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13V GARDNER & BARROW TH£ {;EORVIA ?IJRROi{, Ic published every Saturday, in Fluresce wart county, Ga. at FHKEK DOLLARS a , r if pt din advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, , t > i.l until the end of the year, v ~,K K j. ; i sr, will lie conspicuously inserted . Dollar per square, (15 lines) the lirst, and -, t . PUts for a subsequent insertion- N. a j.. r ij lines will be considered !•■*- P a ~ e. A deduction will be mad? for ; -J --advertisements In :; !■ and in for publication ii i limitation, will •: / "H. l l t.'l forbid, ~1-aed accordingly. of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad . i-utors and Guardians, are required by lav* ■ advertised in a public Gazette, sixty u.o - ias to the day of sale. , , j tie of Personal jnroperty must b - adver 'i in lue lnanii .r forty days. .otic-' to Debtors and Creditors cf an estate be published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the • ; •'! of Ordinary for leave to sell Land and Ne most be published weeklv for four months. All Letters on business must be post pv; to insure attention. 5E3?. We are authorised so is announce ISAAC L. S'l KEE 1 r MAN as a candidate for Sheriff ol Sieivarf county at the next elec tion. Sept. 8, 1838. 24 We arc authorised to *’ "A " an novtuce LEWIS WILLIAMS —ns a candidate for Tax Collector of Stewart county at the election Januaiy next. Sept. 8 ‘-24 We are authorised to mnovmce WILLIAM A. BELL a candidate tor Receiver of Tax ReturiJS for Stewart county at the .D:: iu- next election. Sept. 8,183 m ? Ini ■ l*o f. 'ill. S niis i*i■ *vs will ? t... tin first Monday I in January next, som* valuable business • Florence, immediately opposite the Ferry, u ,ui:.- is 'CRutifu! for the location ot • “t and from the iii< : ca-iug wealth m the couti i Dnuc o»i ttu .'riauaboochee - those who os wait be .la.ad-ai’iie'.v profiled by the ....... ,„. ; nev vVl'at vii! make this ~ - ... i,.,Hi* that his located i.ntncdi , . (v : -«Rif watch we have no doubt will r- v*t*> enhance ts m orta.uee, as well as add to \, y .. r v i the so. n.- ! lace. T-rms vtii! be liberal. Florence Oct 13th i'"3c MA I'THEV \V F.RKT’I KOfil HT W. W-' i I*.Ms •3f> ts LOST" v n 1-j NOTE-O’ k- ii Lewis Grimes for . 57 ... • O > A :-. t,.-i.at;.ir- to Harper & Grey; . ltn ••• , ' p, 'r; r: a-ie -payable to Robert Rcvnrd.i« for m-V. oi negro tor forty dollars and vi -ts- one ors said Pickett, given to m> • atnoiMU not recollected; ori'f. 'note •>»- r ».tvan for tweotv dollars payable *o i IV. :’i one note on W-ilham Johnson fifraeo : h > r . arm hftv cen*s, pawW« to Ha; V (j., v ... t f .r; *,• a>n A . Lunsford tot - ■ ■no J,,.q|, a Pickett. i'»r twenty- four dollars, ,v >•, .. Vr A. Grey i and-on V-on William oi s " iv.: '4->n% r .s. rath a Credit not reroHect*. , a , ux ;,nv per .on ho'.v;. trading for the above ■ ov i ; ;e drawers troni pay ini to my but my finding s.id antes and deliver • . ffisnd, so that 1 can get ii.. „sbpi 8? air-o'v c v-.rded. • QS..PH M HARPER. L uiii!ab.as‘.ee, Stewart 00. 1 6t«y 1 h 37 8 TOP THE MimmHERS! #looo' RFW VltD, \\ r -LL be paid, by the undersigned, for the vs apprehension of John Step *£* Solomon Step, who murdered MARTIN FRALEY, sen- on the th October, inst near Wolf's Ferry, in Harden •minty, Tenn. HN STEP is about 26 years of age, 5 feet 9 inches high, dark complexion, dark eyes, k hair, iuclinedto curl, and very low forehead. - ue middle joint of the fore-bnger of his light hand is considarably enlarged, occasioned, it is supposed, by a hurt. SOLOMON STEP is about 23 or 24 years of age, 5 feet Ll inches high, stout built, a little in clined to be stoop shouldered, dark complexion, dark ey- lark ha , . lined to curl, and very \;h 'heck bones. The bone* of his right hand - ' een broken hear the middle of the palm, -.on a considerable ridge on the back of *:i- har'd. The :-':»'•••• i nerlv resided in the Cherokee cauntr? ,i j i. . and it •« thought they will cither make ihei. way back to Georgia or strike for Texas. The above reward will be paid on their delivery in Harden countv. Ten. or a proportionable re ■ward for either. SALLY FRALEY. HENDERSON G. FRALEY. JACKSON FRALEY, SAMUEL LENOX. October 29 3£ tft From the Southern Literary .Messenger. THE CURSE OF THE FORSAKEN. Go! and whei. o'er thy faithless heart, Thou traitor to thy vows and me, Joy dash -, with i phantom's art, Like h Jitniups on a ra-itig Sea— -I’iie . ;ai an! cai-t a buriiitigthought ‘*a ti t •••Hose wrong thy doom have wrought. Forgive thee! yes! who stoops to hate ! ije viper that infest h:, path ? its venom may oui v-ias dil ate, Bur cannot .iivei' o :r sou is to wrath ; Thou wort the vq or to my re t ihy lhng—not malice— goadr my breast. i ive thee! yes! but never can >! n seif, for y ielding trust 0“ . whos" seuibhin •* “as of man, L'. t <‘t .vi - sj-. uwas of dust; li i ; u n ft it tall, lin >■.'