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useful to refer to, but it ceased to at tract attention. Still, Charlie kept it up, till, by and bye, the book played its part in a feartul tragedy. Somethiug was going wrong at the store, of that Charlie was positive, but when or how he could, not tell. Only this he knew, that where there shouhl have been ten bales of cloves things were in a similar deficiency. _ The first time it occurred, he said nothing—it was barely possible some of the bales might have been opened without his knowledge ; but on its re petion he at once reported it to Mr. Walton. , “Are you sure, Charlie? asked Mr. Walton, “fluite sure? Because this is-a sorious matter. “Quite sure, Mr. Walton, said Charlie, calmly. “ I have examined the sales book, and the smaller pack ages on hand, till I am certain I am correct.” “ What does Jones say ? asked Mr. Walton. “ Does he suspect any one ?” . “ lie is as much at fault as 1 am sir. There isn’t a man on the premises I wouldn’t trust with untold gold. “ When did this occur? Saturday, ,did you say ?” u I missed it on Monday morning, first, a week ago, and again to-day, said Charlie promptly. “Well, well,” said Mr, Walton, “ keep quiet about itj. Can you make some excuse to your mother to be ab sent next Saturday night? Charlie looked blank. He could not guess what kind of an excuse his mother would take, or he invent. “ Stay,” said Mr. W alton, “111 manage it. I will call and tell hei you are going to spend the night with me. Will that do?” and he smiled as he saw Charlie’s perplexity fading away. “Tell Jones to be cautious, and say nothing, continued Mr. W alton.- “ Next'Saturday night you and I will keep watch here and try to ferret the thing out.” The week slipped away, and Satuv day night found Mr. Walton and Charlie hidden behind a pile of bags, with only a dark lantern lor company. There are many pleasanter things than such a watch, I can tell you. — The goods seem to be all alive, and creak as they settle down, as if the walls were going to tumble, and the rats hold a" grand carnival. Shy, cunning creatures, they never show themselves in the day; but at night they run, jump, squeak and gibber to their heart’s content. Charlie and Mr. W T alton too, for that matter, took a lesson in rat life that night which opened their eyes, dark as it was. After long waiting, they heard a fumbling at the lock of the front door, and presently it was opened and a heavy foot ascended the stairs. Charlie’s heart beat very fast as the man approached nearer and nearer, but Mr. Walton drew him further back, being anxious to surprise the fellow at his work. It happened, however, that Mr. Walton sneezed —the pepper did that and he couldn’t help it—a good loud hearty sneeze, that rung through the store. There was no mistaking it, and the thief looked round hastily, turning to go the stairs. Finding further concealment useless, they stepped out from their hiding place, and flashing the light from the lantern right in the intruder’s face blocked up the only way of escape. That single gleam was enough to show who he was, and both recognized a man formerly in the position of an under porter for a short time, who must have retained possession of a key, or taken an impression of one before he left. The fellow saw he was pinned.— Fight was not use for they were two to one, and both resolute men. As he came up, he had opened the hatch ways, the more easily to remove his booty, and in his desperation he turned towards that. ' * Mr. Walton saw'hi's plann in a mo ment, but too late to prevent it. He hastened forward, when the man gave a spring for the rope, missed-it, while his face caught on the hook. The re sistance soon gave way, there was an agShiking scream, a tearing of mus cles, a swift oleaving of the air, and a heavy body, mangled and lifeless, struck with a “ thud” on the ground floor, that sent a thrill of horror through the watchers’ hearts. They hurried down stairs, but life was gone ! and so disfigured was the body that but for the one flash of light that lit up the features of the desperate man, none could have guessed who it was met that terrible death in the path of his sin. The police were called, and the corpse given into their hands; and the two, drawn closer together for this fearful adaenture, silent and sick at heart, full of pity for which there was no exercise, went home to Mr. Wal ton’s house. IV. . New Year’s Day had come again. Charlie had been with Mr. Walton six years, and was now but a few months past twenty-one years old. There was something more than or dinary going on, for Mrs. Raymond was all smiles, and Nell, with curls still, only