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* ft % 0* * ' ? . . *^v . # *- * ,. '5 ^.Z' .. , . - .. ' *r * * lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j An IndependentJournal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |$2 pee aneum in adtajtce. "VOL. 6. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 1, I860. ISTO. 44. $ ?rigtital |poctrg. For the Yorkville Enquirer. SONNET TO MISS *** Ah ! all that's beautiful e'er speaks of Love, And love e'er melts and moves in beauty ; hence This yearning deep within?this burning sense Of some soft sighing in the breast, that moves? When gazing on the tinted evening sky, And on fair fields and flowers, green vales and hills, And rock, and rivers running?and which thrills The heart, till tea.-drops gather to the eve. Oh, Love ! While thus I sit and gaze, "Rejoice In quiet peace of soul!" seems from all things To blend and breathe; and the weird whispering-? Of Memory?it's still small, witching, voice? Are moving warm and moving deep in me; And loudly speaks all loveliness of Thee ! LANG HORN. Sidney Park, Columbia. |ttt Original Sforrg. 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 XIII. "Foul devil, for God'ssake, hence, and trouble us not; For than hast made thehaDDV earth thy hell; If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries." We must now take the reader to the chamber of the dying empress. Yes, the imperial Catharine, once so despotic and so haughty, was slowly succumbing before the Great Conquerer, whose approach is dreaded alike by the king and his subject, and from whose sentence there is no appeal. The splendid couch on which she lay stood in the middle of a dark walled, gloomy looking room ; and around it, but at a little distance, were many of the nobles and ladies of the court, whose features were twisted into an expression of seeming sorrow, giviog them one and all, at that moment, a great resemblance to each other' , At the head of the bed stood a small | table, which was covered with vials; and I beside it was the empress' physicians, five in number, among them Valerian Remoul, Count de Moner's friend. The silence, which was almost apprehensive, was broken at length by the entrance of the count, who carried his portfolio under his arm as minister of police. At a sign from him Remoul, after consulting for .the sake of appearance with the other, who ' replied in the affirmative to every proposition he advanced, drew a vial from his pocket, and dropping the greater part of its contents into a wine glass, filled it half full of water; and going to the bedside, fell on his knees and whispered a few words. The empress, on hearing the voice of her favorito tnnlr the crln?? find rirflnt its vv, , .ww v..~ 5, - ? contents. In a few minutes she raised her head, and glancing around the room, asked feebly, 'Where is Paul ?' 'In his chamber, most gracious empress,' replied Remoul. 'And why is he not here at bis mother's death bed ?' she inquired hastily. 'Is he so sure the crown is his that he will not remain to close her eyes? Answer me!' she repeated 'Must we speak twice ?' 'Madame and gracious empress,' said a nobleman, one of Paul's most intimate friends, eager to avert the storm which he ootp tcn? riaincr it rden?e vnil. he WHS here a few minutes ago, but?' 'But?but!' repeated Cathariue querulously ; 'any word but that to me Step back, my Lord Parim, we have no further need of you. Kemoul, the pain is over.? We shall live yet!' The physician made no reply. 'Do you hear me, Kemoul ?' said the empress. 'We shall live yet!' 'I trust so,' faltered the physician. Catharine glanced keenly into his face, and saw therein that all hope was extinguished. 'Well, it matters not,' she said. 'Send for Paul, and draw back the curtains.? There.' r ..l. e u~i Vjuuul .rarim, lurgtsiuug nic xupiuui uei had received, stepped forward and obeyed the order, fortunately without the empress observing him. At that moment the door opened, and Paul entered. Catharine recognized his step and raised her head ? The grand-duke bent the knee and kissed her hand. 'Have you seen Henri V inquired the count, ofRemoul, in a whisper. 'No.' 'He should have been here ere this. Step to the door and see.' The physician did so and returned with Henri. * 'The packet?the certificate?' inquired the count nervously. 'Quick.' 'They are here, my lord,' replied the lad, drawing several papers from his bosom. 'I had?' 'Flush!' exclaimed the count, his hand trembling as he grasped the precious doc* ? i /I I 1 C umems, wnue ni3 eyes iiasntu are. -ouocess !' he whispered to the physician. 'No chance for failure, now! Paul is crushed, and Alexander will be emperor! Ila! ha! Now for a fitting moment to present it.' The door again opened, and the minister of state, accompanied by several secretaries bearing portfolios, entered. Approaching the bed the former kneeled and kissed the empress' hand. 'Are the papers made out as we directed ?' she asked at length. 'They are, your majesty,' replied the minister. 'And the will ?' 'Is here,' was the reply. 'It needs only your signature.' 'A pen,' said Catharine. 'Paul,' and she turned her head toward the grandduke, 'as our eldest son, the crown is yours. Our personal property we leave to our friends; this?'and she tapped the paper with her finger?' will explain to whom. See that you fulfill righteously all the bequests named herein. But remember. Paul,' she added, her thoughts recurring to the past, 'when we are dead no monument must < be placed over Leipsic's or Maria's grave, i We charge you by your oath, remember I it. My lord, the pen.' I 'Hold?a word in connection with the < Princess Maria, most gracious majesty,' . said Count de Moner, advancing to the 1 bedside and kneeling. 