Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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... " I - - ? . . ... . ' . / Pi , .-i-"! ?* ? ^ '*X' -? jr.'"" . * ... , . * 1 "' ' ' * -*>. - * -. ' * -* V 4-v*-; '\ 'W - . v \ ** *. >? * /y ' "" - - - SVSk,[proprietors. in Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. jlewism.grist,pubii?hm. VOL. 2~ YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 85, 1856. :3SrO/5Q. (?jmte IpotcriK From the Philadelphia Bulletin. HOOPS. BY A COOrCR. Hoops on barrels, kegs ani pails, Hoops on boxes, tubs and bales, Are articles indispensable? But hoops as they puff out womna's dress, Making the woman look so much less, Are things most indefensible. Hoops, wkeu their sturdy clasp confines, In brown old casks the richest wines, Are objects of admiration? But hoops as part of woman's baggage. , Are like the whoops of a painted savage, A vile abomination. IIoops mate usofu', pretty toys, For active little girls and boys. But hoops on jromau gjntle Are things to sneer at and to scoff, And like the whoop of a whooping-cough, Neither useful nor ornamental. For while dear woman bones her skirts, And with a skeleton fliuuts and flirts, She has so much to carry. Man finds it hard with her to talk, And harder still to sit or walk, But hardest of all to marry. For when a smitten wretch has seen. Among the lost in crinoline. The ono his heart holds dearer, Oh 1 what a chill to a rdeat passion, To feel that thro' tiis hollow fushion . He never can be nearer! That iustead of timidly drawing near, pouring uuv tuu UKUUU^ V.?I, The floods of his soul's devotion, He must stand and bellow in thunder tones, Across half an acre of skirts aud bones, As if hailing a ship on the ocean. And if by chaucc the maid of his choice, , Shall faintly hear her lover's voice, And smile her condescension? Why he captures a mass of hoops and rings, Skeletons, bones, and other thing*, Too horrible to mention. Thus lovely woman hoops to folly, And drives poor man to melancholy, By her great frigid zones ; Then let bcr hear a warning voice, Between her hoops and hopes make choice, And give the dogs her bones. % Shrilling iltorg. : From the Cayuga Chief. THE TRAPPER'S STORY. j <?You needn't laugh, young man. I've ' seen bolder hearts as your'n, soften at danger. I've been in these woods, this uiglt j upon forty years, and have seen ugly marks j of many an ugly scrimmage, and have seeu j comrades as never know'd fear, shun the White Wolf. 'Taint for such us you to ' make light of such things." There was solemnity and sternness in the old Trapper's voice, and the fire of a still warm heart, kindled a moment in his old dim eye, as he slowly twisted an immense A?.. f?nn> rvlncr anrl thrnst it. thrmodit a wouaun. But I was youug then, and by the gods, boys," continued he, with tremulous energy, as if struggling to choke down rising feelings, "a fairer, or more beautiful critter never bloomed in the woods." The huuter hesitated a moment, unclenched his hard hand, aud hastily aud slyly brushed a large drop "from the rough cheek, aud continued,?"Yes, she war' a lovable gal, as trim as a pine, and as lightfooted as a fawn. Her eye was mild, aud yet it would kiuder look through one, and her voice was sweet as the dancing waters. Well, boys, to tell the truth, for I feel kiud o' like talking touight, I thought an uncommon sight of Mary Williams. 'Twan't often in a hunter's lifetime, that such a strip of sunshine streaked his trail. I felt, I did, as though I owned the whole Norwest, and hadn't care for the future. UllCW livm - --W -0 fully into bis cheek. The young hunter addressed, assumed a more guarded tone as he watched the old man with iuterest. "Toll us of the White Wolf!" was the request of the company, urged in the most deferential manner. The night was well advauced, the sky draped in heavy rain-clouds, and the iucreasing winds sweeping fitfully and mournfully through the forest. The waning camp-fire sent its flickering glare faintly out into the surrounding darkness; the tall pine trunks standing out from the inky blackness beyond, like ghastly forms. "Punch up the fire," said the Trapper, still gazing motionless into the embers. The wood was tossed on until the sparks and flame shot upwards iu a ruddy glare and shivered cheerily upon the faces of the circle. Just then a howl, clear, long-drawo, and fearfully dismal in its tone, came swelliug up from the valley, upou the winds. There was a slight movement iu the Trapper's muscles, and a paler shadow crept for the moment, over his wrinkled and swarthy features. "It allers comes 011 such nights as this !" murmured the old man, his gaze still looking into the fire. Even among those brave men, there was an involuntary movement towards the fice, at the sound from the forest, and the young man, who had laughed at the old man's superstitious, paled about the 15tw r?rl rvist n hurried fdance over his shoul ~ o der, into the forest. "Two and thirty year ago, next Christmas," slowly commenced the Trapper, "I came into these woods, and uuhody with me, 'cept Jed Williams and his sister." The Trapper hesitated a moment, as some sad