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jomssm -i . wiLLLiM d. Cooke, Eiilfiiil & rROPRlETGR. A FAMILY NEWSPAPER-NEUTRAL IN POLITICS. TEEMS, TWO DOLLARS PES AMU. : i . - i Kit H Mtttr to all tije Sit tuste of Eije Souti), Ctttmturc, true atiou, gricttltutc, Shell's, ti)e iftarftcts, &c. v:iL in -no. RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1854. WHOLE NO. 1401. SELECT-POETRY SEVENTY-SIX. RY. WILLIAM ri'LLEX EHYAVT. What heroes from tie- woodland -prung,; Wln-n, through the fresh awakened haul, The thrilTniir cr of I'let J u iimj Ain! to the work of warfare tri;ng Tiic yeoman's iron hai;d. ' 11:1 s !lu:i2 the cry to hills around, And ocean-mart replied to mart, ArT'l streams uiio-e springs were yet uufonnd Pea-led far away the startling sound Into the forest's heart. Tiie-ii marched the brave from rocky steep, From mountain river swift, and eold ; The borders of flu- stormy deep, The vales, wlfbre gathered waters sleep, Sent up the strong and bold. As if the very earth again " Grew quick with God's creating breath And, from the sobs of grove and glen, I!ose ranks of iron-hearted men To battle to the death. The wife whose- babe Irst smiled that day, The fair fond bride of yester eve, Aiid aed sire and matron gray, S iSv the loved warriors haste away, :Aud deemed it sin to grieve. Already had the s! rife begun ; Already blood on Concord's plain Along the springing grass had run ,: And -blood had flowed at Lexington, Like brook- of April rain. . That death-stain on the vernal sward ; Hallowed to Freedom all the shore ; I:r fragments fell the yoke abhorred . Tbe footstep of ;i foreign lord ..-.Profaned the -oil n-. more. 0? ECTED : STORY. H From Ameriea's Own. v ;'.. ' Tin: AMEUICAI? TEOOPEE. ' f- Paji' in Use History- 'of the Revolution OK MII.LE. CHAPTER I. :t-. nigh; .utiuu the IIVds-on, and th dark-: lies- was lv. rui'-'i a:'itii lei'vd solemn by tl on: e crv hand. scv ahove, where e stillness which The stars shone: not ;i cloud was itohnug i: fine of. the the -tivak li'i'iiiu'l by the. im)K v wav. i tie uaiK cans gram! iv as oyer it dl n. out the river, whose fc .-flood rolling on b'-nea. u now bioi-ie against solid rock, and then flowing on, disappeared !-l some sharp pl'oi. c-Uons. Trees, which tie 'rot wti'-l tie- eivsf the nver roeKV snores, t'j.C!', ;i ltli )!V Si 'lelllll k tir ttve with its sotn-; ea-ii tr.ioii the Scene :i o'h iiji.n. 1 lere. r se. t h (I, bre shade there-tin- toweling Stl ileiieil Its; might v timts !lf. ll-sv. extruded the iong lines ot oaketi uv ken trees, tm-ir loaves rustling qtitetiv in lie -. title breeze there ml ht be seen the .aril- which surs dark shadows of groves and ore rounded some country welling. How differ ent was all this from the srate. of the. land wh.re it lav 1 For war and de-bilkm s;ts tiding tri unioiatut. ever where. The rod of the trani iiad been hud heavily uto:i ;l;e eoi)ie, and they had i -is'en to fight to sacrifice their all to yield their lives for freoV.sn. Yet. .though tar away the souud of 'tumult and battle "was rising, here it 'was as vet unheard-, and the Hudson flowed on slumborouslv -peacei'ullv V Sooji amid the quietn.ess and sf illness low sounds were heard, far away, which seeiued. to :un. roach '-'-radua lv nearer. let t lie v were so- f; iv off that theY could scarcely be distinguished. Amid the darkness might also he. seen a lurid lighidilashing distinctly against the gloomy sky. It came from. a -'large dwelling upon the summit of a bill, and had .ung been burning and still it blazed, vet with the glow of a dying fire, No people were jjear -no cattle could be seen no tinkling of .b'-lls or lowing -'of herds the-house wits burning, but there were none to extinguish the flames. , . The low sound- became gradnallv louder ami -L more dr-Ung'uis table as they approached : they 'sounded like tho'trumpling of !.