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) % ee wis m. grist, proprietor. | %\\ Inbepcnbent Jfamilo ftefospaper: Jfor tjje ^rcmotioiT of % political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of t|e Soutjr. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 19. YOBKYILLE, S. P., THURSDAY; OCTOBER S3, 1873. NO. 4Q. * ^ - * 11 J ? -?I- ? ?? aa?via *kaf non ^elected ftocttjr. GRANDMOTHER'S WORK. BY MRS. C. E. HEWITT. Up in the garret the grandmother sits. Under the rafters dark and low, Sorting over the laded bits Of woolen, and silk and calico; And the children wonder, as peeping in, They watch the old lady her tusk begin, Why the aged hands so wrinkled and thin, Should tremble and be so slow. Run away, yc careless ones, to your play! Let her muse for a while alone! These faded remnants, once bright and gay, Have a history?every one; And tills Is the reason the grand-dame sighs, And the blinding tears that unbidden rise, She paused to wipe from those faded eyes, Whose weeping, she thought, was done. This silk, whose color she scarce can tell, Laid away with such pride and care. Was the bridal robe?she remembers well? Of her darling so pure and fair. And she hastily folds it out of sight, For she knows'full well, in that land of light, Unfading and spotless, clean and white, Are the garments the ransomed wear. And these tiny shreds of old, soft lace, Which the "years have turned so gray, L.l?rt LofVtnt liorthii Kfihl* tiirp. That within these ruffles lay ! And her heart leaps over the days that remain, Till she clasps in her amis her babe attain, Wliile her withered heart feels a yearning pain For the little one called away. And thus she labors, and thinks and dreams. While memories fast arise, Till the fading light of evening seems Toeorae with swift surprise; ' And the children that night in thcchiiuney nook, Looking up at length froin their picture book, See the folded hands, and the shadowy look Of tears in her kindly eyes. ?fte idle*. A ROMANCE OF GOPHERTON; In 1863 Gopherton was outgrowing its period of placer mining, roughs, vigilantes, gamblers and adventurers of every sort. It was, in fact, fast gaining a reputation for solid business prosperity, good living, piety and handsome women. It had so far progressed in nineteenth century civilization,that it boasted three churches with paid ministers?one extremely "fashionable"?and dispensed entirely with ill-compensated labors of home missionaries. Instead of those unseemly revels which tradition imputed to its earlier days, ladies' lunch parties, church festivals and Sunday school pic-nics were among its most fashionable recreations. The 12th of May had been set apart for j one of these latter. The weather was as bright and sparkling as only California May days can be. Gopherton was all abloom with roses, J fuchsias, geraniums, heliotropes, and the j thousand beautiful shrubs and plants that attain their highest perfection in the quick and j fertile soil of the foot hills. The heights, I which enclosed the little town as in an am- j phitheatre of green terraces, still wore the i freshness of Spring in Jush verdure and gor-1 geous with blooms. Overhead, the sky was one cerulean arch, without cloud or speck. As for temperature, never had a more delightful day dawned on the world since Paradise was forfeited. By eleven o'clock the gay processiou of omnibuses, carriages, wagons and vehicles of j every sort, packed with all that was choice in the way of youth, beauty and provisions, was on its winding way out of town. Along the tortuous road among the hills it rattled, waking the echoes in answer to many a merry shout and song ; halting, at last, about two miles from its point of departure, in a pine grove, where the ground was as nearly level as the ground anywhere about Gopherton was inclined to be?perhaps we should say, disinclined to be, since a disposition to disinclination #as the predominating one in this romantic region, and this particular spot was nearly an exception. As the carriages were speedily emptied of their inmates, Miss Marion Halley stood for a moment in the door of hers, taking in the j scene, and thinking that it was almost a pity | that the holy stillness and perfect beauty and grandeur of the place should be profaned by the riotous merriment of all that miscellaneous crowd. For Miss Halley was a poet in sentiment, albeit she had never strung two rhymes together in her life. It was this poetical sentiment which led her soon apart from the crowd, to a spot where the soft monotone of the nines was uninterruDted bv its boisterous merriment. Her light footfall on the grass ; returned no sound; her blue musliu dress j made no rustle. Only the note of a wild bird, or the chirrup of a squirrel overhead broke in upon the low, pleasant murmur, so like that of the distant sea. Presently a new sound touched her consciousness with a sense of wonder?almost of affright. Wasit the moan of a human voice ? The pine-cone she was examining dropped out * of her hand; her fingers relaxed their hold of the young ferns and wild flowers. Agaiu j that moan! Miss Halley was genuinely ter-1 rified at the thought of what that sound might; mean, and felt at first impelled to flight. But j the heroic in her nature asserted itself on sec- j ond thought, and she determined first to learn j what there was to flee from. Accordingly she i directed her steps slowly in the direction of j the mysterious sound, listening meanwhile for j its recurrence. When she had reached a clump j of raanzanita|bushes,growing on the edge of a j ravine, once more she heard the sound, this : time unmistakably a human voice, and almost; at her feet. Pausing a moment to recover \ courage, she peered beyond the bushes, and j there, right upon the edge of a frightful precipice, discovered, stretched at full length, the form of a man. An instant's observation showed her a welldressed man ; then a further glance, a young > man, and?when she was quite sure he did ; not observe her?a handsome man ; aud last-; ly, that this handsome, well-dressed young stranger was either ill or intoxicated. Now, if there was one vice which Miss Halley hated more than another, it was drunkenness; and she certainly suspected the stranger of being in this Dosition. as the onlv intelligible expla nation of his being in the singular and dan- j gerous position he was unconsciously occupy- j ing. What should she do? She was half minded, since he was drunk, to let him take j his chances and roll over the cliff if he would. But upon further reflection, she concluded that such indifference was hardly humane;! and besides, just then, another grievous moan escaped the brown-bearded lips, finding its way straight to the generous heart under the