Newspaper Page Text
TO S!«ffl!HT Mil
>l. V. TURNER, EDITOR.
VOLUME I.
INDEPENDENT press.
“ Without Fear, Favor or Affection.”
EATONTON, GA.
SATURDAY MORNING. OCT 21.1854.
Rcr. Rill ngfon «?/. Sanders.
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i ;liv ied the duty of writing a
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Brother Sanders was now fully es
tablished in the w rk of the ministry; a
work in which he greatly delighted,
and which he prosecuted with diligence
and success as long as health and
strength r niained. From the time of
his ordination until his settlement in
Greene County, at the place now
known as Penfield, he preached regular
ly at Williams’ Creek, and most of the
time at Pine Grove ; trom the begin
ning of 182 b till his removal, he was
pastor of the .Union Church, to which
he belonged, and most of the same
period he also preached at Powelton.—
His labors upon this interesting field ;
were highly appreciated, and he was
instrumental, there is reason to believ ,
in turning many to righteousness.—
During this period he was also instru
mental in helping forward to the min
istry some of our most useful and pro
minent laborers. While laboring
:d road upon his somewhat extended
field, lie was not unmindful of the re
ligious welfare of his own family and
the immediate neighborhood around.
Having provided for himsetf anew
and eomfortablehou.se, with pious and
considerate care he fitted up a comfort
able room on his premises, as a place
of worship for the special accommoda
tion of his family, including his ser
vants, and for the convenience also of
meetings occasionally appointed for his
neighbors.
But he must not long remain in his
comfortable, mansion, and amongst the
people to whose spiritual welfare he
was so vueli devoted; Prov dence sum-
I mons him to anew home, and to m >re ar
te uous labors. The B iptist C niven
\ tion having determined, at their anual
[meeting in 1831, to establish* a Classi
cal and Theological Seminary, as soon
as the necessary preliminaries could be
adjusted, Brother Sanders was called
upon, .to take charge of the infant enter
prise. As the insti' ution contemplated,
as one of its prominent objects, the im
provement of tlie rising ministry—a
matter dear to the heart of Brother
Sanders —and as he entertained no de
sign to cease proclaiming the gospel
message as he might have opportunity,
liesuppos: <1 that la might engage in
the work propo and, at 1 ast for a time,
without doing violence to his minister
ial engagements. He consequently
yield and to the wishes of his bretheru,
.and vet und> r circumstances which
were well calculated to test his faith,
and afford convincing evidence of Bis
benevolent, self-sacrificing spirit. To
do full justice to his sacrifices and mo
tives in undertaking, and prosecuting
so long, the work proposed, we must
go back to his quiet residence in Co
lumbia County. As already intimated,
he had provided for himselfa comfort
able mansion; a thriving plantation is
spread around him; and, what is more,
be is occupying, happily and usefully,
as we have just seen, a wide field of
ministerial labor—sufficiently wide to
task well his powers, and gratify the
promptings of an ordinary benevolence.
Then consider, in the next place, that
the enterprise upon which he is called
to embark, in some of its features, is an
unsettled experiment; its sanguine
friends arc not very numerous; its pe
cuniary prospects not tbe most hope
ful ; and the anticipated accommoda
tions for his wife and children, for
teachers and pupils, of tfie rudest char
acter. Will he give up the comforts of
Columbia, and pitch his rude tent in
the forest of Greene ? W*ll he harness
bimsclf, even for a season, to an enter
prise of so much apparent risk, of so
much certain toil? Christ speaks
through the voice of his brethern, and
he has learned to bow submissively to
tbe call of duty. December of 1832,
(Suds hi mat Ids po t The first cfJ| an-
% fonnral:~Dtlnrtti) to if itcratnre, lolitirs, anil (general ifistellaiti),
uury following, finds ready for him and
his charge, “two double cabins, with
a garret to each, for dwelling, for din
ing and for study, for both teachers and
students.” There, in those two log
cabins, in the oaken wools, with some
imperfectly cultivated acres near, with
one teacher by his side, and thirty-nine
! pupils (seven having in view the minis
try) around him, in toiling faith, in
laboring love, in patient hope, did our
beloved brother lay the foundation of
the Mercer Institute, in a few years to
be known as the Mercer University.—
The following extract from Brother
Sanders’ Valedictory Address, whilst
mainly intended to remind us of some
of the encouragements which attended
his first year’s labor in the Institution,
more than hints at many of the difficul
ties with which lie was* compelled to
struggle:—“ I shall ever remember,
with lively emotions of pleasure, the
patience and cherfulness with which
the students of this year sustained the
privations and trials to which they
were subjected by their cramped cir
cumstances. They may be truly said
to have borne hardness like good sol
diers. Whilst living, as in a camp, in
their midst, and burdened with the
charge and the responsibility of the lit
erary, theological, laboring, and board
ing departments, I found no little sup
port in all my cares and labors, from
witnessing, that while they lived upon
the cheapest fare, had no place for stu
dy but the common school-room, no
place to retire to for rest but a garret
without fires, in the coldest weather,
and laboring diligently three hours
every day, no complaint was heard,
but that the most entire cherfulness
ran through all their words and ac
tions.”
