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v ? ' ^y- "4 , - ? __ ~ _ ~ ' " ' iewis m. oRisT, Proprietor. | An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. | $2 pee ahhifm nr abtwcb. VOL. 6. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY. OCTOBER 11, 1860. NO. 41.; drightal |Ueira. a leisure: lay?to e. t. I. l> From my mountain haunts I greet thee, Child of Beauty, once again? From these scenes, where parent Nature Wearies not with busy men. ii. Some hare thought that in the Future? In our home of final bliss? All the scenes are but the memories Of the scenes we've known in this; That from Earth we bear impressions To delight the spirit eye? Lights and shades, so dearly treasured That in Heaven they cannot die. m. I have deemed that thought a true one, And my faith is brighter here? Here, amid these grander glories Proudly mounting far and near. it. While I hear some maiden streamlet Singingsong9 that Nature taught her; Or I see some wild cascade?some Lithe Terpsichore of water: While I course some mountain torrent Laurelled Little, all cascady, Or Tokeske?reinless Racer? Or the Swannanoa shady; Or, our own clear south Saluda Down its homeless heights a play, Or some nameless ferny rillet Romping down its headlong way ; Always here I deem I gather Something for the spirit time? Scenes of beauty as immortal As the spirit-life sublime. Always here there glides, my Fairy, (Softly, lightly, here-among.) One?a form my Memory fondles? Fair and sylphike, lithe and young. T. Whose that form thou knowst, my Fairy ; Let U linger here with me While I lonely wand'ring weave my Light and artless songs for thee. Ox ths French Broad. N. C. (In Indian, Toke.ke, the Racer,) J. W. D. Jit Original Stoo. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. ST. PIERRE, THE MOUNTEBANK; OR, THE PREDICTION. A Romance of the Empire, under Catharine, II. BY R B. RUSSELL. CHAPTER V II. THE DISCOVERY. "Thou art sworn As deeply to effect what we intend. As closely to conceal what we Impart: Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way; AVhat think'st thou t" Three months have passed away sioce the conclusion of our last chapter. In a small cabinet of the imperial palace at St. Petersburg, then the residence of the Empress Catharine, were three persons. Alexander, Count de Moner, and Remoul, the empress' private physician. The latter was a small man, with thin features, and was attired in a suit of black as became his profession. He was a tnan of great talents, quick in motioD aud temper; inclined to be avaricious, loving gold for its own sake rather than for what it would purchase; kind to his friends and, as the count had procured him the post he held as head physician to the empress, he was eager to do everything that lay in his power to repay him. As will be seen hereafter, he was a mere tool in de Moner's hands, yet, had any one hinted the fact to him, he would have rejected it with scorn. He and his friends were seated at a small ebODy table, which was covered with the remains of a slight repast they had just partaken of; and which, at a sign from the duke, the two servants who were lounging near the window out of earshot, proceeded to remove. At their departure the count rose and turned the key in the lock, and then glancing toward the duke, signed to him to open the conversation. Well,' said Alexander, 'as we are rid of those two fellows whom, I verily believe, my royal grandmother has placed as spies on me, we will proceed to business. You say,' he continued, turning to the physician, 'the empress will not live more than ten days ?' 'Ten days at the farthest, my lord,' replied the physiciau, with a professional bow ; 'on the eleventh she will have ceased to live. Her case is a very curious one,' he added, 'very curious indeed, and I think?' 'Spare us the details,' said the duke quickly. 'All I think of now is, that despite the mountebauk's prediction, my father will be emperor after all.' 'But you then step into his present position?thatof grand-duke of the empire,' said Bemoul. 'Yet that fortune-teller told me I should be emperor at my graudmother's death,' said the duke. 'You know the history; I have told it you over and over again.' 'I remember it, my lord.' 'To tell you the truth, de 31oner,' said the duke, turning to the other, who was gaziDg thoughtfully through the open window. 'To tell you the truth, I was surprised when I awoke on the following morning, to see you standing by my bedside, your hands covered with the blood?' 'Of my poor brother who was so foully murdered,' said the count, shuddering.? 'What a singular coincidence it was, ray lord, that I happened to be passing the house in which he was slain, at the very moment the assassin discharged the pistol !' 'Very singular,' said the Duke. 'You then rushed into the house?' 'And discovered the body of my poor brother lying dead near the window. The murderer endeavored to escape, but a bullet from ray pistol speedily reached his heart. What a cry he gave when he fell ! It rings in my ears yet. I then fainted; but the servants, who had been awakened by the report of the pistol, rushed in and speedily restored me to consciousness. Al! this did not occupy more than ten minutes Oa looking; oat I saw the officers of justice sea bearing off the body of the murderer; aod ' I resolved to leave Rome iostantly. On ' searching the body of my brother I found < the order for my recall; and without cleans- hei ing the blood from ray hands, T hastened 1 to apprise you of the sad event. Poor 1 Richard ! he deserved a better fate !' ue< 'And I felt his loss severely,' said Alex- evf der; as did all that knew him. He was a tak bitter enemy?a true friend.' ? cer 'And a great favorite of the Empress,' seq said the physician 'She was deeply griev- 1 ed on hearing of his sudden death; and ' honored his memory by raising his brother, yourself, to a high position in the govern- as ment.' str 'For which I am truly thankful,' said of! the Count, turning to a sideboard and help- titl ing himself to a glass of wine. 