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MY GHOST.
[CONCLVDBO FROM FIRST PAGE.]
“The purchaser—happy man be his dole, ’
I answered, “is a Sir Hercules Lowther. —
A certain person and he were rivals long
a<*o; but what mere mortal man can strive
with a Hercules, particularly when that
Hercules has a handle to his name and fif
teen thousand a year? Really,” I said,
changing my tone, “ I am glad that Miss
Mainwaring is about to make so good a
match. Notwithstanding your antipathy
to her, my dear mother, she was a very
good girl in her way.”
******
I went to Italy, and remained there and
about the coasts of the Mediterranean for a
year. Do what I would, Daisy still haunt
ed my dreams—always the same, sometimes
even to the small ink-stained fingers cramp
ed with long holding of the pen. 1 laughed
savagely about the marriage. This was
woman’s constancy. Not three yearsand she
was married, and to Lowther too, who,
from reminiscences of old days, must con
stantly remind her of me. I confessed now
that I still loved her—confessed it as a pen
ance to myself, pressing it down on my sore
heart like a cauterizing iron, and writhing
under the pain of my own self-contempt.—
Still from week to week I was not sure
that the marriage had taken place. I al
ways hoped that it was not yet consumma
ted. Not to-day, not to-day ; let it be to
morrow. Some six months after I had left
home, there was a sentence in one of my
mother’s letters which settled the matter.
“Your friend, Sir Hercules,” she wrote,
“ was married last week. I have seen the
announcementin this morning’s newspaper.”
Certainty is better than uncertainty ; the fall
of Damocles’ sword is more bearable than
its suspension. I need not narrate here
how by degrees I regained peace of mind—
a peace of mind truer and healthier than
had been my former cynicism. I learned
to look on Daisy’s marriage in its true
light. What right had 1 (dog in the man-'
ger that I was) to dream of monopolizing
her who could not marry me—whom my
kin had injured beyond redemption?—
Without marriage a woman’s life was in
complete in this world. Lowther would
make her a good and loyal husband —better
than 1 should. Lowther had never been
nearly so wild as I had—had never so har
dened and debased his better natnre. I
forgave Daisy — forgave ! Could she have
forgiven me ?
My mother died before I reached Eng
land again. Nevermore could that sad
quarrel be renewed. Now I felt how that
great wrong she had done me, she had done
solely through love. My soul hungered
after love, and turned and gnawed itself in
its desperate cravings. I can understand
how friendless people in their loneliness
gathered dumb animals about them.
1 settled down to my profession, and
worked hard. My miseries passed away,
and the acuteness of my feelings became
numbed under the influence of close study.
Ambition awoke within me. The more 1
succeeded the more 1 wished to succeed :
the further 1 advanced on the road, the lon
ger grew the road before me. Aided by
favorable circumstances, my progress was
faster than usual at the bar. At the age of
thirty-five my practice was large. If ever
1 looked back to that love-dream of my ro
mantic boyhood, it was as upon some
childish toy. 1 smiled as I recollected the
old passion, the soreness of heart, the bit
terness of spirit, the weariness of life. I
scarcely believed it could all have been
true; I wondered at my former self —half
regretted that I was so utterly changed. I
was not sure that I had a heart now. If
that mysterious organ still existed within
me, it slept quietly enough. To have
awakend it for a moment; to have felt the
wild tumultuous struggle, of which I had a
vague remembrance; to have felt even one
twinge of the sharp pain—this would have
been a luxury to me now. My pulse was
steady and regular : the blood-mechanism
beat strongly and calmly in my left side,
my head was cool and clear. I had over
lived the age for that heart-fever. We
came through those diseasess as children
through their childish complaints, and our
moral constitutions were the healthier that
we had passed through them and were rid
of them.
About this time 1 determined to marry.
