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12 (BrantUy st»nor. BY LADY GEOKOIANA FULLERTON. [Continued.] “And so she should be; she has al ways been brought, up to it; and who should have the lir.st place among us, if it is not Margaret ? As to your vexing yourself, my dear, about your filler's ! not being glad to see you, it is foolish, rjally very foolish, becaus#—” “ I did not say he was not glad to see me, ” interrupted Margaret, with a heightened color, for she did not always bear with patience her grandmamma's animadversions. * l But, iny dear, how should he be glad to see you ? It is only by proving peo ple that we learn to love them," and she glanced at Walter with a glimmering notion that that last phrase had been in his line ; “ I never loved my children when I did not know them.” “ And when was that ?” asked Marga ret, somewhat cautiously, for it must be confessed that her temper was a little ruffled that day. “ When they went to school, my dear. I always said to my boys, ‘ Now, my dears, I have done with you; 1 have nothing more to say to you. No school boys ever care for their mothers, so I wash my hands of you. Don t talk to me till you are grown up ; don’t let me hear of you ; don’t come near me !’ ” “ I do not remember,” remarked Wal ter, “that John and Eustace obeyed your instructions. They seemed to me to stick close enough to you during the holidays.” “ Oh, they never minded a word I said to them,” replied Mrs. Thornton. “ 1 always was a cipher, a nothing, a non entity to them. They would follow me about because I gave them sugar-plums, but they did not love me, they did not care for me; there was no link between U3.” Again she glanced at Walter, for that last expression had been decidedly poetical, and this time it, was not lost upon him, for he smiled as he again presented the candlestick to Margaret, and was about to reply, when the sound of carriage wheels, the barking of the dogs, and the loud ringing of the bell, announced the arrival of Colonel Leslie to his home after ten years’ absence. The doors were flung open, two dogs rushed in, Margaret stepped forward, Mrs. Thornton looked flurried; Mr. Thornton, whose goe- prevented his rising as rapidly as he Cufod have wished, stretched out his hand, while on his fine open venerable face a joyous smile said “ Welcome,” better than any words would have done. Walter looked graver than usual. Colonel Leslie kissed Mar garet on the forehead, shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Thornton, and then wrung Walter’s in silence. And then there followed one of those spaces of time which are spent by every person present lii trying to look very happy, and to feel happy, while they can hardly resist the consciousness that they are extremely uncomfortable, and yet that it is impera tive not to suffer themselves of others to think so. Colonel Leslie, indeed, did not seem to think it necessary to make much effort. He sat down in an arm chair and poked the fire. Mr. Thornton, funded, took snuff, cleared his throat, and then asked him (how difficult to find a question to put to a man whom you have not seen for ten years!) if he had had a pleasant journey. Mrs. Thorn ton, who seldom allowed anybody to answer a question for themselves when she was present, took the words out of Colonel Leslie’s mouth, by asking in. re turn, “How could it be a pleasant jour ney, my dear ? How can you expect a man who has travelled all over the world like Leslie to see anything to ad mire at home in our poor little coun try ?” “ Why, mv dear Mrs. Thornton,” blurted out her husband, who had through life persevered in ‘reasoning with her, a practice which other people bad generally droj pe 1, “you might as well say that Leslie would have no pleasure in seeing us all again, be cause he has been used to a set of queer foreign-looking faces.” There was a dead pause; somehow ;-r other this last speech (teemed to have disconcerted Colonel Leslie, and Mr. Thornton to have felt the moment that be had uttered it, that it would have been better left unsaid. This re doubled the embarrassment of the whole party. Margaret, whose cheek bad been deepening in color evenednee > her father’s arrival, felt it was quite incumbont upon her to speak. First she looked at Walter, but he had sat bimself down by the fire, his long face onger than usual ; his long legs ex * tended before him, beyond what ap peared their natural size, and his eyes fixed on the fire as if they would never look on anything else again. At last, by smne happy inspiration she seized hi the front paws of ono of the tine dogs which had come in with her THE PACIFICATOR —A. CATHOLIC JOURNAL. father, placed