Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1ATX8 OF SUBSCSJPTIOIT.-Oitz Dollar *nd FitTT Cbxts per annum, In adrance. Two Doujuts at end of year. Skvk.vtv'-Fivk Cknts for sir months. Sul*crIptioas are not taken for a less period Shan six months. JCATSS OP ADVERTISING.?On* Dollar per a (ttare ol one inch for the first insertion, and Fifty Cents pewquare forsabsequentlnsertlonslessthan three months. No advertisements counte less than a square. Liberal contracts will be made with those wishing to ad vertise for three, six or twelve months. .Ad? vert!*! tg by contract mnst bo cenfined to the Ira tsedlat; business of the firm or Individual contrao *ioS'!tuary Netlces exceeding five lines, Tributes of He: pect, and all personal communications or matters of individual interest, will be charged for at advertising rates. Announcements of marriages And deaths, asd notices of a religious character, are vupeci&Uv solicited, and will be inserted gratis Fnm the Cincinnati Weekly Times. 0?R FRANK AND MY FRANK. 3x tbs Al'thoe of "the double life," etc. [Concluded.] CHAPTER TV. THE HOC R GBOW3 DABKEB?BEBEAVE MEXT. The family physician had failed Mr. Williams in his extremity, as he thought, - and he concluded to send for a minister. Now Mr. Williams was not a church going man, never had been. He was a worldly-minded, money-making, money saving man; he had taken root in the soil, and was growing downward; and had been, for many years, forgetful of his spiritual welfare. It was something novel for him to call on a minister in the church for advice and aid in his sore per? plexity, bnt he did it. The man came at- his call, a Methodist minister, very zealous, a youngish man of small stature, ? and had family services with him. He , read a chapter in the Bible, and knelt dow:.i to pray, and after a quite lengthy preface, ne asked of God that the son might be delivered from the fearful de? lusion under which he was laboring, and coma to- know and ? honor his parents. -?? Jost as he finished that sentence, Frank I Sicked the little man up, like he had | sec a baby, and seated him on a chair, and said to him very quietly? "I have borne much of evil here in this house, where I had hoped to find a refuge; and I have borne bravely and | well, too; but there is a limit to my for? bearance, and I shall not suffer you to insult the God you profess to serve, by telling him a falsehood. Some time you will know that I tell you the truth, when I tell you I am .not that man's son. Now, if you are disposed to pray that my uncle may have his eyes opened, that he may see how unjust and-cruel he is, that .. he may see himself as I see him, you .may pray, bot not else." - * * ? "(Wear, 0 dear," 8aid Mr. Wil? liams, "I fear that he will become abu? sive."- . '? ''Yon need have no fears of that," said Frank; "I have been wronged, traduced, slandered, imprisoned unjustly, denied my God-given rights, handcuffed, and abused in almost every way, and yet I have been guilty of nothing that a Chris? tian gentleman might be ashamed of." * * * Time passed on, and the hour became darker, and Frank more weary. He could uot dee, and by an effort to do so he would only draw upon himself fresh abuse, and perhaps the incarceration in the m-d-house, that he dreaded. He thougai that he had better wait; and he did wait, day after day. He had written to his cousin, he had written to Jane Smith. A letter might reach him from either, any day. And he watched the mail with the utmost solicitude, running in eager haste at every arrival, and re? turning each time more depressed. He waited, watched, hoped, and prayed, and finally, in an evil hour, despaired, and said, "Surely, I .am mad. Surely, I dreamed all this about my cousin Frank and Aunt Jane and Mona Liza. And I do wonder if I ever shall awaken and know that I have been dreaming. O, no, I shall never awake. They have I " pounded and punched ms enough to arouse anything bat the seven sleepers.; Ob, I' shall never wake up. And, oh, those atrong men, so many of them, that are ever in my tracks, ever watching me. Were it not for the dreaded watch set upon me, I think that I should not be so weary. Oh, slial). I ever see my queen | any more?" Weeks of this irksome life went by., ar.d Frank walked out one day, ana came in feeling very tired, in mind and | body. He could scarce set one foot be? fore the other; he could scarce raise his hand. He lay down on the bed. Soon be made an effort to rise, and could not. Frank was sick. He was burning with fever, and wildly delirious. The neigh-" burs were summoned, the doctor was called, and all was done for him what si-ill and love could do; but all availed nothing. The sick man raved from morning till night, from night till morn? ing. He would call out sometimes "Re? move the watchmen, I cannot bear the watch set upon me." And then again | he would call, hour after hour, "0, Frank, come home. 0, Frank, come home, come home." And then again he would talk about his aunt Jane, and Miss Smith, as if he awaited their coming, and realized all the difficulties of their journey. "Oh," he would say, "they never can climb the mountains, with their little white feet 0, there is mighty river, and no boat 0, the ene? my will destroy teem, O, come Frank, and then I can go and meet Mona Liza. Send those men away, and let me be free once more. I will go, I will go," and he would start forward; but strong men would hold him fast, and then he would say: "I will wait and watch for tb?ir oming, watch for their coming;" he \ ould say: "You will know them: Frank looks just like me, and Mona j Liza, is very fair and beautiful, and Miss Jane Smith is one in a thousand. You vail, know them. Tell me when they come. They will come. They will all come." Several days went by, and the dick man grew worse instead of better, and on the ninth day that look passed upon his face that comes but once, and is unmistakable. The hand of death was ] laid upon him, and he started up wildly, with wide, staring eyes, and said: "They have come, they have all come," and fell back a corpse. The funeral came, and a mighty con? course of people looked upon the still form, beautiful in its sleep, that can know no waking till earth and sea give up their dead, yet none dreamed the truth. He was buried as the son and heir, and mourned as such. Poor Frank had mourners, but never a true one fol? lowed his bier. They laid away his rifled casket in the cypress shade, and went home, with aching hearts, crying out, "I am bereaved; I am bereaved." And they were bereaved, for a more loyal heart than the one that had been stilled by death, never beat in a human bosom. And that mother assisted in nursing that man through mortal sickness, saw him arrayed in the grave's garniture, and laid in the tomb, aud still believed that he was once the babe that she cradled in her' bosom and hid in her heart. And