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"ir* . t -mm gVOL. 2. Cjie^antliertt (gntrrprise, A REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS. A . waa>a?iL&?i i?t, ipiaa ga, cnrrnn ana pnnpnicTna 1 60, payable in advance ; $2 if delayed. CLUBS of FIVE and upwards $1, the money in every instance to aocompany the order. ADVERTISEMENTS inserted conspicuously at the rates of 76 cents per square of 8 lines, and fe lo'esnto for each subsequent insertion. ConSt tracts for yearly advertising made reasonable. LrtJsuwirD av t. t. price.] . $d?trtr $o?trtj. ^ 6 I) q P g c g. ^ Whom first we love, you know, we seldom wed. Time rules us olL And life, indeed, is not g&CThe thing wc planned it out whon hope was dead. S tE&> And then, we women can not cliooso our lot. v'^Thuch mutt bo borno which is hard to bear: Much given away which it were awcet to keep. God help us all! who need, indeed. Ilia carc. And yet> I know, the shepherd loves his sheep. My little boy begins to babble now Upon my knee his earliest infant prayer. He has his father's eager eyes, I know, And, the) -ay, too, his mother's sunny hair. But when he sleeps and smiles upon my knee, And I enh'feel his light breath come and go, I think of one (Heaven help and pity me!) Who loved me, and whom I loved, long ago. Who might have been ah, what I dare not think, ^ Wc are all changed. God judges for us best God help us do our duty, and not shrink, And trust in Heaven humbly for the rest But blame urnot, if some appear Too cold at times; and some too gay and light Some griefs gnaw daep. Some woes are hard to bear. Who knows the post ? And who can judge us right! Ah, were we judged by what we might liavo been, And not by what wc are, too apt to fall! My little child?he sleeps and smiles between These thoughts and tne. In Heaven wo shall know all! ? i 51. I^rpffir &tnnr ). [Written for Ballots tectorial.] I be of the ouot^idby j. b. cook. A Lorrr mountain rose before us, and after the toil of the day's travel seemed rather unwelcome, yet being desirous of seeing nature in our own New England, in her wildest forms, we were not disposed to turn back to the village, about five miles distant We commenced our ascent with as touch cour age as possible, hoping, before the deep darkness of night was upon us, we might D6 able to construct some rude shelter for the night, J among the rocks and crags on the mountain; the ruder, the more to our minds. Being each of us provided with a travelling sack, we had made some provision for the wants of nature, and were anticipating a fine relish for our evening meal, when an inci dent which put far from our minds all thcpPSs*>f self or weariness. A shriek, and tlB BBf female in distress * did vmi not biijr ft* Charles t Who can it be, and at thin'ajar, in such an unfreouented spot ? Hark! milt is again. We both turned our eyes in the direction of the sound, and through the dark mist beheld, on a lofty overhanging crag, the form of a female. William Motly?for that was my friend's name?was one of those impulsive beings who never wait'for a second thought, and, with one bound, was off and away, from sleep V9 svoep, to wNove, if ptpsible, the distress of one who, to us, seemed iti fiUC^ danger, \ little dreaming that our presence was the oause of stieh fright, as we afterwards learnmJt With great difficulty we succeeded in re&diing tpl&srock, often wondering liow it wft* posnibloAie could ever have gained, unassisted, so olmgerous a point Judge, then, of-our surprise when, on reaching toe summit, she wm no where to be found. We groped around, and wero on the point of giving up in despair, when I was nearly thrown to the ground by cuming suddenJ? upon the apparently lifeless form of her whom we sought, as she lay prostrate where n her fright, when attempt* WojTaised her from the ground, and end^t^2^^^^to^e^r^M^ciousne??, but to rw*> some *9* now wholly derCtSSflEd sleet was Wingjwhlch,to o*?fS?^Kuncomforta| ble. TJjbfiiat were wfe^lJw||h the fra Ate *" I MW?W? p GKEl gilo being who was thus providentially thrown upon our proteotionf We knew not where to go. We thought of the aching hearts that probably at tliat moment were mourning hcr<#bsence, orscearchingfor her. We nduressea ourselves in kinlv tones to her, but she heeded us not; she was con- ; versing with one who was invisble to us, but who alone occupied her thoughts. At last she commenced losing her favorite air : "O, Willie, tarry not so long; My heart is aching now 1" A voice 4p sweet, so plaintive, I had never listened to before, and when I would have spoken to niv companion, he seemed wholly unconcious of me, and only exclaim- i ed : Gracious 1 what do I hear 1 Am I mad ! What spell has come over me !' i Again that voice ; "How can I sing my evening song, When thou art far away !" What was there in that song that