Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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! * i*-JMMCain 1S*?? ? , ? ^ ^ ^ I ._?_1 . ' i__i : lewis m. grist, Proprietor.J ||,n |nbf|plrtitl Jfwtilg lUtoptjtr: Jfox t|e Ijramofira of % JJiIifiral, Sacral, ^.gricnltnral anb Commercial fnferais erf % Sonl|. '. ^ ' TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. '= VOL. 17. ? *?"' -* YOEKVILLB, S. O.,; THURSDAY, 1STOVEMBEE 2, 1871. N0..44.Ji'| '!t ^ ' ' '1 *- ' ??MM???_????^ - - - * ^ "^r ' -1- ?ma iViaaa kllKlM TIlAV L JU ?tiginal fme ^toeg. f Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. TEIE ohkhown. f t* . AiALBOtfA SEPTUAGENARIAN. ..yt:,r . "Tsuth is atiranger than fiction," is & trite sentence no one gainsays, for the recollections of almost every to/dividual recall instaades verifying it. The story I propose to relate is an exemplification of its declaration, and thoogfr the leading incidents are familiar to ft'j few ivhoee memory ?dill reach as far back into-] thediwvistaof the past as mine, to the young,*! ?1?? ?111 i?? ~ ?i r .1 v ilf j generally, ? wm uc uew, ouu uviu me ibdiii* j larity ?f the several localities, as well as the romantic character of its events, I hope the1 old man's ow'er true tale may prove interest-? ing. My-stories are all of the long ago. The^oung naturally peer forward?the old look * , CHAPTER Iv . . maihsjong veSraiMlfdr which faced the ocean, and watched a ship sailing into the harbor. The beauty of the sea? each wave painted by the rays of the setting sun with gold and purple crest?the ship in all her majesty of motion, walking the waters as if inspired by the bounding hearts crowding her deck, the unwonted quiet of the hour, each were to her as if they were not?though forth on all shegazed. Her face was one of marked character. The forty years which had rolled over her head had left not one grey hair in their train, and but few deepened lines on her face to tell of their passage. Still, her appearance was not uncommonly youthful for her years ; a good state, of preservation rather marking her general aspect, indicating her's had been a life shielded from carking care, though her close black dress told she had not been exempt from nature's law, "That man was made to mourn." As she stood, tears unbidden coming to her eyes and trickling unheeded down her cheeks, a young girl, clad, too, in deep mourning, came oat on the verandah and gained her side unnoticed. For a moment the younger lady watched the elder one ; then putting her arm around her waist and leaning her head on the elder's shoulder, the girl said, r .1 * .1 199 "Mower, aear moiner: Then irrepressible sobs choked her utterance. For a short time, the mother, too, could not speak ; but soon calmning her emotion, she essayed to soothe her daughter. "Dinna greet sae lassie, sair wad it grieve your father to find his hinnie thus." . It was only when strongly moved, Mrs. f Campbell used her mother tongue, and her child seemed more overcome by the touching | vernacular. , "Oh! mother, mother," she sobbed, "this is the ship which w^uld have brought them! I so hung on the thought of my brothers | coming, and longed for their companionship." Solemnly the mother answered, "He that ruleth the winds and the waves doeth all things well! Shall we question His going forth or coming in ? Let us, rather like Aa^ rml, mmi UJ1 pftliu, 11 , 1 )" * Then gently and resolutely, she withdrew her form from the support of the girl, and I led her to an inner apartment. Mrs. Campbell was a Scotch woman. At the age of eighteen she first married in Edinburg, to Henry McArthur. He was a Scotchman, but for many years had been a planter in the West Indies. The enervating climate had undermined his health, and giving up the management of his estates to able agents, he returned to his native land to remain permanently. Middle age wps upon him, and he was still unmarried ; but soon after his arrival in Scotland, he met Margaret Alexander. She was of a beautiful countenance and goodunderstanding. He thought life's journey would be brightened by such a help-meet, and wooed and won the fair woman. In six years, three children were born to Henry and Margaret McArthur?Henry, Alexander and Henrietta. Before the infant daughter could lisp her father's name, he was taken by death from his family. TTMa A moo olotron ttoq re rvl/1 Iltlinctui 1TKJX11 liUUX U MO VIVIVU JVMIO V4U when Jamie Camfeell induced her mother to change her widowed state. He, too, was Scotch?a bachelor of forty, and for fifteen years a resident of Charleston, South Carolina, and one of her most successful importing merchants. I He, with a younger brother?Robert Cambell?had gone over to South Carolina together, and together begun business in her "Queen city;" but it was not long till the latter became acquainted with a young lady from the interior, whose charms, sentimental and substantial, were very desirable. He was fortunate enough to succeed in pleasing her fancy, and,marrying her, retired fiom mercantile life to reside on the plantation in Williamsburg District he had acquired by his wife. The elder brother worked on, associa- j ting with him, in his brother's stead, a canny : countryman?Mr. Gower; but he was very { , lonely "in the whole city full," after his broth-! er went from him. However, fortune was j amassed wealth. Then he weut back home? I as his affectionate heart still called Scotia?to i find him a consort. To the generous nature and warm heart of Jamie Cambell,the three children of Mrs. McArthur were additional charms to her beauty bAnaA on J *-?. V? nn UA Aviin/l V\ infnnfmn ? iiuu ouuou) auu nucu ug iuuuu aav,a tubvuwvu after she consented to marry him?was to leave her two sons in Scotland till the completion of their education, he inveighed strenuously against the plan, feeling real disappointment in being deprived of a father's care over the lads. However, he was forced to recognize the soundness of their mother's judgment, in f placing them where opportunities were so superior to those to be found in the United States, and solaced himself by devoting himself to Henrietta. He quickly won her affection, and from the day he called her mother his wife, he loved the little daughter with truly a father's heart. Friends and instructors wrote frequent reports to Mrs. Cainbell?after she crossed the o;ean?of her sons, and all combined in prorouncing them youths of great promise. When the young McArthurs graduated, their first thought was to hasten to the tenderly loved mother and sister, so long separated from them. The mother curbed this natural impulse, and dwjred that their attention should first be given to their West India prop? . erty ; and before coming to Charleston they 1 should go to Jamaica, see their agents, examine accounts, condition of the estates, and assume possession. Being guided by their ! mother's advice, Henry and Alexpndej;. Mc| Arthur came on to the West Indies, and while, necessarily det^iped there, both fell victims of the yellp^ fe^er^ j^js ship, now sailing into port, weafthe on^ in vhich they had proposed to come; $nd oply the mail-ship before^had brought to their fhmily the news of thei^ do*. m?e. Ihe sight of the vessel opened ?ew | the Jtafc woityds, still bleeding for their |o*s, I ifor years, had .Wk^Torh | ^Vml?