the father believed that he had buried his only son; and he went about like M/inething haunted, for he said: "VVas I not hard on the poor boy ? There was something strange about the matter, mother, /or be was right in every? thing-else, and he held that fancy to the last moment in hit life; for, just before he breathed bis last, I heard him say, 'Poor, darling aunty; how she will mourn !' Yes, alas, poor aunty!" Just three days alter the fuueral of the .'sephew, the son and heir reached the little village of 31?, on his way home. There lived Dr. Wilson, that he loved 'ie.U to his father, and he went into the office. Twilight was settling down over the laiul-Citpv, and there were shadows In the corners of the rooms, ?nd the lamps were not yet lighted. The old Doctor looked up and saw the young man I lowing and mulling, as only our Frank I could, and be put up his hand and said, with chattering teeth: "Back ! back! I never harmed you." The young man took a step forward, and reached out his hand. But the old man retreated, shivering as with ague. Frank was astonished at this reception, but he turned away. And thinking that he needed a little rest and his supper be? fore traveling further, he entered the one hotel that the little town boasted of. He noticed that the people eyed him curious? ly, but he-reflected that he was the re? turning soldier, and accounted for the wide eyed stare in that way. But just as he was crossing the hall, he saw a half-grown boy looking at him so earnest? ly that he was induced to say: ""What is it, my boy?" "I was just a wonderin'," said the boy, "how you got all that dirt off of vou that was piled down so tight, and the coffin opened, and got up, and out, so clean and nice-. And I want you to tell me, for if ever I die, and I know I shall, ftl everybody does, I want to break out, too." "I cannot tell yon what you ask, for I was never dead and buried," replied Frank. "Sir 1" said the boy, "I seed you, a few days ago, put in a hole in the ground, with these two eyes. You can't cheat me." Frank passed on a little farther, and a woman, somewhat past middle age, came running toward him, threw her arms about his neck and kissed him and called him her dear son. "Madam," said Frank, "you are labor? ing under a mistake; I am hot your son, and I never saw you before." The lady fainted and fell to the floor. Then a young lady, beautiful as a dream of Eden, came out of the room on his right trembling and frightened, and bent over the fallen woman. Then she looked at Frank and said: "Will you please assist me in lifting her and conveying her to her room ?" They laid her on ..he bed, and they then applied restoratives. When the woman opened her eyes, the young lady turned to Frank and said: "My aunt mistook you for her nephew, Frank Wil? liams ; but you are, I suppose, the cousin that Frank wrote to us about." "Yes," replied Frank, "I am the cou? sin, his double. He wrote to me of the many mistakes that had occurred, and begged me to come home. Here is his letter, and perhaps his aunt would like to read it." and Frank gave into her hands the letter that he had received du- ' ring his sickness. And these two women were Jane Smith and Mona Liza, They were seeking Frank, and had reached that point just a few moments before Frank, the son and heir. They were very much fatigued, and there were no means of conveyance, and they had concluded to remain where they were till morning. Frank promised to return for them in the morning. After Frank had rested a little, and had his supper, he set out for home, on foot. He was light-hearted and happy, and thinking all the way of Nellie, aud say? ing, over and over, to himself, "To-mor? row I shall see Nellie?darling Nellie." Ob! Frank, you know not what a day may bring; dream not of to-morrow. When he reached home he found the doors and windows all barred, so that he could not possibly open them. Since the funeral those elderly - people had been very lonely, and a little afraid, for there was a floating population around that was considered dangerous. And he pounded, first at one door and then at another, and receiving no answer he called out, "Father; mother," and just then Ellen caught sight of him through a window, and went into violent hys? terics, His father took down a gun and called out: "Laave these premises or I will shoot you down like a dog; you are frighten? ing my wife to death." "I am your son Frank, just come home, and want to come in," was returned. The man dropped his gun and dropped on his knees, but as the knocking and shouting continued be Boon rallied, and shouted back: "One word more and you are a dead man. I have no son." Frank's head grew dizzy, and his senses seemed deserting him, but he called again: "I am Frank, you own Frank." For answer a bullet whizzed past him. And lest he should be shot by his own father he turned away, and thought that he would go over to Mr. Green's. But as he was passing down the hill he met a boy, and said to him. "Please stop a mo? ment, I wish to speak with you." The boy looked at him keenly by the moonlight and cried out, "Lord God Al? mighty, save me," and he fled like the wind. "Well, I suppose that he did not know me, but why he should fear me is more than I can tell," said Frank. "Every one seems frightened at me, and I think that I will not go to Mr. Green's." Per? haps he might think me a burglar, for it is getting late, and shoot me. I will turn back, and sleep in the barn; per? haps the horses and cattle will not scare at me. And to-morrow will bring all right." He went to the barn, threw himself down on a pile of hay. and slept till morning. And, O, that morning?that was to them an ever-to-be-remembered morning. Frank went up to the house about sunrise, and saw bis father and mother both standing on the piazza. At sight of him his mother fainted, and fell to the floor; and his father made no effort to speak to his son, or raise his | fallen wife, but cowered and stared like a mad man. Just at that moment, too, Jane Smith, and Mona Liza were set down by the mail-carrier at the door. Frank raised his mother and began to chafe her bands, and Jane Smith ran in, and rendered assistance, saying, as she did so, "It was the sight of you, of course, Frank, that made her faint. No wonder, poor dear! She has had a hard faint? almost death. I could not wait a mo? ment longer," she continued in apology to Frank for not waiting the carriage that he bad promised. "I chartered the hack at the first possible opportunity. Where is my Frank ?" she said, turning to Mr. Williams. "He was here not long since. He wrote me from here; and a sorrowful letter it was too. And I have encountered almost every conceiv? able hardship to reach this place. Where is my I rank ?" And she turned toward Thomas Williams and demanded an answer. "Alas! alas! I know nothing at all," wailed Mr. Williams. "Tell