'What of her?' inquired the empress. 1 her brow darkening, and half rising from I the bed. 'What of our late daughter?' 1 'This,' replied the count, holding out | the certificate. 'They were married, and the proof is here.' 'Let me see it!' exclaimed the empress i fiercely, and snatching the paper from his haod. ''Fore God!' she cried, as her eyes I glanced hastily over it; 'married! and to i the Duke de Leipsic!-the witnesses ! What! ha ! what is this?these names?Charles of Leipsic, Casper Hoffman, notary?Froncois Gotschoff?and?and?Paul !?ha !?you ?you were present at the ceremony!' i The grand duke started as he heard the ; accusation. Heavy drops of prespiration ; covered his brow, and he turned deadly pale, i 'Yes?yes!' continued Catharine, gaz i ing fiercely around her; 'they were married, i and this?this son of mine was present!? I Here is his name; and yet he always denied any knowledge of it! Fool! liar!' ' she almost screamed, and tearing her grey ' locks with her hands, while her eyes gleam- < ed with a light unearthly?the courtier i i?i- -m 1 c r..i suiruug uaua wnu uuirur at tut? lt-uuui sight. 'I spit upon?I loathe you!' Madam! mother!' cried the GrandDuke, falling on his knees. 'My curse !?your mother's curse cling to you till death, Paul! May the eternal fire forever consume you! May your nights be sleepless, your days?' Hold, mother, do not curse me !' exclaimed Paul in a voice of agony. 'I am your son !' Son !' shrieked Catharine. 'No, thou art no longer a son of mine ! I spit at?I curse you ! Ha ! ha ! Paul! dying and feeble as I am, I have still power and strength enough to punish you. Ho ! there, my lord,' she continued, turning to the minister of state whom she knew to be uo friend of Paul, 'make out the warrant.? I am empress still, and have the right to name my successor. Make out the warrant.' 'For his exile, your majesty V inquired the minister, as he seated himself and eagerly proceeded to write. 1 'No?for his instant execution,' was the ' stern reply. 'But he must not die as a l grand-duke of the empire. No ! We do not. denrivo him of his nohilitv?fpnr from ( him the designation we have given him, * and consider him never to have borne our < name. No longer heir-apparent to the imperial throne, but reduced to the degra- i ded condition of a serf, let him die unhon- ' ored and unknown ; and he who seeks to plead for him, makes me his foe and shares ' his doom! Have you finished V ' 'Almost, your majesty,' replied the min- 1 ister, his pen flying like lightning over the paper. 1 ?I will not yield thus !' said Paul, rising ' to his feet and laying his hand upon his sword. 'I do dispute the justice of your 1 snntenee. and refuse to renncnize the nnw er that seeks to take from rue ray life and ' inheritance. I am your eldest sou ; and coward were I indeed, and no son of Catharine, did I tamely submit to such indignity. I will not yield?' lNntyield!' thuudered the empress.? 'What ho, there! call in the guard. The guard, I say ! the guard !' In a moment the door was flung open, and the imperial guard marched into the room, the gay colors of their uniform contrasting strangely with the dark wall and j hangings of the room. 'It is enough?I yield,' said Paul, as soon as he beheld them; and drawing his sword he broke it across his knee; and sinking into a chair, covered his face with his hands. AT n l j . at 9 : J n. A _ rtuw, uuuui ue luouer, saiu Vjaiiiarnie, turning to the Dobleman, and resolved that other lips besides her own should pronounce Paul's sentence, in order that pos-; terity might think that justice, not hatred, j influenced her conduct; 'we leave his fate to you, since you were the means of dis-1 covering his guilt. What shall it be V 'Death?instant death.' 'Ay, the sentence is a just one,' said Catharine. 'Do you give the order for his execution, while I sign the warrant. But first this certificate?take it, some of you, and buru it.' The paper was passed along the line toward the fire, and Henri, being the last, flung it into the grate. 'Triumphant!' exclaimed de Moner.? ?Ha!ha! I shall be miuister of state, at the very least! Since you have left his doom to me,' he said, turning to the empress, I will proceed with it at once.? Let a file of soldiers instantly proceed to the court yard, and prepare for the execution. Come, my lord,' and he touched. Paul on the shoulder, who instantly rose,] 'ioilow me. 'Where V said Paul, his eyes glazed, and his face fearfully pale. 'To death !' replied the count, with a smile of triumph. 'Ha! ha! I have succeeded !'and he rubbed his hands gleeful y 'Now?the pen,' said the empress, as the minister laid the death warrant of the unhappy duke before her. 'Here, your majesty,' he replied, handing it to her. Catharine grasped it tightly, and stooped to sign. But her fearful passion had quickened the disease; the pen fell from her jhand?she gasped for breath?murmured j faintly?sank back?the jaw fell, and she was no more. 'Dead!'cried Remoul. 'Dead !' repeated the courtiers. Paul started back. 'And the warrant?' he exclaimed. '/s not signed.' 'Not sighned!' repeated Paul?'not signed ! Joy ! saved ! saved 1 Ha ! ha ! Count ieMonerl'be cried, turning to the unfortunate minister of police, who stood trembling in every limb, 'you have failed ! Grouch, man, bow?lowerstill?at my feet! Nay, kneel! not to Paul the Grand-Duke, but to the Emperor !' He stood there in that room, his tall form raised to its utmost height, his broad jreast heaving with emotion, a hundred forms kneeling at his feet, his eagle eye gazing fearlessly around him. aod looking i /? i * ii .i_ _r ?ay, every men or mm?wen wormy 01 his proud position ofEmperor and Czar of all the Rus9ias. 