so affected my friend! Could it be bo had over heard it before, and that visions of past jovs were thus brought to his mind ? When the sweet sounds had died away, I felt that it was our duty, if possible, to find some shelter from the Chilly dampness of the night, though I knew not whither to go. ' A darkness that could almost be felt was ' upon us; hut to remain where we were was not to be thought of. We made an effort to lead our friend down the steep rocks; but she only said : 4 My Willie's not here now, and I must go alone.' And wo silent- ( ly followed, only knowing where sho was by the gentle rustling of the bushes, as she j passed along. At last the sound was no I T ? ? - ' lunger ucuru. v> e epoice, out spoke in vain; we called, no answer came. Again wo were bewildered ; we listened, not a breath save the moaning wind and storm. We gatherel some sticks and lighted a fire, and, with our simple torches, searched about to find . the fairy licing we had lost. At least I discovered a slight path, and following its windings, soon found myself at the door of a rude cave, which I was fully determined to enter, ^ not knowing but it was the abode of some wild beast that would meet me with anything but a welcome embrace. William was near, and with our torches wo lighted the rude hall, made in nature's roughest manner. We had not proceeded far, when we found the object of our search, standing like a statute of Rtone, seemingly parnlyzed with fear. Heretofore her palace had been sacred to herself ;"for five long years bad she reigned alone in that forest, and not once had been greeted by a human voice. Now the sound thntmet her ears seemed to awaken dreams of the past. She listened; her eye wandered from one to the other, as we addressed her ; but when William spoke, the change of countenance told a tale that words, at that time, could not tell. I had not known him long, therefore all to me was mystery ; not so with him, and unable longer to restrain his feelings, he sprang forward, and. . seizing her hand, exclaimed : ' Tell me, thou long lost idol of ray heart, do3t thou know ine once again! Thy Willie has come home ; speak, speak, and tell him thou art all his own j' She stood unmoved, and in a low monotonous tone soliloquized ! 4 Why has he staid so long ! One year, he said, was all, and then, O then, what joy would bo mine! But no ; the weary years have passed, and J am still alone.' He spoke again : * This is indeed too much ; how can I bear it! Mary, my own ; look, look upon my face, and see that I am come ! She raised her melting eyes, and said : 4 I dream, and hush ! did I not hear his voice ? did he not beckon mo and say,1 I come!' O yes; I knew he would be true !' and she elapsed her hands in ectncy of joy. 1 T was indeed a painful scene to me; reader do not think I could stand unmovod and witness that almost agony of iny friend, and that dreadful losa of reason in one so lovely, so true to him she held so dear. The night had nearly passed, and I proposed, with the early dawn, to go to the nearest villinge, procure a conveyance, and having taken the direction to her father's mansion, ?:occo^de immediately thither (a distance of about fifteen miles,) muu 'uiii' the glad tidings to those parents who had ldng mourned her as dead. As I have before said, wo were five miles trom the nearest village, and thither, with hurried ste)>s, I proceede, scarcoly having a thought save that of spetd, lest some unseen cloud might ? cover the bright vision that wholly absorb j cd me. ( Long before the sun reached its meridian t height, I drove ur> to the door of thepaternal mansion, and witn a trembling hand rung 1 the beU, Jt was answered by a servant, who 1 | ushered me in and to myi nquiry if Mr. and ( Mrs. Metcalfgrere in, replied they were, hot ? that he was now at the l?od*ide of his wne, I who was dangerously ill of fever. I gave I my card with the name of a stranger, but 1 solicited the attention of Mr. Metcalf for a I few moments, on business of utmost impor- i tanco. i He soon entered the parlor. I arose and ,1 introduced myself aa Mr. Charles Montagper 1 at the same lime making a sincere and heartfelt apology for thus intruding upon his lime I ENVIttt, S. C.j FR and attention at such an hour; and th aa delicately as possible, made known tl objectof ray mission. The father bow< his head and wept; the heart that was w< nigh bursting before codld throb in silen no longer. I sat "a silent witness of>Jltl scene; words, alas! are weak hfftuch i hour. Joy and grief sure mingled his cup. His first thought; when he cou express himself, was to fly to his belove and, before it was too late, unite the moth and daughter again on earth; but the flic ering lamp seemed too near its close, and was despatched with many blessings, whi he returned to the bedsiae of death, as * thought, were lib found his wife in a qui slumber, and as she slept, she breathed tl name Mary. The father knelt, and in eari est prayer, poured fourth his soul to Hi who watches over all, and giveth strength i all who ask it. While I was gone, preparations were g< ing on at the mansion, as far as practical) for our return. Mary's room was put in o der ; everything arranged as nearly as posi ble as when she left it, and a bright ligl stood on the table, with an open book bcsu it, as though it had been left but for a m mcnt. The piano, whose keys had nev< yielded to the touch of gentle fingers sin< she left, was opened, and one of her favori sirs placed upon it With what anxiet we thought of the effect the sight of horn would have on her mind. It was about ten o'clock at evening whe we arrived, and sho had not spoken durin :he ride, except an occasional murmur, an )f the name of Willie. As we drow ne? ter home, she grew restless, but we ventu id not to speak. At length we reached tl loor; she sprung from the carriage, like or ?t home; with one bound entered the houai ?nd stopped not till she had reached her ow oom. Her mother was again in sleep, after a tour of great distress, and we feared lest tl toise might disturb her. What could w lo I Mary's next thought might be of h< mother, and, with the swiftness of a faw the wbuld fly to embrace her. \1T * 1 ? 1 ' ' * >?b wuueu an nour; notning was lieai save her gentle step, as she walked abo her room. At last the father could rostra himself no longer ; he felt he must embra< lis long-lost child, jet much prudence w lecessarj. lie called a servant; reoueste lim to knock gently at the door, and, as i ormer years, present his wish to hear hi day and sing. O, who could tell,at tbatm nent the deep feelings of that father's hear Lie had taken his easy chair, which,for veai ia4 been his favorite seat, when listening I Iter song, and William, with his flute, place himself, as he was wont, behind her sea eady to accompany her in playing. Iler light step was soon heard on the stai ind in a moment more shfi stood before u obed in white* a picture of grace and low iness. The scene before us was a reallitv eason, for a moment, was restored, and m 'ather 1' was all she could sav. ere he cau<A V ? o~ icr in his arms, as she fell, fainting, to th loor. Wo bore her to her room, but were oblit id to call medical aid, before any signs < ife again appeared. Anon the delicat :int was seen upon the cheek ; it was bi "or a moment, and all was blanched agai ind thus it was for long and weary hour It seemed as if the casket was really brokei ind the jewel roust be lost O what a nigl n the memory of those who tarried beneat :hat roof! The physician obliged all to leave th oorn, whom she had ever seen before, an ihe was left in the care of a lady, who wx topping there, from a distant part of lli sou 11 try, while he remained in an adjoinin oom, that his assistance could be given i i moment's warning. Again the brokei learted father is at the couch of his wife he wakes, and smiles: ' 1 havo dreamed he said, " and Mary stood befor me." vas all sho could utter, and sunk into a f< reriah slumber. Thus passed the night; but the dawn < ho morning s^oroH to herald fcright< lopes; the crisis was past, and althoug here scarcely appeared sufficient strength t uipport life, yet now there was hope, and th lusband wed tearcs of gratitude. Let us now look in upon Mary. SI: niii !iee insensible ! she breathes, and thi s all we can say. Tho slightest change t ler might extinguish forever that little giiu nering spark. Thus she remained for nea y two days, when she opened her eyes, an with a look that gave hope to aching heart miled, as though conscious of being agai n her own dear home. The shock had ii leed been severe, but we itow felt that m j i .i- ? ; ? iun> wmuiu aavg iifHngin iu survive. Week# passed, and from William, wh ind remained at the mansion, I al$tost dail teard of the slow but gradual improvernet >f both mooter and daughter. Mary's re. ion wis restored, but she was yet as send ,ive as the delicate bare-bell that drops i he slightest touch. She was now able 1 :ear her father and William oonverse for ittle time, a* they sat by her; bat she ha tiQkjfC^p?Jjf? %er mother. She had bee jttj^ ^iiTiiT ."?* ?