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wp ...'.."?.'?.'"'.".l,<."W,1.'<,1'il|..,-i,|.|,.l,,'|.M,,'|.<'|,'l.l'>1i|,>l,,'1,|l|,M ,ii4i.,....."H.M.,...>..?M..M.......H.M......n.-..ft.?......H.M.,n...... .?'..?..n.H.?.......?.....?n-....' ...'.> . ... EDaEIIELD, SrC, (FEBRUARY 26, 1868. . \ imsm**.*. D?R?SOE, KEESE & ?0. PUBLISHED EVEBY WEDNESDAY MORNING BT DUEISOE, KEE?E & CO. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. The ADVERTISER is published regularly every WEDXKSDAY MORNING, at THREE DOL LARS per annum; ONE DOLLAR and FIFTY CENTS, for Six Months; SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS for Three Month?,-alieays in advance. Z3T All papers discontinued at thc expiration of tho time foi which they have boen paid. RATES. OF ADVERTISING. PAYABLE IN ADVANCE. Advertisements will be inserted at tho rate of ONE DOLLAR and FIFTY CENTS per Square (10 Minion lines or less,) for the first insertion, and ONE DOLLAR for each subsequent insertion. A liberal discount will be made to these wishing to advertise by the year.. 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" Upon her face thoro was tho tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of tho eye, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears." " What do you see, Rachel !" murmured a low, sweet voice ; "you have been looking that way very earnestly for the last, ten minutes." The speaker, a woman apparently on the sunny side of forty, was an Elder Sister in the Society ol Shakers. She wore the cos tume peculiar to the females of that sect, a plain, homespun dress, which, though it lent no flowing grace of outliue to her figure, was faultlessly neat; a pair of cumbrous, high heeled, cloth shoes, that, despite their qnairn and uncouth fashion, could not quite conceal the shapely feet they encased, and an ample kerchief, white as new-fallen snow, smoothly folded over her breast, while her face gleamed out pale and passionless from the transparent border of the close little cap, which left emly a narrow band of brown hair visible abuve her low, fair brow. . She was sitting in the best room of thc Trustees' office of-the u Church Family," and busily plying her needle, but as she asked this question, she glided with the characteristic Shaker step to thc window where Rachel Lee sat. " What is it-any grand visitors coming V she said, leaning over Rachel's chair to look out. <: Nay, not that, by any meaDS," replied the other ; " I rather think they're some poor folks with ivyrleavcs to seil."' Mary Reed stood gazing forth for some min utes. . At thc foot of thc bold and beautiful Canterbury Hill, crowned by the Shaker Vil lage, five roads, winding up through field, aud meadow, and woodland, with many a sinuous curve, intersect each other, and at the place where they meet, there is a huge granite ba sin, filled to the brim with water, bubbling with a perpetual How and a pleasant, dreamy murmur, from some never-failing spring. That fair fountain of the hills-how vividly it rises in memory now-clear as crystal, cool er than Oriental sherbet, more delicious ??d life-giviug than the richest blood of the grape, or thc mythic nectar of the gods. The cattle, as they come lowing down from the far green pastures at eventide, drink there long, eager ly; the pauling horse of the traveller slakes his thirst in that pure tide, and thc tired and foot-sore vagabond etops there for a refresh ing draught. On tho brink of this gray basin crouched the two pt-rsous who had attracted tho alter1 tion of the quiet Shaker Msters, but'some thing called them away, and they thought n:> more about the incident that afternoon. It was a chill, drizz:y day in spring ; the young leaves shivered in the keen north-east wind, the teuder bludes of grass bent aud swayed under their burden of raia drops, and not a single break in the clyudsgave a glimpse of'bluc ether or golden sunshine. N^ghi closed drearily in, and the glow of thc vii!;I?:?. lights shone invitingly tbivugh the gloom, bu; still the two strangers lingered by the well. The younger, a girt of twelve summers, per haps, seemed restless ; she often dipped up thc water in her palm and dashed it over her forehead, or pressed tbe cold, damp hand against it with a wild gesture ; but the elder, a tall, thin, shadowy woman, sat with a strange, unnatural stoicism, gazi*g mute and tearless on the dim woods behind, the inani mate finger of the guide-post, and tho small Shaker settlement on the hill. " Mother, mother," cried the girl, petulant ly, " don't stay here any longer I lt is very dark, aud 1 am so tired, so cold !:' Twenty times she had said the same thing, but it seeir.ed as if thc woman were deaf as well as dumb, for the great palsy of grief had locked all lu-r senses. Now, however, thc looked ' round like one awaking from a nightmare. . "Oh, Bessie, my child," ?bemurmured, " I had forgotten even yuu ! We cannot stay ; here, we must go on !" She seized the girl'.* haod in a vice-like grasp, and tha two toiled wearily up the hill. Summoning all the strength of which she was mistress, the wo- ' man rapped at the first door of the Trustees' office. It was Mary Peed who opened it, and 1 stood looking in wonder at the strangers, with 1 the light of the Car.dle in her hand shining full upon them. Such a face as that of I he 1 woman, the Shaker sister had never before j seen ; thin and wau even to ghastliness, with : deep lines furrowiug the high, pale brow, and lips tremulous from some hiddeu pain, parched aud discolored with the secret canker ' gnawing into the heavy heart beneath, and grett, dark eyes full of a wild, uncertain light. " Is this a hotel where I can stop till morn ing, at least?"' >he asked, wistfully. " Oh, nay !" said Mary Reed ; ""there's one ' two miles beyond, at Hill's Corner." "Two miles V echoed the woman. "Good j God ! I should die before I could get lhere! I heard ibis was tho Shaker Village." " Yea, so it is," replied Mary; " but if you ' knew our customs you would be aware Us?t 1 we don't keep tavern." " I an: a stranger in a strange laud." fal tered the woman ; "a refugee from a'home darker than any graveyard. They told me people who were wrecked in hope, faith, for tune, everytkiug, sometimes came here ! Will : you take me in ?" " Yea," said Mary Reed, thoughtfully, "we will feed and lodge you lo-night." .' I don't want food or alm9 of any kind ! I'm not a beggar-I'm a broken-hearted wo man ! I'm wretched, forlorn, weary-weary in body and ia soul ! I want rest!" She spoke wildly, and Mary Reed drew her and tho, child into thc house, and shutrir.3 tho door, led them into the room where she aud Rachel Lee were sitting, when we first intro duced them to the reader. The woman sank listlessly into a chair, and closed h*?r eyes as if in extreme exhaustion, but the child stared around in girlish wonder. Very strange di J that apartment seem to ihe city bred child ; no rich paper covered the wails ; no damask drapery sweeping down from elaborate cor nice work, muffled the windows; no soft Ad minister spread out beneath her feet ; no pol ished grate and marble hearth glowed warm and red in the light of the blaz-.ng Lehigh. but there was not a single slain on tho white-washed ceiling ; thc pa nted floor shone like a mirror, *ave where, roui.d tho close box stove, lay a homespun carpet of sombre hues; plain chairs stood here aud there, and . beside each of the three windows was a pe culiar kind of sewing-.