cool-looking blue musliu, and the matter was decided in favor of philanthropy. Miss Halley first spoke softly to the unconscious man, with the intention of gently arousing him. But finding that her voice had no other effect than to occasion more moaning and increasing restlessness, she next knelt by his side, placing her hand on his brow, which she discovered to be burning; and finally, consulting his pulse, which convinced her that to whatever cause the man's illness might be ow* ing, he was at that moment exceedingly ill and suffering. The situation was embarrassing. Alone she could not rescue him. If she left him, he might move so as to fall down the cliff. The more she looked at and pitied this helpless Adonis, the more the trouble grew; but unfortunately, when her indecision had grown unbearably painful, the voices of some of the Sunday-school children were heard approaching the spot. Miss Halley called to them with all her strength of lung, and happily so as to arrest their attention. That once gained, the youngsters came rushing pell-mell, each more desirous than the others to be first on the ground. "O, Miss Halley!" they all exclaimed in a breath, "we have been looking everywhere for you. Lunch is all ready, and the swings are put up, and the dancing floor is put down ; and O, everything is so nice !" Then, as they I came nearer, and beheld the form of a man stretched on the earth, and unconscious of his position, a sudden awe came over them, causiug them to be very quiet in their movements;' } yet all were curious enough to gather about , i and gaze upon the stranger, while whispers of ; "Who is it ?" "Is he sick?" "How did he come here ?" and similar queries, buzzed about like bees, and stung Miss Halley while j i they buzzed. I For with that singular sense of possession ! which the first perception of anything gives ; to all of us, Miss Halley had already begun j to look upon this poor, unconscious Adam as j belonging to herself by right of discovery, i and here, almost at the moment of her appro| priation of him, she was called upon to abdi- ' : cate in favor of any one who might physically 1 be better able to serve him than his Eve; and , j also to renounce her sovereignty in favor of j the public, who, she felt instinctively, would | never allow her to assert her ownership with-; out making her pay the penalty of slighting * ^A "* " - * h. n + V* I I IIS OpiIllOU. XI was witu a jmug, uniwm?, j that she gave the children their orders, to "Go ! I tell Doctor Blair and some of the other gen- J ! tlemen, that a man is lying very ill, all alone, | ! on the ground ; and she would thank them to j come and see what could be done for him." So, presently, the needed assistance came; i Dr. Blair made a professional examination of | the case, and the stranger was carefully placed j in a wagon and sent to a hotel in town to be treated for congestive fever. Of course, there | was much talk, at thesomewhatdelayed lunch,! about the stranger, and conjectures as to his history ; and Miss Halley listened with well assumed indifference to the comments of the masculine half of the party, most of whom j assumed that there must be something wrong about the antecedents of a man found lying ! under a manzanita bush two miles or more ! from town?"gambler," "highwayman," "fu-! gitive from justice," "dead-broke," and similar j opprobrious epithets being smilingly brought 1 forward to account for the circumstance. Notwithstanding the cool-looking blue inus- I lin and white straw-hat, Miss Halley found , herself growing very warm and uucomforta-1 ble during this conversation. She felt it to be j a sort of imputation upon herself, that she i i had rescued from peril, perhaps from death, a person of so little worth ; inasmuch, too, as ! she felt herself guilty of having adopted this 1 unworthy creature into her most pitying re-1 gard, not to say affection, with so little ques-; tion. Of all the surmises uttered by these 1 uusympathizing people, the one of "deadbroke" was the only one she could tolerate; i and she thanked, from the bottom of her : heart, blunt old Mr. Hodgekiss,when bespoke up at last, after listening to all the gossip going on about the adventure of the day. "A young man?tall?light complected? long, light brown beard?handsome features? i good clothes?wa-al, yes; that's the young j feller that was in my store yesterday, wanting j a situation. Said he was out of money, ami j said he would take 'most anything to do that J he could git. Told him I was sorry, but I j hadn't anything for him to take hold on?not I just yit. Hoped he'd find something; call! around agin. I never thought nothin' more j about the feller, 'cause you know, we have so j; many calls o' this kind?one every day of the I liotro lof l?im rlnnp anmet.hinfr. I uscn.. .i.x.5w? ..?,v ?v,u .. DJ if I'd knowu his case was so pressin'; but we cau't discriminate, we can't discriminate." This, then, was the explanation. He was not a criminal, nor a vagabond ; only unfortunate and ill. She hated those men for be- : ing so suspicious. She would get old Mr. j Hodgekiss to be kind to him. And the bur- i den off her mind, Miss Halley danced and j swung, laughed and sung, as gay as the gayest | all that bright May afternoon ; albeit there i was a smothered sense of anxiety underlying j her gayety, which was as new to her as it was 1 secretly oppressive. She could not say the j day had not been a pleasant one; yet never I had a pleasant day in the woods left her feel- < ing so weary and dejected as this one had j; done. Never had she so nearly owned that : she was "nervous." ! Gophertou was rather glad of the stranger's j illness, because it furnished a topic of talk, i And Gophertou, feeling it had no right to : purchase its "sensations" at so serious a cost j to a fellow creature, was disposed to make ac- j counts even by bcstowiug many kind atten- ; tinne nnnil tlip sufferer A Ounrdinirlv it fell I I -* " ~ " O-J out that, when Mr. Walter Mason hud con- 1 valesced sufficiently^ to realize his position, he i found himself surrounded with every comfort possible, and by a large circle of self-constituted friends and nurses, eager to promote, not only his recovery, but his future prosperity. In this light, therefore, his illness might | be considered a stroke of fortune and a piece ' of diplomacy equally. Among the eatables and drinkables, the flowers and books, furnished for the invalid's nutrition, delectation and amusement, perhaps those contributed by Miss Marion Halley were most seldom ; but as they were also the most choice, and as the story of his rescue by that young lady had been often jestingly repeated : to him, it was but natural that Mr. Mason should strongly desire to make her