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MI SC EL L A NE OUS*^__
ruM BLACKWOOD’h MAGAZINE Foil SEPTEMBER.]
THE DUEL.
Spaniards gcnorully Itave a strong, and not un-
j'.urn!, dislike lo see either military or civil uni.
jvmcnis in their country filled by foreigners,
;j.l is rare to find tv foreign officer in I heir regi-
Soim iimes, however,one meets with tlit-m
Sly Roles. On one occasion, during my
ijiilile*. 1 fell in with u hattallion, quartered in an
gnilicant Astrhin village, in which were two
•igners , n Frenchniun and a Pole. The former
jse baptismal name was Victor, was a fine hand-
no voung fellow, well educated, and even ac-
iinplished, whom a love of adventure had indue-
:JMentor the Spanish service. His greatest fault
not uncommon among young French mill-
v men—a headlong, random w ay of talking, es-
v when slightly excited hy wine, or other-
,vnich frequently caused him to wound the
eiings,or give unintentional, but not less real,
fence to liis friends and comrades. If remonstru-
j with on tiie subject when in cool blood, ho ad-
tted the failing, which he would again, however
, into, the very same day perhaps, when heated
.cuii versa lion, or irritated hy the least eonhmlic-
..it, Cyrziuski, the Pole, was of a widely differ*
it character. He was the beau ideal of a veteran
lidier, to which name, although forty years of age.
ve-cnd.twonty years service gave him a fair ti-
e. Tull and powerful in frame, inured to fatigue!
,dskilled in all military exercise,ho was not les
irriblc in the field than gentle and amiable in quar
lie was the best hearted creature I eve
nail although with nothing besides his pay to
ive upon, was ever ready to share his last viol la i
i:lin comrade. By disposition somewhat taciturn
s would sit for hours, his chin resting on his hand,
:id a large German pipe in his mouth, Iisteam
ieconversation, hut rarely taking part in it. He
as still in the prime of his vigor, and although the
liako had worn away the. hair from his temples and
prebend, it still curled thick and short on the top
md back of his bend, while u strong and very light
ilnred mustache contrasted with the dark hue to
hicii Lis line face had been tunned by the suns
nd ruins ol twenty campaigns. The strangest
ling about him was his dialect. It wu9 a mixture
fsunttt half dozen languages, picked up in the vn-
ous services through which he had passed, j
.il no one of which, except his own, could he
leak with any’degree of accuracy. Some how,
juever, he made himself understood ; and, as
JP* Jjt'ning ever offended him, it was often a source of
t amazement to his comrades to laugh at old
Cvrziih-ki’s polyglot idioms.
I was acquainted with one or two officers of the
ittalion, and l determined to remain a couple of
ceks at the village, to repose from the fatigues
:a week’s travelling on a Spanish saddle and over
ietestiblc roads. I soon got acquainted with
.'vrziiiski; we discovered that we had some rnulu-
‘.friends in another country, and an intimacy rap-
• \ensiled. Although the village in which the
uiialion in* quartered was a mere collection of
stages, and , ul nothing to recommend it save the
>?auty of 11» • surrounding scenery, 1 found my time
ss agreeably, that I allowed several days to
utso without thinking of departure. The morn-
is were spent in riding, walking and loangintr,
ill an occasional bout at the foils,or touch at pis-
• shooting ; and in the evening, Cvrzinski, Vic-
the Frenchman, two or three Spanish officers,
dmyself, u«*od generally to meet at the quarters
<uieor< tt: :r of the party, for the suke of conver-
ilioii, and the discussion of a howl of mulled wine.
It was on the eighth evening alter my arrival at
ie village, and we were assembled in the room of
dm Julian N , an officer whom 1 had formerly
at .\l . For three or four days past,
here
■mxgla Jxrartwd
.1. H. S PEbhk & P, THWEATT, Editors.
MILLEDGEVILLK, TUESDAY. OCTOBER 11, 1842.
VOL. XXXIV-jNO. 2.
^ Cyrzineki shook his head, hut made no reply. The
Frenchman, who had been drinking pretty lrooly, but
was by no means drunk, now filled a largo tumbler
with wine, and look it off at a draught.
‘Come .'long, Luis,’ said he to his friend, ‘I want
you to help me, or I shall be all night digging up the
carrion.*
The young Spaniard hesitated, and did not seem half
to nloi it ; but he was accustomed to yield to Victor’s
impetuous character, and they left the room together.
Wo shouted after them to come back, but they paid no
attention to our call ; and supposing it to be a joke of
\ idor’s, and that he had gone off to pass the evening
in the quarters ol some other of his comrades, we
thought no more nl the matter. The conversation took
a new turn. Cyrzniski laid aside his pipe, and becom
ing unusually communicative, told us one or two
strange wild stories ol the fate o f persons who had dis
turbed the repose of the dead. In his native province,
he said, there was a sirong belief, that the man who
dug up a body always met an untimely death ; and that
unless ho made expiation by masses and penance, he
in ver lived lo see the anniversary of the day on which
tin* snrrilegious net had been committed. It was easy
lo perceive that Cvrzinski himself was not altogether
exempt from a bel.ef in these superstitions.
