Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, January 05, 1860, Image 1
lewis h. grist, proprietor. | f An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. J?2 pee atouk nr ajtahce.
VOL. 6. | Y<jRKYILLE, S. C., THTJBSPAY, JANUARY 5, I860. 3STO. JL.
I Anginal |M*g.:
^ Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
BOS A.
JS^ BY WILLIAM M. MAETUf.
Oh! Rosa knows where grows a rose,
Beneath a willow tree,
Where musio swells from Lily bells
In sweetest melody.
'Twaa there we sat in summer time,
Beneath soft, star-lit skies,
And heard the distantjvesper-chime
When evening prayers arise;
And from my heart a prayer nprose
To God, to guard my lovely Rose.
A crown, she wound, and bound around J
With roses gorgeously,
(It was a sprig, a bending twig
Prom off the willow tree)
And with the roses did entwine
Pansies and King-cnps bright,
With tendrils from the Eglantine, I
And Lilies purely white;
Then crowned with beauty, she aros^ !
Herself a rose, my blushing Rose. |
With queenly mien serenely Been,
While vassals crowded round,
(The bending beaux, saluting Rose) '
Was Rose with roses crowned ;
And where she moved with stately pnoo
A "Glory" seemed to shine
Around her head and on her face,
With radiance all divine; "
JL J
And there I swore "come joys or wes
My soul's own queen is lovely Ros(' i
Oh! bright the light (and quite as>riglr
The light in Rosa's eye)
Which shone from walls in marblklalls,
When mirth was rising high;
And joyous maidens gleeful laugh*
Amid the merry dance,
While wine, from brimmiug beakaqua?,
Was bright as maiden's glance ; .
And when the goblets high uprost
We drained them dry to lovely Rtf
I
Though rare and fair, there's noi?o dar
Among the inuiaen laroag,
Whose smiles are bright with Loyafrn ligfrt,
Whose hearts gash forth in song '
Oh ! in the heavenly courts abov
Beside th' Eternal Throne
There's naught more pure than je love
Of her I call my own;
And purely from my heart outy
A wealth of lore for lorely Rot
|lii Anginal
WRITTEN* FOR THE TORKVILLE HIRER.
"STAR.'
m
BY MRS. MARY A. DES)X.
CHAPTER It'
THE VILLA. i
A charmiDg villa has just beaomildtd
on the banks of the Hudson, kvetaks
the busy scene where mingle tbeveroijying
sails, the bluff pipes of thelaint,ftd
the tapering spars and gracefuhllsff he
yachts, skimming the water likfirds
Hills, rich in emerald andiirph 3^6,
stand ambitiously around it.-B?re|bleback
rocks, glistening, vivid iooloitecae
shapely, some shapeless, riaboldlyipin
huge masses from the very war's edp, it
the pretty home just built,Dwersebte
them. You can see the crea'shad ofts
painting between those two-ung ains?
The lawn just comes in eigb-smo*b-saven
and sparkling in the eaisun. Ho^y
trees stand branching out, tbgreafdra|d
arms spread over the clusterafittle japlLrs
?child-trees, sporting in : presencef
their elders.
There is promise of fcellars in te
waving corn?the wheat fie the pleaat
orchards?the acres upon ts bloomr*,
brightening with the richxlucts of ie
teeming earth.
What a sky this mor^! It isle
that seen often in the tropieldom iair
colder clime. There seemroivn oveits
vast expanse a thin veil of aerial n?t,
that makes the atraosphereJIy Iumiois
?tinging inanimate naturith a pecuar
vividness of coloring.
The blood flows in gushCirrents,he
heart pulsates more rapi Thi cbek
flushes. The soul warmeth imploag
gratitude. Life seems s to
fail. God is recognized bus? as wel as
by faith as we drink in ttfc&w wio<of
this soft June wind.
CHAPTER
MARK AND DORA ILTON.
^he cottage of wbich w? spoken, las
the property of Mark Hao, junior.
Mark was a merchaning }n ve&s,
scant in experience. Hap?({,e
said ; a graduate of \ all 8o far> V(.y
successful in business.
His commercial and ru.r&cter, seeaed
well established. He little 'fast'?
in fact?despised old fq Indulgiig
in the luxuries of a maniiO0) },e
his horse, smoked the cl^etd, atteaded
the theatre, the opei^ sometim?,
the church.
His wife was a blondeile, dinging:,
tender?she was what re to iken to
a vine?and just as heltStiCh women
are very pretty and int?, calculated
for rich husbands, who, V, in the day
of adversity, shrug thei^rs anq wiBh
the vine was somethings,
Mrs. Hamilton had , a boarding
school, where she had le> write billet
M doux, under the imprest love-notes
W were belles letters. Sy a little of
p foreign countries, but , a ijtt)e 0f
her own. A profound ^ for poverty
. 4" characterized her; in orjcumgtatceg
L she was as passionless
A sensitive spirit w^jj from ihc
* glance of her cold blue Jfant thot^h
S they were. A child wer g0 t0 ier
in its trouble. Howe not B0
i
r
touch to blame for being what fashion and a
Ieartless mother had made her.
Mark Hamilton ministered to his pride as
inch as his love, in choosing her for a wife,
he had been celebrated as a belle. It was
master-stroke to cage the bird in the triumph
of its widest, wildest liberty. Three
years had compassed their married life, and
pora was yet but twenty-one.
