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mo. l. miller & co., proprietors. | An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. jlewis*, grist, p?bii?her.
VOL. 4. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1858. NO. 8. imui . Cjjotce Jcctrj). j THE OLD THIRTEEN STATES. j < ! i God bless the good old thirteen States, God bless the young ones, too, Who cares for musty birth-day dates? God bless theru?old and new. ; f The old ones first our freedom gained, I Iu bloody fights of yore, ' The young ones have their rights maintained, ! ' As the old ones did before. j t Of South, or North, or East, or West, Twin sisters all they be ; j I One mother nursed them at her breast, V And that was liberty. J And tuny the wretch whose linnd shall strive i To cut their vital thread, * Be scorned while in this world alive, a And scorned when he is dead! B Now, fill the bowl with nature's wine, Let's drink "God save the King," 1 The only King by right divine, ^ The Sovereign Feople King ; For they're the only King I own, t All others I despise, Rut finil that raitrns nn heaven's throne. : The King that never dies. c c 01 may that scepter wide extend p O'er every land and sea, Without beginning, without end, And conquer to set free! A Jill Freedom's banner stands alone, 0 A beacon jn the sky, p And no other Lord shall own, But he who rules on high. 11 IIIMIMI a %\\ Original Sforg. ) . .1? s Writleu for the Vorkville Enquirer, D ISABEL; OB, THE LOST CHILD, I ? t BY A LADY OF LAURENS, S. C. c 0 Again kind reader do we meet, ? And each other gently greet, n To roam once more in fancy's bower h /\.nd beguile a weary hour. t] calm and beautiful was the night, t The fair moon was shining bright, V And sparkling in her trauquil ray, c The waves like a mirror lay. r Stars decked the firmament above, a Like gems on a brow we love; v Isles lay panting in the deep, Like fair bosoms wrapt in sleep. What ther, kind readers do t?e see * A moon, sky, anil islc-geraiped sea? 1 All Nature calm, and bright, and blost, gave one sud, care-troubled breast. v On a far island sleeping bright, ' A deed of horror chilled the night. And blood smells through the fragrant bow'rs - ^ Blent with the fragrance of the flow'rs. Afric's sable sons that night we see, 0 I'n bloody Uiapghts pledgee} t,e free, i a py white men leu?they sect their prey, And no master sees the day ! ? We deem it unnecessary to enter into a fi detailed account of the awful tragedy, pre- a suming that our readers have all heard of the St. Domingo insurrection and its awful c consequences. Those who have not, will ' c ?nd tile particulars painted targe, in the I 21 contemporaneous histories. J tl Our story is only connected with the for- tl tunc and fate of one family, who were resi- tl ding at that time upon the ill-fated island. t< Mr. DeVere, accompanied by his young fi and lovely bride, left his home in La Belle, p-r^ncc, and settled t^pon a lapge plantation y iq St. Jjomingo. They had lived upon that t' isle until they had throe children?all daugh- p ters?and really loved their adopted home t and country better than their native land.? c They owned a great number of slaves, who a all appeared happy and contented. Upon ,s Jfcat memorable night, Mr. DeVere and fam- a ily retired ro rest. i*o presentiment of com t ing danger disturbed their quiet repose? c wheu suddenly the fire of musketry aud the a yells of the savage 1110b aroused them. I j Springing to his feet, Mr- DeVere rushed I s out upon the piazza, where he was met by j \ of his o^ti spryants, a lad of a'qout If 11 3qmmers, who quickly and hurriedly told ' 1 him of the intended massacre, and of his determination to save the family if they < would follow him. His master listened in amazement to the astounding story, and did i not speak until the report of a gun near by, \ warned hiui of the danger in delav. and con- r ; ' y ~ ? - ^_ - e ijnnpd tup fit Phillip's vyor^s. Hur- f iiedly telling his terrified wifo, and collect- i t iug a few valuables, he and his family set! 1 out leaving everything?to follow a slave j ] ihey did not know where. But they knew j j that Phillip would not have attempted to j < rescue them, unless he thought that he would ! ] S^cge^d, ?>rjd fcr.cj same way prepared, for ho i well know that if he was eaught attempting ] such a thing, his life would be the forfeit. < Upon arriving at the 'oriuk of the ocean, 1 Phillip unmoored a little boat, and when all \ were safely ou board, quietly rowed out upon \ the bosom of the mighty deen. Wishing to i uast a tarewcii look upon their onoe happy, i oh i so happy home, which they were fast ' leaving and forever, they all turned and cast i one look behind, and what a sight met their i eyes ! The land of their adoption, and the birth place of their children, aud theirpleas- i ant hemp for many years? was enveloped iu i one sheet of flame. I i They stop and turning gaze, while o'er their brow, | And burning cheek, pure breezes freshly blow, What meteor bursts, with sudden blaze, on high, ! O'er the blue clearness of the starry sky ? Awful it rises like some Genii form, Seen 'midst the redness of the desert 'jtovr.:. And dote and r,:inr,vet, ,iver, wood, and height, 4?rQtp dim perspective start to ruddy light. Oh Heaven! the anguish of their souls, The rage, though fruitless, yet beyond control, Yet must they cease to gaze and fly For well they know to liuger is to die. Tears fell thick and fast, and prayers asnnndorl tn find fnr their Saffitv SO far. and tumiug to Phillip, Mr. DeVere a^keq him : in what way they could ever repay him, their I preserver, for rescuing them from so awful , and bloody a death. <Oh, never mind mas- j tor,' said the faithful servant, 'I have not got you quite safe yet. Wait until we get j to the ship.' 