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.. i*!. * f \ * " ' ' ' ' ' ** ' " . . ' ' ~ i ill Msso^rcqrjtife rnmmns ?@ . 1 r, ii r'-' ' ii ' * ,., fl., '-' ,A^yl 'T[ mi'iuu to ^MNl iHuhih m i " "i. , i T^UOU A . z A.-'^V^ u. ; n. *' - jr. in' VOL 3. GREENVILLE, S. C.: THURSDAY HORSING, AUGUST 7, 1S5C. SO. 13 ] ii- III I' <?ije #nntlftrir (Butrrjirist, KEFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS OM ni . & uLiAtjliLajj^,? ^rrr.TLaiMia IP? ipmaoa, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. *1 flO, payable I* advance ; 02 If delayed. Y* OLUBS W FIVK and upwards 01, th* money I* ?*fry instance to accompany the order. ADV'EUTISEMEJTTS inserted conspicuously at fMnMof T8 Bents per square of 13 lines, and IA cents Cor each aubeequont insertion. Co:\tracts for pearly advertising made reasonable. I AOjtN,TSft W. CHi, K. W. cor. of Walnut and Third st, Philadelphia, is our authorised Agent, W. W. WAutrt, Cttumbio, 8. C. l'rraa Stradi.kv, Eaq., Flat Rock, N. C. A. M. Pkd**, Fnirviev P. O,, Greenville Disf. Wiluam C. Bailkt, Pleasant Orove, GreenviJU Oarr. It. Q Asoeiuxx, Cednr Falls, Greenville. mmkmmmrnmmmmmm I | ?, i Irltrtrit ^ortrt). V ft n i h a it? * A- v 1 ||t johm critculev muxce. ? M ax. hath two attendant angels Ever waiting at his aide, With him whosoe'er he wanders, WheresoeVr hi* feet ahide ; (r One to warn him when he wnlkcth, And rebuke him if lie atMIV ; One to leave hiin to his nature. And so let bun go his way. MtTwo recording sj/uils, lending All his life's minutest part, Looking iu his soul and listening To the Waling* *4 his heart j Each, with pen of tiro eWctric, p Y Wl ite* the good or evil wrought ? Wiitta with truth, that adds not, errs not, Purj* ise ?net ion?word ?and thought. <T>ne, the Teacher and Ueprover, ^. ^^Maikaenih heaven-deserving deed ; . tiravea it with the lightning's vigor, Seals it with tint lightning's speed ; For the govs] that man uchievelh? Good beyond nu angel's doubt? Such remaina for aye and ever, 4^ And cannot be blotted out. <)nc (severe and silent Watcher!).' Note til every crime and guile, Wfltn it with a hole dutv, "Sea!* it not, l>ui wails awhile; If the evil door fry not? m<mk1 forgive tne!" Ml' lio hIm-jw, Then the ami. stern spirit seals it. And the gentler spirit weeps. 'JV? the .sinner if Uo|?>nhmce Cometh soon, with healing wings, ',*Tbei*itho dark account is can ceiled, ~ And each joyful angel sings ; Whilst the erring one perceiveth? Now his troublous hour is o'er? Music, fragrance wafted to him Froiu a yet untrodden shore! Mild: and mighty i*. Forgiveness, v ' Meekiy worn, if menkly won ; t - Let our hear 1a go foilh to seek it ... f> .1 - _r.i. . r/ro mo niumg oi i.i?j hiu 1 ^ Angel* wait anil lopg to hear us M it, ere the time be flown ; as give it, and receive it, -? Ere the midnight cometb down 1 eye? i i ? ?t? | |T IMMIP jl ' I? I**-* T -< ? ' J J -T~, l, 31 Jkltrtrii Itnrtj. ? ? m-~T' -'II1'"' - " ? ? from Peterson's Magazine. ^ Br VIROlJflA *. T0WK8KND. 0 Vr^^Fdri w I V , ' f. O "Miserably unfortunate and poor. Hi* wife and child i<> actual need of life'* com fort*! Oh! Lucius ! Lucius! I am revenged now," and aamije, sad even in it* triumph eiflttl over the beautiful mouth of tlie speaker. - AjkstflSl OVlT She was young, so young that you would !? 1i a ut\ liAailef#r! a/ I to I li.re to ?u-?a I.a. ?2.1 ? ftV ? ? IM? IIOI ^111 ?'l woman, mid her only beauty were her moutli and eyet. The one wan large, but soft, aweet, tiexible^ the responsive instrument on H which the soul always struck its infinitude of emotion and feeling. The eves were largt and deep, a translation of her soul rather "> thnrfhor heart, as perhaps eyes ofteneet are Up and down her chamber with that ?ad v * kilter smile ou her lips, Alice IOade walk \M ed many times. The velvet carpet, iu darh groagdvKnrSi p?l?l?rith Hormnto roses cu?hL JP KMMWMK4 landscape* af(lie Khii.e f iatenwUjeled- **h ?