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■ • .V • ♦ VM . / v i >t 1,1 ft* . ft »’ 1 > ■ i Ai , t.t. tl*. PC ' YOL. I, &l)e 1 (Georgia UJeekltj, DEVOTED TO Literature and General Information, WM. HENRY PECK, Editor and Proprietor. PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY, BY PECK &_EINES. TERMS, INVARIABLY IB ADVANCE: One copy, per annum i.. $2.00 Single copies,..., 5 cents. inserted at s.l ft square of 12 lines, for one insertion, and 50 cents for each subsequent insertion. A libera! deduction made to those who advertise by the year. Offß WILLY. Near me now our Willy knreleth, O'er my soul, devotion stealeth, As his blue eyes, calm and holy, Turn from earth to Heaven slowly; Set m he like an angel praising, Angels bright are on him gazing, And his Savior smi es from Heaven, On the little child of seven, Softly is the silence broken, By the sacred words out-spoken; Low and sweet in meek beseeching, ’Tis the prayer of Jesus’ teaching ; Filled with praise and resignation, Asking grace against temptation, Heard am'd the stars of Heaven, From the lips of tender seven. Brother,dear, in Life’syoung morning, 0 »and with grace thy soul’s adorning; 0, let him lie grateful ever, Weary in thy'pleadings never; Trust him, serveliim, love, adore him, Humbly bow thy will before him, And when “dust to dust’ is given, Thou will sing his praise in Heaven. THE WINE-SELLER’S DAUGHTER, OR THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. RY WILLIAM HENRY TY.CH. Author of 11 Tht Brothers Vengeance," “ Vir •ginia Glencetiri “ Saul, the Renegade ,” “ The .I {octoroon," l > The Red Dn arf s .‘ “The Family Doom” "Tht Jilack Phantom,'’ “ The Co’dean f “ Dlobef <£•<•., <te., die. COPYHIOHT SECURED. CHAPTER V. THE WIZARD. -As Paul left the house of the for tune-teller, Mario allowed the two veiled ladies to enter, and leaving the door open said: “Pause here for a moment,” then returned to the small apartment, wltence he re-appeared hearing; a lamp. “I wish to examine the door,” he remarked as he raised the light above j his head. One glance satisfied him. Near the bra Zen knocker was the mysterious inscription, “ B. & B. “Follow me, ladies,” he continued,! after closing the door; and led Ids visitors into the “ chamber of oracles" as he termed the small apartment. This room, we have omitted to State, was hung in deep black, thickly carpeted, and contained a single round taJble, fantastically painted, a couch and a few chairs. “Be seated, lady and lady’s ser vant,” said Mario. “You have hid den your faces, but your hands are ungloved,” Oite of the visitors uttered a cry of surprise arid hid her fat and scorched hands in the folds of her dress. The other sti'U farther revealed her snowy, tiny himds r and s&id boldly: “Yaui; are very'wise, sir wizard.— Can vou; t,eH names of your visitors ?’.'’ .’> “Such trifles are unimportant in the workings of the noble science of astrology, young lady.” “ Why young lady ?” “ Your voice is net disguised,” said Mario. “You are shpewd; but not wise enough to tell memy name,” observed the lady. “Perhaps,” replied Mario, striking the table. - An invisible bell sounded thrice.— The black curtain again arose, and the dismal looking recess was seen. “Gaze into that gloom,” said Ma rio, in solemn tones, “ and if those who serve me deem you worthy they will declare your name.” The ladies turned their eyps upon the recess and a banner, brilliantly il luminated seemed to float from the dark distance until both read this in scription, in deep scarlet letters: “Rosetta.the Wine-Seller s Daughter." “Ah, this is sorcery,” exclaimed the lady. “ We are in a den of devils !” cried the other, trembling violently. The curtain fell suddenly and Mario said : “Are you satisfied!” “No,” exclaimed Rosetta, whose strong nerves were only stimulated to further inquiry. “ Tell me the natne of my attendant.” The carta in rose again, and the. banner again floated into view, bear* gritftfb to §ont|ern pKfoit, |te, anti dheral Information. ing the words: “Lena, of Stras bourg!” “False!” exclaimed Rosetta. “It is Annette.” But Annette screamed and sank into a chair crying: “ Save my soul, all good angels ! I haVe not borhe that name for many