me of my Frank, whether you know anything or not," said Mrs. Smith. The man's eyes bad a wild stare in them, bis face was rigid, and he said, with a gasp, as if the words were jerked forth : "1 expect he's dead, I expect this is our Frank." "Of course this is your Frank, I met him at the hotel iti town, last evening, just on his way Dome. Tell me where 11 can find my Frank," returned Mrs. Smith. "I expect, I think," said the man, "that he is dead," and be fell to the floor. Jane Smith fainted, and Mrs. Williams fell Into another swoon, and Mona Liza ran mad, and shrieked one shriek after another, and wrung her hands, and tore her beautiful, sunny curls by turns. And Frank was bewildered, and fcnew not which to approach first, or where his services were most needed; and he ran about like a wild man, first to one, and then to another of these poor, suffering creatures. He lifted his mother from the floor and laid her upon a lounge, and he lifted Miss Smith and laid her upon a bed; and they began soon to snow signs of consciousness; and then he examined his father, and ascertained that he was paralyzed. He then approached Mona Liza, and said, "Be calm. We know nothing yet certainly in regard to this matter. You see the situation that my father is in; he may have stated the matter truly, and he may not. He has been in a very strange situation. Frank may be dead and he may not. We will ascertain the truth at the earliest possi? ble point of time. And now, I wish you to be calm, and do what you can for these afflicted people, while I summon the neighbors and call a physician." i rank went to the barn, saddled a fleet horse, and threw himself into the saddle, and set out for the village on a wild gal? lop. As he passed the nearest neighbor's house he called, and requested them to go to Mr. Williams' and assist in waiting on the sick ones. They promised to at? tend the call, and Frank, remembering the fatal mistake that had occurred?the fatal similarity between his cousin and himself, pulled off his coat and drew down his hat over his eyes, and as far disguised-himself as was practicable in the haste required ; for he believed that what was done to alleviate his father must be done soon. Dr. Wilson was a man sixty years of age, but his natural force was not abated?in truth he was a stouter man than he had been at thirty; and soon, very soon, be was by the par? alyzed man. Ellen was moving about again, and the Doctor said: "Yon know, Mrs. Williams, that your husband cannot bear excitement. He has had some terrible shock. What has he met with to throw hfm into this con? dition?" "Do you not know," faltered the wo? man, with white lips, "that our Frank has come home ?" "Your Frank has come home," said the doctor. "Then who was that man that we buried a few days ago?" "He was a cousin?the son of my hus? band's brother." ? "A precious se| of fools we have all been," returned the doctor. "We have been more than fools," re? plied Mrs. Williams, "we have been wicked. We were guilty of a great wrong toward that poor boy, that fled to us from his Virginia home. And he is dead, and it can never be righted." The paralyzed man appeared a little better toward evening, he breathed more freely, and manifested some slight con? sciousness, and Mrs. Smith and Mona Liza had become quiet and Mrs. Wil? liams was attending to her sick husband, in apparent health, and Frank began to make his toilet, thinking to call on Eli nore Marsh. "Please do not leave us this evening," said his mother. "Why, mother, I must see Nellie; you know that I must," replied Frank. "Please defer your visit till to-morrow; at least you can do that much," pleaded his mother. "Mother," said Frank, "you have some reason that I do not understand for your persistence. What is it? Do you think that father is worse ?" "No," replied the woman, "I think father will be up and about in a few days." "Tell me, mother, please, at once, why you do not wish me to see my betrothed this evening," said Frank, walking up close to his mother. The mother's face was as white as a lily leaf; her eyes were unnaturally bright; her hands worked nervously, but she did not answer him. "Are you sick, mother ?" said Frank, laying his hand on the braided bands encircling the beautiful head, and caress? ing her. She burst into teers, and wrung her hands in a weak, helpless manner. ftWill you not answer me, mother? You certainly can have no aversion to Nellie, my own Nellie. You told me once that you could receive her- as a daughter." "0, Frank, Frank, please give her up; please cease to love her," wailed the mother. "Preposterous," cried Frank. "You surely cannot be serious, mother. Cease to love Nellie 1 I could not do that if I would; and I would not if I could. My dear mother, my love for Miss Marsh is part of my heart?part of my life." "0,1 am so sorry; I regret that it is so," said his mother. "Remain with us just this day out, please, my son." "Mother, darling mother, my good lit? tle mother, I could do almost anything in this world for yon. I will even under? take to surround the North Pole at your bidding, but this I cannot, mother mine. I must see my betrothed, almost my wife. My first duty is to her, and mother dear, your request appears to me absurd." "0, if you will not wait , I shall be compelled to acquaint you with the dreadful truth," shrieked the agonized woman. "0 tell him, Jennie, I never can," she said, turning to Mrs. Smith. "Will you," said trank, "inform me, if you know, why my mother is so dis? tressed ?" "I know," said the pale, suffering wo? man, "why she wishes you to refrain from visiting Miss Marsh. "Will you please speak out plainly ?" said Frank, "and do away with this sus? pense? I never could bear suspense with equanimity in my life." "There is no more a Miss Marsh to love or cherish," said Mrs. Smith, "they tell me." "Dead!" whispered Frank, shivering as with an ague. "Married 1" said the womau. "6, my God, hast thou, too, forgotten me," shrieked Frank, while the warm blood flowed from his mouth and nose, and his face wore the ashen hue of death. The women laid each a hand upon him, and fain would have spoken words of consolation, but the ear was deaf, and the lips mute, after that one wild cry, and the strong man seemed turned to stone. They summoned aid, laid him upon a couch, and still they continued to summon aid, tor the man that had faced an armed host unflinchingly, and had not quailed amid the fearful rain of death-dealing balls on the dead field of blood-red slaughter, seemed to be slain by the falsehood of woman. The good old Doctor was in requisition again; and for ten days and nights Frank was sick with bruin fever, and in the delirium, he cried out, time after time, hour after hour: "They have all forgotten mu?they havo all forgotten mc; God h*< forgot? ten me. I am bereft; I am abandoned ; I am undone." Jane