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VOL. I. [For the Banner of the South.] To the Sea, Koll on in majesty, thou mighty Rea, Thou hidest treasures in thy watery caves Brighter anil richer in their rarity Then e’en the brightest on thy pathless waves; Roll on! Thou art the monarch to whose pride All bow them low; thou hast the widest range Os empire; in the limits of thy tide Thou reignest supreme—alone—and know’st no change. Roll on in majesty, thou mighty Sea; Break in thy current the white waves apart, Although each motion farther bears from me The priceless burden of a human heart. Roll on, and guard it well, thoujliaughtv King, And bid for once the rising storm be still; For, oh ! to me 'twould be a bitter thing To know thine angry waves should work it ill. Roll on in majesty, thou mighty sea; And take the dearest treasure that I own Upon thy heaving bosom, though it be Hard that henceforth I live aud hope alone; Roll, thou lordly ocean, and yet spare Thy living freight from danger to the goal; Speed thee—and how thou triflest, O, beware ! With the blest burden of a human soul. FIDHLIA. [FOR THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.] THE GOUORIT SVIJLi, Translated from “ Le Correspondant.” BY It. D. TANARUS., OF SOUTH CAROLINA. [concluded.] And third, the responsibilities and du ties connected with it. Xavier then pro ceeded, and said: “Look at poor Clare; von all know about her. Now she was at first so happy in a well-assorted match, be came suddenly a widow, and then an invalid for life, beside being left with a little child,and no means for its support ! Once again I ask you, if your position admits of any comparison-with her ? Be sides all this, don’t you know there is usually but one chance in a thousand ? and if it happened that poor Clare drew just precisely that one bad number, does it follow that you must do the same?” After this outburst, Margaret, in a timid and hesitating voice said: “Well! well ! But grand-papa, suppose you were to ask Etienne’s opinion, perhaps he may not re fuse to speak to day,” and she waited anxiously until he should do so. But Etienne, in a sad, low tone said : “I am sorry, oh, so sorry! to disobey you, Mademoiselle. But I cannot, oh, in deed I cannot do it ! There are some who do not play, because the stake would cost them too dearly; therefore they will not risk it. I aril so sorry ! but I cannot!'’ And as the young girl looked at him, lie repeated, almost in a tone of supplication . “Oh no! Mademoiselle, I cannot!” Margaret shrugged her shoulder with a pitying kind of smile, merely saying ; l ' Allous, donc! u I suppose it will do some other time.” “What the devil is lie saying about } !ay, and about stakes, and I know not what?” impatiently asked Xavier: hat the deuce are you al! after ?” “[ndeed, I do not know Grand-papa.” And atter that she became silent, fol lowing Jean Marie’s example, who w r as intently watching Luc’s reappear ance. XVIII. ALL TOGETHER. T !Cn suddenly the duor opened and I j ue appeared, stopping for an instant to ■‘•'hade his eye with his great hand. Never was there a more striking con trast than between the expression of Jean -durie and Xavier at this moment. “Ah ! here he comes at last!” beamed hvaii Jean Marie’s radiant face. ''Liable! (liable!” was the interpreta tlon of the troubled expression of the old man’s. Nud both gazed eagerly at Luc, J -ut he did not heed them. Walking quumjy up to Margaret, he addressed himself to Xavier, in a strangely altered voice ; ‘Acs, so much the worse you think. I have come back. You will be enraged because you forbid me to speak to her. But I could not stay down there any longer, knowing what I know. I was longing to embrace her, hoping to look at her, ma belle mignionne !” As he reached Margaret, lie took her up in his arms, raised her to him, and pressed true, tender kisses on the cheeks and brow of the young girl, who did not seem at all astonished by this singular manifestation of feeling, evincing some little consciousness only by a sweet blush ing smile. Xavier pushed his cap violently to the very top of his forehead, and looked like one who was suddenly stupefied. Jean Marie laughed a little sneering laugh,, while Etienne looked on with the deepest interest. Neither Xavier, Luc. nor Margaret had ever before heard so many connected words from Luc’s lips: imagine then their astonisment increased, when turning