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Southern Field and Fireside. VOL. 1. [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] GOOD-BYE FOB ANNIE LEE. . I Good-bye, fair Annie —thou art sad That wo are parting now, t I mark and prize the kindly gloom, - That clouds thy bright young brow. Thou'lt keep—it promises— tbou'lt keep For me some little spot Within thy heart, to write a name 1 would not have fiygot 1 Tet well I know how brief a while That transient cloud will stay, How soon bright smiles will from thy brow , Chase the light cloud away. A, day—a day or two, perhaps— Thou’lt feel I am not here: A day or two, my aoice may aeem Sometimes to greet thine ear. A book—a flower—a song I’ve loved, A few abort week« may be, Enough to keep my name above Oblivion''s wavelet* tea. Tet, well I ween, ere the first note Os summer bird is heard, Thy “lips" will long have ceased to ‘••peak’’ “ That” now *• familiar word." Still, gentle Annie, ere I go,* My parting wishes hear— Forever be thy fato as bright As thou art good and fair ! For'theeeach day come crowned with joys, . Jutt noi “ too bright to last,” - And never be an angry clunJ Athwart thy pathway cast Kavisswood. H. —■—- [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] i Entered according to the Actof Congress, dr., &c., by the Author. 1 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN; OR, r A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS, WHO WAS KUINF.D BY BAD LUCK. BY TUB AUTIIOK OF THE GEORGIA SCENES, ETC. CHAPTER XII —COXTXUED. . With all his expenditures he had taken care to reserve money enough, as he supposed, to spend a few days in Morristown, a week in New ark, and a week in New York, without exhaus ting his funds. At the commencement of his sixth week of the vacation, he set out for Mor ristown. Here lived a class-mate of his, who insisted upon his spending a week with him. — Mitten consented. A round of parties ensued, , all of which he attended, and at all of which he played havoc with the hearts of the girls of Mor ristown. From his classmate the report soon spread through the village, that he was the first scholar in his class, and immensely rich. These things couspiring with his fine person, graceful manners, and agreeable conversation, made him absolutely irresistible. Now there happened to be in Morristown at this time, a young lady from South Carolina, of the Bethlehem School, who ■ was spending her vacation with a relative of the village, or rather making Morristown her head quarters for the vacation. Her name was Lou isa Green, she was behind Miss Ward in noth ing, and one hundred thousand dollars ahead of her in point of fortune. Miss Green and Mr. Mitten being both from the South, naturally formed a strong partiality for each other; of course it did not amount to love on William's part, but ■ it amounted to love palpably, on Louisa’s part. As she was from the south, William felt himself ’ bound to pay her particular attentions. Accor dingly he did all that ho could to make her time pass agreably during his stay in Morristown. — He could but observe the tokens of her favor, and they awakened in him a tender compassion. She had appointed to visit a school-mate in Elizabethtown, five days after the time when he 1 was to leave for Newark. He offered to wait and accompany her. This threw him five days longer on his friend’s hospitality, than ho con tracted for, but he was welcome. Sfie ac cepted his offer thankfully. They went—he was Introduced' to her young friend, who pre vailed ugpn him to spend two or three days in Elizabethan. He consented—parties com menced on tv e second day after his arrival, and were kept up v»[th but short intervals for nine days. ThescenCW Morristown were renew ed. He had set evWday for the last six, for leaving Elizabethtow\but something or other always delayed his cSnarture. The school mates of Elizabethtown pained a visit to a third, in New York, fora few dayV As this jumped with William’s plans exactly,Nmd promised to make his visit to New York infinite- I ly beyond his anticipations, he pronged to ac company the young ladies. They aa*mted his proposition with pleasure. It required three v days to prepare the young ladies for tlieitron templated trip, and these embraced the ope nig of the college term. Time had run off so merri. I JAMES GARDNER, i Proprietor. j AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1859. ly that he had not kept count of it, and he was thunderstruck when a question put to him about the college, reminded him that the term opened on the day before ho was to leave with his fair companions for New York. What was he to do ? Violate his pledge to the young la-' dies? That would never do. He determined to conduct them to New York, and hasten on to College. When he came to settle up his bills in Elizabethtown, he was thun derstruck again; they were four times as large as he anticipated, and in counting up his cash, he found that he had barely enough left to take him to New York, and back to Princeton. The ladies were delayed a day beyond the appointed time by some accident. Mr. Mitten was in tor ments. It was certain that his funds would give oiit before he reached Princeton; and here in a land of strangers, what was he to do ? In this emergency, itbad just occurred to him that ho had been very remiss in not paying his re spects to Mr. Beach, and he concluded to spend a part of the spare day with this kind friend.