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ijmiDiELL^IMHE^yST”
A STORY OF NEW-YORK,
BY MATTHEW C. FIELD.
chapter r. - *
Not long after the last war with Eng
land, an unpleasant occurrence took place
one evening in the theatre in New York.
Charles Percy, a young American, with
his betrothed bride, Cornelia Neville, and
Stephen Percy, his elder brother, sat in
one of the curtained bores near the stage,
being attracted by the name of a new
star from England, in Shakspeare’s love
ly creation of “ Rosalind.' 1 British offi
cers were still lounging about the city,
on their way either to or from Canada,
or waiting to complete arrangements for
departure by sea to England; and they
haunted the public places with an osten
tatious display of proud bearing, seeking
in this way to wound the vanity of those
they could not conquer in any nobler con
tention. The haughty and insolent spirit
that had marked the conduct o( these
officers during all their intercourse with
the Americans, was about this time be
trayed more unreservedly than ever, and
their bitter chagrin at the result of the war
manifested itself in petty attempts at an
noyance in every way they could devise of
offering it to their successful opponents.
They were disappointed at the termination
of their residence abroad, vexed at the
triumph of American arms, enraged at
the fallen glory of Britannia upon the
high seas, and»pestered with a gnawing
and restless spleen, that rendered their
actions every tiling the opposite of amia
ble. The haughty bearing toward Ame
ricans, fostered during the war as much
by despotic policy as domineering inclina
tion, was a thing too deeply rooted to be
suddenly metamorphosed into more gen
tle demeanor, even by so important a
change in relative position as had then
taken place between them and their late
foes. In short, they were reckless and
without curb ; tho younger officers, espe.
cially, giving full rein to their volatile
humor, and often plunging headlong into
actions that wiser moments they them
selves regretted.
Just after a merry observation of one
of the three friends among themselves,
which had thrown the party into unre
strained laughter, and in which Miss
Seville joined with a frank abandon,
caught from the generous atmosphere of
her father’s seat upon the Hudson, a
young officer, in the livery of the king,
leaned over from the next box, drew aside
the drapery, and stared impudently at the
lady. Miss Neville, without turning her
eyes, was conscious of the rude action,
and with that delicate tact which is an
amiable refinement of the sex, gave no
token of her knowledge. She knew well
the fiery temper of the two brothers, and
imagined she could prevent the observa
tion of what, if seen by them, would inev
itably produce some serious consequence.
She drew their attention instantly to the
stage, and laughed anew heartier
freedom than ever, rattling off jocose re
marks upon costume, gesture, or whate
ver else caught her eye, with a vivacity
as piquant as it was irresistible. The
officer gazed into the box for many mo
ments ; at length letting the drapery fall,
and retiring, as Miss Neville thought,
without having been seen by the Percys.
Poor girl! she neverdreamed that Charles
Percy was going through with as excel
lent a piece of acting as she had herself
performed. It is true she succeeded in.
keeping the attention of Stephen rivetted
upon the passing scene, and apparently
the mind of Charles, also; but the quick
eye of the lover had seen all, while no
clouding of the sunshine upon his brow
betrayed the burning indignation sudden
ly alive within, his heart.
“.Beautiful! beautiful!” said Charles
Percy, “O, how the transcendant elo
quence of that passage; Cornelia, tri
umphs even over the tame and soulless
manner of the actor! The dolt! He
has been dropping gems from his tongue,
and does not know it.”
Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones,and good in every tiung.”
“ How touching aDd how true the
thought! how glowiDg and natural the
form of expression ! how euphonious the
lines!” continued Charles, after repeat-
AUGUSTA WASHINGTONIAN.
v •< 4 ,r 4 ■: . - jwjy -
A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS.
I VoL'UI.]
ing them ; “ and yet how inconceivably
vapid and dull is the actor who stands
before us, the mouth-piece of much music
of the brain!”
“In just suck tones you may hear a
thread-and-needle merchant counting up
his charges,” replied the laughing girl;
“ tape, two-and-six-pence ; just six-and
eight-pence, Madam!”
