Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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% Salt of gm\ ana ?nln foot. "MEMORY BELLS." SI Voices from the distance call me, soft and low, Mournful voices, ever chanting, 'long ugo.' " Through the dim vista Of by-gone years come stealing faintly the fairy ?himes of Memory Bells. Gentle, mourn - fill, Memory Bells! how dreamily ye are pfrrS&sd to my charmed ear, waking deep thoughts of fluted years within my heart, and opening, with magic hand, the misty $>Drtals of the past, thus revealing to my fcager gaze the light and shadows of "long ago." Oh! how dark were the shadows, hang? ing so gloomily o'er my young pathway, Ukc boding clouds o'er a summer sky, and nearly crushing the spirit too proud to ifcvecd its internal woo to the careless world. Oh, no! even in the darkest hour, when my faithful monitor, "bright winged hope," had deserted me, and de? spair, in all her gloomy array, was pro? wling over my bleeding heart, even then I moved with a careless smile, and a proud gay light in my eye, convincing the world that I was indeed as happy and \ as joyous as I seemed. Accomplished and bcautifid. and sur- \ rounded by every luxury that wealth i could procure, it was not strange that I ?houkl advance to girlhood, knowing no will but my own, aud making no ellbrt to subdue the wayward, passionate, though j fondly trusting heart, or quenching the < burning fire, even for the sake of that fondly loved one?noble, manly Clarence Dalford. Oh! how beautiful he was; and, to me, so far superior to the gilded butterflies among whom he moved with a peculiar grace?so easy to him, and so rarely attained. Handsome, taleutedand wealthy, he was flattered and caressed by all; and many a girlish heart beat faster at his approach, while flushes over? spread fair round cheeks at his winning tfJStiie. But to me that smile was more than all else on earth; it cheered and soothed me as a ministering an go] gopthes a suffering child. My hearl bowed down tt> him. and lay panting at his feet, Joug $ng to be taken to the manly heart; ami S?0?r proudly and joyously boat that heart ?rhen those soft, dark. betiiitjfijl eyes looked into mine ojrn, and that musical voice told me that I was dear-er to him iljau aught else on e;jrj.h. f And then followed day* of oh,' gucij de? licious joy and happiness, when, earth was %Q fi?e "a dream of bright-hucd flowery;" ftnd then came the scorn and passion? Jhe cniel, cruel words, the coM farewejl? all these! And now they are brought back to me on those softly-pcujingchjines. and a remembrance of the Jon^-ca.r.ucgt, agonizing gaze from those beautiful eyes, and the tremulous voice murniuriijg : "I have loved you. Aijjja, Heaven knows how well; but, after (Lo^P words, I can no longer remain t?ne to nry en? gagement; farewell S" And when he had gone?whim I hgd pondered upon the words I had uttered., then ''The dusk grew round me, and my heart 'Wore still a duskier aspect." I had forfeited love, esteem. everything for a passion that had spent its whole forco upon him, who had never, never wronged me, but who had only endeavor? ed to subdue the haughty, wayward spir? it that would not be controlled. * * * * * * ?'Anothersweet head on his bosom now claims a i .rightful rest; The curls arc wavy and golden, aud the eyes like a | violet's breast." "Our home is looking very beautiful now, Cousin Anna; will you come and make the promised visit in preference to , !N?jypprt and Saratoga ?" Thus wrote my Cousin Julia from her j western home; and, three days later, I was with her, wandering through the lovely little village, conversing gaily of "ajjld lang syne," and not noticing the de? parting twilight until the sound of loud laughter and boisterous voices warned us J<? rotrace our footsteps, for twilight had already deepened into night. "It is somo intoxicated men from the village tavern, Anna," whispered Julia; ?fjye will stop in here until they pass;" and opening a small gate of fancy iron? work, sho ushered me into an elegant garden, delicious with the odor of vase ^xbtic plants. And up through the flow? ering shrubbery bright lights were gleam? ing, while a sweet, plaintive air was waft? ed out through the low, open windows, filling mc with a strange curiosity to be? hold the inmates of the princely man? sion. Julia was still at the gate, and noisc Jessly I passed up tho marble pavement andpaused at the open windows, gazing j in'upon a scene which caused my heart to cease for a moment its throbbings, and almost to quench the tide of life- There, upon a low 6ilken couch, was Clarence Dalford, with one arm fondly