ave saved the heart of that forlorn girl many a
bitter pang.

[Footnote 7: Our Charleston readers will recognize the case here
described, without any further key.]

The motion granted, a day is appointed--ten days must elapse--for a
hearing before the Commissioner of "Special Bail," and his special jury.
The rosy-faced functionary, being a jolly and somewhat flexible sort of
man, must needs give his health an airing in the country. What is the
liberty of a poor white with us? Our Governor, whom we esteem singularly
sagacious, said it were better all our poor were enslaved, and this
opinion finds high favor with our first families. The worthy
Commissioner, in addition to taking care of his health, is expected to
make any number of speeches, full of wind and war, to several recently
called Secession Conventions. He will find time (being a General by
courtesy) to review the up-country militia, and the right and left
divisions of the South Carolina army. He will be feted by some few of
our most distinguished Generals, and lecture before the people of
Beaufort (a very noisy town of forty-two inhabitants, all heroes), to
whom he will prove the necessity of our State providing itself with an
independent steam navy.

The old Antiquary is remanded back to jail--to wait the coming day.
Maria, almost breathless with anxiety, runs to him as he comes tottering
out of Court in advance of the official, lays her trembling hand upon
his arm, and looks inquiringly in his face. "Oh! my father, my
father!--released? released?" she inquires, with quivering lips and
throbbing heart. A forced smile plays over his time-worn face, he looks
upward, shakes his head in sorrow, and having patted her affectionately
on the shoulder, throws his arms about her neck and kisses her. That
mute appeal, that melancholy voucher of his sorrows, knells the painful
answer in her ears, "Then you are not free to come with me? Oh, father,
father!" and she wrings her hands and gives vent to her tears.

"The time will come, my daughter, when my Judge will hear me--will judge
me right. My time will come soon--" And here the old man pauses, and
chokes with his emotions. Maria returns the old man's kiss, and being
satisfied that he is yet in the hands of his oppressors, sets about
cheering up his drooping spirits. "Don't think of me, father," she
says--"don't think of me! Let us put our trust in Him who can shorten
the days of our tribulation." She takes the old ma