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Vol. XIII. -
Hal eigli, 1ST. C, May;5, 1862. ISo. 37.. S'Sl(,U'li'V'VWV,W'(u,t)UVVS'WWSiVu'W From the Darlington Southerner. THE MERCHANT'S CLERK. The d:iv wj? ilark and raioy, when I took my umbielU and wended my way to thcraiH'J-l'l' hon in WPmotUrcct, where in ft Mvut. nij) t; n room, resi- ued two MMr it days I vHil tnvt: u throv a little sun shine. My t xjcrifti'e atnong the poor, indeed among m l: fur whom I have done a kind act, r i wliom I have spoken words of cncouragciiMMifc and cheer, differs from that of many tlior&. Gratitude has been my pleasant re ward, if not always acted, at nil erents spoken ; and I have seldom been made to feel that kindness can be thrown away. Kind acts, kind words, fall like pre cious balm upon hearts that need them, and even though the giver of them may never know it, they are treasured up and counted as precious jewels by the recipi ents. My . experience teaches me that there is a chord in the heart of every one rich -and poor, high and low, that re sponds to the touch of kindness, and in gratitude is not the widely practiced sin which some represent it. There may be an ungrateful world but there is a grateful one too, and to the latter belonged the two poor women whom I was visiting. As I wended my way up the dark, nar row stairway and knocked at the door ; it was opened by one of my poor friends. Her countenance brightened when she saw rae. Ilow delighted, she said, sister wil bo to see you;. she has been just wishing for you to cheer her up with words of strong consolation I entered the homely room the sister, a hopeless invalid, was lying on the lied, elapsing her Bible with her hin fingers. She laid it aside and grasped my hand eagerly, and, in broken tones, ex pressed her iov at seeincr me. I sat down besido her and listened patiently and sym pathizingly to a recital of her bodily ail ments. And truly, one could but be gen tle and kind, and pitying to this patient and devour, uiltjrer, steeped to.tbjs Jips in poverty and sntfr ring, yet saying,- tt is tlae Lord ; let him Jo what seeraeth him good.' We spoke of the sorrows and trials of this life ; how they can endure but for a sea son ; then we turned our thoughts to Hea ven and dwelt upon these pleasures which are at the right hand of God.' She fancied that my words gave her strength to bear her woes, but indeed, it was she who im parted strength to me, and in this humble home of these children of poverty I have learned those lessons f faith, hope and endurance, which all the glittering man sions of affluence have yet failed to teach me. Whilst thus conversing, a low, hollow cough, proceeding from the room below, frequently broke upon my ear. That is Mr. Rushton coughing,' said the sick woman,- noticing ray enquiring look. ' He is so low that the physician says he will never leave his bed again.' Mr. Rushton !' I started. My father once had a clerk' I said, 'named Charles Rjishton, an elegant and accomplished young man ; but that was many years ago ; I have lost sight of him now.' This gentleman is named Charles Rush ton,' was the reply. But sure it cannot be the same,' was ray answer. 'The Charles Rushton of whom I speak, from bis talents and address ought to be in a very different position from that which the lodger of the room, below must occupy. What sort of a looking person is this Charles Rushton ?' ' Very tall was the reply. ' His hair, Mack and glossy, is streaked with gray ; he has been handsome ; but intemperance and ill health have deprived him of his good looks.' - -. My father's clerk, Charles Rushton, an swered to the description. Tall, with an i elegant carriage and win nmg address, I have rarely sten so handsome and fascina ting a young man. But surely the raiser able wretch, who seemed coughing away hi life in poverty and loneliness, could not be the Charles Rushton who was once so sought after and admired for hi talents and accomplishments. 'Who does the gen tleman below live with !' - I asked. His old mother, was the reply. 'She' is aged and infirm, but devotes herself to the care of her son.' With a saddened heart I wended my way home. I pondered long on the his tory I had just heard, and resolved to as sure myself whether this was ray father's old and confidential clerk, the once elegant Charles Rushton. Accordingly the next day, taking such delicacies with me as I knew would be acccptnble to an invalid, I again wended my way to the old house. But this time T" did not go up stairs, I stopped at the ill man's room, and knocked at the door. At once I recognized in the tall, stately old woman who answered mv knock, a likeness to the Charles Rushton I so well remembered. I informed her that hearing from my friends in the room above of the illness of her son, J had come to offer hira some, delicacies, and whatever other services I could render lim. He heard from within rn v vniei 1 Who is there ?' he said. ' t I ventured to look into the room, ho ping from hira an invitation to enter, and 1 was not disaoDointed. 