Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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HJ H ... : -1 * *" * %* ~>*t~ ' ' ri^H j *k' jij' * vr - ^ # s '* * - if* 1 ' 4 '4 ^jl i* *? ? - - ' ' ' v - ' " ' ' < ' ) mm " "' Hi : r. 7 :?: lewis m. grist, proprietor. [ An Independent jJ^al: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |?8 pes amnn a adyaicb. vnr, ? YC^KYILLE, S. C., THTJESDAY, JANTJAEY12, I860. . NO * - ?-=?: -n-"- ' -* ' ?- - " ' Jitdripal $0iatta?: WBITTBK VOE TBI TOBXVTLLE ENQCrREE. "QTAB " JL JlV# BY MRS. MARY A. DEN1SON. CHAPTER VI. A HAPPY FAMILY. < 'Now we'll adjourn up-stairs, brother; you will spend a little time with us, surely; 1 the trains leave at convenient hours.' 'Thank you?lean stay for a short time,' said Mark, coloring a little as he added? <1 have an engagement up town.' TKow antorAri the fiittincr-room. where the I AUVJ O children were already assembled, eager for their osnal evening pastime. Media sat on a low stool, coaxing a golden-haired 1 babe, who was laughing and orowiog and crawling towards her, ever and anon pansing to tarn its head and see what was going on. Tiney was playing the matron to her little guest, and showing her, very carefully, some specimens of her sister's paintings. The setting sun reddened the entire room, and the blush-roses on the pretty carpet seemed almost to spring forward and, bask in its beams. The piano stood open; a flute, violin, and guitar in their respective places, occupied one recess. There were comfortable ohaira, morocco-sea ted; a lounge, pleasant familiar pictures, lit- , tie statuetts on braokets, and a great substantial secretary, made by a poor Flemish cabinet-maker?Bilba's father to whom Lawrence Hamilton gave a home for several years, that his honest pride might not be shocked by being compelled to live on the 1 town. This piece of fhrniture was the wonder of all who saw its hidden springs and i secret drawers for the first time. <1 declare, Lawrence, I had no idea a great room like this could look cosy !'? So said Mark Hamilton, throwing himself into 1 an easy chair. iPo^ano hricht faces make the charm,' said Lawrence, tossing the babe till it shrieked with laughter. , , 'I suppose you, like Dora, now you are ( married, find no time to play and sing,' said Mark Hamilton, addressing Mary. <0! I keep up my playing,' .returned little Mrs. Hamilton, with her cherry smile. , 'My voice, perhaps, is not quite what it was, but with Media here to help me, we do ) tolerably well for singing. You were once f very fowl of musio.' - . : <1 am still,' Mark replied, rising and lounging to the piano. 'Ah ! a violin?^ who plays that ?' Marshall smiled timidly, as he said, 'ty8 do, uncle.' lli . <1 gness he does,' broke in his fatheffch 'and, if you please, he writes poetry, too.-th I will show you?' f0 'Father! don't read my nonsense. Tine lines are very oommon-place, I assure yo?hi uncle.' <0!yes I shall,' said his father; 'it ne my property sir, and by the way, I suspe it was written after one of our night frolic for it's headed? "Romping."?A Home Picture. A HOME PICTURE. $ ? Wild the winds plaiD, Cold falls the rain, a 1 Watch they at home for my coming, - tjjj TK? <ras nil alight. O o ? The fire red-bright, And little wife sjmiling and humming. D< ril Wide the door flies! % Come loving eyes, J Come eager questions and kisses, Pattering feet, Child-voices sweet? ,i 0! these are exquisite blisses! y Room in a flash? ? ia Red foses blush? y0, O'er the gold trellised fresco? *\ Cupids about? D? Paintings gleam out? t d| One of La petit Tedesco. .< Supper is done? Now for some fun? *. 1 Dick calls for marbles?and Bobby Shouts that be beat Six on the street, ' 1 Playing at Leap-frog?his hobby. } Tinee askanse, Pleads for a dance, W Mother's quick fingers are ready; il Prone on all fours ?j), Like a crow caw9, 3 He they call "baby" and Freddy. J* At it they go, ? Jump high and low, Often the given aim missing 0! what a shout!? IjCc "Father is out!? ^ y Now. for a forfeit?and kissing. gr What would they say, Man who to-day, jg ( Greedily invoiced and chartered? fci i Held their heads high, And with stern eye, mi Counted and quoted and bartered? It i What would they say? -..J?? "You Sir, at play ? j' " Frolicking, leaping, grimacing; n sii Boys on your back, l Face turning black? j Capering, shoating and racing." unvj eems Let them deride? , Sneer in their pride, j ftl??re Old fogy-fossils unsmiling; j .fpew Games such as these, With 1 Grow the hearts-ease this j Keep off all rust and defiling. usher What if the years, third i Bring frost and fears, I gbo* Ruthless the bouI's temple search in ? . Still, oh heart! climb G The ladder of time, j And look out at the eyes like an urchir her, 1 'I caH that prime, now,' said Lawt, froni 1 laughing at Marshall's cheeks, retje 8he w those of a girl. ^ w Mark assented, lookiug proudlyjn refll e his nephew. A moment after he havin 'you keep your flute going yet, I su?.' their Then lifting the instrument from its ihg 'Tf blew a few notes of "Sweet Homfot fjirai soon broke down. -f ^ iu. 'You did play very well, said La^' <0 expressing his surprise by looks. quiet) 'Yes, I ought to, still j but the i ^ don't think Dora has exactly a na|ear good for music. We played together a g<a6al, ^ too, before wo were married ; bu^ij? ain'8 the deuce knows how it is!?Ixfccanl0"1? thought itwri-th,rtmar d a poopfo-^r ^?-eiir ?">? 