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0 IB i 1 ii ' . ' ;> " I lewis M grist, Proprietor. 1 - An"Independent Journal :fFor the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. (*2 pee aehttji is adyaece. , * J * * ' ,_____j_=3r^r - : . ^ ' ;' -I ' - ; ' ^J 1 ,T. jT " : VOT\. 6 " YOEEVILLE, S. C., THTJESDAY, JANUARY 19, I860. IsTO. 3. Jn (Original Romance.' < WBITTB3T ?OR THK YORKYTLLK ENQUIBEB. | "QTAU " (3 JL jTSL JCV? BY MRS. MARY A. DENIS ON. ' CHAPTER XI. THE ORPHAN8 FIND ANOTHER HOME. There was a bustle about the door of a ' mean looking bouse, in a mean looking ( court, at the north part of the city of New ( York. A few chairs bad been moved in?a , table, a pine bedstead, a lonely and mach ( faded oouch?under the superintendence of a pale, tall young man with hollow cheeks , and eyes so grief-ful, that they excited the sympathy of the rough men who were help- , ing him. A large old fashioned, ill-look iog room was the depository of the few household articles; and as soon as they were tumbled within, the boy began very slowly to set them in order. Then he went out, purchased a loaf and a number of oth- , er things, which he brought home in paper-parcels, and placed them in the closet. This done, he kindled a fire in the grimlooking fire-place, and sat down to listen and to wait. Presently, he sprang to his feet, hurried to the door, down stairs, and led back again a sad-iooking woman who clung to his arm and tottered weakly to the ohair he bad plaoed for her. She was followed by a gentle bnt sorrowful girl?pale, tearful?who came slowly on and cast a look about the cheerless room?trying in such a helpless, hopeless way to qmile as she did so, that it was pitiful to behold her. (You must help me make things a little nice, Star,' said the youth. <1 did the best I could, bnt I am olumsy at it. Then we must make some tea for mother; I am sure she needs it.' The woman, who seemed to have become taller and gaunt in her frame, shook her head slowly, tears brimming up to her eyes. *1 don't want tea; I don't want anything in this world, but to die,' she said, slowly. '0 ! mother, don't talk so ! I can't live if you do I' cried poor Star, sobbingly. <1 don't know what you want to live for ?' ' ?* saia IDe WOmdU, 1U tuu SttLUC lioucoa, Utpauing way. 'You'll bear up bravely, by and by mother,' said Fred, speaking with a courage he was far from feeling. 'Bear up! bear up ! what have I got to bear up for ?' 'For us mother?Bogus and Star j' said Fred, cheerfully. 'We are going to live for you and work for you ; and you must live for us. The little money we have will go a good ways with proper management.' '0 ! but to think they should have turned him out at such a time; and Caroline, my own sister!' cried the woman, wringing her hands. 'Forever and forever, I'll lay his death at their door. They'll have some curse for it?depend upon it, children, they'll have some curse for it. It was heathenish. Oh ! would 1 have done such a thing ? Not for worlds upon worlds!' For some moments she talked in this wild way?the children standing by, exchanging sad glances; but at length the violence of her grief spent itself, and she moaned childishly, still working her hands and her fingers. At last Star set herself resolutely to work, and in a short time the room began to assume a cheerful appearance. Many things they missed, even of the homeliest comforts, that belonged to their western household, but by the time 1.*_ 1.LI. the kettle was singing ana ine pine tame, i covered with a newspaper, set with their scanty store of crockery, they had ceased to oompare this with that, and joined in urging their mother to sit up to the table. 'Couldn't, Star?couldn't, no ways? don't ask me, don't! Forty years I've sat opposite him, and it chokes me, if I try to eat a mouthful that way. Give me a bit of bread here, in my hand. 'Tisn't much I'll be wanting?nor long.' Star obeyed her mother, and her brother and herself sat down in silence. After they had finished their meal, they found that the old lady, overcome with fatigue, slept ( in her chair, and sitting down together they talked in low tones. 'What are you going tq do, Bogus?' asked Star, putting an arm about her brother's neck. 'I dont see?just now, Star, darling; but I shall pretty soon. The good minister who talked with us yesterday, said Providence would provide; and I've no doubt there '11 i be a smart chance for me somewhere, before long. We have but little money, so we ] must'nt be idle. The worst thing I have ( to worry me, is mother's unhappiness.? , She don't seem to get reconciled at all; ; and I fear their sending us from the house, , you know?' he stopped a moment to gather up his voice?'was too much for her. I'm , afraid, Star, she'll never be herself again. ^ 'I dont know,' Star said, musingly. 'Ih feel more hopeful about her than that; butai Oh ! Bogus, that you should have to givey up everything, seems so dreadful. I can't t reconcile myself to that; and you expectecre and had a right to expect so much !' stc 'Never mind me, Star. I'm young ant!sstrong enough to work for you both?yolt 1 and mother. There will be enough coming, to us from the sale of the farm?for, <tbe course, they'll sell our nice home?to taj, wa good care of mother. You and I don't nee tab so many comforts, quite, as she does.' d co 'How much do you think will comey as us V * to t <1 should think, over a thousand dollw 'She said Fred. irl?' ?A11 that?' esolat 'Yes, and more, perhaps. That depe He : upon how the business is managed. Qie m wish I was of age; or else, had monpeepin I'd oversee it myself.' tluiost 'But you have got money enough for fccver c Bogus.' So he 'Yes, for that alone; but if I takhad se low are mother and yon g^1*? ^ ^?