'Great God, we thank thee,' j exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. DeVere in one j breath ; 'we shall then be saved.' This was I the first intimation they had of Phillip's intentions, or what means he had prepared for heir safety. They soon afterwards reached he ship, and on board met several saved in ike manner as themselves, by the fidelity of i slave. The vessel soon left the vicinity of ?t. Domingo, and it was not until the vessel had been sailing some time, that Mr. DeVere started from his weeping family and 'riendsto hunt up Phillip, and bring him to eccivc their thanks and future protection ; )ut after looking all through the ship, he vas forced to come to the conclusion that Phillip was not on board. Then he bitterly epented his negligence in not looking him ip sooner; and upon joining his wife in the labin, they both knelt and offered up a prayer o Almighty God that Phillip, their savior nd preserver trorn worse tnan aeatn, mignt lot be killed by the revengeful blacks upon lis return to the island ; but that he might ivc long, and that they might be allowed he privilege of rewarding him at some future ime. The ship touched at several places upon ts passage to Kichmond, Virginia; and aaong others, at a small trading port occulied by the Indians on the coast of Florida, rhere the captain stopped for several hours. Irowds of the dusky sons of the forest came n board, for the purpose of exchanging the ruits which grow in such wild luxuriance n that delightful country, for tobacco, beads nd other trifling articles. After leaving his Indian village some little time, Mrs. Defere missed her eldest daughter, Isabel.? learch was immediately made, but the mising child, the darling of her parents, oould 10 where be fouud. Various conjectures i-ero formed by all on board, but the current elief of almost the entire company was, that he little girl was accidently drowned. Who ould paint the grief and heart-breaking agny of the berea^d parents. She was their xst born?cradled in their arms while the ialo of romance yet shone bright about their aarriage life, and the golden oloud of hope inged the dim form of their future. She ms endeared to them by many ties and assoiations; she was their fairest child, and aound her, clustered all her parent's pride, mbition, and hopes of future happiness, rhen Isabel would not only be a belle, but he hope and stay of their declining years, t is true, they had two other daughterc, but hey were quite small, and not near so inteligent or sprightly looking as their more faored sister. The vessel, finally, after a cry short passage, arrived at Richmond. It was well for 3Ir. DeYere that he had >een brought up in a mercantile house, for iow that he had to support his family by his wn exertions, it was easier for him, without h}' capital, to become a clerk, than anything Ise, for he could not speak or read the Knlish language correctly, and would have ouud it hard to earn a support for his family t anything else except clerking. Mrs. DeVere employed a governess to take harge of her daughters manners and eduatioo, and Mr. DeYere received a large iiary ac "head clerk in a wholesale house in tie oity, and all would have been well with :ie DeYere family if Isabel had only been here; but her fate was enveloped in mys;ry, and even the thought of her was painall to her afflicted parents. Ouc beautiful night, Mr. DeYere pre?:uj i.:, in vW'i-u HjJUU iiio >riiw: iu auuuuipaiijr iiiui vu he Theatre, which had been such a favorite lace of resort in other days, that her affecionate husbaud thought it would amuse her iow, and cause her to forget her troubles for i short time at least. She would not conent to go, however, without her children, .n? jf thfiy Vicnt, the guVOVueSo must go oo. So they all went. The theatre was lensly crowded, for the play was Othello, md the actors good It was just at that >art in the tragedy where the jealous hushaud lands bj the couch of his sleeping wife, vith the pillow in his hand, ready to pouimit hp fatal dped. iijvery eye was tjxed anxiousy upon the staga,?some even were weeping ?when lo ! there burst a startling cry? < Fire 1 Fire!:" A sudden panic seized every person withn the walls of the theatre. Mr. DeVere, vith his wife, rushed towards the door; the governess with a child hy each hand quickly bilowod, but in the bustle and confusion o: he awful moment, parents and children, lusband and wife, were seperated. Mrs. DeVere reaccd the street after being almost stifled with smoke and nearly crushed to loath by the frenzied crowd. She rushed aome, expeptiog thus a she loved already here, where she was met at the door by Mr. DeVere who eagerly inquired where the jhildren were ? Neither of the excited rvirrmtc Vinrl ?ftftn thft littlft crirls sin ftp thftV r""""'""'" v..