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VOLUME X.
TERMS!
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I THINK OF MY CHILD.
DY MRS. M. W. STRATTON
I think of my child when the sun shines bright.
And earth seems to revel in beauty and light,
when the singing of birds, and the humming of
bees,
Make a musical world of the dew-laden trees.
i weep for my lost one then.
I mourn that she sleeps in the dark cold ground.
Shutout from the beauty so lavished around,
That wild flowers bloom, and the long willows
wave,
Iu silence, and sadness, o’er Immogene’s grave.
I weep for my lost one then.
I think of my child when the silvery moon
Sheds loveliness holier, sweeter, than noon,
And I think of her too in the still, dark night,
The star-studded sky may not gladden her sight.
I weep for nay lost oue then.
1 touch my loved harp, but its strings no more
Are tuned tp the gladuess they breathed<>f yore;
A white-robed spirit seems hovering near
To sadden the note*, and a heart-wrung tear
Is shed for my lost one then.
I think of wy.child when a harsh world’s blame
Would sully the whiteness of woman’s name,
When slander is blighting with poisonous breath,
t triumph to think that hhe sleeps in death,
Nor weep for my lost one then.
When a pale wife shrinks from a wme flushed
* fuce,
And a tyrant reigns in a husband’s place—
And when cruel injustice with iron tread
Has trampled a spirit, and whitened a head,
J r jp Can I weep for my lost one then?
I think of my child when the wind blows high,
the lightnings flash from an angry sky,
When the waves of trouble come bounding on,
I triumph to think that my darling’s gone,
Nor weep for my lost one then.
Oh, I dream that she’s one of an an go! band,
And I’ll meet her again in the spirit land—
That she is not lost, only gone before,
And try to believe that I grieve no more
But I weep for my lost one then.
PRAYER OF THE UNFORTUNATE.
AY n A HOLD.
Oh God! I pray you spare my heart,
r Take not my love from me.
t She is the only star that shines
On life’s tempestuous sea—
All other hopes that I have known
Have vanished one by one;
v Yet still my soul bore bravely up
„ i And said, “ Thy will be done.”
My parents, brothers, sisters dear,
, r All vanished from my side,
I was rushing blindly on,
Without a chart or guide—
When from the clouds, whose thunders burst
£s. Cnpitying ou my head,
A star appeared, and on my heart
' Its holy radiance shed.
>;
-Then spare, oh, God, the only guide
That leads me on to Thee,
she vanishes from my sight,
H Then Hope has fled from me—
I’d sink beneath the waTes of sin,
** If she and I should sever;
Then spare, oh, God, my only joy,
Or bloh me tut forever !
THE PRESS.
BY JOHN J. SAXE.
Firm in the right the Daily Press should be,
The tyrant’s foe, the champion of the free;
Faitbftd and constant to its sacred trust—
Calm in its utterance, in its judgments just;
Wise in its teaching; uncorrupt aDd strong
To spood the right and to deuouncc the wrong!
jsoug may it be ere candor must confess
|)o Freedom’s shores a week and renal press!
Cl Soul I) mi lUcdili) Gil mm] ißistcUani'ons Hour mil, for flic l)ome Circle.
BAD SPECULATION;
08, THE DARK STRANGER.
CHAPTER I.
“ All, Angely, 1 am ruined—utterly
ruined !” exclaimed Robert Wilson to his
yopug mid devoted wife.
“ Ruined I why, Robert, what can have
happened ! 1 thought that you were
doing so well in your business,” returned
tlie wife, with I Iks deepest anxiety depic
ted on her fair featuies.
“And so 1 am, my love; but in an un
lucky moment l embarked in a specula
tion which has proved unfortunate, and
every dollar I possess is gone.”
•‘Why have you not told me of this
before, Robert!”
“I wished not to pain you,love?”
“I fear yon have been imprudent;
nay, I will not rep roach you.”
