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Sv Uemwcratic 3ournal, totto t fif nj a Sovutljrn 1js, Catratsfleuv, Citerate, 1toriti, Enmperauce riculure, &
"We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of on Inberties, and If it Intust fall, we wil& 1r1i9 annidst the Ruins"
SIMKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDGEFIELD, S . JULY 28, 1858. .L.x..--o 9
Glorious Summer! bright and fair
Are thy golden treasures:
Gifts thou bringest, rich and rare,
. In o'erflowing measures.
Sparkling sunlight o'er the sea,
Harvest yaiving on the lea,
Mellow fruit on bush and tree
These are but thy treasures.
Now the wild bee's voice is heard,
From the forest ringing;
Now the happy evening bird
Merrily is singing;
Gardens with their'gorgeous flowers,
Blushing noons, and moonlit bowers,
Evening's soft and witching hours,
Fondly thou art bringing.
Sweet thou glidest as a stream
When It sparkles brightest,
Or a youthful poet's dream
When his heart is lightest.
All the hours for bliss were made;
But when twilight's gentle shade
Softly steals o'er hill and glade,
Then thy joys are brightest.
Youth and Love delight to go
Hand in hand with Summer,
Where the limpid waters fA-v
With the softest murmur.
None on earth so well agree,
When the heart is young and frce,
As those happy spirits three,
Youth, and Love, and Summer.
BETTER THAN THEX ALL.
A moderate share of wealth is good
To cheer us on our way,
For it has oftentimes the power
To make December May ;
So is beauty, so is health,
Or gen'us at our call;
But a happy, careles3, loving heart,
Is better than them all.
A heart that gathers hope and faith
From every springing flower,
That smiles alike at winter storm
And gentle summer shower;
That blesses God for every good,
Or whether great or small;
Oh! a haploy, hopeful, loving heart,
Is better than them all.
'Ti well to hold the wand of power,
Or wear -n honored name, -
And blush to hear the mighty world
Re-echo with our fame;
- -- rs-we ou. or-naLth ibe
Of Kings and Nobles fall;
But to have a happy. trusting heart,
Is better than them all.
A heart that with the magic notes
Of music is beguiled;
A heart that loves the pleasant face
01 every little child;
That aideth weakness in d'stress,
And hotreth duty's call;
01! such a loving, human heart,
Is better than them all.
Written for the Advertiser.
THE FATAL MISTAKE.
BY JENNY WOODBINE.
The maid that loves
Goes out to sea upon a shattered plank
And puts h er trust in miracles for garvty.
Irene Clyde was proud, poor, and sensitive.
She belonged to one of those numerous decayed
families who in spite of poverty, make desperate
efforts to preserve gentility. She had dim vis
ions of a golden time, when she played amid
the groves which surrounded a noble old man
sion, and had not a thought of the morrow. But
by a sudden reverse of fortune, she found her
self the child of a bankrupt. Her tastes, her
feelings all unfitted her for the position she
found herself forced to occupy ; and Irene from
a gay, light-heartedchild grew gloomy, and full
of bitter musings. As her years increased, so
did her poverty ; till at theage of sixteen she lost
her father. Mrs. Clyde was only nominally
the head of the family-all the duties and res
ponsibilities fell on the shoulders of Irene; and
to her was left the training of her younger sis
ters, and the cares of the household.
" What shldl we do ?" and Mrs. Clyde wrung
her hands in bitter anguish. "I see nothing
before us but starvatifn. Ellen has not a pre -
sentable dress-Jennie has no bonnet, and I-"
Here she glanced reproachfully at Irene, and
giving he: handkerchief a flourish, raised it to
"Itmight have been so different, Irene-you,
ungrateful child that you are ! might have mar
ried-.Liadsay, and then all would have been
" But mother-"
"Oh! don't annoy me-you must be ex
travagantly fond of poverty, when you re'ect
such a brilliant fortune."
Irene, accustomed as she had grown of late
* to these upbraidings, nevertheless felt the wound
deeply. But even these " thorns in the flesh"
had their good effect-they aroused the latent
energy which slunmlered in ths young girl's
b,.om-theyawakeI e Ilare. olution,andwith her
to reso'lVe iw t accomplish.
."Mother, I have a plan,."
"What's it-to turn actress ?" sneered Mrs.
"Not so bad as that-you know I have some
musical talent, and that talent has been cultiv4
ted. lieretofore, I have slumbered in inactivi
ty-but-litc'i mother, I have delrnuined to be
a music teacher."
"Music t'encher indeed ! what romantic fool
ery is this? My child a music-teacher ? nerer.'
" Ifetter a mugie-teacher than a beggar,"
"Possibly, but where is your pride gone ?