encircling a girlish figure kneeling upon the rich carpet beside him, and his white hand swept away silken sunny curls from a snowy brow, while his proud lips touch? ed a crimsoned cheek often, and lovingly Ids dark eyes rested upon the beautiful one. And she! ah! she was wondrously beautiful, with the golden curls, and eyes of such a pure, beautiful blue that I al? most fancied they had been cut from the blue dome above me. And then those fairy dimpled hands, so fondly lying up? on the brow that I had so often passion? ately kiased; and the lips were like dewy ! rosebuds, from which that low sweet melody was gushing. And this, then, wa? his chosen bride; and, in his deep, fond love for this wor? thier one, he had, no doubt, forgotten me; while I was dreaming, ever sadly dreaming of him?and his name was breathed each evening in my prayers. -Anna, Anna! where are yon ?" called Julia, and startled, and awakened from j my revcry, I joined her, saying careless? ly': Who resides here. Julia ?" "Mr. Dalford," she replied; ??the wealthiest man in the village; and oh ! Anna, so handsome." " Yes, I saw him while in the garden." I replied, smiling at her girlish enthusi? asm; -and also a golden-haired, blue eyed lady." "That is the mistress of the mansion," she interrupted; "and jusi the sweetest darling that ever breathed. Mr. Dalford nearly idolizes her?and I do not blame him cither, for there never was a better oi-a myre beautiful one than sweet Min? nie Dalford." Oh ! how those words to>'c anew my Weeding heart! She had removed the hurt doubt io my mind?and the bright being I had beheld W<1? Ms bride ?' And the gjoom deepened and darkened around me, and hovering over niy bowed spirit were Glindow*} sad and gloomy, wrapping my heart in agonizing darkness and des? pair; but through them all I bore the s^Uie proud and seemingly happy spirit, and mgved amid the jovoys ones, who thrpnged Cousin Julia's beautiful home, "the g*y<3St of the gny;" and none ever knew of the dark unrest and grief-laden heart beating beneath the proud, bnllaint cxterjor. ****** "3fyown?my darling!" Thtfne were the words tha.t greeted my awakening thoughts as I regained my eonjcjoijQness. from that frightful fall. 1 could UUt dis? tinctly recall the exact circumstances, on? ly li V???P remembrance gf a .gay pic nie.?a challenge to nice on horseback?a, frightened, fiery steed, and then a dizzy, pajniul shpek ; and that was. all I knew until I found myself in that loved em? brace, with his dear voice hi u runup jug those fgiid words in my ear. And oh ! howl lodged to die then aud. there. But thoughts of the, blue-eyed bride entered my heart, and almost haughtily I cx ejjjjmcd : * Mr.' Dalferd, this is?" But at th:jt moment the door opened sofljy, and the golden head peeped in. and '?he sweet voice said: "Is she better, brother Clare ?" Brother! what did she mean? I w^s confused aud puzzled, and a lujppy thought, and a hope that I had been mis? taken, was breaking through the myste? ry : and the hope was confirmed the next moment when he presented me to his on? ly sister $nd relative. Minnie Dalford. And I weeping like a weary child, told thom all; and once more I was takuu to the loved embrace, and forgiveness grant? ed, with the fond assurance that through all the weary years jio other one but Min? nie had held sway over the noble heart but myself. And to-night he is reclining on the same silken couch, but it is :iyt Minnie's hand that brushes away the jetty curls; she has another manly one to love. And through the parted curtains comethesad ly beautiful chimes of Memory Bells, causing happy, joyous tears, and lifting my heart to God the Giver of ail things, thanking Him for subduing the haughty heart, and guiding me to the safe shelter of a husband's love, for dispelling the shad? ows, and lending bright, glorious lights to guide me to eternity Cousin Addik. -. - Cream cannot rise through a great depth of milk. If, therefore, milk is desired to retain its cream for a time, it should be put into a deep narrow dish; and if desired to free it of cream, pour jtinto a broad flat dish, one inch in depth. -^ Rats?It is said may bo expelled from your cellars and grainaries simply by scat? tering a few stalks anc-, leave* of rqullon in their paths. jSnitkg ^cabing. For the Intelligencer. IiOttcrof a Southern Plauter, ou the Claims of the Ministry to a Support. Messrs. Editors.?As your paper is, in part, dedicated to moral instruction, and numbers among its patrons those who are bound to the fulfilment of certain moral and religious duties, we feel that no apol? ogy is required for presenting the letter of "a Planter" for