Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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i r t ' t * ^ " ^" ^ l^__?^^^'"" _ ^?| , LEWISM.^GRIST, ^,, ^rtbcpenbcni Jfamiljr $jUi?spqitr: Jfor tjw promotion of tfrt political, Seoul, ^.grirnlteal mtb Conmttrciitl Jfntoesfs of f|o Jsonfjr. . TERMS?$3.5ft PEit Aajjmi, , VOL. 13. " YORKVILLE, S. Q~ THUB8DAY, NOVEMBEB 14, 1867. ; iTOi 391 f j|n Original ?jtottvrletft. | Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE WEALTH OF HOME. A STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE. BY MRS. M. A. EWART, AUTHORESS OP "ELLEN CAMPBELL, OB KINO'S MOUNTAIN," AND OTHER STORIES. . CHAPTER VII Hunter had been to the city several times. The first time, he called to see them; but the visit was stiff and formal, and was not repeated. Wiloox had also called; but, after the second denial, did not repeat the visit Mr. Newton was often with them, and, indeed, was welcomed more like a dear relative than any- j thing else. John became every day more attaohed * " 5 -1 J ill aLa Ja? 1 to Him, ana iroquenuy aeciarcu u? waa cue ucv , erest fellow be knew, in spite of his "clothbut 1 he supposed "Itte placet Deo, cuiplacet Deus." 1 Newton, "though he was a parson, was a noble fel- 1 low; he did not know any one whom he liked bet- * ter. It was n good thing, too, that he did like him, j for he supposed he was going to marry Mag, and j then he would be his brother. He thought Mag ? ' would make him a good wife; they seemed so fond of each other, but"?and here John would whistle, ? kiss Annie, "swear some men were great fools, and ^ declare that, if he was Newton, he knew what he would do;" all of which pantomime and inuendo, he felt no one but himself perfectly understood, and chuckled at the idea of his "ex tripode" mystery. Dunbar frequently accompanied Newton, and p delighted them all by the spirited and graphic r sketches of his travels. His pictures of oriental , soenery were, to Janie, peculiarly charming. He spoke of the East, the land of promise, of luxury, of Hebraie interest, and sacred lore. He carried F her imagination to Lebanon, and gathered in all u its beauties, from its snowy peaks to the rich gardens at its base. The undulating line of its promontories and bays, its terrace upon terrace, its b flat-roofed houses, half hid among the clustering n vines, the groves of mulberry, orange and lemon. " Then rock-frontedCarmel claimed her interest; its heights of pine and olive, and luxuriant meadows, q Or on the sacred soil of Judea, the glories of Je- j; rusalem would be opened for her; the three-topped ? hill of Olives, across whioh old King David went, g] and where holier footsteps trod, rising immediate- b ly behind ih And here Newton would speak of v? ? ? '11 j . the ancient Temple, witn its piuars auu puruwta, lc | its golden roof glittering in the sun, and its Holy u of Holies where God dwelt in viable glory. He b would tell of the royal palace near, built of the ft cedar of Lebanon, where David and Solomon dwelt, b and where, in later timos, king Herod held high & court. Then Dunbar would speak of the sunk Vi Temple, of the desolated city of the Great King, of dry, wasted, sterile lands; of hot, burning suns; of bare and frowning peaks; of yawning preci- b pices; of peril, and darkness, and gloom. p Suddenly, while Janie's cheek was paled in sym- p pathy, he would bring back the warm oolor, by p presenting some glowing picture of oriental beau- p ty. Cool streams and welcome shade would dot $ the landscape. Bright white buildings, long e] 8tfeets,T)toy ^bazaars, sparkling fountains, lovely palm trees and delicious fruits would rise before gj her; and the great and beautiful city of Damascus, u) with its 120,000 inhabitants, would be presented. " The pearl surrounded by emeralds,' some east- ^ ern writer calls it," said he. "The golden streams ^ of Abana and Pharphar, never failing ones, as ^ 'Abana' literally means, still come tumbling from ^ the heights of Lebanon ; and, winding in graceful curves through the flat plains, carry beauty and a] freshness with them. m The city is embosomed in gardens and olive a trees; and it is said of an Arabian Prince, that ^ when he was on his way to Damascus, and first be- ty | held it, he stopped his horse and refused to go any a further, erecting on the spot, where its towers first ti burst upon his view, a monument with the fol- }B lowing inscription :?'T expect to enter one Para- pi dise *, but if I enter this city, I shall be so ravished w with its beauty as to lose sight of the Paradise ^ which I hope to enter." Bt From an elevation of one thousand feet, we look ^ down upon a fertile plain, amidst extensive gar- fa dens, forming a circuit of twenty-five or thirty ai milea The distance is bounded by blue mountains, y( and occupied by a luxuriant forest of walnut, fig, pomegranate, plum, apricot, citron, locust, pear ,jj 3 rTTL ~ nninwnr TCrfvOinrVlf una uypie. iuc aucvu aic uanv?, uu? unq, but of regular width. Conceive, rising in the dis- ^ tance, five hundred magnificent houses, each with g, its nana! and fountain; then its numerous mosques, e; adorned with fine marble, like mosaic pavement, m with their gilded crescents and marble minarets. In the centre of all this, and winding to- m wards the city, is a beautiful river ; natural and ec artificial Btreams are all around; and in the city, j( birds, with their lovely plumage, are hiding them- & selves in the branches of the luxuriant trees. & Flewers of endless variety and beauty, among them the celebrated Damask rose, are diffusing a p] . grateful perfume. ei f In the distance camels are approaching, laden ez with goods, bringing India manufactures from Bag-, re dad, Mecca and Aleppo. The rich turbans and bi flowing robes of the merchants contrast finely with gi the rude sheep skin of the mountaineer, and the ai dark garment of the wandering Arab. Then the tl deep blue of the sky, so intense, so cloudless; the atmosphere, so pure and fragrant; the air, so light ai aqd soft; the stillness, so unbroken; all lap the in soul in elysium, and we feel the luxury of oriental w repose. The novelty, the strangeness, the bewil- tl dering beauty is perfectly seducing 1 si He told her of Mount Ida,,with its beautiful ei woods and sparkling streams; of the spot which Greek and Latin poets have invested with such a< sacred interest; of the lofty Grecian Mountain, I Athos, in the blue distance, the mountain in which Alexander contemplated