Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, October 24, 1867, Image 1
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LEWIfr5..,^IST' i ^ |n^kut jfnaiiip Mrespfi-r: /orotic ^rcnu-ticn of thf political, Serial, Agricultural aitb Ctmutttrtial Interests of % jfafr ^ ^ .
VOL. 13. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 34, 1867. IETO/36.
JUi (Original fjtonwlettr.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
THE WEALTH OF HOME.
A STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE.
BY MRS. M. A. EWART,
AUTHORESS OK "ELLEN CAMPBELL, OR KINO'S
MOUNTAIN," AND OTHER STORIES.
CHAPTER IV.
In the suburbs of the city, stood a beautiful little
cottage, simple and unpretending, yet evidently
tliA Linm(> nf refinement and taste. The cottage
was set back from the gate, deep in the shadow of
two noble beeches. On either side of the gate
stood the trunks of two former trees, now covered
with ivy, and arched overhead by the clinging ev- '
ergreen. A broad gravel walk led up to the boose,
and a low box-tree edging bordered either side.
Over the piazza, clustered the rich chromatella, ]
the prolific lamarque, intertwined with jessamine i
and sweet honey-suckle ; and on cither side of the
door, was a little flight of dark green steps, covered
with beautiful geraniums and other hot-house
plants. In the garden around, and beyond, every i
variety of the lovely queen of flowers clustered
and climbed. From the piazza you entered into a <
broad passage, on either side of which were rooms i
terminating in deep bay windows. The furniture i
was rigorously simple, but neat and even elegant
in its perfect adaptativeness, and its beautiful ar- i
rangement A rose-wood piano, without oover, i
was open, and some loose music scattered over it; ,
and a guitar, with its long ribbon lying loosely over j
the strings, rested near the piano, A little work- |
table was drawn out in the floor, and a cloud of \
vapory muslin rested, partly on it, partly on the ,
ingrain carpet, ofArabasque pattern, with its white j
ground and green figures. The soft April wind j
lifted the siniple lace curtains which hung just to |
the floor, and filled the room with its fragrant '
breath, while it was made perfectly vocal by the ]
little songsters singing from their cages in the open i
windows. A settee of maple, painted a creamy f
white interspersed with green, chairs aad table to
match, was the substantial furniture of the room.
On the table were a few books, a large crystal bottle
of some novel perfume, and a vase of beautiful
spring flowers. Indeed, flowers were the decoration
of the apartment The fire place was filled
with a vase of scarlet geraniums. There were
flowers on the mantel, and on triangular shelves in
each angle of the room. The walls were papered
with a delicate paper of silver ground, with a feint
green cord running zig-zag through it A few
paintings relieved the expanse of paper, chiefly
landscapes of an imaginative cast There was,
though, a female head of ethereal beauty, and a
Grecian one of divine but provokingly indeterminate
loveliness. An oval mirror, not veiy large,
hung in such a position that a reflection of the
person could be obtained from none of the ordinary
sitting places of the room. Two light and
graceful hanging shelves, with creamy edges, to
match the color of the sofa and chairs, and hung
with green silk cord with white and green tassels,
sustained several volumes of elegantly bound books.
This completed the furniture of the room, except
a hanging lamp with ground glass shade, which
depended from the ceiling by a slender silver chain.
An enormous Newfoundland rested his silken
sides on the mat at the front door, and a beautiful
greyhound stood half-enioying the picture of luxurious
repose. After awhile the sweet placid face
of Mrs. Carter appeared at the door. She looked
out wistfully. Leo arose, shook his great shaggy
sides, and stood by her. She patted him uncon- ,
sciously. Suddenly, Ponto pricked his ears and ?
bounded down to the gate. It was hastily opened j
and two lovely little girls almost fell over him; f
then laughing gleefully, ran up the path. A tall ^
( and finely formed girl stooped a moment to caress |
him, then carefully closed the gate and followed ]
the children. She took off the little gipsey hat j
she had been wearing, and now we can fairly see ]
her. ]
That face we have seen before; but how idealized ]
it has now become. Her pale golden hair was (
drawn in clustering curls from her face, knotted in '
a bunch behind, and fell in light aiiy ringlets over ,
her curls. The face was fair, very fair, and classi
cally beautiful; the mouth gentle and sweet; the |
eyes darkly blue, soft and dove-like. Lovely as the i
face unquestionably was, its loveliness was not its ,
greatest charm, but its inexpressible sweetness. ,
Her movements were slow, graceful, and languidly ,
dignified.
"Have you been looking for us mother?" said
Annie Carter; and the voice was strangely low and
sweet, though the enunciation was perfectly clear
and distinct.
"I was, daughter, though not anxious. I knew ,
Katie and Bessie were safe. with you.'' .
Annie smiled?a smile so full of affection?then ,
said, ,
"John was not quite ready to come, and we j
walked slowly, hoping he would overtake us, but ,
he did not come. I expect he will wait for father. (
But where is Janie ? Is she not home yet ?" (
"No," said Mrs. Carter, uneasily. "Theschool j
is dismissed, I know; for I saw some of the little ]
girls pass here nearly an hour ago?but what keeps
Janie, I cannot say."
Annie started. ,
"An hour ago, mamma! Then I will go and ,
meet her. J ust wait till I arrange the tea table, ,
and I will walk up the road for her."
"No daughter; it is late. If you go, you had
better go at once. I will attend to supper," said
Mrs. Carter.
"You shall do no such thing mamma," said Annie,
with pretty peremptoriness. "Have I not
often told you that you are the queen-bee of our
little working household, and you shall not go among
the nurse bees and workers?shall she, Bessie?"
"Indeed, no mamma," said Bessie; "but there
is Janie now, and with the same gentleman she
? - i ? n
was with yesteraay.
Janie stopped at the gate and stood conversing
gaily; then the gentleman took her hand to say
good bye. It was lingeringly said, and the hand
reluctantly yielded. Janie came slowly up the
path, singing in a humming tone?