“ I have Imped until now that I should
be tlble to redeem myself. By risking a
few hundred dollars more, l feel confi
dent that I could retrieve my losses, and
come out bright again, hut alas, 1 have
not another dollar in the world.”
Anil the young husband looked anx
iously at bis wife,
“ W hat kind of a speculation was it,
Robert,” asked bis wife, as a slight mis
giving crossed her confiding heart.
“Oli, it was a strict 1)' business transac
tion.rather complicated in its details, and
I doll t think you would understand it. if
I explained it,” replied Robert, evasively.
“I am not so dull of comprehension
that I cannot understand an ordinary
business transaction.”
“No, my dear, 1 know you would un
derstand it better than ladies, generally
would, but it is very intricate—very.”
“I will not insist, Robert, upon know
ing anything you desire to conceal,” said
Mrs. Wilson, with a gentle reproach iu
her tone; “but incthinks a wife ought
to know the occasion of a husband's sor
rows.”
“Forgive me, Angely” replied the
husband, imprinting a tender kiss upon
her lips; “forgive me, and I will tell
you ail.”
“Nay, love, I ask it not; fam satis
fied now. And is there no hope!”
“If I had two hundred dollars I feel
perfectly confident that I should redeem
myself.”
“ Is there no risk, Robert?"’
“I will be candid, Angely—there is
some risk.”
“ l will get you the money, Robert.”
“ My ow n I rue wife !"’
Tips conversation occurred at the
house of a young New York shopkeeper.
He had been married lo a young, gentle
hearted girl only a year before, during
which period they had lived in uuinter
mpted happiness.
The young wife had no suspicion that
the clouds of adversity were lowering
over their joyous home until her I usband
had communicated the fact. For some
weeks, however, she had noticed that
Robert was more than usually dull.—
Once'or twice a week lie . had absented
himself from her side in the evening,
alleging that his business demanded his
extra attention.
Angeline Wilson, at the time of her
marriage, was the possessor of a small
sum of money, bequeathed to her by her
father. It had been settled uptm her so
that her husband could not.control it,
and could spend no portion of it without
her sanction.
Ihe young shopkeeper’s business bad
prospered beyond his most sanguine ex
pectations so that his devoted wife, who
would willingly luive placed her little for
tunc in his hands, saw no occasion to
withdraw it fioin her uncle, iu whose
possession it was not only deemed to be
safely invested, but was producing a
handsome interest.
Robert Wilson was a whole-souled
young man, without a selfish thought in
his composition, lie had married An
geline for herself alone, and had hardly
bestowed a thought upon her portion.
But the “ bad speculation,” had wor
ried him exceedingly. All the ready
money he could command had been ex
hausted, and in this extremity the thought
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 1856.
occurred to him that his wife could sup
ply his wants. The idea of asking her
relief was, to a man of his high-strung
temperament, so entirely repugnant that
he on y had the courage to hint at the
service she might render him,
CHARTER ir.
With the money iu his pocket which
Angely had procured for him, Robert
Wilson hastened down Broadway. At
the corner of Park Place lie paused, and
and cast a furtive glance around him.—
Evidently lie was much agitated. He
thought of his loving wild at home.
He had deceived her, and his con
science smote him. She was all love
and gentleness, sincerity and confidence,
and he had basely deceived her.
Should he not return, throw himself at
her feet and beg for forgiveness? Snell
a course was certainly the most grateful
13 his erring, penitent soul; hut he had
made a “bad speculation,” and while
ihere was a hope of retrieving himself,
(lie demon of mammon within prompted
him to sin again.
Turning down Park Place, lie entered
one of those gambling hells which are the
curse of enlightened America. Again
he paused on the stops of the magnificent
establishment to silence the. upbraiding*
ot his conscience. The beautiful, Joving
e.xpiv-Mun of his wife, languishing away
the tedious hours of his absence in lonelv
misery, haunted him.
