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VOLUME I
s EL 1 S Iflf .
THE REBUKE.
BY CHARLES SWAIN.
Oli! speak to mo no more—ho more—
Nor cast your sighs away ;
j'or what, you think is to adore,
1 feel 1s to betray.
Your words —your vows—in vain would hide
The truth which I divine,
If wedding me would hurt your pride,
Ttieu wooing me hurts mine.
Oh ! no’er commit so great a fault.
Nor wrong the vows you’ve made,
For what you say is to exalt,
1 feel is to degrade !
To make me yours while life endures, 1
Must be at God’s own shrine ;
If such a bride would hurt your pride,
Thco such a love hurts mine.
JOHN ALCOHOL MY JO.
John Alcohol, my Joe John,
When we were first acquaint
I’d money in fny pockets, John,
Which iknv I know there ain’t.
I spent it all in treating, John,
Because I loved you so,
But mark me how you’ve treated me,
John Alcohol. 1113* Joe.
John Alcohol, my Joe John,
We’ve been too long together,
So you must take one road, Johu.
And I will take the other;
For we may tumble down John,
If hand in hand we go,
Aod I will have the bill to foot,
John Alcohol, my Joe.
0a 1 §ika& tail.
r~
For A Friend of the Family.
LOST AND WON.
BY MISS SUSAN A. STUART.
CHAP. 111.
,l A letter from my sister Ellen, Mary,” said
Mr. Eccleston, a week or so later, “ she writes in
very iow spirits and desires, most anxiously, that
one of the girls should pay her a visit this winter.
Poor thing, she has lost her only’ child, and she
wants someone for company. Shall \ irginia or
Ada go ? ” :
“Who, I papa?” said Virge, “lou must
really excuse me. I cannot bear the idea of be
in” mewed up in the country and in November
too; let Ada go, she has nothing to keep her in
the city.”
“And what, I pray Miss Virginia, have you of
so much importance that you cannot pay a visit
to one who truly wants company ? ‘*
Mr. Eccleston, 1 wish you would not speak to
\irge in that way, she has a great deal to detain
her in the city at this time ; probably her very
settlement fur life depends on tins winter 4 for i
have never seen so many men really worth a
girl’s setting her cap for, collected at one time to
gether. There’s that rich Elderbey, Pete you
didn’t know perhaps, that A irge has made quite
an impression on him, did you ? ”
No, I never know anything of yours or \ ir
ginia’s affairs, hut it seems to me that either you
or her change too often in your plans to succeed.
I suppose this one must indeed be worthy of se
curing, for I have heard you talking of him for
hvo or three weeks.”
“If you did not spend so much of your time
over your inusiv otoi papers and with them hor
riddogs, you would learn that Eugene Elderbey
tsconsidered by far the best match in the city.—
He lives somewhere in the country, and Mrs. Lit
tletons, where we first were introduced to him,
told me his house was a real old castle for every
thing grand and noble, aud that the silver and
china alone were a small fortune ; moreover, he
! s so popular with the people, that it is supposed
.c “ill he rqn for Congress the next year. Now
,iL * ,e worth catching ? ”
but of what avail will be the old castle &c.,
for Virginia, to use her own words, hates being
mewed up in the country.”
‘‘°h,then it would be entirely different papa ;
besides, if 1 marry him I would always have plenty
0 co (opany when at home, and as he is so
wealthy no doubt I should go ‘more into society,
than I do now.”
fhen he would be obliged to have the days,
arul lhe nights too made longer, for every moment
} awake now you devote to that same
J lln g called society. But to return to Ellen’s
el | i er ’ w hich of thegirls shall go Mary ? ”
Ada, of course,” said she, ‘‘ for A irge has
many beautiful dresses that would be quite
. r()Vv n away in the country, and as Ada lias but
f^ v new things made up\ it will be a save too,
will make the last winter ones do.
Well, rny daughter,” said Mr. Eccleston to
, a ’ w ho just entered the breakfast room, being
v 1 ler a fate riser, “ What sav you to a visit to
‘° u raunt Ellen for the winter? ”
“I shall be delighted to go papa. Have you
heard from her ? ”
“Yes, here is the letter, read it, and you will
see how much she needs society. I will make
arrangements for you to go at once, at least in a
clay or so.”