'Mercy, sire !' exclaimed de Moner, falling on his knees, his brow white with fear, and clasping his hands. 'Mercy !' 'Ay, I'll show you mercy,' 9aid the emperor, his eyes flashing as he thought of the fearful ordeal he had just passed ? 'Such mercy, my lord, as you would have 3hown tome! Your crimes are known, your schemes have failed, your father whom you supposed to be dead, is living still, and you are now to meet your doom. Let the axe be sharpened, the block prepared, and the headsman called. Away with him ! ha! ha ! ha! Who has triumphed now?' 'Hold!' exclaimed a voice. The door was flung open, and the mountebank advanced into the room. The horror-stricken ^niint, nuailed henenth his anrrv pdanee. -j n j 0 7 ind fell at his feet. <0 father ! father !' he exclaimed wildly, 'save me from death. I dare not?cannot die ! Save me ! save me!' 'What!' cried Paul, with disgust, 'you, who played for so heavy a stake and lost, aow seek to escape the penalty ? Coward !' le said, spurning him with his foot, 'you ire not fit to live !' 'Then, my sire, he is not fit to die,' said Saint Pierre, as he surveyed the form at lis feet. The past was all forgotten now, iod nought but the thought that he was his iwn?his only sou remaining. 'Oh ! my iege !' he continued, 'have you forgotten ;he promise you made me years ago; should ?ou ever reach the hieh Dosition vou now ' o r aold, you would grant me any thing I wish?d ? Spare?spare my son then, and I will aever ask for more.' 'In heaven's name, Gotschoff!' said Paul, 'what is this you ask of me ? Spare its life? It is impossible !' ?Nay, sire, it is not much I ask,' said Saint Pierre entreatingly, 'Revoke his sen;ence, and let him be sent to the mines for ife. I've but little?a few years for reaentance, and what is one life to you ?' 'Well, be it so,' said Paul at length. 'Oo me condition alone will I spare him.' The Dount rose to his feet. 'How got you that ;ertificate from my box ?' <T-Tenri tnnlr it. ' sniri fHp Hniint rpprnrpr. .www.w og from his fright, and smiling raaliglantly as he pointed to the lad. 'What! you took it V cried the Emperor, turning to Heori, who, terrified and weepug, fell at his feet and clasped his knees. !When?' he demanded. 'When I saw you in your room, and you left me there alone,' replied the lad sobbing violently. 'And so at the very moment you kissed me?Oh, Judas like-kiss!' said Paul, 'you were devising a plan to get that paper !? Shame, Henri! shame ! I never thought that of you. But where is it?' he asked. 'I?I burnt it,' was the trembling reply. Paul staggered back. The blow was almost too much. He caught the boy by the arm with so tight a grasp that he almost screamed with the pain, and gazed wildly into his face for many moments. 'Oh, Henri! Henri!' he said at length, in a fearfully changed voice, 'what on earth could have possessed you to take that paper !' 'He?he,' said the trembling lad, pointing to de Moner, 'he told me he would make me a Count, if I got it for him.' 'A Count, indeed !' cried Paul. 'Fool ! that paper would have made you a Duke? Duke of Leipsic, hoy; and in burniog it you destroyed the proof of your legitimacy ! In the eyes of the world you are now but a natural son, a bastard ! Villain !' he continued, turning to de Moner, 'were not my word passed that you should live, I'd slay you with my own hand. IJa, what ails the boy?' he exclaimed, as Henri, overcome with the excitement of the last few rainutes. sank down insensible, while a stream of blood flowed from hig mouth. 'God ! he is dying!' 'Not so,' said Remoul' as he stooped down beside hitn. 'He ha9 burst a small blood vessel; but with care and quiet will recover.' 'Take him to my room and attend him faithfully,' said Paul. As soon as they had gone, he looked around and asked, 'Where is Alexander ?' 'At the Church of St. Paul/ replied de Moner, with another malignant smile. And what is he doing there?' inquired the Emperor, with surprise. 'Taking part in a marriage ceremony, sire,' was the reply. In an instant the whole truth burst upon the mind of Saint Pierre; and hastily takiug Paul aside, he whispered a few words in his ear. The effect was electrical. Ic a moment de Moner and the minister o! State were placed in charge of two of the soldiers, and conducted to one of the upper rooms; while the Emperor and Saiul Pierre, followed by the guard bearing torches, and the Countess, set off rapidly toward the church. Let us enter the sacred edi Gee before them, and see what is going on, Owing to the rough pavements and the darkness of the night, it was nearly an houi before the carriage in which the Luke and Amy were seated, reached the church. Ii was but dimly lighted, and the priest nol having arrived, they were obliged to wail at least half-an-hour longer. At length he entered; and more candles being lit, the church assumed a less gloomy aspect.? During the interval, Amy had not uttered one word of reproach, but sat with her handkerchief covering her eyes, and weeping bitterly. Alexander himself was much agitated; but he was resolved that the ceremony should take place. As soon as the priest had passed behind the altar, he took Amy's hand and whispered, 'Come, my love, the priest is waiting.' Amy made no reply. 'Do you not hear me?' said the Duke. 'Again I say, the priest is ready.' Still no reply. 