At the expiration of his first year’s
service at Penfield, it being deemed
essential to the interest of tne Semina
ry that he remain, although he had
already passed through so many priva
tions, and still perceived that many
anxieties and hardships awaited him,
lie consented to prosecute his labors.
It would require too much time to do
ample justice to the diversified and
arduous toils of Brother Sanders, dur
ing the year already referred to, and
the five years that succeeded. lie was
not merely the general superintendant
of the Seminary, but he entered labor
iously into all the various details of
the different departments. He was
teacher, steward and farmer. lie had
accounts to keep, buildings to erect,
land to clear, financial plans to revolve,
discipline to administer, studies to re
view, extensive correspondence to keep
up; besides the anxious and never,
ceasing attention which he devoted to
the religious welfare of his pupils, his
ministerial labors in churches around,
and his not unfrequent attendance on
special and important meetings of his
‘brethern, connected with the interest
of the schools and the general welfare
of the Redeemer’s Kingdom. Add to
all this the attention which was de
manded by an increasing family, and
his important private agricultural in
terest, and you may form some idea
of the diversified toils and cares which
rested on the heart and hands of Bro
ther Sanders. For many yeaas he was
frequently up, in the diligent prose
cution of his duties, till eleven or
twelve oifclock at night; whilst he was
uniformly up and to his toils at an ear
ly hour in the morning. He proved
himself to be the very man that God
had raised up for this important en
terprise. In those branches of instruc-
tion to which he gave special atten
tion, he was one of the most thorough
and efficient teachers that was ever
connected with the Institution. In the
administration of dijiiplmc, although
sometimes considered as leaning to
severity, he nevertheless displayed
much tact and ability. Indeed, in all
his various duties, he sustained him
self with much success. God smiled
upon his self-denying endeavors.—
Public favor was conciliated to tbe
Seminary, the number of students in
creased, pecuniary aid flowed in, and
precious revivals of religion were en
joyed from year to year.
It was at length determined to ele
vate the Institution to the rank of a
College, and Brother Sanders was
elected as its first President, It was
with much reluctance that lie accepted
W the appointment, not through
“WITHOUT FEAR. FJIVOR OR JIFFFCTIOJW”
EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1854.
dreiki of toil and sacrifice, but through
a modest distrust of his ability to ful
fil its duties, lie yielded only upon
two considerations: one was, that he
must be allowed to employ an assis
tant Professor, and support him out of
his own salary; the other that the
Trustees should use all reasonable ef
forts to secure a successor at their ear
liest opportunity. A successor hav
ing been provided, lie resigned his
charge at the close of 1839, after hav
ing conducted the Institution success
fully through the six years of its Aca
demic minority, and the first year of
its Collegiate career. He turned it
over into other hands, not indeed a
completed structure, but with founda
tions well laid, and its walls going up
in strong and useful proportions. On
giving up his charge, he delivered a
Veledictory Address before the trus
tees, faculty, students and friends of
the University: this Address, which
was subsequently published, contained
an interesting account of the origin and
early history of the Institution, and
was replete with maxims of sound,
practical wisdom. Though no longer
the President, Brother Sanders contin
ued, in other relations, his untiring ef
forts for the prosperity of the College.
He was about five years its Treasurer,
occasionally its traveling agent for the
collection of funds, a member of its
Board of Trustees until his death, and
also for several years, up to the time of
his decease, the Secretary of the Board.