Nearly an hour had elapsed since Victor’s departure,
when there was a loud knocking at the house door, and
a moment after the Frenchman burst into the room,
followed hy Ins comrade, and laughing in a tone of
boisterous, but, it appeared to me, somewhat forced
gayetv.
4 We have got it,* cried he, after being nearly shot
bv our own sentries, who took us lor Carli6t forages, I
believe.*
1 Take that bird of ill-omen,’ continued Victor, who
probably from the effect of the cool air, seemed more
intoxicated than when he left the room ; and he threw
a small bundle at Cyrziuski. The latter, not thinking
what it might be, by a natural movement, held out his
hand and caught it. As lie did so, the bundle unroll
ed itself, and a shirt ot beautiful fine linen, but stained
with blood and earth, dangled from the hand of the
Pole, who immediately let it drop.
4 C'esl une mau raise yla'sun'erie, Monsieur Vic. lord
said Cyrziuski, and I could perceive the slightest pos
sible sparkle of anger in his fine clear blue eye.
4 Comment, one mauvais jdaisaulcrie V cried Vic
tor, who had just drank otl’u bumper, to counteract,
as he said, the effect of the night damps.
4 1 ous lrouvcz,done, mauvaise tout ce que je fats
cc soir. You seem to think that you are to ho a
law giver amongst us, that we are only to do what
you approve of. Is not that the case, Master
Cyrziuski V
To this aecusution, than which there could
not have been a more unfounded one, the Polo
made no answer,nut continued pufiiing at his pipe.
I observed that the whiffs of smoke followed each
other with greater rapidity than usual; but liis
features betrayed no emotion, although the bullying
tone, rather than words, of the Frenchman could not
he otherwise than gulling to him.
'Iieponds, moi done /' siiouted Victor, who had
just drunk enough to be very quarrelsome, and who
was doubly incensed by the calm coolness of
Cyrziuski. ‘Answer me, or by G 1 will
throw my glass in your face !’
Victor was standing opposite the Pole with a
lninrjfl
iculurJ
LE '
* tli “'I
llMPof.
oreten-•]
cl and|
'liat
ror, P s kad been daily arriving from different qua
-ruinour rear, and occupying a strong position,
I which the village was the central and most ad-
n point. Several thousand men were assent-
edin iIjo neighboring hamlets, or bivouacking in
rfulij'l' 1 Ids; while to our front a strong Carlist force
d established their pickets within little more than
nusket shot of ours. Nothing was expected for
io following duy, as both sides were waiting fur-
reinforcements, but an action was decidedly*
uked for the day after the morrow,
oi; were seated, six in number, round n ponder-
wold table of black, worm-eaten nnk, on which
ere placed a large bowl of course, yellowish,earth-
ma re, emitting a most fragrant vapor of spiced
l,:{ \ glasses in number sufficient,Jbut no two of
10 same form or size, a bundle oTexcellent cigars,
lit* conversation ran, as may be supposed, chiefly
1 the movements of troops, and probabilities of an
’preaching eugugment. Tim first bowl was finish-
d. and another brought in, before a deviation was
wde front this topic, by one of tho party relating
m incident that had occurred that morning:
An officer had ridden out from the Carlist lines,
bunted on a superb Andalusian charger, and a-
iiijiionBoused himself by cantering to and fro—not advan-
minedi*l’ ,llfI ’^ 0Wevur , heyoud bis own pickets. Suddenly
couniyl Je horse started at some object on the ground, gave
reflr nnd plunge that nearly unseated his rider,
: e aiinlit^ *hen throwing up his head in tho most npprov-
d style ofstur gazing, started off at a furious in the
"action of the Clmstiuo cump. The officer tried
* arti to pull him in, hut ho was riding with a single
|tcined bridle, and, as ill luck would have it, the lea-
broke. Tho liorso went on at the same trad
his rider keeping his sent, hut nuoblo to con-
him, until within a hundred yurds of the Chris-
r ‘ipicket, when u shot from one of tho sentries
I f, ’ u ght the unlucky officer to the ground. *1 he
f Jr *e instantly stopped, and stood motionless and
^'tfallen by his master, as though conscious of
Raiding Pl *P y niiug the harm he had done. Home men
Wont from tho picket to bring in the animal,
d finding the officer quite dead, a shallow gra
and ho was buried where he had fallen.
« i h'- burial was not long,* said one of tho Spanish
; ats, a young man, and a grout friend of Victor’s.
'/rave was scarce three feet deep, and coffins bc-
* 01 course, out of the question, they just hud him in
P r *»utuJ in his shirt, as though lie hud been going
'Aid that was too much,* cried Victor, 4 when linen
*»*uri'n among our poor follows. It would ben
worthy actio dig tho body up, am! atrip it.’
pw/snid Cyrzinski, gravely, ‘yu bad ting dc.
-fr kw iuut?rto.—ca ydrtc malhcau.*
‘ u, »« do.-., ,t! Monsieur Cyrzmski,’ said the French
•‘’•i who had spoken merely in jest, bin was roused hy
1 f ! Sht appearance of opposition. *Kh bicn! le did
'to'nnjkirtr, ,f I don’t do it then ; and what’s more
w ' ar tlu C irlist rascal's shirt tho next time we g«
10 w hou. What say you to that, mon PolonaisV
.-tiding
Judifon
irfd o f
ruto
'Allions /’ cried Victor, stamping his foot, ini*
pntienily ; dans un instant, ce cera jini.*
Una !—Dos ! cried Julian, with u pause of sec
ond between tho words.