4 Will you come in V he said. His mother opened the door, and I en tered. One glance sufficed to assure me that the poor emaciated creature before me, was .none other than .the handsome Charles Rushton of other days. I approached the ed and took his thin hand in mine, he gazed long and earnestly at mo. t Did my tace wake dim 'memories of thft nt. ? memories of hope, of love, of io ? I know 4. - H i.. - - . . . uui, uui a siigni quiver passed over bis face, his hand trembled, but he spoke not 4 Charles Rushton,' I said in a voice that was full of emotion, 'I have come to see vou for the sake of other daK He covered his face, then low sobs burst from his heart. ' - 'Alas'!' he said, 'Ellen Carrington,;that you should meet me thus; oh, this mise ry V - . Misery indeed ! ray heart was too full to reply ; the scalding tears gathered in my eyes, and coursed silently down ray cheek. For an instant neither of us spoke ; memory was busy with the past; then he said, ... Do you remember when we last met V 'Yes, at the grand birthday ball my father gave to Ella.' He shuddered. How well I remember it j the pillars of the plaja wreathed with flowers, the chandeliers twined with the same, the band of music, the lovely happy girls, and loveliest of all, sweet Ella in her simple dress of white, such things are among the pure bright memories of my soul; I would not part with them far worlds. You were a child theb, Ellen.' ' Yes. I was fifteen.' It is fifteen years ago to day ; how strange that we should keep Ella's birth day together. You are thirty years old, Ellen ; how pale and sad you look. You have known sorrow since we last saw each oiKfet at' o.iU gtiUtinifb&i; 1 - 1 Yes, Charles Rushton,' was my reply, ' I have known , many and deep woes, and I have had to' wade through dark and stor my waters before my feet could gain the tranquil stream of peace and content.' ' And have 'gained them ?' he asked. ' Yes but not wfthout many a struggle and hart! fought battle, and it was not un til I lifted my eyes above and saw from whence ray sorrow cuine, that I became content to receive them.' He sighed. 1 1 shall never gain that en viable state, Ellen. My miseries are doub led by knowing that I myself was the crea tor of them. I might have been yes, but for myself,I might have been a respectable and happy man. Peace and content can never be my portion.' - ' I trust that even for you there may yet be peace and content in this world, Charles Rushton.' ' This world ; why I am fast passing away from its sunshine and its storms, its pleasures and pains, Ellen. Look at this hand,' he said, holding up his thin fingers ; ' and you never heard me cough, why, there is scarcely any life left in me when the spell is over. Ah, no ! this life for me is done ! the intoxicating bowl, Ellen, has brought me to despair and the grave.' ' Well never mind to talk about it now.' I leplied, noticing the increasing excite ment of his manner, f but try and eat some of this jelly I have brought you.' With the assistance of his mother I rais ed him up, ob, how fearfully weak he was, and he gratefully received the proffered delicacy. When I took my leave of him, be said, ' Ellen, you must come and see me every day. I have not long to live. Do not tell any one that you have found Charles Rushtoo ; let not my memory be again re vived among those who knew me in oth- er days. Let me be as I have been, dead to all the world. I promised hira, ho clasped my hand warmly, and we parted. When I reached my home I wept bitterly wept over the sad wreck that I had just seen, the once elegant Cbarle Rushton, brought to the grave, as he himself paid, and to the pit of despair 6y the fatal vice of intemperance. The next day I visited him again. He' was evidently weaker, but welcomed me gladly, and bade me sit close to him where he could talk to me. He spoke of his was ted life, his waited talents and opportu nities. 1 Few young men,' he sail, 1 commenced life with as" fair prospects as mine, and few have so completely, so utterly blasted them. When your-father retired from businees, I had saved enough from the generous sala ry he allowed me to enter into businew, for myself .For two years I was eminently successful ; 'then, the accursed demon of drink took possession of rae ; little by little the monster dragged tne down the feirfnl abyss until every fh ope was lost, audi found myself in a position from which es cape wa3 impossible. I left the city, and determined to begin a new life Isewhere. At first, I kept my good resolution, then I yielded to temptation, and otter ruin and degradation ensued. This wretched cplMft seized upon me, my money was gone, pjt respctabilitv, mv hopes, all that was worth living frr a year ago 1 returned .here to die. I found my mother living with a relative whose .doors were closed ujbn her degraded son. But; she left her home and came to me ; during this long year, racked with, pain, ill, hopeless, .despairing, oh, what a wretch ed life I have ledstill struggling, vainly struggling in the; grasp of the monster up on wnose darK altar 1 Itave sacrificed my hopes and my hfv Oh, Ellen, , Ellen, if theie is one man lip whom you take an in- A. A ' .. t J' mm - . teresi, warn mm, as vou love him, against luuuigiug iu tuc ieanui vice tnat has brought me to ruin and degradation.