"I have laid it ayway mother, as a useless
garment-bes'des the vocation is honorable, and
one which I hope to make profitable."
" Go to sleep, simpleton, and never let me
hear such words again. Music teacher indeed!
what would your uncle say ?"
"Nothin, provided I do not ask him to open
For a long time Mrs. Clyde objected, but
finding at last that something must be done, and
that speedily, her consent was won ; and Irene
having obtained a situation, began to make
preparations for her departure.
Irene's last evening at home ! how sad it was;
and yet how desperately they all struggled to
be cheerful. Ellen and Jennie played several
little duets together, and Tom brought out all
his pretty picture books to ask "Renie" to ex
plain them. Mrs. Clyde could not keep back
her tears, for with all her faults she was a ten
der-hearted, loving mother.
" This is Renie's birthday" said little Jennie
at length-" mother, Renie is eighteen to day;
and she has no birthday presents-oh! dear,
what shall I give Renie ?"1
"This," said the elder sister laying her hand
affectionately, on one of the many light curls
which clustered around the fair, young forehead.
So the tress was severed; and then Tom, and
Ellen following the example of Jennie, clipped
each a portion of their dark hair, to add to
Renie's birthday presents.
"Sing us something new, darling-some song
that will make us think of you all the time."
And Irene, thusentreated, passed her delicate
fingei s over the Piano keys, and sang in a voice
which grijef made tremulous,
" Farewell, but whenever you welcome the hour
That awakens the night song of mirth in your
intil she came to the closing lines, making the
weet song doubly sweet, and embalming it
rever afterwards in the remembrance of those
oving ones as something sacred.
The morrow came-the last good-bye was
poken-the last kiss was given, and Irene was
rirled away to other scenes-to a new life!
The gay metropolis was henceforth to be her
tomie-the tediuus life of a poor music-teacher
ier destiny. Home was left bhind-the house
f the stranger was now her dwelling-place.
Lnd yet thcse strangers met her kindly. Mrs.
ce welcomed her cordially; and Mr. Pace,
he succe~sful lawyer, smiled benignly through
is spectacles-while the young Paces, her
ture scholars, were clamorous for kisses.
Weeks pwsed away ;.and Irene Clyde was
'iidrt-ppytO-madrcmnrTen. wrena --
ut little cinmpany, but she had ample time to
nprove her mind; and when not engaged in
hool duties, she pored over many an ancient
olune; and peopled her imagination, with the
eroes and heroines of the past.
I feel justified in saying that the brightest
ay of her existence, was when she sent home
a her mother the first well-earned fruit of her
bors-the magic, and to her, the immense sum
f fifty dollars. True, the belle would sneer
t such a paltry sum; and expend it at once on
inantilla, or shawl; but to Irene it scened a
ttle fortune ; and then she had earned it herlf;
nd it would buy-oh crer so many delicacies
r her invalid mother-so many dresses for
ilen and Jennie ; and so many nice new books
ar the studious Totm. Thten shte received such
nice lonig letter, from those absent ones, prais
ng their " dear Renie," and calling her their
good angel." Yes: it made her happy.
One afternoon Irene entered the library to se
et some book ; and Mr. Pace (who had become
ir fast friend) looking up good-humoredly said,
" Will you come in the parlor this evening,
~iss Clyde, I wish to introduce you to a friend
>f mine-a rising young lawyer, who in spite
.f his bashfulness, you will find entertaining."
And Irene laughingly consented, when she
earned that the " young lawyer" was Clement
stanley of whos~e talents, and noble exertions
he had heard so uch. Nor did she regret
that consent, when she found herself in conver
rtion with one who " stooped not to flatter,"
but who evinced by his attention to her timid
remarks, his appreciation of her.
The evening passed delightfully, and Clement
Stanley when he promised "to call often,"
neant wrhat he said.
Again, and again they met, and Love having
passed through the chrysalis state of friendship,
made its appearance ia due time. And yet no
word of love had ever passed between them
" The heart feels most, when the lips move not;"
and both were enjoying the first delicious hours
>f " Love's young dream." Irette forgot that
she was "a poor music teacher"-Clement for
got the toils of his profession ; and they lived
but in the presence of each other. But no
Eden has ever been found without its attendant
erpent; atnd Irene's serpent came to light in
the presence of one, who htad been the friend
of her childhood. Julia Ilaygood was a but
terfly of fashiot-the child of wealthy parents,
whose sole aim was to see her dressed well,
uid eventually rnarried wcell. The culture of
her heart was left to chance, and she grew up
to womanhood, beautiful in person, but self
willed and unprincipled. She first meet Cletment
Stanley at an evening party of which she wai
the reigning queen ; and a rival belle taunting
ly said to her, " There stands one who will
lefy all your charms-he is made of rock."