At tho uno tho pistols were raised; at the dos
they fired. Cryzinski’s bonnet de police fell off
his head, with u bullet through it.— His pistol, tho
charge of which hud probably not been well ramm
ed down, flashed in the pan.
At tho same moment, however, to the surprise
of all present, Victor turned half round, and fell
heavily to tho ground. The seconds and Cyr&ins-
ki hurried up to him,and I followed. Tho blood
was flowing from the back of his head. A stray
bullet from the Carlists, who were skirmishing with
our pickets, hud glanced ouer the wall, which ran a
few yards in his rear, a.id given him u fatal wound.
The la it w ords ho hud uttered, 4 Dans un instant
cc cerafmi,’ might have been spoken in a prophetic
spirit. No! a minute elapsed and he was already a
a corpse.
TRUE AND FALSE DIS UNCTIONS.
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
‘They have some claim to the title of exclusives.’
Anna James said to a friend, so loud as to he *
heard hy her father, a man of sterling principle,
united with plain republican ideas of men and things,
lie did not remark upon the sentiment which Anna I
had uttered, hut listened to hear what more would I
be said on the subject.
‘ Yes, they and the Eltons are the only real
aristocratic families now left among us ; and they
stand like noble old forest trees, lowering above
the puny bot-hou.se plants of fashion and pride, that
republicanism has wunned into an unhealthy exis
tence.’
‘How I do admire their dignified manners!
There is so much of deep, calm repose about them.
For this, the Listons are peculiarly remarkable,*
Anna said with anthusiasm.
*1 know many one,* the friend added, ‘who would
give a little finger lo be admitted into their society.
But it is no use. They will never be uble to enter
within their charmed circle.’
‘And why not V asked Mr. James, no longer
able to refrain from speaking, but modifying his
tone of voice, so us not to express surprise at what
he had just heard.
‘Because, they have not come of tilled families ;
they uro not of noble blood.*
‘Indeed !’
Yes. Tho elder Mr. Elton and the elder Mr.
Liston,were both members of noble English families
when they came over to this country. Mrs. Lis
ton was the daughter of Count llardcastle ; and
Mrs. Elton came of a family that stood among the
first in England.
‘And it is because you and I, and many others,
cannot trace back a connection with some titled
family in England, that we arc excluded from flic
society of tho Eltons and Listons, and all who cluim
kindred with them V
‘Certainly.*
‘And it is on account of an assumed and ackrtow.
ledged superiority, that these families are thus ex
clusive?’ pursued Mr. Jumes.
‘Certainly il is,’his daughter said.
‘And do you really think them superior, Anna V
‘'They are, certainly, superior, being much more
highly and honorably connected than any other
families among us. Who else cun boast of having
noble blood in their veins ?*
* Very many, my child,’ the futhei replied, in a
serious tone.
‘I am sure, then, that I do not know of any,*
Anna said.
‘Nor I either,* broke in her friend.
‘But I do, very many.*
‘Name one,father,' the daughter said.
There is Mr. Jones, the hatter. He has noble
blood in his veins.’
Mr. Jones !’ ejaculated Anna, in unfeigned sur
prise.
‘Mr. Jones!* echoed her friend, in like astonish
ment.
‘Yes, Mr. Jones,’ was the father’s calm re-
ply.
From what family did he descend V Anna ask-
ed with rather a strange expression uf face-
‘How do you mean, Anna i*
‘I mean from what noble English family did he
descend ?’
‘From the Joneses, I suppose,* was the simple
reply.
‘Jones—Jones—Jones?’ Anna’s friend said,
musingly. ‘I never heard of un aristocratic family
hy that name.*
*0 yes. There was Sir William Jones,* was
the cool reply. ‘But he didn’t belong to that faini.
ly—lie is of much purer blood.*
‘Indeed ! But how strangely you talk, father, 1
cannot exactly understand you. If Mr. Jones iias
gentle blood in his veins, from whom did he des.
eend 1 In a word, who is he? and what is he ?’
‘He is one of nature’s noblemen, Anna.’
*0 father ! How can you talk so?’ Anna re-
plied, tossing her head half contemptuously.
*1 thought you meant tliut Mr. Jones was connec
ted wills the nubility of England.’
‘O no, Anna, 1 did not mean that. I mount that
he belonged to a much higher und purer class of
men—the nobility of nature.’
. ‘Then he is only plum Mr. Junes, the hatter ?’
•Exactly. And us good a man, mid us much of
a nobleman as the best of the English nobility—or
the titled exclusives of any other country.’
‘You may think so, fattier; but you will find very
few who will agree with you.*
•I should he sorry if your last remark were true,
Anna. But I know that it is not. The common
sense of every one will agree with rne in my posi-
lion.’
‘Not my common sense, lather.*
‘Not your un-common sense, Anna. But to
your common perception of truth. 1 will present
my ease, and I am confident that you will be ou
my side.’
•i doubt it.*
•Wo shall see. You know Mary—she who is
•called the daughter of Mr. Jones ?’