- . Fur three weeks,I daily visited Charles liushton in his miserable room of sickness and poverty. grew hourly weaker, but he seemed calmer and less desparing; as he neared the con fines of the grave. I j-ead to him, prayed with hira, and the tears would course si lently down his thin cheeks. He clung to me with the most tgrateful regard ; 'you ate an angel of goodness he would say, as I leant over him to. administer his nour ishment. The spirit of our lost Ella seem ed ever hovering over us, and when I min istered to the ill man, an angel face seem ed to look smilingly upon us. One year before this I had received her parting words. ' Ellen,' she said to me in the deep still ness of the night he died, 1 draw close, dear sister, and, let me reveal to you mv heart's secret. Before the dust of the crave settles upon my Fps, 1 me tell you how my whole life wen? forth in one wild, in toxicating, dream of love. J211en. it was my fate to love and not be loved again ; if you ever see Uharies Jtiushton, tell him that I lived and died true to the one love of my inc. roran answer I stooped and kissed her pale brow, and fw lie. first time I under stood the meaning nf ttie indifference which she had always evinced to the numerous gentlemen who, attracted by her loveliness. tnron ea around her. One night, it was the last of his life. I sat beside the bed of Charles Rushton. brace our first meeting we had not 8Doken of Ella, but now, he told me of his love for tier, he dwelt upon her beauty, her lovelv qualities, anj he said, 'I intended to ask her w -"- ujr ii woo ixi y mesuream, hut when that tearful vice took possession of me, I felt it would be 'wronging her to invite her to share my wretched fate. No, no, 1 loved her too well for that, and I have the consolation of knowing that however dark the shadows I have thrown upon the pathway of others, I never did aught to 111 ... ' o cloud her brilliant young life. She loved mo tint thonV tiuo.nn. x. i i i t i me not, thank heavens, or knew that I lov ed her.' 'Charles Rushton,' I said, ' with her dy ing breath Ella Canington charged me to give you this message : If you ever see Charles Rushton, tell him that I lived and died true to the one love of my life.' You were the object upon whom the pure warm' feeling of my sister's heart were lavished, and I know that through' her whole life she never ceased, hoping for your returning footsteps which, alas ! for her, never came again. Believe me the love of such an one as Ella Carrington is not given lightly nor withdrawn easily. Yes, the love that sprung into being in early life endured faithfully until that life itself had ceased to be.' He groaned aloud. ' My cup of misery is brimming over,' he said ' this last bitter drop has caused it to overflow.' The next morning when I called Charles Rushton was dead. I stood a moment and looked at the pale sad face. What a flood of bitterness swept over me at the sight. I could stand it no longer and quietly clos ing the door, I ascended the' dark "stair way. 4 How is he V asked the invalid ' Dead !' ' ijoa nave mercy upon the soul.' she fervently said, of the miserable viotim of iniczifjerunce. ijiiviKnujitKs. some one has said : " All men think all men mortal but themselves.' How true is this in reference to extortion All men think all mtn extortioners but them selves! and what is more remarkable, some pet sons m the innocence of their verdancy, r w tuiuK, mere is no sin in extortion-that only a few editors and others have declared it to be sinful. TW j that in the Holy Book-the Book of Books extortioners are classed with m,-. adulterers and liars, and not with mm sinners. Think of this-, ye church members, who are selling articles at one hundred times tneir value, ana are thus preying upon the life-blood of the people, and seriously jeop ,VJr the liberties of your country. 