The Pee Dee Times

              DEVOTED   TO   SOUTHERN   BlvJHTS,   MORALITY,   AGRICULTURE,   LITERATURE,   SCIENCE,   ART,   AND   lillSCELLANEOUS   NEWS.
3i tl)ou ijast tiuil) lu uttti, a]jiuk,
tvtiii. t'lf rtoi t#^f'«V'
VOI. 1.
GEORGETOWNTS. C,    WKDNESDAY TuuRNIXG, JttLY '^7, 1853.
NO. 29
PEE DEE TIMES,'
'  IssuctI Every Wetlnesday iMoniing,
AT GEORGETOWN, S.C,     ^ R. DOZIER. }   Publishers
K. \VATER.M.\N. Jr., ;- nnd
J.  W. TARBOX. )   Proprietors.
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The lips ofthe pal"i girl n.ove treniu- lously -, she breathes hard ; a'sioh ahnost escnpes her, and a despairing expression flits over her features. Fainly she asks,
" Hotv much do you jiropoie ti p.iv ? '
•' Thnt vvill depend upon your feiiriv.
Sonrieiiines 1 pay one  price,   sonir 'ines
A few days of suffering, of miserj"— I v.ile, never, ;:tvei-!" and her voice wa.s only a few days—llien "the gojnen ¦ firm and her eye flashed earnestly as slie bowl is broken,"—atirrDeaih  holds   hisf«aUiif
ghastly revels in the iniise of poverly! "Anoiher miiiiner Wi.nted !" should be the f   taph-of the dead! ^
another, accordinp; as tuy jrirls wou ! vvill take you a vveek on trial, payincr ¦\r,u whatever you earn, and liien -.,*. v ^ njiree upon some stated price.'
The fjirl pressed her  hands  vvi'.iiiv   t( her lirovv as if in pain ; tears ajipe.ir   li
-1^'rotn He IU  -o-
5r	
-. RraneA.
her eyes, and them.
she
"Thank you, Nellie, my ovvn dear Nellie !"' said the young man, w-armly embracino her. " Even as you prom¬ ised in childhood, you shall be mine, aH mine. "O, Nellie, vvhal j>>y vvill be ours! But," asked he,altera moment's pause, "doesyour father knovv aught of these proposals ? ll" he did vvould he not urge you to accept them ? Frank Gray is rich; 1 but a poor sailor," and his voice I'aKered. turns avvay to hidejl had b. y to say so !" said the inuianant' " My father knovvs nothing," answer- :! ciiild JS he drew the litlle girls hand with-   ed Nellie.    " But if lie did, couW he bid
 -O .
n-in't cry. Nellie, doi,-, i    Yqi, si_,al! ,;; Frank Gray's vvife; a.,.) he  is a
Oh!   vvell  may the  poor girl   weep ;';. in ';¦;, own, and led her avvay.
me wed one vvhom I do noj iove ? Could
From Ihe O'ire Branrh.
A WANT DISSECTED.
_ o	
BY   JLLIUa    VV.\IIKE\    LEVVH.  O	
revealed wha' "he dared nol uttsr. Poor ! Nellie !    Llie's lessons come slowlv.
"A .MILLINER WANTED!'
Such vvants are plenty—their an¬ nouncement in llii.s laconic slyle equal¬ ly common. You see thetn in the dai¬ lies—posted lip at the entrances of Jiil- linary establishinents—appended to nevv (joods at the door—and dis[)iayed in cap- it.-vls upon a siiip of pnsteboard in the front vvintlovv. Rut—be candid, t-eader .—ilid vou ever look heyond thn mere mateiiient that such a want exists ? If tint, let ns do so for a riionienf the frlance may .startle you.
Here we are at Madame Bonnet's Btore,in vvhich, hs vve nre assured by her Ute advirtisenient, "is to be found one of the greatest assortments of goods in her line ever olTered to the public." Tlie la¬ dv liersell is siatidiii;; behind the counter in the front part of the shoji. There is one of the svveett^st smiles imaginable upon her fjatures—(which generally re- gem'nle sourkrout in expression)—as she endeavors to convince the customer be¬ fore lier thnt tbe artificial flovver.< she hulds in her hand are "just the thing!" Alas for her argumenl.s—for the weak¬ ness, the inability of words! The cus¬ tomer vvill not be inveigled into purcha- ising an article that does not become her, and de[iarts—leaving MadameB. frown¬ ing like the iieroinc on the boards, vvhen ; th.-it " odious and audacious tnan" ven¬ tures to address Iter.
