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by featherston & hoyt. anderson court house, s. c, tuesday afternoon, august 21, 1860. volume l?number 2. iprf^forg of ??-ffi? fife. /Vom /Ac Ar?o 3 orA- Mercury. fig g&ggfl&s; .Sweet Nellie JIudyn, memory reverts tu thee now, even as I saw thee in tlic days of childhood, when I imagined that thou wort scarcely less fair titan the bright beings that roamed in celestial fields. But thou art::gonc-^-shadows thick and dark enveloped thee, until no longer aWe to await thy Maker's time to deliver theo from tho weight of sorrow; : thine own hand snapped the golden chord of life, and launched thy soul into eternity. The subject of our sketch was the oniy daughter of a retired merchant; she had been motherless from her infancy, and for that reason had always been her father's especial care, as she was also" his chief comfort and solace. V Mr. Haydn's residence was near tiie s^ho'olhouse that I attended until I leftj1 h?t.-.o for boarding school. I often saw NclUe?^jie won my childish fancy af ~-SJ^.*9 her I went with all my little grievances;'from her expected comfort and sympathy. Oft.m have I stood be? fore her, my cheeks burning with indig? nation front some real or faneied wrong., when one stroke of her fair hand over my brown locks and a few words spoken in her -kindly, affectionate manner, would ?ilm mo at ?ncej and with my arms around her neck, my head resting on her bosom, I Ikivc listened, as she strove to teach me the lesson "forgive and forget.''. -Hers: was the style of beauty mat would naturally captivate a childish imagina? tion. Tall and slender, with graco in ev? ery motion peculiarly her QWfcj complex? ion pure as tdabaster?not a shadow of color unless animation lent rts aid; and then it was but the tint of tie interior of the most delicately-colored si-a-shcll. She reminded one.of something pure, ethereal?a white lily, a Jew-drop; but her eyes, I could uot descrjtV.ih.em?they haunt mv imagination still; and eveif" now. methinks I see them gating into my. own through the long, d'm vista of the past, as in days of yore. Truth and iu noceuco were mirrored in their blue depths ; her hair was gulden, and fell to her waist in n-mass-of ringlets; the gen oral outline of her features betokened a yielding nature, but lift* mouth was firm? ness itself. When Neiiie ajout eighteen years of age. a son of one it! the neighbors re? turned, .alter havingbeen absent for some years. When he (et home Nellie was a . child 7 on his return, he found not the awk? ward school-girl,"bit the graceful, digni? fied woman, lierpiquant originality and unstudied grace immediately attracted tiie man of the vorld; and he who had flirted with the gay belles of Paris, roam? ed through delicious groves with the fair daughters of Italy, listened to woman's siren tongue in .almost every clime, was diseiichanlod'o.'" them all when he saw our sweet Nellie?ns wo were w?nt to call her; and she bvod him with the fervor of a frank, gcnooiis nature, lint her father would not listen to* his daughter linking her fortunes with those of Richard Law, and going Lo England with him as ho wished. liiohard'f impetuous spirit took fire at this, and h; mentally vowed that Nellie i should be Iis before he left the shores of America. Months passed on; NelHc re? mained with her hither, but Richard had crossed :hc sea. At first, letters were frequent: but, at last, they ceased alto? gether. Two?three years passed away. Nellio's.anxicty preyed upon her health and spirits; and her eyes, from being oc? casionally lit up with a mournful, wistful expression, assumed it altogether; but still a secret hope and faith in Richard buoyed her up, and she lived and hoped on, week after week, until at last he re? turned. Oh ! what a thrill of thankful? ness entered the soul of Nellie; she never dreamed of his being faithless?ho would explain all, and she would be happy again. But a week passed; she did not see him; he seemed to avoid her ; and, in tho ago? ny of suspense she endured in those days, her heart alternated between hone and fear; and, finally, settled in despair. But she would not give him up?she must soe him once more. She saw him?itbut sealed her doom. With what intensity of feel? ing sho listened to his words! ;; Nellie, leave mo; I am a wretch un? worthy of your, love or notice. I have deceived yon?wronged you. I am mar? ried, and the father of two little ones; despise me as you Will, but say that you do not love me." For a moment not a syllabic escaped her white lips. Those words were brand? ed on her soul; she betrayed no emotion; but with a mingled effort crushed down the flood