Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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f- IT f 7 ~ ^ T " * ' ' w *M* 5 k. -% " ?* aKl * - ^ " *W ' * / . v " . ' _ ** ?_ ? hi i ' ' ^ ' ' i Hit ' in in ' Unin- ii- -liri , ,, ,, -- ^ ' ^ " ' ^ I I I I ^eggg* "~" ^ ^ ^ ^ __ SS=S=X= '"^ BE SSS ==~ 1 .!! ^ . J . ' 1 J, , ? jlewis m. qsist, Proprietor. | An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |*s febajeuk ih advajtce =~ . ? . ' == ... i VOL. 6. YOEKVILLE, S. C-, THLBSDAY, MAY IP, I860. NO. 19Z %n Original jitorji. . WRITTEN FOR THE YORK VILLI INQUIRER, NELLIE; OR, THE FATAL 6IFT. BY WILLIE LIGHTHEART. CHAPTER IX. 'Does Joe generally remain at the store as late as this ?' asked Charles, consulting his watch and finding it to be nine o'clock. 'Very often,' said Nellie going to the window and looking out. 'Youmust feel very lonely here, Nellie,' said Charles, then, after a protracted silence, daring which his eyes were fixed upon his sister, he said: <1 have to leave you here alone, Nellie, bat, as there is no telliDg when Joe will be in, I most return to the hotel. I will come to-morrow, and spend a part of the day with yon.' 'But you will not leave until you have taken supper, Charles.' 'Never mind about that, dear. I am not used to such late suppers, you know. Tell me good night, and kiss me,' said Charles, putting his arms around her neck. 'Why, Nellie! what makes you weep so ?' 'Nothing much,' said Nellie, lifting her head from his shoulder. 'You know, Charlie, I was always called the baby, at home j'and the poor, sorrowing one looked up and endeavored to smile. Yes, dear; but your cheeks were rosy and your eyes ever so bright when you were at home. Where,has the brightness gone, Nellie? and what has become of the roses.' Nellie sighed but made no other reply. 'Well,' said Charles, playfully, 'on my way to the hotel I shall stop in at the store and send Joe to you.' Nellie started. 'There is no actual necessity for him to work himself to death in this way. I shall speak to Mr. Wilkinson about the matter at the first opportunity. Good night, Nellie.' 'Charlie/ said Nellie, as her brother stood upon the threshold of the door, 'don't stop at the store, please.' 'Well, Ishall not do so then, if you do not wish it; but, why not ?' 'Joe does not like to be disturbed while attending to his employer's business. He will come home as soon as he can?you can see him to-morrow.' 'Well, good night,' said Charles, with an uneasy and troubled expression of countenance. 'God bless you, Charlie !?good night/ and Nellie turned and walked sadly into the house, while her brother walked thoughtfully towards the hotel. 'What can it be that occasions Nellie so muoh sorrow?' said Charles as he slowly wended his way towards the hotel; for it was utterly impossible to look upon the sad features of his once happy sister without being impressed with the conviction that some secret sorrow was gnawing at her heart, and throwing the dark shadow of its sable wings over her once sunny life. He walked slowly on. The night was a beautiful, moon-illumined one; and, feeling little if any inclination to retire, he crossed the street and entered the beautiful park at the western end of the city. The low, mysterious whisperings of the night-wind as it meandered, like a rivulet, through its leafy channel, and sighed amidst the branches or toe oaas; toe bubbling, gusning fountain, in the centre of the park, throwing up its silver waters into the moonlit air, as the true heart warbleth unceas ingly its sweet utterances into the loved one's ears until the heart drinks , in the blessedness of its own out-pourings; the : white glistening shell-walk, like the snowpath to heaven < Leaving the trace of the way we go But staining not; the Queen of the Night, 'with her bright ! parliament of stars,' walking her nightly . rounds over God's illimitable tracks of space j i the far-away howl of the watch-dog and the i measured tread of the sentinel, with his < bowed head and muffled form, gliding like a ghost, among the shadows, all these sug- i gested a train of thought to Charles, as they < ever do to the young, the loving and the < loved. . j He loved. To the noble hearted, the sun-crowned and the gifted it is terrible to love. He gazed heavenward; and upon the rough and chaotic surface of the moon, there shone out a name, which carried with it a sweetness like unto the flowers; a potency like unto the power of death. He bowed silently over the rippling basin of the fouutain, and, as the moonbeam came down upon it and made it like a star-mirror to his eyes, every circle grew beautiful as heaven because of the sweet face which looked up from within it and the smiles which flitted over its surface as beautiful as the dimples of the face he loved. Effie?gently, sweet Effie Sanders ! The wind whispered that name; the moon illumined it upon the skies; the waters encased it in liquid dimples, and his heart felt it like the presence of a longed-for guest. Reader, would you appreciate the pencilings of divinity upon nature's canvas ?? would you find beauty in the wilderness of thorns; waters upon parched deserts; flowers amid the everlasting snows of the Alps; songs like unto those which make heaven's courts a Paradise ? even in the darkness ? Then, love !?aye, love ? Curl your lips at the fountain-utterances of the poet; smile at the outpourings of the novelist, and laugh at the dream-tale of the gifted ; but, only love; only let an arm, which is whiter than Greenland snows, entwine itself around your neck; only let a lip, that is baptized with rose-colorings meet your own; only let an eye, which