Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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'/ r * %2 PER ANNUM. ^ARBITRARYNUr H , WE (ADS T1 IE WAY! "KRE ER IN ADVANCE. NBUTRiL IN POLITICS?DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, SCIENTIFIC, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE. VOLUME II. LANCASTER, G H, SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORNINH, MARCH 2, im NUMBER 1 K. H. BA1LEV, sick EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. Zi TKB.1IM i "" roo Tna "Lidskk" in published every Wed- s'st< tiesday morning, at the low price of TWO no DOLLARS per Annum, if paid IN AD- and VANCE; Two dollars and a half, if pay. I *< ment bo delayed three months, and THREE an,j DOLLARS at the end of six mouths. ij)T*mn?hro. i #7 Advertisements will be inserted at oev- to ( onty-fivo cents per square for the first inaertion, and thirty-seven and a half cents per j ( square for each additional insertion. Single insertion, one dollar per square. m?'' SeUrtei (frflUs.rjE ^ the OUR MINISTER'S WIFE. Z to 1 BT MART MAY. trie sou A mil a somewhat lengthened absence, j 1 have again returned to Athdale.Ar't thou flad, render! Never mind if you're no/; -( ball write my story all the sains, and jjtl| then I snly wish I had the power of corn- fmtj yelling you to read it, just to punish your >Jk<j indifference. Ah! I see, I'll send it to the j l olive ltranch, and then ray revenge will he completed, for when one onco sees the ^ Olive branch, there is no getting away jaf4 from reading it through. So now for your Qot punishment. # j ( Very soon I hied me to my favorite re/ i i mi ? 1im treat, in our lovely village cemetery, but ^ how changed it was since my last v.sit.? ' Tlie n*ee and the delicate fragrant flowers had disappeared, and the bright green ae* carpet beuealh my feet was withered and .vr* dry. The smiles of June had faded, and c sober autumn waa busy at work, striving can in vain to |>ut Nature to death. Steadily he breathes upon the surrounding trees, % and yet, while his chill breath is driving the lifa Ueod Croat the veins of the flutter- * ing leaves, as if in pity for tbsir short life, Lv paints theiu with his brightest hues, j1*01 and as we gaie up<m the dying foliage, we think it more l>cauliful in death than wlieu j* ' summer kissed its emerald brightness. If ear were the rosy cheeked apples that '* were hanging ?>u the old apple tree by n<* Farmer llardy's grave. It was the old ^ man's wbim, to have the tree plaated there, and long years bad its sturdy . . hrsuehss shallowed ths graves of himself ,w aad family. 'Tit titer* that the village J''' urchins fill their Dockets with ths terant- .. .' iag fruit, without fear that trajw or watch dog* are lying in wait. I looked with admiring sy??s at the J11* bright aluatering berries of th? mountain '*!' a?h, and at the gorgeous colore of the vine that waa twining and cliinhiiif around the I1 1 wide-spread oak jouder. I pauaed under ,n* the drooping willow, and seated myself on the little bench beneath, whilst the jj>r leaves fell geully around me, and covered *7. the loved mounds at ray feet. If our 1 cemetery is lovely in eunsmer, so too in a* ' nutumn it ie still beautiful. ' As usual when in this quiet spot, the e^u spirit of induing falls upon rae, and ao ; v?l busy was I with my thoughts and pancil and pa|>er, that I heard not the approach *be of any one, until a sweet veice exclaim- ,n'n ?d,? ?? "Why Mary! ia that you!" Hiatily I started to my feet, and inct tliesmiling glance of "our minister's wife." m7 After the first surprise and salutationa rou< were over, she apologized (or interrupting he* me, at the same time atoopiug to pick up *^u ray paper which I had uaconeciouely w" dropped. "V * Will you, Mary, permit ma to read vtnj the subject of jonr thoughts, which era sisU hers written!" said she, as the seated her- but eetf l?wide me. rer With some confusion I assented; in a abb few minutas she looked up with n sigh, but "Ah!" said she, "how vividly aiu I re- he 1 minded of my own youth, when my great- or t ?et enjoyment was in writing down ray forn passing thoughts; but the greatest contrast dry, m between us, for you are surrounded by be i all the enjoyments of home and loving moi friends, whilst 1 waa?" hon Here she paused, her voice choked by cau emotion. I replied? larn ** I have understood, Mrs. N ma< that you wrote much formerly, and by brol means of one of your articles, you first be- chil came acquainted with your husband." thai " That ia true, Mary, and if some de- der tails of my life would interest you, I will one relate them." I immediately expressed my dear? to and that effect, after a abort eilence alia return- / ?J: dm I vividlj remember tha brightneaa of tnjr sati aarlieat childhood, tha ameM but lovely teni home hi which I dwel ; the garden in tlio* Which for hour* I played with my two p|? Whins mJ and my baby aiUer. hoa ~t feflacmbar iMihrtghttempting fruit, that mm with ahoata of childish io\, we received feel from tha hands af oar Tailalgent father, aha and tha hoaey wcktal arbor, from which Oft< our mother, with mailing faoe, would watch wot our happy frolic*. Ah! the aun of thoaa wot rwly dat% eeema all U?a brighter to mo, and contmatMg with tha dark cioude which thai aflerwarda otwcsred tea raya. rcac I had boon from hoaaa a ahort time, vi*- an itiag a friend of my parent*, for whom I foH wjm named, and returned to Had my mo- pan the*, gjjh a pnlc ?ad face, bending over the ed < i bed of my father. I couhl not then cl I on t and the hue of tny mother's dress vi the ?gony of tears with which my pa- in ta greeted me. I escaped from the di m, and eagerly sought my brothers and w er. The house was silent ; the garden in longer resounded with childish mirth, of I with a feeling of awe in my little heart bt fain returned to the darkened room, fo I asked my mother, 44 where are my w< thers and little Kate !" A'ith a thrilling cry of agony, the mem- J' of which even now causes my blood hill, she sank upon the floor, and while ic one was attending to her, my friend i had returned with rae,drew ine away P' I with streaming eyes, told me that my finale:, were gone from me never tore- w i. I could not comprehend at first, '>? jr they were not to come back;but she w me to the church-yard, and there by side of three newly raised mounds of in lb, she explainod to ine that beneath m were those I sought, and when I cried w tare them taken from tho earth, she I" d to instil into my mind that their pure tl Is had gone to a better world. n< n my absence, my father and the ohil- I" n had been attacked with a prevailing w tfetnic, which had prove*! fatal to the Hl le ones, but after a tedious sickness my w ler recovered. Each day 1 wandered, and lonely about the house, and often ? legged my mother to send me to the iven where iny companions had cone. Mi ! I knew not then how closely her If iraled heart twined about me. I knew tc how jealously her deep affection watch?ver her surviving child. Tis only now w is I look upon tny owa pets that 1 can '!' liis her maternal love. hi kfonths passed on ; my father's lone ill- |r ? prov?sl very expensive, and he recov- 11 il to find his business deeply involved *' lifficultics, and that his partner bad de- ^ iped to parts unknown with all the . fits of the concern. Wronged, deccivwhere he had felt unlimited confidence, I* parent nearly aank beneath the blow. u I Again wu he reduced by sickness ; a strung constitution triumphed once re, bis health returned, but out dear 11 ue had to be given up, and we remov- v< to the city. My mother sacrificed all 1,1 little property to establish my father tusiness again. Hut hi* troubles had rly broken him down, his native escr- 1,1 seemed subdued, his confidence was *' ie, and neg!e:ting his business, he yielI to temptation, and strove to drown ni despair in the intexioating cup. All J1 lonstranee was vain, and when, Mary, sd reached my twelfth year, we were lc ig in a miserable little house, and my ,n ken-hearted mother toiled day and ^ lit (or the support of a wretched hu*d and her child. In vain I desired to . I school and assist my mother to gain rlihood. She would not permit it, say ?' that she desired me to receive what 111 cation it was in her power to obtain ?! me, and she would willingly work liarthat I might enjoy the benefits, J" ch were so advantageous to the poor veil as the rich. ^ Ay poor mother! her own talents and [ cation had t>een superior, but n?n? f ? ilil have recognized iu llio pale, thin R| , Anil broken ?pirit of my dear parent ni who wu once admired for Iter briliaut ^ d, as well as loved for her kindliest ? r greatest pleasure seetned to be in iny ! for my studies and often as she weaplied the needle, did she assist me in ^ tasks. Never can I forget the raptu- ^ i look with which she folded ine to her c( rt, when she learned that 1 had been aitted to the High School, after a sue- ^ isful examination. w Vith avidity I pursued my studies, stri{ between schools to render all the asknee