I was rich, 1 had many friends, but I had
no home; I felt the lack of these domestic
comforts, and that social position which
only marriage can give. This was a very
different feeling to that loneliness which
had weighed me down after my mother’s
death. It was partly in the form of a duty
that 1 entertained this idea of marriage,
partly in the form of a sober, selfish advan
tage. Il was desirable to change my bach
elor life, which was becoming somewhat
wearisome. A mansion in the more civil
ized quarter of the town would be an im
provement on my dusty chambers within
i’emple Bar. 1 felt that it was incumbent
on me to take my stand in that station of
life in which 1 had been called, to do as oth
er men did, to exercise the duties of hospi
tality, to cultivate the household amenities,
to obey the laws of nature and society;
and. if it might be so, to rear children
around me who should succeed to my name
and fortune and fill my place after I was.
tone. So 1 began to look round for a wife. !
fy triends soon learned that 1 was a mar
ry iug-man, and recommendations came toj
my ears ot So-and-so’s sister, and Such-an 1
one s daughter. Mammas smiled on me
with increased favor, and incited their love-;
ly offspring to display for ine their virtues
and accomplishments. Many a faultless
filly, trvm model training-stables, was put,
through her paces for my behoof. Having
decided on the expediency of marrying, 1
had decided too on the necessary qualifica
tions for my wife. Soberly and quietly,
as beeeemed a sensible man, 1 had reason
ed out the whole matter. Moderate beau
ty, a moderate fortune, the conventional.
BAJSHJSM.
accomplishments, a good temper, a good
manner, and perfect good-breeding. Surely
a hundred such girls come from their nur-
series into the marriage-market every year.
Very opposite was this marriage-project
to the foolish engagement of fifteen years
ago. Then, an insane fancy for a child like
myself had nearly hurried me into the mat
rimonial condition, for which both of us
were yet unripe. We were unfitted for
ench other. It would have been a sacrifice
,on both sides. How unsatisfactorily would
Daisy have filled the office which I now
looked for in my wife 1 The woman of my
search was the very antipodes to her. I
was wiser since that time, and now judged
of the holy institution of marriage by the
light of that reason which God had given
me. I saw the wisdom and the expedience
of the condition, and sought to adapt that
condition to my own particular require
ments. Then, an impulsive passion for an
individual had impelled me towards mar
riage; now, having syllogistically proved
the desirableness of marriage, I made de
liberate search for the individual who
should be the fit means to the accomplish
ment of that end. It is by the heart only
that man is misled; let him use his reason,
’ and he is sale.
I had professional business in the North
of England, and I arranged to stay for a
night, on my way, at the seat of a friend
in one of the midland counties. Os course
this friend had a daughter. I went to view
this daughter as I should have gone to look
\ at the points of a horse which 1 thought
might suit me, if I had wanted a horse. 1
had seen Miss Dalton in London, during
' the last season. She had all the requisite
advantages which I have mentioned above;
and to this favored person J, the Grand
Seigneur, felt inclined at length to throw
‘ the handkerchief. 1 would see her at home,
and then make up my mind in the affirma
tive or the negative. On the railway plat-
I form I met an old friend—no other than
Lowther. He was in deep mourning, and
• his black dress, together with the change
which time had worked on him, made me
’ at first uncertain of his identity. Howev
er, in a moment we recognized each other,
shook hands, and took seats in the same
carriage. My heartgave one throb, and slept
again. I had not seen Lowther since his
marriage. He had broadened into a portly
country gentleman, and his stolid counte
nance had gained a gravity which looked
not unlike wisdom. His deep voice had a
majestic roll in it, and his slow speech a
deliberation suggestive of well-weighed
words. I was amused at the form into
which his juvenile stolidity had ripened.—
1 learned from his conversation that his
wife was not long dead. Again the throb
at my heart, and a long, quivering tremor,
ere it subsided to rest. Poor Daisy !
Her girlish figure rose before me vividly
for a moment, and then gradually faded.—
I noted on Lowther’s finger a memorial
ring of brown hair, and round it imprinted
“ Margaret.” Lowther was bound for an
estate of his in the north, not far from my
ultimate destination. He made me prom
ise to come to him for a day before 1 re
turned to London. A meeting with an old
fellow-collegian is always pleasant; the so
ciality of those early days retains its hold
■ upon us through life. Lowther and I, for
this and for other causes, were glad to see
each other, and shook hands heartily and
warmly when we separated.
My reception by the Daltons was kind
ly, and had that domestic charm about it
which is wondrously agreeable to the bach
elor. It is something to be received en fam-
Hie when one has not a home of one’s own.