^.ciruel Tiine> fjtei . L a ^rskCam|bell4 with an inherent ste.rno^ imbij^^i^^jWQ^.er's mUhlbpa^a rjtcejjot stifled the weakness ni ner I*e8ence5^^ i aeyen THBMBfffiflffflSttl3556ra8|r checking tlm tjje homely doctrioe'^f "jHtfineesb^fQife pleasqre." N^' in no use! ess regret, f^It no reproach of conscience lor her course, j^d.would again have enacted ?i?a83sBa?3&hh| jMsgs nafhre Was cast softer rubul^. Vroutn and love had developed for her a tender, facile temper. Her grief for her brothers' loss was very intense; so violent in its expression itseemed beyond her power to control it. The exhibition of her distress caused her stepfather much pain. For his sake, her mother exhorted her, continually, to overcome herself and be more calm. Even this strong incentive failed to enable her to quell the demonstrations of her sorrow. Two hours after the arrival of the vessel noticed at the first of this chapter, the wife and daughter awaited Mr. Cambell's coming. The room in which the ladies sat gave evidence that Mrs. Cambell had not left on the other side of the sea, her old world love of elegance. The walls of the room were hung with curious, ancient tapestry, representing scenes from the Old Testament. The stern nf anhitWa niioh ns Mrvsea slavincr the Egyptian; the overthrow of Pharaoh and his Host in the Red Sea; the slaying of Jezebel's Prophets, &c., made it easy to imagine the work was woven by the fingers of some grand dame nurtured in the days of a Claverhouse. The chairs were large, cushioned with blue damask, wrought in with threads of gold; the wood-work, white and highly gilded in patterns of vine and grape; the tables were of the same material, claw-footed and topped with black marble, the strong contrast not being unpleasant in effect. The mantel was also black marble. On it were burning four wax candles, set in massive silver candlesticks. On one side of the room was a harpsichord, with a blue damask cover to match the cushioning of the chairs. This, now, seemed to be the subject of discussion. "Don't ask me, mother! How can I play? Every tune has been practioed for my brothers?the whole burden of my thought, as I played, being how the air would please them." "Henrietta, to give up, to this extent, to our sorrow, is worse than useless?it is positively wrong. The dead are not blessed by it?the living darkened. You must remem> hoar1' i ir """'if ~ dearer to you than your brothers were. The seutinrcttrtoward him is real?for them ideal. He, too, dwelt most fondly on their coming, planning much happiness for them and us. Instead'of striving to fill the place of more children to him, and cheering the heart which leaus on you to soothe its declining years, you augment his trouble by your gloominess. It is not right, and I cannot encourage you in such a course, by undue sympathy or caresses." . "A shadow seems, mother, to rest on me, from which I cannot escape?as if this sorrow is but the harbinger of more." "It is your first affliction, my child ; and you have not struggled against its pressure, but unresistingly been borne down by its weight. Make an effort to resume your usual Q daily duties, find again interest in thera, and think of others. Afflictions were not meant to make us selfish. We must learn to sorrow with moderation." The thought of her father was a lever to Henrietta. She exerted herself to overcome the grief she had indulged. Her first step was to play the harpsichord, and she went forward to try if her strength would be sufficient to play for him, and not betray her surcharged heart by some uncontrollable burst of grief. She opened the harpsichord, and her heart seemed comforted by the first chords her fingers woke, as if some friend's voice spoke to her through the simple tones. She played some little airs, then sang sweetly the ballad of "Allan Water," not perceiving her father's entrance, on tip-toe, till she concluded the song. The gratified look with which he met her first glance, repaid her for her effort, even had not the pleasure she herself had found in it, done so. "Any letters, father ?" she asked, forgetting, for a moment, none of especial interest to her were now to come. "SeveraJ for myself relating to the affairs of the firm, and two for your mother?business letters I judged from their superscription. Did not your uncle Robin bring them ?" ~ "Uncle Robert t~~ Is he in town?""' "Yes; I thought to have found him already here. I had an invoice to look over and would not detain him, for what was of interest to me, was this time dull to him. Some meeting with acquaintances has caused his tarrying. We will wait tea on liira. He will v\HAOAr?4ltr XTaht ipkot nan VAti 01 nrr ma Ut 111 COCIiUJ. X1VU, IT nut VUll JUU gillg U4V to pass the time till he comes ?" She knew what song he best loved, but knew, out of tenderness toward her, he would not ask it. It was one of the batch of new songs he had sent to Scotland for. Her brothers had chosen them; but she was not longer to allow his thought for her to be greater than hers for him. With great purity of style and expression, , she sang "Auld Lang Syne." He spoke no word at its close; but laid his hand on her blonde head, as if in blessing. Both felt too ! much to speak. A ring at the door was a relief to the three mute occupants of the parj lor, for in a deep reverie Mrs. Cambell sat, ! looking sadly on two portraits which hung opposite, much alike in all attributes, and reminding her ever, by the semblance of their counterfeit presentments of the father of her sons, the husband of her youth. The por! traits had been painted only a year before, by a