Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1860-12-22

seated in great arm chair, and Master Beck.
or, with serious air, puts his horn spccta.
clos ON his aquiiinc nose, and produces from
his secret rccesses various parchments.
e" Here is the title of your meadows at
Eichmalt; you have here, Monsieur Haas, a
hundred roods of good land the best watercd
IN the commune, can be mown twice or thrice
year, will bring you an income of four
thousand francs. This is the title to your
vineyard of Sonnethal, which yields two hun.
drcd hectoiitries of wine, which can be sold
for from twelve to fifteen francs each-thc
good years compensate for the bad
Thus he went on pouring into my dcligt.
ed car the names, descriptions and values
Of farms, forests, and pasture lands and end
ing with: This is the title deed of yonr
house at l.outerbach, the largest house in the
| village, and dates from the sixteenth cen.
tury."
DioJlc: Master Becker, that is not much
in its favor"
"On the contrary-on the contrary
Jean Burckhart, Count of Barth, built it
for his hunting lodge 1t is true that many
generations have succeeded since then, but
, the repairs haze not been neglected it is in
perfect preservation"
| thanked Monsieur Becker for his ex
plantations, aud, having enclosed my title
deeds in a volumnious portfolio, which the
worthy man insisted on lending me, took
leave of him, more convinced than ever of
my new Importance.
arrived at the door of my house | in
troduccd the key into the lock, and, stamp
ing with my foot upon the threshold, said,
with enthusiasm, "This is mine !"
entered the hall. "This is mincn |
opened the armorjrs, and seeing the linen
piled up to the ceiling -" This is mine ~
| mounted the staircase, still repeating like
a lunatic-This is mine This is nnc Yes,
yes; am proprietor here; all my Dispute
tudcs for the future are banished | am
pcrsonHgc in the world no longer by al
feeble conventional merit, by a caprice Of Gus
tom but by the real, solid effective title of
wealth which the multitude envy
"Oh poets oh, artists what are you
by the side of the great landed proprietor
who possesses everything, and whose mere
crumbs nourisr your inspirations ? You are
but the ornament Of his banquet the diver
sion of his enMuiS, the wren which sings
in his shrubbery, the Statue which dec
crates his garden Why intoxcatc and de-
ude yourselves with the vnpors of pride
and vanity-hc alone possesses the realities of
life"
At this moment, if the poor e,pc1lmetStcy
had made his appearance, | should have
looked at him over the shoulder and asked
" Who is this fool, and what has he to do
with me 2"
opened a window the night approach
cd; the sitting sun gidcd my orchards
and vines as far as the eye could reach. At
the summit of hill saw cemetery.
L turned away, and examined the apart
mcnt in which found myself 1t was
vast gothic hall, the ceiling ornamcncd with
heavy mouldlngs. An ancient spinct occu
pied the interval between two winAsaHsSsasgf
passed my fingers over it s.! 'oo."J U%Si str,,r
jungled with n Strange, ironcal tone like old
toothlcss women, quavering the airs of their
youth
At the extremity of the hill was a vault
ed alcovc, with long rcd curtains and a
canopicd bed. 1t reminded me that had
been on horseback for six hours, and, un
dressing myself, | lay down, saying, with
smile of unspcakablc satisfaction, Il am
about to sleep for the first time in my own
bed"
1t was night and the moon was shining
in full splcndor when | awolc without any
apparent cause. The vague perfumes of
summer came through my window the sweet
odor of ncw-mown hay imprcgnatcd the air
| looked round in surprise, then attempted
to rise Strange to sny, though my head
was perfectly free, my body seemed to adhere
to the couch with the weight of lead Not
a muscle answered to my efforts to rise; my
arms lay by my side completely inert; my
legs were extended motonlcss | agitatcd my
head in vain.
Am |, then, paralyzcd in my limbs !"
exclaimed, in terror My head sunk back
upon the pillow; my eyes closed | listened
to the regular pulsations of my hcart-that
rush of the blood over which the mind has no
power. "What - [ exclaimed, "my body,
my own body refuses t. obey me! Kasper
Haas, the lord of so many farms and vine
yards, cannot move this miserable clod of
earth which yet is his own. Oh Cod
what does this mcan?"
AS [ was wondering in this manner, a
noise arrested my attention, the door at the
side of my alcovc opened, and man. clothed
in rigid material, like the monks of the
Chapel of st. Gualbcr at Maycnce, with a
large felt hat and falcons plume over his
ear, his hands covered to the elbows with
buckskin gloves, entered the hall
The wide boots of this parsonage reached
above his knees, heavy gold chain crossed
his breast His brown, bony face and cavcr-
nous eyes had horrible greenish tint, and
an expression Of deep sadness. He crossed
the hall with a regular step, like the tic.tac
Of 2 clock his hand was on the hilt of his
raper, and, striking the ground with his
heel, he cried out, :" am Hans Buck hart,