Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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?ggg--"1 g . - -? .gnkrs?n >lBtc!frgcnttr. The Way to Keep Him. - "Out again to night ?"snid Mrs. Hayee, fretfully, as her -husband rose from the teartabie, and donned his great coat. "Yes, I have an engagement with ; Moore, I shall be in early, have a light in ? the library. Good night." And with a careless nod, William Hayes left the ~oom. . "Ahvav3the way," murmured Lizzie ?Haves, sinking back upon the sofa. "Out "everv nio-lit. a don't believe he cares one bit about -me 'now, an 1 yet we've been married only two y-ars. No man can -have a more orderly ;..>use I am sure. I ?never go any w here I am not a bit exr truvagant; and yet I don't believe he loves me any more. O, dear, why is it? J wasn't rich ; he did not marry me for: - any money, and he must have loved me then; why does he treat me with so much j ?.neglect ?"* And with her mind filled with -such frightful queries, Lizzie fell asleep on ?the /sota. Let raepuintherpictUVeasshelay hero. ? She was a. blonde, with a small graceful 'figure and a pretty face. The hair which showed by-its rich waves its natural ten? dency to curl, was "brushed smoothly back, and gathered into a tich knot at the back ?it was such a bother to curl it, she said ?her cheek was pale, and the whole fice w.oie a discontented expression. Her >dress was a neat chiutz wrapper, bnt she wore neither collars nor sleeves. "What's ?he use oj" dressing up just for William ?" lizzie "slept soundly for two hbnrs, and then awoke suddenly. She sat up, glanced at the clock, and sighed drearily at the /prospect of the long interval still to be ?spent buf ire bedtime. The library-was just over the room in which she sat, and down the furnace-flue, . -through the register, a voice came to the younsr wife's ears. It was her husband's. -?""Well, Moore, what's a man to do? I Taust have pleasure somewhere. Who /would have fancied that Lizzie JarYis,-so' ,pretty, sprightly, and losing,-could change to the fretful dowdy she is now ? Who wants to stay at home to.hear his wife "whining all the evening about her trouble? some servants, and.her headache and all rsorts"of bothers ? She's got the knack of that draw?iig whine, so pat, 'pon my life i don't believe she can speak pleasantly." Lizzie sat as if stunned. Was this true? looked in the glass. If not exactly dowdy, hvrcostume was Plainly not suitable lor an evening with only William to admire. She rose, and softly went to hc-r room, - *with bitte-, sorrowful thoughts, and a /firm resolution, to win back her husband's heart, and theu, his love regained, to keep ?him. * * * * The next morning William came into the breakfast room with his usual careless manner, but a bright shiue cause on his Jip&as he saw Lizzie. A pretty chintz,: "with a neat" collar and sleeves of snow white muslin, with a wreath of soft full ?curls, bad.really metamorphosed her; -virile - the. blush her husband's admiring glance called up to her cheek did not detract from her . beauty. At first William thought there m'tisr, be a gnest, but glancing around, he found they were alorte. "Come, William, your coffee will soon ' "be cold," s? dLizzie,in a cheerful pleasuut V01C3. . "it must cool till you sweeten ray break? fast with a kiss,'' said her husband cross - iug the.room to her side, and Lizzie's heart bounded as she recognized the old IoverNs tone and manner. Not one fretful speech, not one com ? plaint fell upon William's ear through the meal. The newspaper, the usual solace at that hour, lay untouched, as Lizzie chatted gaily on every pleasant topic she could think of, warming by his grateful interest and cordial manner. " You will be at home to dinner ?" she said, as he went out. ~ "'..anTt to-day, Lizzie. Tve business out of town, but 111 be home early to tea.? Have something substantial, for I don't expect to dine. Goodby," And the smiling look, warm kiss, and lively whistle were a marked contrast to his lounging . careless gait of the previous evening. "I am in the right path," said Lizzie in a low whisper. ' Oh, what a fool I have : been for. the last two years! 