Newspaper Page Text
|y, and told him that he was welcome to the
use of my books, and to such aid as I could
atlbrd him in the prosecution of his studies.
That my charge for those young gentlemen
who were able to pay me conveniently, was
one hundred dollars’ per annum; but those
who could not atlbrd this expenditure. I willing
ly received without charge. He replied that
he had no money, and could only say, that
after he should be qualified to practice, and
had got into business, which he hoped lie would
not be long in doing, he would remit my fee
from the West. He set in accordingly, pay
ing his board, and providing himself with cloth
ing, by taking a class of young men, to whom
he” gave instruction at nights, in Latin and
Greek, and was never absent from the ollice
one day for three years, at which time he was
admitted to the bar. He now again took up
his cane and bundle, continuing his tramp
over the mountains, and sat himself down in
the then territory of Indiana, whence he re
mitted me, in small sums, from time to time,
the whole amount of my fee. 1 wrote to him
declaring that I was unwilling to receive his
money, and hoping that he would consider me
satisfied; but he insisted upon paying me
every farthing. And now that man is a Sena
tor to Congress from the West, building up a
well-earned fame among the Amphyctyons of
the Union.”
ENERGY OF CHARACTER.
Energy of character is the philosoj licr’s
stone of this life, and should be engraved upon
every heart. It is that which has peopled
the temple of fame—that which has filled the
historic pages with great names, and the civil
and military world—that which has brought
a race from barbarism, drawn tue veil from
science, and developed the wondrous powers
of Nature. It makes men great and makes
men rich. First or last, it brings success.
Without it, Webster would have been a New
Hampshire lawyer, Tom Ewing a buckeye
salt boiler, and Ben Franklin a journeyman
printer. Without it Demosthenes would have
stammered on to his grave, and Cervantes died
a common soldier. Shakspeare would have
been shot for poaching —Pope died selling
tape —Roscoo lived by selling beer “by the
small”—and Bonaparte have gone out of the
world a Corsican bully. With it each one
has not only done much good for himselt—
much for his day and generation —but much
for the world in the past, the present and lu
ture.
thoughts and images.
We look with wonder at the spectacle]
which astronomy presents to us, ot thousands
of worlds and systems of worlds weaving]
together their harmonious movements into one
great whole. But the view of the hearts ot men
furnished by lustory, considered as a combina
tion of biographies, is immeasurably more
awful and pathetic. Every water-drop ot the
millions in that dusky sircam is a living heart,
u world of worlds! How vast ami stumgc,
and sad and living a thing he only knows at
all who has gained knowledge by labor, ex
perience, and suffering ; and he knows it not
perfectly.
The fundamental affirmation of all rcasona
able and, therefore, of all right religion, the
highest of truths revealed to man, is this, that
the infinite, eternal, and absolute Being, wills
all good, and only good, and that by good is
meant not merely whatever we dare to fancy
that he might choose to will, but that which
suits the wants, and completes in the fullest
form, the existence of all other beings. Every
doctrine opposed to this is superstitious fanati
cism or blasphemous scoilmg.
I low overpowering arc the mingled murmur,
clang, tramp, and rattle of a body of troops,
with all their footsteps, horses, arms, artillery,
and varied voices ! How insignificant com
pared with this uproar, the speech of a single
mouth ! Yet the whisper of one mouth sets in
motion and drives on to death and devastation
twenty such bodies, comprising, perhaps a
hundred thousand human lives.
There are minds, or seem to lie such, which
we can only compare to a noble cathedral of
vast size, beautiful proportions, and covered
with graceful ornaments. Nothing that art
can supply to devotion appears wanting till we
approach the great door and try to enter, when
we find the seeming building only a solid rock
outwardly carved into that appearance.
That men would be better than they are if
they always choose good instead of evil is evi
dent. But that they would be better, or in
deed could have a rational existence, if they
had not the power of choosing evil instead of
good, is the most foolish ahd presumptuous of
fancies.
Voltaire thought he was looking through a
handsome French window at God and the
universe,and painting us pictures of them,while
in truth, the glass was a mirror, and he saw
and copied only his own scoffiug face.
Many have the talents which would make
them poets if they had the genius. A few
have the genius yet want the talent.