is brighter than stars, 'When only one is shining in the sky,' look, with its unutterable eloquence, into yours; only let two roselips part beside your ear, and 'I love you,' come from between pearly teeth, and heaven shall roll aside its curtains that the angelsj may be visible, and earth shall grow beautiful as the laud of Dreams. To those who thus love, all that is pure iu heaven and beautiful in earth, compresses itself into a focus?that focus is the name of her or him we love. Through that glass ?that rose-colored glass?we discern the summer?glow even upon the Iceland snows, and drink in the sweetness of Eden even upon a 'thirsty land, where no water is.' Not a Byronic love ; not a love like Aaron Burr's; not a love like that of Cleopatra and Mark Antony, which burns like the fire of hell around the spirit of the damned; but a love, like unto the light of moons and stars; making beautiful the object which it falls upon, and causing the eye to look heavenward in search of the causes of attraction. Thaa loving, earth grows beautiful as the visions of pillowed dreamers, and the heart grows as pure as the babe on its mother's bosom. Alas! few love thus !?few knows the self-annihilation, the soul-worship, and the heart-adoration of pure, God-given affection. Never mind !?even though the hand pass es across the eyes, in saying so?even tho' one half of the race have never felt the unspeakable emotions of faithful, pore, holy and unalterable love, the time will come, when it will be proven, by unanswerable credentials, that love?in my sense of the term?is the sweetest benediction that ever fell upon the human heart, and the dream of heaven, from which none are awakened. But, I am digressing, and must return to my story; which I shall soon tell. Charles walked leisurely through the park, musing on Effie Sanders, of home and Nellie ; until wearied with the walk, and chilled by the damp night air, he retraced his steps, and walked oat upon the street. Passing the large establishment of Wilkinson & Co. he noticed that its doors and windows were closed and barred ; and, glad at heart to think of Benson being with Nellie earlier than usual, he walked briskly towards the hotel. In the vioinity of the hotel stood one of those large, dazzling and magnificent edifices so prevalent in large cities, and fitted up for the express purpose of sending men to ruin and extending the dark catalogue of broken-hearts. As he was about passing this saloon, be was astounded to hear the name of Joe Benson spoken in a loud tone by some person from within, accompanied 1 1 J -1 i / 1 1 i 1? uy iouu snouts 01 laugnier, apparency irom a numerous company. Going to the door, and placing his ear to an aperture, he distinctly recognized the voice of Benson, in loud and boisterous declamation. 'This will never do!' said Charles, suddenly opening the door and entering the brilliantly illuminated saloon. To his utter astonishment, there stood Benson upon a chair, surrounded by some twenty or thirty men, making a wild, nonsensical display of oratory to the drunken company, who seemed to feel themselves quite amused and entertained. Benson started as Charles' eyes met his own, and suddenly breaking off in the midst of an unfinished sentence, he stepped to the floor and walked sheepishly to the back of the room. Charles forced his way through the crowd and followed Benson to his seat in the corner; and, placing his hand heavily upon his shoulder, said, in a suppressed tone of voice. 'Mr. Benson let us leave this place.' 'Ah !' said Benson, looking up and suddenly starting to his feet, as though he had just then recognized Charles', 'how do you do, old fellow !?when did you arrive ?? Come! let's take a horn.' 'Mr. Benson !' said Charles, reprovingly, 'I am surprised to see you here ! What attraction can you find at such a place or pleasure in such society ? Come !?you cannot really remain here/ 'Don't be in a hurry, old stump,' said Benson, breaking from the grasp of Charles and staggering towards the counter: 'I've ?0t money enough to pay my way and treat the whole crowd. Come up, boys!' And, so saying, Benson threw a bank-note on the counter and beckoned to the company. 'No, Mr. Benson !' said Charles, emphatically, as he took up the bank-note and pocketed it; 'you have drank enough; and, 30 far as these gentlemen are concerned, I am sure that they will excuse you.' 'Was that bank-note yours, sir ?' asked the bar-tender. 'No, sir,' said Charles. 'Does it belong to Joe Benson ?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Then, sir, I should be much obliged to you to mind your own business and not come interfering with mine,' said the bartender, angrily. 'You surely must be aware, sir,' said Charles, 'that Mr. Benson has taken enough liquor already. As a friend of his, I cannot stand here and see him make a common drunkard of himself.' 'Look here, young man !' said one of the company, stepping up to the counter, 'I aint going to stand by and let any such upstart talk that away about Joe.' 'Who are you, sir ?' asked Charles, as the warm blood mounted to his forehead. 'If you don't fork over that bank-note, I'll soon let you know who I am.' 'It's all right, Tom?he'll keep it safe for me,' said Benson, staggering away from tne counter. ?No, it ain't right though!' said the man addressed as Tom, 'you asked the company up to drink, and that young chap has no right to pocket your money?ha3 he, barkeeper ?' 'As a matter of course, he has not,' replied the person addressed. 'But he has,' said Benson, dropping into a seat. 'It's my money j and I say it's all right.' 