Jt-f J SrS7 r VOL. 7. LINCOLNTON, N. C. MAY 10, 1851. NO. 3. 1 n mi ItlXP 0 n FRITTED AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY THOMAS J. CCCLES. Terk3 Two Dollars per annnm, paya ble in advance; $2,50 if payment he de layed over six mouths. - To Clubs Three papers will bo sent for $5; and seven for $1U, in advance. Advertisements will be inserted at SI per square (14 lines) for the first, and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion. The Happy Pair. The following graphic picture of domes tic happiness in humble life, was written by Totvnsend llaiues, Esq., late Secretary of the Commonwealth ofPennsylvauia, and now Ilegistar of the U, S. Treasury in Washington. SOB FLETCHER.. I once knew a ploughman, Bob Fletcher his name. Who was old and was ugly, and so was his dame; Yet they lived quite contented, and free from all strife, Bob Fletcher the ploughman, and Judy his wife. As the morn streaked the cast, and the night fled away They would rise up for labor, refreshed for the day; ud the song of the lark, as it rose cn the gale, Found Bob at the plough, and his wife at the pail. At a neat little cottage in the front of a Where in youth they first gave their young, hearts up to love, Was the solace of age, and to them doubly dear, As it eallcd up the past, with a smile or a tear. Lucille. ! A STORY of the HEART concluded. There was a garden behind the house, in which there was a small arbour, where of ten in the summer eveuiiigs Eugene and Lucille had sat together hours never to return! One day 9he heard from her own chamber, where she sat mourning, the sound of St. Amand's flute swelling gently from that beloved and consecrated bower. She wept as she heard it, and the memories that the music bore sotfening and endearing his image, she began to reproach herself that she had yielded so often to the impulse of her wounded feelings that chilled by A 15 coldness, she had left him so often to himself, and had uot sufficiently dared to tell him of that affection, which, in her modest self-depreciation, constituted her ouly preteusion to his love. "Perhaps he is alone now," she thought; "the tune too is one which he knew I loved :" and with her heart on her step, she stole from the house and sought the arbour. She had scarce turned from her chamber when the flute ceased : as she ncared the arbour, die heard voices Julie's in grief, St. Amand's in consolation. A dread foreboding seized her, and her feet clung rooted to the earth. 44 Yes, marry her forget me," said Ju lie; "in a few days you will be another's, and I, 1 forgive me Eugeue; forgive me that I have disturbed your happiness. I am punished sufficiently my heart will break, but it will break loving you " sobs choked Julie's voice. "O, speak not thus," said St. Amand. "I 1 only am to blame; I, false to both, to both uugrateful. O, from the hour that these eyes opened upon you, I drank in a new life ; the sun itself to me, was les3 wonderful than your beauty. But but loH.ma fVirrot ti t tiri,r V " l-i o , An I nAt Lflwe to Lucille ? 1 shall be wretched IJ Uhall Itulie, Each tree had its thought, aud the vow could impart That mingled in youth, the warm wish of the heart ; The thorn was still there, and the blossoms it bore, And the soug from its topseemed the same as before. When the curtain of night over nature was spread, And Bob had returned from the plough to his shed, Like the dove on her net, he reposed from all care if his wife and his youngsters contented were there. allured for a moment; 1 confess that Julie's beauty made me less sensible to yourstron ger, your holier, O ! far. far holier title to my love 1 But forgive me dearest Lucille; already I return to you, to all I once felt for you ; make me not curse the blessing of sight, that I owe to you. You must not leave me ; never can we two part try me, ouly try me, and if ever, hereafter, my heart wander from you, then Lucille, leave me to my remorse !" Even at that moment Lucille did not yield; she felt that his prayer was hut the enthusiasm of the hour; she felt that there wao a virtue in her pride; that to leave him was a duty to herself. In vain he pleaded; in vain were his embraces, , his prayers; in vain he reminded her of her E lighted troth, of her aged pareuts, whose appiness had become wrapped in her union with h.m. "How, even were it as you wrongly believe, how in honor to them