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Wfm ^ ^ mm em "" ?m, ' " ^ " ' "" ' lewis *. qei8t, proprietor. | An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. jts pee asxvk ht advahce. . VOL. 6. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THTJE8DAY, FEBRUAEY 23, I860. ? 1 1 - - Original For the Yorkville Enqnirer. THE FATRE8T FLO WEB. |bt harry hawthorn. Enthroned with beauty doth dwell The brightly crowned asphodel, And fair as the sky's fair bine, The meek-eyed violet's hue; And lovely as May morn's flush, Is the pretty rosebud's blush, And in the cowslip's sweet face, Beams beauteous, native grace,? And in these, faint emblems dwell, Of the maid I love full well. Oh ! brighter my love's eyes are Than yon silver gleaming star, And the red rose canot vie Knv ovnaf lin'a rlaonAP drA " "" *" o?v?. ?r ? ?r-- -/-> And violet of azure hue, Is not half so fair or true, And the regal poppy red, Lifts not sooh a noble head, And fairest lilies that blow, Can't equal her brow of snow. Her beauty iB grander far Than golden primroses are, Or the lovely jassamine, Or the pretty eglantine, Or the queenly tulip tree, Or the daisies wild and free? Oh! brightest of the flowers That bloom in earthly bowers, Is the fairy sylph I love All other maids above. CBARUtSTON, S. C. Jit Original Romance. WRITTEN FOB THK TORKVILLE ENQUIRER. "QTAP " JL Jt\> JCV? i BY MRS. MARY A. DENISON. CHAPTER XXXI. 3 STAE UNHAPPY. In her chamber, Star fell on the bed, 1 moaning and weeping, as if her heart would 1 break. It was not less the recollection of ' the painfnl part she bad been obliged to 1 take, than the anguish of the man whom * ? > ? lV.1 I 1.4. 4. 3 I 8D6 naa aemea, iusi uiuugui, tcaio auu wm from her tender little heart. ! 'Why, Star, what is the matter ? All so 1 happy down stairs ; only, Marshall missed 1 you terribly, and we couldn't think where ( you were. Why how yoa are crying, Star; ( do, please, tell me something; you worry 1 and frighten me.' Star lifted herself, her two little hands J still buried in the handkerchief that buried * her eyes, as she cried, 'Oh ! me?Media? ( if?if?you?knew how miserable I am! ( If you only knew !' And as if conscious 5 that this knowledge would make her friend j miserable, also, Star sobbed harder than 1 ever. 'Now, Star! it's too bad of you; I can't comfort you a bit. You ought to tell me ? just what the trouble is, and maybe I can suggest something,' said Media. 'No, no; impossible, unless you could ^ take me away from here. I have been the 1 means of causing misery to those I should 1 like to respect, if?if?I could.' v 'By those, you mean Mr. Carlisle,' suggested Media. s 'Yes, and your aunt Dora, and your * uncle; they will both be angry with me.' ' 'For refusing Mr. Carlisle, I suppose !? ( Is not that the upshot of the matter ?' 'Yes. I refused hiiu to night, and Oh I I you should have seen him ! He will be angry with me, with everybody, when he * comes to think how he has humbled him- * self.' 'Pooh! let him be angry then. You i shouldn't destroy your happiness for his ? sake. Besides, it would be wicked to mar- c ry such a man. 0 ! I could tell you a story ? of a poor wronged girl, who lived in one 8 of his elegant houses. Yes, no wonder you open your eyes?lived on the wages of infa- * my, but not till she had been shamefully ' treated. She has gone now ; a new face v not long ago, was the reigning star in that ^ beautiful house, and the other, miserably tear-stained, dreadfully lined with guilt, ' made old in its youth, is now only a heap ^ of ashes.' <0 ! you make me creep all over. I'm ^ glad I refused him. I don't care a bit for c his suffering. I don't believe in it?not a bit.' <i The two hands went down, the moisten- ? ed handkerchief fell to the door. F 'What a miserable evening !' sighed Star, ' 'from the time he sat in that seat. 0 ! dear, s I don't want to see him again. I detest ^ him; I fear him. Media, he's not too good ' to do any fearful deed.' 1 'I think so myself,'said Media. ^ 'Do you believe?Oh !?he spoke so terribly of Mar? There, I shouldn't tell e you that.' And up went the handkerchief to n a crimsoned face. b 'Why! did he suspect?did you tell e him ?' And there Media, too, crimsoned, b and hesitated. s 'No, he accused me,' said Star, after a c short silence, full of confusion ; 'and be c threatened. But of coarse, it was because t he was in a passion then, you know.' s 'He's a dangerous man,' said Media?her face troubled?'but Marshall can defend t himself.' s Meanwhile, Mr. Carlisle had staggered c out, unseen, into the garden, where the t hum and the music came faintly. He was ? full of wrath and anguish?brows knit c teeth and hands clenched, chest laboring? quick, harsh mutterings falling indistioct- ii Iv from bis lips. He did not know whith- c V * *. I w er his steps tended, but walked on and on. Presently he heard voices that he recogni- j p sed. 'What do you suppose it means V j t 'I'm sure, I don't know; how frightened js the poor little thing looked ! If that rich lubber, Carlisle, has insulted her, he'll rue it. ( 'Well, we bad better go in; perhaps Me-it dia has come down?she will tell us.' And the young men sauntered again toward the house. 'Rich lubber!' muttered Carlisle, not quite sure which of the two had designated him in that manner. 