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tenanee assumed nearly every variety of ex
pression that the human countenance can as
sume. When he had finished—
“Well,’’ said he, “of all the Bills of Sale that
ever I laid my eyes upon, that beats. If you
had come to me and told me to draw up an in
strument, in the form of a bill of sale, that at all
times, and in all Courts would be equal to a con
fession of judgment by you, in any suit brought
against you, by any person claiming under Mrs.
Glib, I couldn’t have come within gun-shot of
this for that purpose. Burn it up immediately—
destroy it—what's your wife's name doing to
that bill of sale ? Isn’t Flora Curt the woman
you’ve been living with as your wife ? But it’s
not worth while to talk about it—destroy it, I tell
you, immediately 1”
“And then what title will I have to show for
all these negroes and ”
“None ; trust to “the defects of Glib’s title, or
to his not being able to identify them ”
“Is that the best advice that you can give me ?”
“Yes.”
“Then I'll get another lawyer. Stark would
give me the same advice ; I understand it I”
“What do you mean, you cheating, swindling,
adulterous rascal ?” said Smith, moving to the
back room with a stick-hunting motion. Carp
was goue*before his return.
Carp employed a young attorney of Woodville,
who confirmed his views of the bill of sale, in
every particular. “There’s the title,” said he,
“plainly and distinctly set forth—not simply upon
a good consideration, which would have been all
sufficient, but also upon a valuable consideration,
and, to make assurance, doubly sure, upon divers
other considerations. This title, like the resistless
torrent, is sustained by various tributaries from
perfectly pure sources. Then it is fortified by a
rampart of truth and .generosity on your part,
Mr. Carp, that must forever protect it from the
imputation of fraud. All else is mere surplusage.
How such a profound jur.st as Mr. Smith is could
have advised you to destroy this all important
document I cannot conceive, unless he overlooked
that sterling legal maxim : Utile per inutile non
vitiatur.”
Carp was enraptured with this impromptu dis
play of legal ability, rejoiced at his chango of
Attornies, and highly flattered at finding his skill
in guarding against “ afterclaps ” so fully avouched.
Far as we have digressed from the direct path
of our narrative, we are strongly tempted to fol
low this bill of sale through the several Courts
in which it made its appearance, but in charity
to the reader’s patience we forbear. Suffice it to
say, that as soon as Stark saw it, he took a copy
of it, served notices to produce it in all the cases,
and never let it get out of Court until it had, as
we have said, turned over nearly the whole of
Carp’s estate to Glib and his niece. This is but
one ofa thousand instances in which rascality has
over-reached itself, and been made subservient to
justice.
Glib and his niece returned to Alabama, rich,
and both prospered in life. Curt was lucky.—
Watson purchased him out entirely, in less than
two months after Carp’s departure, at tolerably
fair prices and he set out in quest of his wife
with three thousand dollars in his pocket. Ho
had not gone far in Louisiana before he learned
that there were no such places in the State as
Chuckiluckimaw, and Tonnafoosky : so coming
upon a valuable piece of land, he purchased it
cheap, and settled down upon it with two negro
women, proceeds of his surplus funds. His land
grew in value, and his negroes in number, and
thus when he died, (a little before liis wife) he
left a right pretty little estate, which went to
swell the fortune of his daughter. 11 would have
been lost to her, but for a letter which he wrote
to a friend in Georgia, just before his death, who
three or four years afterwards went to visit
Glib.
[to be continued.]
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
A SKETCH.
Day had not quite departed—the setting sun
in silent majesty had gone to rest; the innumer
able sounds that fill a city’s busy life, grew hush
ed and still as evening’s gray came deepening
on. I sat within my lonely chamber, where dis
ease had kept mo prostrate weary weeks, and
looked forth upon the sky; darkness had been
around me now so long, that nature came with
renovated beauty to bless my dim and fal
tering sight.