"hIow do you know ?" was thte laughting re
joinder. " Because this is mny second witnter,
and he has never been at my feet."
"It do~es not follow that lie will never be at
" We shall see," and the lady pressed on.
Julia surveyed herself in the mirror ; and a
triumphanit smile flitted over her beautiful face
as she murmured, " I will die, or win him."
" Overheard, by Jove," said her cousin Miles
IIygood at her shoulder, " what victim have
you chosen now, fearless Julia ?"
" Yonder iceberg standing near thte door."
"Who? Clement Stanlev7 you will never
succeed. He visas only one woman in town;
and that a little music teacher, whom the Paces
have endeavored to exalt to a goddess. By the
way you know her-don't you remember Irene
"I daresay I do-we were playmates once,
but I have no fears of her. Why Miles,
she is poor, and plain besides.
"Poor, but not exactly plain. Her complex
ion is the finest in the world-half-way between
a brunette and a blonde, and her eyes-well
Julia you never saw such eyes, they express
evefy emotion of the soul, and dazzle, and be
wilder, and entrance-psha! *I was half in love
with her myself until Clement entered the
" You in love with a music teacher !
For shame Miles, I blush for you."
"I don't blush for myself-she is the most
charming little creature--"
" Well I grant all that-but now accommo
date me by dragging your lazy limbs to where
Mr. Stanley is standing; and then present him
to me-do you hear ?"
Julia had charms, and she knew how to make
the most of them; and she surpassed even her
self by her extraordinary exertions to entrap
Stanley. She praised him in the most delicate
manner, flattered his vanity by her timidly
avowed preference for his society; and planued
her maneuvres so adroitly, as to have him at
her side all th6 evening.
When Stanley retired to his room, he caught.
himself saying, "I shall call on this Miss Iay
good-it is but proper as she is a stranger here;
and I have absented myself too much from the
society of ladies."
Not that he had "fallen in love with her at
first sight"-he was no romantic youngster to
be borne about by every brceze ; and his hart
had long ago enshrined the sweet image of
Julia Haygood renewed her former intimacy
with her old friend, and she was not long in
discovering-for women are skilled in such mat
ters-that Irene loved Clement Stanley. She
found also that Irenei ha1 as much pride as love
in her composition; and the knowledge was
received with triniph.
One evening they were alone in the parlor
Julia having "'come to spend the day with her
darfriend Irene." About every five minutes
she said, "I will read you Clement Stanley's
favorite Poem," or, "I will sing you Clement i
Stanley's favorite song;" or "I wilt tell you
what Clement Stanley said to me one day."
"Do you see him so often then ?" and Irene
ihe made the apparently careless qtestion. i
" Oh ! dear, yes-why he is my shadow. See
here." And she unclasped a -locket from herI
neck, and touching a spring, revealed the fe
tures of Clement Stanley.
Irene turned as pale as death, but she made
ome light comment; and turning over the
leaves of her portfolio requested Julia, "to
sing first one more son.?, and then they would
dress for tea." Julia Ilaygood-knew that the
shot hed tl1: for how could Irene know that
he ladl borrowed the locket from Miss /u
ey'; and that Clement had not the most remote
idea, whose neck it adorned.
" Clement will be here this evening," remark
ed Julia as she fastened a bracelet on her left
" Ilow (10 you know ?" asked Irene quickly.I
" How do I kiiow ; as if I did not know all
his engagements!" She laughed a low, short
augh. Ihow could Irene know that she had
ritten a note to Miles Ilaygood, with the
cjiimand, " Be sure to bring Clement Stanley
o Mr. Pace's after tea. I shall be there."
Clement Stanley was more annoyed than
pleased when he entered the parlor, and dis
overed Miss Hlaygood at the Piano singing
somne sentimental song ; for he had hoped to
penda quiet evening with Irene, undisturbed by
Miles, who was a "good fellow," and never in
terfered with his friends. And to tell the truth
he was growing somewhat tired of Miss Hay
ood; and felt a twving~e of self-reproach as he
reflected on his past attentions to her.
Irene. was calmly cold-she greeted him as
though he had been .some conmnon-place ac
quintance; and turned with more readiness
than ever before to Miles Ilaygood. As a natu
ral consequence he devoted himself to Julia,
who said insinuatingly as she pointed to the
*pair at the window, " They will make an ex
cellent match. I shall be glad to call her cou
sin Irene ; she is poor, but then she is accom
plssed ; aud it will not be such a mnes-allianice
Thus by touching the springs of pride, this
temptress wrought the severance; and Irene
parted with Stanley that night, feeling that lier
happiness was wrecked ; and that henceforth
for her, life was a blank.
The gloom:iest soul i.s not all gloo,
Thes saddest heart is not all sadniess ;
Aud sweetly o'er the darkest aloom,
There shines so'me lingering beams of gladness.