memories seemed to come upon him, and his voice grew as tender and tremulous as a womau's. "Jed vras as true a boy as ever drew a sight, and uncommon skilled he was, in all kinds of wood-craft. The Ingin himself, could not sarkumvent Jed Williams, and the crack of his rifle was sartiu' death to every critter. Jed Williams' sister?wal boys," said the Trapper, half deprecatingly, as if ashamed of his emotion, "I can't help it, but these things take a dreadful deep hold j on me at times, though may be you young men will wouder why Old I)ave, as they call him. should srrow tender at the mention of j uThc first Ingiu summer come, and Mary and I, and Jed, used to tramp up and down the river and over the hills, for Mary loved the flowers, and used to watch the forest as the leaves were streaked like, with pretty colors. The nt;xt spring, I was to have had Mary Williams, and take her to my own cabin, over the river." More thau one tear now glistened a moment in the firelight and dropped fast from the cheek, as the Trapper gazed silently again into the flames. ^Coming back from a hunt one night, we ?that's Jed aud I?found a stranger in the cabin, lie was one of your city fellers, and yet he was handsome as a picter. He was richly dressed. 'His eye was the blackest and the piercingcst I ever see, aud seemed to go right through one, every time he looked 'em. I allers felt kind o' chilly like, every time he looked at me, and I ain't apt i to care for any critter's looks. His voice I was like ile, and crept right into one, some how. I did'nt like the looks of the feller at all, and it may be I was a little jealous. "Jed never turned a stranger away from his cabin, and this one stayed aud stayed. We wasn't awful thick with each other, and the more I see of him the worse I liked him. He seemed to know it, too, but never said nothing, only in his smooth kind o' way. I didn't rally want to pick a fuss with liirn, but I felt all the time as though there was a devil in his eye, when he catched me watching him. "One day?I remember it as well as tlio' 'twas yesterday?I came back from over the river, and found no one in the cabin. I felt uneasy and lonesome like, aud walked slowly down to a bend in the river where we used to hitch our boats. As I got near, I heard voices, and I knew that the stranger aud Mary Williams were there. They were talking low, but a prairie on fire in a gale, wasn't nothin' to what went on in my breast. I shut my hand on my rifle till it seemed that the barrel would give way. But I was cool, awfully cool, and began to creep nearer. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but I was determined that the stranger shouldn't conic any of his fassynatious over Mary Williams, if I could help it. They stood upon the bank, and he seemed to be trying to coax her to go into his boat, and she kind o' half hesitatin' like, as if afiaid. 1 knowed she wis charmed'. Some would laugh, but no critter ever had such eyes and such a voice, who could not sharm. I've seen birds charmed by rattlesnakes, aud I know that some men, cuss 'cm, liave the same natur. Well, as I was saying, Mary was charmed, and stood trembling, Iter mouth partly open, and her face as pale is ashes. Sbc wouMIcnn towards the si ranker at times, and then sway back again, and lie all the time watching her with his glittering eyes, and talking low to her. As he stepped into the boat, and held out his hand, Mary burst right out crying, and slowly fol-1 lowed liirn. It was now quite duskish, but j the strauger's eyes, as true as I am a living j man, glowed just like coals of fire. A cold j sweat stood all over my forehead, and I grew fuiut lor a minit. I jumped down the bank, right afore the stranger, and dropped iyy eye aloug 'old Mort,'?that's my rifle?and yelled at him to stop. Ho had just swung out from the bank, aud as I yelled, Mary put up her arms, like one in a nightmare, and cried for help The stranger's eyes fairly burned, but mj1 blood was up, aud I didn't care what I did. 1 fired!" There was a breathless silence around the camp-fire, as the Trapper here ceased his tale for a moment, and looked iuto vacancy. He continued : "Heavens aud arth ! All the infernal devils iu the pit could uot Lave put up such an awful yell as I heard; it was enough to drive oue mad. Aud though 1 don't like to tell it, I wcs scared, and my hair stood right square up, in spite of all I could do. I kuow 'twan'ta human voice?I ain't afraid of any human critter. It was the scream of some damned one, and was as near the howl of a wolf as anything, only enough sight more frightful. Mary fell faiuting in my arms, and the boat went down the stream, with that damnable howl ringing in my ears. / hear it now !" We all started and looked out iuto the darkness, but it w..s nut there that the Trapper heard the sound. After a moment, lie resumed: "Mary was never like her old self agaiu ?never. She kind o' pined, and seemed to be dreaming. She was kinder to me than ever, but would sometimes scein to forget everything around her, and then she would look atsoiuetliingjustassbcdidat the stranger on the river-bauk. It cut me hard, for I knew the spell was on her yet. One evening I found her standing where the afcrau- i ger's boat left the shore, her hauds locked as j they was then, aud she leaning out over the water. Wlicu I spoke to her, she started and commenced sobbing like a child. I was | in trouble, I tell you, and so was Jed. "Mary was used to hunter's fare, and used j to go with us on trips, for we durst not leave her alone in the cabin. One time, we'd been up nigh upon a hundred miles up the river, and at night camped uudcr a blulf, by an InT* wo.. OH..V* o na fVnc I UIUU C1IUI. jh? Uil.? JU.