~ ..VW~ J, J ivere till together near the door, and sad to tell, the eyes of that father and mother sever again rested upon the loved couuteumces of either of their children upon earth, fhe agonized father rushed franticly back to the theatre in search of the absent daughters, where he was seriously injured by some of the falling timbers, and was carried home lifeless. Ilis wife received his inauiuiate form, and thiuking him dead, and that the last and only tic to this world was severed, fell lifeless upon the floor.? Although they were comparatively strangers, in a strange land, they received every attention. The agonized wife and mother was * . 1 .1 _ l' j restores re (;pnscioasuei..i, iue waugiea body of Mr. DeVere was bound up and a gentlo opiate adiniuistered, and soon the suffering patient sank into a gentle slumber. The composing draught which the physiciau gave him was a blsssed nepenthe producing oblivion and repose. Bright rose the sun Oh ; not for mortal tcays Doth nature wcetler frop her career, Nor'is the earth less smiling or less fair, though breaking hearts her gladness may not share. O'er the cold urn the beam of summer glows, O'er fields of blood the zephyr freshly blows ; Bright shines the sun, thought be dark below, And skies arch cloudless o'er a world of woe. Pright and fair was the day after the burning of the theatre, and it was a day long to be remembered by the inhabitants of Kichmond. Hundreds had been hurried from time to eternity withot warning, many families were left desolate, while the survi vors went weeping and mourning about the streets. The city seemed to be one vast scene of desolation and sorrow. Mr. DeVcre gradually grew worse and worse, and finally died. He had just lived long enough in Richmond to establish himself anew? to bring around him a circle of fond acquaintances?and?to die? All that kindness could do to cheer his sufferings?all that christian sympathy could effect, was freely, gladly done; not only for the dying man, but for his almost distracted wife, who now felt that her last hope of happiness in this world was gone. She must now weep and dwell aloue? Her husband was gone, the breath had fled, And what had been, no more should be : The well known form, the welcome tread, 0 where are they and where is he ? I know that you, gentle reader, will sympathize with the bereaved and lonely Mrs. DeVere. She had many kind friends, some of whom were also weepingand mourning for friends and relatives, whose bodies were destroyed by that devouring element. They had not even the consolation of rendering the last offices of love and friendship to them upon earth. Mrs. DeVere told her sympathizing friends that nothing but the anticipation of a joyful, most joyful re-union, with her husband and children in that better land, could sustain her under the presure of present misery, and cheer her through her lonely pilgrimage upon earth. The. thought that she would meet them in Heaven would be a greate comfort to her? "Hope springs eternal in tlie human breast? Man never is, but always to be blest; The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come." In winding up her husbands affairs, Mrs. Devere had but a small pittance left. Then she recollected her husbands last words to her: 'Annie, my wife, write to my sister or her husband in Louisiana, for I have to leave you alone and almost penniless I am afraid. You know Judge Harper is wealthy, and you can make your home with them.' She therefore wrote in compliance with her husbands wish, to Judge Harper, who immediately upon the recipt of his sister-in-law's lottcr, started for Richmond, where he arrived, and offered Mrs. ReVere a homo with him, and urged her to prepare to start for New Orleans as soon as possible. Again we see Mrs. DeVere upon the bosom of the deep blue sea. She had a pleasant voyage, and soon landed in the city of New Orleans. Judge Harper did not reside in the city, but spent most of his time with his family at his plantation. His oarriage soon arrived, and, accompanied by Mrs. DeVere, he left New Orleans for his country home. The residence was situated upon the banks of the river Teche, and was surrounded by gardens, the shrubberry of which reached to the waters edge, and the hedges of rose apd hawthorn, of lemon and ovango, every where met the ravished eye. The family consisted of the Judge and his lady, two daughters, and one son. All three of the children were grown?the boy was the eldest. He was studying law in New Orleans, and not being at home, we will not at present introduce him to the reader. When A! Pfl PA npritror] ?i f PncAi-illn ^ fKo l^iU' I v * V> util T VU UU i.iV/OV/ I liiv ^lliv country residenoe of her husband's sister) she was met at the door by Mrs. Harper, her sister-in-law, who received her very kindly, and taking her by the hand ushered her into the sitting room. Mrs. Harper was a fine looking, fashionable woman of the world, a