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? '. * lIwism' oIisT^ro^etor. j An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |*2peeajrmmnradvabcj. VOL. 57 YORKYILLE, S. C.? THUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1859. NO. - ? . . 1 . -a?gBBges 'Willie figjrtjjeart's" written for the y( "TOO IS T O THE DARK MYSTERY OF BY WILLIE*I author of "lula woodrworth," "winn] sun," "old heads and y CHAPTER V.?Continued. 'Take the candles from the lantern/ said Milton to Jade, 'and set them in those candle-sticks upon the mantle piece. There? that will do?now go down stairs and bring up that basket of refreshments. Mr. P'Yil ton will be none the worse ott lor a taste or cold turkey, and a glass of that excellent wine.' * 'The devil!' exclaimed Jude, looking cautiously out into the dark passage, 'you don't expect me to go down in the dark !' 'There is nothing to be afraid of,' said Milton, handing Jude one of the candles. 'I ain't so sure of that,' saic^ Jude, placing the candle in one of the lanterns. 'Give me a pistol, and I'll face the devil himself!' 'Here is one,' said Milton, taking D'Vilton's pistol from the table. 'Not exactly!' said D'Vilton, snatching it from Milton. 'I am not prepared to let my pistol lgo of just at this particular time; for, in that case I should expect to loose the charge.' Milton bit his lips, and colored to the temples at this keenly guarded, but palpable insinuation; and, taking a pistol from his bosom, he handed it, in silence, to Jude. 'While we are waiting for the refreshments,' said D'Vilton, as soon as Jude left the room, 'please inform me how it is that I find my boy under your gaurdianship and care.' " - " nw oiii ' coist Miltnn 19 U IUUg O LKJIJy Oil y UU4U going towards the door and placing his hand to his ear in a listening attitude. 'Is the story of such a character as to demand such caution in its relation ?' asked D'Vilton. 'I can publish it upon the house-tops if it were necessary,' said Milton, resuming his seat. 'You need not be afraid of eavesdroppers then,' said D'Vilton. 'I am not afraid sir. I simply listened at the door, because I imagined I heard Jude's voice,' said Milton. 'Jude's voice 1'said D'Vilton, starting; 'what should the villian be doing here ?? His foul-soul has long ere now tasted the dark and fiery experiences of perdition !'? And, so saying, D'Vilton arose from his seat, > and paced the room with long, rapid strides. Milton, plaoing his finger on his lip, motioned to Julius to be silent; then, turning to D'Vilton, he said in well feigned tones of surprise, 'Was Jude as bad a man as to deserve so terrible a doom ?' 'Bad ! there never lived so villianous ana bloody a being since the world began,' said D'Vilton. 'He was not always so,' said Milton; 'for I can remember the time when Jude was an honest, and hard working weaver. I have * * ?A DOC Seen mm iur many jreaia, auu uiu uvt know that he was dead.' 'I saw him hanged to a tree in America by an excited and outraged community,' said D'Vilton; 'and I ate strongly impressed with the idea, that there are others, like him, who are fast bringing upon themselves a similar fate.' 'Sir!' exclaimed Milton vehemently, starting to his feet, and looking wildly upon D'Vilton, 'am I to understand .' 'Understand, that I am not frightened by your fierce looks and exceedingly well executed dramatic attitudes,' said D'Vilton, with a bitter smile. 'You seem to have availed yourself, Mr. D'Vilton, of the sanctity and privileges of your house to insult me, sir. I am not disposed to aid you in your efforts to work yourself up into a passion, and would advise you to be more careful in your selection of words when addressing me. Remember, sir, that you are in the presence of Claude Milton !' And, so saying, Milton erected his fine, tall form; and throwing his head proudly up, stood face to face with D'Vilton. 'Be seated, sir,' said D'Vilton, courteously. 'It may be, that I wrong you by entertaining the feelings and opinions which I do, regarding your true character; but the unaccountable manner in which you have acted since I saw you at the 'Crowing Cock Inn,' together with what I have heard in this house, has excited my suspicions beyond measure.' '1 trust, that time will prove your suspicions unjust,' said Milton. ?I will not wait for time to do so,' said D'Vilton. 'You must undertake the task for yourself; but how and when did my boy come under your guardianship?' <Hc was found in a basket, about thirteen years ago, and brought to my residence in Monctown,' said Milton. '"Where was the basket found?' 