University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j A" Jnkjjcnknf Jfamilp ftctosjmjicr: Jitr t|t |Jrontotion of t|c political, .Social, Agricultural ani? Commercial Interests of tjjc Soutjr. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 19. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER IS, 1873. NO. 38. - I t ^ Selected ftfctt'w. TRUST IN CiOD AND DO THE RIGHT. BY NORMAN M'LKOD. Courage, brother, do not stumble, Though thy path be dark as night; There's a star to guide the humble? "Trust in God and do the right."' Though the road be long and dreary, And the end bo out of sight; Foot it bravely, strong and weary ? "Trust in God and do the right." Perish "policy" and cunning, Perish all tfiat fears the light; Whether losing, whether winning, "Trust in God and do the right." Shun all form of guilty passions, Fiends can look like angels bright ; Heed no custom, school, or fashion? "Trust in God and do the right." Some will hate thee, some will love thee, Some will flatter, some will slight; Cease from man, and look above thee, "Trust in God and do the right." Simple rule and safest guiding? Inward peace and shining lightStar upon our path abiding? "Trust in God and do the right." From the Overland Monthly. A CALIFORNIA ROMANCE. The coach of Wells, Fargo & Co. stood before the door of Piney woods Station, and Sara Rice, the driver, was drawing on his leraoncolored gloves with an air, for Sara was the pink of stage drivers, from his high white hat to his faultless French boots. Sad will it be when his profession shall have been entirely superseded, and the coach-and-six, with its gracious and grateful whip, shall have been supplanted, on all the principal lines of travel, by the iron horse with its grimy driver and train of thundering carriages. The passengers had taken their seats?the one lady on the box?and Sam Rice stood, chronometer held daintily between thumb and finger, waiting for the second hand to come round the quarter of a minute, while the grooms slipped the last strap of the harness in its buckle. At the expiration of a quarter of a minute, as Sam stuck an unlighted cigar between his lips and took hold of the box to pull himself up to his seat, the good-natured landlady of Pineywoods station called out to him, with some officiousness: "Mr. Rice, don't you want a match ?" "That's just what I've been looking for these ten years," respouded Sam ; and at that instant his eyes were on a level with the lady's on the box, so that he could not help seeing the roguish glint of them, which so far disconcerted the usually self-possessed professor of the whip, that he heard not the landlady's laugh, but gathered up the reins in such a heedless and careless raanuer as to cause Demon, the nigh leader, to go off with a bound that nearly threw the owner of the eyes out of her place. The little flurry gave opportu T-. ,, T? _ .L.. nity lor Mrs. uoiiy rage?uiai was we iuuj o aame?to drop her veil over her face, and for Sam Rice to show his genteel handling of the ribbons, and conquer the unaccountable disturbance of his pulses. Sam had looked at the way-bill not ten minutes before, to ascertain the name of the pretty black-eyed woman seated on his left hand ; and the consciousness of so great a curiosity gratified may have augmented his embarrassment. Certain it is Sam Rice had driven sis j horses, on a ticklish mountain road for four I years, without missing a trip; and had more ! thau once encountered the "road agents," without ever yet delivering them an express j box; had old and young ladies, plain and j beautiful ones, to sit beside him hundreds of j times; yet this was the first time he had con- J suited the way-bill on his own account to find | a lady's name. This one time, too, had a Mrs.! before it, which prefix gave him a pang he j was very unwilling to own. On the other hand, Mrs. Dolly Page was dressed in extremely deep black. Could she be in mourning for Mr. Page ? If Demon had an unusual number of starting fits that afternoon, his driver was not altogether guiltless in the matter ; for what horse, so seusitive as he, would not have felt the magnetism of something wrong behind him ? But as the mocking eyes kept hidden behind a veil, and the rich, musical voice uttered not a word through a whole half hour, which ] seemed an age to Sara, he finally recovered himself so far as to say he believed he could not smoke, after all, and thereupon returned his cigar, still unlighted, to his pocket. "I hope you did not deprive yourself of a luxury on my account," murmured the soft voice. "I guess this dust and sunshine is enough for a lady to staud, without my smoking in her face," returned Sam politely, and glancing at the veil. "Still, I beg you will smoke, if you are accustomed," persisted the cooing voice behind it. But Sara, to his praise be it spoken, re- j fused to add anything to the discomforts of a > summer day's ride across the mountains. His j chivalry had its reward ; for the lady thus fa- j vored, feeling constrained to make some re-j turn for such consideration, began to talk, in a vein that delighted her auditor, about horses, their points and their traits, and lastly about their drivers. "I have always fancied," said Mrs. Dolly Page, "that if I were a man I should take to chncro rtri^inor for n. nrnfession. It seems to me b o r-; a free and manly calling, one that developes some of the best qualities of a man. Of course, it has its drawbacks. One cannot always choose one's society on a stage, and there are temptations to bad habits. Besides there are storms and upsets, and all that sort of thing." I've often thought," continued Mrs Dolly, "that we do not consider enough the hardships of drivers, nor what we owe them." You've read that poem, the Post-boy's Song : "Like a shuttle thrown by the hand of Fate, Forward and back I go.'' "Well, it is just so. They do bring us our letters, full of good and ill news, helping to weave the web of fate for us, yet not to blame for the tidings they bring, and always faithful to their duties, in stormy weather or sunshine." "I shall like my profession better after what you have said of it," answered Sam, giving his whip a whirl to make it touch the off leader's right ear. "I've done my duty mostly, and not complained of the hardships, though once or twice I've been too beat out to get off my box at the end of the drive; but that was in a long spell of bad weather, when the road was just awful, and the rain as cold as snow." "Would you mind letting me hold the lines awhile?" asked the cooing voice, at last. "I've driven a six-in-hand before." Though decidedly startled, and averse to trusting his team to such a pair of hands, Sam was compelled, by the psychic force of the little woman, to yield up the reins. It was with fear and trembling that he watched her handling of them for the first mile; but, as she really seemed to know what she was about, his confidence increased and he watched her with admiration. Her veil was now up, her cheeks glowing. She did not speak often, but, when she did, it was always something niouant and graceful that she uttered. At last, just as the station was in sight, she yielded up the lines with a deep drawn sigh of satisfaction, apologizing for it by saying that her hands, not being used to it, were tired. "I'm not sure," she added, "but I shall take to the box at last as a steady thing." "If you do," responded Sam, gallantly, "I hope you will run 011 my line." "Thanks. I shall ask you for a reference | when I apply for a situation." 