Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 28, 1856, Image 1
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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
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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