Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1858-10-07
Au Original Stotg.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
A TALE FOR THE TIMES.

CHAPTER I.
Give me sly Irritation,
By the light of chandelier;
With music to fill the pauses,
And nobody very near:
Or seat on silken sofa,
With bottle of good old wine,
And mamma too blind to discover,
The small white hand in mine.
N. P. WILLIS.
Strange that different individuals estimate
the same actions so differently! Of course,
great allowance is to be made for the point
Of view from which actions are viewed-the
moral code by which they are estimated
but independently of this, in mere mat
ters of Judgment, where all ethics are exolu-
ded, it is singular that inferences so widely
dissimilar should be drawn. For instance, l
never see a Airt-our readers know what
that means-without feeling for him sym.
pathy almost bordering on compassion yet,
to the world, such character is an appro-
pirate subject for ridicule and contemptuous
remarks. Ny own observation has led me
to discard the vulgar error, that Irritation is
the source of any permanent misery. That
it is the source oftentimes of pleasure-that
its real effect is to elicit genuine affection,
founded upon more durable basis than that
on which is built the ephemeral attachments
of the ballroom; that it leads to closer OBJ
servation of the human heart, and deeper
study of the dark and intricate ways devised
by the astute, to cloak their duplicity, hy-
pocrisy, and heartlessness, is the mature con-
clusion sustained and justified by facts.
The following narrative Of the career of q
young gentleman, well.known to me, which
the reader will confess true to nature, will
reveal, more lucidly than mere arguments
can, the truth of the assertions advanced in
the premises:
Almost from his earliest boy-hood, have
we known Victor Livingston. A quiet and
demure student, shrinking from the eyes of
the world, Victor grew up to manhood ap-
parently ignorant of the commonplace fact
that woman was made to be wooed and won
with no inclination for her company, and
with positive distaste for the merry, incon-
siderate laugh, and the gay and happy re-
partee-the pride and glory of the parlor cir
Gle. At college, chance first threw him into
the giddy vortex. 1t was one of those let
tered Festivals, when the eloqueuce Of youth
full orators calls to ita aid the Establishments
of music and the splendid illuminations of
art. His gay companions had determined
that on this occasion, Victor should make
his debut into the glittering ring of "fast"
young ladies, who gather, like eagles to their
prey, around the unsophisticated and inno-
cent fedgelipg of the College campus. Poor
iads-with what cormorant appetite, they
swallow the first dainty morceaux of fat
terry dropped from the ruby lip Of the giddy,
dashing belle! Fearfully, as lamb led to the
slaughter, did Victor, yielding to the solic-
itasious of his companions, approach the bat
terry Of bright eyes and the formidable ter
rors Of but half.concealed breast-works.
"Miss Dalton, allow me to present my
friend, Mr.. Livingston, said the gay and
careless Charles DeVere, as he turned on
his heel to join another group. With bow,
awkwardly formal, Victor saluted the beau
tifll Estelle Dalton, She was standing near
the library, half.reclining on one arm, which
rested on gilt volume of Byron. with vo-
luptuous ease unsurpassed by that Queen of
the Nile, who on Cydmus' wave, mid bur-
nished gold and oriental pomp, dazzled the
cQnqueror Of the world. With perfect CON-
posare and grace so charming that Victor
completely forgot his studied part, the bril-
liant beauty began:
"Mr. DeVere and myself were but just
speaking of you. was trying to persuade
him to read Byron, which he processes to
hate, and either to avoid refusing lady, or
making promise he was deter lined not to
fal6ll, ha begged permission TO introduce an
ardent admirer of my favorite author. Of
course l was glad TO make your acquaintance.
l have no patience with Mr.. DeVere. He
belongs to that class who pretend to think
the ladies made for playthings-not to think
and read. I hope he is not your oracle, Mr.,
Livingston.
81 would go much sooner" replied Vic
tor "to Mr.. DeVere for dancing lessons, or
the philosophy of taking the world easy
than for an elegant oritique on poetry, or
an analysis of the comparative strength of
the male or female intellect That shadow
Of melancholy, which broods forever over
the gifted child of song, accords not with
the natural gravity or studied levity of
Charles. To him the beautiful "Dream" is
as unintelligible as the metaphysical jargon Of
the Transcendentalists. Itis strange, Miss
Dalton, how many persons are totally devoid
Of sentiment. To me, and, if mistake not, to
you, the coleu de rose of life-that without
which existence has no charm song no
beauty, and beauty itself no fascination.
Can you conceive why any one should wish
to live, who, as many profess to do, puts no
faith in the purity Of love, the devotion Of
woman, and the existence of virtue?"
Here Victor paused as if afraid of his
own fervor. 1t was too late-he had "shown
his hand" The fair Estelle was an admi,
rabe tactician, and nothing could exceed her
delight in finding the "gifted Livingston, "
ESQ Depere had termed them and so his pale
and intellectual brow characterized him. J
full of the sentiment she so we'll knew how