‘Yes. And is she not his daughter ?*
‘No, she is not Mr. Jones* daughter.*
‘Why, I ant sure I always thought that she
was, 1
‘And so do a great many people. Still, it is not
the case.*
■ ‘She is a very good kind of a girl, let her he
: whose daughter she will. But whul were yuu go-
| ingto say about her, father?’
‘What I have to say about her will take rne some
The story is to mo one of deep interest, and
half empty tumbler io his hand; und whethe
it was done intentionally, or whether, in the vehe
mence uf his anger, he involuntarily suited the ac
tion to the word, I cannot say; but as he spoke,
the glass flew across the table, and smashed against
the opposite wall—Cyrziuski receiving pan of the
contents in his face.’
I never saw any thing more truly dignified than
the Polo’s look und manner as he rose from his
..eat, and, wiping the wine slums from his sun burn-
ed lace und mustaches,uddresed Victor, who still
continued standing opposite to lum,with the dogged
look of a man who has done something lo be usham-
ed ot, but bus loo mueli false pride to acknowledge
bis fault.
'Monchert said Cyrzinski, in better French
limn 1 had usually heard him speak, ‘you have
dene a very foolish tiling : you have insulted,
without reason,u man who was a soldier before
you were born. I have tho scars of nine wounds
on my body, und 1 do not fear being taken for a
coward. Huy that you are sorry for what you
have done—there is no degradation in doing so—
und let the thing drop. These gentlemen are our
friends—they will be silent on the subject for your
sake ; for myself I cure uut—Cyrziuski is known
to be no poltroon.
There was u momentary struggle in the French-
man’s breast a between good feeling and false pride.
Unfortunately, the latter prevailed.
‘i huv no doubt of your willingness to receive
upologies,* replied lie, with a sneer ;—‘but 1 Uo not
feel equally disposed to make them.* And, turn
ing on nis heel, he left the room. This unpleasant
incident broke up the party,and we all retired to
our quarters except Cyrziuski, w ho remained a-
lone with Don Julian N .
Before daybreak the next morning the troops
were turned out in case of an attack ; but none oc
curring, ufier being under arms a couple hours,
they wuro allowed io return lo their quarters.—
1 was looking out of the window of the village
posada, when Cyriuski and our host of the previ
ous evening passed by, the latter with bis stuck
on. He beckoned me to acme down, which 1 did,
und joined them.
•This is a bad business,* said Don Julian, show
ing me that he had a case of pistols under his cupa.
‘Cyriuski und Victor are going to fight; nor do 1
see how it can be helped, for Victor has again re
fused to make the smallest apology. You know
prububiy, that our military law is severe against
duelling, and this adair may cost us ull our com
missions, und the more so as occuring in front of
tiie enemy. Walk down with us if you have no
objection. No harm can accrue to you for so do-
iug, und your evidence may he good for some ofuji
hereafter, if it comes to a court martial.’
In a few minutes we were on the ground select
ed for the duel, which was a small Indian corn field
in front of the villrge, and about equidistant from
two of tlio Christine pickets, hut screened from
view by being in a sort of a hollow, shut in either
ide, and also to the rear by high land and
plantations of young forest trees. U was incon
veniently near tho cantonments and pickets ; but
the whole of the udjucent country being covered
with troops, it would have been nocessury to have
gone leagues to gel a better place, and, on tho
whole, it was the most secluded spot that could be
found. Ou tho side looking towards the Carlist
cump, the country sloped gently downwards for
some tincu hundred yards, und then again
beguin to riso for ubout the game distance, or
rather more, till it terminated in a ridge,
or crest upon which tho Curlists had their
position. One of the looso stone walls commonly
used in Spuiu to divide farms and estates, ran a-
cross tho lower end of the field from which tho j time,
maize had been recently cut. Bevend this, the I have no doubt but tliut it will prove so to you and
. . * .11.. 1 I I . J
ground was uneven, intersected by hedger, and
sprinkled with apple trees.
Victor und bis second, the same young Spaniard
who hud accompanied him on his expedition ol the
preceding night, reached the field as wo did. Af-
ter anothei
to extract (
I
uin attempt on the parted Dvn Julian
apology from the Frenchman, fifteen
measured, and the men placed. As
friend.
‘1 am all impatient to hear it, father.'
Mr. Ju tnus paused a few moments to collect his
thoughts, and then said—
‘You never heard of Mary Elion, did you,
Anna ?*
‘Mary Elton ? No. Who was she ?*
‘She was tho youngest daughter of Mr. and Mrs
the seconds bunded the pistols to their principals,a | Elton—the most beautiful of all the family. And
j —'-‘-i- j, 0( . (air person was hut nn ultimate form of her
spirit’s loveliness.*
‘Their daughter, father ? Surely that cannot he.
I heard Mrs. M say, once, that there were
only three sisters of them ; herself, Mrs. II ,
and Emily Elton.'
‘Mrs. M ■ (jid not tell the whole truth,
then. She, perhaps, quulificd in her own mind her
scattering fire of muskets was opened, which to
me appeared very near. I made u few steps
towards the higher part of the field, and saw the
grey coats and blue cups of some Carlist skirmish
ers advancing up towards our lines. Julian, who
waste give the signal,seemed to hesitate. There
wus something strange in lighting a duel ulmost un-
dcr the fire of tho enemy.
