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J. A. TURNER, EDITOE.j
VOLUME I.
(Original.
for tiif. independent toes.*.
“CUTTING A SWELL.”
A youth one day from college came —
I*. matters not to tell his name—
And showed he licensed was to pill.
To bleed, to blister, and to kill!
Sonny." Said Ids'doting sire,
While pride lit in his eye its fire—
“ That you succeed in practice will,
Begin right off to’cut a swell!
“ In all the world, mid high and low,
It takes the people’s eye, you know:
To farm, to physic, or to sell,
There’s nothing like it cut a swell!"
The youthful Galen posted off,
And took his pony from the trough;
Then on his back the saddle laid,
And quickly strode the whiling jade.
With lancet keen as keen could be,
lie trotted off right merrily, ,
Oe’r ditch and fence and hill and dell,
To seek a chance to cut a siceti !
He spurred his pony in the flank,
Which cut up many a caperish prank,
And over all the country round,
He went it with a loping bound.
At length a boy did Galen spy,
Who sighed and groaned, and rubbed his thigh ;
Dismounting from his horse, he ran,
And said, “I’ll ease him if I can:
“ A lucky hit! look what a boil !
I’m well rewarded for my toil !”
He drew his lancet in a trice,
And cut the tumor deep and nice.
Again he mounted on his steed,
And left the urchin there to bleed,—
Persuaded he could physic well,
Since he, just then, had— cut a swell !
Jan. 1848. n. l.
% fair.
FOII THE IVDPKNDEXT PRESS.
THE PHANTOM HABBIT.
CHAPTER I.
“Well, Frank, yonder is something
which is worth our seeing. What a
wild, desolate appearance that old
dwelling wears.”
“Yes, Jack,” replied Frank, “it is
like an old baronial palace in ruins.—
Let us see it by all means.”
Thus spoke two young men who j
were riding along the road, having j
the appearance of persons in search of |
adventure. They were mounted on
spirited chargers, gaily caparisoned.
Kacli wore a hunting frock, and across
the shoulder of each was a splendid ri
fle, richly mounted. As they spoke,
they turned their horses’ heads down
an avenue of ancient oaks, whose um
brageous arms stretched out on each
side of the opening, through a dense
forest, as if about to grapple each other
in deadly fray. Two gray-hounds, one
a coal black, and the other a milk
•white, followed their masters.
A ride of a quarter of a mile brought
our horsemen directly in front of the
old dwelling., .It was a large brick
building .of antique style, and on
the very/slanting roof there was a
row of a half dozen dormer windows.
In the yard were oak trees of more than
a century’sgTOwth. Grass and weeds
grew in their shade, and not a soul was
there, save Jack and Frank to disturb
the silence of the ♦scene, or to tread
down, the grass which was so seldom
pressed by human foot.
Frank Jones and Jack Dixon were,
two young men—“gentlemen of ele
gant leisure”—sons of wealthy Geor
gia planters, who had moved from
W county to M— , while
their sons were yet children. The
City of C was their residence.
When Frank and Jack had reached the
age of twenty one, or thereabouts, hav
ing graduated in Athens, they became
very fond of hunting—especially with
the rifle. Another favorite amusement
with them-was chasing the hare—call
ed in Georgia the rabbit—with grey
hounds. Burns and Byron were the
poetical names of their two favorite
dogs, of which I have spoken just back.
They never went anywhere without
carrying with them, these dogs and
their rifles. They had over
nearly all the State on horseback, with
these their companions, and were now,
for the first time, in the county of their
nativity, but in a different neighbor
hood from that in which they were
born. They were the guests of an old
friui'l of their fathers, awl had gone to
% ®ttdil| f onnial:--§)rtottii to i'itmitnrt, politics, ail) dmeral Pisrtllam.
da} T ANARUS, after dinner, they had ridden out
for the first time in the direction of the
old brick edifice of which I have spo
ken.
Our heroes were more expert in the
use of the rifle than one could reason
ably believe, who is not aware with
what precision a keen eye, and steady
nerve and much practice, will drive
the leaden messenger of death. Bab
bits running, birds flying, and even the
swallow twittering in her rapid flight,
all acknowledged the superior skill of
our marksmen.
When our young men rode up be
fore the old edifice, every thing was
still as death. They dismounted, tied
their horses to the swinging limbs of
one of the oak trees, and proceeded to
survey the premises. They entered
the dwelling, and walked through the
spacious apartments, as silent as if 'hey
had been in the m nsion of the dead.