^l OUV^il tv ui^iiv mo , only it rained like suds all the time, and J such thunder and lightning I never see. It j was mighty. The rocks kept off the wind, { but the trees fell around us, and towards midnight the lightning struck an old dry pine, uud its blaze went clean into the sky. "After a while, Mary began to grow uneasy. Her face was pale, aud she would start as though she heard something, and look steady towards the river. She looked just as she did the night I found her with that stranger." "A bigger clap & thunder than ever come right down where we stood, and theu I heard the dip of oars as plain in the water?as plain as I hear that fire, and theu a voice called low, from the bank, 'Mary !' It was the stranger's ! I jumped for my rifle, but before I could find it, Mary started like a frightened deer, for the river, and I and Jed after her, as well as wo could in the dark. With a cry, kind o' sobbing like, Mary jumped into a boat, and the lightning made all as plain as day, there stood the stranger, his eyes shining, and that same infernal suiilc on his face. I knew right where he was, and in a jiff I pulled away at him. Louder than the storm, and a thousand times more awful, that same yell rung through the woods, and was answered back from over the river. It sounded like some devil laughing and yelling, and then away down the stream, there was a wail like a child's, growing fainter und fainter, and we heard it no more. Jed Williams and I both called for Maty, a loug time, but no answer. We took our boat and went up and down, bu: could not see or hear anything. We looked for a trail on the opposite bank, but found nothing but a wolf trail. As Jed stepped on shore, there was an awful snapping and snarling, and then howls, and as I live, they pitched into him. He gave one quick call for help, and then I heard that stranger's 3'ell, and in the blaze of a flash of lightning, as plana as I now see that lire, there stood a monstrous great wolf, as black as jet but hi* face xcas the stranger's ! I made a lunge at him with my knife, and knew no more. The sweat stood in great drops upon the Trapper's brow at this part of his story, and we ucticed that his fingers shut convulsively upon his rifle-barrel. "I laid there till morning," continued the old man, "cold, and drenched in the storm. It all seemed just like a dream at first, but it come to me slowly, and I roused up and took a look at things. "It made mo sick at the heart?that look ?for there was the bones of Jed Williams, and his rifle by the side of them. The cussed devils had picked 'em?as brave a man as ever drew abend?killed 1 ike_a dog. I wished they had killed me, too, and why they did'nt I can't toll. I've sometimes thought there was Providence in it, and that I should meet the stranger yet. I reckon 1 shall." As the lmntor said this, he clenched his teeth, and his eyes glared like a madman's. "Well, boys, after that night, my hair was as white as loam, and I grow'd old mighty quick. I hunted the woods all over for many a week, and all up and down the river, hut found nothing of Mary Williams. I went back to our camp, aud in about three weeks, what should I see one evening iu the water near the cove where I saw Mary with the stranger first, but something like a human person. On pulling it out, groat God, it was Mary Williams! llerblack hair was ctrlittmintr tvitli onvrntif iiiil l?nr funn Oil IIIMIIII'^ II li II UiV/ UUI I kliVj UUU IIV>( IU VV^ was turned upward. I took her gently up the hank, and laid her all dripphig on the leaves. All night, hoys, I sat and talked to Mary?it didn't seem as though she could die. But she was dead, and I hunted up the prettiest spot on the hill, and buried her alone. The wild vines aud flowers arc all over her grave, now, and I go there every fall, and watch by it all night. What is strange, like all the rest of the cussed works, the night I buried Mary, I heard that same infernal yell, and I knew the stranger was around. I irn ; bothered to make up uiy miud whether lie was man, wolf, or devil, but at any rate, I piled great stones on Mary's grave to make all sure. / shad meet that stranger get The Trapper pulled his knife from his belt and felt its edge to the point, and then primed his rifle anew. We could not help bcintr a little surprised at his manner?his actions indicating that he was expecting his dreaded antagonist soon. And strange as it seemed, at that moment there was a voice on the river and the measured dip of oars. A moment more, and the word "Mary!" iu gentle tones, came up like a sigh. Well all looked at the Trapper. An ashy