.K few moments pas.s in vvhicii Madame B. adjusts the articles last shown, muttering sundry anathemas ngainst such people as tft"// tumble over goods vvithout the remotest idea of pur¬ chasing—and then the door slowly oifiens. The much wanted milliner enters—a pale young girl of sevenleen, 'who has just lefl the bedside of a sick mother. She is very pretty ar.d interesting, des¬ pite the ihinness of her feaiures, and the humble look they wear. Madame B. as.iiimes a rery sober expression of coun¬ tenance as her eye encounters the visi- tot, and runs hastily over herpoor apparel and wasied fortn. She understands her nif'ans ofa livelihood In an instant. The girl timidly inquires,—
" Do you wish to hire n nrlliner ?" "ldid—yes—but  -I h:,v.. nbrady had •leveral applications,    ll.ivi; nul exacllv eno.ngrfi anyone, as yet, however.    D ym understand every department oft business ?
" Thoroughly."
" Well, that is fortunate ; good milli¬ ners are so scarce! May I inquire hovv .'ong you have worked at your trade ?" " Someihing more than three years." " Not long enough to acquire a proper knovviedge of the minuter branches. 1 have carried on this establishment near¬ ly twenty years, and Hind there's some¬ thing nevv to learn ever}' day. (The visitor sonn lound that out.) Bui per¬ haps vou vvill do. Hovv much do you eipeol to get per w«ek ?"
Wl 11 may her pulses quicken ; I.er fea- - >' ,, Eddy, I will not be his vvife, I | ^'^ ^'^ "le give my hand to one vvhen my I tmes gi-.idually pale avvay to an ashy |..^vill bi yours!" replied lhe child ear-I •^^''"'l is with another ? 0, no, Edward, j hue ; for it is a dark and   terrible  pano I nestiv, i ^e could not do i.'—he would not!—And
' rama that is passing before her   meiuaj |     "So you shall, Nellie,so   you  shall;] J^*''c so valuW w-ealih—il -" and tears
vision; a desolate home, a dying parent
an empty cupboard, an empty grate, ;ind .,
an empty purse!     Weill may   the   fanixs
ofiles]>air gnaw avvay ihe fibres  nf hfr
heart! *
j Bul these blighting recollpctions me: in,, ;ove you because youi papa is poor i soon partially overcome by n strong el- ! and dops not keep a carriage, and does j fort of her will, and then she luriis Io not ha .-eevery thing, as his papa does.^ j .Madame B. and says vvith forced calm- j gy, i,:„ „„! pare for that, Eddy," con- j ness, linued the warm-hearted child, as the big
j     " I vvill come to-morrow al   the li-rrns   tears sole to her eyes, " for he isa  bad
you propose." b-.y a-J you arc good.    And  I   do uot
" Very well," responds   Madame   B., caie i."your papa is nol rich.    He  is a
in a businei-like manner; and   then she'.u-^oi; ..-»pa and you love him; so  I will
arianges some ribbons in lhe case vvhile ' Iflve him Ick.."
the gill hurries away.
the
no'
A
Di
^' s, Nellie, he is a good papa," s.-tid
h.y   th.^UgInr.11,.       ..|<,„   ^^^,    ^^
u Iks vvould nol like him ; for nc ..
i;?*I like them,  nor like Mr.  Gray.
y be t\iey vvill not love rne, either.
ever ask thetn, Nellie ?"
ansvvei-ed    Nellie, . " I. never
"Very vvell!" Oh! whal apiiliv there vvas expressed in the utterance o those words! Ilow directly they gav the lie lo the appearance of the one I vvhom thev weae addressed! And yc Madame B. is a member of an   exceed
ingly handsome church—listens   to  \)u   aiker' ti em ; but I know they   will ; for highlv polished language of thu  celebra   lh   '   .   e all that I d-),   always.    So  do led Ivev. Mr. Coaveriemiast, with a far , not look so sad, Eddy," and   she  kissed whose expression seems   to  have   bet: ; uvva,-hi   quick falling  lears; "when   I prepared expressly for the   occason   b_i-^'row 'Jr and you are a man, I will  ask tlie^^oiiceninited sorrows of seventy-fivi j'.heni. a funerals—and drops  a   gold   eagle  int-      k.ios. the "contributions for  the  amelioratior       Poo- ofthe lamentable ignorance ofthe Hot- leain.
tentots,"    with a  ilouri.sh   ihal   says  a«j 	
plainly asa floui-ish can say, "Behold, ., y; , \'eliie, I shall sail to-morrow," oh.ye ungodly, this wodrous pattern of .j,;,; ,j,^, oung man, gazing tenderlv up- Chrisiian excellence !" And perhaps all ^„ .^.^ |, ,|g .."-embling hand which he the while when she is doing this, she for- i^^j^^ ^^.i,|, „ ^is own —" 1 cannot be idle gets llmt there ate many who are seen ,„ (i,;^ j,, at business of life. Besides, every Sabbalh at chuich, years in sue- aJii.df,, sadly, "lam poor; and the cession,  who    will    never  be   seen in; pooi f.ire aardly.    I must be rich,   Nei-
" So you ; 1 I .vill love vou, O so much ;" added
the by as he threvv his a-ms about her, |
givin; hera warm childisk kiss. j
'• [? It, do you know,   Eddy," coniin-        " Onci-tnore I leave you, Nellie dear.