" Miss Renie, you look so pale to-day," said
little Annie Pace, while she was taking her
music lesson,-" are you sick ?"
" No, dear, only a slight headache."
" Miss Renie, you ought to have beeni down
stairs this morning-oh !lit waes so pretty, to see
them all stariing of for the pic-hic. Mamma is
gone with them, but I wvould'nt go because you
were not alon'g. Some of them were in carri
nges, and some on horseback. Miss Lane and
IMr. Haygood were on horseback, and so were
'Mis Hlaygoodl and Mr. Stanley. Mama says Miss
Julia and Mr. Stanley are going to marry-"
" Thuere that will do dear-now mind your
notes-here let mec help you count-one, two,
three. There-now you can go on."
She knew that they sroidd marry, but she
could niot bear to hear it spoken of; each word
'was like a thorn driven into a heart already
ounded and bleeding.
Her work hadbecOU-ds1'tasteful to her; she
had grown weak and . 'us, and the softest
note sounded harsh to- er ears.* She longed
for rest,-for quiet; , if that could not be
won, for change of R'., But ,poverty is a
stern task-master. Sh must work! For upon
her slender salary the Port of a whole family
Leaving Irene for a n ent, we will insert a
conversation between ment Stanley and his
father, which has so4 bearing on our simple
"They tell me Clemditthat you are to mar
ry the heiress-l am g1kf it. I am somewhat
involved, and a little r.dymoney in the family
would be a great bene us all. Once I was
afraid you had some sers'piintentions towards
that little imusic-teacheitPace's. That would
never have done at aLs--the girl is poor, and
you have nothing but 3 profession; and be
sides it would have n mortifying to my
pride for you to have ied a music-teacher."
"To yourpride fathe I. know of no woman,
whom one might be uder to call wife, or
daughter, than Irene C s-but set your heart
at rest: she loves ano r
And with this mo ful, conviction,- which
had been beaten into lg brain by Miss Hay
good, he promised his father to propose to that
lady, saying in what h mcant to be a cheerful
" Who falls from be knows of bliss,
Cares little into w abyss."
Since I have lost Irene It matters not on whom
I bestow my hand, and as I ani destined to
make some woman mlr1le, it might as well
be Miss Haygood as at one else."
So he proposed, and as, of course accepted,
and he flattered himsel that he really loved
Julia, or would love hei, as much as was neces
mry to her happiness.%
Irene heard tihe nelcalily-in fact it ivas
the chief topic of convesation; for some doubt
Ad-others believed, aiid all wondered.
She could not stay it town, and witness it.
[t would have been tifieg her powers of endu
ance too far; and alibtugh some love "to see
'low much the heart Ongs can bear without
3reaking," Irene feard- the test. Tremblingly
lie opened the door oi* evening, and stood be
ore Mr. Pace. He.- Wa busily engaged in wri
ing, but looked up kindly on her entrance.!
What now, little ono;you want new books ?"
"No, sir, not books.this tinie. I have never
,een home, you kio5 since you engaged me,
nd-and-if, you I no objections, I should,
ike to go."
iage ?" up curt.S) UA-4H
narked the sudden pallor of her face, a dii
iercep ion of the truth stole across his muddy
-ision. He took her hand tenderly a< a fatler
night, " You are a noblogirl, Irene, and I honor
-ou,-Yes: go my chill,-stay as long as you
ilease, and return whenver you like. Bfit first,"
-here he funbled in his pockets-" let me,
>ay you, your salary." And he placed a sum
if money in her hands which to Irene's sur
,rise was much larger..han slie had expected,
,Ir hoped. . *
She was about to mnale some coilmenit j but y
be kind-hearted old imi, bent over his papers, a
Lud muttereil, " Then don't bother ime, child, k
-these plagued documents will be the death v
>f me yet." hi
Irene stole softly aiuy, blessing that lProvi- o
hence who had raised p friends for the father- Ii
Mrs. Pace assisted Iir to pack her trunks,
w-hich was more thansahe had ever (done for il
erself, for all such vrk was left to the ser- E
vants. But she realljiked Irene, and wished ial
to show it in some .ianner;-so shze lent a id
helping hand'' and ud at eveiry breath, '- You aj
must coine back soounlear, for I shall be wor w
ried to death with tlchildren." u]
At home once mod It was so sweet to be se
there after such a Ion absence, that Irene al- -
most forgot her sorra. She found that even *
ror her there was " fingering beam of glad- faa
ness,"-that life wasnt all dar-k; for Heaven de
had kindly given bez'ermission to cheer thme to
heclining days of herother ; and minister to br
the comfort of her 'ther and sisters. At th
any rate, she knew itould be but aspecies of gO
refined selfishness to her own grief appeur,
when the happiness so many depended on
her wearing a cheerf ace.