years! It was to serve your father, my child, that I changed my name— but I defy this sorcerer to say that I am not an honest woman With nothing upon my conscience.” Again the eurtainrose and the ban ner floated into view. As Annette read the Inscription she screamed louder thafl ever. Bhe read the name of Pierre Rivart. “ Let us go home ! I feel sick ! In fact lam disgusted!” cried Annette. Then changing her mind she exclaim ed. “ But since you know that I have sometimes thought of that yduhg man, tell me if he will make a worthy hus band !” Another banner floated into sight upon which was written: “He will die as he was born—a traitor.” “ I knew it,” said Annette.— “ Doubtless he knows what has become of my spoons.” Mario made a ges ture and the curtain fell. “Now, young lady,” said he, “re turn home. I divine the object of your visit. Your father will not in jure Victor St. John. Rosetta, despite her natural hardi hood, trembled violently and ex claimed : “ Are you a man or a demon ?” “ A man,” said Mario, sternly.—-* “Beware of Victor St. John, Rosetta, and, if you should ever see him again, shun him. Better take the head of an adder in your naked hand than give ear to the love of Victor St. John !” “Do you know him?” gasped Ro setta. “Ishe so very, very bad ? Can not a love like mine change his heart ? Ah, old man, you who are so powerful, you who have so much wisdom—can you not aid me in saving him from his evil nature —if indeed he is so wicked ? But it is faisq—■false, old man !, Yictyr is true and noble. This is some plot to force me to think him vile and base! I will not believe it! 1 love him—and I will love him—yes, though he were thrice as bad as you would force me to believe !” Raving in a tempest of passion the furious girl became incoherent in her cries, and Annette threw her arms around her and struggled to calm her. “ She is lost —unless the cause of this madness is crushed,” thought Mario, as he calmly viewed the sceno. Suddenly Rosetta, with a passionate gesture, tore off her veil and facing Mario cried: “Tell me! Does he love Viola Hartly V” But Mario recoiled from the white and quivering face, with a loud and sharp cry of terror, dismay and horror pealing front his lips, llis eyes glared wildly, his grizzled hair seemed to rise with the agony of sudden dread and his very beard to bristle with wild wonder. “Saints alive !” screamed Annette, clinging to Rosetta. “ lie is going mad—see how he claws at the air with his hands—and snaps his teeth.” And in truth Mario’s visage pre sented a terrific spectacle. lie seem ed suffocating with some word that rattled in his throat and foamed upon his lips. He strode with outstretched arms towards Ros’etta. She retreat ed, appalled at his glaring eyes and glistening teeth ; with her beautiful but terrified face turned towards him, as white as the lace of her collar, while Annette, true to her love for her foster-child sprang between. Mario gasped, threw up his arras, cried again that loud sharp cry and fell headlong backwards to the floor. “ Ah! he is dead! Bendiito is dead 1” exclaimed Annette ; but glancing towards the black curtain, which rustled as it rose, she saw the real Benditto, the living counterpart of him upon the floor, peering from the recess, his eyes flashing with as tonishment. “Look! See!” cried Annette, “ there are two Benditto’s ! Mercy ! Come, my child 1 We are in the lair of Satan !” and g“asping the waist of the bewildered Rosetta she dragged her from the room into the hall, then to the street door—unlocked it and rushed into the street with a speed now rivaled by that of Rosetta, who fled with her, hand in hand until the house ! of the fortune-teller was many squares behind them. “I must catch breath, my dear child,” gasped Annette, as she sank exhausted upon a gate-step. “ Ah, what an adventure.” Rosetta made no reply, but upheld till now by the strength of fear, drop ped upon the pavement as senseless as the stones beneath her. j “Saints of Heaven?” cried Aft* ' nette, springing the proMrate form, ! and striving to raise it in her mwm- GREENVILLE, GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY, MAY 1. 