Newspaper Page Text
VOL. 2.
Rail Road Sons.
Written for the Georgia Citizen,
BY T. H. CIIIVERS, M. D.
’ •
All aboard ! Yes!—Tingle, tingle,
Goes the bell as we all mingle—
Ko one sitting solely single—
As the steam begins to fizzle
With a kind of sighing sizzle—
Ending in a piercing whistle—
As the Fireman builds his fire,
And the steam gets higher, higher—
Thus fulfilling his desire—
Which forever he keeps feeding
With the pine-knots he is needing,
As lie on his way goes speeding—
Till the Iron Horse goes rushing,
With his fiery face all flushitfg—
Every thing before him crushing—
While the smoke goes upward curling,
.Spark-bespangled in unfurling,
And the iron wheels go whirling,
like two mighty millstones grinding,
When no Miller is them minding—
All the eye with grit-dust blinding^-’
And the cars begin to rattle,
And the springs go tittle—tattle—
Driving off the grazing cattle—
As if Death were Hell pursuing
To his uttermost undoing,
Down the iron road to ruin—
With a elitta, clatta, clatter,
Like the Devil beating batter
Up in Hell, in iron platter,
As if something was the matter ;
Then it changes to a clanking,
And a clinking, and u clanking,
And a clanking, and a clinking—
Then returns to clatta, clatta,
Like the Devil beating batter
Up in Hell, in iron platter;
And the Song that 1 n u w offer
For Apollo's Golden Coffer —
With the friendship that I proffer—
Is for riding on a Kail.
2.
Thus, from Station on to Station,
Right along through each Plantation,
As if Hell, for our damnation,
Had come down with Desolation— y
This great Iron Horse goes rushing,
With his fiery face all flushing—
Every thing before him crushing,
Sometimes fester, sometimes slower—
Sometimes higher, sometimes lower—
As if Time, the great World mower,
Had come down for his last reaping
.Of tho Nations waiting, weeping—
While, the Engine, overteeming,
With excruciating screaming,
Spits his vengeance out in steaming,
While the wheels are whirling under,
Like the Chariot wheels of Thunder,
When the Lightning rends asunder
All the clouds thaisttam from Ocean,
When he pays the Moon devotion—
With a grinding rhythmic motion—
Till the frightened Sheep arc scattered,
Like the clouds by Lightning tattered,
And the Gates of God are battered
With the elitta, clatta, clatter,
Like the Devil beating batter
Up in Hell, in iron platter—
Still repeating elitta, clatter,
Clitta, clatta, elitta, clatter,
As if something was the matter—^
While the Woodlands all are ringing,
And the Birds forget their singing,
And away to Heaven go winging
Os their flight to hear the clatter,
Clitta, clatta, clatta, clatter,
Like the Devil beating batter
Up in Hell, in iron platter—
Which continues so, till coining
To a straight line, when the humming
Is so mixed up with the drumming,
That the Cars begin to rattle
And the springs go tittle tattle—
Frightening off the grazing cattle —
Like Hell’s thunder-river roaring.
Over Death's dark Mountain pouring
Into space, forever boring
Through th’ abysmal depths, with clatter,
Clitta, clatta, clatta, clatter,
Like the Devil beating batter
Up in Hell in iron platter—
Then expands into a clanking,
And a clinking, and a clanking,
And a clanking, and a clinking—
Then returns to clatta, clatter,
AT-htta, clatta, clatta, clatter,
Like the Devil beating batter
Up in Hell in iron platter—
Which subsides into a elahky,
And a clanky, clanky, clanky,
And a clinky, and a clanky ;
Then returns again to fizzle,
With a kind of sighing sizzle—
Ending in a piercing whistle—
And the Song that I now offer
For Apollo’s Golden Coffer—
With the friendship that I proffer—
Is for riding on a Rail.
From the Louisvills Journal.
The Surviving Heroes of the Revolu
tion to the Disunionists.
[These lines were suggested by the following occur
rence : A company of disunionists, in one of the South
ern States, being on their way to a convention, over
took a revolutionary soldier, with whom they entered
into conversation, On his inquiring their destination,
they said : s We are going to a convention which is
todevise some means for dissolving the Union.” The
old mau shook his head sorrowfully and replied, “wait
a little while till I am dead !’’]
Not while our eyes behold
The goodly land for which in youth we bled,
Re its fair field with ruin overspread—
W e are but few and old
And soon to slumber with the nameless dead.
Then oh, a while delay,
To strike the fatal and the traitorous blow
hich lays for aye our gallant eagle low,
Till we have passed away,
seen, with dimming eyes, our country’s woe.
If Him ye tire of peaoe
And the rare gifts that glorious eagle brings
’loall our land, beneath his outspread wings,
Bid the blest Union cease,
hile deep the kneil for murdered freedom rings ?
Rut ere beneath the rage
Fparricides our native country bleeds,
Riot out the record of our early deeds,
Lest happily that fair page,
ith brutal scorn, some future tyrant reads.
Though it to heaven aspires,
Rreak down each pile of monumental stones,
towering form of marble and of bronze—
Lest statues of the sires
L.'jslt for the deeds of their degenerate sons *
Give to devouring flame
The painter’s canvass and the poet’s verse,
Which proudly did our gallant deeds rehearse,
Let not our blood-bought fame
Become a jest, a by word, and a curse.