them on her knees with out any regard for her white muslin gown, and said timidly, as she glanced at Colonel Leslie, “What a beautiful creature this is, papa !” lie started as if from a revery, looked attentively at her, sighed deep ly, and by a sudden impulse held out his hand. Margaret seized it, drew near to him, and from that moment a considerable thaw took place in the general aspect of things. Tea was brought .in for the second time, and Walter, who had perceived the affec tionate look which Leslie had cast on his daughter, and the renewed expres sion of pleasure in those eyes in which ho could never bear to see a cloud, shook off his oppressive gravity. lie and his friend began to talk of their former haunts and old acquaintances ; Mrs. Thornton, who, like the canary birds, always chirped the louder when others conversed, was encouraged to hold forth again in her usual tone; and her husband slowly recovered from that painful shock, the conscious ness of having said the wrong thing at the wrong time. And now we must, in another chapter, explain why Mr. Thornton’s remark had better not have been made, and how it came to add to the embarrassment of the assembled family at Grantley Manor. cii.u’tku ii. A short time after the death of his wife, Henry Leslie had left England in order to travel for a few months in Italy. The change of scene and the excitement of the journey, to a man of twenty-three, who had never before been out of his own country town, soon roused him from the depression which bad driven him from bis home to seek health and amusements abroad ; and by the time he had travelled through France, and spent a few weeks at Turin and at Milan, he was just in that state of mind and of feelings which most readily admits new im pressions. The acuteness of grief had subsided, and a vague desire for fresh interests and new excitements had taken its place. A latent taste for painting and for poetry, for the artistic and imaginative side of life, took strong possession of Leslie's fancy as he advanced into Italy. The influence of its brilliant skies—the magic of its natural beauties—the memories of the past—its departed glory and its living charm—operated more and more pow erfully on his soul ; and for the time being the quiet English country gen tleman was transformed into a passion ate admirer of that strange land whose very name is a spell ; whose very de fects are attractions; where desolate u is bewitching, suffering poetical, and poverty picturesque; where life re sembles a dream—where the past is almost more tangible than the present— where an eternal vitality springs from the bosom of -perpetual decay, like pure flowers floating on the surface of a dark and stagnant pool: life in its brightest and most glowing colors— death in its most poetical and soothing form, meet each other at every turn. With her cloudless skies and her tide less seas—the unchanging gray of her olive groves—the brilliant hues of her mountains and of her streams —the solemn silence of her cypress groves— the noisy throngs of her joyous people— her gorgeous churches, with their myriads of living worshippers—her gigantic tombs, with their countless multitude of unknown tenants, Italy is* at once and emphatically the land of the living and the land of the dead. This Leslie felt; he dd not seek so ciety—he did not enter into noisy amusements —he left his hours and his days to take their natural course—he floated down the current of life, while Nature and Ait unrolled before him visions of beauty and scenes of en chantment which appear to those whose souls they touch, not as novelties, but as the realization of a presentiment or of a dream. Have we not, some of us, in our hours of sleep, known a land, a spot, a home, which in our dreams we recognise—which, in our waking hours, we sometimes long to visit again? Have we not at times, in performing the commonest actions of life, in opening a book, in shutting a window, in meeting (for the hun dredth time perhaps) with a person, experienced a sudden, a strange, un accountable feeling, which suggests to us, in what appears a supernatural manner, that we have done that action, thought that thought', met that person in the same manner before, and vet the whole impression is independent of the memory, and is more a sensa tion than a thought? Sucb was the effect that the first sight of the Cam pagnaof Home produced upon Leslie: he had lingered at Genoa and at Florence ; he had become thoroughly imbued with the order of ideas and of taste, which creates in men a sort of new sense and new perceptions. I dwell much upon that change in the whole intellectual being which is caused by a series of impressions and associations, which, but a short while before, were as strange to the mind they visit as colors to the born blind, because it partly accounts for the sud den fancy which soon after took pos session of Leslie’s feelings. As lie was standing one morning on the steps of the church cf St. John Lateral!, and gazing on the view be fore him, lie exclaimed, half aloud : “ This ix Rome, indeed! 