I liked Amy Dalton better in the old-fash
ioned country-house than in the London
ball-rooms. 1 liked her kindness to the
children when they came down after dinner.
Children can not be bribed or scolded into
acting love where they do not feel love. I
liked the hints which I heard of her house
hold handiness, and of homely duties dili
gently performed by her. I liked her sto
ries about the village folks, showing, not
in the way of exhibition, how she visited
their cottages and read to them. Above
all, I liked her because she did not try to
captivate me, did not parade her accom
, plishments and virtues before me. 1 had
. seen too much of that lately. All these
j little favorable traits were so much thrown
in over and above the essentials in the bar
gain which 1 meditated.
I At night I retired to the library. 1 had
, writing to do, which must be done for to
morrow’s post. I wrote my letters, and
then threw myself into an easy-chair by the
dying fire. Instead of Amy, thoughts of
. Daisy rose within me—thoughts long stifled
and dead. Those summer days came back
—the wanderings in the Landslip, the
sketches, her childish petulance, her wild
' spirits, her fits of melancholy, her foolish
dreams and speculations. 1 remembered
how she used to disappear in the hazel
thickets; how her little head had lain upon
my knees; how at that last parting she had
thrown herself into my arms and passion-
H ately kissed me. Now that she was dead,
it seemed as if her marriage with Lowther
was wiped away. She was mine once more.
The old feelings rushed back in a torrent.
I tried to stem them, but in vain. My heart
awoke from its sleep, and proclaimed its
1 omnipotence ; and my frigid reason shrunk
away before its fiery sceptre.
There was a sound. The handle turned,
and the door creaked and opened. Good
Heaven ! was 1 mad ?
There, in the door-way, stood Daisy—a
• little figure dressed in black, the same thin
face, the same heavy hair. The same tre-
■ ble voice uttered my name. A moment,
land she was gone. 1 rushed forward, and
j there was nothing.
I A lamentable weakness this. My head
was affected. My will came into action,
and beat down the smugglings of my heart,
and strung my nerves with its'iron fingers,
and brought my wild thoughts under con
trol. This, I impressed on my mind, has
been a phantom of my imagination. lam
tired and feverish after my journey, and I
have suffered old thoughts to get the better
of me. I will never let such absurdities
conquer my reason again. I have been a
fool.
I lighted my candle and went to bed. —
Notwithstanding will and reason, there was
a ceaseless whisper within, saying: “It
was no trick of imagination. You have
seen little Daisy to-night, as undeniably as
you ever saw her in old days. Do you not
remember the promise that whoever died
first should come to the other ? ”
******
t Broad sunlight mostly dispels the imag-
> inative lunacies of overnight. I had fever
! ish dreams, in which Daisy and Amy play-
> ed fantastic parts, interchanging their iden
; tity—Amy dead, Daisy alive again—be
. coming inextricably confused in each other,
, until they united and mingled into one
. phantom, which I pursued vainly—a shad
[ owy something after which I yearned with
. a passion unquenchable and hopeless, with
> a mental determination unconquerable as it
. was fruitless. But all these clouds of dark
- ness melted away at once before the cold
light of the morning sun. When I descend
ed to breakfast I was the same calm, rea
t sonable person I had been the day before,
i The vision of the previous night had been a
; dream, like the dreams which succeeded it;
that was certain. I banished the trivial in
j cident from my mind resolutely. Amy’s
: cheerful, fresh, quiet face, as she presided
b at the early breakfast, had a soothing influ
| ence over me, which I accepted as yet an
r other advantage in the meditated bargain.
, When we were married, the constant pres
■ ence of that quiet face would affect benefi
| cially my daily life —make my head clear,
r | keep my nerves cool.
I left the Daltons that morning, and pro
. ceeded on my journey. My business in
. the north was accomplished; and two days
! after, 1 arrived at Sir Hercules Lowther’s,
| just in time to join him at his solitary din
. ner. He was dull and silent; the house
> had a mournful, deserted aspect; the ser
. vants moved about with mute lips and
noiseless feet. All brought Daisy to my
. mind, but this time not so much in connec-!