When madly ye’ve destroyed
The noble work won by our youthful glaves,
leaves us to sleep in unremembered graves —
Be not our dust annoyed
By the vile honors of ungrateful slaves !
Gallatin , Tenn., 1851.
The Rich Man.
BY J. W. WHITFIELD.
The Rich Man thinks his gold his own,
And all his gold can bring ;
The Rich Man thinks, when thus he thinks,
Avery foolish thing.
lie builds a palace, beautiful;
The graceful columns rise,
And while he thinks them all his own,
They glad a thousand eyes.
He spreads his floral garden round—
The roses bud and bloom ;
But with himself we all enjoy
Their beauty and perfume.
Ilis noble chargers paw and prance—
The Rich Man’s heart is proud ;
He sees them with one pair of eyes,
But thousands have the crowd.
Ilis parlor walls are loaded down
With gems of art —to please
Himself, he thinks—to please, in truth,
The poorest man that sees.
The stately hall, the cultur’d grove —
The park with pebbled way —
The leaping font that sweetly sings,
For these he has to pay.
And pay that other eyes may gaze
And feast without a care;
The joy is ours—the task his own
To please them and prepare.
Brooklyn, April, 1851.
A true American Girl.—.l find the follow,
ing in the columns of the Memphis (Tenn.)
Enquirer, and copy it to show ol what stufl’our
American girls are made.
AM odel of a WoMAN.-Some time since a
man residing a short distance from the city,
‘shuffled off this mortal coil,’ leaving a wife
and three daughters apparently helpless and
penniless, upon the world. In this emergency
the eldest daughter about sixteen years of age
—what Burns calls a a ‘bonnie’ sweet, and
bonnie lass, —a whole arm full of health,
virtue and rural beauty—resolved to make an
etlbrt for the support of her mother and sisters.
A warm-hearted neighbor offered her, at
her own solicitation, 75 cents per cord for cut
ting wood, being an advance of 2b cents on the
usual price for such employment-.,commonly
considered ihe most laborious even for the
sterner sex. Nothing daunted, however, our
heroine commenced operations, and by dint of
application and economy, in a short time man
aged to save enough from her earnings to buy
her a wagon and team. She is now seen
selling wood in our streets, and unloading as
actively as any wood carrier who drives to
our city—-pitching out the logs with her own
fair hands. We cordially commend this lady
—for such she is in reality—to speh of our
bachelor friends as are matrimonially inclined.
We care not in what rank of ljfe such a wo
man may be found, she is a treasure, In the
midst of poverty, toil and want, her virtue is
unimpeachable, and she has only sought by
unwonted labor to support herself and relatives
by the toil of her own hands. Had not our
heart another shrine which claims its homage,
we know not that this moral heroine.—this
Joan of Arc of the affections—might not tempt
us to violate Mr. Norton’s oft-repeflted injunc
tion to ‘love not.’ As it is, we advise our
bachelor friends to ‘pay attention’ to our
‘wood,’ not the ‘flower’ ‘girl.’
What a llod-man can do. —Many people turn up
their noses at what they call ‘dirty work,’ although all
honest labor was not cleaner than many kid glove ways
of swindling one’s way through the world. Rather
than owe our living to the latter, we would infinitely pre
fer to shake carpets or sweep chimneys at fifty cents
per day. A day or two since we learned an instructive
bit of history touching a doer of ‘dirty work’—a hod
man. No matter where he was born, he was none of
the worse for being a Turkman or an Irishman. lie
cane to this city about ten years ago, young, healthy,
and honest, lie could get no employment but hod
carrying. and he carried so well as to earn at once his
dollar a day. He procured cheap but good lodgings ;
spent none of his money ip groggeries or low places ;
attended church on the Sabbath ; educated himself qii
evenings ; laid up money ; and at the ep.d qf five years
bought a lot in the city, and built a pretty cottage. In
one year more he found a good wife, and used the cot
tage he had before rented out. For these six years he
had steadily carried his hod- He was a noted worker,
an acknowledged scholar, and a noble pattern of a man.
On the opening of the eighth year his talents and integ
rity were called to a more profitable account. He em
barked as a partner in a professional busiuess already
well established. This day he is worth at least SIOO,-
000, has a lovely wife and two beautiful children, a
home that is the centre of a brilliant, social and intellec
tual circle, and be is one of the happiest and most hon
ored of men as far as he is known. So much has come
of a hod-man.— New Yorker.
From the Greenville Southern Patriot.
The Hampton Massacre. —In our route to Spar
tanburg Court House the other day, we passed near by
where occurred in the Revolutionary war a bloody
massacre. The bodies of General Wade Hampton's
father, mother and brothers lie buried in Spartanburg
District, ca the waters of the Tyger river, where they
were most treacherously niurdeJed by the Cherokee
Indians at the commencement of the Revolutionary war.
Anthony Hampton, the father, with his wife and daugh
ter, Mrs. James Harrison, and his sous, Preston, Hen
ry and Edward, moved to Spartanburg District about
the year 1774. At the commencement of the troubles
between tho Colonies and the mother country, it was a
matter of deep concern to the inhabitants on the fron
tiers of South Carolina, tfiat the Cherokee Indians
should not engage in the war. In order to secure their
peace, Preston and Henry Hampton made them a visit
and formed an acquaintance with their chiefs and head
men. But they had already been seduced by the Brit
ish Government, and about the time that llenry Clin
ten and Sir Peter Parker made their attack on Charles
ton, they commenced their incursions on the frontiers
of the State.