But the usual consolation, the oft re
peated resolution of the erring soul,
“Only this time, and then I will forever
abandon the way of the transgressor,"
came to urge him on.
By I lie gas-light in tlie street lie ob
served a dark form, closely niulfind in the.
folds of a Spanish cloak, approaching the
spot where ho stood. The stranger
paused by bis side, glanced intently at
him and then entered the saloon.
Ho followed him; the ball flnsiie I
with brilliant lights, and the gnv and
fashionable of tlie metropolis thronged the
scene. Men smiled as though the place
was not the gale of hell itself. The old
and respectable of the bar and forum, and
the exchange, were there eouiiteneing by
their presence and example tlie iniquity
practiced within those gilded walls.
Robert Wilson shuddered as ho en
tered the saloon. Yet why should he
shrink from a scene in which the respec
table men of the community hesitated
not to mingle ?
Poor, simple young man ! bis soul had
not yet come to believe, that wealth, sta
tion and the honors of the world can sat
isfy sin and hallow iniquity.
In an unguarded hour he had been
lured into this “den of thieves,” by a
man of respectable standing iu society—
the importer he bad purchased many of
bis goods from, and w ho held his note in
payment of them.
lie had hazarded a few dollars, though
l;is conscience smote him ail the while.
He won ; ho was in the management of
unsuspecting" dupes. He went away
with his pockets well lined with the fruits
of his unhallowed gains. Inflated by
the ambition to become suddenly rich,
be went again, and again he won.
The devil lured him on. With a firm
resolution to abandon these visits when
he should have added the gain of one
more nightto his previonsaecnmlation, he
went a third time. If he succeeded on
this occasion, as lie had on the two pre
vious nights, he should be able to pay
the only remaining notes be [owed. The
prospects of freeing himself entirely from
debt, suddenly and without labor, tempt
ed him to engage once again in the ex
citing game.
But the gamblers bad permitted him
to run the whole length of his rope. On
the third night he lost—lost all he had
before won !
Ail his fine fancies were thus dashed
to the ground. But the hope of freeing
himself from debt bad taken strong hold
of his imagination, and he could not so
easily resign it.
Again he went, trusting that the
changes of the game would again favor
him—again and again he went, till all
his available means were sacrificed. The
gamblers adroitly permitted him to win
a few dollars occasionally, and thus his
hopes were kept buoyant.
All was gone, but the passion of
gaming had gained intensity as his world,
ly substance melted away.
Uneasily he strolled among the gam
ing tables, now pause to glance for an in
stant at tlie game, and then Lurrying
nervously on again.
- Ho bad two hundred dollars in his
pocket, and—humiliating reflection ! —it
had been given by his wife ! He must
be careful of it; he could hope for no
more.
as lie paced the gaily thronged hall, he
discovered the dark looking stranger who
had confronted him at the entrance of
the saloon, alone at one of the marble
tables.
The eye of the stranger was suddenly
rested sharply upon him. It was a dark,
deeply expressive blue eye —it seemed
not unfamiliar to him. The glance, he
knew not why, rivited him to the spot,
and he stood tremulously gazing at the
stranger. The complexion of the myste
rious personage was decidedly white.—
His beard, jot black, entirely covered the
sides and lower part of the face; even to
the contour of the inoutli. It was very
long, and curled gracefully down over
the chin. Over his head he wore a cap,
from beneath which, long, black, glossy
curls floated down over his coat collar.
In statue bo was b low the medium size,
CHARTER 111.
“ Play,” said.the stianger, in a low,
guttural voice, not unmingled with soft
ness.
Robert Wilson involuntarily sealed
himself opposite the daik being, With
his gloved hand the stranger placed.a
fifty dollar nolo on the table.
“ Highest wins,” said lie, laconically,
as he pushed the dice box over to Rob
ert.
Ibis was certainly an irregular game
and an irregular manner of proceeding
—but it was simple, and iu this respect
was preferable to him, so be placed a
corresponding amount by the side of it.