real votary of pleasure, and uofc one oaloulated I to render Mrs. DeVere happy in her dependent situation. Judge Harper was very different from his wife?he was a generous whole-souled man. His son and youngest daughter resembled him in disposition, but ! Avcrilla, the eldest daughter was her , mother's counterpart, Soon after Mrs. I)ej here's arrival, she was presented by Mrs. ! Harper to her eldest daughter Avcrilla.? j , She was indeed a creature to be worshiped ; ; homage was the atmosphere in which she i had always lived. She had always breathed that spiced and perfumed air, but she was an impetuous, impulsive, and proud girl, and although ahc was very beautiful, she was not calculated to win the love and confidence of any one at first sight. Iler haughty look, her flashing black eye, and scornfully turned lip, rather repelled than invited confidence, Mrs. DeYcre rather shrank from than reciprocated hey protestations of love and pleasure ! at seeing, and welcoming to ltoseville, her j dear aunt, thinking her words were matter of form, not siucere, and from her heart.? I But how different were her feelings when Flora, heryouugest niece, came shyly into the room. She had an pvprgssjoq very sad und wistful?oo dreamy that once seen she | oould not be forgotten. Her large languid j eye, would hauDt the memory like the iin! age of a young, doubting, half despairing j soul, contemplating the chauces and the inj evitable sorrows of the life upou which it is 1 entering. Flora had ft brow open and fair, i eyes deep dark and liquid, a pure complexion | bluely veiued, and a slight graceful gentle torm \ all signs or tnat exquisit, sensibility > which saddens the beholder, as if they indicated a texture too frail for the rough handling of life. Mrs. DeYeye tbat she could repose the utmost oontidence in Flora?that in all her sorrows and troubles, she would meet with ready sympathy from Flora?that in fact her youngest niece would supply the place of those who were gone.? In the mansion of Judge Harper, Mrs. DeVere was surrounded by every thing that heart could desire, every luxury that wealth c,Ov\ld procure, and with Flora as a companion, sho was contented, if not happy. And when at last the forest so lately clothed in a foliage of living green was fast assuming the golden tints of Autumn, and here and there a naked bough with prophectic desolation waved its arm across the sky indicating the approach of winter, considerable preparations were making at lloseville, for the family spent their winters in New Orleans. We will accompany them to Judge Harper's family abode in the city, and bidding them adieu for a short time, with yourpermission, reader, return to the cost of Florida, and see if we can solve the mystry of Isabel DeVere's disappearance. Before taking leave ol our friends, we will wish them a pleasant winter in the gay city, hoping we will meet them all well and happy upon our return. The sun was calmly sinking to rest behind the western hills, as an Indian hunter wended his way along the margin of a pure, clear stream. The jarring elements were hushed to peace, and nought was heard on the flowery banks of that silver stream, save the rustling of the leaves, fanned by the balmy zephr?the planter flitting from shrub to shrub, chanting his merry lay, and numberless smaller songsters, whose notes, though not so sweet, added variety to the concert. This Iudian hunter was a fair sample of the brave race to which he belonged. His statute was gigantic, and he had the bold quick tread of one who had wandered frequently and fearlessly among the terrible hiding-places of nature. He had a mind which education and motive would have nerved with giant strength, but growing up in savage freedom, it wasted itself in dark, fierce ungovernable possions.? Oswingo?this young Indian?was on his way to the wigwam of the old Indian chief, where resided Talula, a fair Indian maid, daughter of the chief, and the pride of his heart. He had traded with the captain of a vessel that day for several articles, and was carrying them as presents to Talula, when his attention was suddenly arrested by seeing a child apparently asleep reclining upon the green sword. Pausing, he examiued her attentively; she was not one of his own race, although her olive complexion and raven hair, bespoke the resident of a Southern clime. Her head was resting upon her arm, and her raven curls fell around her like a sable veil, not hiding, but enhancing the perfect beauty and symmetry of her childish face and form, and the pearly tears upon her rosy cheek, spoke plainer to the Indian's heart than words could tell, that she was unhappy, and had wept until sleep had sealed her bright eyes, and stopped for a time the fal ling tear-drops. The hunter drew near the fair sleeper to examine her more closely, when she opened her eyes and looked wildly and anxiously at him. Then uttering a scream she spraDg to her feet, and started off like a frightened deer; but Oswingo caught her arm and gently spoke a few French words to her, some of which he had learned from the captains of vessels trading upon the coast. She looked eagerly into his face, and enquired for her