The Indians approached Mr.‘Hampton's house and
some of tire head men were recognized by Preston
Hampton. As he extended so them the hand pf friend
“ !Mrjienfrfnt in nlf tilings- —leutrnl in notijing.”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 21, 1851.
ship they slew him to the ground, and immediately af
terwards they killed Mr. Anthony Hampton, his wife
and a little grand child, the infant of Mrs. James Har
rison. A lad, by the name of John Bynum, was
taken by the Indians from Mr. Hampton's and adopted
as their son. lie remained many years with them,
and was afterwards restored under the treaty of 1777.
Immediately after this massacre, Col. Williamson
raised a large body of militia and marched into the
Cherokee Nation and destroyed a large number of their
towns and settlements, llenry Hampton killed, with
his own hand, an Indian warrior who had his brother
Preston Hampton’s coat on in the engagement. Ed
ward Hampton, at the time of the massacre, was at Ray
lis Earle’s on Packolet, whose daughter he married. In
this way he escaped the massacre, but was himself af
terwards shot by the ‘‘bloody scout” in his own house.
Edward Hampton ivasa bold cavalier, and one of the
best horsemen of his age in South Carolina. Generajp
Wade Hampton was, at this time in North Carolina.
Famine in India. —A British writer, recently re
marking on the honors which sometimes attend Chris
tain rule in Pagan lands, sketches the following graphic
but fearful picture :
“Turn your eyes backward upon the scenes of the
past year. Go with me into the northwest Provinces
of the Bengal presidency, and I will show you the
bleached skeletons of five hundred thousand human be
ings who perished of hunger in the space of a few short
months. Yes, died of hunger, in what has been justly
called the granary of the world. The air, for miles, was
poisoned with the effluvia emitted from the putrifying
bodies of the dead. The rivers were choked with the
corpses thrown into their channels. Mothers cast their
little ones beneath the rolling waves, because they would
not see them draw their last grasp, and feel them stiffen
in their arms. Jackals and vultures approach and
fasten upon the bodies of men before life was extinct.
Madness, disease and despair stalked abroad, and no
human power present to arrest their progress.
‘‘And this occurred in British India, in the reign of
Victoria the First. Nor was this event extraordinary
or unforseen. Far from it. Eighteen hundred and
thirty five witnessed a famine in the northern provinces.
Eighteen hundred and twenty two saw one in the De
ccan. They have continued to increase in frequency
and extent under our sway for more than half a century.
Under the administration of Lord Clive, a famine in
the Bengal provinces swept off three millions ! —and, at
that time, the British speculators in India had their
granaries tilled to repletion with corn ! Horrid mo
nopoly of the necessaries of life ! Three millions died,
while there was food enough to spare, locked up in the
storehouses of the rich. To add to the horror with
which we are now called to regard the last dreadful
carnage—(that of last year)—we are made acquainted,
by the returns of the custom house, with the fact that
as much grain has been exported from the lower parts
of Bengal, as would have fed tlie half milliun who per
ished, for whole year!”
Free, glorious, anti-slavery England !
“ slavescanuot breathe in England!”
says the flunkey poet of British abominations. It seems
that the boast is even truer of British India than of the
home island itself.
Give rs Goon Bread!— ln another column will
be found the advertisement of the “Montgomery Mills.’’
So far as our observation extends, the fact therein set
forth are facts. We are “at home’’ on tho subject of
this flour, and can assure those (very few hereabouts )
who have not experimentally received the information
that the ‘‘Montgomery Mills” flour is of the best possi
ble quality. On any other subject we might venture
a hasty opinion, but on the /lour the “female wimmin”
of this vicinage know their fights and wouldn't allow
the least humbugging. They know Winter’s brand :
and it appears the ladies do down below, as is evidenced
by the following from the “ Metropolite,” the graceful
little literary conducted by the young ladies of the Rev.
A. A. Lipscombe’s Female Institute, at Montgomery,
Montgomery Flour. —We take pleasure in pub
lishing the annexed letter, as well ns in bearing our
testimony to the remarkable excellence of the flour
which was so kindly sent us. We have tested it, and
pronounce it exceedingly fine. Our ladies (and tliCy
are a host) endorse our views, and commend it to all
tables that wish to be supplied with an excellent article
of light bread and rolls. We beg leave from our hill top
to shake hands with our worthy neighbors down near
the river, and to assure them that they are just to our
taste and liking in this matter. Such Flour is Flour as
is Flour, and such a mill is a mill, and Such manufac
turers are gentlemen ! If everything else go wrong,
do let us have good flour and good water ; and if there
be any truth in the old Pythagorean doctrine, that men
partake of the nature of things they eat, we will ven
ture to say that the thoughts and manners of divers
numbers will be blest by the use of friend Moody’s
flour.— Chambers Tribune.
True Words. —When a man of sense, no matter
how humble his origin, or degraded his occupation may
appear in the eyes of the vain and the foolish, is treated
with contempt, he will soon forget it; but he will be
sure to put forth all his energies ta raise himself above
those who looked down in scorn upon him. By shun
niqg tl}e mechanic, wo exert an influence derogatory to
honest labor, and make it unfashionable for young men
to learn trades,.or labor for their support. Did our
young women realize that for all they posses? they are
indebted to t’,ie mechanic, it would be their desire to
elevate him, and to encourage his visits to their society,
while they would treat with scorn, the lazy, fashionable,
tho sponger, and the well dressed pauper. On looking
back a few years, our most fastidious ladies can trace
their genealogy from some humble mechanic, who, per
haps, in their day, were sneered at by the proud and
foolish, while their grandmothers gladly received them
to their bosoms. — John Nral.
