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She Okovuia fttedtlt. 9 I ‘ : v* v VOL. I. , <El)e idcefehji, *’ ORVOTED TO V " Literature aai Information, Wm:. Peg k, JCwbf' .d«>i '•ttyfietor. PUSjLrtflKD' IVBBT' WEDNESDAY, DT .JP JE&3-1* , i&f-T. I N-jE S.; IN ADVANCE ! - .' ' Oto op®’, j>ef.irMane.!. . ...... »V..’ $2.00 SjagleisoSic^,'»v.s cents. jJ^*‘A(iv. ; rfis€cneiits ifljerted . «/ Jfl lines, for o-ue insiWt jon,. a 0-1 SOfidjlCyftir eaVli suhsequent iKsertion. A liberal flitfiiilforf tfi fSe to them* whf>, lhe Yrnr. ' >I 1 ’ill ■ V « | V* 1 ' '■■>*"** -. ■'.ftfriii.6p > f(^. - WVeklj-.)' ";. falling rain, ■ \-j, :> *,;■*. v- — . . .BY, jnuj.l.lE j. SLOAN. • i: — ■•Tl(j’'rt»rßno»s of i i/ht is approaching, ‘ .ft o'er the plain ; Tto w’O j sends" the clouds in 4 <rk masses, •■•vjSuiHejs-bjatald the coming rain. V[lfiY4t!?i«aeth so wild on the caserent!— •irbm't.hq roof it re- <-ho s again; Bqw.liJ^el.v it sounds in the darkness— ..'l-Eia the failing, pattering rain. *Xi s„a dirge to the day's golden beauty, . ■ iAkitT-ihe clouds, pall like, cover the past; As'l listen my thoughts go out drearily, ' .To.'tlie moments too blissful to last. I tj.v* o'e’r agam my 11 le 11 childhood, the heart was as free as a bird, A till wandered i lie broad fields of fancy,. {Ringing trusting to all that it beard, : .The ravs of ifope's sun then slmne o'er me, Making Het-work of amber and gold ; Bit, alas! t.hose-briglitbeams have all vanished, fit adversity's dark, cloudy told. .Hair Hope's sunbeams go wi ll ns to cheer us, When removed to tile prison-house—clay; . And gently may the rains patter o'er us, ; As we quietly slumber for aye. ■ ' And may we awake in that Region » • \Vlie r e rain drops and clouds ne’er come ; But where gleams bright sunlight forever, in that peaceful and Heavenly Home. Mawltta, Ga., 1801. THE WINE-SELLERS DAUGHTER, OR THE NIGHT BEFORE THE MTZ.S OS’ NEW ORLEANS. * n't william hßnry rr.cz. Author of' l ' The Brother's Vengeance” u Vir s ginia Gtencaire u Saul, the Renegade” u The Hocioxoon” li The Red Dwarf,.* li The Family Doom“ The Black * Phantom 44 The Corsican," iL Blolf,” • •' '* dec., dee., dec. COPYRIGHT SECURED. CHAPTER 111. VIOLA. Paul returned to the saloon and found his aged friends awaiting him. “ Ah,” said he, as joined them, “ there is no doubt of it—my child loves Victor St. John. Col. Hartly, my life and services are your at com mand, in return for your kindness.” “ I trust the warning has not come too late, friend Paul,” remarked Hartly, with a significance well under stood. “ Had it been too late,” replied Paul, with the deep tone of resolve, I would now be as Virginius when he slew his daughter. But enough of .this; you are my friends and have each a daughter—let no one—” “It is an affair too sacred for the ear of the world,” interrupted Ilartly, while old Valid flushed with honest in dignation. Then let us go to Benditio’s,” said Paul. “It is now eight o’clock.” “.We have concluded,” remarked Ilartly, “ that but one of us should seek him, and as you can inform us of his place of abode, either Monsieur Valid ov I' will go there. If we all .go our number will attract attention.” 44 It is true,” said Valid ; therefore let me undertate-the affair.” “No; I will go alone,” remarked Paul. “For as I have.been Seen.there before—at least, near there, my pres ence will attract rio remark.” “ Are you Sure that you eap trust this Italian?” asked HaUlyyr''. “I ;wn ; for unless my eyes played ? me. false, Benditto hates Victor St. John,”,.. • “ Shall we await your return ?" “ No, gentlemen, I have engaged to meet an acquaintance at midnight,” replied Paul. Then beckoning to a young man behind the bar, he said, as the youth approached : 44 Pierre, you must not leave the sa loon until I return —though I may not return until after midnight.” Pierre bowed and returned to his post. He was a tall, thin fellow, about twenty years of age, but with a cold and thoughtful expression upon his sharp and sinister looking face that made him appear much older; with black and restless eyes, full of cun ning, avarice and treachery. Paul .retired to a desk behind the bar, and taking a pair of pistols from it placed them in his bosom, buttoned his coat over them and left the saloon. tu Southern fitmifurc, IJeM, anb MeM frttkmaticm. Col. Hartly and M. Vall£ soon de parted, and then Pierre pulled a cord whit \ communicated .