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VOLUME X. (Original Pacfnj. Written for the Visitor. GIVE AID TO KANSAS. Hush! hear ye not the distant sound Os martial music Wending? As loudly on the southern storm Its voice for aid ’tis sending ? Hear ye, amid the martial strains, Tones of the bold and brave, Proclaiming there, with patriot’s cheer, Their “ Southern Rights” to save? List, as it skims the swelling tide, Os Carolina's sea, Still cheering on, thro’ strife nnd storm, To climes of Liberty; And as it floats upon the breeze Os Georgia’s spotless land, It asks aloud, its tones all proud, Her aid, for the Kansas band. Hark! to the sweeping notes, that tell Os Glory to be won; To wrest our right, from Northern might— The honor of our sons: Come to the standard, now unfurled; Launch boldly on the sea, And let its wave bear ye, nil brave, To shores of Victory. Fly to the “Border RuflianV’ aid, Fly to the swelling tide; And fiercely in, ’mid battle’s din, Practice your Southern pride; Cast off your coats of cloth, and don Those of the crimson cast— Let that proclaim your soul’s just aim, And struggle to the last. Unbind your form from fashion'# garb, And strap “ Sharp* * Jiijfe' fast; With fearless leap, gain Freedom’s steep, And sound the Victor’s blast; Heave not, upon the strand of war, One sigh that breathes of fear, Nor moist the ground with the falling sound Os one unmanly tear. Coldly they spurn a brother’s clasp, But ape old England’s foil; Masking their cause in humane laws, To rob us of our soil. But false the aim ; with might and main, We’ll join the patriot band ; And make them feel, ’midst smoke and steel, That “Southern Rights” ehall stand. Siiaxa. A "'juntas July , 1806. HOW CUPID BECAME BLIND. While in the garden of the skies, Folly and Love, as children do, Played, ere the god had lost his eves, A quarrel rose betwixt the two! Love said tin gods should do him right, But Folly vowed to do it then, And struck him o’er the orbs of sight So hard ho never saw again. ilia lovely mother’s grief was deep, She called for vengeance on the deed— A beauty does not vainly weep, Nor colcly does a mother plead. A shade came o’er the eternal bliss, That fills the dwellers of the skies; Even iron-hearted Nemesis And Rhadamanthus wiped their eyes. “ Behold,” said she, “ this lovely boy,” While freshly streamed her graceful tears, “ Is mortal, yet shut out from joy And sunshine all his future years; The child can never take, you see, A single step without a staff; The hardest punishment would be Too lenient for the crime by half.” All owned that Love had suffered wrong, And well should be avenged, they said; Then weighed the public interest long, And long the party’s interest weighed, And thus decreed the court above: — “Since Love is blind from Folly’s blow, Let Folly be the guide of Love, Where’er the boy may choose to go ?” THE LADY’S YES. “Yes!” I answered you last night; “No!” this morning, sir, I say; Colors seen by candle light, Will not look the same by day. ■\Vhcn the tabors played their best, Lamps above and laughs below— Love me sounded like a jest, Fit for Yes or fit for No! Call me false or call me free — 1 Vow, whatever light may shine, No man on thy face shall see Any grief for change on mine. Yet the sin is on us both— Time to dance is not to woo— Wooer light makes fickle troth Scorn of me recoils on you! Learn to win a lady’s faith Nobly as the thing is high; Bravely, as for life and death— With a loyal gravity. Lead her from the festive boards, Point her to the starry skies, Guard her, by your truthful words, Pure from corn tship flatteries. By your truth she shall be true— Ever true, as wives of yore— And her Yes, once said to you, Shull be yes forevermore. £1 Sonlljfvrt U'rchL) Cifcvanj nntr fttiscrilaucmts Sonvnnl, for tip' Ijcnne Circle, Cl ( j xooli St on). THE DIAMOND MERCHANT. AX EASTERN STORY. CHAPTER IV. Early in the morning the purse bear er of the 1 >efter-dar bent his way to the great Tcharcbi of the city, and was absent nearly an hour; and during this time, bis master more than once remov ed the chibouque from his lips, and leaned forward in the attitude of listen ing. When at length he returned, he passed at once to the presence of the Eftendi; and, having made his obeisance and carefully let fall behind him the heavy screen of tapestry which