fine Edinburg artist, and were, to her, worth | their weight in gold. A moment after the ring, a servant ushered i in Mr. Robert Cambell. He was greeted cordially by his sister-in-law and her daughter, and affectionate enquiries made about his wife, whom Henrietta spoke of as "dear aunt m . ~~JU,r" Sua" AfteJr he had taken .a seat, his brothei the mail, and gave to his wi? from among the matter, two letters. One b^arthf post-mark of Jamaica?the other that pfEdinburg.) A glance told her they were, .business comraunipations, and she laid thea* aside till after Jea, paw ready to be served, aa it had , heepdpJayqdforMr. Robert CambeU's coming, A 80y?r tpa tray, with a rare ol$ dkna iep ! vioeon,it, was placed before the mistress oi thepiansicm op,a small tea-table, be^re which she a?U,; A brass tea-kettle, burnished like gpld, steamed with the boiling water ra^jjjr.te | d^a^the tea, which the lady took out of a ailve* caddy,put in a pot of the same metal, and 1 ton" jmiwimmi aftr.h cud with a statelv grace TPS ?r-ur~" 1 -rr. - . . which marked her smallest action, before any one had finished their first cup, there in a ting at. the door. The servant who. answered thp bell brought in the name of "Hr. Taylor, of Georgetown." -ti 'xr; 'Ask him, " A moment after, Mr. Taylor ebtofe$'j"tt was the first meeting with their friend since their recent heavy affliction, and much feeling was awakened, the younger Mr. Cambell being alone unmoved. Mrs. Cambell first relieved the silence, which succeeded the sad greeting, by asking the new comer to have a cup of tea. "No, I thank you, madam. I thought I knew your hours well enough, not to have intruded." "Your presence is never an intrusion," said the master of the house. "We would have been done tea, but our Scotch punctuality i n .L?? i) waited on rvomn. The tea things removed, the servant placed two of the candle-sticks, with their wax lights, on the marble centre-table. "Wilfye bide here, Robin, to read, or tak a pipe wi it in the stoody." "The latter, I believe; but ye need not come, Jamie." "No, no lad, I dinna see ye sae often, but I long to see mair. I ken na ither, how to gang off from ye Taylor!" "Like his wife, but more frequently with him than her, Mr. Campbell used his brogue. He always called his younger brother Robin, though now a stalwart man?a great contrast to the dapper little merchant's small stature. The pet diminutive came always to his lips, and toward "Robin" he felt a woman's tenderness. Robert Cambell had a tall, fine person, good features, fair complexion and sandy locks, and looked about ten years younger than in reality he was. His manners were finished, and his conversational powers insinuating. He sang a fine song, danced a minuet or hornpipe with equal skill, kept bloodhorses, hounds and boats, and enjoyed the fair fortune he got by bis wife thoroughly. She, his wife, was one of the best of women ; quiet, pretty, excellent sense and good principles, with but one weakness?an overweening admiration of her husband. His wife and his brother had been sufficient, by their devotion and pride to sad in him, to have fostered a aSoweS^nrtis 'g^c^t^demeanorand their whole thought being life pleasuiTe, one could not tell whether he was selfish or not, for they never allowed him to be unselfish. The brothers did not appear to have gone down to read, for the packages of foreign noiuo wppp laid aside nnonened. Thev lit their pipes and sat down in the luxurious arm chairs abounding in the cosy apartment. "Henrietta is a perfect beauty," said the younger brother. "It's a shame, Jamie, to marry her to so cadaverous a specimen as this Taylor." "Who. talks of Henrietta marrying him. Not that I know a better youth, but I would be loth to see my singing bird go into any other cage than mine." "She is no longer a child, Jamie, and will soon have suitors enough in the city. Her wealth?now the boys are dead?would attract plenty of them ; but her face and form, are enough for any man of taste had she not a penny." "Her sweet temper and loving heart are beyond her personal attractions. Her mother says her only fault is her timidity. To me it is an additional charm. Margaret fears she is unfitted, by her gentleness, for fighting life's battles; but while her old father's head is above the ground, he will see no hair of her's is hurt" Their pipes were smoked out, and Mr. Robert Cambell proposed they should return to the drawing-room. He had scarcely entered it, until he asked of Henrietta a song. She would have refused, had it been any one else, but it was habitual with his elder brother and wife never to gainsay request of his, and Henrietta had fallen into their ways. Unhesitatingly, therefore, she arose and went to the piano. After two or three pieces there was a pause, and Mr. Taylor said good night and left. He was a pale, slight mau, his face not wanting in expression if it was in color; but possessing no beauty, excepting deep blue eyes beaming with purity and tenderness, which might have looked forth from those of a woman. Henrietta's face had brightened during the evening, and her pallid cheeks now glowed with some of their natural color. Her father? we cannot write him step-father, for no own parent could even have surpassed him in devotion?had it not been for the late remark of L:- i ii 1,1 i : on;,i I11S uruilici, nuuiu nave niuukcnuj o??U) "Taylor's visit had done the lassie good," but he saw there was truth in "Robins" suspicions as to Taylor's object in coming to their house, and felt a jealous pang to see another seeking to win away his "bairn." After Taylor's departure, Mrs. Cambell opened her letters. The contents brought a troubled look to her face. After a second perusal of each, she handed both to her hus' baud. His expression seemed a reflection oi hers. When he finished reading them, sh6 asked: "Do you see any alternative to keep nie from having to go?" "Not unless I could go myself; and Gower's absence makes my leaving Charleston, | now, an impossibility." "Yes, I know that." "What is it?" enquired Mr. Robert Cambell. "These letters are from ray business men, and both relate to the estates of Alexander and Henry. They say the affairs have been ! so long in the hands of agents, it is now im! peratively necessary one of the legatees I should be present at the settlement. I will have to go to Jamaica, and, probably, to Edin I burg." ' " 77 t j TT r.