'Go, go, my young friend/ he added bitterly, 'sometime, you may go and not come again.' The rich man was to be pitied. For the first time he bad formed a genuine attachment ; at an age, too, when the passions are not lightly checked or controlled. Many a cup of sorrow had he held to the lips of the helpless; now, the bitter had come to his own. He was proud, and to be rejected by a girl like that?to be as muoh as told to his face, that he was the object of her dislike, and another was the objeot her love ! It was too muoh; and though it did not change his love to hate, it made him eager for reveDge. There was that in his blood, that set his heart and brain throbbing with hot pulses of fire. CHAPTER XXXII. BOATING?AND AN ACCIDENT. The next day, there came a great dread over Star. She had to I)e coaxed and reasoned oat of it, before she could be prevailed upon even to go down to breakfast. There she met Dora, who seemed cold and unsympathising. Mr. Carlisle was not present. Everybody looked pale and fatigued; the house was in confusion still, though servants had been hard at work all the morning. 'Well! what's the programme for to day?' asked Mark Hamilton, showing a purple hollow under his eyes as he lifted them heavily. 'Boating, I believe,' said Dora. 'Boating, is it ? The wind is rather high for that, seems to me,' was the reply. 'Mr. Carlisle thinks it will go down by noon?it only wants two hours. He has gone out to engage boats?four in all.' 1 'And are there four people here who can manage a boat ?' '0, yes! Mr. Carlisle and his three 1 friends are excellent sailors,' replied Dora. i Star was averse to going, but Media was ] %11 AA/?AwnAoa Pocirlaa \ToV\a 11 rviif in a c All OagCl ucoo. xuaiouau put iu a c word?he should he so (bashfully) happy if she would go ! That carried the day?or 1 rather the lady. ( Star was rather languid and disinclined 5 to exertion. So it happened that despite 1 ill Media's urging and helping, the party, of j which she made one, was the latest at the i wharf. All the boats were under way but 1 )ne?a small and rather unsafe looking lit;le vessel, though gaily painted. Her sail t was full of seams and patches. f There, to Star's extreme alarm, she saw ( Mr. Carlisle on the steps, waiting very pa s ;iently, with folded arm's and a cold stern ^ ;ye. His face was clearer than it had seem?d before?there was not a trace of color ihout it; and the black, beautifully regular; jrows and moustache, told well on its polshed paleness. g Star shrank back affrighted.* t <1 can't go if he sails her, Media/ she aid. \ 'Nonsense!' cried Media, sotto voce. 'If you hang back so, he'll think youit lave relented, and begin again perhaps; no, i t 10, if you don't want to be persecuted, ? nake out as you didn't care a farthing.? j See ! he has turned round?come along!' s So Star allowed herself to be coaxed, ind outwardly calm, she encountered the _r VT_ l. T* i I.J ? I ieeu eye 01 lur. varnue. j.touiy resieu ou ler face for a moment. He did not change iountenance nearly as mnch as Star did? c )ut busied himself immediately about pre- i Daring the boat. c A gay sight! The waters beaming with he sun flashes reflected from the rocks!? t ^ long wide stretch of vivid, sparkling blue f >elow; the same overhead; white sails in svery direction ; shouts?singing ! Mar- I (ball had brought his violin. If they staid f >ut till moonlight/ he said, -music would I lound so much more beautiful. It had been s t long time since he played upon the water.' t Mr. Carlisle made no comments. .In c landing the ladies in, they passed first by c Marshall, then by Mr. Carlisle, whose hand t vas as cold as Star remembered to have t elt it once before. 'Heavens!' she thought, as she sat where c le commanded, and caught the gleam in ] ter eye, 'suppose he should drown us all!' i The only reflection that counteracted this ear was, that she didn't believe he would p lare to go into eternity, just yet. g Now?the sails were trimmed?the la- a ties told how they must manoeuvre, and t rery soon the boat was cutting a graceful d lath through the limpid water. Mr. Carisle was ominously quiet. He busied him- s elf about the little craft, and sometimes? v ?ut not often?gave Star and Marshall, v ?ho sat together, a strange glance; a glance v hat seemed to say?'look out for me, I am s langerous.' 11 The breeze freshened a littie as they near- [ d the point, where agreement had been |3 aade to stop and take supper. The wind . legan to change and blow from a north 11 ast corner. The sun grew somewhat pale; mt the merry party noticed none of these ignals of rough weather, until they were j m the point of returning. When they were' learly all ready, Mr. Carlisle discovered j hat there was something to do with the c ail. 5 'Look here,' he cried, in his authorita-i ive manner, to the boat nearest them, 'we hall not be ready for fifteen or twenty min- r ites, and the weather grows rough; just ? ake Mr. Butts and these two ladies in ? yitb you; there's room enough. This young c nan will stay to keep me company, I know.' I Certainly,' said Marshall, standing, cap 8 a hand, the cool wind bringing a fresh 1 olor in bis cheeks. t Well, then, you had better go right in; ;o ladies, if you please. I'? 1; 'But I don't want to leave Marshall, if,a here's going to be any danger,' said his j I ister, nervously. tl No danger in the world,' responded Mr. ti Carlisle, still seemingly busy with some- 1; hing in the side of the boat. 'The craft is j fi old, but sea-worthy j come ladies, you ought not to keep them waiting and the wind freshening' At this, the little party moved reluctantly forward?the boat grazed against the wharf, and, in another moment, they were flying before the wind?the evening growing every moment darker?and Star pale, nervous, anxious, frightened, she knew not why. They had not noticed that Mr. Carlisle was attired in a suit of a peculiar style? very light, thin and close; and the gaiters he wore seemed as flexible as the very skin of his feet. Now, STr. Hamilton,' said Mr. Carlisle, a few moments after the rest were gone, 'to tell you the truth, I'm afraid the old boat is a little leaky, and I knew the fewer passengers we had in, the easier we could manage her. A shower ooming, as I live,' he added, catching some drop9 on his outspread palm. 