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.1 11 .1 YOL. 2. tfiji #mrtji*ra (Knttrpriae, A RRFLEX OF TOPULAR EVENTS wsiMuaiUKi IP. ipj&aoia, Editor and proprietor. ' 'J-'-/ Dl 50, piTtUl in tdrtneo ; $t If delayed CLUliS o( FIVE and upward* 91, the money It* *Verr inntanoe to aeoompany the order. AiJV JUt I'lSl".JllSM I'.S iii*nrt?*<tconspicuously at \k? rateaof 76 cants p?r squar* of 1ft linas, him! Bft cents for each aiiliseqHcnt insertion. Co> tracts for yearly advertising rusdc reasonable. AOKNTR. I, W. CARR, S, W. cor. of Wulnnt and Philadelphia, is our Authorized Agent. W. W. WALKER, JR.. Columbia, S. CL PETER 8TRA0LEY, ESQ., Wat Uoek, N. CA. M. PEDEN, Fairviow P. (X, Oreenville Din WM. C. BAILEY, Plcn<aiit Orove, Orwnvilla CAPT. R. Q. ANDERSON, C??lnr Falls, Greenville ^firrtril poctrij. DO THEY MISS ME AT H0ME1 Do they miss mo at home, do they miss tne? Twould be ao assurance roost dear, To know that this moment some loved one, Were saying, I wish be wero hero, To feel that the group at the fireside Were thinking of me as I roam, Oh, yof>, 'twould l>e joy beyond measure To know that they miss'd me at home. When twilight approaches, the soason That ever is sacred to song, Does seme one repeat my name over, And nigh that I tarry so long 1 And is there a chord in the music That's missed when my voice is away, And a chord in each heart that awaketh JKegret at my wearisome slay. Do they act mc a chair near the table, When evening'* home pleasure* arc nigh, When the caudles are lit in the parlor, And the star* in the calm azure sky ! And when the 'good nights' are repeated, And all lay down to their sleep, 1*9 ttwry think of the absent, and waft lue A whispered 'good sight' while they weep? d? r.- I-*Do they miss me at home, do they miss ine! At onomtng, at noon, or at night i And lingers one gloom-shade around them That only my presence can light! Are joys less invitingly welcome, And pleasures less hale llinu before, Because one is misa'd from the circle, Because I am with them no more ? From the Louisville Journal. TBS, WE MISS THEE AT HOME. Yea, we miss tbee at home; yes wo mis? ^ tbee; The hours glide slowly away, With fond dreams of thee as thou roam est, Aud weary regrets at thy stay, The fireside circle is broken, Home pleasures are mingled with paiu A* over the past, we still linger, Aud long for thy presence again. r \> > id f i " r / Yes, we uiias thee at home, and how lone The evenings that once were so gay, The music has lost half its gladness? The melody gone from the gay, Each heart still remembers the absent, Is with thee, in joy and care, In spirit vee wander to meet thee? In spirit thy pilgrimage share. Yes, we miss thee at home; yes, we mia thee, At morning, at noon, at night, At morning we waft thee a blessing; At eveniog a tender good-night, And oh 1 in thy wanderings far distant Though joyous where'er thou dost roam Doth not memory recall scenos of pleat we And dreams of the loved ones at home Ellin. Fhmr lent or Scandal.?A Krencl provincial paper contain* the following par ' * HgDiph "A trial took place at our Aaaiaea. Ii * Womised .rich food for scandal. All the la diet of the town bedecked themselves it their smartest toilets, and crowded to tin court house. On seeing this, the presiding judge rose and said: 'Persons here aasein 4>led as spectators are not aware of the na tare of the cause. I therefore invite all de cent women to withdraw.' A pause took place without a tingle female moving to re . tire from her seat Seeing this, the judg< again rose add said: 'Officers of the court Uow that all the decent women have retired, turn out the remainder* .T . * . -.*1 nfe i I ( *v I ^^ 3 B I \ 11 j K] I J . i" ' - ' , GREENVILLl JMifldlnnriilis ^krtrjlts. Ibe io*f Found nnd fle*foted. A 8KRTOH FROM LIFE. 'You liavo just returned, friend Manson, have you not,' said Livingston, from your Western journey !' "Yes,' he replied 'I have, and there was a circumstance attending it which will make it the most memorable event in ray whole life.' ^Indeed, what is that, ray friend !n 'Ah, it would take more time than either you or I could now spare,' said Manson, 'for no mi ruiitus hiki you 10 listen to me particulars ; but I will attempt a very brief sketch of the substance : When I went to school in Connecticut, I had a very dear friend and schoolmate, named John McL d. He was one of (ho brightest and most beloved pupils in the school. He grew up, and paid his addresses to a beautiful and excellent young lady, a member of the church. At length he was married to his Mary ; and they prepared ira mediately after thai event, in pursuance of a previous plan, to emigrate to a Western 3tate. llie evening