*tW pictures of Alpn* . voenerjr, teaaed down to Iter from Ibeir ova! 4 ft ? frames, but heedless of all the Inanity about her, it!" mLtress walked amid it. her soul wrapped in a joy which the angels urnst have written xiu. And yet you should pity her, for great had been her wrong. She had the elements of a very noblo nature too, but her mother had died before Alice mot her tenth hummer, and tluho was none that understood hotdeep, emotional nature, Iter impulsive, pootic temperament. Iler father was a pi tin, practical farmer, whuwehchig wttfvabsorbed in ' tbe few acres which lav around Ids yellow brown homestead, ami ho tegardeil AI too as a I ornarka blv sensible child, because she always preferred books to dolls and bonnets. She attend ed the village school until she was eighteen, for her father was indulgent to a fault, and though he fumed and fretted over the semiannual school bill*, he never had the heart t<5 vithJsaw Alice from the studies she loved. 1 Lirfo she met Lucius Hrante. How the thought* of the proud woman reach off to that hour, and drag it up to the present! lie was p?jor, tin atvttt and a school-teach or, with an earnest, te*ti??'ie nature, and much <>f that social magnetism tliat attracts the sympathy of others. Alice was his nnnil. 1 do not t-tiflw bow it happened, hut both teacher and scholar learned a lesson tliat was not in the textbook that summer. "Alice," sail! the young man, brushing away the rich curls tlint leaned over the girl's bowed forehead a? they stood by the ohl farm-gale on the last night of his stay in Meadow-1 hook. "1 give you my heart. Take | and keep it. 1 iuu?t go out into the world ! and win ino a name and a place. and then 1 I will ConiG back to you." "I will take and keep it till I give back both to God," answered the girl, solemnly,1 and tyt they parted. She had been true to him?through the dark triumph r?f her face comes n softer light with the thought. True, when temptations thickened about her?when her father died, and i-ho caine to her fashionable cousins in New York, and entered upon that new life of w?ttfUt ana luxury. 1'i.juuiit aud impulsive, graceful, and soino times benuliful.it was not strange she erea ted an uuiiMuil sensation. lhu the dreaming, faiihaired .youth, whoso rapt eyes leaned over his e.Wl in the fourth story of an old building in an obscure street of the metropolis, owm.vl the heart that no princely fortune j eon Id have bought. Alice's relative was an intriguing, worldly woman. She had no children of her own, and whatover of affection could exist in such a natiiiu was bestowed on the orphan. Mr. Keade was a widower and n millionaiie; and if his life wa? leaning down to the shitdows of sixty, he tho't l/utt was no reason w hy lie should not have a young and beautiful w ife to preside over the elegant home, whoso foundations were already laid on Fifth Avenue. "She'll throw herself away on that handsome young painter, and starve to death in a garret," illumed Mrs. Henley, Iretween her lunch ami her lap-dog, afler a long interview will) Mr. Keudc. ' IM forbid him the house but Alice is such a high ^j?irite<l girl. A little diplomacy will succeed best with her. It would only be doing the child n life-long favor too." "We'll seeT' significantly perorated the portly lady, as she divided a slice of cake with her canine favorite. "Alice V "Aunt t" and the gill's bright face lenned over the luilustradc. "Hare's a letter for you I found among my cards after dinner, I forgot to hand it to ymt. h'rcHtetnoif What, not drc.rsed yet for the party I" As Alice came eagerly down stairs, her eyes brightening at the well known chirograph)*. "No; but I shall" l>e in half an Itonr," and she went back to her room. No one paw Iter again that night. That letter struck out all the light, and joy, and ' faith of Alice Head's life! Two months later there was a wedding, nud a very gorgeous one at the residence of Mrs. Henley, Alice was the wife of the mil lionairo. Wo)l, lie wit* a good, indulgent sort of a husband, mid loved hi* young wife belter than he did hi* house aud.his horses, which is saying a great deal, for these were hi* passions. j And Alice. I have given you the key, note to her life. You can h-el the sadness of | the heart hymns amid ail the earth-glare and luxury through which it rises. "Yes, it is my triumph hour now, Lucius Braote," murmurs the ludy, as she twined