'That's a nice way to back out of a treat!' said one of the men bitterly. 'I back out of a treat!' said Benson, staggering up to the counter. 'Barkeeper, give I us drinks for the crowd.' | 'Where's the money V i 'I'll pay for it in the morning.' i 'Maybe yon will, Joe; but I rather have the money now,' said the bar keeper.? 'Why don't you make that young fellow give you back your money ?' 'My oredit is quite good,' said Benson, looking up, with an expression of surprise. 'I know it,' said the bar-tender. 'Then why don't you let me have what I call for ?' asked Benson, angrily. 'Because you let that little fellow soare you out of what is justly yours.' 'Charlie,' said Benson, in a whisper, 'let ; me have the money. I'll go, after taking just one more drink.' i 'Will you really do-so?' asked Charles, i taking out his watch and finding it grow- j ing late. 'Are you sure that you will go i with me as soon as you drink this last i drink ?' i /T Za. } : J T> jl swear n, saiu jdousou. Charles glanced hastily around the room, then at the clock?he was undecided as to i how he should act, under the circumstances; ; but when he heard the drunken laugh, the i low, obscene jokes and the terrible oaths of < the company; when he looked at Benson's f pallid face, sunken eyes, quivering lips and trembling hand, and then thought of poor, ' watohing Nellie, all alone in the little log- < house, he handed the bill to Benson, say- 1 ing: 'If you must drink, do, for heaven sake, do so at once, and come with me from this hell upon earth.' 1 'Walk up, gentlemen,' said the bar-keep- 1 er, as Benson placed the bill upon the coun- ' ter, and bowed his head upon his folded arms. One after another came up, until a company of thirty men stood around the halfcircled counter, and drank in liquid death from the beautifully tinted glasses and goblets. 1 'You don't drink, Charlie?do you?' asked Benson, putting down his empty glass. 'No.' 'I wish I could say so, too' said Benson, pressing his hands to his temples and sighing. 'I am sick, Charlie?Oh, how sick !' 'Is it any wonder ?' said Charles; then taking Benson's arm, he said, coaxingly : 'Take up your change, Joe, aqd let us go at once. Come on.' What, right now ?' 'Yes, Joe; it is after twelve o'clock, and?' he continued in a lower tone of voice?'Nellie is all alone, you know.' 'But I cannot go home as I am,' said Benson. 'Well, a long walk will make you feel better, anyhow. Come, Joe; we really must go out of this place. Recollect that you even swore you would do so.' i 'Who??I did?' said Benson, leaning heavily against the counter. i 'To be sure you did,' said Charles in a tone of impatience and partial anger. 'Well, if I did swear it, I'll go.' 'That's right!' said Charles; and, so saying, the two walked as quietly as possible into the street. CHAPTER X. See that far away light at the foot of yon- ; der hill ? It comes from the window of the little log-house; but why is there a light burning there at this late hour ? Let us enter and see for ourselves. Near the fire-place, with her head bowed upon the table; and a shawl thrown over her shoulders, sits Nellie. Upon the hearth stands several plates, containing her husband's supper, which has been there many long hours. Benson had promised to come home earlier than usual; so she had prepared an unusually early meal for him; but poor Nellie and her brother had waited until nine o'clock, when, as the reader will remember, the latter left. When Charles left, Nellie felt too lonely and sad to eat; so she removed the supper from the table and placed it by the fire Alas! hour after hour went by, as she sat watching at the window for Benson, and : listening for the well known sound of his 1 foot-steps. She tried to read; tried to sew; tried to engage herself in various household duties, until wearied, disappointed and heart-sick, she threw herself into the near- ' est seat; and bowing her head upon the little work-table, wept as though her heait 1 would break. i The cathedral bell tolls two. It does not simply strike the hour?it tolls it, with dis- 1 mal, solemn tones. Nellie starts to her 1 feet and looks uneasily around the room 1 and shudders. Then she goes to the win- 1 dow, and putting her pale, care-worn face ' out into the cold, mocking moonlight, looks far down the street with an 'Oh, where can be be !' But there comes from out the deep shadows in the distance, two objects, which ' immediately arrest her attention. 'It must be Joe !?and somebody is with him too;' and as Nellie says this, she shrinks back from the window, and stands in trembling expectation and suspense beside the bolted 1 door. 'Heavens!' she exclaimed, as the outsiders neared the house, 'it is Joe ! and Charlie is with him !' and poor Nellie's cheek grew crimsoned with shame and mortification. In all her conversation with her brother she had not even hinted to him that Benson was addicted to drinking; in all of her letters home she had never once alluded to the mortifying fact; but ever spoke in the highest terms of his affection, kindness and love towards her, and unceasing en- , deavors to render her as happy and comfortable as possible "Alas the love of woman it is known To be a lovely, but a fearful thing." A knock at the door. 'Come in !' said Nellie, drawing aside the bolt, and trembling like a leaflet in the wind. i 'Why don't you come in, Joe?' said Charles, pushing open the door, and endeavoring to lead the half-crazed man into the house. ''Cause I won't replied Uenson, sullenly, i 'so it's no manner of use to ask.' 'Please come in, Joe!' said Nellie, with her loving, pleading voice. Nellie!' What, dear?' 'Come here.' 