cutting a statue, in which tl - a city of 10,000 inhabitant should be held in one ai hand, and all the waters of its lofty sides caught t< in the other and sent in a thundering cascade into n the valley. Now, redeemed from barbaric hands, fc it is called the Holy Mount On its sides are * ? A?!?? ll, VM/vmLQ V* twenty monasteries, containing su muuaauuuuuu. u Their libraries are rich in literary treasures, res- oi i cued from Turkish hands before the taking of Con- vi ' stantinople. He told her of the islands of the sea; w of beautiful Cypress risiDg, like her own fair God- tl dess, from the Ocean, filling the eyes with a vision a of hill and valley, and wooded promontoiy; then tl of Samothrace, where Neptune sat upon the lofty w cliffs, animating the Trojan heroes ; of his ocean ir * cares between Imbros and Tenedos; of rocky ki Chios, with its many ancient memories; the later tc battles of the Turkish hordes; and the still ceTe- ei brated blood of "Scio's vine of the Sporades, "sown in the sea;" of Rocky Patmos; of the re grotto in which St John is said to have written, st in his exile, the Apocalypse; of mountainous Paros, with its white quarries; *of Antiparos, ever ex celebrated as the birth place of Phidias and Prax- qi iteles; of ancient Naxos, with its extraordinary tl fertility; of the ruins of the Temple of Bacchus, s< and the fountain of Ariadne. And here he would pause to tell the stoiy of the abandoned Ariadne, ei weeping for her lost Theseus ; and as he would g turn towards her, Janie would wonder at the al- A most tremulous tone, and look in his face with an innocent surprise, as, in his low winning voice, he n would tell of how a God consoled her, and place the golden crown of wedlock on her brow. An then he told her how "Delos rose and Phoebe sprunghow the fugitive Latona found there a asylum and a sanctuary; how from the foundatior jf the earth there arose pillars to support the i: land, sacred from the birth of two divinities; ho< softly the winds visited it; and how temples spran up to praise its tutelary divinities, Apollo and D ma; its beautiful statues and vases immortalize by Cicero. Now it is the abode of pirates, an lothing is left of its magnifioenoe but splendi ruins. Then of Sicily, with its towering Etna ev< tending up a dull and sluggish cloud of vapor. Greece, >with all its classic associations, he! nuoh to interest her. Athens' 'the eye of Greece, he centre of art, eloquence, philosophy and scienct was first spoken of. Part of the Acropolis is sti standing; and he pictured it for her, as it stoo u ancient times, its rocky crags, with its temple ind the gold and ivory statute of Athenae, with lelmet on her head, and a spear in her hand uade from the brazen shields and spears taken a Vlarathon. Stepping into the Parthenon, nothin 1 . * 1 1 ? C 1 ll.r emains qui utokcu cuiuuiiig, xiguxca ujl ucauicc vomen, a mutilated building ; but yet a ruin c jrandeur and sublimity. He spoke of the monu nents of Neptune, Jupiter, Ceres, Minerva, Apo] o, Mercury and the Muses; the statues of Conor Sparninondas, Demosthenes, Phillip, Alexander rhemistocles, Miltiades and Solon, and a host c ithere, of which but one remains; the groves Academies and Lyceums, where the philosopher tad labored in vain to discover, by the light of na ore, the great realities of the future; and nor nly ruined walls, or a few ancient olive trees ar 0 be seen. The Pynx, the place of public delib ration, with its tribunal cut from the solid rock emains uninjured by the ravages of time. A fer uined pillars alone attest the ancient splendor o be Piraeus. But every ruin, every fragment attests tho all ervading art and taste of this people; and thei ich treasures still reward well-directed research But the shore is voiceless," said he, "Th* heroic lay Is tuneless now, Th' heroic bosom beats no more !" ut standing on Marathon, or Thermopylae, or th< ecky brow of "sea-born Salarais," who would no fondly dream the Grecian free again." Such memories, invested as they were with in ident and association, possessed for Janie, thril ng interest She seldom spoke, for his conver ition was almost entirely directed to Annie, but be would sit on a low seat near, one hatid half id among her curls, as she leant upon it, listening ith a dreamy interest; or, roused by some histor 1 memory, her clasped hands and eager face woulc istify to her deep sympathy. Margaret, sitting y "the side of Newton, was constantly turning om the rich, mellow, musical eloquence of Dun ar, to listen to the sweet, clear tones of Newton. 3 he would occasionally interrupt Dunbar to in est the graphic picture with sacred interest "At mid-day, on the road to Damascus, a great ght shines suddenly," and Saul of Tarsus lies lind and speechless. "I am Jesus whom thou ersecutest." Brief sermon, more solemn and owerful than Peter preached to the thousands at 'entecost Cyprus "the Blest," in the days ol 'aul, was the scene of the conversion of one of the sw "noble" who are called; and the Roman Goymor believed and loved the Saviour. Now the apostolic suocessor of tho pilgrim misonary lives in a palace of an hundred chambers, ;tended by upwards of thirty priests and bishops. It was in Troas, a city in which Paul, with his iste and scholarship, must have been interested, lat a figure, like a "man of Macedonia," appear1 to the Gentile Apostle, crying "come over, and elpus." It was in the city of Athens that Paul "stood onean idol-crowded capitol, of which Petroni3 says, "it is easier to find an idol god than a tan." This Jew scholar, speaking their pure .ttic tongue, and quoting their poets, was not on' an acute reasoner, but attained, in his eloquence, sublimity and beauty equal to their own Demosienes. See the bold and fearless advocate, standig on Mars' Hill, where Pericles had stood, and reclaiming to them "The unknown God." There here the silver headed Socrates, the apostle ol itural reason, stood on the charge of introducing range gods; there where he was sentenqed to rink the cop of hemlock, declaring, in his lofty ith, "ye men of Athens! I am obliged to you id thank you; but I must obey God rather than iu," now stood, in the midst of Grecian sages, lis bold and vigorous Roman citizen, without Isplay, without exercising his natural gifts of eloaence, of deep and profound reasoning, simply, jautifully, and comprehensively declaring the reat truths of the Gospel. Listen to the noble cposition: "There was one God; that He dwell ot in