Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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^mL^.?RIST' ^ |nkpmi)tnt ^iniilir Jlfiuspaptr: J'or % promotion of % |olitid. .Social, ^griniltnntl anb (Tommncial $nfmsts of ik Sontb. ^ . .. .. . . ? A . m . ' r,., j.T T^QL. 13. YOEKYILLE, S. C.t THXJESpAY, OCTOBER 31, 1867. NO. ' i i?i i ih.iri . . |.|, ^hp ! fwtlg. I From tiie Macon Jouinil. THE COliFEDEKATE DEAD. . ! p BXIaAXIXSK. From the broad and calm. Potomac To the Rio Grandma waves. Have the brave and noble fhlien? And the earth ia strewn with graves. In the vale and on the hill-aide, Thro' the woods and by the stream, Haa the martiaj pageant Aided, " Like the vision of a dream. . Where the reveiUe resounded. And the stirring call "to arms," Nod the downy heads of clover? To the wind's mesmeric charms: Where the heels of trampling squadrons Beat to dust the mountain pass, Hang the dewdrop's fragile crystals From the slender stems ofgrass. Where the'shock of meeting armies Housed the air in raging waves, And with sad and hollow groaninga i Echoed earth's deep hidaen caves; ( Where the cries of crushed and dying >- Pierced the elemental strife, wWe lay death in sick'ning horror 'Neath the maddened rush of life. Quiet now reigns, sweet and pensive. All is hushed in dreamless rest, And the pitying arms of Nature Hold her neroes on her breast. Shield them well, Oh, tender mother. l While the morn and evening breath 1 Whispers us, the sad survivors, 9 Of their victory in death. < What thomrh no statelv column Their cherished name may raise, To dim the eye and move the Up With gratitude and praise? The blue sky, hung with bannered clouds, Their solemn doom ahall be; - * ' All Heaven's choiringwinds chant The anthem of the free. , The Spring with vine-dad arms ahall clasp ' Their hiflocked resting plaoee, ' And summer roses droop above, With flushed awl dewy &oes Fairy daisies, rayed and crowned, shall spring i Like stars, from out their dust, ] And look to kindred stars on high With eyes of patient trust. ' And vainly shall the witling's lips i . Assail with envious dart The fame of our heroic dead, < Whose stronghold is the heart? The nation's heart?not wholly crushed; i Though each throb be in pain; For Life and Hope will still survive, v I Where Love and Faith remain. ) ?tigiaal gtouwlette.j Written for the Ybrkville Enquirer. 1 > THE WEALTH OF ROME. -! 1 A STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE. . JDX nnsi ? Ai K4VTAAA9 AUTHORESS OP "RLLKK CAMPBELL, OR KIITO'S MOUNTAIN," AJCD OTHER STORIES. CHAPTER V. "Kiss me, mother, and wish me a happy evening," said Janie, skipping into the room where her mother and father sat "WillI do, Johnnie?" said she, turning around on the floor with a half skipping, half-waltzing step. "How oaa I see you, yow fidget f" said Johnnie. "Come here and stand till a fellow can look at you. I tell you, Janie, if the old philosophers had caught you, they would have cried 'Eureka' over perpetual motion." "And would have wept in disappointment the next moment See here, Johnnie!" And throwing her head back with mock dignity, she moved with a stately step across the room, and bowing gracefully, said, "Confess that 'variety's the source of joys below.' I keep my o' la Siddons style, only for those who appreciate it" "Ah! I see, Janie? non omnet omnibus?you do liot waste it upon me. But you look right pretty anyhow; don't she, mother? And look at P Mag and Annie! What a trio?Aglaia, Thalia and Euphrosyne. Now for conquest, girls." "No, no, Jo?n ; we are only attendant, hot ruling deities," said Janie; "we do not conquer hearts, you know?Venus conquers them through us," said she, bowing to her mother. "And failing to adorn her presence to-night, we wait On bur Apollo," she continued, curtseying lowly to John. "I accept, Janie," laughed John."^ Recollect it is your duty to please and render happy by social intercourse, gayety and politeness. Be true to your duty to-night, and my life on it, but your motto will be tent, vidi, vici" The gift of beauty seems given to some families. < It was undoubtedly so here. Margaret was dressed in pure white silk. A* lace tunic, richly embroid- : ered, M almost to the hem of her dress. The < berthe corresponded in embroidery, and the short , ol^QTToa torminotpH in (]m mutkl TTflr arms and i neck were bare and without ornament Her rich ' hair was drawn classically back from the face and j knotted in a large bunch of plaits low down on the j back of her head. She looked the impersonation > of purity, dignity and grace. Janie wore a dress < of illusion, so soft, so fleecy, so light, as to appear | ^ like a cloud of vapour around her. She had cunm singly contrived the appearanoe of a little white < rose-bud holding back the thick masses of her hair 1 from her face, and they nestled in her curls with a . modest grace, sweeter for the beautiful simplicity, t She wore no ornament save a black velvet band, i fastened at the throat with a diamond locket, and from which depended a sparkling cross. Annie 1 also wore white, with a shadow of blue almost intangible ; just enough to give her the appearance of a white-robed angel, in the shadow of the azure of her native heaven. Her beautiful golden hair could not be improved by other arrangements, and fell, with its usual grace and scrupulous care, over the combs which oonfined it A simple pearl necklace?John's gift?was on her neck, and bracelets of the same on her round and dimpled arms. "Come, mother," said John, "don't give all your admiration to the girls. Don'11 deserve some 1 - of it?" And he drew his coat closely and walked across the room. His fine manly figure was shown to full advantage, and as he turned his head, the roguish-look of his brown eyes gave to his countenance a merry expression, which bore a striking resemblance to Janie's, in her laughter-loving moods. He was indeed a noble fellow. Generous, L high spirited and brave, affectionate, thoughtful P and tender. No wonder his parents loved and his ' sisters adored him. Johnnie