paleness had crept over his swarthy features, his shaggy brow had dropped, his eye glittered with intense hate, and his teeth were closed like a vice. The old man was terrible to look upon. Muttering betweou his clenched teeth, he slowly arose and turned his ear towards the river. At the moment there was a footfall on the bank, and as plainly and distinctly as wc ever saw star in the night, there were two eyes of lire, glowing with supernatural light, and steadily advancing towards the camp. The rest of the boys must have seen the same, for they, by a common impulse, retreated behind the lire, and raised their rifles. ' 11a, ha, ha!" came in mocking tones from the direction of the fiery eyes. We heard it?all heard it. And tln^'dd Trapper heard it, fur in tones not less startling and husky, lie answered laugh for laugh, and steadi y advance 1. Ilis cap was off", and his thin locks lifted in the gusts of wind. Another moment, aud the Trappei's rifle blazed in the daikuess, arid its sharp report rung out in the night. With its last echoes, there went up one of the most wild, piercing, demoniac yells, we ever listened to, before or since. It was enough to freeze a man's blood at the fountatn, and throbbed like molten nightmare, through and through every vein. The old Trapper answered hack the yell, and rushed towards the river. For a few moments, there were terrible sounds of morj tal strife, with smothered yells, a snapping of teeth, and literal growls. In a few moments i there was stillness, only to be broken by yells more devilish than ever. All was still again, but not one of us returned to ti e spot. We called the old Trapper, hut lie did not answer. Iu the nioruiug there was a sight to starI tie the most reckless of our hand. Side by side, and stretched at full length upon the ! bloody ground, was the body of the old I Trapper, and one of the most gig an to: black I wolves we had ever seen 1 The left baud of the hunter was cleuehed in one of the cars, and with the other he had buried his hunting-knife to the haft, in the heart of the animal. The wolf's jaws were closed in deadly lock upou the hunter's throat, and the eyes?we never shall forget them?still glowed with a fearfully strange and unnatu ral light. It was by using our knives, that the grasp of the jaws was loosed from the throat. We silently and sadly buried the Trapper on the river's bunk, and then cast the body of the wolf upon the campfire to cousume. The eyes still glared, and we every momeDt expected to hear again that unearthly yell from the gory throat. Our story is told. We tell what the Trapper told us, ancr what we saw. We leave th? reader to explain what may seem strange or supernatural?we cannot. OtR NATIVE LAND. Home of our birth ! our dear-loved lanJ, Thj' glories stretch from sea. to sea: From oeean lake to tropic strand; Land of the fearless and the free ! From where the western Golden Gato Gleams ruddy in the sun setrny, To where the stern Atlantic chain Looks proudly on the rising day ; From far Niagara's deluge wild To Florida's pa.ennial flowers Ne'er hath the sun of heaven smiled On such a heritage as ours. "God and the Union!" This our creed? Our motto this forever be? So shall onr-stnrry banner float Forever o'er the brave and free! SACRED MOUNTAINS: MT. TABOR. BY THE REV. J. T. IIEADLEY. What strange contrasts this earth of ours , presents. It seems to be the middle spot between heavcu and hell, and to partake of i the character of both. Beings from both are found moving over its surface, and scenes < from both are constantly occuring upon it.? ! The glory from one and the midnight shades i from the other meet along its bosom, and the songs of angels and the shriek of fiends go up frqrn the same spot. Noonday and midnight avc not more opposite than the scenes that are constantly passing before our eyes. The temple of God stands heside a j brothel, and the place of prayer is separated ' only by a single dwelling from the "hell" of the gambler. Truth and falsehood walk side by side through our streets, and vice virtue meet and pass every hour of the day. The hut of the starving stands in the shadow of the palace of the wealthy, and the carriage of Dives every day throws the dust of its glittering wheels over the tattered garments of Lazarus. Health and sickness lie down in the same apartmeut; joy and agonylook out of the same window; and hope and : despair dwell under the same roof. The cry of the new-born infant and the groan of the o dying rise together from the same dwelling; the funeral procession treads c'osc on the heels of the bridal party; and the tones of the lute and viol have scarcely died away before the requiem for the dead comes swelling after, (^h ! the beautiful and deformed, the i pure and corrupt, joy and sorrow, ccstaeies and agonies, life and death arc strangely blent on this restless planet of ours. But the past and future prcstcnt as strange contrasts as the present. What different 1 events have transpired on the same spot.? Where the smoke of the Indian's wigtuam arose, and the stealthy tread of the wolf and 1 panther was heard over the autumn leaves at twilight, the population