"If a body meet a body"?
Then seeing her mother, she sprang up the steps,
threw her arms around her neck, kissed her on either
cheek, called Bessie and Katie for a romp,
and was off like a happy child as she was.
"Janie, Janie," said Mrs. Carter, as Janie, fairly
exhausted from her wild scamper, sank upon
the steps, "You might be tired of your teaching
all day, without running yourself to death when
you get home."
"Dear mamma," said Janie, "that's what I run
for. The pressure would kill me, if I had not a
safety valve. Katie and Bessie are my life preservers?but,
grandissimo! where is Willie ? Come
here, you little mercury?now fly.'' And away she
went after the little toddling thing, in a perfect
paroxysm of laughter, at his unwieldy motions.
"Janie, will you never be sober?" said Mrs.
Carter, laughing at the plethoric little fellow's earnest
endeavors to escape, and Janies' ludicrous
feints to catch him.
"Sober! mamma?
<1 see how folk live that hae riches,
Bat surely poor folk maun be wretches ?'
Let me enjoy myself as I will. Do we not call the
volcano beautiful, wondrously, grandly, terribly
beautiful, but do not stir its hidden wrath ? Its
throes are there, though Beeming to rest from all
but mad play, and you do not know but in the very
moment of curious wonder, it may burst forth and
engulph all the rich verdure of its mountain side.
Let me be, mother; do not question why I weep or
why I smile, it but stirs all the hidden passions
of my souL'' Her cheek was burning and her eyes
flashing. ]
"Who was that with you, Janie?" said her i
mother, scarcely understanding the capricious girl.
"Who? The young man at the gate?" said
she, coloring. "Oh I that was 'the glass of fash- <
ion and the mould of forman expressed edition
of Chesterfield, the man who j
" in a ftoilc daft, I
To Hague or Calais take* a waft,
To male a tour and take a whirl, I
To learn bon-ton and see the wurl."
"Do, Janie, be sensible. Who is he?" j
* "Sensible, mother? The fates forbid. It would ]
be the death of ine in less than a week. ~ But "<
where is Maggie?" said Janie hurriedly. I
"She is not home yet," replied Mrs. Carter, sad- ]
ly. "I fear Maggie is doing too much. She looks ]
sad and worn." '
Janie sighed. ]
"What a year this has been, mother! I think (
Let, if wrvwA knailftAllltr fVian QfltT nf 1
?664? ,lftJ IA/IUO lb luuig ugouuuuiy uuuu wu^ w? j
?? f?
US. I
"I don't know, daughter," said Mrs. Carter,
caressingly. "You have all surpassed my fondest f
expectations. God has indeed 'blessed our losses,' f
and poverty has been but the refiner's furnace.'' ^
"I do not think any of us felt it like Maggie, 1
though," said Janie. "Her very nature demands i
the repose that wealth alone can give, and she has c
ever lived in such an atmosphere of exquisite re- i
Snement What a blessiugMr. Newton was to us,
mamma!" said she, with one of her rapid transi- s
tions ; for her mind was so active she seldom discussed
one subject fully ere another chain of thought j
forced it out Speech, to her, was like the ham- i
mer on heated iron, every blow sent off sparks, r
bright and burning with elements of fresh power, a
'You remember, when we left our beautiful home,
low he came to us?how sweetly he spoke of light J
n darkness; how he contrasted the pleasures of r
his world with the heavenly joy ? How he told a
is of God's people being a suffering people; spoke I
)f the Egypt we had left, and the wilderness we a
vere now in; and then directed us so beautifully to I
hat 'promised land,' that 'Canaan,' to which God l
vas leading us! And when you said it was hard t
or your children's sake, to be deprived of your I
comforts, how gently he told us of God's favorites, s
Vloses had no comfort, and he loved the children
)f Israel as dearly as you your flesh and blood, for (
le said at one time, 'Blot me out of thy book also, t
f these children go not up.' David had no com'ort,
though the man after God's own heart Jere- t
niah had none. Paul, the great Apostle of the t
? ? t i i * r i
jrentUes, none. L'hrist, our blessea L?ora ana iuas- c
;er, none ; and could we, the followers, expect r
nore than our great Head ? But you were sweet- t
y won, dear mother, and your cross has been
aorne so patiently. I know it was your example '
wrought father in, for he said that you taught him l
jo 'credit the invitation and trust the promise.1 I 1;
>ften wonder how Mr. Newton ever did talk to i
Maggie. You know she was the first to act, and l
vhile we were weeping and idling and mourning, v
ihe was working. How firmly she managed Katie a
ind Bettie; and even little Willie was afraid of her. t
[ think, mother, sometimes you thought her too h
lard. Not that Maggie was severe, for she never f
corrected them with the rod, but her punishments c
vere so sure and so just, that I often felt inclined 4
jo quarrel with her want of indulgence. You re- t
?llect how vexed I was one day, when expostula- e
;ing against some severe measure with Katie for a t
jery trifling offence?iudeed, I called it a piece of i
ipirited independence in the the child, not only s
ustifiable but praiseworthy. She said with that [
inn dignity of hers, and with a pedantry which \
vas not pedantic, but only justifying, 'Janie, let c
ne commend to you the 8th chapter of Ethics by a
Maimonides. You will there find that temerity s
s not valor, nor impudent daring true courage, a
Do not teach Katie to think that a hotspur is a a
iero, or that impudence makes a heroine. You s
Dut teach that a dangerous extreme of temper is r
superior to a true and obedient submission.' 1
rhough tempted strongly from mere perverseness, \
to take up the gauntlet against her Jewish Rabbi,
[ quietly deferred to her firmness and decision. I j
bell you, mamma," said Janie, with a bright look, (
"I believe Maggie's determination to suffer and be ,
strong was one of her weakest points. I have it c
now?that's it," said Janie, snapping her fingers ^
as she gave an emphatic nod, "Maggie was going to
be the Atlas of our household. She would not 1
even allow the Hercules of my desire, to ease her
of her load; no, not for all the golden apples in
the garden of the Hesperides. Well, Mr. Newton
taught her she was not reaching the attainments i
she desired. Creature duty was one thing, sub- t
mission another; to do was noble, but to suffer
was divine; and now, instead of that creature du- (
ty, she has a submission calm as rest She ac- ,
knowledges that to suffer the will of God requires j
more grace than to do His will in more prosperous ]
circumstances. I think Mag's cross now, is across <
? - * ? i n i {
'jf jewels. She bears ltwitn sucn a mgn ana noiy ,
faith. You recollect, mother, those beautiful (
lines? ?