'Come K , Mark' 1 0 havenevetTag???ag*to1Wr,rar t home-hand-t iT1? ^ear* r Come Medj1^ 'J-hney too; lefe give uncle a . . 8 Flute ?u V10"n were in instant t readine4a-sat f pbno. Tiney v exercised a ?Dgle>and the 8Pirit* 1 ed stra|h* ?.room with sweet harmonies Man100 "8tene^?bis eJe8 1 "pailing, JPiDE hia hands with en- j thusiuffi^j * ?That is he ex?laimed. 'Why i Lawrenoe : beard worse music than e that at ^ou've no need to j go from entertainment j' and a he sipoed. 1 'No, Jd* is bounded by these old walfi^ria'"en??' 'We believe e in giving aQ ?pitome of all the out- s Bide attfc?^ary> sin8 mJ favorite.' i The air jf"??touched with Scot- ' iflh bread fpaintness, and oolored j with ch*n ^*e morels : ??Y?. bi !>rae8 and Btreanxs around i The^>nt8omery-" Every b^eard them. Mark Hamilton h^Nrliatened to their pathetic 1 beauty a i times, but moulded to ' the dear, ^"Q-Uhe tone of his broth- ' er's wiftki0^ transfused with a new immortalit The noljinto silenoe. Had Mark , seen th^fa} iQ Mary's soft blue eyes as the tmtnuQ was ended, he would not haij?^d at her power to make others fceP^n soul was stirred while she sanfe'ttle knew what a tumult she haa^p his heart. These pure sights and gave him a disrelish for the eveuiim"ied entertainment. The fruit he hi> invited to taste was forbidden, ^conscience?now by inclination. > ButJ^ad requested him to go; he was &m there upon a matter of business, sle might build up his for- ' J :?101 v 1 1 CUDf?OV^Uiu iaugu ab Uio out uyico 'Anl^ce,' he said to himself agafc, com his watoh and rising to go. Ciiing^ing glance about this Eden, h^excoaeself and left the bouse. *He dhjeem quite like himself (Tii^y, tell to bring up lights) did you ?nk he ?awrence ?' asked Mary. ; 'I didniioe, Mary. It's rather a Sw thi??ugl!,,lflbr him to stay so^ttftE*1 hope Did he have not been quarrel3g.' / 'IIorri'-^w'^twe I Don't mention ch a tf' 'Hon# uot, little woman, ladies who tve bee^ght, up in pomp and vauity I their as Dora has, scruple very lit; at dojo quarrels, if they cannot have eirow/- Mark's fortune is too limited r Dotiowever, brother is a good busies ma'o doubt he'll manage to secure ' s prefife a pretty independence. He II do? a hurry too, or nqjft all. He , ver 1 plodder like me. I CHAPTER VII. 3 CITY RELATIONS. Mt;ftdo had the good farmer, Hiram, ltfcliestablish his family in a coach (n\ /enisirable one by the way) and get-' 3 b?ge safely stowed away. Oris side and that, porters andcoach^3 ffldoed and hullabaloedin his ears, an ? hood still and with an angry ejaouhkj Mfaed them from him, first on oie sid" , sathe other. 'iation !' he oried, 'let an honbtfij80 will you? If a body's golto. ?jk this to come to New York, II gj . taio till the last day. Stop jk| Wl? ihip in my face, will ye, ye ilJbi- ^0l igawk. No, no, no!' he yells <l * r fant to go to none o' them plati? i, where's your uncle's ??IVe fjot- ? * ) Grand-street/ said the bojjpdlis cheek somewhat flasked > it mirth of the people standiDgiar. C01 lost stay here a moment/ he aed, 301 ron't think I want a carriage atf'11 eDl ) ' - IT u one. ras not long before they wer&frfon f along the streets of tie gr^ ety, a c Iter numberless turnings, theywpjed ?e: a grand but gloomy loolingiildiig tec lived their wealthy relative? bough they were apprisid ofis visit, aiC igshells did no. appear to b/ery for. ste in._lheir welcomes,?HjaCogalell _ her sister, who screamed cwith all Wa ,rmth of her honest love, tl^are run. tni lown her cheeks, 'La ! inline, I In't a know'd ye!' and thaistress of xnsion had the mortificatiofe observe ler well dressed servants^g]ed at icouth company. take you right up-stairs to Qr room/ * id. 'I'm sorry its so farij but the re expecting oompany evejay, and . such a houseful of servM that it as if they took up all thetrim.' n't say a word Car'line?)Cme anj. said her good sister, /jl|Dg up reary feet and an aching ij'd. ^ C0! , beautiful!' she cried,j she was a| d into a pleasant cha^r on the story. 'How nice youo live ! I f Id think myself made, wfa sach fur. Jrf 3 this in my lest room, rliarht/ as her parents *aya ca]ied | \s to occupy a small chaber leadiDg ^ i>r mothers' room, and fconsolatoly j tit in, feeling chilled ^disappoint- ug lie her father and 'Bus'?whose i?o was Frederick?<me up after jsettled with the eoaotan, bearing J*11 Iggage between them. ha Nation!' was the first tplamation of ^ I ^Couldn't they find ajwhere to put ?f II this great house btjj ?p here ?' we're from the county, said Bogus, ed as U, and I guess we an 'amost as *D b city folks. I tell^ouwhat, wife, 11 bat and find a tavta, t^t I will. I nc >ing to be snickeredit wlfen I've got rndred dollars ia po&et, now I te ! ? 1 ell ye. Bogus, ytf^y hare *fth mother nd Star; Til so** things.' In spite of th^dtog8 of his wife, the Id farmer left P house, determined to ake his little fai? "here they ooald bay espect. It so happeneMt long after ten on that ame night, Mai?am^ton was hastening o the ears, whi he was overtaken by a 'ery tipay indi^l who was trying his est to support hselfagainst a lamp post. 'Well/ said* latter, looking wofully ip> 'I've beea?nd this particular lamptost five timejpjhow; and it don't seem o get oat -Couldn't yoa tell ' v- - words mnninc fopath uo, UD auucn D ?o ir, his voictf?^?g thicker?'couldn't rou tell me wf Cogshell lives ? He's l merchant-i^e^yy good's merchant? wo hundred^ sutbin?I forgit which V '0 ! yes, ), Cogshell lives where you ee the fourth-light; you're right on the itreet,' eaidJwkj recognizing the farmer vith whom i- Carlisle had bargained.? You'll see jDomber distinctly when you ;et there.' 