-. Soon thj rattling of swords could 'be heard, and occasions :,;illv a shout of enco.urag uieiu from men aud a neigh of excitement from the swift horses. , On the.' came, down, ;i road which passed "it the sldelof.a hill, aril loud thundered the footsteps of the horses as th --y pa sed over, a bridge w liieh ciossed a gully at the .b.:tum ; they crossed and soon began to '-ascend tow arils the summit-. There were - fifty men in a troop vet their muscular f n ns-;im 1 the gth of their horses might Well cause- fear in an enemy of double their number. Their leader was. a young mail of not more than twenty-five. lie rode a spirit? ed horse with ' admirable grace, his glance was bold and daring, and his whole .bearing proud and chivalrous. As yet they were tot) far dowli the hill to see the burning, house upon the top, but the redness of the sky attracted their gaze and riveted their attention. - " Murray," said the leader to his companion, " do vou see how red, the sky is over Sandford 's . , :" " , . - i lluUse." -''-..:'' Ha ! w hat ! thunder and gnus, Caston .! what' can it bt v" "How intensely! red it is T '. "May be the forest is on fire far away. ' " It is too uear, though. It must b ens ! I tremble to think of it." -lieav- " See, see !'' exclaimed Murray, as winding irouud a projection Into the road, they came in full view of the blazing ruin. "Ah '. good heav ens ! SandfonTs house." There it lay before fhem almost consumed to the ground. Smoke was streaming from one ide a though there the flames had been partly extinguished, from the other a luna glare as cended, blazing forth fitfully fearfully. Barns lav in ruins around ; heaps of furniture, still smouldering, could also be seen. Caston drew up his horse and gazed ou,as if he were.sudden y turned to marble. - But his heart beat fierce ly within his breast, and as the fire shone upon his face, it appeared pale as death, and from it his eves gleamed beneath his frowning brows . like coals of fire, while his teeth were tightly pressed against his bloodless lips. A moment he stood there, and then lashing and spurring his horse, he rushed towards the blazing house, while all the troop followed after. , He spoke not a word, but dismounted, and with Murray by his side walked around. If the scene had been overwhelming to him as he view ed it at a distance, it was now tenfold more so. Pictures and curtains lay trampled on the ground, or half burnt by smouldering embers. Ornaments and costly works of art, such as then could seldom be seen in America, lay broken and scattered on every side. All was confusion, and wild, wanton ruin aud desolation. " By all that's sacred !" cried Murray, vehe mently, whoever did this shall pay dear. The scoundrels ! the infamous villains !" Caston spoke not a word but walked on. " Major, what do you think ? How many were there in this house!" " But six ; the old man and Celia, with the four servants." . ': Where are they now ? Good heavens ! how came this to pass ?'' A groan burst from Caston. "'lie clenched r his hands together, and his whole frame trem bled with irrepressible emotion. "O God! U Celia!" he oroaned in a hoarse voice. " Gone ! dead ! and I not near ! 'tis too much ' lie calm, Caston," said Murray, soothingly. u This could not have been done more than an hour or two since. 'Who could have done it? I .-an not imagine; The British ." " How could they have done it No British soldiers are about here ; they are all in New York "now." " But who else could have done it ?" . C.istou replied not, but walked on in silence. AYalking on together, the two friends searched the surrounding groves narrowlv and earnestly, hoping to find a living being who might tell them of this horrid scene -hoping, they scarce ly knew why, that perchance they might find the unhappy Sandford. They entered a small grove, ;distaut about a hundred yards froyi the house, and stalled upon entering, for the sound of low moans l came audible. "Ha! listen, Murray! do you hear?" and Caston' pressed eagerly forward to see whence they came. A red coat met his eye among the bushes, and a moment after he stood beside a wounde'd English soldier. " Wretch ! who are you? how came you. here? Speak'." " , mercy ! mercy ! noble captain. I am not an enemv. I'll turn. I'll be an American. Ill " " Peace 1 Speak and answer, me. Who are YOU i " A wounded soldier, noble sir, but " ''How came you here?" " I came down the river with my detach- v meut." " Down ? You lie villain ! No soldiers have come clown the river." v ' O, pardon me, I came up from New York, aii'. ,1 'When?" j " This noon:' j "This noon. Who led you?" " Colonel Grober." " Grober ! Grober ! Heavens aud earth ! Gro- -ber!" cried Murray. "What the same who was Treated so kindly by them in New York who was so friendly, so O, if I could meet him