'In Monctown.' 'But what part of the town ?' asked D'Vilton. 'I think the servant found the infant opposite St. Mary's Church,' said Milton. <A servant found him, then ?' said D'Vilton, passing his hand quickly over his eyes, and drawing Julius closer to his side. 'Yes sir,' said Milton. 'Is the servant living with you still?' 'He died about four years ago,' replied Milton. 'Was there anything, beside the infant, in the basket??any papers and money?' 'I have fifty guineas, and a written description of the father of the infant.' j Original Jlirafrdette. 5RKVILLE ENQUIRER. HE HEIR r R, THE BESERTE? HOUSE. JGHTHEART, [E AND WILLIE," "THE CHILDREN OF THE rOUNG HEARTS," AC., AC. ** 'Where are they V 'At home, sir/ replied Milton. 'Was there nothing else in the basket V 'Yes sir; there was another paper, requesting the finder of the babe to name it JuliuB D'Vilton?to give it, wben old ennn^h. a eood education?to deliver it only to Edward D'Vilton and?.' 'To take the money found in the basket; with the promise of ultimately receiving five hundred pounds, if the child was taken care of until called for/ said D'Vilton. 'Exactly, sir,' said Milton ; 'you are perfectly correct.' 'By the way, my good sir,' said D'Vilton, 'the basket was painted green, and had a rope handle?was it not so V 'I do not th-th-think so,' said Milton, uneasily. 'It was, I think, a plain champagne basket?had no handle, and was not painted any color.' 'Right!?quite right!' said D'Vilton, embracing Julius. 'You are indeed and in truth, my dear boy, the only son and heir of Charlotte and Edward D'Vilton !' 'Hark !' exclaimed Milton, suddenly starting to his feet and stepping to the door, 'as I live! I hear the voice of a woman !' D'Vilton had but just joined Milton at the door of the apartment, when the loud report of a pistol?a piercing scream, and a dull, heavy sound, like the fall of a body, reverberated throughout the house, and sent a thrill of horror through their hearts. A moment after, Jude shouted from the foot of the stairs: 'Bring a light, for God's sake!?I've killed somebody down here!? run with a light!' Telling Julius to remain in the library, and hastily seizing a pistol and candle, D'Vilton rushed breathlessly out of the room, closely followed by Milton. 'Here!' said Jude, as the two gentlemen reached the foot of the staircase, 'bring the light this way !?quick !' D'Vilton and Milton turned in the diir?r* frnm tzrhonnn f h o xrnina when, to their horror, they beheld the form of a woman stretched upon the floor, weltering in blood, and apparently writhing in the pangs of death. 'She did it herself, Mr. D'Vilton !?she tried to take the pistol from me?it went off by accident?I didn't intend to kill her!' said Jude, trembling. At mention of D'Vilton's name, the poor woman started?opened her large black eyes ?attempted to speak, then fell back with a long, deep groan. 'Who can the poor creature be V asked D'Vilton, 'and what possible motive could have brought her here ?' 'Heavens!' exclaimed Milton, starting, and turning deathly pale, 'it is old Loo, the fortune-teller!' 'Old Loo!' exclaimed D'Vilton, 'she must not die! She has much to tell me of my poor, unfortunate Charlotte ! We must examine the wound?gods ! she will bleed to death ! Are there no other candles to be had ?' 'There are plenty in this basket,' said Jude. 'Light some of them, Ned,' said Milton ; giving Jude a peculiar and significant look, which he seemed to understand. 'You have your horses at the door?have you not?' asked D'Vilton, turning to Milton. 'No sir; we came in a carriage?' 'That will answer as well for?' 'But we have sent it back to Monctown,' said Jude. 'Distraction !' said D'Vilton, 'how far from this place is the nearest tavern ?' The 'White Swan' is about two miles west of us,' said Jude. 'Go at once there, and hire a swift horse, and set out immediately for Monctown, and ?what is your name ?' <Ned Brown, sir,' said Jude. 'Well Ned, bring me the lest surgeon in Monctown as soon as possible. Here is enough to pay your expenses?you shall have more hereafter,' said D'Vilton, handing Jude a five pound note. 'I will make all the haste I can, sir,' said Jude ; then turning to Milton, he said in a whisper: 'See how he pays a man for a job !' and before Milton could reply the unprincipled villian was gone. 'God grant, that the miserable hag bleed to death !' said Milton, to himself, as he turned and walked towards D'Vilton, who was endeavoring to ascertain the nature, and probable effects of the wound. 