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QcE> J JAMES CAHMBB, > I Proprietor. f VOL. 3. > ■ lll HI 1.1 I I II I I I I ■■- [For the Southern Field and Ftreelde.] SOSO. * *■ " * bt iimiutiL - I'nr thinking of thee,dearest, In the stilly winter night, , y'* When the glisteang troat is forming. •/ q And stain an twinkling bright; And when my spirit crosses f To tha shady shore of sleep. It bears thee in Its arms love, Across the wetersdeep, I'm thinking of thee, dearest. When the riding sun doth wait For the rosy-ttngered morning , To ope her pearly gate, Whap In his flaming chariot He ascends foe azure sky, I'm thinking of thee still, »weet, I’m wishing thou wert nigh. A , I'm thinking of thee, d-Ssrcst, Sw When the West i« all aglow With the purple, gold,and crimson, Os snnsct’e overflow. * When twilight shadows gather In the forest and the glen. I'm thinking of thee, darling, } I'm sighing for thge then. UtV.tpntHint, J fin., Dec. ISSI. . « L [For the Southern Field and FtiesMt.l , ALLENDALE. i>amezT»n to misa rlsaflt W«,k or wru-m-Kx. ■ i. by mus. aiid ?, franklin. IIR. Van Allan had not'given Arabella any [ ifi reason for sending Charles off, more then the ‘ one he had given Charles, but she was well Saw ( isfled after the first few days. Sbe thought a good deal of him at first, and often wondered why he loved her so much, and made himself f so unhappy about-her. She said to herself, ‘‘lt is mudh better for him to go to college, he may >. become quite distinguished in four years, and I , may be very proud to merry him if I ever want | to marfy any one.” • • Arabella thought sbe had net acted wrong in i promising to marry him, for she loved him more than a'ay other boy, and she would doubtless like hoc a great deal more when he returned j from college. She corresponded with him for some time with S was not sorry one day to hear her father say : “ Belle, I rarely ever ask to see oneof your letters, but seeing you burn your cousin’s as soon as you read them has excited my curiosi , ty. I want to read them sometimes.” jf “You may read them hereafter: Ido not think they will interest you much. I think he j* writes more interesting ones to yon than te « me." 'I When Belle wrote again she took pains to inform her cousin of her father's request, and of her promise. She did this because she really wished him to write about something besides love. He, as she expected, wrote a letter par rticularly for her father’s eye. After that, when he wrote of love it was al- J ways on a separate slip of paper. She took L care not to write any in return, q Mr. Crawford felt sure that the girls progress -1 ed much more rapidly after Charles left. They improved in everything except music. Matilda was growing careless, so much so that Mr. Van Allen, without dismissing her entirely, employ- K ed another teacher to come to the house reg ularly every day and give them lessons upon r 1 the Piano and Harp. It was expected that Ma tilda would rebel at this, but she was more $ pleased than otherwise, and soon proposed giv f ing them up altogether to the new teacher, so 4 that she might assist Mrs, Van Allen in sowing and at other work. But Matilda would not do much of anything; like all persons whose. P minds have no certain pursuit to fix and re strain them, sbe was restless and dissatisfied - She was engaged in numerous occupations and . yet accomplished nothing. She verified the si truth of Martial’s epigram, “ Quisquvs uLiquc > habitat, maxime, nilsquam habitat He that is every where is no where, r One day she visited, the Dext she was ab sorbed in some History or Philosophy she was ft ’ going to study; tho next it was some fancy work, the last of which she seemed most to de jj light in,but she could not work long enough at L one piece to accomplish much. Every day she \ wa3 becoming more disagreeable. Mr. Van f Allen was almost tempted at times to tell her . that sbe ought to be dependant upon her own r exertions for a support, in order that her labors might be more concentrated and her mind un it (for Jietter discipline. She annoyed Mrs. Van Allen more than she assisted her. She disgusted o Mr. Crawford with her poetry and sentimental- I ism, and sbe often excited anger in the girls by persisting in believing herself as young as ? they, and therefore at liberty to act and dress . just as they did. The secret of it was : Matil f ' da needed some one to love her, for that at last is what constitutes woman’ happiness. *lt is ii not to have a splendid home where tall colums * rise and silvery fountains play; or to be deck el ed- in jewels and all of art's cqptly array; for too i often do costly domes hide fading forms, and brilliant gems press upou throbbing, brows. It f is not wealth and luxury that can bring happi ness to woman’s, heart: neither can she find f happiness in fame and worldly applause. She may spurn earth and soar aloft