Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by R.J. Taylor, Jr. Foundation.
About News & planters' gazette. (Washington, Wilkes County [sic], Ga.) 1840-1844 | View Entire Issue (June 30, 1842)
NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. W. U. UOTTIAW, Editor. No. 14.—NEW SERIES.] & & HAdTEttS” GAIEUE terms: Published weekly at Three Dollars per annum if paid at the time of subscribing; or Three Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid till the expi ration of six months. ’ No paper to be discontinued, unless nt the option of the Editor, without the settlement of all, arrearages. ’ lO* hitters, on business, must be post paid, lo insure attention. No communication shall be published, unless toe are made acquainted rcith the name of the author. TO ADVERTISERS. Advertisements, not exceeding one square, first insertion, Seventy-fire Cents; and for each sub sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction will be made of twenty-five per cent, to those who advertise by the year. Advertisements not limited when handed in, will be inserted till for bid, and charged accordingly. Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad ministrators, and Guardians, are required by law, to be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sales of Personal Property must be adver tised in like manner, forty days. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published weekly for four months; notice that application will bo madefor Letters of ’ Administration, must be published thirty days; and Letters of Dismission, six months. Mail Arrangements. POST OFFICE, > Washington, Ga., January, 1842. \ AUGUSTA MAIL. ARRIVES. Monday', Wednesday, and Friday, at 5, A. M. CLOSES. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 21, P. M. ’ MILLEDGEVILLE MAIL. ARRIVES. Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. RI. CLOSES. Mondays Wednesday, and Friday, at 11, A. M. CAROLINA MAIL. ARRIVES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11, A. M. CLOSES. Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. M. ATHENS MAIL. ARRIVES. Saturday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. CLOSES. Saturday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. ELBERTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Thursday, at 8, P. M. j Thursday, at 8, I’. M. i LINCOLNTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Friday', at 12, M. j Friday, at 12, M. NEW SHOES! TO- WIT, the following : Ladies’ Kid, Calf, and Prunelle Walking Shoes ; Women’s sew’d Kip Shoetees ; Boys’ Calf and Kip Shoes, sew’d and peg’d; Coarse Brogans, making my assortment complete from the smallest size to the largest extra size, low for Cash. . A. 1,. LEWIS. December 16, 1841. 16 JOHN a. CLEVELAND, Dentist, expects to be in Washington about the 15th to 20th instant. June, 1842. JVotice* AI.L persons are forwarned against trading for a Promissory Note given by Henry H. Glaze to Jeremiah Blanchard, dated May 14th, 1838, for twenty-one dollars and thirty-four cts. and due one day after date, as the same has been lost or mislaid. GEO. W. LEWIS, Adm’r. of J. Blanchard, deceased. Lincolnton, June 7,1842. 3t 42 _____ WILL be sold before the Court llouso door in Washington, on the first Tuesday in July next, between the usual hours of sale, a tract of Land lying on Rocky Creek in Wilkes County adjoining lands of Jacob L. Zellars, Jones Kendrick, John Q. West and others, containing Four Hundred Acres more or less, Terms made known on the day of sale. WILLIAM M. BEALL. JOSEPH H. BEALL. June 15th 1842. JVotice* * A LL persons indebted io the late firm of Mc- A MILLAN & VINCENT, are requested to make payment immediately to JOHN H. DYSON. January 6, 1842. 19 J For Sate* A HOUSE and LOT, well im proved and pleasantly situated in the |, ' ovvn 01 V/ahVngton. For further sSBESi articular?, anj\ to STEPHEN G. PETTUS. May 19,1842. 53 ADMINISTRATOR i- SALE. WILL be sold on the lirst Tuesday in Juiy next, before the Court-House door in Washington; Wilkes county, between the lecai sale hours, the following Property, to-wit: One Tract of Land containing twenty-three Acres, more or less, lying in said county, joining Irvine and others, belonging to the estate of Bai ley-Lunsford, deceased. Sold for the benefit ol the heirs and creditors. Terms made known on the day of sale. PETER LUNSFORD, Adm’r. May 5,1842. 