Around me were familiar things; my mother’s
old arm chair was just within my reach, filled
with its clustering memories of the loved and
lost; my own arm chair—thou silent soother of
so many a weary hour, when I have nursed my
children through the long, long watches of the
dreary night, and prayed they might be
spared to bless me; my beautiful 1 my best be
loved ! for you my prayer was vain—Heaven’s
golden circlet now is twined within thy curls,
and in those hands of matchless beauty is its
sweetest harp, but angel as thou art — thou art
my men, and this old chair so dearly loved
by thee, I now recline on; with thoughts thus
sadly filled, I looked upon the sky; with the
sombre leaden hue of coming night, it suited
well ray fancies. I gazed and gazed, and thought
upon my boy, and wondered if his spirit eyes
looked lovingly upon his mother, while my ach
ing heart yearnod for an answer. From those
gloomy depths broke forth a star —trembling and
bright, it looked as though it wished to pierce
my very heart, and fill it with the blest assur
ance of his memory and his love. Is this thy
star, my boy? And dost thou come in this
bright guise to bless my wounded heart ? Oh!
God protect me from the blindness that I so
much dread, and if it be Thy gracious will that
health again should visit this poor frame, oh 1
may it bring renewed acceptance of Thy love,
and grief that I havo wronged it. P. E.
—— mmk-
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
DREAM LIFE.
Oh I this dream life ; how sweet it is ! How
sweet to wander by the gurgling streams, upris
ing in the land of song, or gushing from affec
tion's rock by the kindly touch of sympathy.—
How sweet, in fancy's soul-lit lauds, where
beaming stars of thought e’er keep their vigils
bright, and sing their morning songs in harmo
ny divine, to wake the tuneful soul to dream
again! .
Oh, dreams ! how ye do people life, and fill all
the blank chasms of the soul! Like statues on
cathedral walls, in every niche and corner of
the heart, some sweet goddess of Beauty stands,
smiling love all the day long. The Virgin Mary
of all our hopes, sweet mother of all our dreams !
Oh! these life-longings, these spirit-reachings!
upward, upward still i These hopes unrealized,
these dreams unfulfilled. Shadowy phantoms,
frail fabrics of decay ! the night comes, and the
grave—and where are they ’?
Oh, the dreamland is a fairy land where Fancy
wanders wild. Love, Joy and Song, hand in
hand, like a wandering child, lead us unto those
castles, builded, 0, so frail, yet beauteously !
whose walls of golden hopes are reared, and
with longings sweet adorned, whose halls are
peopled with memories endeared, and the sweet
smiles of the blessed gone ! K. B. T.
XHE SOTTXKE&H SXB&D An VXKSBXBS.
Written fur the Southern Field and Fireside.
BABY MAY.
BY St. Si., or WALKVT GROVE.
The earth wss in silence, the shadowy light
Os the moonbeams stole softly, o'er flow'rets and trees.
Above and around, spread the beautiful night,
Fanned gently to rest, by the dew-laden breeze.
The odorous breath of the vine-clad bowers,
Came balmily up from the forest afar,
Commingling its fragrance with night's gentle flowers,
That smilingly held in each dew cup a star.
Like a veil of enchantment thrown over the scene,
A mist-wreath hung lightly on pinions of air,
Floating upward it circled in silvery sheen,
The moon with a halo of radiance rare,
A while it thus rested, its soft fleecy fold
Bathing hill-top and vale with mild dewy light,
Then deftly some wind-sprite its fleeciness rolled
In a billowy cloud, edged with foam-crestcd white.
As I gazed on it thus, but a moment it seemed
E'er slowly, an arch of such loveliness rare
Spanned thebillowy cloud, that the moonbeamsl weened
Had stolen the dew-drops, andrainbowed them there.
And suddenly then, some mysterious power
Removed the dim veils, which our senses enshroud,
And I saw, methought, in that mystical hour,
Beyond the light rainbow and shadowy cloud
Just then, was it fancy, or really, mine ear,
Did it catch a sweet strain, like an echo of song,
Os song that might come from a heavenly sphere,
A chorus of joy from somejoy-burde-ned throng ?
