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to retard his footsteps. The ruby cup offered
its exciting draught to the weary traveler, and
Binton drank deep and often. Rowan dashed
the poisoned cup from his lips. He conse
quently had no joyous companions to beguile
many a sad and lonely hour; the goal, how-,
ever, of his aspirations was glittering far in
the distant view. He well knew he would be
richly rewarded, when he reached it; and of
all the thousand temptations, (for their name
is legion,) none could make him relinquish
that prize of his anticipation. *Tis true, at
times, his courage almost failed him, and he
found himself walking on slippery places.—
But, “onward ! onward!” was his motto and
his course. He did not always feel lonely.
A congenial companion would often accom
pany him a part of the time, but to other sour
ces \\as he greatly indebted for his happiness.
The chirping birds filled his soul with melo
dy; the rippling rill was harmony to his ears.
The broad, deep river, ennobled his mind ; the
lofty mountain elevated his views ; the firma
ment above afforded a boundless field for his j
imagination’s flight, and its wing was often
gilded with the bright beam of the sun, or
silvered o’er with the milder moon-beam. —
These were happy recreations, but his chief
pursuit was knowledge. The flickering lamp
often warned him that it was mid-night, ‘-the
pale cast of thought” too loudly betrayed in
tense application. Soon, however, was his
reward to appear.
In a thriving town in the up-country, might
be seen, at Ihe time about which we write, a
modest sign, inscribed, “R. Rowan, Attorney
at Law.” Prior to this, for a year or two,
his rise had not been a rapid one, but “he
made his salt to his bread.” Another year,
and he was evidently ascending. Now, cli
ents flocked in—now accumulated case upon
case. His eloquence was of no ordinary kind,
and he was soon called to use it for the rights
and the defence of the people. One summit
was hardly achieved, before another rose to
view; and, if he hesitated to proceed, many
there were to encourage, and even urge him
on. Such was the rapid course of our hero—
such the piugress of the “Golden Mind.”
But, in the meantime, where is our “ man
of gold ?” Left very far behind, indeed, upon
the honorable path of life. On the broad
road he had made terrific speed. At first, he
took a step or two on the very path Rowan
had taken, and even hailed him. The latter
told him to “come on;” but Jack said lie
found it and and tiresome, and proposed to go
back to his companions, who all readily agreed
to it. They soon retrograded, and at length
entered upon a fine broad road. The first
thing they did, however, was to stop “and
get a horn,” for this road was thronged with
grog-shops.
Jack had now come into possession of an
estate, from his father’s death, worth about
fifty thousand dollars; and, as is always the
case, was reported to be much more wealthy
than he really was. His fortune afforded him
many gratifications, it is true, but the rose
generally has a thorn, and in this case we are
sorry there were more thorns than one. In
the first place, Jack was in debt, when he
came into possession of his property, which
consisted of lands and negroes. There was
no ready money, and money he must have to
pay some College debts, pressed upon him by
the officers of the Law. Binton was extrava
gant, too, in his expenditures. He kept a fine
pack of hounds, a pair of beautiful horses,
besides hunting-ponies, and had spent a con
siderable sum for a lot of “ fine old Madeira”
und “ old cognac,” that was as old as him
self, and, perhaps, stronger. A quantity of
fine-flavored Hispaniolas, and a fine gun he
must have, as well as a dashing equipage,
and well-trained servants, who were the great
est villains in the country. In addition to this,
he had lately built a showy mansion, decora
ted with fine walks and shrubbery, command
ing a noble view of the ocean. It was a
beautiful residence—but did Jack appreciate
& 0 1? & IB A IS ¥
its beauty ? Pshaw r ! Binton’s great delight
was in the chase, or in sailing on the water.
He considered himself very expert, and was,
indeed, skilled in nautical matters. We are
glad to award him so much credit in this line.
His pleasure yacht, which he called “The
Dashing Lucy,” was a model vessel. Slen
der as a fairy, she skimmed the water as
gracefully; and often did her sharp bow di
vide the white-capped billow. Jack would
frequently rise from his “sumptuous fare,”
with two or three of his companions, who
were quite as breezy as the sea itself, and
propose a “sail.” They jumped into the lit
tle vessel, and soon was the white canvass
spread to the stiff sea-breeze. In the twink
ling of an eye, she was flying over the blue
waves of the briny ocean. Jack was no
coward on water, for he was too self-conceited
to think that the elements could baffle his sci
ence ; and often would he dangerously expose
himself, steering through white-crested waves,
running high and angrily, until his compan
ions and himself were saturated with the
spray. Often would the livid cheeks of his
companions too clearly indicate that courage
had fled from their hearts, and they would
then remonstrate with their daring Captain,
for venturing so far from the sea-shore.—
Jack, however, came as he went—unhurt.