36 IklOuil months afterdate application will be . made to the Honorable the Inferior Court of Wilkes county, while sitting as a Court of Ordinary, to sell the Real Estate and Negroes . tjjplonging to the Minors of John Coleman. ° JOHN Q. WEST, Guardian. ‘P i June 9,1842. m4m A N L) REMOROINIQ’ \\ r ATCHES, Clocks, and Jewelry of every * * description repaired and warranted, by A. W. KING. Washington, April 28,1842. 35 Reduction ! THE Subscriber respectlully informs the public, that owing to the change in times, he will work at the following reduced prices: Putting in Main-spring, §2 00 “ Hair “ 1 00 “ Verges, 2 50 “ New Chain, 1 50 “ best Lunett Chrystals, 75 “ Flint “ 50 “ Common “ 371 Cleaning Lever Watch, 1 50 “ Common “ 75 And all other work in proportion. ET Work entrusted to his care will be prompt ly and faithfully executed, and as the prices are considerably reduced, he hopes still to receive a share of public patronage. ITT All work warranted, and unless satisfac tion is given, no charge made. R. H. VICKERS. May 5,1842. 36 To the Public* P|THE undersigned will commence a School -X. in the house lormerly occupied by Mrs. Allison, on Monday the ISth instant, designed to be one of a permanent -baracter. This Institu tion does not appos: be c; the Public in an atti tude of hostility <■■■, put only in that friendly rivalry, r i . ronage so iar as it u.-, ol the Subscriber to v. community with that of :h. will endeavor to do, fir.si, and ci.icib, vering effort on his part to raise the ; solid Education, and to confer its beneii utmost of his ability, upon those commute charge: And, secondly, by reducing the i- os ol Tuition 60 as to correspond with the preset: pecuniary pressure, which has touched our own community as well as the country generally, with its withering influence. Pupils will be prepared for admission into any College, either Northern or Southern. Rates of Tuition : Ist. Orthography, Reading, Writing, with El ementary Geography and Arithmetic. 84 50 per quarter. 2d. Practical Arithmetic, Algebra, Geography, Grammar, Natural and Mental Philosophy, Lo gic, Beile-Letlers, and Chemistry, 86 25 per quarter. 3rd. Latin, Greek and French Languages, Ge ometry, Day’s Course of Mathematics, including Logarithms, Trigonometry, Mensuration ol Heights and Distances, anil Surveying, 88 per quarter. A. L. LEWIS. N. B.—Stated recitations in the Bible will be required of all the Pupils sufficiently advanced to profit by them. April 14, 1843. 33 THE Copartnership heretolore existing at Petersburg, Georgia, under the copartner ship name and style of SPEED; HESTER, & Cos., was dissolved on the 31st December last.— Said Copartnership being composed of Wade Speed, James M. Hester, and Uriah O. Tate. U. O. TATE. May 3, 1842. 36 ADMINISTRATOR’S SALE. VM7TLL be sold before the Court-House door * * in the townof Washington, Wilkes coun ty, on the first Tuesday in July next, a Negro Man, named Sandy. Sold os the property of Matthew Favor, deceased. Sold ior tiie purpose of mak ing a division among the heirs, the first children ot Nathan Eckles, deceased, being the heirs in this case. Terms made known on the day of sale. THOMAS FAVER, Adm’r. April 21,1842. of Matthew Favor, dec. GEORGIA, ( Whereas Baker Lipscomb, Wilkes County. $ Guardian of Wylie M. Pope, applies for Letters of dismission. These are, therefore, to cite, summon, and admoniD', all and singular, the kinilred and creditojf ol said Minor, to be and appear at my office, d ithin the time prescribed by law, to show cause, (if any they have,) why said letters should not be granted. Given under my hand at office, this 23d of March, 1842. JOH NH. DYSON, Clerk c. o. March 31. m6m 31 GEORGIA, I Whereas, James M. Smythe, Wilkes county, j applies to me for Letters of Dismission on the Estate of Samuel M. Smythe, deceased. These arc, therefore, to cite, summon, and ad monish, all and singular, the kindred and credi tors of said deceased, to be and appear at my of fice, within the time prescribed by law, to show cause (if any they have,) why said letters should not be granted. under my hand at office, this 9th of May, JOHN H. DYSON, c. c. o. May 12. m6m 37 months after date application will be made to the Honorable the Inferior Court ol Wilkes county, while sitting as a Court ot Or dinary, ior leave to sell the Land belonging to the estate of Edward Jones, deceased. FELIX G. HENDERSON, Adm’r. April 7,1842. de bonis non. I TOUR months after date, application will be made to the Inferior Court of Wilkes county, while sitting as a Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell the Land belonging to the Estate of Joseph Beil,late of said county, deceased. MART H. BELL, Aum’x. May 26,1842. m4m 39 tTOUR months aitpr date application will he X- made to the Honorable the Interior Court oi Wilkes court, while sitting as a Court of Or dinary, ior leave to sell a lot of Land, No. 233, in the 10th District, Carroll county, Ga., belong ing to the Estate of Rebecca Allison, deceased. 