can I desert you, how can I wed another?" " Trust that, trust all to me," answered Lucille; "your honor shall be my care, none shall blame you, only do not let your marriage with Julie be celebrated here be fore their eyes; that is all I ask, all they can expect. God bless you ! do not fancy I shall be unhappy, for whatever happiness the World gives you, shall I not have con tributed to bestow it? and in that thought I am above compassiou." She glided from his arms, and left him to a solitude even more bitter than that of blindness. That very night Lucille sought her mother to her she confided all. I pass over the reasons she urged, the argu ments she overcame ; she conquered ra ther than convinced, and leaviug to Mad ame lc Tisseur the painful task of impart ing to her father her unalterable resolu tion, she quitted Maiinesthe next morning, and with a heart too honest to be utterly without comfort, paid a visit to her auut which she had so long deferred. I he pride of Lucille's parents, prevented - - - -v-i.. x in; i'i iuu ui uuviiit a ua cuia. u u vuiiilu Uball deserve to be so; for shall I not think Pthem from renroaehine- St. Amand. He , that I have embittered your life with , not bear, however, their chilled and But all that I can give our in-iaieu love : my haud my home my plighted faith must bo hers. Nay, Julie, nay whyj that look f could 1 act otherwise : can 1 dream otherwise ? Whatever the sacrifice, must I not render it ? Ah, what do 1 owe to Lucille, were it only for the thought, that but for her I might never have seen thee." Lucille staid to hear no more; with the same soft step as that which had borne her within hearing of these fatal words, she turned back once more to her desolate chamber. That evening, as St. Amand was sitting alone in his apartment, he he heard a gen tle knock at the door. "Come in," he said, and Lucille entered. He started in some coufusiou. and would have taken her hand, but she gently repulsed him. She took a seat opposite to him, and lookiug down, thus addressed him: "My dear Eugene, that is Monsieur St. Amand, 1 have something on my mind that 1 think it better to speak at once ; and if I do uot exactly express what 1 wish to say, you must not be offended at Lucille; itjs not an easy matter to put into words what one feels deeply." 1 have passed by his door when the even ing was grey. And the hill aud the landscape were fading away, Aud have heard from the cottage, with a grateful surprise, The voice of thanksgiving, like incense arise. And I thought look down with scorn, On the neat little cottage, the grove, aud the thorn, Aud felt that the riches and the tinsels of life. Were drops, to contentment with Bob and his wife. aid uot bear, however, their chilled and altered looks he left thoir house and tlrmip-h fnr sf'eral flnva he xvniilrl nnt cip yar-o-- --- . j - irJuhe, yet her beauty and art gradually as sumed their empire over him. J-hey married at Courtroi, and, to the joy of the vain Julie, departed to the gay metropolis of France. But before their departure, before his marriage, St. Amand endeavor ed to appease his conscience, by purchas ing for Monsieur le Tisseur, a much more lucrative and honorable office than that he now held. Rightly judging that Maliues could no longer be a pleasant residence for them, much less for Lucille, the duties of the post were to be fulfilled in another town and kuowing that Mousieur le Tis seur's delicacy would revolt at receiving such a favor from his hands, he kept the nature of his negotiation a close secre, and suffered the honest citizen to believe, that his own merits alone, had entitled him to such an unexpected promotion. Time went on. This quiet aud simple history of humble affections took its date in a stormy epoch of the world the dawn ing revolution of France. The family of Lucille had been little more thau a year settled in their new residence, when Du- and for two days he was once more un der the same roof with Lucille. He never recurred voluutarily to Julie he answered Lucille's timid enquiry after her health briefly, and with coldness, but he spoke with all the enthusiasm of a long-pent and ardeut spirit, of the new profession he had embraced. Glory seemed now to be his only mistress, and the first bright dreams of the revolution, filled his mind, broke from his tongue, aud lighted up those dark eyes which Lucille had redeemed