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TERMS.si PEIIANNTM Df ABVANGE. SECOND YEAR. NO. 21....WH0LE N0.74’
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For Richards* Weekly Gazette.
GIFTS TO THE POOII.
BY CAROLINE HOWARD.
And Mordecai wrote all these things, and sent
letters unto all the Jews that were in the provin
ces of the king Ahasurus, both nigh and far,
To stablish this among them, that they shoul 1
keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and
the fifteenth day of the same, yearly,
As the days wherein the Jews rested from their
enemies, and the month which was turned unto
them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning un
to a good day : that they should make them days
of feasting and joy, and of sending portions one
to another and gifts to the poor.
Esther, ix : 20, 21,22.
’T\v;is in the past, far in the by gone ages,
When in the book of time the leaves were few,
When deeds of mercy on its written pages,
Half told the dreaming soul that Heaven was
true.
’Twas in the joy-time of the Hebrew nation,
When Esther ruled the king who ruled the lard,
That from her high and splendour-lighted station
iShc oped her lips and spoke her high command.
At her sweet voice the foes of Israel trembled,
And at her hid the fiercest warriors lied,
Hainan no more his purpose base dissembled,
For all his race were numbered with the dead.
Twas in the month of Adar, fled was sadness,
Still was the carnage cry, the war was o’er,
And the peace trump rung out with thrilling glad- ,
ness,
Peace to the \smd, gifts to the friendless poor.
Oh ! ’tis a fearful l ower when love and beauty,
Linked hand in band the manly breast assail,
When the wrapped heart forgets and leaves its
duty,
When the high thought and earnest purpose fail.
Put when these gifts can tempt to gifts of power,
Os power to check the torrent tide of wrong,
’Tis God's own hand that gives the precious dower.
From Him they spring, and to Himself belong.
Gifts to the poor ! the sweet and truthful token,
The foretaste of a deed of after time,
The link which binds the bread by Jesus broken.
With this good action, earnest and sublime.
Can j’ou not see them, poor and lon° and friendless.
Crushed and heart broken ’neath a load of woe,
.Smiling with joy and blissful feeling endless
Weeping sweet tears the ha] py only know T
See the pale mother, pale with grief rfnd sighing,
Wake fri •in a dream of agony and death,
Clasp to her arms her child with hunger dying,
And welcome back his almost parted breath.
Gifts to the poor have raised her downcast spirit,
Fit the hope-fire within her tearful eyes,
1 aught her that life and love she will inherit,
I*or God is smiling ou her through the skies.
See the meek maiden with her hands so slender,
Toiling for bread to bush the childrens’ cry,
On her young cheek, so thin and white and tender,
Only the pale rose and the lily lie.
Never harsh words, and never loud complaining
Come from her lip- so fit for love's soft tone,
But in her soul a cherished image reigning,
.Speaks the sad truth that she is loved and lone.
Hush ! ’tis the note of harp and timbrel sounding.
See her sweet face is downcast now no more,
Near his protecting heart her heart is bounding
And in eaoh other’s arms they are not poor.
And the worn father from his toil upspringing,
Trembles with ecstacy unknown before,
for in his ear the blessed words are ringing,
Help to the working man ! gifts to the poor !
Then let the poor be suffering round us never !
Let every day record some fruitful deed,
Let it be Adar, month of gifts, forever,
•And (od will help us in our time of need.
DISSEMBLANCE.
BY ALTON.
The mask and mantle many wear from pride.
Oh what a mockery is life!
How cheerfully we smile,
Ah hough the sorrowed heart is steepod
lu bitterness the while!
And it is well—for ne’er should wo
A pothers heart oppress,
By meting out in piteous tone
The tale of our distress :
E’er mindful that a brother's heart
Mourns not with sorrow less,
Kinee, ah, too true, each bosom hath
Its share of bitterness.
And, could wo but uplift the veil,
And all the truth reveal,
Jlow oft we’d start to find sweet smiles
A vale of tears conceal!
For where misfortune wings her dart,
And wounds the hapless soul,
There arc who from the eye permit
No bitter tear to roll;
But learn the art of arts to crush
The anguished sigh with guile,
And thus for every burning pang,
Express the sweetest smile !
