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(low among the flowering cainillias. Before it
stood an alabaster vase; the picture ol a young
lovely girl looked down, as il from the wall, in
tenderness upon it; books were there behind
gilded wire-work; all was bright and beautiful.
This little boudoir opened into the drawing room,
where a youth was playing some grand sacred
music; the dove flew from side to side of'the
cage ; some hotly heard, and said the poor bird
wants to get out, he sees the daylight through the
window; so they put down the Venetian blind
and a soft green gloom, as of a wood in sunshine,
filled the room. The youth continued to play,
and the poet’s children came in to listen also;
nobody but them thought more ol the dove. “ r J he
dove does not like it,’’ said they to each other, for
the dove was more to them than the musie;‘*it
distresses him, it is no use telling them not to play;
but oh! how unhappy he is! Let us take him
and hang him in our room; it is so quiet there.’
They hung his cage in their pretty room; call
ed him the sweetest names they could think of,
and w'ent dow r n to listen to the beautiful music.
But they could not forget the dove. In less than
an hour they stole up stairs: the room w r as dusk,
and the bird calm and still; they thought he
slept; and they closed the door soltly lest they
should wake him. The next time they looked
at him he was just in the same place ; they mount
ed on a chair, peeped into the cage, and then they
knew the truth. His little life, like that of the
young musician and the old monk of Carmel, had
passed away on the spiritual wings ol harmony.
Life is a strange riddle; and all that I have told
you of the little-dove is quite true.
siisiMi w jlkbs.
Contributed by the Author.
NIGHT AND SUNSHINE;
OR THE ODD FELLOWS CHRISTMAS.
CHAPTER I.
“ Past twelve o’clock ! ” cried the distant watch
man, as the last stroke of the midnight hour w r as
faintly borne through the violent tempest to the
overstrained ear of a lovely girl, sitting in alowly
tenement, that creaked and swayed to every blast
as if complaing of its fury. “ Past tw r elve o’clock
oh! why don’t he come ! ” half audibly muttered
Mary Linton, convulsively pressing together her
clasped hands in her icy fear; for there, before
her lay that which must awe the stoutest, ere the
frequency of the spectacle has numbed the shrink
ing sensibilities of our nature —the stiffening rel
ics of humanity ; and bending over the corpse as
she wreathed her bony fingers into many a dis
gusting figure, glared op her from her stony eyes,
an idiot girl; alas! for the contrast: life, in its in
tensitv of beauty—in the freshness of youth and
*/ *
health—in the joyousness of existence ; death , in
the emaciated, aged corpse, whose sharpened
features told of cares and suffering; and yet,
alas! alas—for the contrast! Life and Death
linked in horrid sisterhood, in that soulless idiot
laughing and gibbering in her mirthless glee over
the ghastly body of her now lied mother.
Well might poor Mary tremble ! unused in the
hush of night to open her eyes upon aught less
peaceful than the silken curtains of her pleasant
chamber, yet, who had the prompting of hu
manity left that luxurious home to minister to her
suffering fellow-beings, fearful was that hour!—
the broken slumber of the only living inmate of
that dreary room, save the senseless girl, came
mingling its suffering sighs with the wailings of
the storm, to which the beating of the hail, and
moaning of an ominous dog without, formed but
a saddening variation; and still as the blasts
whirled round that crazy domicile t yelling as mad
dened because they could not overthrow 7 it, louder
and more frantically rang the laughter of the in
sane girl.
Gloomily had that day set in, and gloomy in
deed w 7 ere the reveries of the watchers by the
sick couch of the aged sufferer, sinking fast in
death, hut who now 7 slept so calmly, and wore
such a placid smile upon her countenance, that
they almost envied her. Little did Mrs. Arden or
her daughter dream, as they sat hut a few months
since in their distant comfortable home, surrounded
by the elegancies of refinement, that they would
shortly he glad to gain the shelter of even such an
humble roof, and he dependent upon those, who
100 often fatten on the toil of the widow and or
phan, for a scanty maintenance.
