?? - - 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.