'They will soon be over at this rate, though. Can you swim, Mr. Hamilton ?' Ann vrrnnlrJ Kotta 4-Virvlif a nnoafinn I i vuo nv/uiu uaig vuuutjuv tuio \juuouvu the most natural and composed in the world, but the lips went together with a spring, the nostril dilated?the eyls seemed to wince in expectancy. 'No, sir ; strange to say, as much as I have been on the water, I never learned to 1 swim,' replied Marshall. 'Ah! well, I apprehend we shall get through,' said Mr. Carlisle, doing every thing in the most deliberate manner. 'I i suppose you won't object to bailing ont, if i need be, or taking your turn at the helm ?' 'Certainly not,' was the reply. 'The wind grows pretty strong, doesn't it ?' 'Very,' said Mr. Carlisle, making preparations to be off. 'There's every prospect i of a stormy night. Now, Mr. Hamilton, I take your seat in the stern-r-bless me, how dark it is! Here we go.' < The wind came in gusts, keeping Mr. ' Carlisle busy managing the sails; and before long, it became evident that the old f boat was leaking badly. The other party i had landed before they were half across the ' river; and Marshall had the agreeable pros- I pect of being kept hard at work, till they should make the shore. < 'Well, this is a queer breeze, or else I < have forgotten my seamanship,' said Mr. 1 Carlisle, as the little vessel careened from 1 side to side; now almost dipping in the 1 vater?and now righting herself with a ' erk; then came a sharp shout, 'look out J 'or yourself, Mr. Hamilton?good God, we 1 ire over!' * The boat had turned. There was one drilling cry, and Mr. Carlisle struck out 'or the shore." He was a capital swimmer? ;ool, deliberate, fiendish; for he had left a I itruggling man behind, and by his manoeu-; rers the boat had been upset. j CHAPTER XXXIII. j CRUEL NEWS. j 'I never saw you so pale, Star; you must i ?o to bed immediately,' said Media, patting; he colorless cheek. 'You tremble, too.' 'I wish we had only staid till they come,' vas the low reply. 'What! out in this rain ? Hear it drive igainst the windows, and see how quickly j he dark has come ! For my part, I was so j *lad to meet the carriage. I'm so glad toj ;et home. After all, one don't feel quite j iafe on the water.' 'Do you think your brother has arrived yet ?! 'Shouldn't wonder?I'll go down and see j -shall I ?' i '0 ! no?no; don't go and leave me? lon't. It seems as if I heard such a roarng in my ears,' and she drew the white: overlet up and held it againt her temples. | 'Star, you re nervous! You 11 certainly g lave brain-fever, if you give way to your 1 eelingsso; you?' s 'But, Media, there was an awful look in s lis eye; there was, you may depend, a mad, renzied look. If he were a good man, and n ! had disappointed or wounded him ever o much, I should never he afraid of him ; s iut from some dreadful expressions he s nade use of last night, I'm sure he is base, :apable of any bad thing?and?Oh ! I y remble so ! Hark, did any one come? I d hought I heard voices.' ii Star ! what shall I do with you ? I wish is nother was here. I will go for aunt Dora, fou need some medicine; something sooth- a ng?I wish I knew what.' 'No, no; don't leave me,' pleaded Star, a irettily, holding out her hands. ?I should ;o crazy, with this roaring in my ear's, just s if the waters were surging, swelling and reaking over rocks, where men were Irowned. Oh ! dear, dear, dear.' a' Media caught the infection of Star's if eemingly needless dread. She ran to the p ?indow and listened. Drip, drip, drip h rent the rain, striking a million leaves; s] rhir?whir?whir?sounded the wind in hort, sharp gusts, slapping her face famil- e: irily; and a tremulous roar ran along the aargin of the banks while the drops of the torm stuck on her cheeks like tears. 1j 'They ought to be here,' she said, grow- b Qg pale and clasping her hands?'there eally is a storm, and it is so dark ! so dark !' Star sobbed and moaned again, then lis- ii ened. e 'What is it, Star, for pity's sake?what ?' ?I heard a voice?as if some one had g ome. Hark ! hark ! there it is; go down, si Iedia.' Her tones grew hollow. 'I'm h ure something has happened !' h So Media, with terror in her eyes, flew ather than ran through the passages, and a own the stairs, where, before she had u ained the lower ground, she heard faintly, b rics of terror and the sound of heavy feet. f< ler strength almost deserted her?nor was fi he hardly equal to the exertion of pushing w be door open into the room, from whence } be sounds proceeded. w There?she comprehended but too quick- g y?Mr. Carlisle stood ; white, dripping, jai nd with a look almost of frenzy in his face.i d )ora was sobbing and flinging up her arms; w be nurse and the child were crying simul- tl aneously; and Mark Hamilton talked louder and rapidly, at the same time ringing C or servants. j qi 'My brother! my brother 1' shrieked Media. 'Where is he? What have you done i with him V Her face was almost distorted by terror; and laer wild cry set Dora and the rest raving more piteoasly. 