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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South j $2 pee annum n, advance. VOL.6. . YORKVILLE, S. C.,THURSDAY, MARCH 1, I860. ISTO. 9. 3ln@rtgmalloiitancf. WRITTEN FOR THE TORKVILLK ENQl'IRER. "qttb " O JL JCjl JCV? BY MRS. MARY A. DEMSON. CHAPTER XXXIV. PICKED UP. 'There's a man knocking about here, cap-, tain.' 'What?what do you mean?' 'I just saw him myself, not three yards from the sloop. Shall I lower the boat ?' j 'What a question ! down with her. On ( what side did you spy him ? Here, Amos; i put off with Davis here?a man in the wa-! ter; dead or alive, bring him up !' 'Aye, aye, sir?on the weather bow sir; i now, Amos! steady. There we are.' 'Take a flask of rum,' said the captain, as ^ he handed the lantern over. 'Can you see ?' 'Aye, aye, a dozen rod, put to now, Amos; keep a sharp look out?its water a-, nn^ rpotor holntT thorp's the fpller. ! nearer than I thought. I swain to goose, j I believe he's alive.' 'No he haint; a fellow as bobs that way's: a gone sucker?there's something there ' keeps hira up- Pull steady now; here he ' is?dead as a doornail, I guess.' 'Pull him in carefully.' 'Can't?you'll have to help He's clutch-' ing them oars awfully. That's a death gripe.'! May be so, may be not. Why he's a young chap, I swam to goose, if he aiu't. ! Here, you take this lantern and the jug?\ I'll soon unloose that hold; jest balance: the boat will ye ? He don't sense anything,! I guess; but, blame me, if he aint alive.? There, that gripe is unfastened. Vou set farther that way while I haul him in, then; put some of the spirits down his throat in a giffy. Poor fellow ! he's one of the nice ones ; look at his broadcloth !?out alone I spose, and unused to a buat. Now tend to the sperits and we'll put him 'board of the sloop, sweetly.' 'Thug, thug.' The heavy strokes of the oar told; and in a few moments the rescued man lay in the captain's berth, gaping with newly recovered life. : 'He's a young, handsome chap,'said the captain. 'So he is, I swam to goose,' was the elegant rejoinder of the sailor, called Amos. 'Guess he came from New York,' said the captain. 'So do I. He's a scholar-ehap?I know by the look of his head and hands. I, shouldn't wonder if he's out of some college, and been spreeing it. Hush ! he's a speaking.' 'Oh ! Mr. Carlisle, for God's sake, don't leave me to perish.' murmured the young man. 'He's a little out, or else somebody's been playing foul,' whispered the captain. Then he added aloud? 'Young chap, your'e safe enough; picked up by the sloop N'ancy, bound for Schenectady ; what's your orders V Marshall looked up, faintly suiiled, and closed his eyes again. 'I say young man, you'll tell us who you are, after we've saved you,' said the captain bluntly. 'My mother ! my mother ! For the sake of my mother, Mr Carlisle,' cried Marshall, springing forward and clutching at something his fevered imagination beheld. 'I swam to goose, capting, if that chap ain't out of his head,' said Amos. 'Yes; we've got a sick man on our hands Well, we shall be in Schenectady by six in the morning if the wind holds fair, and wc can put him right into the hospital; his good clothes '11 be a recommendation, if nothing else.' 'Sarch his pockets, capt'n.' The captain acting on this advice, turned the young man's pockets inside out? his wet clothes hud been previously stripped off?and found therein a purse with twenty five dollars, a gold pencil-case, and that j was all 'Tweoty-fivc dollars, captain, will pay for good lodgins, and may be he'll be better soon, and tell who he is.' He was not better soon, however. All night he lay tossing arid groaning, anon shrieking for mercy, then muttering about. the darkness, the cold waters, his mother, his home; and sometimes from his feverish lips went up a wild prayer commending his; soul to God's mercy. Came the gray morning, and still there was no sign of intelligence in the hand- j some face of the stranger; still he tossed, sighed, moaned and muttered, but did not rave; and by the time lie was located in one of the hospital wards he was fjuiet, though a ragiog fever purpled his face.? For seven days he was utterly unconscious of all that passed around him ; on the eight!) a feeble intelligence returned. The physi eians were unremitting in their attentions, and hailed with joy the first ray of reason, although they would not allow him to utter a word. On the secoud day, after a long, refreshing sleep, Marshall opened his eyes, and took in at a glance, his situation and its surFWhlv nnenine the thin cur * UUUUlll^O. * ^ - ? (-J tain of liis bed, his eye roved through the lontr room, lighted now by the first beams of the morning. He could see the rows of beds; here and there a pale, distorted face; here and there the form of a woman moving cautiously and quietly. Gradually,; his mind took in the features of this, to him, uuusual scene. j 'I am in a hospital,' he thought, letting fall the curtain?that is strange. In what city or town can L be'! I was picked up. I am certainly in the land of the livin", though by the look of my hand and by my weakness, I have had a hard struggle for ir. I remember nothing since I caught the oars ?all was horrid darkness. 1 hear the terrible sound of the waters roar Hut, my mother, my father, Media! Ho they know '{ Perhaps they think me dead. Oh! agonizing thoughts.' , 'Ah ! dear, you are better this morning.' A kind womanly face it was, that bent over him, brightened with a cheerful smile. 'Yes, thank you ; but tell me where I am, please ?' 'You are in the hospital, my dear.' 