wuore the day we were to separate, perhnjw forever, I had a tender interview with my bosom friend and his lovely wife ; it was deeply affecting to us all. The next morning they departed, with the affectionate farewells of many old friends and neighbors in the town where they were born ntiu reared, with a handsome provision made by the parents of both, who were iu competent circumstances. Ten years elapsed, during which I was in the Methodist ministry in distant places, as my lot happened to be cast. Not a word concerning them reached iny cars in all that lime. The course of duty called mo to tho vicinity of the place where my friend had settled and I resolved to go out of my way considerably to give John and Mary a call. Arriving at the town, and inquiring for their residence, I was told that they lived some distance from the centre village. At length I found the place. At the first glance my mind misgave me. The sight of the miserable cabin made me sick ; and after hitching my horse 1 scarcely dared to eu'er. Knock I could not; there was no door?nothing but a blanket stretched across the pa.--s.ngc. Ib-moving this, alas ! what did I behold ! There was Mary sitting on a siooi wiwi an imam. in ner inp, ana another child in the corner on the ground ; for the cahin had no floor. Oh, night of woe ! IIow nltercd was the lovely Mary T n ! Do you remember me, dear Mary ?' I said, *0, Mr. Manson, it is indeed you ! We are ruined, John is lost, and I and the children are starving here. We have not had a morsel to eat since yesterday morning.' fireat heavens!' said 1, 'and where is ^ John I' 'He is at the store; he has not been here for several days.' 'I must see him,' I replied. 'Belter not, sir, he is a savage now, and will ill-treat you.' *1 mast and will see John' 1 replied, and stalled immediately for the store, according to her direction. There was no time to lose, ' for I was to be at the conference, whither 1 was bound, at a certain time appointed. 1 readily found the store and entered. The first sight disclosed four men playing card* at a table. The next glance discovered a man stretched out alongside a whisky hogs rienu. jne landlord ww sitting ny, out in Htauily hopped up and ran behind the counter to wait upon me, supposing I was a cus tomer. Says I, *is John MoL d here.' They alfl looked at me on hearing th( question, as if I had been tho old one or n Sheriff. 'What is that to you, he sullenly replied 'I want to see him,' I answered. s While I was speaking, I took anothei sweep of tho room with my eye, and saw something like a roan asleep in the corner. 'Is that John," I asked. 'None of your business,' answered the suri ly bar-keeper. 'If it is that unhappy man, you will find ( some of my business, I replied.- So I went to him, recognized him, though in this 1 shocking, beastly plight and began to wake him. This was no easy job, and while 1 ? was about it, the rumsellor and his guests remonstrated, telling me to go away, threat ening chastisement and showing eiolence. I i had in my hand a loaded whip, am not in. ferior, you know, in point of wiry, muscular power; and though a man of peace, I coo> baa #li?t in itn laantv.uimin VAnra I llQVA . been is ihe minis ry, 1 never wit so strong a i dis position as At that m iment, to give four i or five men a thrashing. They >ere intimr idated, and I succeeded at length in getting John upon his legs, and trotung him on . homeward. My presence and the exercise . sobered him, so that whon he reaobed his : hovel he was ta his right mind. 1 forgot to mention that when I first went i into tho house, the child upon the ground , starting up affrighted, running to her moth, er, crying, 'Is be going to carry us to jail, mother, where father was!" And that poor * r ? IS-ft * ' !* ? .5^, . ? 1 f -* ? ! 4 ."-.j1 i } ,y> -. & .> ? *rtj E, S. C.: THURSDAY mother sobbed upon my hafid, M if her heart would break."? Well,"I conversed with theitt an hour, talked of old times in Connecticut, the old village, and school days. He was softened ; his heart was touched. Then I urged the pledge; his wife put in her pro foundly earnest, almost frantic plea. She felt this, indeed, to be the hour of destiny. "Do you think I can keep it!' said, at length, the miserable man, once ?o promising, now so fallen. MIs it possible for rae to be saved T 'It is,'said I with confidence and hope; 'you can keep it. I know, you can. In the name of humanity and religion, try it dear John, and Ood will help you." At last he consented) We knelt down on the earth? there was no chair, no table in the bouse? I took out tbe pledge, which I always carry in my pocket, placed it ou the stool where Mary had been sitting, and