acquaintance at as early a day as he felt himself pre- j sentable. I Miss Halley was cutting a nosegay of the rarest flowers in her garden one lovely June ! morning, when the light wagon of old Mr. j Hodgekissstopped at the gate, and his hearty ; old voice was heard calling out to her : "Come and look at your boy, Miss Marion, i and see what you think of him now. Don't j look as he did when you found him under a 1 mauzanita-bush, docs he ? Miss Halley, Mr.; Mason ; Mr. Mason, Miss Halley." And so ; they were acquainted. Now Marion had never quite lost her sense ! of ownership ; but she had of late striven wo- j manfully against it, because she saw the romantic folly of caring for a man just because j it has chanced that you have done him a ser-: vice; and although she would not be left out from the number of his friends, she had not1 allowed herself to be at all forward in bring-! ing herself to his notice, as she might so easily have done. Therefore, when Mr. Hodge- i kiss reminded her, never so innocently, of the j flrst feeling she had had about him, the color j rose strong in her cheeks, and her eyes avoided those of "her boy," in a way that made her | indignant with herself, and rather formal with him. ?.AT? T ;?,t torn, ,.^.,.,,1 , nil* lUrtOvti iiiiva x uuvc jucv ug^u luuuvi iv . see your father; and he has promised to take him in the Bank," said Mr. Hodgekiss, after the introduction, in a tone and with a manner ! as if lie were centering a favor upon Marion by giving her such news ; but she only looked surprised, while Mr. Mason answered, smiling: 1 "Mr. Hodgekiss has placed me under last-. ing obligations for two introductions this morning. With Miss Iiallcy's permission, I shall pay my respects to her at the earliest day possible." After which brief interchange . of civilities, he was driven off, richer by the ; picture of a noble, womanly face, and a hand- 1 i fill of choice tlowers from a womanly hand. From being a clerk in the bank, Mr. Mason came to be a member of the family at the Haliey mansion ; a leader of the choir in the "fashionable" church, and its Sunday-school Superintendent. His popularity was unlimited. No social gathering was complete with-; out him ; no undertaking acceptable without j his sanction. Old ladies were motherly with i him ; young ones pulled caps, and set all manj ner of prettily artful little snares for him. In | short, he was in as fair a way of being spoiled ! as any handsome, agreeable and exemplary j young man ever was. But the strangest part of the affair to oh-1 serving eyes, was, that in proportion as young ' Mason grew popular and successful every way, j his cheerfulness seemed to decline. Though j friendly with every one, he was confidential1 with none. Though he must have known j that his addresses would be well received in ! certain influential quarters, he paid court to | none of the beauties of Gopherton. Miss Halley herself?to whom gossip had begun to assign him, because it could not assign him elsewhere?was extremely puzzled by his demeanor. She had "summered and wintered him," and never found any occasion to think otherwise than well of him. She enjoyed his | handsome face opposite her at table, his\ pleasant ways and fine singing. She was 1 forced to confess to herself that "her boy" i (she had almost conquered that romance1 now) was a very delightful person for a friend,: but not in the least what she had imagined a j lover?her lover?must be. She could even j be sorry for him sometimes, he seemed so sad ; and pre-occupied, though she did not know j how he demanded sympathy. Perhaps, after ' all, it was only her imagination. Perhaps he ; was too much at figures. Perhaps he was j homesick. Ah ! who held the strings of his j heart in the old home ? Then Miss Halley j mused again, and declared to herself that she : U..4. i?* i was sorry ior mm, uut uui me icuou niKiutbu , in him ; that is to say, not the least in love j with him. Summer fled ; Winter followed ; and May J came back once more. The Sabbath School ; Superintendent decreed a picnic; and ouce { again, as in previous years, the whole of respectable Gopherton turned out to eat, drink, dance, swing and sing, among the whispering pines. All these things had been done, and thoroughly enjoyed, also when, somehow?she never quite knew how it happened?Miss ! Halley had strayed away, as usual, to quieter ! places, and found herself standing with Mr. Mason, upon the identical spot where she had found him the year before. When she perceived that this was the place, she laughed a little, not seeming to think anything of it, and said, rather saucily: "I found a man under these bushes last year. An odd thing to find, was it not?" "Do you keep what you find, Miss Halley?" asked Mason, quietly, but with a certain intensity of expression in his voice. "That is the children's rule," she answered, smiling; "leastways if no owner can be found. I have not advertised my 'find,' thinking if he had an owner he would return of himself." "And if he had no owner would you keep him? Please answer me candidly, Miss Halley." "Oh ! I don't know, I'm sure. It would depend upon his value, wouldn't it?" "And you do not value me very highly; is that your answer ?" "No; of course, I value you?you know I do. I aui quite certain I have shown it. But in the sense that you put it"?she added, blushing and faltering? "You do not? Miss Halley, I wish, instead of saving my life, you had tumbled me down this cliff. I was unconscious of my misery then. I shall always be conscious of it now." "Why should you be miserable, Mr. Mason ? I have never seen any one with greater chances of happiness." "Because the one thing I covet I can not have. It is the old story. 'The desire of the moth for the star.' " "Ah ! now you are not like 'my boy' whom I tound under these ousnes last year, ne wus j a delightful fellow?cheerful and friendly al-1 ways, and did not waut to be rolled over a 1 cliff. Fie, Mr. Mason ! Let us go away di-i rectly, before something happens to us." Miss Halley was piqued that her lover had snatched at such words as could be construed into a refusal. Again she said to herself: "He is not my ideal of a lover. My lover j must have ardor enough to press his suit; I j will never go half." And still the resolution cost her something. She was disappointed and a little bitter. Why had he spoken at all, if he did not mean to have it made clear ? She was sure she should never accept him. He had surprised her, and hurt her pride ; he was, in fact, altogether odious now. These reflections, very much jumbled to- j gether, were passing through Miss Halley's mind while she beat the ground with her par- j asol, waiting for Mr. Mason to move. Sud- j denly she turned back. He was