'I know; but in what place?' 'In Schenectady ; you were brought here on board a sloop, a week ago.' 'Good heavens ! and did T say nothing ? Did I give no name?no clue to my home?' 'You must be very quiet and calm, dear,' said the woman, soothingly. 'No you have not sensed anything since the first. It will all come right?don't get excited, dear; don't get excited,' and she moved a little yellow hand rapidly back and forth, as if she were soothing some imaginary pertubation. 'But, my dear madam, they think me drowned, dead ; do send for the doctor, please, or some one. Only send quick, for I am in a terrible state of anxiety.? Oh ! what must they think ?' The doctor stood by the bedside a moment after. 'Will you write a line for me, immediately, sir?' asked Marshall. 'Certainly?am very glad to see you so rational again. But be careful how yon yield to your feelings, a fever can be easily called back.' 'I will be careful sir?only do write to my father; Mr. Lawrence Hamilton, 200 street, New York. Oh ! sir, they know not I am alive. Tt distresses me to think how they may suffer.' 'They shall hear immediately,' said the doctor?'their suspense must be truly deplorable.' As he turned away, the nurse took his place. 'Have you been with me all the time, since I was brought here?' he asked. 'Yes, dear, all the time somewhere near you,' she replied. 'And did you?did T?rave much ? Did I talk as if I had received any personal injury ??implicate any one. T mean?in? in?' 'Dear no,' said the nurse, 'you've been too sick to rave, although sometimes you've nllfnrl ham? canl'iklo !!! /? at ttaiir mntknr IUIIYVU *vij ?;uoiuiv nnv,j ui jvua muwuvi. Hut really now, dear, is it true that they think yv)ur are dead and pone ? 0 1 it must be very sad for them Poor things ! poor things!' 'Dou't speak of it,' murmured Marshall, his lips working. 'Oh ! if it should kill mother!' 'But they'll know soon dear; and only think of the joy ! Why it will be like receiving you back from the very grave ; you will be like the son of the widow of Xain to 'urn. Well, I should like to stand by and see it all. Vou must make haste and get well so as to bear it like a man.' Other duties now called the good, simplehearted creature away, and in a very few moments the doctor announced that the letter was written and sent, so Marshall strove to pass the intervening time as calmly as he could. CHAPTER XXXV. STAR RETURNS TO THE CITY. Left alone, after Media's sudden departure, Star wandered through the house, out on the grounds, and finally to the margin of the river, where she strained her sad, weeping eyes from point to point, almost expecting to sec the floating body of the man she loved. Men in boats were still at wuik, aw ay uu iu iiiu uimuuit, auaiuiuu^ for the body, and the sun poured it's red light lavishly overall the waters. With clasped hands and an aching heart, sighing ever and anon most bitterly, Star moved along the beaten path with weary steps, ever before her eyes the picture of that sorrowful family; ever in her ears the sound she had heard iu her dreams? the last gurgling cry of a perishing man as the billows weut over him. Around, above her, even beneath her feet, there was the murmurous music of summer-life. Hirds and bees, and gaudy-coated insects, fluttered over and within their leafy homes ; gladness and peace were written wherever she turned her eyes?till they met the figure of Mr. Carlisle. 80 suddenly he confronted her, at the turning of the path, that she stood startled and undetermined for a moment ; then she essayed to pass him without exchanging words?for there was a bitter, mocking smile on his lip?but lie prevented her, simply by turning and walking by her side. -I regret that our search was useless,' he said at last; and the words were so devoid of feeling, that Star felt her heart leap indignantly. * 1 >0 i/nit regret it, Mr. Carlisle?' she asked, a strangely solemn emphasis in her voice. Why ! to be sure I do. lie was a passably good and interesting young fellow ; but lie should have learned to swim; no young niau ought to handle an oar who cannot save himself in case of an accident.' <( >! Mr. Carlisle; you are more heartless than 1 thought you,' cried Star, chokingly, hurrying forward. ?Don't mcutiuu it again, if you please?your coldness frightens me. O ! Mr. Carlisle?I think?heaven forgive me if 1 wrung you?I think you might have saved him !' There was a singular noise as of the minding together of teeth. Star turned her head for a moment, but the face beside her was like stone. 'Self-preservation, Miss Star, is the first law of nature.' was his rcrilv. 'The boat ' I t/ capsized?it was dark?there was a mile ami a half of hard swimming before me?I was encumbered with clothes?he would have been a dead height, fastened on me, and carried me to the bottom, perhaps. At any rate, with such an encumbrance, I could have saved neither him nor myself. l?e just, if not generous, even if I do not wail and cry like a child.' There was nothing more said between them. Star was crying, silently, her face averted; for the scene was presented so vividly by his wurds, that it made her poor heart ache worse than ever. At the door; they parted. Mr. Carlisle looked after her regretfully, then hurried away. All sport was at an end. Dora had not yet left her room ; and the nurse and her little charge were the only cheerful beings, about the house. At Star's entrance, how-, ever, the former put on a doleful countenance, and began to ask such questions, that Star was glad to escape again to the solitude of her own room. At length, Dora sent for her ; and during\ the rest of the day her mind was somewhat' diverted by attending to the wants of that capricious lady. Towards evening, Mark returned. They ! were all calm, he said, at his brothers; j calmer than he had dared hope to leave! them. Mary had not regained her strength ; j the terrible news had quite prostrated her,! but she was quiet?he feared almost too; much so; it hardly seemed natural. Media, he further added, had sent word I for Star to come to them if she preferred ;iti was a house of mourning, but her mother's j illness had thrown more care upon her than she could well sustain alone. '(), if I might but go!' cried Star, springing up; 'I can perhaps do them some good.' 