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was life? But then was there not a higher
duty to fulfill—ibe commands of 4 Him who
doeth all things wbil ?’' Yes, he would obey,
and leave the Heavenly Physician to apply the
hjaling balm. He loved the beautiful girl
almost as his own child, and ha would warn her
e’er too late forever.
4 My dear Ada, he replied, what though it be
death? our Saviour has passed through the
darkness of the tomb, and it will have no ter
rors for those who trust in Him. book to Him
my child, He alone can save you.'
‘Oh I w'll not, I cannot die,’ and a shriek of
despairing agony rem the stillness of the room.
'I will send i'or a miuister, said the mother,’
and her voice trembled and the white lips quiv
ered with the emotions that filled her stricken
heart. 4 For what, mama ?’ and the reproachful
gaze of her dying child fell upon the face of
Mrs. Dalzelle— 4 to mock my dying pillow with
a prayer that was never before uttered for me.
Oh mama, mama, you taught me how to live
but never told me that I must die. Mr 3. Rals
ton give me your faith, your religion.’
4 Look above my darling,’ was all that the
sobbing voice conld utter, as she wiped the
gathering moisture from the cold brow; but the
shortening breath, the glazing eye, the stiffen
ing limb sadly whispered, 4 too late.’
The wretched mother hurried her face in the
bed, upon which lay the form of her idolized
child, surpassingly lovely even in the icy em
brace of death. What would she not have
given to have recalled but one hour of that
precious life. The dying words of Ada still
rung in her ear— 4 Mama, mama, you taught
me how to live but never told me I must die.’
Now she must bury her from sight to become
the food of worms, and at her side might be
laid those she had taught her to scorn as un
worthy her slightest look. The jewel had been
entrusted to her keeping, and very carefully
had she adorned and polished the outer sur
face while all within was darkness. She had
cultivated a love for the world and its pleas
ures, and now the golden apple had turned to j
ashes at her feet. The aged father reeled be- !
neath the stunning blow. He had spent his !
life in endeavoring to prove that he was with
out a soul ; and now as his most cherished ob
ject of pride ana affection lay before him a
mass of clay, no ray of heavenly light peue- •
trated the closed portals of bis darkened soul;
man was but a brute; what right had he to ex
pect light from above ? Tears refused to rc
relieve the tortured anguish of his heart; but a
short time would he be allowed to gaze upon
the beloved form; the mother earth would claim
as its own what he had once considered be
longing wholly to himself.
The church bell tolled mournfully,as the long
funeral procession of Ada Dalzelle moved
slowly towards the open grave. Weeping
friends stood around, and as the first dull clod
fell on the lowered coffin, and the minister’s
words uttered: 4 dust ha* returned to earth,and
the spirit unto God who gave it,’ a hollow
laugh came from a clump of.evergreens near
by, which rung upon the still air as sounds
from beneath the mouldering tombs, and the
form of Rachel Clyde followed by her constant
companion, the little grey hound, proceeded
hurriedly in the opposite direction towards
Bellmont.
CHAPTER VHI.
All things rejoice in youth and love,
The fulness of their first delight!
And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night.
Isonofelloic.
4 How oppressively warm this crowded hall
is,’ and the speaker, a young lady, with eyes
‘darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,’, threw from
her delicately moulded shoulders the light
drapery which composed her opera cloak. 4 1
really am very much obliged to uncle Henry
for hurrying us, as I thought half an hour
from the present would have allowed us plenty
of time to have secured good seats.’
‘You know, cousin Minnie, father always
does everything in the right time, answered
her companion,’ a young lady of her oton age.
4 But I do wish the prima donna would make
her appearance; it is awfully dull sitting here
with no acquaintances to recoguizeand bow to.
At home an hour or two cau easily be passed
unnoticed; but. still there is something pleasing
in the novelty of being a stranger in a strange
place.’
4 And most likely to remain so, returned Min
nie. Everybody seems to be wholly absorbed
in their own business or pleasure—perfectly
willing to leave us alone in our glory. I have
not seen a single opera glass leveled in this
direction yet, and we have been here fully half
an hour.’
4 You are mistaken, my fair cousin. I have
been studying the genus homo for the last five
minutes in the form of a very spiritual and very
interesting looking young man, who attracted
my attention by his steady gaze in this direc
tion. So don’t arrive at the hasty conclusion
that our charms are wasted on the desert
air.’ 4 1 thiuk it would be in a desert indeed that
Imogen, lla/.elton would fail to discover a
spiritual to awaken her interest and arouse her
sympathies. But don’t let your feelings be
come too deeply engrossed, cousin Imogen, or
aisappeiatment may alene reward your devo
tion. Observe, too, the glances of that little
black-eyed beauty a few seats in our rear; she
may have more to do with the earnest gaze
of your pale faced hero than you are willing to
admit.’
i [to be continued.]