stauding I dangerously near the brink of the precipice? j so frightfully near that her terror overcame every other consideration. Pale and breath- j less, she stretched out her hand to him. "Come, for God's sake!" "Say 'for my sake,' Marion," he answered,: pale as she. "For my sake, Walter," she almost shrieked, I and then burst into tears, like any silly wo-| man. . In an instant he was at her side, his arms around her. If she had thought him lacking in fervor and the lover's pride and tenacity ; of possession before, she revoked that opinion now. The change was wonderful. He was, ?1-^- A.. i j i 1 ?? ??,i i so eiuie uim. no seemeu iu nan uu an, ?nu bear her along with him. His beauty, which ( had seemed to fade away lately, grew resplen- j dent. Miss Halley, when her eyes were clear again, looked at him in a sort of delighted j wonder. "I have found 'my boy' again," she said, j with an attempt atgayety; "the very same ; that he used to be. Oh ! wonderful boy, nev- J er hide yourself any more." "Hold me close, darling. Never let go my ; hand, or I shall sink again into perdition. I What did I say? Who talks of perdition,! with my soul in paradise? Marion, you will j cling to me always?" "I shall not promise, if you frighten me j again as you did to-day;" said Marion, now j as tiled of her lover's fervor as she had before i been of his coldness. "I shall want to see: how you bear your reverse of fortune." "Did I frighten you into acceptance, Ma-; rion ?" asked he with quick jealousy. "Oh! I knew you wouldn't let yourself i fall," she answered, laughing and blushing, as i she remembered her late resolves. What more was said is not relevant to this j story. All Gophcrton heard the news next ( day of the engagement of Mr. Mason and Ma- j rion Halley, who had been seen walkiug arm in-arm with certain conscious looks upon their ' faces which were easily interpreted. There j were a few who "made remarks," but most people considered it a very good match ; for, j though the money was all on the lady's side, j the beauty, talent, agreeableness, and general j popularity of the two were about equal ; and, J while women acknowledged the fitness of each for the other, men said Air. Halley had so- ; cured the ablest assistant which he could have i in his business, and all agreed that it was a remarkably pleasant arrangement every: way. As for the young couple, they lived through j the summer iu a garden of delights, literally 1 and metaphorically. The rose-arbors of the Halley place could not but have witnessed many charming passages ot romantic passion and tender sentiment; for tiiese two souls were truly as nearly in perfect unison as it ever falls to the lot of souls in the ilesh to be, and ' the more intimate the acquaintance, the more ; they were delighted with each other. With mutual sentiments like these, their marriage 1 would not be long deferred. In fact, it had | been agreed upon that the ceremony should take place by the middle of .September. About the first of the month, when the bri dal trousseau was engaging so much of Mari- j ou's attention that her lover was frequently ; half jealous of the finery, Gophertou had a fresh sensation, the direct cause of which was I the appearance in a San Francisco paper of the following: "Personal.?Walter Mason will please send ' his address to his anxious and devoted Caroline Mason." j Social thunderbolts detonate always direct-: ly in ratio to the size of the communities into : which they fall. All Gopherton was in a state of feverish excitement three hours after the mail was distributed on this fateful morning; ' all of it, except Marion and her little army of seamstresses, among whom she sat, fresh as 1 a rose, her brown eyes full of happy dreams, I and her lovely cheek a tinge more rosy than its wont, toying with some dainty fabric which 1 entered into the composition of that magically interesting thing, a happy bride's wedding- j1 dress. It should be a picture, a poem, a rav- j' ishment, that dress. She wanted to look, 0! j so lovely in his eyes. She longed to please i him beyond anything he had ever imagined i i by her looks on their wedding-day. She meant j1 he should be the happiest husband, as she ; knew she should be the happiest wife in all j < the world. # |' The click of the garden-gate, and the sound 1 of a rapid, well-known tread on the graveled walk broke in upon her dream, pleasantly enough, but with a little surprise; for "her 1 boy," as she still called hiin, in her secret thoughts, and sometimes audibly, beneath the rose-bowers of the garden, was not used to ap- , pear at the house during the business hours of (! the day. Divining that his errand was to her,, ( Marion ran down to meet him, and found him , standing by the great bay-window in the par- j lor with such a look upon his face as she had never seen there before. "Oh! Walter," she cried, with a vague j alarm, her thoughts reverting to her father, ( to a public calamity, to any possibility but < the true one, "something has happened; what j | is it?" 11 "Have they not told you ?" he inquired, i j hoarsely, without moving. j \ "I have not heard anything. If it concerns j ] me, Walter, please tell me at once," said Ma- j ] riou, pausing close beside him, and feeling as : < much wonder as alarm at his strange manner, i j that was not even frieudly. I Savagely, almost, he thrust the paper into < her hand, with the "Personal" strongly mark- , ed, as it had been by some one who had laid , it on the desk at the bank. She read it over | twice, thrice, her color paling slowly, until the horrible meaning at last had reached her j reluctant comprehension. ! ] "What is Caroline Mason to you ?" she J, asked, coldly?oh ! so coldly?as people ask j < and speak who have had all the warmth and j j brightness of life suddenly extinguished from j < theni, yet do not care to own it, preferring to j | "die and make no sign." ! | "Nothing?everything. Oh! God; oh! j | Marion. How much better for us both if you i had let medie! But you brought me back to j life?you made life dear to me?and now?" j He reeled like a drunken man, catching , Marion's hand as he sank into the nearest j seat. She withdrew her fingers from his grasp j and stood looking down into his upturned, ' tortured face as calmly as a statue?really, for | that moment, scarcely with more sentiment. , "Do you hate me, Marion, darling?" he j cnornViinrp VlOP PnlH PVPS I < AOAC>U| UiVlV/ OV/lllJ j 4W(it Vlliug *iv? vvaw vj ? j with the eager tormented soul in his. , "I do not think," she answered, returning I the gaze steadily, "that I either hate or care I for you at all. You are a false man, Walter 1 Mason ; a false coward, whom either to love < or to hate were a condescension. Since you 1 have no