No man is so born a poet but that lie needs
to be regenerated into a poetic artist.
Speech is a pump by which we raise and
pour out the water from the great lake of
Thought—whither it flows back again.
TIIE PIRATE AND THE DOVE.
The following intesresting fact is related by
Audubon, in his Ornithological Biography.
In speaking of the Zenaida dove, he says :
“ A man who was once a pirate assured me
that several times, while at certain wells dug
in the burning shelly sands of a well known
kev, which must lie here nameless, the soft and
melancholy cry of the dove awoke in his breast
feelings which had long slumbered, melted his
heart to repentance, and caused him to linger
at the spot in a state of mind which he only,
who compares the wretchedness of guilt with
in him, with the happiness of former innocence,
can truely feel. He said he never left the
place without increased fears of futurity, as.
sociated, as he was, although I believe by
force, with a band of the most desperate villains
that ever annoyed the navigation of the Florida
coast. So deeply moved was he by the notes
of the bird, and especially by them of a dove,
the only soothing sounds he ever heard during
his life of horrors, that through these plaintive
notes, and them alone, he was induced to es
cape from his vessel, abandon his turbulent
companions, and return to a family deploring
his absence. After paying a parting visit to
those wells, and listening once more to the
cooings of the Zauaida dove, he poured out
his soul in supplication for mercy, and once
more became what one had said to be, ‘the
noblest work of God, an honest man.’ His
escape was effected amidst difficulties and
dangers, but no danger seemed to him to be
comparable with the danger of one living in
the violation of human and divine law's, and
now he lives in {>eace in the midst of his friends.’
SALARIES OF GOVERNORS OF STATES.
That of the Governor of Louisiana, is
$7,500 ; of the Governors of New York and
Pennsylvania, $4,000; of Massachusetts,
3,606; S. Carolina, 3,500 ; of Virginia,
3,333; of Georgia, 3,000; of Maryland,
2,066; of Mississippi and Kentucky, 2,500;
of New Jersey, N. Carolina, Alabama and
Tennessee, 3,000 each ; Maine and Missouri,
1500 each; Delaware, 1333; Ohio, 1200;
Connecticut, 1100; New Hampshire, 1000;
Indiana, 1000; Illinois, 1000; Vermont,
750 ; Rhode Island, 400.
ORIGINAL.
For the Southern Post.
RICHARD, TIIETWOLF-KILLER ;
OK, THE TWO WEDDINGS.
FREE TRANSLATION FROM THE FRENCH.
[ CONTINUED. ]
“ Open,'mild, generous and modest, Hen
ry was adorned with all the qualities that a
father may wish to see in his son, and con
sidered by all a most accomplished young man:
free from pride and prejudice, lie acknowldeg
ed no difference between men, except that
which results from education and personal
merit. Although less athletic than Richard,
he was remarkable for his graceful and manly
deportment : his eyes were full of expression,
his features handsome, his countenance noble
and commanding. Oh ! that lie had never
known us ! that his fate had never led him to
this house! that he had never conceived for
Theresa a passion that was to be so fatal t*
both!
“ I witnessed the origin of this mutual love,
I watched its progress: more yet, 1 encoura
ged it. Oh! If 1 could have foreseen by what
sorrows, by what tears I was to expiate my
error, I would have taken him by the hand,
when first he offered to pass the threshold ; I
would have said to him: “Aivay, ill-fated
young man, away ! what do you want here ?
See you not that the ground you tread is slip
pery, that these walls are damp with a vapor of
murder and blood ?” But, alas! as blind as
he, I saw nothing, I would see nothing; and
when on the evening of the first day he spent
with us, the innocent Theresa, after his depar
ture, asked me in a whisper what 1 thought of
the young stranger, while Richard, with pale,
contracted lips, was listning to us, more sullen
than ever; I answered, smiling, that he was
all perfection, and that 1 knew but one girl de
serving such a husband. From that time Hen
ry became a constant and welcome visiter.
“ About two months after he had been ac
quainted with us, he and Theresa were one
day fishing on the bank of this pond ; and you
may well think that the fish had the privilege
often to bite, without incurring the risk of be
ing caught, when Mr. Emery requested me to
go lor Richard, who had come in the morning,
and who, finding Henry at home, had preten
ded fatigue to have an oportunily of retiring to
his room. lie came down, and as Henry and
Theresa were masked by the willows on the
border of the pond, he did not perceive them
before ascending the stairs that led to the bouse.