'Miss Hamilton, I have done all that mortal man coald. Yoa see in what a con- ' dition I am. The boat went over?there was no help near?it was almost dark?and | I fear ' i '0! Marshall; Oh! my brother 1 my i brother!' moaned Media, sinking prostrate to the floor. Then she sprang to her feet ! as she oried, < 'Coward! yoaconld swim; why did you ! not save him ? No, you know, and God 1 knows, that yon consented unto his death. i Uncle Mark! can nothing be done??why i are boats not sent out ? Oh! quick! quick! come down to the river?bring lights?he \ may be floating-?now, come,' and she flew ? towards the doer. > 'Stop! child,' cried her uncle, catching < at her arm, 'boats have been sent ont, two or three of them; every effort has been i made. To-morrow?' j He stopped Bhort, appalled?for gliding i in, till she stood transfixed in the centre of the floor, was Star, white as a sheeted < ghost; her hands clasped, her wild eyes < open to their utmost width?her hair fal- i ling round her like a glittering veil. 1 She did not shriek; did not weep; did ? not moan, even. She only looked straight t at Mr. Carlisle with those gleaming eyes, and pointed her finger at him till his glance t fell, and with a frown, he hurried from the < room. ' It was a house of mourning. Dora, < whose nerves would not bear the slightest < shock, went into hysterics, and from one i 6t to another till daylight. A physician ] was in constant attendance. Star and Me- t din lay clasped in each other's arms, talking i with shudderings and convulsive sobs. The dawn came with bine skies and red t sun. Save the darker tinting of the walks, i ind the wet leaves strewn here and there, t none would have known that a storm had t ourst over the land. ? 'My poor mother!' moaned Media, standing haggardly at the window. 'Oh! Star, ? loes it seem possible ? 0 ! my beautiful jrother! my gifted brother !?they will ind him tn-dnv. nftrhans.' nhn adrtad with n J J r r~, ~~ 'earful voice. 'To see him brought here, : Star, cold, dead?Oh !?and he went off yesterday so gaily?so happily! Star, I vish I had gone with him. It seems so iwful to die in that way?to perish, alone !' Not a word said Star; but you could see he pulses of her white temples throb, aod v >ne could tell by the way she held her lips ind hands, and by her eyes all strained and ^ jloodsbot, what was the anguish of her inlermost soul. I Bogus had gone off with Mark and Mr. Carlisle early iu the morning, after setting nen at work with drags, to find the body.? j [he city was their destination. Fred was agonized. He knew how the ^ )low would strike; into what perfect haruony and beauty that home-circle was rounled; what joys, hopes and great aims cenred there! 0, to paralyse them with this j( iruel stroke! The cars flew not swifter ^ han his thoughts. Blankly he looked a- , tout, to find himself in the city; blacker nd gloomier loomed the tall, dingy storemuses, and the signs all seemed painted in >lood. The sunlight that lay across the treets he did not heed, nor the crowds pass- ^ ng and repassing. The thoughtless converation of some one near him, knocked a;aiust his brain, as if every^ word was the ^ ap of a hammer. Here they were then, right before the :rocery?they bad but to cross the street ?here came Mr. Hamilton with his cherry Q( mile, his hand-greeting, looking a little g( urprised to see his clerk before the time. 'So, .Bogus ! you got tired?what's the j aatter my lad?' A dead silence- The man seems going omewhere within himself to gather up his u trength before he speaks again. oi 'You have bad news, Mark ! I read it in t{ our faces; come into the shop. Hist!? jt on't speak loud?my little woman is just |j aside. There?now, I can bear it?which gj sit? What is it?' Bogus broke down at the look in his face, aj nd cried like a baby?so he was of no use. ^ Mark tried to be firm as he said?'you Q| lust know it sooner or later. Marshall! we -we all went on a boating excursion, and -and?' iD 'Marshall was drowned ! Oh ! my God !' He gave a short, quick gasp, then bent ^ Imost double, leaning on the counter, as jt : his body was not strong enough to sup- a, ort the shock. His face changed to the w ue of white ashes?his features contracted pasmodically. 0I '0 ! do please go in,' said Bogus, fright- >p ned at his look; 'I'll take care of the shop.' l( 'Have they?have they?recovered his V( -body?' gasped the stricken father, slowj, lifting himself, but not as upright as pj efore. w Mark shook his head. m Customers are coming?you must go w i,' said Bogus, with quivering lips; 'leave very thing to me/ (j( 'My God ! give me resignation, my God! ivc me strength,' murmured the grocer, lowly. 'Oh ! Marshall! Marshall! my on- ^ j son ! How?shall?I?tell?it?to? j er?' he almost sobbed. y Seeing then that people were gathering w nd looking strangely upon him, the poor th ian moved away feeling along as if he were ? lind, and walking so feebly, that Mark of- ti< jred to take his arm. But his brother re- ca 1Sed?tried to straighten himself, tried to h< 'alk manfully?and he went in?in where Iary sat stitching, cheerfully, and Bilba se >as dusting the room, and Tiney, with aE rave little face, puzzled over her lesson; yC nd the baby lay crowing awake in the erale, and the nunshino streamed over the at hole room glorifying the human pictures ot lere. h< ?0! father?tell me this?the Indian je cean is?' She stopped short, with a curi- d( us face. tb 'Lawrence, have you heard from the obildren ? I should think? She too, stopped short, and in her eye was a fearful looking for evil?of what, she knew not. She laid her sewing down, and never took her eyes from him as he came slowly forward, Mark behind him. 'Mary?' The faltering tone, the averted glance. 'God, has been very good?in? sparing our?children?so?long?has He not?' 'There is not a bit of color in your face Lawrenoe?something has happened to ohange you so ! Something has happened, Lawrence Hamilton! I know something has happened!' and she kept repeating it, is if to ward off the confirmation of her :eara. 