1 There wns a halt, a supply of fresh horses, and a prompt, lively start. But the afternoon was intensely hot, and the team soon sobered down. Mrs. Page did not offer again to take the lines. 8he was overwarm and weary, perhaps; quiet and a little sad, at any rate. Mr. Kice was quiet, too, and thoughtful. The passengers inside were asleep. The , coach rattled along at a steady pace, with the 1 dust so deep under the wheels as to still their j rumble. At intervals a freight wagon was ' passed down to one side, at a turnout, or a I rabbit skipped across the road, or a solitary horseman suggested alternately a road agent, or one of James's heroes. Grand views presented themselves of wooded cliffs and wild ravines. Tall pine trees threw lengthening shadows across the open space on the mountain sides. And so the afternoon wore away ; and, when the sun was setting, the passengers alighted for their supper at Lucky JDog?a raining camp pretty well up in the Sierras. ' "We both stop here," said Sara, as he helped the lady down from her high4position ; letting her know by this remark that her destination was known to him. "I ara rather glad of that," she answered j frankly, with a little smile, and considering all that had transpired on that long drive; Sara was certainly pardonable if he felt almost sure that her reason for being glad was | the same as his own. Lucky Dog was one of the shambling, new ' camps, where one street serves for a string on : which two or three dozen ill-assorted tenements ! are strung, every fifth one being a place in; tended for the relief of the universal Ameri can thirst, though the liquids dispensed at those beneficent institution- were observed rather to provoke than to abate the dryness of their patrons. Eating-houses were even ; more frequent than those which dispensed i moisture to parched throats ; so that, taking a cursory view of the windows fronting on the street, the impression was invariably conveyed of an expected rush of famished armies, whose wants this charitable community were only willing to supply, for a sufficient consideration. The houses that were not eating and drinking houses, were hotels, if we except occasional grocery and merchandise es ablishments. Into what out-of-the-way corners inhabitants were stowed it it was impossible to conjecture, until it was discovered that the men lived at j the places already inventoried, and that women abode not at all Lucky Dog?or if there i were any, not more than half a dozen of them, , and they lived in unaccustomed places. The advent of Mrs. Page at the Silver Brick ' " ' - " i ? - A.. notei uaiurany maue a sensation. ?s! semblage of not less than fifty gentlemen of | leisure crowded about the entrance, each more i intent than the other on getting a look at the ' arrivals, and especially at this one arrival? : whose age, looks, name, business, and inten! tions in coming to Lucky Dog, were discussed i with great freedom. Sara Bice was closely ; questioned, but proved reticent and nou-comj mittal. The landlord was besieged with enI quiries?the landlady, too?and all without j anybody being made much the wiser. There was the way-bill, and there was the lady herself; put that and that together, and make ! what you could of it. ! Mrs. Dolly Page did not seem discomposed in the least by the evident interest she inspired. | With her black curls smoothly brushed, her black robes immaculately neat, with a pretty color in her round cheeks, and a quietly absorbed expression in her whole bearing, she endured the contracted gaze of fifty pairs of eyes during the whole dinner, without so much as one awkward movement, or the dropping of a fork or teaspoon. So it was plain that the curious would be compelled to await Mrs. Page's own time for developments. But developments did not seem likely to come overwhelmingly. Mrs. Page made a fast friend of the landlady of the Silver Brick, by i means of little household arts peculiarly her owu, and before a fortnight was gone, had become as indispensable to all the boarders as she was to Mrs. Shaughnessy herself. If she had a history, she kept it carefully from curious ears. Mrs. Shaughnessy was evidently satisfied, and quite challenged criticism of her favorite. Indeed, there was nothing to criticise. It was generally understood that she ; was a widow who had to get on in the world I as best she could, and thus the public sympathy was secured, and an embargo laid upon ' gossip. To be sure, there were certain men in Lucky Dog, of a class which has its representatives everywhere, who regarded all unappropriated women, especially pretty women, very much as the hunter regards game, and , the more difficult the approach, the more ex-1 citing the chase. But these moral Nimrods had not half the chance with self-possessed Mrs. Dolly Page that they would have had ; with a different style of woman. The grosser sort got a sudden conge; and with the more refined sportsmen she coquetted just enough to show them that two could play at a game of "make believe," and then sent them off' with a lofty scorn edifying to behold?to the mingled admiration and amusement of Mrs. Shaughuessy. The only affair which seemed to have a kernel of seriousness in it, was that of Mr. , Samuel Rice. Regularly, when the stage was ; in, on Sam's night, he paid his respects to I Mrs. Page. And Mrs. Page always received him with a graceful friendliness, asking after | the horses, and even sometimes going so far as to accompany him to their stables. On these occasions she never failed to carry several lumps of sugar in her pocket, which she fed to the handsome brutes off her own pink palm, until there was not one of them she could not handle at her will. Thus passed many weeks,until summer was drawing to a close. Two or three times she had gone down to Pineywoods Station and i back, on Sam's coach, and