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; * 7; r v; ' v." . ^ ^ ^ SSSS gg ^ ?= ? ^ gag ^ ^ SntSr jpropneton- An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. junro u. sun, '* ^ VOL. Q. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBEUAEY 28, 1856. ISTO.^.r jj . : : " r ? ". . w Cjwite f ffeirg. OH t NO, FM NOT OLD. BY UBS. FEAXCES D. GAQE. 0! no, I'm not old, though the age fro9t is cresting With silvery rim my once "bonny brown" hair, And wide and deep furrows are quietly resting On my brow, just to tell that long years have been there. 01 no, I'm not old,though my footsteps are growing More feeble and slow, and my laugh less gay, And the rose on my cheek hath long since ceaesd its glowing, And my eyes grow more dim, and my strength flies away. Though the rose from my lip and my oheek has departed, On the face of my first-born 'tis resting fullblown, And Ifeel, when I see her 90 kind and true-hearted, It is sweeter by far than it was on my own. 0! no, I'm not old; Time hath never oppressed me, Though he filch'd formy Mary the brown of my hair, And the glance of her eye, as but now she caress'd me, Showed the light of my own was but lingering there. I have given my strength to my boys who are bounding The ball, with fleet limbs, on the hill side to-day, And their light pealing laugh to mine ear hath a sounding As my own used to have in the sunshine of May. 0! no, I'm not old; though I lent all my graces, My vigor and strength for the toil and the strife, To those loved ones of mine, who must soon take their places, And go forth to tight in the battle of life. But 0! if unflinching they go forth to duty, > Ever fearless and free, and with heart true and brave, My spirit will dwell in a temple of beauty, More brilliant by far than youth ever gave. 0! no, I'm not old; though the frame is decaying, To me that within it is buoyant and strong, And I trust while on earth 'tis its lot to be straying, That virtue and love will its freshness prolong. The beauty of nature, its bud and its blossom, The song of the bird and the sunset's deep glow. Are as sweet to my eye and as dear to my bosom As they were in the6pring-time of life long ago. i 01 no, I'm not old; 'tis not wrinkles nor furrows, Nor the number of years that should shroud us in gloom; 1 But the blighting of hope, 'mid life's trials and S01T0W9, May wither the heart rill it longs for the tomb, i Baric nassinrm or wroncr have mv snirit ne'er i shrouded; In the circle of home there is no vacant chair ; My life with misfortune has never been clouded: Why should I be old, and bow down in despair? ! But should guilt, crime, and shame, fold in sorrow ; and sadness One loved one of mine?then my pulse would 1 gTOW cold ; My spirit no longer soar upward in gladness : 0! then I'd be weary, and way-worn, and old. % Storg uf Jlcaipfc. THE REflUUTWS DAUGHTER. CONTINUED FROM LAST WEF.K. CHAPTER III. "Who are you, and what do you want here?" demanded a tall dark haired man, who stood at a table directly opposite to the door at which the peddler entered. "Don't you know Isaiah Ketchum ?" gasped that worthy, who was too much excited to answer more than one question at a breath. "Ah, yes, I recollect you now," returned Lowden, whose speech the interruption had cut Bhort. "Well, what do you want ?" "I want my money!" the frightened merchant almost screamed ; for haste, fear and agitation had left in his mind but this one idea. "Nobody here owes you any thing," returned Lowden angrily ; "and if they did, this is not the time to demand it." "I'nr not dunning anybody! I've been robbed -robbed!" "That altera the case," said Lowden. "That alters the case mightily!" echoed several voices. "Who robbed you?and when, and where, and of what?" demanded Lowden. "Stop your gasping, and tell us what you mean." Very incoherently, but still in such a manner as to enable men of their quick perceptions to understand him, the agitated merchant proceeded to relate how he had hidden his money, how he had observed a man watching him, as he supposed, aud?slurring over the reason why he had, after this, left the denosit. for he saw that Bolton was nre sent?bow he had been warned of danger, which was so soon realized. "The man that was watching me," he continued, "I saw passing along east of the house, not ten minutes ago, and I think he can be caught yet." "Who is he ?" was demanded by several voices. "He called himself Thornton," answered Ketchum. A look of embarrassment went round the room; for, much as they resented Thornton's refusal to join them, few were inclined to ; credit the charge. In their state of excite-1 ment, however, but a slight matter was suf- j ficient to direct the current; and this impulse j was given by Bolton : "Let us pursue him at once," he sugges-1 ted, in a loud voice; and the motion was sec- j onded by at least a dozen men. "Hold, gentlemen !" shouted