'Here I am, Joe/ said Nellie, placing her hand upon his shoulder. 'You want me to come in ?' 'Yes, dear/ 'Well, the fact is, I don't think such a feat practicable just now without considerable assistance, you observe/ 'Joe/ said Nellie, coaxingly, 'do, please oome in! Charlie and myself will help you.' 'Come along, Joe/ said Charles, impatiently. ?Wo don't intend to stand here all Dight to listen to your nonsense. Nellie, go in/ So saying, Charles gathered his irms nrrmnd UnTionn nnd him. hv main force, into the house. 'There, now !' i said Charles, 'sit down there awhile, until you feel better/ 'All right, old stump!?I'll take the ( jhair, and call the meeting to order, since ( you express a wish to thateffecc.' And thus saying, the poor inebriate dropped into a I ;hair, muttering some unintelligible nonsense about thesubjeot 'before the meeting.' < 'Nellie,' said Charles, observing his sister 1 weeping/ go in the other room and lie ] iown. I will sit up with Joe, or try to get 1 him asleep.' I 'I do not feel sleepy, Charlie.' i 'That's a fact," said Benson, taking a bottle from his pocket, and swaying his \ body to and fro; ' that's my candid opinion. [ move that the chair have a recess of three i minutes, during which he be allowed to take a drink.' i 'No, no, Joe !' said Nellie, rushing to i his side and seizing; his arm, 'now don t drink i my more!' 1 'That's a motion quite out of order, my I clear,' said Benson, endeavoring to release | his wrist from Nellie's firm grasp. I 'Benson,' said Charles, 'as I am a living man, you shall not drink any more*!' and, I is he thus said, he snatched the bottle from < his hands and shattered it upon the hearthstone. In a twinkling of an eye the liquid ( sent up its blue, hellish flames, and, before i her brother could rush forward to prevent 1 it, Nellie's light garments were in a blaze ind her slight form completely enveloped ! in flames. A shriek?a long, piercing agonizing i shriek, broke from the lips of Nellie, as the i 5re curled around her body and came in j contact with her delicate skin. Charles threw his arms around her; and throwing her upon the floor, covered her with the hearth-rug to smother the flames, while the terrified husband staggered hither and thither, like a madman, utterly unable to render aDy assistance whatever. The flames were finally subdued, but, alas ! poor Nellie was terribly burned; so much so, in fact, as to be scarcely recognizable by her almost broken-hearted brother. Gently, amid her moans and spasmodic twitches, he conveyed 4;he dear form to the bed; and, kneeling down beside her, broke out in the most lamentable wailings of grief: 'Nellie!?noor. roor Nellie! mv own dear I , r ?J sister! Oh my God ! has it come to this !' and bis whole frame shook under the influence of his terrible grief. 'What shall I do!' he suddenly exclaimed, starting to his feet. <1 cannot leave her; and yet she must have medical assistance;' and the distracted man, ran into the next room to arouse Benson. The wretched husband was standing stock still in the centre of the room as Charles entered. Not a muscle moved; even his eyes seemed fixed in death ; and "Like a sta.uc solid set, And moulded in colossal calm," he moved not?could not move?from beneath the terrible weight of the sudden woe which had come down upon his heart. 'Joe, what shall we do ?' said Charles. 'For heaven sake arouse yourself, man !' 'I am aroused!' said Benson, looking wildly around, fl am sober, Charles?quite sober now?ha, ha, ha !' Then steadily and slowly walking up to Charles, he continued, in a low hollow tone of voice, that startled him : 'You did it!' ll did it!' repeated Charles. 'No, Mr. Benson! I snatched the bottle from your hands for your good and poor Nellie's, too. But for God's sake, Joe, run down the 3treet and call in a physician at once!' 'Go yourself; I shall not Jeave Nellie? poor little Nellie!' and the eyes which had not known tears for many years, were now filled to overflowing with the tides of sorrow and grief, far too mighty for the tongue to tell or the pen describe. ****** 'Nellie.' The poor sufferer opened her eyes and looked up. 'Don't you know me, Nellie??poor, dear Nellie!' '.Toe!' 'Thank God ! she knows me.' said Ben- . ?on. 'Are you in much pain, dear ?' , 'Yes; but it will soon be over, Joe.' Don't say so, Nellie. Charlie has gone for a doctor; and maybe?Oh ! I know he will--do something to alleviate your pain.' . 'I am going to die, Joe.' said Nellie. i 'Poor thing! Don't say so, Nellie? , what will become of me when you die?'? Then burying 'his face in the pillow, he i groaned aloud and said. 'If you should ' die, Nellie, I shall nevor see you again, for 1 the terrible thought of having rendered your life so miserable and murdered you at last, will drive me to desperation, ruin and hell. Oh ! how I wish I could die for you!' 'When I am gone, Joe?and it will not i be very long now?'you must send little Lily home to mother, and?.' 'Nellie, if you can love such a wretch as I, do not talk so !' 1 llf I can love you, Joe!' said Nellie, while the tear3 gathered in her eyes and coursed their w ay down her scarred cheeks. 'Forgive me, Nellie! I know that you love me; but oh ! please don't talk so sadly.' 'But, Joe?/ Nellie paused and shrieked aloud in nain. 'My poor Nellie;' said Benson, bending over her, 'where hurts you darling ?' \ 'Here?oh ! so much, Joe.' And she placed her little burnt h&Dd upon her bossom, and moaned so pitifully. Then lifting up her beautiful blue eyes, she said, while her whole body twitched and quivered in torture. 'Father, help me! Oh! my father's God make me patient!' ' 'I shall go mad!' said Benson, turning away and pacing the room with long, quick and measured strides. 