Smith, in her deep sorrow, made every effort in her power to alleviate his sufferings; and Mona Liza wiped the foam from his lips, with her own fair hands, and bathed the face of the un? conscious man with the briny tears born of her utter woe; and strong mon from far and near, hearing the wild story of the mistake and its fearful results, gath? ered about the suffering man, and labored and prayed for his restoration. And Frank?our Frank?lived. He awoke one day out of sleep and said, "Where has it flown to?" "Where has what flown to ?" said the Doctor. "Oh," replied Frank, "the ftngel that hovered about me, upholding me. "It is not far away. It will come back soon," said the Doctor. "Bid it stay, Doctor," said Frank, "bid it stay near me, lest I die." "I will, I will," replied the Doctor. And Frank slept again, quietly as a babe, and soon, very soon, our Frank was well aud strong again. CHAPTER V. LOOKING UPON THE DEAD?AND VARI? OUS OTHER MATTERS. Jane Smith persisted in her determi? nation to look upon the corpse of the man t hat had been laid away so long; for she said, "It is just possible that it is not my Frank that was buried, and I will never accept the testimony of others. I will see with my own eyes what thing has been done." And men were gath? ered together one week after the funeral to raise and open the coffin, that she might look upon what was within. AH vainly they tried to dissuade her. The women told her again and again, that she ought to be, and might be en? tirely satisfied with the evidence before her, that it was none other than her nephew, for he himself had asserted that he was no other than Frank Williams? son of Francis and Mary Williams, of Virginia. And they even sought to deter her Dy frightening her. They said that if she and Mona Liza dared to look upon a body that .had been put away such a length of time, they would surely die. "We are both prepared to die, she re? plied. And the work went on, and the coffin was opened, and with dry eyes and un? faltering quiet they both looked upon the clay of the loved one. And Jane requested them to remove the stocking from the right foot of the corpse. "For, said she, "my Frank had lost the small toe of the right foot." The men obeyed her, and they saw that it was even as she bad said, the toe had been removed when he was a child. When she saw that foot, she said: "That was my Frank, my beautiful and loyal-hearted Frank. Lower the coffin again, and spread dust over dust," and it was done. The bereaved women remained at Thos. Williams' home for many months. They bad abandoned the South. And when our Frank passed out of the sick room, and looked about him again, and took up the burden of life, he saw Mona Liza. And he looked at the beau? tiful woman, with her eyes of light, her full, flowing curls, thrown back from her polished brow, her cheek like ivory with a rose crushed upon it, and her lithe, faultless form, and her graceful step, light and free, like the fawn's in its na? tive wildness, and thought that he had never looked upon a more lovely woman. He did not except even the loved and lost, Miss Marsh. And there was about Miss Smith a pensiveness born of her sorrow that enhanced her loveliness. And he said within himself, just as the other Frank had often said, "She is every inch a queen." But when he spoke to her he said nothing of all this, bnt he said, "Miss Smith, 1 have been thinking of your great sorrow, and I have thought, again and again, that it is so much more endurable than my own that I could even exchange with you and gain by it, if exchanges in such matters were possi? ble. My good, true cousin lived and died loving you truly, faithfully. And? The love where death has set his seal, Nor time can change nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow. You even have something to be proud of in your utter bereavement. I can realize what your sorrow must be. I think I can, for all my life I have longed for a brother, and I have lost my brother. For I feel that as a brother I could have loved my cousin. In truth I have felt utterly unable to bear that great loss." "I have had just such thoughts," re? plied Mona, "as you have entertained in regard to my sorrow in regard to yours. I have thought that your sorrow is so much lighter than my own. There is nothing of gloom in your sorrow. Nel? lie is alive and happy, and you can see her if you choose. True, sue is lost to you as a wife, but Nellie was never false. Your sorrow was the result of the great mistake of Mr. and Mrs. Williams.? They claimed your cousin as their son, and she was deceived. She thought that you were false and that she was jilted. She was at heart true as steel, for she loved your cousin, even when under the mistaken idea that be was the man that she had loved and promised to marry. Miss Marsh was to be pitied, not cen? sured, for doubtless sbo suffered much. And she married rashly and in haste, to repent, perhaps, at leisure." "Oh, said Frank, "I think you are in error there. I think that Nellie cannot f)ossibly repent her marriage, for her msband is one of a thousand. He is a prince among men. If there is a man upon earth that I could have given the the woman I loved as my life to, he is that same Mr. Brown that she married. Yet I think that if Nellie had died, I be? lieve I could have borne that better than this." "0, Frank," said Miss Smith, "any? thing but death. Deariy as I loved Frank, I could have sent him to marry another woman, rather than borne this, and I could have smiled. But it is so hard to think of Frank, cold and dead. 0, it is all gloom, gloom." "And I have temptations, too," said Frank. "Sometimes I feel like wresting Nellie from her husband." "Would she be your Nellie, the Nellie of old ?" said Mona. "Never, never," replied Frank; "Nel? lie is as truly and entirely lost to me as if dead." "Let her be buried, then," said Miss Smith. "[ will, I will," said Frank. * * * "And to-morrow," he continued, "we will plant some flowers on that loved one's grave." And when the morrow was come they two went together to plant flowers upon the grave. And they sat down beside the grave and conversed about the spirit world, and wondered if the man who had been so loved in life, whose memory was so precious, could know, in his far-way home, of their love and their griofs. Thomas Williams slowly but surely struggled back again to a good degree of health. And then he and Mrs. Williams i and the good old Doctor talked over the whole matter in regard to the dreadful mistake?the fatal mistake?that they had made, and the bitterness that it had brought to many; and they bowailed themselves and deplored their cruelty to the beloved and beautiful dead. They remembered the watcfi that so annoyed him, that he begged them to remove, even in the hour of dissolution, the hu? miliating handcuffs, and they said : ' God may forgive