Tilford, springing upon a bench ; " let us not act rashly. There is not a man here, who knows Thornton, that believes him capable of any such crime; and, for my part, 1 will not be a party to a course which I consider highhanded and oppressive." Had this speech come from Lowden, his authority might have made it effectual; but I^MCilferd was too young a man, and had been anong them too short a time, to have much eight. A single voice only?and that, unnunately, the voice of the youngest man \pug them, Lowden's son?expressed eonVence in what he said. The larger part he company hastily donned their arms wooutrements, and already several were walking hastily toward the stables, to mount their horses. "Currie," said Tilford to young Lowden, as they stood together near the stable, taking no part in the preparation, "I don't like this going off half-cocked : I have a presentiment that harm will come of it." "Thornton never stole that money," said Currie decidedly; "but how are we to make it appear?" They were interrupted by Currie's younger brother, a lad of ten years. "Nellie wants you," he said to his brother, \ "and she says I am to stay with Mr. Tilford f and watch Tom Bolton." ^ "Precisely what I was thinking of," ex- j claimed the two in a breath: without wait- I ing further to compare notes, Currie hasten- t ed toward the house, while Tilford and the t boy entered the stables, and guided by the light of a lantern, for it was now dark, sought I for Bolton. 1 <>Tho.*nton is innocent, Currie," were Nel- s lie's first words, as her brother approached the spot where she was walking up and down ^ in great agitation. t "I'm sure of it," said Currie ; "but we c can't make the company believe it without t some evidence." ^ "Will they bring him here ?" she asked, s "Of course; but how can we shield him c then ?" fi "I will shield him with my own body !" 1 she exclaimed; "hehasbeen wronged enough 'J already." 1 Her brother gazed at her in surprise ; lie r had never before seen her so much excited, t and his spirit felt rebuked in the presence I of a passion deeper than his conceptions. n "Where is Bolton ?" she suddenly demanded ; but, without waiting for a reply, went j on : "Go you to the stables?send George | c to me?take Tilford and follow the company ?protect Thornton as if he were your brother! Go; they may commit some high- d handed outrage before you can be present." o Currie was two years her senior, but the 1 high, stern spirit, which so suddenly devel- u oped itself, overmastered him; and, without b even asking a question, he hurried off to 1 obey her rapid and peremptory orders. "The villian 1" she exclaimed, as she 1J heard the loud, arrogant voice of Bolton calling the company together and dying in the 0 distance, as they galloped away toward the C south. "But the fowler shall be taken in ti his own net!" she added, setting her teeth " hard and turning toward the house. She y had scarcely crossed the threshold, when, to 81 her astonishment, her father entered. His * brow was knit as in thought, and his motion d denoted mental conflict. a "Father," she exclaimed impulsively, and 11 with roproaeh in hor tone, "who fills your post in the company ?" a "How does that concern you?" he de- j11 manded sternly, perhaps glad to direct to- j11 ward another his dissatisfaction with himself. I "Go to your chamber, and don't let me see ; ^ you out again before sunrise." j I Implicit obedienee had been the first les- j s son of Nellie's childhood, and, though her' 1 impulse was toward rebellion now, she knew ; b her father too well, loved him too deeply, to j c risk open defiance. But she met her broth-1 er George at the door as she passed out, and j 'J drew him silently into her chamber. j n "Who commands the company to-nightJ t she asked, as she closed the door. i a "Bolton," replied the lad. "Father di- v rected him to seize Thornton and bring him i here forthwith." h "George," said she, after a few moments' reflection, "steal out to the stables, and put li my saddle upon Jenny j then saddle a horse c for vourself. and brin? them both round to ^ / O the stile. I will meet you there in twenty i minutes." e George hesitated, but her tone was too im- j perious to be gainsaid, and the proceeding 1 was one which appealed to his boyish nature, ii He crept stealthily out, and proceeded to exe- i p cute her command. j a In the-mean time, afterclearing the inclosures of Lowden's farm, the Regulators, led h by Bolton, galloped tumultuously along the l road toward Thornton's h'ouse. Bottles of: e spirits had been circulating freely among them during the whole day, though without I n much visible effect; the access of this new excitement inflamed the latent fire of the j a liquid, flasks of which were still passing from b hand to hand, preparing the reckless hand y for any outrage. Tilford and Currie Lowden s rode together in the rear, silent