-i .ii“ wod to tue cup ot gall. Forget the” 1 would I could forget! Ala®, oblivion has no stream, EKe storied Lethe, whereto wet The heart, and it from shame redeem: It is, when woman ouce lias fell. Her curse to need no after hell. But. thanks to memory’s marid’ning torch, The flame that mocks rnewi»b the past Can pierce the future's misty porch. And tells a doom for the at last; While God upholds in Heaven hissway. Sin stalks not here a thornless way. Go ! 6cek oblivion’s iron hand, On earth's remote a. shore—-in vain! Forever wilt thou bear the brand That scared the h; ::r* and brow of Cain: But (Jain s remorse run i >v i l ow The soul of one so hard a-. -;>ou. 1 will not die—but cherish life, 'tl As vis' ■!. watched their holy flame, Till it shall - i■ tlk y frenzied strife Jo >c” i me buried in thy shame : Then sink- twill be the sting of hell That we together there must dwell. r„ t. B. W. IE J-\rrrr. H, .. / - Jtikclch lioa- 1 fC *. A SB3TIMF.3T4I. S 1 ■ ‘ There is no faith in Woman I exel.otr.; and to >:v.v t.e othei . lining, and I repeated it thrice w»tii increasing entphasi* .‘There in * -m -i; Hr, « hat woman bas taught you to thins, mi : ' -:n ' • soft voice near me. l' t irted, ior i had most rtnconscioiisiy been •.[ ; tny thoughts aloud, while leaning on trie ?,icU «»t my cousin Agatha's couch, with my eyes resting outlie sheet ot nus.c paper which lay befcie her. 1 coloured as ”er glauce met mine. "Nay—is it not tv*- ? ’ saio i. "Nay,” she repeate i —"I will not he a:iswere< by a nay ! —cousin !'■ ury ■ ’ "But mv dear cousin- my deal Agatha"— c* <?d 1, "you arc a woman, and a beautiful wo nian -■ vou can be no judge." 1 rosin:' 1 ‘ hiiit it,” said Agatha sini u :v to do with either my ■v.vr mhood, y n- U went f” "The»e von may answer it vourseif —what wo lKin can judge ot her sex’s failings ' what beau tiful woman cmi ti rai i iirly by a -'ste! beauty ?' "Is this all!" r<mi!»-i sh-, "Then you htve learned to libei us merely from tim cant ol tiie day "It'iij the mt of ages," paid T ’"Surely not!- ;h van? o* tlm arf ess and the ntfmeauin- ■ k >it t " -v. -r,- t”•• *■ •-■ < heart and head to think vim f H no, nv dear cousin, do not repeat it -s . o? .i ?• tst and truth m woman.’ "Agatha,” said i, ."why have you never mar ried ?” "Harry,” returned she. wV * ' •« : 'i opinion of our sex ’ "Pshaw! but with y< »r beauty, and your wit, and your fortune and cousequ r,e "Tell me—why do v i v.ih us?"— "Hairy,” continued my c>, . • iteirupting me with more earnestness,."we mu • not let our own individual disappointum-;** disgust ue with the world at large—sean h -.veil, and vo shall discover our - :>•-,<i< -t us tie content though wo n-ot but one taith* nhe irt amidst a crowd of treach»rv.” “ \rid tiow shall we find it?” Where shall we meet with this faithud heart rn woman ? No. Agatha,” cried ?, you mistake the character of woman—you to not know her—you cannot know her—you. who must always be every way above the rest of your sex, tnd as different as inimita ble!” She was silent, she was even grave for a m >- merit or two, and the shade ot thought in the ex pression of her bland and beautiful countenance seemed almost as if it grew into sadness. She looked at me with a smile,” said she, "tell nm your history? you have been unfortunate;” and she pointed with her small and snow white hand to the vacant seat beside her on the sofa. Titer” was a gentleness, a delicacy, and a ten deruess in mv cousin Agatha’s disposition w hich gave a charm to her slightest action. It was a i gracefulness >f her character which seemed to • have insured the gracefulness of her person and everv motion though it was a something beyond grac” which made her tone of feeling, both in gaiety and sorrow, irresistible. I seated myself beside her on the sola, and did as she bid me. "I have been in love,” said I, ‘‘it is my | whole history .” FLORENCE, GA. MONDAY. DECEMBER 3, 1338. •‘And what then ?” she inquired, “was your . mistress unfaithful ?” "1 fcave told you all in one word—woman and infidelity so touetEer!” I paused for some min utes, and wlieu I spoke