'Ilave you wine in that basket V asked D'Vilton, pointing to the basket of refreshments, which Jude had brought. 'Yes,' said Milton, sullenly. {Well, open one of the bottles, and soak this handkerchief?perhaps I may be able to squeeze a little wine into the poor creature's mouth,' said D'Vilton, handing Milton a handkerchief. 'I'd give a thousand pounds for a phial of poison!' said Milton, inaudibly, as he opened one of the bottles, and proceeded to pour a portion of the contents upon the handkerchief. The handkerchief was applied to the partly opened mouth of Loo, and the wine seemed greatly to revive her. 'Is there no water upon the premises ?? no well or cistern V asked D'Vilton. 'but the bucket is broken.' 'Unfortunately!' said D'Yilton, gazing anxiously upon the pallid countenance of old Loo. Then, suddenly starting to his feet, he continued, 'Run up stairs into the room immediately above the library, and bring me the sheets and one of the blankets from the bed.' Milton, taking one of the candles, ascended the stairs in silence; while D'Yilton literally tore his shire from his body and endeavored to prevent a farther flow of blood from the wound, by pressing the linen to the wounded breast of poor old Loo. Milton returned, after the lapse of a few moments, and threw the sheets and blankets at the feet of D'Yilton, without uttering a word. 'Tear one of those sheets in strips, at d tie them together/ said D'Vilton. Milton silently complied with the request ?or obeyed the commaod. 'Thanks !' said D'Vilton. 'Tie the end to this blanket, and find a stone in the yard. Attach the stone to the blanket and let it down into the well.' 'For what V asked Milton. 'To procure a little water/ said D'Vilton. Milton silently descended the stairs? opened the door, and walked out into the yard. Finding a stone of sufficient weight to sink the blanket, he secured it to the same, and slowly let it down the well. As the strips of linen slipped through his fingers, he said : 'If she recovers, I am lost, ruined and undone forever! Ha! how ?asily could I place the muzzle of my pistol to the ear of D'Vilton, and?ha ! ha !?wind up the whole plot at once. Let me see!? if I killed D'Vilton I could easily let him down this well and?.' The sentence *as not concluded; for as Milton drew up the blanket, and pulled it towards him, several bones fell to his feet. With an exclamation of horror, Milton threw the bones into the well, and hastened to the house; beariog the dripping blanket with him. D'Vilton, having washed the wound, managed to scrape a quantity of lint from the linen sheet; and having applied it to the wound, aDd bandaged it with strips of the sheet, Milton assisted him to convey the suffering woman to the room above the library. As D'Vilton laid her carefully upon a lounge, and placed a pillow beneath her head, poor Loo again made an unsuccessful effort to speak. 'Do you consider the wound fatal ?' asked Milton. 'It is impossible to come to any deffnite conclusion concerning it,' said D'Vilton ; 'but I do not think the poor woman is beyond the reach of hope.' 'Are you acquainted with her?' asked Milton. 'Never saw her before, to my knowledge,' replied D'Vilton; 'but at my arrival in London I received a letter from a correspondent, bearing the signature of 'Old Loo,' and containing matter of the deepest interest to me.' 'A letter from her." said Milton, much surprised, 'now am sne Know mat you were in the land of the living?' That is more than I know,' replied D'Vilton. But what brings her to the 'Deserted House ?' and how did she manage to efl'ect an entrance, seeing thatevery door i9 locked?' I know not' said D'Vilton, taking the hand of old Loo, and seating himself beside her. The poor creature pressed the hand of D'Vilton, and pointed significantly to a portrait hanging in the room. Cannot tell me what you mean, Loo?' asked D'Vilton, gazing tearfully upon the beautiful portrait of bis wife. With a desperate effort she started up in a sitting posture ; and, grasping the arm of Milton, almost screamed in his ear?'Where is she now ?' The poor woman is delirious,' said Milton, starting, and turning pale. Compose yourself, my good woman, and lie as still as possible,' said D'Vilton. 'Th-tbeboy!?where is he?' asked the suffering woman, looking anxiously around the room, and scowling upon Milton. 'He is up stairs,' said Milton, uneasily. 'lie?lie is your?your sou said Loo; sinking back upon the pillow, and pressing the hand of D'Vilton. 'I know that he is, my poor woman !' said D'Vilton. 