The Crj t stal Palace Beaten. —Dr. Duff, in his
speech at the anniversary meeting of the Wesleyan
Methodist Missionary Society in London, on Monday,
thus described one of the heathen temples of India:
“In Scringhatn, you have the hugest temple that can
probably be found from the north to the south pole. It
is square, each side being a mile in length, so that it is
four miles round. Talk of your Crystal Palace ! Why,
as a man would put a penny into his pocket, you might
put your Crystal Palace into the pocket of this huge
pagoda. The walls are 25 feet high and 4 or 5 feet
thick, and in the centre of each wall rise a lofty tower.
Entering the first square you come to another, with a
wall as high, and within that again another—and you
find seven squares, one within another, crowded by
thousands of Brahmins. The great hall for prilgrims
is supported by a thousand pillars, each cut out of a sin
gle block of stone.”
A Minnesota Wag.— The Minnesota Pioneer of
the Ist of May, thus hint*) at the approach cf spring :
“Armies of thin, feeble mosquitoes begin to make
their appearance. All the indulgence we crave of
them is, that they will be as alow in settling their bills as
Secretary Smith is.”
This is the most appropriate out we have seen for
some time, the Secretary owes him for State printing and
makes no exertion to pay it. This is a common fault
with public officers- -particularly in regard to the Frets, |
and with the Press it is most inexcusable, for there is
no one needs an earlier return of money expended, than
the publisher, and none labor more ineessantly for the
public weal than he ; and since the State and Govern
ment officers do not pay the money from their own pur
ses, the strings should be loosened at once and the
interests promptly paid. When we sec such bright scin
tillations of wit lavished occasionally upon public delin
quents, we can but smile at its propriety, and say “poke
fun at them till they sue for quarters.”— V. Whig.
Needle Manufactory. —Tho Newark Advertiser
says the only needle manufactory in this country is in
that city—established by a gentleman from Manchester,
England. The manner of making needles is described
as very interesting—some sixteen different processes
teeing necessary far their compleiW.n. The wire from
which they are made, is jmportvV from England. It
is cut into lengths sufficient for Sf o needles each, and
after being rubbed straight, they are pointed upon a
stone at the rate of one hundred per minute. They
are then stamped with impressions preparatory for the
eyes, which are punched by a press at the rate of fifty
a minute, and then strung upon wires and placed in
another machine to be filed and fashioned into the forms
of needles. The hardening is now done by a hot fur
nace, and they are aftei wards tempered, straightened
and gathered into bunches of about 50,000 each, which
are saturated with oil and emery, tied in a cloth and
placed in a trough with a heavy plank moving back
ward and forward over them so that after some nine
days’ chafing in this manner, they are relieved of im
perfections and rendered smooth enough for tho final
polishing. The temper is then taken out of the eyes,
and they are drilled to prevent their cutting the thread.
(Writtenfor the Georgia Citizen.)
Odds and Ends.
BY JOE, A JERSEY MUTE.
The strangest thing of the day is the recent arrest
of Jenny Lind, on suspicion of having defrauded a
manager of a theatre at Baltimore. Lind could not
have condescended to do injury inthecase. Good heav
ens! what kind of a man is the fellow who suspected
the angelic Lind ?
A rich lady rejected her lover, who was a man of
the most irreproachable character, because, as she
said, he was a low mechanic. Labor is no crime.
Talented journalists fare worse than others whose
knowledge extends no further than the A B C of our
language. Dr. William Elder, one of the most brill
iant orators of the country, tried to establish a daily
Newspaper at Philadelphia, but he failed. And so
of the late gifted Edgar A. Poe.
Mrs. Bloomer, Editor of the Lily, a monthly print
ed at Seneca Falls, N. Y., adopts the short dress and
trowsers, and tries to induce other feminines to follow
her example.
A fair skinned girl I wot of, delights in the society
of dark-complexioned men. She is only fifteen years
of age.
Dancing is condemned by some people as being im
moral in its tendencies. It is an innocent amusement,
audit gives lightness of foot and grace.of gait to those
who practice it.
Some men declare that anii * .jU-Jsflin. But the
Bible says that they have no
sequently, they cannot reasoi* nonsense to
dispute the trutli of the Bible. - .
Public speaking is practiced by some women now-a
days. The Bible, which was written expressly for the
regulation of our conduct in all relations of life, pro
tests against public speaking by women. It does not
become the daughters of fallen Eve to speak in pub
lic.
Many men marry early, and without considering the
responsibilities of matrimony. They generally find too
late that they have paid too much for the whistle. Oil the
other hand, the opinion prevails throughout Christen
dom, that it is right to lay aside those little fondnesses
which constitute the secrets of courtship, as soon as
man and woman make “ twain one flesh. ’’ The en
dearments of courtship ought, however, to bo contin
ued after marriage, and without cessation until death.
The nature of woman is the essence of love, and it re
quires nourishment in the same manner as the digest
ive apparatus.
Gentle reader, did you ever go to Pecklesstown, N.