Ada read the letter whilst at breakfast, and
Virge and her mether went on with their conver
sation without giving any more thought to the
proposed visit.”
“Mamma I would like that beautiful silk I
saw at Bennet’s, and as you say Ada will not re
quire so much could’nt you get it for me ? ”
“ Oh, Nirgc you are really too extravagant. —
lou have already three new ones this winter, and
Ada, your father will insist on her celling some
thing.”
“ Psha ! mamma, I want that one. lam very
sorry it was not purchased instead of that French
Grey. Let Ada. take my blue and brown cash
mere, and then you can get me that silk. Will
you Ada ? It is is a3...g00d as new, and you can
carry my guitar with you to aunt Ellen’s also, if
you will.”
“les, I don’t care, but mamma must have it
altered at once forme as I am so anxious to go to
dear aunty. She writes so sadly. You need not
laugh Virge, I do love to go to her, she has a nice
old house, plenty of books, and a gentle pony
on which I can take many a delightful gallop.”
“ Well I hope you may enjoy it. As for my
self the balls, theatres, &c., are my prospect. —
l should die outright in a week at Chesnut Grove.
Aunt is to my taste so very mopy.”
“ She is very like your father in disposition,”
said Mrs. Eccleston, “but dear me, Virge ’tis
after ten, you bad better change your double
wrapper now, for probably someone will call
ibis fine da\.”
• Ada set out for the country with her father, and I
arrived at her aunt’s after a journey of three
days. It was, as she said, a nice old house, built
in the antique style, with its deeply embayed 1
windows, and lofty ceilings. She was a widow
of rather a. melancholy temperament, but an es
timable lady and truly pious. Her style of living :
too was very good, and though sne saw out mile
company yet those whom one met there, were
everv way worthy of being lemembered and es
teemed. Tenderly attached to Ada, she was de
lighted to have her, and as her brother also in- 1
tended spending a week before returning to the
city, her spirits became- quite enlivened. We
will leave them in the country, Ada to the quiet
happiness which gave bloom and elasticity to her
cheeks and spirits, to her books, her music, her
pony, and return to A irge, and her conquests,
her excitements, whether of balls, theatre’s and
of dress.
Constantly did Mr. Elderbey visit Miss Eccles
ton, and such was the might y spell of her beauty,
joined to her own and her mother’s tact, that no
suspicion bad as yet arisen to make him doubt
her perfectioiVas regarded temper and mind.—
And the hopes too of Virge and her mother of
their ultimate success were fast verging on to cer
tainties, for everywhere did he accompany them,
and already among their circle was his name
joined to that of Virge Eccleston as engaged.
One morning Elderbey had gone into the office
of a friend to see him before calling on his lady
love, as we* may now call her. He found his
friend however, engaged with a client, so lie
strolled to t lie door and stood there observing with
quiet humor the groups around the pumps imme
diately in front of the door, where the black
beaux and belles were flirting and chatting. His
own name caught his ear and he listened to a
conversation between a negro woman with a tub
on her bead, and another who was leaning against
the porch under him,
“ So your young mistress io to many tlmt rich
Mr. Elderbey, I suppose you’ll have grand do
in"3 at your house soon.”
I believe so child. 1 hear the Madam talking
about it, and that Miss Virge must have this and
Miss Virge must have that. MissA irge, she says
he is powerful rich, and she will have eveiything
in big stvie. He'll get a pretty wife sure ’nut,
but if lie took mv say, he’d a fell in love with Miss
Addy, who’s a long sight better, for Miss Virge
is just zactly like her mother as two peas, aud
you knows Nancy, her temper is bad enough to
kill a horse,
“ She has abominable temper, for true, cme
hollers out at me just like common folks, and
I’ve heard your master sees times.”
“True, child, just as true as the gospel scrip
ture. He has a bad time of it, him and the dogs,
and Miss Addy too, when she was home, Miss
Virore blazes out every now and then on her sister,
, if i\ gentleman only but looks arter her or ll her
father gives her anything new. AY hen that same
1 Mr. Elderbey fust come to see Miss A irge,he only
r just axed Miss Addy to play on the planner, w hen
1 lo and behold, the moment, he was gone, Miss
Virge flares out at her sister with all sorts of
SAVANNAH, GA.. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2D, 1840.
