Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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,.A 0~"~c4* ' -4 g -, -Y.~'i -). . , .. !"', Z ' C,"~ 1X". 11 i3.7nir.' ig5i' ~ -~r~.tb, (~i- ~ t~,c,'w .-~n4 ,t 'r-.4~3j'*wj.- A 4A4 __ '4 t. 4, '7. 4! S 's C ";!'4..U .4'4 ir A r ! lk It 'UAilrlSU;tGaierI7 IW ILLLIAM 3. FKA NCI8. TERMSs T'oo Dol'lai* i advanee, Two Dollars and- I - #Fifty-conts at the expiration o.six monthster .4 Wrep Dollarmat: theiend ofthe year., No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at th optioi oft i1e Prolarietor 4 *rAdv tisements .inserted at 75 eta. per ( siquare, (1 liisaor lese,) for the first and -hglfthit. dunv'for-eAchiasubsequei insetion - -,OrThe iumber of insertions to bemarked otill Advertisnegnts or they will be publish. C ,ed.xuntl 9spired,.4o be discontinue4,.and ch re. accor ingly.,. i&OnetiDollar per square for a sipgle in sertion. Quarterly and Monthly Advertisc teiyl1l be'h'tged the same as a single 6rtleii, siid iemri-bieaithly the same as new .ones;, * n All Obituary Notices exceeding six lines, .and Comnunications recommendi ng Cand dates for public offices or trust-or puffing Exhibitions,.will be charged as Advertise- 0 .menti. . s - ,ErAll letters by mail must be paid to in- b sure punctudl attendance. 4111 I~sce1lanp.-I (WarTsN. FOR .ThEi DANNEI.) WhAT VA9 DONE BY THE RAIN! f BY TiE .ATE IYPoCNDRIAC. h [Concluded.] c We left the reader last week while conversing c wj l1 ~!rs., Furigne will resume it at present.] I -fE Ah,sirj you gentlemen will have your t jokei; Your better health, sir-for you S d not look very-well." aa 'Sh'iebhilspoken this with such pi- a tSypgteiiderness of tone that it has 0 gone' through 2my heart, and would, had % it been iron!-What makes my lips qui- ( vet in"jtongTe falter, my voice thick- il :eri:a. anunusual moisture come into h my.eyes?. One touching word of sym- p -pathy?-Am I then again accessible to - thoddblessed influences upon the heart X n y and human kind- ti .ness?, . Yes-then,I live again!-Oh! ti honey in the mouth, music to the ear, a d cordial to the heart, is the voice of wo. f< ifi thd melancholyjiours of man! e irs. FIurlon is called away, and I am d spared from making a fool of myself in u -herPrebence. Ah, Mary, I will not Cus'e Itieb with all the changes which time and disappointment have made in a my. heart.and feelings; but for some of t these thou must answer!-Thou wert myjirst hope and earliest disappoint Menti What I am thy little faith has e made' n ,what, I shold have been- c but .no matter--I feef how desolate a v ivretoh I ant how changed from all I v1s .nd ought to be-it'is thy work, it *why.dcd, and I forgive thee. Be- I hold me here, a broken-spirited main I withfurrowing cheeks and whitening E hiir* tears in my eyes and agony at my ti heart! Behold me an unsocial miai, h suspected by the world and suspecting b the world-I,.who trusted in it, loved n it, and would have benefited it! . But I o have dono with it now-I loathe it and fi avoidit/ - And why? Why am I now y harshofnature-uncharitablein thought, y if not'it speech-unforgetful of light y bffenecs--revengeful of deep ones-- n j9oloid of look6-watcliful of words?- I I that was gehtle, tender of others, to h myse. ere; forgiving, incapable of b anger, opon-minded, suspicionless!--But a pvhy should I anatomise myself? . a I give my heart, to the vultures among tl ' aen;-let them glut on it; and good fi *digestion wait upon their appetite!" d *'Did'you call, sir?"' 1 'No,' Madam; but I am glad youi atebsf for your coming in has inter- a tnt'~ melanchioly thought." * A melaricholy thought!-Lud, sir, do o yog garrender yourself to such a weak- t .ness an, melancholy?. Life, to be sure, 1I is a~sorious thing to the most cheerful of la :us;tbut to the over-anxious, and those d who groan under.its cores, death were i happier than such life!-The really:v hoay obligatlons of existence are wer- r thy of our gravest thoughts; but thet lighter elils the cares, and anxieties-e 1?~thedaysi kieiter allow them to a make a deeper inprssion on my mind than my pi. does Qn my, elate; wvhen 1 I havet satisfenn~yself jaa tQ the amount, a I rub the lines. off, ands begin again." r 'And am I to be taught philosophy - py~a J'lato ai petticp6ta,p4nd the econ- 1 omgy of life by a Dodgleya diminity?