mother and father, but poor Oswingo did not understand what she said. He had said all that he knew in French. He could not make her understand his language, but taking her hand, he pointed to the setting sun and then in the direction of the village, and walked on, leading the trembling child. When he arrived at the wigwam, he led the little girl up to Talula, who was alone in the wigwam, aud placed her little white, soft hand into the hand of the Indian maid, and speaking to her kindly, told the story of bis finding the little pale face asleep in the woods, and now he wanted her to take care of her and keep her. Poor Isabel (for of course, my reader, you have guessed it was her) looked bewildered, and the bright black eyes began to fill and the tears to course each other down the pale cheek; but Talula smiled kindly, and taking Isabel upon her lap, stroked und smoothed her raven curls, and brushing the tear drops from the beautiful dimpled cheek, pressed her lips upon them caressingly. Isabel looked at Talula, and smiled through her tears. With her, we will take a look at the maid. Her starry eyes were fringed with lashes as dark and silky as the raven ; her eyebrows were arched like two bows of ebony?herlips were painted blue, and her nails were tinged with gold-colored henna; her slender form, graceful as the neck of theswan clearing the waters of her own blue lakes; and her tiny foot, and agile step, elastic as the tread of the young panther upon the quicksands of her native stream. Never having been thwarted in any way in her life, she was gay and happy The next morning, when Isabel awoke, slip felt as every one does in coming out of j the kind oblivion of sleep, the full weight of her calamity. She seemed translated to a new world. Every object around her was savage?so different to her own peaceful home was the rough uncomfortable wigwam; and how great the contrast between her own gentle mother and the dusky maid, Taluk. But as the morning advanced, and she felt the cheering influence of the sun, and heard the notes of familiar birds?the voices of old friends?her spirit revived, and she was calm and serene, if not happy. The ordinary sorrows of childhood are easily assuaged, but Isabel's were not common sorrows. She was not old enough, however, to comprehend at first, the novelty of her peculiar situation. She only knew that she had wandered too far from the vessel, and was among strauge people, whose language she did not understand?th&t 9he was separated from all she loved, for how long she did not know. But she had no idea that her father or mother would rest until she was found, for they must have seen her walking upon the beach, and knew of her leaving the vessel. But when days swelled into weeks, and then months rolled by, and no change in her situation was made by time, except that she had learned to understand and speak to her new friends, she became reserved in her manner, and often sat all day in tearless silence. But the waters of bitterness were gathering fearfully at their fountain, and she would have to roam through the forest to indulge the bitterness of her grief alone, and view those charms which even grief had not deprived of their power to soothe if pp.t please. She could not fprtge'? hills and streams of hei dear native isle, or the blue skies that bent like a blessing, above her childhooh's home. Oh ! when would she see her loved, dearly loved, birthplace again ? I Time passed on?Isabel grew morebeauti ful every day, and showed such a fondness for : her protector, Oswingo, that Talula became i jealous, and treated poor Isabel unkindly, i and even harshly; this, added to the rest of her sorrows, weighed her down with grief.? She was young?but sixteen summers had passed since her eyes first opened upon this world of sorrow. Three years ago she was ' happy in her father's house?now she was separated fromc all who were near and dear : ?in a strange country, amongstrange beings ?and no prospect of ever seeing father or mother?her dear, devoted mother. Will ? i..?:? ouc HCVUI u^aiu uc IUUUIJ uuiuasuu ui iuviu^ly pressed to the maternal bosom ? Oh ! is there any love iu all this extended sphere of existence which bears any comparison with the tender deep affection between a mother and a child. Talula watched Oswingoand the pale face all the time, and if at noy time Oswingo came in and finding Isabel's eyes suffused in tears, would try to comfort her. Tulula's jealous car caught every word, and the least expression of affectionate regard would arouse the sleeping demon, and she would dart an angry glance first at Isabel and then at Oswingo, which would make her recoil and fill him with alarm. He was aware of Talula's strong passions, and of her devoted love for him,and those quick, searching looks, revealed to him what she might feel towards a rival. Hay after day passed on and Oswingo saw plainer and plainer that Isabel, was not safe under the protection of Talula alone. The jealous girl was miserable?she saw that when the faithless Oswingo was present, his eye continually rested on Isabel and when he was absent, it was plain that his heart still lingered with her. The brilliant