger, and repeat after the clergy man?'for richer?for pooror; for bet? ter?for Avorse!' A great deal of *wors^ - there will be about it you think I "Through all, your heart cleaves to that SAveet imrfgeof the beloved Madge, as light deaveirto dayr- Sh?jvceks leap with a bound; and the months only., grow long when you approach that day which is -tg^ make her yours. There are1 no flowers rare enough to'make boquets for her, dia? monds are too dim for her to wear; pearls are tame. "-And after marriage, the Avceks are even shorter than before. You won? der why on earth all the single men in the world do not rush tumultuously to the altar; you look upon, them all, as a travelled man will look upon some, con? ceited Dutch boor, Avho has never been beyond the limits of his cabbage garden. Married men, Oti. the contrary, you re? gard as felloAV voyagers; and look upon their AvivcB^ugly as they maybe, as bet? ter than nohU "You blush a little at first telling your butcher what 'your wife' would like; yon bargain Avith the grocer" for sugars and teas, and Avonder if he knows that you are a married man. You practice your new A\-ay of talk upon your office boy; you tell him that 'your" Avife' expects you home to dinner; and are astoniskeel that he does not stare to hear you say it! ? "You wonderif the people in the omni? bus know that Madge and you are just married; and if the driver knoAVS that the shilling you hand to him is for 'self and Avife!' You Avonder if anybody was ever so happy before, or ever will be so happy again! "You enter your name upon the Hotel books as 'Clarence-an^d Lady,J|0pnd come back to look at it?Avondering;^. anybody else has noticed it?and think? ing that it looks remarkably well. You cannot help thinking that cvory - third man you meet in the hall, wishes he pos? sessed your Avife?nor do you think.it very sinful in him to Avish it. You fear it is placing temptation in the way of covet? ous men, to put Madge's little gaiters out? side the chamber-door at night/ "Your home, when it is entered, is just what it should be: quiet, small, with ev? ery thing she Avishes, and nothing more tiian she wishes. The sun strikes it in the happiest possible way; the piano is the SAveetcst toned in the world; the li? brary is stocked to a charm, and Madge, that blessed AA-ife, is there, adorning and giving life to it all. To think, even^pf her possible death, is a suffering you class Avith thejmferoal tortures of the inquisi? tion. You grow tAvain of heart and of purpose. Smiles seem made for marriage; and you wonder how you ever.wore them before." -0 The Bank of England uses in her jw counts no less than 60 folio ledfl""^ fiUod up completely every dar- 28,000 bank notes are thrown ^'dail7? ?& all so reg* istered that. ^ abstraction of a single nof ? ? ^aowed by immediate detection'.