publieatien, prefaced by a few remarks. The letter points'out the obligations of a Christian to give of his substance to the support of the Gospel, and the true meas? ure of that obligation as enforced in the Bible. And though written to urge the members of the Methodist Chuch to do their duty in this respect, we presume it will be found alike applicable to those of the other orthodox branches of the Chris? tian Church. The writer makes au ap? peal, timely in its character, for it is a lamentable fact that, while in this young and fruitful country, immense fortunes are gathered, competence is general, and money is lavished upon every temporal enterprise, the coffers of the Church are comparatively empty, her Ministers poorly paid, and her efforts in the held of foreign and domestic missions, and in supplying a sound religious literature are crippled.? This is a crying sin of the Church and needs to be repented of. Subscriptions to railroads and banks, turnpikes and canals, are readily made; nor do members flinch from paying lib? eral salaries to their overseers, clerks and other employees to supervise their tem? poral interests, but are unwilling to allow those whom God has sent to instruct them in spiritual things, an amount sufficient to enable them to live decently and comfort? ably. ? Hence it is, that most of our Min? isters are unable to devote their entire time to preaching, but are compelled to teach school or follow some other secular calling to support themselves and families. We should like to see a statement of the contributions of the members of the various Churches, as compared with their means, to the support of the Ministry, to the cause of Missions. Theological Semi? naries, to the education of young men for the .Ministry, to the Sunday Sc'iooJ Union, the Bible Union, the Tract Societv, ami i for the publication and dissemination of religious books. We fear that each would have cause to feel ashamed; nay, we have cause to fear that the mere mention of this list of objects of Christian benevo? lence would startle hundreds. " The larg? est dollar current is the Church dollar.? It has an "effect upon the optic nerve that has never yet been satisfactorily explain? ed." says one. D?the is mistaken; the great Chalmers, in his speeeh. agajnstc/>v I'tpusns?*- has solved the ipysfcry: "The disease is as near universal as it is viru? lent. Wealth is the goddess whom ail the world worshiped). There is many a city in our empire, of which, with an eye of apostolical discernment, it may bo seen that it is wholly given over to idolatry.'' Another pious Christian thus paints the wants of the Church : ;- 0 for a race of merchants, ship master-, mechanics, of artists, of farmers; lawyers, employers and employees who will devote themselves to God a?; much as if they were ministers ! thus raising the common employments of life to the sublime dignity of preaching the gospel. Devoted hands are wanted at this day as well as tongues. Devoted for? tunes, devoted energetic business men, are the pressing need of the Church of Christ. A Church may possess a devoted Minis? try, but if she has not a devoted member? ship, she will go forth lamely upon all her enterprises of mercy. The Ministers of our Church need the backing of an ener? getic, consecrated, zealous membership. Ready to go forth to the ends of the earth. Will you send them? Ready to work to the ond of life. Will you support them ? Will you let them die in the har? ness of battle? Will you cease not to care for the mother and the babes, who share their toil and poverty ?" Solemn interrogatories, which eaqh Christian must answer to God for himself! Do they not feel the weight of obligation that is upon them to do so ? Have they not considered the matter? If not, let them read and ponder the following ex? tracts from the letter of a wealthy, liberal hearted Planter: Galvanic remedies have been the set? tled treatment for the chronic financial ailments of our Church. And the labors of a self-sacrificing ministry have proved adequate thus far to periodically electrify the membership into the discharge of a part of their duty. This, at best, securis but an occasional, uncertain and unrelia? ble action. The difference between it and vital motion of mercy is very great. Like the stupor which precedes death from Artie cold, the deadly slumbers of a soul chilled by covetousness is croeping over onr Church, and the most exciting I and incessant efforts barely suffice to ar? rest the fatal torpor. Methodism is like a person whose entire right side is paral? yzed. The cause of Missions suffers par? alysis. Th2 cause of Education