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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- (