of New York now surges along. Where once Tyre the queen of the sea stood, fishermen arc spreading their nets on the desolate rocks, and the ; bright waves are rolling over its marble columns. In the empty apartments of Kdom ; the fox makes his deD, aud the dust of the desert is sifting over the forsaken ruins of Palmyra. The owl hoots in the ancient halls of kings, and the wind of the summer night makes sad music through the rents of once gorgeous palaces. The Arab spurs his steed along the street of ancient Jerusalem, or scornfully stands on Mount Zion and curls his lip at the pilgrim pressing wearily to the sepulchre of the Saviour. The Muezzin's voice rings over the bones of the prophets, and the desert wiud heaps the dust above the foundations of tho seven churches of Asia. Oh, how good and evil, light and darkness chase each other over the world. But i1 may he asked what this fit of musing has to do with Mount Tabor. It came upon me unawares, and was suggested by two differeut scenes iny imagination drew upon that mountain. Something over half a century ago, a form avis sr>r>n efnnditinr nn Mnnnt. Talmr with which the world lia.s siuct; become familiar. It was a bright spring morning, and as he sat on his steed in the clear sunlight, his eye rested on a scene in the vale below, which was sublime and appalling enough to quicken the pulsations of the calmest heart. 'That form was Napoleon Bonaparte, and the sceue before him the fierce and terrible "Battle of Mount Tabor." From Nazareth, where the Saviour once trod, Kleber had marched with three thousand French soldiers forth into the plain, when lo, at the foot of .Mount Tabor he saw the whole Turkish army drawn up in order of battle. Fifteen thousand infantry and twelve thousand splendid cavalry moved down in majestic strength on this band of three thousand French.? Kleber had scarcely time to throw his handful of men into squares, with the caunon at tti?-> nn>r1/>a hofnn* those twelro thousand . ....p.w.-, horse, making the earth suioke and thunder as they came, burst in a headlong gallop upon them. Hut round those steady squares rolled a fierce devouring fire, emptying the saddles of those wild horscmeu with frightful rapidity, and strewing the earth with the bodies of riders and steeds together. Again and again did those splendid squadrons wheel, re-form and charge with deafening shouts, while their up-lifted and flashing sciinetars gleamed like a forest of steel through the smoke of battle; but that same wasting fire ' received them. Those squares seemed bound j by a girdle of flame, so rapid and constant were the discharges. Before their certain and deadly aim, as they stqpd fighting for existence, the charging squadrons fell so v.. ; V, fast that a nunpart of dead bodies was soon ' formed around them. Behind this embank- v ment of dead men and horses this band of warriors stood and fought for six dreadful b hours, and was still steadily thinning the si ranks of the enemy, when Napoleon debouch- v ed with a single division on Mount Tabor, w and turned his eye below. What a scene aj met his gaze. The whole plan was filled tl with marching columns and charging squad- tl rons of wildly galloping steeds, while the tl thunder of cannon and fierce rattle of mus- P' ketry, amid which now and then was heard la the blast of thousands of trumpets, and strains bi of martial music, filled all the air. The suioke gi of battle was rolling ftirlously over the~ hosts, <1 and all was confusion and chaos in his sight. Amid the twenty-seven thousand Turks that C ii.i i ? ? i . Tl crowded tnc plain and enveloped the enemy ij like a cloud, and amid the incessant dis- 0 charge of artillery and musketry, Napoleon Si could tell where his own brave troops were hi struggling only by the steady simultaneous w vollies which showed where discipline was is contending with the wild valor of ovcr-pow- sa ering numbers. The constant flashes from behind that rampart of dead bodies were fii like spots of fiame on the tumultous and ti: chaotic field. Napoleon descended from w Mount Tabor with his little band, while a tii single twelve pounder, fired from the heights, 01 told the wearied Kleber that he was rushing to the rescue Thrown into confusion, and trampled under foot, that mighty army rolled turbulently back towards the Jordan, where Murat was anxiously waiting to mingle in the fight. Dashing with his cavalry among the disordered ranks, he sabred them down without mercy and raged like a lion amid the prey. This chivalric and romantic warrior declared that the remembrance of the scenes that once transpired on Mount Tabor, and on these thrice consecrated spots, came to him in the hottest of the fight and' nerved him with tenfold courage. As the sun went down over the plains of Palestine, and twilight shed its dim ray over the rent and trodden and dead-covered ^ field, a sulphurous cloud hung around the summit of Mount Tabor. The smoke of battle had settled there where once the cloud , of orlorv rested, while "roans and shrieks and cries rent the air. Nazareth, Jordan ^ and Mount Tabor! what spots for battle fields! ' ^ Hull back twenty centuries and again view to that hill. The day is bright and beautiful ca as then, and the same rich oriental land- of scape is smiling in the same sun. There is Nazareth with its busy population?the 0 same Nazareth from which Ivleber inarched n< his army; and there is Jordan rolling its at bright waters along,?the same Jordan along gt whose banks charged the glittering squad- sb rons of Murat's cavalry; and there is Mount w Tabor,?the same on which Bonapart stood ot with his cannon; and the same beautiful in plain where rulled the smoke of battle, and tb struggled thirty thousand men in mortal com- st bat.