feathers of birds, their curious eggs, wild flowers, and every pretty treasure of the forest, were laid at her feet, and Oswingo was sufficiently rewarded with even a faint r...... t..?i: auiuu iiuuj i^duti a uu^ni upsj wijcu ?uiuia felt that she would give even life itself, for one such proof of his love. She neither ate nor slept?her form wasted, and her face became so haggard that Isabel shrunk from her as from some blighting demon. One evening, just at twilight, Oswingo and Isabel were alone together. He Jcagerly seized upon that moment to make his feelings known to Isabel, and in the universal language of a loving nature, he said, <Oh ! Isabel why repine and waste so many hours fretting and weeping for the friends you have lost? ]3e my loving squaw?let my home be thy home?and my people thy people.' She was rather stunned by this proposition, but quickly recovering her self-possession she replied. Oswingo, you are betrothed to ; another; Talula is your promised bride?how , can I, a poor dependant upon your bounty seek, or even wish to supplant her in your affections? No, no, my kind friend, I do not wish to render Talula unhappy ; she has been my protectress and friend, my almost mother. I3ut my good friend, I shall always ; love you for your kindness." And bursting into tears Isabel arose and left Oswingo alone, i Telula had been wandering about some I time?she could not be still?and seeing Isa- , bei and Oswingo in earnest conversation, unpcrceived, approchcd near them just as Isabel said she would always love Oswingo. Telula did not wait to bear more, one word only?love?of which she felt the full import, penetrated to her brain. She instant- 1 ly resolved on a project, to which, though t i i ? _ _ 1 . 1 most aDnorrenc to every gooa ana generous feeling of her nature, she was stimulated by the madening passions of love and jealousy. She resolved upon one thing?to get rid of Isabel at all hazards, notwithstanding the dif- : ficulty or the fearful obstructions opposed to i her design ; for that Oswingo watched her with an eagle's eye she new. There were among her tribe certain supernatcd women, mostly blind or crippled, pretending to super-natural powers and dealing in charms and witchcraft. These bedlames 1 1 were held in undefined and superstitious awe by young and old. They dressed themselves in strange and fantastio attire, and wore hideous masks to heighten the effect of their uncouth appearance. They were avoided by all, through mingled emotions of 1 fear and detestation. Telula availed her 3 self of this superstition to effect her design, I knowing that if she placed Isabel in the hands of one of these women for a short time, until she could get rid of her altogether, she would be safe from detection, 1 for Oswingo would never search for her I there. She, therefore, went that night 1 when all were asleep to the house of one of these beldames who lived upon the sea cost, and telling the old hag her story, begged her I to aid in concealing the pale face from her faithless lover. She readily complied to secrete Isabel for a time, and Telula promised to meet her soon again, and they would arrainge the best plan for getting rid of her altogether. to be continued. City Farming.?A friend of ours who has a taste that way, has indulged a little in city farming. His particular idosyncrasy was to supply his own table with fresh eggs and home-made poultry, and that he did.? Having a taste, too, for statistics and domestic as well as political economy, he kept an aooount, charging his ducks and hens with what they eat, and crediting them with what they gave him to eat. The principal food was corn at SI a bushel, or corn meal at three cents a pound. For the many crumbs that fell from a rich man's table into their insatiate maws he said nothing, nor for their ' attendance. A small charge was made for interest upon a plain bouse, fixtures, and necessary conveniences of a poultry yard, 1 and the purchase^ feed. At first there was ' a family feeling of intense satisfaction over i the fresh eggs, broiled chickens and fat i ducks. True, it was thought that 'father ' was foolishly pai ticular, to have all the eggs ? counted and meat weighed,' but that they submitted to in view of the sweet results.? ' They bragged some of "our poultry yard," and so a year passed, and then the books were posted, to show the profit and loss of city farmiug. We shall not give the items; the gist of the operations was that the eggs cost eighty-seven cents a dozen and, the broiled chickens and fat ducks 81 50 a pouud. The poultry yard is for sale.?X. Y. Tribave. Miscellaneous easing GENERAL JACKSON'S TOILET. The genial temper of President Buchanan, his easy, pleasant manners and racy convernnf i/\n U n rr/\ nlwA/iJf* MAn ! i r> > n r??