8ome other cro???" ^
"I do, my daughter, and have often thought of
them. Without being aware of it, I have uncon- (
sciously associated Annie's cross with the cross of
flowers. Annie had much to contend against? {
more, perhaps, than any of you were aware of. (
Her accomplishments limited, her education in- ,
complete, she could not avail herself as Margaret, j
of the one, or as you of the other. She was liter- (
ally learning to suffer and be still." (
"I saw it, mamma," said Janie, with one of her ,
acute perceptions, "and, without ever thinking of ]
it before, I knew exactly where Annie had to bo
restrained and where elevated. Annie's moral '
perfections needed cultivation, as much as her
mental capacities. Her apathy needed stimula- ]
ting to action, her indifference elevated to contentedness,
and her callousness to forbearance. When
these aptitudes were fairly aroused, and in action,
she became gentle, patient and unselfish. Annie's
is a faith which works by love, and she has earned
the right of compelling every one of us to love '
her."
Mrs. Carter's eyes filled with tears.
"Dear child, with what sweet patience she learnt
the lesson, that 'they also serve who only stand and
wait' And yet how Annie serves, none would ever
know, but those of our own household. Her quiet
unobtrusive goodness, will never force itself into
notice. Housekeeper, seamstress, and maid of all
work, are very unpoetical names to you, Janie;
but in the practical details of life very necessary,
and all these Annie is to me."
* * 1 a1 I TV/1 WAf (TIAPIAIIU
"Unpoeticaj, moiner, uevci ? X'lU UVV ^IV41VUV
old Milton make E7e 'on hospitable cares intent ?'
Did not the cotter's wife:
? Wl' her needle an' her sheers,
Gars auld claes look aniaist as weel's tlie new." '
To make a happy fireside, 'is the true pathos and
sublime of human life.' After all, mother,
'No treasure or pleasure, can make us happy long,
The heart ay's the part ay, that makes us right or wrong.'?
Janie put her head down in her mother's lap.
"Do you think Johnnie is more contented now,
mother?" she asked.
I "I think so, dear," said Mrs. Carter, stroking
her hair. i
"Johnnie did not take to work kindly, at first, i
It was, too, a sore disappointment that he could ,
not complete his collegiate education. <
"Poor Johnnie !" sighed Janie. i
"Those first months, how I trembled for him," 1
said Mrs. Carter, shuddering. "The example of 1
his father did much for him. His uncomplaining t
patience, his untiring industry, his unmeasured attention,
were all incentives to Johnnie. But I be- 1
lieve, after all, his father's confidence, his evident 1
sympathy, did more for him than even his beauti- i
ful example. Still there were times when my i
prayers were agony for him, when my faith falter- c
ed, when my trust was well nigh exhausted."
"Mother," said Janie, "Annie has been John's 1
guardian angel. Many a night, when we were all
asleep, Annie has sat up waiting for him, and I
Itnow, the fact that he would certainly meet her on
his return, would often restrain him from indulg- a
ng in his 'frolics,' as he calls them; and bring him
home at an early hour. Many a time, after a day
5F tiresome household work, have I begged Annie
x) go to bed at the usual hour, but no: 'John had c
lot come, and she could not go till she would see
him And oho io on crontlo with Katie and Bettie. 0
rhey mind Mag best, but they love Annie most.
Did you ever notice that if they want anything I
;hey are quite sure of deserving, they always go to
Mag; but if it is an indulgence, it is to sister An- s
lie they appeal?"
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Carter, with a happy
>mile. "The cunning little witches; and even litJe
Willie, if he needs assistance or direction, he
will take a stool and sit at Margaret's feet for an
lour, while she patiently teaches him all she can
n his little plays. But getting weary or sleepy, fc
>ff he toddles to Annie, to climb in her lap, and
est his curly head upon her bosom." s'
"Mother, you love Annie better than any of us,"
aid Janie, suddenly. v
"Oh! no, Janey," said Mrs. Carter, almost re>roachfully.
"Annie has needed more encourage- It
nent than you all, and I have had to notice her
nore; but, my child, don't you know I watch you h
inxiously, and love you too'.?" ii
She bent her head and kissed Janie's brow.
Ianie burst into tears. "I would not blame you, I
uother, if you did not love me at all; I know I
ira capricious and wilful, passionate and impatient,
>utl can't help it I feel sometimes as if there was
i demon in me urging me to do and dare things I
uiow to be wrong, and I do them," said she, sulenly,
as she raised her head, the heavy tears still y
rembling on her lids. "And then I am tortured
>y all the furies, who lash me with their scorpion h
tings, almost to madness." g4
"Hush, Janie; don't talk so wildly," said Mrs.
barter, wholly at a loss to account for this out- h
ireak.
"You, who have worked so faithfully, so paiently,
so cheerfully, dear child; you, who have n
>een, indeed, the light of our home, what has now
liscouraged you? Why Janie, I thought you tj
lever had a sad moment. I thought your oecupaion
gave you perfect happiness." ]\
"Good heavens!" said Janie, impetuously.