'Here's to wo her health.' wa 'Her death, you mean,' said Alexander. A1 *>? orfl r?rn. fnr j *L*ayj ici UC1 live bin IXJJT piauo aio p?v- >vi pared,' said de Moner. 'Now, as to the wo mountebank's prediction. It must be ap- du ! parent to you?' at 'Hush!' exclaimed the Duke, as his !quick ear caught the sound of someone inj approaching; and rising, he walked to the wii | door and opened it. A servant entered and wt whispered a few words in his ear. 'Gen- coi [tlemen,' he added, 'I must leave you now, |as the Empress desires my presence irame- lie 'diately; and as I do not know how long I shall be absent, you need not await my re- en: turn. Let us meet here again this evening.' fri 'At what hour, my lord?' 'At eight.' thi 'So be it,' said de Moner. 'And you?' he added, turning to the physician. thi 'Shall be obliged to remain with the thi 1 Empress.' in j 'We need not look forvou then,' said the Duke. Do not fail uMlkMoner ?' 'n< 'I will be punctual, ray^PP But your be father r ae 'Is making preparation to start for Jarno. pr He will return at midnight.' by 'At eight expect me,' said the Count; m< 'and he bowed and took his leave. On reaching his house, Pietro met him in the bu hall and informed him that a visitor was otl awaiting his return in the library. 'What name did he give ?' ce 'Here is his card, my lord.' su The Count took it and read, 'Casper Hoff- wa man, notary of Severnia, Leipsic.' po 'I will attend to him iustantly,' he said m! I 'Where is your lady?' rel 'In her own room.' 'L j 'Has Henri been here to-day?' an j No, my lord 'He calls only in the even se? 'ing.' lac 'True; I foreot. Whenever he comes, always show him into my private room at once, and take care that none of the other spi servants see him. Do you know this man's business?' M lI do not, my lord; but it must be ur- wa gent, as he appears to be very anxious to th< see you.' 'Well, forget not my instructions?' bo 'They shall be faithfully attended to, my lord.' ob The Count ascended the stairs and enter- P* ed the library. The notary, a tall, stout, tei middle-aged man, rose at his entrance and mi bowed. 'I believe I have the honor of addressing as j the Count de Moner?' he said, in a tone of inquiry. The Count bowed. 'As I see re: you have my card in your hand,' he continued, 'it is perhaps needless for me to in- wl form you that I am a notary of Leipsic.' to 'Leipsic!' said the Count; 'true. Take a chair.' pi 'A notary of Leipsic,'continued the oth- tai Irvloninr* hie unrJ nnnn Jiia honrf nnr^ T i ' CI } piaviu^ IIIO IIUUU U^/Vu IIU7 UVUI V vuv A. bowing, as though addressing a count. 'A ce , notary of Leipsie'?the Count wioced at ta! | the repetition?'and formerly the steward :and confidant of the Duke de Leipsie.' hi The Count started slightly as he heard the words; but immediately requested the sa other to proceed. th 'The honorable Count?I mean you, my da | lord, are aware that the Duke?my client? wf !excuse me, a mistake?that the Duke was at 'assassinated in the city some twelve years !ago, and that the murderer was never dis- co : covered.' A deadly paleness overspead the Count's I features as he heard these fearful words, for he had been aware from the first that <Y the murderer was?his own brother. 'Go on,' he said, at length. is It was thought at the time that he was husband of the Princess Maria, whose death preceded his only three days. le< 'True,' said the Count. 'It was supposed of they were married, but supposition only, ^he proofs were never found.' j 'Nevertheless, they were married,' said Pi Ithe notary, briefly. ne 'Tndeed ! How do vou know?' 'Because, my lord, I myself was present at the ceremony.' t]< 'You !'cried the Count. 'You present ?' th j 'Ay, and another who also signed the papers, but his name I never learned. He was bl | introduced to us by Paul as his secretary.' 'Was Paul present?' inquired the Count, lei I 'lie was ' De Moner rose from his chair on hearing sa the reply, and walked up and down the room several times. A thousand tumultuous I | thoughts swept like lightning through his ! brain, but he had not time to analyze them, be | ere the notary again spoke. an 'The Princess was very young then, a mere girl, scarcely fifteen years of age,' he n< | said. 'Owing to the disfavor?I may say, | the hatred?of the Empress toward the m. i Duke, and which was reciprocated?so to speak?by his highness, toward the Em- e(^ 'press, the uuion was kept secret. But at t0 | length she suspected it; and to suspect with iier was to condemn. The Princess died in 'e prison, some say by poison, others by Strang- lh ulatioC; and again others by consumption ; while the Duke was assassinated. No clue cl i to the murderer was ever discovered, but hi 11 that he acted under the orders of the Em- $ii I j press has never been doubted. er li 'How long before their death were they u< . J married ?' inquired the Count, as he again ly ted himself. ths About five yeara.' mi Where?' th< At Vienna, where the Duke first'saw m< Ai Go on/ du The Empress, as I have heard,' contin- let 1 the notary?'swore that if she should it :r learn they were married, 9he would is e the lives of all who assisted at the tw emony, should she discover them. Con- foi [uently the boy was placed?' en 'What boy?' inquired the Count. ex 'Their son.' 