- But how different is the scene that is lii passing there. The Son of God stands on tii that height and casts his eye over the quiet th valley through which Jordan winds its silver tb current. There friends are beside Him; th they have walked together up the toilsome tb way, ami now the four stands, mere specks of 011 the distant summit. But the glorious a landscape at their feet is forgotton in a sub- tb limer scene that is passing before them.? gi The son of Mary?the carpenter of Nazareth tli ?the wanderer with whom they have ate w and drank and travelled on foot many a wea- uc ry league, in all the intimacy of companions nr i c..: i ? i, i,_f u. uiui menus, uej^ius IU UIKUJ^U uuiuie inuir ut eyes. Over his soiled and coarse garments dl is spreading a strange light steadily bright- hi cning into intenser beauty, till that form bl glows with such splendor that it seems to at waver to and fro and dissolve in the still in radiance. The three astonished friends gaze M on it in speechless admiration, then turn to fu that fnmilliar face. Butlo, a greater change m has passed over it. The man has put on cl the God, and that sad and solemn face that at has been seen so often stooping over the in (Touch of the dying, and entering the door of e: the hut of poverty, and Id the streets of fr Jerusalem, and by the weary wayside?aye ci bedewed with the tears of pity, now burns to like the sun in his mid-day splendor. Meak- m ness has given way to majesty?sadness to ti dazzling glory?the look of pity to the gran- el dour of a God. The still radiance of heaven si sits on that serene brow, and all around that oi divine form flows an atmosphere of strange ej and wondrous beauty. Heaven has poured jc its brightness over that cousccratcd spot, te and on the beams of light that glitter there, fr Moses and Klias have descended, and wrap- ui ped in the same shining vestments stand he- C side him. Wonder follows wouder, for those oi three glittering forms are talking with each gi other, aud amid the thrilling accents are ft heard the words "Mount Olivet," 'Calvary/ bi the acronv and the death of the crucifixion. A o */ Peter awe-struck and overcome, fccliug also iu the iufluence of that heavenly atmosphere, C and carried away by a sudden impulse, says y( to Jesus, in low and tremulous accents: "It si is good to be here; let us build three tabernacles one for thee, one for Moses, and one ft for Elias." Confused by the scene and daz- b zlcd by the splendor, he was ignorant what h he was saying. lie knew not the meaning it of this sudden appearance, but he knew that tl heaven was near and God revealing himself, ai and he felt that ante sacred ceremony would tf be appropriate to the scene, and while his e: bewildered gaze was fixed on the three forms h hcforc him, his unconscious lips murmured p forth the feelings of his heart. No wonder a sudden fear came over him that paralyzed b his tongue and crushed him to the earth, a when iu the midst of his speech he saw a a1 cloud fall like a falling star from heaven, t< and bright and dazzling, balance itself over e those forms of light. Perhaps his indiscreet ^ interruption had brought this new messen- ti ger down, and from its bosom the thunder tl and flame of Sinai were to burst; and he n fell on his face in silent terror. But that si cloud was only a canopy for its God, and ti from its bright foldings came a voice saying, cr i? This is niy beloved Son, in whom I am rell pleased, hear ye Him." How long the vision lasted we caunottell, ut all that night did Jesus with his friends tay on that lonely mountain. Of the conersation that passed between them there e know nothing: but little sleep, we im^ !>iiie, visited their eyes that night, and as icy sat on the high summit and watched ic stars as they rose one after another above id horizon, and gazed on the moon as she oured fcer light over the dim and darkened mdscape, words were spoken that seemed orn of heaven; and truths never to be fornttcn were uttpred tmfie ears"uf"llie suBuetf and"fevcrent disciples. Oh, how different is heaven and earth! an there be a stranger contrast than the attic and Transfiguration of Mount labor? ne shudders to think of Bonaparte and the ou of God on the same mountain; one with is wasting cannon by his side, and the other ?.i i r . . .