The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, October 12, 1855, Image 1

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^ ?w? menses ^-' ?01. 2. GREENVILLE, S. C.: FRIDAY MORNISG, OCTOBER 12, lf?.r). ?' s. NO. 22. J ^nntlitru Enterprise, A. REFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS. IP. iP2aaj0r^ EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. >1 S<\ payable In Advance ; M I* delayed. CLUBS of FIVE *nd upwards <1, the money in afery instance to acco.uy.iiv Uife order. AlVVKRTiSKMKNTS inserted conspicuously at ~ the rata# of 76 ecnts per square of 8 lines, and S5 cent* for each subsequent insertion. Contracts for yearly advertising made reasonable. Lrvsuxften tr r. j. rsic*.] - .J?iiL;^ 1.1 . Irltrtrt l^attrq. Ihe lide of 3Q?^f i)The tide rolls 011, the tide rolls on,? , The nevor censing tide. That sweeps the pleasures from our hearts, The loved ones from our side,? Thnl brings affliction* to our lot, And auguisb and despair, And bears from youth's unruffled brow ' The charms that lingered there. The tide rolls on?wave after wave, Its swelling waters flow; Before it, all is bright and lair; Behind it all is woe ! The infant from it* mother's broast, The gay and glooming bride, Are swept awav and borne nlong By that resistless tide. Tlte tide rolls on-?the soldier's eye Grows ilim beneath its swell ; The scholar shuns tho mystic lore, Thai he hath loved so well; T*e monarch put* the crown aside, And labor'* weavy slave Rejoices that his limbs will know The quiet of the grave. The tide roll* on?like summer brook, It glideth to the sad ; But, like dark winter's angry tide, It rusheth to the glad. From kingly hall and lowly cot, From battle field and hearth, It sweep* into oblivion's sea The dwellers ou the earth. 1U41 On, Uiou dark and turbid waro, . Thou caust not bear away The record of the good and brave, That knowoth not decay . 1 Krktirvli tl/taMlo man vtuli fl??f Lilhwec1 af k-!fu W, ? I'Ffu^i* mviw mnj I MOM HIT MUivna ^ Though deep tliy current be, Still faith nhnll lift thy beacon high, And guide u* through thy 80a. Jftisrrllaatons Items. oir 6 olfqg e &ebofioi). BT VIRGINIA DE FORHEST. Anna Fwukr was a farmer's dauglibnt licr beauty might have been cvr'eted i,' * ^ony ?t'g'1 ,)0rn dame. As her father ir OonrfortaUo circirstanccs. and both tt* "l9 ,w"e was proud of their lovely she was allowed to work or to be . at her own fancy, and her only regti^yjar duty was attention to the comfort Of lier Wind sister Ella. Still, although preserving her delicate hands soft and white, ana her form stately and tall, Anna was by no means a uauit?? mam berofthe cottage family, llor busy fingers shaped the snowy caps, which her mother declared 'fitted ner head! as if they were made for it.' Ella's spotless dresses and muslins owed much of their purity to her sister's watchful care, and many a dainty dish found its way to the farmer's table tV yrhiri^e well knew was provided by ,> Arum. So, witti.light pleasant duties, rendered dear by home affections the young girl's life sped oj^ {tytit a change camo. There arrived at the pleasant Inge, for recreation, a young man w handsome face and figure, and winning address?one skilled iu the art of pleasing. With his time unoccu pied, and liis fancy struck by Anna's exceeding lovflfenesa, he determined to win the tove of the young country girl. It waejnat^fter shnset, cm* pleasant spring evenihg, tliat Anna was walk iag of terror, for the sound wafl^jiot a common one in that peaceful tkeigh- ; borhood, she quickened her pace, and was hurrying on when a voice calling her made her pause; in an instant the sportsman stood "before her, apologi- ' zing for the fright he had ^caused her, and pleading the unfrequented spot as an excuse for his haviug chosen it for sporting. 'But what were you shooting so late as this ? The young man was nnprepared for i this nuestion. and *tannn<?ri>H anmo. uaiiviM, to ue my wiie? 'I do, but i#> father'? 'JIates me ; t know it well,' said Edwin, bitterly. 'lie belicve9 because I am 110 farmer's lad, but a gentleman, there is 110 truth or goodness in me.? Believe me, Anna, it is only his prejudice against cities that causes your father's dislike to me.' 'But,' faltered Anna, that prejudice is so strong that I fear he will never consent to my wedding you.' 