the ringlets are longer and darker than we first saw, was looking very happy, and Charlie looked as if he were quite satisfied. Presently Mr. Walton came in, and there' was such a hand-sfiaking and hearty greeting. Nell kissed him, aqd called him a “dear good man,” and he didn’t seem to mind it, though he threatened to tell Mrs. Walton. Mrs. Raymond could hardly speak, and when she did there were tears in her voice as well as in her eyes. — What can it be all about ? “It is all right, Charlie,” said Mr, Walton. “ I believe so,” said Charlie, hesi tating. “Tut, tut,-my boy. Let me see the paper, I’ll be bound you’ve got it in your pocket,” he said, banter ingly. Charlie blushed, and, sure enough, it was in nis pocket, so out it had to come. And while Mr. Walton is read ing suppose I peep over his shoulder and see what all this good humor is about. Stop ! can I believe my eyes ? Mr. Walton taken Charlie Raymond in as partner! There it is in black and white, and now we can understand why every one who makes a New Year’s call on Mrs. Raymond that day, shakes her hand so heartily. Our story is done. If any one asks vmc what it was that carried him up to the top of the ladder, I shall tell him it was “ pluck”—doing what was right and never being ashamed of it. Some, perhaps, may grumble be cause I stop right here? “ Why don’t you tell us how Mr.' Walton not only took him into partnership, but gave him his daughter for a wife, and all that sort of thing?” Because, my dear little inquisitor, he did not do any such thiug. For, first, Mr. Walton has no daughter— there, don’t look disappointed—and if he had, Charlie couldn’t marry her without asking a young lady’s consent, who lives a few blocks off, and I don’t think she would say yes—because— mind it’s a secret between us, reader —because she wants him herself. “ Where does he live ?” “ Where’s his store ?’' “ What’s his real name ?” —mercy, what a hubbub of ques tions ! Never mind about that. When you are out on New Year’s Day, and see a fine young fellow, with a good honest face, and look about him as if there was something in him, calling at a house where there is a pretty young lady, who is just as good as she is pretty, and quite as sensible as she is good, I dare say that may be Charlie Raymond. That is the nearest I can conic to telling you ; but I think you had not better speak to him without an introduction—’twould look odd, you know. But I tell you all, boys, what we can do—imitate his “ pluck.” BENj-AMED’S LION EXPLOITS. The son of a shiek of a brave and warlike tribe, a beardless youth of eighteen, became enamored of the daughter of a slack of a neighboring tribe, a young girl of rare beauty and accomplishments. Ben-Amed the son, asked for Aichella, the daughter, in marriage. “ Young man,” answered the shiek, Zou-Araf, “ you come of a brave stock and are reputed worthy to be the son of a Shiek El-Hamount. So far well. Gut I have made a vow that my daughter should wed none but a brave man, who has proved his courage.— You are a youth as yet unknown to fame. Prove yourself brave and wor thy of some signal deed, and my beautiful Aichella, the pride of my heart, is yours.” . “Yourself shall name the deed!” returned young Ben-Amed, lifting his head proudly. “It is well!” rejoined Zou-Araf “ A lion from yonder mountain, every night, takes his pick from my herd ; let him fall by your hand, and his meat shall serve us for the wedding feast.” When he heard these words, the dusky features of Ben-Amed slightly blanched. He Would have gone proudly into battle, or would have set out alone in the dead of night, to plunge his bright yatagan to the heart of any given member of any* given tribe ; but the idea of encountering the dread lion sent a shiver of fear through his young frame. The old chief saw the effect 9? his words, and a slight smile’ of scorn curled his proud lips. From that moment the heart of the young man became strong; his resolution was taken. “I will do it!” he said, firmly to the surprise of the shiek, who was ex pecting a different answer. “ God helping, I will slay and feast upon this Forest King.” “ Brave youth !” exclaimed the shiek, suddenly changing his smile of scorn to a look of admiration. “ And know, Ben-Amed, I do not require you to combat alone this terrible beast; I only require that it shall be you who stands forth before your com panions and fires the first shot; that will be proof sufficient of your cour age.” We would remark here in explana tion, that it is the custom of the Arabs in order to draw the lion, who will hesitate to attack numbers, from his retreat, for one of the bravest of the band to advance alone in front