And proudly scorn to own the wound,
Or heave the struggling sigh,
But. mid the gay and enre’es* crowd,
Smile with the brightest eye !
While, inwardly, they sneer to hear
The would be wise remark,
‘Thrice happy one !’ who little dream
That all ivithin is dark !
Yet these have moments when the soul,
With disappointment crushed,
Unawed by heaven, m'ght dare to wish
The heart in death were hushed :
For what is life that man should fear
To “ sleep the sleep of death,”
If, oh! to cheer its rugged path,
No end in view he hath !
But, ere bright manhood scarce hath set
Its stamp upon the brow,
To see by fortune’s cruel band.
Each cherished hope laid low ;
And, yielding to the chains of fato
Wherin we’ve wrestling bowed,
To feel that calmness of despair—
The spirits death-like shroud.
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
WOMAN k WOMAN’S LORD.
BY A LADY OF GEORGIA.
CHATTER VIII.
On one of the brightest mornings of ear
ly Autumn, a party of pleasure-seekers fill
carriages, from which, as they go whirling
along, resounds the mirthful laugh of the
gay and young. Horses, mounted by mer
ry riders, most of whom intend to pursue
the deer near Tallulah, give to the whole
scene a most picturesque and exhilarating
appearance. The hounds, leashed together
in pairs, look as if they too expect a great
deal of fun, and a great deal of success,
when once they arrive at the scene of in
terest, and are released from their loving
bonds. There are Neptune, and Pluto, and
Pan, as well as Venus and Ceres, and Mi
nerva, among them —not forgetting Jupiter
himself—though Juno having been lost in
some previous hunt, he has become a
“grave and noble senior,” who may be
trusted with freedom.
Ned Oliver and Charles Elliston were
among the hunters. We were certainly in
hopes of seeing Charles in Mr. Carey’s
carriage, for there is something about Char
lotte and himself that seems to be conge
nial; but we can never have things as we
desire. lie had mingled freely in the soci
ety around the village, and Mr. Carey's
family had received most of his attentions.
Yet the air was too lofty around himself
and Charlotte, to admit the idea of their
being in love. They say “the course of
true love never did run smooth,” which
may he true, for aught I know; but, fair
and gentle young reader, please remember,
that because the course of an early fancy
may he checked, does not always prove it
to be true. Remember, it is natural to the
human mind, to shew itself strong in op
position. Like the rebel-flower, it thrives
hy being trodden on. And who can ealeu-’
late the number of unhappy marriages that I
Lave been made in a spirit of opposition.!
Maiden, scan your own mind, and if you
find there a pure and true nucleus around
which to build your hopes, though small it
may be, the whole of your existence shall
be leavened with its purity and truth.
The party linger for a half-hour at the
ocean-view. On the right is the extensive
prospect which gives a name to the spot.
As far as the eye can reach, is one un
bounded expanse of country. The Tallu
lah, in its winding course, seems to have
welcomed the spirit of peace to its bosom,
for the waters that have dashed down its
impetuous torrents, seem, in the far dis
tance, to be taking their quiet course to the
Savannah. Nearer, interminable forests
meet the eye : but as the vision approaches
the horizon, that misty, hazy appearance
is seen in undefined extent, which conveys
the idea most perfectly of a distant ocean.
You may see one rugged peak, like a rock,
rising in the midst of the billows, which is
the Stone Mountain of DeKalb. On the
left hand side of the road, which runs on a
ridge all thewwar,y r , and is here very narrow,
we behold a scene of more striking fea
tures, but less extent. It is bounded hy a
range of mountains, which tower in majes
ty along the horizon. Small mountain
hills, like children, seem nestling in an
eastern nook, while to the west, there
seems an outlet to the world, guarded at
the portal by the towering Yonah. The
road continues on the ridge till it reaches
I the fearful chasm, from which, if one
chooses, he may take a leap of twelve
I hundred feet. It soon resounded again
! with the merry laugh, and, without de
scending to particulars, they formed cer
| tainly a happy, light-hearted party'.