'Thank j-but don't hurry 'way's if, rou're scajp You hold off as if you's :raid of a m honest, clever feller all the fray from 0??* Hiram Butts, farner, at .y?sarvice; got lost in this tar lation gre#ty. Expeot wife and Star? ;hat's my & gW?are 'bout prepared to put on ntfniog by this time. Now, what'd bo* best way o' gettin' in there? bey ? M^ogshell's somethin' of a particular uul guess, and his servants is all Sne as p?hfl aQd goes to bed early I expeot, andtesu't like to be disturbed.*? Can't I ffa the cellar winder, don't you spose?lpr sly 1" <0! r said Mark, laughing at the idea, <w^n't keep cellar windows open I AM f TOAO^ V An mil] Vl O TT/\ nere, as1* vu? nwv. a vu mu u?ig to ring 'bell till somebody comes.' iKin<hate to/ said the farmer, whose tongue! every moment growing larger? tit's a Ration place anyhow, 'and making a pluo/brwar<i> he succeeded in reaching the hot aQd harried on to his destinatio Mobile, Star and her mother sat disconsoJat the window of their room. The bod another had long ago soughttheir bed ?ttaeels rumbled fainter and moTe seldom lg the street?and that part of the city ^wrapped in comparative silence. It was petty chamber in which they were flngfd, with white hangings and marble msuMTkid fixtures. The farmer's wife sat 4low teat, looking down with strained eyefts. 'Starlight' moved^fo" -tlWe. Htjes were red with weeping. ere, mother, the clock is 6trikiog eltf; what shall we do ? I must go after n*her, they will murder him for his iush, Star?do hush ! I'm enamost begjmyseif now. Don't make me long to jp from the window for the sake of gitfc>ut.' A momentary pause followed, i the mother said impatiently, 'do go if Fred?I wish we hadn't let him go ' 1 can't find my way anywhere about the tse,' mother, replied the girl, throwing curls from her temples and running her ;ers nervously through their tangles. 'I id it just now, and the first thing I heard en I touched the latch was an awful ee, growling 'who's there?' and 'what you after?' '0 ! it's dreadful to be in h a great, lonesome place, and father, >ody knows where. I wish we were home. ' couiins laugh at me, I know, and such strange questions. Besides, I look queer with my plain, country clothes? 1, Oh ! hark ! is that a step ?' Yes, its coming up to the door. Oh ! I ih I d<red holler ! There's the bell! its ir father, ohild, its your poor fathfer, and aercy it is, if he's alive I Now, I should t like to know what's kept him so late ?' ) criei, her tone changing from extreme siety to petulance. 'A pretty time for i father of a family. Go into your room ir; some of them outlandish servants is ning with hisa, perhaps. 0 ! he'll be rv he's come! 'Well,' she cried as he tered alone, 'why didn't you stay till toirrovr at this time?' Instead of answering her, he sidled into hair and winked ather in a ludicrous manr, making, at the fame time, somo per:tly incoherent and'nsensible harangue. 'My goodness! Hiran?old man?if you i't tipsy!' cried the firmer's wife, in conrnation, holding up b>th hands. All the answer she \ould comprehend, s,^Veryhes' good ole dder. No brandy, ie's I live.' For goodness, gracious \ake ! let me get 11 off to bed. Cider! I g\es8 it was cider, jre, hold up your foot a,d let me take ur boot off. 0! dear! bat we should' er come to this ! I can't aart it; he'/l ve to sleep on the floor; heshant get on it nice white bed.' 'What's the matter, mother ?\sked6tar, idly looking out of her little bamler. 'You go in and shet the door' was the t reply. The poor woman cuuli not bear ?thought that her child should mo* the ndition in which he was, and gig began ain tugging alone ai the boot whi^ came ' at last. / \ i ?0! dear, merciful father!' Tears^wed iely down the sun-burnt cheeks t< the Toifft This was a new. a di? 0 Ultl u ^ , ? rible disgrace. In vain she implorefhim stand up, to let her help him. I* llenly stupid, bis eyes wandering about, his tongue muttering thick,ln. ual word;-. . f Suddenly a thought flashed acrasfcej iud of the distressed wife. Her huibaq j ,d carried out with him in his wallet m*4 mdred and fifty dollars ; seven huiflred which were to make payments of^reai iportance. The cold dew of frightjtart1 out on her forehead as she rememiered king him so give it to her for safejeepg. She dared not question himi her igers trembled as she felt his pockfy jn me of which was the wallet. 'Hiram, Hiram !' She Bhook him ty his eth rattled j 'where's the money ? Were's the wallet ? Hiram! Oh 1 Star 1 come here 1 and see if you can make him tell you auy- 1 thing about it. The wallet is gone, all our money?child?do you understand? 01 dear, dear!' and she walked distraotedly about. Star came in her night-robes, looking pale and startled. In a glanoe, she comprehended all. (01 father, apeak to me; speak to your little Star/ she cried, kneeling at his feet; but he only muttered vacantly and rolled his eyes, till she hid her face in her hands, for it was pain to look, at him. It was evident that the poor man had been ruthlessly dragged. His faculties were suspended?his limbs had lost all power of volition. The nobbing wife and the delicate Star, led him , aswellasthey could, to tbe luxurious bed wnereon ne toil stu- i pidly insensible. 