— Mr. Beach hardly knew him when he presented himself at his door, so changed was lie in every thing. After a visit of an hour, “ Mr. Beach ” said William, “I have been out spending the vacation, and my expenses have been so much heavier than I expected, that I have got out of money; could you favor me so far as to loan me thirty dollars, and I will give you au order on Mr. Sanders for the amount, or I will send it to you as soon as I get back to college.” “Certain ly, William,’’ said Mr. Beach, “I will Jake the order, and if yofi pay it when you get to college, I will send it to you." The money was loaned, and William returned to Elizabethtown rejoi cing. On their way to New York he suggested to Miss Green that the college term had opened and that on the day after their arrival in New York, ho would be compelled to return to col lege. She expressed her regrets that they must part, probablv never to meet again, but hoped that they would>enew their acquaintance, after their return home. William proposed a friendly correspondence ad interim. She said she could could not promise that, as the pupils of her school were forbidden to correspond with young gentlemen; but if he choso to write to her she had no objections. On their arrival in New York, the news greeted them, ,s thaton the even ing of the next day two of the greatest tragedi ans of the age were to appear in the principal parts of Shakspeare’s Othello. William had never seen a play acted by professed performers and “as he had overstayed his time any how, and one day more could not make much differ ence” he determined to prolong his visit that far, and take the ladies to the theatre. He pro cured tickets for the three young ladies, but as tho father of the one whom the oftiers were vis iting, choose to accompany them all to the thea tre. and furnish tickets himself William had two on hand either to use or throw away at his option. He was transported with the perfor mance. Hamlet was announced for the next niglrt; but as the ladies declined going to the theatre two nights in succession, he went alone. Macbeth was announced for the next night; and as all the girls must see this play, they went as before; William accompanying. The day follow ing he left for Princeton, and reached there with just seventy-five cents in his pocket. His classmate of Morristown ( Johnson by name) brought down- his history to his depar ture from that village. “He went off” said Johnson, after a beautiful accomplished South Carolina heiress, worth a cool hundred thousand in cash, with kinky-heads according; and he has only .to streeh out his hand to her and she’ll sijatcli at it; for every body sees that she is over head and ears in love with him, as indeed all the girls in Morristown are; for Bill is death among the pullets. 1 ’ This repdtt mitigated the anxiety of his Georgian companions concerning him, but did not entirely relieve them; for they feared the consequences of William’s change of habits, not only upon his stand in College, but upon his future life. , We have said that he had four competitors for the first honor, but there was only one of them that he had cause to dread, for though the five were equal in mathematics, there was but one who approached him in the other stud ies. This one was Taliaferro (pronounced Toliver) of Virginia. When at the opening of the term, the class appeared to recite in mathematics, and Taliaferro found Mitten absent, his countenance kindled with delight. His delight increased with every recitation in this study, until it came to Alio fifth. Ashe retired from this he said tri umphantly, “ I’ve got him safe—l’ve got the brilliant young Georgian justas the owl had the hen, so that he can neither back nor squall.— With his head full of girls and fortune, if ever he keeps up with the class, and makes up five lost lessons, he is a smarter man than I think he is, and I think ho is the smartest fcever saw.” — Taliaferro thus spoke because he well knew that a lost recitation in mathematics is almost as fatal to farther progress in the science, as the loss of one of the nine digits would be to enu meration. And yet if William had determined to do it, lie could have made up his deficiencies hefore'the end of the Junior year, and thrown Taliaferro far in his rear in the Senior year.