He will be long and gratefully remem.
bered for his arduous and disinterested
labors in behalf of the University;
though hitherto his labors in this re
spect have not been sufficiently appre
ciated by his own denomination, nor
by the country at large. Coming years
will do him justice. So far as personal
sacrifices and self-denying labors were
concerned, he might be considered
more specially its founder than any
other individual. It is true he was
blessed with the counsel and co-ope.ni
tion of other valuable brethren :—how
needful were the early efforts of a
Sherwood, especially in rousing the
minds of his brethern to the impor
tance of education; how needful the
strong and clear-sighted financial saga
citv of a Janes; how needful the sound
wisdom and princely muni Science of a
Mercer, not to speak of the valuable
services of associate teachers, and other
zealous helpers; but how specially
needful, under God, was the versatile
mind, and the strong, dexterous right
hand of Billington Sanders. That
in all his round of arduous and com
plicated service, lie should have com
mitted no mistake, would have been in
deed miraculous; that he should have
done so much, and done it so well, is
truly a matter of admiration and thank
fulness. In other hands the work has
gone prosperously forward, until the
Mercer University ranks high amongst
the most thorough and useful Semina
ries of our country.
And who more heartily rejoiced in
the growing usefulness of the. Institu
tion, than Brother Sanders? How
was I gratified, in one of my very last
interviews with the venerated man, to
notice how his fading features lighted
up with the smile of gratitude and joy,
as he spoke of the prosperity and pros
pects of the beloved Seminary. And
well mignt it be so. It was a child
which he had watched with a father’s
love for twenty years. And as his
thoughts reverted to those two log cab
bins, and the laborious, anxious years
that succeeded, and as he then turned
his dying eyes towards the neat and
comfortable edifices that had been rear
ed, and the smiling campus in front,
and the lovely village around; as he
thought of the noble pecuniary endow
ment of the Seminary, and its still rich
er endowment in an able, diligent and
pious faculty; as he thought ofthema
ny precious souls which had been
hopefully converted within its walls,
the respectable number of useful min
isters, teachers, and citizens whom it
had trained and sent forth; when he
thought of the reputation its pupils
had gained for energy, sound morali
ty and thorough scholarship—?o much
so, that the graduate sos Mercef
sought after with interest in various
regions in Georgia, and in sister States;
and when he further thought of the
cheering prospects of the Seminary for
years, perhaps for generations to come,
and then of the important instrument-
alitv with which lie had been honored
in aiding to bring about these pleasing
results —well might the glow of thank
fulness and joy kindle upon the fea
tures of the dying Sande s. Well
might he say, with the aged Simeon, as
perhaps he did, “ now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace.” As long as
the Mercer University stands, so long
will Brother Sanders be ratefully re
membered for his self-denying and be-,
nevolent labors; and as long as it
stands, may it be guided by those
sound and wholesome maxims which
controled its youthful destinies. But
we must hasten on.
During his residence at Penfield,
our beloved brother, ever mindful of
the charge of his divine Master, “go
thou and preach the gospel,” labored
much in the ministry. He was four
years pastor of the Shiloh church ; lie
labored ten years with the church at
Greenesboro; and was pastor of the
church at Penfield, from October, IS-/
49. He also labored regularly for
some time with the Antioch and Sugar
Creek churches ; and one year supplied
the church at Griffin two Sabbaths in
each month, distant by railroad, the
route he always took, about one hun
dred and thirty miles. In the bounds
of these churches, his labors were ac
ceptable and use; on some occasions
seasons of special refreshing were en
joyed, “ and much people was added
to the Lord.”
He sustained an eminently impor
tant relation to the large advisory coun
cils of his brethern. For more than
a quarter of a century, he was a burning
and a shining light in tho Georgia As
sociation. He was several years the
Clerk of that body, and at nine of its
annual sessions be presided as its Mode
rator. And is it necessary for me to
remind you, brethren of the Conven
tion, of the endearing and highly use
ful relation which he sustained to this
body? llow ready, how skillful,, and
often how powerful, was he in your
discussions: how wise and efficient in
aiding to give general shape and pro
portion to your measures, and to ar
range their various details. On spe
cial committees, how diligent and la
borious : on commissions to other im
portant bodies, how faithful and how
helpful. Do I exaggerate at all when
I say that, for many years, lie was more
fully identified with all the important
measures of this body, at least as to
their practical execution, than an
other individual in Georgia? For six
years he was the President of this Con
vention. His indefatigable labors on
that very important and responsible
Board, the Executive Comrnitee, run
back beyond my particular knowledge:
seldom did he miss its meetings; for
many years he prepared its lengthy re
ports, and from the death of Mercer
till his own death, he was uniformly
its Chairman.
