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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY I JAMES McCAFFERTY, ■ ACIWTOSB-3TEEET, OPPOSITE POST OFFICE. Terms of Paper. —For a single copy, one year, Two Dollars : for sircopies, Ten Dollars; for thirteen copies, Twen ty Dollars, payable in advance. Advertisements will be inserted at 50 cents per square for the first insertion, and 25 cents for each continuance— Twelve lines toconstitute a square. A liberal deduction to yearly advertisers. YjT No letters taken from the Post Office unless postage free. Officers Augusta W. T. A Society. Dr. DANIEL HOOK, President. Rev. WM. J. HARD, J “ C. S. DOD. V Vice Presidents HAWKINS HOFF, Esq. ) WM. HAINES, Jr. Secretary. L. D. LALLERSTEDT, Treasurer. Tm @©l L uwiSysT" For the Washingtoniaa. FILIAL DEV^Hpp|r: The Record BY JOHN FRANC MARKET. I know not—l care not if guilt’s in that heart; I but know that I love thee whatever thou art. Moore. Whatevevcr sky’s above mo, Here’s a heart for every fate. Byron- I. Woman’s love! the only gift preserv cd unsullied when the first of her race fell. It burneth now upon the altar of her heart’s sacred shrine, with light as pure and holy, as when the weeping Eve turned to take a lingering, farewell look of the bright elysium from which she had been banished—where in her happier hours, her bosom had first felt the sacred impulse which entwined it a round that of her noble companion.— Ah, me! how often have L thought of the feelings which must have thrilled in the bosom of the parent-mother, when the thunders of incensed Omnipotence were muttering over her head ; and the cherub flashing his flaming sword, bade her depart from her happy Eden—when she clung upon the arm of Adam and looking up into his troubled face, seemed to say, without uttering a word: “ Let all forsake thee, even thy God, yet will Eve’s love burn brighter when all else is gone.” Ah! woman’s heart, when unwarped by sordid trainings, or remod elled by the frigid rules of etiquette— when ripened by natural, uneducated feeling, is a gem which the wealthiest might crave—the happiest might sigh af ter. The sweetest odor I ever inhaled, was from the fragrance of a rose which I gathered on a mountain side, in a for eign land—growing all lonely and un noticed; and though the time is long past since its pliant stem yielded to my touch, yet I remember to have thought how much like that rose were many who moved through life humbly and modest ly, shedding the balm of kindly feeling around them—doing deeds of philanthro py and nobleness—rivalling even the god-like actions of the noble Howard— yet whose names never reach the ears of Fame ! Ah ! it is not the festive halls, where rich music is breathing a spell-like enchantment —where wealth and fashion crowd to display their gewgaws and rib bons, and careless/hearts are winding in the maze of the lascivious waltz—that the noblest women are oftenest found. No ; seek them in the lowly cottage a mong nature’s children. How often have I felt the sneer quivering on my lip when standing amid the festive throng, to hear some creature of tinsel and lace, who plumed herself on being a lady, launch a venomed word to rankle in the bosom of another, in order to win the hollow laugh of those unfeeling as herself. Ah! I would sooner be the idolized of one kind heart, albeit that heart throbbed in a lowly cottage, than to have the craven hearted praises of an admiring world. 11. It was night in the metropolis of Ma ryland, and in the parlor of a fine man sion, a man was pacing the carpeted floor with a measured step —his arms were folded on his breast, and his knit ted brow and compressed lip gave uner ring signs of a bosom intensely agitated. One might have thought, to have gazed on that man, that ho was another Caesar with the cares of a troubled state hang ing on his brow, so dark did his mind seem. Alas! he was a less noble being than Cesar; he was one who had not philosophy enough to profit by the expc- AUGUSTAWASHINGTONIAN. ;A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS. |Vol. Hl.] rience of the myriads who, after pursu ing the phantom with untiring steps, have given the result of their labors by telling us that happiness is apportioned to every condition of life. He was one who sighed to be wealthy that he might mingle and vie in ostentation with the monied exclusives, who abound in every city and village of our country, “ from Dan to Beersheba.” Reclining on a fine sofa, lay a beautiful woman who was in the zenith of her prime. I might term her lovely, for her beauty was not of that cast which dazzles the beholder with its splendor, but there was a look of goodness and kindly feeling which irresistably captivated the heart—for eve ry thing of honor, of virtue and worth seemed to beam from her mild