1 recognise her hero ! ” A young man, who was sitting on the stops with a drawing before him, heard these words, looked up, and while a bright sudden Italian smile flashed on his dark countenance, with out speaking lie nodded assent. This silent gesture made them acquainted, and a few words passed between them. This young man was a painter, and as Leslie glanced at his work, he was struck with the extraordinary talent which it evinced. The vague, myste rious, melancholy beauty of the Cam nagna—the contrast between the bril liancy of its coloring and its utter deso lation —was so truly rendered in the hasty sketch before him, that, pointing to it, he said in bad Italian, but with a smile— “ And this, also, is Rome !” “Ah, not more like Rome,” ex claimed the young artist, “than the ! creations of man are like the works of nature ! What I can do with these,” he added, hohling up his palette and his brushes, “ is so unlike what I see there (pointing to the Campagna), or here, (touching his own forehead). It is a great pain to conceive vividly, I and to render faintly !” This was said so earnestly and un affectedly, that Leslie instantly felt inclined to like and to know more of the young painter. Words sometimes affect us in a singular manner. A phrase, a sentiment which we may often have heard before, at times un accountably arrests our attention ; touches, perhaps, some chord which, by a remote and’’scarcely perceptible vibration, reaches our own heart, and by a kind of magnetic power instanta neously produces sympathy between us and the speaker. In this case it may have been that the Italian’s me lancholy and passionate love of his art, the disproportion which he simply expressed in a few words between the creations of bis fancy and the work of his bauds, answered to the feelings of olio, who like Leslie, under a cold and quiet manner, hid a keen sensibility and a lively imagination. To be a poet in the very depths of his soul, and to find no words in which to give life arid form to the thoughts which struggle within him ; to feel the might of genius and the strength of inspira tion ; to.be conscious of the fire which consumes him in secret, and to have no mould in which to cast the burning torrent; to feel the sacred flame dying away for lack of air and light to make glad dr mournful music in his secret soul, and never hear with his outward ears one note of those mysterious melodies vibrate through the air ; to feel (Tliat he can love with passion, or thrill with indignation, while'his voice is mute, his hands weak, and his eyes dim, is a pain that has, probably, been experienced by many a shy and silent man ; ono whom tho wayfaring man and the fool, the babbler of many words, or the scribbler of many pages, has passed by with indifference or gazed at with contempt; and it is to such as these that one word, One look, comes sometimes with a strange power, and unlocks in an instant the' flood gates which have been closed for years. The acquaintance which had com menced on the steps of St. John Late ran soon ripened into intimacy. Les lie’s fiery and poetic nature, which the quiet round of domestic duties and in terests, and the mild light of an early and unthwarted affection had not ■roused, now sprang into existence, or rather became conscious of its own strength, and in Leonardo Ferrari jie found a companion whose character and tastes were at this moment exactly suited to his own. He was an enthu siast and an artist. At once indolent ami eager, simple in his character, and impassioned in his language, he was a true Italian. In his romance, there was a nature ; in his passion, a simplicity ; in bis eyes, a fire ; and in his manner, a languor which charac terizes that nation, and seems a type of that country, which one of their poets so mournfully addresses— “ Ileh. tu fossi men bella, o nlmen pin forte, Ond’aseai pill u paventasse o assai ’T’inna.ssi men.” For two months- Leslie and Leonar do spent such days together as can be spent in Rome alone. Among the ruins of departed glory, scattered as natural ornaments among the fairest and most fantastic scenes that nature ever created; among the relies of a stupendous human power; amidst the memorials of a divine and eternal' faith ; in tho catacombs, those