His assistance in laying out, organiz
ing and adorning the town of Penfield,
must not be omitted in the list of his use
ful services; nor the labors of the year
during which he so acceptably edited
the Christain Index, though with much
risk to his health ; nor his useful visits
as one of your Delegates to the. Gen
eral Triennial Convention, before the
separation of the Northern and South
ern Baptists; nor his subsequent visits
as your Delegate to the Southern Bap
tist Convention, an organization in
which he took much interest; nor his
occasional visits to distant churches on
important service, his frequent attend
ance on the sessions of the various as
sociations in the State, at union, mis
sionary and protracted meetings, and
on funeral occasions, during which ex
cursions he traveled thousands of miles,
endured many privations, and lifted up
his voice for the instruction of a great
multrde of immortal souls. Nor must
we fail to place upon the record of his
useful services, the important aid which
he rendered to many of our excellent
ministerial laborers. Some of them he
was the means of first directing to the
Lamb of God. Some of them were
helped on to their first trembling ef
forts in the ministry by his encourag
ing voice. Many of them he greatly
aided by the instruction he imparted
in useful literary branches, and in the
doctrines of the Bible. Many young
ministers, struggling with narrow
means, and with a sense of unfitness
for their responsible work, shared large
ly in his encouraging sympathy and
friendship, and as they went forth, some
to the sea-board, some to the moun
tains, and some to Alabama, Texas,
and other regions of the country, they
carried with them, and those that yet
live still retain a profitable, animating
remembrance of his paternal counsels,
and of his bright .example of Christain
faithfulness and self-denying labor.—
Time would fail me to speak of Ids
valuable services in support of the cause
of Temperance, of' which he was an
early and efficient supporter; of the
cause of Foreign and Domestic Mis
sions, Sabbath Schools, Bible and
Tract distribution, with all kindred
plans of Christain beneficence. Time
would fail to do justice to his numer
ous and liberal pecuniary contribu
tions, which flowed forth steady and
bright as the bounty of the laboring
Sftn; steady and unambitious as the
fertilizing flow of the perennial stream
in its mountain valley. Whilst on this
latter topic, however, 1 would do
wrong to omit the interesting fact, that
by his last will and testament, he le
vied a wise, benevolent tribute on the
estate which he left to his children.—
He directed that one-tenth of the in
come on the property left to his minor
children, should be given to benevo
lent purposes; they, in consultation
with their mother, to determine the
particular objects to be aided. Thus,
whilst lie provided for a liberal contri
bution to the cause of Christ from his
estate as long as he could control it,
with his accostumed sagacity, he so
arranged it that his children should en
joy the advantage of an important
moral dicipline in its regular yearly
disposition.
[to be continued]
A Little Husband and a Little
Wife. —The Sandusky Register is res
ponsible for this: Two little children
—a boy and a girl aged four and three
years respectively—were missed by
their families, and search made every
where for them, but in vain. The day
passed, and considerable alarm existed.
Persons were out in all directions,
and the bell-ringer had been sent fb ,
when passing a thicket of bushes in
the garden, the mother thought she
heard low voices near. Pulling away
the leaves, there were the truants,
with their night clothes on, locked in
one another’s arms, and very comfort
ably stowed away for the night. The
precocious lovers were stirred from
their nest, but the boy expressed the
utmost indignation; for said he, “the
hired man had married me and sissy,
and that bush house was his’n and
we were goin’ to live there till it
rained.” The donouemsnt was so
comical that it was concluded t let
the babies be married until they had a
falling out, which occurred the next
day, and now they live apart —a
separated man and wife.
Excellent Repartee. —The Rev.
Dr. M’C ,minister of Douglass in
Clydesdale, was one day dining in a
large party where the honorable Henry
Erskine and some other lawyers were
present. A great dish of cresses be
ing presented after dinner, Dr. M’C
who was extravagantly fond of vege
tables, helped himself much more large
ly than any other person, and as he
ate with his fingers, with a peculiar
voracity of manner, Mr. Erskine was
struck with the idea that he resembled
Nebuchadnezzar in his state of condem
nation. Resolved to give him a hit
for the apparent grossness of his taste
and manner of eating, the wit addiess
cd him with, “Dr. M’C., ye bring me
in mind of the great king Nebuchad
nezzar;” and the company were begin
ning to titter at the ludicrous allusion
when the reverend vegetable do von r
er replied, “ Ay, do I’mind ye o’ Ne
buchadnezzar ? That’ll because I’m
eating among the brutes !”