'st The count bounded from hiq chair go though he had received an electric oke. Their son ! The son of the Duke Leipsic and the Princess Maria! Wealth, ies, the highest honors of the Empire uld be his could he but prove it. His an rd would be the wife of Alexander; sti exander the emperor at Catharine's death; vi well he knew how deep, how deadly te nld be her vengeance upon the unhappy ke, could it be proved that he was present th the ceremony. 'Your nardoo.' he said at leneth. turn r ' q ' ?to the notary, who stood gazing at him th th surprise; 'but T was so astonished len I heard of this that I was unable to itain myself.' 'Yes; bat I hope I am not wrong in be- ju ving that you are his friend V 'I am his friend,' said the count, with ec iphasis?'his true and most intimate b< end.' ly 'Yet it appears that he never told you of di is ?' le 'If you knew him as well as I do,' said di s count, 'you would be aware that for 3 last ten years he has placed confidence as no one ' la 'Tis just as I thought,' said the notary, Si jr do I blame him Well, this boy must ti now fifteen years of age. At the duke's ath, Paul took charge of him ; and, to j event discovery, placed him with a man j the uarne of Saint Pierre, a traveling mntebank.' Again deMoner started with surprise: t recovering instantly, he requested the te tier to proceed. te 'I believe yoir are aware that the prinss, his mother, was inclined to be conmptive; consequently the mountebaok is reouested to brins him ud as much aslo V . I u ssiblein the open air. The certificate of fc trriage, together with the other papers ta lating thereto, was sealed up aud marked Lt and M.' the initials of the unhappy pair, 0j d placed for safe keeping in Paul's pos- e, >sion ; and I have now come to take the 1 vi The door opened and Pietro entered. b, 'My lord,' he said, 'the young man you |1( oke to me about just now, Henri?' ft 'I will attend to him instantly,' said de a[ oDer quickly. 'Bid him wait;'and he ived his hand as a sign to Pietro to leave e room. s? 'So you have come to take charge of the nj y?' he inquired. w 'I have, my lord,' replied the notary, 'in ^ edience to a letter which T received from t)l iul a few weeks since. The boy will en- ^ r into a rich possession, larger by far than y( any of the petty dukedoms of Germany ': ? 'Did Paul sign the certificate of marriage! a witness?' L, ?lie did, aud so did I, as will as his see- j tr tary.' ' L? 'But why did you Dot go to Paul at once j ^ ien you arrived here, instead of coming me?' inquired the count. I 'I did go to the palace several times,' re- ai ied the notary, 'but was denied admitnce. Knowing that you were his friend, ,>] came to you, believing that you had acss to him at all hours, and that you would 0j ke me to him.' J ja 'Why did you not send up your card tO|jc m ?' | [ 'The servants refused to take it. They Cl id the empress was dangerously ill, and e( at the grand-duke was in constant atten- ol mce upon her. Hearing to-day that he sj is about to leave the city, [ came to you once.' tu 'You should have called before,' said the unt. 'He left an hour ago.' tj 'Is it possible ! What am I to do then V p 'Follow him.' j] 'Follow him !' repeated the notary.? ^ es, 'tis the only way,' 'He will spend the uight at Jarno, which jn about five leagues distant.' U( 'But it will be dark in two hours.' hi ?A good horse will carry you there in tj. ;s time than that. I will lend you one mine, if you wish. Have you dined?' a 'No, my lord.' 'Allow me to offer you some refreshment, etro !' The attendant entered. 'Is din- ;r r ready ?' 'Almost, my lord.' w 'Nay, I can't wait,' said the notary.? sc [very moment is precious. When will u, e uuke return ?' The day after to-morrow,' was the un- fr ushing reply. _ _ al 'I must see him to night. With your j) ive, I shall depart at once.' 'You had better take some refreshments,' q id the count. 'Thank you, my lord, for the offer; but ^ would rather go.' af 'As you will. .Pietro, order a horse to : saddled instantly. Do you wish a quiet a] imal, sir?' b, 'I should think so, seeing that I seldom p( ie,' replied the notary. e? 'Farewell then,' said the count 'Give ra y best love and respects to the grand-duke, ould you see him. 'The attendant open- e, [hiseyes. 'Pietro, show the gentleman the horseblock and return instantly.' m 'This way, sir,'said Pietro; and the two ft the room, the notary bowing nearly to e door. 'So, so,' mused the count, as the door 'I osed behind them, 'the cards are in my it inds at last. Once let me secure posseson of the certificate and lay it before the npress, and Paul is doomed. I would )t give a single hair for bis life then. Onten days left to her!' he muttered. 'In ci it time much must be done. Alexander ist wed raj ward, the papers relating to tl 3 marriage procured, and a fitting mo- it ;nt found to present them to Catharine. t< id this notary! He must not see the a ke, nor the duke him; for should Paul irn from his lips that I knew his secret, a would defeat my plans. What a fool this notary ! Because I was Paul's friend el ve years ago, he thinks I must be now, rgetting that the friend of to-day is the c emy of to-morrow! Ha! Pietro I' he p claimed, as the servitor again entered, ) you have returned ! Has the notary t ne?' ' Not yet, my lord.' I And Henri?' y 'Is in your private room.' t Pietro,' said the count, approaching him, c id laying his hand upon his arm,'are you f ill desirous of calling the lands of Kays- i tch your own and being your own mas- a r ?' 