'Joel* 'What is it, my poor Nellie ?' 'Won't the doctor come soon, now ?' 'Yes, dear.' 'And is there any laudanum or morphine in the clopet? Please look; and once more poor Nellie shrieked aloud in agony. 'I would rather not give you morphine, iear.' ~ 'But Joe, I am suffering so much.' 'Here comes the doctor now?thank jod !' said Benson as he heard footsteps by I ;he door. _ i <0 Joe I' exolaimed Nellie,' ran out and t ;ell him to hurry !' a 'Doctor,' said Benson, as he met the ven- J arable physician at the door, <1 have not ; much money to offer you; but only save my poor unfortunate wife, or at least, alleviate aer sufferings, and I shall work my fingers to the bone to repay you doubly what you nay see fit to charge.' 'I shall do what ! can,' replied the doc tor; 'but where is the lady V e 'Here, sir,' said Charles, who had return- s 3d with the doctor; 'just step this way.' 1 The old gentleman entered the room in 1 silence; saw Nellie and ascertained her real c situation. He done what he could to administer to her comfort and temporary re- c lief; and, after leaving some directions, as 1 to her treatment, and promising to call a- f gain in a few hours time, prepared to leave < the house. . I 'What is your opinion"of the case, doc- 1 tor?'asked Benson, following him to the i door. 1 The doctor took a pinch of snuff; look- I sd long and earnestly into his hat; coughed i several times and then silently shook his ? bead. .... 'Can nothing be done for her ?' asked s Benson. _ . 1 'Badly burnt, sir; very badly,' said the < doctor, again shaking his head. 'Cannot i Imagine how she has lived even until now? i 1. J_ I) poor young iaay: ' 'But dootor there is some little hope of 1 her recovery?is there not?' asked Benson, 1 much affected. 1 <1 shall send a nurse to her as soon as possible; and my wife will remain here with you until the poor thing is out of all pain,' said the doctor. 'Out of all pain !' repeated Benson, taking the old man's hand in both of his.? 'You do not mean that she will die, doctor 1' Nothing but a miracle can save her.' 'And is there no hope?' asked Benson, with compressed lips. 'None 1' said the doctor, emphatically. 'All that we can do is tosmooth her pathway to the grave; for thither will she go in less than twenty or thirty hours. If you knew, sir, what agony she is enduring so patiently, you would not wish her stay protracted.' But, doctor, I cannot part with her,' , said Benson, his eyes filling with tears. , 'You must submit to the will of God, Mr. Benson,'"said the old gentleman, kindly. 'His dispensations are sometimes dark . and mysterious; but it is all right, sir.' 'No, no; it was never God's will that Nellie should die such a terrible death; no more than that I should have become her murderer It's all my fault, sir,?oh ! my poor Nellie.' 'It certainly was permitted by an overruling Providence,' said the doctor; 'and, hhaI ViAin/v tlio aooo it V?Q/*nmoo no rororan auuli UCiu^ uuc tuocj it yovumga uo icvcitu* tially to submit.' No, no, no; I can never believe even that,' said Benson. 'I promised her to come home early, poor thing; instead of which, I went to a drinking saloon, and became beastly drunk. I was brought here by her brother, who, seeing me about to drink more, took the bottle from me, and 1 threw it on the hearth, where the Jiquor took fire. Nellie was standing near by and the flame caught her dress?that was the j way of it, sir. Had I not have brought the brandy into the bouse Nellie would be 1 as well as ever now. No, no; it was not God's will, nor Charles Vincent's fault; but, I?oh, God !?I, who love her more 1 than the immortality of my own soul, and ' who she loves more than all else in the 1 world?I have murdered her!?murdered 1 my poor Nellie !' And so saying, Benson 'lifted up his voice and wept.' The physician saw at a glance the utter uselessness of endeavoring to comfort the 1 wretched man ; so, after promising to call 1 in again at daylight, and bring his wife ' with him, he silently left the house of ' mourning. 1 [conclusion next week.] ' The Fable op the Wandering Jew. 1 ?The legend of the Jew ever wandering 1 and never dying, even from the crucifixion ? of Jesus to this day, spread over many Eu- t ropean countries. The accounts, however, t as in all fables, do not agree. One version \ is this: When Jesus was led to death, ? 1 I .1 1 * / il . 1. _ J oppressed Dy tne weignt 01 me cross, ne i wished to rest himself near the gate at tho ' house of a shoemaker named Ahasnerus.? i This man, however, sprang forth and thrust 1 him away. Jesus turned toward him, say- a ing, <1 shall rest, but thou shalt move on t till I return.' And from that time he has a had no rest, and is obliged incessantly to r wander about. Another version is that giv- t en by Mathsas Parisiensis, a monk of the s thirteenth century. When Jesus was led a from the tribunal of Filatius to death, the ( door-keeper, named Cartafflious, pushed him ( from behind with his foot, saying, 'Walk ( on Jesus, quickly; why dost thy tarry?'? 