A Beautiful Incident. —A naval
officer being at sea in a dreadful storm,
his lady sitting in the cabin, near him,
and, filled with alarm for the safety of
the vessel, was so surprised at his com
posure and serenity that she cried out —
“ My dear, are you not. afraid ? llow
is it possible that you can be so calm
in such a dread!ul storm ?”
lie rose from his chair, rushed to
the deck, drew his sword, and poin
ting it to the breast of his wife ex
claimed. — "
“ Are you not afraid ?”
She instantly answered, “No.”
“Why ?” said the officer.
“Because,” rejoined the lady, “I
know this sword is in the hand of my
husband, and be loves me too well to
hurt me.”
“ Then,” said he, “remember I know
in whom I believe, and that He who
holds the winds in his fists and the wa
ter in the hollow of his hands is my
father.” ... * .■',/v./
more parental authority w. s
exercised over children, there would be
less criminals.
floettij.
TOR TUB INDEPENDENT PRESS.
[No. 24.] i
Oh! Put Them Away.
Oh! put them away from the Banquet hall,
Those gilts of his, for thou may’st not gaz*
Unmoved on tho same, at the festival,
Where silvery lamps on thy nuptials blaze.
Oli! put them away, for thy haughty groom
Cannot bear to gaze on his rival's gift,
And liis angered eye would upon thy bloom
Like sun-beams fall, on a snowy drift.
Oh! put them away in a lonely spot,
Those gifts ofliis, or the chandeliers
Will shine but to dazzle their humble lot,
And bathe their beams in thy gentle tears.
Oh I put them away, or thy guests will look
Where his pencil traced his name with thine,
And will sneer with pride at the humble book,
"When their costly gifts shall around it shine.
Oh! put them away—his daguerreotype
Should not be seen by the heartless crowd ;
And 'twere well for thee if their ban s could wipe
His name from thy heart in sorrow's shroud.
Oh! put them away in the lowly cot,
Where his aged mother weeps her son;
They will serve to adorn that humble spot,
Where he lived when he thy bosom won.
Turn wold, Aug. 17th. l. l-
§1 (Talc.
FOR THE INDEPENDENT PRESS.
BENT WOLD:
A TALE OF FLORID A AND GEORGIA.
BY T
( Con tin v <■(/.)
chapter xiv.
A goodly portion of the visitors at
Bentwold were frequenters of watering
daces. Indeed, among them all, not
me was found, who did not occasion
dly visit the Indian, Catoosa, Madison,
fee. Some of th *m went as votaries
of fashion, and some went for tin
benefit, of the air and water —
while others still went, from a mere
disposition, which would not allow
them to remain long in one place.—
The season was near by, at which t
was fashionable to congregate at the
lifferent watering places in Georgia,
•nd Bentwohl began to lose the gay
•rowd which had so long filled its
rooms.
The guests parted with engagements
o meet again, some time during the
summer. Mr. Bentley, Helen, and In r
mother, concluded to spend August,
September, and part of October, in
Georgia—stopping some weeks at Ca
toosa.
Tom Butler rode over to Bentwold
one evening to see Frank. Tom had
not been so joyous and gay of late as
be once was. Frank himself was not
in very good spirits, and Helen seemed
really sad. The whole party were sit
ing in one of the summer-houses, and
silence had reigned for some moments:
Each one was busy with his or her own
thoughts. Tom had made several ef
forts to be gav, and Helen had second
ed his endeavors ; but the efforts had
resulted in miserable failures—so mis
crab'e that they grew tired of them. —
At length Frank looked up and said:
“What is the matter with us all ?”
“Our guests all departed too sudden
ly,” answered Helen.
“Not more so than than they always
do,” said Frank. “Still I don’t think
their departure ever made me so sad
before.”
“That is true” said Helen, and she
could not repress a slight sigh.
