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HIBUSBED'wriSSSToSIDSBR,
*T~i^EnMi^AirpiriNi»i)ia.
NEW SERIES.]
Written for ttsebouthcra Field and Flrel^nJ
WgJKN THE WAB IS OVER. ’fl
twii summer eve; tha twilight's tlrsomj hoar
' Like a newt mem’ry, o’er the senses stole;
The birds srero flpettod in their leafy bower, i ■ ‘
And Eight her trains was gathering np, to rultj
Her darkened eurtalns 'round the dewy Earth.
T roe then laid her small, whtte band In mfne,
And as her gentle sighs to words gave birth,
Bho Softly whispered, • I am eeer lhi»e 1'
I pressed her then to name the happy hoar, ?
We'd stand together at tfc altar’s ride; ’
Tisay how longtwtore the orange flower,
Woold crown her there my Ihir, young, losing bride;
She said, Whllat kindled up her bine eyee’ light,
Ae if tome preaelent angel from above,
Had breathed within an inspiration bright:
‘Not soon, bat when the war it over, tow I*
Thy country le thy bftte, till »he ahnll Stan*-.
Stand proudly 'mid tie nation, of the earth!
Till gentle Peace come smiling o’er the lad*,
And direful woth give place to Joy and mirth!
Strike till the preeenoe of a dastard foe,
Oar .hopes of happiness no longer more,
?"w| f
* ru tEtoWe*lntkiWM itfoM mman r
■ Alouko.
THE SfOliY TELLJR.
[For the Southern FUld *nd Fireside.] * A
INDIA HOBCLUR;
OR
THE LOST WILL.
A PRIZE STORY,
nv wise Kara e, wuiut
' ’ CHAPTER VX
“ Oh lay thy lovely dreamt aside,
Or raise them onto heaven."
‘ Why, Evelyn, old fellow, come m, I am
•truly glad to see you pace more j I thought you
* bad pegged out;’’ end Clarence sprung from
the chair where he was lounging in a rich
dressing gown, girdled with a heavy cord,
whose tassels of crimson sillc swept nearly to
the floor, and rested daintily on hit slippers,
richly embroidered with silver bullion. _ A
smoking cap of emerald velvet, wrought with
threads of gold, the golden tassel sweeping
his shoulder, was set jauntily on.one side of his
bead, while wreatliß of fragrant smoke curled
gracefully from the silver lip of his meerschaum
te the ceiling. 1 Coma in,’ he his fnend still
paused in the doorway.
> 1 hardly know whether to come in or not,
Clarence ; I thought to And you living a la re
publican; but here are the surroundings of a'
prince.’
‘ Never mind, the setting doesn't make the
gem, you know,’ evidently pleased at his friend’s
admiration of his new outfit. ‘ You ooroe to
see me, I take it, and here .I am at your service.
Help yourself to a prindpe, and then tell me
what you have been doing with yourself this
age, counting by my own heart beat'
• I have quit smoking, Clarence.’
‘Quit?’ "lias a change come over the
spirit of jßpr dreams?’
‘I have resolved’to give up some of am fool
ish habits.’ .;.,J f ..’’ii
1 Billiards ?’ Jk,
‘Yes.’ At jM,
‘Wine?’ ’Vj
‘Yes.’ * 19
1 Fast horses V i
' N 5 ;’ ' that is a barmless pleasure that I do
’ not intend to deny myself while my money
lasts.’’ ‘ ' f ' . -i y
1 And,wbat*further doyou propose - to do?’
I To fit myself, for som useful and honorable
* *» Utrrr
AUGUSTA. GA.,
calling. I shall enter my father’s counting
house. ’ ; j.
, > And come out aayou went in—verily a sec
ond Solomon. I should not be surprised to
hear that you bad turned preacher, or founded
alcbool for the Fegees. But seriously, bow
came you to think about these things?’
‘ I have been influenced by a friend. Come
Clarence, my more than brother, we have sown
our wild out* together; you have been roy
boon companion until now ; turn and go with
me.’
‘ No, thank ye. I am doing Yfry well as I
am.’ : •
‘ But the end, Clarence, tbw end ?’
* What do I caro-for the end ? My motto is
Mkt and enjoy.’ ’
■ 1 Clarence, my dear friend, listen to me. By
all those Godlike powers with which high
heaven has gifted you, by the blessings lavish
ed on your basket and store, by all your high
hoped of the future, do not fritter your pfecioua
lite away. Come with me.
‘I will, to take a social glass or game of
billiards.’
Young Evelyn was sorrowfully silent, and
rose to go, then turning back, said : ‘ Clarence
t-I b»w tbs* yo« will marry ymw nousi" ’, »•
• I have not fully decided whether I shall or
not. If so, have you any objections ?’
‘Would yon join hsr young life, in its purity,
withyours V
mMon’t think lam worse than most man,
Jm. I am, she must be the judge.’