’ulemeut, by recurring to the fuel that Mary wus
Jeftd.'
‘She is dead, then ?
Yes. She died many years ago, an outcast
from her fnlhers's house.'
‘Cast off, lather^ And yet so beautiful and
pure-minded, as you say ?’
‘Yes, Anna. And there was no stain upon lier
character when she died. She was, even ns an
outcast, from home, und home's dearest und
best affections, the same innocent and lovely crea
ture.'
•Why, then, wus she castoff, father?’ Anna
asked, in an eager und inquiring lone.
‘I will tell you. But in doing so, 1 must begin at
the beginning. It is now about twenty years, per
haps a little more, since Mary Elion burst sudden
ly into womanhood, the pride of her own family,
and the admiration of ull. I hAvu never seen so
sweet a face as hers, nor one that made so deep an
impression on my mind. When l think of her,
even now, it is with every feature of loveliness dis
tinct before me.
‘Notwithstanding tho self-sufficient aristocratic
pride of her family, it was found impossible to be
altogether exclusive. The yearnings of the heart
for companionship will he satisfied—and undqrthc
influence of this uaturul feeling, even the most ex-
elusive circle is broken at some points. In the
marriage ol their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Ellon
louud it impossible to connect them with elder or
even younger sous of those of ‘noble blood,' for
in the Liston family, there were no male represen-
taties of their high-born dignity—and the Liston
family, you know, with lIil* Eltons, claim the sole
right to be exclusives in this community. They
md to stoop a little. One married the son of a dis.
itiguished Revolutionary patriot; and the oilier
brmed a connection with u family much valued in
his State, for the high-toned principle, eminent
alenis, and great devotion to their country, of all
;s male members. But even this connection
voui.ded tho pride of Mr. and Mrs. Elton. The
athers of both tlieir daughters'husbands had devo
id themselves to business. Une hud been a mer-
Imnt and the other a farmer. And, nolwithstaud-
ug many, very many years had passed since they
md been engaged in their pursuits, the taint still
emaiued, and offended their aristocratic nos-
rils.
‘Necesarily, in this descent of the family to what
hey considered a lower plane, an nccessihl" point
vus produced. Mr. Moss, and Mr. Mart, though
noviug in a high position, inherited none of those
leculiar clmructeiistics of mind which prevent
heir possessors from seeing any merit hut that
vhich stands in connection with hereditary rank.
I’heir associations were governed by different
/iows than such as operated on the minds of the
various members of the family into which they had
nnrricd. To mere rank and title they paid no
lotnugc—but rut her to wealth, united with eminent
md successful talent.
•Under these circumstances, nil the members of
Mr. Ellon’s family were brought into association,
at times, with, to use their own language,‘all k’lid:
of people.' And among these 'all kinds of people,’
were some fur more calculated to make an impres
sion on the mind of a young and innocent girl like
Mar) Elton, than would have been the artificial men
)f ‘noble birth’ across the water, could she have
come in contact with them.
•In visiting at the house of a friend of her sister’s
husband—Mary became acquainted with a young
man, a law student, named Charles Leslie. H
was nut rich, nor of distinguished connexions. But
he had received a very superior education—was
possessed of high intellectual endowments, and,
what was more, united with them the purest prin
ciples of morality.
‘Mary he saw but to love, and there sprung up
at once in her heart a reciprocal emotion. For a
iong time, these were secrets undeclared by each
other, und unknown as a jnuiual sentiment. To
Charles there appeared an impassable gulf between
them—a gulf that he feared would forever form a
barrier to their union, even were he confident of
iho affection of Mary.—At first, it was at long in-
* lervals that he met her, and then only at tho house
I of a friend, where he was known and esteemed.
I This friend was a near relative of Mr. Moss. and.
for this reason, Mary was permiltted to visit in his
family, of which privilege she occasionally availed
herself. Gradually, she found herself becoming
more uud more inclined to repeat these visits, und of
course, the intervals between them grew shorter
and shorter. Tho reason of this was unacknowl
edged to herself.
‘Charles Leslie likewise, found himself repealing
his visits at briefer periods. The reason of this
soon presented itsolfto his mind in a clear, strong
and rational light. He was conscious that Mary
Elion wus tho point of attraction that drew him to
his friend's house, with a power that was becoming
almost irresistable. This discovery alarmed him
for he knew the proud, sclf-cstimution of her family
—he knew that there was a harrier to his mar
riage with Mary, even if she returned his love,
that was almost, if not altogether, impossible. He
now began to observe closely the words, tones and
manner of Mary, and soon become convinced that
the affection which Imd sprung up in his bosom, hut
reciprocated tho feelings in her own.
•A long and painful struggle now took place in
: is mind between principle and affection. This
•'.onlest was finally terminated by a resolution to go
iv Mr. Elton, the father of Mary and state plainly
■ no case. Ho felt almost certain of nn indignant
repulse, hut, nevertheless, so strong was Ins love of
hohorablc principle, that he went resolutely about
the performance of his duty. For a time he deba
ted whether he should declare to Mary his regard,
id^get her approval of his love, or n rejection of it
before lie proceeded further. But for* her soke, he
decided lo let her remain in ignorance of his feel-
ings or intention. Hu could not yet determine
iow to act if repulsed, und, therefore, did not wish
•o subject her to any severer pang than would, he
lelieved, result even as it was, from a refusul to
permit him to continue his attentions.