* i "ni? _ _ a r ... f. Ti lcn iuoscs ana iMiasjust irom neaven. it like seeiug the devil and the angels in the ,rae Eden garden. Bat no after desecration can destroy the rst consecration of Mount Tabor; for, bapscd with the glory of heavep, and honored ith the wondrous scene of the Transfiguraon, its stands the fifth Sacred Mountain 1 the earth. THAT'S SO. The world gets wiser every day, That's so, that's so; A woman's bound to have her way, That's so, too; ' To contradict will raise a spree, That's so, that's so; But man with her3hould still agree, And that's so too. She carries hoops beneath her skirts, That's so, that's so; They show her off when e'er she flirts, That's so, too; She wears her bonnets very small, That's so, that's so; And flounces if she's very tall, And that's so, too. From the Southern Light. HRISTMAS IN THE OLDEN TIME. A CHAPTER OF FRAGMENTS. In the olden time, that was, when.I was a ippy glccsome child; when the- freshness id elasticity of early youth bathed my ;art and hopeful imagination in haloes in>ired and beautiful; when the soft and rar lant tintings of the rose gave a colouring i every glance into the perspective, and ist dreamy shadows ou the fleeting sorrows ' the past. The Christmas festivals of my childhood, h ! how doubly dear, as I remember them dw. Those pahn-crowned oases so luxuriit in fruits and flowers, where the waters ish free and sparkling beneath the grateful ladows of some moss-covered rock in this cary land. Chritimas eve?and we little ics, after a long lingering look in the teemg pantry, have bounded like so many wild lings over the broad pasture grounds and eep acclivities to the old mill pond, enha ng the bracing, frosty atmosphere, and ancipating the delights of to-morrow, until ie Sun had descended in his golden car into ie unfathomable depths of darkness, and ie stars came out, one by one, and claimed icir places around the throne of the queen ' night. Eighteen hundred years ago and still brighter star than these appeared above ie plains of Bethlehem ; and with a far eater awe and reverence than even we lite ones felt, as we gazed above, did the onderiug shepherd behold the glorious phejinenon?the herald which proclaimed the itivity of the Prince?Emanuel. We had ;en told this beautiful story from our craes, aud as the remembrance came with the lllowed anniversary, it caused the warm ood to glow with an increased acceleration >out our young hearts. Christmas morug ! Time honored festival! Thou glorious lecca of a Christian's hopes?how delightil the memory of thee as connected with y girlhood days. The great dawn has proaimed thy arrival from the blushing east, id little feet patter over the .chilled rooms i search of the well-filled stockings. What telamations of surprise and delight comes om each little chattering mouth as the repients of "old Ivrip's" bounty dart back i the snug nests they had left but for a inor ont. and then we children debate the ciues on whether or no, it could havt been the f himself or the good mama, who made ich efforts to bring happiness to the little les at all times, and particularly at the ioch from which we date all our fleeting iys and sorrows. By the time that this inresting matter is discussed a platoon is fired om sundry old muskets, rifles and crackers nder the windows, followed by the "Merry hristmas Massa! Merry Christmas Misses," : the maids and the refrain, "Christmas ift, Massa and Misse, ah I done cotch you is," of the old mamas. Well do I rememjr the never failing salutation of one old frican from time immemorial, "Melly Clisas Massa?Melly Clismas Misses?Melly lismas young Massaand Misses, happy new jar?hope you ebry one lib to see ten toum more." Hiliarity was the order of the day and olic and glee unchecked and unrestrained y fashion or other restraint, caused the ours to fly at telegraph speed?the dinner 1 all its luxuriant bounty and richness is irough with. The fruit and nuts are eaten od made merry over; pleasant walks are iken ; and cousins, brothers and sisters gathr around the bright crackling fire to play unt the slipper, sell the thimble and similar astimes. As the twilight deepens, and candles are eing brought in, we remember that mama nd the elder sisters have been mysteriously bsent, for several hours. Before the mys;ry is solved by us, however, a door is openi and a long table, beautifully decorated pith every variety of cake, fruit and confeconary, is presented to our view, whilst in tie centre, in a huge white tub, flourishes a lost singularly fruited tree, lighted with lores of wax tapers and laden with such reasures of toys, dolls, dogs and hones, birds f the aim and beasts of the forest?iu min iature. Books, pincushions &c. Ah ! surely we were a happy set. Then there was the post office for those who were verging on towards adolescence, and letters and billetdoux were read, when sly hints and innendoes brought the conscious blush or mischievous smile to the faces of those who flead and listened. i The delicacies were eaten?the gifts dis- ^ tributed by the presiding genius, the thoughtful and provident mother?and our festiflir ties ended with a sigh of regret for the past ?and a thrill of pleasurable anticipation for the future. . . Years have flown apace; oneTTy one bave we seen our loved ones wllhM and Aulu away?? ^ as the delicate petals of the lilly before the ^ 7 rouzh blast. The honored head above which the "crown of glory" shone like frosted silver, has long ago been crowned with that immortal diadcin that fadeth never more.? The dearest lambs of# the flock are among those who chant the chorus of the redeemed around the Throne of Him who came on innocent and gentle babe to prepare the way for those whom he has taken to his keeping. Generation has succeeded generation, and around the same heart?