; abuse and cried and took on migbtly. Aou see,
child, she was so mad that her sister could play
the planner and she can’t, and then ihe Madam
too tells more lies about her than I would do this
minute, black as I is, and pets her up to every
thing, and snubs her other child—the more shame
for her. But good-bye child, I can’t stand
talking any longer; my dinner aint on yet. Tell
Sam when you sees him, to he sure to come round
to onr house Sunday, i’ye got something to tell
him.”
It was wonderful, what uneasy feelings this
negro gossip roused in the breact of EldovUoy.
All the hints he had received from Linton seemed
co rro be rated by it. He determined to ask Linton
seriously; and stop in his attentions whilst there
was yet time for it there was one thing on earth
he had a dread of, it was a woman with a bad
temper, and with no sense to manage it.
He set out at once for Linton’s Hotel. His
friend answered him with candor.
“ I am glad, Elderbey, you are not too much in
love to hear reason, as I was fearful you might he
so I will tell you from my own experience, and
from good authority what I know’ of ATrge Ec
cleston. She is a beauty no doubt, and is pos
sessed of sufficient mother wit , to hide her defi
ciences, hut her education is only for the world,
and she cannot for her life, support what you or
1 call a conversation. Like yourself when I first
became acquainted with her, I was fascinated
with her, and ascribed her monosyllibic replies
to diffidence, and if 1 must confess it, vanity whis
pered lo me that she acquiesced in all my remarks
from a congeniality of sentiment, and because
she liked me, and whatever I thought that thought
she also—have not you felt this too Eklerby, for
her manner and looks lead one ever to draw this
inference. But I heard, about that lime, from
two cousins of mine, good girls they are too, that
she was a downright dunce as related to original
ideas, for they were school mates, and that A'irge
did not care for books or anything in that way,
nit her sole ambition was to he pretty, to wear
.i:r gloves and bonnet, and to sit out of the glare
so as not lo injure her compleetion. And the
worst'd! an, tney roia me sue naa a areaaiui tem-
Der, in fact, completely spoiled by her weak
minded worldly mother, and 1 soon found it to
>e the ultimathule of her ambition to to he
a belie, and finally to make a good marriage
l hope3*ou are sufficiently heart hole to hear this
without a pang, for ’tis true as holy writ.”
“lam grieved, 1 must own,” returned Elder
bey, “ for I w’as enchanted with her beauty. But
it is better to find this out from any one else’s ex
perience than from my own, and as I think “ dis
cretion the better part of valor” I shall quit for
my country residence for a season, or at least
until I can look upon the beautiful Miss Eccles
ton without any wish to call her mine. Will you
make rny adieux Linton, and my excuses until
mv return to the city, for wilhout any equivoca
tion, my affairs, require my presence, and that
speedily for my overseer is quite sick.
“ AViih pleasure, and report if }*ou wish it.—
But when do you leave ? ”
“ This evening. Can’t you cotnc to me, at
christmas? 1 have no inducement to offer except
my company, as I don’t believe there is a young
lady within ten miles.
“I cannot promise now r , perhaps I may take
von on surprise. AVhat! going now ! ” as El
derbey arose to leave.
“ Yes, I must say, “ good bye ” and God bless
7 ? O •’ r • 1
you, my good fellow', for awhile. AV rite me the
news, and come if you can.”
And that evening he left for the country.
CHAP IV.
“ Lo nil tlio elements of love are liere —
The burning blush, the smile, the sigh, the tear.”
Bailey's Feslus.
“ I have had a visitor this morning Ada,” said
Mrs. Hunter, on Ada’s return from her ride,
which she took every fine day, “ I have not seen
him,for three years. His mother and my hus
band were somewhat connected, and he has al
wuiys been very intimate here. I told him I had
a young neice staying w ; ith me, and invited him to
call over often. I did not call your name 1 recol
lect, but mentioned you as my neice.”
“ I have more curiosity perhaps than the visi
tor aunt, for rny first question is, AY‘hat is his
name ? ”
“ Eugene Elderbey. He lives in that large
house after you pass the cross-roads. Tis a
beautiful place, and l would like you to see it
much. By-the-bve be is single yet, and being an
especial favorite 1 think I must speak a good woid
for him to you.”
“ I have seen him aunt Ellen at home, and I be
lieve Virge lays claim to him. But why has he
left the city so suddenly ? I thought he proposed
spending the winter there.”