1 FOR THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE. A Call For Volunteers. Wanted For immediate service, at least One Million Volunteers! Men who are brave, firm and' "unconquerable": Men who can put to flight the greatest the world; men who are willing to defend their homes their wives and their little ones. The enemv is nnon ns at our very doors ah ! he is in our homes ! Will yon throw wide your door welcome him to yHr hearthstone, that he may de stroy you, and all on earth that is dear? . Will, ah ! can any Southern man be so base a coward, so mean a traitor, such an infamous scoundrel, as to sit with folded . bands, while the enemy is destroying his home his family and himself? Surely there are- men in the Confederacy, who will come at once to the rescue I Do not pause, to ask where the enemy is. Are you blind ? Has satan so mystified your vision that you cannot see ? If soj come with me, and I will show you the enemy drawn up in battle arrav : Tit Look ! now we are iu front of his ren dezvous. See ! Hell glares in the blood shot eyes of the leader, (Captain we shall call him,) as he holjds the glass forth, and bids kin men ' drink and forget their mise ry ; Drmk and be happy.' The compa ny yield to his entreaties, and one after another take a Mass from their Caotain's c r hand, 5 and eagerly swallow tn content". Look again, will vou ? See the whole company have taken glass after glass, and now we see the same hellish glance from every eye. Reason is dethroned. Pres ently we see an infuriated demon plunge a dagger through a brother's breast ; we see his victim reel, then fa 1 dead Look Listen ! can you not hear the wild shouts of diabolical spirits, , as they seize the soul of that fallen man, and drag it to the lowest depths of damnation. Loud shouts of hellish joy escape their lips as they plunge that soul into eternal torment! The scene does not end here! The gallows awaits its victim. Soon' the murderer is suspended betwixt heaven and earth, 'unfit for either. , But the soul I W.here is it ? Gone to-meet the one he had hurried into despair! another plunge another diabolical shout, another soul in ruin ! And this one tells his fellows that others are coming ! .That the Captain and his company will soon arrive. Those two who are gone and those who are going, are our friends our .fathers and brothers, led on by that demon Captain. Desolation is hanging its jetty wings over many homes. Poverty shows her grim face at every cor ner gaunt want perches upon the face of sweetest babes misery is marching over our Confederacy, breaking the tender hearts of trusting wives and mothers. All this, and much that never has, or can be written, is caused by your remaining quiet while the enemy is so near. "Ah" you exclaim ' but this is only a bar room.' Why did you not say ' the gate to Hell V .that black smoke curling up ! Come near . . or Come with me. vet. farther. Do vou Ke - j i j er ; do you see that ' wrom' all coiled rea- dy to pour forth a stream of damnation as long as eternity itself? This, I suppose, you would call a distillery ! There are thou sand of bushels of grain, which have there been made into Whiskey, that should have been given to the starving poor, instead of sending terror to thousands of homes, as it has done is still doing. But distilleries are not so bad. If we had no men to work them, they would do no barm. But it is the Distiller, who deserves the curses of heaven and earth, and God will surelv pour out his vials of wrath upon them. Poor lucre-deluded wretches poorer than gaunt poverty r-for they can carry nothing with them to stem the tide of remorse that will roll over them, when they join their brothers in torment. -Distillers will sell their country the souls of their neigh bors, for the ' Almighty dollar.' Uut to the Volunteers. V e want mill ions of men 'to fight under the glorious Temperance Banner : beneath whose folds there is peace and happiness. Beau-, hful Banner Long may it wave over our land. W c want men to fiflrbt kmsr Alco- hoi, and destroy every distillery. How can you destroy those distilleries? Get every man to join our grand company, and soon you will see the old distilleries and grog shops tattering and fallings Our worst, most dreaded foe, will be conquered when king Alcohol is dethroned, and the good old Temperance ship shall outride the storm. But you ask why all this harangue ? Has not our Convention done something to prevent all this!' imsh ! Breathe not that name again. I do, from my- heart, pity that body of men. They are only worshippers of Bachns ! I - do not mean those who firmly 'firmly advocated ..pro hibition,' and who now blush to know tbey belong to a body of men whose appetite conquered them. How many thousands f gallons of poison were distilled in the days of grace V Why did the Convention prohibit the distillation of liquor just ';ill the firgt of January, 1863 ? Why did they not sav : until at least five year af ter the close of the war They feared their supply would be gone I That was their sole reason. That part of the Con vention who were in favor of a prohi bition bill, those who nse intoxicating drinks deserve