'More so than ever, my lord/ returned <3 e other eagerly. s 'And would stop at nothing to win them ?' I'd face the very devil himself to get c em.' There is a way.' Name it?' Bring me word that the man who has ist left me is dead, and the lands of?' Pietro waited to hear no more, but rush1 from the room. The next morning the )dy of the unfortunate notary was found iog dead on the roadside, the features istorted and the pockets sifted. A bult hole in the forehead told how he had ied.' A faithful fellow !' muttered the count,! i Pietro disappeared. 'He will win the; nds, I am sure of it. Now for Henri aiot Pierre, Duke of Leipsic, and the oerficate of marriage !' CHAPTER VIII. A STRANGE HISTORY. "No more. unless the next word that thou gpeakeat Have some malignant power upon my life ; , If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, J As ending anthem of my endless dolour." < 'Well, Henri,' said de Moner, as he enred the room in which the lad was sead, and taking him warmly by the hand, have good news for you.' Of yoursoQ, my lord ?' inquired the lad The Count's features instantly fell.? ince that fatal night when he had so unirtunately slain his own brother in mis ke for the mountebank, his son had rangely disappeared. All that was known ? him was, that he had entered Rome that rening?had left his trunks at one of the 3iels, and had gone out immediately to isit his father. No one knew what had jcome of him ; and as, from all accounts, e had been spoken of as a quiet, thoughtil lad, with no bad habits, his disappearice was most remarkable. 'No, Henri, no Dews of him yet,' was the ouruful reply. <1 would give much to ie bim again, for he was my all in all? y ooly son and child?my heir. Well, ell, tie aauea, witn a sign, 'let us uope lat he will one day appear. But no more ow, for it saddens uie. Be seated, my ay, for I have much to say to you. Do du know, Henri,' he asked, 'where the rand-duke Paul keeps his private papers?' 'I do tny lord,' replied the lad, in some trprise. 'He keeps them in an iron bound unk beneath his bed. It is always lockJ, and he wears the key constantly around [ i9 neck like a watch.' 'There is one paper in that trunk, Henri, must have. It is a package marked 'L. 1 ad M.;' and you must procure it for me.' 'Impossible ! my lord !' cried the lad ? ' riie lock is not to be forced.' 'Impossible !' repeated the Count. 'How ften have I told you, Henri, that nothing ! impossible ! The word is not to be found 1 my vocabulary, nor should it-be in yours. ^ tell you that that package must tie proared, and that too, ere the week has pass- j 3. You have six days to procure it in ; a the seventh it must be in ray posses on.' ; 'Would it were in my power to get it, iy lord ; but again I say, it is impossible.' 'Still that word !' cried the Count, impa- ! ently. 'I cell you what it is, Henri Saint ! ierre, if you dare refuse again I'll?' j 'e paused suddenly, for he saw from the lughty smile and firm set lip of the lad, lat threats would be useless; and masterig his anger by a great effort, he continue!?'strange it is, Henri, that you, who ave always done ray bidding without lought or question, should refuse to do | lis. Suppose a title were offered you as reward for the service, would you deem , impossible then ?' 'And who would bestow it upon me V iquired the lad, evidently much agitated. 'Jot Paul, indeed, for be would load me . ith execrations. Moreover, he has been i kind to me of late?has often taken me . pon his knee and kissed me?called me is friend?me, a poor helpless boy, his . ieod; aDd he so proud and unbending to 1 others. Oh ! I dare not?cannot do it! on't ask it of me !' 'But think, Henri, a title I' said the ount, moving his chair close to him ; . hink what it is to be called 'my lord;' to . n U ft ?J in on/1 nnlnin/l Al?^ In ik A fltrnnta ? UUYVUU IU auu JJU1UIUU UUb 1U tuu ououia J ! the young nobleman ; to stand in the resence of the great as their equal; and 1 to be gained by merely breaking open a dx and abstracting therefrom a single pa- * 2r?or rather a packet?which is of no 1 irthly use no Paul, and which will make 1 ore than one person happy !' ? 'Will it ?' inquired the lad, raising his s fes, which were filled with tears, toward ( le face of the speaker. 'You say it is of I j use to Paul ?' 1 'I do.' 'And it will injure no one?' f 'It will noi,' was the unblushing reply. 1 dore than this, Henri, Paul will be glad i the end that you took it.' I 'He will?' 1 'Without doubt.' ' 'And it will procure me a title ?' J 'It will,' replied the Count. 'Do you i ansent ?' 1 The boy hesitated a moment longer? ed le straggle of ingratitude and desire with- en 1 his breast would not permit him to yield ho jo easily; but at length he replied in the ffirmative. he Fatal word! It lost him a dukedom nd gained him a grave. 'And the paper ?' 