in my power to my mother, for little help did my father render, llie |y f nature was changed from a kind, ami- g, I man to an iritable, passionate tyrant, he was uot always so, for sometimes m, would be perfectly sober for a month <j) o, and he would appear ipiite like his iter self; then would iny mother's tears fa , and ho|?e animate her heart, alas! to M igain crushed when the tempter once 'e secured his victim. Oh! how I ah- ^ red the hypocracy and deceit that bail T( sed the ruin of my parents. The vil- ^ r of one whom my father trusted, had le him a drunkard, iny dear mothci u ken-hearted, and clouded my own gt J-hood. In my own heart I prayed ^ t never by word or deed might I wan- |j, from truth and right, to the injury of j Iteing, and the lessons of my mother f.l c deeply graven in my heart, to love ^ venerate truth. ^ It school I was surrounded hr the chil. I) of the wealth v, and often was my sen* <* ve heart wounded by the glance of con- si pt, cast upon my humble apparel, that m ugh always clean and whole, bore ain- It marks of poverty. Often was my re rt crushed by some scornful remark Is by my classmate, who seemed to insulted that one so poor as myself nld presume to attend that school.? M had 1 rushed home, feeling that I iM never go again, and Uien when 1 Id look upon my mother's pals face, think that k was her onto pleasure [ LI was adraacing in my studies.! would lately stifle my anguish of spirit, and ty myself all ths mors dlIHgeutiy. 1 that I was an outcast among my com* ions. I fell that ths tssshsra sys rest, oldly on mo, when I stood flrat in my asa ; I felt the sneers of those 1 had ri- j died, but oh ! when at ono time a silver edal was awarded me, though it was infercntly presented, my heart bounded ' ith joy as I witnessed the joyful tears of ! y mother, and I forgot the cruel remark > one of the scholars that I had much itter sell it and buy a decent dress, and j r the future remain at home to do slop- i ork for my mother." The remark ot the time had been in ! gnantly reproved by Helen It , daughter of a celebrated lawyer in the j ty. She had invariably U-cn kind to I e, and had ever seemed to rejoice at iny i ogress. Often had she chosen me for j ?r companion, although she was somehat my senior, and grateful did I feel for ' ;r sympathy. I was happy that there as ono who could appreciate my feelings, ; id thought not the worse of 1110 from be- j g poor. Once a week wo wrote compositions, and j ere obliged to read our productions aloud 1 Bforc the school. It was a hard task for I lose of us who were timid, but there was | j appeal, and much easier could I com- j ise, than read aloud w hat I had compos- | i. Indeed I loved to write, and many j 1 hour did I spend in writing efttisions, I hich none but my mother ever saw. One evening I had prepared a long imposition for the next day, and w as rcuing it to my mother, when my father enred. My mother had two hours before iron him the last money she had earned, > purchase some necessary articles, and ad each moment bc^p expecting him back ith them. lie bad been aite steady, m*hc now entered, is flushed face gate told too uly that he had ajPJBWiturned to his old kbits, lie seemed unusually irritable, id staggering toward me He snatched the sper from my band exclaiming:? u Come, enough of this mummery, why oti't vou cro to work, irirl t I 1imv<? ?nn. 1 jrted you long enough in idleness. lio ! ? work I say ! n and a* he said this, he trcw luy composition into our scanty fire. Involuntarily I sprang forward te aave , bu*. with an oath (and here Mrs. N's. >ice quivered with emotion,) he struck i? a blow on the forehead, which felled ic to the floor. Mary, I never can forget is cry, the piercing scream with which iv mother sprang forward towards me, id when I recovered, for I was somewhat unned, 1 found her weeping bitlerlv over if. It was the first time iny father ever ruck rw*, and it almost broke my heart: nt not a tear could I shed?inv grief was *o great for tears at that time, and for ij |KK?r mother's sako I tried to appear imposed, but oh, the agony I endured tat long sleepless night. I arose in the morning with an aching ead, and my forehead swollen and discolred. I bad used the last sheet of paper i the house to write my comjxwition upi, and not a cent had 1 to buy more.? ly teacher was much displeased when wo j milled writing, and very unwillingly had s once accepted an excuse from mo, w hen i had from nccesity not been prepared.? i'hat excuse could I now offer; but as ! dreaded to attend school without my irnposition, I could not endure to remain I I home and meet the sad, tearful gaze of ' ly poor mother. 