Tom raised his eyes quickly, at
sound of that sigh, and as her eyes met
his, she could not avoid blushing and
casting her’s down. Poor Tom! A
choking sensation seemed to come over
him, which he mastered and enquir
ed—
“Frank when do you go to Europe?”
“To Europe!” answered Frank sur
prised.
“Ye. Did you never dream of the
possibility of visiting that country ?
Have you not said, albalong, you in
tended making a tour thither?”
“Certainly, but—"
“But what? ’
“I have forgotten it of late.”
“Well" said Tom, “l have come to
a very sudden resolution -to st rt to
Europe next week.”
} “Next week !”'said Helen, “Then
|TERMS, $2,00 A YEAR
NUMBER 27
if all our friends leave, we will be sad
indeed ”
“You cannot be so long,” answered
Tom. “You will soon be among your
former guests, at some gay watering
place, and you will forget Florida, and
the beach—the live oak-—the old neigh
borhood and old neighbors.”
Tom’s voice was tinged with bitter
ness and despondency, and he could
not help it.
“You have no right Mr. Biitler,” said
Helen, “to make sych an assertion, not
having any evidence at all to support
it.”
Tom’s conscience smote him and he
replied quickly—
“l humbly beg pardon Miss Helen.
I know you never can forget the hour*
that you and Emma and Frank and I
have spent together; but the idea of
leaving my home and friends, for an
indefinite period of time, makes rno
sad and foolish, and almost reckless.”
“You surely are not serious about
starting next vreek,” said Frank, who
had been pondering deeply, during the
time Helen and Tom bad been speak
in g
“I am serious,” said Tom.
“Because if you are” said Frank,
“I may go with you. Os course I have
not abandoned my old, cherished idea
and now is as favorable a time as any
for carrying it out,”
“Why brother” said Helen, “I
thought you had concluded to spend
the summer with us, in upper Georgia.
What will Kate Morgan think of
you ?”
“I must go and consult father,” said
Frank rising. “If Igo with you Tom,
I must be rapid in my preparations.”
He went off, saying,
“I will be back in an hour Tom,
and give you an answer.”
“When lie was gone, Tom did not
begin to speak of the subject which
was nearest his heart, but said,*’"
“Emma lias concluded to accept of
your invitation, Miss Helen, :|pd join
your party”
A short pause followed' and Tom
again spoke. He was rather a rash
impetuous youth, and lie broke out
with,
“Miss Helen, do you love Fitz Wa
rren?”
lie said this in bis gay familiar man
ner, which his long acquaintance war
rented. Her tone was equally as ay
as she‘replied, J|
“Really sir, I c»v, not 1 recognise your
right to ask the quest ioni’
“I can keep up this mask no longer,”
now, said Tom, “I must ask. the ques
tion seriously, whether—” i.,,
“And I,” said Helen, “also drop the
mask, and say, seriouslg, that I da not
consider your question a fair oner’ *
“Iliad hoped”said Tom, mounifully,
“that the terms of intimacy on vfiichyou
and I, and our respective fammps have
been, since your infancy anal mine,
would warrant my asking the question
Since you refuse to answer it, M it pass;
but there is one point to which I be
seech your attention. Miss’ Helen, I
love you, with a love which has grown
with my growth, and hasqeaiiied
strength with every day of exis
tence ; and now that I am
my native land, I come tanenow wheth
er for me there is hopa#
Helen was silent affi Tom resumed,
“Helen, by your cJodness of heart;
by all the pleasurejJ&f our youthful
intercourse; by thejyidness and friend
ship which I kuW? you feel for me;
by the must feel in my
well-being and#ny career during life,
drive me not tojlespair. Send me not
abroad, a liopellss, aimless wanderer.
A few simple Ards will suffice. On
ly say, I may hope.”
"“It'is impossible,” answered Helen
in great agitatvm, for she knew the
young man’s ament temperament, and
dreaded the effect of a disappoint
ment.
Tom groaned agony, and
covered his face with ms*&Mids.
“ Then,” he
raising his head, “}‘<>u love anotr?e||y
“You are mistaken” said Helen.
“ If this is so, you cannot, cannot in-.
tend to extinguish within my breast
the last spark of hope. ’
“Mr. Butler, you torture yourselfx
unnecessarily. It is useless for me to
say how much I esteem you, but I
must tell you candidly, that my heart
is untouched. And foil are blinded
with reference, to your own love. Ik/
fore'you ha''a been gone a month, you