was the summon oonum of all manliness, the perfection of human nature to them. Mary's carriage was at the door for them, and in a little while, they were in the crowded rooms of Mr. Simpson's elegant house. '1 Sou are late. I feared you were not coming,'' said Mr. Newton, meeting them at the door. "Are we?" said Margaret, languidly. "I thought it early; but it was my fault. I detained them." "That is the truth, but not all the truth, Mr. Newton," said Janie, as they moved down the room and took their stands near One of the open windows. "Willie was disposed to be wilful tonight, and Mag would not have mamma troubled about managing him, so she could not dress till master Willie would come to terms." "Why," said Mr. Newton, "I had no idea of my little friend being bo rebellious; he has always seemed so sweet and tractable." "Oh I" replied Janie, "he would hare been I -^reet enough, if Mag had kissed him good-night but he had refused to obey her, and she told hiix he could not have his kiss. It almost broke th< poor little fellows' heart I don't know how Maj had the fortitude to withstand his pleadings." "Hush I Janie," whimpered Margaret "Well, Miss Janie, how was it settled ? For ] acknowledge I feel interested," said Mr. Newton. "Oh! as you might expect" said Janie. "Willie might have cried all night and not altered Maggie's determination, for when she will, she will, and there's the end?but she would not have left him. At last our Sister of Mercy came to the rescue, and Annie kissed and soothed him to sleep." , Mr. Newton turned on Annie one of his quick, penetrating glances. Her face suffused to the faintest pink, she drooped the long lashes over her soft blue .eyes, as he half whispered, 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.' While he spoke, the curtain of the window near them was suddenly thrown back, a vigorous. form stepped out and a rich manly voice said, with a genial hearty manner, "How are you, Newton ?" He bowed k>w to the ladies and Stephen Hunter passed before them. "Here is a chair in here, Mag," said Janie, drawing a chair within the window's recess. "No, thank yoa," said Margaret; and her voice sounded clear and hard. "I do not wish to sit down." 'i Janie stood by her side, then silently clasped Margaret's hand in hers. There was the slightest relaxation of the lines around Margaret's mouth. "Thank you, Janie, I feel weary. I will take the chair." Mr. Newton placed it for her and stood ^Dy her side. A party of gentlemen came up and stood near. "Who is that remarkably fine looking man, Mr. Newton ?" said Janie, directing his attention to a member of the group. "Do look, Mag ! His head reminds me of some antique bust, so intellectual, so ooldtind classic."* Margaret half turned, but the group was behind her and Bhe did not seem willing to make farther exertion. "That is Percy Dunbar, our ex-Senator. He has just returned from a European tour, after-two pear's absence. By the way, he is acousin of Hunter's, and one of tho finest scholars, and the most thorough gentleman I know." "Have you known Mr. Hunter long?" asked Janie. "Oh! yes," said Mr. Newton, "he is a collegemate of mine. Many a happy day I have spent in Forest Home with Stephen. A nobler fellow never lived, and attaining to the one thing needful, I would regard him aanearer perfection than uiv man I know." < "Not exoepting Mr. Dunbar?" laughed Janie. "Well, that head is a model. I would like to analyse it," Bhe said musingly. "It would be worth the study. Mr. Hunter is introducing John now. How well John looks in in introduction. He has such a hearty, 'I would ike to know more of you' sort of manner, his face ill the while expressing 'you see what 1 am?not wasting much, but able to do a good deal.' " "You have given John a 'speaking countenance' n earnest. Janie," said Annie, in her sweet low roioe. "I cannot read as you do; but Johnnie is K)We. Janie, they are looking this way. I wonler if Johnnie is going to bring him here.' You nust talk to him, for I cannot," whispered Annie, lalf tremulous in apprehension. "Indeed! I won't, replied Janie, wickedly; "if le has any taste, he will prefer you, and I shall wt interfere." John advanced with Mr. Dunbar. 'Prepare yourself: He's coming, Annie," said Janie pinching her maliciously. Margaret acknowledged the presentation with lerusnal quiet self-possession. Janie, with an irch sanciness lingering unconsciously on her face, rom her previous teasing; and Annie, with a blush ng, modest grace, peculiarly attractive. Dunbar's >row was slightly knit in an expression habitual to lim as he spoke to Margaret; the thoughtful grey ^es seemed to Janie, to look down into her heart is he greeted her, but his voice sounded mellow md winning as he entered into conversation with Innie. Janie looked at him curiously. He might lave been twenty-five?perhaps more, she thought low, when he was talking to Annie?but when he ame forward and his face in repose, she had judged aim nearer thirty. He was tall, erect, and rather slender; not handsome, but fine looking, with an anmistakable air distingue?more the work of nature than of art His dark grey eyes were clear, steady md penetrating, and in every line of the face there was expressed self-reliance, concentration, purpose, which settled about the mouth in a sternness almost Tepelling. But when he spoke, as he was now doing to Annie, evidently pleased with her 3weet modesty, there was a deference and unconscious devotion of manner irresistibly attractive, rhere was, too, a softness in the clear eyes, shaded is they were under their long black lashes; and at intervals a rare smile on his lip, which, coupled with the winning sound of his full toned manly eoice, softened the whole character of the countenstqce. "True to himself, under any or all circomstanses," thought Janie. Then, as he bent the head, which was proud without haughtiness, to listen to - nmi ft t _ l v f Annie's low voice, "ine raoe, too, Despea&s gentleness ; womanly in tenderness and yet so brave, 30 strong, so true, that one