And my spirit-eyes saw adown the bright arch
A fair host, angelic, descending from Heaven,
They bear on their pinions, as earthward they march,
A spirit unborn, that to earth had been given.
With harp-strings and lute, wrought of sunset's bright
hue,
Tuned to heavenly notes, sang this cherubim throng:
‘ Oh ! spirit unborn," were their words, “pure and true,
Thou art given us to guard thee, life's journey along.
Invisibly near thee, our mission shall be,
To keep thee from weakness, temptation and sin,
For pure as the i>cnH, in its shell 'neath the sea,
Is the soul, it is ours, from Evil to win."
’Twas the voice of this choir, in its melody soft,
That I heard as t)hey bore her from heavenly bowers,
For the hour thnt it vanished this vision aloft,
Baby May oped her eyes, on this fair world of ours.
And oft I have thought, as in slumber I've seen
A smile all seraphic, unearthly and rare,
Steal over her features, they're with her, I ween,
Those angels that hare Baby May in their care !
Mr. Max* ; Baby May is no poetic fiction, butagen
uiuc bright-eyed “wee-bit birdie” that oped its blue eyes
on “this fair world of ours," May ISth last At the same
hour, by some strange poetic coincidence, I witnessed
for the first time, that beautiful phenomenon—a rainbow
at night,—and to please Baby May's papa and mamma, my
idle pen has wrought the little incident up into rambling
rhyme, for which, we humbly beg the poet's corner of
your next Fireside. We promise, moreover, to keep
the veritable sheet, till ‘Baby May’s blue eyes' are wise
enough to read of the angelic sponsorship so oddly vouch
safed for her by her loving auntie, M. M.
August, 1859.
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
JACK HOPETON AND HIS FRIENDS
OR,
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GEORGIAN.
BY WM. W. TURNER.
CHAPTER X.
The week after I got home, the guests began
to arrive. Col Banks and daughter were the
first to come. The Col. was a fine-looking, rud
dy old gentleman, whose white hair was the
only sign of approaching age. Ho was of the
old school; well educated, refined and very po
lite—especially to the sex. Miss Kate Morgan
had joined the Holmes party, and they all came
in a lump. Uncle Charley had not yet honored
Hopeton with his presence.
“He is anxious,” said my father, “like a fine
belle, by delaying, to make liis advent with as
much eclat as possible.”
Late one evening, as several of the guests
were assembled in the front colonnade, they
saw a carriage of considerable pretension roll
ing toward the house.
“Here comes the immaculate Charley Hamp
ton at last,” said Mr. Hopeton.
“Where?” asked Mrs. Holmes.
“In that carriage.”
“How do you manage to recognize him ?”
“By his equipage, to be sure.”
“Well, I should imagine from what I have
heard of him, that he is just the man to travel
in such a £audy affair as that.”
“Charley will travel in good style.”
“You won’t pretend to say that that concern is
in good taste ?”
“I shall certainly inform my friend of your sar
castic remarks, concerning his carriage.”
“I hope you will, Mr. Hopeton."
“Well, ho will most assuredly seek revenge.”
“How?”
“Can you not guess?”
“No.”
“You know Charley’s reputation?”
“In what way, sir?”
“As King of Hearts.”
“I know he tries to act that character.”
“His revenge, then, will be sought after the
usual manner of your flirts.”
“Pray enlighten us, Mr. Hopeton.”
“He will set himself out to win your heart,
that he may break it.”
“I have heard much of the redoubtable Mr.
Hampton,” said Mrs. Holmes, “and met [him
once, but was too busy to pay much attention
to him. Now, though, I shall have a good op
portunity, and intend to bring him to my feet.”
“Provided he does not anticipate you, Mrs.
Holmes.”