to the home of i genius; unroll the mighty chart of science and r revel amid the glories of literature; the laurel u wreath may crown her brow, while the cypress i covers.her heart; but her spirit will weary of high thoughts, weary of praise, and in loneli ? * ness pine for a happiness that wealth and fame can never give. Introduce her into scenes of Y pleasure, tho opera, the dance, and every other A place where mirth and joy reign supreme—he ” may have all these pleasures, and yet there is ?» an “ aching void” which these alone can never W satisfy. They are pleasures that only ripple the surface, the lower depths are not stirred. Deep ‘Once before published by the anther in the Crusader. AUGUSTA, GA„ SATURDAY. FEBRUARY 8, 1862. down in the heart is a Moved niche that dan . never be filled by such things. Sbe may have a lovely seat where rosea and jessamines twine, blend their bright colors and perfume the eve ning breeze; where tbe woods are full of mer ry songetery, and running streams that make music all the day. Sbe may be surrounded by every thing that can gratify tbe outward sen ses, but if love dwell not there she cannot be happy; all other pleasures are but as dead sea f-uits, turning to ashes when tasted. Truly is an unloved woman a social mon strosity. She cannot know happiness, for love •alone can make her happy; naught else stirs the deep fountain of her soul. Without love she withers and droops; life becomes a blank nothing cap please her long. She sees every thing through a darkened medium. In vain she seeks for happiness from other sources ; unmixed with love every other fountain is but as the waters of Mirah to her thirsty soul. Throw around her earth’s costliest gifts ; give her wealth, fame, friends, but no one heart to love and prize aboge all others; no one on whom sho can pour the full libations of her soul; and you make her life a wilderness, full of nnfnuUulness. An weU might one attempt to gratify the let tered prisoner fay beautiful paint fogs if tbe “ loved things that his prison walls hide from bis sigjit, as think -to satisfy with'wealth and fame, mirth and pleasant scenes, tbe head of an un loved woman. Qive bet the love of one heart that she prizes and she can defy the world; that love shall ever be anamulet, guarding her from despair. Without this love she is “ Like seme lone, neglected lute, Whose sweetest chords are mute.” • ' if? CHAPTER XIX glide rapidly away. Anabella and Olivia are now accomplished young ladies.— .■‘gfcio young,” Mr. Van Allen shys, “to enter thegay world, but he bis persuaded into giving iliem a large party, for they bavo lived some what secluded, mingling but little in soeioty.— It was getting time to allow them to abandon books for awhile and learn somethiug from so ciety. All the young people of Wotumpka, and many of thp old, were Invited to Allendale, to enjoy the New Year’s party given to Miss Van Allen aod Miss Coqxy. It was a pleasant nuriit for that season, and the parlors as weft as halls nnd sitting rooms were crowded. Mrs. Van Allen had allowed the girls to display their own taste and Judgment in their dress. Anabella wore a plain white silk, trimmed with soft blond about the waist and sleeves, which were cut so „ „ •ayjgaragag.siss a. trimmed with geranium leaves and one single scarlet flower. A pin with pearl a tiny watch and chain, was all her jewelry. The contrast between this dress and Olivia, made each appear moro beautiful. You would look at Belle and say, “ How sweet, how exquisitely elegant;” at Olivo and say, “Superb, magnifi cent,” for she had selected a cherry-colored silk with heavy black lace flounces; tho bodice aud sleeves were cut like Belle’s,but the bodice was covered with black tulle, which came up close around the throat, and was secured there by a showy gold necklace. The short silk sleeves were covered by long flowing ones of the black tulle and lace, thin enough to show to advan tage the gold clasps and their brilliant white sets, with which the silk sleeves wore looped. Her arms were adorned with bracelets, and her head-dross was a showy affair, mafia of black lace and crimson crape flowers, looped up and linked together with a massive gold chain and numerous showy pins, which Mrs. Van Allen had allowed her to take from some old fashion ed family jewelry. Each flounce of her dress was slightly looped at the sides with boquets of crape flowers, like those in her head-dress— This dress displayed to advantage her tall and elegant form, and added a charm to the dark wild beauty of her face. She was extravagant ly gay, laughing and talking with every body, regardless of introductions. Fearless and in dependent, she wandered about from one crowd to another, seeming to think if she created a laugh or said somethiug to excite surprise and astonishment, that she had done her part towards entertaining the guests. That my reader may have