; tion with my own feelings as in the charac
. ter of my friend’s dead wife. I pitied him
for his loss. As we sat by the fire over
our wine, he began to talk about his wife,
I speaking with a rough, simple pathos of
how good she had been, and what a bless
j ing to him.
I “Poor Daisy !” I said, using the tender
, diminutive involuntarily. “ All you say of
. her is true, I know. You were happy in
.1 marrying her. It is something to have had
I I her to lose.”
“Yes,” he answered, looking at me med
itatively. “ But only those who knew her
can judge of my loss. I feel that you sym
pathize with me, old friend, and thank you
for it; but you did not know her.”
“Not know her? Do you think I have
Jforgotten the old Isle-of-Wight days ? Why,
' Lowther, I too once loved this little Daisy
of yours. I may say so now. You will
. not be jealous of me.”
I “Knew my wife! love my wife!” he
. gasped out, syllable by syllable, with a
[ slow horror and astonishment.
“Yes, you must have known it then,” I
> said. “1 was wild when you married her.
I But all that is past longjago; and, remem
bering what she was, I only feel for you
. the more.”
, “ Loved my wife !” he still muttered, in
. a stolid sort of wonder. “ Loved my wife ?
Daisy ? What! There is a mistake,” he
said, and his face brightened slowly into
intelligence. “There is a mistake. You
surely know whom I married ? ”
“Yes,” I cried, “ certainly I do. Daisy
Mainwarin g.”
“ Never. You are w’rong.”
I stared at him aghast, and pointed to the
ring which he wore. “ Whose hair is that? ”
“My poor wife’s. I married my cousin,
Margaret Lowther; not Daisy Mainwar-
> ing, as you call her. That was a mere
[ boyish fancy. 1 would have married her
> at one time, but she would not marry me;
, and thank heaven for it. My wife only, in
. j all the world, could have made me so hap
| py as I have been.” He sighed, and w<nt
>! on : “ How did you ever come by this false
! notion? Where did you hear it? How
. on earth did it enter your head ?”
By slow degrees I recalled and explained
| how I had heard of his marriage. It was
. not easy for me, having held the event for
| so long as an established fact, to bring to
. my mind the precise manner in which the
f news had reached me. However, I suc
[ ceeded, at length, in recalling the letter
, from my friend, and also the confirming of
> the former tidings in my mother's letter,
[ received in Italy. I learned (but not whol
i ly then) what had been the true state of
[ the ease. When my friend wrote of Low
. ther’s approaching marriage to Daisy, Low
! ther had been willing enough to make that
| assertion true. It was at that time that
. she had refused to marry him; and conse-
, quent upon this refusal seemed to me toj
• have been his marriage with his cousin so
. soon after. Whether in pique, or whether
. in the way of consolation, did not clearly
t appear; but, at all events, the marriage
5 had turned out happily. My mother’s no
; tification to me was substantially true:
Lowther was married at that time.
Daisy, then, was not dead ; but the phan
j tom of that night—how was it to be ex
plained ? I asked for news about her, and
L Low ther told me that he had lost sight of
. her for some time; that after her father’s
death she had gone out as a governess;
that he had offered help to her in vain;
that she was too proud to expect help from
an old lover.
On my way back I called again at the
Dalton’s. As I walked by the side of Am v,
in the wintry garden, I asked abruptly:
“ Have you a governess here?”
“ Yes,” she answered, a little surprised.
; “ What is her name ? ”
“ Miss Mainwaring. Here she is, com
ing with the children.”
* * * * * *
“Shall I go on any more, little wife? —
Shall I tell them how hard 1 found it to
win you back to me? how I, the Grand
Seignieur, did not get my wife by a mere
throwing of the handkerchief, but was ob
liged to go on my knees; obliged to out
rage all foregone conclusions and determi
nations about my matrimonial needs, and
about the proper view and bearings of mat
| rimony ! Shall I tell them of all your
troubles in those long years of separation ?
and how you are changed thereby, and yet
the same ? graver, soberer, wiser- equa
ble and quiet—but Daisy still? ‘No,’ do
you say, ‘ I have written enough ? Then
1 will write no more.”
The Baptist Banner.