'Have I worn my mask so well ? Occupation,
lappiness ? A negatif j happiness, truly; scarce- y
y satisfying an impassioned nature," she continled,
bitterly. "You thought I had forgotten my n
tome, with all its lovely surroundings, the life that D
ras paradise to me?gay, volatile, impetuous as I
m! You thought I could accept the tread-mill M
orture of labor and never feel its curse! I could
lave the fruits and flowers of paradise snatched 0
rom my eager grasp, and never suffer the agony a
if Tartalus! There are no memories to strike a e(
raven's beak' into Janie's heart! What have I,
he laughter loving, to do with care ? Feeble, f,
mpty and vain?life in sunshine and in storm is
he same to me. I know that my abnegation does h
lot deserve the high and holy name of Margaret's
elf-sacrifice, but for God's sake, do not call it fee- S1
ileness of feeling. I know that my utter quiet
rill never win the name of Annie's patience, but g
lo not call it inability to suffer. I know it seems ^
is if you were all called on to do, while Janie is a
atisfied to be, and I know, too, that my good is
ill impulse, my action all passion, my rest all re- t<
istance, but have you not heard that 'we must ^
orrow sorely to laugh generously ?' and God help
ne, the fiends in Dante's hell could not, at times, p
lave a wilder laughter than that to which my
vretched heart gives utterance."
"Janie, Janie," 6aid Mrs. Carter, frightened,
is much at the bitter tone, and the burning face tl
>f the speaker, as at the wild words, "What is the t
natter? What should make you wretched, my
:hild ? Have you a care you would hide from n
wur mother, darling?" e
"No, mamma, no;" replied Janie, fretfully.? ti
'Just think as you all do, that to Janie, 1
"A primrose by the river's brim, 8
Or at the cottage aoor,
A yellow primrose U to him, 8
And it in nothing more."
Fonder is Maggie, now; she looks tired?I will go o
tnd meet her." il
Janie rose wearily, slowly descended the steps, a
ook a lingering step, then quickened her pace, t
tnd finally sprang down the pathway with a skip li
tnd a jump, opened the gate for Margaret, threw I
ler arms around her, and kissed her wannly? t
spied her father and John in the distance, fairly t
an in the exuberance of her life to raeeet them,
jonvulsed them both with laughter at some of her p
school escapades, and conducted them home in ii
xiumph. e
"Where is Annie?" said John, the moment he
intered the door. r
"Gone?spirited away," replied Janie. "The a
ingels said she was too good 'for human nature's s
laily food,' so they cast her mantle over me. So
fOU see lone seraph's left on earth, for Janie did
iot die.'" And taking Annie's blue mantle from s
:he chair, she twined it around her head and shoul- t
iers, making such a beautiful picture of demure
joquettishness, that John, for a moment, was si- ?
lent to admire her. I
"You play, Annie, indeed; you Endor witch 1 J
You do not understand even her first perfection.
How could you, you giddy thing?" said John J
laughing, as Janie improvised a Saint Cecilia ex- I
pression, with an irresistably comic attitude. i
"Ofcourse not?witless Janie, forsooth!" said 1
Janie, tossing the mantle from her. "Johnriie, it i
is a beautiful faith to believe 'that every flower enjoys
the air it breathes.'" . ^
"Well, and what then; how does that bear on
Annie and you ?" said John. j
"Pshaw!" said Janie; "explain why the sun
shines, and why the air blows, and why the birds x
sing, you practical counting-nouse American. xaKe j
on faith what you don't understand.'' ]
"You certainly are the most visionary, mystical |
woman, the sun ever shone upon. How am I to 1
guess at all your far-fetched absurdities?" said
John. t
"Well! the Pythia is not propitious to-night;
she will not sit upon her three legged-stool to be ,
consulted even by the august John Carter. So away,
and do not question to your own undoing.?
But there is Annie's bell; let us go to supper." ]
- Annies' table, with its spotted damask, looked
very inviting. A little fire had been kindled in
the grate, for the evening's were still somewhat s
cool. A rich mahogany sideboard, a plain moreen- 1
covered lounge, dining chairs, with one or two easy
rockers; the table with its white service and tempt- 1
ing viands, a few choice engravings on the wall,
completed its furniture. But the table was now i
the centre of attraction. j
It was the one weakness of Annie, that she would
lse China, and pure white China was the servioe.
i beautifully arranged dish of flowers graced the
entre of the board; and from the chandelier, hung
i. basket of gracefully drooping moss, with a few
lot-house flowers just peeping from the Jaoe-like
eaves. The table was bountifully, but simply
ipread.
Annie, seated before the waiter, looked to the
ife the 'womanly woman.' Mrs. Carter was on
:ter right, and John on the left. Then little Katie
hext to her mother, and Bettie opposite; Margaet
and Janie on either hand of their father, Who
iccupied the head of the table opposite Annie.
"Sister," whispered Katie, to Margaret; "may
[ have some cheese."
"No," replied Margaret
Katie quietly nibbled her bread.
"Katie, what did you ask sister for?" said Besie,
in a stage whisper.
"For some cheese," replied Katie.
"What did she say ?" asked Bettie. <
"No," replied Katie, shaking her little foot nonhalantly.
Bettie sipped her milk. John laughed, "No !
ppeal, eh! Bettie?"
"I don't like cheese very much, anyhow," said ]
lettie. who eenerallv made the best of a thing.
"You little fox," said John, "your grapes are
cmr. Do you like cheese, Katie?' 1
"Yes, I do," replied Katie emphatically. '
"Why don't you beg then ?" teased John. '
Katie looked into Margaret's quiet fuoe. 1
"Cause," said she.
"Cause what?" said John. i
"Cause she don't want to," said Bettie, coming i
o the rescue. 1
"Brother John, don't tease little Katie," said
lie, with a little manner of patronizing. <
"No, Bettie, that ain't it," said Katie, opening
ride her black eyes. "Cause it ain't no use." 1
"Compromise not aooepted Bettie," said John, 1
lughing at her discomfiture.
"Annie," whispered Bettie, "may I have a .
imp of sugar, in my milk ?" Annie dropped it
i.
"Sister," said Katie, looking at Margaret, "may I
have some sugar ?" <
"No," replied Margaret.
"Bettie, got some," whispered Katie.