Mrs. Arden w r as the daughter of wealthy pa
rents in one of the northern cities, losing her moth
er in her infancy, she became the idol of her father
hut mercantile reverses, year after year, sapped
his spirits, and the loss of a large venture at sea,
on which the insurance was, by some legal quib
ble, unjustly withheld, threw him upon his death
bed ; leaving his daughter an orphan with hut a
few 7 hundred dollars inheritance. Accidentally
thrown in the Charles Arden, they speedily
became mutually enamored, and were wedded
without the lady learning from her lover the op
position made by his father to their union.
Charles Arden w 7 as the only child of an opulent
merchant, whose wife had been dead many years.
It was his father’s intention, as soon as his “colle
giate course was over, to take him with him in his
firm, which w r as eagerly desired by his partner,
with whose daughter it was proposed he should
he joined in wedlock. Engaged together in busi
ness many years, the partners had formed a fra-
ternal friendship, and it was their favorite dream
that in their children’s marriage, their houses,
wealth and kindly feelings would he perpetuated,
hut when did wise plans or grave heads guide
love? With the lady of his choice Charles met,
and an attachment was formed before he was
even made acquainted with the cherished designs
of his father, who would not listen a moment to
anv remonstrance ot his son —accustomed to im
plicit obedience, it almost astonished him that
Charles should even dare to love without his di
rection, and the curt reply to all his son could
urge w r as, “ that il he did not at once diop all
thoughts of any other union than the one lie had
proposed, not only would he incur his Listing dis
pleasure, hut he would cast him off without leav
ing him one farthing ol his fortune. But Charles
inherited something of the determination of his
father, and, ignorant of the pertinancy and obdu
racy of that parent, for separated neatly all hib
life by his school and college days, he understood
not the character with w hich he w'as dealing, and
concluded that if the irrevocable step was once ta
ken his father must relent, in an unlucky moment
the lovers were wed, alas! too soon he discovered
his error, for the hopes of his father’s forgiveness
were quickly dashed, when on his revealing his
marriage, his implacable parent ordered him never
again to cross his threshhold, and alter several
weeks of incessant importunity, the seal was put
upon his hopes by reading, one morning in a pub
lic print, greatly to his astonishment, a notice of
his father’s second marriage; convinced now that
hope was useless, he set himself to lay out some
plan for his future conduct; without capital,
and ignorant of business, the only prospect be
fore him w r as that of taking charge of a school. —
Opportunely an opening occurred in one of the
western States, for he could not dream of re
maining in his native city, and embracing the oc
casion,.a few weeks after saw 7 him entered upon
the duties of his vocation, success crowned his
efforts, and before two years had passed, in the
smiling home that an affectionate wife and the
sunshine of an infant’s laughter spread, Charles
Arden never regretted the fortune he had re
nounced with a venal marriage.
CHAPTER 11.
The proper understanding of our narrative
makes it requisite that w r e should glance at the
elder Mr. Arden’s history after his rupture with
his son; impetuous as obdurate, he resolved
never to forgive the heinousness of his son in
daring to make his own selection of a wdfe, and
thus disappointed of the domestic happiness he
had anticipated in that son’s family, he now con
cluded to create one for himself. It might he
percolating that inexplicable mystery, the human
heart, too closely to search how far his w 7 as influ
enced by a stern satisfaction in speculating upon
the bitterness of this step to his son, which would
be to him a convincing proof of his rejection,
suffice it that his immense weath made his ad
dresses any thing hut unwelcome to the lady he
selected, and after but three weeks from his son’s
marriage he led home a wife who was to supply
the yearnings of his dissatisfied bosom.
A daughter was the fruit of this union, and in
his visions of the future the merchant once more
beheld the vacuum filled. Alas ! that child grew
up, without the light of intellect ever beaming
from her eye, and after all that wealth lavishly
expended could effect, the horrid truth was forced
upon his mind that his daughter was a helpless
idiot.