* taud, furnished with spool-frames, pin cushions, scissors, and all the paraphernalia needed by a seamstress. While the child wns fcazing on thia novel scene, Mary Reed had glided from the room, but ehe soon came back with a glass of cur rant wine in her hand. " Drink this," she said to the weary strang er ; " it may revive you." The woman drank it mechanically, but thc draught did not seem to refresh her urmlj ; 1 her eyelids still drooped over tho troubled j orbs beneath, and her head rested languidly j against her chair. " Your clothes aro wet," continued Mary, after a brief pause; " hadn't you better tako them off?" I have not a change of clothing within a hundred miles," exclaimed tho stranger. " I did not think of such thing.', when 1 started j -fliglU was my only thought." " If you wouldn't mind putting on some of | onr clothes," suggested Mary Reed, " you ! would be more, comfortable." j *? Ohj no 1" replied tho womaD, and Mary soon brought garments from her own mutt- < ! tob*, eni began to remove tbe drenched soiled c:!"??.:;.g pf heir guest As she iaid aside the close and simple b a luxuriuuco ol' long, black, wavy hair bi loose from a golden comb, and swept in hevcllcd masses around her face and sho ers. When she drew off the coarse, ^ mittens, a pair of small bauds were revea which, though they were so wasted that t looked like birds'claws, blazed with jewi and on flinging back the cheap cloak wi fell in heavy folds to her feet, Marj' Reed a silken robe almost thick enough to sup] its own weight, and lace of theiiuost text fastened about her thin neck with a diam brooch. " Friend." said Mary, while hei grey e dilated with astonishment, "I wandert you came to wear these things on sich aj< ney.as yours-I mean thal nico dress and ornaments." The woman started, and with a strong fort replied :- . . " I will tell you. For months I have lon, to flee from a place which once seeme Paradise, but,-but-': and now a pail Hush sh-.t into her haggard cheek-"th were many obstacles iu my way. When hour did eenie. 1 had no time to lose ; I co only stop' to put on thai old hood and clo ano change my child's costume. Rut, thu God, 1 am here safe-sate-safe-for a lil while in spite of all his vigilance," Ag her face giew deadly pale, and her ?macia frame shook from head to foot. " Have you walked far to-day ?" asked t Shakeress. r . "No-only from Concord; but that ii great distance 1er me. 1 am very feeble, you see, and could nc7tr have rer.ched li place, had not an uunatiiral energy spurr me on." " We rode three or four miles with soi kind man, wno thought we looked tired a taint," interposed the girl. " " Ob, y"s." said her mother, " I rememl now; that was a wonderful help to us. Then she added, as she found herself arrayed ir Shaker garb, ,!I begin lo breathe more frc ly;" and she drew a long sigh of relief, ai looking down at the pile of wet and crump! finery un the floor, she murmured, dreami -" lt is well to discard these garments; bought ilium ; I have worn them in his hom they have been"to me of late like the rou; rubes which the Catholic devotee weais at; penance. I have put them off forever." "Oh, mot?er!" cried the girl, teats wounded pride springing to her eyes ; " y< don't, you cau't mean what you say! Y< will not keep that horrid, old-fashioned gov and these b-g K?OCS !" "B-ssic," murmured thc woman, "I cou .-carce!) have a belter disguise ; your got nuise herself would b"! puzzled to teeogni: mc now. Besides, I shall never care for sui trilles again ; they do not befit a poor wand rcr, a wretched refugee." As sho spoke, si held out her pair; hands, and the rings whic had decorated them, slipped Irum ber bon lingers and tell upou the heap of discard t clothing. But one. a slender circlet, set wil pearls, she picked up uud turned round ar round ?2 a kind of mournful abstraction. " Stranger/' she at length murmured, in husky tone. " I have bien thinking how giv how light-hearted 1 wa?; when I first Wui that ring. It was the sea! of promises whic made me very happy, but he who uttcre them is tulse. His vuws have been cruel! broken : his neglect hos almost crushed m .i?o out. lt uickc: . me IO louk on the bau'ol and remember ail. Take it away with tb c asi off i aiment ! I never want to see : more." Her eyes burned with a lustre pair fd tu behold, her features worked convulsive ly, and her flight figure swayed to and fr like a reed. The Shakeress did not speak fur some mc meets, Lat quietly brought dry garments fi the giri, ana assisted her in putting them or Bessie, however, looked at her new gear wit :i derisive smile, and would have expresse her contempt in plain terms, had it aut Le?: for her moi lier's woe begone face. Mar; Meed did Hut appear tu notice her scorn, bu turning tO the Wi man, Uie said : " I think it must have been you and you ;hild that 1 suv down at the watering-plac lbout five o'clock." '. l'.s, I presume su.:' replied thc stranger rallying again ; " we were there two hours o [uorc." '.And why didn't you hurry on befon lark ?" qtieii d Mary : " it was rash for om so delicate a^ you to expose yourself to sud x cold storm." " Grief has made nie reckless," faltered tin Wi mau ; " 1 do nut set so much value on lili vs 1 once did. But I have a stronger reasu m?an this tor bilgering lhere. Whey I reachei thal loimlaiu, and the asylum 1 had sough was within a stone's throw, my butden die uot ruii off liku Bunyan's Pilgrim's at tin lout of thc cross ; it settled upuu mo a thou <audlbld more heavily than ever. My super natural strength seemed to leave me. ] thought ol :i!l 1 had forsake ti-oldenmemo rios rolled over me-the future stretched ou Jul!, and blank, au ! hopeless-Oh 1 .1 passet i.!;to:ig!i a great triai-1 lived an age iu those ll-etin^ hours ! 