and anxious, unwillingly accompanying the disorderly t mob, but doing so in hope that some oppor- a tuuity might offer to be of service to Thornton. According to Nellie's direction, too, i they were watching Bolton; but, beyond his n excessive zeal to arrest Thornton, they saw , nothing unusual in his manner. i 1 i . Some of them yelling like savages, and jc others silent with the closed lips and knit j brows of deadly purpose, they dashed across I o the stream, and, gaining the open ground, J t urged their horses again to a pace which ! a must soon bring them to Thornton's house, j 'J "If Bolton's horse should fall and break i \ his master's neck," said Currie, "it might! f save an inuocent man's life." j jj "Such lucky accidents but seldom hap- j ^ pen," Tilford replied. "But you don't sup- jk pose they will dare to take Thornton's life ?" i * "They have done worse things than that," j1 Currie said. 1* "Scarcely, I should think," his compan- j a ion answered ; "but what are we to do if j they attempt it ?" j \ "Resist them to the knife !" said Currie . t fiercely. j c "We must get them to take him back to 11 the house, if possible," returned Tilford.? j c " But who is lagging behind here ?" he ad- j s ded, observing a single horseman who had ; j dropped out of the crowd, and now rode but 1 a few paces before theru. i "Tt's Ketchum, I believe," said Currie. t "Then there's a chance to save him yet." i They put spurs to their horses, and in a few j moments brought them up to the peddler, '< who had fallen back, because either his cour- t age or horse was flagging. } ' 'Halt, here!" Tilford commanded periinptorily; and, seizing Ketchum's bridle, be irought him up so suddenly as almost to ritch the poor "merchant" over his Itosilantc's head. Without waiting even for he rider to recover his seat, he turned him ound and continued : "Do you ride back low, as fast as your horse can carry you, and vait at the house for our return. Go!" he epeated, as the peddler hesitated, "or I'll mmmel the breath out of you." Ketchum had not much stomach for the vork he was upon, or, it may be, that Tilord's threat had more influence; at all e ents, thus urged, he made the best speed ret left in his tired steed toward Lowden's touse; while his captors, after watching him ill he disappeared iu the gloom, turned once nore to follow the company. "If we can induce them to take Thornton >ack," Tilford said, "I think we may save lim; and they can hardly do otherwise now, inee thev have nn witness scrainst him." Before Currie could express the doubt vhich arose in his mind?for he was far beter acquainted than his companion with the iharacter of the men they had to deal with? he company had turned into the open space rhich led to Thornton's house, and a fierce hout of triumph announced that tbev had ivertaken their victim. The two friends ur;ed their horses to a run, afid a few moments irought them to the tumultuous scene.? Phornton was just crossing the stile, which ed to the door-yard when the excited crowd ode up; and comprehending by their wild hreats that he was about to fall into the lands of a drunken mob, he stepped down, nd, turning, brought his gun to his shouller. "I'll kill the first man that attempts to ross that stile," he said, with a sterness [uite foreign to his character. "Shoot him ! Shoot the thieving sounIrel!" was echoed on all sides, and in an-, ther moment his life had been lost. But Gilford and Currie now dashed into the tunult at a full run, the former's horse not ringing up until his breath almost fanned" .'hornton's face. "Hold!" he shouted; "for God's sake, old!" "Shoot him, too!" commanded Bol[>u; and the ruffian was about to put his wn order into execution, when a blow from !urrie's stalwart arm brought him heavily to he ground, his gun going off harmlessly in he air. He rose immediately to his feet, rith a dangerous knife in his hand, and pringing with the fury of a wild beast toward Currie, would probably have cut him own. But the swaying of the crowd separted them; and, several of the more sober nterposing, his rage was partially quieted. iiRpgnlatnrs !" on?> of ttioco, re not here to quarrel among ourselves; let is proceed with business, and settle other aattere another time." Fearful of losing his precarious authority __ - II ! x 1 x. J y anowing anoiner 10 assume commanu, ?olton acquiesced, and walked up to the tile, where Tilfard was in negotiation with Mioruton, whose mother and sister, alarmed y the noise, had rushed out and were now lingiug frightened to his arras. "You had better go with me, Thornton," Gilford urged. "These men are bent on aischief, and it needs but a little resistance o exasperate them beyond hope. But go long quietly to Lowden's, and I think you pill be safe." "Go, brother?oh ! go with him," urged lis sister; "I am sure Mr. Tilford is right ?I am sure he will protect you!" and she ifted her