always sat on the ; box, and drove a part of the way, but never i where her driving would excite remarks. It i is superfluous to state that on these occasions there was a happy heart beneath Sam's linen duster, or that the bantering remarks of his brother drivers were borne with smiling equanimity, not to say pride; for Sam was well aware that Mrs. Dolly Page's brunette beau| ty, and his blonde bearded style, together furj nished not an unpleasing tableau of personal charms. Resides, Sam's motto was, "Let those laugh who win and he seemed to himself to be 011 the road to heights of happiness beyond the ken of ordinary mortals?especially ordinary stage-drivers. "I don't calkalate to drive stage more than l o? nr?? i a year ui' iwu iuiijjui, &uiu >711111 lu mio. ? confidentially, on the return from their last j trip together to Piueywoods Station. "I've got a little place down in Amador, and an interest in the Nip-and-Tuck gold mine, besides a few hundred in bank. I've a notion to settle down some day, in a cottage with vines over the porch, with a little woman to tend the llowers in the front garden." As if Sam's heightened color and shining . eyes had not sufficiently pointed this confession of his desires, it chanced that at this moi ment the eyes of both were attracted to a wayside picture: a cottage, a flower-bordered ' walk, a fairy young woman standing at the gate, with a crowing baby in her arms, lifting its little white hands to the sun-browned face of a stalwart young farmer who was smiling proudly on the two. At this sudden apparition of his inmost thoughts, Sam's heart gave a great bound, and tlvere was a simultaneous ringing in his ears. His first instinctive act was to crack his whip so fiercely as to set the leaders ofF prancing ; and when, by the diver! sion, he had partly recovered self-possession, 1 to glance at the face of his companion, a new embarrassment seized him when he discoveret two little rivers of tears running over th crimsoned cheeks. But a coach-box is not i i convenient place for sentiment to display it ; self; and, though the temptation was great t< j inquire into the cause of the tears, with a viev i of offering consolation, Sam prudently lookec the other way, and maintained silence. Tin reader, however, knows that those tears sanl j into the beholder's soul, and caused to gerrni nate countless tender thoughts and emotions ' which were, on some future occasion, to bi laid upon the altar of his devotion to Mrs ! Dolly Page. And none the less that, in i i few minutes, the eyes which shed them resutnet I their roguish brightness, and the lady was to ; tally unconscious of having heard, seen or fel i any embarrassment. Sentiment between then " ? ? 1 __ _ _ _ ..ii was successiuny lavooea, so iur us uueinuui was concerned, for that time. And so San found, somewhat to his disappointment, that i whenever he got upon delicate ground, tin i lady was off like a humming-bird, darting | hither and yon, so that it was impossible to pu a finger upon her, or to get so much as a lool at her brilliant and restless wings. But no j body is ever tired of finding a humming-bir< 'at rest; and so Snm never gave up looking j for the opportune moment of speaking hi : mind. Meanwhile, Lucky Dog Camp was having ! a fresh sensation. An organized band o ' gamblers, robbers and road agents had mad< i a swoop upon its property of various kinds ! and had succeeded in making off with it. Tlx very night after the ride just mentioned, tlx best horses in Sam Rice's team were stolen making it necessary to substitute what San I called a pair of "ornery cayusses." To pui the climax to his misfortunes, the road agent* | attacked him the next morning, when tlx ! "ornery cayusses," becoming unmanageable i Sam was forced to surrender the treasure bos j and the passengers their bullion. The excite tuent in Lucky Dog was intense. A vigilance committee, secretly organized, lay in waiting for the offenders, and, after a week or two made a capture of a well-known sporting man ; whose presence in camp had for some time been regarded with suspicion. That same af j ternoon his gentlemanly person swung dang! ling from a gnarled pine-tree limb, and his | frightened soul had fled into outer darkness. When this event became known to Mrs Dolly Page, she turned ghostly white, anc then fainted dead away. Mrs. Shaughness) : was very much concerned for her friend, be I rating, in round terms, the brutishness 01 people who could talk of such things befon ; a tender-hearted lady like that. To Mr. Rice particularly, she expatiated upon the coarse i ness of certain people, and the refined sensi tiveness of others; and Sam was much inclined to agree with her, so far as her remark* i applied to her friend, who was not yet suffi ' ciently recovered to be visible. Indeed Mrs j Page was not visible for so many days thai j Sam's soul begau to long for her with a might} i longing. At length she made her appearance ! considerably paler and thinner than was hei j wont; but doubly interesting and lovely tc j the eyes of so partial an observer as Sam, whr | would willingly have sheltered her weakness ! in his strong, manly arms. Sam, naturall) enough, would never have hinted at the evenl i which had so distressed her ; but she reliever him of all embarrassment on the subject, b) 1 saying to him almost at once : I "Mr. Rice, I am sorry they have not buriec the man they hung so shockingly. They cer tainly will not leave him there?" she added i with a shudder. "I don't know?I suppose." stammerec Sam, "it is the way with them fellows." ! "But you will not allow it! You cannoi allow it!" she said, excitedly. "I couldu't prevent them," said Sam, quite humbly. "Air. Rice!" and her voice was at once a command and an entreaty, you can and must prevent it! You are not afraid ? 1 will gc : with you, this very night, and will help you Don't say you will not, for I cannot sleef until it is done. I have not slept for a week.' She looked so white and so wild, as she utj tered this* confession, that Sam would have I been the wretch he was not to refuse her. Sc he said : "Don't you fret. I'll bury him, if it trou iblesyouso. But you needn't go along. Yon i couldn't; it's too far, and you're too weak"? seeing how she trembled. "I am not weak, only nervous. I prefer tc 1 go along. But we must be secret, I suppose! Oh !"?with a start that was indeed nervous, "Yes, we must be secret," said Sam ; and he looked as if he did not half like the business but would not refuse. "You are a good man, Mr. Rice, and 1 thank you," and with that Mrs. Dolly Page caught up one of his hands, aud, kissing it heartily, began to cry, as she walked quietly awav. "Don't cry, and don't go away until I have promised to do whatever you ask, if it only makes you well again," said Sam, following her to the door. "Then call for me to take a walk with you to-night. The moou is full, but no one will observe us. They would not think of our going there!"