'ft 'Shall be yours ere the week is over.' Al The Count smiled?suoh a smile ! Lu- th ifer's frownjvould have been angelic com- mi iared with it. th 'Remember, Henri,' he said, as a few gt ainutes later the boy rose to take his leave; I remember it is a packet marked with the etters <L and M.' To prevent a mistake, cli ou had better tear it open and examine G he papers it contains, and if you should lot find a marriage certificate therein, search urther. I think, however, you will find it n the packet; and if so, hold it as dearly si< s you would your life.' dc 'I will, my lord. Farewell! In five re lays the packet will be in your hands, or I Pi hall have oeased to live.' sh 'Poor fool!' muttered the Count, as the of loor closed behind him ; 'more so than I li' hought. Holy Writ tells us that Esau sold lis birthright for a mess of pottage ; this gi >oy sells his for a promise. Egad, if he th ;ucceeds, I shall think that Esau got the fit >est of the bargain. And this?this is the lonest lad whom the mountebank praised th 10 highly, this is the son of Catharine's bit- su crest enemy ! And so honest! Well, I hi sanoot blame him for acting thus. At his fo ige I would have done the same, had the ai shance been offered me. Honesty ! Pish ! pi [ tried it once myself and failed. Had I )een honest and virtuous I should not be p< vhat I am now. The honest man hesitrftes, while the unscrupulous rush onward and ?ain the prize. Crimes have made me what w [ am ! For I murdered my futher, and I m slew my brother, and I married the girl 01 svho bated me, and I crushed all who op- m posed me, and lam Ranel Gotschoff, Count le Moner, and Minister of Police of the Empire ! and my march is still onward !? What next ? Ah, I must prepare Amy to ci receive the Duke as a suitor. I need np- ai prehend no difficulty in that quarter. She will be delighted beyond expression when r< jhe.learns the name of her intended hus- A band.' ju And he rang the bell three times, a sig-jl Qui to the young lady that he was about to | visit her. Her aunt was with her at the I'1 moment he entered; but at a sign from! him she instantly left the room. 'Amy,' he said, after passing the usual complimentary remarks, 'do you not feel t< lonesome here, sometimes ?' h 'No, my lord; why should I?' My ti aunt is always with me, I go out sometimes; h and besides I have my birds and flowers to occupy me all the df.y long. What more T could I desire V v 'Yes, yes; but your aunt has not one of c< the best tempers in the world, that, we all r< know, and 'tis time that other subjects occupied your mind than birds and flowers. 1? Is not your Dirtn day near at nana r 'To morrow, my lord.' cl 'And you are now seventeen, lacking a n day. How time does fly ! T should not tl feel it did I not have you constantly near me to remind me. Seventeen ! it is time it you had a suitor, Amy.' The poor girl started. Clouds on clouds I3 af blushes mantled her cheeks as this coarse w remark of her relative fell upoD her ear; ai but iD a moment her face resumed its usual y> color. d 'Yes, a suitor, Amy,' repeated the Count, u gazing at her intently?'a suitor. You tl comprehend my meaning, I presume ?' si 'I do, my lord ; but?' st 'One like you,' continued the Count, I te 'young, beautiful and rich, may wed with the highest in the land, and live in a style as befitting your birth and station. It was as your father's wish that you should be ai brought up with my son, and his hope that lc you would soon learn to love each other.? 'I [t was for this reason alone that your aunt, bi your mother's sister, took up her residence P' with me; but alas! the strange disappear- di ince of uuy poor boy has crushed my hopes a that direction, and I must look farther. s? rhe palace which your fatherordered to be pi Duilt, is now nearly finished; and it would ai lot look well were you to take up your a- pi lode in it alone.' Nay, my lord,' said Amy, 'a cottage is ill I wish for.' in 'A cottage, indeed !' repeated de Moner, bi icornfully. 'A cottage I the girl has lost m ler senses ! Come ! away with these ro- a: nantic notions at once, and listen to me. m What think you of Alexander?' w 'Of Alexander,' repeated Amy in a be- ai yildered tone. b< Ay, of Alexander, the Duke?you know ic lim!' oi 'I have seen him but once, my lord, and pi mow very little of him.' 'Well, it matters not,' said the Count, m rapatiently. 'He intends to visit you this jvening or to-morrow, as a suitor; and I p irust I need not point out the line of con- hi iuct for you to follow, nor the respect with It vhich the grandson of the Empress should in ie treated. When you see more of him,' vi le added, 'you will, I am sure, like him n< letter.' te 'Never !' was the vehement reply. at 'Indeed !' said the Count, fiercely. 'Ah, e) >ut you have not heard all. Listen to me, 80 ^my. This marriage was decided upon nonths ago, even before you had ever seen ej >ach other. Alexander looks upon it as a ic, lettled thing, and so does your aunt. Five lays only remains for you to make your 0v jreparatioDs in ; on the sixth the union wi nust and shall take place.' fie 4This is cruel, my lord,' said the poor cr jirl; 'and still more so when my heart is h< ilready given to another.' ni No sooner had Amy made this confession di ;han she regretted it. The Count started hi from his chair as though he had trodden ni ... L jpon an adder. The veins in his temples tt ind forehead swelled like cords; and he fo raised his hand as if about to strike her to uj the floor. But partly recovering, he grasp- vi her arm tightly ; and after making sev- th il vain attempts to speak, whispered T1 arsely, wi Given to another! Have you never ba ard the fate of the Princess Maria ?' at The girl shuddered. nc Beware!' he said, releasing his hold; in >r I never threaten twice. Refuse to wed at lexander, and you shall be immured in e\ e walls of a dungeon for life. You know so e, Amy; and you know the rights which M e laws of our country give me, as your th lardian. They have limits, I know, but rij will exceed them.' 