After the first kiss, and embracings were
over, Ellen flew toe piano; and she and on
Jennie, screamed abe top of their lungs, re<
" Home Again ;" vmsen Tom joined in the the
"It is an old solbut a sweet one," said del
Mrs. Clyde passing :armu around -lrene. hii
And Irene echoe Tes," with moistening aum
"Oh ! Renie, weso much to tell you," ica
shouted Jennie whee song was ended. El- pal
hen has learned to d, and paint beautifudly,-- ov
almost as pretty as i; and Tom has studied grc
so hard-why you c imagine what astudent nor
he is." . ---t
" And Jennie is best girl in the world," dre
said Ellen patrony, " for she does not "
rraise her own 'effo'si
" Jennie has tookriting poetry" said Tom. live
" And Tom huirldi defiance at grammar," to t
chimed in Ellen.
" And Mr. Lindomes here every day," T
shouted Jennie ag" and I do believe he's Cly
making love to Eli thme
" Nonsense, Jensmaid Ellen blushingly. 'i
For an entire wlrene did nothing but coir
rest, and stroll ithe woods. Each old mU:
familiar haunt wasned. Each dear old tree Iamid
honored with a pai salutation. And Irene fain
tried to cheat heinto the .belief that she frie:
was growing happJn-wlien-a letter came jthe
from Julia, signe* Sanley! It was over 'fort
then-" the wild dream so fondly cher- by1
ished"..-henceforti for an aching pang at S
the heart, which inight vainly strive to Elk
heal, they would 'though they had never mc
met. A more quiet, and yet a more industrioui
life than that which Irene led now, can scarcel3
be imagined. She '-kept house"-taught thi
children-improved herself by daily reading
and " made up" a host of new clothes for Eller
and Jennie. Ellen was the aristocat of the
family-she was passionately fond of drawing
painting and music, but bring her down from
her " cloud castles," by requesting her to duel
the furniture, sweep the floor, make the beds,
or indulge in any other plebian occupation ; and
a look of disgust would creep over the fair fea
turos, while a sullen pout settled firmly about
the lips. It was constitutional with her-it
her seemedalmost impossible to overcome it; and
mother and sister, after a few ineffectual at
tempts to awaken a love for these distasteful oc
cupations, concluded that Ellen was not "made
to work," and allowed her to become " the fine
lady of the family." Yet this graceful beauty was
their pride-their pet, for she was naturally
amiable; and would do a hundred, little things
to contribute to the general enjoyment-such as
filling the vases with fresh flowers-looping
back the white curtains with ribbons-covering
the glass and picture-frames with fine tissue
paper, fancifully cut, to conceal the ravages of
old age, making ottaman's of old boxes, and
Of an afternoon, while Irene was sewing,
Jennie studying, Tom weeding the garden, and
Mrs. Clyde seeing about supper, Elen would
come floating into the parlor, dressed in some
light muslin made "infant waist" fashion-the
short waist, and long skirt making her appear
unusually tall, and even dignified-and seat her
self at the. piano, forgetting in the sweet dreams,
which music brought-her poverty. Poems,
music, and painting formed her life; and when
called from these, she was unhappy. '
Young, and beautiful, she sighed for conquests,
and therefore learned to hate a country life.
Highly delighted then was this spoiled child,
when her uncle, who livid in Charleston, came
to them on-a "flying visit," and declared his
intention of taking one of the girls home with
him. le would have chosen Irene, but she
very quietly declined the proffered honor; and
little Jennie shrank away frightened from his
emubrace-so Mr. Clyde had no alternative but
to take Ellen who was willing, even anxiousi
Irene had some misgivings-she feared the
effect of a gay city life on this idle, impilsive
Ireamer; but Mrs. Clyde who had once been a
belle,"-had no higher ambition than to have
ber child sip of the adulation which had once
Ellen was gone! and Irene had a quiet cry
Aiter she had taken an affectionate farewell of
ier benuitiful sister; but grief was a luxury in
vhich she hal no time to indulge-therefore
lie wiped her eyes silently, and went to the
,itchen-room to assist the "the maid of all
rork," who grumbled not.a little at having so
auch to do. -
Mrs. Clyde followed after. "Irene, here is a
tter from Mr. Pace, requesting your immedi
te return ; but now that Ellen has left me.
ou cannot go. I should "mope to death"
way-out here in the .woods, with no one to
eep me company but Jennie and Tom. I guess
-e can make out to live on what money we
Rye, until Ellen makes a good match, and thenI
sr fortunes will brighten. Ellen is not self ishli
ke you; she will marry some wealthy gentle
lan, and lift us all from our present drudgery."1
Irene choked down a rising sigh-after all I
at she had done, she was called selsh ; whilet
llen, who had literally done nothing, was ex
ted above her. Yet such is life. Some are
>omend to go through thme world without being
jpreciated. All honor to them, if they can,
ithout that encouragement, which is the stim
us to exertion, perform thc duties which are
t before them. Some arc born to a life of ease
to them the sun is always bright-the flower
thout a thorn. While others, from their in
acy, are doomed to a lot of hardship--con.. ti
mned to be disappointed in evdrything; and a
work their upward way through thorns, and a
iars. More glorious their crown, if amid all, a
ey can say, " Even so Father, for so it seemed fi
ad in thy sight."