“When I saw him,” continued the lady, “ I
had so mauy flirtations on hand, and it was so
late in the season, I concluded not to undertake
him."
“And so now ? ” said Miss Laura Banks,
who came out just then :
“So now,” answered Mrs. Holmes, “I have
plenty of leisure, and am determined to victim
ize him.”
ABut perhaps,” said Miss Banks, “he is ma
king the same calculations concerning you.”
“Possibly.”
“You know the vanity of these men is aston
ishing.”
“Yes.”
“But who is it that you are going to treat so
cruelly ?”
“One Mr. Charley Hampton.”
“Oh! Mrs. Holmes. Then I shall be your
rival.”
“Very good. Both of us together surely can
prove too much for him.”
“I shall certainly contend for th.e honor of
breaking his heart,” said Miss Banks.
“You know Charley, then?” enquired my
father.
“I liavo never met him, but have heard of him
often.”
“Well, it is certainly singular,” said Mr. Hope
ton, laughing.
“What is singular ?”
“Excellent! We’ll have rare sport!"
“But what is so singular, Mr. Hopeton?”
asked Mrs. Holmes.
. “Oh, only a slight coincidence between the
language you and Miss Banks have used, and
that of a letter I received not long ago.’’
“Indeed ? Well, suppose you let us hear what
the letter says."
“I intend to do so and then I shall inform
Charley of your charitable intention concerning
him.”
“Do; and then we will be fore-warned and
fore-armed all round."
“Certainly: it will be a fair trial of skill.”
“But the letter.”
“Here it is, then. Charley is a voluminous
writer to me; but I will read you only a
short extract.”
Mr. Hopeton read as follows:
“And you say, Henry, the renowned Mrs.
Holmes will be at Hopeton. lam glad of it. I
have long desired to cultivate her acquaintance,
but have never had an. opportunity of doing so.
True, I saw the lady once at Cotoosa, and was
introduced to her, but I had so many flirtations
on hand that I was unable to bestow more than
a passing thought on any new acquaintance.
Now, however, thank Cod! I am clear of all
last season’s engagements, perfectly at leisure,
and ready for a flirtation with Mrs. Holmes. I
am not a vain man you know, Hal, but I may
say you are well enough acquainted with Charley
Hampton to guess what will be the result when
he sets out to win the heart of a lady, though
that ladv should be the famous Mrs. Holmes her
self.”
A burst of laughter greeted the reading of this
precious extract, and none enjoyed it more than
Miss Banks. Mrs. Holmes was astounded.
“His impudence is past belief,’’ said she at
length; “but the greater his pride, the greater
will be his fall.”
“Very philosophical," said my father.
“But,” lie continued, 'Miss Banks, will you
now hear what Charley lias to say of you ?”
“Os me!’’ exclaimed Miss Laura in the utmost
confusion.
“Certainly.”
“Why what can ho know of me ?”
“A great deal”
“But how?”
“Did you not say, a moment ago, that you
had heard of him ?”
“Yes.”
“Well, is it surprising that he should have
heard of you ?’’
“Lsuppose not.’’
“You flirts, male and female, are sure to know
all about each other, whether personally ac
quainted or not.’’
“But I think it is rather impertinent for him
to indulge in remarks concerning a lady he never
even saw.”
“Do you? But you have been talking of
him.”
“Ladies are privileged.”
“And so are kings of hearts.”
nothing of which harm can be made.”
“Neither has he; or I would not read it to
you.”
“Well, letus hear it, at any rate.”
“Here it is, then.”
“Miss Banks, of Louisiana, I hear, will also
honor Hopeton with her presence. This, too, is
very lucky, for she is a lady I have long wish
ed to see ; and ns it is impossible that the other
affair can occupy all my time, the conquest of her
heart may prevent the balance from hanging
heavily on my hands. You may look for me
about the Ac.”