"/did not give it to Bettie," replied Margaret. <
"But Annie did," persisted Katie.
"Then you should have asked Annie," said j
largaret, quietly.
Katie fidgetted on her chair?the sweetness of '
or milk destroyed by Bettie's lump of sugar? 1
;ill she did not again ask. 1
"Sit still, Katie," said Margaret Katie settled '
or little person quietly.
There was a ring at the door bell.
mmf T rrf\ in tlio dnni-?" vhiwnwl I'
013 LCI) uiajr A. gv Mr iruv uwi <
jstless little Katie. 1
"No, Katie, let Auiy go," said Margaret Ka- '
e swung her foot f
"You are shaking the table; be quiet sissie said '
largaret (
Katie caught her little foot and held it tightly. ^
The servant brought a card, and handed it to 1
largaret (
"Mr. Newton," said Margaret quietly. "Anie
will you go ; I have some music to copy to- '
ight?" '
"Go in, daughter; I will attend to the table," 1
lid Mrs. Carter. 1
"No," replied Annie, a faiut color, like the pink 1
f a shell, on her cheek; "not unless Margaret will 1
How Bettie and Katie to go in?they have finish- '
i supper." 1
"Certainly," replied Margaret, lifting Katie *
.em her chair, and arranging her pinafore.
"Is my hair smooth sister?" said Bettie, with 1
er demure manner. '
"Perfectly," replied Margaret, with a sober
mile. 1
Katie threw her arms around Margaret's neck,
ave her a hurried kiss, and ran down the passage 1
) the parlor. Bettie touched her sister's cheek i
ad followed quietly.
"Maggie, I don't know how you have the heart *
) deny Katie as you do," cried Janie ; "and she
ikes it all so patiently." _
"Do not forget the discipline that taught her t
atience," replied Margaret.
"But Mag, it is almost severity," said Janie. 1
"Katie does not feel it so," replied Margaret.
"But you are not so strict with Bettie, and I J
hink Katie has much the finer disposition of the (
wo," said Janie.
"You are right," replied Margaret, "but do you 1
ot know that the apathetic person is more easily
xcited to moderate enjoyment, or abstemiousness, ]
ban the ardently impassioned is restrained? 1
.'hercfore, Katie has to practice restraint in a 1
tronger degree than the excitement to which I
libject Bettie." '
"I believe you are right, Mag," said Janie, with
lie of her brieht nerceDtions. "I never viewed
t from that physiological point of view before;
nd your theories, different from philosophical i
Leories generally, work beautifully. Katie is a i
ittle gem?thanks to you?a polished one ; and
lettie is a model which you are redeeming from 1
aint and soil, by chiseling in marble a character i
hat will embody a noble woman." i
"Thank you, Janie; but you are placing me on a 1
xjdestal which I have no right to occupy. I have,
ndeed, only been the tool; the sculptor was moth- *
r," replied Margaret '
"No, Margaret," said Mrs. Carter, "you shall
lot divide your laurels; you have fairly won them
,nd your love gives me what your justice can 1
carcely endorse."
Margaret looked at her fondly.
"I know who taught me strength and patienoe," 1
he said. "If Bettie and Katie are quiet and pa- i
ient, it is due to you at lost" 1
"Oh! Janie, I forgot to tell you that Mary
limpson and Edward Wilcox will be here to-night ;
[met him after he left you this evening," said
Tohn.
"Was that Edward Wilcox at the gate with you,
Fanie ?" said Mrs. Carter. "Why, I never would
lave recognized him. Handsome as he was, he I
s now handsomer than ever. His European tour 1
las done much for him; he is very much im)roved."
I
Janie dropped her handkerchief and found it i
nth some difficulty.
"Oh! yes, mother," said she, looking up with
i face still flushed from the act of stooping.
"These tourists ! heaven preserve us, needs
nust lead a profitable life in more ways than one.
Mr. Wilcox has oome back a' la Parisian, a' la
Flussian, a' la Italian, a' la Turk, a' la everything,
)ut the man. Annie, your room is dreadfully
varm?I am going to the piazza."
"When did Wilcox return ?" said Mr. Carter,
i3 Janie left the room.
"Last week, sir; though he told me he had seen
Janie several times," replied John.
"How?has he called?" asked Mr. Carter.
"No," replied Mrs. Carter, "he has not been
aereat all."
"How could he see her then ?" he asked.
"I think he has walked home with her from
school for several evenings," said Mrs. Carter,
Hesitatingly.
"Humph!" said Mr. Carter. "How long has
ae been away, John?"
"He left a short time after we moved out here,
s:ir," replied John. "He has been absent nearly a
pear."
"I wish he had stayed a year longer," said Mr.
Carter; ",an egotistical, empty-headed, selfish fel
low. His vanity is only paralleled by his impu
dencc, and yet the very man to impress Janie'i
silly little heart"
"Why, father, I think you are unjust to Ned
He is as clever a fellow as I know, and excessively
popular with the young men. He is certainly fine
looking, and he knows it He is smart, too?cute
as a briar, and that just suits Janie. I thoughi
he liked her before he left, but our smash up came,
and as for Janie?its impossible to say whom she
likes."
"What brings him here to-night?" said Mr,
Carter, sternly.
"I don't know," said Johu; "he said to see uj
all, but I suppose to' see Janie."
"Come, Annie, have you not done yet? Newton
will think you are not coming at all. Why
didn't Mag go in? He came to see her.''
"Yes, Johnnie, I'm ready now," said Annie,
dropping her keys in her basket "Are you wait
ing to escort me?"
"Yes, come on; let us go." He threw his arm
Invinfflv around her.
"I want to see you a moment, Annie," he whispered.
They walked slowly down the passage.
"Mary Simpson is coming to-night. I wish,
Annie, you could get over your shyness and talk tc
her. You would like her?she's a nice girl, and
then she has been such a true friend through all
this trouble.' Confound it, if it hadn't been for
that?"
"Come, come brother; you must not confound
my blessing. If it had not been for 'the trouble,'
is you call it, we would never have known and
loved each other as we do."