Robert shook the dice, and east them
upon the table.
“Twelve,” said the stranger as ho
shook the box and made bis throw,
“Eighteen,” continued be, sweeping
the stakes from the table.
The next throw Robert won. Tlie
stake was doubled ; be won again.—
Maddened by excitement, be placed all
the money bo had on the table. The
dark visaged stranger, without moving a
muscle of his brow, covered it.
Atone fell swoop Robert was penniless
again.
Rising from the table in a paroxysm
of disappointment, be was about to rush
from the scene.
“ Stay,” said the stranger.
“ I have not a dollar,” replied Robert
bitterly.
“Your watch.”
“No,” replied Robert firmly; “it is
my wife’s,”
“Your luck will change again.”
The young man hesitated.
“Sure to change,” continued the
stranger.
With a desperate effort, Robert drew
the watch from his pocket.
“ Seventy-five dollars,” said he, trem
ulously.
The stranger placed tho amount on
the table.
The dice descended—Robert, won.
For several throws ho won, but sink- ;
ing all again, lie was once more penni
less.
The watch was put down again—it
was lost! Robert was in despair.
“You liavo a wife?”said the stranger,
“I have—God forgive me!” replied
the ruined husband, in a burst of bitter
ness.
“Ofcourse you love her not, or you
would not be here,” continued the stran
ger, carelessly.
“I do love her, as I love my own
soul! exclaimed Robert, perplexed by
the singular turn the conversation had j
taken.
I Tho character of the professional
! gambler was too well known to him, not
! to suspect that the dark stranger had
i some object in view in these inquiries.—
Those fearful tales of gamblers who have
staked money against the honor of a
wife, flashed across his mind, and lie
shuddered to think how near he stood to
the fatal precipice, which eight hurl
him in his madness into deeper dishonor.
“You would not have her know what
you have done!" said tho stranger, calm
ly.
“ Not for the world !”
“Then play again; your chance is
good.”
“I have not a shilling."
“ I will lend you.”
“On what security,” asked Robert,
! trembling for tlie answer.
“ Mortgage mo your stock of goods,”
“You know mo, then?"
“No; you are a shopkeeper.”
“ I will.”
The stranger threw him three liun
• died dollars. In ten minutes it was all
i lost!
■ “The mortgage,’’ said tho dark being
. before him.
I “Gan wo make it hero?*) asked Rob
ert, overwhelmed with anguish.
“ No; I will go to your house.’’ -
( “Impossible! not for tlie world.”
“ But I will!” said the stranger, stern
ly-
“ By heaven ! yon shall not.”
“ Hist! you shall be exposed."
Robert was obliged to consent and
borne down by the terrible agency that
i preyed upon him, he conducted liismys
| terious companion to bis once happy
| home. The clock struck eleven as they
j entered.
“Your wife is not at homo?” said the
j stranger.
Robert was surprised to find that
! Angely was not in her accustomed seat
jby the lire. Fu'l of painful misgivings,
' why, lie knew not, he hastened tolierapart
meiit to see if she bad retired ; there was
no I race of her to bo discovered.
Returning to the sitting room, lie
found lliu strange gambler rented by ill i
| tire intently pouring over the pages of a
| book lie bad taken from the centre table.
“Left you I should say; women are
I so tame,’’ replied the stranger sternly.
1 “Left me! no!” exclaimed Robert,
easting himself into a chair, and venting
in deep groans the anguish of his soul.
“The mortgage," continued the stran
ger, sharply.
“I will write it in my room,” replied
the young man, leaving tiio apartment.
Wiping away the tears that coursed
in great drops down his haggard cheek,
i he picked out a black mortgage from
1 his papers, and proceeded to till it out.
; The task completed, he returned to the
| sitting room.
I As ho opened the door, ho started
i back with astonishment at beholding
Angely seated by the grate, reading the
last number of Harper.