Resolutely determined to act from a principle
of right, Charles called to see Mr. Elton, and re-
quested u private interview, which was of course,
granted.
‘Mr Elton,'said liar young man, ui n cairn tone
of voice, as soon as they were alone.‘I have come
to deal with you frunkly und honorubly in a mat*
.er that concerns us both. I wish to address your
luughicr Mary.’
‘Who are you, sir ?* Mr. Elton asked abruptly,
w hile his countenance assumed u cold, and some
what stern aspect.
* My name h Charles Leslie, sir,’ was tho calm
reply.
‘But who was your father, young man ?,
‘An honest, honorable uml high-minded citizen,
•guiust whom no lip ever breathed u word of rc
preach.'
‘But who was he ? What was he ?’ asked Mr.
Elton, in quicker tones.
•He wus a merchant of ibis city, whose sole lo-
ncy to his son wus a good education, and I trust
.is own high-toned principle.'
‘Oil yes, 1 understand ! An unknown adventu
rer seeks the hand of my daughter!* Tnen, chang
ing his sneering tour* to one of uugcr, w hile Ills
face grew dark, he added—
•If you ever presumed to hope, oven in a dream,
•hut I would consent to let you address my daugh-
er, banish it now and forever. 1 would rather see
er dead than united to you or nnv other low horn
fellow ! Go to your own, sir! Sock to consort with
your own. But dare not lo vonturo into my pro-
sence again with any such proposition '
‘And so saying he turned away, leaving Charles
Leslie to find his way out of the elegant mansion
of the haughty individual he had so deeply offend
ed.
‘I need not detail the progress of events which
resulted in a marriage of the young couple against
the consent of Mury's father and friends. To that
imprudent step if came at last, though after a strug
gle of two years agxinst the power of a mutual
passion thui was deep, pure, intense, and unwaver-
»"«•
At the lime they were married, Charles Leslie
had been admitted to the bar about one year. His
practice had begun to increase quito pleasantly, for
his talents were acknowledged, and Mr. Harper,
then just rising into distinction, threw a good deal of
business in his way.
‘About one month after they were married, Mr.
Ellon entered tho office of Mr. Harper. The par-
ticulars oftheir interview transpired ; it was some
thing like this :
‘Good day, Mr. Elton, good day !' ejaculated the
lawyer, us that distinguished individnul en
tered, raising and bowing low and obsequious-
iy-
‘ How do you do Mr. Harper !’ responded
Lis visiter, extending his hand, and smiling bland
ly-
‘After tho civilities of the day were all exchang
ed, Mr. Elion drew his chair up close to that in
which tho lawyer was sitting, and compressing his
lips tightly as he drew n deep inspiration, said :
‘ I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Harper.’
‘Name it, sir, and it shall be done,' was the prompt
answer.
‘You me kind,' wus the brief rcponsc. Then af
ter a moment's pause he said—
‘You know, I presume, how deeply that young
fellow, Leslie, lias injured me. Mow like a fox he
has glided into the sacred retreat of mv dwelling,
und has stolen away one of my most dearly prized
treasures.'
•I have hoard of it, Mr. Ellon, and the act has
deeply pained me.'
‘Very well. Now, it is upon this subject that I
wish to converse with you. I have learned, that
without the business which you throw into Leslie's
hands, he would not be able lo support himself nt
this bar.*
‘I believe that to be true, sir.*
‘Very well. Now 1 do not wish to persecute
him, you understand. But it seems to me, that
such an act of treachery should not go without its
just reward. 1 le ought to feol the frown of the
whole community upon him.'
‘So I think,' was il/r. Harper's reply.
T am glad to see that you appreciate his conduct
as it deserves,’ returned Elton with an encouraging
smile. ‘And I am sure that for one, you will nut
uphold him in what lie has done.'
‘Me ?* in u tone of surprise ; ‘no indeed. Tlmt
I will not. He has acted Imsely, And. I am sure ,
I am the last one who would countenance such con-
duct.’
‘I was certain of it,' Mr. Elton said. ‘And now
I need scarcely say, that your business favors
ought to go to a more worthy individual.'
‘So I think, Mr. Elton, und shall act according-
‘Spoken like high-minded, honorable man I had
always believed yon,* said Ellon, rising und retir
ing in his blandest manner.
‘For a long time alter Elton left his office, did Mr.
Harper set musing, evidently in no very coniform-
hie mood of mind. At length he arose to his feet,
saying aloud, as he did so—
‘But it must he done,’ and paced his office floor
backwards und forwards for nearly halfuu hour, in
deep, and, evidently, painful thought.
‘From the hour that Mury Elton married Charles
Leslie she was utterly banished from the home uud
affections of her parents, sisters, and their exclu
sive circle. Not the slightest notice was taken of
her in any way. O.ice finding tliut all her letters
wore unanswered, she ventured to re-enter the
home of her childhood, but was rudely and cruelly
repulsed. She never again tried the hopeless task
of reconciliation.