I the wntch-chnin round her white lingers, still . pacing up and down the chamber Hoor. Oh ! , what a heart was that you slighted, what a low was that you rpurned ! i "Yon would never havo come to what you i are now if 1 hud been your wife. My geni us would havo stimulated, my arteclion would have inspired you ! Hut you knew 1 was . poor, and you thought if you married a rivli , wrinan?your designs wore frustrated finely though, weren't they 1 In ess than a year ; Iter fullier died insolvent and you had a pret tv, kelpie* little girl on your hands, who, if , she had strength to love, hadn't sen-so to ap i preciute you. I -'Well, you deserve it all, and I'tji glad-of ' # t.viuuii t'll IIIU W llt'it?. "I tlinnk you. I don't want anything, Mr. Ueade, unless " "We!!, speak out : my dear, for I ought to have been on Wall street an houi ago." "Didn't you promise me anew diamond pin, last week ? She looked up from the figures on the rug with a smile dimpling her mouth, which few husbands would have resisted. "So I did, dear child, anil I see you want it to-night for the party. Well, you shall have it for two kisses. "No, I shant't either, for I've pins enough already, but," crossing her hands coaxing on his arm, "I want the money very much for j something else. It's a great secret, si> don't, please, ask mo anything,about it, only say I may have it. "A thousand dollars to throw away on a secret. Extravagant Alice!'* Mr. Ueade drew in his breath, but there was a smile lurking in his eyes, and his wife knew all was right. "Send up the nolo before eleven?please Mr. Keadi !" were the words that followed the millionare down stairs. Let us change the scene. It was a high chamber, in a dilapidated biick tow, and miserably destitute. A few aslu* were smouldering on the hearth, and by this sat a shivering, starving mother and her child. "Mother, mother, won't papa come homo pretty soon, and bring Newell a uieo cake?" said the boy. "I hope so, dear little boy. Oh if lie only can sell one of the pictures!" It was pitiful, the sob in the woman's voice, the tone half hopeful, half despairing, in which she spoke this. She was young and veiy pretty still, even with her pale, pinched face, and the sorrow that looked out of her large, blue eyes. "There was no groat force of character in the face, it is true. You felt it was not one to meet calmly, defiantly, the great trial lif.. i?. : " vi HIV, iru? ib n/v uumani), | and oil, so very sorrowful! The boy, of some five summers, was not like his mother. The tone of his face, from the broiid foichend, to the small, full mouth, was stronger and deeper. I ven his large, hazei oyes and brown hair were his father's. And llivn to think of the husband and the i father, with his sensitive, orthotic. nature, and his proud, high spirit reduced to this! j Oh, Lucious Ih-Hiite, it might havo been ; weakness and sin, but it was hardly strange that you had gone out from the old chain ' her that day, with these words in your heart, j "Success or Suicide" The boy drew up closer to bis mother, and she put her arms tenderly about him, but she did not sjajnk for fear the tears would come. With all his rare gifts the artist father bud neve;* painted so touching a picture. Another hour wont by, and there was the j quickering of feet on the old stair cose, ami something in the sound which gave a new ' spring ol hope to the hearts that beat low by the dying ashes. The door burst open, and Lucius Brante i rushed wihllv in. anil iIh-kw ? Imuw |>uie iutn his wife'* lap. Wat the inau mad J Fur he clasped her and the frightened child one moment in hi* arms and threw them up, triumphantly laughing and shouting, while the tears ran down hia proud face, a* they would down the face of a little child. "What doea it mean, Lucius t?speak to me/ gasped the young wife, shaking front head to foot. "I have aaved yu, Ueh'ii, Newell! Thauk God?thank God 1 There ber4 thousand dollats in that purso. Oh, it seems as if I must be dreaming, a* if thia great, sudden ! good eould not be true ?" "And who was it bought them, Lucius |M asked the wife through her glad tear*. "The man** name ( blessing* on it! ) was Watfcin*, lie bought four of my pictures, selecting them from all the others in the collection, sod paid me two hundred and fifty ft it. 1 wouldn't give one cent of the thousands I possess to snvo you, or your wife, or child from "star vat ion," mul the lady la-ought down her clenched hand on the tahle. No, not on the table, hut on a book tlint | lay tlnre. No wonder tho flu > It and the j scorn went out from the lady's face, f?