now."' "Now, tell me truly, you scoundrel, or you die " cried Caston, in a fiercer voice, " who did thai?" We did it. Grober led us here. The old man imolored mercv. He would give none. He carried both away. He ordered me to seize the girl. I attempted to do it, and the old man si10t shot shot me. O, sir, it is a dreadful wound." Caston trembled with rage. " Where have they gone ? " ''By boats down to Musby's lan land ing " and with a deep groan, and half articu lated words, his head fell nervously back, and all was oyer. ; ''How long ? but ha he is dead. Grober ! O, villian more accursed and vile than any fiend. When vou see me you will see your death. Musby's landing. Murray, where is that ? " " Five miles down." " They are there. It is a place they have chosen in which to pass the night, I suppose." " Just the place for them. It is secret, and hidden bylofty hills and trees." " Do, you know the i-oad " " As well as I know my own home, major. And I will lead you there as quickly and straight as you can desire." "It is ten miles." " Only nine by land. . .We .cau go it jn a ve- ry little time, for the road is better than it was where we have traveled to-day." " Murray, it maddens me to think of Grober after receiving such kindness of this family, to do this ded of 'villainy. O, Murray, old friend ! you know why I feel thus." I know well," he replied, graspiug the hand of Caston. " I know well, and it shall go hard with me if I do not set you soon face to face with this scoundrel." By this time they had returned to the troop. 'Mount! Mount! Ride like the wind to Mus- by's landing !" cried Caston, in a voice of thun der. "To you see that ruin? The British did that ! The murderers are before us ! On." Loud rose the wild cheer from the enthusias tic and. excited soldiers. "Down with the mur derers ! " was their cry ; and Caston, with all his men following after, rode like the wind down the hill. Again the horses' hoofs struck against the rocky ground. Again they thundered over the bridge ; then the sounds died away in the distance, and ail was still as before. CHAPTEIl II. The hills, all rocky, rose high above the place called '' Musby's landing." It was formed by a small projection into the river, and the little spot of ground which lay here, hidden by the neighboring hills, was scarcely visible to those coming down the river. For its secrecy it .was chosen at times for a:: encampment. From the hills above sentries could descry an approaching foe, and when any alarm was given the camp could instantly be broken up, and strongly in trenched among the hills. Here lay a small encampment at the time. A large tir.- blitzed at the foot of a rock, the tents were near it, arms were plied, horses put to rest, and all was ready for the night. By the glare of the fire the forms of a few soldiers could be seen as they walked up and down with measured steps. Guards were placed at one tent which stood neater the fire than the others. Within this tent the light shone and disclosed the form of a young girl, who sat upon the ground, her head bowed weepi"g bitterly. She was young and very beautiful, her features possessing delicacy and gracefulness ; but, her eves were red with weeping, and her hair was distored. "Earlier! father!" she cried, "where are you ? Ah, heaven, it is bitter for me to endure all this, but how much more so for you, so old and feeb:e!" "Celia," said a voir" uear by." , " Father," she cried in surprise, as a dark form crept into the tent. " O, God ! you are alive." " Yes, ( 'elia. mv child," said he embracing her. " But I d d not know what had beeonn of vou. I thought they- had killed you. 1 thought that even now the form of my daught er lav low with those of my murdered servants.' " ), it might have been better for me had it been so." " Sav hot so, my daughter. Say not so. O. Ileayen, look down upon us and stive us pro tect mv daughter from this murderer ! Save her ! ( ), save her ! " " They came so suddenly, father." "And the sight of Grober Grober transform ed to a villain was too much. Where was Cas ton then ? " Caston Henry he will be there soon and will find us gone." " If he had come to-day it would not haye been so. O, if I had but seen his gallant troop. If I could have heard their cry, then all would haye been well, for this would have been prevented, aud the infamous