-with. Rosetta’s room, and which was a fhucime by which Paul usually summoned his daughter to his aid when his customers came too fast. ,Jlut when Paul used it he was wontitqjei'k it suddenly and at ran- Mdin,. Fibrre used it -st) that the boll : ini’'Rosetta’s room tinkled almost in iaudibly. ‘ . A momentafter, the door which was slightly opened, Ipnd whispered through the r ‘efevice,'while feigning to rinse# gob- ‘ firther-gtme eat?” •'. es. ile has gimdi'’ y.; ■ “ Hid he Say when he would- re turn V: y v *A “ Not URtir.after mi<lnight.” “ IFid hd'go-'artncd.” “ Up took his pistols.” The door'Was shut instantly and Pierre muttered:' , 1 “ She certainly seemed much agita ted ; and so did my worthy uncle. 110 ! they have their fine secrets and I have mine. Let us wait. She does not esteem Pierre llivart as he merits, and pretends not to know that I love her. My uncle would kick me into the street if he suspected it, and she knows it. But it is not from love for me that she does not let him suspect —it is because I am useful to ner. Iler father has- many golden pieces— and I love them also. Still the gold without Rosetta, or Rosetta without the gold would not satisfy my ambi tion. I know her secret—she loves that American captain. It is well. Let them go on. I will wait.” So thinking, this son of Paul Arnar’s half sister, a young reprobate the'hur. mane wine-seller had rescued from the bitter struggles of a poverty-sti’jpkcn orphanage, contented himself'; With waiting and pilfering from ’the. tiliyjth the slyness of a fox. Meantime Rosetta, forgetting.ojvdi's regarding her oath, as she dreairicti of danger to Victor St. John, knew not what to do to warn him. If I show no light at the rear win- 4^,^! stuer its absence a refusal to nteet hirn. for I exchanged signals' with him in., the saloon. Assuredly, my father will meet him, and forgetting, his promise —eh ! his promise ? Did'l not make a promise also!’’ . Rosetta wrung her liiuicU m despair. “And Ihave no one to trust. Annette is away—Pierre is jealous, and would play me false. What shall Ido ! My father will mcet*Victor and thqy will quarrel!—Ob, horrible what if he should kill or wound Victor!”, ’ • It did not occur to her that Victor might kill her father ! •*. ■ Her eyes fell upon the shattered ivory, whereon had smiled the fate she loved so well, and snatching thfe fragments from the floor she endeav-' ored to arrange them, so as to restore, even a trace of the handsome features. But Paul’s indignant heel had annihi lated the image;- ‘ “But he lives in my heart,'--.crie'd' Rosetta, dashing aside the pieces.- '“I cannot cease to love;Kim. Why should' I cease to love him - ? My promise!' It was extorted from me!” Then she remembc'red that Paul had spoken of others whom Victor ' St. John had pretended to love, and she paced the floor in a tempest of pas sion. “ Still, I must warn him—l must see him once more—even if only to tell him he is a traitor. If I could knoiv he wished to deceive me.” A timid tapping at her door startled her. “ Who is there ?” she asked. “It is Annette,” replied a female voice. .“■..Gome in, Annette,” said Rpsetta, openitig ths doo.i; ;• tl-a;plain,.slm pi e - faced", fat v wss*i),i]£qrne of age, came in; ieToaked' aird bWftn%(ted. “Ah, how pale you are, rtiy chijd!” cried Annette, who gave this tender title to Rosetta, whom she had nursed in her infancy. “Ami? lam not well. Sit down, Annette. Annette, you have had but a short visit this evening.” “ True ; the friend whom I wished to sec was not in, and so I came home again. But how strange you look— and I had such a dream about you last night.” “ I know—you told me of it this morning,” said Rosetta. “ You love me, Annette?” “What a question!” cried Annette. “ Why, if you were my own daughter, I could not love you more than I do this very minute.” “ Will you keep a secret if I give you one ?” “ A secret! This little child has a secret!” laughed Annette. But Rosetta looked so grave that the honest woman cried out: “ Something is the matter! Are are indeed ill ?” “ Very ill,” sighed Rosetta. GREENVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 24, 1861. Annete immediately turned to leave, the room. She was going for a doc tor on the instant. *■ Stay I” said Rosetta. “I am not ill in body—but in mind.” “ Which is the dreadful sickness, my dear child—and you so happy all day. Tell me what it is, my dear, perhaps I can aid you.” llosetta hesitated. She needed a confidante, but feared to speak. At length she said: “Were you ever in love, Annette ?” “Oh, my life!” cried Annette.