1 Society is an artist with great capacities,
rat no soul. Dora was only twenty-one and
1 calculating woman of the world, glorying
to the title accorded her?an 'ornament to
lociety.' Only with a heart shining in those
beautiful eyes, she would have been supremely
lovely. That wanting, what availed
the chiseled features?the form of surpassing
grace ? Dora was as devotedly attached
to her wardrobe as she was to her
husband. Her boudoir was a miracle of
convenience and elegance. An only child?
luxury bad always been her lot. It was not
strange that people called her placid selfishness,
amiability.
Tha vnnncr mfimhant. wn? verv wall win.
tent with her. She was exhibited with an
air of triumph to his friends, and petted to
death at home. Whatever she wanted, she
had, if it could possibly be procured. Her
father had left her a few thousands, most
of which she had spent in luxuries. To be
beautiful?to be admired, was the height of
her ambition.
CHAPTER in.
TEE BREAKFAST ROOM.
It looked out upon the lawn. Delicate,
gold-tinted paper adorned its walls, and
sun-lustred as it was now, the effect was
very striking. It is not necessary to enter
into the details of its surroundings, save to
say that it enclosed pictures, statues, and a
bird in a gilt cage, that swung in the wide
bay-window. Through the lace-folds of cur
tains, streamed great masses of light, reddened
with the day's new glory.
Mark sat in a careless attitude near one
of the windows, with the morning paper in
his hand. He glanced up at the sound of
a foot-step. Dora came in, and with a pleasant
smile?her husband sprang to his feet.
Beautiful morning, isn't it?' she said,
languidly, sauntering toward him.
'Beautiful!' he echoed, half in compliment
to her, as he gazed admiringly upon
her.
Let me give her credit for one good trait
She invariably took pains with her morninj
toilet.
Nothing so soon banishes the lover in .til j
husband, as a negligent appearance in to
rresnest, sweetest part ot- tne aay.v.
and all flowers look their loveliest in thl
morning ; so should a woman. j
There was no poetry in the scene to Dot.
She glanced aboutas she had for years, raebly
remarking that 'wer'nt there a great m?y
roses this season ? and would'nt it be a godi
j plan to save the leaves and make rose-wat* ?
! It was so nice for the complexion !' i
'Time for breakfast my lovesaid jong
i Hamilton, with a graceful stretch if lis
'arms. . j \
Dora touched a tiny bell and soon ii cape
i tU a f kft o m r? f ao urn fl>A
LUC OH V Ci tucoiuuatug bca-uiuy uuc
Mocha?which Dora, for the sake cf tlctt
idolized complexion, never drank?tie tofit
J and other et ceteras.
They made a pretty family picture Don
wore the least possible bit of a oTj with
! blue ribbons, and a bluepejnoir beajtifuty
; embroidered. The sun glanced agabst the
: service, making it glitter as if overlad witi
diamond dust. The water in the glafi pitcher
caused a flickering golden shtdow of
bright waves to play upon the ceilhg.
'A prospect of hard times, they saj Dora.'
Dora opened her large eyes wije.r, but.
I beyond an 'indeed!' said nothing, j
'Yes, Simpkins has failed?yonremem-!
ber the magnificent party he gtve?and
there's a pretty hard run upon thebanks;'
replied Mark Hamilton.
'Yes ?' responded Dora, in the ferm of a
query. 'Well,' she added, quietly 'I wish
' before you fail, I could get that shawl at I
Stewart's. I should like once j) wear a
; thousand dollar shawl, if only forthe picasure
of outdoing Ida Blanchard.'
'A mighty motive, upon my w?rd,' said
Mark, laughing. 'Why, Dara,jif you're
really in earnest about that shawljI'll draw
a thousand dollars and you shfll rave it.?
That will leave u? nine tbouaindin funds,
you know. As to failing, with inyfetock paid
for, and my father to back de tp, I don't
jfeel any fear. You shall h^ve Ihe shawl,
i Dora, if it is going to make voj any hapj
pier.'
'Thank you, ten thousand timet!'
How her eyes sparkled n<*! You would j
have thought there was sojl iu them, but
it was only the borrowed lijbt of vanity.?
; How the cheeks flushed ! end the red lips
'leaped to his forehead.
I -T oolj- tkl f .)
j *1 QiUU t uaic tu ooiv vim lavui ui JUU j
Rhe continued, 'because Ikoew you had
J money out, as you call it, aid couldn't very
i well command it.'
14
'No dear?it is'nt out yd?I'm about deciding:
whether to take anyof theb, nkstoek
j Wilbur offers, or the shres of Lawson's.
j By Jove! if there shouldbe a real panic
in the money-market, I'll fcrn shuver. Some
men could make forty tfcusand with ten,
and do it easily.'
j 'I'm sure I would if Iould;' replied his
wife.
'But it seems moan bsiness to take advantage
of a man's neceiities.'
'Still you do them a f?or?they want the
money and are willing ttpay in proportion,
I suppose. I'm sure I hould be. It may
:save them from ultimas ruin, and if you
don't do it, some body-dse will.'
That's a bright thaght, Dora. To be
sure, after all, it's but pying oneself for ac
commodating others. don't know that its
1 taking any advantage ether, when in some
cases they fairly beg i and consider it a
God-send any way. Bt I'll see what Lawrence
says'
?0! pray, don't, be ted to Lawrence, my
dear!' and up went th pretty white hands.
Don't you see he is coapletely ruled by that
little puritanical wife if his, in everything ?
I'm sure?homro*r brother ever came to
marry that litdTdswdy, I can't imagine.?
Whenever I wait; there, which is very seldom,
I come ^ay 88 dull as death. Lawrence
is too fitp o fellow to be fastened to a
woman's aprof strings.'