*y t*J A few remarks passed on, either side. The i urgency of the case was urideniable, and the. \ conclusion of the whole was, that th? nest vessel sailing for the West Indies most, take, i on board of her Mrs. Cambell. 1. "You will not leave Henrietta .here during. 1. the summer season?" askechjfr. Robert Cam,! bell. ^ *it j "Of course, she will remain with mej" re: plied the elder Mr. Cambell. V I "You had better send her up to my house j r to stay with Sue. I'm so much from home, I , would be glad to ha^e her there, as company I fl fftr Sue in my absence. A summer in, the j pj country will dQ her good, and she will"fih'd it. , dull here with Jamie, though such an heiress will have plenty Of1 heaiil'to drive away l&ue ' devils." The allusion to the fortune was a harsh truth to the dini lira Understanding of the elders-^-a wound t'd tljeli&rt of the' young girl. Cambfell added;1 after ^ 1 ' '"I was detained tbfe evening by meotift<fffld 1 Dr. Ramsey, and, in the course of our cdVi j veraation/he prophesied t h iTml mrhet*' ^oulo be a yellow fever season." The ladies both started. To them, Dr. Ramsey's prophecies were very nearly the same as a flat, so highly did they esteem his judgment. The brow, too, of the elder gentleman darkened. The skilfully introduced leaven was beginning to work, conversation languished, the ladies arose and bade goodnight, the guest refused his brother's offer of a pipe or night cap, and also retired, leaving the good merchant to an hour's serious reflection ere he rang for the servants to close the house and extinguish the lamps, before himself seeking his bed. Next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Kouert Cambell was not surprised, though gratified to learn, a night's reflection had caused the adoption of his plan for Henrietta, by her parents ; and his sister-in-law announced, as soon as she herself sailed, Henrietta and her father would go up to Williamsburg?the former to remain there until her mother should return to Carolina. CHAPTER II. Sunshine and showers had marked the April day, but Phoebus had at last overcome; and it was a bright beautiful sunset on which Henrietta McArthur stood gazing. She was out on a narrow porch which formed the entrance of the house, and looked wearily on the sinking sun. 'i A sad change seemed to have fallen on the girl. She was pale, almost haggard. Dark circles were marked around her eyes, and in them there was a scared, restless, helpless look, quite pitiful. The sound of approaching horses, woke her from her reverie. She turned, and coming up the avenue, nearly at the gate, she descried Mr. Taylor, of Georgetown. For one moment, a look of joy lighted her face?then faded away. A sadder helplessness, it seemed, by contrast, perhaps, than before' 'settled there. , He dismounted hastily as he caught sight tqft}is servant?who was codingaUttp bemna> on a sturdy nag, carrying his master's port-* manteau behind him ; but dropping them on his horse's neck, he went swiftly through the gate-way, and ran up the steps saying, almost before he shook hands, "Are you surprised to see me, Miss Henrietta? I came to Charleston, not having an idea of your absence; and your father told ' me you were domiciled here until your moth- ' er's return. He kindly gave me leave to come on and see you, and to insure me a wel ? ? - J" kaowan VAI1I* mnfllAv'fl CUlUt;, II1UUC IUC t/LIO UCOICI Ul jum luvwv. last letter, received by last mail." She took the missive nervously and asked eagerly, ^ '' "When is father coming?" Then anxiously, "how long will you stay ?" In his pleasure at meeting her, the young man, at the moment, did not seem to note the strangeness of her manner, or her altered appearance, and answered her pleasantly. "Mr. Cambell told me to tell you, Mr. . Gower is away from home courting so busily, the affairs of the firm are all on his shoulders, and it will be impossible for him to come up to see you before the Fall; but said you must be a good girl, mind your uucle and aunt, and not get home-sick. I can only stay till day after to-morrow, for when I left home, I never dreamed of coming here, and if I do not get home the day appointed, mother will immigine all manner of horrible accidents have befallen me." Henrietta McArthur, as he ceased speaking, biret into a nervous fit of tears. Just then, Mr. Robert Cam bell's voice was heard in the yard, and they saw him coming toward the dsor. She hastily retreated, leaving Mr. Taylor in a state of distressed wonder. It vas tea-time when he again met her. Now lie closely marked the sorrowful change which lad come over the girl. With his suspicions aroused, he narrowly watched Mrs. Robert Cambell. She, too, looked sad and anxious, but was courteous and kind as was her wont,, and in her manner toward Henrietta he seen^j j etl to discern a greater tenderness khan be had ever noted before. Mr. Cambell was the same pleasant, gay gentleman, and seemed to enjoy the visit of Mr. Taylor exceedingly, paying but little attention, beyond the courtesies of the table, to either his wife or Miss ' McArthur. The latter retired early, and Taylor found no opportunity for any private conversation with her, and the few remarks he addressed to her were answered in monosyllables. ; The next day he tried in vain to see her by herself, determined to ask her why she was so vnhappy. How unspeakably he longed to t tell her of his love, and strive with assurances [ of his affection to win a return and her con. fidence; but love was a tabooed subject be" tween them. Mr. Cambell?her step-father?had questioned Taylor plainly, received an honest confession, and required a promise from the young man that no declaration should pass his lips to Henrietta, until her mother's return. Then, the old gentleman gave his word, no obstacle should be thrown in the way of his success. Mr. Taylor felt it a reasonable request, and though hard to accede to, he did not demur, but gave the old man the promise. , Mr. Robert Cambell was devoted to his seif-invited guest, never leaving him to himi self, or even to the ladies, for a moment's en tertainment, and seemed entirely bent on i making him enjoy himself. He insisted on [ showing him his place, horses, and hounds ; . made up a fox-chase for his benefit, and expressed himself as exceedingly disappointed to find out he intended leaving the next day, and could not remain to participate in the iicmt After Taylor retired, the second night of his stay, Henrietta McArthur's clouded face "haunted him, driving all sleep from his eyelids. He reflected long on all causes, probable and improbable, for her appearance. At last he arrived at the conclusion to remain another day rather than leave her in such evident trouble, without learning the source of it; an/1 La iL ?.._L * ka lm?n?in? Lo lTliorVlf Kl> I ItUU UC tUUUgUV) UJ UUgUlUl^) Iiv ?