'Mary, be calm ; Tiney, don't cry, dear; ye have fallen upon great trouble. I'm ifraid you will never see dear Marshall any nore!' And he stroked the golden hair )f the child with his shaking hand. Mary raised her eyes and hand, said not a yord, but fell into a dead swoon, and the jobbing Bilbl lifted her and carried her nto the bed room. <0 ! father! father! I felt as if I must :ome home and comfort you,' sobbed Melia, entering the room at that moment, aluost as bowed down with grief as her uother had been. <1 came right off in the lecond train. I should have di6d, all the ;ime in sight of that river/ 'Go in there, to her, Media,' said the jtricken man. 'Mark, keep the people mt, I see they are pouring into the kitchen, rell them we are in trouble?we can't see :hem. Bilba ! shut the blinds?we all lov;d him so much. I don't wonder you cry, ny poor girl. Mark will you tell Bogus? Frederic, you know?to shut up shop, imnediately ? Oh ! my God?thy hand has alien heavily upon me I' So the people went wondering away from ;be shop, and the fearful news spread?by light was in all the papers?and?'poor hings ! how bad they must feel!' was the riding comment on thoughtless and stran ;er hps. [conclusion next week.] DripaJ jjajflx Written for the Yorkvllle Enquirer "NEVEB SAY DIE !?* BY LAOQHINQ LIZZIE. That's so 1 I do love that man or woman, whoever he or she may be, that can 'try gain' after a failure, and 'push along, ;eep moving,'notwithstanding all the obtaoles and obstructions in the path of life. respeot that man that struggles on for j ears amidst misfortune, failure and adver- j ity; and finally, by the potency of energet- j c efforts, feels his way out of the dark and j ifts his head high above the fog, with a \ iearty 'hurrah for ourside !' If a man's house is fired by the hand of n incendiary, or if his crop proves a failire, what in the world is the use, or where 3 the philosophy, of going about with a ace as long as a yard-stick, and saying : [ am a ruined man!' Ruined indeed ! why he best thing in the world to do under uch circumstances, is to use the ashes for lanure; rake out all the old hinges, nails nd bolts for the other house, and just rork twice as hard as before. If the hogs die from cholera, or the cows xpire with the 'black tongue,' get up an our earlier in the morning, and dispense ith some of your accustomed luxuries for. while, until, by hard work and economy, ou can save enough to buy more hogs and ow8. Give me such a man; and your ;ented, whiskered, white-fingered, starchd-up, gilt-buttoned exquisites can go to ericho, for all I care. That's so, gents ! Young writers, let me whisper a word 1 your ears: Don't go off the handle, or ilk about the Editor's lack of appreciation f the flights of genius, because he happens ) throw your manuscript under the table, istead of handing it to the printer for pubcation. If your article is rejected, just t down and write another and bestow lore pains upon it; and if that be rejected Iso, why, just keep on writing better and etter, until your compositions are worthy f publication. Composition is not altogethr a gift?indeed, I am persuaded that it is j much an art as music, painting or printig. You must serve your apprenticeship ; composition; must read much and < loughtfully; study human nature in all , s phases; be a close observer of matters id things in general. You sometimes onder how such and such a writer sue- j jeds so well; but if you would ask his se- . et, he would tell you that he practice&. ( he whistling ploughboy is perfectly ama- , id and carried away when hearing his fa- j )rite airs artistically executed upon the , irp or piano; but his hands could never , luck snoh strains from those instruments < ithoat appropriate culture and practice.? either can you hope to excel as a writer, ithout the understanding of the principles ' composition, and continual practice. But jn't give up; 'never say die !' Girls, I am about to say a word to you? 3ld up your heads ! I often feel sad at le thought, that we may love ever so dear, ever so passionately and devotedly, and it be unable, because of the position which e occupy in social life, to make known lat love to the object of our affections.? declare it's too hard ! The lords of crea an must first make love to us, before we n reveal the deep feelings of oar poor ;arts; and, even then?0 my ! it does seem at every body but the one we most love, eks our acquaintance and asks our hands id hearts in marriage. That particular ?ung man?the one we love?passes us in e streets day by day, meets us at ohurch id public assemblages, and is sore to oross tr path every day in the year. Aod yet ) has not the faintest idea that he is an obct of interest to us; that we long, so ar;ntly for his acquaintance and love; and ] ien, to make matters worse, it soon be- [s comes reported about town that he is engaged to be married to one's own cousin or most intimate friend ; I tell you, girls, its all luok, after all. It depends altogether upon circumstances whether or not you ever make the acquaintance of the man you love. By the way, I ought to remark just here, that a young lady should endeavor to place her affeotions upon one whose acquaintance she has already formed and whose sentiments she understands. But, 0, my ! it is so hard to sohool and discipline a woman's heart. Aint it) girls ? However, don't drink poison, or throw yourself into the pond, because your love affairs do not go exactly according to your wishes. I'm quite a philosopher, girls? indeed I am?and my advice to everybody with head-aches and heart-aches, is quite simple: Keep cool, do