Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1857-11-12
g Gbri)ahrg Storp.
From Peterson's National Magazine.
THE MYSTERIOUS BOX.
BY CLARA AUGUSTA.

Horace Fintwood sat alone in his scantily
furnished apartment Outside the meagre
window the rough storm beat clamorously for
admittance, and the wind whistling and
moaning down the great black-throated Chin
ney, made bright, waving phantoms of the
red flames which leaped over the few bits Of
wood upon the handirons.
There was but little fre-yet that little
lighted up the handsome face Of young
Fiiptwood with pale, ghostly CLEAN. And
in that face, by the light, you could read
the fearful tale Of utter poverty, and near
starvation! There was hunger in the wild
expression of the hollow eyes, and upon the
broad, white forehead, where the transparent
skin failed to conceal the delicate vein trace
~ wrought there. :, ,
T#o years before, Horace Flintwood had
left his pleasant home in country section
Of Massachusetts, and his aged parents, to
seek his fortune in the great city OF the
West, c.; where We find him at the COM
mencement of our story.
The old homestead, the blessed old place
where his childhood had been passed was
mertgaged, and it was to obtain money to
save the home of his parents from stranger
hands, that young Flintwood had bid fare
we'll to those he loved and joined the great
stream Of Western emigration. His trade
that of a bricklayer-at first procured
him ready money in Aattering quantities !;
but as people were unsatisfed with settling
so far east as c., the young mechanic soon
found himself deprived Of employment.
He would have followed the current on
even to the shores of the Pacific, but an
attack of fever brought him to his bed, and
he at length arose to find himself deprived
of every dollar which he could once call his
own. On the very verge of starvation =
He thought of begging his way back to his
parents, but his pride revolted. They were
poor, and looked to him for the restoration
Of their dissipated fortune! Should they
see him come back to them penniless and
starving? No, not even if he died in that
great city alone and for the want of bread! !
He could not go back to them only to in
crease their cares, and be but an additional
burden upon their scanty means,
Horace Fliutwood was thinking of all this,
while sitting there by the waning fire that
chill November night, and as he thought,
despair crept into his heart. Out on the
mufied air doomed, shrill and clear, the bell
upon a neighboring tower pealiDg eleven!
As the last echoing ring ceased, there
came short, quick rap at Horace's door
He answered the summons and figure,
closely wrapped in black cloak, strobe in
to the room, and without word sat down on
the chair which Horace had vacated.
"A wilde4ening, friend Horace remark
ed, to break the awkward silence.
VERY. Are you engaged for this even
ing p The strangers tones were quick and
imperative.
sEngased?' Horace started at the ques-
tion. certainly not at this time of night
sAre you in want of money! The un-
known bent searching glance of inquiry
upon Horace, from pair Of black, flashing
eyes, set far back under cliff-like brows.
Sir, / am not accustomed to answer
questions concerning my private affairs. =
Horace drew himself up proudly, and some
thing like frown passed over his pale brow
i require job of work done-done by
good, faithful hand-a discreet workman
mean, and such is your reputation among
those who best know you
Horace bowed.
1T is a small job, but I wish it finished to-
night-to-night! repeating the words with
startling gemphasis, 'and you must do it!
We'll, sir, work would be very acceptable
TO mel need the money bad enough, but
midnight is rather singular time to call
upon the services of a blicklayer.'
.Grauted-but ask it nevertheless-and
still farther; you must be bliudfoldcd and
conveyed to the place where you are to labor
nod rat,,rn 70 poOr lo0p.