CHAPTER III. tI
" To bear is to conquer our pride."
[rene struggled bravely-nobly. She was p
of those silent martyrs who make no noise, ei
ele no praise on earth; but who have none ai
less their reward in heaven. Did she sit
vn repiningly and murmur because fate had to
mied her happiness ? No: she struggled to hi
4, her own grief-to make othmems cheerful, T
I happy ; and in so doing to find contentment. fa
night have been more interesting to the puoet
youth, or the romantic young lady, had I p
nted her as pining away daily, and "all for de
e." But it was Dot Fo.-her cheek did not le
ir paler-her step did not lose its elasticity; pr
her eye its brightness. Hecr heart was older si
he freshness of its youth was gone-its day- a
uns had faded-its bright hopes perished. hd
We cannot make a support in the country,E s
Mrs. Clyde one day; "we cannot even
here, it is so horribly dull-we must move rim
nad Irene consented. o'n
a a week the cottage was closed; and the of
des wen inmates of a dingy little house in ha
heir expenses increased; and Irene was m<
polled to resort to her old occupation of of
ic-teaching. She secured a few daily pupils, ,Jo
upon the amounut paid her fur services, the
ily managed to subsist. Irene found a firm
d in one of her patrons, Mrs. Johnson; and
friendless, penniless girl, e' uved much com- ~
from the kindly attentions bestowed on her for
~hat lady. . a
he received i'any letters from her gay sister wh
n, in Charleston, she was enjoying herself, as ne
et yongeons do, when first nseaed into to.
society. Hier communications were all descrip
tive of the exciting life she led; and if Irene
experienced a pang, as she felt the sharpness of
the contrast between their two lives, she checked
it as unworthy of a place in her heart.
" Do take tea with me this evening," said
Mrs. Johnson to Irene one afternoon. "I am
anxious to introduce you to a particular friend
of mine, Mr. Princeton."
But Irene politely declined. Since her dis
appointment, which had taught her the vanity
of bestowing one's affections unsought or even
sought, she had absented herself from the so
ciety of gentlemen; and consequently she de
clined the proffered introduction. One afternoon
however, she was over-persuaded by Mrs. John
son, and consented to remain. She was dressed
most becomingly in a simple pink muslin, with
flowers in her hair; and looked as she always
did, sweet and unpretending.
Just as she had received her cup from Mrs.
Johnson's hands, a young gentleman entered,
and walked to the upper end of the table. Irene
started, his was a Buperior face-of a cast seldom'
seen, and displaying intellect of no common
order. The forehead was fair-the hair a dark,
rich auburn-the eyes black, clear, and earnest
the mouth winningly handsome.
"Who,-who is that ?" asked Irene quickly.
Mrs. Johnson smiled quietly, and replied
archly, "Why, Mr. Princeton, Jamie Princeton,
of course." Irene colored as she remembered
her former remarks, but they said no more just
then. After tea Mr. Princeton came to the
parlor, and Irene was formally introduced.
What a charming conversationalist he was
every word had its own peculiar meaning; and
Irene was delighted in spite of herself.
" Superior even to Clement Stanley," whis
pered her heart; and the "still, small voice"
replied, "What! false already 7"
Mrs. Johnson would have her sing for him
she desired to "show off" her protege as much
as possible. Her young, clear voice, sounded
particularly, ye wondrously sweet, as she satg
to the piano in a simple, unaffected manner,
" Call ine pet .nane-, darling." And as the
notes died away in gentle accents, Jamie Prince
ton canghtlins.elfsaying with pardenable vanity,
"I would if I dared."
It was a lovely night; for the moonlight lends
a cbamn to all. Jamie Princeton walked home
with Irene for the first time; afterwards he
walked with her often.
I am one of those unromantic persons, who
believe firmly in second love. I expect to be
haunted by the ghosts of murdered, suicidal
heroines. for acknowledgin'g such an unpoetical
blief; -idfmust'brave -their wratl
purer, holier than the first!
When they left Mrs. Johnson's, on the eve
ing we have mentioned, that lady looked- after
them with a smile, and said to herself, there
being no one else near, ,
"It has happened just as I wished-if there t
ever was an unmistakeable case of love at first
sight, I have seen it this evening."
