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VOL. I. ®!)c Georgia tUceklj), DEVOTED TO Literature, and General Information, WM. HENRY PECIC, . •Editor and Proprietor. £V"4IMHKD EVERY WEDNESDAY, BY PECK &_E INE S . TERMS, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE : One copy, per iinnnm., $2.00 Single copiv#,.*. 6 cents. JJQyAdvcr isepients inserted nt $1 a square of 12 lines, for one insertion, and BO cents for eaeli subsequent insertion. A liberal deduction made to dtnee whoadvertise by Ihe year. . .THE SEAMSTRESS. * * '** BT 11. E 3. Alone in my gsuret T sit, My 1* if lit fa-t fl ckerinp away; liv work is unfinished y*-f.— I've been siitvhit.g, stiubing all day. Stitehingr, sMtchintr. ’till my eves Are dimmed bv the tears ih.it flow; My-fingers are weary, pain flies Through my limbs—still I must sew. Who cures for me—(stitehing nil day— For a pittance niugardh- small,) If each stitch my fingers I flay, My heart’s blood st tin the i bread and the pall. All A*y ’till night comes—stitch,stitch, stitch— The flume to-morrow —forever— Mv life's blood doth others enrich, Till the thread of my life doth sever. In my garret, weary and sad. V glhnm-r of fve in iky grate. I must work, work, if I go mad— I must stitch, stitch, «xrly and late. Stitch on—we are slaves to ihe rich ; They ihink we are made but to toil; Could they hear us sigh with each stitch, I thiuk their hard hearts would recoil. Oh ! why should society frown On 'hose who-e position it makes, And strive aspirations io drown 'Till me heart in solitude breaks. [From New Orleans Mirror ] HORROR-A TRUE TALE. I was bat nineteen years of age when the inciilent occurred which has thrown a shadow over my life; and all, me! how many and many a weary year has dragged by singe lion! Young happy and beloved. I was in those long-departed days. They said that I was beautiful. The mirror uow mmvn Ashen lips, aud face of deadly pallor. I will try and relate, exactly as it happened, the event which blighted my life. But as I take the pen, my hand trembles, my head swims, the old rushing faintness and horror comes over me again, and the well remem bered tea- is upon me. This, briefly, is tnv story: I was a great heiress, I believe, though I eared little for the fact, hut so it was. My father had great possessions, and no son to inher it after him. His three daughters, of whom I was the youngest, • were to share the broad acres. I have said, and truly, that I eared little for this circumstance; anti indeed, I was so rich then in health and youth and love, that I felt myself quire indiffer ent to all else. The possession of all the treasures of earth could never have made up for what I then had— and lost as I atn about to relate. Os course, we girls knew we were heiress- j es, but I do not think Lucy and Min- ! nie were any the prouder or the hap- ! pier on that account. I know I was not. Reginald did not court me for . my money. Os that I felt assured, lie proved it, heaven be praised ! when lie shrank from my side after the | change. Y r es, in all my lonely age, I 'can still be thankful that he did not; keep his word, as some would have done, diil not clasp at the altar a hand . Le had learned to loathe and shudder .’at, because it was full of gold—much gold ! At least, he spared me that An/1 know that I was loved, and the knowledge has kept tne from going mad through many a weary day and restless night, wljen my hot eyeballs had not a tear to- shed, and even to weep was a luxury denied me. Our house was an old Tudor mansion. It was a superstitious atmosphere we children were reared in, and we heard from our infancy, countless tales of horror, some mere Fables doubtless, other legends of dark deeds of the olden times, exagerated by credulity and the love of the marvellous. Our mother had died when we were young, ami our other parent being, though a kind father, much absorbed in affairs of various kinds, as an active magis trate and landlord, there was no one te cheek the unwholesome stream of tradition with which our plastic minds were-inundated in the company of .nurses and servants. • It was at a county assembly that Reginald and I first met —met and loved. Yes, I ant that he loved me with all his heart. It was not as deep a heart as some, I have thought in my grief and anger : but I never doubted its truth and honesty. Reginald’s father and mine approved of our growing attach ment; and as for myself, I know I was so happy then, that I look back upon thoso fleeting moments as on some delicious dream. I now come f<r JMjjtfrt ttefe, SRBs, hm General fnftaifion. to the change. It was Christmas, al ways a joyful and a hospitable time in the country, especially in such an old hall as our