of feeling that surcharged her heart; and with the words: i; Pid she love you more t?an I did," prepared to leave him. -$er calmness led him to think that she had partly forgotten him; and with the words: " Nellie, I will see yoa soon sfnd talk matters over," thcy parted?parted thus coolly. On her^turn liomo, her father inqui . red whei/she had been. She told him. He expostulated with her on the impro? priety ot calling on one who had appa? rently forgotten her. But her reply, I spokcrf in the veiy calmness of despair, .paralysed him. " Jnther, bo is my busband: ho has deserted mc?wrecked my happiness for tinW and eternity!" Then, with clasped hands; she exclaimed : " But, 0, father, sptn*n mc n'Otfor deceiving you; but pity your erring, suffering child ! I was mar? ried to him tho very morning he left lore for England; but ho has taken anoth? er .to his heart, and forsaken your poor jfNellio! Father in Heaven," she contin? ued, in a wildly vehement manner, '-did I deserve this? This hour of agonizing bitterness, methinks, should atone for" a life-time of sin! But I shall never sec him more! My brain burns?lam mad!" Here she sank down into a scat com? pletely exhausted with tho violence of her feelings. All the anxiety of the father was awakened; he tried to soothe her, and in a manner succeeded j But not a tear re? lieved that poor suffering .heart ; she he came strangely calm, and retired to her room. lie must bow see Richard Law, the author of all this misery. The result of that meeting is known but to the All seeing Eye! On his return, he sought Nellie's room, and entered. She lay on the sofa, appa? rently asleep. He stood for a moment, to contemplate her as she lay there, so still and motionless?the white rose that she had twined amid her beautiful, golden ringlets, not whiter than tho beautiful face that rested there, in such death-like repose. lie spoke her name; she did not an? swer. He approached and touched his lips to her forehead; it was cold. She was dead! A phial, from which had been taken a deadly poison, told the fade.? Weary?weary! she was tired of life, and her own hand had hastened its end. Mr. Haydn never recovered from the shock; but in two short weeks he slept in the church-yard, besides those he had loved in life. South Carolina Maids of tiik Olden Time.?The Selma Sentinel has exhumed the following curious petition, which, it says, whs signed by sixteen maids at Charleston, and presented to the Gover? nor of that Province on March 1st, 1733: To His Excellency Goo. Johnson: The humble petition of all maids whose names are underwritten : Whereas wo, the humble petitioners, are, at present, in a very melancholy dis? position of mind, considering how all the bachelors are captivated by widows, and our youthful charms arc thereby neglect? ed ; the consequence of this our request is, that your Excellency will, for the fu? ture, order that no widow shall presume to. marry any young man till the maids arc provided for; or else pay each of them a fine for satisfaction tor invading our liber ties; andlikcwiso a fine to be laid on all such bachelors as shall be married to wid? ows. The great disadvantage it is, to us, old maids, is that the widows, by their for? ward carriages, do snap up the young men, and have the vanity to think their merits beyond ours, which is a great im? position on us who have the preference. This is humbly recommended to your Excellency's consideration, and we hope you will prevent any further insults. Make the Best of It.?A determina? tion to make the best of evcrythijng is a wonderful smoother of difficulties which beset us in our passage through this pro? bationary scene. In Peter Pindar's story of the "Pilgrim and the Pests," two fel? lows upon whom the penance of walking to a certain shrine with peas in their shoes had been enjoined, are represented as having performed their tasks under very different circumstances and in very different moods. One of them having taken the precaution to sollen his peas by boiling thorn, tripped lightly and merrily over the ground ; the other, who had not "gumption" enough to turn his hard pel? lets into a poultice, by the same process, limped and howled all the way. It is pretty much the same in our pilgrimage through this "vale of tears." The impa? tient and imprudent travel on hard peas, the prudent and sagacious make them? selves easy in their shoes, and run cheer? fully the race that is set before them. An English writer says, in his advice to young married women, that their mother, Eve, " married a gardener, in consequence of his match, lost, his situation." Jeffersom as Student and Lover. During Mi*. Jefferson's