— Why ho did not, we shall see. When called to account for his absences be said “he was neces sarily detained." Haring followed Mitten's movements during the vacation, let us now tlnvcil some of his thoughts and reflections accompanying these movements. “Here it is now,” mused lie on the fifth day ofhisacqUaintance with Miss Green. “If Amanda had not made me promise to keep our engagement secret, I could now tell Louisa of it, and let her understand’ the true ground of my attentions to her; but as it is, I must either be distant to her, which would be unpardonable in me as she is from the South; or I must en courage her attachment which is plainly visible and growing. Amanda will hear of ray atten tions through Johnson, and suppose I am after Louisa’s fortune. No, dear girl, fortune shall never make me sacrifice my word and my hon or.” * On the seventh day: “It was very indiscreet in Amanda to exact that promise from me, 1 don’t know how to act under it.” Ninth day: “Hang that silly promise! I’ll keep it, but I fear r shall never feel towards Amanda as I should have felt if she had not ex torted it from me. I was tod hasty in making it —in fact I was two hasty in the whole matter. Well, whatever may come of it, I shall not forego duty to a Southern friend, far from home, be cause I happen to be engaged.” On the day he visited Mr.-Beaeli: “Whitt a botheration it is to want rqoney!«—l doubt whe ther Amanda will ever be satisfied to live in Georgia. I wish she waanot quite so romantic. It was very imprudent, in Jyr to speak of her father and mother as she mb to me—l don't be lieve one can love truly but once; I believe I could love Louisa just as ardently as I love her, if I would allow myself to do so.” On the day he left New York: “One hun dred thousand dollars 1 I wish I had fifty of it now. What a sum it is 1 Kfiough to last a man’s life time, and satisfy every desire of his heart— One hundred thousand dolfers, and a beautiful intelligent lovely Southern girl to boot! Aman da ought to adore mo for rtsisiting such a temp tation for her sake.” On reaching Princeton, ke went immediately to see Amanda and found her in deep distress. She said “ she had been meditating suicide, but she could not leave the world without wne more last, longing, lingering look upon her William.” Upon his assuring her. however, that he was not engaged to Miss Green, that he had not pro posed himself to her, and that he would have informed her of his engagement, if he had not been forbidden to do so, Miss Amanda was greatly comforted, insomuch that she concluded to postpone the suicide to a more suitable sea son. She entertained him with a melting narra tive of her soliloquies and tears over breastpins, lockets, and the like, which, as it came just at the time when he was terribly pinched for mon ey, produced a double sympathy —or rather an oscillating sympathy, which played so equally between himself and Miss Amanda, that she could not understand it, and took it for coldness. They parted, however, with renewed profes sions of love. Markham, Thompson and Brown, had togeth er paid a short visit to Philadelphia, Trenton and Monmouth, early in the vacation and returned to PrinCeton. On their return, Brown enclosed a fifty dollar bill* in a letter to Mr. Markham, saying: “I have saved this much out of my al lowance without stinting myself in the least. — If yon think it would not be wrong to appro priate it to my mother’s necessities, please deal it out to her as she needs. Apply all of it but what is absolutely necessary to keep my mother above want, to the schooling of my two little sisters. But if you think that I have no right to use the money in this way, please return it to the kind gentlemen who raised it for me; and. tell themlhat it is more than I need, and I think in justice it ought to bo returned to them.” We need hardly say that this letter made John’s pat rons feel much more like doubling than reducing their contributions to him. From New York, William had written a letter to his mother, setting forth that he had greatly miscalculated, in saying that five hundred dol lars per annum would be amply sufficient to pay his College expenses. Traveling expenses, he said, far exceeded his expectations —that he had set out from Princeton on a vacation ramble, with money enough in hand, he thought, to pay his expenses three times over, and after visiting only three places, he was in New York with hardly enough to pay his reckoning, and get him back to Princeton; and there his board and tuition would have to be paid in advance. He concluded by begging her to send on two hun dred dollars as speedily as possible. Here was the very place for him to have informed his mo ther that he had borrowed money from Mr. Beach, and to have informed Mr. Sanders through her, how he came to draw on him. But he knew that it would mortify his mother exceedingly, to learn that he was repaying Mr. Beach’s kindness by taxing his purse : and he intended to stop the draft from going ttf the drawee, by payment •At this time Jersey bank bill* were just »s current in Georgia ss gold and silver. The first one dollar Mil that ever was seen in Georgia was irorn a Jersey bank. of it. Brown’s letter had a fortnight or more the start of William’s, and its contents were known to every body in the village in three days after it had reached Mr. Markham. When