>r that , book was her mother'h Bible, and tho old days when she read it at her knee, came like far travellers axvay from her life's morning, and stood still and reproachfully about her. She bowed down her fair face on the old brown cover and wept, and the nngej in her heart I'fted his head aud whispered \ Forgive even as ye would be forgiven." There was a long, fierce struggle between the good and the evil in tho soul of Alice Rend* that night. But there was a new beauty on Iter face, the benuty of jKace when at last it was lifted from the old Bible. "Well, Alice, what can I do for you this, morning ?" Mr. Rcadc leisurely drew on bis glasses as lie asked the question, glancing admit ingty at the graceful position of his wife, as she ant in her easy chair, her head cushioned on its crimson hack. ii.. .1- ? j fn Jiurnv, |M>injlOHR*IOOKinpf man, j wit li a shrewd, ?.'! 'satisfied kind of pliysiog| lioiiiv?a fine, well, unreserved elderlv getltl^.,,.... i -? .lane, freely as 1 do!'' and taking that forgiveness with it, the soul of Jane Henley went out from that gorgeous death chamber to its God. l'lve veais had passed. The Florence sunset looked serenely iftto^llle. studio of the artist, and the light Florence winds moved up from the rallies, where they had lain bound all day among the tall grass and the lieh crimson blooms. 4,It is very beautiful,*said | the ladv, breaking the long silence which | had followed a longer conversation, as she1 turned her deep eyes from the purple clouds to her companion's face. "Yes, Alice, very beautiful. l>o you remember how we used to watch thein at the i kitchen window of tlio old yellow brown ( homestead, ten years ago ?" The beautiful eyes filled with tears. There was another, long pause. "It is very strange I met yon among the mountains Inst week, neither knowing that the other was widowed ; neither dreaming *1. .4 * I 1 * a - a iii.h me iiean oi cacn was iruo 10 us nrsi love!" "You will forgive aunt Jane, Linens 1 She toned n?e, and it was her ambition iustiga. i ted the falsehood." Tlio lady's tones were j very earnest. "Ceitainly, Alice. Oo<l hat reached out! to tne so many rich blessings, that there is j only room for gratitude in my soul/ Look ; there. It was just as I saw them when 1 i broke into the chamber that night, when the j turning poin. in my career caiue,and I have j walked on to wealth and fatno eier since." Lucius Brante drew aside tho covering, and the sunset poured all over the paintings a sudden baptism from heaven. It would nave brought the leers into your eyes with the first glance. A mother and her child sat together over n heap of smouldering ashes. Both were very beautiful, but there was a mingling of despondency and tenderness in the mother's face?a look of patient wait j ing in the boy's dark eyes, which overreaches all description. "God must have sent llis angel to that man's heart, or he would never have bought my pictures. 1 always believed it, Alice." And the artist's soul glowed in Ilia proud face as he turned to his companion. Their eyes met a moment. Lucius Brante dollars a piece! lie wa.1} a plain, ordiuaiy looking sort of a man loo, apparently hot much of? conti'risscur ?r. pnintings cither. I?ut I could have fallen down at his feet and worshipped hiift I" "Papa, papft, did yotfbi ing your little boy the cake ?" and tlie soft cheek of the child was pre?sod up tft his father's. "No, dear," gathering him lo his heart, "but papa will get you a dozen now: nnd Newell and mamma shall ne\er be hungry ; again. Wc vvjll have a tire, and such a sup per as we haven't had for -years. God has sent his angel when the rlarkpess was deep | est/ Let us thank liim. ' atid they knelt i down there on the old