1861. But her recent' race of terror had made the strong woman as weak as a child. Tearing off her cloak, rolling it in to a pillow, and placing it under the head of the unhappy girl, Annette tried to open the gate of the flower garden that barred her approach to the house to which it belonged. The gate was locked ; and the deep growl of a monstrous dog, guardian of the place, warned Annette of the presence of the savage beast within. But the noble hearted woman fcurged all her weight against the gate, sprung its hinges loose, and darttyrßup -the shelly walk, nor paused until site clam ored at the house-door. The occupants were slow in respond ing, and the dog, excited to fury by the invasion made ferocious leaps to, break the chain which bound him in his kennel. “ Open! In the name of Heaven open 1” screamed Annette, striking the door with hands and feet. At length the door flew open, and Annette found herself confronted by a beautiful young lady; whose firm eye and resolute face proved her able and ready to use the carbine she grasped in her steady hands. “Pardon!” cried Annette. “Oil come did my child ! She is dead or dying at your gate ! come quickly.’* By this time several female servants and one or two aged negro men, had ' hurried to the spot, staring in open mouthed wonder at the intruder. “Bring lights,” said the young lady to the servants, in acalrn andmel odious voice. “ Good woman, calm yourself—we will do all in our power. Hasten, Jane—give me that candle come with me, John and Robin— lead us to your child, good woman.” “Ah, she is not my child in truth,” said Annette, as all followed her, “but my foster-child, the only child of Paul Ainar, the wine-seller. Perhaps she has simply swooned. “Carry her into the house,” said the lady, as the servants gathered around the unconscious Rosetta. — “ Rite lives her into the saloon and place her upon the nearest sofa. These orders Were delivered rapidly, but with admirablc-.jcoolness, though the young lady w-as pale-and her eyes flashed with exciternent,’ -* Her commands were’quickly, ohfeyed and the lady asked,: • '• *•.. : “How did this happen?” “ It is too long a story’ toHell now," replied Annette, chafing Rosetta’s hands and temples. We have been terribly frightened by ar hideous old man.” “ She is exceedingly lovely,” said the lady, as she aided Annette, “ and very young. Ah, she opens her eyes —what beautiful eyes.” Rosetta recovered her senses almost as quickly as she had lost them, and her eyes glanced from face to face, until they paused in sudden wonder upon the angelic beauty of the yo.urrg lady near her. . ' - The lady was in full flush .of young; womanhood, not more than twenty years of age ; tall, dignified and su perbly developed; with grand blue eyes, gentle and brilliant-; massy locks of a deep brown that seemed jet black by the fire light, and a face and form of rare and dazzling loveliness, pervaded by an expression of the purest ingenuousness and benevo lence. Rosetta gazed for an instant iipon - this vision of heavenly beauty as.'if entranced, and then springing tojhpfr feet exclaimed: “Viola Hartly !” •* “lam Viola Hartly,” said the lady, in a tone of softened wonder at being. addressed by name by a stranger. — I am happy to have been of service to you, my dear friend. You are too weak to go home —remain here till morning.” “Is this your house?” asked Ro setta, in a trembling voice. “No —but the Jiouse of a dear friend, Miss Allison, who will rejoice, as I do, to be of service to you,” re plied Viola. “Os service to me /" exclaimed the haughty and mortified Rosetta. — “ Viola Hartly can never be of any service to Rosetta Amar. I would rather have died upon the street than have had this mortification. Come, Annette, let us go home, or I shall go mad with shame.” “My dear child,” began Annette, as Viola drew back from Rosetta’s flashing eyesand contemptuous gesture. “ I say come, before 1 die of shame ! To be found in the street at night is bad enough—but to be found by Viola Hartly ! Come!” said Rosetta, drag ging Annette away, and flashing back Viola’s astonishment with glances of jealous hate. “ I know not, young lady, why you address such words and looks to me.” Said Viola, growing cold arid Stately as hr insulted queens “but