could rest on it as securely as on anything mortal" She was standing half in the shadow of the rich crimson curtains, her head was thrown a little to one side, a position habitual to her; and as she analysed the countenance before her, unconsciously a soft dreamy expression settled on her face, her thoughts were filled with other fancies, though still her gaze rested on him. Suddenly, Dunbar turned his headhe started?the eloquent picture framed in that gorgeous drapery for an instant dazzled him; his countenance bespoke wonder, admiration, pleasure. "Ariadne!" he half whispered. Janie was too true a woman not to understand the involuntary homage. She drew back, her long" lashes drooped, a half sigh just parted her lips; then slowly raising her eyes, the earnest gaze of Ed. Wilcox met hers. Her whole face changed. For one instant it was perfectly bathed in the warm glow which she could not restrain, her eyes sparkled in bright welcome, then suddenly drawing deeper still into the shadow of the curtain, she waited, tremulous and eager for his approach. For an instant, Dunbar forgot to answer Annie, while this tableau vivant was enacting. He looked at Wilcox. The words he addressed to Janie were too low to be heard; but every feature of his handsome face was answering the emotion of hers. He bent his head, said something low?one shy eloquent glance was the answer; he took her hand and placed it in his arm, for an instant clasped it, then they both moved out into the crowded room.? Dunbar's eyes followed them; he smiled, half sighed, then offering his arm to Annie, they too, mingled with the crowd. "Are you finding your work more attractive, Miss Margaret," said Mr. Newton, continuing a conversation which had been carried on for some time. "Since I have elevated it? Yes," replied Margaret "My responsibility presses upon me more, my attachments are stronger, and yet I feel repaid in the knowledge of "A work ofboiy lore to do. For Him on whom I wait!" He looked at her tenderly. , "Have you thought of my lesson on suicide ?" i he asked. 5 "Yes; much," she. replied; "but I cannot yet ; relax my efforts." "Why," said he, "such effort is not necessary for maintenance, and 'having food and raiment be < [ content'" "You do not suppose I am working for mere J maintenance?" said she. "With a little assis- . tanoe John will be able to take the place of junior partner in the firm in which he is now employed. 1 ; Vigorous efforts this year will enable us to give him the necessary capital?then I will have time ; > to rest" "Does John know of it?" asked Mr. Newton. 1 "Oh! no," said she, "we did not dare to tell 1 him, he would not have allowed it; none know of ] it but Janie, who is helping me and mother." "And you speak as if it was quite reasonable 1 that you should work for every one but yourself," < said he smiling. "Noble duty it is to spend and t be spent for others, hoping nothing again; but will \ this self-sacrifice always satisfy? Are there not hearts who will rebel against such abnegation ?" 1 "I understand you," said she, meeting his eyes with her calm grave look. "I live for my family alone. No one can suffer by my abnegation, as t you choose to call it; and living simply does not always imply living solitary." c "Your effort of Bclf-support, and to a degree self- i protection, has necessarily rendered you indepen- 1 dent You would call self-indulgence weak, because you feel it is only helplessness demands aid; but when the necessity for strenuous action passes ] over, will there not be a reaction ? Will not your i heart grow old in the iron furnaoe of labor?" said Mr. Newton. * } "A reaction! Yes, but not in the way you indi- s cate," said she. "I will enjoy my rest, perhaps, 1 more from the sense of having earned it; but my work wiD be literally home-work. I long to share I mother's cares, to assist in lightening father's la- t bore, to be more with Janie and Annie, to soften t by home pleasures some asperities in John's nature. Then there are the little ones to educate, all t of which will only be work directed in a different t channel I will scarcely have time to grow old, ii and yet does not richer experience lessen confidence, a and in a measure deaden enthusiasm ? Yes," said she musingly, "I am indeed growing old, '"In the dimness and the dust, f Of the dally toil and cares," L Then in a tone almost audible, c "And In the wrecks of love and trust, Which burdened memory wears." "You have found your 'possession' Miss Mar ? i ? i* _ garet,' said ne. " '? saw it m your parents iace, xne last morning I was there; and Miss Janie and Miss Annie are constantly thanking you in an unoon- t scious tenderness of manner, which, to me, is the jj veiy bond of perfectness in sisterly union." She looked one of her questioning looks. , "You would ask me how I know ? Perhaps, by the 'glad surprise,' of my own heart, when I see a human being out of sharp discipline, not only 0 bowing to God's will, but seeking unselfishly the ^ true happiness of others. Perhaps in witnessing the submission, the quiet joy of the young disci- ^ pie, in whom 'the chord of self has trembling, passed in music out of sight'" Margaret's eyes were almost humid, as she repii<a, "If there is any good, any patience, any faith in me, it is to you I owe it You taught me to sub- ? due the restless will that was so ambitious of high achievements; you taught me the unselfish joy of J! a heart at leisure from itself, to soothe and sympathize with others. You taught me of a mind that mingled with busy life, and yet kept close to my . Father's side. And dearer than all, you taught the truth, that self-renouncing love is a life of hhristian liberty." 