'And leave me alone, when I need you as much as they do!' cried Dora, pettishly.: 'lam sure, that would be very selfish in: you.' _ > i 'If you think I must stay, of course T j ! will,' said Star, meekly. But Media has the greatest claim on iher,' said Mark. 'I know she feels lonely !and grieved, and needs some one to sympa-j : thize with her, as perhaps only Star could. The sorrow has not come so near our hearts; jit has not touched our household Yon must not be selfish, Dora.' Still Dora expostulated and fretted, and {cried like a child; nor until some mysterijous word had been whispered into her ear, i did she give her consent. It was not long before Star found herself, | in the cars, under the charge of Mr. Car-' i lisle. That gentleman instituted himself{ j her protector, being called to go in the: j same train; aud his attentions were both ! dignified and delicate. Star was, however, ! wrapped in her own sorrow, and speculations upon the great change she should find I in the home that had seemed so like heaven. ' It was fjuite dark when the journey was ended. Mr. Carlisle stood upon the step I of the door until Bilba came, holding a j lamp, and .shading her swollen eyes, iler | grief broke forth so loudly at sight of Star. | that Mr. Carlisle's adieu was hardly heard ; iand Star, with atrembliog frame, entered | the house. '0, Bogus! it's awful here, isn't it?' she whispered, as Fed met her in the room, I leading to the family apartment. Yes, indeed, it is. It's much worse than i if we had a dead body in the house,' whispered her brother. 'Then there would jseein to be more reason for our grief; hut' , nobody her<?nothing of death but his shadow ! (), it is terrible ! See here, Star, be as brave as you can, won't you ? <)!?!. that's not being brave!' Poor Star had fallen on his shoulder ati'J buried her face in his bosoiu, sobbing like i a child. 'I know. Bogus; but, Oh ! Ican't hcln it. Let me cry for a minute. There; now I j trill try to he brave.' And she wiped her .eyes again and again, but still the tears i would come. I 'Hark ! I think that is Media ; yes, here jshe comes?poor girl." j Star sprang from her seat. Media startled forward from the dour where she stood. i There was a silent embrace; nothing was I said for many moments?only tears fell like i showers. 'How good of you. to come,' said Media, I shortly after, holding back her sobs, j They went, hand and hand, into the desolate room. Mr. Hamilton set motionless . l 1. l . l 11 i* in ino large easy cnair, iii.n naiiuKereiiiei thrown over his face, his hands tightly locked and raised, somewhat as if he were in jprayer. Tiney sat in her little rocking chair, mournfully silent. The beautiful j ; babe slept with a smile on its innocent lips, i '0 ! what, a contrast between that fulllighted room?happy singing voices, violin, jand flute, joyous laughter, which Star had jseen first?and the heart-rending now ! As Star entered, Mr. Hamilton moved the handkerchief from his face, held one1 hand out with a smile that was more touchjing than tears, simply saying, 'we arc glad 'to see you, Star.' Mrs. Hamilton also sent for her, and when she had came to the bedI 1 side took her hand, pressed it silently, and with grieving lips, whispered?'you have j enrae to a sorrowful house, my child !' Yes, it was a sorrowful house. Hay alitor day the shadow seemed to fall with ten! fold darkness. The first sharp stroke of any , {calamity paralyses. Gradually, the reality! [forces itself upon us, first with a creeping land suiartingof the nerves, then with a sen-, jsatiun of weariness in brain and beart, unj til all the faculties awakened, the awful consciousness of what we have lost, enters iinto every particle of being; and the rush I of sorrow that succeeds it, is a thousand times more poignant than when the blow first fell. ( !!APTKIl XXXVI. .iovkui. x t:\vs. It was the third day after the sabbath.; jXone of the family had yet left the house,' 'on account of the continued prostration of tlu: wife and mother. This day she sce:n-i ied better, and had ventured to undertake' some trilling household duty Hut, Oh!; jhow pale and wan her sweet face looked.' They were sitting, sowing together, Me-' 'din ami Star, when Tiney who had been i slowly coming toward them, exclaimed ( >li!; ; sister, must we put on those long black veils, j inow dear Marshall is in heaven ' . ... i Ouri'l, Tiney,' said her sister, turning' aside for a moment. Then after a little pause, she added: j 'Yes ! we must dress in black. T thought * m?n it mietATll kill tt?A 1 % ULIUU lb YtaSib 1UU11CU VU'HWUJj www tu^Li had never lost any friend, and I did not dream how distastcly colors would seem in such a case.' <1 can't bear to pivc him up yet,' said Star. 'What if we could see him walkinp i in now !' she added, with moistened eyes. 'Suppose he had been saved in some way ?' Media shook her head. 