She turned and kissed the hand lying on her
shoulder.
"I would have taken ten such troubles to have
found such a dear sister as you," said John, affectionately.
"But, Annie, don't forget what I said about
Mary."
She nodded and smiled, as she entered the room.
"See, Miss Annie, how well I have been entertained,"
said Mr. Newton, trying to rise with a
uhild on each knee.
"You have not missed me, then," she said.
He made some playful remark, and again arose
to speak to John.
George Newton was one of the very few
preachers whom John Curter liked. As he said,
liimself, "it was some pleasure to talk to a man
who was not constantly telling raw head and bloody
jone stories of death and judgment" Yet religion
was the one theme of this young servant of
3od.
In person he was comely, with an eye remarka)ly
quick and piercing, and a countenance exprcsrive
and changeful. His conversational powers
were great, and he led the minds of those around
aim with perfect simplicity and ease to the sacred
mbject which engrossed his thoughts. It was a
labit of life with him, and so free and artless was
:he manner, that no one could possibly be offended.
Bis cheerful laugh, bright, animating smile arid
ilayful wit, bespoke a deep and heavenly fountain
)f peace and love.
After awhile, Janie came in. She had changed
ler dress to one of pure white, and the short sleeve
ind infant waist, showed her exquisite form to full
idvantage. Bracelets of coral looped her sleeves,
i necklace of the same was clasped around her
leek, and her curls drawn back from her face,
vere looped through coral ear rings. Around her
lead she wore a wreath of geranium leaves and
*ich scarlet buds, and on her breast a coral pin conincd
an exquisite boquet of fragrant leaves and
juds. There was an air of subdued tenderness
ibout her, far more dangerous than her frolicsome
minor.
Mr. and Mrs. Carter came in a few moments
ifter.
"Come here, Janie," said Mr. Carter. "For
vhom is my little gypsy dressed to-night ?" he ask;d,
taking both of her hands in his.
She blushed crimson. "For you, papa, to be
jure," she said.
"Is it, Janie?" he asked, almost sadly.
"Don'tl dress every night, for you?" she asked,
matching her hand from him.
"Not, perhaps, with quite so much care," said
ler father.
"Where is Miss Margaret, to-night?" said Mr.
tfewton, who had been holding quite an animated
?nvereation with John and Annie.
"Up stairs, at some abominable music copying,"
eplied Janie.
"Mamma, Maggie will kill herself working, if
?ou do not put a stop to it. Were I you, I would
nsist in the most peremptory manner, that she
ihould oonie down."
"Miss Janie, will you take a message for me tc
ker?" said Mr. Newton.
"Certainly," replied Janie with ready alacrity.
"Any thing I can do for Mr. Newton?"
"Gives pleasure, of course," interrupted he,
nniling his joyous smile. "We accept the etceteras
ofetiqette, of course."
"Do not you accuse me of fashionable platitudes,
Mr. Newton," said Janie, hastily. "A disappointment
in you would just now shake #y faith in humanity,"
she half whispered. "But what must I
tell Maggie?"
"Tell her I'm jealous of that music, and if she
continues to show partiality in that quarter, I will
sertainly bid you all good night"
Janie laughed and bounded away.
She had scarcely left the room, when Mary Simpjon
and Edward Wilcox, were announced.
Mary was a sweet little specimen of womanhood.
Everything in her placid face bespoke a gentle,
kindly disposition. She was scarcely eighteen,
and was Annie's senior by about a year. There
was a sweet languid, lingering tone in her voice,
which spite of one, would haunt the ear with a
pleasant memoiy.
Annie arose to greet them, and as Mary turned
with a flushed face from John's hearty welcome,
Annie involuntarily bent her head and kissed her.
"T ' "nn Annio " wTlwnPrpd IVfjl
JL pri?C tlldl HUUi yuu iauuiu) ,,
ry, as she passed on to speak to Mr. and Mrs.
Carter.
In a few moments Janie came down with Margaret.
There was a vivid color on Janie's cheeli
and a bright sparkle in her eye, which enhanced
her beauty to a brilliancy almost dazzling.
Margaret's stop was lingering, and her whole figure
drooping. She looked weary and sad. Hei
face, always pale, looked now almost waxen in its
transparency. The blue veins could be distinctly
seen, and the dark circles beneath the eyes gave tc
the whole countenance a look of untold suffering.
The lips had lost their curl of haughtiness, but
were compressed in more unmistakable firmness.
The mouth looked chiseled in its rigidity, and rarely
softened in smiles.
She advanced slowly into the room, saluted each
one with a quiet, self-possessed dignity, and accepted
the chair which Newton placed for her.
"You look weaiy, Miss Margaret; I am glad
my message brought you down," said he.
"Do I?" said she; "I am not conscious of feeling
more so than usual."
"Weariness should not be a usual, but an unusual
thing," said he.'gently. ?"You are working toe
hard."
"Well, is it not a glorious thing to die in harness?"
she asked. "Better wear out, than rust
out."
"I do not, know, though, that we have any
right to wear ourselves out," he replied.
' 'Oar health is as undoubtedly a talent for which I
- we will have to account, as any of our mental cai
pacities. There are more suicides in the grave,
than the knife or the bullet have sent there."
Margaret looked at him inquiringly.
r "I assure you, I believe it, Miss Margaret,"
5 said he. "God has given you your life to use, not
i to abuse. He has given you a high and holy work
b to do, and what right have you to stop that career
, of usefulness by stubborn neglect? You see I use
j hard words, but when the sore is deep, the caustic
must burn." He smiled pleasantly.
"lean bear your hand on it," said Margaret,
softly.
J He looked at her sadly, but tenderly.
"Fulfilling the law, is a hard duty, is it not,
Miss Margaret?"
r She started.
"All these have I kept from my youth up,"
, very few can say; and when it is said, yet are we
not perfect. ? Sell that thou hast and give to the
poor."
i Her eyes questioned.
