University of South Carolina Libraries
?? - - m I ill eeB?WAl* WLZ?MTW ?@ A K7L ** * ' sttae-sa*e5*^xai?**?*?tt=r??tise*e5**aaa*eee*adh*fcB=ua?*s*VOL. 3. GREENVILLE, S. C.: THURSDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 18, 1856. NoTl9. ' I . 1 1 _ . ' i fntrtljmt (gntfrprise, 1 KEFLEX OF TOPULAR EVENTS | jp. ipi&iiosb, < EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. I 91 60, Mnbl? in advance ; $3 if delayed. 1 CLUBS ( FIVE and upwards $1, the money I la every instonee to accompany the order. DVgttTlSKMKXTS inserted oonspieuonaly at : the rate* of 16 oeuts per square of 18 lines, and | U eente for each subsequent iusertiou. Con- 1 AGRNTS. 1 E. W. Cans. K. W. car. of Walnut and Tbird-st, ! PUUMpLU, U ?sr aaftksrlssd A-ent. IW. W. Walkbr, Jr., Columbia, 8. a Parrs Stoadlkt, Esq., Flat Dock, X. C. A. M. PsDte, Kalrview 1*. O., Greenville Dint. 1 Wilua* C. Dauby, Pleasant Grove, Greenville- j Carr. R. Q Asosasuy, Cedar Falls, Greenville. $>eltrtrb ^nrtrq. ; i/: ^ l l ovr_ r xi*yif? c by u. sinclair diud. My loart U str&ftgely sad to uiglit; Tears flow into my cyos; The thought* that struggle into light f Turn into heavy sighs. ti ii I feel as though my heart would speak t With some heart still in death, u And there comes warin upon my check '' Some de ir one's dying broath. ^ The last! last 1 words that over came Through the lips cold and white? A snatch of aoug ? a prayer?n name? j Come to my cur to-night. c % q Trembling with awo I silent tread c The hours nil dark with death, a And sobbing lean u|>od the bed, Ii ^ And watch the failing breath. On this sweet spot I drop a tear: p Sod voices cheer the gloom: J Two loving brothers slumber here? ^ Two brothers in one touib ? p Their whole life like an open book The heurt sits down and reads; sl The language is the laugh?the look : G It sighs, it weeps, it bleeds !. It ueeds not words: it scorns the word : It looks on life through death : The holy air mutt not be stirred : ? p No J not e'en by a breath! o c Leaves rustle softly on my ear! l< I see the brandies wave: A lovely ribbon tree grows here, " And beautifies this grave. It sprang from death that once was life: J.' Thou ail a salted tree! t| For the dear dust of a young wife il And mother nourished thee : f* ii I look, the mother's bosom heaves o With sorrow for hur dead : # The star lit dew upon thy leaves Seem tears that mother shed. ^ And dlikl A* precious ai.d us fair SI Now sleep beneath thy shade: A father and his son sleep here? c Here a sweet babe was laid. a n. 4 ' Death's shadow darkens every .door; And even now I hear a The death wing sweep across some floor : a I shake with sudden fear! -art jnimiuuwuua jvnuirog. Ibe Soot SUck. b* phillip barrett. About a hundred years ago, there lired In the city of Oxford, Eugiand, a boy whose anise was George, lie was very poor, so snail that he was compelled to dean the boots of the students at the University to obtain money with which to buy the necessaries of life. His countenauee was one of an ordinary appearance. His eye was keen and piercing Ck'\* forehead noble and lofty ; and every feature of his face was perfectly developed. By his easy and polite manners, his obliging disposition, nnd his warm nod generous nature, he soon won the ooutidence and esteem of many of those upon whom he waited. Th^overty of his dothing served hint belier to show the richness of imnd which only needed coltitatloa to make it one of the brightest in the whole eountry. The students of the University seeing such noble Qualities in their lowly nnd humble * boot Meek, determined to educate him, and i ' ' **?* \ *' * many of thern devoted no little share of tlieir i lime to that purpose. Tbey found him I lendy, willing and studious. He lost not a I moment of his precious time, but applied ' himself diligently, pcrseveringlv to his stu- 1 dice, and soon became an equal if not a su- > perior to some of his instructors. ? His advancement was very rapid ; so groat < was it that numbers wero unable to recog- I nixe in the gifted and talented young man, 1 the once poor and needy boot black.? ? About (Lis lime there was a great change < in tbo religion of Kngland. There arose a < reel, which from the peculiar habits of its , members, tbeir strict observance of the fc>ab- * mtlh, tbeir faithful reading of God's word, I rod tbeir frequent and stated engagements < n prayer, was called Methodists. With t his party George immediately