— “ This infant is in love, Annette Tiegan'to laugh as lr the idea was ex .-ebssively ridiculous. '.. But'-Rosetta commanded her to be sijenl,'. and-then told her of she late scene, and of Paul’s anger. “ Victor must not' meet, my father,” continued Rosetta, after felling all. “ That would be dreadful !”• ex claimed Annette. “ Your father would kill him ! . But if he is aa bad perhaps it would be best'fpr you, my child,” ' •>. . >.-■• “ Annette !” cried RpSetfa, stamp ing her foot. “I know: lie' is.every thing that is good.” ;. “Yes—you think sop. my ..child,” said Annette, shaking-'hejvjiead. •' >< I thought the same of- '-loVei;— but if it had not been jfof A . fortune teller I should have .repeated' it. It is true, the fortune-.telfe.fc• was in love with me, but wha-tr.he- S’aid 'came to, pass; for my first lcrver had already two wives and was-'sent to prison for it. Don’t you trust anybody butyourl father.” “Do you think a fortune-teller could tell me anything about Victor ?” asked Rosetta, absently. . “Ofcourse —tlipy know everything,” ■replied -Apnette.‘*!-There is one in tins city—a : ,new-..oTie,'-w;ho lias not been here fiiivny Weeks4—w-ho can tell you anything - arid-, ‘every thing, past, present and uturigif”' “ What Js.-litfr rtame-i?” “ Her name? llis name is Ben ditto.” . 4 " “ Do-you know where he lives, An nette ?” “ Certainly, my child. I have did not wish to ask any one to go with me.” “Will you go there now, with me ?” “ At ni_ht!” cried Annette. “Wliy not? It is a little after eight'; and after we have been there we can contrive some way to Warn Victor.” ■* Annette mused in great perplex ity. “ It is very wrong,” thought she. “But the streets are deserted—what would Paul A mars ay—what wouldn’t he do ? But lam sure Pierre is de ceiving me; not that I have not still powerful attractions,"but it is well to .look about us. This is an excellent chance to ask after those silver spoons, ami that silver mug I have missed. But what will Paul Amar say ? Where is your father, my child ?” she added; •altiad.'' .. “ Gone out, until after midnight.” It is wrong—but—well, no harm come of it, I am sure,” said An nette. . “ Then you will go with me An nette?” • “It is the very first time I have ever thought of doing anything that ‘might anger your father —but—well, I will go.” “ Then let us he off at once,” cried Rosetta; “for Bcnditto may tell us how to warn Victor.” “ I care nothing for him,” thought Annette, as Rosetta prepared for the expedition. “ All I wish to know is, whether Pierre Rivart is really in love with me, and what has become of those spoons.” ‘•I am ready Annette,” cried Ro setta, at length, as she completed her preparations by throwing a heavy ! Spanish veil over her face. “We j must go out by the rear.” They left the roonr, and as they hurried along the hall heard the tu multuous voices of the frequenters of the saloon, which assured them that Pierre had his hands full of business below. “ No one knows that we are going,” said Rosetta. “Let us haste.” They were soon upon the pave ments and on their way to Benditto’s; but as they crossed one of the princi pal streets, to enter another less im posing, a horse attached to a carriage passing rapidly, stumbled and fell, so near to Rosetta that she screamed and ran back to the pavement she had just quitted. Annette, in her own terror, fled on and gained the oppo site side of the street, where she paused, muttering prayers for the safety of her mistress. The night was intensely dark, but the carriage lamps enabled Rosetta to observe the efforts of the driver to raise his horse to its feet, and to whose assistance ran a man clad in uniform. “Ah ! it is Victor f ’ cried Rosetta,! as the., light flashed upon this man’s face? - “ \YJiose carriage is this ?’ f asked Victor, for it was he. “ 061. Jlartly’s,” replied the driver, .touching" hjs hat. “Is it you, Cap .<'fain st', Jo-Ln ?” “ Cubn,’’-' cried a gentle voice from the carriage, “open the door.” “My dear Miss Viola! I trust you are not -injured. Be not alarmed — Cuba will soon have the horse upon his feet again.” Rosetta tried in vain to catch a jJiniW i»f tlic face of the lady in. tbe caridage; but Victor’s form was in the way, and, with her heart in her tbrbat, Rosetta was forced to await the eftd'pf the scene. ?*-The horse is quite dead,” said the dniyifr. ' ! what a misfortune!” cried the lady. “Captain St. John, what shaß I do? I received a note from our friend Miss Allison, telling me t-hatt her mother was suddenly stricken imploring her to visit her im mediately, asher father and brother ate. with the away—” .'•'‘.’My life ahj services arc ever at your-command,” interrupted Victor, as;hhwing, lie-kissed her gloved hand, heard-ihe sound of the kiss, arkl'-ltcr jealous ears placed it not upon Viola Hartly’s hand, but upon her lipsr-y; — 1 ' ••- “Ah, he has been trifling with me,” thought Rosetta. “He loves-Ajlifl; kisses Viola!” “ Bpt what shall I do, Captain'St. John ?” asked Viola, withdrawing her hand quickly from Victor’s passion; ate clasp. .. '. “ Honor me, Miss Viola, by ac cepting my escort, either to voifr home or to Gen. Allison’s,” said. Vic tor, in persuasive tones. Evidently the young lady did hot like this conversation to proceed fur ther in the dark, for she cried out r i “Cuba, bring one of here, that I may see how" to place my ,foot upon the step.” While the driver, bewildered By the accident, made several false attempts to unfasten dne of the carriage lamps, wh icllwe yivang fa iTy t-e pi leu : ■ ■ “ Captain-St. John! this is no time to speak that matter. Besides, I g'ave you my final answer this morn >Ag-” ■ “ You drive me-to despair, Viola,” said Victor, in a tone of deep sadness. “ lie calls her Viola !” thought the unhappy . Rosetta. “ Ah, Benditto needs not to tell me that Victor is perfidious-!” “Cubrt! Will you hurry?” ex claimed Viola, almost frightened by the earg.erness of passion which gleam ed from Victor’s eyes, despite the darkness, and really alarmed as she detected the fumes of brandy recking in his-breath. “ In a second !” cried Cuba, as he tore away the obstinate lamp and has tened to his lady ; but not until Ro setta;---wfeo- had drawn dangerously near, heard Victor say: “ Viola Ilartly, you know I madly love you —let me hope that your an swer is not final.” “It is final, sir; and I reject your proffered escort. Leave me, Captain St. John.” Cuba was now too close for Victor to venture more than a bow, which he made and turned to depart, boiling with rage, when Col. Ilartly and Mons. Valid reached the spot, as they were, on their way homeward. “Ah—iny dear father, I am jsb happy to meet you,” exclaimed Viola, and then hurriedly related the cause of her presence there. “ J am much obliged to Captain St. John for his kindnes,” said Col. Hart lys-i#-*-tene of icy haughtiness, and not deigning to look at Victor, as he stood near. “I trust my daughter will never be in so unfortunate a situ ation as to be forced to ask Captain St. John’s aid in anything.” “Why this insult, Col. Ilartly,” demanded Victor. “Are you really insulted?” asked Col. Ilartly. “I saw my friend, Mons. Valle, fail to insult you not lon<r since- But enough of this; we wish to see Captain St. John at our house no more.” “ The loss will be yours and not mine,” retorted Victor, with great bit terness, and then hurried away, too speedily for Rosetta to address him. She would have followed him, but feared to lose Annette, who had re _gaincd..lisr side. “ Come,” whispered Annette. “The patrol is coining this way—you know the city is under martial law.”