Grober, the murderer and hypocrite, would " " Ah, ha, you pleasant old gentlemen, so you are here, are you ? " cried a mocking voice. " How very free you are with my name, to be sure." " Grober !" uttered both, while the old man, making an effort to escape, suddenly recollected that he had been heard, and remained still. " Not so fast, my aged friend," cried Grober, coming in, " not quite so fast. You are to wait here awhile, since you are here. What do you suppose I stormed your castle for ? What! don't know ? Really.'' Both remained silent. Grober laid aside -his tone of mockery, and went on. " Whv was it? It was. because you were a rebel. Sandford a rebel, ifti infamous traitor to your king " '" 'Tis false ! Yon- know that I am an old man, and'desirous of peace . What cau I do ? " " You had money, and could help the rebels." "Did I never help a royalist? Did I never lend thousands of pounds to a hypocrite to a certain Grober ? " " Ha ! vou, my pris ner, dare to talk thus to me? cried Grober, in fury, drawing up his huge form to its full height. " By the Lord, sir, I won't stand it, so do not be presumptuous. I took vou prisoner because you were a traitor? old man, and deserved to die the death of one." " You cannot believe so. You are speaking falsely," said Sandford, calmly. " What's that ? Do you mean to say that I lie ? " roared Grober. " Very well ; the noose is waiting for you, and will not long be emp ty." "Do your worst there is one that can a- venge me. " Your daughter ? True, she can " " I did not speak of Celia. I spoke " "Yerv Well. Celia cannot on v avenge vou, but she can do more. She can save your life, old man." ; ; "O, then!" she cried, falling at his feet, but shuddering as she did so ; " Grober Colonel Grober, if you are a man, and have in you any pity, O, pity him ! Have mercy on hisgray hairs! Spare him ! O, spare my father ! " " You are beautiful," he cried, '' as you kneel there. I can spare him for your sake. There is one condition." She shrank back. " Be mine, Celia Sandford. Am I not good enough for you ? Be mine, and your father's life. shall be spared. Your home shall be res tored to you, or rather a new one shall be given you. Speak. What! Silent?" The fair young girl trembled and bowed her head in au agony of sorrow. The old man seemed overwhelmed by some blow. " Never," he gasped, " never. Fool ! do you think I would beg my life ? No ! I would ather die a thousand deaths than live on such terms. Scoundrel ! can I. who have fought a mndred battles in my youih, fear death or bow to you ? Kill me ! hang me ! General Sand ford cannot fear death. But there are those who will hear of this, There are friends of mine in both armies close friends, and my gray hairs shall uot wantonly be dishonored." Pooh, man ! " said Grober, but he seemed somewhat affected by what General Sandford had said. " You were a general, but you have sold out. You are a rebel, and deserve a dou ble death. But all shall be forgiven if your loye- ly daughter shall be mine." " Who will forgive me on those terms ? " ; " I." " You ? you, a colonel of a small detachment of horse. You forgive for treason ? By what right?" " I will let you go." " And do you not know that if I am suspect ed I can again be tried for the crime I " " You will not be condemned." " And do you not know, fool and villain," cried Sandford, more fiercely, " that I can turn 3u you for robbing a royalist, and carrying him off, thus proving you to be a traitor ? " " Bah ! old man I am master now. Speak to your daughter or you die." 'Ne-er!" " Celia, will you be mine ? " " O, my father ! " she cried, weeping, and clasping him in her arms. i " Celia, my life shall not be saved thus. I would not ask you. I would die first. Celia, scorn him and let me die." " Then, Miss Sandford, you will have one hour in which to think. I will return then and know. If you do not decide, I will hang your father. ILin'jhim! do you hear that ? and do you know wh .t it is to have a friend hung ?' "Perhaps the day may come,'' said Sandford, in a low and 'hollow voice, "when you will know what it is to die thus." . " Peace, old man ! " said Grober ; but, as if seized with superstitious terror, he trembled at the boding words, and after a time he left the tent with an oath. Suddenly he came back.: " I will leave you together. Talk over tins