us but we never can forgive ourselves. We shall go mourning to our graves." Jane Smith did not repine in her sor? row j but she fell into a habit of saying, "My life is over; my Work is do?e; And she was a mournful, shadowy thing, with her white, unsmiling face, and her slender hands. There are some wrongs too deep, and some sorrows too bitter to be spoken of in this world, and such were those of that household. They rarely spoke of the past; . The world does not stop when our loved ones die, or deal treacherously, and the sun shines just as brightly over the grass-grown fraves and lettered marble, as over the ridal procession?the blessing and blest. And there will be, while we live, a round of going, coming, buying, selling, eating, drinking, and such like little things, that make up life. And all these people bear firmly and quietly their life-burdens; and we, looking at them, will fail to sec their riven hearts. One day, soon after Frank's return home, Mr. Brown heard the dinner-bill ringing, peal after peal, at an inoppor? tune hour. lie listened, and heard half a dozen persons shouting his name at the top of their voices. He was quite a distance from his house, and he was alarmed and said: "Surely there is fire out, and human beings perishing in the flames/' and be ran toward the increasing din, in fear and trembling. The little colored help met him at the yard-gate, and said: "Miss Nellie be a dyin'. sir." "'Miss Nellie dying,'" said the hus? band ; and he fiew, rather than ran, into the house, and found his wife pale, faint, and trembling from head to foot. "What, 0 what is this that has hap? pened to my pearl of pearls, my darling," cried the husband. "Speak, 0 speak, my love, my life I" "Oh, Frank has come back," said Nellie. "Frank come back," said the husband. "I thought Frank was dead and buried. I was not expecting him back." "Nor I," said Nellie; "but he was never dead. We were all mistaken." "You were all a precious set of fools, then," said Mr. Brown. "That's just what we were," replied Nellie. The husband sat down and thought a little while, and then said: "My wife, I love you more than anything else in the world, more than everything else, more than I do myself, but 1 love you unself? ishly ; and I will do anything possible to {>romote your happiness; and if you still ove Mr. Williams, and he still loves you. I will give you a divorce quietly, and you can marry him. I will do even that, if it breaks my heart and costs me my life." "0! 0!" shrieked the wife, "don't talk so; you will drive me mad." "O! 01 01 You don't want a divorce, then?" said the husband. "Want a divorce I No! everlasting nol" shrieked Nellie. "Well, am I to understand by that that you love this old curmudgeon a mite or two?" queried Mr. Brown. "0,1 love you all, all, and no one else at all." "Not even Frank?" said the husband. "Not even Frauk," replied Nellie. "And if I ever did love him it was so long ago that I have forgotten it." "Well, you have me, and profess to love me; what is the trouble ?" said Mr. Brown. "0, I was frightened. I was afraid that you would cast me off," returned Nellie. "Cast you off, child. Nothing in the world could induce me to cast you off, unless it were your wish," returned the man. "What a ridiculous idea you did hunt up, my darling, to distress you." "But you never said so much about your love for me before," said Nellie. "Whj, no, I suppose not. I am a quiet man?perhaps too much so. I think very many nice things that I never tell. But let me tell you, Nellie, once for all time, that a host of armed men could not take you from me. And I do hope that Frank will not be unhappy." and the husband returned to his work, and Nellie said: "He is so noble, so good and true. God has blessed me in a hus? band," and thus it was. Days, weeks and months came and went, and those two, who had been stricken down together in sorrow, and had been companions in grief, learned slowly, but surely, that they were neces? sary to each other. Frank was unhappy when away from Mona Liza, and she was restless when Frank was gone. Jane Smith marked the growing attachment between them, and smiled a sad, weary smile, and whispered "that is as it should be. My life is over, my work is done." And when one day Mona Liza went to to her, and said, "Aunty, dear, would it be right for me to love our Frank, and marry ?him, and be happy, when my Frank lies cold in his grave?" "Can you recall the dead ?" said Jane Smith. "Oh, no, aunty, if I could have done that I should long ago," said Mona. "Can you die with the dead?" said the woman. "Without sin? No. I should be a suicide were I to die now," Mona re? plied. "Well, then, it is your duty to live with the living," said Jane Smith.? "Send Frank to me." "Frank came, and the woman said: "Is the old love dead ?" "Burned to ashes long ago," replied the young man. "Much as I suffered, there remains no scar." "And you love this beautiful child of my heart," said the woman. "I more than love her?I love and worship her. She was the angel that hovered about me in that dark hour, and saved me." "I give her to you," said the woman. "My life is over, my w?rk is doue." And the day of the bridal came, and wedding bells pealed, and brave men and fair women passed into the old church, und looked at that man and woman pledge themselves to each other for life, and it was a day of rejoicing far and near; for the strange story of their woes had been told and retold till every child had learned it by heart for miles around; and every heart of flesh rejoiced at the happy union, that promised peace. And again Jane Smith said, "My life is over, my work is done." A few days after the marriage of Frank Williams and Mona Liza Smith, Frank entered the room where Jane Smith was sitting, with a new light in his eye, and a joyous smile upon his lip, and he sat down beside her, and said: "Are we to infer from the fact that we find you unmarried, that you disapprove of marriage ?" "Far from it," replied Jane. "I con? sider marriage a duty, a responsibility devolving upon human beings." "Then, why do you not marry?" "O, Frank," she cried, "you have gone mad, surely. Why, man, I am forty five." "0, no, I am not mad, but speak the words of truth and soberness when I say that if you are sixty-five, and find some I good man that wants you, and needs you, why not marry him?" said Frank. "Why," replied Jane, "it would seem so strange for a maiden lady of my age to get married." "I grant all that," said Frank, "but str?nge things do happen. Nine days' wonders occur^ and still the world moves; and I have said all this because I have found a good man, that! love, that wants you and needs you; and 1 ask you to give me your solemn promise that you will act the lady, once in your life?just this once." "As if I had not been a quiet lady all my life," returned the woman. "?, I mean in regard to this one mat? ter," explained Frank: "I promise," said she. Frank wellt away, and in the course of half an hour returned, attended by a noble look? ing, though bronzed and weather-beaten man of fifty or fifty-five years of age, whom he presented, saying: "Miss Smith, Mr. Thompson." The blood all receded from Jane Smith's lips, cheeks and brow, and she grasped a chair for support; for there before her stood the lost love of her youth. And the roan took up the thread of their lives just where it bad been broken, and said: "I hayc come again, Jennie, darling; an evil fate parted us and kept us apart a long time, hut we meet again." And thcoe two are passing down the stream of time hand in hand, and their tardy marriage seems to have renewed them in every feature. They are so hap? py that they have a happifying influence upon all who meet them. THE END. HOW VISITORS TALK ABOUT US. Ol>H0rvationn of the Vlalting Vintlculturlxt? an Outlined by Col. Alken. SUMTEB. ?,#...