Amid the laughter created by this second read
ing, the carrriage was up at the gate, and a
fine looking mulatto opened the door for his
master, who occupied the back seat. The latter
rose slowly and lounged la/.ily and dignifiedly
down the steps, with an unlit cigar between his
teeth ; having been enjoying a dry smoke for
the last half hour of his ride. He stopped a few
moments to give some directions to his servant;
and I will tell you how he appeared to the la
dies as ho stood, with bis neatly gloved hand
raised to enforce attention.
He was an exceedingly fashionable looking
gentleman, with hair dark, but not black, a pair
of eyes not easily matched for expression and
intelligence, and features rather distingue than
handsome. On his face there rested an air of
the, most supremo and imperturable self-satisfac
tion, which, however, differed from the vulgar
conceit of ordinary dandies, as the bright shi
ning gold from the base counterfeit.
His dress was plain, but fitted in such away
as to show that he had an artist to work for
him; and though unassuming, it was made of
rich material. His figure and bearing were
magnificent—grand; and as he stood, in a care
less, but graceful attitude, addressing his ser
vant, Mrs. Holmes and Miss Banks, look as
closely as they might, could find no defect in his
personal appearance, and they were forced to
acknowledge to themselves that ho was a foe
man worthy of their steel.
As he finished his directions, he turned very
leisurely towards the steps, and was met at the
bottom by his friend. For awhile he threw
aside his fashionable manner, and his voice trem
bled a little as ho grasped my father’s hand.—
He soon recovered, however, and resumed his
mask, but not before all present had noted and
wondered at this remarkable exhibition of feel
ing.
“Mon cher Henri,” said Uncle Charley, as he
ascended the steps, “I am exceedingly glad to
find you looking so well, and still more, to see
you dressed like a gentleman. I perceive you
have not forgotten the lessons I taught you.”
“You taught me, indeed! Why, Charley, lam
a better dressed man to-day than you, although
you are young and unmarried, while I am old
and a pater familias."
Now, Uncle Charley and my father were of
the same age, and this assertion was intended
as a sly hit at the former, for the amusement of
the ladies.
“All vanity, Henry,” replied Uncle Charley, in
nowise disconcerted. “AU vanity. I see you
have not yet rid yourself of that besetting sin of
your youth.”
“And as it is a sin of youth , of course Charley
Hampton lies under no suspicion of being guilty
of it."
“Ah! you will persist in attempting to be wit
ty, when I have so often assured you it is impos
sible for you to be so. But we’U talk all this
over to-night, when these bright eyes around
us are closed in sleep. Now, I must pay my re
spects to them : present me.”
“Well, you know Mrs. Holmes already ?”
“I believe I may claim that honor,” said Un
cle Charley, bowing profoundly.
“ Certainly, we are acquainted, Mr. Hope
ton,” replied the lad}', with a stately inclination
of her head.
“I know Mrs. Holmes; for what Georgian
does not know the boast and pride of his State?
But I was not sure she would recognize so hum
ble and obscure an individual as myself, since
our former acquaintance was so short.”
“Come, Mr. Hampton, this affectation of such
excessive modesty will make me suspect you of
the sin of vanity, concerning which you have
been lecturing Mr. Hopeton.”
“Upon my honor," began Uncle Charley, lay
ing his hand upon his heart; when he was in
terrupted with,
“Never mind now, Charley, that fine speech
will keep till another time. I wish to present
you to another lady. Miss Banks, allow me to
introduce to you’my bosom friend. Mr. Hamp
ton.”
“I am honored in forming your acquaintance,
Miss Banks,” said Mr. Hampton, with another of
his inimitable bows.
“And I,” said Miss Laura, “am happy' to know
one who calls himself a friend of Mr. Hopeton.”
Uncle Charley pissed on to seek his room;
and the knot in the colonnade broke up. How
well I recollect that night—the night of our
friend’s arrival; because I took a stroll with the
beautiful Kate Morgan, and, in the flood of ra
diance cast down through the foliage of our no
ble oaks, gazing on her lovely countenance, I
almost imagined myself to be in love. It is not
of this I wish to speak, now, however; but on
that brilliant evening, all of our guests assem
bled in the colonnade, where some remained, and
whence some wandered through the magnificent
grove around the house.