moves only by th j large sacrifices of the few; while the labor of securing a sum suffi? cient to bu .ld a church has come to be so great, that the most zealous become worn out and disheartened by a few successful efforts. The support of the Ministry is meagre, and the annual deficiencies so great, that it is questionable if they, as a class, do not mainly support the gospel. The fam? ilies of deceased Ministers are so poorly cared for, that the conviction must often be forced upon them that the Methodists are incapable of common gratitude. In raising the current expenses of a Church, the membership have again and again to be approached, urged and coaxed into the most ordinary contribution to? ward the support of the gospel. Where Ministers have worn out their strength with thirty or forty years' labor, they are left to shift as best they may. and are presently forgotten. No shadow of moral right to a support is allowed the Minister of the gospel by his brethren, nor is the amount paid him regarded, either by faith or right, as a claim that attaches, in any sense, to the yearly income of any man who professes himself to be a member of the household of faith. All that is given that way. is given?as a charity outright. This state of things, to say the least, of it, absolutely ignores any obligation to pay any part of our substance to the Lord.? And the Methodist Church is fast coming to the attitude of a Church which ack? nowledges no duty to return, annually, anything for the blessing of substance and yearly increase. God charged back? sliding; Israel with robbery. 13ut our Church takes higher ground, and denies all right upon the part gf the Lord to any portion of its income. St. Paul has placed the claim of a Gos? pel Ministry upon the same footing with that of the Ministry of the Temple. They who waited at the altar had a provision made for then., in the law, and yet for support were left dependent upon the vol? untary obedience of the people. Tithes were not legally enforced. Gospel Min? isters being the Ministers of Christ, are not of Levj, yet the Apostle places their support upon the same basis : " JDo ye not enow that they which minister about holy things live of the things of the tem? ple ? Even 60 hath the Lord ordained tha*: they which preach the gospel should live of the gospel." 1 Co., ix?13, 14.? As. on the one hand, a Minister of the gospel has no right to " entangle himself with the cares ?f this file, that he may please Jlim who hath chosen him to be Ji soldier;" ho. on the other, he has a right in gospel equity to a support out of the tribute which the people are enjoined to pay into the treasury of the Lord. . But the support of* Ministers is but one item. When a Church has done that, it has at least paid the mint and cummin? the present allowance for their support could scarcely be set down as the ': weight I ier matters " of mercy. The Christian Church holds a vast amount of life, and power, and blessing in her hands, in the snape of the goods of her Lord: values upon the expenditure of which are sus? pended, the angelic: announcement of the gospel to many plains of earth where shepherds are sleeping shrouded in dark? ness, the reclaiming of wastes that have never bloQmed as yet, and the introduc? tion of many inquiring strangers to Him I who bought them with his own. blood.? What has stayed her ? Why docs she not sow gladness over the earth ? Upon what passions is she expending the sums which she keeps back from her Lord ? Where is the money which has been placed by Him, along with the word, in her hands, with the commandments, ::Go preach the ' gospel to every creature!" She must pour forth both substance and soul for the World. Eternity will hold her to it.? Seventy barrels of blood pass through the heart of a man in twenty-four hours, so must life be thrown out in volume, by the Church, to every extreme part of the hu? man nice. If there be any basis of duty, if any motive of love, if any strong pur? pose of zeal, let them bo announced from the pulpit, in the class-room, and at the Conference, until the generosity " which never faileth" is acknowledged as an es? sential quality of Methodism. * * Let us come back to the least, the very least that God claims: One seventh of our tune and one tenth of our income. The learned Grotius, one of the ablest of commentators, in his treatise on the rights of War and Peace, chap. I, book I, speaks of a Christian man's duty: " So likewise the old law of the Sabbath and 1 that of tithes are a demonstation that Christians are obliged to set apart no less \ than the seventh part of their time for worship of