The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, August 07, 1856, Image 1
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ill Msso^rcqrjtife rnmmns ?@ . 1
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VOL 3. GREENVILLE, S. C.: THURSDAY HORSING, AUGUST 7, 1S5C. SO. 13 ]
ii- III I'
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I AOjtN,TSft
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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."
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