1 w ished her not to | now the throbbing pain of my temples, | r the bursting agony of my heart. When at school, it came my turn to I tad composition. With a scarcely auda- | le voice I asked to !>e excused, pleading tat I did not feel well. Mr. C. exited me ft-oin reading, but bade me carr iny composition to his desk. I told him I had none, and hoped lie ould excuse me for that time. M Why did jou delay writing until toIT I " My confusion was apparent, for I hard' knew what to say, but finally I silvered? " I wrote one sir, l?ut it was destroyed, id I do not feel able to write it again tosy." I saw that Mr. C was displeased, T he was very strict in the rules of his hool. lie replied,? 44 I have already excused you twice, rcintly, and until you can present a better rason for your omission, you arc suspend1 from your studies." He resumed his duties, whilst I, Mary, it for I know not how long, like one unned. I felt that I was, for the first me, disgraced in school. I saw the insurious smiles of my schoolmates. I grew izxy with the [tain in my head, burning, aawing at my very heart-stiing* was the lought,44 my teacher doubts my truth? . ?u:_i i *_ d uimia nave irieu 10 ueceive mm? id that to me wm disgrace indeed. Unmacioualy I took a hit of paper, and as rifUy aa the thoughts rushed through \y aching brain, I traced three word*.? wae but a childish effusion, Mary, but I member it now :? <>h ask me not the reason why, I cannot, roast not, apeak the truth, Nor would 1 dare to tell n lie, But yet I merit not reproof. Hee'st not the wound within my heart! Know not the shrine upon my brow, Thy anger's but another dart, To pierce the wound that's bleeding j now. w r It's not enough that I roast beer, Prom all around contempt and acorn. In't not enough that I must wear, The garb that ajicaks the lowly horn. If this were all, I would not shrink, I'd n?|t regret my darkened youth : But oh! I can't endure to think Suspicion rests upon my truth. Ah ! then my teacher, li>t to ine. Take back'fl "III me tie 'NffiCC I.rt me but feel th a ! .*011 l"?? To hold in thy esteem place. '1 hen ask luc not the re <son \v l?_., I cannot, must not speak the truth ; And yet I would not tell a lie ; Believe I merit not reproof. I heard the hum of voices, and the ru>h of feet as the girls passed out at recess, but I moved not; I lifted not my bead until I felt an arm thrown around me, and looking up, 1 met the sympathizing glance of Helen U. I could not shed a tear, though tears would have relieved my burning brow, but I trembled with emotion as she s[H>ke kiud'y to me. M Shall I intercede for you, Clara /" said she. I shook my head, but as her eyes rested oti the paper before me, she addod, I see you have written?permit me to read the lines I" 44 Oh, no !" I exclaimed,; but she bad caught sight of some of the words, and gently removing my band, she read the lines. 1 hardly knew what they were myself, and surely could not have then repeated them; but what was my surprise, to scfeiier with teais rolling down Iter cheeks, hand tiio paper to Mr. who at that moment was approaching us. liaslily, and with an exclamation of annoy aiice* I sprang forward to snatch the paper, hut 1 was too late * and at the stern look of my preceptor, 1 sunk into my seal abashed, nor did 1 again lift my weary eyes until lie retired to his desk, and then as I east a glance of reproach toward in\ friend, she only smiled a tpiict smile, atu lllot wl io hor *o?l. As the girls came pouriig into the room, Mr. 0. called the school to order and then demanding atteutioi .observed. " I wish to remark that [ cxoneraU Clara from all blame ill regard to her o mission this morning, and I regret exceedingly that for one moment 1 gave hei a cause to think that she had fallen ii my esteem, for I shall ever bold b.