I then chanced to cast my eyes on him : his
features were hideously distorted, and Iris looks
terrified me.
44 4 Richard,’ said his uncle to him, after I
had retired to the next room, whence I could
overhear all that was said ; 4 Richard, I must
chide you. Think not, child, that I will ever
sacrifice my daughter’s happiness and luture
prospects to tu ly possible consideration: I have
left Theresa her own free choice. It is true
that two or three years ago, she did not appear
quite averse to the idea of one day becoming
your wife, but since, and chiefly from the time
of poor Mr. Durand’s death, a great change
has taken place in her. Whether her dislike
towards you arose from the consideration of
the fatal negligence that detained you here,
when it was so easy for you to accompany and
protect him, or from any other cause, I do not
pretend to decide ; hut certain it is, that her
inclination, if I tnay so call the indifference of
a child, has been converted into real aversion.
Now a young gentleman, whose fortune and
accomplishments are well known to you, whom
of late, you called your friend, sues for my
consent; he loves Thcrsa, and lam certain is
loved by her. I will leave the point to you :
is it my duty, as a father, to reject such ad
vantages ?’ Here was a pause, at last Rich
ard said he did not think it was.
“‘Well, very well,’ continued Mr. Emery,
who, no doubt, had not remarked the strange
tone of his nephew’s voice, 4 1 see I Itave not
to do with an ungrateful boy : you will not
imbitter my old age, Richard ; you have not
forgotten that I am the brother of your poor
mother Marie Anne, that 1 have fostered and
protected your infancy, that I have supported
you as a father does his son in the needy days
of your youth. Thauk you, Richard, thank
you! My tenderness will provide a rich reward
to repay you for yourdevotion. But, my dear
boy, lie not generous by halves: your cousin’s
wedding is to lie celebrated this day week :
well, instead of keeping distant from us, instead
of avoiding our presence as a rival, as a man
under the influence of the most vile of pas
sions, envy, be what you ought to be, a rela
tive, a friend ; partake of our joy, and tell
Henry, who grieves to see you so cold towards
him, that you love him as much as before.’
44 4 1 will,’ said Richard, with a low, concen
trated voice, 4 not to-morrow, but to-day, at
this very moment.’ Heat ing the noise of a
chair violently pushed back, I looked thro’ the
THE SOUTHERN POST.
window, and saw him walking out with his
uncle. His step was firm and steady, and
both went where the young people were still
fishing. 4 Cousin,’ said he to Henry, 4 per
mit me to congratulate you ; my uncle has
just imparted me news that did not surprise
me—in eight days, you become the happy hus
band ofhis daughter. I must confess that as
long as I could see any chance of success, I
was bent upon disputing her hand ; but now
that the thing is decided, I forget that we were
rivals, and request you to consider me as youi
best friend.’
44 All this was done with so much rapidity,
there was in the composed accent of Richard
jsuch a mixture of duplicity, frankness and
irony, that I did not know what to think of it.
iAs for Henry, he was caught by such unex
pected language, and taking hold of the prof
fered hand, expressed with the effusion of a
sincere heart his joy at having regained the
affection of one whose friendship he valued so
much.
! 44 4 And you, Tliercsa, do you say nothing ?’
added Richard, addressing his pretty cousin,
who with her eyes rivited upon him, had list
ened serious, as if pondering on each of his
words : 4 Why to look at me thus ? Would
you, perchance, be mad with me for not hav
ing more strenuously disputed your hand ?
This would be, I think, to push too fur the spi
rit of coquetry implanted in the female breast.