8 "Pear Miss Margaret," said he, his eyes filling with tears. "My witness is above that I can say with holy f Rutherford, 'Your heaven is two heavens to me, and your salvation two salvations to me.' May the 8 Lord ever be your strength, and may your work be ^ found perfect before Him.'" ? "Miss Carter," said Hunter's voice at her side, "I have waited in vain for Newton to vacate that n chair, and in despair I have come forward to oust him. With your permission, I am anxious to re- 8 new some memories of 'langsyne,' and am curious to discover how far your recollection will assist me. ^ Come Newton, nolens volens.'' "You unmerciful Hoosier," said Newton, laugh- v ing. "One might expect just such an irruption c from the denizen of a Mississippi swamp. I will I not remain one instant longer to see Miss Marga ret subjected to such vaudal manners, I leave hira to your justice, Miss Margaret, and even 'my cloth' 8 will not permit me to say?temper it with mercy." 1 "Oh! I have no doubt you would wish me con- * demned to be hung, drawn and quartered, but don't hurry back to the execution," Hunter cried | after him. "j "You'll need me to shrive you, poor sinner," said Newton. "But a short shrift will answer if * you survive the sentence.* During this playful badinage, Margaret had 1 time to recover from the surprise into which Hunter's sudden greeting had thrown her. "You have been quite well since I have seen 5 you?" said Hunter. The familiar voice was strangely sweet in its low tones. f "Yes," she simply answered, without* raising 8 her eyes. "And happy?" Lower still the voice, with a tone of almost tenderness. She looked up, her eyes still humid from the 8 tears which had so lately filled them. Her lips parted in answer, but they only trembled and were t silent. Casting down the lids, she seemed to strug- t gle against emotion. c He watched her silently, almost pitilessly she c thought, as a faint pink color tinged her white I face, and settled in a spot like a rose leaf on eith- t er cheek. t She looked like a statue wanning into life ; and 3 yet trembling, almost fearful of tho Promethean 1 fire that was starting every pulse into quivering < sensation. < Hunter's eyes lighted dark, deep, joyous. A < triumphant smile wreathed his lips. "Let us go ? into the conservatory; it is warm here." i Anything to recover from that burning, bewild- ? ering sense. At once she arose, accepted tne arm that pressed so closely the little hand that rested there, and passed through the gay throng. They passed Annie ; she was leaning on Newton's arm, listening with a quietly amused air, to his laughing, but good naturcd comments on the crowd. They bowed as Hunter passed. "Going to execution?" laughed Newton. "Heaven forbid, if it should bring my ghostly | father. Only to the judgment seat to hear my | sentence. Miss Annie, do keep him there-c-confess to him?anything to save me from a sight of his priestly face," said Hunter, in affected dread of his following them. Newton watched them; then turned and said some low words to Annie. She turned away her head and blushed painfully but did not reply. "Where is Margaret?" said Janie, coming up leaning on Mr. Dunbar's arm. "Just passed through to the conservatory," replied Annie. "Do you want her?" "Yes; Maiy wishes her to sing, and I am look| ing for her," replied Janie. "Accept my arm, and let us follow her," said Wilcox, who had been watching for the opportunity for some time. 1 Janie gave a laughing look at Mr. Dunbar. I l1 must resign toaprior claim, I pre me," said he. Jaoie did not like the cml rBfiDquishment She pouted, withdrew her hand, bowed haughtily, and w?epting the arm of Wilcox moved towards the oonservjitoiy. "Tbif other way," said Wilcox, as J&nie would have followed Margaret into the one indicated by Annie. 1 "No, " replied Janie; "Annie laid she went in bete." * J "I assure you, Miss Janie, you are mistaken; rou will find Miss Margaret in the other one." Janie did not question, but went on. They entered the opposite conservatory. It was deserted. "I told you she was not here," aud Janie, imuatieiitir. "Let us go to the other one." "Not yet, Janie; come here." He placed his land upon the one that rested on his arm. He sailed her 'Janie.' Lore beckoned, and Janie, rue to her nature's impulse, followed. They stood inder the shade of ah orange tree. "Janie, do you know why I have brought you lere?" said he, and his voice trembled. "No," said she saucily; "how should I?" "You must know," said he, catching her hand, ind holding it in his ; "can yon not guess?" "I'm the poorest Yankee in the world, Mr. Wfl-: sox; never amid guess in my life," said she, lookng up in his face with an arch naivette, perfectly >ewildering. He wns visibly embarrassed. "Let me tell you then, Janie. I'm in love." ler eyes dropped, and her face flashed, but the text instant she looked up and said, "And you wish to give me your confidence.? Yell, go on. Don't make it too long, though; nch things are trying to third parties." She talf yawned. "Oh! Janie, don't you see, can't yon see ?" said te pleadingly, looking down at her with those soft irown eyes, perfectly glorious now in their earnest endenwiss. "I'm the worst person hi the world to see . hrough a millstone, Mr. Wiloox," said Janie, rambling in every limb, "but just make a hole in t, and no one can find daylight more quickly. Yon re in love. Mr. Wiloox is in love?and there the laylight stops." He was used to her contradictory humors, but his jesting omened ill for him, and yet her varying -I-- 1 -- i 11! A. 1 a. J! J !i. O I oior, nor tremoung irarne, wow am it aiesu i "You are cruel," said he, dashiug her hand a7&y. "Tell me then how to be kind," said she whis eringly. "May I ? Then listen?I love you, Janie; with ay whole soul I do. When yon told me our lot in ife was different, I went away?I tried to forget ou, but I could not. I was miserable without ou, and returned to find you more lovely, more ogaging, more of what was to me 'my Janie,' than ver. And now, all that I have, all that I am, I ffer to you. Janie, you love me, do you not? I mow it," said he, in lovers' triumph. "I have een it, dearest, in your dark eyes, in your speakng face, in your word of welcome, and in your ones of parting, my Janie!" He would have aught her to his heart, bnt she stepped back. "And that is the confidence you have brought . ae here to listen to, is it?" said she. "Here