-r ii my affection as one of the brightest ornamenu in my school." Could 1 have heard aright ! The revulsion^of feeling was great ; my head swam, my brain seemed to blaze, and 1 knew nothing more until I felt a rush ol eool air uj>on me, and o|tencd ns v eves to find myself supported by Mr. (J. and Helen, w hile the scholars were grouped al*>ui ine with faces of consternation. Mr. C, sent Helen home w ith me in a carriage, but days passed which I was tinconscioie of, raving incessantly, my mother afterwards told me, alniul my coni|*?ilion. Mr. C. and wife, also Helen and liei mother, were inv constant visitors, ami friends indeed did they prove to my mother and myself. Helen told me that my teacher, though usually so stern, wept like a child as ho stood by my bedside, and heard me in my delirium, telling how my composition was destroyed. It was many weeks before I could again attend school, but in my hours of convalescence I was seized w ith my old passion for w riting ; but I never supposed that any other eyes but my mother's saw my effusions. What wis mv astonishment, when oik day II* I. n earn'' bounding int*? inv r> cm 'ni l i 11r?invC ;i bundle of paper- into nr. lap, together witli i*-ii <l?*il:u>, sunk *>u: < breath into a ch or. My l<>ok> asked ?? explanation plainer liian tny tongue could have done, ami she smilingly pointed t? the papers. I opened one after anolliet of a popular weekly, and there Ijefore my eyes were printed my own little poems.? Helen explained that my mother had per mitted her to read my hnmhle writings and die had carried tin m all to an uncle of hers, who l*eing connected with the pa per I held in my hand,had published them and sent me the money which Helen had brought, with the ropiest that I would fa vor him constantly. I was overpowered at first, hilt gradual ly a sense,'>f delight ptf.aded my heart thai hy that means I could lighten the In hor of my dear mother, nnd whilst I was following the bent of my own inclinations at the same time contribute towards my Mip|K>rt. I had playfully signed 44 Agnes," when I had written, and as 1 perceived the pie ocs Helen brought were thus signed, I continued to write under this signature, and many were the little comforts I obtained ?>r my parent*. I remained at school about a year aftei my illncaa, but somehow school bad changed, or else ir y own heart bad changed for I no longer felt chilled by neglect 01 corn. All ap|>enred bright and joyful My teacher erer gave me a kind won! and glance, and my sclmolnintca wen kindness personified. 1 stop|?od not tr reminded myself that iny companions bad not thought it worth whilo to notice me until 1 became a favorite with the master bat pursued my studies with a light heart. Whan I was fifteen, Helen left acliool tc visit Kurop# with her parents, and about | that time Mr. C. was called to take charge ' of a distant seminary, consequently it i was with less regret that 1 left school and j went to learn the trade of dressmaking. I ; did not however entirely cease writing. A few months passed, when my 1110 hoi's i health seemed to decline, but still as she uttered so few complaints, I did not for a : moment imagine she was seriously ill. I never an instant dreamed of the i enl.nnil\ thai was impend'tcg. ' 'i -. i\ i had I ;d- tr ,< e??li\ev X'int V i-ikim ninile r aiel n:\ -.li had laboicd m *< . - 'noii , it* lii.ish, when on again ?ni. ! > _ it,, house, 1 observed her I to Is* alarmingly pale, and pressing her hand to her side. I persuaded her to lie J down, and had scarcely left the room for j some restorative, when I heard her exclaim | ''Clara," and as suddenly I flew back to her bedside. She partly raised herself, ! extended her arms towards me, fell heavily i hack on the bed, and remained motionless. 1 I supposed she had fainted, but wild with ! alarm, I hastily called in a neighbor. 1 j never shall forget the expression of her ' countenance as she glanced upon my mother. To my great wonder, she rushed from the liour>, and quickly returned w ith i several persons. "< >h, what ails her.'" I frantically cried, j as with awe-struck countenances they 1 vainly tried to restore animation, but they I only bid me not to feel alarmed. Very soon a physician arrived, summoned by I I know not whom, and with what a sense I I of relief I witnessed his approach. Anx-' I iously I reached him as he drew near my I i mother, but oh! how can I describe the 1 agony that like lightning rent my soul, as | he uttered, "S/ic is dead !" "No, no," 1 exclaimed, "she is not dead ?only fainted a few minutes ago. You I can surely restore her. Oh, doctor, say i my mother is not dead!" lie turned toward* me and said, "My i poor chiUI, your mother can never l?e | restored, for she bus died of a disease ?