to the old miller, with a scornful shrug of his shoulder, he said: * “Ha! It was I then who kept her from marrying! I! with my advice, my proposals ! I must go away ! Yes—you said it—you wished it! I to go and leave her ? my beautiful darling !” And again be took her in his arms and kissed her, “Now she will marry as soon as you please; yes! oh, she knew well what she wanted to do ! and she would not tell any one—not her old Luc! ma belle mignionne!” Margaret here looked earnestly at him. “Yes, it is time,” said he turning to her, “I know you will marry now, like a a goodjchild, to please Grand-papa ; that is, I mean should you find a good hus band. No more difficulty now !” Margaret blushed and cast down her eyes. “ Allans! allons!” cried Lue, throwing bis head back, as though he would show, by this movement, his pride in the young girl, “no blushing, no looking down— hold up your head as high as your old Luc’s. But Margaret seemed more and more embarrassed. “Ah, little one ! I knew well it was you,” said he looking tenderly upon her. ‘I said at once to nurse Piret “you are right; 7 tis she, good heart, true heart, the heart of an angel!’ ma belle mignionne!” And here his kisses fell softly again and again upon the young girl’s fair cheek. But Xavier iterrupted him, saying : “What is the meaning of all this? Can’t you speak to me ?” “Ah yes! I forget! I must explain. Can you understand it yet? Do you know why she would never marry ? I will tell you. It was because she was not yet twenty-one years of age, because she was not yet mistress of her own pro perty, and could not do all that her noble heart dictated. Day before yesterday she was—as you know—twenty one, and went with you to the Notary. To-day the Notary came to Clare Pilot’s house— the poor sick creature, with a child to raise, and she so poor. The Notary says: ‘this child has a sum of money settled on it for life, the interest is to go to the mother; four hundred francs of in terest every year. Then Clare, then the Mere Pirot, say, “who is this ? how is this ?” Notary says, “a secret, I cannot tell”—then turns on his heel and goes off. Mere Pirot comes here—is here now— down stairs at this very moment. She comes to me, cryingjand saying: “It is no one but Margaret! but she must not — we do not wish it! Dear child! noble child ! But she must take back her money; Luc, you must tell her—you can make her,’ And so Master, Luc comes back to her, though you forbid it—no matter, lie comes to bless once again his own belle mignionne!” ‘But, ’ stammered Margaret, “this is not”— .AUGUSTA, GA., AUGUST 22, 1868. “Hush,” said Luc sharply. “Not one word. It is you! yes, you, and only you!” Xavier seemed to be buried in thought, and Jean Marie still talked on as one who could not comprehend matters. Etienne leaned upon both arms—his chin resting on his folded hands—pale, motionless, and apparently occupied in watching every look of Margaret. “Do you understand now ?” said Luc. “Yes, I think so,” said Xavier. “She was only waiting until she should be mistress of her own property. She left the Notary’s with me day before yester da}', then returned to liis officeafter I went off, directing him to settle a certain sum on the little one, securing the inter est to the mother. Is that right, Luc ?” “Yes, voila!” said Luc, “ma belle mig nionne!” “But, my little girl,” cried Xavier, “do you know that four hundred francs is the interest of your eight thousand ?” “Ah! ah! how is that? Eight thou sand francs,” cried Jean Marie starting, and seeming at last to be roused up to taking part in what was going on ; “eight thousand francs? ma foi! why that is just the body of her—” Margaret prevented his saying more. Until this moment she had remained quiet, as if overpowered by sweet, modest feelings; but on hearing these last words of Jean Marie, she drew herself up, acting as though it were beneath her dignity to notice them. ‘ Well, Grand-papa, *but those eight thousand francs were my own, were they not ?” she asked respectfully. And glancing from her Grandfather to Etienne, she saw two great bright drops trickling down the cheek of the honest youth. “I cannot say yet, petite, I cannot tell,” began the Grandfather, “but—” “But?” “Xavier mind, master,” said Luc, as lie tenderly stroked Margaret’s braids, “she will marry soon, now—no more difficulty with her now.” “That may be, it is possible,” said Jean Marie, with