- -i fanowdimittie, then,.be my ditty! Par don my expressions, Madam the inso lence of humbled pride. Isit rebuked. 4 "Yott are a sensible. woman, Mrs. Fur Iong-haue,' apparently, right views of life; now tell rnie-wvhat is the end ofit?" 'Dath, 1 should think, sir." ...ti..Yofla an bQ, adan; but you aro '& the, wron premises. 11 amg op ny own.' 'Indeod-4au happy to hoar it; arnd I was a nidowathet'I should make 6 note of that.faot. teant,'Madam -r-what is the0dbi the Mtentionthei aoviqg Wotjve-poife?"p I , 6 better, workdla - ), 'Yes, Madam; but our hi mehi poeMa a'ni rtn III Isa iope.neer.pao.ur o rp6 at ays nm thosp otherI , what do hey merit, whoil qntrusted with so pre ious 'arist for oufieiieftjde itto s," nd"'thhadit~ fr tii .? P 'the same enheinessa ie ha ds f others.? '"What if you would not, if , you night, *iten one hii'r of hehei. headA ith sorr6w -ho pv. s, ilyered the rhole of yours--what do they merit?' 'They do not merit so much mercy.' She leaves the room.) - "Here is a woman 'with a tall man's eight,,". humbly stationed beside one f the low, highways of life-and tunned and distracted with the stir and ustle of the goers to and comers from lie shrine of the great' Baal, who has et contrived to keep heir -hart from ardening, and her soul inWhiter sim licity, in a common inn, than the inillking and secluded nun, shut up rom the world in a- convent.' There i indeed a soul of goodness in things vil!-an inborn grace, which" the world annot give and cannot takce, away! Pse how should this poor woman have Iat which so rany minds, so much afer placed to preserve their freshness nd native worth, have altogethet 'lost nd live without? One- half the vices f the world are only acts of conformity 'ith the prejudices of the world. live a man an ill name, and he wears :as if it. were a virtue and proper to im, and keeps up the tone of his ded ravitywith a due sense of its dtcorum -its keeping, and colour and costume, Vhien will the world learn better? Oh iou worst and vilest weed in the beau ful fields of human thought.-Preju ice--grow not in any path of mine, )r I will trample thee down to the arth which thou disgracest and must efile !--But "Thinking is an idle -aste of thought." "Waiter."-"Boy." '-Zur." "What, Cyclops again ! But that's prejudice too. Have you an enter Lining book in the house?' "Missuz have, I daur zay, Zur.' "Bring it then, my good fellow. A ange of thought to the mind like a liange of air to the body, refreshes, in igorates, and cheers.' "Here be one, Zur." "Aye, this will do-nothingso well. tobinson Crusoe ! Good! good! Ilesaings be on thee,. inimitable De loe!-for many a lingering hour hast iou shorteneJ, and many a heavy eart hast ihou lightcued. See the ook opens of itself at a page which a :an must be fathoms five in the Slough C Despond if he read it with a grave ice and a lack-lustre eye!-World, I bid ou good den.'--for here will I forget ou as you are, ard re-peruse you as ou were. . . Alh! I remember well iy first acquaintance with Robinson. was then a very serious, yet very appy boy---any book was a treasure, ut a stolen perusal of one like this was pleasure beyond all price and worth 11 risks; for works like this were among b~e profanities from which I was care ly debarred:--- -mistaken zeal! If iscovere~d in my hands, it was snatched way ; and if it escaped the fiery ordeal Brams well. But who shall control the trong desires of youth!---I remember, ao, the candle secretly purchased out f my limited penny of pocket-money; lhe early stealing to bed; the stealthy ghting of the,."fiaming minister" to ny midnight vigil; the unseen and un isturbed reading of this very book deep ito the hours of night; and the late raking ar.d pallid look, the effects of ny untimely watching. I remember, oo, how nearly my secret was discover *d; for laughing too loudly over the aerry miseies of poor Friday the thin vall, betrayed me : I rcmember, ere had breathed thrice , the sound of a tealing foot heard approaching my bed oom door---the light out in an instant -the book thrust dep down under the ied-clothes, and how I was heard snor ng sa uomnnolently, that I should have leceived Somnus himself." "Ya! ya! Massa, guess you did'urn rapitall~ "Eh? what!