hearth-bricks, in the gathering darkness, and the prayer of the artist seemed a heart hallelujah, that muxt have reached up through the song of seiapli and arch angel to the 1 loath White Throne ! Again we change the scene. "Well, Watkins, my good man, did you get the picture* I" Alice licade asked tlie question with breathless eagerness, as she met her servant at the door. "Yes, ma'am; here they are safe nnd sound, four of 'em," said the man, hustling mysteriously into the npnrlment, and depositing the large package on the table, for Watkins was an especial favorite with both Iris master and mist l ess. "Ar.d did you *ee the artist ?" "Yes, ma'am, and paid the thousand dollars into his own hands. He seemed struck dumb with astonishment, lie's had some hard tus?els with life, I reckon. Somehow it did me good to plank down the money," added the shrewd but kind-hearted man servant. "And you remembered my charge?" And he thought they were purchased fur vour self?" "In course lie did, I could have got tliom i for a twentieth pnrt of the mutter, hut you mi id ho was to have it all : and so I set my own price. Will you havo 'ein hung in the parlor ?" "No, I will take care of litem. N U even Mr. Reade must know I purchased them. You understand. Walk ins ?" There was a significant answer in the man's face as lie bowed himself out of the room. Alice's aunt was dying. " "Alice, Alice, come nearer to me," said the dying woman, and she drew down Iter neicc's head almost to her lips. Alice lien le's face grew white asthe death stricken one beneath it, whitest lie struggling, disjointed sentences came over Mrs. Jlenlev's lips. . "Thai letter?you remember i Lucius Hratite did not write it. lie knew nothing of it. He was not false to you. I wrote it, I that you might marrv " a sudden con- j vnlsioh left her speechless, hut her dying eyes I pr;?ye<l ' Forgive me This last year had made Alice Reade a ; better woman, and Iter white li| s answered ; the question of those dim eyes with solemn earnestness. "May <?od forgive yon. aunt had reatl them many times lwfore. It wrts hardly slrango that he now translated the thought, which the lip-; beneath them would not for world* have uttered. Alice, you had something to do with those pictures P Iler team answered him. An hour Inter ho had drawn all from her?an hour later he knew she was the earthly savior of himself, his wifo and hi* child. It was one of lTfo's consecrated hours. I cannot look into it! But the next week, Newell Brnntc, the 1 . I I ? ? ? a -l ' - ? urown-uuircu cnuu 01 ine arii-a, oouglit many flowers of the country children who brought wild roses from the fields about Florenco, saying, with his father's smile, "I shall Iihvc a new mother to-night !n 3l!isrrllnnrDD5, llfniitui?. IfllOCS . Suctmnqi) i'l Itot|lS).! Tnr. effort to impress the public with the! belief that the Democratic nominee for ihe| Presidency possesses a cold and selfish lent-1 pelament, from the fact that lie is a bathe- j lor, is defeated by the general knowledge of the high social qualities and gonial disposi | ti -n of that accompli-hcd and distinguished statesman, and by the sadly romantic and touching circumstances which dosed tot lit nt the joys of connubial life. These will! bo related in the forthcoming number ofi limpet's Magazine, (an advanced sheet of which we have obtained,) and from which | no copy the following : Some years ago a member of the United I States Senate, distinguished not only for his ! talents but for his flno personal appearance, t was seated in a richly-furnished parlor in I the city of Washington, engaged in a lively conversation with one of most amiable and accomplished mnrried Indies that ever honored our national capital with their presence. The subject was the common and most a \ giceable one of marriage; and the lady,! with a beautiful enthusiasm natural to her character, was pressing upon the notice of her distinguished bachelor friend the claims of a young female friend, whose position in' society, amiable dis|R>siiion. and liberal edu- i cation, eminently rendered lier fit to be the j wife of a distinguished statesman, who had seemingly already