Old man, your life may be saved. Girl, you may save your father's life. And recollect, both of you, and you particularly, Miss Sandford, that if you refuse, and thus kill your father, you will yet be in my power." " Wretch ! " she cried, suddenly, bowing I up her form to her full, height, while the tears had all departed from her flashing eyes. " Do your worst. You will know me better if you try to overcome me." Grober stood for a moment astonished, and then departed. " Do not yield to him, Celia. Show a spirit such as you did but now and you will do well. As for me, I can die. But you can never break your vows to Caston. It would be a base wrbng to himiind I would rather die than allow it. Be firm ; these are the times to try the soul, but be firm, Celia." : . " I have this with wSich to defend myself" said the fair girl, aud she drew a small dagger from beneath her dress. " This will be plunged into his heart if he offers violence and if all else fails it shall enter mine aud free me from a life of misery." " Alas ! my Celia my daughter." CHAPTER HI. Nearly an hour had passed and still the fath er and daughter sat in the tent, she with a beat ing heart and despairing soul, thinking on his coming death on his ignominy, on the fiend ish exultation of Grober, he, trembling with ap prehension for the future fate of his child. The hour would' soon be up. Its last moments were passing swiftly away, his minutes of existence were numbered, soon time would be at an end with him. Thev sat silent, for not a word was spoken by either, but each sat involved in saddest expecta tion. "Farewell, farewell, my poor child !" he ex claimed at length. "I hear Grower's voice. I heard him order his men to be ready. He is coming and my fate will soon be sealed, j But, Celia, keep up your spirit, and do not yield to my murderer." "Never, never!" cried Celia, with a voice scarcely audible. ' "Now," cried Grober, entering, "old man, your time is up. Are you prepared to yield, Celia, or will vou die ?" "I am ready lead me to death." ; "I spoke not to you, but to her who can save , i i - , .u r.. .1 . you. Answer, Veua snau your utuiei cue, oi not?" "He shall !" she answered, in a stern and stea dy voice. "He shall die but' there is another world ; there is a God above, Grober, and re member there is a hell." "Pshaw. Soldiers approach, lead this traitor to the gallows. Ah, vou going? Well, then come, lean on vour father his death may soft en you." All -was still as Sandford was borne on, with blinded eyes, and hands bound behind him. All was still, and they approached the fatal cord which hung from the branch of a gigantic tree, whose stately form rose beneath the hill. "Miss Sandford, there is your father." She spoke not, she made no sigh, but kissed her father, and the last words of farewell were spoken. Suddenly she started. Her quick ears detect ed a sound far away, gradually increasing, gra dually approaching she trembled, her heart beat quickly once more, hope revived, for well she knew the sounds. Such sounds always an nounced the coming of Gaston. But she alone seemed to notice it; for Grober heedless of all things else, gave orders for Sand ford's death. "Place the noose around the trai tor's neck, and be ready, men, to pull him up between earth and heaven." The cord was fastened around that venerable head, whose lips moved as though breathing a prayer. "Once more Miss Sandford, speak." She folded her arms and answered not a word. "Your father in five minutes shall die, aad vou try not to save him. Unnatural girl ! you it is you who are his destroyer." Still not a word. She heard the sounds com ing nearer. The other soldiers heard them thev looked fearfully towards Grober. "Hang him pull him up," yelled Grober fu riously, to his men. "Fool, 'obey me what are you st;uing at ?" One of them pointing at the hill and said, "the rebels!" The sound of coming horses was heard rising lo idly through the air the loud thunder of their tramp over a rocky road ; they were .close at hand. "Hang this fellow first, and then meet the rebels. Fools ! Ah, fury !" lie rushed, towards the camp, crvincr. "To arms ! up, soldiers ! flie rebels !" and all through the camp went the startling cry of, "the re bels !" And now came the trumpet's notes loudly, wildly, piercingly through the air, and the rush ing of the