'Amv !' said her aunt sharnlv. and errasD j - - r V r? 4 ing her roughly by the arm, 'would you have me drag you to the altar ?' 'No,' replied the poor girl, rising; 'it need not be. <Oh, Edgar, where are you ?' and she again wept. There was a long pause. 'Are you coming or not ?' exclaimed the lady again. 'No, no !' cried Amy; 'you have not the heart to do this thing! Hear me!' she exclaimed, looking wildly around her. 'I will not wed this man. No power on earth shall make me, for I do not love him.' 'The priest, who had reoeived his instructions from the Count, opened his book. 'It is your guardian's wish,' he said mildly> 'But not mine,' said the orphan. ?I will I not be his wife ; I do not love him.' Foolish girl!'exclaimed her aunt; 'must I call the Count V Amy shuddered on hearing the words, and looked irresolute. 'It is needless,' 6he said, with a deep sigh. 'The sin bo on your heads;' and she advanced to the altar. At this moment the door opened, and Edgar rushed into the church. He had been absent when the attendant reached his house, which as we have said before, was close to the church; and was but just returned. One glance told him every th ing; and as he advanced up the narrow aisle, he shouted in a voice of thunder, whicfc thrilled deeply through the heart of the poor girl? 'Hold! I forbid this marriage to proceed !' Startled at the commanding tone of the speaker, and not k nowiog but that he might have been sent by his father, Alexander released his hold of the girl, and turned I toward him. 'Who are you ?' he exclaimed, 'and bj what right do you forbid the marriage.' 'What right!' cried Edgar. 'The right that the stag has to defend his hind?the right of the strong to defend the weak?the right of the lover to defend his mistress !? She is my betrothed !' 'Ah ! you presume to dictate to me!' said Alexander, bis brow kindling with anger. 'Ho, there, men !' he exclaimed, 'seize hiui; and when the ceremony i3 over I will rtVioefiaa hia nrooii mnhnn 1' Beware !' saicl Edgar, as the servants sprang toward him ; and drawing his sword he sternly waved them hack. ?I am armed and desperate ; and 'twere better for you tc feel a serpant's fangs than my sword's edge My lord,' and he turned to the Duke, 0 see you wear a weapon by your side; il you have the heart of a man, draw and de dend yourself!' 'So be it.' said Alexander, who was nol devoid of courage ; and who having beet taught the science of fencing by Counl Waukoff, than whom there was no bettei master in the empire, resolved to put ar end to the scene at once by killing his op Donent. The blades were crossed and ? r pass parried, when the door was dashed open, and a loud voice exclaimed, 'The Emperor !' 'My father!' cried the Duke, dropping the point of his sword, as Paul followed bj the imperial guard and others, entered th< church. 'Ah, your father,' said the Emperor sternly, as he strode up the aisle, and fix> ing his eagle eye upon the face of tb< guilty son. '0, well you may turn pale and your limbs tremble,' he added, as the Duke cowed beneath his piercing gaze 'for I am now your sovereign as well as pa rent. No words, sir; the mountebanl has told me everything. Retire at once t< your estate; and when your conduct de serves it, we will recall you.' Alexander started at the emphasis whicl his father laid upon the royal word, and kneeling, he kissed his hand. 'But what docs this mean ?' said Paul : gazing with surprise at the bare blades i rcliioh flio onhnPiiniDtD fswrml tA OIIAA^A n ikuu viiv aunugvuigio uau lUlgUU (iU OllCabUC 'Swords drawn and in our presence ?' 'It means this, sire,' said Edgar, kneel 1 ing at his feet. 'This young lady?' anc he pointed to Amy?<is my betrothed.? I We have loved each other from our earli I est years, aud have ever looked forwarc I with joy to the day that shall make us one. And here in a few brief sentences he ex i plained everything, speaking in a calm bu I respectful tone ; for he doubted not tha i his imperial master would right the wrong But there was no look of sympathy upon thi i Emperor's cold, hard face; he felt indig nant that a sword should be drawn agains 1 his 'son, and by a common soldier. Si when the young man had concluded, hi turned to the guards and bade them seizi him. i 'I'll teach the serfs to raise their hand; against their masters,' he said, harshly.? i lTo morrow's sun shall see you on you i way to Siberia for life. Let all look to it, f he added, glancing around him with a kind : ling eye, 'soldiers as well as peasants. Si bcria is not full yet!' 'Sire, I am no serf,' said the young man rising, and drawing himself proudly up.? 1 'I am a soldier of the empire, and bear ai honorable name. Ask those who knov me, and see if I speak not truly. Look a : me?my breast! 'tis marked with the scar ' of wounds received in the service of m; 1 country. You'll find them here in froDt? t none on my back ! And this, sire, this i t my reward.' t 'But you dared to raise your hand agains i my sou,' said the Emperor, wonderinj where he had heard that voice before. 'Is it a crime, sire, for a man to defend her whom he loves V said the soldier.? 'By heaven !' he exclaimed, 'I am ashamed that I even drew my blade, in defence of a country that rewards like this ! There, my liege, is my sword,' he added, drawing the weapon from its sheath and laying it at Paul's feet. 'And now,' he continued proudly, 'lead on ! I care not whether it be to death or exile.' ?By all the saints!' cried the Emperor, ?I believe he is other than he seems ! Let him be searched instantly.' TKo ..r^ar moa rkhntrnrl flifl trmmrr man "V ? ?'? "??