?with another shudder, and she slipped away from his detaining hand. That eveuing Mr. Samuel Rice and Mrs. Page took a walk by moonlight. Laughing gossips commented on it after their fashion, and disagreeable gossips after their fashion, But nobody, they believed, saw where they went, or what they did. Yet those two came back after performing an act of Christian charity, with a sense of guilt and un worthiness very irritating to endure, albeit from very different causes. One, because an unwelcome suspicion had thrust itself into his mind ; and , the other? The ground of Sam's suspicion was a photograph, which, in handling the gambler's body somewhat awkwardly, by reason of its weight?Mrs. Page, at the last, found that she could not render assistance?had slipped from : some receptacle in its clothing. A hasty glance under the full light of the moon had shown him the features of the lady who sal twelve paces away, with her hands over her face. It is not always those thatsiu who suffer most from the consciousness of sin ; and Sam, perhaps, with that hint of possible?nay, almost certain?wickedness in his breast-pocket, was more burdened by the weight of it than many a criminal about to suffer all the terivira r>f flm Iniv fnr rhp woman t.bflt. lift loved stood accused, if not convicted, before his couscience and her own, and he could not con demn, because his heart refused to judge her When the two stood together under the light of the lamp, in the deserted parlor of the Silver Brick Hotel, the long silence which, bj her quick perceptions, had been recognized as accusing her, upon what evidence she did nol yet know, was at length broken by Sam's voice, husky with agitation. "Mrs. Page," said he, assuming an uncon scious dignity of mien and sternness of countenance, "I shall ask you some questions some time, which you may not think quite polite, : And you must answer me, you understand I'm hound to know the truth about this man.'; "About this man !" Then he suspected her of connection with the wretched criminal whose body had only just now been bidder from mocking eyes? How much did he sus pect? IIow much did he knowt Her pah face and frightened eyes seemed to ask these questions of him ; but not a sound escaped hei lips. The imploring look, so strange upon hcj usually bright face, touched all that was ten der in Sam's romantic nature. In anothei moment he would have recalled his demand and trusted her infinitely ; but in that critical ' moment she fainted quite away, to his mingled 1 sorrow and alarm ; and Mrs. Shaugnessy be- a e ing summoned, Sam received a wordy repri-: it i inand for having no more sense than to keep p ' a sick woman up half of the night?smarting -h 3 under which undeserved censure he retired, j t( v to think over the events of the evening. | w 1 The hour of departure from Lucky Dog, I it e for Sam's stage coach, was four o'clock in the tl c! morning, and its driver was not a little sur-; IV! -! prised, when about to mount the box, to dis-! , cover Mrs. Page waiting to take a seat beside i tl 2; him. After the adventure of the previous j ^ i. night, it was with some restraint that he ad- j n, i dressed her; and there was wanting, also, tc I : something of his cheerful alacrity of manner, Jjj . when he requested the stranger who had ta- j w II ken the box seat to yield it up to the lady. ; el i , The stranger's mood seemed congenial, for he i J1 ?, declined to abdicate, intimating that there ^ i was room for the lady between himself and i G ,, | the driver, if she insisted upon an outside seat, j 2! But Mrs. Page did not insist. She whis-1 j! pered to Sam to open the coach door, and | tl t: quietly took a seat inside; and Sara, witn a -c c j sense of irritation very unusual with hira, st - : climbed reluctantly to his place, giving the |-tl I "cayusses" the lash in a way that set them nff i tl ri on a keen run. By (Tie' time he had gotten j ei s his team cooled down, the unusual mood had w l passed, and the longing returned to hear the w r! sweet voice and watch the bright eyes that hi fj had made his happiness on former occasions, oi 31 Puzzled as he was, and pained by the evidence ni , he possessed of her connection, in some way, ai i j with the victim of lynch law, that seemed fc ? like a dream in the clear, sunny air of morn- ? ,1 ing, while the more blissful past asserted its ? i j claim to be considered reality. Not a lark, ^ II warbling its flute notes by the wayside, not a 3 j pretty bit of the familiar landscape, nor a i! glimpse of brook, that leaped sparkling down , I the mountain, but recalled some charming ut: | terance of Mrs. Dolly Page, as he first knew her?as he could not now recognize her in the ; pale, nervous, aud evidently suffering woman, sa r i sitting closely veiled inside the coach. Y , Occupied with these thoughts, Sam felt a &i , disagreeable shock when the outside passen- w s : ger?in a voice that contrasted roughly with lh - that other voice which was murmuring in his ear?began a remark about the mining pros- v< > : pects of Lucky Dog. "Some rich discoveries made in the neigh- L . | borhood, eh ? Did you ever try your luck at tl 1 mining ?" fi r j "Waal, no. I own a little stock, though," ir - answered Sara, carelessly. f "Iu what mine?" ci 31 "In the Nip-and-Tuck." tl: ,: "Good mine, from all I hear about it. Nev- oj -1 er did any prospecting?" asked the stranger. d< -1 in that tone which denotes only a desire to re j make talk, with a view to kill time. 31 "No," in the same tone. g( | "That's odd," stuffing a handfull of cut to. bacco into his mouth. "I'd have sworn 'twas at t you I saw swinging a pick in the canon, east tl ' ; of the camp, last night." ;! "I'm not much on picks," Sam returned, p j with a slowness that well counterfeited indif- pi >! fcrence ; "I was visiting a lady last evening, R >! which is a kind of prospecting more in my ^ 3 line." hi r "Yes, I understand ; that lady, inside the tt t. coach. She's a game one." di 1 j "It strikes me you're devilish free in your a] r remarks," said Sam, becoming irritated again, hi "No offense meant," I'm sure. Take a ci- pj I gar? We may as well talk the matter over sl - calmly, Mr. Rice. You see, it's ten to one C? , that you are implicated in this business, being g}, very attentive to Mrs. Page. Made several I , trips together. Let her handle your horses, v< 1 so she could take them out of the stable for T t; them thieves. Buried her thieving, gambling tl ! husband for her. You see the case looks bad, ; j any way ; though I'm inclined to think you pj j have just been made a fool of. I know she's h< i; a smart one. 