Charles laughed again, seemingly in
the lightest mood in the world, and quite
innocent of the knowledge that any thing
had taken place, till after trilling in a
gay way a little longer, ho suddenly
seemed to discover something to interest
him in the open lobby opposite. At this
moment boisterous merriment was heard
in the box near them. A burning crim
son flashed and pnssod rapidly over the
face of Charles Percy.
“Stephen, is not that Henry Long
worth, standing near that lobbv-door to
the right asked Charles of his brother.
“Urn? which? O, I see. Yes,that’s
Harry,” replied Stephen.
“If Miss Neville will excuse me, I have
a communication of some importance to
make to him,” said Charles with a calm
smile upon his handsome face.
“Will you oblige, us by going?” said
Stephen Percy ; “ I have a communica
tion myself to make to this fair lady.”
“Pray go, Sir,” said the lady, with
mocking entreaty.
“Go!” repeated Stephen ; “allowme
to solicit you in the imperative mood to
get out!” and rising from bis seat, he
pushed his brother gut of the box. “Go
on# Mr. JaquCs,” said he, sdlnivoce, as he
■ resumed his seat. tPSk
Charles Percy hurried lob
by to his friend. “ Rfrttgworth, come
with me,” exclaimed Qhurles, in an em
phatic .whispe/, snatching the gentleman
he addressed by the arm, and hurrying
toward the box where the rUde strangers
were.
A moment more, and the two young
Americans stood in the alluded to, in
presence of five officers in IsflTish twt ; '
form, who remained seated, Charles Per
cy having calmly closed the door behind
him.
“ A piece of ungentlemanly rudeness
has been committed in this box,” said
Percy, in firm and impressive accents.
The lady in the next box is one to whom
I have the honor of standing in the rela
tion of protector, and —.”
“ ’Pon my soul, rny dear fellotv, I envy
you!” said one of the officers.
“You cannot trifle with me, Sir!” re
turned Percy, quickly, but still calmly,
though a dangerous light shot from his
eye as he spoke.
“ Can’t say we know you, Mister /”
drawled another of the officers.
’ “You shall know me, Sir!” replied
Percy. “Gentlemen,”continued he, “for
I hold you, as officers of the English ar
my, entitled to be so considered, I ask to
he informed who drew the curtains from
that box, and impudently stared for some
moments at a lady with whom he is un
acquainted!”
At this, one of tho officers who had not
before spoken, rose to his feet, exhibiting
in the action evident indications of ex
cessive conviviality. “ Sir,” said he,
“ you may do me the honor to address
yourself to me.”
“ Then, Sir, as my presence cannot be
over agreeable here, and as your conduct
has compelled me to leave pleasanter so
ciety, you may state as briefly as you
please exactly what you meant by de
meanor to which you must understand I
take most positive exception.”
Another officer here rose, and seemed
about to commence some violent out
break, when he who had avowed himself
as the offender; laid his hand sternly on
his friend’s shoulder, and declared in a
thick voice that it was his affair. “ Sir,”
said he to Percy, with all the absurd dig
nity of a tipsy man ; “you are, if I am
not mistaken, a ” He was very
near saying rebel, but stammered an in
stant, and finished the interrogatory with
—“ an American ?”
“ Long live the Union ! and God bless
my country!” said Charles Percy, with
an enthusiasm of tone that he scorned to
restrain.
“ Well, Sir, I must allow that you yet
bear very strong similitude to a gentle
man. As you intimate that you are in a
hurry, and as we can most unanimously
grant you leave of absence, I suppose you
desire my card ?”
“That, or an unequivocal apology, Sir.”
“ The first is most convenient, Mister
American,” said the officer, handing his
card, which Percy immediately took, put-,
AUGUSTA, GA. AUGUST 10, 1844.
ting his own in the Englishman’s hand
at the same moment. “ Good night!”
said the British officer.
Percy and Longworth bowed and left
the box.
CHAPTER IT.
“ There is a manner of forgiving so divine, that vou
are ready to embrace the oilender 10. having called it
forth.’’ — Lavaltr.