<A A 4 ajuuu, uavc aucauj icuucicu uuu a ?icai favorite iu society, abroad as well as at home, and few of our public men have laid up such a stock of amusing and valuable reminiscences. There is oue anecdote which he tells of General Jackson which is 30 characteristic of the old hero that it is worth preserving. The President relates that one day, during the administation of Old Hickory, he went to the White House to ask permission to present to him the celebrated Miss Betsy Canton. Gen. Jackson readily assented, and named the next day for the interview. At the appointed hour Mr. Buchanan repaired with his fair charge to the Presidential mansion, and leaving the lady in one of the drawing-rooms he mounted to the private cabinet of the President. To his great surprise and disappointment, he found the General buried in his books and papers, and attired in a plain morning dress, his chin uDshaved and his favorite pipe in his mouth. The Senator from Pennsylvania was grievously embarrassed. He was apprehensive that if he announced Miss Canton's presence, the gallant veteran would descend all in nrr/tige as he was. Mr. Buchanan did not like to expose the renowned belle to such a shock as that, and on the other hand he equally dreaded offering a suggestion to the fiery old hero. There was no alternative, however, and he had to state that Miss Canton was waiting the General's presence in the green drawing room. Up jumped Old Hickory at the first word, and laid down his pipe. There was not a moment to be lost, so Mr. Buchanan, iu a timid and apologetic manner, ventured to observe that "the lady could very well wait till the President had shaved himself." The General saw what he was driving at, and shook his frizzled head at him like the mane of an enraged lion. "Buchanan" thundered out the impetuous old man, "did you ever hear of the man in Kentucky who got rich by minding his own business?" Without stopping to say whether he was acquainted with the remarkable person in question, the experienced Senator fled from the storm, and took refuge with his lovely companion down stairs. In a few minutes afterward, the hero of New Orleans entered the room with that dignity of manner which no man knew better how to assume, and great was Mr. Buchanan's relief to find that not ouly was his face quite virginal in its smoothness, but that he was got up in his best black suit, with boots of faultless radiance. Mary Maloney's Idea of a Lover.? 'What are you singing for?' said I, to Mary Maloney. 'Oh, I don't know, ma'am, without it's because me heart feels happy.' 'Happy, are you, Mary Maloney? Let me see; you don't own afoot of land in the world ?' Foot of land is it ?' she cried with a hearty Irish laugh. 'Oh, what a hand ye be after for joking, why I hasn't a penny, let alone the land.' 'Your mother is dead ?' 'God rest her soul, yes,' replied Mary Maloney, with a touch of genuine pathos, 'may the angels make her bed in heaven.' 'Your brother is still a hard case, I sup pose.' ?Ab, you may well say that. It's nothiDg but drink, drink, drink, and beating his poor wife that he is?the creature.' 'You have to pay your little sister's board?' 'Sure, the bit creater, an' she's a good little girl, is Hinny, willing to do whatever I axes her. I don't grudge the money that goes for that. 'You haven't many fashionable dresses, either, Mary Maloney?' 'Fashionable, is it ? 0, yes, I put a piece of whalebone in me skirt, and me calico gownd looks as big as the greatladies. But then ye says true, I hasn't but two gowns to me back, two shoes to me feet, and one bonnit to me head, barring the ould hood ye gave me.' 'You haven't any lover, Mary Maloney ?' '0, be off wid ye?ketch Mary Maloney getting a lover these days when the hard times is come. No, no, thank heaven, Ian't got that to trouble me yet?nor I don't want it. There was mo sister that married in ould Ireland, she took up with a lover at the time I took down wid the measles?an shure, I got well first. She used to go about pinin' and sighin' till me very heart was achin' to see her so dolemfullyj but by and she got married, and her husband drinked and bate her, and so that's all she got for her sorrow. Ketoh this Marv Malonev takine any such j J 0 0 distress on her as that.' 'What on earth, then, have you got to make you happy ? A drunken brother, a poor helpless sister, no mother, no father, no lover, why, where do you get all your happiness from ?' The Lord be praised, Miss, it growed up in me. Give me a bit of sunshine, a clean dure, plenty of work and a sup at the right time, and I'm made. That makes me laugh and sing; and then if deep trouble comes, why?God helpin' me?I'll try to keep my heart up. Shure, it would be a sad thing if Patrick McGrue should take it into his head to come and ax for me, but the Lord willin', I'll try to bear up under it.' The last speech upset my gravity. The idea of looking upon a lover as an aflictioo was so droll I But she was evidently sincere, having before her the example of her sister'a husband, and herdrunken brother.?Boston (Hire Barnch. Sam Patch.?We find in an old paper the following account of the last leap of the famous and fool hardy Sam Patch, who lost his life in jumping over the Genesee Falls, at Rochester, N. Y. It will be remembered that he had before leaped off the Genesee Falls, and also at Niagara. His last leap was tnken November 13, 1829. This singular and presumptuous being has indeed made his 'last' jump. Friday, 13th instaut, at the hour appointed, in handbills which had been previously circulated, headed 