-what have you been mavesidropping at my elbow all this irno, you Titus Oates of a traitor?" "Yees, Zur-you didn't tell I to go.' "Go, bring in candles and a pint of ;herry---let down the' blinds-heap the ire--and don't distuth mei till I dis turb you." "Yeez. Zur-. And now fo roAbi son. apitall'excellent! inimitable an( immortal So .nd thy bones Ii onogtje~n an aleii's grave,, an not-astopm h n ,VAt-6.jndg'ep d he name of the mnstructor and td44g Sf maklnd- Wellhe is no. e opunting for t4o rgence, of nations * knocks? Com 'Do you mean to sleep,here to-ri ght sir?' "Sleep here, Mli-s. Furlong! No quite the reversc." "I thought you did, as it is so late. 9o late! how late?' "Eleven, sir. "Impossible! Have I been readinj so long'' "It is very true, sir.' "And what kind of night is it?' "Starry and the moon is rising." "What in May? Then let me have my bill, for I shdll be glad to witnesi such a phenomenon.' 'La, sir, it is ten miles to your town, t gentleman was stopped on this road only last week!' "How long did they stop him, Mrs. Furlong?' "Long enough to rob him of his watel and ten pounds, I assure you.' - "Well, as I have no watch, ard onlj live, they need not detain me half the time. And if I should come back, bare and barbarously beaten, like poor Joseph---I could not be in better hands than you. "I am glad to see you so merry, sir. "Merry, Madam! I never mean to be serious again, except at my own runeral, and then it will be expected of me that I should look grave. I have learnt, since that Ihave- been here, that melancholy is to be medicined by mile stones; that a slight attack of it is to be subdued by four of those communica live monuments taken in the mornin before breakfast, and four at night, fol. lowing supper; a severe one, by twenty littoj in two portions or potions, washed Iowin by three pints of sherry, and kept down by two mutton chops, and two volumes of Robinson Crnsoe-a prescription of more virtue than all which have been written front old Para eolsus's days to Dr. Parr's., "Well, sir, you certainly are not the gentleman you came in, and I am glad to see it. Here is your bill, and if you will run the risks of the road at this late bour, I can only wish you safe home, and a long continuance of your present good spirits." "Thank you Mrs. Furlong, thank you! And if I come this way again, T shall certainly, as the poet says, 'Stop at the widow's to drink.' So good night, Madam. Once more, wood night. * * * Blessings be on 3very foot of Mrs. Furlong---that best Df physicians; for SHE HAS CURED MIE DF MYSELF!" Tin UPPER TEN.-At Fanny Kem ble's last reading, in the Masonic Tem ple, Boston, the daughter of a wealthy man asked her husband who Shakes peare was. He replied without hesita tion, he was the man who wrote the New Testament. A Toledo poet concludns an address to "Goose Creek" with the following touch of the sublime: Floiw on old siream of rame~ and eld, Fond memory thee enwraps, "Such as creation's dawn beheld, T'hou rollest nowv"-perhaaps. A poet says: "O ! she was rair: But morrow came and left lisa TntAcas there.' What became of the balance of th< harness, ho don't say.-.Dayton Jour nail. An Irishman seeing an outside pas senger of an English state coach cover ed with dust, observed that if he was potatoc lie might grow without any fur thor planting. A writer in an Irish newspaper, al ter mentioning the wreck of a vesse near Skerries, rejoice that all the crew were saved, except four hogshcads c mblasses.. The Albany Kniokerbooker, rumnini ting upon the effects of spring wonder how the treesi get their clothes out ( their trunks without opening them, 'Hie forgets that the trees leave or theair anmmer dIress. ernal ;i tper read the follownstory Iand W oes'not eg-g check 6nd subdue it nth 4n A4ToRY FoR Hi IRABOIBLE. -lMjenth WOSa~sted hi ththou ht less" "Ai. it "" C y "'th'e Frenchcourh., M y t paaI s violent;pand 'I returnedhome one..morn ing, long after uidnigUt, ftrati8 with rage at some imagirfatyj insilt"nbielfI to speak to md a 7Tnlered the house; but I repulsed him violdntl.