God, no less than the tenth part of their fruits or profits for the mainten? ance of those who are employed in holy affairs, or for other sacred and pious uses." (Lord Chief Justice Hale, Eev. Dr. Hammond. Baxter, and Doddridge, each gave one tenth.) Mr. Wesley says, in a sermon of burn? ing words, on the danger of increasing riches: "But many have found out a way never to be rich, though their substance increase ever so much. It is this: as fast as ever money comes in they lay it out, either in lands or enlarging their business. By tins means each of these keeping him? self bare of money, can still say, ' I am not rich;' yea, though he has ten. twenty, a hundred times more substance than he had some years ago. It is possible for a man to cheat himself by this ingenious device. And he may cheat other men; for, : as long as thou doest good unto thy? self, men will speak well of thee.' But, alas! he cannot deceive the devil. Ah, no! the curse of God. is upon thee al? ready, and all that thou hast. And to? morrow when the devil seizes thy soul, will he not say. ' what do all thy riches profit thee.' Will they purchase a pillow for thy head in the lake of fire burning with brimstone? or will they procure thee a cup of 1 water to cool thy tongue, while thou art tormented in that placo?' 0, follow the wise direction here given, that God may not say unto thee, ; Thou fool.'" This shift, therefore, will not avail.? It will not be any. protection, cither against the wrath of God, or the malice and power of the devil. Unless thou givest A Full Tenth of the substance of thy fixed and occasional income, thou dost undoubtedly ?et thy heart upon thy gold, and it will ;: eat thy flesh as fire!" Towards the last of his Ministiy, Mr, Wesley gave no uncertain sound against the love of money. Not only his preach? ing but his example was eminently fitted to show his followers their duty. He gave away all?absolutely all. He re? served not over fifty pounds a year for his expenses, and ': died not having ten pounds left." He transcended the tithe quantity by as much as the whole is great? er than a tenth. Who, of all his follow? ers imitate his example ? How small is the sum of them! Has not the time come for acting if we ever hope for a reform ? Let our Church recognize the principle that it is the duty of every member to pay, annually one tenth of his income, as the least required by the gospel. How can our people be induced to make such a sacrifice ? Breth? ren, what are we doing ? Let us awake! Let us employ our whole soul, body and substance according to the will of our Lord ! Let us render unto God the things that are God's : eyen all that we arc and have. Unless we see: God's claim in evcry piccc of gold, or land, or goods, we soon lose sight of God in the engrossing pur i suit of wealth. * * * * It will be felt that Hi6 is the share that insures the blessing, and nine parts with j a blessing are rather to be chosum than ten without. The sight of His share will keep His law in mind amid tho competi? tion and temptation of trade : His justice will seem to sit upon.it, and tQ assert the worth of virtuous integrity % Will members of the Church read! ponder! learn their duty, and do it! May God help them to do so! A Methodist Laymax. -4? Knowledge.?" One fountain there is," says Miss Fredreka Bremer, " whose deep vein has only just begun to throw up its silver drops among mankind?a fountain which will allay the thirst of millions, and will give to those who drink from it peace and joy. It is knowledge; the fountain of intellectual cultivation, which gives health to mankind, makes clear his vision, brings joy to his life, and breathes over his soul's destiny a deep repose. Go and drink therefrom, thou whom fortune has not favored, and thou will soon feel thy? self rich! Thou mayest go forth into the world and find thyself everywhere at home; thou canst cultivate thyself in thine own little chamber; thy friends are ever around thee, and carry on wise con? versation with thee, nature, antiquity, heaven are acceptable to thee/' -? Tokens of Affection.?There is some? thing in those trifles that friends bestow upon each other, which is an unfailing in? dication of the place the giver holds in the att'ections. I would believe that one who preserved a lock of hair, a simple flower, or any other trifle of my bestow? ing loved me, though no show was made of it; -while all the protestations in the world would not win my confidence in the sincerity of one who set no value on such little things. Trifles they may be, i but it is by such that character and dis? position arc oftenest rovealed. Cheerfulness. Although