Newspaper Page Text
hlu; llwttgia
YOL. I.
Stye Georgia Weekly,
DEVOTED TO
Literature and General Information,
WM. HENRY RECK,
Editor and Proprietor.
FPBLISRCD EVEEY WEDNESDAY, BY
.PECK: & EIN ES »
TERMS, ISTAKiIbLY IK ADTABCB I
On* copy, per annum - $2.00
Single.copies,.... ® cents.
so*Advertisement* inserted at $1 a square
of iJ lines, for one insertion, and 50 cents for
• siic&fabseqnent insertion. A liberal deduction
made to those Who advertise by the year.
I DID ITT KNOW WHAT HE IIIANT.
He. gave me a knife, one day at school,
Four bladed, the handle of pearl;
And great black words on the wrapper said,
’ “For the darlingest little girl.”
{ was glad 1 G yes, yet the crimson blood
To my young cheek came and went,
And my heart thnmped wonderously pit-a-pat,
But [ didn’t know what it meant.
One night he said I mast jump on a sled,
For the snow was falling fast;
I was half afraid, but he coaxed and cOaxtd,
And he got rat on at last,
Laughing and chatting in merry glee,
To my home bis course be bent,
And my sisters looked at each other atid smiled,
But I didn't know what it meant
The years passed on, and they touched his eye,
With a shadow of deeper blue;
They gave to his brow a manl er grace—
To hi* cbeek a swarthier hue.
We stood by the dreamily rippling brook,
When the day was almost spent,
His whispers were as soft as the lullaby,
And—now I know what he mehntl
*THE WINE-SELLER’S DAUGHTER,
*>*
THE NIGHT BEtC&E THE
BATTX& 07 NEW (IRL3AHS.
»T WILLIAM HENRY PECK.
Author of 11 the Brother's Vengeance ” 11 Vir
. gu»i& Gleneairef u Saul, ifti RcneyaAef
utr he Mocloroan,” 11 The Red Dwarf. 1
w The Family Doom 11 “ The
Black Phantom. 11 “ tht
*5 Corsica A” “Blobs"
<£«., <£«., rf*.
COPYRIGHT SECURED.
“ Fortune,” replied Pierre, boldly,
as he recovered from his trepidation,
“ 1 wish, to know how I may obtain
nr
“By industry, honesty and perse
verance,” replied Benditto.
Pierre laughed sneeringly, and
placed a small golden coin upon the
table, saying:
“AH rich men pretend that
have gained their wealth in that pious
and virtuous manner; but I doubt it.
Besides, I may live a thousand years
and still be poor if I have no surer
means.”
“ Why do you place that coin ug@n
the table,” demanded Benditto.
“ Gold creates gold,” replied Pierre,
“ Take it and tell me how I may be
come suddenly rich.”
Yon ask an impossibility,” said
Benditto. “No man becomes sud
denly rich, unless by marriage, or in
heritance.”
“ Pierre’s eyes flashed with joy and
he asked:
“ Is it my fate to so become rich ?”
“ Not if you steal, lie and echeme,”
replied Benditto. “ Bobbery leads to
murder.”
“ You dare accuse me of such base
ness!” cried Pierre, springing to his
feet.
“ Answer me, young man,” said
Benditto, fixing his eyes sternly npon
Pierre’s pale face. “ When did Paul
Amar give you this coin.”
“That coin? He does not give me
gold—he is miserly to all, save to his
daughter Rosetta. I have had that
coin—why—at least five years,” stam
mered Pierre.
“ I gave this coin to Paul Amar not
three—not two hours ago,” said Ben
ditto. “ I recognise the date, 1783,
and because I marked it with a secret
stamp—‘B. & B.’ ”
“ Ah—l have made a great mis
take,” exclaimed Pierre, drawing an
other coin from his pocket—there—
that is the one I have had five years.
You see—”
“ That you are lying," said Ben
ditto, as he examined the second coin.
“ You’re an old man, or I would
thrash you soundly for your insults,”
cried Pierre. “ What proof have
you that I am lying ?”
“ You say you have had this coin
five years?” asked Benditto, holding
up the second piece.
“ I will swear to it. But what is
that tc you ? I came here to ask ques
tions and to pay for civil answers. You
use my coming to insult me.”