home, weere quaint cus toms and frolics were much clung to, as part and paicel of the very dwel ling itself. The hall was full of guests—so full, indeed, that there was great difficulty in providing sleeping accommodations for all. At last the unexpected arrival of an | elderly relative, who had been asked months before, but scarcely exported, j caused great commotion. ~My aunts went abofft wringing their hands dis tractedly. Lady Spebtlrtirst was a ! personage of some "consequence ; she; was a distant cousin, and had been for years on cool terms with us all, on ac- | count of some fancied affront or slight : when she had paid her last visit, about t the time of my christening, She was seventy years old ; infirm, rich and testy ; moreover, she was my grand- \ mother, though I had forgotten the fact, but it seems that though I had j formed no expectations of a legacy in ; my favor, my aunts had done so for me. The matter ended in my giving up my room. I had a strange reluc tance to making the offer, which sur prised myself. Was it a boding of evil to come ? I cannotrsay. It may have been. At any rate, I do not think it was any selfish unwillingness to make an old and infirm lady com fortable by a trifling sacrifice. The chamber to which I removed was a dim little tn’arigular'foom in the West ern wing, and was only to be reached by traversing the picture-gallery or by mounting a litt-io flight of stone stairs w hich led directly upwards from the low-browed areh of a door that opened into the garden. There "as one more room oh the same landing place, and this was a mere receptacle for broken furniture,--shattered jnys,», and all the lumber that will accumu late in a country house, 'ihe room I, was to inhabit for a few days was if tapestry-hung apartment, with failed green curtains of some costly., stuff'. contrasting Oddly with anew carpet : and the bright fresh hangings of the The furniture was halfoM,,FisTTncw uhd 'on the 'dressing table stood a very quaint oval mirror, in a frame of black wood—unpolished ebony, I think. I can remember the very pat ern of the carpet, the number of ( chairs, the situation of the bed, the figures on the tappestry. Nay, J can recollect not duty the color of the dress I wore ori that fatal evening, hut the arrangement of every scrap of lace and ribbon, of every flower, every jewel, with a memory but too perfect. Scafftely had my maid finished spread ing out my various articles of attire for the evening (when there was to be a great dinner-party,) when the rum ble of a carriage announced that Lady Speldhurst had arrived. The short winter day drew to a close,-and a large number of guests gathered to gether in the ample drawing room, around the blaze of the wood fire, af ter dinner. Need I say that Reginald was there? He sat near me—my ac cepted lover, my plighted future hus band. We were to be married in the spring. My sisters were not far off; . they, too, had found eyes that spark led and softened in meeting theirs, had found hearts that beat responsive to their own. And, in their cases, no rude'frost hipped the blossom ere it ; became the fruit; there was no can ker in their flowerets of young hope, jno cloud in their sky. Innocent and | loving, they were beloved by men worthy their esteem. I remember still how- tall and man ly and handsome Reginald looked that night, taller by the head than any there, ami full of high spirits and gaiety. I too, was in the highest spirits; never had my bosom felt lighter, and I believe it was my mirth which gradually gained the rest, for I recollect what a blithe, joyous compa ny we seemed. All save one. Lady Speldhurst, dressed in grey silk and wearing a quaint head-dress, sat in her armchair, facing the fire, very si lent, with her hands and her sharp chin propped on a sort of ivory-handled crutch peering at me with half-shut eyes. She was a little spare old wo rn.in, with very keen delicate features of the French type. Her grey silk dress, her spotless lace, old fashioned i jewels, and prim neatness of array, were well suited to the intelligence of her face, with its thin lips, and eyes of a piercing biack, undimmed by age. Those eyes made me uncomfortable, in spite of my gaiety, as they follow ed my very movement with curious scrutiny. Still I was very merry and gay; my sisters even wondered at my ever-ready mirth, which was al most wihl in its excess. I have heard since then of the Scottish belief that those doomed to some great calamity become fey, and are never so disposed for merriment and laughter as just before the blow falls. If ever mortal GREENVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 6, 1861. was fey, then, I was so on that evening Still, though I 