Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j A" litbepenbent Jfamilg ftcfos paper: Jor % ^amotion of t|e |)oIitiraI, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of % Sont{|. TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 18. YORKVILLB, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 1873. HO. 33. 1 - - 1 -/ - T1 LI! Jin Original ff rtee Jdotg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. AN HEIRESS IN HER OWN RIGHT. BY EMILY J. ROMEO. CHAPTER XXIII. LETTERS AND LOVE. "Do you like letter reading? If you do, I have some twenty dozen very pvetty ones, Gay, sober, rapturous, solemn, very true, And very lving stupid ones, and witty ones; On gilt-edged paper, blue perhaps, or pink, And frequently infancy colored ink." Sargent. "Marriage is a matter of more worth, Than to be dealt in by attorneyship." Shakspkare. "Love is not in our power, ^ ^ in ay, wnat seems stranger, is uui iu um ??<!?? Frowdk. There had been great difficulty in getting letters and papers regularly, ever since the war closed. The Charleston and Savannah railroad was not completed, and there was no mail route established. While Jack was in town, he had sent the mail whenever there was an opportunity; but that had been only at irregular intervals, which were very provoking to one who craved a daily or even weekly paper. Mr. Elliott did not care anything about a paper if it was a little out of date, but his wife and the Wrights were such readers they could enjoy all, new or old. Ar-. rangements were now made for Russell to take charge of the mail in the city, and every time wagons were sent for supplies, or any one in the neighborhood went on business, they should bring all there was for every one who would join them in it. In this way there would be scarcely a week without a mail. JAW mltAn Mw Pllinff'o wflffnn qH rP VUC UOJT TT iigu AUI* XiUivw w ifMgvM ???V. .? turned, Mr. Wright went over for his share. Arthur was sorting it over, and as paper after paper was laid on Mr. Wright's pile, he uttered a long whistle and broke out? "What kind of a man are you that you have such a medley of papers as this ? Here's a Southern Cultivator and a Western Rural; the Charleston Courier and a Republican; Harper's Magazine and the Atlantic; besides two religious papers?the Southern Christian Advocate and the Churchman. Are you going to make your family mongrels in politics and religion, that you give them all sorts of reading, and of such opposite kinds ?" "O, no, I don't think I shall," replied Mr. Wright, smiling at Arthur's look of surprise, as he turned over one paper and magazine after another. "I am more afraid my children will grow narrow and illiberal, prejudiced and unreasonable, if they see but one side of a subject, than injured by knowledge gained from a side with which we do not altogether agree." "But you are not a politician, that you should take Republican papers and help support them in doing the country so much harm. Every subscriber adds to their influence." "If I am no politician, I am a man who wishes to know what is going on, and how the great questions of the day are presented by both sides. I cannot always support a meas^ ure merely because it is brought forward by ray party, no matter how well I may agree with it generally. I must see both sides and compare them before I decide what course to pursue. I am not governed by the dictum of any party. And as to believing either party is wholly right or entirely wrong, why, no one of common sense does that" "But if you can read both sides and view things impartially, are you not afraid your children may not be able to do so, and may become poisoned by wrong views speciously presented ?" asked Mr. Elliott. "There is little danger of that, for they hear so much in favor of one side and against the other; and the party in power are blundering so miserably and wilfully, they will hardly be inclined to give sufficient credit to good views and well attested facts, if they read them in any but our party organs." "Our own papers color truths too highly, I sometimes find," said Mr. Elliott, to the surprise of Mr. Wright, as he was generally very strongly one-sided, very heated in hearing views different from his own. "I think the tendency of the times is not only to color too highly, but to go to such ex tremes that it is hard for one to keep on middle grounds and try to stand firm on some solid basis. If you commit yourself to some good, reasonable measure; before you are aware, you are swept and swayed far beyond the point first intended, and carried to au extreme you cannot more than half sanction. But talking wont mend matters. I see you take a variety of papers as well as I. Don't you fear for Stuart?" Yet Mr. Wright smiled as he asked it. "He takes no interest in political news, or I might have given him a caution ; and as to j those literary periodicals, my wife, like you, will have the best, no matter where they are ' published. Because we do not agree with a ! people politically, and suffer from the hard j and unjust oppressions of their unscrupulous ! rulers, that need not make us condemn what is good, nor prevent our enjoying it if we can." ?