veiled the door of the apartment, ho drew from beneath his ample robe a handker chief, from which he took the flowing garments of a Bekta diy, or Mountain Dervish. There was the wadded cap of cloth with its binding of crimson wool : the buffalo horn with its leathern sling ; the broad belt of untanued leather clapped with a clasp of metal; the scarlet slippers, the heavy rosary, the iron lamp suspended from the girdle, and the ample robe and mantle of serge. The metamorphosis was speedily completed; and only a few moments had passed since the return of the purse bearer, ere the ex cotii tier stood before him iu the full garb of a mountain de votee. But the Deftcr-dar, however excellent he admitted the disguise to be, would not venture to trust it to tlie pry ing eye of day ; and the garments were accordingly laid aside until the twilight came to aid, with its long shadows, the enterprise of the adventurous friend. At length the favorable hour arrived; and when the Deftcr-dar passed out in to the street, in the midst of his own slaves, not a prostration was made, though many an eye turned on him in wonder, as none had seen him enter. Satisfied with ibis unceremonious proof of his successful transformation, the heart of the Etter.di heat high with hope as he pressed forward to the dwelling of the mysterious Ileindoune Hanoum ; nor did he allow his hand to falter as he heat upon the well remembered door. A weary interval elapsed ere bis sum mons was answered ; but ultimately a sturdy slave appeared, who seemed de sirous to veil the interior of the dwelling from the gaze of the intruder, as he scarcely opened the porlal sufficient to enable the suppliant dervish to perceive that the hall beyond was of vast extent and magnificent proportions, although scantily lighted from the gallery which ran around its lofty walls. » The Defier dar was not, however, to he diverted from his purpose by the surliness of a porter ; and lie told his tale of travel and weariness iu a tone which at once insured to it the ample credence of his listener. “ The Hanoum Eftendi cares not to epen her doors after sunset;” said the slave coldly; “ she is a widow, and deems it not seemly. But you arc a holy man, and you are travel-spent, I will tell her of your arrival, and shall be speedy with my answer. Bashustun, upon my head he it! she shall know that you are at her threshold.” And, without awaiting the reply of the Def ter-dar, he hastily closed the door, and the sound of his rapidly retreating foot steps soon died away in the distance. After a brief interval he returned, and with civil words welcomed the stranger to the roof of his mistress, as he stood aside to give him entrance; and the Defter dar found himself in a stalely-hall, paved with marble, around which ran a wide gallery, whence open ed a range of apartments. But he bad little time to acquaint liimself with the locality, for he was hastily hurried for ward a considerable distance down one or two dark passages ; and, finally, into a second saloon of incomparable beauty, surrounded, like the outer hall, by a gallery, whoso heavy balustrades were richly wrought and gilded, and to which access was afforded by a noble MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1856. flight of marble steps that swept down ward on either side of the stately apart ment; he cast a hasty glance around as he was about to follow his conductor to a chamber on the ground floor, where a shuffling of slippers was heard, and the slave paused, and bowed reverently be fore a tall muffled figure which hastily approached him. “ Is this the holy man ?” asked a voice which would have been harsh, had not time softened in some degree its asperi ty ; “Ne bilirim—what can I say ? Is this the dervish who claims shelter for the night beneath my roof?” And, as the question was uttered, a lean and w ithered arm emerged from the mass of drapery, and a bony hand held a lamp close to the face of the pretended do voice. The Deftcr-dar bent low before the speaker, and answered humbly in the affirmative. A shrill, mocking laugh, that rung painfully in his ears, was the icsult of the assurance ; and ere he had recover ed from its effects, the mantle in which the female was enveloped was cast off; the lamp that she held transferred to the slave, who still stood silently beside her; and, as she chipped