temples; that the world was not only made, at sustained by Him; that all mankind were oi te blood; that they had fallen away from rightnisness; that God had sent His son, Jesus, to rejem them; that He had raised Him from the tad as an earnest of future life; that a# men must ' judgedat the last day." "I have seen," said Margaret, "a copy ofRabael's famous cartoon, 'Paul preaclyng at Athis,' and was much struck with the artist's definition of it. The figures at the extreme left repsent frowning indignation, hardened in unbelief; ? '? it- - ~~Cl? i.'ll 1 it, Step Dy step, me matures suiteu mi mcjr 11 to reason one with another, then they stand Tested; next convinced; till, finally, they stretch le hands in 'believing joy.' " Such conversations were of frequent occurrence; id, at each visit, Dunbar seemed more interested i the sweet and simple dignity of Annie. Once, hen Annie was out, Janie met him as he entered ie door. "Sister Annie is not at home," she lid, half hesitating, as if in doubt to ask him to iter. "Is she not!" said he, knitting his brow; then 3ded, "I would lik<? to have seen her. But may come in? She will be home soon, perhaps." Janie invited him in. She was half afraid ol ie stately, stern looking man. Had there been ay one else there, she would not have cared ; but ) be alone was like "bearding the lion," and she lore than half wished this 'Earl Douglas' would ike himself off. He sat, too, as if he expected her to entertain im; and never did she recollect herself so barren f ideas. A few platitudes on health, with all its icissitudes and diseases, sporadic and epidemic, ere briefly discussed. The second phenomenon, ie weather, was gravely exhausted. There was dead silence. "What shall I talk about?" lought Janie; "where are all the topics which obody cares about, and yet which every one can isist on; where are the facts which every one nows, yet will bear amplification; how is it thai rogue and brain should desert me in such an nergency I" Janie was visibly embarrassed. She moved :stlessly?her face flushed; she felt rather than iw those keen eyes searching her face. All at once she was seized with the irresistably ;<io? nf her ludicrous position. Her lips uivered in restrained laughter, but she was stared to gravity again by hearing Dunbar say, in a )rt of continued conversation way, "Yes, half words are worse than silence; and ither is death to conversation. It is hard to lx enuine, without perfect truth and trust; is it not, liss Janie?" Janie scarcely'knew how to reply, but it did not eed. He spoke of conversation as "mental mu d sic," of truth, trust and life being necessary to it. 1 d He spoke of the beauty of the countenanco in i is it; he drew a glowing picture of nature ; the for- i n est, the sky, the sea, in sunshine and in storm, and 1 is likened the human countenance to it The shade 3- on the hill, the light on the flower, less beautiful 1 w than the calm of thought on the brow, or the blush g on the cheek. The dancing sunlight, the soft fal- < i- ling rain, less beautiful than the human faoe, jovd ous or impassioned, subdued or afflicted, d And then the voice, deep and strong in man- ' d hood's prime, or low and sweet in woman ; 'music ? ;r from the soul to it' And how sweet the memory of itl at home or abroad, by land or by sea, re- c d curring often in new accents, or forever slumbering; ? " how dear the liquid tones, s, Then he spoke of the eloquence of home, the i 11 eloquence of woman as she was found pleading 1 d with tears, with her misguided husband; a sister's ts voice encouraging some tempted brother; a daugh- a a ter welcoming a father; a maiden whispering lini, gering words to one dearer than life, what can ,t Compare to it? g He spoke of conversation giving impulse?an is impulse which meditation or reading will not give; * >f for in the one we are thrown in upon ourselves, t i- and in the other the mind is passive. But in the 1- presence of humanity there is power, and the mag- n i, netism of social intercourse calls out all our mental i' ', energy. i f Then he spoke of the great talkers of society? b i, the'thinkers aloud;'of Johnson,'strong minded I s and strong hearted.' Indolent, and averse to the ? labor of composition, conversation gave expression o v to his teeming intellect A Goliah and a David? b e strong to wield a beam, and nimble to whirl a peb- " - ble, he was at all times invincible. , He spoke of Madame De Stael, imaginative and n r artistic, mystical and vivacious, eloquent, wise ^ f and strong, 'a goddess on the Olympus of oompo- e sition,' and yet "at heart a veiy woman; preserving Q - in a mind fitted to discuss science, law and politics, ^ r a gentle, tender, womanly sympathy, whiqji kept . her heart young to the grave. p Of Macintosh, of Coleridge, who like Socrates, was 'a teacher of teachers.' Who without possess ing the intensity and unity of the ancient seer, Q could so combine reason and imagination, that 2 'philosophy was music, and thinking became a n song.' To such conversation, or rather rippling g talk, Janie could have listened forever; but he suddenly asked, g l . "What is the best charm of conversation, Miss g Janie?" w r "You have just told me," said she; "truth and ' trust." <] I "You are prompt at catching a lesson," he re- 0] r plied, with his beaming smile. "I should have jc ) added self-revealing also. I am curious to know | if our tastes harmonize; so instead of inflicting K longer upon you my talk, let us have some conver- n, [ sation." e, He then introduced books and authors, and g , without asking direct questions, he proved Janie g, j to the utmost. Some new idea every moment was jE riven, which Janie's versatile and plastic mind a I seized and presented in language of brilliant beauty, . She was not conscious of the thought, the origi- ?? ? nality, the strength, which his acute questions p, , roused in her; but light and sparkling as the foam a] on champagne, her brilliant fancy flashed and ^ glanced. a| Art, science, literature, travel, aneodote, nature, ^ were all discussed. ft Janie's concentrative energy, her sparkling ver- 0| ( satility, her vivid alternations, were 'the true and tj. perfect image of life indeed.' He drew out all her tr resources, quickened all her faculties, and she felt ^ I as if under some Promethean hand, rousing her cj not only to life, but to a life vigorous and true. [ How long they talked she did not know; the c] . time seemed short, and yet it must have been )a k