of the others, and give the first shot, which, if not fatal—as it seldom is—will gen erally cost the life of the daring as sailant —the lion springing upon him with a terrific roar the instant he feels himself wounded. To jthe perfect amazement of Shiek Zou-Araf, Ben-Amed replied: “ Father of the lovely Aichella, I go alpne. Either I bring you word THE GEORGIA WEEKLY. that the lion of the mountain is slain by my singlo hand, or mortal man shall never look again upon the son of Shiek El-llamount. Farewell!” In vain the old Arab chief tried to dissuade the courageous youth from a venture that all men would look upon as certain death. Ben-Amed remem bered that first -BinilOjjof his resolution was not to 15e shafen.— As he was leaving the douar , he caught a glance of the pale, troubled face of the beautiful Aichella, and he prayed God to make his arms strong and his nerves like iron. Ben-Amed rode swiftly back to his own douar , and silently made prepar ations for his fearful undertaking.— He communicated his design to no one, and no one suspected it. The next day, armed with a double barrelled rifle, (a present his father had leceived from a French officer for a signal service,) a brace of pistols, and his trusty yataghan, and carrying provisions sufficient for a week’s ab sence, Ben-Amed, giving out that he was going to shoot a few hares and partridges, set off for a lonely en counter with the dread monarch of the -forest. < For three long days he hunted for the lair of his enemy, sleeping an hour or two at a time, and sitting all night by some lonely path in the wild woods, over which he hoped the lion, whose terrible roar sometimes made him tremble, would pass on his way to the plain. Meantime his friends, alarmed at his absence, instituted a hunt for him, and he had to avoid them, for-they would never have let him carry on his rash purpose. Zou-Araf, fearing to be blamed for the young man’s death, kept his own counsel, and nothing was learned from him , and at the end of the third day the search was given up, and El-llainount mourned his son as dead, and all believed ho had fallen a prey to the lion of the mountain. The brave Ben Amed now had mat ters his own way; and, on the fourth day, in one of the wildest parts of the mountains, he found the lair of the beast he was seeking. It was a dense thicket of olive and mastic trees, whose leaves and branches so inter locked as to shut out sunlight, and al most daylight, while over, through, and under them ran a web of sweet scented vines, making it a fit palace of the forest monarch. With a short prayer, in which he commended his soul to his Maker, Ben-Amed, fairly trembling with a thousand contending emotions, began to enter this dangerous retreat, one cock of his rifle set, and the two bar -rels firmly grasped in his left hand, ready for an instant aim and shot. It was not far from, hour when he passed under the-matted foliage, and even then the place had the gloom of twilight; but as he cau tiously advanced, turning his "keen, dark eyes from side to side, noting every object, and after pausing, alarmed at the beating of his own heart, he found the foliage gradually growing lower and even more dense, with the vines and creepers so thickly rove through it as to bar his way. Into this jungle led a low, round, leafy pas sage, which lie believed, to be the door of the monarch’s sleeping chamber.— Stooping down, therefore, still firm in his purpose, though feeling his frame quiver with conflictng emotions, Ben- Amed began to crawl forward in a very dim light: and six feet further his glaring eyes were greeted with a view of the grim sylvan king, who was stretched before him in royal state on his soft scented couch, perfectly lost in a peaceful slumber. It was now that the daring youth shook like an aspen, and his teeth fairly chattered in his head; and it was not until he had said another prayer, and let his mind wander to the beautiful Aichella, that he could so command his nerves as to cock the other barrel. The click of the lock awoke the dread beast, who suddenly turned from his side upon his belly, and opened his great eyes with a lazy, sleepy look. For an instant he did not see the bold hunter—who, resting on one knee and ready to fire, was again trembling be fore him—and then his eyes became fixed upon the intruder, at first-*4th an air of surprise that any living crea ture should so have presumed to ven ture into his regal presence, and then gradually beginning to gleam with an ger and burn with rage. Ben-Amed felt the mesmeric power of those ter rible eyes, and knew that in another moment, if he waited another moment, he should fall a helpless