connected I liinself, and soon became one of its ablest I rod most consistent members. The youths < vho once sought his company, now treated 1 >im with sneering contempt. Those who unco considered him a young nan of extraordinary abilities, then connd>red hi in a reckless fanatic, and avoided bis ociety as they would have a worthless \ truukard. All ibis did not raovo hiiu. lie f ras as lirm as a rock. Nothing could c Imnge him. Like Modm, lie preferred a ?. ittle of Christian consistency to the enjoy- r ucnt of phi tor a season. ilia unchanging t ouduct won for him many warm and nr- t iciif ivdrsirera, and numbers who formerly r landed him us n fanatic, became his best r riends. I have not time, childreu to say c rauch more concerning the character of this | nt cresting young man. It will be sufficient o add, that lie soon became one of the l a oat pious and talented preachers in Elig- r ?nd, and such numbers flocked to hear him r hat the largest houso in London could not i, onlain than. lie preached in the open fields to thous- h nds upon thousands, ami the great amount n f good w hich he did, eternity shall tell.? v )ear boys, do not mind the sneers of your v ouipanious. Do your duty, let the conse- tl [ueuces be what they may. Be industrious, s nergetie. Don't mind difficulties. They nly make your arm stronger, and your c leurt braver. If this poor boy could arise t rom the lowly position of a boot black to n hat of one of the moat pious and eloquent t 'Teachers England over produced, cannot ou go and 4do likewise!' You liavo no b lea what you can do *111 you try. Energy s oiubined with earnest prayer will acconi ? li-jh the mo6t difficult task. Boys would you like to know tlio name (| f the boy who blacked the boots of the M indents at Oxford University! It i< d !gorge Whitfield. a icgl iq of h. >t A paragraph is going the rounds the pa- 91 ers giving the opinion of Lord Bacon aud titers, thai the pain of hanging is incotisid- ] rable. It is asserted, for example, that af e i: e .../r _ -. t * * itm uioiiu'iiiurv levuiig 01 suuucmion, oiigut o!<V* dance before the eyes and etietch n ray into >Utiv? vf ind<j$<;ribaV!<? loveliness, here ih no reason to doubt the truth of this u eelaratii'ii, because numerous instances 11 are occurred of persons being cut down be J! >re life was extinct; and it was on the auliority of well authenticated examples cf P Ids character that Lord llacon ntid others ^ niiwled their opinion. Moreover, hanging, '' i its eft??ct to tlie human organism, produ- " es results very similar to thoso produce*! by i>me nut oral diseases, so that this also nf- e >ids a criterion for judging. In cuAes of '' rowning, likewise, the testimony is univer- r< id that the physical pain, up to the moment I1 f .'.6tHcK.iUt.6ss being lost, i? quite incon- '* idcrcblo. The same phenomena of motes, 11 (his and beautiful liglits dancing l>etoro the * yes, lias often been mentioned bv individu 11 Is restored after apparent death by drown- ? "g. I It is nearly cerlaiu?indeed, as certain as P nythiug chiefly speculative can he?that in 8 II deaths the physical suffering is small.? Sven whete invalids experience the most 8 xcruciating agony during the progress of he disease, nature come* to their relief at 8 be last hour, and life goes out gently, like " i candle in its socket. Those who have 0 ritnesaed death beds most frequently, espe- * ially if they have been intelligent persons, \ ? m ?i / !. j t i na IDereiure capsuie 01 judging, agree genrally in considering the physical nain of [ leath as inconsiderable. They say that the onrulsive motions, which frequently attend ' he parting breath, are not evxleuce* of suf ering, for that tho invalid is insensible.? Tbey say also, that, when tbe senses are ieained, there is usually no suoh spasm. A t ending medical authority states that scarce- < y one person in fifty is sensible at the point I >f death ; and some physicians assert that a hey have never seen a death-bed in which < be patient was sensible. Aa life fails, na- i lure, it would seem, benefleiently interposes, i lead suing the seusibility of the nerves, and ? otherwise preparing the individual for the I great and inevitable change. I Those facts should teach alt men, while * ret in health, "to put their houses in order.'' Many a father, by neglecting to make a will, or keep bis tmareesa always arranged, ; has left his finally aa inberitaaoc of litigation, or entailed oa theas the severest lasses. < Few a?0 these, comparatively, who, oa a ' lick bed, have sufficient clearness of intellect left to adjust entangled affairs, provide for the contingencies cf trade, or eveu direct wisely the distribution of their estates.? Death usually comes rapidly in the shape of i short diseaac, leaving time for nothing but i hopeless struggle with the enemy. Or it xunes so insidiously as to beguile the vicim and his friends, up to the lust hour, .vilh the hope of recovery, or at least of nonth* of prolonged life. Men dread sudien death, and pray to be delivered from it*! 