banded him my pencil. lie wrote his name, thank Ood I Notwithstanding his condition, it was beautifully written, as I afterwards observed, for be was an excellent scholar. We did not lise till I had relieved ray overburdened heart in prayer, and I oraved with nil mv truggling soul, nnd his despairing wife join* ed ice in the solemn invocation, that the Father of mercies would receive the returning prodigal to his arms, and that he might never go astray acain. It will now quite time for me to go and resume my journey"; but I could not leave the town before I called upon the class leader, left bim some money for the family, and enjoined upon him to look after them, and throw around John the seed of all good influences, to prevent his suffering a relapse. Whatever further charges he should incur on their account. I pay as soon as informed of them. Another decade rolled by, during which no tiding came to me at the East from this interesting couple. At length I was called agHin to visit those Western regions, and to pass near the residence of this unfortunate brother. On reaching the town, my disappointment was extreme to learn that he bad removed to a distant country. I anticipated misfortune ; but as the nlaco designated was not fur from iny intended route, I resolved to go and see him. When I entered the town of , where John was said to live, I made enquiry for his dwelling, nnd was told it was the second house on the left hand side of the road. Being now so near, I hastened onward eAgerly, and presently a nice frame building painted white appeared. I could not help putting up a prayer that iny dear friend ini^ht be so happy as to oc | cupy any nouse unit as respecttablc as tins. Expectation now became painfully iutense. What iu mercy was I sent to see t A scene like that or worse, which ten years before left stioh awful traces on the memory, never to be obliterated ! I could not tell. At a sudden turn in the road, I thought I discerned another white house iu the distance among the trees ; yea, it is so, with green blinds ; and as I went nearer, gravelled walks were seen, a handsome paling, and ornameni tal trees and shrubbery. Surely there is some mistake in the direction, this can't be i John's home! yet it is the second on the left. Fastening my beast to a hook, I went to I the door and knocked. A girl, just on the verge of womanhood, oponod it. I 'Does Mr. McL d live here !' I asked ; with trembling. 'lie does, sir f* E 'Is he or his wife at home t' [ 'Mother is within, but father is in the t field. Please walk in, sir.' i My eye glanced through the open parlor i door. A fine carpet covered the floor. There were handsome chairs and other furniuire; but I saw no more, for Mrs. McL d by this time was informed of a gentleman's ar rivai and lost no time in making her appearance '-Good God 1' was all I remember to have heard from ber, as she rushed for ward i on seeing me, and clasped ma by the neck. She almost fainted and shed a flood of tears, . and my own condition was not much more composed. Recovering a littlo, the inform nil ma thai, liar urna at linma but out upon the farm. Too impatient to wait, I buried away loaeeliim. lie root mo an he wat coming home. Aa toon as he knew who it was, he ran forward and grasped me in his arum, saying as he strained me to his 1 bosom? 'Thank Ood ! thank God ! you are my ; savior under heaven. This is ail your work,' i looking around. *0, 1 am rejoiced to see that vou are here to see it,' When we had returned to'lhe house, the ten year's history of struggle, repentance and reformation was recounted. Prosperity was the consequence. The dwelling was his, the farm and all. His wife was happy. The beautifol young girl, almoet a young lady how, was the dirty child that was crawling on the ground on my first visit. There were three more children now. And to crown the whole, he said; 'After 1 bad persevered a year in abstinence according to that blessed pledge, taken on that awftil day, on the stool in die log hut, which rises to me sometimes with spectral horror?after keeping it sacredly a year, I committed myself to the church of which my wife, who has been an angel helping me, waa a member. Prosperity attended my worldly businem; bat this w? not a complete satisfaction. I wanted to bo more; " & OJP * 4|AflfB|NP ?' ?eA ?\",-.:< , /St !i'.'tftfc4 VH .*5 T^fifweU jfo HIGH' ?, ,,v **-l# - > - %f?j fix rr**;;' ' 11 MORNING, APRIL 3, and commenced study for tlio ministry. My dear friend and brother, I am now a ministerofthe everlasting gospel. How much, < what an inexpressible debt do 1 owe to you 1' We knelt down together oa the rich carC instead of the cold earth, and prayed as rently as 1 prayed before in tho log cabin; but in what a different strain! Instead of the almost despairing supplication, and en treaty of forlorn hearts, crushed to the earth with sorrow?thanksgiving, praises and gratitude n?w rose spontaneously from our tongues and hearts?