Wil liam’s letter therefore reached home, it alarmed and distressed his mother exceedingly. She j gathered the money as soon as she possibly could, j (borrowing a part of it) aud dispatched it to Wil- | ' liam, with a letter eloquently expressive of her | feelings. “ How is it, my dear boy,” said she, I “that John Brown, with his limited resources, j can visit Philadelphia, Trenton and Monmouth, j and yet send hither fifty dollars out of his in come, to assist his poor mother, and school his little sisters ; and you cannot visit as many pla ces without exhausting your funds and requir ing two hundred dollars over?” The whole let ter would fill every reader's eyes with, tears ; but we have not time aud space for it here. By the shortest possible course of mail, William \ could not receive an answer to his letter in less ! than a month from its date. In the meantime he | must be shut out of Coilege, if he could not raise j the tuition fees at least His only recourse was j to borrow. He went to his cousin David, who j loaned him fifteen dollars, all “ he had over,” as | the merchants say. He went to Markham, and he loaned him twenty, saying “ this is all I have, but go to Brown, I know he has over fifty dol lars, for we compared notes when we got back to College.” He went to Brown and asked the loan of fifteen dollars. “ William,” said Brown, “ I would loan it to you with a great deal of pleasure, but I have it not—here are three dol lars, all I’ve got, which you are welcome to, if it will be of any service to you.” William looked on him furiously, and said—“ Brown, if I don’t raiso fifteen dollars, I can't get back into Coi lege. and I know you have that much, and three times that much.” “ William, I give you my word and honor I have but three dollars in the world. How can you suppose that I would not loan it to you if I had it ? If there’s any thing I have, by sale of which you can raise the amount, go take it and sell it, with all my heart It William wheeled off in a rage, and hastened to Thompson and Markham, saying “ Who could believe it possible, that John Brown would see me shut out of college, rather than loan me fi£ teen dollars 1 He says he has but three dollars in the world ” “John Brown says so!” exclaimed the two. “ Come," said Thompson, “let’s go and bring him face to face.” Away they went, and Brown seeing them coming turned pale as a sheet. “ Look at his countenance,” whispered William. “John Brown,” said Thompson, “ did you tell cousin William that you hadn’t fifteen dollars in the world ?” ' | J 1 Yes, and I told him the truth ” “ Didn’t you tell George Markham and myself that you brought back from your travels money enough to pay tuition and board, and leave you over' fifty dollars in hand ?” “Yes I did; but I have disposed of fifty dol lars of it." “ How did you dispose of it ?” “ I do not wish to tell, but in away that all of you would approve of if I were to tell you—ln deed, I do not know myself as yet, how it went tt * “ Did you ever hear such chat," said William, “ from any body but an idiot since you were born 1 Disposed of .it as we all would approve, and does’nt know himself how he disposed ot it!” - -■ The boys wheeled off indignantly. “ Stop, boys,” said Brown, with streaming eyes, “ and I will explain ” “ AVe want no explanations, sir,” said AVil liam. “ Dig a mole out of the dirt and stick him on a steeple, and he’ll be a mole still.” No pen can describe John’s agony. He saw himself deserted by the sous of his benefactors —he knew that they all believed that he had lied, and he knew that before the morrow’s sun, it would be trumpeted all through the College that the bright Mitten was kept from his class by his meanness. In the midst of his horrors, the bell summoned him toreeitation. The class was ar ranged alphabetically, and his name was the first on the list. The Professor called on him ; he rose, tried to suppress his but could not; and he resumed his seat, his bosom heaving, and his eyes streaming as though his heart would break. The class stood aghast, and the Professor looked sad ; for Brown had not been remiss in a single College duty. Keen as was his anguish, it would have been aggravated heavily, but for George Markham’s prudence. “ Boys,” said he, “ it isn’t worth while to spread this thing through the College ; at least let us wait awhile before we do it. Remember that he is a Georgian, has been our intimate friend, and it will be flung up to us upon all oc casions. And after all, I never knew John Brown to tell a lie in my life, and he may be en abled to explain the matter.” After some debate they agreed to keep the mat ter to themselves. That very day John received tidings of his father’s death, and as no body thought of enquiring as to the precise time when he received the intelligence, it was regarded by the class as the cause of his emotion in the reci tation room, and by his three friends as an addi- 1 — 3^ j Two Dollar* Per Annum, I | Always In Advance. | tional inducement to deal tenderly wi£>yv,j m Thompson borrowed