again I had obtained more self-possession. "When i first went abroad," said I, "I spent some time at Florence. The fashionable lounge was the picture-gallery and there was 1 a daily visiter; buts went thither really to gratify my passion for p rintings, and not to gaze, and be gazed at by the company. Uue m .ruing while 1 was standing a® usual before my favourite study, I was startled bv someone tapping me lightly on the shoulder, 1 suddenly turned round—it was a lady, and one of the most beautiful of earth’s crea tures; but her look and attitude were even more striking than her countenance and figure. She was, in a manner, stealing a glauce into my face, with such a curiosity, and interest, and earnest ness, blended with such a fanciful coqu try and intelligence in her expression as amazed me.— She enjoyed my surprise and admiration for about half a second,‘and then w trh the most natural negli gence in the w orld,pointed gracefully with the hand which still rested on my arm, to the ground, it was her hatidkeichief that "had fallen at my feet, and 1 instantly stooped, and raised it. Sbo stretched out her hand to receive it. befors 1 had even time to present it to h i, nodded her head half with the air of a pi a<ed child, half with the air of a woman of f.i.ihion, and then folding her arms in her drapery round her, resumed her con.etnpla tton of tli« painting before us, which this little accident seemed to have disturbed. I stood .vith my eyes fastened on her, woydenng who this en thralling creature could tie. She had that deci ded air or fashion which there is no mistaking, a?m a certain an much superior to it ; but theie was a something so whimsical in her style of dress, and in her style of appearence altogether, to make me feel uncertain w h it to think of her “Just at 1 was looking round to inquire her name of some bystander, she turned and addres sed me . : forget now what it was she said tome, - •inerlii: about my favourite painting, or my , o, :.ii fondness for pictures whatever it might be. i was so much a novice in fashion as to feel uncomfortable at. her speaking to mo. i remem ber. however, that though her words were select, h* r manner struck me as commonplace , she, moreover, seemed to me a coquette, ami 1 imme diately concluded that she must be marked by ah the siliness of heij*;las.s In appearance she might have been about two or three-and twenty, but 1 suspect she was more, perhaps from my own in ex oi fence, for she struck me as being used to the - v i 1 Id Tr was evident that site was ire of r •an miration which sue oau >• • that sip aid • xpneted it, > f therefore pleased win: it, anJ meant to exe tea little more. No ■ ; ---.it , !::••», {.• -bably no one but such a boy a>: i wm>id have been seized with these reflec tions at the moment that she was soliciting tny at tention; but very voung men and young men unac customed to genera? society, are naturally more alive to what is real and what is affected in char ter »in those of older and better acquaintance withs but whose very acquaintance has served to trammel them into its manoeuvres and intric aeies. "She turned away after some minutes, and joined her party a few paces off. My eye followed them as they moved up the gallety ; she shame always conspicuous among the throng of gentle men who gathered as she went, around her. in clr.--ur.ua numbers, while now pausing for a se cond in a picturesque attitude to examine a pain ting—now breaking on my ear in tones of exag gerated feeling either of horror orofcctasv —now partaking with faint effort in the cat usl vivacity ot her attending bevy, or leading with startling violence a sudden laugh- I believe 1 bad just then a rage for simplicity tor ever.- her : harms disgusted me. She was an Eng" ‘ * >m*n too, and had just been commenting, perhaps with un grateful sarcasm, o i the freedom of Florentine manners. At the upper end of the gallery I lost sight of her, and wh* • ’ looked around me I found that the crowd had followed her—there was not a creature near me “Do you not know her ?' said someone whom ? had appioache lon purpns u> question. "It is the honourable Mrs. Beauvillier.s, the celebrated Mrs. Beauviliers, she was the greatest beauty of the day- or of any day, and she never comes here vithout making a sensation, by tlie witty, she means to have you in her train l fancy, for I saw her cast her eyes on you the moment she en tered the room.” •‘lt is incredible how even the turn of a phrase -an effect us. These few