-i ~ <*** yw* ' IDAY MOPING, JUL" en tag. I will not attempt to describe the he scene. The mother bad mourned her child ed as dead, and knew not till the day previous ell that such was not the case. Now she bece held het, ^tad exclaimed: ' This my child he was dead and is alive again !' in A few evenings later and you might have in seen a liappy^ group in that parlor, whore Id sadness so long had reigned. I was ngain d, with them. Mr. Metcalf sat in his easy or chair; Mrs. Metcalf and Mary snt opposite k- on a lounge and William at her side, eager, I to catch every sound of her voice. At le length she turned'suddenly to him, and ask re ed: et 4 Will you not tell us now the story of ie sufferings, when we thought you were sepaa ted from us forever ? I have long wished to m know, but till now have not dared trust myto self to ask.' An unbidden tear moistened every eye, >- as William briefly told his story. It ran le thus: r- 4 Five years ago, as you well remembered, ii- our ship left its mooring bearing me on a bt proposed voyage to Europe, that I might, if le possible, regain my health, which had beo come somewhat impaired by too close appli-' er cation to study. I tried to feel cheerful, but :e a dark cloud hung over me. I had not suf to fered, as many do, from that horribio seatw .:~i. ?i.i-i -A- j v ?ivikii?a wuiku oo uiicii destroys tne pleae sure of a sea voyage, and was hoping, in a few days more, to welcome the shores of Enm gland,when a cry was heard that sent a pang S through every heart 4 It was at midnight, and the cry was loud ir and shrill: 4Fire, fire, fire 1* In a moment eye r- ry man was roused, and all that human powie er could do was fruitless, towards saving the ie ship. To sav$ life was now the only thought. 8, The boats were lowered and filled as rapidly n as possible, bat some were burfled, so as to be unsafe ; all could not be saved, if saved, in indeed, any might be in that way, and I, ie with many others, remained on deck, till the e la*t boat left the wreck, and then fastening sr myself to a spar, launched forth on the open n, sea, trusting alone to the mercy of Him who holdeth the waters in the hollow of his hand, rd Ask me not to describe the awful horrors of ut that night; fain would I blot them from the in tablet of my memory, and the shrieks and ce groans of those that were engulfed, as that as burning wreck went down,still ring in my ears, id O, merciful Heaven, spare me the rembrance ! n Of the fate of many of ray companions,I have cr never learned; but with the dawn of the o- morning I beheld a distant sail. It was t! outward bound ; I was discovered by them,la's, ken on board, and treated with all the kindto ness I could have asked, but must be borne id a long way from home, unless we should t, chance to meet some vessel homeward bound. tn a il ' * 1 ' 1 'i - v>aiuon was uio pori ior which iney were b, destined, and I must submit. After sailing a- two months we bailed a merchant ship on ; its return to Liverpool; they willingly received y mo on beard, and, to my great joy, I now it felt that my face was once more turned toe wards home. 4 Our voyage was prosperous, and in little J- more than two months we landed safely in ?f Liverpool. I waited not for rest, but that e night, mailed the first letter to 4 my dear it Mary,' since leaving the shores of Boston, n, It told all that wordt could tell, and the * hope that the next steamer would bear me n, again to my native shores. That letter it your parents received. When I returned, h you were not here, and all was blank. I felt, for a time, that life was wearisome to me, i6 and almost wished I had never known your d parente' grief. w 4 But now, ray own Mary, now that we are ie all happy together again, let us sing one of g our songs, as in days long past, before we it separat for the night.' ?- Reader, I will now tell you all that was >; known of Mary, after William sailed, until I,' the time our simple story commences. It An only child, tho idol of her parents, &- she was the light and joy of home, and their fear of the dangers of the voyage was the >f onlv obstacle in the way of her being mar? riou and accompanying her husband to Lull rope. He left, and she thought of the long o months before he would return ; but one ie year was the promised lime. How Kttle wc know or can dream of the fUture! >6 The first tidings they received was of the ?t total loss of the ship, as we have already o been told, and that many lives were lost. A i- list of tho names of those saved, as far as r- could be ascertained, was coven, but the d name of William Motly was not among s, them. Ma had been unusually cheerful a n few days before the arrival of this sad inteli ligence, as was almost bonrly expecting the ? promised and much wished ?for letter. The steamer came, but the letter came o nob What could it mean! And when by y the early despatches in the papers, she read it the awful tidings, sank into an insensible i- state, in which she remained for several h hours, and from that time until the evening it we brought her home, she had never been, ? heard to speak, except in low murmurs to ,d One morning, abouta month afUr^^^ in one of her hours of w W f it TB $0 A: V 27, 1855. deep despondency, she hud destroyed self. A few evenings after' the one in which William recounted his troubles, Mary said to him : 4 Can it be five years since you