> ' [ shouldn't dare to run tr > *e stall i lave to trust to their hod ,tIleir gen- i irosity. I hear that MP^on, who i lent my father the fovxru?^red dol- 1 I are, is a very good and '/ntious man. i They don't speak so higl ' Carlisle, i Men call him a 'diamond ^ * understand it, that means thaJ a ?terper in ] bargains, and probably I 'For all that, dear, p? might get j you a good place,' said 'So he might; I'll go1? > tea bright ' thought. Early to-m morning, I'll J iall on him. Oh ! I W we shall do , rery well. If only und^el! had treat- 1 id us a little more hu/? ^ ^ S? to him 1 ?but I'd rather dieted earnestly, with lowering browj^ teeth, 'than isk him one favor. f? 80 detest that ' man! CHAP?11- : SEEKING ^TI?N. Mr. Carlisle was?006'* from his counting room by r- Coming forward, he met a pa!e^me> intelligent looking yonng majf^y attired, and wearing a subdued^ *n his face'Mr. Carlisle, I jf?me to see if you can help me,' saidJ^fri0? at once into the heart of hi#*- I am the son of Mr. Hiram But^hom, if you remember, you bd* targe amount of wheat/ J '0 1 ahem! yes,j*id Carlisle confusedly, drawing fctaway. 'You have come direct from-ffit?!* I hope.' 'No sir; we 1W* place some time ago,' said Fred,JfD8 excessively. <0 ! then of ocy?u re snre by this time, that there'^tagion possible ? Perfectly sure^P^d Fred. 'Well, young what respect would you like to havefe'P y?Q ?' asked the forestalled jj Fred's cheee^ a still deeper crimson. ?In whai^t ?' He must have known that beP3 stood a fatherless, an almost per hoy; the question seemed a mockHe Httle kacw that the man, overft his youth, feared he had come to inquiries as to the old farm in Ontaryhich he hoped to realize a handsom 'In any way'y wnicn you can assist me to earn an *ble liveliehood. I have a mother and spending on me now.'? He choked do4^s^range feeling in his throat. 'My ifi? broken down by the death of my fiaod my sister is younger than I.' ii 'Ah ! yes, 1 *eally don't know, I'm ; sure. Yon A ^ke a clerk's place j without 8orafi?n8 experience; and? in?short, fbard times, you know, make it diffi0 places. For your sister noi^1 remember her?I could get a fine si0 iQ a bindery or store, or some gentfl,ine8S , Fred fluaga'n> aD^ bis eyes flashed fire. 'I was ( king for myself, sir,' he said hastily mother has no one to care for her at6 but my sister, and if she were aloi^'d accept no offer for her, sir. I ctf>?rt ber.' 'Well^ 1?suppose you come again . in a wec0^ ^be rich forestaller, taken somewh-cb by the young man's spirit, i 'Perl W'H s'r/ said Fred, stung by his car^anner? 'and cow, sir,' he ad- , ded, efene(l> 'bow shall I find Mr. Mark ton ? I wish to learn what I i can finm about the disposal of my I father??mJ sister's ana my mowers effect?' 1 <1 to tell you that he has been gone ? some'eeks now to Ontario, to make o somejff a settlement; and I regret top add/jntinued, 'that there is not much t pro3?r the heirs, as some debts have come^ht that will either have to bf I bougjay Mr. Hamilton, or paid out of * the oat the sale.' ? a 'D-debts?' muttered Fred, grov- ^ ing j'l never heard of them.' By not,' said Mr. Carlisle, quut-j^1 ly ?ere most too young to be madia ( con/ by the old gentlemau. Besides ll the there will be heavy expensesto 13 conextra charges. Mr. Hamilton las 0 cans legal friend; there will be fees 11 and almost without number. You see, ^ yoier can tell what a man is really wol every thing is settled up. Many 1 a who rides in his carriage to day, ~ W(0 terribly exposed by death to mcr- 1 n ... " e a, there is nothing coming to ns ? n't see that you can realize anything S'really I don't.' c hing!' Fred repeated, tho color |j his cheek and his heart sinking rdown. 'This is a terrible disappoint- |j| o me; it will be a greater one jo my |( r. And yet, father placed t high on his farm. I can't see how t is.? f t wait, however, till Mr. Himilton " home, I suppose. All I havi to say ^ here should be any subterfu|e used ich we are cheated out of tl# smalln which is our right, may God have nn fhc one who does it! I mnnldn't ^ o be the manand turning ibruptly, " the other had time to repty, he left ire, filled with disquiet?wiih forebo- ? aome, things did not look more prom- ^ His mother still sat nursing her grief fireside, while Star, havijg cleaned g( ,s busy upon some needle-^ork. On gj >le a cloth was laid, and s?me bread . Id meat for dinner. Stai began to she told how she had urgef her mothaste of food, but in vain.? s will die'?murmured thj fair young D and then, Bogus, 0, wq shall be so ^ pi1 ' 1 k folded his arms about her, and for oment, felt like breakinj down and g too. But he was too old for that? tl twenty?hesaidtohimsejf?it would f? lo; he must be her comforter instead/ told her of some pleasant sights he ta en that day, and gradually drew her ai mind from dwelling on its sorrows. He was not as successful, howsver, in nrging his mother to sit at the table with them. She ?till refused, saying that she would take a bit where she sat, and received it with such i haggard, hopeless look, that it struck dismay to their hearts. Fred picked up a fragment of a newspaper, and giving a little spring, he oried out that there was just the place for him ; then read the following nnder the head of 'wants.' 'Bot Wanted?One who resides in the city? who can bring good references?is not less than sixteen and of good moral oaous. ouiju uu oue will find a h >me while acquiring a knowledge of the business?that of a West India Grocery. A good salary insured to the right kind -'of assistant. Address 'Dix'?box 107, P. 0.' 'That's my place/ said Fred, confidently. 