Is it not pleasant to see the joyous and
glad of heart holding sweet intercourse, on
the path of life; and is it not elevating to
the soul, to hear inanimate nature praising
| with its ceaseless murmurs the hand that
j fashioned it ? Unconscious as it is, itcon
j veys to the mind an idea of knowledge and
i of life; else, why would the ancients, who
took their intuitions for divine teachings,
j have peopled the fields and floods—the
; running streams—the gurgling fountains—
and the very trees themselves, that spring
up and pass away again into the bosom of
, our common mother—with objects of life
—imaginary certainly, but, though imagi
j nary, ever conveying to their minds a
! world of thought.
Calm and majestic repose, is the most
striking feature of the present scene.—
Large undulating hills rise in succession
before the eye, till lost to view by the in
tersecting trunks and branches of a mag
nificent forest. No under-brush encumbers
the ground, hut here and there you may
see the dried flowers of summer, that have
“wasted their sweetness,” mingled with
the richer, though coarser blooms of Au
tumn flowers. These rise in myriads a
round, and form a pleasing ground-work
for the waving branches far overhead.
Beauty and youth wander here in gay
groups, gathering bouquets of wild flowers,
and engaging in those mirthful sallies which
seem spontaneous to the youthful mind.—
Like the flowers which fill the hands, and
are twined in the tressesof beautiful maid
ens, they speak of the beauties and the joys
of life.
The music of Nature, which has re
sounded for ages from the roaring Tempes
ta, rises up and surrounds them, as they
wend their way towards the narrow path
that winds down the chasm, to the brink of
the rushing Tallulah. Worthy an artist’s
pencil were those tableaux vivant , which
might he seen, one after the other, as they
passed beneath the jutting rock. This
rock recalled to mind the sounding-board
of an old-fashioned pulpit, looking as if it
was rudely thrust into the side of the
chasm, a few feet overhead ; and the path
immediately under it being rather more lev
el, it seemed to be a resting-place, designed
by Nature for wearied travellers.
Emma Carey, with her slight but sym
metrical figure enveloped in a closely-fit
ting green habit—her rich flaxen hair fall
ing in silken luxuriance upon her shoul
ders—her gipsey hat, worn rather on the
side of her head, as she went on gaily con
versing with one young gentleman and
then another, seemed the very personifica
tion of coquetry. She had compromised
with Mrs. Oliver and her own conscience,
that this should be the last day of her pow
er—and she seemed indeed to be enjoying
it, for there were several gentlemen hover
ing around her.
Charlotts Carey and her lively cousin
George, were the last w ho passed the spot.
George Geflries was an exquisite of the
first order. His figure, rather small and
light, had all the charms which fashion
and art could throw around it. His head
was like an Adonis—the contour bespeak
ing Nature’s most perfect mould ; and yet,
a’though the brow was large and noble, it
seemed to indicate beauty rather than pow
er. To the eye of a phrenologist, his
mirthfulness was beautifully rounded, and
spoke its true language in the lingering
smiles that were ever playing around a
mouth seemingly made for either the light
sallies of mirth, or the lisping accents of a
dandy. Charlotte was not fond of his so
ciety, and yet with pertinacious persever
ance, he always sought it. lie seemed to
delight himself, not in congenialities, but
opposites.
“ You and I are both disappointed to
day, Cousin Charlotte. Your beau and
my little maiden are neither of them here
for us to flirt with.”
“ I beg you will not class me with 5-011 r
self,” said Charlotte. 11 1 have no idea of
flirting w ith any one, and particularly such
a one as Mr. Elliston, for I suppose it is
to him you allude.”
“ Ah, I remember,” said George : “he is
very grave and solemn. Do you know,
Charlotte, I thought him very angry with
my nonsense, the day we saw him at the
mill in Savannah ?”
“ Why should he have been so ?” said
Charlotte.
“Because he was deeply interested in
you ; in plain terms, he was in love,” said
George.
“George, you are incorrigible. You not
only flirt with the girls yourself, but you
make all kinds of experiments with the
reason and feelings of others, for your own
amusement. You certainly do not suppose
f believe what you say I” said Charlotte.
“I certainly do,” said George, “for if
ever eyes spoke love, his did ; and if ever
man was jealous, he was so that day.”