'You dare not do this thing,' said Amy, asping her hand. <1 will appeal to the in rand Duke.' ot 'He will laugh at you.' hi To the Empress!' ai 'And who will admit you to her? Be- hi ies you forget that since ray brother's cc mth she has favored me highly, and will aj fuse to listen to anything against me.? tt srhaps you do not know,' he added, 'that P e has just raised me to the proud station ar Minister of Police, and that I hold the I res and fortunes of millions in my hands!' ic 'Then there is no hope ! said the poor ti rl, who knew how almost unlimited was R >e power of the holder of that fearful of- C :e 'None but in submission, Amy,' replied ic ie Count, in a calmer tone. 'As to this litor of yours,' he added, 'you shall see b: im no more. Seek not to leave the house, st r every step you take will be watched. I el n resolved that this marriage shall take y ace, so let me hear no more against it.' o' 'And nothing will turn you from your i arpose ?' 'Nothing.' ci 'This is cruel,' said Amy, her eyes filling ith tears. 'You have no right to coerce e thus. But the orphan,'she added,'lias li ae friend to whom she can appeal, and n ever in vain.' p 'Indeed ! Who is it ?' 'God !' replied Amy, solemnly. w A long silence now ensued, broken ocisionally by the sobs of the orphan and w a impatient movement of the Count. " 'Well,' said the latter at length, as he * jse from his chair ; 'you see I am resolved, h .my; the more so as it will result in your p ltimate benefit. In less than a fortnight 11 hope to greet you as Empress.' " 'Empress !' repeated the astonished girl. a fou surely jest, my lord.' 'I never jest.' 11 'But?' t No more,' said the Count, fiercely. 'I ^ ell you I am resolved. Were your father imself to rise from the grave and seek to v irn me from my purpose, I would laugh 1 is appeal to scorn. Heaven itself?' P 'Will aid thee, Amy!' cried a voice.? J 'he door was flung open, and a man eneloped in a black cloak, which effectually 11 oucealed his features, darted into the v jom. v 'Who are you ?'* exclaimed de Moner, ' lying his hand upon his sword. P 'Your master!' was the reply. The 8 loak fell, and the tall gaunt form of the a louutebank stood revealed to the view of 8 le astonished Count. F 'Living !' he cried, starting back <Liv- a ig!' 1 'Ay, living,' replied Saint Pierre stern- a j. 'Living, and here to speak that which c ill freeze your blood, paralyze your heart, e ad make you curse the hour that brought ou into this breathing world. YouDg la- 8 y,' he continued, turning to Amy, 'leave le alone with this vile man, for I have a lat to say to him which it is unfitting you a lould hear. So, Count de Moner,' he J lid, as she left the room, 'you never expecid to see me again ?' h 'I did not,' replied the Count, as soon ll ? he had somewhat recovered from the d itonishment into which the sudden appear- h ace of the strange man whom he had so a ing deemed dead, had thrown him.? P ?ool!' he added, with a grim smile, 'to h eard me in the very place where I am all P owerful. I gave you credit for more wis- 11 am.' l< 'Of which you possess but little your- ^ ilf,' said the mountebank. 'So you are a lotting still,' he added. 'Methinks you 0 e resolved that at least one part of my P rediction shall be fulfilled.' n 'All, you should have said.' w 'There you .lie !' said the other. 'Wretch ! 0 i an hour the proofs of your villiany will ? in the hands of the Empress, and to orrow your head shall fall beneath the ce of the headman You laugh and doubt y word! Soon?oh ! soon?that smile jj ill be changed to the look of agony which tj ly man, however hardened his heart may ^ 3, must feel when he hears that the bullet C( itended for another, and discharged by his vn hand, flew wide of its mark, and o) lerced the bruin of his own?his onlyson !' ^ 'Almighty God !' cried the unhappy ^ an ; and he fell back insensible. The blow has killed him,' muttered Saint tl ierre ; and stooping down, he tore open tl is coat and laid his hand upon his heart, p; still beats, however; and after unloosen- pi g the neckcloth, the mouotebank drew a e< al from his pocket, and thrusting it be- ei ;ath the Count's teeth, poured the con- at Dts down his throat. The effect was in- tl antaneous. The nobleman opened his w 'es, shuddered slightly; and then after si me exertion rose slowly to his feet. p! 'Dead !' dead!' he muttered faintly, his en fes glassy, and his face pale, as though the rj y hand of death was upon it. ac 'Yes, dead;?slain by the hands of his th rn father,' replied Saint Pierre. <Oh ! it tii as a fearful deed ! one that an incarnate a\ md would shudder at! He fell with a y of agony that even you could not but _ ;ar; and as I raised his tender form in T y arms, and brushed back his golden bajr, tb ripping with the blood that flowed from D) is wound, methought he smiled for a mo- b< ent upon me, and I although I did not a] len know who he was?I wept. What sc illowed is quickly told. The patrol came w p and arrested me as the murderer. In w tin I told them that the shot came from a e hotel and bad been intended for me.? ger, c bey dragged me away, and for months I sameis confined in a loathsome dungeon, de- alwaj irred from breathing toe pure air of heaven their id suffering for a crime of which I was in- 'I am icent. At length I escaped, after learn- sorry g that the murdered boy was your son; a wifi id that they had searched in vain for you cuse rerywhere; and after a tedious journey 1 help i icceeded in reaching this?my native city, mean y exile is over; and I have come to take of th< e title which you bear, and which by wavei ght is mine.' be sti Yours?'cried the Count. 