victim before them. “In the name of Allah ! for Aichel la !” he said, in a low, solemn tone; and thrusting forward his rifle till it almost touched the head of the growl ing and crouching beast, he pulled both triggers tegether. This was all Ben-Amed knew till some days after, when he awoke from a soft couch beneath his father’s tent. His shot had been heard by some hun ters on the mountain, who had found him -With his face frightfully mangled and the flesh stripped from his ribs, in a totally senseless state, beneath the dead body of a huge lion, whose brain had been pierced by two leaden balls. It is only necessary to add, that the brave Ben-Amed in time recovered, and became the most famous man in all that region. He married the beautiful Aichella, but brought a ter ribly scarred face and body to the wedding, and did not feast upon the carcase of the lion his valor had slain. EAVESDROPPERS. Comtemplation of the character of an eavesdropper produces feelings of disgust, and of utter contempt. It is a character of all others that; I abhor, and look upon with fear. For in my humble opinion, a person that Svill stoop so low as tQ jact the part of an eavesdroopper, will condescend to meaner things, if there is nnything that can be considered meaner; and such will always, according to the old adage, “ never hear any good of them selves,” and, indeed, never should. Eavesdroppers are persons of whom I know very little, and I wish I knew less. They arc always seen in places with persons of their own character, but you will never see them with up right and honorable people. Why is it so ? Because of their acts. Eaves dropping has been the ruin of a great many who are now deviating from the path of virtue. There are some people who are con tinually looking into other people’s business, and seem anxious to know everything about them. And why ? It is only to go off some where else to repeat it, and add a little more to what they hear. Such is the way with eavesdroppers, for when they hear anything that other people say, they are sure to add a little more to it when they tell any one else; and that often causes disturbances between families and friends. I wonder how people feel when they are caught eavesdropping. Bad enough, I imagine. Can they ever look at an honorable person, full in the face, again ? If they can it is more than I could. Alice. Greenville Masonic Female College. What Female Education Should he. Now what ought all }'oung ladies to learn ? First, to speak and write English correctly, and to read it aloud fluently. Next, to do plain needle-work. It is a great mistake to think that wealth can supersede the necessity for this. In the first place, this is the most feminiee of occupa tions ; next, it affords even the stu pidest poison an opportunity of doing one thing well without being attracted by the display that usually attends excellence; and lastly, it is a most valuable preparation for a useful in tercourse with the poor. Then must come the rudiments of history, geogra phy and ciphering, and as much Frdnch as tier ‘natural ability of" the student renders possible. Nothing more is necessary, except dancing— all else shouhl depend upon natural gifts and personal tastes. Scarcely any women can ever be so learned or clever that it becomes a matter of indifference whether she is also good-looking* yet she may easily acquire a proficiency which will be a source of genuine satisfaction to her self and her friends. It must, how ever, be conceded that it is not possi ble to range all under the head of stu pid or clever, and that some common ground of general education is want ing, which shall test, awaken and de velop their powers as they grow into young women. Incomparably the best instrument for meeting this want is to be found in the study o.f standard English liter ature. This will elevate, excite and steady them, and make them rationally proud to think that they are called on to “ suckle fools and chronicle small beer ” in a great free country. Ac complishments are quite a secondary matter. If men do not get tired of songs, they soon get tired of the singer if she can do nothing but sing. What is really wanted in a women is that she should be a permanently pleasant companion. [From the Easton (Fa.) Argus.~\ Abe Lincoln.