coming foes was heard, as the sold ers instantly seized their arms and poured forth to meet them. Through the gloom little could be seen and Celia, finding all full of excitement and herself unnoticed, loosened her father, and stole fast and far away up the rocky hill. Reach ing a rugged height, she stopped to let her fath er rest, and then they both looked down. By the blazing fire they could see all. The British soldiers hastily leaped upon their steeds and seized their arms. Trumpets sound ed, and the voice of Grober was heard as he cursed his soldiers and gave them - his com mands. Down came the troop upon them down thev rushed from the hills with the speed and furv of a whirlw ind. The long and rough road the former fatigue of the day, all were forgotten, and nothing remaiaed but the unquenchable ar dor of battle and fierce thirst for vengeance. "Liberty! Down with the king ! Death to the British !" The shout rose shrilly on high as the Ameri cans came on. There rode the flower of their cavalry there Celia could distinguish the noble form of Caston, and could hear his voice as its deep tones cried out, "On, upon them !" "God save the king, and down with the re bels !" was the cry of Grober's band as they stood to meet the enemy. This was but for a moment. On came the horses, and then amid long volleys of musketry, aud dust and smoke, shrieks of agony and shouts of triumph, clash ing of arms, and neighing of furious horses, the troops closed. For a while nothing could be seen but a wild confusion of soldiers and horses nothing heard but one vast outcry. Carbines and guns could no longer be loaded ; they fought with swords aud guns used as clubs, " Revenge !" shouted Caston. " Remember Sandford !" " Death to the rebels !" yelled Grober "Fu ries !" he screamed. " Down with them !" His men. panic-stricken by the fierceness of the Americans, whom they had been taught to despise, and overpowered by their individual strength began to waver. Then the men of Caston grew fiercer still, and their swords darted quickly and fatally around. They drew closer to one another they rushed more furiously into the broken ranks of the British. " Fly," cried they, as terrified they beheld the Americans once more riding victorious among them. Caston rode amid the hottest of the fight, searching" for Grober, whose voice was yet heard, but more tremulous than before. He sought him out, and came up, sword in hand. His pale countenance, over which hung his raven hair in wild disorder his compressed and colorless lips, his blazing eyes, made him appear like some spirit, some demon. , ; 'juouei, i. iiiive iuuuu vou. . " Quarter," cried the British soldiers running. " Why fight longer? I yield. But had I true Britons instead of these Hessians, ho American could withstand me," and Grober threw down hissword. ., . . ... . .-.-."-'-. " Coward," cried Caston, with a hoarse voice. "You fear to fight me." " I do not ; but I ask for quarter, rebel !" . "What ! will you insult me 1" cried Citston and flinging away his sword he seized Grober, and with herculean strength hurled him from his horse to the earth. J All conflict had ceased. The British, or rath er Hessians for this was a troop of the Hessian cavalry which England had sent out yielded themselves prisoners. Grober was bound and led before Caston. The fire was replenished the troop of Americans busied themselves in se curing the prisoners, and putting their horses to rest. From the rock above Celia had seen all had seen her lover triumphant, and now sitting to seal the doom of her enemy. Instantly the old man and his daughter went down to meet their deliverer. ' Grober," said Caston, gazing sternly upon him, "do you know who I am?" "A fiend for none but a fiend has such a glance, or strength." " Be wary how you answer. Do not tempt me. Your life hangs by too brittle a thread." "My life? How?" " You shall be hung as a murderer of the in nocent." " What ! Dare you speak thus to a British officer ? Hang " " Wliere is Mr. Sandford ?" - " I know not" " You have murdered hini. I have come too late' to save him." " lie was a rebel, and therefore I seized him." " Was his daughter a rebel ? Why did you seize her ?" 