today. She saw him depart at the head of hi troop; she saw his proud crest glancing iu the sun; she saw his steed wiuding through the narrow street: she saw that his last glance reverted to h r, where she stood at the door; and as he waved his adieu, she fancied that there was on his face that look of deep aud grateful tenderness which re minded her of the oue bright epoch of her life. She was right; St. Amand had long iu bitterness repented of a transient infatua tion, had long since discovered the true Florimel from the false, aud felt, in Julie, Lucille's wrongs were avenged. But iu the hurry and heat of war he plunged that regret, he keenest of all, which is em bodied iu those bitter words, " too late." Years passed away, and in the resumed tranquility of Lucille's life the brilliant ap parition of St.- Amand appeared as some thing dreamt of uot seen. 1 he star of a a poleou had risen above the horizon the romance of his early career had commenced the campaigu of Egypt had been the herald of the orilliant aud meteoric succes ses which flashed from the gloom of the revolution of France. You are aware, dear Gertrude, how ma ny iu the French, as well as the English troops returned home from Egypt, blinded with the opthalmia of that arid soil. Some, of the young men in Lucille's town, who had joined Napoleou's army, came back, darkeuod by that dreadful affliction, and Lucille's alms, and Luciile's aid, and Lu cille's sweet voice, were ever at hand for those poor sufferers, whose common mis fortune touched so thrilling a cord in her heart. Her father was now dead, and she had ward which the common world could nev- I was pulling us at a rapid rte through the er comprehend. With his blindness, re- enow, which reminded nic of home among tamed all the feelings she had first awak eued in St. Amsud's solitary heart again he yearned for her 6tep again ho missed even a moment's absence from his side again her voice chnsed the shadow from his brow and in her presence was a eeuse of shelter and of sunshine, lie no longer sighed for the blessing he had lost he rec onciled himself to fate, and entered into that sereuitv of mood, which mostly char acterizes the blind. Perhaps, after we hive seen the actual world, and experi enced its hollow pleasures, we can resign ourselves the better to its seclusion, and as the cloister which repels the ardor of our hope is sweet to our remembrance, so the darkness loses its terror, when experience the hills of Connecticut. After an hour's drive, through woods and gearings, we came to a hirpe bncK. house, standing in a fine grove of old forest trees, with an old fashioned looking pore a. reaching up to the second story. A dog brrked and ran to the gate, and nfter h:m half a do.eu children of different ::gts, principally girl. The old gentlemr.u hnlloed and bushed as we drove in. and toi l tlvni who 1 was. and where "I was goint;. before I got cut; so that by the tinie'tbej had sh-fcc-n fa nds all around with me. I began to think I was among some friends I had seen before. Mv thiujrs were put away, I was seated and evcroou before a brisk wood iire, and ever has wearied us of the glare and travail of was talking, laughing, answering or rWu'g .v. T. - . 1, : .,, il,,, mipitimu: rind x lil.Ul J tioilS WCTC l'.in.l" advanced in life, to feel the chains that bound him to Lucille strengthening daily, and to cherish iu his overflowing he-.rt the sweetness of increasing gratitude it was something that he could not see years wrin kle that open brow, or dim the tenderness of that touching smile it was something that to him she was beyond the reach of time, and preserved to the verge of a grave (which received them both within a few days of each other,) iu all the bloom of her unwithcring nnection in all the freshness of a heart that never could grow old ! A Yankee Girl at the South. The New York Spirit of the Times pub lished a letter from our friend. Miss Pom f ii ret. As the correspondence is acknowl edged to be from a lot of "mis-seut" letters, we have no doubt that one was calculated for us; we therefore transfer it to our col umns: Mount Moriah, X. C, ? Jan. 20th, 1651. J To Zimri Pomthret, near Canaan, Ct. Dear Zimri You know J was forward ed with letters from our old 6ehool-mis-trcss-. to her friends in the old North State, I only her mother to cheer amid the ills of land father found an acquaintance