spent too many years : without a proper companion to divide his honors and bear with mm the ills ot life. The gentleman, who had for a long time entered with hearty good-will into the half seiioqs mid half playful conversation, slid I dvnly became excited, and remarked, that ho could on such a subject bear all that was said in jest, but when set ions arguments weto brought to urge him to change his condition, then his reply must be that such j a thing could never be?that to lovo he J could not, for his nfTcctions were iu the i grave. The lady was struck with the Senator's , | manner, and surprised that throughout her long acquaintance w ith him site had never j I .suspected that he had found time, amidst>hc 1 i struggles of a laborious profession-and a high ' political position, to '.fail in love." Willi ' i the blandishments only known to tin? sex,1 and vyith u curiosity prompted by tlie kindj est of lioatts, she nsked for an explanation of j this seeming mystery, and the gentleman, for the moment oveiconie by the eloquence of his interlocutor, explained as follows : "It was my good fortune, soon after I entered upon the active duties of my profession, to engage the affections of a lovely giil alike graced with beauty of person and high j social position. Ilev mother, her only living parent, was ambitious; and, in the) thoughtless desire to make an alliance .of fashion, opposed the union of her child with one who had only his talents and the future! to givo in return for 60 much beauty And i wealth. The young lady, however, was more i disinterested; mutual vows of attachment were exchanged, a correspondence and fre- ! ft ^ . I >. biioo/ia/I.iiI n o / I ' (|UCIIl [KTMJllill llivci viv>*n euuvvucu, <iimi the future seemed to promise a ino>,t happy j consummation of all our wishes. At that ' time I hud just commenced, under fuvornhle j circumstances. my profession in my nntive j town ; and, making soine character, was fi-1 nully engaged hp counsel in a suit of iinpor- ! tanco befoto one of ilio courts holden in the city of Philadelphia. The opportunity was favorable to make an impression if I possessed the ability to do so ; and I gladly accepted the position, and bent my whole energies to accomplish my ambition. Arranging to write frequently to one who divided my heart wi?h my business duties, and to receive frequent epistles in return, I set out for Philadelphia, expecting to he absent at most not more than two weeks. The law V I delay*, howover, detained me a mouth 1h?-| yond the anticipated time ; and, although 1 j succeeded lieyond my mo>t sanguine expec j (hlions, ami established myself in a position , before the highest oouit of my native State,] my triumphs were dashed that in all tlx j time thus engaged I had rot received a liin from Lancaster, instead ?l which, the atinoapheff was tilled with riur.o s that the person upon whom I hud set my affections liad I ecu seduced into the ambitious designs ot her thoughtless parent, and that I had been discarded ? a thing I conW not believe, nnd yet tvhfcll the dfolulftil faience wtettted toett?loi 1 "At Inst, released from my engagement, I took the u-u-.d, mid, in those days, the only conveyance to Lancaster?the stage. Tho idleness consequent upon travelling g?*? time for con*tuning thoughts, and my suspense became painful 'o the last degree ; and, unable to boar the slow pace of my conveyance, I determined to anticipate the usual time of my journey, bv making tho last miles on horseback. In carrying oht this determination, I mounted >e tieet Steed ^ but just as 1 reached the suburb* of my native place, rhe animal, from some unaccountable cause, s-prahg front the road, threw me with force, breaking my arm and otherwise injur* ing my person. Picked up by my friends, I was conveyed helpless and full of physical and mental agony to my home. Scarcely had the surgeon* porfolfned the ncecssary duties, than one. whom 1 esteetned n friend, announced to me the gossip of the tillage, and, among other things, detailed the particulars of the courtship and engagement of the young lady in whom I was so interested with n wrll known person of a neighboring