1 . " For particular purposes." " Why did you destroy his house, plunder it, murder the servants, and the venerable man who befriended you ? Answer," rejoined Caston indignantly. " I will answer those who have a right to question me. Take care of me until I stand be fore your commander." " I will take care of yon for one half hour, and then a greater Being will judge you." "What?" " Is the rope ready, Murray?" " There is one upon yonder large tree, with weight attached, all ready. The villains have used it on poor Sandford." Caston's eyes flashed more terribly his face wore a more despairing look his voice was hollow. "Where is Celia?" 4 i Grober, who did not imagine that they would dare to put an English officer to death began to tremble. " Tell me where Celia is before you die." " Will you surely kill me?" "I will'" " By hanging ?"' " Yes. Where is Celia Sandford ?" ' I know not I swear I know not !" replied Grober, supplicatingly. " Scoundrel ! murderer !" cried Caston, over come with rage and bitter tinguish and seizing Grober, he held him by the wrist with a grasp like, that of a vice. " She she escaped she did truly." " Where has she gone ?" " I know not. Both have escaped. I do not upon my honor I do not know." "Your honor," cried Caston, bitterly. " What "Caston Caston there they are, by thun der !" cried Murray, in a tone that made Caston turn swiftly round. Ah ! what a sight. Ah, what a sudden revulsion from despair to joy, from anguish to bliss ! There was the old man walking towards them and by his side, assist ing him, was Celia all lovely, all beautiful, like some angel suddenly come from on high. How could the transport of joy which rushed through Caston's bosom be described ? the thrill of rap ture with which he again welcomed Celia to his arms ! " Celia ! Celia ! from the dead you appear to come, for I have mourned you as dead, and there was no hope no hope for me, Celia." " Ah, Henry, death I feared not. The bitter ness of death with me was passed when the rope was put round my father's neck." " What ? Does he come from the dead, too?" " He has suffered more pain from Grober than death could give." " Grober ! See, there he stands." The wretched man now saw there was no hope, for here were those whom a short time be fore he had cruelly used. He could not cry for mercv his tongue seemed incapable of motion. . " Hurry away, Celia, I have a duty to per form." Celia and her father departed then Caston spoke : " Wretched man ! you have five minutes to -r 1 . 1 T?. J - prepare, i am your juage nere. r or muruer you are to be hung !" Grober spoke not. He looked rouud, but in the inflexible countenance of Caston and Murray there was no ray of hope to be gathered. " Off with him !" said Caston. " The five minutes are up." Two vears passed away, and again it was a beautiful evening on the Hudson. But peace reimed all over the Country, for the war was ended and America was free. The mansion of Mr. Sandford was rebuilt, and stood proudly on the summit of the hill. A bright light gleam ed from it, but not the light of a conflagration. It was the glare of lamps which illuminated $ie hall, in which five hundred guests witnessed the espousals of Henry Caston and Celia Sandford. MISCELLANEOUS. A TOUCHING RELIC OF POMPEII. In digging out the ruins of rompeii, every turn of the spade brings up some relic of the an cient life, some witness of imperial luxury, or far the greater part, the relics have a merely curious interest ; they belong to archaeology, and fin4 appropriate resting places in historical mu seums. But there are some exceptions. IIereyfor in stance, the excavator drops, an uninvited guest, upon a banquet ; there he unexpectedly obtrudes himself into a tomb. In one place he finds a miser cowering on his heap ; another shows iiim. bones of dancing girls and broken instruments of music lying on the marble floor. In the midst of the painted chambers,-baths, halls, colurins, fountains, among the splendid evidences of ina terial wealth, 'he sometimes stumbles on a sim ple incident, a touching human story, such as strikes the imagination and suggests the mourn ful interest of the great disaster, as the sudden sight of a wounded soldier conjures up the hor rors ot the field of battle. Such, to our mind, is the latest discover of the excavators in this melancholy field. ' It jis a group of skeletons in the act of flight, accompa nied by a dog. There are three human beings, one of them a young girl, with gold rings