streaming eyes appealingly to the hivalrous young Virginian's. "I will, with my life!" he exclaimed, as n answer to the glance of those beautiful yes. "I shall not need your protection, I hope," Thornton said coldly, and then hastened, as f conscious of the ungraciousness of the re>ly, to add, "for innocence requires no hield." His sister dropped the arm she had been lolding, and timidly advancing to Tilford, ook his hand, and, her voice trembling with motion, hesitatingly said: "Let me thank you, then?since he will lOt." "No thanks need be given for a simple ct of justice," Tilford said, holding her iand and gazing into her eyes; "but, for our sake, I'll protect him even against himelf." * "What'sall this about?" demanded Bolon roughly, advancing toward Thornton, and ttempting to seize him. "Stop a moment, Bolton," said Tilford, nterposing. "He agrees to go along with is without resistances?and this is enough." "I agree to go upon one condition," said rhornton?"that I shall not be bound or lisarmed." "Xo, no, no!" came hoarsely from several ?f the Regulators, and, at the same moment, wo of them sprang suddenly upon him, and ittempted to wrest his gun out of his hands filford and Currie rushed in, each armed rith a knife, but the latter received a blow rom a gun-barrel, which bore him to the ground, and the former, though struggling iercely, was overpowered and dragged away. Several guns exploded in the vxch, though ortunatcly without injury; Thornton was lashed rudely upon his face, and, in less ime than it takes to relate it, was disarmed md securely piuioned. Tilford soon shook himself clear of those vho held him; but one glance satisfied him hat further interference now would be not >nly ineffectual but injurious to Thornton.? :Ie therefore turned to Lucy and her moth;r, who had beeu roughly thrust aside, and tood weeping and wringhng their hands, ust out of the tumult. He took them each )y the hand, and with such words as came laturally from a tender and gentle heart, led hem away into the house. Lucy listened vith a faith which, perhaps, she would have ;iven to no other voice; and, when she wiped iway her tears, and expressed both by word ind look the confidence she felt, the gallant poung Virginian's heart was touched, and * he was more than ever resolved to justify her reliance. ?I must leave you now," he said, resuming the hand which he had for a moment relinquished, "and ride with your brother to Lowden's. Do not let your fears overcome you, for, in three hours from this time I shall bring him back safe and sound." As he spoke, he drew the soft-eyed beauty closer, and imprinted a kiss upon her forehead?a liberty which the mother was too much distressed to notice, and the daughter too grateful to resist. Perhaps this conscience rebuked him for his appearent infidelity to Nellie, for, without awaiting fur%r converse, hurried out, and was soon gallopping along the road in pursuit of the noisy cavalcade. The point selected for the halt, was a point of heavy timber, through which the road passed; and the underbrush and fallen limbs enabled them soon to kindle a large, bright fire. This done, Bolton seated himself upon a log?the prisoner was brought up, and the company closed in a circle round their leader. "Where's the peddler ?" demanded the latter. Each one glanced around the circle? Ketchum was not there, and there was no evidence. But the difficulty was easily obviated. "Tie him up and lynch him till be confesses,'' some one suggested. "Gentlemen," said Thornton calmly, speak ingnow for the first time, "I will confess no false charge if you should burn me in that fire ! And I give you warning now, that the man who touches me in that manner I will kill!" A laugh of derision passed around the group?to defy such men was only to invite outrage. In thirty seconds he was stripped to the waist, his arms drawn forcibly around a tree, and his naked back was presented to the torture. The victim awaited the blows in silence. CHAPTER IV. But another difficulty arose. There was probably not more than one of the company who was not fully convinced of Thornton's guilt. In their excitement?which, with the majority of them, had been inflamed by spirits, they were willing to proceed to extreme measures; but, while no witness might be had, their notions of legal procedure, vague as they were, rendered each one unwilling, individually, to assume the responsibility, by striking the first blow. Perhaps another consideration had some weight.? Few, if any, were willing to take Thornton's life; and there was ii_debdly coolness in the muuucr of lila WHTUing, nlliuli mailt; tavli pause, if not retreat, before iecurring an undying hatred, which could be quenched only in blood. An awkward silence ensued, in which each man looked into his neighbor's face, and irresolution began to sap their courage. One or two commenced timidly to suggest