going r . . , . . i . .i . . "t . i i As one evening they sat at woi'S to i the mir and Colouring, and suspecting something of j mouriez led his armv into the NetheiUn.la the truth, St. Amand would have broken But how meanwhile, had that year passed m upon her here; but she with a gentle for Lucille? I have said that her spirit impatience, waved him to be silent, and , wa9 naturally high ; that, thouch so tender continued : j gh.e was uot weak; her very pilgrimage to "V ou know that when you once loved me, i Cologne alone, and at the timid age ct sev I used totell you, you would cease to do so, ' euteen, proved that there was a strength could you see how undeserving I was of in her nature no less thau a devotion in her your attachment. I did not deceive my- Jove. The sacrifice she had made biuusrht l self, Eugeue; I always felt assured that her own reward. She believed St. Amand such would be the case, that your love for on the nroud who would i me necessarily rested on your affliction A Carried Lover's Son?. BY TUDOR HORTOM. O that gome gentle music might wako In me a poet's fancy, For I would siug a loving song, Of her I call my "Nancy." Of her, whose iufluence benign, Has filled my world with pleasure, Of her wJ.osc elements accord With Heaven's exacting measure. When I beheld the pious care She bore her aged mother. In spirit 1 would often pray That she might love one other. O but 6he seemed an angel when In unobtrusive duty: Entire forgetfuluess of self Transfiguring her beauty. May each true man find mate like her, Thauk God, they're met uot rarely! Have generous faith in womankind, And ye shall see them fairly: They seldom move in Fashion's halls. Not iu earth's garish places, But like the flowers in desert wastes, Look out their Heavenward faces. out, tor an that, l never at least, had a dream, or a desire, but for your happiuess ; and God knows, that if again, by walking barefooted, not to Cologne, but to Rome to the end of the world, I could save you from a much less misfortune thau that blindness, I would cheerfully do it; yes, even though 1 might foretell all the while, that on my return, you would speak to me coldly, thine of me tightly, and that the penalty to me would w ould be what it has been." Here Lucille wiped a few natural tears j from her eyes; St. Amand, struck to the j heart, covered his face with his hands, w-ithout the courage to interrupt her. Lu ' cille continued : j "That which I foresaw, has come to pass; i am uo longer 10 you what I once was, when you could clothe this poor form aud this homely face with a beauty they did not possess; you would wed me still, it is true; but I am proud, Eugene, and I cannot stoop to gratitude, where I once had love. 1 am not so unjust as to blame you ; the change was natural, was inevita ble. 1 should have steeled myself more a gaiust it; but I am uow resigued; we must part; you love Julie that too is natural aud she loves you : ah ! what also more probable in the course of events? Julia loves you not yet, perhaps, so much as I was happy, and she would not give way to the selfishness ot grief; she still had du ties to perforin she could still be a comfort to her parents aud cheer their age she could still be all the world to them she felt this, and was consoled. Only once during the year, had she heard of Julie she had been seen by a mutual friend at Paris, gay, brilliant, courted, and admired ; of St. Amand she heard nothing. My tale, dear Gertrude, does not lead me through the harsh scenes of war. I do not tell you of the slaughter aud the siege, and the blood that inundated those fair lands, the great battle-field of Europe. The people of the Netherlands in geueral, were with the cause of Duaiouriez, but the town iu which le Tisseur dwelt, offered some faint resistance to his arms. Le Tis seur himself, despite his age, girded on his sword; the towu was carried, and the fierce and licentious troops of the conquer or, poured, flushed with their easy victory, through its streets. Le Tisseur's house age. gether, Madame le Uaseur said, after a pause "I wish dear Lucille thou couldst be persuaded to marry Justine ; he loves thee well, and uow that thou art yet young, and hast many years before thee, thou should st remember that when I die, thou wilt be alone." "Ah, cease dearest mother, I never can marry now, and as for love once taught in the bitter school