is ay reply: You have gone through the coqjuga- ' ions of 'to love' very prettily; it is a verb that we ) romen are disposed to study in the 'grammar of fe,' but you have failed to reach the conclusion, : o love, to be loved, to have been loved." I She spoke with a dignity he had never before i bit < "What do you mean, Janie? I cannot under- i tand you," said he. i "Understand that I do not acoept the oonfi- i lence?that I would wish it all unsaid," she re- 1 lied, though quivering in every limb. "Janey, you cannot again plead your position," aid he, appealingly. "Your family in loss of for- < une, never lost their position ; but in the eyes of I he good, the noble and true, they have attained a i ar more exalted place. You would elevate me ] ow, Janie ; not I you." "I know it," said Janie, with a cool, parentheis manner. : "As to fortune, we are not equal; but the con- ] emplated elevation of your father to a partner- i hip in the house of Felix & Co., will soon place ] is, (if your father continues to exercise the busi- i teas talent which he unquestionably possesses) in ' yositions nearly bo." ' "I know it," said Janie, again; "Then what is against me, Janie? Socially, my ' upericr; pecuniarily, almost my equal; intellect- i tally, certainly so; whj- will you deny me ?" He 1 oolc her hand, and pressed his arm around her. 1 'Janie, thus we stood one year ago, in such a dim ight, with the flowers breathing out their fragrant ireath around us, and there I told you I loved you. V >1! .Tftnifi. mv answer then was. in a nassion of ears, in a perfect abandon of emotion, in Weighted and glistening eyes, in a tremulous iip, and n a long fervent embrace of perfect trust Bar- i ing be as you were then, the woman I worshipped, he loving girl I have never forgotten. Janie, will i 'ou give me your love ?" Oh! how pleadingly the tone of tender entreaty 1 ell upon Janie'a heart She drewaway from him J ,nd shook her head. "Why, Janie?" he asked. "Don'task me," said she, impatiently. "But lxoiU know," said he, vexed that she , hould so resist him. "You will know!" said she proudly; "then lisen and I will tell you. Because you are unworhy the love of any true woman. You would not lare to do a generous act, if the world would conlemn you; no, nor a noble one if the world was lot by to applaud. You say I loved you; yes, ind so I did, and it is all expressed in the past ense. But for what ? For anything inherent in yourself? God knows, no. My sense may have ieen charmed, my tenderness led captive; I was Irawn by impulse, not by principle, and you uncovered my idol, and showed me what a miserable :hing of clay I was worshipping. You taught me to worn the passion I had wickedly called love, and iow I thank you for it, and bless God I have been jo delivered. "Oh I no, Mr. Wilcox, it has not been little Jalie Carter you have been worshipping; but the voman who has lived down the reproach of poverty, who was elevated to her own true position ay the work God gave her to do. You say true, I im socially and intellectually, your equal?but I im morally, your superior ; and know that the ' -/? 1 __ poor girl would not mate witn one 01 your ciay. No, not if you possessed the wealth of all the In3ies. My partner in life you might become, but my help meet, my other self in weal or woe, nevir I You would make the high and holy mystery rf wedded life a speculation in trade. You do not realize that there is a power for good in it beyond estimation; that the soul must be filled with-unselfish love, must be strong in unflagging faith, and that she that is enthroned in a wife's loving place, must have no doubt, no distrust in the truth, the rectitude, the unwavering honor of the man whose love should fill her heart" "And you reject me?" said he. How handsome he looked as he stood before her, every feature quivering with emotion. "I do," said Janie, firmly. "Spite of all this tragic outbreak, you reject me, loving Janie! Some other timeyou will think better of this," said he, in the low seductive tones, which, he knew so well, could lead Janie's sen* captive. She felt the spell, but pressing her Hps firmly together, she assumed a dignity that her heart was not sanctioning, as she said: "No, I will not think better of it, now or ever. I do not love you in the high and holy sense in which I accept the word. . Nor do you love me enough to give you courage to face trouble for my sake, nor decision to meet and save me from that trouble when it oomes. But this wearies me?let us go back." She turned as she spoke. "As you will," said he, with a nonchalant shrug. "I felt it due to myself, to renew these addresses." She saw Be was going to cany it through with oool indifference. "Exactly," said she, looking up at him with a steady gaze, "and I felt it due to myself to reject He bit his lip. ' Take my arm, Miss Jauie. It has been a dreadfully stupid evening?has it not?" said be, as they left the conservatory.. 'Tea?" said she, questioningly. "Ihave, really enjoyed it Bat then it is 'such a feast of reason' to be with Mr. Dunbar. My whole evening has been merged in the honr I spent with him."-' ' "Indeed! What an Adonis he most be, to please Miss Janie's artistic fancy," said he, sarcastically. "No, not an Adonis; I should rather call him a Nestor. Were he the former, he might prove, with his attainments, egotistical and vain; nature denying him striking graces of person, has preserved the happy medium, by endowing him with social, intellectual and moral qualities," said she, in tire gravest and most matter-of-fact manner possible, as if correcting an erroneous opinion. "Bat listen; that is Mag singing?let us go nearer." "Yon have not lost your passion for music," said be. "I will lose it when I lose my faith in humanity," said she, with enthusiasm; "when I lose the breath that is my life." "Miss Margaret plays very sweetly, bat for the life of me, I cannot find a tune in that she is playing now. Listen?a bang in the base, a twitter in the treble, now a chaos of octaves, now 'a Babel worse confounded,' all