“ I do not know dear, for I did not hear him
even speak of the city at all ; but his conversa-
lion, though very interesting, related only to his
European tour, and c hats about old times. He
loves music toa passion, and 1 told him my noire
played, and he promised to come over often 10
hear you play.”
“Humph! I think he had better buy himself
a hand organ, arid grind his own tunes, that would
save him a ride of five or six miles. Is’nt it that
far?”
“ Yes, but } T ou must not feel piqued at his say
ing be would come for the music instead of ad
miring you, for he does know what a chatty liilie
hrwly ynn nrp 11
Ada ran off to change her riding habit, and to
get her work. So the morning visitor was forgotten
or untalked of at least.
About a week later she was standing, looking
from the window,when Mr.Elderbey arrived. He
appeared embarrassed at first, but after some time
it wore off; and Ada began to like him and his
conversation extremely. So she played, and sung
for him all bis favorites. On his rising to take
leave, after a visit of three hours, Mrs. Hunter
would not hear of his leaving before dinner, arid
after that the torrent of rain that was falling fits-t
and heavy obliged him to accept her hospitable
invitation for the night. It turned out too, to he
what is termed a “dreadful spell” of weather;
and we will not say how much against his w ill or
Ada’s inclination it was borne for three days, but
they at least, appeared to submit themselves with
Christian resignation to the elements. When at
length he look leave, he promised Mrs. Hunter
to bring over very soon some curiosities he had
collected for her.
Are you surprised to hear, reader, that every
two or three days, Mrs. Hunter received a visit
from her husband’s old friend, bringing something
for her or Ada; or are you disposed to criticise
over his quick transfer of affection when you be
gan to surmise how the “ cal jumps.” Know you
not many a heart is caught in a rebound? And
Ada—
“ Why did she love him ? Curious one be still!
Is human love the growth of human will?”
Suffice it to say, she did begin to feel an affection
trr him, and was pleased when, at last, he came
without a shadow of an excuse, hut rode over on
Lara, everyday to accompany her on her excur
sions for air and exercise.
And certainly air and exercise was very bene
ficial to Ada’s health ; for one morning or rather
noon, Mrs. Hunter unobservant, as she generally
was of such things, found that Ada’s cheeks were
most beautifully crimsoned, and her eye and lip
sparkling with health and happiness, after her
return, which she of course ascribed to the ride*
And yet after that the old lady began to think it
was probably too much for her niece’s nerves,
for she found her unaccountably absent, and when
reminded, would blush, and look so diffident and
timid as made even Mr.Elderby proffer a thousand
little services in the goodness of his heart, as the
old lady thought, to set the blushing girl at her ease.
Her view of the case, however, altered, when
Ada told her at night, that she had promised Eu
gene Elderby to become his wife with her parents’
consent.
chap. v.
“ The best laid plans of men and mice
Gang oft nglice.”
“Rather a surprise for you, Virginia and your
mother,” said Mr. Eceleston, as he entered the
same drawing room, and where Virge watery
busy with her croghet work, and her mother with
a novel. “ Yes, l think even you will acknowedge
’tis a great surprise, and wish you had gone into
the country instead of Ada, when you hear my
news.” “No I think not,” said Virge, “ 1 sup
pose Aunt Ellen has made her will, being tnojjed
to death in the country, and left all to Ada.”
“ No, you are out there,” said her father,
“ ’Tis not a question of death at all hut of mar
riage. You will have to guess again.”
By this time the novel was closed, and the
purse hung suspended from the fair -fingers, as
•Y T irge repeated :
“ Marriage ! why surely aunt Ellen is not lo
he married ? ”
“ No,” said he quietly, “she has tried it once.
As I am afraid you will not be able to guess a tail,
I must tell you it is Ada’s self.”
“ Ada ! ” echoed Mrs. Eceleston and Virge in
tones of strong surprise, “ Why for mercy’s sake
Mr. Eceleston what clown has the child picked
up ? ”
“ Eugene Elderbey,” said he, “is what is
signed to the letter, which appears tome, if a let
ter can speak a character, to be the name of a
generous, intelligent and noble man ; one who
certainly seems to love my little Ada as much as
1 can wish.”
“ Eugene Elderbey ! ” almost screamed his
wife, “ whv he loves Virge and will be back as
soon as his business is finished, 1 know that you
are telling this to annoy us.”
&
NUMBER 39.