hours, for Annie was home. ft , He arose to go. tl "Sister Annie has just come," said she; "will you not wait and see her?" He smiled an amused smile; she did not under- ft , stand it. tl [ "Not now," said he; "if Miss Annie will allow , me, perhaps, to-night I will see her." ? They were all sitting out in their cool piazza that ft , night, when Annie said, "John is coming; I hear ^ J his voice." tl "That is simply an imagination of yours, Annie, y You know it is about time for John to come home, , and you think if you do not hear him, you ought to," said Janie. ta . "No," replied Annie, "I cannot be mistaken in , John's laugh; it is so careless, so free, and so jj, hearty withal?there it is again. Is not that tl I John?" , "You are right, Annie, it is John; let us go and ; meet him," said Janie. h< "Stop, Janie, some one is with him," said the ? more prudent Annie. "Perhaps it is a stranger." K "Oh ! I forgot to tell you. Mr. Dunbar will be here to-night; he told me to tell you to-day," said TC , Janie. I "Did he?" replied Annie quietly. it -- - - l> -M T !. (ITf "Annie, how passive you are, saia ^aiue. xi ^ I had a lover like Persy Dunbar, I should be per- sc fectly wild." "But Percy Dunbar is not my lover," said An- gj nie; "therefore, it would be very much out 6f sc place, for me to commit any extravaganzas." w "He is not? I should like to know what he comes here then for?" said Janie, curiously. "Not to see me, certainly," said Annie. te "Yes, Annie," said Janie, laughing; "literally to see you, for he never looks at anything else." it "Yes, he does," replied Annie, with quiet hu- y( mor, "He looks at the door sometimes, if our party is not complete." as Janie looked at Margaret?Annie laughed. fe i '' 'The chief s amang you takin notes,' but 'faith' g( Annie, 'prent them,' " said Janie. "Call the book 'Earl Douglas,' as you'call him, ga and"dedicate it to you?" said Annie. tv "Our Annie descend to railery I" cried Janie, in ? affected surprise. "Do you want a motto ? Let p] i mo give you the opening stanzas of Burns' Death n( ; and Doctor Hornbook. Becollect them, Annie ? tb j "Some books nrc lies frae end to end." ^ [ Let us consign the volume to merited oblivion, gj But, hush! it is Dunbar, and who is that with i him?" d( i "Mr. Hunter 1" said Janie, warmly, as she ex- Cr i tended her hand. tb The young man grasped it "I was sure of a welcome from you, Miss Janie," said he, in a low I' i tone; then went forward to speak to the other sj members of the family. ai i Newton was also with them, and the party took ki t their seats ; the soft moonlight just clear enough d( > to show the change of the countenance. ; "Well! this is pleasant," said Newton, throw- w i ine himself back, with an air of luxurious repose, in the large chair that John had wheeled out for B 1 him. i "Hunter I Dunbar! do you not feel the inspiration ? Come, give evidence of it," said he. J( r "I was just thinking," said Dunbar, "of Eve's i address to Adam in Paradise. If you will allow ar me to condense, I will give it to you ;" and drop- tl k ping his voice to a low, musical tone, he said: "Sweet is the breath of morn, pleasant the sun w i when first he spreads his orient beams on tree and si ! flower; fragrant the earth after soft showers, and ar , sweet the coming on of grateful evening. The silent night, and this fair moon, these gems of heav- sa ; en, and all the starry train. But neither morn, in nor charm of birds, nor rising sun, nor this delight- ei; fill land, nor fruit, nor flower, nor glistening dews nor fragrance' after showes, nor evening mild, no silent night, nor walk by noon, nor glittering star light, without thee it tweets "What do you think ofit, Miss Janie?" saic b e suddenly, bending his dep dark eyes upon her, Janie gave a trembling sgh. "I was thinking )f 'orient pearls at random itrung,' " she said. "When I look upon the leavens which were bj [hee ordained, and the noon and stars which [hine own fingers made; vhat is man that Thou ihonld'st be mindful of him" suid Newton. "What a perfect picture of domestic bliss, and ki\ninr*?l nAamian M11 fatl Ka ^Vi am '' ^/UJU^CM MUOUUVU A'AHVWH *IW f*WWUWU UiOiC) iiiid John. "Yes, his portraits stand rat upon the canvass, tainted with 'colors iipptd in heaven'" said [unter. >\ / "How beautiful herseE and how beautiful all around her, till tempted sb fell," said John. "When Ere broufbt wcxwtD Old Adam called her won*); And when he (bond ?he woed ao kind, He the*pronounced her woman," "Come, John; no satire oniear old Eve?if she :cu first in transgression, she was also first in virue," said Janie, "No one ever speaks of th< perfections of'our aother.' She only stands asun example that 'it 3 an evil and a bitter thing ;> sin against God.' Lnd yet sprung from God's land, in nobility, in lood, in illustrious desoent, iho is her superior? 11 wisdom, and knowledge ad genius, who her qual ? Iu purity, in truth^n virtue, who her ompcer? Iu happiness, wW more blessed? In eauty, Heaven on her cheek, heart on herhte, and aoul within her eyea!" "I am glad to hear you viiiicate her, Miss Jaie," said Newton. "I have never felt that we rere quite just to Eve. Butsee you are pre parti to take up the gauntlet fojyour sex. I am almost disposed to provoke it, !> hear your vindicalon of them." "I am not afraid of you,"ad Janie, "Iampreured on any ground." "Except the battle field," tid John. "Why Johnnie! with Britaiis Boadioea, Egypt's Cleopatra, the Roman Fulbrj Palmyra's martial lonobia, and the heroio Joatpf Are? Bat i am ot ambitious to claim the inrels of the battle eld; let us have the patriots spirit not so much ) demonstrtion, as in prinoipL We can with the eroism of the Spartan motbr, as she gives her c-y the shield, bid our fathers ind brothers, 'come ith it from the battle field or on it when 'tis one I' Or with Cornelia, in proud ambition say, [ would be known as the moier of the Gracchi r in the lofty spirit of Christmity teach that 'the ive of truth is the strength oLdl heroism.' "Now you can make a mostriumphnnt vindication Miss Janie,'* said Hater. "With such Q.mes as Elizabeth Fry, Dorthea Dix, and Florlce Nightingale; for what bu truth and love could s.ve won such women from bines of ease and afu.ence, to brave war, pestileie, vice?I may say ihumanity?and work day a! night for the smil, the suffering, the distress!I" "Let me add one other ntne," said Newton, Ann Hasseltine Judson. Sffering privation and eril for years, and then dyig upon an