“ Why, Robert, I did not know you
bad got borne,” said slie, rising and plac
ing a chair before the tire, where bis
slippers lay, ready for him to put his
feet into.
The dark stranger was not there.
“ What is the matter with you, Robert,
; how strangely you appear,” continued
l his wife.
“Do [?” and Robert stared round
him in wild amazement. Where was
the stranger?
“ I did not know you were here, An
gely,” stammered he,
“I have boon out awhile this evening
but I came in just as the clock struck
eleven.”
“So did I answered ho, more confused
than before. “Where is Mr. , the
gentleman who came home with me?”
“ 1 have not seen any gentleman.”
“I camo in at eleven with ”
“What time is it now, Robert?”
The watch—his wife’s watch—it was
gone!
“Your watch—l left ”
“I have it; it is half past eleven,”
said Augely, taking the watch from her
pocket.
sitting room,
Robert staggered back in ainaznment.
“ Wliat is the matter with you, Robert?
you arc crazy, I should say.”
“That watch”—Robert paused.
“Well,” said Angely, beginning to
wear a mysterious, mischievous look,
“bow goes your speculation ?”
“ Badly, my dear,” replied Robert,
with a look of blank wonder.
“ What, paper have you in your hand ?’
“Nothing—that is—l will put it in
my secretary,” and he left the room to
get the ugly document out of the way.
He was not absent more than five
minutes, but'wlien be returned, the dark
stranger of the gambling bell sat at tlie
fire.
Robert began to think lie was dealing
with the devil.
“ The mortgage,” said the stranger, in
his low deep tones.
“ Who are you, sir? man or devil—
who are you?” exclaimed the young
man, rushing toward the dark form.
But before lie could rfeneh it, the form
shook olf the cloak, and ihe whiskers
and the wig, and bis wife stood before
him !
The spell was dissolved. He tinder
stood it all.
“ Are you cured, Robert,” said she,
smiling mischievously. And then using
the deep tones of the dark stranger, she
continued: “You have a wife, of course
you love her not, or you would not be
here. Ah, Robert, that alone saved you ;
you confessed your love, even in vour
gambling bell. In making baste to get
rich you have been led astray. But I
forgive you, Robert,” and the gentle
hearted wife twined her arms around his
neck, and kissed bis cheek.
j “Always forgiving as the spirit of
mercy, I do not deserve vonr forgive
j ness, Angely,” said Robert, his heart
ready to burst, with anguish, at the
j thought of the ruination he had nearly
brought on himself and his lovely and
; confiding wife.
After his remorse had abated, Robert
became anew man. He never again
; entered a gambling saloon—paid atten
tion to liis business—became a wealthy
' and respectable citizen, and never again
bad Angely to reprove him for making
a “ 15ad Speculation.”
Fighting Indians with Blood
Hounds.
A correspondent of the N. O. Picayune !
gives an account of a fight between Sam 1
Jones, a notorious desperado of Texas, i
and fifteen of the Lipan Indians. He was
in his corn field when they made their
appearance, but managed to escape, with
an old German, into his cabin.
The Indians soon surrounded the
house with hideous yells. The old man j
had but little ammunition, and was, of
course, conscious that every shot should
tell. When the Indians would attempt i
to break in lire slight door, lie would i
shoot, and while ho was loading, the '
German would keep them at bay, by
pointing an unloaded gun at them
through the crevices. They managed
this way till tho outside of the house
was bristling with arrows, aimed at them j
between the logs, and tire old man’s
powder had given out. At this moment ,
tlie Indians retreated a short distance to i
hold a council. The besieged availed !
themselves of the chance to get the as
sistance of a dozen bloodhounds that
were confined in an outbuilding. Under
cover of the two unloaded guns, Mrs.