<0! now?fort?my love?you are much
too severe, fawrence, to be sure, lives in a
most unfashfmable house, but then it is
oheerful, an/ within, really elegant. And
as for Maryiei?g a dowdy, confess that you
spoke too fit mere, my dear.'
'Any wofan,' exolaimed Dora, with due
solemnity apd)>roper emphasis, 'any woman
who will w/uT* ninepenny print and a shil
ling necessity, be a dowdy!'
Mark lacgbed.
'Well, fefl?I never knew whether her
dress was! ;ninepenny print or a ten shilling
merijK^' replied. <She certainly always
looks Jady-like.'
'Yes, wd that's all the thanks we women
of taste f?r our pains. You have no
discrimitttion, sir;' said Dora, with a
childisbpqutMark'prngged
his shoulders.
1You ?ways look woll, my love?but I'm
sure I d^er stop to think what makes you
?you #ena beautiful of yourself.'
Thiaibarming little domestic and diplomatic
ajjfoke, molified the petted wife. The
banish# smiles returned.
?nioke the car, I believe, this morning;'
said #rk, springing to his feet at the souifd
of a ditant whistle. <1 have ten minutes.
If I'ahome late, remember, business detains^?
CHAPTER IV. .
THE FORE8TALLEE.
Al the depot, just in time. The cars were
fulW-no seat was visible. Some one called
in-ijquick, sharp voice?
-Mr. Hamilton !'
<?his way, sir.' AJgloved hand beckoned.
Hif moved forward unsteadily, and found
httself by the side of an influential merofint,
with whom he sometimes had commercial
dealings.
J'Mr. Carlisle?I am happy to see you
said Mark.
' 'Obliged to you. You are looking finely
fter your night's repose in the country;'
feturned the other.
I 'Have you been tartherontr queried
Mark.
<Yes, up to Winchester's; fine place that
of his, very fine. You know Winchester,
firm of Prebbles and Hawk ? We are engaCOsLtogether
jn buying up wheat. It will
pay, sir?a first rate season, sir.'
^.^lark respnndcTpkefpfnj-vH*- ?y?1 *he
while, upon the luxuriant fielcX- along which
the wheat glistened, as if showers of silver
were poured upon it. The merchant, Carlisle,
bent his elbow on the seat before him.
lie had been holding a chat with a person
habited in a rustic suit of gray, whose appearance
indicated his primitive habits.?
Hiram Butts was a prosperous farmer, originally
a VermoDt boy, and had emigrated to
the West twenty years before, a lad of sixteen.
There, denied the privileges of education,
the church, the lecture, for many
seasons, he had grown up uncouth, unlearned,
but shrewd, calculating, and rigidly
honest. By his side sat his wife, a good
looking, oldish woman, with keen black
eyes, small features and sunburnt face.?
Her dress indicated a total want of genuine
taste, but made up in profusion and gay
coloring, what it lacked in harmony and
grace.
A bonnet, not so small as the then prevailing
fashion, but sufficiently so to disclose
her profile, was tied tightly under her
chin. Outside aod inside, it was covered
with flowers, ribbons and lace. A crimson
shawl with an unusual pattern-border, a
?owo of many colors, a pair of large black
kid gloves, and an enormous breast-pin, completed
her attire.
Very different from these people, were
their children, the occupants of the opposite
seat, a twin-biother and sister. So nearly
alike were they in voice, look and manner,
that they attracted the attention of the passengers.
Both were small and somewhat
delicate in appearance, though they were
nineteen?both were remarkably beautiful,
and blushed often at the curious looks that
were bent upon them from time to time.?
They were all going to New York to visit
relatives whom they had not seen for many
yoars.
?Who are yoar consignees in New York T
asked Mr. Carlisle, taking up the convcrsatlon,
broken by the entrance of Ma:k, while
the farmer partly squared himself round.
'Wal?Davii?Hiram Davis?heard o'
him, I reckon. Davis is my particklar chum
in the manageneDto' business. He gen'ly
takes the Jnil o my wheat?fair dealin.too
?good customtr; pays ia hard goold;' und
he jingled somt loose change in his pocket.
'Well, what does he give you ?'
'Dollar and a shilling, sir, for my wheat
as it stands. Fiist rate red Ohio; prime article
and as fulliu the head as Yarmountis
full of rocks?tlat's so!
'I'll give youten shillings as it standscome,'
said thenerchant in an undertone.
.xr TT !>__.! v . 1 o
'j>ow, you n ram : exciaimea tne farmer's
wife iu a wiisper, placing her foot ot
his boot.
'Don't trea^ (? my cornscried Hiram
Butts with the nanner of an injured man,
which was answffed with a very brief, suppressed
'hold yotr tongue '
'Don't you beafraid, old lady;' exclaimed
the farmer?*-eckon I shan't do nothin'
that'll harm me under the circumstances.
I ain't up for wait of friends, however, by
no means. But.heu,' and he turned farthcr
about, ?I Ike to do the fair thing by
old customers, a?d as Davis and I've allocs
had dealing with >ne another?why I don't
like to be meanp.bout it?aud it wouldn t
seem just the thog?now, would it seem
honest?honor bight?to snap off all ai
once ?'
?0! very well-just as you like,' replied
the merchant, drrwing back stiffly. <1 made
you the offer anc'am ready to pay you the
money in hard pld, at advanced prices?
but of course yoi are at liberty to refuse.'?
, A
And with a careless wave of the hand he
turned airuy.^
Mark had been watching the bluff, red
linearaen:; of the Western fanner, but now
Carlisle turned his attention to the topics of
the day.
'Money is pretty tighthe said.