The nuptials of Charles Percy and
Cornelia Neville had been agreed upon
with great joy, not only by the destined
bride and groom, but by their two fami
lies, and their whole circle of connections
and friends. The approaching union of
tho young couple seemed to‘present a
broad and manifest contradiction of the
old poet’s assertion, that “the course of
true love never did run sniijhcthfor ne
ver did two hearts twine more fondly and
firmly around each other, and never did
the world seem more free from any sem
blance of obstacle to tho happiness that
true love sighed for. Alas! how blind
are we to the stupendous changes the
turning of an hour glass may weave in
the frail tissue of our destiny! Wonder
ful as the mechanism of the eve, delicate
as tho fabrication of beautiful spots upon
the wing of a butterfly, is the microscopic
multitude of undreamed of events that
move the hearts of men and lire destinies
of nations in the quick passing of a sin
gle moment!
The morning after the incident at the
theatre, related in our first chapter,
Charles Percy was called upon by Col.
Stanford, a young officer in Ilis Majesty’s
service, whose family rank at home and
high repution in the army went hand in
hand to confer upon him honor. He was
f accompanied by two friends, two of those
( who were in the box with him the even
ing before, and hfc held in his hand the
challenge sent to him that morning by
' young Percy. In the frank spirit of a
1 brave soldier, and the graceful case of a
gentleman, Col. Sanford addressed the
challenger:
“Mr. Percy, two ofthe gentlemen who
were wiih me in the tlieatp-msf'owning,
accompany me now. Tho other two
could not conveniently attend me, or I
would have rejoiced that you should sec
them here also, to hear me most sincere
ly declare my regret for the occurrence
of last evening. I will not ask you to
spare me the humiliating confession that
imprudence had rendered me for a time
forgetful of respect for myself and others,
for a man’s shame should he in commit
ting an error and not in its acknowledg
ment. I behaved uncourtcouslv, Sir, to
the annoyance of a lady and yourself.
Through you, permit me to solicit from
that lady her gentle pardon, and let mo
entreat you, Sir, to accord me henceforth
what I so idly forfeited in a foolish mo
ment, the estimation of a gentleman.”
The sunlight of a noble soul rose and
spread.like the loveliest hue of the morn
ing over the classic brow of Charles Per
cy; quick in forgiveness as in anger, he
stepped forward, extending his hand to
Stanford.
And did the cloud here vanish from the
ethereal blue, which threatened to lower
so darkly over the long holiday life that
rosy Love seemed preparing for Charles
and Cornelia ? Was such the lofty spirit
actuating British officers in revolutionary
times? Alas! the cloud did but fade
away thinly, to gather again with light
ning in its breast of darkness, and hurl
more fatally its bolt of wild destruction.
One superior soul will more often cast
glory upon others of meanor mould
around, than those others will honorably
emulate the excellence that lights them
into notice. The story will show.
“A moment, Sir, before you give your
hand,” said Col. Stanford. “It may
matter little, but I feel a desire to be open
as the day with you, and therefore am
impelled to explain, that my brother offi
cers do not sanction the course that, in
opposition to their sentiments, I have
adopted in this affair. Two of them, in
fact, have refused to be present here at
all, and the gentlemen with me attend
reluctantly at my earnest request. You
will believe, Sir, that nothing but an im
movable conviction of justice and propri
ety in what I do, could induce me to act
so directly against the wishes of uiy com
panions in arms.”
“Col. Stanford,” said Percy, “Ihave
no quarrel, and I seek none with your
friends. Your brave and honorable con
duct has made me rather a petitioner for
regard than a' seeker after redress, and I
can rejoice more in taking your hand as
a friend than your life as an offender.
Furthermore, Sir, let me avow that in i
soliciting a deadly meeting with you, I
yielded only to the exaction of a custom
which in heart and reason I can never
acknowledge.”
The hand of tho young American was
seized by the English officer, and the
pledge of friendship was exchanged with
equal warmth ; soon after which the in
terview terminated; Stanford departing
with his two friends, who bowed stiffly to
Percy as they left, without having utter
ed a syllable.