9trove to shake it off, the pertinacious observation of old Ludy Speldhurst’s eyes did make an impression on me of a vaguely disa greeable nature. Others, too, po ticed her scrutiny of me, but set it down as a mere eccentricity of a per son always reputed whimsical, to say the least of it. | However, this disagreeable sensa | tion lasted but a few moments. Af- { ter a short pause my aunt took her l part in the conversation, and we found j ourselves listening, to a weird legend [which the ohl fady told exceedingly j well. One tale led to another. Ev j erv one was called on in turn to con- I tribute to the public entertainment, ' and story after story, always relating ! to demonology and witchcraft, succeed ed. Before we had made an end of this talk, my father and the other squires catne in, and we ceased our ghost stories, ashamed to speak of such matters before these new comers' —hard headed, unimaginative, • men, who hail no sympathy with idle le gends. There was now a stir and hustle. Servants wsre handing round tea apd coffee, and other refreshments.— Then there was a little music and sing ing. I sang a duet with 'Reginald, who had a fine voice and good musical skill. I remember that my singing was milch praised, and indeed I was surprised at the power and pathos of my own voice, doubtless due to my ex cited ncives and mind. Then I heard someone say to another that I washy far the cleverest of the Squire’s daughters, daughters, as well as the prettiest. It did not make nie vain. I had no rivalry t»jtli Lucy and Min nie. But Reginald whispered some soft fond words iff my bar, u little be fore he mounted his horse' to set off .hotul wai-ds-, which didf make toe happy and pioiid. And to think that the next time u'e me:— but I forgave him long ago. INior Uegjnald ! Ajul lioty shawls and cloaks were in request, aud 'carriages rolled up to the porch, and j the guests gradually departed- At last no one was hut those visitors ’trTTotiaiT'TieTni ca I led out to speak with the bailiff of the estapfe e-yme hack tyth a look of .-aunoya i’age’. “A strange story I ha?b just been told,”, said he, “ here has been my bailiff to inform me of the loss of. four of the choicest ewes out of that; little flv.ck of Southdowns I set such store by,' and .Which arrived in the North buv'two months since. And the poor creatures ha ve been destroyed in so strange a manner, for their car casses are horribly mangled,” Many were the ejaculations o's wonder and alarm, and many Bndjshrewn the con- ! jectuies, but none seemed exactly to suit the hearings of the case. And when my father went on to say that two lambs of the same valuable breed had perished in the same singular manner three days previously,•and that they also were found mangled and gore-stained, the amazement reached a higher pitch, Old Lady Speldhurst listened with calm intelligent atten tion, but joined in none of our excla mations. One by one the guests dropped off. I was the member of the family se lected to escort old Lady Speldhurst to her room—the room I had vacated in her favor. I did not much like the office. I felt a remarkable repugnance to my god-mother. “ Where have they put you, child ?” she asked, “ in some cockloft of the turrets, eh ? or in a lumber-room—a regular ghost trap ? I can hear your heart beating with fear this moment. You are not fit to be alone.” I tried to call up my pride, and laugh off the accusa tion against my courage, all the more, perhaps, because I felt its truth.— “Do you want anything more that I can do for you, Lady Speldhurst?” I asked old dame’s keen eyes upon me. “I rather like you. my dear,” she said, “ and I liked your mamma well enough before she treated me so shamefully about the christening din ner. Now I know you are frightened and fearful, and if an o«l should hut flap your window to-night, it might drive you into fits. There is a nice little sofa-bed in this dressing-closet— Call your maid to arrange it for you, and you can sleep there snugly, under the old witch’s protection, and then no goblin dare harm you, and nobody will he a hit the wiser, or quiz you for be ing afraid. I declined, with an af fected laugh, and she said, in a thought ful, half abstracted manner, “ Well, well ! we must all take our own way through life.' Good night child — pleasant dreams!” And 1 softly closed the door. As I mossed the landing a bright gleam came from an other room, whose door was left ajar; I it (the light) fell like a bar of golden sheen across my path. As I approach ed the door opened, and ioy sister Lu cy, who had been w*tch,ng ; for nte, i came out. She was already in a white cashmere wrapper, over which her loosetted hair hung darkly and heavi ly, like tanglSs cf silk. “ Rosa love,” she whispered, “ Minnie, and I can’t bear the idea of your sleeping out there, all alone, in that solitary room —the very room, too, nurse Sherrard used to talk about! So as you know Minnie has given up her room, and come to sleep in mine, still we should so wish you to stop with us to-night, at any rate, and I could make up a Ltd on the sofa, for myself, or you— apd——” I stopped Lucy’s mouth isa. I declined her offer atul w*uH not listen to it. Yet, as I look ed back into the dark corridor, and saw the friendly door still ajar, the ytHlow bar of light still crossing from wall to wall, the sweet kind face still pigling after me from amid its clus tering curls, J felt a thrill of sympa thy, a wish to return, a yearning after 'hitman- love ’ and companionship.— .False-shame Seas strongest, and con quered.* t .Ifr’atiefd a gay adieu. I turned .the corner and peeping over my shoulder., 1 saw the duor close ; the Uar ©!' yellow fight was there no •longer in thS the tiSi kness of the pas sage. I thought? at that instant, that I heard «t heavy sigh. I looked sharply round. No'one was there.— Nb door was open, yet I fancied, and fancied with wonderful vividness, that -Lflid In-nr :rtt actual sigh breathed not fir off, and plainly distinguishable from t lie groan of the sycamore brunc.lics, as the wind tossed them to and fro in the ouier blackness. I had to go through the picture gallery. I had never entered this apariment by candle-light before, and 1 was st tuck by ihe gloomy array -of the tall poi traits, gazing moodily from the canvass on the lozenge-p ined or painted windows, which rattled to the blast as it swept howling by.— MatlV l)f the faces looked stern, and very different Goto their day-light ex pression. In others a fut live, flicker ing sin le seemed to mock ting 1 even laughed as I confronted them. No echo had my short-lived laughter but from the hollow armor and arching ruof, and I condoned un uiy way ju loWPed, Fheie was a sie collection of plate, and mail, for my father was an enthusiastic antiquary. In especial there were two suits of black ainwr, erect, and surmounted by helmets with closed visors, which stood as if two mailed champions were guarding the gallery-and its treasures. 1 had often seen these, of course, but never by night, and never when my whole organization was so overwrought and tremulous as it then was. As I- ap proached the Black Knights, as we liad dubbed them, a wild notion spized on me that the figures moved; that men were concealed' in the hollow shells which had once been borne in battle and tourney. As I entered my chamber, I thought I heard something stir in the neglected dumber room, wdiich was the only neighboring apart- | rrkmt.“ - 'But I determined to have no ; more panics, and resolutely shut my Oars t-o this slight and transient noise, ; which had nothing unnatural in it ; j for surely, between rats and wind, an old maaiu-house on a stormy night needs bo sprites to disturb it. So I entered - iny room, and rang for my maid.. As I did so, I looked around, me, an'd a most unaccountable repug- ' nance to my temporary abode catne over me, in spite of my efforts. My ! maid entered, and assisted me to lay aside the dress and ornaments I had worn, and arranged my hair as usual. At last, she had done all that could be done, and all my questions were answered, and iny orders for the mor row reiterated and vowed obedience to ' and «Jyck on the turret struck one. The slidning of the door, .gently as it was. closed, affected me unpleasantly. ' I took a dislike to the curtains, the tapestry, the dingy pictures—every thing. I hated the room. I felt a temptation to put on a cloak, run, luilt-dressed, to my sister’s chamber, 1 and say I had changed my mind, anil come for shelter. But they must be asleep, I thought, and I could not be so unkind as to wake them. 1 said mv prayers with unusual earnestness ami a heavy heart. 1 extinguished the j candles, and was just about to lay mv head on mv pillow when the idea [ seized me that I would fasten the door. ! The candles were extinguished, hut the life-light was amply sufficient to guide me- I gained the duor. There was a lock, but it was rusty or hampered ; my tittlfflil strength could not turn the key. The holt was broken and worth less. . Baulked of uiy intention, I consoled myself by remembering that I had never had need of fastenings yet, and returned to my bed. I lay awake for a good while, watching the red glow of the burning coals in the grate. I was on the point of drop ping asleep, when I was twice dis turbed. Once, by an owl, hooting in the ivy outside —no unaccustomed sound, but harsh aud melancholy ; 1 once by a long and mournful howling set up by the mastiff, chained in the yard beyond the wing I occupied.