'A fretful dowdy.' William, you shall never say that again." Lizzie loved her husband with a real wifely devotion, and her lips would quiver as she thought of the confidence to his fnend Moore ; but like a brave little wo? man she stifled back the bitter feeling, ;and tripped off to perfect her plans. The grand piano, silent-for months, was opened, -. and the linen covers taken from the fur i niture, Lizzie saying, "lie shan't find any parlors more pleasant than Iiis own, I'm determined.'' Tea-time, and William came with it. A little figure in a tasty, bright silk dress, smooth curls; and oh! such a lovely blush . ami smile, stood ready to welcome William as he came in ; and tea time passed as the morning meal had done. After tea there was no movement as usual toward the hat rack. William stood up beside the table lingering and chatting, until Lizzie arose. She led linn to the light, warm parlor, in their pretty glow of tasteful arrangement, and drew him down on the sofa beside her. He felt as if he were courting <.ver again, as he watched her fingers, busy with some fancy needle-work, and listened to the cheerful voice he had loved so dearly two years before. "What are you making, Lizzie?" "A pair of slippers. i)on't you remem? ber how much you admired the pair I worked for you?oh ! ever so long ago ?" "I remember?black velvet,'with flow? ers on them. I used to put my feet on the fenders, and dream of blue "eyes and j . bright curls, and wished time would move ? faster to the day w+rm -f?crmtct?Dring my bonny wife home to make anisic in my house." Lizzie's fare saddened for a moment, as she thought of the last two years, and how little music she had made for his Iov iug heart, gradually weaning it from its allegiance, and then she said : "I. wonder if you love music as you did then rr "Of course T do. I very often drop into Mrs. Smith's for nothing else than to hear the music." "I can play and sing better than Mrs. Smith," said' Lizzie, pouting. "But you always say you are out of j.racLiuo wheu I ask you*'' "I had tho piano tuned this rooming. Now open it and we will see how it sounds." William obeyed joyfully, and tossing aside her Be wing, Lizzie took the piano stool. She had a very sweet voice, not powerful, but most musical, and was a very fair performer tm the pinao." "Ballad, Lizzie." "Oh, yes, I know. yon dislike opera music in a parlor." One song after another, with a noc? turne or lively instrumental piece, ?cca -sionally, between them, filled up another hour pleasantly. The little mantel clock struck eleven ? "Ele\ en ! I thought it was about niue. I ought to apologize, Lizzie, as I used to ? do for staying "so long; and I can say truly, as I did then, that the time has passed sq.pleasantly lean scarcely believe: it so late." Tiie piano was closed, Lizzie's work'put' up in the basket, and William was ready to go up stairs; but glancing "back, he saw his little wife near'the fire place, her hands clasped, and her head bent, and large tears falling from her eyes. He was be? side her in an instant. "Lizzie, darling, are you ill ? What is the matter ?" . . "Oh, William, I have been such a bad wife, I heard you tell Mr. Moore last even? ing how I had disappointed ycu; but I will make 'your home pleasant. Indeed I will, if you will forgive and love me." "Love you ! Oh, Lizzie,.you can-1 guess how dearly 1 Joye you !" As the little wife lay down that night she thought? "I have won him back again ! Better than that, I have learned the way to keej him.!" A Mischievous Widow. A masquerade would net be much of an affair it there were not some ludicrous scenes attached to it, or connected with it. Last evening that of the Musical So? ciety was no exception to the general rule, and any number of funny incidents transpired. No person failed to notice a conspicu? ous costume present, a gentleman dressed as a Spanish cavalier?a very neat and tasty dress, set off on a well-built and athletic frame. The gentleman whom we shall call X., paid particular?indeed most devoted attention to a pink domino, enshrouding a sj'lplvlike form, acting as her escort at all times, and paying no at tion worth noticing to anybody else. In promenading or in resting they were in earnest conversation, and the ladies, who could not fail to notice them, thought he must bo a duck of a fellow to pay so much attention, while the gentle? men thought she must ho a divine little angel?o listen so devotedly to aU his soft things. Perhaps both of them were just what they had the credit of being. The cavalier was a legal gentleman of our city, and the pink domino was?no matter who just now. The gentleman is married and has a small family. He loves his wife, but peo? ple do whisper that sometimes he loves other peoples' just as much. The cava? lier proposed sometime .since to go to the ball, but his wife insisted that her health was not