ued lhe little girl, " that Ie says I  must   But «oai 1 shall have a position   in   the
vvorld, and claim vou as my own. This voyage 1 go as mate ; the next, I hope, as a captain. 0. Nellie, I rejoice in this because it vvill so soon give you lo me!" and the young man, who had a moment before stood proud and erect in the thought ofhis promotion, now bent low to kiss the face that leaned so lovingly upon hi« breast. " But ere I go, Nellie, promise me once more that you will be mine, only mine ! On this Biblo swear it!" continued he, earnestly, laking a ^•dl volume from his pocket. "It vvas thc gift 01 ...^ ,1..;^ mother, and has never lell me. In all mv j--.-ncyings il has been a comforl and a solace, v^on this let us again renew our vows while her spiril hovers over and blesses us."
Again the vows vvere uttered. Again the parting vvords were spoken; but vvith hearts full oflove and hope ihey looked forvvard to the future, and it gave ihem peace.
Nobly the gallant ship speeds on her course. Proudly Edward Ilervy paces her decks. Soon, O soon, he will be her masier, and Nellie Clifton his wife. This ihougiit cheers him by night and hy day—in the calm and in lhe storm. God help thee, proud dreamer! Thou, too, art learning life's slern lessons.
i they vvill let me be your wife,
ley will!"
'liid! she had yel a  lesson   to
Heaven !
A week is passed by the new millinei ami   her mother, God only knovvs hovv^
lie ; I mu I have a posiiion in lhe world ; I must -ll yiu. With this object in view, la . - wi'I be svveet.    Only   prom-
Cold and  hunger   have    been' percliedj igg nic tu . yoj will not forget me; that
you wil! t   nk tenderly of me, and pray for tne in ^y absence, and Igo  willing-
upon th^ir bed and cupboard during thif{
time, like   restless  spirits of evi! whosfj
complainings can never   cease!      Ba'
they have managed to live, and the weekj     The yu. ig man spoke softly  but ear
has expired.    Poor Ellen has  not  beeBj rH-stly to    he   gentle  girl beside  him
able to work but four days out ofthe sir ' k pswer h.^ ceded none;  for   her   head
but she has cnrnecf a handsome   sum   <-.; i.-l)   upon   *s   bosom,   and lears spoke
money.     K    scanty   pittance,   whicPJ vvh
vvould almost make a beggar  curse   the
hand that should give, is all she receives.
She cannot remain long to urge that she
has earned mofe—lo shed   tears   which
have no povver to  move the   stern cold
vvoman ; and she hastens home vvith lhe
meagre sum placed in her   hand   as   an
equivalent for her loil.    There   is a le- verish flush upon her  cheeks,  a   severe
pain in her head, and her heart throbs vvildly ; but she heeds it not. The bel¬ ter portion of her hard-earned money is jQjpSoon invested in articles that minisier to (Sl^ie neces^iJes of her mother. Noi is she unthankful for the little she has. Her prayer »f thanksgiving ascends to God ere she sleeps.
Sleeps ? 'Tis a sleep that never will knovv an awakening lo the conscious¬ ness of farther horrors ! Morning dawns upon a chilling scene. The eyes of the poor girl unclose, but they do not recog¬ nize the tearful parent, who, feeble as she is, has tottered lo the side of her child —Wild is their light; ay, even the •vildnessofdeliiium ! There is ver in her veins; fev'*r in her heart; an|
1 fever in her bruio !
"O, Nellie, say that it is false—that youare not his vvife—that—"
" But, Edward, I am his wife—his wife ; and you must leave me. Duty to my husband demands il.    Go!"
And he did go, he cared not whither. Ambiiion, energy, hope, love, all had died out within hitn. He resigned ihis oflice^^captain, and took passage for n distant^fand. To all on board he was a stranger, a^d.none knew the eric' that vvas
A Modern Lady of Fasiiion. j
" spore superfluities to provide n<.oes- saries," some wiseacre once said, bul necessaries are no longer ofany value, il is the superfluities thai entitle ono to rionsideration. If you breakfast on wa¬ ter-gruel and brown bread in your back kitchen—or dine on a starved shoulder of old mutton, or sttp on colTee-grounds, vvho is'tlio wiser for your abstcnance ? But ifyou '.vear a bonnei three hours be¬ hind the bit fashion, or a mantilla that your dress-maker declares she made for you six months ago, you must pass the ordeal of foolish c-itlcistn and grow ac¬ customed to neglect, Il is nobody's business whether you have a blanket or a hearth-rug on vour bed; but if vou wear a calico gown in the street, rumor sets her thousand longues in motion. The modern vvoman of fashion is not by | any means rich, but so adroit a mana¬ ger that she lakes from thc necessaries loadd lo the superfluilies. She grinds dovvn lhe wages of her servants, employs seamstresses at half pay, haggles with lhe butcher over a pound of meat, gath¬ ers samples at sundry groceries, and by making herself utterly despicable in her ovvn eyes, contrives to find the means to live .and dress fashionably.