Six months had nearly rolled away, and
the appointed bridal day of Percy and
Miss Neville was approaching, when one
day a letter, post marked “Montreal,”
and directed to “Charles Percy,” was
put into his hands. It was from Stan
ford ; demanding, entreating, imploring,
that the fatal meeting they once avoided
should now take place ! Let those who
can, imagine the wonder, horror, and
consternation of Charles Percy! Stan
ford wrote that he was preparing to follow
• his letter instantly to New York. His
life had been rendered wretched, he said;
he had been slighted, cut, contemptuously
treated, by his brother officers: society
shunned him like a thing of disease. A
brand was upon him ; the finger of scorn
pointed after him ; and the shallow fop
lings of the day stared through their eye
glasses at the cowardly officer who lind
disgraced the British uniform, and basely
apologised to an American ! a miserable
Yankeo rebel! Even his family in Eng
land had in correspondence betrayed too
plainly, what in pity those once kind ones
endeavored awkwardly to conceal, their
cruel and blood freezing estrangement.
Stanford wrote in phrenzy. Explanation
or argument with his sneering persecu
tors was in vain, for they would either
not listen to him, or hear him with a cold
look and notfeply. Ho confessed that
he trembled for his sanity, yet half felt
that loss of reason would be relief from
present horror of mind. Growing wilder,
he owned that all his miseries clamored
now around ono haunting idea; ho had
TOffricnilst; toumrr, home, regtu iVaffit
tion; he was despised, spurned, down
trodden ; a solitary wretch, who could not
raise his eyes without meeting contempt
from the proud and more degrading pity
from the mean; and tho young New
Yorker,Charles Percy, was the cause!
Col. Stanford had left New York tho
day after his noble reconciliation with
Percy, and had remained in Canada dur
ing the whole of this interim. Three
days after his letter had been received,
he arrived himself'in New York; and in
stantly despatched a cold and formal
challenge to the man for whom his heart
yearned, and whom society sentenced
him to hunt into the grave as his bitterest
enemy ! Percy received the hostile mes
sage, and went at once to see his chal
lenger in person. He thought the calm
influence of humanity and reason, and
the teachingofn higher philosophy, might
be brought to benr upon the excited mind
of poor Stanford; but his generous at
tempt was fruitless. Stanford would not
see him. lie wrote to the unhappy offi
cer ; his letters came back unopened.
Every conceivable method was tried by
Percy to change the aspect of this extra
ordinary position in wnich Stanford had
forced him, until finding every thing else
fail, ho at length flatly refused the chal
lenge. It was soon clear that this would
not avert the danger, for Stanford threat
ened desperate vengeance in some way
if he was not met in the manner he desir
ed, swearing that as life was only agony
to him without it, his life should be devo
ted to the achievement of his only object,
„md he would pursue Percy unceasingly
until the opposition of their persons in
fair conflict was granted.
So persecuted, Charles Percy at length,
reluctantly and with a heavy heart, con
sented to yield the unhappy man his
wish, and they met one morning, accom
panied by their seconds, among the
voiceless and then seldom trodden soli
tudes of Hoboken. It was the first time ,
Percy had seen Stanford since their re
conciliation. Heavens! what a change!
His fine form had dwindled to a skeleton ;
his cheeks had fallen in, and his eyes
glared wildly and with singular lustre
from their deep sockets. With a sick
sensation at the heart, Percy saw at a t
glance that such a man was no loDger to (
be moved by words of expostulation.
Onceonly, catching the stern and strange ,
gaze of Stanford upon him, he advanced j
a step, making an imploring gesture, but
the half crazed British officer smiled as s
he turned away, and the sport ofa trium- a
phant devil was in his smile. i
Beneath the serenity of early day, the i
[No. 4. (
7.. ;
IWASHINGTOXIAI*
TOTAI ABSTINENCE PLEDGE.
j Ws, whose names are hereunto an
! nexed, desirous of forming a Society for
I our mutual benefit, and to guard, against
1a pernicious practice, which is injurious
to our health, standing and families do
pledge ourselves as Gentleme#, not to
drink any Spirituous or Malt I.iqucrs ,
fFinc or Cidsr. *
usual preparations for human slaughter
in an honorable way, according to the
newest refinements of the fashion, went
on, and Percy took his position mechani
cally, with his melancholy eye fixed upon
Stanford, all in sorrow and pity, and with
a suddenly formed presentiment of evil
sinking deeply and heavily in his heart.