that, perhaps after all, they had better proceed to Lowden's, when Bolton broke furiously in, with a blasphemous im precation, which we do not care to write: "Are you all turned cowards!" exclaimed he, springing to his feet. "I'll do it myself, then?since you are nfraid!" He seized a long hickory withe, whioh had been cut and trimmed for the purpose, and, advancing toward Thornton, with this uplifted in the act of striking, insolently demanded? "Will you confess, you thieving scoundrel?" Thornton turned his head so as to look him full in the face. "Bolton," he said, with the same coolness as before, "you have it in your power, if these men will allow themselves to he governed by you, to work your will for the present. But I warn you now, that you must either take my life, or lose your own !" In the pause which ensued, while Bolton held the withe suspended in the air, Tilford, who lay with his ear to the ground, heard, at a distance, the clatter of hoofs upon the road. Quick as thought he interposed, to gain time. "Bolton," he hastily cried, "before you strike, let me make a charge against you.? Regulators," he continued, "this money was stolen by Bolton himself, and he is only directing suspicion toward another, in order that he may escape it. If you will force him to wait ten minutes, it shall be proved here." The accusation was well timed, though made bo far as Tilford knew, without evidence. Astonishment suspended the blow for a moment, until reflection showed the furious leader that he had now no alternative but to submit, at least for the ten minutes. Several of the cooler men now interfered, willing to see the proceedings arrested in any way, but incredulous of Tilford's charge. Bolton burst into a loud, affected laugh, thus covering his impotent rage. Eut his cheek blanched, and the loud words of defiance sunk back into his throat, when, upon the noise dying away, the galloping of several horses was heard immediately at hand. The next moment Nellie Lowden, with her two brothers and the peddler, dashed within the circle of light, and springing hastily to the ground, pointed to Bolton and exclaimed? "Arrest this man?I accuse him of robbery!" "You aro my prisoner," said Currie, laying his hand upon his shoulder at the 6ame moment. The discomfited ruffian aimed a blow at Currie's head, but his arm was seized from the other side, and a few moments were sufficient to bind him as securely as he had bound Thornton. Nellie stood watching the process, her fine figure dilating in the lurid light of the fire, and her eyes flashing with tho roused spirit within. "Now, where is Thornton ?" she demanded, in a voice which rang through the silent forest like a silver bell. Some of the Regulators had already released him, and, having resumed his clothes, he stepped forward into the light. Nellie's fierce spirit melted away?with a cry she rushed into his arms, and, laying her head upon his shoulder, wept like a child. "Oh, Basil! Basil she sobbed, "how much wrong you have endured in a day!" "I can forgive it all now, Nellie," he said, taking her hand between his two hands, and pressing his lips to her forehead. "And me, too? and?and Tilford," she added in a whisper. "Yes, yes?all?he replied; "and this reminds me that Tilford is a prisoner and?" "Not nnw." said the latter, rinse tn his side, "thanks to Currie's promptness. And I see that Currie's sister has severed other bonds that held me, besides the Regulator's halterf*" lie smiled significantly as he spoke, and glanced at her hand, which still rested upon Thornton's arm. A warm blush overspread her face; she drew her hand hastily away, and beckouing to Tilford, passed out of earshot. The latter followed her, smiling pleasantly, and, when she stopped and seemed to hesitate how to begin the conference, he frankly said? "I know what you would say, Nellie, and will save you the trouble. You mean that you were mistaken when you supposed that ! you loved me, and that Thornton was really the happy man he aspired to be, after all.? Is it not so?" "Yes," she replied; "but you must not suppose that I?" "0, no, I'll suppose nothing to disparage you," he interrupted; "especially as I might be arraigned upon the same charge." "What do you mean ?" she asked in surprise. "I mean," he said, still smiling, "that, like yourself, I was already thinking of a return to my first love; and I hope to be forgiven for my infidelity, only because I encountered so great a temptation to wander." "I shall not plead the same excuse, though I see your vaniiy expects it," she replied, with a laugh of relief. "But who is this first love," who seems now to have become the third?"; "I will ask her brother whether he would like to be placed in the same category," Tilford said, recalling the blush to Nellie's face. "Lucy Thornton, it is? Well, give me your hand, and let us be mutually forgiven. I have little doubt