/v able to do so. Day had nearly dawned before he slept, and with the first grey streaks in the | East, he was wakened by the sound of hunt* *j?gJtorns, yelping hounds, aud the clamorous tones of excited voices ringing in his ears. He was dozing again, in spite of the sounds belotf, when a knock at the door aroused him. Without awaiting an invitation to epter, Mr. fiQpmbell came in, saying heartily, . yW^vreke^'feytor, you had belter oome with. % * >4 returned the youu&BXtu firmlj^S .,In {truth, in his present state of mind, he felt do inclination for any sport "Then, you had better get up and take breakfast withus. If you are bent on going, get an early start. You can be off before sun-rise." "No, I am quite mis-rested, and, if I can, I will take another^, nap before rising." Hk host bade him a courteous good-bye,1 extending an invitation for a repetition of the visit/and left him to renew his slumbers; but sleep was again coy and would not be wooed back; So after tossing some minutes, Taylor arose from the bed and went to his window. As he looked out on the porch below, Mr. GAmbell issued from the house, with a cup in* his hapd, and calling a maid to him, gave it to her, to take up to Miss Henrietta with a message from Mrs. Cambell, that "she must drink it and go back to sleep again, as it was not nearly time to get up." Taylor saw the vessel contained a liquid, hut of course could form no idea of what properties. He went back to his bed. The fresh air he had breathed seemed to have soothed his excited feelings, and he fell into a sweet sleep, from which he was at last roused by a servant telling him it was nearly breakfast time. Vague suspicions still floated through his mind.: i When he went down, he found Mrs. Cambell on the porch, and to her he broached the subject of Miss McArthur's paying a visit to Georgetown to his mother. The lady seemed pleased with the idea, and said she was sure Henrietta would beiglad to go?she hoped, too, -it would be of bensflt to her, as she seemed to need a change. Breakfast was announced. The servant reported Miss Henrietta not ready, so the lady and gentleman sat down to the meal without waiting for hen! Thoy were scacpely helped when she eptered, Jooking heavy and half tfwake. T^e' morning greetings exchanged, she apoldgized for her tardiness and said? llUBplft Wlien I Vent of^ into a ' dead sleep, and Annette could hardly get me up for breakfast. If Mr. Taylor jhad not been intending to leave this morning, I know I would not have roused myself." "You are dreaming, child! I sent you UOthing." "What! Do you forget, Aunt Sue, early this morning before the hunters left? I wondered how you knew I needed it." Mrs. Cambell said nothing more, but turned the conversation on some other topic. Her face, though, grew paler and very sad. j Henrietta, on the contrary, though stupefied by her morning potion, was more herself than her lover had seen her, and was evidently thankful to think of a visit to Georgetown. As soon as breakfast was over, she excused * -* ? -i 1 u nerseir Dy saying sne was so Bieepy sue cuuiu not keep her eyes open, and really must go *nd lie dewn. Taylor ordered his horses, for he was satisfied to leave with the understanding she would soon come to his mother's. He trusted then to remove, even if he could not learn from her the cause of her depression. A week later, Mrs. Taylor herself went up for Miss McArthur. Taylor felt himself in honor bound to keep as much as he could (with decorum,) from her presence; but in his unselfish devotion the knowledge of her being well and safe was paramount to all else, and he did not allow himself to pine at the self-imposed restriction, but devoted himself, with uncommon assiduity, to his business, carrying her brightening face, in remembrance, to lighten onerous duties. Henrietta improved daily. She waited on old Mrs. Taylor with loving alacrity, learned to jelly and make piecrust, sang as she sewed, and seemed quite the happy child again. Her spirits rose as if a heavy pressure was removed from off them, and Taylor would not cloud her brow for a moment, by recalling the forgotten burden, to ask what it was. Momentarily, sometimes, it seemed to hang ^Ver herj but the shadow on her face soon the sunshine in her heart, which Mrs. Tay tor's loving caresses had created tlere. * - ' Two weeks of Miss McArthur's stay had expired, when one morning, about nine o'clock, Mr. Robert Cambell's carriage drove up. In it was Mrs. Cambell's maid who brought the following note: "My Dear Henrietta:?I never dreamed how I would miss you, and hope you and your friends will not think me selfish in shortening your stay ; but come home now, and later, I will take you ba^k myself. Your uncle is off on business, which will at least keep him ab sent two months, if not longer ; therefore, 1 send for you to come home and keep me company, especially as I am not at all well. I send Millie for company to return with you, although I know Caesar is all sufficient for safety. I thought, as you might be out late getting home, I would send Millie, too. My kindest regards to Mrs. Taylor and her estimable sou. Tell them I'll bring you back myself when Mr. Cambell returns. Your affectionate aunt, Susan Cambell. In an hour after the arrival of the carriage, Henrietta was gone. It was forty miles to Mr. Cambell's, and a late start; but recent rains had wetted the sand, and the level roads of lower Carolina are (after a good season) equal to those that are McAdamized. She, therefore, hoped to reach her journey's end, a little after dark. Mrs. Taylor did not feel satisfied to see her go with no other escort except the servauts, but her son was away, and would not return till nightfall. Henrietta tried to soothe the kind lady's fears by telling her the entire confidence her aunt felt in these servants. "Why!" saidshe, with a faint smile, "aunt Sue would trust daddy Csesarj and maum Millie, as much as if they were respectable white folks." * . The girl looked back for a last glimpse of the pleasant home. Good, motherly Mrs. Taylor, stood still in the portico, watching the carriage. What a haven it Had been