1 mi-iit have died there, hac uot Bttsie ut last cal'i-d me back lo conscl Dueness " We will not talk aoy more about youi troubles to-iight," inte nosed Mary; we shuil have lime enough lor that when you are able to speak calmly. You have had no sup pi r, I suppose, and the little girl must be hun gry, if you are not. Come with me and take tl bil of something to tat." Thc stranger* rose and followed Mary, Reed to a neat lining-room iu thc basement. Very inviting was thc Shaker lunch lhere prepared foi them. Thu nicest of broad and batter, a slice of rich cheese, a plaie of sponge cake, delicious cuslr.rds, aad thu rare luxury of thc hills, maple.honey, formed a meal which might have templed au anchorite ; but the woman o:.ly sipped the tea which Mary poured .steaming and fragrant into the cup. Bessie, however, ate wiih a keen relish, and forget ting her quaint garments for a time, praised the food with acbild:s enthusiasm. Tho nine o'clock bell rang as Mary conducted her guests back to thc apartment they had en tered at first. "Ilia our bed-time," she said; "aud I think you arc both tired enough to need rest, I will show you your sleeping room now;" tmd she led (he way to a cosy little clamber. "Oh! mother," exclaimed the girl, "how strange everything seems, i:ow different from our own home I See, what a coarse strip ol carpet that is-no better than our servants have, and nut at all like the beautiful one in my room, willi its roses, and lilies, and vio let.'- ! AP(1 then the bcd-how I wish I could chatte il for my pretty French bed, it is such bli odd-lookiug thing. Ob ! dear, I long to be back io the city again. I want to see papa, and Wallace, and Susen Morton, ray good old nurse! I never can be contented here ! Don't stay, mother, dogo homo to-morrow, and take mo raith you and she sat down in one of the stiff chai.-s ?nd wept bitterly. Thc woman moved to her child, and clasping her convulsively in her arms, bowed her head, and ?b?udoticd herself to a passion of tears. But at last ?mo looked up, and dashing the tears from her heavy eyelids, murmured in broken torj"s : "Bessie, we wen; happy in our honre once, but for three yeats it has been torture for me to live there. I should not see the summer flowers bloom, were Ito return-a y child, shall I go?" " No, no," cried Bessie; " I did not mean to pain yod. I will not again." H It is comfortableJierc," resumed bur moth er, glancing around. At this moment a gust of wind swept wailing over the hill and died ? I away in a low sigh: " Tte storm still co ues," she added, with a slight shudder, , deed, ? believe it increases, for the rain I : against the windows like hailstones. Ug ? am glad we are not wandering about. ? feared we might be obliged to. It seems I quiet in this little room, and I fancy 11 , rest better than I have for a long, long w ' Yon will call us," she said, turning to I Shaker sister, if wo oversleep ourselves "Yes," replied Mary Reed. ,,;Q< night," and she glided away. The poor refugee laid her aching head t : the white pillow, and closed her heavy e . but uo blessed dews of peace settled upon ??ho tossed restlessly to and fro, and'* i after wave of sorrow rose and swelled 1 and surged stormily over her soul. A she had not learned to pray ; to ber bi eyes, clouds and darkness seemed fol around the throne of mercy, and so groped wearily on through the midnigh her grief. CHAPTER Ii. . . "'Twero idle to rei -raber now, Had I thc heart, my thwarted schemes ; I bear beneath this altered brow The fishes of a thousand dreams : Some wrought of wild Ambition's fing Somo colored of Lovo's pencil well."-Wi> . Morning broke in brightness and beau No storm-clouds hung dark and sullen in sky, no keen blast chilled the opening hea pf. the spring flowers. Sanshine lay warm the broad fields of thc Shaker settlement, a shot tremblingly through the boughs of I orchard trees, and a soft wind sweeping from thc south fanned tho brown cheek of I plough-boy and made pleasant music ame tho green foliage. At day break Mary Reed was astir. JD first thought was of the strangers she h ^ken in the evening previous, and she 8t< noiselessly into their chamber. Just as s crossed tho threshold, a low groau fell up her ear, and thc woman started wildly in sot painful dream. " Richard," she mutter " Richard-you need not say a, word-I know all ! Leave mc-leave mc-let t rest !" Then the emaciated arms which s bad been wreathing aloft, dropped heavily i the coverlet, her lip3 grew stern in'their coi pression, and lier sleep became a little mo quiet. The Sbakeress withdrew in silenc but as soon as the morning meal was ov and her most pressing duties perfumed, si went back to the room occupied by hi guests. As she entered, she saw that tl woman had riseu and was standing by tl window. Beneath her was tho Shaker vi l?ge, with its neat and substantial houses, i well kept'walks, its trim-fences and its whi church, without spire cr pretension of ar kind, but somewhat apart from the rest, ac surrounded by a simple paling and smool green-sward. Beyond these, her eye cou! trace the silvery windiugs of mountain stream the outline of noble forests and many a roo of fertile land, while farther oil", rose range c range ol hills, some brown, and fleckered wit white groups bf sheep and cattle that seeine like specks ?D thc ditri distance ; some purp! and some blue as the sky which bent ove them, ??nd crowned with snow. '. Then you arc up," paid Mary, moving t the woman's side. '. Yes," slio answered ; " I coulduVlie an louger, hui. Bessie, pour child, sleeps aouudl yet." "And bow do you like here 7" continue thc Shakeress. " Ob, the prospect is lovely," rojbincd th women, "and it funks very peaceful, too." ,! Yea," said Mary ; " and now yon can pu on your own clothes and go on, or k>>pp our' and be one of us. Do you really think o joining our Society ?'.' " 1 wish to remain ; that is, for the present wa* the quick reply; but I know nolkinj of your requirements ; ] never heard of yoi till a month ag )." " Yrou would understand our faith belier bi talking with some of tin; Elders and reading our Sacred lt-di," ?