THE SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE.
[For the Southern Field and Flreside.l
CARELESS WORDS.
. —O—
H V C A R r. I K .
- —o—
* A little word, a careless word—
Breathing of shame and wrong—
A messenger of death, it seemed.
To one amid the throne.
n
Twas bat a breath, an idle breath,
And memory with it fled;
But one there stood, whose every hope
Lay mangled, crush'd and dead.
in.
Deep, deep, within that maiden’s haart
There lurk’d a treasured name;
But none there stood that crowd amid
To shelter him from blame.
IV.
It all might be—she knew it not,
Nor dared the word refute;
So wondered on, a spirit lost,
With voiceless anguish mute.
v.
O! deemed ye not, ye careless ones—
In blighting thus his fame—
There ever dwells some kindred henrt
To feel that other’s shame?
VI.
On yonder hill top, lone and drear.
Beneath the grassy sod,
* There lies a gentle maiden's form—
Her spirit, with its God.
vii.
Ye thoughtless ones, who sadly mourn
The fate of one so fair,
Ye little deem that careless words,
Alone have laid her there.
-
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.
FIVE CHAPTERS OF A HISTORY :
A GEORGIAN COURT, FORTY Y'EARS AGO.
ky I’hilemon ri:*<:n.
CONCLUDED.
CHAPTER V.
“Strain against Rickies!”
It was now Friday morning. The judge
was weary with the session, and fretful from
repeated wranglings with several leading at
tornies. These had all gone, the important
cases haviDg been tried or continued. The
court had aunounced its determination to ad
journ that afternoon, whether the docketAh*»4d
be flnishd or not. It had not seen its family
in two weeks, and it must and would see its
family in two weeks, and it most and would see
its family by to-morrow night. Juries and by
standers were quiet as mice. Mr. Sandidge
was in the enjoyment of mild happiness, not
only from the remembrance of having had a
good run of luck during the week, but because
the judge was now in a hurry, and the case of
Strain and Rickies was yet untried. He wished
it continued; for he was of counsel for defen
dant, and their plea was doubtful.
“Strain vs. Rickies,” announced the court
rapidly and fretfully with pen in hand, as if to
hint that it was expected to follow the fate of
the half dozen preceding cases, and be disposed
of summarily.
“ Ready for the plaintiff,” announced Mr.
Mobley.
The judge dropped his pen, leaned back in
his chair, and cast a threatening look at the
counsel. Mr. Sandidge merely remarked that
that was a case in which some pints of law
were involved, and as the court was anxious to
adjourn and to go home and see its family, he
suggested that if the counsel was willing it might
be continued generally. Mr. Mobley objecting
to this disposition, he, alter having a witness
called, and receiving no answer, proceeded to
make a showing for a continuance by the de
fendant. This was the absence of a witness
who, as he had been informed, bad said that
he knew all about the case from beginning to
end. It was in vain that Mr. Mobley urged
the insufficiency of the showing for its inde
liuitoness, and the right of the opposing coun
sel to send for the witness who lived in the
village, and who, as his client informed him,
was then on the street and withiD hearing of
the sheriff’s call. He mentioned this fact and
that his client had just psssed him in the street
and heard him say when he was called: “It is
Saudidge. 1 know what he wants: he don’t
want me.”
“ If the counsel or tiie court desires the pre
sence of the w itness, he can be procured in
less than live minutes by sending the sheriff
for him. Do I understand that this court will
continue a case and delay the rights of credi
tors when it is assured that a witness who re
fuses to attend its summons is within hearing
of its officers call —a witness of whose acquain
tance with the facts there is only a hear say
and that the m&ost indefinite —a witness who,
to all appearances, is absent by the procure
ment, if not of the party, at least of his coun
sel ?”
The judge hesitated. Mr. Sandidge, seeing
the effect upon both of them of an exposure of,
what was the fact, his instructions to the wit-
ness, not to. obey the call, withdrew liis
motion.
“I do this, may it please your Honor, not
from any thing my brother Mobley has said in
argument, or for his insinuations about pro
curements and such like. The showing is a
sufficient one ; but I’ll waive it—l’ll waive it,
sir, and I think I’m prepared,—l say, I think
I’m prepared (noticing the judge’s dissatisfac
tion at the direction the matter was taking) to
end this matter very summarily. The defen
dant is re».dy.”