‘Under the fluttering promise of a rapidly in
creasing business, Leslie rented a pleasant house,
and bad it neatly furnished. Into this lie introdu
ced his young and lovely bride, and fora time they
wero as happy us it wus possible, under ull the cir
cumstances, for them to he.—Soon, however, ho
began to observe a change in the mariner of many
of those with whom lie had boon in professional as
sociation the past year, und what really alarmed
him was, that he received uo more business from
Mr. Harper. His pride and independence of feel,
ing prevented his going to him und usking the rea
son, and he therefore remuiued in ignorance.
Even in the few cases that now called for his ut-
icnlion, he found himself treated with marked in
difference and frequent discourtesy by tho judges
on tho bench. His brethren of the bur, likewise,
exhibited a coolness thut troubled mid annoyed
him. But he would, not ask, though he partly im
agined the cause. He did not dream however, of
tho malignant and powerful influence that was
secretly but surely ut work in the effort to compass
his ruin.
‘At the end of six months, he found himself
friend.ess und in debt. And still worse, alarmed
ut indications of failing health. Hereditarily he
hud a predisposition to iliat fatal disease, consump
tion ; but he had hoped by great care, lie would es
cape any of those exciting causes which doueloped
its symptoms in early life. But in this he was un-
happily mistaken. A feverish state of mind, con-
sequent upon the events of tho few previous months,
had acted corrc.qr.nulontly upon his body, and to
this were added repeated unavoidable exposures to
humid, chilly atmospheres. A hoarse, hollow
sounding dry cough soon ensued, and other more
palpable symptoms of the fearful disease be so
dreaded. The progicssof the malady was unus
ually rapid. One year from the time of his mar-
Huge, he found himself unable to leave his chamber,
uud the physician could offer him no ground upon
which to icst u hope of recovery.
‘Added to this deeply nffiicting circumstance,
were others scarcely less painful. The whole
amount of Leslie's foes did not pay over one half
of his expenses ; and beyond his own efforts he had
not a single resource, ltent had consequently ac
cumulated, and various other lulls, lo ail embarras
sing extent: and demands for money were fre
quent, and to one of Lis mind, exceeding distres
sing.
*On the morning of the first anniversary of their
wedding day, Leslie $ut in his chamber, leaning his
head upon his bund in gloomy silence. Ilis face
pale and thin, und he seemed extremely feeble.
•Try and be a little cheerful, dear Charles,' said
his young wife, tenderly, laying her hand upon Ins
fine white forehead, at the same time that she stoop*
ed down and touched her lips to his.
‘ I wish it were in my power to be cheerful, Mary
but it is not. I am afraid tlmt I shall never be
cheerful again !' He replied in a despouding
tout'.
*0, yes, you will, Charles. I know you will.
The clouds must puss away—and a clear sky lies
behind thorn.'
•The young wife tried to smile encouragingly;
but the feeble light that flitted over her face, could
not deceive her husbund. lie knew that see was
not hnppv. How could she be—banished thus,
from the presence of those whom skn bad lowed
from childhood 1 How eoujd *be fc» toppy, whui
tlto dear name of fulher, mother, Sat.ra no mo;
pressed her lip., and their loved va|fM fell no 1<»:
ger sweetly upon her ear 1 Not that she wou; I
have {given up the love of her huehead, could tlx,
sacrifice restore all these.—No ! would have
spurned the thought. Still it sm Impossible to
tear such affections and such ogjecis from the
heart, without lacerating it MMfillly—without
leaving behind a wounded and auSkfing spirit.
‘ 1'be re will be no more clear akp for us, Mary,’
were the words that arose involuntarily to the lips
uf Leslie, but ho repressed theta, and remained
silent.
•From this ailence lie was startled by a loud
knock at the chamber door, which WM opened hy
his wife, and an individual well known to him, en
tered.
‘I am very sorry, Mr. Leslie, to find you so ill!'
tiie mail said, more especially aa my business is a
very unpleasant one.’
•VVliat do you mean, Jacobs ?’ Leslie asked in
an alarmed und excited tone.
‘I must do my duty, you know, Ur. Leslie.’
‘Of course, Jacobs, but, what i* your duty ?’—
Toll mo that.’
•My duly is to tako an inventory of your furni.
ture.’
•For what purpose V
•Unless you cun selllo your lust two quarters’
rent, your furniture will bo sold.’
‘Will not tiie landlord wait?’
•Nutaday. Ho lias already, you know, taken
all tiie legal steps, and is determined to advertise
your furniture for sale to morrow.*
‘Poor Leslie sunk back in bis chair, while a
deathly puieness overspread hia countenance.—
Mary sprung to his side instantly, and by every ten.
der argument that site could use, endeavored to re
assure him.
‘Do not fear forme, dear Charles!’ she urged,
forgetful uf the presence of nay one. *1 shall
shrink from nothing. Come what will, I am ready
to meet it, and clieefully too, if you will only be as
you wero. I know you feel troubled for me, and
not for yourself. But you need not. I am pre.
pared to share your lot, lie it what it muy, and
share it without a murmur.’
■Mary He who knows your true heart, may, he
I,less you !’ Leslie said, frequently. Then turn
ing to the officer, who Imd been moved even to
tears by the scene, lie added,
•We uro prepared, Jacobs. Go on, and do your
duty.’