Mrs. Holmes, escorted by Uncle Charley, was
among the latter. They made desperate at
tempts to convinco each other that they were in
nocent, unsophisticated individuals, unacquaint
ed with the wiles of flirts, Ac. Finally they grew
sentimental, then communicative and intimate
—laying bare the inmost recesses of their young
and tender hearts. They parted very much
pleased, and with the best understanding in tlie
world.
The next morning at breakfast, the gentleman
addressed the lady in a rather familiar, confi
dent manner. Not to his surprise, her manner
was cold —almost rude. He smiled very quietly
and benevolently, for the rest of the day giving
her a wide berth.
It was really amusing and interesting to
watch the course of this flirtation between Mrs.
Homes and Uncle Charley, especially since I
was doubtful as to what would be the issue of
the contest. Sometimes, as I gazed on the proud
and lofty Holmes, and listened to the rich tones
of her voice, I thought my father’s friend was in
danger of losing his heart in good earnest.
Again, when I looked at the fine, manly fig
ure, and recollected the true eloquence of Uncle
Charley, I concluded that the lady was at least
in equal danger. Still, knowing that each was,
as the lady had expressed it, forewarned and
forearmed, and conscious of being watched by
the rest of us, I was convinced they would bo
very cautious how they gave way to anything
ike genuine feeling.
I was well aware that Charley Hampton was
not what he seemed to the world. I knew that
his heart was in the right place. With Mrs.
Holmes I was less acquainted, and was uncer
tain whether she was, or not, what the world
reported her—a mere heartless coquette. Per
haps the reader will discover, in time.
Os courso Uncle Charley did not wait on Mrs.
Holmes to dinner that day. She was escorted
by Edgar Morton, while the knowing Mr. Hamp
ton accompanied the quiet, but charming Miss
Morton. It happened, though, that the two
couples sat opposite each other, so that a corf
versation by one party had to be carried on in
an exceedingly low tone, to avoid being heard
by the other.
Whether this situation of affairs was the re
sult of accident, or design on the part of the
cunning Charley, I cannot say, but this I know,
Mrs. Holmes and her cavalier had taken their
seats before the other two got to the table, and
there were a number of other seats vacant; still,
they sat in the position described.
It would havo seemed from Uncle Charley’s
manner that he was unconscious of the fact of
Mrs. Holmes being so near him; for ho never
raised his eyes to her face during dinner, but
appeared entirely devoted to the fair girl at his
side.
Ed. Morton was a clever, good-looking gentle
manly' fellow, not very intelligent or romantic,
but it was strange how suddenly Mrs. Holmes
had become interested in his conversation—for
she seemed equally absorbed as Uncle Charley—
she who, generally, was ready to die with ennui,
on being forced into a tete-a-tete with any one
the least prosy or dull.
The dinner passed off’, and the same game
was kept up in the drawing room, until Mrs.
Holmes began to tire of it. Indeed it was not
very difficult to forget Mrs. Holmes, or any one
else, seated by Miss Morton’s side, listening to
her soft and liquid accents, and Uncle Charley’s
oblivion was not altogether assumed. Mrs.
Holmes was perfectly aware of the attractions
possessed by her rival of the evening, and tliis
knowledge by no means contributed to soothe
her.
When she had snubbed her beau of the night
before, she thought a few words in her win
ning way, and a tender glance of her brilliant
eye, would be sufficient at any time, to bring
him back to her side. Accordingly she passed
close to where he sat, and made some gay, ban
tering remark. It was in the form of an inquiry,
and she supposed he would answer in his usual
style of extravagant compliment. On the con
trary, after finishing a sentence he had com
menced, he rose, formally answered her, stand
ing, in his gravest, most measured tones; then
resumed his seat, and his conversation with
Miss Morton.