the most self-important air, stretching over the bench to leave the table, “but I declare to you very dis tinctly, Monsieur Coudret, that I with draw my pretentions to mademoiselle’s hand. I am thoroughly cured of my folly—this line affair of the eight thou sand francs does not promise well for the—” Jean Marie was cut short in his ha rangue by a much more powerful voice than Margaret’s. ‘All, par example!” cried Etienne springing up with great excitement iu his voice and manner, and striking the table with the palm of his hand. “Ma foi! master, there are some folks who either presume greatly upon your good nature, or who think that the members of your household arc arrant cowards, and will allow you to be insulted in your own house, and in their presence! But if you are good enough to pass over the outrages ot these ill-mannered people, you must not expect us to be willing to be called c >wards by those who have shown you such disrespect. No, master! we cannot consent to this, nor will we longer remain silent.” Etienne here paused and glanced to wards Margaret, as if seeking her ap proval. But this was needless; for, while Xavier, Luc, and even the imperturbable Jean Marie himself, showed great sur prise at this outburst, Margaret, with pride and pleasure sparkling in her eye, seemed to be animated by the same spirit that moved him. “Yes, pardieu!” resumed Etienne with added confidence, and in a tone of quiet irony, “there is something very amusing to me in this proceeding, and with your kind permission, master, I am going to explain it to you. Certain people came here two days since, only to bring on themselves a scornful rejection of their presumptious offers; and here they have returned to-day, and in your presence, and that of the noble young girl by whom they were repulsed, they dare to speak of their pretentions, and they dare to say that Tis only now, and by their own accord they withdraw them! as if it had ever rested with them to de cide! Not he! good master, I find this very droll, very amusing.” Etienne, laughing in the most quiet and provoking manner, and twisting his great hands, one over the other, had left his place and moved forward, as if he in tended to cut off Jean Marie’s retreat, pre tending at the same time to be unconscious of bis presence. The discomfitted guest meanwhile with his arms hanging down, his mouth agape, his head bent forward, seemed at last to realize the position of affairs. Luc, also, evidently understood matters more clearly, for, standing with one hand resting on his hip, the other leaning on Margaret’s shoulder, he smoth ered his laugh in his great beard, which became violently agitated by the unusual excitement. Xavier stood quietly apart; his coun tenance expressive of anything but dis pleasure at the change in the aspect of affairs. “Indeed,” continued Etienne, “where have these fine people come from ? where have they learned their fine manners? It seems to me they are very bold. For whom do they take that noble young girl, that they should dare speak of her as though she were some scorned or despised being? Despised? they are despised, scorned ? They are scorned ! Only they themselves! They know not that there is not one who dare look upon her save with honor and respect! no one who dare say one word derogatory of her! Ah ! how little they know that the whole Canton prides itself upon her beauty, and her grace, and her sweetness.” “Ah yes,” said Xavier, in a tone of happy pride, his heart swelling with emo tion as he looked upon his grandchild, whose beauty was enhanced at that mo ment by the modest blush that suffused her sweet face. Xavier’s exclamation by no means seemed to re-assure Jean Marie. “What was their motive in bringing their tricks and their ill manners here?” continued Etienne. “Did they think they could go off and revenge them selves by boasting that they bad made game of one whom all their arts could not win ? It may be so. But in our case, thanks to l ßon Dieu ’ the what they will say outside, can never trouble us here.” “I think not,” said Xavier, shaking his head significantly. “If it were not so,” continued Etienne, “there are some here to-night, master, who could defiantly say to them, in their very teeth, that they lied, like fiends, and who compel them, miserable,braggarts as they are, to keep their tongues quiet, if they could utter nothing but those lying boasts.” “Ah! ha !we