“ What year is this, young man ?”
“ What year ? 1815,” replied
Pierre.
“This coin bears date 1814,” said
Benditto. “It is but one year old.”
“If you find fault with it give it to
me, old man. I was a fool to come
Jtkteir to Southern a# feral Information,
here—l should have gone on about my
business— here, give me the gold.”
“ It seems to me you have too'much
gold to come by it honestly,” said
Benditto, paying no attention to
Pierre’s outstretched hand.
“ That is Uohe of your business,”
cried Pierre fiercely. “ Give me the
coins. You said that you marked one
of them—you lied, old man, for that
coin Was marked in my presence this
day.”
“ Was it ? And what does ‘B. &
B.’ mean?”
“ What is that to yoji I Give me
the coins—what a fool I was to come
here—give me the coins, or, old thief.
I’ll take them.”
“Take them,” said Benditto, tossing
the coins upon the table. “And now
let me warn you, yotlng man. You
have a kind hearted uncle; who,
though somewhat avaricious, remem
bers that it is his duty to give shelter
and aid to the child of his sister.
You came here to me prompted by a
whim, born in your belief in my power
to read the future. By your coming
1 have learned that which I have sus
pected from the Very first time I saw
your face in the drinking saloon.
You are dishonest, treacherous and a
liar. lam old, and speak plainly.—
What game is this you are playing ?
Whatever it is stop at once. Go home
and strive to be honest, Pierre Rivarti
You are not twenty years of age, but
yott are old in evil.”
“Many thanks for your sertnoh,”
sneered Pierre, as he pocketed his
gold. “I think you are a Jesuit
turned fortune-teller—go back to the
old trade and try to convert heathen.
I will remember you in my prayers,
but Whether those prayers shall beg
blessihgs or ask curses I leave you to
judge. Show me out, old impostor—
what a fool I was to think you could
tell me anything I do not khow al-.
ready.”
“ Go—tread carefully young man, 1 ”
said Benditto, as he closed the street!
door upoh his chance visitor.
“ Yadak,” he continued, as he met
the attendant it the hall.” Follow
that young man Be his invisible
shadow and report all you near ana
see.”
Yadak hastened away, and was
soon upon the path of Pierre Rivart.
Benditto returned to Mario in the
portrait dhamberi
“Look at that,” said he, giving
Mario a small piece of wax.
“It is an impression of the coin
which bore the strange inscription,”
remarked Mario, as he examined the
wax.
“ And doubtless the coin is Pierre
Rivart’s passport among the conspira
tors—for doubtless there is a conspir
acy,” said Benditto. “ Come let tis
search for a coin in our treasury, of
the same date.”
“ And having found it, what then ?”
asked Mario.
“ I, oryou, will use it as a passport,
after inscribing ‘B. & B.’ upon it.”
replied Benditto. “I have changed
my mind—we must let Victor St.
John pass from here alive—though
he should prove to he Henri Le-
Grand.”
“I Understand,” said Mario. “We
are to follow him to discover more
villriny. We will look in our treas
ury.”
The old men left the portrait
chamber.
CHAPTER Vn.
THE ABDUCTION.
Benditto and Mario left the portrait
chamber and proceeded to a small
apartment, the bed-chamber of the
former.
The room, though small, was more
like a lady’s boudoir than the bed
chamber of an old man; and its fur
niture was of.the same magnificent
suit as that which garnished the sa
loon of portraits. That delicate air
only to be found in the elegant ap
pointments of some fair beauty, or
lady of refined taste, pervaded the
appartment, and the rich, deep, carpet
of velvet, gave back no echo to the
tread of the old men.
Yet this was Benditto’s bed chamber.
Gazing around upon the scene one
would have said, that the delicate
hand and taste of woman had left
their gentle traces Throughout; but no
person inhabited the house of the for
tune-teller save Benditto, Mario and
Yadak —a fortune-teller, a wizard and
a pretended mute.
After entering the room Benditto
opened a small door inbedded in the
wall, and so concealed as to be unex
pected of existence. From the little
recess within he drew three steel
bound caskets. Two were filled with
golden coin, the other with jewels.
Rumor had not lied. Benditto was
rich, but Benditto was not a miser.