So gloomy, so desolate, so lonely seem
ed the place, that they felt as if they
were in the world of spirits. A sense
of uneasiness came over them, as they
traversed the many rooms of this an
cient building. Not a sound was heard
save their own foot-steps upon the un
carpeted floor, and the beatings of their
hearts, when they stopped to survey
more particularly some strange device
carved upon the walls. Their dogs
walked closely and stealthily at their
heels, as if themselves conscious of
the dreariness which surrounded them.
By and by, Jack broke the death
like silence which had hitherto reign
ed.
“Frank,” said he, “what a good op
portunity this is co have an adventure
with a ghost. It seems as if this was
the very home of a thousand of them.”
“I expect to meet a ghost before I
leave this dwelling” returned Frank
with affected gayety. “It is said you
cannot kill a witch- without a silver
ball, and I suppose it would also be
said you could not hit a ghost except
with the same missile. Yet I think
if one would show his face here, I
could blow out even the brains of a
ghost, with the lead which is in my
rifle.”
All this was spoken in a tone of af
fected nonchalance. Yet the practis
ed eye might have discovered some
perturbation of manner, beneath the
assumed gayety of the speaker. By
this time the young men had reached
the highest story of the building.—
Scarcely bad the last word left Frank’s
lips when the most unearthly shriek,
as if a demon’s voice broke the still
ness, greeted their ears, and a dark
form flitted before them, and out at
one of the dormer windows. The dogs
stuck their tails between their legs,
crouched down at their master’s feet,
slightly elevated the hair on their
backs, and expressed their fear by a
low half wine, half growl. The very
blood seemed to curdle in the veins of
our heroes, their hair stood on en>l,
and their eyes seemed about to start
from their sockets. Simultaneously
with the shriek they had heard, their
hands involuntarily grasped more firm
ly their rifles, and two sudden clicks
were, heard as they furiously pulled
back the hammers from oft* the capped
tubes.
There stood Frank and Jack with
their rifles cocked, clutched with the
gripe of a giant, yet trembling in every
muscle, and gazing into each other’s fa
ces, deadly and ghastly pale, without
power, to speak or move out of their
tracks.
By and by the spell was broken, and
our young heroes began slowly to de
scend the flights of stairs up which
they laid gone, with their fire-arms
still cocked, and their dogs whining at
their heels. Just as they were about
to leave the dwelling* the same un
earthly shriek rent the deathlike still
ness, and a great horned owl spread
his broad wings and glided gently up
on the atmosphere from one of the old
oaks, and lit upon the chimney of the
old dvvelling.
“Strange, isn’t it, Jack, that when
we have heard that noise a thousand
times before, wc didn’t know instant
ly what it was TZ.
“It docs, seem so,” answered Jack,
“but we were so bent on seeing a ghost,
and the circumstances were so oppor
tune fgr gratifying us, that the. sound
of the,grasshopper would have proven
a burden, and in the note of that little
insect even, we would have, imagined
Ho a 11 . ■
EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1854.
Frank Jones, and Jack Dixon never
pulled rifle trigger to cut hair or snuff
candle. I'll lay you a wager, Jack,
I knock that fellow’s eye out, and will
pay heavy damages for the harm I do
to any other of his flesh, feather, bone,
or bill.”
“Done, Frank !” I’d like to see you
hit that chap now, body, bone, or feath
er. For he lias given you the trem
bles so badly, you can’t come within
six inches of him Avitlv your lead,,
though lie’s half as big as a barn-door
Now if you knock out his eye, and
scoop out his brain, a box of the best
E. D. cigars shall be yours, at my ex
pense. Otherwise, I smoke them,
and you pay for them.”
“All right,” said Frank, as he level
ed his rifle. “And now, thou bird of
wisdom, look out- for thy knowledge
box, for I’ll give its contents to be de
voured by the swift death-eater in my
rifle!”
“Crack,” went the clear voice of one
of Try on’s best, and the old bird of Mi
nerva ducked his head, as the ball
whistled within half inch of his crani
um.
“He acknowledges the compliment
by a handsome bow, Frank,” shouted
Jack ; and a merry ha, ha, greeted the
disappointed rifleman’s ears.
“Now Frank,” continued Jack, “you
shall have an opportunity to win back
your cigars. Just consider the same
bet made in reference to my shooting,
as was made in reference to yours.”
Scarcely had he finished speaking,
when, in response to the shrill, clear
crack of his rifle, the owl tumbled over
on the other side of the house.