1 Jesus looked at him gravely, and said,'I 1 walk ou but thou shalt tarry till I come.' 1 And this man still alive, wanders from place 1 to place in constant dread of the wrath to < :ome. A third legend adds that this waniering Jew falls sick every hundred years, but recovers, and renews his strength; bnnce it is that, even after so many centuries, he does not look much older than Sep- i iuagenarian. Thus much for the legends. Not one of the anoient authors makes even mention of such an account. The first who report some such thing is a monk of the thirteenth century, when, as is known, the i world was filled with pious fiction even to iisgust. However, the story has spread < far, so that it has become a proverb, 'He runs about like a wandering Jew.' There i ira nnf norortna wnn'inr? xwVir\ oaaorf fViof ;hey have seen the wanderiDg Jew. Bat i vhen their evidence ;is examined by the : ;est of historical credibility, it is found that i lome imposter had made nse of this fable 1 ;o impose upon simple minded people for i lome purpose of his own. However, the i egends not altogether nntrne; there is a \ vandering Jew who roves about Europe, ' hroughout every country. This imperishible being is?prejudice against the ] rEws. 1 -.I j popular ^eating. ; STBANGE CUSTOMS. , The Japanese are a queer people, and have , ome strange customs. The method of re- j enting and settling disputes is to say the ; east, peculiar, as will appear from the folowing, which we take from the corresponlence of a New York paper: In the land of Brahma, when two people juarrel about a piece of ground, he who ias the most malignity, as well as fondness , 'or his family, in him, takes a knife, walks { leliberately to bis neighbor's house, and Wanting himself right before his door, maiciously cuts his own throat. What, you nay ask, does he gain by this ? He gains lis lawsuit, for the disputed land inevitably jecomes the property of his family. A similar aberration of intellect pevails in the Japanese. Upon the least provocation, a gentleman wilt seize upon his own sword, ind rip up his own bowels. Yery frequent ly, whole families are ordered by the government to do this deed upon themselves, ind they obey at once. The poor Japanese, ,f any one chooses to offer him an indignity, must sacrifice himself wherever he may happen to be, or else consent to live among his suicide-countrymen a disgraced and ostman. With a party proceeding one day on an excursion into the country, we were followed by two officers of the government, who performed this duty under strict compulsion. Our American friends were thrown into a savage mood by the occurrence, and ane of these turned back and closely confronted these officials, and took hold of one af them by the shoulders, turned his face towards the bamboo edifice, aridgave him a slight push in that direction. The two Japanese persisted in coming onj the Yankee took bis man again by the shoulders, and performed with his heavy expedition boot a violent ceremony, which is usually considered anything but flattering or agreeable throughout the rest of the world, but in Japan was an insult that, we might safely aver, had never been committed before, and which could only be avenged by death.? Without, therefore, making the slightest attempt at retaliation on the body of his adversary, bo unsheathed his chief sword, whioh, beautifully burnished, flashed for an instant in the sunlight. The Tankee, meanwhile, extricated his revolver from its hiding place. It was needless, for at two strokes?two gentle slashes of that keenedged weapon, performed in an instant, one across the other, like the letter X?he had disemboweled himself, and fell a swiftly dying man. As he reached the ground, he cast up his eyes at his adversary, and see ing him standing near, apparently with no intention of following his example, he expressed the most fearful agony we had ever beheld. We were filled with dismay at this strange event, while the brother official surveyed us with threatning looks of the most intense horror. 'He expects you to kill yourself in like manner, and with the same sword/ said th6 Sandwich Islander. The American muttered out something to the effect that he was not such a fool.? Meanwhile, the distortions of the dying man were painful to look upon; the other officer motioned us away, and went down upon his knees beside the wounded body, and before he rose, a few seconds afterwards, the man was dead. COL. DAVID CBOCKETT. So many marvelous things have been attributed to Davy Crockett, that the very name brings to mind a variety of stories of how he 'chawed alligators/ 'grinned the bark off knotty trees/ or strode a swift jtreak of lightning/ and other performanc3S and adventures of this class. The life jf the pioneer always presents numerous features calculated to interest those who ive in the midst of a populated country, ind who have never witnessed the rugged icenes by which he is surrounded, and hrough which he paves the way for advancing civilization. Of all those, howev- < ;r, who have spent their days in the wil- i lorness of what we have designated tho i backwoods/ the name of none has become i nore familiar than that of Davy Crockett. - v 1 _? I- - .1 I. .1 J J 9 .t nas long since Deeu a ouuseuuiu wuru, ] md has been sounded throughout the en- ] ire land; yet, in the face of all this, there i ire many in this country who, through the i lumcrous stories related of impossible i hings performed by him, are firmly per- i uaded that he was nothing but a 'myth,' < ind many more who are undecided whether | >r not to believe that such a man as David ] >ockett ever existed. These stories were i ;urrent during his life, and it would seem i 'rom his own preface to his biography, that i /exed, or, to use his own term, 'riled,' him lot a little; and surely, if any man ever iad reason to find fault with the use made >f his name, that man was David Crockett. Crockett was do ordinary man: unlettered in speeoh, and unsophisticated in the etiquette of society, his actions were uniformly guided by strong native sense, with a sterling honesty of purpose that nothing conld swerve; and, after a credible servioe in the Creek war, the distinction to whioh