It would seem that he had never wholly
given up the hope of some mild termina
tion to the most unhappy affair, until lie
met Stanford on the ground, marked the
terrible ravages of mental anguish, and
saw the freezing character of his unnatu*
ral smile. He had still refused and de
layed the meeting until the very day be
fore that appointed for his marriage,
when reflection in regard to Stanford
came upon him more seriously than ever,
and he flew lrom racking thoughts to the
hasty resolution of accepting at once the
challenge, that an end might be put in
any way to so dreadful a dilemma; rather
than carry with him the serpent of bitter
anxiety into the paradise of Cornelia’s
arms.
The preliminaries being arranged, the
seconds stepped aside, and the usual
words were spoken. Percy never raised
his weapon, but stood mutely, with that
same sorrowful, and as it proved, prophe*
tic gaze fixed upon the ghastly face of hie
trar.formed friend, until a dozen echoew
answered the report of a pistol, and he
fell with the ice bolt of death in his heart,
to be carried home on his bridal day a
corpse!
Shall we paint here the shrieking Cor
nelia, in her summer wreaths and wed
ding robes? No. We will only pause
to mention the terrible oath of Stephen
Percy. He had heard that Stanford was
driven to this unjust and > desperate act
chiefly by the violent urging of one man
in Canada; an officer, who with relent
less cruelty insisted upon the blood of
young Percy. Stephen knelt by his
brother’s corpse, solemnly forgave the
madman Stanford, and sternly swere that
+f over he met this other officer, to render
him up a bleeding sacrifice upon the
grave of Charles.
Poor Stanford ! Percy died without a
groan; but oh ! how wild and desolate
the late left for hie demrnted murderer.
Let us hurry over eighteen months, and
learn the startling sequel of this story.
COJfCLUSIOX.
“ Dead, for my life,
I'.run co ; lay tale is told."— Love's Labor Lost.
“ Percy, I’in sorry you’re come,” ex
claimed Lester Depeyster, a wealthy lon
vivant, to Stephen Percy, as the latter
entered one evening the principal apart
ment of a hotel in ancient Gotham. It
was late in the evening, and Depeyster
sat at the head of a dining table, upon
which now appeared only decanters and
bottles of wine, glasses, and such accom
paniments as are usually left with gue3ts
disposed for a long sitting after dinner.
It had been a birth-day or some other
festival, with Lester Depeyster, and the
dinner had been of his giving. A num
ber of his congenial friends had been in
vited, and Stephen Percy was among
them. Other engagements had prevent
ed the attendance of Percy in time for
dinner, and he but sought the hotel in the
evening to tender congratulations to his
companion from boyhood, on the happi
ness of the occasion, and in a glass of
generous wine, invoke a long continu
ance of friendship, prosperity and enjoy
ment. Some of the guests had already
taken their departure, while some of those
remaining began to give warm evidence
of having done full honor to the hospital
ity of their host. Several young men
were disputing loudly and earnestly at
the lower end of the table, with one who
was arguing and jnaintaining his point
alone, with great spirit and determina
tion. The hour of ceremony was past,
and Percy, without engaging much at
tention, passsed in with a general bow
to the company to a seat beside Depey
ster.
“ You are sorry I’m come ?” said Ste
phen, in a tone expressing at once aston
ishment and inquiry; “did I misunder
stand you V’
“No, no;” replied Dcpyster; “that’s
what I said ; I am very sorry you’re
come; but no matter; you’re hero now.
Come, let me fill for you.”
“ The wine will hardly taste well with
out an explanation of that,” said Porcy,
in a marked and deliberate manner.
“ Not now, not now,” returned Depey
ster, “but come it is perhaps no matter;
now I cannot explain ; any other iiifie I
will. Stephen Percy, here’s ‘Privateers
and Merchantmen in the Battery-hollow.’