Having placed the impression before
them, the old men each took a casket
of coin and began to search for a/*?
simile of that which Pierre first
GREENVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 8, 1861.
given to Benditto—Spanish, ahd dated
1783.
While they are so engaged let Us
return to Viola Hartly.
After the departure of Rosetta
Viola dismissed the wondering ser
vants to their rooms, and retired to.,
the apartment occupied by Mrs. Alli
son, the mother of the young lady
whose urgent note had summoned
Viola from her home.
Harriet Allison was a timid and
gentle girl of an exceedingly nervous
temperament, far different from the
courageous natures of her father and
brother, who were then with Jackson’s
army. When Annette clamored at
the door Harriet, already greatly ex
cited by the serious illness of her
mother, was so alarmed as to be inca
pable of moving hahd or foot, while
the braver Viola sprang to ascertain
the cause of alarm, and armed herself
to meet danger by snatching a car
bine from the stack of arms, provided
by the absent father and brother for
the defence of the household.
When Viola returned to the cham
ber of the invalid she found Harriet
soothing the fears of her sick mother;
as one of the servants had told of the
cause of the disturbance.
“Ah, Viola,” said Harriet, “lam
glad you have returned. Mother has
taken an idea that Packenham’s army
has attacked the city, and is half dead
with fright—indeed I am but little
better. Had las much courage in
my whole body as you have in your
little finger; Viola; I would be a he
roine,” . , ...
“ PefhdpS I was as much frightened
as yoti were; Harriet,” said "Viola, an
she drew near to the bed-side. Nor
I thought a worse calamity If-’
enham’s troops was upon "lia/-
“ You refer to that dreadfdCrutriSfr!
of a conspiracy td«ack th£ v cUy, f ’- h'iy.
marked Mrs. Allison. “ Alfc'-me 1 I;
have - often pored over history arid felt
a str'arige delight in reading of war
and sieges, but I little thought it
would be my destiny to be in the.
midst of such cruel alarms. Would
that myliusband and eon were here.”.
wiTI repuTJe trie toe, Tepirea YToJSy
“ and I have little fear for the result.
Even should Packenham gain the vic
tory, I do’not think the city will suff.-r
as many suppose.”
“ Ah, Viola,” cried Harriet, “ you
do not know what British soldiers are
in the flash and rage, of victory.
You know our friend, Mrs.-Blank, has
a wounded English officer at her
house—he was captured a few days
ago. Mrs. Blank, asked him this
morning if he thought there would be
any injury done to the women of New
Orleans should the British gain the
city. He hesitated for a time, and
then said: ‘ Madam , I advise you
to be prepared for instant flight after
Gen. JPackenham’B victory—l cannot
answer for the humanity of our
troops!’ ( A fact.) Think of that
warning, dear Viola.
“It is time to give the medicine to
your mother,” said Viola, wishing to
change the conversation, which was
becoming terrifying to the invalid.
A cry of dismay escaped her, as she
glanced towards the table where the
the medicine had been. The tahle
was overturned, and the medicine lost
upon the floor.
“ What shall we do ?” said Harriet.
“ The doctor said the medicine must
be given every half hour until morn
ing—and now there is none in the
house.”
“ Fortunately we have the prescrip
tion,” replied Viola; “and as the
drug store is not far off we will send
one of the servants for it.”
“ I fear you cannot persuade one
of them to leave the house,” said
Harriet. They are afraid of the
patrol.”
“And we have not the password,”
remarked Viola. “I must go my
self.”
“ You 1 Oh, Viola!” exclaimed
Harriet. “ The patrol will arrest you
—-you know they arrest everybody
now that has not the countersign.
Ah, what shall we do ? Oh that
father or brother would come!”
The invalid, who heard nothing of
all this, seemed in great pain, and
moaned continually.
“ I must go, dear Harriet,” said
Viola, though pale as she thought of
the dangers of the street. “ See in
what pain your dear mother is—and
the medicine has had such a soothing
effect —she was certainly improving be
fore this late alarm at the door. No,
I will go alone, Harriet,” she contin
tinued, as Harriet arose to accompany
her. “ You must not leave your
mother. Do not be dlarmed; I think
the patrol, if I meet them, will not
detain the daughter of Col. Hartly—
and now I think of it I heard my
father give the password as we came
here after the accident to the carriage.