0 G. L. RARESTR2 W, Tx’r. March 17,1842. „ mlm\ 29 PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) JUNE 30. 1842. From the Boston Miscellany. “ THE LAST SERENADE.” BY FRANCIS CARLISLE. “ Why was it,” asked my young musi cal friend Allan, “that you so decidedly refused to help out our serenade last night, and in fact prevented us from doing any thing about it, bv your obstinacy ?” “ Oh ! that’s too old to quiz about,” an swered I. “ Quiz about!” said he, “ I didn’t know you knew anything of the people we want ed to sing to ; and you don’t, what is in the wind ?” “ Come, come, Allan, take your laugh and be done. I give up the subject of se renading to your mercy, and don’t want to talk any more about it. Fill my glass.” “ But what do you mean ?” said he, look ing astonishingly green at my answers.— “ Leave the subject of serenading ! you u sed to sing with us ; why, this is getting serious ; do tell me what it means ?” 11 Means? You know all about the Dcl avan, don’t you ?” “ The Delevan ? No. This must be one of your cracks during my absence.— Let me behind the scenes pray, that I may account for the loss of the primo basso of the old club.” “ Well,” said I, “ if you are serious in your ignorance,” and by much questioning and urging? I persuaded myself that he was, 1 I’ll tell you the story, and if you have patience push me another cigar, and I 11 foil it to you from the beginning, in re gular novvektte fashion.” ‘ Last spring, soon after you left, or, I dan the affair better than that if I take •■h start: the clock struck twelve the i ; ght 1 was twenty-two -years old. One clock struck after another, and I raised the window to look out upon the still streets, as their various sounds came, piercing the si lence from this side and that. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and it seemed as if its softness had stolen upon us unawares, that it might be enjoyed in stillness by those few who know how to appreciate the mild night watches. I listened in vain, even, for the quick, smart, foot-fall of some late home-goer, that usually makes our city night silence more marked, and it seemed to me almost wicked to retire to bed, and shut out from sense this most beautiful and se rene of the twenty-four hours. This 1 did not do. I went quietly down stairs, and slipping on a loose overcoat —for romance aside, he who would enjoy our spring eve nings, must be well guarded—l strolled out into the pure air. “ I passed lingeringly up this street and down that, my feet wandering as much without a guide as my thoughts, and I hard ly knew where I was when my eye was at tracted by the head of a beautiful female, who was leaning from a chamber window of an opposite house, looking out upon the moonlight. The moon shone full upon her face, and this circumstance, which had pro bably, from the light falling into her room, called her to her window, threw the side of the street upon which I was walking com pletely in the shade. I stood still ; my ap pearance and my sudden pause having been perfectly noiseless in my slippered feet— and gazed at her, as she gazed at the moon. I do not know that I then knew that her hair was golden and luxuriant, and her eye blue, and liquid, and large, shrouded by long dark lashes, but I thought her one of the most beautiful beings I had ever seen. You need not smile ; I had none of the sus picions that we who are wise learn to en tertain from the deceptiveness of moon light ; there was no doubt here. I stood, almost holding my breath, I do not know how long, it seemed a moment, and yet that moment seemed an age; when she drew back, and drew down her curtain. “ Before I had moved from my place, there was a flash in the climber, and the window curtains became illuminated by a low, steady light, as she lighted her lamp. There seemed to be hut one thing to do. I stepped forward to the edge of the shade in which I was standing, so that I was just hidden from view, and in a low tone, for it seemed as if I might have whispered to her and she would have heard in that quiet at mosphere, I began to sing “ Sleep, lady, sleep.” “As I went on, my whole