'We should have heard,' she said softly. There was a bustle at the entrance. In come Dora, her face unnaturally elongated, her eyes reddened with excessive weepinp. 'My dears, how are you?' she asked, in a mournful voice.' 'I've tboupht of you so often since that unfortunate visit. I'm sure, I never suffered so much in my life before?never. I've been so sick, I couldn't come to you, as I wanted to, dear knows!' n a\ _1 ,1 . I - A ' rrom mem sne ran into me nexi room, iu condole with Mary; and when she came out, real tears hung On her lashes. 'Well, I'm sure I'll do anything I can for you,' she said, again addressing Media. 'You will go into mourning, I suppose ?' Media signified yes, by a nod. 'Well then, you don't feel likedoingsuch things, of course, and I'm a good shopper, let me make your purchases. I really need something of the kind to enliven me a little?not that it is very cheerful business either,' she added, noticing the incongruity of her speech. 'I mean, you know, I like exercise.' We shall be very much obliged, I'm sure,' said Media faintly. .'Of course, you'll want Alpacca, with crape-trimming; you'll want crape bonnet, too, with whole-length veils. Capes, too, for your mother and yourself; half crape trimming?it looks so nice. Gloves and rib bons?let me see?Oh ! black pins, jet catches, jet brooches; yes, T think I have all,' she added, noting each purchase on her tablets. 'Now, for little Tincy. Of course you want something soothing, but not deep black. Say a little black and white check silk; a straw bonnet; white ruche and white ribbon ; black gloves and gaiters, of course. "Why Tiney, child, how you arc sobbing ! I did'nt mean to hurt; your feelings.' An arm was hcid mutely forth, and in! the next moment the child's streaming eyes j were hidden in Media's lap, and Media's! tears fell thickly on her golden locks. 'Media!' Her father stood on the threshold, an open letter in his hand. How strangely he looked! There was wildncss in his face, i bewilderment and deep, strong joy. 'Media ! A glass of?water.' Away flew Media, frightened at this ro-j (juest, and the growing paleness of her fath-: er's face, while he almost tottered to a chair, j gasping as be sat down. The water was brought, the strong man revived, and his first words were, 'Hod be forever blessed, my children,! your brother is not dead !' 'Not dead!' cried Media, in tones that, were singularly low and piercing. 'Father! father! not dead,' and she grasped his' hands convulsively. 'Not dead ! cried Dora?hands spread and eyes staring?'mercy ! I shall faint. <), so sudden, so strange, so overwhelm1 n i r Star alone, after one great rush of blood to her heart, which seemed to stop its very pulses, stood with shining eyes and crimsoning checks, saying softly to herself, while she clasped and unclasped her hands,; I felt it.' 'Hut what docs it mean ? Who says so, j father ? (>h ! it's too good news ! I can ' hardly bear it,' and Media sank sobbing in ' her father's arms. A shrill, clear voice sounded near: 'God be praised !' Little Tincy bad run at the first cxcla-! mation of her father, to tell the good news! to Mary. Now, here she was upon them ; i white, whiter than ever; her eyes glisten-; ing, her lips parted; a wild incredulity making her face almost painful to witness. | Soon she lay, helpless as a little child, up-! on her husband's breast. 'For pity's sake do let's have light now ; I here, Hilba, bring ycur great strong arms j here, and throw open every shutter, cried; Dora, laughing a litile hysterically. Mr.' Marshall is found, alive if not well; so! help make us look cheerful.' The girl stood like one demented; her! palms outspread ; her mouth wide open, and the large eyes, tl at were red every day, with weeping (lor she had been tenderly at-! taohed to the young man'.) almost springing from their sockets. '1 say, give us some light 1' persisted Dora, laughing and crying. 'Do vou mean the shutters?' said BilbaJ * 7 1 stupidly; looking from one to the other, slow to comprehend this singular mixture of joy and grief. 'Oh ! Hilba, you must laugh, now ; bub, Marshall isn't drownnd after all,' cried Ti-j ncy. 'lie was picked up, and he is in Schenectady alive, but not ijuifc well yet?i papa read us the letter.' ?()?h! MissTitiey?is it true news??: ()?h ! Mr. Hamilton?Oh! Mistress?is it. true? Then it's heaven here again, thank! God ! It's heaven here again, where we! was all so dark and sorrowful!' Saying which, a copious shower of tears succeeded, and the rest of the shutters were opened,) while she mopped her eyes vigorously with ; her apron. How glad the sun beams seemed to gcti back again ! They came nestling in theiri old places, smiling up at the pictures that looked freshly painted, after the sombre-1 noss had passed from their tinting ; smiling! . ,1... tw.,1 ..,.t il.nn, i M I I < ' III! JHJi'lU IVIItWj J IHWUO I 11 v- I ) curling up on the Itungcs; <^lidin^ along, the walls; every one of them seemed to say,! 'the dead is alive again.' Hut come, mother! Media ! I must he j off and sec my boy!' exclaimed Lawrence, | lifting his wife and smiling in her face.?j Only think, Mary, we shall have him here! tonight, or tomorrow, (Jod-willing?only thiuk of it ! Ought we not to be the most tkaukful beings iu the universe 'And Star, here, is as glad as any of us,' said Media, 'only she hasn't spoken a tl word.' fi 'Joy is too deep for words sometimes,' p said Lawrence, smiling in Star's blushing b face. n The house was now in a great bustle.? h There was no more sighing?only absent ri reveries quickly broken?laughter, free as tl the bird's carol, checked sometimes in the s< outpouring, but resumed again. No more ti slow steps, measured by grief; no shudder- si ings as the familiar surroundings brought b the dear lost face so vividly before them, h They trembled sometimes at their own rap- \tures. As for Dora, she engaged a carriage and went driving round the city, telling all c her friends. Cheeking her coachman as d she saw a familiar form, she beckoned, and t! Mr. Carlisle came hurrying up to the car- fi riage. ii 'Your face is a chapter of good news,' c he said. 1 'A chapter! I'm a whole book-full.? t; Who do you think has come to life, Mr. c Carlisle ?' t 'Ah !'