“You were very kind, indeed, my con
siderate cousin,” said Charlotte. “Why
did you trouble yourself to make him un
comfortable ?”
“ Because I was afraid, my dear cousin,
your heart would become entangled with a
poor mechanic—for although he was hand
some, and smart, and genteel, I could not
bear the idea of my proud and noble Char
lotte becoming a .nilleress, and entering in
to the study of pistons, and valves, and all
the etceteras of mechanical science.”
Charlotte turned upon him a look of su
preme contempt, as she replied—
“No doubt, George Geflries, you would
prefer being a millionaire, that you might
revel in luxuries, and dwell in the midst of
perfumes; but I beg you now, once more,
not to judge me by yourself.”
“ Well now, cousin, you talk very grave
ly,” said George. “ 1 should like to know
what you prefer?”
“I prefer a noble principle, such as ac
tuated Mr. Elliston to break through the
1 upper crust’ of society, and seek to lead a
useful, rather than a frivolous life.”
By this lime, they had reached the foot
of the chasm, and stood on the flat rock
around w hich the Tallulah rushes in wild
fury, and takesadouble leap into the abyss
below. The top of the rock is nearly on a j
level with the river, /or it washes over a ‘
part of it. tempting the thirsty and tired ad- |
venturer to partake oi the cooling waters.
The other side of the chasm rises in unap
proachable grandeur before them. The
“ Fairy’s Cave,” with its mysterious won
ders, yet unknown and undiscovered, is
seen to the right, far upon the face of the
mighty rock. The light and shade play
ing alternately from one fissure toanother.
give an appearance of life and animation
to the scene, while, on the veiy verge of
the chasm, and in bold relief against the
deep blue sky, may be seen a green fringe
of graceful pin“s, -waving to the breeze.
They stood for a moment in wrapt atten
tion ;. hut as George’s subliinest ideas could
never compensate him for having to be si
lent he soon broke through the spell.
“Come, Cousin Charlotte, let me assist
you along the narrow path to the foot of
the fall.”
“ No, George, you may go alone,” said
Charlotte. “We are not congenial spirits
—besides, I always loved this spot the best
of all, and will remain here till you return.”
So saying, she took off her bonnet, fan
ning herself with it; and as she put her
long dark curls aside from her beautiful
face, she sighed. She then reached a large
leaf near by, doubled it up like a cup, and
stooping, drank from the stream. Strange
coincidences often occur, and from their in
fluence on the destinies of men, they seem
heaven-directed. No doubt, often, amid
the silence and the grandeur of Nature, the
deer had quenched their thirst, and cooled
themselves in the water, that passed clear
and cool, and almost free from ripple, over
the rock—not comprehending the danger,
hut taiurht by the strong instincts of nature
to avoid the dangerous plunge. The dis
tant sound of the hounds in chase, had
been heard, floating in prolonged melody
along the chasm, reverberating from side
to side—and mingled as it was with the
falling waters, and the merry voices of the
gay party below, it seemed as if all Nature
was animated with life.
A frightened deer came bounding in short
leaps down the steep path, seeking safety
from his pursuers hy rushing on a more
terrible danger. When within a few feet
of the rock, he was startled, from some
cause, and made one bound into the fatal
torrent. Brushing violently by Charlotte,
while stooping to drink, she lost her bal
ance, and was thrown forward to the verv
edge of the rock. In one moment, all aid
would have been useless; hut a friendly
hand was near to rescue and to save.—
Charles Elliston had wandered away from
the hunters, desiring to take an early view
of the Falls. lie had been examining the
rock, and the winding paths at the foot of
the chasm, and for several moments had
been an admiring spectator of the beauti
ful, the dignified, the proud Charlotte Ca
rey. lie had even heard thesigh, and per
haps wished that it was for him. He rush
ed forward with uncontrollable feeling, and
lifting Charlotte from her dangerous posi
tion, found that she was insensible. Her
hair now hung in wet, massive waves, from
her head, as it rested in unconscious depen
dence in his arms. £hc was deathly pale,
hut her eye-lids, with their long dark fringe
resting on her lovely cheek, quivered with
. returning life, and a gentle rosy tint is seen
I coming up from the citadel of the heart.