—The following is an extract from a letter written by' a prominent member of Congress to a gentleman in his place. It was not intended for publication, and-gives no very complimentary account of Old Abe: Willard’s Hotel, 1 Washington, March 1, 1861. J “ I was called here to vote in the House, and will return to Richmond to-morrow. The Republican party is utterly demoralized, disrupted and broken up. Cameron and Chase, Weed and Greely, can never affiliate. Lincoln is a cross between a sandhill crane and Andalusian jackass. He is, by all odds, the weakest man who has ever been elected—worse than Taylor, and he was bad enough. I believe Virginia, under his follies and puerili ties, will secede. It will take time, and she will act deliberately, and with her go all the Border Slave Sbates. I was sent for by him. I speak what I know. He is vain, weak, puerile, hypocritical, without manners, without social grace, and as he talks to you, punches his fist under your ribs. He swears equal to Uncle Toby, and in every particular, morally and mentally, I have lost all respect for him. He is surrounded by a set of toad eaters and bottle holders, and did not know what the Adams amend ment was until I told him. In addi tion to this I am perfectly satisfied he is an Abolitionist of the Lovejoy and Sumner type. “ Such is your God. Oh! Israel!” (fat’jjiit Pffliltj. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10. THE PRESENT CRISIS. The news from all points is very conflicting, yet the prospect tor war is more menacing ’lfenr ever. 'To us it seems probable that Abra ham Lincoln is afraid to sign the or der commanding Anderson to evacu ate Fort Sumter —afraid of his own party. The Black Republicans desire war; they cannot afford to lose the revenue of the seceded States; and to give it up will be attempt to carry on a government without a treasury. Notwithstanding all their profes sions of a desire for peace, the Re publicans at Washington have been, and are still carrying on a vast game of political chicanery and rascally de ception. Old Abe, in person, as a mere individual, thirsts for immediate war. He would be more than mortal did he not hate to the bitterest extreme the whole Southern people. His sen timents are those of his right hand men, his wily and cowardly Sewards, his blustering and brutish Trumbulls and Chases, his craven-hearted and malignant Sumners, his lying and sneaking Giddingses, Grceleys, Cor wins. But all are forced to wait upon two missing and much needed items— money and the approbation of Daddie Scotty. The Southern Confederacy is being deceived, cajoled—made an ass ! and this we asserted weeks ago. There is one quick, sure and only easy way to end this matter —Open fire upon Forts Sumter and Pickens at once ! Then let Old Abe move if he dare. The echo of that firing would rouse lethargic Virginia, inspire uneasy Maryland, revive ardent Ken tucky, arouse deceived and irritated North Carolina, Arkansas, and Ten nessee—-as for Delaware and Missouri, they will be bats, neither beasts nor birds for the next five hundred years. The miserable old imbecile in Washington, if he should attempt co ercion, or to resent the capture of the Forts, would find a foe worthy of more than his attention, springing from the prolific cities of the North. It is stated that the South Caroli nians are £rowin</ very impatient.— We are glad to hear it. We hope they may initiate the true and surest policy for the times—Strike, and wait afterwards. The Abolitionists, and their apolo gists say that the Federal poweis are waiting for the seceders to regain their lost patriotism; waiting for a promised reaction—that is, waiting for treason to spread among us. If we are to be gulled, bamboozled, and tricked until that time, let us have the strife at once. Quick death i3 better than being killed by inches. But we are cheered by the belief that this suspense cannot last much longer. We know enough of human nature to assert, confidently, that sus pense and long endured apprehension of disaster make men rash, reckless and revengeful; and, though to begin an attack upon the forts would not be rash, yet the act, though springing from passion merely, would be the best thing that could happen just now.— Or at least, let a certain, short space of time be offered to the Federal Gov ernment, within which to decide, one .way or the other, and at the end of that time— act according to circum stances. To us the course of the Confeder ate States Commissioners, seems very unworthy of our people. They ap pear, and are treated as petitioners, suppliants—often as snubbed busy bodies. The Washington correspondent of the New York Herald asserts that the Commissioners are wholly in the Cotton interest, and ready to accept peace upon any terms ; that the Davis Cabinet is divided, and the majority in favor of prompt action, but that the minority favors diplomatic delay be cause of cotton; that cotton makes the Commissioners wait and hope, and hope and wait. But the Herald is such a mendacious sheet that we at once pronounce the statement false. In the meantime, the workings of the Black Republican tariff is throw ing all commercial Europe and Fede ral America upon our side, and Sec retary Chase, of Abe’s Cabinet vents his spleen by prohibiting all entries for transportation of goods in bonds to the Southern Confederacy. The Northern would-be fire eaters are ter ribly excited by the call made in Vir ginia for a grand Secession Conven tion of that State on the 16th inst.