#??# Speaking of Sumter they say: "This town of about 2,500 inhabitants is situa? ted immediately upon the Wilmington, Columbia and Augusta Railroad, forty miles from Columbia, one hundred and thirty-five from Wilmington, N. C., and one hundred and forty from Charleston ; it has many local advantages, and is surrounded with a growth of trees inex? pressibly beautiful, while its tasteful flower gardens fill the air with a fra? grance that reminds us of the fairy land. The kind and hospitable treatment wa received at the hands of the citizens was characteristic of that old and noted ref? utation of South Carolina." Perhaps no part of the State impressed this commit? tee more favorably as a grape growing section thau the High Hills of Santee, and they were equally well impressed with the water power, timber and soil. From Sumter the committee went to Florence, aud thence to Society Hill, of which.they speak as extravagautly as they do of Sumter, and reiterate their praises of the hospi tality of the people, both black and white. ***** From Society Hill they went to CHERAW, and there believed they had found a ha? ven of rest. Within the vicinity of Cheraw they saw a turpentine distillery, and were very much pleased with this, to them, new and strange industry. They were particularly struck with the tall, limbless pines, with nothing but "top? knot of long, busby pine straw." COLUMBIA. From Cheraw our visitors came back to Columbia, and we can best express their impressions by using their own lan? guage, to wit: "There are many places and many things of exceeding great in? terest in and around, this capital of the State of South Carolina; it needs greater descriptive powers than we possess to portray the beauties of this lovely city. Once and so recently marred and dis figured by the ruthless hand of war, it has risen from its ashes, and is to-day unsurpassed for ber.uty of locality, resi? dences and healthfulness of climate, by any town or city of the same size, that we have ever seen." They speak quite accurately of the public buildings of the city, and give somewhat in detail a statement of the taxes, appropriations, especially for the free schools, and our system of adminis? tering the State Government. The wa? ter power of the canal is highly com? mended. ***** Newberry was their next place of halt? ing for a night, and they were most favorably impressed there with the change in the country from what they bad already seen, and were particularly impressed with the iucreased area of small grain as they advanced up the Greenville and Columbia Railroad, and with beautiful clover patches seen on all sides. The free and easy, open and can? did manner in which they were met, too. by the citizens, particularly touched them. They say: "Newberry U the county sent, and centrally located in a county of the same name; it has a pop? ulation of about 1,500, equally divided between the two races. Churches aud school-houses are numerous, and one Srominent building in the town is the lUtherau College, which now has seventy scholars." ABBEVILLE. ***** "On the 18th April we visited quite a rolling country, ten miles north of Cokes bury, on Saluda River, where we found on that river a grand water-power, only utilized in turning an old-fashioned over? shot wheel for a flour and grist mill. This river is 600 feet wide here, never freezes, seldom less, even in summer, than 500 feet width of water, never over? flows, and, in a distance of one mile, has a fall of 100 feet. The location for fac? tories is here unsurpassed; lauds cheap, climate and water superior." On the 19th April the committee visit? ed the Savannah side of Abbeville coun? ty, and were much pleased with what is known as the Flat Woods country. They were held enchanted when they entered the yard and saw tue remains of the old house in which John C. Calhoun was born ; and when they visited the family burying-ground, and saw with what care every grave had been preserved, and the monuments erected by the munificence of Calhorn himself, they were struck with a silent admiration. Of the Flat Woods they say: "This whole country is a delightful location for a colony ; the soil is dark gray mulatto; composed of disintegrated granite with a clay base ; the couutry is rolling and easily cultivated and productive; a large portion of this land is now ready and at ouce available for cultivation and im? provement. AXDERSO.V. "This County is blessed with a fence law, which, depriving it of those dilapi? dated fences and briery fence corners, gives it an appearance of thrift that makes it very attractive. The Court House, or county scat, is centrally loca? ted, and is surrounded by a fine, rolling country that seems more productive than what we have heretofore seeu. The alti? tude of this County, its perfect climate and healthfulness, its productive soil, its splendid water, all contribute to make it the banner County of the State for agri? cultural purposes. No place that we have ever sner. presents more induce? ments to the onargetic, industrious im? migrant than Anderson County, whether he wishes to grow the vine, fruit, small grain, corn or co:ton, and we were told tobacco grows well In that soil and cli? mate." WALHALLA. They speak thus of Walhalla: "It is a long town, with but few cross streets, and has about one thousand population, nearly one-haif of whom are Germans. It is located at the present terminus of the Blue Ridge Railroad, in a country heavily timbered with hard wood; the soil is dark red, and seems productive; but a small proportion of the county, in which Walhalla is, is under cultivation, and thousands of acres of its lands are offered at very low prices. The climate must be especially fine, for It is just at the edge of the Blue Ridge, and is per? ceptibly cooler than the lower portions of the State." GREEN VII.I.i:. The next point to which the commit? tee wended