“Told you so Frank! It takes your
uncle Sam to do the shooting for you.
Where are you going, man ? You
needn’t examine that bird, for the ball
went just where I wanted it to go, as
exactly as if you had taken it between
your fore-finger and thumb, and laid it
there.”
But Frank was not to be deterred,
in this way, from examining the
dead bird. At the discharge of his
comrade’s rifle, he had seen what
the smoke of his companion’s gun
had prevented his beholding. He
had seen the feather’s fly from the
body* of the owl, as he fell over on the
other side of the house. So taking up
the de.ad bird, he presented to the as
tonished eyes of Jack, a hole right
through the middle of his body ; and
the last marksman was .compelled to
admit that, although he had killed his
object, his shot was not so good a one
as that of his companion.
“Nice heroes we are, Frank, to allow
an owl to so disturb our nerves as to
render us incapable of shooting as well
as a ten-year-old boy ought to do. But
look out! See how Burns and Byron
make that old rabbit “get up.” ’Gad !
She runs well!”
As he spoke, a rabbit dashed within
six inches of his toes with the two gray
hounds close at her heels.
“Confound the rabbit, is she going
to run over me ?” said Jack, as he
kicked at the little animal, which eva
ded the blow by springing over the
foot raised against it. She dashed on,
and just as Byron was in the act of
seizing her, jumped upon a marble
slab, which covered a grave hitherto
unobserved by our heroes, and stopped.
Burns dashed round on the other side
of the slab, as if to head her, and By
ron rushed right upon her, and jump
ed at her with open mouth. He closed
his jaws, and made a motion as if to
pin her down to the slab. Jack and
Frank rushed forward to secure their
game, but, to their surprise., there was
no rabbit there/ Byron pressed his
legs and breast upon the slab as if he
thought the rabbit might be under him
and moved cautiously back to secure
her with his fangs, if she should attempt
to run. Burns too, ran his nose un
er his companion’s belly as if to drag
out the rabbit from under there. The
dogs, finally persuaded that their game
had made its escape, commenced
jumping.as high as a man’s head, and
coursing around in circles, to find their
object again.
Frank and Jack concluded there
must be a hole in the grave stone, and
that the rabbit had run into it, and
thus made her escape. So they pro
ceeded to examine if such were; the
case. The contrary was true. The
masonry , upon which the slab was
placed was as substantial and solid as
masonry could be, and the slab itself
fVITMIOI T FE*IR, Jt\4f'Oß OR «*FFECTIOJV”
even a fly or a pismire could find a
crevice through which to work its
way, much less a rabbit. Their as
tonishment at the escape of the' rabbit
was surpassed, just at this time, by
the strange device upon the slab.—
There was the name “John I)e Burun”
in basso relievo , and nb date, and no
words to tell who the dead man was,
or when he died, or any thing about
him. Just below this name was the
figure of a black dragon, with barbed
tale and tongue, and feet (and wings of
as horrid a description asiever entered
the reveries of a crazed! brain, about
the sulphury pit. From His mouth and
nostrils breathed flames of glaring fire,
and upon a. scroll issuing from his
mouth, . were the three words “wo!
wo!! wo! !!”
Horror-struck at the figure, and the
words which spoke sucl a fiendish
meaning, our heroes, for, a moment,
forgot dogs, rifles, rabbit, and every
thing else, save the all-absorbing scene
before them. Just .then the dogs
brushed by them, still running, bound
ing and circling, in their search after
the game which had just escaped them.
This awaked the attentionof their mas
ters to the rabbit again. To their ut
ter astonisment, they saw her sitting
upon her haunches, with ker long ears
pricked straight up, in the identical
spot where she was, when Byron
thought he had caught her. The two
companions cast strang<j glanees at
each other. Jack extended his hand
towards the rabbit, as if to take hold
of her, and, just as he was about to
close it upon her with a nervous grasp,
she bounded off full twenty feet, and
ran with all her speed in the direction
of the grey-hounds which were about
a hundred yards from the grave. So
far from seeking to avoid them, she
rushed immedictely past them, and, in
front of them, as if courting pursuit.
“What in the name of God does this
mean ?” said Frank, with apparent
trepidation.
“God only knows,” replied Jack.