- Ellen was surely correct in saying "the wine of Mr. Elliott's nature had not turned to vinegar." After he could see clearly that the employed was not necessarily the inferior of the employer?the ground he had taken, when so excited over the business Russell chose?he had been growing less hard and bitter. When that prejudice had been conquered, it paVed the way for others to be up-! rooted, though enough remained to show there was plenty of the "Elliott" left in him. Now that the mail bag is opened, we will give extracts from letters received during the year. The first is from Mr. Henry?was received early in March?and was then two months old. Of course the whole letter would be too long for insertion, but these sentences will show its drift: "I wrote you in '65, asking you to attend I my silver wedding?a small yet pleasant | ^ affair?but made allowances for your not j coming and perhaps not receiving the invita- J tion, mail facilities were so much out of order at that time. Last year I wrote twice, telling how I was getting along, and giving an account of affairs in the State which you would not find in the papers; but no replies came. I had resolved not to write again till I heard from you ; but one of my wife's nephews, who has been spending Christmas with us, gives me no rest since he found I was a friend of yours,! and to please him I renew my one-sided cor- \ respondence. To tell the plain truth though, I am not so loth to write as I should be if I knew there was not a chance that you had not received my other favors. Tell Miss Grace I am not surprised to hear of her as a heroine. ~ I thought she had the soul for anything love or ! duty could prompt; and I'll venture to say she is an "heiress" long before this?shewill'understand the kind I mean. Now you are won: dering what I have to tell, but I rarely make J a "long story short" in a letter, which, like ; familiar conversation, often receives its greatest charm from little desultory things dropped in here and there, as fancy suggests. My wife's nephew is a Captain Clintou, of Auburn, N. Y. Do you recognize the name? He is a noble fellow. You would like him much if you could become intimately acquainted with him. He thinks highly of you, but I tell him it is more because he thinks such a daughter as your Grace must have a fine father, than because he could judge of you in the short time he saw you on that eveutful night, when you were saved by your daughter's intrepidity. I know you give her a warmer corner in your heart than all the | others, not excepting your little pet, Alice. I am proud of her for you. My daughters never tire of hearing Clinton eulogize her beauty, sweetness and bravery. His wife? he was married last year?says she should be jealous if he looked on Miss Grace as a common mortal ; but as he holds her enshrined iu his soul a fair saint, to be approached only with reverence and pure offerings of honor, she can't find it in her heart to be displeased at his devotion. "While on the subject, it is well to do justice even to an enemy. Col. Ford, who was so angry with you and really did intend you harm, was quite shocked at himself after he became cool, to learn your son, Claude, was dead; and when Clinton thought it would soften him still more to hear of how you escaped him that morning, he was so touched by the recital as to wish he could see you and tell you how glad he was you escaped in safety. He says Miss Grace little knew how much danger she really ran, for there was a foraging party out that very hour, coming in from a regular bummer expedition, and strange negroes were coming and going at all hours. Col. Ford's Regiment was transferred to the West about the time you lost your son, and he supposed him still leading his men in Virginia. He has married iuto a good family, the height of his ambition, so Clinton thinks his temper will improve." rr" - " ? e :i it j men ionowea various iaruny luuncxa ?uu a warm invitation for Mr. Elliott to bring on his family to spend the summer. Mr. Elliott answered the letter at once; but could not give the glowing account of his prosperity he had anticipated when his visions j of peace and good fortune were so bright,, more than two years before. I Georgia's announcement of her safe arrival j at home was also received before Easter, j Among other things was this item? "Do you not recollect Mr. Van Vechten, a fine looking man, who spent the evening at uncle Willis Elliott's, the day we were there ? Well, he was our traveling companion all the way here, and is going to spend some time in the city. Eugene likes him extremely well, and I am much pleased, too; but Conway seems to almost hate him. I could see he was very much interested in her froin the first, and he paid her every attention possible. Sometimes she received his notice politely, and sometimes so ungraciously I had to remonstrate with her. The most singular thing is his saying he has known of Conway some two years and desired her acquaintance; yet he was never in South Carolina until this spring." CVmwnv wrotfl? J I "We had for company from Charleston, a Mr. Van Vechten, who would have been a very tolerable acquaintance if I could have forgotten he was a Northerner. The name, you see, is foreign ; but he says the family has been in America so long they never think of looking upon themselves as anything but New Yorkers. "He was quite serviceable on occasions when Eugene had his hands full with Georgia and the children. It is hardly worth while to mention the man, but for his exciting us a little by saying he had heard a great deal about me some two years ago, and I could probably recall the important occasion which had given him a desire to form my acquaintance, as I then occupied the "seat of honor." I can't make it out" A month later Georgia wrote? "We have found out the wonderful allusion which puzzled us so much. It is Grace and not Conway of whom Mr. Van Vechten had heard. Captain Clinton is his cousin, and ; had told him of that memorable ride which j made Grace such a heroine. It is strange ! when she so much dislikes for any one to know anything about it, that it should have | gone so far, and in such a way as to go back i to her again ! I think Mr. Van Vechten was j greatly disappointed to think Conway is not the oue he thought he was giving so much , honor; but she says she is glad the man has! found his mistake and won't be admiring her j through the halo of another's glory. I see she is going to be a great belle ; she has al-j ready created quite a sensation." Here, from a letter written in the summer, ! we take? "I wrote to Grace yesterday, telling her how pleased we all are at her engagement. I send ten thousand good wishes to Jack? bashful boy?who might have known years ago that Grace was made for him, if grandmother?heaven rest her