> J fa coloring deeply at the indignity; and a number of articles were taken from him end laid before Paul, who glanced cursori, ly at them; and was abont to turn away, when one object in the heap caught his eye. 'Where got you this ?' he inquired, taking it up and moving a step forward.? 'Where got you this pocket-book ?' 'That, sire, was given to me in Rome a few months since by a countryman whose life I saved.' 'Indeed 1' replied the Emperor, smiling. Then tearing open his shirt he drew back a step, and pointing with hit finger, asked, 'Do you remember this scar?' Sire!' 'My friend!' And they were clasped breast to breast, the haughty Emperor and the humble soldier. Tears of joy rolled down Edgar's cheeks, for he knew that all would go well now. And he was right; for as soon as he had somewhat recovered from his emo Inn Pfttil A m T7 TTflQ r 1 n CT MU1JI * " b b wonderingly at the strange scene, and said a few words to her in a low voice. The reply was a deep blush j and the Emperor, seating himself, bade the ceremony proceed. 'But the bride and bridegroom, where are they V inquired the trembling priest. 'Why, there!' replied Paul, with a laugh, and pointing to Edgar and Amy.? 'Go on with the ceremony, and I will give the bride away/ be said, gaily, 'One mo ment/ and he addressed a few words to a I secretary who stood near him, and who in ; stantly withdrew. The marriage was soon over; and the secretary returning, handed I the Emperor a paper, which, unseen by any one, he placed in the pocket-book. ' <1 presume you do not care about keeping this?' he inquired with a smile, and : holding it up. i 'Nay, sire,' said Edgar, eagerly, ?I would i not part with it for anything 1' Take it then,' said the Emperor; 'it is yours. Within it you will find the writings ' that make you the equal of this young la. dy. She brings you land and wealth i and beauty in exchange for your title ; and ! hereafter let all men greet you as a Count of the Empire, and Colonel of the Imperii al Guard. Guards, salute your Colonel!' I A deafening cheer greeted the young 1 man as he bowed lowly to them ; and at a i sign from him all kneeled and made the arches of the old church ring with the cry, [ 'Long live the Emperor !' r * On the following morning Ranel Gotscboff, stripped of his titles and decorations, t and an iron ball fastened to his leg, enteri ed the cart that was to convey him to Sill beria. But he never reached there ; for a p week afterward, as he was lying asleep in i the guard house, where his conductors had . stopped to pass the night, he was shot i through the heart. The murderer was never I discovered; but as Ivan Orsino, now one of the imperial guard, was frequently heard to boast that he had avenged his early love, r it was strongly suspected that he knew more j of the affair than any one else. But he > was never questioned; and so in a little while the murder was forgotten. ) Jean Saint Pierre, (as we still delight to call him,) now Duke de Viovich, gener5 ously bestowed the lands of de Moner on Henri; but the poor lad lived but a few > months to enjoy them. At his death they ! were given to Ivan Orsino, to the great surprise of every one; and he lived long : and happily to enjoy the title. 5 And now my gentle readers, one and all, allow me to take you by the hand, and whisper in your ears that mournful word 1 which, next to home, sweet home, lingers ' latest in the memory, and which has been pronounced by all, save those who, friend' less and heartless, have no one to love.? ' Beautiful is our Saxon tongue; but it has ' no word so liquid, so soft, and so thrilling, as the one I now speak of, the sweet and - simple word?Farewell! 1 THE END. J LINES'-BY H. M. C. J Suggested by a conversation with a lady, who, when asked, "How could life be best enjoyed, when its pleasures were but transitory," replied: ' "Let's be happy while we may, ? What's the use of sighing? Life is but a Summer day, To-morrow we'll be dying." ' Oh ! why do we meet, if early to part ? Oh! where is the bliss untinged with alloy ? t How cruel is fate, to tear from the heart 3 The presence beloved, that thrilled it with joy! 3 Oh ! why do we love, if only to lose 3 The idol the soul so fondly enshrines, While, day after day, each moment renews The links of the chain affection entwines ? 3 . Oh ! why do we smile, if 90 soon to sigh ^ For pleasures once gone we no more can Know : f Oh ? why should we live ??far better to die, When thoughts of the past o'erwhelm us with woe. Oh ! why do we linger so long on the way That leads to a rest, but found in the grave, , While friend after friend is passing away, Each moment of time, like wave after wave f 1 Aye, thus is the world 1 yet why should we care ? 1 At grief let us smile?'t is folly to sigh. (. Why pine for the past??for the future why fear? To-day let us laugh?to morrow we die. p Tho' such be life's joys?all fleeting and vain ; Tho' baneful the flowers that bloom on the way, 0 Let's gather, and wear them, in spite of the pain They leave in the breast when faded away, t The Retreat, Richland, S. C. 5 * Originally published In the Oo CHANT, in 1699. j&Ieriefo gltstrflimi).1 From tbo Edgefield Advertiser. THE SERENADE. Time was, when a serenade enstamped its oeonrrenne nnnn the hearts of its hear ? -1 ? ? era with a mystic power, and left an impressioD that long remained a cherished reminiscence. Because then, in the moonlight of nature and of sentiment, the object of the serenader was to impart the charm ^ of melody to the gradually awakening perception of some fair friend or lady-love; and before she bad become fully conscious I that it was only a thing of