"You would ask of your possessions ? Your
sympathy with those who love you; your confi
den^e in those who watch you. 1 ou have a weaitn
whicu those of your own household long to attain,
i while they feel their poverty without it Do you
I understand?"
1 Margaret bowed her head.
' 'Then come and sing something sweet for me, before
I go," said he.
1 "You are not going so soon ?" she asked.
He laughed his merry laugh. "Well, that is
cool, after refusing to come down and see me. But
to punish you, for of course it will, I must tell you
1 I am going to leave?for awhile. I am going up
the river to Forrest Home."
i Margaret's pale face flushed.
"Forrest Home; where is that ?"
"Stephen Hunter's place, on the Mississippi.
; He has written for me to come up there and preach
for him; he thinks a church might be established,
if there was only one to set the ball in motion; so
I am going to see what I can do," replied Newton.
"When do you leave, Newton ?" asked John.
"Hunter writes he is coming down for me, probably
some time next week," he replied,
t "Then he will be here at my birth-day. party,"
said Mary. "Mr. Newton, leave at your peril,
before that!" said she, in playful menace.
"More perilous to stay than to go, Miss Mary,
if you assemble such a galaxy of beauty as you
did on the last occasion," he gallantly replied.
"But I cannot leave before the last of the week."
' "That will suit admirably," said Mary. "The
day is propitious. Maggie, Janie, Annie, all of
you recollect, I bespeak you for Wednesday even
_ >1
ID g.
There was a chorus of laughing assents, but
Margaret said nothing.
if ' i-- ?* ? ?> xr
"Uorae, 01 aggie, you aon c answer, sum iuary.
"I fear it will be out of my power, Mary," she
replied. "I have more scholars to go to on that
day, than any other. I fear I would be too tired
to enjoy much."
"Oh! Mag, don't refuse me," pleaded Mary.
"We will give you the veiy quietest corner, and
please make this sacrifice for me. You will understand
how I value it, when I tell you I plead,
knowing it is a sacrifice."
There was no withstanding the affectionate girl,
' and Margaret consented.
[to be continued next week.]
[Back numbers of the Enquirer containing so
much of the foregoing story as has been published,
can be furnished, if applied for early.]
IpSfrnawirusi JMicIts.
GOV. ORR AND THE JURY ORDER.
The following letter has been forwarded to the
President:
Executive Department, S. Carolina, )
Columbia, September 30,1867. >
To His Excellency Andrew Johnson, President of
the United States:
Sir:?I have the honor to forward for your consideration
General Orders, No. 89, issued by Gen.
E. R. S. Canby from the headquarters of the Second
Military District, dated the 13th inst, and
communicated to me on the 20th instant
It will be perceived that by this general order
"all citizens assessed for taxes, and who shall have
paid taxes for the current year, and who are qualified
and have been or ma? be registered as voters
( are qualified to serve as jurors;" and that "it shall
be a sufficient ground of challenge to the com'petonmr
nf nnv nprsnn drawn as iuror that he has not
v* ?v r? m
been duly registered as a voter. Such right of
challenge may be exercised in behalf of the people
' or of the accused, in all criminal proceedings, and
by either party, in all civil actions and proceedings."
You will observe that this order constitutes as
competent jurors all persons who have paid taxes
and registered, and excludes all persons who have
been adjudged to be disfranchised under the Military
Reconstruction Acts. These Acts have not
been construed according to the usual legal principle
of enlarging the privileges or franchises of the
citizen; but on the contrary, with a strictness
which has excluded from registration many whose
disfranchisement was doubtful, and very many
1 who, under a fair interpretation of the Act, should
have been entitled to registration. In addition to
all district officers, such as clerks, sheriffs, tax collectors
and assessors, registers in equity, magistrates
and constables, there have been excluded
militia officers, commissioners of roads, commissioners
of free schools, commissioners of the poor,
and commissioners to prove the securities on the
! bonds of public officers. These various boards are
appointed by resolution of the Legislature, except
\ the Commissioners of the Poor, who are elected
by the people. When appointed or elected they
1 are required to serve two years or pay a fine of
i $50. They take no oath to perform their duties,
and receive no compensation for their services.
These classes, together with magistrates, constables,
district officers, judges and members of the
Legislature, constitute a very large number of the
citizens of the State who have been excluded from
; registration; and the fact that they have filled
1 these various offices and positions is evidence of
their general intelligence.
If carried into execution, this general order will
? ?Iqtvq polaflnty nfir
* mure uumpicreijr uiikvuc wv ^ -- x?
( sons and property than all the other orders that
r have yet been issued by the military authorities in
) this district. The Legislature of the State, at its
session in December, 1866, imposed a tax of $1
; per head upon all male persons between the ages
of twenty-one and fifty, residing in this State on
. the 1st day of February, 1887, except those incapable
of earning a support from being maimed or
i any other cause. All colored males are thus liable
. to pay taxes; and yet very many of them have
failed to do so. What has been the relative pro[
portion of whites and blacks who have failed to
pay in the respective districts I have not now the
. means of stating; but the proportion of colored
persons is much greater than of whites.
To show the ruinous results, however, that will
i follow from this order, if it is allowed to be executed,
I beg leave to call your attention to the matter of
registration in this State.
; There are white majorities in but six districts. In
two districts the numbers are about equal In each
r of the remaining twenty-three distriots of the State
?there being altogether thirty-one?the registra
! tion shows a ooJored majority. In Charleston, the
colored majority is 1,812, the registered whites being
3,286, and the blacks 5,098. Of the whites 118
were unable to sign their names; of the colored,
2,866. In Charleston and Colombian larger numberof
the latter class of persons can read and write,
than in any other portion of the State; a very much
larger number, because they hare had facilities before
and since emancipation, of obtaining some education,
not enjoyed by their class in all the rural
region of the State, to which I shall advert more
particularly hereafter. In organizing a jury in
Charleston, therefore, assuming that all have paid
their taxes, this proportion would give nearly eight
colored jurors to four whites, and five of these
eight wodld not be able to sign their names. In
Beaufort, Georgetown, Colleton, Berkeley and other
Districts, the showing is even worse. Partial
returns from Beaufort indicate that there are 2,550
colored, and but sixty-five white voters registered.