-aid Mary. " No, no, I never could have patience will dogmas of any kind," rejoined her compati ion, impatiently; '"but what are your cus tums ? Can you tell me in a few words ?" " Uh ! yea," .said the Sbakere?s ; '. we don'i conform to iLe fashions i r pleasures of th? world's people ; wc work diligently ; wc neil lier man y nor are given in marriage-' " Ila !" interrupted the stranger ; " that i.? best of ail ; it is just what I want to hear, Listen a moment; a misplaced love hus been the bane ol' my life." She paused, and a deeper shadow settled over her lace ; but after a brief hesitancy, she went on; "1 know by bitter experience that an unhappy marriage is a living death ! From such u fito I mean to shield my B.-ssie. Book it her!" and she hurried lo the low bed, where the child still lay asleep. " She will grow up a beauty." added her mother, '* and if she is not kept in seclusion, she will be much sought after. She may be wooed and won by somebody' as fas cinating and false ns her father-may suffer as 1 have. If she becomes a ..Shakeress, she will not be exposed to these influences ; that thought is sufficient to bring me to a quick decision ; aud then we are homeless, friendless -what could we do alone ? Yes, lam ready to join your Society any day, any hour." " Well," said Mary, " I will make your wish known to the Elders. What is your name ?" Thc woman" started nervously. " Call me Margaret Percival," she at length said ; " I have cast oil' his name with my old garments." And thc child ?" queried Mary. "She shall lay.it aside, too," replied (he woman ; '' her father is very fond of her, and should he by any means find out where we are, he would move Heaven and earth to car ry her back. It will be safer to drop even her pet name Bessie ; she must bc Elizabeth Per cival, henceforth." At thia juncture the child awoke and gazed with an air of bewilderment around the chamber. lier eyes filled with tears as the events of the previous day and uight came crowding thick and fas1, upon her, but she would not let them fall when she saw how haggard her mother looked in the morning light. Her simple toilet was soon made, and she went down stairs with a quick, firm step. After breakfast one of tho Shaker si.-tcrs took her out to seo the poultry and various other wonders, so that two or threo hours passed less drearily than she had feared. But ia the afternoon, a great trial came. She was sit ting with her mother in tlje roora where they lind slept, when an Elderess stole softly in. ''Margaret Percival, I suppose," she said, nodding to the stranger, " well, I am Sarah Wells-we don't say Mr., Mrs. and Miss, like tho world's people, as you perhaps, havO ul ready noticed. Mary Keed told me you had a completo Shaker suit with the exception of a cap, and so I brought you threo or four you'll find one to fit you among them." " Oh ! mother," cried Bessie, " you can't wear those; they wouldn't half cover your beautiful hair." " If you mean to stay with us," interposed tho Elderess, " you must conform to our cus toms. Your hair must bo cut off ; it might ministerio pride to keep it long." Margaret Percival's wan cheek grew crim son, and there was a strange tremor in ber frame, as she removed her comb and shook down her glossy tresses. " I never was handsome," she murmured, faintly, but I used to bo proud o? my hair, and he, Richard, when we were happy, used to be proud of it, too. But thai ia all over; I might as well part with it." Still she sat drawing its shining lengths through her thin fingers, holding it up to look atflts luxuriance, and now and then folding it I in'ia black coronet around her head. VThere," she said, finally ; "I am weak to fiel snch a pang at this small sacrifice. You may cut it off now." :The Elderess lifted thc scissors which hung atLher girdle and commenced ber task. V I say you shall not, cut off that pretty bair, naughty, disagreeable woman," cried ', Bessie, springing forward/; "don't let her, mather, don't, don't !" and she flung herself ' down on the floor and sobbed as if ber heart i would break. Sarah "Wells, however, quietly proceeded i With her work, even adjusted the cap of the I newcomer; then she said:- ? " Our little girls usually wear a net ; it is a i great deal less work to take care of the hair < so.? Here is one for you, child, and your bair ; must be clipped, too." I won't hav.e it," shrieked Bessie; "I i won't stay here if you treat me so." 1 f Bessie!" murmured her mother ; "I wish j it, and you know how it pains me to seo you < disobedient." The child's tears flowed afresh, but for a i lonn time she did not speak. At "last, when 1 her long, rich curls"lay in a bright heap on ? the carpet, she broke out, mournfully :- i " ft is too bad ! How papa would feel, and c Wallace, dear Wallace-he said there was not t another'head of hair so beautiful as mine,.in ] all ?Boston ! Oh, mother, I can't help cry- i ing.J" and she wept piteously. . s J?argaret Percival bent lower over the pile i of -ringlets. "Was it a tear that fell on the i goldeu coils ? Yes, and she walked to tho j window to hide her agitation,' while Sarah i Wells arranged poor Bessie's net. s "Thus the once brilliant and courted woman 5 of the world became a Shakeress. 1 ? ??' ? __ . -..>. t Summer had come and gone. The wheat" i sheaves had, been gathered in ; the yellow fi corn gleamed through its.rustlinghusks ; the apples were growing ripe and luscious on the orchard boughs, and the wild autumnal winds now; and then piped shrilly over the Canter bury hills. The Shaker settlement was busy as a bee- 8 hive with the harvest work. And where all 1 thia while was Margaret Percival ? Soon af- c ter joining the Society she and her child were 3 removed to the North Family where novices 1 are usually sent. One bright, serene day, she was standing in 'an upper room of tho Trustee's office, ? whither sbe had been summoned on a trifling ? errand. As she chanced to turn towards the ! window which commanded a view of the main road, she saw a light phaeton, drawn by a fine bay horse, and-with a siDgle oecupant j -a man,- who was gazing with much appar- { eht-iuterest ou the scene before him. Marga- k ret bent eagerly forward, pressing he: hand ? hard against her heart a3 if to still its tem- 2 pestuous throbbing ; the color came and went \ upon her face, and ber eyes bumed with a strange fire. 8 " Richard !" she at length gasped, and fell \ senseless to the floor. .Two of the sisters sprang to her side, and one hurried to tho window. The pbreton had c jusj,;stopped at the cilice, and a gentleman waa alighting. He had scarcely reached the prime of life, fjr there were very few Hues of care ou his iiugularly handsome face, and