*;ayin'Ash ed up to my room. -Iooked- the dor, and sat-down instantly-te:Atito hal' lengd. My hand' trembledio- bch' that* itAvould not hold the pen; I stirted up and;paced the roorn; the pen Was again ii my hand; when I heard a low voice speaking .eart tty at the door entreapng to be. etted. The-voice was that of mY 'rsold and favorite servanit. I opened tho"door to him. The old man looked upon"'ino with 'a very sorrowful ebuntenakce, and Ihas tily demanded the reason of appearance. He staited at me with 'surprise, 'and spoke not; he walked to the table where I had set down, and took from it a, let-* ter, which in my rage Ihad ugt noticed. It announced tc me the dangei-ous ill ness of my father;.it wis written byr ny mother, and entreatinly besought me nstantly to return to -them-Eefdre dawn I was far frnt Paris. My fa ther's residence was. in -the north: of England. .I arrived there only in tie to follow the corpes ofmybelovefahe r to the grave. Immediately ounmy re turn from the funerel, my mother sent to me, requesting my attendane inierhr own apartment. Traes ta deep-sea ted giief were fresh upon hei fin-e coun- t tenance,' but she received me With balm seriousness. Love-for her living child had struggled with her sorrow .for. the dead; and she had chosen. that hour to rouse me from the sins of my past life. My mother was always.p superior crea ture. I felt. as I listened to her, the' real dignity 'of a Christians maton's character She won me by the truth the affection, the gentleness of her words. She spoke plainly of my de- t grading conduct, but she did not up- 1 braid me. She set before me the new duties which I was called upon to per form. She said, "I know you will not trifle with those duties. You are not I your own, my son; you must not live to yourself; you profess the, name of Chris tian. you can hold no higher profession. God hath said to each of us, 'My son, give me thine heart.' Have you giv en your heart and it' desires to God? Can you be that pitiful creature-a half Clrist-an? I have spoken thus, be. cause I know that if you have clear ideas of your first duties, and do strive to perform them, then will your ,ela-I tive duties be no longer shghtly regar. ded. Oh, my son, God knows what I feel in speaking to you thusin my heavi est hour of afflicion, and I can only speak as a feeble and perplexed wo mali. I know not how to counsel you, but I do beseech you to think for vour self', and to piay earnestly to Go'd for his wisdom and' guidance." Before I left my mother's presence, 8she spoke to1 me also on my master passion, anger mad, ungovernable rage. She told me that even in th'i early years of my childhood, she had trembled at my an ger-she confessed that she dreaded to hear while I was absent, that it had plunged me inito some horrid crime. She knew not how just her efears had been; for had not my father's death ro* ealled me to England, I should proba bly have been the murderer of that thioughtiess strij~ling who had unknow ingly provoked me, and whomi I wvas about to challeilge to fight on the morn ing I left Versailles. My mother did not speak to me in vain. I deter-mined to .turn at once from my waye, to regulate my: conduct - by the hig'i and holy principles of the - religion I professed, and to reside on my own estates in habits of manly and - domestic simplicity. About three years after I had suc ceeded to the titles and possessions 'of my forefathers, I becamie the~ husb'and of the lady Jaue N--e, and I thought myself truly happy. Two years passed faway, and every day endeared mny sweet wife to my heart,, buti was not, quite happy. We had no child; I had but one wish; one blessing seemed alone -denied-the birth of a son-an heir to a the naine, the rank, the estates 6f my f family. When [inelt before God, 'I forgot to pray that hie would teach ame e t what to pray for; I did not entreat that his wisdom would dirmab me .haw -to usq sing. Il pad for& so,-myg pry *ereeline4 a ison was born Uc V iiA il a t hi t lect~ was fair b yqrn4his' years; and I Love4 to malc hiniamy oompanion, :as much-from ti charinnjfresbness of his thughieasieotitbe warmth-of -my t iA t 4tlaradi'thdelhid - learn. oidefr at'th satitedon I had once fel irfimore worldlyt isad iS1 *t'i e? the cliifr "lis of: ysn Wa not wlitou tie friu ohildren posses,nwJ ch iie rooted dpep n himan natuie; but in all hisefaults in his deceit-and what child is not taught deceit by his own hearo? there was a charming awkwarkness, an'ab senco of all wordfly trick*hich appear edi tihen vergyneW to xte-I used all m effoith-ojprevent vice~frduf bee'6inin habitual