a cheerful countenance does not always betoken peace of mind and a heart at ease, it is the harbinger of good will, and speaks favorably for the charac? ter of the wearer. On the other hand, a sulky appearance is oftener the sign of peevishness and displeasure, than of sor? row or pain. As politeness is a man's passport where he is not known, so good - humor will ensure him a continuance of favors which his good manners have elic? ited, and will preserve affections that beauty and elegance can do little more than win. Nothing is more amiable than ! a constant desire to please, and an unwil? lingness to offend the taste or hurt the feelings of a friend. And when this sweetness of disposition shines out in the calm, placid countenance, it is the token, at-least of a contented mind. The troubles of life fall lighter when they are calmly looked for and quietly reccivod, than when he who must bear I them bears also a continual frown. The less we dwell upon our various burdens, the lighter they will appear; and if we must carry them?if misfortune must bo our lot?why aggravate our distress by reproaches and grievings? and why tell tho world by gloohiy looks and bitter words, of the troublo which sympathy may not relievo ? But good nature may be carried too far, and become the unintentional cause of prevarication and deceit; and men are sometimes found, who, rather than offend a friend, will stoop to flattery or down? right untruth. There are those who use it to so great an extent that it blinds their reason, and, like Honeywood in the play, they satisfy and encourage the ap? parently charitable demands of those who have penetration enough to ascertain'the weak points of their " good natured friend," and brass enough to invent and Cany out their schemes of attack. Good humor, when not weakened by a universal and indiscriminate charity, is the most exquisite beauty of a fine face, and a redeeming grace in a homely one. It is like the green in the landscape, har? monizing with every color, mellowing the glories of the bright, and softening the__ hue of tho dark, -*> Noele Sentiments.?This is an agree? able world, after all. If we would only bring ourselves to look at the objects that Surround us in their true light, we should sec beauty where before we beheld de? formity, and listen to harmony where be? fore wc could hear nothing but discord. To bo stifte, there is a great deal of anx? iety and vexation to meet; we cannot ex? pect to sail on a calm summer coast for? ever ; yet if we keep a calm and steady hand, we can so trim our sails and man? age our helm as to avoid the quicksands and weather the storms that threaten shipwreck. Wo are members of one great family, we are travelling the same road, and shall arrive at the same goal. We breathe the same air, .are subject to the same bounty, and we shall lie down in the bosom of our common mother. It is not becoming, then, that brothershould hate brother; it is not right that neigh? bor should injure neighbor. We pity the cian who can harbor enmity against his fellow; ho loses half the enjoyment of life?he embitters his own existence. Let us tear from our eyes the colored medium" that invests "every obje'Ct with the green hue of jealousy and suspicion. Turn a deaf ear to the talc of scandal, breathe the spirit of charity from our hearts; let the rich gush of human kindness swell up a. fountain, so that the "golden age" will become no fiction, and blessings bloom in more than "Hesperian beauty." -T+-? Beautiful Thought.?There is but a breath of air and a beat of the heart, be? twixt this world and the next. And in the brief interval of painful and awful suspense, while we feel that death is present with uSj that we are powerless and he all powerful, and the lastfaint pul? sation here is but the prelude of endless life hereafter; we feel,' in the midst of the stunning calamity about to befall us, that the earth has no compensating good to mitigate the severity of our loss. But there is no grief without some beneficent provision to soften its intenseness. When the good and the lovely die, tho memory of their good deeds,- like the moonbeams on the stormy sea, lights up our darkened hearts, and lends to the surrounding^ gloom, a beauty so sad, so sweet, that we would not, if we could, dispel the dark? ness that environs it." -1?-,-.? A, Dutchman on being called upon to help to pay for a lightning rod for the vil? lage church, towards the building of which he had subscribed liberally, exclaimed; " I have helped to build a house for de Lort, and if he choose to donder on it and ' i knock it down,, he musht do it a$ tyc ovg I risk."