very good, and as there would bo something of a crowd present she would not go?to her masquerades were very tedious affairs at best. TlnitX. was delighted with the determination there is no doubt. He did not say so, however, but the day bis wife decided not to go he met in company a young and pretty wid? ow, and in tho heat ot tho excitement he asked her to accompany him to'the mas? querade. The widow was possessed of a bosom lull of fun, and she consented to go. X. fitted her out with a costume and a pink domino, and as everybody saw, who noticed it, very pretty and very ex? pensive. Now, in concluding to go the widow had some object in view, evident? ly, for 3'esterday, so runs the story, she saw X. go away from home, when she sought the presence of his wife and told her tho wbolo story, and in conclusion she said : uNow you've heard the whole thing. That good for nothing husband of yours has boon paying too many attentions to mo of late, and I do not like it. If 3-011 are a woman of spirit yon will play a trick on him for this, and if }-ou aro not, why I'll?I'll?just go with him to the masquerade, and I will flirt with him all the evening just as hard as ever I know how." It is presumed tho wife was not r. wo? man of spirit, for last evening about nine o'clock a Spanish cavalier, very gentle? manly, very devotedly, and very lovedike, assisted" a domino into a carriage and drove to Music Hall. At the hall the cotlplo paid little atten? tion to the funny scenes about them. If they laughed at all it Was at their own wit. Prying eyes tried hard to rind out who they were. They sauntered about until tired. They took refreshments and occasionally a glass of wine. They made no attempts to peep beneath each others masques, for it was evident they knew each other well. At all times the cava? lier seemed whispering the sollest things in tho domino, and a close observer might havo seen that occasionally the words were very soft, for they made the fair domino start and tremble just a little, but she seemed to have good control of herself, but there is no doubt that could her face havo been seen, there would havo been traces of blushes. It was not a very late hour wThcn the cavalier and the domino had disappeared from the scene When the masques wefo removed at 12 o'clock, anxious ones were looking to sec who tlie cr uple were, but they were gone, and all were disappoint? ed. Lot us follow them to the homo of tho widow, where they drove in hnstc, tht. cavalier very happy, very talkative, and almost beside himself with joy?tho domino very quiet and very reserved. They ?*r?r? "lir>^" ?n/r? the drawing room, whoro tho domino- throve hj^elJLuncjw* loun.ro. The ea^^~r^tep^br\virW "trt turn up the gas a little, but a pleasant voice says, "I will doit for you, Mr. A., and tho room is ablazo with the light. Tho voice was that ot tho young widow", and tho blazo of the light showed the lawyer leaning upon a chair, perfectly aghast with astonishment, looking from tiie widow to tho domino, yet unable to utter a word. "Why, what is tho matter with Mr. X.?" asked tho widow, "you look aston? ished. I expected you, and havo been waiting for you some time. Your Wife told me she would come here." '"My wifo !" gasped tho cavalior. "Yes, your wife. Why, what Ms the matter with you ? Are you unwell ?" The cavalier scarce seemed to know whether he was unwell or not. He turn? ed to the don ino. She had'removed her masque, and he saw his wife sitting be? fore him. His astonishment -was greater than before. Still be could sdy nothing. The wife was too indignant to speak. The widow came-to the relief or'both. t:I tell you what it is, Mr. X.," she said,: "You've one of the best women in the world for a wife, and 3-ou abuse her worso than any man I ever knew. I just wish I was in her place for about fiveminutcs." The cavalier looked, as if he wished nothing of tho kind. The widow Svcnt: on. "You insulted me in asking mo -to'-g?: with you. If I had had a big brother, iiblc to whip you he should have done it, and if it had not been that a woman can? not do those things, I would'have done it myself. You deserved :it any way, you ugly monster. As I could not do it; I told your wifo, ;and we determined to ?punish you, arid I guess you have had a pretty good lesson, and one which will last you-somctime. I know, by the way your poor wife blushes, you hare said all' sorts of insulting things to her, thinking it was me; but it wasn't, and I guess you have found it all out. You've had your lesson ; now go home, end if I ever bear' of your neglecting your 'wife ;again, or running off after other women, I'll tell the whole stoiy, and have it published in the papers, with your name in great big type?oh! you Trig monster, you!" Poor X. was suffering terribly. He had never been caught so fairly before. The perspiration was pouring down his fore? head, and the air of the room seemed ter? ribly confined. He mentally cursed mas-: q[uerades, dominos, bewitching widows,' and his own stupidity, and it was 'a'rc'licf when his wife, who evidently felt that he had been punished sufficiently, intimated tbat they had better go home, and the poor cavalier slunk away, like a whipped school boy.?Milwaukee Wisconsin. -_-o The Unclad Horseman. BY MAJOR JONES. Widowers should look out for breakers. Absalom Nippers was a widower, and o:ne of the most particular men, perhaps, that ever lived, though some people -said that when his wifo was alive he used to dress as a common field 'hand, and didn't use to take an}' pains with himself at all. Everybody knows how he spruced up about six weeks after Mrs. Nippers died-, and how he went to church regular every Sunday ; but they didn't have no confi? dence in his religion, and used to say he only went to church to show his new suit of mourning, and to ogle the gals. With such a character among the'wim men, it aint to be supposed that he stood an}' chance of getting another Mrs. Nip? pers near "home; and whether ho was as bad to his first Wife as they said he was, or not, one thing was certain, he hail to: look abroad for some one to fill her place Mr. Nippers was very lucky in finding a gal just to his mind, who lived, about ten miles from his plantation. Nancy Parker was rich, and though she wasn't very young nor very handsome, she be? longed to Mr. Rippers' church, and filled his eye exactly; so he sot in courtin' her with all his miglit. Ten miles was a good long ride, and as he was an economical man, he used to ride over to Mrs. Parker's plantation every Sunday morning to go to church with the family, take dinner "with them;, and ride back in the cool of the evening. In that way ho managed to kill two birds with one stono ; that is, to advance the prospect .of happiness on this earth and in the world to come at the same time, without losing any of his week-day time. A ride over a dusty road is apt to soil a gentleman's dry goods, and make him and his horse very tired. However, Mr. Nippers didn't mind tho fatigue as much as his horse; but in a matter such as. he had in hand, it was very important that he should make as good an impression as possible, so he adopted a plan by which ho was able to present himself before the object Of his affections, in order, with his Sunday coat as clean, and his blooming ruflles as fresh and neat as if they had just come out of a band box. This was a happy expedient, and nobody but a widower lover would think of it. He used to start from homo with his new coat and shirt tied up in a pocket hand? kerchief, and after riding within a quarter of a mile of Mrs. Parker's plantation, he would turn off into il thicket of chinka? pin bushes, and there make his rural toil? et. One bright Sunday morning Mr. Nippers had arrived at his dressin'ground. It was an important occasion. Every thing was promisin', and he had made up his mind to pop the question that very day. Tiicro was no doubt in his mind that ho would return homo an engaged man ; and he was reckoning' over to him? self the value of Miss Nancy's plantation and niggers, while ho was soltiu" on his horse makiu' his accustomed change of dress. He had dropped the reins on his horse's neck, what was browsin' about, making up his last night's scanty feed from the bushes in his reach, and kickin' and stampin' at such flies as was feedin' on him iri return. "I'll fix the busincs this time," ses Mr. Nippers to himself. "I'll bring things to a pint this timo," scs ho, and ho untied his handkerchief with his clean clothes, and ho spread them on his saddle-bow. "Wo, Ball," 6es ho?"I've just got lo say tho word, and?wo!" scs he to his horse, what was kickin'and rearin'about. "Wo! you old fool!?and the business is settled jist like faIIin' off a log." lie was drawin' his shirt over his head, when Ball gave a sudden spring what liko ter^inll' btfWrtenrfti&ttht^^ the sleeves, Ball was wheelin' and kickin' like wrath at something that seemed to trouble him behind. JL)own went tho clean clothes, shirt and all. on the ground. "Wol Blast yer pictur?wo now!" scs