soul in the music, or such music as there was, I saw the shadow of her form upon the curtain, as she passed once or twice between it and the light, and then she sat down by the window, unconscious, I suppose, that the profile of her head, as it rested on her hand, was faithfully pourtrayed in my sight. I sang on, and on ; such songs as I knew, and could not help singing, and she sat motion less there, until I felt I could sing no long er, and with a last and lingering look at the faithful shadow, drew myself off towards home. “Over and over in my mind turned the feelings this little adventure had excited, and I wondered why I had not sung this or that other song which would have express ed my interest more warmly ; why I had nr.” done something more to show this inter est ; why I had not spoken to her, —and brooded over a thousand other speculations. At last my thoughts began to run into verse, and I conned over, as it were, to my self, a serenade, that seemed as if it would have come at once to my lips, had I only had wit enough to sing it while I was be fore her. I even thought of going back to sing it, but my reason got the bette- : and then 1 had no tune ; and I went home, and wrote out my verses, and went to bed. I am stretching this out so well that I will sparo you my dreams. Suffice it to say, they were sweet and rich; a,nd that after a long waking and sleeping doze, 1 rose at last, at the hour at which I think a wise man should. I need not explain to you my creed about that, I did not do much that forenoon. Nothing looks very golden before dinner. We make all our good resolutions, and do and say all our good tilings at night. Some dreamers have attempted to persuade us that love in a cot tage, with bread and milk for breakfast, gets up with the sun and looks as smilingly at itself and all the world, as when that sun goes down, or when the moon rises ;.and 1 knew one woman myself who looked as freshly and as beautiful when she rose In the morning, and moved, really seeming awake about the house in her morning cos tume, as she did at any part of the day.— And she was really beautiful; hut she is already growing ofd while young, and her checks have paled, and her smooth skin has lost its softness and brilliance, and it may be owing to this glory of past days ; these early morning hours must he the ruin of many a fair face. They talk of the beau ties of our cities pining and fading under the influence of fashionable habits, of lute going to bed and late rising ; perhaps after all it is in spite of them. “Be this as it may, I went languidly dreaming on, though awake, until dinner. Many things seemed impossible tiien, that seemed the most proper the night before, and I found I could not do much to carry on my adventure. 1 however turned over all the operas I had, to find an air for my sere nade, and thununed away upon the piano, trying this movement and that, till all the family bad wondered what had set me so suddenly upon my solfeggios. The air was found at last, or half found, half made, for I doubt not Auber, could ho have heard it, would have resigned to me the full credit of it, and very well, as 1 thought, it went too ; and if ever I should be persuaded to serenade again, I will ‘fix’ it for four voices and you shall judge for yourself. ‘ In the afternoon l walked down the street, by the house of my duleinea, but the blinds were closed and no one was visible. There was no name upon the door but I marked the number, and witli the aid of Mrs. Mayor,sent a beautiful bouquet to that number, just at night-fall. I thought of many a message and device to send with the flowers, but decided as was wisest, to let them speak for themselves. If flowers have a language, it is one which never, like ours, make a fool of any body. ■‘l got through the evening by the aid of some party, of which 1 recollect nothing, and at about twelve I again stole quietly down the now familiar street. All was perfectly still, but the soft light was burn ing in her chamber again, behind the cur tains, and the windows too were open.