'Yours?' shef< Ay, mine !' cried the mountebank, draw- whicl ig himself proudly up, and gazing at the deatl ,her with so majestic an expression that dren 3 was involuntarily seized with a sudden assh< ve of the strange man who stood before 'Hon im. 'Would vou know who I am ?' he a ten mtinued. 'I am he whom twenty years Tb ro you and your cruel brother, flung from cours te ells' into the Neva; and who, aided by in eil rovidence, was rescued by a fisherman, man. id after many weary months recovered, time am he who begat you, who taught your has r ifant lips to pronounce the holy name of rest, od, who nursed you a child upon my knee. ness. anel, I am your father, Francois Gotschoff, his h ount de Moner!' his n 'My father!' repeated the Count, cling- its pi ig to the table for support. 'Yes, your father,' replied the mounte- * ink (as we shall still continue to call him) W ernly. 'Your long career of crime, Ran- geni( I, is over now. I have come to dispossess parts ou of your titles and lands, and hand you and ver to the ministers of the law, that they the 1 lay pass sentence upon and condemn you.' form r\L _:n > :J *C hnoft un, uu, yuu win uut, huiu uu iuuucr, oldly. cig81 'And why ?' 33 ar 'For the simple reason that I do not be- cut 1 eve this fine story that you have told me; P P ] plain words I look upon you as an im- a?d ostor.' The 'I see. You pretend to want proof or tatec rhat I say.' 'hat 'Oh ! no, not at all,' replied the Count, 8UCh rho felt in his heart that the mountebank' rubb ?as his father, but was resolved not to part 'be < nth the possessions which he had deemed take lis own so long. 'Your appearance in asWi ublic would perhaps create trouble, and I ?a ai ntend to avoid it if possible. It is your 'his ntention, I presume to betray me to Alex- der, nder?' 42 c It is. At first I proposed that he should boat uarry my niece, if only for the honor of sav" ieing allied to the royal blood; but that the I [ream of ambition is past now.' bad 'Well, sir mountebank,' said the Count, of P1 vith a sinister smile, 'let me tell you that thro t was dangerous for you to couie here; dan- u?lb ;erous for you to threaten me and avow T ourself; and dangerous for you to over- to tl iear the conversation between my ward and Yorl uyself. You possess some secrets of mine am^ ?hich you hope to use against me, but w?i< phich I,do not intend shall ever pass your The ips. As Minister of Police of the Em- -hou lire I arrest you, and in the name of my aDDI overeign, I command you to submit to my veot uthority. What, ho ! without there !' he caD houted, aud stamping with his foot in a leculiar manner. 'Without there ! quick !' mak nd as several of the servants rushed into ^ers he room, he pointed to the mountebank or01 nd added?'seize that man ! Bind and an e ;ag him at once so that not a word shall teDt' scape his lips !' bran 'Hold ! Villian !' cried Saint Pierre, lbau tarting forward. 'I am your?' city 'Too late!' cried the Count exultingly, s a gag was forced into the juggler's mouth *",0 nd his arms bound tightly behind him.? ^ean Saint Pierre, if you have any prayers Obi< o say, say them to-night, for to-morrow at ^rot en you will surely die ! Away with him ^00( o the imperial dungeon, and see that he ^00 oes not escape. Anon, I'll seod Pietroto ^rom im when he returns. Ah, ha ! triumph- 10 Id nt still!' he continued, as they disap- bacc 1 4 1 L il. . 1 IL!. ! O7A O earea mrougn me aoor, ana ruoDing nis ands gleefully. 'Friends betray me, I im- 000, rison them ! Foes seek to crush me, I des- 0De roy them! The dead rise from their graves j frighten me, I laugh them to scorn !? J*? 'hus do I stride to power, triumphing over 11 who seek to oppose me. Soon I shall t?rec e prime minister of the Empire, and then, 810C( erhaps aim higher still. We'll see,' he J110"' juttered, 'we'll see!' and with a laugh, rhich sounded like the hiss of a serpent, he pened the door, and left the room. . Pro BE CONTINUED.] alert of tt BUSINESS. 0f tl We always have a plea for absence from feD(j, ome?always an excuse for the late return, cie ie neglected favor, the forgotten promise, lusiness, business, is our watchword and instant cry?no time for wife, or home, gre ^ r bairns. What is divorce but the ghost |arj^ f business? It crawls along the deserted geat alls of affection, lays its cold hand on the |D eart, fixes its abstracted gaze far away om home?feels with ut slimy fingers for j0jur )ose tender heart strings?lays hold of tQ an lern?breaks them. Man and wife are j8 t: ut asunder?business stands between and j'eat arts them. They grieve, they are anger- jjejD? 