her hands, the doors along the gallery were flung back, disclosing a glare of light by which the Defter-dar was momentarily blinded, while, liko a flight of summer birds forth flocked a troop of maidens as fair as the morning, whose ringing and yet musical laughter created in an instant an atmosphcie of joy about them, 11s they rapidly descended the marble stairs into the hall. “ Ajaib —wonderful! here is one,” half croaked, half shrieked the w ithered crone who appeared to ho the mistress of tlie levels, “ one who comes to us with a chaplet of beads and the robe of a dervish, and thinks to cheat its info a belief of his sanctity 1 Look to it »all of you, for there must be treachery here?” And, as she ceased speaking, ( the slave put the lamp into the hand of the foremost of the young beauties, who, with ajesture half mocking, half curi ous, railed it to the face of the mer chant, as the old woman had previously done and then passed it, with a silent shake of the head, to her neighbor. When each had played her part in j this singular pantomime, and that all had disclaimed any knowledge of the | stranger’s identity, he stood in the cen tre of the group, utterly unable to con jecture the meaning of a scone such as assuredly he had never before witness ed ; and so bewildered were his senses by the loveliness around him, that no fear for his personal safety mingled with his surprise. That the character for pi ety borne by Ilemdoune Hanoum in the , neighborhood, was not altogether mer- j ited, he at once perceived ; and, as he j glanced toward the lean and withered beldame, who stood glaring at him with keen and eager eyes, as though she ; would read bis secret on his brow i strange thoughts and fancies crowded upon him. and lie almost began to re gret that lie had undertaken the adven ture. But repentance came too late : he was now utterly in her power, and he ; felt that firmness alone could save him from its effects. “Our holy guest faints with travel,” once more burst forth the acrid voice of the old woman ; “ he has toiled all day beneath a hot sun, and there is neither soil or dust upon his garments ; he has left his slippers on the threshold, and the crimson is yet unfaded. Let him, however, blow us one blast upon bis buffalo-born, and we w ill crave the bene fit of his prayers. How now, Etfendim is your breath spent, that you refuse me this courtesy ?” It was, however, no part of the Def ter-dar’s purpose to refuse, though he hesitated for a moment ere he complied, being perfectly ignorant of his own ca pabilities in this new science; and when at last he raised the primitive instru. ment to his lips, he blew so and scordant and unmeasured a blast as threw the laughing maidens into a convulsion of merriment, and perfectly satisfied llem douno II mount that her ordinary' saga oily had not forsaken her. “ Del, gel—come, come ;” sho ex claimed, “wo w ill trouble our pious guest for no more mountain music. 11c has, however, done his best to amuse us, and we are bound to repay bis good-will in kind. Folcch-so, my daughter, to your care I confide him ; show him the wonders of our fairy palace, and tend him carefully until ho has over-mastered his fatigue—l will bo with you anon ;” and, with another fiendish laugh, she shuffled from the hall. Felech so gazed upon the stranger for an instant, as though somo faint and lar-off memory were shaping itself into tangibility in her mind ; but sho did not long indulge so dangerous a mood, and, in the next moment she was busily engaged in assisting her companions to replace the coarse head-gear of the Def ter dar with a turban of consummate cost and beauty, and to throw over his robe of serge a pelisse, richly lined and overlaid with sables. When this was done, they led him to a sofa, and estab lished him among the yielding cushions, whose golden embroidery showed gor geously on its ground of pale blue satin; and w hile one tilled Ids chibouque ot jas min wood, and another handed to him on her knees the minute cup of mocha< in its precious setting of fillagrecd gold, lipped with jewels, Felech-so established herself on a pcisian carpet at his feet, and, with her graceful zebcc and power ful voice, regulated the movements of a group who had ranged themselves in the centre of the floor, to dance the dance of the harem. The Defter-dar was dazzled, hut