'What makes you thiok so ?' asked his sister. '0! I don't know, I seem to feel it in my bones/ as poor father used to say of the east wind. At any rate, I'll just do my best in a letter. Oh 1 I hope it isn't too late?but it shan't be; I must have that place. The man who wrote that advertisement has a soul; I know he has.' So Fred sat down to his task with the most sanguine expectations, which were not doomed to disappointment this time; for early the next week a note came to 'Bogus* requesting him to call at a certain store, and the signature wis 'Lawrence Hamilton/ 'The very handwriting looks kindly,' said Fred, as he raised his smiling eyes from a perusal of the letter. 'So it does!' echoed Star, looking over the letter. 'Now I'll draw his picture for you. He is a large, partly, handsome man, with beautiful eyes and hair?you see if he isn't!' Fred laughed at her enthusiastic voice and manner?declared he believed she was right?kissed ier, kissed his mother, seized his cap and btrried from the room. CHAPTER XIII. THI MOTHER'S DEATH 'Haveyouffounda clerk yet, Lawrence?' asked Marybf her husband, who had come in, bearing ihe baby laugh, to have one 'bo-peep.' 'No?y&?I hope so. Oh ! by the way, I didn't shiw you the letter I received; the letter of wiich I spoke last night. Upon my word,it started tears. Look at the compositilD, too?every word, every period in the rig)t place?no wrong spelling there ?perfeojl That boy has had good tutoring daaod unon it. If I eet him. I net a O* *1 m* ?-? r w treasure I think.' Marytook the letter to read, while Lawrence tent back in the shop. He found standing there, a handsome, frank-looking younggnan, who smiled as he said?<1 am Fredrp Butts sir; I received jour letter this tsoming, and have come according to your fcquest.' It (lid not take long for Lawrence Hamiltomto make the bargain. He was to give the youth five dollars per month and his boaif, the first year, so impressed was the [ senative, honest heart, by the reoital of his! misfortunes. Fred accepted the proposal will delight, stipulating only that he should rejain at borne at nights, which the good mta acceded to. 'Stop; you understand book-keeping, you V said Lawrence. /<Yes?ir, by double entry,' replied the j>ung man. 'Then if you suit me, perhaps in six Bonths, I'll increase your salary,' said Lawenee. 'Thank you sir,' replied Frederic with beaming face. 'I had no expectation of o liberal a sum at the first. In the name f my mother and sister, I thank you sir,' >e repeated ; and then hurried home to tell he good tidings to Star. She had her modicum of news to impart. L tall handsome man bad been there, she aid?very muc-h of a gentleman, he was? nd enquired after Fred. Star said he em arrassed her a great deal by his manner of aokitig at her, and gave a description or lis appearance, by which Fred knew that he caller was Mr. Carlisle. He had writen a few lines with a pencil, which Star iow placed in his hand. It was an offer f the place of first clerk's assistant in a urge hotel?a good salary, prompt pay and loard, of course. 'I don't know but this might tempt me f I hadn't engaged at the other place,' said Frederic, thoughtfully. 'What was your mpression of the man who called?' he ask:d of his sister. ?I didn't like him,' was the response. 'He is one of the wealthiest men in the ityofNew York,' said Frederic, thoughtully. 'That man was Mr. Carlisle.' Star uttered an exclamation of surprise, s she remarked, 'I thought he seemed to now something of our sitiation.' She joked down again?then added, 'he is a emarkably handsome man, isn't he ? But : hen, I didn't like his face?no:?nor?his manner. I remember him now; remember is talking with poor father.' lI dislike him too,' said the brother, though he is very kind to interest himself 1 jr me; but since he spoke so cooly of findag a situation for you in a shop, I have | ;lt that he is a cold, calculating, haid-heartd fellow. But come, lets rouse mother up, f we can, with this good news. It will j lease her to know I have so good a place.' The old lady, however, manifested her j sual indifference. It was plainly to be sen that her spirits were broken, and that ( he felt as if all motive were taken from er. ' , Day by day her children saw that she f tiled; by and bye, she laid upon her bed , ever to rise again ; and once more tie soli- | __ i xi j r?ii ,1 ? ITJ uiolucr uuu biqlci auiiuwuu a uuaiu iu g ie grave, and returned despoudingly to a j roken home. ] <How lonely you will be here, thiough i ie long days,' said Frecerio, as he left her < >r the first time after her mother's death 1 [ wish you could be nearer, so I might 1 ike my meals with you; perhaps we can t rrange it so.' t Poor little Star was indeed lonesome after her brother had gone. She stood at the narrow window, looking down into the conrt. Here and there she saw a human face and sometimes heard the voices of children. A pale elderly woman came to the window opposite, and gazed down into the empty court. It made Star think of her mother to see those sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, and she shivered as she looked round upon the evidences of her recent occupancy. There stood the chair, mute and solemn; there were the old spectacles folded in their sheath. A few dresses were placed upon one end of the lounge and a few plain caps, much worn. Oh ! how every thing she saw smote her to the soul! Only a few months before, how quick had been the mother's step, the eye how clear, the voioe how merry and musical! She seemed to behold her coming from the dairy, her cheeks rosy with healthful work. She saw her looping up the vines before tbeir little cottage home ; bearing the homely beer, of which herjfatlier was so fond; making the bread and calces for the Saturday's great baking; doing