hope ther* is some greet mistake.” u “There is no mistake ib my feel ings towards you , Viola llartly. For all your wealth and station, I think myself not at all happy m having madeyour acquaintance.” “You have not made my acquain tance,” retorted the insulted Viola, with calm dignity, as Rosetta left the house with the bewildered Annette, who began to expect that the end of the night's adventures would he a vol cano or an earthquake—perhaps a deluge*. ’ her tSrtgue would Itave rattled all ttye way home, if Rosetta had opened her lips, but Rosetta said not a word, isid honest Annette was one of those Juniable dames who become muter <P&n migfljc-.when no one replies to jhem. , vUpon reaching her father’s house, Rtfcetta dismissed Annette to bed, and retiring to her room locked herself in. But not to sleep for she had not watned Victor St. John of the im pending danger, and her resolution stronger as obstacles rose to oppise her. 7. Annette retired to her bed, mutter ing k> her uneasy pillow : “After air, I have discovered noth- those spoons.” Chapter vt. W-.SIIE PORTRAITS. -” As tfoor clanged alter the pre cipitate- departure of Annette and Ro setta; -Iftjiiihto sprang from the necro mantic recess and hurrfed to the pros trate aijd senseless Mario, who lay as he had fiflobi Apparently in the rigid embrace-#f death. “ Mario !”' Cried Benditto, raising the ghastly head, and staring upon the half-opened eyes. “Mario! speak ! What means this?” But Mario remained in the death like stupor, until Benditto, alarmed by the obstinacy.-of the fit, and knowing j the great age of the sufferer, sprang into the h ill and struck a gong sus pended against the wall. Even white, its blare of dissonance erful iftan“mtjfently of Oriental ex traction, w’ljth strongly m irked fea tures, rtito the Chamber of Oracles; where he found Benditto supporting Mario’s head upbn his bos*, otn, and pressing kisses 6f unmistaka ble affection upon the pallid brow and withered cheeks. Benditto made a few rapid gestures and the servant, for si C v t was his sta tion, lifted Mario in his stout arms and bore him to- the portrait chamber. There he placed the el 1 man upon a luxurious divan, and hastened away. He returned immediately with a small chest of medicines which he presented to BVuditto selected a diminutive vial containing ;in umber colored liquid, from’which he lpt fall a few drops upon Mario’s lips. The effect was almost instantaneous. Mario heaved a deep drawn sigh and said i • :. “ Enough! My* body and not my ’mind hds'heen paralyzed, Benditto. it was a terrible shock, Benditto, and my heart became *as ice as I gazed upon her;” “A ad wherefore, Mario? Why should the face of- Rosetta, the wine seller’s, daughter,, so appall you?” “ Because it was. as cue sudden see . ing of'ffneliving \vi««S%e have thought rieudripiriiy years ago, and believed hurie,d- : m the earth,” replied Mario, ;srweeplqg his hands, which.still trem lriedf“»ci 083 his eyes. “ Yes, it was Ih«r living image.” t “Os whom do you speak ?” asked Benditto, in a tone of profound res pect which did not conceal his wonder. ■; “ Let me whisper it to you—but no —we have rio listener, for Yadak has retired. She is the living image of that portrait at the same age.” Mario pointed to the portrait of the Italian girl, which was still unveiled. Benditto started quickly but recover ing said: “1 cannot think but your imagina tion lias led you astray. Surely I would have noticed it, for 1 have of ten gazed admiringly upon the beauty of the wine-seller's daughter. I cau trace no lesemblance.” “It is very natural, Benditto. I was the lather of the Italian girl and saw muqh more of her, and every ex pression of the .face, than you could have done.” “ That is very tTue,” replied Benditto, moodily. “ why uie J cU st '*l so powerfully excited by a mere resem blance?” Because 1 believe,” said Mario, ristn of and placing his hand upon the portrait of the child, “ that Rusetta is the original of this portrait, grown al most to womanhood !” Benditto daggered as if he had sud- | denly received a heavy blow upon his “I reptSf’lt,” exclaimed Mario, firmly- “i-assert that Rosetta is my gran<l-child'.r> “ Impossible!’’ cried Benditto, With an expression that seemed to doubt Mario’s sanity. “ Remember how Paul, the wine-seller, worships her. “And did not every body worship her t" cried Mario, pointing again at the Italian girl’s picture. “ Wasthere not a time when no man, woman or child could pass her without a word of admiration—without murmuring bles sings upon- her glorious beauty ?” “ Say ho more ! Or you will drivw me ntwd,” cried Benditto. “Who Can appreciate what she wat with greater anguish than I?” “ Pardon me, my Benditto,” said Mario, gently. “ You have lost more than I.” • “ Not so, Mario—but it is folly to attempt to sum up our individual mis eries. Hark !—the clock strikes nine —in another hour Victor St. John will be here. Shall he pass from here again, Mario ?” “If he proves not to he Henri Le Grand, our vehgeance must not fall upon him, and unless such proof shall be as clear to my mind as established fact, Benditto, we must not harm him.” “ The proof will be clearly set forth,” said Benditto; “unless he is a demon so heartless and inhuman, so Utterly depraved that his sins of youth shill seem as virtues to him. Yet, if it should so happen that your mind remained unsatisfied, Mario, will you suffer him, though a stranger to us, to to go free to destroy the happiness of Rosetta ?” Mario's eyes flashed fire, and he grasped Benditto’s hand eagerly, say ing; “ His fate is sealed, Benditto ! For if he is not Henri Le Grand he is as great a villain, let him bear what name he may. Can you believe that I shall sufi'er him to injure Rosetta, whom I firmly believe to be my lost grand child ?” “ And if Rosetta should prove to be that grand child—what then ?” “ The question staggers, Benditto,’’ ; The,old men-gazed into each otber'sV e :* a 'LT"sn?T¥roves to be your grand child, and Victor St. John proves to*| be Henri Le Grand our vengeance 1 will deprive her of lover and father at i one blow !” “ Sttch a father ! Such a lover !” ( exclaimed Mario fiercely. “He must j die here this night. You do notspeak, Benditto?” Behditto was plunged in gloomy thought, and paced the floor uneasily. “ Speak Benditto. You are hesi tating. Have I not often told you, that when the time should come to strike this blow, you would be found wanting.” “ Not from any p’.ty to him,” ex claimed Benditto, with a vehemence so sjai tling that Mario recoiled. “ I pause not for pity for him but from pity for her , if either your or my be lief should be true.” “ Ah, I was wrong to allow you to know of my belief,” said Mario. “ Though she will suffer no loss in ei ther case.” Benditto gazed mournfully upon the picture of the Italian girl and said: “ Rosetta is a woman and loves. She whose image is there could tell you, and her destiny must teach you that when such a woman loves, her love is a frenzy which makes the lover a god until his perfidy proves him a demon. Mario, whoever that girl may be—rand I caunot dream that she is your grand-child—l pity her if she shall live, thinking she has lost a noble heart by cruel fate ; or if she shall live, to be crushed by learning his baseness ” “ lie shall never harm her,” ex claimed Mario, “and I shall teach her how black a villain lie was and so lead her to hate him and rejoice to learn that he is dead. But that Vic tor St. John is her father I do not be lieve ; and if he is, she shall never know it.” “ You are too hasty is believing that she is your grand child, Mario. You have leaped to the conclusion with no grounds to go upon, save what seems to you a most extraordinary re semblance —a resemblance which I cannot trace, and surely I should find such resemblance by instinct—for if she is your grand child, am I not of closer kin ?” Mario rang a small hand-bell, and the attendant, Yadak appeared. “ Bring me my box of water-col ors,” said Mario. “ It is here,” said Yadak, who was taught to reply in words when words were spoken, though in the profession of fortune-telfiug it was ever his part to play the mute. lie went to a small secretary and opening it gave Mario a box of paints. Mario prepared a brush for use, and then said to Benditto,as be approached the picture of the Italian girl: “ Avert? your eyes for a moment un til I shall have-made a change in this portrait-** “ Willingly,” said Benditto, as he paced the floor. “ Now look,” cried Mario, after working upon the picture for several moments, during which he had changed the entire expression of the features by a skillful use of the painter’s art. Benditto raised his eyes to the pic ture. The features were distorted with passion, the complexion pale as paper, the locks disheveled, the brews drawn from their delicate arching into a frown. “It is Rosetta—as she looked when she cried, ‘ Tell toe! Does be love Viola !’ ” exclaimed Benditto, recoil ing in dismay. “ Great Heaven, Ro setta is—” “My grandchild!” Cried Mario, ere Benditto could articulate another word. “ I have seen the Italian girl in the same paroxysm of passion—it was not many years ago when I threatened her with a Convent, and her lover with death if I should hear they met again- And is it not strange that I have never seen that lover?” “ You have seen him, but ignor antly,” said Benditto. “ You will see him to-night, and I will prove Victor St, John to be he. But erase that resemblance—l do not like to see the portrait so disfigured.” Mario shook nis head mournfully, and asked; “ You cannot love Rosetta ?” “ I can love nothing—have I not lost all ?—Rosetta can be nothing to me unless— ’’ lie paused, “ Go on,” said Mario. “ Unless Paul Amar should say to you, ‘ Rosetta is not ray child ’—and that is an impossibility, for Paul Amar lives in the light of her eyes.” Benditto was playing a difficult part, for his breast heaved, and his breath was short and thick as he spoke. Mario took a sponge from Yadak’s hand and quickly restored the beauty of the disfigured portrait. “ For the time,” said he, after veil* . ting the three pictures, “ let tis drop this paiafal subject, and speak of the 'must confess that I know nothing of it.” Before Benditto could reply, the clamor of the braeenknocker sounded through the house. “ Go show the Visitor to the ohdm ber of oracles,” said Mario to Yadak. The attendant departed and Mario continued: “ This inscription puzzles toe Ben ditto. We must learn its meaning, and why it is inscribed upon our door. For we, who pretend to read hidden things, should know if aught threat ens us.” * ‘ Very true, Mario. I have noticed the mysterious inscription during the last few days* and the thoiight now occurs to me that ‘ B. £ is not in scribed upon the houses of the poor.” “Ah ! Then why upon ours ?” ask ed Mario. “ Because Benditto is believed to be a very rich miser as well as a cunning fortune-teller.” “ So-so. But why is the inscrip tion found in the drinking saloon of Paul Amar, who cap not be very rich, Benditto?" “If not in gold, he is very wealthy in the beauty «f Rosetta,” replied Benditto. Mario leaped to his feet, with a sti fled cry of horror. - “ Then,” said he, in a deep whisper, “ you think the inscription cannot be fouud upon houses which do not be long to the rich, or to those who have beautiful daughters?” “ You have said it. I believe it,” replied Benditto, gravely. “ When a plague rages in a city men mark the doors of infected houses that passers-by may avoid their contaminating vicin ity. When a great plot is growing to bloody completion the conspirators ecretly mark their intended booty and victims. The street door grated upon its hinges, and Mario made a gesture which warned Benditto to listen. Both approached the door of the portrait chamber and leaned forward , into the hall so ns to harken to the voice of the visitor below. “Is this the house of Benditto, the fortune-teller ?” were the first words. No doubt Yadak, playing the part of a mute, signified in gesture that it was; for he was immediately heard leading the visitor into the chamber of oracl^R. “It is Pierre Rivart,” whispered Benditto. “ Paul Amar Jpst -hats returned to the salogg. ana given InS bar-tender an' hour of leisure. I will attend to him. Like most villains? he is superstitious.” Benditto left the apartment as Ya dak appeared from below, and was soon in the presence of Pierre Rivart. “ He is frightened,” thought Ben ditto, as he noticed the ill-eoneealed agitation of ‘ the young man. “Be seated," said he aloud, “ Speak boldly* what do JOH e ?” [to be dowuuata at os» Vsxz.] NO. 13.