Bitterly now, as day bv day wore on, without
one gleam of sunshine, did that leaden-hearted
man regret his rejection of his son, and had
Charles appeared, how 7 cordially would he have
been welcomed ; but his direction w 7 as unknown;
his despondency wrought so heavily upon his
spirits, that what was at first but a slight in
disposition by which he was attacked, became
so aggravated as to terminate fatally. Had he
survived, his widow felt conscious that the huJk
of his large fortune w 7 ould have been bequeathed
to his son; hut nought appearing to the contrary,
she inherited, by virtue of a will made a few
weeks after marriage, his undivided estate. Al
though thus legally entitled, the lady felt many
misgivings of conscience, and a secret prompting
to render the property to w hom she felt it was
justly due, bat how strong are the hands of temp
tation ; especially when those chains are gold !
and years rolled on without her hearkening to the
still, small voice w 7 ithin. Increasing infirmities,
and the knowledge of the utter uselessness of this
world’s w r ealth to her afflicted daughter, were the
instruments employed by Providence to work a
change at length within her. Indeed from the
first she had regularly intended some such course,
being perhaps rather a weak than an evil minded
woman.—Summoning up all her resolution, she
heroically, in the true spirit of a Christian, re
solved to make ample reparation for the w 7 rong
she how 7 perhaps too acutely felt she had practiced
upon Charles Arden; and an advertisement was
placed in several papers, as a preliminary step,
requesting him or his heirs to appear personally
in New York, as such a course would be greatly
to their advantage.
Eager now that he should not be defrauded of
his right, she not only used such legal mea
sures as to secure to him two-thirds of the es
tate left by his father, hut also from the remain
der scrupulously added the interest which should
have accrued upon it, and took such steps as to
place it out of her power, even should she so de
sire hereafter, to withdraw one farthing of the
property thus disposed until such proof was af
forded that no claimants existed. r l he advertise
ment referred to a house in New \ork, where
she waited perhaps a } 7 'ear, anxiously ex
pecting, though in vain, some tidings of her step
son; at the expiration of this time by the advice of
her physician she removed to Baltimore, led to
this step by the faint hope that her daughter’s
health would be benefitted by a change of air and
climate. Her own fortune, (well was it that the
larger one of Charles had not been so disposed!)
she placed in the United States Bank, hardly had
she been settled in her new home when she was
astonished by the failure of that institution, and
this one blow reduced her from opulence almost
to penury. Her first step after she had some
what recovered from the stunning effects of the
news was to remove to a less costly residence, but
with her at least, was verified the old pro
verb, that ‘misfortunes seldom come single,’ for
from this she was ejected by a most disastrous
fire, and now in her declining days, with her in
sane daughter, was Mrs. Arden driven, if she
would avoid the Alms-house, to depend upon her
needle, for the scanty sustenance doled out too
often by heartless avarice to its necessitated
victims.
CHAPTER 111.
Return we to Charles Arden and his family.
‘Now my dear that you’ve acquired a knowledge
of your business, can’t we turn it to account in
some method calculated to gratify yonr father t
who has so thoughtfully caused you to be instruo
ted, not only that you may be useful in whatever
sphere of life you may be thrown, but also should
it be so ordered, be able to maintain yourself by
your exertions.’
‘Oh! I WQuld love, Mother! above all things, to
present Pa with anew cloak for a Christmas gift,’
rejoined Caaroline Arden, the same child who
had gladdened the first years of Charles Arden’s
marriage, sixteen or seventeen years ago, and
who now again appears, after the lapse of that
period, had ripened the bud into a sweetly beau
tiful flower.
‘And if you think yourself capable, my daugh
ter, of making it, you shall be gratified, for your
farther’s is quite worn out, and of late years his
business has so depreciated that I know he will
not be persuaded to furnish himself with another
this winter.’