And Mrs. Johnson was right. q
They stood beneath the stars, Jamie Prince. c
ton, and Irene Clyde! The moon cast upon
heir brows its calm, holy light, and the whole b
.arth was bathed in beauty.
Jamie's handsome face was flushed with
omething-what was it reader? I leave it to t]
hose of you, who are so hnfortunate, or fortu- al
iate as to be " in love" to answer. v
Irene was very calm, and pale, yet her heart
ras heating wildly-her lipquivered convulsive- tl
y ; and the hand, which Jamie held in his own, w
rembled perceptibly. In reply to something
*e asked, Irene repeated,t
" No: thou art not my first love- ti
I had loved before we met, Ic
AndI the memory of that summer dream
Is pleasant to me yet.F
But thou-thou art my last love,F
mly dearest, and my best ;
My heart hilt shed Its outer leaves, W
To give thee all the rest. n
* * * * * * *
Ellen Clyde returned home-disappointed withh
te world-dissatisfied with herself-despising i
LI things, loving none. 'There were hard lines ce
bout the fair young mouth unlovely to see ; and in
wordly look about the pretty, girlish face, pain- e9
I to witness.
She hated poverty, and she learned to despise p
ar own home. Irene tried hard to conquer in
Lese feelings, to win her hack to gentleiness, but th
rain-the malady was too deeply seated-the so
mung gir~u once innocent heart had grown hard,
oud, vain, and wordly. Irene had feared the
feets of a gay, city life on the young aristocrat,
ad her worst fears were realised, on
Mr. Lindsay-tealthy Mr. Lindsay, came to a
wn-he had heard of the arrival of the young
lle, and beauty, and he wished to punish Irene. pa
ie mian had always been the ev.il gemusAf the th~
miily; and Irene both feared, and scorned him. thi
lie offered Ellen his hand, and fortune. Thet
oud, worldly girl was pleased-it was what she ser
sired. Irene remonstrated with her ; lbut El. av<
replied coldly, " Anything is better than my PO
esent homne-mypresentporer/y ! WVhy Irene,ge
npleton, the mnan is rich ! He will give me
carriage and horses, and a house in town. I
ye no fancy for your 'love-in-a-cottage,' non-.
ise-that may do for such as you." waS
So she gave him in return for the diamond **
ig he offerred, a perjured vow! 11
The sisters were married on the same day- ah
e made a marriage of lore; the other a union tre
conrenicnce. Irene was wedded to youth and to
ppiness ; Ellen to old age and misery.
Mfrs. Clyde was delighted- she and Tonm re- sta
ved immediately to the handsome residence on
the youngeredaughter-the laughter-loving an
anie remained with Irene. ver
Jamie Princeton and Irene were happy I y
A.UUTAc , Ga. the
[t is asserted that a man marrying now.a-days s
rries a great deal more than he bargained
He not only weds himself to a woman, but say
laboratory of prepared chalk, a quintal of 'at
alebone, eight coffee bags, tour baskets of to
rels, one poodle dlog, and a system of weak tha
ethat will keep four servants and three doc- me
a maonn your house moat naala.tima. a
Te GEN. QUIMhN.
The Charleston Mercury, in noticing the
death of Gen. Quitman, has the following re
Gov. Quitman was born in the State of New
York, of Italian extractibn, his father being a
preacher in that State. The son boro all the
lineaments of his origin, resembling, both in
features and dignity of bearing, the Roman of
old, whether as soldier or senator. Nor was
his character unlike his appearance. He emi
grated young to Mississippi and entered the
profession of the law, which he continued to
practice until a late- period. In political views
he was from early manhood a firm and consis
tent States Rights Democrat. He was in 1850
a member of the Nashville Convention and a
Secessionist, advocating the separate action of
Mississippi. His course in Congress has iden
tified him with the truest and staunchest de
fenders of the rights and interests of the South
at Washington. As a brave and able soldier,
his conduct in council and in the field in Mexi
co give ample proof, manifested by the respect
of that whole army. -
We need not say the people of South Caro
lina will hear with feelings of the most painful
regret, the announcement of General Quit
man's death. They loved and honored him as
the commander of that Brigado of the Army
of Mexico to which the Palmetto Regiment
was attache-d-one who, appreciating its gallan
try and steadiness throughout the campaign,
has so often, so cordially, and so recently, testi
fled to the glory of that little band of Caroli
nians. He was-thus, to a certain extent, iden
tified with us. But in addition to this strong
claim on the affections of South Carlina, Gen
eral Quitman, as a Southern statesman and pa
triot, commanded the esteem and confidence of
our people. It was not in feats of overpower
ing elocution, or in exhibition of brilliant pow
ers of debate, his reputation rested. He was
regarded to be one of the few thoroughly relia
ble Southern Democrats of the States Rights
school-a man true to his section, far-sighted'
and incorruptible. His Judgment, his honesty,
and the sterling manhood which gave weight
and influence to his opinions and positions, es
tablished him in the respect and trust of the
people. The South is menaced by dangers from
her enemies without and her self-seeking aspi.
rants within, and needs the help of spirits such
Uoved, thop, by feelings of spooial regard
mad interest, and ,by considerations of the
Southern cause and its necessities, we deplore
the event as a general calamity, and claim to
share the grief with Mississippi.