further news for me, I will bid you 1 good morning." I When she had thus spoken, she turned to leave the room, with slow, proud steps and a 1 cheek as white as her dainty white morning ' dress. ' "Is that your parting, Marion? Marion, < my love?my love?how can you bear this i dreadful thing? I thought I should have ] killed you, as well as myself; and you do not i even weep ! Oh ! then it is less bitter if you ; do not care." < That last word touched her. His frenzy 1 was not, then, all for himself; he was thinking 1 of her, and bearing her grief as well as his 1 own. With a sudden impulse she yielded to i his detaining hand?for he had followed her? ' and, turning back, sat down beside him, upon < the same tete-a-tete where many happy plans 1 had been discussed between them almost daily I nf lare ' "Tell me all about it, Mr. Mason," she said, j I with evident effort to retain her composure, | ] but with ouly partial success, for the flood- < gates were hard pressed by that touch ofsym- I pathy. I He withdrew from her slightly. He could not bear to make his confession and see her j withdraw from him. With his hand over his | eyes, not to see what her looks might be, and < in a tone of forced steadiness, the recital was j given. The too frequent story of breaking j away from home restraints, of evil associa- i tious in a city, of money squandered upon ( a worthless woman, who, not content with I ] achieving his material ruin, had intimidated j j him?a mere boy?into conferring upon her a ( respectable name, to hide their mutual sins; j of disgust, despair, flight, poverty, illness, I ( and?she knew the rest. Then he sat waiting | to hear the expression of her righteous indig- | nation. I i "You have not yet explained your motive j ( for silence on this subject," said Marion, still ' | coldly,and with downcast eyes. ] "When I recovered from that illness the t past seemed like some horrible dream, which 1 1 could not bear to recall. I hoped never to i hear of her again, now that she had exhaust- i ed all my means of gratifying her luxurious i tastes. I did not doubt she would find other i victims, and trusted that her fears would pre-1 j vent her ever attempting to renew our ac- j quaintauce. I loved you, Marion, and I could i j not bring myself to tell you auythingso re- j pulsive to your purity ; and I repented?oh ! | t so bitterly?that I was not as sinless as your 11 own sweet self. I was a coward, Marion, but, i it was you who made me one. My sin has ( found me out; my punishment is greater than ir I can bear." i I "I thank God, Mr. Mason, that you have ; ] escaped a greater sin, and I?" ! j But here Marion's firmness broke down, I i and only a convulsive movement of the lips j t indicated that she would have spoken. He . ( stretched out his arms with an instinctive de-: 1 sire to shield her from the tempest he had brought upon her; but, with a mighty effort, 1 the weakness of her heart was conquered, and ] oK? ...no n Kin tn oAmmniul wnrdo in vvliinli to 1 ' convey her final farewell, that were neither reproachful nor complaining. ! "Good bye, Mr. Mason," she said. "After what you have told me it is impossible that I | should see you again under this roof. You | will please explain to my father. The sud-' denness of this news makes me feel as if the ' world were slipping out from under my feet." ! With the last word the world was gone from under her feet, and she had fainted. i The gossips of Gophcrton were never very clear about what happened at the Iialley mansion. Mr. Mason's place at the bank was vacant next day, and Dr. Blair's carriage stood at Mr. Halley's gate two hours every j day for two weeks. Every man "found drowned" in the city papers was conjectured to be "that wretched young Mason and sui- j cide by shooting was earnestly sought for in j the public prints. One anxious person went so far as to ride out to the picnic grouuds and , to look for Mason's body under the now cele-! brated cliff, feeling sure that it would hereaf-1 ter be known as The Lover's Leap. But their scrutiny was never rewarded by certain discovery of his fate. 1 Six weeks after the above unhappy denoument a close carriage conveyed Miss Halley away from Gopherton, to Sacramento, it was thought, where she took a steamer for San Francisco and New York. That was in 1864. Only the other day an announcement appeared in a city paper of the death of a child of three years, "daughter of Walter and Marion Mason." Upon this slender thread of circumstances we hang the presumptive evidence of events which probably have transpired; a chance meeting after release from sinful bonds ; love stronger than wrong or time; ft union less joyous, perhaps, than their first youthful dream, but not less tender or true. All this we believe we are warranted in conjecturing ; the more so, as we remember hearing one lady telling another, not long ago, in a street car, that Mrs. Mason had a habit of calling Mr. Mason "my boy," when she addressed whispers aside to him, as she often did, and that he seemed to like the foolish namelet. We truly believe this to be our Walter Mason.? Overland. Monthly. fpswUttwmts gUMitxg* THE BOND RING AND THE LEGISLATURE. That a ring or syndicate has been formed by a number of New York speculators and some of the leading Radical officials of this State, with a view of carrying out another corrupt scheme to Heecc this tax-ridden people, seems now quite apparent. There have been rumors that something of the kind was going on for many months past, aud as time has rolled on, the indications, rather vague Find nebulous at first, have grown clearer aud clearer. We had, as perhaps the first circumstance that gave good ground for suspicion, the mysterious disappearance, at the close of the last session of the Legislature, of the Act to repeal the existing law by which it is made the duty of the Comptroller-General to give notice of the rate per centum of taxes on or before the 15th of November. The actual stealing of an original Act of the Legislature is a high handed and unprecedented outrage; but it was absolutely necessary to the scheme cf the ring that it should be done, and it was lone. There could have been no color of excuse for the recent mandamus, had that Act become law as the Legislature intended. The next move by the riug was the petition for mandamus to compel the Comptroller to ievy the tax to pay the interest due aud to become due upon the five classes of bonds to which the operations of the ring have seemingly been confined. The petition was granted, and the Comptroller commanded to issue ;he order as prayed for. Right here it may be as well to remark that, although in the body of the opinion, the impression is conveyed that only a tax sufficient to meet