'What shall we do with this light, moth- 1 er?' <1 don't know; it mnst be put out. I 1 wish I bad some of my candle-ends here. < Star, dont you suppose we blow this kind 0' light out just the sitme as any other?' <1 don't know any other way, mother,' said poor little Star, and going to the foot of the bed she blew the gas out, and groped to her own little closet. CHAPTER VIII. THE CONSEQUENCES OP BLOWING OUT THE GAS. That misfortunes never come singly, the farmer's wife was destined to prove, whether to her satisfaction or not, the reader can 1 determine. She had fallen into a heavy slumber when she was awakened by Star, who had nearly pulled her out of bed in rousing her to consciousness. 'The money, the money; over nine hundred dollars,' she muttered, as she opened her eyes. 'Don't Bpeak of money, mother"! such a horrid, horrid smell! What is it ? Where can it come from ? I'm stifled almost to death.' 'Goodness, mercy, child! so am I. What is it?the plague ? I've heard how they carry dead bodies about in great wagons.? un i aear, we snail an cue. JC>or goodness sake, child, open a window;' and she groped in the dark, uttering stifling ejaculations. 'I can't raise the window, mother, they ain't like ours; there'll a catch somewhere. Oh! dear, do find the door! I'm smothering?I'm dying!' To find the door wan out of the question. The half frantic womaa groped about, overturning chairs, breathing heavily, and crying out with what litti!e voice she had left, 'we're all dying here?dying !' Presently there was a noise beneath them i ?around them. Somebody was roused, i The door was dashed open and there came i in a current of air. 'Mother, sister! for God's sake speak 1 where are you ? Don't bring a light up yet, wait;' and gropitg, Frederick found and turned off the gas, then quickly gaiu ing the window, after a moment, he threw it up. By this time nearly every person in the house was rowed, and frightened enquiries were heard kelow stairs. 'They blew out the gas,' said a servant, snickeriDg. 'Ignorant fools!' was the response, with a malediction. Fred beard it, bat he was busy lifting his sister, whom lie saw by the street lamps, now that the bliuds were open, lying senseless beside the bed. His mother had not lost her consciousness so entirely. She crept round by die pale Star, whose white face seemed like sculptured marble, and busied herself in applying water and air, so that very soen the lifeless look passed away, and the btfeathing became more natural. 'I meant ta have told you that,' said Fred, 'but I was so tired I forgot everything. G-ood heavens ! we havu't thought of fath er. vv e must Dave a ?gnt?tne gaa is out of the room now.' Strange to say, tlfS old farmer was sleeping heavily but quietly, and as they found it impossible to awaken him, they concluded that he was uninjured, for his breathing was regular and his expression natural. ' 'Oh ! Fred, my boy !' said his mother, giving way for the first time to tears, 'I'm afraid your father has lost all his money.' Then rocking herself to and fro, she told him the dreadful condition in which he came tame.' 'I jfish I had thought!' cried Fred, in consternation. 'Oh ! mother, if he has!' There was a long silence. The trio well 1 kiew that the money was made up for merciless creditors; that mortgages had been 1 consequent upon its collection, and there j was no alternative but to lose their farm if the money was really gone. The boy tried, 1 however, to cheer up the sad heart of his 1 mother. He chatted about other things, told them how to turn olf the gas, and en- ' deavored to laugh away their feara, though ' in reality he was in an agony of apprehen- ' sion about tho missing sum. He hoped his father had taken the precaution to place it 1 away without the knowledge of his family, but the hope was a faint one. Other sour- ' oes of disquietude he had. He saw the ' smiles and scorn of his rich cousins. His aunt seemed anxious to make his sister and ' himself feel at home, but it was plainly ev- 1 ident that she was extremely annoyed at their visit, and in misery lest they should ^ ' 1-1? 1 J ? n m 1 a/1 />a/3 no ka! n De pUDJlCiy seen auu ttwuumcugcu ao luatives. He knew the voice that had cried iOut?'ignorant fools !' It was that of his ^ uncle. The epithet had sunk deep and ( burning in his heart, and kindled a fire that ' would not soon go out. 'One day, maybe' muttered Fred, laying i .his head again on his piilow, 'you will be i glad to receive favors from the 'ignorant i bols.' Anyway, if father didn't lose that ] *oney,' he shuddered, 'we won't stay here < tag.' CHAPTER IX. J THl COUNTRY BOY VINDICATES HIMSELF. 1 jUte on the following morning the old < Farmer awoke, perfectly sobered. At first 1 be had no recollection of his condition on < the previous night, but gradually tbere ( came the terirble consciousness of his down- t Gall. He remembered how he had been < tempted to enter a well-lighted saloon after i soda-water?that after drinking one glass be had wanted another?that he came out i of the; place at a late hour and wandered confusedly about the streets, striving in vain ? to find bis destination, till guided by a stran- i ger. Sitting on the side of the bed, he bow- t ed his head on his hands in the deepest 1 mortification, but when his wife mention- 3 ed the money be started wildly np, crying ? -?'did I take it with me. 01 my God! what did you let me go for V and began 1 searching his pockets with frantic haste, 1 turning them out, and looking wildly from side to side, as if he expected to see it somewhere in the floor, while his face wore an expression of the most intense alarm. 