'Th-th-then I am sat-satisfied !' said Loo, releasing her grasp upon the hand of D'Vilton, and burying her face in the pillow. Cods!' said Milton, in a whisper, 'if she die now my triumph is complete ! She has acknowledged the boy to be the son of D'Vilton." CHAPTER VI. "Pltyyiciane mend or end us, Secuudum nrtembut although we sneer In henlth?when sick, we call then to attcn 1 us, Without the least propensity to jeer." Why should the sacred character of virtue Shine on a vidian's countenance? Ye powers! Why fixed you not a brand on treason's front That we might know t'avoid perfidious mortals! Dennis's Ipiiigenka. Jude made his appearance about two hours and a half after, accompanied by Job Dulson, one of the most skillful surgeons *n England, and, perhaps, the only man in Monctown who would have ventured to treat a case under the roof of the deserted house. "Without uttering a word, the worthy old man proceeded at once to examine the wounds of the suffering woman. Two balls had passed through the fleshy part of her right breast and shoulder; and, though not deemed fatally serious if skilfully treated, made it necessary, that every precaution should be made use of to prevent very serious consequence ultimately. 'I suppose' said Milton, after the surgeon had concluded his examination, that it will not be necessary for all of us to remain with the poor woman.' 'As it is necessary that she be kept perfectly quiet, it would be better to have but said Dulson. 'I shall administer some opiate, as a few hours rest may possibly be of some benefit to her.' 'I have no objections to remain with her,' said Milton. 'Mr. Milton is a capital nurse' saidJude. 'Whenever Mr. Milton's services are needed,'said D'Vilton, 'I will call upon him, with the assurance that they will be readily granted : but, I prefer actiDg in the capacity of nurse myself?at present, at least.' Jude exchanged glances with Milton, but neither made a reply. ?I shall leave this vial ^ith you, Mr. D'Vilton,' said Dulson, after having administered a portion of the contents to old Loo. 'If what I have given her does not make her sleep, repeat the dose overy tW9 hours until it produces the desired effect.' 'We must get that bottleinour possession,' whispered Jnde to Milton. 'Impossible!'said Milton; 'we lack opportunity.' 'I shall be obliged to leave you now,' said Dulson; 'as I have several patients to visit, but will call here very early in the morning.' So saying, Dulson left the room, accompantvv;w?? icu uj x/ f j i tyu. 'Now or never!'said Milton, as he seized the vial; and, before Jude could guess his motive, Milton applied the bottle to the mouth of the helpless woman, and poured more than half of its contents down her throat. 'That will do for the present,' said Milton, placiogthe vial in the place from whence he had taken it. Give her the whole of it, Milton, if yon want her to sleep forever?don't be so stingy man,' said Jude. 'She has enough for the present,' replied Milton. 'I only wish to keep her in a state of insensibility until I can accomplish my ends.' 'I don't understand what the old gal has got to do with the accomplishment of your ends,' said Jude. 'Neither is it necessary, that you should,' said Milton. 'But, here comes D'Vilton.' 'Is it your intention to remain here all night,' asked D'Vilton, as he re-entered the room. 'Just as you please about that sir,' said Milton. 'If we can be of any service to you, it will afford us much pleasure to remain here until morning.' 'I think that you said something about refreshments some hours ago,' said D'Vilton. 'I thiuk, that a little cold capon, or grouse, would not be hard to take ; especially, if we have some fine wine to take the taste out of our mouths.' 'What did you do with the basket, Ned V asked Milton. 'I left it down stairs,' said Jude, suddenly. 'Be so good, Ned, as to bring it up,' said Milton. 'I would not go down those stairs again for all the gold in existence,' said Jude. 'There is no danger to be apprehended, Ned,' said Milton. 'Do you want me to shoot another woman !' asked Jude, looking out into the dark passage, and drawing back. ' We shall prevent the possibility, by keeping our pistols here,' said D'Vilton. 'Sdoath ! you do not expect me to venture? 'Coward!' said Milton, starting up and seizing a candle; 'tell me where the basket is, and I will bring it up, myself.' 'Claude Milton,' said Jude, turning 6ercely around, and grasping the arm of Milton, 'I am not a coward ! Hand me that candle, and keep your tongue between your teeth ; or, by my soul! you will regret it!' 1 i.j iv. ii_ x- T? j. iuiuuu uauueu uie caDaie 10 tiuae iu silence ; and the latter, after giving the former a significant look, walked boldly out into the dark passage with an oath of defiance. Who is that strange creature?' asked D'Vilton, as soon as Jude left the room. 