'Once my wife, dearest and he will forgive yon. Though he might not be wiflhw to let his child go still, believe me, if the knot was tie<l he would forgive.' It took long, even with Edwin's most subtle reasoning, to win Anna's consent to a clandestine marriage, but it was given at length, and, with a promise to bo in the meadow that night prepared for a journey to Boston,-she left him. When she reached home, she found tup family only awaiting her return for tho et&tbrTWy evening devotions.? Heating heitoif opP?site her father, Anna listened to :M *?rds of Divine truth which he read. After reading a chapter from tfic Jfow ' 1turnout lie rea<?, in a clear distinct voice, ti?? commandment; 'Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long up- 1 011 tho land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.' Then rising, he kissed Ella and Anna, and left the room. Anna sat motionless where he left her ; her mother, the servant, and her . little brother, and, last of all, $51ia left the room, but still sho remained. 'Heavenly Father,' sho murmured, bowing her head upon her hands 'strengthen this poor head, and guide ine in the right way.' Ilcary sobs choked her voice, and she gave way to a voilent lit of weeping. . A ? 1 .1 _ 1 .A. 'Bister Anna, saiu mo low, swew voice of her blind fitter, coming in,you are weeping? Will yon not tell mc whAt troubled you V Choking back her sobe, Anna endeavored to apeak cheerfully to Ella; k was in vain ; and? after one or two fruitless efforts, she silently embraced her, and sought her own room. Edwin Parker was early at th? anii dWjl, ami aw*fo<K$pit thing about an accidental discharge. Accidental 1 So far as watching for some hours for Anna's return, and then firing in hoj>e? of startling her, could make it. L - .iili oduded himself as Edwin Parker, from Boston, and she in return told him her name.? When they parted at Farmer Fisher's Kto, it was with determination on i part that this should not bo their last meeting, nnd a strong desire on Iter's to see liim again. Somehow it happened that Anna grew very fond of taking long strolls about sunsetand Edwin, by sum? unaccountable magic, was always going the Bame way about the same time. I will now give my readers the sulvstancc of a conversation which passed between the lovers one ovening, some four or live weeks after their first meeting. They were walking in the old meadow, Edwin's arm thrown round Annn'a wniat in tho mnat tint . railway possible. Anna,'he said, in a low tone, 'you do not answer nie; I say I must return to lioetou to-morrow.' Tt is so sudden?' murmured the young girl. 4llut you will be hero soon Edwin ?' 4Tlint, it is impossible for me to tell. It may bo years before I can visit this spot agaiu. Oh Anna!' he cried, in n sudden burst of passion, 4how can I live without you ? Why must we part V 4IIush Edwin you arc two violent. Yon will,you must return soon! 4Soon! A whole year must pass before I can come here again.' There was ft moment's silence, then bending over her, Edwin whispered : "Anpa, do you love me ? ^ 4 You know I do,' she answered. 4Do you lore nie well enough to trust your future happiness in my tiently for Anna. The hour was past < and still she came not. At length weary with watching, Edwin strode from the meadow to the little country inn where he was boarding. On his j table he found a tiny note directed to himself t ] 'Ah 1' ho murmured, as lie tore it \ open, 'detained at home, I imagine; this will explain all.1 . - 1 Within, ne found these words? 'Dkar Knwtof: Gould one who forsook her first duty, that to her parents, ruinii tne holy duties the name ot" wife v would bring? I dare not come: it has , cost mo much to write this, but 1 feci that I am doing right, and that streug- ( thens me. Win my father's consent and I am vours. Anna.' ? 'Pshaw!' said Edwin, tossing the ' note impatiently into the fire, 'it ain't worth the trouble.' The noxt morning, Edwin Parker had left tho village. , About a month after this, Anna, was i in the garden watering some plants ! when her father joined hor. 'Anna,'said ho, 'do yon recollect a young man who was here some weeks ago, named Parker V How her heart bounded! .ir i* .1 * ? * i es, iameiy sue saia. ]i 'lie has been arrested for forgery and is?Heavens, Anna, how pale you arel Are you faint V s i 'I am better now,' said Anno, struggling for composure. 'Father, I will tell von all, and then pray for your : forgiveness.' 'Dear Anna, did you think old father was blind ; no, no, my child, yon need tell me nothing; the commandment was not selected by chance; I knew all then and Ileaven alone knew the joy of yourj father's heart when lie saw you still with him after the tempter had left the place.' 'llow did you know 1' asked the astonished girll' 'I was passing in the thicket when your appointment was made, and over heard all. I watched your chamber door all night, thinking to stop yon by force if yon ventured forth! Thank God, it was not needed.' Thank God, indeed!' said Anna.? 