the fifteen dcliars ffvwji. liam, and he joined his class. Thus stood matters when Mrs. Mitten’s lettb. was received. As soon as William read it, lies, hastened to Thompson and Markham's room \ with it, handed it to liis cousin, flung himself ; into a seat, dropped his forehead, hands-covered ,on his knees, and wept bitterly. Thompson read it, and passed it in sobs to Markham. He was not so much affected, and spoke first : "The Lord be praised that we kept our no tions of John’s conduct from the college. Why this, and our coldness, and his father’s death all coming upon him at once, would have killed the poor fellow. He’s almost heart-broken, any how. What a warning is this to us against acting hastily in such matters 1 Let us send for him, and relieve both him and ourselves immediate ly." He was sent for, and as soon as he enter ed the room, they all rushed to him and em braced him together. “Oh, John,” continued Markham, “we know what you did with your fifty dollars, and we aro all ashamed of our selves.” “John,” said William, “I beg your pardon ten thousand times—” “And L” “And I.” "John,” said William, “how-could you say, you didn't know as yet how your money went?” “ Because T didn’t know that it would bo right in me to take money raised for my education, and apply it to the use of my mother and sisters; so I sent it to Mr. Markham and told him, if he thought I had no right to use it in this way, to return it to the gentlemen who raised it for me, and I don't know which woj- it went even now; for Mr. Markham said nothing to me about it in the letter reporting my father’s death.” “John,” continued William, “I never shall forgive myself for my treatment of you. I had some apology for suspecting you of insincerity, but I had none for that vile, unfeeling, brutal re mark of mine—” “ What remark, William ?” “ About the mole. ” “ I didn't hear that.” “You didn’t! Thank heaven, that you did not, but it’s none fho less mean on that account." William paid the sums borrowed and his board; and now the merchants, tailors, shoe makers and jewelers began to press him. They always press at the opening and close of terms, becauso students are then commonly full hand ed ; but they had other reasons for pressing.in this instance. The balance of his two hundred dollars, save fifteen reserved, went in less than a fortnight, without paying more than fifty cents on the dollar of his debts. Youth-like, he thought more of the annoyances of creditors than of their respective claims upon his honor, and Mr. Beach was postponed to the raoßt ra venous.* Some of these, all of whom understand well the art of milking students, said “that they were not in the habit of crediting students, but that every body represented Mr. Mitten as such a brilliant, high-minded, rich and honorable young man, that they would have trusted him for half their goods.” Others said, “that rely ing certainly upon payment at this time, they had contracted debts on the faith of it, and if disappointed, they did not know what was to become of them.” Another said, “If Mr. Mit ten couldn’t pay him all, he would be veiy glad to get half the amount due, to keep his wife and children from suffering.” Thus they went on with every variety of experiment upon his feel ings, until he began to think that his own char acter, the character of the South, and all Prince ton, were likely to sink together in one common grave of indiscriminate ruin. Most of Mr. Mitten’s debts had been contracted within the past three months, and many of the students, well posted in such matters, testified with becoming indigna tion, that such a thing was unheard of in the history of Princeton, as dunning students for debts but three months old; and two or three proposed, in vindication of the time-honored usages of the place, to stone the windows of the importunate creditors; but Mr. Mitteri, partly from the lights of Mr. Markham’s counsels, and '/ partly from his own good sense, opposed all /. violent measures, as he could not see how could sustain his credit or cancel his deKs. / But there were two specialties, which the creditors: the one was, that Mr. Miwenha'.l promised to pay them at the opening trtm, and the other was, that Miss Ajj/“fi a > either from love of truth, or the truth p/«ve, had cor rected the popular opinion of/**- Mittens vast wealth, and represented hii/yP O, J “ 1S own au * thority, as not only not ygv nc *** but very poor. The torments of credit/® abated considerably the rapture with wb/ Mr- Mitten was wont to view the ornament/ 6 *" Miss Ward s person, in terfered with hia/udies, and set his thoughts to running no/ filthy lucre. He commenced his friendlvytrespondence with Mias txrecu.— His first k«cr was exceedingly mendly. He waited tie proper time for an answer, but re ceivedAone. He wrote another, still more friei/ji but received no answer. He wrote an/her in the very agony of friendship. To this the following answer; “ All your letters have been received. They tam given ilia Principal ottto School great an .- ; • J F\ NO. 24, J