law course of five years, he usually spent the summer months at homo, at Shadwcll, where the rest of the family continued to reside. The sys? tematic industry of his collegiate life con? tinued. Notwithstanding the time given to company, lie contrived to pass nearly twice' the usual number of hours of law students in his studies. He placed a clock in his bed room, and as soon as he could distinguish its hands in the gray of the ' summer morning, ho rose and commenced ' his labors. In winter, ho rose punctually at five. His hour of retiring in the sum? mer, in the country, was nine?in the winter at-tsn. At Shadwcll, his studies were very little interrupted by company. He usually took a gallop on horseback during the day. and at twilight walked to the top of Montieello. An hour or two given to the society of his family and the favorite violin, completed tbo list of inter? ruptions, and still left fourteen or fifteen hours ibr study and reading; "With Mr. Jefferson, the lover succeeded the schoolboy in the due and time-honor? ed order, as laid down the " melancholy Jaques." The only record of this affair is to be found in a series of letters ad? dressed by him to his friend John Page, commencing immediately after he left col? lege and extending, at intervals, through the two succeeding years. These arc to be found at length in the Congress edition of his works, and also in his life, by Pro? fessor Tucker. They possess some inter? est, perhaps, in relation to their subject matter, but most, as the early specimens of their author's epistolary writing which have been preserved. Though they dis? play something of that easy command of language?that "running pen"?for which he was afterwards so celebrated, they ex? hibit no peculiar grace or style, or matu? rity of thought. Perhaps, however, these would scarcely be expected in the careless, off-hand effusions of boyish intimacy. It causes a smile to see the future statesman '? sighing like a furnace " in a first love; concealing, after the approved fashion of student life, the name of his mistress un? der awkward Latin puns and Greek ana? grams, to bury a secret which the world, of course, was supposed to have a vast in? terest in discovering; delighted describing happy dances with his 1; Belinda " in the Apollo (that room of the Raleigh tavern where we shrill soon find him acting so different a part;) vowing the customary despairing vow, that "if Belinda will not accept his service, it shall never be of? fered to another;" and so on to the end of the chapter?in the well beaten track of immemorial prescription. The object of his attachment a .Miss Rebecca-Burwell (called Belinda, as a pet name, or by way of concealment.) whom tradition speaks as more distinguished for beauty than cleverness. His proposal seems to have been clogged with the condition that he must be absent for two or three years in foreign travel before marriage. He several times ex? presses this design, specifying England, Holland, France. Spain, Italy, Egypt, and a return through the northern British Provinces in America, as his proposed route. Why lie gave this up does not ap? pear. Whether lor this, or because her preferences lay in a different direction, Miss Burwoll somewhat abruptly married another man, in 1704. Mr. Jefferson was generally, however, rather a favorite with the other sex, and not without reason. His appearance was engaging. His face, though angular and far from beautiful, beamed with intelli? gence, with benevolence, and with the cheerful vivacity of a happy, hopeful spirit. His complexion was ruddy, and delicately fair; his reddish chesnut hair luxuriant and silken. His full, deep-set eyes, the prevailing color of which was a light hazel, (or flecks of hazel on a ground? work of gray,) were peculiarly expres? sive, and mirrored, as the clear lake mir? rors the cloud, the emotion which was passing through his mind. He stood six feet two and a half inches in hcighth, and though very slim at this period, his form was erect and sinewy, and his movements displayed elasticity and vigor. He was an expert musician, a fine dancer, a dashing rider, and there was no manly exercise in which he could not play well his part. His manners were usually graceful, but simple and cordial. His conversation already possessed no in? considerable fdiaro of thttt charm which, in after years, was so much extolled by friends, and to which enemies attributed so seductive an influence in moulding the young and the wavering to his political viows. There wns a frankness, earnest? ness, and cordiality in its tone?a deep sympathy with humanity?a confidence in man, and a sanguine