a better knowledge of her, and also see how little she has changed from the little, wild Olive Cooxy of the past, we will follow her to the little crowd near the piano. Bell and Miss Wilburn, an intellectual looking girl, are entertaining three of the most distinguished men in the house. Olivia listened awhile to their conversation. She did not-know what subject was under discussion, but she heard Bell say, seemingly in reply to some re remark : “ Yes, I believe that has been the process universally followed by great teacliers, and it seems very natural first, to doubt, theu to enquire, aud then to diseover.” Olive had to turn a moment to speak to some one and lost the reply. When she listened again one of the gentlemen was saying: “ Just so; you will flud all persons who are wholly unacquainted with physical law 9, very apt toattributeany singular phenomena to some superuatural agency.” Another said: “ Certainly: all superstitious may be attribu ted to the defieiences of science. Wherever our researches have been extensive enough to in vestigate the causes of different phenomena we cease to look upon them as supernatural.” Here Olivia laughingly exclaimed : “ Souls alive ! can’t you all find nothing more interesting to talk about at a party than the progress of knowledge ?” One of the gentlemen replied : “Is not that an interesting theme ? Come, tell us what you think of tho progress cf knowledge.” “Idon’t believe in it; I often sigh for the good old times of ghosts and fairies. I believe in all the old stories and theories that you pro gressive people pretend to despise and dis believe. What harm can it do to believe that Kemus and Romulus were nursed by a wolf? It is interesting to think about, and why should we grow so wise as to discard it when it has been credited for so maDv generations. I like old myths and fables, and I can’t see but what they do as much good as your stern facts. I think I shall be just al ha*»iand get through life juat, as well to btieve \_Jhe old Olympian gods, f admire Juf#r, the great monarch of Olympus, who was r*ked in a golden cradle ; | fed«n ambrosia broiwt by pigeons from the ocean ; or nectar driw» from the rocks by an eagle. Just think ofjfis having all power over the thunder aud full of wisdom tliat ttreave birth to Minerva. : the goddess of wisdojji and skill. I admire his brethefs Pluto and lijptune, one a god of the j sea and the other or the infernal regions.— Pluto I particularly ajnire—there is something grand and gloomy Mfo u t him and his realm, Hades, that dark plai* where the dead wander j about, and where ftojs that awful river that 1 they cross with old uharon. I like all these things better than lit your Chriatiau, system of religiop, that is n»Nng more than an old woman's tale such aa nurses friglitou children with, ar.d” , Just at that moo) nt Olivia saw that Mr. Crawford had quielljj Dined the erowd ( and was listening at tier e.\t ; vagant speech. She at once stopped, strata id out her tongue, aud stretched her eyes o» the crowd a second, and then hurried off to nother room, where she enjoyed a hearty lauj i. Sbe saw Mr. Crawford making his way to h r through tho crowd and she hastily stepped tb ough a half-closed blind, which opened on the verandah. There were several gentlemen onLie front verandah smok ing and talking poljra, but on this side she only noticed one pelon standing off by him self. She, in her Arless, independent way, walked us to him tolee who he might be. He spoke ana she start* back. It was James Danvers. ’ " Heaveusi bow (Arne you here?” she ex claimed. 1 My feet brougbif me; do you suppose I could let my star shit so brightly to-nightMnd I not como to gaze cm the light?” “ But I am aatonifced at you, for you were not invited.” T “ Pretty good evi»nee that you care nothing for hie, or else you \4uld havo invited me." “ You know welUpough that I had not the privilege of iuvitingwho I pleased, tmless un cle should have atroved of my choice of guests, besides I cfc not dare to talk about you." “ And why not —lecause *6B a boy I acted foolish? lam a gejfiemau now'and deserve to be treated as suojt" v „ Then you can casltl' gain admittance to the house by getting seme geutleman who visita here to introduce yah to uncle as a gentleman; wby do you not doabatf “ Because I dong choose to visit a man’s house when I have/cnce been insulted by him. YQu uugtiv hut J .Bohyve. ufave, you are getting proud of your high station and would be glad to break off from me. You have forgotten that you are engaged to mo.” " Pshaw ! as to that engagement I don’t care a snap for it. I just engaged myself for fun, and if you are not more careful I will broak it off sure enough.” “ Olive, how cau you talk so to one who has loved you so long? You know that I would do anything in the world for you. I have always made myself a slave for you, and I come to night on purpose