. “ I have not seqn her —-this Viola Hartly,” replied Rosetta ; whose heart, though greatly wounded, took much consolation in the \hought that her faithless lover was not loved by Viola. “Imustseo if she is as beautiful as report says she Is—for, in truth, I have never seen her, save at a distance.” Bat Annette forced her #vf»y, *tid when Rosetta said that she had no need of a fortune-teller, replied: “ What fickleness ! What is Viola Ilartly or Viola Anybody to you? Since I have been so terribly scared, and am so near Benditto’s, by my faith, I’d feel like' A fool to go home without learning what has become of those spoons! Besides, I have the password, and don*t fear the patrol.” Rosetta, half stupified, made no further resistance.. THE VEILED PORTRAITS. In the meantime Benditto had reach ed his home, towards which he had directed his steps immediately after leaving the saloon. While on his way thither he dex trously avoided the various patrols in his path, and instead of walking fee bly, as became one of bis apparent age and infirmities, sped along with rapid steps, firm though noiseless, un til he reached a quarter of the city quite remote from the saloon. The house in which he lived was an old fashioned, two-storied edifice, built of stone and plaster many years be fore, when Louisiana belonge to Spain. He entered this house by an alley way that admitted him to the rear, and which led to a strong and iron bound door fitted into ths solid wall. Clos ing and locking this after liis hasty entrance he hurried to a small apart .Cl.snt in the front, and upon the ground !floor, shouting: “Mario! are you awake, Mario ?” The figure of a man lying upon a couch, and dimly seen by the dying rays of a feebly burning lamp arose at the summons, and replied: “lam awake, Benditto.”, . . “ Then let us have more light, Ma rio. I have found him,' Mario! I have discovered him L;V-'exclaimed Benditto. .. . ‘ «'J • Mario uttered a cry oVjoy, and hastily trimmed the lamp. As its freshened rays shot forth their radi ance, Paul Amar, had he been, there, would have imagined himself in the presence of two Bendittos, fbf .Mario was the exact counterpart of Benditto in the jmA Bgftditto in t]frc aa^ toon the exact image of Mano in Uie house of the fortune-teller. But as these two men stood facing each other at this moment, one could have per ceived that Benditto no longer stooped and trembled with age, though quiver ing with excitement, while Mario’s stoop was unfeigned. . * - “ You are certain of this Benditto ?” “I am certain of it. \\‘e have sought him thrice fifteen years, Mario —on land and sea, in cities,_ towns and forests—wherever we fancied we saw or heard of a trace. You have sought him by day, and -I by night. Mario, I have found him !” “ Does he still live Benditto ? Did. you not drive your dagger to his heart?” ; ; “He lives, Mario ; for the deeds he wrought demand a greater punish ment than sudden death,” Said Ben ditto. “An Italian demands sweeter revenge than the mere death of his his-.enemy.” “True, Benditto. And now under what same and cloak does he garb his villainy.?” “ Victor St. John !” “Ah ! He comc3 here to-night,'' Benditto!” “’Comeshere, Mario ! For what?” *• Is your Victor St. John a tall arnd superbly handsome man, with eyes like flame, a voice that is as sonorous as a bell —and wears he the Uniform of an American Cavalry Captain?” asked Mario. “The same. He has a haughty and imperious air.” “ Then he comes here to-night to pawn jewels to Benditto the fortune teller,” said Mario. “ I met this man this morning, while on the Place D’Armes, and he asked me if I was npt Benditto the fortune-teller. I re plied that I was. ’He said that he had heard that I was also I money-lender —to which I answered that I would advance money upon jewels—as has been our custom, to keep our purse Strong enough for this “mission of Ital ian vengeance. 4 1 have some rare jewels,’ continued he, ‘and need gold. Tell me when we may make a fair ex change, and I will show them to you.’ 4 Let it be this night,’ I said ; and he appointed the hour of ten. “ But there must be no mistake in this affair, Benditto. An innocent man must not suffer for the guilty. Victor St. John may not be the Henri Le Grand whom we have sworn to destroy. Come, let us go studjr the features of Henri Le Grand in the portrait painted when he was twenty two, and compare them with our re collection of those of Captain St. John, who seems scarcely thirty. For if he is but thirty, he cannot be Henri Le Grand—ivho, if he lives, must be thir ty-eight years old.” 44 Ya# have a miniature painted from the portrait, Mario ; so hate I.” “A portrait painted from a por trait, Benditto, is abut a poor crite rion.” “ A portrait painted upon the bgart is best of all,” said< JBenditto, quickly. “Time will fade that also,” repllifi Mario, with a mournful smile, scarcely visible beneath his beard. “ Come," we will go to tbe portraits.” The two old men left the room, Mario bearing-the light, and to another and much.larger apartment,- furnished in luxurious style, bul con taining nothing remarkable except three veiled pictures. 