— A long drawn, lugubrious howling, was this latter, and much such a note as the vulgar declare to herald a death in the family. This was a fancy I had never shared ; but yet I could not help feeling that the dog’s mournful | moans were sad, and expressive of ter ror, not at all like his fierce, honest bark of anger, but rather as if some thing evil and unwonted were abroad. But Boon I fell asleep. How long I slept, I knew not, I awpke at .once with that abrupt start which we all know well, and which carries us in a second after unconsciousness to the full use of our faculties. The fire was still burning, but was very low, and.half the room or more Was in deep shadow. I knew, I .felt, that some person or thing wasirj.tha room, although nothing juuwvui'-waß to be seen by the feeble light. Yet it was a sense of danger that had' aroused me from slumber. I experienced, while yet asleep, the chiil and shock of sudden alarm, and I knew, even in the act of throwing oft .sU-ep like a manile, why lyi’wjd>e, and that scorn intruder was present. Y'et, though I listened intently v no spinal was audi ble, exept the faint murmur of the fire —the dropping of a cinder from the ba’r*—the loud- irregular heatings of mv own heart. Net withstand ing ibis silence, by some intuition 1 knew that I had not been deceived'by a dream, and felt certain that I was nut alone. I Waited. My heart beat on ; quick er, more sudden grew its pulsations, us a bird in a eugti might flutter in presence of the hawk. And then I heard and sound, faint, but quite distinct, the clank of iron, the rattling of a chain ! I ventured to lift mv head from the pillow. Dim and uncertain as the light was, 1 saw the curtains of my bed shake, atul 'caught a gliuqise of something beyond, a duiker spot in the darkness. The confirmation of my tears did not surprise the so much as it shocked me. Throve to cry aloud, but could unt utter a word.— The chain rattled agam, bjAfchthlSMi l ( r <Te t- STol ’SetH'WT mtt though I strained my eyes, they could not pentrate the obscurity that shrouded the other end of the cham ber, whence came the sullen clanking. In a moment several distinct trains of thought, like many-colored strands of. thread twining into one, became pal pable to my mental vision. Was it a robber ? could it be a supernatural visitant ? or was I the victim of a ! cruel trick, such as I had heard of, j and which some thoughtless persons love to practice on the timid, reckless j of its dangerous results ? And then a | new idea, with some ray of comfort in | it, suggested itself. There was s fine young dog of the Newfoundland breed, a favorite of my father’s, which was usually chained by night in an out house. Neptune might have broken loose, found his way to my room, and, finding the door imperfectly closed, have pushed it open and entered. I breathed more freely as this harmless interpretation of the noise forced .it self upon me. It was—it must be— the dog, and I was distressing myself uselessly. I resolved to call to lhtn ; I strove to utter his name—“ Neptune, Neptune !” but a secret apprehension ! restrained me, and I was mute. Then the chain clanked nearer and nearer to the bed, and presently I saw a dusky shapeless mass appear between the curtains on the opposite side to where I was lying. How I longed to hear the whine of the pooranitnal that I hoped might be the cause of my alarm. But no; I heard no sontul | save the rustle of the curtains and the clash of the iron chain. Just then the dying flame of the fire leap 1 ed up, and with one sweeping hurried glance I saw that the door "as shut, and. honor! it is the semblance of a human form that now throws itself heavily on the bed, outside the clothes and lies there, huge ami swart, in the red gleam that treacherously dies away after showing so much to af- [ fl ight and sinks into dull and rkness ! I tried to speak, to scream wildly for help; my mouth was parched, my tongue refused to obey. I could not u ter aerv, and indeed, win* could ; have heard tne, alone as I was in that. ; solitary chamber, with no living neigh bor, and the pieiure-galh-ry between me and any aid that even the loudest, most piercing shriek could summon. And yet, in the extremity of tuy fear, 1 dared not speak ; I was strangely cautious to be sitenf, even in moving farther off; for I had a wild hope that it—the phantom, the creature, whatever it was—had not discovered my presence in the room. My heart labored as if crushed beneath some vast weight. Sometimes it appeared to stop its frenzied beatirrgs, some times its failsatioTis were fierce and ! Lurried; my breath came short ©ml with exit-cine difficulty, and