the best you can to remedy matters, and trust to God. "Never say die 1"?never allow anything to unnerve your hearts, but oheer up .. J r :/ a a- J _ -11 uuu iase courage, ior, u you iry to uo an in your power to rend the oloads and let ont the warm, bright sunshine all aronnd yonr path, many a withered flower will be revived, and the snow about the door of your hearts will soon, very soon be thawed, and the gTeen clover and wild daisy will look all the fresher and prettier because they have been hid so long. Young men, don't?please don't?make fools of yourself, because some heartless woman has so far forgotton her exalted position as to trifle with the holiest feelings of your heart. If she has deceived you, if she has broken the sacred vows of love, and finally discarded you, take off your hat and raise it high above your head with a hearty hurrah for common sense. Congratulate yourself that you have so easily got clear of such a heartless woman, and do not for a moment imagine, that snch creatures are true representatives of all the girls in the world. I know that you will have a struggle, for the heart of man can and does love very passionately, notwith standing all that may be said to the contrary, but as a reasonable and thinking being, I insist upon it, that you can banish her memory from your mind and laugh as heartily as ever. 0 my! I do wish everybody would try I to be happy, that the* days were longer, and the nights shorter, in our hearts! I declare my reader, I sometimes think that, as a people, wo are very much given to grumbling, and that our dispositions are becoming morose, sour, fretful and all that kind of thing. There is much left in the world for which jour hearts should be profoundly grateful. : The daily experience is not all dark and sad, as some would have us believe, but blessings as thick as the dust of the desert and as bright as the stars of heaven are continually falling into our lives and hard insensible hearts. But, I cannot make it otherwise, though T wrnt.P ft thmisand nnlnmns ! nnd as * ? / "Little boats should keep near shore," perhaps I should get into deep water if I do not bring these remarks to a close. In so doing, I would remind that 'laughter loving young girl/ that used to stand on his head when he was a boy, to keep his promise, and follow me in all my literary (?) wanderings. Brush up, Willie?I am so anxious to hear what you have to say on this subject. Good bye, dear reader, but 'Never say die!' For the Yorkville Enquirer. "RUBY" ON GLOVES. Gloves are good things. This by way text. Now for the expounding. From the earliest ages, they have been used by all classes of men, for various purposes, but I believe that all commentators and antiquaries and soholiasts are agreed, that their principal use was to keep the hands warm. The deceiving Jacob was the first person who wore kid gloves, and since his time, many fair and gay deceivers have adopted his fashion. Throwing down the glove was in ancient times, equivalent to a defiance to mortal combat. As the glove was made of steel, it has been thought by many, that the challenger would have acted more wise ly, by throwing it at his adversay, and thus securing the desired combat, and at the < same time the advantage of the first blow. It may not generally be known that gloves i have been used as writing materials, but it i is recorded that when some Maxwell or i other, was besieged in some castle or other, , and was getting very tired of his diet of ! old boots and rats, he contrived to get a i message to Sir William Wallace, acquaint- ' ing him of his danger. That gallant hero 1 being in the trenches before another castle, i and ready to begin the assault, took his s dagger and engraved on his brass gauntlet \ "Reviesco?God is with us" and dispatched < it by mail, i, c., a warior clad in armor, to < the suffering Maxwell. Whether the Max- s well took courage, or whether the English * took him, I do not distinctly remember.? i But there is another point of view in which i gloves may be considered. Take a glove, ( jut off the g; what is left but love ? Take < i glove, cat off the fingers; what do you r make but a mitten ? So gloves may be 1 joosidered with reference to their connec- 1 section with love and courtship, but not t with marriage. Now I can conceive of no I more delicate yet invaluable gifc from a fair t lady to a gentleman, than one of her gloves, c There should be to the favored recipient a sothing but her, dearer or better. "It brings c ser, as it were, near him, though she be i ifar off, for when he has that memento of j ler, that little glove still bearing the shape r )f the beautiful hand which it at once shield- t >d and adoroed, with all the curious and i ntricate network of lines, which nature's t nost delicate brush has pencilled; his s magination recalls the band, and the arm, t ind the polished shoulders and the slender fa leek, and the fair, white breast, and the 'ounded form, so lithe and graceful in all fa ts proportions, until a glorious image dwells fa within the brightest chambers of fancy's r jalace, and he sees her, the queen of his \ loul, in all her radiant loveliness as when i beneath the star-lit sky she said in softest \ tones 'Remember me with this/ Brave ( Knights have gone into the battle with t their lady's glove upon their helmets, and 1 under this alone as their crest, and aoima- 1 ted by the smiles of its fair donor, have c fonght and died to prove her fairest of the i fair in all the land. And should I ever be g called to join in the conflicts of war, my c country's glory, and my lady's love, would j be the greatest incentives to exertion, and c in their defence would death be welcome, t and I would pray tbat my last look might c be raised to our country's flag and last kiss ( might be pressed upon my lady's glove. < [to be continued.