hopefulness in tho destiny, which irresistibly won upon the feelings not only of the ordinary hearer, but of those grave men whose commerce with the world had led them to form less glowing estimates of it?such men as. the school-like Small, the sagacious Wyth?, the courtly and gifted Fauquier. Mr. Jefferson's temper was gentle, kind? ly, and forgiving. If it naturally had anything of that Warmth which is the usual concomitant of affections and sym? pathies so ardent, and it no doubt had, it had been subjugated by habitual control. Yet under its even placidity, there was not wanting those indications of calm self-reliance and courage which all in? stinctively recognise and re.sj>ect. There is not an instance on record of his having been engaged in a personal recontrc, or his having suffered a personal indignity. Possessing the accomplishments, he voided the vices, of the 3'oung Virginia gentry of the day, and a class of habits, which, if not vices themselves, were too often made tho preludes to them. He never gambled. To avoid importunities to games which were generally accompanied with betting, ho never learned to distinguish one card from another; he was moderate in the enjoyments of the table ; to strong drinks he had an aversion which rarely yielded to any circumstances; his mouth was un? polluted by oaths or tobacco! Though he speaks of enjoying " the victory of a favorite horse," and the "death of the fox," he never put but one horse in train? ing to run?never ran but a single race, and he very rarely joined in the pleasant excitement?he knew it to be too pleasant for tho aspiring student?of the chase. With such qualities of mind and charac? ter, with the favor of powerful friends and relatives, and even of vice-royalty to urge him onward, Mr. Jefferson was not a young man- to be lightly regarded by the young or old of either sex.?Randall's " Life of Thomas Jefferson." -+ The Lover's Text.?The lover has no conscience in his dealing! He gets his due and asks for it again! He is never paid! Something remains, or the coin is hardly to his mind ! He accepts it at one moment and rejects it at another?weighs it to the fraction of a grain, and still doubts whether it may not be' light! Rings it with such car as never a tuner of an instrument applied to a string! Scrutinizes mintage with an eye that mag? nifies a thousand fold ! and. after all, sus? pects, from sheer inability to trust Ids jeal? ous senses, or for the pleasure of imagin? ing default where he knows nono exists, that he may enjoy the reiteration of sweet though uncalled for warranty! The frank lips of the maiden have avowed it ; "a world," not only "sighs," but of tears, had affected it; at sudden times had her changing checks revealed the fitful mood ! and yet he wanted more ! more, even though it cost a pang! a pang, but unquestionably commiserated from the knowledge, not only, that it was without a cause, but that it was certain of being superseded by transport! "Defend us," some of our fair readers may exclaim, "from such a lover!" No lover that is not like him is worth a sigh. The thorn is the property of tho rose, as much as its blush and breath! They never live asunder. -o Neveu Tell too Much.?Dp not tell the learner too much about a subject, and puzzle him with many things, before he has understood the first principles; do not aim at being wonderfully profound in your first explanation, but reserve your pro? fundity for subsequent stages. Even ex? treme accuracy may be dispensed with at first; it is not wise to puzzle the learner with little niceties and refinements, when he is convulsively grasping at anything like an approximate idea of matter in hand. You will not mislead him by using or permitting an expression which is not quite technically accurate; the mistake will not fix itself upon his mind, for he is not giving his attention to that little point in which the inaccuracy lies; he is not yet able to appreciate nice distinctions and petty exceptions. The first thing is to give him a rough general idea of the sub? ject; and when he has mastered that, you may proceed to eidargc, refine, and dive deep. There arc some teachers who can? not hold their peace when occasion re? quires, but seem impelled by their nature to tell all they know upon every subject they touch upon; the consequence is. that the learner, being unable to discriminate between the essential and the non-essen? tial, is overwhelmed with the mass of learning, and instead of having a cleat idea of the main points, has an indistinct recollection of many things. How to Meet Slander.?A blacksmith having been slandered, was advised to ap? ply to the