ho was not blinded. He felt at once that all this was part of a system intended to bewilder and throw him oil’ his guard; hat iio was no longer young enough to yield up his reason captive to the fascin ations of the moment. Dark eyes were flashing around him, while arms were wreathing gracefully in air, and long jetty tresses were falling in rich masses on shoulders as while and smooth as ivory. The Defter-dar saw all, and felt its beauty : hut, as he gazed about him, ho remembered a (ale which had once been told to him by a giaour, of one of the diversions of the far West, where crowds flock together, and seat them selves under pavilions of crimson, to list en to soft music, and to sec fair women and graceful men mimic the adventures of every-day life, and live through a long and eventful existence in the course of one brief night. Even thus looked the Defter-dar on the scene around him. He felt that it was a hollow and deceit ful pageant, which must ere long fade before sterner and cold realities; and wlien the bright shapes which bad flit ted past him in the dance ultimately grouped themselves about him, as if to await his pleasure, ho thanked them for their courtesy in a voice as steady as its wont. The dance had not long ceased when Ilemdoune Hanoum entered the apart ment, and, as she crossed the threshold, every fair head bent low before her. “It is well,” she said, as she glanced towards her visitor ; “my lord has cast oft' his disguise, and has now only to tell us his name and rank, ere we devise new inodes of amusement to divert his leisure hours.” “Ne bilirim —what, can Isay? You do your slave too much grace, Effendim,” said the Defter-dar quietly, “ that I am not that which 1 would fain havo seem ed, is true, and I will not wrong your sagacity by attempting longer to con ceal the fact. But neither am I that which your courtesy would suggest.— Your reception has been so much be yond my poor deserts, that I am bound in gratitude to tell you all—” As the Defter-dar paused for a mo ment, he accidentally caught the bright eye of Felech-so fixed eagerly, and, as it seemed, deprecatingly upon him ; but it might have been only fancy that there was warning in her earnest gaze, and ho had no opportunity to convince himself of the fact, as her head was hastily averted when their eyes had met. “ I am a merchant,‘Effendim, trading from a port in the Black Sea to the fair city of Stamboul, and I have just freighted an outward-bound brig with the whole produce of ten years of indus try, leaving myself so scantily provided as to ho utterly unable to meet the daily outlay necessary to my existence, until the arrival of a brother merchant, for whom I am anxiously watching from hour to hour; and who has promised mo a share in a venture of so profitable a character, that, should he hold to his word, my fortune is made. Iu this strait, being unwilling to lodge myself iu a khan without the present meins of paying fairly for the accommodation, I exchanged my usual dress with a deal er iu the Tcharehi for the coitume of a mountain dervish, well knowing that in that guise 1 should he certain to profit by (he alms of the pious. The fame of the holy and charitable Ilemdoune Hun ouni reached me as I stood in one of the great thoroughfares of the city, tin- , Certain towards which quarter I should ! first bend my steps, and decided mu at once. I have now confessed myself to ; be an imposter, Effendim, nnd should you put mo forth, I shall submit to the justice of your fiat without a murmur.” As he ceased speaking, the Defter-dar glanced towards Felech-so, and this time there could be no mistake. An expression of unutterable relief had j passed over her features, hut she sat j with her face turned slightly aside, and [ her hands folded upon her bosom, as j though she felt tio interest in the narra tion of the stranger. “ And you are then really too poor to \ lodgo yourself in a public caravanserai?” j said Ilemdoune Hanoum, interrogative ly. “ You have said it,” was the concise | reply. “Do you not rather mock us with a now fable ?” asked the old woman, an grily, “when you utnuso us with the tale of your poverty, while you wear upon your linger a diamond which would well nigh ransom a province ! Ey vah! wo are not to be cheated twice.” j For a moment the Defter-dar did not reply—for a second his ready wit