?he started guiltily?'what?who > ?what do you mean ?' t 'I mean that poor Marshall?my hus- li band's nephew?why ! I won't tell you Mr. Carlisle, you're absolutely ghastly.' y '()! the de?; beg your pardon Mrs. c Hamilton. T?I anticipate?so he was not p drowned, eh ! after all. Well, that is devil- 1: ish good?I beg your pardon, Mrs. ITamil- i ton. That's goodjnews?very bad?infer- i nal!?ah?will you excuse me ? A friend a is signalling.' t Dora told the coachman to drive on. 'How strangely he acted !' she murmur- I ed. 'I begin to suspect now. Oh ! no, [ it is too horrible. Hut how he changed color! I never saw a face so blanched.? He's almost flying down the street, too ; and I am sure there's nobody with him.' j That afternoon, Mr. Carlisle engaged aj passage in a European steamer that would j; sail on the morrow. nrr t timwn vvvirTT i mv aaav u. THE DEAD ALIVE AND A DOUltLE WEDDING. Media was restless. She took six stitch 1 cs in her work, and then six steps to the f window. Her mother sat not far off with 1 a color in her lip; Star, quite pale, and a apparently very busy with thought, was the t only quiet person in the room. Tiney was r dancing in and out of the shop; the baby f was finding his way round, by the chairs, t. <1 can't sit still, mother?its no use to t try,' said Media, noticing her mother's jt smile. It 'I i wants two hours of the time yet,' said j the latter. j<: 'I know it?what can I do? I'll set the! I table with the very best in the house ;|a it will look so cheerful.' And away shell hurried to consult with Hilba. jl The lounge had been furnished with pil- j 1 lows and a coverlet; flowers stood on a stand . 1 near by; the muslin curtains waved slowly c in and out with the soft breeze ; the room j i bore its old impress again. Wide open I stood the piano-forte, with music spread up- j e on its front, while flutes and other instru-'a ments were grouped around. j \ Six sounded the clock, and now all was;I expectation. Mary had, in spite of every :v precaution, grown nervous and pale again. Star shyly seated herself in a corner; Me-i i dia took her station at the window. Then!! came the joyful cry?the 'carriage 1 he has ! r conic. Oh ! dear Marshall; so pale?but t we'll soon nurse him up, won't we, moth- I er ?' Media turned to Mary, tears raining t down her cheeks. i s Of that eventful moment, what shall I t write? All striving to be calm, yet nil 11 excitement. The dear invalid, pale, yet A the most sclf-posscsed among them, lying!a ou the couch prepared for him; mother n and sisters kneeling and bending over him ;: p Star still shrinking into the back-ground, j v 'I must kiss all,' murmured Marshall, jv faintly. 'Where is Star ? I saw her when I, o came in.' id Star, blushing painfully, comes insight id 'You will let uic kiss you, won't you?' , h He held her hand as she bent her pretty t face, and as the kiss touched her pureiu cheek, there was a pressure that set the; k pulses to swift throbbing. i ii Dora and Mark came in that evening, and remained till the following day. Dora P prophesying all sorts of agreeable things. ;v 'And now I'm to have Star again, I sup-A pose,' said Dora, as they were about to re- * turn to 'Itoscbank.' u Star looked up half frightened. jv She wou't be troubled by the millionaire!1 any more,' said Mark ; 'he has gone to Eu- 11 rope to stay a year. Rather a sudden freak r of his.' c Marshall shivered from head to foot.? ' He had not breathed a word of his suspic- is; ion, suspicions more than confirmed in his 1 n own mind. u 'We want Star here,'said Mr. Ilauiilton quietly. ja Marshall turned a grateful glance towards h his father. Dora frowned. a 'I have the best right to her,' she said. t( 'I don't allow that,' Mr. Hamilton retur- ri ned, smilingly ; 'do you Marshall ?' h . i.. 'No indeed,' replied the young man,!" glancing lovingly to where the pretty mai-i' den sat in a sweet confusion. ~ Dora looked from one to the other, when j 1 suddenly, a light dashed into her mind. ~ 'Well 1 you've been mightily secret about n it,'she said, pouting. i< A bout what?' asked Lawrence. 'Why the wedding, if that's to be it; you i might have let a body know.' <)! ha ! ha !' cried Lawrence, while Star j looked about for some place of retreat to'a hide the burning of her cheeks ; 'why 1 ex-jtl pect we're to have two of them?ain't wejii puss ?' ; e This was to Media, and it was her turu to change color. j a ?lf?you say so, father,' she had the n courage to reply, which brought out anoth-lfi er burst of mcrtimcut. I ft 'Of course, 1 say so, pet; or aha/I when | a I'm properly consulted.' ili The time for the weddings came, and i icre were two of them. On his twenty rat year, Mr. Hamilton took Fred into i artnership with him, and Mark, having ecome rich upon speculation, had the maganimity to present Star with a deed of < er father's farm, on the day of her mar- : iage; so that the two young couple went I acre on their wedding tour. Marshall was a much enchanted with the beautiful counry, that lie declared himself in favor of; sttling there; and ultimately, his father! ought a splendid farm near by and carried ! is family to the west, including, of course, i 'rcdcric and his young wife. The rich Cogshclls became so reduced in j onsequcnce of a heavy failure, that the: augbters, brought up in elegance though hey were, were forced to earn their liveli ood by the most humble employment, and t is to be hoped that so wholesome a disipline was not wholly lost upon them.? 