'Had I not called upon his name, I should now be either the forger's wife, or the wretched suspected daughter.? Godeifz Lady 8 Book, Ibe looting ^eOOiel*. One rainy afternoon, in the earliest part of Autumn, I heard a low knock at uiy back door, and upon opening it, firvnml IV rvoflllloi- nofliUnwi n.? ? ?.? a* v?? ivi o ui ^ a great vexation to me; they leave tho FUcs epen, thev never have anything want, and I don't like the faces that belong to most of them, especially those of the strong men who go about with little packages of coarse goods, and I always close the door upon them, saying to myself?lazy. This was a little boy, and he was pale and wet and looked so cold, I forgot he wis a poddler- and asked hira to come in by tho lire. I t hought he appeared as thongh he expected I was going to bny something, for he commenced opening his tin box, but I had no such intention. lie looked up in my/ace very earnestly and sadly when I told him to warm himself by the fire, and that I did not wish to purchase anything. lie rose slowly trom his scat, and there was something in his air which reproached me, and I detail, id him to inquire why he was out in the rain. He replied .* "X Aiti out every day, and can't stay in for a little rain ; besides, most penalers stay at home then and I can sell more oa rainy days." "Ht?w miion <lo you cam in a day I" "Sometimes iwo shillings, sometimes one, and once in ft while! get nothing all day, and then ma'am, I am very tired. Here he gave a quick, dry cough, ! which startled me. "How long have you had that , cough I" 1 "I don't know raa'nm." i "Does it hurt you ?" "Yes, ma'am. "Where does your mother live?" "In heaven, ma'am," said he unino- 1 vod. "Have yon a father?" "Yes, ma'iira, bo is with mother," he < replied in the same tone. "Have yon auy brothers or sisters?" ' I have a nuk? sistafflmt she went, to mother alamt a?month ago." .1 "What ailed her ?? "She wanted to ee? mother, uud so TO M||rV , / * * ' * ? ft-*/-*'' i >.. wL/t * >/.<i't " J r t ' * ffc- , F JL i** &***&& ?i.. A <i v '* * io I^and I guess that's why I cough bo." "Where do you live 1" "With Mrs. Brown, on S 9treet." "Does she give you any medicine for your cough ?" "Wot doctor's medicine?she is too poor, but she makes something for me to take." "Will you take something if I give it bo you?" "No, ma'am, I thank yon ; mother took medicine, and it didnt help her, though'she wanted to stay, and you see I want to go, it would not stop my cough. Good day, ma'am." "Wait a minute," I said "I want to see what you carry." He opened his l>ox, and for once I found what I wanted. Indeed, I didn't think it would have mattered what he had. I should have wanted it, for the little peddler had changed in my eyes ?he nad a father aud mother in heaven, and so had I. How strange that peddlers had never seemed like people ?hunian^sonl-filled beings, before.? IIow thankful he was. and how the - >v en, men,' Mia me King, *vou arc lx>tli jnst men i marry your children to; each other ai)d give them the discovered treasure as a marriage portion.? I'hat is Illy verdict.' " ' ly*'" 'J? y threat, sunken blue eyes looked into mine when I paid him. "Yon don't ask me to take a cent less," said he, after hesitating a minute. "I think you must be very rich." "Oh, no," I replied; "I am far from that; and these tilings are worth more to me now than I gave yon for them.? W ill you come again 2 es ma'am irl don't go to mother 80011." "Are you hungry." "No, ma'am, I never feel hungry, now, I sometimes think mother feeds me when I sleep, though I don't remember it when I am awake. I only know I don't wish to eat now, since my sister died." "Did you feel very sad ?" "1 felt very big iu ray throat, and I thought I was choked, but I didn't cry a bit, though I felt very lonely at night for a while; but I'm glad she's up there now." "Who told you you were going to die I" "Nobody, hut I know I am. Perhaps I'll go before Christmas." I could not endure that, and tried to make him stay, but he would run and tell Mrs. Brown what good luck he had met with. He bade me good day again cheerfully, and went out into the cold rain, while I could only say, "God he with vou. mv child <" Alexander was astonished when he heard this decision. 'Have I judged unjustly,' said the king of this remote country, 'that thou i art astonished?' * i 'Not at all,' answered Alexander, i 'but in our country they would have i judged far otherwise.' 'And how then would they have jtulged?' inquired the African king. 'Both parties would have lost their Iteads,' answered Ale.