de serted him—-and the blood rushed in a volume to his brow, as he stood self-con victed of a carelessness which, for aught he knew, might perhaps cost him his life. That the aged fiend who sat with her keen eyes fixed upon him, evidently gloating ever his discomposure, would suffer him to depart after having laid baro before him, for some hidden pur pose of her own, the secrets of her household, he was not weak enough to believe even for an instant; and that she would not scruple to rid herself, by the most effectual means, of so profitless a guest, he was equally assured ; and, in this dilemma, he resolved to make one more attempt, ere ho resigned him self tamely to a fate at which it was not difficult to guess. “ What blossom shall be hidden from the sun ? and what sand rift shall resist the billow ?” exclaimed he, as if in ad miration of the shrewdness of the hos tess. “Is it not vain that I would con ceal even a portion of my secret from Ilemdoune Hanoum, to whom it is giv en to know all things. This ring, Ef fendim ;” and, as in obedience to ages ture of the old woman, ho withdrew it from his finger, and placed it in her hand, he remembered with a pang that the precious jewel had been the gift of the Sultan in his days of court favor, and that it was now, in all probability, ]ost to him forever! —“ This ring is a portion of the mystery. Look on it well, and then tell mo if it be not a diamond of surpassing beauty.” The aged woman readily obeyed: slie passed the glorious jewel on her own bony finger, and, having examined it near the light, and ascertained that it was without spot or blemish ; and that, as she slowly moved her hand to and fro, it gave out a thousand rainbow tuffs, she withdrew with it into a fat corner of the saloon, and there, shading it from- the glare of the tapers, sho ad mired the sparks which, with every j movement that she made, it flung out in to the darkness. “ It is a rare stone !’’ she said, more blandly than sho had yet spoken, as she returned to the side of the Defter dar ; “ the Sultan himself hath not a finer. I would fain hear its history ere I re store it to you.” “That shall you not do, Effendim,” replied her crafty guest, “if its posses sion give you pleasure—nay, offer me no acknowledgments, I pray you,” he added, hastily, as his hostess was about to speak; “keep the bauble, and I will tell you all. I have already stated that 1 am awaiting in Stamboul a merchant iof my acquaintance; but I played you | false when I pleaded poverty as an ex tenuation of my disguise. lam about to coufido to you a secret upon which hangs my life, hut you will not betray me: and brief shall be the period which intervenes ere I repay you a hundred fold for all the courtesies that you have lavished on me. Effendim, tho trinket on your finger is a mere toy—the jewel is counterfeit—l came to the city with many such for sale, and I have parted from them all at a heavy sum, save this, which I letained in a weak fit of senti ment, because it had been given to me by my friend ere he admitted me to share in his adventurous traffic. Many of the stones with which I caine laden to Stamboul have found their way into the treasury of the Sovereign; others are in the harems of our wealthiest pashas, while a few of the meanest arc at this moment the boast and wonder 'of the bezenstein. Were my secret discovered, the bowstring would be my portion; but, meanwhile, so long as I continue unbetrayed, I coin piastres faster than tho inspector of the mint himself.” A deep thoughtfulness settled like a cloud on the stern brow of Ilemdoune j Hanoum, and she did not immediately ’ reply to the communication of her guest: j but, after a while she looked up, and said anxiously, “Do I undeisland that you have no other jewel of the same sort ! in your possession ?” “At this moment, none,” answered the guest, readily; “but my friend and principal, Mechined Cadire Ishmael, who himself manufactures them, should arrive in tho city tomorrow evening at tho latest; and if it be permitted to him to share iu the smiles which have lit up my own existence since sunset, I will answer for the readiness with which ho will re pay the debt of hospitality, by permit ting the Hanoum Eftendi to select a dozen of the stones, ere he offers them for public sale in tho bezenstein, as a memorial of her own character and