left us on that eventful voyage ! Is it indeed a reality ? To me it seems a long and troubled dream, from which I have been but a short time awakened, and as your look expresses a desire to hear, I will relate it. 4 All was bright with me after you left, and I was counting the days when I should hear from you; when I dreamed you were wrecked, thev told m?Jvnn wow> ln?? at first, I believed them. fiutsoon other tidings came to me. You called me; I heard your voice from the distant mountain, and thither I hastened to meet you. I knew you were not dead, for often I heard that voice, vet still you were nowhere to he found. I wandered, it seemed, long weary months in search of you, often climbing almost inaccessible rocks, that from their summits I might, if possible, see you in the distance. 1 At last, when, almost in despair,! climbed the highest crag nnd sung, in tones loud and shrill: 4 O, Willie, tarry not so long! You heard and answered in tho distance. My joy was so great that, for a time, my senses were l>?wi!dered, but atlAst, I became fully conscious you were near me, that I heard your pleading accents though, as yet I could not see you. Other remembrances are indistinct, compared with the all-absorbing thought of finding you. Sometime, hunger almost overpowered me, and then some fairy hand would bring the nicest berries and fruits, and when cold or weary, that little being would lead me to a place made by nature, and then leave me to repose. Thus mw my uremii. ai last t wokc ; you were standing by my bed-aide, and all was bright again.' The next morning being a lovely one in June, I proposed a ride, which was readily assented to by all, and we were off at an early hour. Our ride lay through a fine country, and we were all in excellent spirits when we came to the foot of the mountain. We left our carriage at the base, and commenced the assent As we proceeded, I observed Marry grew thoughtful, and disposed to say but very little. Iu a short time we came near the cave, when she bounded forward towards the entrance, exclaiming: 4 Here, hero is the place of my dream,and here let us spend the remainder of our days.' The thought was not an unpleasant one to William, and he was able, before the close of another year, to take her, as his wife, to one of the most beautiful homes in that region. The house was surrounded by fine walks and avenues; but tho little path to the cave was left untouched. An observatory was erected on that lofty crag where we had first seen her, and there in after years, trmilr) olio otf ^ 4' - nvum ous aII nun IMCIIU.1, 1?UU rupCMIi lue story of the 1 Maid of the Mountain.' ?111 There aro people in the world who physic themselves to death. We have known men to flee to pills for relief from every kind of ill. They had what may he called a pillmania. Some of those pill devourers would present a startling sum total, could they give in round numbers the amount taken during a life time. We recollect of one man, in the western part of New York State, the total of whoso pill taking was recorded as follows : In twenty-one years he took 225,934, which is at the rato of 10,900 per year , or twenty-nine per day day. lie began however, it would seem with a moderate appetite, which increased as he grew older ; for during the eight years proceeding his death of course he died?he swallowed pills at the rate of seventy eight per day ! In one year, just before he shuffled off his pill-coil, he took not less than 51,590 1 The most surprising part of the story is vet to bo told ; ill ulrlitinn (/i oil ilia rvillo oi?Af? > ... w Mil HIV JMMO nuviu ICWIUUUf the victim swallowed, at various times, some 50,000 botlie* of mixtures. These facts were obtained, we would add, from a respectable apothecary, near where our mcdicine-man.ac lived from boyhood to death, and who furnished him with all he wanted in his line. There is a question in our inind, whether the respectable apothecary, as aforesaid, was not an accessory to the murder of his profitable customer! for, that ho was murdered, would seem to be a fixed fact. What Real Courage Is.?It is real courage to wear old garmonia till vou can afford to pay for new ; to say no when ask ed to lend ' half a dollar' to even a suffering loafer ; to refuse to drink toddy when you are tip to an<* cars >n >l 1 to be honest w hen il ls moro profitable to be a knare; to do right.against the current ; to be. indifferent to groundless slander ; to remain unchanged by rosy compliments and girt edged solicitations of female beauty ; to walk in the ?*the of godliness,;,, when both feet'are pitched another way n to ao near a brilliant oyste* w*)oon at twoJW~llie morning hungry aa a bear, and,, n'fct go in ; to keep your patience with a chambermaid just from Ireland; to be a nun among fools; to do your duty if it takes yoa to the Almshouse. Try and see. V. V 4 I m>r I NO. II. ] ???????? 