eyes, and now as she lay thoughtfully gazing on the person who moved to and fro before her, a habitual smile played around her slightly parted lip, which breathed an index to her soul. “ Life is but a dream at best,” murmurmured the man, inaudi bly; “and it is in the power of the dreamer to make it a dark or a bright one; nature has scattered her rich gifts around me, why should I not enjoy them ? Life to me is little better now than to the convict shut out from the world, who finishes one day’s toil only that he may begin another. I breathe, as it were, in an under stratum of social atmosphere; without the power of rising ' where the air is purer, except by patient toil and confinement, by which I will exhaust the very energy of my best days and loose the power of enjoying wealth after I possess it, out upon such living! The moralist may preach his lengthy homilies about honesty and rec titude, while I will smile at the fools who practice them. I shall be rich, and as the Macedonian said when he unloosed the knot of Gordia with his sword, —the shortest way is the best.” “ Clifton,” said the lady, “ you seem dejected to night, and I have been listening in vain to hear what were the tenor of your thoughts; were I to judge from gazing on your brow, it would seem that an in cubus had settled on your mind. Ah! Clifton,” said she, rising from her re cumbent position, and twining her arm around his neck as she moved by his side, “ there was a time when your slightest thought was mine, why do you conceal your cares from me now? if your mind is oppressed, share it with me, two will bear the burden better than one; or if it is of such a nature that I can bear no part of it, I may pour a balm to heal the wound. Ah! Clifton, if you knew how it pains me to see you per plexed, you would have no scruple to let me aid you.” And the lady looked into his eyes with such a smile of affec tion and kindness, that it melted the harshness of ( Jiis feelings and softened the roughlines on his brow. “ Laida,” said Clifton, “my soul is dark to-night, and that darkness ha 3 been gathering in my bosom many days. You know when I sought your hand in marriage, we were in stinted circumstances; it has been my aim ever since to amass a fortune which would give us a higli position; that is my ambition. The present situ ation I hold as cashier in the banking house yields me an income sufficient to defray all household expenses, provided we were to be very economical; but you know I despise parsimony—l hate the term economy—and the consequence is, that lam deeply involved in debt. We have a daughter who is the apple of mine eye, and unless I can devise some means to extricate myself from this diffi culty, I cannot place her in such a social position as I would desire she should oc cupy —a position where none could look down upon her; as it is, she may marry some petty merchant or travelling ped lar, or what is worse, some poor but hon est manand Clifton’s lip curled with AUGUSTA, GA. MAY 24, 1845. a sneer as he sounded the last clause of the sentence. “ I cannot agree with you, Clifton,” said his wife, with a thought ful look, “our Lucy is a noble girl as heaven ever blessed, and it would be no disgrace in my eyes for her to marry a poor but honest man, which you empha sised with such contempt; for in a land like ours, where the road to honor is open to all, the poor but honest man, if he possess moral worth, integrity and en ergy, may build himself a fortune and fame as noble as any of the pampered would-be aristocrats of the country. — The fame and fortune built bv such men, outshine in splendor all other from the very fact of the obstacles they over come; rising like water to their own level, they proclaim to the world that they arc nature’s noblemen, who had been misplaced. Read our country’s history, Clifton, you will find those men who were poor but honest, glittering a mong the brightest stars in her crest.” “ I see, Laida, you are a theorist,” said Clifton. ‘<l am a matter-of-fact man; wc cannot agree on that point, therefore let it drop. 111. “ Miss Clifton,” said a young man, one evening, as he seated himself on an ottoman in her parlor, “ I have called on you this evening, perhaps, for the last time; and painful as the separation may be to me, I cannot but hope that at some future day fortune will smile on me more kindly, and give me power to equal the standard which your father has erect ed to qualify a suiter for your hand. I am poor, and never felt that poverty had ; such a keen fang until row; yet I am aspiring—my dreams of futurity are bright, and if I live, fortune and a name shall be mine ;” and he arose from his seat and paced the room, under the excitement of his feelings. “After what has passed between us, Ansley,” replied Lucy, “it were vain to say more. You know the state of my feelings towards you, and you cannot fail to believe that the affection which I have always cher ished for you, will always be the same. Yet duty to my parent is paramount to my own will, and between the conflict ing emotions of that duty and my af fection for you, I am very unhappy.”