Mr. Nippers, grabbin' at the reins. But before" ho could got hold of 'cm, Ball was off like a streak of lightnin', with a whole swarm ot yellow jackets round his *tt-Mr. Nippers grabbed hold of tho nianb and tried to stop his horse, bu&t was no 1 use. Away went the iufuriate'd Bail, and ttikin' the road he-was used to travel? ling another moment brought iiirn to the house. The gate was open, and in dashed the horse with the almost naked Nippers hangin' to his neck hollerin', "Stop him ! ?hornets!" as loud as he could scream. On came the dogs, and after the horse they went round the house, scatterin' the ducks and chickens, and torrifyin' the lit? tle niggers out of thcir/?crre?s. The noise brung the wimmen to the door. "Don't look, Miss.-Nancy! hornets! Wo! ketch him-!" touted the unclud Nippers, as, with spent breath, he went dancin' out Of:tho gate again, with the dogs still.after him, and-his horse'a^tail switchih':in every direction like a young hurricane. Miss "Nancy got one glimpse' of her forlorn lover, and before she could get her apron to her eyes, she fainted at the awful sight, whilst his fast reccdin' voice cry in* "Hornets! stop him! hor? nets !" still rang in her cars.?N. 0. Pic. -o Orphans. The following, which we take from the Natchez Democrat, was written, we war? rant, by a good father and-eharitable man May those of our readers who pcrsue it take to their hearts the lessons there con? tained: This article will most probably be skip? ped on account of its caption. People, are rao accustomed to hear Clia'rity ser? mons, and charity cant, and charity beg? ging, and to see speculations for charity, and charity swindles, that now-a-days the very name of charity has become sugges? tive of mono}*, and'causes a sinking of the heart, and an involuntary grasp upon the pocket book. 13ut let any one take a moment of soli? tude and imagine himself a little orphan child, or his children little oiphans, with onlyrs't:i,angei,s to look to for love and as? sistance, if they are to have love and as? sistance at all, and if he has any imagina? tion and heart he will find a feeling of sad compassion coming over him, and a desire to?shun the subject. The source of most of the hard-heartcd ncss in this world, is thoughtlessness.? There is no lack of sympathy when men allow themselves to imagine themselves in the place of those who aro needy or suffering. The injunction '-know thyself," means: know not only what you feel and think now, but also how you would feel, think and act under any given circum? stances. Compassion and sympathy are feeling just as the object presented feels. \Yc Lavs compassion up?'n the suffering and sympathy with the poor, or joyous, only when we can imagine that wu feel just as the suffering, or poor, or joyous feel. Let us ask you, therefore, to try while by yourself to-day or to-night, and imag? ine yourself or your child an orphan.? You will then be able to sympathize with an orphan. Many of the little children at the Orphan Asylums have had as good and loving parents as you, and- as com? fortable homes as yours. But the parents are dead and the homes desolate or occu? pied by others. ?Shut .your eyes now, and give the reins to your imagination. ' You r-.r'e dead; your little boy and girl arc parcntless.? They (iw be no longer clasped in your arms. Their tears are unheeded or harsh? ly reproved. Their wants; even if rela? tives supply them, are only half foreseen or provided. Your anxious love no lon? ger watches over them, and their joys and their sorrows must be imparted to Stran gers. But those to whom you, or circum? stances, have eh trusted the little ones, de? prived ?f .your earoj becomo weary of them, and they are shifted off to other strangers, or allowed to run half wild upon the streets, until at last the}' are sent to an orphan asylum. Thank God tor that. They have a refuge at last, and their most necessary wants may be sup? plied, even though the supply be preca? rious. Charity in the community is at a discount, and sometimes bread and meat and clothes are scarce with yeur little ones and the other little ones congrega? ted there, and you can imagine your cher? ished children trying on the half worn out shoes, Und out-grown Jackets and frocks, sent, in chance of a fit, by some fortunate mother, and can sec their pride and comfort in wearing them, and can see, too, the greed and joy they feel at the little treat of a piece of cake or a bit of candy?those children you now love so much, and who have everything