'Sam's Last Jump,' the banks of the river on each side below the falls, for nearly half a mile were crowded with spectators. Sam appeared amid the shouts and 1 L~ il.. VI A iiuriuus ui me e* pet; taut uaaeujviagc. xx, stage had been erected twenty-five feet higher than the brink of the precipice, making the height about a hundred and twenty feet from which he was to leap. He bad before jumped from the precipice without injury, and now determined to prove by experiment, (in his own language,) that some things can be done as well as others, ascended the stage, and was again greeted by the cheers of the spectators. Sam addressed those immediately below for a few moments in a language that seemed to say he half anticipated the result of his rashness. After adjusting his dress, he bowed to the vast assemblage on either side of the unenviable station, then on the other, and deliberately leaped off, was for a moment in mid-air, and then engulphed in the abyss beneath. We stood near where he struck, and for a moment after he left the stage, heard not a word. Every heart beat with a dread suspense and every eye was strained to behold his rising; but they saw him not, for the water still engulphed its victim. At length, when not a wake or sign gave further clue to hope, the halfformed shouts of joy died into the breathing murmurs of 'He's dead.' 'He's gone !' and in a moment the vast crowd knew full well its truth, and turned half aside to conceal} the horror that they felt. Thus has Sam \ Patch, who had rashly, buttill now uninjured sported with the law of nature, given us an example that vain and mortal man may not \ trifle with the bounds prescribed by an omnia cieofc trod. The body has not yet Deen toana. Too Good to be Lost.?The following good one from the Memphis Bulletin, is too good to be lost: Vinot Un.?We have a friend?or, with the emphasis of the inimitable Toodles, we have a friend, who, for the nonce, we shall call 'the Major,' thought his right to the prefit is somewhat questionable. Now the Major has had, through life, one besetting sin, and that is an unconquerable love of a certain game of cards known as vivgt un, which is the French for twenty-one. This well known game, a fat wife and a large family, arc about the only weakness that can be laid to the Major's charge. How often he has been married the record sayeth not, nor is it important. Suffice it that during over thirty odd years of the Major's wedded life, as his wealth increased and his hairs become gray, one after another, in regular succession, his board was honored with the presence of miniature editions of himself, until the number had reached twenty, when the Major concluded things had gone far enough and should be stopped. But they did'nt, as the Major in due time found out, for he had calculated withouteonsulting his wife. There were indications of another bond of union and well-springof happiness. The Major became nervous, for his nomenclature was exhausted. In his desperation, ho finally declared that the coming heir to his name and fortunes, whether boy or girl, be named vingt un. In vain the old woman remonstrated. The Major was inexorable. The new comer, be- ** "" ing the twenty-first, should wag his way through life with that appropriate title. Iu an ante-room the Major' awaited the announcement of the little stranger's sex. The nurse appeared, and tp the Major's horror, whispered the terrible word?twins: ?uu8tea, by thunder,' yelled the Major, " ichy didn't I stand on twenty ?" What the People of Kansas Think of tne Agitation.?The people of Kansas, who wish to have an opportunity to mind their own business, free from the trouble that the political demagogues of both parties in that Territory are producing, are beginning to speak out through the press in favor of settling the agitation by giving them a State Constitution immediately. The "Kansas Daily Ledger," published at Leavenworth City, says: "Niggers is not the great bone of contention in Kansas, and those who cry out most lustily for 'nigger' or 'no nigger,' haven't money enough, as a general thing, to buy a plug of tobacco with. The real bone of contention is power and the spoils; and the poor nigger is made to bend and bow to suit the purposes of these political demagogues, that they may ride into power and obtain some of the spoils:?and that's all. The free State party nor the pro-slavery party of Kansas care anything about the moral condition of the niggers, but they must have a text to preach from, (a hobby to ride,) and the 'poor nigger' has been preached in all his aspects throughout our land. "Let Congress attend to their own business, and let us attend to ours. We are heartily sick and tired of this infernal nigger agitation ; we have had a surfeit of it?it injures our business, blasts our prospeots and keeps up a continual strife. Let Kansas be admitted into the Union, somehow or other, and with some kind of a Constitution, that we may have peace." ? Why was Pharaoh's daughter like a broker ? Because she got a little prophet from the rushes on the bank. young man without moneys among the ladies, is like the moon on a cloudy sight . ?he can't shine. . _ .