‘But how will I obtain the materials without his
knowledge and consent,’ enquired Caroline.
‘Why you know,'rejoined the mother, ‘that I’ve
a sum of money deposited in the Savings’ Bank,
which, as it was my own, prior to our marriage,
your father will not be induced to use, but insists
upon my retaining it, and appropriating the in
terest to my own private purse, this is but little,
yet it is sufficient to let us obtain the requisite ma
terials without inconveniencing me, and you may
get the articles this very evening if you desire,
my dear!’
‘Oh, thank you, thank you; I shall be so de
limited, and now I’ve nearlv three months to
work at it, without father finding out, and— ’
here she was interrupted by that parent’s en
trance to his noon-day meal, and all conversation
upon this subject ceased for the time.
In the evening of the same dav, as Mr. Arden
was sitting, apparently engaged in reading, but
in fact despondingly musing upon the future, for
after the many years of constant and unremitting
attention to the duties of his academy, he found
himself but little better off than at his first com
mencement; true! now he could support his fam
ily with respectability, but as he had nothing
stored for a rainy day, melancholy forebodings
preyed upon his mind, lest any unforeseen event
should deprive him of the power of contributing to
their necessities, thus ruminating he did not ob
serve his daughter opening a parcel of drygoods
that she might stealthily exhibit them to her moth
er, but was startled by her sudden exclamation,
‘Bless me ! what’s this? why I declare to gracious,
Pa, if this advertisement don’t refer to you !’ and
eagerly she read the identical one which the widow
of his father had caused months before to appear;
anxiously did Mr. Arden peruse and reperuse
the paragraph, before he could be convinced that
it really had reference to himself, but after re
peated readings he became satisfied that no mis
understand ing existed, and the family now pass
ed several hours in speculations and conjectures,
growing out of a thousand fancies. Agitated as
they were, the parents found but little rest that
night, and did we pause to detail all Caroline’s
dreams about cloaks that turned to mantles of
gold, and the thousand phantasies of imagina
tion induced by sleep, we would require the space
of a volume.
Busy indeed were the inmates of that family
for the next few days in making preparations for
Mr. Arden’s departure, and with double joy did
Caroline forestal her Christmas present by sur
prising her father most gratefully on the threshold
at starting, by throwing over his shoulders her
completed cloak.
Arrived in New York, his native city, to which his
long absence almost constituted him a stranger, our
traveller met his first disappointment by learning
much to his discomfiture that the gentleman to
whom he was referred by his advertisement, was
absent on a visit to Europe and would not return,
it was expected, for a couple of months ; after
many fruitless enquiries, the extent of informa
tion he gained was that the notice in question ap
peared through the means of his late father’s
widow, who he gathered, had removed to Balti
more, and hoping to discover her he directly took
passage for that city, alas ! this was a disastrous
trip indeed, for as he reached his destination
some chance obstruction on the road overturned
the car he occupied, and he was so seriously in
jured by the accident as to be deprived of con
sciousness, and for several weeks of the exercise
of his intellectual faculties. Providentially, he
had made the acquaintanceship of a young gen
tleman with whom he travelled, by accident, dis
covering that each belonged to that noble institu
tion, the Order of Odd Fellows. Pitiful iudeed
might have been the condition of the poor sufferer
had not this friendship been formed,for no sooner
had they reached the city, of which young Albert
Linton was a resident, than with the prompt be
nevolence of the hand with a heart in it, a com
fortable provision was made for the unfortunate
man, by the Order to which he belonged, and ar
rangements to afford him all pecuniary and other
aid necessary.
To be Continued.
A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY,
SAVANNAH, THURSDAY APRIL 5, 1849.
PREMIUMS.
The following premiums will be awarded on the first of May
to the successful competitors.
To the Masonic Lodge having the greatest number of sub
scribers to our paper at that time, ten copies will ba given
gratuitously for one year.