} 1 MM* ( Written for the YorkviHe Enquirer. ^ TEMPERANCE. 1 DISCOURAGEMENT GROUNDLESS. fi But properly to appreciate the progress \ made in this reform, you must consider the j character of the public laborers in this t it - a J 1_* 1_ cause, auu tue circumstances uuuer wnicu they labor. Here we may find another reason why it is often slow in its onward coarse, yet famishing no jast groand for discouragement. To carry forward this work,.we have no order of men educated, and set apart exclusively, as in law, medicine and theology. In other departments of labor, men are prepared by a previous coarse of training, for their field of labor. Others judge of their fitness after examination and trial, and the result is, they labor efficiently. Not so in this cause. The laborers are from every class, from all professions and from every department of labor. Each of these is sole judge of his capacity for the work?of his ability to teach. The result is, while some are workmen that need not to be ashamed, and of whom the friends of temperance may well be proud, yet there will, of necessity, be some who are not the men to build up any cause, arViora l nfpllinronpA lnain nr />lns\nanAa ia necessary. One is ignorant, and says things that are not true. Another is indiscreet, and utters trnths out of time and out of place, which only tends to increase prejudice and stir up enmity. There is another class?men of one idea, who cannot see how any subject can be properly discussed without, at the same time, vindicating our 'Peculiar Institution,' demagogistn; or, if at the North, setting forth in glowing colors the piety of abolitionism and the Bin of 'man-stealing 1' In the legislative hall, on our national birth-day, before a literary society, or a female college, or in a sermon, it is all the same. This one idea, being on the surface, is brought out prominently, to the disgust of all. Occasionally, one of a similar class is found advocating the cause of temperance: one who cannot be tied down to the subject of Total Abstinence, or the propriety of banishing intoxicating drinks from society; but must discuss the state, the church, the use of wine in communion, or some subject not necessarily allied to the temperance cause?thus diverting attention, dividing our energies and protracting the conflict. And these are hindrances which, in the present state of s things, we may expect, and which cannot r be avoided. They shoultf cause no dis- ( couragement. But this is not all. Men who labor in j this cause, do not make it their exclusive f business. They go at their own charges. They work at intervals. Scraps of time taken from some regular vocation?crumbs which fall from a table of ordinary and daily ? returning duties, are gathered up and given c to this cause. Very often he goes to work, i conscious that he is creating difficulties for 11 himself in some other sphere of duty. But t this is the best that can be done, Uh4er 8 present circumstances. In view of all the ' disadvantages from the character of the la- i bors, it is surprising that so much has been ' done in so short a time. D If we could have, as we ought, even in n part, the aid of the learned professions and of influential men in high places, the cause b of temperance would move onward with ra- b pidity. It is matter of regret that they do a not all labor with us. It is a great hindrance. Until the teachers of morality and religion, the conservators of our health, ^ the defenders of our rights and the makers! ^ of our laws, all unite with us, this reform cannot be complete. Why they do not, is for each one to say. It is not because this is not an important work; nor that it would v not be, if completed, greatly beneficial to n individuals and to the community at large. a Nor is it because there can be any doubt lbout the efficacy of the means proposed as a i remedy. Many are for this cause in ^ words, but against it in deeds. They say, 11 be ye warmed and clothed, but give noth- ? ng.' The minds of some are strangely con- " itructed, and are not in their movements 01 mdcr the influence of ordinary laws. They jan see that the owner is responsible for the jonduct of his dog, and he must pay for the 01 iheep which he kills; but cannot see that ^ iny person is responsible when a citizen is nurdered by strong drink. An innocent wife and helpless children may be robbed )f their property, of their good name, and ;ven of their natural protector, and all is -ight! But a thievish dog must not go at th arge, or else the corse of the State will be aid upon him as well as bis master. But he pedlar of poison may go free, provided le deals it out in large doses! And that he poor may be accommodated, and for a onsideration, they give a license for retail, h< ,nd thus the chivalrous State of South Car- as ilina, by her legislation, becomes a partner a n the vile traffic in liquid poison! Is it D? possible that the voters of South Carolina w equire this at the hands of their represen- Wl atives? Surely not. If they do, it is av ime for all honest and sober men to retire lit o private life, where they can preserve f0 elf-respect, and allow such a constituency o be represented by men after their own leart. L In due time such obstacles as these will L< ift remrwed. The eves of men will SOOn L " / " le opened to sec that intemperance does la lot fit men for making laws; and that pro- la risioo to secure sobriety among the masses li' s a fit aabject for