. 'Yes,' replied the young man, 'the papers
are, as usual, dull and wise, rewarding and
recommending. Do you think there really
will be a panic in the money marketj or is
it only a false alarm V
'Undoubtedly there's truth in it;' replied
Carlisle. 'We sneenlntnrs know the nulse
r r
of the market pretty well. Winchester and
I are looking out for nnmberone, you sec?
buying op all the wheat we can find, for flour
will be flour this year, I can tell you. Prebbles
has ton thousand barrels already stored.
We have tremendous ware-bouses, and we
expect to fill them to the roof. If we get
ahead of the market, and undoubtedly we
shall, we i-ealize a handsome fortune. But
then, of course, we run enormous risks as
you must be aware/
'What do you consider the safest investment
for ten thousand ?' asked Mark, to
whom the idea of speculation was as fascinating
as no most young men. '
'Lend it at good rates;' was the reply;
'bond and mortgage never fail if a man has
common discretion and business tact.' His
face lighted up with a singular glow. 'If
you want no double, aye ! treble and quadruple
your money, lend it to men, who are
hard up. They'll pay any thing for a present
accommodation.'
- Meanwhile, the farmer and his wife held
an earnest consultation.'
'He's one o' them pesky speculators, you
may depend on it,' said the woman, 'what
keep yittles and things so high that poor
folks have to starve.'
'I reckon not, old 'ooman;' replied the
fanner?'and even say't he is, what's that
to us? We an't spee'lators, are we? And
ain't we bound to git the highest prices ? I
tell you, forty or fifty dollars '11 be something
to brag of, that's so ! Besides, the faster
we raise the money the sooner them mortgages
?il be swept off, and the sooner Bogus
'11 go to college. And don't you see, little
Star '11 learn the pianny?'
'But won't Davis be orful mad '
'Don't care if he is. Reckon there's
rtfVvoi" frtllra in Via nrnrl/l Viooirina TT i'am
UblK.1 XV1IXO 1U VUU nuuu Xil UUi
Butts. Guess there be. It'll stump 'em
though to scare up a better managed farm
in all Ontario. Davis don't care who he
buys of?'course he don't. I guess I'll sell
to this chap?shant git another such chance.
Look here, Mister?what's your name ? I'll
have to sell you that ar wheat, being's it's
you;' he added, attempting jocoseuess.
The great man put off his dignity and
condescended to tap the farmer on the
shoulder, as he said, 'that's right my good
friend : you couldn't do better;' and with
this bland assurance, he took out his memoranda
and entered into a closer negotiation.
Mark Hamilton was, weanwhile, left to his
own reflections, and the bewildering prospect
that the merchant had spread before hisvison.
Luxuries unthought of before, but
tempting as the fruit in the desert to the
parched traveller, had assumed a sudden importance
to him. The power unbounded
wealth would give; the ease with which he
might accumulate and make his little inheritance
a princely fortune; the regal
luauaiuu ; OJUV;UUIU CljUipaye j lUtJ lUicl^U
tour; all opsned up to his excited imagiuation,
a splendid panorama of delights.
The cars stopped. The engine was replaced
by horses. One after another the passengers
left for their different homes, or
places of business. The merchant, Carlisle,
with oily suavity, took leave of the honest
farmer, not forgetting to compliment his
wife and praise his children. Then walking
on with Mark Hamilton, he resumed
the conversation.
'You see;' he said, 'ten thousand dollars
was just the capital I commenced with.?
Doubled it, sir, in three weeks. Times were
not as hard as they are now ; I could quadruple
it to-day. I know twenty men thic
very morning, who are spotted, sir. Some
could do with less, some with more?but
they'd pay enormously and give splendid
security. A man sir, with a shrewd eye
and quick ear, should never remain poor.
Where's the sense of plodding all one's life,
tied to a mus ty ledger and one dull round of
business? No! I'm for doing things up
fast. Might as well have means in middle
life as old age.'
'So I say;'* cried Mark, warming up.
'Certainly?what enjoyment can a man
take when he is old? His hands are palsied,
his eye is dim, his senses are dulled, his
feet stiffened with age. He relishes no
beauty outside his own door-steps?wishes
only to rest, to sleep, to hear his fogy newspaper
read, listen to one sermon a week from
his favorite theologian, and sink as quietly
and as painlessly into the grave as nature
will let him. That's not vij ideal. No,
uo'?he added with a shrug?'I wish to
taste as I go, of all the wines of life?and
when I get to the lees, I shall at least have
the remembered richness to console me.'
'Lawrence goes in for the legitimate principles
of trade as he calls them;' said Mark '
?'says a man sleeps with a bettor con- '
cience who makes haste slowly, and looks the 1
future in the face, with a steadier eye.'
'Conscience ;' said Carlisle with a sneer
and a shrewd nod. 'Between you and me, 1
the conscience of a business man ought not (
to lie in his pocket. Make money?make 1
money ! why not you as well as others ? You 1
would not hoard it, nor throw it away, but. '
do good with it and enjoy yourself. Come, '
you say you have ten thousand lying still;
I'll show you how to make it lively. Come 1
up to Willis'; he gives a great supper to- '
night, and I have tickets. In these gay i
places men go sometimes to drown their (
cares, and I'll pick you out ten or twelve, 1
any one of whom would be willing to give
you thirty, or even fifty dollars on the hun- i
dred, for the sake of a temporary loan of s
hard cash. Of course you would'nt be down I
on 'em in that way?but at a much lower j
figure, you would make money in a hurry.' i
3 'Willis*!?that's a gambling concern
isn't it?' c
Well?they do play there, gentlemen? r
yon know?bat so they do at most of these a
crack places?come go there this evening ; f
Mtb. Hamilton is not jealous of your night- c
key, is she ?' i
'.The young man paused a moment to think, s
His evenings had been rather dull, lately, t
Dora was poor company when they were s
alohe-i-always excusing herself from play- v
ing or singing, and being much more in- c
dined to dwell upon the mishaps of the day, t
than tp talk of its pleasures. Besides, the t
progpeot of doubling bis money?the chan- t
ces of winning a fortune?these weighed in t
bis wavering mind more tnan tne ireuui s
complainings of Dora, who would, be knew,
make him miserable if be chanced to stay
beyond his allotted time.