the interest upon the five bonds specially set forth in the petition is contemplated, yet the crder of the court is in far more general terms, and commands that the writ do issue in the form prayed for in the several petitions. The prayer of the petitioner is that the Comptroller should be compelled to order a levy covering the interest upon all of the bonds of the five several classes named, so that out of 1 amnnnf tho nntitinnpra miorVif. rP. JLI\J gV/UOl UlliUUUV V11V |/V/V>V>VUV*W lUiguw v ;eive what interest may be due upon their particular bonds. Next we find the decision in the case of the South Carolina Society, by which the courts are shorn of all the power Df interference to stay or prevent the collection of any tax which may be imposed, however unjust, unrighteous or illegal it may be. The ring have been very adroit, and have managed with great success up to this point. Ihere is only one power left for them to fight, which is the General Assembly. That body 2an defeat, or not, the schemes of the bond ring, as it chooses. The ring is doubtless re* lying upon buying up the General Assembly, is has been frequently done in the past four fears. There is probably due and to become iue by the 1st of October next, interest upou die 83,500,000 of bonds embraced in the pool, imounting to about 8700,000. The ring can well afford to expend 8100,000 or more of this Interest in securing the desired legislation, rhe expenditure, moreover, can be made withDut any risk to the ring, by making the payments in the coupons of the bonds themselves, ? ? ? ? . it .i. J ;o be redeemed wnen tne tax is coneciea. The legislature will be peculiarly susceptible :o bribery, because the Treasury will be absolutely bare of funds until the taxes begin to 2ome in, about the 1st of December. Everything so far seems favorable to the designs of .he ring. The course of the Legislature will be anxiously watched by the people, and as each memaer acts so shall he be applauded or conderanjd. If that body has an honest desire to defeat the ring and to protect the people, the 3rst act doue will be to repeal the law presenting the interference of the courts in cases )f unlawful taxation; the second will be to evive immediately the Act which was stolen ast wiuter, and which deprived the Comptroller of all power in the levying of taxes. The aarty stands pledged to suspend the payment af all interest upon all bonds as to the legality of which there is the least question. In this category must be placed every bond upon ivhich the ring based their petition for mauJamus. The representatives of the party nust make good their pledges, or else acinowledge themselves as utterly faithless to he people. The Administration professes to ae opposed to the ring and determined to nake au honest adjustment of the debt. Professions are well enough in their place; but ictious speak louder than words, aud by their vorks, and not their promises, will the people udge them. Things are not as they were two or three rears ago, and public officials cannot now, with j mpunity, make barefaced sacrihces of the in-1 .ercsts of the State to their corrupt greed j or gold. The more intelligent and iudustri- j >us of the negro population have been and are I jontinuiug gradually to acquire property. This portion of the colored element will feel I ,he burden of taxation as sensibly as the white j property owners, and it will only require some j glaring act of oppression, like the enforce- j nentof this tax, to bring about a combina- j ,ion which will hurl every thief headlong in j lisgrace from official position in South Caro- j ina.? Charleston News. Blind folded Soldiers?Wonderful j Drill of the San Francisco Cadets.? i fhe San Francisco cadets gave their first j exhibition in this city in the Seventh Regi- j nent Armory, last evening. They are the j juests of the Seventh, and that fact was suffi- j dent of itself to assemble a hall full of spccta-! ors. The cadets numbered ninety-three men, j :ommanded by Captain McDonald and Lieu- j enant Bigley. The drilling squad last evening consisted ; >f twenty files. They entered the large drill- j oom in a column of twos, and after exhibiting j heir proficiency in changing from twos to , *i?KilA a?a iKo mn f/ili onrl Ui'fln 111 tllfi UU1S UllilU Ull blic UiUlV/ll) Uiiu VT vu aw vuv j ict of facing about, their peculiar skill ofj Irilling blind-folded was exhibited. Captain i \IeDouald says that the theory of executing j nanceuvres by rule and not by sight enables j nen to operate as efficiently by night as by j lay. Ilis success in drilling a chosen few un- J ler this theory was pronounced marvelous by 1 he military men who witnessed it. The first peculiar evolution was executing lie manual of arms to the tap of the drum, flic men were drawn up in column of fours, vith wide spaces, and after executing every irder of handling arms?order, carry, sup)ort, right shouldershift, present, arms-n-port, ' loading, aiming, and back to order again?no j variation in the alignment was noticeable. | 1 Blind-fold marching to word of command I ; was exhibited. Starting inclose column of j twos, the alignment was changed to fours, six- j es and eights, then front into line, and back | into close column of twos, with as little vari- j ation as though the men were puppets respon- j ding to the wire. The more difficult wheel- j 1 ings were not executed. Right wheel on cen- j : tre pivot and about-facing, left wheel, in two ; ranks and four ranks, were repeated several1 ; times, and when the command finally halted ! ' in two perfectly dressed ranks, applause was , showered upon them. After more marching evolutions, which j , were executed with precision, bayonets were \ : fixed and the skirmish drill performed. | Bearing in mind the necessity for keeping the J ? ' .1 1__ I spacing accurate in tnis arm, tneir remarsa- j ble proficiency will be seen in the fact, that in the loading and firing on face and back, in single and in four ranks, rallies in twos, fours j ! and eights, there was no bad alignment, no , j mistake. When the command took off their i blind-folds in two ranks, their dress was as | near perfect aa if they had meaeurod ov?ry \ I step of the various evolutions by eye. Their rifles were next exchanged for Springfield muskets with the old-fashioned bayonet, and 1 the bayonet exercises performed blind-fold, j This drill, in its rapid changes, with the grea- j ter variety of positions in which the musket | is held, demands more movement than the skirmish tactics. They were so successful iu 1 the thrusts and parries, guard and lunge, that a stormy encore demanded a repetition, j The closing performance was the skirmish ! drill, with the blindfold removed. The movement of rallying