courts for redress. He replied, with true wisdom, " I shall never sue any? body for slander. I can go into my shop, and work out a better character in six I months than I could get in a court-house; ! in a year." There's A Better Home Above. Cease (Iiis sinful, vain repining? Life lias depth, imbued with joy; Blissful hours, where tainted sorrow Dares not drop her rlark alloy. Life, all pleasure, were not happy, For if only gladness reigned, Vi'c'd not know her boundless valut, So 'tis best that wc are naincd. When Decembers cold winds whistle, Some bright flowers still cheerful bloom, And from these, ye sad rcpiners, Learn to banish wintry gloom. Keep within yourhonrt imprisoned Flowers of hope that bloom aniPcIiecr? Flowers that shade the weeds jf sorrow, And may thrive without a (ear. Think when troubles thicken 'round you, What a bright reward have we? Heaven beyond, for those who suffer, All life's ills unmurm'ringly. There we gain a welcome haven, Where all pnin and grief are o'er, When the woes that bowed our spirits? Alljue gone, to come no more. Life is not the grand delusion Misanthropic men would tell, For if woe does lend her shadow, Joy, if tended, bloomcth well. Seek to disenthronc the sadncs3 Hovering on the hearts you love; Say that life has woe and blessing But to whisper of above! -o Success in Life, Benjamin Franklin attributed his suc? cess as a public man, not to his talents or his powers of speaking?for these -were but moderate?but to known integrity of character. "Henco it was," Jjo says, " that I had so much weight wffli my fel? low-citizens. I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I generally carried my point." Character creates confidence in men in high station as well as in humble life. It was said of the first Emperor Al? exander of ltussia, that his personal char? acter was equivalent to a constitution. During the wars of the Fronde, Montaigne was the onlv man among the French <;en try who kept his castle gates unbarred; and it was said of him, that his personal character was worth more to him than a regiment of horse. That character is power, is true in a much higher sense than that knowledge is power. Mind without heart, intelligence without con? duct, cleverness without goodness, are powers only for mischief. "Wc may be instructed or amused by them; but it is sometimes as difficult to admire them as it would be to admire the dexterity of a pick-pocket or the horsemanship of a highwayman. Truthfulness, integrity, and goodness?qualities that hang not on a man's breath?form the essence of man? ly character, or, as one of our old writers has it, " that inbred loyalty unto Virtue which can serve her without a livery." When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of his base assailants, and they ask? ed him in derision, t; Where is now your fortress?" " Here," was his bold reply, placing his hand upon his heart. It is in misfortune that the character of the up? right man shines forth with the greatest lustre; and when all else fails, he takes stand upon his integrity and his courage. The Bloom of Aoe.?A good woman never grows old. Years may pass over her head, but if benevolence- .and virtue dwell in the heart, she is as cheerful as when the spring of life lirst opened to her ' view. When we look upon a good wo? man, wc never think of her age; she looks as charming as when the rose of youth bloomed on her cheek. That rose has not faded yet?it Avili never fade. In her family she is the life and delight. In her neighborhood she is the friend and benefactor. In the church, the devout worshipper and the exemplary Christian. "Who does not respect and love the woman who has passed her days in acts of kind? ness and mercy?who has been the friend of man and God?whose whole lite has been a scene of kindness and love, a de? votion to truth and religion't We repeat, such a woman can never grow old. She will always be fresh and buoyant in spir? its, and active in deeds of mercy and be? nevolence. If the young lady desires to retain the bloom and beauty of youth, let her love truth and virtue; and t<> the close of life she will retain those feelings which now make life appear a garden of sweets ever fresh and ever new. Fearof Death.?William the Conquer? or, extremely alarmed on his death-bed, entreated the clergy to intercede for him. " Laden with many and grievous sins." he exclaimed. "I tremble; and being ready to be taken soon into the terrible examin? ation of God, I am ignorant what I should do. I have been brought up in feats of arms from my childhood; I am greatly polluted with effusion of much blood; 1 can by no means number the evils I have done the>e sixty-four year-, for which I am now constrained, without stay.to ren? der an account to the-just Judge.'' Robert Emmet and his Love. 