-O, the heart of Ctesar never swelled with such triumphant joy at any of his conquests, as mine does for my agency in the salvation of this one roan, and the happiness of bis family. rdqeqiion bs. DJopeJj. The following anecdote, from the People $ Organ refers undoubedtly to the Hon. Jacob Collamor, now in the United States Senate and formerly pout master General. "1 remember," says the late Postmaster General of the United States, "the first time I visited Burlington, Vt., as Judge of the Supreme Court. I had left it many years before, a poor boy. At the time 1 left, "there were two families of special note for theit standing and wealth. KmcU of them had a on oUui own ago. I was very poor, and these boys were very wealthy1. During the long years of hard toil through which I passed before n y return, I had almost for gotten them. They had Song ago forgetten me. Approaching tlio court for the first time, in company with several gentlemen of the bench and bar, I noticed in the court house yard, a pile of old furniture about to be soid at auction. The scenes of early boyhood with which I surrounded made ine nek whose it was. I was told it belonged to Mr. J. * -Mr. J. I remembered a family of that name?very wealthy; there is a son, too; can it be lie!" t was told that it was even so. lie was the son of one of the families already alluded to. lie had inherited more than I had earned, and spent it ail; and now his family was reduced to real want, and his furniture was to be that day sold for debt. I went into the court house, sadly, yet almost glad that I was born poor. I was soon nl*?nrl>ed in the business before me. Oiis of the first easescalled originated in,a low and drunken quarrel between Mr. H. and Mr. A. Mr. 11. thought 1, that is a familiar name. Can it be ? In short, I found that this was the son of the other wealthy man alluded to. I was overwhelmed alike with astonishment and thanksgiving?astonishment at the change in our position, and thanksgiving that 1 was not Itorn to inherit wealth without toil. Those fathers provide best for their children who leave them with the highest education, the purest moras, and?the least money. tee! 'ffir?t EffoH.8 lit Oniojj. Soon after Peel was born, his father, the first baronet, rising dnily in wealth and consequence, and believing that money, in those peculiar days could always cginm**^ n iilfffeaTounny up Ifis son expressly for the House of Commons. When that son was quite a child. Sir Robert would frequently set hiin on the table, and say, uNow, Robin, make n speech and I will give you this cherry.n What few words the little fellow produced were applause stimulating exertion, produced such effects, that before Robin was ten years old he could address the company with some degree of eloquence. As he grew up, his father ronstautly took him every Sunday into his private room, and made him repeat, as well as he could, the sermon which had been preached. Little progress in effecting this was made, and little was expected at first; but steady perseverance the habit of attention grew powerful, and the sermon was repeated almost verbatim. When at a very distant day the Senator remembering accu rately the speech of an opponent answered Diit arguments in qtucK succession it was little known that the power of so doing was so originally acquired in Drayton Church. Airidobmckt of a sermon which took up an hour in delivering, from these words:? Man is born to trouble." My friends, the subject falls nata rally to be divided in four heeds: 1. Man's entrance into the world. 2. liis progress through the world. 3. His exit from the world ; and 4. Practical icflections from what may be said. First then : 1. Man came into the world naked and bare. 2. His progress through it is trouble and care. 3. His exit from it none can t*ll where. 4. But if he does well here he'll be well there. Now, I can say no more, my brethren dear. Should 1 preach on this subject from this time to next year. Amen. taUt" hiV- ft <V# ?7?