Well, I will give you an opportunity to prove,
as Henry did, that you keep no resentment
I against me. We have to-morrow a splendid
] hunting party, the aim of which is nothing less
j than the destruction of the Lynx that escaped
(from the menagerie, during the last feast at
J Mormant, and which, for six months, has done
so much mischief in Brie. Two days ago,
the newspapers announced that it had retreat
ed into the thicket ofMassouri; but either the
j newspapers have not been well infot med, or
:clsc the animal has run a long race in a very
short time, for the day before yesterday at
noon, it was devouring a man in the wood of
Joissigny, and at night entered the forest of
Crecy, which it visits for the first time. This
morning I have myself pursued it to the open
ing of an impenetrable covert. I invite you
to come to see the chase—you, my uncle, and
] Henry ; this is an important expedition that
| will attract many, as there is a bounty of five
] thousand francs for the lucky shot that will de
liver the country from the monster: and en
couraged, by your presence, fair cousin,’ ad
ded he, 4 may I lose the surname of wolf-kil
ler, if the prize belong to any other but me.’
44 He waited not for an answer, but vaulting
oil Milan, his favorite horse—that hearing his
master’s voice had come to him from the sta
ble—he bowed gracefully, and clapping spurs
to his steed, 4 a demain ,’ cried he, as he pas
sed rapidly the gate, 4 the rendezvous is at
eight in the morning, ala Mai son Noure .’
“ Next day at dawn, when all nature awakes,
when the cool breeze of the morning fans the
silent bowers, and innumerable drops of dew
bang, as so many pearls, from plants & leaves,
we were proceeding on horseback to the desig
nated spot.
44 The invitation of Richard had been the
subject of grave deliberations. Although his
reconciliation with Ilenry bore the semblance
of candor and sincerity, our minds were far
front being easy, suspicion and distrust were
preying upon them ; and it was late in the
night, when it was determined that we should
go. Under such circumstances, our journey
was any thing but pleasant, and our appearance
did certainly not indicate that we were antici
pating much gratification from it.
“ After we bad left the flowery path in the
meadows, we followed the course of the brook
by which the forest is surrounded as with a
vast girlde. Once engaged there, we felt it
impossible to withstand the sad influence of
the place, and became still more dejected. The
appearance of the forest, theskiits of which
were feebly illuminated by the rising sun, whilst
the rest of the mass remained enveloped in
deep shade ; the sound of the leaves agitated
by the wind, the plaintive song of the wood
pigeon, the noise and confusion of cries, that
seemed to issue from the inmost recesses, the
mysterious murmur of running waters, of
beasts calling each other, ofinsects rustling un
der the grass, all contributed to involve our
souls with profound melancholy, that Henry’s
amiabilty and forced sprightliness strove, but
in vain, to dispel.
“ At the end of three hours, we reached the
mansion inhabited by Richard.
44 It was an old, dark, isolated building, the
approach to which was defended by a treble
rampart of trees, ditches and walls, a draw
bridge and a postern. It had, in former times,
belonged to a congregation of monks, who had
come to settle there for the purpose of offer
ing an asylum to strayed travellers, and to
protect them from the dangers to which they
might have been exposed at a late hour in the
forest; but truly, its appearance was no way
calculated to inspire one with hope and confi
dence, and it looked very much like the strong
bold of a gang of robbers.
44 A flourish of trumpets and horns, re-ech
oed far and wide by the woods, announced out
arrival, as the clock of the ancient chapel
struck eight : to my ears the sound was like a
funeral knell. Before we had alighted, we
were received by Richard, in his rich and gal
lant uniform of Lieutenant des Chasses, and
girt with a splendid belt, from which hung a
short, thick cimiter. Either he was in a more
lively mood that day, or else the prospect of
being the hero of the feast agreeably flattered
his vanity, for an unusual smile was playing
around his lips. 4 By St. Andrew, the patron
of the house,’ cried he, 4 you are welcome, my
lovely gues*s; breakfast is served up, and we
were waiting for you.’ So saying, he offered
his band to Theresa, and leading the way thro’
a long passage, showed us to a vast hall, where
I we found a company of about forty gentlemen,
1 the best hunters of the country, who had come
] allured, not by the hope of the proffered re
j ward, but by the novelty of the chase, and less
i disposed to dispute a prize, which they had be
forehand abandoned to the avowed superiori
ty of their leader, than to submit to the least
ofhis commands.
“ At the moment the door was opened, there
was in the hall a confused noise of voices ;
all the men were speaking and laughing, some
relating their own exploits, some proposing
plans for the conduct of the day : but we had
'no sooner stepped in than all conversation
ceased, and a murmur of general admiration
arose as Theresa, embellished yet by the crim
son hue that mantled her cheeks, advanced,
led by Richard. The banquet was elegant,
the guests lively, and the ball filled with mirth
and laughter, when suddenly the sound of a
; trumpet was heard at a distance. It acted like
a spell; there was a general start, surprise
was depicted on every countenance, deep si
lence prevailed, and all the eyes were turned
to Richard.