Elliston for those few moments watched
’ her with intense interest, and now, that he
. sees these signs, exclaims with emotion—
“ My God, I thank thee.”
The voice seemed to speak to heart and
ear both, for she exclaims —“ Elliston, you
have saved me.”
The sweet murmur of her voice vibrated
on his heart and ear. She rose and stood
before him—looking earnestly, and with
devotion beaming from Iter eyes, she con
tinued—
“ How can 1 ever repay you ?”
“ With your love, Charlotte,” said Ellia
ton.
She moved nearer to him, laid her head
again upon that shoulder where it had un
consciously reposed, and said—
“ Elliston, I love you with my heart and
soul.”
“ Then, dear Charlotte, we are one,” said
Elliston, as he drew her to him. “My
heart has long been yours.”
We leave them to their explanations of
the past—the dear confidences of loving
hearts. Let not the materialist or utilita
rian deride ibis heaven-born visitant of the
human breast—this sweet consoler on life’s
weary way. Let not the rani? weed of en
vy fill the breast of those who feel not —
who love not—who have had the gentle
emotion crushed in its early promise, with
in their own hearts, and have none to whis
per in their ear, “How blessed it is to love
thee.”
Oh ! barren waste ol human suffering!
with no star to cheer, no sun to illumine
thy dark hours’. Where is thy hope ? Is
it to be found in the solitary musings of
thy mind? Or in vain wishes for those
hours that have fled away with quick
wings, perhaps never to return ? Listen,
intelligent soul, to the words of soberness
and truth. That benevolence which God
has endowed thee with, stands like a watch
maiden on the fiont portal of thy mind.—
She opens the door, and arouses the sweet
sympathies of thy nature. Go forth, then,
to do good. Bless the footsteps of others,
and the blessings of Heaven will descend
like honey-dew around thy own path.
When the party returned. Charlotte had
regained her composure, and there was an
added charm, undefinable and tender, about
her. It was the charm of a confiding soul.
Their attention had been arrested by the
terrible dash of the deer through the foam
ing torrent —they had seen him struggle in ‘
the deep basin, and then sink to rise no
more, from beneath the immense pressure
of the upward waters. This had consum- j
ed some time; but little did they know that !
Charlotte had nearly shared the same fate, j
Less did they suspect the source of her safe- :
ty.or the most precious “eclaircissement” of |
those happy moments.
Emma’s beautiful face was pale with
emotion, when she heard what her sister
had escaped; and in the gratitude of hei j
heart, she took Elliston’s hands between
her own small palms, declaring with ear
nestness she would “ ever love him, for i
saving her sweet sister.”
They then proceeded up the steep path, i
Elliston supporting Charlotte in her ascent, i
Their voices were more grave and modu- ;
lated than they were; and excepting an
occasional lisping criticism from George, on j
Charlotte’s appearance, there was nothing !
in any way calculated to restore their for-.
mer mirthfulness.
“ Cousin Emma, it should have been you
instead of Charlotte, to experience such an
adventure,” said George. “ She is so dig
nified, she does not appreciate it.”
“ And why, cousin George, should you
suppose I would appreciate it any more j
than Charlotte ?” said Emma.
“Oh, you would have looked so inter
esting in your green habit; and with your
flaxen hair dripping with water, you might
imagine yourself mistress of all hearts,
both by sea and by land,” said George.
“What comfort would that give me,”
said Emma, “if I could not realize that it
was indeed sd ?”
“ I concluded that fact was well estab
lished in your mind already. Your flatter
ers tell you so,” said George.
“ Do you suppose I expect to find a true
heart among those who flatter me ?” said
Emma.
“ Then you ought to feel that I have a
true one,” said George, “ for I never flatter
you.” Emma was silent, for her lip trem
bled with strange emotion. George con
tinued—“l have loved you too well to
flatter you.”
Emma responded—-“And I have loved
you for not doing it, cousin Geofge.
“ My loVe for you, fcmmn. is deep and
sincere,” said George.
Emma had only lime to whimper, “Mine
also,” when they reached the end of the
narrow path, at the top of the chasm.