around the flag at hollow square aud in eights, with flanking fours, was introduced for effect, and was executed with wonderful precision.?New York Sun. A LESSON FOR THE BOYS. We have very little respect for the precious youngsters who prefer praying to play- ' iug, who never tear their clothes or rumple their hair. It is the nature of a genuine boy, made of the stuff of which men are made, to roll in the mud, split his breeches at the 1 knees and get a pair of black eyes a month. These are the real boys, who become earnest, serious, plucky men?doing their work in 1 life with what force and strength is in them, i We warrant that the boys and young men, of i whom the Augusta Constitutionalist writes, I always played in play-time, and when worktime comes they grapple their work and do it. This is the story, as told by our contemporary, of what these boys have accomplished: "A widow lady, living not many miles from Augusta, has three sons, aged respectively, nineteen, fourteen and twelve years. All of them atteuded school at the Richmond Academy, and are attentive to their scholastic duties. Every Saturday of last year, by ' . ji i??? ?-*.i. __ ,.:J piougning ana noeiug, wiui uu uuismu uiu, they cultivated a portion of the land around their mother's home. The first boy attended to two acres, the second one acre, and the third a half acre in cotton. The eldest boy made two bags of cotton weighing four hundred and.sixty-seven pounds each. The second boy made one bale weighing four hundred and sixty pounds. The youngest made one hundred and fifty pounds of lint cotton. During last winter they broke two small steers, and, with the assistance of a horse, used in attending school, they hauled from the adjacent woods an abundance of leaves and litter. This material, with four hundred pounds per acre of Dickson's compound, they applied to the poor land they had the use of. The present crop of the eldest boy is three and a half acres of cotton. The two younger boys have the same acreage as last year. The probabilities are that the eldest boy will make three and a half bales; the second boy one five hundred pound bale ; and the youngest lad two hundred and fifty pounds lint cotton. Meanwhile, they have been punctual in their attendance at school, except for a period during the summer, when the younger boys were attacked with measles. At the time of their sickness they hired a hand to do their hoeing. Outside of this inevitable help all of the labor has been done by themselves. During vacation they have been busy picking out their crop, and on Saturdays they complete the gathering." These boys undertook this plantiug scheme of their own free will. They are not obliged to work, but they are industrious by nature, and they have had a teaching under the blue skies and in the open air quite as useful as that received in the Academy rooms. They have paid the greater part of the cost of their education, and they have garnered up habits of thrift and energy which will make them independent, healthy and wealthy men. Louisiana, as well as Georgia, has some model youngsters. One young man, eighteen years old,named Agrippa Gavdon,raised seven bales of cotton and two hundred bushels of corn, which gave him a net profit of $607 39. And A. Norwood, only seventeen years old, : made eighteen bales of cotton, three hundred bushels of corn,one hundred bushels of potatoes *? o ,1 _ i-f.1 _!_! ana a quantity 01 otner vegeiauies, giving i him a net profit of $1,106 86. The land was! rented by young Norwood at ten dollars an acre. Such boys shame many older men, and the record of their work, which is the ktory of their lives, is the right kind of reading to give children. Those who intend to adopt one of the learned professions may find it necessary to remain in school, and at college, until they are twenty or twenty-two years old ; but the young men who have to make their own way, in commerce or in trade, or as farmers, require 1 to be at work several years earlier. A boy can learn by the time he is sixteen all that is absolutely necessary to enable him to hold his own in society, and to push himself on in ' business. Boys and girls take ten years to 1 learn what ought to be taught them in five. Too much coddling and stuffing will spoil J any boy, and make him unfit for any real ' work until the nonsense has been rubbed out 1 of him. The three years from fifteen to eigh- ( teen, are too valuable to be wasted by those 1 whose heads and hands are their only fortune. Charleston Nexvs. What to Do When in Trouijle.?Don't j try to quench your sorrow in rum or narcotics. If you begin this, you must keep right on 1 with it, till it leads you to ruin ; or if you I try to pause, you must add physical pain and | the consciousness of degradation to the sorrow j you seek to escape. Of all the wretched men, I his condition is the most pitiful who, having 1 sought to drown his grief in drink, awakes, \ from his debauch with shattered nerves, aching head and depressed mind, to face the j 1 same trouble again. That which was at first J painful to contemplate will, after drink, seem ] unbearable. Ten to one the fatal drink will j be again and again sought, till its victim sinks j a hopeless, pitiful wreck. [ Work is your true remedy. If misfor-; tune hits you hard, you hit something else ' hard, pitch into something with a will, j There's nothing like good, solid, absorbing,! exhausting work to cure trouble. If you have ; met with losses, you don't want to lie awake j and think about them. You want sleep, calm, sound sleep, and to eat your dinner with appetite. But you can't unless you work. Ifyou' say you don't feel like work, and go loafing all day to tell Dick and Harry the story of your woes, you'll lie awake and keep your wife awake by your tossing, spoil your temper; and your own breakfast the next morning, and begin to-morrow feeling ten times worse j than you do to-day. There are some great troubles that only i time can neai, ana peruups ouuio never be healed at all; but all can be helped by the great panacea, work. Try it if you are afflicted. It is not a patent medicine. It has firoved its efficiency since first Adam and Eve eft behind them with weeping their beautiful Edeu. It is an official remedy. All ^ood physicians in regular standing prescribe it in cases of mental and moral disease. It operates kiudly and well, leaving no disagreeable aequetcb, and we assure you that we have taken a large quantity of it with beneficial effects. Tf will pure more comnlaints than any nos trum in the materia viedica, and comes nearer to be a "cure all" than any drug or compound of drugs in the market. And it will not sicken you if you do not take it sugar coated. Health and Talent.?It is no exaggeration