Jr' To God alone we stand or fall. But fare
well, if you should ever need a friend remem
ber my heart is unchanged—the old love burns
on,’ and be attended bis bald.
‘Clarence merely touched the tips of his
fingers, saying in a careless way: ‘And if you
ever get tired of psalm singing, as I know you
will, con* back, I shall be glad to see you.—
But tell me one thing before you go, who has
wrought this mighty change in you ?’
‘ Harry Annesly, my father's hud clerk, a
noble fellow.’
‘ One more question and I have dona : Hpw
does it JRppen that you are not at 'Mrs. Lin
ton’s ?’
1 Simply because my friend Harry took flare
of my sister, and left me to ooine here. I
could not wait any longer to see you.'
‘ Miss Evelyn and a clerk,' said Clarence,
'scornfully. -tljs your father in his right mind ?
I see you have lost your senses.’
‘My father remembers too well, and never
hesitates to allude to it—the time when he and
your father, too, Clarence, were clerks, on a far
less salary than Harry Annealy’s.’
Cla ranee bit bis lips with vexation as he re
pliediS; Well, times have changed since then, i
androeither yeu nor I would like to begin at
thwfoot of the ladder.’
‘We tnsjphave it to do. Harry was raised
as tenderly.u. either of us ; but by .the loss of
a will he thrown out to buffet the world.’
Clarenoe wished to prolong the conversation
no yawning said ‘ Wbat can’t be
‘..■tired endured. I only wish he was
For JHor alter his friend’s departure
ClareafDflfan sat leaning his head .heavily
on his chair, with aa intensity of
tbat betrayed Both annoyance and
rising sought his cousin. ’
• HdHßd her in his mother's room sewing,
but MHElßrnan, with her usual thoughtful
ness, me inhered household' duties
tbat requirdwlrer attention, and left them to
themselves. India had been a member
of the family six being antirely ex
cluded frompsociety by her mourning, she had
seen more of her epusin than she would at any
Mger tinny in aagMiiy months. (
finaen quiet sails on the river,
.gaUgjSr over the hills on howebaok, whose
pleasant motion tingled every pulse, pleasant
dijves at sunset, tgta a tetes unnumbered, with
reading, and music during the lengthening
evenings, till her neart went out to her conaiD,
and her life blossomed with new brightness and
hope,* So comjletely bad he hidden, his inner
►AY, MARCH 21, 1863.
I selfish nature Kjy lus esthetic end intellectual
! beauty that sb « deemed him alt that was noble,
brave md tru«we—the ideal of her womanhood,
,||d when she read the earnest expression of
Ipsderuess in tsaia lingering, loving glance, she
thanked God audibly for the precious gift
dropped in her— shadowed path.
PlagPj snaaaaitching her work from her hands,
Clare®* said =
‘ Come, sit by me on tbs lounge, India; I
don't want yomu to settand placing bis hand
in ber’s, hedre—»w her to hid side.
• Naw- tell me something of your life in
Indiole.' •
1 There is w“>-«ry little to tell Like a dear
crystal stream deep and broad, full of goldeu
sunshine or stars—very beautiful but
nothing to picture. 1
‘ Just sa I tts ought, and I have often wonder
ed.bos you txMWDtrived to exist.’
‘My tastes \m v ere very simple, and I had my
dear father.'.
‘But of the old, oe they ever so idol
ised, and for youthful companionship.’
‘I had Harr— jr, my poor, dear cousin,’ and the
words came L_ow and lovingly from her lips,
while a deeperrr- red rippled through their treinu
louspee*....,
‘Your'pouflssssin was surely one whose MMn
never liarmoni_xed with your own ; you plsoe a
false estimate, won bis worth.'
‘ My father Imeoved him dearly.’
‘Perhaps yon might add, and yourself too.’
India was silewßnt. 'lt is a pity but what ‘ho
thought half a a much of you.’
'He does, tme diJ,’ and again she faltered;
for in her eage r defence she forgot that ahe was
betraying a co*=nfeas(on that must be sacred from
others.
‘He did per BEjaps,while you sheltered and-fed
him, butnotnawr, India.’
. ‘ I wish at that I know where he wag.’
‘Cometotheza window and I will show you.
Do you seo tham.t white house yonder ?'
‘ Judge Kvel 1 of oourse ; haven't I seen
it a hundred ti« nee ?'
‘Your cousin lives tbore.’ Something al
most like a erww came from India, in the pain
wrung from he r heart; but Bhe closed her lips
resolutely as ttfcia continued: ‘At that lower
window in the counting bouse is bis desk, and
I have no that he sees us day after day
as we pass in amnd out together, and chuckles
over yotir regret t. If he cares for you, why has
ho never been —to see you ?'
‘Don't, don’t=- Clarence, ono more act, apd he
and I will havtww done forever.’