I shiver ed as if with cold; yet I feared to stir. It moved, it moaned, its fetters clanked dismally, the couch creaked and shook. Tin's was no phantom then—no air-drawn spectre. But its very solidity, its palpable presence, were a thousand times more terrible. I felt that I was in the very grasp of what could not only affright, hut harm ; of something whose contact sickened the soul with deathly fear. I made a 'desperate resolve: I glided from the bed, I seized a warm wrapper, threw it around tne, and tried to grope, with extended hands, my wav to the door. My heart heat high at the hope of es cape. But I bid scarcely taken one step, before the moaning was renewed it changed into a threatening growl that would havesuiteda wolf’s throat, -and a hand clutched at my sleeve. I stood motionless. The muttering growl sank to a moan again, the chain sounded no more, but still the hand liel*l_ its gripe of my garment and I feared to move. It knew of my pres ence, then. My brain reeled, the blood boiled in ears, and my knees Install strength, while my heart panted like that of a deer in the Wolfs j iws. I sank hack, and the benumbing in fluence of excessive terror reduced tne to a state of stupor. When my full consciousness returned, I was sit ting on the edge of the bed, shiver ing with cold, atul barefooted. All was silent, but 1 felt that my sleeve was still clutched by my unearthly vis ir.-int. The silence lasted a long time. Then followed a chuckling langh; that froze iny very marrow, and ihe gnashsing of teeth as in demoniac frenzy; and then a wailifig moan, and this was succeeded by silence. Would it never be light! And yet, when day should dawn, I should be forced tostc it face to face. I h»d heard that spectre and fiend were compelled to fade as morning hi ightened, but this creature was too real, too foul a thing of earth, to vanish at cock crow. No, I should see it—the honor—face to face ! And then the cold prevailed, and my teeth chattered, and shiver ing ran through me, and yet there was the damp of agony on piy burst- a chair within reach, and wrap it round me. The moan was renewed and the chain just stirred. Then I sank into apathy, like an Indian at the stake, in the intervals of torture. Hours fled by, and I remained like a statue of ice, rigid and mute. I even slept, fori remember that I started to find the cold grey light of an early I winter’s day was on my face, and j stealing round the room from between the heavy curtains of the window.— j Shuddering hut urged by the impulse I that rivets the gaze of the bird upon the snake, I turned to see the horror of the night. Yes, it was no fevered dream, no hallucination of sickness, no airy phantom unable to face the dawn. In the sickly light I saw it lying on the bed, with its grim head on the pillow. A man ? Or a corpse arisen from its unhallowed grave, and awaiting the demon that animated it? There it lay—a gaunt, gigantic form, wasted to a skeleton, half clad, foul with dust and clotted gore, its huge limbs flung upon the coucii as if at random, its shaggy hair streaming over the pillows like a lion’s mane.— Its face was towards me. Oh, the wild hideousness of that face, even in sleep!- In features it was human, even through its horrid mask of mud, and half-dried bloody gouts, but the expression was brutish and savagely fierce; the white teeth were visible bet wen the parted lips, in a malignant grin ; the tangled hair and heard were mixed in leonine confusion, and there were scars disfiguring the brow. Round the creature’s wrist was a ring of iron, to which was attached a heavy but broken chain—the chain I heard claw-king. With a second glance I noticed that part of the chain was wrapped in straw, to prevent its gal ling the wearer. The creature —I cannot call it a man—bad tlie marks of fetters on its wrists, the Itony arm that protruded through one tattered I sleeve was scarred and bruised; the feet were bare, and lacerated by peb bles and briers, and one of them was wounded, and wrapped in a morsel of rag. And the lean hands, one of which held my sleeve, were armed with talons like an eagle’s. In an instant the horrid truth flashed upon me—l was in the grasp of a madman. Bet ter the phantom that scales the sight than the wild beast that tends and tears the quivering flesh —the pitiless human brut* that has no heart to bo softened, no reason at whose bar to plead, no compassion, nought of man save the form and the tunning. I gasped in terror. Ah! the mystery of those ensanguined finders, those gory wolfish jaws ! that face, all be smeared with blackening blood, is re vealed ? The slain sheep, so mangled and fsffl'fftic,,, lotHd eiv tKe print of tKe naked foot—all, all were NO. 5.