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r— —in n i —b irn n —"sl r —■ —i n — —■ r —m ni ■ Blsf >^x I 11 H ji ]I I §P™* i B®® I l I b 1| I y® 8n i ■ IP® [ nr |j i l . ILv 111 *7 cj t l\i ri c kii ir *JJ C J triv 1 v Mfg j «J II II I J # -J| |\ I I I mM 111 I € _| \\ \\ I I\ll LI L I ■_ |\i ILI r \ rll r rt)lri)ln 1 8 1 8 1 1 1 J B B ! J Ii B\ V 1 1 I ®®* M HBBa ffiMS ni M ®®® Blßll,Bipr BBHSB Bl WIH Wm ■■ ■■ »® *®®®B : mm - - _ 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