And the two companions, as if think
ing there was safety in their fire-arms,
proceeded with all possible despatch
to load their rifles. By the time they
had accomplished this, the rabbit,
which ran round in a circle, of which
the grave was the centre, came dash
ing up once more, and leaped upon
the slab in the same spot where she
stopped before; and the dogs, a se
cond time, went through with the
same manoeuvres which they had al
ready gone through with, finally
bounding around in circles again, to
find where the object of their pursuit
had gone. Just at this time the rab
bit, which had disappeared from the
eyes of our heroes, as the dogs made a
second attempt to catch it, re-appeared
again, to their utter amazement, in the
same spot.
“By G—d,”said Frank, “I’ll put the
muzzle of my rifle within an inch of
this witch’s brain, and blow it into
atoms.”
Suiting his action to his words, he
placed the muzzle of his gun almost
touching the rabbit’s head, cocked it
deliberately and pulled trigger. At
the report of the gun, the animal jump
ed full fifteen feet perpendicul ir, and
then lit off to the right, immediately
between the noses of Byron and Burns,
who had rushed up upon hearing the
report of the rifle. This time, they made
no effort to seize her, but slightly
erecting their bristles, and sticking
their tails between their legs, they ut
tered a low, half growl' half whine,
and slunk behind their masters, as if
for protection. Without a word pas
sing between our heroes, Frank re
loaded his rifle, and both of them
walked 911 with rather a hurried, ner
vous step towards their horses. As
they went, their dogs stuck close to
their heels, looking sulky and cowed,
while the rabbit, as if nothing had hap
pened, gamboled on, before now, and
now at their side, w ith her cotton-white
tail stuck strait up, and she occasion
ally stopping' to munch the tender
grass and herbs which grew every
where in the yard. Any one coming
up, and not acquainted with the cir
cumstances, would have thought that
Frank and Jack had a tame rabbit
which was, following them as a pet;
gentle as a kitten.
Whcn they reached their horses the
sun was just setting, and its farewell
rays were gilding the old brick , house,
so’as to make it look likem enchant
ed castle Gnats and mvrGd« nfVnlm
eu ensvie.. unats, ana of ephe-^
mera were sporting in the last rays
of the declining sun—ephemera whose
life would depart as the god of day
called in his beams, and took his de
parture to illumine another hemisphere.
The plaintive note of the swamp-spar
row was heard in the dense shade of
the neighboring wood, and already the
bat, the night-hawk and the owl be
gan to flap their dusky wings around
the old dwelling. The whip-poor-will,
too, began to pour forth his sad strain,
and chuck-will’s-widow vociferated at
the top of his voice. Every thing be
spoke dreariness, desolation, and death.
Could you have visited the regions of
the dead, and have wandered among
the cypress groves of Hades, with all
the nocturnal birds of the valley of the
shadow of death, pouring their mourn
ful wail upon your desolate ear, a
more subduing sense of loneliness could
not have possessed you than that, which
seized upon Frank and Jack, as they
vaulted into their saddles, and bid a
final adieu to the haunted old mansion,
and the ghost-like rabbit, which stopp
ed wh.en they had reached the fence
that surrounded its yard. Os life there
seemed none, but everything, and eve
ry feeling, appeared dead, dead, dead.
Six miles lay between them and Col.
Graham’s, where they were stopping,
and with one long simultaneous whoop,
as if making an effort to arouse them
selves from a night-mare, they proceed
ed in a swift gallop to the house of
their friend. That night it was long
ere they could compose themselves to
sleep. But finally, fatigue overcame
all excitement, and lassitude being a
natural consequence, Morpheus em
braced them firmly in his arms, and
so soundly did they rest, that their
slumbers that night were entirely
dreamless.
CHAPTER 11.
The next morning, when Jack and
Frank awoke, the sun had been sever
al hours up, and was pouring in at
their windows a flood of golden light,
as if to baptize them into the faith of
the fire-worshippers.
“Frank,” said Jack, “I have had
such a dream.” This was said before
Jack was fully aroused. And he com
menced, while half asleep, to narrate
some of the scenes of his supposed
dream.
“That accords wonderfully well with
a dream I have been having,” thought
Frank to himself, hardly as nearly
awake as his companion. And he
made an effort to arouse himself.
By and by, both our heroes arous
ed themselves, and the scenes of the
evening before came across their mem
ories with all the force of reality. In
vain they had been half wishing, half
believing it was all a dream they had
passed through. As the incubus of
slumber dropped from off them, the
faint outlines of what they had ‘awak
ed, thinking a dream, became plain
and distinct visions of memory upon
their puzzled minds. But little con
versation passed between them, after
they became fully awake. That morn
ing, at the breakfast table, Col. Gra
ham noticed that his guests’ eyes ap
peared red and swollen, and that their
countenances seemed a little haggard
and care-worn. He enquired of them
whether they had rested well, and ob
tained from them a reply that they
never had slept better.