city?a person whose claims to i? gard no one could dispute. Those things, stated with such apparent good faith, connected with that featial silence of six long week*, had no other (fleet than to iuerea-e niv anxiety to unravel the mystery; and n the following morning, concealing my wounded limb under a cloak, probably pate and haggard, I piesentcd inyn'lf nt the innusiou of my mistress. I was received in the presence of the mother. She confirmed my suspicions. The young lady stood by. the picture of despair, yet silent as the grave.? Desperate at what seemed this bad faith, I returned to mv house, wrote a hasty letter demanding my correspondence, and returning at the same lime, every once cherished token of nttection. 1 received all 1 sent for, save, perhaps, some forgotten flower. "That night the young lady accompanied l?y a female servant, left, for Philadelphia.? Arriving at her uncle's bouse, she complain* ed of being fatigued with her journey, and retired to her room. Complaining of some serious pain, only soothed by narcotics, she sent her faithful hut unsuspecting servant and fiiend to a neighboring drug store for laudanum, received it, expressed the wish to I be alone, and seemingly letired to sleep.? ! The following morning, not making her api j^arance, the family became alarmed, broke i open the door, and found the young lady j dead?in her hand the little keepsake re; tained from my correspondence. The uncle, | as if comprehending the particulars which i led to this dreadful tragedy, had the body encotliiied. and with it returned to Lancaster. 1'lacing nil tlint remained of this ones lovely being in the parlor, he brought tho mother forward, and displayed, what he was pleased to term, the result of her work. "I was sent for, and arrived to witness the eloquent agony of that mother's heart.? Over tho cold remains of tho dauglrar slier revealed the particulars that led to tho awful result. My letters and hers, by untiring industry, tbe command of large resources, and paid agents, had all l>een intercepted.? Thereason of my prolonged almence in Philadelphia had he?-n explained its the result of tho fascinating charms of city belles; even * an engagement had been pronounced. All this while the victim had been full of hope. She had heard of my arrival in Lancaster, but not of my accident; for long weary hours she sat in Die parlor waiting my presence, but doomed to disappointment. Here was seeming indifference, a confirmation of all that she had heard. On the other side, I was made the dupe of the mother's arts, and the fiend who had poisoned my ear wasmerely the agent to carry forward the great wrong. The last interview I have described, which resulted in tbe return of correspondence, was enshrouded ii> the consequences of all these plans. Tho result was deathto one party, and the burial of tho heart of tho other, in the same grave that dosed over one who could not survive tlio wreck of her affections." Many years liave passed away sinCo the incidenU detailed in the above sketch trw?spired; many \em? since they were revived by the accidental conversation in a family circle of Washington society ; hut the country strangely become* interested in the event, from the fact that the White House may possibly have a bachelor for its occupant ; but one, not so because indifference to w?> man, but really from tbo highest appreciation of one of the loveliest of the sex. (loon 11 I'M on.? It is the clear bine sky o? the Boiil, on which every star of talent \Vilf shino more clearly, the sun of genius encoun- % ter no vapors in fiis passage. It is the most exijinsi.e beauty of a fine face; n redeeming grace in a homely one. It is like the greet* In a landscape f uumon wing overy color,meli : .1 . ? t.i -i A f lowing wie iigiii, nnci aoiienuig ine nnror llio dark ; or, like tins Hulls in tho full tfoiw* ceil of instrument*, around not at flr*t diw covered by the ear, yet tilling up the bnkcrr in the concord with it* deep melody. 1'vb Voted.'?My dear sir, said a eandi-' date, accosting aaturdy wagon the day of election, "I'm very glnd to ..ee you." "iFou uccd'nt he ?I've voted." + > * I ' . I ^ -