they can desire. And you sec them of a Sunday g?'iiig to church in the procession, two by two, with the ill-assorted dresses, and shabby, well brushed shoes, and thread? bare pants (lor charity, remember; is at a discount,) and see them filo in and take their seats to hear a sermon on charity, which falls upon weary cars, and excites no sympathy for your dear- children.? They go back to their public home, and the Matron, though She he an angel upon earth, can work no miracle, arid give them delicacies where there is a lack of even plain food, rind though she were endowed with all human wisdom, and goodness, and patience, cannot indulge them in all the childishness you would have tolerated. All this is very sail. .Even though a bountiful fund were provided for the pub? lic charity, it is sad to be dependent upon a public charity for love, and tor food and comfort. How much moro grievous to Matron, and nurse, and children when the fare is poor, and scant, and precari? ous, and even rags, and old hats,-and bon flets, and shoes, are acceptable gifts. Ah, fellow subjects, if you will inquire into the condition of theorphans, and will follow our advice and imagine ycuiself or yours to be in their position, yon will never allow them to want the few homo? like comforts and pleasures you can make them have. -.-o WKi'isu'iiii's Most Isipoiitajct Thought: ?When Daniel Webster was Snerctarv ol Jitntr www m.m thai bTlflrT Fi 11 more, lie wrote to one of the proprietors, of the As tor House, in New York,- saying that he would reach, that house on such a day, and begged that sonic of bis friends should be invited to dine with him the same evening. There were about twenty or so at the table, and Mr. Webster seemed wearied by his travel, and speaking but little, if at all, plunged into darksome reverie, not well calculated to enliven his friends.? This at length became so apparent, and the situation of all so unpleasant, that one of the company urged upon a very distin? guished man present?a warm friend of Mr. Webater?to get him into' conversa? tion, lie needed "o be jogged to become as lively as they -wished. Thw -fiiend consented, and spoke aloud to Mr. Websteraskmg him some questions that in ordinary "-circumstances, and with ordinary men would hav? led to conversa? tion ; but it failed in the present case. The dark Secretary of State merely answered simply, and crept into his cive'again. Again the gentleman, frightened by Iiis failure, was urged lo renew the attempt to draw bim out. He summoned, courage and said: "Mr. Webster (Mr. Webster looked out of his cave,) I want you to t ell me what was the most important thought that ever Occupied your mind." Here was a thumper for him, and so every body thought at tl:e table. Mr. Webster slowly passed his hand over his forehead, and in a low tone said to a friend near him: "Is there any cue here who does not know me." "No. sir, they all know you?all are your friends." Then he looked over the table, and you may imagine how the tones of his voice, would be on such an occasion giving an? swer to such a question. '"The most 'impdrfant thought that ever; occupied my mind,' said, "was th&t ofiny my individual responsibility to God!" Upon which for abotTt twenty minutes, he spoke to them there, and when he had finished, he got up from the table and retired to his room, and they, without a word, went .into an adjacent parlor, and when they had'gathered there, some exclaimed, "Who ever heard anything like that ?" What Mr. Webster said in advocacy of his sublime though", I do not know. No one has ever repeated it, and I presume, no one can. -?:-O--? Farmers' Gardens.?Perhap3 there isr no one thing connected with the culture 'of the"ioi' so badly and nuivcrsally neg? lected by farmers a.-, their gardens. I low many in your neighborhood, reader, have what may be strictly termed a <-ood gar? den from year to year ? How many grow an abundant snpply of small fruits for the use of the family ? How many have as? paragus, radishes and salads plentifully or at all, early in the season ; melons, cucum? bers, squashes, tomatoes, cabbages, peas, beans, green corn, etc., in the summer months; and celery, vegetable oysters, parsnips, turrips, horse-radish, &c, in the fall, winter and earl;,- spring? All farmers sjiould and can have them?nothing which th'ey ^a:-t is cheaper, more grateful or healthful than these, together .with thc: summer fruits. If we.can persuade you to take the pains an<3 incur the slight ex? pense necessary to their