'Twas tho evening of a lovely day? the last day of the noble and ill-fated Em? met. . A 3'oung girl stood at the castle gate and desired admittance into the dungeon. She was closely veiled, and tho keeper could not imagine who she was, nor that any one of such proud bearing should bo an humble suppliant at the prison door, llowcver, he granted the boon?led her to the dungeon, opened the massive iron door, then closed it again, and the lovers were alone. He was leaning against the wall with a downcast head, and his arms were folded upon his breast. Gently sho raised the veil from her face, and Emmet turned to gaite upon all that earth con? tained for him?the girl whose sunny brow in tho days of boyhood had been his polar star?the maiden who had some? times made him think the world was all sunshine. The clanking of the chains sounded like a death knell to her ears, and, she wept liko a child. Emmet said .but little, yet he pressed her warmly to his bosom, and their feelings held a silent meeting?such a meeting perchance as is held in Heaven only, when we part no more. In a low voice ho besought her not to forget him when the cold grave rc-? ccived his inanimate body?he spoke of bygone days?the happy hours of child? hood, when Iiis hopes were bright and glo? rious, and he concluded by requesting her her" sometimes to visit the places and scenes that were hallowed to bis memory from the days of his childhood, and though the world might pronounce his name with scorn and contempt, ho prayed she should still cling to him with affection, and re? member him when all others should for? get. Hark! the Church bell sounded and he remembered tho hour of execution. The turnkey entered, and after dashing the tears from his eyes he soparated them from their long embrace, and led the la? dy from the dungeon. At the cntraneo she turned and their eyes met?they could not say farewell! The door swung upon its heavy hinges and they parted for? ever. No! not forever! is there .-r?t-ar^ Heaven ? At sunrise next morning he suffered gloriously; a martyr to his country and to liberty. And one?o'er <hc myrtle showers, Its leaves by sofi. winds fanned, She faded 'midst Italian flowers? The last of their fair land. 'Twas in the land of Italy; it was tho gorgeous time of sunset in Italy; what a magnificent scene. A pale, emaciated girl lay upon the bed of death. Oh it was hard for her to die far from home in this beautiful land where flowers bloom pcren ial, and the balmy air comes freshly to the pining soul. Oh! no; her star had set; the brightness of her dream had fa? ded ; her heart was broken. When ties have been formed on earth, close burning ties. what is more heart rending and ag? onizing to the spirit, than to find at last, the beloved one is snatched away, and all our love given to a passing floweret." Enough; she died the betrothed of Rob? ert Emmet; the lovely Sarah Curran. Italy contains her last remains; its flow? ers breathe their fragrance over her grave, and the lulling notes of the shep? herd's lute sound a requiem to her mem? ory. -? Educating Without the Birch.?Hon. Timothy Edwards, the son of President*"'' Edwards, and the foster-father^ef 'Aaron Burr and Pierpont Ed\vsrfldv is reported to have said, "I have brought up and ed? ucated fourteen boys, two of whom I brought, or rather thoyjp^^ up, without the birch. One of these was Pierpont Edwards, my youngest brother; tho oth? er, Aaron Bun*, my sister's son. I tell you, sir," he added, "maple-sugar govern? ment will never answer; and beware how you let the first act of disobedience in these little boys go unnoticed; and unless evidence of repentance be manifested, un? punished." It is well known that this li maple-sugar government." of these two subjects on which it was tried, made two of the worst men of tho past age, Burr and Pierpont Eil wards. "He that spar eth the rod. bateth his son." This pre? cept requires always to stand side by side with the direction of an apostle. - Ye fath? ers, provoke not your children to wrath, bnl bring them up in the nurture and ad? monition of the Lord." Old Almanacs as Good as New.?By a strange coincidence, which will not again occur tor a long time, the year 185.) com? menced on the samcdayas 1840, and con? sequently all through the year the date was on the same day. But what is more singular is. that all the movable holidays, from Septusigesima to Advent, fell on the same dates, and on rlie same days. The same almanacs of 184'J might, therefore, .i.M'vol lot' 1 ?5C>.