the enrse of the nation. fearlessly say 'they are a curse to the State, to the nation and the world ; and I earnestly pray that we may be speedily rid of all such men. The true men in the Convention, are receiving the blessings of the &tate and of high Heaven. Intemperance, that djabolical demon Intemperance, the fount of misery In temperance, passport to Hell the safe guard to torment the destroyer of peace, the breaker of hearts thou foul Intem perance ! surely tHou art the worst of evils. Come then, you braver ones of earth, come and let us raise high the temperance ban ner tnd rally such an army that ' all the demons on earth cannot defeat us. On to the rescue! ' Fly to save your country from mm your neighbors yourself to save trom Intemperance, that foul monstP r "a witch to the body, a devil to the soul." April, 1862. ERATO. , From the Charlotte Bulletin. Reply to " Boanereres." Mr. Britton : An " individual" pnllm. . himself " Boanerges," has made himself no torious, Dy appearing m the columns of the weauiMun, in defence of the distillers and their infamous traflic Because wronged wo men have been driven by stupid and drunken legislators, to take thinsrs in their own Vi a n fl a and smashed in the heads of a few "unoffen- umg wmsKey oarrels,.' they must be compar- eu lu uuhcrnevous moos and the women of the French Revolution. There is a great national difference between the women of France, and the women q America; were not this the case and women were possessed of the same excitable temperament which urged the women of Fronce to commit deeds of blood then, there would be the shadow of an excuse for "Boanerges" imagination bein wrought to such a pitch as to conceive there was another reign of terror not far distant. He may quiet his fears ; his head is still safe, (so far as the women are concerned.) notwithstanding it may sometimes become ' unsteady in consequence of having imbibed some of the contents ot an 4 unoffending' whiskey barrel. If B. wants the laws of his cormtty respcot&J and oVy ed, there H ueti-er way oi navjng it done than by aiding the country women in putting down the distillers; for -are thej not the cause of more broken hearts, broken h pari 3 nrwl broken laws than 'any other agency ? "Idle and in want of employment." That w3s tneunBinaest act.otaU! Where has Bo anerges been since the war begun, that he thinks the women of the South are in want of employment, and inconsequence have become mischief makers and law breakers? Not in the camp surely, or he would have had unmista kable evidence that they had bten employed yn guuu purpose. The stitchine knitting, spinning, and weaving with which we have been " idly" passing our time, shall never be used to clothe the form of a drunkard apologiser while w have a hand to raise or a voice to speak against it. -' Not having the honor to belong to the noble band of women who so bravel y and patriotical ly took things in their own hands, I cannot but applaud them, and hope they will continue the good work until there is not a drop Jf the precious stuff left. r o m. DLE Hannah. P. S. There is a Militia Colonel up here in the brushy mountains, a member of the late malicious Legislature, a young, able bodied, unmarried man, who was lately heard to say he did not blame men for not wanting to go to the war ; that it was very hard for them to leave their families to go and face the cannon's mouth. At the same time this brave man (who. has not volunteered,) has four large stills in operation, and is retailing spirits to these same men. while he drinks it nimseu Dy the wholesale. What do think of that, Mr. Editor ? you FOR THI SPIRIT OT THB AGE. LINES, V . In memory of Miss Maggie E. Brevard, who died near Fairticw, X. (7., April Sthy '62. Sweet Maggie! thou alas has gone to God, I've looked my last on thy calm, pale brow, And laid thy precious dust beneath the sod r-arth was no home for one so pure as thou. Oh, God I how desolate now seems th hnm Thou helped to make so happy, glad and bright; I cannot bear through those sad rooms to roam. Where tokens of our lost one mock my sight. Think not I will forget thee in my heart, Thou art enshrined while life remains, 'Twas agony ever from thy dust to part, Though well we know for thee to die is gain. Gone, gone to God ! Thy home is with Him now, And with the angelic host around His throne They've crowned with glory that cherub brow And claimed the brightest, loveliest for their own. Think not we grieve for thee, redeemed from sin, Thy happy soul can never know griefs power, I would not, if I could, our Maggie win Back to this sad earth for one short hour, But, oh! that I were with thee up in Heaven, With eager longing prayeth my sad heart, Grant Lord,, my sins and follies all forgiven I her may meet above, ne'er more to part LEON IDAS. JSF" AshevQje News" please copy.