dark palaces of the glorious dead in the matchless arena, where the blood of martyrs has washed away the foul stain's of heathen idolatry, and the image of the Dying Gladiator fades before that of the Saint who yielded his body to the lions, and committed his soul to his God ; in the aisles of St. Peter’s, in the galleries of the \ at’ean, in tho gardens of the \ ilia Doria, they wandered together. Many a lonely church, many a deserted villa, many a silent pine-grove they visited in the twilight hour; and in the day Leslie was often in the studio, where Leonar do worked with that religious devotion to his art, which belonged more to a past than to the present era, and re called the days when an artist seldom seized a pencil to trace on li is canvass the image of our Lord, of his blessed mother, or of the saints, without first? kneeling to pour forth bis soul in prayer. Leslie learned Italian, and for the first time read the sublime works in that language, as he sat on the broken marble sarcophagus, which formed the garden scat of Leonardo’s studio. A few flowers grew in that court—a small fountain played in the centre, and two imprisoned birds sung their wild notes over his head. The Italian sun shed its intense light on the walls of the studio, and Leslie’s eyes often wandered from his book to the canvass, to which the artist was transplanting one of bis mental visions. The subject lie had chosen was tho resurrection of Jairus’s daughter, and into this picture the painter had thrown his whole soul: there was but one figure in it. that of the maiden i-ising from the bed of death. The expres sion of her face, her attitude, told the story (if ono may so speak) better than if the figures of our Lord, of his apostles, of her parents, and of the scoffers who in that solemn hour be came believers, had boon also depicted ; and imagination portrayed them more vividly, perhaps, than if the hand of the artist had designed them. The countenance of the little maiden was so holy—there was at once such awe and such serenity in the expression of those large eyes, which an instant be fore had been closed in death ; a vague regret for the vision that was flown—a dawning joy for the life that was re gained ; on her brow the seal of another world, whose threshold she had passed; on her half-opened lips, a welcome for that to which she was restored :—that as Leslie gazed on this picture day after day, his imagination was move and more captivated by its divine and its earthly beauty. He thought that he had never seen anything so fair in form,, or so angelic in expression, as the maiden of Leonardo’s design. [To le enittilined. J I*. GIULIMAKTIM, TM-ALER IN WOOL. HIDES, TALLOW I ' AND WAX, 192 Congress street, second door from Jefferson, Savannah, Ga. A supply of the above articles constantly on hand. All kinds of skins bought and sold. oct22—2mos J. J. BROOM. W. C. JONES. BROOM & CO., COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 2;IS Broad Street, Oct. 10 Ainjini'n. Ga. J. C. Ml! NEK. C. R. KEEN. T. COI.KMAN. M ULSTER, REEST & CO., A UCTI.ON AND GENERAL COMMIX II SION MERCHANTS, 274 Broad Street, Augusta, Ga. Negroes, Real Estate, Stock, Furniture and everything, bought and sold on commission. Consignments solicited and prompt returns made. Oct. 15—2 m Slew Tailoring Establish ment. TOHN KENNY, LONG AND FAVOR 'S ABLY known in connection with the House of J. il. Newby A Cos., J. K. flora A Cos. and Horn, Wise & Cos., has commenced business on his own account, at the store of Charles Catlin, opposite the Smthcrn States Hotel, where he hopes to receive a share of the public patronage heretofore so liberally extended to him. Oct. 15 ARCANE. IVT M. CAYCE A CO.. AUCTIONEERS * - « and Commission Merchants, General Agents. Negro and Real Estate Brokers, formerly of Memphis, Tenn., late of Atlan ta, Ga., can now be found in Augusta, Ga . Broad street, opposite the Planters' Hotel. Furniture. Merchandise and Stock of all kinds receive due attention. Our success for thirty years past in the trade induces us to trust the future for success. Remember the Arcade When you wish to trade. Oct. 35 TVOTICE. The undersigned has this day associated with him in the General Commission Business, Mr. W. C. JONES. The business will bo conducted in the name of BROOM A CO., at the old stand, 238 Broad Street. J. J. BROOM. Augusta, October 4,1864—12 t W. A. RAMSEY & A UCTION AND GENERAL COMMIS IX SION MERCHANTS, No. 308 Broad Street, opposite Union Bank, Augusta, Ga. G. A. Parker, Auctioneer. References.