inhospitble heathen coast Such fames are sufficient to take us believe, as has beet beautifully said by 3other, that "if truth shoul ever be compelled i flee from the mansions ofthe great and noble, om the academics of pt&sophy, and the halls 7 legislation, from the tbnes of power and the trongs of busy men, we aould find her last rceat around the hearth stoes of Christian homes; er last sanctuary in the hirts of the women and lildren of our firesides; er last altar on earth ould be the female heart her last audience, the lildren gathered around le mother's knee; her at sacrifice, the secret pryer escaping in silenoe om her lips, and heard perhaps, only at the irone of God." It was late when the yong men arose to go. "I will tell you good nigt, and good bye, Miss largaret," said Hunter, a they stood grouped in ie piazza. "You are going home ?'baid she, questioningly. "JNo; lam goingJMort tortne summer, auu om thence to Europe, orather to Asia, as Dun),r purposes more of an Atatic and Egyptian tour i an European. Dunbar rill meet me in New ork the latter part of Setember, and we emjjk immediately afterward' said Hunter. "And you will return?wen ?" said she, hesi.tingly. "Perhaps in a year, perhps not for years, per:ips never," said he, and ae felt a bitterness in le tone. "Give me some token befrewe part," said he; siomething that I can look at and feel 'this was isrs,'will you not?" He plead so low and tederly. She pulled a ise from the vine. "Will that do ?" And site of her, her voice ifused to do other than whsper. He kissed it in his knight; manner, and placed near his heart "No; if will fade?give me imething more enduring; ? ring, a trinket, any luvenir," said he. She wore none; but a fewdays before she had ven Janie a ring simply chsed, the penalty of ime laughing wager. She-irew near Janie, and hispering, ' 'Lend it to me,'' drew it from her finir. "Will tbis do?" said she, rembling at her own merity. "Thank you I yea" He bok the hand, placed in his, and pressed it to h3 lips. "God bless ;.u, Margaret," he whispereL "Well, John," said he, tuning to the party and isuming a gaiety he did not reel, "Good bye, old How! I suppose you will b? a Benedict before I !tback." ' 'If you stay over three months, I certainly will," id Jchn. "But look here, fellcws, I want you i'O to wait on me; you must be back before that." "I am afraid, John, it will be impossible," re ' ^ ? "ti ?x tea jJunDar. "Ave gota-iuu?i mmg uumm >w, and I am exceedingly aniiois to. embark by ie last of September, at farthest But we will ink of you in the Catacombs, md among thereons of the Nile." "Thank you; any place else if you please. I ?not care to be associated with mummies and ocodiles. The spirit might be willing, but I fear e flesh would be very weak to coiyure up the lities of wedding festivities, amid such scenes. 11 excuse you till you get to & more congenial >ot," replied John. "But seriously, boys; what n I to do without you ? Newton has to tie the lot, and Wilcox will be married. What am I to >?" "Wilcox, married I" exclaimed Hnnter. "To horn?" "You have not heard of his attentions to Miss enton, the great heiress?" replied John. "No; is it really so ?" asked Hunter. "'I tell the tale as 'twas told tome,'" said )hn. "Rumor says they are to be married next month id proceed to Europe; you may meet them ere." "Heaven forefendl" cried Hunter. "Wilcox ill do, though he is vain and selfish, but she? mple, simmering, and inane?a child, mentally id morally; what can he see in her?" "Gold, gold, gold, gold, price of many a crime untold," id Newton, in a low voice. Then, as if repentgthe implied oensure, said, "She has a pretty lough face though." , "Yes," laughed Johb, "and so has Bessie and r Katie's waxen babies. But take care, boys, how - yon talk, for she is to be a cousin of mine. Do you not know that she js some four removed cousl in of Mary's?" "The mischief is done now, and we are in for \ it," said Hunter. "If I'm to be tried for treason, let it be high, and I do say 1 would rather marry ' a parrot or a doll, any time. But wilful, splenetic l and stubborn, Oh t what a Paradise their Eden i will be." How pale Janie grew, and how she trembled. "You have not told me good bye, Miss Janie," said Dunbar, taking her hand and placing it in his arm. Come down here among the roses, and give me a flower to compare with those of the East Let it be soft, but beautiful and gorgeous, or your sunny Bouth' will suffer." Janie could not answer, but he went on. "And what shall I bring you from the land of Pyramids and Sphinx's ? What elixir from soothsayer or astrologer, on what memento or talisman from Rabbi, Prophet, or Mufti? By the way, Miss Janie," said he, as they stopped at the end of the piazza, "I think John is mistaken about that wedding. Wilcox told me a day or two ago there was nothing of it" There was a pleading sorrow in Janie'a face, as she bravely looked up at him and said, "I think it is veiy likely it is so. He has spoken to me of 1 her, and is, I believe, attached to her; that is?" said she correcting herself, "I believe he intends ' addressing her." ' "Without the attachment," said Dunbar, low and mockingly. There was a hopeless look about J the drooping figure, that touched him. "Stilly" said he, "I cannot believe it He told . me he loved but one woman, and he never expect- < ed to love another."Janie blushed, and she laughed a low, rippling 1 laugh. ? i "You do not know Edward Wilcox, as I do, or 1 you would not credit such protestations," said she. 1 But he saw the flushed face, the sparkling eye, ' the new vigor of the whole frame, and knitting his < brow, and compressing his lip, he said, in low bit- 1 ter tones, "Curse the man that could wantonly trifle with 1 affection; that could win without truth; that could wgd without love." , 1 She looked startled, but they walked back, and 1 bidding each other good night and good bye, they * parted. * |TU BJ5 UUflrXlfllUJSV ?KAX WJCJ5tt..J [Back numbers of the Enquirer containing so 1 much of the foregoing story as has been published, c can be furnished^ if applied for early.] jj IpSttJtetiMUSi Jtrticles. ! From tlie Cleveland Plain Dealer. 