There they were met by’ the hunters,
with their horses, hounds and deer It was
a lively finale to a successful hunt. Sev
eral deer were slung across the horses of
the fortunate hunters, who were each giv
ing an account to someone of his own
shot. Hounds, in various positions, were
scattered throughout the scene. Some
were lying on the greensward, with their
long tongues hanging out of their mouths,
and panting from the fatigues of the chase.
Others were walking around the horses,
lapping the blood, as it dripped from the
wounded animals. Others, again, were in
crouching observation of all that passed
around them. But at the farthest verge of
the company from the chasm, stood an in
dividual, around whom were clustered sev
eral of the finest-looking hounds. They
would leap upon him, so that, at times, he
was nearly hid from view. You might
hear him say, “Down, sir,’’ to one, and to
another more impudent than the rest, “Oh
yes, sir; you are too eager, sir.’’ This
was no other than Jimmy Day, of Lynch
law memory, who had been actually fright
ened into sobriety,
In the meantime, Charles Elliston and
Charlotte have reached the parly. She has
been congratulated on her fortunate es
cape, and he jested abundantly about his
successful hunt, accompanied with many
sly winks from his jovial friends; one more
bold and reckless than the rest, even ven
tured a pun on the word deer.
Charlotte still leans on his arm, as they
pass through the crowd on their way to
the “Tallulah 110101.” They approach
Jimmy Day, and as he sees them, he lifts
his fur cap respectfully from his head.
“Well, Mr. Day,” said Charles Elliston,
“do you still think it better to be drunk
than sober v ’
“Oh no, sir—there's no mistake, sir—
it’s better to be sober, sir,” said Jimmy.
“ How have you come to that conclu
sion, Mr. Day ?” said Charles Elliston.
“Well, sir, I’ll tell you how it was, sir.
One night I was in Clarksville; happy as
a lord, sir. Some of those secret police
men, (1 know they did it, sir,) took and
blacked me as black as a nigger, sir.—
When I was trotting home, sir, they caught
me, tied me, and read a long paper about
some man who was drunk and killed his
wife, till at last, fool-like, I thought it was
me that did it, sir. f can't tell you what
they did to me, sir; but from that night,
Jimmy Day has been a sober man, sir.”
“How did you find your wife when yon
got home, Mr. Day V’ said Charlotte.
“Well, madam, y'ou see I fell down on
the floor when I got there, insensible-like,
and didn’t know if Peggy wasaliveor not.
But when 1 came to again, Peggy was over
me, with her same good face, and had wa
ter and soap ready to wash me clean.”
“ Why did you think it was you that
had killed your wife V’ said Charlotte.
“Because, madam, I have been the very
devil to my wife since I married her; and
I thought may be I had killed her sure
enough, by beating her too hard.”
“Is it possible you ever beat your wife 1”
said Charlotte, and she looked indignantly
at the little insignificant man.
“Yes, madam. When the fire was in
me. I hated her because she was too good
and too quiet: and when the fire died out,
I was too foolish to love her; but Peggy
was always ready with a kind word and
something nourishing.”
“Did it not make yon sorry then, to
think you had treated her so cruelly I”
said Charlotte.
“ Too stupid, madam—too stupid to feel.
•Twas that fright, madam, that shook me
wide awake, so that I could see my own
dear wife and child.”
“Do you get along well now 1” said
Charlotte.
“Oh yes, madam. I make as good shoes
as ever, and Peggy is as happy as a bird,
sewing for Mrs. Ohvcr all day long,” said
Jimmy.
“ You ought to join the Sons of Tempe
rance now, Mr. Day,” said Charles.
“1 don’t feel strong enough yet, sir, to
put on a uniform and march with them;
but the marshals have got me hard and
fast, sir. I must either do without it four
years, or go to the Penitentiary, sir.”
“If you are strong in principle and in
tentions. the Sons of Temperance will re
ceive you as a life member, which would
be much better than yielding to force for
four years,” said Charles Elliston.
“ This is an instance where brute force is
necessary in controlling a brutish will,”
: said Charles to Charlotte; as they passed
■on. “How humbling it is to us lords,
: Charlotte, to see such specimens of hu
manity.”