44 4 What is that V said he, rising precipi
tantly and hastening to a window, 4 it sounds
like an apj/el .’
“And as other notes now more intense
broke in : 4 no doubt,’ exclaimed he, 4 it is an
] appel, and moreover forced, for it is sur le
grele. On horseback, gentlemen, we have no
time to lose.’
44 In a moment, men, dogs, and horses were
] ready, and set out at full speed, under Richard’s
] command : none remained but Henry and
Theresa’s father.
| 44 4 Well, Henry, what are you thinking of?’
said Theresa.
44 4 1 think,’ replied he, 4 that your company
has more charms for me than such a wild
chase, and I had rather stay with a pretty girl
than run after a lynx.’
44 4 You do net mean, then, to contend for
' the prize ?’
44 4 What prize ? the five thousand francs
promised for the head of the monster? In
deed I do, if it is your wish.’
44 4 Ah !’ said the capricious girl, flattered
with the answer. 4 1 should certainly like,’
continued she, w'ith a malicious smile, 4 to see
you victorious, but you know cousin Richard
said he would be content to lose the name of
wolf-killer, if the prize was carried by any oth
er hut him, and I do not suppose you have the
presumption to think of disputing it to one of
such vast skill and renown.’
44 4 Only bid me do it,’ returned the impa
tient young man ; and as she nodded assent,
he and Mr. Emery rode off in search of the
chase.
“ They were soon out of our sight, but not
out of our thoughts. We then wdked in the
direction they had taken, conversing on such
topics as are congenial to young girl’s feelings,
and insensibly found ourselves at a pretty con
siderable distance from the house. As the
day was hot and oppressive, we began to feel
fatigued ; and looking round for shelter, soon
discovered what we were in search of.
44 At the foot of a high rock, crowned by a
cluster of trees, was a grotto, decked with ver
dant ivy and wild, uncultivated flowers. Its
aperture so narrow, at first, that it was impos
sible for two persons to enter it abreast, went
gradually widening, and terminated in a semi
circular excavation, from which flowed a sweet
murmuring rill. Allured by the charms of
that cool,still retreat, mysteriously lighted from
above by a few rays penetrating through a fis
sure in the rock, we entered it, and rested our
selves on seats of turf, secure undei the guard
of Max, a large and faithful mastiff that had
accompanied us from home, and which laid
himself down at our feet.
44 We had just begun to enjoy the beauty of
the place, when a strange, startling noise was
heard from above ; the mastiff growled and
suddenly sprung out, his hair bristling, his eyes
flashing fire. I rose and followed him to as
certain the cause of the alarm ; but judge what
was my surprise, my terror, when turning on
one side of the rock, I perceived on tkc other
an enormous animal impetuously rushing into
the grotto, preceded by the retreating dog.
“I gave a loud, convulsive outcry which
was responded to by a still more terrific scream
from Teresa, to whom flight was impossible
for want of an issue, and who bad fainted at
the sight of the monster. Soon the sound of
the trumpets and the deafening bowlings of
a pack of ardent hounds revealed to me fully
the horror of her situation.
“ The lynx, wounded, pursued, infuriate ; a
ferocious animal, that in two months had de
voured nineteen persons —shut up in a narrow
space with a feeble young girl!
44 1 despaired of her life, chiefly when I saw
myself surrounded by a multitude of blood
thirsty hounds, full of blind rage, deaf to the
voice of their masters, and that, without a
prompt assistance, were going to tear me to
pieces.
44 At last Richard and Henry arrived, and
alter them the rest of the party, separated by
more or less distance ; but I was so overpow
ered by terror, that I found it impossible to ut
ter a single word, and could hardly explain by
signs the danger of Theresa.