[Concluded in our next.]
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
A TALE.
BY ALECK.
CH APTER I.
“A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.”— Byron.
“ What, in the name of all that is wonder
ful, is the matter with you, this morning,
Frank ?•” asked George Jackson, of his friend
Frank Walton, as they met in front of the
C 111 1, one morning, during Com
mencement week in A .
“ \\ hy, to tell the truth, George, I am des
perately in love. For the first time in my life,
have I been smitten by the blind god. I, who
have travelled over Europe, hove gossipped
with the beauties of England, kissed the udar
lins ” of the Emerald Isle, danced with the
demoiselles of “la belle France,” roved the
hills and vallies of Italy with her fair daugh
ters, and talked love to the dark eyed senori
tas of Spain, haye come to A to lose my
heart. Who would have thought it ?”
“I never should, lam sure. But, who is
so fortunate as to be the possessor of the heart,
which has stood such a siege on the other
side of the Atlantic ?”
“Is it possible, my dear fellow, that you
have not already guessed ?• You certainly
noticed a preference on my part, last night at
the ball, for “ one bright particular star.”
“Yes, I saw you paying more attention to
Miss G , than any one else in the room,
but thought’ nothing of it. I hope you don’t
intend doing anything desperate, however ?”
“ I don't expect to do anything desperate,
but, I shall most certainly address the lady,
and be made happy or miserable for life.”
“ Have you reflected sufficiently on it, to
justify such a course? You may be made
miserable for life in a way you little think of.
Your acquaintance with the lady is very lim
ited, and you know nothing of her disposi
tion. Be cautious, Frank, or you may get a
wile, who will render your life anything but
a happy one.”
“ Vraiment , mon cher ami , but I am willing
to risk it. A girl who displays so much good
sense in her conversation and actions as Miss
G , cannot but make a good wife.”
“I have heard, Frank, that her temper is
not the sweetest in the world.”
“No doubt that is a false report, which
has been circulated by some of Miss G ’s
enemies, who are envious of her popularity
and influence.”
“ At any rate, Frank, there can be no harm
in caution; study well the lady’s character,
before you commit yourself, or you may have
cause to repent. Whatever course you may
pursue, I wish you success and happiness.”
“Thank you, George, for your kind wish
es and good advice, and that some fair one
may take you a captive soon is the heart's
: desire of your friend.”
And the young men parted, the one to call
|on Miss G , the other to while away the
few hours before the Commencement exerci
ses, by listening to a group of politicians, who
were very industriously discussing the merits
and. demerits of the different candidates for
some office.
CHAPTER 11.
“ Won by the charm
Os goodness irresistible, and all
In sweet confusion lost, she blushed assent.”
; — Thompson.
Commencement was over, and the visitors
left for theii respective homes. Frank Wal
ton left with the crowd, but his heart remain
ed in A . He had been a constant visitor
of Miss G since the night of the ball.
He loved her ardently, passionately; and no
thing could induce him to think that the beau
tiful creature, who occupied so large a portion
of his thoughts had any imperfections. Once,
only, did the words of his friend George recur
to his mind as he saw her display signs of
anger, but the shadow passed from her face
so quickly, leaving her the same beautiful be
ing that he loved so fondly, that, with its re
turn, his tears vanished. He proposed, was
accepted and left A a happy man.
; “I understand that Miss G is engaged,”
| said an old maid, to a friend, a few weeks af
ter Commencement as they sat in the parlor
at the Madison Springs. “ Poor creature ! I
am glad she has succeeded at last.”
“ To whom is she engaged, pray ?” enquir
ed her friend.
“To a Mr. Frank Walton, a young gentle
man from S , who is said to be both rich
and handsome.”
“Was she not engaged to young Dr. Rob
erts of M , at the time?”
“ Oh, no ! that has been broken off several
months. He visited her too often, after they
were engaged, not to discover her faults. She
was first engaged to Ralph Lee, but the match
was broken off by his mother, who knew El
la G too well to allow her son, to ruin
his happiness for life, by wedding her.”