to her! The two weeks gone had been very happy, and a dread (lost sight of during that time) came back upon her. What were to be the Aatra to nnmo? T/wk hflY>k TTflnrifittA McAf thur! Look back again! You,leave behind you the halcyon days of joy and peacfe, never, never more, to be known by your tried heart! CHAPTER III . Near the south fork of Fishing Creek, about eight pfciles from Chestervill^South Carolina, on the old Wad* ' "Old ]N ation Ford," not long after this cop^ptfi 17 began, stood a ferm house. The yard level, and neatly swept, with fine spreading shade trees of oak and hickory, standing in altAheir natural beauty around, giving the place, in the sultriest days, the air ofa "coolly calm retreat" The house was built of large logs, hewed smoothly on all sides, and notched at the ends to fit so nicely, one lay on the. other with scarcely a crevice between. The style of its architecture was the simple old plan of one large hall-room to begin with? then the addition of shed-rooms all around. In front, a piazza ran the length of the large room, which opened on it. The house stood very near the road, and all its surroundings, from the good stables aod well filled corn-crib, to the well scoured chairs and bucket in the piazza, so unmistakably betokened thrift and neatness, travellers were often impelled, irresistibly, to stop and ask lodgings in such comfortable looking quarters. Even had it not been the custom of the country to turn no man frOra your door, Mr. McCollough's warm, hospitable nature, would never have permitted . * *1 i. mm to send toe stranger on xor auouier reai-1 ing place. As for the moderate remuneration he required, 'twas such a mere pittance, it would never have excited cupidity to feed and house the weary way-farer. One, who once partook of Mrs. McCollough's house-wifery, never passed that way without asking to test it again. The thoroughly baked bread, beautiful yellow butter, and rich milk, so deliciously cool, just from her well ordered springhouse, were not to be forgotten; and weary limbs gratefully remembere<^the well aired rooms and nicely made up beds received at her hands. " . The truth was, Mr. Samuel McCollough, the owner of this house and farm, and", his ' wife, Mrs. Margery McCollough, were two such people as do not often mate, for fate is not frequently so propitious as to give to man a help-meet so entirely one, as this man had found his wife. The former was a middle aged man when he married, but when he cfcooae, did it wisely, and took to his home a Worth. * fhe golden rule was the guide of their lives, and under its teachings they won the highest respect of aW who knew them?the deepest love from those who tried them. Under the common garb and homely manners of this husband and wife, beat as pure hearts as ever warms the breasts of our fallen humanity. One July evening, as the sun went down on the fields of smiling corn, Mr. McCollough and his negro man, Jake, said "woa" to their nags, unhitched them from the ploughs, and mounting them, gears and all, rode toward the house. When they reached the watering place, the animals stopped to drink, and the master dismounted, leaving both horses to the care of the servant, and walked briskly up to the house. In the piazza, he found his wife nursing the hero of the month?their first child?now three weeks old. "Well! how's the boy and his mammy?" asked the farmer heartily, bending over the embryo "Lord of Creation," and peering into its mushy red face, with the interested admiration only given by a father to a first-born. "Oh! fine," answered the dame. "Don't you want to hold him, till I can set the suppertable?" Very awkwardly, but very willingly, the good husband assumed the charge. His wife soon got through her little task and came to relieve him of the infant, when a carriage stopped at the gate. The driver was about thirty-five years old, apparently, and evidently a gentleman. "Can we stay here all night ?" he asked. "I don't like to'refuse you," said Mr. McGollough, "but my wife is hardly strong enough to wait on strangers." ' "You must really let us stop," continued the gentleman. "There is a lady in the carriage who is not able to go farther; and, besides, I know here we will find comfort." "You will have to let them come in, Sara," said Mrs. McCollough. "You know Mrs. Downing is sick, and they can't get in there, and it's a good piece farther to John Kelsey's. I've got a fine loaf of bread done for supper, and it won't be much trouble to take them in." s* ft 1 11 1 ! f/?. 1 1 Mr. Mcuonougn was giaa ms wiie nau arr nged it so, and the gentleman assisted the lady out, almost before Mrs. McCullough was done speaking, so desirous was he of stopping. The lady looked ill, and in a few moments was disrobed, and occupying one of the good beds, with which the house was abundantly stocked. Before the morning dawned, another infant's cry beside that of the baby McCollough, was heard in the farm-house. "The woman remembered no more her anguish, for joy that a man was born into the worldand the gentleman, in the morning, explained to Mr. McCollough "it was business of the most urgent necessity" which had called him to start with the lady, for Georgia, at this time. Of course she had to remain quiet now, but this state of the case rendered it more imperative for him to proceed at once; and as child and mother were so comfortable and so fortunate in their entertainers, he left, much lighter of heart than he could have believed possible. Mr. and Mrs. McCollough, on this explanation, promised all care of the two left in their ?J i*-- ?i.