>t I 1 the heart " At these words the froze in my , ' Veins, iny heart seemed to turn to ice, and for hours 1 was insensible to my ' | woes. The next day I awoke from a heavy slumber, produced by the extreme ex' haustioii of my frame, ( radiially 1 arousr to a sense of my affliction, and on seeing "Aunt 1 frown," an old lady who was a neigh lair, sitting by my side, I asked ' her. "lias HIV lather Keen limn..?" j Long and sadly did she gaze u]?oti mo, I but on my repenting my question, site ! answered, "Yes, my dear, ho came home i last evening." I "Where, then, is ho now?" I asked.? : "lie has la-en gone these two days, and I oli! does ho?does he know I" hut here ' anguish overwhelmed me, and 1 groaned in tlie bitterness of my heart. | (Jood Mrs. lirown soothed me, and ' \ when 1 was somewhat calm again, she ' took my hand, and whilst her voice quivered with imotion, said to me: | "Listen to me, Clara, i have sad tiI dings tor you. AtHietion, heavy atilicliou : has befallen you, but you know not all yet. It is best, perhaj*?, that you should i even now know what has happened. Can I you school yourself to hear, inv child?" I Struck with wonder at her words, ami i tilled, 1 know not why, with awe, 1 bade I her proceed,?but little did 1 imagine ! what were her tidings. She told lire that my father hud returnr ed while I was unconscious; that his conI sternation when he learned what had occurred, at lirst seemed to deprive him I of the [?ower of utterance, but at last lie frantically bewailed my mother's death, . I ihcll ' i " ; lllU'li 111 \ senseless ^ t'-rm. :iii<; was t<>id ili.it it was feared 1 ; should ne\. r again !? restored to uniiiiu. I lion, lie Willi i p if'?i yell of agony ex| claimed, 'I'll, ?.m1! I have murdered , j llicm both!" and striking bis forehead I with his clenched hand, lie rushed from 1 .i,.. i n ? >?v iiuu^. iiv ?<i? seen running wiuiiv through the streets tow nrds the water, and when in the morning bis hut and coat ! were found on a wha f, it was known ! that lie had thrown himself into the tide, ( , and was in ?l' nroba'-iiity drowned. I | 1 cannot tell how 1 received the intel| licence that I was an orphan, f? ?r my bleeding heart suffered too intensely to | remember what passed, except w hen I was forcibly torn from my dear mother that she might be consigned to the earth ?and then how did I, in my very sold, ' j long to die, that I might go with Iter. ' j I cannot tell you, Mary you who are | surrounded hy the wealth of home and friends, the feelings of my desolate heart. 1 [ I cannot doacril?e to you, w ho are so constantly uphold l?y the arms of parental and brotherly utfeetion, my utter loneliI liens, my terrible anguish of mind, for I you could not understand it, and I earnestly pray that you may never know the r bereavement of the fond mother who has watched over you infancy and advised your , youth, or tlie father whom you love so r well. Old Mrs. Hrown ts>ok mo home with I her, where, by her motherly kindness, she i tried if p?*?siule to console mo in some t moasure. Ilio few effects my parents I posMwsed were soon aol<| to defray fui neral expenses, ami 1 only retained a gold , loeket oontaitiiiig tny mother's miniature, t taken soon after her marriage. Weeks passed, 1 scarcely know how; > no other home ha 1 I hut with tho kind t old lady who at fir*t took tue in ; but I well knew that I ought not to be a burden to her, for she was herself very poor, and worked for a living. She had children but none of them resided with her except her youngest, who was a stout young man, but was of a reckless, disss! pa tcu character. J lis mother, whose eyes were mostly blinded to his faults, was very fond of him, and w hat she would have called crimes in her older children, were but slight ei tor- in liiin. in her estimation.? "Aunt lirown," as all the voting ]?'oj>h termed Iter, had at first inquired if I had no relatives to whom I could go, and then it was that I aw akened to the senseo my loneliness. I felt that I was like si frail hark far out on the stormy ocean dismasted, without compass, buffeted ahoul hy the surrounding billows, each inoniem thrcutned with destruction. In my despaii 1 forgot that the same Hand that line pointed towards uie the storm of ntlliction could safely guide me through the hug* waves of adversity into the smooth water of prosperity. I had no relatives to whom I conn turn, for mv father had in early youtl lost his parents in Kngland, and leavin; an older brother and sister there, le- ha< returned to this country. 