last words had realized ail my own thoughts with regard to Mrs. Beau villiers. “What then,” said I, “she’s a coquette ?” "By no means,” cried the other, "only a little addicted to Platonic love and fashionable ad mirers. She lias us a!! fast here, we all wear her | colours. Though, par parenthe.se, 1 thought her | a little gone by this morning, these beauties never : know when to give them up.” "Come,” said he. "I’ll introduce you. "Pardon me,” answered f, “1 know her per fectlv already.” "I saw Mr.s. Beauvilliers again, it was at a ball ! that very evening. She had just withdrawn a | little out of th” circle of waltzers, and was leaning | against a pillar changing her white satin slippers. On” gentleman stood beside her husied in receiv ing the discard’d pair; another proffered the fresh ones; and the third, her fortune partner, with one knee on the ground, supported her deli cate feet by turns on the other and fastened the sandels. “How old is she?” asked I, for I felt quite a curiosity to discover, “Lord,” answered the person next me. "I have known her culling heart i.he-m fifty years !” "She could not be fifty, though she had cer tainly worn better than anv person l know : even when near I could not have supposed h p r past : thirtv. “I can scarcely say how much I dislike this i discription of character. It revolted agaiust all my notions of feminine propriety ; that sensitive dignity of woman’s peculiar nature! It offended all mv most respectable feeliugs towards the sex, and 1 remember I stood aloof during the eveumg troiu Mrs. Beauvilliers, boyishly abashed at her frivolous familiarity of manners. 1 left Florence soon after, but carried some of her impressions along with me. She spoiled me for the uext twelvemonth. I had never before beeu vain of my personal qualifications, but it was not easy to forget that they had not been absolutely unattrac tnve. This was all that dwelt with me. and some years of after life passed on the comment, though they may have habituated me to the looseness of its and ‘coruni, have never destroyed my esteem for all that is beautiful in purity !” I stopped for J felt that I was considerably agi tated and my silence was of some duration. "You will proceed Harry ?” said my cousin gently, "for your story is both interesting aud in structive.” "Yes,” auswered I, "but it is somewhat diffi cult ' and i still hesitated. "You should have seen her.” 1 exclaimed at length, abruptly. "Y'ou should’have known her, though she was scarcely handsome ! will only half uauie herto you, Agatha, as I have named her to her sell in the last days of our acquaintance—Gabrieila,” "It is just about three years since we first met; I remember it well, for even then it was to me a circumstance of importance. 1 was iudroduced to her iu a private concert room just as her car riage was announced—she had beeu *taudiug near the door-way, and 1 wa« the last peiaou tlic Cuned to as she left tli* room. I remember it was near , the end of the season. She was the fashion iu London, but I had never admired her. I had heard her talked of as beautiful, but I had never tiiou -lit her so. She was striking, but it was au air of fashion more than either beauty or grace iu tier appearance. I 1-Led her reception of me; I had always allowed her to be a fine wourau, and I found something extremely agreeable iu her countenance when she spoke, and extreme good ature in her general mauner. She rather inter ested me than otherwise, though ehe had only iust stayed to receive my bow, and observe to me, * that she was going,” as she went out ‘‘•She had quitted town for the country before I could see her again, aud not long alter 1 followed her thither. 1 forgst now who it was that invited me ; l think it was some connexion of the family. •*ho«e employment was to furnish the table with guests, md the guests witii society. Gabriella’s husband was o* a rude description oi men; he v i- seldom to be seen in the house but at dinner, an ) at dinner he i ked to ha.e plenty of people to led society, at table they had his society, but other wise these general chance k,tidof guests were but little attended to. I should scarcely have availed myself, however, of this manner of admittance to hospitality, had I not beeu rather forced into cal lin'’ on them on my accidental meeting some of the party in the neighbourhood. “Agatha.” cried I, "I scarcely know why I re peat these details, for it is uueacy for me to recall the memory of our first acquaintance. “If you had known