CHAPTER Y.
THE GROCERY.
A little child pot up its red hand over the
counter, and a little voice asked for a peony's
worth of salt. The grocer's boy smiled
at the lisping sound, apd began to banter
the little maid, whose brown cnrls were all
of a tangle. 4 . . ;
'Don't trouble her, Horace;' said a handsome,
portly man, looking out of bis officedoor.
'Always wait upon the children as
quickly as any one else. All io their turn,
Horace?all in their turn.'
The voice wasjso cherry j so full of heartmusic
! In a twinkling, the salt was in the
chubby fingers of the little girl, and she had
gone .
A damp, but not unpleasant sweetish
smell, filled the precincts of that corner
grocery. It was a trim, neat place. The
floor always looked moist, as if it and the
scrubbing cloth were on the best of terras.
It was always clean-sanded, and on the shining
counter, not a weight was out of place
?not a scrap of paper disfigured its entire
length. Casks and barrels were noted for
their strict propriety of position?their uniformity
of expression. The basket of clothespins
always stood in one place, on the left
of the door. The barrel of pickles never
presumed to move from the end of the
counter. There was a charming air of order,
of graceful utility, diffused over the
whole place. The harmony everywhere
apparent, shortened long faces, and brightened
up short ones. Lawrence Hamilton seldom
had any but smiling customers?he
was always laughing himself. His very
shop seemed to smile on passengers as they
went by, and drew men in sometimes, when
a:.), .r :? j ,u? ;i?
tuvgr U1UU L til ill li Ul UUIUIU^ ttUU tllUOUJllC '
would penetrate to their pockets ; so that '
they would be sure to carry home something I
good from Lawrence Hamilton's shop, that s
would set wives and babies smiling. So '
there was a general smile all round?(not
that wicked smile which sends men out 1
staggering where they walked in straight '
and sober)?and people liked to trade at '
Lawrence Hamilton's grocery?liked to <
pass by of evenings, when it was fairly I
laughing with light.
No sooner had the little red-fisted, chub- 1
by child, with tangled curls, gone out, than '
in an opening near the centre of the shop, 1
shone another face. It was a cherry, sunshiny,
happy, social little face, with wavy
curls, floating off from heathful, rosy cheeks. :
It bad two specks of pink ribbon belonging to
a gauzy little cap, tied under the chin?its i
eyes sparkled as they scanned the precincts,
to see if any body was near. Two hands
were deliberately wiped on a wide, white
linen, well-flowered apron, that enveloped
all the pretty figure?then the hands, clean- j
ed of their clean soiling, sraothed, or tried i
to smooth, the floating, gloss^ curls.
'Lawrence?Oh! Horace !'?to the shopboy?'you're
there. Please haud me a lit
tie soaa win you. ? ny .Liawrence : 'now you
startled roe !' and with a musical laugh she ,
drew back at an explosive sound, the result ,
of the grocer's blowing up a paper bag and ;
striking it against the wall. ,
'Well, little woman, what are you after |
now?' A blushing of pride and happiness j
made his handsome face still handsomer, (
as Lawrence Hamilton stood on the inside ,
of his counter, leaning negligently against ,
it. 1
'Soda, dear, I'm all out. Sis Mayfield \
came in to see Tiney, and take tea with her. (
So Dothing would do, but I must make some \
of my soda-cakes. Thank you, Horace; t
that's a nice package?it will last me a year. c
Lawrence, supper will be ready in half an ^
hour. Do see me with a flowered-apron a
over a black silk-dress !' and with a light, 1
pretty laugh, she retreated, while the smile t
stayed by the lips of Lawrence Hamilton, as f
he bent again over his ledger. a
Mary, happy wife and mother, tripped t
into her great kitchen, that shone with sun- t
light, like the shop, and was as neat and c
tasteful. A vivacious red-white flame sprang
up from the dry wood in the fire-place. A y
loquacious kettle, whose very spout had
character, sang a chorus to the snapping .
fuel. A white cat with a black set of stockings,
blinked drowsily at the fire.
'Bilba,' said the mistress, 'I think you
had better be getting the table ready. Put ^
on one of the damask cloths?it pleases the t
children when they have company. The ^
little things like to be treated as guests,
too/ k
Bilba, was a stout and good looking hand- v
;J _ *ni i_ _ 1 tt r .
maiaeo?a r'emisn gin. neriace was mot- t:
tied with white and red?her sandy hair h
was carried smoothly back and tucked un- p
der a linen cap. A free and easy gracious- j|
aess twinkled in her blue eye, and sat on a
her large, but not unhandsome mouth. t|
'I'm sure I'll never be tired of doin' up h
them things for such children/ said Bilba,
hurrying to the side-board drawers, and ta- ^
iiDg out an armful of linen. 'I'll set the t<
jxtra leaf of the table, too, Miss Hamilton, Ci
should you say so, and put on fruit cake.' 8j
?Yes ! use your own judgment Bilba. Ti- g
aey may want her china tea-things on her a
side of the table. If she says aoything a- ti
xmt it, let her have them. She is such a good ai
girl, and enjoys her little company so ci
uuch!' h
The white cakes were baking in the t
latch oven, when Mary went into the di- 1
ling room. The table, with its snowy oloth t
ind old fashioned silver, looked delicately v
ine enough for a royal gaest. The bright c
arpet smiled up at her; so did the old fash- s
oned pictures on the wall smile down. The t
an threw a glorious shower of light over
he waxed furniture, that gave the room c
uch a look of comfort 1 She gazed about (
71th a satisfied glance, and said as she pla- i
ied the creamer farther from the edge of i
he table--<after all, I like my own homely a
hings as well as any I see. Dora Hamil- e
on may have more fashion and display, but t
here's one thing she can't have more of? 1
ind that's happiness.'