After breakfast, Frank and Jack re
sorted to their host’s library to pass
away the time, for they felt excessive
ly ennuyed, and began to think of re
turning home. Col. Graham had a
very good library, and they turned
eagerly from volume to volume, to see
if they could not find something to
their taste, to while away the tedium
of. their hours, until the time should
come for them to leave the neighbor
hood of the haunted house. After an
hour or two, Col. Graham joined them,
and they mentioned to him their ad
ventures of the evening before.
“You have seen the phantom rabbit,
then,” said the Colonel to them, after
hearing what they had to say. “There
by .hangs, a dreadful tale,” continued
he, “and,'as you donop seem disposed
to engage in sport with your dogs and
guns, this morning, perhaps you would
be willing to hear it, unless you are
too much engaged with your books.”
With one voice Jack and Frank de
sired their host to tell the tale of the
phantom rabbit, for their curiosity; to
say nothing v oft%ir^jilarm.. wasytop
much excited concerning what' they;
had seen on yesterday, not to be eager
indeed for some clue to the mysterious
affair. Col. Graham proceeded as fol
lows :
“Six years ago *an aged English
man, by the name of John De Burun—
you saw his name on the tomb-stone—
settled in the old briolr house which
you visited. It had for many years
been the residence of another English
gentleman who had taken it in his
head to return to his native country,
in his old age, as he said, to rest his
bones upon the soil which gave him
birth. He owned several thousand
acres of land in one body, around him,
and when John De Burun, who had
spent the greater part of his life upon
the island of Cuba, and had amassed a
princely fortune there, came to this
State to seek another home, old Living
stone—for he it was who owned the
old brick house—had just the place to
suit him. Livingstone had called his
place Kenilworth, in honor of Kenil
worth Castle in the old country. This
name added another charm to the old
mansion in the eye of De Burun, and
a bargain was soon struck between
him and Livingstone. The latter gen
tleman, near eighty years of age, soon
sailed for England, and De Burun,
about the same age, immediately be
came tenant in possession of Kenil
worth.
So great was the wealth of De Bu
run that he had to purchase several
other plantations, in the neighboring
counties, upon which L to place his
slaves, of which he owned one thou
sand. From the first, the business op
erations of the last owner of Kenil
worth had been conducted by an old,
gray-headed mulatto, whom he called
Pedro. Half Ethiopian and half Span
iard, this old slave . yt-esehtcd a re
markable instance of intelligence, gen
tlemanliness and urbanity of manners,
for one in his station. He possessed a
good practical English and Spanish
education, and bad a very remarkable
business talent, which was turned to
continual profit by his master, who,
being as gloomy, melancholy, morose
and misanthropic as an Englishman in
a foreign land can lie, had nothing to
do with his fellow men, leading a very
retired and secluded life, and leaving
all his business transactions to Pedro.
He knew well enough, that by the
laws of Georgia, Pedro, as a slave,
could do nothing!of himself which
would be binding.! Yet all his con
tracts were made ahd all his business
done by this faithful slave, and then
ratified by himself. I
When De Buriin first moved to
Kenilworth, there was one other white
member of his family besides himself.
This was an only daughter, just six
teen years old, n&med Inez, She
had the coal black Andalusian eye, eye
lashes and tresses. Her skin was that
of a brunette, and her form as luscious,
round, and amorous as if cast in the
mould of Venus. You will learn
more of this senorita presently. Suf
fice it, for the present, to say, that this
young lady fell in love, and that too,
contrary to the Avis lies of her parent,
especially when avc consider the ob
ject upon which her affections Avere
lavished. This was no other than the
son of her father’s overseer.
When De Burun took possession of
his neAv plantation, he caused Pedro to
advertise in the neAvspapers for some
one Avell skilled in raising cotton, and
oiiered as an inducement, a salary of
one thousand dollars, to any one who
could come well recommended, and
could give full satisfaction of his abili
ty to comply Avith the requisites of a
good overseer. Timothy Johnson Avas
a small farmer, who had met Avith some
late reverse of fortune, and who, lured
by the large Avages offered by De Bu
run, applied for the post of overseer.