1 NIGHT RIDE IN A BALLOON. !: An exchange informs us that an aeronaut, named j. Tliompson, who ascended recently from Toronto, j. descended safely near this city, the balloon having c been taken by a strong current across the lake. Much anxiety was felt in Toronto as to Thompson's ? fate before the telegram arrived announcing his safe landing. Mr; Thompson gives the following g account of his adventure: "The balloon ascended y at 4: 40, and from the velocity the balloon was travelling at, I soon perceived it was foolish to try to descend. It soon became evident to me that landing in Canada was out of the question, and that r all Arrangements must be made to drive across the jj lake. The first thing that struck me was to drop the grapnel to the full extent, 120 feet. This act- a ed as a guide to the distance the balloon might be rj kept above the surface of the water, it being now ^ dark, and by placing one hand on the rope, the efforts of the grapnel striking the water was distinctly felt With an open bag of ballast on my knee, every time the gTapnel struck the water a couple of handsfull of sand were thrown out, and to this s plan alone I owe my own preservation and success, t The ballast taken was about 350 pounds. For three b hours that plan was carried out, and then came a one of the most drenching and merciless rains I I have ever felt I could not see fifteen feet before ii me, and the noise of the rain on the balloon and p the water was such as to entirely unnerve me. My d hands became numb, and I was drenched to the n skin. I now began to perceive my position more t acutely, though I determined not to give up until c all the ballast and movables were gone. The rain s was making the balloon heavier every moment, s and the ballast was thrown out more freely till a- b bout ten o'clock, when the fatigue overcame me, e and I fell into a stupor for a few moments. By \ this time the balloon had descended to within six ' feet of the water, and instantly out went twenty- t eight pounds of ballast The effect of this was C that the balloon rose to an altitude of a mile, en- d tirely through the raiu clouds, and then the moon s shone brilliantly, and in this position it remained s about a quarter of an hour. The effect of the o moon shining on the cloud beneath, was such as a any artist might be proud of. The shadow of the 1 balloon was distinctly to be seen traveling over the li rough and uneven clouds, giving the idea of abal- s loon race. Everything now became calm. No 1 longer the hum of the lake or the rain. All was t still, but whether the storm still raged beneath was ' unknown. As the balloon descended, it was evi- v dent a change had come over the scene. The rain a had ceased and the appearance of everything was c of the darkest hue; whether it was an under stra- c turn of dark clouds could not be known. Sudden- r ly a glimmer of light was seen for a moment; then ( with anxious eyes cast down to perceive any object, 1 at last small squares, with darker margins, were a clearly visible. These proved to be the fields and g hedges, and they appeared to vanish as quickly as c objects passed when in an express train. A town g was at last seen and I heard the sound of musical f instruments. I called out to know where I was, but the reply was unintelligible. They, however, t saw it was a balloon. About two miles further on 1 the grapnel caught in a large oak tree, and held c fast. This afterwards proved to be a little village i near Cleveland. I then called out lustily; the i sounds of persons singing and playing music was $ heard. Those proved to be four young men who 1 had been to a ball. They were natives of Cleve- c land, and as they advanced nearer, my voice was ( heard. They at once set to work so pull the bal- j loon out of the woods and convey it to a field where it could be folded up. It was then three < o'clock in the morning." ( FINDERS AGAIN. J The business men of N. York City express sur- , prise that the Southern farmers neglect the cul- ] 1 OWX OA mimK fnr fllA ' cure U1 JJIUUOID, nuivu luu ou uuvu uuwvu .V. ? , manufacture of oil From $2 to $4 per bushel are paid there, and the demand will not he supplied. Remember that after gathering all your crop of i pinders, say 25 or 30 bushels per acre, at least one ] fourth of the yield will remain in the ground to feed i and fatten your hogs. This is clear gain. There < is also another advantage in pinder raising. The i vines may he saved and cured for feeding horses ] and cattle; and this forage is as good as clover.?- j We have tried it; and the yield per acre is enor- i mous,?not less than two tons on suitable land, j The best land for pinders is a fresh or good sandy < soil, such as will not produce cotton well; and if i it will make ten bushels of corn per acre, the same will make 25 bushels of pinders per acre. At the . minimum price, therefore, you will make fifty dolors per acre on poor land, over and above fatten- 1 ing your pork hogs and saving pinder forage for your horses and horned cattle. Is this not better than ten dollars per acre which is the best that could be done on such land, when cotton brings only 12 cents per pound ? Think, think. Marion Orescent. ADMIRAL SEMMES AND GEN. FORREST. The Memphis correspondent of the Cincinnati Commercial, Republican, gives the following pen portraits of Admiral Semmes and General Forrest, in a letter to that journal: "This leads me to speak of Admiral Semmes.? It was my fortune to know him welL "We differed about many political questions, but there was no one whose personal traics won more of the writer's esteem. He is generous, truthful, kindly and amiable as a woman, always smiling, even-temper ed, and perhaps a better colloquist than writer.? In social intercourse there is no one whose manner, bearing and excellent good' sense would gain more respect and more speedily conciliate an enemy and make a friend. His habits are faultless. He has none of the vices- of a sailor, save on aversion to boots. His nose and face have all the ruddy marks that distinguish an 'old salt.' He uses no stimulant His eyes are blue, clear andwinning in expression.' He always smiles when he greets you. His apparel is plain, and gait erect and graceful enough. He is slender and straight, weighing not more than one hundred and twentyfive pounds. His height is five feet nine or ten inches, and his age fifty-five. "Such is Raphael Semmes, who has been as grossly represented by Northern .newspapers and letter-writers as any participant in the late war.? Whether his conduct was defensible or not, it is certainly true that he never once questioned the legality and propriety of his course. He deemed the Alabama a lawful cruiser, invested with evexy right which a vessel acquires as part .of the 'territory' of a