'His name is Ned Brown, as I have already informed you,' replied Milton. <1 did not ask his name, Mr. Milton,' said D'Vilton. 'He is my servent, then.' 'Your servant ! zounds ! I should think, that he was your master, judging from his language and behavior.' 'The poor fellow is weary, sir and does not mean what he says,' replied Milton with an air of assumed indifference. 'Well, well; all I have to say, is, that my servant never drank wine with me at a public house or threatened me anywhere. People's tastes differ however.' Milton colored to the temples, but made no reply. For a few moments a painful silence ensued ; broken only by the short, quick breathings of old Loo, who by this time, was completely under the influence of the opiate. 'By the way,' said D'Vilton, as if suddenly recollecting something of importance, 'I will be much pleased, if you will, at your nnrliocf nAnnaniAnrtn Uhi V? wn /ia! rt f vuiuwu VUUTCUICUUOJ uiiu^ UJC tiiu uiatcicb which you found upon the ankle of Julius.' 'Bracelet !?upon Julius' ankle !' said Milton in surprise. 'What in the world do you mean, Mr. D'Vilton.' 'Why, did you not find a heavy topaz and ruby bracelet, upon the infant's right ankle ?' asked D'Vilton, in much surprise. 'Mot that I remember, but, but?' 'Zounds, sir!' said D'Vilton,' if you found no bracelet, you found no papers; and if you found no papers you did not find my child; and if he is not my child, you are endeavoring to practice an imposition upon me.' Milton trembled, bit his lips, and grew pale as death, as D'Vilton slowly uttered these words. All his deep laid plans, appeared to him to bo swept away, and the snare which he had intended for others now closed its coils around himself. 'Are you quite sure, sir,' asked Milton, after some moments silence, 'that there teas a bracelet upon the infant's ankle when placed in the basket.' 'I know nothing about it then/ said Mil- 1 ton, assuming an air of offended pride, and I erecting his fine, handsome form. 'If/ he i continued, 'you suppose me capable of prac- ] ticing a deception upon you?if you doubt, i that I have the papers in my possession, to- I gether with the identical basket in which i the child was placed?if, in short, you choose to discard or disown your own son, it does 1 not make that difference to me,' (here Milton snapped his fingers) 'for I shall take him i home again, and support him as I have been dnincr ? hnf.. Rir. when .Tnlins becomes a man and finds himself the heir of the D'Vilton estates, think you that he will not assert his claim ?' As Milton concluded, Jude made his appearance with the refreshments. 'I have opened a bottle of wine/ said he, 'which you will find tip-top stuff.' And so saying he filled a goblet and handed it to D'Vilton. 'Where is the boy V asked D'Vilton, as he drank off the wine, and placed the glass upon the table. 'Your son, sir?' asked Jude. My son ??well, yes?for the present, at least/ said D'Vilton. 'He is asleep in the library/ said Jude. 'Go down and tell him that I wish to see him.' 'Take the grouse and capon from the basket, Ned/ said Milton, 'while I go down for the boy.' And so saying, Milton hurried from the room. When he entered the library, he found , Julius stretched out upon one of the lounges, and sound asleep. He was awakened with much difficulty, but immediately became drowsy again and seemed utterly unable to keep his eyes open or articulate a single sentence. 'This is very strange I' said Milton, after vainly endeavoring to arouse the boy. He was about to leave the room for a glass of wine, when, to his surprise, Jude made his appearance at the door, with several bottles and two glasses. 'So far all is well/ said he, as he entered the room, and placed the bottles upon the taDie. 'What do you mean, Jade?' asked Milton, somewhat alarmed. . 'That fellow up stairs is snoring by this time.' 'D'Vilton ?' asked Milton. 'Yes ; I gave him a few drops of something in his wine, which made him conclude to take a five hour nap.' 'But, why have you done so ?' asked Milton. 'Because I didn't exactly approve of the general apearance of things, and wanted to have a little time for reflection and planning; so I just put a few persons asleep, until we could have a little private talk.' 'And this boy?what have you done with him V asked Milton. 'Put him to sleep, man !?that's all the harm.' 