'Taint often you find one tc i smarter." >! "Sam's eyes scintillated. He was strongly st . | minded to pitch the outside passenger oft' the 0i >: coach. The struggle in his breast between hi ' conviction and resistance to conviction amount I ed to agony. He could not, in that supreme T > | moment, discriminate between the anger he E >! felt at being falsely accused, and the grief and C? j rage of being so horribly disillusioned. The .! combined anguish paled his cheeks, and set hi i I his teeth on edge; of all of which the outside f0 passenger was coolly cognizant. As they tl ! were, at that moment, in sight of the first sta- th i; tion, he resumed : II "Let her get up here, if she wants to ; I . j can ride inside. I don't want to be hard on j jn : | her ; but mind, if you breathe a word to her j tl: ,! about my being an officer, I'll arrest you ou jn I suspicion. Let every tub stand on. its own 1 CI ' j bottom. If she's guilty, you can't help her, J i! and don't want to, neither; if she's innocent, i tr ; i she'll come out all right, never fear. Are we 1 w . on the square, now ?" ! ht "Have you got a warrant?" asked Sam, in ! ]a i.i 1 J A. I j a Jow tone, as he wound tne lines arounu me te - brake, previous to getting down. ;! "You bet! but I'm in no hurry to serve it. w i Pineywoods Station'll do just as well. Tele- j g( i i graph office there." I ; Mr. Rice was not in any haste that morn- : : ing, being, as he said, ahead of time. He in- j I vited Mrs. Page to take her usual place on | j*11 the box, telling her the gentleman had con- I ,} eluded to go inside; and brought her a glass j ;1 of water from the bar. While he was return- jt0 , ing the glass, the passengers, including the j , j one on the outside, being busied asstiaging , ! their thirst with something stronger than wa- j. !, ter, a rattle of wheels and a clatter of hoofs ; i was heard, and, lo! Mrs. Dolly Page was dis-, II covered to be practicing her favorite accoui- ; W1 ' plishment of driving six-in-hand ! i U1 i j When the "outside passenger" recovered j a I from his momentary surprise, he clapped his 1 m : hand on the shoulder of Mr. Rice, and said, i in a voice savage with spite and disappoint- ' i.ment: J* i "I arrest yon, sir." ; at ! | "Arrest and be blamed !" returned Sam. j . II "If you had done your duty, you'd have ar- ;Je.' , rested her while you had the chance." j ^ I! "That's so?your head is level; and if you j ; will assist me in getting on to Pineywoods ; re Station in time to catch the runaway?for she j Wl cau't very well drive beyond that station, I'll: T , let you off." . j "You'll wait till I'm on, I reckon. My I Pc , horses can't go on that errand, and you darsu't j ?l take up the driver's team. Put that in your j pipe and smoke it, old smarty !"?and Sam's : P? I eyes emitted steel blue lightning, though his j . ' face wore a fixed expression of smiling. 8r Upon iuquiry, it was ascertained that horses \ ?r . might be procured a mile back from the sta; tion ; and, while the baffled officer, and such V? > of the passengers as could not wait until next in ' j day, went in pursuit of them, Sam mounted co s one of the "cavusses." and made what haste he I , t could alter the coach and Wells, Fargo & j11 i G'o.'s express box. Within a mile or less of ; Tineywoods Station he met the keeper, the grooms, and an old man or two, that chanced 611 to have been about the place, all armed to the ! teeth, who, when they saw him, halted in sur, prise. # | ,! "Why, we reckoned you was dead," said j*1 ' the head man, with an air of disappointment. [ "Dead ?" repeated Sam. "Have you seen P? I ^my coach ?" : P3 i * "That's all right, down to the station ; and the plucky gal that druv it told us all about s*' ; the raid the 'road agents' made on you. ai ? Whar's the passenger?any on 'em killed ?" m "Passengers are all right. Where is Mrs. Page?" | "She cried, and tuk on awful about ye ; an': co borrcd a boss to ride on down the road to meet pr , the other stage, an' let'em know what's up." 1 de II "She did, did she?" said Sam, very thought- en 1' fully. "Waal, that is odd. Why, she ran ' Tl way with my team?that's what she did ; and ,'s all a.hoax about the 'road agents.' The assengers are back at the other station." Sam ad suddenly became "all things to all men," > a degree that surprised himself. He was roug about the horse, too, as was proven by s return to its owner four days after. By le same hand came the following letter to [r. Samuel Rice: "Dear Mr. Rick:?It was so good in yon ! J lftnkvou inoro than I can say. I wish I could it myself right in your eyes, for I prize youi iendship dearly?dearly; but I know that I canr>t. It has not 1 teen all my fault. I was married t a had, bad man, when I was only fifteen. He is ruined my life; but now he is dead, and I ced not fear him. I will hereafter live as a good onian should live. The tears run down my leeks as I write you this farewell?as they did tat day when I saw that sweet woman ancl her the at the farm-house gate, and knew what was i vonr thoughts. Heaven send you such a wife, ood-by, dear Mr. Rice, good-by. Dolly Page." There are some men as well as women, in lis world, who could fitrure in the role of - I o Ivangeline, who have tender, loyal and conant hearts. Such a one was the driver of le Lucky Dog stage. But, though he sat on iat hox for two years longer, and scrutinized ;ery dark-eyed, sweet-voiced lady passenger ho rode in his coach during that time, often ith an intense longing for a sight of the face b craved?it never came. Out of the heaven ? his life that star had vanished forever, and Dthiugwas left hira but a soiled photograph, id a tear-stained letter, worn with frequent ldiug and unfolding. jpswHauMuis fUadiui}. From the N. Y. Evening Post. A HIDDEN TREASURE. WHAT THE BRITISH LEFT IN HELL GATE. For ninety-six years there has lain upon the .ndy bed of the East River, close to the New ork shore, and against a lofty cliff of stone, ound which the currents of water sweep ith prodigious force, the wreck of au Engsh frigate. Her name is the Hussar. She was a corBtte mounting thirty-two guns, and was ful armed and equipped. She was sent from ngland to bear treasure to the paymasters of le English soldiers in this country, and in her in she had 580,000 guineas packed in strong on boxes. Lord Howe was then in possession of this ty, and Washington, at about the time of le arrival of the Hussar, was about to begin aerations against it. It was, therefore, >p.med inexDedient for the treasure-ship to