recognized belligerent - Of his deeds he bimself will write the story. He has all needful materials for an interesting book, which at some lay he will give to the world. The Admiral?he Deists upon his proper title?has returned to Mobile. It is thought, however, that he will make VIem* his his home. "* "Foi rest is another marked character, who is lot so much misrepresented or misunderstood.? He carries with him into business life all those exxaordinary physical, moral and intellectual qualifies which distinguished him as s soldier. He was iddicted to money-making before he became a sollier, and was eminently successful. He is now a sontractor on the Memphis and Little Rock Raiload; has taken a contract to pave some miles of j Memphis streets; is President of a successful inurance company, and, withal, has devoted niuch i ime to the preparation, for the press, of his me- < noire. The book will appear next month, pnb- j ished by Messrs. Blelook & Co. Forrest is wholy unlike Semmes. He is quite six feet and an i nch or two high. Before his health was impaired i >y wounds and hard marches, his weight was one \ inndred and eighty or ninety pounds. In physi- t al strength he was a match for a prize ring cham>ion. His hair was jet black, his skin dark, eyes >lue and mild enough until the devil within was roused. He now grows grey. His step is not so lastic as in 1861, and yet there is an unexpended igor of mind and body which assures him of a i irotractedlife. ~ I "The book which Blelock publishes will be a 1 >lain narrative of Forrest's deeds. I have read 1 nany pages of the manuscript and am led to be- < ieve that Northern soldiers who encountered For- < est, will say that it is modest and truthful, even 1 s it is well written and its facts carefully collated. < ihe book is certainly free from prejudice, which 1 listingtished the productions of Pollard, the Rich- < Qond book-maker." 1 * ] ANECDOTES OF GENERAL LEE. In all his official intercourse and private conver- , ation, Gen. Lee never breathed a vindictive seniment towards the enemy who so severely taxed , lis resources and ingenuity, and put against him f s many advantages in superior means and nnm- , ers. He had none of the Yankeephobia common ] a the Southern army; he spoke of the northern \ eople without malevolence, and in a style that ] leprecatcd their political delusions rather than de- f ounced their crimes, and he generally referred to t be enemy in quiet and indifferent words, quite in \ ontrast to the epithets and anthemas which were' ( howeredon "the Yankees." On one occasion a ( pectator describes him riding up to the Rock- ( iridge Artillery, which was fiercely engaging the j nemy, and greeting his son Robert, who as a priate soldier was bravely working one of the guns. | ITT II 1 js.ii? o: 11 J.T.-J 'HOW a ye UO, iuuier i was an luat xiuuci u uau ( o say as he continued his duty at his gun; and ] Jen. Lee replied quietly: "That's right, my son; j Irive these people back." At another time, in ( ight of the enemy on the Rapidan, Gen. Lee was . tanding conversing with two of his officers, one f whom was known to be not only a hard fighter ? nd a hard swearer, but a cordial hater of the j Tankees. After a silence of some moments, the ( ltter officer, looking at the Yankees with a dark j cowl on his face, exclaimed most emphatically, } T wish they were all dead." General Lee, with ? he grace and manner peculiar to himself, replied, j 'How can you say so, General ? Now I wish they ] rere all at home, attending to thqir own business, , ,nd leave us to do the same." He then moved , iff, when the first speaker waiting until he was ' >ut of ear-shot, turned to his companion, and in a nost earnest tone said, "I would not say so before Jeneral Lee; but I wish they were all dead and in 1 lell I" When this ' 'amendment'' to the wish was 1 fterwards repeated to General Lee, in spite of his / ;oodness and customary reproof of profanity, he < ould not refrain from laughing heartily at the i peech which was so characteristic of one of his i avorite officers. His scanty meals were the occasion of some < houghtless jokes and many comic anecdotes. In I lis tent meat was eaten but twice a week. His or- i linary dinnerconsisted of ahead of cabbage boiled < nsalt water, and a pone of com bread. The story 1 s jocosely told that on one occasion a number of ] gentlemen having appointed to dine with him, he i lad ordered his servant to provido a repast of < abbage and middling. A very small bit of mid- i liing garnished the dish?so small that the polite < quests all declined, and it remained oi> the dish vhen they rose from the table. Next day the jeneral (remembering the untouched meat) ordered his servant to bring "that middling." The nan hesitated, scratching his head, and finally i ?id: "De fact is, Mass'r Robert, that ar middlin' ivas horrid middlin', and I done giv it back to the man whar I got it'from.?From Edward A. Polr ]xxrds 11 Lee and his Lieutenants." The Bankrupt Law.?All who oontemplate wailing themselves of the benefits of the bankrupt law must do so previous to March 2, 1868, as the fifty per cent clause takes place on that jay. All claims against a bankrupt who applies after next March will, as a matter of course, be proven. Section 33 of the law, in relation to the fifty per cent is as follows: "And in all proceedings in bankruptcy, commenced after one year from the time this Act shall go into operation, no discharge shall be granted to a debtor whose assets do not pay fifty per cent of the claims against his estate, unless the assent, in 'writing, of a majority in number and value of his creditors, who have proved their claims, is filed in the ease, at or before the time of application for discharge." THE DECLINE Df COTTON. ' ~T The great fall in cotton seriously affects bturinea prospects in the South. The planters will not make theii; expenses, and those who have rented land will lose money. A luge arnovnt of Northern capital invested in cotton planting will be lost Cotton of the new crop now ooming into mvket b selling in the principal cotton depots of the Sooth at fourteen or fifteen cents, tax included. The buyer generally pays the tax, so the pburter obtains about twelve and a half cents, m Ooastfiy, a pound. All the expenses attending the cotton culture are double what they were before the war. The twelve and a half cents a pound which the cotton grower receives, will be worth to him but six and a quarter cents, oompared