— Edward Thomas, Hon. It. H. May, Alfred Baker, J. 11. Taylor, Flem ing & -'Robinson, Henry Edmondson, Au gusta; 11. C. Goodrich A Cos., Lawburu A Kossett, David Hudson, Columbus: K. Winsbip, Snulsbury A Pease, Macon ; W. 11. Stark, Savannah: C. N. Hubert, '3. T. Burge, J. Purcell, Charleston: J. S. Lin ton, R. L. Bloomfield* Athens; J. D. Pois son, Geo. Myers. Wilmington ; B. 11. Micou, If. ]), Browder, J. E. llukill, Montgomery ; George E. W. Nelson, 3). Omahumlra, John A. Bowen, Richmond, la. Get. lu—> ln iTKITYSOIV & SIIEEDT, A UCTIONEERS AND COMMISSION IX MERCHANTS, Augusta, Ga.. will giro prompt attention to all business en trusted to them. Consignments respectfully solicited. References. —Jackson A Miller, Augus ta, Ga.. J. T. Paterson A Cos., Augusta. Ga,, Stockton A Cos., Augusta, Ga., Chichester A Cos., Augusta, Ga, Walsh A Illume, Au gusta, Ga, Geo. E. W. Nelson. Richmond. Ya., T. D. Wagner. Esq, Charleston, S. C, Maj. E. Willis, Charleston, S. 0, W. 11. Stark, Esq, Savannah, Ga, Burke, Boykin A Cos, Macon, Ga. Oct. B—4t SEAL & WHITLOCK. General agents and commis sion MERCHANTS, for the sale of Manufactured Tobacco, or any kind of Pro duce, at No. 183 Broad Street, two door* above the Express Office. References —Edward Thomas, Presi- TJnion Bank. Jno. Bones, President Augusta Bank, S. Wvatt, Merchant, Wilcox A Hand, Merchants, Alfrecl Baker, Merchant, James 11. Taylor, Merchant, Lainback A Cooper. Out. B—St THE MAGKOLIA WRE RIAL A FIRST-CLASS LITERARY AND GENERAL NEWS JOURNAL, contain ing eight clearly printed pages of reading matter, of four columns each, is published every Saturday, in the city of Richmond, and is replete with the most interesting, original and selected Tales, Sketches and Poetry, Biographical Notices and Criticisms, in addition to a summary of varied and current Foreign-and Domestic News Items., together with a Special Department, allotted to the Wit and Humor of the Day! The “Magnolia Weekly” is especially tb* Ladies’ Paper, and as such it is conducted so as to render it a universal favorite in the Home Circle, and wherever a polished lite rary taste calls for a pure and instructive Literature. The publication of anew Serial, of ab sorbing interest, entitled “ The Alderlby Tragedy,” by Tobias Guarnerius, Jr., au thor of the prize romance, “ Guilty or Not Guilty,” will be commenced about the Ist of October, to extend through twelve or fifteen numbers of the paper, and will be followed by a variety of interesting Tales and Novel ettes by our best writers. ’ In view of the early publication of “The Alderlcy Tragedy,” agents and those who wish to subscribe will please forward their orders and subscriptions as soon as possible. The “ Magnolia Weekly” will lie furnish ed to subscribers for Twenty Dollars - - Per Annum. Twelve Dollars - - Six Months. Subscribers making remittances will be particular in stating the name and where abouts of their respective postofl'n-es, and will also avoid enclosing county or corpora tion notes. Agents in all parts of the. Confederate States will.lie supplied at the rate of twenty - live dollars per hundred. Ail orders must be accompanied by tho cash. Specimen numbers sent free of charge where desired. A limited space will be devoted to adver tisements, paid for in advance. All correspondents will please address SMITH A ROBERTSON, Proprietors. Oct. 8 Richmond, Ya. MEW MI’SIC STORE, No. 200 Broad Street, Augusta, Ga. T 11. HEWITT HAS ALWAYS OX •f • hand a large selection of the newest Musicitl Publications, comprising Vocal and Instrumental Pieces of the most popular kind. Besides, all kinds of Musical Mer chandize and Stationery. The Trade and Academies furnished at the usual discount. Music sent by mail to any part of the Southern Confederacy, on receipt of the pi ice of the piece or pieces ordered. Oct. B—3m ML O’OOWIY. •GENERAL COMMISSION MERCHANT, No. 273 Broad Street, > Augunta, Ga. Has for sale—sixty sacks su gar, 21 boxes Sugar, 10 hills. Appl-e Brandy, 20 bbls. Corn Whiskey, 61)0 pairs Cotton Cards, 500 boxes Tobacco, assorted brands, 0,000 lbs. Swoed Iron, 50 tierce* Salt, 100 half tierces Salt, 5 bale* Hickory Stripes, 1 000 lbs. Solo Leather, 200 art.!* Knives and Forks. Oct. 8 M. O’DOWD. ALGISHTA IS ©TEE. The undersigned would res pectfully inform their old friends, patrons and the travelling public, that tlm-v have leased the above named Hotel, and having had it thoroughly refitted and reno vated, can confidently promise to give all wlio may favor them with their patronage, entire satisfaction. JONES A WHITAKER. Late of Washington Hall. Ulantat. S. M. JONES, Late*of Commercial Hotel, Memphis, '.Cbm. Oct. B—lt. Printed for the Proprietors at the Office <d J. T. PATERSON & GO., Book, Job and New paper Printers and Lithographers, corner ert Mclntosh and Broad Streets, Augusta, Ga.