FOR 1863.
The proprietors of The Baptist Banner
would inform the reading public, especially
heads of families, that, as an excellent
HOME PAPER,
THE BANNER shall be surpassed by none.
It will be published every Saturday morning
in Atlanta, at the rate of three dollars a y ear
subscriptions taken for any length of time.
The LADIES, the CHILDREN, and the
SOLDIERS IN OUR ARMY, will receive
special attention ; and each number, in addi
tion to a carefully prepared synopsis of reli
gious and secular NEWS, will contain a good
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It will be, emphatically, a FAMILY paper.
The editor’s motto is, ‘ Make Home Happy.'
Those desirous of subscribing will please en
close the amount of their subscription, with the
name and post-office, and address
JAMES N. ELLS & CO.,
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The following brethren will act as Agents
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paid fen- the paper.
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Dr. E. R. Carswell, UaynesZ»oro’, Ga
William Roberts, Byrumville, Ga.
R. H. J ackson, Franklin, Heard Co., Ga.
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DAYTON’S ~
SELECT SCHOOL FOR BIRDS,
AT LAFAYETTE, GA.
Elder A. C. DAYTON President, and Teacher of Chem
istry, Botany, Mental Philosophy, Rhetoric, etc.
Miss LAURA 11. DAYTON, Teacher of the Latin and
Greek Languages, Algebra, Geometry, etc.
Tuition: In the preparatory classes, per term of five
months, ......... $lO 00
In the higher classes, ------ 25 00
Board can be had, in good families, from twenty to
twenty-five dollars per month.
Only a limited number of Pupils will be received, as
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The pupils should bring with them ail the requisite
books, as it is difficult to procure them here,
Lafayette, February 9, 1863.
MERCER UMVEKSITI,
PENFIELD, GREENE COUNTY, GEORGIA.
FACULTY.
President —N. M. Crawford, D. D.
Professors —S. P. Sanford, A. M.,
J. E. Willett, A. M.,
U. W. Wise, A. M.
Theological Seminary.—Professor N.
M. Crawford, D. D.
DEPARTMENTS.
1. A college course of four years, equal to that
of the best colleges in the country.
2. A theological course, of three years, design
ed for those who are preparing lor the Gospel Min
istry.
3. A scientific course of four years, including,
with some additions, all the studies of the collegi
ate course, except the ancient languages.
4. An academical department, embracing all who
are not prepared to enter college.
COMMENCEMENT AND VACATIONS.
The Commencement is held, on the second Wed
nesday in July.
There are two vacations, dividing the year into
two terms.
Fall Term begins on the first Wednesday in Sep
tember, and closes on the 13th of December.
Spring Term begins on the fourth Wednesday in
January, and closes on Commencement day.
8. LANDRUM, Secr’y Bpard Trustees,
July 26,1862. Savannah, Ga
Atlanta Female Institute.
THIS Institution has not been taken for a hospital, as
has been reported, and I have the assurance of the Post
' Surgeon that it will not be taken.
| The exercises will be resumed on the second Monday in
i January, 1863, and continue for a scholastic term ot six
: months.
Under the pressure ot the times, we are compelled to
raise our rates of tuition. The charges, therefore, will be
as follows:
Collegiate department, for six months, - |36 00
Preparatory “ “ •• “ - . go no
: Primary “ >* •* « - - 24 U 0
, Incidentals, - - - - - to
Music, and piano rent, same old prices.
One half of the above charges be paid in adwnct
every instance. J. R. MAYSON, President.
' - SOLTIIEKX PLASTERS!
SHOULD ALL TAKE IT!!
THE SOUTHERN CULTIVATOR—the old pio- 1
neer in Agricultural Improvement —the only
Agricultural Monthly Journal in the Confederate
States that has lived “through the war —is still
published regularly, and will enter upon its 21st (
year on January 1. 1863. Now is the time to sub- (
■ SCKIBE .' One Dollar per year, in advanee!
Address D. REDMOND, Augu-ta, Ga.