To the Odd Fellows Lodge, the same.
To the Division of the Sons of Temperance, the same.
IGNORANCE OF FRENCH—A NEW EMETIC.
Unable to lay hands upon the “document” we must tall
the below story as best we may—in the absence of the origi
nal rendering.
Some short time since, three jolly flat-boatmen found them
selves, with full pockets arising from the sale of their “ ven
ture,” eager anticipations of sight-seeing, and with most clam
orous stomachs, for the first time in New Orleans. No soon
er was their business satisfactorily adjusted, and their wallets
stored safely away, than “Sam” cries “Now, boys! for
some’at to eat, for darn my buttons, if my stomach don’t be
gin to fancy my throat’s cut; and I guess we can git glorious
grub at someone or other of these eating houses with queer
names, —so let’s mosey !”
“ Hold on, don’t you remember what they say about their
cooking all sorts of things—frogs and such like varments, and
lacing their colfee with brandy, who knows but we may find
ourselves bolting tad-poles for chicken meat.”
“Shut up Dave !” cried Mike, “ that bell-clapper of youra.
What do we care if they do put a stick in the coffee for
those who wish it. 1 dare say we can git it fit for cliristians, —
and as for the outlandish cooking, I believe all that’s stuff—
so let’s travel, for I’ll be dogged, if my in’ards ain’t growling
and grumbling worse nor a menagerie of wild-cats ’fore feed
ing time.”
Hunger was a powerful persuader, for Dave felt as if he
could bite ten-penny nails in two. So pocketing his suspicions
he followed his comrades to the first Restaurant they could
find.
In due time, the trio were comfortably seated, making deep
inroads into their plentiful supply of “ Gumbo,” which, having
seen the waiter serving up to several customers, they had
likewise ordered —
The first keen edge of appetite being blunted, Dave was
eying rather suspiciously the small bones he had picked from
his plate, when several gentlemen entered, and one cried—
“Garcon—cafe ! case pour quartre personnes.”
Our friends started. Dave with face turning rather green
ish, said “Thunder! Boys—did you hear that.”
“ Darn my buttons, if it did’nt sound like ‘ poor cat,’ ”
said Sam.
“ I’ll be dogged if it didn’t!” responded Mike, nervously
regarding his empty plate. “Dave wasn’t such a fool, after
all—l do wouder what this stuff is we’ve been eating ?”
“Vite!—Garyon vite ! Pousse case,” vociferated the
new comer.
Sam dropped his knife. Mike grew as pale as Dave, who
exclaimed—“ There ! Puss coffee ! Oh! murder—murder!
who knows but we’ve been eating lean kitten ! Don’t you
feel it squirming in you. Oh! I’m so sick—ugh—ugh.”
A moment after if you had chanced to he looking at the
back door of the Restaurant, you would have seen three very
sick young gentlemen “casting up accounts ” worse than if
they had dined on emetics ; and “dogging” themselves “darn
ing their buttons ” and their bad luck in getting such hottentot
dishes into them for their first meal instead of a Christian din
ner in New Orleans.
THE CENTRAL RAIL ROAD.
The following abstract of the earnings of this Road for the
past four months is the best evidence that can be adduced of
its management.
1847-8. 1848-9.
December, - - - 37,421 73 67,861 05
January, - - - - 52,291 27 66,629 07
February, - - - 57,786 38 71,364 80
March, - - - - 51,434 38 *75,000 00
$198,933 76 $280,854 92
Shewing an increase of about eighty-two thousand dollar*
in the past touf months, being far beyond the expectations of
its most sanguine friends.
* Approximate—the footing being incomplete.
EARLY VEGETAEILES AND FR UIT\
It affords us pleasure to inform the Friends of the Family
that Okera and Tomatoes, Water Melons, Pine Applet
Bananas, &c.,can be purchased at Mr.DeMartin’s. Speakiog
advisedly on the subject, we pronounce them very fine*