'But there was no necessity to drug him wa3 there V 'To be sure there was,' replied Jude.? 'We have, that to talk about this very night, which Julius must not hear. 'Well, Jude, pour me out a glass'of that brandy, and then we will transact business. Drink first, old fellow! I might possibly fall asleep, if I drank first.' 'Now look here, Milton !' said Jude, 'that ain't the kind of way I treat my friends; so don't mention it again.' 'To business, then,' said Milton, seating himself. 'Wait until I take a drink,' said Jude, nearly filling a goblet with pure brandy, and drinking it off like so much water. 'And now,' he continued, placing the empty glass upon the table, 'let me tell you, Claude Milton, that things begin to assume a very squally aspect.' 'Whose fault is it?' asked Milton. 'Certainly not mine, Milton,' said Jude. 'You know better than that, Jude,' replied Milton, draining a glass of wine. 'You were paid to put D'Vilton out of the way, and swore that you saw him drowned on his way to America. Then think how much money I gave you to destroy the infant.? What means this sudden and unexpected appearance of both father and child ; and what possible good has my generosity to you availed me ?' 'I certainly did see D'Vilton go down, while crossing the Atlantic some thirteen years ago, and had every reason to suppose that he was drowned.' 'But why did you not destroy the infant ?' asked Milton. 'That is rather a long story,' said Jude, deliberately filling his pipe. 'But I have a right to know all about it Jude.' . 'Well, the night after I brought the foundling to your house, you remember that you agreed to give me fifty pounds if T would destroy the infant.' 'Yes; so I d'd,' said Milton. 'I told you that I had found papers of considerable value in the basket, and that the child was the son of D'Vilton.' 'And you told me that you had a bastard infant not many miles off, which I must obtain and place in the basket instead of the infant first found.' 'Exactly!' said Milton. Well, I took the foundling out in the country that very night with the full intention of killing and burying it; but becoming tired, I left the basket under a hedge and walked back to a tavern to partake of some refreshments. The tavern was not more than a quarter of a mile off the road, and I did not remain there more than thirty or forty minutes. After leaving the tavern, I walked back to where I had placed the basket, but both infant and basket could nowhere be found.' 'Distraction !' exclaimed Milton, 'why did you not tell me so at the time V 'Because,' replied Jude, 'when I returned to Monctown a day or two after, I heard it noised about, that you had found an infant BUii Pant was a child of Edward D'Vilton, and that the basket contained money, and papers importance. When I discovered that the people could be so easily gulled, I felt assursd that your plan had succeeded, and therePore did not tell you that I had not killed the genuine Julius D'Vilton.' 'But Jude,'said Milton, 'that was very bad policy.' 'How so? I got the fifty pounds, and you appeared to be fully satisfied.' 'But, man alive ! what boy can this be, which that old bag of a fortune-teller broueht here, and who calls himself the son of Edward D'Vilton ?' 'Judging from his resemblance to D'Vilton, I could swear, that he is what he declares himself to be,' said Jude, helping himself to more brandy. Milton drained a goblet of wine in silence j ' - n 1 Jl_ then started to his teet ana warned rapiaiy across the room; then suddenly pausing, he clutohed to a chair-back for support and exclaimed : 'The curse of God is upon me! ?my plans are all frustrated, unless I do a deed of blood! Oh, Jude! I had hoped that the past was buried in oblivion?I had intended to leave off this damning course of life?to reform, and and?heart, grow hard as adamant!?bead, be thou filled with the cunning of seven devils!' and so saying the unfortunate transgressor drained a goblet of strong brandy, and resumed bis seat with an air of sullen determination. Jude watched him in silence; and a close observer might have detected an expression of 6endish triumph upon his weather-beaten countenance; a peculiar look of satisfaction, and ill-disguised exultation over his victim. [TO BE CONTINUED.] written for the Yorkville Enquirer. SONNET. DAY FOLLOWS NIGHT. BY SAMUKL 1. HAMMOND. Once, I do remember well?'twas in Life's early morn, With a heart bowed down with sorrow?being all forlorn Like a lone tempest-tossed mariner: Life's seastorm Around my frail bark surged and tossed in wild fury; * Sweeping on with