to say that health is a large ingredient in what the world calls talent. A man without it may be a giant in intellect, but his deeds will be the deeds of a dwarf. On the contrary, let him have a quick circulation, a good digestion, the bulk, thews and sinews of a man. and the nlar.rity. iha unthinking onnfidence inspired by these, and, though having but a thimbleful of brains, he will either blunder upon success or set failure at defiance. It is true, especially in this country, that the number of centaurs in every community?of men in whom heroic intellects are allied with bodily constitutions as tough as those of horses?is small; that a man has reason to think himself well off in the lottery of life, if he draw the prize of a healthy stomach without a mind, or the prize of a fine intellect with a crazy stomach. But of the two, a weak mind in a Herculean frame is better than a giant mind in a crazy constitution. A pound of energy, with an ounce of talent, will achieve greater results than a pound of talent with an ounce of energy. The first requisite to success in life, is to be a good animal. In any of the learned professions, a vigorous constitution is equal to at least fifty per cent, more brain. Wit, judgment, imagination, eloquence, all the qualities of the mind, attain thereby a force and spleuder to which they could never approacn wunoui u. jdqi iu tenet t <u a weak body is "like gold in a spent swimmer's pocket." A mechanic may have tools of the sharpest edge and of the highest polish ; but what are these without a vigorous arm and hand ? Of what use is it that your mind has become a vast granary of knowledge, if you have not strength to turn the key? Canine Affection.?In 1863 Capt. , of an artillery company of South Carolina, was killed in a battle iu Virginia. His body was placed in a coffin, and this boxed up and brought to the home of his family, at that time in Columbia. It arrived one week after his death. On its arrival, his dog, that he had petted during his life, was at the front gate, and approaching the house, began to smell about and manifested much excitement. When the coffin was removed from the hearse he ran under it, and followed it into the house betweeu the pall-bearers. Although a week had elapsed since his master's death, and his body was closely encased in the coffin, this dog had recognized him by his sense oi smell alone. When the coffin was laid ou the table in the parlor the dog lay under it, and remained there for eighteen, hours, until the funeral on the next day. Upon the day following it was observed that the dog had not been seen since the interment. Search was made for him, and he was found lying upon his late master's grave, shivering in the cold rain, that had been falling for some hours. He refused to leave his position, and had to be tied and led home, where he was turned loose. In a short time he was again missed, and a servant was sent to tne cemetery, wnere be waB again fouud in the former position. He was carried home and chained up. He now refused either to eat or drink at all, and only lay moaning. Upon the morn-, ing of the third day he was found dead Such an instance of the affection of a dog I have never known surpassed, particularly as this is a fact beyond dispute.? Charleston Letter to N. Y. Journal of Commerce. Uses of Waste Paper.?A writer in one of our exchanges (we have forgotten which) says that few housekeepers are aware of the many uses to which waste paper may be put. After a stove has been blackened, it can be kept looking well for a long time by rubbing it with paper every morning. Kubbing with paper is a much nicer way of keeping the outside of a tea-kettle, coffee-pot or tea-pot bright and clean than the old way of washing it in suds. Kubbing them with paper is inAt* rvrtl IrtVvi r\ rm bninoa on/1 ttiou Luc ucol nay ui puAiaiiiug auitw huu mmware after scouriDg them. If a little soap be held on the paper in rubbing tinware and spoons, they shine like new silver. For polishing mirrors, windows, lamp chimneys, etc., paper is better than dry cloth. Preserves and pickles keep much better if brown paper instead of cloth be tied over the jars Canned fruit is not apt to mold if a piece of writing paper, cut to fit the can, is laid directly upon the fruit. Paper is much better to put under carpet than straw. It is thinner, warmer, and makes less noise when one walks over it. Two thicknesses of paper placed between tho other coverings on a bed are as warm as a quilt. If it is necessary to step upon a chair, always lay a paper upon it, and thus save the paint and woodwork from damage. 4. 4 Keep out of Debt.?Half the perplexity, annoyance and trouble that men have in the world is in consequence of getting into debt. It seems to be natural for some people to buy and incur obligations without measure, so long as they can avoid paying ready cash. Give one of this sort a chance to buy on credit, and the questions of payment are matters that he cares but little about But what a crop of trouble springs up from the seed of debt! How many gray hairs it brings, and how often it shortens life, sometimes leading men to commit suicide or murder. And yet, how easy it is to keep clear of this terrible monster. Every young man should form a fixed and unalterable determination, before commencing bis active business career, not to incur one peuny of indebtedness, under any circumstances. Never buy anything unless you have the money to pay for it at once. Pay no attention to "splendid opportunities," "rare chan" ((knii/tnttiA '' An/i A 1 If A fin/ik o ro An. -co, UiUgniuo, auu bug ^uwu ?tu vuly traps 6et to catch victims. If you see anything that you would like to accept, look first at your money pile and make the answer lepend upon that. Always pay as you go. [f you are short of money, guage your demands accordingly. ? Flowers About the Dead.?If friends would but have the good taste to place a few simple flowers about the departed one, such is he or she was fond of in life, it would be irery fitting, but it is surely not in taste to iverload the coffin with flowers representing in amount of money which would do nuch good to the poor. And then the cus;om of exposing the face of the dead to the ;aze of those making the tour of inspection, which is now almost universal in country ihurches, is to me another very unpleasant Mature of funerals. We often read with iuerest of the burial rites of comparatively unsuown nations, and are surprised and amused with their peculiarities. Would not ours, n their tnrn, present some features as curious, f read by a distant people? If personal Yiends wish to take a last look of a deceased 'riend, it is surely due to them to do so alone, without being gazed at by a crowd.