- ?:J J cnarge, ana uie geuueinuu, as ue saiu gwubye, left in Mr. McCollough's hand a puree, begging he would provide for every want of the lady and child, and also find in the amount an advance for their board. The new baby throve finely, and the mother, a young, quiet creature, got on nicely. She was so pleasant spoken, easily satisfied, and, in addition, grateful for attention, Mrs. McCollough declared it was a real pleasure to "do for her," and the dame would try to Keep up her spirits by getting up a mock quarrel in regard to the relative growth of the baby boys and their rival beauty.. In spite of all, the young mother seemed very sad, and -the elder woman often saw a sorrowful look on her face, and tears which she tried to hide; and which kind Mrs. McCollough, with fine native delicacy, would affect not to see, as she would bend over and bury her face in her child's dress; then passionately kiss its brow, neck and cheeks. The young mother, with affectionate grace, begged the kind couple to call her Mary, which fhov rAflitilv did. and waited, without ques tioning or curiosity, her own time to give her other name. Her escort left behind him, on the morning of his departure, a newspaper. It was a happja accident for Mr. McCollough, who loved reading and politics. Newspapers were not, at that day, as now, every day necessities; but ^luxury, enjoycd .yuly by a few. This paper contained a speech of.'John Randolph's, tbef&ingof allothersto delight the former's heart He vrff* from the "Old ^Dominion," and before he removed south,'had heard Jack Randolph on the stump, and been inspired by his eloquence with an undying admiration of his great talents. The stray sheet was. a treasure, but doubly so with such contents, and while the time of the women was taken up with the babies, he, each leisure moment, conned the columns of his paper with delight, reading and re-reading here and there, and to every passing neighbor repeating some of the < great Virginian's sentiments. This statesman was Mr. McCollough's hero.' He nailed his 1 faith to him as the most wonderful and most' i honest politician living. 1 Mr. McCollough's fight with the grass was about over, and he was the victor. One day he came into dinner and cheerily announced he would finish "laying by," by dark; and wiping his reeking brow on his shirt-sleeve, said pleasantly to the lady, , "Well, Mary, your boy and mine look like i nlAAMMM iltAMA U/\^U in AHA AMJIO DO I WW 11 IB aiccpiug bUOlC UUIOJ 1U UUO viavuv. JLMJ the way, what are you going to call him ? It's bad luck to let a baby be a mouth old before naming it, and his first month in this world will be completed to-morrow." "I want you to name him for me, Mr. McCollough. It's the only way I can show you how I appreciate all your kindness toward me." "Pooh! pooh! don't talk about kindness. Little enough I've done, to what I've the heart to do, if you needed it. But are you in earnest that I should name your child ?" MYe$rsir, indeed I am, for either Mrs. McCollough or yourself to name him." "I'll do it better than Margery. She had her time with our baby, and called him Sam after me, as it was my father's and my grand father's name. I was willing, and if he'll make the man they were, I'll be a proud man. Now I'm going to name your baby John Randolph, and* if he comes up to JaclrRandolph, of Roanoke, you'll be a proud woman. . 3n/tfitJic you are not',p^SRfR^S?^i^ I've given him." "Yes, indeed, I like it," she said, earnestly ,* but the tears, evidently beyond her power to restrain, flowed freely. It would seem some tender chord of feeling had been touched. The babe just then awakened, and she took him up out of the cradle, where he had been lying by the side of little Sam McCollough, pressed his cheek to her lips, her tears the while bedewing his little face, and murmured the name, just given, several times over; thus as it were, seeming in tears and caresses to baptize the babe John Randolph. A few minutes later, Mrs. McCullough called her husband and boarder to the plain .?11 JinnAW wIiiaIi oVtA 01 irotro I uub vrcn picpaicu uiuuu, nuivu guv umwjo bad. The lady had little appetite, nor could her hostess tempt it by crowding her plate with the choicest parts of the chicken stew and mealiest of the large potatoes. These fits of depression were of frequent occurrence and excited sympathy, but no especial interest in her kind-hearted entertainers. The meal concluded, Mr. McCollough took an admiring look at the babies, again asleep, and both ly ing in little Sam's cradle, declaring they were the brag boys of the neighborhood, and with a clear whistle strode off to gear up his horse and get back to the field again. He was just disappearing over the brow of j the hill which overhung his bottoms, where his work lay, when the mother of little John ' Randolph came out of her room, to the larger one, where Mrs. McCollough was seated with her work. She had a small bundle in her ] hand. "Mrs. McCollough," she said, "I want to ( go down to the 'wash-place' to wash out these little things. Will you be so good as to take ] care of my baby till I return." "Certainly I will; but if I was you I would ( let them alone till free Peggy comes to do your regular washing." "It's only a few little things I need?take : care of my boy till I come back 1" - "Don't be afraid. I'll take as good care of : him as I do of Sammy." The lady passed out and Mrs. McCollough sat knitting on?one eye on the babies, and one on the big road to see who passed, by? attending, indiscriminately, to either child as their wants required her. Lengthening shadows warned her supper time was not far off, and she arose and busied herself in preparations for it. The babies both got sleepy while she was thus employed, and wanting to be put to sleep, began to fret. Wondering what ; could be detaining her boarder, she tried to see to three things at once, but found her hands very full with two crying babies and and supper to see to, and felt impatient for the assistance of her guest at her three-fold task. The boys were at a real crying match when Mr. McCollough entered, who wanted to ' know the meaning of such an uncommon uproar. i "They are both sleepy," said his wife. "I'm ( glad you have come. Supper is about ready; | so do step to the fence and call Mary. She 1 went down to wash out a few pieces and she ] has been gone long enough to do a good washing." ^ | "She's not used to such work, do you think, , Margery?" "No, I know she's not. The last time I was washing she came down and did out a piece or two, and I could see it was new work, but Peggy was contrary that week J and Mary would not hear to my doing it for . her." , "She's a real nice girl, but it seems to me f she has a trouble on her mind." * " i es; out gntuiuua iuc, w?? ?.4 have started fresh. Do step to^e fenqeand call her; its after sundown, and she ought not to be out in the dew." "Mr. McCollough called and called, but could hear no answer; sd he went on dowa to the wash-place. No one was there, and he turned back and went up to the fcobsp, surmising she was probably hanging the things, she had washed, on the garden fence, to remain the night, and in one of her abstracted moods bad not heeded his calls. The boys were quieted as he entered the house, but his wffh s -? ' ' ? i - l-J * J TM" . ?. asKea u ne naa iouuu uimij. "No, she was not at the wash-place, * I came up and went in the garden, thinking sl^ might be there hanging out her things, ia not, and must be in her room." "Nor, she is not there; I've just thiafcfompai i come out. Where can she bft? I teilyW" what I'm afraid of, she's gone' to; g?t ifem berries which grow on &e creek, th^t 3frs. Kelsey said was good for the hives. Dear me, surely she's not fallen in. They grow .in a - - ?