all so blithely and cheerily. She remembered how long she had looked forward to this visit to 'York how she had saved from the milk and the eggs enough for a little new and special finery. And this?this was its termination ?a dark ill-furnished room for herself and brother?a darker and lonelier for her father and mother! Star thought till the solitude grew frightful, and she dared stand no longer at the window, where now and then she oould see that white face, rocking back and forth as her mother had rocked. So she started from the place, and taking cloth and soissors, essayed to cut out some ehirts for her brother, his wardrobe having been wofully diminished. But still, as she cutand basted, the sad thoughts overpowered her, and she knew not how to drive them away. Throwing down her work, she walked back and forth with restless steps. If she had but a book with which to beguile time ! There was nothing of the kind in the great room. She wondered if one could be obtained in any other part of the house. She had seen but few of her neighbors; they appeared respectable. Could she but summons sufficient courage to ask> perhaps she might be favored with the loan of some volume. Determined to make an effort and an application, she moved timidly across the hall, and knocked at the opposite door. It was opened by a man, bearded like a pard, and wrapped in a loose, much soiled dressing-gown. He was evidently caught in extreme dishabille?hair unkempt?face (perhaps) unwashed. He started back on seeing the beautiful face before him, and uttered an uncouth exclamation in German. Star was thoroughly frightened and knew not whether to stand or run. <1 beg your pardon,' she said at last, in a amamUI'mm **a?aa a 1 mafif Collin/* fft flifl flnrtl* lieiuuuug YUiUCj alUJ'JOb laiilug uu uuv uvvi in her confusion?'I thought I might borrow a book here.' The man did not understand. He shook his head, placed his finger on his lip? pointed to his room?made all sorts of queer gestures, until Star, thoroughly alarmed, would have fainted if help had not appeared in the shape of another bearded gentleman, who fortunately spoke English. ?0! Oh ! don't make no apologee,' he said gracefully?'we are very sorry to say to the young lady, we have no English books? they not have come yet?but plenty in German which perhaps the young lady does not need ?' Star replied faintly that she did not, and hurried into her own :room, not without trepidation ; for she caught a glimpse of the two men looking after her as she closed the door. Drawing the bolt she sat down trembling and regretting her preciptancy. 'What will they think of me? what will Frederic say ?' she thought, resuming her nervous walk. 'What a child I am to act upon impulse ! But then I thought there were none but families in the house. I never dreamed that men might live here alone. 0, if I had but a sister?but a friend to 1- a. t rm.:_ ~:i ?:n i,:n speu& IU i -LUIH lUlilUIC DWCUUC VTlli A.lil me!' At last she determined to walk ont at least a few steps from the court. She knew the way as far as the church at which her brother and herself had attended service for two or three Sabbaths. Seeing the crowds of people, and looking in the shop windows, would serve to amuse her for a while, and give her something to think about. She could purchase a paper, from some of the stands, perhaps two or three, and so furnish herself with entertainment till her brother came home. Star did not know how beautiful she was. Having been brought up in the remotest part of a Western county, seeing only the select few, daily, whom her good old minister taught, she had never been the subject of flattery. She did not dream as she wound the soft curls about her fingers, and framed ber delicate face in the little dark i bonnet with its edges of purple and white, i that her very fairness and pureness of ex- i pression would draw the eye of the curious i upon her. Her garments were not fashionable, but in her appearance was a grace, a i gentle, natural dignity, that was better < than fashion. She drew on her little 1 gloves, folded her shawl over a faultless i form, and reconnoitering to be sure that the i opposite door was shut, and the hall deserted, she tripped noiselessly down the stairs. Once out in the air her spirits somewhat recovered their natural elasticity. The I sights and the sounds amused her. Emer- < >ing froru the long court, she was instantly | ;he participant in a varied and exciting i scene. On all hands, men and women hur- t ried to and fro, citizens, merchants, mariet-men, shop-boys, a motley throng; while i hrough the street the noisy vehicles crow- i led together, with cracks of whips and i usty vociferations, that almost deafened t ler ears. It took her some time to accus- e ,om her senses to the varied sights and 1 sounds, and she passed like one bewildered c till the thousand tempting shows on every 1 hand attracted her attention from the novel I surroundings. < She paused to iospeot a window full of < paintings. 