their journey was Greenville, where they say the same cordial welcome was given them by the citizens. Through the Kindness of the Mayor they were enabled to see the surrounding country as far as Paris Mountain, and to visit the factories of the town. Here they met with a Swiss family that impressed them with the ease with which a living can be made in that portion of South Carolina, for, say they in their report, "here we met a German-Swiss family, the parents and eleveu children, who have, by their own industry, secured themselves a home of five acres of land, upon which they have a good vegetable garden, strawber? ries, a vineyard, and are making a good living." They moreover Bay: "This town, with her water-power and factories and railroads and street cars, is certainly, thriving, and will be, ere long, quite a popular city." SPARTANBURG. From Greenville, the committee went to Spartanburg, from which place they visited the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, and were impressed with the proficiency of the scholars. They were then taken to some of the factories and water powers in the vicinity of the town. As they say in their report, we repeat here: "Why should this not be the most flour? ishing section in the United States?" We can see no reason why, and really believe it will be at uo distant day, if we can induce a tide of immigration of the proper kind of inhabitants, and this we certainly can do if the citizens will only wake up to the necessity of doing some thing for themselves, and not wait for others to come and do it for them. From Spartanburg the committee went into North Carolina, as far as the bead of the Spartanburg and Asheville Rail? road, spent a pleasant night there with a Northern man who has settled here with? in the past five years, and returned to Spartanburg, and after returning thanks at a public meeting to the citizens for their kindness and unbounded hospital? ity, they left for Washington City. SUMMARY OF THE STATE. Summarizing their report, the commit? tee say: "We should be recreant to the duty imposed if we did not express our heartfelt thanks for the many tokens of kindness and hospitality bestowed upon us during our journey. We knew of the proverbial characteristics of the South? ern people, but were unprepared for such continued manifestations of good will; and the warm welcome we met with everywhere, aud from all classes, will never be forgotten. - "In closing this report we submit what we believe to be the advantages South Carolina presents to the industrious, fru? gal immigrant, come whence he may. The geographical position of the State is peculiar and most favorable. Lying immediately under the mountains, with a broad southeastern seacoast, the climate is luxurious. Spring and autumn are delightful; winter short and never ex? cessively cold, summer warm but never oppressively hot for a continued length of time. The forests are inexhaustible, and the open but uncultivated lands are counted by the thousands of acres. The virgin soil is rich, and much that has been worn out can be easily reclaimed. The products are all that will grow in the temperate zone, and with many of the vegetables, especially the Irish po? tato, two crops can be easily grown in one season. On the southern coast are almost inexhaustible beds of phosphates that are in valuable fertilizers. Railroads traverse the State in every direction, only two counties being without them out of the thirty-three counties in the State. A Case oe Circumstantial Evi ! deuce.?Nearly a year ago a wealthy merchant named Rozier was robbed and murdered near Sparta, Go., whilst on his way from his store to bis residence in the evening. The body was alleged to have been discovered by the town mar? shal, a man named Griggs, and two com? panions, named Lovett and Barnes. It was found that Mr. Rozier had been struck on the head with some blunt in? strument, which bad crushed in without breaking the skull. The stories told by the three men did not agree, supposed inconsistencies were detected in them, and the suspicion was excited that Griggs and his friends were themselves the mur? derers, and a number of circumstances having been adduced calculated to estab? lish the guilt of the prisoners, they were convicted and sentenced to death. The enforcement of the penalty has been postponed from time to time, mainly through the earnest, devoted efforts of Marshal Grigg's wife, who has persisted in avowing her conviction of her hus? band's innoceoce. Her pleading in? duced an experienced detective to take hold of the case, aud it is now tolerable certain that the murder was committed, not by the condemned men, but by the roughs attached to a circus that was at the time playing in the neighborhood. Mr. Rozier was known to have had a valuable watch and revolver in bis pos? session, and these could not be traced. The watch has now been recovered, and everything points to the certainty that the murderers were the circus men against whom suspicion has for some time been directed. The Family of Jefferson Davis. ?Mrs. Davis is described as being at present a very stout, very intelligent and very amiable-looking woman. Her face is round, she has a large and expansive mouth and black hair, streaked with gray. She is kindheartcd, and is said by a correspondent of the Chicago Times to be much liked in Memphis, especially by and looks very old and broken down. Their eldest daughter, a gentle and grace? ful young woman, is married and lives in Memphis. They have two other children, oue girl of sixteen, now at school in Ger? many, and the other, a young man, now in Memphis, Jefferson Davis, Jr. He is about twenty-two years of age, and has bis mother's large, not handsome, face, and is an awkward, loquacious, good natured sort of an overgrown boy. The Davis family is comparatively poor now. How often do we hear a person say, there must be something the matter with my blood, I have pimples all over. We would recommend Dr. Bull's Blood Mix? ture. Mr. Davis is very thin, LEGAL ADVERTISING.--We arc compelled lo require Cash payments for advertising ordered by Executor?, Administrators and other fiduciaries and herewith append the rates for the ordinary notices, which will only be inserted when the money comes with the order: Citation*, two Insertions, ? - ? ? ? $3.00 Estate Notices, threo insertions, ? ? 