But after all, such a i^rcnture gains nothing but contempt from the world's true nobilitr. What she gathers about her is only fashionable cloihing, things that walk lhe streets and advertise the wares of many an honest shopkeeper. Things that meel to say " what a love of a dress" and " hovv much was it?" and separate to   wonder  in  outspoken
spleen, how in the world Mrs.  can
give v..,f, (lollars a yard   for   silk,   when everybody knows i,l. ^Coo^^tf^^,*..,,
The true lady Cares not a jot for fash¬ ion. Wherever she is known the tricks of trade are thrown aside, and she is giv¬ en the liberty of choosing for herse?f.
She never baits her dress vvilh jewelry to angle for eyes. She never sails ihrough the public streets in the full glo¬ ry of brocade and feathers viith an air that says, " look at me." She never trowns dovvn poverty's -.-neagre smili?, noi puts in its pale finge<-s, battered sii:- p«nces or crossed qutrters, when she knows il is too depetictent lo wince at her meanness.
Vou vvill knovv her on the street by modesty, entire absence of ornamen-I, correct taste, delicate manners, and a low voice, OS perfectly as you vvould re¬ cognise in the i-uflled skirts, goU watch- chain, iflying -lace», flutleritvg ribbons, majestic\strut, "Onl of bonnet, free and easy .".tar^loud laugh aru'^'
humor, set up for both, and, liaving lothing of the right stock to go upon, subs-i-tme coarseness and impertinence (not to sa> impudence) and tiy to cx- '-•¦"' laughter, ar.J aitraut The atieniion of gennev.-,en by talking slang. Where do they get il? T-T(,w do they pick it up? From low nc.vspapers, «r from vulgar books ? Surely not from low compan¬ ions? We have heard of one of ihesa ladies, vvhen her collar clianced to ba pined awry, say that it vvas put on drunk —also, that her bonnet vvas drunk, mean¬ ing creeked on her head. When dis- concerled she was "floored."' When submitting todo a thing un-villing, "she vvas brought to liie scratch," Some¬ times " she did things on Ihe. sly." She talked of a cerlain great vocalist "sing¬ inglike a beast." She believed it very piquant to use these vile expressions. It is true, vvhen at parties, she alvvays had a half dozen gentlemen about her ; iheir curiosity being e"cited as lo vvhat she vvould say next. And vet she vvas a vvo¬ man of many good qualities ; and oni who boasted of having alvvays lived it. society.""
ainbovv   col- ors,T\\eT^iliable opposite, the mere iT.o ! ern v.-o'man of fashion.
[m. a. d.
Sweet and Bitter.*
 ^0	
W^hen I '.vas a little boy, I remembei one cold winter's day, I was accosted b a smiling man, wilhan axe on bis shou! der:
"My little fellow, has your father . grind-stone ?''
" Yes sir."
"You're a fine little felloi? ; will yo. let me grind my axe upor it ?"
Pleased vvith the conipliment of fina little fellow, I answered.—
" Oh yes sir 1 its i'own in the shop."
"Anr/will you,-ny littlo man," tap¬ ping me on the fcead, " get tiie a little hrv water ?"
" Hovv crold I refuse ? I fian and soc brought h/m a kettle full.
" Ho'f old are you ?    What  is  yot r name .'    1 am sut-e you are   one of il best lads I ever savv. a fevv moments?"
Tickled with his flattery, l.'ke a fool, *. vvent lo work, and biUerlvdid I rue  tl s day.    It vvas a nevv axe, and I toiled ar tugged till I vvas tirp.a almost  to  deal The school bei! .-^ang,  and 1   could n gel avvay ; niy hands were blistered, ar it was nol half ground.    At length, hov ever, the  axe was sharpened  and   ll . man turned to mc wiih :
¦ .\ovv.  yoa  little   rascil, you   ^¦^'• pl,iyca  the  truant; scu'i   :o  s-r.jool (> you'll rue it."
-Vlas! though' I, it w.'-^/iafd  enoug 10 turn lhe grindsto>^-- ; a'*'! ihen to   I called  " a iiiile pascal," vvas indeed   to mv'.h.    It si»--'v deep in niy  hearl,  an" Iiave oCi^n ihought of it since.
When I have seen a man of doublfi haracterpat a pretty girl on the chee.. raising^Jiej^^^kling  eyes  and   rub ^dsqueeze—b' ill tin •
Will you just tur