that you will be a hap. pier man with her than you could have been with me." "And you are very sure that the same is true of yourself and Basil ?" "Perfectly sure," she replied archly.? "But let us see what these men are going to do TVttli "Rolfon " They approached the group about the fire, accordingly, both well satisfied with the result of their brief conference. The Regulators had by this time, though Currie and his younger brother, been informed of the main position of the evidence against Bolton. Nellie bad seen a man answering his description spring over the fence at the time of the theft j George was in the field adjoining, and ascertained his identity, as well as the fact that he was carrying a package answering a certain description; Ketchum ideutitied this as his money, and testified, also, to the probability that Bolton had seen him hide it; Nellie had seen Thornton on the, other side of the farm, so soon after the robbery that, unless he had crossed the field where George was, he could not have passed over the space within the time, and George testified that, on the contrary, he came down the fence considerably to the north; and, finally, the whole company knew that Bolton had come hastily into the council-room, scarcely one minute before Ketchum announced the theft. "Will you confess, and tell us where the money is?" The harsh voice of Bolton muttered in reply, and then came the terrible sounds of cruel and repeated stripes, mingled with howls of agony and rage. To these succeeded screams of breaking courage, and, before they could hurry out of hearing, the ? . t_ _ .1 i. M I* strong man s voice naa aiea into a wan, iar more dreadful than any outburst of passion. "This is too horrible !" exclaimed Nellie, with a shudder. "Is there no way to prevent such cruelty ?" "You have prevented it once to-night," said Tilford, "and now you can guess what you saved Thornton from. It is but justice, after all, to give him the draught he mixed for another." "It may be so," she answered, "but it rather seems cruelty to me." She placed her hand in Thornton's as she spoke, and, with his assistance, bounded into the saddle. The young men then mounted, and a few moments took them out of hearing, and left the fierce band to administer, unmolested, their own wild law. They took the road to Thornton's and, as they turned into the lane, the strong light which streamed through the wide-open door revealed-the figure of Lucy, standing upon the stile, gazing anxiously toward the grove. .Tilford spurred forward, leaving Nellie and Thornton to follow at their leisure, and, dashing up tojthe fence, sprang from his saddle to the stile at her side. "Where is Basil?where is ray brother ?" were her first anxious words. "He is well and safe?he will he here immediately," he hastily replied, and then, grasping her hand, led her down from the stile and continued : "I havo kept-my promise to you: now I want you to make one to me." "What is it ?" she asked, trembling with mingled joy and fear. "To be my wife tQ-morrow, and to love me ever after." "To-morrow 1" she exclaimed? "Well, well," he interrupted hurriedly, happy at the implied consent to the main point, "some other day?your own time? only promise, quick, before they come up! Come, will you Bay yes, and fix your own day ?" The hand, which had been withdrawn in aurprise, she now rcplaood in his. "I ought to say no," she said smilingly, "to punish you for taking me by surpise j but?in fact?" "In fact, you cannot do it," he interrupt ed. "Be candid \ that's what you mean? isn't it ?" She made no^answer: he drew her hastily to his bosom, and repeated the caress of two hours before. "Gracious! Lucy ! What is all this ?" exclaimed her mother, who had expected to find that it was Basil who folded her daughter thus fondly in hisarms, and now, on discovering her mistake all aghast. "Nothing, madam," Tilford answered, covering Luoy's embarrassment, except that instead of one son, you have two?for Lucy is to be my wife to-morrow, if you consent." "The scene shifts rapidly," laughed Nellie, who rode up with Basil and overheard the last words. "And the curtain ought to drop nowr" said Thornton, lifting Nellie in his arms from the saddle, for no better grouping than this can be imagined. On the following Tuesday there was a double wedding, accompanied by such feasting and hilarity as have not since been known in that "settlement." And the light of that glorious summer day still streams upon the pathway of those who then pledged faith and love to one another, and their happiness is as serene in the autumn of their lives as was the sunset of their wedding-day. Interesting pisceHang LIFE. BY CIIABLOTTE BRONTE. Life, believe, is not a dream So dark as sages say; Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day. Sometimes there are clouds of gloom, But these are transient all; If the shower will make