'hough Mr. Oogshell Dover asked assisance from Bogus; yet hearing that his utile was in destitute circumstances, Frederic endercd him a small tract of land in the* Vest, which was thankfully accepted, hough bitter self-accusation, had made lim an unhappy man. Mr. Carlisle remained abroad for many cars, and when he returned, brought a lashing young wife from Paris, who led a ;ay life, and it was said, ruled her hus-; land. Pora Hamilton became very intinate with her, and persuaded Mark to live n New York, where she still, though 'fat md forty,' creates a sensation, and keeps he world talking. Thus we take our leave of Star, the tome-light, the pride and blessing of her ioet husband. TIIE KNl). (Original papers. For flu1 Yorkville Enquirer. "RUBY*' ON GLOVES. [continued.] Yes, cut off the g, from glove, and you lave love. But when you cut the finders rom a glove?beware, Oh! young man. low you attempt it?you make a mitten : ind, however, pleasant it may be to receive he whole glove, and however much you nay regard it a? the evidence of the lady's avor, it is a cfiffcrcnt thing when you are he unhappy recipient of the dismembered runic. The phrase 'giving the mitten,' ook its rise after this wise. Clotilda, hirteenth daughter of Sigismund Bospharus, was importuned by Dontuwish Umacetit, a Rusian, who had by chance found lis way to her father's kingdom, and on iccourit of some valorous deeds had been j [flighted, that he might claim her as his ady-love, and wear her colors, and gain J lcr hand. Xow I). was hard favored, laving had the lower part of his ears bitten iff by the frost, which had also conferred ipon him a most curious expression of lis nose. His eyes were crossed in differmt directions, while a.sabre-scar had made . hole in his check through which his teeth verc very visible ; and in those days, toothirushes were not in common use. These; 'arious disfigurements, of course, were not: -cry valuable adjuncts to his suit, and his; nanncrs were rough and coarse, having icon more accustomed to the society of udc men at arms in drinking booths, than o the more refined manners suitable to a ady's bower. But worse than this, than hese, than all, she loved the gentle niin-i trcl Guillaumc de Gantblanc. Now, Clo-i ilda feared to give him an abrupt refusal, j est she might enrage her father and pro oke him to send her to a nunnery to pine way and die, and commit Guillaumc to a uonkery or worse ; so she contrived an ex icdicnt, (as any other woman could and rould have done in like circumstances) I thereby she might free herself from her dious lover, and yet not incur her father's lisplcasurc. She gave the knight a golIcn snuff-box, telling him that it contained ier riding-glove, and when he brought her hat glove tilled with sand from the shores f the Jordan, she would marry him. The j night started off overjoyed, thinking that n a few mouths he might be the proud; ard of the loveliest lady in the land, lie lassed through many toils, dangers, anuj randerings, until he reached the shores of he sacred stream. Not waiting a moment; or repose, he rushed to the shore, scraped 1 ,p the sand, drew the box from his bosom rliere it had been carefully kept, opened he clasp, drew forth the glove, and?found j t a mitten. Overcome with chagrim and j age, he plunged into the waves, and his | orpse was carried to its proper place, the >ead Sea. Women have not changed much ince that day, and their artifices arc as lany and as ingenious as then, as many a jan has found to his cost. There, Oh! <urr t/rarifr iiii/rnnri/iif, be warned in time j nd let the warning- make you cautious, }st sometime after long and anxious loving, fter sunset rides and moonlight walks, affinil r.rn<onti?il litmi.tiiof< nf ... ' y ? arcst flowers; after hand-pressings and) cart-throbbinjjs, and after sweetest smiles nd softest whisperings, wlien you proudly nd gladly felicitate yourself upon having aincd the priceless boon of your lady's | ive, and rejoice in the possession of the reat treasure of your lady's heart. (Mi! be-; rare, lest when you 20 to kiss the glove, 1' ou find it the mitten. [Til ItK rONTINI'Kll.] <u III "* ANECDOTE OF GEN. JACKSON, f The North Carolina Advocate, published t Raleigh, in its issue of 1'lst. ult , gives be following anecdote of Genera! Jackson, i illustration of his extraordinary knowl-j dgc of human nature : 1 He is no .Jitil'/r of' Prair/iiih/.'?Here is characteristic anecdote of Gen. Jackson, ot before published, and conveying a use-1 ul hint to critics upon sermons. It wa- j ;ivcu to Gov I'll lis by President liuchan-, n, during his recent visit to North ('aroma, and we repeat it by memory as it was told by Gov. Kllis, in an address to the t students of Trinity <'olletrc at the late com-:a tnenccmcnt. jWhen President Jackson appointed Mr. It Buchanan Minister to Russia, the friends of a certain gentleman solicited for him an ;d ippuintmont as secretary of legation. Al-Ji though the qualifications of the gentleman jp were unquestionable, and his friends nu- s mcrous and influential, General Jackson pertinaciously refused to give him the appointment. And he explained his refusal to Mr Buelianau by saying, 'lie is no judge of preaching.' 