mighty snrge, the waters of Adversity? Wild billowy brine, on, on, dashed with headlong impetuosity, Thro' whirlpools of Misfortune, o'er the rapids of Despondency, Madly pitching thro' sorrows channels, dark and gloomy, Down the falls of Despair to the dread rocks of Destruction! Hope's fair sky grew murky and was hung with an inky festoon? Cruel Fortune refused to smile and all was dark, desolate gloom; Till from on high an All-powerful-arm down reach'd and roll'd away The black clouds of Trouble ; barbaric Night then winged her flight? The 3un, the glorious sun, burst forth, and all tea* Day. Sekttb Mkdkim. THE CROWNED. A PICTURE PROM REAL LIFE. BY EDWIN HEBIOT. They are weaving garlands for her youthful brow, Whence came those laughing groups that shout in song So merrily?and trip with gladsome steps Across the verdant lawn?these gay festoons O'erhanging chaste and tasteful arbors?bowers Of fairest green?bouquets of richest colors In gay variety?? 'Tis Friendship's tribute To modest virtue?see?they are bringing flowers ; She of the sparkling eye and rose-like cheek Is chosen Queen of Mag?and all the rest Have come to bid her welcome. Each loud peal Of voices spreading far the grateful news And all preparing for to-morrow's dawu How joyfully! They are weaving now a shroud?afuneral shroud ; And who are they that stand in palsied silence Around that bier? What placid features these? The same calm smile ??Alas! then can it be That same insatiate spoiler hath boen hero, And dashed from Beauty's cheek those brilliant hues That did but yesterday such life impart? Yes?sho of the glossy riDglets, lightsome step And joyous heart, lies cold iu Death's embrace ! Scarce closed the eve that ushers in the mom When that fair coronet would deck her head. And now?pale forms are bending o'er the sleeper Clad in Death's roles ! their tears fast coursing down How silently ! They are weaving yet a crown?a glittering crown; Who now are these that stand around yon throne Of Light, encircled with bright diadems ? Lo! that celestial choir are welcoming A recent guest within their happy circle, Sweet messengers of Mercy come?and she Whose brow was destined for a coronet Of fading earth, now wears, we trust, a crown Of never fading beauty. Mortal ! hence A lesson learn?she, whose brief history Is here, was once as bright with hope as thou, Seek then to wear that crown?to reach that goal Triumphantly! Charleston, S. L'. PERSEVERANCE. "Great men are not all ways wise," is an adage that needs no illustration at our hands. Great men may do very foolish things and be anything but great outside of their sphere of eminence. Every politician knows that the greatest General in the world may write letters of which a school boy should be ashamed. And because a man be eminent as a statesman, is no reason to rely upon him as a superior financier, or a philanthropist. Yet all great men, whether of the field or the forum, whether the dispenser of peace from the pulpit, or mercy to the inmates of the prison, of whatever grade or sphere, have had all one characteristic?Perseverance. Alexander is among the first names on the first pages of history. Yet, bad he lived in our day, his appellation would have been "Alexander tbe fool," for certainly no fool of his time was ever more foolish than he. His whole course of life was an almost continuous display of unwise rashness. But he possessed a will, and a perseverance that took. From his victory over Baeepafcitu to the last act of his dissipated life, this great feautre is all we see to remember. Julius Caesar was another of the world's heroes; true he was a man of ability and learning, an honor to himself, an ornament to his age and his oonntry. But his victories and his greatness was but the results of the perseverance with whioh his sagacious determinations were urged to fulfilment.? So with Napoleon, and so with Washington* A man of resolution and perseverance, no matter in what age or what capacity,. will always be great. In our own times we ad-mire but few characters with a greater fervency than that of Jaoksoo. Not so numb, indeed, ou account of hispeonliar views, for some of them were unpopular, as fortbt will ana honest perseverance with wmeb, nofc~ withstanding this circumstance, they were enforced. Daring his administration, every one, from Nicholas Biddle down to Louiii1 Phillippe knew who was President, filsdetermination was his character, which made him "the man for the times." And so with every great man. On the contrary, the monarch and kings' of history, who have lacked this great