The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1836-1851, 1850-07-02

entered, but it was not Fitzallan! Too soon
she learned his mission; he whom she had low
ed, so trusted, had welded another-the lady
she saw the day before was his wife; and un-
willing to meet her himself, he had charged a
friend to communicate the fatal intelligence.
Edward B. gazed with enthusiastic ad-
miration on the beautiful creature, whose pale
lips, and scalding tears, which forced their way
through the long dark eyelashes, belied the firm
ness her wolnan's pride taught her to assume
Shame, deep shame, thought he, on the cold,
the mercenary spirit which could thus turn the
warm feelings of fond and trusting girl into
poisoned arrows, could thus embitter the first
sweet flow of affection. He took her hand in
silence-he felt that consolation in a case OF
this kind was but mockery. They parted, the
one to despair over the expired einbers, the 9th.
er to nurse the first sparkles ofhope The next
morning, scarcely aware what he was doing, or
of the motive which actuated him, (for who
seeks to analyse loves earliest sensation |! Ed
ward sought the abode of the interesting stran-
GER He found with her Colonel Fitzallan's so.
lcitor; that gentleman, suspicious Of the warm
feeling evinced by his friend for the fair Span
lard, had employed a professional man; for he
was we'll aware that the letters he had written
would give Isadore strong claims upon him.
He arrived at the moment when she first CON-
pretended that her lovers reason for wishing
his letters restored, originated in his fear OF a
legal use being made of them. Her dark eye
flashed fire, her cheek burnt with emotion, her
heartbeat became audible, as she hastily caught
the letters and threw them into the flames
You have performed your MISSION, exclain-
ed she leave the room instantly" Her force
was now exhausted, she sank back on the sofa.
The tender assiduties of Edward at length re-
stored her to some degree of composurc. 1t
was luxury to have her feelings entered into;
to share sorrow is 10 soothe it. She told him OF
hopes blighted forever; of wounded affection;
of the heart sickness which had paled her cheek,
had worn to shadow her once symmetrical
form. She had in her hand few withered
leaves, 1t is" said she, "the image of my fate;
this rose fell from my hair one evening; fjtL-
allan placed it in his bosom; by moonlight
saw it thrown aside; it was faded, but to me it
was precious from even that momentary caress
have to this day cherished it. Are not our
destinies told by this fower9 His was the
bloom, the sweetness of love; my part was the
dead and scenless leaves"
Edward had now become her constant CON-
panion; she found in him Il kind and affection
ate brother. At length he spoke of love. Is
adore replied by throwing back her long dark
hair with hand whose dazzliug whiteness was
all that remained fits former beauty, and bade
him look on her pale and faded cuuntenance,
and there seek his answer
Yes, shall wed. but my bridal wreath will
be cypress, my bed the grave, my spouse the
hungry worm ~
Edward gazed on her face, and read convic-
ton; but still his heart cung to her with all
the dcvotcdncss of love. which hopes even in
despair, and amid the wreck Of every promise
of happiness, grlsps even at the unstable wave
One evening she leaned by Il window, gazing
fxedly on the glowing sky OF Il summer sunset;
the rich color Of her cheek which reflected the
carnation of the west, the intense light of her
soft but radiant black eyes, excited almost hope;
could the hand Of death be on what was so beau.
tilul9
For the first time she asked for her lutte
hitherto she had silrunk from the sound OF mu-
sic Fitzallan had loved it; to her it was the
knell of departed love. She walked Il few wild
melancholy notes. These sounds" said she,
"are to me fraught with tender recollections; it
is the vesper hymn OF my own country" She
mingled her voice with the tones, SO faint, SO
sad, but so sweet, it was like the song ola spirit
as the concluding murmur died away. She
sunk back exhausted; Edward for a while sup
ported her head on his shoulder; at length he
parted the thick curls from off her face, and
tmdly pressed her lip; he started from her
thrilling touch-it was his last kiss-Jsadore
had expired in his arms
The Rich Men of .Nsw York.-The starting
point in the course of some of the rich men in
New York is thus referred to in the Herald:
There is hardly rich man in this conllnuni-
ty who did not commence his career poor--be-
gan as Il journcymuu in his line of business
The career of few of our leading rich men
may serve as instances. The late John Jacob
Astor-who died not long ago, and was proba.
bly, worth thirty millions-commenced his ca
reer on this continent as il jouneyman pedlar,
beginning with candy, and getting on to fur ped
ling when he commenced investing in real es-
tate His descendants now are stars ut the
OPERA The late John G. Costar was a jour
neyman halter, and died recently millionaire.
The late John Mason was originally tailor,
from Connecticut: the late Mr. Jones, coop