to tell you I have just come into possession »f a fortune, and I want you to share it with mo." “ Well, quit talking about my beiug proud and forgetful then, aud you had best leave now before you are discovered. I will walk down to the lulls some evening, and meet you there." “ I will bo there next Friday, then. Step up here where it is lighter and let mo see how you look, then I will go.” Just as they got opposite the door Mr. Craw ford stepped out, and said: “Whore have you beon, Olivia? I was hunting for you. You will have to introduce your companion. Excuse me sir, but it is so dark I do not recognize you." “It is Jim Danvers, Mr. Crawford: you have heard of him if you have never seen him,” said Olivia quickly, for she did not care to deceive him, and perhaps, knew that she could not do so well. Mr. Crawford frowned and said in a chilling tone: “ I was not aware that there was suoh a per son as Jim Danvers among Mr. Van Allen’s guests. I believe I have not seen you in the parlors.” “ No, sir, and you are not likely to do so, as I am just about leaving and havo not yet been in." “I would advise you to leave at once,” said Mr. Crawford, as Danvers turned to go. Danvers reached the ground and then re plied : “And I advise Mr. Crawford to remember what he has said to me to-night, for I shall treasure it up against him.” Mr. Crawford did not reply, but taking Olivia by the hand, said : “ Come into the house, child. lam surpris ed that you should come here to talk to such a person.” “ I thank you, sir; I did not come here to talk to him.” Olivia said this with more temper than she ever displayed before Mr. Crawford. He no ticed that she was angry and wounded at what he had said, so to restore her temper he said, kindly: “ Forgive me for accusing you wrongfully, then. If Danvers came and intruded himself upon your notice be deserves punishment. I am glad I came out when I did." “ So am I, for I did not want him here.” “ Olive, will you show me to ask you a ques tion about him ?" “ Certainly, a dozen if you wish." “ Have you not seen that man occasionally since you havo been grown, and had some cor respondence with him ?” Olivia looked down and patted her foot im patiently. “ Let us go in then, I see you will not con fide in me,” said he in a tone of reproachful tenderness. “ Mr. Crawford, don’t be mad with me,” she cried, passionately. “ No, I will not be mad any more, I will have confidence in you: I will not believe that you act imprudently.” “ I have been imprudent, but Oh 1 Mr. Craw ford, it was more from a careless, reckless 1 spirit which I cannot help, than for any par ticular love for the man. I have corresponded with him a good deal more than you think, but I if you wish I will promise never to do so again, for I realty have no idea of doing so, even with permission.” i “ You are not in love with the man then ; tell me the plain truth, child, I will love you : better for it.” . “ Indeed. I do not love him, I wish to heaven ; I did.” “ 'What! wish that you did love him?” “ Yes; it would be far better than loving the j one I do.” “ Than loving the one you do 1 Why, who ' can you love ?” She made no reply whatever. Mr. Crawford seemed lost in thought, and then going near her said: “ Olive you do not love Charles Bealsor, do you ?" Olivia burst into a forced laugh, and saying, '■ no, indeed,” stepped iuto the house, leaving Mr. Crawford to form his own conjectures as to her lover. He scarcely knew whether to at tach any importance to what she had said or not, for she was so much accustomed to making rash assertions; he would have paid no atten tion to it if she had not spoken with such evi dent feeling. He was still leaning against one of the pil lars, thinking of Olivia, when Anabella, in her naturally low and gentle voice, said: “ Hero you are at last, why are you not at supper ? Nearly every one has been in, and I have been searching every where for you, be- i cause I nor pa had seen you.” “ Aud you found time to think of me amid all this galety. It would not have made much j difference if I bad missed supper, (or I do net | need any.” | “ Certainly, I found time to thiulc of you.— j I always think of you!” “ That is more than I deserve," be said in an agitated voice. She led him to her father, with the injunction that he should eat something of every thing good, while she returned to the parlors. But Mr. Crawford was satisfied withacup of coffbe, and ho ins'sted upon going hoiaMs soon as he finished it Mr. Crawford's mind was full of colliding and troubled thoughts that night as he walked homo. Once"or twice he grieved aloud, and as he shut himself in-he said ; “ Never, I will not think of ft. ' chapter xx. The moruing after the party Anabella was out early with with her father,, and talking ' about the enjoyment of the evening before, — . They saw Mr. 