production, we. shall be amply rewarded for otr labor by .the gratitude and satisfaction which we know those feel who are dependent on you for support, and who eat daily at your table. Have you a garden spot ? It should be a choice piece of land; not large, but rich, dry, warm, near the dwelling, and enclos? ed to prevent the depredations of fowls and animals. If the seil is poor you have the means at hand to make it rich; it heavy and wet. thoroughly underdrain it ?as it is small, you can attorn this expense. Wc repeat, it need not be large, for a small garden well tilled is much better and less costly than a large one overrun with weeds and cultivated like your fields. Leaf mould from the woods, with asl.es, lime and plaster, are the best manures you can use, unless you can spade or plow in deep fine barnyard manure. This year you should make a compost heap, and have it on hand for the next-. , , . Iftlje garden issmall ft is best not to plow, but rather spade it. First of all lay it out well; make a bed or border, as they are called, four or five fee.t wide all round the outside;, Next to this a walk ; then one ?r two broad cross-walks, and reserve the rest for beds and walks as crops and circumstances shall dictate. Make .up your mind now to have a good garden this year; and iri our next article we will try and tell you how ",o start the early ve? getables and seeds in a cheap and simple manner.?Moore's Rural JS^eic- York-:?. -:-? ' Tnt'e Courage.?Courage is incompati? ble with the fear of death; but every villain fears death; therefore no villain can be brave. He may indeed possess the courage of a rat, and fight with despera? tion when driven into a corner. If by cralt anil crime a successful adventurer, he should be enabled to usurp a kingdom and command its legions. There may be moments When; like Richard on the field of liosworth, or Napoleon on the plains of Marengo, all must he staked; an awful crisis is when, if his throne be Overturned, his scaffold must rise upor its ruins. Then indeed, though the cloud of battle should lower on his hopes, while its iron hail is rattling arouiid him; the greatest coward will hardly fly to insure that death which he can only escape by facing. Yet the glare ot a courage thus elicited by danger, where fear conquers fear, is not to be com? pared to. that calm sunshine which con? stantly cheers and illuminates the breast of him who builds his confidence on vir? tuous priiiciples; it is rather the transient and evanescent lightning of the storm, which derives half its lustre from the dark? ness that surrounds it.?Laeoiu ? Those who work hard seldom yield themselves entirely up to fancied or real sorrow. When grief sits down, folds its bands and mournfully feeds upon its tears, weaving a dim shadow that a little exer? tion niTght sweep away into a funeral pall, tho strong spirit is shorn of its might rfnd sorrow becomes our master. When troubles flow upon you, dark and heavy, tort on with the wave?wrestle not with the torrent?rather seek by occupation to divert the dark waters that threaten Lo overwhelm you in a thousand chan fertilize the present, arid give birth to fresh flowers, that they may brighten ihe future?flowers that will become pure and holy, in the sunshine that penetrates to tho path' of duty. Grief, alter all. is but a selfish feeling; and most selfish is he who yields himself to tho indulgence ol any passion that brings no joy to his fel? low men. ?B. F. DeBow, Esq, brother of the lamateil Mr. J. 1). B. DeBow, of the Re? view died in Elizabeth, New Jersey, on 31onday last> Miscellaneous Advertisements the YOHKVILLE ENaUIBEB. Literary and Family Newspaper, Enlarged and Improved for 1S67. TYPE A2TO 2T2W ATTRACTIONS* FGU? ORIGINAL STOSIES, AND three valuable premiums !! f THE ENQUIRER will appear on Thursday, the 3rd day of Jauury, lti07, increased in size, and printed on entirely new material, with die latest improvements in ilie art, presenting a moreattrac- ? live appearance, and containing at least five addi? tional columns of reading mailer?ilnj largest newspaper in the State outside ot Charleston. The iLditoi inl department will be conducted by Mr. James E. Wilson, assisted by Major James F. Hart. Mr. James Wood Davidson'will continue bis versatile ??Contribiitorials" from Columbia. Four original Moyeletts, written expressly for tlie Enquirer, will bo published during the year t The following are tiic titles: '?The Spectre of the Fireside"?by J. Wither spoon Erwin. ??The ?m.dow on the Wall"?by John