soul?had not made that engagement between him and Conway when they were such children as not to know their own hearts. Tell him not to be impatient for the important day, as it would mar ray plans for Grace to marry before her elder sister; but whether they marry soou or not, Conway shall never stay single to "lead apes in the regions below." I don't know but she is somewhat disappointed that we gave up our Northern tour, though she says she is not. We have a great deal of society around our summer place, and Conway is queen of all the beauties and belles. She is more admired than I had expected, aud you knowthat is a great deal to say. I am glad she is no coquette; out it seems very nara ior ner ; to decide whom she shall like best among so ; many, and some so desirable." Early in the fall Georgia's letters had a disappointed tone? "Conway says she must go homo to be at Grace's wedding, and I cannot say nay to that; but to think she has refused so many good offers this year?ones that would have given her a home by me with everything she j could wish?is a disappointment too great to | bear patiently. She says she cannot marry just to suit me, and I know that; but she might suit herself, I should think, among j some who have addressed her lately. You j know, mother, I have more delicacy than to j manoeuvre a match, and no one here has ever j heard the remark I made last winter, "that one of my sisters must marry and live near me," but I should almost think that alone was what comes between Conway and some of her suitors, if it were not such a trifle. Conway is much changed in some of her feelings I see, for last winter she often said she xmdd not, coxild not marry a poor man ; she must have luxuries or she could not marry. Now she speaks of love as the greatest considera- j tion ; she could welcome poverty, and do or dare anything for one who could win her heart. She puzzles and provokes me too." Still later came this? "I can hardly believe what I am about to write, though I know it is positively true. Conway is engaged and will live here in New Orleans; but that is not the strange part. ! She is in love, just as much in love as I ever | ! was with Eugene; but with whom you would ; I never guess, though your astonishment cannot j 1 be as great as mine was. It is Mr. Van | ! Vechten, the same man I thought she hated, i It seems it was love at sight on both sides, \ j and Conway only hated herself for losing her j ; heart in spite of her determination not to , ; yield. She can console herself by thinking | that it took a steady siege to win her hand after her heart was gone. He visited here constantly in the spring and I thought it was j a relief to Conway when he went home. That he wrote to her regularly?in spite of j her silence?I never dreamed ; and Eugene had so little curiosity as to never look at the post-mark of a letter when he brought it home; so you may imagine our surprise when Mr. ' Van Vechten came back a few weeks ago, and ; made Conway a formal offer. She tried to refuse him but he persevered in his suit, and ? ? _i J? u i.:n | now sue acKnowieuges n wouiu mh uei w , give him up. She made one stipulation?that Mr. Van Vechten should either live here or 1 in Charleston, and he has decided to go into ! business here. Of course I am delighted." j Conway herself wrote? "Georgia has told you all about me, and I I know you will be astonished after the many j times I have declared I would rather die than j marry a Northerner. But mother's saying is true, "We never know what we shall do until we are tried." i "Only think! Mr. Van Vechten fell in love with me for Grace, and I should be tempted : to Bay I am glad she is to be married as soon i as we are, did I not know that even her ! charms cannot win him from me now. We j shall be there about a week before the day ; Jack has set for his "little affair," and shall j beg your and father's permission for ours to come off at the same time, quietly and without any great preparations. Mr. Van Vech ten has written to father and given him information, which was entirely new to me till Eugene told me of it to-night. I thought him almost a poor man, and was dreaming of "love in a cottage and though not sorry it will turn out a palace, I could bear anything, any lot, so Mr. Van Vechten shared it with j me." Mrs. Elliott could hardly believe it was Conway who wrote thus, till she called to mind her deep nature and firmness when she I had resolved on any course. Love had conquered pride and prejudice. The struggle ; had lasted through the summer, but the victory was decisive. Russell, about this time, wrote to his father for advice. Eugene had made him an excellent offer, and his enmlovers in Charleston wished him to remain there. After letters pro and con, Mr. Elliott agreed with Russell that Eagene's offer was the best, and letters of acceptance were written. One week at home would be all he could give, and Mrs. Elliott's tears fell in spite of every effort at control, that two more of her children would be so far from her; yet for Georgia's sake she was glad. She never told Grace how she suffered in town, and then while Grace was there, for her tender care during her headaches, lest it should grieve her; and now thatsheraust learn to bear the pain and never have her near, it added to her sufferings; but when Grace spoke of it and feared she ought not to marry and leave her, Mrs. Elliott hid her own feelings, and would not listen to anything which could cast a shadow over the plans and hopes of her darling. Mr. Elliott remembered having been pleased with Mr. Van Vechten when he met him in the spring, and he obtained more flattering credentials of his position, fortune and family than he had expected. That disastrous year, as so many found 1867, was certainly an unfavorable one to Mr. Elliott; aud it may be that seeing how unfortunate he was, and what a gloomy prospect was before him, made him give his consent to the marriage of his two daughters more readi^ ** Uft/1 