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VOL. 7.
LINCOLNTON, N. C. MAY 10, 1851.
NO. 3.
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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
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