to fieii; I anevoto teahihm the hverntfit 6f himself, reiig not onlyevery actien, butaryt "onht to one high and holy principle of-think. ing and acting to 'God; and I strove-to build up consistenthabits 'ot the found itloirof holfy principle. I-was -so ann. iou hbout myson that I did no t are !otheat'hsfafi iiha herlish indul gencT' haigh t hhi:m6"kh*tlit#I o i ttnatJtiid be - t; goerIithid fMiisWn, I thnkr til confidencd ofsie~Geh anad tin, g~d Meomed never sobapprasawheurhe sat it my feet'and asked me, in the eager tess of his shappifancies, i ore tiues. ions than my.6uldintrIith, answer I annob'go on.speaking thus'ofthoe Ius 'tin s wfiidh 'libg'one'. fore il turn to a darker subjedm iny 'acf. hile I ai up ., - mfl f thodgti, ny s;ul'sbest energies to my child ieglected m qcl ftheimproiient of ny own. -heart, . and its dispositins. rhis.may seem strange -and improbable o some. . It may 'be-imagined'that the iabits of strict virtue which I taught-to ny son, would,in the the teaching, have >een learnt by myself; and thatin'the earch after sound 'uisdorn foi- hin, I aust have turned up, 's it were, Mipiy roasures needed by myseif. it'would .es 8 in most instanCes perci aie0e; ii As kot so in mine. : Thieglory of God had iot been my first wish whenI- prayed or a son. I had imposed upon mygelf, a thinking that I acted in-the eduodtion if my child upon that sacred .principle. t as honor among men I looked for. [had sought to make my sen' every hing that- as excellent, but I' had not iought, to make myself fit for the iwork [undertook.. My own natural .fau lts iad been auffered by me to grow almost mnhecked, while Ihad been -watchful >ver theheart of-my-ohild. Above all, he natural infirmity ofmy chdactr inger, 'violenti outrageous -anger, ;w'as Lt times the master, the tyra'nt'of my, oul. , Too freqbently. had' correoted ny child f6r. the-faults whlch- he inheri ed from me; but 'how had I donesiso? ihen passionately angry myself, I had mnished my boy .for want of' temper. Jould it be expected that Maurice would >rofit by my instructions, when my ex mple too often belied my wordsP;'But [ will .passonat, once to my guilt. The 'Countess, nifnibthftr, han given :d Maurice a boa'utiful Ai-abiani horse. loved'to encom'age'theboy'in nll~man g exercises. While a" mere child lie -ode with 'a grace wvhich I' have seldomu ;een surpassed by-the best 'h6ieme'n. [{6w nobly would ho. beai- himself, as side by side on out- fleet hei-ses, we filev ver the open country! Often; biten in~ I behold irniemory, his eledr spak ling eyes glaneing with intelligemcd: his Efair brow contract'ed with thatslighE atid peculiar 'frown, jwhichi *gednsshinke that the meind shzares-iiisihMilWi'ofdie lips. Often dof ueehefoi-e ene th~ih glow floodling 'eer liik che'elke waves of brlghr hajir' fleit.iingsway fro& hisi ihouliders, as he galloped full i the fdiio of the fine freoowii, ' * io0o & his Ar ailirr ie iil' noble-spirited boyslo a favorite horse. He loved to dresand to feed amd to caress the beautiful creatjure; and Blimin lnew his. ?itadi - ohrda wouki arch bi lef d sii e when the bogy rew m i~, "ad forn Aiis dark lustrousg 1y6*~ ok lik9-tlya oplepise4 pogug mpnb yled master spoke, - , My obiN wpbn ) gai at the tir ;asno s unnalle t1an rlanQanr *fehWAinen Cal*h e V~ out 6. FreMA ~~n~belo~id '1dftifid etil b~V isa mdifd'l~Mo~~~i y.e fi~dov th ~at 00kb ii tiit b eaedog~1idf ~t~kee .,cthe bokefoifinp cou1~i~n'6t ,erap8 bo nr'elos 0 ok'd on4-hefi;t~ .whftorw;k W ith that . l~MMc b19'a sai,0n6f! ic Ind* tol 0bykng~ t - i abe0. Anii ibffd *pireye me'itye~a tli einu~ bt ruied~il i fro_ itrojiiu 0- n on Pd.h lbay l~l dfe my" "t'"~ 'teb6 d0-w m-h gryt6~~orc ~vVA ft~A ribh Isought hir i"r.Whie Rwn~~ athi asece har hs'ic1d ifirp '0er 1o s u nmet Ip0 too ," boy hodn ith qONNA' rekn 'WAibl ~tiiiu '~t We6t; 'd bisthe 6ur th T,~ahrsvhp f*t'.c thouse wiged ya*1b th his ar bldiffi d iteit'" ' e' d tood b6 111 04Ahb,'fibone quin, a r ty sf' lit bmre' ot 1Aa, ws Aithi$1 i u o, vapt' Ere ho-fefor:4wM ii ~r dropt w, -~ :~ uT if% less, and '-ti"RhiMb' 'Whaid1. the firt ho came&. Ia ,-thenab~cb Iwoehil. do~ d~ er.e~" Toi 960-no ens trs from Wihdor yn broke-i-fl didt'M stood k boy-hildih Kh th ~ ~ ~ ~~A e" 'enb6.W;_orej :A"6~i2 bi lffi': ihi-iti ikid~ regkin*' a'. tr his'othci 'I4O.4oe-'a a r