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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.