J. ? If you did, you must certainly have observed two
splendid palaces there. They stand at a distance of
about half a mile from each other, and the grounds sur
rounding each are laid out in a style of Oriental mag
nificence. One of those elegant edifices has a sort of
an Observatory on its roof, and the other has none. —
The former is inhabited by Mr. Peter Brown, and the
latter is unoccupied, its former proprietor and oceupant
having died a few years ago. lie was the brother of
Mr. Peter Brown. A few feet South of Peter’s palace
stands a plain but neat frame house, at which his sister
reigns sole and undisputed mistress. Peter’s youngest
brother resides at Moput Ilolly, wantoning in the ex
travagance of wealth.’ Their other sister lives in a
handsome house in that town. This entire family re
joices in what is called “ single blessedness ; ” and
there is every prospect of their remaining in that state
until death. Air. Peter Brqwn is a great favorite of
the gentle-folks, and declares he takes delight in noth
ing so much as in receiving guests Hud giving suppers.
He is a clever fellow personally, but it) the business ac
ceptation qf the term, he is anything'fcisc. lie pays
little regard to the interests of his tenants, of whom he
has a large number. His brother who, as I have said,
died a few years back, was a lawyer, and was distin
guished for his extensive legal and literacy attainments.
Affable, generous, and a warm-hearted friend, his loss
was sensibly felt by a large circle of acquaintances,
and many a tear was dropped over his grave, expres
sive of sorrow fur his death. Miss Brown, who lives
South of her brother Peter's mansion, picks up preach
ers wherever she finds them, and entertains them un
der her own roof. Strange as this may appear, it is
nevertheless strictly true. Miss Brown, an old maid
worth millions, seeking out and feeding unpretending
ministers of the Gospel—how strange! She seems
averse to marriage, ller sister in Mount Holly is foil 1
of a ride, and may be seen daily riding on horseback
or in conveyance, in company with her father, who is
quite an old man. Her modesty and propriety of de
meanor is the topic of town gossip. Her youngest
brother, (of whom mention has been made,) is a
handsome man, well educated, and conversant with
the rules of etiquette. Speak to him, and he will tell
many anecdotes “ too good to bo lost. ” Ills eye spar
kles with unusual brilliancy when he speaks under the
impulse of the moment, lie is said, and I believe it to
be true, to be of an amiable disposition. Bachelors
and maids, generally speaking, are good natured “ bo
dies.” They have the power to do what they please,
and tc go where they please.
“’Tis Grease! but Living Grf.ase no
Morf. !”—The Buffalo Courier gives an amus
ing account of a gentleman who mounted a bar
rel of lard to hear and see, on the arrival of
the Mayflower, with the President and suite,
on Friday. Just as he was listening with great
unction to the speeches, the barrel head gave
way find he slid easily and noiselessly up to
his “third button” in the “great staple of
Ohio” exclaimingL a r and have mercy on
I us!’’
Written for the Georgia Citizen.
THE SILVER CLOID,
OR
JUAN DE LEON’S BRIDE.
A Tulc of the early settlement of Florida.
BY MISS C. W. BARBER.
The moonbeams danced merrily upon the
silvery waters of the Guadalquiver. Thick clus
ters of olive trees stood upon its banks, and
back of these, there slept the shadow of an old
turreted built perhaps a century before
the coi*e*icement of our story; at least its ap
peara^,! that such might be its age.
Ih< pj[pows were narrow, deep set and gloomy
re>ne walls, where they were not over
go ,vn with moss, were stained and discolored
by time, and even the enclosures surrounding
it, were dark hued and mouldy. But although
the building was so gloomy in its external ap
pearance, the interior was furnished with all the
luxurious appendages that were ever found in
the castles of noblemen, at the end of the sis
teenth century, in Spain. Alabaster lamps
were suspended from the ceiling, by means of
small silver chains, and all through the night
they shed abroad their soft and starry radiance.
The floors were covered with thick and richly
dyed carpets, of Turkish manufacture, rare at
that time in any part of Europe, and the sides
of the rooms were glittering with massive mir
rors.
On a richly covered seat, by one of the w in
dows, there reposed the light and graceful form
of a Spanish girl. Her hair was parted plain
ly back from her high intellectual forehead —a
robe of velvet loosely enshrouded her form, and
one tiny white hand hung carelessly over the
arm of her chair, while with the other she traced
the lines and boundaries of a map on her knee.
Her face was pale and interesting, if not beau
tiful : her eyes especially, now fixed so earnest
upon the chart before her, and full of thought,
w ere, w hen she was roused to animation, flash
ing and brilliant. She was alone or nearly so.
A Moorish girl had in the early part of the
night, been seated at her feet; but she had now
fallen asleep, and save her deep breathing, not
a sound was heard in the castle. Now and then
the rippling of the Gaudalquiver was heard
stealing through the open casement, but the
student over the map neither raised her head
to listen, nor gave token by any movement, save
by that of her hand, that she was animated by
life. At length sire moved and muinured some
inarticulate sentence to herself—the map drop
ped from her knee, and her large black eyes
looked up through the window, with a vague,
dreamy expression in them, which told plainly
that her thoughts were far away.