‘ Doyou'allcaade to his marriage with Miss
Annie Evelyn T~~ Rumor says he is bound in
that quarter, though I do not believe her
family will evecr- consent' .t'
‘No Clarences. 1 mean the resti.tution'fcf his
property,'
‘ Hia properfc_y ! I he possess
ed the Drat red cent. Snbow came this little
hand, still imrawrisoning it softly in his own,
to be the latte of stocks and mortgages ?'
‘My father’s last will has never been fonnd,
but I considemE- it none the less binding. It
gave half of tU. o estate to Harry, and the very
day that I comeme of age will And him in pos
session.'
‘What folly — ! Do not make yourself a
martyr at this c=May and age. Listen to me. Do
you love me, lcaw.dia ?’ and he drew her,head to
hie shoulder, arzad gazed into her upturned face
as if he would sound the depths of her heart.
‘ I do,’ was t tie low tremulous reply, but full
of sweotnesj ax —id power.
‘Willyou maaerryme? 1
There were no words now, but a look of
ineffable happirSa ess and affection that smote his
soul.asthelittl—e hand nestled closer in his.—
He clasped it a moment, and then
taking from his pocket a rich-circlet of gold on
which burned a single large and lustrous
diamond, gleam ing out like a star, slipt it ou
her third saying:
‘Nowdarlingr— I have a right to counsel, and .
you must put *. way this foolish, insane-plan of
dividing your it*- beritance. Not that I care one
cent for the moesaey, I have more' than enough
[VOL I.—NUMBER 12.
for ns both, you may scatter it as please,
but not to him.* » i .4 r * I
‘Ob Clarence, it is my solemn duty.' '1 bore
thought and prayed over it, and I feel as if the
finger of God pointed that way,’ and tße qhick
tears sprang to her eyes.
•India, I know more of men than you do,
and you will be directed by me, premise mo
thut ’ * * * * * »
‘Then you ean never be my wife.’
‘ I must persuade, and I believe, judging by
my own heart, your mighty love will save you.
80-1 solemnly awear that" unless you revoke
your decision—not now,’ aa her lips parted, 1 1
can wait tiM reason, love and better judgment
dictate my reply.’
‘Oh Clarence 11 fear that I may be tempted ;
in morey hear me now.’ t
* I will not.’ - ? lj
He bent down and kissed her solemnly, and
walked away, leaving India alone, her hands
working convulsively with the quick, sharp
paiu darting through her heart. Aiaa! the
waves of suffering were rolling over net, and
she had but one resource—her constant aever
failing source of prayer. She prayed fervently
and with an earnestness of purpose, 'that
brought relief to her anxious sorrow j but from
that hour the confidence wilicrv "fia# feWWr*d
hdr beart *o happy, was gone forever—a suspi
cion of moral worth had fallen on a beloved ob
ject
CHAPTER VII. ,v a
Many weeks had elapsed. Clarence and
India were still betrothed, and still the pleas
ant companionship continued, though Deitber of
them had ever communicated the fact to any
humau being, and neither had ever alluded to
the conversation in the previous chapter. It
waß now some four mentha sines India left
Indiole, and she bad never re-vistted the place;
for she was striving to oonquer the sweet im
pulses and tender yearnings of tkt(JMirt for
the old homestead; every thought o? wbich
vibrated with the music of other days. Ail at
once there came over her such a sudden, un
conquerable desire that she had no power to
resist; she must go back or her heart would
break. ,
It had been a wild, terrible night, blaok
with the darkness of the gathering tompest;
the wild wind sweeping through the fopejt
tops, and peal after peal of thunder booming;
like the rush of gathering armies aloDg the
sky ; but the clouds swept back before ttie
sunlight, and the morning was calm and cloud
leiea as a loving eye.
Gloing to Mrs. Morgan, at tke breakfast
table; India asked strait-forwardly :
• ‘ Will you use the carriage to-day, aunt
Mary?’
‘No, child; if you wiah it, I am truly grati
fied ; ior I began to fear you would bsbrer give
me the pleasure of conferring soother favor.
v A ; what hour would you life it V
"‘At ODce, if you please.’
‘To go far?’
ITo Indiole.’ ■ "s ■■ ■
Mrs. Morgan looked enrprised; hot without
comment, ordered tbe ooachmau to bring the
traveling carriage to the gate, and await Miss
ludia’s orders. Clarence came down just in
time to hear tbe last words, and bursting in
suddenly, said:
‘No mother, you must excuse India to-day ;
for I want her to try my new horses ; they are
at the gate, and as impatient to be o£f aa un
chained eagles. Come India,’ turning to his
cousin persuasively.
1 Tour cousin wishes to go to Indiole, my
son.’
1 So much the better; it will give us a longer
ride. Let me take you.’
India could not well refuse had she desired
it, and in a few moments they were dashing
along, though often impeded by marks of the
preceding storm. Huge trees, gnarled au,d
■ twisted, lay with their roots wrenched from
their earth-hold; high in mid air their strong
limbs scattered like the leaves of autumn, and -
many a path was channelled along the high- (