the roses bloom, 0 why lament its fall ? liapidly, merrily, Life's sunny hours flit by : Gratefully, cherily, Enjoy them as they fly! What though Death at time steps in, And calls our best away ? What though sorrow seems to win, O'er Hope, a heavy sway ? Vet Hope, again, elastic springs, Unconquered, though she fell; Still buoyant are her golden wings, Still strong to bear us well, Manfully, fearlessly, The day of trial bear, For gloriously, victoriously, Can courage quell despair ! From Macaulay's History of England. THE LAST DAYS OP JEFFEBYS. were mentioned in the course of these inquiries wnsnnp wlin sfcnnd alone and nnannroach ed in guilt and infamy, and whom whigs and toriea were equally willing to leave to the extreme rigor of the law. On that terrible day which was succeeded by the Irish night, the roar of a great city disappointed of its revenge had followed Jefferys to the drawbridge of the Tower. His imprisonment was not strictly legal; but he at first accepted with thanks and blessings the protection which those dark walls, made famous by so many crimes and sorrows, afforded him against the fury of the multitude. Soon, however, he became sensible that his life was still in imminent peril. For a time he flattered himself with the hope that a writ of habeas corpus would liberate him from his confinement, and that he should be nble to steal away to some foreign country, and to hide himself with part of his ill-gotten wealth from the detestation of mankind ; but till the government was settled, there was no court competent to grant a writ of habeas corpus; and as soon as the government had been settled, the habeas corpus act was suspended. Whether the legal guilt of murder could be brought home to Jefferys may be doubted. #But he was morally guilty of so many murders, that if there had been no other way of reaching his life, a retrospective Act of Attainder would have been clamorously demanded by the whole nation. A disposition to triumph over the fallen has never been one of the besetting sins of Englishmen ; but the hatred of which Jefferys was the object was without a parallel in our history, and partook but too largely of the savageness of his own nature. The people, where he was concerned, were as cruel as himself, and exulted in his misery as he had been accustomed to exult in the misery of convicts listening to the sentence of death, and of families clad in mourning. The rabble congregated before his deserted *rv ? .1 i .. 1 it . J mansion in uune-ec., ana reaa on me aoor with shouts of laughter the bills which announced the sale of his property. Even the delicate women, who had fears for highwaymen and housebreakers, breathed nothing but vengeance against him. The lampoons on him which were hawked about the town were distinguished by an atrocity rare even in those days. Hanging would be too mild a death for him ; a grave under the gibbet too respectable a resting place ; he ought to be whipped to death at the cart's tail\ he ought to be tortured like an Indian j he ought to be devoured alive. The street poets portioned out all his joints with cannibal ferocity, and computed how many pounds of steak might be out from his well fattened carcase. Nay, the rage of his enemies was such that in language seldom heard in England they proclaimed their wish that he might go to the place of wailing and gnashing of teeth, to the worm that never dies, to the fire that is never quenched. They exhorted him to hang himself in his garters, and to cut his throat with a razor. They put 1 M l It.! up uornuie prsjcru iiiiii uu uu^uv uvw to repent, that he might die the same hard hearted, wicked Jefferys, that he had lived. His spirit, as mean in adversity as insolent and inhuman in prosperity, sank down under the load of public abhorrence. His constitution, originally bad, and muoh impaired by intemperance, was completely broken by distress and anxiety. % All He was tormented by a cruel internal dis?, -jjj& & ease, which the most skillful surgeons of that'~ " age were seldom able to relieve. Oneiolaice was left to him?brandy. Even when luf had causes to try and councils to attend hejgffi. had seldom gone to bed sober. Now, when he had nothing to occupy bis mind, save ter- rible recollections and terrible forebodings,, he abandoned himself without reserve to his. v favorite vice. Many believed him to be bent -' * on shortening his life by excess. He thought it better, they said, to go off in a drunken fit than to be backed by Ketch, or torn limb from limb by the populace. Once he was roused from a state of abje# despondency by an agreeable sensatiota* speedily followed by a mortifying disappoints ment. A parcel had been left for him at " , , the' Tower. It appeared to be a barrel of * * Colchester oysters, his favorite dainties. He <??; ? was greatly moved; for there are moments when those who least deserve affection are ,v % pleased to think that they in?