AUGUSTA HOTEL,
William Wheelock, Proprietor,
BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
J. 15. Tippin,
Whole«ale and Retail Dealer in Foreign and
Domestic
DRY GOODS,
on Wliitehall Street, ,
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Amoss, Ligon & Co,
W 110 LE SAL E GROCERS
AND ’
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
lor the salb of Produce, Merchandise Real
Estate, Negroes, &c.,
Corner of Whitehall and Mitchell Streets,
ATLANTA, GA.
n. B. A MOSS. D. LIGON. B . H. LEEKE
Robert L<. Crawley & Bio.,
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
(Franklin Building,)
ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
October 1, 1862.
Beach & Root,
IMPORTERS and DEALERS IN
DRY OOODS,
(Whitehall Street,) .
ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
11 3 m
SOUTHERN STATES HOTEI7~
AUGUSTA, GA.
By Thomas & ILiliie.
UNCLE TOM BAKER, CATERER.
We have bought the entire interest of the
ormer proprietor in the Southern States Hotel
and intend to keep a first class house.
W. M. Thomas. Isaac Little.
GLOBE IIOTEIT
BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
Hfnllarky & Gannon, Proprietors.
AUSTIN MULLARKY. JOHN M. GANNON.
Elamilion, IHarkley & Joyner,
DEALERS IN
DRUGS, MEDICINES, DYE-STUFFS,
PAINTS, OILS, ETC.,
Concert Hall building, opposite Georgia R.-R. Bank
ATLANTA, GA. “ 025
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—SIGN OP MILLEDGEVILLE CLOTHING STORE—
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Has a large assortment of READY-MADE CLOTHING
and a large variety of Fancy Articles generally. Oc 25
S. Niles,
Fire an cl Life Insurance
AGENT,
[Corner of Whitehall and Alabama streets,]
ATLANTA, GA. Oct 18
Buglies, Hagan &■ Co.,
Manufacturers of and Dealers in all kinds of
ENVELOPES,
ATLANTA, GA.,
Manufactory on Peach Tree Street.
John Fickeii,
MANUFACTURER OF AND DEALER IN ALL KINDS OF
SEGARS AND TOBACCO,
Snuff, Pipes, Meerschaums, Segar-Cases, Etc.
WHITEHALL ST., ATLANTA, GA.
Oct. 18 3m
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For thesale ot Merchandise, Real Estate, Stocks,
Bonds and Negroes,
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AND
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AND
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Marietta St.,
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Thomas F. Lowe & Co.,
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(exclusively,)
£37” For the sale, of PRODUCE, and all kinds
of MERCHANDISE; Negroes,
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(In Daniels’ Block, Peach-tree st., and Winship’s
corner, ditto,)
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Thomas F. Lowe. Jtssit Lowe, of Lawrenceville.
John C. White. W. Powers.
White & Powers,
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GROCERS,
DEALERS IN
PRODUCE, and FAMILY SUPPLIES,
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Oct. 18 3m
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Advances made on Sugar, Molasses, Wool and
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Texas and Georgia trade. Oct. 11 3m
IL I’. HILL & CO.’S
CONFEDERATE STATES
RA I L - R O A GUDE,
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tions and distances on all the Railroads of the
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principal Hotels; with a large variety of valua
ble information, collected, compiled and ar
ranged by J. C. SWAYZE.
Published by 11. P. Hill & Co,, Griffin, Ga.,
and for sale by all Booksells in the confederacy.
To Advertisers.
Business men who desire a first class adver
tising medium, for the whole Confederacy, will
find such an one in the
“ Confederate States Railroad Guide."
Advertisements will be received at $39 per
page, or fractional parts thereof at the same
rales. Address all orders for advertisements, or
the Book, to H. P. HILL <fc CO., Griffin, Ga.
Liberal commission to the Trade.
Miners and Wood Choppers !
AT’E with to purcii&ie 210 bales of SHUCKS or Fodder,
r r in lots of not less than thirty bales, delivered at any
•"id depot between Atlanta ar d Knoxville; ar d we
with t > hire Uirty WoOD-CHOPIERS end TeaMSIEKS,
either «bit* or black, all tor Saltville. Va, Address
•tatlng prices, etc, A K. baa GO Atlanta, or
8-AGO, KENNEDY, PALMERSTON ACOg
February 14, 1 stS. e L Baltvßle, Va-