'Wile?old woman ! I'm a ruined man 1 v i*i. v. 1 .*_ii , ana again nis wnice iockb ibii oyer iiu < clenched hands. < 'Father! don't talk so/ cried Star. 1 'Alraost a thousand/ groaned the old ] farmer] unheeding the caresses of his daugh- ] ter, 'aid I worked so hard to get it!' 1 'Hiram?where did you go ?' asked his < wife, a look of despair crossing her features. '(jo 1 I couldn't tel! you to save my life; I Oh ! dear Lord, to think I should be rob- < bed of all my hard earningsand letting i his bead fall to his knees, he sobbed like a < child. 'Never mind, old man, don't take on ? so; you make me despert heart-sick?don't I do no good either. Star, do you go down ) and see what that awful thing means (the 1 gong Was sounding for breakfast) Oh ! ' here's Fred.' i 'Well, my boy, what's got to be done ?' ' groaned the farmer. 1 'Be done ? why live through it and go 1 down to breakfast.' 1 'Don't talk to me about breakfast. I ' couldn't tetch a mouthful if 'twas to save I my life,' said his father. 'Ton and mother and Star go down; I must think over what I shall do?what on airth I shall do, Providence alone knows.' 'Go to Mr. Davis,' said his wife. ?? . 1 ? a l! , 1 ?no 1186 to ass any iavors 01 mm, now, said the farmer, 'since I hain't going to ; consign to him this year. I mast set the ' perlice going, and?Oh! dear, nine hun- < dred and fifty !' 'Sposc I shouldn't get it ? I'm a ruined man?you're a ruined man, ' Hiram Butts 1' - * 'I don't want to go down stairs,' said < poor little Star, swallowing Lor tooro and ' looking imploringly at her brother. ; 'Nonsense! who's afraid ; we're as good ' as they are, any of them. If they say j a word to me, I'll give 'em as good as they ( send. Come along Star! No matter if you ain't furbelowed up as aunt and cousins are; ' you're worth more than the whole of 'em, any day. I've got on my suit of independence this morning, and I'm not going to feel that we're asking any favors of 'em. : Come mother?you had better go.' 'No, no,' said the poor woman looking up tearfully. 'I couldn't eat a mouthful. I'll take some luncheon by and bye with 'Carline j go down without me children.' Breakfast was nearly over when the brother and sister, after turning many wrong ways, found the room where the family were assembled. Poor little Star drooping and blushing, painfully confused, found a seat somehow, after an indistinct recognition of two chairs that seemed to be one, and scarcely lifted her timid eyes, so fearful was she of encountering the quizzing glances of her cousins. Food was placed before her by the smart waiters, and when she grew calm enough to look about her and 1 saw the fresh, elegant toilets of her aristooratio relations, her face took on a deeper dye. Not so with her brother; his metal was made of sterner stuff. He sat oom- 1 posedly silent, received all attentions as a 1 matter of course, and cooly returned any inquisitive glance directed toward him. ' 'You met with an accident last night, young sir/ said his uncle. Fred reoognized the voice that had called them 'ignorant fools/ and he replied, 'yes sir; we only hear of gas in that part of the West where we live, consequently, and very naturally, my mother was ignorant of its management/ 'She blew it out, didn't she ?' simpered 1 a dapper exquisite, while a mocking smile played round his lips. 'She did air; perhaps you are aware that 1 it is very easy to blow some kinds of gas out / said the boy with spirit. ' The look and reply were so pointed that I everybody smiled this time, and Fred rose 1 several degrees in the family estimation. ' The fine young man seemed a little non- ' plussed, but not having brains enough to * frame an answer, held his tongue. 'I hope no unpleasant consequences have 1 ' nni/1 liia nnnf on alo rrO n f 1a/3rr nf / 3u0ucu) ooiu uid auuu^ au ujcgauw ai*\aj ui v forty. 'Is your mother coming down to breakfast V 'I believe not, madam,' replied Star, to svhom the question was addressed. Her father's loss ocourring to her, just :hen, gave her a quivering lip, but she jonquered her tears. 'Let me see, what is the name of my Utile niece?' asked their unole, trying to do ;he agreeable. 'We call her Star, at home, sir,' said Frederick. 'Ah! indeed, quite classical?' 'For country people?' put in the youth. Bis innocent look almost disarmed his un- a ;le of suspicion, but he turned very red, c iOtwithstanding. ? 8 'There was a young clergyman stopped 1 it my fathers when sister was but a few i veeks old, and he begged the privilege of laming her. So he called her Astrea; we 1 ike Star, better, at homej' resumed Frederick, quite at his ease. t Star's cheeks were burning She wish- 1 id her brother would not be so thoughtless t is to attract attention towards her. She ' iittle thought that her cousins were almost c envious both of her name and her beauty, 1 prhich was certainly, when she was not ez- 3 jited, star-like, tranquil, very gentle and j ender. Possibly, they thought to themtelves, 'how she might eclipse us, with that r jomplexion, if she had more style, and the e idvantages of a oity life!' t 'Then you really have an educated min- f stry,' said the unole. * t 'We have had an eduoated minister/ c nid the boy. 