2.00 Final Settlements, fire insertions - - 3.00 TO CORRESPONDENTS.?Jn order to recelre attention, communications must he accompanied by the true name and address of the writer. Re? jected manuscripts will not be returned, unless the necessary stamps arc furnished to repay the postage thereon. *3~ We are not responsible for the views and opinions of our correspondents. All communications should be addressed ^"Ed? itors Intelligencer," and all checks, drall.?, money ordors, Ac, should be mode parable to the order of E. B. MURRAY A. CD., ^_^_^m_Anderson. S. C. FISH CULTURE. An Int.?re-tin^ Article from a DiKllnciiiitli ed Scientist. From the Columbia Rcginter. "Fish are so prolific" says the distin? guished naturalist Buffbn, "that if the product of a pair of herring could be protected, in twenty years they wouW fill a space as large as the earth." Logan, in bis history of the upper part of South Carolina, describes the streams as so crowded with herring, that the water wasscarce visible. Naturalists say that no herrings were ever found in oar streams, and that the word shad should be substituted for that of herring. Some forty, or less years ago, it was customary for wagons lo come from a distance of forty or more miles to the Seneca and other tributaries of the Savannah to lay Th shad for provision for the year. We have knowledge of tbe abundance of that fish within the period mentioned. Now, for years, it is seldom that a shad is seen on our tables. It has become so great a rarity, that if they are procured at all, they must be purchased at railroad de? pots, brought from below on ice. We are informed that the catch in Seneca this season has been nul. Migratory fish ascend rivers from the seas and Beek spawning grounds in the upper tributaries, where tbe water is cool, rapid and well aerated. The young fish (the shad requires three days to emerge from the egg) soon acquire vigor enough to descend to tbe sea, where they disappear, return the ensuing sea? son, instinctively to tbe identical spot where born, and again go tbrongh tbe process of replenishing the waters. If the streams are obstructed by dams, wires, or other impediments, such as saw dust from saw mills, which are common on our streams, the dust enters tbe gills and kills the fish. Chemicals in solution, such as sulphate of iron and sulphate of copper, arising irom th 3 de? composition cf cupriferous pyrites, ren? der tbe waters as barren ol life as the Dead Sea. Fish are in vigorous health in tbe spring, when animals emerge from win? ter poor in flesh, unhealthy, and unsuit? able food for man. The Catholic hierarchy, ever watchful over the well being of the faithful, make the season of Lent one of fasting, and all animal food is prohibited and fish substituted. The same diet is prescribed for Fridays and perhaps other religious days. This observance dates back to the remote history ot the church. Before the march of science and civilization (for they are cotemporary, and the latter dependent upon and subservient to tbe former,) had installed rapid transit, the service (in Catholic countries) for sup? plying fish to inland cities was as rapid as that which carried the mail, and on large estates fish ponds were common for breeding and rearing fish, not only for the inmates of the chateau, but the la? borers as well. The requirements of tbe church were under the surveillance of the parish priest. It is questionable whether any culti? vated portion of the earth's surface can be made to yield, on equal acreage, as much food as water. It is known that the brain contains free, uncombined phosphorus, which is also common to fish, and it has been re? marked that those who worked tbe brain most generally manifested a proclivity for fish diet or-brain food. * Much has been written and practiced on pisciculture, since tbe discovery of artificial incubation of fish eggs. The habits of these prolific denizens of the sea and fresh water have been closely investigated, and tbe art is now become one of national and individual import? ance. Malthus wrote and predicted that the exuberance of man's production would, at some future, surpass the posi ble supply of food. That author in his calculation disregarded the unknown power, tbe vast ocean, where nature is collecting and reserving the seed of vitality, which is daily escaping from cultivated lands. At all events, Malthus' prediction of the destiny of the human race is stayed, for a time, through the. aid of science, which shows itself ade? quate to the situation,' in the aid of na? ture, in the production of human food. Seth Green, of New York, is one of the pioneers in that branch of practical science, and justly honored for his emi? nent services in the art of increasing and cheapening tbe production of human food. It was our pleasure and satisfaction to see within the last month our distin? guished friend, Professor Baird, the eminent naturalist, now United States Commissioner of Fish and Fisheries. We learned from him that he had ii_.re? duced new and more certain practice in the art of artificial incubation of fish. Instead of using the ordinary water of running streams, which always contains more or less sedimentary matter, which collected upon the eggs and destroyed their vitality, he now substitutes pure or filtered water. The eggs or spawn are placed in suitable constructions, which are immersed in pure water, depending upon steam power to give agitation and aeration, thus vivifying and saving from destruction a larger proportion of tbe eggs than by the older method, which was a vast improvement upon nature. Professor Baird has brought the Cali? fornia salmon, and is introducing them into our rivers which empty into tbe Atlantic. That fish, Professor B. in? forms us, is independent of the tempera? ture of tbe water, whereas the salmon which comes from the rivers in Maine will not live in the waters of Southern rivers. We saw a fine specimen of sal? mon taken from the Delaware River. The fish was preserved in alcohol, and the eggs also, to show that it was pro? ducing. He had also a shad taken from the Chio, where, previous to artificial production and planting, no shad were known. The carp from the Danube, a superior edible fish, is now being pro? created, and is, or will soon be, distrib? uted to our different rivers suitable for its permanent existence; always pro? vided that laws be instituted and en? forced to prevent private cupidity from extinguishing the run and breed. TbeSavannah is claimed by the State of Georgia to low water mark nearly on the Carolina side; but the Savannah is under the jurisdiction of the United States, and cannot be turned or obstructed in the course of its waters, and is a natural highway for fish. Obstructions are Elaced in the river, at different points, y gill nets, which stop the run of fish, which, by Providence, belong to the Seneca and other tributaries of the Sa? vannah, which tributaries run through and belong to the State of South Caro? lina, and it would appear that all ob? structions preventing fish ascending are contrary to natural Taw, and should be abated as abuses and nuisances. T. G. C. An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure. A dose of Dr. Rull's Baby Syrup will assist your Baby in teething, and prevent it from being at? tacked by Cholera Infantum, Colic, or other dieases Babies suffer with. 25 cents.