1, they are divorced. Women have faults t{jat j aougb, Heaven knows ! my grumbling self gugc ;knowledges it readily; still I would be ^ leir defender in some things. We can " ork to live, but it is not necessary that we ^ lould live to work. Moreover, many a phi]] istime comes under that hydra headed C]are onster, yclept business, which has no Sacre ght to be there. I have many married throu iquaintances. I often see them linger at ajj]e j ie office long after business hours, chat- jjer ? g with some pleas-dropper-in or whiffing je(j j. vav at the silent cigar. know The tea-table is perhaps waiting at home man : -the wife perhaps watching at the door.? Amel he tardy loiterer comes at last, declaring plied, lat he was unavoidably detained by busi- Made 583. If the wife grows jealous of this burjar, which keeps her husband from her J@" 1 day long, and sends him home at night spirit i fatigued that he cannot sit up to chat, Mosc hat has he to say to her but that a man said I ith a family is forced to work; and be he succe lawyer, doctor, editor, preacher, scaven- cent! ir bricklayer, the cry ia forever the Some wives wear an apologetic look s on tbeir faces in the presence of husbands, as though they would say: sorry to be such a burden to you ; that you are so unfortunate as to have e and little ones I hope you will ex* us, we would not be here if we couli it.' And no doubt the poor woman s it?no doubt she dreams sometimes 3 deep cold rivers, which wrap their s around aching hearts and say, 'Peace, ill.' No doubt when Sunday comes, jrgets to join in that part of the litany h prays for deliverance from sadden >, and she learns to look at her ohilpityingly, and to whisper mournfully, 3 bends above them in their cradle?r r little you dream, poor darling, what rrible sorrow life is.' le fashionable woman takes a different ie. The world knows what that is; but, :her case, man is as blameable as wqTbe Bible tells as tbat there is a for all things?after marriage a man 10 right to forget there is a time for and to devote the whole of it to bunLet him count the number of times, eart beats in one da;, and make up lind to set aside a certain measure ef alsations for 'home, sweet borne/ 21 GAR-MAKING MACHINE. e have recently examined a most in)U3 machine. The machine is in two i, one for rolling the filler (the bnncb), the other for putting on the wrapper; ast, by the peculiar shape of the rollers, s the rounded end of the cigar (the ), which is put in the mouth, and the r is as easy to smoke, as nice in shape )y hand-made one. The wrappers are >om a pile (book) of leaves to the er shape by a novel cutting machine, a great number can be cut at once.? motions of the hand are perfectly fmiI, and the softness and elasticity of member, which render it capable of work, is obtained by endless bands of er moving over rollers, and which roll jigar into shape. Patents have-been n out in Europe and in this country, ell as in some portions of South Amerind the tropics At an examination of m?Ah'nA n L ? 1 uiauuiuc ob iiiduriU) (uduu ujf rujvi w?* the commission reported that it made igars io tea minutes, or 252 in one and this was manifestly so great * ig that it would have been adopted by Spanish government if that body bad other means of employing the'number ersons which such a machine would w out of employment, but it will events' be adopted in Spain, o show the value of such an invention lis country, we may state that in New k city alone there are about 20(^000 kers, each using two cigars per diem, ;h makes 400,000 cigars per day.? se will cost for labor alone about 86 per isand, the enormous sum of 88,760,000 jally, when made by hand, and the inor calculates that his machine, which be attended to by women and childrdp, produce them for 81 per thousand, ing the total cost for a year to thesmoof this city for labor, only 81,460^00, lesixth the present amount. Tins is normous saving, and deserves the ation of all who are interested in this ch of manufacture. From other States our own we import annually,-into this alone, 12,000,000 pounds of- tobacco, )h is thus distributed: Connecticut 00 cases of 4000 pounds each; Pennania 6000 cases of 400 pounds each; ^ ) 10,000 cases, of 870 pounds eaohfa^'' ii inew i orK we receive DVUU cases 01 4 ) pounds each ; we also import 6,000,- pounds from Havana, and a quantity other Spanish ports, and as we j^re that on the average 20 pounds of'to0 are required for every 1000 cigars, an easily calculate that there are 900,000 cigars made in this oity alone in year.? Scientific American. - The house of Mr. Moore, near Fort 3, York District, was burglariously en1 and feloniously despoiled, a few nights i, of a quantity of clothing, somfe ' sy, and a double barrel gun. 'Place a on the stable after the horse is gone' id on this principle no doubt Mr. Moore be more watchful, or watchful Moore v ' . Z h ture. Let every householder be on the , and we'll hear before long of some iese burglars getting the contents, not le house, but of the gun which de3 it. Such an item we would chroninth pleasure.?Sumter Dispatch. ire op the Eyes.?Looking into the 9 very injurious to the eyes, partioua coal fire. The stimulus of light aod uniting soon destroys the eyes. Lookat molten iron will soon destroy the . Reading or sewing with a side light es the eyes, as both should be exposed equal degree of light. The reason be sympathy between the eyes is so , that if the pupil of one is dilated by ? kent nartiallv in fchn ahurta nn# j r- r j ? ~7 ?s most exposed cannot contract itself iently for protection, and will ultimateinjured. Strange Encounter.?When Louis ippe and his Qaeen were in exile, in y moot, they visited the convent of the ! Coeur. The nan who conducted them igh the house was so amiable and agree* that the Queen, on leaving, expressed sxtreme satisfaction. "Perhaps," adler majesty, "you will be interested to who your visitors are. This gentleis Louis Phillippe, I am the Queen ie." The nun bowing profoundly, re, with a gentle smile, "And I am moiselle Bonaparte." : nan ' A large number of sellers of ardent s in St. Petersburg, Luthuania and ow, have failed. These failures are to have been occasioned by the great !sa of the Temperance Societies rey organised.