land jewels still on her fingers. The fugitives had a bag of gold and siyer with them, snatched! up, no doubt, in haste and darkness. But the fiery flood was on their track, and vain their wealth, their flight the age of one, -the youth of the other. The burning lava rolled above them and beyond, and the faithful dog turned back to share the fortunes of his. mistress, and to die at her teet. Seen by the light of such an incident, low the vividly that night of horrors looms upon sense ! Does not the imagination picture the little group in their own house, by the side of their evening fountain, languidly chattering over the day's events and of the unusual heat? Does it not hear with them the troubled swell of the waters in the bay ? see, 'as they do, how the night comes down in sudden strangeness, how thd sky opens overhead, and flames break out while corice, sand, and molten reks come pouring down ! What movements, what emotion, what surprise ! he scene grows darker every instant ; the hol- ow monotory of the bay is lifted into yells! and shrieks ; the air grows thick and hot with flafmes, anil at the mountain's foot is heard the roll of the liquid lava. Jewels, household goods, jgold and silver coins are snatehed up on the instant. No time to say farewell ; darkness in front; and fire behind, they rush into the streets streets choked with falling houses and flying citizens. low find the way through passages that have no longer outlets? i Confusion, ganger, dark ness, uproar, everywhere ; and shouts of parted friends, the agony of men struck ctown with) fall ing columns ; fear, madness and despair unciain-' ed; here, penury clutching gold it cannot keep there, glutony feeding on its final meal, and :hrenzy striking in the dark to forestall death. Through all, fancy hears the young girl's screams; the fire is on her jewelled hand. 1 No time for thought no pause the flood rolljs on, and wisdom, beauty, age and youth, with ajl the stories of their love, their hopes, their tank, wealth and greatness, all the once affluent life, are gone for ever. , I When unearthed after many years, the name less group has no other importance to mankind than as it may serve to " point a moral or adorn a tale." Insanity. In a lecture recentlydelivered be fore a London Society, a distinguished physician stated that there is one form of insanity wjhich, although unknown a few years ago in England, is now becoming quite common. It appears in men of-all classes, but seldom in women. Its causes are mostly to be foundj in anxiety, re verses, and in over exertion in 1 depressing cir cumstances. Its commencment is marked by neglect of business and an indulgence of extrav agant fancies. The patient considers himself on the eve of possessing great wealth and! high rank. He speaks of vast designs, his temper be- comes capricious, and the physician notjees a peculiar lingering in his speech and a sligjht al teration in his manner of walking. But lie ap pears? fine spirits and acknowledges no ill ness.! By and by paroxysms of irritability at- tack nim, and his malady makes rapid advan ces. ! His speech becomes more indistinct, and his strength, both of body and mind, grow less. Nutrition goes on well, and the exhilaration of spirits often remains when- the patient can no longer walk or speak so as to be understciod. This kind of insanity is believed to be incuirable, although the patient's life may sometimes be prolonged for years. Its usual denomination is general paralysis. Pretty Strong. The Cleaveland, Ohiol Her ald, addresses this hint to old b'achelora: "If our Maker thought it wrong for Adam ix live single when there was not a j woman on earth, how criminally guilty are old bachelors! with the world full of pretty jjirls ! " Canker Worms on Treks. Perhaps it may be of benefit to some of our readers, to 'know that a quantity of fine house or beach sand, heaped up around the trunks of trees, prevents the canker worm from getting into the tree. ' Friendship. -Two souls which touch, without meeting, like two fingers, on the same hand. !;' t W f MM i i i V If i.. a ' v 1 14 2 r it t- if i j:Vi H v A Si H e St t ',' I-'- r I.- f u II I! , I. f i R v. .
Southern Weekly Post (Raleigh, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Aug. 12, 1854, edition 1
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