“In a moment all were alighted. They
drove off by dint of whipping the dogs that
were barking round the cavern, though none
durst venture in; aud then the most appalling
spectacle offered itself to our view. In a cor
ner of the grotto was stretched Theresa, who
had lost anguish in insensibility, and at two
feet from her, stood Max, undaunted, setting
his teeth fiercely, and barring the way to the
lynx, ready to spring on his victim. The dan
ger was urging : had the dog retreated ever
Jso little, had he been fascinated by the fiery
| eyes ofhis enemy, all would have been over;
and unfortunately, such was the situation of
the actors in this awful drama, all placed on a
line, that it was impossible to the most expert,
to Richard himself, to use a rifle without run
ning the risk of shooting one in taking aim at
the other. A resource was left, but one dread
ful, fraught with unavoidable dangers : it was
to enter the cavern and to struggle singly with
the animal in the midst of the narrow passage.
“ 4 My fortune to him who will save my
daughter!’ cried Mr. Emery, wringing his
hands in an agony of distress ; 4 my fortune
to him who will save her!’ but all stood mute,
none offered to undertake the perilous a'tempt,
and the poor father, pale, breathless, was re
peating with a fainting voice, 4 my daughter!
my darling ! oh, save my daughter !’
“ 4 Will you give me her hand if I save her V
said, at last, Richard, coldly speculating on the
paternal feelings of the old man, and setting a
price on his cousin’s life.
44 Mr. Emery hesitated a moment, and look
ed round for Henry—Henry his other child,
the betrothed ofhis Theresa, the hope and pride
of his old age —but in vain; alas ! Henry was
not to be seen—he had disappeared !
44 Meanwhile, an angry roaring, like distant
thunder, broke upon our cars. i
“ 4 Will you give her hand to me,’ said a
gain the pitiless Richard, 4 to me who am go
ing to expose my life for her, when a coward-’
“ 4 Yes!’ replied the wretched father. The
word was no sooner out, than drawing his cim
iter the Lieutenant rushed to the cavern,
“ But, oh, wonder ! Scarcely had he set
his foot on the entrance, that a violent explo
sion shook it to its very foundations ; and a
moment after a man issued front it, amidst a
cloud of smoke, holding a carbine in his hand,
and carrying on his shoulder a female with her
hair dishevelled, and pale as if touched by the
hand of death. It was Henry who had snatch
ed from the deadly jaws of the monster her
who to him was dearer than life ; for whilst
others stood petrified before the grotto, he had
ascended the top of the rock, and perceiving
the cleft in it, had fastened his horse’s bridle to
the roots of one of the trees that grew there,
and thus let himself down through that narrow
aperture, at the peril of his life.
44 He was received with universal applause,
and when Theresa, recalled to life, opened her
eyes, she found herself supported in her lover’s
arms—and understood how much she w'as in
debted to him, in seeing Max licking his hands
stained with blood.
“ Mr. Emery', in an estacy of gratitude and
joy, commanded the palpitating body of the
lynx to be brought out, and with the pleasure
of a child, who avenges himself, helped to sep
arate from the trunk the hideous head. 4 Here.’
cried he, 4 here I have found the bullet that kil
led the animal; truly it w'as lodged in the right
place ; take it, Henry, and keep it by for an
other occasion.’
44 4 My friends,’ exclaimed the generous
| youth, ‘you know I am entitled to the bounty
| of five thousand francs, but I do not claim it;
! let it be yours, and divide it between yoursel
ves : then ardently cathing to his breast the
j still affrighted girl— 4 here,’ cried he, 4 here is
my best, sweetest reward, and I wish no
! more.’
• 4 At that moment, Richard, who had kept at
: some distance, approached, and taking him a
i side, 4 Decidedly, sir,’ whispered lie with bit
ter irony, 4 decidedly fate favors you, but take
; care, and remember that there is no rival ever
|so unlucky who may not, soon or late, find
means to retrieve his losses.’
[concluded next week.]
Fir the Southern Post.
THE ADVENTURE.
The whippoorwill had begun his nightly
serenade, and the solitary' owl chaunted his
mournful note from the ruined forest trees.