*where once gathered the children, may be seen on that same cherished anniversary, the grand children and s*. . the great grand children. The same prcsiding spirit dev.ses, the means of pleasureand gratification, and plans, the surprises and amuscmcnts. But ah ! a change, most melancholy is there, though it reveals the sustaining power of the Great I AM, toward* the children of his love aud care. She whoso physical powers were so capable to put into action the generous impulses of a still warm heart, and active mind, bast bad the light of day shut out from her vision for ever. The familiar faces so loved and cherished, have been loDg forgotteu?they are among tlin rfim shnflnwn nf t.h<? riant. Thft hnsv fingers that never tired nor relaxed in their daily routine of toil for the dear ones, lie nerveless and still, for an arm hath lost its power through a most painful and distressing agency; but the cheerful spirits faint not? ' jgj nor docs the undying, unwavering'faith ever " quail, for with a holy, trust hath she girded the self-answering interrogatory to her heart, shall we not receive evil as well a6 good ' - r^ from the hand of the Most High. And well do we love to gather around the hearth,at the old homestead and listen to the words ' t of patient endurance, of encouragement and, loving trust that emanate from the lips of the blind mother, and were led to marvel at the childlike simplicity of her dependence and faith in the Omnipotent, and alscfto wonder if the recompenoeof Aer reward will not be greater far, when those darkened eyes shall have opened on the glories of the New Jerusalem, than they, who have known far less here, of suffering, privation and sorrow. S. A.V4- . } I WANT MOTHEB. * An old man lay on his sick-bed, struggling with death. Disease has worn oat his bodjr, and so affected his mind that he was insensi- , ble to all things and persons around him.? His family and one or two other friends, stood by his bed-side, for it was evident that he had but a few minutes to live. He rolled his head, as if in great pain, and made several efforts to speak. At length we could ^VlA TTT Al" Jo C ? AX t 7 M/THi so sweetly." Children, your chcrishyouthful affections. If you loose them, they can never return to you in their present freshness. Nourish them through life, and there will never be a month, perhaps never a day^ but they will help you to understand the still more tender and oonfiding affection which brings to the redeemed child of God, the love and watohful care of his Father iu heaven.?American Presbyterian. A man boasted that be once had a brother who was a revolutionary hero. It came out that the person spoken of was long on treadmill. ? UiOLiuioii tilO nviuoj aui/w?v? - ^ k/uh? Mother ! Why don't Mother come f" JTls mother had been dead nearly fifty years. He" was probably unconscious that he had rwife and children and grand children around him, or that he was himself any thing but a child. When he was really a child, he had his troubles, as all children have, and then he used to carry his little griefs to his mother, for he knew now that he was in trouble, and he thought if his dear mother would come she would comfort him. Oh, that children could now "understand what precious things theif young affections are ! It is sad to see how soon they sometimes part with them, and how easily they are made ashamed of them. Boys who love to lay their heads in a mother's lap, to kneel by her side and offer their prayers to God, and who feel as though they could not go to sleep without her coming to their bed and kissing them, and saying a parting "good night," are sometimes ashamed of this sim% pie and sweet attachment. Bad children, such are as spoken of in Proverbs, xxx: 17, ridicule them for these expressions of artless love, and call them babyish. When they become old enough to go out into the wprld, evil companions teach them that it is childish, unmanly to^follow the councils which they received in childhood, and laugh about "anxious mothers;" and they are too often successful in their mean efforts to wean them from the purest and happiest affection which, belongs to this world. Then they part with the best love of earth forever. Would that our little readers knew with what earnest, but vain longings, they may look back for these blessed young affections, should they live until youthftxl hopes have expired, and the cares of life have become oppressive. We could tell them of men of ripe age, strong minds, and who have reached high destinations in the world who have had hours when, orushed by troubles, and worn down by suffering, they have been heard to exclaim, "Oh, that I were a little child again ! Then I would carry my sorrows to my mother, sob upon her bosom, and she would take me in her arms and comfort me