not a thread of silver in his curling chestnut bair. I H'uv,iigure was tall and well moulded, and fe lhere was an easy grace in every movement. ^ Even the demure Shakeress who stood watch ing him so intently, could not help admiring the courtly bow with which he greeted the brother who advanced to meet him, and the 1 smile that flashed over his countenance seemed full of fascination. He was dressed with a faultless elegance, and as he moved towards ihe door, Sister Anna caught the rainbow ^ glitter of a brooch, which, though she did not t know its value, raighi, have bought a snug little New Hampshire farm. The tcusic of his voice, as he sat convc-rs- 1 ing below, rose to ihe chamber where Marga ret Percival wa-;, and was the first suund she heard on coming back to consciousness. How ii thrilled along her shrinking nerves! What j a bust of memories it recalled! "Then it is no dream," she murmured ; r .. he, Richard Liucclu is herc. He bns d?3 y covered my hiding place. He will take Bessie s from me !" " Na)-, nay, I guess not," said Sister Anne ; t " perhaps he is only a chance visitor." . . Still Margaret trembled with apprehension, and one of the women was dispatched to keep guard over Bessie, aud another went down to a learn ii possible the object of Lincoln's visit. v An hour t.f terrible suspense passed-an hour ? during which Margaret Percival suffered the r extremest torture. G Then Lincoln drove on, and she ascertained that he bad said nothing about a micsing wife j or child, With a yearning gaze she watched t bim as he rode up the hill t yond the village, s for in that hour ca=c the thought that she s was taking her last look of ihe lover of her g youth, the husband she had vowed to honor j. and obey at the altar, the father of her child ; and tho agony of her soul went out in a wild( wailing erv :- 1 " Richard 1 Richard ! Richard !" i _ d CHAPTER III. c And had bo not long road Tho heart's hushed accrot, in the soft, dark oyes, Lighted at his approach, and on the cheek, Coloring all crimson at bis lightest look. ?' L. E. Landon. Six years hod rolled by since Margaret v Percival and her child found a refuge among a the Canterbury Shakers. Had those years t brought peace and rest to tbe wretched, t world-weary woman ? Had they dropped healing balm upon her wounded spirit? No; oh, co! Her rebellious, undisciplined heart g beat as stormily under her plain dress as it had beneath the silken folds of luxury. In ihe quietude of her home sho was as misera ble as she had been in *he great metropolis. She, h wever, rigidly c. formed to the usages c of the community. Unaccustomed as she e had been to toil, she never shrank from her r share of the labor. When she was required 1 to she had given up the immediate eupervis- a ion of her child. It cost her many a pang to yield, but she did at last school herself to the trial- She joined in their worship, ns soon as e the fear of discovery had worn off, but her e step flagged and her thin hands moved list lessly in the dance and march ; and no "new revelation" could inspiro her with enthusiasm. " And Bessie-what of her ?" I fancy I * hear the reader ask. She had fulfilled the o promise of her childhood and grown up a 'i beauty. She was also at eighteen 60 fine a c scholar, that she was, despite her youth and inexperience, appointed an assistant teacher in the Shaker school. Besides, there was not ? so rich and sweet a voice as hers in the 1 whole settlement, and she was, therefore, one s of the leading singers at church. I It was on a glorious Sabbath during ber c eighteenth summer, that she stood in the lit- i tie temple, Binging some wild, fantastic tune, v A crowd of spectators were gathered around s her, but for a time she did not appear to be f aware of their presence. Her soul was lost n in the song, and she sang on, not after the r usual cn8tom of her sect, but in a clear, warb- t ling tone, as a bird might sing in the green t woods, or on bis flight through tho tranquil t sky. s "What a voice !" exclaimed a young aud B fashionably dressed man, who had come there \ with a gay party of friends, and half-rising 1 from hiWeat, he leaned eagerly forward to r catch a glimpse.of the singer. As his glance 1 fell upon her, a sudden flush broke over-his c high forehead, and his whole frame seemed to c thrill. He was still gazing at her, silent and . ?nnBsnmnannn abstracted, when one of tho party whis pered : " Why, what's to pay ? Oh ! I see ; you've got your eye on that little Shakeress yonder. Isn't she tho most beautiful creature you ever saw ?" " Hush ! husb, Ben," was the quick, almost petulant answer, but Lysle Derwent still kept his gaze riveted on Bessie Percival. Yes, there was no denying Ben Blake's statement That was a beautiful face shaded by the close muslin cap, with a brow of transparent fair doss, and a cheek where the bloom rose and ?eepened and faded with every changing emo tion ; the red, ripe lips were delicately chis ?lled ; the teeth revealed, as they parted, were white and regular, and the half-veiled ;yes were large, soft, and shy as those of a poung fawn, but full of dreams. "Lysle, Lysle,"interrupted Ben,in another whisper, "I'm fast falling in love. Don't ?Tait for mo when the service is over. I'm ^oing to join the Shakers, and make the ac quaintance of this girl by stratagem." " Pshaw !" said Derwent, with a gesture of inpatience, but he did not remove his eyes rom the singer. At length the song ceased, ind she glanced bashfully around j Derwent noved slightly, and their eyes met. It was mly for an instant; with Shaker decorum she urned away, and with a vague feeling of Measure Lysle Derwent marked the blush vhich swept across her fair face. She did not ling again that day,' but sat prim and demure vith a row of sisters; and yet thrice, ere the. neeting broke up, as she ventured to steal a ;lance at thc stranger, she caught his admir ug look, and as he passed out of the church, he saw him gaze at' her long and earnestly. This was an era in Bessie Percival's quiet life. The next Sabbath morn, as she took her sta ion among the singers, she noticed that the itranger had come again. She had not ex acted this, and the young heart under her nowy kerchief fluttered with a novel pleasure. CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. AN ASTONISHED NEGRO WOMAN.