Mother?mother?Oh 1 the table is just
ight?bow beautiful! I ran to tell you
hat I saw uncle Mark standing on the corjer,
and he crossed over. I shouldn't wonler
if he's in the shop; I shouldn't wonder
f he comes to tea !'
She was very pretty, that bright and anghing
Medea (Medora was her name) a ?
lelicate edition of her mother, only her s
srow was wider and more thoughtful; her T,
jyes more luminous and a little larger, while t
here was a Titian tint of richness in the I
;olden ohesnut waves of her hair. (
<1 am very glad?we're quite ready, you t
see. I had the table prepared for Tiney's (
little company.' . * 1
?0! mother?how kind ! how thoughtful!
Fou don't seem to think, as some do, that \
anything will do for children. It does look (
beautiful!?and so do you.' With a kiss <
ind a laugh, away she ran to see baby, i
while Bilba hurried to the door to let in i
Mark Hamilton, and then hurried back to 1
:ake up tea for the table. I
Mark was ushered into the dining room, <
where every thing was so shining, so home- i
like and cheerful, that he stood rubbing his t
bands and looking about him with a smile <
lie had caught from the grocery. I
'Sit down Mark?ait down. No style
bere, as you know, but genuine home-hap- 1
piness. Come little wife?where are the s
sirdies. 0! here they are?and little sis 1
Mayfield. God bless my heart! come to I
play with Tincy, eh ? Marshall, my son ! I
?do you see your uncle ? You must know,
Mark, that Marshall takes famously to '
study?and?and ahall I say it, Marsh ? I
to poetry?that makes him absent-minded ]
?and so we quiz him sometimes.' * (
Mark Hamilton was light-hearted that I
svening. He was always light-hearted, i
when he came to see his brother. The sun i
seemed more golden, as it streamed across I
the table in that bright room. Lawrence i
was handsome?so was his wife?so were I
their children. And then they had always i
something sensible to talk about. It was
not dress eternally?it was scandal?never. <
[f such a thing was hinted at?the father's <
'Look on the bright side, children?the s
bright side?don't pick flaws in your neigh- i
bors?' invariably silenced them. They i
shatted and ate, and Mark did not grow
tired of the table. On the contrary, he :
leaned back and kept them still talking, to :
the manifest uneasiness of the mottled Bilba,
who wanted a long, evening with her
German sweetheart. Business was not even <
hinted. Lawrence had made that a rule at
bis meals?and all was peace and pleasantness.
j
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
Original papers. ;
i
For tbo Yorkvillc Enquirer.
T.-RTfiTTR/R STTRmnTTRS TOV, YT '
by j. wood davidson. 1
SEEING THE PRESIDENT.
We chose a morning levee to pay onr
respects to the President. At one o'clock,
accordingly, we made our way to the White
House. The delay in the ante-room was ^
lot great, as some visitors seem to have
found it. We were shown up and ushered
nto the presence in the usual style; one of 1
jur party being introduced to the President, [
vho received us at the door, presented the
est of us. We were severally greeted by
aim in a genial and easy manner. His %
rearing is free and dispels at once all idea
>f constraint; and his cordial shake of the j
land with the accompanying "I am glad
o see you"?"happy to know you"?"very
;lad, Sir"?"Happy, Madam, to meet 8
rou"?"Obliged to you for the pleasure"? *
ind so forth, impress one pleasantly enough.
\fter a few words of conversation, regula- v
ed as to length of time by the pressure 8
rom the door, the visitor makes way in ;
ind remains there only till a favorable nio- 1
nent for egress presents itself, when he ^
akes leave by paying his adieus to his Ex:elleney,
and retires.
Mr. BucnANAN is a tall man; large,
mt not at all heavy. His hair and cravat ^
re both white. He was plainly dressed
n frock coat, black pants, and small-checked a
est. His presence is fine. He is handomer
than the pictures I have seen. The (
;eneral openness of his countenance is not ?
pecially marred by that peculiar contrac- !'
ion of one eye; and yet it strikes one's at- ?
ention instantly. - His bearing is elevated a
without being at all commanding, free but
t . 1 * a j !!!__ __ 3 0
[gat, pleasant, reooea, cuizen-iiKC ana i
ery slightly official. During the short ^
ime our party remained in his presence,
e conversed freely, bandying commonlaces
with no mean dexterity. He said, ~
Qcidentally, conversing with us: "lam tl
licays glad to seethe ladies, especially ial
hose from South Carolina, since, as wo hi
ear, she has lately come back into the ^
Juion; and that accords with the princi g1
les of the ladies always." I have indica- h:
2d by italics his peculiar emphasis. In c'
onversatiou he emphasises very markedly, ^
peakiDg always deliberately, with a bland,
rave voice. Ho does not look much like 81
bachelor?too venerable and paternal for aJ
rat, rather?but his exceeding blandness U1
nd the deferential courtesy with which he ai
rmpliments ladies, tell unmistakably that
e is no benedict. I overheard him reply w
o some remark which I did cot bear:?