imain in the harbor, for fear that, if the city 11 into the hands of the rebels, she and her )ld might share the same fate. She, therefore, received orders to proceed ; once to'New London, Conn., which was ten a rendezvous for the British naval forces. TIIE WRECK. Having taken aboard nearly one hundred risouers and more gold at New Loudon, the [ussar, on the 25th of November, 1780, set til from New York for her destination. She id all her canvass set, and she started up trough Hell Gate, whose terrors in those ays were much more formidable than they e now. She had for a pilot a negro who new every rock, current and shoal. He rofessed his ability to take even so large a tip through the narrow strait; but he rnistlculated either her wieldiness or his own till. When midway in her passage she struck 2ry heavily upon the dangerous Pot Kock. he currents and her sails hurled her upon ie jagged obstacle with incalculable force. The tide began to rush in. She was borne ist the spot, and her sails were set to carry er upon what seemed to be a shoaling spot the northward, a mile distant. She was run up to the shore, head on. She ruck savagely and held. Hawsers were run it and thrown around large trees with the Dpe that they would hold her to the spot. But meanwhile the tide was filling her. he lower deck was flooded almost instantly, ivery one of the ninety prisoners were suffon4 nnfonf ItCll at tuc Tti J UUtouvi Their struggles, bound a3 they were, must ive been something beyond comprehension r fierceness and violence. From their posion they mu3t have known of the danger to ie vessel and of their certain fate at the very iginning. The swift inroad of the surging tide, roarig with its own force, doubtless overwhelmed lem like a cataract, and subdued the strainig and shrieking group in a brief, but indes ibable moment. The Hussar sank with all her guns, stores, ensures and prisoners, in ninety feet of water, ith her bows pointing toward the west. . All jr officers and crew escaped to a man. Some dy passengers who were on board were gotn off first and landed without disaster. In this way, then, does it come about that ithiu six miles of the City Hall is a mine of >ld. EFFORTS TO RECOVER THE GOLD. The British government of course lost little me in endeavoring to raise the sunken vessel, it the war came to a close, and their forces ere obliged to retire from the country and abandon the Hussar's guineas as well as the her treasures that they had esteemed their vn. Even after peace was declared, the English, iiug naturally unwilling to quit such a propty, sent out a regular expedition furnished ith all appurtenances, and its officers built ion the shores of the land nearest the wreck small hut of logs and stones which still reains and which is now inhabited by a fishman. Stories are told of great scenes of astingand revel that took place in that range spot, and a capacious wine cellar (now :graded to the use of hens) is still to be seen. The government of the United States obcted to the presence of the wrecking expetion of a foreign country in our waters, ccordingly the brig and all her crew were called by the home power, and the Hussar as thus left for American money hunters to larrel over. There at once arose a strife for the exclusive irraission to dig and delve after the million tineas. In the course of a few years several commies essayed the task of securing the prize, it in every case the work proved too expense, and as there was so much that was i 1 * ,L- ?i' apniC ana picturesque uuuul uie wuuic uiir, that there was a general antipathy to inisting money in what appeared to be a roance. One company endeavored to build a iffor-daui entirely about the wreck hoping to ut out the river and then to pump the dam y, and thus bring the sunken vessel to light; it after expending $50,000 they gave it up. nother, and in fact almost all the others, ideavored to raise the hulk entire, but it was thoroughly water sodden that it was too :avy and decayed. Another company did a ore sensible thing ; it blew away the entire ilk of the frigate, and left nothing but her >ttom timbers; but sand and mud had so tcked about her that they had made a solid rramid of the debris, and, after striving a bile against all sorts of untoward circumiinces, this compauy also gave up the fight id retired to make room for another and a ore energetic one. TIIE FRESENT OPERATIONS. This band of adventurers organized a stock mpany under a charter in due form, and ofiting by the hard experience of their prescessors, set to work, and are at this moment gaged upon their strange and exciting task, nose who pnss up the Sound will notice just I abreast of Flushing Bay, and not far to north-1 ti s east the ancient homestead of Gouverneur a i! Morris, a flat-decked sloop, anchored a short si ' I distance from the shore. She is a fixture, j ii i She is always there, and she is directly over h i the wreck of the Hussar. On the land close j tl I beside her may be seen the old stone house, o i: but that has been described, aud one is shown b two great cavities in the earth from where, it b is alleged, the trees, roots were pulled almost1 I j a century ago, when the gored ship was strug-! gling for life. I j | From this sloop there goes dowu once, and | II oftentimes twice a day, a diver clad in armor 1 * of rubber, lead aud copper. j The common depth in which a man so en- i i cumbered can work to advantage is fifty feet. ! * rr>> t tl - d J nis man goes aown nmeiy. iuc vurrau m j water is so fierce that he can only visit the . b : scene of his labors on slack tide, and even , 0 j that one visit is only of an hour's duration. ! ? This man hopes to fin^Xhe treasure, to place i " ' chains securely about it, and then to have it j ^ hoisted up from above. By various descrip- i ? " i tions, and from their own discoveries, the dig*' * , gers have fixed upon a spot where the gold 1 P I should be, and the diver is, with his shovel j j andpick, slowly approaching this spot. The i P j treasure will be discovered in the form of a n ' great number of boxes, doubtless corroded and 8 amalgamated by the action of the water into 1 I a solid mqss. 8' The scene beneath the water is described as * being awful. It is nearly dark, and the re- * mains of the vessel lie in the shadow of the , overhanging cliff. 