nnfininotflrl 1J UittU vuxzj iiau auuvij^ui^ut Jack had done better with his small farm and few workmen than Mr. Elliott with his great plantation and hundreds of hands ; for he had made expenses and something to live on another year, which was more than his uncle had. Conway came home radiantly beautiful in the great affection which seemed to pervade every emotion of her soul. She was transformed ; and every virtue, good quality and grace of mind or manner, had received new strength and beauty. She was no lovesick girl?but a strong, noble, loving woman. Mrs. Elliott saw that all which had been ' lacking to make Conway as perfect as Grace ! was now found ; and as the days wore on, she ; could but ackowledge Mr. Van Vechten j was worthy of the peerless being he was so proud of winning. Georgia could not be home to the weddings. Her baby, a boy, was too young for her to i take such a journey; but she was there in spirit, and knew two lovelier brides would never be married in her uncle's chapel again. Conway took precedence on account of age, and was married first; but it would be difficult to say who took rank in happiness. Mr. Ellison was the officiating clergyman, and one of the fondest wishes of his heart was realized when he had finished the solemn ceremony which made Grace the wife of his well-beloved Jack. There was no party?just a family dinner? I after the double wedding. The word is used j understanding^, and not in the local sense i which confines it to wedding festivities, and ' Conway setoff on a grand tour, spendingsome \ j weeks in Washington, and several with her hus-! band's relatives, before going to New Orleans to preside over an elegant mansion, furnished ; : with every luxury wealth and taste could i | purchase. j Grace went at once to Jack's humble home. ; | and began at once a routine of daily duties,1 | relieved from homeliness by the light of love; j and so happy and blest was she in her busy, ?a.i rt4- Atrnn TVTf ovni' I ! USCiUl IMC, mat IlUt uvuu tun umuti< KIV1 murmured that she was not surrounded by j all the appliances of affluence and ease. Tom Wright had been married early in the month, and was present at the weddings, with his dark-eyed little brunette, who "might not [ be a beauty; but certainly was the sweetest, ; dearest wife in the world," if Tom's word : could decide it She certainly was a good \ wife, and proved a help-meet for Tom in every , respect. She presided over her log house j with as much energy as if it had been of j marble. "It is no disgrace to begiu at the foot of the hill," said she, cheerfully, "if we | dou't stay there." "You have the start of me now," said Tom i I to Jack, "but in five years I'll be even with j I you, and in ten ahead; for I know how to , 1 save where you don't, and not be stingy either." Three years and a-half have proved the I truth of Tom's assertion. Russell left shortly after the two brides, aud lonely, lonely, was the house to Mrs. Elliott for many long days. CHAPTER XXIV. A LITTLE TRIP PROPOSED?POETRY AND SOLEMN PROSE. The mountains holier visions bring Than e'er in vales arise, As brightest sunshine bathes the wing That's nearest to the skies. Mrs. Hale. Poetry is itself a thing of God.?Bailey. Death, thou art infinite;?'tis Life is little. Bailey. The threads of a story will run so smoothly for a time it causes a sigh when all cannot be carried together; but some must be dropped Lo fa Iron ii n afterward. So few of ours. however, have slipped from our fingers, it will be but a slight task to gather them up and bring them out smooth and even. Events have gone so happily and smoothly at Mr. Ellisons and our good friend Wright's, that it was not necessary to bring them forward with prominence; but after the crops were gathered and the busy season was not hurrying every one, Mr. Wright prepared to carry out a plan long cherished by Albert and Henry. He carried Stuart an invitation to join them, which nearly turned his head, he was so anxious to accept it. "Do say yes, father! Do give your consent," cried he, running in with the eagerness of a child of six, rather than the manner of a youth, who for a week had been boasting he was "now going in sixteen." "What is it? I can't promise to say yes, without knowing what you wish," replied Mr. Elliott. "He'll tell you and Stuart stepped back and pointed to Mr. Wright, as his cheerful face appeared in the door. The greetings were soon over, and Mr. Wright opened his errand. "I am going up the country with Albert and Henry, for a three or four weeks' ramble, and the boys are very anxious for Stuart to accompany us, sol have brought an invitation in their name." "What is the object of your trip?" asked Mr. Elliott "To see and learn something new. The boys have nevev been any where away Irora the low country since they were old enough to remember, and I want to show them something different. They are growing so fast, it is time they learned from their own observation that there is more in the world than Charleston city and Combahee plantations; and a few days among the mountains will give them lessons and ideas not to be learned from books or verbal descriptions. They are wide awake about the journey." "How are you going, and to what particular place?" And Stuart began to fear his father's questioning was a prelude to a refusal when he should find how the jaunt was to be conducted. "We shall take the railroad from Charleston to the nearest point in the mountains, and when the cars stop we are to take it afoot, knapsack on our backs, like soldiers. I'll promise to take good care of Stuart, the same as I do of my boys, and I'll engage he comes back all right." "Please, father, don't say no," said Stuart so entreatingly, Mr. Elliott shirked the responsi bility of deciding by saying?"If you can get your mother's consent, I don't know but you may go." Stuart threw his arms around his mother's neck, and with his face against her's, his "Please, mother?dear mother," reminded her of the time when