'Mow is that?' asked Mr. Buchanan. 'Why.' said Jackson,'I' attended the Methodist church a year or: two ago, and heard a most able atjd elo-(c quent sermon by Pr. Purbin. It was the'I logic of the Gospel set on fire by the fervid i '1" zeal of devotion to Christ. The effect was ( very great upon the congregation All) were awed into silence and reverence, and j' I felt as though I stood before the awful ( majesty of the eternal (jod. As I passed / from the church this gentleman for whom ' the appointment is solicited, joined me and : broke upon the solemn feeling the sermon ' bad inspired, by saying, 'The preacher has 1 given us a very poor sermon ; nothing new i! in it, only mere declamation.' 'Sir,' added / the old (ieneral, 'that man is not fit for of-!1 fice, he is not to be trusted, because he is,' no judge of preaching.' And (ieneral Jackson did not appoint:' him to the Legation of Russia. Ilowhe;< was to infer disqualification for the office j for the want of just views of a sermon, the; President did nut explain. Rut the future; history of the man proved the instinctive! foresight of Jackson into character. Upon Mr. Ruchauun's return from Russia, lie! UUIIl'M UJIWU IIIU I I i ' 4 V. IJ I ?f IIUJv "UIMO, after the salutation, were, 'I told you that man was not to be trusted, because he was no jud^re of preaching, and sure enough he; has been unfaithful to the trusts reposed in; him.' And so it was; the gentleman had, i ll* become guilty of a breach of the principles; which are dear to a man of honor and in-: tcgrity. This incident gives us an interesting: glimpse of the peculiar character of General Jackson, and is quite suggestive to persons who make or hear criticisms on scr-j moos. From the Charleston Courier. WILHELMINA. A SABBATH FUNERAL. "Oh, what a shadow o'er the heart is Hung, When peals the requiem of the loved and young." ; One of our eity churches was, on Sunday morning last the scene of a sad, solemn ceremonial. The regular services concluded, an invitation was extended to the congregation to remain. A very large portion complied, many new comers poured in from other directions, and the church soon became filled to overflowing. All awaited in silent awe the arrival of a funeral pro- \, cession. * * * * * * * ! Meanwhile there was, not far distant, a house of mourning. Within in one of its' desolate chambers sat a pale, weeping toother, taking her last look upon the still form of the idol of her heart?"// "iify thmyhtrr ?wrapped in the embrace of death. And the fond father stood gazing with streaming ( eye upon his lost treasure. In this, their dark hour of crushing sorrow, how can they realize the startling truth'! "Wif.i.ik i* i>kai>!" was echoed in soft whispers among the youthful throng. * " Will!/', is ,(,,0/1" Alas I many of her former schoolmates and companions, who knew her only by this tender abbreviation, , will sigh, as they read this announcement,| and think of those joyous days of childhood when she mingled with thetu in their harmless pastimes. I, They will remember the modest, fragile i playmate, whose timid, shrinking nature withdrew her from the noise and bustle of I the thoughtless crowd, in earlier life, and iti her latter days made the <juiet, peaceful ;| atmosphere of hnnu her happiness and am-ji bition. Vet, Wn.f.iK, the gentle, amiable, ;< pure hearted, was always ready to join in s innocent merriment, and to contribute to I the enjoyment of others. * * 'i The burial service lias been read?'< ' Karth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to : dust"?those awful words have been spo 1 ken, and the benediction of the "Voice I from Heaven" upon "the dead who die inji the Lord," impressively chaunted by theM choir. '< V * * j. The Cemetery" hell "peals the requiem > of the loved and young," as the procession i enters the gates. The family burial place t has received another tenant alongside of a 1 recent infant grave from another branch of! I the same household. St "Wii.i.ii: is in IIkavk.n!" so whisper !' ed irony of the lookers on, as the last clod;' of earth was thrown over the sleeper. * !l " II ////? #s in h< it fin !" \\ hat a solace * to the bursting hearts of those parents, for whom all around sympathized! Gently ' arid tenderly they have watched over her 1 in sickness and health. With unwearying :l solicitude they guarded her steps. With:' pride and gratitude they have marked her,* tilial devotion; her interest in her studies ; ' her earnestness in improving her opportu- j' nities of mental cultivation; her respectful j1 consideration and regard for her iustruc-j f tors. They have done all that affection ' could suggest and duty prompt. She has' been a loving, devoted daughter. The as-! social ions connected with her whole life I have been pleasant and consoling. She*, now sits at the feet of a Heavenly Teacher, ? who will prepare her for admission where i she will he classed among the faithful chil- a dren ot light, who drink at the deep font)-!' tains ot celestial knowledge. A sufferer \ here, she is no longer a sufferer?a joyful, \ happy spirit, among the angels around the i throne of the everlasting. Head to the world, but alive unto God ; not lust?saved, redeemed, exalted, glorified. it There are some natures too pure and ; gentle for earth?too frail lor contact with i he storms of life?and the kind Father of 11 oftentimes takes them to dwell with Him ?where sorrow and temptation cannot ener. Such broken-hearted parents?was your leoply