'He is a good old man, who night occupy a wider field, and fill it nobly s 00, but he prefers a missionary life. He 1 ias been kind enongh to form a class of i roung men and instruct them in the clas- 1 lical English studies/ t 'You are one of them I suppose/ said Ti lis uncle, with growing deference in his \ nanner towards the handsome boy. j 'Yes sir/ replied Fred, blnshing. i 'Ready to enter college, eh ?' 'Not quite sir/ replied the young man ?'but nearly.' 'Indeed, are you going to college ?' lispjA the young exquisite. <1 was thinking )f it, but they tell me the fellows there have such a deuced hard time of it, that rye about concluded to stick to the store.' ffe was evidently delighted at the sound of bis own voice, and had not studied the ilassics. ? * Poor Star sat uneasily, wondering why the people who had eaten their breakfast, iid not leave the table. She was in snob i flutter th8t she did not nearly satisfy the lemands of appetite. The glittering silverware, the brilliant dresses, gaudy servants, ind more than all, the impertinent attentions paid her. by the coxcomb who sat opposite, and who, doubtless, thought he honored her vastly by his simpering glances, made her feel home-Bick and wretched.? She longed for the old, familiar farm-house ritohenj the fragrant air that stole into it from the flowering woods; the prairie Selds, rich with sunshine and golden grain ; the unlimited prospect of field and sky; the homely cordiality of tried friends ; the < blessing of the white-headed pastor. j I CHAPTER X. ABOUT THSPABM. . ] 'My dear,' said Mark Hamilton, one | pleasant morning in the fall, as he sat with , his wife in the pretty breakfast room, 'do you remember my telling you two months , ago that I lent an old farmer two thousand dollars ?' Dora was a trifle changed. Her manner was affectedly languid, though she appear- . ed to have suffered no diminution in appetite from the loss of the rose in her cheek Sho wore, howo?or, a more decided cap 5 you could read motherhood, all over it; the blue ribbons were longer, and the blue pegnoir was exchanged for one of fawnsolor, profusely embroidered. 'I think I remember your telling me of * it,' said Dora, setting her cup down, 'why 1 ?what of it?' ! 'The poor old fellow is dead?that's all.' 1 'Dead! Oh! horror, how you shocked ' me! I'm so nervously sensitive lately.? Then I suppose you've lost your money.' '0! no j I'm well secured from any loss j ho rmid nvprv thinor nri and loarofi a fino r e ~r, little farm quite clear. By judicious management, Mr." Carlisle thinks I can get that.' 'Meroy! I hope you wouldn't go out west, Mark.' 'Of course I shouldn't, you charming little simpleton ! I should turn the prop* erty into money. I pity the family, though, poor things! When everything is paid, there will be precious little left. But they can work?of course; they always expected to work, so it will not be disappointing it i* . !_3 _a Ti tnem m any nign iangiea project, it was an nnfortanate visit to them. Just think of his dying in a hospital and being buried any how.' 'Why Mark, you surprise me; I thought they were with wealthy relatives?you said , so.' 'So they were, but wealthy relatives are i as fearful of contagion and death as other i people; so when they found the old man i had the small-pox?' A scream from his wife interrupted him. , '0 ! Mark, for heaven's sake, don't say , he died of small-pox. I hope you hav'nt , been near. Oh ! my precious Albert!? < Mark! you certainly didn't go near them.' 'To be sure not, Dora?I wonder you could imagine it for a moment;' replied , her husband. 'I heard of it through Car- j lisle, who wouldn't risk his handsome body near any danger, I can assure you. It seems ( when the family found what the disease was, j they hustled them all off, and the saying j *oes that the old man took cold at the critical time, and death ensued. It's a pretty bard case for the rest, two of whom have been sick, but I suppose somebody will at- 6 tend to them.' '0 ! yes, of course j' said Dora, as care- , iessly as if there were no hearts agonizing >ver the loss?no tears of anguish shed? while she turned to the nurse, who at that g noment entered with a beautiful babe in e ler arms. The mother's face lighted, as she ftnnirrn^ fV?n rtkvlrJ on/? ATflrt fnnrl 1T7 . GV>Civcu tuc isuuuj auu i'laia awuuij j, )n wife and son. a 'Now you are doing so well,' said Dora, i you must buy baby that superb carriage _ ve saw in Broadway, yesterday. There is lothing like it round here. The Percy's j, ;ave only twenty-five dollars for theirs. I'm lure I wouldn't havo such a shabby con- ? sera; and the Hales, they think they have lutdone all the rest, by giving fifty dollars or theirs. Now we will give a hundred, ind when they admire the beautiful silver 0 irnaments?the elegance of the work?I can e ay: 'Oh! it is nothing so very rare; Mr. Hamilton only gave a hundred dollars for v t. Now won't that take them down ?' g 'Too expensive, Dora?too expensive by ialf,' said Mark. ^ , f '0! now you're growing stingy;' VHj,~ he pout that made her face so piquant rbj ler girlhood, seemed to add a positive b >lemish to the slightly, care-worn face, ? Tbey say the moment men get to be sue- tl :essful they begin to economise, and I be- e ieve it You made a ten stroke yesterday, si 'on said) now I think you might grant me w ust that trifling favor/ ft 'But Dora, yoa forget that though I am eally better off, I have not so maoh mon- p! !y in my hands now as I had before. I have o wait for returns, you see. Then you m orget that I have spent lavishly lately; it hree hundred for an imported set for the ihild to be ohristened in; one hundred?' vi There?don't count it, I implore youT aid Dora with petulanoe. <You know that tt r. Hale, when his wife wanted a christen- T ng robe, put a thousand dollars right in ler hand, and told her the baby was worth en times that, and she, ten times ten. Dbat's the way some men give money to their ^ vives?and Mrs. Hale gave five hundred ust for the robe. Mine is mean beside t; any one could tell the difference at the Q irst glance. Very well sir 1 only if the . lAvlitiMottAnU nflrrov fAvrritro ^Anf. AOlllUg DUVUIU UlVj JVU U UWfVa ?v*gj? ?v ^ v?