with the specie price of 1860. It is impossible that cotton can be jnadq, another season at thia price. " ' Bnt the price is still farther to decline, is we , _ 'JEl hew from the state of the UcWon trade abread. East India and Egyptian Cotton will supply the Liverpool market at less rates even than the mes ent East India Cotton is now quoted at Liverpool at seven pence, and it can be afforded with fair profit at four pence?half penny. This wiHofoaa the Liverpool market agairmfc United States. Obttpt for the future. Cotton will cease to be an j}?l|A* can staple. With what extraordinary wisdom then did Mr. Morrill, in his defence of the cotton' tax, ift^ thai * the cotton culture was the most productive of"-U products in this country, and the mArt able of ail to bear taxation. Because cotton was at 30 oenls at one time, he supposed, perhaps, that it' would never decline, even in competition with thfr product of India. Any well informed cotton tojdfr could have told him better. Besides, he made no allowance, it seems, for the demoralisatibiHL^ destruction of black labor in the South. It, is reported that at Memphis, a great cotton mart, the decline , of cotton causes much embarrassment, and that many persons there attribute it to combinations in Liverpool and New York, against the Southern States. But it so happens that the Liverpool and New York cotton trade severely suffers by the dadfnc, and that marry of the dealers in the'staple are, by it, brought to the verge of bankruptcy. Large amounts have been lost in New York, as well as in. Liverpool, in vain efforts to sustain the price The dry goods market in New Yorky and elsewhere, feels the cotton decline, lite domestic and" imported goods are selling below cost Some cottons bring less prices than they did before the war, and still the tendency is downward. Cotton factors in the South advise planters nqt bo hold back their crops in the hope of a rise, of a sent or two a pound, as there is more likelihood of further decline than of advance. "J< s It ought to be the very first business of Congress at the ensuing session, to repeal the cotton tax,and provide for refunding what has been collected apon the crop of this season.? Wcuhxngton Na-.. h/v?/t7 ONE-ARMED INGENUITY. A correspondent writing to . the Indianapolis TotonaltayB: ;il ' At Pennsylvaniaburg, Bipley county, Indiana, I * net a most remarkable caae of one-armed ingenui- ' . y. rwoerc juewia, ayoung-man witaoutnome or kindred, who had to earn his bread by hard daily labor, early in the war, and at the minimum age, entered the service as a private in General Spoon;r's regiment, the Eighty-third Indiana. At the lattle of Chickasaw Bluf? Eobert lost his aim at he shoulder. After much suffering he returned ' t ? his former home. The loss of an arm only seemed to impress him with the idea that greater energy svould be required, if he would make an honorable iving. He began to study at night and every leisure moment Soon he qualified himself fox tewahMC. About this time he dfd what would usually be, un ier similar circumstances, a very foolish thing?he ?ot married. But his wife accepted the situation,' rod was willing to laugh at poverty and help her trosband to earn their bread. He taught school in he winter, and in the spring began to build a house. [ was through his house a day or two ago. It has rix rooms, is of the Gothic style of architecture, rod is neat and substantial throughout Rpom bundation to roof, all the work was done by this me-armed man, except that his wife and her moth? asasted in raising it Not being able to jobsore joists to suit him, he sawed them out of a wide ;wo-inch plank. ^ He laid the foundation, built the chimneys, made he doors and sash, in short, no sound of hammer )r any tool was heard about the building of that louse, except those that were wielded by his arm. Let any one try to start a ten penny nail with only * >ne hand, and he will doubt this story; hut strange is it may appear, it is in every respect true. It would pay one for a trip to Bipley county, to the incenious devices of Robert Lewis to make ;he difficult work of a two-armed man easy of aojomplishment by a one-armed soldier. At the ime I was there he was completing a baby wagon, vhioh would oompare with the neatest of those wld in the market Besides earning a living and juilding a house, Mr. Lewis is reading law. 9a has a remarkable head, and, unless I am much mistaken, he will yet beoome eminent He is not ?et twenty-one years of age. STONEWALL JACKSON. A Characteristic Incident.?In the R&gicnu Herald for this week we find the following interesting incident in the life of Jackson, which jives us an insight into some of the thoughts that xxupied his mind the day after the great battle in vhich he won his immortal soubriquet of "Stonerail:" A few days after the first battle of Manassas an jager, anxious crowd was assembled at the Poet Office in Lexington, Virginia, on thearrival of the mail The greatest excitement prevailed, and tidings "from the front" were eagerly sought after. Ihe venerable Br. White (pastor of the Presbyterian church) took a letter from the post office, and, recognizing it as in the handwriting of Brigadier General (afterwards "Stonewall") Jackson, he said to the crowd, "Here is a letter from General Jackson?now we will have full and authentio par-, ticulare of the battle." The crowd eagerly asked him to read aloud, and pressed round to hear the expected stirring news from the field of conflict. He broke the seal, and, to the disappointment of all, found only these few lines: Manassas Junction, July 22, 186k "My Dear Pastor.'?I remember that my subscription to Domestic Missions is about due. Please find enclosed $30. Yours very truly, T. J. Jackson." No word about the great battle in which he had played so conspicuous a part?no time or inclination to tell of those heroic deeds which rendered famous, forpver, "Stonewall Jackson and the Stonewall Brigade"?but he could afford the time to send to his pastor money which he had prom* J 1a lltA tuna nr?? aP 1\a T ibcu iu uic lAwurjr vu. uw uunL The example of this great and good n*?n teaches a lesson which many would do well to heed. ? > I0L The London papers are complaining of the high price of food in that city. Cam has risen twenty per cent in a month, and the prospect foe winter appears decidedly bad. What t^e poor will do> with the rising prioee of the neoeennea of life, is a sufy'ect they heaitaU to ooctanplate.