< mighty shelving place." /. t-a.: The spot indicated was not far off, and Mr. McCollough hurried to it, but'th*'waning lightrevealed bushes unbroken. He fetumed by the wash-place. The ashes beneath' the pot were cold; the bench and paddle dry. He gave ven> to numberless cries and halloos. There was no reply but the echo of his voice reverberating from the hills on either side of the creek. He was now seriously alarmed, and sent a negro man one way and went another himself, to collect the men of the neighborhood, to search the woods and drag the creek that night It was useless work. No trace could be discovered of the' missing woman. [to be continued next week.] 4 ? ? > / J* BOILED WHEAT FOB DYSPEPTIC8. Soak about a quart of clean white wheat in warm water for twelve hours or until die ker- ? els are thoroughly cooked) in a farina kettle, or in a tin pail placed in another kettle eon*' taining water. Let a few large nails'or small stones be put in the large kettle to keep the pail from resting on the bottom. By this means the wheat can be cooked a long time without scorching it If the vessel containing the wheat is not kept in hot water the wheat will scorch and burn, even if the mass is stirred while it is being cooked. After the kernels are quite soft, add salt to saifr die taste. But wheat should never be salted' before it is cooked, as salt will render the; bran tough. Wheat thus prepared is excelhpt.when eaten in milk, or dressed with cream and sugar. Procure the best quality of white wheat, as red wheat is liable to be tough. Only a small portion of the wheat received at city flouring mills is sufficiently free from rat and mice litter and foul seed to be cooked in the foregoing manner. The practice of the writer has Wo, for a few years past, to procure a small bag of clean wheat from some good farmer who cultivates clean, plump grain. Aside from the surprising economy in providing such an article of diet, boiled wheat is one of the very best kinds of food that invalids, bilious and high-living dyspeptics can eat No medicine is comparable to it for givu*iUi JuhJ.-imil i?^ been accustomed to subsist largely on beef- \ steak and oysters was laid on a sick bed, last autumn, and his physician assured him he could prepare for an unwelcome case of phoid fever. We sent to him a few pounu* of wheat, with directions for cooking and eating, and, as we anticipated, he was at his business in four days, quite well. He abandoned the use of meat, except in small quantities two or tliwAA + Jwftn a n-nnlr on/1 ooV7Q fVin Vkflfl VUiCC UUiW ( TTWttj uuu iIM^S vuv HUVMV mww made almost a new man of him. Such soft food will digest easily, it is sufficiently bulky to distend the stomach, and no other food will make better blood. Boiled wheat is far superior to wheaten grits and graham bread.? Christian Weekly. A Precocious Youngster?John,- of Watertown, is fond of children, but has none of his own. One day his house was visited by two mothers, each with boys four or five years old, smart little fellows and bright as silver dimes. Jones had occasion to harness up his horse to go to a store a few miles off, and as the lads were plaving on the lawn, he took them in his open buggy for the drive, not informing their parents of the fact On their way to the store the horse got frightened and ran away. Jones was thrown out but escaped injury. The five year old lad crawled under the seat of the buggy, and tumbled from the rear of the vehicle and was pickup unhurt, while the four-year old grasped the dasher with both hands and remained in the buggy. The horse dashed on like wild terror, and at last plunged down an embankment, where he smashed himself and the buggy. Jones arrived at the wreck as soon as possible, expecting to find the child dead or terribly injured, Dut to his surprise he found the little fellow still grasping the dasher, standing on his feet and entirely uninjured. "0 Willy!" cried Jones, running forward, "are you uninjured ?" ?T_! j t?> ?: j it. i.j _ 4...j lujureu : saiu me iuu, iu ? wuc ui ouiprise, "no I ain't hurted, but I'll tell you what it is," assuming a confidential air, "Mr. Jones, this is the goldarnedest horse I ever did ride ifterinmy life I" ? ? "Whiskey Has Used Him Up."?There is scarcely a community or neighborhood from Maine to Oregon where this saying is not used almost every day in the year, an J altogether . too truly. A subject of this kind is to be^^ggJ found in almost every town. The merchawJ^^H has failed and whiskey has done it. The b^^^^H ver with brilliant talent and a large busi^^^H^H has fallen below the range of respectabj^^^HH and confidence; whiskey was the cause^^R^^fl^H politician with bright prospects be^rfre him^^^H has played out, and the account isicharged to whiskey. The judge of talent, pge and respectability is the subject of privatfe and neighborhod and talk. His enemies pcfcnt with derision, and his friends hang thenr heads in shame, and whiskey has done it {That kind hearted neighbor and hard worSIirc man has become a pest in society and trouble to his family. Whiskey has beat him. "Whiskey will beat any man living, and that is just what it is made for. A Happy Idea.?The High School of Springfield, Ohio, graduated the young ladies of its last class in calico dresses, as pleasing to the eye of taste as to the hand of economy. This was brought about by the thoughtful suggestion of the superintendent and the hear ly acquiescent 01 me gins memseives, on me only ground on which high schools can long be perpetuated, namely, that being supported by taxation they must be open to all classes in society and confer their advantages upon the poorest of their pupils, without prescription by fashion or creed expenses or anything else. An old colored washerwoman, who used to groan over her tubs, found consolation in the hope, that "she would soon be where robes won't need washing, and a poor creature can upset her tub and dance on the bottom of it, ringing glory, hullabaloo, forever and forever 1"