iu which I have learned the knowledge of myself, I canuot be de ceived again." "My Lucille, you do not know yourself; never was woman loved, if Justiue does not love you ; ,and never did lover feel with more real warmth how worthily be loved." Aud this was true; and uot of Justine alone, for Lucille's modest virtues, her kindly temper, and a certain undulating and feminine grace, which accompanied all her movements, had secured her as ma ny conquests as if she had been beautiful. She had rejected all offers of marriage with a shudder ; without even the throb of flattered vauity. One memory, sadder, was also dearer to her than ail things; aud something sacred in its recollections made her deem it a crime to think of effacing the past by a new affection. 14 1 believe," continued Madame le Tis seur, angrily, "that thou still thiukest fond ly of hiin, from whom ouly in the world, thou couldsthave experienced iugratitude." "Nay, mother," said Lucille, with a blush, and a slight sigh: "Eugene is mar ried to another." j within thirty miles of the very place 1 was i directed to, who promised to take good j care (f me, :-md put me m tne way ot reaching my destination safely, with a!i my baggage. - It is pretty rough travelling in North Carolina at this season of the year, altIo' thev ".av the roads are sometimes very work that they p-onl. lint von should see what thev call i lial tbvi same inter tnt i.i a rni-road made bv strctcbiue fen-:e mils cn a laill road, ;nd a pre at in-'uy across the muddy places! The real rail-I passed by the house. n muiis f.r hcrs.-s, road to Raleigh which is a very hand-I and with ox-carts with con; a.:d wheat, from time, so that I v;.s made to know a.i, and fed at home. By candle-light we sat dtv.vn to a:i ex cellent and rfiil.stautinl supper. v.C the nr-e-roeawho waited on us. seemed .is irnch ? , , pleased to 6ee me and hear me tni. : young jjrls were. I told then alum: sleighing frolics and quilting matclu a. they talked to mc about barbacuc.. de nies, halls, and singing schools rthc old doctor now and then joining in h.artdy. His wife, a quiet, nice little lady, did not say much, but seemed to enjoy the fun ittul was very attentive to me, and aoked about "my folks," and when ue got set: ted to gether near the fire, after supper, tdie tuid me all about the family 1 was ;g teach for, :iud said 1 would fii.d nsjaclt pleasantly situated among them. I spent three dnya very agreeably before the Doctor's husincH nllov.eo him to drive me to Mount MorLh, ;r.id in fill tb:t Ui.c 1 did nut seem at all in the way i.l anybo dy, but took a nart ns naturally in sdi t'u.it was going forward as if i had iivcu all my days on the plantation. 'The old gentleman showed inc i i c(-l.. his pigs, his sheep, and hi cattle. lie was very kind to the little negroes, w ho totid.ied alter him to be patted on th head, or to talk to him. and all about hi. v. s-ecmid fat, cheerful and conttnis-d. 1 iienrd I.im several times reprove hi servants tor ne glects, but he oid it kindly, ;:ud t!:ey lis tened respectfully. I never had r'iv idea of slavery before that is certain! '1 bey don't j'ii'.h their servants ne;:r ;;s much as they do in Mew F.ul ind, and Wr.s. ur oriscd to hear how independent the ueprees talked to thc-ir in :st. r aud mislrtv s a!: out were sot to, n ine -u it. i nev Uvea ;v t.i'VS some towu, has more brokeu iron laying j u hi in the middle of the road thau on the rail i the track, so when it snows a little, and they can't see the track, they have to give up till there comes a thaw. I found the people very kind to me, and warm at brat, ever ready to do everything they could do rose, t;nd we for my comfort. At first it made me un easy to see so many black people about, and to have them waiting ou me, but the slaves are so cheerful aud go iu and out so pleasant, that 1 urn getting quite used to them. About the middle of the afternoon of the last day's ride, as we were jolting along a big road in a two-horse stage, we stopped to change the mail at a farmer's house, who had a black-smith shop. A deaf old lady came up to me very kindly, as 1 was sitting by the fire, aud she asked mo if 1 wouldu't take a sweetened dram. 1 was very much surprised, aud told her 1 le- j longed to the temperance society. She j said, "there were a good many of their foltts belonged, too, but they all liKed when the UiiU and shouting and s'.'