CHARLESTON AND BOSTON.
A project for a line of propeller steamshipi 0
between Charleston and Boston, is being sen
yusly considered among some of our best busi
2ess men, and isubscriptions to - considerable
imount have already been pledged.
As we understand the scheme, its main fea
ures are as follows: To build a first-lams pro
peller steamship, of about -1,600 or 2,000. tons
burthen to be in general dimensions about 250
reet in length, 40 feet in breadth, and 20 to 25
ret in depth. These ire the xtirtine dimen 1-:
urrproposedj and' we doubt not that, ere the
>roject is consummated, it will be found advisa
>le to reduce them materially. A ship qf 1,200
>r 1,500 tons would undoubtedly suffice for all
he freight that would ofrer. The cost and
quipment of such a ship, ready for service, is
ixed at $100,OOU. It is considered good policy
o build a ship of the first class, indeed inferior
o no American propeller, in order that, should
t be found impossible to sustain a remunera
ive line between these ports, she might be
ualified for any service, or be desirable for pur
hase. That there may be no monopolizing or
ndue control of the line, it is proposed that it
e owned equally in the two cities--.50,000 in
The material question in the scheme is, will
pay ? Is there sufficient commerce between
:e two ports to employ the ship? There are
ready two well established lines of sailing
essels between Charleston and Boston, and at
ritain seasons of the year other'vessels find
eight without trouble. It will necessitate, in
ec dull season, a contest betwepn steam and
ind; but steam has an advantage, in that the
ussages of sailing vessels are long and' tedious.
he principal articles of export from Charleston
SBoston are cotton, rice, rosin and turpentine,
cnber and dimension lumber, flour and corn,
ather and skins, feathers and whiskey. Other
inr articles appear occasionally in the ,list.
rom Boston we receive boots and shoes, do
estic cottons, manufactured h'ard and iron
are, bagging, andl the thousand and one Yankee
tions and articles of barter.
The laboring oar of the enterprise is in the
nds of a gentleman of ability and activity, a
ember of one ot our commercial houses, who
sanguine of both immediate and ultimate suc
ss. He has been in correspondence with lead
: Boston merchants, who have mianifested an
ual interest in the enterprise. The Post Of-.
e Department have been sounded, and have
umised (not unqualifiedly, however,) to des
tch the mail by this route, should it succeed
shortening the present mnail time between*
e two cities. The gentleman alluded to will'
)n visit Boston, in furtherance of the scheme,
uich we commend to the attention of shippers
each city.-Carleston Mercury.
FEEINrG Waivaas.-This is a bad practice, and
a that every hotel proprietor should discour
i. It gives rich men, who can afford to squan.
Smoney, an undue advantage. It is presumed
bt in all first class hotels, the waiters are fairly
id by the proprietors for their services, and
y ought to do all in their power to promote
comfoirt of the guests, without a douceur. It
Ssort of bribery that debases the party accep
g it; and is a tax upon the guest which thie
rant has no right to impose. The public will
sid those watermg-place hotels where this im
lition is winked at by the proprietor. We
Ll nave more to say on this subject, as' it is
ting to be a cause of very general complaint.
i. bS. Hotl Directory.
GOOD NaxE.-The signature of Shak-espeare
a sold in London on the 14th., for 200 guin-.
about $1500. This is more than the poet
tId have raised upon his name during his lf.
e signature was affixed to a mortgage deed 'ofA
ouse in Black friars. The bidding for thie
asure conimenced at 50 guineas and went up
PiuciKy GorExoa.-A letter from Florida
es that Gov. Perry recently hailed the stage
the line between Micanopi and the terminus.
. the Florida Railroad, an'd requested tire dri
to diverge a few hundred yards from his
r-se, to take aboard some lady passengers.
n obstinately refused ; hot words ensued, and
Governor pitched in and gave the fellow a
OUtTnERN MIERCIIAN~.-A letter from Boston
;:-Very little is done on the credit system
resent, but the Southern merchants appear
et far more indulgence and. accommod'at
any other elass. I understand that they
~t their payments inore punctually than the
ce class from odher~quartehs.