-During 3his t mas week the variety stores were selling ome queer-looking and curiously prepared >apers called skyrockets. An old " desce? ?an!," attracted by the gaudy parti-colored ticks, purchased one, thinking it was an or ?ament for the head. Applying it to this ise, she has persistently wom it amid her sa lle kinks as an attache to her waterfall, nev ir suspecting its dangerous tendency to ex >losion. Last night, being a solemn occasion n the old woman's life, the anniversary of ter birth, she dressed herself with exceeding are, and invited her neighbors'in to partici >ate in the celebration. Prominent among the reises of the head dress was the skyrocket, ionic mischievous urchin saw and divined its ?xploeive tendencies. When the old woman's ittcntion was deeply engaged, he applied a natch to it. Thc effect was electrical. The ' rocket" went off, and the old woman fell creaming to the floor. She kicked and yell id lustily. She thought the day ofjudgment lad come-the idea cf fiery serpents fastened in her mind. Terror stricken, the alarmed larkeys gave way before the distracted wo nan, and the air was vocal with distracted creeches. The polioe were notified-they :rowded around-the facts were related, and he wisest suggested an appeal to the fire de )artment for a soluticn of the mystery ; but lefore they got Iber* '.he old woman's terror ibated and her apprehensions quieted.-N. ). Picayune. ?3^" A man wbo'll malicio#ly set fire 0 a barn," said Mr. Slow, " and burn up wenty cows, ought to be kicked to death by 1 jackass, and I'd like to do it." JBSfAn exchange says it is hard to live vithout a wile-no gentle heart to got up norning* to build the fire. Some one culls the time of squeoz-. ng girls' hands the palmy season of life. ?2T?The ,nost startling proposition of the reek is made by a Northern paper-to re tore all thc plate, pianos, jewelry, etc., sto en from Southern families on private account luring the late war, aa a beginning point for ?conciliation and permanent reconstruction, t is said to have created an unparalled sen ation throughout the New England States, be Rsdicals generally denouncing the au bor as a " disloyal, copperhead" and "blast id t rai! or." ff:y A widower was married, a few days .gu, at a church, making a "big splurge" nth a brass band. After thc iutcresting ccr tmony, the band struck up that old and fa niliar air, " My wife's dead and I've got an ther one." Appropriate. A Washington telegram say6 Mr. fohnsuu is sewed up ; Butler is still bottled ip; Grant is politically used up ; Staunton is tufled up ; and the couutry, constitutionally peaking, gone up. As the correspondent a\s nothing of Greeley, thc inference may ie drawn that he is going down " below." SHC" Nominale your poison," is the isl expression used in Indiana in lieu of the natterof fact. " What will you have to Irink ?" j&i?T* " Why do you set your cup of coffee in the chair, Mr. Jones?" asked a worthy and lady one morning at breakfast, ' It is so ery weak,' said Jones, " I thought I would et it rest." Jjg?? Isn't it very afiectiug to behold at a reddins? the sorrow-stricken air of a parent s he " gives the bride away," when you know hat for the last ten years he has been trying o get her off his hands. j8gg? A SIGN.-A Smart lad say3 that when ou ?ec a young man and woman walking lown thc street against each other like a pair f badly matched oxen, it is a pretty good ign that they are bent on consolidation. Jts?T" A Kansas city editor went skating the ither day, and slipped into an air hole. His ars caught on the edge of the ice, the hole lot being big enough to let them through. They partially froze, and will be amputated ,nd used for door mats. CufFy said he'd rather die in a rail oad smashup than a steam boat burst up, or this reason : "If you gets off and smash d up, dar you is ! but if you gets blowed up in the boat, whar is you ?" An old darkey a short timo since, cry forcibly illustrated the present condition f the negro, when he said, " de yarkces take em, and turn 'ern loose in de big road, and lidn't tell 'em which way to go." ? ? ?> ' PASS HIM AROUND_Our exchanges in this State, North Carolina, Georgia, Florida and Cenneaaco will confer a favo-- and render as ?stanse in the capture of a notorious thief, iy slating that Bob Thompson, a mulatto, es aped from custody on the Gt h inst., by jurnp ng from the passenger train on the Green ?Ile and Columbia Railroad, between Alston md Littleton. He is about 25 years of age Ive feet G or 7 inches high, blind in one eye ,nd the lid partly closed ; has very black hair, escmbling that of an Indian, and cut short; ie is considerably marked by small pox, es* iccis'ly on his nose. He is a well-known mrglar and horse-thief, and has broken open evcral stores and stolen horses in this State ind Florida. Had on a pair of hand-cuffs vhen last heard from. A reward of Forty Dollars is offered for him by John R. Coch an, of this place, and any person arresting lim will confer a favor by notifying him at ince. Newspapers copying this notice and lausing his arrest will be liberally rewarded. -Anderson Intelligencer. Sketches of thc Delegates to the Gre Rinded-Streaked-and-S triped. THE' LEXINGTON DELEGATION. Here at last is a delegation composed white men, whose antecedents may be di covered without the disagreeable necessi of. searching police records or criminal doc eta, and of whose past life and chief chara teristics ? short sketch may be given withoi offending modesty or good taste. LemuehBoozcr is a jolly looking old fe low, with a smooth shaved rcd'fac? and ha that once waa of tho same rich colour, bi has of late years becom? somewhat froste by the snow* cf time. The Honourabl Lemuel is apparently in the neighbourhoo of sixty years of age, and he might oasil; have lived out the remaining half score a lotted to the life of man and/died, if not i the odour of sanctity, at least with a cen fortable assurance of plain respectability but for that ambition which led him by slo but sure degrees to'his present nnenviabl prominence among the leading conspirator of the Club House assembly. But few of the delegates to the <?reat ring ed-streaked-and-striped have any political re cord, and they may, therefore, as a genera rule perform most extraordinary 1.-ats in grourn and lofty tumbling, as to their individual opio ions, with but little risk of detection. . Un fortunately for Lemuel his opinions have no been hidden in such friendly obscurity. 