$)ireit. "Thank God," he exclaimed, "I have still some friends left." He opened the barrel; and * from among a heap of shells out tumbled, a stout halter. v " It does not appear that one of the flatterers or buffoons, whom he had enriched out v' of the plunder of his victims, came to comfort him in the day of trouble. But he was f. y? not left in utter solitude. John Tutchin, whom he had sentenced to b.e flogged every ? fortnight for seven years, made his way into the Tower, and presented himself before the . fallen oppressor. Poor JefferjB, humbled to the dust, behaved with abject civility, and; called for wine. "I am glad, Bir," he said, ?to see you." "And I am glad," answered the resentful whig, "to see your lordship in ' this place." "I served my master," said Jefferys: "I was bound in conscience to do". . so." "Where was your conscience," said . --. Tutchin, "when you passed that,sentence ou me at Dorchester ?" "It 'was set down iu my instructions," answered Jefferys, fowningly, "that I was to show no meroy to men like you, men of parts and courage. When. I went back to court, I was reprimanded for c-. my lenity." i Even Tutchin, acrimonious as was his nature, and ereat as were his wrones. seems to. have been a little mollified by the pitiable spectacle which he had at firet contemplated with vindictive pleasure. -Tie always denied the truth of the report that he was the per* son who sent the Colchester barrel to the #r tower. A more benevolent man, John Sharp, the i excellent Dean of Norwich, forced himself to visit the prisoner. It was a painful task, but Sharp had been treated by Jefferys, in ' old times, as kindly as it was the nature of the storm of curses and invectives had sped? itself, and by dexterously seizing the. moment of good humor, to obtain for unhappyfamilies some mitigation of their sufferings. The ~ prisoner was surprised anff pleased. "What!'* he said, "dare you own me now V It was in vain, however, that the amiable divine tried to give a salutary pain to that seared conscience. Jefferys, instead of acknowledging his guilt, exclaimed vehemently against the injustice of mankind. "Peo- pie call me murderer for doing what at the time was applauded by some*who are now high in public favor. They call me & drunkard because I take punch to relieve me -in my agonyHe would not admit that, President of the High Commission, he had done anything that deserved reproach. -His colleagues, he said, were the real criminals; and now they threw all the blame on him. - A He spoke with peculiar asperity of Spratt, who had undoubtedly been die most humane and moderate member of the Board. It soon became clear.that the wicked judg$ was fast sinking under the weight of bodily. aod mental suffering. Dr. John Scott, prebendary of Saint Paul's a clergyman of greet sanctity, and author of the Christian Life,, a ) treatise once widely renowned, was summon* ed, probably on the recommendation of his intimate friend. Sharp, to the bedside of the dying man. It was in vain, however, that Scott spoke, as Sharp had already spoken of the hideous butcheries of Dorchester and Taunton. To the last, Jefferys continued * to repeat that those who thought him cruel did not know what his orders were, that he deserved praise instead of blame, and that his clemency had drawn on him the extreme displeasure of his master. . ? ~ . .. . ; Disease, assisted by strong drink and misery, did its work fast. The patient's stomach rejected all nouriahment. Be dwindled in a few weeks from a portly and even corpulent man to a skeleton. On the 18th of April he died, in the 41st year of his age.? He had been Chief Justice of the King's Bench at 35, and Lord Chancellor at 37.? In the whole history of the English bar there is no other instance of so rapid an ele ration, or of so terrible a tail. The emaciated corpse was laid, with all privacy, next to the corpse of Monmoath, in the chapel of the Tower. When to Wear India Rubbers.?We have noticed that many persons wear India rubber overshoes in cold, dry weather, to keep their feet warm. This is an injurious and evil practice, ndia rubber shoes are very comfortable and valuable for covering the feet during wet, sloppy weather, but they should never be worn on any other occasion?their sole use should be to keep out water. They should, therefore, be put off whenever the wearer enters a house, and be worn as little as possible, because they are nir-ticht. and both retain and restrain the ?o / perspiration of the feet The air cannot be excluded from them, or from any other portion of the body for any length of time without sensibly affecting the health. It is our opinion that no habit tends more to good. health than clean feet and olean dry stockings, so as to allow the free perspiration of the nether extremities.?Scientific American. r The fool fell in lore with a lady's laoed apron