“It must be decided !” at length she said,
‘1 have already tampered with him too long,
‘Die#,’ or LVo,’ must seal the meditations of to
night, and that decision! O, how much it has
to do with the happiness, or unhappiness of my
future life! It is the pivot upon which will
turn my earthly destiny. Would that the Ho
ly Mother of Jesus would guide me aright!’
and with this exclamation, she again lifted the
map to her knee, and traced line after line of
the mystic pencilling. ‘Here,’ said she as she
rested her finger on the chart, ‘here, he tells
me is probably the fountain, w hose w aters have
the property of restoring youth. The Indians,
those cope red colored, mysterious creatures
found in the New World, have assured him
again and again of its existence. Once found,
and I’once De Loon secures immortal youth
fulness. That brow, so noble, yet deeply fur
rowed w ith age will become smooth and beauti
ful after having beeji washed in that fountain,
lie is my senior by many years, and yet to
me does not seem old—there is no voice so deep
toned and manly—none w hose loud whisper
steals so like music to my heart, qs his. I was a
mere child when I went with my father to wit
ness the gorgeous fetes, w ith which our beloved
sovereigns, Ferdinand and Isbella, cboseto wel
come Columbus, on his return from his first voy
age to the New World. The ringing of the
bells —the gay crowds in the streets —the In
dians with their dusky faces and feathery heads
—the processions of magistrates who w elcomed
him as he advanced towards Barcelona, and
the reverence done him by the King and Queen
—these scenes vividly impressed my mind, and
inspired me with a love and spirit of adven
ture. I remember then seeing for the first time,
l’once De Leon. He walked close by the great
discoverer’s side-his cheek was flushed w ith ex
citement—his eye flashed in its pride, and his
graceful plqme nodded over his brow. I thought
him more than mortal. Others praised tiie
form and features of Columbus—some ran af
ter the Indians, and others pointed to the bask
ets of blqshing fruits—productions of the New
World, which they carried upon their heads,
but I saw but owe face—heard but one voice—
was hardly conscious of the presence of any
save one. It is strange that I—child as l was
—should have been thus impressed. I remem
ber now how coldly, calmly his dark eye v.qu
dered once over my face that day’ Ilis eye
saw me, but I made no impress on his brain or
heart. It rested on me, a child, and still it
saw me not. I was standing close beside my
father, and I shrunk involuntarily from that un
conscious glance; I could not bear, even then,
to be as nothing to him ; something seemed to
w hisper my heart, that one day I should climb
to his love—one day that eye should seek me
amid the crowd, and darken with disappoint
ment if it saw me not. Was the spirit of pro
phecy upon me ? I almost believe it. Now he
loves me. I read it in every glance of his eye
in every motion of his hands—in every thing
connected with him, months before he told me
so in words. Years have passed away since I
first met him—years in which l have budded
into beautiful womanhood and in which he has
grown hoary in the service of his country. \et
I love him still. I cannot help it. What a mys
terious thing is the human heart! I love him
well enough tq almost resi gnife, if necessary for
his sake. During the long voyages in which
lie has been absent with Columbus, my mind has
dwelt continually upon his image. It has been
the prompting motive to every act in my life. If
mv teachers taught me music, I learned to mock
them like a bird that I might charm him on
his return. I guided the pencil with skill, for
something w hispered me—some day you may
be wanted in drawing maps and charts for him !
I danced with grace, for I knew by his own
proud and haughty bearing that poetry of mo
tion was his delight. None in the convent
where I was educated, excelled me in anything.
They could nqt see the talisman I carried in
my inner heart. They thought me eager for
praise. So I was, but one approving voice was
enough for me. And now, what remains ? The
question is propounded to me, ‘can you give
up all things for my 6ake? Can you leave a
father’s hot displeasure, and a rival’s fearful jeal
ousy l can you leave this old castle, with its
clumps of olive trees —its beautiful river—its
ten thousand hallowed associations, and fly with
me to Florida ? To-night the question must be
decided, and even now, I hear a distant con
vent bell, chiming the hour of midnight. It is
strange that she who has had but one. dream in
life, should start back in fear, when that dream
is deepening into a reality. Strange, that Mad.-t
----liue De Orville hesitates when Donee De Leon
urges her to fly !’
The Spanish girl bent again her head, and
mused. A breeze stole in through the open
easement, and rustled the leaves of her chart;
the noise, slight as it was, roused the Moorish
girl at her feet.
* My lady watches late,’ she said as she rubbed
her eyes and glanced up at the Alabaster i
Lamps —‘she is studying those wearisome maps
again, I declare. What is there so interesting
connected with those new discoveries that mv
lady Madaline need join all Europe, and go
mad and blind over them ? True, it is pretty
sight to see the Indians which the voyagers
sometimes bring homo with them : it was on
ly yesterday that I was looking at one just im
ported. lie was a tall, copper colored fellow
—a noble chap with a pointed face, and rings
of gold suspended from his ears and nose. He
trod proudly, but I fancy he did not like his
new position much, for he said, he would re
turn when Donee De Leon goes to colonize the
new tract of land just found, over which all
Spain is going mad. What is the name of it ?
Pshaw'! I have a wretched memory, Florid —
yes, Florida, a pretty name by way Isn’t it
Madaline ? Yet who but you, would think of
studying their eyes out over the map of it ?
Not I, forsooth. You ought to have been a
navigator,’ and the girl laughed half derisively,
and turned upon her side.
‘ And so you w’ere out to the fete yesterday
it seems Aleta,’ said Madaline, as if anxious to
continue the conversation. * Dray who and what
did you see?’