1 sa\ < ? . > 1) because he, as well as ids f.Mlo . '-r natives of America; but his m< r. s!. was an Knglishwoman, bad, v. hh whole family, gone to England to '..k possession of some property which hu< Ih>cii bequeathed to her. My fathe found, w hen he came back to Amcrien that his father's relatives had all emigrate to the far West, and he started thither i search of some of tlicm. Uc was nc successful; but in a Western city he im with my mother, whom he married; an immediately after, with her parents, the came to New Egland, and my father ct J tonal into business in the city, where I | afterwards ti ed. My grandparents die | when I was very young, too young 1 j remember them, and my uncle Uieh, m j mother,* brother, who had establishc j himself in the East Indies, we had n< j lor yonr* heard fro?l. I I have spoken about a friend of my dei ! mother, for whom I was named. She ha | years before gone to South America wit her family; and the rest of my parent | friends, who had welcomed them wit smiles in their days of prosperity, ha soon forsaken them when the tide of :u vcrsity turned upon them. So you see, my friend, that 1 was ii I deed alone, ami 1 tear I should have bee entirely friendless, but for the sympath of "Aunt I frown," who with streamin eyes bade me make her house my hotix until, as she said, "something for the be ter turns tip." (hie evening 1 hail been gazing upo l my mother's picture, and weeping bittel I ly, w hen suddenly these words vividly o< | ettrred to me. "When mv father an mother forsake me, the Lord will take m j up." A calm, saered feeling seemed i i pervade my breast, and clasping the pi< I lure to my heart, I exclaimed, "It is th | pure spirit, my mother, that hath infuse j serenity into my lacerated heart, and oli ! mavst thou ever watch o'er thv child o : earth !" I saw that I was wrong in thus givin j myself up to passionate grief, and I fe i nwn in?5 uiiii i nouiu remain inn< live in > longer. ) Tin* next tiny I surprised the olil lad ! I?y telling her that 1 was going out t seek work ; her countenance in a uioiiici brightened, ami she tol?] me she was rigl glad to hear it, for if I was only busy, | should not tind time to always f?cl had. The dressmaker who had employed in< i readilv gave tne work, ami I found th;i Aunt Itrown was right, for when m hands were employed, my miml in som decree recovered its cheerfulness. I sti remained with Mrs. Hrown, for she wa ! unw illing to part with me, nor could I .1 first scarcely |?ersiiade her to accept of r? j numeration for my hoard, hut at last sh I yielded, for 1 told her oil no other cond | lion would I remain. One day I met Mr. II, the uncle of m friend Helen, and for w hose paper I ha< written. lie stopped me, and seeme pleased to see me, saying he had wondoi cd what had heroine of me, and that h had as usual sent some money he owe me to my house, hut the bearer could gai no tidings of me, as strangers lived in th | house. I told him of my sad loss, I which he appeared to sympalh'/i deeph He deaired me to step into th.! office w it him, which I did for die first time ; f< when 1 had sent communications ;<> th paper, n voting lad had carrieil them f< if. i> 1?1 -1 : ?? ' - iiir, mm mi ?%., IKUI IU!I? II alienee, either sent or brought what li thought proper to me, and always iiioi than I thought I desirvod. I had entin Iv forgotten that any thing wu owing t me until Mr. li., H|M>ke about it, and at hi request 1 entered the office. lie the I placed in my hand tift?n dollar*, which waa unwilling to accept, as 1 well knew had not one-third of that sum owing t me, but he pressed me to receivo all, an then informed me that ho was in a day c two to leave the city for a few months o a tour, and that he wished to ir.troduc me to his saecesaor, who would till h plaoo during his alwence, and that I inui again write for the papor. Tears sprang to my eyea, for I thowg) 1 should never wish to write again no that she to whom my production* gave much pleasure could no longer read ther i He probably divined my thoughts for takI j ing my baud, be spoke kindly and Booth* i j ingly to me, and nbke<l mc where 1 was I sojourning, and what were my prospects. :! He regretted that bo had not sooner ! known of my sorrows, and bade mc when J he returned to call upon him, for lie should I ; feel interested in tnv welfare. 