It is ‘ Chalmette.’ Before Igo tell
iSae—do you know any one named Eo*
setta Amar?”
“Rosetta, the Wine-Seller’s Daugh
ter?” exclaimed Harriett
“ That is the person, do you know
her?”
“ I have heard of her—she is the
belle of her circle, and her father is
fatnous for his love of her and for his
pitde of her beauty.”
“ Yes, she is very beautiful,” said
Viola, as she threw on her cloak.
“And muelt admired by a discarded
admirer of yours,” continued Har
riet.
- “ Ah, whom can you mean ?” asked
Viola.
“ Captain St. John—at least I have
often heard him praise Rosetta’s
charms,” answered Harriet. “You
know Captain St. John thinks he is a
great lady-killer, and is always boast
ing of his triumphs.”
“He has never dared to boast of
such to me,” said Viola, haughtily.
“ Because he hoped to win your
heart, Viola. It would be poor policy
in a lover to boast to one lady of hav
ing stolen the heart of another,” re
plied Harriet, smiling. “Os Rosetta
he has never said more than that she
adored him.”
“Ah, indeed!” exclaimed Viola,
and then thought—“ Poor Rosetta,
she loves Capt. St. John, has heard
that absurd report that I loved him,
and is jealous of me. Yes, that ac
counts for her strange conduct; and
in truth her pride must have been
much enraged—still, I think she was
rather spiteful.”
f Be Very, very careful of yourself,
my. dear Viola, said Harriet, as she
parted with the lovely girl at the
Titfni' ddor. “My brother Henry
ttJin»ever forgive me should anything
■liap'pfn to you.”
*v •'V'Gtve -him that for me, Hattie, and
hfei'-will be consoled;” replied Viola
kissing Harriet, t 0... hide her own
■ blushes. “ I shall be back within ten
minutes. Return to your mother.”
“ Stay—one of the servants shall
go with you—see how dark and dis
mal the street is, “ exclaiikijf' the
timid Harriet peeping forth into the'
night. *«|aße!' \ •
Hartly will return With you.”
“ Come Jane, I feel braver / for
your valiant protection,” laughed
Viola, as she sprang into the darkness,
with the frightened and trembling
Jane clinging to her Cloak.
The pharmacy towards which she
directed her steps was not far from
the house of Gen. Allison, but upon
reaching it she found no one present
save a lad, whose knowledge of medi
cines was extensive in the taking but
small in the compounding thereof.
“Where is the druggist?” asked
Viola, of this juvenile anatomy.
“ With Gen. Jackson a fightin’ of
the British,” replied the weazen faced
boy. “He had to go —and he was
so skeered that he loaded his pistols
with worm lozengers and primed ’em
"with tooth-powder.”
“ How far is it to the nearest drug
store ?” continued Viola.
“Mor’n half a mile,” replied the
irreverent apprentice, and as his
thoughts continued to run after his
courageous master he added: “He
was so skeered that he carried off the
scabbard and left the sword—though
its my opinion that the British ’ll get
as nigh one as ’tother.”
“ Will you please direct me to the
shortest way to the nearest drug
store ?” asked Viola; and instantly,
regretted the question had been spo
ken so loud, as she turned and saw an
evil-eyed, illdooking man peering in
upon her from the street.
This black-bearded fellow was he
whom Paul had addressed as Carlos
in the drinking saloon.
Viola had scarcely caught sight of
him than he vanished, as Jane, the
servant whispered to the young lady;
“ That’s the man as scribed them
letters, ‘B. & B.’ on our gate this
mprnin’.”
“ Do you know who that man was ?”
inquired Viola of the lad, as he ac
companied her to the door to direct
her on her way,
“ 1 didn’t see him mor’n a second,”
replied he, “ but I think it was a
hard customer they call Carlos the
Spaniard—they say he was one of
LaFitte’s smugglers or pirates—l
would not like to meet him alone at
night, nor in the wooda either if he
thought I had a pistareen in my
pocket,”
He then pointed out the direction
Viola should go, and returned to his
seat behind the counter.
Viola felt her heart sink as she
again entered the dismally lighted
street, and her attendant begged her
to hasten home.