4 Two of these pictures were of the same size ; but between them was the third, much smaller. All were draped in black crape. Mario drew aside the sombre veil from one of the larger pictures, and revealed the portrait of a youth in the full bloom of young manhood, whose remarkable beauty would have attrac ted the most careless eye. The old men gazed upon it long and silentty, their eyes flashing with pas sion, and their frames quivering with all the fierceness of baffled but undy ing hate. “ The curse of Heaven blight, if it' hath not already blighted, that beau ty !” said Mario, extending his arm and shaking his lean forefinger at the portrait. , —■ “So fair an exterior ! The face of an .angel, with the heart of a devil!” murmured Benditto. ' • “Victor St. John wear£ a mous tache, and his chin is hidden by his heavy beard,” continued. Mario.— “ Henri.Le Xlrand was as beardless as a girl—his eyes beamed with gen tleness—at least so this portrait de clares.*’ “ I have seen them when they gleamed with all the cunning of the serpent!” exclaimed Benditto. “ ’T-was fifteen years ago in Florence when. —” “Do" I know nothing of that?” cripd Mario, grasping Benditto’s hand fiercely. “ Can I. forcet the day when assassination ended the outrage that drove me, broken-hearted, to roam this world, longing only for \Vhat think. 'you? Is Victor St. John, Henri La Grand ?” ; ' - “ As I live I believe it,- replied Ben ditto. “ Could he recognize this?” asked Mario, unveiling the second large pic ture. “ If he is Le Grand he will,” replied Benditto, turning bis back from the portrait and covering his eyes with his -hands. This portrait represented an Italian girl in gala-dayalross, and was of rare and superb loveliness.. Its prevailing expression was one of maiden inno cence and modesty ; and so truly had the painter portrayed the delicate blush of unspotted and artless girl hood, that one in gazing upon the glo rious beauty, might have fancied tbe warm rich blood of conscious beauty, and unconscious purity, coming and going over the lifeless canvass, as the shadows of the clouds come and go over some fair field of summer time. Mario knelt before this magnifi cent work of art, and murmuring : “She was perfect! Fairer form and sweeter face never blessed the home, of man ! Oh God !” bowed his head to his breast, and seemed suffoca ting with grief. “ We must avenge her,” said Ben ditto, in a harsh and bitter tone, as if greatly displeased. “ Weep not for her, Mario—nor'bless her memory.— She deserted her father, her fond and doting father, for the false love of a villain.” “ She was a wife!” cried Mario, rising quickly, and darting a penetra ting glance upon Renditto. “At least no finger could point at her father, and no voice say, ‘ Behold the father of an unmarried mother ?’ And her father has forgiven her.” “ I have not,” said Benditto, gloom ily, and gazing steadily at the por trait of Le Grand. “ I have forgiven her,” continued Mario, “as she would have forgiven this one had this one lived to be de ceived.” As he spoke he unveiled the smallest picture. Benditto glanced but once upon the the infant face then revealed, and stifling a cry fell upon his knees be fore the portrait saying: “ Thou hast been spared much woe in dying, Clara. Pray for-us P’ „ “Do we know that she is dead, Benditto?” said Mario sternly. “Would it not be agony for us to think her living, Mario,” replied Ben ditto, as he rose to his feet. “As we have bu’-ied her in our hearts, let us think she lies buried in thecjrth.” Mario turned his eyes once more upon the portrait of Henri Le Gfand, and after a long and silent scrutiny, said : “lam in doubt, Benditto. Victor St. John may not be the original of that portrait.” NO.- 12