— Waiting till I lost the sound of the last rece ding footstep, 1 tremblingly began with the song I sung last the night before. Imme diately a shadow moved across the curtain and by it I saw that she had again taken her position by the window. My heart ! leaped so in my breast that I could hardly goon, but go on I did. I then sang my own serenade—then I paused. I had” sung so long the night before, that more might well have been expected ; but after a silence of some moments the shadow rose, and it grew larger and dimmer as she drew nearer the lamp. Soon she returned and I saw her fair hand (I knew it was fair,) push aside the curtain and drop something on the side walk. I rushed forward and picked up two flowers tied together by a ribbon. As I looked up she was just drawing in her head which had been extended to see the fate of her missive. “ ‘Lady!’ said I, but she closed the win dow at once and withdrew. “I watched for some moments in vain, for her return, and then went olf, bearing my trophy, and somewhat elated. When I got home I found that this consisted of a ! simple, although somewhat marked flower j from my bouquet, tied up with a fresh rose- j bud, which I believed was not from it. I 1 thought this a very tasteful gage on her part and was not a little proud of the achieve ment on my own. As to the desperate state ■of ft elirtg into which I was thrown, I may as well spare you any attempt at recital.— I again made plan after plan, for the next day, as I lav in bed till I fell asleep ; and dreams mixed themselves with my waking projects, so that when I awoke in the morn ing it was rather difficult to distinguish them. Both were equally preposterous and impracticable. “Something, I determined, however, must be done. So I armed myself with a fresh bouquet, (in the front of which I placed her rosebud, now nearly withered,) and my card, and at a due time presented myself at the well known door. I gave the card and flowers to the servant, directing h : m to give them to ‘the lady,’ and inquire whether she would see me. I had attempted again and again to prepare an answer, in case he should ask me ‘what lady?’ but without success ; and fortunately he made no such inquiry, highlyjudicious though it might have been. She would see mo he said on returning ; so, armed with such courage as j I could summon, and prepared to shake olf: the embarrassment of any’ blunder or mis- j understanding with as much grace—not to j say impudence—as I could muster, I was; ushered up stairs. “She came forward to meet me, beaut:- ; ful as an ancle. But.—-how shall I tel! j you,—(fov J saw it at aglnnce, and itdash | ed my pleasure even in the moment of re | cognising her) Allan ; she was a widow ! I her dress and air spoke it to the eye in a i moment. I fear a,widow, —hut you and e- I very body understand that philosophy now, and I need not enlarge upon it. Then too I admire a widow, —but you and every bo dy know their fascinations too. My tumul tuous mixture of feelings, then, on making j this sudden discovery, you may perhaps j imagine. But my pleasure immediately overcame every oilier sensation ; and with, i believe, hardly a shade over my counte nance, I advanced to meet her really cor dial greeting. “Ah, Mr. Minstrel,’ said she, smiling—‘l j know it must be you, and [ am very glad i 1 toseeyou,and to discover by your card that ! you are at least a friend of my, friends.— j Let me introduce you to Mrs. Julia Dela van,’ —and she drew herself up in a pseudo j stately manner, and bowed, to show that j she herself was the person introduced. “I took Iter hand which she frankly ex tended, and she led me to a sofa, where we j seated ourselves. Without a moment’s em- 1 barrassment, she began to speak of the flow- 1 ers, for both of which she thanked me with undisguised pleasure. 1 felt at ease from the first and with such sprightliness as I could, in a tone half gal hint/ half earnest, spoke of my first sight of her, by moonlight, which had induced me to make myself heard. She took this gaily and in good part, blamed herself for the indiscretion, j but affected to congratulate herself on its j results, and a little mutual flattering, and a little self-satisfaction, soon put us upon a j very pleasant looting of good feeling, and 1 1 forgot that she was a widow. We found that we had a good many acquaintances in i common—even friends. She was recent!v i arrived from Philadelphia, and being in i mourning for somebody—not for her hus band, then, I believe, or at least hope ; did j not go into any society, and I had not ! heard there was such a person in town.