A jury was empannelled, and Mr. Mobley
proceeded wilh the case. It was a simple
action upon a promissory note given by the de
fendant to the plaintiff who was a merchant
from Augusta. He read the declaration, ex
hibited the note, and closed.
Mr. Sandidge rose, and remarking that this
was a case which he apprehended would not
long occupy the time of the court and the time
of the county, announced to Mr. Mobley, that
upon consulting his client he had just ascer
tained that the consideration of the note sued
on was usurious, and that his conclusion being
to rely on that defence solely, he should have
to ask time of the court in order to make out
the plea, unlpss counsel would agree to con
sider it in already.
Mr. Mobley, turning to bis client, vyho as
sured him that it was not true, allowed Mr.
Sandidge to proceed.
A witness, the same who had been called,
and whom Mr. Sandidge privately sent for,
went to the stand. After the usual preliminary
that he did not particular charge hiß mind with
what he heard and saw, not expecting to be
called on, he did remember that the parties
said something about the note being in renewal
of accounts some of which plaintiff himself had
against defendant, and others of which be had
traded to h’m; that he heard plaintiff tell de
fendant that if lie would give his note for them,
adding in the interest, he would indulge him a
year on its payment; that the defendant hav
ing agreed to the proposition, gave his aote,
payable at twelve months. In answer to a
question from Mr. Mobley whether any thing
was- said about extra interest, he did not re
collect as to that; didn’t particular cbajge his
mind, not expecting to be called on. Mr. San
didge offered in evidence the accounts with the
legal intorest computed in, acknowledging pay
ment by note and bearing even date with it.—
Then casting a triumphant smile at every
body, he sat down.
Mr. Mobley looked at the judge with an ex
pression which seemed to say: “Surely, no
fool, not even you, would admit such testi
mony.” The judge looked at him, and his
countenance seemed to ask: "What do you
say to that, Mr. Mobley 7” Mr. Mobley avowed
his belief that in all judicial history, a thing so
absurd had never before been proposed, and
he moved that the whole evidence be excluded,
and lie be allowed to lake a verdict. Being
called on for his reasons: “Because," said hd
contemptuously, “ it does not support the plea.
You have pleaded usury, and you have proved
that the contract was not usurious.”
Mr. Sandidge said that he might be mistaken;
that he said he might be mistaken, but that ho
had never heard—he had now been practicing
law twenty-five years and better —but that to
the best of his recollection, he had never seen
nor heard of a case where interest was collect
ed, or could be collected on open accounts, on
accounts that were not liquidated.
“Who gainsays that?” Mr. Mobley inter
posed.
“ The counsel will please allow me to pro
ceed, knowing as he does his right to reply.
I said, may it please your Honor, that in my
recollection, in a practice now of twenty-five
years and better, I. had never seen nor heard
of a case where interest was collected or could
be collected on open accounts —on accounts
that were not liquidated. That thing is for the
first time in my practice, sought to be enforced
upon a court aud upon a country. Tbe plain
tiff in this case—and these Augusty mer
chants ”
“ Go on to the jury” ordered tho judge.
Mr. Sandidge bowed and turned to the jury.
“These Augusty merchants, gentlemen of
the jury,” easily resuming the thread of his
argument, “ these Augusty merchants, as a
general thing, always know what they are
about. I say always—not a single exception; ”
and he bestowed on the plaintiff a look fully
significant of his admission lhat he was entitled
to his sijaro of the enconium pronounced upon
the class of which he was an individual.—
“ These Augusty merchants know more in an
hour than we plain country people do in a
week. And it is reasonable to suppose that
they do; and ’tis because they are Augusty*
merchants : for what chanee have we here in the
country got to know as much as they know ?
We don’t see the steam boats, and the power
of the wagpns, and the thousands of cotton
bags, and the fine brick ware houses, and the
hardware stores, and the other stores that al
ways keep full of one particular kind oi goods.
If Tommy Rickies was to go to Augusty, and
was to want to buy a dog-knife for his little
boy, he would just as apt to go to a store
which had bothing in it but cjilico, and dry
goods, and fuller of them than all the stores in
this town; and when they laughed and told
him they were just out of that article, he might
go to a hat store, and then into a shoe store,
and then into a candy store —into a- store
where the shelves was literally blinded with
jars of candy, and nothing but candy; and so
it might be an hour before he got to a hard*
ware store and found a dog-knife for his little
boy; and then ten to one, he couldn’t find his
way back to his wagon. I say we don’t know
any thing to compare with these Augustv mer
chants. But still there are some few things
that we do know if we do live here in the
country where there aint any steam boats and
hat stores, and candy stores and hardware
stores; and one*of them is that y U u ce-ant col
lect interest on open accounts.”