* ^ ielf, never, for having refused him anything ^ t was possible for you to get.' Here she paused for breath of which she ^ ivas really in desperate need, and Mark q ooking perplexed, hardly knew what to inswer. At last he said? 'In justice to the family of poor Butts, I ^ mght not really, just yet, spend another Q sent. Besides, I think, had yon allowed ^ ne to count up, you would find that I have Far exoeeded Mr. Hale in his gifts; four * thousand dollars would hardly make good g die amount I have expended within the last tj four months. There was the shawl; one g thousand; the?' '0 1 pray, don't count, Mr. Hamilton? [ hate to have things thrown in my face; ^ ao matter for the carriage?we will lug trim in our armB over the lawn, nurse and [. It will be very pleasant work as he ^ ;rows heavier, and we are both Very strong, tj robust women.' > ?0!the?!' But Mark checked .himself. (Tbe angry oath was withheld, but j! :he whistle that succeeded only irritated Q the selfish wife, so Mark soon took his hat, Q saying as he left the house hastily?'I will tiring the carriage home with me.' That he did not kiss her as usual was ^ hardly noticed by the selfish wife. She j, had gained her point and that was all she cared about. * ? [TO BE CONTINUED.] ? F Original papers, . =========== g Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.LEISURE SKETCHES.?t-Eo. XII. b BY J. WOOD DAVIDSON. ". g NIAGARA NOTES. 0 Only a few 'detached thoughts and scat- ? tered fancies'?disjecta membra of thoughts that go to make up the total experience of 3eeing Niagara?things that occurred to me p there?musings that persistently refuse all u connected form. "w p The mysterious disappointment that op- F Dresses the heart when we find ourselves 0 r ? V first in the living presenee of the <Falls, is ' like the pang a mother feels when her long- ^ absent boy returns home. She has loved a 6 memory?cherished a constant image? while her absent son grows to be a new be- 1 ing. She greets him on bis return with a F kiss, bnt mast tarn away to hide the start- ' ing tear. She greets a manlier form than F she parted from some years ago?he is * handsomer, taller, maturer, better, manlier 8 in all things; but the mother's heart suffers 0 to realize that she does not meet her. boy. Her reason rejoices in the ohange?in the 1 improvement?but her maternal heart will ? be pardoned the tear she drops to the inem- t ory of her boy. So, the ideal Niagara is I not the one we find there ; and though we s find a grander, nobler, more majestic won- i der, it still is not the one we have hugged s so long in our hearts?it is not the boy- i Niagara, that is failing forever from onrim- t agination, and causes that mysterious gloom c of spirit that everybody experiences on first t seeing Niagara. c I was at Niagara on Sunday. Nature 1 seemed sending up her voice in devotion, * murmuring so ceaselessly, so solemnly, and so prayerfully! Nature seemed at prayer. 0 There was genuine worship in the feeliDg ?no cant, no whine, no Pharisee there. D Again Niagara would seem an eternal ? mthem of a deathless human love; a love, deal, life-deep, and holy as angel worship. In a martial mood, one sees in the ascenling spray that rises without intermission li rrom the shock of waters, the smoke of o jattle-?of a battle never-ending and glori- tl jus in its agony. . o Once, the darkness of nature and of the iouI were around me, and I caught glimpses *?' >f the soaring shades, when words like ,hese rang through the vaults of memory: u And there arose a smoke out of the pit. c' ind the smoke of their torment ascendeth ^ ip for ever and ever. And again they Sl aid, Alleluia. And her smoke rose up for ivet and ever.' The roar of waters seem- ^ d repeating, 'For ever and ever.' The ^ lell of waters hissed, 'Smoke?for ever al nd ever.' And the Demon shrieked, Smoke?despair?desolation?loneliness ^ ?for ever and ever.' > " 8c There is, as one stands upon the giddy ^ irink, a wild perverseness that dares one to ilunge in?to float out beyond hope, where W creaming affection can snatch one back no 01 oore?out, to where there is no return. All infinite thoughts rash in as wc gaze ^ n the Fall?infinite hope, despair, revenge, | teroity, God, love. tl The Rapids above the Fall look as if they re re taking a running start so as to have a hi ood jump. ec There is no misanthropy there. All the w selings range above it., 0( One wonders at finding almost no Indian ot agenda in this locality. The Red Man m as left no story that dates back to the time rhen human eye first fell on Niagara, and tie wondering soul of an immortal first bow- in d before its majesty, and human lips first <0 baped the sounds that now suggest to the m< ; orld that stupendous presence^?the word, Hagara. Solemnity is a marked feature of the lace. ' r There are lonely spots too, where one tight whisper of love, provided