sound and fury; aodyou call that art?" said he, knowing how such strictures displeased Janie. "Yes, " said Janie, "bnt an art, which a celebrated master says the common herd will never reach, because it is only reached by purity of heart, by prayer, by belief in the incomprehensible. You say you can find no soul, no feeling in that? Listen?that is Beethoven I know. How grand and calm I What solemn mournfnlness! What tragic beauty! There is a divine language there. It is the spirit speaks?it is the ay of the soul we hear.'' "Now, MiBS Janie,' yo\i are incomprehensible. I acknowledge I have no sympathy for yoar aesthetic flights. Music, high art and divine philosophy, I do not pretend to understand," said he, shrugging his shoulders in inimitable sang froid. "What treason is that against music?" said Bunbar, who was standing near, i "Nothing; only I am contending that as Miss Janie views it, it is a very impraotical thing in this every day world. She would make it not only the temple, the priestess and the altar, but the sacrifice and the offering;" said Wilcox. "No, Mr. Wilcox, " said Janie gravely, "I do not make it everything to the shutting out of earnest work, of holy duty. But I do say it not only smooths the asperities of life, but it elevates the disciple. I do say the heart is softened, the soul strengthened, the mind invigorated under its influence. Call it divine philosophy if you will; it is Ufe, philosophy, and as such I contend for it" Her eyes sparkled, and her cheek glowed. Dunbar looked at her curiously. "Music is an exorcist and sorceress to you, Miss Carter," said he. "Yes," replied the enthusiastic girl, "to recall and to create; and when I give utterance to what it teaches me, they call me a rhapsodist and aesthetic," said she, petulantly. "What a child she is," he thought "I see you have a spirit-kingdom, Miss Carter,, and your sorceress can easily enchant the soul and lap it in melodious elysium. The shrill treble, as these unartistic natures call it is to you a childlike plaint, a dumb sorrow, a pleading remonstrance, or a gleaming, flashing, darting light which portrays gladness, joy, or gentle happiness. Die bang in the base?is that not what you call it Wilcox??is a storm cloud, or a raging sea. Fierce waves dashing into a tumultof harmonies, a volcanic throe pouring out masses of sound, a tempest of feeling threatening to engulf the soul which is its fountain." She turned on him a quick earnest look. "You understand it?" she asked. He smiled, "Your poetry of it certainly." She looked restless and uneasy. "But it is not all poetry," said she impatiently. "Let me hear your reason for it then," said he smiling. She pouted, looking the child she' was, as she said, "Women do not reason, they only feel. When pou can paint heaven,. then you may define the emotion of the soul. And music and song is the gate of heaven to you, truly "A kingly palace gate, With frontispiece of diamond and gokl Embellished, thick with (parkllng orient gemi The portal ahore, inimitable on earth By model or by vhading pencil drawn." said Dunbar, looking into the depths of her eyes, as if he would read the soul there. The earnest look, the low musical voice, the brilliant image thrilled Janie with strange power. She half whispered, "And though vast the space of ample radiance ; My view with ease takes in the lull dimensions ot tnat joy." His look expressed surprise aud pleasure, at the apt rejoinder. She blushed and laughing said, "There is Dante against your Milton, Mr. Dunbar. But here is Mr. Wilcox, looking as if we had made an Icarus flight, for which our wings would certainly be burned as punishment of our temerity." "Janie," said Margaret approaching her, "let us go home. 1 am so wear}*." "What is the matter Mag,' are you sick?" said Janie, frightened at her white face. "No, no; do not speak so loud," she whispered, "only weary, but if you are enjoying yourself I will stay." Janie langhed a low bitter laugh. "Enjoying myself 1 yes; like the Spartan youth with the wolf at the vitals. Come, I am more than ready."" "Find Annie then and let us go. Do not disturb John, he is with Mary. I have just left him; we can leave word for him," said Margaret '' You should not hav.e song Mag,'' said Janie, as she left her. Mr. Newton was standing near Margaret, in the cloak room, when Janie returned with Annie. 1 * ? If !J "wnere is your cioax, xtjuss jiargaret r saiu Hunter. "Mr. Newton hasit, I believe," she said. Her voice sounded weak and trembling. Newton was by her side in an instant "You are not well, Miss Margaret ?" She smiled a sweet sad smile. "Quite well; only tired." Give me the cloak, Newton," said Hunter, in a peremptory tone. "You are not expected to know anything about cloak room etiquette. You are out of your vocation, man." He took the cloak from his hand. Newton made Borne gay rejoinder, and turned to assist ,Annie. i. Hunter arranged the cloak wound Margaret with ' thbInawTjiwn' eiie.& "Thank you," said die, in a voice almost ini audible. He took her band and plaoed it in hkarm; then as he led her to the carriage said, "I may call and seeyouf"* " * For an instant she was still, and he felt the hand trembling. ' J ^ **'* "I think not," she answered, in the lowest tone. (T am engaged all day, and at nightl am often too weary to come down stairs." "Margaret 1" She bent her head?an almost sob was the answer. "Very well," said he, proudly. He handed her to the carriage?then went round to the other door. Her hand was' resting on the window. In an instant he placed his upon it: it was useless to resist the firm, gentle pressure. Annie took her seat. "Miss Annie, wiHyou allow me to call and pay my respects to your mother?" said Hunter. Annie looked at Margaret, 1 "Miss Janie," said he, not waiting for a reply, "Wilcox would not give me an opportunity of renewing our acquaintance. I claim the privilege of friendship,' and will test your hospitality in the morning." Janie at once replied^ gracefully and kindly. Dunbar was also asking the same privilege; Wiloox