‘See ! Why, I saw enough to turn one poor lit
tle head like mine crazy, I really believe. First
came those who are bound to the new world--the
colonists I mean. You know’ the Emperor has !
promised Donee De Leon, that he shall be Gov
ernor of this new territory, if he will induce
colonists enough go with him, to subdue those
red rascals who may chance not to fancy such
an invasion of their country. Well the colo
nists were all out dressed in green and gold
marching to the sound of music, and Leon was
at their head. A pretty sight it was. Even
the Emperor smiled over it.’
‘ You know 1 >e Leon then V
‘ Know him [ yes, to be sure I do. How can
I help knowing him, when Spain is alive over
his discoveries. Even Columbus, is not, jut
now 7 , a greater personage, and then moreover,
have I not seen him with you often ?’
‘ Yes! Aleta, he used to come here some
times, but he never comes now. My father has
never liked him since his quarrel witli Colum
bus.’
* And there is somebody else, wlio don't fan
cy him much, Dm thinking.’
‘ To whom do you refer, Aleta ?’
‘ To my brother Alonzo.’
The cheek of the Spanish maiden flushed, and
she scanned the face of the Moorish girl at her
feet closely, as if she would have read her inner
most thought. Aleta betrayed no signs of agi
tation. She played carelessly with one of the
tassals of her robe and did not look up.
‘ Why does your brother dislike him, Aleta ?’
‘I don’t know Din sure,’ said the Moor care
lessly. ‘Some freak of his I suppose. But why
do vou ask ? It seems to me that you have
grown strangely interested in this I >e Leon, and
his colony of late; have you not Madaline ? It
is not possible that you think of joining the ex
pedition !’
‘Why not ?’said the Spanish girl with a care
less laugh. ‘They say it is a beautiful country.
The air is bland like that of Italy—the trees
are perpetual verdure, and strange bright birds
make music among their boughs all day long.
You know Aleta 1 am a child of romance, and
life in Florida will just suit me.’
‘But the Indians! they will scalp you alive,
child.’
‘ I would not go unless I had a strong arm
to lean upon--a ready hand to protect me.’
‘ And both I suppose have been offered you,
by l’once Do Leon the Governor. Is it not so
Madaline?’
The girl did not reply. She leaned her head
against the casement and looked up at the qui
et sky, studded with stars a shade gathered up
on the brow of the Moorish girl and her lips
were compressed. Aleta was in person a child,
but in heart and intellect a woman. A strang
er would have been puzzled to have decided
exactly w hat her position was in the family of
De Qryillo. Sometimesshe addiessed the mem
bers of the family with all the deference of a
menial—sometimes she took the air of an equal
and companion and strove to win their confi
dence, and dictate Jo them.
She was in fact a dependant upon De Orville’s
bounty, for she and her elder brother Al° n *
zo had been left in their early years, orphans,
indebted to the charity of a cold and unfeeling
world for a subsistence. Count De Orville had
been influenced to take them into, his family by
some act of kindness shown to him in his boy
hood by their father. They became the com
panions of Madeline his only child. Alonzo,
as he grew to manhood, evidently regarded her
with sentiments warmer than those of broth
erly esteem. But every advance that he made
toward winning her love, was repulsed with an
earnestness of manner, which would have con
vinced one less resolute, wicked and daring,
that there were no hopes left of securing her
heart. But the wily Moor when he once set his
mind upon the accomplishment of an object
generally fullfilled his design, either by fair
means or foul. It was a knowledge of this trait
in his character, that made Madaline dread him
as she would have dreaded a viper. The sight
of his dark countenance—shaggy -eye brows,
and thick set person, always agitated her, and
she shrunk from his compauions'aip. Aleta was
such achild-like thing, that Madaline could not
dread her. She seldom spoke of her brother,
but occupied the same apartment with Mada
line—sometimes waiting upon her like a servant
—sometimes conversing with her like a sister
and companion.
It may seem strange, but this Moor, repulsive,
as he was in person —odious as was his charac -
ter, aud poor as he was in worldly possessions
was a great favorite with the Count who had
adopted him. How he had won such an un
bounded influence over her father, Madaline of
ten wondered. She would account for it but in
one way, and that she hardly dared whisper to
herself He was the intimate friend ofVellas,
a fttmiliar appointed by the Dominican Friars,
to pry into, and bring to the inquisition all per
sons suspected of heresy, or disaffection toward
the ‘Holy Mother Church.’ No class was fre
from danger when the familiars chose tosuspec*
and report of them to the Friars, and Count
Orville knew this well. Os all, the most dread
ed was Vellas, for his avarice and malice incit
ed him to many deeds of cruelty. Alonzo had
met with this familiar, accidentally, but the simi
larity of their characters led them to harmo
nize well,and their acquanitance deepened even
tually into the closest friendship. It was this in
timacy that made Alonzo's anger dreaded
the count, and he who had been the depend
ant —the succored and the befriended, now had it
in his power, viper-like, to sting the bosom that
had warmed him into life.