— May she redeem her name, and secede on the 16th inst. After that what will become of the “Union?” The Confederate States will be the United States of America, and the North the “ Bump." HUMBLE. An article appears in the last issue of The Southern Field and Fireside , condemning the sounding of the letter hin the word humble. The writer ex poses his ignorance of the advance of polite pronunciation, in his absurd de fence of the ’umble style, which be came obsolete halPa-century ago.*— One of his arguments is, that the h should be sounded because an is used before it in the Episcopal liturgy— that is, two errors make wrong right. He goes on to lay the whole blame upon Dickens, the novelist, because Dickens ridicules Uriah Heep’s ’umble in one of the author’s great stories. If we are to follow our ’umble friend’s reasoning we must pronounce humbug, ’umbug; humming-bird, ’lim ing-bird ; hummock ’ummock; hum , 'um; human , ’uman , and so on ad infinitum. Perhaps our ’umble friend clings to pronouncing humor, -yumor , which Noah Webster declares vilely vulgar. We can think of but two words, with their English derivatives, in the letter h, in which that letter is not sounded, to-wit: honor and honest. Desiring no higher authorites for using a instead of an before humble , and for aspirating h in that word we quote, “ Without a humble imitation,” &c., &c. Washington’s letter, June 18th, 1783. Will brother “Ells,” of the Field and Fireside, ponder thereon ? ARMY AND NAVY. The recruiting service and navy yards of the North are remarkably active, more so than they have been since the Mexican war. The admin istration is straining every nerve to place the North upon a formidable war footing, and alleges as the cause the menace of Spain to take possession of Hayti in the West Indies. We believe this to be a ruse to de ceive the South, and that those bel ligerent preparations are meant for our especial castigation. In favor of their alleged reason for fighting Spain, the Republicans say that a foreign war would immediately re-unite the fragments of the late Union. Now it is patent to every roan of common sense, that, at this time of embittered feeling in the South, though all Christendom should pounce upon the arrogant and fanatical Nofrth, not a single corporal’s guard of Southern volunteers could bo drummed np to pull triggers for her, within the Con federate States. Still, leading Republicans assert, that the United States will be at war with Spain within thirty days, and that the Confederate States will have it with Mexico within less time. Undoubtedly there is a strong smell of gunpowder in the air, and every body of 1881 is “ spoiling for a fight.” ggp One week from to day, we shall begin the publication of a South ern Romance, from the pen of the ed itor of this paper, the author of “ The Brother s Vengeance “ Virginia Glencaire ,” &c., &c., titled : Rosetta, the Wine-Seller’s Daughter; or, The Night before the Battle of New Orleans. The story will run for three months in our columns, but all of its scenes and events are represented as having transpired between the hours of 7 and 12 o’clock of the night of the 7th of January, 1815. This story will immediately be fol lowed by another from the same au thor, titled : The Fanatic ; or, The Home of the Abolitionist. Subscribe early! Those deisring either an ex cellent Daily or Weekly paper will please read the advertisement of Messrs. llanleiter & Adair, of The Southern Confederacy, published in Atlanta. The paper is a credit to its city and State, and in these exciting times a Daily Paper like The South ern Confederacy is a “ military neces sity.”—[Readers of newspapers un derstand the allusion !] We have received the April number of The Dollar American Monthly Magazine. J. L. Hamelin Publisher, Philadelphia. The cheap ness as well as the intrinsic merit of this first class Magazine, recommends it to all. Terms $1 per annum. The State of Connecticut has gone for the Black Republican by an increased majority. This result of the election, last week, will undoubt edly force Virginia from the Union. jg@°» We refer our readers to the land advertisement of Messrs. How ard and Moore'. In bard times seek for good bargains.