# 4 >VAI 1 : ? y * TB ?? A3 vj rV* ? i ' t J ' , * 4* : 1856. $>abbnt|j probing. Tr anslatud from tho Courier des Ktat* L'nis. Seqtl) JJDjjIrMnt of Christ. I Chance lias just put into our hands the most imposing and interesting judicial doc- j ument to ell Christians, that has ever been , ( recorded in human annals ; that is, the iden- < , tical death warrant of our Lord Jesus Christ. , We transcribe the document as it has been | handed to us : , Sentence rendered by Pontine Pilate, acting Ooverner of lower Galilee, elating thatJe- \ mum of Nazareth shall suffer death on the cross. **ln the year Reventeen of the empire Tiberius Cresar, and the 25th day of March, in the city of Holy Jerusalem, Aunias. and Cai- j aphas being priests sncrificators of the peo-, pie of God, Pontius Pilate, Governor of Lower Galilee, sitting on the presidential chair of the Pnetory, condemns Jssus of' Nazareth to dio on the cross between two thieves?the great and notorious evidence of the people saying? 1. Jesus is a seducer. 2.. He is seditious. 3. He is an enemy of the law. 4. He calls himself falsely the Bon of God. 5. He calls himself falsely the King of fsrael. 0. He entered into the temple, followed by a multitude bearing palm branches in their hands. Order the fih?t centurion, Quillus Cornelius, to lead liitn to the place of execution. Forbid to any person whomsoever, either poor or rich, to oppose the death of Je^us. The witnesses who signed the condemnn tion of Jesus are, viz: 1. Daniol Kobani, a Pharisee; 2. Joan-! nns llorobable ; 3. Raphael Kobani; 4. Capet a citizen. Jesus shall go out of the city of Jerusalem by the gato of Strucnus. The above sentence is engraved in a cop per plato; on one side are written these words: "A similar plate is sent t> each tribe." I It was found in an nnti<jue vane of white marble, while excavating in the ancient ci-i ty of Aquilla, in the kingdoms of Naples, i in the year 1820, and was discovered br d?e 1 commissaries of Arts attached to the French armies. At tho expedition of Naples, it was I found enclosed in a box of ebony, in the am*-1 rimy of the Chartiem. The vase in chapel ; of Caserla. Tho French translation was' made by tho members of the Commission of | Ar'?. Tho original is in the Hebrew language. The Chartrem requested earnestly that the plate should not be taken away from them. The request was granted, us a reward for the sacrifice they had made for the army. M. l>enon, one of tho sevens, caused a plate to he made of the same model, on which he had engraved the above sentence. At the sale of this collection of antiquities. <kc., it was bought by Lord Howard for 2,890 francs. J foe fchticaP. This word is often used, but there are many who do not understand its import,? The term refers to a collection of buildings on one of tlie seven hills of Rome, which covers a apace of 1200 feet in length and 100 feet in breadth. It is built on the spot once occupied by the garden of cruel Nero. It owes its origin to the bishop of Koine, who in the early part of the sixth century erected a humble residence on its site. About the year 1160, Popo Eugenius rebuilt it on a magnificent scale. Innocent II., a few years afterwards, gave it up as a lodging to Peter II., King of Arragon. In 1003 Clement V. at the instignation of the King of France, removed the Papal See from liome to Avignon, when the Vatican remained in a condition of obscurity and neglect for more than seventy years. But soon after the return of the ponlificial court to Rome, an event which had been so earnestly prayed for by a poor Petrarch, and which finally took place in 1370, the Vatican was put into a state of repair, again enlarged, and it was thenceforward consid ered an the regular palace and residence of the Popes, who, one after the other, added fresh buildings to it, and gradually encircled it with antiquities, statutes, pictures, and books, until it became the richest depository in the world. The library of the Vatician was commenced fourteen hundred years ago. It contains 40,000 manuscripts, among which are some by Pliny, St. Thomas, St. Charles, Bororaeo, and many Hebrew, Sy rian, Arabian and Armenian Bibles. The whole of the immense buildings composing the Vatican are filled with statutes found beneath the ruins of ancieat Rome, with paintings by the masters, and with curious medals and autiquities of almost every description. When it if known that there have been exhumed more than seventy thousand stat- , uos from the rained temples and palaces of Rome, the reader cau form souic idea of the richness of the Vatican. It will ever be held In veneration by the student, the artist, 1 and the scholar. Raffael and Michael An- 1 golo are enthroned there, and their throne will be endurable as the love of beanty and genius in the hcaitsof their worshipper*. trsis <? *<& . ! NO- 47 $ Jqdjj on A fair correspondent of the Homt Jourlal has the. following sensible remarks on he wholesome habit of wearing the beard, vlnch has lately come into fashion : "It is astonishing what change a few rear* ha* wrought in regard to ahaving.? Dnw, everybody