he had attained, was attested by his election to Congress, from his district in Tennessee. It has been remarked that, save in the case of William Pitt, all men of eminence have at some period of their lives tried their hand at poetry. The gallant Colonel was no exception to the rale, as may be 1 seen from the following concluding stanza 1 from some iarewell anapests, written at the ' time when, having been defeated for a ? fourth term in Congress, in consequence of J bis manly opposition to the imperious dy- " nasty or Jackson, ne determined to book a 1 theater of new adventure in Texas: * "Farewell to my country! I fought for thee well t When the savage rushed forth like the demons in t hell; ; * [n peace or in war I have stood by thy side, My country, for thee I have lived?would have t * died, s But I am cast off, my career now is run, And I wander about like the prodigal son? Where the wild savage roves, and the broad c prairies spread, : '*" ] rhe fallen, despised, will again go ahead." f The last two words are characteristic of ^ the originator of the celebrated motto: (Be ( 3ure you're right, then go ahead/ cast a ^ gleam of sunshine back npon the otherwise lachrymose, as well as reproaohful sentiment contained in the lines. -jw \ From the Cotton Planter and Soil. CANCERS. , There was a remedy for the above justly j dreaded disease, published in the papers generally, last year. It was chloride of ' zinc and pulverized blood root. Living near me, was a negro woman about fifty-five yeais old; who had an eating ( cancer from the nipple to the armpit, about six inches long and two or three wide; it had been spreading for five years, until her system was generally yielding to it. Upon . her the remedy was applied as follows: The zinc, which is sold in bard crystals, absorbs 1 water rapidly on exposure, is rnbbed with ( the blood root until a paste is formed with- ( oat the addition of anv fluid. This is an W r * 1 plied to the diseased part, spread on oloth, oat to fit close as possible. The sine being caustio, bums the skin, for that reason the plaster should be confined as near as possible to the affected parts. Two applications were made, each plaster remaining on twenty-four hoars. A small portion of the cancer was tumorous, with apparently a healthy skin over it. On that part another application was made; in five days the diseased part sloughed oat, leaving a cavity the size as above and about an inch deep, which was treated as a burn, and considering the age of this subject, ber health and the extent of her wound, healed rapidly and now the former diseased part is covered with a smooth healthy cuticle. Her health fully restored, and so far as external evidence can determine, the cancer is cured! The application was made in October last. P. T. GRAVES. The above remedy for this alarming disease, Cancer, and the facts of the case detailed, are from a gentleman, a planter, of this country, and may be relied on as strictly correct. _ We hope our readers will treasure up ?his information, and be ready at all times both to use?if so unfortunate as to have a case of cancer in their families? ana aiso to communicate it rreely to tnose who are not so fortunate as to .be subscribers to, and readers of the "Cotton Planter and Soil."?Ed. Planter. The Bear.?I was told by an old Delaware Indian that when the bear has been travelling against the wind, and wishes to lie down, be always turns in an opposite direotion, and goes some distance away from his first track before making his bed. If an enemy then comes upon his trail, his keen sense of smell will apprise him of the danger. The same Indian mentioned that when a bear bad been pursued and jsought 1 shelter in a cave, he bad often,endeavored to eject him with smoke, bat that the bear 1 wonld advance to the month of the cave, 1 where the fire was burning, and pat it out with his paws, then retreat into the cave again. This would indicate that Brain is endowed with some glimpses of reason beyond the ordinary instincts of the brnte creation in general, and, indeed, is capable I of discerning the connection between cause j effeet. Notwithstanding the extraordinary ' intelligence which this quadruped exhibits ' upon some occasions, upon others he shows himself to be one of the most stupid brutes ' imaginable. For example, when he has ( taken possession of a cavern, and the coura- ^ geous hunter enters with a torch and rifle, 1 it is said, he will, instead of forcibly ejecting the intruder, raise himself upon bis ] haunches and cover his eyes with his paws, j on no fn nvnlnrla iVin lirrhf. nnnownf 1*7 thinV w ? "h"w> ??j ~?? x ing that in this situation he cannot be seen. e The hunter can then approach as close as he r pleases, and shoot him down.?Prairie s Traveller. ( A new receipt for Sleepiness.?Our friend, the Thakoor, also visited us, and he excused the non-appearance of bis little 9on, on the ground that he was asleep un- g der his waterfall. I had almost omitted to mention the curious habit of the hill peo- g pie to which this phrase of the Thakooris relates. Whenever a woman wishes to put 8 ber child to sleep, she takes it to one of the numerous places for this purpose, which j ire all over the mountain-sides wherever t there is water. They consist of a shed, or j sheds, in which there are stone troughs fill- ? 