he was a little child, and not as now, a tall, manly youth. Taking one of the hands, which more than covered hers, she said?"If it was not so late in the season I should not hesitate; but it is so cold and disagreeable ia the mountains by this time of the year, that I am afraid to say yes." "I am not afraid of the cold. I can dress warm. Henry "Wright is going, and he is younger than I." Stuart's heart was in his mouth, and he clasped his mother still closer before he released her neck and walked 1 TT I i ,i__: j to tne winaow. xie nau never ueaneu anything more strongly. "I know," said Mr. Wright, "this is not as good a time as summer; but I am too busy then, and can't afford to lose the time. We shall not try to climb mountains and undertake great feats during storms and bad weather; but we can look at them, visit many points of interest, and learn something not to be known by staying at home." "What outfit will Stuart need ?" "I may go, then ?" And on the strength of his mother's smile, Stuart was out of the room and down the steps with a happy shout. "I like to see ardor, enthusiasm and life in a boy," said Mr. Wright. "I wish children to be intelligent, but not old for their age. As to an outfit, little is needed. A suit of thick, warm clothes, strong shoes, a few extra underclothes and a note-book. A little money for necessary expenses?none for wasteful extravagance." "A gun! I shall need a gun, shan't I ?" suggested Stuart, who had returned a little more quietly than he went out. "We shall have one along, and that will be ! enough, as the trip is more for instruction than | amusement." A few minutes afterward, while Mrs. Elliott, [ her husband and Mr. Wright, were still talk-1 ing of the little journey and its aim, Grace ; entered. Holding out both her hands, she j said?"What a stranger you are! You have i not been in the house before for months. If | it was not for a glimpse of you Sundays, I should never know you were in the neighborhood." "I've been too busy all the year to go any where; and since bJIen was married, yon j can't pass her door?or you haven't, when ! I've been home?for a long time." "No, I haven't; for the 'servant question' j had to receive so much attention from ray j hands"?she turned them over with a little graceful movement to give emphasis to her j words?"but now we have a new cook and j house-girl, and I hope they will hold out as | well as they begin. What are you doing or planning ? You know I always have a great deal to ask, when we meet so seldom." The contemplated trip was given. "I envy the boys," exclaimed she. "How I should enjoy such a healthful, interesting excursion ! It will be delightful 1" "I intend taking Julia next year, if this ramble answers our anticipations; and you are herewith invited to accompany her." "Thank you. I shall wish to go, but can't make any positive promise so long ahead." Mr. Wright understood why her face was t so rosy, and her answer vague; but Mr. Elliott \ did not think of Jack at the moment and i said?"I stipulate that the journey be in the summer, then." a "What have yon new on hand to read ?" a And this question caused a diversion. t "A volume of poems which I like very t much, indeed. You can have the book while I am gone, and I think you will enjoy it." t "I am Bure I shall, if you recommend it. i Your taste and mine agree very well. Do tell 1 us, Mr. Wright, if you don't write poetry a yourself? You enjoy it so much, and have e so much in your every-day life, I'm sure you must write sometimes." t "I can't do better than answer you in the . words of a little gem I found lately in a piece C of ragged newspaper? i "Birds are singing 'neath my window? ; Songs the sweetest ever heard, And I hang my cage there daily, But I never catch a bird. So with thoughts my brain is peopled, And they sing there all day long; But they will not fold their pinions c In the fairy cage of song.'r "That is beautiful!" exclaimed both ladies. "You must write it for me," said Grace. * "Do you know the author ?" "No; I wish I did. But it was on such a v torn scrap, I could not even tell what paper t it was published in. I am sure, though, none 1 but a poet could have made such a beautiful v thought 'fold its pinions in the fairy cage of _> ? 8 SOOg. g "I wish we could learn who wrote it," said g Grace ; "half the pleasure is in knowing the g author of any thing we admire." s "I think so, too. That verse possesses me; and next to wishing I could write as well, is the desire to know who was so fortunate as to 1 be its author." ? "I am like Grace, Mr. Wright, and think g you must sometimes attempt poetry," said . Mrs. Elliott. t "No; I appreciate good poetry too well to 1 think I could ever deserve the 'laurel wreath,' c and I dislike poor verses enough not to add 1 to the trash that floods the papers. I think f my son Henry has a knack of 'stringing -j rhymes,' but he is so timid about it, one rarely gets a glimpse of them." ( "What! your blushing, bashful Henry, a who runs if any one speaks to him, or looks e - " ' !! ! -! J 1 as it' his lace would Durn up, n ne is uumereu and can't escape being questioned ?" said I Grace, in surprise. ~ "The.same one. He can talk glibly enough ( at home and among other boys," but is pain- f fully embarrassed in ladies' company." 