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122 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;