.itug, had uothiu'' else to do. VeIl, very early one cloudy mo: after breakfasting by caudle iibt. the ; tor and 1 started for SvUol. it w-:a it mug, but after a Hune the wind were glad to put on our cloaks, thr; road i si.:g to Inuh.-r CMin'ry, as we advanced, mid we cou:'i s:e fom? distant mountains. '1 be lroct;,r dd ho and fat, and lau;rii was "ou hand at breakfast,' alter lie bad drank a tup of eoifec, and 1 saw one of his daughters send an open flat basket to be put under the seat of the ch-iieo, and 1 heard a servant told not to tovgtt a buu dle of oats for the pony." The country wad thinly settled, but we met a great many large wagons wita h-e or six horses, hauling bales of cotton to market, in South Carolina. The Lector spoke to everybody he met, while and black, without exception, as he passed them, ami sometimes, wheu he thought the pouy wanted breathing, he j.uiied up, and talked awhile to sun etrauer be met on the road. A reat m:.ny ol the- itfate men belonging lo the wagons -.ere on luot, wlme fat, sieek-faced Biuidy IuoKmj ne groes sat in saddles, and drove, the hordes. They answered very cheeriuliy ad dm qiestioin put to them about the roads, iho crops, the markets, and the hcabli ol the This gentle one and I so live, Life-tendrils interwoven That one may not depart without The ether chord be cloven. I bless the day her shadow crossed I he mirror of my fancy, dfd, but then she has not known you as.L led bv a nowerful arm.1 sank Kendefla at have. and she whose whole life has been he feet of Lucille: anrl rir;,..,a f,,.... I triumph, cannot feel the gratitude I felt atvWeriug above its fellows, even through fancying myselfloved; but this will come; lt!j ghtteriug garb, even in that dreadful God graut it! rfflarewell, then, forever, dear hour remembered at a glance by Lucille, j Eugene; I leave you when you uo longer 6tood at her side her protector her guar jwaut me; you are now iudepeudeut of diau ! thus once more she beheld St. A ! Lucille ; wherever you go, a thousand mand. thereafter can supply my place; aud now, The house was cleared in an instant farewell!" J the d good peach brandy and houey, Yhile thus conversing, they heard a tim- i weather was cold, aud may be L hud better id and gentle knock at ihz door the latch take a little." 1 excused myself very was lifted. ; gravely, but, Zimri the Postmaster, the "This." said the rough voice of a com-: stage passengers, aud the stage driver, all missaire of the town "this, monsieur, is draak the mixture, and 1 never saw better the house of Madame le 'Tisseur, and, voila , behaved people at home. The mistress Mademoiselle " camu aram to oflcr me some she had mix- i country: aud the in-trrocs ticeiiied as cujcK - i a j . rf . w A tall figure with a shade over his eyes, ; ed for herself, and wheu 1 again refused, as tiiwir masters wheu ny jokes were go aud wrapped in a long military cloak, stood she drank it oif very qaietiy, aud thsa j ing on. Some of the people- ue met, of iu the room, ; poured some more brandy upon th honey fared cirink to the Doctor, but bo said it A thrill shot across Lucille's heart. that was left iu tne tuninier, aud called a i was too cany tor him. He stretched eut his arms; " Lucille,"said great white-toothed blacK. hostler toiler,! When wo got over half way about that melancholy voice which had made the aud gave him the glass. He took off his noon the Doctor said be thought t bad music of her first youth "where art thou hat, drank do n the liquor at one guip. Lucille; alas! she does not recogui.e St. scraped his foot ou the floor, aid went Amand." j laughing to tha door, saying, "That dram Thus was it, indeed. By a siugular fa- most takes the frost out of my fiugers, mis tality, the burning suus and the sharp dust sisl" The old lady quietly remarked tuat of the plains of Egypt, had smitten the ; "the black ones did uot cure lor the honey young soldier in the flush of his career, as much as the liquor," and that "such was filled with drunken aud rude troopers; j with a second and this time, with an ir- ! weather was mighty hard ou them." Lucille herself trembled in the fierce erasn remediable blindness! He had returned ; Just as we were going to start, afer to France to find his hearth lonely Julie ; changing horses for the last time, a grey was no more a suddeu fever had cut her haired, iiiddy-compiexioned, cheerful old off in