1 * * * * * ? The journey to the mountains proved more f interesting than any one had anticipated. Every thing they saw and heard was turned ? to some account. A journal of their doings J was kept, and every night read and comment- f ed on. Mr. Wright kept it the first week; a then the boys two days at a time in turn, and i back to Mr. Wright again. Stuart had not been accustomed, like the * others, to give an account of what he saw, jj heard and thought; but he soon learned to j tell his adventures, and what he found worthy t of notice as well they. f Henry, the one so painfully shy, could 1 write the most entertaining journal of any. "My pen don't stammer, if my tongue does," he said one day to his father; and his tongue t did not, when gathered round the blazing fire a at some kind farmer's, they each gave in the i; day's exploits. Then he showed a fluency of c speech and keenness of observation far greater 9 than Albert or Stuart possessed. ? They came back with ragged shoes, mudstained clothes and keen appetites. What j "wp. saw when we were ud in the mountains" b was long a standard matter of conversation, ii and the journal was read and re-read by both I families with as much interest as if it was a D book of foreign travel by some one as celebra- ^ ted as Du Chaillu. c Julia declared she should certainly go with c them next fall, if it took a pair of shoes a day p to be cut on the rocks; and she would have done so too, if Mr. Ellison had not gone in the summer and invited her to accompany 31 Ellen. n Arthur Edwards had been in earnest in transferring his attentions to Julia Wright, ^ and she, like a sad coquette, kept him on and n off all the year. At last he could stand it t; no longer, and brought her to a point she F had intended to evade, by a plump and square c offer of himself. ^ She made her "No" as soft as possible, and a be decisive; but it hurt Arthur more than i, she believed him capable of feeling, and gave p her a lesson against flirting never to be for- a gotten. u Arthur went off to town and tried to get ? into business. Julia had told him she could not marry a man with no means of support, f; But he found himself pushed aside by men of is greater energy, till he was discouraged and f went back to be a half-way overseer, half-way P dependent to his uncle Elliott. Miss Letitia had been growing feeble all ^ summer, and instead of rallying when cold j weather came on, grew gradually worse. She j t was just able to be carried to church when ! Conway and Grace were married, and that p exertion completely prostrated her. She v never left her room after it. a Though somewhat irritable still, her temper ^ subsided with her strength, and she was not f so great a trial sick, as when well. She c lingered along till the last of January, sink- n ing so slowly, death came more like a halting t mortal than a swift-winged angel. She received some tears of real regret from her brother Tim, who really loved her. He t] actually exerted himself enough to purchase t< a headstone for her grave, and consulting j a Mrs. Elliott, agreed with her that the simple 0 Letitia Elliott. a Aged 67. f< Txraa an fflpipnt without a long and elaborate 11 epitaph. n Alice seemed not to know whether it was a n 8( sin or not to feel no sorrow on the death of g one of the household; and after pondering it ^ in her own heart awhile, carried it to her & mother. tl "Do you think it is wicked for me not to c' be sorry that cousin Letitia is in heaven ?" a Mrs. Elliott was amused at the way Alice , worded her perplexity, and as evasively re- F1 plied?"It is not wrong to be glad any one is C( in heaven after they leave this world." w "You know what I mean, mamma, and I a don't want to be wicked." si "Well, daughter, it is no sin for you not to i ? grieve aud mourn for cousin Letitia. She ri was not one who enjoyed life very much, and a we will hope she is at rest in peace, without n thinking of the little things which happened b when she was with us. You see, though, k hat you do not regret being kind and patient vith her, and all the trials you had seem not rorth remembering." "I shall remember one thing she told me, md that was to try and be as good as you are, ind then I need not fear I'd ever be a burden o any one; if I did outlive all my near relaives." "Always cherish in your memory every hing good you hear, and live up to it. There 8 no need of any one's fearing to be left friendess and uncared for if they serve the Lord iright. It is from His hand we may always ixpect abundant blessings." [conclusion next week.] [Copies of the Enqcntaji containing the previous chapters o his Story can be furnished to new subscribers.] Hiscelhweeusi fkadmg. SENATOR SUMNER'S POSITION. Washington, July 30.?Mr. Sumner has vritten a long letter to a number of colored :itizens who lately addressed him. Mr. Sumter declares for Greelev. Among his strongest jaragrapbs is the following: The present position of the colored citizen s perilous; he is exposed to injurious pressure ?hen he needs support; but I see no early exrication except in the way proposed. Let lim cut adrift from any manager who would yield him merely as a political force, with ittle regard to his own good, and bravely tand by the candidate, Greeley, who has tood by him. If Democrats unite with him o much the better. The association once be;un must naturally ripen into common friendhip and trust. SYNOPSIS OF SUMNER'S LETTER. He addresses his correspondents as gentlenen and fellow-citizens. He had delayed anwering, that he might reflect and fully inform limself. He has listened to much from both ides, but his best judgment is now in harmony vith his early conclusions. He is touched by he appeal his correspondents make. He has >een the friend of their race, and is glad they tonsider him the special advocate of their ights. They do him a simple justice when hey believe that his counsel at this critical uncture would be free from personal or parisan prejudice. Mr. Sumner contrasts the two candidates. 