The officer bowed, and then proceeded, with the
uid of two appraisers, whom lie Imd brought with
him, to go through the house and value every arti
cle of furniture tliut ileonlained. This over, he
retired, leaving Leslie and his wife alone, to await
the events of the next day.
•Ou tho next morning u sale of their furniture
was announced lo take place at ten o’clock.—I
was about eight o’clock when Jucobs.the officer, t.
whom had been entrusted litis unpleusant business,
came in.
‘Mr. Leslie,’ lie said in a sympathising tone,
‘can 1 not assist you lo remove beforu the sale oom.
inenees, ft will nut do to remain here, you
know.’
‘1 feel grateful for your kind consideration,.
Jacobs, but shall have to stay where I am.—There
is no other place to which 1 can remove. But then
is one thing that you can do, if you will.’
‘Name it, Mr. Leslie.’
‘Protect us from intrusion here.’
•Tho officer paused u moment, and then said.’
’I can do it, under une condition.’
‘Wlmt is tlmt?’
•You must let me remove from this room every
article that can lie claimed under the law.’
‘1 leave with you, Jacobs, to do for me as you sec
best, 'I know tlmt 1 can coelide in you,’ wus Les
lie’s reply.
Tim officer then proceeded to remove from the
room every tiling it contained, except the bedstead,
bedding, and a few chairs.
‘Now, Mr. Leslie,’he said,‘you can lock your
door. Do not open it lo any one but me.’
‘1 shall never forgut this act of kindness, Jacobs,’
was the reply, as the young man, raising himself
up with an effort, from the bail upon which lie was
lying, grasped the hand of the officer.
‘Do not speak of it, Mr. Leslie. I Imve only
done for you, what 1 would do for any man under
like circumstances. Of all men, wo should culti.
vnte humane feelings for wo are called upon evory
duy to exercise them.’
il'un o’clock came, and there was the tread of
muny feet and tiie confused sound of many voices
through tiie dwelling of Charles Leslie, while he
and liis young wife shrank together in their own
chamber, alone, and witli the feeling that they
were forsaken ofuli the world. Then succeeded
the loud voice of the auctioneer, calling over* ar
ticle ufier article, of tlieir furniture, fbr which,
from familiarity they Imd begun to enterluin an
affection; and from which they could not port,
thus, without feelings of beravemont, sadness, and
desolation. For two long hours did this continue,
und at lust the aclionoer paused, before their cheut
ber door, and laid liis hand upon the lock.
‘Whui is in lie.o V ho usked in a loud voice,
tlmt fell upon the hearts of .ho two lonely inmates
like a sudden und powerful blow.
‘Nothing but whui is protected by the law,’ the
officer replied.
‘Mow do I know lhat ?’ tho landlord asked com
ing forward.
■Look ut your inventory, sworn lo by tho ap
praisers, und see if every tiling cullud for there is
not to lie found out of that chamber, was the offi
cer’s firm answer.
Thus met and rebuked, the landlord shrunk back,
und the auctioneer said—
‘The sale is over, 1 believe. We will remain
till two o’clock to settle the hills and dciivor the
furniture.’
A few hours sufficed to clear the house of every
thing that cuiild be tultcn away. When tho last
man Imd departed, tho officer tapped at the door of
flic chamber that contained Lesio and' his
wife.
■Now that it is nil ovor, Mr. Leslie,’ In sail,
■cannot 1 servo you in some way ?’
‘Not just now, Jucobs,’ was Leslie’s calm repiy.
‘But I inuy be glad to see you fur a few minutes to
morrow V
‘I will most certainly come,’ was the officer’s
reply, us lie turned away, and left the room.
‘It was perhaps, nn hour afterwards that Leslie
uud his wife heard some one enter the house,
uud, after wandering through the rooms below,
ascend the stairs with a slow, heavy measured
pace. Then cume a gentle tap nt tlieir door.—
When opened, a strange man, somewhat advanced
in years,with amild, benevolent countenance, stood
in tlie entrance.
‘F.xouso this intrusion, my young friends,’ ho
said, as tic stepped into tiie chamber, and advanced
towards the bed upon whiclt Leslie lay J but under
circumstances like tho present, it seems to me
that all coremonv and reserve ought to be waived,
i nin u stranger io you, but it is not always tho
stranger that is most indifferent.’
•As lie uitored the last sentence, he took the hand
of Leslie in his own.
•Bless me, sir ! you are in a high fever!’ ho e-
jaculated.
‘I urn certainly not well,’ was tho reply, in a
low, feeble tune, lo which succeeded a fit of convul
sive coughing. •
•Thut you are nol, and need the most cartful at
tentions ; Mr. Leslie.’ Then, Hfter a pause—‘It
will, of course, lie necessary for you to remove
from hero V.,
•To this, there was no reply.
‘Mydear sir,’ the stranger resumed,again taking
Leslie’s hand, ’you must excuse the freedom of
one who sincerely desires to aid you in your pre
sent extremity. Lay aside, then, all reserve.—
Look upon me os a friend—confide in me as a
friend.’
‘If there was ever a time when I really needed a
friend, it is now.’ Leslie replied, glancing el thn