Esfeb Coblie. ??The Wealth of Home"?by Mrs. M. A. Ewarf. "Elinor Westcrvelt, the Tury's Niece"?by Car ulinc F. Preston. TEJUfS?IN AD VANCE. Sl'KlO: CHRHZRCt One copy one year. S 2 50 $ 3 50 Two copies one year, 4 GO <5 00 Fire copies one year, 8 7-3 12 50' Ten copies one year, 17 50 23 00 One copy six mopths, 1 23 2 00 To the person sending us the largest club of subscribers,?a.l crl 75 in specie, or ?2 .30 in cur? rency, we wilT award a Patent Cotton Planter, whieii will co=t in Charleston ?li'iy dollars. To tiie person sending us the next largest club, on the same terms, we will award a Pa;ent Corn Plauler, which "Sfiircosrt'I? Charleston thirty dol? lars ! To ilie per.-on sending us '.lie third largest list, on the same terms, we will award one of Ames' Double Ccrn Sheilers, cost in Charleston, twenty dollars! , ? The premiums will he awarded to the successful competitors on the first Monday in March nest, at 8 o'clock. The names should bs sent in, however,' as ihey are obtained : additions being made lo the list up to the day of the award. 'No names will be Counied unless paid for. To persons who may make up clubs of ten? or more Dames; but who may tail to obtain a prize, we will send ihe Enquirer or.a year tree of charge, ?" auil a copy of either r'Tue Laftd we Love," -'.-Scott's Monthly Magazin??," or vGoday-'s Lady's Book." L. M. UitiSC, York villa. Greenville & Colniril/ia Rail RqaL GlXSEAL SlTPKR1XTKSDKNT s OvncB, *>hi?bia'. ."fpt. 12, IStiiJ. On and niter Monday, 17th inst:, Passenger Trains will be run daily; (Sunday's excepted) un? til further notice, as follows : Leave Columbia at - - 7 If t. r ? A Us:oh, - - 9 05 " New berry, - - - 10 25 *. m. Arrive at AoVtHIc, - - 3 1? j, a. ?? ?' Andersen, - - 5 10 *? ? " Green rille, .- 5 40 ?'.;. Leave Orr*-2 rille at - - 6 v.-J I. nr. " Andersen, - - f> :>0 ?' " Abbeville, - - 8 ^5 *. " Ncwbcrry, - 1 i"t* f. ?. Arrive at Alston, - - 2 45 >* " " Columbia; - 4 -?) ?? The bridge at Akton bfrin^ now cr.nipiV??d, pas? sengers and Avixhts will be trausp^it-*! wjth-iu*. delay. The expense ot frcijjnts, by lh* diiwij>tiB U.kUee of ihn W:tgOB3 ?nd C0.U3, Will tj? Largely _ reduced. J. H. LaSALLE, Gva'l Sujjtf. Sept 20. 13>;<5 li Sclieilule over S. C. Siaiiroad, GENERAL S.CP:TS ?fKC?; Cfr,\?n{?T?.T; >'. C, Nn?. S, liifjS. OX and after Wedn??l:ijN ?5i??ch'r>rr 7. H".'..6. the Passenger Trains of i his r?ad vrill run t/.e folio Wiag' Schedule: A COtSTA ISA i x. Lcnre Charljsron, ? r.n ?. *: Arrive ar Columbia; 5.2" p. ?;. Arri?: :-.t Augusta, 5.Wi f. ta Lesve Aa.'ii.-rn, 7.'X"' ft. in. Le;tte Columbia, fi.?f) *. ?i. Arrive ?wCharleston, 4.uu p. m. THKOCtiB XMZ. TRA15. Leave August a, P. 5.1 p. m. Arrive at Singitille, Llifri. x. Arrive at Columbia, 3.f.f *. r.. Leave Columbia; 2.W p. m? Arrire at Kinvtsville', 3.'A> p. iril . Arrive at Augusta. VSM n;ght; H. T. TSAF.E, GrRlSilp'ti Nvv 15. ISriS 22 Schedule over I?8 Blue RiJge FRilrbath OS and after Monday the 17th ir.m., the Trains on the Bins Ridge Railroad will l*av? Aadtrson for Pendleton and Walhalhi, o:i Wcdhes^u^s and Salurdays, a.ter the arrival of the Greenville 3c Columbia Railroad Trairii. Will leave Walhnlln on Mondays jit 0} o'clneV, a. in., oiinnecting with the down Train of Green? ville & Columbia Railroad. Will leave Walhalla on Wednesdays ->l 10 o'clock.' a. m. W. H. I). GAII.LAB.i), Snperintendent 3. R. P.. P.: S-npt 20, l?t;-3 15 THE TEI-T/EE^LY ?HCENS3* rCRLISHeit AT columbia, so: ca., CONTAIN3 the Intest, ir.^t ???-J im? portant News from efcry section. -Neatly pr.nted on good paper. i"K a xs?ix .\ r. r.\ xr r.: Tri-V>'?eklv one year, 22 ?0 Weekly one y?w\ 1 50 Advertisements inserted on rea?onal?l- t'--... ! Address JULIAN A. 3ELB1", Columbia, .S. C. DAILY SOUTH CAROLm?iv F. G. DcFONTAINE, editor and Proprietor. COLUMBIA, S. C. TERMS : Daily, twelve moirths; $fi (jj Daily, six months. 3 00 Daily, three months, 1 50 Single Copies. 05 To .N-:ws Dealer;; (Strictly in advance.) AdvertiscmcnIs inserted on reasonable terms. Address as above. NATIONAL HOTEL, Near ihe Greenville and Charleston Dejiots, 1 an [u.hl.c iK uTToTnicd that the above Hotel hW just been finished, and contains now furnituro throitghont, tor the accommodation of [te-ularand Transient Boar lers. The very best thai The mar? kets allord will be found on his lahle, prepared iu: oxccllcut style. Charges: modenue. ROBERT JOIXER. August 10, ISlili !7 JOHNSTON, CHEWS & CO., Importers and Wholesale Dealers In. STAPLE AND FANCY Dili GOODS, IVo. -11 Ila.vno Street, Charleston, S. C.