'Yes, sometimes gentleman are; ladies
lever?ladies are never troublesome?always
more than agreeable." By such incidentals
the old man lets it oat that his
oul is yet unsubdued?yet unbroken to
he yoke! *
We took our leaves. We retired. rThe
leed was done?we had seen the President.
)ne of the inalienable rights, which doubtess
Jefferson meant to embrace somewhere
n bis trinne categories of "life, liberty,
md the pursuit of happiness," to which
svery American citizen lays claim?one of
bese rights had been enjoyed. We drove
jack to Willard'a; and dined at three.
Columbia, S. C.
For the Yorkvtlle Enquirer.
REVERIES OF~A BACHELOR.
BT WILLIE LIOHTHIABT.
Snug ? Well, yes j the fire is very warm
?plenty of books, papers, and magazines;
i nice carpet upon the floor; several bandlome
paintings suspended around the walls,
[here is the commodious easyrchair right
jefore the fire; the soft cushioned sofa near
)y?there are the nicely dusted walnut
jhairs, desk, book-case, and marble-topped
;able ; and in that corner over .yonder is
jne of the warmest, coziest, snugest little
seds that ever & fellow slept upon.
Snug ? Quite so, .when a man wants to
write a letter, romance, sketch or poem.?
jrlorious, when one wants to smoke a quiet
;igar, and lie back in the easy-chair after
i long walk. Splendiferous, when one
vants to read the last magazine, or review
lis Latin and French ; but when all this
bas been done, I want to have a little sp;ial
chat by the fire with somebody I love,
md there is nobody there; though l am
itrongly impressed with the belief that my
;asy chair would accomodate tyro young
people very nicely. ,
Oh! Oh! For the life of me, I cannot
lelp making the exclamation. The heart
says, Oh !?the weary head, and poor tired
ingers say, Oh 1 and, therefore, it will come
from between the lips and ruffle my mous;aohe.
; P
I wonder what that exclamation means ?
Bless me ! there are plenty of books about
the room, if I want to read; whole files of
papers?literary, scientific and agricultural;
there's this story, and that, and the-other,
to be finished, before many weeks; then
Snobs, the printer, wants a New Year's
iddress; Snooks wants a pathetic sketch
for his paper, and Rinker wants an original
poem for his Matilda. Plenty of work
to do?but it is not that that makes me
jay Oh!
Now there's Peter Funk, with bair.red
enough to scorch a pillow, and face ugly
enough to frighten a barbarian; and he
lctually had the impudence to get married,
end send out several small editions of his
ugliness upon the world. *
By the way, I wonder how it wonld do
for me to marry ? I don't think I ever
frightened a horse?indeed, I have heard
it stated, that there actually existed uglier
men than myself. Tomkins, who lives.a
cross the street, very maliciously asserted
that I broke his mirror bj looking into it;
but I am sure that it was cracked before,
and would not have fallen from the frame
bad not Peter Funk looked over my shoulder.
I wonder if I will ever marry ??if there
ever will come a time when the gentle tread
of woman shall be heard upon this floor?
the low-spoken words of woman fall.sweetly
npon my ear, and her dear lips "welcome
Willie home ?" I wonder if ever I
shall see a woman in that easy-chair making
a bib for a baby, asleep in the cradle,
ind nurse warming the pap by that identical
hearth? How nice and comfortable
that sounds !?and, as I live, there goes
mother sigh !
I wonder if I would not love wife and
laby, and work the livelong day to make
,hem comfortable and happy??if I would
lot come to the dear home early in the
;veniDg, and talk ever so pleasantly to wife
ill the time ?
How nice it would be ! How happy it
vould make me to bring home something
hat she is fond of?something that would
nake her kiss me, and call me a dear, good
ellow ; and then how pleasant it would be,
ifter the tea things were cleared away, to
it by the fire and read the news to her
vhile she plied the glistening needle.?
Then, when both were tired, how sweet it
rould be to kneel together in family-prayer,
nd call benedictions down upon the little
tousehold; then to go quietlv and haDDilv
0 bed; and with the little baby between |
is, and the blessings of God upon the trio, i
all sweetly asleep.
I wohder if I would'nt be a bett?? man,
f such were the case ??if the unutterable
earnings of the heart would not he abunahtly
satisfied with such treasures, as wife
nd baby, and God's blessing?
Suppose that I never marry. Well, as
ang as youth and health lasts; as long as
dear mother and affectionate sisters are
a the world. I may get along comparatively
easy and comfortably. But, to outlive
11 these 1?to find myself alone when the
dark days" come !?to be left to the tencr
mercies of hired house-keepers, and
ursed by stranger hands in my old age!?