“Do you think that Walton, knew any
thing about her disposition I”
“ I understand he was told of it, before he
ever addressed her. If that is the case, he is
not to be pitied.”
“When are they to be married V ’
| “About the first of October. Ella seems
determined to give this genlleman no chance
| to back out, as the wedding comes off so soon.
I understand they have invited all the elite of
A , and are going to have quite an affair
j of it.”
This very interesting conversation was in
terrupted just here, by the ringing of the bell
for dinner, where we shall leave our ancient
| friends enjoying a good meal, such as Morri-
I son always provides.
i
CHAPTER 111.
| “None pities him that’s in the snare,
And, warned before, would not beware.”
— Hetrick.
The eventful first of October, at length ar
j rived and Frank Walton became a benedict.
; He immediately set out, with a few friends,
;on a tour to the North. He was compelled to
make a short trip, owing to the lateness of
the season, but he was convinced before it
was half over, that his better half had a will
of her own. When everything went to suit
her, she was very agreeable and happy, but
the least little inconvenience, served to ruffle
her temper and make her unhappy for hours.
Frank attributed these ebullitions’.of feeling to
the annoyances attendant on travel, and hop
ed that when they arrived at home, she would
become pleasant and happy.
He soon turned his steps homeward, and
one evening the newly married couple arriv
ed at home after an absence of about six
weeks. Frank had caused everything to be
prepared for their reception, by informing his
friends of the time at which he expected to
return. All that was necessary to gratify th t .
taste and minister to the comfort of a reason
able woman, was found at Ella Walton’s new
home, and for a time happiness seemed to smile
upon the newly-wedded pair. But soon the
bad temper of her who should have been gen
tle and obedient began to display itself in va
rious ways. Her servants found it impossi
ble to please her; she was dissatisfied with
everything and became more and more un
happy every day. Walton soon discovered
that his wife’s temper rendered her miserable
He did everything in his power to make her
happy; every wish was gratified and every
whim humored, until matters grew worse.
He then tried remonstrance, but with as little
success. He could blame no one but himself
for having married a shrew, as he had been
warned repeatedly, by his friends; and his
only hope was that she might become better
Several Commencements have passed since
the one which introduces our little story, and
Ella has insisted on attending them all. As
she generally has her own way about every
thing, Frank is compelled to submit. He is
no longer the dashing, don’t-care sort of fel
low, we first knew him to be, but is the very
image of a hen-pecked husband.
“Hello, Frank, how are you ?” enquired
George Jackson, as he met him one morning
during last Commencement, in front of the
F n H——e, where he stopped
“Very well, I thank you, George,” he re
plied, keeping his eyes fixed intently on one
of the windows.
“How have you been ? How is Ella!
What is the news'?” enquired his friend, see
ing him indisposed to speak.
“ I have been very well, Ella is well, and
1 have no news. But excuse me, my friend,
it is nearly time to go to the Chapel and if 1
am not ready, Ella might not like it. Good
morning.”
“ Poor fellow!” exclaimed Jackson, as he
saw him enter the door, —“is it possible that
my old friend who used to be so merry has
become the slave of a woman? If I should
ever marry, (which heaven forbid,) preserve
me from such a wife !”
Athens , Georgia.
(Original poctrji.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE MOTHER’S LAMENT.
BY L . T . DOYAL.
In the dark and silent grave,
Over which the wild flowers wave—
In despair and anguish wild,
I have laid my only child !
Deep within that gloomy bed,
Lies the pale and lovely dead;
I shall see the flower whose bloom,
Withers in the darksome tomb.
Never more, never more!
As the pale moon’s silvery light—
Dispelled the shadows of the night,
A voice in tender accents said,
I o my soul that mourn’d the dead —
“ Weep not for the faded flower —
On her grave at this sad hour,
riiou shalt see the cherished one,
From thy yearning sight now gono—
Never more—never more!
As I wept in solitude,
Blossoms ’round the grave were strew’d,
By the wind’s unfettered breath—
Emblem of the Angel Death:
And I thought on Zephyr’s wing
1 heard the loved one sweetly sing;
But the Zephyr, sighing, said,
Thou shalt see the lovely dead—
Never more— never more!
Then I breathed a fervent prayer,
1 hat Ileaven would give me comfort there;