1 bad nevI 1 er wished to be known as a writer, so Mr. L K. merely introduced mo to Mr. bl , i his successor, as "our contributor. Mr. G. was a very pleaasiit man, and I I "hoped I would call often." As Mr. 11. I | escorted me to the door ho bade me adieu f; for the present, and told, mo not to fearto t' carry my manuscripts, or call for the pay , when I desired it, for, said he, "1 have evt er made you an exception in sending to t you, but ou had better now come your* r self." 1 lliied me home with a grateful heart, , but a feeling of deep sadness possessed > me, that I could not as ever before, wits ness the smile of joy on my mother's face, at.my success. It was sometime before 1 | I ventured to carry a manuscript, indeed i it was not without a great struggle to r 1 calm my iniud, that 1 could write at all; 1 ! but when I did commence, mv old love ', i for it returned in full force, and for hours c 1 would I sit in my small room and write. My occupation bad always been distaste* 0 ful to me, and now that the motive 1 had e in helping my parents was removed, it was 1 double distasteful, but still far preferable r to id'eness. i, Mrs. lJrown wondered I did not have d so much sewing na usual, and wondered n ' 4oo, why I shut myself in my room so <t ] much, ami when one day, for the dozenth t i time, she had opened my door to see what d I 1 was about, and found ino ever writing, v I she desired to know what it meant; and i- on condition that she would keep my seie J cret, 1 told her all. Somehow I had al d j ways shrunk from having it known that 1 to | wrote for the press. The old lady was iv j quite surprised, and to gratify her curiosi <i iv, i nau to rc;ui 10 ner several 01 my proLit ' ductions. ) "Well, child," said she, "don't mako ir any more of them dresses, but buy up a d w nolo lot of paper, and write all the time. Ii Why, if my lie.nl had half as much in it s' I as youru, I'd write a heap o' things but h i I'm too old now." d J It was not long after, when <Joorgo 1- Hrown, the old lady's sou of whom 1 have : spoken, returned from a short voyage >- 1 which he had made, and soon after his atn tentions to ine became guile annoying.? y ! lie was a coarse, ill-bread fellow, and 1 g : could not in the least like him. lie, howi', ever, did not care for my dislike, aud cont { tinned to importune ire with his address| es, and I had guile made up my mind to n j lind another boarding-place, for I did not r- ! like to speak to bis mother upon thesub: 1 ject, as I had my suspicions he was end couraged by her, when 1 received a letter iu from my old school-master, Mr.C . o He wrote that he had learned from Mr. c- , ii with whom lie hud accidentally y met, about the loss of my parents, and <1 urged me to go immediately to him ; lie i! | had procured mc a situation as assistant n 1 in a school, if I liked to accept it, and at j any rate he wished me to pass some g months iu his family ; he also inclosed a II sum of money, more than sufficient to do' fray the expenses of tho journey. I did | not hesitate to accept his kind offer, and y I I was soon an inmate of his family, and 0 ; teaching, iu a largo school. it 1 continued very happily with Mr. it I (.' for several months, when the 1 school which had crentlv increase*) ii\ numbers, was divided into two denart% incuts, with one teacher over each. 1 was it; thus thrown out of employment as a teachv or, for one of the committee placed a sise tor of his over the new school, considering 11 as he said, that 1 was too young to havo is { the sole charge of a school. 1 was then it nearly seventeen. i- i Mrs. C 's health at that time was 0 so delicate, that she w;is advisod to leavo i- home and travel in the south; and ali though my kind friends regretted it exy ceedingly, I resolved to go directly back il to 1? , preferring logo there, than d to stopping where 1 was comparatively a r- stranger. io | The day proceeding my starting for d l'? , I attended church, and heard n a discoiirso that interested me beyond any ft ' sermon I ever listened to. The preacher n ! was a stranger, and a very Him looking i*. | young man. I was much struck with his h 1 appearance, but full as much so with his r j discourse. Tins subject w as, "The Agony ft of Christ in the tiurden." My iniud was >r j much impressed by the sermon, and tlu? 's ; chapicnt style in which it was delivered, e and that night I w rote the whole subject e | of the discourse in the form of a unrativo !-! bringing all my imagination to bear upo \ on the scene in the Ciurdcn of Gelbse i* mane. n [to rk roKci.i'RKn. | W The editor of h country paper thus o humorously bid* farewell tohi* reader*:'! he i| sherifl is waiting for ua in the next room, ,r so wa have no opportunity to be pathetic, n Mr. NabVmanya wo are wanted and must e tfo. 1 delinquent subscriber*, you have is much to answer for. Heaven may forit giro you, but I never cau.n it A machine has just hecn invented in w Ohio for the manufacture of tnatchca. It w> will turn out 20,OOO per minute. Old n. maid* plense notice.