our gratitude.” “But be will not know where to find you,” suggested the llanoum. “Doubtlessly, should I not myself seek and conduct him hither, he will pursue me in vain,” replied tho Defter dar; “for he will scarcely look to find his comrade Ibrahim in the palaco of a Pasha’s wife,” “\ou shall describe tho good mer chant to my trusty clave Emin;” said the old woman; “and you can write a few words of greeting and invitation, which will he his warrant with your friend.” “You say well, Effendim,” was the ready answer; “but I know not the color of his vest, nor the tint of his turban. Meehmed is from tho desert, and only leaves tho caravan to pass over to the Golden City. Them arc many of his name in the bezenstein, nnd your slave may miss him until his fairest merchan dise is bartered to the dealers in dia monds, and he has no longer any stones to offer to the Hanoum Effendi, or her ladies.” “It is true,” said the croi e, after an. NUMBER 37. oilier pause of thought; “I would have kept you here as a surety for his coming,-, hut the jewel which you leave with me convinces me of your good faith. You shall depart then to-morrow at break of day, and at. sunset I shall expect you hack, accompanied by your friend. It will please mo to see his merchandise, and to hear from him the tale of his desert-pilgrimage.” She then clapped her hands, and a slave, habited in a flow ing robe of crimson and gold, hastily obeyed the signal, and prostrated him self to the earth before her. “Sadtik,” she said with peculiar em phasis; ‘ conduct Ibrahim Eifendi, my honored guest, a to chamber near the half of entrance. At daybreak he will de part—hinder him not—l have told you l my pleasure.” “To hoar is to obey,” was the brief reply ; but, as the slave glanced towards the Defter dar, ho could not wholly con ceal the astonishment which the words o. his mistress had elicited. Conjugal Endearment. “My dear, I'd thank you for a littlo' more sugar in my coffee, if you please.-”’ “My dear ! Don’t dear nte. I’d as soon have you call me my devil as my dear.” “ Well, my devil, then I’d thank you' for a little more sugar in my coffee.” At this proof of affection on the part of the husband, Mrs. Snapdragon burst into tears. Slio had got up, as the say ing is, “ wrong end foremost,” that morn ing, and nothing could please her. Sho was no better pleased with being called my devil than my dear, though she bad 1 a moment before declared that she pre ferred it. On the contrary, she took her husband bitteily to task for his ready compliance with her suggestion. “ Oil you vile, wicked, good-for-no thing man !” she exclaimed; “is it thus; you treat your affectionate wife ? Is it thus you dare apply names to her— names which I dare not mention?” “My devil, you did not mention it just now. You suggested the idea— you put the very word iti my mouth— j and I always like to comply with your wishes, you know. So my dear—my devil, I mean —a little more sugar, if. you please.” “ Sugar, I won’t give you a jot more. I’ll see yon hanged tirst. You use more sweetening than your neck is worth.” “I’ve acquired that habit from having so sweet a wife. Besides, I pay for it with my own money.” “ Now reproach me with what you do. If I did not bring you any money, I brought you respectable connections.” “True you brought all your connec tions and—” “Now you reproach mo with that, do you ? I daro say you grudge my rela tions every mouthful the}' eat while they are here.” “1 grudge them nothing, my dear— I would say my dev—” “ Don’t use that word again, Mr.. Snapdragon; if you do I’ll leave the table.” “Thank you my love; then I’ll help myself to sugar.” “Yes, and you would help yourself, I dare say, if I was gone.” ‘ I am afraid there is little chance of that. But my coffee is cooling while I’m waiting for the sugar.” “Then it will bo like your love, which, has been cooling ever since we wero married.” “ Thank von, my love, there’s nothing like sharp acid for a cooling draught.” “ Sharp acid ! do you call me a sharp acid ? I’ll not endure your taunts any longer. I’ll go homo to my connections. I’ll have a separate maintenance.” “ Whenever you please, my dev—dar ling.” “I won’t take such pesky language from you.” [Going, with the sugar bowl in her hand.] “My dear, leave the sugar bowl, if you please.” “ Here take it.” [Throwing it at his head, and wit.]