0, those dear remembered home- f scenes 1 here they were, hardly the less < beautiful that acres were oompressed with- I in the bounds of a few feet. There was i a prairie-scene?the grand rolling fields I sloping away gently into oak-edged hollows; ' then rising again, swelling gradually and i stretching off evenly to the horizon. Oh! i it seemed as if she must pluck the flowers < that tinted them so redly. There was a i home too?a home almost like her own, I only the tall shade trees were wanting.? i And the blinding tears would come as she i noted the children about the door, and the I old farmer standing, lord-like, surveying the work of his hands. ' i When she came out of her dream, she was consoious that the window was crowded i with men; and looking innocently up, she could not but note that the objeot of their admiring attention was not the picture, but herself. Startled almost out of her com posure, she tamed hastily away and walked frightened and indignant up the long street. Now that her maidenly instincts were rudely called forth, she saw that she was an object of scrutiny; that on all sides men gazed at her, some of them respectfully, others in a coarse and unrefined manner. The fine color which suffused her cheeks, heightened her beauty, and she had not the tact and address of the oity habitues, thus she moved along hardly self-possessed, yet losing not the peculiar dignity of her manner. Following a slight ourve of the street, she walked hurriedly onward, wondering at every step, why she did not see the venerable church-edifice which she had determined should bound her walk. No ohurch, however, appeared. The buildings grew more elegant, the travellers more select in their appearance, the streets widened, the stores made a more brilliant show, and still there was no sign of any church. Stopping irresolute, Star's cheek paled with the fear that she had lost her way. If so, how should she regain it ? Utterly ignorant of the names of streets, forgetting that even of the poor little court where they lived, what should she do? A man, dashing in exterior, and who had crossed her path more than once, seeing her stand irresolute, now came up to her side. She felt intuitively that he had followed her, and his bold, bad glance, which he intended should be respectful, filled her with horror. 'Pardon me/ he said, <1 fear yon have lost your way.' She looked for a moment in the debauched face before her, and recoiled from putting herself under the guidance of such a man. 'Can I be of any service to you V he asked, still bending his repulsive blaok eye on her beautiful face. Suddenly she thought of a device; anything was preferable to walking with him, and she knew too little of the city to trust to his guidance. 'If you could direct me, sir, to the house of Mr. Cogshell. I am a stranger and have lost my way.' 'Mr. Cogshell/ the man smiled; 'there are a good many Mr. Cogshells in New York/ he replied. 'My uncle keeps a large store on Broadway, I think they call it/ said Star, ready to cry with vexation. '0! yes/ and his manner grew more respectful. Cogshell, of the firm of Brady, brothers. This is the street, Miss, and his residence is on the opposite side, some ways up. I will oonduct you there.' 'I thank you?I will find it myself/ said Star, with spirit; and crossing immediately she soon came to the massive front of her uncle's house. There her heart failed her again. How could she but remember that over those marble steps, her poor sick father was hurried, leaning on her mother and brother. She seemed to behold the ago- i ised upturned eye, that appeared almost to call down the curse of heaven on that cruel family. She saw her mother weeping; her brother's paleface; saw her father | fall back exhausted on the seat of the hospital carriage, when the conviction came to ' his soul that he had breathed heaven's air . for the last time. O ! could she ask aoy ; favor, however small, of the unkind people? i Her heart revolted from the thought, and I she stood irresolute; when, turning slightly, i she could see her persecutor standing on I the corner of the street, watching her move- ! meuts. i <1 can but ask tbem to send a servant ! with me to show me the way,' she murmer- 1 ed, and rang the bell. ' The porter appeared. He knew her in- 1 stantly, and before she could frame her re- J quest, he said with a haughty air, <The 1 ladies are all engaged, Miss; can't possibly J see anybody to-day, Miss.' 1 How fell this cruel stroke on her sensi- 6 tive heart. The blood rushed to her brain, 1 then receeded, leaving her pale as marble, T and still the insolent porter stood holding c the door, closing it slowly, slowly, and all r this in the face of the impertinent onlooker across the way. e JuBt as she was turning to leave the ha- r ted place, a sound of voices was neara, ine door was opened wider, and there, looking ^ full upon her, with both surprise and admi- d ration in his countenance, stood Mr. Carlisle, in the act of taking his departure. t [to be continued.] s # r Washington Irving.?The following r beautiful passage occurs in the touching a iiscourse delivered by the Eev. Dr. Creigh- b on, of Tarrytown, New York, on the 4th c lit, in reference to the death of Washing- s ;on Irving: v "We sorrow not with the sorrow of the a vorld, immoderately and in a repining spir- g t, because we can say with the disciples, t vhen they could not prevail on Paul to re- e nain, 'The Lord's will be done.' But we si lorrow because we can see his face no more. t< STo more at his own fireside, at which were m slustered cheerfulness, wit, humor, charity, < rindness, righteousness and all holy affec- n iioDs. No more in the social circle gather- o 3d at other homes, where every hand was & sxtended to greet him, and every heart 8] jprang up to give him the warmest wel- b jotne. No more in this holy place, where t< bis attendance was as uniform as his de- e meanor was earnestly devout. No more in t! the ministration of the rite of baptism, v which he always attended with feel- c ings of lively interest and delight. No t more at our annual confirmations, his eyes d ever gleaming with the foroe of Christian t sympathy. No more at the celebration of a the Lord's Supper, his manner expressive a of Christian humility and heartfelt grati- t tude to God for the privilege accorded him c thus to commemorate the Saviour's love.? And if the Lord had vouchsafed him anoth- t er week of health and strength, he would s have been with us to-day to share in the solemn eating and drinking symbolically of t the body and blood of Christ. But he has 1 passed, we hnmbly, though firmly trnst, c from the communion of the church militant i on earth to the supper of the Lamb?to the I church triumphant in heaven. We shall 1 see his face no more, but his image is in- 1 delibly impressed upon our' hearts, and his i lovely character shall be cherished so long ' as life shall last, and honored so long as men i have grace to cherish moral worth and the ' virtuous and honorable chiracter of a holy i example." $ I w . - , ', poplar lleairatg. i ANDBEW JACKSON. We give below sundry interesting extracts from the first volume of Parton's ad- ' mirable "Life of Andrew Jackson," just published in New York by Mason Brothers. 