one were i the right company. ? -rf- : Poor Avery's rock is pointed out. The isitoris eye seeks it, yonder in the rapids he eye dwells upon it a moment, and irns following the waters to the brink.? he heart sickens, and he walks on. Columbia, S. C. AIT ACT no provide for the Peace and Security of this State. I. Be it enacted by the Senate and House ^ T? i. a! ? i J 2A i xiepresemauvea, now mrt ana suuag id a General Assembly, ?nd by the sutboriy of the nme, That if any person within his State shall, with evil inten^ write, irint, paint, draw, engrave, or oauseorproure to be.written, printed, painted, drtwn r engraved, any letter, book, eaaay, pamhlet, newspaper, words or word, picture, gnre or cypher whatsoever, calculated to iaaffeet any slave or slaves in this State, r tending to incite any inanrreotion or disarbance among the same, suoh person or ? arsons shall be deemed guilty of a high lisdemcanor, and, on conviction shall be ned and imprisoned in the' discretion of be Cpurt before which suoh oonviotion shall ave taken place, and in addition thereto, lay be required by the said 'Court to enter ito recogoizanoe with sufficient soreties for a tare good behavior; and if a free person f color, shall, in addition, suffer suoh oororal punishment as a Court of Magistrates nd Freeholders may, in their judgment, bink proper to inflict. II. If > any white person, or if any free leraon of color, shall, with evil intent, pubish, oircnlate, distribute, vend or give, r cause or procure to be published^ irculated, distributed, vended or given, ny matter in the foregoing section mentioud, whether the same shall have been writen, printed, painted drawn or'engraved n this State ot elsewhere, such person' or ierson8 shall, on oonviotion, be guilty of a ligh misdemeanor, and shall suffer the nme tensities as are respectively set forth and irovlded in the first section of this Act. pi. That if any white person, pr free r i '_v.ii J!d. ,.'i :.i .l lersuu u< cuiur, ouuu wuu cvu tuieut unci, peak, repeat, recite or rehearse any lan;aage, phrase, words or word calculated to iisaffeot any slave or slaves in this State, or ending to inoito insoricotieu ovdlslluMtuco mong the slaves; saoh person or persons hall be deemed guilty of a high misdemeanr, and suffer the penalties respectively set orth and provided for in the first section of his Aot; IY. That if any white person, or free ersOn of color, in .thia State, shall oontribite or snbsoribe to, or receive any newspa>er, book, periodio&l, pamphlet, or other irinted, painted or engraved paper, picture r representation of any kind whatsoever, rhether nublisbed within or without this Itate, wbioh is oaloalated to disaffect any lave or slaves in this State, and snob conribotion or subscription to, or receiving of be same, shall be done t>y such person or tersons with a view to distribute, circulate, end or give the same with evil intent, such lereon or persons, on conviction, shall safer the same penalties as are respectively et forth and prescribed in the first section if this Act. s V.* That if any Postmaster or Deputy 'ostmaster, or clerk of Postmaster in this itate, shall know that suoh matter as is menioned in the first section of this Act has reen received at his office, in the mail, he hall give notice thereof to some Magistrate, rho shall forthwith inquire into the circumtances, and shall have such matter burned n his presence, and if it appears to him hat the person or persons to whom it was lireoted, (whether suoh person or persons >e white, or a free person or free persons of olor,) either subscribed therefor, or agreed o receive it for circulation with evil intent, le shall forthwith issue his warrant against lim, her or them, and deal with him, her r them, according to law and in oonformiy to this Aot, and if any Magistrate shall leglect or refuse to execute the provisions 1 this section, He snail, on conviouon, De ned not exceeding five hundred dollars. Thrilling Incident.?In a lecture deivered by 'Grace Greenwood/ at Boston, n 'Heroism/ she referred to an inoident iat took place at the burning of a steamer n one of the Western Lakes 1 'Among the few passengers whose course and presence of mind rose superior to le perils and horrors of the night, was a lother who succeeded in saving her two hildren by means of a floating settee Fhile they were in the water the mother iw a man swimming toward the settee, and, ) he was about to grasp it, she oried *? on't take it away from my poor little obilren 1' The man made no answer, yet the speal struck home; for by the light of le flaming vessel, she could see that his ce was convulsed by the struggle between to mighty primal instinct of nature, and unething better and holier. It was but ir |a moment. He threw up his hands ith a groan of renunoiation, flung himself 7qt backward, and went down/ A Double Edged Prayer.?A little }y had oad day done wrong, and was sent, 'ter parental correction, to ask in secret ie forgiveness of his Heavenly Father. [is offence had been passion. Anxious to jar what he had to say, his mother follow .< 3 * L: T. i: ? 1 to tue aoor 01 uu ruuui. iu iispiug aaiDts she heard him ask -to be made better, ?ver to be angry again, and then, with lildlike simplicity, he added 'Lord, make a's temper better too* J&* A moral debating sooiety is engaged a discussion on the following question: [f a husband deserts his wife, which is the < (?t abandoned, the man or the woman." /