— ; Wc talked enough of these things and'poo- i pie to get ourselves thoroughly introduced, and after an hour or more whfbh glided off j very pleasantly and rapidly, I ‘took my I leave, promising to call again very soon, and letting her know plainly enough, 1 ini- j agine, that 1 meant to keeji my word. “And so 1 went home as happy as a king, j Having now found out whom she knew. 1 ‘ went to sec her the next day with my aunt L. Mrs. Delavan received us very cordial ly, and when soon my thoughtful aunt be took herself to Iter ‘other calls to make,’ and i I subsided again into my old seat upon the i soia, I thought that although our chat was not quite so gay and brilliant as that of vrs- ; terdav, there was a great deal more mean ing in it. 1 felt that 1 had got on very well, I and pluming myself somewhat upon my I reputation, I entertained no doubt that, she i had been making inquiries, and had by this | means discovered what a well behaved, i knowing, interesting and withal discreet,! young man 1 was.—l staid till there was : no doubt it was every-body’s dinner time, I and got away with the conclusion that I had ‘gained a day.’ “Upon this I went to work to ask ques tions myself, and the answers were very satisfactory. The ‘late lamented’ Mr. De lavan, had .left his young wife, a lady of: good family and ‘standing in society,’ a i large fortune, the result of his own mcrcan- j tile labors. Me had been dead two or three 1 years, and the fair Julia had been enabled j by her sprightly disposition to recover from his loss, and now hardly ever alluded to J her former spouse. Thus if she was pleased | with the position, of affairs, I was, & 1 knew j that I might enter into a ‘flirtation,’ to say ! the least, without fearing the cold water j restraints of prudent money-matter friends. ] “I continually saw her, —almost every : day ; now at her own house, and now at \ tiiose of friends, when the company was not j too large to make her half-mourning a pro- j hibition. Then as the summer opened 1 began to take her to drive; and every pleas- i ant afternoon as the sun drew near to the ! horizon, rny modest equippago might be | seen driving away from the door, bearing j on some expedition or other, two of the hap piest people—if one of them might be al lowed to judge; that that sun looked upon j in its course. To one of your experience Ii need not tell what all this was leading to, ! and was. For a time, notwithstanding all j my prudent inquiries, I only looked upon it ■ as a matter of passe-temps. XV e liked each other, and it was pleasant to be as often to- I gether as wc might, and to go to a pleasant j place, and to do as pleasant things together | as we could invent. This, however, can-’ not last forever. People in such cases, as j you have found out, will keep moving a step farther and a step farther, until at last j they get to a fatal brink ; —and such is the j fascination, that ten to one they jump off. “Yes, lam really hurrying on. About j this time your cousin Jane, just married, j and wishing to show off her new country house and grounds, made a sort of fete \ champetreoao afternoon, for all our little! circle. Mrs. Delavan was persuaded to | go, as it was by no means a formal or dress affair. We went out about sun set, and af ter proper performances in the house, we j all adjourned to the grove, to have some ! music, and enjoy the cool air and the moon- | light. It was a glorious evening, and we had a very gay time, which I dare say your letters have told you all about. But ofonc ! little piece of secret history they could not j have informed you. During a romping j dance tiiat we got up, in which Julia—l| mean Mrs. Delavan—was my partner, I j had boen enlarging to her -m the fact that if in. J. KAPriIL, Printer. 1 she were to return to town in my gig. “'hh mo, instead of the close carriage with three other ladies, as she had come out, she would ; see the countrv and enjoy the air much bet ter! To this she assented, but urged that j it could not bo accomplished without cau j sing remark. lat last persuaded her to consent,however, isl would manage it wise ly and well, and 1 planned and executed the j affair with almost your skill. “First I attacked little Mrs. , who j had come thereon horseback, upon the cool ness and dampness of the night air, and the I great risk .she ran of taking severe cold, if ! she undertook to return as she came. Then ! having frightened her almost out of her lit tle wits, 1 suggested to her that peihaps | Mrs. Delavan would give up her seat in the 1 carriage, and ride the horse into the city in ! her place. While she was protesting a i gainst making such a request as this, 1 ran | off’as if to attempt to bring it about myself, j and soon returned with the matter all set tled in this way : —Mrs. was to go home | in the carriage ; our ‘inscrutably’ good na ! tured friend Howard, who had come with ! me in the gig, would consent to ride home | the horse, side-saddle, horns, and all, and : Mrs. Delavan could take his scat with me. This seemed plausible, and little Mrs. , accompanied by Howard, who had his cue and his thanks from me, rushed up to Mrs. Delavan, who was surrounded by several of the party, and proposed the plan to her. | and she graciously accepted ‘n, provided 1 j would consent to it l Site did not think it j right that my vehicle should be disposed of !so cavalierly in my absence ! 