— “If I thought you were unhappy,” said Ansley, “it would but add another pang to my already painful feelings, but be faithful to me and I swear upon the al tar of my heart, if God will spare my life, that I shall rise up among men and wear honorable laurels, and you shall share them ; for the feelings that thrill in my bosom will be the beacon that shall guide me on. Your father has de sired that I should relinquish my visits to his house, because they were disagreea ble to him ; yet as your mother has been a kind friend to me, I thought as ho was absent I would make a farewell visit. It is not difficult to perceive the cause of his aversion to me—l am poor—an attor ney’s clerk—yet I am proud as Lucifer;” and he paused in the middle of the room and his head sunk on his bosom, as if bu ried in thought for a moment. It would have interested the observer to have gazed on that being as he stood, motionless as a monument, while his bosom was agitated by a powerful passion; he was below the common height, yet compact in form, and one might have gazed upon his broad massive brow and flashing blue eye which lit his whole face with an ex pression of sternness and energy, and felt that his eagle spirit was born to soar to high position among men. Suddenly raising his head, he advanced towards the sofa where Lucy was sitting; taking her hand in his he looked in her face for a moment. “ Lucy,” said he, “we must separate, and Heaven knows if we shall ever meet again ; I shall leave the city, and go I know not where—perhaps you shall never hear from me—we must try to forget each other,” and without utter ing another word, he pressed her hand to his lips and departed. IV. Time had recorded many changes and gave birth to many striking events, in the many long years that had glided a way, since Laida and Clifton had walk ed the floor of their parlor on the night that has been recorded. Since then there had been a gradual change in his circumstances; he was released from his pecuniary difficulties, and fortune seemed to have given him her sweetest smiles and bestowed her gifts upon him with unsparing hands; his house had be come a little palace in its splendor, and he gave gay entertainments and parties to his friends—he drove a fine carriage, and was on a footing and mingled with the bon ton of the city. Laida was still the same noble-hearted woman as when in her humblest days, and the same soft smile played around her lip when bend ing over the sick couch of some deso late and poverty-stricken being, as when she listened to the adulations of some votary of tashion, and both loved Laida; she was so good and kind. Lucy, the noble Lucy, occupied the high position in which her father had sighed to place her, and though she still seemed lovely as an angel of goodness, still you might detect tiie intersected lines of thought woven upon her fair brow; there seem ed to be a look of lovely sadness in her taco which bespoke a resigned, yet de terrnined will; she smiled as brightly and looked as kindly as if she -had not a care to ruffle the smoothe current of her thoughts. She believed she had taught herself to forget Ansley, for neither word nor letter ever gave a token of his fate; she often heard the name, for it belonged to many very eminent men men in the state, but still there was an indefinite something which lingered in her breast. In vain did her father chide her when she refused the hymenial of fers of the many wealthy, talented and gifted young men who sought her hand; yet she gave them such a gentle and feeling refusal, that from lovers they be came devoted friends. “ Miss Clifton, I am going to Louisianna,” said one of her suitors, one evening at a party, “and though we cannot become more than friends, yet place the name of Mar tin foremost among those on whom you would lean in an hour of need ; for if it ever falls to my lot, I would trace the footsteps of my fate to serve you.”