could soon show them that,” said Xavier, who thought that now was his only chance to intimidate his for mer ally, finding the manly support he received fram Etienne much more after his own heart, than the system of eva sion and meanness he had been compelled to practice hitherto. Etienne continued ; “It is purely through respect to you, master, that I say no more; indeed, 1 may add, that I do no more on this occa sion.” Then, looking over to Margaret ; “I have been given to understand that there are ‘certain good Christians’ in the house, who stood in need of a good lesson; I have done what could; indeed I could do no more,” x\fter that, looking sternly at Jean Marie, he said: “1 trust in God that what I have said may be sufficient, and that those who needed, may profit of it; for 1 must say, if ever I should be obliged to repeat the lesson, it will be after another fashion. At all events, if I have not made myself sufficiently understood, I am always ready to explain, elsewhere or otherwise.” Finally, turning to Xavier: “Master, voila tout! It is*all I have to say.” “And it was honestly, bravely, spoken,” replied Xavier, who, with one hand pressed the extended hand of the excited young man, and with the other hand, with almost paternal familiarity, upon his shoulder. A deep silence followed, during which Jean Marie seemed laboring to get up a fine speech to cover with an air of offend ed dignity the inglorious retreat lie was evidently anxious to effect. “After all,” said he, with a sneer upon his face, which vanished quickly at a threatening glance from Etienne. “Af ter all, ’tis my opinion that every one should—” “But,” said Margaret turning to Luc, without deigning the slightest notice of Jean Marie’s words or presence; “But you remember our agreement Luc?” “Stop! Yes, apropos,” said Xavier, while Jean Marie tried to recover from the insult Margaret’s scornful indiffer ence had again subjected him to. “Apropos,” said Xavier again. “What is this famous agreement then ?” “ Famous'*. Somebody has evidently been speaking to you about it then grand-papa ?” “Ah! ha! ha !” said Xavier, who, not over-generous at this crisis, casta glance of triumph at the dejected face of his for mer accomplice. “Ah,” growled Luc, following the glace, aud throwing out his great clench ed fists, as though preparing for a fight. These short exclamations and belligerent movements by no means seemed to revive Jean Marie’s drooping spirits. “Grand-papa,” laughed the young girl, “there is no great mystery in our agree ment.” “Never mind,” said Xavier, “still I should like to —” “Know what it is ? Just as you please then Grand-papa. Our famous agree ment then, was simply a promise that I made of my own free will to Luc; one day that he told me he could not live without seeing me, I told him I felt sure we would never be seperated. ‘Who knows?’ he said with a troubled look. Then added that as far as it depended on you he would have nothing to fear—for if by any unimaginable possibility you should ever think of discharging him, I would soon settle the matter with you.” “Ah! I sec now. That was the reason I suppose, that he sent me to you this morning,” said Xavier. But I saw him laugh when I spoke of the possibility of my death, and of your being left alone, and then—” “He laughed ?” questioned Margaret. “Yes, and I cannot see that there is anything so amazing in what I said—it seemed to me very strange that he did.’’ “I will tell you then, Grand-papa,” said the young girl —who had seemed by a look to question Luc—“lie laughed be cause it seemed so droll to him that you should speak of my being left alone, as long as he lived, and was here to protect and care for me. Is it not so, Luc.’ Luc threw his head back, placing his hand tenderly upon the young girl s head. “Ah, it was that then ? ’ said the Grand father, in a touo of satisfaction. “But you ma petite , when ever I spoke to you— you know that idea ol yours? “Oh yes,” said Margaret, laughing, “I know. Listen to me, and I will tell you about our agreement.” “Well, tell me.” “As long as I am unmarried, there is no fear of Luc leaving the Mill, because we know whose will rules here, don’t we chere grand perc ? But when I will bo married, whether I shall be separated from him or not, will depend upon my husband; and husbands are not quite as easily managed as Grand-papas you know. Am I right Grand-papa ■ But I cannot ISTo. 23.