'orgetling that, to most of us, death is always sudden, coining, as the Scripture truly lays, "like n thief ill the night'1 It is not or its physical pain that men should fear leath, hut lest it should overtake them ere hey have "<?et their house in older." To >e leaving a family unprovided for, or to lave put off arrangements for settling up ine's affairs, is the real pang of the dying tour.?Philadelphia. Ledger. So hi ci tj oiiohicn. Wis like homely women. We have alvays liked them. We do not carry the peluliarity far enough to include the hideous ?r positively ugly, for since beauty and mony are the only capital the world will rocoglize in woman, they aro more to l>? pitied han admired ; but we have a chivalric, enhusiastic legurd for plain women. We tevnr miw nno tvl,s. ? ?- .?--J ... ...... ..n.' n?i iiiuumi, uitassuning, and sweet tempered, and have seldom nine across cue who was not virtuous and tad not a good heait. Made aware early in life of iKeir want of entity by (he slighted attentions of the op osite se.x, vanity and affectation never take ool in their heart*; and in the hope of sup lying attraetions which a capricious nature las denied, they cultivate the graces of the earl instead of the person, and give to the iiind those accomplishments which the rorld so iniely appreciate in woman, but rhicb are more hisiing. and in the eyes of nen of sense more highly prized, than pcronal beauty. See tbcm in the street, at home, or in the hurcli, and they are always the same, and he smile which ever lies u|>on the ta?c is iot forced there to fasciuate, but is thesponaneous sunshine retiectcd from a kind heart ?a flower w hich lakes root in the soul and looms upon the lij s, inspiring respect inlead of passion, emotions of admiration intead of sensual regard. Plain wuineu make good wives, good mohers, cheerful homes, and happy husbands, nd we never see one but wu thank heaven list it has kindly created women of souse s well as beauty, for it is indeed seldom a ; untie is found |K?*se.s?ing both. To hoiuely women we therefore lift, our i ile' iu respect; the world will extend the i nine courtesy to beauty. j i s. ?^Mingtcn on 8 u r -, (>ir13e ??ilrtic3. -They're nil very well, surpriso parties re," said Mrs. Partington, laying her knit ing work in her lap and putting her specs p on the oof of her cap. where thev stood ko two liilhernn windows with a southern rorp.ft. 'They're nil very well where 'Iks are prepared for'ein?where they have lie sandwiches and cold haiu all cut and ried, with the lemonade in the goblins, and le coffee in the tureen all ready to be turnd out; but where they come like an army, i uugiy as bears and hypothcncusos and' rady to cat one up, with no provisions tade or cooked for 'oin, heaven help us I it <r.u,-"2- P-'pto ,nfty much as Ltey may and say they arc dreadful glad to L-e 'cm and nil that, but my opinion is that hey would bo glad to eee 'em a good way ff at the time. Hut when they carry things kith 'em, as they do to ministers, and eur rise 'em with donatious of doughnots and ilver piatoa, that is a different matter.? rVLen our minister lost money in railroad hears that cut him off short, his parish gin lira a surprise party, and helped him along urprinirigly. They are good when they'ie managed like that." She stopped as a beam if reflected sunshine came iuto her eyes vith blinding force, filling her with surprise is the sun 'ay by the west, but could she lave seen the sly look which Ike bore, on be opposite corner, as he thrust a piece of ooking-glnss into bin pocket, the would lave no longer wondered. That boy was ividently a party to hor surprise. A beautiful, superstition prevails among bo Seneca tribe of Indians. When an Inlian maiden dies, they imprison a young >ird until it first begins to try its powers of tong, and then loading it with kissea and saresees, they loose its bonds over the grave, n the belief that it will not fold its wings nor close its eyes until it has flown to the ipirit land and delivered ite precious burden to the loved and lost. It is not unfrequent to see twenty or thirty birds let loose over me grave. jtar A waggish spendthrift said MFive years ago 1 was not worth a cent in the world; now see where 1 am through roy own exertions." "Well, where are you!"