time and sense, the music and its agents stole off through { the shadows of the "stilly night," as softly j as they ba^approached the honored case- j ment. Think not that we speak of the semi-fabulous days of the troubadours. It j is only a quarter of a century ago, and even j here, in this (then) 'loveliest village of the ^ plane,' that serenaders knew their duty, and ' knowing, dared pursue it. Never can we t forget a certain night in the 'Long, long ago,' when the gentle breathings of two { flutes in perfect unison first awoke our ap preciation or tne true oia-styie serenaae. It came upon our dreaming fancy like sounds from heaven; and, despite the vicissitudes of life, it lingers with memory still. And after that, many and many a night did we walk the exciting rounds of this agreeable privilege as an assistant to those who had thus inspired us with their notions of the beautiful. The aim and purpose of a serenade in those days, was to honor and please the delicate taste of woman ; and, to do this effectually, we were taught that the most profound respect and chastened caution should direct our efforts. Thus it happened, that every pre-arrangement was as secret as darkness itself, and that a serenade came and went like the sweet south wind to be enjoyed during its stay for its balmy gentleness, and to be cherished afterwards for the romantic coloring of respectful gallantry which tinged its every feature. ( We are sorry to think this good old style is becoming obsolete. Tbat it should do ( so, is a mark of degeneracy in the taste and ( temper of the times. Yet it is too true, j that in this respect a great change has come over the spirit of our dreams. The , blatant horn aud the rattling drum have dis- j placed the gentle flute and the light guitar. ] And serenades are now used to flatter coarse men more than to gratify the refined feelings of woman. If it must be, tbat this beautiful custom is to be thus desecrated, it is perhaps proper that the shrill cornet and coarse bassoon should be the executors of the ohange. If wrangling politicians, and not lovely women, are to be the chief recipients of these favors, let brass pander 1 to brass j?it is right enough iu that aspect of the matter. But we sternly and uncompromisingly object to any such abominable degradation of this ancient observance.? We stand forward with one hand upon our 1 heart and the other pointing to the silvery 1 Goddess of the night, and we claim The Serenade as the sole and exclusive right of 1 woman, dear woman. Monsters that ye 1 are,?gross perverters of a long established 1 usage?whoever ye be that corrupt this once beautiful custom by turning it to the ignoble ends of political applause,?we 1 demand, in the name of all the terrestrial angels whose privileges you are thus infringing, that you stop in your nefarious and vulgar career. The domain of The Serenade, is woman's prerogative :? "Hence avnunc, (us noiy grouna; Comus and his inid night crew !" Bat more than this, we demand that a speedy return be made to the chaste simplicity of this ancient custom. We call upon all young men of taste to eschew course music for any purposes of The Serenade. We call upon you to cultivate, instead, the gentler and more sentimental instruments; to refine your own vocalization,?and this, decently conducted, is an elegant adjunct of The Serenade ; to study the true proprieties of this time-honored practise; to let all know that you are not to be paid off for your complimentary tributes in cake and wine, but that your gallantry is held above such paltry valuation; and in short, to restore The Serenade to its primitive form and mode. Although we allude to this matter in a half-jesting tone, it is in truth a social desideratum. The reform we indicate is needed as a thing of decency. It is needed to cultivate a high and chival rous inter-sexual sentiment. And more than all, it is needed to give lovely woman her due in a manner suited to her high graces of body and soul. Business Men Pause and Think? Your All is at Stake !?The election of Lincoln is honestly dreaded by the South as an evil so insufferable as to cause it to look at the dark portals of secession as a refuge, just as a man oppressed by grief and despair contemplates the grave?while no man at the North has any fears in regard to any interest or any right, should Lincoln be defeated. But if Black Bepublicanism, by its aggressions, forces secession on the South, it to nil a mistake to suDDOse that the South will be the only sufferer. Indeed, the North will be the great sufferer. How, we will now proceed briefly to show. The North can furnish the South nothing which she cannot get elsewhere on better terms. A separation will cut off the entire Southern demand for all Northern articles, and the North can nowhere else find customers to be substituted for the South. The South will still have customers for all that it bas to sell, and the North, which cannot possibly do without Southern cotton, rice, tobacco, tar, turpentine, lumber, &c., would have to purchase them at advanced rates. Now the North pays its European debts with Southern produce sent to Europe, with the proceeds of which the South purchases from the North and gives he* bills on Europe. In case of secession, and of ;he South beiog supplied from Europe, vhere will the North get fuuda to pay her European debts? She will have to send ler specie, and then what will be her conlition ? The immense freights now given )y the North to Northern ships would be ost by secession. Why will the North, by its cruel and inwarrantable aggressions on the South, ender