'H bas practised law and has been a sort of stant by for thirty years as State.Senator, from th't district which he now misrepresents,-he ant two or three other old fogies being elected by turns *, and in the last Legislature, electee by the people of South Carolina, Lemuel heh the position. Now, it is not on record, ihn in the course of his public career, the Hon Mr. Boozer, ever electrified the inhabitant of the Dutch Fork, by his impassioned elo quence ; nor do we read that listening Senate stood entranced by the splendor of his erato ry, the power of his logic or the. keenness o his satire. In fact, the records attached to th? name of Lemuel Boozer, in the political his tory of this State are brief, very brief, mon osyilabic. ''Lemuel Boozer, aye"'iLemae Boozer-no." Those are specimens-to al appearances very insignificant-but in fac? very significant. They prove that througr. a long series of years Boozer was a tolerably sound States Rights man. One of those lit tie records ;s qneer. It is the only one wirier, we will particularly notice. The constitu tional amendment, a much milder measure o: Reconstruction than the Reconstruction acts of which Lemuel is the present champion was ?before the legislature of which he was s member. Thc amendment received but ont vote in its favour. Now, reader, of course you th'rak, that vote was Lemuel's-but it was not. That vote was from Charleston. Where were Lemuel and Lexington ? Lemuel ac cepted the position of District Judge at th? hands of the Legislature. Simeon Corley has placed himself up>n the record in the Club House assembly, and that in language unmistakable. He can hardly again pretend to be the friend of the white people of South Carolina. To judge by his resolution recommending ?he removal of thc provisional ofliccrs of the State, one would de clare him to bc a political thug, or at least bushwackor. Simeon is only a tailor, and it takes nine tailors to make one man. As Simeon sat Tor years cross-legged upon a counter, cutting and sewing and pressing, his brain was not idle. One of thc results of the activity of Cor ley's brain, and thc one achievement ot his life on which he always prides himself, and by which bc imagines he has made the world, at least the fashionable world, his debtor, is the invention of a machine for fitting gentle men's coats. It consisted of a combination of brass straps, which can be arranged around the bod}' so as to give an exact mea surement of lengths, curves and angles, by following which the eXpart tailor can preserve the contour of thc person in the shape of the garment. An unlucky editor of the Scientific American once thought fit to give a descrip tion of this curious contrivance, and Simeon has carried a copy of thc paper in his pocket ever since ; at least, an eye-witness assures us that he had such a paper in his pocket when ho was a prisoner at Point Lookout-for Simeon was a Confederate soldier, and it is fair to presume that if he carried the highly prized prints through the hazards of war to the prisoner's cell, that he would hardly part with it under other circumstances. The Scien tific American stood him in good stead at Point Lookout ; for the reputation it gave him, as a tradesman, secured him the position of tailor to a certain number of prisoners, where by he obtained various rights and privileges. In this connection, it may be as well to state that while the loyal Simeon was in prison, it, was a standing rulo that any prisoner who would take the oath should be set free. Strange as it may appear, neither loyalty nor love of lreedom was sufficient to iuduce Corley to ac cept that offer. Ile was in constant consul tation on the subject with an officer of the garrison, and in correspondenco with an in dividual in Maine, but up to the time our in formant left Poiut Lookout, Corley still re raained true to his Confederate allegiance. Simeon, as * philosopher, is great on tem perance, both in meat uud drink, or. {o speak with more correctness, he is in favour of total abstinence in both these particulars. Ec will not even drink wine at the communion-table, and, in point of diot, he is a vegetarian, for swearing even Spring chickens, and living al together on the products of the earth. Simeon is also a phrenologist. Many years ago a phrenological lecturer passing through the benighted regions of Lexington describ ed Coney's bumps in so flattering a manner, and so entirely to his satisfaction, that he be came a convert to the doctrine forevermore. He efVcn went so far as to trust his matrimo nial prospects, for Simeon was then a bache lor, in thc hands of this itinerant humbug, and requested him to choose him a wife ac cording to her bumps. Sure enough the fel low found a woman in Maine with corres ponding irregularities of the cranium with those ot Corley, and he wrote him word to that effect. So implicit was the faith of thc tailor that he either went for, or sent for the female in question and actually made her his wife. Neither roan nor woman touches meat of any kiud, but they are both great on?corn bread and plain greens. Unfortunately for the reputation of phrenology, this curious couple have no off-spring. Simeon's hair and beard or rather whiskers, arc shaggy and black, and his dress may bc succinctly described as seedy. The fit of his coat is certainly no credit to the accuracy of his machine. Ho is said to be fifty years old, but does not look more than forty at the outside. -?' " LIZE WE'LL DIE TOGETHER."-The At tica (Ind.) Ledger is responsible for the fol lowing : An interesting runaway match took place in Tippecanoe county. The " happy couple" proceeded to the railway depot at Lafayette, closely followed by the enraged dad,, armed with a horsewhip, which indicated that the arrangement didn't suit him. Ho was about to make active demonstration, when the young man, with a full realization of the sit uation, and the responsibilities of married life, " peeled" his coat, rolled up his sleeves, i cast a meaning and- ferocious look ?t the old < gent, and then turning to his inamorata ex- ? claimed, "Lize, we'll die together?" The < significance pf the remark so impressed the t old man that the gin was triumphantly "ahir> < ped" in charge~?f her "gallant lov?r. Ililli IHHII li ll I ll Hill Hill li I lill ll I III I il 111 I IUI ll III The Apple Tree in the Lane. . " ' . . -, ..... ; . ' . . It stood close bj where on tho leathered hinge Tho gate swung back from tho grassy lane, When the cows carne homo when, tho dusky ere Its mantle .'threw over hill and plain. ' Its b ran ches.k no tty and gnarled by timo, Waved to and fro in the idle breeze, When the spring days wove a blushing crown ' " Of blossoms bright for tho npplo trees. Its