? "Why 1 owe more than M,000." * 1JV L. ViaOINIA FRENCH. We were within a mile of tho village. The twilight was fast closing in around us, tho mountain's peaks to eastward luyfcliko dim clouds along the horizon, and the fiist star of eve sprang suddenly into the 6ky, as Ave dashed through alittle murmuring stream, and wounu blo^yly up tho gentle ascent beyond. On oho side lay a Held of waving corn, but 011 the other the lofty trees of a forest like grove crowded down to the road, and swayed their plumy branches to the refreshing breeze of evening. Gaining the summit of the eminence wc were again plunging forward at a brisk trot, when tiic coach sudiukltf 1 1 -? *1-1- - - ' vit.uj tainu w tt SIU11U, UI1U A IOOKCU Ollt to ascertain the cause. At this moment i a gentleman advanced hastily from the large white gate which opened iu- , to the park-like enclosure, saying as lie advanced: "Good evening, Mr. K , any of my folks with you to night?" "No Sir, not this time," responded ' the driver, "golang there," and he . touched up his horses, and was about 1 to move forward. ( "Stay a moment, "I'll go with 3*011, your mails have news for mc doubt less." "Very well, inside if you please." < And the tall gentleman sprang in, and quietly took u seat in front of me. 1 "Good bye J" it was a clear, sweet voice from out the shadow. 1 started \ and glanced toward the gate. A little ' white figure, before unnoticed, was < closing it, and as we drove off, I 1 Bftw the light form glide like a spirit ' down the deep shaded avenue, and in a 1 moment it was lost amid the surround- j ing gh?om. True it was a little figure,! but I knew it was not a child, for no:1 child's voice is 60 full of the tender 1 pathos that comes but with years. "Good-bye !" it was sweetly spoken, but the lmshand did not hear it, be] sat on the opposite side, and the voice j was drowned amid the rattle of the; wheels, and trampling of the horses, as i the old coach moved on. 1 say lmsband. for I know that it was a icifdts; "good-bye,"?so full was the low tone I of earnest tenderness,?so fraught with j die love that only woman's heart enn 4 know,?and timidly littered withal, as 1 if she feared to betray her heart's deep ' secret to the ear of a stranger, and 1 hoped it would be heard only, as it ( was only intended for him. I "I thought they certainly would have reached home to-night," was ut ' tcred half audibly, and I turned to look ' at my companion. As nearly as I could I see by the faint light which broke up- ' on us, as we emerged from the shad- { ows of the woodland, he was a large, fine looking man, with Roman features, < and much of that unconscious air of I mingled courtesy and command, wliicn < is a distinguished characteristic of the true Southern gentleman. And who i were "theyf" Near and dear ones ' they must have been, for she had i come to the gate with him to we?- < come them. Was it a poor friend < ?a reverend parent?a long absent brother?a well beloved sister i I could I not tell; and so as we rattled along, I < fell into a fit of musing. I followed the \ little white figure whose gentle "good- 1 bye" still lingered upon iny ear to her 1 home, which lay nestled behind those ; tall shadowy trees. I felt as though ? something good and beautiful had gone, ? and we were journeying on alone. In < an hour, perhaps, the husband would 1 return, and the same sweet voice would welcome him. for this "iroofl-bve" wan only for a little while?you could tell i that?for there was no grief in it, it was only modest and hopeful, and loving. And then 1 thought to myself? how is it with them ? Does this proud looking husband neo&r hear the soft "good-Dyes" which go out to him from the gentle heart he leaves behind ? Is the sweet cadence of that voice always drowned amid the rush and rattle of life's onward wheels?crushed out of heart by the din of the world's dusty and crowded thoroughfares ? It may be so. and it may not?