“No,” replied the noble girl," it
is very probable that the life of Mrs.
Allison depends upon taking the med
icine, and I feel that it is my duty to
get it if possible, even if I must seek
•very pharmacy in the city.”
So they walked on, a voiding the
darkest streets, and trembling as they j
now and then passed some black-look
ing alley-entrance. But they reached
the desired spot without molestation,
and having received the needed medi
cine started on the return.
“ It is not very late,” thought Vio
la, as she heard a clock striking nine,
“ and we shall soon be laughing at
our terrors. Still, it seems later than
nine.”
They had not gone fat when a
lampless carriage, driven at great
speed, dashed out from a dark street
and wheeled into that along which
they were going. But after proceed
ing a few yards beyond them the I
horses were checked into a walk, and
the vehicle rolled on at no greater
speed than that of the hasty feet of
Viola and her attendant.
This circumstance gave much cour
age to Viola, who thought its presence
would be a guard from violence, if in
deed any such thing was intended.
Still she marvelled that they had met
no patrol during that long walk.
At length, when they were half
way home, and at a spot when the
street was utterly dark the carriage
stopped near the curbstone of the
pavement upon which Viola was walk
ing, and she heard the driver ex
claim :
“Well, I see ho chance of getting
a fare this night—confound the war
that shuts the theatres, the saloons
and even the churches. I think I
will drive to the stable, and then to
bedi”
The driver seemed to be turning
his horses as if to go down the cross
street, when Viola, alarmed by a shrill
whistle not far behind her called out
to fiim, though scarcely visible i
“My good man! Is your carriage
disengaged ? Is it empty ?
“ That has been its luck all this
week,” replied the driver, checking
his horses until Viola came up. “ Can
I be of any service to yon, madam ?"
“Oh, yes,” exclaimed Viola, re
joiced' to thmk that a shelter from
I danger was at band, for the shrill
[.whistle was repeated again and again,
SgFded streets. “ Will you take qjs to
Gen. Allison’s ?”
“ I will drive you wherever you de
sire,” said the driver, as he scrambled
to the ground and opened the car
riage door. “ This way, madam—it
is very dark.”
“ Come, Jane,” said Viola, as she
sprang into the carriage. “ Make
haste!”
But the door was slammed to with
a sudden crash, Jane was knocked
down by someone who rushed out
from the darkness, and before Viola
could comprehend her situation she
heard the lash as it slashed the horses
which bounded away at break-neck
speed.
“Oh Heaven!” cried Viola, clap-
Apg her hands in terror ; “ the driver
tins been attacked! and poor Jane—
what will become of her ! lam re
joiced at my own escape, but my heart
bleeds for poor Jane.”
But as the horses continued to dash
on as if running away, anew fear
seized her mind, until she noticed that
the lash was mercilessly applied.
“ Why does he drive so furiously !”
thought she. “We shall be dashed to
pieces!”
She strove to let down the glass
windows, but they were as firm as
steel. She broke the glass with her
.hand wrapped in her cloak, and cried
but:
" Stop, driver! We are long since
past Gen. Allison’s! Stop—we shall
be killed.”
A loud and brutal laugh was the on
ly reply, the horses dashed on and
suddenly thundered into a dark and
narrow street.
That cold and mocking laugh
chilled Viola to the marrow. She
had heard it once before. It was but
two days since she had heard the
same fiendish laugh, as with her father
she passed a drinking saloon, a laugh
so reckless, triumphant and rakish
that she had involuntarily glanced into
the saloon.
And :.ow in the carriage Viola
Hartly grew ashy white with a terrible
suspicion, as she heard that laugh
again, and remembered that in the
laugher of the drinking saloon she had
recognized Captain Victor St. John!
Great Heaven ! Could it be possible
that Victor St. John was the driver of
the carriage 1 But the driver whom
she had addressed was not St. John.
Then she recollected that as she
sprang into the vehicle someone
leaped upon the driver's Seat 1 Could
it be possible that she was the victim
of a plot ? Then she recalled the
fierce and demon-like glare of the
eyes that had stared at her when in
the first pharmacy, and it Sashed upon
her mind that the driver who had
mourned his ill-luck was that dread
ful man, that Carlos, that pirate!