That settled it Mr. Sandidge seemed to think •
and several es the jury, though evidently not
yet very clear, inclined to think so too
‘‘We all know that’’continued Mr. Sandidge
—that is all except Tommy Ruckles.” (Gen
eral laughter, the jury seeing the matter a
little more clearly, especially as Tommy looked
so innocent and pitiful.)
11 And, gentlemen, Tommy knowed it too if
he had thought about it, and hadn’t been with a
Augusty merchant, and had’nt been thinking
of the steamboats, and the power of the wa
gons, and the hat stores, and the shoe stores,
and the hardware stores, and got his senses all
confused up together.” (Continued laughter a
majority of the jury being fully satisfied ) ’
The judge waxing stern at the disorder, Mr.
Sandidge had to moderate his humor, and con
cluded by arguing heatedly and seriously as he
could, and even somewhat pathetically that in
terest not being collectible on open accounts
this plain principle vitiated the whole transac
tion and made it usurious. With another
avowal of his desire not to take up the time of
the court and the time of the country by argu
ing so plain a case, he sat down his counten
ance expressing both a virtuous indignation at
a great wroDg which was attempted, and u
proud satisfaction that it could not be done
over his shoulders.
Mr. Mobley felt that, with the prejudices of
the judge against himself and especially against
usury, and the cunning of Mr. Sandidge, he
was in great danger of losing his case. He
spoke with great energy on the absurdity of
the defendant's plea. In the midst of his argu
ment, Mr. Sandidge asked bim for his authori
ties. This was done to embarrass him aud
throw him off his guard, as he would have had
to admit that there was no authority in point;
but he had now gotten too high to be re'ached
by Mr. Sandidge.
“I am asked,” he said, “for the production
of authority that the giving of a note in liqui
dation of a just debt is not usurious. I am
asked for this by a lawyer of twenty-five years
practice—a lawyer who is old enough and
prominent enough to be, what it especially be
hooves every lawyer to be, a conservator of
pub'lic tranquility and private integrity—one
who with all his boasted contempt of legal
precedents, and his real ignorance of them, yet
knows full well that in no court of justice, even
mqat inajpniftcant, Wks this qw»Ubu, or
any other one - so absurd as this ever raised;
aud whose only reason for raising it at this
time was his knowledge of the existence .of
dishonest habits and unreasonable prejudices
which, as a leading citizen he ought to be one
of the last to encourage. Violent as the pre
sumption often is, and lar from the very sem
blance of truth, it is, nevertheless, a presump
tion that judges know the laws; and it ought
to be the habit of attornies and solicitors, es
pecially those of experience and influence, to
refrain from raising questions, a moment’s en
tertainment of which by any court is sufficient
to deprive it of the respect of all mon. But
it has remained for this day to witness that the
highest court in one of the sovereign States of
this Confederacy shall be insulted in its dig
nity and majesty by a course of conduct which
seems to have been designedly pursued in or
der to test the sanity of that court’s presiding
officer. Assuredly to no other mind than to
that of the counsel had it been possible to fail
to occur, that an insignificant advantage in a
suit at law was scarcely worth rhe having,
when it was to be gained in away which, to
say nothing of its influence upon his client,
would establish either the stultification of the
court, or (and he looked fixedly and fearlessly
into the judge’s face) “raise the suspicion of a
yet greater infirmity. Even if he should con
sider himself as so great a friend to the court,
whether from past favors or present adulation,
or from any other cause, as to think himself
entitled to the exalted privilege of bemg its
favorite, ene would have supposed that, if for
no other reason, at least from motives of pru
dence and decency, he would have confined
his conduct within that sphere where there
would have been left at least a doubt as to
what judgment that conduct ought to receive.
It is a duty which we owe even to our private
friends not to demand a service of which there
can be found no reason but friendship to justify
the rendering, while every other reason but
friendship would demand its refusal. There
are some services which no ardor of friendship
is adequate to procure—some indeed which a
proper and worthy friendship woujd be the
last to exact.”
A large crowd had gathered into the court
room, attracted by the vehemence of the young
lawyer’s declamation. He was an eloquent
speaker, and bis speech was telling upon the
bystanders. He saw it, and it stimulated him
to continually increasing endeavor.
“ There is a vulgar maxim that there is noth
ing to be lost by the asking of favors. The
counsel has long and well learned how to pro
fit by it. His successful experience in this
respect, while it reflects no great honor upon (