/connot tell, it may bo so, for there are many such. Something beautiful is ever telling us "good-byoyet, oh 1 how often aoes the sweet sad voice of farewell! fall upon our world deafened ears unheard, or if heard, perchance unheedod I The glad, careless hours of childhood, the sunny days of yonth, the proud yoara <>t maturity as they pass, give us oner by one their gentle "good-bye" ere tlicy close the gate, and flit away into < the dim shudow land of the past. I Father ! night and morning bend* ; ing to thy task ; toiling daily in the i crowded marts, the toiling, moneyed < slave of Mammon, look up a moment 1 from trie yellow, blinding dust, and i listen ?a faint svycet vpice is telling i yon "good-bye!" The fair and thought- t liil-eycd eliild angel'which came to i your home singing with the morning i horn the portals of Paradise, will re- i turn thither ere the dew has gone up i from its amaranthine blossoms. The 1 hour approaches when the white gate r. will close upon him, when you will j hear liis last "good-bye" through grief- > moans, and strive to look alter him ? through hitter, hut unavailing tears. ( Throw aside the ledger for awhile? take up the Book of Heavenly Truth, i see that your name be written by his, 1 in the Lamb's Book of Life, so shall 1 you surely follow \ our child angel to a tland where there "are none that weep, 1 and none that sigh, and none that say ? farewell !" j Husband ! listen, and listen earnest- i ly?for a low, lovei voice is bidding 1 you farewell which your dull car can- t nut hear. Her name will soon he add- t ed to the list of whom this is the only ? record?"she lived?she loved?she ^ Al~A J ?J * *1 M1 uitu. Auu guou anu oeautlliu will |> have closed the whito gate, pas9Cu ! awa)' into the shadows of the afterward, and you will journey on alone. Then, I oil! then, like an arrow to the heart i will come back the memory of her i juict smile, the echo of her clear, ring- < ng luugli, and the glad sound of her > iheertul greeting \ The ruined shrine i will be sacred then, though its sweet light has forever faded ; the broken al- i tar stone, with its ashes of perfume, be < hallowed still by fond association, I though the heart's ideal incense has ; ceased to rise like a veil over its had- i den sanctuary. ] Children ! pause amid your play, 111A for a moment listen. The voice of 1 a pale and patient mother, growing 1 fainter day by day is telling you * 'good-bye." If you could enter Ilcav- 1 en's portals betore her, and so return i to God ere ye have learned to weep for 1 her, happy are ye. But if not, ye will I live to remember that there was a love 1 which, like the light-house ray threw I out its pulsating radiance far into the I night and tempest of the world; you i will remember one whose life was love; i ,vho looked down with tearful eyes up- 1 >n your infant slumbers; who clasped 1 your tiny hands and bade you say, b 'Our Father who art in Heavenr who watched and prayed for you s wherever you wandered, and whenever j. you wept; who blest you going, who u ? ?1-~ 1 ?? jwu 1 Vii 141 i; Illgj iiuu \\ I1<J IUI"- I >;ot you never ! Oh ! weary wayfarer on the thoroughfare of life, listen, aud recall, if thou can'st, the sad, sweet voices that jverinore are telling thee "good-bye !" ?"good-bye !" Listen till the good md the beautiful come back to thee in he realms of imagination and memoy, till the air is lull of the odors of the .tldcn time, and musical with the far ,>ff chiming of its Sabbath bells. Call back again the voice of bird and blossom, things which long ago have mid good bye to thee; the laughter of the little rill ore you left it to launch forth upon the broad rushing river ol life, the sweet low tones of home ere your hearts had ever thrilled to the diock and jar of the great world without. People its low halls and its COZY chambers with the voices of the dream- I less dead, and the language of Heaven , which they now speak strive thou to i understand. And most of all, old mor- < tal, listen earnestly to the warnings of thy guardian angel, grieve liim not ] lest lie turn away with the saducst of iarewell8?but be thou of those who "know his voice:" and are led by him unto that pleasant land where we shall even forget the meaning of those earth ly words "good-bye,"?"good-bye/" [Nastoulo Patriot. JhtlMiiolrjLobet. BY WASHINGTON IRVING. During the siege of Damascus, Dcrnr was appointed to patrol round the city and the camp with two thousand horso. As a party of these was one night going the rounds near the walls, they