“ What do you think ol a woman,” said
| Charlotte, “ whose love could shine upon
such an object 1”
“ Woman's love is always a blessing,
dear girl,” said Charles. “Like the gem
which may lie seen in the night, it is most
visible in the dark hours of adversity and
j gloom. I should say that she might he
I blessed in giving, but in receiving, doubly
| cursed.”
i “How could she possibly he blessed in
j loving such a man J” said Charlotte.
“To love him, she endowed him with
| imaginary virtues,” said Charles. “ She
i considers them obscured, not destroyed, by
I this beastly passion. She hopes yet to see
i them shine forth and bless her, and in the
meantime, feels the satisfaction of nourish
ing and cherishing them into anew e.xist
■ ence.”
“ Well, then,” said Charlotte, “ l can
easily conceive that she would be doubly
cursed in receiving, for she will receive
nothing but disappointment. Poor Peggy’s
fate is the fate of too many of that unhap
py class.”
They extended their conversation, sug
gesting remedies for these evils in society ;
but as we have already intimated our opin-
I ion in these pages, we leave them to con
duct it as they list.
What, Legislators of Georgia, can you
do—what will you do—to elevate such rep
resentatives of your sex as Jimmy Day J
Will you continue them in a state of easy
inquietude, with regard to makinga living!
Will you allow them, like petty tyrants, to
i command that their wives shall feed them,
and clothe them, and give them drink J
The eagle, to whose breast an arrow was
wafted by a feather from his own wing,
conveys an inadequate idea of the suffer
ings of woman. Let it not be so—let not
the breast which nourishes, receive fire in
return for the gentlest offices of life—let
not the hands labor, the heart throb in vain.
Let not that “hope deferred, which maketh
the heart sick,” like an ignis fatuus lead
them to the grave of despair,
CHAPTER IX.
One short year had sufficed to brush the
bloom from the ripe fruit of Genevra’s hap
piness. With her whole soul she had con
fided—with her whole heart she had devo
tedly loved. Her mind, the stronghold of
intelligent mortals, was soon to surrender
to the power of an imperious will. Yea—
what, in all the experiences of this world,
is woman’s mind before one beloved ? Oh!
the soft affections of the heart! how they
smooth down the unevenness of life!—
Look at the gentle, the placid surface of
married life, and say, if you can, that there
is not something holy and sacred in wo
man'slove. Oh. woman! your love indeed
disarms you of all strength. First you re
sign luxuries —then superfluities—often
even the comforts of life—then, last and
greatest evil of all, you yield your mind a
slave to a cringing selfishness. It exhausts
even the sympathies of your nature; they
are expended, and expended for one alone,
till even the very “olive plants” that are
clustering around you, are left without
nourishment and support.
Poor G^.ievra! you have yet no plants
to nourish, no tender offspring to cheer your
solitary hours! Even the yonthful asso
ciations, the tender sympathies of child
hood, are fast fading from your mind! We
have prepared you—the peruser of these
lines—for the denouement of our tale. Du
pont had married, not to promote the hap
piness of her he had taken to his bosom,
but for his own aggrandizement. With a
mind more wandering and wayward than
the winds of heaven, he had an uncontrol
lable ambition for power and influence.
He was conscious of his own fascinating
powers, and with it, was most sensibly
conscious of the power of money. He
now assiduously bent his mind to gaining
an influence over men, since he had it in
his power to claim so large art interest
among the citizens of our State. He had
looked forward to the extensive possessions
of the Ellistons, with a determination to
possess them through Genevra, and event
ual lj', by them, to step into the highest
honors of the State. Thus it is, we see
men of all classes crowding around him.
Hunting parties, dinner parties, boat-races,
atti-act crowds of ihe higher classes of so
ciety to the hospitable Island Cottage, while
plans of improvement, pursued on an ex
tensive Scale, gather around him men of the
lower order.
Where is Genevra. and what has she
become, amid this rush of occupation ?
She xvas there, a lovely, loving and confi
ding Woman still ; but her loveliness was
changed—her loving heart doubted—her
confiding spirit was becoming waywarJ fn
her lord’s uncertain smile. There was
something less eaithly, hut more ethet.ally