her you would have par doned the madness of my love—had you known Gabrieila you would have wept for the cruelty of her caprice ! Her spirit of coquetry was indeed untamed, untameable. She pursued her victim with unweared skill; flung wbh captivating ingen uity, her whole heart into his service ; wouud her grateful toils around his existeuce, and urged on with irresistible persuasion the tortures of that grief which she contemplated with remorseless m,-1 insatiable ambition. How 1 tried to leave her—how I tried to escape the influence of her fascinations, it seems of littls purpose to tell. I did not ieave her, and Gabriella’s smiles returned. Tie ould weep too; at times I have seen a start ling tear bedew her cheek. But why should I instruct you in ail the arts and all the expedients of tier most reprehensible coqutery; it was as restless as extravagant. She b*d probably never loved her husband, and esteem wts what she could be«tow on none. She was incapable of friend ship: her heart hid been framed to a sentiment she had no steadiness in her nature to persevere in her affections. Her husband was little calcu lated to excite either, and to Gabrieila he was entirely unsuited. They seldom met, but no appearence of unharmony subsisted between them. I have known her consult him on a matter of duty, and him leave to her the choice of in scriptions on his dog collars. He never inter ferred with her, but he w*s sometimes glad to have her look well when she sat at the bead of his table. "Her appearance had never been the lure which attracted me; and her appearence was then, in mv opinion, by much, her least qualification.— Y r et she possessed a large share of the essentials which constitute beauty ; her outline of feature was good, and her complexion must once have been brilliant: at times it was still beautiful, for Gabrieila was no longer quite what is called a very young woman when I knew her. "She had the address to turn this want of ad miration to her person on my part, into her most absolute attraction. Her charms consisted in her undeviating amibility of manner ; in her apparent forbearance of disposition, in her constant pro priety of temper, in her implicit obedience to the caprice of her admirer, and her seeming readiness of obedience to any exertion of authority, from the man whom she had received as her husband. 1 love to dwell on this part of her character; I could cling to the thought that she might once have deserved better; that she was not all that she appeared to me when we last met and parted ; a heartless, practiced, unblushing, and unprin cipled coquette ! "We have periods of feeling when it requires j but little to op n our eves to the real disposition ;of matters carried on around us; and once ! awakened, it ;* a«tnni*hing -how quick wcgioW into wisdom. It must be always impossible in the' after moments to trace the many, various, j almost imperceptible accidents that may have oc- V®l. I.—Ne. 35. curred to bring us acquainted with the delusions practiced on us—perhaps which we have ourselves too readily iudulged. To you it may be difficult to comprehend from how slight a circumstance my impression of Gabrieila’* character were first set tled into the more sober reflection* ou her be haviour. "1 had been staggered by sentiment, and it seemed -.o me a profligate sentiment. We were talkiug ou the freedom of Italian manners, inure especially that of the women, aud she was expa tiating on them with considerable eagerness. I remember she used the words ‘the luxury of their independence, their perf ct want of control, all form—odious form !’ aud she threw her eyes up to heaven as she spoke. She had beautiful‘eyes, but tuis time their appeal seemed to me out of place. She threw them on me, but they did not move uie, aud she yielded her opinions as she al ways did, only with less hesitation than was usual with her, for me to be as usual satisfied with her victory. I was peculiarly sensitive on this one point—the delicacy of a woman's deportment; and Gabrielia's manner had sometimes disturbed me. 1 had sometimes wondered at her self-pos siou, too, only that to m* she never was self-pos sessed. She had ofteu turned off an uncomforta ble sentence with a gay laugh, which lias covered me with confusion and offeuce, and i have felt that 1 should yet been more at ease had she beeu less so., "I was silent for some time after, and thought ful, and Gabrieila tried to woo me into better com pany. She was seldom unsuccessful, and in soanilily »t grew into conversation again. One or two of the rest of the company joined us and, we gathered into a litle circle round her sofa. "The discourse turned on maimers, but this time it was on English manner*. A gentleman present, and who, by the way, was rather a cele brated traveller, j*st risen, or rising i«to fame and fashiou, observed that iu no country in the world did there exist such perfect domestic and conjugal happiness as in England- —such au entire confi dence betw eeu husband aud wife—such a perfect union both of heart and of mind. "Gabrieila assented cordially, and applauded the feeling with warmth. I hacj turned away, and when 1 looked again I found her eyes were ben6 upon the traveller. "Wheie, iu what country,” pursued "do w* find such and agreeable social intercourse to pre vail btween a man and his wife. Even in tho highest walk* of hfe, there is visible such au ex quisite and charming familiarity. To take a fan ciful view of the subject, for iu6tance, that one circumstance of calling each other by the Chris tian name, abbreviated as we hear it too, in every nntuiblc »»•! At r «•» ril a a*' •*- - * ' * * vuruuici. * "Poor Mama!” exclaimed Gabrieila, “I re member mama, always called poor papa, Beau!” "Who was your mother?” i-aid I. "Heavens!” cried she, "don’t you know?— the Beautiful Beauvilliers—‘Labella Belissima,* as she was called in Italy ! I was in mourning for her when I first aaw you. Have you never seen the beautiful miniature of mama in my room V * “I have seen the original.” auswered I, "in th» picture gallery at Florence.” "Whether it was the tone of my voice, for I felt that it was altered, or the expression of nay countenance, for it was crimsoned to the temples", that struck Gabrieila, 1 know not, but she changed the conversation. For my part 1 had relapsed into my silence, and I aunk away. Gabrieila the daughter of Mrs. Beauvilliers. “Why have you never told me that you had been to Florence?” said she nest morning when we were alone. "How odd! we must have been there together, and we weie strangers!” "I knew jo*r mother,” said I. "Poor mamma! heavens! how beautiful she must have been But did you absolutely know her. I thought I had known the whole circle of mama’s admirers.” But why need I go on. It was perhaps, for tunate forme that I could never separate the con nection between M s Besuvilliera and Gabreilla. The early impression c! her mother which had been left so strongly on my mind, could not be effaced by any recurrence to the daughter. I could never think of Gabrieila without recalling to my recollection Mrs. Beauviliers in the pic ture gallery, or in the ball-room at Florence.— Howsver disguised might be tbeir manner, their conduct was too similar to bear comparison.— From the suddeness with which the veil of niy illusions fell from my ey es almost from that very hour, it would seem now a.« if 1 had been influen ced by prejudice. But no, it was Gabriella’s self that it cast from me. True, my knowledge of her mother’s character had given me an insight into the character of the daughter. It had made me think, and thought was destruction to Gabrieila. Her behaviour could not bear investigation—her character still less no. It was not the shock of Mrs. Beauviliers as a mother that had disturbed me, it was the dread of Mrs. Beauvilliers as a model for too apt representation ; and what as the folly of a foolish won:au would have passed without other reproach, grew criminal in the more gifted intellect cf her daughsr. "Gabriella’s defence was powerless. The dream which had wraped my senses gave way gradually but quickly, as the imperfect light that had first dawned on me broke into open day. Her strug gles to retain her victim became only the more reprehensible, her real grief at his escape only the greater earnest of the 6elfis'n, frivolous vanity which had induced his capture. Her powers of complete self interest ;.nd indifference to all beside were indeed wonderful! With a voice, a look, a gesture, still pleading with well feigned motive for clefay, she turned without a moment lost to lament her failure, from the resolute departure of the one lover, to play w ith unabated assiduity the same game over again w ith another. "My last glimpse of her, as my chaise rolled rapidly awav showed her tnroinsr from on. tranee door into the little walk that leads to her flower-gardeu, leaning on the arm of the traveller. "But to the end, mistress of her art, she has left without 3 of h<* tjpwoj*hi*egk still