Jones liberated the dogs. Here was a
reinforcement the red scamps had not *
calculated upon, and in the twinkling of
an oye, five of the Indians were hors de
combat. The balance came to the res
cue, and soon shot all the remainder of
their arrows into the dogs, and beat a
retreat, bearing their wounded, beating
off the dogs with their bows, their buck
skins in tatters, and blood streaming
from every one of them. After the fight,
the field exhibited one dead Indian, throe ,
dead dogs, sundry pieces of buckskin, j
mingled with clotted masses of Indian
flesh, hundreds of arrows and pieces of j
bow’s,
NUMBER 11
What Constitutes the Gentle
man.
Dr. Risk, in a recent lecture before
the Boston Mount Vernon Association,
traced the etymological derivation of the
word “gentleman,” and its cognates,
showing that‘the changes in its meaning
gave the history of its changes in tho
commonly received idea of a gentleman,
lie showed that the true gentleman docs
not attain to his gentility either by birth,
accident or growth, but l*y consistent
earnest effort. The tru< gentleman he
defined to be the man who seeks to for
ward the highest interests of those with
whom he comes in contact, and who at
tile same time is agreeable in his man
ners. A Christian may fulfil the re
quirements of the first part of the defini
tion, and a villian the last. Only a true
gentleman can do both. The world has
decided by a law as strict as that which
Beau Nash imposed upon the world of
fashion at Bath, that in society the mask
of humility must be worn. The true
gentleman is humble. Addison gives us
a picture of the gentleman of his day, in
Sir Roger de Coverly. But he was no
gentleman. Suppose he had been poor,
it is not evident that he would have been
proud and morose, a disagreeable com
panion and an unpleasant neighbor?
George Washington had the virtue of
true humility. The true gentleman must
he able to benefit, able to please, and
willing to do both. This rule, of course,
has its exceptions, for there are com
panies where it is ungentlemanly to en
deavor to please. The ability to please
must ho founded upon a nice sense of
; honor, mental culture, delicate percep
tions and refined simplicity. Dignity is
j characteristic of the gentleman, but is
j never attained except with the highest
j .-elf-control. Pride is always feeling
! after and taking care of its dignity. Sim
plicity is attained only with purity of
motive, and with purity and simplicity
come dignity. The true gentleman,
whose character is founded upon the
pillars of goodness and good taste will
try to he agreeable only to those who
ought to he pleased. There are also
rules of dress and of deportment, but the
true gentleman is likely to pay the least
attention to them. If there is sap in
tiie tree there will be leaves. The ex
cessive independence of American men
will, after all, not retard the development
of a fine manhood. Religion is free and
unshackled here, and a love of order
and beauty is growing in the Republic.
Hu closed by urging the members of
the Association to be true gentlemen
cultivating all that is high, and noble,,
and lovely, and of good report. The
address was filled with beautiful and
apposite illustrations, drawn from the
character and actions of Washington, the
truest of all true gentlemen.
An Incident.
At some of our restaurants a metal
check very much like a quarter, is given
by tlie waiter to the customer, as a tick
et of what lie has to pay. A simple
minded Hibernian, who had just arrived,
in New Yoik from Tipperary, going into
one of tlie restaurants, called for dinner
when the waiter had brought it, lie as
usual laid down the metal counter.—-
Paddy, astonished, said to himself:
“Be Jahers, this is tlie land for me £
when a man asks for some dinner, they
give him a bit of money to buy a sup ot
whiskey into tho bargain.”
When lie had swallowed his meal, the de
lighted Paddy was leaving, when he was
stopped by tlw waiter with,
“Halloo! where’s your money—are
you going without paying?”
Paddy stopped, and taking the metal
counter from his pocket, said,
“ Boderation take ye all, ye spalpeens,
why would yo be after giving me the
bit of money at all at all, if ye meant to
take it away again. Take away yer dir
ty money ! Perhaps ye’ll be after wish
ing me to return iny dinner to ye again !”'
So saying he threw the metal ticket
down ou the counter, and marched of in
a state of virtuous indignation.