8 There are heaps of black timbers, the ends I of which jut out from the banks of the drifted f ; sand. Here and there is the stump of a huge ll rib projecting from the bed of the river, and r( j the glimmers from above fall upon the silent 0 j and motionles place with an efTect that is ter- vv i rifying. The diver hopes almost as each day t( j goes by to conquer his final difficulties and to | j seize upon what the water and the sand have . retained so long. I 11 He has sent up in a bucket a large number j w 1 of relics of the ship and her crew, and there ! ^ i is a stone house not far from the spot in which b are heaps of articles thus secured. " ! One sees leather buckets upon which the s' i ?a (itj.o*;m Vio tro/>ocl bonne nf i : nuiu JLIuooai uuaj cwm ww nwwu f v. . j twelve-pound cannon balls corroded out of; ! shape and into little else but rust; a number j | of shackles and chains; a ship's bell marked j eI with the initials G. R., and the fleur-de-lis. | In a champagne basket are a large number of J* 'j human boues and skulls. The floor is strewn ! fj | with belts, cartridge boxes, pieces of broken ' I muskets, and with a thousand things that are , commonly used on shipboard. The writer j has seen a number of coins which have been raised from this strange depth ; notably one lump of silver money as large as an egg, upon ^ which was stuck in various positions a number u of golden guineas with their imprints half ef- M aced by the action of the sea. These were doubt- a less the possessions of some of the officers, who j( left them behind in their haste. A lady's ^ casket filled with jewels was brought up three years ago, but it was stolen and has not been jj recovered. u If the present company succeeds in getting the treasure, as it deserves to do, each member t| of it need have no more fears for his liveli- n hood. It is anxious work. A single day's labor may now make each one a man or a ^ woman of great wealth, and on the contrary jj a day's work may expose the fact that more ^ months of labor and expenditure must pass over before the prize may be reached, if it c ever shall be. A BATTLE IN THE AIR. f "A most terrific battle between two birds," I ! says the Virginia (Nev.) Montanian of the a 14th ult., "occurred between two large brown jj ; eagles iu the vicinity of the lakes above Vir- 8 ginia on last Wednesday evening. When e i first noticed, the birds were soaring, one above g the other, at au altitude of perhaps three- d i fourths of a mile, and seemed on a sail for fc pleasure. Presently the uppermost bird, clos- j] ! ing its broad wings, shot downward like a t meteor for two or three hundred feet, and d with a wild, piercing scream, lit fairly upon a the back of the other bird. Turning with the fi , rapidity of lightning the victim elutched its a adversary with talons and beak, and a fierce j b I struggle ensued. The savage yells, the stri- g ; king of huge wings, and showers of falling h feathers, gave unmistakable evidence of the ei ferocity with which the contest was waged. "As they fought they fell earthwards, and, when within five hundred feet of the ground, g ! they became disentagled, and each swooped a upwards again. Now followed an interesting w I trial as to which should first gain a sufficient ei alitude to make another plunge. The circling of the smaller was rapid and close, while that t< of his antagonist was made with greater limits, tl and his ascension was quickest accomplished. Ji ! The larger eagle was soon fully one-half mile it ! high, and some hundreds of feet above his C victim. Hovering in mid-air for a moment, ji 'J as if making sure of his aim, he again darted it down upou his enemy, strikiug him as before w with a force that seemed sufficient to kill of h ! itself. Again they grappled and fought like a; ; winged demons?whirling, falling and stri- T i king furiously for the space of two or three oi i minutes. They were now near the largest of b ! the lakes, and gradually descending to the u water. The struggles of the smaller became j less and less fierce; he was getting weak, and k was evidently nearly vanquished, while his p more powerful aggressor seemed to wage the I battle with increased vigor. ft "Another moment and the conquering mon- V arch loosed his hold, and with an exultant 01 shout of victory soared upward. The battle rc was ended ; his prisoner, limp and lifeless, fell w | into the waters of the lake with a splash and hi j floated on the surface without a struggle. We fc ; with our companion tried to get the dead ea- ai i gle, but were unable to do so without swim- m J ming for it. Both birds were of very large y< I size, the larger measuring we think fully g( j twelve feet from tip to tip. The spectacle hi was exciting in the extreme, and the victory G tragically complete. The battle had likely m commenced before we discovered thera, as it tv j does not.seem possible for one to kill the other ? I in so short a time, although the fighting was i terrific." ? a How an Old Lady Turned the Tables hi | on Two Robbers.?The Opelousas (La.) vi ; Journal, of the loth, is responsible forthefol- of I lowing, b< i Down in the parish of St. Martin, an old L | widow, whose children had all married off and ai l left her alone, had been persuaded to sell her b; I little place and live with them. She sold her fu ! land, buildings and improvements one day for tli , $2,000, and received the money in cash on the n< I snot, in her own house, where the act of sale oc I was passed before two witnesses, the number i iu | required by law, and who witnessed also the j se j paying of the money. . i hi In a short time she was to give possession, J hi but she remained iu the house the night fol-1 si< | lowing sale, all alone, as was her custom. k< i That night two negro burglars broke into the wi j house and demanded her money or her life. I She gave it to them, but begged them to let f her have $100 of it, as she owed that amount, th and wanted to pay the debt, when she would wl be satisfied. They finally consented to let her 1 keep the hundred dollars. They then order- so ed her to make some coffee for them to drink, lii i In doing so, she bethought herself of some in strychnine she had in the house, and quietly de ; dropped it in the pot of steaming coffee, and d< ; placed it ou the table with cups, spoons and w< sugar for them to pour out aud sweeten to pi their taste. This they did and drank in a "1 jolly mood, each one having $950 in his pock- ai ' et. But in a few minutes the tables were fu urned: One gave up the ghost where he sat t the table in his chair, and the other got up, taggered off a few feet, and tumbled over ito eternity. The good old lady recovered er money, and on examining the persons of lie black, burglarious robbers, they turned ut to be the two witnesses to the act of sale, oth white men, blackened for the occasion? oth her neighbors, and one was her cousin. A Drunk en Doctor.?We take the folDwing from the Washington Capital: We had a drunken doctor by the name of odd, who, from his habits, was known as ' " TT "J A ~e mAof oaay. ne was cuiisiueicu uuc ui wc must jccessful practitioners of our county site, 'eople said old Todd was a wonder, and the runker he grew the wider and deeper spread is reputation. Thi9 is common in other walks f life. "We have known lawyers, authors nd artists to add to their reputation by being ltoxicated most of the time. People said, 3ow wonderful he would be if he were sober.' 