that dreadful alternative?secession ?an only mode of safety ? Would you seek to retain the South by 'iolence ? Read the words of Edward Evirett: "The suggestion that the Union can be naintained by the numerical predominance ind military prowess of one section, exered to coerce the other into submission, is, n my judgment, as self-contradictory as it s dangerous. It comes loaded with the leath-smell from fields wet with brothers' )Iood If the vital principle of all repub ican government is 'the consent of the governed,' much more does a union of co;qual sovereign States require, as its basis, he harmony of its members and their volmtary co-operation in its organic func,ions." But suppose the North, willing thus to nake the earth smoke with brothers' blood, lo you not know that cotton and tobacco ire too important to England and France :or them to allow their production to be jurtailed ? Your cities would fall beneath ;heir bombardments, mere masses of ruin. England having accomplished the longjherished aim of her hate and rivalry, our ieparation and our weakness, would be satsfied by having us a standing beacon to aer own people against Representative government; and European monarchs, no onger fearing our example and influence, svould wish us to remain unharmed further, that we might be their dependant custo mers. The very men of the North who jcout the idea of secession by the South, under trials far more aggravating than all that the colonies ever endured from England, and ten-fold more than any people in Europe would endure from equals, would themselves resist a tithe of such offences. When the North, by its exactions, its iggre83ions, and its violation of Constitutional rights, drives the South to secession, it will, by its own heedless act, cut itself uff from the great source of its wealth, power and prosperity. It will be the guilty and uncommisserated author of its own ruin.?Philadelphia Pennsylvanian. SWEARING. Howard, the philanthropist, was standing in a crowd by the door of a post-office, when a man uttered a volley of oaths.? 'Look to your pockets!' cried Howard, buttoning up his own tightly ; 'always take care of your pockets when you find yourself amongst swearers. He who will take God's name in vain will think little of taking your purse, or doing anything else that is evil.' A worthy clothier in Edinburg was accustomed, previous to engaging his clerks to put the question to them directly, 'Do you swear??if so, you need not think of entering my house. I permit none to talk to my customers whose tongues are set on 6re of hell.' A few vears since, two soldiers at Chat ham laid a shilling wager which could 3wear the most oaths in five minutes. As the winner (what a misnomer!) was ottering his last he was struck speeehless with paralysis, and remained so till he died. A barge-master was casting off his boat from a pier in the Thames. A person very civilly asked him whither he was going.? Being in a bad humor (swearers generally are,) he shouted out, 'What is that to you? I am going to the devil.' Ere half an hour had elasped his 'idle words' were verified. A steamer ran his barge down, and the shock of the collision pitched him head foremost into the river. I have read a dreadful story of a sick man, a swearer, who was infuriated with his doctor, and so strained himself, that he ruptured a blood-vessel. But even oaths flowed with the crimson tide from his mouth, and he expired so. A youth scarcely twenty was riding a skittish horse. The horse started ; the youth was annoyed; and swore loud and strange oaths that he would thrash him till he repented of it. But as he raised his whip, the horse reared and threw him against a picket fence : and when the bystanders ran to him, he was a corpse. His oaths were still echoing through the woods as his soul was ushered into the immediate presence of God. An American planter bad a favorite domestic negro (an Uncle Tom) who was bidden to stand opposite to him, and to wait at table. Whenever his master took the name of God in vain, as he often did), the old African made a low and solemn bow. On being asked why he did so, he replied, ?Massa, I can never hear that great name but it fills my whole soul with fear and trembling.' The master was touched, and reformed. General Washington, when Commanderin-Chief of the United States armies, issued a special order of the day, calling on all i-oni-Q tn ohafnin from it on Dain of severe lauu? tW ? ? - - X' penalties; and he took care that these penalties were enforced. It is interesting to know that when St. Paul's Cathedral was building, Sir Christopher Wren, the architect, caused a printed notice to be affixed to the scaffolding, threatening with instant dismissal an; workman guilty of swearing within those Bacred precints. 'My lads,' said a Christian captain to the orew when about to take oommand of the ship, 'I am going to ask of you a favor which, as a Briton, I expect will be granted by a crew of Britons. What say you, my lads, are you willing to grant your new captain a favor ?' 'Ay, ay 1' shouted all hands; let us be told what it is.' 'Well,'my lads, it is that you allow me to swear the first oath in this ship; no man on board must swear till I do. What say you, my lads, will you grant me this favor V The jolly tars stared, and stood for a moment quite at a loss what to say. 'They were taken,' as one of them described it, 'all aback.'? 'They were brought up,' as another described it, 'all standing.' The appeal seemed so reasonable, and the manner of the captain so kind and prepossessing, that a general burst from the ship's company answered, 'We will, sir!'