This proportion would furnish but one white man
to every fourth jury. Of die colored voters registered
in the rural districts, 1 estimate that not
more than five percent of this whole number are
able to read and write, and very many of them
have not intelligence enough to count one hundred.
Tn rioA?ffAiAiuit TVnliJ<U A1 Q on/1
iu \jwi^ciunu i/uuivb viiciu (uc tig wUII^O uuu
3,413 colored voters registered. One white man
might perchance be drawn upon each jury, and in
all probability not one of the remaining eleven colored
men would be able to read and write.
To sum up, there will be in twenty-three Districts
of this State a majority of colored jurors for
the trial of all classes of cases, civil and criminal,
and only five per cent of their number will be able
to read or write. Does any country which has estabished
the right of a trial by jury, fail, by its
legislation, to secure a proper degree of intelligence
among the jurors ? These rules, if applied to the
State Courts, will, I presume, be likewise applied
to the Federal Court; and the proportion upon
such Federal juries will be?in Charleston, eight
colored to four whites; in Columbia, nine colored
to three whites, and in Greenville, eight white to
four colored jurors. These are the three points
where the United States Court sits in South Carolina.
Can these colored people discharge the duties
of jurors either to the United States or to the
State, to the litigants or to justice? With such
instruments, will not the effort to administer justice
be a mockery ? Now, if the order had provided
that no person shall be allowed to sit upon a
jury who is unable to read or write, or if a property
qualification had been annexed, or if in cases,
civil or criminal, in which colored persons may be
interested, a certain proportion of the jury should
consist of their own color, it might not have been
objected to seriously; but in its present bearing,
the order is calculated to excite the gravest apprehensions,
and to^ lead to results which must be
universally deplored by those who desire to see
even and exact justice meted out to all men. Nearly
all of the litigation, certainly all of the important
litigation, on the civil side of the court is be
tween wniie citizens, ana involves intricate issues
of lav and fact, as well as sums great and small.
What protection can the white or even the colored
man himself have, if his case is to be decided by a
jury made up of persons possessing so little intelligence
that they are unable to read, write, or cipher?
With what satisfaction would a Northern
claimant regard an adverse decision made by a jury,
a majority of whom were colored, when the
same case measured by intelligence and submitted
to the judgment of men of experience and education,
would perhaps have been decided in his favor?
Suppose that he is a patentee whose rights
have been infringed, and whose interests?involved
to the amount of half a million of dollars?are
dependent upon the keen discrimination of an intelligent
jury called upon to determine some material
difference between machinery or processes of
manufacture; is it not preposterous to suppose that
a colored jury, constituted as I have described, possesses
the requisite qualifications to render a just
intelligent verdict? Yet this is but one of the
many classes of coses, which the Northern as well
as the Southern man will be compelled to submit
to the judgment of the ignorant and unwise jurors
created by Order No. 89.
Under the present jury organization of South Carolina,
I have no reason to believe that sinoe colored
persons have been admitted to give evidence
in all our courts, any injustice has been done
to the colored people by white jurors. On the
contrary, I think it will be established by the concurrent
testimony of the various prosecuting officers
of the State, that in criminal proceedings
juries have dealt more mercifully with the colored
than with the white persons tried before them.
Again, the exclusion of the intelligent classes re"
1 !- 1 -J 1-1? ? ..IMul nntn
ierrea 10, is uaseu ouiciy upun wcu (wuuuu ou?.cedents.
But where is the propriety of making
the politics of a citizen, especially the politics
which ruled his action years ago, the standard of
his eligibility to perform juiy duty ? It is very
rare indeed that a case, civil or criminal, is presented
for the decision of a jury involving any political
issue whatever ; and I am not aware that anywhere
else, it is attempted to exclude intelligence
from the jury box, because of any real or supposed
obnoxious political sentiments entertained by the
parties whose duty it is thus to serve.
The five fall circuits of the Superior Court of
this State, which is charged with the trial of all
civil cases involving amounts above $100, and of
all criminal charges of felony and some misdemeanors,
commence their terms on the first Monday
in October. The letter of General Canby enclosing
the order above referred to, requires that
it shall go into effect immediately; that the jurors
who were drawn and already summoned at the
spring term of the Court in conformity to State
laws shall not assemble, but that new jury lists
shall be prepared in accordance with the order. In
most of the Districts the term is limited to one
week, and the drawing and summoning of jurors
under the order will consume much of the tune.
This is one of the practical difficulties in the way
of the execution of the order.
In view of all these circumstances, therefore, I
beg leave, most earnestly, to protest against its execution,
and to ask that it may be ordered to be
entirely revoked, or at least suspended until after
the close of the fall terms of this State. Your
early attention to this matter is respectfully invoked,
inasmuch as I desire to communicate the
result of this application to the judges prior to the
commencement of their respective terms. I have
the honor to be your Excellency's obedient servant,
JAMES L. ORR,
c a .1. ru 1:
wovernor ui ouuw ^oiuuuo.
t&* The New York Herald says a plan has been
broached for the establishment of a system of storm
signals on the Cape Hatteras lighthouse, by which
vessels in sight or nearing can be warned of storms
prevailing elsewhere. A line of telegraph is proposed
to run from Ncwbern to Hatteras, by means
of which the lighthouse keeper can be informed of
storms ou any distant part of the coast, and thus
communicate by signal flags or cannon the information
to passing vessels, who being forwarned,
can be forearmed. It is well known that storms
frequently prevail in one direction on the Atlantic
while everything is calm in another. It is also
proposed to extend these signals to Key West,
Fort Taylor, Havana, and other points, as it is
stated that the expense will be very slight.
W9* The Virginia papers report heavy frosts in
different sections of the State.