shadowB fell o'crthc'crystal stream . That all the long,'bright summer days, Like a silver thread, 'mid the'waving grass Reflected back the olden rays Of the noonday sun that madly strove . To drink tho fount of the brooklot dry, But the light clouds showered tear drops down Till the glad brook laughed as it glided by. Never were the apples half BO sweet, Golden russett striped with red As those that fell on the yielding turf When she shook the branches- overhead. A trysting place for :joot youthful- friends ;. Was tho apple trees in the days of yore... And oft we've- sat beneath its shade And-talked bright dream! of tho futuro Ver. And when the worm October sun Shone on tho apples scarlet robe, We gathered apples sound and fair- , And round os our own mystic globe. . . ; The stately hemlock crowni the hill, Ihtr dark pines rise above the plain But tho ono we prizo far me ro than they, The apple tree in thc pas-.nro lane. Long years havo passed, and cows no moro Come home at night through the grassy bute. Where the gate swung bach on leathern -hinge I stand andgaze on tho far-off plain. ' ' '. ?o more we list to the music low Of the crystal stream as it ripples on, And the apple tree ii the pasture laue Is.but a dream of the days by ?gone. " THE SITUATION.-There b?ve been nu merous attempts .to define *'the.situation," but; with all due deference to pundits every where, we think the following as good as tie best and far more epigrammatic : " A gentleman of color working on one ?f the boats on the Alabama river was asked thc other day whether he was beet off now cr belore he was free ? He scratched his wool ind said : \ Wall, when I tumbled overboard before, the captain he stopped the ship and put back' and picked me up, and they gave me a glass of hot whiskey and water, and then they give me twenty lashes for falling overboard. But now, if Td tumbled over board, the captain he'd s;,j what's dat-? oh, only dat dam nigger-go ahead."' * Gov. ORR.-The New York Day Boot; bas some hopes of poor Orr, the so called Gover nor of South Caroona. It says: " But we must not give up thc Governor as hopelessly broken*into the black cesspool of Mongrelism, for, in the conclusion of his ad dress to the gentlemen Cvffee?, he says, ' I am disgusted with politics.' He must bc. Wc should think any man would bc, with such politics as he bas adopted ; if he takes nothing to allay nausea ol" the stomach; it is not impossible that he may yet fpew thc dis gusting mixture- out of his mouth." . -,-%--\--."? a* ii... INDUSTRY STILL PAYS.-Tho Athens Ban ner relates an instance o? ?young man living about twenty miles from Athens, who leased a farm containing three or four hundred acres, most of it well worn. Ec worked four or five hands, made over twenty baies of cotto;;, a large crop of potatoes, over four. hu-:dre 1 bushels of corn, and with the proceeds of his crop bought the farm, a few days ago, paying ??1,100 for it. In good times thc place waa worth over ?3,001. This is but an illustra tion of what well-directed industry will do, anywhere in the South. If our voung men, instead of looking towta-dn Honduras or llr'i Btl, would go-to work with energy right byro at home they would soon find that it would pay. Our lauds are not yet exhausted. V.'r.h proper cultivation, the usc of fertilizers and a careful attention to thc rotation of crops Georgia will soon regain i.nd even exceed ber former prosperity. -? > ? FREAK OV NATUKE.-Wc have been infoim ed, by a responsible gentleman of this place, of a female child being born in York bis trict, with a iruo resemblance of a.walo; QU, it the back of her head. What is still as re markable, the mother never approved of such fashions. Its hair is about an inch in length, iud of a beautiful black. How strange that nature will endeavor to imitate thc fashions A the day by such ridiculous freaks, lt is ? problem for tho wise to solve-Cht aler Stanard. Ax IRISU VALENTINS.-Oh, Paddy, s-vate Paddy, if I wa-ye're daddy, I'd kill ye wid lusses intirely ; if I was je'r? brutber and likewise y?'re muther, I'd iee that ye wint to bed early. To feel yo'ra sweet breath I would starve me to death and lay off me hoops iltopether : to joost have a taste of your arm round me waist, I'd laugh at the mear,' st of weather. Dear Paddy, be mine, me own Val entine- ye'U find me both single . and civil ; Dur life wo will spind to an illegant ind, and :are may go dance wid de di vii. THE COTTON CROP_Thc cotlou specula tors, having combined to laiso the price of cotton, the Southern planters are in a state af" high jinks." The ?peculators design to stimulate a large crop ; hence these prices In advance. They confidently rely upon tho gullibility of our farmers, and1 alroidy re joice that the alluring bait bas-been -avallow ed. A correspondent of the New York Her ald thus writes : M The recent rise in the price of cotton has ilready produced a magical effect in the South." ' Yes ; and the decine ia cotton, next fall, will produce another effect, more melancholy than magical, we fear.-Cons itutionalist. ? ? ? ? The Round Table, heretofore a bold, man ly and outspoken Grant organ, now since that immaculate statesman, served th?t dirty lit tle trick upon thc President, talks it iii this wise : " They have tripped him at last. If he does not consider himself bound to surrender to back the President powers which he derived solely from the President, he may not be re ady, at the proper time, to surrender to th8 pi ojilc fowcrs with which they may intrust him. nstead of being a safe man, he - may be the most dangerous man in the country to whom tho people could confido their interests. - THE GOOD TIME COMING_Dr. Clarke, a noted spiritualist, who has been on a recent visit to Warren ton, Ga., says it bas been re vealed to him that this country has but seen the beginning of her troubles, but that those to come are to be borne chiefly by the North, (which, if true, will be some consolation to poor Southerners.) He says we are to have no moro Presidents ; that there are' to be wars and revolutions for the next fourteen years, during which time England will lose her crown-forever, and Ireland will shako off lier shackles and become free and indepen lent; that after the lapse of fourteen years )ur country will again be organized, With tho capital at Chicago, and, "during ? long "rjeriod >f years, enjoy a degree of prosperity hither o unknown in the history of any land. All )f which we learn from the Greensboro Herald. [Constitutionalist.