the midst of youth; and he had gentleman came iu, stamping the e now- sought his way to Lucille's house, to sec if . from his feet. . Everybody saiuted him by one hope yet remained to him in this the name of "Doctor," and seemed glad world. to see him. I heard him joking with the And when, days afterward, humbly, be i hostler as he came in. and he had a faugh reurgect a lormer suit, am Lucille shut her heart to its prayer .' Did her pride reroem- of one of those dissolute soldiers, more bandit than. soldier, whom the subtle Du mouriez had united to his army, and by whose blood ha so oftan saved that of his nobler band; her shrieks her cries were vain, when suddenly the reeking troopers gave way; "the captain! brave captain!" was shouted forth: the lusolent soldier fel nnr Ka-rAil Shnnti crrnnna- wi Id Vjshe rose as-sbe said this, to leave the.saatche3 of exultiug sonc, the claue of room; but St. Amand, sieziug her haudJarras, the tramp of horses, the hurrying which she in vain endeavored to withdraw footsteps, the deep music, sounded loud from his clasp, poured forth, incoherently, and blended terribly without; Lucille beard passionately, his reproaches on himself, them not she was on that breast which his eloquent persuasions against her reso-1 never should have deserted her. And date my strength from that sweet hour lution. j Effectually to protect his friends, St. ( of her imperishable ti nth. I woa the baud of "Nancy." j " I confess, said he. "that I have been t Amand took up hi quarters at their hoti9 And Lucille found in th her its wound did she revert to his deser tion did she say to the whisper of her yearning love " thou hast been before forsa ken That voice aud those darkened eyes pleaded to her with a pathos uot to be re sisted. " I am ouce more necessary to him," was all her thought ; " if I reject him who will tend himl" In that thought was the motive of her conduct; in that thought gushed back up on her soul, all the springs of checked, but unconquered, unconquerable love! In that thought she stood beside bim at the altar, and pledged, with a vet holier devotion than she might have felt of yore;, the vow with the laudlady. as he crossed tne bar room. He proved to be ua old acquaint ance of the gentleman in whose charge 1 was, and as soon as he heard where 1 was going to keep school, he said it was out of my way to go any farther iu the stage; that he was going to the Aiouut iu betttr rest a while, aud take a "check," as he began to tee! hungry, and thought tne pouy would like a bite, too; so he drove into the woods, by the side of too big road, where a very large pine tree had been cut down by the wagoners, to cuiiii by, auu it would just answer our pi.rps-. lie fcrst unreined the pony, and pMcc-n a large buudic of utuhieshed oats we tore him. lie then pulled out a basket, coii:.i.uiu; broded patimges, ham, ueel, cot n-orcaa, . biscuit, liiiuceu-pies, and uw.i uuaiiig; only tb:nkl lie then u;.eov:ieu a clean tUiiib!er, a small bottle of watev, (ior we had to travel a ridge road ail the way, without any water tor a horse,) auu lastly there wa a bottle of brandy punch, whtc ti he very politely o tiered I me the nifet thiug. I told bim i drauli iiotiiiug tut water; so he said "there- woulu be the more for him.': He ate very iiuuer.tclvt and d ran it his bet lb verv sovv, aud ccpct iaih tlu iu a day, enjoved the meal very much. aud would drive me up, and tuat ho woutd nuddiuc: which he sulci -ws i.ut u; .or take me home to tell them the news, aud learn me, to eat corn bread. So, before I had time to say anything about it, my truuks were directed to oe forwarded in the proper directiou by ano ther line of stages. The Doctor told ine to "leave ichat duds would last me a week;" I saw the 6tage drive away, aud after a hearty pull at the brandy aud honey, my new friend, the Doctor, handed me mto a future, a re- handsome chaise, and his httie active pony me," although he redhed it. too. a- toid me i had better waik ou to warm Uiy K'ct, -uud offered to stop ut some house, io;. t.n.tt; purpose; but l iound that u b.-i&k . aik , answered, and the doctor wailed a little while, until the pouy had finished h:s cats. In the evening, we arrived ai a lint, large farm house, with ample piazza. ..ud in excellent condition, neatly pai.;ied, ad fenced in, and surrounded by a beauwul grove of young forest trees, and an ample 30