?Epis. Recorder. What we Learned by the Late E- . clip8e.?The solar eolipse of Jnly 17, 1860, was more thoroughly observed than any other that ever occurred. In addition to the great number of trained observers , t who were scattered along the line of its path, from the State of Oregon to Egypt, the new art of astronomical photography lent its powerful aid towards obtaining a complete history of the phenomena. In former total eclipses, when the son was completely hidden by the moon, while still brighter objects, appearing like protuberances, were seen extending into the corona, there had been mnch discussion among astvAnAmnvc in ro/vovrl fn fKoao ennooron/inc bivuvuivio iu iv^uiu KV IUWOV rA ' some believing that they were produced by the action of the earth's atmosphere on the sun's light, others attributing them to the moon, and others still to the son. Hopes had been for some time entertained that the eolipse of this year would afford observations which would settle these questions. These hopes have not been disappointed. The corona is a luminous atmosphere of the son, brighter than the face of the rooou, gradually becoming fainter as the distance from the sun increases, till it fades awnjf in the sky without any defined limit, but visible at least five hundred thousand leagues from the body of the sun. The red protaberances are luminous floating clouds, floating in the shining atmosphere, all of them pretty near the surface of the sua.-* . It is a curious fact that some of these clouds ^ impressed their image on the photograpl^o *rr paper, though they could not be seen through with powerful telescopes. This fact is explained on the supposition thatthey may have emitted a deep violet light, mostly composed of chemical rays. Good Advice.?Those who wish to do good, but hesitate to do it, would do well.to read the following. The reason may be suggested to them by the perusal: Do not delude yourself with the idea that you can please everybody. Who ever knew anybody that was worth anything that had, nobody to find fault with him ? You would1 have to do evil in many cases to please the evil; flatter some to gratify their pride; indulge the selfish, submit to the tyrannical, be a tool for the ambitious, and be careful not to have anything as good as those who desire to have everything superior to their neighbors. If you are a publio man, shoul^, you be diligent, you must expect to hav* many secretly dislike you and talk against you, for your success; and if you accomplish little, though) many' show themselves friendly, it often leaks out that some who onnaoF rtlaaaanf tn unn /ton /In tVina hoAMIRA pj/pvc. p.? ? ? ? ? ! they do Dot fear yoar rivalry?tbey may smile upoD you outwardly, and yet entertain contempt for your inefficiency. Al~ ways do that which is right, be diligent, do the most you can, pay no regard tp jaglt^ finders, and you will find as many frieftds vsr"* any sensible man may need desire. Slippery People.?There is a class W people who resemble eels in their manner otj. going through life. ( They are your smooth** people who slip through the hand wheir& you attempt to catch them, and leavOyou wondering how they could have escaped. & The hand of morals, law, or right fa9s:tcr-?hold them, and yet they seem to recognise them all. A bargain with such men al-*^ ways results in their gain; there is some loop left for them to hang an advantage oh^ something that will redound to their particular glorification and profit. They are splendid managers of benevolent institutions, occupy nigh places in the moral world?for such are not those meu^rho get caught; and if they get caught^. they manage to slip through; are great on mortgages, lend money on the right sort of security, and never lose, and whichever way they fall they alight all right. They are politicians, and always manage to be on the winning side. In life they are unexception- ? able, with characters excellent. But they are slippery, nevertheless, and even wfiile praising them, as men may, in their shortsightedness, and they wriggle through to the end, the veil will be lifted, and the time that tries all do justice to them.:. JSP* Among the Acul mountains there has been found, in an old house, a bust of Lord ? Nelson. It is of white marble, somewhat v stained by time and neglect Nelson is represented in his costume of Admiral, and bears on his breast five decorations. One in commemoration of the battle of Abourir, bus the inscription : 'Rear Admirable Lord Nelson of the Nile/ Another medal bears the words: 'Almighty God has blessed his * Majesty's glory.' This bust, interesting in its artistic and historical associations, was fonnd on an altar devoted to the fetish worship, where for half a century it has been reverenced as the Deity of the Mountain Streams. The names of the sculptors were 'Coals and Lealy, of Lambeth/ Thus for fifty years a bust of an English Admiral has been worshiped as an heathen idol.? The finder of the statue has refused an offer of $500 for it. A GOOD REASON FOR LAUGHTER.4?A spendthrift was once laying awake in bed, when he saw a man enter his room cautiously, and attempt to pick the look of his writing-desk. The rogue was not a little disconcerted at hearing a loud laugh from the occupant of the apartment, whom he supposed asleep. 'Why do you laugh?' asked the theif. <1 am laughing, my good fellow,' said the spendthrift, to think what pains you are taking, and what risk you run, in hope of finding money by night in a desk where the lawfnl owner can never find any by day ?' The thief vanished at onoe.