Satisfying old Pedro of his capacity to
please the owner of Kenilworth, he
was employed by the old slave, and
the act was ratified by the master. Nor
was Pedro’s &gacity deceived when he
believed he had made an excellent bar
gain for his master. So attentive Avas
Johnson to the interests of. the planta
tion, that De Burun could pay him his
thousand dollars every year and not
miss it out of the income of I Kenil
worth.
Timothy Johnson had a son by file
name of Harry, Avho Avas just twenty
one, remarkably intelligent and hand-
FOrptQ •*' j poss 1 Ftl t * 1 tl*
ness, polish and affability of manners
\yp H
/ iaf|B
{TERMS, $2,00 A YEAR.
NUMBER 13.
female heart. Harry Johnson Avas a
man destined to shine in the world.— 1
His broad and expansive brow, his
keen and intellectual eye, every mark
and line upon his countenance, spoke,
in very legible characters, to those Avho
had eyes to see, of his future elevation
and distinguished notoriety. At the
time that his father Avas overseeing
for De Burun, he Avas clerking in a vil
lage store, not far from Kenilworth,
for the purpose of obtaining funds to
enable him to study law, and support
himself for a year or tAVo, until he
should succeed in getting into a prac
tice. During this time, his visits home
were frequent, and, though old De Bu
run would have considered it contami
nation for him even to have cast his
eyes upon the beautiful heiress of Ken
ihvorth, still many opportunities pre
sented themselves for him and Inez to
exchange furtive glances with each
other.
In love, the language of the tongue
does not at all compare with the lam
guage of the eye. One single gtance
will tell the tale of the heart more ef
fectually than a volume uttered by the
tongue, now strange is love! How
spontaneously, lioav instantaneously it
springs up at first sight! This is hu
man nature, and Inez and Harry were
both human beings. The first time
their eyes ever met, the arrows of the
blind god Avere planted simultaneously
in both their bosoms. Stolen glances,
averted looks when they chanced to
catch each other’s eye, perturbation of
manner on the part of Harry, and the
slightly flushed cheek on the part of
Inez, spoke an unmistakeable language.
Harry dared not encourage the pas
sion, for he knew the haughty and ar
istocratic old lord of Kenilworth too
well, even to hope for the hand of his
daughter. As to Inez. Avhon the
young Cupid nestled in her bosom,
she scarcely kneAv Avliat it Avas. Par
taking of her haughty sire’s proud
contempt for plebian blood, she Avould
not for the Avorld, have entertained the
thought of loving Harry. She knew
it AA r ould be Avorse than death for her
to do so, and that her father would
prefer seeing her in the cold grave, to
having her united A\ r ith any other tliam
a family equal in rank to his own.
Actual fear, as Avell as filial duty,
prompted her to conceal .from herself
the fact that she loved Harry. 4jg|
All this time the heiress of Kenil-
Avorth and young Johnson had never
spoken to each other, dhe only a\ ay
and time in which they met, or saw
each other, was during the promenades
of the young senorita, in the path
which led though a beautiful and shady
grove by the house of her father’s
overseer. Her walks in that direction;
had become more frequent lately, the
reason for which she concealed from
herself. And Harry, too, although
he dared not nurse his passion, thoughtfc
there could be no harm in taking all,:
opportunities to feast his eyes upon the ;
beauty of Senorita Inez. According
ly, Avhenever he could steal away from
his business, on Sundays, or other
times, he Avas at home, promenading
in the grove Avhere he knew he,
be certain to meet this young lady. >
On these occasions they never pretend
ed to exchange salutations, pr evep to
recognize each other. One passed on
one side of the path, and the other on
the other, but not without stolen glance**
on the part of both. , >
Things passed on m this tor
some time, and the passion Avhieh had
sprung up in their bosoms became
more and more deeply seated.
became alarmed, finally, at.
Avhieh love had made: Inez,,.lest her
parent should find it out?—for she
kneAv that something horrid Avould be
the result if he did—and Harry, be
cause he suav that he had arrived, at
that position Avhere his happiness de?.
pended upon the attainment of, antob*
ject which he could never reach. They
both resoh'ed, and re : resol\'ed, to place
themselves no more in positions where
they Avould meet, or see each other. —
But these resolutions Avere -formed
only to be broken. Like the poor
fluttering bird that is charmed bj the
deadly fascination of. the serpents eye,
they saw their danger, but bad|not
power to break the spell. Like the
poor mortal that is cast upon the
of Niagara, and is drawn AvithHET
current that will dash him, af the
thunders of this awful, as if
Uioni tuc . very clouds into cliusin