legislation. And they L fill 8eod representatives lrbo will act aclordingly. Until tire time comes, let not ;be friends of Temperance be discouraged. SToa have reason to rejoice that so'tetidh las been done. The annals of the past annot show amy case where a work, lookng to tho outward condition, so great, io jood and so extensive, has been so thoroughly done in thirty years. Bat if is not ret complete; let not-the friends of the taase relax their efforts. Frequent violaions of the pledge by members is a great liscoaragemeDt to many. Bat a careful ixamination will show that this almost nejessarily grows ont of the terms of ad mislion to temperanoe societies. It ahonld he ixpected in many oases, and should thereore not disoonrage a? all. Church mem>ere are received after examination, and ire admitted on the ground of possessing Loowledge and piety, not as they may saplose, bat on the jadgment of the offioere of he oharoh; yet with all this preeautioQ nany fall from their profession. Sot the erms of admission to a temperance society ire very different. All are reeeived who vish admittance, and who are willing to >ledge themselves to total abstinenoe, with>ut regard to knowledge, previous Jife or >resent condition. Each is judge, in his >wn case. He may be sincere or he may iot; he may be habitually temperate, or it nay be the winding up of a drunken delanoh. Pledging himself, he is reeeived is a member. It is not surprising under hese circumstances, that many should ireak their pledge. They were siooere in heir resolve, but their purpose was weak, be templation was great, or. the. cravings of i vitiated appetite were irresigtahle, and bey fell. Indeed, it is rare that any one, iroperly intemperate, has ever literally earied ont the pledge, unless when the tempation to indulgence has been entirely rendered, or where they have availed themselves >f the sustaining influence of true piety.? Dthers abandon the tempeanee cause, tier a season of effort in its behalf, turn raitors, and endeavor toodver the baseness )f their desertion by slandering the cause vhich they advocated. We should fee] he deepest sympathy for the emng'violator of his pledge, who would return to a ife of sobriety, and who hy diligence )n veil-doing, would make amends for the inury done to the*cause. But the hypocriti;al traitor, who espouses a cause to betsay t, merits the contempt of ail good and so-^ ier men. Such difficulties gro^eJtat of the latnre of the case, and dp notj iherel^e, furnish any real ground for discouragement. Many reclaimed inebriates now rejoice 'in ;be blessings conferred on them, by this fe orm. Very maoy families, respectable and low well provided for, are trophies of this ilessed work. And a great multitude are low valuable citizens, and donbtleSs many ire pions christians who, but for the reform, vould have walked in the way which ineviably leads to Intemperance'; and would low be leading the miserable life* of* Irunkard, or in the grave with the awfnl surse resting upon them that no drunkard ihall inherit the kingdom of God. Such ejections should oheer the friends of this lause. Let them not be discouraged. It s a good work in whioh you are engaged, t has been successfully proeecutjd thus ar, and is bound finally to triumph.' W. A minister of the Kirk of Scotland mce discovered his wife asleep in the midst if his homily on the Sabbath. So pausing n the steady, and possibly somewhat molotonoue flow of his0 own oraotory,.~he iroke forth with this-personal address, harp and clear, bnt very deliberate $? 'Susan!'"' Susan opened her eyes and ears n a twinkling, as did all other dreamers whether asleep or awake. "Susan, I did1a marry ye for your wealth, sin' ye hae'd ione! And Ididna marry ye for your beauy j that the hoi congregation can see. And f ye have no grace, I have made but a sair argaiu !" Susan's slumbers were effeotnlly broken up for that day. ?. v ? Smoke-Consuming Locomotive.?The Superintendent of the workshops of the 'ennsylvania Railroad at Altoona; has inroduced an improvement in one of the rcomotives of that road, whioh consume ie smoke. So that instead of the vast olnme of smoke which the ordinary locolotive belches forth at every revolution, little steam onlv is seen escaDine from lis invention. In consuming the smoke, great saving of fuel is effected. It made le run from Altoona?a distance of 117 tiles?upon twenty-five bushels of coal, laintaining a high rate of speed all the me, and evincing the possession of extrardinary power. jf Poetey Improved.?The following from le of the old British poets, is the vfcry isence of fancy. It was addressed to a lady pon whose bosom a flake of snow melted : The envious snow came down in haste, ' To prove the breast leas fair, Bat grieved to see itself surpassed, >r And melts into a tear. 'Pshaw!' says an exchange, 'we can beat at any day. Look here: Down her white bosom rolled the tear, (We know it hadn't oughter;) Until at last?at last?oh dear! Her shirt was wet a3 water. & 'X?$?WMan's Account with Woman.?Look ire; you most allow that woman ought, much as in her lies, to make this world paradise, seeing that she lost us the origi* il garden. We talk as philosophers ; and hen all is said about what wo owe to omaD, you must allow that we have a ringing balance against her. There's that ;tlo matter of the apple still to be settled r.?Douglas Jerrold. A Love Story in Brief.?In the auisiana low lands lived lovely Lucy eslie. Levi Larkins loved Lucy lavishly, ucy loved Levi largely likewise. Levi ssoed Lucy. Lunkins, lending louder ster to the land, and likewise causing rely pleasure to the hearts of Levi and ncy Larkina. ' . :y., ?-.-iiTtr.