1 was sum j tnoned, and, of course acquiesced, with no more than commonplace gallantry, and the ’ matter was arranged—and so as soon as j might he we all got away. . “How very often when two people have both, j been preparing and fostering the most in i tricatc stratagems to get together alone,they I find it hard to begin upon what they have to say ! There we were placed side by side ! in the still country, with its soft summer air j and the full moon shedding its subduing j and beautifying light on all around; and |we had been—it is true without any allu sion to the pleasure to he derived from eacli j other—for a full half hour planning and ! manoevring to be so placed, and neither ! for the first quarter of a mile said a single j word! I don’t believe I should have ever ! spoken, hut these women ; you know their ways, Allan, soon bring the true matter to light on such occasions, and we were before ! long in full discourse with tongues, and hands and eyes. And then, for the first i time, I told her—but i need not tell you ! what I told her. and alter all 1 had not much :to tell, nor hud she much to tell me. For ,it scented we knew it ail before. Only we | explained, and arranged and lightened our j consciences, by making sure nothing was concealed. Such a glorious drive I never I conceived. Not that we clashed along vc ! ry fast either ; for 1 had but one had to ; drive with, and was obliged to keep Clara : in a walk all the way, to prevent hci from I being restive. However, we had as I said, Ia glorious drive,and when 1 left the beauti- I ful Julia at the door, having taken one las’, kiss—why,—that is the end of the story.’ ” “The end of the story, why! how? what because of Mrs. Delavan?” cried Allan. “Mrs. Delavan! she left for Philadelphia j the next day, and was married about a i month ago to the rich Mr. Higginbotham.” “Married !” persisted he—“l understood you that you had perfectly settled it that. | you and she were over head and oars in | love with each other.” “So ! did say, ami so we did. But she concluded to go olf, and after the lapse of a j few months to marry somebody else. She I was a widow, you know, so there was no i harm in it.” j “Come, come. Frank, explain said he; is this all I am to know?” I “Why, you may know what I have gues j sed out. You may remember that there | is another Frank Carlisle, my ever respec j ted and sober-minded cousin, whose fortune | is to mine as the sands of the sea-shore are ! to those of an hour-glass. At the time of the I Delavan, he was living in a state of retira j cy, busy in getting engaged to his present ! wife. It now appears, that until the an | nouncement of this match, my beautiful ‘vidder,’ —who doubtless thought that poo-, ! pie should marry others of fortune equal to. I their own; an opinion in which, were I in j her place, I might coincide ; was laboring j under the impression that your humble ser ] vant, was no less a person than bis noble j cousin. Having discovered her mistake j the very morning after our countrv party, i she very wisely thought, that unless she [ meant to continue under the consequences j of that mistake, she had better leave the field.” “But was there no explanation,—no at i tempt .3 self-justification?” j “She wrote me, before going, a very sen ! timental little note, beginning—‘Dearest j Frank,’ the purport of which was, that she believed her susceptibility had been too j much for her the night before, that she I feared it would he very long before we I should meet again, but she hoped we should ii ver be friends. A correspondence of but I short duration followed, of which 1 have i kept copies if you would like to see it.— j But of course we both felt well out of the I scrape,—sho for reesv.'isofherown, and ! j for reasons of mi:..', i “Well it was a strange affair:” | “So strange that I have come to the con ! elusion that I have sung buy last serenade.’ But—nas? : : a I ugr s‘crv ‘ fVOLUME AXVII.