was whispering a low good-bye; Annie and Mr. Newton were having some last words. "Margaret, may I oome?" Stephen Vhispered. She did not answer. "Thank you; I knew it" He released the little hand to grasp and prese it to his lips; then, with a half-murmured "good night" cried* "Boys do not keep the ladies waiting here all night," stepped back from the carriage, raised his hat, for an instant bent his proud, head, then dashing hack with his picturesque manner, the heavy hair from hi.t brow, he turned and entered the house. Margaret saw italL White; and trembling, she looked at the little hand as if it had been burned, dashed it from her, then pressing it to her heart she covered it there, and drew far back in the carriage, pale, trembling and silent. [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 eariy.] A MOTHER'S EPITAPH. The following beautiful lines arc inscribed upon a tombstone in an old churchyard near Mount Vernon, Va: Never more to hear her saying, "Darling, are you ill, or well rr Gently on our forehead laying ' > Hands that like a blessing fell? Oh, my mother, never mora f' Never more to wonder, sighing, When the busy day will close; So with heart to heart replying, We may tell its Joys and woes? Oh, my mother, never more! Never more to feel her gliding \ By the bed her prayers bad blest, * With her hand the candle hiding, Lest it should disturb our rest? Oh, my mother, never more ! Never more to know she's keeping, Watch o'er all we say or do; Fondly anxious, waking, sleeping, With a care forever new? Oh, my mother, never morel Other hands may gently tend us, Other hearts be leal and true,~ Other loves their treasures lend us, But they cannot love like you? Mother! mother! never more! LEARN A TRADE. Is there a city in our whole South where the lamented fact is not patent, that honest labor is shunned by our youth, and the trades deserted for the less lucrative, but easier positions behind the desk or the counter ? It is a sad fact, that we have in our midst a score-or more of robust young men ( out'of employment, and not one in the range of " our acquaintance is learning a trade or one of the useful arts. Our play grounds and our streets ; plainly exhibit the sad spectacle of unprofitable pride, struggling against poverty. It is hoped the , recent great change in our labor system will tend to dignify honest labor, and that the day is about I to dawn when our work-shops, forges and printing offices will hum with busy candidates acquiring that which fortune or the vicissitudes of life cannot filch from them?a good trade. Stephen Girard had a favorite clerk, and he alwai'ii ft&id he. "intended to do well by Ben. Lin pincott So when Ben got to be twenty-one, he expected to hear the governor say something of his future prospects, and perhaps lend a helping hand in starting him in the world. Bat the old fox carefully avoided the subject. Ben mustered cootage. "I suppose I am now free, sir," said He, "and I thought I would say something to ybd as to my future course. What do you think I had better do?" "Yes, yes, I know you are," said 1 the millionaire, "and my advice is to go and learn j the cooper's trade." This application of ice nearly froze Bern out; but recovering his equilibrium, he said if Mr.Girard was in earnest he would do so. "I am in 1 earnest," and Ben. forthwith sought the best coop-' er in Spring Garden, became an apprentice, and, ' in due time, could make as good a barrel as the best He announced to old Stephen that he had 1 graduated, and was ready to set up in business. The old gentleman seemed gratified, and immediately ordered three of the best barrels he could turn out. Ben. did his prettiest, and wheeled them up to his counting room. Mr. Girard pronounced them first-rate, and' he demanded the , price. "One dollar," said Ben., "is as low as I can live by." "Cheap enough?make out your bill" The bill was made out and old Steven settled it with a check of $50,000, which he accompanied with this little moral ' "There, take that, and invest it in the best possible manner, and if you are unfortunate and lose it, you have a good trade to fall back upon, which will afford you a good living." ttlLTON HEAD. 1 A correspondent of the Savannah Nad, writing from Hilton Head, South Carolina, says: Of the numerous business houses, which, in other days, did such a thriving trade, scarcely one is in existence at the time I write. Nothing now remains but the small garrison, comprising a company or two of soldiers, who, with a few remaining negroes ' keen ud the little business of the place, !Hte nu mcrous private and government buildings, which comprised the settlement, are disappearing with greater rapidity than they were erected, and with the present prospect it is fair to presume that in a short time nothing will remain to show that such a place as Hilton Head ever existed. The tides 1 are making inroads into the town, and I notice 1 that in result, several buildings have fallen, the foundations having been washed away. The headquarters occupied by the different military commanders will soon follow suit, the Provost Marshal's office and quarters, if they remain in their present condition, cannot stand many weeks. The i old Palmetto Herald buildings have been removed i by the purohaser, leaving quite a blank on Mer- i chant's Row. Houses are pulled down almost < weekly for non-payment of post taxes, the owners < having left for more congenial shades. Bat al not as yet lost its importance with m&taiy 0<h6mandera, who strictly enforce payment of bytbat time, .it is ordered that "down comes yow aha- ty" from over your head, and y<m dadyoafej self without a house upon a new building sitas#-*** v The cotton crop is.worrothan a frthriw; incessant rains and the ootttm wormhaveKJosBpistaty destroyed the cotton crop, afldl adttttifyfeProfRT iieve that parties who came here to get rich by planting-Cotton wffl JetTeih disgust and despair, wdi m: ^ *15 the planting is in the hands of those raised to the t&" Some ladies think flirting a vefy inaoqs?fc,#? that the queen of England, who is a true lady "by nature as well as by birth, did not hcafcda to administer a severe xeboke to her daughter, whjft the latter was desirous of playing Ihafbrk . .