'he fact is, the only wonder was in the liquor, lad the man been a sober man he would robably have escaped notice. Old Todd was called in, or rather he was icked pp druirtc ye ther tavenr one night, ai? lost insensible, to prescribe for a man in the reatest agony. The doctor staggered into ae room and fell upon the floor. He was iiaken up and a diagnosis roared into his ear. ill that could be got from him was the one rord, 'coffee.' A pot was hurriedly put upon ae Are, and as soon as it could be made as trong as holy writ, a pint was poured into lie patient, who only roared the louder, igaiu the doctor was appealed to, and again e muttered 'coffee.' The zealous friends and Natives immediately forced down the throat f the sufferer another dose. A third attempt as being made, when the doctor staggered ) the bedside, and seizing the cup drained ae liquid himself. lie then rolled out to the pump, and putng his medical head under the spout had ater pumped over it for some minutes. Afl ir this he returned, somewhat sobered, to the edside of his patient, felt his pulse, looked at is tongue, and poked the poor fellow in the ;omach. "How're ye, man ?" "Oh! I'm better; the coffee did it." A merry twinkle shot from the inflamed yes of the intoxicated practitioner, but he lid nothing then. Subsequently he let the ike out to a brother physician. "I wanted iat coffee myself, to sober me up. D d ' they didn't give it to the fellow in colic; it ured him though." And the doctors merrij ehnnkled. The Good and Bad Boy.?There was a oung and lovely boy, whose mother parted is hair down the middle, and occasionally it him in the back with a flat-iron. There ras also a bad, wicked and depraved boy, bout whom, I, at the moment, do not recol2Ct any further particulars. These two were rought up together, and simultaneously reeived a present of a sovereign apiece. 0, ow that bad, wicked and depraved boy kicked p his heels! The good boy smiled the while araphically and slobbered. The bad boy ben went straightway and laid out bis good. louey in all manner and kinds of nasty and idigestible messes?hardbake, cocoanut (he ought fourteen of these,) bulls' eyes, stick quorice, tamarinds and Austrian beef. The oy fell to and gorged hideously upon these bings, and so exhausted his little capital, omiDg to the good boy when it was all gone rith a long and pitiful face. "Ah 1" said the ood boy, "had you not spent your sovereign hus foolishly, you would have had it now as have mine. Instead of buying hardbake? , thing I myself never touch, except when it 3 given to me?you might have bestowed five hillings upon the society for supplying wood* n-legged infidels with worsted slippers. Iutead of buying cocoanuts, you might have Iropped another five bob into the donation ox of the hospital for paralyzed shakers, and nstcad of wasting the other ten shillings in he way you have, you might have done I on't know what that was good, and kind, nd generous and noble." The bad boy, conused and confounded, turned away his head t this, and wept bitter tears. Then the good oy went out for a stroll, feeling ever so much ooder for having said what he had, and on is way accidentally dropped his own sover* ign down a sewer grating. John Guy and General Cass.?In years one by there dwelt in vv asnington, jonn uuy, character in his way, in connection with hom Colonel Forney tells the following ancdote: Guy kept the National Hotel in Washingin, and among his guests was General Cass, len Senator from Michigan. Guy dressed ke Cass, and although not as portly, his face, lcluding the wart, was strangely similar. >ne day a western friend of the house came 1 after a long ride, dusty and tired, and, walklg up to the office, encountered General Cass, ho was quietly standing there. Mistaking im for Guy, he slapped him on the shoulder, nd exclaimed, "Well, old fellow, here I am ! he last time I hung my hat up in your shanty ne of your clerks sent me to the fourth story ; ut now th^t I have got hold of you, I insist pou a lower room." The general, a most dignified personage, taen aback by this startling salute, coolly relied, "You have committed a mistake, sir. am not Mr. Guy; I am General Cass, of lichigan," and angrily turned away. The Western man was shocked at the unconscious itrage he had committed; but before he had icovered from his mortification General Cass, ho had passed around the ofice, confronted im again, when, a second time mistaking him >r Guy, he faced him and said, "Here you re at last! I have just made a devil of a istake ; I met old Cass, and took him for du, and I am afraid the Michigander has me off mad." What General Cass would ave said may well be imagined, if the real uy had not approached and rescued the inDcent offender from the twice-assailed and itI/i/i Oim/irar) otofoiman ? VAiitYr'sk TirMMT. ill I JWfftUggj tV4 UVUtVUIUUU. ? ? -"-w ; (arper's Magazine for September. 4^-4 An Unspotted Character.?Money is good thing, especially in these hard times, Jt there is something a thousand fold more iluable. It is character?the consciousness 'a pure and honorable life. This it should ) a man's firm aim to preserve at any cost. 1 times of commercial distress, while some e found wanting, others come forth tried as j fire. Here and there comes one out of the irnuce far more of a man than before. Amid ie wreck of his fortune he stands erect?a jblc specimen of true manhood. We have icasioiially witnessed an example of courage such a crisis of moral intrepidity, that derves all houor. Let it be the aim of every isiuess man above all things else, to keep s purity unstained. This is his best posses[>u?this is a capital which can never be tarn from him?this is the richest inheritance hich he can leave his children. 4-^-4 IQJP One of our exchanges thus reasons with e man who don't take the papers?except hen he takes thera from his neighbors: Now tell you, squire, the day will come when mebody will write a long eulogy, on your fe, character, etc., aud the printer will put it type, with a heavy black rule over and un;r it, aud with all your riches this will be )ne for you as a pauper. Your liberalities, ealth and all such will be spoken of, but the -inter as he arrauges the type, will remark: ?oor, mean devil, he never took the paper, id is now swindling the printer out of hia ncral notice."