All nature else was still: and by the twinkling
light of the stars, two benighted travellers
might be seen, silently wending their way
through a vast forest, which, as yet, had never
echoed the sound of the woodman’s axe. At
some distance before them was a large sw'ampy
tract, which presented its dark outline in the
distance, and, by its forbidding appearance,
seemed well calculated to awaken, in the
breasts of our travellers, those superstitions
notions which ever form a principal trait in
the chai acter of the ignorant; especially as it
was near the hour in which departed spirits
are supposed to revisit this upper world. The
countrymen, for such their dress proclaimed
them to be, were both upon horse-back. They
had been transacting business until late, in the
next market town, and a desire to reach their
homes as speedily as possible, was the cause
of their travelling at so unseasonable an hour.
Both wore young men; but widely different
in their appearance. Lawton, the smaller of
the tw'o, was a good-1 umored, care-for-no
tliing, generous fellow, who would go to any
lenngth to have a joke, even though he enjoy
ed it at the expense of his friends. lie pos
sessid a light, active form, and the fashiona
ble cut of his coat showed him to be of the
higher circles of society.
His companion was quite a different kind of
being; large and athletic, though well propor
tioned, he was a very desirable friend, in a
case of emergency, provided there were no
ghosts: he was, moreover, inclined to be testy,
if pressed too hard upon the subject, when
that feeling was not overcome by a more pow
erful one—fear.
As they advanced, the conversation very
naturally turned upon ghosts, and Lawton, by
degrees, drew from his companion not only
his belief in supernatural being, but also his
fear on the present occasion. Without no
ticing his trepidation, he declared his entire
concurrence, and farther stated, that the wood
through which they were passing was said to
be haunted. This was anew piece of infor
mation to Revan, and served greatly to in
crease his fears. Every bush assumed some
fearful shape, and every leaf that rustled in the
breeze seemed like the sound of the goblins’
dance. His fears were not relieved, when
Lawton suddenly reined up his horse, at a
fork of the road, and declared his intention of
passing the night with a relation, at some dis
tance off.
“But, Lawton,” said Revan, trembling with
fear, “can’t you go another time?”
44 No. 1 promised positively I would go to
night, and his feelings would be hurt, were he
to know that I passed his house at midnight
without calling ”
44 O, you had better come home now, for”—
“ Do you see that large bending tree yonder
at the turn of-road ?” said Lawton, suddenly
interrupting, 44 Well, just beyond that, there
was a woman hung for killing a child; her
grave is just at the foot of the tree; and they
say that some nights you can see her walking
along there with the rope around her neck, just
as it was when she came to be hung. And
you can hear the piteous cries of a child, as if
about to be killed. O, I would not go by
there for any thing!”
44 But come on, Lawton, she won’t hurt
us,” said Revan, assuming a tone of earnest
intreaty, as he sidled up, and looked cautious
ly around, as if he expo* ted to see her at his
elbow. “Come on!” “Now, Revan, you
had better ride slowiy, so as not to make much
noise, and keep on the opposite side of the
road, and perhaps you may escape.”
“ What’s that, Lawton ?” said Revan, grasp
ing his arm convulsively. 44 Did’nt you hear
a noise!”
44 No, it’s nothing but the wind. Good
night.” So saying, be rode rapidly away,
i Revan would have followed him, but he was
lost to sight in an instant by the windings of
the road, and he feared to call, lest lie should
arouse the woman with the rope around her
neck. He remained silent, fearing either to
advance or recede, while to remain stationary
was equally dangerous. Now, fair render
should you be disposed to ridicule his idle fears'
only imagine yourself in his situation, in the'
midst of a forest at midnight, several mile*
from any inhabited dwelling, with the fearful
certainty of meeting the restless spirit of a
murderess, decked in the habiliments of the
gallows, and the grave. And say, then, could
you be unmoved.
He mused a few moments, then gave his
horse the rein, who naturally pursued the di
rection of bis stable, and took his course to:,
wards the swamp. The way began gradual
ly to grew darker, for the tali thick cypresses,
the branches of which nearly met over the
road, threw their sombre shade around him,
while the thick undergrowth almost entirely
excluded the little light furnished by the stars.