1 The following extracts will show the style and general oharacter of the work. The \ book cannot fail to interest readers of both 1 youthful and advanced years. Jackson's Birthplace.?In a large ' field, near the edge of a wide, shallow ra- 1 vine, on the plantation of Mr. J. W. Cureton, there is to be seen a great clump, or 1 natural summer-house, of Catawba grape- ' vines. Some remains of old fruit-trees near by, and a spring a little way down the ra- ' vine, indicate that a human habitation once stood near this spot. It is a still and soli- 1 tary place, away from the road, in a red, . level region, where the young pines are in ' haste to cover the well-worn cotton fields, . and man seems half inclined to let them do j it, and move to Texas. Upon looking under the masses of grape-vine, a heap of ' large stones showing traces of fire is discovered. These stones once formed the ! chimney and fireplace of the log-house wherein George McCamie lived and Andrew ! Jackson was born. On that old, yellow hearth-stone, Mrs. Jackson lulled her infant j to sleep, and brooded over her sad bereavement, and thought anxiously respecting the ' future of her fatherless boys. Sacred spot! not so much because there a hero was born, 1 as because there a noble mother suffered, 1 sorrowed, and accepted her new lot, and ' bravely bent herself to her more than 1 doubled weight of care and toil. Mischievous Andy.?To the old people 1 in the Carolinas, who are descended from 1 the sisters of Mrs. Jackson, Andrew Jack- 1 son is not so much the famous President 1 and the victorious General, as he is little ] Andy, the mischief-loving son of good aunt J Betty. Andy did this; and Andy went there; when Andy was at New Orleans, 1 and when Andy was .President?they say ' in familiar talk about him by the huge fireplaces of their old farm-houses. He is well < remembered in that part of the country, as there are twenty people living there who 1 were in the habit for many years of hearing 1 their parents tell stories of him; simple, < honest, hospitable people, whom to hear is 1 to believe. So changeless is the South, so > secluded do the farmers there live from the i world of men and books, that these kind ( people are evidently just what their grand- < fathers were before the Revolution, and their * great-grandfathers in Carricfergus. < Aunt Phyllis.?There is an aged slave t woman known in the neighborhood as old * Aunt Phyllis, living still on the Crawford ? farm, who lived there when Mrs. Jackson, c ninety-two years ago, brought her infant to 1 her sister's house. Aunt Phyllis appears c to remember her coming vividly. I saw a the old lady in her cabin, one of a small c street of negro cabins, pottering over the a Eire, and keeping an eye on half a dozen 1 small images of God cut in ebony, while d their parents were abroad in the fields.? P She is bent half double, but is otherwise F wlrrtklrr nrall nMOnntrnJ A f ftlO mon ^1 L cLLlai &aui j ncu pgoti rcu. ajlu nuw uiv/u- i ;ion of the name of Jackson, every wrinkle u n her old face laughed; but her recollec- b iions of the boy and his mother are scanty w n the extreme. She remembers Mrs. Jack- c ion as a stout woman who was always knit- tj log or spinning; 'a very good woman, and 81 rery much respected.' Of the boy she has l' me distinct reminiscence which the polite S eader must excuse me for repeating. As 1* ivery eye sees what it is capable of seeing, so h ivery memory retains what belongs to it to ft etain ; and the memory of aunt Phyllis is tl , memory in point. What she recollects of imdy is, that she assisted to cure him of a lisease which she called the 'big itch.' Anerew at the log-school.?In due ime the boy was sent to an 'old-field chool,' an institution not muoh unlike the oad-side schools in Ireland, of wbioh we ead. The northern reader is, perhaps, not ware that an 'old-field' is not a field at all, iut a pine forest. When crop after crop of pi otton, without rotation, has exhausted the lo oil, the fences are taken away, the land lies raste, the young pines at once spring up, nd cover the whole field with a thick re ;rowth of wood. In one of these old fields, tii he rudest possible shanty of a log-house is to rected, with a fireplace that extends from th ide to side, and occupies a third of the in- fif srior. In winter, the interstices of the log th rails are filled up with clay, which the rest- la ?ss fingers of the boys make haste to re- th iove in time to admit the first warm airs 01 f spring. An itinerant schoolmaster pre- oJ ents himself in the neighborhood; the re- 01 ponsible farmers pledge him a certain nam- it er of pupils, and an old-field school is esablished for the season. Such schools, call- A d by the same name, exist to this day in ? ho Carolinas, differing little from those u rhich Andrew Jackson attended in his d hildbood. Heading, writing and