>h! the thought is shocking! <
The idea of an old man without a home i
-having an apartment in some noisy, busing
hotel; or living in some hired garret, 1
ad taking his meals at a public eating- I
ousc; the idea of nobody to meet him at <
le door and call him husband, father, or I
rand papa; to place a chair by the fire for $
im and bring him his warm slipplers; no <
aildren to climb upon his knees and listen I
? bis stories?Oh! Oh! what a thought! i
Bah 1 after all, my room .does not look ?
iug at all, and the fire does not burn half i
1 brightly as usual. That bundle of man- s
script, and that huge pile of newspapers s
e in my way. /I'm siok of this everlast- t
ig read>ug r.ad smoking; and so far as 1
>ntributio;;e to literary papers are concern- t
/
. i
ed, its all a humbug, and dont make me.tf
bit happier! - ; '
I'll get married?see if I dont 1 PU
make a general rush among the girls, and
get somebody to love me that I love more
than anybody in the wide, wide world*
There goes my candle! The room gets
aaI/J OA T oiivtvwusa T mnof am 4a mw triW^flAVIfl
vvill y OV X ouppvov x UJUOV gw M/
coaoh, and dream that I, am an ice-berg,
with a grizzly bear on my' back. Bat I
will have a wife?see if I dont I I'll have
a nice, good, pretty wife' to. lotto land comfort
me before many months; and if I dont
?well, I wont, thats all I . A
I'll bate a young and loving heart jSA
To tbrob in tunc with mioc;
To put the soul's pare tcnd**,,rcnwa^M
sua I.1.L-J u?. ? ?
Something to nerve the spirit up
In the dark days of life;
Something to be my "peace-be-8till,,r
Amid the world's great strife.
And when the wedding cake goes round? <
Whom else I may forget?
I'm sure the "P. Enquirer" shall . .
The biggest pieces get.
THE PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE
On Tuesday, the 27th ulL, the President
communicated his annual Message to the
United States Senate.-We presents synopsis:
After expressing gratitude to the
Almjgbty for blessings throughout the year,'
the President, refere-to the recent bloody
occurence at Harper's Ferry. These eventsj
bad and cruel iu themselves, derive their
chief importance from apprehension?are
but the symptoms of incurable disease in
the public mind, which' may break out stilt
more dangerous outrages, and'terminate in
open war by the North to abolish iefoveiy.
While he-hituself entertains sp such apprehensions,
they ought to afford solemn want
ing to us all to beware of approaching danger.
Let me implore my oountiymeu,
North and South,-to cultivate the auoient
friendly feeling and mutual forbeaiaooe and
j m A 1? 1 .it A^
guuu win wiwarua euuu uiuer. omve tu
alia; the demon spirit of sectional hatred
and strife now alive in the land. This advice
proceeds from the heart of an old publie
functionary, whose service oommenced in
the Jbst generation of the wise, conservative
statesmen of that day; hot he indulges
in no gIdomy-foreb.Qdiogs. He thinks that
the Harpers' Ferry-Affair will be the mean^
of allaying much of tbe previously existing .
sectional excitement and prevent further
outrage. .*
He congratulates Congress on the final4
settlement, by the Sopreme Court, Of the
question of slavery in the Territories,.the
right being established for. anj citizen to
take bis property, including slaves, into fcerL-eJoining
w UlC
federacy, and have it protected there under
the Federal Constitution. Neither Congress, ?
nor any Territorial Legislature, nor any human
power, has any authority to*annul this
vested right. Thus has the st<xtut of a
Territory daring the intermediate period
from its first settlement until it becomes a
State, been irrevocably fixed by thsiioal decision
of the Supreme Court. He then do-,
scribes the mode of admission of a Territory
into the Union as a State. It may be
admitted with or without slavery, as its
OoD&titution may prescribe. This principle
has been reoognized in some form by the al
most unanimous vote of both Houses in the
last Congress.
All lawful means at his command have
been employed,' and will continue to be employed,
against tbeslave trade. Our history
proves that the fathers of our Republic were
in advance of gll other nations in the suppression
of the slave trade.
The ratifications of the Chinese treaty
have been exchanged. Two supplemental
conventions are pending in relation to the
right of Americans in China, and in regard
to the transit duties. The Paraguay diffi
caities fiave been satisiactoruy adjusted.?
Our relations with Franoe, Russia, and all
the Continental Governments of Europe,
Spain excepted, continue most friendly.
His opinion of the acquisition of Cuba
by fair purchase remains unchajged. He,
therefore, again invitesthe serious attention
of Congress to this important subject.
As regards Great Britain, he had good
reason, until recently, to believe he wodM
be able to announce that our difficulties arising
from the Claytou-Bulwer treaty was
finally adjusted in a manner honorable'and
satisfactory to both parties From causes,
however, which Great Britain had not an-?
ticipated, she not yet having completed
treaty arrangements with Nicaragua and
Honduras- pursuant to understanding, he
is at present unable to do so; these fwo
Governments are, however, confidently expected
to have this object shortly accomplished.
In relation to the San Juan difficulty he
Entertains no doubt of our title. But he ^
is happy to state that what has been left to
General Scott's discretion, could not have
been placed in better hands, who has successfully
accomplished his mission. There
is no longer a reason to apprehend a collision
between the respective forces during
the pendency of negotiations.
He regrets that Mexican affairs are unimproved.
He speaks on the subject at
leDgth. Outrages of the worst description
are committed on persons and property.?
Scarcely any form of injury that has not
been suffered by our citizens there during
the last few years. We have been nominally
at peace with Mexico, but as far as our,
interests, niir (inmmerM. or nnr rtitizanA am ?
concerned, we might as well have been at
war. Mr. McLane, in August last, wrote,
"I hope the President willJael authorized
^entA^-Me^Tco wTtEluilitarjf fbrcgs. at the
:all of the Constitutional authorities to pro*
:ect onr citizens and treaty rights. Unless'
mch are conferred on him, evils must increase,"
&c. The President adds, I have
jeen reluctantly l9d to the same opinion,
md I feci bound to announce this,donoh2*
lion to Congress. This is a question which
elates to the future as well as the present
md the past. The aid which be the Pre*
ident, requires, and which interests all com*
neroial countries, require that it should .
lave belonged to this Government, so as
tot only to render by virtue of our neigh"
& J* .
M