heard the distant neighing of a horse, and. looking narrowly around, scried a horseman coming stealthily from the gate Kenan. Halting in a shadowy place, they waited until he came closo to them, when, riiBhing forth, they made him prisoner. He was x youthful Syrian, richly and gallantly iirraved, aiid apparently a person of listmctiun. Scarcely hud they seized liin, when they beheld another horsenoil issuing from the same gate, who, n u soft;ypice, called upon their capive, by the name of Jonas. They comnamled the latter to invite his comp&n011 to advance* lie 6ecined to reply, uid called out something in Greek; ipon hearing which, the other turned jridle and galloped back into the city. The Arabs, ignorant of Greek, and suspecting the words to be a warning, ,vould have slain the prisoner 011 the (pot, but, upon second thmndo wulucted him to Klialed. The youtli avowed himself a noblouau ol Damascus, ami betrothed to a jcautiful maiden named Eudocea; hut lcr parents, from some capricious rea- m ion, had withdrawn their consent to lis nuptials ; whereupon the lovers had iccretly agreed to fly from Damascus. A sum of gold had bribed the sentinels ivho kept watch that night at the gate. L"lie damsel, disguised in male attire, , md accompanied by two domestics, bllowing her lover at a distance, as lie iallied in advance. llis reply in Greek, vhen she called upon him was, "that ;ho bird is caught," a warning, at the nearing of which she fled to tlie city. Klialed was not a man to be moved iiy a love tide ; but ho gave the prison;r his alternative, "Embrace the taith >f JLslam," said lie, "and when Damas;us falls into our power you 6liall have four betrothed ; refuse and your head u the forfeit." The youth nauscd not between a scionetar and a bride, lie made immediate profession of faith between tho bauds of Klialed, and thenceforth fought jealously for the capture of the city, jiuce its downfall was to crown his liope3. When Damascus yielded to its foes, tie sought the dwelling of Eudocea, and learnt a new proof of her affection. Supposing 011 iiis capture by the Arabs, that he had fallen a martyr to his faith, die had renounced the world, and shut licrself up in a convent. With a throbbing heart he hastened to the convent, but when the lofty minded maiden boiiold liim a renegade, slio turned from aim with scorn, retired to her cell, and refused to see him more. JSIi? ? TT ao a" nong the noblo ladies who followed L'hoinas aud Hubris into exile. Iler over, frantic at tbe thoiiglit of ^losing ler, reminded Khalcd of his promise to estore her to him, and entreated that he might be detained ; but Khaled deaded the covenant of Aba Obediah, iccording to which all had lree leave o depart. AY ben Jonas afterwards discovered hat Khaled meditated a pursuit of the :xiles, but was discouraged by the apse ot time, he offered to conduct hiin >v short and secret passages through he mountains which would insure nis ivertaking them, llis offer was aceoped. On the fourth day after the de>arture of the exiles, Khaled set out in jursuit, with lour thousand chosen lorsemeu, who, by the advice ofJonas, vere disguised as christian Arabs. For lomc time they traced the exiles along ho plains, bv the numerous foot prints >f mules ana camels, and by the art!;les thrown away to enable them to travel more expeditiously. At length die foot prints turned towards the mountains ot Lebanon, and were lost in their Eirid aud rocky detilcs. The Mnai???? began to falter. "Courage!" cried Jonas, "they will be entangled among the mountains; they cannot jiow escape." In the midst of the carnage and confusion, Jonas hastened in search ot betrothed. She hud treated him with disdain as a renegade, she now regarded him with horror, as the traitor who had brought this destruction upon his unhappy countrymen. All his entreaties lor her to forgive and be reconciled to him were of no avail. She solemnly vowed to repair to Constantinople ind end her days in a c.rnv ent. Finding supplication fruitless, lie seized her, and alter a violent struggle, threw her on the ground and made her prisoner. She made no further resistance, but submitting to captivity, seated hcreel 1 piictlv on the grass. The lover flattered himself that she had relented, but, watching her opportunity, she sudden ly drew forth a Jpoignara, plunged it in her breast, and fell dead at his feet. tggrFtw are so wise as to prefer useful reproof to treael erous praise.