aritbme- fi ic were all the branches taught ia the early ii lays. Among a crowd of urchins, seated on r he slab benches of a school like this, fancy , tall, slender boy, with blue, bright eyes, d . freckled face, an abundance of long sandy b lair, and clad in coarse copperas-colored v iloth, with bare feet dangling and kicking a ?and you have in your mind's eye a pic- i are of Andy as he appeared in his old-field ? chool days in the Waxhaw settlement. ( Jackson's Pronunciation.?In proof i hat Jackson had once been a pupil of Dr. c CVaddell, an anecdote was related to me by 1 ine of the General's most intimate friends : ind fellow-soldiers. General Jackson, as lis associates remember, bad certain peon- < iarities of pronunciation, to which he always adhered. For example he would pro- i Bounce the word development, as though it < were written devil-ope-ment, with a strong iccent upon ope. One day, during his 1 Presidency, he so pronounced it, when in conversation with a foreign minister, who, I though not English, had been educated in 1 England, and plumed himself upou bis knowledge and nice pronunciation of the i Eoglish language. ?Devil-o;ie-ment,' said i the General, with emphasis. The ambassaador lifted his eyebrows sligbty, and in the oourse of a sentence or two, took occasion to pronounce the word correotly. The President, seeming not to remark his excellency's ] benevolent intention, again said 'devil-oy>e- 1 oaent;' whereupon the fastidous minister ventured once more to give the word its proper accent. No notice was taken of the , impolite correction. "i 'I repeat it, Mr. ,' continued the | President; 'this measure is essential to the | ievil-ope-ment of onr resources.' 1 'Really, sir,' replied the ambassador, <1 ] consider the de-ueZ-opement of your coun- , try'?with a marked accent on the vel. , Upon this, the General exclaimed, 'Ex- 1 cose me, Mr. . You may oall it de- | yeZ-opement if you please; but 1 say devil- t ypc-xnent, and will say devil-ope-ment as , long as I revere the memory of good old , Dr. Waddell ?' j His Wildness.?Andy was a wild, frol- 1 icksome, wilful, mischievous, daring, reck- j less boy; generous to a friend, but never | content to submit to a stronger enemy. He < was passionately fond of those sports which , ire mimio battles; above all, wrestling.? j Being a slender boy, more active than < strong, he was often thrown. i I coald throw him three times oat of j four,' an old schoolmate used to say; 'but i be would never ttay throwed. He was dead j *ame, even tben, and never would give up.' j He was exceedingly fond of running foot- | races, or leaping the bar, and jumping ; < ind in such sports he was excelled by no j jne of his years. To younger boys, who i never questioned his mastery, he was a gen- f jrous protector; there was nothing he would ] not do to defend them. His equals and su- I periors.found him self-willed, somewhat nverbearing, easily offended, very irascible,' | ind, upon the whole, 'difficult to get along j with.' One of them said many years after, ] n the heat of controversy, that of all the , Doys he had ever known, Andrew Jaokson j was the only bully who was not also a cow- ? ird. ? v j An Anecdote.?Time?late in the afr\f a Vi/\f rlnotw .QflrvtarnKflf /larr In 1 'ClUUUUj VI a LIUVj UUOBJ HV/ Ui WV4 \A%rnj iu L780. Place?the high road, five miles ] jelow Charlotte, where Mrs. Smart then i ived, a saucy girl of fourteen, at the home 1 >f her parents. ' The news of Gates' defeat 1 lad flown over the country, but every one g ?as gasping for details, especially those g vho bad fathers and brothers in the patri- c >tarmy. The father and brother of Mrs. \ Smart were in that army, and the family, t is yet, knew nothing of their fate; a coalition of suspense to which the women of ^ he Carolinas were well used during the evolutionary war. It was the business of j Susan, during those days, to take post at t me of the windows, and there watch for c ravellers, coming from the South ; and, c ipon spying one, to fly out upon him and t ak him for news of the army, and of the orps to which her father and brother were t ttacbed. Thus posted, she descried, on he afternoon to whioh we have referred, ri- jj ling rapidly on a 'grass pony,' (one of the : onies of the South Carolina sframps, ^ ough, Shetlandish, wild,) a tall, slender, ^ jangling fellow;' legs long enough to meet t nder the pony almost; damaged wide- s rimmed bat flapping down over bis face, t] rhich was yellow and worn; the figure ^ overedwith dust; tired-looking, as though ae youth had ridden till he could scarcely n it on his pony; the forlornest apparition 3at ever revealed itself to the eyes of Mrs. _ usan Smart during the whole of her long j( fe. She ran out to the road and hailed ^ im. Ho reined in his pony, when the jj >llowing brief conversation ensued between ^ lem; - ) fc. w She.?'Where are you from V 8( He.?'From below.' t* JShe.?Wbere are you going?' ? He.?'Above.' if She.?'Whoare you for?' Ia He.?'The Congress.' tt She.?'What are you doing below ?' bi He?'Oh, we are popping them still.' ai She (to herself.)?'It's mighty poor pop- I ng such as you will do, anyhow.' (A- ta ad.) 'What's your name ?' ti He.?'Andrew Jackson.' She asked him respecting her father's cc giment, and he gave her what informa- ee do he possessed. He then galloped away ei wards Charlotte, and Susan returned to h< ie house to tell his news and ridicule the tii jure he had cut?the gangling fellow on to ie grass pony. Years after, she used to T ugh as she told the story; and later, when at 16 most thrilling news of the time used to rii ome to Charlotte, associated with the name f Andrew Jackson, still she would bring nt her little tale, until, at last, she made: ; get votes for him for the Presidency. At Mrs. Wilson's.?At Mis. Wilson's, Lndrew paid hia board by doing what New Ingland people call 'chores.' He broughtj 1 wood, 'palled fodder,' picked beans, rove cattle, went to mill, and took the inning utensils to be mended. Bespeotag the last-named daty there is a striking eminiscence. 