3reely was born in poverty and educated hiinelf in a printing office. Grant, fortunate in larly patronage, became a cadet at West .Joint, and was educated at toe puDiic exjeuse. One started with nothing but industry ind character, the other with a military coranission. One was trained as a civilian, the >ther as a soldier. Horace Greeley stood orth as a reformer and abolitionist. The President enlisted as a pro-slavery Democrat, md at the election of James Buchanan, fortiied by his vote all the pretensions of slavery, sven the Dred Scott decision. Greeley, from larly life, was earnest and constant against lavery, full of sympathy with the colored 'ace, and always foremost in the great battle or their rights. President Grant, except as a oldier summoned by the terrible accident of var, never did anything against slavery, nor las he at any time shown any sympathy with he colored race. Horace Greeley earnestly lesired that colored citizens should vote, and tbly championed impartial suffrage, but Presdeut Grant was on the other side. Beyond hese contrasts which are marked, it cannot be orgotten that Horace Greeley is a person of arge heart and large understanding, trained o support human rights. Mr. Greeley's inlustry, general knowledge, amiable nature md above all honesty, which no suspicion has ouched, are maintained; few of these things ippear in President Grant. His great success n war cannot change his record toward the olored people, while there are antecedents howing that in the prosecution of his plans ie cares nothing for the colored race. Mr. iuraner, prefacing that the story is painful, iutit must be told, gives the history of San )omingo and Hayti, where he outraged eight undred thousand blacks who were engaged a the great experiment of self-government, lere follows the history of the attempt at anexation : He alludes to the disrespect with rtiich Grant treated Fred Douglas, who, by lis invitation, was one of the San Domingo ommissioners, and says that Grant has little .1 i i apacity or industry in protecting tne coiorea i ieople, and in assuring peace at the South. I Lfter violating the constitution and internaional law to insult the black republic, and etting an example of insubordination, he was ot in a condition to rebuke law-breakers. Mr. Sumner then considers the present poition of the candidates. Each was nominated y a Republican convention; he lauds the laterial composing the Cincinnati Convenion. Comparing the character of the supporters of the two candidates, he says the ountry knows too well the military ring, the enatorial ring, the custom house ring, through rhich the President acts; such supporters are very poor recommendation. He says it is lie to say that Horace Greeley and the Republicans which nominated him at Cincinnati re any less Republican because the Democrats nite with them in the support of cherished principles and the candidate who represents hem. Mr. Sumner says, the hardihood of political alsehood reaches its extreme point, when it } asserted that under Horace Greeley the reedman will be reenslaved, or that colored people will any way suffer in their equal ights. On the contrary, they have in his ; loAfirm nnf nnlv t.lift nromiflps of the Dlatform. I ?wvw...J I A | mt also the splendid example for a full genera- j ion, during which he has never wavered in \ he assertion of their rights. To suppose that Horace Greeley, when j laced where he can do them the most good,! nil depart from the rule of his honest life, is j n insult to reason. It is none the less idle to uppose that Democrats supporting Horace Jreeley expect or desire that he should depart rom those principles which are the glory of his haracter. They have accepted the Cincinati platform with two-fold promises, and in- j end in good faith to maintain it. Gentlemen, j a thus answering your two inquiries, I have hown why you, as colored citizens, and also : 11 who would uphold your rights and save ' he colored race from indignity, should refuse j a sanction the reelection of the President, | nd put your trust in Horace Greeley. I i ught to add that with him will be associated : s Vice-President Brown, whom I have known ; 3r years as a most determined abolitionist., 'he two will carry into the national governlent an unswerving devotion to your rights,, ot to be disturbed by partisan dictation or ; actional strife. Besides all this, which may j tly guide you in determining between the two ! andidates, it is my duty to remind you tnat, 9 citizens of the United States, and part of le country, your welfare is indiaaolubly assoiated with that of the whole country. Where 11 are prosperous you will be gainers, Therefore, while iustly careful of your own ights, you cannot be indifferent to the blessigs of good government. It is for you to msider whether the time has not come for , imeihing better than the sword, and whether character like Horace Greeley does not give j ;ronger assurance of good government than an be found in the insulter of the colored ace, already famous for the rings about hilUj' nd his plain inapitude for civil life, Speaking now for mywlf, I have to say that ?y vote will be given for Horace Greeley; ut, in giving it, I do not go to the Democrat! party, nor am I any less a Republican. On the contrary, l am so mucn 01 a xvepuuucuu that I cannot sapport a candidate whose conduct in civil life shows an incapacity to appreciate Republican principles, and whose administration is marked by acts of delinquency, especially towards the colored race; ny the side of which the allegations in the impeachment of Andrew Johnson were technical and trivial. + I The Morality op Cards.?Some of the religious journals have been indulging in arguments relative to gambling, in which ideas no less novel than striking have seen the lights "Can God be glorified, asks the Christian Examiner, of Richmond, Virginia, "or Christ honored and his cause advanced, by such abominable games as smut, euchre, seven-up and old-maid, the very names of which female modesty should blush to pronounce?" Rev. George Harding, editor of the Indianapolis Journal, replies: "We presume not However, there are many worse things that Christians may do than play cards. Seven-up is a scientific game, useful as a discipline of the mind. Whist inculcates the virtue of silence. Euchre teaches principles which may be practically adapted to every-day life; for instance, the folly of attempting to go it alone on a weak hand." This, we presume, settles the question forevermore. and we are curious to learn how Mr. Tremaine feels now. In defending Stokes the other day, he said he loathed a gambler more than he loathed any human being, and that such a