'jirastford.ju-biajcaifi. anfl-Jfir- Xan Allen proposed going in. She agreed at once. They were received with a pleasant smile. “ I hope you have uotcomo to breakfast with me,“ said Mr. Crawford, good humoredly, “for uiy cook is in bed quite sick, and I am likely to have a cold breakfast.” “ We will not help you eat it then,” said Mr. Van Allen. “ Belle and I were only walking aud stopped to speak to you. Our breakfast will be late as every ono about the house was. up quite late, so if you are only to have a cold breakfast you had best go back with us. But is your servant sick much ? lam a pretty good doctor, perhaps I can prescribe for her.” “Well, let us go aud seo her,Belle can go in the house and open the parlor by tbe time we return. They went around to tho kitchen, and Belle ran lightly up she steps and opened the parlor doyr. Mr. Crawford had already kindled a fire in this little, half parlor, half study, but the blinds were closed aud the room somewhat dis ordered, just as Mr. Crawford had left it when he stopped writing but the night before. She opened the blinds, and was about to put the room in order when a paper, which had blown off the table attracted her attention. She would have put it in the open portfolio had her eye not glanced at the words, “ I must not love her." They were the beginning to several stanzas of poetry, Written in Mr. Crawford’s hand. Belle thought if it was anything of im portance it would not have been lying so care lessly on the table, so sho began to read. Soon she leaned over it eagerly, her face glowiug with blushes and expressive of great surprise. And no wonder, for they were passionate, burning words of love and despair, which might have bgen wrung from a heart breaking with grief for a love that might not be confess ed . No wonder she should tremble and blush, for they told her, plain as he could havo done, that the author loved her; she could uot be mistaken, ho called her name: there it was— “ peerless Anabella, of Allendale," lie called her a child, his student, to whom lie dared uot whisper a breath of the wild passion, that one so old as he should be cursed for having allow ed to grow in his heart. There were also strange allusions to the past, of another love, of crime and deception—she could not fiuish tbe thrilling production. Even if .there had been no connection with herself in the lines, their wild pathos would have moved her to tears.— She threw it down and ran into the yard just before her father and Mr. Crawford came in. “ Why, Belle, I thought you were coming in,” said Mr. Crawford as lie walked to the porch. “ Thank God ! he docs not know I have ekes in,” she exclaimed mentally. She could not speak, but she held up a Hower she had broken hastily from a box of hyacinths near, j seeming to ask if she had done wrong in breaking it. By this time her father came out and they started home. Mr. Crawford declined goiug with them. Anabella was so silent that her father feared sitting up at parties would make her sick or dull. “Oh no, sir, it wont; I am very well this morning.’’ “ This early walk has given you a tine color. I don’t know that I ever saw you look so rosy; you and Olivia ought to take a walk or ride every morning before breakfast, it would do you good.” “ We have been talking about trying it, but it is difficult to get up earl; enough to take a long one." She forced heraelf to speak with' composure- I JTwo Dollar* Per Annum, I t Always In Aflvanet. I but she scarcely knew what she was saying, A [ and she was glad when they reached the house, J ; where breakfast was waiting. Mrs. Van Al- W fen’s first words were: '• “ Daughter, dissipation must agree with you, J what rosy cheeks you have this morning." ’ * “ It is the effects of my early walk." ] “ Or the blushes still lingering for the numer- It ous compliments paid her last night," said Ma tilda in a sarcastic manner, for Matilda felt very sour this morning. She had aot received so j much attention as the girls the night before, ' I notwithstanding her pink tatlton and white ribbons made her look quite gtriiah as she j| thought, so it was but natural sue should feel ill and sarcastic. Anabella did not feel in a hu mor to contend with her and made no reply. 1 Mr. Crawford did uot come over that morn ing, and Belle was glad of it; she spent the greater part of the day in the parlor, practicing, in order that she might forget if possible, what 4 she had seen that morning. It was late in the evening that, after making an unsuccessful ef fort to converse with her mother and Olivia, u she again sought the piano. They requested her jj to walk and she plead as an excuse that she was learning something new, but they had scarcely left the yard wheu she began playing V vigorously the “ Caliph of Bagdad.’’ more in . order to drown her own thoughts than for any pleasure the music gave her. Before she finish ed it Mr. Crawford walked in. She started ab- J ruptly from her seat, and then pale and tremb ling sank down again, ashamed of having be- J trayed so much emotion. k Mr. Crawford was pale and embarrassed too, and she soon (bit convinced that he knew she c had seen his poetry. He made several efforts , to speak td her, but he had been in the room f nearly ten minutes before he spoke a word ; i finally, he approached her and said : “‘I was mistaken, you did go in the parlor “ this morning, I found the blinds ell open. i “ ■Well,” she forced herself to say in a quiver ing voice. -4 “ And you found something there to displease J you; if I had not feared it before, yout manner j would have made me suspect something. I 1 know by these gathering tears, and those pain ful blushes, that something i 3 wrong. You J never met me in this way before. Tell me’ at once, Belie, if it is as I fear. Did you read A anything in there ?'' h. He could scarcely get the words out, for the proud strong man was choking with emotion, A wliiob was only increased by Belle’s manner, j for she dropped her head into her hands, and 4 then on the music board, and sobbed bitterly. “ Dear child, why should you weep; you I have done nothing wrong If you read the poe- “ try I left lying so carelessly. You were not J near so much to blame as 1 for writlgMupud h tt’utTßjr n—them. Tuu uut -reirt-niiljPtry-- 1 about yourself, did you not, Belle ?" c ‘•Yes, sir, but 0 Mr. Crawford, tell me it is not true ; 1 cauuot bear to tbiuk of such a I thing.” “ And I hoped you would never have to think of such a thing. It is a mere accident f that you have. I never intended to tell vou, for I want you to look upon me more as a' k father. Don’t tremble so child, let me talk to ' you. Do you think that if I had tho poser I r would wed such youth and beauty as thine to a gloomy old age liko mine? Never could I S do such a thing, not if you should give yourself a free will offering to my care; and I will not even allow myself to talk about anything sd im- * possible, so ridiculous, forget what you have , seen, bclieve-it a falsehood: I wonder you ever h attached any importance to it Do you not * know that people who write poetry indulge in J a great many extravagant fancies ? I loved . once when I was young, and now it is some times a pleasure to me to recall these things— imagine myself in love again, and write such J poetry as I imagine lovers write. Stop crying now, I am going borne aud you must go to your « room, and never think of this again." * J She did uot wait fora second bidding; lie i had scarcely finished when she sprang from -i him and ran to her room. It was well that she was crying so bitterly and so much that she J could not notice his face or bis tremulous 1 voice. She had never seen Mr.-Crawford so ] much excited; he had scarcely ever known r himself more so. He left the house and shut himself in his own parlor. Until a late hour at t night bo walked the tloor, lamenting his care* ™ lessuess, and roproaohing himself for bis folly, f and withal, struggling with the love he could not wholly repress. Olivia too, became a sub- t ject of painful thought. He remembored what she had said about one she loved, aud loved in vain. He trembled fob her, because lie knew l that the wild, passionate child could not love wisely or tamely. If she were disappointed > he dreaded the. consequences. He resolved to > see her soon and ascertain if there was any truth in what she had told him the night be fore. Several weeks elapsed before Mr. Crawford found a favorable opportunity to speak to “ Olivia on the subject lie wishod: for he disliked . to introduce it .during study hours, and they , were hegmning to have so much company * now that when he calied at any other time she was generally engaged with others. To prevent Belle from shunning him, and from being embarrassed in his presence, he had one day feigned anger, and had also deceived \ her by saying to her very coldly: “ I am surprised and grieved, Belle, that you - attach so much importance to a few lines of poetry which you were vaih enough to imagiue i I addressed to yourself If you continue to treat ’ me in this raanper. painful as it would be to aie. I shall leave Wetumpka forever." This had the desired effect. Belle noon as sumed her old childish and familiar manner ; I and if she sometimes thought “ I could not have been mistaken: else why was he so much em barrassed,” sift as often thought, “ It may have been just as he said, the fancies of a poet, but it seemed so rbal Itcould not help believing it at first.” ..(TO h£ CONTINUED.] • -■ I him ! How TO MAKE -Dandles. —Mr. N. A. Isom > has discovered a new and valuable process for making good bandlds from tallow, equal to the t star. It is this: To a quart oi tallow add two i or three leaves of-.the prickly pear, and boil out all the water that may gather. When of “ ' the right consisteoey mould in the usual way. * * . V =- \ NO. 38. *