Madeline saw plainly, that one of two fates,
awaited her--flight with Ponce De Leon to the
wilds of Honda, or to become the wife of thi-v
wily insidious Moor. Wh f should she hesi
tate for a moment ? Ponce De Leon had woed
her openly at first, but clandestinely after he.
had excited by his quarrel with Columbus, her
father's displeasure, and now he urged her to
fly. He was her senior by many years, but
she loved him. In the wilds of the new world
she felt that she would be happy were he by
her side, and as she looked up at the quiet skv v
her resolution become fixed. She resolved tu
leave behind her all the familiar geenes of her
childhood, and to fly to the happy land, a rep
resentation of which, drawn by the discoverer’s
hand, lay in her lap. Perhaps the Moorish giri
read her thoughts and intentions, in her face,
for as she gazed, the shadow grew darker upon
her low brow, and the thin lips more compress
ed. She did not speak, but lay perfectly still
at the feet of Madaline. Soon she closed her
eyes, and apparently relapsed into deep slum
ber.
Madaline arose softly, and glided across the
room, she seated herself at a small rosewood
desk, in one corner, and with the point of her
pencil, traced upon a slip of paper the words :
‘ -Dear Leon , my decision is made. Meet me
at half past seven to-morrow night, in the gard
en of the Convent of San Jose. I shall then
be ready to fly with you, whithersover vou will.
Beware of my father, and Alonzo. 1? we are
intercepted by the latter, the gloomiest dungeon
of the inquisition, may receive us both.
Briefly, yet most tenderly yours, *
Madaline De Orville.
Her letter finished, she folded it, and hidiug
it in the folds of her dress, she threw herself,
upon her couch, and slept. Her breathing
grew deep—.her cheek flushed—and her iip tre
mulous. In her dreams she had already bidden
an adieu to the shores of Spain. There was
one eye that watched this slumber. Aleta, had
stealthily approached the couch, and now stood
leaning over her. She drew from her dress the
letter, aud pausing beneath a lamp, read it tq
the end.
A smile came to her lip—a malicious smile
which few perhaps could have intrepreted. She
mo\ed slowly towards the desk, and seizing
the pencil carefully erased the w ord ‘seven’ and
above it wrote ‘nine.’ It was but a single word
and the erasure doubtless would not be noticed
by the writer. She then carefully replaced it;
aud turning glided out of the room.
V\ hen Madaline awoke, the sun was up, and
every body, about the castle was astir. She felt
for her letter—it was safe in her pocket and at
the foot of her couch set the Moorish girl, bu
sy over some embroidery which she was exe
cuting on a cloth designed as a covering to the
altar ot a church. She arose and bathing her
her face and hands iu a silver bowl, which stood
on a taole at the head of her couch, she sum
moned, Cora, her waiting maid, to rearrange
her disordered apparel and sinoth her hair.
’ \ou slept late,’ said Aleta looking up with
a smile from her work. ‘I have wrought two,
flowers since daylight, and she held up “the fab;,
lie, richly embroidered with golden threads.
This is better than setting, up with the owls,
and studying maps—your practice to the con
trary notwithstanding,’ and a merry, musical
laugli burst from her lips.
‘I did something more than study maps,’ re
plied the Spanish girl carelessly.’ I
letter, and here, Cora,’ she continued ‘seal aud 1
send it away for me—the courier wijj be here!
in an hour.’
‘ A love-letter I'll wager my bead’ said the
Moor laughing still more musically than before.,
A lo\e letter or you would have chosen
so unseasonable an hour, in which, tp,hare in
dited it.’.
‘\ ou had better not wager so. vduable a.
thing*! mean, so valuable to jonrsaif, on such
a frivioloos occasion. Ido not often write love
letters,, said Madaline, carelessly. ‘Cora order
my breakfast.’
It seemed to the eager, nervous, expectant
Spanish girl, that that apparently endless day,
would never draw to a close. Aleta said Rule.
She worked upon the altar piece with indefati
gable zeal and industry. But at last, daylight
deepened into darkness. Ihe Cuadalquiver
again danced on the moonlight, and the leaves
ot the olive trees were gemmed with dew.
Madaline received her mothers portrait, atuf
a few valuable articles of jewelry, and then
glided out to the Convent of Sail Jose, with
quick, yet quiet steps. She was animated but.
by one thought, aud that was that she was Jcav
iug behind her, Alonzo the Moor.
As she came close to. the convent wall, she be
held in the deep shadow of an olive tree, a dis
guised and mantled form. Her heart beat quick,
and her steps faltered for a moment. But sha
summoned resolution and again proceeded.
4 1 >eflr Madaline,’ said a voice low and appar
ently disguised ; ‘are you ready to fly with rnel
My Ships sails in two days for Florida—*
\\ T e can in that time roach the coast, and elude
pursuit.
Mada'ine placed her hand confidently in that
of her lover, and mounting a swift steed (Rat
stood in w aiting, rode silently—almost breath
lessly by his side. He did not speak to her, but
seemed animated by one desire only, and that
was, by the utmost speed, to elude pursuit.
Hour after hour, but still there was no resting
point reached—the moon became enveloped in
clouds, and the road they were pursuing, led
into a dark dismal forest. But the heart of the
Spanish maiden was brave with love and hope
‘I see in the dim light his form,’ she said to fc{u.-
self, ‘could I but hear his voice, I should be sat
isfied.’ But Ponce De Leon neither turned
nor spoke. He held the bridle reiu ftfber Rquei
fast in liis hand, and both steeds seemed to
have borrowed the wings of the wind. At
length the grey light of morning stole up from
i the East. It come faintly at first, but grew
1 brighter and brighter as the day-god approach
ed the horizon. It seemed to Madalme that,
the form of Ponce De I.con baijgrown \ oqth
NO. 12,