man would steal the coins from his dead parents' eyes to gratify his wretched passion. He had no thought then of the soothing influences that seven-up exercises over the mind. He had not learned the virtues of old-maid, or the bliss of coppering the ace. His client coald not have been a devotee to euchre, or he would never have gone it alone on a weak hand. The Christian Examiner has a veryWeak case. Its questions remind us of a sermon delivered against baseball, wherein the preacher asked: "Why play this game? Would a dying sinner play baseball on his death bed ? Then avoid this snare of Satan, my hearers." Touching Devotion.?One of the most tearful cases ever told on paper is this, of a little boy, a mere child, who traveled one thousand four hundred miles, taking care of the body of his dead mother all the way. An expressman, upon reaching the'office early one cold morning in January, observed on the sidewalk a long heavy bbx, which his practiced eye at once identified as containing a corpse. Upon the end of the box, shivering with cold, sat a little half-clad boy about seven or eight years of age. Addressing him kindly, he said: "My lad, don't sit there, you will freeie. Come in and sit by the fire." Bursting into tears, the little fellow replied : "No, I can't oome. My mother is in this box, and I promised her that I would not leave her untii we got home." UaonU QfloptoH urit.li tVip tnnohincr dfivntion of this brave little feilow, he finally succeeded in convincing him of the entire safety of his precious charge, and taking him to a neighboring restaurant, gave him a warm breakfast, and then learned the particulars of his story. His father died about a year previously in a remote village in Minnesota, leaving his mother in poor health and nearly destitute. She died but a few days before the boy's sad journey, charging the little hero with the sad duty of conveying the remains to a distant State, and furnished him with (all she had) a sum of money barely sufficient to carry them both by freight cars to their destination. The little fellow had actually ridden day and night in a freight car with his melancholy trust, never for a moment losing sight of it 4 ? The Art of Making Money?One great cause of the poverty of the present day is the failure of many people to appreciate small things. They say if they cannot save large sums, they will not save anything. They ao not realize how a daily addition, be it ever so small, will make a large pile. If the young men and women of to-day will only begin, and begin now, to save a little from their earnings, and invest it in some savings bank, and weekly or monthly add to their mite, they will wear a happy smile of content and independence when they reach middle life. Not only the pile itself wiH increase, but the ability and desire to increase it will soon grow. Let the clerk and tradesman, laborer and artisan, make now and at once a beginning. Store up some of your force and vigor for future /v\n*in<K>n/?w T.pf nnrenta teach their chil dren to begin early to save. Begin at the foundation head to control the stream of extravagance, and then the work will be easy to choose between poverty and riches. Let our youth go on in the way of extravagance for fifteen years to come, as they have for fifty years past, and we shall have a nation of beggars with a moneyed aristocracy. Let a generation of such as save in small sums be reared, and we shall be free from want Do not be ambitious for extravagant fortunes, but seek that which it is the duty of every man to obtain?independence and a comfortable home. Wealth in sufficient abundanoe is within the reach of all. It can be had by only one process?saving.?New Jersey Mechanic. Young Men, Go to Work !?There is no time to idle now. You must carve out your own forture. You have no inheritance upon which to depend. You must reconstruct your ownfortures by industry, perseverance and toil. Labor is honorable, and the ignoble are those who will not work. Get you a home. Fence a field, and plow and plant it, and gather around you the comforts of a home. And when you have made a character for industry and thrift, ask some young lady to share your home with you. We would say to every young lady, mark those young men who are lounging around, attempting to live by their wits, or ou the interest of their debts; and when they ask you to share the fortunes of life with them, just let them pass on. No young lady can consent to marry a young man without business, or property, or business habits, unless she has made up her mind to sell herself to the lowest bidder. Young men, go to work; while ten men watch for chances, one man makes chances; while ten men wait for something to turn up, one turns up something; so while ten fail, one succeeds, and is called a man of luck, the favorite of fortune There is nn luck : luck and fortune most favor those who are most indifferent to fortune. Young men, go to work, Venom of Toads.?At the risk of increasing the young lady horror of toads, we venture to repeat the story which a British paper brings us. It says that the toad does in reality possess a venom capable of killing certain animals and injuring man. This poison is not, as is generally thought, secreted by the mouth; it is a sort of cutaneous secretion, which acts powerfully if the skin be abraded at the time of contact. Dogs which bite toads soon give howls of pain. Smaller animals coming under the influence of the venom undergo true narcotic poisoning, soon followed by convulsions and death. Experiments show that the matter exuding from the parotid region of the toad becomes poisonous when introduced into the tissues. Some savages in South America use the acid fluid of the cutaneous glands of the toad for their poisoned arrows. The venom exists in a somewhat large quantity on the toad's back. Treated with etner, it dissolves, leaving a residuum, which contains atoxic power sufficiently strong, even after complete dissection, to kill a small bird,