Mrs. Holmes’ first impulse was to turn and
leave him to himself, but she recollected this
would be a triumph for him. “If,” thought she,
“I can bring him in, now that he is disposed to
be a little rebellious, my power will be estab
lished so she sat down on a sofa close by.
“My dear Miss Morton,” she said, “it is un
fair that you should appropriate to yourself, en
tirely, the only lion of the company.”
“I am sure I make no effort to appropriate
any one.”
“Nevertheless, you are exercising a monopoly
which in this republican country is not admissi
ble.”
“But I insist that you acquit me of any in
tention to offend.”
"Why you must not look so killingly-boauti
ful.” J
“Go to Nature, then, with your complaint.”
“Seriously, though, we are unwilling you
should enjoy all of Mr. Hampton’s conversation,
however willing we may be to share it with
you.”
“Will you not address yourself to him?’’
“Where’s the use? You are the siren by
whose charms he is induced to forget the rest of
us.”
“As he is a gallant gentleman, Mrs. Holmes,
he will certainly listen to any suggestion coming
from a lady.”
Not while within the sphere of your influ
ence will he listen to aught save your dulcet
tones.”
w J fP 1 s°ry I interfere with your enjoyment,
Mrs. Holmes.”
“It is not myself alone, Miss Morton; but in
the name of the company I protest against mo
nopolies.
Uncle Charley had been playing with hi ß
watch chain during this conversation. At last
he rose, actually yawning.
“And I also,” said Uncle Charley, “beg leave
to enter a protest It is against being called by
the name of a beast, and against being interrupt
ed in a conversation so interesting as that in
which I was engaged.”
And he sauntered off to the other side of the
room. If Mrs. Holmes was a little astonished at
the freezingly polite manner in which Mr. Hamp
ton had replied to her first inquiry, the reader
can well imagine the nature of her surprise at
the rudeness of his last words. It was only
paying her back in her own coin, however; but
for some days, after this little incident, the two
notorieties avoided each other.
CHAPTEB XI.
Various were the means of amusement resort
ed to by the guests at Hopeton. Never, per
haps, were hosts better acquainted with the va
rious methods of killing time than my parents.
All of the ladies and gentlemen assembled at
our house were fond of riding on horse back,
and scarcely an evening passed that some of them
were not scouring the surrounding country on
the noble steeds which were the pride of my
father’s stables.
One evening Uncle Charley stole off from the
company to enjoy a solitary ride. • Generally ho
accompanied the ladies; but some whim seized
him on that particular day, and he went off
alone, at a rather earlier hour than usual. Later,
nearly all of us mounted horse for a gallop; Mrs.
Holmes, as it happened, being again attended by
Ed. Morton. She was a most accomplished
horse-woman, and did not hesitate to essay the
most fiery of our “bits of blood.”
I was frequently rendered uneasy by her dar
ing freaks, and endeavored to prevent her from
riding very wild horses. On this particular
evening, though, I was thinking of other matters,
and Hick, the groom, brought out a young horse,
recently purchased, of which I knew nothing,
for Mrs. Holmes’ use.
■ Pretty soon wo were strung out at considera
ble intervals; fho foremost couple—Mrs. Holmes
and Morton, being a long way ahead of us all.—
We filed along through a beautiful wooded road,
and finally came to a large un-enclosed plain, on
one side of winch was a slight margin of trees,
standing on the very brink of a precipitous bank
at the foot of which ran a creek—creek, bank
and all, lying hidden from view by said trees.
Suddenly Mrs. Holmes’ horse became frightened,
and growing perfectly ungovernable, dashed off
at a furious rate right towards the precipice.—
Had he kept straight on, in the open field, I
should have felt little apprehension, knowing
the lady’s equestrian skill, and feeling assured
she would be able, finally, to take him up. As
it was, I sat on my horse paralyzed with fear as
I saw the mad brute rushing blindly to certain
destruction.