shaved, but now, I much nistHke, if every gentleman has not found to have or not to shave, a Question suggested t>y his morning toilet. Alas for the razorilrop man I llis occupation is nearly gone. I hoj?e he will succeed in finding another, fur the present generation will be a bearded race. "1 was quite interested lost winter in te&ding a 'Malum! History of the Human Spe cies,' by Lieutenant-Colonel |Charlcs Hamilton Smith, in which he staler that a bearded race are the conquering races. For this reason the beardless races are averse to union with them. This aversion he states to bo the result of experience, proving the supcri or activity of those who have sprung from such races. Jcnghis, Timur and and Nadid Shah, were directly, or in their ancestry, descended froin Caucasian mothers, and hence also, the jealous exclusion of the European women from China. The progressive nations, he tells Us, are a bearded and hairy race. Sampson's strength lay in his hair.? Hereft of that, his mighty power was gope. The lion is the king of the forest, llow much of his beauty be owes to his magnificent mane. Shave him, aud he is king no longer. 1 cannot iiungine why a beard is given to man, unless it is to try bis patience, if ho is to spend his time in daily cutting it, as it daily asserts its right to a manifested existence. The beard is an emblem of manly power and dignity, and is certainly an element of manly beauty. The Father of the Faithful, and nil the old Patriarchs and Prophets wore beards ; so did our Savior, when bo dwelt us man among the hills of Jtulea. So, too, moat of the venerable divines who have tiansmitted to us their schemes of theology. It is a modern innovation to shave off the whole beard. It was not common before the comme neeraen of the last eentury. Moses forbade tth? Jc?vs to mar the corners of their beard ; and David, when bis Embassadors woro insulted by Han inn's shaving off one-half of their beards, permitted them to tarry at Jericho till their heard* had no-own. "While ihe beard, properly worn, is an ornament, it i9 sometime* rendered hideous by the manner in which it is trimmed. A round mass of bristles on the chin is never Oceoining, yet sometimes thin-cheeked, long faced gentlemen elongate their countenances, in this way ; often these tufts impart a low, animal expression ; they never confer dignity nor heauty. Some few are greatly improved by full whiskers, others by a moustache. Some look'best with the beard rather close. It requires an artist's eye to decide on what is most becoming. Nature leaves a varying outline to the beard, which is more perfect than any scmi-circle cut by the razor. "Perhaps you may think I have wandered from my proper sphero in writing about beards. 1 bad no idea of doing so when I commenced this letter; you must charge it all to snow storms. I must leave the sub* ject of ladies' dress for another day. "Yours, ?kc. "ANNA HOPE." ? - - -44^- ?? I be JLfjdies of Cy 69. i iie muies seiuom wear Donnels, caps, or carry parasol*?they sometimes throw over their faces a dark, rich veil. It is not considered a 1 reach of etiquette to stand for a moment and gazo in at the window, if you sec a pretty face, and if you lift your hat and say 'beautiful,' you will be very likely rewarded by a sweet smile as you pass on. Any attempt at what they would * deem rudeness, however, would be infallibly returned by a few inches of stilletto between the ribs. To avoid gazing into a room or into a beautiful lady's face, would be looked on as a desire to inflict a slight. I must say that a compliment of the kind I have mentioned from an American is esteemed more highly than from their own countrymen, as they consider oil re to come from the heart, while they know their own is mere empty courtesy. So if you see a lady going from church to her carnage, she is glad to have you offer to assist her, even if you are a stranger, and if she is a pretty girl, and you tell her so after she gets in, she pleasantly thanks you for your admiration, and both oarties sanamtn i>le.i?ed with tlifl L-indnnaa of compliments, even if llicy never meet Again. It sti ikes our women as rather singular at first. One lady from the Northern States was utterly shocked ns she appeared, in the streets for the first lime to see two gentlemen lift their hats to her with the compliment, 'You are fit for Heaven, lovely and beautiful American.' Yet before she had returned she had become so accustom sd to compliments that she felt no astonishment in being told by the waiter of a restaurant that the beautiful lady's refreshidents had been paid for by the gentleman, who adii.i o I the glances of her bright eyes. * -ta-v W IE a \rT WF ' ?