“ Oh, it oannot hs, i* cannot be,”
NO. 14.
she cried, as if «otfae oh* was near.
“Capt. St. John cannot botch a
base, bad man.”
But if it were tree that Captain St.
John was lashing those maddened an
imals to swifter paile—waa the driver,
the horrible laugher—what then 1
Viola was brave and resolute by
nature; she could t&eet danger half
way when it menaced her in tangible
shape, and could steel her nerves to
face great suffering without a mUrraur
—bat not sack danger, not such a fate
as that which threatened her if Victor
St. John was on the driver’s seat and
knew that Viola Hartly was ie the
carriage.
Half crazed by the thought, she
thrust her head froth the broken win
dow and shrieked for help. She
pealed shriek after shriek upon the
damp night air; but the hcarets, safe
within their houses, did no more than
say:
'Tis some runaway carriage— ‘we
can do nothing but pity.”
“May Heaven help me !” murmur
ed Viola, sinking back upon the heat.
She did not swoon ; a strong end
courageous nature like hers could not
swoon, but nerved itself to dare and
encounter the worst.
The carriage suddenly drew tip be
fore a house—of which Viola could
fofm bo idea, save that it was dark and
deserted—after a drive that seemed
to her an age, though in fact it had
not lasted ten minutes.
The unknown driver leaped t(J the
ground, whistled sharply, the Same
shrill whistle that had alarmCd Viola
when with Jane, and the door of the
carriage was torn open.
“ Your servant, Miss Viola Hartly/'
said the driver, with an audible sneer,
and Yiola knew that her abdtictcr was
Captain Victor St. John 1
[to bs continued in out next ]
* n ' mmm -»|Q »(» .11 1 — .a, 1
The Battle of Agibcobri;
Like so many in those ages, was one
of foot against horse, of the English
yeomen against the French knight.
man. The Flemish townsfolk fought
in serried phalanx, covered by a for
est of pikes; whereas, fbe French
knights, in heavy armor and on heavy
horses charged, and if the charge
succeeded the battle wak won. The
English kept no such close array, and
used no long pikes i they trusted first
to the arrows, and then to the use of
short weapons in close combat. Each
man was almost as formidable alone
as in rank. Even a successful charge
did not rout them, whilst it often
proved fatal, as at Poitiers, to those
who made it, since the French could
not turn their heavy horses in the
combat, as MonstrelCtti informs rs, nor
retreat and rally to renew the fights
Hence, dtft-ing the wars of Dugnesclin
and the Black Prince, the French
knights placed themselves on a level
with the English yeoman, and demand
ed to fight on foot. There was 1u
France, however, no exercise or habit
for fighting thus* Tournaments con
tinued ; military science and training
were confined to the mounted gentle
man, who had efeft increased the
weight and size of his armor ; he was
thus the more unfitted by a thirty
years peace, at least with England, to
fight a pedestrian battle, that is, to
dismount and break his lance in two to
meet his English foe. (jn foot, and
clothed in steel, his two-headed sword
or his axe was hirf best weapons.
But, instead of standing in open rank
to wield this, as would have been
the case had he had the least practice
or experience insO fightiftg, the French
were ranged together elbow to elbow,
as if they were armed with pikes.
The knight was neither allowed to
charge on horseback, as suited his
rank and his natural impetuosity, and
which, if at timers as at
Nicopolis, and in engagements with the
English had still admirably succeeded
against the Flemings; nor was he per
mitted or instructed to fight, as Du
gnesclin had done, with his sword and
axe. Want of organization, of train
ing and of military skill, want, in fact,
of a government and a head, was then
the cause of the defeat of the French,
as it has been, and as it ever Will be,
the cause of military inferiority. la
War struggles, as in all others, the
amount of. mind employed and infused
into fbe strife is the true and univer
sal source of triumph and success,
M< M. Edwards has been making
some experiments in feeding animals
whose limbs he bad broken, with phos
phate of lime. Out of six rabbits
and ten dogs whose limbs he had bro
ken in the same way, half were fed oft
food mixed with bones, and their
bones united much more rapidly than
those of tits tmphosphated animals.
He thinks that the use in human cases
would be decidedly beneficial.