4 3trtrosting Jflisrtllomj. U'g fttl q|) Ireqto. They tell a story of the m^n who introduced the spinning-jenny into this country^ that after coining here nnd inducing certain capitalists to invest money in his enterprise, 1 A " ana auer gome on and getting machinery to* gether according to draughts which he brought from England, when it waa death by its laws to impart the secret hi other lands, he found that ho had forgotton how to adjust a part of the machine, and it would not work. Tie was almost mad with anxiety, nnd did not sleep for some nights. A panic took possession of the capitalists interested, nnd tliey would have sold out at half price. At length he fell asleep, and dreamed that the inventor of the machine in England caine and told him how to put together the unadjusted part, lie awoKe, and went and did as lie dreamed, and the machine was instantly put in motion. True or false, this 6tory is alike appropriate to our purpose. Suppose some one had come and said to him, 'O it's all a dream; it amounts to nothing,' could he not confidently point to his running factory, earning its thousand a week, and say, 'is that all a dicam t' So we may say of Christian experience,' Is that all a dream which produces these surprising transformations of personal character, these benificent results upon society!' By ita fruits be it known.?AT. Y. Chronicle. Btoelricqn ?icHIe3. Do not keep pickles iu common earthenware, as the glazing contains lead, nnd combines with vinegar. Keep pickles only in ston6 and wood ware. Anything that haa held grease will spoil pickles. v inegar lor pickling should be sharp, but not the sharpest kind, as it injuries the pickles. If you use copper, bell metal, or urtu?A. vessels for picking, never allow the vinegar to cool in tliem is poisonous. Add a table spoonful of nlumn and a tea-cup of salt to each three gallons of vinegar, and tie up a bag with pepper, ginger root, and spicea of all sorts in it, and you have vinegar prepared for any kind of common pickling. Stir pickles occasionally, and if they are soft ones take them out and scald the vinegar, and pour it hot over the pickles. Keep * enough vinegar to cover them well. If it it weak, take, fresh vinegar, and pour on hot. Do not boil vinegar or spice over five minutes. Eight of a clan of murderers known as Murrelites have been arrested in Georgia, and are imprisoned to await their trial. They are a portion of a band long infesting the conntry, who arc too indolent to work, and whose chief employment and characteristics arc to steal aud harbor negroes and commit other depredations somewhat similar to thoso of the notorious highwayman man from whom the band derives its nr me, but whose examples they have failed to imitate on a scale as extensive as that adopted by the renowned John A. Murrcl. Two others of of the band had been previously arrested, but the leader has not yet been taken. Never ask a lady for her heart and hand just before dinner. An ampty stomach is a poor basis on which to seek divinity, sunshine, and prospective population. The chances are, if you violate this rule, that, instead of a rose tinted, delicate yes, you will receive a startling, burning, Big no. Beware. IIenrt, believe you could once-command a large snm of money 1' 4 Not a bit of it?1 never could command it?it always commanded mc. Money, si*t?a;my ruination. Lend me a V., if you please.? I'd like to be ruined again, sli ghtly.' Female Piety.?The gem of all others which encircle the coroneffcf a lady's character is unaffected piety. Tf at tire may lavish much on her person?the enchantment of lie countenance?the gracefulness of ber mind or strength of her intellect ; yet her loveliness is uncrowned till piety throws around the whole sweetness and power of her charms. She then becomes unearthly iu her temper? unearthly in her desires and association. The spell which bound her affections to things below is broken, and sha mounts on the silent wings of fancy bod hope, to the habitation of God, where it w?H be her delight to hold communion with tha spirits that have baen ransomed from tha thraldom of earth, nn/t mronil.iwt ?.:?u - garland of glory. M'lle Rachel is to receive.il is said,for playing two hundred nights in America, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, besides all the travelling expenses of herself and ber suite are to be paid ! all the salaries V>f her chambermaids, and she is to have a carriage aud the requisite servants always at hev disposal. If there are the terms, KjU Felex's share of the profits will be small mdeed.?> There is but iittle dependence however to be plaoect upon these previous annoueements. They are done for effect and to cre! ate a public interest in the enterprise, fct ' the manager to turn to his profit.