'Never,' Dr. Wilson would say, 'did AnIrew come home from the shops without ringing with him some new weapon with rhich to kill the enemy. Sometimes it was , rude spear, wmcn ne would rorge wniie waiting for the blacksmith to finish his job. Sometimes it was a olub or tomahawk.?' )nce he fastened the blade of a scythe to a )ole, and, on reaching home, began to cut lown the weeds with it that grew about the louse, assailing them with extreme fury, tod occasionally uttering words like these: 'Oh, if I were a men, how I would sweep> lown the British with my grass-blade I' Dr. Wilson remembered saying to hie mother when they were talking of Andrew jne day:? v *> 'Mother, Andy will fight his way in the world/ ^ r -v. The doctor lived to see his prediction fulfilled, and thongh he would never vote for his old companion, be rejoioed exceedingly when he heard, sixty yean after, that thin swearing, roystering lad had oome to be a contrite old man. Mrs. Wilson's chief re*, collection of her yoong guest was that hg was particularly willing to go out with bp into the garden and help her pick beans far dinner, wbich she attributed to tbe obligingness of bis disposition, butadded, 'Andy did like corn and beans, though,'. Mas. Jackson's Dzath?In tbe aom* mer of 1781, a great cry of anguish and despair came np to Waxbaw* from tbe j Charleston prison ships, wherein, among many hundreds of other prisoners, were confined some of the sons of Mrs. Jackson'* ?n J AttiAM ArtAM Ja nn/1 A* 1*SVa/ ubice'Bj auu uiucr niouuo ?uu uci^uuvio ui be re from the Waxhaw country- r Bfrs. Jackson had seen at Camden what prisoners of war may suffer, when officers disdain -heir duty, and contractors are scoundrel*. She had also seen what a little vigor and tact can effect in the deliverance of prisoners. Andrew was no sooner quite out of Sanger than his brave mother resolved-,**) go to Charleston (distant one hundred and sixty miles) and do what she could for the prisoners there. The tradition of the neighborhood now is, that she performed the entire journey on fbot,1n com papy with two jther women of like mind and pnrpoee. It is more probable, however, and so thought General Jackson, that these gallant women rode on horseback, carrying with them a precious store of gifts and rural luxuries rod medicine* for the solace of their imprisoned relatives, and bearing whole hearts full of tender messages and precious news From home- Protected, because unprotested, they reached Charleston in safety, and gained admission to the ships, and emptied their hearts and saddle-bags, and brought rach joy to the haggard prisoners as only prisoners know, when angel women from borne visit them. And the history of this blessed expedition ends. This only is ^further known of t, or will ever be. While stopping at the jouse of a relative, William ISarton by Dime, vho lived two miles and a half from Cbarestoo, Mrs. Jackson was seised with the ihip fever, and, after .a short illness, died, ind, was buried on the open plain near by. I have conversed with the daughter of William Barton, who is now Mrs. Tbomta Faulkner, of Waxhaw; but she was not born vhen Mrs. Jackson died in her father's lonse, and she is able to add nothing to oar cnowledge. of that event. One little fact ihe has beard her mother mention, which ibows the carefal honesty of this woe. Thus :lotbes of Mrs. Jttokson, a sorry handle, vere sent back from Charleston all the way o her sorrowing son at WaxhawPlaying Dice.?In December, 1782, o the joy and exaltation of all the soatfa>rn country, Cb^leeton was eraouated, and ts scattered whig families were free to ream to their homes. Andrew, finding the lountry dull after the departure of his gay ompanions, suddenly resolved to follow hem to the city. He mounted his horse, fine and valuable animal that he had conrived to possess, and rode to Charleston hrough the wilderness. There, it appears, e remained long enough to expend his lender stock of money, and ran op a long ill with his landlord. He was saved from Dial ruin by a curious incident, which is hus related by one who heard it from !tioelf: 'He had strolled one evening down be street, and was carried into a place rhere some persons were amusing themjlves at a game of dice, and mnch betting ra8 in progress. He was challenged for a ame by a person present, by whom a proosal was made to stake two hnndred dolirs against a fine horse on which Jackson ad come to Charleston. After some de beratiOD, be accepted tne cnanenge.? ortune was on hie side; the wager was on and paid. Ho forthwith departed, ittled his bill next morning, and returned t his home. 'My calculation,' said he, leaking of this little incident, 'was that, a loser in the game, I would give the ndlord my saddle and bridle, as far as tey would go toward the payment of his ill, ask a credit for the balance, and walk way from the citybut being successful, had new spirits infused into me, left the ble, and from that moment to the present me I have never thrown dice for a wager.' Early Practice.?Such of the old >urt records of West Tennessee as have leaped time, fire and vermin, contain just lough about Andrew Jackson to show that } jumped immediately into a large prac:e. It was customary then for a lawyer attend every court held in the State.? wo months after his arrival we find him tending court in Sumner county, a day's de from Nashville. ,