^ndcr, 'and their - 11 ? -ivoouio yvuuiu uuvwiuiiGi) into ttie hands of the ki Then the kiy^alfl^ied his hands together, and said: 'Does the 6un shine upon you?? And do the heavens still shower their rain upon vou I' Alexander replied, Al~es.' 'It must then be/' continued the king, 'for the sake of the innocent beasts which live in your country ; for upon such men no sun should shine and no rain should fall/ ftfeclldntous llruiiing. i he Magician of ?g(|pf. Egypt swarms with magicians now, as in the days of Moses; nor do the practitioners of the present day bring and discredit upon tlieir renowned an cestora, thus lurmslnng strong circumstantial evidence of the truth of the inj spired narrative. So wonderful are the prodigies they perform, that they have been deemed worthy of grave recital in works on Egyptian life and manners, and been vouched for by authors as things which they saw and heard, but which they neither explaiu nor account for. And some of thein not only witness thgse marvellous things, but actually learned how to pertorin them, and yet were unable to ?ivc any explanation, only that they id as they wero told, and the result fo'lowed. There is a branch in their hidden art, employed to bring hidden things to iight, which has been practised with startling effect. In the process, variI ous mummeries are gone through, such j as writing certain words on paper, separating and arragning them, burning coriander and frank incense,and making diagrams, in th3 midst of all is deposited a few drops of black ink, which is called the magic mirror, and into which a boy, selected at random, looks intently, and sees any thing concerning which you desire information, posting you up in relation to it to your heart's content. Two of the British Consuls, residing a Cairo successively, have published the results of their own observations in relation to tho matter, gravely testifying that, having used every precaution against lmnomtinn. mnkmor rliAii* nwn selection ot the boy who was to reveal the mysteries of the magic mirror, they propounded questions to him concerning matters in England, which it was impossible for him to know anything about, and received answers corresponding with facts in every instance. Both wccc incredulous before instituting their inquiries; both repeated their interrogatories a number ot times, and theui in various forms, in relation to various subjects, but always with the same result; the correct answer being invariably given, and both continued incredulous still, and yet thus testified to the facts. This beats our own clairvoyants a long way, for the latter only hit the mark occasionally?about as often as one would naturally guess right. I did not myself put the pretensions of these professsors of the black art to the test, neing satisfied, as I said, \yith the demonstrations forced upon me in the street. Jugglery, in all its various forms, developes itself as the natural born offspring of such parentage. Among in n umor able*feats of the juggler here, he ^allows himself t1> l>c searched from head to foot, and then submits to be bound up in a sack, which has been searched, and from which he very complacently makes his exit, holding in one hand a lightfed candle, and in the other a plate of sweetmeats, I of which the spectators partake, and in return for which they are expected to throw him some coppers. Tbx.v8.?-The Austin State (hut*Ue says: "Our crops are looking very fine. We shall , make plenty of cotton and corn, lleccnt : rains will have a good effect upon our pra ; ' ries. Ryery thing is encouraging."' 1 if*# v H k ' v AU iMj l)e 3) id p't f ifg. % "No, I don't play on airy histru- _>3 mcnt," said.our friend, Tom Pringie, in answer to onr cprention. "To tell the truth, I became discouraged by a 4 slight misconceplion, when 1 was a * young- man'. 1 wasn't appreciated, you know, and all that sort of thing. "Well, von see." uniH l?r? ; ..V, ... IM jj another question, "it was a bent twenty years ago, when I was studying law, an* my brother was a medical student, that we both fancied we had a wonderful talent for music. So John bought a Ante, and I a fidole, and turning one of the attics irfto a study, we practiced there half the night through. We didn't waut nnv one to know about it, especialUftbur 'Either, who had verystrict notions as to the value of time ; and to make him think us usefully employed, I had quantities of law books neaped up, ami John had a skull and all sorts of bones scattered about. We knew that up itour 'study,' no one could hear us, but Betsy, the housekeeper, and as she was our old nurse, we felt sure she would keep our secret. Oue morn inc. after wo hsul ?rV:i:? -- - - ? ? h-VVM VTUlIillg the long night hours away with our music, to our own mutual delight, we cnino down late to breakfast, looking, I suppose, somewhat unrefreslied. " 'You mustn't study too hard, boys,' said our father, considerately. " 'Yes, sir,' said I, gravely. Just then Betsy appeared at the door, and looked mysteriously at my mother. ' Yes, what is it?'' said mother,surprised at Betsy's excited manner. kWhat is it Betsy?" * "Well ma'am, I wish to say, ma'- * am,'?Betsy always spoke in that short, nipping way, when sne was what she called 'worked up,'?'I mast leave you, ma'am.' " Leave me ? why V asked mother. "Yes ma'am, it's twenty-live years that I've been with you, ina'oin?and it's the boys at last ma'am. I can't stand it, and I ain't going to. It's not Christian-like, ma'am.' What have th boys been doing ? asked mother. "It's Mr. John, ma'am, and sometimes I think Mr. Tom helps Jjim. He's gut same poor cretnr ,up stairs, ma'am, amUie tormdhte him awful. Ilcscreaks and'groans all the might through. It * is worse than the heathen. I've stood it for more nor a week. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night, and what that poor cretur went tbroingb was dreadful. I know tl\py say such things must be done by doctors, but I ain't going to slay where it is, and I never thought John was the one to do it.' And Betsy gave my Brother a look of withering condemnation. M y mother was acute enough to see that something unusual was going on in our study, and telling Betsy eho would inquire into it, sho dismissed her for the present. That was the end of our musical practice, though not the end of the story, lor our father took core, we should not forget it. It was a long time before wo heard the last about 'that poor cre*ur un stairs."'? York Dutchman. Fine Preaching.?The curse of the age is fine preaching; it is morbid and pestilential. The want of the age is plain, intelligent preaching?prencning suggestive and illustrative-preaching absorbing all that eloquencecan offer; eloquence adapting itself (wituov.t which it ceases to be eloquence) to the wants and tastes of the people J availing itself of the lights or history lor illustration, or of science for confirmation, or of philology for elucidation, and * holding all so aloft that they may reflect tliOIH Vll I'O niwn ^ ^ * ? UIVII j?io ?|^/U ?11C ^VUIIID UI \^nristianlty, and develop its superior lnfetre* adaptability and power, To attempt to May line things in the pulpit is a solemn ? din; and lino ser.nons (like all other lino- g ry) ure very evanescent in their influence. Let the fine sermon fcystcm die > > out ns soon as possible, unless as it is to God and man. It devolves upon a few men to show to those not gifted with so mnch moral courage that thero is ?very thing to ?ain, and nothing to lose, by the adopt ion of a more honest system pf instruction. Intelligence grill ever hie away to the man ablo to teach. 0-ospel Messenger. " ' ? - ** The Madision (Kentucky) packers hove contracted for 25,000 nogs at net, for November delivery. ~ ~ it T if ~ ' lie never came again, though I looked for him every day. At length about New Year's t went to the place he calledjhome. Mrs. Brown was there, but the little pilgrim ! his weary feet were at rest and never more would his gentle knock be heard at the doors of those, who, like myself, forgot the necessity and stern want that often sent about these wanderers from house to house, and that their employment might be far more unseemly to them than annoying to us. Sfirican Ai.kxaxdkr, of Macedonia, once entered into a neighboring and wealthy province of Africa; the inhabitants came forth to meet him, and brought him their robes filled with golden apples and fruits. 4Eat this fruit among yourselves V said Alexander?lI am not come to see your wealth, but to learn your customs. Tlioy then conducted him to the market where their king administered justice. A citizen just then came before him and said: *1 bought of this man, O king, a sack full of chaff, and have found in it a secret treasure. The chaff is mine, but not the gold ; and this man will not take it again. Command him, O king to receive it, for it is his own.' And his antagonist, a citizen also of the place, answered: Thou fenrest to retain anything unjustly ; and should not I also fear to receive such a thing from thee ? I have sold thee the sack with all that was in it. Keep it, for it is thine. Command him O king P The king inquired of the first one, if I lie had a son. He answered. Yea." He inquired of the other if he liad a daughter, and the same answer. Yes,' was returned. /lir n a! ^ a <? i * J