Re van was fearfully alive to every change in
the scenery, and was afraid to look round,
w hile, by a strange fatality, he could look no.
w here, but just in the direction he expected to
see the apparition. At length he approached
the much dreaded turn in the road, and every
step his horse gave seemed to awake an echo
in the surrounding woods: the lonely hooting
of the owl had a more hollow sound, and the
shrill notes of the whippoorwill, he thought,
foreboded him ill. lie had gained the turn,
and passed the dreaded tree, and was begin,
ning to congratulate himself upon his happy
escape, when a faint cry arrested his atten
tion. He strained his eyes to distinguish some
thing in the direction whence it proceeded,
but could see nothing. Thinking it merely
imagination, he resumed his course—again
the cry was repeated, he looked, and thought
he saw something more—yes, it was no ima
gination—there came, what seemed to him—
the woman ! He could plainly hear the rope
dragging over the leaves, and again he heard
the smothered cry of a child, as if in the ago-
nies of death.” 44 The Lord preserve us,” he
ejaculated, and the hair rose upon his head.
Ho was utterly deprived of motion, and sat
like a statue gazing at the apparnticn. It
was black, save what seemed a white apron,
and a cap usually worn by convicts upon the
gallows. It had but one eye, placed in the
middle of the face, which glared with an un
earthly brilliancy,and threw a ghastly light over
the whole countenance. It approached—Re
van waited for no more—but, dashing the
rowels into his horse’s flanks, he boundi and into
( full speed. The apparition followed, and soon
they were rushing madly forward in the dark.
They continued at this rate for some time,
when Revan, losing all patience at being thus
pursued, and forgetting his fear, pettishly ex
cl limed,
“ What the devil does she want with me?"
and wheeled his horse to meet his opponent.
But no sooner did he see that flaming eye, than
he turned, and fied, if possible, faster than be
fore. At length, in ascending a small hill, his
horse stumbled and threw him over his head,
lie, for the first time, roared lustily for help,
blit continued his course on foot, not daring to
look whether he was pursued or not. llow
ever he arrived safely at the next house, and,
after thumping and hallooing for sometime,
succeeded in arousing the inmates, and ex
plained, in a few words, his situaiion. A torch
was soon procured, and, accompanied by the
master of the house, he retraced bis steps to
obtain his horse, and examine the goblin more
closciy. After going a short distance, they
met Lawton, leading the horse.
44 llow in the world, Revan, did you man
age to lose your horse ?” said be, as soon as
came w ithin hailing distance. 44 Lord Law
ton, I wish you had been here,” said Revan,
not yet recovered from his fright. 14 There
were three or four of them after me, and it
was a Lord’s mercy they did’nt catch me.”
44 Three or four, Revan ?”
“Confound you,” was his only answer, as
he just then noticed the cigar in his mouth,
and white handkerchief around his head. The
hearty laugh they enjoyed at Revan’s expense
may easily be imagined, and afterwards, in
that neighborhood, a lighted cigar received the
cognomen of “ the ghost’s eye.” And now,
as our friend “W. Bonypart Barlow” would
say, I have drawn a notion or two from that,
viz:
Ist. That, when \vc expect to be frightened,
imagination will fashion into the appearance of
a goblin the most common object. And,
2d. That if, in such cases, wc would exa
mine into the cause of our fears, we would of
ten find a friend in the shape of a ghost. C.
Grcensborough, Geo.
For the Southern Post.
SONG.
Air —“ Bonny Doon.”
Oh, I have dreamed of sunny isles,
Which slumber on the deep blue sea,
Where Heaven sheds its sweetest smiles,
And brightest joys, though not for me.
And oft, amid my waking hours,
My wand’ring fancy brings to view,
This Eden land, with fairy bowers,
And flowerets gay of every hue.
And I have wander’d many a day,
Through this drear world, o’er land and sea,
But never, in my lonely way,
Found aught like this, reserved for me,
Yet I have thought that, w hen I die,
And earthly scenes shall cease to bo
I’ll find a home beyond the sky,
Where sunny isles shall bloom for me.
Oh, I have dreamed of music sweet.
Stealing in softness o’er the wave,
And when each echo seemed to meet,
They sunk together in their grave.
And with that music came the sound
Os human voices sweetly shrill,
Which slumbered long and wildly round,
Then died away, and all was still.
And I have sought, in life’s wild waste,
O’er flowery vale and rugged hill,
For notes so musical and chaste,
And human voices, so sweetly shrill,
But never yet have heard the sound
W’liich stole so sweedy o'er the sea,
And fear it never will be found,
Except in heaven such music be.
H r arrtnton, Ga. E. M. P.