2d from the running stream; and from those t troughs are little pipes made of reeds, or hollow stems of trees, which spout out water with a gentle trickling fall, under which 1 the child's head is placed at the distance i of a few inches. The effect is almost im- j mediate. The child closes its eyes and its i mouth, and falls into a profound, sweet, healthful sleep, which endures so long as it is left under the water-spouts. I have seen i loiens of children thus lying fast asleep;, rod, as far as I could ascertain, do evil effect whatever can be attributed to the prtfeice. It certainly seems an admirable preparation against colds in the head; and i devoted mother would only make the experiment in this conntTy, and it wenp fbund inccesfhl, she would be regarded as a -^ejh ling to her species, in introducing such a lelightful custom?pleasant to children, rod invaluable to parents.?Diary in Social Festivities.?Man, speaking n a generic sense, is pre-eminently a social >eing, created with mental and phymoal ODgings after something more than self. A iouI forever outreaohing after kindred, congenial spirits, and appropriating the finite ?stretching beyond the 'utmost verge of ime and space1 towards the infinite. A leart, with delicate tendrils creeping oat ow&rd other hearts, and seeking to inter- '* wine them in a net work of social lov^that ifaall make them beat in anison with <nanre's symphonies divine'-and develop here. % i type of heaven. Man, alone! how miserable; bnt a moiety if a perfect being?wrapped tip "Ha self. Sven Paradise, with all its beanfie*-3$? 'raits?its flowers?its golden gloriefr?its lirect communion with heaven?an&pfcnt* if ministering angels would not satUfyjthi* brever unrest of man. Society! Society ! ? congenial mind?a sympathising heart , sparkling eye?an electrifying soul was wanted::?another self? <4Then woman came, and Eden railed.'.' Man unregeneraied, unrefined, has & ways sought to indulge this prompting of a is sooial nature in the Bacchanalian or* giea, practised by a Belsbassar or sung by Auaoreon. Bat the Christian heart, refined icknowledges a God in its festivities, Whose f?rsmile of approbation warm all hearts in-fc to the fall enjoyment of 'a feast of reason ind a flow of son!/ and touches with the wave of oblivion, the shady, weeping side }f earth, and opens up 4 foretaste of millennial bliss! # ^ - * It is such social entertainment afrthia We would encourage, and invite all opr readers to nartakein?where the higher Qualities of r . o ^? -J :? the mind and heart may b? developed, tad neighborhoods and communities and cburcfev es may be knit together. Snuff.?We have ascertained that near Iy ten thousand pounds of Scotch Spuff annually bought and sold in thj* market, A large portion is sold in butkj to merchants and traders in the surrounding country. It costs our merchants from 12 to 20 cents per pound, and is usually retailed, & ounces for 5 cents; and 4 ounces for 10 cents; and 1 lb. for 25 or^Q cents, a disagreeable and not very prohtable article of trade; and is kept by most .traders simply because they have customers who call for it. We have-reason to believe that negro women are the largest -uonsuigejn, though we are aware that it isno particular grade of citizens.?Salisbury Watchman. ?. He who actaas if Gwl had mistaken the proportions in which prosperity and adversity should be allotted to ns?and seeks, < by hair shirts, prolonged abetfoeaSireMd self-imposed penance, to render^ more pet feet the discipline of suffe riag^-otAj $ n fee- p bles instead of invigorating his piety; and: resembles one of thjtee bypoobbfidHaoal patients, the plagne and torment of pby& ciaDs, who, having sought advice, and b&>. ing supposed to follow it, are found not owL ly taking their physician's well judged prescriptions, bat secretly dosing themselves, in the intervals with some qnackffin n?tn,ni _? * The motives of-mean minds and their accompanying manoeuvres, their little envies, jealousies and revenges, are often ntterly incomprehensible to those who have lofty pursuits, or who are in the habit of thinking liberally. On the other hand, a man of eh'aracter?'of a oharacter variously coumponnded?ooDscioos of the many circumstances and influences by which it hu* been formed, seldom feels more indignation' than when a Very commonplaoe one is endeavoring to analyze him, assign his motives, or predict his mode of action.' ? ni? jf FalseJ^aib guarded Against.?At Dieppe, la France, a famous bathing-place, there is a police established, whose duty it is to resoue persons from danger. ' The fidlowing notice was recently issned to them : "The bathing police is requested, when a lady is in danger of drowning, to seize her jy the dress and not by the hair, which )ftentimes remains in their grasp.. Newfoundland dogs will also govern themselves icoordingly!" t&T Simplicity of style is safe for all.? For those whose education has been mnch imited, it is the only safety; for if they will ise an abundance of fine words, they most cither nse them in combinations already faniliar, and therefore generally noimpresive?or, if they attempt an original application, they mast often hazard a wrong one. x Vacation fbom oyer worked Ma'ernity.?A wothan in Philadelphia, is dvertiring in one of the duly papers, <Inant retreat,' established for the reception ind accommodation of those habies whose affectionate parents desire to get through their ummer travelling without incumbrances ! tGF* By all means make yourself at home, f you stay only a week atyouifiend's relative's, or brother's house; but if you "stay or three months in another - man's bouse, itill make yourself just a shade less at home ban the master of it * if Chasm of a Newspaper Mrs. Swisslelm says that the popularity of her paper n Minnesota is due to the feet that "people are always expecting she will say someng she ought not to." I&? He that is too good for good advioe, s too good for his neighbor's company.