I saw that he would reach the bank long be
fore I could overtake him, and for that reason I
made no effort. Ed. Morton did what he could
to check the horse, galloping along and snatch
ing at the bridle, but all his efforts seemed to
have only the effect of farther frightening the al
ready desperate animal. The ladies of the par
ty saw the danger and screamed with apprehen
sion.
1 had given up all hope, expecting to see Mrs.
Holmes die a horrible death. I6he was not aware
of the existence of the creek and bank, or she
would have thrown herself from her horse, risking
broken bones,rather than face certain destruction.
Just at this time, while her horse was bonudmg on
like lightning, I saw a horseman galloping at
full speed, toward the line in which Mrs. Holmes
was riding. It was Uncle Charley, and as I
recognized him, I drew a deep sigh, of relief, for
I knew that he would do everything that mortal
was capable of, to stop the horse.
Mrs. Holmes also recognized him, and had an
instinctive idea that he would risk his life in an
attempt to save her. She afterwards declared
that she almost resolved to die, rather than owe
her safety to him. She jerked her steed with all
her might, hoping to check him sufficiently to
enable her to leap to the ground; but it was too
late, for Uncle Charley crossed the path a little
ahead, pulled his horse short up, swung himself
from the saddle and seized the bridle of the
frightened animal ridden by the lady.
The horse was so near the ravine, I thought he
would plunge in, carrying Mrs. Holmes and Uncle
Charley both. As it was, the latter was lifted
clear from the ground and dragged forward
several paces; but ho finally succeeded in arrest
ing the struggling beast, on the very verge of
the precipice—tho very brink of destruction—
and threw him back on his haunches.
“Gallantly done!” shouted Morton, while
Uncle Charley held tho still trembling and
frightened horse.
“I will leave you now, Mrs. Holmes,” again
said Edgar, “ since you are in such gallant
hands.”
“Oh, I beg you will not, Mr. Morton,” exclaim
ed the lady, actually bursting into tears.
“Hut before you go,” said Uncle Charley, “you
will surely assist Mrs. Holmes to dismount from
this wild horse.”
“Oh, no I” said Mrs. Holmes, pulling at the
reins, “I entreat you to allow me to rejoin the
company.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Holmes,” replied Uncle
Charley, “on the honor of a gentleman, this ani
mal is unsafe. Let me put your saddle on my
horse which is as gentle as a dog.”
“ Mine is over his fright now. ”
“ You are mistaken. See how ho trembles.
When I have placed you on my gentle horse, I
will leave you, since my very presence seems
hateful. ”
“ Now you are mistaken, ” said Mrs. Holmes,
her voice choking with emotion.
“I am certainly de trop," said Ed Morton.
“ Let me help you down, Mrs. Holmes, and their
I must go. None but tho brave deserve the fair,
and Mr. Hampton has most bravely rescued
you from the very jaws of death. See that pre
cipice, down which your horse was about 4o
plunge. ”
“It seems then,” said Mrs. Holmes “you
both are anxious to desert me. Was ever a lady
so treated ? ”
“To him who is most anxious to remain, ”
said Mr. Hampton, “and who would gladly de
vote liis life to your service, you give no per
mission to stay. ”
“Oh! I am grateful to you both; to you, Mr.
Hampton, for saving my life, and to you, Mr.
Morton, for endeavoring to do so. It was not
your fault that you could not got far enough be
fore to stop my horse.”
“I take no credit to myself,” was tho reply;
though it was true, that it was not for lack of
nerve, that Ed. failed to do what Uncle Charley
did, but for the very reason stated by Mrs.
Holmes.
By this time wo all rodo up, and entreated
Mrs. Holmes to make tho exchange offered by
Uncle Charley. Finally she consented.
“I am in disgrace now,” said Ed. Morton, as
ho galloped off, “and am going home."
The party mounted and rodo back toward tho