*uia "One day, when the Queen Was ppurnt in bar carriage at the military'' retiew| theprihceistoyil/ then rather a wiMW gU afahofat Jgvtnp* ritting on the fro.it seat, seemed^ disposed^ to be tather of die escort Her majesty gave several reproving looks, without avail, "winked St her, but-afc^ wouldn't stay winked*' At length,infiirtsng her handkerchief over the side of thecarnage, rta dropped it too endehtly nofcwrictinM& &H stantly two o* three young hetoMiipMiif fiiM'Ifcfr saddles to return it to her hao$ but the :twfhf voice of royalty stayed them. "Stop," gentlemen,'* ^Uimed the Qaeep, "few, itjwtwtm* Ml Now, my daughter, get down from the $)$lgjj[ -. sod pick op yonf handkerchief" There wsa aq help for it The royal fbotaaaaJetdoimTthtfktspi for the little royal lady, who.prooeede^ttfdift Aoa the dost the pretty piece of cambric andltak AW btohed a gooddeal; though sbe thMad hiw bead?: saucily, sad she was doubtless angry enough; hi# > the mortifying lesson may have mppedjh tbe^Bu her first impulse towards coquetry., but it was wholesome. How qtaqg American mothers would be equal to such a piece of Spartan discipline ?" Cholera. ?A Mississippi planter gave employe ment daring the past seaaoo'to tirirty ordEbrty negroes. The cholera broke out among the?* and~a physician was called, whose Utifcireri quick success. And old however, was'not satisfied with thd^it^h^'dfl^ fairs, and with a great show of reverential awe made it koowntqj Ms cure one handful of salt and thSSSoSfSuflSb and at beneath * sycamore tree-and awalkro the contents of both hands, taking first, a mouthful of salt and a bite of fiss. the cure' thai WOfdd ehsud would be sufficiently miraculous to show* direct Providential interference in their belief. Accord: ingly twelve negroes threw away stuff," and supplying themselves with the figs and ask, and seating themselves under tim charmed sycamore, proceeded tri dots? flrfdAeKtl drfPhJiiir The result was rather miraeddt^lbr 'AMBPW them never left the Spot-!' ^tei4ltdlW '> rr^> ' ???n? i ' ;.v )bfetfr \kjitvi7 Thb Wool Market.?1The Mowing is an extract from a letter of a Southern man to bis Northern friend: rt*. * You say you went into the wool busmesB during the rebellion. Well, I went into it just befeffwl? the tune of $12,000, and have not now a lock to show for it feat I suppose there was'thUdififap ence, yon bought white sheep and I black ansa My sheep were never sheared, bat they- wait M| profitable stock. And now one of A#i IBBjS strong inclination to run vnth me You insinuate that you wonldliketo jnieg* whioh code I lost my property. Itwas, rouaffghft on both sides. The neoesh burned my HBettwt4w the other side took my slavee,and enry- pbot devil in the country who had a beg, belpedto distribute my conpfMy mules and horses Straigld stole first, and t^rnupon^ Straight. . ' a Skip Saved atSea bt Pumping Oil* Over? board.?The xharine tradition that iwee^'caa hd" saved in a storm at sea by pouring tnl upon the. water, has lately been verified?if the tale is true-?. in the woaderfui, jnstaaoo'<^ a oil and blubber, and voyaging .from &L~ Jbhafrt Newfoundland, to Bristol, England. According to the story, in a terrible storm the vessel was thrown on her beam ends, the WW riuf one suggested the oil.retnedyyandw hogshead was broached and pumped overboard. "The effect," says the narrative, "was marvellous; around the ship the sea appeared as though there wasa.calgfe ?nd. in ?nite nf a tremendous sale, the sea neidr broke on"board for the eight- days the veaselky to:'-New York World - :j . ... ? ? i i, ' lj feifcWtIS" Nuremberg may fairly claim to be. th&eity of inventors. A paper mil] was built here in 1330. Cannon were east in 1336. A maehina fa drafttag wire was put m to operation in In 1660 . claims the honor of first manufacturing playing cards, egg-shaped watches and gun locks; and in a dungeon under one of the towers of the old city wall there is to be seen at this moment a machine called the Iron Virgin, which opens by seeftA springs, and is armed inside with spikesS, which pierced the body of the victim thrust into iteitfittl folds. The guillotine is also said to be a Nuremberg invention jr. cmnan IMqutrrr ays that tne sole issue on wniopi General (Vy was elected to Congress in Ohio, at the late election, was that of paying the aatknri debt in greenbacks. The Congressional Djstactin which he was elected gave the Republican State and county ticket 1700 majority, hut the Republican candidate for Congress advocated the oaustf of the national banks and die bondholders, and die weight was more than he could oany. The Ek~ quirer says, "It was the greenback questionthet elected General Caiy, the first of neady all tie Western Congressmen, wno will next year b^-efcbsen on this issue." ^ ^ ^ : : - ?4p!|| W. Singular Conduce Negro Jurors.?The Fall Term of the Court of Common Pbasibr Marlboro' District, now in session,convened hut Mon* day, his Honor, Judge Gkmaypresiding. In nocordance with General Orders, a new jury was im- *1 panelled on Monday. Two negroes who hiitVftj|H[ their taxes, were chosen, but as somas they hoafrd of the fiust, they left for parts ataknawn, one gafeg toward the North Carolina line, aad the icing the swamp. They did not appear wififag^to siton juries with white people. Several important cases have been litigated and disposed of, and it is quite probable that the whole wtfek will beoccapSsd in the trial of important <?aes.~2fe7M4*w& Jour '-'t , |i IXVALUABLI Rim*DT.?Ihte London Lancet, regarded as the highest medical authority in the world, gives the Mowing as an infidbhle ewe for small pox and scarlet fever: Sulphate grab; fox-glove (digital*,) onrf spoonftti of sngar; mix with two tMwONiiU^of water. Uake a tea-spoonMt/mf hairf Higher disease will disappear m twehre hwn* fhr wehild, smaller doses, aoftordirtg to age. *'