lamented?fondly cherished, buried ove. One who knew her well, feels it a irivilc?c to to pay this feeble tribute to her ainted memory. "She ilied to sin?she died to cares, But for a moment felt the rod; Oh! mourner?such, the Lord declares, Such are the children of our God " CLAUDE. WILL POWER. inc power oi me win over merely pnysi;al obstacles, causes us a succession of surjrises as we pass through life. There is :carcelya difficulty iteaDDOt surmount, short if those barriers placed between man and he infinite, and every day, as science and luman knowledge progress, these seem to re:ede, and man dives further into the recess )f mysteries once supposed to be hidden "orever from his gaze. Desires to know, ispirations for knowledge arc useless, without this propelling power. As well seat yourself in a car to which no locomotive is lttatched, and desire to find yourself at the ind of your journey. As well curl cosily into tne recesses of your easy-cbir, and wish to look upon the shrines of the old world. One who has just gone from the world, 3ne of America's greatest sons, has well exemplified in his life the idea we wish to convey. Dew indeed, like Prescott, have triumphed over obstacles thatseem insurmountable. Few from whom the gift of vision has been wrested, or to whom it has been denied, have lived to bless and instruct the world. Out of his darkness he has made light to illuminate other minds; and though his vision could not rest upon it, has written his name high upon the scroll of Fame among earth's noblest sons. And while we were thinking of him, with sorrow that his career was so suddenly cut short, we looked upon another, who though scarcely known to fame, has earned its laurels by his achievement; a man, blind from his birth, who is a profound scholar, a lucid and powerful thinker, cheerful, buoyant, hopeful under his great misfortune, and looking forward with the unnvn r\f conl tn o fnturo r\f fnll and worthy deed. His eloquence holds a large audieoce enchained, as with masterly skill he elucidates philosophical or scientific propositions, or more singularly still, speak of the descriptive history of nations and of countries he can never hope to see. And shut out thus from many of the keenest pleasures of life, dead to the world's beauty, to the loveliness of the human face, the glory of sunsets, and the grandeur of storms, unable to draw for his own use from the fountain of knowledge, clogged by the slavery of constant and utter dependence, the mind, the giant will of this man, all unfaltering, has not ceased to aid him onward to achievement which many another, untrammelled and unopposed, would long time have shrunk from. There is scarce a physical or a moral obstacle which may not be surmounted by perseverance, which is the fruit of powerful and well-directed will. Woman's Veneration.?If woman have one weakness more marked than man, it is toward veneration. They are born worshippers?makers of silver shrines in some divinity or other, which of course they always think fell strait down from heaven. The first step toward their falling in love with un oroinary mortal is generally to dross biui out with all manner of real or fancied superiority ; and having made him up, they worship nun. -Now. a truly great man, a man really grand and noble in art and intellect, has this advantage with women, that he is an idol ready made to hand; and so that very painstaking and ingenius sex have less labor in getting him up, and con be ready to worship him on shorter notice. In particular is this the case where a sacred profession and a moral supremacy are added to the intellectual. Just think of the career jf celebrated preachers and divines in all iges. Have they not stood like the image that "Nebuchadnezzar the King set up," and all womankind, coquettes and flirts not excepted, been ready to fall down and worship, even before the sound of the cornet, lute, harp, sackbut and so forth ! Is not the faithful 1'aula, with her beautiful face, prostrate in reverence before poor, old lean, latrgard, dying Sc. Jerome, in the most ;pleudid painting of the world, an emblem ind a sign of woman's eternal power of self-sacrifice to what she deems noblest in nan '! Does not old Richard Raxter tells as with delightful single heartedness, bow lis wife fell in love with him first, spite of lis long pale face, and how she confessed, lear soul, after many years of married life, hat she had found him less sour and bitter ban she had expected.' The fact is, woncn arc burthened with fealty, faith, revermce, more than they know what to do with, riiey stand like a hedge of sweet peas, browing out fluttering tendrilsevery where or something high and dry to climb up by, md when they find it, be it ever so rough n the bark, they catch upon it. And intanccs are not wanting of those who have urncd away from the flattery of admirers n prostrate themselves at the feet of a genline hero who never woo them except by leroic deeds and the rhetoric of a noble ife.? T/? .Mi u ishr's II (joiiuj. BsiT There is one redeeming trait about azy people, and that is, they arc always rood nuturcd. Show us a man who sleeps iuht hours of twelve, and we will show you in individual who will not swear, though iri omnibus should stand for an hour on that sore foot of his." The only folks vho lose their tempers and "take on," are r'ou smart, enterprising fellows, who deal n stocks and get up "corners" on stocks. Sin and 31 Kite v.?He that hath tasted lie bitterness of sin, will fear to commit it; tnd he that hath felt the sweetness of nier;y, will fear to offend it.?Chumock.