— Lucy gave Martin her hand, and prom ised to remember him when away in the far South-west. Proffers of friendship made in hours of prosperity have seldom much weight with the giver or receiver, but there was something so frank and open in Martin’s countenance, —his brow clouded and his eye flashed with an ear nest fire as his deep toned voice sounded in her ear, that she never forgot that no ble hearted young Southerner. V. Clifton left the city on some private business, —for his temporary absence he employed an officer in the bank to dis charge his official duty while gone. But alas! before he returned a cloud had risen on the horzon of his destiny which mantled, as with a shroud of darkness, the sky of his fortunes forever. The of ficer to whom he had confided his busi ness, by a mere accident discovered that Clifton had embezzled the funds of the bank to a startling amount, and the con sequence was that he communicated the intelligence to the presiding officer, who, after examining the affairs, found that the intelligence was too true, and a war- i rant was immediately issued to attach ] the person of the defaulter. Clifton in j returning to the city was apprized of his ] danger, and, without even taking leave < of his wife and daughter, precipitately , fled, no one knew whither. Laida re- i WASHIJtGTONIAH TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE. We, whose names are hereunto an nexed, desirous of forming a Society for our mutual benefit, and to guard against a pernicious practice, which is injurious to our health, standing and families, do Se ourselves as Gentlemen, not to any Spirituous or Malt Liquors , Wine or Cider. [No. 45 ceived the intelligence of her husband with calmness, but it was with that calm ness which prevails when the hurricane is mustering its wrath, to blast with its desolating breath the bosom of the green earth. From that hour she faded away, and as the securities of her husband were involved deeply, she gave with her dying hand her signature to a deed which divest* ed her of every earthly possession, leaving her only child in indigence and want— a dependent on the bounty of others, and then she sank into the grave, the wreck of the loveliest and noblest being „ that God ever animated with the Pro methian spark. VI. The butterfly friends who surrrounded Lucy vanished with the summer of her fortune, and years rolled slowly away, when one evening she received an intro duction to a young gentleman from the Southern States, who in conversation in formed her that her father was living in n state of great wretchedness and pov erty, in the vicinity of New Orleans. It was enough for the noble girl to know that, and without a moment’s hesitation ' she determined to seek him out and min ister to him all the aid in her power; in vain did those around her represent the difficulties she would have to con tend with and the suffering she would have to undergo, her only answer was that ho was her father still; and remem bering the promises of Martin to be friend her, she set out on her journey, and by the aid of that noble young man she found the object of her search, ’ a menial in the yard of a stable, like an other Lucifer, repenting of his pride.—— | The generosity of Martin left her noth ing to do, for money and aid were at her service, and a few days wafted Martin ’ with the father and daughter back to the ( shores of the Chesapeak, where no soon er was it known that Cliflon was return ed, than he was immediately arrested and thrown into prison. I VII. Never was public sympathy so strong ly excited as it was for the unhappy Lu * cy Clifton; the rich, the poor, the high and low, seemed equally interested in the , fate of the unhappy girl, and a petition of a powerful array of names was drawn 1 up for the action of the executive clem ency, and Lucy carried it herself to An napolis, where the executive resided, in order that his compassion might bo touched. When she arrived at that city, accompanied by young Martin, she ap peared at the mansion of the Governor in order to present the petition. They ' were introduced into the parlor, and his Excellency who was busily engaged in some official matter, requested Martin to attend him in his study which he accor dingly obeyed, leaving Lucy in the parlor. The petition was handed to the chief magistrate, who glanced over it and passing his hand over his eyes, seemed to undergo the most painful emotions, and then seizing the pen he traced the name of Ansley, on a deed of pardon, and followed Martin to the parlor. The recog nition was mutual and Lucy sank beneath the intensity of her feelings. Martin gazed with astonishment,he saw in that meeting the withering of a hope which he still cher ished in his bosom. When Lucy recov ered Ansley was bending over her with painful anxiety, and when she became composed he raised her hand to his lips and pressing it he knelt, and sought and obtained forgiveness, and before many weeks had rolled away, Ansly pressed Lucy to his bosom as his bride. Clifton resided on a little farm a short distance from the city and in his old age he of ten related to the young persons around him his history, and inculcated the mor al, that wealth is not the ultima thule of happiness; but that honor and honesty, sustained by energy and perseverance, will place a man ifi the most exalted sta tions of human grandeur. 'T' I:"-'