prificiple?are the hard names we can remembtr, however easy of orthography or euphonious in soond. Such men are mere eyphfcft.?1They make no impression on the world, eft ther for good or ill, bat like the supernumeries of the stage, are here only to fill op the scenes, and then pass away to be forgotten forever. V Now as the principles of science are Ser* viceable only as they are applicable to the arts and the wants of every day life, so oar stady of ourselves and the history of- our race should be used to a good aoeoont in catering to our present necessities.. Every man has his sphere, and can be great in hie way, even in his humility. Some one has said that even if he were nothing bat a bootblack he would strive to be the bbat bootblaok iu London. And so in every depart* ment there is a point of excellence greater than has yet been attanied?one step nearer to perfection than has yet been occupied.? But this point cau never be reached without a perseverance so strong and so determined that it cannot and will not be turned aside. We canQot indeed be all great Generals nor great Presidents, but we can be great oar-, penters or blacksmiths, or tailors, or meroh auioy vi gicau wcu. We are all aiming at greatness in some* thing. We are fighting the great battle of life. We aro running a great race either for fame, for favor or for gold. And shall we give it up when just begun, wbeu but half over, or just as we are about to realise the victory ? Wc say no, 'never give up the ship' while there is rag of sail, 'never say die,' but struggle on and on, until persever* ance crowns your efforts with success.? Whatever may be your pursuit do not turn to this side nor to that, but stick to your calling until you have reached an eminence worthy of your aim and honorable in itself. agy On the 16th of August, the foundation stone of the new 'tabernacle' for the Rev. Mr. Spurgeon, was laid in Londdn, in the presence of about 3,000 spectators. The edifice will comfortably accomodate 5,000 persons, and will have spacious school and lecture rooms, the whole costing about ?25,-', 000. Addresses were delivered by Rev. L Mr. Spurgeon, Rev. Mr. Inskip aod Sir > S. M. Peteo, a member of Parliament. Thfc t-1 a -- at-- * assemmage present on me occasion suDSCnbed nearly ?5,000, of which ?8,000 given by one gentleman, and ?100 by Mr. Spurgeon himself, towards erecting th$h$pd8* r S&" One of the moat terrible battles of history was fought in 1814, 'one glorious summer day at Bannockburn' in Scotland. The English army of 100,000 men, under.Edward IT. was totally defeated by the Scots, 30,000, under Bruce. The loss of the English was 154 earls, barons and knights, 700 gentlemen, and upwards of 10,000 common soldiers. This vast slaughter was affected by battle axes, swords, spears, and othar weapons of the feudal and neighboring eras. Robert Bruce, with his own hand, destroyed a large number of men. S&" 'Mr. Merchant, I've traded with you a great deal, and paid you up promptly and honestly, hav'nt IV 'O, yes,' said the merchant 'I make no complaint/ 'Well/ said the customer, <1 always insisted that honesty, is the best policy, and the best rule to live and die hv.' 'That's an.' renlipd the j ?/ -~r~? ? merchant. And the customer tamed to depart. 'Holdon, friend,' cried the merchant; 'speaking of honesty, I have a bit of advice to give you. "Whenever you come to trade again, you had better wear a longer coat, or steal a shorter cod-fish.' A recent traveller in Switzerland says of farms and farming in that country, that no good terraced land can be had there for less than 84000 to 87000 per acre, and the quantity of such land is one per cent, of the entire territory. No man owns more than ten to fifteen acres of such ground. In that country investments are made for seourity rather than profit, and 2} per cent, is usually satisfactory. J^*Tke Chattanooga Advertiser of the 25th says, the vineyard of Mr. A. Servin, a few miles from the place, will produce an immense quantity of grapes, and that the enterprising proprietor will make from seven to ten thousand gallons of wine the coming Fall. A great deal of attention is paid to the growth of the grape by parties in the vicinity of Knoxville. ggrThe last Legislature of Michigan pass ?? ??? CU OU ttUU UUJpUTTCUUg OUJf UUUJVC1 VI villi* zeas, not less than tea, or more than one hundred, to organize themselves into a body corporate 'for the pnrpose of apprehending horse thieves and other felons/ and invest* ing each member of such body, when en* gaged in making an arrest, with the powers